#and mick would’ve done a BETTER JOB | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pynkhues · 3 years

Note

Would love number 20 “in a moment of worry” for Brio touch prompts... thank you!

Ah! Such a fun one, anon (and sorry for the delay).

This is a post-s3 baby!

“Can you just - - hold still.”

“I am,” Beth bites, her gaze flicking sideways to where Annie’s fumbling with the alcohol swabs, the first aid kit cracked open between them leaving the faint, alkaline smell of chemicals to soak the air. Not that Beth can smell it that well over the metallic tang of blood, but she can see it on the twist of Ruby’s face where she sits on her scooter. Recognises it from long evenings at the hospital with Sara, when the smell of the space – somehow both pungent and sterile – sucked all the air out of the room.

“You’re holding about as still as Jane when she has to pee,” Annie replies, finally tearing open the plastic wrapping with her teeth and gagging when the taste of the swab hits her tongue, and good, Beth thinks, sniffing. It’s not like it’s her fault that they’re in this situation.

“I can’t believe you went there alone.”

And okay, Beth thinks, a seed of guilt planting as her gaze snaps back to Ruby. Maybe it’s not not her fault.

With Ruby on her scooter, Beth and Annie have most of the (still) empty floor of Beth’s living room to themselves. The scattered pieces of furniture she’s been able to claim the place with limited to a tiny, frayed-from-cat-claws sofa that Annie had gotten in exchange for covering a co-worker’s shift, and Judith’s antique ottoman – the latter of which is shoved into the corner of the living room, home now to a bag of cash with a bullet hole in it and Danny’s solar system diorama for science class.

The pinch of the hour makes itself known in the lag of Beth’s head, and god, it’s gotta be past midnight at this point. The thought leaves the guilt sprouting as she takes in Ruby’s tired, worried face, and Annie’s pressed focus as she unfolds the swab, and there’s an apology somewhere on Beth’s tongue, because it might not be entirely her fault, but she’ll be the first to admit that tonight didn’t exactly go as planned.

As if on cue, Beth hears a car pull up outside. Hears the cut of an engine and then a beat, two, and a door open and close. The soft pad of feet up her driveway and then the quiet, gruff murmurs of Mick’s voice as he meets the newcomer, and - - newcomer? God, who’s she kidding, she knows exactly - -

Her cheek stings, and Beth yelps, flinching back before she can help it only to be met by Annie’s apologetic look as she presses the alcohol swab harder into the cut on Beth’s face.

“I told you to hold still,” Annie reminds her, and Beth sighs, letting Annie dab a little at her before she drops the now-bloody swab into the pile of torn plastic between them.

“You deserve that,” Ruby chimes in, and Beth just rolls her eyes, her hand travelling up to prod a little at the cut before Annie slaps it away. “Don’t. Your hands are like - - germ factories. I think this might need stitches.”

“You’re lucky gangfriend’s gang friend showed up,” Ruby adds sharply, and that’s a little harsh, Beth thinks, gaze travelling back up to her in time to catch the other woman’s look, but Ruby’s not looking at her, or - - she is, but more specifically, she’s looking at the gash on Beth’s cheek, and okay, it’s not that bad.

The bruises at her shoulder are worse.

She’d seen them in the side mirror of Mick’s car as he’d pulled her out of the warehouse, shoving her unceremoniously into the passenger seat as he’d whipped them out of there, and Ruby was right, she was lucky, but at the same time, it was supposed to be simple.

It was supposed to be a way for them to get some control of their operation again. They weren’t cutting Rio out by going around him this time, they were just - - getting to know their pool of clients. Exploring some potentially lucrative side hustles. If Rio hadn’t wanted them to do that, he would’ve done a better job at hiding that phone number on the paperwork he’d brought into Boland Bubbles, and he definitely would’ve like - - done something to stop her from setting up a meeting if he was already working with the guy himself.

Right?

Or maybe he’d just wanted to teach her a lesson, Beth thinks bitterly, pushing her leg out from underneath her as it starts to cramp. After all, she had been asking him a lot about the Boland Bubbles clients, and well - -

Mick really had shown up weirdly fast.

Still.

“I had it under control,” Beth insists, her frown deepening when Ruby scoffs and Annie gives her a stupid look, and she doesn’t think the guy was going to kill her anyway. He only hit her when she told him he must be as stupid as he looked if he didn’t know a good deal when he saw one.

With a whine, the front door opens, and she knew it would be him, she reminds herself, she did, but still.

It’s something else, that’s all. To see Rio step through her front door, an eyebrow arched and his lips pressed into a thin line as he stops in the open arch entrance of her almost-empty living room and takes them in, and god.

She sits up a little taller, ignoring the complaint at the small of her back, because she’s sitting on the floor and this is not the way she wanted him to see her tonight, or ever, but then again, she reminds herself wryly, they’ve seen each other worse.

Still, she can hear Ruby inhale a sharp breath at the sight of him, Annie shuffle nervously, hear the neighbour’s son playing video games and a baby crying. Can feel the room shrink like it always does when Rio’s in it, and Beth does what she always does too.

She watches Rio.

Watches as he closes the distance between them, and Annie’s barely got the chance to grab the first aid kit and scramble sideways as he does it, his sneakers scuffed in a way that reminds Beth of afternoons at the park, but nothing good waits for her at the end of that thought, and so she looks up at his jean-clad knees, his shiny, uncracked leather belt, his t-shirt, his half-open peacoat, and then - -

His eyes are always so dark.

Beth swallows thickly.

Vaguely, she’s aware that Mick followed him in (a surprise given he’d spent the last half hour after bringing her home on her front steps), and Annie’s nervous energy and Ruby’s sunken shoulders, but any thoughts of it are dim, blurred, a smudge of sight, sound, feel in the background, because Beth’s looking at Rio, and Rio’s looking at her.

He clasps his hands in front of himself.

Rolls his shoulders back.

He looks down at her, statuesque, a million miles above her.

“You wanna tell me what happened?”

And, well - -

It lights her up like a dropped match.

“Your associate is what happened,” she tells him, and the heat finds her tone too quickly, because if this was a test, if he knew - - her chest heaves: “He - - pistol whipped me.”

From the corner of her eye, she can see Annie and Ruby stare at her, their own eyes wide and unblinking, and she can hear Mick snort, amused, which just - - god, it’s enough to leave a flush burning at her cheeks, but Rio seems unbothered. Unaffected. Just keeps looking at her like that.

Like - -

Before she has time to think, he steps forwards again, drops to a crouch in front of her and Beth jerks (and god, that makes her face sting, her shoulder burn), as Annie scrambles further backwards towards Ruby, and she can see the amusement on Rio’s face, no matter how hard he tries to hide it, and she’s still squaring her jaw when Rio hooks a knuckle underneath it.

Beth’s exhale is trapped in her throat.

It’s worse than the looking – when he touches her. When he looks at her, everything else fades, but when he touches her, there is nothing else, and Beth hates it, hates the feel of the cracked skin of his knuckle behind her chin, hates the memory of it scraping the backs of her teeth once, a long time ago, in her now-empty bedroom, hates that she looks at him and his dark, heavy eyes and knows the memory’s close to the surface for him too.

“See,” he starts, his voice low and slow as he tilts her head slightly to the side (she hates that she lets him), getting a better look at her cut. “Thing I can’t get my head around is why you were even meetin’ my associate in the first place.”

He doesn’t emphasise the my, he doesn’t, but Beth hears it anyway, and it’s enough to make her blink, swallow, to hate the latter too for the way it pushes the soft underbelly of her jaw into his finger, and it’s like he knows that too, because suddenly Rio drops his hand down to his knee, and Beth looks at him, and - - huh.

Maybe he didn’t know, she thinks, taking in his closed face.

Maybe he just hated touching her too.

“He asked for a meeting,” she tells him, and without his skin on her’s, she hears it when Ruby makes a low, strangled noise (but okay, it’s not a lie – he did ask for a meeting after Beth had implied she’d accept one on the phone).

“He asked for a meeting,” Rio echoes dryly, and Beth stares at him, and he knows. She knows he knows. But still she can’t quite swallow the lie.

“The pitch could’ve gone a little better.”

The grin that twitches at the corners of Rio’s lips is so fast she almost misses it – might have, if they weren’t sitting so close – and she finds something in her lurching with the knowledge, trying to chase the look even as his features resettle.

“Yeah, he ain’t really used to people like you showin’ up at these sorts of meetin’s.”

“I thought self-starters defined this industry.”

At the words, Rio snorts, shaking his head at her, and it’s sudden – the shift in the look of him – any amusement leaching out of his expression and leaving him quieter somehow. His big eyes half-lidded, the points and angles to him softened, his lips just slightly open to exhale a breath and is it that, she wonders? The warmth she feels suddenly at her cheeks?

Beth wets her own lips, means to speak, to say something, only then his knuckle is beneath her chin again, tilting her head softly to the right. Holds her in place for a moment, and she lets her gaze fix on the far wall of her living room, tries to slow her breathing as she feels him look at the half-cleaned up cut, the aching bruises flowering like spring buds beneath her skin. Feels him - -

Just feels him.

After a moment, he drops his hand, grazing it ever so slightly against her chest as he pulls it away and leans back on his haunches, and Beth should look at him, should twist her head back to him, but she doesn’t – not right away. Drops her gaze instead to the floor, to the carpet, a little stained from where she spilt bourbon once. From where Emma’s tie-dye ballet slippers marked it too.

“You gonna learn anything from this?”

Beth blinks, glances back at him, and his face isn’t open, but it isn’t so closed either – an unfamiliar, familiar expression there instead. Something she doesn’t get. And just - - god. She sniffs, shifts her weight on the bristly carpet.

“Learn anything from what?”

And she sees it then, the inhale, the way he pushes his tongue into his lower lip, before dropping his head and huffing out a laugh. He slaps his hands down on his knees and gets up out of his crouch, glancing over at Annie and Ruby, still staring tentatively at them from a few feet away, and then over to Mick.

“Take their cut.”

“What?” Annie squawks as Beth’s chest lurches, her sister finding her voice and standing up a little taller, hands still clutching the first aid kit to her chest. “Why?”

“You try to cut deals behind my back, I cut your pay, that’s how this works,” Rio supplies easily, shrugging a little, and Beth rolls her eyes when he turns back to look down at her and adds: “Ain’t that right, darlin’?”

She leaves it just a moment, before she smiles, and even though it makes her face sting, she makes it look an easy, too-sweet thing.

“Right, boss.”

It’s enough to make Rio hum, and she knows he likes it – can read that much at least – and he sways a little closer again as Mick steps around them, a strange, stifled sound in the back of his throat when he grabs the bag of cash off the ottoman and starts towards the hallway, and she swears he swaps a look with Ruby, but - -

Oh, Beth thinks, a shiver erupting through her when she feels Rio’s fingers brush her temple, feels them push her hair back off her face, and she knows her eyes are wide when she looks at him, can feel her breath caught, and when he says:

“Maybe work on that pitch of yours, yeah?”

She thinks I will, and when he slips out afterwards, and Annie and Ruby erupt into chatter, she thinks - -

She thinks - -

Next time.

Touch prompts.

#this was really interesting to write #i think i've been writing so much that's a part of series like c&c or au's like the pirate au lately i haven't really written much canon on #and this isn't really canon of course #haha #but potential canon?#idk!#it was p fun to write #especially coming off the back of rewatch #writing them a bit more acidic again is fun #anyway #beth x rio #my fic #nbc good girls #beth boland #rio #welcome to my ama #Anonymous

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rawiswhore · 3 years

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Triple H, the Renegade x Fem Reader- "Suicide Solution"

During the 1990's, there was a professional wrestler named the Renegade, an Ultimate Warrior knockoff who wrestled in a company known as WCW, which, for a while, had higher ratings than the WWF (which was once the most popular wrestling company in the world, and still is today, although now is known as the WWE).

The Renegade was such an Ultimate Warrior knockoff, some wrestling fans thought he was the Ultimate Warrior.

How stupid do you have to be to think they're the same person?

Although, it wasn't the Renegade's fault he had Ultimate Warrior rip-off gimmick, WCW wanted to create the next UW, so they did that to the Renegade.

Didn't they already have Sting, whose character then had Ultimate Warrior-esque facepaint yet his character was a surfer?

The world has one Ultimate Warrior, it doesn't need another!

The Renegade ditched the crunchy looking mullet, face paint and singlet by 1996, and he looked so much more handsome and sexy when he got rid of those things.

However, unlike Sting, NWO and Goldberg over in WCW or even Bret Hart, the Undertaker, Mick Foley, Shawn Michaels and Stone Cold over in the WWF, the Renegade barely went anywhere.

He wasn't obscure like Scott Putski, but most wrestling fans don't consider the Renegade to be a great wrestler.

By the time the 1990's was almost over, WCW fired the Renegade, which made him spiral into a depression, and he couldn't find work anywhere else.

He was probably too campy and childish for the WWF that was now going through its Attitude era and especially for ECW, a wrestling company known for being serious, edgy, gritty and violent.

What did the Renegade end up doing?

Committing suicide.

He could've worked as a male model in music videos or on the covers of those corny paperback romance novels, or even worked as a porn star or male stripper (which was his previous job before becoming a wrestler!), he probably would've been better off doing those things instead of wrestling, considering he wasn't that great of a wrestler.

You had a crush on the Renegade when he stopped wearing facepaint and singlets, you even wish you could've been a ringrat during the late 90's instead of Hunter Hearst Helmsley's valet, because you were under the WWF's contract and not allowed to cross over to other wrestling companies.

If you were a ringrat, you would fuck any wrestler you fancied in the WWF, WCW and ECW.

In the summer of 1997, when the roster of the WWF and WCW exercised in the same gym together, you invited not only the sexiest men in the WWF to fuck you in the locker room, but also who you thought were the hottest men in WCW as well, and one of those men was the Renegade.

You've masturbated a few times to the Renegade on television as well as fantasized of him while you masturbated, fantasizing of him wrapping his huge muscular arms around you and your hands squeezing on his huge biceps, running your fingers through his long hair and caressing his bare torso and arms in baby oil.

You even sent him a few letters and emails gushing over how hot he is and how you wish you could be with him.

Shortly after the Renegade's suicide, Triple H had broke to you the terrible news.

He as well as other professional wrestlers remembered that day when you got gangbanged by some of the WWF and WCW roster in a Gold's Gym locker room, Trips was even one of the men who fucked you in that locker room, of course, and so was the Renegade.

He and other pro wrestlers in the WWF knew about your crush on the Renegade.

When you heard the news of the Renegade killing himself, your jaw dropped open and your eyes grew wide, tears began to dwell in your eyes and stream down your face.

It felt like the wind had been punched right out of you and your heart was ripped out of your chest.

You shut your eyes and buried your face into Triple H's chest, where you sobbed into his chest while he wrapped his arms around you, your tears stained into his T-shirt.

Triple H explained that the Renegade had suffered from depression after being released from WCW and not finding work anywhere else.

The Renegade didn't have to kill himself, even if he was depressed.

You wish you could've comforted the Renegade's broken heart, but sadly, you can't since you're under the WWF's contract.

Besides, telling someone to cheer up when they have depression is like saying the cure to asthma is to breathe or telling a homeless person to buy a house.

You didn't even know about the Renegade and his depression, but that's the thing with depression; people hide it, just look at Robin Williams.

You're someone who was like that as well, happy and smiling on "Monday Night Raw" and backstage, but dying on the inside occasionally.

Triple H's arms were stroking up and down your chest, not in a sexual way, but trying to comfort you.

He didn't just embrace you, but kissed the top of your head, some of his fingers stroked your hair, but again, not sexually.

You sobbed hysterically, collapsing to the floor and your face in the palms of your hands crying, where Triple H tried to console you and comfort you, picking you up and telling you not to cry so hard.

You nearly hyperventilated, but hopefully you won't have to go to a mental hospital.

You cried that entire day, even though you tried not to do it since you shouldn't cry in public, and many other wrestlers in the WWF comforted you by hugging you, you cried whilst your face was buried in their chests.

You had felt sleepy and tired from crying that day, but you didn't fall asleep until nighttime.

Sometimes, because you cried that day, you also felt angry and wanted to lash out, but you didn't, you tried to control yourself and your anger, although you really weren't that angry.

Triple H consoled you that night, you sobbed into his chest while he wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head.

You didn't have sex that night, but you cried yourself to sleep.

When you woke up that morning, your eyes were still damp and wet.

You wish you could've attended the Renegade's funeral, but you couldn't due to being under the WWF's contract.

Despite you lost someone you had a crush on, you still managed to try to cope and keep up, that's what you've always done.

It just got even worse after the Renegade's death, because the Ravishing Rick Rude died in April that year, and he was one of the first members of D Generation X, even though many people have said he was a completely pointless and unnecessary member.

You weren't close to Rick, but you can still remember him, and you even thought of doing something slightly inspired by what he used to do during his heyday, where he'd invite a female fan to the ring after a match and kiss her, although you'd invite a sexy male fan into the ring after a match and give him a lapdance.

If that wasn't bad enough, the following month, Owen Hart had died when he entered the ring through the ceiling.

You broke down and bawled to the floor crying over Owen's death, and even worse, the episode still went on after Owen had died.

You weren't close to Owen, but he was someone you worked with and he was such a nice, friendly, likeable person who would never hurt a fly and loved his family.

Owen was way too nice and wholesome for the WWF's raunchy Attitude era, which even Owen himself didn't like because of the negativity it promoted, but Owen was probably one of the few kid friendly wrestlers during the WWF's naughty Attitude era, an era of antiheroes, raunch, violence and shock value.

Not to mention, Darren Drozdoff, or Droz as he's known as, had become paralyzed by accident during a wrestling match, and since 1999, he's been in a wheelchair and can't walk.

Again, you weren't all that close to Droz, but it's still sad he can't wrestle or walk anymore.

You suffered a lot of anxiety in the WWF that year, you were afraid many other wrestlers would either die or become paralyzed.

You ended up developing depression that year, and by the summer of 2000, you had left the WWF due to your depression and sex addiction.

But you were even more depressed during the summer of 2000 because there were so many hot, sexy men in the WWF like Christian, Jeff Hardy, Test and even Val Venis, as well as some hotties over in WCW and ECW, which were on its last legs, and you were upset you couldn't fuck them and be with them that summer because you were in a mental hospital and sex rehab.

However, your dream of being in WCW and ECW came true at the end of the year 2000, where you had some stints in ECW as well as WCW, and you appeared in the WWF part time by the end of the year 2000, having moments with a lot of hot wrestlers.

Although, you were somewhat depressed during your time and heyday in the WWF, because Brian Pillman, who you were close to, had died in 1997, and you were furious over Shawn Michaels and Triple H's insensitivity and disrespect to others in 1997/1996 backstage, and this was before they formed their D Generation X duo.

Triple H and Shawn Michaels backstage were massive jerks, especially Shawn, even when they weren't playing their DX characters on "Monday Night Raw".

You nearly even left the WWF in 1997 because of how disrespectful they were backstage, although you could at least leave them for someone like Billy Gunn, Bret Hart, Davey Boy Smith or Jeff Hardy.

Shawn and Triple H regretted their disrespect and disregard for others, and they hated seeing you in so much pain.

When you left the WWF in the summer of 2000, you actually did visit the Renegade's grave, where you crouched down to the ground and your hand caressed over his grave.

You didn't sexually caress his grave, just give it a little stroke.

You actually kneeled on the ground and kissed the top of his grave, not making out with it, but just giving it a gentle kiss.

Every year, on the anniversary of his death, you visited the Renegade's grave, kneeled on the ground and gave his grave a kiss, placing a bouquet of roses on top of his grave.

Sometimes, when you attend his grave, you have tears streaming down your face, and sometimes these tears have dropped onto his grave.

You didn't wipe those tears on his grave, you wanted them to be there.

In 2002, Davey Boy Smith/the British Bulldog had died of a heart attack, and this sent you into a state of panic, crying hysterically.

He was no longer in the WWF, which had then changed its name to the WWE, but you were really close to Davey, and you attended his funeral.

On the anniversary of his death every year, you visit Davey's grave, kiss his tombstone and give his grave a bouquet of roses.

On social media, on the anniversary of their deaths, you make a post of a deceased wrestler's remembrance, posting a picture of that departed wrestler or wrestling icon.

When it's the anniversary of a wrestler's death, if they've been buried, you attend their grave and give them a bouquet of flowers or roses.

You even attend the grave of a deceased famous person that you loved growing up during the anniversary of their death, setting down a bouquet on their grave.

Every year, on the anniversary of the Renegade's death, you attend the grave of a wrestler who wasn't all that great, but at least he seemed to want to be taken seriously, he was even trained by Killer Kowalski, who trained other wrestling icons like Triple H and Chyna.

Unlike who the Renegade stole his gimmick from, the Ultimate Warrior, who didn't care about training.

This is actually a true statement, many wrestlers have criticized the Ultimate Warrior for his lack of technique and in-ring psychology, and I've seen many wrestling fans criticize the Ultimate Warrior.

Hopefully the Renegade wasn't difficult to work with and an insensitive jerk like the Ultimate Warrior was.

#triple h #the renegade #trigger warning #tw #1999 #90s #wwf #wcw #attitude era #wwf attitude #fanfiction

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mickmarstookmyheart · 4 years

Text

Family Tour pt 3 (Trust Universe)

Warnings: domestic violence

Pairing: Mick Mars x Reader

You couldn't compare the pain you were in. This pain. Not in your head but the disappointment in John. You really thought he changed, but he didn't. When you started to come back to life you heard murmuring. You could hardly make out any words but it was John's and a stranger's. The door closed and it was quiet again. You lifted your head and wanted to touch it desperately, though your hands were tied to the chair you were sitting on.

"Good. You are finally awake." He murmured while pulling another chair with himself and sitting in front of you.

"Where is she?" You inquired jerking your head sideways.

"Don't worry. She is with Heather." He sighed.

"Then why couldn't you just say that? Instead of kicking me out?"

"You would ruin my plan. And I would be pretty angry if you would do that."

"What plan?"

"None of your business."

"It clearly includes Zoe so it's fucking my business, too. John, what the fuck do you want? Why are you doing this?"

"You thought I changed? I only wanted a family with Zoe and you, whereas you didn't want that. You humiliated me in front of many people who think I'm a monster, however you are the one who cheated on me and fucked the whole family up. Our family. You managed to send me to jail, too, and you were sure you will get away with it this easily? Oh, darling, no. Then you don't know me." You heard a knock on the door. "Must be your husband." You were about to shout but John pressed his palm on your mouth. He put his finger on his lips as a sign to be quiet. "If you scream you will never see Zoe again." He threatened. You slightly nodded, tears running down your cheek. He searched in his bag for a couple of minutes when someone knocked again. "In a minute." He yelled. When he finished he walked to you with duck tape in his hand. He cut a piece and put on your lips. "Now you can scream if you want. But I wouldn't do it."

He opened the door and smirked when he saw Mick who was completely worried.

"Hey, man."

"Hi. What is it?" John asked, leaning on the frame.

"Might sound weird but have you seen (Y/N)?" He rubbed the back of his head. "She wasn't in the room and I couldn't find her anywhere."

"I saw her last night when she said goodnight to Zoe then no. She got a phone call at the reception then she ran away without saying anything."

