#if you check the list in my pinned and count it like hey this isn't 13

[harmonicakai]

Was It Something I Said?

Part 5 of the "Anyone Else But You" series

Pairing: Huening Kai x Reader

Summary: It gets harder and harder for you and Kai to pretend like there isn't something going on between the two of you.

Tropes: enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, fluff, angst, stylist!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex (mdni!!!!), reader is insecure, miscommunication, alcohol, injuries

A/N: ahhh this series is almost over!!! i'm gonna miss it so much, but there's still plenty to come :-)

FIC INSPIRED PLAYLIST <3

“Did I fuck it up again? Are we destined to be friends? I wanna give you more than that” —Be Around Me, Will Joseph Cook

Kai and the boys have been in Japan for two days now, but with the amount of times that he has you on the phone, it feels like he never even left. Even if he refuses to talk about what happened at the album party, things are going pretty well between you and him.

You’re about to head out the door when your phone rings. You don’t even need to check the caller ID.

“Y/N, you didn’t call! The show’s about to start and you didn’t call!” Kai’s voice rings out of your phone’s speaker. While you can tell he’s mostly joking, he’s also a little worked up.

“Kai, we just talked, like, two hours ago. You know I have that date tonight.” Oh, he knows.

“Yeah, but I like when you call right before I’m about to go on stage. You’re my good luck charm.”

“You’re just being superstitious.”

“I wish you could see me pouting right now.” His sad puppy dog visuals pop into your head.

“Ugh, fine,” you relent. “You’re going to do amazing, Hyuka. Fighting!”

“That’s my girl!” he laughs, immediately ready to give his all on the stage. “I miss you so much.” 

His affection catches you off guard and you go quiet. 

“Hello?” he asks. “Y/N, are you there?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m still here. Call me back so I can know how it went, okay?”

“You know I will,” he assures you. There’s obvious disappointment in his voice.

“Hueningie, it’s time to go!” you hear Taehyun call in the background.

“I have to go. Bye. Have fun on your date!”

“Bye,” you say. He ends the call and you feel an ache in your stomach. You miss him too, so why couldn’t you have just said it back?

When you finally get out the front doors of your building, Seongjin’s already waiting for you, flowers in hand. You note his outfit, something similar to what you have pinned on your “boyfriend manifestation” moodboard.

“Hey,” he says, holding the bouquet out to you. “These are for you.”

“They’re lovely,” you smile, bringing them to your nose to sniff them. You love the smell of roses. “I don’t think anybody’s ever gotten me flowers before.”

“Well, there’s more where that came from.” Seongjin’s hand finds its way into yours. He’s bold and romantic, even dressing exactly how you’d like him to. He’s checking off all of your boxes, and yet something feels off.

As the two of you walk towards the city’s center, you actually have no clue what he’s planned for tonight until he stops outside of a restaurant that you’ve had on your bucket list for years now.

“You’re joking!” you say in disbelief. “You have to get a reservation months in advance to eat here, and even then it’s impossible.”

“I called in a few favors,” he grins, holding the door open for you. You blush, wondering what you’ve done to deserve even a fraction of the effort he’s gone through.

The dinner’s going okay. There’s just something about the way that Seongjin’s meticulously planned everything, even his responses to your small talk, that makes you suspicious. He feels too perfect, almost unreal.

You find yourself focusing more on the delicious food than on any of what he’s been saying.

“You know,” he starts, “I only went to that album party because I knew you’d be there.”

The hint of Seongjin speaking in a less rehearsed way grabs your attention. You look up to see him grinning.

“No, you didn’t,” you laugh, dismissing him. “You probably didn’t even know who I was before Yeonjun introduced us.”

“Of course I did. I’ve thought you were cute for a while now. The way you’re always running around with your arms full of clothes. I can’t wait to debut so you can dress me up.”

You can’t believe that anybody had even noticed you around the building, let alone taken a romantic interest. If only somebody else felt that way. 

“Well, does that mean you’re not a big fan of TXT?” you ask, sipping your wine. You’re mostly joking, but also curious what his honest opinion of the group is.

“I mean, obviously, I think my uncle makes great songs for them. But besides Yeonjun, I don’t think they’re the kind of guys I’d really hang out with, you know?”

Your face heats up at his answer and your energy shifts. “No, I don’t know. Care to explain?”

“The other guys just seem so dorky. Not to mention half of them were wasted at a work event. Like that Huening kid whose outburst interrupted our conversation. What was that about anyway?”

“It’s none of your business,” you scoff, setting your silverware down. “And he’s not a kid. He’s almost twenty-two.”

“Look, Y/N, I know you’re close with them. I didn’t mean to make you upset. We don’t have to talk about this anymore.”

“You’re right, we don’t,” you say, standing up and gathering your things. “Thank you for dinner. I’ll see you around, I guess.”

On your way home, you start to wonder if you’ve made a mistake blowing off someone so well connected, but the way he talked about your friends makes your blood boil. 

Then again, things had been going just fine before then. Maybe you should’ve just smiled and nodded like you usually do. You’re not sure when you’ll ever get asked on another date again, let alone one that was planned so well.

Suddenly, your phone rings and for some reason, you answer. “What do you want now, Kai?!” you snap into the speaker.

“Whoa,” an unexpected voice replies, dragging out the word. “Actually, it’s Yeonjun.”

“Ugh, I’m sorry,” you groan, embarrassed at your attitude. “Hi, Jun.”

“So, I’m guessing your date didn’t go very well?”

“I think I’m going to get fired,” you huff, finally reaching your building again.

“That bad, huh? Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know. He’s handsome and thoughtful and everything I could ask for really, but there wasn’t any sort of spark. Plus he called everyone in the group except you dorky, and that’s when I just got up, thanked him, and left.”

“Everyone else is dorky, Y/N. You really couldn’t wait until the end of dinner because of that?” 

“Fine, it’s stupid when I say it out loud. But the damage is already done,” you sigh, digging through your purse for your keys.

“I’m sure he’d reconsider if you apologize,” he reasons with you. You’re not sure that you actually have anything to be sorry about.

“I shouldn’t have to! He was making fun of Kai!” That’s it, you realize. That’s the reason you’re so upset. Of course this is somehow about him.

“Ah, I see now,” Yeonjun says, dropping the issue. “Well, hopefully you won’t run into him at work much.”

“Hopefully,” you agree. “How was the show?”

“It was amazing,” he muses. “I really played off the crowd’s energy, and they loved my solo stage.”

“That’s awesome, Jun,” you smile back. Ever since you and Kai have grown closer, it’s felt like Yeonjun has taken a backseat. “Anything interesting happen?”

“Soobin tried to do the Water challenge,” he laughs. “We all ran to cover him up, though. Beomgyu played the guitar, and MOA kept mentioning how Taehyun looked like Ash Ketchum.”

“Maybe you guys need to do a Pokémon concept,” you think out loud. You don’t fail to notice that Yeonjun has conveniently left out Kai from his recap, as if he’s testing to see whether you’ll bring him up first.

“Would I get to be a fire type trainer?” Yeonjun asks. So, he really isn’t going to mention how Kai did tonight. You bite your lip, resisting the urge to ask about him.

“Yes, of course. I think Soobin would be water, Beomgyu grass, and Taehyun psychic. Actually, wait. Maybe Beomgyu would have fairy types.”

“And Kai?” Yeonjun finally relents. You breathe out in relief at the mention of him.

“He’d be electric,” you decide. “Or normal. Whichever ones are the cutest, really.”

“You wanna know how the concert went for him, don’t you?” he asks.

“No, it’s okay, Jun,” you brush him off. “We can talk about whatever you want.”

“Y/N. It’s cool. I’ve just been messing with you.” You can practically hear him smirking through the phone.

“Oh,” you twiddle your thumbs. “Well, yes, then tell me how he did.”

Yeonjun sucks in a breath. “First off, I don’t want you to get worried.”

“Okay? Why would I be worried?”

Yeonjun hesitates before answering you. “He’s at the hospital right now.” Your stomach drops.

“What?! Is that what you were hiding from me?”

“I knew it would make you upset, Y/N. It’s not a big deal. It’s probably just a sprain, alright?”

“But he’s hurt,” you sigh. “Is that the reason you called me and not him?”

“Can’t I just want to hear my dear friend’s voice and ask how her date went?”

“Mhmm, sure.” You side eye him through the phone, plopping down onto your bed. You’re too tired to change out of your date clothes.

“Okay, fine,” he continues. “Kai did ask me to call you while the doctor checks him out. He knew it would probably be all over social media and didn’t want you to worry.”

“It’s probably my fault he injured himself,” you mutter, kicking off your shoes. “I hope it’s not too bad.”

“Y/N, he’s fine,” Yeonjun assures you. “And how could it possibly be your fault? We aren’t even in the same country right now. The stage was probably just wet because of the rain from earlier.”

“I think I made him upset right before you guys went on stage. He said he missed me and I didn’t say it back, but I think he wanted me to.”

“Hmm, I guess he did seem a little down now that you mention it.”

“Well, tell him I said sorry.” Knowing that he was noticeably off tonight because of you makes you feel horrible. If you had just said it back, he probably could’ve focused on the show better.

“I mean, if you want to wait and tell him yourself, he’ll probably be back any second now.”

“I don’t really feel like talking anymore. Night, Jun. I’ll see you later.” Before Yeonjun can say bye, you’ve already hung up. You’ve never been more confused over your emotions than tonight.

Throwing a pillow over your head, you scream into it. Your love life is in shambles and all you can think about is Huening Kai’s stupid, possibly-sprained ankle.

—————-

When Kai’s plane lands, you’re the first person he wants to see. Before he even left, he made sure that you had a key to the apartment, something Yeonjun was always too lazy to do.

You haven’t brought up the disaster of a date you went on while he was away, and to your relief, he hasn’t asked about it either. It’s almost as if he doesn’t care that it happened.

Getting him to agree to watch the new Mean Girls remake for your weekly movie night was much easier than you expected. You had even prepared a whole speech for why he should relent even though it was supposed to be his choice tonight.

“It’s a musical,” you reasoned. “You’ll like it!”

You were very, very wrong. The movie was horrible, but at least that meant that the two of you could hate-watch it together.

“Those lyrics…” he starts, rubbing his temples as the closing credits played.

“And the costumes!” They were not going to age well.

“That was really bad,” he laughs. “That’s the last time I’m letting you pick when it’s my turn.”

“I have a feeling I’ll still be able to charm you in the future,” you say, batting your eyelashes.

“That is so not fair.” He crosses his arms. “Why are you so cute?”

“It’s my superpower,” you say, grinning. A few months ago, you would’ve never said something like that, but Kai makes you feel so much better about yourself.

The way you’re looking at him makes him blush, and he glances away hoping you haven’t noticed. His gaze focuses on the clock on the wall.

“Oh, Y/N, it’s past two.” Kai says. Time always seems to disappear when you’re together. “Do you want me to walk you home?”

Thunder booms outside the window and you can hear raindrops hitting the roof.

“That might be a bad idea. I can just call a car,” you say, grabbing your phone. He stops you.

“Just stay here,” he offers. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“You can’t sleep on the couch,” you disagree. “Yeonjun will think we’re mad at each other.”

“Well, if we sleep in here together, he’ll probably start planning our wedding.”

“I guess we’re losers in this game, huh?” you say, immediately cringing at the pun. The two of you exchange glances before cracking up.

Kai always takes longer to stop laughing than you. “Okay, how about this. You take the bed and I’ll sleep on the floor,” he says, still giddy.

“But it’s your bed! I can sleep on the floor.”

“I am not letting you sleep on the floor. You’re my guest.”

“This is stupid, Kai. Yeonjun doesn’t know the difference whether one of us sleeps on the floor or in the bed. We might as well just share.”

“But you snore, remember?”

“There’s actually no real evidence to that claim,” you refute.

“Well, it’s a twin sized bed. I might crush you.”

“I don’t need that much space. We can even sleep head to toe, if you want.”

“My feet stink. Your feet stink.” The effort he was going through to not share a bed with you was eating away at you. You’re sure he’s slept with his group mates plenty of times before, so what difference did it make?

“Oh my god! Fine, sleep on the floor.” You throw a pillow and one of his many plushies his way, turning on your side to face the wall. 

“Are you mad at me?” he asks from behind, his voice now quiet and careful. To be honest, you’re not quite sure whether you’re being serious or not.

You turn over to look at him, sitting on the edge of the bed, petting the plushie’s head.

“Kai,” you sit up. “Kai, look, I’m sorry. I’m not mad.”

“I feel like I’m always putting my foot in my mouth when I’m around you.”

“You’re not. I wouldn’t spend so much time with you if I didn’t want to.” You cup his cheek, running your thumb over one of his moles. “I promise.”

Yeonjun isn’t afraid to check you when you’re in the wrong, but Kai is too sweet to deal with any sort of confrontation. It’s something you’ve been having to adjust to lately.

“We can share the bed. I didn’t mean to make it seem like it was a bad thing,” he says. Sometimes you think he can read your mind.

“Okay,” you say, making room for him. He turns off the lamp and climbs in next to you, making sure to leave a big enough gap so he doesn’t touch you. Even in the dark, it’s obvious that he’s lying halfway off the mattress.

“You can come closer,” you say. God forbid he falls onto the floor in the middle of the night and it’s your fault for hogging all of the bed.

He moves inward, your faces so close that your noses are nearly touching. You could probably count his freckles from here.

Sure, every once in a while, you’ll lay your head on his shoulder or he’ll lay his in your lap, but this is much more intimate. Suddenly, your heartbeat feels too fast to fall asleep anymore.

“Y/N,” Kai whispers, although he already has your full attention. You like the way he says your name. His fingers grip your waist under the sheets, bringing you even closer. 

You tremble under his touch, his eyes locked on yours. This is a dangerous game.

In seconds, his mouth is pressed against yours, desperate and hungry. You’ve been kissed by boys before, but never like this. You can’t get enough of him.

You run your fingers through his hair, still soft even after several sessions of bleach. Like that night in the cab, you feel him hard against you, except now it’s intentional. It feels good.

Kai climbs on top of you, finding his way between your legs without breaking the kiss. You wonder how often he’s done this.

“We shouldn’t,” you breathe as he presses kisses along your collarbone, although it’s lost between your heavy sighs.

His hand grazes the waistband of your shorts. Visions of him doing the same with other girls—specifically the one from that morning—pop into your head. Panicking, you pull away from his kiss, using all of your strength to push him off of you.

“Y/N?” he asks, his lips puffy and his brows knitted in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“I have to go,” you say, tugging down the hemline of your t-shirt, which had ridden up during the exchange. You hop off the bed and attempt to find your sneakers in the dark.

“Please don’t go,” he pleads with you, grabbing onto your wrist. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It was stupid.”

You turn back to him, tears welling up in your eyes. “It was stupid?”

“No! That’s not what I meant. I just—I don’t want to do anything that could ruin our friendship. You mean too much to me, Y/N. I shouldn’t have kissed you, no matter how much I wanted to and no matter how good it felt.”

“It felt good?” you say, stepping towards him. It’s a relief to know he at least enjoyed it as much as you did.

“Really good,” Kai admits. “But it shouldn’t have happened. I can’t risk losing you.”

“Right.” It’s a really good point. “I don’t want to lose you either.”

“So… no kissing.”

“No kissing,” you agree.

“Anything else off the table?” He asks this in a way that you can’t tell if he’s flirting with you or not. You decide to take the risk and step closer to him. 

“I think cuddling is fair game. It would be too great a loss to our friendship.” You hold his hand.

“Mhmm, definitely.” He helps you climb back onto the bed before following suit, pressing his chest to your back, enveloping you in his warmth.

“You know, if I had you around in the wintertime, I’d save a lot on my heating bill,” you point out. 

“Go to sleep, silly,” Kai laughs, nuzzling his head into the nook above your shoulder. 

“Fine. Goodnight,” you yawn, your eyelids feeling heavier by the second.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he whispers, although you’re already sound asleep, your soft snores filling the room.

—————-

When you wake up, Kai is gone. He’s left a note on the bedside table that reads: Went to get breakfast. Be back soon :-)

You stumble into the living room, rubbing your eyes as sunlight streams through the balcony doors. Yeonjun sits at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal and watching footage from the group’s latest dance rehearsal.

