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propertyofnikkisthighs · 4 years

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She’s My Collar pt. 5

So I was gonna try to upload an update for both fics, but I’m still feeling yucky so have this chapter for now which I’m sorry if it’s not great, the next one will be better I promise lol.

Tag List: @nowhereiswhereibelong @littlemisscare-all

“Miss did you hear me?” The officer in front of me grunts.

“I’m sorry could you repeat the question for me?” I ask shyly focusing on him and not Kevin shouting and thrashing as the other cops are shoving him into the police car.

“I asked you if you could give me your recount of the events that took place tonight.”

“Oh right. Well…”

The flames are starting the consume the curtains and spread across the carpet as Tommy and I round the corner from my bedroom. I make a beeline for the kitchen to grab the extinguisher I had luckily purchased when Nikki started lighting himself on fire in their apartment. I toss it to Tommy and he gets everything currently on fire doused with the foamy liquid.

“What the fuck?” He wonders aloud as he reaches down picking up a broken bottle out of the mess. “River who the fuck would throw a moltov cocktail in your apartment?”

It’s like Loki the God of chaos himself is answering him when my door is kicked in and Kevin sways in full of intoxicated rage. He spots me frozen with fear against the fridge and begins to stomp towards me.

“You fucking good for nothing cunt I should’ve killed you when I had the chance” He screams and lunges towards me but is knocked to the ground by Tommy tackling him.

Tommy’s fist is covered in blood by the time I can get him pulled off Kevin and he spits on him as I get him pulled out of there just in time for the police and fire department to be pulling into the parking lot.

“We’ll be in touch.” The man hands me his card with his info on it before getting in his car and leaving.

Tommy is silent as we walk back to my apartment for me to inspect the damage done. My plants near my window scorched and my carpet destroyed is enough to send me over the edge. I collapse in the fetal position and let myself break down for the first time since the chaos began. I feel Tommy lay on the ground next to me and wrap his arms around me letting me have my moment.

“Thank you.” I hoarsely let out.

“I told you that you were stuck with us guys for the rest of your life especially me.” He pressed a small kiss to my shoulder and butterflies filled my stomach.

“Let's get off the ground.” I sniffle the both of us sitting back up slowly and eventually clambering back into my bed.

He pulls me against his body and rests his chin on the top of my head, the soft movement of him breathing lulling me to sleep.

“It’s the goddamn principal of the matter.” Nikki ranted as he paced through my living room while I tried to enjoy my morning coffee.

“So tell Vince you’re pissed.”

“No I can’t let him think he won. He needs to think I never wanted Beth in the first place.” He scoffed.

“Did you want Beth?”

“She gives great blowjobs. That’s why I suggested a threesome in the first place.” He plops into one of my chairs looking up at the ceiling.

“Listen Nikki I’m gonna be brutally honest since we’re friends and you would be with me, this is your fault for opening up your girlfriend to Vince Neil.”

“I hate it when you’re right you know that?”

“You’ll find a new groupie to fuck Nikki you’ll be fine. Now we gotta get to the studio you boys have photos for the album we need to take today.”

The boys had finished recording their first album by the grace of God himself. They spent the entire few days in the studio drunk and pissing off their sketchball manager, but by the end of it they had a full blown album that didn’t take much money to produce. They even got to save money on photos for the album since I was their personal photographer, which aforementioned sketchball was thrilled about. His name was Alan, but I didn’t have a good feeling about him so I rarely referred to him by his name, not to his face.

“My hair isn’t going to show!” Vince pouted in front of the (awful) white background Alan had thrown together for their album pictures.

“It’ll be fine Vinnie we’re gonna get them edited by a professional.” He quipped from beside me.

“Excuse me?” I ask unaware he was having somebody else edit my photos.

“Well yeah sweetheart you expect me to trust the work of an amature to look good enough without editing? You’re out of your mind.”

“Listen here you sweaty ass-” I’m cut off by Tommy’s hand covering my mouth blocking the next slew of insults I had prepared.

“Let's take 5 for a cigarette break” He says cheerfully and leads me away still covering my mouth.

“You can stop licking my hand thinking that is gonna make me move it from your mouth you know.” Tommy says after dragging me outside the building we were shooting in. I pull away from him and fix him with a death glare that he just chuckles at lighting up a cigarette.

“I don’t want someone else to fuck with my photos Tommy. They’ll ruin it, I just know it.”

“It’ll be fine Riv. Besides if it’s fucked up then next time Alan can pay you more to do the photos and the editing.”

“Yeah that cheap bastard isn’t about to pay me more for jack shit Tommy.” I roll my eyes and pace back and forth in front of him. “Are you guys sure you want him as your manager? He gives me a weird feeling.”

“I think you’re paranoid babe” Tommy pulled me close and placed a kiss on my forehead. “Now lets get through this photoshoot so we can party it up later alright?”

“As much as I hate The Troubadour sometimes, yes I’m willing to get through the rest of the photoshoot so that we can go ‘party it up’ with the boys there” I tease and lean in close to him.

Tommy’s intoxicating scent of leather, cigarettes, and the men’s body wash I’ve been getting him to use pulls me in and I tuck my face into his neck and place a soft kiss there. He hums as his hand plays softly in my hair and he pulls slightly to tilt my head up. Our lips connect in a soft peck and he pulls away to stroke my cheek with his thumb.

When I walk back in Alan was nowhere to be found, which was perfect for me so that I could get my work done faster. Vince it seems has also finished his little temper tantrum as well. The rest of the shoot goes by without a hitch and we get our final shot for the cover of the album, which was just a close up shot of Vince’s crotch. By the time we get done and piled into my car it’s about time to get ready for the party the boys were throwing for completing the album and releasing it themselves on their own record label.

“Are you Nikki Sixx?” A voice off to the side of Nikki calls and he turns from our conversation with a shit eating grin giving her a single “no” in response.

“Oh well that’s a shame cause I was going to split this quaalude with him.” She shrugs and goes to move on, but Nikki quickly stops her and confirms he in fact is Nikki Sixx and he was just fucking with her.

I watch her smile and bite her drug in half placing the other half onto Nikki’s tongue and he looks like he just might be falling in love for the first time. I look around and see Vince and Beth wrapped up together and Mick nursing his bottle of vodka, but I can’t find Tommy. I make my way through the crowd up to the bar and I don’t spot the tall brunette anywhere. He could just be outside smoking a cigarette, I tell myself feeling the bits of insecurity start to blossom in my head.

“Two Jack and Cokes please” I say to the bartender when I finally get his attention. I figure if I go to find Tommy with a drink in hand it makes me look less like a crazy person.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing ordering your own drinks?” The man to my left says and I have to put effort into not rolling my eyes.

“Well nothing on me is broken so I’m more than capable of getting my own drinks” I shoot back trying to walk away, but his hand comes up to block me from going forward.

“I’m just saying if you got a man he should be catering to you. What’s your name goddess?” His sickening grin shows teeth all too white against far too tan of skin.

“Her name is none of your business.” A deep huff comes from behind me and I turn to see Mick casually leaning against the bar.

“What are you her fucking dad?” The overly bronze man snaps.

“I’m trying to help you, but if you don’t want to keep all your fucking teeth that’s your dumbass decision.” Mick chuckles and tips his head to Tommy making his way towards us already sending hate eyes to the man next to me.

“You should listen to the man.” I shrug. “He fights.” I nod toward Tommy for emphasis.

The man looks like he’s about to argue when I feel Tommy slide his arm across my shoulders.

“This guy bothering you babe?” He asks sipping the drink in my hand never breaking eye contact with the strange guy with a look that said ‘one wrong move and I’ll kill you.

I smile like a cat that just caught a mouse and sip my drink as well.

My back hits the back wall of the closet as Tommy tries to find a secure place to hold my body so he can kiss me and grind into me at the same time.

“Fuck can I get this kind of reaction everytime I stick up for you.” Tommy pants breaking away from our kissing to catch his breath.

He hisses as I grind against him while pulling his hair back to expose his neck to me. I take the opportunity to nip at the skin there and feel the rumbling of another groan pass through him. Tommy begins to unlace his pants and suddenly the realization of how public we are hits me. Right as a worker opens the closet door to be exact.

“Ah I’m so sorry!” I yelp climbing off Tommy and rushing out of the closet and out the back door. Tommy is hot on my tail quickly catching up with the help of his long ass legs.

“Come on.” Tommy begins leading me to my car. “We’re going to your apartment to finish this.

#she's my collar #tommy lee fanfic #mgk!tommy lee fan fic #mgk!tommy lee #Tommy Lee #nikki sixx fanfic #douglas booth!nikki sixx #douglas booth!nikki sixx fanfic #nikki sixx #vince neil fanfic #daniel webber!vince neil #daniel webber!vince neil fanfic #Vince Neil #mick mars fanfic #Mick Mars #iwan rheon!mick mars #iwan rheon!mick mars fanfic #motley crue fanfic #the dirt fan fiction

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kelslikedevil · 4 years

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Ask: hi there I saw your post about requests :) would you do one about mkg as tommy where the reader gets a clit piercing or something like that and tommy really likes it sjsbshskdk smutty pls

Lil smut blurb for my friend here.

Tommy was finally home from tour after the extremely long nine months and the first thing he could think of the next night was seeing you. There wasn't anything particular going on between the two of you. It was more so just hooking up. However the intensity between the two of you was so mindblowing to Tommy that of course he was with you already, your topless body pinned under his as he kissed your soft lips, mixing your flavor with the alcohol and cigarettes.

"I missed this," You mumbled, moaning as he kissed down your neck biting and sucking on your breasts. Your nails scratched down his back as your hips rolled against eachothers.

"Fuck Y/N, you look so fucking sexy," Tommy whispered in your ear as he attempted to undo your skirt, but the zipper was stuck, desperate to taste you he gave up trying to leave it intact, ripping your skirt open as you gasped.

"Tommy!"

Tommy grinned, "I'll by you a hundred new ones," he told her pulling her panties down noticing the new piece of metal between her thighs. "When did you get this?" He asked surprised and the clit peircing.

"Few months ago," you murmured shyly, "I thought it would be cute."

"Cute? Its fucking sexy!" He grinned mischievously, as he spread your thighs wide apart.

You giggled, "Tommy you're too much- oh my god!"

His tongue ran over your slit at that moment concentrating on your clit which had his new favorite thing, your piercing. God he found it sexy, the cold feeling and metallic taste mixed with your warm wet pussy drove him wild as he teased your entrance with his middle finger.

Of course Tommy Lee could reduce you to a moaning mess in meer minutes after not seeing each other for months. You didn't think it'd be like this, but something about your new body mod hit him just right and it clearly was turning him on.

"Common baby, you can be louder I know it," he urged you glancing up from between your thighs. You watched the man with heavenly eyes and devilish exterior smirk at you, his fingers stretching and curling inside of you, and his tounge, god his tonuge. He lapped your clit like he was running a fucking marathon and seeing it just had you clenching the sheets moaning and screaming his name as your back arched in pure ecstacy.

"Fuck, Tommy!" You cried out whimpering as your body reached its height, your orgasam sweeping over you, hitting you so hard you were shaking in pleasure, as Tommy consumed you.

And he sure as hell wasn't done either.

#machine gun kelly #mgk #colson baker #est #lace up #fan fic #mgk!tommy lee #the dirt #tommy lee #the dirt smut #colson baker smut #machine gun kelly smut #mgk smut #tommy lee fluff #tommy lee smut #motley crue

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nikki-fucking-sixx · 4 years

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Always (Nikki Sixx x Reader)

“Honey, what’s the plan for dinner?” You turned your head to see your husband on the couch smiling at you. You picked your infant daughter, Sonja, up from her playpen and held her at your hip as you walked over to your husband’s side at the couch.

“Hmmm,” You were not particularly picky, “Let’s order in. This little lady has been running me ragged all day,” You say, smiling at your beautiful little girl. She smiled back at you before giving your hair a tiny tug. You put Sonja on your lap before resting your head on his shoulder, feeling exhausted from motherly duties. You looked over at the clock to see it was only 5:00. God, what the fuck has happened to you? Before you met Chris, you were sneaking backstage at concerts to do cocaine with rockstars. Now, your life was diapers and Disney. You didn’t mind it, you loved your little girl more than anything in the world. And Chris, he was the perfect husband and you loved him with all your heart, but your life felt emptier than it used to be.

“Chris, would you mind watching Sonja for a second? I’m going to take a quick nap.” He nodded and you handed her off to him. You dragged your tired body off the couch and wandered up the stairs to your bedroom and collapsed. Parenthood was exhausting. You were up at all hours of the night caring for Sonja, changing her, burping her, feeding her, it never seemed to stop. You rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling. You missed your old life sometimes.

Well, there was one person you missed specifically. You met Nikki when you were 19 while backstage at a Motley Crue concert in 1981. You two spent the whole night together talking, drinking, fucking, laughing and actually finding out who this dark mysterious man was. When you woke up the next morning you snuck out the window. You did not want to, but a man like Nikki would never want to see you again. After a week, he found you. You remember laughing as he walked into the restaurant you worked at, asking you out on a date. You were baffled to say the least, but you obviously said yes.

The ten months you two spent together were some of the wildest times in your life. You partied almost every night of the week as the rock and roll lifestyle encapsulated you. You never slept but when you did it was beside him. The lows were low with Nikki. The fights were heated and objects were thrown. But, the highs were so damn high. You had never felt more loved than you did when he held you in his arms and told you how beautiful you were.

But, good things never last forever. When you saw him kissing that girl, you knew it was over. There was no reason for you to be treated that way, and he knew that too. You were gone the next morning and you never saw him again. A three months later you met Chris and a year later you were married.

It has been five years since you last saw Nikki but you still thought about him every so often. How he was, who he was with, what life would have been like with him. You took a deep breath and began to close your eyes, letting your mind wander away from the one that got away. Then the phone rang. You sighed and rolled over.

“Hello?”

“Hey, babe. Long-time no see.” You immediately recognized the voice of your best friend Diana.

“Yeah it’s been a second. How are you?” You have gotten very good at small talk in recent years.

“I was actually calling to see if you wanted to come out with me tonight.” You couldn’t help but laugh. It was 5:30 on a Saturday, prime family time.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea.” She let out an annoyed huff.

“C’mon (Y/N), you’re 25! This is the age where you’re still allowed to have fun.”

“I have a baby Diana, I gotta stay in and look after her.”

“Have Chris take on some responsibility! That’s part of this whole marriage thing, right?” You rolled your eyes. She really was far away from the whole committed relationship thing.

“I just really think that I should-”

“It’s a Motley Crue concert and I have an extra ticket. I think you should go.” There was a pause. Your mind was going one million miles per hour but your lips could not move, but there was so much you wanted to say.

“Di… we both know that that’s a bad idea.”

