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1plus1kiyoomi · 3 years

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Love Story

Oikawa Tooru x Reader

: fluff, just fluff, time-skip

“Come on, (y/n)! Why are you so slow?” Oikawa whines, already standing at your shared apartment’s entryway. “Taylor Swift won’t wait for us. Move faster!”

It was your birthday a few days ago and Oikawa gifted you with VIP tickets to Taylor Swift’s concert because he knows how much of a big fan you are of her and her music. He’s lowkey a fan too. So here you are now, still at your place, an hour away from the expected starting time of the concert. At this point, you’re not sure whether Oikawa bought the tickets for you or for himself. He could be a bigger Swiftie than you are.

“Calm down, Swiftie. Taylor won’t care if you’re late.” You roll your eyes at him before putting on the shoes that completed your outfit. He stretches his hand out to you, asking you to hold his hand. You teasingly shake your head no and he pouts, leaving your apartment first.

You follow behind him laughing. After catching up to him, you wrap your arms around his torso and forced yourself between his armpits. “You smell good.”

“No. Stay away from me. You don’t want to hold me.” Oikawa looks away from you, dragging your body along with him to the elevator. You start sniffing his underarm and he laughs, giving in to your hold. He takes your hand and intertwines it with his. “Reject my hand again and you’ll never get to hold me ever.”

“You’ll be the one suffering if that happens,” you tell in a matter-of-fact tone and it’s his turn to roll his eyes. The elevator door opens at the parking lot and Oikawa suddenly runs, leaving you to stand there confused. “Is he that excited to see Taylor Swift?”

You walk painfully slow, wanting to make fun of him. But to your dismay, he doesn’t give a reaction to your unhurried manner. Entering the car, you notice how much more fidgety he has become. But you don’t pay much attention to it and register it as his excitement for the concert.

The car ride is unusually quiet. Oikawa isn’t singing along to the song, or even paying attention to the road. He’s staring at blank space and this almost leads you to an accident. “Tooru, red light!” He steps on the brake suddenly, almost throwing you off of your seat.

“Sorry, angel. I’m thinking about the concert already.” He fakes a chuckle and clasps your hand with his. You glare at him. “I’m sorry.” Oikawa takes the back of your hand on his lips, giving it small gentle kisses multiple of times.

“Ew, your saliva,” you joke and he lets go of your hand almost immediately. You smile, forcing your hand in his.

It has always been like this. Your relationship has always been the one with playful banters and endless teasing. People would often mistake you as best friends because of that. If it weren’t for his strong desire to hold you every moment, no one would have known about your relationship. But nothing’s wrong with being best friends, too. The two of you actually prefer it that way.

Noticing how cold his hand is, you set the air conditioning of the car to lowest level. His head whips at you in concern. “Do you feel cold, angel?”

“No. But I think you are. Your hand is cold,” you point out and he becomes silent again. Not long after, you arrive at Tokyo Dome. The place is packed, but thanks to Oikawa’s professional athlete status, which is already equal to a celebrity’s, you avoid the crowd and enter the dome efficiently.

The concert starts exactly when you arrive and you hear Oikawa mumbling behind you about how you could have been actually late if you moved any slower. You stick your tongue at him before focusing back on the stage.

You’re singing along to the songs and screaming on top of your lungs, but your boyfriend is too quiet. Too quiet for someone who has been reminding you about the concert ever since your birthday. Too silent for someone who flew to Japan just to go to this concert. Right then, you finally connect the dots.

“Are you feeling sick? Do you want to go home?” You say close to his ear so he can hear you through the crowd. Cold hands but feeling hot? Restless but silent? Definitely ill.

“I’m alright,” he whispers back at you, smiling at your reassuringly. Nodding, you turn around to focus on the artist on the stage.

A familiar guitar play starts and you shout excitedly, facing your boyfriend. “It’s our favorite song!”

We were both young when I first saw you...

“I close my eyes and the flashback starts, I’m standing there,” you sing along passionately. Oikawa’s hand land on your hips and sways alongs with your hips.

“It’s a love story-”

“Baby just say yes!” Oikawa sings loudly and from his chest. You chuckle before singing again. The hands on your hips start to tremble but you’re too focused on the song you don’t notice. Oikawa’s throat is dry and it’s definitely not from singing.

While you sing along in excitement, Oikawa becomes more nervous as the song progresses. He shouldn’t mess this up. He has been planning these for months now. He practiced this way more than enough. One wrong move and his plan will surely fail.

We keep quiet cause we’re dead if they knew so close your eyes...

Oikawa looks at his left and sees his friends a few seats away from the two of you, giving him thumbs up and mouthing, ‘you can do it’ and ‘go for it’. He checks at you to see if you’ve noticed them, which you haven’t so you sigh in relief.

He stares at your enjoying figure, and gets a peek of your lovely smile and glimmering eyes. The way the lights hit you so perfectly makes his heart beat faster. That’s enough to reassure him that it’ll end well no matter how his plan goes.

I got tired of waiting. Wonderin' if you were ever comin' around. My faith in you was fading. When I met you on the outskirts of town, and I said...

This is it. He has to do it now.

You on the other hand is still singing alone, unaware of your boyfriend’s wariness. “Romeo, save me, I've been feeling so alone. I keep waiting for you, but you never come...”

Out of nowhere, he’s in front of you. Oh you surely can see him, but you’re not sure if you’re seeing him correctly. The one and only Oikawa Tooru is kneeling on one knee before you, a velvet box in hand, but you don’t even notice that because your eyes are glued on the shiny diamond ring.

Is this in my head? I don't know what to think. He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring, and said...

“Marry me, (Y/N).”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu series #hq x reader #hq scenarios #hq fluff #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu scenarios #oikawa scenarios #oikawa imagine #oikawa x reader #oikawa fluff #oikawa tooru x reader

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bitch-for-a-rainbow · 3 years

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So there's a blanddcheadcanons post that says that "Kara is the mortal avatar of Rao" and I really don't like it, especially in the context of SG 3x04 (The Faithful). At best, as was pointed out to me by a friend with whom I discussed this post, the House of El is likely blessed and somewhat sponsored by Rao, which probably doesn't do much but produce Krypton's greatest heroes, given what the word "El" **means** in Kryptonian. I'm interested in your thoughts on this (pls post your answer).

I reject the headcannon solely because if it were true it would mean Coville was right and I fucking hate that bitch.

In all seriousness, though, this is an idea I've seen a lot and I'm not a huge fan of. I don't know much about Raoism beyond what appears in the show and that which can be inferred off of the show. One thing I would point out though is that El in Kryptonian (while obviously being intended to mean God by the original comic writers) can mean Sun or Stars, and since the Kryptonians in the show are, as far as I can tell, monotheistic, and worshipped only one particular star, the El family is not necessarily named God. It would, however, signify their enormous prestige on Krypton and contribute to the famous El pride (or rather, arrogance). I’m not sure it would necessarily have to mean anything more than that-- that the Els are a respected house who have produced a variety of successful politicians, civil servants, and scientists. And (this time reaching a little bit) that they are perhaps so old and respected that their house name was once a title.

