#but I have smartasses in the tags like 'oh yeah? I'd like to see a red light cast a green shadow' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sharksa-shivers · 7 months

Text

Nucleo dialog dump because i 💚you radiation boyo

Coworker: (pinches nose, annoyed)Nathan, aren't you in your 30s? Why are you painting your nails and believing in childish things like aliens? What's wrong with you?

Nucleo:(glances over, sighs before turning around and responding) You're bout 48 right? Why are you already such a stick in the mud? Kids don't call you anymore do they? Ever wonder why that is? Cuz i can take a couple guesses…

Coworker:(he kind of sneers, obviously Nucleo hit a nerve, we see Nucleo kind of smirk, tries to rebuttal back)You're one to talk! You don't even have kids!!!! 30 with nothing!!! No wife, no house, no kids, nothing!!!!

Nucleo:(amused)Cuz i have other priorities…Like finding aliens and collecting metal albums cuz that's what i wanna do…(shrugs)I mean…I'm happy and you seem miserable so i mean, i must be doing something right, yknow? --------- Nucleo:(Frustrated as hell, driving The Trio derps back to The Campsite)What is it with you kids and getting yourselves into insane trouble all the time huh??? Literally i just…(inhales and exhales, collecting himself, annoyed)Look…I literally just like…I just want to have a normal Thursday afternoon at work. Do my job, help people, get paid, all that good shit…I get off at 5, wanna order take out sushi, pick it up, go home and then watch shitty cheesey alien movies from the 80's okay? That's all i want…That's it! But fuckin…Everyday, it's something!!! You get yourselves into something or Orange drags me into something or just SOMETHING!!!! IT'S ALWAYS SOMETHING!!!!!!!

(It's quite til Max speaks, being a smartass)

Max:(immediately wrecks this merman)…Why do you agree to do all of Orange Hair's crap then? Is it cuz you just…Like being her bitch or…?

Nucleo:(he slams on the breaks and just sits there, The Trio derps all just looking nervously at him and each other…Nucleo just looks like he's about to fucking snap, quite as he just anxiety laughs)…I…We're moving on. No more fucking talking. Shut up. ------ Nucleo:(enraged)No???? What the hell???? Orange, they're kids, they're teenagers, they DON'T need to be doing this!!!!

OH:(shrugs)I mean…Max likes it so…

Nucleo:(huffs out a breath, annoyed and irritated)Max likes alot of shit he shouldn't like, he tried to hack into multiple bank accounts the other day…

Max:(just overhearing)YOU GUYS KNOW THAT I CAN HEAR YOU RIGHT? AND THAT I'D 1000% DO THAT AGAIN???

Nucleo:(yelling back)STAY OUT OF THIS, GOD!!! (Back at OH, angry)You can't just be forcing these kids to do all this dangerous stuff, they should be at the movies and fucking around at the mall, not delivering LITERAL BOMBS ACROSS TOWN FOR YOU!!!!!!! ---------- (Tis the group trip with The Trio and Nucleo where he's tagging along to help with some shit. Max and Kristy are talking about horror movies and shit while Sharky's focusing on driving and Nucleo's just scrolling on his phone.)

Kristy:(she pops over the seat a bit, curious)Wait actually, Hey Nucleo, what would happen to you if you got bit by a zombie? Like…Would it actually do anything to you with your disease immunitys or…?

Nucleo:(he sits there, thinking, befuddled)…I…I actually don't know, huh…(sits a moment, thinking)…….Well, i guess that's another paranoia to add to the list. I'd like to say like…I wouldn't get infected but i honestly have 0 clue so????

Max:(gazing at Kristy)Ah yeah, nice, ya broke the man by asking…

Kristy:(awkward)I wasn't trying to!!! I just was curious!!!!

Nucleo:(trying to break it up, a bit mentally construed from the question now)It's fine! It's fine! That actually is a really great question, i just have no idea what the answer is, uhhhh, let's hope we never find out the answer either, huh??? ------------- (Having a convo, probs more early series)

Kristy:(curious)Wait, how old are you Nucleo?

Nucleo:(thinks a moment) 30…No, wait, 31 now. Damnit!!! I'm getting old, can't remember shit anymore…

Sharky:(pipes up)How is 30 old when you literally live like 10,000 years or some crazy shit cuz you're a mer?

Nucleo:(gazes annoyed, a bit exaggerated)Yknow what??? Leave me alone!!!! I don't need that crazy lifespan thrown in my face again!!! I already got enough worries with my life and having to live that long isn't one i wanna talk about right now!! -------- Nucleo is a drummer metal head, a medical scientist of some sort, hardcore believes in aliens, helps The Trio derps, puts up with OH and is one of the main people who will stand up to her, helps his mom regularly with different things and is a merman who has disease immunitys and poison immunitys, idk what else you'd want in an oc honestly... Also his "human" name is Nathanal Raymond Anderson (Cuz humans are gonna look at you sideways if you have a name like...Nucleotitan lol...) I have more shit with him i wanna share so get ready for that lol, i love him so much, i swearrrrrrrrrrrr lolololol

There he is, my son that is literally older then my ass cuz he's in his 30s, here he is lol

#kidnappedseries #kidnappedseries dialog stuff #Nucleo #Nucleotitan

1 note · View note

light-is-typing · 2 years

Text

Special Afternoon

Dwayne Hoover x Gn!reader

Word count: 1.5K

Summary: You come over to watch a show with Dwayne

Tags/warnings: nothing but fluff :))

A/N: ahh first time posting a fic here

"Hey y/n, you wanna come over today? We could watch a few episodes"

Dwayne was of course talking about you guys' regular tv show you watched together. You've developed a habit of coming over to his house to watch it every so often, 'course you never actually understood what it was about, since the show was just an excuse.

