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dameronscopilot · 1 year

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Can I request a jealous Santiago Garcia headcanon?

Jealous Santiago Garcia

Santiago "Pope" Garcia x f!reader

When you and Santiago started sleeping together sometime after your friendship with the boys commenced, he made it abundantly clear that he wanted it to be casual. Recently back in Florida after an extended stint overseas with far too much mental baggage, he outright told you he wasn’t fit for a relationship. Not the kind you deserved, anyway. So you let yourself play a dangerous game with him, consequences be damned.

As time goes on, the two of you continue to dance around one another—friends by day, a needy, sweaty mess in the sheets by night. It grows harder to continue to stamp your feelings down the more times that you tangle your fingers into Santi’s greying curls as he kisses you squarely on the mouth, but unbeknownst to you, he’s struggling, too. And while he may resolutely keep his lips sealed, Santiago’s jealousy begins to find a way to slip through the cracks anyway, bit by bit.

Content: NSFW 18+, smut, p in v, oral sex (f!receiving), FEELS

The first time it happens, you don’t think too much of it. A particularly rowdy night at the bar finds you in Benny’s arms on the dance floor, and given his lack of awareness of what exactly goes on between you and his best friend behind closed doors, his hands skirt the boundary of indecency as he chuckles and playfully brushes his nose against your neck.

Afterward, Santiago insists on driving you home, but you only make it to the bar’s parking lot before his hands find a familiar home around your waist, and his lips track their favorite well-worn path across your collarbone. There’s an impatient, slightly frantic edge to it all, the way he can’t even wait to get you to your apartment, choosing instead to fuck you right there in the backseat of his truck, gripping your hips like his life depends on it as he drives his shaft into you.

Try as you might, Santi has always turned down your invitations to come along to the local farmer’s market on Saturday mornings. However, when he hears Frankie insisting that the friendly vendor that gives you a free flower every week is probably at least a little bit in love with you, Santiago’s suddenly ready to come along bright and early the following weekend. And when Frankie elbows you with a chuckle when the florist’s booth comes into view, Santi’s wallet is already in his hands as he strides over and makes a show of buying you a bouquet of sunflowers.

Later, when Will, Frankie, and Benny all decide to call it a night after having dinner at your place, Santi’s thrown off by the way your phone’s lock screen lights up with an array of messages from a dating app (which you’d recently downloaded for the sole purpose of a distraction from him). Santi doesn’t say anything about it, but he does cage you in against the sink while you’re washing the dishes. He presses a trail of hot kisses across the back of your neck before sliding up the skirt of your dress, gently kicking your legs apart and licking his way into your sensitive folds until you’re a sopping, trembling mess for him.

One evening, as Santi’s in the midst of slipping out of your bed to head home after you’re both panting and sated, he casually asks you to have dinner the next day. You’re borderline embarrassed to tell him that you have a date with a guy from work who’s been trying to ask you out for ages. When you return home alone after said lackluster outing, you pause when you spy Santi’s jacket still hanging on the hook in your entryway. Like a fucking statement. Meanwhile, the soft, black cotton t-shirt he’d been wearing under his button down the night before still lies “forgotten” on the floor on his side of the bed. (Since when did he have his own side?)

When the time for your work’s holiday party rolls around, you wave your phone around to show the boys the plus one tacked onto the email invite. And though Benny ultimately wins the impromptu pool tournament that ensues to secure the spot (fuelled by the promise of very fancy food), unbeknownst to you, Santi later bargains his way in instead—by way of a ludicrous amount of favors to be owed to Benny, of course.

Failed date or not, your coworker still has eyes for you at the party. Eyes that certainly don’t miss Santi’s lingering hand on your waist throughout the evening. Said man makes the bold decision to slide into Santi’s vacated seat to chat with you while he saunters off to the bar to grab drinks. And yet, despite the fact that you’d introduced Santiago as your “friend” to your coworkers when dinner began, the title doesn’t quite roll off the tongue as well when you then find his cock plunging deep inside of your cunt as he fucks you in a bathroom stall before dessert’s even been served, drinks long forgotten back at the table.