There is a certain allure to the theory, for sure. Kara is a paragon character. She always, always does what she thinks is right, regardless of the cost, personal or global, and regardless of what other people might think of it. She has a very direct moral compass, and there are only a handful of times when she doesn’t follow it, all of which involve saving Lena. Ship who you want, but it is notable that Kara routinely prioritzes Lena’s life over that of others given the rarity of that happening otherwise. She never even considered breaking Rick Thompson’s father out of prison when he kidnapped Alex, and all he’d committed was bank robbery. Kara has lines she does not cross (though murder is clearly not one of them). She is a character that has seen some of the worst that sentient life is capable of, has seen more death and suffering than most people could imagine, and she came out of it with an all-encompassing desire to protect others. She lives to give people hope. Plus, the humor of having Kara-- the one person most offended by the idea of being an Avatar of Rao-- turn out to be an Avatar of Rao is great.

But, I would also say that having Kara want to do good because she is the avatar of a benevolent god is reductive and not particularly true to her character. It is true that helping and protecting people is a large part of the core of who Kara is. But there is a difference between altruism and the self-destructive, bordering of suicidal desperation to save absolutely everyone that Kara practices. And to anyone who doubts the suicidal bit, I direct you to the season 1 finale where Kara literally goes on a goodbye tour because she thinks if she goes out to fight Non she’ll die. She still goes because she has hope, but that hope is that she can at least save Earth with her life. She doesn’t fight because she is certain in the ultimate victory of good and justice. She does it because she more afraid to lose another family than she is to die. Kara doesn’t become Supergirl and risk her own life because she believes in good, she does it because she can’t stand to listen to people suffer-- because she has suffered. To use Alex’s words in 1x13 “You fight everyday to keep people from struggling like you have.” Notably also in 1x13, Kara wakes up from the Black Mercy and her first words are “Who did this to me?” and then she goes after Non in what could arguably be described as a homicidal rage-- a rage that is fueled entirely for personal reasons, not the greater good of Earth (though that comes as an added benefit), which is.... not very befitting the avatar of a benevolent god.

A major part of season 1 is Kara dealing with grief and rage. She nearly breaks a guy's arm in episode 6 because he screamed at her for damaging his car, to hell with the children he'd almost hit with it. In season 3's Midvale flashbacks we see her first put both hands through a lunch table, then attack Jake when she suspects him for Kenny's death. She gets better at controlling it as the seasons progress, but during Crisis she very nearly melts Lex. Also not particularly godly of her.

Then there is the fact that so much of who Kara is is shaped by fear: fear of the government, fear of humanity, fear of abandonment, and fear of herself. In her civilian life, Kara is, for the most part, unnoticeable. She's polite, soft-spoken, doesn't wear a lot of bold colors or styles, and is often a pushover. As shown by her encounter with Red Kryptonite, Kara would not dress or speak the same way to people without the pressure of hiding her identity (though much of her dialogue is purely the loss of her "don't be an asshole" filter, some of it is stuff she had every right to say before and just didn't). I have always found that episode to be very interesting purely for the fact that Kara doesn't actually seem to be seeking harm on others so much as seeking their attention. Her argument with Alex is almost entirely about how much she hates having to hide and pretend to be less than she is. Kara drops Cat off the balcony and then catches her. She attacks the police when they point weapons at her but doesn't kill or even hurt them that badly, instead of destroying the car they're using as shelter. Red-K removed her inhibitions, made her angrier, yes, but if her goal was to actually hurt people, she could have done so-- would have done so, and with great ease. She goes to a public bar and uses super strength to smash bottles by flicking peanuts. Why do that at a crowded bar? Why not just flick potato chips at the windows in her own apartment?

This is Kara at her absolute worst-- but does she seek out the DEO agents who shot her out of the sky? Does she go after Maxwell Lord or Non? No. She tries to make people pay attention to her. Her most shameful and hideous desire is for people to give her respect. (Admittedly, respect gained through fear, but still.). Kara's a nice person-- much, much nicer than average-- but a lot of that "nice" is just her avoiding conflict to avoid attention.

Kara is a good person. Kara inspires people. But that is because Kara gets up every day and chooses to be good and to inspire. It's one of the reasons I enjoy Non as a villain so much-- he and Astra are Kara's narrative foils. They also remember Krypton and grieve its loss. They also were trapped in the Phantom Zone. But where Kara had the Danvers to convince her that some good people existed and would risk themselves just to help others, Non and Astra had Alura sentencing them to eternal suffering rather than helping them save their planet (through the means they thought necessary) and then landed on Earth and found it headed on the same path as the planet they'd just lost. Kara had people to help her grieve. Non and Astra were surrounded by misery. They lost hope. Kara discovered it.

Kara is the Paragon of Hope because she has been hopeless. Because she has suffered so much, seen so much, and because she chooses to believe in a better future. She didn't have hope her first time in the Phantom Zone. She didn't even have hope for a while on earth. From what we can gather, Kara's choice to start actually believing in the future was a gradual shift that occurred sometime after Kenny's death and has lasted her ever since. For Kara, hope is learned. She chose to hope and she won't let it go, and to assign that incredible victory off to her being a God is an insult to her growth and to her character.

Now I personally thought “The Faithful” handled this concept very well. 3x04 is one of my favorite episodes of television in general, let alone in Supergirl. Season 3 is my second favorite season, and that says a lot for its good episodes when the bad of season 3 is so, so very bad (To say nothing of the episode to episode production value, we have the waste of Argo, Mon El’s return as obviously he’s grown he has a beard Mon El, and whatever the hell was going on with Kryptonian genetic engineering eclipse causing witches). To this day I don’t know why Kara had magic dreams. The show did nothing to explain it and I can’t imagine up a reason.

But “The Faithful” works because it highlights the whole paragon part of who Kara is. When you realize that every person in the room of Coville’s cult is a person she has personally saved-- that hits hard. Especially since only a fraction of the people she’s saved would ever set foot inside that building with the totally not-creepy, entirely wholesome way they deliver the invitations. (“Your daughter is special. She has been chosen. As have you.”) It works because it focuses on how the average human must view Kara, the ones who don’t see her argue with her sister over potstickers and crush her phone when she gets mad. It works because of how desperately hard Kara tries to be a human. It works because the writers know that we, the audience, do not see Kara as anything but a regular person with irregular abilities: a kind and remarkably devoted person, but not a god.

