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virtueangel · 3 years

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limitless.

chapter eighteen.

wc: 2,090. original publish date: november 12, 2020.

"Oh my god, finally," Vincent whines once JFK pulls his car into the parking lot.

"Hey, why are you complaining? I'm the one who just had to drive for three hours," JFK replies. "Besides, you could've chosen a closer destination."

Van Gogh gives Kennedy a warning glare. "Hey! No fighting today!"

John shrugs. "You started it."

Vincent takes a deep breath. "Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot." He unbuckles his seatbelt and leans across the centre console to give JFK a kiss on the lips, deep and slow.

Kennedy grins. "That's more like it."

The boys climb out of the car, and Vincent is immediately hit by a gush of icy wind. He pulls his letterman jacket tighter around himself, one hand flying up to his head to secure the bandages. His fiery orange hair dances in front of his eyes and whips him in the face. JFK smiles to himself, taking in the way the boy's freckles pop out against his flushed cheeks. He never really could deal with the cold.

"So, why'd you bring us to the ocean?" John questions, locking the car before turning back to Van Gogh. He bends an arm against his hip and holds it out to the smaller boy, who wraps his hands around his boyfriend's biceps. They step off of the concrete of the parking lot and onto the sandy beach, linked just like that.

"Because it's actually sunny today. I thought it might be nice."

JFK stifles a laugh, looking down at bundled-up Van Gogh. "And how's that working out for you?"

Vincent bats at Kennedy playfully. "Don't start with me."

JFK leads them down the beach, towards a huge, barnacled rock close to the shoreline. The sand is harder and wetter over here, which Van Gogh is grateful for. He doesn't like when the dry sand collects between the laces of his Keds. It's such a fuss to clean out and it always stains the white laces brown.

The ocean is calm, but small waves still lap at the sand. The water fizzes and leaves sea foam on the beach, bits of rocks and shells and plastic trapped in it. The waves crash in a syncopated fashion, the sound a low enough hum to fall asleep to. Vincent gazes out across the water, smiling reservedly at the view. The sun reflects off of the emerald water, and the ocean seems to last forever. He imagines walking right into the surf with his clothes and shoes on, letting the waves submerge him and pull him into the abyss. What a heavenly way to die.

"I wish I knew where my sketchbook was," he murmurs, delicate fingers still wrapped around JFK's bicep. "I don't think I'd draw this. It's too grand for that. I'd paint it."

"In your sketchbook?"

Van Gogh shrugs, eyes still taking in the ocean. "I don't have a canvas."

John grins, but not in his over-eager toothpaste model fashion. He grins in contentedness, in reservation, in affection, in... love. "I'll be your canvas."

Vincent turns to the boy, sure he's joking. "I'm sure you'd love having oil paint on your washboard abs."

JFK laughs and shakes his head. "You're probably right."

The two stand there for some minutes longer, just basking in the shimmering sun and letting their noses fill up with pleasantly salty air. It's been so long since either of them have gone to the beach. Exclamation! is a landlocked town in a landlocked state.

"Do you want to take a walk?" Kennedy whispers after a while, hesitant to break the silence.

"I think that would be okay."

They start walking, slowly. They haven't gotten very far when Vincent says, "Wait."

JFK stops. "What is it?"

Van Gogh unwraps himself from John and bends down to untie his Keds. He slides his shoes off of his feet, hopping on one foot as he takes his socks off. He balls his socks up and places them in his shoes.

"You wanna carry those...?" Kennedy starts.

Vincent shakes his head and tucks them into a split in the rock. "You wanna take off yours?"

JFK bends down to untie his sneakers. He pulls his socks off, not bothering to remove them one at a time. He doesn't care if the bottoms get dirty. He balls the socks up and shoves them into his sneakers before handing them to Van Gogh, who stacks them up next to his own shoes in the rock crevice.

They resume their walk. Vincent slides his hand down JFK's arm until it meets with the taller boy's hand, warm and rough against his small palm.

"Your fingers are so long," JFK says.

Vincent giggles nervously. "That's such an odd comment to make."

John shakes his head lightly. "It's not a bad thing."

"I like the way my hand fits in yours," Van Gogh says.

JFK smiles, his insides melting, warm and gooey like a fresh chocolate chip cookie. "Good, because I like the way your hand fits into mine."

Vinnie speaks after a while, the fizz of the sea foamy waves suddenly deafening in the silence. "Can I ask you something?"

"Okay."

Van Gogh takes a deep breath, letting the rise and fall of his chest soothe him. "What's your favourite thing about me?"

Jack grins. "My favourite thing about you?"

Vincent nods.

JFK goes silent, taking a moment to think before answering. "There isn't just one thing."

"You can give me more than one," Van Gogh says, hoping he doesn't sound too hopeful as his mouth pulls into a giddy smile.

"I like the way you look in the mornings, when I wake up and you're still asleep. I like the way your hair falls over your eyes and the way the t-shirt you sleep in is too big for you and the sleeves go all the way down to your elbows. I like the way your cheeks flush pink in the cold, and I like the way you tie your shoelaces. I like the way you can focus so hard on the book you're reading that you don't even notice the world around you. It's like your book is your world. I wish I could do that. Fall into something, the way you do."

"It gets boring after awhile," Vincent offers. "Or sometimes I get too lost and it's jarring when you say my name."

"Well," JFK starts. "I'm sorry."

"Is that it?" Van Gogh asks after a second. "Those are all the things you like about me?"

JFK smiles. He opens his mouth and closes it, trying words out on his tongue before saying them out loud. "I like watching you when you pick at your nails. I know you probably don't mean to do it, but... I don't know. I guess there's this fluidity about it. Your fingernails are so healthy and long, it's just... god, I don't know. This is kind of embarrassing." The taller boy laughs at himself, his cheeks turning pink.

Gogh blushes. "You can keep going, if you want to."

John laughs goodheartedly, but intends to continue nonetheless. He's not done. He won't be done for a while. Every thought he's ever had about Van Gogh rushes back into his head -- they've been best friends since they were in grade school. But they were never really just friends, were they? All those Friday nights that JFK would spend at the boy's house keeping him company while his parents were away; all those times Vincent would call him in the middle of the night, begging him to come over because he couldn't fall asleep in an empty house and how JFK would always going over, no matter how late it was -- none of that is something just friends do. He thinks about every time Vincent's gaze would linger on him a split second longer than normal and how he always pretended not to notice. He thinks about how Vincent's is the only contact in his phone that is a nickname followed by a string of emojis instead of a mundane first and last name. He thinks about how he took books off of Vincent's bookshelf without asking just because he wanted to read the same words the boy had, just because he wanted to know his fingers were grazing over spines that Vincent's had. He thinks about the times he'd let Vincent paint his nails, about the times he'd let Vincent pick out his outfits for school. How both of them had thought their relationship was a friendship that everyone had -- how they'd neglected to pick up on the signs that everyone else had noticed long ago.

"I like the way you wear a yellow raincoat and matching rain boots when it's wet outside. I like the way you always put the pillows on your bed in the same arrangement, and I like the way you dance to music even when it's playing through your earbuds. I like the way you mouth the words to the book you're reading when you're concentrating really hard. I like the way you hold your pencil when you're drawing, like it'll float away if you loosen your grip even a little bit. I like the way you bend over when you're writing -- really writing -- with one elbow bent on the table and your fingers threaded through your hair. I like the way you actually use one of those little plastic hourglasses with the yellow sand in it to time yourself while you're brushing your teeth. I like the way you're the only person I know who actually brushes their teeth for two minutes."

This last part earns a stifled laugh from Van Gogh.

"But most of all, I like the way that you sing along to music in the car, how you keep your voice low because you don't want me to hear you but of course I still can anyway."

"Do I sound horrible?"

JFK shakes his head. "No."

Van Gogh smiles, looking away. He's never felt like this before, like... he's exactly where he's supposed to be. He isn't worried about being left alone on Friday nights, or insecure about the way he constantly reorganises his bedroom. For once in his life, he doesn't feel uncomfortable or like he needs to run away. He wants to fall, fall into JFK, and he doesn't need a rope for security.

"The ocean is freezing cold," Vincent says, because that's the only sentence he can reach for.

Kennedy grins and slides his arms out of his letterman jacket. He pulls his red and white striped sweater over his head next before unzipping his khakis. He stands in front of Vincent wearing only his white t-shirt and underwear. Vincent sighs and takes off his own layers until his outfit matches JFK's, and they walk into the surf, hand in hand.

"Jesus fuck, Jack," Vincent exclaims, a salty wave pushing into his thighs.

JFK wraps his arms around Vincent, pulling the boy close. Van Gogh buries his face in John's t-shirt, now soaked and smelling of salt. He doesn't mind, though. He'll take whatever warmth he can get.

Kennedy rests his chin on Van Gogh's head, kissing the boy's bandage every once in a while. He shivers a little bit, but he ignores the cold setting into his skin. He pulls Vincent closer, and the boy wraps his arms around JFK's midsection. John gazes out across the water as Van Gogh shuts his eyes against his boyfriend's chest.

The world is silent except for the calm lapping of the waves and the fizzing of the sea foam. Except for the temperature of the water, it is perfect -- no freights honking in the distance, no seagulls screeching overhead. Vincent slides his hands underneath JFK's shirt, feeling the warmth radiating off the skin of his back. His pale legs turn even paler as they erupt in goosebumps, but there's nowhere he'd rather be.

JFK lets out a low laugh from his throat, and Vincent draws back from his chest.

"What?" He asks, looking up at the boy.

John's face falls soft, and his bottom lip surrenders to the faintest trace of a quiver. "I'm in love with you."

Van Gogh shifts his bodyweight and leans back, curving his chin up so his mouth meets JFK's. They share a kiss, deep and slow, the salty ocean burning their bare thighs.

"I was hoping you might be."

It's the closest thing to I love you that he's ever given anyone.

#limitless.#clone high #clone high jfk #clone high van gogh #jfgogh

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shhh-no-ones-home · 4 years

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by your side vinny mauro x reader

+++++++++ Request from @young-hearts-world : "Hii, I was thinking about a little something about reader being an over thinker and maybe quarantine time wasn't the best to help with it and maybe Vinny, being the softy we all know he is, being there for them"

thank you so much for trusting me with your request it means a lot. and thank you @buryallyourbones for suggesting this to me. it was kind of relieving in a way so thank you both. i hope you like it.

Song: crazy by gnarls barkley covered by daniela andrade

tag list: @musicsexandpizza69 @svintsandghosts @alilpunkrock @cynic-spirit @theoneandonlykymberlee @joeybarber @ryansitkowskiswifey @thisplace-ishaunted +++++++++

i typed relentlessly on my computer trying to get a little ounce of homework done for the night. i had been overthinking again about classes as well as the job i had just lost. not only that but my mind was racing with the relentlessness that would be my bills coming in the mail. it was making everything harder and i wished i could be one of those facebook people that made art for fun or just did stuff cause they had time now. oh how were they not filled with the existential dread of being home for so long? i was practically going mad. i think vinny was even beginning to think id lost it.

i sighed heavily, closing my eyes and dropping my head against the back of the couch. i sat in silence for a second, vin scrolling down his phone next to me with his headphones in. i breathed deeply before looking back down at my computer in my lap. i had about twelve tabs open, each one holding something different. about half of them were utilities i knew would be paid late, the other half being the homework i so desperately needed to finish and turn in. i clicked through each of them before closing them one by one. vinny shifted next to me, drawing my attention. he looked at me like id caught him doing something bad and pulled a earbud out.

"everything okay?"

he asked lightheartedly. i shrugged before slapping my laptop shut and pushing onto the couch between us. he raised a brow.

"would a kiss make it better?"

he asked in a baby voice, leaning over and fake pouting at me. normally i would laugh and play back but i really wasnt in the mood.