"Speaking of. Thank you for bringing Zoe back to Heather. I appreciate it."

"No problem, man. I know my limits. By the way, if you see (Y/N), would you tell her that I'm gonna leave the town? I have some work to do."

"Yeah sure. Also, do you know who she got the phone call from?"

"I think it was her mother but I'm not so sure." Mick hummed. He knew you completely cut all your connections to your mother so it was odd that she called you. Maybe it was about your dad. "She mentioned his dad or something."

"Ok, thank you again and bye." Mick held his hand to John who shook it. After Mick left the hallway, John closed the door and went back to the room he put you in. You were struggling with the ropes on your wrists.

"My sweet wife. You are wasting time and energy. That rope won't give up. It's not that kind of rope we used back in the days. If you know what I mean." You glared at the man you couldn't believe you married to years ago. You felt a kind of rage you felt at your wedding when you had a fight with your mom. "You know, sometimes I'm wondering if that man can satisfy you. I mean, with that back, I don't think so."

John continued to piss you off. You knew it was his plan to distract you, but he wouldn't manage. You gathered all your patience and tried to stay calm and concentrate on planning. "Oh, my bad. You can't answer with this thing on your mouth. Let me take this off." He pulled down the tape surprisingly carefully.

"You fucking cunt." You spit. "You abusive, mischievous, creepy psycho."

"Wow, is that it? Come on, (Y/N). You can do better than that." He chuckled crossing his arms.

∆

After leaving John, Mick headed towards the reception to ask about that phone call your ex was talking about. "Good morning, ma'am. Last night, my wife got a phone call and I would like to know when. Do you remember or does anyone know?"

"What's her name?"

"(Y/N) Mars. She is with the band, she was wearing black clothes I think."

"Umm, I don't think I met her. Though I will ask around if any of my colleagues saw her. Be right back, sir."

"Thanks," Mick said and started to calm himself down. He was walking in the lobby in circles when Doc stood in the guitarist's way.

"Hey, Mick. Have you seen, (Y/N)? She promised me we will meet in the café this morning but she hasn't turned up yet. She has to do some calls." Doc stated with a tone of annoyance. Doc was kind and friendly until everyone does their job.

"That's my problem, too. And I'm worried sick. I haven't seen her since last night and I can't find her anywhere." He sat down on the couch and placed his face in his palms while resting his elbows on his knees.

"Don't worry, Mick. I'm sure it's nothing. Maybe she just went out a bit. A lot has been going on. The tour and the stress about John. Anyway, have you spoken to him?" Doc asked while taking a seat next to Mick cautiously.

"Just came from him. He said that she got a call and then left. But she would've written note if she went out, wouldn't she? She is not the person to go anywhere without letting anyone know. And she wouldn't have left without Zoe."

"You are right about Zoe. Would you like me to talk to the guys to help you find (Y/N)? I'm sure they would happily help."

"Yeah. That's a great idea, Doc."

∆

"NO! You don't dare. You won't take her away."

"Why not? You would've gladly done the same, no? Bringing her here...to the tour."

"What are you talking about? That was completely different! You are free to visit her, talk to her, and even take her nearby."

"No, you don't understand. You don't know what it's like not seeing her every day, not talking to her, ask about her day even if we spend it together. The amount of time I spent at the jail made me realize that the only important thing, is her. She means everything to me and you are about to steal her from me, (Y/N)."

"You are mad. You are the one who is talking about kidnapping her! It wasn't my intention to take her from you. I even let you see her, let you here while I'm not fond of that. She deserves a life, a family who loves and protects her."

"You mean a family who is always on road, tours with drugs, alcohol, and whores? A child needs a proper house with a proper background."

"Don't dare to tell me how should I treat her!"

"I do whatever I want." You huffed.

"What did you tell him?" You asked after a couple of minutes.

"Who?"

"Mick, you fucking dick! What did you tell to him?"

"That I haven't seen you since last night...."

"What more?"

"...that you got a phone call from your mom."

"Ha! He exactly knows that I cut everything from her."

"But what if it's about your dad? You would be concerned about him, no?"

"Piece of shit. Okay, now enough. Let me go, John. Stop this ridiculous game you are playing. I understand everything and I'm sorry, okay? Just let me go."

"I'm sorry but I can't do that."

∆

"Zoe, please come here," Mick called for your daughter who was climbing on the wall at the playground. She nodded and jumped down as smooth as she was a stuntwoman and approached Mick.

"Yes, daddy?" She sat on the bench and listened with all ears.

"Can I ask something?"

"Sure." She nodded.

"Did mommy said something last night while you were at...at your dad's place?"

"That she will come back to give me a goodnight kiss as usual."

"Sorry, I wasn't clear. When she went over the second time."

"She wasn't there for the second time." Mick's blood froze in his veins.

"What do you mean she wasn't there?"

"Well, she brought me to dad and then didn't come again. While I was sleeping dad brought me back to Aunt Heather and Uncle Tommy. Why? Is mommy in trouble?" She tilted her head pouting.

"I hope not, darling." He pulled the little girl closer and placed a kiss on the top of her head. Mick gulped starting to realize what happened to you. "But I need you to promise me something. I would like you to stay here and don't go anywhere. Not even with dad, alright?" Mick didn't want to say 'especially with dad' as he didn't want to scare her.

"Alright, daddy. Now can I go back and play?"

"Of course, angel." The girl set off back to her friends and Mick watched her every step.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N)!" Tommy yelled while forming a cup from his hands.

"Keep it quiet, man. My head is pounding like hell from your voice." Nikki complained as he and his Terror Twin were walking down the hallways searching you.

"Dude, I'm trying to find (Y/N). (Y/N)!" He continued.

"But she isn't deaf." Nikki slapped Tommy's hands.

"Nikki, we have to find her. Doc is out of his mind and so is Mick. We can't perform like this."

"Both of them are always pissed off."

"Then...there won't be any more alcohol or clubs cause (Y/N) was charged with that if I remember well." Nikki's eyes went round and immediately started shouting your name.

"(Y/N)!!!"

John opened the door, peeked his head out to see if anyone was in the hallway.

"We are going (Y/N). Pack your stuff." John stated earning an odd look from you. A line appeared between your brows and you had question marks above your head.

"Where exactly? Not that I want to."

"Not so far, don't worry." He sighed as he was searching in his bag and smiled when he found the knife. He chuckled when he saw your facial expression. "Oh, (Y/N), I'm not gonna kill you. Do I look like a killer?!" He bent down to your legs.

"Honestly? Yes." You spit as he has begun to cut the ropes on your legs to free them.

"I know what you are thinking. If you try to escape somehow, you won't ever see Zoe."

"Yeah, you have told it many times now. It's about to get boring you know."

"And I'm not sure if Mick will be the guitarist in this band, too." You tried to stay calm, you did. You didn't say a word just in case.

When he finished cutting the ropes he grabbed your arm tightly and dragged you to the corridor after glancing around again. You flinched from the pain he giving you also your head still ached from last night. A key was in his hand and opened the door in front of you. As soon as it was opened he pushed you carelessly making you fall almost on your face. This time, you managed to protect your head.

"So what is your plan exactly?" You asked while picking you up in bride style and dropped on the bed. He climbed on the top of you making you gasp. "Get off me!" He pinned your hands above your head with his hands and your legs with his.

"You know, I would say that make-up sex is working for me, but it doesn't. Also, I don't have the time for that." You heard a click and you looked up to see that he handcuffed you. He was still so close you could feel his breath on your face which made you sick. "But the last kiss has a meaning..." Before you could understand what he said he pressed his lips on yours. As an answer you bit his lips hard, making it bleed. "You son of a..." He cursed while touching his lips with his fingers cautiously.

∆

"Hey, Heather!" John yelled to the actress while smiling at her. She was in front of their shared room with Tommy. Tommy and Nikki were still away walking around in the hotel to find you.

"Hi, John. What's up? What happened to you?" She raised a brow.

"Why? Oh, you mean this?" He asked pointing at his wound. "I...I just have really dry lips usually and I smiled way too much, haha." He scratched the back of his head.

"If you say so. Anyway, why are you still here?" Heather was one of the few people whom John tolerated and yet he was still ready to get her from his way if needed.

"I would like to see Zoe for the last time if possible."

"Oh pity, she is not with me. She is with Mick at the playground." She informed John.

"I see. Well, thank you and goodbye, Heather." He forced another smile and left the actress there. He rushed to the elevator and hoped no one would see him. He didn't count any change in the plan. His original plan was to take Zoe from Heather since she was with her most of the time. Well, nothing can go easily, right?! The man was stomping his feet and was angrily pushing the button constantly. When he stepped in, the door was closing and he was relieved for a moment. A foot stopped the closing door which opened again. John saw that the foot belonged to Izzy and Axl.

"Hey, man." Izzy greeted the now sweating and pissed man. Axl stood next to him and behind Izzy.

"What are you doing here? I thought you have already left." Axl glanced from the corner of his eye.

"Um, I heard from (Y/N) and I wanted to tell Mick personally." This was the only reasonable lie he could tell. He was hoping they will eat it.

"Why, what happened to her?"

"You didn't know? She left yesterday and still hasn't come back. But, now I know why. His father had an accident and since he is very important to her she left as soon as she got the call." John was quite satisfied with himself.

"So that's why those idiots were yelling all day." Izzy rolled his eyes.

"And what about you, guys? Are you ready for the night?" He tried to change the subject.

"I think so," Axl answered, still gazing suspiciously, John. Luckily, they arrived on the ground floor, and as soon the door opened John rushed past Izzy almost making him fell.

"Hey, man. Couldn't you just wait?" He snapped rubbing his arm.

"So sorry, man. I just really need to speak to Mick." Axl crossed his arms and watched John's every step. The singer's cold stare dug a hole in John's back making him walk faster. The playground was almost empty, only Zoe could John spot. He couldn't see the guitarist. It was his last chance. He ran to the happy girl who could be found in the swing giggling. "Hey, Zoe." The little girl's eyes lit up and jumped down from the swing.

"Dad!" She ran to him and hugged his legs. John felt love. Though only for his daughter. He wanted to give Zoe the whole world and he was willing to give everything up.

"What are you doing here all alone?" He asked while he picked her daughter up and glanced around.

"Daddy went to grab some chocolate and orange juice."

"Oh, I see. Well, what do you think about going to McDonald's and drink there? We could eat some burgers, too." He smirked.

"Daddy told me to stay here. I don't want to break the rules."

"But they always break the rules. And they are still here." John started to walk to the hall.

"I know. But they are adults. Dad, do you know where mommy is? I would like to play with her."

"Of course, I know. Would like me to bring you to her?" The girl's answer was nodding with bright smiles. John kept his way out of the hotel with Zoe in his arms.

∆

"I'm so sorry." Steven apologized now for the 5th time.

"Actually, it wasn't our fault. One of our so-called "colleagues" came in and smash everything. He somehow stole the key or just broke in." Duff explained while looking at the mess Tommy made in their shared room with Steven. The cleaning lady's eyes were wide and were quite speechless.

"You know, I have seen a lot of things. But this...whatever. Go down the reception and get another room. I will deal with this." She sighed and started to clean the room not even knowing where to start. TV on the floor, at least this time not on someone's car, glass all over the floor with blood. The boys glanced at the room one more time and headed to the reception. When they arrived in the hall they noticed Zoe and John rush to the exit.

"Zoe, hey!" Steven spotted the little girl.

"Popcorn!" She giggled.

"They are fucking everywhere. I can't believe..." John murmured so quietly not even Zoe heard.

"Dad put me down. I want to hug Popcorn and Duff."

"Don't you like to see mommy?" He asked nervously. Duff narrowed his eyes trying to hear what their conversation is about.

"Why is he still here?" He asked Steven who was making silly faces to your daughter.

"I don't know. Let's go and ask." When John saw that the two musicians approached Zoe and him, his jaws tightened and his breaths quickened. "Hey, man."

"Hey. What's up?" His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths and rolled his shoulders.

"Are you alright? Let me take Zoe..." Steven reached for the girl who also held his arms towards the drummer, but John pulled her away.

"Stop." He snapped. "Just stop and leave her alone. You...you are not good for her."

"Okay, you have serious problems, man." Duff pointed at John.

"Who has serious problems?" Mick asked while trying to balance the orange juices in his hands. He almost dropped them when he saw Zoe with John. "Zoe, I told you to stay there. It has been only 5 minutes!"

"I know, but dad told me he knows where mum is...and please don't be angry at me. I'm so sorry." She pouted.

"I'm not angry at you, honey. More like on your dad. What do you think you are doing?" He turned to John when they heard loud irritating shouting.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N)!" Tommy and Nikki yelled. "She is not here. I don't have any more ideas, dude."

"Me neither, man. Hey, what is happening there?" Mick rolled his eyes, Duff and Steven sent death glares toward Nikki and mainly Tommy. "Why are you staring at me like that?

"Cause you fucking blow up our room. And that's not fucking cool."

"Oh? So sorry, man. I don't remember." He chuckled. "Anyway, what is this gathering? Did we miss something?" This was the last drop for John. Without saying anything he turned around and started running.

"Dad, why are you running?" Zoe giggled. She didn't understand anything. Mick's blood froze in his veins, the other's mouth dropped open.

"What are you waiting for? Go and catch him!" Mick screamed and pushed the guys. Steven was the first one to realize what was happening and set off grabbing Duff's arm and dragging him, too. The Terror Twins hesitated at first but followed them along with Mick.

∆

"Rose, Stradlin! Where the hell is Steven and Duff? They should be here now." Doc looked at his watch and growled.

"We don't know. Though we haven't seen (Y/N) either."

"Still? Where that girl can be?" He sighed.

"Anna, can you give me the key for room 24? I will prepare it for the band's. The other one needs more cleaning but my back already hurts." The cleaning lady leaned on the counter waiting for the key.

"Sure." She turned her back to get the keys from the wall. "Umm, are you sure about the number? I can't see the key."

"Yes. Why don't you flick through in the book?"

"Good idea." She opened the book which they registered the room numbers with the guests' names. "It says it's an empty room. No reservation on it. Pretty interesting."

"Let's go and try to open with the master key." The two women left the reception and walked upstairs. "Do you hear it, too?" They heard yelling and loud knocks. Axl and Izzy were standing in front of John's room.

"Open the fucking door. Or else we will break-in." The singer shouted.

"I wouldn't advise it." The receptionist crossed her arms and glared at the two men. "Can I help you?"

"Umm, our friend is missing, for now, a day and some of our bandmates, too. We just have a strong feeling that the guy who this room belongs to knows something." Izzy murmured gesturing at the door.

"Interesting. Well, I can't help you with that but another strange thing happened. Maybe it has something to do with your case."

"Really? And what exactly?" Axl asked walking next to the cleaning lady and Anna.

"A key is missing, though it wasn't registered. And this hasn't happened in months." Anna held the key tight in her hand and turned it in the lock. When they opened it, the cleaning lady almost faint. Anna clutched her chest.

"(Y/N)?!" Axl gulped seeing you on the bed with a black eye and blood on your face and wrists as you tried hard to escape managing to cut your skin. Your mouth was still patched with duck tape. "Let me help." He started to pull the tape cautiously as Izzy tried to get the handcuffs off.

"Zoe. Umm. Zoe. John." You panicked.

"(Y/N), calm down. Anyway, what happened?"

"John happened. And listen to me! John is trying to take Zoe away! I don't how much time has passed since he left me here but I don't think he is in the hotel now." You rubbed your wrists and stood up but your knees were week and you almost fell on the floor. Izzy caught you and helped you back on the bed.

"Is that true, madam? If yes, I need to call the police."

"That's a good idea. Thank you." Izzy thanked and whirled around. Your eyes welled up and your body was shaking.

"Please, calm down. We will go and figure out what the hell is happening. Would take care of her?" Axl asked from the cleaning lady. She nodded and start to search for the first aid kit in the drawer.

"You don't have to take care of me! I'm okay. I need to find my daughter." You whimpered.

"No, you are gonna stay here. I will send someone here." Izzy assured.

∆

"Dude, I need to quit smoking. My lungs hurt!" Tommy panted as they were chasing John and Zoe.

"Stop him!" Duff yelled to the people in the street. They weren't so helpful.

"Dad, out me down! I don't like this game." She cried.

"Finally!" John smirked. He rushed to the yellow cab and hopped in. "Go!"

"And where?" The driver asked.

"Just go!"

∆

Next Part

Tags: @leatherandheels @safari-karrot @littlemisscare-all ❤️

I know. I know.

#motley crue #glam rock #rocknroll #80srock #mick mars #80s music #nikki sixx #vince neil #tommy lee #mick mars x reader #mick mars imagine #motley crue imagin #motley crue x reader

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cruecifymesixx · 4 years

Text

Love and Leather /part Sixxty Seven/

Word Count: 8K

A/N: it has to get worse before it can get better. Two part chapter, almost done with the second part and I’ll have it out later this week. I’m pairing ‘Someone You Loved’ from the playlist

Warnings: Drugs, Language, Angst, Nikki being a fucking asshole

Taglist: @brideofdraculana , @xstarryeyesx , @aryssav , @miserablecunt @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol , @fandomshit6000, @anntheboneless, @venus-calum, @justjodeye, @hi-my-name-is-riley, @extremesadnerding, @thatbandchick39, @awkwrdcait, @countrygirlswonderland, @awesomealmostdopestudent, @romanticvengeance , @tashy-bear, @krazykatkay456, @terror-triplet, @shouttatthedevill @beachystars, @rodriguez025, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @s-outhie, @anxious-diabetic, @awkwardblackgirls, @rockersbox, @brooklyn-antiques, @shamelessobsessions, @jerseytaint, @lilytalebi, @criminalyetminimal, @motley-queen, @trapt-in-a-dream, @lunamadhatter99, @broke-n-bitchy, , @thanks2pete, @slowandangry, @lovesick-heart0, @keepcalm-and-beyou, @miriampraez, @teenwolflover28, @lilyhw1, @motherloovebone, @random-internet-user-4471, @falcon-arrows, @talranocchia2001, @wheresmyvodkabitch, @waywardprincess666, @iluvmesomemarvelndc, @zoenicoles, @vamprlestat, @supersoldierballerina, @primal-screamer@electradestiny, @marshbev, @n0-sh0rtage-0f-faults, @cruebaby, @ggorehorror, @valentines-in-london, @miss2001babe, @nassauartist @cmft-jr-winchester, @bokkie92, @notworthyofyou1120 @xrosegoldwolfx, @lauravic, @mgkobsessed, @chaoticvybe@kellysimagines @thoughtsoftheantagonist @marvelismylifffe, @sleepyjunhong @lovemythsworld @meetthesixxter @sparxx27 @gingerspicetalks @kaitieskidmore1 @unknownoblivion @siliwanoel @nevergoodenuffbutokaaayyy @sublimeprincesswasteland @kylieinwonderland @haileynicoleseavey17 @lavendersoundbarrier @ijustwanttokiss70srogertaylor, @duffshairdye, @xpoisonousrosesx, @m0rnlngstar, @cranberrirolls, @oskea93, @love-struck-aries, @idumpyourgrass, @minxtruck, @i-want-to-shoot-myself, @cruesixxlover1991, @arianareirg, @fentitrbl, @dogmom2014, @sinningsixx, @motleycrueprincess

*flashback, Nikki’s POV*

-August 1990-

I shook my head, groaning as I pushed through the outside doors and took a deep breath in as I exhaled. Tommy and Vince had dragged me out to a bar while we were home on break. The two left me as they went to sit with some girls who were all over them. I sat down near a fire pit and kicked my boots up on the concrete as I lit a cigarette. I much rather be at home with Van. But, she told me to go out and try to have fun.

I heard a click of pointy heels, “You mind if I sit here?” I looked over at a short woman wearing a little tight black dress as she had a polite smile on her face.

“Go ahead.” I motioned to the chair and scooted over a bit to give her more room to sit down. I exhaled cigarette smoke and listened to the music. Thank god it wasn’t Mötley.

“So, what are you doing in this dump?” The woman asked as I looked over and saw her stick a cigarette between her lips and light it.

I shrugged, “Just out with the guys. But they’re in there and I’m out here.” I took a sip of my water, “You?”

She had a cute little smile, “With some girlfriends of mine. I’m Brandi.” She stuck out her French manicured hand as I gently took it in mine and shook it.

”Nikki.” I let go of her hand, “Can I get you a drink?” I asked, pointing to her empty glass. She handed it over to me, “Malibu sunrise, you look familiar Nikki.”

I let out a laugh, “I get that a lot.” I stopped a passing by cocktail waitress and ordered Brandi her drink, “Can’t say I’ve seen you before. I’m sure I would’ve remembered you.” I looked away from her for a moment, taking a long sip. I shouldn’t of said that.

“Really? I’ve been in a few magazines and a few music videos.” She explained as I nodded.

“I don’t pay much attention to the pop culture shit unless it involves me or my band.”

Brandi laughed as she crossed her leg over her knee and pushed her hair out of her eyes, “The Cure? I’m a Playboy and was also in Aerosmith’s ‘Love In An Elevator’ music video.”

I chuckled, “Change the spelling a bit and you’ll get the Crüe.” I smiled, seeing the cocktail waitress come back over as I paid her and handed Brandi her drink, “Oh? Love Aerosmith but I must’ve missed the video, and probably the last few editions of Playboy.”

“Ah, Mötley Crüe. That’s right.” She chewed on her bottom lip, “You have a girl waiting at home for you? That’s such a shame.”

I swallowed the lump in the back of my throat, “Yeah, I have a fiancé at home, but I don’t think it’s a shame.”

“Oh? So you’re really serious then?” She questioned, I answered with a nod. I watched as she sighed through her purse before pulling out a small baggie of white powder. She raises an eyebrow, “You wanna?”

I looked at the bag she was extending out to me in her palm. I pushed her hand back to her, “I’m sober. Just got out of rehab a while ago.”

Brandi shrugged, “More for me. Rehab? How lame.” She spoke before dipping her nail into the bag and snorting it off.

I exhaled deeply and looked towards the fire, “I’d rather not be blitzed out of my mind. It’s better for everyone around me.”

Brandi wiped her nose, looking at me with her head tilted to the side, “So, you don’t do blow and you have fiancé? So interesting.” She leaned forward, her push up bra was doing its job clearly.

I can look, but I can’t touch.

My eyes glanced down at her tits for a moment before looking back at her, “And you pose for Playboy and also use the famed coke diet. Is that how all of you stay skinny?”

Brandi laughed, “You’re so funny, Nikki.” I chuckled a bit as she scooted closer to me. She reached out and touched my arm, her finger tracing the skull on my forearm, “I love tattoos. I have a few but you can only see them when I’m naked.”

I let out an amused grunt, pulling my arm away from her, “Is that what you say to every guy?”

She smiled, her doe like eyes staring into mine. They were almost golden with the help of the flames in front of us. They weren’t a natural gold like Vans. But damn, they were still pretty.

“No, that’s the first time I’ve ever used it. Did it work?” She questioned, her nails now cascading up and down my skin.

“Maybe if I wasn’t getting married soon and was single it would. Then I could see what’s under that dress of yours.” I licked my lips as her hand ran over my mine.

“Who says you can’t play around? I don’t see a ring on your finger.” She smiled, giving my hand a light squeeze.