#I didnt discuss it above. but Kara gets REALLY mad about Covilles whole deal #I really love watching her reaction to kryptonian artifacts #girl goes suspicion first and anger second #and it highlights her humanity #even as it puts her on a pedastal #Kara saved all these people but she will still tear her holy book from your hands #and scream at you for daring to quote it #Supergirl 3x04 #Supergirl 1x13 #Supergirl 1x20 #Supergirl #Kara Danvers #Supergirl meta #Kara Zor el #Raoism

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Don't Strauss Too Much (Crygi) - Mumu

A/N: Back on my Crygi clownery! A big thank you to the lovely @sportcox who helped me brainstorm this title <3

Summary: Gigi needs a tutor, and Crystal is happy to help her out.

Gigi Goode is going to throw herself off a cliff.

She’s been staring at her flashcards from yesterday’s music theory lecture for what feels like forever now, and she’s still no closer to memorizing the information she needs to know for her quiz on Friday than when she got here.

She and Nicky are sitting in the corner of their favourite cafe, notebooks and highlighters sprawled out on the table among cups of coffee and various sweet treats. Normally, the cozy atmosphere always puts Gigi into a good mood, but today she’s far too stressed to enjoy the experience. She has a week to memorize a whole chapter’s worth of material. So far she’s wasted most of her time just staring blankly at her notes.

“What kind of demon professor gives a quiz on a Friday, anyway?” She complains.

Besides her, Nicky laughs. “Take a break if you’re so upset about it.”

“That’s not how it works,” Gigi mumbles, even as she closes her folder and takes a sip of her iced coffee. She slumps back into her seat. “Music theory is gonna be the death of me, I swear.”

“I don’t even understand why you’re taking it,” Nicky says, tapping her pen against her teeth distractedly.

“I needed the credit,” Gigi explains in a monotone. “I thought it would be easy, but Professor Visage doesn’t even give us completion credit for homework.”

“Oh, the horror,” Nicky smirks at her. “Imagine, Stanford professors not giving you full credit just because you turned your work in.”

“Shut up,” Gigi pouts. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“Can’t you just drop?” Nicky steals a bite of Gigi’s tiramisu, giggling when the other girl swats her away. “Hey, I’m helping, I deserve some of your cake.”

“I can’t,” Gigi says, rolling her eyes at Nicky’s antics. “Missed the deadline.”

“Just get a tutor then,” Nicky suggests. “Isn’t that Crystal girl you like also taking it? You said she was doing well last time.”

Gigi very nearly chokes on a macaroon.

“How… do you even remember that?” She gets out, coughing.

“As if I could forget. That’s all you talked about the entire two hours we hung out. You were all, ‘Crystal’s so good at theory’ and ‘Visage likes her so much’ and ‘if she weren’t so pretty I could be able to hate her.’” Nicky teases. “Besides, you know I love to play matchmaker.”

“Yeah, well, I hate to break it to you, but that’s not happening. I can’t even talk to her, let alone survive a tutoring session with that girl.” Gigi says.

“Okay, well, it’s not like you have any other options.” Nicky is unimpressed.

“Then I’d better just accept that I’ll bomb this quiz.” Gigi pops another macaroon into her mouth in self-pity.

“No, not on my watch.” Nicky insists. “Just message her, it’s not that hard!”

“Absolutely not,” Gigi says. She reopens her folder, looking glumly down at the index cards tucked into the pocket. “Like I said, I’d rather fail.”

She’s too busy staring down at the material in front of her to notice when Nicky grabs her phone until it’s too late. “Hey!”

Nicky just cackles, angling her body so that Gigi can’t interrupt her typing. “If you don’t have the guts, I’ll do it for you.”

“Nicolette Doll, I’ll kill you,” Gigi says, trying to grab at her phone.

Gigi glares at her friend, calculating about a hundred ways to dispose of her body. She has half a mind to drive her dessert fork into the blonde’s neck in an attempt to stop her from going through with this. Gigi bats at Nicky’s arms, attempting to wrestle the device away from her.

It’s no use. Nicky’s grip is strong, and Gigi watches with growing horror as the blonde types Crystal’s Instagram handle into the explore page. Nicky doesn’t even need to type the full name; Crystal pops up into her recent searches as soon as she inputs the first few letters.

In usual circumstances, Gigi would at least be embarrassed, but right now she’s more horrified at the prospect of messaging Crystal Methyd.

Crystal, the girl who she’s been crushing on since the very first music theory lecture. Crystal, who’s probably the reason she’s barely pulling a big fat D in the class in the first place, since, as it turns out, staring at the pretty Latina sitting in the front row isn’t a very effective learning strategy.

“Nicky,” Gigi says, trying a different approach. “I’ll do the dishes for a week.”

“Too late!” Nicky grins at her, far too proud of herself. She hands the phone back to Gigi. “Your welcome.”

Gigi stares down at her phone screen, blinking dumbly at it.

Hey! This is Gigi from music theory. I needed a tutor and was wondering if you might wanna help?

Gigi’s gaze darts from Nicky to the screen, and then back again.

“I hate you,” She decides, puffing out a breath at the end of the sentence. “Why am I friends with you?”

“You’ll be thanking me soon enough.” Nicky shrugs. “Oh! Look, she’s typing!”

Gigi feels a rush of dizzying panic at Nicky’s narration. She snatches her phone closer to her chest, doing her best impression of a chipmunk with a peanut. A glance down confirms, yes, Crystal really is typing out a response. Now that Crystal’s already seen it, it’s too late to unsend the message. God, she’s probably weirded out by the random request. Why did Gigi think bringing this up with Nicky was a good idea?

“Uh-uh, I don’t trust you anymore,” She scolds, voice only shaking a bit, as Nicky tries to peek over her shoulder. “You can sit there and if you’re lucky I’ll fill you in.”

Nicky huffs, pouting. “Putain.”

Gigi’s about to retort when Crystal’s typing icon disappears, and a message replaces it.

hi gigi :) of course!

Gigi fights the dumb smile that’s threatening to burst across her cheeks, hyper-aware of the fact that Nicky’s watching her intently. She can feel the french girl’s gaze on her, practically burning a hole through her ponytail and skull.

Crystal typed the message in lowercase— Gigi’s not sure why she finds that so endearing, but the detail lodges itself in her brain and Gigi files it under the mental list she’s begun to keep this semester. Little things about Crystal: she likes big earrings, her laugh sounds like liquid sunshine, her hair is a different colour every other week. And now, the newest addition, she types in lowercase.

The smiley face Crystal sent peers up at her.

Her phone pings again. how does tuesday sound? maybe at 3pm?

“Bitch, what’s happening?” Nicky asks, craning her neck in an attempt to catch a glimpse of their exchange.

A flash of annoyance shoots through Gigi. For some reason, she feels very protective of this little exchange. Nicky’s well-meaning, she knows, but she’s not quite ready to share Crystal yet. It feels kind of exciting to know that this… well, whatever this is, is just between the two of them.

“Nothing so far,” She says. Nicky seems to accept the answer, going back to reading a section in her textbook.

Sounds good. We can work in the Lane reading room if that works for you?