“It’s not like you’re going to actually do anything. We’ll just go to the concert and then go home.” She was right. You didn’t have to speak to him or any of them. You could just watch the concert, unwind a bit. It really did sound like an attractive idea.

“Let me call you back, ok?”

“Alright, just don’t pussy out on me.” You hung up the phone before making your way downstairs to see Chris bouncing Sonja on his lap. She was smiling and laughing as he sang the words to a Beatles song to her. You could not help but stare and feel a warm sense of joy in your stomach. Chris looked up at you and smiled.

“Who was that on the phone?”

“It was Diana, she asked me if I wanted to go out tonight.” The feeling of pure happiness from before started to disappear as nerves settled in. “But obviously that’s crazy because I have to stay in with Sonja.” Chris shrugged.

“You stay in all day with her while I’m at work,” He blew a raspberry at her causing Sonja to give a big toothless grin. “I could use some baby time.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Go out and have some fun.” You leaned in and gave him a light kiss, smiling into it.

“You’re the best.” He gave a small laugh.

“ And I love you too.” You got up and began getting ready, excited for what the night had in store.

Diana picked you up at 9:00 outside your house. Picking something to wear that night was next to impossible. You were a mom now, you couldn’t wear those low cut tops you used to wear. You decided on boots, jeans and a somewhat modest crop top. When you walked out Diana gave a whistle.

“Now that’s a hot Momma!” You smiled as you compared your outfit to hers. She had on heels, jeans and a shirt that left nothing to the imagination. You wished you could be in something like that. You hopped in beside her.

“Ready to go?”

“Hell yeah! Let’s paint the town red.” Diana yelled as she sped off. Once you both got inside the venue all you could pay attention to was the vast amount of people. There seemed to be wall to wall people. You had no idea how you would fit into this crowd, literally and metaphorically.

But, once the music blasted, you felt everything around you melt away. You were that 19 year old all over again yelling for longer guitar solos and louder vocals. The band itself seemed like a blur. It wasn’t until your vision focused that you saw him.

Nikki.

He was just as you remembered. His hair was dark and big; his eyes held mysteries that you only knew the beginning of; his intensity never seemed to stay from the bass. And he was still a fucking mess, just as you liked.

You could not help but become very aware of what you were wearing. You were probably the most covered up woman in that whole venue. Everywhere you looked you saw skin and cleavage and here you were dressed like, well, a mom. He did not even seem to notice you as his eyes went from girl to girl, looking for the sexiest thing in the audience. That was Nikki though, what did you expect?

Diana seemed to notice your sudden awkwardness, turning to you and giving you a concerned look. You shook your head and smiled.

“I’m fine, just feeling a little old.” She rolled her eyes at you.

“Then act young.” At that, she pulled a bottle of Jack Daniels from her purse, “Let loose a little.” You grabbed the bottle from her and immediately took a giant swig. God, you missed the taste of dark liquor. The contents of that bottle went very quickly, mostly thanks to you. The buzz was setting in and you could not help but smile and dance like an idiot; however, you still would not let yourself look at Nikki again. It would just make you feel like you did all those years ago. You let your gaze stay on Vince as he ruled the stage. He really did know how to work the crowd, especially when more than half of them wanted to fuck him. You felt your dancing become more sporadic as their set wore on to the point that you felt yourself lose your footing. You hit the ground quickly.

“Shit (Y/N), are you ok?” You got up laughing and nodding.

“Yeah I’m fucking fine!” Once you got your head back up, you let your eyes wander and that’s when they met with his. Even in your drunken state, you could see the shock on his face. He never expected to see you again. After you told him to fuck off, you moved. There was no way he was going to hurt you again. But then, here you two were, in a room filled with thousands of people but only seeing each other. Fuck.

You had to go. This was a bad idea. What were you even thinking? All these thoughts raced through your head as you ran out of the crowd. You had to get out of here. The more you ran through the venue, the drunker you realized you were as you quickly became very lost. You found yourself in a relatively empty hallway filled with music equipment and stagehands. You did not give a shit. Your back hit the stone wall and you began to sob into your hands. You didn’t care that your mascara was running down your cheeks or that you sounded like a dying animal, you felt like absolute shit. So, the tears flowed more than they have in the past five years. You felt like a stupid young girl again.

You were so hung up in your thoughts that you didn’t seem to hear footsteps coming down the hallway. You definitely did not notice when they stopped in front of you.

“Never thought I’d see you again.” The tears froze. You did not want to look up but your body betrayed you. There he was, looking as handsome as ever. You sniffed, trying to recompose yourself.

“Believe me, this was not my idea.” His face seemed expressionless.

“Then why are you even here?” There was disappointment in his voice. You weren’t sure if it was because of you, the situation or God knows what.

“I honestly don’t know,” You brushed a hand across your cheek. “God I knew I shouldn’t have come.” You start to turn away but feel a hand grab onto your wrist.

“No,” His voice boomed through the empty hallway, making it feel full, “I’m glad you came.” You didn’t pull away from his touch, instead you turned to him, finally getting the courage to look into his eyes again. Even when his face seemed blank, his eyes always gave him away.

“Nikki, you haven’t seen me in five years. You don’t even know who I am anymore.” That’s when you noticed him look down at your hand. More specially, at your wedding ring. You did not know what to do. Apologize? Laugh? Cry? You never thought you would have to have this conversation. You could tell he didn’t think so too. His posture stiffened as he took your hand into his, rolling the ring around in his finger.

“I guess I don’t,” He couldn’t keep his eyes off of it, “What’s his name?”

“Chris,” He looked up at you again. Your eyes had not left his face.

“When did this happen?”

“A few months after you…” Your voice trailed off as your mind was filled with the image of Nikki’s lips on that girl. He could see where your mind was going and let go of your hand. You pulled it close to your chest like a security blanket. You did not know what to say, so your mind went to the first thing that makes you happy every morning.

“I have a daughter.” Your hand plunged into your purse, pulling out a picture of your beautiful little girl, “Her name is Sonja, she’s six months old.” His hands wrapped around the photograph. His eyes stared at the picture of your baby. He could not seem to look at anything else except your smiling little girl.

“Why are you showing me this?” He looked back up at you, his eyes now filled with anger.

“I-I just-”

“Why the fuck are you showing me this?” He screamed, throwing the picture on the ground, “Are you trying to make me jealous of your fucking perfect family? I get it, you have the white picket fence life and some small-dicked corporate husband who doesn’t know how to fuck you. It’s really perfect isn’t it?” You could feel the rage building up in you.

“Hey, it’s not your place to be jealous.” You wanted to hit him. “You lost that right when you fucked that whore!”

“Oh and now you want to have this argument again,” He stepped closer to you. “I’m a fucking rockstar, (Y/N). How can you expect women to not throw themselves at me?” He was in your face now.

“They don’t want you Nikki! They just want to use you as some story to tell.” He let out a bitter laugh.

“At least those girls are doing something with their lives instead of taking on the role as some bored fucking housewife. Who even are you anymo-” You didn’t want to hear it. Your hand made contact with his cheek. You both froze in shock, unsure of what to do next.

“Shut the fuck up Nikki.” It came out as a whisper. You wanted to walk away now, but you couldn’t. He took a deep breath before bending down and picking the picture back up. He held it in his hands, grasping it like it was his. He looked back down at your daughter’s face.

“She really is beautiful,” He fidgeted with the edges of the photograph, not letting his eyes leave it, “Just like her mom.”

“Yeah, she is.” He looked back up at you.

“I really thought that…” He paused, his eyes going to the ground. “You and I would be having one of these one day.” And there he was. The Nikki you always came back to.

“I did too.” His hand reached out and touched yours. Your fingers immediately entangled.

“I loved you so much, (Y/N),” Your eyes met again. “I still do.”

“I think I should go.” You didn’t want to but you had to. For Sonja.

“I understand, Sonja needs a mom.” You nodded, took your hand back and turned away, ready to walk down that hallway. Before you could take your first step, you felt a pair of familiar hands grasp your waist and turn you around. Then his lips touched yours. The passion that was there all those years ago was still in that kiss. You couldn’t help but let your hand rest on his cheek, just like you used to. Every bone in your body wanted to stay. To run away with this imperfectly perfect man. When his lips left yours, your breath seemed to catch and hold in your throat. His forehead touched yours.

“I’ll always love you, Nikki,” A tear rolled down your cheek, “Always.” His thumb dried it away.

“Go home, baby.” And that was goodbye. Goodbye from the rockstar life. Goodbye from your youth.

Goodbye from Nikki.

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cruecifymesixx · 5 years

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Love and Leather /part sixxteen/

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: back to the angst now, there’s more on the way soon lol

Warnings: Launguage

Taglist: @oskea93, @brideofdraculana, @electradestiny, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @miserablecunt, @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies, @tiranni, @awesomealmostdopestudent, @dillightfulpickle, @brooklyn-antiques, @countrygirlswonderland, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @extremesadnerding, @myheadisinvaded, @baiabouk, @justjodeye, @xstarryeyes, @madsthegroupie, @fandomshit6000, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @are-we-real, @hi-my-name-is-riley, @thatbandchick39, @awkwrdcait, @hoop-diddy-doo, @martabastic, @venus-calum, @romanticvengeance, @tashy-bear, @krazykatkay456, @gees-jacket-slut, @shinobi-nobi, @shouttatthedevill, @rodriguez025, @s-outhie, @aryssav, @anntheboneless, @anxious-diabetic, @awkwardblackgirls, @motlycrue, @moonlightxcal

I woke up the next morning, face down in the pillows as the sunshine beamed across my back. I exhaled deeply as my eyes adjusted to the light, turning my head to see an empty space next to me. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed clothes laying on the bed.

I sat up, hearing a commotion, as well as yelling coming from downstairs. I groggily got myself up out of bed, slowly getting dressed in what I believed were Sharise’s clothes. I pulled the shirt down and walked out the door, making my way through the hallway.

“I don’t care what you need to do!! You need to tell me what the fuck is going to happen with the band!!!” Nikki shouted in Docs face, I watched from the top of the stairs, “Vince is probably gonna end up going away for a very long fucking time if you don’t figure it out!!” Nikki continued to yell at him, as I slowly took each step at a time down the stairs.

“I’ll make some calls, I can’t promise you it’s gonna be the outcome you want Sixx. Sounds like to me you’re just being selfish.” Doc responded, crossing his arms against his chest,

“Fuck off, Doc! I’m thinking of my fucking brother whose sitting in a god damn jail cell right now!! Go do whatever it is you need to do to get him out, Now!!!” Nikki barked his orders at him, while Doc walked past him, giving me a forced smile while walking out the front door.

“What’s going on?” I asked Nikki, slowly wrapping my arms around his waist, leaving a soft kiss on his shoulder tattoo. He turned around, lightly pushing me off of him, “Not right now Vanity!!” He yelled at me, making me take a few steps away from him.

“Van..” Tommy spoke my name softly, leaning against the door leading out to the balcony, motioning for me to come over to him.

I looked at Nikki with confusion as he was leaning against the counter, rubbing his hands over his face.

“What’s going on T-bone?” I asked as he handed me a cigarette. “Sit down shorty.” I did as I was told, “You seemed to have fun last night?” Tommy retorted with a smirk, as he examined my neck and the bruises Nikki left on me, “What’s going on Tommy?” I asked again, lighting the cigarette and taking a drag, he sighed.

“Vince and Razzle got into a car accident last night.” Tommy explained, making me hold my breath while sitting up straight,

“Are they okay! Why aren’t we at the hospital right now!” I shouted while standing up, “Van...” Tommy struggled with his words, “Raz is fucking dead, man.” I felt as if a truck just hit me, “What? What do you mean? I just...I just saw him last night? I...I just talked to him last night.” I stuttered, feeling tears pooling at the surface.

“Fuck..shit don’t cry...please don’t cry Vanny.” Tommy said, trying to console me while putting his hands on my upper arms, gently rubbing them.

“Vince? Is...Vince...” I couldn’t convince myself to say it out loud, but Tommy shook his head. “Vince is alive, he’s fucked up, but he’s sitting in jail right now.” Tommy responded, while blowing out the remaining smoke that was in his lungs.

“Where is Sharise? Is she okay?” I asked him, he nodded, “Her mom came and picked her up this morning.” I nodded and wiped my face, watching Nikki come out, joining us by lighting a cigarette,

“Well, What are we gonna do?” I asked, Nikki laughing bitterly, “There is no ‘we’ Vanity, it’s my fucking band, which doesn’t concern you.” Nikki snapped at me, my eyes quickly looking up at Tommy, his eyes apologizing for him.

“Nikki, I’m just trying to help.” I said while sitting down next to him, “I don’t need your fucking help Vanity.” Nikki stated, “Nik-“ I said while trying to touch his face but he stood up and avoided my touch, “I called you a taxi, I want you to go home.” I furrowed my eyebrows, glaring up at him. “Tommy, can you give us a minute.” I asked him, not breaking the gaze I had on Nikki. I waited until Tommy closed the door,

“Why are you acting like this?” I questioned him, he rolled his eyes, “Why am I acting like this? My fucking singer is in fucking jail Vanity for driving drunk and killing Raz!!! That’s why I’m fucking acting like this!!” He yelled, more like vented his frustrations.

“You don’t need to take it out on me for someone else’s wrong doing Nikki.” I responded, standing up and crossing my arms against my chest. Nikki chuckled,

“You think just because I fucked you, you’re allowed to have a say now?” His voice low, almost brutally low as he got in my face.

I looked away from him, biting down on my tongue trying to keep my words inside, “Wow...unbelievable.” I expressed my distain, “You’re a real fucking asshole you know that.” I said while shoving past him, going back inside but he followed me.

“Did you really fucking think that meant something to me? Common Vanity, you’ve been around me long enough to know better then that.” Nikki responded, an arrogant smirk plastered across his face, making me want to slap it off of him.

“I never said it meant anything! God, loose the fucking ego Nikki!” I shouted, rolling my eyes.

How fucking dare he? How could he fucking think he could treat me like these other girls he fucks.

“You’re upset I get it, but you don’t need to take your fucking anger out on me, Sixx!” Nikki scoffed, “I’m not doing anything!” He defended himself,

“Uh you kinda are man, just calm down.” Tommy said, trying to get Nikki to back off, “Fuck you T-bone, it’s between me and her.” Nikki glared at him, shooting daggers through him,

“Nah fuck you man, I’m not gonna let you talk to her like that. She didn’t fucking do anything wrong, so back off.” Tommy defended me, Nikki giving me an evil grin, “There’s your queue Van, you might as well open your legs up for him too...her pussy is real good T-Bone..” Nikki said, “Dude, What is the matter with you?”Tommy stated, shoving Nikki’s shoulder, but he ignored it and started walking slowly to me, “So, I fucked you and now, I can send you on your way. So get out.” Nikki stared me down. My eyes searched his, trying to come up with something to say...but nothing ever came. Hot, angry tears were trailing down my face, “I can’t believe you, you fucking bastard.” I told him, but he was full of smiles.