"no."

i said nonchalantly and he frowned.

"why not?"

he asked a little hurt, leaning closer.

"just dont, im not in the mood right now."

i said sternly, making him draw his brows together.

"come on babe."

he said, resting his head back on the couch next to mine. i sent him an annoyed look.

"i said no vin."

i looked ahead of us at the blank tv, the black screen staring back at me. i felt the couch shift and when i looked over at him we were nose to nose. i blinked at him slowly. he knew he was getting on my last nerve.

"will you just get out of my face?"

I said angrily at Vinny, standing off the couch quickly, leaving him there by himself. i rolled my eyes at him before stepping over his legs and stomping into the kitchen. i sighed as I leaned into the counter. I looked up and rolled my eyes again as he came in through the doorway after me.

"Whats the deal?"

He asked, brow raised. I rubbed my face with my hands, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"I'm sorry I guess I'm just agitated. We can't leave, we don't know what's going on and my anxiety is through the roof. not to mention without work i have no money for bills and my college professors have ridiculous standards."

I dropped my hand and sent him a sorrowful look.

"I'm just tired. Of all of it."

He held his hand out as he walked to me, taking both my hands in his.

"Look, I know you get in your own head sometimes but maybe this is the best time for us to just chill."

my eyes got wide, clearly he wasnt a mind reader.

"how am i supposed to chill when i have so much to do?!"

he shook his head at me.

"surely you have some free time, maybe weekends? i know your class schedule cant be that busy even with the homework."

i wiggled my hand out of his placed it gently against my face again and just held it there, thinking.

"i dont know, its so hard to focus on anything right now. like i know ill get through this, i always do but its so hard."

he took my hand away from my face and intertwined our fingers.

"just think, you take at least friday night and saturday off and You can finally get to all those other things that youve been meaning to get to. like that painting you started before all this happened. its so pretty, id love to finally see it finished."

he gushed. I looked down and half frowned.

"How can I relax when I know there's all this bullshit going on outside? The thought alone has been making it hard to sleep at night."

He let go of my hands and wrapped his arms loosely around my waist.

"I know baby, I do sleep next to you after all. It makes me feel bad when I fall asleep and you're still awake, staring at the ceiling until all hours of the night."

i looked up at him amused as he cracked a small smile.

"we can get through this together. ill help you keep your schedule, help with your homework if you need, and sit with you while you do things that you love. and if need be i will make dinner every night of the week just so you have an excuse to stop what you are doing and focus on your health for even an hour."

i smiled back at him before leaning in a kissing him softly.

"thank you vin, i dont know what i would do without you."

he side nodded.

"probably freaking out."

we both laughed.

"oh im still doing that, you just make it a little more tame."

i said pushing some of his hair behind his ear.

"sometimes its better to just trust the system."

i nodded.

"i think youre right."

he squeezed me tighter, bringing me in for a hug and swaying back and forth.

"i love you baby."

he said softly into my ear as we danced to a music-less house.

"i love you too vin, and thanks."

#wattpad #x reader #one shots #imagines #request #miw #vinny mauro #Vincenzo Mauro #vinchenzo mauro #238

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mickmarstookmyheart · 4 years

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"Would you be my date?"

Pairing: Mick Mars X Reader

Summary: You are working for the Crüe as a make up artist. There is an upcoming wedding...

"Hold still, damnit!" You murmured trying to finish Vince's makeup just before the concert.

"Oh, come on, (Y/N)! Hurry up!" He pouted closing his eyes to let you do your job.

"If I hurry you won't be pretty."

"There is no such thing as me not being pretty."

"Sure." You said drawing back and looking at him, admiring the make-up you did. Though you didn't understand why you had to make Vinnie look like a girl and put on him pink colors. He stood up and looked in the mirror to see himself.

"Cool. Thanks (Y/N)!" He yelled while leaving the area. Working with them consumed most of your time, but it didn't bother. Even if they were sometimes pain in the ass they were all kind and funny. They treated you well, they never hurt you. You have been working for them since the 'Bark at the moon' tour with Ozzy.

"Break legs!" You yelled back looking at the mess on the table. Makeup everywhere including on your hand and shirt. Since you were ready with all of them you decided to change clothes. You quickly took off your shirt to change it to a cleaner one.

Mick was walking in the hallway already in his costume. He wanted to ask you to adjust his makeup due to the clothing had ruined it a bit. He opened the door and gasped seeing you there without a shirt. When you heard the door cracking you gasped. You looked at him with a red face covering yourself with your tee.

"Omg, I'm so sorry." He blushed and quickly closed the door back, standing in the corridor with his back facing the door. He covered his mouth with a hand. You were embarrassed, standing in the room now with your shirt on. You and Mick were kinda okay, you hardly had any fights. The others were always flirting with you even though you had a crush on Mick. And he, seeing you like this just made your heart pound fast. Mick was about to leave when you opened the door for him.

"Look, (Y/N), I didn't know. I'm sorry. I didn't see a lot, I promise." Mick said wishing he could see more.

"No problem, I should've locked the door. What's up? Is there a problem?" You asked putting your hands in your pocket to hide your still shaking hands.

"Umm, I think my costume ruined my face a bit. Can you fix it, please?" You nodded and invited him in. He sat down so you could see the damage.

"A minute and you will be ready to kick some ass." You said while taking the brush in your hand. You managed to relax but being this close to him. You could feel his breath and smell his scent. Mick also had some problems...Your light touch on his face and everything about you. "Done." You announced and put the brush back to its place. Mick leaned closer to the mirror to see your perfect work.

"Now it's perfect. Thanks. And sorry about earlier." He rubbed the back of his head.

"Chill. Nothing happened." You said it rather to yourself. "Anyway, here is your shirt." He picked it up from the floor you dropped it earlier. He tossed it to you and you caught it easily.

Nikki, Vince, and Tommy were standing in the corner and were leaning on the door to hear what you were doing in there.

"Shirt, huh?" Vince grinned. "I told you something was up between them."

"Are you sure, Vinnie? We just only heard the word shirt. It could mean anything."

"I hope they are together. They would look cute." Tommy said smiling. Vince turned to him raising one of his eyebrows.

"They don't look cute. And I can't believe she chose Mick over me. She can be with me or anyone else, but not that old man." Vince put his head closer to the door when Mick opened the door and they all fell on Mick and you.

"What the fuck, man?" You cursed rubbing your head. Mick was laying on the top of you and the boys on your leg.

"Nice sock!" Vince said earning a kick in his arm from you.

"Get off me! And what were you all doing?" You asked still under the weight of the guitarist. He supported himself on his elbows not to press you any more. He was facing you. You cleared your throat and he rolled over. You stood up and crossed your arms.

"We were...we were just..." Nikki said looking at Tommy to help him out.

"We made sure that all the doors were soundproof so we can also fuck groupies back here after the concert," Vince said being proud of himself.

"Yeah, of course. Sounds believable." You hummed.

"There you are. Guys, it's time to go!" Doc yelled pointing at his watch. After the band and Doc left the room except for Mick, you sighed and sat down in the chair.

"(Y/N), I would like to apologize.." Mick started.

"Hey, it's not your fault." You said rubbing your wrist. It hurt a little bit is was nothing you couldn't handle.

"Did you hit your arm?" Mick noticed. He knew how it was being in pain.

"A bit. But I'm okay. Don't worry." You winked.

"Are you free tomorrow?" Mick asked finally gathering the courage after months. You blinked from the sudden question.

"What?" You asked maybe you didn't hear it properly.

"Do you want to have coffee tomorrow? I would like to make up the things that happened today."

"Yeah, sure. I mean, why not?" You mumbled still not believing Mick just asked a date from you. Well, it was a date, no?

"Great. See you tomorrow then." He headed towards the door before giving you a half-smile.

"I think I will stay until the concert goes down. So go and have fun." You smirked and followed him.

Next day

"Can I have a week off, Boss?" You asked Doc sitting in his temporary office. You showed him your wrist which was swollen and was covered with a bandage.

"That looks bad. But don't worry, Anna can do it for you."

"Thanks."

"And what happened?" He asked reading his papers.

"Well, it would be complicated to explain but in a nutshell, I fell on my wrist."

"Complicated to explain?" He glanced at you with a confused look.

"Mick fell on me." Doc's eyes widened. "No, it's not that. The boys fell on Mick and then on me."

"What?" He was in complete shock.

"Don't think any wrong. The boys were eavesdropping us but then Mick opened the door."

"Whatever." You could see that he didn't believe you. "Anything else?"

"I think I should go. And thanks, Doc!" You said before exiting the room. You felt embarrassed, but nothing wrong happened. The whole situation was odd.

∆

"Nice job, idiots. You managed to ruin (Y/N)'s job." Mick snapped after seeing your hand.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N). It wasn't our intention." Tommy apologized.

"It's okay. Doc said that Anna will hop in until I recover so I didn't lose my job, I just got a week off." You said.

"Well, I'm glad you can rest a bit." Mick stated. Vince was narrowing his eye and was looking at you and Mick.

"Is everything alright, Vinnie?" You asked.

"No."

"Care to explain?"

"Nope." Your brows drew together. Then he left huffing. What the fuck was with him?

"Anyway, guys I have good news." Tommy cheered. "I proposed to Heather."

"Tommy, that's great. Congrats" You said hugging him.

"She is a great girl, T-Bone! Congratulations!" Nikki said patting the drummer's back.

"Thanks, guys. I still couldn't believe she said yes. Anyway, Sixx, you are my best man and you are all invited!" He yelled.

"What do you mean by all?" You asked.

"Why?" He asked confused.

"You mean that I'm invited, too?"

"Of course, you will do Heather's make up." You pouted. "Just kidding. It's not even a question, (Y/N)! Don't be stupid." He said giving you a big hug.

"Thanks, Tommy." You smiled. You didn't think he would invite you as well. You were just a makeup artist working for the band, after all. Not some musician or family.

∆

You and Mick were sitting in a lovely café near the hotel. There was hardly anyone there so it was pretty quiet.

"Jimmy Hendrix or Angus Young?"

"Jimmy Hendrix. Not even a question." Mick said taking a sip from his coffee.

"But you have to admit Angus's riffs are pretty good, too."

"I didn't say that he isn't good."

"So how this guitar thing come to your life?" You asked wrapping your healthy hand around the hot cup.

"Well, when I was a child I got a guitar from Christmas with Mickey Mouse on it. Since then I couldn't separate myself from it. The guitar became an important part of me and vice versa."

"So that's were 'Mick' comes from?" You asked chuckling. He rolled his eyes but then his lips curved into a smile.

"Partly, yes. But don't tell those assholes. They would call me that from now on."

"Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me." You were looking at each other's eyes for a moment. Mick cleared his throat and you could see he was about to say something.

"Nice weather, right?" He asked. That's not the question you were thinking of.

"I like the rain." You said looking out of the window and watching all the drops running down the window. It was calming to be there, to drink coffee and have a nice talk with him. When you put down the cup you put your hand on your bandaged wrist.

"Does your wrist hurt?"

"No. And I have already told you not to worry about it." You sighed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be harsh like that.

"Can I ask something?" Mick felt his heart racing, he tried his best to calm down. You nodded and glanced at him waiting for the question. "Would you be my date? For Tommy's wedding." He bit his lip down.

"What? I mean, don't you have a girlfriend to bring?" Your heart skipped a beat. You didn't know much about his personal life but you were sure he had someone. After all, it was just an apologizing talk, not a real date.

"Not really." He smirked and looked out of the window. You gulped, you were in shock, not believing he didn't have a girlfriend.

"Why me?" You whispered.

"Cause you are great. You are super talented, kind, and funny. You are always so insecure about yourself but you are amazing." Mick said holding your hand in his.