“Be honest, did you and Huening fuck last night?”

“Good morning to you, too.”

“Come on, Y/N. I heard some suspicious shit when I went to the kitchen to grab water and unless he’s doing some magical switcharoo, you’ve been the only girl around for the last few months.”

“Is this some weird cross examination? Are you going to compare my story to his?” You try not to smile at the notion that Kai has stopped seeing other girls, but it makes you giddy.

“I wish. He wouldn’t tell me anything,” Yeonjun huffs.

“Well, if you must know, we made out for a few minutes. I panicked. He panicked. We both agreed to never do it again. End of story.”

“That’s no fun.”

“It’s not, but it prevents us from doing something we might regret and breaking up the entire friend group.”

“Do you like him like that?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”

“It kind of does, Y/N. I’m pretty sure that boy is head over heels in love with you.”

The thought of Huening Kai being in love with you stops you dead in your tracks. Your Kai, secretly pining for your affection? You decide that it’s nothing more than a fantasy.

“That’s impossible,” you shrug. “It was just a moment of weakness between two friends. Nothing more, okay?”

Before you can discuss this any further, Kai is walking through the front door, coffee and pastries in hand.

“Y/N, you’re awake! I was scared I’d have to get you out of bed myself. Yeonjun was warning me how grumpy you are in the mornings.”

“She’s a monster,” Yeonjun says. You flick him on the side of the head. “Ouchie.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he giggles, unpacking enough doughnuts to feed an army. “I didn’t know which one you wanted, Y/N, so I just tried to pick ones I thought you’d like.” 

“I love honeydew, so you picked well,” you say, taking a bite of one with bright green filling. “Mmm! Where’d you get these?”

“Old Ferry Donut. It’s across town, but totally worth the trip. I go with my sisters all the time. You should come with us next time.”

“Ooh, introducing Y/N to the family. It’s getting serious,” Yeonjun teases. Kai shoots him a dirty look. He takes the hint, grabbing a couple of doughnuts on the way back to his bedroom.

“He can be such a dick sometimes,” Kai sighs.

“Yes, but he’s our dick,” you insist, trying not to let him ruin the moment.

“I suppose that’s true,” he laughs. It always makes you feel good about yourself whenever you manage to cheer him up. Usually, that’s his job with you. “I’d really like for Lea and Hiyyih to meet you, though. I think you’d all get along super well.”

“Then let’s set something up. I’m free all day,��� you say, your mouth full of food.

“Really, Y/N?” Kai asks. You nod in agreement and his eyes light up at your enthusiasm. “This is awesome! I’ll text them right now!”

Maybe, just maybe, he really is in love with you.

—————-

Taglist: @orangesodafoam @deezbutz28  @ur-mother-realnotclickbait @internet-folks @darlingz99 @foxyjun @stardustmooncakes @giaalorine @niningtori @goquokka @csbenthusiast @moarmyjkhk @lizdevorak @sooberryworld @lonelybutterflytae @midnight-mochii @theresawtf @nowadays56 @jjklvr9 @baekberrie @philijack @lixpixstix @reiheis

P.S.: Please shoot me an ask or a reply if you’d like to be added to (or removed from) the taglist! Also, I struggle to keep up with different lists for individual members, but if you really don’t want to be tagged on all of my works, just let me know and I will do my best to keep things separate <3

#hueningkai x reader #hueningkai #huening txt #txt #tomorrow x together #txt imagines #txt fic #txt hyuka #hyuka x reader #txt x reader #txt fluff #txt angst #hueningkai fluff #hueningkai angst #hueningkai imagines #hueningkai smut

[rose022]

i have 13 tumblr blogs. someone stop me.

the autism takes over and i make a new account for my sillies. and then the depression takes over and i struggle to keep posting on it

#rose rambles #if you check the list in my pinned and count it like hey this isn't 13 #im not explaining

[toomanyfandomsimfanvergent]

Hey can you do a billy Hargrove x reader imagine billy is best friends with readers older brother and billy and reader have a secret relationship and the brother suspects he has a gf but doesn’t know it’s his baby sister and he finds out somehow and can you have like a 2 year age gap reader is 18 btw thank you 🖤❤️

Ofc love! Reqs are still open!

Billy Hargrove x Reader

Billy knew your brother would kill the both of you if he found out his 'baby' sister was dating his best friend.

Billy had grown up and Neil had gone to jail. And you had to say, older Billy was fucking hot. The age difference was only two years. And you weren't a minor..

Your brother would be super mad. You couldn't even imagine how to tell him. He was pretty easy going, but still fairly protective of you.

"Tell me her name," Andrew begs as he takes a slice of pizza. He knew billy had a girlfriend. There was no doubt.

Billy had been extra happy. His usual glare was replaced by a small smile. It was tight lipped, but it still counted.

"There isn't a girl," Billy replied and also takes a slice. He couldn't tell him.

"Are you gay?" Andrew asks and Billy states at him in shock and shakes his head.

You walk down the stairs to take a piece of pizza and Andrew notices the way Billy's smile seems to get slightly bigger.

Billy quickly hides his happiness as you disappear. Andrew was slightly suspicious of you two now. Billy could easily just have a crush. Yeah, that was a good explanation.

"You have been acting weird around my sister,_ Andrew says to see if it causes a reaction. Billy's eyes go wide and you would think you caught him doing something naughty.

"I, it was her idea," billy blurts and shoves a bite of pizza in his mouth.

Your brother just sighs and yells for you to come down stairs. You groan and lug yourself downstairs.

You are confused by Andrews big ass smirk and Billy's blush. Something not so great had happened. Fuck.

"How are the lovebirds?" Andrew asks and you feel your cheeks grow warm. Andrew was enjoying this way to much.

"You're not mad?" You and with some form of surprise. Andrew had almost killed any guy who even looked at you. And now he was fine with you dating his best friend.

"You are old enough to make your own decisions," Andrew replies. Something was wrong. You don't question it and walk back upstairs.

It was then you notice your favorite lipstick. The one that you absolutely loved, it never moved from the spot on your dresser.

"Andrew, what the fuck did you do with my lipstick?" You demand and he shrugs.

"I may have accidentally broke it," he says and runs to his room. How the duck do you break a lipstick without even opening it?

You didn't want to know.

----------------------------------------------------------

Requests are open! Check my pinned post for the full list of people and fandoms I write for!

Please reblog if you liked it!

#billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x you

[itjazzbicch]

The Man in The Beast

Pairing:  Brock Lesnar x Fem Reader 

Summary: The reader has managed Roman Reigns since he returned and became the champion in WWE, annoyed with Brock Lesnar challenging him again, she lets things take their own course, but is surprised when Roman uses her to save himself during a physical altercation with Brock, learning that Brock isn't a beast when it comes to her…

Warnings: Accidental Male x Female wrestling interaction, swearing

Word Count: 1.3k 

Tag List: @demonqueen29 @peachy-satan00 @new-zealand-chic  @crowleysqueenofhell @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @thatpanpal @damnnhausen @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @linziland13 @xxx-jazz-xxx @writtingrose @cuzimacomedian @april-jeanette-wagner @starwithaheart @seeingstarks 

I DO NOT OWN THIS GIF:   

Contract signings almost always ended the same, especially for Roman. There was always a fight bound to break out and with his opponent being Brock? Good thing I didn't wear heels tonight.

Two years I've been managing Roman, known him longer and it was a bore truly sitting through this contract signing because Brock and Roman have beaten the living crap out of each other so many times that I've lost count.

"A hog is going to get slaughtered," Roman signed the contract last and it didn't even click in my mind that the Uso's were in position, a smile growing on Roman's face when he sat up straight, "It's not going to be me and why wait till Summerslam?"

Brock was called a beast for a reason, even with Jimmy and Jey on top of him, he was throwing them around like rag dolls. Meanwhile, Roman was trying to rush me out of the ring, but there was too much going on. The table was in our way, the announcer getting out at the same time and Brock was on it, ready to go for Roman.

I was just about to lean down to get out when suddenly I was up straight, Brock's massive arm ready to clothesline Roman out of the ring, but instead, Roman moved out of the way, pulling me right into Brock's clothesline.

Now, this wasn't my first rodeo in wrestling, but this was Brock Lesnar. He gave a clothesline from hell, a whole new meaning, sending me flying out of the ring, not only cracking my head on the apron but smacking the ground hard.

I wasn't sure if I hit my head that hard or if it was truly that silent, but you could hear a pin drop in the arena when it happened.

"Oh my god," I was able to hear Pat McAfee on commentary, in utter shock like everyone else, "Roman Reigns just used Y/N to avoid Brock Lesnar! Someone check on her!"

Holding the back of my head, I looked to see what was going on because I could hear a lot of running in the ring. It was hard to look with the pounding headache that I had and it brought me to tears to see Roman running from Brock and completely forgetting about me.

I've seen Brock in a fury before, but this was different. Frozen in place, I never thought I'd see a moment like this. The first person who came to check on me was Brock himself.

"Y/N," He was so red from being angry and was still truly concerned and explaining, "I did not mean to do that."

"That fucker pulled me," I whispered and retraced my steps, remembering the feeling of Roman pulling me. He easily could've avoided that or just pushed me out of the way, but he pulled me.

"I'm sure you already knew, but I'm murdering his ass on Sunday," He was still heaving from anger, showing a side of him that I don't think anyone has ever seen while tending to me, checking my head because we all saw how I cracked my head.

"I'm fine," I tried to turn my head and the pain pounded in me like a drum, closing my eyes tight and groaning, hating that he was right, but hearing a sweetness in his voice:

"I was trying to take his head off and I know how hard I hit. This is my fault, just let me help you. You see that your 'family' isn't trying to."

"You sure do hit hard," I whined, trying not to cry, not at the pain, but the truth he spoke, turning towards him when he pulled me to his chest, scooping me up.

"Hey, I got her," Looking, Brock was talking to medical personnel and gosh, he was so big, still a good length above me in even his arms.

It was hard to process how comfortable I was in his arms and for someone he called a beast, he was very gentle and made sure my head wasn't moving too much while heading back, keeping it placed and snug against his firm chest.

The human body is very complex and as I expected, the first thing they did was make sure that I didn't have a concussion and he wasn't showing it, but I imagined Brock felt guilty about what happened because he didn't leave my side till we knew that I was okay, only took a rough bump. 

"First," Brock began once the staff left, letting us have a moment, "Again, I'm sorry about-"

"It's okay," I spoke softly, meeting his gaze, "It was an accident and we're wrestlers. I know there's danger regardless of what I'm doing."

"It may have been an accident on my end," He never looked so serious, trying to get a point across to me, "Roman used you to avoid taking a hit and that was no accident."

I just sat there silent because he was right. It was just so hard to believe because Roman has never done such a thing to me, just listening as he continued:

"He knows that this match at Summerslam isn't going to be like our other matches. I meant it when I said that I'm going to slaughter him. And him using you like that shows that he's a bitch and now, I lost respect for him as a man."

Why did he have to be right, and brutally honest at that? I was going to put my head down, try to ignore it, but he caught my attention by sitting his hat next to me, breathing:

"Excuse me. I shouldn't swear and all that around a lady."

"Must not know me," I joked softly, wanting to ease up the seriousness just for it to grow, heart racing with his huge frame in front of me, looking down into my eyes.

His blue eyes were easy to rest on this time and I did take his words in and thought about it deeply:

"Now, I can't tell you what to do, but I think it's best for you to part ways with Roman. It goes to show that he's a coward, doing that when all you've ever done is be good to him."

"I know," Tears started to form in my eyes, one running down my cheek, and for the first time today, there was a smile on my face, his hand actually nice and soft, warm thumb wiping that tear away:

"But I will give you credit. You took that clothesline like a champ."

"I'm no ordinary lady," I smiled up at him softly, appreciating his kindness, and this time, my heart was pounding, eyes closing softly at his kiss on my forehead:

"I like that about you."

Was all of this really making me feel better? That little kiss was like medicine, the headache I had eased up and his words helped too by making me giggle:

"Took that better than any guy I've wrestled. But you take care of your precious self, alright?"

"I will," I breathed in, processing another kiss on my head, this one having a harder press, but was still tender, even hugging him back when he hugged, rubbing my back:

"And just know, I'm not your enemy. You ever need me?"

God, the charm he had was mind-blowing, standing back up and fixing his cowboy hat, winking down at me:

"Just come and get me, darling."

"I'll keep that in mind," I whispered, feeling stuck in a place; Brock or Roman.

At that moment, Brock's side was feeling a whole lot better than Roman's ever was, his last kiss on the top of my head, knowing that Jimmy, Jey, and Roman would be on their way, made it so hard to watch him walk out of the door. 

#wrestling #wrestling imagine #wrestling fic #wrestling fanfic #wwe #wwe imagine #wwe fic #wwe fanfic #Brock Lesnar #Brock Lesnar x reader #Brock Lesnar imagine #Brock Lesnar fic #Brock Lesnar fanfic

[ssmtskw]

Hello and welcome!

Replacing my pinned with a list of the stuff I've written for anyone checking my account out. Heh. Everything is sorted by fandom, and then word count! (And if there's something I should add to the tagging, please feel free to send me a message about it so I can make the edits.) Enjoy... hopefully!

RWRB

some part of me came alive - 10,979 words [college-ish AU, 5+1]

"Bye David." David's head snaps back to Alex's direction, eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly you'd think it wasn't even there. Alex, having just removed his glasses again as he yawns once more, doesn't see it. David takes a couple seconds before slightly shaking his head, like he's just imagining something and is now actively wiping the thought away. He opens the door before he responds. "Bye Alex."

(Or: The five times Alex unintentionally calls Henry by his dog’s name, and the one time he does it on purpose.)

Francesca - 10,189 words [graphic depictions and references of violence/abuse/injuries]

Once, in a much worse place before all of this; Alex had worked for someone with one side of his office overflowing with books. He'd read all sorts of things there: Anatomy, selected works in philosophy, Oliver Twist, war hero accounts, law. Anything he could get a hold of in the dark, really. Among those books were a bible. There's a passage there that stuck— something he'd only read past but had barraged into the walls of Alex's mind three years ago, Book of Jeremiah, chapter 17, verse 9: The heart is more deceitful than anything else and is desperate. Who can know it?

Love Songs in the Key of Liam - 8,152 words [Liam POV/centric, 5+1]

It's fucked. He's fucked — Liam, that is. There was no way this was going to work. Ever. What's the next worst thing to growing up closeted in a typically close-minded neighbourhood? Probably developing a crush on your best friend who lives in said neighbourhood. (Or: The five times love songs reminded Liam of his now estranged best friend, and the one time it reminded him of someone else.)

Terrible Things - 4,038 words [Hanahaki AU, hurt/no comfort]

"How long?" That, he can answer. "A year or so." He croaks out, not really wanting to strain himself any further.

water in my hands - 3,521 words [sickfic(?), has references to illness, hurt/no comfort]

It takes Alex a good amount of time to realise; sometimes love just isn't enough to keep the world going, even if he desperately wanted it to.

no question (he'll hold your heart if you let him) - 2,837 words [June POV/outsider POV, post-canon]

June doesn't think much about it at first, putting the box along the pile, but she belatedly realises what it is and gets an idea. A satisfied grin makes its way onto her lips when she finally finds it, an edition of Astrotalk that detailed star sign compatibilities. June doesn't open the magazine all the way to the Libra section, stopping short at someone else's instead. (Or: June finds a box that contained one of her teenage fixations and goes through it for old time's sake.)

Smoke Slow - 2,026 words [shotgun kissing oneshot basically]

“Hey.” Alex says, just for the sake of saying something, the silence between them wasn’t stifling but he didn’t want to risk their interaction coming to an end just because he’s not engaging enough. Henry gives him a sideways glance. “Teach me how to do that.”

“Do what?”

“That. The shotgun.” For a moment, Alex briefly considers how idiotic that probably sounded to Henry. It wasn’t a hard task to mimic, but Alex had long thrown out his composure out the fences of Pez’s house when Henry put the goddamn stick into his mouth. 

i'll be happy (just to have known you) - 1,855 words [hurt/no comfort]

Henry resigns himself to the reality that Alex—albeit distant and unattainable—still managed to break through his dismal world and grant him a light he never imagined was still possible to exist. This was enough. This was more than he'd ever expected for himself. It was the universe's way of extending an olive branch in response to the cards he'd been dealt with. He'd be stupid not to take it.

dreamy little you - 1,666 words [crack-ish AU, post-canon]

"Of course, love, but would you love yourself if you were a worm?" This visibly stumps Alex. If the way his mouth just opened for a rebuttal and coming up empty is anything to go by.

only got a hundred - currently at 4,008 words

An ongoing collection of 100-word drabbles written according to the Brownstone server's prompts.