I studied her. I’m Nikki Fucking Sixx. I can get anyone to drop to their knees for me. I’ve done horrible, disgusting, vile things to chicks all because they asked me too. Because I pulled them from the crowd and they said they’d do anything for me. Chicks would let me do whatever the hell I wanted, fucking them with a liquor bottle, passing them around to Tommy and Vince and then back to me. Shit, they still wanted to fuck me even when I hadn’t showered in weeks. All because my name is Nikki Sixx. And now what? I was about to end my reign of being the king of sleaze to settle down and have a forever with Vanity.

Maybe I could be that Nikki Sixx one last time for a final hoorah.

I ran my hand up her inner thigh, stopping at the bottom hem of the silky black dress, “True, I don’t have a ring.”

“Yo Sixx!” I quickly jumped out of the chair to face Tommy. He glanced at me, raising an eyebrow before shaking his head in disapproval, “Sorry to interrupt but Vince and Mick are ready to go.”

I cleared my throat, trying to shake off my nerves as I looked at Brandi, “Oh, uh okay. Well umm it was nice meeting you Brandi.”

“Brandi Brandt? The Playboy model? I’ve seen your stuff and you are fuckin hot!” Tommy chimed as Brandi giggled and nodded.

She stood up, placing her hands on my chest as she reached up and gave me a kiss on the cheek, “Hope to see you again rockstar.”

I smiled at her, watching her turn to leave and head back inside the bar. It wasn’t a bad sight.

“Ow! What the fuck?” I groaned, holding my stomach as a tommy had hit me pretty hard

“Uh? You need something to wipe up that drool? Maybe wipe that lipstick off too before you go home to your fiancé?” I glared at him when he emphasized fiancé.

I rolled my eyes, “I wasn’t going to do shit, T-bone.” I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand, seeing bubblegum pink lipstick on my skin.

“Hey man-“ Tommy puts his hands up in defense, “That’s your death wish and funeral.”

Anarchy greeted me at the front door as I walked in and locked it back up, “Hey sweet girl.” I patted the top of her head, dropping my car keys in the bowl on the entry way table. I walked up the stairs slowly, hearing the TV at a low volume coming from our bedroom. I walked in, seeing Vanity sleeping on top of the blankets in the middle of our bed with the side lamp still on.

I sighed, why was I fucking flirting with her? I shook off my thoughts before kicking off my boots and getting undressed. I crawled onto the bed, gently moving her over and carefully pulling the blankets down so I wouldn’t wake her. I got in bed beside her, throwing the blankets over us as I slung my arm over her waist and pulled her to me.

I felt so god damn fucking guilty, even if I technically didn’t do anything but technically I did do something if I felt guilty about it. I closed my eyes and kissed the back of Vanity’s head as I breathed in the smell of her coconut shampoo, her hair was still a tad bit damp.

Vanity turned in my arms as she nuzzled her face into my bare chest, “How was the bar?” She mumbled before I kissed the top of her head.

“Not fun with you here at home being sick. How are you feeling?” I questioned as I softly ran my hand up and down her back.

She sighed as I felt her lips press a gentle kiss to my chest, “I feel like I’m drunk and on a boat in the middle of the ocean and my head is throbbing. I also feel so damn tired but I’ve slept all day.”

I kissed her forehead, “Maybe you should go to the doctors, get some medicine or something.” I whispered as I felt Anarchy hop onto the bed and lay by my legs.

“I have an appointment next week. I’ll just go then. I’ll be fine. Just hold me.” Vanity whispered, as she tilted her head up and placed her lips on mine before laying back down.

*a few days later*

I stood in line at a pastry shop, waiting to get a box of frosted pink donuts with rainbow sprinkles Vanity had been complaining about wanting. So while she was out at a doctors appointment and getting her nails done afterwards I thought I’d pick some up on my way home. I had gotten out of the studio with the boys a little earlier then expected and had the whole day left. I thought maybe when Van gets home we could go to her favorite restaurant for dinner.

“I guess we meet again.” I heard a women’s voice plus fingers tapping at my shoulder. My eyes went wide as Brandi stood in front of me. My eyes going even wider at that diamond necklace laying between her tits.

“You found me pretty quick.” I chuckled as she stepped a bit closer to me to let someone pass her by.

“Maybe it’s meant to me.” Brandi smiled, “out running errands?” She questioned as I nodded, “Something like that, just picking up some donuts. What about you?”

She flipped her hair over her shoulder as she looked up at me, “Just finished up a photoshoot so I was just stopping to get some coffee.” I noticed her eyes wander over me, “With arms and legs like yours, I wouldn’t think you’d be getting junk food.”

I laughed, “No, my fiancé is having like weird period cravings or whatever. She’s been wanting them since the other night.”

Brandi nodded, “Did you maybe want to grab a bite to eat?” I stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out what the hell to say. I mean, I was hungry.

“I could grab a bite-“ I looked down at my watch, “She won’t be home for a while anyways.”

Brandi tilted her head to the side, “Are you inviting me over to your house?” I watched as her fingers played with necklace between her tits, “For someone who has a fiancé she sure isn’t around a lot.” Brandi laughed a bit, raising an eyebrow as i looked up at her.

“My girls been sick. And she’s dramatic so I’ve been stuck taking care of her.” I explained, for what reason I don’t know.

“Oh that’s too bad. Seems to me like having a fiancé has turned you soft.” Brandi retorted as I shook my head, rolling my eyes as I stepped up to the counter and ordered a half dozen donuts for Van.

I paid and turned back around, “Soft? Hardly. I’m not soft. Just being a good husband.” I explained to Brandi as she stepped out of line and followed me.

“A rockstar who went to rehab, got sober, sips on sparkling water with lemon wedges at bars he probably use to cause chaos at and gets his fiancé her period cravings food. That’s soft.” Brandi laughed, “You’re not a husband, not yet anyways.”

I glared at her, “So fucking what? Look, if you knew me you’d know I haven’t gone soft. I’m still that hard rocking guy.”

Brandi took a step towards me again, closing the gap between us as the breath in my throat got stuck, “Maybe you need a little fun. More excitement then a boring little fiancé.”

I chuckled, “And you’re suppose to be exciting? My girls the life of the party even when she’s sound asleep and snoring. Thanks for the offer, but I gotta go.”

Brandi reached for my wrist to stop me from leaving, “I’ve heard stories about you. I can’t believe they aren’t true.”

I stared her down, “All of them are true. Every single last one of them.”

“Then prove it.”

Ego was one hell of a killer.

*end flashback*

“...I’m sorry it’s late doll. Today was busy with lawyers and being at the studio. Ari’s sleeping, huh?” I swooned over Nikki’s voice as I sat on the fire escape smoking a cigarette and listening to the bustling streets below.

“Yeah she’s sleeping, we have a day trip planned with Clementine to go to the beach tomorrow. You should see how excited she is, she’s never been. I could hardly get her to lay down.”

He lightly chuckled, “Take pictures for me so I can see them when I get back to you two. Fuck, I miss you so much Vanity. You have no idea.”

I smiled and exhaled some smoke, “I miss you too, Sixx. Do you know how long you’ll be gone? Tommy will be out here in a few days..”

“She’s in the process of getting her stuff out of the house but we do that stupid photoshoot early next week. Huh, I saw Tommy today and he didn’t mention anything about going to visit Clementine.”

“Because you’re a dick to her and maybe he knows you’ll catch an attitude about him coming out here.” I explained to Nikki as he let out a light laugh.

“I’d only catch an attitude because he gets to see you and Ari, not because of Clem, I couldn’t give two fucks about her.” Nikki said in a matter of fact type tone.

“Well, I tried convincing you to stay. Would seeing my tits have worked?” I questioned Nikki, hearing him choke on whatever he was drinking.

“Seeing them, maybe playing with them. That might of worked but maybe I would’ve needed a little bit more than playing with your tits.”

I smirked, “oh yeah? Like what?”

Nikki’s voice had a gruff tone to it, “How about I just show you when I’m there? We’ll call it a mommy and daddy play date.”

I took another drag before putting the cigarette out, “Okay rockstar, I’ll be waiting for that but I should get to bed it’s late here...you’ll call tomorrow?”

“Oh right, time differences. Yes babe, I’ll call you tomorrow. I’ll try to call during the day so I can talk to Ari. Tell her I love her when she wakes up. I love you Van.”

“I love you too Nikki. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Sweet dreams, princess.”

*a month later*

I was currently sitting in a small circle surrounded by tiny little humans for Arianna’s kindergarten show and tell activity.

“This is my frog, his name is Benny and he does really cool tricks.” I watched as Issac, one of Arianna’s class mates wound up a toy frog and it started hopping around in front of us.

“Baby, maybe you should’ve picked something else.” I quietly told Arianna as she was sitting right next to me.

“No! Daddy said I could.” She argued back as I sighed, nodding as I kissed the top of her head.

“Okay Issac, can you put that away for me now? It’s Arianna’s turn.” Miss Jackie, the kindergarten teacher spoke softly as Issac put away his toy.

“Arianna, would you like to show us what you brought?” I sighed and got off the floor before going to the back of the classroom. Now, I tried telling Arianna maybe you should bring a cool toy or one of the shells you got from the beach this past summer, but no that wasn’t good enough. So, like any other kid would, when one parent says no they go to the next. Nikki had called a week ago and Arianna told him all about show and tell and how she had to bring something cool , so she asked Nikki if she could have one of his basses. Nikki, being the person he is, had one of his basses sent to the house with express shipping.

I took the bass out of its case that was littered with stickers, very inappropriate stickers and brought it over to Arianna as she sat down in the chair with the kids in front of her.

“Well, uh Arianna...what did you bring?” Miss Jackie took off her glasses and stared at her with a confused smile on her face.

“This is my daddy’s guitar- I mean bass?” Arianna looked up at me as I nodded, “And he plays music and he has a lot of friends that take pictures with him and his brothers play with him too!”

All the kids oh’d and aw’d, “Can we play with it?” Riley, another classmate asked.

“Yes you can.” Arianna said but I laughed, “No, these aren’t toys. These are really important to Arianna’s dad and I don’t think he’d want little sticky fingers on it.”

“For the next show and tell I’m gonna bring my dad!” Arianna exclaimed as I tried forcing a smile, “And, and maybe he can play it! And maybe uncle Tommy can come too!”

“Arianna, inside voice.” I brought my finger to my lip as she giggled.

“My dad is in ‘fornia right now doing businesses but he’ll be back. He promised.” Arianna put our dirty laundry out in the air as I saw Miss Jackie raise an eyebrow.

“Okay, I think that’s enough show and tell.” I muttered as I took the bass in my hand and brought it back over to the case. I laid it inside before closing the lid, letting my hand glide over the spray painted ‘SIXX’.

Nikki called a week ago. And he hasn’t called back since.

*Two weeks later, Vanity’s POV*

‘It’s Nikki! Leave a message and I’ll get back to you soon’

“Hey Nikki. It’s Van, just calling to see how things are going. Haven’t heard from you in a while...I know you’re busy.” I chewed on my bottom lip as I glanced over at Ari, feeling tears form but I shook it off, “Uh anyways um, just call whenever you have a moment. We miss you.”

I hung up the phone, wiping my eyes with my sleeve, “No answer?” I turned around to see Clementine standing in the hallway.

“He’s just...he’s busy.” I explained, trying to make myself believe it as well.

“Too busy? Vanity, he hasn’t called in three weeks. Nobody is ever that busy to even pick up the damn phone and call to talk to his own daughter.” Clementine berated as I nodded.

“I know! I know! Nikki will call. He promised he’d call.” I told Clementine, her lips parted to say something but she opted to stay quiet.

“He promised he would call.” I repeated, exhaling deeply. I watched Arianna as she was laughing at the TV. Nikki has to call. He has to come back.

“Does Nikki keep his promises?”

I turned my attention to her, trying to come up with something to say but by my lack of response was a dead giveaway. Clementine sighed as she reached across and touched my arm, “He’ll call.”

*a few days later*

“Mommy, I’m gonna be the coolest kid when I go back to school Monday!” I smiled at Arianna as she was perched up on the counter and I sat below her, painting her toes and fingers a sparkly neon green.

“Baby, you’re already the coolest kid.” I assured as I tickled the bottom of her foot. I continued painting her nails, blowing on them to dry faster because she was getting antsy to move and run around.

“Such a shame about Kurt. I actually really liked Nirvana.” I glanced over, seeing Clementine reading a rock magazine and sipping on a cup of tea at the table.

“Me too, he was way to young but junk will do that to you. It just eats you up and tears you apart. It hard to get off of, I mean, I watched how hard it was for Sixx. He’d attempt to and then something would happen or he’d hang out with the wrong person and he’d slip again.” I explained to Clementine as she nodded and continued flipping through the pages.

“Oh what the hell.” I heard Clementine whisper as I turned back around.

“What? What is it? Something happen too Robert Smith?” I chuckled before I went back to finishing Arianna’s fingers, “Almost done babe. You’ve been good for me.” I smiled as she reached down and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

“Have you by chance talked to…uh you know who?” I exhaled deeply, “No, it’s just going ringing for days on end before going to voicemail.” I admitted defeatedly.

“I miss daddy.” I looked at Arianna, seeing the pout on her expression as I kissed her forehead, “I know angel. He’s just working and he’s really, really busy…daddy will call.” I tried coaxing her but she was having none of it.

“Why did daddy have to leave? I didn’t want him to go.” She asked as I stared at her, trying to come up with something to say.

“He had to go do some things with T-bone, you know for the music and what not. Daddy said he’d be back in a few weeks, okay?” I tried soothing her, seeing Arianna’s cheeks turn a bit red as tears eventually started coming uncontrollably.

“Why did we have to go!!” Arianna yelled, crying as she pushed my hand away from hers, “I want Daddy!” She cried harder as I scooped her up into my arms, her tiny ones wrapping around my neck tightly.

I kissed the side of her head, my eyes meeting Clementine as I tried calming Arianna down, “Ari…baby, please don’t cry. It’s okay.” I spoke softly, almost in a hush tone as I ran my hand up and down her back, “It’s okay princess. I know, I know you want daddy back here. I do too but we gotta be big girls and stay calm okay?”

I held her in my arms as she buried her face into my neck and shoulder, clinging to me for dear life, “It’s okay baby. I promise it’s gonna be okay.” I whispered into her ear as I felt her sniffles.

Clementine slid the magazine over to me as I glanced down at it. I felt a lump form the back of my throat followed by a ball of hot, blazing anger deep within my gut as I stared down at the nude photos of Nikki and Brandi. I flipped through the pages, seeing more pictures, “The love of my life…” I read a snippet of an article that was quoted from Nikki. I tried blinking back stinging tears as I adjusted Arianna on my hip so she wouldn’t be able to see.

“No wonder he hasn’t called.” I mumbled to Clementine as I looked at the pictures. Brandi was in his lap, white sheets barely hanging around their waists. Her hand was over his mouth and by the look in his eyes, he was smiling and seemed to be enjoying it. I closed the magazine and shook my head in frustrations, “He’s happy to be with her again.”

I exhaled deeply and hugged Arianna, “How about you take a nap and then we can go get some pizza later? Maybe go to blockbuster and get some movies?” I kissed the side of her cheek as she gave me a weak nod. I walked her to bedroom, pulling her blanket back and laying her down, “I love you. So much.”

I left her room, walking back to the table seeing Clementine glaring at the magazine as she read it. I snatched it from her hands as she stared at me. I flipped through the pages a second time seeing their stupid smiles and their stupid wedding rings and all their stupidity.

“Van…” Clementine treaded the waters carefully as I attempted to hold back tears, “Vanity…” I shook my head, stepping away from her as she tried reaching out for me.

“That fucking…” I cried, closing the magazine before ripping it in half and then ripping it again before I threw it in the trash.

“Why does he fucking do this to me?!” I yelped, holding my face in my hands as I sobbed. Clementine wrapped her arms around me as I fell into her embrace, “Why can’t I just be enough for him?!”

“He’s an asshole Vanity. He’s thinking with his dick and not with his head clearly.”

“He said it was gonna be a photoshoot! Not soft fucking porn!” I yelled, swiping a cup of juice off the counter before I crumbled against it, resting elbows on the tile as my hands held my head, “I’m a fucking idiot.” I muttered under my breath, staring down at the droplets that hit the counter.

“What am I suppose to do Clementine? He was here and now he’s not and he’s probably not coming back and Arianna’s crying over him. What do I do?” I cried, wiping my eyes as I sucked in a deep breath of air.

Clementine stayed quiet as her hand ran over my back, “He’ll come back. He’ll have hell to pay when he does but Nikki will come back. Even if myself or Tommy drag him out here. I’m so sorry Vanity.” I shook my head, chewing on my bottom lip as I leaned against her shoulder as I stared at his bass I had hung on the wall because Arianna wanted it displayed for everyone to see.

“I’m so sorry he does these things to you.”

*A week later, Tommy’s POV*

I rolled my eyes, watching Brandi march herself out the front doors, “Wanna beer?” I turned my attention to Nikki, the stupid arrogant grin on his face as he handed over a Heineken. I nodded, taking it from his grasp as I plopped down onto the uncomfortable couch and stared at Nikki as he sat down and kicked his feet up on the coffee table, “So have you called Vanity?”

He stared at me, mid sip as he put the bottle down, “Uh been busy man. She knows that, I’ll call tomorrow..”

Maybe it wasn’t any of my business to ask, but shit, when Clem calls me telling Vanity is crying over Nikki and Arianna is doing the same, it strikes a fucking chord within me.

I furrowed my eyebrows, “Really? Busy? Huh-“ I chuckled a bit before taking a sip, “Or are you just fucking playing strings on her heart again? I know you have a thing for doing that to Van.”

Nikki stared at me in disbelief, “T, it’s not like that at all. I’m-I’m not doing this shit for fun!”

An eyebrow arched, “Oh really? So Arianna is asking for you for no god damn reason when I call Clementine and she’s with them? And Vanity is on the verge of having, yet again, another broken heart over you? Tell me what it’s like then Nikki.”

“I-I don’t know man. There’s just a lot going on right now. Plus, Clementine is probably being dramatic about it all.” Nikki shook it off as he took a long sip off the bottle.

“A lot going on? Nikki! We aren’t fuckin making music! You have nothing going on! Nothing is stopping you from picking up the phone and talking to your daughter!”

Nikki shook his head, looking down into his bottle, “Tommy, I just can’t talk to Van right now, alright? Brandi would freak out and I don’t want to hear it.” He breathed deeply, running a hand through his hair to push it away, “Vanity is fine. She’s a tough girl and I’m sure she understands and is telling Arianna something she’d understand too.”

I was getting more and more pissed off, “And I thought you two were divorced?” I slammed the bottle down on the table, making Anarchy jump up in alert as she sat by Nikki’s feet, “Are you seriously doing this to her?! Again, Nikki?! And to fucking make promises to a kid?! They never forget shit, Sixx! What the fuck happened?! You were so happy to find her and you just toss her to the fucking side again?!”

In a hushed tone, “We pulled the papers…”

I closed my eyes, actual anger burning through me, “You did what?! Are you fucking stupid!?”

Nikki winced at my yelling, it was rare for me to get like this, “I-I don’t know!! She came at me with both blow and a blow job and I withdrew the divorce papers and now I’m fucking stuck! I don’t know how to get out of it! Trust me T-bone, I feel like shit! I listen to Vanity’s voicemails and I just hear how fucking hard she’s trying to keep it together but I don’t even know what to fuckin say to her, man! I don’t!”

“Oh, so sucking your cock and giving you something to plug your nose up just gets your forgiveness automatically.” I shook my head, “You’re a fucking piece of shit. Just like your father!”

I saw the guilt, pain and sadness rush over his face and through his body, “Tommy, I-“

“And you don’t know what to do? Fucking get those papers signed, Nikki! Jesus Christ, what’s the matter with you?!”

“Vanity is going to hate me-“ I quickly cut him off, “No! She’s going to hate you for doing this to Arianna! She’s been through this enough times with you to know how it goes! But That child doesn’t deserve this and you don’t deserve her if this is how you’re gonna be!”

“I’ll…I’ll call her.”

“I’m serious Nikki, Arianna did nothing to deserve this! Should I tell Vanity what’s actually going on? Cause I’ll be out there this weekend.”

His eyes widen, “No! Do not fucking tell her!!”

I smirked, “How about ‘Oh sorry Nikki’s dick and a few lines of blow are more important then you and Arianna! He still loves you, though’. I think she would really like that one.”

Nikki shook his head, “I do love her! Brandi’s just…shes fucking manipulative man. I don’t know how to get rid of her she’s like a fucking bug that won’t fuckin die after I stomp my boot on it.”

I smirked, staring him right in the eye, “I didn’t know someone could hold Nikki Sixx by the balls.”

Sixx narrowed his eyes at me, “Shut up Tommy! She doesn’t-“

“Bet you even had to ask her if I could come over? Does she keep them in her purse too?”

Nikki kicked over the coffee table, balling his fists as he stood in front of me, “Shut the fuck up! I’ll call! I’ll call and I will deal with it and explain what’s going on myself! Just back off Tommy!”

*a few days later, Vanity’s POV*

‘Vanity, just please, please listen to me. I know you’re probably upset and pissed off and you more than likely can’t stand the thought of me. I am so fucking sorry for disappearing on you and Arianna. Brandi and I…we…we attempted to work things out and I-‘

Message Deleted

I stared at the answering machine, chest heaving up and down, hot and heavy tears already falling down reddened cheeks. I quickly swiped everything off the side table, sending a glass vase, the answering machine and papers flying “Bastard.” I sobbed quietly, running my hands through my hair, “Fucking bastard.”

I stomped over to the fridge, slamming open the door as I grabbed the bottle of whiskey and downed as much as my throat would allow me to do so. I closed my eyes, clutching the bottle to my chest as I leaned my forehead against the upper door. How could Nikki do this to me? Why is it so fucking easy for him to hurt me? Am I just a fun little toy he likes to play with when he’s bored? Because that’s what I feel like.

I put the bottle away when the front door opened, Tommy and Clementine offered to take Arianna to the zoo today so I could have some alone time, “Mommy! Look!” I turned to see Arianna who was not only holding up a penguin plush toy but had a flamingo shaped balloon animal hat around her head.

“Wow! That’s so cool Ari! Did you have fun?” I picked her up when she came over for a hug, “Was she good for you two?”

Clementine nodded as she put her jacket and purse down, “Yes, but she did have a minor freak out over a lions roar, other than that she had a lot of fun. She even got to feed a giraffe.”

“Rockstar perks.” Tommy added with a light laugh.

Arianna walked over to the living room, putting her new stuffed animal away in her toy bin while turning on the tv, “What did you do today?” Clementine questioned as I looked at her.

“Oh uh…took the car to get cleaned, window shopped and got my nails done.” I explained, showing off the pastel pink paint job to Clem.

“Did daddy call?” I looked down at Arianna as her eyes were full of hope, “No baby. I’m sorry.”

I was waiting for her to start crying, as that has been the usual whenever I tell her no to that certain question, but she didn’t. Instead she stared at us for a few more seconds before going back to the couch and watching cartoons.

“Nikki called.” I whispered to both of them as their eyes went wide, “Really? That’s good! I told him he-“

“He left a voicemail with a half assed apology and telling me him and Brandi are trying to fix things so I deleted it and kinda exploded…” I motioned over to the mess I had created.