The response comes almost immediately. totally, yeah! see you then

Gigi tries not to feel disappointed at the lack of a smiley face this time around. Keyword: she tries to. But it’s hard to read the signs over a couple of text messages, and she re-reads the last text she sent. Did she do something wrong? Was it too formal? What does Gigi respond, now that she isn’t sure if Crystal just texts everyone smiley faces, or if the girl is flirting with her?

Gigi grabs a chocolate chip cookie and takes a bite, stalling. There are two chunks of chocolate in the mouthful. Gigi takes that as a good sign and decides to go for it.

Looking forward to it! See you then <3

She regrets adding on the heart as soon as she presses send, but there’s no way to take the message back now. Gigi settles on stuffing her face with the rest of the cookie in regret.

She waits a few excruciating seconds, but no response comes. Fuck, she shouldn’t have added that heart. Crystal must think she’s totally creepy. Gigi flips her phone facedown on the table and picks up those flashcards again.

Nicky sees her make like she’s going to continue studying and lets out a snort. “Good luck, girl.”

“Nice to know you have faith in me,” Gigi shoots back, chewing at her bottom lip.

Nicky’s right, though. She doesn’t get anything done for the rest of the half-hour they’re there, her mind too full of thoughts about study dates and smiley faces to focus on anything else.

***

“Ugh!” Gigi tosses another dress aside, falling back onto her bed dramatically. “Why is this so hard?”

Nicky looks up from her phone. “You’re the one that’s making it complicated.”

Gigi throws a pillow in her general direction and the blonde shrieks as it hits her. The impact makes her fall out the beanbag she’s currently sitting on with a loud thump.

“Merde, okay, I’ll help!”

“Thanks.” Gigi flashes a cheeky smile at her.

Nicky puts her phone down and contemplates murdering her friend. “What do you have so far?”

“Uh,” Gigi holds up a tweed dress. “This?”

Nicky can’t help it: a snort escapes her. “What are you, Blair Waldorf? That’s way too fancy.”

“Alright then, uh,” Gigi fishes around for a bit, before showing Nicky a floral two-piece. “What about this one?”

“Hell no, a set looks way too put together.” Nicky shakes her head. “You wanna creep her out?”

Ten minutes and half of Gigi’s closet later, they’ve finally settled on a winning combination: a leather jacket and Gigi’s favourite pair of jeans.

Nicky insists that she doesn’t need a bra under her mini cardigan, so Gigi rolls with it.

A little part of her is glad that Nicky’s so passionate about Gigi flashing Crystal her nipples: at least she will have someone to blame when this all ends in a train wreck because she’s coming on way too strong.

Also, the mental image of Crystal getting flustered— well, Gigi would be lying if she said it wasn’t convincing.

Gigi’s alarm goes off and she grabs her phone, groaning at the time. “Shit, I’m gonna have to power-walk there.”

“I’ll see you after then,” Nicky says, winking at her. “Have fun with your little crush!”

As it turns out, Gigi didn’t have anything to worry about, because Crystal is late. Gigi takes a seat by the windows, spreading out her stuff. She tries not to think too much about the girl she’s currently waiting for, occupying herself instead with watching the people outside.

“Hey, sorry I’m late!” A voice says. Gigi turns and comes face to face with Crystal. The girl slides into the seat next to Gigi, her smile a little sheepish. “Art History is on the other side of campus. I guess I didn’t give myself enough time to get here.”

“Oh, uh,” Gigi flounders, not sure where to look. Is it weird to look into Crystal’s eyes? That feels a bit too intimate. She settles for focusing on moving her pencil case from her left to her right. Crystal’s looking expectantly at her, and she swallows hard, trying to clear her mind of Crystal’s tanned skin and cute freckles.

“No worries!” Her voice comes out weirdly high-pitched and she cringes inwardly.

Crystal doesn’t seem to notice her strange behaviour, flashing her another sunny grin. “Okay! Is there a specific section you want help with?”

Right. Tutoring. That’s why Crystal is here. Not so Gigi can stare at her, and certainly not to get to know Gigi or anything like that. Gigi can’t help the pang of disappointment that she gets at the reminder. Part of her forgot this is strictly a school-related thing. Gigi suddenly feels stupid for overthinking her outfit and draws her jacket closer to herself. Hopefully Crystal doesn’t notice how dressed-up she is today, because Gigi doesn’t know if she’ll be able to survive that embarrassment.

“I’ve been having trouble with secondary dominants,” Gigi says, pulling out her workbook.

“Okay, yeah, I can help you with those!” Crystal grabs a pen. She leans over, tracing the chords with it. “Can I write on this?”

“Huh?” Gigi asks stupidly, cheeks warming. Crystal’s shoulder is pressed against hers, and although it’s perfectly innocent, Gigi’s still hyper-aware of the way her skin feels too warm from the contact. She tries to stay perfectly still, not wanting to spook the other girl into moving away from her position. “Oh, uh, go ahead, totally. That’s fine.”

“Right, great, so let’s use this question,” Crystal says, marking something down on the book.

She’s close enough to Gigi now that her perfume envelopes the space around them. She smells like honey and coconut, a warm mixture that Gigi finds comforting. A curl slips over Crystal’s shoulder, and the girl bats it away. Gigi almost melts at how cute the action is.

This week Crystal’s hair is a muted matcha colour, and Gigi thinks that it suits her. It’s the prettiest she’s ever seen Crystal. Then again, she thinks that every time Crystal walks into class with a new colour, so maybe it’s less of a testament to the colour itself and more to how utterly head-over-heels Gigi is.

“The key signature is A Major, and this chord starts on a C. So you can count down a fifth from C, and you get F, which means that the chord is an F Dominant Seventh,” Crystal explains. “Do you know what the next step is?”

“Um,” Gigi says eloquently, brought back from her daydream by the question. How long did she zone out for?

“Sorry,” Crystal says, tapping her pen on the workbook rapidly. “I lost you, didn’t I?”

“No, it’s okay, just,” Gigi chews at her lip nervously, then immediately regrets it because she definitely has lipstick on her teeth now. “Can you go over it again?”

Crystal nods. She takes a sharp inhale like she’s going to say something, but seems to change her mind, instead offering Gigi a reassuring smile. “Of course, yeah.”

Gigi shifts awkwardly in her seat at the action, unsure what Crystal’s thinking. She’s about to ask, or say something when Crystal jumps into the explanation again. Gigi tries her very hardest to pay attention this time, but she still finds herself staring at Crystal’s lips. They’re coated with a glittery red gloss, and they look so shiny and plump that Gigi really, really wants to kiss them.

“Wanna try one on your own now?” Crystal asks.

Gigi blinks. “What?”

Crystal sets her pen down, eyebrows raised. “Did you get any of that?”

“I, uh,” Gigi stammers, trying to find some way to save the situation. Her cheeks warm, and the realization that she’s blushing makes her even more flustered. “Sorry, I’m just really out of it.”