Haikyuu

Ceilings (he thinks it's not real, it is) - 6,009 words [light angst and pining with a happy? ending]

“Yo, you sleepy?” Takahiro meant to say that no, he isn't. That Issei looks stupid with his hair messed up like that. That he should be asking Issei that, with the bags under his eyes speaking for themselves. Instead, what comes out is, “I miss you.” It would be so easy to take the opportunity now. But still, Takahiro is terrified of ruining things. Or: Takahiro has graduation blues, and Issei makes him feel better, but things don't just end there.

Bloom - 1,444 words [two-dialogue challenge oneshot, retrospective? angst/no comfort]

Matsukawa Issei is not much of a sentimental person, save for special occasions where he has no choice but to reminisce.

Cruel (what your mind can do for no reason) - 1,012 words [light angst/comfort, implications of dissociation]

Issei struggles through a bad mental health night, Takahiro breezes him through the tail end of it.

Shameless (US)

big guns out, shoot now - 3,257 words [first kiss oneshot]

It's kind of out of character for Ian, really, he's always careful about not blurting out or doing shit that tapped into his feelings on the brunette, around the very subject of his affections. Has been, in fact, for the last two years and counting. Not that it got any easier to maintain, there are always slip ups (Exhibit A: right here, right now), but that's solely his problem.

On the Off Chance - 5,780 words [soulmate AU, ongoing]

To say Ian was relieved when he hears Mickey confirm how he did not, in fact, get his soulmate mark just a couple days after coming of age would be a huge understatement. (Or: Soulmate marks only show up when the younger of the pair turns nineteen– which isn’t uncommon, to say the least.)

#fics #ao3 #rwrb #rwrb fanfic #firstprince #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfic #shameless (us) #shameless (us) fanfic #matsuhana #gallavich

[beanswrites]

"Been Alone For Far Too Long" Asra x Julian, from "The Arcana"

Hey everyone!

Here's the fic that was supposed to come out tomorrow, but I simply couldn't wait until then 😅. This is a request I got on AO3, and my first fic with a ship!

Honestly, I didn't really like Asra x Julian before, but it kind of grew onto me! And I possibly got a little too much into it and went overboard-

But enjoy! I hope you like it!

Requests are open! Check out my rules for requesting (pinned post) before placing your request, or pick something from my prompts list!!

Also available on AO3!!!

masterlist | rules for requesting | prompts list

Word count: 2421 words

Trope: comfort, slight angst, fluff

Pairing: Asra Alnazar x Julian Devorak

AU: none

Warnings: none

The artwork here isn't mine, and it doesn't belong to me. It belongs to the wonderful artist @knight-engale. Please check them out, they are awesome and have lots of The Arcana fanart!

It was already way past midnight. The darkness of the night spread across Vesuvia long ago. People were returning to their beds, the alley cats have all stopped meowing, and the street lights were dimmed to let people sleep peacefully. The land's greatest magician was sweeping the floor of their shop, closing up for the day.

Humming a tune of some unknown song, Asra polished the last parts of the wooden flooring. Just as they were about to lock the door and head to bed, the doorbell echoed through the shop.

'Who would be here this late?' They thought, slightly annoyed at the fact that somebody interrupted their peace and quiet. 

Leaving the mop to rest in the nearby corner, the white-haired magician started to unlock the shop's door. 

Their mouth went wide at the surprise visitor.

"Heeeeeyy, Asraaa!! *Hic* What're you doinngg? *Hic*".

Julian. Why was he here? He didn't like coming over. Asra didn't like him coming over. 

The magician studied the tall doctor in front of them, analyzing his every move. The redhead barely stood on his feet, having to hold himself up on the doorframe. His legs shook as he stood, threatening to make him fall. His usually pale face was flushed red, and his gray eyes were bloodshot red.

Drunk. Julian was drunk. 

It didn't take long for Asra to figure that out. They knew by the way he dragged out everything he said and the small, occasional hiccups in between his words. Also, he reeked of alcohol. The magician hated that smell. 

"What are you doing here, doctor Devorak?"

They asked in a serious tone. Julian mumbled something in reply, but Asra couldn't hear him. 

"Seriously, Julian. Why are you here?"

He hiccupped a few times again, his head almost falling from the exhaustion. 

"Didn't have anywhere else to go.." He admitted shamefully, losing his gaze somewhere in the distance. 

Asra let out a long, tired sigh. They didn't have the energy to deal with this now. They didn't have the energy to deal with him right now. 

But Asra was a good person. They always were. And good people take care of their friends when they are drunk, even when they are exhausted. 

The white-haired magician didn't know if they considered Julian a friend. He was their ex-boyfriend after all, plus their relationship ended on quite a sour note. So, something between an ex-lover the magician despised and a good friend who always helped them?

They, too, looked away, thinking about what to do. Julian did treat one of their injuries when they burned themselves on a potion they were making a couple of weeks ago. Yeah, Asra owed him for that one. 

"Oh, fine, you can stay here... But just for tonight, Ilya! I'm serious. I have to run the shop tomorrow, as well as get some ingredients from the marketplace! You better be out before I leave!"

The redhead doctor threw himself on his shorter friend, trying to hug them.

"Thank youuu!" 

Asra nearly fell backward from the weight Julian put on him.

"Okay, okay, it's fine. I'll prepare you a room, wait for me here. And don't touch anything"

The magician was setting up MC's former room, making sure to put clean bed sheets on. They thought about how it would be much easier with MC here. The two of them could take care of Julian more easily than only Asra could. But, since MC is now in a very happy relationship with Muriel, she lives with him in his home. And Asra is left to take care of his ex alone. 

"Hey, I prepared your room. But before you go to sleep, drink this"

They reached for one of the highest kitchen shelves, getting a mysterious bottle of some potion from it. 

"You're not poisoning me, righhhtt?" The redhead drunkenly asked as he looked at the suspicious substance.

"No, of course not. If I wanted to do that, you'd be long gone, trust me"

They smirked, pouring him a big glass of water to easily get over his hangover. Dr. Devorak gulped down the purple potion, feeling quite better.

"Hey, uh, what did you give me?"

Asra didn't even turn around to look at him while pouring his water. 

"Just a potion to help you speak better since I didn't understand a word you just said while mumbling."

Julian cocked an eyebrow at them, smirking.

"Oh? Are you saying that you love hearing me talk, Alnazar?"

They rolled their eyes at him, handing him the water.

"Gods, I should have given you a 'shut up' potion instead."

When he gulped down his water, Asra directed Julian to the bedroom he prepared. He sat on the bed, not knowing what to say.

"Why do you do that to yourself? You know how bad you react to alcohol! Why would you make yourself sick, doctor?"

Ilya didn't raise his eyes from the floor, ashamed because he knew that Asra was right. He was ruining himself with the amount of alcohol he drank, slowly becoming an alcoholic. He didn't want that. He never wanted that. 

"It... It helps me with my loneliness, Asra" 

The magician shivered from the use of their name. Julian never called them that. 

"I just... I forget about everything, even my problems, when I drink. I know it's not what I should do but I can't help-"

He was cut off by the unexpected hug he got. Asra held onto him tight, bringing his face to their chest. The poor redhead, who's been touched-starved all his life, nuzzled his face in the hug, enjoying the way the magician's hands soothed his back. To return the favor, Ilya hugged them back, placing his arms around their waist. 

When the hug was done, Julian tried to hold on for a bit longer, nesting his head in Asra's chest. Their fingers combed once through his fiery red locks and tapped his shoulder. 

"C'mon, let's get you out of that shirt. Not only do you seriously stink, but it's also stained everywhere from the drinks you had"

He complied immediately, raising both of his long skinny arms to help Asra get the dirty shirt off of him. While raising the white material, Asra accidentally brushed their fingers on Julian's pale ribs, making him let out a shaky laugh. 

"Ticklish, 'eh?"

Asra teased, tossing the shirt on their laundry pile. They walked to the kitchen once more, pouring another glass of water and putting it on the bedside table. 

"Here, in case you get thirsty"

Julian chuckled, getting under the soft duvet on the bed. The magician sat on the corner of the bed, feeling the tension between them. 

"Asra?" Dr. Devorak broke the silence.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For... For everything." 

They simply nodded, acknowledging his thanks. 

"Get some good rest. If I don't leave by dawn tomorrow, I'll leave you some breakfast"

The white-haired magician stood up and walked away. Right when they were about to walk through the door, Julian once again called out their name, this time more shakenly and scared than before.

"Asra?"

They chuckled, looking over their shoulder at the pale man.

"Heh, yeah, Ilya?"

"Don't leave me"

At first, Asra thought that he was joking, but the look on his face was enough to tell them that he was serious. They knew why Julian would ask that - they've also felt the crushing loneliness recently.

A year passed from the whole Lucio fiasco, and everything calmed. Nadia found love again and started dating her best friend Portia, and they are now in a happy relationship. MC and Muriel warmed up to each other during the war, so much that they also started dating. They've even moved in together! 

But Asra and Julian? They are currently the only ones who are single. With their friends being busy with their partners, and them having quite an uncomfortable relationship, both of them were very alone. 

Hesitantly, Asra walked back to the bed.

"Uh, yeah... Yeah, yes, okay. I won't leave you"

Julian smiled, drunk and exhausted, opening the blanket for his friend. As Asra got under the covers, Julian didn't stop smiling at him.

"What is it? Do I have something on my face?" They joked at the way the doctor was looking at them.

Letting out a shaky laugh, still obviously drunk, Julian reached out his hand to caress Asra's cheek.

"You're so beautiful.."

 The magician's cheeks flamed up, as Julian rolled to the other side and immediately started snoring.

Hours after Julian fell asleep, Asra was still very awake. What was that? Why did he say that? Even though they understood that drunk people say a lot of nonsense, that sentence still didn't sit right with them. Drunk people's words are sober people's thoughts. That made Asra feel uneasy, almost scared.

Julian used to tell them those kinds of things when they were together. Did he still have those types of feelings? Do they still have those types of feelings?

Everything was messed up and so... So confusing! Why was Asra feeling like this?! What was making them question their feelings about the tall redhead?

Finally deciding not to let those thoughts disturb their sleep, Asra closed his eyelids, floating into the land of dreams.

What woke them up were the first rays of sunshine that were slipping through the curtains of the bedroom window. As their eyes fluttered open, a mortified look crossed their face as they realized in which position they were in. Julian's hand was dropped around their lower waist, his face buried in their chest. Asra's hand was in the taller man's hair, holding him close. Were they.. cuddling?

The white-haired magician stood up quickly, terrified by their actions. Julian, who even while being asleep noticed the shift on the bed, mumbled: "Mmmhphh... Asra..?" And reached out with his hand to find the smaller figure which was supposed to be laying next to him.

Still frozen in shock, Asra quietly left the room, going to their kitchen. To try to keep their mind off of the elephant in the room, they started to make breakfast for themselves and their unexpected guest. As they brewed some tea to help them calm down, two thoughts circled in their mind.

'Either I miss Julian.. Or I've been alone for so long that I want to go back to my ex..'

Just as they were about to put the jams on the table, a tall, shirtless figure appeared in the doorway. 

"Hey, 'morning. I thought you already had gone into the market... Oh, did you stay because of me, huh?" Julian smirked, leaning his elbow on the wall but clumsily slipping. That made Asra laugh, bringing the leftover pumpkin bread to the table.

"Pfft, yeah, you wish"

The redhead sat down, making his toast. They ate in silence for a couple of moments, before Asra spoke:

"You know, you look much better than yesterday"

Julian only weakly smiled, his eyes never leaving his plate.

"Yeah, uh, I feel much better. Thanks for all of that, it really helped"

The white-haired magician hummed, also not daring to look the doctor in the eye.

"Hey, uh... I know this is weird, but I had this very confusing dream last night and I don't know if it was real or not"

Asra titled his head, intrigued.

"Well, I'm kinda good with dreams... What happened?"

Julian scratched the back of his head, his pale cheeks getting a pink tint.

"I, uhh... I dreamt that you and I... That we.. Look, I dreamt that we kinda cuddled last night. I know that's absurd and all since we're not together anymore but it just felt so real that-"

"We did"

Asra cut him off, taking a big sip of their tea. Julian's face got ten shades redder, his words failing him.

"I, uh... We did? What do you mean "we did"? How did we cuddle?"

A soft, almost red blush arose in Asra's cheeks as well.

"Well, your drunk ass asked me if I could stay with you, and I obliged. Next thing I know, I'm awake with you buried in my chest"

Suddenly, Julian's face became pale. At least, paler than usual, kind of like he was panicking.

"So I told you that you're beautiful?"

His friend choked on his bite, stunned and speechless. 

"Uhh, yeah, you did.. Well, I'm glad that you think that way about me, Dr. Devorak~"

They stood up to wash the dishes, but his voice stopped them.

"Thank you for the hug, too. I knew that one wasn't a dream. Your hugs just feel... different"

"Want another one?" Asra smiled, opening his arms. Hesitantly, Julian obliged and let them hug him. He thought that it was gonna be a quick hug, a friendly one, to just show Asra how thankful he was. But, oh was he wrong. His touched-starved self, much like the day before, melted into their arms and hugged Asra tight. They've just held each other without a word for more than 10 minutes.

When they pulled away, Julian's hands remained on Asra's waist. They let out a sigh, cupping his cheek with the palm of their hand.

"I have to go now, but I don't wanna leave you.."

Julian's face grew serious as he answered:

"Then don't leave? We could stay here and do something else or-"

"You don't understand!" Asra hissed, "I don't want to leave you again. I don't ever want to leave you again"

"Oh."

Again with the blush. Gosh, it was so easy to fluster Julian!

"I don't want you to leave too. I mean, I'm not going to leave anyways but yes, please stay. I've been so lonely without you.."

Asra chuckled.

"Heh, then I guess we've both been alone for far too long, right?"

Julian silently agreed, looking deep into their eyes with the biggest smile on his face. Asra couldn't take it anymore, and brought their lips to the doctor's, kissing him. It felt weird after so many years, but a good weird. A comfortable weird. 

The tall man melted into the kiss, kissing his ex-lover like he wanted to do it again for all the years they've been apart. Once they pulled away, Asra's hand remained on his cheek. 

"Ilya, I don't want you to be so lonely."

He smiled, looking at them lovingly.

"I won't be lonely as long as you are here.."

Pressing another soft peck to his sharp cheekbones, they exclaimed:

"Then, I'll stay forever."

#the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana visual novel #the arcana asra #the arcana julian #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #asra #asra alnazar #asra the magician #julian #julian devorak #asra x julian #jasra #asra alnazar x julian devorak #julian x asra #julian devorak x asra alnazar #the arcana comfort #the arcana angst #the arcana fluff #asra x julian fluff #asra x julian comfort #asra x julian angst #i love them soo muchhh #heck yes heck yes heck yes #post the arcana #read on ao3

[bullet-prooflove]

Donna’s Wednesday Radio Show Prompt List #20

It’s that time again! The Wednesday Radio prompt list!

Please check the updated character list on my pinned post to see who I am writing for before submitting a prompt!

Also do not forget to put the entire prompt into your ask!

I need you now, do you think you can cope?

Show me all your tatt's, not just the ones that's on your hands

Let's go all the way tonight No regrets, just love

Midnight You come and pick me up, no headlights

Say my name and his in the same breath

Take the gun, and count to three

I could tell when you locked the door just what was going on

Take a breath, take it deep Calm yourself, he says to me

it's been a while since I have even heard from you

You can leave open windows, don't care who see me out my clothes,

I don't think you're right for him (Hey) think of what it might've been

He says, close your eyes, sometimes it helps

I need some place simple where we could live

We drove to Cali and got drunk on the beach

You hit me once, I hit you back

I said I don't care what you think

Said I'm terrified but I'm not leaving

After we fuck, I'ma wanna cuddle

You make me Feel like I'm livin' a teenage dream

I don't wanna play no more, leave everything on the floor

I know that I must pass this test So just pull the trigger 

You've figured me out, that I'm lost and I'm hopeless

Can we take this off and get naked?