An excuse to get closer to each other, to feel time freeze in place.

You were no strangers to each other's touch, having grown up together, but something about these lazy afternoons made every brush of your skin against his special.. Different. Something about the hazy orangy-yellow light coming from his window made everything seem like a daydream.

"I'd love to!" You smile at him, and his cheeks, which quickly turned pink, flushed a smile back.

You don't really remember exactly when you started having this kind of effect on him, but you don't complain, if you were as white as he is, he'd be able to tell that he made you just as flustered. Having a crush on your best friend seemed awfully cheesy, and undoubtedly he'd tease you to no end if he knew. Sometimes, it'd look like he liked you back, evident by the pink coloration now coloring his ears too, and, well, your special afternoons together. Oh, right. You're drawn out of you're thoughts as you snap back to reality, startled by the bus's noise as it starts to move out of the parking spot, you realize you're somehow sat next to Dwayne in the back of the bus. Wow, you really do get lost in your own thoughts.

Dwayne looks like he's lost in thoughts too though. You can't help but staring, as the sun lights his green eyes, making him look so dreamy and content. He's listening to an audio book, probably some smartass stuff- 'course you like him for having smartass interest, you find it amusing, honestly you could listen to him for hours on end, rambling about his favorite philosophers.

"Y/n"

"Hm?" You're once again brought back to reality, this time by Dwayne's voice.

"You were staring" oh, yeah.

"Oh, yeah." You're huffing out an embarrassed chuckle. "Sorry, I was just thinking"

"Thinking" he smiles playfully. "What about?"

"Oh, I just can't wait to get to your house already! I'm dying to give Olive the painting I drew for her". That wasn't a complete lie, you were excited to see her reaction to the painting you made especially for her birthday.

"She's gonna love it" Dwayne says honestly.

"Can't believe my best friends is the best artists out there."

"Shut up" you say, hitting his shoulder softly; that familiar pink color is slowly heating his face again.

Finally, the bus stops. You rush out of the hot steady air in the bus, and breathe in the familiar smell of Dwayne's neighborhood. Dwayne follows you shortly, and hands you your school bag you forgot in your hurry. None of you say anything, but his eyes are teasing you, and yours shut them up.

"Olive!" You call when you enter the house. Dwayne's little sister is sitting on the couch watching a cartoon. As soon as she hears your voice she's rushing to you, and you hold her up, giving her a big hug. "Happy birthday kiddo!". She's giggling when you put her down. You catch a glimpse of Dwayne, his eyes are brightened up, he looks as if he's proud of your relationship with Olive. You kneel down in front of her and take the painting out of your bag- it shows her in her favorite costume on a stage, holding an award; you'd drawn it when you heard she won her local beauty pageant, and although you weren't a big fan of them, you liked that she had a dream.

Olive looks at the painting and you hear her squeal before she even opens her mouth. "Oh thank you thank you thank you!" She is practically dancing as she holds the drawing In a hugging motion, careful as to not tear it though. You can hear Dwayne giggle as his mom is coming out of the kitchen to greet you.

"Hi, y/n" she smiles at you.

"Hi, it's very nice to see you" you greet her back. Dwayne is now tugging your sleeve, motioning at his room. "Sorry" you smile at her apologeticly, and you let Dwayne drag you into his room.

"Finally." He huffs as he closes the door and opens the drawer in which he keeps his laptop. He puts it on the bed and you glance at the stickers decorating it, showing images and little drawings of jets and the sky. You get comfortable on his bed, as you put your favorite pillow behind your head, knowing you won't need it for long, as you'll have something else to rest your head on. Dwayne grins at you as he climbs onto the bed, laying next to you and opening the episodes he has saved. You slowly rest your head on his shoulder and he sighs in relief, as if he's worried every time he's scared you off and you won't do that again.

The opening song starts to play, and you shove yourself closer to him, until your hands touch. You guys have held hands before, but you were never sure if it's the right time, or if he understands its meaning differently than you. Nevertheless, your index finger starts to trace his thumb softly, and you can hear a soft inhale as he tenses next to you. "Sorry" you murmur, you feel an uncomfortable sense of shame as you've misread the situation.

"No, no, don't be!" He blurts out almost too desperately. "Ah" he realizes how loud he was and gets red again "sorry, I mean, I liked it" he gestures to your hand. You feel a relieved smile washing over you as you lay your head on his shoulder again. You scoot closer to him and let your body relax again as you take his hand in yours. He makes a soft noise again, but you can feel his fingers wrap around you and it makes you feel loved, cared for. Dwayne had always made you feel this way, he just felt like home.

You then become aware of his hand slowly petting your hair; this had only happened a couple of times before- it seemed that as the days go by he gets more and more brave with his physical affection, and you had no complaints. You give his hand a light squeeze, reassuring him that you liked his touch, that you liked him. His finger traces your face now, brushing your jawline, your cheeks, the bridge of your nose - you hold your breath. You've never been this intimate with each other, and a million thoughts run through your head as you try to keep as quiet, as still as you can, to not ruin the moment. Does he actually.. Nah, of course not.. Or does he? you look up slowly, and you inhale softly as you catch him looking at you. He goes beet red now, like he's been caught doing something he's not supposed to do, but your eyes, lazy as if you were intoxicated by his touch , look at him and he can't think, he can't even be embarrassed, he just wants to lean in and..