I shook my head, “Anyways, can you guys hang out with her for a little while longer?”

Clementine looked at Tommy who shrugged in return, “Uh sure? Are you going somewhere?”

I grabbed my jacket, “Oh uh yeah! I ordered pizza from Uh that one joint? Antonio’s? And I forgot they don’t deliver so I was gonna go pick it up.” I explained, slipping on my shoes as I grabbed my wallet and car keys.

“Oh, okay. Yeah! We’ll see you in a little bit! Bring back some of their double chocolate chip cookies! I love those!” Tommy chimed in as he kicked off his boots and went to sit by Arianna.

“Vanity?” I stopped at the door, glancing back at Clementine, “Yes?”

She eyed me, a wave of guilt running through me as she knew what I knew and that I really wasn’t going to get pizza.

“Be careful.”

*a little while later*

I walked through the sketchy corridor, ceiling light flickering above me as I could hear people yelling through their doors as well as loud music blaring through speakers. I moved closer to the wall when a group of girls walked past me, glaring.

I stopped in front of dark oak door, with the number 78 plated in gold above the peep hole. I knocked quietly before knocking a bit louder. The door swung open, a cloud of pot smoke hitting my face as a man, with three dots tattooed onto his cheek stood in front of me, “Jason home?”

He let off a toothy grin, as he opened up the door for me so I can come in. I stepped off to the side seeing a group of guys sitting on the couch with white powder and beer bottles sprawled over the glass coffee table.

“Jason! You got a pretty little thing that just walked in!” The man that opened the door yelled for him as I stood by the door, contemplating if I should just leave.

“Ah come hang out with us.” The guy wrapped his hand around my bicep and tugged me over to the couch with him. He forced me to sit down between him and another burly guy that had tattoos cascading down his arm, I even think one was a swastika that had flames around it.

My Hispanic ancestors would be rolling in their graves right about now.

“Want some?” He motioned to the white powder in front of me that either could of been coke, heroin or even meth for that matter.

“No thank you. I’ll wait for Jason.” Right on queue, a door opened up and a ditsy blonde came stumbling out with Jason right behind her. I felt my heart start racing as he handed her money and a tiny bag of drugs before she left.

His eyes met mine as I tried forcing a small smile, “How did I know you’d end up back here?” He chuckled as he walked over to the table I was sitting around, swiping some dust on his finger and licking it off.

“Did your precious little rockstar leave you again?” I watched as he tried keeping himself up and his eyes that were doing summersaults. By the bruises that ran down his arms, he had moved on to smack. Nikki’s eyes use to do the same little tricks.

I cleared my throat, “I just wanted some blow.” I digged into my wallet hearing the hushed oh fucks and the she’s loaded as I pulled out a hundred and tossed it on the table, “Enough so I don’t have to see you for a while.”

Jason reached down to grab the money, “Some blow?” He shook his head and tossed the money back to me, “How about we trade? Blow for blow?” He smirked as his eyes wandered down to the low cut shirt I was wearing, “She gives the best blow jobs boys, and she has a pretty tight pussy even after hanging out with rockstars in Los Angeles. I’m guessing that’s how she got so good.”

I felt a wave of uneasiness run through me as I felt the guy next to me wrap his hand around the base of my neck before trailing down. I quickly stood up and stared at him, “Just give me something Jason. I’m not in the mood for games. Please?”

“Wonder what else she’ll beg for..”

Jason chuckled, “Alright, come on.” He motioned for me as I followed him past the room he came out of and too his bedroom. He closed the door, locking it as I stepped into his room.

“Nice friends you have.” I rolled my eyes as I sat down on his bed.

“They aren’t my friends.” His back was towards me as he was fumbling with stuff on his dresser, “You just want blow? You sure you don’t want smack? It’s a better high. It’s fucking fantastic.”

He had a black satchel in his hand as he sat next to me, “Smack makes me sick.” I told him as he smiled at me.

“Smack makes everyone sick. But you get sick before you feel better. But a pretty nice girl like you doesn’t need that, it would ruin someone like you.” Jason explained as I watched him take out a vile of white powder, “Shoot it?”

I looked at him, nodding as he smirked. Jason dumped a little bit onto a spoon before melting it with a lighter. I watched the chemistry of it all, turning white into brown as it bubbled and became sticky. He grabbed a fresh needle, pulling it out of the package as he put the tip on it and sucked it up into the syringe.

“Here you go.” He handed it over to me as I took it and he wrapped a band around my bicep. I bit down on the elastic as I watched the needle meet skin before I pushed it into my arm, slowly seeing the coke mix with my own blood as I took the needle away from my body.

I let out a deep sigh as my high hit me like a freight train, “Thank you.” I mumbled through hooded eyes as I laid back on his bed. I heard him snort a few lines before he laid down next to me.

“I’m sorry for putting my hands on you. I’ve missed you a lot Vanity. Your friend almost crushed my windpipe, I was coughing up blood for a few days.” Jason explained, feeling his finger tips run over my abdomen and across my hips.

“I should go. Did you want money?” I asked him, pushing his hand away from me as I sat up, feeling lightheaded and the world spinning around me.

“Nah, you take this-“ he handed me a small bundle of blow as I took it from him, “-and just come back when you want to see me again.” Jason took a step closer and placed his lips on the side of my cheek.

“Right. Thanks.” I mumbled before i left his bedroom and apartment.

I stumbled out the doors, holding onto the railing as i started crying, “God damnit.” I clutched my arm around my stomach, feeling knots and knives twisting around inside.

I can do this little bit he gave me and be done with it. It’s all I need. I’ll get clean again after I finish this supply.

*A month later, Clementine’s POV*

I finished picking up the mess from the kindergarteners. Scrubbing paint off the tables and vacuuming up Crumbled pieces of crackers from the floors. I exhaled deeply, it was time for one big glass of wine. Maybe Vanity would like to get in on some wine and Chinese food maybe, apple juice for Ari of course. I grabbed my jacket and purse as I walked out of the classroom, locking up before going down the hallway.

I smiled to the janitors as they were sweeping the floors and washing the glass windows sticky little fingers have touched all day. I was almost at the front doors when I heard a child singing a rhyme. I walked around the corner as bright golden eyes and a messy bun and bow sat in front of me.

“Arianna? What are you doing here?” I put my stuff down as she was sitting criss cross with her backpack still on, “Where’s mom?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know.” I looked at my watch, seeing that it was almost four in the afternoon and school had gotten out over an hour ago.

I sat down next to her as I dug through purse and grabbed my phone, “She didn’t pick you up?” I flipped my phone open and saw that I had a new voicemail.

“No, the car is always over there and it isn’t.” She pointed by the tree that was in the no parking section, “Did she forget I was at school?” She giggles a bit as she dug through my purse and grabbed the candy she knows I always have in it.

“No! No, of course not angel. I’ll call her and see where she’s at.” I furrowed my eyebrows as I stared down at my phone and called her number, it went straight to her voicemail.

“Hey Van, uh…I’m sitting here with Ari wondering where you’re at. Are you okay? I’m gonna take her home and see if you’re there alright? Just give me a call back whenever you get this.”

I kissed the top of Arianna’s head as she stuffed candy into her mouth. I had a feeling the voicemail I had was from her so I clicked on it to let it play:

“Hello Clementine, my name is Jacqueline I’m a nurse calling from Silver Oak Medical Center. We had you on file as an emergency contact for Vanity Blackwood? Just give the hospital a call or come see her at your early convenience. Thank you.”

My eyes almost popped out of my head, “We gotta go babe. Come on.” I grabbed her backpack and my stuff as we walked out the door.

I felt tears burning as I helped Arianna into my car, thank god Vanity had bough another booster seat to keep in here, “We’re uh…we’re gonna go home and get some stuff and then you’re gonna come hang out with auntie for the weekend. How does that sound?” I asked her as she smiled.

“Yay!! Aunties house!” She cheered as I smiled at her and got into my car and drove to Their place.

When I unlocked the door with the spare key, Arianna went straight to playing with her toys in the living room. I went straight to the home phone as I shuffled papers around, finding a sticky note with Nikki’s name and a heart next to it with numbers jotted down. She’s going to hate me but oh well. I took a deep breath in as I dialed a phone number in and waited. After a few rings it picked up, “Hi is Nikki available?”

I heard the light strum of a bass in the background, “Ummm, whose calling?” The voice wasn’t a deep baritone, but a nasally female one.

“This is Clementine, Brandi. You know whose number this is.” I spat out, trying to keep my voice low so Arianna wouldn’t get nosey.

“Clementine? I don’t think we know a Clementine. I think you have the wrong number.” The line went dead as Brandi hung up on me.

“Oh that fucking bitch.” I whispered to myself, glaring at the phone as I punched in the same number again, it picked up after the first ring “Keep hanging up and I’ll leave a lovely little message.”

Brandi scoffed, “What the hell could you possibly want? What? She can’t get it through her thick skull that he doesn’t want her? So she makes you call? Pathetic.”

“No you dumb cunt, there’s a fucking emergency and I need to talk to Nikki.”

”Aww, so sad. Do you want me to get the violin out?” She cackled, “Look I’ll leave a message but he’s a bit busy at the moment.”

“Brandi! It’s about Arianna, it’s serious.” I lied, “I need to talk to him.”

“Tell Vanity to kiss her booboo and that will make things better. He’s busy. Stop calling.” Brandi hung up the phone before I could say anything else to her.

I put the phone down, running my hand over my face as I looked over the numbers, maybe the other one is his office?

I tapped my fingers against the wall, waiting for the receiver to click, “If you hang up, I swear you’ll never reproduce again.”

“Uh…who is this? I kinda like having my dick attached to me..”

I rolled my eyes at Nikki’s voice, “Clem, you fucking idiot. Since you’ve been ignoring your daughter and Van.”

“I haven’t- no! I’m not ignoring them! I tried returning her calls but she didn’t call me back, is she pissed at me?”

If Nikki was standing in front of me, I probably would’ve wrapped the chord around his neck, “Really?! What do you think? Just a few months of ignoring her is going to fly with her? I’m not Vanity, Don’t give me the excuses, Nikki.”

I heard Nikki groan, “What’s going on Clementine, why are you calling?”

“Nikki, Vanity is in the hospital. She doesn’t want you here but I’m not taking Arianna to the hospital because I don’t know what kind of condition Van is in. So I need you to be here for your daughter, or are you actually the asshole I think you are?”

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oldfritz · 4 years

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this was surprisingly hard because half of them I wanted to throw in f, but then felt guilty about it so here’s where we are. explanations under the cut to be nice (fair warning: I’m writing this while tipsy so this is a journey)

S-tier

Old Fritz: look me in the eyes. look at me. are you looking? good. where else was I was going to put him? where? in C with the other losers? foolish. I am ruining my life for this man, I’m going to go into debt so I can be moderately qualified to write books on him so Tim Blanning and Christopher Clark don’t boo my off the stage. I sit here sometimes and I’m like ‘y’know, I would start a podcast to talk about his life’ as if I’m some straight white guy who thinks any of you want to listen to me for an hour. he’s a bastard, a smug bastard, and is the epitome of self-destructive tendencies. and, honestly, I wouldn’t mind if he wasn’t so fucking misogynistic all the time. ‘oh women aren’t fit to rule’ shut up Fritz before I time travel to fuck your wife and make her have one night where life feels worthwhile. but he’s funny, I enjoy how he does foreign policy, and he’s unfortunately relatable to me. cheers, Fritz. here’s to never being satisfied from one gay disaster with anger issues to another. may we burn in hell together

A-tier

Friedrich iii: “Suzanne, he was only on the throne for 99 days!! how can he be this high up when some of these bastards refused to die?” I hear you, my friends, and I have answers. I’ll tell you two words you’ll be shocked to hear put together: liberal Hohenzollern. a rare breed, isn’t it? imagine, friends, a world where he got over his throat cancer because he listened to a doctor and we get through the 1910s, 20s, even the 30s without Wilhelm II Electric Boogaloo being in power. Prussia is still on the map, the Anglo-Prussian alliance is strong, and I live in peace. but no. this stupid man had to keep smoking. because he’s selfish and doesn’t care about my needs. you know, he actually loved his wife. rare in this family. loved her and wasn’t abusive. the bar is so low, guys. and his wife is amazing too, Victoria. the world would’ve been in competent hands if they’d been in power longer (and Bismarck would’ve been out of a job still but at least these guys are smart. their son inherited grandma Vicki’s IQ). I would sleep with both of them and would thank them for the honor (when it should always be the other way around, remember that)

B-tier

Friedrich I: if your name is Friedrich and only Friedrich, we’re buds. that’s my rule. I have to give him credit where credit’s due. he was the first. while I agree with Fritz in his proscription that he was ‘small in big ways and big in small ways’ (I may have flipped that around), he wasn’t a bad guy. he just was born into the wrong job for him. I appreciate that he rode on his father’s coattails of proving useful to the Habsburgs and did a little himself to get that sweet, sweet kingship. smart move. I also like that he saw Louis XIV and said to himself “I stan, I kin, on God we’re gonna do that’ and tried. only for have his stupid, ungrateful, unclassy son to do away with that. I, too, am a woman of luxury and self-indulgance and if I had all the riches of Brandenburg and Prussia at the time (not much), I would spend them ridiculously on outfits and music and art. now, what did he do as king? what policy legacy did he leave behind? that’s a good one :)

C-tier

Friedrich Wilhelm III: now as a king he sucks. and I stand by this because, you know, he lost to him *imagine me pretending to be short and saying ‘oui, oui’ in a bad french accent*. and as any proper Englishwoman I can’t support a monarch who goes around losing to the French unless their name is Mary I. but, he’s a pathetic little man. he really is. so indecisive, so unsure of himself. what are you doing little guy? you think because your last name is Hohenzollern, God thinks you’re a good king? well it is like 1805 and, while divine right isn’t really being used as much, it’s as good as any reason on why you’re the chosen one and my family is eating dirt in Sicily and on the Scottish border. he’s really just a dude, nothing extraordinary about him except that his wife was the only one with brains and was the first to establish that (sorry Wilhelm I). he cried when he found out that his children didn’t call him ‘papa’ and went into a deep depressive state when his wife suddenly died. he’s an average man, of average abilities, but of big heart. and the big heart is what bumps him up, for me, from his old place as an F to a C. though, his moralizing is tedious

Friedrich Wilhelm II: this man should have partied with Mick Jagger and Keith Richards. everyone’s got that one ruler whose all about sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll. for the US it’s JFK, for the UK it’s Margaret Thatcher Charles II, France has Louis XIV. Prussia has this guy and we should thank him. so many mistresses, so much sex, so much revelry and debauchery and sin! this guy’s personal life is like a treasure trove of political and sexual intrigue. if you’re into that - as I am as a town gossip - you’ll love him. I am constantly amazed by the fact that some STD didn’t kill him. syphilis, herpes, crabs. something, man, anything. but he didn’t. he’s a shit king though. absolutely horrible. all he did was whine that he didn’t get taught anything by Uncle Fritz and, yes, that’s not good if it’s true (but it’s not completely because the treatises are detailed but I guess he didn’t have time to read) but c’mon. actually apply yourself and learn on the job. I know that would’ve required him to not be balls deep somewhere, but unfortunately he’s not Dorian Gray. there’s work that needed to be done and he didn’t do it. boo!!

D-tier

Wilhelm I: apparently he was a good guy, unlike the other 3 who populate the lowest rungs of Prussian kinghood. so I give him that and I can respect that. but what did he do? what were his own ideas? I thought about putting Bismarck as king instead because, really, he was. Bismarck was a minister who ran around the king’s back to set things up exactly as he liked and it fucking worked because he was the brains. his wife was intelligent too, but theirs wasn’t a wamr and loving marriage. and Bismarck worked to get Wilhelm to distrust her because she was liberal and the fact that Wilhelm would listen to Otto even if it meant allowing himself to be drowned in the Rhine is pathetic. fun party at Versailles though. hope it was worth the war reparations

F-tier (bastard time) I’m going in a different order because I want to go from the ones I hate least to most xoxo

Friedrich Wilhelm IV: “I won’t accept a crown from the gutter” then you won’t accept a crown at all, stupid idiot! god, the smugness. the authoritarian impulses. I know it was the cool thing in 1848 to put down any revolts/protests with as much force as possible, but man, at least the Habsburgs were transparent. homie was like “yeah guys lol I’ll make a constitution and it’ll be epic! you’ll have so many rights! xoxo gossip girl” and then...nope. and AND he wanted the Habsburgs in charge of things too! Mr. ‘I’m Nostalgic For When HRE Was Great And We Blew Austrian Dick!’ grow up man. it’s Prussia time buddy, Austria is beginning to fall apart. don’t look to the past, look to the future, but you didn’t have that vision did you?

Wilhelm II: *banging pots and pans* I blame this man for everything! now, intellectually, does Germany take all the blame for WWI? no, that’s foolish and propaganda of the Allies only. if you’re a European power in 1914, you get to share the blame (ex: why did UK need to make this a naval arms race? Austria should’ve declared war on Serbia sooner if that’s what it wished to do. Russia, please stay out of the Balkans then and forever). but does my irrational hatred of Wilhelm blind me to this truth when I see his stupid face and that ugly fucking mustache that I wish to yank off? my god, yes. I see him and Rule Britannia and The Yanks Are Coming start playing so loud in my head and I’m like ‘yeah, the kaiser’s gonna pay.’ I’m sorry that Bismarck’s ego was bigger than yours but did you have to prove him right by getting incompetent buffoons who were playing checkers when he set the board up for chess to replace him? Did you have to prove Freud right by displacing private problems onto public life with your little tit-for-tat with George IV (VI?) because his mummy loved you more? Why did you need to fuck every naval vessel you saw like an inferior of Peter the Great who believed he was Sir Francis Drake? but that’s just the first war and he lived to see things setting up for the second. wasn’t in convenient for you to be close with the N@zis when you thought they might want a king back on the throne and you could reclaim your little tyrant. like every goddamn Prussian conservative or Junker, you thought you could play the tyrannical cockroach. sure, you figured out earlier that he was no pal, but you still collaborated and you still allowed yourself to get played like the weak man of conscience you are. cheers!

Friedrich Wilhelm I: ladies and gentleman, the moment you’ve all been waiting for! the biggest bastard straight outta Berlin, FW1! and who doesn’t love an abusive father? who doesn’t love a man, so insecure and pathetic, that he needs to terrorize children to be able to look at himself and have a little pride. I understand that it was because he wanted his kids, specifically Fritz, to be best. but being best and perfect meant being miniature versions of him and aren’t we supposed to want our children to be better than a carbon-copy of a small man? honestly, I could live with the occasional smack for this time period. it’s within the norm and, while horrible, isn’t irreparably damaging. this guy really had to beat the shit out of Fritz and Wilhelmina and I’m sure Augustus and Henry and Amalia and all the others (so many kids) didn’t get spared either because if you hit one, you’ll hit ‘em all. and I judge them for their flaws all the same but, for some of them, it gets hard to. because what fighting chance did they have when their father was telling them how worthless they were and beating them senseless and threatening death and life imprisonment on some? I’m constantly impressed by Henry and Fritz and Wilhelmina for amounting to any semblance of maturity, even though it’s always fleeting, because this man didn’t give them the tools to be functioning adults. but each of them managed to be greater than their father, as did Amalia managing a really cool coup in Sweden. and what did FW1 get? he built up his army, had a tall guy fetish, increased the treasury, and made the cabinet and executive offices more efficient. there used to be this one guy on here that would argue that that was all a good king made and that this lowlife didn’t deserve the contempt he got by some on here (an obvious vague of me) for his behavior as a father. and maybe I’m a crackpot, but I believe the quality of a man outshines all those other achievements and that that’s meaningless to me, in my personal life. and when I get to hell, before I go to any of these other men, I’ll go to him and ask him how hell’s fires feel because, if his God was real, it would never love him. and that’s beautiful

#i just wanted to give you guys the mental image of ol maggie doing lines of coke #i dont like her i just like to give nicknames to all my enemies #makes them uncomfortable #im very tipsy so this is weird #i apologize #but i hope its kinda funny and enjoyable #frederick the great #old fritz #the name frederick officially looks meaningless to me #frederick william i #frederick i #frederick iii #frederick william ii #frederick william iii #frederick william iv #wilhelm i #wilhelm ii #prussian shitposting

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goldenwilliamson · 4 years

Note

38A & 50C with geo???

a/n: based on dialogue prompts: 38A “i don’t feel the same way” and 50C “how drunk was i?”

you can find dialogue prompts for requests here

i really love how this one turned out eee 💛

pairing: 1967 george harrison x reader

summary: george gets drunk at a party and admits feelings for you, the next morning he can’t remember a thing so you have to explain it all to him

warnings: mentions of alcohol, drunk people and drugs

word count: 3259

It was the night of the Sgt. Pepper’s release and a few people had been invited round to Brian Epstein’s house during the day for some press and also just to celebrate. You were so proud of the boys work on this album, and you could tell that they were proud as well. There was just an air of happiness and excitement surrounding the boys today and you were so glad to see this after the stress you saw them under during the making of the album. They always worry too much, but you always know that anything they do will be amazing.

You’re sat at the moment talking to one of the other only girls here, a young photographer named Linda Eastman who’s work you adore.

“I’ve seen your photographs, the ones of the Mick and Brian, they’re wonderful,” you tell her honestly.

“Why thank you, I’m glad I got in here to take these guys pictures, I’ve been dying to for this project I’m working on,” she tells you, explaining the project that she’s working on in England at the moment.

You two chat, getting to know each other for another 20 minutes or so when Linda suddenly remembers the task at hand and her job to be done. You let her get on with it and go talk with George and Ringo who you see are standing off to the side by themselves. You had been friends of the boys for years, since you guys were kids and met through local shows at places like the Cavern Club. You had dated Paul for a few months, but that didn’t last too long as you two quickly realised you were just good friends.

“Hi boys,” you say as you approach the two of them.

“Hey y/n, how are you doing?” Ringo asks.

“I’m well, but how about you two, you must feel so happy,” you tell them both and they smile appreciatively.

“I’m happy it’s come together,” Ringo nods, and George does so too.

“You still on for the party tonight at Paul’s?” George asks you now.

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it,” you tell him.

“Good,” he smiles.

“So do you also think Paul fancies this Linda taking photos?” You ask them both in a hushed voice and they both nod their heads immediately.

“Oh yes, have you seen the eyes they’ve been giving each other,” George says matter of factly.

“I noticed that, she is pretty, seems like Paul’s type,” Ringo agrees.

“She’s very lovely, he should invite her tonight,” you tell them both and they agree with you two, Ringo saying he’d mention it to him.

Day turns to night and soon the lot of you are heading back to Paul’s. Everyone piles into the cars on the street outside of Brian Epstein’s, you riding with George in his mini.

You tell him how proud you are of him and how great you think the album is.

“It’s like nothing that’s ever been done before,” you tell him and he laughs modestly.

“You’re very sweet, thank you,” he says, turning to look at you for a moment and you roll your eyes.

“I’m serious George! This album is going to absolutely change the music industry. I know it,” you tell him intuitively.

“Either that or people will bark on about how we’re lunatics on drugs,” he says laughing a bit to himself.

“Well you’re that too,” you joke.

