#making myself throw more of the things i make to the wolves (the internet) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

xxisxxisxxis · 4 years ago

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Eighty-Nine

Words: 4.1k

Warning(s): explicit language, violence, mentions of drug abuse

Tag List: @unknownoblivion @edwardtriggerhandzz @haileynicoleseavey17 @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @mgkobsessed @sharon6713 @itsametaphorbriansblog @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @xpoisonousrosesx @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @lilmou5ie @emariehorror @divaanya @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @abaldboi @liith-ium @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @ytwahsog @scarecrowmax @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @sparxx27 @kaitieskidmore1 @cruecifymesixx @meetthesixxter @arianareirg @gingerspicetalks

@fancywasmyname1 @teller258316 @ggorehorror @blowinmeupwithherlove @xrosegoldwolfx @mylifeisjustafeverdream @redlipscrystalskies14 @str4nge-haze @reigns420 @sixxseconds2love @leatherandheels @dogmom2014 @allyouneedislove-mp3 @n0-self-c0ntro1 @viinceneil

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED

I've never seen Nikki like this. I've rarely seen him cry, I've never seen him cry sober, and I've never even known it was possible for him to let himself cry like this.

He's sobbing an excruciatingly painful cry, head between his knees, hands in his hair.

Is this how he felt when I was locked in the bathroom for hours, screaming and crying and wailing out sorrow after learning about him and Vanity? Helpless and shitty, knowing he'd go back and change what he did if he could but knowing that telling me that wouldn't make me feel any better?

I don't say anything. Amber doesn't say anything. We both just let him get it all out.

Minutes later, when he starts trying to calm down, he slowly wipes his eyes and glances up at me, before he starts up again, shaking his head, hanging his head low once again.

"Vivian," Amber says softly over him and I look at her. "Go to him." She mouths, motioning to him and I raise my brows.

Has she lost her fucking mind? He's probably pissed and distraught enough to choke me out, right now. He probably hates me, and I don't blame him.

"Go." She mouths, sternly, waving her hand in his direction and I take a heavy breath and slowly get out of my seat and very carefully step to him.

"Nikki," I say weakly, getting on my knees, my shaking hand rubbing his shoulder.

He wraps his arms around me, tight, pulling me to him, burying his face into my shoulder.

"I'm sorry." He tells me, and I squeeze my eyes shut, squeezing him.

"It's not your fault, Nikki, it's not your fault." I assure him, holding back my own tears.

"Yes, it is. I'm sorry, Vivian." He argues through his tears.

We just hold each other, and when he calms down a little bit, Amber calmly says, "Nikki, why are you so upset over this?"

She knows why, she just wants him to confirm.

He pulls away from me and sniffles and I wipe his stray tears with my thumbs before reaching to her desk where she's holding out her box of tissues for me to grab.

"Because I know it's my fault."

"Why do you think it's your fault?"

"Because I had an affair, first, and she went to him because she was really hurt." He shakily lets out, trying to bring himself back down from his hysteria.

"Nikki, look at your wife." Amber says to him and he looks me in the eyes, obviously struggling not to look away. "Repeat after me, alright?"

He nods.

"Vivian, I'm sorry." She starts and more tears topple from his eyes.

"Vivian, I'm--" He takes a breath. "I'm sorry."

"That I made you feel,"

"Like you had no other choice,"

"But to go have sex with someone else,"

"Despite it being no fault of my own,"

"Despite it being…" He closes his eyes and sighs, as if trying to make this part engrain into his mind, "...no fault of my own,"

"Despite you being in charge of your body and what you do with it,"

"I am so sorry."

"Please, forgive me."

"Now, Vivian." Amber says to me, next, and I sniffle, looking at her. "Look at your husband."

I look at him and rub my lips together, nervously.

"Repeat after me." She adds and I nod. "Nikki, I'm sorry."

"Nikki, I'm sorry."

"That I made an irrational decision,"

"After years of hiding hurt and pain and heartbreak because of your irrational decisions,"

"But this is not your fault,"

"I no longer want to blame my mistakes on others,"

"You did not force me to get in bed with someone else,"

"You just made me feel like I didn't have a choice,"

"Because the pain of learning of your affair,"

"Put an irrational thought and sought out decision in my mind and I could not help myself enough to extinguish it."

"Please, forgive me."

"Okay," Amber nods, her voice soothing, "Nikki, what it is that you need to tell Vivian before you two continue to work on this relationship."

It's clear that this is something he's already discussed with her, and I wait patiently as he exhales, very, very, heavily.

I can't imagine what it looked like from outside the door of Amber's office. If a passerby happened to peek in the small little window of the door…

"Roxy, Vanity, Donna…" I shakily state.

I'm not in a ball, pleading with God to kill me like I was when I first found out he had dared to see another woman, but now that I know better…

"...And some others." His tears are dry now, as if he's mustering up all of his macho manliness to brace for impact when I start trying to hit him.

"Some others?" I clench my jaw, my nails digging into his jeans where they're resting over his kneecaps and he rubs his face.

"A few others." He says next, avoiding a definite number.

"How many is a 'few'?" I grit out and he looks at Amber.

"Tell her." She encourages him, sternly.

"Nikki,"

He lets out a breath and he clears his throat.

"If a 'few' were to have a number, about how many would it be that you've had some exchange that would be considered cheating in your wife's mind, from the time you got married to now." Amber adds.

"Around two-hundred." He admits.

I think he's kidding at first, over exaggerating or being sarcastic because I can't fathom sleeping with two hundred people in four years while in a supposed committed relationship.

"You're full of shit." I let out a terrified chuckle and he closes his eyes for a second. "Seriously, Nikki, what's the number?"

"Why does it matter? You're staying with him after one, aren't you?" Amber asks and I look at her.

"Maybe a little more than that, maybe a little less, I didn't try to keep count." He mumbles.

"Y-You've slept with…you…" I feel a prickling, scalding heat all over my skin.

I get myself away from him to try to calm myself down, but I can't.

It's like putting baking soda and vinegar together.

"Nikki, why did you do that?" Is all I can get out that isn't about how much I hate him right now.

"The same reason you went to him. Because I felt like I didn't have any other option and I was desperate."

"Desperate for what?!" I demand, enraged, now.

"Vivian," Amber starts but I completely cut her short.

"I went to Duff because I had spent years in a marriage with a junkie that did everything he could to choose drugs over me and throw me to the fucking wolves!"

"And I spent years in a marriage to an ungrateful bitch that I couldn't ever make happy!" He snaps next, standing up.

"I would've been plenty happy had you sobered the fuck up!"

"You'd lay in bed for weeks at a time and refuse to take your fucking medication and then wouldn't even let me try to touch you, Vivian, and God fucking knows the times you'd actually let me try to get it in, you'd lay there like sex with me was the most boring chore in the fucking world! And the times you weren't like that, you'd still manage to watch me break my back to make you happy and then spit in my fucking face and act like it wasn't ever gonna be enough, that I wasn't ever gonna be a enough!"

"I was depressed, Nikki!"

"Trust me, I know, I fucking know!" He shouts back.

An ear piercing screech makes us both shut up and wince, and I see Amber holding an airhorn.

"I don't yell." She states, a brow raised as she looks at us. "Sit down. Both of you." She orders next and we both slowly sit down, taking deep breaths. "No wonder you're in such bad shape--neither of you know how to talk to each other. You just talk at each other and start yelling when the other person gets defensive over you talking at them." She snaps, shaking her head a little. "And quit cursing at each other. That's another reason you're in this mess. You're both bitter and poisonous and contaminating each other." She adds, sternly, and we slink down in our chairs. "Vivian, he has shot you, he has strangled you, publicly humiliated you, he has chosen everything under the sun over you, but you draw the line at the fact he's had sex with two-hundred other women?"

I don't say a word.

"Why is that the thing that's going to break the camel's back? When you come in here pregnant with another man's baby and got him on his knees crying and telling you it's his fault?" She goes in on me. "Go from crying and boohooing together to calling each other awful names and cursing and 'eff this' and 'eff that' and 'eff you'--can I tell you something? You can't stand each other now but once upon a time you must've really liked whatever it is that drives you crazy about the other person because you chose each other and married each other." She reminds us. "And I know it isn't just the drugs that cause fights because he's completely sober today and you're jumping on him for being honest with you when there's been times he has lied through his teeth to hell and back to you." She looks at me. "And you," she looks at Nikki. "I better not hear you ever call your wife a 'bitch' again. She's not a dog, even though you love to talk to her like she is one."

Again, we're both quiet.

"Vivian, how do you feel about Nikki admitting to you that he's been unfaithful?" She asks.

"You can't tell how I feel?" I smartly ask.

"Screaming and cursing isn't explaining how you feel. I don't specialize in translating foolishness--I specialize in helping people heal through positive communication--not verbal abuse." She replies. "Now, how do you feel about what your husband shared with you?"

"I'm mad."

"Why?"

"Because…" I feel tears come to my eyes.

"Because why?"

I sniffle.

"You two talk to each other like you've never had to walk through something and communicate peacefully and calmly about a situation." She says next, handing me a tissue.

"We haven't, really." Nikki admits while I'm occupied with trying to stop my crying.

"You've been together for six years, nearly seven, and you've never talked through a disagreement or bump in the road?"

We both just avoid looking at her.

"You just yell and scream until one of you finally gives up in the argument and drops it completely?" She asks next.

"Basically." He says.

"Sex." I add, wiping my nose. "We usually just sleep together and then we're over whatever it is we were fighting about." I explain and she raises her brows.

"I promise you, none of it's been taken care of or gotten over. Anything you've fought about in the past that you tried to fix with sex has all been pent up and built up over the years and has been coming out within the last year, especially, in some form of abuse or neglect to the other person." She informs us. "And that's why you're so angry." She tells me. "Because that is a potent form of intimacy that you have on a pedestal and it's important to you. And while you've been using it over the years as a means to make things right with him, and to try to be intimate with him and reconnect with him while he's been closed off on drugs and not himself, he's been going out and giving it away to whoever."

I nod because it's true and she nods with me.

"I know why he went to so many other women and we'll get to that in a moment, why did you start your relationship with the now father of your child?" She asks me calmly.

"Because I was tired." I admit, my tears finally subsiding. "And I was hurt, and I just needed to be with someone who wouldn't hurt me."

"You needed someone who would protect you."

"Yes." I agree, sniffling.

"There's a theme that keeps reoccurring with you and it's overexposure and need of protection," She tells me and I nod, "Which is typically what fathers are in charge of in the household so tell me what your dad was like while you were growing up." She says and I lick my lips, smiling, thinking of my dad.

"The best dad in the world. He'd help me get ready for recitals if my mom couldn't, he'd take me anywhere I needed to go, he'd help me sneak things past my mom like records or clothes she wouldn't approve of or whatever, he'd be there if I needed to talk about anything--with no judgement--he was really good to me, and he still is." I tell her and she nods, smiling.

"What I'm about to say isn't meant to belittle all the wonderful things he's done for you or undermine the work he's put in to raising you the best he could, but with your incredibly abrasive mother," she starts, "would he ever step in when she was tearing you down or would he just try to keep the peace?"

"He did a couple times but for the most part he'd just tell me to ignore her and wouldn't start anything with her while she was doing it."

"So he didn't protect you when he should have?"

I stop for a moment, and look at her, pointedly.

"I'm not saying he didn't love you or care for you and didn't look out for you--but when it came to your mother, did he or did he not do everything he could to protect you from her mental, spiritual, and emotional abuse?"

"No." I breathe out shakily.

"So you went from a father who didn't protect you and allowed you to be exposed to things you should not have been exposed to, to a husband who didn't protect you and allowed you to be exposed to things you should not have been exposed to."

I nod again.

"Do you know why he's had sex with so many women?"

I shake my head.

I don't think, "because he hates me," would be an acceptable answer.

"Do you know why you've had sex with that many women while you were with Vivian?" She asks Nikki and he thinks about it for a second.

"...I was bored." He says and she chuckles humorlessly.

"Just a second ago you were throwing in her face that you went where you were going to feel appreciated. So put your ego aside." She states, furrowing her brows. "'I did the drugs because I was bored, I slept with all those women because I was bored, I put my wife through a living hell because I was bored'." She mimics so he can see how he sounds when he says it. "I don't think the man sitting here, crying over his wife getting pregnant with another man, had sex with one other woman, let alone two-hundred just because he was bored." She states, matter of fact. "Put this tough guy persona away and just be honest."

He gets really quiet, his leg shaking as his foot taps.

"Do you know the situation with his mother?" She asks me, suddenly.

"I know the gist of it, he hasn't told me much about it." I tell her and she looks at him.

"You expect your wife to understand why you do the things you do but you don't give her the information to piece together why you are the way you were brought up to be." She tells him. "We're out of time, but at some point before we meet again on Saturday, I want you to talk about your relationship with your mother." She says and he nods, hesitantly.

I look at him and can't bring myself to even say goodbye to him before I'm getting up and leaving.

I can barely make it to my car without nearly tripping, tears clouding my vision.

I get inside and hold my chest, feeling as if my heart is breaking all over again.

Neither of us know each other anymore. I don't recognize him, not even sober, and I know he doesn't recognize me.

Is this even worth it after all we've done to each other?

I wrinkle my nose slightly as I put my big toe up the bathtub's water faucet, expecting a big spider or something to bite me.

Dropping my foot back into the water, I let out a breath.

I've been sitting in luke warm water that was hot once upon a time.

Now my skin's pruned and I'm waiting to get the motivation to just get up.

It's the first attempt at self-care in two days and it's only because Nikki's been wanting to fool around and I haven't felt like it.

I'm hoping being clean helps me feel like it.

There's two knocks at the bathroom door before he's barging in, giving me a smile that brings his dimples to life.

"I have food in the kitchen whenever you get out." He tells me, stepping to the tub, sitting on the edge of it.

"I'll be there in a little bit." I assure him.

"That's what you said an hour ago, Vivian." He reminds me harmlessly and I look at him and force myself to smile a tad.

"Oh." I reply.

There's a pause between us and he rubs the back of his neck.

"Vivian, are you okay?" He asks, and I look up at him, forcing myself not to cry, and nod.

"I'm fine, baby," I lie. "Just tired is all."

"Still? You've been in bed for, like, nearly three days." He points out.

"I'm just tired, Nikki." I repeat in the same tone, trying to sound convincing.

He's not buying it, and when drops of tears push past my lashes, I know I'm no longer selling it.

"I think maybe you need to get back on your medication." He suggests very quietly, as if saying it too loud is going to cause me to have a meltdown.

"I don't need to be on it." I argue, wiping my eyes, sniffling and trying to force myself to stop crying.

"Vivian, you're not fucking happy."

"You don't know that."

"I know when you're happy and when you're not." He points out…"Do I need to get you something or buy something or--"

"--I don't want anything, Nikki." I state.

"Well, I do." He informs me. "I wanna see my wife happy, again, genuinely happy. Not that fake bullshit you put on for me." He clarifies. "So, just--"

"--Get out." I say, shutting him down, not wanting to hear about it.

He rolls his jaw and nods, getting up and leaving.

He's back with a glass of water and my bottle of Nardil, putting them both on the side of the tub and standing over me to make sure I take it like he wants me to.

I look at him, hurt, my brows furrowing, my eyes cutting at him, anger coursing through me as more tears topple down my cheeks and tense up.

"Get out." I repeat.

"I'm not leaving until you stop being stubborn and take the damn--"

The water is slung at him while the glass is thrown at the mirror as, "get out!" Screeches out of my throat as I open the bottle and try to ring it in the toilet, sending pills flying in all directions while the bottle with a majority of the pills plops into the water all while I'm repeatedly screeching, "get out, get out, get out!" as tears sting my cheeks.

"Vivian, fuck--"

I'm hauling myself out of the tub and he avoids my violent intent by finally leaving, slamming the door behind him, and I slip and catch myself on the door knob, making sure to lock it as waves of weight push me to the floor, my chest hurting, my body aching, my spirit crying out to God for mercy.

I should have told him then about my recurrent miscarriages, I just didn't know how to. I just let myself take it and deal with it on my own and he took it as me being batshit crazy and depressed. I was, truthfully, but I had reason to be. I struggled with my medication because I didn't want to have to take a pill to be happy, but I was also beginning to think it was ruining my body and skewering each pregnancy. It wasn't, but I didn't know that, so I'd take it for a while, wean myself off, and ease back into it whenever I felt like I needed to through the years. I don't think I ever went a full complete year without purposely getting myself off of it at least once.

I shut my car door as I get out, raising my brow at the site of Duff's car in my driveway, stepping to the front door.

I haven't heard anything from him.

Which I've been prepared not to. I can play the kid off as Nikki's if I have to.

He didn't say anything yesterday when I told him I was pregnant. I mean, literally, nothing.

I sat for twenty minutes just waiting for him to try to discuss it but all he did was sit and stare off into space, his face ghost white while Mandy excused herself to their room and probably cried the rest of the night.

I guess he's got something to say, now.

I go inside, putting my kids on the little table next to the door, kicking my heels off and carrying them in my hand.

I turn the light on when I get out of the foyer, and see Duff passed out on the couch.

He's got a vodka bottle tucked under his arm and put my stuff down and go over to him, taking the bottle away before he spills it on the couch.

He takes in a breath, waking up and rubbing his eyes.

"Hey, Viv," he tells me, sitting up the best he can, trying to pry the sleep from his eyes.

I sit on the coffee table across from him, sighing out.

"Hey, Duff," I reply, looking at him.

"What time is it?" He asks me, next.

"Four o'clock." I inform him.

"Oh," he mumbles, being quiet for another moment. "You look pretty." He says next and I smile a little.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He chuckles. "Which I guess that's what got us into this mess in the first place." He adds. "Well, not you being pretty--just me being a dumbass." He slurs, taking a deep breath.

"Is Mandy okay?"

"Yeaaaah, she's not too happy with me right now." He admits. "I never told her about me and you when we got back together."

"Oh." I say.

"Oh." He repeats.

"You know, Duff, you don't have to do all this…" I start, rubbing my lips together. "...If you're not comfortable with trying to make this work--because it's pretty unconventional--I'm not gonna be upset with you."

"I had a shitty dad who left my mom to deal with bullshit she shouldn't have had to deal with by herself and I'm not doing that to you. That's fucked up. I did the crime, I can do the time." He states, tiredly.

"I'm not gonna be by myself," I remind him, "Nikki's upset but he's not disowning me or anything." I add and he scoffs.

"Of course he isn't." He sighs. "I think Mandy's still gonna stay with me. She hasn't thrown out her ring, so…"

"Her ring?" I ask him, furrowing my brows.

"I asked her to marry me yesterday morning." He informs me.

"Oh, wow, tha-that's great, Duff."

Was it completely stupid for him to propose to Mandy not even seven weeks after we broke up? Absolutely. Was it completely stupid of him to marry her three months later? Absolutely. Was I going to piss on his parade more than I already had? Absolutely not.

#gateway drug #nikki sixx #nikki sixx x oc #nikki sixx fanfiction

35 notes · View notes

thecleverdame · 5 years ago

Text

Origins (one shot)

Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Omega!Werewolf!Reader

This story is set in the Hide and Seek AU. This a prequel to Hide and Seek.

Summary: You're a newly bitten wolf with no idea what you truly are. After being turned, you leave everything you know in hopes of finding a new life and in turn find a pack Alpha willing to take you in.

Warnings: ABO smut, a little dub-con, past assault

Beta: @ilikaicalie

Words: 7.5k

When Nick asked you out on a date, you said yes because he was moderately good looking and seemed interesting. In hindsight Nick probably wasn’t even his real name, but at the time you had no idea that creatures like werewolves even existed. Maybe he picked up on that, your trusting nature and willingness to see the best in people. Maybe that’s why he made you a target.

When he attacked you, he wasn’t trying to change you. The more you go over the details of the assault it’s clear he wanted to kill you. Murder was the end game. He looked excited with his hands wrapped around your neck. His eyes lit up, mouth curled into a thrilled grin as you sputtered and fought back as best you could.

He held you down, then slammed your head against the cement of the sidewalk. You pissed yourself in terror, sure that your last moments were flashing before your eyes. Somewhere in the struggle, he changed into a half human, half wolf that snarled and howled, squeezing tighter and tighter.

When you managed to knee him in the crotch he bit you on the arm. Blood poured down his chin as he looked at you with rage. And then a miracle happened. The sound of a police car filled the night. Blue and red lights swirled and the familiar chirp of the siren sounded.