Suddenly your face is very close to him, and he's startled at first because he didn't move at all- and now you're running your hands through his hair, and the hairs on the back of his neck rise. You move your hands lower to hold the sides of his face, and as you look deep into his eyes, you can see the sunlight shine through them again. And maybe that was it - that weird spell that made you act on your thoughts, maybe it was the sunlight that made you both feel like you're dreaming, as your thumb slowly brushes his parted lips, and he's gasping softly; maybe it was the magic of the moment that made you lean in and allowed you to feel the same lips with your own now, so soft and.. Eager for more? It couldn't be, but it was, he was kissing you back, and he's now cupping your face with his hands.

The kiss feels like it lasts forever, but eventually you guys are brought back to reality by Dwayne's mother, who yells at him to help her get the cake from the car. None of you say anything, but your eyes are locked in place as you take in this special moment.

Finally, red faced and short of breath, Dwayne speaks up.

"Will you-"

"Yes. Yes!" You breathe out, your thoughts still hazy and slow, but you know what he's asking, and he knows your answer.

"Then it's time I reintroduce you to my family"

#dwayne hoover #dwayne hoover x reader #dwayne hoover fanfic #paul dano #riddler #riddler fanfic

296 notes · View notes

xxisxxisxxis · 3 years

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Eighty-Eight

Very late, I'm sorry, I just couldn't post it without tweaking things here and there because I'm a little bitch that wants to get this right. I hope everyone has had a good Christmas!!

Words: 4k

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

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

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

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED

"It's not a death sentence, Viv." Sharise assures me in the back of the limo.

"I've really been a lunatic, Sharise, and it's not just because people have overexaggerated about how I've been acting--it's because I've actually been fucking crazy." I state as she sips her champagne. "I have a diagnosis and new medication to prove it."

"Is it ever gonna go away?" She asks me next, furrowing her brows a little.

"Nope, but it sure as shit can get worse." I tell her. "There's two strains of it and I have the second one which is just shorter spells of mania--a.k.a being a fucking looney tune--and leaning more depressive--a.k.a staying in bed for three months straight and not wanting my husband to touch me despite just getting married."

"You're not crazy." She argues, lightly kicking at my leg with her heel. "You just have an imbalance in your brain. It's annoying, yeah, but you're not crazy."

"I just don't want Nikki to leave me over this. Nothing screams stable marriage like bipolar disorder and heroin addiction."

"Shut up, you're okay, Nikki's okay, you guys will be okay." She assures me.

I think back to what his therapist wants us to do Wednesday...I can't tell him I'm pregnant. I haven't even told Duff and he should be the first one I tell.

I feel like as soon as I tell Nikki, it really will be over.

I get nauseous, my mouth watering.

"I need air." I pull the sunroof back and stand up, try to calm down, my eyes closing and my head leaning back as we stop at a red-light.

I hear the obnoxious rumble of a motorcycle coming to a stop in the lane beside us, and groan.

"Whew!" I hear a familiar voice call. "Your old man let you outta the house?!" Robbin yells over his the noise of his bike and I look over.

"He's in rehab!" I reply.

"No shit!" He chuckles. "Whatcha doin'?!"

"Getting some air!"

"There's plenty of air over here!" He informs me. "Come get on!" He gives a grin.

"I'm good!"

"Oh, c'mon, Viv, I've only had a couple shots!"

"Couple shots of what, is the question!" I reply.

"I'm not high!" He states. "Come on!"

I look at him, considering it.

"You look too damn good to be riding around in a blacked out car where nobody can see you!" He adds and I roll my eyes. "Come get on the damn bike, Viv, a couple blocks won't kill you!"

I rub my lips together, seeing that the light is gonna turn in a minute.

"You're gonna get me in trouble!" I say, going to pull my heels off.

"Not much more than what you're already in!" He says back.

I sigh out and start to climb out of the sunroof and he puts his fingers in his mouth and whistles loudly before he ignores the cars behind him and kicks the stand of the bike down, coming and grabbing my waist to help me down the car.

"You look like sex on ten-foot legs!" He adds and I shake my head, pushing at him playfully as we get on his motorcycle.

"Where the hell are you going?!" Sharise pokes her head out of the roof.

"I'll catch up to you in a minute!" I tell her.

"Viv--" the light turns green and Robbin doesn't waste any time with getting gone, cutting Sharise short.

I don't know if it's the loudness of the bike, mixed with the wind and Black Sabbath blaring through speakers I'm assuming he managed to beg someone to build into the Harley, or him smelling like a bar, so I know he's probably drunk and I'm focused on not getting myself killed, but I manage to get my mind off of all the bullshit that just seems to keep getting heaped on loads at a time.

We get to the Cathouse, eventually, which is where Sharise and I were headed, and Robbin comes to a stop and parks his bike and I swing my leg back over the side and put my heels back on, reaching for the strap to buckle it, but failing.

Before I can grab it, he's crouching down and putting my foot on his knee, fastening it for me before he does the other.

"Thank you." I tell him as he finishes.

"Wouldn't want you to break a nail." He replies sarcastically.

"Ha ha, smartass." I state and he chuckles, standing up, as I think back to earlier.

"What 'trouble' am I in?" I ask him.

"You think I didn't see you come running in with Duff while Nikki was OD'ing?"

"You managed to see that while you were running out of the room to get outta dodge?" I ask him, smartly.

"I helped Slash's girlfriend for a minute while they were getting you and Duff." He explains. "I got out of there before you had a caniption and killed all of us."

"I wouldn't have killed you." I argue. "Make you wish you were dead, sure, but actually kill you, no."