“Hey!” George says taking his hand of the wheel to poke your thigh while laughing.

“I’m only joking,” you poke him back softly on the arm.

It’s not a long drive back to Paul’s, but you two seem to arrive after everybody else. You didn’t even realise how many people had been involved in the process of the album until you walk into Paul’s to be greeted by nearly 50 people.

Through out the night you make your way around, speaking with most of the people here who you knew. The night was progressing and everyone was getting quite drunk or high and everybody began to get friendly with one another.

“Y/n!” Linda says approaching you from behind and placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Linda, I’m glad you made it, how are you feeling love?” You ask her.

“I am too, and I’m feeling fine I’m basically sober save one glass of wine,” she tells you honestly, and you can see she is telling the truth.

“Oh well that’s good, I’m sober as well since I’ve offered to drive George and I home tonight,” you explain to her and she nods understandingly.

“You two are together aren’t you?” She asks seriously and you laugh.

“George and I?” You ask and she nods.

“Oh no, we’re just friends,” you tell her, and a part of you wishes you could be giving her a different answer.

“Oh I’m sorry,” she laughs, “it’s just if I didn’t know any better, which clearly I don’t, I would’ve thought he was in love with you,” she says, and this you take as the wine talking, but you laugh anyway.

“Really?” you ask amused, “what makes you say that?”

“Just in the way he looks at you you know? And the way he acts around you and speaks to you. I can spot a man in love when I see it, I mean, I usually can,” she tells you and you smile.

“Are you sure you’ve only had one glass of wine, love? You seem to be speaking nonsense to me,” you tell her sarcastically, acting as though you don’t want to believe what she’s telling you.

“I promise! But you can believe what you wish y/n, but I personally think you two would make a very sweet couple,” she says.

“Well that’s nice, but I’m sorry to say I don’t think that will ever happen,” you tell her and you leave the conversation there, deciding to change the topic to her and Paul. Halfway through your conversation though, Ringo makes his way over to you, slinging his arms around the two of you in his drunken state. The two of you laugh at his friendly manner.

“Hello ladies,” he drawls and you pull him up so he’s standing straight with your hand wrapped around his waist.

“What’s going on Ringo?” You ask him with an amused smile playing on your face.

“Just want to spend some time with you, y/n, and of course the lovely Linda,” he says.

“Let’s go find the other’s,” you tell him as you make your way through Paul’s house from the back room you were stood in with Linda to the living room where most people seem to be gathered. You spy George quickly as you walk in and he waves you over to him, patting the seat by his side.

“1 second,” you mouth to him, holding up one finger and pointing to Ringo and he nods.

You tell Linda to go join Paul and that you would take care of Ringo, which she does and you walk Ringo over towards Maureen, who takes him off of your hands gratefully.

As you take your seat beside George he leans down to rest his head on your shoulder, which was not an unusual thing for George to do. You run your fingers through his hair which had gotten some length to it recently and he hums approvingly.

“That feels nice,” he mumbles and you can sense that he has had a fair bit to drink as well in the many hours that you guys have been here. You continue to run your fingers through his hair and meet eyes with Linda and Paul from across the room. They both stand there smiling like children looking between you and George.

“See!” Linda mouths in reference to what she’d said about you and George earlier and you clearly understand what she says, shaking your head and laughing.

Of course you liked George, sometimes part of you even thinks you could like him as more than just your friend. The realistic part of your mind usually takes over those thoughts but, assuring you that if you were to ever admit that or put too much thought into it, you would probably lose your dearest friendship.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” you whisper to George, and he nods lifting his head from your shoulder.

You take a good long look at yourself in the mirror, and at your shoulder where George had just rested. You mentally assure yourself not to read into what Linda was telling you after all, she had been drinking and so had George.

When you walk back downstairs you walk past Linda and Paul on your way back to George.

“You two look lovely together,” you tell them both, holding Paul by the arm as you walk around to stand next to him.

“Could say the same about you two,” Linda retorts immediately and Paul laughs with her.

“No! Tell her Paul, tell her she’s wrong,” you tell him, but he just shakes his head.

“I’m afraid I agree with her, love,” he says, smiling and you push his arm softly.

“You two are no good,” you tell them, shaking your head before heading back to sit next to George.

The night continues to progress and you once again find yourself floating around the house and then sat talking with Cynthia in the same room you had found yourself talking to Linda in earlier in the night. John walks in to find you both to inform you that people were starting to leave.

“Oh y/n, George is looking for you as well,” he tells you, resting a hand on your back. You push your chair back and stand.

“Better go find him then. Have a good night you two,” you tell them giving them both a hug goodbye. They were two people you adored very much and always had time for.

You walk down the hall and back to the living room, you only see Ringo, Maureen, Paul, Linda and others scattered around, but George is nowhere to be seen.

“Y/n! George is looking for you!” Paul says when she notices my presence.

“Well where’s he looking?” You ask laughing.

“He’s upstairs love,” Linda says in her much more sober state than Paul and you nod appreciatively, climbing the stairs.

As you reach the top of the stairs, you spot George closing one of the bedroom doors, seemingly have been looking in there.

“Y/n, there you are love,” he says once he spots you.

“Here I am,” you tell him, “Ready to head home Geo?” you ask him.

“I think so,” he nods and the two of you descend the staircase again, George does a good job of holding himself upright with the hand railing. You two give your farewells to everybody still here which takes about half an hour in itself since everyone still here takes it as an opportunity to congratulate George on the album again.

“C’mon Georgie,” you encourage him as he could stay and chat with everybody all night long if he could and as much as you’d like to let him, you know you should be getting home.

“I like it when you call me that,” he smiles.

“I’ve always called you that George,” you tell him, laughing.

“I know, and I’ve always liked it,” he says matter of factly, laughing too.

You place him into the passenger seat of his mini cooper, his car that you adore so much.

You begin your drive to George’s house in Esher, you had already discussed with him that you would stay the night since you didn’t bring your car and you had no other way to get home.

You glance at the time on your watch and see it is 3am. You struggle to understand how you’re still awake at this hour, you look over to George in the passenger seat. He’s turns to look at you too, still awake despite the silence of the car ride so far. He smiles then opens his mouth as if to say something, then closing it again.

“You gonna say something Georgie?” You ask him, looking back to the road.

“You know, I love you y/n,” George says after a moment and you smile.

“I love you too George,” you tell him.

“Not like that but. I love you, I always have,” he says and you tell yourself not to believe it as he has always been a very loving and friendly drunk.

“You’re drunk George,” you tell him.

“I may be drunk, but I know what I’m talking about,” he says.

“Alright, why don’t we continue this conversation tomorrow then,” you offer him, not wanting him to say anything else he may regret and not wanting to take advantage of his honest attitude in his drunk state.

“I already know what you’ll say but,” he says, his deep gaze burning into you.

“What are you talking about?” You ask him, looking to him now, and he turns away back towards the road.

“If I told you how I felt tomorrow, you’d just say ‘I don’t feel the same way’, and then I would be left looking like an fool,” he says and it’s as if you’ve just become conscious of your heart beating and how fast it is. You remain your composure though.

“You can’t be so sure Geo,” you tell him, not wanting to admit anything major to him right now, because it would only make you upset seeing him wake up tomorrow and not being able to remember it.

“But I can, you wouldn’t fall for a guy like me,” he says sleepily, closing his eyes now.

“Well that’s not true at all,” you say quietly, wanting to just let him doze off to sleep.

When you get back to Kinfauns, you are greeted with the next task of getting George into the house. He wakes up though and is quite easy to deal with, holding onto your side as you guide him through the door, using your set of keys that he had cut for you to let the two of you in.

You put George into his bed then go to grab him a glass of water for when he wakes up no doubt feeling greatly dehydrated. As you place the glass by his bed he speaks up again which surprises you.

“Stay with me,” he tells you patting the other side of the bed, playing at your heartstrings once again.

“I’ll just be in the spare room Geo, like always,” you tell him and although all of you right now wants to just climb in with him, you don’t want him to wake up tomorrow and have to explain to him how you ended up in his bed.

“See, you don’t want me, I get it,” he says, rolling over so his back is facing you now, and it hurts you to see him like this.

“Oh stop George, I’ll see you in the morning darling,” you tell him as you switch off his light and go into the spare bedroom which has basically become a room for you at this point considering the amount of nights you’ve spent here. You and George often hang out into the early hours of the morning finding yourself too tired to drive home and George convincing you to just stay the night.

As you fall asleep you reflect on the whole night, your conversation with Linda and your following conversation with George. Maybe she’s right? You think, but you also have seen the way George acts with people and you refuse to believe he could actually like you as more than a friend, let alone be in love with you.

You wake up the next morning before George and decide to go make him a cup of tea to make his wake up a bit more bearable.

You place it on his bedside and he stirs awake to your presence.

“Morning,” he mumbles.

“Morning Geo,” you tell him as you walk around to the other side of his bed, climbing under the covers. Now that you know he is sober, you don’t feel so weird about it, and you too had spent many mornings like this before just waking up by each others side.

“How are you feeling,” you ask him.

“How drunk was I? I barely even remember how we got home, you drove didn’t you?” He asks, sitting up next to you and sipping his tea, just like you.

“You were quite drunk, rambling on the drive home,” you tell him, not sure whether or not to mention what he’d said. It could be better just to pretend it hadn’t happened, but you want to know if he really meant it.

“Oh god, what was I saying? Nothing bad I hope,” he says and you laugh.

“Oh no, so it was bad then,” he assumes from your laughter.

“You were just flattering me really, confessing your love,” you tell him in a joking manner, trying to laugh it off and gage his reaction.

“What do you mean,” he asks with a smirk, turning to face you completely with his legs crossed like a little boy. You mimic him, slowing reflecting his position.

“Well I recall you saying that I wouldn’t fall for a guy like you,” you tell him, remembering bits and pieces of the conversation. He raises his eyebrows, seeming amused.

“And what did you say,” he asks taking another sip of his tea.

“Oh I didn’t say anything, I just knew you were rambling,” you tell him.

“Well if it wasn’t just my drunken rambling what would you have to say about that?” He asks, which catches you off guard, and you look down for a moment to figure out what best to say.

“Well I’d tell you that isn’t true,” you say, mustering up some confidence and just admitting it.

“What’s not true?” George says trying to drag it out of you, you know what he’s playing at but go along with it anyway.

“That I wouldn’t fall for a guy like you, George,” you tell him.

“Then I was wrong,” he says, nodding.

“You were,” you agree.

“So you said I confessed my love for you,” he says.

“You did, but I just told you that you were drunk,” you tell him.

“Well at least drunk me had the courage to say it,” he says and your heart is beating hard and fast.

“Say what?” You ask, playing at his game now and he rolls his eyes.

“That I may or may not be in love with you,” he says and you feel like your heart could burst. Looking into his deep brown eyes you feel like things are clicking into place.

“Well which is it Georgie? May or may not?”

“I very well may be in love you you y/n,” he admits, looking away.

“Well that’s lucky,” you pause, and he looks up to meet your eyes now, “because I very well may be in love with you too,” you tell him and he smiles.

“That is very lucky indeed,” he says, placing his mug back by his bedside table.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks which you giggle at.

“Please,” you say and with that he takes your face in his hands and places a soft kiss on you before pulling back slowly.

“This isn’t a dream?” He asks laughing slightly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I hope not.”

#george harrison x reader #george harrison imagine #george harrison fluff #georgeharrisonfic #george harrison #beatles x reader

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propertyofnikkisthighs · 5 years

Text

Afraid (Nikki Sixx X reader)

Summary: You meet Sikki Nixx, but then you meet Nikki Sixx and your world is forever altered.

Warnings: Drug use mention, Alcohol mention, ya know Motley things.

1986

I felt like I was underwater. Things were muddled and voices were funny. I had never been so happy. The quaalude my friend Sam had given me had kicked in and I let myself sink further into the sofa I had been sitting on. I wasn’t sure how I ended up at this party with her, we had been drinking at a bar on the strip and next thing I knew we were entering a limo, but they had basically unlimited drugs here so I wasn’t going to complain. I felt the couch shift next to me and heard the person say something, but I couldn’t make it out. Focus (y/n).

“What?” I turned to face the noise and was met with mostly disheveled black hair and the face of a strung out man.

“I said, do you know where I can score smack?” He asked irritated. Oh a junkie, great.

“Mmm no. I don’t know anybody here. I have a quaalude though?” I said lazily opening my hand to reveal the pill sitting in my grip.

“It’s not the same, but it’ll tide me over I guess.” He took the pill out of my hand and popped it into his mouth. “So if you don’t know anybody how did you get in? Are you a stripper or a groupie?”

I scoffed at that. Was I really being judged by a fucking junkie? “I got dragged here in some limo, not that it’s any of your fucking business.” I snapped and rolled my eyes. I wish I hadn’t even offered him my other pill.

“So one of your friends must be fucking someone here.” He laughed. I was getting really annoyed by his arrogant tone.

“Didn’t you just ask me for heroin?” I asked angrily. I wasn’t a violent person by nature, but I could be pushed and I didn’t fear a man who looked like a human pin cushion.

“You know you’re really a bitch.” He snarled standing up. “I’m Nikki fucking Sixx, any girl would be creaming their fucking panties to be talking to me.”

Now that he had said his name I could really see who he was, thanks drugs. I liked Motley Crue and had even seen them live a few times, and he didn’t even look like Nikki Sixx he was so strung out. It kinda made me sad.

“Yeah well I’m more of a Bon Jovi kind of girl anyway. Motley isn’t my cup of tea.” I lied. I wasn’t about to tell him I actually liked his band.

“So you just all around have horrible fucking taste” He scoffed. “Fuck you I don’t want to sit here talking to some dumb bitch who doesn’t even know good rock and roll when she hears it.”

And with that he was gone. What a fucking prick.j

1988

I woke up in the back of someone’s car. Oh fuck it finally happened, I was being sold into sex slavery. I started to hyperventalate and panic and tried shutting my eyes and hoping this was a dream when I heard a familiar voice in the front seat.

“Oh hey I think she woke up. (Y/N)?” Sam spoke softly and I felt my heart rate immediately slow down. So I wasn’t kidnapped.

“Where, where am I?” I groaned sitting up my whole body hurting.

“We are in the car” She said slowly looking at me through the rear view mirror.

“Why? Weren’t we just at a party? I don’t remember leaving.” I was trying to put the pieces together of what happened last night.

“We were.” She said with a tight smile hiding something “You passed out.”

Oh yeah, I had taken some pills given to me by one of the band members at the party we were at last night. I vaguely remember downing a bottle of Jack with some other members of a band as well. Who was driving? I looked up to see a very tired Tom Zutaut driving giving me the same tight lipped smile.

“Guys where are we going?” I asked glancing frantically out the window. This all looked way too familiar.

“Well” Sam cleared her throat “You see…”

“(Y/N) we’re taking you to rehab” Tom finished her sentence for her.

“NO! WHAT? FUCK YOU, LET ME OUT” I screamed trying to pry the door open. I didn’t need rehab, I was fine.

“(Y/N), it’s this or everyone is done with you.” Sam sobbed “None of us want to watch you keep trying to kill yourself and you’re failing at your job, which is not the (y/n) I know.”

They couldn’t be doing this to me. They wouldn’t be doing this to me. I was fine, this had to be a sick joke.

“It’s not a sick joke.” Tom said exasperated. Oh I must have been speaking out loud.

“I’m not even a junkie” I sobbed. Rehab was for junkies.

“Not yet, but you pop pills like you aren’t far off.” Tom scowled through the rear view at me.

“I’ll stop. Please don’t make me do rehab guys.” I cried holding my leather closer to me.

“It’ll be okay (y/n). You’re going to a very nice rehab on behalf of Elektra themselves.” Sam tried to reassure me by rubbing my leg.

“Wait why?” I worked for them, but why would they pay for my rehab stint?

“Because Motley Crue is going to the same rehab.” Tom filled in. Fuck. No. Not Nikki Sixx. Anyone but Nikki Sixx.

I gulped and mentally prepared myself for the worst experience in the world. “Can I at least get a cigarette?”

Sam handed me one and a lighter and I cranked my window down feeling the warm L.A. air on my face. Okay, all I had to do was cooperate with these doctors and I could probably even leave early, right? Like with jail? I made a mental note to ask Vince if I saw him since he had done this rehab shit before after his accident. The smoke filled my lungs and I breathed out feeling the nicotine work it’s magic. As long as I could still smoke cigarettes I would be okay.

“So what will happen with Alarik?” I suddenly remembered the small black cat in my apartment probably taking a sun nap on my bed.

“I will take care of him while you’re in the center. It’s only thirty days.” Sam responded wiggling her set of keys for my apartment in her hand.

“Well I guess you guys have already had this planned out” I whispered suddenly overcome with sadness about the situation. I felt a few tears cascade down my cheeks and quickly wiped them away. I wasn’t weak. I was raised to not cry. I knew better than to let my emotions take over.

“Well babe you didn’t give us much of a choice.” Sam said solemnly.

“I just want to get this over with honestly” I grumbled. I wasn’t looking forward to having anything to do with Motley Crue or Nikki Sixx after our last encounter a little over a year ago. I hadn’t been working for Elektra then and he hadn’t OD’ed yet. So who knows maybe now that we’re getting sober we’ll be able to get along well. I was right and wrong. We got along better while getting sober, but we didn’t get along well. I didn’t know that Nikki would be the best and worst thing to ever happen to me when we pulled up to the fancy rehab center and saw all the motley boys standing with their suitcases in hand at the bottom of the stairs.

“Who’s the vagina?” Nikki asked when I climbed out of Tom’s car.

“Excuse me?” I snapped stomping up to him. “‘The vagina’ is a person and has a fucking name.”

“No need to be a bitch. I just don’t know you.” Nikki shrugged his bony shoulders. He looked worse than you thought he would with track marks littering both his arms.

“Well maybe if you weren’t such a prick, you would’ve gotten my name last time we met” I poked his chest.

“We’ve never met, I can guarantee that.” He smirked grabbing my finger and shoving it away from his chest.

“Actually I shared a quaalude with you once and you called me a bitch in return so you didn’t get my name, Prikki” I taunted.

“Well it seems my assessment of you the first time we met was accurate then.” He still had the devilish smirk plastered on his face. I wanted to sock him and knock it right off his smug face.

“And my assessment of you being a junkie had been correct, clearly.” I growled.

Someone cleared their throat and we both snapped our attention to the people standing around us awkwardly watching our exchange.

“Well I’m Tommy” Tommy said holding out his hand with a huge grin.

“(Y/N)” I said returning the smile and shaking his hand.

“Wow pretty girl and a pretty name” Vince said giving me a once over. This was about to be a long thirty days.

Mick just cleared his throat and made a small wave while Sam and Tom resumed grabbing my things from the car. They led us up the stairs into the waiting room of the facility. It smelled far too clean, too much like bleach. I really hoped this wasn’t how the remaining thirty days were gonna go, cause things were not off to a good start whatsoever. We were led to our rooms by a nurse who informed us that Elektra had kindly paid for us all to be in one wing together, how sweet. My room ended up being directly across from Nikki’s. Great. Before I could make my way into my room I heard him say my name.

“Pleasant dreams neighbor” He smirked walking into his room and shutting the door.

How was I supposed to get sober when I felt like I needed to drink just dealing with Nikki?

#nikki sixx x reader #nikki sixx fanfic #motley crue fanfic #nikki sixx fic

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oforamuse · 4 years

Text

i had a dream (i got everything i wanted) chapter 2/?

mickey milkovich hasn’t seen ian gallagher in over 9 years, not since the day he broke his heart and they shipped him off to prison for a crime he didn’t technically commit.

the last place he expects to bump into him is new york fucking city.

or, the one where two broken puzzle pieces find a way to fit themselves back together.

au from 5x12/6x01 onwards.

read and comment on ao3 / CHAPTER ONE

Living with Mandy definitely isn’t like the fucking Brady Bunch, or whatever you’d expect between two siblings. They get by mainly because they stay out of each other’s crap and each other’s way. Mickey will go out if Mandy brings home some guy she wants to fuck (and vice versa), Mandy will leave Mickey dinner if she’s cooked enough and he’s getting in late from work, and they both surprisingly take turns in the cleaning jobs - it’s simple and it works. They operate more like convenient roommates than two people from the same childhood home and bloodline. They’ve never been particularly close and they don’t really pretend to be. Sure, they have their moments where they laugh and crack open a beer a few nights a week but they don’t come crying to each other about their problems. Mickey can count the number of times Mandy visited him over 6 years on one hand, which he pretends doesn’t hurt, but it does.

He knows he could've been a more supportive brother when he was younger too. They both kind of failed each other in that respect.

By the time Mickey pulls himself off the floor, the kitchen is dark, and he must’ve been lying on the floor hours. He thinks he fell asleep at some point but he can’t be sure, everything is confusing and everything aches.

He stumbles into his room and switches on the light, his eyes taking a moment to adjust. He finds his phone on the side, still plugged in where he’d left it this morning on what he thought was a quick grocery store trip. His stomach swirls at the memory, which is quickly followed by an angry growl and Mickey remembers he hasn’t eaten anything all day. He checks his phone to see the time and there’s a text on the screen from an unknown number a few hours ago.

4:41pm: from UNKNOWN SENDER

‘Mandy gave me your number, I just want to talk.’

‘Fuckin’ traitor.’ Mickey mutters, weighing up whether or not to respond or to throw his phone into the East River. He can claim that on insurance, right?

His stomach growls again and his fingers itch to type out a reply.

Ian’s always been a persistent fucker. Unfortunately for Mickey, he's always ended up giving in to the younger boy. Whether it was putting up with him even when Mickey tried his hardest in the beginning to act like he didn’t want him around or suggesting community college or pushing and pushing and pushing until Mickey grew a pair and came out, Ian always seemed to be nagging about something. Up until those last few months where his mania was getting out of hand, he’d always been the one with the steady plan and expectations, or so Mickey thought. Reluctantly, he knows Ian won’t give up until Mickey gives him a straight answer or hears him out properly, his persistence used to be endearing but now it’s just fucking inconvenient. He sighs, the phone as heavy in his hand as the feelings in his chest and suddenly he feels 19 years old again.

They agree to meet an hour or so later at a bar Mickey frequents a few blocks down, a smaller slightly less sticky version of The Alibi run single handedly by this woman born and raised from Brooklyn. Mickey spent an embarrassingly long time choosing an outfit to wear (which he'd argue was because of having not done his laundry), swapping his shirts multiple times before he just gave up and chose something random. Heck, he even put some cologne on, though he’d never actually admit it.

When he leaves his apartment is tension is palpable and he's somewhat worried he might even break a sweat. Mandy didn't show her face for the rest of the evening, hr door remaining firmly closed, so luckily he didn't have to avoid any suspicious questions.

As soon as Mickey turns the corner and the bar comes into sight, his hands uncharacteristically clam up, instantly regrets giving into the Gallagher’s request. He stops underneath the Heineken sign in the window, basking in the green neon glow as he fishes out a cigarette. He’s already a few minutes late and he figures Ian can live with waiting an extra few minutes whilst he has a smoke to calm his nerves. Mickey had to wait 9 fucking years, the guy can deal with Mickey taking a minute. The smoke fills his lungs, warm and familiar, it’s the only thing normal about this weird fucking day. When Mickey Milkovich woke up this morning he did not expect to come face to face with the guy he’s spent so fucking long trying to move on from, it was absolutely at the bottom of the list of possibilities for the day. He smokes right up to the end of the filter, squeezing out every last moment of peace he can before he flicks it to the ground and stomps on it.