Santi fucks you again when you get back to your place, but it's different. It’s unhurried. It’s soft. It's vulnerable. It’s more goddamn intimate than it's ever been—the way he gazes down at you as he breaches your entrance, the way he brushes his thumb across the curve of your jaw, the way his mouth desperately seeks out yours as his hips begin to stutter…the way he whispers cariño as he presses a kiss to the top of your head when he thinks you’re already asleep.

(It’s the first time he’s ever spent the night.)

The next morning, you’re disappointed to find yourself alone in bed...until Santiago makes his way back from the bathroom a moment later, and he doesn’t miss the look in your eyes as you glance over at him—the relief, the longing, the hope; it’s mirrored on his own face as well.

“You stayed.”

“I’m tired of pretending that I want to leave.”

“So don’t.”

And after he crawls back under the covers, back to you, Santiago holds you tightly in his arms as he finally admits to himself that there's nowhere else he'd rather be.

—

Comments, reblogs, and/or asks are always appreciated!

» OSCAR ISAAC MASTERLIST » SANTIAGO GARCIA MASTERLIST

#answers from the cockpit #santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia smut #santiago garcia x reader #oscar isaac fanfiction #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #dee writes

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triviareads · 5 months

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so I was worried about what constituted a spoiler for my review of Mafia Virgin by Mila Finelli (here's my spoiler free review) so in honor of pub day, here's a compilation of all my notes:

Your benchmark for the Emma/Buscetta dynamic is Cross/Pippa from One Good Earl Deserves a Lover by Sarah MacLean (complete with some similar language to Pippa's "I'm fascinated by your BONES" except make it foreskin), except Giacomo isn't trying to be celibate in the least, and after he gets over his obligatory 10 seconds of guilt for wanting to fuck a 20 year old virgin (a precedent set by Fausto and utterly disregarded by Enzo lolol), he's all over Emma

So what I'm also saying is, as far as mafia romances go, this isn't super intense or out there. It's definitely not a dark romance despite how it was marketed (and a big part honestly is Giacomo is too nice), BUT it's a decent mafia romance and the sex stuff is equally solid.

The real horror, if there is any, is the classic mafia thing where it's the modern world and yet she's expected to get pregnant on an extremely short timeline; also possibly a commentary on the state of our reproductive rights?

Speaking of sex stuff— I thought it was hysterical that Giacomo actually chose to consult with a (mob) doctor on how to get his wife pregnant, and if Emma actually wanted that to begin with, I would appreciate it even more. Said doctor also tells Giacomo in the babylogue that sex can induce labor so you know what that means

Also I couldn't say it in my review but this...... was the hottest passage of Mafia Virgin. I hate to say it (actually who am i kidding i don't) but it's this not only because of the novelty but it ties excellently into their mutual breeding kink and Giacomo very early on being sad about the lack of women in his life who played with his balls:

Second hottest was prob when he came in his pants after eating her out. The thing about Giacomo is that he has a few flop moments in a way that's still hot but also really funny (see: when his ex-ish mistress REJECTED him the second she found out he has a wife; like, Katarzyna and Mariella would NEVER) especially compared to Fausto, Enzo, and Giulio (well, Giulio has his own flop moments but they're mostly business related)

Also, I think everything about this exchange is just great and Giacomo is valid when he's annoyedly like "this is a me thing :/ "

On a more random note, you can't tell me Giacomo Buscetta isn't an ally even if he is deeply unimpressed by nepo bby mafioso Giulio (who is now in charge of Málaga? lol) because he tells Giulio's assassin bf Alessio he's a fan of his work

The redemption arc I neither needed nor wanted was Roberto Mancini's— this is the man who inspired a great deal of (super valid) daddy issues in both Frankie and Gia, and you're telling me he's actually a doting dad (to Emma at least)?? I want to call bullshit. Yes, parental relationships are complicated and can vary by sibling and I totally understand why Frankie and Gia are estranged from him so why...... did we need this arbitrary redemption in book 5? And it's to the point where Roberto actually is like, "oh I never told your mom to give up her career after she married; she chose to!" and to me that invalidates so much of Frankie's conflict in the first book when she really wants to go to college and fulfil her mom's dream of having an independent career when her mother couldn't, but she's forced into an arranged marriage by her father who also disowns her once the news gets out that she's Fausto's mistress.