He smiles a little and rubs his lips together.

"So, Nikki knows about you two?"

"Yeah."

"And he still wants to work things out?"

"Yeah...no reason for him not to when he cheated on me with Vanity, first."

He just smiles and nods.

"I'm glad you two are doing that." He tells me. "I was really bummed when I heard he'd filed for divorce."

"Well, we're not outta the woods yet." I mumble and he furrows his brows.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm knocked up, Robbin." I blurt, and he looks down at me with this expression on his face of confusion and unamusement.

"That shit's not funny, Viv." He states to me.

"I'm fucking pregnant, Robbin, I'm not trying to be funny."

I snap out of it when Robbin repeats his question, "what do you mean?"

"Oh, sorry...I don't know...I forgot what I was gonna say." I say next, wishing I could actually tell him I'm pregnant.

When we get inside and get to VIP, Sharise is sitting with her arms crossed, brows raised at me when I sit down.

"What?" I ask her.

"You ditched me for a boy." She tells me, pouting.

"I didn't ditch you." I reply.

"You so ditched me."

"...Yeah, I did." I admit, smiling and she nudges me with her elbow, saying, "you better be glad he's cute or I'd be more pissed over it," and I laugh as she finishes her drink.

After a night of dancing and pretending I'm not reaping the consequences of my exponential crisis, I'm dropped off at home.

When I get inside, I see flowers on the small table in the foyer, and smile a little, seeing the little card that reads, "VIVIAN."

I pluck the paper from the vase and turn it over to read it.

See you Wednesday

—Nikki

My smile grows wider before slowly falling.

I'm not sure he'll even want to be with me after Wednesday.

I feel guilty because I know he's probably decently looking forward to getting all of this over with and starting over, yet here I come with a damn baby.

Putting the card back with the flowers and placing them on the kitchen counter, I go to my bathroom to get a shower.

Once I'm done, I'm staring at myself in the mirror, studying to see if there's any noticeable changes…

My boobs are slightly bigger, nothing too, too obvious--I guess Doc's observant.

I do look like I'm glowing a little bit, but I can blame that on starting fresh with Nikki and how happy I am because of it.

I open the bathroom drawer and pick up the little ultrasound picture I had taken.

A sick part of me has been hoping I'd miscarry by now so I wouldn't have to turn mine, Nikki's and Duff's lives into a shitshow, but I was told the baby's healthy.

I'm not sure why the hell my body refused to grow anything in it, I guess I should've looked into it after my third miscarriage in a row, but I didn't want to pry at myself. I just wanted to forget I was pregnant at all.

I regret that, now, though...I don't want to get a couple months in and BAM! no more baby, like in the beginning of '86. I should've looked into it earlier and so I could have figured out what was causing it so I couldn't let it happen anymore.

Despite us not speaking in years, I was certain my mother had, indeed, still managed to screw me over one last time. My uterus was septated and had gone unnoticed in ultrasounds for years--either by the hands of shitty technology or shitty technicians and doctors that didn't say anything about it. Apparently it was a genetic mutation that women could be born with and was a mystery in itself, but a part of me always blamed my mom.

September 1987

"Wait, wait, wait," I chuckle, Duff's lips on my neck.

Before I even realize what's happening, my back is hitting the mattress of the bed I share with Nikki while Duff's lips are tugging along the skin of my neck, coaxing a light vapor of moans from my throat while I grab at the bottom of his shirt, tugging it over his head.

Mine's next, lips pressing down my chest as his hands slide under my back to get my bra off.

My back arches to let the fabric escape, all while my hands pull at my panties, getting them down my legs before I'm kicking them off, the two of us chuckling, his lips coming back to mine while he goes for his belt buckle.

It's hard to pretend he's Nikki, like I catch my mind trying to do, because he's not as rough as Nikki is. His kiss is sweet and gentle--not weak by any means, and its still hot, but Nikki's is dominantly aggressive and attentive without even meaning to be…

"Condom," Duff says pulling his lips from mine.

"We don't have any." I tell him, catching my breath.

"...I'll see if I have some in the car."

"You can just pull out." I suggest, not wanting him to give me time to change my mind about this.

"Are you sure?" He asks me, fingertips running over my cheek.

"Yes." I grin and he slowly smiles and leans down again, kissing me.

I screw my eyes shut when he slowly pushes into me, letting out a groan under his breath while I take in a sharp breath, nails biting into his back.

"Are you okay?" He asks me, and I nod, eyes still closed.

"Yeah." I sigh out, hands grabbing at his arms, nails biting into the tattoo on his bicep as he pulls out of me and pushes back inside, huffing out a sharp breath, his forehead against mine as I lean up and kiss him, humming as he starts thrusting into me steadily, overwhelmingly so.

Unlike Nikki, he's not ferociously aggressive for the most part. He's more so gently aggressive.

I can't contain the near squeak that emits from my throat as he continues in and out of me, my arms and legs desperate to get him as close to me as possible.

The more I show that I'm feeling good, the more comfortable he gets, and the more deliberate his movements are.

"It--" I'm cut short when he pushes against my cervix, and my eyes roll back.

He's about to pull back out but I wrap my legs around him and pull him back in as I beg, "no, no, please, right there."

He looks down at me, eager to please, looking me in the eye as he pushes against it, again, a sharp shiver shuttering up my back and I cry out, arching my back when his fingers go to my clit.

My hands dig into the sheets, gasps and whimpers leaving me as he watches me, patiently, like he's studying me in the throes of stupidity and pleasure.

I'm trying to crawl away when he grins and starts hounding at me, repeatedly hitting the spot in me that has tears pooling in my eyes from pleasure.