It’s now or never, Milkovich.

He takes a deep breath and pushes the wooden door open, stepping into the busy dimly lit bar.

‘Mickey!’ Rosa calls from behind the bar when she sees him, her smile huge and her hand is already pulling down a pint of Mickey’s usual beer.

Great, announce my fucking presence to the whole room.

He winces, maybe he does come here a little too regularly.

Mickey throws her a forced smile and scans the room for Ian, spotting him sitting in a back corner booth looking at his phone. As if he'd called his name, Ian's eyes flicker up just as Mickey catches him and they meet, Ian holding his hand up awkwardly in greeting. He takes a deep breath and goes over to the bar to get his drink, Rosa throws him a questioning look.

She gestures her head towards Ian’s table. ‘First date?’ She asks innocently, handing him his pint, ‘You meet him online? He’s hot.’ She wriggles her eyebrows suggestively and Mickey wants this all to be over.

‘Stick it on my tab.’ Mickey says steadily, swallowing down a biting response. He ignores her prying questions and chooses to flip her off as a thank you instead. He walks over to Ian’s table, his eyes pinned to a point on the wall above his head so he conveniently doesn’t actually have to look at the guy on his journey over.

His heart thumps. Thump, thump, thump.

He gulps.

There's a moment of blink and you'll miss it hesitation before he slumps down into the booth opposite, then Ian looks up from where he’s been fiddling with the label on his beer. His eyes get drawn to Ian’s slender fingers picking at the paper and he notes that the beer has an incredibly low alcohol percentage, barely even being able to call itself beer.

‘The fuck you drinking that piss for?’ He asks, unable to let the opportunity to poke at the other man pass him by. It's a good icebreaker apparently, because Ian smiles shyly. Mickey's never been one for small talk, especially not when he’s nervous.

‘My meds.’ Ian says simply, his forehead creasing ever so slightly, ‘It took a while getting used to it, but it basically tastes the same.’

He remembers the conversation they had with the doctor, Ian sitting opposite him with dead eyes and not saying a word. Falling further and further away from him with every single description of meds he had to take, or things he couldn’t drink or do because of his diagnosis.

‘Fuckin’ doubt that.’ Mickey grunts casually, taking a swig of his very alcoholic beer. He stares at Ian from over the glass. The other man shifts and reaches a tentative hand out on the table between them. There's a beat.

‘I-, uh, I’ve missed you.’ Ian offers hesitantly, his voice low and uncertain.

‘No you haven’t.’ Mickey says bluntly, his right hand gripping his glass tightly. Ian sighs, sitting up properly from where he’d been slouched over.

‘I have, Mick.’ Ian replies, and there it is again, that fucking nickname.

‘Miss me enough to come visit me, yeah? Or how about even a fuckin’ call?’ Mickey says bitterly, running a hand through his hair. ‘Miss me fuckin’ enough to leave me high and dry for 6 years?’

Ian scrubs his hands over his face, ‘I’m sorry’ he offers. ‘I shouldn’t have done that to you. I shouldn’t have left you there.’

‘Why did you?’ Mickey asks, and it falls out awkwardly. He's got to know. He's got to know why he wasn't enough.

‘I was a kid and I was fucked up.’ Ian says, pulling his arm back into his lap. Mickey is momentarily shocked at the honesty - he thought Ian would’ve put up more of a fight like he did when he was younger. ‘I was a kid in over his head and I thought I knew best…I thought you were better off without having to deal with me.’

‘Bullshit.’ Mickey spits, anger and hurt beginning to simmer in his belly. Nothing about what he had to go through left him better off.

‘I know that now.’ Ian says, meeting Mickey’s eyes. There isn’t a hint of blame in Ian’s eyes, but his face is held tight with regret. ‘It was bullshit.’

His words rolls over him like a cascading landslide.

God, Mickey can’t even count the amount of time he spent wishing those first few years of being locked up that he’d hear Ian say those words. Mickey rubs at his eyes, breaking their eye contact. He sits there for a second, letting his vision go black and spotty. It kinda looks how he feels. He wishes he could fall right into that dark pit and blink out of existence.

Ian pulls him back.

‘I wanted to come see you.’ Ian confesses and Mickey drops his hands. ‘I really did.’

‘Why didn’t you?’ He asks and Ian looks away, ashamed.

‘I figured you didn’t want to see me.’ He says, quietly, his fingers going back down the ripped up label. ‘It was hard picturing you there…’

‘Bullshit.’ Mickey repeats, this time with more obvious anger. Ian looks up at him, pained.

‘No, Mick, I-’ He stops and swallows. ‘By the time I had managed to sort my shit out, it had been a while. I figured you must’ve hated me.’

‘I didn’t.’ Mickey says firmly, his eyes threatening to well up with unwanted tears. He scrubs them furiously away.

The silence hangs between them, only broken by a bar full of bustling noise.

At least everyone else was having a normal night, Mickey thinks, at least everyone else doesn't have to deal with their entire everything being turned upside down and thrown out for the entire world to see-

‘You should’ve.’ Ian says, finally, breaking Mickey's internal dialogue.

‘Yeah.’ Mickey says, not meeting Ian’s gaze. ‘I probably should’ve.’

He’s exhausted, this is exhausting. He wants to tell Ian that he hated him, that he still hates him. Mickey knows it would be a lie. He wants to tell Ian to fuck off, to get the fuck out of New York and leave him alone.

He can’t. He won’t.

Because try as he might, and he’s tried so fucking hard, everything always comes back to Ian.

‘I’ve never hated you.’ Mickey says subconsciously, finally bringing his eyes up to meet Ian's desperate gaze, ‘Could never hate you.’

And it's true. He never could, never in a million years.

They look at each other. Their years and years of history spread on the table between them. Souls bared and vulnerable.

‘Why didn’t you come find me?’ Ian asks, so quiet Mickey almost misses it. Ian’s gaze shifts awkwardly as he explains as Mickey can feel himself scowl. ‘When you got out?’ Why didn’t you come find me?’

Ian looks at him so earnestly and Mickey almost bowls right over. He can’t fucking believe what he’s hearing.

‘Are you- are you fucking kidding me?’ He bites, jaw clenched so tightly he thinks he might break a tooth. ‘Are you seriously asking me right now, why I didn’t come find you after waiting six motherfuckin’ years for you to come find me?’

Ian shrinks back, ashamed and wounded. He doesn't even try to fight it. ‘I guess I deserve that.’ He says after a while and Mickey raises his eyebrows, surprised once again at Ian’s lack of self defence. ‘I know I fucked things up.’

‘Yeah.’ Mickey breathes, ‘You did.’

He puts his beer to his lips and drinks. It stings.

‘I’m on meds, have been for the last few years.’ Ian confesses. ‘It took awhile to sort out, I, uh, had a rough time at first, but I’m good now.’

Mickey’s heart twinges. He remembers Ian’s mania, him bringing in all kinds of shit into their home, running miles every morning and fucking Mickey long into the night. Fucking other guys between that too. He aches at the thought of Ian barely wanting to get out of bed, going days without food or showering. Not saying a word to anyone for hours.

Mickey runs a hand through his hair, unsure of what to say. He wants to take Ian by the shoulders and apologise for how he acted back then, he wants to slip his arms around his neck and breath him in, pull him close. He settles for a small smile.

‘Good.’ He offers, ‘Better than havin’ your crazy ass running around.’ and Ian laughs weakly.

There’s a bitter taste in his mouth that’s not from his beer. It’s the realisation that Ian got himself better without Mickey’s help, that perhaps Ian was right after all and that one of them was better off without the other.

Fuck, he needs a smoke. His hand comes down to feel the packet in his pocket and he lets it ground him. He'll get through this, he'll get through this and go to the bodega and get his pack of smokes. He just needs to make it through this conversation without completely breaking down.

There’s a pregnant pause, neither man sure of where to step next. He takes a sharp breath and jumps.

‘What the hell are you doing here anyway? Didn’t think they let Gallaghers leave the fuckin’ state.’ Mickey says plainly, shifting the subject. It's been nagging on his mind since their first encounter - what the fuck is Ian doing in New York City of all places?

‘Didn’t think they let Milkovichs either.’ Ian quips back, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

Mickey rolls his eyes, ‘Fair enough.’

‘Fiona’s, uh, Fiona’s actually getting married here.’ Ian explains, ‘She met some rich guy from upstate a year ago and they’re tying the knot.’ Mickey snorts, remembering the string of guys Fiona would always have trailing after her like lost fucking dogs, it’s surprising that one has finally managed to pin her down.

‘She pregnant?’ He asks, both as a genuine question and a jab. Given the Gallagher parent’s rep for popping out a kid every other year or so, he wouldn’t be surprised.

‘Nah.’ Ian replies, ‘In love apparently.’ He chuckles wistfully before his eyes catch Mickey’s for a moment and they shift pointedly away.

‘Good for her.’ He says uncomfortably, and he somewhat means it. There’s a pause and Mickey wonders if it’s time to call it a night because he can not deal with this right now because God. fuckin’. damn. he needs a smoke. Apparently his mouth hasn't caught up with his nicotine addiction, ‘How’d she meet the dude?’ He finds himself asking.

‘He’s some business man or something, he was in town on some job and I dunno, they hit it off.’ Ian shrugs, ‘Lip’s got a kid now, though.’ Mickey’s eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise. He knows that Lip used to be an important part of the Gallagher household but fuck, Mickey would never give that man a kid of his own.

‘Who the fuck gave him a kid?’

‘A broken condom.’ Ian says bluntly, ‘Debbie’s got one too.’

‘A broken condom?’ Mickey quips back, somewhere between confused and somewhat disgusted at the idea of Debbie actually having sex considering the last time he saw her she was practically an infant.

Okay, like 14, but whatever.

‘A kid.’ Ian rolls his eyes almost fondly and it throws Mickey back ten years, as if they were back underneath the bleachers at the dugouts. It’s easy to forget that literal years have passed between them.

‘Jesus Christ , you Gallaghers have been fuckin’ reproducing like rabbits. There’s enough of you in the world as it is.’ He swallows uncomfortably before continuing, ‘You got a kid hiding somewhere?’

‘Fuck no.’ Ian laughs and something uneven in Mickey’s gut he didn’t even know was there settles pleasantly.

He glances quickly down to Ian’s left hand, no ring.

Interesting.

No kid, check. No ring, check. Boyfriend?

‘So the entire clan is back in town then?’ Mickey asks in an attempt to distract his thoughts away from Ian and other people.

‘Yeah, we’re all here.’ Ian replies.

‘Fuck, I’m not gonna be able to leave my apartment without bumping into one of you goddamn Gallaghers.’ Mickey jokes, taking a swig of his beer. There’s a beat and Mickey takes a moment to simply enjoy being back in Ian's company. He's missed him so fucking much he feels like he could drown in it, it rolls over him like waves. Over the years he's barely let himself admit it - he's always gotta be the cool and unbothered one, never the one to harp on the past. He doesn't think he's even mentioned Ian to anyone except Mandy since moving to New York, his name always painful and heavy whenever he does rarely come up. Neither one of them mention the Gallaghers or Chicago really, for that matter. They both silently agreed to leave it behind them.

‘Come to the wedding.’ Ian blurts out. It slams Mickey right back into reality harshly and he almost falls out of his seat, his beer spilling everywhere. Ian looks at him uncomfortably, painstakingly waiting for a response. Neither man moves to grab a napkin.

Is he about to vomit? Are they both about to vomit?

‘What?’ He mutters, Mickey must’ve heard him wrong cause there’s no fuckin’ chance he just asked him to-

‘Come with me to the wedding.’ Ian breathes, offering a hand out on the table. ‘I can have a plus one, I mean it’s Fiona.’ He shrugs self consciously.

Mickey can’t actually believe the words coming out of Ian’s mouth right now. He just told Mickey that he’s on his meds right now, his mania should be under control, did he fucking lie?

He must be on crack, he’s drunk, he’s high out of his fucking mind. That’s the only explanation.

‘Are you-’ Mickey starts, but Ian stops him with a protesting hand. Mickey swallows hard, what the fuck is going on?, ‘Are you out of your mind?’

‘Hear me out, I know it sounds fuckin’ insane.’ He levels, his eyes pleading and is face so fucking earnest and open.

‘Yeah, it fucking does.’ Mickey says incredulously, really hoping that Ian his catching his clear message of what the FUCK.

‘It’s been years, Mick.’ Ian presses, ‘I’m sure everyone would be surprised- love to see you.’ He corrects himself.

Mickey literally has to hold himself back from laughing in Ian’s face, he barely succeeds and he knows his face must be a picture of absolute surprise. He takes a moment and regroups himself, all the humour gone. He knows why they'd be surprised to see him.

‘Years because I was in fuckin’ prison and none of those bastards came to see me.’ He bites, and Ian looks like he’s been slapped.

‘Mickey…’

‘Your family fuckin’ hated me.’ He states plainly, and it’s true, he knows they weren’t his number one fans. In their defence, Mickey found them fucking annoying too. ‘I ain’t wasting my time in a place where I ain’t wanted.’

‘That’s a lie!’ Ian protests, ‘Carl has always liked you, Debbie too, I know Lip can be a dick- and Liam you have to see Liam-’

‘You’re crazy.’ Mickey mutters in disbelief, but Ian holds up a hand in protest. The idea of being thrown back into that... It makes him feel sick.

‘I want you there.’ Ian admits, and it hangs there heavily as he tries to gage Mickey’s reaction. Mickey’s heart pounds inside his chest and he feels like he might vomit on the table between them. ‘I just want to spend some time with you Mick, it’s been…’

‘I want you there.’ Ian repeats, holding his uncomfortable gaze and Mickey really thinks he’s going to vomit this time.

‘You don’t owe me anything, Gallagher.’ He bites back stiffly, attempting to swallow down the lump that’s building slowly in his throat. His hands start to slightly shake and he wraps them around his empty glass to steady them. Ian’s eyes catch onto the quick movement. ‘And I sure as hell don’t owe nothin’ to you.’

This is too much, this is all too much.

‘I want you there.’ Ian says for a third time, his fingers coming to rest hesitantly on top of Mickey’s hands and Mickey surprises himself by not instantly pulling away. The touch blazes like fire, sending sparks through his hand and up his arm.

‘Heard you the fuckin’ first time.’ Mickey mutters, ‘Like a goddamn broken record.’

His gaze shifts down and fixes on their point of contact. Ian’s slim fingers lightly tracing the dark angry ink on his knuckles. He can feel his resolve chipping away, years and years of shutting everything out comes falling to the floor, like his heart is a fucking piñata. He always found it difficult to say no to Ian, even when he was a closeted asshole kid it didn’t come as easy as it must’ve seemed. Even in the most terrifying moment of his life, when Ian asked him to put everything on the line and jump quite literally headfirst out of the closet, he couldn’t say no.

‘Mickey.’

‘I, I just don’t know, okay?’ He pulls his hand away and pinches the bridge of his nose. He really should fucking run, go back to his apartment and book a flight to somewhere fucking far away. His breath hitches. ‘It’s been nine fuckin’ years, I can’t just…’

‘I know.’ Ian breathes, ‘and that’s why I want you there.’ Mickey looks up at him and his eyes are sad, his eyes are so so beautifully sad. ‘Please give me the chance to make it up to you.’

The brick fortress around his heart crumbles around him and comes tumbling to the floor.

‘When is it?’ He sighs, exasperated, and Ian’s eyes light up in disbelief, like he’s just handed the guy a million bucks.

‘Tuesday.’ Ian answers, grinning that same fucking smile. His fist bumps the air playfully, and Mickey’s heart clenches because he looks so young.

‘Tuesday? Tuesday like two days from now?’ Mickey says, scowling and he cannot actually believe he is buying into this shit. ‘You are giving me two days to prepare to see your fuckin’ family? I’m gonna need at least another five years.’ And he’s being 100% serious.

Ian laughs and something warm in Mickey stirs. He doesn’t know what to do with it.

‘It’s gonna be fine.’ Ian says, ‘once they get over the shock of seeing you again.’ He takes a swig of his piss beer and grins at Mickey from over the bottle.

‘Fuck off.’ Mickey says, but there’s zero bite behind it. It's casual and warm, like the old days. He flips him off, ‘I’m gonna get so fucking drunk.’

‘What else is there to do at a wedding?’ Ian says breathlessly, ‘You’re gonna get to meet all the kids!’

‘Whoop di fuckin’ do.’ Mickey sing-songs unenthusiastically, raising his eyebrows at the other man. ‘You’re supposed to be sellin’ this shit to me Gallagher, not makin’ me want to run for the hills.’

Ian laughs, throwing his head back which exposes his pale neck and Mickey gulps. The amount of kisses he has pressed into that very skin, he knows the exact point that drives Ian crazy. They used to spend hours just going at it, Mickey going to town on his neck, licking and biting. His hand comes down to shift himself uncomfortably in his pants as his crotch responds like an inexperienced teenage boy. He can’t fucking believe this is happening.

‘Fiona won’t mind?’ He asks, trying unsuccessfully to shift his focus away from the blood stirring in his groin. Thinking about Fiona Gallagher should definitely make him go soft. It works.

‘Nah’ Ian dismisses easily, ‘I’ll tell her beforehand, so there are no surprises.’

‘Good.’ Mickey finds himself saying, the last thing he wants to be is an unwanted surprise - much like the ones the Gallaghers have apparently been racking up. They find themselves, for the first time since they bumped into each other earlier, in a comfortable silence which neither one of them know what to do with.

‘I’ve missed you.’ Ian admits again, just as Mickey is about to open his mouth to say how he should go get more beer. He tenses, pressing his back into the booth. ‘I- I know I don’t get to say that.’

‘You don’t.’ Mickey mutters, his fingers reaching down to trace the seam of the booth’s fabric. Ian winces, but nods sadly.

‘I’m sorry.’ Ian whispers, ‘I-’

‘Ian.’ Mickey says firmly, and he takes a deep breath, he feels like he’s on the edge of a cliffside about to jump, ‘I’ve missed you too.’

They hold each other’s gaze. Now that’s out in the open. It’s heavy, daunting and too much to handle. His breath hitches and he feels like he could scream. Or cry. Or both.

‘I should go.’ Mickey says, cutting off their eye contact by moving to shift out from their table. Ian’s shoulders drop down.

‘Yeah.’ He says, bringing his hands down to wipe his palms on his thighs.

Is that disappointment Mickey can sense in his voice? Is Ian allowed to be disappointed?

Ian pulls himself out of his seat to meet Mickey standing, making them much closer now than they had been with the table between them. Without that safety distance, Mickey can smell his cologne, it’s not too strong and smells delicious. Mickey wants to bury his face into it.

Fuck.

‘Thanks.’ Ian says, awkwardly bringing up an unsure hand before deciding to place it on Mickey’s shoulder.

‘Yeah, whatever.’ Mickey says as he shakes it off, unable to deal with the closeness right now. ‘Text me the wedding details, if you still want me there.’ He waves his hand dismissively, unable to look Ian in the eye. His throat constricts at the thought of Ian changing his mind on him, again , and Mickey needs to get out of there before he really does scream.

‘Yeah, Mick.’ Ian breathes, ‘I do.’

Mickey nods, and steps backwards, ‘I’ll see you then, I guess.’ He says awkwardly, turning away quickly before Ian can respond. He walks straight out of the bar, onto the sidewalk and right around the block before he doubles over, attempting to get his wrecked breathing under control. He feels like he just ran a marathon or hiked up fucking Everest.

His breath comes out in shaky stutters, his chest hurts. He just wants to go to sleep, or drink, or find some twink to fuck. Anything to get his fucking mind off of the last hour’s conversation. He spits onto the sidewalk then leans his full weight against the brick wall as he pulls out a cigarette and lights it.

A shaky hand brings it to his lips, and he breathes it in.

#shameless #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #gallavich fic #shameless fic

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the--blackdahlia · 5 years

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5 Times

Title: 5 Times

Summary: 4 Times Motley Crue tried to kill themselves, and 1 time they did

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts. Language

1-Nikki

Seventeen years old. No money, no job, no family, no home. That’s exactly the way every kid wants to finish of their childhood, right? Being unloved, broke, and hungry, sitting on the curb outside of a bar and watching the drunks go by.

Frank Feranna, no, Nikki Sixx, would’ve done anything to not be in that situation right then.

He had a knife burning a hole in his pocket. He had cut his arm before. He still had the scar to prove it. How else was he supposed to get away from that mother of his? And he was not about to go back to it. But the only way he could see on getting out of his situation was at the sharp end of a switchblade knife. He pulled the item out of his pocket and stared at it. It almost seemed to glow under the flickering street lights. He closed his eyes, trying to find something in him that wanted to fight, wanted to live.

“Hey kid,” A voice called out from the entrance of the bar right behind Nikki. He turned to see a man standing there. “What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be at home?”

“I guess,” Nikki grumbled. The man took a step towards him.

“Jesus, you’re a fucking skeleton,” He looked Nikki up and down. “I tell you what. I need an extra hand. The Hollywood Vampires are here tonight and I’m a man down. You help me out, and I’ll let you eat whatever you want when they leave.”

“What?” Nikki asked, a little confused.

“Come on. You look like you could use a burger and I need help. What do you say?”

Nikki looked down at the knife and slid it back into his pocket before getting up and following the man into the Rainbow, where he spent the night serving the Hollywood Vampires and their guests, and eating until he couldn’t eat another bite.

2-Mick

What fucking good is a guitarist with ankylosing spondylitis? No fucking good, in Mick’s opinion. What was he going to do? Sit on a stool and strum while everyone else in his band got to run around and have fun? No fucking way. He wasn’t going to be some invalid.

But the depression that came with the diagnosis was starting to take a toll on him. He could already feel it slowly destroying him. And he honestly wanted to destroy himself before it had a chance to.

Vodka dulled the pain, but only for a little bit. Pills helped, but got the same results. He couldn’t handle the short term pain management anymore. It was starting to get so bad, he decided the best way to handle it was to do both at once. It would either kill him or help him, either he would take right then. He stared at the mound of pills in his hand and the bottle of clear liquid in his hand.

There was a knock at his bedroom door then. He cringed, thinking it was her, but a small voice accompanied the knock.

“Daddy?” Les’s voice could be heard through the door. “Are you awake?”

Mick took a deep breath and deposited the pills back into the bottle before going to the door.

“Hey Les,” Mick crouched down in front of him. “What’s up?”

“Daddy, can you read me a story?” He held the book out to his dad, which caused a smile to spread on Mick’s face.

“Sure thing kid. Want to help me read to Stormy?” Les nodded excitedly and took Mick’s hand, going to his baby sister’s room to help daddy read to her like a good big brother.

3-Vince

He didn’t sleep. The nightmares of what he had done kept him awake. He had killed someone, injured two others. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Razzle’s mangled body, the twisted metal of the car, he could smell the booze, and it all made him so sick. So he didn’t sleep until his body physically wouldn’t let him go on anymore.