Anyway, I'm hoping there's a pegging bonus scene. Also, we WERE teased about potential period sex stuff which also never happened :(

#mila finelli #mafia romance

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honey-dewey · 3 years

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Our Small Slice of Paradise

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/Reader

Word Count: 1,696

Warnings: None, this is pure fluff.

Four years and one child later, Frankie is a whole new man. He’s a wonderful father, a diligent working man, a kind soul, and a beautiful husband. He’s had his fight and his struggle, and now he has earned his small slice of paradise.

“Frankie!” You called through the house, directing your yells towards the garage door. “Frankie! It’s dinner time!”

“Huh?” Frankie poked his head in from the garage, genuinely looking shocked. His daughter was across his chest, dead asleep. “What’s up?”

You smiled. “It’s dinner. Tell the boys to come inside.”

Frankie turned red. “How do you know they’re out here?”

“Because I could hear Benny through the walls.”

All four boys and Nessa came in, Nessa incredibly upset that she couldn’t sit in Frankie’s lap throughout dinner.

“Baby,” you grabbed her hands as she flailed in her high chair. “Baby! You can sit on daddy’s lap after dinner. But he has to eat too.”

Nessa pouted, crossing her arms. “Want daddy!”

Santiago snorted. “Wonder where she gets that attitude from.”

“Watch your mouth Pope, or you won’t be invited back.”

At your threat, Santiago wisely shut his mouth.

Eventually, Nessa calmed enough for you to serve dinner, earning you praise from everyone at the table.

“Delicious as always,” Benny said happily, taking a rather large bite. “Damn Fish, you really got a good one.”

Frankie leaned over and kissed your cheek, garnering childish groans from the table. “Yeah, I did.”

Once dinner was over, Nessa loudly insisted upon sitting with Frankie, so you all headed out back, where William set up the fire pit and went to grab a couple beers.

“So,” Santiago said, gesturing to you and Frankie with his beer bottle. “When is the family expanding again? We have bets, you know!”

Frankie laughed, gazing at you with loving eyes. “I dunno babe, should we have another baby?”

“With these boys?” You said, raising your eyebrows and looking at the three boys sitting across from you. “I’ve got my hands full enough. I swear, your friends are like teenagers.”

“Oh no.” Santiago shook his head. “You know nothing about our lovely Fransisco when he was a teenager.”

“Oh?” You leaned closer to Santiago. “Explain.”

Immediately, Santiago launched into a long and hilarious story about how Frankie earned his beloved nickname. Best you could tell between the laughter and the yelling, Frankie had gone on a road trip with Santiago before they’d joined the military, and they’d stopped in Louisiana. They’d gone swimming in a river, and poor Frankie had been bit not once but twice by a catfish.

“Well excuse you, those fuckers hurt!” Frankie argued once Santiago had finished.

You smiled. “Pope, where did the fish bite him?”

Santiago grinned a rather telling grin. “The first one got his foot.”

Benny, who was doubled over with laughter, sat up with wide eyes. “No,” he said dramatically. “You did not get bit in the dick by a catfish.”

“Have you never heard this story?” William asked, also breathless from laughter. “Pope told it at least twice on our road trip.”

“I was asleep for most of that.”

You leaned back, smiling at the boys. It was hard to imagine them as anything other than best friends.

“I’m gonna go put Nessa to bed,” Frankie said softly to you once his watch had hit 9. “Is the spare room set up?”

“Yeah,” you said, setting down your bottle or ginger beer and holding out your arms. “You stay with the boys. I’ll take Nessa.”