"Really?" You sniffed. In your whole life, in school and even at home you were told that you are nothing and you are worthless. You knew it wasn't completely true, but it still affected your life.

"See? That's what I'm talking about. Be confident because you have every right." He smiled squeezing your hand.

"Then, I would be glad to go with you." You said shyly.

Tag: @leatherandheels

This wasn't what I originally planned and I think it sucks but here it is. Also, sorry guys for not doing anything lately, I just had an almost week-long headache and I stayed away from my phone for a bit.

By the way, I'm gonna take request from next week so hit me with your requests, desires!

Be safe, be happy!

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

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ladyreapermc · 4 years

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Fic: Hanging by a Moment (Jack Traven x Fem!Reader)

Summary: For a long time you had a crush on Jack and before you could do anything about it, he met Annie. Now, two years later, maybe you two have a second chance.

Author’s notes: so this was requested by @takimamplanbingo. I’m so sorry it took so long to post it. Hope you enjoy it. Also, in my head, this is sort of a prequel to Stimulus Equivalence

Wordcount: 3185

Warnings: lots of fluff. A tiny bit of angst.

When the small chime above the coffee shop door rang you didn’t look up. It was weird no longer feeling obliged to do so, but you haven’t worked there in two months, so it was about time you got used to being a customer and not the barista.

Weirdly enough, you kind of missed it. It was a job that you didn’t have to be constantly thinking. After the first six months, your hands seemed to know the process of every coffee order in the menu and, while your mind wandered, your fingers worked the levers of the espresso machine, making the brewing magic happen for your next satisfied customer.

You also missed meeting all kinds of new people every day. People coming in for their breakfast orders or in need of a pick me up after a long night of partying. You missed the regular customers that knew your name and seemed as interested in your own story as they were in to share theirs.

You missed the small talk and the friends you made and that was why you started coming over every day, commandeering a table so you could study for cases or write for your thesis. It was a way for you to hang out with friends at the coffee shop and see old acquaintances. Besides, the café was right across the street from the clinic were doing your internship, the coffee was infinitely better there than at the library and Vinnie always gave you a discount on the pastries.

It was the perfect place for you. You could get lost on your work because everyone knew you would call if you needed anything and the idle chatter around you worked like white noise for you, helping you concentrate and sometimes you got so lost in your own little world that people needed to call your name a couple of times to catch your attention.

He didn’t. He said it once in that familiar baritone and your head snapped up, your heart hitting your throat as you came face to face with Jack Traven.

How long had it been since you last saw him? Maybe a year and a half? Maybe more? You weren’t sure. Even since you stopped taking the morning shift when you still worked at the café because you had classes at that time. The glamorous life of a Ph.D. candidate.

“Hi,” you said dumbly just staring at him.

In the time you hadn’t seen him, Jack had grown out his hair, so instead of his usual buzzcut, he was actually spotting a nice mane of black hair that suited him perfectly. His sense of fashion hadn’t changed at all though. He was still favoring those unbelievably tight jeans and white t-shirts, topped over by button-downs of the ugliest prints.

He still looked like a dream. Those broad shoulders stretching his shirts, along with his strong chest and bulging biceps. His face full of that boyish charm of a guy still settling into his own skin as he approached his thirties.

Jack was one of the handsome men you had ever met as well as one of the nicest and sweetest, which explained why the silence lingered as you stared at him. Even after all this time, Jack was still able to render you speechless by just being in the same room with you.

“It’s been a while,” he finally said, noticing that you were stuck without words. “May I?” he gestured at the seat across from you and you nodded.

Once again, the two of you just stared at each other, wordlessly until Jack let out a small chuckle, spotting that familiar sort of shy grin of his and your heart leaped. Almost two years later and your crush hadn’t abated. Just hibernated in the time you didn’t see him.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, once again breaking the silence. “Vinnie can never get my coffee order right.”

“I heard that!” the older man called from behind the counter, sending Jack a mock dirty look and you chuckled, shaking your head.

“How have you been?” Jack asked, ignoring Vinnie’s teasing.

“Good.” You nodded, glancing at the mess of papers and books surrounding you. “Busy.”

“That’s good,” replied and once again silence stretched between the two of you, heavy and weird as you racked your brain thinking on something to say.

It used to be so easy before. The conversation flowed, so did the banter and the flirting. You always had a teasing remark for Jack, which he replied with a grin and equal amounts of teasing. It was no secret you had a crush on him and everyone in the café seemed to think it was mutual. And it probably was until everything changed.

The door chimed rang again as you got lost in your own thoughts and memories, bringing you back to that day two years ago. You had been anxious from the second you stepped inside the coffee shop because you hadn’t been in all of last week, so you hadn’t seen Jack for that long.

It wasn’t that you were waiting for him exactly, but you kinda wanted to see him with your own eyes, make sure Jack was fine after the close call he had with the bomber in the elevator. You knew he wasn’t harmed. Not like his partner that ended up with a bullet on his leg, but still, you want to see him.

You would look up every time the chime rang, but this time, when it did you met a pair of familiar warm brown eyes and a wide smile that had you smiling too.

“Look who it is! The man of the hour!” Vinnie shouted, making everyone look over and Jack ducked his head with a shy smile. “Jack, my man! You’re a hero, I heard.”

“I’m no hero,” he said with a shrug as Vinnie busied himself setting Jack muffin on the counter before turning to make his latte. “Just doing my job.”

The two of you shared a look as Jack walked up to the register where you were. He took out his wallet and you just waved him off.

“On the house today,” you said with a smile. “For doing your job.”

“Thanks,” he replied, smiling too and for a moment you two just stared at each other, before someone behind Jack cleared their throat and he had to move away, letting you go back to work.

Even though your gaze was on the customer in front of you, your attention was at the easy banter happening between Vinnie, Jack, and Bob, the bus driver that usually came in at the same time as Jack.

You heard Vinnie quipping about some party and Jack’s good-naturedly reply:

“Can’t have been that good. I woke up alone.” You couldn’t help but look over then, catching him looking at you, his gaze full of meaning.

“That’s because you can’t get your head out of your ass and asked the girl out!” Bob joked on his way out, making both you and Jack blush as both realized you’ve been just staring at each other for the last minute or two.

You looked away quickly, trying to go back to work, but you could still feel eyes on you. His eyes.

“He’s right, you know?” Jack’s voice was surprisingly close and you looked over, startled to see him at the register again, watching you with a hesitant smile. “Go out with me? Tonight?”

“Pick me up at seven?” you asked, smiling too and Jack nodded, before grabbing his coffee and muffin and calling out a quick goodbye to Vinnie before stepping out.

That date never happened though and you shook yourself from your reveries, focusing back on the Jack in front of you and not the one from your memories.

“And, how are you?” you finally asked, fidgeting with the pencil in your hand. “Still with SWAT?”

“I’m doing, alright,” Jack nodded, peering at you. “Still with SWAT. It’s what I’m good at.”

And he was. You knew. What he did that day with the bus and the bomber, it wasn’t something most people could do. Or even would do. Leave it to you to fall in love with an actual hero.

“I should get going,” he finally said, getting up. “But it was nice to see you.”

“You too,” you nodded standing up to say your goodbye. The hug you shared was awkward and hesitant, but his scent lingered on you long after Jack was gone.

You thought it would be a one-time thing, seeing Jack at the café again. You usually came later in the day when your classes were done or after a shift at the clinic and you knew Jack would usually stop by on his way to work.

Only on the following week, there Jack was again, on the same day, around the same time. He only waved at you this time around, picking up his coffee and heading off. Next week the same thing happened. And then the next.

In the fourth week, you changed tables, sitting at the one right by the window and watched as Jack came out of the building across the street, heading straight for the coffee shop. That was when you knew.

When Jack came in, you invited him to join you, offering a seat at your table. Once again, the silence lingered between the two of you, awkward and stilled until your gaze flickered at the clinic and Jack looked over too, letting out a relieved sigh.

“So, you know.”

“Yeah. Nothing wrong with it, you know?” you commented, giving him an encouraging smile and Jack nodded, gaze on his coffee. “What made you decide to start?”

“A case.” His voice was low, stilled. “A bomber. It brought back memories and…” Jack looked up, forcing a smile. “Can we not talk about it? I just spent the last hour doing just that.”

“Of course,” you assured.

You raked your brain trying to come up with something to say. Something to ease the worried lines of Jack’s face and the tension in his shoulders. So, you settled on your default. You babbled about your thesis. It seemed to be the right thing to do because you could see Jack visibly relaxing, his lips drawing into a little smile as he listened to you, one hand on his chin, brown eyes tuned to your every movement.

And so, your new routine started. Every Tuesday afternoon, like clockwork, Jack would come out of therapy and sit with you, talk about everything and nothing. Conversation became easy and natural again, so did the banter and it was as if nothing had ever changed between the two of you. Like the last two years didn’t happen.

Except they did and in the back of your head a little voice kept pushing you to ask that question and finally clear your last doubt, but every time you remembered that day, the one after the whole bombing on the bus thing. After you spent an entire day fretting over his wellbeing, wondering if Jack had come out alive from that case.

The day he walked into the coffee shop still covered in bruises and cuts, holding hands with Annie.

The worst thing was that you couldn’t even fault Jack for falling for her. They had shared something that you couldn’t even begin to understand, and she was smart and funny and beautiful. They made a lovely couple.

You could tell the second Jack remembered that he had asked you out the day before. He froze in place, his expression a mask of embarrassment as he met your eyes.

You hated the fact that you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him, not even when he pulled you aside, out of sight from the rest of the customers, his face pleading and regretful.

“I’m so sorry. I just…” he looked back at where Annie was sitting, drinking her coffee, laughing at something Vinnie said.

“It’s ok,” you interrupted, your eyes burning as you force yourself not to cry. “I’m glad you’re safe, Jack.”

You kissed his cheek then, before moving back behind the counter and making sure not to look his way until he was gone.

Now the nagging doubt remained with you. Where was Annie? He hadn’t mentioned once in all the times you two had met and talked. You felt weird about asking, but you were dying to know. Because you didn’t want to get your hopes up. Not again. Not after last time.

“She moved back to Arizona,” Jack said suddenly at one of your weekly meets, startling you. “Annie. Got a great job offer and she would be closer to her family…” he drummed on the table, a sad smile gracing his lips. “I guess we always knew it wouldn’t last.”

“Why do you say that?” you asked.

“Relationships based on intense situations never do,” he replied, smiling again as if remembering an inside joke and you couldn’t bring yourself to ask. “Anyway, I thought you should know since you’ve been working up the nerve to ask me for the past couple of months.”

There it was again, the grin, this time with just a hint of smugness, and that familiar twinkle in his brown eyes. It made you chuckle, heat rising to your cheeks as you sneaked a glance at him.

“That obvious?” you asked, and Jack just shrugged.

“Maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part,” he said, sipping his coffee. “But anyway, now you know.”

“Now I know,” you nodded, pausing as you contemplated your next words. “There’s no one either,” you declared, meeting his eyes. “In my life, I mean. Romantically speaking.”

“Really?” Jack actually looked surprised. “Guys in your grad-school stupid or blind?”

“I don’t know,” you replied with a chuckle and you missed this. The flirting. “Maybe.”

“Lucky me then,” he said, his smile widening as he got up from his seat signaling it was time for him to go and you couldn’t hide your disappointment. “I’m not blind or stupid.”

You weren’t expecting to see Jack the very next day. Especially not before you even arrived at the café and already taking control of your usual table, a wide, but hesitant smile slipping on his face when you walked in.

“I have the day off,” he announced as soon as you were close enough.

“That’s nice,” you replied, noticing he had a basket with him. “Big plans then?”

“Yes. For both of us.”

“Us?” you repeated dumbly. “I can’t Jack, I have so much to do…” Even though you were verbally protesting, when he took your hand and guided you back out of the café, you didn’t think about struggling or asking him to stop.