It all came to a head during Theater of Pain. Nikki and Tommy were two busy who could snort the most lines, and Mick was trying to pass off his vodka as water. No one seemed to notice how fake his smiles were, how tired he was. As long as he put on a good fucking show, who cared? The fans sure didn’t, Doc didn’t, the other people in the band didn’t. As long as he belted out the songs right, signed some autographs, and banged a few chicks, no one gave two shits about him.

That’s why he was sitting in his dressing room, staring at the wall. That’s why he was thinking about the ways that he could end it. Because he should’ve died that night. He was the one that was drinking and driving, and he was the only one who walked away from it. How the fuck did he get to live when Razzle died? Beth had left him and taken the kids with her. He had court appointed sobriety tests until his probation was up. And no one fucking cared. They all drank in front of him, smoked and snorted in front of him, and partied it up while he was having to stay sober and sing the same shitty songs over and over again. If it wasn’t for Home Sweet Home, the album would’ve blown hard core.

He held his head in his hands. What was he supposed to do? His marriage was over. His kids only saw him a couple times a month, and the band that he had once loved, he now hated. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, all because of his big fuck up.

“Yo, fucker, it’s time to go!” Tommy called out.

“Come out and play Vinnie!” Nikki’s voice echoed. He was sure that Mick was out there, shaking his head at the two idiots.

“Vince! Come on man let’s go!” Tommy hit the door. Vince sighed and shook his head before getting up and opening the door. “Bout fucking time dude! Let’s go!” Tommy and Nikki took off down the hallway. Mick snagged Vince’s arm.

“I know that look,” He told him. “I know what you’re going through.”

“I’m fine Mick. Promise.” Vince lied. Mick shook his head.

“You know where my dressing room and hotel room is every stop. Don’t go through this alone,” He squeezed Vince’s shoulder before walking after Tommy and Nikki, Vince following up the parade.

Maybe someone did care after all…

4-Tommy

He was twenty-three. At twenty-three, he should’ve been getting drunk, playing music, and having the time of his life. Not standing in a courthouse getting a marriage annulled. He thought all his relationships would end up like his parents did. A proposal within hours of knowing each other, two kids, and a loving, lasting relationship. His parents didn’t fight, they didn’t resent each other.

Why was he so broken that he couldn’t find that?

He honestly thought Eliane was going to be the one. He followed everything exactly how his dad did, yet here he was, just a couple short months after tying the knot with her, he was separating from her.

“Fuck!” Tommy screamed out before he started throwing everything in his hotel room that wasn’t bolted down. Mattress, TV, lamps. It all went as far as he could throw them. He felt like his world was coming to an end. Why had it come to this? Why couldn’t he just have a moment of happiness?

He sank to the floor, surrounded by his mess. He wanted to go to sleep and not wake up. He wanted to just disappear. If he already screwed up marriage by twenty-three, what was he supposed to do next in life?

“T-Bone!” Nikki called as he came through Tommy’s door before stopping dead in his tracks. “Dude, what the fuck happened in here?”

“Go away Nikki,” Tommy mumbled, pulling his legs to his chest.

“Shit, what’s wrong?” Nikki sat on the floor by Tommy. “Hey, it’s me we’re talking about. You can’t hide things from me, you know that, right?” He nudged him with his elbow.

“I’m divorced,” Tommy whispered. “I screwed up and I’m divorced.”

“I don’t think this marriage falling apart was all your fault man,” Nikki told him. “I mean, you guys only knew each other a week, right?”

“My parents only knew each other a day,” Tommy grumbled.

“And you’re not your parents dude,” Nikki stood up and pulled Tommy to his feet. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“I don’t want…”

“No. We’re going out and that’s final.” Nikki stated before pulling Tommy to every strip club in town. By the end of the night, Tommy was feeling better. At least, a little bit. He leaned against Nikki as they stumbled back to their hotel.

“Hey Nik?” Tommy slurred.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t ever let me marry a pornstar again,” To which Nikki just laughed.

5-Motley Crue

White walls, large windows, support groups, therapy. It all fucking sucked. But it was needed. They had taken the role of the Bad Boys of Rock way too far, and it almost cost them. They needed this, despite what Vince said. This was the second time he had gone through it, and it wasn’t any better the second time around. He wouldn’t have gone through with it if Tommy didn’t have to be such a follower. Anything Nikki did, Tommy wanted to do. And Tommy convinced Mick, which left Vince. And he was not about to be the asshole who said no to rehab just because he didn’t want to.

But a couple months after they walked through the doors, bodies tired, hair greasy, and more drugs than blood in their system, they walked back out those doors, leaving behind a heroin addict, a cokehead, and two alcoholics in their wake.

They killed their old selves to start anew, and this was the first time, they all actually went through with it.

Forever Tags: @anathewierdo @dekahg @marvel-af-imagines @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogarukes @xxwarhawk @sandlee44 @shatteredabby @caswinchester2000 @supernaturalwincestsblog @lauravic @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @teller258316 @horrorpxnk @tommyleeownsme

Motley Crue Tags: @primal-screamer @waywardprincess666 @twistnet @saint-of-los-angeles @vader-kai @motleyfuckingcruee @sharon6713 @kawennote09 @2dead2function @nikkisixxwiththebass @iamtiber-andtiberismusic @jayprettymuchomw @charlyallise @you-know-im-a-dreamer @sweet-dreams-on-butterfly-wings @estxxmotley @arianareirg @the-normal-potato @nikki-sixxtynine @jjjjjjjoshdun @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @stella20131991 @tarahell @wowilovenikkisixx @i-want-to-shoot-myself @motleycrueee @sams-serialkiller-fetish @getbackhonkycatt @are-you-reddie54321 @flamencodiva @lesliethegroupie @deacyduck @scarecrowmax @major-tom-is-a-junky @anyasthoughts @bandaids-not-groupies

#Motley Crue #Tommy Lee #nikki sixx #mick mars #Vince Neil #fanfiction

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niksixx · 5 years

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The Other Side of Paradise

This is my first Song Fic! The song is “The Other Side of Paradise” by Glass Animals. The lyrics are bold and italicized!

Requested: Yes, by an Anon!

Pairing: The Dirt!Vince Neil x Reader

Warning: Language

*Picture is NOT mine. Found on Google. Credit to the owner.*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“When I was young and stupid my love

Left to be a rock and roll star

He told me please don't worry

Wise little smile that spoke so safely”

“These guys are the real deal babe,” Vince said enthusiastically. “This is my shot.”

You knew Vince and his band would be great. At first you were hesitant when you and Vince arrived at Nikki’s small apartment. And then you heard them play.

“I just don’t want you to get your hopes up and then have them come crashing down,” you say, resting your head on his shoulder. After staying at Nikki’s apartment for the majority of the day, meeting the rest of the crew and watching them perform a few songs together, you were finally able to curl up in bed. Wrapping an arm around your shoulder, Vince pulled you into his bare side, dusting a kiss over your forehead.

“I don’t think that’ll happen. I mean, with my vocals, Nikki’s bass skills, Tommy’s drumming, and Mick’s guitar riffs,” Shaking his head, he peered down at you. “We’re bound to make it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

God, if only Mötley Crüe could just keep playing at the Starwood. That was the name the four had decided on, and after watching their antics for the past three months, it fit them perfectly. You went to every show, and with each show, more people piled into the small venue.

And then they had met Doc McGee and Tom Zutaut, Tommy Z as you called him. Together, Doc, Tommy, and Elektra Records worked tirelessly to get the boys on their very first tour of America. “It’s time for America to meet Mötley Crüe,” Nikki had said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

No matter how many times Vince begged you to join them on tour, you declined every time. Your life was in West Hollywood, you couldn’t just leave it behind. You had school, work, and an internship all occupying your life.

There was a part of you that wanted Vince to stay. It was impossible to predict the future, predict what would happen to Mötley Crüe and its four members. What you really wanted was for Vince to stay with you and work at his electrician job, and possibly get married in the next two years. And that part of you was selfish, and hell, you couldn’t be self-centered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so you let him leave. You let him leave to become a star, and a star he would be. The night before, you made sure to hold him a little tighter.

“Don’t you worry,” he whispered in your hair, holding you around the waist. “I’ll be back before you know it, and I’ll leave my heart with you.”

His smile was pure and his words were sincere, so what choice did you have other than to feel completely safe and at ease?

“I wish you could see the wicked truth

Caught up in a rush, it's killing you”

You wish you had never visited. Mötley Crüe was halfway done touring America, but dear God you wished you would’ve just stayed home. Vince was surrounded by groupies, drugs, and alcohol, and you were terrified that he was enjoying it.

After every big show was a bigger, more exciting after party. The alcohol was cheap, the drugs? Endless. You watched as Vince took bump after bump, even offering you a silver plate filled with white powder.

He was spiraling out of control and he didn’t even notice. He barely called, and when he did, he was drunk or high, unable to hold a conversation.

You didn’t want to fight, but hell, he had told you not to worry.

“You’re making too big a deal of this,” Vince slurred one night. “Look, I’m fine.” He held up his hands and the bottle of beer slipped from his fingers, drenching your legs.

You stood up hurt, angry, annoyed, everything all at once. Taking in the sight before you, a drunk Vince with half closed eyes and a plate of cocaine on his lap, you came to the realization that this was his life, and he didn’t see anything wrong with it.

You were smarter than that. The adrenaline rush that came with the tour was slowly killing him, and you wouldn’t stay around to watch. You wouldn’t watch the man you loved destroy himself.

“I miss him don't you blame me

That boy went stone cold crazy”

Years later, you’d gotten the call. Vince killed Razzle. Tommy was crying over the phone, telling you not to freak out. But how could you not? No, you and Vince weren’t together anymore; You’d broken up shortly after the release of their second album, Shout at the Devil, and fuck that was a year ago, 1983. As much as it was a relief to be rid of Vince and the drugs, you missed him deeply. And by God you really shouldn’t.

So you did what any normal ex-girlfriend would do; You drove thirty-seven minutes to Vince’s beach house in Redondo Beach where you were met by Mick, Nikki, Tommy, and many other partygoers. The house looked like a tornado had passed through; Empty bottles littered the floor, clothes were strewn everywhere, and small silver plates with cocaine occupied every visible table.

With the sternest voice you could find, you looked everyone dead in the eye. “Get the fuck out, right now, or the cops will be called.”

And then you were left with the three remaining Crüe members. They sat on the couch, drunk, high, tired, a combination of all three.