Frankie smiled, kissing you and passing Nessa into your arms. Benny and Santiago wolf whistled, but you ignored them in favor of carrying your daughter to bed.

Once she was situated and had been properly kissed good-night, you trailed back out to the yard, grabbing s’mores materials on your way.

“What in the fuck?” You said, standing in the doorway out to the backyard and just watching. Benny and William were wrestling while Frankie and Santiago were making bets, cheering the other two boys on.

Immediately, Benny sat up, smiling childishly at you. “Hey! Welcome back!”

You raised an eyebrow. “Get off the ground Benny. And William, I expected better from you!”

Both boys chorused out apologies, and you nodded. “Thank you. Now, who wants s’mores?”

Immediately, all four boys leapt upon you, eagerly taking the s’mores materials from you. Frankie dug out the s’mores sticks the pair of you had and you had to stop a joust between Santiago and Benny.

“Damn!” Santiago said, waving a flaming marshmallow around. “Fucking burnt it.”

“Oh! Dibs!” William said, reaching out. “I like mine burnt.”

“You disgust me.” Frankie smooshed his own lightly toasted marshmallow between two graham crackers and a piece of chocolate.

Benny shrugged. “I like mine more toasted than that,” he said, taking chocolate from you. “Pope doesn’t even fucking toast his!”

“Oh it is on!”

You sighed, not even bothering to do anything as the boys began to wrestle. Again. Frankie got pulled into the mess when Santiago shoved a warm marshmallow into his back. William, who genuinely tried to stay out of it, was literally pulled into it when Frankie grabbed him and used him as a human shield.

Leaning back into your chair, you munched on your s’more, watching the boys fight. It was good to see them happy, especially with how much they’d been through. They deserved to be at ease, not worried about some huge looming threat.

“You’re out of ammo,” you eventually pointed out once the fighting had reached fifteen minutes, nudging the empty marshmallow bag. “And you’re messes.”

Santiago untangled himself, sitting up and grunting as he rolled Frankie off his legs. “I’m sticky.”

“You’re all sticky.” You stood, heading towards the hose. “C’mon, let’s get you all cleaned off.”

It took some finagling, but with the right pressure setting and a good amount of scrubbing with the rough side of a kitchen sponge and some heavy duty dish soap, all four boys were mostly clean. You carried the pile of ruined clothes to the laundry room, hoping you could wash them tomorrow. In the mean time, something else had to be done.

“Who’s first?” You asked, heading back outside with a small bucket of hair care supplies.

Everyone pointed to Benny except for Benny. He pointed to William, groaning when he realized he had to go first. “Why me?”

“You’re youngest,” Santiago said, putting another log in the fire pit.

Benny grumbled, but sat in the chair you stood behind, waiting for the pull of the comb as you attempted to remove the smeared in bits of marshmallow and chocolate.

You were much gentler than he expected, using some old tricks and a warm washcloth to get the smaller chunks. The bigger ones needed more convincing, and you did have to cut a particularly stubborn chunk out, but it was a mostly smooth operation.

After Benny, it was William, who had less in his hair that needed to be slowly massaged out.

The brothers nodded to you once William was done, trailing into the house and to the guest room.

Santiago needed more time than Benny, softly chatting to Frankie as you worked on his hair, eventually seeming him clean once his shoulders were damp from the warm washcloth and small marshmallow coated snippets of his hair littered the ground.

“Well,” he said, standing and stretching. “I’ll leave you two crazy kids out here alone. Do not fuck each other, please. The walls are thin and I do not need to hear my best friend and his wife going at it in the backyard.”

You gave him a good night, and Frankie gave him a middle finger as Santiago headed inside to pass out on the couch, as he usually did when he spent the night.

“Come here mister,” you said, gesturing Frankie closer. “You’re a hot fucking mess.”

Frankie smiled as he sat down, relaxing under your careful hands. “Mhm. You love me anyway.”

“Not like this,” you said, tugging at one of the marshmallow chunks caked into his hair. “I dunno how much I can save Frankie.”

“That’s fine,” Frankie promised. “I’m overdue anyway.”