Nick ran. You laid, staring up at the stars, bleeding profusely from your head and arm, wondering if this was all some cruel joke.

Months Later

The Starlight Motel is old but clean and the best part is that no one bothers you here. You’re a nameless girl in a small town, worlds away from your old life. For the first few months you stretch every dollar, eating ramen noodles and washing your clothes in the bathtub. Anything to make the most of your meager funds.

You’re afraid to be around people. The world is jammed packed with nice, normal humans and you know better than to trust yourself. If you hurt someone you’d never forgive yourself. So you take precautions as best you can. Every night you chain yourself to the bed frame, careful to make sure the cuffs are tight. There’s no room for mistakes.

While you’re not exactly sure of the details, you know some nights you turn into a beast. There are claw marks on the headboard and you've shredded the mattress. The internet says you’re a werewolf and you’re inclined to believe it. You know what you saw when Nick turned. And you know that you can see and hear and smell things no normal person should be attuned to.

All you can do is your best. Lay low, try to stay under control.

When the money runs out you leave the motel and sleep in your car. It’s time you find a way to survive long term and for that you need cash.

You need a job.

There are others like you here. It’s partly why you stayed. When you first arrived in Red Hills you treated yourself to a burger and a beer at The Tavern. The second you stepped in the place you could smell them all around you. And they noticed you too, eyes watching you with interest. You wanted to stay, to find a way to strike up a conversation with one of them but in the end you chickened out and never went back.

But now that you need a job, you figure The Tavern should be your first stop.

The gas tank is hovering just above E as you pull into the parking lot. There’s a gas station just down the road where you’ll use your last few dollars to fill up. It’s just after noon and The Tavern isn’t open. The neon Hot Food! Cold Beer! sign is switched off, but there are two trucks and a car in the lot. Someone must be here.

You check your hair in the rearview, adjusting the neckline of your dress. It’s now or never.

Gravel crunches under your dirty white tennis shoes as you walk up to the building and pull the door open. You’re hit with a blast of cold air and the unnerving quiet of an empty, dark bar. There’s a guy behind the counter, drying freshly washed glass mugs.

He sees you and waves you off.

“We’re not open yet.”

“Oh I’m not here for that. I was hoping maybe you’ve got a job opening.” You walk closer, catching his scent. He’s a wolf. Humans barely register anymore. You belly up to the bar, extending a hand. “I’m Y/N.”

“Andy,” he smiles, drying his hand before shaking yours. After looking you over, he motions to one of the stools. “Never seen you before. You new in town?”

“Yeah. I don’t get out much.” You can smell fresh bacon being cooked in the kitchen and your stomach growls.

“You a waitress?” he asks, picking up the remote and muting the TV above the bar.

“I can be whatever you need me to be.”

“How much are you lookin’ to make?” he asks, giving you his full attention.

“Whatever you’re willing to pay. I just really need a job. I’m a hard worker. I’ll do whatever you need me to. Wash dishes, scrub floors.”

“You’ll probably get some shit, you know, with no…” he looks at your neck and taps his own pulse point with a whistle. “You gotta have thick skin to work here.”

It’s becoming painfully clear there’s a lot you don’t understand about this world.

“I’m good.” You nod. You’re far from thick skinned, but you’re going to have to learn.

“And you can’t work when you’re in heat. The boss doesn’t want a bunch of amped up wolves fighting over who gets a shot at you.” He throws his hands up as if to say not my rule.

In heat. You’ve got no earthly idea what he's talking about. It sounds like you’re going to have to learn a lot of things on the fly.

“Right, got it,” you affirm.

“Well, you’re in luck. We can find a job for you. We lost a waitress last week. I’ll set you up with Laurie for the paperwork. Can you start tonight? We got a new girl!” he shouts toward the kitchen.

“Um.” Your heart falls into your stomach. “Do you ever, you know, have people work off the books?” He gives you a strange look and you panic. You need money. “I’ll work for less. I just don’t have a social security card. I lost it in a...fire.”

“Right.” He stares at you thoughtfully, before tapping the countertop. “Stay here for a minute. I’ll be right back.”

The man that comes back is not Andy. He’s a larger, older man who introduces himself as Benny and smells more like a dog than a wolf. You’ve never been alone with more than one of them at a time and it strikes you how different each of them are.

He stops to look at you, grunts, and then motions for you to follow him. “Over here. Let's have a conversation.”

He slides into a booth and you look around the empty bar hoping for Andy to return, before joining him.

“Andy says you’re looking for a job?” He asks the question but clearly already knows.

“Yes. I’m a hard worker and I-”

“What pack do you belong to? Because it sure as hell isn’t ours.” He chuckles dryly, sitting back and honing in on you.

“Pack?” You’re wide-eyed. Shit. You shouldn’t have come here.

“Are you having trouble understanding me?” He leans forward, both arms on the table. “You must have a pair on you or you’re the dumbest little Omega who ever existed. You’re in our territory without an invitation and you wander into the Alpha’s bar to find work? You got a death wish?”

The Alpha. You gulp, looking around at the empty bar.

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” You panic, holding back tears. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave. I won’t come back.”

You calculate how far you can get on twelve dollars worth of gas. If there’s a stiff wind you might make it to Cold River, but it’s doubtful.

You can tell just by looking at him that he’s both impatient and used to intimidating people. He’s getting off on it. Maybe you’re more perceptive now that you’re a werewolf, but you can feel how he feeds off your fear.

“How long have you been in town?” he asks.

“F-five months,” you stutter. “I can just leave-”

“You’re going to sit your little ass right here. You’ve been here five months and you never bothered to seek out the local pack? You the reason there are bodies piling up over by Route 8?”

“What?” Your mind is reeling. The local news has been reporting a string of murders up and down the highway. He’s accusing you of being a murderer. “I’ve never hurt anyone.”

“Yeah, I bet.” He chuckles, rapping his knuckles on the table. “You part of Eli’s pack? He send you here for a little recon?”

“I don’t know who that is. Honestly, I was just looking for a job. I knew there were people like me here. I didn’t know I should have introduced myself. I’m really sorry. Can I please leave? I won’t bother you again.”

“I already told you that you’re not going anywhere. I don’t like to repeat myself.” He raps his knuckles on the table and stands up. “Stay put.”

You sit in the booth, watching Andy and Benny whisper about you, both of them stealing glances as your anxiety level ratchets up to ten. There’s the sound of cars outside. A rowdy, rough around the edges group of men spill into the building. A half dozen of them, all stinking like wolves.

You’re overcome by all the sensations. All of these people are wolves and they each have their own unique scent. But it’s not just the smell, there’s energy coming each one, setting you even more on edge than you already are. One by one they sniff the air and then look toward you before lining up at the bar.

The last man to enter fills the entire door frame, he’s tall with broad shoulders. He looks around, his eyes fix on you immediately as if he already knew you’d be here. Benny wanders over and they have a quick exchange as he points in your direction. Next thing you know this new man is walking up to you.

He’s the Alpha, you know it in your bones. You don’t need anyone to tell you because you can feel him.

The moment he’s close enough for you to catch his scent, you throw up over the side of the booth, onto the cement floor. He doesn’t smell bad, but his scent is too thick, stronger than anything else you’ve ever experienced. He stops short, looking down his shoes, before turning his attention back to you.

“What did you do to her?” he asks over his shoulder.

“Nothing!” Benny throws up both hands. “Just gave her a talking to and she got all cagy. I’ll get a mop.”

“I’m so sorry!” You look up in horror, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. The tears that you’ve managed to hold at bay spill from the corners of your eyes. “I didn’t mean to make a mess.”

“Why are you crying?” he asks, sliding into the booth across from you.

“I’m scared,” you admit.

“Of me?”

“Of all of you.”

“You don’t need to be scared, just take a moment and calm down.” He turns, shouting to Benny across the bar. “Bring us a wet rag!”

“Got it!” Benny confirms from somewhere in the back.

“Take a couple of deep breaths.” Long fingers strum over the table. “We’re just going to talk.”

Benny arrives with a damp towel and water, setting both in front of this new man.

“If someone would just tell me the rules, I can follow them.” You wipe your mouth with the rag, watching as he carefully slides the glass of water across the table to you.

“Why don’t we take it back a notch. We’ll start with the basics. I’m Sam. What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you whisper, taking a drink.

“And you came in looking for a job?”

“Yes. I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to be in here.”

“It’s alright,” he offers a little smile. “You told Andy you needed to be paid under the table because you don’t have a social security card. Why not?”

You could lie, make up a story. But the truth is you’re holding all this together by a shoestring that’s about to snap.

“I’m trying to stay under the radar, but I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. My parents will eventually come looking for me. Since I have no idea who to go to about getting a fake ID, I figured I’d try to find a place that would pay me cash.”

“Why don’t you want your parents to find you?” he asks.

“Because of what I am!” You break, tears coming back in full force. “I almost killed my mom. One minute I was fine and the next minute I could hear her heart beating and it made me fucking hungry. If I hadn’t left I would have lost control.”

You hate thinking about that night. The night you realized that nothing would be the same. You’d been in denial pretending you could control yourself, but after that, you knew you had to leave.

“It’s okay.” He nods, leaning forward with both elbows on the table. “It’s an admirable thing to walk away from your family instead of hurting them. What happened to the wolf who turned you?”

“I don’t know. He left me to die. I don’t think I was supposed to survive.”

“I’m very sorry that one of us did this to you without your consent. That’s an awful thing.” His forehead scrunches together, studying your reaction.

“I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never been on my own before. I mean, in college but that was different. I took all the cash I had and I ran. And now I’m out of money. I’m sleeping in my car. I’ve got twelve dollars left before I’m completely broke. I just wanted a job. I’m not trying to cause trouble.”

“I believe you.” He tilts his head, eyes narrowing.

“That man said I shouldn’t be here because I’m not part of your pack. I didn’t know, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. There are well-defined rules, but if you didn’t have someone to take you through the transition, how would you know.” He stops to think, tongue darting out between his lips. “You need pack to survive. To teach you about who and what you are. Would you like to stay here and be part of my pack?”

All the air goes out of the room as you stare at him, then at the men lined up at the bar. Sam is handsome and seems friendly enough but he’s also terrifying.

“What would it mean to be part of your pack?” you ask.

“You would be loyal to the pack and I will take care of you. You live by our rules, contribute to the pack when asked. In return, I’ll find you a job and a place to live. I’ll protect you. You’ll have a family.”

Can it really be as easy as this? Going from total solitude to a community of people who already know your secret.

“What if I don’t want to?”

“You can leave right now.” He shrugs, but his eyes say something different. “But you’re a werewolf who doesn’t understand the gravity of what she is. You’re an unclaimed Omega without a pack who’s sleeping in a parking lot. I don’t think you have many options.”

“What does that mean, Omega?” you ask, eager for any information. “He called me that too.”

“It’s part of what you are. There are other Alphas, like me. And Omegas and Betas. We can get into the specifics later. What you need to know is that it’s not safe for you to be out there on your own. Stay here and let me take care of you.”

You’re quiet for a moment. Every man in the room is silent and still, watching their Alpha. And in turn, he’s watching you with an unwavering stare.

“What does it mean to be loyal to you? Would you expect me to…” Your cheeks flush red. You can’t bring yourself to say it. But all these men ogling you like you’re a cartoon turkey leg are sending a clear message.

Sam shakes his head. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“You swear?” you ask and he smiles a wonderful, genuine smile in response.

“I swear.”

Your stomach growls. This time it’s so loud the whole bar must be able to hear it.

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” you admit, looking at your hands.

“Let’s get you something to eat then.”

“I can’t pay,” you whisper. “I would but I need to put gas in my car and I-”

“It’s alright,” he hushes, reaching across the table and curling his hand around your closed fist. It’s immediate and electric. You both stare at each other as a jolt travels from his hand to your stomach, then lower. He feels it too because he pulls away as if he’s been stung. His eyes narrow, jaw going stiff. He yells back toward the bar. “Bring her a cheeseburger.”

He leaves you alone while you eat. No one’s so much as comes within ten feet of you and you get the distinct feeling they’re following an order. When he does come back, he’s sipping an open beer.

“Come on, I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

You walk behind him, painfully aware of every set of eyes watching as you follow Sam down the back hallway.

“In here.” He uses a key to unlock a door and it swings open to reveal an office, his office. There’s a worn-out sofa in the corner. “You can sleep here until we find you a place. The bathroom is in there. There’s a shower. It’s not five stars but it’s safer than your car.”

“Are you sure?” You glance back down the hall. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, it’s just, there’s a lot of people here.”

“The door locks. I’ve got the only key. I’ll give it to you when I leave. You’re safe here.”

There are a thousand reasons why you shouldn’t trust him and yet you do. He’s close, standing right beside you. You wish he’d touch you again, to feel that little zing that made your thighs quiver.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Lost in thought I guess.” You take a step back. “If I’m not interrupting your workday, do you think I could have a few minutes to clean myself up? I’ve been using the shower at the truck stop but it’s so dirty and I’m always worried about someone barging in.”

“Of course.” He shoves a hand in his pocket. “I have errands to run. When you’re done go find Andy. He’ll set you up for tonight, get you working. We’ll get you some cash so you don’t feel so trapped.”

“Thank you.” You mean it. He has no reason to offer this kind of assistance. Maybe there’s a quid pro quo coming, but his generosity seems genuine. “I’m not a Pollyanna you know. I might come across as a pushover because I’m overwhelmed, but I’m a strong person. I wouldn’t let anyone take advantage of me.”

“Good.” He walks toward the door, turning back for a final look. “I look forward to getting to know the real you.”

“Hey, I was told you’re the man to see.” You place both hands on the bar, happy to be back in the company of Andy. He’s got a goofy quality to him, friendly and unassuming.

“Indeed I am.” He hands you an apron. “The boss said you need tips. I guess we’ll see what kind of waitress you are.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Laurie will be here soon. She’s human, as are half the people who come in here. So ixnay on the werewolf talk.”

“Got it,” you confirm.

“Write all your orders out. Until you develop a shorthand, Bobby wants everything as clear as possible.”

“And Bobby is…”

“The cook.” Andy thumbs back toward the kitchen. “We’ve got a limited menu. Burgers, tacos and nachos are all anyone ever orders. You’ll be fine. We’re pretty relaxed but no breaks between 11 and 2. We’re too busy. The late shift at the mill lets out at 12:30 and we get slammed on Friday and Sunday. So if you need a smoke break do it before or after.”

“I don’t smoke.”

“Me neither.” He goes through a mental checklist, counting with his fingers. “Oh, if anyone gets handsy, touches your ass, you tell Benny. He’ll take care of it.”

“Good to know.” You can’t imagine going to Benny for anything after what an asshole he was earlier. Maybe being part of his pack will sweeten his disposition.

“Oh, before I forget, here.” He slides an envelope across the counter.

“What’s this?” you ask, peeking inside. There’s a stack of twenty-dollar bills.

“An advance.”

“How much is here?” You thumb through the bills. “I don’t need all this. I haven’t done any work yet.”

“Sam said five hundred.” Andy holds up his palm. “I just do what he tells me.”

“Right, thanks.”

You shove the envelope in your pocket, then head back to the office to hide it in your bags.

An hour later you’re sitting across from Laurie, a friendly woman who looks to be about your age. She’s got mousy brown hair and smells like menthol cigarettes. Her nails are bitten into short nubs, adorned with chipped red polish. Sipping Mountain Dew out of a plastic bottle, she goes through the list of your shared responsibilities.

“I work the bar, you handle the tables. It’s gonna be crazy. We need at least two more servers, but people don’t stick around here very long. The girl before you was great but I knew she wouldn’t last.”

“Why not?” you ask, popping a tortilla chip into your mouth.

“I can just tell. I have a sixth sense about these things. Too naive, couldn’t handle the guys. This can be a rough crowd. She was tall, blonde...probably why Sam hired her. He likes pretty girls.” She points to you.

“I think I was just in the right place at the right time.” You blush, folding your hands in your lap.

“There aren’t many options here. We get the long haul truckers, the guys from the mill and Harvey’s construction service. Guys who work sixteen hours a day and come here to blow off steam. You gotta watch yourself.”

“I’ll be alright.” You’re trying to convince yourself as much as her.

You spend the afternoon in the stockroom taking a full inventory of liquor and beer. It’s a dark, dingy room packed to the gills with unorganized supplies. You count cases and bottles until you can hardly think straight. You haven’t used your brain this much in months. It’s exhausting.

There a soft knock on the door and Sam pokes his head in.

“Hi.” You smile, looking away as your cheeks go hot. Christ, he smells so good.

“Hi.” He grins, sliding next to you in front of the shelves. “How are things going?”

“I’m good.” You suppress the urge to giggle, overcome with bubbling excitement to be this close to him.

He looks over the bottles, feigning interest. “Were you looking for me?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to thank you for everything. I went from having zero prospects, to having a job and a place to sleep. And the cash advance...I really appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”

“I’m the pack Alpha. It’s what I do. You’re one of us now.”

“Is that why you smell so good?” you ask, instantly mortified. “Sorry, it’s just, no one else smells the way you do. Is that because you’re an Alpha?”

“No,” Sam chuckles, then clears his throat. “That’s something else.”

“Oh,” you whisper, looking at the floor. You want to crawl under the rack.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ve never met an Omega with a scent like yours.”

“You like the way I smell?”

“Like is an understatement.” He looks at you, eyes dropping down your body and back up. There’s little subtlety in this new world.

“Do you have someone?” you ask, looking up at him. Those eyes entrance you, spellbound in a frozen moment where it’s only the two of you and the rest of the world melts away.

“No.” He steps closer, a hand reaching out to run the back of his fingers across your cheek to your ear. You shiver at the touch, your whole body going tingly, sucking in a shaky breath.

“I would think that being the Alpha you wouldn’t have trouble finding women.”

“I have plenty of options,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb over your cheekbone. “But finding a woman to fuck and finding a mate are two very different things.”

“I see,” you pull away, slinking out of his reach.

“What I said bothered you?” He looks genuinely surprised.

“No,” you lie. “But I’m not the kind of person who would offer myself up to be another notch on your belt.”

“I never thought you would be.” His implications are clear but you’ve reached your capacity for the day and he can sense it. “I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“No, I just, um, the way you smell makes it hard for me to think straight. I’m not sure that’s fair.”

“Probably not.” He gives you one final look and slips back out the door.

The night wears on. You move from the storeroom to the main bar as it gets busier. The Tavern is the only place with a liquor license in fifty miles. Every drunk in the county is drawn like a moth to a flame.

Laurie wasn’t kidding. You can’t keep up with slinging beers much less food, but you try your damndest, running from one end of the place to the other.

“You alright, kid?” Bobby asks, shoving a burger across the window from the kitchen to the pickup area at the side of the bar.

“Yeah, I’ll get used to it,” you smile, checking the order slip.

“Why don’t you take a breather.” Bobby wipes off his hands and takes the plate himself. “I got you covered for a few minutes.”

“You’re a lifesaver. Thank you.” You head back toward Sam’s office, only to be met by a man twice your size. “Excuse me.” You try to get around him, but he blocks your way.

“Look at you,” he grins, rocking to the side. He’s a wolf, his scent is musty and laced with old beer and weed. “You’re the new one, huh?”

“Yeah, my first night.” You sidestep and he counters.

“You in a hurry? You should slow down a little.” He takes a step forward and you retreat in tandem.

“Please don’t...” you whisper.

“Don’t what?” He smiles, getting closer. “Just tryin’ to get to know you a little better.”

“I-I’m working,” you sputter, trying to look past him. You could scream, but the music is so loud no one would hear you.

“Don’t be rude,” he sneers. “I bet you’d like me if you gave me a chance.”

“What the fuck are you doing back here, Virgil?” Sam’s voice booms from behind the man. “Get off her.”

Sam grabs Virgil by the nape of his neck, pulling him off you as he shouts in protest.

“I wasn’t doing nothin’!” he hollers, walking on his tiptoes as Sam pushes him backward. “We were talkin’.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Sam pulls the man close, leaning down to hiss into his ear. Both of them staring directly at you. “You get out of here and don’t come back. I’m not gonna tell you twice. Understand?”

“Yep,” he nods enthusiastically. Sam lets him go, and he scrambles away.

“You alright?” Sam asks.

No, you’re not alright. You’re shaking like a leaf.

“I just..h-he t-took me off guard. That’s all.”