“Vanity...” Tommy said, as I turned my back and started walking to the door, “He’s just, i don’t know...he’s angry and stressed, you know he doesn’t mean it.” Tommy followed me out, “T-bone, I love you but please just let it go.” I turned around, putting my hand on his chest to stop him. “God, Vanity common....I’ll have him call you when he’s calmed down..” Tommy pestered the situation, as I sat down in the taxi,

“Vanity, you know he loves you right.” I looked up at him when he said that, “Nikki Sixx doesn’t fucking love anyone but himself, he’s incapable of ever loving another human fucking being, so shut the fuck up.” I snapped at him, before slamming the car door.

#the dirt #the dirt fan fic #nikki sixx #nikki sixx fan fic #motley crue #tommy lee #douglas booth #mgk #the dirt imagine #nikki sixx imagine #motley crue fan fic #writing #my idea #1980s

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itad · 5 years

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Tonight's The Night! (part 11) TheDirt! TommyXReader

Summary: You have been on tour for almost a year, event after event, mile after mile. Your uncle was Doc the manager of Mötley Crüe, one of your favorite bands. He pulled a few strings and got you on this tour for a late birthday present and for making up the lost time from when you didn’t see him much as a child. As he was one of the only ‘father’ figures you had. Recently found yourself thinking more and more of Tommy. Could you possibly be falling in love with the hopeless romantic? If you were could he possibly feel the same?

Taglist: @bandzrus @lauravic @abbysdogcollar

A/N: We skipped a few months and the pov is back on you. Enjoy! And my birthday was a few days ago! thought I should tell yall.

Words:778

“Y/N, were you jealous? is that why you started fucking Nikki.” Tommy stood before you, his lanky arms folded in front of him, both of you were outside and it was pouring. Cliche I know right.

“What? No. If you're happy with Heather then I'm happy for you Tommy.” You were completely soaked at this point, you couldn't look at Tommy, you could lie your ass off to the cops but when it came to this crue you couldn't lie to any of them.

“Y/N look at me and say it,” Tommy took a hold of your shoulders, gently. “Tell me That I need to get married to Heather. Please. Goddamnit Y/N you drive me crazy. I haven't gotten you off my mind. Say that you feel nothing for me.”

“I can't.” You looked up at the sky even though it was raining, you were holding back tears.

“Then tell me you love me.”

You woke up from the little nap that you took. Today was the day of Tommy’s and Heather's wedding, you were less than happy about it. you slowly got up and went to the bathroom to take something for the headache you've had for the day hearing a knock on the door you walked to it. Opening you saw no other than Tommy fucking Lee right in front of you.

“Tommy?” You stepped out of your house, the sky was dark and you could smell that rain was coming. “What are you doing here? You're supposed to be getting married soon.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Am I doing this right?” Tommy’s question was deep.

“Doing what right, getting married? Tommy if you're happy with Heather then go be with her, I don't know what you're doing here.”

“I don’t think I’m in love with Heather.”

“I, I don't understand.” You looked at Tommy confused.

“Y/N, were you jealous? is that why you started fucking Nikki.” Tommy stood before you, his lanky arms folded in front of him, both of you were outside and it was pouring. Cliche I know right.

“I can't.” You looked up at the sky even though it was raining, you were holding back tears.

“Then tell me you love me.”

“Tommy. Tommy fucking Lee,” You took a step towards him. “I have loved you longer then you could ever know. Long before you even knew me. I will love you longer than anyone or anything, well besides your parents.” You looked at Tommy’s beautiful eyes, searching for something.

Tommys lips landed in a smile, his eyes darted to your mouth then back up to your eyes.

“What are you waiting for drummer?” Next thing you knew his mouth was on yours finally. It felt like literal fireworks. Pulling away you looked at him, searching for something like he felt something on his side too.

“Wow.” He grinned, leaning his head on yours.

“Wow.” You giggled, and he could’ve sworn he heard a angel.

You looked at him confused “Does she know your not getting married to her?”

“Well not totally...”

“Go tell her then come back to me cowboy.” Your voice stern yet still angelic. And with that he was gone again.

A few hours had gone by and you were getting nervous that after all he got married. Leaving you alone with just some scotch and a piano. You started playing the beginning and ending notes of later song known as Home Sweet Home, tuning the notes when it didn’t sound right. But you didn’t know was that Tommy was listening as he entered your sparcly decorated house. You stopped playing for a second and took a sip from your glass, finally hearing a clap.

“That sounds nice but for the last two notes it should sound like this.” Tommy fingers caressed the keys and carefully played the instrument. A soft smile rose to your face as you knew he was the one.

“What are you staring at?” He laughed his usual Tommy laugh.

“You.”

Next thing you knew was his lips on yours once again.

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primal-screamer-blog1 · 5 years

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Fan Fiction Master Post

I’m currently taking requests for Motley Crue and Guns n Roses one shots. If you’re a fan fiction writer, message me about doing a custom cover or about exchanging feedback.

Motley Crue Mutually Assured Destruction (Playlist Here) Rating: Mature Pairing: Nikki Sixx/F. OC Description: Growing restless in his discontent, Nikki Sixx is plagued with past anxieties that he never could find the courage to confront. He’d seen and done it all but when it came to Ruby Moon, he’d always felt he had unfinished business. Now, years after their tumultuous relationship had seemingly come to an end, Nikki finds himself compulsively recounting memories and asking questions only she would have the answers to. total word count : 20,586

Prologue One : Red When I See You Two : Attention, Affection Three : Think About What You Know Four : Patience Five : Different Between Us

Requests Requests featuring Motley Crue, Guns n Roses Description: Pick a boy from Motley Crue or Guns n Roses and a number from one of these prompt lists and I’ll write a short scene or one shot for you. Make sure to let me know which list you pick from! Include any details you may want. Smut Prompts Fluff/Angst Prompts Misc. Prompts Finished Requests:

Smut Collection 18+ Angst/Fluff Collection (Coming Soon) Misc. Collection (Coming Soon) Upcoming Edge of Seventeen: Coming Soon Rating: 15+ Pairing: Tommy Lee/F. OC Description: Nikki believes in magic, but Tommy’s not so sure. Nikki tells him to see a fortune teller on the outskirts of town. In her patchwork tent, she lets him in on a secret only she knows. For a price. Be Your Dog: Coming Soon Rating: Everyone Pairing: Nikki Sixx/N.B. OC Description: Nikki’s never really cared for anyone else before, so when he finds himself risking life and limb for his new, silent friend, he had to wonder why he was starting to care now.

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angrylizardjacket · 5 years

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sabotage {Machine Gun Kelly}

Summary: MGK has a Lot of tattoos, and Tommy Lee does not, at least not for most of when The Dirt is set. It’s no small task covering them all, but being assistant to the man who does cover them means you’re spending a good deal of time with the actor himself, and he’s not what you’re expecting... that is, if you actually knew what to expect.

A/N: 6477 words. alright so i went to im-fucking-db for Accuracy; shout out to: Christine Wada (costume designer), Corey Castellano (makeup department head), and Jorie Malan (key makeup artist). i reference these people in the fic, and i’ll be sure to explain who they are in the fic, but just in case you need a reminder, they’re also here. requested by my dear @luciana-galvez. under a read more because it’s a Monster of a fic. Please give me feedback, and also let me know if you want a part 2??

“You want me to order how much foundation?” It’s nine in the morning and you’ve barely stepped foot into the production meeting when Corey, the head of the makeup department, is tasking you with buying far more foundation than any one production should reasonably need. There’s overestimating and then there’s... this. “What shade?” It’s with an air of defeat that you accept the company credit card and open your laptop.

“Not now; the cast have a fitting at midday, we’ll get shade match them then.” Corey assures, but you keep your laptop open anyways to make notes during the meeting. It passes by fairly uneventfully, at least for you, and by the time you break, it’s already eleven and you’re starving. The corner store a few blocks away serves as a good a place to get lunch as any, and when you turn up to the fitting, half an hour early, you sit yourself in a corner to wait, and start on your sandwich of questionable quality.

You’re pricing bulk order foundation on your phone, still marvelling at the estimate you’d been given for how much you’d need, when the cast starts to filter in, well, the leads. Aside from being one of the makeup artists, you were also Corey’s assistant, which essentially just made you a glorified errand girl for the rest of the makeup team.

Half the costume department was already here, buzzing and agitated like wasps whose nest had been disturbed, and you’re careful to stay out of their way lest you get stung, or smacked for touching the wrong thing. So you’re grateful when the key makeup artist, Jorie, bursts in with ten minutes to spare, and gives a sigh of relief when she sees you. She’s holding a makeup kit in her hands, and when she begins to set up by a mirror out of the way of the costume department, you can see it’s mostly different shades of foundation, a few tubes of lipstick, more smokey eyeshadow-quad pallets than you can shake a stick at, some eyeliner, and a few face paint sticks.

She’s sticking photos to the mirror of the original band in full makeup, and that’s when you start to accept the fact that it’s going to be a very long day.

“You’re late.” The costume department is not about to fuck around, and despite the fact that there’s still five minutes to midday, the costume designer is already reprimanding the newcomer. “And you can’t smoke in here.”

“It’s not midday-” whoever’s walked in is already arguing back, though as you look up, you see him - god he’s so tall, all limbs - backtracking to stub his cigarette out on the screen door frame outside, you think you recognise him. Well, recognise him beyond the fact that you know he’s playing Tommy; you’d seen his bleach blonde head shot with the drummer’s name beneath it on the document Corey had sent out a few months ago, not that you’d given it a detailed look over. You just did what you were told, you could get to know the actors in the process. But as you’re looking at him, something about him does seem... familiar.

“On time is late; five minutes early is cutting it too close,” Christine, the costume designer was fierce, fiercer than any of the actors had expected, though the rest were already trying to hold back their snickers as he got reprimanded before they’d even started, “ten minutes early is on time; gives us all time to get ready.” She finishes, and disappears into another room to start collecting costumes.

“Fucking hell,” he breathes, rolling his eyes and running a hand through his hair, as the tension dropped the moment she had left. The others were grinning, poking fun at him for getting in trouble before they’d even gotten on set.

“’Stina,” Jorie shouts to the costume designer, “who can we start with?” There’s a long pause, and much shuffling and clicking of coat hangers from the costume department.

“The tall one,” Christine shouts back, and reemerges with an arm full of outfits, “Mister Booth, you first.” And the guy playing Nikki Sixx is lead to a dressing room. After a moment, an assistant carrying another set of outfits makes her way towards you and Jorie, but stops short, gesturing for the guy who had just been getting yelled at to step towards you.

“She meant you, Mister - uh, Kelly?” The nervous assistant doesn’t stay long, and scurries off to collect the two remaining actors, leading them through to the costume room as ‘the tall one’ gives a thin smile as he makes his way towards you.

“Not a fan of being called Mister Kelly?” Jorie asks with a knowing smile, and the tension breaks as he sits in the chair in front of the mirror, half smiling, “what about the tall one?” And he actually laughs at that.

“Fuck no, just Colson’s fine,” he relaxes into the chair, gaze meeting yours where you’re scrutinising him in the mirror, partially because, damn, he really is familiar and you can’t put your finger on why, and partially because you’re trying to figure out what foundation he’d use.

“Where do I know you from?”

“Y/N tell me you’re kidding,” Jorie mutters to you, looking up from where she’s leafing through a stack of photos of Tommy, “did you not read the brief-”

“Dude,” you hissed at her, ducking your head and bobbing down to rifle through the makeup box, “I read it months ago, sorry I don’t remember every actor whose name and headshot I see once.”

“You’re so clueless sometimes; you’re meant to be the young one. Hip to the jive, etcetera?” Jorie’s laughing at her own phrasing, not that you can blame her. When you resurface, holding a makeup sponge and five little bottles of foundation all roughly the same shade with slight variations, she’s looking expectantly at you, one eyebrow raised, hand out and gesturing to the blonde in the makeup chair. “It’s- what is it? - Machine Gun Kelly?” She says it like it’s meant to mean something.

“Gesundheit.”

“It’s his name,” she sighed deeply, pulling out a black stick of facepaint.

“Oh. Your parents hippies?” You ask, kneeling beside his chair and gently taking his arm so you could begin swatching the foundations on the back of his hand. After a beat you reconsider before he can get a word in edgewise, “I guess not if machine gun is in there.”

“Stage name,” he explains, but there’s a smile you can hear in his words, amused, and it doesn’t leave his face as he watches you work in the mirror as Jorie is applying the face paint in two stripes on both his cheeks.

“Hence, Colson?” You ask, not looking up, feeling a little foolish, though the stage name is starting to sound familiar to you.

“Yeah, hence, Colson.”

“Stage name for what?” You ask, but the thought is quickly taken over by the next and words spill from you before he can response, “were you all over Twitter a few months ago? I know I know you from somewhere.”

He’s quick to clarify; he’s a rapper, sort of an actor, yes he was ‘all over twitter’ a few months ago because of a ‘thing with Eminem’, his words not yours.

“So you’re kind of famous, huh,” you muse, which makes him chuckle, “well sorry for my terrible introduction; I’m Y/N, by the way.” And you hold out your hand to shake his free one.

“Flirt on your own time, Y/N, did you get a colour match?” Jorie snaps, advancing on him with an eyeshadow brush held threateningly before her. He closes his eyes, but not before seeing you fluster at the accusation. “You’re the one with all the tattoos, aren’t you?” Jorie’s voice is quieter as she focuses on her work, and Colson tells her he is. The makeup artist steps back for a moment, her gaze appraising as she looks him over. “Could we get you to take your shirt off so Y/N can make sure she’s got the right colour foundation for your chest?”

“I wasn’t flirting, I was shaking his damn hand, this isn’t the forties.” You fire back playfully, sitting back on your heels as Colson pulls off his sweater.

“The forties? How old do you think I am?” Jorie squawks, raising her eyebrows at you.

“For your sake, I’m not going to answer,” you say sweetly, accepting it as the makeup artist cuffs you gently on the back of the head, though both she and Colson are laughing at the exchange.

As you look to him, it all starts to finally make sense, recognition dawning on your face as you take in the tattoos painting their way across his skin. All of it would need to be covered for certain scenes in the movie, which would require a lot of foundation.

“You mind if I-” you awkwardly gesture to his chest with the sponge in your hand, and he sits back in the chair.

“Go for it,” and he closes his eyes again as Jorie comes in with the eyeshadow once more. As you apply the foundation near his collar, where there was a patch of uninked skin large enough to get a good comparison from, from the corner of your eye you see his lips twitch into a grimace for the barest moment.