You smiled, spinning the kitchen scissors on your index finger. “Yeah, you kinda are.”

By the time Frankie was free of the marshmallow and the chocolate, it was nearing 11, and Frankie was having a hard time keeping his eyes open.

“Done,” you said softly, ruffling through his hair and dusting off his shoulders. “C’mon, let’s get to bed.”

Frankie followed after you sleepily, watching through half lidded eyes as you put the kitchen scissors back in their drawer, tossed the dirty washcloth in the laundry, and pushed open your bedroom door.

“I love you,” Frankie said abruptly, shocking you out of your rhythmic actions. You’d been in the process of getting dressed for bed, your day shirt on the floor and your sleep pants halfway pulled up.

“What?”

“I love you,” Frankie repeated, and there was so much sincerity in his voice that you almost cried.

“Frankie.” You walked over to him, still shirtless. “Babe, you’re exhausted.”

Frankie nodded, letting you take his shirt off. “Yeah, but I still love you,” he murmured, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist and holding you close to him.

You smiled, trailing your arms over his neck, threading your hands through his newly trimmed hair as he bowed his head to your shoulder. “I love you too Francisco.”

The pair of you stayed like that, holding each other in the moonlight, half naked, until Frankie untangled himself from your arms and tugged you gently to the bed. You fell beside him, rolled into your side so you were facing him.

“Hello handsome,” you said with a grin, kissing Frankie’s nose. “Wanna get married?”

Frankie smiled, poking your cheeks one at a time and causing you to giggle. “I dunno, I got this wife at home, and I think she’s a real keeper.”

You curled closer to Frankie’s chest, reveling in the warmth he provided. “Well damn. Why don’t you kiss her for me?” Your voice grew softer with each word as the night’s antics caught up to you.

Frankie kissed the top of your head, feeling your breaths even out as you fell asleep. “I love you,” he whispered one more time, feeling his own eyes close as he too slipped away into the peace of sleep beside you.

#triple frontier #frankie morales #francisco 'catfish' morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #my writing #pedro pascal

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thoushallnotfall · 4 years

Text

God Bless the Children of the Beast - Part 1

Masterlist

Pairing: The Dirt!Tommy Lee x Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Notes: Back at it again at Krispy Kreme. ✌️ Okay so I’m a freaking masochist and apparently couldn’t write unless it was starting another long ass series? I guess?? (Press f to pay respects) Sorry it’s for a whole different fandom, but for my followers I’ll still be writing for The Lost Boys I promise! 🥺

If you read my last series and this set-up seems familiar congratulations! You caught me! I really enjoy writing sibling relationships and exploring the complex dynamics in different family settings! So sue me. (It’s also just an easy way to to fit the reader into the story, and it works really well in this case. I can’t help it!)

Also, I know the movie doesn’t follow their lives 100% accurately, but I’m basing this on the movie characters, not the real life Motley Crue.

Y/B/N = Your birth name. Like Nikkie, the reader changes her name when he does. 👍

Warning: Technically a very brief self harm at the beginning (it’s in the movie), and for this fic as a whole there will eventually have mention of abuse, assault, heavy drug use, alcohol abuse, and panic attacks so be forewarned. It’s Motley Crue, it was never gonna be PG, but it will get much darker than my usual stuff so just be aware.

1973

Frankie smiles at you as he pulls over the tonearm of the record player, T. Rex’s “Solid Gold Easy Action” instantly blaring to life from the speakers. He punches his fists in the air in time with the singer’s shouts, playing along on his new guitar. You smile up at him from your place on his bed, banging your head along with the music just like he does. You hear your mother bang on the door, telling him to turn the music down. Your fall on your side laughing as your brother flips off the door, before cranking the volume up.

Your mother bursts in the room, marching past your brother to remove the tonearm from the record player.

“What’s that?” She ask as she points to Frankie’s new guitar. Her voice was angry and slurred from who knows how many drinks, including the one still in her hand.

“What’s it look like?” Frankie shoots back.