“Come here.” He takes you by the arm, ushering you toward his office. His touch alone is enough to send you reeling.

“I never used to be so scared,” you explain. Sam closes the door, giving you his full attention. “It wasn’t being turned into a werewolf that spooked me. It was the attack itself. He tried to kill me and now I’m a mess every time some guy comes on to me.”

“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he promises softly, getting closer until you have to tip your head back to look up at him. You believe him. Sam feels like safety, like belonging.

“Why are you so nice to me?” you ask.

“The same reason your heart speeds up when we’re together.”

He’s right, your heart is thumping fast and hard at the proximity. You hardly know him, you definitely should not entertain the host of ideas swirling in your head. It’s a constant stream of all the dirty, nasty things you’d let him do to you.

Sam is handsome, big and powerful, and the first person to make you feel truly safe in a long time. But he’s also got you riled. His very presence sparks an instant and overpowering attraction that you’ve never felt before.

“You know,” he slinks toward you and you step back in tandem until your back meets the wall. “If you smelled like me, they wouldn’t bother you. It’s the second-best thing to having my mark on your neck.”

His mark. You’re not sure what that means but not opposed to finding out.

“I’m not a one night stand,” you whisper, fractured and needy. “I’m not disposable.”

“I don’t plan on getting rid of you,” he whispers, grinning slyly as a hand finds your hip. You moan as his fingers curl into skin and then his body is pressing against yours, the weight of him pinning you to the wall. His head drops down, nose and mouth, hot and open against your neck as he breathes in. You’re unsure of what this is, but it feels supremely intimate as he scents you. His other hand slides under your jaw, holding your head in place while he nips under your ear. His hips press forward and you can feel his cock straining through his jeans, pressing against your stomach.

“You feel how hard you make me?” he murmurs, sucking your earlobe into his mouth. You nearly come off the ground, whimpering and shaking. Desperate to hold on, you loop an arm around his neck. You grab his hand, prying it off your hip and placing it over your crotch. He smiles against your neck, pulling back to get a look at you. “You want me to show you what being an Omega means?”

“Yes,” you nod.

His hand finds its way under your dress, then down the front of your panties. Two long, thick fingers press along either side of your clit and curl under. He strokes between your folds, first where you’re sticky and then sinking inward where you’re wet and burning up inside.

You hiss, feeling him push in up to his knuckles.

“Fuck.” He’s breathless, pulling out and pushing back in as you twist on his fingers. “I’m going to stretch you open...so wet for me, Omega. Fucking perfect.”

“Sam!” You practically cry out, moving your hips down against his hand as he fucks you, slow and measured. The two fingers inside scissor open and you snap your head back against the wall with a thud, moaning as he continues to stroke inside your cunt.

He pulls his hand from between your legs and drops to his knees right there on the carpet. Lifting your dress around your hips, he peels your panties down your legs until you’re able to step out of them. He looks up, grinning wide and then buries his face in your cunt as you squeal.

His tongue is thick and strong, licking over your clit and then down between your folds, following the path of his fingers. It darts in and out of your soaked hole, tasting and grunting, trying to get as far inside you as he can with his nose pressed against your bud.

You can hear it, the sound of his tongue in your pussy. It’s the most obscene thing you could have ever imagined, the wet squelch echoing off the walls of his office.

Sam huffs, hot breath over your mound as he feasts. Both his hands dig into the clammy skin on the back of your thighs, holding you open and keeping you up right at the same time.

“Sam, fuck, I, fuck,” you ramble, head thrashing side to side. You fist two hands of his hair, grinding your cunt into his face until it’s not clear where you end and he begins.

Before you know what’s happening he’s back on his feet, pressing against your lips in a crushing kiss. You can taste yourself on him as he pulls you close. You suck on his tongue, wanting more of anything and everything he’s offering.

“Come here,” he growls. Picking you up off the floor, your pussy grinds against the front of his shirt before he drops you onto the couch and rips his shirt over his head. His pants come off next, hopping on one foot as he stares at you.

Wedging a hand between your thighs, you rub your clit, watching as his underwear slide down. His cock is huge, swollen and curved up against his stomach. You’ve only ever seen a cock this big in porn, but here he is. Just as beautiful as he is intimidating.

He takes his cock in his hand, stroking himself and licking his lips. Both of you touching yourselves at the anticipation of what comes next.

He reaches for your legs, running his hand up the back of your calves and hooking under each knee. Your hand falls away from yourself at the sight of him spreading you open and kneeing his way between your thighs.

Looking to you for final confirmation, he grabs his dick, pushing the head against your pussy and sinking inside. His hips slide forward, pushing until you’re sure he’s going to split you in two. There’s no more you can possibly take and yet you open up until he’s rooted. His eyes roll back into his skull and your tongue pushes against the roof of your mouth.

“Uh,” you pant, grabbing at his biceps. Your eyes open and close, mouth open in a constant, agonizing moan. You’re full and stretched and hovering on the edge of something unknown.

His lips find yours, meeting in an open-mouth kiss. He grunts, sucking on your lower lip as he pulls back, cock dragging thick and slow. He’s almost completely out, just the head left inside, before giving a solid thrust back home.

“Fuck,” he groans, finding a quick pace, fucking you root to tip with every stroke. He buries his face into your neck, one hand cupping a breast as he ruts into your pussy. He turns, kissing under your chin, licking a stripe from between your collar bones, upward. “Gonna knot you, make you cum so hard.”

You’ve got no earthly idea what he means, but you want it all. Your entire body is quaking with the intensity from having him inside you. The wet sound of your body taking his cock fills the room until all you can hear is his constant grunting and the slap of bodies coming together.

“Sam,” you urge him on, gripping the sweaty hair at the back of his neck with one hand, the other sliding down the fake leather of the couch.

“Alpha,” he nips at your jaw. A hand fists into your hair, short nails digging into your side as he holds you in place, thrusting faster, harder. “Call me Alpha when I’m inside you.”

“Alpha,” you breathe, nodding in submission. You’ll call him anything he wants as long you get to fuck him again.

“Turn over,” he instructs, plucking a wet kiss before pulling away. You’re empty and cold, everything between your legs sticky, as you give him a look and roll onto your stomach. “Hands and knees. Spread your legs for me, Omega.”

You assume the position, pushing your ass into the air as he settles between your calves. One hand pressed on the small of your back as his cock pushes back into your cunt. In this position, you have no control over how deep he can get. Surging forward, you get a sense of his real power when his pelvis smacks into your backside.

He fucks hard, hips moving fast, then faster until your cunt is almost raw from the friction. It’s when he slows down that you feel something different, the stretch becoming increasingly more challenging.

“What’s happening?” You reach back behind yourself, and he grabs your hand still stroking in and out, in and out, growing thicker by the second. “Alpha,” you try to look behind you. His hand pulls your hip backward, grinding his cock as deep as he can get. Whatever is happening, it’s more than your body can take. “Sam, please, it hurts.”

“It’s okay,” he gulps, curling over your back. “It’s gonna feel good. You’re gonna cum, just trust me.”

“I can’t, I-”

He pulls out one final time before ramming back inside. His cock has to work to get inside you, pushing with unrelenting force until your pussy finally opens up for him. And then the pressure becomes unbearable and snaps. His cock swells and you see stars. The pain morphs, curls into something else altogether. Vision blurs, time stops and you cum like a freight train, jerking and twitching.

“Fuck,” he wheezes, rocking forward, both hands gripping the arm of the couch, framing your shoulders.

You’re out of your mind. Floating on a sexual high that shouldn’t exist. You can feel it, the warmth spreading inside. The way your cunt milks his cock until you’re filled to the limit with cum and it leaks down your thighs.

There’s nothing more to do than concentrate on breathing as every muscle in your body contracts and releases. Little shocks jerking your body as his mouth kisses the top of your spine.

“Holy shit.” You collapse under him, letting his weight press you down into the sofa. “What is that?”

“My knot.” He rocks forward again, tugging deep within your pussy. “Does it feel good?”

“Ahmm,” you nod, cheek sticking to the couch.

He strokes his hand up and down your sides, mouth kissing at your shoulder, over your back. When he finally finds his way back to your lips, you’re hungry for him again. Opening up to feel the slide of his tongue over yours. His knot lessens little by little until he can pull out.

“Turn over,” he instructs, a rush of his cum running out of your swollen cunt.

He sits on his heels, taking one leg and pulling it up over his shoulder. Two fingers sink into your pussy, easily sliding into the warm, sticky mess between your legs.

“I feel like you drugged me,” you smile up at him, gasping as his fingers twist deeper inside you. His cock is just as hard as before he came, bobbing obscenely below his belly. “You’re still hard.”

“You’re still wet.” He teases you, looking at your sex, his thumb pressing at your bud. “You need more?”

“I don’t think I’m done yet.” You’re drunk on him, on his skin and his hands, how fucking dirty this all feels.

“I’ll make you cum until you can’t walk,” he grins.

“Promise?” You raise an eyebrow and he looks at you in amusement.

“You’re gonna get it now.”

“Oh yeah?” You goad him. “What could possibly-oh fuck.”

He leans forward, his mouth closing around a nipple, sucking, then teeth biting until you’re squirming along this new line of pleasure and pain.

It’s the gentle clicking of a keyboard that wakes you up. You’re belly down in his bed, opening your eyes to the sight of Sam sitting propped against a pillow, with a laptop on his lap. Stretching out long, you yawn and let your eyes fall closed again.

You remember him dragging you out of the bar. Pulling over on the side of the road when you were overcome with the sudden urge to suck his cock.

“Did I wake you up?” he asks and you blink your eyes open again.

“Yeah, but it’s okay.” You smile into the pillow. His very presence makes you giddy. “I was afraid you were a dream. That I was going to wake up back in my car.”

“I’m real.” He smiles, punching the enter key and closing the computer, setting it on the side table. Turning on his side, he props himself up on an elbow, looking down at you in amusement. “You were exhausted. You were out the minute your head hit the pillow.”

“I was, I still am. You wore me out. And it’s been a long time since I really slept. Even at the motel, I felt uneasy. What time is it?”

“Almost six.”

“You’re an early riser.”

“Normally, yeah. I get up, work out. Go over the numbers from the bar.”

“You stayed in bed for me?”

“I didn’t want you to wake up and think I left you. Besides, I’d rather be here with you.”

You grin, pressing your face into the pillow and laughing. That same excitement you felt yesterday floods back.

“What's wrong?” Sam chuckles as you roll onto your back

“You make me feel like I just woke up next to my high school crush. Or I won the lottery or something.”

“Endorphins. I feel it too.” He lays down on his back, taking your hand into his and holding it up to inspect your fingers. “Things move fast in our world.”

“That's an understatement.” You take a deep breath, staring at this handsome man beside you. “I can’t believe I’m here.”

“Here with me or here metaphorically?”

“Both. Yesterday morning I thought I was going to starve to death in my shitty car. Now I’m here with a guy I hardly know. But I feel like I do know you. My head is spinning.”

“Do you regret it?” he asks, turning to look at your face as he holds your hand against his chest. “Maybe I should have slowed things down. Given you more time. It’s just when I smelled you, I knew.”

“Knew what?”

“We were meant to be together. That we were going to be together. You’re my mate.”

He grins, big and broad, so happy his eyes wrinkle into little lines. You choke on your own spit, stunned by this declaration.

“What? How could you even know?”

“I can feel it, smell it on you.” His hand spreads out over your stomach as he watches his fingers stretch out.

It sounds crazy but you know it’s true. The minute he said the word you felt something whirl to life.

“We just met,” you whisper, suddenly apprehensive. “This doesn’t scare you?”

“That’s the beauty of what we are. When we know, we know. You’re mine. I can feel it in my bones.”

You stare at him, looking down at your stomach and the width of the enormous hand covering you from hip to hip.

“I’m scared,” you admit.

“I understand why, but you don’t need to be.” His hand moves to your face, stroking over your jaw. “I’ll take care of you, make you mine. You’ll always have everything you need.”

“And what if I’m not the person you imagine me to be?” you ask quietly. “I’m messy. I hate waking up before noon and I’m selfish.”

“That’s okay. You’re allowed to be human, it’s half of what we are.”

#alpha sam winchester #alpha!sam x omega!reader #sam winchester smut #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader

626 notes · View notes

memnonofarcadia · 4 years ago

Text

Remembering Joey Bruno

Originally published in the Sacramento Jazz & Blues Quarterly Bedtime is sometime around dawn. Dinner is usually whatever you want it to be. Shall we go to Iceland? Festivals, fliers, wristbands, Sharpies on skin, smoke, grass, hash, molasses, sky, blue, crisp, clear sky. And yet I’m still writing all this within a grey airport terminal, locked into some kind of strange Druid-esque ritual with pen and paper. Deadline is tomorrow, where were you when you were supposed to be working? Don’t have any answers for now, just that I need to write and get it out to my boss within the next day. Or two. It wouldn’t have been the first deadline blown. But think, distract myself with the McDonald’s coffee and keep putting down adjectives and phrases from places I’ve been, things I’d seen, dreams I’d never have again with people I’ve never met and music I had. 40 minutes till boarding starts, I’ll be last, of course. It pays enough to fly but not enough to enjoy it. Been getting harder and harder to deal with the travel, at any rate. Starting to notice the spell everyone is under, the sleepwalking nature of the corporate employee. It had only been noticeable after it had been broken, which I had no problem doing, ever. When your home is a hotel you take your shots however you can get them, besides it wasn’t like you have to live in any particular town past a few days at most. Half-heartedly started keeping a list of rejections and their professions, making sure to note that there was only one waitress on the list, most were from bookstores or places where there was an escape for all parties. Don’t need to make it more awkward than it has to be. Sorry, I didn’t mean, then the words fade off into the ocean. On the edge of nowhere, like a little seaside town. Maybe that’s where I’d like to end up, like a lifeguard in the post-apocalypse, no responsibilities, just looking cool for the seagulls. How many life guards had I asked out? Not many, either way. Concerts didn’t go well with water, not in my experience. Can’t seem to find a way to write about anything other than something on the present times, life and times. I struggle, already flipped through the notebooks to jog the memory with some tit and tat that had to be discarded for the sake of length from another article. Or two. Or four. Or 12. Throwing yourself to the wolves, towards and into the meat grinder that one might just pay the bills with the right amount of ink in the right places on a blank piece of paper. Who cares about music festivals and pop culture when there’s McDonald’s coffee and the cold inside of an airplane to look forward to? Four times I’d attempted to ask about an airline attendant’s relationship status, thrice I’d been rejected. Once she’d pretended not to hear me and instead moved to the opposite end of the plane for the remainder or the flight. Understandable, no harm done. No harm done. By anyone, right? Who said this was ever going to be a love story, you and I?

College had been a breeze, not that I’m bragging. State schools were like that, at least then, and Californ-I-A’s were no different. No doubt now there’s better options available for where I was at when I had to decide where to go to school, but there you are. A degree in journalism is a degree in journalism, and I had little else to go on other than my love of music, substances, travel, female company, and a shocking talent at being able to string together sentences. In a way it’s always given me a bit of a guilty feeling. I never sat down and really worked at learning or improving with regards to writing, I just sort of could do it. That’s the short version of how I found my niche of a career, one I thought I could exploit anyway. Turns out I was right, and in a way it was everything I could (and did!) hope for. Except everybody’s got to grow up sometimes, and I did, regrettably. There’s only so many hungover mornings a human being can take before they’re permanently reduced to a shambling, sickly mess of what used to be a humanoid organism, and I had certainly put myself on that path. Got off of it, thanks to the countless AA meetings I made myself go to, but I digress. That had been the first mark on the wall of things that I could no longer enjoy about the gig, the fact that now I had to do the whole thing sober. The hardest substance I have confidence I can enjoy responsibly now is coffee, and even then the ugly demon of acid reflux put me back in my place before too long. Suddenly all the kids were much more annoying than usual, the travel a hassle, the food revolting, and the music itself just kind of bad, which was the real heartbreaker. Some days before it had been all to keep me going, minus the women, which were always a constant. “Festival sluts” is the term you’ll want to Google (or DuckDuckGo) if you’re curious about what I mean, also colloquially known as upper middle class girls whose parents were too busy working to devote anything past a friendly “hullo” to their children, and thus succeeded in raising a bunch of hedonistic, attention-desperate, and morally naïve young people with excess income and too much time to spend it all in. Nasty ain’t it? But it kept me coming back for more, like the good-natured animal that I am. We all are. That’s the secret that I learned more than anything from the beat, we are all more simple and pleasure driven than we could ever articulate or realize. It’s what keeps the lights on at home, for everything and anything. Probably. Or maybe I’m just bitter. Most of the friends I made during college or were colleagues in my escapades writing about indie rock et al. around the globe are gone now. Burnt out, some burnt up, most just couldn’t hack it anymore and left to go get real jobs at real newspapers. The circus, or pirate ship, as is probably more accurate a nomer, is not for everyone, and rarely does it last forever. Bet you’re wondering where that leaves me. Still bitter, but still coming back for more, just like I was always going to. Always. So why don’t I quit? You tell me. Because I know why.

The finest writer I ever met was a journalist by the name of Joey Bruno, a guy I came across one of the many late nights I spent at the pathetic office of my college’s newspaper. I was editing a freshman’s piece about how the White Album was actually really bad, sighing uncontrollably the whole time, when Mr. Bruno walked in and struck up a conversation with yours truly. I happily engaged, as any activity that didn’t involve that stupid piece of writing was fine by me. He explained that he was friends with the real Editor , who was at his parents’ in Wisconsin for the weekend, and would drop by periodically when he got off work to help out where he could. “Why spend your time working on bad writing by dumb college kids?” I’d asked him. “Free beer, plus it can be fun sometimes. There’s been plenty of stuff come through here that I rewrote beyond all recognition just for fun, and nine times out of ten the original author doesn’t even notice. Good times.” Maybe so, I’d thought. In any case every other Friday or thereabouts I’d get a late night revising buddy to help cull the newspaper’s intimidating stack of submissions. It was in those early morning hours that I came to the conclusion that I wanted to become a music journalist, mostly from talking to Mr. Bruno about his own adventures. But I don’t think I listened, not really. Maybe if I had I’d be off this conveyor belt by now, but then again maybe not. Maybe I’d never have started. One night in particular while we were enjoying our cigarettes, coffee, and beer (all courtesy of the newspaper of course), he retailed me with a story of his long lost love, a girl he’d known briefly in the California punk scene of the late 80s. I was instantly entranced. “It was a magical time,” he’d said to me while stroking his magnificent beard. “But I’m glad it’s over now. It was getting messy there at the end,” I brought up how those little parts of the world, at that time were being romanticized an awful lot in contemporary media then. “And for good reason, too.” He’d responded wistfully. “A lot of great things happened for a lot of good people. It was about as close to the 60s as anyone came since then, I think. That much hope,” And this is where he began to tell his story, the story of “the rebel known as ‘Justine,’” as he’d put it. However it had happened, the two had come into contact through the various zines they’d each produced and sent out to the other punks in town. The closest thing to an internet forum for back then was to just be louder than everyone else, apparently. That was the only real way to get heard, to start a dialogue of some kind. That or take your chances at the shows, which they did anyway, but there wasn’t much talking going on there. Joey had written to Justine complimenting her on “Pop!,” which was her way of pushing her radical politics and militant-feminist views out on to the unsuspecting public behind the thin-façade of a bubblegum periodical. The art had been good, and the writing made everyone Joe showed it to laugh out loud, so he made a point to let the author know, whoever they were. There was an address included in the back for people to write in, so he did just that. He also included a copy of his own creation, the somewhat popular (in those circles anyway) “Buzz ‘n’ Stuff.” “What was it about?” I asked as my friend rolled himself another cigarette. “Nothing really, I just sort of made stuff about interesting things I found at the library then slapped it together in that. It seemed to work. I remember the one I sent her had something about how to get popped bubblegum out of your hair without cutting it all off, so I think that’s what got her interested. There wasn’t anything of value or substance in there, let’s be real,” Joey took another swig of his beer and reached into the cooler below his desk for another, being sure to throw me one too like a sport. “Thanks, boss. But continue, you got me interested now,” So he did. It had started slowly, really, with the trading of zines and letters, the occasional patch or pin by mail too. Eventually after a lengthy correspondence they made a plan to meet up at a concert, The Vandals to be precise. Joey had taken painstaking measures to show up in the most hip clothing of the day, studded leather jacket, combat boots, the whole nine yards. “I looked like a freak,” he told me with a chuckle. “But then I saw her,” Justine had arrived looking like everything and nothing Joey had expected her to. She had the familiar punk gear, Doc Martins and an army jacket covered in patches and safety pins, but the rest of what she had on departed from the norm drastically. It had been some bizarre cross between a punk, hippy, and cult leader all in one, macabre golden jewelry offsetting the “meat is murder” t shirt underneath. “It was great,” said Joey. “People were afraid of her at that show. She looked really scary,” They hit it off and had a jolly old time watching The Vandals play, and later they found themselves alone on a hill overlooking the suburbs, talking about the issues and passing a joint back and forth. It was all music to my ears, as it would be for most any young person, I suspect. “Tell me more,” I’d implored. These were fantasies that I needed fulfilled. Joey paused and rocked back and forth in his chair contently for a few seconds before he complied. My heart sank before he spoke. “We were inseparable after that first time. It really was something. We could go anywhere, do anything, and we would always end up on the same page somehow. It was easily the deepest spiritual, emotional, whatever you want to call it connection I’ve ever had with another human being, let alone girlfriend. But then a year or two later her Mom moved her and her brother up to Connecticut to be closer to the rest of their family. Last I heard she went to school in Maine, but that was it as far as we were concerned. Finito,” He smiled through all this as though recalling some rosy-cheeked memory but I was aghast. “What do you mean that’s it? You didn’t try to follow her or anything?” Joey just laughed. “Yeah, that was really an option at 17 without a car or money. It was just something that happened when we were kids, nothing really. I’m glad it happened at all, now.” Well then. What do you make of that? The conversation drifted pretty heavily after that point, as it always did when Joey and I got to jabbering and drinking, and as usual it was stories of the times he’d been on tour years later with Ozzy Osbourne or The Stooges or someone, then got to interview them endlessly and write about it. The usual vices were there as well in his stories, the drugs, the travel, the women, the glamor, the romance. But it all left pretty quickly once the novelty wore off, hence why Joey had quit after a few years and moved back home to Sacramento. When I knew him at the college newspaper he was a jazz correspondent, if you can wrap your head around that, for several of the snootier publications in the area. “I skipped to the fun part,” he told me. “The shows never get old, now. Plus jazz cats have the best shit,” he said with a wink. I probably just laughed, I don’t know, maybe downed the rest of my beer. I’ll be bound to have another once I get on the plane, off to Finland this time. Apparently it’s festival season in Scandinavia and its surrounding territories. Guess I’ll be writing about that all then though, from a different airport terminal that looks just like this one, with coffee and food and cigarettes and beer that shortens the life as much as the ones that came before. I could go on, but I won’t, for both our sake. There’s no moral to be gleaned from all this just a simple explanation of the reality, and how I’m passing the time in the airport by writing this, because I said I would. I promised. It’s my group now, and I have to go.