“Sorry it’s cold,” you murmur, and he gives a smile, shrugging it off easily. You find a colour match easily, and it doesn’t take long, so you hand him a makeup wipe as Jorie starts talking at you, about how Corey himself would be handling the tattoo covering but that he wanted you there to help out. Of course you knew you’d need to be there, you’re his assistant after all, and after you note the shade required, you stand back and watch Jorie do her work.

“I wish we had one of the wigs,” she muses, finally stepping away after she’d finished touching up his eyebrows, and you join her where she moves to stand behind his chair, all three of you looking at him in the mirror.

“You did good though,” you nod approvingly, leaning in a little to compare Colson’s reflection to the picture of Tommy taped to the mirror.

“‘Stina,” Jorie calls, “do we have hair coming in later today?”

“At three,” Christine calls back, and finally you look to where she’s standing by the changing room, putting pins into a leather harness that Douglas was wearing; it looked equal parts uncomfortable and sexy, though you know the second part was on purpose the first part would probably be helped by being surrounded by everyone in their own eighties, bordering-on-fetish costumes. You give him a thumbs up, expression pensive as you look him over, and look back to the photo of Nikki by the mirror. It does not seem to ease his discomfort.

“Alright, sounds good, are you ready to send the next one over to us?” Jorie calls back, and after Christine tells Douglas to get changed out of his costume, you send Colson over to her.

“Don’t wipe that off, we can touch it up but we wanna see it with the wig,” you instruct, and he gives a mock salute and a grin, and you feel yourself smiling back. He was a lot... less than his stage name lead you to believe; he had a lot of energy just under the surface, that much you could tell, which meant he had great potential for his role as the over the top drummer, but he had an easy confidence, a level of professionalism that you’re grateful for, and a tattoo of a spider over his nipple, which you’re not sure of the significance of but it amuses you.

And, not to be shallow, though in this industry sometimes you can let yourself be, he’s hot. Though maybe you just had a thing for guys in eyeliner.

Stop.

You were going to be getting up close and personal with him for the next few months as you would probably be helping Corey cover all his tattoos; thirsting over him in eyeliner is the last thing you’re allowed to think about doing. Above all else, you had to stay professional.

And, as the weeks went on, you were successful in that.

Mostly.

“What’s that one about?” You ask, poking at the tattoo of a London bus on his side. He jumped a little at the prod, giving you an amused but rather tired grin as Corey said your name like a warning. It was almost eight in the morning and he was trying to airbrush an even base coat of darker makeup across Colson’s back that you could apply foundation on top of. It was one of the days where he’d be filming shirtless, and ‘even’ was hard to achieve if he kept moving.

“I got hit by a bus.”

“No you didn’t; shut up!” Your eyes shine bright with amusement as you give him a disbelieving grin. He smiles back, sharp, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Did you think I got it immortalised on my fuckin’ body for fun? It hit me full force; I cracked the windshield,” and he sounds almost proud of it, and maybe he is, but you don’t seem to notice how his smile gets a little wider when he hears you laugh.

“And what about this one?” You poke at the spider over his nipple and he squirms a little. Corey says your name, more insistent this time, and you mutter out a half-assed apology, moreso waiting for Colson’s reply.

“That one’s just cool.”

Maybe it’s the fact that you spend three hours with him a day at least, being weirdly close, which is par for the course when you’re applying foundation to his whole chest and sometimes his legs, but you’re becoming fast friends. Corey’s adamant that you don’t need to come in for the full three hours every day, but you’re there with a smile; rain, hail, or shine, just proclaiming that you enjoy your job when Colson asks about it. He calls you dedicated, and he’s mostly right; though if you’re being honest, part of you just enjoys spending time with him.

“Do you listen to any rap?” He asks, curious one day; Corey’s finished the airbrushing stage and has stepped out to grab a coffee from craft services, leaving you to start on the foundation.

“You mean, do I listen to you?” You smirked, not looking away from where you’re dabbing the foundation down his arm.

“I know you don’t listen to me; you didn’t even know who I was ‘first time we met,” he snickered, and you considered for a moment, humming as you turn his arm over gently and start working on his forearm.

“Well, okay, you’ve got me there, it’s just not my style, you know?”

“That wasn’t really the question,” he’s smiling a little, and you huff out a laugh, conceding.

“I mean, I don’t hate it; if you’re really twisting my arm I’d say I sometimes listen to some of The Beastie Boys earlier stuff; Slow Ride, Posse in Effect, Paul Revere? That I can jam out to.” And you look at him, guaging his reaction, biting back a laugh at his exaggerated wince.

“Not even Sabotage; so you really don’t listen to anything from this century?” He’s teasing you now, and you have to chuckle at that.

“Sabotage is okay.” You roll your eyes, looking back at your work. “When you guys stopped using a brass section as accompaniment, that’s when you lost me; it just adds a certain...” you hum thoughtfully for a moment, taping your chin as if in deep thought. He actually laughs at that, and when you look up, you think your heart might skip a beat at the sight of his smile, “gravitas? Je ne sais quoi?”

“So what do you listen to? What modern music has that,” and he puts on a terrible french accent to gently mock your earlier words, “je ne sais quoi?” You shove him lightly, though there’s no malice in the move, or in your grin as you’re moving to stand in front of him. You start dabbing makeup across his chest and collar. It’s getting harder and harder to keep your thoughts professional when you’re so damn close to him, and he won’t stop smiling at you like that.

Listing off a few bands from this decade seems to placate his curiosity enough, even if he rolls his eyes at some of your choices. Pausing for a moment, you tip your head side to side, considering.

“And classic rock, of course; not just the music, like the people behind it are fascinating, you know?”

Surprisingly, he’s quiet for a long moment.

“You must be enjoying this then,” he muses, though you can hear the suggestiveness in his tone and you swallow hard, refusing to take your eyes off your work.

“This production?” You deliberately refuse to read into his tone, though he was making it difficult when you could hear his smirk in his words, “yeah it’s been pretty great. Get to listen to a bunch of Crue all day? There’s definitely worse jobs in the world.” Snickering, you chance a look at him, though he’s not meeting your gaze, he’s still smiling as watches you work in the reflection of the mirror.

“What about you? Enjoying yourself?”

“Yeah, I mean it’s a challenge at times, but it’s a good one, you know? And I’m getting up at six every morning which is kind of a drag,” he grins though as you mutter out a quiet apology, “nah, don’t worry about it, ‘just part of the job. It’s good, it’s one-hundred.” And he’s looking at you, gaze a little unreadable where you’ve gone quiet as you work, focusing.

It becomes a routine that you fall easily into; wake up at some ungodly hour, smash a coffee or an energy drink before spending three hours covering Colson’s tattoos with Corey, spend an extra hour and a half helping paint on Tommy’s tattoos if the scenes calls for it. Once he’s done, you tell Corey you’re going to get breakfast but you actually take a nap before you’re woken up by one of the production assistants telling you that you have twenty minutes before you need to be on set, so you race to the corner store and grab something cheap and eat it in a distracted haze as you head back to Corey’s trailer to pick up your makeup bag, before heading to set to be on standby for if any of the boys need touch-ups as filming starts. You’re there longer than most of the cast, staying back after filming’s wrapped for the day to help Colson take off his makeup and get the workspace prepped for the following day, crashing into bed almost immediately after getting home to rinse and repeat all over again. It was fun to begin with, but it was wearing you down quickly.

“Dude, you look dead on your feet.” Colson frowns as you yawn loudly, haphazardly blotting foundation onto his back.

“Y/N, it’s looking patchy, I need you to focus,” Corey’s frowning, but for a different reason as he looks over from where he’s made a start on the actor’s shoulder. You wave Corey off with a mumbled apology, rubbing at your eyes before recentering yourself and getting back to work. You meet Colson’s gaze in the mirror for a beat; he actually looks concerned, but you’re too tired to really care.

And okay, maybe, just maybe, seeing pretty girls drape themselves over the cast, over Colson, over all your hard work, it got irritating. Not that you begrudged those beautiful girls their job, it’s just that sometimes the oil or body glitter they’re covered in to play strippers would end up exposing some of Colson’s tattoos as they were all over him in certain scenes. Next to them, you were the one wearing jeans and a sweater, carrying a tote bag and looking like a child when you had to touch up his makeup. Everyone was always kind to you, of course, and you to them, but you think it’s more pity on their part; it’s common knowledge within the first week of filming how early you had to arrive, and how late you stayed back.

Some of the girls were incredibly talented actors. Probably. They were wasted in this film, reduced to eye candy and sex dolls, pretty beyond belief but not with any real substance. More than a few of them were dismissive of you, mean and sharp, because you weren’t the one responsible for their makeup, so you didn’t matter, and yeah, they were in intense, physically demanding scenes at times, but some of them seemed to just be catty for the sake of being catty. You tried not to let it get to you.

You really fucking tried.

Some of the extras had formed a sort of clique against you, which you found absolutely ridiculous, but they seemed to resent the fact that you and Colson got along. It had been a few weeks, starting with just snide comments in your general vicinity, but by now it had moved on to straight-up bullying. It was never around anyone important, least of all Colson, and when you’d told Corey about it, he’d just advised you to ignore it, as if it would help.

So you were tired, both physically and mentally, and this actor had the gall to come up to you and call you desperate. For doing your job.

“Hey, can you kindly fuck off?” You snapped, fury blazing in your eyes as you fought to keep your tone level, “I’m trying to do my fucking job, it’s not my damn fault the director won’t give you any screentime-”

“Wow, harsh.” Colson’s voice comes from somewhere to the left of you, and he doesn’t sound impressed. Of course he has to come in at the worst possible moment, just when you sound like a villain. It feels like you’re on the verge of tears, exhausted and stunned, and the extra’s expression flickers to something smug for the barest moment before looking almost painfully innocent.

“I’m really sorry,” she sighs softly, hanging her head; it’s an act, and not a very good one, but she’s pretty, “I just know you work in makeup and I thought you could help me find someone in costume to talk to; it’s okay, I’m sure I could find someone else.” It’s painfully scripted, and she plucks at the string of the bikini she was wearing nervously for effect, turning and heading away.

“Take a break or something, you’re acting like a tool,” Colson says, and doesn’t let you get a word in edgewise, going after the girl, whose ruse had manipulated him just as she’d wanted. He’s introducing himself and you feel like death standing; you hear a snicker from behind you, and when you turn there’s one of the extra’s friends, another from the clique, smiling triumphant.

When you get back to Corey’s trailer, he pauses where he’s eating a sandwich from Craft Services, and raises an eyebrow at you. You bite back your bitterness and pull your sweater from your bag, balling it up and using it as a pillow as you resigned yourself to napping beneath the row of makeup mirrors. Corey goes back to his lunch.

“You wanna talk about whatever this is?” Corey asks. You’re struggling to untangle your earphones after pulling them from your pockets.

“Unless you can do something about the asshole actors on set, no, I don’t want to talk about it.” You sigh, resigned and resolute. Corey nods, taking another bite of his sandwich.

“Fuckin’ actors.” He muses.

“Fuckin’ actors.” You agree. It’s not an honest statement regarding your feelings towards actors as a whole, but sometimes a few bad apples really did spoil the bunch, even if it was only for a moment.

You get to nap, heart aching where you’re pretty sure Colson thinks you’re some work-obsessed asshole who thinks you’re better than the actors you work with. Which you obviously don’t, but daily bullying can wear down the nerves. It only takes a moment, one careless comment that came out too harsh for the likes of onlookers, and any good will you’d been building up seems to evaporate. Not to mention the lies you know the extra had probably been feeding him since the moment you left.

When Colson comes in to get his makeup removed for the day, the tension is so thick that to you it felt solid. You’re sitting in one of the makeup chairs, spinning idly, scrolling through your phone when the door opens; his gaze finds yours the moment he steps in, but he gives you a look, scrutinising, almost disbelieving, and he looks away.

“Do you need my help?” You asked Corey pointedly, your gaze shallow and tired. Colson was tying his wig into a bun already, a look you quietly adored, though he was refusing to look at you. God, the clique really had managed to slander you in only a few hours.

“No dear, go home and rest, you need it,” Corey smiles at you, and you’re already moving around, pulling on your sweater and collecting your things. You want to say something, say anything to the man who’s now regarding you icily, but soon enough some of the other members of the makeup team are here, like always to help speed up the removal process, and your voice gets caught in your throat.

“Hey,” by the door, you finally stop, “I don’t-” but your breath catches on a sigh, “I don’t have the energy for this; I’m not the asshole.” And you sound so defeated, but he doesn’t answer, just rolls his eyes and keeps scrubbing at the foundation on his skin.

The moment you step into the trailer the next morning, same time as always, at the crack of dawn, you can already feel exhaustion settling into your bones.

“Take the day off,” Corey frowns at you, “Colson told me what those assholes told him; I’m gonna have a word with him about it this morning.”

“No, dude, I’ve gotta explain myself, if I take the day off it looks like I’m running away; I’m an adult, I don’t need you stepping in for me.” It takes you a moment, and you sigh, defeated, “listen, Corey, I actually really like Colson, okay? And I don’t want him to think less of me, so if that means I have to be up at too-fucking-early-o’clock convincing him I’m not a complete bitch, then so be it.” Corey can’t help the pitying look he gives you, but doesn’t say anything more on the subject.

You’ve worked in this industry for years, it’s not the first time something like this has happened; while working in close proximity to talented, famous individuals, outsiders sometimes get jealous. It’s easy to be told to try and ignore it, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt when someone you thought you were getting along well with completely ices you out because someone who’s jealous twists their opinion of you.

It takes a full hour, the silence thick and heavily as Colson stood patiently as the makeup was applied, before you can work up the courage to say something.

“What did she say to you?” It takes him a few moments to register what you’d said, but he frowns a little in confusion. “What did she say to you about me?” You reiterate, voice calm and level, focusing on your work as you speak, and his mouth opens as he goes to tentatively respond, but you don’t give him the chance, “because I can promise you she’s lying.” His mouth closes again, frown deepening. Corey is silent too.

“Well, I was told that you treat her like shit and don’t take her seriously just because she’s an actor, which is pretty fucked,” he admits with surprising candor. You have to take a moment to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“It would be fucked if it was true.”

“But you don’t take her seriously. Apparently you ignore her when she comes to you for help.” And it hurts to hear him spout the slanderous rhetoric the extra had poisoned him with.

“It’s not Y/N’s job to help her,” Corey cuts in, much to both Colson’s and your own surprise, “and I’m sure if she had a real question, she would point her in the direction of someone who could help her. ” His tone doesn’t leave room for arguments, though Colson doesn’t exactly seem convinced; perhaps he assumed that you really were some heinous bitch who had turned the makeup department head to your side.