"Please, don't stop." I ask him, my voice weak, and he sits back on his knees, pulling me onto him, grabbing my hips, guiding quick movements into me, making my thighs tense up while he looks down at my tits and the sight of him fucking me, before his eyes catch at my hip bone.

"Do you like it?" I ask him and he runs his thumb over the "D" in my skin and looks at me before kissing me, quickening his pace again, hitting my sweet spot once more several times while I tighten around him.

"Are you gonna come?" He asks me, and I nod, not able to speak.

I push him down to the mattress and straddle him before I brace myself on his chest and start riding him.

"Fuck," he says as he watches me, probably not able to believe we're having sex.

My orgasm hits me in a wave, my head back, my hands moving over his on my waist, before he sits up and pulls my lips to his hotly, our tongues dancing as he wraps his arms around me.

In a couple more minutes, he's holding me still while thrusting up into me desperately, and I feel my brain swimming on dopamine as sweat rolls down my spine.

"I'm gonna come." He tells me, shutting his eyes and licking his lips for a second before looking down at himself going in and out of me.

"Then come." I say softly, leaning forward, kissing, licking, and biting up his neck.

Duff lets out a sharp breath, his hands pulling me down onto him while he gives one last thrust into me, warmth spreading throughout me as his cum coats my insides.

"Fuck." I whimper out, my hips flexing, at the feeling.

"How the fuck could he cheat on you?" He asks me, reeling off his sex-high, his eyes running all over my glistened skin before he's sitting up, wrapping his arms around me. "You're so fucking flawless." He adds and I smile at him, brushing the hair from his face before kissing him.

Once I get off of him and lay beside him in the bed, he's looking up at our mirrored ceiling, that's recently been replaced ever since I broke it throwing a tantrum.

"That was…" I start, realizing what I'd just done, and he looks at me, his brows furrowed slightly.

"Are you okay?" He asks me, sitting up, probably thinking I'm about to cry.

"Yes, I'm fine." I assure him. "It's just strange to have sex without being left right after." I add, remembering the more times than not that Nikki would leave to go out after we got done.

"I'm not leaving." He tells me, his hand brushing against my cheek.

"I know." I reply, closing my eyes, my face resting against the pillow as tiredness creeps up on me.

He lays back down beside me, pulling me closer to him, and comfort consumes my body…

...Right before the roaring of Nikki's Harley pulling into the driveway shatters it.

I snap up, Duff doing the same.

"Is that…?" He asks me, eyes wide.

"Shit!" I whisper yell, the two of us getting out of bed.

He nearly trips, pulling his jeans back on, and I'm pulling my silk robe on, grabbing Duff's shoes, heading for the guest bedroom closet.

Once he's hidden, having to crouch uncomfortably to fit under the shelf, I'm running back to our room, spraying a few sprays of my perfume to throw off the sex smell.

I rush to the bathroom to wet a washcloth and get Duff's cum, that's leaking down my legs now, off, just as I hear Nikki's boots stomping into our room.

I finish cleaning up as fast as possible and get back out there to see him shirtless.

"H-Hey." I nervously greet him, regretting not fixing my hair from its roused state.

He glances at me and does a double take, his eyes snaking up my exposed legs before he's looking at me.

A slick smirk falls on his lips as he says:

"Whatcha been doing?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, eyes wide.

"I know what you look like post-orgasm, Viv. There's no shame in having fun with yourself." He adds and I nearly sigh out with relief. He thinks I've been masterbating. Perfect. "Infact," he steps closer, making me step back until my back hits the wall, and he puts his hand beside my head, trapping me in, "it's really hot."

I shift uncomfortably as his other hand moves to the curve of my hip, slipping under the robe to palm at my ass cheek, and I have to force myself to hold back a moan when his hand suddenly comes down to harshly give one good smack to my flesh before rubbing over my stinging skin.

"Don't stop just because I pulled up." He tells me, motioning to the messy bed. "Keep doing your thing and I'll just observe." He grins, his hand moving to my throat. "Might even get the camera out like the good ole days."

I can't seem to make myself talk, my breathing heavy, my tongue being bit between my teeth.

We stare at each other another moment before he loses his grin and runs the thumb of his other hand across my lip.

He leans down and I let out a breath.

"Nikki," I start softly, about to pull away as best as I can but he stops me, pressing his lips to mine for a second.

Our tongues meet soon after, and he's running his hands down my back, before pulling me up to wrap my legs around his waist, causing me to let out a moan as my back's against the wall while he threads his fingers through my hair.

I snap out of it when my back hits the mattress, his hands sliding under my robe to run over my stomach, up my ribs to run over my breasts before grazing down my sides.

"Nikki." I say after a moment, the two of us catching our breath.

"Take your robe off." He ignores me, pressing a kiss to the center of my chest.

"Nikki, no." I deny him. "It wouldn't be smart for us to do that."

"Why not? You've already drawn up divorce papers or something?" He stands up, pulling away from me.

"You're drunk." I bite at him, annoyed. "And what are you doing home? You don't come back home until morning, usually."

"Tommy puked on me, I had to change shirts." He says. "Not that I owe you a fucking explanation."

"Never said you did, Nikki. It was just a question."

"No, but you're looking pissed that I'm here so that's why I am."

"I'm not pissed, can you stop assuming things?"

"Whatever, Viv." He grumbles as I stand up, too.

"Yeah, whatever, Nikki."

"Oh my God, just shut the fuck u--" he stops abruptly, and I'm confused until I see he's focused on my hip bone, that's been exposed by my robe failing me when it shifts, and I see he's focused on the "D" on my hip.