#fiction #short story #romanticism #gonzo #melancholy #bittersweet #literature #writing #wattpad

1 note · View note

minsugapie · 6 years ago

Text

Now You See Me: part 38 (2103 words) - just shut up

• • • • • •

You’re a content creator that is wanting to change up your brand a little bit.

Yoongi is a faceless musician. Well, he’s two people at once. He’s Agust D online and while performing, but he’s Min Yoongi in real life.

Who will he be to you?

• • • • • •

PART 37 // PART 38 // PART 39

masterlist

• • • • • •

tags : @dixonsbugaboo @mayumioutloud @xlilybebe @pocketfullofsuga @pwinny00 @rjsmochii @yoonglemickdoongle @live-2-fangirl @cherryicy123 @vernooope @okaysoplshelpme @thebleuprince @minyoongone @original-internetmonster @princesskimnamjoon @waddlingmyg @ur-gunna-h8-ths @zombiewerewolfqueen @spookyricewithsoysauce @tae165 @sunshinedeaa @dreamcatcherjiah @tirednation @labgeek @lyndseygoregasmxo @luwunacy @hellboundblogger @listless-losers @my-chaos-in-stars @pityandchiil @uwukinawa

• • • • • •

sorry it’s late. it’s also kinda short but it’s loaded with gooey stuff so...enjoy x

• • • • • •

Scrolling through instagram while procrastinating getting ready for the show tonight, you couldn’t help but notice how cute Hoseok and Jade were together. You didn’t know why you hadn’t thought of it sooner, but they really complimented each other very well…he deserved to have someone stable, who actually liked him. Although you knew that Jade was still hung up on Yoongi, they’d be good for each other.

Sure, you had noticed that Hoseok was good looking (you weren’t blind), but ever since you’d set eyes on Yoongi, you knew that he was it for you. He was all the you needed, all that you thought about. And when you first met him, well, that was just the blood-red seal on the letter.

A text from Jade interrupted your thoughts. She informed you that they were on their way to the show, so you had better get ready and be there. If you didn’t show, she was going to track you down and make you come.

So your only choice was to go talk to Yoongi.

Walking to your closet, you stared at it for minutes. You simply had nothing to wear. After choosing simple blue jeans, black boots, and your leather jacket (literally the simplest outfit you could have chosen), you sighed and locked the door on your way out. Tae and Hana were already out for the afternoon and would meet you there, so you were going solo.

By the time you slowly made your way there, the show was starting, which was fine because talking to him before the show would not have been good. Also, you wanted him all to yourself with all the time in the world.

You watched from by the bar, texting Jade that you were there, and that you were going to head backstage to talk to him after the show. At least there you’d be hidden from the crowd.

Watching the last 20 minutes of the show reminded you of the other show with all the intensity. You could hear the frustration, anger and hurt in his voice with every bar. You almost started crying when his voice cracked during a particularly painful lyric. The pain only increased when a piano was suddenly rolled onto the stage, and a woman who had been standing beside you walked onto the stage. The crowd went quiet, and you held your breath as the stage commanded the attention. Yoongi was seated at the piano, hood over his head and mask under his chin. A whisper rushed through the crowd when he pulled his hood down and took off his mask. He still wasn’t really visible, but he was no longer hiding. You held your breath, heart race increasing.

The song he started playing had basically been the only one you’d been listening to as of late —“Song Request”. If the tears weren’t falling before, then they were now. You weren’t stupid. You knew that the song was inspired by you, vaguely at least, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t like it. It showed such a vulnerable side of Yoongi that you hadn’t able to get to know throughout your time together so far. And although it was a sad song, you loved every second of it.

You watched Yoongi’s back the entire performance, arms and feet moving in sync to create a beautiful melody. You had never gotten tired of watching him play piano, and you were sure that you would never be tired of it. Loving someone that was so gifted, especially musically, was not something that you planned to take for advantage anymore.

You wanted Yoongi. Hell, you wanted him more than anything you’d ever wanted in your life. If that man asked you to go to school, you probably would have just because he would be with you. But that wasn’t realistic.

In a perfect world, the two of you would be together with your nice private relationship, but you were both plastered on the internet (mostly you). In fact, you were sure that Yoongi had a peaceful relationship with the internet until you came alone. You simply caused him trouble. You basically threw him to the wolves simply by asking him to create a small piece of art for you.

Before you realized, the show was over, and he took a bow before walking off the stage, microphone in one hand and mask in the other. He didn’t necessarily show his face to the crowd, but he hadn’t hidden it either.

You could tell that he didn’t realize that you would be right backstage because as soon as he finally saw you he stopped in his tracks, mouth falling open. He didn’t see you at first, however, because he often walked while looking at the ground, something that he had been doing then.

You didn’t realize this, but it took everything in Yoongi to keep him from walking right into your arms and smothering you in the biggest hug he’d ever given or received. The small part of him that held his will-power was fuelled by the memory of your leaving him for a month and not ignoring him.

He wondered how it was so easily done, because he had realized even before you’d slept together that he would have never been able to stay away from you for that long. It genuinely hurt that you were capable of such a thing. The last time someone hadn’t spoken to him was when Jade initially moved away. She didn’t speak to him for half a year, but even that wasn’t nearly as hard as this had been.

“You came,” he managed, not able to move another muscle. You could tell that he was checking you out by the way his eyes raked over your body. Maybe he was checking to see if you were really there. Honestly, at that point, were you even there? It seemed like this day would have never came.

“How could I miss it?” You tried to joke, cracking a small smirk. When Yoongi’s face held no sign of amusement, your smile faded.

Running a hand through his hair, he sighed and replied, “You didn’t seem to have a problem missing every single one of my calls and messages. You didn’t even open my snaps, Y/N.”

Closing your eyes, you thought about what you needed to say. You didn’t want to hurt him more than you already had; he didn’t deserve it. All he’d been was nice to you.

“I had to. It would have been too hard for me to leave. Plus, do you want to know the biggest fucking joke of it all? The day that I would have answered was the day you stopped calling.”

He groaned, taking a step towards you, but it felt like he was taking a step back. “That doesn’t explain anything to me. I’m still as confused as I was when you left. We had just decided that we wanted to start dating and actually be together, and then you up and leave. What am I supposed to think? Did you just use me for sex, or to get some songs out of me? Because that’s what this feels like. It fucking SUCKS.”

Tears started escaping your eyes out of frustration. Why didn’t he understand that this was for him? You were just figuring out the words to articulate what you were feeling when he continued, “You know what, whatever, I’m done with this. If you can’t give me a proper answer then I’m leaving.” Yoongi started walking quickly towards you but simply brushed by with a nudge on your shoulder.

He exited the stage and started making his way through the crowd. Crying out in frustration at yourself, you ran after him. “Hey!” You called, closing the distance between the two of you. Clearly people were interested in what was happened because people formed a small circle around the two of you. It was easy to tell that there was something going on with all the tension and emotions buzzing between you two. “Just give me a second to get my thoughts in order!”

“Why? You’ve had an entire month alone to get your thoughts together. What you’ve given me so far is nothing.”

“My month away was not only because of you, and you know that. I’ve had so much shit going on in my life that I needed to confront before I could even remotely think about what was going on between us. Up until last week my dad was still under the impression that I was going to follow his orders and go to school and marry Hoseok and be who he wanted me to be!”

“Whatever. You would think that the person you wanted to be in a relationship with would have been a great confidant, but I guess not…” You’d never seen this cold side of Yoongi, especially towards you. “Did you even like me at all?”

“Of course, I like you! I’m in love with you!”

“You sure have a funny way of showing it.” If looks could kill, you would have been dead.

Rubbing your hands down your face, you had to stop yourself from throwing a fit. Not only were you frustrated with the way Yoongi was being, but you were mad at yourself. You understood where he was coming from, yet he was being stubborn.

“Don’t you get it, Yoongi?! All other matter aside, the reason I didn’t confide in you was because I tried to push myself away. I don’t want to be the reason that you have to reveal yourself to the world! I’ve been getting hate for being with you and only you, but in two different appearances because people assumed. People never stop assuming.” You’d used his real name without a second thought, and although neither you nor Yoongi noticed, everyone around you had, including your giant group of friends that had gathered and were watching the heated conversation without a blink or breath.

“Y/N,” he tried to cut you off, but you weren’t done. If he wanted answers, he was going to get them.

“No! Just think about it for a second! People will be all over you in private if you reveal to the world who you truly are! It sucks so bad! I have to live with it every day. At least now you can go out somewhere without a mask because no one knows who you are…” You trailed off, a tear slipping down your cheek again. You were calmer than you had been when you’d become the small rant, but you were more sad than anything. The tears became continuous as you practically felt your heart tear in two.

“Hey, shh, come on,” he hushed, taking the step towards you and rubbing his thumbs across your cheeks to pick up the tears.

You tried to pull away from his grasp, but he wouldn’t let you. It was his time to talk. Whispering, he replied, “Look at me. I don’t have my mask on right now, and I’m fine. Let people assume. I don’t care about any of that anymore. I just want to be with you, Y/N, and if it means giving up my identity, then so be it. I’m so in love with you that it makes me crazy. You drive me up the wall, and yet you’re the one person that can calm me down with a simple look. I don’t want to just be some guy that came and went. I want to be your present and your future. I wanted our lives to be one. I want for you to trust me enough to meet your dad. All I want is you, whatever way it comes. I can still make music without a mask, but I can’t love you if you won’t let me.”

You hadn’t meant for your conversation to be so public, but he was right. He didn’t have his mask on right now, and nobody seemed to be doing anything. Not one picture of him was taken. Not one person was even willing to interrupt the conversation. We had everyone’s eyes and ears.

“Are you sure you want me so badly? I’m all sorts of messed up…” You just wanted to best for him, and you weren’t sure if you were it.

“Just shut up,” he mumbled, crashing his lips against yours.

With a few hoots and hollers, you at least knew that not everyone would be mean given the chance. Maybe being with Yoongi wouldn’t be so bad after all.

299 notes · View notes

cruecifymesixx · 5 years ago

Text

Love and Leather /part forty sixx/

Word Count: 8.1k

A/N: so very sorry it took so long for me to update! My schedule is a little weird right now due to work soooo just hang with me! Enjoy, let me know what you think! (Moodboard credit: @itsclaranotcarla)

Warnings: a n g s t, conservative rich grandparents, a little boozy, a little fluffy, lots of language

Taglist: @brideofdraculana , @xstarryeyes , @aryssav , @miserablecunt , @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol , @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies, @fandomshit6000, @anntheboneless, @venus-calum, @justjodeye, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @are-we-real, @hi-my-name-is-riley, @extremesadnerding, @thatbandchick39, @awkwrdcait, @countrygirlswonderland, @baiabouk @awesomealmostdopestudent, @romanticvengeance , @tashy-bear, @krazykatkay456, @terror-triplet, @shouttatthedevill @beachystars, @rodriguez025, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @s-outhie, @anxious-diabetic, @awkwardblackgirls, @rockersbox, @brooklyn-antiques, @shamelessobsessions, @jerseytaint, @lilytalebi, @criminalyetminimal, @motley-queen, @trapt-in-a-dream, @lunamadhatter99, @broke-n-bitchy, @thanks2pete, @slowandangry, @lovesick-heart0, @keepcalm-and-beyou, @miriampraez, @teenwolflover28, @lilyhw1, @swoopygorl, @motherloovebone, @random-internet-user-4471, @falcon-arrows, @talranocchia2001, @wheresmyvodkabitch, @waywardprincess666, @malibubarbievince, @iluvmesomemarvelndc, @zoenicoles @vamprlestat, @supersoldierballerina, @primal-screamer,@electradestiny, @marshbev, @n0-sh0rtage-0f-faults, @cruebaby, @ggorehorror, @valentines-in-london, @miss2001babe, @nassauartist @emmaelizabeth2014, @cmft-jr-winchester, @bokkie92, @notworthyofyou1120 @xrosegoldwolfx, @cranberribread, @lauravic, @mgkobsessed, @chaoticvybe, @kellysimagines, @minxtruck, @marvelismylifffe, @love-struck-aries, @idumpyourgrass, @lavendersoundbarrier, @i-want-to-shoot-myself, @unknownoblivion

June ‘89

I gripped Vanity’s thigh as she was driving us to her grandparents house a little outside of Dallas. I stared out the window marveling at the open land and ranches along the road. Her mother had called and asked if we could both come to Texas to visit her family. I’m just assuming this is the next stepping stone for us as a couple, I mean we’re doing things a little differently, but that’s okay I think. I was nervous about the situation as the last time I was around her family I was completely fucked up and called Van out in front of everyone at her party. I hope her mother and Greyson don’t have any hard feelings...

“You okay, Sixx?” Vanity asked, laying her hand on top of mine, “Yeah, doll. I’m good.” I responded as she looked over at me, her chocolate colored hair blowing in the wind as her black sunglasses hugged her face.

“Nikki.” She said my name sternly as I sighed, “Are you sure I have to meet them? What am I suppose to say to them? Let alone do.”

I felt her thumb run across the back of my hand before intertwining her fingers together as she kept one hand on the steering wheel, “Yes, you have to meet them. Everything will be alright, stop overthinking.” She told me as I shook my head, easier said then done babe.

“You just, you gotta be nice and respectful. No cussing and you can’t smoke when we’re there. You just gotta tone it down a little bit.” I frowned at her words.

“So I gotta be something I’m not?” I scoffed as she squeezed my hand lightly, “I’m not asking you to talk business and numbers, I’m just asking you to be not so...so, so heavy metal.” She explained as I let out a groan.

“My grandparents are way more overbearing then mom and daddy ever were. They’re your stereotypical conservative Texan Y’know? They don’t understand people like you.”

I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked over at her, “People like me? What the hell is that suppose to mean?” She glanced over at me before turning her attention back to the road.

“I don’t mean it like that babe. I just mean like how you’re outspoken and will tell someone to fuck off when necessary. They don’t understand your lifestyle, or former lifestyle I should say. They don’t understand the rockstar life, they don’t understand our life.”

“Baby, can’t I just act like I’m sick and I can just stay in the car, please? They’re gonna eat me alive.” I begged her. I already knew I didn’t and wouldn’t ever fit into the life she was raised in. People like her family look down on junkie runaway rockstars like me.

“Nikki, we’re almost there. C’mon you can’t flake on me now. You said you would at least try for me.” She stated as I sighed, “Yeah, I know what I said.”

”I’ll give you some pointers though, make sure you call pops sir at all time whenever you refer to him, same with grandma but make sure you say ma’am. So yes ma’am or yes sir and no sir and no ma’am. I’m not just going to throw you to the wolves, Nikki. Okay?” She reassured me as her hand came over and touched the side of my face.

“I’m nervous too babe. I know how awful and difficult they can be.” She confided as I nodded, taking her hand off my face and bringing it to my lips.

Vanity turned off the side of the road, seeing a giant cast ironed archway that read ‘Blackwood’ I scoffed at the arrogance. At least I know where she gets it from.

The property was fucking huge. Between the gravel road it was divided by the greenest grass I’ve ever seen in my whole god damn life and white picket fencing along the edge.

The house itself was fucking huge, “The property lays on twenty two acres of land. My great grandpa built the wrap around porch while my grandfather, his name is Theo he built the pool in the backyard.” She explained as she parked the car next to some sky blue Chevy pick up truck with chrome detailing, a white corvette and I believe an old Camaro that was black with a white racing stripe.

“My grandparents are my dad’s parents, try not to bring up my dad as grandma still cries over him.” She said as I nodded as we finally got out of the car.

“Nikki?” She said, holding onto my hand as she stood in front of me, “We’ll meet everyone, have dinner, make small talk and then we will leave, alright? I don’t want to be here longer than I have to anyways.” She smiled as she reached up and gave me a sweet but short kiss on the lips. When she pulled away from my lips, her fingers came up to my shirt and buttoned a few more buttons of the shirt she wanted me to wear as it was half opened.

“It’s gonna be horrible, isn’t?” I asked as she kept her hand on my chest, she tried giving me her best smile before taking my hand and dragging me up the stairs to the front door.

She opened the door, and I immediately stopped walking. The house was elegant, oil based paintings hanged in the entry way. The rug that ran under my feet was Persian. The marble tile under the rug had specks of gold flakes. As we walked through the house I could spot a maid and a chef in the kitchen. Pictures of the family I’m assuming ran across the walls as well. We walked past a living room, their was a shiny black piano that more than likely was never allowed to be touched.

I looked up, seeing crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings as well as the walkway from the second floor. The farther we got into the house the more laughter I could here.

We stepped outside, as everyone turned to look at us. I gripped her hand tighter as she brushed her thumb over the back of my hand.

“Oh, Vanity! How I’ve missed you!” Her mom, Clarissa walked up to us first before pulling her in a tight hug.

“Don’t you think that outfit is a bit revealing to be wearing here?.” She said as she picked at Vanity’s hair, fixing it. I don’t know why she tried fixing it as Vanity it put back over her shoulder as it was laying there before her mother touched it.

“Mom, stop. I didn’t feel like wearing a dress.” Vanity shrugged, looking down at the skin tight black ripped jeans, the rips going all the way up to her thighs as she was wearing a floral loose tank top that stopped midriff, exposing the dangly diamond piercing she was wearing.

I think she looked beautiful.

“It’s nice to see you, Nikki.” Clarissa said, walking over to me before giving me a quick hug. I nodded, trying to force a smile, “Like wise.”

Vanity stood at my side, hand wrapping around my bicep as she rested her head against my shoulder. Her mom looked at us with a smile before turning her attention to a white haired woman that had tight pin up curls that was storming over to us. She seemed like she’s always been a housewife. She was also wearing a dark blue dress with a matching set of pearl earrings and a necklace. I’m assuming with the dirty look she was giving me, this was her grandmother.