“I do take actors seriously, obviously,” you gesture to him, and he makes an expression that’s a little unreadable, “but if you have to know, she and a group of other extras have been harassing me for weeks now, so yeah, I tend to ignore her.”

Your hands are shaking. When did that start? God, when did you start caring so much about what he thought of you? When did the idea of him thinking badly of you start making your chest hurt. When did schoolyard bullying start getting to you so much? Things are moving in a blur, and you think you mumble something about getting a coffee before you leave the trailer.

Corey finds you half an hour later at the corner store, staring blankly at the coffee machine, cup of undrunk, now cold coffee in hand.

“Go home. Please.”

You look at him, but his words aren’t really registering; he realises he may have interrupted a micronap. It appears you need rest far more badly than he realised. He sends you home for the rest of the week, and it’s a Wednesday. You want to protest, but you cut yourself off with a yawn and he calls an Uber for you without letting you get a word in edgewise.

It’s practically radio silence for almost five days.

You watch Netflix and eat junk and take baths and claim self care when really you’re wallowing, dreading going back to work. Sometimes you catch yourself just staring at your phone; you and Colson have each other’s numbers ‘in case of emergency’, though what would constitute a makeup related emergency you’re not sure, it was his suggestion. Emergencies turned out to be him asking about call times, sending selfies from on-set where his face makeup was running from how much he was sweating, he’s grinning and bright and Douglas or Iwan or Daniel are pulling a face in the background, blurry photos of you on set that you hadn’t realised he’d been taking at the time.

There’s one you stop at when you’re looking back through them, it’s another selfie, he’s squinting, having just woken up, and half cut out of the shot where he’s focused the camera on a smudge of foundation and a bit of eyeliner on his white pillowcase where he hadn’t managed to get all of the makeup off the night before. It’s surprisingly intimate, despite the fact that he’s followed it up with [💀😢].

You wanted to send something, to say something, but you weren’t sure what you had left to say. You weren’t in the wrong. You didn’t need to apologise.

Sometimes you thought you saw the typing bubble appear, but it would disappear just as quickly.

You’re refreshed by the time you step back into the trailer on Monday morning, feeling almost chirpy, that is until you see that Colson’s arrived before you, and Corey’s nowhere around.

It’s not the same as last time, there’s no anger, no hostility in the way he’s regarding you, just a surprising pensiveness. He’s lounging in his makeup chair, watching as you put down your things and start rifling through the collection of makeup on the counter.

“Where’s Corey?” You ask, carefully neutral.

“Said he’s getting coffee.”

“That’s kind of him.”

There’s a long pause that follow, and when you finally look at him, Colson seems to be considering you seriously.

“Do you have to be here?” Despite the words that are said, they don’t feel like an attack, instead they feel like a genuine question, bordering on concerned.

“It’s my job,” you start, but he smiles a little, and something in your heart eases.

“Yeah, no, I know, but you don’t always have to arrive this early, do you? I wouldn’t if I had the choice,” he snickers, and you sit back on one of the other chairs scattered about the edge of the room, waiting for Corey to get back, playing with a makeup sponge.

“Well you don’t, and neither does Corey, and...” hesitating a little, you fidget, avoiding his gaze, “it didn’t seem fair.” You shrug, laughing a little awkwardly, “leaving you here with him all that time.” Though you’re trying to clarify by means of a joke, he sees through it clearly, expression quickly morphing into a grin.

“So he was right.”

“About what?” You ask, looking at him with surprise and confusion written all over your face; this wasn’t the reaction you were expecting.

“Corey’s pretty convinced you just like spending time with me,” you can feel yourself getting flustered, looking down at your fidgeting fingers.

“He’s such a snitch.” You mutter, and Colson actually laughs, and though you feel your anxiety holding tight in your chest, you force your next words from your mouth; “yes, okay, if we’re going full middle-school about this, I enjoy your company. A lot.” You pause for a moment. “Are we good?”

“Yeah, of course; I’m sorry I was a dick last week,” he actually gets serious for a moment, tone surprisingly humble as he speaks, “I just- there’s like this long history of people shitting on me and not taking me seriously, so it touched a nerve, but I should know you better than that, right? Like we’ve spent enough time together that I should know you’re not some entitled dick.”

It’s enough to make you smile.

“Corey gave you a talking to, didn’t he?” You teased, and Colson rolled his eyes.

“Practically the moment you left; turns out those girls have had a few complaints from HR, situations like yours,” he sighs, before grinning a little, “but yeah, we’re good.”

It’s as if a sudden elation comes over you, and you have to work to not let it show on your face, else you’re pretty sure you’re going to embarrass yourself at how happy that makes you.

“And of course I take you seriously,” you hear yourself saying as you turn to rearrange the makeup on the counter, though you both know he can still see your pleased grin in the mirror, “I take all actors seriously, and you’re wonderful to work with-”

“Oh, so I’m wonderful now?” He snickers, though it’s not unkind, and you accidentally knock over a bottle in your embarrassment.

“Wonderful to work with,” you clarify, but he still takes the win, just as Corey finally walks in with three mugs of corner store coffee in hand.

“You were right, and she thinks I’m wonderful.” Colson practically preens, and Corey makes a face, before turning that face on you.

“I take it back; you’re the worst client I’ve had.” You deadpan, and Colson can’t help but laugh.

“No way, you’re not living this down,” he muses, smiling fondly at you. “I’m gonna tell everyone-”

“Christ, tell me you’ve at least asked her out,” Corey sighs, putting down the coffees, and that shuts Colson up quickly, “or do I need to go on another twenty minute coffee run to give you two some space?” He doesn’t even wait for an answer, just heads towards the door, announcing that he’s going to get a spare airbrush head from the other makeup trailer and that you have ten minutes.

“Sorry about him.” You say into the silence that follows in the wake of Corey’s departure. Colson’s surprisingly tight-lipped, avoiding looking at you. “He makes a lot of assumptions.” You add, getting to your feet and crossing to where the coffees sat in their little, cardboard carry-tray. Each cup has a name, and you take both yours and Colson’s, heading over to him with an expression that you hope is something akin to a friendly smile, and not a grimace of embarrassment.

“He’s right though,” Colson reaches out for his coffee when you offer it; his fingers brush your as he meets your gaze and it feels like a moment. “You wanna grab dinner or something after today?”

Mind whirling, part of you thinks he’s made a mistake, that he hadn’t meant to say it, another part worries about what the rest of the cast and crew will think, and part of you is worried it’s a joke. But you’re so sick of doubt.

“Yeah, actually I’d love to.”

The morning passes in a breeze, passes much more easily than it’s seemed to for the past month, and there’s butterflies in your stomach the entire time. There’s an electricity in the air during filming, though you’re pretty sure you’re the only one who can feel it. He’s wearing the wig with the undercut, sitting behind the drums up on the risers for most of the day, wearing only a pair of underwear, boots, and suspenders; it’s quiet a look. Somehow he’s still managed to sneak his phone up there because you’re zoning out at the side of the set, and he takes a photo of you, sending it to you; your eyes are glassy by you’re grinning to yourself, and once you get it, you look to him, and he’s grinning as if he’s waiting for your reaction. You roll your eyes at him, but you’re still smiling; you’ve missed this.

“You’re actually kind of sweet, aren’t you?” After filming wraps for the day, you’re crammed into a booth of the only restaurant open in town past ten. You’ve just ordered, and he’s leaning back, regarding you with amusement.

“I don’t know why that surprises people, most of my asshole act is just, you know, an act, for show or whatever,” he shrugs a little, smirking, “most of it; sometimes I am just an asshole.”

“I don’t know your asshole act,” you remind, smiling a little; there’s butterflies in your stomach but they’re excited rather than nervous, relishing in the way he’s smiling at you, “but I guess I should have know you better anyways; after all, we’ve spent enough time together, haven’t we?”

#mgk #mgk x reader #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly imagine #mgk imagine #colson baker #colson baker x reader #colson baker imagine #the dirt #the dirt cast #the dirt imagine #the dirt cast imagine

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yesloverboy · 5 years

Text

Neighborly (mgk!Tommy Lee x Reader) Part 1 (?)

SUMMARY: Transfering to Los Angeles for university, you end up having to rent the cheapest place available the summer before your first semester. Lucky for you, it just so happens to be above Mötley Crüe’s apartment of debauchery and legendary parties. While moving in, you meet Tommy, who is more than eager to help you move your stuff in. The closer you become, you soon realize that Tommy is taking your welcome mat as more of an open invitation…

word count: 3,295

[Warnings: swearing, minor injuries with blood, drug and alcohol mention, lots of backstory because it’s chapter uno yadda, yadda, yadda.]

NOTE: Hey everyone! I was thirsty for more Tommy content and figured it was about time to write some myself. This is the first fic I’ve written in literal years, and I’m extremely nervous for y’all to read it, but something about this new wave of Crüe fans just really brought it out of me.

I’d really love to make this a series, so if you have any feedback or suggestions please hit me up!

The Los Angeles sunshine burns bright as you pulled your old pickup truck up to your new apartment. It isn’t the most glamorous place you’d ever seen but, for Los Angeles, the price certainly won you over. Starting over in a new city at a new university wasn’t going to be easy, but knowing you’d have all summer to adjust made you hopeful for the future. Who knows? Maybe you’d make a few friends along the way. With a heavy sigh, you turn off the truck and step out into the blistering heat.

You glance up at the building before you, trying to gauge where exactly your apartment would be situated. It was a brick, multi-level apartment complex with flights of metal stairs snaking all the way up to the top. Glancing at the bed of the truck, you take note of all the boxes and furniture you had to stuff and bungee cord down just to get across the country. Instinctively, you already feel yourself regretting that you had agreed to live on the fourth level.

Oh well, you think, might as well go up and see the place.

As you jog up the second flight of stairs and approach the third level, you can’t help but notice that the apartment directly below yours looks completely trashed from the outside. The balcony is littered with so many bottles and cigarette butts that whoever living there may as well have been collecting them.

Slowly, you realize that wasn’t the strangest thing. The window of the apartment hung wide open, while the front door was practically nailed shut. You hoped to God that the landlord was planning on doing renovations, otherwise passing that place on the regular is seriously going to give you the creeps.

Deciding your imagination is probably getting the best of you, you head up the next flight to see what you new home was going to look like. When you approach your doorstep, you are relieved to find that your new place seems to be in much more stable condition. You are even delighted to find that the previous tenant had left a mat outside the door that simply stated, Welcome. Turning your key in the lock, the door opens with a satisfying click.

Upon walking inside, you notice that it’s a bit smaller than you had hoped– but otherwise fairly clean and normal. There’s a small kitchen, a living room, and a bedroom connected to the balcony. However, you probably can’t access it unless you feel like climbing through the window, or maybe going out the front door and around.

Shrugging, you throw your keys on the kitchen counter. It’s not much, but it’s definitely good enough. Now it’s time to fetch those goddamn boxes.

After about an hour of lugging boxes up the stairs, you had decided that unpacking might just be your least favorite activity. As you start narrowing down your things to just the heavy stuff, you begin to notice some movement coming from the grimey apartment beneath yours. As you struggle to haul your small dresser past the third floor, you are shocked to see an average-sized guy with a mop of shaggy black hair emerging from the window.

What the fuck?

You try not to gawk as he attempts to shove some semblance of the balcony’s bottle collection into a trash bag, but you can’t help yourself. His eyes snap up and meet yours with an icy stare. Unable to say anything, you opt for continuing to drag your dresser hurriedly up the steps.

On your way back down, you try to ignore whatever was happening on the third floor, hoping the man had given up and gone back inside. Trotting hurriedly to your truck, you steal a glance back up at the third floor balcony and realize the intimidating guy collecting trash isn’t alone anymore. At his side is a tall, giraffey figure leaning against the railing and puffing on a cigarette. His hair is shaggy and dark like the other man’s, but it shines more of a chestnut brown in the sunshine. With an amused grin, the tall stranger waves at you.

Brushing the wild hairs away from your face, you try to wave back and appear calm and collected. Unfortunately, it doesn’t stop the heat rising to your cheeks as you wonder how long they had been watching you move in for. Rubbing your dirty hands against your denim cutoffs, you decide you would have to get over it if you want to get moved in sometime today. To your chagrin, you realize all you have left is your couch and mattress. Getting them in by yourself was such a bitch that you knew getting them out could only be worse.

Having your neighbors watching you certainly doesn’t help either.

Oh fuck me, you groan internally as you start tugging the edge of the couch out of the truck bed. You are just starting to break a sweat when you hear a voice calling out to you from above.

“Wait–! Let me help you with that!”

You look up, surprised to see the gangly boy from the third floor balcony scrambling down the stairs. He approaches you, practically tripping over his own feet as his long legs strain against his tight jeans.

You take in the sight of him, noticing his orange tee is just a little too short for the length of his torso, while his jeans clung to his legs like a second skin. You find it unusual that he has a studded belt wrapped around his waist, considering the fact that his jeans clearly fit him a little too well. That is, until you notice a pair of drumsticks nestled in between the denim and the studs.

Weird.

“Uh…hey.” You greet him, stupidly. Being used to doing everything yourself, people offering their help always felt awkward. Especially when hot neighbors were involved.

“Hey,” despite your awkwardness, he still has a dumb grin plastered across his face, “I’m Tommy!”. Immediately your neighbor starts to grab for your couch, sliding it out of the bed and towards the ground with ease.

“I’m Y/N, thanks for offering to help, but you really don’t have to do that.”

Tommy laughs, “Oh please, as if a tiny thing like you can get this all by yourself. Why don’t you just grab an end?”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to hide the smile that was dancing on your lips. You certainly weren’t the tiniest person you knew, but you figure a guy as tall as him probably thought everyone was small.

“So, you live on the third floor?” You try to make small talk as you lift the opposite end, letting Tommy take the lead.

“Yeah, dude! That’s where me and my band live. Pretty sweet, huh?”

“Call me crazy, but I’m pretty sure I’m your new upstairs neighbor,” you laugh, trying to control your breathing as you and Tommy heave the couch up the steps.

“That’s so sick!” You two had literally just met, and yet Tommy seemed genuinely excited by the news. “I really hope you like parties, Y/N, because we have the best ones.”

Mentally connecting the dots, you felt silly when you realized that Tommy’s seemingly ransacked apartment was all just the aftermath of some rager.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll come check it out sometime.”

Before you knew it, Tommy is already pushing open your front door and sliding the couch inside. Tommy looks over at you, not the least bit out of breath.

“So, what’s left?” he asks, eager as ever. This time you don’t hide your smile.

“Uh, I think it’s just the mattress.”

“Sweet, I’ll be right back, Y/N.” Tommy brushes past you, already galloping down the stairs. His energy was already a lot to keep up with, and you begin to wonder if he ever had an off switch.