“You can take one day,” he declared, pulling the passenger door of his car open for you. “Your thesis will still be there tomorrow.”

He did have a point, of course. Jack had that annoying habit of being frequently right. More frequently than you liked to admit. With a sigh that was more for show than anything, you climbed on his Bronco, throwing your overstuffed backpack on the backseat and turning on the radio as Jack pulled into traffic, taking the familiar route to Griffith Park.

It was a lovely day for a picnic. The weather was nice, the sky bright blue with barely any clouds and as the two of you sat on a spot of green grass overlooking the city skyline and enjoying the pastries Jack got from Vinnie’s coffee shop, you couldn’t help but feel like this was a perfect date.

Except you didn’t want to assume and Jack didn’t say anything either. Not while you were up there, not in the drive to drop you off at home late at night. He actually walked you to your door. Because you needed even more evidence, he was perfect.

“I had a great time,” you declared, hand on your doorknob as you watched Jack. “Thank you. I really needed that day off.”

“Yeah, me too.” Jack smiled at you, his gaze seeking yours for a second before he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Is tomorrow night too early for a second date?”

You grinned at him, your heart skipping a beat at that confirmation. It was all you needed.

“No,” you said with a head shake. “Tomorrow sounds perfect for a second date.”

“Pick you up at seven, then.”

“No bombs this time, please,” you joked, hoping you weren’t crossing a line. But Jack just chuckled, walking backward to his car.

“I’ll do my best.” He winked at you before he got into his Bronco and drove off.

You were a pile of nerves on the next night because it had been a while since you’ve been on a date and especially with someone you liked as much as you liked Jack. You fretted over your clothes, your hair, your makeup… You knew you were driving your roommate crazy, but you just couldn’t help yourself. It was Jack.

At ten to seven, you were ready and waiting, watching out of the window as the minutes ticked by without any sign of Jack. Seven came and went and he didn’t show up. Your chest filled with dread and panic. You flipped through the channels, expecting to see him in yet another dangerous, life-threatening situation but if it was happening, the press hadn’t caught wind of it just yet.

You paced your living-room, resisting the urge of calling precincts, find out what happened because half-hour had gone by and Jack still hadn’t shown up or sent any kind of word and it was driving you insane.

You made up crazy scenarios in your head: another bomber; a sniper, a hostage situation gone wrong. In all of them, Jack was hurt or dead and before you knew it, your mascara was ruined because you couldn’t stop the tears.

So lost in your own horrifying thoughts, you didn’t hear the doorbell or your roommate opening the door. You only heard the way Jack called out your name. You turned around to look, part of you wondering if you were dreaming.

He was filthy. His blue dress shirt smeared with grease, as well as his cheek and you could see there was a rip on his trousers. But all in all, Jack was completely fine, not a bruise or a cut.

“I had a flat,” he explained with an apologetic smile.

Before he could say anything else, apologize or explain any further, you were in his arms, hugging him and all but smashing your lips against his. Jack tugged you close to his body, holding you tight, his lips fitting perfectly against yours for a kiss that tasted like relief and longing.

You didn’t care if he was getting grease all over your dress. You didn’t care that you had lost the dinner reservations in the restaurant you’ve been dying to meet. You just cared that Jack was there. Safe and sound and with you. That was all the mattered.

xxx

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punny-alien · 3 years

Text

WIP: Ulalume

ulalume: story about abuse and recognizing that you can’t fix everyone.

Mikhail wandered up the stairs, marveling at how much taller they seemed than what he could see from the ground. The occasional glass panes of the stairwell let him glance over at the crowd of people below. He texted another quick, “I love you, Morana” and stepped through the wooden doors at the end of the short hallway, stuffing his phone in his pocket.

He gasped softly as he stopped on the balcony, looking over the pretty gardens behind the hotel. The bright light coming from whatever was left of the moon shone across the little ponds in the grass, occasionally reflecting rainbows of colors off of the crystal balls that floated in the water. The ducks were long asleep, but he could still hear the pleasant rhythm of the crickets. Mikhail sat down in one of the seats and stared, mesmerized.

“Mind if I sit next to you?” A soft voice startled him out of his thoughts a few minutes later. Luca watched him carefully from his spot against the door.

“It’s fine,” he finally mumbled. It was awkward seeing him again after so long. He avoided his gaze as he sat down.

“Morana’s not here, right?” Luca asked. Mikhail shook his head. “So don’t act like she is.”

He gave him a hesitant look. “What do you mean?”

“She doesn’t like your drawings. I know that’s why you didn’t answer me after our meeting.” Luca leaned into his hand. “She doesn’t like me either, does she?”

Mikhail slowly relaxed, feeling guilty as he slowly took in Luca’s words. “It.. it’s not you.”

“So why did she make you stop?”

“It’s more…” Mikhail sighed. “If I don’t pay enough attention to her, she could get lonely and hurt herself. It’s better if I don’t have any distractions.”

“I’m a distraction?” he asked, amused.

“No! I mean, not a bad one. You’re…” Pretty. The word seemed to pop into his mind of its own will, but his face burned in embarrassment. It had to be the stress getting to him. There was absolutely no way he was going to fall for someone else when he already had Morana, who, despite her moments, loved him dearly, or at least she said she did. Besides that, Luca was definitely not his type. He was too quiet, too serious, too perceptive, and it was way too easy to get lost in his eyes when they talked-

“Misha?” Luca nudged him gently. “I was just messing with you. Sorry if I-“

“Don’t apologize. It was definitely my fault for letting my guard down in front of her,” Mikhail sighed. “I’m sorry if I screwed anything up for you after that whole situation.”

“I don’t care about that. I was worried about you, Mikhail. I’ve got a bad feeling about Morana, and I don’t like the way she acts like your whole world has to revolve around her.”

He scowled. “She doesn’t act like that. She’s just been through some tough spots on her life, and support is really important for her. She’s working on being less dependent.”

Luca stayed silent, but Mikhail could see the way he clenched his jaw. “Why do you keep talking to me?” Mikhail asked after a while.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m not exactly good company. We don’t have much in common, either. And you’ve made it clear that you hate Morana.”

“Who told you that? You’re plenty good company. Do you want me to stop?”

Despite everything screaming at him to say “YES”, Mikhail couldn't help but listen to his soft voice and study the way Luca leaned into his palm, getting lost in the tired eyes that stared up at him with a strange kind of affection he wasn’t used to. Everything about Luca made him feel so comfortable, and that was strange and wrong. Morana wouldn’t like him being so close to someone else, especially an attractive someone who couldn’t stand her. If she saw him now, she would get terribly upset, maybe even hurt herself again. This is a mistake, he thought guiltily. She’s going to find out he hates her, and she’s going to think I hate her, and- what if she kills herself? What if she-

“You do that way too much,” Luca said softly.

“Do what?”

“Overthink. Even when she’s not here, you do things for her peace of mind. You must love her a lot, huh?”

Don’t say that. Mikhail caught a glimmer of disappointment in his eyes, and his mind raced. I love her, but...

Luca watched him warily. “If being around me stresses you out for whatever reason she gave you, I can leave. You don’t have to pretend it’s okay if it’s not.“

Mikhail grabbed his hand without thinking and held it tightly. “No, it’s more than okay. I just... I like you a lot more than what she’s comfortable with.”

Luca‘s eyes widened. “Then the feeling’s mutual,” he said softly, leaning ever so slightly closer, and Mikhail felt his heart skip a beat as he did the same. One of their hands squeezed the other as their noses bumped against each other, and Mikhail closed his eyes.

“I bet he’s up here,” a voice called from the hallway inside. They quickly sat back as the balcony doors opened and an older woman appeared with a small boy in tow. “Luca! He misses you.”

Luca held out his arms. “Come here, Vinny. You got tired of boring old Caleb?”

“Yeah,” the boy said. “He’s just eating, and zia won’t let me play with the other kids.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause she’s mean, and...” his voice trailing off shyly as he noticed Mikhail.

“Misha, this is Vincent. You’ve met him, yeah?” Luca adjusted the boy’s collar as he buried his face into his father’s shoulder.

“I might have.” Mikhail pulled out the receipt from earlier and neatly tore a strip off. Vincent watched him curiously as he folded the strip into a small paper star. “Look, Vinny.”

“... can I hold it?” he finally asked. His face broke into a smile as Mikhail nodded and placed it into his hand.

____

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tommynikkivincemick · 4 years

Text

three way call — part 9

Summary: Tommy Lee and Nikki Sixx find themselves in the frustrating predicament of being infatuated with the same woman. This calls for a competition.

Author’s note: What’s up fuckers, it’s been a minute! Sorry for the long hiatus, but shit’s been fucked! But now I’m back and will hopefully be writing more. This will probably be the last chapter of three way call, but I’ll totally write an epilogue if y’all would like one. Also sorry if I forgot anyone on the tag list, I haven’t been keeping up with requests very well. Sincerest apologies. Enjoy.

Warnings: Language, alcohol, mild violence, the usual.

Over the following weeks, Tommy, Y/N, and Nikki became inseparable and the Terror Twins became the Terror Triplets. The trio would constantly be touching, kissing, cuddling, sitting on top of each other, or excusing themselves to go have sex. They knew how each other member of the throuple liked their coffee and what kind of cigarettes they smoked, how they tossed and turned in bed, their preferred brands of beer, and what toppings they liked on their pizza. Y/N knew that Nikki didn’t think Crown Royal was worth the money as far as whiskeys went and that Tommy preferred sativa over indica because it didn’t make him feel as hazy. Nikki knew that Tommy didn’t like cheap vodka when doing shots because he’d thrown it up so many times before and he knew that when Y/N made the coffee, it somehow tasted better despite being made the exact same way by everybody. Tommy knew that Y/N only used Sally Hansen nail polish and owned every shade of red ever made, or so it seemed, and that Nikki only burned dragon’s blood incense, only from this weird little hole in the wall shop downtown.

To Vince and Mick, the closeness was nauseating. Vince was tired of fourth wheeling in his own home and tired of being kept up all night and some of the morning by “Oh Tommy, oh Nikki, oh Y/N,” and the pounding of the headboard on the wall. The most blissful times were when Y/N was at work or the trio decided to spend the night at her apartment instead. However, when Y/N was away, the boys had begun to play, testing boundaries romantically and in the bedroom at all hours of the day. Even band practice has changed; Nikki with his perfectionist tendencies harped on Vince and Mick as usual but suddenly everything Tommy did was perfect. In Tommy’s eyes everything should be dialed back a bit, unless it was his drumming or Nikki’s bass.

“I’m so sick to death of those three,” Mick said one day while the Twins were visiting their third at work.

“Oh, shut up, you don’t even live with them! They’re so far up each other’s asses, you can’t even tell where one ends and the others begin at this point,” Vince bitched.

“Don’t get me wrong, Y/N is great, and I’m glad they’re all happy, but when it affects the band is when I draw the line.”

“I know! Nikki and Tommy have been skipping practices and they’re god damned lucky all of our gigs have gone smoothly. I mean, hell; Sixx is supposed to be the leader of this band and who was it that had to call back that Zutaut guy about scheduling a meeting with those record exec guys? Fucking me! I mean, we call Nikki the leader, we call Y/N our manager, and Tommy’s the second in command, so they need to start fucking acting like it if we’re gonna score this record deal.”

“Should we break them up?” Mick asked, a devious sparkle in his eye.

“Absolutely not. Good material has been flowing from Nikki like fucking water; have you read the lyrics for new piece? ‘Looks That Kill’, or whatever? It’s bitchin’, and I don’t even care that it’s about Y/N. He told me what he wants for the instrumentals and it’s gonna be awesome, the whole next album will be.” Vince gushed.