“Hello, darling. I’m glad you decided to come visit.” She spoke to Vanity, I noticed Van stood up a little bit taller instead of slouching.

“Yes ma’am, I’m happy to be home.” Vanity spoke kindly, leaving my side as she kissed her grandmas cheek.

Her grandma looked me over, her eyes going to the combat boots I was wearing with my leather pants and the skull ring that was on my middle finger. Her eyes brushed over the chains and leather cuff around my wrist as they went wide at the tattoos on my arms. Her cold blue eyes met mine as her thick Texas accent came out, “And who are you?”

“Grandma, this is-“ “He can speak up for him self Vanity.” She was quick to stop Van from talking. I didn’t fucking like that.

She was glaring straight into my fucking soul, I had to look away from her. I wasn’t gonna fucking die in a closet full of drugs, I was going to die standing right here in this backyard.

I cleared my throat, sticking out my hand for her to shake, “I’m uh..Nikki, Nikki Sixx.” She stared at my hand as If it was covered in the Black Plague.

“Is that your real name? Your parents really named you that?” Her grandmother spewed her hates at me, as I clenched down on my jaw.

Apprehensively, Vanity spoke up “Nikki, this is Betty Mae Blackwood, my grandmother.” Van smiled up at me, before looking back at Betty, “Grandma, Nikki is a musician. He’s a legend in his world.” Her grandmother did not seem amused.

“He’s also my boyfriend and I love him dearly.” She added on as I reached down and kissed the top of her head.

“A rockstar, Vanity? Really? Whatever happened to Julian?” Betty had spoken up as she scoffed before sipping on her glass of white wine. I saw the Vanity’s smile fade away, before her eyes quickly darted over to her Moms.

“Betty, let’s be nice okay?” Clarissa was quick to jump to our aid, “Vanity has known Nikki for a long time now-“ “You allow this?” Betty was also quick to cut off her mother.

“Grandma, please. He’s a guest.” Vanity spoke, her tone was low as she looked at Betty.

“Very well then. Vanity, show your...Nikki around the property while I talk to your mother.” Betty ordered as she grabbed my hand and quickly pulled me away.

“I’m just saying right now, if she continues I’m gonna blow up and I’m not apologizing for it.” I warned Vanity as I let go of her hand once we were away from them.

She nodded but didn’t say anything. I knew she felt like complete shit for how her grandmother was speaking to me. I told her this wouldn’t go well.

We walked around the corner to find Greyson lounging in the pool, “Well look who fucking rose from the dead. Glad you’re alive Nikki.” Greyson teased as Vanity let out a laugh before covering her mouth with her hand.

“Yeah, Yeah shut the fuck up Greyson.” I rolled my eyes, “Glad to be alive, man.” I said rubbing the back of my neck as Vanity nudged my side.

“Where’s our little demon spawn of a sister?” Vanity asked, “Out with Pops rounding up the cattle.” Greyson responded, as he continued basking in the sun.

Vanity smirked as she looked at me, “You want to have a little country fun, city boy?” She teased as I rolled my eyes.

“You getting dirty outside of the bedroom? Can’t believe it princess.” I teased her back as she lightly swatted my stomach. She gave me a quick kiss before pulling me along behind her. We went through some side door before she turned on a light.

“Whoa, that’s a sick bike.” I said walking over to the motorcycle that was all white with chrome handle bars, “That was daddy’s...” she trailed off, “Theo got it for him when daddy joined the company. Mom didn’t want it in the garage at the house after he died so it came here.” She quickly diverted the conversation as she grabbed a set of keys from the wall and pressing a button for the garage door to open.

She walked over to an ATV, starting it as she got on top of it, “Come on, Sixx. I am not walking all the way out there, it’s too far and I’ll make you carry me half way through.” She smiled as she wiped her sunglasses clean before putting them on.

I climbed onto the ATV and sat behind her, gripping her hips as she gave way too much throttle all at once. Dirt and rocks were being kicked up as we drove down a trail that went along the property. I saw there was a pond behind the house with some cattle around it. I saw two people on horses trying to gather them up to go back into their own field, or whatever the fuck it’s called.

I didn’t know Vanity was this type of country. We pulled up along side an old barn, well a stable I guess I should say. She turned off the quad and I followed after her.

“Hey Rick!” Vanity spoke to some cowboy looking motherfucker with a bad farmers tan, “Well hello there sugar! Look at you! You haven’t been here in forever.” He said wrapping her up in a huge hug.

“Babe, this is Rick he’s an old family friend and helps Pops with the horses and livestock, Rick, this is Nikki.” Vanity introduced us as he stuck out his hand for me to shake, “Nice to meet you, man.” I said as he smiled back at me.

Vanity tugged on my hand, pulling me inside the stable, “Did I ever tell you I can ride a horse?” She spoke to me, holding my hand still as she walked backwards smiling at me.

“No, you’ve never mentioned it. I didn’t know you were a real country girl. It’s rather hot.” I smirked as she chuckled, “Kinda surprising too, didn’t expect you to be into it.” I shrugged as she went into a stable where a light brown horse with a black mane stood behind a white gate.

“Well this is Rosey.” She opened a gate, “Shes my horse.” Vanity spoke, scratching the horses nose, smiling at me as she grabbed my hand and put it on the horses head, Rosey nudged my hand, causing my whole arm to move, “Just stay here.” Vanity said, quickly leaving the stable.

I picked up hay and fed it to the horse, wiping the dirt off my hands on my pants as I heard Vanity rummaging through stuff. Rosey nudged my chest with her snout, “Stop it.” I said, wiping off horse slobber and god knows what else from my shirt. She did it again to me. I glared at Rosey, trying to leave the stable as Vanity came around the corner with...with a fucking saddle?

“You want to be a cowboy so bad, let’s give you a little crash course.” Vanity smirked, chuckling as she through a thin pad over the horses back.

“I...I don’t want to be a cowboy...I just like the hats and the boots.” I said, stepping out of her way and watching her lift up the saddle before putting it over the pad.

She smiled up at me, crouching down as she tightened the straps under the horse, “Baby, c’mon. If this is just a point to prove that I’m not a cowboy, fine you win, I won’t wear the hats or the boots anymore.” I pleaded, as she stood up straight, dusting off her hands.

“I actually love the cowboy hat, it’s probably my favorite look of yours. But can you open that gate for me?” She asked, motioning to the lock on the side.

She held onto the reigns as we walked next to the horse, “So, just stay relaxed okay? They can feel when you are stressed or panic. If you don’t like it, we can stop. But I think you will.” She explained as I nodded. Vanity led us to a fenced off patch of dirt that had hoof prints into the ground.

“Okay, Sixx. Get on the horse.” I stared at her, looking at the saddle and then at her again, “Van, I thought you were joking? I’m not getting on the horse.” I scoffed at her wishes. Me climbing on a horse in these leather pants? That’s a no from me.

“Baby, c’mon. Please? Look...it’s simple.” She said, quickly putting her foot in the stir up before grabbing the saddle and pulling herself up to mount it.

“Van, fuck. Be careful.” I watched as she trotted around on the horse in circles around me, “Oh relax, I’m fine. You know how many times I’ve been knocked on my back by horses? Like a billion times.” She retorted, making the horse stop right in front of me as Vanity had a huge grin on her face. I’m happy she is happy.

“So is this how you know how to ride my dick so well?” I questioned, smirking at her as she rolled her eyes at me, quickly laughing right after.

“That’s just my gift to you. Do you really not want to try?” She asked, combing the horses mane in between its ears.

I sighed, “Yeah, I’ll try.” She squealed as she quickly jumped down from the horse.

“Okay. So just hold right here, and put your foot in there and then give yourself a push and then throw your leg over.” She explained fast as I could tell she was trying to contain her excitement.

“You make it sound so damn easy.” I retorted, sighing as I pulled myself up and sat on the saddle. The horse quickly jolted forward before I had a grip, causing me to fall off and onto my side straight in to the dirt.

“Fuck this shit!!! I’m not fucking doing it!!” I yelled out, clutching my ribs as I tried standing up, Vanity quickly helped me to my feet.

She laughed, “That wasnt fucking funny, Vanity!” I yelled again, trying to keep a serious face but I couldn’t as she was just cracking up, and it was music to my ears.

“Nik, it was just a little funny. Let’s try again, okay? Just make sure to keep a firm grip.” She said, holding onto the reigns as she patted the saddle.

“C’mon rockstar.” She teased, “How about you get on and then I’ll get on after you?” I suggested, but she shook her head.

“Nope. C’mon Sixx, before I start sweating my makeup off. You don’t even want to know how much this foundation was, alright? Let’s go.” She ordered, as I eventually made my way back onto the horse.

“See, this isn’t so bad now is it?” She asked as she held onto the reigns, trailing the horse and me around the pin.

“It’s hurting my crotch.” I complained, trying to situate the jewels as she laughed, turning her head to look at me before letting go of the reigns and giving them to me.

“Just pull on them a little, Rosey will get the signal to move, just don’t jerk them.” Vanity explained as I nodded, doing what she said as we started trotting around the pin.

Vanity watched as she sat up on the metal gate, a huge smile plastered on her face, “I love you, Sixx.”

I guided the horse to walk along side the gate next to her, “Well, I love you more little lady.” I said in my best country accent as she giggled, turning our attention the side when Sage, who was riding a quad drove up next to us.

“Pops wants to talk to you, Van. I heard grandma wasn’t so nice to you Nikki.” Sage responded as she looked up at us.

“Yeah, which doesn’t mean you get to act like her.” Vanity playfully warned her as she got off then gate, and held out her hand for me to jump off the horse. I watched as she walked back into the stable with the horse.

“I mean, I’m just saying-“ I turned my attention to Sage, “Did rehab really work for you?” She questioned as I nodded.

“I think so, I’ve done good so far. Sometimes it’s hard.” I explained as she pursed her lips together, as it seemed like she was thinking.

“I mean, once a junkie, always a junkie right? I haven’t forgot how you acted at her party. You really hurt her, you know that? She cried over you.” I turned my attention to when I seen Van walking her way over to us.

“Listen Sage, she forgave me and hers is the only forgiveness I care for when it comes to the family. I’m dating her, not all of you.” I said as we glared at one another.

“Fine, just don’t ever make her cry again, unless they are happy tears, got it?” Her threat wasn’t doing much for me, but I nodded anyways. She quickly left before Vanity came up to me.

“Let’s get back...” Vanity said, tugging on my hand as she wrapped it around her waist, before standing on her tiptoes and giving me a kiss.

“We’ll get through this okay?” She assured as her eyes burrowed holes into mine, “I know, darling.” I replied, kissing her forehead before we got on the ATV.

Once a junkie, always a junkie. Those words kept ringing in my ears, yeah Sage was just being a little brat as Vanity as told me about. But I knew there was some truth to it. When Vanity drove the ATV back into the garage, I got off first and then helped her off.

“I shouldn’t be here.” I spoke quietly to Van as she looked up at me, “They are never gonna like me. I shouldn’t have came with you.” I added on as she sighed, gliding her hands up my chest before they wrapped around the back of my neck.

“Nik, my grandmothers opinion does not matter to me. I love you and that’s all that matters, okay? We just have to get through dinner and then we can leave, alright?” She repeated her words as I nodded.

“Let’s go sneak a cigarette out by the car? It will probably do us both good.” She said, grabbing my hand and pulling me along, until I want to say at least a six foot seven old man dressed in a black cowboy hat, black jeans, black cowboy boots and dark red button up shirt stopped Vanity dead in her tracks, she quickly let go of my hand.

“Pops...I thought you and Sage were still-“

“Young lady, please give me one good reason why you are being rude and haven’t introduced me to my guest.” His Texas accent was thick as his green eyes stared directly at me.

She nodded, “Sorry, sir.” She mumbled, before stepping over to me.

“Nik-“ I quickly cut Vanity off. I stuck my hand out for his, “I’m Nikki Sixx, I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to meet earlier. We saw that you were out there with Sage doing stuff with the cattle and didn’t want to interrupt.” I spoke fast as he took off his cowboy hat, placing it on the table as he shook my hand, hard.

“Vanity?” Her grandfather spoke as he let go of my hand, I looked down at it seeing my skin was white from how hard he gripped it.

“Yes, sir?” She questioned, perking up as he patted the top of her head, “You mind getting two whiskeys and my box of cigars for me? They are in the office.” He ordered, as she looked over at me.

“Can’t grandma do it?” Vanity asked, pushing her hair out of her face, “I’m asking you to do it, now. Loose that tone with me, Vanity.” He replied, I eyed Vanity, trying to keep my laugh under wraps as she sent me a quick glare.

Vanity quickly walked inside, “I swear, every time I see her she changes a little bit more and her attitude gets a little bit worse.” Theo replied, turning his attention back to me.

I chuckled, “Yeah, she’s a bit of a handful sometimes, but I wouldn’t want her any other way.” I said nervously as he glared at me, but it quickly softened.

“She was a handful as a kid too. She’d spend summers here because her parents didn’t know what to do with her, but she’s turned out fine. You are a rockstar?” He questioned as he sat down by the glass table.

I sat down across from him, “Yeah, I play bass and I created my band, uh Motley Crue.” I told him as he nodded. I felt a sigh of relief when Vanity came back out.

She handed Theo the glasses plus the box, he was quick to slide a half filled glass over to me as I stared down into it.

“Uh...pops...Nikki, he doesn’t...” Vanity spoke up for me as she took the glass away, “I guess all rockstars are the same.” His laugh was deep as I felt myself become small.

“Water is fine.” I said, holding up my water bottle before taking a sip. I watched as Vanity turned from her grandfather, downing the liquid as she grimaced when it burned all the way down.

“How about a cigar?” He asked, holding one up for me, “Uh yeah...I mean yes sir.”

“Vanity, leave the men to talk by themselves, you know better.” Theo ordered for her dismissal, “I’m sure your grandmother would love to spend some time with you.” He continued as Vanity let out a groan.

“Please be nice to him.” Vanity begged quietly as she stared at him, “Of course sweetheart.” He said, smiling at her before turning is attention to me. She gave me an apologetic look before going over to Betty and Clarissa who were sitting around the pool drinking wine.

“I apologize for my wife, I know she can be overbearing, I’m more passive than she is.” He explained, putting a cigar between his teeth and lighting it with a shiny gold lighter before handing it to me.

“Betty is kind. I can’t blame her for her words. I don’t deserve Van at all, but I love her...” I trailed off, inhaling a puff from the cigar.

He swirled the ice cubes around the glass before taking a sip, “Why do you think you don’t deserve her?”

I was getting sick and tired of all this interrogation, I sighed, “I should have treated her better, and if I hadn’t been drunk or high all the time I could have expressed my feelings instead of all the countless arguments and fights we had, but I think she knows that.”

He nodded, blowing the smoke in my direction, “Yeah…we were informed of a lot of things you did. Some business partners were at that birthday party of hers.”

I cleared my throat before taking a sip of water, “I am very sorry for that. It uh…it wasn’t me. I mean it was me, but it’s the me jacked up on all the drugs I was doing.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to understand before nodding, “Well-“ he rubbed the back of his neck, “At least you’re being honest. You gonna marry her?”

I dry swallowed as he stared at me. Of course I wanted to marry Vanity, but it’s too early for that. I want to spend the rest of my life with her.

“And marry into all this money? I’m sure you won’t be a rockstar forever.” He chuckled, taking a sip out of the glass before setting it down.

I cleared my throat, “Ye-Yeah I want to marry her, but I Uh I don’t need your money.” I smirked watching him nod his head, “I have plenty of other hobbies that make money too. It’s not all about what’s in the bank account…”

“Well, I’m just saying, money makes her happy and-“ “Other things make her happy too that don’t involve money.” I was quick to interrupt him as he seemed amused.

“I’m just saying Nikki, I would hate to see her cry over you running out of money, I’m sure the music thing will end and you’ll fade away like all you musicians do.”

I gripped the arm of the chair tight, I wanted to fucking leave. They don’t know Vanity like they think they do. Yeah, Vanity likes money a lot. But I could name a million other things she likes better. She likes when I wake her up in the morning holding her in a tight embrace as I call her beautiful. She prefers the sunrise over the sunset. She’d rather learn about space than the ocean more. She likes her coffee with two sugars and just a dash of cream, unless it’s iced coffee. Then she loves it with Carmel and a shot of espresso. They would know that she lives for more things than money. She may like extravagant items and expensive clothes, but she loves the little things in life more.

“I’m sure, after everything her and I have been through. She’s gonna love me even if I do run out of money.” I spoke to him, glancing over as Vanity came to my rescue.

“Dinners ready…” She said, holding out her hand as I quickly got up and took it. She tried opening her mouth to say something, but I shook my head, “I am ready to go.” I told her quietly, noticing Theo was behind us.

She sighed, walking to the dining table as everyone was already sitting. Betty sat at one end of the table as it went Vanity, Me, Greyson, Theo sitting at the other end of the table followed by Sage and Clarissa.

“I love you.” Vanity whispered into my ear as she kissed the side of my cheek. I nodded, gently squeezing her thigh as I kept my hand there. A servant came around, pouring wine in all the glasses, including mine. Van quickly grabbed my glass and started to chug it as I stared at her with a smile.

“Vanity, manners.” Her mom spoke quietly, trying not to laugh as well. She put the empty glass down and stared at her mom apologetically.

“Sorry…nerves.” She mumbled, looking over at me, “Grandma harassed me too when you were talking to Pops.” She said into my ear, before politely thanking the servant when they put a plate of food in front of us.

So far so good, everyone was enjoying the meal and chatting with one another, “Y’know Nikki, I may have had a misconception about you.” Betty spoke, my eyes meeting hers as she had a sly smirk on her lips and was holding a glass of white wine as she swirled it around.

“Thank you. I’m actually a very nice person under all this leather and tattoos.” I have her a warm smile as she nodded.

“Well, if you do plan on marrying our Vanity, please don’t have her be a widow to young. I was informed by Sage you had died from your overindulgence in narcotics.”

“Sage..” Vanity spoke, her tone was hurtful as she stared at her younger sister. Sage wouldn’t dare to look at her or me. She just picked at her food, “Sorry Vanny…you know how grandma is.” She mumbled.

“It would be such a waste.” Betty added on as she stared directly at me. I let go of Vanitys thigh, but she quickly grabbed my hand.

“Betty, that is enough!” Clarissa shouted, throwing her napkin down.

“Now Clarissa, I love you. I really do. But my son did the same thing with you. You weren’t born into this life, your parents worked in a factory. And now Vanity is following her fathers footsteps and doing the same with a, with a junkie.”

“And if you do decide to marry, Vanity Kay, make sure you have him sign a prenup. I would hate for him to get his filthy hands on my money.” Betty spoke up, as I pushed back my chair.

“Excuse me.” I said, clearing my throat and pushing Vanity’s hand off of mine before leaving the house.

Fuck that stupid cunt.

*Vanity’s POV*

I watched Nikki angrily ball his fists at his side as he walked out of the house, “It would be such a waste, really. Vanity, you can do so much better. You are beautiful young woman, you don’t need to be with someone like that.”

“What is the matter with you!? I am so happy with him! He’s the love of my life and I hope I get to be with him for a very, very long time. He’s sober, Grandma. He’s never touching it again, you don’t know what I went through with him. You don’t know what he went through to get to where he is today.” I spoke to her as she stared back at me appalled that I would stand up to her.

“Vanity, enough. Don’t talk back to your grandmother like that.” Theo butted in as I shook my head.

“That’s what they all say and promise. Yet they always eventually fall back.” Betty responded before taking a calm bite of her food, like she hadn’t done anything wrong.

“He is trying his hardest.” I defend him as she shook her head, “Oh please, he’s only here because you wanted him to be, I could tell just by looking at him he didn’t want to come. He’s not good enough for you.”

I scoffed, “And you wonder why I never come home, I am leaving.” I said, pushing the plate away as I stood up, “Mom, I will call when I leave tomorrow.” I replied, watching her nod slowly as she gave me a look of sorrow, before I turned to leave the house.

*Nikki’s POV*

Vanity walked outside, slamming the front door, “I am not going back inside to say bye.” I said, lighting a cigarette as I exhaled, “Betty god damn Ford in there can piss off, I am not going to die again.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to say bye. We’re leaving.” She snapped at me, quickly getting in the car and slamming the door. I rolled my eyes, sliding into the passenger side.