He’s not really going to get the mattress by himself, is he? You run out toward the balcony, and, just as you suspected, your brand new neighbor is already on his way over, dragging your mattress in tow. You may have come all the way to L.A. from a small town, but you never imagined anyone in the city would be this nice to you.

There is a courtesy knock at the door as Tommy finally arrives with your mattress. He doesn’t even give you enough time to wipe the stupid smile off of your face before he’s already inside and dragging it towards your empty bedroom. You can’t help but let your gaze linger on Tommy as he drags the mattress past you, his shirt tightening around the muscle of his lean arms is enough to make your mouth run dry.

“Hey, Y/N is it okay if I set the mattress here?”

Tommy’s voice snaps you back into reality. Realizing he probably caught you staring, you wander over to the mattress and give it an absent-minded kick with the toe of your boot.. “Oh, um, yeah Tommy that’s perfect there.”

Tommy had shoved the mattress up against the window, and honestly you couldn’t see the point in moving it. Grinning triumphantly, Tommy points to you with a large hand.

“So I see you like to rock, too.”

It took you a moment to realize he was pointing at your raggedy t-shirt. You glance down, nearly forgetting what you were wearing, only to realize you had put on your old Black Sabbath shirt that morning.

You laugh, “Oh this thing? Yeah, I guess you could say that. I actually came to L.A. to study music.”

“Wait, you can study music?! That’s sick as fuck!”

“Yeah man, you totally can.” You don’t want to admit it, but having your major validated by some cute guy you just met felt pretty good. “Although, I reckon you don’t need to study music considering you play it and all. What is it that you said you played?”

With a swift flick of his wrist, Tommy pulls one of the drum sticks out from his belt loop and begins to twirl between his fingers at an impressive speed. “Drums, dude! Been playing since I was a kid.”

Your mouth fell open, “Where on earth did you learn to do that?”

“Honestly? High school marching band– but at this point I think it’s safe to say I’m just good with my hands.” He winks directly at you, slapping your shoulder playfully with his free hand.

You blush bright red immediately and giggle nervously in response. Less than an hour with this guy and you were already getting the sense that he was going to be major trouble for you if he didn’t stop being so…friendly. You stop your mind before it was able to get ahead of itself. Yeah that was it, he was obviously just being friendly.

“Well it was really great to meet you,” you attempt to draw the conversation to a friendly close, realizing you were becoming way too flustered and had way too much work left to do. “And seriously, Tommy, thanks so much for helping out. I definitely owe you one.”

To your relief, Tommy starts to head toward the front door. “It’s no problem, dude. Honest. I’ve been waiting to find someone to hang with besides those losers downstairs.” He’s just about to turn the doorknob to leave when, suddenly he spins around in a jolt of energy.

“Wait, me and the boys are actually having another party tonight if you’d wanna stop by?” Tommy’s eyes are wide and full of hope as he waits for your reply. You really wish you could, but with the amount of unpacking you had to do you, there was no way you could justify going to a party on your first night.

“Sorry, Tommy, I really wish I could, but I still have so much shit to do.” You gesture to the piles of boxes for emphasis. Sure, you hadn’t brought much, but you still had to run to the store if the apartment was ever going to look anywhere close to home by that night.

Tommy’s shoulders slump a little at your rejection, but he still keeps a soft smile on his lips. “Well, that’s okay. I guess I’ll just have to come up and bug you some other time. You know, be neighborly and all.”

You find the confidence to nudge his arm, “You do that, drummer boy.”

“Will do, see ya later, Y/N!” Just like that, Tommy practically bounces out of your front door and begins bounding down the stairs to his own apartment.

You shake your head, smiling to yourself and wondering just what in the hell you had gotten yourself into. Reluctantly, you turn around to face the small piles of your stuff scattered about the apartment. You decide that it’s probably better to go to the store and come back to unpack later.

It was going to be a long night, but there was nothing that a good old fashioned bottle of wine couldn’t fix.

Later that night, you busy yourself with sprucing up the kitchen. With a glass of wine in hand, and a half empty pizza box on your newly-assembled dining room table, you find that unpacking is actually going rather well for a change. For a moment, you think that maybe you have Tommy’s unexpected helping hands and adorable smile to thank for that, but you quickly dismiss the thought as just the wine talking.

As it turns out, Tommy wasn’t lying about the grandness of his band’s parties. All night you could hear people of nearly all ages hooping and hollering like there was no tomorrow. You could even feel the vibration of music beneath your feet, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t put up with.

You are just about to go and pour another glass of wine, when a frantic knock pounds at your door. Confused, you opt to ignore it, thinking it’s probably just a drunk party-goer mistaking your apartment for Tommy’s. Still, something doesn’t feel right. You stand up, slowly setting down your glass and slowly making your way over to the door.

“Hey, Y/N!” Someone calls to you from the other side of the door, strangely the voice is familiar. They’re still knocking. but this time it sounds more frantic. “It’s me, Tommy! Open up, I need your help!”

You rush over to the door, swinging it open to find your neighbor looking nervous and pale. You look down and notice that he’s clutching his right hand protectively, keeping a crimson soaked towel wrapped tightly around it. Mouth hanging open, you realize quickly that he’s bleeding.

“Oh my god, Tommy, what did you do to your hand?”

You step aside, allowing Tommy to push past you and come inside. “Well, uh, it’s kind of a long story, but basically Nikki–that’s my bass player–he bet me that I wouldn’t be able to smash a bottle on my head, so obviously I had to prove him wrong…but, uh, something went wrong and when the bottle shattered, it cut my hand open…”

Tommy trailed off, looking at the floor like a child about to be scolded by their mother. His rambling made it very clear to you that he was pretty drunk, so you would have to choose your next words carefully.

“Um, Tommy, do you think you could come over to the sink and show me how bad it is?” You stepped into the kitchen and Tommy followed in suit, still refusing to let his eyes meet yours.

Gently, you place a hand on his forearm and guide it over the sink. With how red the towel is from Tommy’s blood, there was no telling what it was going to be like when you unwrapped it.

“Tommy, do you want to unwrap the towel or do I need to do it?” Your voice comes out calm and steady, but on the inside your stomach is tying itself into a million anxious knots.

“Could…um, could you?” Tommy’s voice is suddenly small and distant compared to how it was at the door. You can feel your heart soften at the sound.

Gingerly, and somewhat reluctantly, you take his injured hand and begin unravelling Tommy’s makeshift bandage. Although his hand remains steady under your touch, you could feel Tommy’s upper body pull away. It almost seems like Tommy is afraid to see the damage.

The towel falls to the bottom the sink with a wet thud, and you can’t help but take in a sharp breath at the sight of Tommy’s hand. In the center of his palm is a deep gash with blood pooling in the center.

“Oh god, Tommy. I think you may have to go to the hospital for this, look I could drive you–” You start to say, and immediately he pulls his hand away from yours. You look up, shocked as his eyes finally meet yours. He doesn’t look angry, but afraid, and you can feel your heart break just a little.

“Y/N, please, no–no doctors. I can’t go to the doctor I…” Tommy trails off, his face now paler than before and you worry he’s might be at risk of fainting.

Gripping both of his arms firmly, you hold his distressed gaze and speak as gently as possible. “Tommy, hey, listen to me, okay? I’ll do what I can. I won’t make you go to the doctor if you don’t want to.”

If you were to be honest with yourself, you know it would be so much better if he would just go to the doctor, but you doubt your ability to get Tommy to a hospital safely in his drunken stupor. With a weary sigh, you beckon for Tommy to follow you to the bathroom. Luckily, you had bought a roll of bandages at the store today, but you certainly hadn’t expected to use them so soon.

You grab the roll of bandages and a washcloth from under the sink and turn to face Tommy. “Now, listen. I’m going to rinse off your hand and then you’re going to sit down over there so I can bandage it up, okay?” You gesture over to the toilet seat, praying Tommy doesn’t notice the slight tremor of your hand.

He doesn’t, or maybe he doesn’t care. Instead, he gives you his leaking hand once more, head hanging low in embarrassment. You turn on the tap and slowly bring his hand underneath the cool water. Tommy lets out a hiss of pain as the blood runs pink down the drain, but otherwise remains perfectly still.

Once the water finally runs across the gash with minimal blood following with it, you decide it’s safe to wrap up again.

“Alright, drummer boy, I’m going to need you to take a seat.” As Tommy sits down on the toilet seat, you’re shocked to find that, even sitting down, he’s still nearly as tall you are. You take his injured hand once more and begin methodically wrapping it, hoping to god that it’s tight enough to last the night.

Just as you’re finishing up, you look up at Tommy to find him staring intently at you. You quickly avert your eyes, reminding yourself that he’s just drunk and confused right now. Clipping the bandage in place, you pat the top of it delicately for good measure.

“Well, Tommy, it looks like you’re all set.”

You expect him to get up and leave, but he’s still staring at you just as intently as before– like you’re the only person on the planet.

To your surprise, Tommy’s signature grin returns to his face as if it had never left.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re beautiful?”

Part Two

Masterlist

#i finally did it!!!#writing #motley crue #mötley crüe #the dirt #the dirt movie #the dirt nextflix #tommy lee #vince neil #nikki sixx #mick mars #machine gun kelly #mgk #tommy lee x reader #mgk!tommy lee #mgk!tommy lee x reader #neighborly series

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propertyofnikkisthighs · 4 years

Text

She’s My Collar pt. 4

Tags: @nowhereiswhereibelong

I jolt awake in terror clutching my chest and looking around wildly before my eyes adjust to the dark and I remember I’m in my own room. I try to focus on calming my breathing back to a normal level and hold my head in my hands. A thin film of sweat covers my forehead and the cool air against my back is an indicator that is also covered in sweat due to my nightmare. I take a deep breath and contemplate my next move carefully before I think fuck it and decide to throw caution to the wind. I fling the covers off of my body and get up turning my lamp on so I could see properly. I look around for clothing to throw on and find a pair of shorts and one of Tommy’s shirts he had lent me after getting a beer dumped on me by a drunk asshole at a show. I slip my feet into my slippers and make my way over to the boy’s apartment.

The music flows out of the open window near their front door, which is now nailed shut from the cops kicking it down so much. The potent odor of marijuana is also spilling out of the window along with a particularly shit faced girl who runs to the railing and proceeds to spill her guts over it. I hear Tommy before I see him as I crawl through the window into the living room.

“You guys are gonna fucking freak.” I hear Tommy say and I find him just in time to catch his face going between a girl’s legs going to town.

I avert my eyes and make my way around his public show into the kitchen to try to find any of the other boys. I successfully locate Nikki in the kitchen tearing through the cabinets in search of something. He nearly falls into me turning too fast, but luckily catches himself at the last minute.

“Hey Riv!” He yells excitedly messing up my hair. “Have you seen our rubbing alcohol?”

“I don’t live here Nikki.” If he’s looking for rubbing alcohol I know he’s up to no good.

“Come on River don’t be a fucking buzz kill.” He sighs annoyed with my concern for his well being.

“Under the sink.” I roll my eyes and he gets a goofy smile on his face running to get it.

I lean against the wall and watch as Nikki tears into the living room like a bat out of hell. A man laughs, egging Nikki on as he dumps the liquid on his leather jacket clad arm and uses his lighter to cover his arm in flames. The man clearly had never been to one of their shows if this little production had him wowed. Nikki flashes a shit eating grin my way and walks towards the man little fires falling from him singeing the carpet in his wake. The man backs away seeming genuinely scared that Nikki will burn him and I know Nikki will accidentally burn him so I spray his fire with the spray bottle I kept on the fridge to discipline them.

“River what the fuck?” Nikki scoffs at me in disbelief crossing his arms like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“If you light the building on fire the band is fucked out of a living slash rehearsing space.” I say shrugging.

“You know you could at least try being less of a loser.” Nikki grumbles at me and I’m about to fire back for him to shove it when I see Vince adjusting himself in his pants coming out of the bathroom.

“Have fun? Did you enjoy the ride?” I directed him.

“I know she sure did.” Vince laughs giving Nikki a high five. “When did you get here, River? You normally say no to our invites to party with us.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” I shrug.

The moans of the girl Tommy is “performing” on suddenly cut through the noise of all the millions of other things going on in the apartment. I turn to go deeper into the kitchen and look in the fridge for a beer to ignore them. The boys on the other hand go to check out the show. I take a sip of the beer and try not to cringe too much at the taste. I wasn’t a big drinker in general and I especially disliked the taste of beer, but it was the only thing the boys had in their fridge. I squeeze my eyes closed as the grand finale comes to an end in the living room and try to pretend that what was happening in there wasn’t happening. Tommy rounds the corner and catches sight of me, eyes closed squeezing a beer between two hands and stops dead in his tracks. I peek my eyes open and see Tommy stopped in front of me slowly turning a deep red shade all over his face.

“Hey.” I say cracking a smile and he smiles back, but he still looks embarrassed.

“Hey. How long have you been here?” He asks rubbing his neck nervously.

“Long enough.” I take a sip of my beer. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Can I?” He asked motioning to the fridge and I realize I’m blocking the door for him to get into it.

“Oh yeah I’m sorry.” I shuffle to the side and he cracks open his beer and chugs some of his beer leaning on the counter near me.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Just restless. I’m fine.” I lie not wanting to put a damper on his night.

“Want to take a shot with me?” He smiles wildly and I nod my head agreeing. Which was my first mistake that night. My eyelids feel as if they are a million pounds and my head feels like someone wacked me upside it with a brick. I groan and try to pull my covers over my head from the blaring light of the window only to be met with some unseeable force holding them down. That was about the time I noticed that not only was this not my cover, this was not my room at all. I sit up quickly, far too quickly and everything spins around me. I groan again and hold my head in my hands until I regain stability. I hear soft snoring next to me and look over to see Tommy laying on his stomach in just his underwear a small pool of drool next to his mouth. I look down and see I’m only in his shirt and my panties and a panic sets in my bones. Did I fuck Tommy last night?? I need to get to my apartment and quick.

I scan the messy bedroom and locate my shorts and bra discarded on the lamp in the corner and slowly make my way to them so as to not make much noise. I pull my shorts on and try to find my slippers. They seem to have been kicked haphazardly in front of Tommy’s door luckily and I slip into those before tip toeing out of the room. I close the door softly and turn to leave smacking right into Nikki’s chest.

“Well well well look who is doing the walk of shame this morning.” Nikki chuckles and I place a finger over his mouth shushing him.

“Not now Nikki. I have a killer hangover.” I whine in a whisper.

“Here come in the kitchen let a professional teach you how to treat a hangover ya big baby.” He motions for me to follow him and against my better judgement I follow him.

“How do you possibly do this all the time?” The dull thud in my brain is churning my stomach and I’m almost worried I’ll blow chunks right then and there.