“It’s just a guitar mom.” You reply, hoping to defuse the situation.

“No shit y/b/n, I’m not fucking stupid.” She snaps at you. You wilt under her burning gaze. She looks back at Frankie “Where’d you get it?”

“He probably stole it.” A man you had never seen before leaned against your mother, eyeing your brother with contempt.

“Who the fuck is this guy?” Frank asks, glaring back at the man.

“You think I don’t know where you got all this shit?” Your mother spat, picking up one of Frankie’s records and throwing it. You flinch away from the action on instinct even from your seat on the bed.

“So you noticed something I did, for once.” Frankie snaps.

“Don’t you talk to your mother like that you little prick.” The stranger says, looking high as a kite.

“Seriously who the fuck are you?” Frankie asks. Before the man can respond, Frankie cuts him off, “You know what? I don’t even care. Gonna be another you tomorrow anyways.”

The guy rolls his eyes at Frankie, heading towards the door. Your mother and brother are too busy arguing to notice the long, pointed stare he gives you as he stands in the doorway. You pull your legs up, hugging your knees against you chest as you feel a shiver run down your spine.

“You wanna know who this is? He’s another man in my life that you’re gonna drive away. Just like you did your fucking father, and y/b/n’s father.” Your mom says, every word dripping with venom.

“I was two years old you bitch! He left you!” Frankie shouts back. You look out over your knees, tears welling up in your eyes as they dart back and forth between the two of them.

“Then how come he never tried to call you then Frankie?” She says calmly, leaning down to smooth back a piece of his hair.

“Fuck you!” Frankie screams, taking off his guitar and smashing it against the wall. “Get the fuck out of here!” He yells, slamming the door in her face.

He begins wrecking his room in a fit of rage. You sit on his bed, tears spilling down cheeks. You hear your mother shouting as she bangs on the door, demanding to be let in. Frankie looks over at you, hatred still clear in his eyes. Seeing your tears, he stops. A look of guilt spreads across his face, before it’s quickly replaced by one of determination. He comes over to kneel in front of you.

“It’s gonna be okay y/b/n.” He says, giving you a quick hug. You lean into his shoulder, holding him like your life depends on it before you’re forced to let him go. “Now, get off the bed.” He orders. You sniffle, trying to pull yourself together and act brave. If Frankie says it would be okay, than it would be.

You wipe your face on your sleeve and stand. Frankie flips the mattress, revealing a switchblade hidden between the mattress and box spring. Your eyes widened.

“Frankie?” Your voice was small and shaky.

“I’m getting us the Hell out of here.” He says, looking back at you, eyes filled with resolve.

“Wha-” Before you have the chance to ask, he’s flung open the door, switchblade out. Your mother looks on horror as he digs the knife deep into his own arm.

—

You hold Frankie’s free hand as you watch the paramedics place the bandage on his freshly stitched arm. You sob quietly, and he squeezes your hand tighter and stares into the kitchen, silently assuring you it’s alright. You hear your mother’s voice as she argues with the officers, but you don’t look at her, never taking your eyes off Frankie.

Now that your brother was all patched up, an officer approaches you to speak.

“So, you’re sticking to your story: She attacked you with a knife.” The officer asks Frankie, clearly not convinced.

“Yup.” Frankie replies, not looking up at the officer.

“And you y/b/n? You saw this too?” The officer asked you. Frankie finally glances away from your mother to give you a stern look. You’re scared to lie to the police, but if Frankie is saying it, you know you should too.

“Yeah, that’s what happened.” You confirm. Frankie smiles at you, giving your hand another squeeze under the table where the officer can’t see, before turning back to stare at your mother. The officer sighs, sitting down.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen kids. If we take her away the state is gonna put you two in a juvenal home until Frankie’s 18. Is that what you want?” She asks. The silence stretches on, you look over at Frankie.

You’ll do whatever Frankie thinks is best. Frankie always knows the right thing to do.