“I even told you I shouldn’t have came. It’s already bad enough your grandmother thinks I’m the fucking devil, and just to make things worse your grandfather thinks you’ll be happy with me only until the money runs out.” I shook my head, glancing over at her as she was focused on the road.

I saw her roll her eyes, “We both know that isn’t true, fuck! Just shut up about it Nikki. It already happened so let’s just move on.” She shouted, turning the radio up as she mumbled under her breath. I pushed the button to turn it off.

“Yeah, just shut up Nikki.” I mocked as she glared at me, “Sorry I can’t give you a fancy ranch with a white picket fence and god damn ponies!”

She laughed bitterly, “Oh fuck off, that’s not what I want anyways. God. Don’t be like this please. I said I was sorry for how they were acting!”

I clenched my jaw as I stared at her, fuck off? Are we really about to fucking do this right now!?

“Don’t be like what?! They don’t see the struggle I went through to get this far! I was some poor runaway-“

“Some poor runaway punk who didn’t have any place to go and had to steal to survive, save yourself the sob story Nikki, I already know!!” She yelled as she gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white.

“So maybe you should have fucking stood up for me!! You knew I was being thrown to the wolves and you just watched! I wasn’t born with a fucking silver spoon in my mouth like princess Vanity! I had to scratch and claw to get what I have! I got lucky to become a rockstar! You know nothing about struggle or hard work! You have everything because of some oil shit!!” I yelled at her, seeing her face get red in anger. She was quick to pull off the side of the road, slamming the car into park as she turned her body towards me.

“Some oil shit?! Really!? Fuck you, Nikki! You don’t have a single god damn clue about what my family has been through! How hard my relatives had to work to get where they are today! Hard work? You know nothing about hard work! God fordbid busting out a few songs is difficult for you. Congratulations Nikki, you made your millions rhyming a few words together!” She rolled her eyes, her usual light hazel eyes were dark in the golden rays of the setting sun.

“Well those songs have allowed you to do some things you wouldn’t have done on your family farm!” I talked back, watching her reach across and shove my shoulder, “Vanity! Don’t fucking start with me!”

“Yeah, thank you Nikki Sixx and the rest of Motley Crue. Thanks for allowing me to shovel cocaine up my nose and thanks for damaging my god damn liver! Oh, and thanks for letting me travel with you to all of the stupid places I’ve already been too!! Thanks for making me have to watch my god damn boyfriend almost fucking die!! Oh wait! He did!!” She stared at me as my face turned into a scowl.

“Oh fuck you, Van! I’ve done more for you than that! I bought you a fucking house!” I snapped before turning my head to look out the window, “Just fucking drive.” I said, shaking my head.

“I didn’t ask you to buy me the stupid house, Nikki! You threw that on me!!” She continued to yell as I rolled my eyes.

“Then maybe you should go back to your damn mansions and ponies!!!” I shouted louder at her, immediately regretting it when I saw her facial expression soften. I mentally cursed myself out as I turned to look out the window again.

Fuck, I didn’t fucking mean that. Damnit. She started driving us back into the city and to her hotel. Out of the corner of my eye I could see her wiping her eyes. I said that in anger, I truly didn’t mean it. But now she’s crying, and now I have to give her space. We haven’t had a single argument since that day in rehab, and here we are yet again. It’s like we take two steps forward and we end up taking three steps back. I hope that we would never have an argument like we use to have them but yet, here are with the fuck you’s and the fuck off’s and the hurtful things we know to say to get under each other’s skin.

She parked the car, grabbing her purse and getting out, before slamming the door again. I sighed, following behind her, “Baby, c’mon..” I said, trying to reach for her arm but she pulled away from me.

“Leave me alone.” She muttered as we walked inside the hotel and to the elevators, waiting until they opened up for us.

“Van, I’m sorry.” I spoke softly as I turned to face her when the doors closed, “No! You aren’t fucking trapping me in this elevator to talk about it!” She yelled, sending daggers through me I backed away from her, leaning against the wall as she stood in the middle of the elevator. The door dinged as it slid open, she was quick to walk out.

She unlocked the hotel door, and went straight for her luggage, throwing the scattered clothes around the room into her suitcase. I furrowed my eyebrows, “Wh-what are you doing? Vanity, don’t leave, I am sorry.” I pleaded, but she ignored me.

“Doll, c’mon. You can’t-“ she threw the clothes at me, “I can’t what, Nikki! I can’t leave?! I am going to get another hotel room!! I don’t want to be in the same vicinity as you right now!!” She yelled, continuing to throw wadded up shirts and jeans at me.

“Knock it off!! You’re being dramatic!-“ I was cut off when I dodged a shoe being pelted at my head, “Vanity, what the fuck! Calm down!!”

“Oh, I’m sorry!! Let me go fucking die for a few minutes and come back to life so I have the whole world talking about me, yeah that seems dramatic enough!!”

I glared at her, “Low, that’s really fucking low of you…” I swiped the keys off the little coffee table, holding them in my hand, “You have no idea Vanity, none.”

She looked away from me, jaw clenching as she shook her head, “Glad to know you find me dying, amusing for a come back.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, but you can talk about me all day long.” She said, before stepping closer and snatching the keys away from me, I groaned, rubbing my face as she stared at me.

“Give me the keys, I’m just going to cool off.” I said softly, holding my hand out for the keys, “Fine, go ahead and leave.” Vanity replied, anger in her voice as she threw them down at my boots.

“I’m clearly not the only one. We both need to calm down, I’ll be back in an hour.” I tried explaining to her but she stormed off into the bathroom, slamming the door in the process.

*Vanity’s POV*

I sat in the giant bath tub, full of hot water and bubbles as I drank from a champagne bottle room service delivered. I know I didn’t do a good job at defending him or how a girlfriend is suppose to defend her boyfriend, but fuck man. How am I suppose to when my grandparents think I’m sleeping with the devil? I know Nikki isn’t a bad guy and I wish they saw it that way too.

I closed my eyes, rubbing my temples as I listened to the radio as Skid Row’s ‘I Remember You’ was playing.

“Woke up to the sound of pouring rain, The wind would whisper and I’d think of you.” I sang along quietly, taking another sip of champagne before stepping out of the tub, wrapping a plush white towel around me.

I looked at the clock on the wall, seeing it was almost seven o’clock in the afternoon. I opened up the door, walking out into the hotel room and seeing that Nikki hasn’t came back yet.

I got dressed in a pair of shorts and a Motley shirt with the sleeves torn off. I found myself lounging around on the couch, flipping through the channels of the TV but nothing looked good. I groaned and turned it off. Can he just get back already?

I should apologize first, be the bigger person I suppose. I said some things and he said some things, but I was meaner and I shouldn’t have been. I also shouldn’t have thrown stuff at him, but he was pissing me off. Still, that’s not a good excuse. Him and I aren’t suppose to be fighting like this, like how we used to fight. We don’t do that anymore.

I heard the hotel door unlock, seeing him walk in with a white paper bag and two drinks as he was sipping on one.

He dropped the food down in front of me on the coffee table, followed by handing me a drink, “Oreo milkshake…and a burger and some fries…” Nikki explained, trying to put on a smile but I could tell he was still upset.

“I’m not really hungry..” I said quietly, watching him sit down across from me in the chair and kicking his boots up on the table, “You barely ate at your grandparents.” He pointed out, taking a bite from his burger.

I shrugged, “We had to leave, Nik.” He glared at me, wiping his face and putting his food down, “That’s not my fault.”

I frowned, “I didn’t say it was Nikki-“ He shook his head, digging into his front pocket and pulling out a cigarette before lighting it, “I didn’t know, I mean I did know she would be like that but I didn’t think she’d be that horrible Nikki, I am so sorry.”

Nikki flicked the ash from his cigarette into the tray as he took a long drag, “She almost sounded like she wished I was dead, Van. Don’t you get that? She thinks I’m nothing but the scum beneath her feet, and guess what? I’m fucking not.”

“I don’t know, they’re just from a different time period, I’m not suppose to be with someone like you. They, they just don’t understand.” I mumbled quietly, hearing him chuckle.

“Someone like me? Someone that makes loud music? Someone whose a drug addict? Someone who has showed their naive little granddaughter stuff they sheltered her from? Guess I’m the fucking devil in their eyes right, Princess?” His words were laced with malicious venom.

“Baby, I’m sorry.” I spoke quietly, looking over at him as he let out a sigh, “I know you are, but you’re not who I want the apology from.” He replied as I shook my head, “You’ll never get it.” I told him as he rolled his eyes.

“Well, I don’t need some stuck-in-her-ways old woman talking out of her ass like she knows me, because she doesn’t know anything about me!!”

I nodded, “She…she just knows stuff from what my mom has told her…” he narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to the side as he glared at me.

“And what the hell has your mom been saying?” He ordered, crossing his arms over his chest as he put out the cigarette.

I looked away from him, picking at my nails, “Just whatever I’ve told her from before and now…” I mumbled quietly, hearing him sigh angrily as I felt tears pooling in my eyes.

“Wonderful, just fucking perfect Vanity. She has a preconceived notion of me just because you like to run home to mommy and cry about what the big bad Nikki has done.” He let out a chuckle, shaking his head as he glared at me.

“She knows you're sober now, I told her that’s all that matters to me, Sixx!” I shouted, voice breaking all at once as I felt myself on the brim of crying

“Well, clearly not to the royal oil queen.” He responded as I chewed on my bottom lip, frowning at him, “Stop making fun of my family business, Nikki.” I asked quietly as he laughed, “Oh! But it’s totally okay to make fun of the junkie, right, right.”

“I never said it was okay!!” I shouted, wiping tears from my cheek as he rolled his eyes, “Yeah, go ahead and cry about it! Just another thing you can run to mommy about, then grandma and grandpa will load more money into-“ I quickly grabbed the milkshake and threw it at the wall behind him, making it splatter everywhere.

“Stop it!! I don’t want to fight like this!!” I yelled, completely being flooded by tears, “I am trying to apologize to you!! And you just keep being an asshole to me! But you’re right, maybe I should go back to my mansions and my ponies and all the stuff you hate about my family!” I continued to yell as he watched me. He slowly got up and sat on the couch next to me, he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me into his chest.

“I didn’t mean that. I was just angry.” He mumbled into my hair, placing a kiss on top of my head, “I know I am being an asshole, but I’m just hurt, and I shouldn’t be taking it out on you. I just want your family to like me because I know it’s important to you.” He spoke softly as he held my hand in his.

“We don’t fight like this anymore Nikki, it’s suppose to be better between us.” I said, looking up at him as he wiped the tears from my cheek with his thumb, “And it has been, I guess we will just have our huge blown up fights sometimes. It’s just up to us to stop it before it gets to that level.” He said, kissing my forehead, “I don’t ever want you to go back to your mansions and ponies or the rich oil King and Queen.” He laughed as he held me tighter against him.

He kissed my lips softly, “My own damsel in distress.” He muttered, moving pieces of hair out of my face, “My own knight in shining armor, chains and leather, with his trusty black motorcycle.” He smiled, shaking his head in amusement as he kissed me again.

“I’ll save you a thousand times over, doll.”

153 notes · View notes

thetaboochristian · 5 years ago

Text

Some Mother’s Day Musings

Ok, so this post is going to hit a few different angles, as it relates to motherhood. I’ll mention a little bit about my mom, but I’m also going to throw a couple other philosophical ideas in here too the most people might not think about when it comes to Mother’s Day.

I’m totally not going to mention anything about “Rebecca” in this post, nothing really positive or negative, even though yes technically I mean she is the mother of my son... she has a new husband to celebrate her in that regard and that’s fine. I still love my son “Aaron” and... “Rebecca” has still taught him some good things despite all of the conflict you’ve already heard about in my previous content, and I believe that my son will still learn some great things from her in the future.

Ok so moving on from that, I want to first say thanks to my mom for all of the crazy things she put up with as I was growing up and even during much of my 20′s, since I still had to be around her a lot for work even when I wasn’t living with her anymore.

Even though my mom and I have certainly had our rough patches, my relationship with her is WAY better than my relationship with my dad. With my Autistic brother requiring most of her attention growing up, and my dad not around or doing stuff with me that often, I spent most of my childhood alone. I mean yeah, my mom fed me and took care of my basic needs, but I spent most of my day playing or researching stuff on my own, or day dreaming... lots of day dreaming and philosophizing, even as a little kid.

You see, my mom feels kind of bad that she couldn’t spend more time with me as a kid, and while I understand it, it shaped me in a way that has helped me a great deal in my life as an adult. All of that time spent alone helped me become the intrepid researcher, scientist and philosopher that I am today. Because of that upbringing, I don’t mind being alone most of the time, and aside from my current desire for a wife (a good one this time around), I don’t have much NEED for friends, though I don’t mind socializing with others as long as they aren’t @$$holes and the socialization isn’t impeding on some big important project that I want to get done for my business or personal development.

So thanks mom, for loving me and supporting me through all of the awkward stages of my teens and early twenties as I figured out what I wanted to do and become in life. {*I’m writing this in her honor, but I sure as heck would never let her read this, or my blog as a whole that is at least, because I DEFINITELY don’t want her seeing some of the other things I’ve written about... they’re just not things that parent’s and their children want to hear or know about each other.*}

Ok so now, I’m going to get into something a little bit more abstract, regarding the mothering instinct and heart.

This is going to get a little spiritual here.

In Christianity, God is referred to as Heavenly Father, and if you believe the Bible is true, then you know that God Himself spoke that to people, told them that He was a He... however, God made human kind in God’s likeness... both the male and the female. So, in reality, while God may assume the form of a man/father, God also contains the feminine nature and mother-heart. God has an equal amount of masculine and feminine qualities inside of Him, in His heart and soul and mind.

Interestingly enough, though I’ve often times considered what I’m about to say next as a curse, I noticed something interesting about myself when I thought about this concept of God’s dual masculinity and femininity. So... I am a man who has a good amount of masculine nature inwardly and outwardly, but I also have... maybe a little bit more of a feminine nature within my heart than most men do. I’m not effeminate, as like a gay man would be, but I think I have an interesting blend of masculine and feminine traits that makes me much more like God and Jesus than I once thought.

You see, Astrologically speaking, I am an Aries/Pisces cusp... I’m a mix of the two signs based upon when I was born. Aries is the MOST Alpha (Type A) of all the signs, and Pisces is the MOST Beta (or Type B) of all the signs. Aries is the most Masculine in terms of personality and behavior, and Pisces is the most Feminine in terms of personality and behavior. I would say that if I had to really break it down, I’m 65% masculine and 35% feminine overall, in regards to my personality, world view and lifestyle.

When it comes to tackling tasks that need to get done, or trying to fix some urgent problem that could wreak havoc on me or my family if it isn’t resolved soon, I’m 100% Aries mode, I’m like a bulldozer with nitrous tanks and a turbo! I’m attacking that problem with everything I’ve got and people better stay the heck out of my way and not hinder me unnecessarily.

When it comes to socialization, I either have nothing to say or I’m almost too chatty. I never know which one is going to come out of me when I’m in a given situation. I guess I’m more feminine when it comes to having conversations with people.

When it comes to romance, I start off VERY Pisces-like (feminine), very slow and gentle and wanting to rub, cuddle, nuzzle and slow kisses, etc. Then, once that has started, I start turning more and more Aries-like again (masculine), increasing in intensity regarding the forcefulness of my touching, kissing, and expressing my burning flame through my voice and words. This is where I need a girlfriend/fiancé/wife who’s OK with being told blatantly X-Rated things that I want to do to her OR for her, once we’ve reached the point in our relationship where we’ve had the talk and know each other’s “Yes and No” list. If she can’t handle and enjoy dirty talk during the right times, she’s not the one for me. I need a woman who will let me fully express my sexual energy to her through words, and who will do the same to me.

Once it gets to sex (which is only within marriage according to the principles I practice), I will naturally repeat the cycle of Pisces-like first, and Aries-like a few minutes in, and I’ll alternate back and forth throughout the time together unless she asks specifically for one or the other primarily. It really though, boils down to “Vanilla” days and “Not-Very-Vanilla” days, regarding my desires and expressions of them within a marriage.

When it comes to managing a house hold, parenting, finances, etc, I’m very masculine. While I care about people’s feelings, they don’t come before the structure, cleanliness and integrity of our house, car, bank account, etc. I will NOT let my kid make huge messes, or I will ONLY let him make messes in designated places. I don’t mind saying NO to something that my kid would find fun if it can’t be done without damaging something in my house/car or wracking up a bunch of debt for something that’s not a necessity.

Finally, when it comes to movies, TV shows and books, I kind of rapidly cycle between Masculine and Feminine. Basically, anything in a story, show or movie that typically makes most women cry, it will make me cry too. I can’t help it. I really can't! Sometimes I’ve even gotten more teary eyed and emotional over something than my mom or one of my exes did. While that might be kind of embarrassing in one way, it shows what a genuinely caring and empathetic person I am. If I see something on TV about a little girl in a hospital bed and they bring in a therapy dog for her to pet and she get’s all excited and emotional about it, I’ll usually get a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes.

Same thing applies to tragic stuff in movies and shows. When there’s a 100 car pile up in the middle of a blizzard and people are trapped and freezing and rescuers have to go around and help people... that makes me tear up. When someones’ loved one is dying in a hospital bed... it makes me cry. I REALLY took it hard when I read 50 Shades of Grey and got to the end of the first book in the series and Christian Grey whipped Anastasia with a belt really hard over and over and she got so upset and cried and ran away and said to the effect of “WTF is wrong with you?! How can you enjoy doing something like this to a woman?!” I know that in the next story, Christian eventually learned his lesson and felt sorry and changed and became a better person, but my goodness... I understand LIGHT bondage/“Soft-Dom” and I’ve kinda grown into my interest in that (both to give and receive it in my next marriage if she’s willing), but I just can’t understand people who get pleasure out of INTENTIONALLY trying to inflict pain on other people. I guess I thought about it from the perspective of what I would or would never do to a woman who I loved. Arguments and hurt feelings are inevitable but physical harm... I could NEVER do.

What’s so interesting about my Masculine/Feminine balance is, if you read the descriptions for Aries signs and Pisces signs, I’m like a 95% accurate match to BOTH of them, even though they are pretty opposing. This strange combination probably played a large part in what made me into a “Sigma Male”.

You’ve heard of “Alpha Males” and “Beta Males”, “Alpha Females” and “Beta Females”, but a SIGMA is one who has a unique balance of both Alpha and Beta characteristics, but this doesn’t make them “average”... it makes them incredibly special and unique. Most people are only either Alpha OR Beta (though there are some other types that are less common, like Omegas who just sit around all day goofing off and have no ambition or drive for anything except video games, internet and junk food.)

But anyway, SIGMA men and women are like lone wolves, they have some big grand mission in life that they want to accomplish, and they care little for the rules of Social Hierarchy. They can be friends with pretty much any clique but are rarely close to anyone except a romantic partner. They find socialization a waste of time many times, and prefer to spend most of their time doing something productive or pleasurable. Sigmas are the Christian Grey’s of the real world, in the sense that they prefer to be rich, mostly isolated people who are ABLE to socialize and be a people person but like to do so only when it fits their schedule. Minus the abuse part, I saw A LOT of similarities between Christian Grey and myself when it comes to how I would structure and manage my life if I had a lot of money. I’d be just like him, just with Christian moral values and no sadomasochism. If you look at all the other personality traits and world views, etc that he has, it’s probably 75-80% similarity to my thoughts and feelings and interests and world views.

While I couldn’t find any lists of famous people who are Sigmas, I did find some links to webpages that explain Sigma’s in more detail. Even if it says it applies to Males, the characteristics pretty well cross over to women too, and I know because I used to date a Sigma girl, and she was the best girlfriend I ever had, even though we eventually broke up.

Here are the links:

https://herway.net/life/11-traits-define-sigma-male/

https://hackspirit.com/sigma-male-11-things-they-do-and-how-you-can-become-one-too/

https://www.zoosk.com/date-mix/dating-advice/sigma-male/

https://www.aconsciousrethink.com/9304/sigma-males/

SO... in closing...

What does all this Sigma stuff have to do with Mother’s Day and mothering nature? Well... I believe that Sigma men (straight ones that is) have a particularly high amount of “mothering instinct” without being effeminate or seeming devoid of masculinity. I believe that Sigma men and women both exhibit the most “God-like” or “Christ-like” nature just how they naturally are. I believe that it’s probably fair to say that GOD is probably a Sigma... if He had to be classified as having one specific personality type. God is the epitome of Masculinity AND Femininity (in all of their good ways), and I think that Sigma men and women are also like that... the best balance of Masculine and Feminine in one being.