“I told you, I’m a professional.” He smirks as he hands me a glass of mystery liquid. I take a drink and choke on the harsh burn of a jack and coke.

“Nikki what the fuck is your problem?!” I cough. “I’m hungover, why would you give me more alcohol?”

“Hair of the dog.” He shrugs.

“I’m going to my apartment. Where things make sense.” I storm out of their place as best as I can considering I have to crawl out of a window with Nikki calling out that he’ll see me later at the show.

Oh fuck I forgot about the show tonight. I try not to make too much noise getting to my room as Mick is sleeping vampire style on my couch, which seemed to be the new normal for us. Once I’m safely in my room I flop and the bed and shut my eyes praying when I wake up this hangover will be long gone.

The boys are rowdy as ever tonight in their favorite post show booth at The Rainbow. Tommy and Nikki have bashed each other's heads on the table more times than I can count and Vince would disappear every so often for the bathroom, but would return with pupils the size of saucers and a mouth ready to shout along with the overgrown idiots with whom he shared a band. Oh not to mention they had a girl sucking their dicks under the table. I tried to ignore the fact Tommy was struggling to keep his expression neutral as the girl gave him his “turn”.

“I have to go to the bathroom.” I announce not that any of them are really paying attention besides Mick who nods to acknowledge me.

Instead of heading to the bathroom I stand outside listening to the sounds of the strip to calm myself. There was no need to get worked up. So what if you guys might have slept together and you couldn’t remember it? He was an on the rise rockstar that was their thing right, so why did it hurt so bad? I took a deep breath and collected my thoughts again before I went back inside to face the music, but I hoped the girl had moved on to Nikki by now. To my delight (and also surprise) the table girl is gone entirely. Just as I’m about to ask where their personal dick sucking machine has gotten off to a blonde slides in next to Nikki.

“Aye River!” Nikki acknowledges me in his state of drunken friendliness. “I want you to meet Beth.”

“Hello Beth.” Vince winks her way and I can already see the cogs of his brain trying to calculate a threesome at the very least. And taking Nikki’s girl at the very most.

“Hey.” I smile trying to play nice. She seems like most of the groupies the guys regularly fuck, a rich girl that likes coming to the strip to blow guys and daddy’s money on drugs.

As the night continues on Vince and Tommy trade places with him ending up right next to me. The booth is crowded and I try not to let my mind wander everytime Tommy’s fingers brush against my knee or when he tucks his face into my hair to laugh excessively from boyish joy and alcohol mixing.

“Alright well we’re gonna move on to the next bar you coming T-bone?” Nikki slurs holding Beth’s hips against his own and sways in the spot next to the table from being intoxicated.

“Nah man someone’s gotta make sure Riv gets home safe.” Tommy tosses an arm around my shoulder and I feel my face heat up.

“Suit yourself.” Nikki shrugs and a smug smirk falls over his face. “Remember kids the only sure fire way to prevent unwanted pregnancy is to swallow.”

He’s out of my reach when I lunge up to try to whack him which only increases his enjoyment at my embarrassment. He gives me the finger as he and Vince walk away snickering with Beth calling a “nice to meet you” back to the rest of us.

“Ya coming Mick?” Tommy asks as we pile back onto the strip.

“I have to go make sure things are cool with the she-beast at home. River leave the extra key under the mat for me just in case.” He rolls his eyes walking to his car.

Tommy and I have walked home at night alone more times than I could count now and yet there was this thick awkward silence between us this time. He normally would toss an arm around my shoulder or hold my hand, but his hands are jammed in the pockets of his leather jacket and he walks a few paces ahead of me. Just as I’m about to ask him if things are okay he starts to speak.

“You left.” Is all he says softly.

“What?”

“You left this morning and didn’t say anything.”

“I was just really hungover and wanted to sleep in my own bed.” I half lie to him.

“Do you even remember what you said to me last night?” He huffs.

“Tommy I don’t really remember last night.”

“You said you always wanted to sleep in bed and wake up together.” Neither of us continue walking at that point.

“I-”

“Did you mean it?” He asks looking at the ground.

“Yes Tommy.” I admit “You’re my best friend at this point. I feel safest when I’m with you.”

“Yeah. Best friend.” He repeats.

I take the few steps to bring me right beside him and snake my arms around him to hug his middle and by the grace of god he hugs me back. The rest of the walk home is quiet, but the silence doesn’t feel heavy anymore. I convince (not that it took much convincing) Tommy to shower and sleep at my apartment instead of me sleeping in his gross apartment again. My back is to the door and I can’t see Tommy enter my room but I can smell the men’s body wash I forcibly bought for him. The mattress dips and creaks slightly as he settles in next to me and the warmth the shower brought him radiates towards me in waves. An involuntary shudder rolls through my body and the next thing I know I’m being pulled against Tommy’s warm skinny body. I glance over my shoulder to see Tommy staring down at me with an unreadable expression.

“You don’t remember any of last night?” He asks barely above a whisper.

“Nope.” I copy his tone.

“So then you don’t remember…” he trails off and brings his hand up to cup and stroke my cheek and his tongue darts out to wet his lips quickly.

“What?” My eyes flick from his eyes to his mouth and back up again.

I can hear my heartbeat in my ears as the distance between us begins to shrink. My eyes flutter close and I’m sure I stop breathing when our lips ghost over each other not quite fully connecting them.

I hear the sound of shattering glass. Then I smell the fire.

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propertyofnikkisthighs · 4 years

Text

She’s My Collar pt. 2

holy shit two uploads in one night?! hell yeah baby i’m grounded by the government and we’re about to be writing heavily again.

The sound of Tommy’s feet hitting against the desk fills the air in the office as I’m trying to double check my inventory count and my eye twitches in response. Tommy had taken to following me to work as of recent ‘in order to get the cool collars before the dog owners’. His feet slap against the metal as he drums on his knee and just as I’m about to scream at him to go make himself useful I hear Nikki’s voice calling for him through the store.

“Yo Sixx we’re in here” Tommy yells out and I groan anticipating no work actually getting done.

Nikki walks in with Alyssa hot on his tail gushing about their most recent show. He nods along, but has a very clearly bored expression on his face which takes everything in me not to smack off.

“I can’t believe you are so comfortable with being lit on fire.” Alyssa states in awe.

It was their newest addition to the shows, and much like everything else, they have been practicing that stunt in the apartment.

“Yeah they almost burn our building down everytime that they rehearse.” I grumble.

“Hey you get free entertainment.” Nikki smirks hopping on my desk and snatching my papers from my hands.

“I don’t have time for games Nikki.” I reach for them and he holds them above his head knowing I can’t reach while I’m sitting.

“I need to request a favor then I’ll be out of here.” He tries his best to give me innocent eyes, but if there was one thing Nikki wasn’t, it was innocent.

“Ask then so I can get back to work.” I pinch the bridge of my nose in an extra show of annoyance.

“You do photography right?” The question is mostly rhetorical since he knows I in fact do photography as a hobby.

“Yes?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Will you take pictures of the band? I’ll hook you up with blow.” He knows I hardly smoke weed let alone do blow.

“If I say yes will it get you out of here?” I roll my eyes.

“You know it will.” His smirk is plastered on his face again and I accept defeat.

“Then yes I will take pictures of the band for you.”

“Awesome. So bring your camera to the show tonight.” Nikki placed the papers back on my desk and slid off ruffling my hair as he went.

“But I’m supposed to be doing your make up tonight? I’m supposed to do both?” I call as they all start to pile out of my office.

“Well it’s not like they’re at the same time.” Tommy shrugs shutting my door behind him as they leave.

I let my head drop to my desk while I release the mother of all full body groans and wonder why I let these idiots into my life in the first place.

My key turns in my lock and I smell the faintest hint of coffee. I hadn’t made coffee this morning. My heart drops in my stomach and I softly start to open the door placing my key between my fingers to prepare for a confrontation. I peak around my door seeing nobody in the kitchen which only serves to confuse me more. I softly close the door behind me and tip toe around checking the other rooms, but not finding anybody. Just as I’m feeling at ease the sound of my balcony door opening pulls my fear to the forefront of my brain again.

“Yo Riv, I hope you don’t mind that I-” Tommy’s voice trails off as a shrill shriek escapes me when he suddenly comes around the corner.

“TOMMY LEE BASS I NEARLY PISSED MYSELF!” I cry out slapping his arm.

He laughs at my weak attempt to at least cause a bit of damage for him scaring the shit out of me and just ruffles my hair much in the same way that Nikki did earlier today.

“I thought I locked that door when I left.” I mumbled mostly to myself as he stepped past me and into my kitchen to pour coffee in one of my mugs. How did he even know where I kept my cups?

“You did.” He says nonchalantly getting my creamer and sugar out.

“So how did you get in?” I pull out the things I need to make myself a sandwich and give him a look silently asking if he wanted one when I knew the answer would be yes. The boys had two things in their fridge, alcohol and cheap sliced cheese.

“I broke in. The lock on your door works the same as ours.” Again with the nonchalant tone.

“Tommy you can’t just break into my house and use my things.” I hand him his sandwich watching as his eyes light up at my small gesture. “Hey you know one of these days you’re gonna be happy I know how to easily break into your apartment. Could save your life.” He replies with a mouth full of food.

“I highly doubt that, but I’ll keep it in mind T-bone”

“Nikki can I have my camera back?” I plead exhausted and ready to go home after their show.

“In a minute.” He snaps a picture of a groupie on her knees in front of Tommy and snickers handing me back the camera. “There I’m done with it.”

“That’s going to be fun to develop.” I frown at the device wishing I had a way to erase that picture.

“So” Nikki pauses to snort a line off the dressing room counter. “I was thinking we need to get some good shots in for this record.”

The boys had decided to take things into their own hands with getting their first record out. They had created Leathur Records to distribute their album in hopes it would catch the attention of real labels and get them signed quicker.

“Do you have a video camera?” Nikki asks, preparing another line.

“MOTHER FUCKER!” A shrill voice shouts from down the hall.

“Babe my pants!” I hear Vince’s voice cut through the jumbled curses being thrown at him.

I crack the door to see a butt naked Vince standing alone in the hall holding his dick in his hand.

“Fucking loved those pants.” He whines stomping back to the dressing room.

“Jesus Vinnie” Nikki doubles over laughing at the singer’s misfortune (karma).

“Christ Vince do you have any other pants or at least underwear?” I looked up at the ceiling to avoid looking at the naked man pouting on the couch.

“Why the fuck would I wear underwear under leather pants River?” Vince moaned.

“I have pants you can wear in my car singer.” Mick spoke up from his seat in the corner where he nursed his bottle of vodka.

“I’ll go get them Mick.” I offered and he tossed the keys into my open hand.

“I’ll come with!” Tommy piped up. I had forgotten he was even there the groupie that had previously been with him now nowhere to be seen.

We walked to the car laughing about Vince’s predicament and poking fun at his inability to keep it in his pants, not that Tommy or anyone else in the band had room to talk for that matter. Tommy slung an arm around my shoulder and I let him pull me in breathing in his familiar scent of whiskey, cigarettes, and a bit of post show sweat that I had grown to appreciate much like Tommy himself. I pop the trunk of Mick’s car and searched through the chaos for a pair of black leather pants.

“Riv did you hear anything I just said?” Tommy whined nudging my side.

“In a minute T-bone I need to find these pants.” speak of the devil. I let out a triumphant “Aha!” holding them in the air before shutting the trunk and heading back towards the door to back stage again.

“So I was saying that maybe I can take you out for ice cream or something soon.” he repeated sheepishly sticking his hands in his pocket. “Ya know, for everything you do for the band.”

“Oh Tommy I-” The words die in my throat and my body is thrown into fight or flight mode.

Standing in front of the door to head back stage is the one person I never wanted to see again. Grinning like the cheshire cat himself.

“Hello Rebecca” the words carry their own dose of venom that my body can feel.

“Kevin.” I choke out.

“Rebecca? Riv who is this?” Tommy asks defensively positioning himself slightly in front of me.

“Damn Rebecca you didn’t even tell your new boyfriend about your husband?” He crosses his arms over his chest and the evil glint in his eye is unmistakable, he’s here for a fight.

“Husband?!” Tommy echos in disbelief.

“Did she forget to mention our kid too?” He cuts his eyes at Tommy and then the pair focus their sights on me.

I try to find words to explain myself but the only thing that comes out is vomit. Right on Tommy’s new boots.

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propertyofnikkisthighs · 4 years

Text

She’s My Collar pt. 3

Trigger warning: Mentions of domestic abuse

“It’s been 3 days Riv. You’re gonna have to talk to me about what the fuck happened the other day.” Tommy says standing on my balcony smoking a cigarette.

How do I even begin to explain myself though? I swipe his pack of cigarettes off the railing and light one taking a drag. Tommy raises an eyebrow at my actions, but otherwise is non reactive to the nasty habit I’ve picked up and quit for what felt like a million times.

“I’ve known Kevin most of my life.” I start, my voice already beginning to shake. “He is a few years older than me and worked on my grandparent’s farm and I was head over heels for him. Like I used to follow him around as he cleaned the barns level in love because he was always so kind and sweet to me.”

Tommy just nods his head along and I continue.

“We got married right after I graduated high school and that was when he stopped being so sweet. He found he preferred cuddling a bottle of vodka at night a lot more than he liked cuddling up with me. Then, instead of hitting the bottles, he hit me.”

Tommy’s hand curls into a fist at his side and he blows hard out of his nose. “Go on” he says and I can tell he’s working on keeping his cool.

“When I found out I was pregnant the beatings stopped for a little bit. He, um, seemed really happy for a while and I really thought this was what we needed to be happy again. Boy was I wrong.” I hadn’t even realized tears were streaming down my face until I felt them hitting my trembling hands in my lap.

“He came home one night drunker than I had ever seen him and meaner than he had any right to be and just let loose on me. A neighbor heard me screaming thank god and called the cops or I might have died that night along with our baby. We come from a pretty small town so there wasn’t much help for me to leave him, most people thought it wasn’t their business. About a month later I took every last dime I had, all the clothes I could carry, and left my ring and the life I had under ‘Rebecca’ there and came to L.A.. That was about a year ago.”

I looked down to see Tommy had silently slipped his hands into mine as I was recounting the story that I had hoped to never have to explain to anybody. He rubbed his thumb against the back of my hand and took a deep breath.

“I promise you Riv, I will kill him if he so much as looks at you again.” I’m soon crushed against Tommy’s chest in a tight hug and I would be lying if I said it wasn’t the safest I had ever felt in the last year. Hell, the last few years.

“Thank you Tommy, but I don’t want you boys to get caught in the crossfire.”

“What else will you do then?” He asks quietly.

“Probably pack up and move elsewhere. Somewhere he can’t find me.”

“No.” Tommy says standing straight up. “No you can’t leave Riv we just started being friends.” He paces back and forth on the small balcony while lighting another cigarette.