He steps closer to me, angling his head in every direction to see it clearly, even laying on the carpet and looking at it from below, the same confused expression on his face.

When he gets off the floor, he's on his knees, holding at my hips to look at it from centimeters away.

"Nikki, cut it out." I scold him, trying to move away from him but he stops me.

"Ya know, the funniest thing is happening. I haven't taken anything hallucinogenic, but I swear I see a 'D' on your hip bone." He tells me and I finally get out of his grip as he stands back up, studying my expression. "Oh, hell fucking no, you did n--I know you do not have a fucking 'D' on your fucking body."

I had one in me a few minutes ago.

"It's not a 'D', Nikki."

"I may not have graduated but I know my ABCs, Vivian, and that's a fucking 'D'!"

"It's a Roman numeral for '100'!" I say back, smartly. "To represent the least number of times you fucked Vanity while we were together, so I'll never forget!"

"We're still together, Vivian!" He screams.

"Really?! Is that why you screw groupies almost every night on the road?!"

"Because I get lonely because my wife refuses to acknowledge me without screaming my fucking head off!"

"You were screwing another woman even when I wasn't perpetually angry at you, Nikki, what the fuck are you talking about 'lonely'?!"

"You know what I mean!" He yells back. "See, I can't even come home without you starting a fucking fight!"

"Then freaking get out!" I throw my hands up.

"I am!" He shouts, getting his shirt on and grabbing the keys to his bike and heading to the door and I follow him.

"Good!" I scream back.

He leaves, slamming the door, and I exhale sharply, forcing back tears, letting out a frustrated groan before throwing one of our wedding photos at the wall.

When I start back to our room, Duff is cautiously waiting in the hallway looking at me with a sad expression.

"Don't worry about it." I assure him, kissing his cheek, before stepping back to the bedroom.

"Don't worry about it." He didn't have anything to worry about then, but look at what five months did.

I shut the door of my car, looking at the apartment Duff's now sharing with Mandy, and let out a breath.

Tucking the picture of a teeny-tiny little thing growing in me into my purse, I head up and knock on his door hesitantly, hearing Mandy call, "coming!"

She opens the door and her eyes light up when she sees me, a big grin coming to her face, a softness to her sweet eyes that makes my stomach turn with nausea.

"Hey, Viv!" She greets me, stepping aside as if it's muscle memory.

Why does she have to make this so hard on me? Why can't she be a raging bitch?

"Hey, Mandy." I reply, going inside, glancing around.

"What's up?" She asks and I rub my lips together.

"I really need to talk to you and Duff." I reply and she furrows her brows.

"Are you okay?"

"Just have a seat." I tell her.

"O-Okay…" she goes to the living room and sits down. "Duff, c'mere!" She calls as I sit across from her, nervously fumbling with my hands.

"What's u--hey, Viv." He says, smiling at me as he dries his hair with a towel.

"She said she needs to talk to us." Mandy says, her tone causing him to look at me, cautiously.

"What's wrong?" He asks and I can hear my blood pressure in my ears.

"...I just...really, really, need to tell you something important." I say as he sits down.

"Alright." He clears his throat, the two of them staring at me and I realize I'm not freaking talking to them at all.

Just looking at them like a scared puppy.

"What's going on, Viv?" He asks me.

I decide maybe speaking right away is best, opening my purse and grabbing the photo, leaning forward to hand it to him.

He takes it and Mandy both look at it where I have him/her circled in a red marker, confused…

"Is this…" Mandy starts and stops, eyes shooting up at me. "Are you pregnant, Vivian?"

I swallow the lump in my throat.

"I'm pregnant." I admit out loud.

A smile comes to their faces, which throws me off completely.

"This is good, isn't it?" Duff asks me, handing the picture back, "I mean, you and Nikki are working things out and he's sobering up...I think it's a good thing, you know?" He shrugs, his smile reaching ear to ear.

"Yeah." Mandy agrees and I have to take deep breaths to keep from crying.

"Duff, Mandy," I start, my voice cracking, "Duff," I repeat and his smile slowly, very, very, slowly fades as if he knows exactly what I'm saying before I finally say, "I'm pregnant."

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

35 notes · View notes

lizzybeth1986 · 6 years

Text

Nuestra Familia (RCD MC: Astrid)

Book: Red Carpet Diaries

Rating: G

Pairing: Astrid-centric, minor Seth x Astrid

Summary: Astrid realises she doesn't know her family as well she had thought. Minor crossover with The Freshman/The Sophomore/The Junior.

Author's Note: This is a bit late for MC Appreciation Week, but I figured I'd put it out there anyway. This is my origin story for Astrid Ortega, my second RCD MC, who is involved with Seth. There's a cameo of one character from TF/TS/TJ in the end and I have a feeling you folks have already figured out who it is 😅 I used (of course) the "crossover" prompt from this list for my fic. I'm tagging @choices-mc-rules, in case they would still like to reblog this.

Translations:

Nuestra familia - "our family" in Spanish.

Chanclas - slippers/flip-flops

Tres leches cake - Typically a very moist chiffon cake soaked in a mixture of evaporated milk, condensed milk and heavy cream. Tres leches literally means "three milks".

Abuela - one of the terms used for ‘grandmother’ in Spanish.

Ita - Short for Abuelita, also used for grandmothers. Astrid calls her grandmother the former, her mom Teresa calls her grandmother the latter.

Manda Huevos - Can mean a lot of things according to context, but generally used to express a range of emotions, such as annoyance, disappointment, contempt or disbelief. In this context, Teresa means “it's not fair”.