Come to think of it, my mom seems an awful lot like a Sigma to me, now that I think about it... and while my dad is a little bit more “Beta”, he also has a good bit of “Alpha” traits too, so when I consider what both my mom and dad are like, maybe that’s where I got my Sigma traits from... but more so from my mom... I’m sure.

My dad for the most part taught me what I did NOT want to do or be like, and my mom for the most part taught me what I DID want to be like. Come to think of it, now looking back I think that my mom’s dad (who recently passed) seemed a lot like a Sigma male too. Maybe that’s where my mom got her’s from. My grandpa on my mom’s side taught her how to be a good hearted person and how to not take advantage of people or be greedy. He taught her how to be financially responsible and care for those in need who can’t help themselves. While some of my mom’s siblings may have not adopted all of those good life lessons and characteristics, thank God that my mom did.

While I may not have much good to say about my Dad or most of the people on his side of the family, I am sure thankful to have had all of the good lessons, teachings, foundation and love that came from my mom’s side of the family, which my mom passed on to me and lavished upon me, even when nobody else had my back.

:) <3

Until next time, take care and God Bless!

“Luke Davidson” - Author of The Taboo Christian book and blog

#mother's day #mother #feminine #masculine #femininity #masculinity #family #love #sigma #beta #alpha #aries #pisces #personality type #God #Jesus Christ

1 note · View note

raphpanda21 · 6 years ago

Text

Thanatos made it home a short time later and kicked his shoes off in the entry way before heading to his room to get changed into something more comfortable. As he went to hang up his suit jacket the pink business card Persephone had given him fell out. Bending down to retrieve it he turned it between his fingers looking it over. How exactly did one go from Kore to Persephone ? Shrugging he laid the card on his dresser and finished putting his clothes away.

He dressed in a pair of loose lounge pants and started to leave his room when the card on he dresser caught his eye causing him to pause.

Maybe he should text her just to make sure she made it safely home. She was rather naive it seemed. Probably would follow a wolf home thinking it was a puppy.

Mind settled he picked up the card and input her number in his phone under the contact name Princess P before typing up a quick text.

Hey Princess did you make it back safe? Just checking to make sure no wolves gobbled you up. - T.

Text sent Thanatos slips it into the pocket of his lounge wear before heading to his kitchen to find himself some grub.

Persephone’s phone vibrates the new message prompt appearing on the front screen.

Persephone had in fact made it back safely and just in time to say goodbye to Artemis who was heading out to work in the mortal realm. Hanging up Thanatos’s coat in the hall closet she decided she had earned herself some retail therapy. Black really did look surprisingly good on her and it gave her a sense of power and toughness .

She laid her phone on the kitchen counter and headed back to her room to change into her pj’s. A few minutes after she left for her room Apollo arrived using the key Artemis had given him to let himself in. He headed to the fridge and grabbed a beer cracking it open and taking a long sip as as he leaned against the counters edge wondering if Persephone had made it back from her internship. Just as he was about to move to investigate her room the sound of a phone vibrating caught his attention. Turning around he saw her phone lying on the counter behind him. Picking it up he frowned seeing the new message prompt. Not one to respect boundaries he tapped the new message prompt surprised to find Persephone had not yet set up security settings and the message window opened right up. Reading through the short message he can feel his jealousy rise.

Apollo: Who the hell is this?

Hitting the reply button he quickly typed a message

Not sure who you think you are calling Princess but the owner of this phone is safe at home. Stay away from my girl.

He just had turned the phone off and laid it down as he heard a door to one of the bedrooms open up and Persephone walked into the kitchen open laptop in her arms. Upon seeing Apollo she paused hanging back.

Persephone: What are you doing here? Artemis has already left for her shift.

Apollo slid up draping an arm round Persephone’s shoulder giving it a squeeze

Apollo: I came to see you of course.

Persephone : Okay, well you have seen me so if you will excuse me I have some things to do.

Persephone slid out from under his arm moving to the oversized chair in the living room and settled into it Indian style with her laptop in her lap returning to her internet shopping. With her back turned she failed to see the look of annoyance that crossed Apollo’s face.

Finishing off his first beer Apollo’s went back to the fridge to grab two more before heading to the living room. Sitting himself on the arm of Persephone’s chair and he held out one of the beers to her.

Apollo: Beer for milady.

Persephone glanced up at the offered beer , unconsciously she scooted over in the seat not liking the encouragement on her personal space.

Persephone: No thank you. Do you have to sit on top of me? The couch is very comfortable.

Apollo shrugs and sat aside the spare beer for himself

Apollo: It could be really comfortable if you and I occupied it together.

Uninvited he runs his fingers under the spaghetti strap of her pajama top causing Persephone to freeze mid scroll.

Reaching up Persephone lifted his hand off of her person and pressed it back against his chest.

Persephone: I think I will take a hard pass. I told you before what happened before can’t happen again.

Apollo rolls his eyes but kept his hands to himself.

Apollo: Whatever Persie, the hard to get act is only cute for so long but I will play along for a bit if that is really your thing.

Persephone chose to ignore him but her annoyance was visible if the freshly sprouted crown of thorn shrubbery weaving through her hair was any indication.

Undeterred Apollo stood and moved behind her chair looking over her shoulder to see what she was looking at.

Apollo: Shopping huh? I could see you in a little black lace dress for sure but I think I like you best in whites and pastels. Makes your curves really have an impact.

Persephone closed her laptop screen taking in a deep calming breathe to prevent herself from snapping and biting Apollo’s head off.

Persephone: What I wear is none of your concern and truthfully unless I ask for your opinion I would prefer not to hear it.

Apollo snorts walking away from her chair and flopping on the couch grabbing the remote to turn on the television.

Apollo: Jeez, is it close to that time of the month or something. You are kinda being a mega bitch.

Persephone glared at Apollo from over her refined screen the size of the thrones in the growth growing nearly double in length but she said nothing choosing to ignore him instead.

Thanatos having finished his dinner and cleaned up the kitchen poured himself a healthy glass of Chenin Blanc as reward. Getting settled comfortably in the living room with a DVRed show cued up he takes out his phone remembering he failed to check and see who had messaged him earlier. Seeing it was Princess he unlocked the phone to see what she had said.

Reading over the message he was left feeling shocked

Thanatos: My girl huh? Well that doesn’t sound like a jealous, possessive caveman at all. Have the rules for sacred virgins changed ? My my princess what mischief have you gotten into.

Deciding to probe further he types up a reply.

Is this Demeter? I thought she said she lived with Artemis. You must be Demeter cause last I checked sacred virgins don’t belong to anyone. If this isn’t Demeter than you must be delusional or perhaps sacred virgins have changed their policies. Has there been a rebellion, cause I am more than happy to sign myself up to assist in some vow breaking.

Satisfied and curious to see if the caveman or Princess would reply he hits send and sits back to wait.

Apollo had gotten up to throw away his beer cans and was in the process of heating up some pizza bagels when he heard Persephone’s phone vibrate again. Glancing over at Persephone she handn’t seemed to have noticed it over the sound of the television. Quickly he snatched it up he pulled up the message only for his temper to sky rocket. Whoever this tool was Apollo was having none of it anymore.

Taking out his own cell he types the number in setting Persephone’s cell back where he found it. Stepping into his sisters room he shut the door for privacy and dialed Thanatos’ number.

Thanatos was just pouring himself another glass of wine when his phone began to ring. Looking at the number it was an Olympus prefix but unknown to him.

Thanatos: To answer or not to answer that is the question. Hmmm, I wonder could it be the caveman come to call. Well guess I shall take the risk and find out.

Sliding accept he places the phone on speaker

Thanatos: Good evening, may I ask who is calling .

#greekgods #loreolympus #inspired #thanatos #persephone #apollo #drabble #part 1

5 notes · View notes

chromium-siren · 6 years ago

Text

Nightingale part 2

@kyber-hearts-and-stardust-souls

PHASMA

I went home, fuming about the fate of Nightingale. I was supposed to be preparing for the Halloween Gala, not panicking over where to drum up five hundred grand in two months! Angrily, I punched a pillow and let out a frustrated scream, annoyed with myself for being a cliché as well as my situation.

“Pudge, how dare this Vader guy come in and decide to take over?!” I said, slipping off my dress and tossing it on a hanger while Pudge kneaded the bedspread. All he offered me was a half-hearted meow before rolling on his side and showing me his stomach. “I worked hard on Nightingale, ever since construction started! It just isn’t fair!” I pout, flopping on the bed like a petulant child. Pudge stares at me and gives me another meow, except this one seems more like a scolding one. He then proceeds to nuzzle me and rub his head on an arm, purring with reassurance as I cry.

“Thank you, mon chou,” I sigh. “You always know how to make a girl feel better. I better get some rest,” I say, heading over to the bathroom and preparing myself for sleep. Once my makeup was off and I did all I needed to do, I set myself in bed, my favorite spy novel on the right side of the bed.

“We’ll always have Paris,” I mutter, before closing my eyes and drifting off into a dreamless sleep, Pudge beside me purring away as he dreamed about tuna.

HUX

“Sorry I’m so late, Millicent,” I say to my cat as I walk in the door. Nonetheless, she rubs her head on my saxophone case and headbutts my shin, glad to see me home. I feel sad for Athena, especially since this was her club after all- I too, was there when Nightingale was opened, one of the first to delight in the Starfire Dawn that made the bar famous. Now along comes some Vader character, and then-

A plan begins to form in my head. It’s time to do some research. I dash to my study and search around for my laptop- which just so happened to be stashed between a bookshelf and the case for my baritone saxophone. (I’ve been meaning to play my bari for a while- next week, perhaps?) After mentally reminding myself to keep the laptop on my desk, I open it and boot up the machine. The internet boots up perfectly, a lively Google Doodle bidding me welcome. Almost with hesitation, as if he himself is watching me, I type into the bar ‘vader.’ Enter.

Page after page of results pops up on screen, with the top ones being from the crime blotters of newspapers. Mugshots of that same man who barged into our club glare at me, followed by some pictures of what I assume is him in a gas mask holding a strange thing that looks like a sword fill up the page. What frightens me the most was the one of him with the sword and it’s accompanying tagline:

“POLICE COMMISSIONER KENOBI SLAIN BY VADER, EMPEROR’S MAFIA.”

That was when it hit me- Vader was part of a gang! I open a desk drawer and whip out a notebook, making sure to jot down details. After all, when you’re a lawyer, you have to know who you’re up against. Now, I search for ‘tarkin,’ and I find something that scares me. Tarkin is another member of the same mafia as Vader, and both of them are pawns of some enigmatic emperor. Digging deeper, I find some more about what the supposed mafia does- besides the usual hits and all that, they launder money, have illegal gambling places and speakeasies, and smuggle goods from out of the country to their clients.

Am I in too deep? Maybe, but then another idea dawns on me. Since Solo is a public defender, I can send the details to him and he can bring it to the police! It’s flawless- I hope. I had what I needed, now it was time for me to go and get some rest. I would need to speak to Phasma tomorrow.

PHASMA

I always enjoy how peaceful Nightingale is without the customers, but then I make myself sad before realizing that I may not be able to do something like this ever again. Either way, my mission is to get the place ready for the first ever Halloween Gala, and our inaugural theme- the Gory 20s. Something about murderous mobsters and ghostly flappers struck me, either as a show of my resentment to Vader or because I practically eat, breathe, sing and live Art Deco. A tasteful neon sign flashes the words “Devil’s Speakeasy” on and off as ghostly moans accompany the flashing. Since that works, I set an animatronic phonograph on the table and flip the switch. The record spins and an out-of-tune piano rendition of The Entertainer begins to play, slowly becoming distorted as demonic growls and a cry for help come out of the machine. Perfect. I set that on the bar, next to a flickering candelabra when my phone begins to buzz. It’s Hux.

“Darling, I need you to come over to the firm during lunch. I have something I need to tell you about. It’s about Vader,” he says.

“I’m on my way,” I respond, heading out the door and getting into my car, speeding off to his office. When I enter the lobby, every man within a five foot radius seems to gasp collectively and watch me as I come into the building. I bet if this were a Tex Avery cartoon, a sultry soundtrack would be playing as their eyes all pop out and howl like wolves. Instead, they keep quiet, though I do hear a murmur of “this is fine” coming from someone. As much as I would rather not, I better use my powers now- I walk up to a small group of men, hips swaying slightly, and then proceed to do what might as well be my interpretation of Jessica Rabbit. I have a reputation to keep up, mind you.

“Do any of you boys know where Hux’s office is?” I purr, throwing in a coquettish blink. Mentally, I’m kicking myself for doing this, but a girl needs to have fun now and then.

“On the t-third floor and straight to the left. Number seventeen,” one guy says with a slight stammer as his face turns a shade of neon crimson.

“Thank you,” I say, walking off with those hips swaying again and throwing in a wink and a blown kiss for good measure as I head to the elevator. The entire group is silent. Then, as a collective, I hear out loud, “This is fine.”

HUX

I hear a knock at the door, and I dash around the room, expecting everything to be perfect. Thank God the French bistro had delivery, and thank God they threw in the champagne as well. I open the door and in comes Phasma, who smiles sweetly at me.

“Hello, angel. How are you?” I ask, kissing her hand (which I know she loves.)

“I’m well, dear, I’m currently getting ready for the Halloween Gala at Nightingale. So you called me?” she asked, to which I reply with a nod.

“Yes, dear. I found out something about Vader that might surprise you,” I say, offering her a seat and a glass of champagne, which she takes.

“Hmm? What is it?” I sit down myself and take out my notebook, explaining everything I found out from last night.

“Vader is a member of the Emperor’s Mafia, a crime syndicate with plans to stage several robberies and a coup or two.” Her eyes grow wide as I tell her more, and she shakes her head in disbelief. I truly hate to see Phasma in pain, it makes me feel like I’m useless if I can’t find a solution. “I’m assuming they want to capture Nightingale like it’s a pawn on a chessboard and use it as their hangout!” I say. The moment I say those words, both of us know they’ve hit the jugular.

“How dare they?!” Phasma roars in anger, slamming a hand on the table. “They can’t do that to me!” I nod, rage bubbling up within me as well.

“I have an idea. It may seem stupid, but I believe we should expose them and their corruption to everyone. Then, if all goes well, you can have Nightingale back! What do you think?” I say, looking to her. Without a doubt, Phasma smiles, determined to see that justice is served and what is rightfully hers will return to her.

“I think the plan is wonderful. We can take the Emperor head on, and he and his self-righteous goons will be behind bars! Darling, you’re amazing!” she says, kissing me on the lips before picking up her champagne glass in a toast.

“To the plan!” I say, as she clinks glasses with mine. However, a small inkling of a thought blooms in my mind. What if we’re unsuccessful? What if it’s all for naught? While I celebrated on the outside, on the inside, I shuddered. No one said this would be easy, but it would be worth a shot anyway. Because like it or not, I wanted Phasma to have her club back.

#phux #nightingale

4 notes · View notes

layla256 · 6 years ago

Text

Key to Her Heart Chapter 3/52: Wants and Needs

A/N: Chapter 3! I was actually really excited to write this episode because I wanted to talk more about the different characters besides just Spike and Buffy, who were pretty much the main focuses of the last two chapters.

For reference, in the universe, Giles never becomes a Watcher because of his dark past. Instead he continues to study magicks while assisting the Council on a consulting basis only. We also get to see a bit more of SoleSlayer!Faith in this one.

I know a lot of people really like Faith, and I know she gets redeemed in season 7 and some in Angel, but funny story . . .

So I got to watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer on rented DVDs from Hollywood Rentals, and yes, I type this knowing I’ve dated myself in the process. We didn’t have any kind of streaming subscription because my mom was scared of entering her card number on the internet, and the episodes only aired while I had dance class, so I only had access to the first four seasons of Buffy for years, and none of the seasons of Angel. Meaning that, from middle school until college, I never saw any indication of a redemption for Faith.

Now that I have seen everything, I don’t hate her nearly as much, but she still sets off a lot of red flags for me as a character, and I know I’ll never really get over those several years of thinking of her as the girl who took over Buffy’s body and slept with Riley using it. Then again, after watching seasons 6 and 7, I just generally don’t like anyone past season 5. They kind of become assholes.

The prompt this time was:

“You really think this is a smart idea?”

“Nope.”

“Good. I’d be concerned if you did.”

And that, to me, just reeked of the Angel-Plan. I should be posting the fourth chapter tomorrow at the latest!

. . .

Giles was totally wigging, and Buffy was worried. It’s not that Giles never wigs. He’s in a constant state of wigging, but there was something different about this panic-fest.

And Buffy wasn’t just saying that because he went to Faith instead of her. Either way, that seemed like a problem/conversation for after Giles was being hunted by the demon of the week.

“Look, B,” Faith said, brushing off Willow and Buffy’s concern with a wave of her fingers, “We’ve got this, all right? We’ve got a whole plan and everything. Once we get the big bad demon out of Ms. Calendar, it’ll jump to Angel who can fight it off with his own demon. Then it’ll be dead, your would-be watcher can play his Get Out of Hell Free card, and everything’s five by five.”

For a solid ten seconds, Buffy considered bashing Faith’s head in with a four by four. It probably wouldn’t stick (Slayer healing and all), but it would certainly make her feel better about the situation overall.

“And Angel’s sure he can fight Eyghon off?” Xander questioned, raising a disbelieving brow. “Doesn’t he have a big ‘I can’t fight my demon without curse-y help’ problem?”

This was apparently the worst thing Xander could have said because Faith was immediately in his face. “Angel’s more man than you can manage to be Harris,” she growled. “Way more. So just shut your breakable face and stay out of our way.”

“Not gonna happen,” Buffy declared, drawing their attention to her. “If it was just Rayne, I’d say go ahead, but it’s not. If Giles is involved, we’re all involved.” Stepping between the Slayer and her best friend, Buffy made sure her voice was firm and clear, almost mimicking her mother when she threatened a grounding. “There’s no version of this where we don’t get involved. Got it?”

Faith looked like she wanted to argue, but Amy cut her off. “Let them tag along Faith,” she sneered, looking down at Willow and Buffy over her nose. “See how actually protecting the Hellmouth looks for once.”

Big talk for a girl who got possessed by her own mother the year before, but Buffy wasn’t enough of a bitch to throw that in the other girl’s face. Just barely.

“They don’t need to,” Jesse complained, glaring daggers at Buffy. She held back a scoff. Frankly, she much preferred him glaring daggers than staring at her tits.

“I don’t care what you think,” Buffy growled. “That ‘would-be-watcher’ is our friend, and we’re not turning our backs on him and just hoping you three aren’t gonna toss him to the wolves to save your own asses.”

Faith scowled at Buffy, chest puffing up in aggressive arrogance. “Fine. Just remember this: your ‘friend’ got himself into this mess, and he came to me to get out of it.”

“Only because he didn’t want us in danger!” Willow protested, looking just as annoyed as Buffy felt, but Buffy put a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. They needed each other.

In the end, everyone agreed to run home, lie to Mommy and Daddy, and make it back to the library for the main event.

Except Buffy didn’t go home.

. . .

“Have you lost your bloody mind you stupid bint?” Spike growled, prowling carefully in the shadows of the refinery with a furious look on his face. “This close to fucking sunset an’ you walk to a demon nest like you own the bloody place!”

“Giles is in danger,” Buffy said quickly, pulling Spike out of his wrath. “Some Emo-thingie demon is chasing him and they’re main plan hinges on Angel beating it.”

Spike stood for a moment, blinked twice, and sighed heavily. Something he seemed to be doing often in Buffy’s presence. He held no malice for her pseudo-Watcher, but he was getting a little tired of this white hat that kept getting dropped on his head.

Still, it seemed the man cared for Buffy at least.

. . .

Spike had been enjoying luring some idiot blonde named . . . Melody? Something like that. Name didn’t matter, just that she was stupid and full of delicious human blood. Suddenly though, his meal was out of his arms and a crossbow was pointed at his chest.

He looked up, expected the Slayer or one of her annoying little shit friends, but instead looked at the face of a furious Would-Be-Watcher. Rupert Giles looked like a bloody demon hunter the way he was decked out, not a hint of tweed in sight. Yes, he looked every bit the man willing to fight his own battles.