—

“I’m gonna give you a moment with your kids, so behave yourself.” The officer says, dragging your mother out in handcuffs to sit next to you as you huddled next to Frankie on the couch. As soon as the three of you are alone, she starts in on the two of you.

“Come on, why are you two doing this? I’m your mother!” She pleads.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Frankie says, shooting up, pulling you up along with him. You clung to his side, your hand in his as he glares daggers at your mother. “We wanted a mom, but you only care about yourself and all of your stupid boyfriends!”

“Listen to me–” She begs.

“No you listen to me okay? We’re not gonna see you, we’re not gonna answer to you. You’re just gonna leave us alone, Deanna.” The ice in his voice when he said your mother’s name sent a chill down your spine. He turns, leading you away towards his room.

“Kids?” Your mother’s voice had never sounded so small. Frankie stopped, turning to look at her. “Fine. Do what you want.” She said, voice void of emotion. The two of you looked at her, sitting there handcuffed on the couch, and you realize it may be the last time you ever see her.

You didn’t want to feel sad–you shouldn’t feel sad, she didn’t deserve that–but a part of you did. You couldn’t help it. Frankie would say it too later, you just wanted her to love you, and no matter how much that never happened, there was always some stupid small part of you that still tried to love her. She was the worst part of your life and she didn’t deserve any of your love, not even the sliver she got; but something in your biology was still there telling you to reach out to her now despite everything she’d done.

Of course, you knew better than that.

Because no matter what had happened, the only person who had always been there for you was Frankie. Your brother was the only person on the planet you truly cared about, and who actually gave a damn about you. He was the only person you could trust. You were young, but you learned early you can’t trust anyone in this world. And you didn’t. Except Frankie.

Frankie would make a promise that day to look out for you no matter what. It’s something he’d always done anyway; he was your big brother, and growing up the way you did he felt it was his job to take care if you. You knew he felt guilty, because he hadn’t always been able to protect you from your mom or her boyfriend’s. But things were about to change, and for better or worse he wanted you to know he’d keep you safe, regardless of where the two of you might end up.

But it was always the two of you against the world, so you promised to look out for him too. You were a team: you would take care of each other, until the bitter end.

—

1981

You sat in the small diner booth, back to the wall with you legs drapped over Nikki’s lap as you held his chin firmly in one hand. Turning Nikki’s face towards you, you use your free hand to dab a napkin under his bloody nose.

“Ow, fuck y/n!” He whines, trying to pull his head away. You smirk.

“Stop being such a fucking baby Nikki.” You laugh.

“Hey that was badass dude.” A tall, lanky boy in leopard print pants comes up to you, looking at Nikki like an excited puppy. You let go of Nikki’s chin and the two of you give the boy matching stares. “The show not the nose, but that was pretty badass too.” He adds with a wide smile.

“The singer’s an asshole.” Nikki says taking the napkin from your hand to put under his nose.

“That’s the understatement of the century.” You scoff.

“I know I saw, but hey fuck him he deserved it.” The guy says, eager to agree with Nikki. He must be a fan, you think. “I got your poster on my bedroom wall.” The boy blurts out, almost as if spurred on by your last thought.

You instantly start cracking up, throwing your arms around Nikki’s shoulders as you laugh.

“Oh Nikki,” You say as you cackle, “Looks like you’ve got a fan.”

The boy’s cheeks flush bright pink under his chestnut locks.

“I can’t believe I just said that.” He mumbles to himself as he looks away from you. You almost felt mean teasing the older boy; he seemed sweet, if not a little dumb. But he looked like he could handle it; surely if he’s walking around wearing those pants, he could handle a little criticism.

“Take the fucking poster down man, London’s over.” Nikki said, not in the mood for your games.

“Anything else I can get you?” Dottie asks.

“Could you get me a Jack and Coke?” Nikki asks with a smirk, knowing full well that wasn’t on the menu.

“I’ll have french toast please Dottie, thank you.” You say leaning back in the booth as you smile up at her.

“And for you hun?” She asks the guy who’s made himself comfortable sitting across from you at the other side of the booth.