A kiss with a fist is better than none

I'm bleeding and broken though I've never spoken

Let you put your hands on me in my skin-tight jeans

Let's run away and don't ever look back

Boy, you deserve a show

Can you tell me another lie?

You've grown colder now, torn apart, angry, turned around

Free love on the streets but In the alley it ain't that cheap,

Lights are off, he's taking off his coat,

I just like it when you grab my hips

Heels on, waiting at your door

So are you gonna stand there or are you gonna help me out?

I say, "I heard, oh, that you've been out and about with some other girl

So take a chance and don't ever look back

 I wanna dance in the open breeze

I know you get me, so I let my walls come down,

I need another line

Broke down, thought that I would drown

He can't keep his wild eyes on the road

So come back when I'm good to go I got drinks to drink, and men to hold

We could take it to the kitchen I'll be on the island, come and eat

And now I'm crying, isn't that what you want?

First impression of you is you really like to party

You came to take me away So close I was to heaven's gates

You think I'm pretty without any makeup on

Have I seen you somewhere baby? 

I should just tell you to leave

I belong with you, you belong with me You're my sweetheart

As my life flashes before my eyes I'm wondering will I, ever see another sunrise?

#nero padilla #marcus alvarez #neron creeper vargas #michael riz ariza #crockett marcel #jimmy lanik #connor rhodes #will halstead #chibs telford #tig trager #herman kozik #bishop losa #nestor oceteva #angel reyes #ez reyes #les packer #donovan rocker #rodrigo sanchez #joe velasco #terry bruno #mike duarte #nick amaro #ivan hernandez #frank castle

[redfoxrunt]

So, hey babes. The like, two of you who probably aren't reading the blog anyway, and all of the hot singles in my area. Just feels more like... talking to the potential of someone here than on Dreamwidth, where the follower count is one account. This is gonna be crazy, but I'm fairly sure I already warned you (nonspecific) about that in the header or pinned post or whatnot; it's what you get, right?

Talking about my parents.

I'm in an insanely unique position, being the child that my parents lost. You don't really get perspective like that from most cases, and yet. I also have it on two levels, rather than just one; first I was the child that was estranged from them, stopped returning calls, etc., and then the child that died. I assume they were at my funeral, but maybe not. I honestly can't even tell if, under the circumstances, they would have been notified that I died. How much of it was in the news? How much information are you entitled to if you're not listed as a contact for the person who's dead? Like, the whole thing is a fucking mess, and obviously I wasn't there to witness any of it, so yeah.

It's not because they did a bad job with me (or D, for that matter.) We always got the best in life as far as they could provide, we were middle class and privileged in that our parents loved each other and loved us and practiced good parenting to the degree that two human beings can. Sometimes they were tired, sometimes they were pissed off, sometimes we tired them, but at the end of the day we were always loved, and that's not something you can take for granted in life. I guess that's part of the problem, though, like - as shitty and entitled as that sounds. Because after Danny died, it was like... the illusion shattered. I spent weeks back home after, because I couldn't exist in my own skin with what had happened and what I'd seen and what I couldn't understand or put into words or any of it, and the child part of me was like... when things are scary and don't make sense, you go home. Real home, not your flat where you're all alone and all the sounds from outside freak you out like you've never heard your neighbours exist before. And the reality check was when none of that helped. My parents didn't come to my bedroom (guest bedroom; they'd repurposed the house since we moved out, like normal people tend to do) for more than to let me know dinner's served or to ask me if I wanted to go out for a little while. And when I didn't, that was all. The realisation that that was all they could do, that no amount of me crying would have them bring my brother back, it killed something in me that I didn't even know I'd had before then. I realised that I can't go home because home isn't this magical safe space where everything will be alright, even though they'd taught me that as a kid. Home had always been the magical place where you go to make everything better, but after D's death, after the funeral, it felt just as fake as - you know? Like a staged play. Nothing in it was real anymore, everything I'd been taught was a lie, and the world is a shitty, horrible, fucked up place that doesn't care about you or your loss or your grief or your pleas. And your parents are just people. And I guess I hated them for it, because they'd lied to me that they were something omnipotent when all along they were just people, just like me, just as powerless and unable to change anything that had happened or would happen next or ever. Blowing on a bruise never did fuck all to heal it. It's all a fucking lie.

So, I don't know how much anybody else knows about what I did after that, I have a really skewed idea of how much of that is "known" and how much of it I just think should be known, but once I got back on my feet, I was vengeful as fuck and not thinking straight. Part of my revenge was to cut my parents off. Stop answering calls, one word text messages if I needed to reply to something, and when they did what I was clearly asking them to do which was leave me the fuck alone and stop trying to poke their noses into my life, I saw that as further proof that I was right to be angry at them for... failing me, or Danny, or something. For not being fucking wizards.

So that's child loss on child loss for them. I don't recall really thinking about it much at the time. I don't think I was thinking much in general, period, it's just - every time they'd contact me, I'd get this surge like heartburn but in my veins and get this urge to chuck my fucking phone at a wall or out the window. Like fuck off from my life, stop reminding me of everything that's wrong, stop trying to approach me like I'm being unreasonable, because what I feel and how I'm acting is the most reasonable thing in the world. "Tim you need help" just reinforces that there's no help to be had and I'm in this shit alone and other people just make it worse because when I look at them, I know they're the same as me. Nobody can do anything about anything. And it's the sense of powerlessness that I can't take, right? That feeling that we're all just lying to ourselves and each other about having control.

I don't have the energy or interest to go into the rest of that story. There isn't much to talk about in terms of my parents anyway, since I'd cut them off. But it's a sore subject to talk about, like most things, when we try to approach it with D here. When I'm not ignoring he exists to begin with because I just fucking cannot and what am I even supposed to do with any of this, it's still like we're mostly making small-talk about subjects that barely matter while maybe tapping the ice on shit we really need to be talking about with a thin stick, because that's all the ice can take. Diving into child memorial pages, child loss blogs, etc. was both accidental and the bravest and most direct thing we've done so far to address any of it. Felt good to do it together, and just not say a thing while at it. Just experience that side by side and know that he's feeling what I'm feeling and thinking what I'm thinking and that's enough for now. He's joked that maybe it's in the genes for us, the not being able to address things, not wanting to talk. He's better at it than I am, though. At least he tries. I don't know if I'm trying or if I'm just being led along like a blind ass, but either way, it's things we've got to get to if I ever want to feel... less like shit again, I guess. It's fucked trying to do this without a proper therapist but then again talking to a therapist didn't really work the first time around, and now we don't have one to go to. But yeah, reading through all of that was soothing in some sense, which is also fucked up. It's feelings that I haven't gotten to yet. Something about like, maybe I did matter a little after all. Maybe I and my life were beautiful to them. Maybe they saw me like that, too. I don't know. All I feel most days is a failure, or burden, or just not good enough for anybody. So... yeah. Guess that's pretty much all.

#brave boy blogging tonight in this house and tagging this as #tim stoker #in case literally anybody out there cares to read about this. #I'm just an imaginary guy from the void don't mind me in your tags. #grief #personal #explain? explain what? no I won't.

[softxsuki]

urgent request!! ok hi, i sent one urgent request with platonic dabi before and i hope it's okay for me to send another one. it helped me and thank you very much! can you write for platonic toga or shigaraki comforting a fem teen reader when the reader is having a panic attack about the things her mother did to her? they find her in room or smth like that maybe,sorry i can't really think rn. she just wants to be enough to someone and someone to show affection to her and they show her affection. i hope you have a nice and and thank you! 💕

Shigaraki Comforting Reader Through A Panic Attack

Pairing: Shigaraki x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: Descriptions of Panic attacks, just sad moods here

Genre: Angst, Comfort

Post-Type: Drabble

Word Count: 990

Summary: In which you mother does something to you which send you into a panic attack. Luckily, Shigaraki just happens to stop by your house and shows up in time to calm you down and comfort you.

[A/N: Hey anon, of course it's fine for you to send another urgent request. If anyone needs comfort, you can send in an urgent request at any time <3. I'm glad the other request helped you, hopefully this one can as well. I don't write for Shigaraki, for the sake of not knowing how to really portray him in my writing as he isn't my fav character (I'm sorry NJFEKA). However, I tried my best to write him here for you. I apologize in advance if he's completely out of character and horribly written. I REALLY DID MY BEST, I SWEAR. I also tried not to vent my own feelings in this bc I'm going through my own problems with my mom at the moments and I could write a whole essay on her rn... ANYWAY, I hope you enjoy and feel better soon <3.]

P.S: I won't be writing normal requests for Shigaraki. This was just a special case, so if anyone who sees this would like to request a normal request for me to write, please check out the list of characters I write for, which is on my navigation post, pinned on my page. Thank you :D

You were home alone in your room replaying the things your mother had done and said to you a few minutes earlier before she left the house. The negative thoughts spiraled in your head until you couldn’t take it anymore and began panicking. Your heart was hammering in your chest as a wave of sadness overtook you and tears began to fall on their own from your eyes.

You couldn’t stop them from falling, your breathing only increasing as you struggle to gasp for air. No matter how much air you try taking in, it felt like only a portion of it was actually reaching your lungs. You needed more, but nothing was working, causing you to panic further.

Luckily, your close friend Shigaraki, just happened to stop by, one of his random visits that he usually made to you. Not answering the door after a few knocks like you normally did though, he got worried and let himself in. Thankfully, your family wasn’t home, so he could walk around freely, as he wasn’t exactly someone your family liked you being friends with.

He hears your heavy breathing and sobs coming from your room and rushes in their direction. You’re knelt on the floor with your head in your palms, a hand grasping for your throat as you gasp desperately for air.

Panic strikes his face and he’s on the floor at your side in an instant, calling your name to get you to look at him.

“Y/N? What happened?” He asks in an attempt to get your attention, but you’re too distracted by your panic attack to even hear his voice.

“Hey,” he places a hand on your back and rubs small circles onto the area, “It’s okay. You’re okay. Let’s just calm down. Take deep breaths and focus on my voice. You’re fine.”

Finally, you do manage to hear him and focus on the sound of his voice rather than what you feel, following his instructions as you try to take deep shaky breaths, attempting to stop the tears from falling. He talks you through the whole thing until you’re able to breathe freely again, your tears now under control as you continue to take deep breaths.

“There we go. That’s better,” he says, his hand still comfortingly rubbing your back.

You look up at him, relieved that your emotions were finally stable enough to face him.

“Thanks,” you sigh in relief, truly grateful that he had been there at the right time for you.

“Now, tell me what’s going on. What got you so worked up?”

You lean up against your bed, still seated on the floor as you look up at your ceiling.

“Nothing new, just my mom. You know how it is. She took it too far this time though,” you explain, the scene replaying in your head at the mention of your mother.

“Ahh, I see,” he hums in understanding as he vaguely knew the not-so-great relationship you had with your mother.

“I just,” you pause for a moment trying to find the right words, “I wish I was enough for her. What’s wrong with me that she has to have such an issue with everything I do and say? Why can’t she be like a normal mother and hug me when I need it and tell me that she cares for me instead of treating me like this. To the point where my own emotions spiral out of control?”

Tears begin to pool at your eyes, threatening to spill once more. Shigaraki takes that as his sign to show you some affection that you were clearly in need of. He hesitantly wraps his arms around you in a firm hug, hoping that you were okay with it. He wasn’t exactly the hugging type, but he was willing to comfort you like this if you really needed it.

“You are enough. Actually, more than enough—at least for me you are. I’m sorry you have to deal with a mother who makes you think otherwise. I’d break you out of here if I could, but I know that would probably just cause more issues for you at home.”

You relax in his arms, almost melting into the much needed hug. You could feel how much he cared for you with every second that his arms remained wrapped around you.

You can’t even remember how you managed to score a friend like Shigaraki. He was a bit older than you, but somehow the both of you clicked and became friends easily--thankfully. He was someone you could confide in whenever you needed to. He had his own troubled past that he told you about, which was something the both of you could relate to together.

“Thanks,” you say again after a few more moments in his arms, finally pulling away.

You sigh once again, but this time in relief, happy that you were calm and starting to feel back to normal.

“Don’t worry about it. Just don’t let what your mother does or says, get to you. You’re amazing, and it’s a shame that she can’t see that.”

“It’s alright. As long as we remain friends, I think I’ll be okay. How is it that you always manage to cheer me up so quickly?”

“Just one of my charms I guess,” he laughs lightly as the atmosphere in the room lifts.

“Yeah, I guess,” you smile.

He spends a little longer with you, the both of you hanging out until you hear a car pull into your driveway. Your mother was home. He had bid you farewell before taking off out of your window. Since your family--specifically your mother--didn’t really like him, he didn’t want to make things worse for you by having her catch him there with you. But as he left, you felt a lot lighter, glad that at the end of the day, at least you had him there for you.

He’d always have your back.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN :D

Posted: 12/6/2021

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #lov x reader #shigaraki x reader #mha x female reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #bnha x fem!reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #lov x y/n #lov x you #shigaraki x female reader #shigaraki x you #shigaraki x y/n #mha angst #mha comfort #mha drabbles #bnha angst #bnha comfort #bnha drabble #shigaraki angst #shigaraki comfort #shigaraki drabble #mha fanfiction #shigaraki fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

[wifeboys]

Third Time’s the Charm // Wilmon

Summary: Wilhelm kisses Simon three times before he gets the hint.

Word Count: ~2600

A/N: A little in-universe fic to tie us over. Based on prompts from this prompt list *shamelessly plugs my prompts blog @deity-prompts *. Also I haven’t written fanfiction is a while so I’m a little rusty.

gif credits: @princewilhelm

Wilhelm kisses Simon three times before he gets the hint.

The first time is at Rosh's soccer final. The pair (and Ayub) had gone to every single game of the season, rain, or shine. They stood at the side lines. The night air gripped them through their puffy coats. Flood lights illuminate their breaths. Wilhelm and Simon pressed shoulders to 'help keep them warm'.

The game is intense. The ball is sent over and back again and again. Fouls are left and right. Fights even break out. The crowd hold their breath, each moment electric. Simon is so focused on the game that he forgets where he is. He forgets who he's with and who he is. All he can concentrate on is Rosh.

The whistle blows, once, twice, three times. Rosh punches the air with a victorious scream. The crowd erupts. Everyone rushes onto the pitch. They clutch each other into hugs, exchanging "congratulations!" and kisses on the cheek. Simon sprints to Rosh, grabbing her tightly. She slaps his back and yells something he can't hear. Ayub pushes him out of the way and hugs Rosh. Simon staggers back with a laugh. Wilhelm is in front of him. His eyes sparkle with happiness and Simon can't help but smile. Before he can hug him, Wilhelm places his hands on Simons cheeks and quickly kisses him. The kiss barely lasts two seconds, but time seems to freeze. Simon short-circuits.

Before he can process or kiss him back, Wilhelm is already hugging someone else and Ayub is grabbing Simon. "SHE DID IT! FUCKING YEAH!" The night moves on. Everyone goes out to celebrate, still full of energy until they part in the early hours. As Simon celebrates, he can't help but think about Wilhelm kissing him. Did he kiss him or did he imagine it? No, it definitely happened. He can't imagine the electricity pulsing through him. He can't imagine the rush and heat he felt.

But that doesn't mean Wilhelm wanted to kiss him. It was an intense game. Everyone was celebrating. It was probably just a "hey bro, we did it! let's celebrate!" kiss. Wilhelm would've kissed anyone, Simon just happened to be there.

That's what Wilhelm is acting like. He's hugging everyone he comes across. Simons not sure if that's because Wilhelm is a hugger or because he's buzzed on celebratory drinks. Either way, he's not treating Simon any different. He's still talking to him like they're regular bros who like regular sports and other regular things.

It was nothing, Simon decides.

• ❤︎ •

The second time is at Felice's birthday party. She spares no expense. The common room is decked with streamers, balloons, and stocked with alcohol. Everyone is wearing the most extravagant outfits they have. The birthday girl has braided her hair short as a boys, and wears a purple robe that reaches her heels. Simon wears a black, glittery blazer over his bare chest with waist high black trousers. The lack of shirt was probably a good idea, considering people keep bumping into him and spilling their drinks.