Crystal offers her a sympathetic smile, patting Gigi on the arm comfortingly. “Hey, you’ll be fine, okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I’m just worried, I guess.” That’s not it at all, but Crystal doesn’t need to know that.

“I won’t let you fail, promise,” Crystal says with a wink. Gigi can’t help but giggle at the action, and Crystal pokes her playfully. “You got this!”

“Thanks,” Gigi mutters, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth through a soft smile.

There’s a slight pause, both girls regarding each other with a hint of shyness. Gigi swallows thickly, eyes flicking around Crystal’s face. Her breath is coming quicker now, and she feels a bit lightheaded.

Crystal has picked up her pen again, nervously clicking it under the table. The sound is threatening to overpower Gigi’s already scattered thoughts. Gigi’s hand goes to cover hers out of instinct, to stop the rhythmic clicks. The back of Crystal’s hand is soft, and Gigi’s fingers loop lightly around her wrist, feeling the fuzz brush against her fingertips. Crystal stops clicking the pen, but Gigi doesn’t remove her hand.

Crystal takes another sharp inhale in, and Gigi thinks the girl is going to shake her hand loose. Nothing happens, though, and for the second time, Crystal seems to swallow her words.

Gigi’s mouth feels sticky, and she runs her tongue along her teeth in an attempt to get rid of the feeling. Crystal presses her lips together at the sight, and Gigi feels a wave of adrenaline so strong it almost knocks her flat. Every fibre in Gigi’s body wants to crash herself against Crystal. She wants to feel the lip gloss slathered on the other girl’s lips on her own, and to drape her arms over Crystal’s shoulders. Her clammy hands twitch as if they might truly act on the desire without Gigi’s approval, and she balls them into fists to suppress the urge.

“You look pretty today,” Crystal says, more air than sound to her words.

Gigi hums. “So do you. You always do.”

Another few moments of stillness. Gigi finds it surprisingly comfortable, existing in Crystal’s space. She focuses on the rise and fall of Crystal’s chest, subconsciously mirroring the pattern with her own breathing.

Crystal’s the braver of the two.

She makes the first move, flipping over their hands so that hers is on top and using that to tug the redhead closer to her. Gigi slides obediently forward in her seat, her legs slotting around Crystal’s. Crystal walks her fingers up Gigi’s arm, raising goosebumps as she gets higher and higher. A chill runs through Gigi’s body, and she regrets not wearing a bra for the second time today. She shifts, straightening her spine, and immediately has to bite back a whimper when she feels her nipples brushing against the knit of her cardigan. By the smirk on Crystal’s face, the moment hasn’t gone unnoticed. There’s a challenge in her eyes, and Gigi feels her throat close when Crystal’s hand brushes her cheek.

Fucking tease, Gigi wants to say, or maybe scream. Hurry up and kiss me.

But Gigi doesn’t, she just sits there and tracks Crystal’s movements with her eyes, and shivers when Crystal tucks a fallen strand of hair behind her ear, agonizingly slow.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Crystal asks, tilting her head in faux innocence.

Gigi bristles and feels her hands jerk impatiently in her lap. “Yes, fuck.”

But Crystal doesn’t let her get it that easily. She shakes her head, curls bouncing gently around her face. “No, say it.”

Gigi splutters something in between a curse and a laugh. The absolute nerve of this bitch. She doesn’t bother saying it again, just rolls her eyes lightly and leans in. Her patience has worn thin, and Crystal’s lips are too inviting to not feel them on hers right this moment.

Crystal ducks away and Gigi is left hanging there for a second, confused, before she opens her eyes with an annoyed huff. “You-”

“Say it,” Crystal repeats. The corners of her lips turn up slightly like she’s fighting a smile. Her hand goes to cup Gigi’s chin. “Wanna hear you say it, Geeg.”

Gigi literally feels her vision cloud over for a split second at the nickname.

Okay, maybe that’s a little dramatic, but her blood is buzzing in her body and she swears everything has gone a bit fuzzy around the edges. In any normal circumstance, Gigi would probably be over this little game of cat and mouse. She could just kiss someone else. But this is Crystal Methyd in front of her, and that’s enough to make her decide to shelve her pride for now.

She wets her lips and whispers what Crystal wants to hear. “I want you to kiss me.”

Crystal narrows her eyes at Gigi, and for one terrible moment, Gigi thinks Crystal is going to find another excuse to deny her, that she’s going to pull away and tell her that this has all been some kind of cruel power play. But then Crystal’s closing the remaining distance between them, and Gigi takes a sharp shock of air in and has to blow the breath out in one great big rush because Crystal is finally, finally kissing her. It’s tender and soft, a bit more elementary school than anything, and it’s perfect.

Crystal pulls away before Gigi can slide even closer, and she whines unashamedly, shuddering out a shaky breath. Crystal’s hand brushes against Gigi’s chest as she lets it fall, and Gigi’s breath catches. This girl is going to be the death of her.

“Been waiting to do that for a while,” Gigi admits, still a bit breathless.

“I know,” Crystal says. There’s a pretty blush adorning the highs of her cheeks, still visible when she continues. “I was wondering when you’d work up the nerve to talk to me. You stare at me every class.”

“Bitch! I wasn’t that obvious,” Gigi defends.

Crystal just blinks at her. “No, you were obvious as fuck.”

“Oh.” Gigi feels heat blooming on her cheeks.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me how I know that?” Crystal prompts. Gigi still looks a little confused, so she continues. “I only noticed because I was watching you, too.”

“You liked me and didn’t make a move?” Gigi exclaims, hitting Crystal on the arm playfully.

“It was more fun to watch you struggle,” Crystal says, waggling her eyebrows.

“You suck.”

“If I kiss you again will you forgive me?” Crystal pulls an exaggerated sad face, clasping her hands together.

Gigi just snorts and closes the distance. Their lips mesh together softly, just as dizzying as the first kiss, and when she pulls away Gigi can still feel Crystal’s gloss on her lips. She smacks them together, trying to blend her own lipstick with the bright red goop.

“So. Do you think you can try a problem now, Miss Goode?” Crystal grins mischievously at Gigi.

“I don’t know, you’re quite distracting,” Gigi counters, a smile pulling at her lips.

Crystal just hums, pointing at a row of questions. “If you get three of those right in a row, I’ll kiss you some more.”

“On my own?” Gigi really would rather go on kissing Crystal.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun, we can make it a game!” Crystal sounds hopeful enough that Gigi finds herself wanting to keep her happy. “Please?”

“What, now you’re the one begging?” Gigi teases.

She picks up her pencil, getting to work. Something about this new studying strategy is more effective than anything she’s tried before, and before long, thanks to Crystal’s teaching (and the kisses peppered between each problem set,) Secondary Dominants make perfect sense.

Come test day, Gigi sits right next to Crystal, in the front row, and makes a respectable 82.