“Blueberry pancakes, please.” He asks her politely.

“My new band is gonna be something no one has ever fucking seen before.” Nikki says, looking through ads in the Recycler.

“Oh, that one looks fun!” You say, pointing to one with a smirk.

Loud rude aggressive lead guitarist sks working band. Xlnt equip, record credit and vocal ability- Call Mick. 555-0121

Nikki circles the ad in red marker.

“Yeah, that dude looks pretty cool.” The new guy agrees, pointing with his drumstick.

“Do you carry those with you everywhere?” Nikki asks, looking at the drumstick.

“Yeah!” He answers enthusiastically, spinning the drumstick around in his fingers.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” You ask, watching him twirl the drumstick with ease in his long, nimble fingers. He stops.

“High School marching band.” He says, looking down; clearly embarrassed by his answer. He quickly looks back up. “But hey, I rock too!” Just then, Dottie comes up with Nikki’s Jack and Coke.

“Thank you Dottie.” Nikki says sweetly.

“Only for you.” She replies with a wink. You take the Coke as Nikki goes straight for the mini bottle of Jack Daniels. He opens the lid and shoots the whole thing in one go, staring the new guy down.

“Wow.” He says, watching Nikki shoot the Jack Daniels. Nikki watches the guy spin his drumstick, a smirk spreads across his face. Oh, I know that look.

“What’s your name?” Nikki ask.

“Tommy. Tommy Bass.” He says, sticking out his hand to Nikki. You suppress a laugh as Nikki stares at his outstretched hand. He finally decided to takes Tommy’s hand, shaking it firmly.

“Nikki Sixx.” He introduces himself, though it’s obvious Tommy already knows who he is. “And this is my little sister, y/n Sixx.” He says, tilting his head in your direction.

“Hey.” You smile at him.

“Wait, she’s your sister? I thought she was, uh-” He stammers.

“Gross, get your mind right Bass.” You say, rolling your eyes and throwing a handful of sugar packets at him. “Might want to work on that name by the way; doesn’t exactly scream Rock and Roll, does it?” You add, taking a long drink from your Coke.

“Fuck you’re mean.” He says with a laugh. “Is she always this mean?”

“Yes.” Nikki replies, smirking.

“It’s been brought to my attention.” You shrug. “Personally I don’t see the problem.” Nikki scoffs.

“You wouldn’t.” He jokes, and you respond by punching his bicep. He laughs, because of course it didn’t hurt him, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“Anyway Tommy, you say you can rock?” Nikki asks, looking back at the drummer.

“Yeah man!” The tall boy perks up, spinning the stick in his fingers so fast you think it might take off.

“Why don’t you show me what you can do?” Nikki asks.

“What, like an audition?” Tommy asks, eyes gleaming.

“Tomorrow, our place. You bring your kit. Show me what you got and maybe I’ll let you be my drummer; sound good?” He offers.

“Hell yeah dude!” Tommy exclaims. “Oh dude you are not gonna regret this, I promise!”

“Uh huh.” Nikki says, rolling his eyes at Tommy’s youthful enthusiasm.

Dottie brings your food over and you and Tommy dig in, you splitting your french toast with Nikkie. The rest of the night spend talking between the three of you about details for the band Nikki envisioned. Tommy hung on every word, and you couldn’t help but be curious about him. He was goofy and sweet, and he was just as taken with Nikki’s scheming and dreaming as you were. You had never really cared who Nikki was in a band with before, but you found yourself almost rooting for him to do well at his audition the next day.

That was new.

You had never really cared much one way or another for Nikki’s bandmates. They were all disposable in your mind. Just extra bodies that existed in a void, walking in and out of your life just like everyone else did. The only people that really mattered in the world were you and Nikki. That was the only constant truth. The idea that you might ever trust anyone else, might ever have other people you really, truly cared for, had never occurred to you. You didn’t have friends, you didn’t have have a family; you had Nikki, and that was all. That’s how it had always been since the day you were born, and that’s how it always would be. That’s what you’d always thought.

But you were wrong.

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