The music is practically deafening. You can't walk two steps without knocking shoulders with someone. Simon keeps to the back of the room, fiddling with the hem of his blazar as the party unfolds in front of him. Sara keeps him company, chatting his ear off about something he can't hear. The only thing he can focus on is a certain prince across the room.

Simon barely notices when Sara tugs at his sleeve. "Si! I'm going to find Felice. Don't just stand here for the whole night. Go talk to someone"

She disappears into the sea of drunk teenagers. There's no way Sara was telling him to go talk to Wilhelm specifically, but that's all Simon wants to do. Actually, he wants to skip the talking and pin Wilhelm against the wall.

But Simon can't do it. He's glued with his back against a wall as people make out around him. He can't mess things up with Wilhelm. He can't scare him off. He can't lose a great friend on the tiny chance he might get a boyfriend. Simon repeats this like a mantra to the beat of the music.

None of this stops him checking out Wilhelm, the crowd acting as a safety buffer. His simple yellow shirt is plain considering the occasion. He made up for it by covering his hair with glitter that has fallen onto his face and shoulders.

He watches as an already tipsy Wilhelm finishes his drink. He's surrounded by people (probably his friends). He suddenly cracks up at some joke they say. Glitter explodes into the air with the quick movement of his head. A shiny halo illuminates his face. God, he's beautiful when he laughs.

"Simon! Simon Simon Simon" Felice nearly falls on top of him. "I'm so glad you're here- and you look amazing"

"Thanks, so do you- and happy birthday" Simon has never been good at taking compliments.

"You're too kind. I'll admit, I can't get enough of my cape. Hey, you should try it on! Purple is definitely your colour"

"Oh no I couldn't-"

"Oh yes you could. Let's swap jackets. I promise I'll give it back"

Next thing Simon knows, Felice is slipping off her cloak-y thing to reveal a white blouse and black skirt. She takes Simon's jacket, even giving him a spin. "We look stunning" she says as Simon wraps her robe around him. It looks a bit weird on him, but it's soft and smells nice. Felice sips her drink, and frowns. "My cup is empty. Can I get you a drink?"

"Uh- sure"

Felice disappears into the crowd. Simon goes back to looking for Wilhelm, but he's nowhere to be seen. He scans the crowd carefully. Wow, there's a lot of people here. A lot of bodies. The air is thick. The music is too loud. The room is too small. Simon needs to get out.

He excuses his way towards the door, not stopping until he's breathing in the night air. He leans next to the door, careful to keep Felice's robe clean. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Simon can only handle parties for a short while before he needs a break.

He stares up at the sky. Deep breath in, deep breath out. The stars are like glitter. The moon shines brightly at him. Deep breath in. He can't find Wilhelm, but at least he can spot the Man In The Moon. Deep breath out.

He's grounded again. He knows he should go home soon, but he figures a bit longer inside wont hurt. He gets up to go inside and find Felice when the door swings open. A yellow shirt stumbles into the night, glitter sparkling in the moonlight.

Simon finally found Wilhelm- or, rather, Wilhelm found him.

Wilhelm finds his footing, looking around. He finally spots Simon by the door.

"There you are!" He exclaims. There I am?

If Simon moves fast enough, he can slip back inside before Wilhelm even notices him. He can grab Sara and pretend he never came to the party. Before he can put his plan into effect, Wilhelm is cupping his face again.

Wilhelm kisses him. Simon is quicker to react this time. He kisses back, his plan to escape already forgotten. Wilhelm pulls back for a moment to tilt his head to the side. Simon holds the back of his neck, running his fingers through his hair. Glitter falls around them.

Wilhelm's hands slip behind Simon's robe, pulling him closer. Simon shivers as his hands run up and down his back. He drowns in bliss, finally getting to kiss Wilhelm the way he always wanted to.

When Wilhelm finally pulls back, his eyes stay closed. "Oh" he sighs softly. "Oh . . . I'm about to throw up. Excuse me"

Without even looking at Simon, Wilhelm turns and staggers around the corner. Simon hears retching. His escape plan kicks in. He practically runs back into the party, nearly knocking people over as he finds Felice.

He finds her giggling with Sara, who's cheeks are blushes deep red. They swap their clothes back, re-completing Felice's outfit. She truly looks stunning, tonight more than ever. Up close, her hair is woven more intricately than he realised. It's as short as his but looks ten times better.

Oh God- with the short hair and purple cloak, he probably looks just like Felice. Especially to someone who's drunk. Wilhelm didn't mean to kiss him. He meant to kiss Felice. Now Simon feels like he's going to throw up.

• ❤︎ •

The third time is after Parents Day. Simon spent the days leading up to it avoiding Wilhelm. He probably doesn't remember the kiss at all but Simon wont chance it. He won't give Wilhelm the opportunity to reject him. This doesn’t stop him from looking at him for a little too long from across the room. This doesn’t stop Wilhelm looking back.

His ingenious “if I ignore him he can’t reject me” plan fails, however, when Wilhelm sits with his family as they eat. Simon can't take his eyes off him as he chats with Simon and Felice's family. Wilhelm combs his fingers through his hair, licks his lips, laughs along to jokes. Simon soaks up every minute of it.

Dinner plates empty. Belts are loosened. Waiters come around to collect dishes and Simon starts to panic. Wilhelm has been glancing at him again and again throughout the dinner. He's definitely going to corner Simon and let him down. Tell him to forget all about the kiss (if he even remembers it). Simon pulls out his phone.

Simon I need you to pick me up

Ayub Thought you were at the parents dinner Cant ur mom take u home?

Simon I'll explain later If you pick me up right now I'll be forever grateful

Ayub I'll be outside in ten You owe me one

Simon I love you more than life itself

Simon rests his phone on the table, slightly less panicked. As soon as people start getting to their feet, he bolts. Out the door. Our of the school. He only slows when his feet crunches on the front road's gravel.

Ayub arrives right on time. Simon jumps on his bike before he can ask what's going on. It isn't until the next day that Simon comes to a shocking realisation: he left his phone at Hillerska.

• ❤︎ •

"Didn't think I'd be back here so soon" Ayub says as he drops Simon off.

"I'll be in and out, I promise. Everyone's gone home so I'll be able to find it and grab it"

"Here, call yourself on my phone. You can follow the ringing"

"Where would I be without you"

Ayub tosses his phone and gestures for Simon to go. He pushes open the doors. Hillerska feels haunted without students bustling through the halls. It's like a museum. Simon opens Ayub's phone and calls himself.

It's probably in the dining room where they ate. He walks towards it, listening intently for his ringtone. What he doesn't expect is for someone to pick up.

“Hello?”

Simon stares at the phone for a moment before pressing it to his ear. ". . . Hello?"

“Simon? That you?”

“Wille!" Perfect. The one person he was trying to not talk to. "Sorry, I didn’t recognise your voice”

"Don't worry about it, I don't think you were expecting me to answer"

"Yeah, uh, you have my phone. That's why I was calling it. I must've left it here yesterday"

"Where are you? I can drop it off"

"I'm already at Hillerska so I can just grab it. Want me to come to you?"

"Just start walking, we'll find each other"

Simon decides to go in the general direction of Wilhelm's dorms. It really does feel like a museum. Each alcove is like a display he can't touch. His footsteps echo.

“So . . . what’re you doing with my phone?” Simon asks.

“I actually didn’t know it was yours. It was left on one of the tables, so I took it in case the owner came looking for it”

“And here I am”

“And here you are”

Simon can't help but smile. He's sure he can hear Wilhelm smiling too.

Wilhelm takes a deep breath. “I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you”

“Talk to me?”

“Yeah. Um . . . it's about Felice's party"

Simon stops. Here it is. Everything has backfired and now the one thing he didn't want to talk about has come up.

"Simon? You there?"

"Yes! Uh yes I am." He rubs a hand across his face. Play it cool. "What about her party?"

"I'm sorry that I was so drunk that night. I figured I'd need some . . . liquid courage but I guess I had too much"

"Yeah. It was a uh, a wild night" Simon feels like he's choking on his own heart. He distracts himself by looking around at the hallway. He's not even sure where in the school he is. He's more focused on not throwing up.

"Do you remember that night?"

Play it cool. "Anything specific you want me to remember?"

There's a moment of silence. Simon can hear Wilhelm's footsteps through the phone. "If you want to forget that night and move on like nothing happened, we can definitely can"

Simon doesn't want to forget. It's all he can think about.

"Do you want to forget about it?" Simon asks, swallowing.

Wilhelm's walking slows as he thinks. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable"

"I don't . . . I wasn't uncomfortable"

There's a beat. "I'm glad. That-that you weren't uncomfortable"

"I'm a little uncomfortable now" Simon laughs awkwardly. His tension eases a little when Wilhelm laughs too.

"I'm sorry. I just don't know how to talk about this" Simon kicks his feet against the floor.

"I have to say, I didn't think I'd be talking to you about this over the phone"

"I didn't think you'd want to talk about this at all. I thought you were going to avoid me forever"

"Hey, you're the one who was avoiding me"

"Yeah yeah I know" Simon smiles.

Wilhelm takes a deep breath and exhales. "I really wanted to kiss you that night. That's why I got so drunk I needed a confidence boost. It uh, it didn't help that you ignored the kiss at Rosh's game"

Simon's jaw drops in a smile. "I didn't ignore it! I just panicked. I figured it was a spur of the moment celebration"

"None of it was spur of the moment. I've wanted to kiss you for a while"

"You have?"

"You didn't notice?"

"Not at all. If I did, I probably would've kissed you"

Simon hears him stop and smile. “Simon, you are the smartest idiot I ever met”

He hangs up. He hangs up? Simon looks at the phone as if it holds the answer. His brow furrow as a hand grabs his shoulder from behind. He turns, that there he is.

"Hi" they say in unison.

Wilhelm's hands are on Simon's shoulders. He holds his gaze with a smile. Simon completely forgets how to breathe. All he can think about his Wilhelm being so close to him and his lips being right there because really they're right there-

"Can I kiss you again?" Wilhelm asks. Simon nods.

Wilhelm kisses him for the third time. It's hesitant- like he's testing the waters to see if Simon is willing to swim. Before he can pull away, Simon yanks him back in. His hands thread through Wilhelm's hair as Wilhelm wraps his arms around his waist. They pull each other impossibly close. It's their third-first-kiss and it is perfect.

#wilhelm x simon #young royals #wilmon fanfiction #wilmon fanfic #wilhelm x Simon fanfiction #wilhelm x Simon fanfic #young royals fanfic #edvin ryding #omar rudberg

[jackyjango]

Part 1- Mouth to Mouth Combat

Pairing: cherik

Written for this prompt

Erik's empty stomach grumbles in protest. The digital clock on his monitor displays it's 2:30 PM, but he hasn't had a bite to eat since that morning. An ache has been steadily building in his head that throbs with every pump of blood through his jugular. Three ounces of coffee somehow hasn’t seemed to tame it. He needs something stronger. Something like nicotine.

He's mulling over how he wants to torture Sean for screwing up the third blueprint in a row when his phone begins to ring. Though he's set the ringing volume to the minimum, it draws the attention of his interns. Angel gets up from her seat with an excuse of locating a fallen pen while Sean leans back in his chair pretending to stretch his legs. Even though Alex’s eyes are stuck to the monitor, Erik knows that his ears are pointed in his direction. Utter bastards. At least Darwin is the only one in their lot who has the decency to pretend that he’s minding his own business. Pretend, being the key here.

Erik glares at all of them until they pretend to shrink back to work before picking up the call.

'Hello, aunt Ruth.’ He tries to keep his voice to a whisper, but it comes out as a growl. ‘No aunty, I'm not angry with you for calling. That's absurd- No aunty, I'm just at work. Yes, yes…. - yes aunty. You know I will. Of course, I will. Yes- I'm eating. He knows it too. What? This Saturday? Alright, I'll ask him if he's free. Yes, I'll bring him if he's free. Of course, I will.’

On the other end, aunt Ruth goes on berating Erik’s unhealthy eating habits without giving him a breathing pause while Erik nods and aquices to whatever she says. He’s just about to reassure her the third time that he’s been eating his meals on time when Azazel bursts into life in front of him with a hiss of air which overlaps with whatever Aunt Ruth says next.

Tapping on his watch, Azazel mouths the words: ‘Let's go.’

'Alright, aunt Ruth, I have to go now,’ Erik says, half getting up from his desk. 'Yes, yes. I'll check with him and text you. Love you, too… Bye.’

Pocketing his phone, he turns to glare at his sad-excuse of team members. Like a flock of birds dispersing at a pelted stone, they lung back to staring at the screen and tapping idle keys.

Azazel chuckles beside him as they head out into the roaring Genoshan sun.

The chicken roll they both take from the street vendor manages to vaguely quieten Erik’s stomach. He lights a cigarette after walking a short distance to the smoking zone in front of their office building. Floating the lighter to AZ, Erik sends out a text to Charles.

Hey, Aunt Ruth’s invited us to dinner on Saturday. You free?

The reply comes immediately, which means that Charles is on his free hour.

When am I not free for her cooking? Count me in! :)

While Erik sends aunt Ruth a text to confirm that both he and Charles would be coming for dinner, a second text comes from Charles.

Speaking of dinners, how does pasta sound for today?

Smirking, Erik takes another puff of his cigarette.

Are you cooking? Really?

Hey, my cooking isn’t all that bad. I’m decent. Well… mostly.

They both know that Charles’ cooking doesn’t come anywhere near the decent territory, so Erik doesn’t comment on the decency of Charles’ cooking or bring up the fact that he almost burnt the kitchen on three different occasions. Instead Erik sends out: In that case, A okay for pasta.

Stomaching substandard pasta is a small price to pay for being Charles’ roommate.

I assure you, my friend. You won’t be disappointed, comes Charles’ text followed by a grinning emoji.

The devil that he is, Az peeks into his phone and smirks. 'Taking to your boyfriend, huh?'

Erik rolls his eyes. 'Charles is not my boyfriend, Az. He's my friend, just like you are.'

Az shudders and blows out a cloud of smoke through his nose, the image rendering as the incarnation of Satan himself. 'Please, don't compare me with him.'

Erik supposes Az is right. It'd be grossly unfair to compare someone like Az with someone like Charles.

‘Hey,’ Az says, inhaling another puff of smoke into his lungs, ‘A friend of mine is playing at the pub downtown this Saturday. I’m going out with the boys. Wanna join?’

‘No, I’m going to aunt Ruth’s for dinner. You carry on.’

‘And is Charles going with you?’ Az asks way too innocently for Erik’s liking.

‘Yes.’ Erik agrees begrudgingly.

Az pins him with a look that spells out crystal clearly, see what I mean by boyfriends?

Erik barely restrains the urge to smack Az on the head. ‘He’s a friend and a roommate, Az. Nothing more.’

‘Really?’ Az asks leaning on a pillar, his movements gracefully feline; almost akin to a bored cat toying with a ball of yarn aware of the level of destruction it’s capable of. ‘Is that why you refuse to move out or is it because you prefer to travel twenty five kilometres to work?’

Okay. Erik will agree that travelling almost an hour to work is a bit of a hindrance. But it wasn’t a hindrance two years ago when Erik was looking for a place near the engineering firm he was interning at the time. He’d seen an ad on a communal mutant app asking for someone to share a two bedroom flat with. The man who had posted the ad, Charles Francis Xavier, at the time had been a freshly minted post graduate eyeing the position of a junior lecturer in the Genoshan university with a lease amount to a nice house too hefty to bear on his own.

The house itself was more agreeable to Erik and More importantly to Erik’s meagre stipend.

Charles had declared that he’s gay and a telepath the day they’d met, and that Erik should look elsewhere if he had a problem with either of those. In response, Erik had plucked the pen tucked into Charles’ breast pocket with his powers and had signed his half of the lease agreement.

Erik’s not an easy person to live with (and Az will enthusiastically attest to it). He’s weird and particular and controlling and territorial (And that’s just the first four entries on AZ’s list). He doesn’t know what to attribute it to, but living with Charles for a roommate is …. easy.