“You had all better get your shit together,” you spat. They nodded solemnly, avoiding eye contact. “Now, where the fuck is Vince?”

~~~

The officers almost didn’t let you see Vince, and that was the first time you had ever contemplated punching a figure of authority. Keeping your cool, you begged to have five minutes alone with Vince and after some harsh words, the officers lead you to Vince’s small cell in the police station.

His eyes lit up when he saw you and he rushed forward, taking ahold of the cage bars in front of him. His clothes were soaked in blood and there was a gash in his eyebrow and lip, but he seemed to be intact.

“Baby, what're you doing here?”

Shaking your head, you took a step back. “Do not call me that. You lost that privilege a long time ago.”

It was a heartbreaking sight. The Vince you once knew had become a stranger. The man you loved and planned to spend your life with? Gone.

“What happened to you?” You whispered, tears gathering in your eyes. “Drunk driving Vince? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I-I thought I was f-fine,” he sputtered, desperately trying to reach for your hand.

“Vince Neil, you are nowhere near fine, and you haven’t been fine for years. You killed someone. You killed someone. And it was your own fucking friend,” This was in its entirety the most difficult conversation you’d ever had. “You told me years ago not to worry and here I am three years later, talking to my ex-boyfriend in a jail cell at the police station, worried out of my damn mind.”

“I thought I could control it—.”

“That was your first mistake,” Taking another step back, you wrapped your arms around your torso. “No, scratch that. The first mistake was taking the drugs. The second was thinking you could control them. And the third mistake was getting in that fucking car tonight.”

“Have you never made a fucking mistake before?” Vince yelled, clasping onto the bars. “Don’t fucking lecture me, Y/N.”

An empty laugh escaped your lips as you glanced at the officer standing nearby. “Yeah, Vince. I made the mistake of coming here.” Nodding at the officer, you headed for the door.

“Wait, no, baby, please,” Vince whimpered. “I’m sorry, wait—.”

“Rot in hell, Vince.”

#motley crue #the dirt actors #the dirt head cannons #the dirt smut #the dirt concepts #the dirt movie #the dirt boys #the dirt imagines #the dirt #nikki sixx #vince neil #mick mars #tommy lee #douglas booth #iwan rheon #mgk #daniel webber

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mrsmess · 4 years

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Faves and fails of SPN (season 12):

Favorite episodes in chronological order:

12:3 The Foundry - Mylings! Nuff said. And I knew it as soon as I heard the baby cry. And that makes me feel good about me.

12:4 American Nightmare - Stigmata. Dean dressed as a priest getting stuck looking at a boy lighting a candle in the church. Mr Mess: ”Dean! Time and place!” Sam wasting his sensemaking on a relentlessly angry Dean as usual, but then laying the hard truth on the crazy lady - is it hot in here?

12:5 The One You’ve Been Waiting For - Nazi dirtbags! Referencing one of the great episodes of season 8 too. Good. Good. And Allison Paige is friggin’ beautiful! Nauhaus is such a spoofy villain I think this is a comedy. ”Do you know what it’s like to have en nazi necromancer as a father?” ”He had a guy named Fritz try to kill me!” GOLD.

12:6 Celebrating the life of Asa Fox - badass-intro. And Jody. Hunter community! Canadian hunter community! Here for it. Bucky, or as I like to call him: demon nr 5 from early season.... single digits.

12:7 Rock never dies - Loving this glam-metal thing. Crowley in LA. And omg! Cass being snarky with Dean of all people. ”Atleast I don’t look like a lumberjack.” I laughed. And Mr Mess pointed out that Cass is tired, that that’s why he snapped, and it dawned on me that Cass is *choosing* to be kind under normal circumstances. My heart! ”I work for sexists, rasists, even politicians.” Lol. Loving the group dynamic of the four. But I’m a bit disappointed that Lucifer can’t chill, he could have had so much fun.

12:11 Regarding Dean - A goofy Dean episode. That’s rarely bad news. I like Rowena in this, she’s rly growing on me.

12:15 Somewhere between heaven and hell - Honesty’s the best policy, signed, Dean. Hear, hear! ”So, ten years ago did you rly want something? Like, a Hello Kitty backpack or the death of an enemy?” Lol! Dean and Crowley and Lucifer breaking free! Dean is a hoot this episode. Sam, killing the hellhound like a pro, and thanking Crowley. And Crowley kicking Lucifer’s ass. That’s the stuff. And Sam being honest with Dean and Dean being all reasonable about it! Loving it!

12:16 Ladies drink free - Claire! Nuff said. Loving everyone this episode, except Mick of course, but my homicidal thoughts at the sight of his beard have lessened. ”The experiment was on mice.” Werewolf-mice! XD

12:17 The british invasion - Eileen! God this show needs more women, the brothers are so much better dealing w them, which I guess is a problem on its own. ”Make your voice a mail.” Oh Cass. Eileen and Sam! My heart! Am I shipping this? God I hope not, it’ll mean instant death. God, Mick is an idiot, I mean, I’m obv digging his change of heart, but apparently he hasn’t learned a thing in the entire life he’s worked for his fucky organization.

12:18 The memory remains - Goodness. Loving this intro. Taxidermist sheriff. Man, sometimes I feel these quirky characters are wasted on the just-passing-through format. ”Hunting people! Killing them! The family business!” Lol.

Fail episodes in chronological order:

12:1 Keep Calm and Carry on - ”You’re bad at your job.” Sure, she has a point, but as generous as this british chick’s offer is, her pitch is somewhat lacking. A torture montage is the quickest way to wind up on the fail list. Also ”break his mind”? That’s what it’s like inside Sam’s head *all* the time.

12:2 Mamma Mia - A sexscene featuring Dean Forrester is the second quickest way to wind up on the fail list. You say his name is Sam Winchester? Nah. Nope. Not buying it. Listen, I know I talk a tall game about being a big Sam-fan, I just don’t ship him with a.n.y.o.n.e. So what the sexscene isn’t real!? I still had to see it with my own orbs of sight. ”Your job was to find american hunters and gain their trust.” I’m howling! Maybe *you’re* rly bad at your job, lady!

12:10 Lily Sunder has some regrets - uhm... using demon number 5 to play other randos throughout a 15 season show I’ll forgive them for but you can’t use the same distinct actor (Ian Tracey) to play two distinctly different characters (Lee/Ishim) and not acknowledge it, especially when they could easily explain it as Lee’s body being possessed by Ishim. It ruins the whole episode for me. Also, I’m rooting for the ”bad” guy.

12:14 The raid - The british men of letters are the worst, they are worthless recruiting agents, salesmen and got crappy intel; where the Winchesters go the rest of the american hunters will follow? Pretty sure the opposite is true: ”Oh shit, the Winchesters are joining ’em? Better stay as far away from that shit as possible!” Also Mary’s being more than a little silly and I’m surprised Sam didn’t give her some speech about how he used to aim for big things like killing the devil, closing the gates of hell, before learning to settle for more realistic goals, like, staying alive, keepin your brother alive, savoring the occasional win, y’know, for the sake of your mental health. Anyhoo; Sam’s reaction on finding out Mary gave the Colt to the british men of letters might have been enough put it on the fave list but there are just so many icky characters and so many shots of Mick’s ugly beard I can’t let it slide. Plus Sam winds up joining these assholes. Boooohhhh!

12:20 Twigs & twine & Tasha Banes - Jeez. Petition to have Dean always justify his icky feelings about something w the Star Wars classic ”i got a bad feeling about this.” It would save time and my sanity. Also I have issues w Mary not being reasonable and understanding the basics about the life she and the boys are leading - you’re in or out, but there’s no finishing it w/o finishing yourself. Is this season’s big bad trying to annoy me to death? And the other hunters? What is it with this show and any other fun or awesome characters? Sorry, can’t keep ’em on, it’s a density-thing.

12:21 There’s something about Mary - Booohh! First Eileen, my bae (did I call it or did I call it?) and then the entire episode is full of The Big Annoying. First episode I didn’t bother finishing. Screw this season.

12:23 All along the watchtower - honestly I don’t get the constant jokes about IKEAs manuals, they’re all pictures, you don’t even need to be able to read to read them. Crowley <3 Plz spare me this show’s take on child birth, really just any show, (how is it possible that it’s so frickin’ hard to get right??), but especially this show’s. And Crowley. And Cass. And Mary. Such an intense bummer.

Honorable mentions:

Crowley blowing up Rowena’s scammer! And Rowena’s reaction! ”That is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me!” Covered in blood. Priceless.

Cass and his sass is on this season. He’s so done w everyone. The exasperation!

The hug at the end of 12:22.

Dishonorable mentions:

Dean and Sam making a deal to get out of jail, kinda unepic w a predictable outcome.

Mediocre mentions:

The entire episode Stuck in the middle (with you) - It’s a Reservoir Dogs reference right? And it works very well until you realize that, then you just start missing Tarantino’s poignant dialogue about tipping (not fucking!) your waitress. The return of the yelloweyed bloodline. Bound to happen with Mary back. Don’t care about that but I do care about Crowley being back and being awesome. The Dukes of Haphazard. That’s good, I’ve just been referring to them as the Two Stooges.

The episode Who we are - There are separate aspects of this I like: Dean and Sam blasting their way out of the bunker, Jody and Alex, Dean dreamwalking Mary back home. Ackles is a genius with this sort of thing. But it’s just so silly: The british men of letters are just so unepic, it ruins everything, wraps it in a mediocre blanket: They’re bad at their job, have inexplicable motivations, are such annoying stereotypes the only way this would be a win would’ve been if Sam’s speech went something along the lines of ”I’ve had this fly buzzin’ around my ear all year, I could use your help squashing it.” But at least, then they do.

Summing up:

I’m rly enjoying the warped relationships early in the season. Crowley and Cass. Rowena and Lucifer, Rowena and Crowley. Sam, Dean and Mary. But my usual creed about the gooey middles of seasons doesn’t hold true this time and I rly feel like it gets good only when it’s almost over. And honestly on whole the season is the worst so far. The british men of letters are so annoying and they’re everywhere, tainting everything. Ugh.

#supernatural #spn meta #no longer a rewatch #no this is not a supernatural blog #favorite episodes

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doof-doofblog · 3 years

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"I'm Taking Ben With Me!"

Tuesday 17th November 2020

Hello again everyone! Hope you're all doing okay! Now this the episode that the majority of us have been anxiously waiting for! Is the robbery going to be a success? Or is something going to go horribly wrong and someone gets caught? I'm really looking forward to writing about this episode, something tells me it's going to be gripping and explosive!

The episode begins with Phil, Shirley, Ben, Kat and Kush all arriving at the Insurance building to make a start on their robbery. Phil instructs the group that he wants things to be over as quickly as possible, it makes sense that they shouldn't be there for as long as they specifically have to! He makes it perfectly clear they need to be in and out, end of! Kat informs them that the security guard won't be there until 8am, which really should leave them plenty of time! But then again is it 8am or 8pm? Who knows? I'm sure that will come to light as the episode goes on. They quickly go off in separate directions - Ben and Phil together, Shirley and Kat together and then Kush.

Ooooh, meanwhile back on the Square, Ian enters the Vic after calling the police about the robbery. The look on his face looks like guilt to me - maybe even dismay, jealousy, shock - maybe all of them rolled into one? Max once again calls out to him as he's sat in a booth, as to whether he's got the money to pay him back - Ian ignores him and turns around to see Sharon behind the bar approaching him, asking him where he had been, he ignores her also and makes his way upstairs of the Vic. Max and Linda giggle as they think he's giving everyone the silent treatment because of their actions earlier in the day, sneaking behind the bar and giving out free booze! As they giggle about Ian, Max is looking through Linda's portfolio of her idea of making superhero costumes for autistic children. Sharon watches them as they seem to get cosy. Max is complimenting Linda's work and pushing her to go for her new business plan, even though Linda admits she can't afford it, even if she did want to go ahead with it. Max then asks whether Mick knows, but Linda bows her head and admits that she hasn't told him yet, considering he's been going through a lot lately, she feels perhaps this isn't the right time to be informing him about her new idea. Max looks at her almost with sympathy, but it does look as if he's contemplating something - will he somehow give her the money to start her business? Will he end up helping her set it up? What do you guys think?!

Across the Square, Tina has packed her suitcase after overhearing Iqra and Ash talking about her moving out. She tries to reassure them that their decision is fine and that she completely understands, Iqra appears to be really sympathetic and Ash apologises for her finding out the way she did. When they ask where she's going to stay, Tina jokingly says "The park bench seems free!" - they look at her with shocked expressions but she reassures them that she'll be okay. But in all seriousness, where is she going to go? It's not like she can go back to the Vic, will Gray maybe take her in as he has with Shirley? Could she go and stay with Mick and Linda for a while until she finds her own place? I'd hate to see her be homeless!

At the police station, DI Thompson is playing the recording of Phil and Kat discussing their robbery, whilst Callum is also in the room hearing the discussion. Thompson pushes for Callum to inform him about what he knows, but Callum insists that that is the first time he's heard anything about it, he even insists that Ben wouldn't tell him anything like that! Thompson begins to get frustrated until a fellow officer rushes in telling them that they've had an anonymous tip-off about a robbery and the culprits disguised as cleaners. Thompson knows that that is where Phil and Ben are, he instructs Callum that no matter how he does it, he wants someone arrested! Callum begins to panic and we see him send a message to his boyfriend, warning him to get out of the building! But back at the Insurance company, Ben, Phil and Kush have found the parking lot with the expensive cars, Ben and Phil work separately on different cars whilst Kush stands and watches - he questions how he can help in any way, but they just inform him not to touch anything. Kush watches with a (quite a cute) smile - must be the adrenaline!

Returning to the Vic, Ian is starring into space, almost in a world of his own. Are the events of his actions running through his mind? Does he actually realise he's put his brother and his Dad in danger? Does he feel no shame or dismay?! As he sits alone, Lexi is stood in the doorway and calls him a "Snake!" - which takes Ian completely by surprise. I love little Lexi, she's such a superstar! She informs her Uncle that that is what her Dad calls him. As she continues to insult her Uncle further, Kathy appears and informs she'll be taking Lexi home shortly. As Lexi disappears, Kathy informs her son that she's come deliver his mail, Ian appears thankful to his Mother, she informs him that not everyone is against him, even though it must feel like it right now. She then shows him that one specific later that came was the first payment of the Cafe remortgage is due, suddenly Ian's face drops as his Mum asks him to take care of it, he then sheepishly asks her whether she can pay for it for the month and he'll start to pay from the following month. Kathy instantly looks really disappointed in her son, she questions whether that was his plan from the very beginning, put her into debt and then her be the one to pay it all back. Ian insists that that isn't the case and tries to explain that he needs a few weeks to sort things out - I think that Ian has got himself into something he can't control, he can't pay Max back, he can't pay his Mum back, he can't even pay for the remortgage payments. I think he's on a big downward spiral. Kathy refuses to pay for it and tells her son that it's on his shoulders, but just as she turns to walk away, Ian starts acting like a child and saying that she would do it for Ben - so he is! He's jealous of his brother! Is that it?! - He claims that Ben is the Golden Boy and can do no wrong, but when he drops the insult that she's an unpaid baby-sitter, Kathy hits back! She informs her son that she actually doesn't want paying to look after her granddaughter, because that's what families do!!! That's what Grandparents do! You'd think by now that Ian would understand the concept of "Family" instead of always focusing on money. Kathy states that she would've hoped that Ian would've had a conscience after everything he's done, but it looks like he well and truly hasn't got one!

Back at the parking lot in the Insurance building, Phil and Ben are attempting to jump-start the cars. Ben appears to get his car going pretty quickly as Phil is struggling with the wires of his car. Ben looks over and queries whether his Dad is having problems, but Phil is adamant he's almost got it working. Kush then asks whether he could help, but Phil insists that his only role is to get the gate open when they're ready to leave, but Kush checks they only have 40-odd minutes remaining. Kush makes the valid point that getting the gate open will only take him 5 minutes, Phil then passes Kush the crowbar, instructing him to get the last car working. As he does so, Kush once again gives Phil an excited smile, I do feel it must've been the adrenaline rush of the possibility of doing a successful robbery and the chance of getting a good amount of money at the end of it. Phil laughs and comments that the job they're doing now is much better than selling boob-tubes!

Returning to the Square and at the Prince Albert, Tina walks in with her suitcase to find Kathy drinking on her own. As she joins her, Kathy notices that she has her luggage with her, she informs the poor girl that she can't sleep in the bar again. Tina then comes to the realisation she'll have to bunk up with Shirley again. It's then that Kathy responds to her by telling her that she has family who care about her, Tina can see that Kathy is upset about something and asks what's wrong. Now whether it's the drink that causes her to spill the beans or whether she just needs someone to talk to, Tina pours her another glass of wine and promises not to say a word to anyone, Kathy confides in her colleague about Ian committing fraud by forging her signature and re-mortgaging the Café, much to Tina's shock.

Back at the Vic, as Ian quickly sneaks out into the back in the background, Sharon is at the front and appears to be on the phone to a solicitor, she's informing them that she's knows what is owed to her and what Phil's solicitor is offering can think again about their offer. Ahhh, it's all coming to light now! Max has approached Bobby and is trying to convince him to change the age on his leaflet, and the only reason that Max has done that is so Linda can apply for her business idea. Bobby seems doubtful at first as his thought process is that his sister would want the opportunity to go to someone who was her age, but Max tries to push him to change the age limit, as that way there would be more applications from older ladies. Bobby asks Sharon for her advice, seeing as she and Max are both trustees for Bobby's charity, and she voices her opinion - on what good it'll do for Max? But he insists he's just doing right with a business attitude. Suddenly Linda appears and asks them what she's missed and when she realises that Bobby has agreed to change the age limit on his applicants, Max smiles at her and Linda instantly knows that he's done that for her. She thanks him for helping her and she starts to wonder how she'll make a start on her new business plan, however she needs to send in the application first - what if she's not successful?! She's getting in a bit over her head isn't she? Well Max also?! Or is it written in the stars - she'll apply and she'll get the money to start her new business. Max encourages Linda to call her husband and tell him the good news, however she seems reluctant to do so. As Max approaches the bar to get them another drink, Sharon confronts him head on - she knows what he's up to and warns him to stay away from her, even though Max plays dumb, Sharon can see right through him and warns him that she is her best mate and doesn't want her ruining her marriage to Mick, she doesn't want their marriage ending in divorce - she states that Mick and Linda are meant for each other. Max tries to reassure the blonde vixen that he and Linda are just friends, so she has nothing to worry about. But Sharon gives him one last warning, she'll be watching him from a distance!

Back at the parking lot, Kush successfully manages to break into the car, he seems so proud of himself and so excited, once he knows that he has managed to get into the car, Phil sets things in motion, for them to get into their cars ready to driver off and he instructs Kush to get the gate open. However, when Kush goes over the gate and types in the code, nothing happens. He tries for a second time and once again, nothing happens - has Kat given them the wrong code?! Or is he simply putting in the wrong code?! I don't know whether you guys noticed but the final digit of the code looks like either the number 6 or the letter B (In lower case) - Kush only types in the number 6, something is telling me that he's simply typing it in wrong and it actually is the lower-case B. But I could be wrong, maybe Kat has got the code wrong. Kush looks over to Phil and Ben in a slight realisation of panic that they might not be able to get out. Meanwhile, Kat and Shirley are trying their best to clean the offices, well Kat is however, whereas Shirley is being typical Shirley and is casually sat whilst Kat does all the work. As Kat asks her to make more of an effort, Shirley declines and Kat is quick to announce that she's done good when it's come to the robbery plan. Suddenly, a member of staff comes into the office and finds her and Shirley there.

Ian has found his way into the restaurant and appears to be in such dismay he throws a stash of paperwork all over the floor. As he does so, Suki walks in and see the state he's left the restaurant in, as she approaches him, Ian makes it clear to her that he doesn't want her in the restaurant. However, Suki is quick to make a proposition for him, she informs him about her plans for the Slater household and with him being a member of the council, she thinks he can help get her application get the attention she's wanting. In return she will give him £10,000! Ian is left stunned by her offer and tells her that he's actually not to be bought, but in his desperate need for money, will he take her up on her offer? It may just be the only way to get the money he needs to pay people back with. But of course, that would mean even more trouble for Slater's, once they find out that Ian helped Suki with her plan, he'll only have a few more people out to get him! Something tells me this whole situation isn't going to end well for Ian! What do you guys think?!

Back at the Insurance building, Shirley and Kat are in a blind panic as they're trying to get rid of the gentleman that's walked in on them. Shirley pushes Kat to try and get rid of him. They very subtly and quickly leave the man in the room as he appears to get distracted by sirens approaching the building from outside. Downstairs in the parking lot, Phil is frantic for Kush to get the gate open, Ben quickly notifies Kush that the police are approaching and Kush finally realises that he's been putting the code in wrong, finally he manages to put the code in correctly and franticly, Kat and Shirley dash towards the cars as Phil is shouting for them to get going. Kat pleads to Kush to come with them and leave the one car on it's own, but he's adamant he can do it! As Ben and Shirley drive ahead, the police are gathering outside the building, Kush is frantically trying to get his car to start as Kat begs him to just leave it and go with them. Phil shouts at Kat that they need to move quickly before they get nicked, Kat takes one last look at Kush and simply just says "I'm sorry!" before getting in the car with Phil and leaving him behind.

Kush is absolutely stunned that she's just left him to face the police alone. Callum arrives outside and manages to see Ben leave the scene in his car, only when Phil follows in his car, DI Thompson sees him very clearly and instructs his fellow police officers to go after him. He then instructs Callum to go into the parking lot to see if there is anyone else about. Unfortunately Kush is still struggling to get his car to work, Callum comes face-to-face with Kush and tells him to simply exit the car peacefully as police forces are surrounded everywhere, there is no easy way for him to get out of this now. Kush realises he's backed into a corner, he does everything Callum instructs him to do, only he decides to quickly make a run for it! Callum quickly dashes after him and follows him into a room on the third floor of the building. Kush attempts to hide, Callum comes into the room and spots Kush's reflection, however what he does next is a very interesting thing, he informs his boss that Kush actually got away, much to Kush's relief. When Callum shuts the door, making Kush think he's left the room, Kush attempts to make his escape but is surprised to see Callum still standing there. For a moment, I truly did think Callum was going to let Kush go, but instead he insists on arresting him. Kush begs to let him, but when Callum states he can't simply do that, Kush makes one last threat - if Kush is going to be sent down for this burglary, then he's going to make sure that Ben does to!

Ooooooo what is Callum going to do?! Is he going to let Kush off the hook so he can protect Ben? Will the police catch up with Ben and Phil?! What does this mean for Kat and Kush's relationship?! This has been a brilliant episode to watch, really gripping! I don't think I've seen one as gripping as this for a while! I'm really looking forward to finding out what happens next! What are your thoughts on this episode? What do you think will happen next?! I'd love to hear your thoughts, please feel free to comment or message me, I'll always find the time to reply! Thank you so much for reading! I'll be back again very soon to see what the aftermath of this robbery will be! Love you all xXx

#eastenders #kushkazemi #callumhighway #benmitchell #philmitchell #katslater #shirleycarter #tinacarter #kathybeale #ianbeale #suki panesar #maxbranning #lindacarter #sharonwatts #iqraahmed #ashpanesar #bobbybeale

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coldtomyflash · 5 years

Text

Goldfaced Rewrite

Not quite a coda since this branches off partway through Goldfaced (5x13). It plays with the canon timelines somewhat, but keeps mostly to canon while having some fun with it. Technically canon relationships, but written with some coldflash and coldwestallen overtones.

“Sam,” Snart popped the syllable with a droll little smirk. “Always so good to see you.”

“Goldface? The Goldface? He’s got personal hands on the field generator?”

“I told you you wouldn’t like it.”

Barry sighed and dragged his hand down his mouth. “Okay. Okay, let’s just get this over with. Do we have an in?”

“I sweet-talked our way. C’mon.”

He followed Ralph though the booths and crates of weapons, trying not to look too long. He was still thinking about the cop-killer weapons, thinking about Joe being too-often on the front lines. At least it made the scowl on his face real enough; no one was glancing his way too long.

Ralph led him through to a room where music was playing. The lighting and decor shifted, warmer tones, and people were lounging. The market turned social here. It was obvious it was where the ‘real’ business was done.

He didn’t look too long. He couldn’t wait to get out of here.

“Welcome welcome.”

Goldface was charming, well-spoken. He knew what he had in his possession, cutting Ralph off and looking to Barry. Barry looked away. Better to let Ralph do the talking, especially when he was still as mad as he was. His gaze shifted to the left, and he had to work fast to cover the surprise and confusion on his face that he knew was painting it.

It was Snart.

The man was sipping a drink at the bar a few seats down from where Goldface had been, eyes on Barry, curious looking as ever. He cocked an eyebrow at Barry. Barry shook his head imperceptibly.

He barely noticed what else Ralph and Goldface were saying till the criminal’s voice raised fast and angry,

“Shut your mouth!”

Shit. Barry’s heartrate shot up, and stayed that way as Goldface threatened Ralph, more specifically threatened to blow off his arm. The metacuff on Barry’s own wrist tingled, mostly in his imagination. He didn’t dare swallow.

“See here’s the thing... scum recognizes scum. I’m scum, and I’ve survived this long by recognizing the same.”

Barry could already see where this was going. His eyes flitted over to Snart again, already too reminded of the last time he’d tried to pull off the criminal routine, how Lewis Snart hadn’t bought it for a second. Snart was standing now, head tilted, jaw set and alert.

Goldface finishing calling Ralph scum and cycled over to Barry, finally addressing him.

“So, the question is... who are you?”

Ralph tried to vouch for him. Barry raised his hand to shut him up, eyes on Snart. He nodded this time, just as imperceptibly. He saw Snart’s eyes narrow. There was a gun pressed to Barry’s neck and he did swallow this time.

“I’m only gonna ask once more : Who. Are. You.”

“Draycon. That’s how I got my start. You can ask Snart,” he nodded at the man, who quirked an eyebrow.

“Sam,” Snart popped the syllable with a droll little smirk. “Always so good to see you.”

Goldface’s attention shifted between them. “What is it that you do, Sam?”

“Khandaq diamond job. Central City Diamond Reserve. I moved up from there - hit ARGUS a year after that, alien tech. Recently? Central City Museum heist - atomized lorazepam, knocked the guards out, in and out. The Museum’s one of Snart’s favorite targets, missed having him along on that job.”

“That so?” Goldface’s eyes were narrowed now, laser focused on holding Barry’s gaze. Looking for chinks in his armour?

“It is,” Snart cut in. “Didn’t invite me in on the Federal Reserve one last month either.”

“The Acid bomb?” Barry retorted. “Didn’t think it was your style.”

“That was you?” Goldface asked. They definitely had him now.

“It was.” Barry’s voice dropped a little lower, “and if you haven’t heard of me, it’s because I’m a ghost. I keep my name out of jobs and pick who I work with. I use chemistry to keep the pigs off my bag. Even the Heights couldn’t hold me long. Doesn’t tend to when you know a bit of science and meta or two who owes you a favor.”

"Thought you and Shawna weren’t talking to one another?” Snart took a few strolled steps over, joining their little circle finally.

“She owed me one,” Barry picked up the lie with ease. “Owes you one too, if I remember right.”

“She might,” Snart shrugged one shoulder, eyes on Barry. There was a smirk teasing at his lips. Barry could already feel himself relaxing.

“You know I didn’t bring you in on the Reserve heist because I thought you skipped down. Couldn’t track you down when I needed back-up on a transport job a while back.”

“Oh?” Snart laid his fingers casually over the cold gun strapped to his hip. “Last I heard you found yourself a replacement for me just fine.”

It was a dig, but Barry let himself grin just a little in response, digging right back, copying Snart’s inflection. “Replace you? My team could never.”

"Alright enough,” Goldface cut in, and Barry shifted his attention back, standing up a bit straighter. He caught Ralph sending him a weird look. “Wha’ do I call you? Sam?”

“The Chemist.”

The gun was off his neck and Barry straightened his jacket. Ralph’s expression was still in need of schooling but the man caught himself quick and cleared his throat, addressing Goldface.

“So uh, we back in business?”

“With a twist.” Goldface moved casually over to what looked like a throne. Snart fell into step next to Barry. “Got a big job tonight. Hired Snart to plan it - I want it to go right, and well, you know how anal he can be. Could use a guy like The Chemist on our side. Cover our tracks. Since you two are such pals.”

He glanced at Snart, who titled his head. “Keith.”

“Goldface.”

Snart rolled his eyes. “Goldface. i work with a skeleton crew and a plan. The team is already bloated.”

“So you keep telling me. Drop the two you like the least and bring these ones on board. Unless you have an objection?”

Snart caught Barry’s gaze. Barry’s eyes hardened.

“What’s our target?”

[ ... ]

“Okay, so when was I going to learn that you and Captain Cold are flirting frenemies?”

“What? We’re not... no. Didn’t you know?”

“Know what?”

“He’s a - I don’t know. Ally? Sometimes. Or, well he was an enemy, but not really, well... he did betray us that one time, but then he went and died, and then the timeline changed thanks to the Legion of Doom so he didn’t really remember dying. I do, though, remember him dying, so do the Legends - “

“The Legion of what? The Legends? Why do the Legends -”

“Didn’t you know Snart was a Legend - “

“He was what?” Ralph hissed.

“Heatwave is too. You know Mick is Heatwave?”

Ralph’s expression indicated that no, he had not known that.

“How come I never know any of this stuff? Ever?”

Barry really wished that just for one day, Ralph could experience being friends with Ralph. “I dunno, man, it was a different timeline and I can’t keep track of who remembers what anymore. There’s a file on him somewhere but there’s a lot going on. Point is - he’s kind of on our side some days, but doesn’t remember some of being on our side, I think? He knows he died being good though so he’s been on an evil kick since he came back from the dead timeline.”

Ralph’s expression was telling Barry exactly how much sense he was making. Barry clapped him on the shoulder.

“Yeah.”

"So can we trust him?”

“Trust? Don’t push it,” that was Snart’s voice, cutting in and coming up to join them. “A new stray on your team.”

“This is Ralph. He’s... yeah, one of us.”

Snart eyed him, then turned back to Barry. “We roll out in five.”

He nodded, becoming more sombre again. Their target was a 3D printer for organs. It should be in a hospital, saving lives - and they were going to steal it before it ever got there.

“You sure you’re up for this, Barry?”

He almost flinched at his real name, at how personal the question felt.

“Stealing from a hospital...”

He squared his jaw. “I can handle it.”

“You had better. I don’t want any surprises.”

“How can you be okay with this, Snart?” he took a step forward, and would’ve cursed his own emotions for getting the better of him except that would mean stopping to contemplate those emotions and that was the last thing he wanted to do. “This printer could save lives.”

Snart stepped in just as close. “It will save lives, Barry.”

“For the highest bidder.”

“What exactly do you think our healthcare system is? Hmm?” He paused just long enough before he went for the kill. “Insurance companies are positively criminal. Consider this some wealth equalization.”

Barry swallowed around the anger in his throat, knots along his shoulders from reigning in his anger. Snart tilted his head, voice lowering.

“Besides - you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t need that field generator for something. I could remind you of all the lives I’m sure you plan to save and whatever your bigger picture is, but let’s skip ahead to the part where we agree to play nice for the evening, hm?”

A memory swam up, unbidden. He could almost taste the blood that had accompanied it at the time, lying on the tarmac at Ferris Air with Snart leaning over him, who you’re really mad at is yourself. This is on you, Barry.

If he hadn’t let himself get distracted, if he hadn’t focused on a weapons deal instead of the field generator, he wouldn’t need to ride shot-gun on a heist with Snart that was making his stomach turn.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

The man nodded, and turned. He paused, looking back over his shoulder. “Oh and Barry? Don’t make me throw away the plan.”

[ ... ]

The job really did have more people than it should need. Snart normally worked with 2-3 others max, but Goldface had sent them in with a full weaponized crew. Barry couldn’t figure out for what, really, with the building barely secured and with codes and passcards made up for every crew member. Belatedly, slipping through guard-less halls, it occurred to him it was probably for him - the Flash.

No wonder Snart hadn’t argued harder about having him along on this job.

Ralph kept shooting him glances. Snart hadn’t left his side. The whole night was shaping up just peachy. But they made it to the printer without difficulty.

Ralph whistled from across the room, pointing down at a packaged crate. Barry and Snart hurried over.

“Like candy from a baby,” Snart murmured, glancing it over.

Barry scowled at him. “How are we getting it out of here?”

“Unwrap, repack.”

Barry squatted down to help. Ralph cleared his throat.

“What?”

He was flipping through some documentation that had been sitting on top of the crate. “Barry, I...”

Barry stood and snatched the documents. He could feel Snart’s eyes on him.

Shit.

He closed his eyes. He couldn’t see this.

“Barry...”

“They’re kids, Snart.”

“We had a deal.”

“This baby is 4 months old and needs new lungs. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

Snart grit his teeth. Barry took a step toward him, mindful of the way his eyes flashed dangerously.

“I know you’re not made of ice.”

“Careful.”

Barry waited. Snart did too. It didn’t last long. The man went from solid stone to graceful movement in a second, and for a fraction of it Barry thought he might shoot, but he was just turning, dramatic as he rolled his body to express his long-suffering torment at having Barry in his life.

“You’re going to ruin my reputation. I have to work with these people in the future.”

“Wouldn’t this be more like taking out the competition?”

“Because that worked so well with Amunet.”

“You scared Amunet out of town?” So that’s why she hadn’t come back yet.

“Don’t tell Goldface. Long-distance didn’t work out so well for the lovers.”

Barry laughed. “Then you can’t pretend not to be intrigued. You always did like a challenge. Or don’t you want to rule this city?”

The grin Snart flashed him was definitely a genuine reaction, smothered out into something more dangerous and threatening quickly. Barry grinned in response and put out his arm.

“Mind helping with this cuff?”

Snart sized him up with a final sigh. “You owe me. Again.”

“And you love me owing you. One of these days I might even deliver.”

[ ... ]

“Iris, you know I love you and Barry.”

She glanced at Ralph, perturbed as ever when he said something declarative like that. It always preceded the most random and bizarre conversations.

“Uh... huh.”

“Right, so what I’m about to say is in the interest of protecting your relationship.”

“Oh boy.” She closed her notebook. No way she was going to be able to focus until Ralph had finished pulling whatever thread this was.

“So - Captain Cold.”

“Okay, do we need to break out the Bailey’s for this conversation?”

“You have Bailey’s?”

She rolled her eyes and moved across the coffee area to the freezer. “What do you take me for?”

He held out his mug and she poured them both a generous amount.

“Okay, Captain Cold. He helped you and Barry stop Goldface from getting that organ printer, right?”

“Right. The thing is... I just wanted to make sure you know - I think he’s kind of got a ... crush? On your husband? And I’m not sure if Barry knows but - “

Iris burst out laughing. This? Really? “But he flirts like a teenage girl at prom every time Snart bats his eyelashes in his direction?”

“Wait you know?”

“I’ve had to work with them too you know. Drives my dad bananas.”

Ralph laughed too at the impression she pulled of her father’s wide, angry, confused eyes whenever Snart started getting too close and insinuating with Barry.

“Okay, so you know. That’s good. I was worried.”

“I could tell. I thought you were about to drop something serious on me.”

“Well I wasn’t gonna say anything, but then the field-static...spastic - “

“Neuro-stasis field generator?”

“Yes, that! When that showed up in the cortex this morning...”

“Snart’s courtship is a strange one.”

“You’re not... threatened by it?”

“How could I be, when Snart flirts just as much with me?” She paused, then leaned forward, elbows dropping to the table, voice slipping to an appropriately conspiratorial volume. “Just between you and me? Me ‘n Barry are just waiting for the day Snart realizes all he has to do is ask us nicely.”

The flummoxed expression from Ralph was definitely worth the interruption to her work.

#coldflash #coldwestallen #just overtones nothing overt for either ship #my writing #redhead vs. writing #tumblr drabbles #episode coda #episode rewrite #goldfaced #the flash 5x13 #long post #long post for ts #enjoy #not proofread #will proofread when it eventually goes up on my ao3 codas anthology

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