If Professor Visage notices the hand-holding and stolen glances they exchange in the following lectures, she doesn’t mention it. The professor just seems grateful that Gigi’s finally absorbing the content for once. And as for the extent of her knowledge of why Gigi is suddenly so motivated to come into her class every day, well, Visage’s knowing smile says it all.

#rpdr fanfiction #gigi goode #crystal methyd #crygi #nicky doll #lesbian au #college au #fluff #mumu #concrit welcome #s12

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xxisxxisxxis · 4 years

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Thirty-Four

Table of Content or Part Thirty-Three

Word Count: 4.4k

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

A/N: To the anon that asked about the pictures before chapters, I gave it a shot. Let me know what you guys think. Cintia Dicker is who I've always imagined as Viv (only difference is Viv has green eyes and Cintia has blue). Have a good night guys!!

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"...We're about to go on in a couple minutes, we're already late." Duff tells me, frustrated, after explaining everything he, Izzy, Axl, Slash, and Steven have endured ever since they left L.A. to embark on their first little tour as a band, along the west coast.

The first stop was his home town, and everything from losing equipment, losing their only form of transportation, hitch hiking in suffocating heat, spending all the money shared between them for a ride, and anything else that could go wrong, happened all under 24 hours.

After getting the full run down on what all had happened once they got back home, I decided the devil works hard, but Guns N' Roses work harder.

"Well, I wish I could have gone but I'm trying to get Nikki to acknowledge Vince before they start touring." I tell him, scrubbing at a soapy dish, the kitchen phone caught between my ear and my shoulder.

"Still?"

"He offered Vince blow the other day, after Vince just got out of jail, and is supposed to be sober. It wasn't blow. It was smack." I explain.

"Oh my God, that's fucked." Duff tells me.

"Him and Tommy thought it was the funniest thing ever so I replaced all their blow with unscented baby powder and flushed the real thing." I explain and he laughs. "They've been wondering why their blow is 'broken'."

"Now, is that what Jesus would do?" He asks jokingly.

"God gave me the idea. I did it. I am a good and faithful servant." I state and he laughs again.

"Oh, I gotta go, Viv." He tells me.

"Alright, good luck." I say, hearing Steven say "Hey, Viv!"

"Steven says 'hey'." Duff lets me know and I smile to myself.

"Tell him I said, 'hey'."

"I will. I'll talk to you again whenever I can." He assures me. "Love you."

"Love you, too."

"Bye."

"Bye-bye."

We both hang up and I rinse the dish I've been working on and place it in the dish wrack.

Glancing at the clock to see it's 8:00pm, Nikki should be back from the studio soon.

I finish up on the dishes and go take a shower since I've been stress cleaning and sweating a little.

By the time I get out and get lounging clothes on, Nikki and Tommy are in the kitchen talking, and go silent when I come in

"Hey, babe." Nikki tells me innocently, he and Tommy exchanging mischevious looks.

"What?" I ask them, glancing between the two of them.

"So...I was thinking..." Nikki starts. "...You know how you told me not to buy the vette last year, right? Because it only had two seats and we might have kids down the line and it's not really a family car."

"Yeah." I reply, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Well, because I'm a responsible husband and a happy wife equals a happy life, I made an investment." He tells me and I cross my arms.

"What kind of investment, Mr. Sixx?" I roll my jaw.

"Well..." Nikki trails off, and I'm darting for the front door before he or Tommy can grab me.

I swing the front door open to see a brand new jeep in the driveway.

"Nikki Sixx!" I spin around and he and Tommy wince a little. "You bought a car?! Another one?!"

"The vette's are the town cars, baby, the jeep is for more practical use."

"Like the motorcycle in our garage is for 'nights out with the guys'?"

"Exactly!" Tommy pipes in.

In a matter of seconds, I'm chasing Nikki back into the house.

"I'm going to kill you!" I threaten him.

"Tommy, grab her!" Nikki laughs out, which only makes me even more upset that my frustration is amusing to him.

Tommy misses me buy a few seconds before I'm jumping over the couch and tackling Nikki, straddling him and pinning him by his forearms.

"We don't have the money for a new car, Nikki!" I tell him, seriously.

"The album releases in two weeks, Viv. We've got more money than you think." He chuckles, assuring me, and I let out a breath as his eyes drift over my body, raising a brow at our position. "But I can pretend we're dirt broke if you promise to keep man handling me."

"Do I need to get you guys the video camera and leave you to it?" Tommy reminds us he's still here.

"Yeah, it's about time to add Volume Three to the collection, anyway." Nikki states, the corner of his mouth pulling up in his signature smirk.

Before your imagination runs wild, none of our sex tapes are still in existence. When Tommy and Vince's got out, I knew damn well I wasn't about to be best known for a sex tape(s)...

So they were all run over in the driveway and lit on fire.

"Speaking of the release," Nikki starts, nudging at me. "Our anniversary's the next week, but what're you wanting to do for a anniversary present—"

"—Your anniversary present is in the garage. And the driveway. And require insurance. And gas. And maintenance." I correct him and he rolls his eyes.

"I meant your present." He tells me. "What do think you might want?"

"I don't know." I shrug, then I remember what day our anniversary falls on, and slowly look at Nikki, my lips pulling into a smug smile.

I'm still not sorry for what I asked for, for our anniversary. But you know what? Hungover, slightly doped up from the night before, and exhausted, my trooper of a husband got himself together long enough to endure his own personal hell.

Nikki glares at me from behind his sunglasses as the preacher leads us into prayer and I nudge him with my elbow a little so he'll at least bow his head and pretend to care.

"Father in Heaven we pray, forgive us of our sins, Lord. God, we ask that you bless this message and prepare the hearts of those that need to hear it. I pray that you continue to watch over us, keep your hand upon us, and help us to be better. In Jesus' name I pray, amen."

"Amen." We all say, and Nikki scoffs out a mocking little snicker, making me elbow him and he raises his brows.

His smug look immediately falls.

I can't see his eyes but I know he's saying, "elbow me again and see what happens."

"If you turn in your Bibles to the book of Hosea, chapter three, verse one..." Brother Harting starts, and I take pick my jacket up from my lap to get my Bible from underneath it.

I flip to Hosea 3:1, and read along in my mind as he reads aloud:

"Then the Lord said unto me, Go yet, love a woman beloved of her friend, yet an adulteress, according to the love of the Lord toward the children of Israel, who look to other gods, and love flagons of wine." He says, before looking up from the book. "To put it simply, for those of you not quite sure what that means, God is telling Hosea to marry a prostitute. The children of Israel at this time were beginning to stray from God and worship other gods and idols. They were not faithful to God. Like Gomer, Hosea's wife. I'm sure when he married her, he hoped she would stop selling herself and giving herself to other people." He explains. "Isn't it strange that so many of us assume marriage, or a child, will keep their significant other from giving parts of themselves to other people and other things when they were selling themselves to someone or something long before you even came along?" He chuckles out and I rub my lips together, a chord being struck within me. "God told Hosea to marry Gomer, and he did. But she didn't stay faithful. In fact, Hosea had to repeatedly go find her with other men and bring her back home. Now, God didn't tell Hosea to marry a woman that seemed like she could not, for the life of her, stay committed in the right path, to hurt him. God wanted to demonstrate how Israel was repeatedly unfaithful towards him. How we are all unfaithful to him at times, even when we don't realize it. Some of us even worship idols, and don't realize it. Obsession over money. Obsession over lust. Obsession over alcohol. If you are a workaholic..." He names a few examples.