His living arrangement with Charles is comfortable. Charles doesn’t have any irritating habits. He isn’t stingy with money or particular with the groceries. He carries out his fair share of cooking and cleaning around the house. They take their turns doing the laundry and the dishes. What talent Charles lacks in cooking, Charles makes up for it in baking (And that’s coming from a man who hates anything with more than two spoons of sugar in it). He isn’t overly dirty or messy. Charles picks up after himself (except when he has finals or is in the middle of a research. The house is a dump zone for his tea mugs and their dining table is a disaster zone for papers during such bouts).

More importantly, Charles respects Erik’s boundaries. He doesn’t poke his nose into Erik’s business or needle Erik for anything he isn't willing to share. It helps that they keep their personal lives separate, too. Whatever flings he has, Charles keeps it outside of their shared home and Erik returns the favour. The only things they argue on are which show to watch on TV or which place to order in from. And all the times they’ve come very close to fighting are nights spent over a chessboard pitching points to and fro, for or against human-mutant relationships and ideologies. Erik would be lying if he said that he didn’t live for such nights.

In little over two years, Charles has become Erik’s best friend. And apart from Az (who’s more of a brother Erik can’t get rid of no matter how hard he tries), Erik doesn’t have many of them. So he doesn’t see why he should give up all of that for a few hours saved in commute to work.

Voicing any or all of it will only encourage Az to needle him more, so Erik shrugs and squashes his spent cigarette with the heel of his boot. ‘Come on, it’s getting late. I still have two blueprints to review before seven.’

Az groans at the mention of blueprints. ‘I have three to finish. God, Shaw will bite my head off my shoulders if I don’t complete it by today.’

With that, they move into the blessed cool of the air conditioned building.

Just before Erik turns on his monitor, a text alerts Erik (and by proxy all of his interns he shares his cubicle with). It’s from Charles and says: Got to get to my classes now. See you at home Erik! :)

See you at home, Erik sends and smiles to himself.

He just hopes Az doesn’t see it.

-

#cherik #cherik fic #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #roommate au #I’ve wanted to write this for so long now #you guys have no idea #jjcherik

[fbfh]

light up the dark [VI] - leo x reader

genre: mid adventure domestic fluff overture, romance, smutty lemony bit towards the end

word count: 3k

pairing: Leo x gothy!child of eros!fem reader

requested: very much so, yes

warnings: magic manipulation powers, feelings are hard and weird and scary, some innuendos, the phrase hot gusher out of context, the word dirty talk, trying to "proposition [someone] in front of two for one cookie crisp", brief credit card theft, jason thinks ketchup is spicy and gets clowned on for it, one use of the word lube in reference to mechanical lubricant, shirtless leo remember that one piece of shirtless leo viria art?????? remember the caption?????, your facade is beginning to crack, deadpan joke about being dead in space, making out, whole lotta sexual tension, brief mention of a boner, teeny tiny bit of grinding, getting interrupted, c*lypso

summary: after an extensive shopping trip, you, Leo, and Jason settle into your airbnb and wait for the others to arrive. Jason takes a nap, and Leo helps you dye your hair. You return the favor by helping him make dinner which leads to two things; a well timed boner, and a poorly timed visitor.

listen to: power and control - marina, 100 bad days - ajr, all I ask - adele

a/n: let's play spot the zack and cody reference within the first paragraph

also surprise the series isn't dead!! a shock to all but mostly me!!

as with all smexy smutty nsfw content, all characters are aged up to 18+

Standing in front of a wall of hair dye taller than you are should have been exciting. It would have been, except for the fact that all the colors were various shades of honey mist auburn. You really don’t want to have to make a separate trip to a beauty store for hair dye. Your eyes land on a firetruck red box, and gratefully, you realize you won’t have to.

“Perfect,” you muse, throwing it into your cart, along with the other stuff on the list you’d divided between you. You grab a few other things from the beauty section while you’re there; some makeup, eyeliner, a glass nail file, and a tiny pair of oil slick cuticle scissors.

Nearby is a guy a little older than you in a varsity hoodie and sweatpants squinting at a two in one shampoo label.

Perfect, you think, beginning to approach. You work your magic - literally - and within a few minutes you have his credit card. It takes way less time than it used to. You also didn’t have to smile and flirt nearly as much as you used to. You’re relieved that you don’t have to fake enthusiasm around rich douchebags the way you used to, and a new inky drop of fear begins to stain the corners of your mind. You can’t even bear to admit it to yourself, but you’re kind of scared. Before you can begin to question if you know what love is and if you’re capable of experiencing it without the influence of your divine heritage, you shove it all away. Not the place, not the time. You speed up a little, passing an endcap of candy, and knock a box into your cart.

On the other side of the store, Jason checks off items from their half of the list as Leo tosses items in the cart, talking along the way. Of course, you came up in conversation rather quickly.

“She’s… a real piece of work.” Jason says, treading lightly.

“You said it, man,” Leo agrees, sliding a pack of coke onto the bottom of the cart. Jason thinks for a moment before continuing.

“She seems to,” he tries to figure out how to phrase their dynamic, “not hate you as much as everyone else.” Leo laughs at the accuracy of the statement. He can tell Jason has something else to say, so he’s quiet while putting paper plates and napkins into the cart.

“Hey, Leo?”

“Yeah?”

“Just… don’t let her hurt you, okay?”

He stops for a second. He’s so lucky to have a friend like Jason, one that will genuinely look out for him, but sometimes people caring for him still catches him off guard. Really off guard. With no idea how to begin to verbalize that complicated mess, he takes a split second to collect himself.

“Thanks, man.”

His smile is sincere.

Don’t let her hurt you. Can he just do that? Not let someone hurt him? Especially someone like you. He’s only had a few long term crushes before, all just out of reach and only getting further away. Only one had amounted to something - not that he could call what he had with Calypso ‘something’. She certainly wouldn’t. He looks around, trying to shake off the sting. He starts to get that unsettled, itchy feeling when he focuses on stuff like that for too long.

‘At least I got some good stories out of it,’ he thinks, messing with the back of his hair and fixing his hoodie strings.

“Here.”

He turns around, coming face to face with you, holding out a box very close to him.

“Hot gusher.” You say softly. What? His cheeks heat up, pulse speeding up suddenly. He glances at Jason, who’s at the other end of the aisle asking an employee something. Are you implying something? Are you trying to proposition him in front of two for one cookie crisp? He’s unable to look away from your gaze, intense and striking. You couldn’t possibly mean what he thinks you mean. Your fingers brush and he’s struggling to find an elegant way to say ‘hey, maybe the grocery store isn’t an ideal place for dirty talk’.

“W- uh, sorry, what?” he says, laughing in an equally hushed tone, needing to make sure you meant what he thought you did. You glance down, then back up.

“They’re spicy gushers. I thought you’d like them.” the feeling is gone in a split second, the same time it took to arrive, and is replaced with relief. He looks down at the box, realizing he’d taken it from you at some point. He laughs at the ridiculousness of his previous panic.

“Thanks,” he says, a reflective smile on his face.

You realize how comforted you are to see him smile, really smile, when you catch yourself having to keep a neutral face. One of the first times your resting bitch face has been intentional. Before you can say you’re welcome, Jason comes back over. You hand him the card.

“Pin number’s 0401.”

They both stare at you, skimming the label of a granola bar, completely unperturbed.

“How…”

“Credit card theft.”

The logical part of Leo’s brain starts to speak up, telling him to raise his guard, that his stomach should be twisting. If you can just take someone’s credit card without a hint of remorse, who knows what the hell kind of damage you could do to him if he got closer to you? And he really wants to get closer to you.

“Oh,” you pull a small pop top tube out of your cart and hand it to Leo, “this is for you too. You know, since you don’t like coffee,” you trail off as he reads the label. Caffeine and electrolyte drink tablets, red berry rampage flavor. He looks up at you, feeling warm and… something else, something ineffable, at the gesture.

You stare at each other, eyes locked, surprised at the strangely intimate feeling stirring in both of you.

“What are those?” Jason asks, snapping you out of whatever that was.

“Spicy gushers,” Leo says, smiling again, “I didn’t even know they made those.”

“Hot mango,” Jason reads from the side of the box, “that actually sounds pretty good.”

“No way dude, you can’t handle spicy food.” He starts to protest, and Leo continues, “You think ketchup is spicy!” He looks shocked.

“Okay, that was one time! It was a weird brand and there was way too much pepper in it!”

You bite back a giggle at their bickering, taking note of how much better Leo seems to be doing and finding surprising comfort in their banter.

It doesn’t take long to get to the airbnb and get set up. You all dump your bags in your rooms, bring in the groceries, and shove everything into the cabinets in a reasonably organized manner.

Jason heads upstairs to unpack and call Piper, announcing a few minutes later that they should be here in less than two hours.

“Perfect,” you pull out your hair dye from the last bag. It’s not exactly the manic panic wildfire red you’d initially wanted, but it’s definitely better than nothing. You stare at the box for a second, then up at Leo who’s trying to get one more bag of chips to fit in with the others.

“Hey,” you say, just loud enough to get his attention, “do you… can you get the back of my head?” He looks at you, questioning, and you hold up the box dye. He smiles, once again noting your softened edges around him.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and minutes later you’re in the bathroom, adorned in a big tee shirt covered in all your previous hair colors. He’s staring at your shirt, eyes dancing over the swirls and splatters of color. It reminds him of a painting he’d seen once, unable to remember the name.

You shake the bottle, skimming the instructions again, then start speaking to him, eyes still on the box.

“Take a section of hair, about this much,” you demonstrate, holding out a section of hair, “rub in the dye like this…”

You hand him the second bottle of red dye, and he starts on the back. His fingertips start separating out a section of your hair, and you still, a shiver running up your spine. He hesitates for a moment, then continues, and you hope he hadn’t noticed. His breath fans your ear, and you can feel the heat radiating off his chest. Your lungs are shallow suddenly, squeezed tight like a bouquet clutched in a shaking hand. You find it almost impossible to focus on dying the front half of your hair.

You don’t want it to stop, you realize. His fingertips dancing along your hair, the glimpses of his incredibly focused face in the bathroom mirror, the way he’ll gently turn your head to make sure he didn’t miss a spot.

“Shit,” he leans back, hunching forward. You look behind you, eyes landing immediately on the spot of red dye on his shirt.

“Shit,” you echo. He looks back at you, waiting to see how he’ll react.

“Oh, it’s all good - no worries. I already have a ton of motor oil and lube - lubricant… machine grade, petroleum based engine lubricant-” he laughs, “stains on this shirt anyway. Don’t sweat it.”

You almost laugh. A giggle bubbles up from your chest and stomach, but catches in your throat. Before it can come out, he slips off his dye stained gloves, and tugs off his dye stained shirt from the back. It seems to happen in slow motion. In a mere moment, your eyes engraving every detail, every line and curve and freckle to memory.

There’s really no delicate way to put it; he’s fucking jacked. Deceptively so. You’re frozen in place, cheeks flushed. You suddenly wonder what it would be like to be wrapped up in his arms, held so close to him.

You snap yourself out of the thought, all of that occurring in just a few seconds. He leans past you, setting the dye stained shirt carefully on the counter, glancing at you intensely.

“Are you checking me out?”

You make yourself roll your eyes and turn away, replying, “I’m sure you’d love that.”

Angled away from him, you momentarily reprimand yourself, squeezing your eyes shut and mouthing oh my god. You turn back to him, not recalling the last time you had to deliberately keep up your aloof front around someone like this.

“So, are we finishing my hair or just gonna leave it like this?” you ask rhetorically, motioning to your half done hair.

He watches you do this, confirming his suspicion that you’re really not as cold as you let on. A smile blooms on his face, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything as… cute as that.

“Yeah,” he replies, slipping his gloves back on. The things you do around him seem to mean more now. He notices the way your eyes flutter closed for a moment when he plays with your hair, working in the dye, or the way you still for a split second when he gets a little too close to the side of your face, checking that he didn’t miss a spot.

He doesn’t want this to end either. But eventually, your hair is fully saturated with dye, the timer on your phone counting down slowly. There’s still some dye left. He sits on the closed toilet.

“Your turn. Do me.”

“What?” you laugh.

“Yeah, a little streak - up here.” He leans forward, sectioning off a part of his hair.

“Seriously?” you ask.

“Yeah. Unless you don’t want to match…” he muses. Your eyes get this dreamy look for the briefest second, then you’re turning back to shake the bottle some more.

“I guess… I mean there’s too much dye to throw out, we might as well do something with it.”

It’s his turn, now, to feel the warmth from your body, your hands running through his hair. His eyes want to close, and bask in the feeling, but he refuses to miss out on the view of you so soft, so close to him. It doesn’t last nearly long enough for either of you, and much too soon you’re pulling away and throwing away the gloves and empty bottles.

By the time you finish cleaning up and throw out the garbage, it’s time to rinse your hair. Hanging your head over the tub, you let the water flow over your head until Leo tells you it’s running clear. He does the same, and you point out too late that he only had to rinse the dyed part, not his whole head.

You both laugh as you wrap a towel around your hair, teaching him how to do the same.

“Sweet, I’ve always wondered how to do the spa snail towel thing.”

“The spa snail towel thing?” You try in vain to fight another laugh.

“Yeah, you know… cause it looks like a snail, and they do it at spas…”

“Oh… my gods…” you laugh, exiting the bathroom and heading down the hall, “I”m going to get changed.” you call.

“Am I wrong?” he asks after you, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing. He heads to his room to do the same.

A few minutes later, you’re carefully pulling on your top, when he calls through your door.

“Hey, I’m gonna be in the kitchen, come down when you’re ready.”

“...Okay,” you agree.

You check your outfit in the mirror. You can still feel his fingers brushing your neck. Your head tilts at the memory. Snapshots of him pulling off his shirt in slow motion flash in your memory.

You realize how much of an affect the last hour has had on you. Your stomach drops.

You can’t possibly be falling in love. No way. Not a snowball’s chance in hell.

You’re not the falling in love type. At most, you’d hook up with someone a couple times on the rare occasion you thought they were hot, too.

Oh, you decide, that must be what’s happening. I just think he’s hot. I mean, duh. Of course he’s hot. Did you see him in there?

That’s all you have to do; hook up with him once, maybe twice, then you’ll get over it. It’ll make his ex jealous, and they’ll get back together. It will go just like it always has. Then you can move on to whatever the next crisis is.

You take a breath, resolving to follow the plan, exit your room. You throw yours and Leo’s old clothes and towels in the hamper, and head down stairs. He greets you, and pulls you into the kitchen.

“I have something to ask you.” Your brow furrows.

“...Okay.”

He takes your hand in his, the other behind his back.

“Will you…” he looks at you, gaze piercing, “...be my sous-chef.” he finishes, holding out an apron, matching his.

You study him, a hopeful, surprisingly confident look on his face. His hair is still damp. You’re sure yours is, too. You wait a beat, before replying slowly.

“Yes. But I’m not wearing that.”

“That’s fair,” he says, setting the apron on the counter, “I will have to dock your pay for being out of uniform, though.” You let out a puff of air from your nose, biting back a laugh. He pulls out a skillet, bowl, and oil, and begins preheating the pan. You watch him pull out more ingredients, and begin to set things up.

“Right now we’re waiting on that,” he says nodding at the stove. You nod, inspecting a bottle of seasoning he’d pulled out, and settle into a comfortable silence.

He thinks back to the last time you had time like this - playing twenty questions at your apartment. A pit forms in his stomach as he remembers the conversation veering to Calypso, as it always seemed to. He shoves it away. Not this time. He steadies his nerves. “So, you want to play twenty questions?”

You agree, coming closer to him.

“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

Your eyes flick over to the clock. You have a solid hour, hour and a half before the others are supposed to get here. You stare at him, brushing hair out of his face.

“I’d be dead in the endless void of deep space.”

He cracks a smile at how on brand that response was. Your fingertips trail down to his neck, rethen shoulder. The smile doesn’t leave his face, not completely. Your heart beats loudly in anticipation.

“My turn. Do you want to make out?”

His head snaps up, eyes locked with yours, trying to tell if you’re serious or if this is another example of your distinct sense of humor. But he can tell it’s not - there’s something a little too close to the surface in your eyes.

“Yeah. Yes, totally-”

You grab his collar, pulling him in for a kiss, and leaning back against the empty counter.