If I've gotten anything wrong in terms of references, please do tell me, and I'll definitely fix it in the fic.

“One more foot inside my kitchen and it'll be my chanclas for you later.”

Teresa Ortega said these words to her daughter Astrid, in the same tone one would use to offer a guest some tea.

It wasn't that her mom didn't allow her kids to help with the cooking. She did. Salome was too young to do much but set the table yet but Astrid (and her big sister Letitia, whenever she was home) often pitched in to help with the meal.

But heaven help anyone who tried to help Mom with her tres leches cake.

This recipe was from Mom's Ita’s faded little diary, passed down to her by her mother on the condition that she would learn its recipes off by heart. It was her pride and joy, Mom would often say. Her baby before her actual babies came along.

And today it was even more essential Mom get this cake right. Astrid's abuela was visiting, and ever since Astrid's mother insisted on naming her Astrid (“She’s already named my first and last - at least leave the middle one to me!”) she could do nothing right.

Perhaps it would've been easier to handle if Dad wasn't Abuela's only son, if Mom had someone she could jointly ignore Abuela with, if they had cousins they could play with while the adults sorted out their issues. Or perhaps not. Still, it would have been nice to know.

“Easy, mom, I'm not going to touch your precious cake,” Astrid said, grinning, “Lemme demolish it at lunch instead.”

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't tempted, though. She could get the scent of baked cake wafting in all the way from her bedroom, and her mother was already starting to combine Carnation milk, condensed milk and 1/4th of a cup of heavy cream into a thin, but somewhat creamy, mixture.

Mom raised her eyebrows. “Why are you here, then?”

Astrid felt the muscles around her neck tense up, but schooled her face to a look of injured innocence. “What, can't I just want to talk to my mom once in a while?”

She craned her neck a little further behind Astrid, a tiny frown beginning to form between her brows. “What's that you're holding behind your back?”

Ding! The cake was ready now, just in time for soaking. Astrid let out a sigh of relief. She wanted Mom to see this wedding card, yes - it was why she came to the kitchen in the first place - but now was probably not the time for questions. Questions about family or about secrets. Not when she knew how important it was for her mother to get her weekend cakes right.

“Family” was always a big deal around the Ortega table. Dad was his mother's only child, and Mom’s parents passed on long before any of them were ever born. Her father was as annoyed by Abuela's antics as her mother was, but it never stopped him from having her visit every Sunday because “she's the only family we have left”.

It was as if he needed her to keep himself rooted, as if without her he would be floating aimlessly, no aim or identity, taking his wife and children down that path with him. Abuela knew this. By God, did she know this.

Or so I thought, Astrid said to herself, gripping the wedding card tightly and creating new creases where the word Ortega was written.

Mom was gritting her teeth now, carefully pouring the three-milk mixture over the cake and muttering to herself. “One more word about dry cake this time and I'll give her soggy toast, I swear I will.”

Astrid would have stood up last week and said something to Abuela, if only Mom would let her. It was probably a good thing Leticia wasn't around, she'd fire shots at Abuela for less. She was protective over all of them and often in the heat of the moment she'd forget she’d be landing them all in further trouble.

She was still muttering. “Wants chiffon cake. Screams bloody murder if I use box mix. What, Teresa, looking for shortcuts again?” Mom's voice was raised in an accurately nasal imitation of Abuela's voice. It was almost like she'd forgotten Astrid was there. “Then I make it from scratch like she wants. Then it's Oh Teresa this is so dry oh Teresa it tastes like sawdust. Why else do you think I use box mix, eh? You want it from scratch and you want moist. ¡Manda Huevos!”

The diatribe kept Mom occupied while she finished pouring, so Astrid kept silent. Mom needed this. This wasn't something she can say in front of Letitia (resulting in another Sunday screaming match) or Dad (what would he do?) or Salome (no way would the kid ever take Salome, language! seriously again). Mom needed someone to have her back, no matter how silently or secretly. And that someone had better be her.

“If only Linda had stayed…”

Astrid froze. “What did you say?”

Mom looked up, blinked twice, then stiffened. “Nothing. Nothing.”

Silently, Astrid handed over the card she'd been holding, all this time. She found it while searching for her dad's treasured García Lorca poetry collection, hidden between a page that exalted love and a page that mourned loss.

Mom took it from her, her eyes widening as she read the words.

LINDA ORTEGA

and

DOMINIC SANDOVAL

request the honour of your company at their wedding.

“Dad always told us he was all Abuela has, right,” Astrid said, “The only Ortega for miles around."

Mom answered by busying herself with more activity than ever. Keeping the soaked cake in the fridge. Pouring the remaining milk mixture into two glasses. Washing her hands. Washing the dishes.

“I'll do that for you,” Astrid took a plate from Mom's hands, “Just talk to me.” She grabbed a sponge and dish washing soap, cleaning vigorously. “All this time, Dad's been telling us Abuela's the only family he has, Mom. Like, he has no one else. Like, we have no sisters or brothers besides the three of us. Was he lying?”

“You're wrong,” Mom said, her voice suddenly sounding sharper, harder, “Abuela's the only family he has left. Your father didn't lie.”

“Just omitted the truth, yeah,” Astrid wished she knew how she felt about this. Right now there was so much she was feeling that she didn't exactly know where to begin. “There's no “together with our parents” above their names either. Not like yours’.”

Mom sighed, picked the card up, then held up two glasses of milk-mixture in front of her. “Take one and give the other to your sister. I have a lot of work to do.”