“You guys are on your way to doing big shit T-Bone. I can’t get in the way of that.”

“That’s even more of a reason to let the guys and I protect you?” He says as if it’s obvious. “Besides, you’re our photographer. Who else is going to capture all the nudity on camera?”

“You know for a second there you weren’t a gross pig.” I try to not mirror Tommy’s face splitting grin, but I’m not that strong.

“Atta girl.” He bounces up and walks in my house as if he lives there and calls behind him “Come on let’s go to the diner for pancakes. My treat.” I didn’t question how he earned the money to pay this time. I knew it was rarely legal.

I double over laughing in the booth for nearly the tenth time at another story of the stupid shit Tommy has done. We’re the same age, but I can’t help but feel inferior in the life I’ve lived. Besides packing up and moving out of town to come to L.A. on a whim, I haven’t done anything exciting. Tommy has had enough experiences for two lives.

“So anyway Nikki comes up with the genius idea to stick our dicks in breakfast burritos to cover up any scent that we had just fucked these other chicks. Cause like our girlfriends couldn’t know right?” He pauses to sip his Coke and pours the rest of his Jack shooter into my coffee.

“Tommy Lee!” I scold in a hushed whisper.

“Let me finish my story. So anyway me, Sixx, and Vinnie are basically fucking these burritos in the back of my van at the ass crack of dawn to all go home to our girlfriends because Vince wanted to fuck a bride to be at her bachelorette party.” Tommy stuffs more pancakes into his shit eating grin.

“Tommy you guys are insane. How the hell am I friends with you lunatics? Mick is the least insane one and he’s hardly around.” I laugh sipping my spiked coffee wincing only a tiny bit at the burn of the whiskey.

“You just haven’t known Mick long enough. He gets crazy too.” He wags his eyebrows at me suggestively “And you get to capture those moments on film”

“Oh lucky me.” I feign excitement and he tosses a sugar packet hitting me in the face. The walk back to the apartment from the diner is filled with just as many laughs as our meal was and my cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling. Tommy has one arm slung around my shoulder while his other swings at his side besides when he takes a puff of his cigarette. Tommy is everything my parents would’ve hated to see me hanging around with, let alone being as close with him as we are now. He had long dark hair, wore make up, and the only real work ethic he had was put into his drumming (that’s not to say he didn’t have work ethic they just wouldn’t have seen it that way).

“Ya wanna know something Riv?” Tommy asks looking everywhere that isn’t at me.

“I wanna know everything at all times.” I joke and he hip checks me lightly. A grin spreads across his face and I wonder if his cheeks hurt like mine from smiling so much.

“You have huge eyes.” He says finally.

I stop in my tracks and stare at him mouth agape.

“Tommy Lee are you making fun of me?!” I shriek and he’s double over laughing at my expression.

“I’m kidding! Well kinda.” I shove at him lightly and begin to walk away, but his hand in mine stops me from leaving him to laugh on his own and we resume walking together to the apartment this time hand in hand.

“What I was actually gonna say was-” Tommy’s grip on my hand tightens and a scary look casts over his features.

I follow his line of sight to see Kevin speaking to the landlord that lived on the floor level. It looked like he hadn’t noticed us yet and I wanted to keep things that way. I tug Tommy’s hand trying to pull him up the stairs to our floor out of his line of sight.

“Oh am I interrupting date night?” I hear behind me. Busted.

“Kevin. Not now.” I hiss not wanting to draw any attention to us.

“I’m sorry did I your HUSBAND interrupt your date with your new fuck buddy?” Kevin raises his voice.

“I’m only going to tell you once dude, don’t fucking talk to her like that.” Tommy growls out between grit teeth.

“Hey nobody tells me how to talk to my fucking wife.” Kevin steps closer. Tommy doesn’t step back being that it’s hard to be intimidated by a man at least six inches shorter than you. “She left you bro. Get the fuck over it and move on.” Tommy had somehow maneuvered me behind him and positioned himself in front of me. Kevin clearly didn’t take kindly to that.

“Listen, dick head, I’m not leaving without my fucking wife. You can find someone new to fuck in a city like this. I guarantee she isn’t the only whore”

And that’s when I hear it, the sound of a fist connecting with a face and teeth clanking together. Tommy is on Kevin before I even have time to full process that a punch was thrown. Tommy had the element of surprise and uses that to his advantage to land a few good punches to Kevin’s face. Kevin’s foot connects with Tommy’s gut and gives him the opportunity to get up and land a few punches of his own.

“Guys please stop!” I’m shouting trying to get them off each other without getting hit. I know there’s nothing I can do physically so I do the only thing I can think of doing. And I scream for Nikki.

Nikki is pulling Tommy off of Kevin who looks worse for wear than I had ever seen him. Kevin’s lip is busted, he’s got a black eye forming, and there is blood coming from both a cut on the top of his nose and from his nose in general. Tommy has a small cut on his cheek, also what looks like a black eye coming, and is bleeding from somewhere inside his mouth because he spits blood on Kevin. Kevin charges at him again, but is knocked on his ass by Nikki kicking him square in the gut.

“Enough!” Nikki screams and a small part of me is scared by the sound.

I don’t bother to make sure Kevin is okay before I follow the boys up to our floor. I race into my own apartment to grab some painkillers, a washcloth, and a bag of frozen peas for Tommy. When I get into their apartment I see Tommy downing some whiskey from the bottle and he tries to smile at me and winces. I gently pluck the bottle from his hand and set it on the counter next to him. I run the washcloth under water and begin to clean the blood off his face. He hisses as I dab at the cut on his cheek and lip trying to be gentle so I don’t make the bleeding start again.

“Hey River, could you maybe not try to get my drummer killed?” Nikki jokes knocking back some of the whiskey. Tears well up in my eyes despite me knowing there’s no malice behind his words.

“I’m so sorry Tommy.” I sob tears cascading down my face.

“Hey, hey shhh” Tommy tries to console me by hugging me to him. “These things, they happen. Hang out with Sixx and I long enough and you’ll be bailing us out of jail in no time.”

“Fuck I’m surprised you haven’t already.” Nikki pipes up.

“This is all my fault if you wouldn’t have tried to stick up for me you wouldn’t have gotten hit.”

“I swung first.” He chuckles rubbing my back.

“Atta boy!” Nikki bellows and we all have a good laugh at that. “I don’t know about you guys, but I could sure use a fucking shot.” Tommy tosses back two painkillers and washes them down with a swig of whiskey offering the bottle to me.

“Fuck it.” I shrug and down two big gulps and pass the bottle to Nikki. He’s clapping me on the back while I hold the frozen peas to Tommy’s eye and pretend I can’t feel Tommy’s thumb rub tiny circles on my thigh where I’m standing between his legs. And I pretend the warmth I feel is from the alcohol and not because of the way he looks at me.

#she's my collar #mgk!tommy lee fan fic #mgk!tommy lee #douglas booth!nikki sixx #douglas booth!nikki sixx fanfic #daniel webber!vince neil fanfic #daniel webber!vince neil #iwan rheon!mick mars fanfic #iwan rheon!mick mars #the dirt fan fiction #motley crue fanfic #nikki sixx fanfic #tommy lee fanfic #vince neil fanfic #mick mars fanfic #tw: domestic abuse

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propertyofnikkisthighs · 4 years

Text

She’s My Collar pt. 1

Yes I did start a new fic while still currently working on a fic. I have no self control. I do not apologize.

Warnings: There are no warnings for this chapter currenly, but the story is going to have a lot of warnings

“Look, look, look!” The blonde to my left is suddenly shaking my shoulder pulling me out of my daydream about David Bowie.

“What?” I ask with more irritation than I intended, but she isn’t phased and points in the direction she’s looking.

“They’re back!” She giggles and I follow her finger to see the two boys grabbing dog collars off the shelf and present them to each other.

“Are those the ones you said were trying them on last week?” And as if they could hear me, the taller of the two with fluffy brown curls puts one around his neck.

“I’m gonna go talk to them. They look fun.” There’s a devilish glint in her eye and she’s practically skipping over there.

Whatever. I busy myself with my nail beds and check the clock on the wall. Only 3 hours until I was off work and could take off this stupid polo. The sound of a voice clearing gets my attention and I’m face to chest with the brown fluff ball that was just trying on dog collars.

“Are you ready to check out?” I ask lifting my eyes to his face splitting smile.

“What’s your name?” He instead replies.

“Uh what?”

“You’re not wearing a name tag.” He laughs cooly. “What’s your name?”

“River. Are you checking out or?” I trail off as I notice him digging in his back pocket for something. Pulling out a folded poster he places it in front of me.

“You should come see us play tonight.” He is bouncing on the spot as if being still for a few moments would be detrimental to his well being. “Your friend Alyssa said you guys didn’t have any other plans.”

I cut my eyes to where Alyssa is twirling her long blonde hair between her fingers chatting up the other giant whose black hair is preventing me from seeing the top half of his face.

“I don’t know.” I sigh.

“We kick major ass dude. Well we will. It’s our first show.” He’s twirling a drum stick between his fingers absentmindedly and I’m in awe at his ability to multitask since he seems to be an overgrown toddler.

“Uh. You know what.” I glance at Alyssa again and see Fluff Ball #2 headed this way. “Fuck it. We’ll be there.”

“Hey dude she said we could have these collars for free.” Black hair smirks tapping Fluff Ball #1 on the shoulder. “Let’s get back to the apartment.”

“Fucking sweet.” The bouncy one bellows and is turning to walk out the door as well.

“Wait!” I hollar after him “What are your names?”

“I’m Tommy and this is Nikki. See you later!” He yells back at me as he slips out of the door. What a weird duo.

Alyssa is illuminated on the sidewalk by the lights to the club where a small line is starting to form. She spots me and waves me down with a blinding smile cracking her face. She seems to know the bouncer and we’re in the bar quickly only receiving a few groans from the people that (rightfully) should’ve been let in before us. The inside of the bar is dark and we struggle to make it to a stool on the side closest to the stage.

“Jeez think this place ever heard of lights?” Alyssa grumbles at my side after we order our drinks.

“How else would they get women to go home with men from bars? They block their ability to see.” I giggle and we face around to the stage just as lights are kicking on.

I see Nikki make his way on stage first followed by the rest of the band. Tommy looks just as giddy as he had in the store and twirls his stick around his fingers again. The small blonde singer approaches the mic and the cockyness rolls off him in waves. Lastly an older looking man with platform boots that matched those of the men around him, entered the stage with a guitar strapped to him.

“We’re Motley Crue!” The blonde yells into the mic and Tommy beats his sticks against his cymbals. That is, until one falls down.

I can sense the embarrassment coming from the men on stage as Tommy works to get his stuff back together. There are a few scattered out “boo”’s and I’m finding myself insulted on behalf of these men that I don’t really know.

“Alright boys, let’s rock this hole!” The singer yells and the boys start to play their first song, but it’s clear that the crowd is not feeling it.

“Who’s the chick singer?” Some sasquatch at the front of the stage snorts.

“Fuck you!” The singer retorts quickly and the man spits on his expensive looking pants.

The blonde is still for a moment before he’s jumping into the crowd to hit the man. There is suddenly a ton of movement around the stage as I see Nikki lifting his bass to thrash it against someone’s head and Tommy leap into the crowd.

“What kind of show is this?” Alyssa is exclaiming eyes the size of saucers.

A man tries to rush the stage, but the older guitarist kicks him in the face and begins to strum a few chords on his guitar. That earns a chuckle from me and Alyssa whips her head to look at me as if I had jumped into the fight myself and I just shrug. Almost as quickly as the fight started it was over as bouncers and other patrons pulled apart the men. The shit disturbers are thrown out and a nervous quiet settles in the bar as the band members look around all wearing similar “what the fuck did we just do” faces.

“Fuck yeah! Motley Crue!” A man is screaming in the back of the crowd and it’s as if everyone had forgotten the past ten minutes and the boys take their positions again.

I’m making my way to the bathroom before the walk back to my apartment when I run face first into somebody’s chest.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry I wasn’t-” I’m cut off by the realization that it’s Tommy that I’ve run into again.

“Hey dude! You came!” He’s yelling and scooping me up into a hug as if we were lifelong friends.

“Where’s your friend?” Nikki speaks from behind him and I’m leaning around Tommy to try to catch a glimpse of his friend whose hair is teased to heaven.

“She already went home.” I chuckle at the small frown that graced his features. “She isn’t much for this scene.”

“Oh and you are?” A smirk replaces his frown and I’m suddenly very self conscious.

“So what did you think of the show River?” Tommy is asking excitedly directing my attention back to him.

“You guys were great. I especially liked the part where you started a brawl before your first song” Tommy snorts through his nose and is back to twirling his drum sticks.

“So we’re going to hit up this diner right around the corner if you want to go?”

“I’m actually going to go home. I open the store tomorrow and it’s late” I grimace. I do feel a little bummed that I have to be responsible.

“Aww come on Riv!” Tommy pouted giving me the biggest puppy eyes I had ever seen.

“Who’s the chick?” The blonde singer calls out strutting over to where we’ve congregated in the hallway.

“The chick has a name, and it is River.” I roll my eyes.

“She’s going to the diner with us Vince.” Nikki smirks and I cut my eyes to him angrily.

“I can’t.” I repeat.

“You could be missing out! I met Nikki at this diner man. It’s a good luck diner.” Tommy juts his lip out further in his pout and I’m agreeing to go reluctantly.

The diner with the boys was an experience to say the least. I quickly learned that to be with the boys meant you had to get comfortable with attention because if they could do anything it was draw a crowd. Not only did the boys have big hair and heels, they also had personality to match. Nikki somehow charmed the older waitress to bring him shooters of Jack, Tommy and Vince had a battle with their straws in the booth, and Mick...well Mick actually didn’t say much.

“Alright boys I need to head home” I yawned.

“Oh I’ll walk you home!” Tommy piped up taking a drag of his cigarette.

“If you really want to you can, but I live right off the strip so I’m not even far.” I shrugged.

“Oh you live off the strip too?” Tommy asked leading the way back towards the rows of bars that littered the way. “For how long?”

“The last six months. Also my apartment is coming up.”

Tommy stuttered in his steps and spun to face me.

“Up here on the left?”

“Yes, how did you know that?” I quirked an eyebrow.

“That’s where we live.”

And that’s when my life really got interesting.

#the dirt fan fiction #the dirt #mgk!tommy lee fan fic #douglas booth!nikki sixx fanfic #daniel webber!vince neil fanfic #iwan rheon!mick mars fanfic #motley crue fanfic #Motley Crue #nikki sixx fanfic #nikki sixx #tommy lee fanfic #tommy lee #vince neil fanfic #Vince Neil #mick mars fanfic #mick mars #she's my collar

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