“They’ll tire themselves out eventually,” Mick sighed, “Until then, we suffer, and also tell them to get their shit together.”

Meanwhile at the record store, Y/N swore she was about to throw her lovers out of the store.

“When’s your lunch break?”

“When does your shift end?”

“We miss you!”

“Just close the store for a little while, we won’t tell...”

“Yeah, come on, baby, live a little!”

She loved Tommy and Nikki— really she did— but today they were making her want to tear her fucking hair out. The Twins were especially needy today and it seemed like their whining and pleading wouldn’t ever stop.

“Guys, you’re gonna get me fired, stop it!” She hissed, slapping Tommy’s hand off of her ass.

“Your boss is never even here! Nine times out of ten, you’re the only one working in here,” Nikki reminded, taking another cherry sucker from the bowl on the counter, and watching as Tommy slid behind her again.

“Yeah, but there’s customers here and sometimes the owner’s son comes by to check in and... and...” Her eyelids fluttered and her train of thought went off the tracks as Tommy began kissing her neck and nibbling her earlobe to distract her, “Tommy! I’m gonna slap you in the face if you don’t stop it!”

“But don’t you like it?” He whispered.

“I love it, that’s the problem. You two go home and I’ll see you in an hour for lunch, yeah? I’ll even call in sick for the rest of the day and have what’s-her-name cover for me.”

“Fine,” Nikki pouted, “You promise?”

“I promise, lover,” She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him gently, “But I promise nothing if you two don’t get out and let me get some work done.”

“C’mon, Sixx,” Tommy huffed and leaned down to give Y/N a kiss on the cheek, “See ya later, sweet thing.”

“Later, babes,” She smiled and waved goodbye as they left at last.

She sighed a sigh of deep relief and sank into her chair that sat behind the register. Finally she could take a breather and get some work done. Then the phone rang.

“Mötley residence, Mick speaking, can I please speak to Y/N?”

“Black Cat Records, Y/N speaking, what’s up, man?” She greeted.

“Are the boys still there?”

“Nope, just left. Why, did you need something?”

“No, no. They’ll be home soon enough, I’m sure. We’re having a band meeting later, though, and you need to be there, too.”

“Yeah, got it. Good news or bad news?”

“Little of both. Well, little bad, lot of good.”

“Okay, I’ll be off in a little under two hours and I told the boys I’d call in for the rest of the afternoon. See ya later, Mars man.”

“See ya later, Terror Triplet.”

She chuckled at the name and hung up. As she stuck price labels on a new shipment of records, she wondered what the news could be. The rest of the morning drug on slowly with few customers and boring music on the radio. No Mötley Crüe, that’s for sure. Finally, it was time for the lunch break. Y/N made a quick call before she left.

“Hey, Sylvia? Can you cover me this afternoon? Yeah, yeah, band stuff, you know. Yeah, I’ll tell the boys you said hello. Thanks, hun, I owe you one.”

She was lucky her coworker picked up and was even luckier she agreed to cover her. Even though her boys annoyed her, she still couldn’t wait to go home to them. Y/N was also anxious about Mick’s news. There was so much on her mind that she couldn’t even pay attention to the Blondie song that was on the radio as she drove to the Mötley residence. She climbed through the window of the apartment to find all of the boys laying around the living room in various states of undress.

“Why are you all half naked?” She snickered.

“It’s hot as balls, babe. Our AC broke, I think,” Tommy whined.

“Did you hit it?”

“A little,” Vince sighed, “It didn’t help.”

Y/N hummed to herself and went to the other window, kicking the air conditioning unit as hard as she could, to no avail.

“Damn, that usually works. Oh well, is there cold drinks in the fridge?”

“Yeah, Vinnie went grocery shopping today. We got beer, Diet Coke, bitchy wine cooler things, and some other shit,” Nikki replied, fanning himself with a random piece of sheet music.

She kicked off her shoes and shirt and grabbed a Coke from the fridge, sitting on the floor between Nikki’s legs and leaning her head on his thigh.

“Why are you wearing these leather pants, babe? Aren’t they hot?”

“Fashion before function, sweetheart,” The bassist shrugged.

“So Mick,” Tommy piped up, “What’s your big news?”

The guitarist sat up in his chair, and cleared his throat.

“Good news first. Do you guys remember that Zutaut kid?”

“Dorky rugby shirt?” Tommy asked.

“Yeah, that’s the one. He talked it over with Electra and called today saying they want to sign us as soon as possible.”

The boys and Y/N erupted in a chorus of whoops and hell-yeahs.

“So what’s the bad news? I don’t think anything can sting after that,” Nikki grinned.

Vince shifted uncomfortably before addressing the rhythm section and their lady love.

“Nikki, Tommy, Y/N, let me start by saying we love that you guys are happy together. But me and Mick feel that you’re letting this relationship consume you a little too much. Nikki, you’ve been letting Tommy get away with murder during practices. Tommy, you’re going soft with Sixx and Y/N, man. And Y/N, you’re our manager, but you’ve been devoting more of your time to the guys than the band as a whole. You should have been the one to talk to Electra and tell us we’re getting signed, you know? But we’ve been having to pick up the slack and that sucks.”

The trio nodded guiltily. They knew their priorities were a bit skewed as of late. Y/N had been meaning to call Electra for days, Tommy had been slacking and not taking his position as second in command seriously, and Nikki was too in love to whip Tommy into shape again. It wasn’t fair to Mick and Vince, and they knew that.

“Yeah, I mean us being together makes us happy, but maybe we should’ve considered if it would be good for the band,” Tommy sighed.

“Maybe taking a break would be the best thing for the band,” Y/N mused, words soaked in sorrow.

“Hey, no! You don’t have to take a break from each other, just even out your priorities a little more, you know?” Mick offered, “Tommy still acts like a ten year old but has more grown up moments since you guys started this. Nikki broods less and the creative juices really seem to be flowing. And you seem really content, and me and Vince don’t want to take that from you. You just needed to be straightened out. It’s cool, just focus on the band more, okay?”

The three nodded and sighed in relief. Y/N excused herself to go lie down because it had been a long day, and Nikki followed. Tommy would have, but insisted that Nikki’s bedroom was too stuffy for the Los Angeles heat with no air conditioner. The bassist opened the window in his bedroom to allow for some air flow as the manager removed her shirt and pants to lie down on the dark sheets.

“Were you serious when you talked about us taking a break?” Nikki asked, sitting on the floor beside the bed.

“Only half. If it would be better for the band, I think we could all agree on it. But it would kill me not to be with you and T-Bone anymore,” She whispered.

“Yeah, I get it. I don’t think I could go back to not being with you two dumbasses,” He cracked a smirk, “The bed’s too big without a couple extra warm bodies next to me.”

“I bet you’d write some killer breakup songs, though. Everybody loves a heartbreak,” She joked, fanning herself with a magazine from the table.

“I wouldn’t love this heartbreak,” Nikki sighed, leaning his head on the mattress, inches away from hers.

She took the memo and kissed him deeply before the sounds of chaos erupted from the living room.

“Damn it, Tommy! Don’t drink all the beer!” Vince whined, “Grab another one and I’ll... I’ll shoot you with a staple gun!”

“Did you leave your bag out there?” Nikki whispered.

“Mhm,” Y/N hummed.

“Is your staple gun from the store in it?”

“Mhm, wh—“

There was a metallic pop, followed by shouting.

“FUCK, BLONDIE! YOU MISSED MY EYE BY AN INCH!” Tommy shrieked.

“HALF AN INCH!” Vince yelled back.

“Oh, fuck,” The couple in the bedroom sighed in unison, before going out to join back in the chaos.

Tag list: @jayprettymuchomw @kayladurin @crazysaladchopshop @iamtiber-andtiberismusic @loveofmyloif @saints-of-the-universe @tommyfuckinlee @oh-well1 @cranberribread @princesadeltoro @prostidudes-for-justice @miriampraez @tarahell @n-osebleed @valentines-in-london @bohemian-war @cuntlord0606 @holding-on-to-my-youth @abbysdogcollar @deacontaylormercurymay @fuckyeah-motleycrue

#motley crue #the dirt #bass daddy #nikki sixx #tommy lee #t bone #nikki #tommy #nikki sixx imagine #tommy lee imagine #nikki sixx smut #tommy lee smut #nikki sixx fluff #tommy lee fluff

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ezramercvr · 4 years

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me? copying and pasting this intro exactly the same bc i cba rewriting it/changing anything? its more like than u think. i thought i’d repost tho in case theres new ppl who wanna plot or anyone who has new chars etc. bt ANYWHOMST tosses this onto the dash at mach speed

『JOE KEERY ❙ CISMALE』 ⟿ looks like EZRA ‘MERCY’ MERCER is here for HIS JUNIOR year as a BUSINESS student. HE is 24 years old & known to be INTELLIGENT, OBSERVANT, CALLOUS & INSINCERE. They’re living in PERKINS, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ bri. 22. est. she/they.

pinterest can be found HERE

ok so mercy grew up in n never left hell’s kitchen ny fr his entire life until he was abt 20 when he finally got shipped to connecticut to go to radcliffe

his dad vinny mercer is the right hand man of a rly well known mob boss named lars amaretto………. so basically when lars said jump vinny said how high . has literally maimed n killed ppl its quite a lot n he was in the gang since he was 13 so literally violence n anger is rly all mercy knows??

when he was 20 lars demanded tht vinny sent mercy to go to school elsewhere to widen the parameters of their trade n he wld pay fr everything so vinny was like ya ok idc n off mercy went

their gang mostly runs a gun/weapon trading business, bt they’re also rly well known fr selling id’s to criminals on the run n do a side job of selling illegal drugs, mainly cocaine, heroin, n mdma/pills which mercy is basically in charge of now, the drug part is run only by him in connecticut n his younger brother back home in hell’s kitchen

the reason they decided to send mercy off to school instead of his brother donovan (ducky) is bc his brother’s face is . pretty heavily damaged after vinny caught his youngest son trying to run away when he was 15 n they savagely were jst like . ya we dnt wanna send him away he draws more attention so. thts the life mercy grew up in!

goes by mercy bc vinny thought it was a funny n ironic nickname, plus he wanted it to b a constant reminder of how weak mercy was when he was younger n his dad used to train him fr fights, wld beat him pretty bad when they were training until he literally begged his dad fr mercy

he stuck w the nickname when he left fr connecticut so tht he wldnt forget where he came from n knew wht vinny/lars cld do to him if they ever found tht he tried to get out of the gang etc. n also bc its frankly all he knows which is depressing bt thts life!

he doesn’t rly know his mom, she left when he was 4 n vinny’s been looking fr her ever since and mercy rly hopes he never finds her cause he’s pretty sure he’s planning on killing her once he does

as punishment whenever deals didn’t go well or mercy fucked up in anyway lars used to leave cigarette burns on him n he still carries on this himself bc frankly he’s paranoid if he doesn’t /:

drinks scotch like it’s water

has cheeky samples of his own products (pretty much only the coke bt . still)

enjoys hookups hates relationships, he’s been in like one (1) relationship tht was pretty emotionally abusive w/o them realizing n then jst ended rly awfully

all things considering he’s actually quite humorous but his jokes . never rly land since they never actually make much sense n they’re frankly almost always offensive lksdglknsdglh

is as straightforward as they come

surprisingly tho a rly gd friend, has stabbed someone in their hand before fr a girl he was friends with in high school even tho he offends his friends more often than not

he’s mean without reason to b a lot tho dnt get me wrong hes still a terrible person who will make someone cry bc hes having a rough day

i think thts all i have on him……………. some plot ideas:

anyone who knows him from hell’s kitchen?? cld b fun, he was pretty chaotic when his dad wasn’t around so

ppl he deals to mayhaps

fwb’s fo sho

past fwb’s tht got tired of his shit lkdsgklsdg

maybe someone who he ghosted bc he cld tell he was catching feels?? n was like ew i’m good thanks.

enemies………. feel like he wld have quite a few of those

he also does need a few friends winks

anything u want!! yeehaw!