On any other day, Astrid would have grabbed that glass and relished its creaminess, wiping the milk-moustache off her mouth with a flourish. But today no amount of sweetness was going to take away that weird metallic taste in the roof of her mouth.

“I'm not done asking about this,” Astrid said, scowling, “to you or to Dad. If I have aunts and cousins out there, that's something I wanna know.”

Astrid did try in the weeks to come. But she never saw the wedding card again, and neither Mom or Dad ever responded when she raised the topic again. Still. It felt nice to dream.

Every time Abuela made a snide remark at lunch, she imagined her cousins there. A snarky younger girl who’d make smartass comments. A strong boy her age who’d shut Abuela up with just a glare. A nice aunt who’d take Mom's mind off all this nonsense. It didn't help much, but it felt nice.

It felt nice knowing she had company out there. Somewhere.

6 years later.

“Donuts, Iowa?” Seth’s eyes were gleaming at the prospect. He was more a bag-of-chips kinda guy most days, but he also liked having massive sugar rushes before a comedy gig.

“As long as the insides of six of those are practically spilling over with fruit jam, I'm game,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. It felt exhilarating, freeing. She hadn't felt this normal in a while - normal enough to kiss her boyfriend without worrying about paparazzo jumping out from a bush. There was a guy in a leather jacket she didn't recognize - three blocks across - looking at her like he wanted to talk, but not in a way that made her feel unsafe.

That was the nice thing about Northbridge. People looked, sure, but they were less likely to make you feel like an exhibit from a zoo.

“Wait here, yeah?” Seth said, planting a kiss on the lips instead, “I'll be back before you can finish spelling “OHIO” with your arms.”

Astrid laughed. Seth said the most Ohio things sometimes. Neither of them had had this much fun since she was offered a lead role in Tender Nothings, which was why Seth always jumped at a chance to take up gigs in Northbridge, and why he always offered to take Astrid along when she was free.

The guy from before stepped forward a few minutes after Seth entered the donut shop. The summer heat must have been too much for him - his leather jacket was now slung over his shoulders. “Um, hello. Astrid Ortega?”

He stood with his hands in his pockets, mouth pursed into a thin line, a tiny curl slipping carelessly from his hair and resting on his forehead. She caught a peek at the tail end of a bird tattoo (Owl? The tail looked pointy) on his left arm.

“Yeah,” Astrid said, wondering whether it was her or Seth he wanted to talk to, “but I don't know what your name is.”

“ Zigmund. Zig for short,” he replied, looking behind him from time to time, “My sister Lucy’s a big fan. Asked me to help her get an autograph from you.”

“Is she here?”

“Yeah. But she doesn't want to come out. She's shy.”

Ah. So that was the cherry-red blur barely hidden by that building. She learned long ago that no matter how friendly you appeared, your image would precede you and intimidate people anyway. Autographs were great, but somehow she didn't want to stop at just that.

“Would she come out now if I asked?” she gave him her sunniest smile, “Tell her I won't bite.”

Zig hesitated, then nodded. Astrid watched him walk to the other building, move his hands expressively as he tried to convince his sister to join him (from that angle he almost looks like Letitia, Astrid thought), and return with a curly-haired, starry-eyed teenage girl.

“H-hey,” she said, then blushed, clearly embarrassed by her nervousness. Silently, she hands over her autograph book. She keeps her eyes studiously away from Astrid's face. “I, um, I like mystery films, and I really, really liked Tender Nothings.”

A girl after my own heart. “Maybe you'll like Sunset Boulevard, then,” she said, smiling.

Astrid could have just signed and left it at that, but there was something about these two. Something about the way they stood together, or exchanged glances, or something, that reminded her of home. Which was silly. But it didn’t change the fact that she wanted to leave a good impression on them.

“What would you like to be when you grow up, Lucy?”

Lucy didn't miss a beat. “Ballet dancer. Like my brother.”

Astrid smiled, particularly at the look the girl gave Zig. Yes, she could see on second glance that even though some people would say he didn't have the body of a dancer, he held himself with a certain grace, a certain lightness that belied a stronger core. Hit by a sudden rush of inspiration, she quickly scribbled a little note to go with her signature, and asked Lucy to read it.

To Lucy and Zig, future (hopefully!) best ballet dancing duo in America. Be sure to save me a seat when you folks get famous. Love Always, Astrid.

“Wowwww,” Lucy whispered. Zig suppressed his smile, trying not to let how he felt show, and failed. A corner of his mouth lifted upwards, revealing an almost-invisible dimple.

The two left before Seth brought his box of donuts,but they thanked her at least thrice as they walked away.

“Wait till I tell Mom about this,” Astrid overheard Lucy tell her brother as they left, “I told you she'd be really, really nice.”

“You did,” there was a note of indulgence in Zig's voice.

"Ortegas all around the world. Wherever we're from, we're nice.”

Had Seth come out a moment later, Astrid would have probably walked up to them and asked. Perhaps asked them where they were from and their parents’ names.

But Seth was here, with donuts, and there was never a moment she could take her eyes off either.

“Do you know those two?” Seth asked her, passing her a tres leches cake donut that was claimed to be one of their best, “They looked familiar.”

“”No,” Astrid replied, closing her eyes in bliss. Mmmm. The treat was taking her back to Des Moines, back to home, back to her mother's little kitchen. “But I wouldn't mind meeting them again.”

#fanfic #red carpet diaries #the freshman #the sophomore #the junior #rcd mc #astrid ortega #seth levine #zig ortega #lucy ortega #seth x astrid #playchoices crossover #seth x mc #mc appreciation week

38 notes · View notes