His lips are soft and warm, moving gracefully with yours. You barely register that the first kiss ends before you dive back in. You angle your head, deepening the kiss. He plants one hand on the counter, the other making its way to the small of your back. You flick your tongue past his lips, and his grip on your waist tightens. You clutch his collar tighter, other hand moving through his hair, still damp at the ends.

You can tell he’s enjoying what you do by the way his mouth quirks up ever so slightly at the corners, and by the way he starts to harden beneath you. You roll your hips into his, and he falters, sighing, breath fanning your lips. Not quite a moan, but you’re getting there.

The front door opens before you can.

Leo pulls away reluctantly, very reluctantly, and turns off the stove.

“That was fast,” he says, panting slightly and still very flushed. They’re not supposed to be here for a while, still.

A tall girl enters the kitchen, dark strawberry blonde hair pulled over her shoulder. She looks between you and Leo with a sour expression on her face.

“Calypso,” Leo says.

"...Hi."

#leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader #percy jackson #pjo #lv light up the dark #is that the right tag #lutd #light up the dark #boy howdy is shit about to hit the fan #this isn't even the worst of it yet #the longest part to write was the making out at the end #I kept distracting myself #you know that scene in the princess diaries movie where mia is watching josh and lana kiss #that's how I felt #no thoughts head leo #o o f #just called myself out wow #anyway #enjoy this #pls rant to me in the tags and ask box about it teehee #i personally believe that pjo calypso and hoo calypso are two diffrernt peopel #hoo really ruined her character #i cast antagonize #i mean it #is believable ig #we just didn't get a transition #anyway yeah here's this

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Fifty-Two

Wattpad

Word Count: 3.2k

Warning(s): explicit language, drug abuse, violence, sexual situations

Tag List: @unknownoblivion @sinningsixx @edwardtriggerhandzz @lemmyjelly @haileynicoleseavey17 @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @mgkobsessed @vamprlestat @sharon6713 @itsametaphorbriansblog @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @fandomshit6000 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @kingbouji3 @evrsncnewyork @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @thanks2pete @abaldboi @swoopygorl @justjodeye @liith-ium @caos18blog @ytwahsog @shamlessobsessions @scarecrowmax @toadspleen @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @loveofmyloif @sparxx27 @kaitieskidmore1 @xpoisonousrosesx @cruecifymesixx @ijustwanttokiss70srogertaylor @emmaelizabeth2014 @meetthesixxter @sixxsixxsexx @sublimeprincesswasteland @arianareirg @girlnight-terror @mcnibberachi

@fancywasmyname1 @teller258316 @ggorehorror @blowinmeupwithherlove @xrosegoldwolfx @mylifeisjustafeverdream @redlipscrystalskies14

"Ah!" I squeal with a small giggle laced through it, Nikki's lips pressing to my shoulder while he pulls out of me and his cum spills on the inside of my thighs that are wide open.

My leg's hooked over his hip as he lays behind me with his arm snaking around my waist, between my breasts, while his hand has a solid hold on my throat.

When he's done, he's pressing one last kiss to my cheek before rolling over on his back, reaching for something on his night table.

I shift to my back, staring up at the mirrored ceiling to see him holding something out to me.

I turn my head to look at him just as he's taking my hand and sliding my wedding ring back on, pressing a little kiss to my hand before grabbing at my jaw assertively, kissing me.

"Apology accepted." I say once he pulls away.

"Yeah, ditto." He chuckles, kissing me one last time before I'm giving out a content sigh and sitting up to go shower.

Once I get out, I dry off and wrap myself in a towel, brushing through my wet hair with my fingers as I step into our bedroom to get some lotion on and get dressed.

"Wait, wait." Nikki stops me as I squeeze lotion onto my hand and I look up at him and raise my brows, seeing him grab his camera from the drawer in the nightstand. "Okay, drop the towel and oil up nice: I'm gonna need something to keep me company while I'm in the studio for countless hours the next several weeks."

I roll my eyes and hold back a smile, throwing my towel at him and it hits him in the face.

"Woo!" He cheers, tossing the towel away and I cover my chest just as the flash goes off and I shake my head a little, ignoring him collecting the dispensed Polaroid as I start putting my moisturizer on.

When I'm finished, I'm pulling on sweat pants and hooking my bra, about to pull a tank top on.

"Hey, Viv?" Nikki asks me.

"Yeah, babe?"

"Is the Lord's prayer important?"

I furrow my brows, finding it odd that's he's asking.

"Well, it's the template Jesus gave Christians to use when praying so yes, it's very important." I reply and he nods a little.

"So...like...what is the prayer, exactly?"

I drop the tank-top in my hands, my eyes widen, and I look at him like he's lost his mind.

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with Nikki Sixx?"

"Ha, ha." He sarcastically lets out.

"No, seriously, either you're a clone, had a bad dose of drugs, or your body is officially done with and dying and God's jabbing at you to throw one last 'hail Mary' attempt at salvation before you croak."

"No, I just wanna know what I need to say when I pray to you." He replies with a smirk and I pretend to nearly trip and fall on the floor as if it's slippery.

"Woah, woah, woah, you gotta give me a warning before you say something so slick." I tell him, grinning and he pulls me onto him, laughing. "And to answer your question, it's 'Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen'." I finish, deciding he wasn't even listening, but I have a weird feeling he's taking notes. "Seriously, though, why're you asking?" I add, my fingers fiddling with the various necklaces hanging around his neck.

A devious, childish, sneaky little tug of his lips his highlighting the "up to no good" look in his hazel eyes as his pointer finger traces the crucifix around my neck before meeting my gaze.

"Just curious."

Just a dumbass.

I finish dressing before stepping out to check the mail.

When I come back, I realize there's a handwritten note pinned to the door.

It's signed by our accountant and I roll my jaw.

It was $2,500.00 last May, which means he's been going through $5,000.00 a day.

"Uh, Nikki?!" I call coming into the house with the mail and the letter, going to our bedroom where he's plucking at his bass, waving the letter.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"Sixx 1 & 2,

Sixx 1 is still spending exponential amounts of money on heroin a day. I left a warning last May, and said Nikki will either be dead or the two of you will be completely broke by May this year. That still stands because the amount being spent has doubled since then. Slow down." I read it off. "Nikki, it was $2,500.00 last time so he's saying you're currently spending $5,000.00 a day on smack?!" I raise my voice. "How the hell can someone possibly do that much heroin--or any freaking drug--in one day?!"

"Viv--"

"--That's $1.6 million a year! Did we even make that much last year!" I scream.

"We? Vivian, you've never worked a day in your fucking life. There is no 'we made', it's what I made. And because I'm the one who made the money, I can do whatever the hell I want with it so just hop off."

"Nikki, baby, we have bills, and insurance didn't cover as much on my time in the hospital and follow-ups as we had hoped so we have to spend money on necessities and not..." I trail off, calming myself down, rubbing my forehead, trying not to start crying.

"Viv, I'll handle it." He tells me after a moment of quiet between us. "Alright?"

I rub my lips together, letting out a sigh as he holds his hand out to take the stack of bills from me.

I hand them over, not saying a word more, before leaving him to continue scraping up motivation to actually write something.

He wrote "Wild Side", which completely reworks and assaults the Lord's prayer...then the bastard listed me as a co-write because, "well you told me what the prayer was to begin with so technically you helped me write it."

When the conservatives went digging around once the album was released, they dragged me through the mud when they saw my name attached to a bastardized version of something sacred to christianity and I heard every degrading, yet passive, insult any holier-than-thou Bible-biddy could throw at me.

I stopped going to church for quite a while after that because I didn't even want to face the possibility of all those people smiling in my face while thinking, "she's not the really for God."

"Valentine's Day?" I ask Doc, raising my brows. "...Really?"

"Well, they wanna get a good feel of Nikki and you're obviously a part of his life, so they figured spending Valentine's Day with you two would be pretty interesting." He explains.

"I don't want anybody getting a good feel of Nikki's anything." I reply stubbornly, crossing my arms.

"Yeah, and Viv won't let me pull out the really special techniques while someone's in the house with us." Nikki adds. "And she only lets me do them on special occasions."

"Nobody's feeling anybody else, and you two sodomites can have all the fun you want once the interview is done with. It'll take four hours, tops." Doc says, looking at Nikki. "We're gonna have to start promoting the album."

This is the selling point.

Nikki sighs, rubbing his face, groaning.

"Fine." He gives up, looking at me. "We can entertain the nosy bastard for a few hours, I guess."

"I suppose." I roll my eyes.

"Thank you." Doc let's out with relief.

"Was that it?" I ask him, glancing around his office.

"Oh, yeah." He nods.

"We drove down here just for you to tell us something you could have easily called and told us over the phone?" Nikki asks next.

"Yeah, 'cause I wanted to see how you look and sure enough you look like shit." Doc states and Nikki rolls his eyes. "Which reminds me, clean up your house and make yourself seem like you're not on drugs. K?" Doc gives us a parting word of advice as we stand up to leave.

"Yeah, yeah, got it." Nikki waves him off, leaving in front of me.

"Viv." Doc says to me and I nod reassuringly.

"I'll make sure he keeps it together for the interview."

"Thank you, you two be careful on the way home."

"We will, bye." I shut the door and follow Nikki out to his Jeep.

"I really don't feel like dealing with the press." He grumbles, looking at me now with his sunglasses on and I give him a small smile.

"Maybe it won't be that bad."

"I don't like people I don't fuck with in my house. It's my house. My space. It isn't a fucking amusement park that's open for review." He cranks the car and I put my seat belt on.

"Baby?"

"What?" He says a little harsh.

"It will be okay." I pat his fluffy hair. "K?"

He doesn't answer, actually pouting like a spoiled little boy.

When he ignores me, about to start driving, I raise a brow, unbuckle, and my fingers slowly fumble with the button on his jeans as his pout falters and his smirk replaces it, followed by the sound of a content, groan-filled sigh, and the back of his head hitting the back of his seat when I get my mouth around his prick.

Once we get home I'm wiping the remains of slobber and cum from my lips and he's struggling to keep his legs from collapsing.

"Are you okay?" I ask him smugly when his leg shakes a little bit as he unlocks the front door.

"Watch it, Sixx." He warns as he points at me, his hand popping me on the ass when I walk in front of him to go inside, and I let out a small shriek, following it with a laugh.

My laughter abruptly stops when I see Vanity watching T.V.

She actually seems sober enough, but she looks like she just came off of a bender.

Nikki and I look at each other.

"Oh, there you are. Nikki wasn't answering the phone and I wanted to see him." She tells us, her eyes glued him, and he sighs.

"Well, I'm here. What do you want?" He asks her in a snap, taking his jacket off.

"Nikki, quit being rude." I tell him quietly.

"Showing up to people's houses uninvited is rude." He replies, glaring at her.

"Not when I gave her the code to the gate and a key." I state.

His eyes bug for a second and he's raising his brows at me.

"You what?"

"Tansy has the code and a key, Tommy, Vince and Mick have the code and a key. Izzy, Steven, Slash, Duff, Axl--"

"--That's different." He cuts me short.

"How? They're our friends and so is she." I point out.

"If I'm not welcome I can just go." She says, grabbing her coat.

"Bye." Nikki says just as I say, "no, it's okay."

He and I give each other dirty looks.

"I was actually about to start cooking dinner and invite some friends over so feel free to stay, please." I offer to her. "Nikki, I need your help in the kitchen."

He follows me and I yank on the ends of his hair once we're alone, scolding him.

"Will you stop being a jackass to her?!" I whisper-yell.

"Can you stop being so fucking nice to people? It's stupid."

"Oh, God forbid Nikki Sixx be married to someone who's not a complete bitch." I roll my eyes, grabbing a few pans from our cabinet and he let's out a heavy breath.

"She's fucking crazy, Vivian." He argues and I turn to face him.

"You say the same thing about me any time I piss you off. I really believe she's a good girl, Nikki. She just needs one, good, solid friend that isn't just friends with her to have someone to do drugs with." I explain.

"Oh, yeah, Viv, she's really good...at being a fucking slut."

I pop him in the side of the face and point my finger at him.

"You don't talk like that about Vince or Tommy or Robbin so why the hell talk like that about her?"

"Because she is one." He ignores me and I let out a breath. "Some of the dudes she's fucked are married." He adds.

"Tansy has slept with married men, is she a slut, too?" I ask him and he rolls his jaw. "What I thought."

"Viv, I really don't--"

"Okay, Nikki. Whatever you say." I interrupt him, grabbing some things from the fridge. "She's an awful person, got it. Can you please help me with this so I can clean up the house some?" I ask.

He hesitates for a second before opening the packet of chicken on the counter I pulled from the fridge.

"Thank you." I smile, kissing his cheek, before leaving him alone so I can get the house in nice shape.

To say Nikki projected shit onto Vanity would be an understatement. Her hands weren't clean, of course, but he would often externally put her down the way he internally put himself down for what the two of them were doing to me. It was moments like that, that I looked back on after finding everything out, and would want to hit myself.

He practically told me they were sleeping together without actually saying "hey, I'm screwing this woman that you think is your friend, and you're being too nice and naive to think we wouldn't do that to you."

"Tommy and Heather, Vince and Sharise, Tansy and Vanity, Duff, Slash, Steven, Izzy and Axl." I tell Mick how many people will be at dinner and I hear him let out a breath on the other end of the phone.

"I don't know, Viv." He tells me.

"Mick, c'mon, I haven't seen you very much the past year."

"I don't know..."

"Mick--"

"--Mick, get your ass over here so we can have a good time. We're gonna see you in the studio tomorrow, anyway, so just come celebrate the commencement of the start of the new album." Nikki says after he takes the phone from me.

Mick says something and Nikki grins.

"Alright, bye." He hangs up. "He's in." He tells me.

"Thank you for snatching the phone from me, dickhead." I say, half-joking.

"Okay, I am this close," he holds his pointer finger and thumb centimeters apart from each other. "to bending you over my knee and beating your ass."

"Promise?" I reply, grinning, and he tugs me closer to him, but just before our lips meet, Vanity is walking--more so bursting--into the kitchen.

"Nikki, when are we hanging out?" She asks him, nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Nikki's hands dig into my hips as if he's channeling his frustration instead of being rude.

I know what "hangout" means, and I don't need him cracked out, especially not now with guests coming over soon.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Vanity." I explain to her as politely as I can.

"Why not?" She asks me.

"Just not aright now." Nikki tells her, actually more tolerant than he was earlier.

I don't know if I'm shocked because he's not being an ass to her, or because he's  turning down the opportunity to go hit a crackpipe. 

Vanity looks at me for a split second--a very short, nearly millisecond--as if I'm the fucking Devil, before it vanishes and she smiles at us.

"Okay, I'm gonna be in the bathroom freshening up." She tells us, walking in the direction of the guest bathroom, and I let out a breath when she's gone.

"You mean you don't wanna greet our guests naked, waving a gun, and accuse them of being the FBI before opening fire?" I ask him.

He just gives me an unamused look.

"I'm gonna go change before that 'ass beating' is administered." I suggest.

"Yeah, good idea."

I change, put on some makeup, and run my fingers through my hair to comb it out before stepping into the kitchen to help Nikki finish up.

I'm met with uncooked food.

"Uh...Nikki?!" I call, glancing at the clock to see it's 8:00pm.

People will be here any minute.

I go looking for him, smelling the familiarity of cocaine.

"Oh my God." I say to myself, opening the guest bedroom to see Nikki and Vanity crouched over their pipes with a mountain of blow out.

They look at me with wild eyes.

As if on cue, the doorbell rings.

"Please be someone sober. Please be someone sober." I repeat, shutting the door as I step to the door.

I open it to reveal Duff and the guys.

"I need help." I tell them, sounding panicked. "Nikki and Vanity's cracked out."

"Um, w-we were gonna ask you for help." Duff tells me.

"What, why?"

They move over and I see Tansy, shaking a little.

"Are you--"

Before I can finish, a familiar "BANG" is sounding through the house and is joined with a loud, ear-shattering shriek of glass breaking, and we hit the ground, Duff securing me under him before a second shot is fired, breaking more glass, causing Tansy to start screaming and crying from under Axl and Steven.

I thank God when Nikki doesn't shoot again, instead the sound of him scrambling to get to his closet, and the sound of Vanity's heels scampering along with him has me sighing with relief. I hear him slam our bedroom door, and Duff runs his thumbs under my eyes to wipe at tears that I had no idea were even coming out of me.