#radintro #abuse tw #violence tw #drugs tw #alcoholism tw #self harm tw #death tw #murder tw #christ #KLSHDGLKHSDLGKHSDG

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jaxl-road · 4 years

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Scar Tissue, chapter 7

You know that part of fancy dances where everyone weaves around the room switching partners until you eventually find your way back to your person?

Slash is getting dizzy. And he gets the feeling he’s not missing something so much as being left out of something.

Pairings: Slash/Duff, side Axl/Izzy, side Nikki/Tommy, side Steven/Vince

Warnings: ((not in this chapter)) Implied/discussed past abuse (non-explicit)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The show went by in a blur.

Slash felt like he couldn’t stop smiling, running and jumping around the stage more than usual just to get some of his excess excitement out, almost rivaling Axl’s antics. The energy was infectious, and all five boys found themselves in a feedback loop that carried over to the audience. By the time the show ended, Slash could barely remember what had even happened, but that didn’t stop him from being certain that it was one of their best shows to date.

And the second they made it back to the dressing room, Slash pulled Duff down for another kiss.

Steven cheered, throwing his arms in the air, “Fucking FINALLY!” As the new couple broke apart, the drummer threw his arms around both of them, turning to Duff with a grin, “I’ve been watching this idiot pine for MONTHS.”

“Excuse you, we’ve all been watching him pine, “Axl chimed in.

“I kept expecting him to bring some sad, lovesick song to rehearsal,” Izzy contributed.

“I hate all of you,” Slash pouted, Duff chuckling and ducking his head to hide his red face.

They all settled around the dressing room, coming down from the adrenaline of the show, alternating between teasing Slash and excitedly discussing the show. Axl walked back and forth, waving his arms as he rattled off the potential for their upcoming gigs.

Eventually, the door opened and the terror twins burst in, grinning mischievously. “I can’t believe you guys ripped off our look!” Tommy laughed.

“We still win though cause you don’t have heels,” Nikki declared, kicking out one foot to show off the platform boots dramatically.

Tommy snickered, “Still though, that was awesome!”

“Brace yourselves,” Mick drawled as he slunk in behind them, “Incoming in three, two-”

“HEY, ADLER!”

Vince shoved past his bandmates, pointing accusingly at the Guns drummer, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that bullshit two weeks ago! I’ve got a fucking bone to pick with you!”

Steven froze, staring wide-eyed as all eyes locked on the two blondes.

Just as Vince was taking a step forward, Tommy leapt forward, standing between the two and facing his singer, “Okay, alright, as much as I love a good fight, I distinctly recall telling both of you to just talk this shit out.”

“Fine,” Vince grit out, crossing his arms, “I’ll start: What the fuck, man?”

“Uh…” Steven glanced around nervously, Slash giving him a ‘go on’ motion encouragingly, “Right. Well,” he gathered himself and narrowed his eyes, “fine. I was high and drunk and you were being a dumb bitch.”

“Excuse me?” Vince screeched incredulously.

Slash sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Off to a great start there, Stevie.”

“Well, it’s true!” Steven snapped, “You tried to set me up with some random chick, of course I got pissed!”

“How is that a bad thing?” Vince exclaimed, “I was trying to help you get laid!”

“And I was trying to get laid by you!”

“Well I-... Wait, what?” Stuttering to a halt, Vince’s face was a mixture of confusion and surprise.

Steven threw his hands in the air in exasperation, “I’ve been flirting with you for months!”

“No you haven’t!”

“Yes I have!”

“Uh, Steven?” Slash raised a hand, cutting in, “Dude, I’m on your side, but you’re terrible at flirting. You literally don’t act any different than normal.”

There was a general murmur of agreement, Steven shooting a look of betrayal at his friends as Vince smirked in victory, “Hah! See!”

“Okay, well,” Steven glared, “even so, that night I was totally blatant! You said you needed someone to fuck and I told you I was available!”

“Ooooh, he’s got you there, Vinnie,” Nikki commented, he and Tommy snickering together in the corner as their singer glared.

“Well,” he was starting to look flustered, “I- you-... I thought you were straight!” he blurted out.

Steven’s jaw dropped, “Are you fucking kidding me?? Vince,” he gestured up and down at the singer and yelled, “no one is that straight!”

For a moment, the room is silent, Vince gaping as Steven’s hands curled into fists at his sides. Finally, the drummer sighed in frustration, “Fuck it, this is stupid. I’m sorry I punched you or whatever, let’s just-”

But before he could finish, Vince rushed forward and kissed him firmly.

There is only the briefest moment of surprised hesitation before Steven is wrapping his arms around the singer to pull him even closer.

Meanwhile, the other seven rockers in the room stared awkwardly. Eventually, Tommy started a dramatic slow clap. Unsure of what else to do, the rest of the group soon joined the applause.

“Fuck you guys,” Vince tried to look annoyed, but we was still grinning. He looked like he was going to say something else, but Steven pulled him back for another kiss.

“Wow. For a minute there I didn’t think this would end well,” Slash laughed.

“Apparently love is in the fucking air tonight,” Izzy mumbled, winking at Slash and Duff.

There was a soft thud, drawing their attention back as Vince pushed Steven up against the wall, and immediately the terror twins sprung into action, “Oh, oh boy, okay, time to go!” Nikki stated.

“Yup, trust us, Vince ain’t gonna slow down just cause he’s got an audience,” Tommy added, the two of them herding the group out of the room, managing to close the dressing room door just as the two blondes fell onto the couch together.

“I can’t decide if Vince is going to be more or less insufferable now,” Mick mused.

“Probably the same,” Nikki laughed, “But we are definitely late for the afterparty, so let’s get fucked up!”

The two bands (minus one singer and one drummer) once again made their way to Motley Crue’s apartment, and Slash found it funny how different this time was from the last time they partied together.

They were barely a block away when Nikki and Tommy honed in on Slash’s arm around Duff’s waist. Sharing quick look, the two quickly situated themselves on either side of the couple, Nikki next to Duff and Tommy next to Slash. It was a little absurd how tiny Slash felt next to the three of them.

“I can’t help but notice some PDA going on over here,” Nikki smirked.

“Don’t tell me today is couples day,” Tommy joked.

“Uh…” Duff stammered, glancing at Slash almost nervously.

Meanwhile, the guitarist puffed his chest out, grinning proudly as he tugged Duff closer, “You bet your ass it is. We beat Steven and Vince by a solid two hours,” he bragged.

“I didn’t realize it was a race,” Tommy said, “But in that case Nikki and I definitely win.”

“Damn straight,” Nikki high fived him behind Slash and Duff’s backs.

“I think the fuck not,” Axl snapped his head around, glaring, “Izzy and I left you slow burn fuckers in the fucking dust, thank you very much.”

“You tell ‘em, babe,” Izzy nodded.

“I hate being single,” Mick grumbled.

“I know Mick, I know,” Nikki patted his shoulder comfortingly, the guitarist swatting his hand away.

If Slash had been paying more attention, he might have noticed how Nikki and Tommy left him and Duff in favor of flanking Izzy and Axl, Nikki and Axl talking in hushed tones in a way that would have been suspicious. If Slash had been paying attention.

But he wasn’t. He was too busy walking on sunshine at getting to hold Duff so close, making the bassist blush as he complimented his playing at the show, kissing his cheek and the corner of his mouth every few minutes while Duff laughed and played with his curls as they walked. When he thought about it, part of him wanted to ditch the party- to just go home with Duff and have a few hours to themselves, to lay in bed and touch every inch of him, soft and slow.

As they approached the apartment, Slash opened his mouth to suggest to Duff that they split off. But before he got a chance, Tommy was sliding next to him, “Hey, Slash! I have a question,” he began cheerily, “You have a pet snake, right?”

“Um,” Slash blinked in surprise at the unexpected question, “I have a couple, yeah, but they’re back at my mom and grandma’s place.”

“Cool, cool,” Tommy nodded, throwing an arm around his shoulders, “I’m trying to convince the guys that we should get a pet, but Vince is allergic to cats, and Mick is allergic to dogs, so I was thinking a snake or something! What do you think?”

“Are you kidding me? No fucking way,” Slash laughed, “You guys can barely keep yourselves alive and you wanna add a pet? None of you should be responsible for any living thing ever. Just get a cactus or something.”

“But I can’t cuddle a cactus!” Tommy pouted.

“I mean, not with that attitude!”

“You’re unhelpful as fuck, dude.”

Slash’s laugh was cut off as Tommy guided him through the window into the apartment. He hadn’t even noticed them walking up the fire escape. Blinking, he suddenly became aware of the lack of bassist at his side.

Furrowing his brows, he glanced around, “Hey, where’d-”

“I am way too sober, all the adrenaline from the show burned through everything in my system,” Tommy interrupted, dragging Slash over to the coffee table as strangers started pouring into the apartment behind them. The drummer quickly kneeled down, pulling a bag of white power from his pocket and shaking it at Slash with a grin, “Care to join?”

Slash paused for a moment in consideration, but finally shrugged, “Sure,” he crouched down next to him. He’d just do a quick line or two and then he’d track down Duff and whisk him away.

It only took a few minutes for Tommy to cut a few lines and for each of them to snort them up, both laughing as they felt the initial rush to their system. Wiping at his nose, Slash stood and nodded at the drummer, “I’m gonna go find Duff.”

Tommy gave him a quick wave before turning to chat with some of the partiers. The apartment had filled quickly, people passing bottles and cigarettes and bags of coke, voices layering over each other and someone throwing on a record to add even more noise. Looking around the room, Slash saw no sign of the tall blonde. Glancing at the window he had come through, he was thrown back to the last time he had come to the Crue’s apartment- the last time he had lost track of Duff.

Walking over and glancing out the window, Slash blinked with deja vu as he spied Duff and Nikki standing at the bottom of the building, smoking and talking together. This time though, it looked almost like they were arguing. Not heatedly, but Nikki had his arms crossed, a serious look on his face while Duff gestured vaguely and seemed to ramble on about something with wide eyes.

Slash narrowed his eyes. He hated when Duff got that look of anxiety on his face, and he didn’t appreciate Nikki putting it there. He took the stairs two at a time, and by the time he hopped off the fire escape, the two bassists had become aware of his presence. Nikki sighed, and Duff shot him an almost guilty look.

“Hey guys!” Slash smiled tensely, “I was wondering where you ran off to,” he said to Duff, weaving their fingers together.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Duff gave a nervous laugh, “just got caught up in conversation.”

“Bassist bonding, y’know?” Nikki grinned, taking a long drag of his cigarette as he eyed Slash with a look the guitarist couldn’t identify.

“Yeah, I’m still trying to convince Mick to join me and Izzy for ‘guitarist get-togethers.”

“Oh, I definitely need to see that,” the strange look disappeared as Nikki laughed.

Leaning heavier against Duff, Slash turned to him, “I’m pretty beat from the show. I was thinking maybe we could get out of here…?” he suggested with a sly smile.

Duff looked away quickly, “Oh, yeah, sure, I-”

“Aw, don’t leave so soon!” Nikki cut in loudly, giving them exaggerated puppy eyes, “You only just got here,” sauntering around them, put his arms around them both, ducking his head between them, “At least stay for a few drinks.”

It wasn’t a question, the dark haired man already guiding both of them back to the apartment, his hands firm on their shoulders. Slash sighed, but figured it wasn’t the end of the world. After all, he wasn’t exactly going to complain about free booze. So the three of them made their way to the kitchen, where a variety of bottles had accumulated on the countertops.

“Pick your poison!” Nikki offered cheerfully.