Odd for a Watcher.

“What the fuck are you planning with Buffy?” Watcher growled, tightening his grip on the crossbow.

Spike was honestly surprised. From his own experience with Watchers, he assumed that they weren’t even allowed to know a curse any worse than damn. More and more, this man was moving up in Spike’s esteem.

It didn’t mean Spike wasn’t going to kill him, but he’d at least do it in a respectful way.

“Ain’t got a problem with the girl Watcher,” Spike finally said, putting his hands in the air. “She an’ Red are fine by me. Know better than to piss off a couple of witches.”

Watcher obviously wasn’t buying it. “Ah, yes. That would be why you murdered the entire Frat house they partied at last night then. Angry you missed your intended dinner perhaps?”

Now that was a line crossed. Spike moved faster than the other man could see, knocking the crossbow out of his hands before slamming him into the nearby brick wall.

“Now you listen ‘ere,” Spike snarled, face deformed into his usual demonic visage. “Now, I like me a good slaughter. Screams every which way, blood soakin’ the soil. Get’s me all touch-y feel-y with the Brit deep down in me.” His mocking smirk turned into a frown, “But I don’ touch girls like that. Any bint comes to my bed comes willin’ or not at all. That’d be your boy Angelus’s schtick.”

The Watcher’s face, now red from a lack of air as opposed to anger twisted in disgust. “Not . . . my . . .” He didn’t finish, but he didn’t have to; the point was made clear enough.

“Ah, you don’ like the lad either then. Good, then you’ll understand.” He lessened his grip. The human wouldn’t be able to escape, but he’d at least be able to breathe. “I don’ do the ‘rape’ bit Angelus was so keen on back in the days. Don’t let my boys do it either. They know better.” He looked down, focusing on the water puddles at his feet. “Those bastards at the Frat should ‘ave as well.”

Suddenly, he released the Watcher, pacing in front of his gasping form. Spike’s hands clenched and unclenched while his fangs pricked at his lips. His demon howled angrily, demanding blood and retribution. More than had already been taken.

“Buffy an’ Red, they’re good chits, yea?” he asked, turning to stare at a shocked Giles. “Genuine good ones. Ya don’ see that shit often. Girls that strong or kind. Showed some kindness to a soulless shit like me. An’ what’d they get for it? Bunch of arrogant fuckin’ shits slippin’ ‘em roofies and—and—”

Spike couldn’t finish. Much like Buffy the night before, he couldn’t seem to get the words out of his mouth, seeming to find them caught behind his fangs. He kicked at the wall opposite the Watcher, watching the bricks breaking under the force.

It didn’t make him feel better.

Not like their blood had.

“They—” it seemed Giles couldn’t handle it either, staring at his knees in disbelief as he knelt on the filthy ground of the alley. “Those repugnant little cunts,” he finally ground out, knuckles white as he gripped his hands tight. “I’ll—”

“Whatever you wanna do Watcher, I promise I did it already,” Spike said, face fading back to his human image as he came back to himself, shoulder slumped and heart still heavy. “Every damn thing I could think of.”

Giles nodded, standing up and brushing his knees as that good, old British upper lip kicked in. “I’d best check on them then,” he said. Though his stance and face were neutral, the shaking in his voice belayed his true emotions. It seemed the git genuinely cared for the girls, unlike the actual Watchers of Spike’s past.

The two began walking away, Spike not feeling like a meal after having his stomach turn the way it did. “Thank you.”

The words stopped him. Spike turned around, shock on his face as he stared at the still neutral Watcher. “Wha?” he said, not understanding.

“I said ‘Thank you,’” Giles repeated, picking up his crossbow, but not pointing it at Spike. “You defended my . . . charges when I could not. I may not approve of your methods, but . . .” the words were left hanging in the air.

Watcher may not approve, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t grateful in the end.

…

“How’s Peaches ‘sposed to help you lot then?” Spike asked, taking out a fag to pull on so Buffy couldn’t see his worried face. “He’s killed plenty o’ demons ‘fore. Sure even a poofter like him’ll be alright in the end.”

Buffy shook her head, not looking convinced. “Faith and her merry band of muck ups think it’ll be a great idea to have him get possessed by the demon and fight it back with his demon. You know, like a shitty WWE match that no one wants to see.”

Spike almost choked on the puff of smoke he pulled in, saved only by the fact that he didn’t need to breathe in the first place. “You really think this is a smart idea?”

“Nope.”

“Good. I’d be concerned if you did.” He threw his finished fag into a puddle nearby, biting the inside of his lip in thought. She was right to be concerned. Angelus couldn’t control his own demon, let alone another. Either he’d keep his own demon too far at bay and lose to the interloper, or he’d let it loose far too much, and Spike doubted that good ol’ Angelus was all there after a hundred years trapped with a soul.

“I’ll let them try, though,” Buffy admitted, folding her arms over her chest. “Faith is the actual Slayer. Even if she doesn’t act like it half the time.”

Spike snorted. The Slayer acted it often enough to get on his last bloody nerve.

“But I want you there, in case something goes wrong.”

He stopped and stared at her for a moment. Want. It was an odd word to focus on, one he rarely heard in reference to himself. Drusilla had needed him. Needed her Dark Prince to shield her from all the dark monsters that prowled their world, but she had never wanted him. No, she only wanted her precious Daddy. Anything she said differently, he knew, was either a momentary delusion or an attempt to placate him.

Buffy though—Buffy meant it.

“I’ll be there.”

…

Spike was almost disappointed to see his Grand-Sire manage his feat, pouting at the thought of a lost fight. Still, he figured this was for the best. Watcher was safe and sound, Buffy had been appeased by his mere presence, and the Slayerettes had no idea about Buffy’s “special friend”, meaning they wouldn’t be giving her any kind of hell.

Catching her eye as she carried a harried Watcher between herself and the Whelp, he gave her his signature smirk before sinking into the shadows, glad to see her smile in return before he disappeared from sight.

She hadn’t needed him tonight, and, deep down, he was sure both of them knew that when they’d come up with their little “Plan B”.

But she had wanted him there, and that was the important part.

...

The part about want vs need was added in completely last minute, but I loved it so I kept it. I recently had a talk with a friend about relationships and how some people prefer to be wanted over needed and vice versa and how that can say a lot about a person.

Spike always seemed, to me, like the kind of person who would prefer to be wanted. In my headcanons, going to those awful parties was a requirement for both him and the hosts out of polite obligation. No one but his mother ever really wanted him around, meaning she was the only one who ever gave him positive affection. As a result, I think he spends the rest of his life and unlife chasing that dragon; wanting to be wanted.

#spuffy #Fanfiction challenge #52 prompt challenge #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy #willow #xander #jesse #amy #giles #angel #spiderman #ep 2x08 #dark ages

1 note · View note

lehenne · 7 years ago

Text

Guide werewolf, ch.3

“Oh my god, Emilia !” Elizabeth is coming toward us. Don't worry Emilia, I'll take your beating in your stead. I place myself in front of her and offer my back to the furious mother. “What happened ? I called the police !” She's here. I tense up, wait for the pain. But she hugs her daughter instead. Mh ? Okay, maybe it's Clive who does the beating. Okay.

“I just went for a walk, mom ! Matt was with me, nothing could have happened.” She reciprocates the hug. “chill...”

“Chill ?” Elizabeth thunders. “You're telling me to chill ?” Her anger explodes like a volcano. I put myself between the two women, because she might be the one doing the beatings after all. I succeed in separating them, even though they don't even seem to notice. “You disappear without a word, and I should chill ?”

“I'm sorry, mom.” She's not really sorry, but she's a good actor. And her mother doesn't seem capable of holding her grudge. I think she was just scared. “I went to the market.”

“What ?” Her mom says, incredulous.

“Can we go home, first ? My feet hurt.”

When we enter the house, I'm ready to take on Clive, but he just stands in the middle of the living room, looking relieved. He doesn't smell of anger, but I still keep my eyes on him when he comes to hug Emilia. Okay. No beating ? Okay...

“I went shopping, guys, it was cool,” she says. “Matt, c'mon, stop pushing me back. Let me... take the bags.”

She struggles to untangle the knots she'd made, but eventually puts the bags on the ground. She goes fishing in them, and takes a big yellow candle out. “That's for mom, it's vanilla scented ! I don't think you should light it without an open window though ; you could pass out from all the vanila.”

“Emilia...” says Elizabeth, her shoulders dropping as she accepts the gift.

“That's for you, dad,” she says, handing a chocolate bar to Clide, “The guy in the shop said it was the closest to 100% chocolate I could find.” She goes on to show what she's taken for herself and me, proud and happy. Her parents look defeated, and when Elizabeth asks her why she didn't tell them anything, she takes a second to reply.

“Well... I'd rather apologise than lying by telling I won't do it.” Which results in more shouting. But it's not angry shouting, it's frustration. Eventually, I go curl up in a corner and let them bicker, because it's obvious no one will beat anyone, and because the harness is starting to really hurt, and laying down makes it less annoying, and that guy at the market was scary, and what did he mean by “that family” ?

After some time, the whiff of grilled steak, baked potatoes and chick peas as well as the voice of Emilia calling my name wake me up. I walk to her and gently bump her leg.

“What are still doing in wolf form ?” I... didn't know I was supposed to change. “And why do you still wear the harness ?” Clive, setting the table, voices my thoughts.

“I think you're supposed to take it off, darling.”

“Oh, right... wait, you've kept it all night ?” she realises. She apologizes profusely all the while taking it off, and I have to repress a tailwag ; At least she'll remember the lesson. It feels so great when it's finally off ! “So, will you turn back now ?” Emilia asks. I head into the bathroom, but just as I'm about to close the door, Clive stops me.

“I went shopping today, and I found you some new clothes,” he says, pointing at a neatly folded new t-shirt, pants and underwear. I'm aware I'm staring at him with awe while he points at the sink. “There's a toothbrush for you, it's the orange one. And that basket over here is for your dirty clothes.” He says this as if it's... normal. I'm glad I'm in wolf shape right now, because I couldn't have kept the tears away. How lucky am I to have found such a family ?

I don't immediately turn human when he closes the door. I need some time to regain my composure. Eventually, I change and hop into the shower. Warm water is still the best thing I've ever felt on my skin. In front of the mirror, I comb the curls of my hair to the side, because it's the only hairdo that makes me look like a responsible adult. The red marks the harness left around my chest blend in between the scars, so I'm not too worried about it ; I heal fast. The towel that Clive gave me is soft and it almost smells like lavender. Too bad it's fake. The clothes he bought are fine. I've never really cared about what I wore, and the priest at the church shelter told me I had terrible fashion sense, and he even said that it was something coming from him.

Everyone is waiting for me at the table when I come out. Oh no. I hurry to my seat with my head low and apologize.

“What ?” Says Clive, frowning, but quickly dismissing it. “That shirt looks good on you, eh ?”

“Oh, yes sir. Thank you.” Does nothing bother them ? At all ? Emilia starts eating, but her parents' gaze, seated in front of me, linger on my arms a bit. Should I start eating ? To be sure, I wait until they do. We eat in silence for a while. Emilia breaks the silence first.

“What's written on that collar you wear ? And why do you wear it anyway ?”

“It reassures people to see a collar on any dog. Especially a lion sized one, the association said.”

“Why don't you take it off now ?” Elizabeth asks. I shrug.

“I've never taken it off since I was ten.”

“Why ten ?” Emilia doesn't even stop eating to speak.

“That's the age we start going to the market to herd the sheep. We almost look like regular wolves at ten.”

“Herd the sheep ? Are you a country bumpkin or what ?” I don't answer right away, because I'm busy swallowing my food.

“I don't know. The priest said from what I told him we were probably Amish or something like that.” My partner almost chokes on her spaghetti, so I pat her back until she stops coughing. She reaches for her water and drinks the whole thing.

“So... you grew up without electricity or internet ?”

“Yes.” I smile at her amazement.

“So this house is like, from the futur for you.” I chuckle a bit.

“Well, I've spent a year at the church, and they have a TV, so I've watched plenty of it. They even helped me find the association on the Internet.” I try not to sound too proud, but I seem to fail, because Emilia starts laughing like crazy.

After the meal, she insists on bringing dessert on her own. It's an apple pie she bought at the market. It smells amazing, between the caramel and the cinnamon. After I finish my slice, Clive hands me a second one. I'm about to refuse, because it's the last slice, but the resolve in his look dissuades me.

“So, will you tell me already what's written on your collar, or is it some kind of secret ?”

“Bonfire,” I say. And before she asks me, I answer her next question. “It's the wolf name the elders chose for me. It's a tradition from before we came out to the public.”

“So cute,” she whispers, sipping her mug of hot chocolate.

“Emilia, why don't you go do your homework, we have to talk between adults.” I almost get up to let them both alone, but I'm supposed to be an adult. Elizabeth waits for her daughter to get up the stairs to start talking. “How did your first day go ?” She asks with unnease. It's not what she wants to ask. Not really.

“All went well. Emilia is a very strong child.”

“Good.” She stalls her next question. Clive speaks up first.

“Matthew. Those scars on your arms, what... where do they come from ?” I look down at my parents' handiwork ; A few scratchmarks and many whip strokes. The priest had asked the same thing.

“Oh, don't worry, I haven't been fighting with anyone.” They don't look reassured. “It looks like a lot of beating, but I swear I'm not so bad.” Not even an iota. I cross my arms and nervously grab my arm. “I... I won't cause any mischief.” Clive gets up and comes toward me. So that's how they throw me out. Not even one day into the job. I offer my neck to him and close my eyes.

He hugs me. Why... His warmth wraps around me as surely as his huge arms across my back. I'm too scared to move or speak ; what if he lets go ? He speaks only when I give up and relax against him.

“Son, you don't have to fear anyone in this house.” I stay absolutely still for a long while, with nothing crossing my mind and a lump in my throat. When he breaks his hold, he grabs my shoulders and meet my eyes. I lower my gaze, so he pats my head with a sigh.

When I curl up in my bed, Clive's words rock me into slumber.

Maddie and ms Stonewell's looks of stupor when they realise who I am almost makes me crack a smile. With Emilia holding onto my arm, I lead the way down the driveway just like yesterday.

“Hi ms Stonewell, hi Maddie,” she chimes while climbing into the car. “You remember Matthiew from yesterday.”

“Hello,” I say in a friendly voice, seating in the car and closing the door.

“Hello...” The mother says.

“Say, Maddie,” Emilia starts seriously, leaning forward. “Tell me : How cute is he ?” Maddie, in the front seat, has been staring at me since I've fastened my seatbelt. Her tone is as serious as Maddie's.

“Hella.” I know from the TV shows I should be blushing from this compliment. But I can't help the fact that I've no idea what cute means to humans. Or at all, really. I smile at her nonetheless.

“What in the hell is this mess ?” Ms Stonewell states as we turn into the school's alley. There are colorfull vans everywhere, with satellite dishes on their rooftops and people in suits speaking to people with cameras, all of them waiting for something.

“What is it ?” Asks my partner.

“TV crews,” Maddie answers with excitement.

“Ugh,” Emilia says with disgust, “how much do you bet Tony called his uncle.” She proceeds on opening her bag, puts her cane in, and extends her hand to me. “We're gonna hold hands, okay ? I don't want them to spot us.”

“Alright.” Without her cane to scan the floor, I casually mention any step, while we head inside the building. “Sidewalk,” I mention as we pass a lady with a microphone, checking her hair. We enter school ground without trouble. But then, right when we pass the shrubs, an excited voice makes me jump up.

“That guy ! His collar !”

“Shit ! Your collar ! Speed up, boy !” Emilia pushes me, so I do as she asks.

“Stairs in three, two, one...” we climb up the four steps like we've been doing it for years. A lady supervisor, peering above our heads, opens the door for us.

“Calm down now, don't worry, they're not allowed beyond the fence.” She speaks softly, and waits for Maddie to come in before closing the door. “Go directly to the gymnasium, alright ?” Her attention goes back to the entrance, that she monitors with a stern expression. Before we go, Emilia takes her cane from her bag.

“That run was crazy scary.” We follow Maddie through the badly lit corridors, into the inner courtyard, and to the gym's entrance.

There's already a lot of students, all screaming to each other and waiting, impatient. I also spot many adults in the crowd. On the wall they're facing, there's a projection of a werewolf ; She's a dominent elder, and it seems like she's looking directly at me. The principal, when he sets eyes on Emilia and realises who I am, shows the same bewildered expression as Maddie and her mom earlier. He heads down from an improvised pedestal to meet with us, so I inform my partner.

“Good morning Emilia. Good morning... Matthiew, I suppose ?” He says very professionally, extending a hand for me to shake.

“Indeed, sir.” I say with all the confidence I can muster. Among the screaming mass, I can already hear a few “Look, it's him !” and other variations of the same sort.

“I'm sorry, all of this might be too sudden for you.” Maybe I don't look that confident after all. “Emilia, are you up for this ? You could stay back if you wish.” I can feel her strong grip on my arm, and hear her heart pound in her chest.

“No, I'll do it with him, mr Wade.”

While we wait for the last students to arrive, he proceeds to tell us about what he'll be showing on the screen ; A few rules to observe around guide dogs, but mostly werewolf facts he had gathered the day before. To reassure the students and more particularly their parents, who showed up as he expected.

“I hope you'll provide more details for us and be able to put everyone at ease.”

We begin the presentation under religious silence. Mr Wade decides to start with “the werewolf related” material. After the short presentation he had prepared, he gives me his microphone to speak up. I don't really know what to add ; the documentation he's shown was pretty extensive and covered all the basics ; the change, a pack's structure and behavior, as well as statistics from scientific studies I barely understood.

Microphone in hand, I scan the crowd staring back at me.

“Huh...” There's so many people. Thankfully, Emilia pries the microphones from my hand with a pat on my arm.

“Questions ?” She says simply. Chaos ensues. I answer so many question I lose count. They range from interesting ;

“Do mothers give birth in wolf or human form ?”

“I don't know. Men aren't allowed to have anything to do with it.” To very stupid ;

“Do you sniff other peoples' butts ?”

“No. Dogs do that because they can't speak.” To embarrassing for the other humans ;

“Can you lick your own balls ?” The principal doesn't let me answer that one, even if I don't really mind myself.

Emilia seems to have fun. We spend the whole morning there, and when the questions finally die down, mr Wade ends the meeting with the guide dog rules. On the screen, he shows a giant poster with a dog wearing a harness panting at the crowd, and the basic manners to observe written next to it.

> Speak to the person first. Don't distract the dog.

>Don't touch the dog without permission. Don't give it food.

>Don't intrude the handler's privacy by asking about their disability. Respect their choice of not talking about their service dog.

When the time comes for lunch and the principal chases everybody out, I'm free from the inquisition. During lunch, I sit at the table with Emilia and her friends, listening to their conversation about the science project they're working on. I don't get any of it, but it sounds interesting. In recess, the boy that had asked if I could lick my privates comes back.

“Hey, so can you do it or not ?” He asks with a smirk and a wink. Surely if the principal didn't want me to answer, there was a reason.

“Who knows,” I wink back at him. He leaves with a disappointed “That guy's no fun.”

I totally can, though.

The afternoon math lesson fascinates me. I don't understand any of it, but the fact that humans could is amazing. The professor reads aloud what he writes on the whiteboard for Emilia's benefit, which she diligently types on her computer. On my right, probably Jason isn't paying as much attention ; He's drawing birds on the sides of his notebooks ; It's so well done I recognise a hoopoe, a blue tit and a woodpecker. When he notices me looking at his drawing, he clears his throat, turns the page and starts copying the math problems on the board.

The end of the day comes. We wait for ms Stonewell in the entrance hall.

“The TV vans are still here,” Maddie says, her gaze turned to the school's sidewalk. “They're interviewing students. Traitors.”

“Are TV people that bad ?” I ask, looking at the same thing she is. Groups of kids are talking to cameras with visible enthusiasm.

“Yes. Don't talk to them, okay ?” Emilia's angry. Her grip tightens around my arm. “They're assholes. No sense of privacy.” They must have done something to her.

“Alright.” I say solemnly.

“Take your collar off, we're not getting caught this time.” She's already putting her cane away, and extends her hand to me, waiting for my collar.

Ms Stonewell parks her car on the other side of the alley, as far away from the vans as she can. We make a run for it and this time we get through without being spotted.

#writting #urban fantasy #blind #gay #werewolf #service dog #third chapter #panic attack

16 notes · View notes