"Cute, can we go now?" Nikki's grumbling under his breath to me and I don't even look at him, lacing my fingers through his, hoping to keep him quite like giving a baby a pacifier.

"I'm not saying wanting money, or having a drink with your dinner, or enjoying your work or really enjoying sex, is idolatry. It is when those things become addictive habits that consume your thoughts constantly, so much so, that you wake up one day and realize you haven't even acknowledged God in weeks. Some of us, months. For others, it's years. And when I say 'acknowledge God' I don't mean a little 'thank God' when something goes your way. I mean, getting in that comfortable space we all have when we can humbly approach God with all of our worries, concerns, hopes, dreams, and tell him about everything going on in our lives. When we take the time to talk to him like we would a friend. God wants to hear everything from us, whether it's something good that's happened, or something we need him to heal within us or help us with something we are struggling to do. He is never too busy." He smiles. "Hosea constantly chased and went after Gomer because he loved her. He made vows to God to marry her and he grew to love her. God loved the children of Israel, and he loves us. He used Hosea as a demonstration of how he always pursues and goes after his church when each of us stray, and let me tell you something, ladies and gentlemen, when Gomer got herself into a mess for the last time, she was about to be sold, like cattle. And Hosea went looking for her thinking she was up to her typical no good. But he came up on the auction she was being sold at. Keep in mind this woman had put him through years of hurt, and pain. He was exhausted, he was angry, he was broken...but he saw his wife about to be sold to men who would most definitely put her through hell, and Hosea suddenly couldn't see his wife's wrong doings. He just saw the woman he loved, the mother of his children, scared and in trouble. And he threw his hand up, and placed a bid for thirty pieces of silver on this woman. Six months worth of wages on a woman that seemed to do everything in her power to not be faithful to him."

"I think fucking not." Nikki doesn't even try to be quiet, causing a few people in front of us to quickly glance back at us.

I elbow him, harder this time, and he's grabbing at my wrist, harshly, pulling me to my feet.

Anger and frustration goes through me when he leads me through the double doors of the very small lobby.

"You're being a jackass." I hiss out the second he's pushed me into the ladies' room that consists of one toilet and a small sink.

"You're being a brat. You should be happy I even came to this bullshit." He snaps.

"One time isn't gonna kill you, Nikki. I'm surprised you're actually able to walk into a church and not burst into flames."

"Okay, fuck you!" He raises his voice and my hand is popping him in the chest before I can stop myself, "Shh!" flying past my lips.

His teeth grind together, and my thighs tense.

His hand is grabbing a fist full of my red locks, yanking my head back as he looks me in the eyes.

It's a slap in the face to him, but I can't help but let out a mocking chuckle, smiling up at him.

I completely disregard the fact we're in church, and my hands slide under his shirt, feeling his warm skin, my nails scratching down his sides.

He's letting go of my hair, reaching between us, and unbuckling his belt and tugging it out of his belt loops.

I squeeze my thighs together as anticipation starts building within my core, creating a slip between my thighs.

He's grabbing my arm and spinning me around to face the wall, shoving me forward.

My hands brace on the chipped, faint yellow paint, and he's yanking my hips back and spreading my legs while yanking my dress up and my panties down to rest around my ankles.

He gives me a moment of mercy, his hand reaching around to rub my clit while his leather restrained prick grinds against my ass, causing me to let out a quiet moan to avoid being heard.

Just as I start moving with his fingers, he pulls away.

"Bad girls don't get rewarded." He tells me smartly in my ear before I'm feeling heat radiate through my body after the sharp sting of leather hits my skin.

I take in a breath, arching my back, biting back another moan.

By the time he's finished with lick number ten, my ass is bright red and aching, and there's a mess of wetness rolling down my legs and dripping on the floor.

I hear his belt hit the floor and he unties the laces of his pants, causing me to hum with excitement as he reaches for my hair again and turns me around to pull me to my knees.

I lick my lips as my mouth begins to water at the sight of engorged veins, aching for release as he strokes himself a couple of times, his precum beading out of his tip.

I open my mouth and stick my tongue out eagerly, looking up at him with begging, green eyes, wanting to taste him.

He looks down at me with a little grin, like he's proud he's been able to screw the submission into his innocent little "my body's a temple" Saint Vivian and corrupt her in every way that she would allow.

He gives me what I want, swiping the tip of himself across my tongue. I don't think he's expected me to wrap my tongue and lips around him just yet because when I do, he's gripping onto the side of the sink with white knuckles.

I hungrily swallow down the liquid leaking from him, thriving under his praise as he says:

"God, you're so fuckin' hot."

I press teasing kisses to his tip, down the underside of his shaft, and his balls, and he damn near collapses when I run my tongue over them before tracing my tongue back up him and taking him in my mouth.

He grabs at my hair, creating a punishing pace that's got tears running from the corners of my eyes with each thrust that has him brushing against the back of my throat.

When he finally lets me catch my breath, a line of my spit holds from my lips to his cock, so I catch it with my fingers and use it to keep jerking him off.

My pussy is beginning to throb, needing something, anything to relieve the pressure.

The fingers of my free hand fall to my clit, but it isn't quite enough.

I believe I take "bitch in heat" to a whole other level when I pull my dress up and strategically arch my back and rest my legs on either side of Nikki's right foot.

He looks at me, a little confused before I spread my thighs a little more, causing my clit to rest against the curve of Nikki's boot where his ankle meets his leg.

My eyes roll back as I begin to move back and forth, slowly against him, while still keeping my hand moving up and down on his dick.

I don't open my eyes until I feel him lift the toe of his shoe a little bit, angling the part I'm straddling to rest against my soaked sex perfectly.

My eyes stare up at him, the nails of my free hand bite into the back of his lower thigh as I use him for leverage while beginning to move feverishly against him.

He takes over on himself, allowing me to hold onto his leg with both hands as he watches me like I'm the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

Tears stream down my face as my orgasm builds, the only thing able to come out of my mouth is "Oh, fuck" and "Nikki" in the form of breathy whimpers.

When I come, my eyes screw shut, my body shutters and I completely soak Nikki's boot.

"Face, mouth, or tits?" Nikki asks me in regards to where I want his cum.

I swallow every last drop.

After making sure my crucifix wasn't crooked, my floral Sunday dress and matching heels were perfectly put back on and my hair looked like it had never been touched, Nikki and I pretended we hadn't had a little anniversary gathering in the bathroom and returned to service in time to hear that last tid bit.