Duff eagerly snatched a bottle of vodka, not even bothering with a glass, instead taking a swig straight from the bottle while Nikki cheered. Slash laughed and reached for the whiskey, while Nikki quickly mixed himself a jack and coke. They drank and chatted, practically yelling to be heard over the ruckus in the apartment.

Before long, Tommy bounded over, clearly having helped himself to more cocaine since Slash last saw him. Coming up behind Nikki and wrapping his arms around him, “Heya babe! Having fun with the lovebirds?” he giggled.

Slash barked out a laugh, “You’re calling us lovebirds?” he gestured at the other couple.

“Nikki, Slash said we shouldn’t get a snake,” Tommy pouted, ignoring Slash’s comment.

His boyfriend only raised an eyebrow, “Well duh, probably because we definitely shouldn’t get a snake.”

“But baaaaabe,” the drummer whined, “I want a pet!”

“I got a dog from a blacksmith once,” Duff blurted out, three sets of eyes snapping to him in confusion. He smirked slowly, “As soon as I got home he made a bolt for the door.”

While Slash and Tommy laughed in surprise, Nikki had unfortunately just taken a sip of his drink and proceeded to immediately snort it out his nose. Sputtering and coughing, his three friends howled with laughter as he glared and pulled himself together.

“God fucking dammit, Duff!”

“You get used to it,” Slash snickered, patting his back in faux sympathy as Nikki flipped him off.

Just then, two familiar blondes crawled into the apartment. Vince had love bites running from his neck down his chest, disappearing under the low neckline of his shirt, and Steven’s hair was even wilder than usual and as they got closer Slash could see his shirt was on backwards.

“What’s up, losers? Did you miss us?” Vince exclaimed, waltzing over to the group in the kitchen with Steven beside him.

“Not really,” Nikki responded sarcastically.

“You wound me,” Vince pouted, “Where’s the love? I was nothing but supportive when you fuckers finally banged.”

“You gave us shit for weeks!” Tommy cried.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Tommy,” Nikki rolled his eyes, “He still gives us shit.”

“We need new friends,” Sighing, Steven snaked his arm behind Vince’s back, too low for his hand to be anywhere but on the singer’s ass.

Slash fake gagged, “Oh God, I thought you both were bad individually, this is gonna be even worse.”

“At least get a room,” Duff mumbled into his vodka, looking away firmly.

Vince lit up, “That is an excellent idea,” he purred, Steven grinning as he was tugged further into the house.

As they disappeared into Vince’s room, Nikki shook his head fondly, “This is going to be interesting.”

“Yup,” Slash looked over at his own boyfriend, who was steadily draining the bottle in his hand, “Although, on the subject of getting a room-”

“There you fuckers are!”

Axl strutted into the room, Izzy close behind him, “Did you see Steven and Vince go by? I can’t believe this! I wanted to see Vince get punched and instead I have to watch them get all handsy with each other! It’s a fucking outrage!” he ranted.

“Unfortunately, love won this round,” Izzy deadpanned, smoking a cigarette lazily.

Huffing, the red-head crossed his arms petulantly. Nikki shook his head before changing the subject, “So, you guys have any more shows coming up?”

Perking up, Axl started talking about GnR’s upcoming gigs, Nikki and Tommy nodding along and commenting on the various venues. Meanwhile, Izzy turned to Slash.

“Speaking of, we should try to finish a couple of our new songs for the next show.”

“Oh yeah?” Slash nodded, “That’s not a bad idea. Any in particular you wanted to work on first?”

The two guitarists discussed which of their half-completed songs to work on first. Their conversation slowly shifted until they were discussing their favorite guitar riffs, from their own songs and from other bands.

“You guys should grab Mick,” Nikki suddenly chimed in, “I still want to see a ‘guitarist get-together’.”

“Oh my gosh, I’ll take pictures!” Tommy laughed.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Izzy shrugged, “Mick’s cool.”

“You’re only saying that because you don’t get scolded by him on a daily basis.”

“I mean… yeah.”

Looking around the circle, Slash frowned. He glanced over his shoulders, but the four of them were the only ones in the kitchen, “Where’d Duff and Axl go?”

The terror twins shrugged, “I dunno,” Tommy answered unhelpfully.

Sighing, Slash took another swig of whiskey, “I’m gonna go find ‘em.”

But before he could exit the kitchen, Izzy threw his arm around his shoulders, dragging him back to the circle, “Oh come on, they’ll be fine for a few minutes,” he argued nonchalantly, “let’s at least get back to figuring out which songs we want to work on next.”

Frowning, Slash wanted to say no. He just wanted to hang out with his boyfriend- (and oh boy did that thought make him giddy every time he thought it- Duff was his boyfriend)- but he figured Izzy wasn’t being unreasonable, so he nodded along. The discussion went longer than Slash expected- every time he thought they came to an agreement, Izzy would suddenly change his mind, or Tommy or Nikki would interrupt with a note, or comment, or line of coke.

Eventually though, when the whiskey bottle was nearly empty and he’d done two more lines, Slash insisted on finding Duff. He weaved his way out of the kitchen, the alcohol making him a bit unsteady. Luckily, the tall blonde was easy to find. He was sitting on the couch, Vodka still in hand (it looked more full than it had been before- was that a new bottle?) and Axl sitting beside him, the singer facing him as he gestured wildly, clearly ranting about something or other.

Duff brows were slightly furrowed, like he was confused, and Slash couldn’t help but smile fondly. He was familiar with the way Axl could sometimes just talk and talk, and it was almost cute seeing Duff try to comprehend whatever passionate speech he was caught up in.

He wasted no time making his way over, sitting on the arm of the couch to lean over Duff and place a kiss on the crown of his head, giggling as the bassist jumped, “Hey babe,” he sang, “I missed you!”

Across from him, Axl huffed, narrowing his eyes at having been interrupted, “Um, rude? We were clearly talking.”

Slash glared right back, resting his chin on Duff’s head and letting his arms drape over his shoulders, “Hey, he’s my boyfriend, so I get to call dibs.”

Before the red-head could argue, they were both cut off as their blonde drummer reappeared, face flushed and smiling contently, “Hey guys!" he drawled, "I am having the best night. You would not believe the things Vince can do with his tongue-”

“No no no!” Slash cried frantically reeling back and slapping his hands over his ears, “lalalalala I can’t hear you!”

“Oh come on!” Steven laughed, “We’ve described good fucks to each other before!”

“Yeah, but this is Vince,” Slash insisted with a shudder, “This is someone I have to look in the eye on a regular basis! Please, as your best friend, I am begging you to spare me the details just this once.”

The drummer sighed dramatically, “Oh, fine. But only because I fucking love you.”

“Thank you.”

“What about you, Tommy? Can you handle the dirty details? Cause I seriously need to get this out before I’m ready for round three.”

“Wait, what?” Slash snapped his head to the side, nearly losing his balance as he blinked drunkenly. The blonde bassist had been replaced by the Motley Crue drummer. Axl sat beside him, pointedly avoiding the guitarist’s gaze, although he couldn’t quite hide a cocky smirk.

Tommy shrugged, “Honestly, I’ve walked in on Vince enough that nothing can scar me anymore. Spill.”

Growling in frustration, Slash lurched to his feet, Steven swiftly taking his seat as he began to wax poetic about Vince’s bedroom skills. Stumbling away, Slash didn’t understand what was happening. Because something was happening. There was no other explanation for how Duff kept being swept away from him every time he turned his head. He didn’t even care about going home anymore- he just wanted to spend time with his boyfriend. It would be enough to just stand next to him and hold his hand for more than two minutes, maybe press a few kisses into his skin. He’d waited so long to get to this point. He just wanted to savor it.

Pressing through the crowd of people, he found Duff in a corner, leaning heavily against the wall with an empty vodka bottle held loosely at his side. Nikki was next to him, smoking a cigarette while Izzy stood in front of them and spoke quietly.

“Duff!” Slash cried excitedly. The three boys turned to look at him, Duff attempting to stand up straighter but only managing to pitch forward. Luckily, Izzy and Nikki quickly steadied him, Slash hurrying over and slinging the bassist’s arm over his shoulder to hold him up.

“H-hey, Slash,” Duff smiled, his eyes slightly glassy from the alcohol. He pressed himself closer to him, burying his face in messy curls with a sigh.

Despite his previous frustration, Slash couldn’t help but smile, bringing his free hand up to play with the ribbon around his neck, “Hey,” he drawled, “I keep losing you. Or, you keep getting stolen,” he raised an eyebrow at the two rockers in front of him. They both stared back evenly.

But Duff shuddered in his arms, reaching to clench his fingers in the front of Slash’s shirt, “‘m sorry,” he whispered into his hair.

He almost missed the way Izzy and Nikki’s eyes seemed to darken, but he didn’t have the energy to think about it, instead focusing on pulling Duff closer, “It’s fine, you’re fine, ‘m just messing,” he soothed.

There was a nod against the top of his head, and the blonde seemed to sink a little further against him. Behind his back, Slash heard a soft thud, turning his head to see that the empty bottle had slipped from Duff’s fingers. Rubbing his back softly, Slash decided that this time, it really was time to go.

“I think you and I are gonna head home now,” he declared, “I’m half wasted and you’re half past wasted.”

Duff laughed lightly, nodding in agreement, “Yeah, kay.”

“Thanks for the booze and shit,” Slash nodded at Nikki, turning and giving Izzy a quick wave, “I’ll see you guys at home.”

He barely processed their responses, if there were any, too busy keeping himself and the tall blonde upright as they left the apartment. The fire escape was a challenge, but both of them were laughing by the time they finally reached the bottom. Normally the walk between their apartment and Motley Crue’s wasn’t too long, but with both of them weaving and tripping over their own feet, the journey took twice as long.

Slash didn’t mind though. He welcomed any time spent with Duff- always had, but even more so now. Whenever Duff stumbled against him, he couldn’t resist pressing his lips to the side of his neck, feeling the bassist sigh against him as he mouthed at his collar bone. When they finally reached the Hell House, Slash ignored his keys in favor of gently pushing Duff against the door to press their lips together, kissing lazily and stroking his hand against the small of his back while Duff tangled his fingers in his hair.

Eventually, the chill of the night motivated them to pull away and unlock the door, making their way inside. They giggled as they fumbled in the dark towards their room. Slash didn’t bother turning the lights on, and after the briefest flash of hesitation, guided both of them towards his own bed.

What a strange day, Slash thought to himself. It had gone so fast but felt so long, and even though the two of them had shared a bed the night before, tonight was different. Because, despite all of his doubts and shyness, Slash and Duff were together now. He wondered if the giddiness would ever die down.

As he maneuvered Duff onto the bed though, he couldn’t ignore the way the bassist fell back onto the mattress like dead weight, limbs sprawled out and eyes fluttering open and closed, and Slash still tasted vodka on his lips.

So, smiling softly, he crawled on the bed and gently laid his body on top of Duff’s, resting his head against his chest and sighing contently.

“Mmmm… Slash?” Duff muttered, turning his head to try to look at the guitarist, “I-... ‘re you…”

Slash hushed him, wrapping his arms around his waist and rolling them onto their sides, tucking his head beneath Duff’s chin, “Long day,” he slurred with a smile, “Let’s just sleep now. I’ll take you on a date tomorrow,” he promised.

“...Oh,” Duff let out a breath, “Okay,” he laughed a little, bringing a hand up to smooth back Slash’s wild curls.

Pressing one last kiss to the bassist’s shoulder, Slash held Duff tighter, smiling even as the whiskey pulled him towards sleep.

He drifted off with Duff’s steady heartbeat under his ear.