"Holy shit." Izzy mumbles. 

"Are you okay?" Duff asks me and I nod as he helps me up.

"Tansy?" I ask her gently, she's got her hands over her ears, tears streaming down her face.

Axl carefully steps into the house as I continue to reassure Tansy.

"Uh, Viv?" Axl asks.

"I got it, Viv." Steven tells me, trying to calm Tansy down.

I follow Axl into the house, and I'm taken back by the sight of our entire ceiling in the living room shattered over our couches, the carpet, the coffee table, the T.V., it's a giant sheet of sparkling, sharp, shards of mirror.

It seems like forever just staring at the damage done to my house, and I'm unable to get words to come out of my mouth.

"Dude, is Tansy alright?" Tommy's voice sounds at the door and we snap around to see him.

I hear Heather and Sharise outside before Vince comes in behind Tommy, their brows raising at the sight of the mess.

"Hooollllyyyy..." the blonde singer drags out.

"You alright?" Axl asks me, and anger rolls through me, my teeth grinding together.

"Viv?" Tommy adds.

"Doc. Bob. Now." Is all I'm able to say.

"On it." Tommy doesn't waste a minute stepping through the glass to get to the phone in the living room while Axl tugs me back outside to avoid murdering Nikki.

That was the first straw that began the process of breaking the camel's back.

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

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Thirty-Six

Table of Content or Part Thirty-Five

Read on wattpad here.

Word count: 3.3k

Warning(s): Explicit language, drug abuse, explicit sexual situations

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"If you weren't such an asshole, he wouldn't have to take up for me!" I bark at Nikki as he tipsily stumbles around, ranting at me about my "fucking friend not minding his own god damn business" nearly a week ago, as the guys and Doc just look on, not knowing what the hell either of us are talking about.

"I'm an asshole?! Like you don't get me riled up and then play victim?!" He throws at me.

"Like it takes very much to get your tweaked-out ass riled up!" I point at him.

"Bitch!" He sneers out.

"Fuck up!" I hiss back.

Duff wasn't even out of line with Nikki. He had kept calm and advised Nikki to cool down and then come back and talk to me instead of getting himself and me upset.

Nikki hadn't let on if he minded Duff's intervening to defend me, until a week later, because he was taking it as Duff trying to tell him how to be married to me as if he knew me better than Nikki did, which wasn't at all Duff's intention.

Compared to the number I've seen Duff do on guys during a fist fight, Nikki was lucky he didn't lay him out in the driveway. However, he would eventually know what it felt like to be punched in the face by Duff during the "Girls" tour.

Duff was good at keeping his cool until the people he cared about became involved, and if he had been drinking a lot--which, towards the early 90s, that was the case--his temper could surpass mine, and he worried less about legalities and just started decking people as hard as he could.

I knew he struggled with the band, they weren't as close, Steven had been replaced by Matt Sorum, Izzy got sober and began distancing himself to stay sober, and to top off the disconnect from each other, Axl had become God in his own mind, which caused the fans, the band, and the people around him to suffer.

Once I realized his drinking and drug use became so overzealous, our agreement which was arranged out of court, that each of us have two weeks with Monroe a piece, became an arrangement that I had sole custody but took Monroe to visit his father for a few days out of the month. Duff was struggling so badly to keep it together with his mental health, addiction, and ailing of his band, that he didn't really notice I had our son more than he did.

If he had been a baby and wouldn't remember his father throwing back Solo cup after Solo cup of vodka, putting cocaine in the end of his cigarette and smoking it, and not acting like himself, I would have just left Monroe in the care of Tansy (since she was fully sober then) and let him stay around for two weeks.

But he was four when Duff started speeding down hill, and he was picking up on when his dad wasn't talking right and when he was acting weird, everything he saw that no one knew he was paying attention to...then he'd come back to me and Nikki after visiting and tell us about everything he had absorbed like a sponge: uncle Izzy traveling separately from the band, Dad being really cold and shivering until he got some water, uncle Axl not singing until a lot of people went home...that's when I decided to cut back time spent with his father and accompany him through his visits.

At first I thought I would be fine staying the two weeks out of the month with Monroe, but Axl and I couldn't quit fighting a majority of the time (because he was a jackass) and I came to the conclusion that Duff had enough on his plate and didn't need me to add to it by trying to punch Axl every chance I got for two weeks straight. So I cut it back to about five days out the month while they were on tour. When they weren't touring and I didn't have to be around Axl, Monroe and I would stay with Duff for about a week and a half.

Being that Nikki was more conscious than Duff, he took up where Duff had left off in the fathering department from '92-'94. This isn't me bashing the dad of my first child, either. Duff is and always will be a phenomenal father, but he stumbled for a few years, leaving Nikki to become the father Duff was supposed to be until Duff got his shit together, like Duff became the man for me that Nikki was suppose to be until Nikki got his shit together.

"Um..." Vince says, causing the both of us to glare at him. "...Can we rehearse now?"

He, Tommy, Mick and Doc were all patiently waiting for Nikki and I to finish our quarrel.

"Yeah." I sigh out. "Have a good rehearsal. I'll be at Tansy's." I head to the door.

"I hope you crash." Nikki gets one last jab in.

"I hope you OD." I leave them with the slamming of the studio door and step to my car.

Of course I didn't actually want him to OD, I just wanted to hurt him. And I did.

By the time it was time for the U.S. tour of Theater of Pain, our hands were being pinned behind our backs, and Doc was giving us a "get along or there's no Vivian Sixx on the tour" promise.

Although we were in the middle of a small battle and wanted nothing more than for the other person to wave their white flag and beg for forgiveness, Nikki didn't want to imagine going months without seeing me, and I was scared if I wasn't on tour to keep an eye on him, he would take his issues too far.

So we made up for the sake of each other's sanity, but again, never discussed what exactly happened to make us fight to begin with, and just harbored resentment we didn't realize we were holding onto until we started taking it out on each other later on.

The tour starts in upstate New York, then to Connecticut, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and all went great...until Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

Nikki's coming to the side of the stage where me and his tech are standing, and I think he's reaching for some water while Tommy plays his drum solo, but before I can reach down and grab a bottle from the cooler behind me, Nikki's saying words I always dread hearing.

"Help me, dude." He tells his tech, starting to pull his arm out of his navy and white polka-dotted costume.

"What?" I ask Nikki, before my face pales, seeing him pull a needle out of his boot, and a spoon before handing the lump of tar to him. "You cannot be fucking serious?" I spout over the booming of Tommy's playing.

"Nobody out there can fucking see me, Viv, chill out." He tells me as a piece of tar is melted down with a lighter underneath the spoon.

The fact that it's so casual for him to do this in front of me, is startling.

"Nikki, this can't wait?" I try to reason with him as the spoon is discarded to the floor once the gold is sucked up through the needle.

The syringe is handed back to him, and Tommy's solo is nearly over.

I have to squeeze my eyes shut and turn my head as Nikki plunges the needle into his skin, throws up, then stumbles back on stage, nearly missing his cue.

When the drugs started to override his need for a great performance, I knew he was gone.

I get out of the shower, ringing my hair out and running my fingers through it, hearing the phone in the hotel room ring.

When I go to answer it, Nikki and Tommy are grabbing at it, shewing me away.

"Hello?" They both obnoxiously say and I roll my eyes.

The person on the other side of the phone says something.

"Oh, hey, Duff." Nikki smirks, glancing at me and I give him a "you better be fucking nice" look.

"Hey, Buddy." Tommy adds.

"Viv? Yeah, she's here." Nikki tells him and I step to them, reaching my hand out to grab the phone, thinking he's going to give it to me. "Well, she can't really talk right now with my dick down her throat."

My eyes bug out of my head as I tackle Nikki and yank the phone from him while he and Tommy laugh loudly.

"Hello?" I ask.

"Hey, s-sorry to interrupt but I was just gonna call and check how it's been going." Duff replies.

"It's great." I assure him, leaving out the heavy drinking and drug binge Nikki and Tommy have been on.

"How's Nikki been? Is he still pissed at me?"

"No, no, he's been..." I think of what to say. Shooting heroin on stage? Coked out and shooting Jack Daniels with Tommy? "...great." I finally say, seeing Nikki and Tommy biting each others ankles like dogs.

"I'm sorry again if I overstepped, Viv. I didn't mean to, I just got a little pissed." He tells me.

"Duff, he's fine, I promise." I state, seeing Tommy and Nikki start wrestling, completely oblivious to my conversation. "It's fine. I'm use to his tantrums."

"I don't think that's healthy, Viv." He tells me calmly and I let out a breath.

"He's just stressed out, they all are. It'll get better once this tour is done."

"And what happens next tour?" He asks me.

Nikki's affair is outed on television, I try to kill him, your band comes on tour with them, and you get me knocked up...

"I'm hoping he'll be over this hellion phase by then." I admit, Tommy and Nikki each have handfuls of each other's hair, yanking on it, still not paying me any attention.

"Maybe it's not my place, but from outside looking in, I'm worried about you, Viv."

"I know, I know, but there's no need to." I reassure him.

He let's out a breath, knowing he can't win, and gives up for now.

"I feel like the fucking brick wall you argue with." He tells me and I smile, rubbing my lips together, before seeing Nikki and Tommy finish their play fighting, standing up, looking like they're about to leave.

"Hey, I gotta go but I'll call you when we get to the next city, alright?" I tell him.

"Oh, yeah, that sounds good." He replies. "Goodnight, love you."

"Love you, too." I reply before hanging up just as Nikki and Tommy sneak to the door. "Where do you two think you're going?" I ask and they freeze.

"Uh, well..." Tommy stutters to come up with an excuse, but Nikki just doesn't give a shit.

"Score some stuff." He tells me and I cross my arms over my towel.

"Nikki--"

"Tommy, can you give us a second?" Nikki says it like the answer can't be "no."

Tommy just raises his brows a little and nods.

"Sure, man, I'll be in my room when you're ready." He tells him, stepping out.

Nikki shuts the door behind him and I wait for him to start a fight, my brow raised, an expression of "can't wait to hear what audacious bullshit comes out of your mouth this time" is plastered all over my face when he turns around.

As far as I can tell, he hasn't snorted, shot up or smoked anything in the past hour and a half, which means I'm not facing the absolute devil that goes by the name "Sikki" and is Nikki's evil, drug loaded, irritable, mean, scary, abusive, demonic, sadistic, cruel, vindictive, disgusting alter-ego.

Nikki rolls his jaw a little with each step to me, but I don't cower back, waiting for him to say whatever it is he is going to say.

His hands bunch at my towel, pulling me against him.

He doesn't say a word, and I keep my arms crossed until he holds back the inkling of a smirk, leaning down to press a small kiss where my shoulder and neck meet.

I know what he's doing, because I do it to him all the time: using sex to get what he wants.

I bite my tongue to keep from moaning when we realizes I'm not budging and ups the anti, the tip of his tongue making slow, figure-eights in the same spot.

I feel like someone's knocked the back of my knees loose with a baseball bat, and I have to uncross my arms and hold tightly to him to keep from falling down.

He completely engulfs me in his arms at the sound of me letting out a whimper, my fingers grabbing at his hair, my legs rubbing themselves together to aid some relief.

His hands pull at my towel, discarding it to the floor, pressing his lips along my chest, over my breast, running his tongue around my nipple skillfully.

Hands run themselves between my legs while teeth carnally tug and bruise my skin, sending a wave of heat from my chest to my dripping core.

His mouth moves to my other nipple, but my real undoing is when his teeth trail down to the rib below my right breast, and bite down.

I gasp out, arching into him, my head tips back as he adds a bruise to the skin there that's already scarred with his teeth imprints collected over the years.

He smooths his tongue over the bite before trailing down my stomach, pressing to my pubic bone.

He pulls one of my legs over his shoulder as he gets on his knees, pressing gentle kisses down my inner thigh.

My chest is heaving with loss of breath as he looks me in the eyes and runs tongue from my entrance to my clit.

I dig my nails into his hands that hold steady at my waist as the slick sound and euphoric feeling of his tongue lacing back and forth and side to side against the sensitive nerve endings.

He pulls away for a moment, only to spit between my legs and suck it off my pussy, making my one standing leg go numb at the sensation.

Shallow pants leave my mouth as I start moving in rhythm with him, one of my hands reaching for his hair, pulling at it.

He takes one of his hands from me before rubbing it against my folds, getting his fingers wet, and sliding them into me.

The thick, fullness has my walls tightening around the two digits, eager to please myself as his tongue massages my clit, and my fingers come up to play with my own nipples.

"Nikki." I let out shakily, his fingers curling inside of me, pulling back out, pushing back in only to repeat. "Fuck, you do it so good." I praise hoarsely, one of my hands going back to his hair.

His tongue picks up it's pace, sending my heart rate into overdrive as his fingers keep up with the pace.

He knows exactly what he's doing, smirking up at me when his fingers hit the spot, my throat unable to contain the loud but curt moan that the people in the room next to us can probably hear as I milk his fingers as if they're his cock and my orgasm gets closer and closer.

He pulls his mouth away, licking his lips, before using the pad of his thumb from his other hand to rapidly rub at my swollen flesh.

I grip around his fingers so tightly it falters his ability to move them as well, and he lets out a little groan.

"I wish I could be three places at one time." He comments.

If he could be three places in me at one time I would be wrapped around him 24/7.

"C'mon, Viv, I'm getting really thirsty here." He says gruffly, that fucking smirk pulling at a corner of his mouth, as I throw my head back, letting out another loud moan, so close to my end I can taste it.

His hazel eyes looking up at me in adoration as I curl my toes and come so hard I see black dots.

He's taking his fingers out of me, grabbing at my ass with both hands, pulling me into him and licking every last drop of cum from me before I collapse on top of him, the both of us landing on the floor.

He let's out a laugh as I try to catch my breath, my chest pressed against his, my hands holding at his biceps.

"Are you okay?" He asks me, proudly, and I nod.

"I just need a minute..." I can barely get out in a rasp.

After about five minutes, I'm getting off of him and pulling myself onto the foot of the bed.

He stands up, too, stepping to my suitcase, tossing me one of his shirts he gave to me.

"Thank you." I say to him quietly and pull it on and when he pulls his jacket on, I know he's about to go out to get some more smack.

This terrifies me and tears come to my eyes.

"I'll be back in..." He stops talking, furrowing his brows, looking at me. "...Viv?"

I shake my head a little, waving him off.

"I'm fine, babe." I try to tell him.

"Vivian, why're crying." He asks me.

"I-I think I'm about to start my period." I lie, sniffling. "I'm just being over-emotional."

"Are you sure?"

I nod.

"I'll be back in a couple hours, alright?"

I nod again.

"Alright, I'll see you later." He tells me, wiping my tears with his thumb before pressing his lips to mine for a few seconds, and walking out the door.

When I envisioned my life when I was little, getting married at nineteen, having three miscarriages by the time I was twenty-one, having an addict husband, and spending a majority of my nights sleeping alone—which is one thing I absolutely hated to do—was not at all how I dreamt of my life being when I grew up.

But there I was.

Night after night.

City after city.

Alone.

In pain.

Broken.

Silent.

With not a single soul knowing about it.

It's been four hours and Nikki still isn't back.

Restless, I turn over to read the digital alarm clock.

4:02a.m.

Sighing out, I get out of the bed and go to my suitcase to grab a pair of panties and slip them on, before grabbing one of Nikki's shirts from his bag that smells like him.

I leave the hotel room and head next door to Vince's room, knocking on the door.

After several attempts, the door opens to reveal a very confused, half asleep, blonde girl that isn't Sharise—who's baby is due any day now.

"Hi." I say, hushly, pushing past her. "Did you guys do anything in the bed?" I ask her once I'm standing by the bed and she rubs her eyes, still in a haze.

She mumbles something that sounds like "the shower" and I hold out my room key to her.

"You can go sleep in my bed. Room 223." I say.

She doesn't ask questions, she just wants to go back to sleep.

Once she shuts the door, I'm patting around the mattress to avoid laying on Vince.

I slip in where she was, Vince's back to me.

I seperate his naked body from me by laying on top of the sheet, just letting the comforter guard me from the cool air from the vent, and actually snuggle closer to him, my forehead pressing against his back as I hold Nikki's shirt close to me like it's my sacred baby blanket, and drift off.

#nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #mötley crüe #the dirt