In which Nikki was pissed about having to sit through, but I suppose he did anyway without any more complaints because he knew it was important to me.

"Hosea bought his wife back, like Christ bought all of us with his bloodshed on the cross. That being said, let's throw out the idea that God only chases after perfect Christians and everyone else is no good and going to hell anyway so it's the perfect Christians' job to tell everyone else they're going to burn forever." Harting states as Nikki and I slip back inside, and I scoff, thinking of my mother. "We are all sinners, people. I've known Christians that condemn just about everyone and then go home and do the equivelant of what they were condemning others for. You can't tell homosexuals they are going to hell and there is no hope for them, and then go out and have sex outside of marriage. Or say tattoos are a show of paganism and a sin and then go home and call up your friends to gossip about other people. You don't get to decide what is and isn't a sin to better suit your lifestyle. And just because someone isn't like you or doesn't think like you, does not mean they are any less worthy of God's love and a lot of Christians need to be careful who they damn to hell because God doesn't think like human's do. Our bodies, our flesh, and our mind's are imperfect and I'm affraid many of these holier-than-thou types are going to be shocked when they end up in a place they don't want to be when they die because they spent too much time alive being too hateful and worried about how other people are living, they never looked at themselves and worked on their own relationship with God and their salvation before minding other people's. Any born again Christian who truly has God in their hearts should never, ever, feel comfortable telling someone else they are going to hell. We can disagree with someone's choices and decisions or relationships and friendships or addictions and habits or view points and opinions, and love them. And respect them. And be kind to them. And treat them like human beings and if you're worried for someone's soul, pray for them as much as you want. We are here to love and uplift others. That is the way we as Christians are meant to be because that is the way God is with us. We do things all the time he doesn't like. But he loves us enough to continously chase after us and bring us back to him, and never give up on us. And that love is open to anyone willing to accept it."

He closes out his sermon and we sing one last hymn before closing out in prayer, and head back to the car.

"Well?" I ask him and he takes his sunglasses off and rubs his eyes.

"I don't know what was more adorable: seeing you all enthused over someone that doesn't exist, or seeing you have my dick in your throat during church." He pipes, laughing. "Oh, that would be cool game to play. I could be the Pervy Priest and you could be the Naughty Nun." He suggest, his hand squeezing at my thigh in a tickling motion and I squeal, fighting to get him to stop tickling me and he finally stops."It was a good message, though. He had a very nice way of saying, 'just mind your own fucking business, cunt face'."

"Shh, Nikki!" I cringe at him saying 'cunt' in the parkinglot of a church.

"Oh, sorry, didn't mean to swear in the Lord's driveway." He sarcastically apologizes and I shake my head a little and crank the car.

Later that night, Nikki heads to Robbin's place to score some smack and blow from his dealer, before we go out to dinner, and I'm stopping by to see Duff and the guys at their rehearsal.

The clicks of my heels sound against the bare concrete where stained up carpet as been ripped up.

I see two masses of teased, blonde hair in the corner by a drum kit, a fluff ball of black, curly hair laying in the floor wear sunglasses, and teased red hair.

"Duff." Izzy states, and I turn to see him on a holed up couch in the corner, cigarette hanging from his lips.

"Izzy." I acknowledge him.

"Viv." He replies in the same tone, not bothering to look up from his guitar.

"Yeah?" Duff asks, glancing over at him to see me. "Hey!" He immediately stops what he's doing to come over, the other three boys looking up at me as well. "What're you doing here?" He asks, hugging me, and I look up at him after seeing Steven coming over here.

"Nikki and I were about to go out for our anniversary and I decided to come by since I haven't talked to you in a couple weeks. But, um, I know you've been busy I just thought I would stop by." I explain, smiling when Steven's energetic vibe spills over to me when he squeezes me to him.

"Well, we were just taking a break if you wanna hangout for a little bit." Duff offers.

I glance at Axl over Duff's shoulder, seeing he's irritated, and I let out a breath.

My relationship with Axl was about how my relationship with Vince was.

We loved to hate each other.

But not because Axl was a pig like Vince was. But because he and I were the same exact person.

I don't know if it was the overzealous religious up bringing forced upon us, or our struggles with similar mental disorders, but we both had the same nearly uncontrollable temper.

We got along most of the time, our issue, though, was that we saw things differently, and would get into heated arguments.

The longer the band stayed together, the worse Axl got.

It became more and more about him, and not so much the band.

When Steven was fired for getting too deep into heroin (as if he was the only one in the band with addiction issues) Axl had the honor Robbin, Vince, and Doc, all had been given: my fist to his face.

He was trying his hardest not to punch me back as I yelled:

"I'm not in your fucking band, I'm not on your fucking payroll, so I have no problem telling you, you're a fucking piece of shit and you need a hell of a lot more help than what you're getting right now! You're acting like a trigger happy crazy person, you have got your band members paranoid about who's gonna go next and for the love of God, Axl, of all the ways you could have handled the man that has saved your wife's life not once, but twice, you fire him for doing something you idiots were glorifying three years ago?! Get your shit together, Rose, because you're getting fucking messy!"

I had quoted him, from when he said, "get your shit together, Sixx, because you're getting fucking messy" after Duff and I had nearly been caught by Nikki.

The entire time they were on tour with us, Axl was paranoid Nikki would find out Duff and I were friendly with each other, kick Guns off the tour, and blacklist them through the label...

He got even more uptight when Steven and Slash accidentally gave me weed brownies a few days into the tour, and I was stoned out of my mind for six hours straight, and Steven, Slash, Duff, and were chasing me around and trying to make sure I didn't make it obvious to anyone on Mötley's team or Nikki, Tommy, Vince and Mick, that the supporting band got Nikki's stone cold sober wife high as a kite. Izzy just found it amusing.

One thing about Axl, though. He taught Tansy how to stick up for herself, which gave her the courage to publicly out her abusers in her agency and industry. I guess that's why I didn't kill him despite the many times I heavily considered it.

"I would hang around, but, I've really gotta get going." I tell Duff. "But I'll call you tomorrow or Tuesday and we can figure out when a good time to hangout before I go to Japan, alright?"

"Okay." He nods.

"Okay, I gotta go, Steven." I squeeze him equally as tight as he is me, ruffling his hair a little.

"Boo! Buzzkill." He protests my leaving and I roll my eyes as he steps back to his drums.

"I'll talk to you later." I tell Duff, standing on my tip toes to kiss his cheek innocently.

"Yeah. Have fun tonight." He tells me. "And happy anniversary."

"Thank you, sweetie." I say as I wipe my lipstick from his cheek. "Love you, be good." I tell them before turning to go.

"Love you." Steven and Duff say back.

"Viv." Izzy tells me as I head for the door, as his way of saying 'bye'.

"Izzy." I reply, before stepping out.

#nikki sixx #vince neil #tommy lee #mötley crüe #the dirt #the dirt movie #gateway drug

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