#Scar Tissue #my writing #Guns n Roses #gnr #guns n roses fanfiction #motley crue #sluff #duff/slash #axl/izzy #terrorcest #steven/vince #buckle up y'all #the rollercoaster's only just begining

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ladyfogg · 5 years

Text

Cold is the Night - 14/20

Fic Summary: You and Pat have known each other for years but this summer, everything will change. As the two of you start to grow close, your matching tempers threaten the foundation of your rocky friendship and prevent both of you from realizing your true feelings. Cold is the Night Masterpost.

A/N: Hey hey, guys. I’m just dropping in to let you know that I’ll be taking some time between updates and teasers. In the past, I’ve posted a teaser every other day and the chapter to follow. I probably won’t follow that schedule for these remaining six chapters. We’ll see. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Fic Song: Cold is the Night by The Oh Hellos. Fic playlist can be found here.

Pairing: Pat Murray/Female Reader

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Language, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Multiple Chapters

Gif by @mrbenhardys

When Pat explained about the fight with his dad, your own anger flared and you had to stop yourself from getting back into your car and driving over there.

"I can't fucking believe him!" you exclaimed. "Who the hell does he think he is?"

Your parents weren't saints by any means, and you're sure deep down Brian meant well, but it was still a shitty thing to say to your kid.

"I just want to forget about it," Pat said. "I know it's a lot to ask but do you mind if I stay here for a bit? If you're not comfortable with that I'm sure I can ask Maz."

"You're staying here," you told him. "And before you ask, yes I'm sure."

His shoulders relaxed and he gave you a small smile. "Thanks."

He looked exhausted and you could tell he hadn't had a chance to clean up after moving stuff all day. "Why don't you take a shower and I'll get you something to eat?"

"What about work?" he asked. "You still have a few hours of your shift."

"I told them I had a family emergency," you said. "I'm not going back tonight. Unless you need space…"

"I don't want space. I want you."

You stroked his cheek before giving him a soft kiss. "Go clean up. I'll get you something."

Pat took a deep breath and nodded before getting up. You watched him go into the bathroom, still furious with his father.

Regardless, you pushed the anger away in favor of taking care of your boyfriend. While he showered, you ordered a pizza and some lava cakes because the situation definitely called for it. You waited in the living room so he could sit with you among the flowers he bought, most of which were still alive and well.

Pat came out a few minutes later wearing sweatpants and a white undershirt. He sat next to you on the couch, tucking himself against your side.

You hugged him. "Do you want to talk more about it?"

"No."

"What can I do to help?"

"Just this."

You nodded, kissing his forehead. "Okay."

Silence washed over you both as you held each other.

"It's funny," Pat muttered after a few minutes.

"What is?"

"There I was, locked in my room, beyond angry. And all I wanted was to come here to be with you. I couldn't stay in that room another minute."

Your heart fluttered and your stomach dropped. The significance that he didn't want to be isolated was not lost on you.

With a soft smile, you placed kisses across his face. When you got to his lips, he leaned in all the way, sealing his mouth over yours.

The moment was interrupted when there was a knock on the door.

"Pizza's here," you said, drawing back.

Pat grinned. "You got me a pizza?"

"And lava cakes."

"I don't deserve you."

"Shut up. Yes, you do."

Pat ended up staying with you for two days.

As much as you were angry with what he went through, it was really nice having him there. With your work schedules, you were like two ships passing in the night. But at least when you got home he was there to cuddle you to sleep, exhausted from his own long day plus waiting up for you.

On the morning of the third day, he came into the kitchen while you were making breakfast. He had to go to work early but you liked to make sure he ate something before he did.

“My dad left me a message last night,” he said.

"Did he beg for your forgiveness?"

“Not exactly. He wants me to come home so we can talk things out.”

He hadn't mentioned the fight since the night it happened and you gave him a worried look.

"Is that what you want?"

Pat sighed, arms crossed over his chest. "I should at least hear what he has to say. He sounded sincere. I can tell he feels bad."

You weren't going to argue with him or give unsolicited advice so you only nodded. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Your protective side was on high alert, especially after seeing how emotional Pat had been after the last time he spoke to his dad.

Pat smiled and gave you a kiss. “Do you think you could come over for dinner? I know you don’t work tonight. Knowing I’ll be seeing you later will really help get me through this fucking day.”

“Of course, whatever you need,” you said. “I will warn you though if he says anything I cannot be held responsible for my response.”

“As long as you don’t throw a punch, I think I can handle that.”

“Boo, you’re no fun.”

“I beg to differ.”

Smirking, you pulled him into another kiss. With everything going on, you hadn’t had a chance to fool around since the night of Vinnie’s party. Not that it was on your mind. You were more concerned with making sure Pat was okay. And he was far from being in the mood. But now that he seemed better, and his arms circled your waist, your body responded with interest.

You were suddenly very aware of his hard body pressed against yours. “You coming back here after dinner?” you asked suggestively.

Sadly, Pat shook his head. “No, I should probably stay home. I’ve got laundry to do. Plus my next few shifts are going to be at the ass crack of dawn.”

“Fuck, I was really hoping for some fun times.”

Pat’s eyes grew hooded and he pressed himself against you until your back hit the counter. “Soon. I promise.”

"I really liked having you here the last few days."

"You did?"

You nodded. "Just wish we could have enjoyed it more."

"Sure it wasn't because I did the dishes?"

That had been a pleasant surprise: coming home to things being picked up or cleaned.

"Surprisingly, no," you laughed. "Believe it or not, I like your company, Murray."

"I believe it."

You kissed again, before reluctantly pulling away. “Made you an egg wrap to go. And coffee.” You handed him the foiled covered food and travel mug.

“You’re the best.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

Pat studied you for a moment and it almost looked like he was going to say something. But he stopped himself, smiling instead. Before you could ask what was up, he kissed you a final time and drew back. “I’ll text you when I have a time for dinner.”

“Okay,” you said, already missing the warmth of him. “Let me know if you want me to bring anything.”

“Just your charming personality.”

“Well, obviously. I never leave home without it.”

As you watched him leave, you were worried about what the evening had in store. You spent the day anxiety cleaning, refreshing the water for some of the remaining bouquets, doing laundry, cleaning the bathroom, and any other chore you could think of.

When the afternoon rolled around, Pat texted you. Dinner is at five. Heading home now. Wish me luck.

Call me if you need me there sooner.

Time dragged on. When no calls or texts came, you assumed things were going well. You dressed in something you knew Pat would like and then headed over to the Murray household.

Pat answered the door before you even had a chance to knock. He looked tired but not angry.

"Everything okay?" you asked in a low voice.

He nodded. "Yeah, I think so. We talked it out. He apologized. I'm so glad you're here."

You smiled with relief and gave him a quick kiss, which he happily returned. "You gonna invite me in or what, Murray?"

Pat smirked, his arm around your waist as he pulled you into the house. You could sense there was still tension in the air which made your anxiety spike. He led you through the living room and into the kitchen where Brian was setting the table.

He greeted you with a large smile. "It's nice to see you again!"

"You too, Mr. Murray."

"Please, call me Brian."

You and Pat sat next to each other while Brian stepped onto the porch to check on the grill.

"Should I be here?" you asked Pat in a hushed tone. "I feel like things are still tense."

Pat took your hand. "Just having you here is helping me. But if you're really uncomfortable, you don't have to stay."

"I'm not leaving you."

He smiled and kissed your knuckles just as Brian stepped into the room. If he noticed the exchange, he didn't say anything.

"Alright we got hamburgers and hot dogs!" he said, placing a large serving plate in the middle of the table. "Dig in."

The three of you started the meal in silence. You weren't sure what to say or if you even wanted to start the conversation. Pat and Brian didn't seem to mind the silence and you got the feeling they didn't talk much.

Eventually, Brian cleared his throat and addressed you. "What are you studying?" he asked.

"I'm not in school."

"Oh." Brian seemed surprised. "What do you do then?"

Here we go...you thought.

"I bartend, full-time," you answered, on guard. "I really enjoy it."

"Bartending is great," Brian said, sounding a little too enthusiastic. "It's a good skill to have. Think you'll do it for a while?"

Next to you, Pat tensed. You knew he was worried about his dad's line of questioning, especially after their fight, but you weren't worried. Under the table, you gave Pat's knee a comforting squeeze.

"I think so," you said. "I'm always open to learning new things. Haven't quite figured out what I want to do long term but I'm young. What's the rush?"

Pat hid his smile behind his glass as he took a drink of water. Brian seemed to catch on to your subtle jab.

"It's true. You are young. But it never hurts to think ahead."

"Dad…" Pat said warningly.

"I'm just saying--"

"I know what you're saying," you cut in. "And it's nothing I haven't been told before. When it comes down to it, as long as I'm happy, I don't care what I do. Because my happiness doesn't revolve around work." You smiled sweetly and reached over to squeeze Pat's cheeks. "As long as I get to see this face every day, I'm good."

Pat blushed and batted your hands away. "Stop it."

When you looked back at Brian, he was smiling. "That's a great outlook to have."

"I think so too."

Things were less tense after your little speech. Brian asked how your parents were doing, and if a date had been set for Vinnie and Nellie's wedding. Eventually, the conversation steered to baseball and Pat took over, giving you a chance to finally relax.

After dinner, Brian excused himself for a prior commitment, leaving you and Pat alone.

Your boyfriend led you to his bedroom, closing the door behind you.

"That wasn't so bad," you said.

He pulled you close, kissing you deeply. It took you by surprise but you returned it all the same.

"What was that for?"

"You're amazing, you know that?" Pat asked.

"Yeah. What's your point?"

He laughed, hugging you tightly. "Thanks for having my back."

"Always."

He kissed you again, this time his hands traveling down to cup your ass, bringing you flush against him. You hummed in appreciation, tangling your fingers into his hair.

"What's your plan here, Murray?" you purred.

"No idea," he said huskily. "We don't have much time before he gets back so whatever we're gonna do, it has to be quick."

You thought about the emotional hell he had been through the last few days and knew exactly how to make it up to him. You pushed him backward until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed, forcing him to sit.

Pat stared at you questioningly, until you dropped to your knees in front of him.

"I'm going to blow you now," you declared.

His eyes widened and his mouth fell open in surprise. He quickly closed it and swallowed thickly. "Uh, okay, yeah. Sure. Yeah, that's...yeah."

"You're so articulate."

Pat blushed and glared. "Shut up. You took me by surprise!"

Laughing, you reached for the button of his jeans. "You shut up and help me get these off."

He didn't need to be told twice. Quickly, he fumbled with the button, then the zipper, lifting his hips to help you pull them down around his ankles. Pat leaned down to kiss you, cupping your face just as your hand slipped into his boxers.

You wrapped your hand around him and gave him a teasing tug, causing Pat to pull away with a gasp. "Fuck! Warn a guy first."

"My hand is in your boxers. What did you expect would happen?"

"I didn't think you'd just—ohh, fuck!"

His voice broke into a moan as you slipped the head of his cock between your lips. It twitched in response, rapidly swelling against your tongue. The musky heady scent of him invaded your senses, spurring you on.

You sucked softly, tongue flicking across the head before taking him fully into your mouth. Slowly, you moved up and down, taking more of him in each time.

Pat's breathing picked up, his hands fisting the sheets. You gave him a smoldering look, head bobbing up and down as your hand followed your movements. His cheeks were red, eyes wide as he stared at you in awe. It was a look you'd always remember.

With a gasp, you pulled off, finally looking at his swollen member. He was long and thick, with a large vein running along the side.

"Shit, Murray."

He tried to respond but you traced your lips with the head of his cock and whatever words he tried to make were lost. Eagerly, you sucked him back into your mouth, your hand jerking what couldn't fit.

His knuckles were white and his thighs trembled. You could tell he was trying to control himself, to let you set the pace.

With your free hand, you pried his from the bed and placed it on your head. Pat ran his hands through your hair experimentally, gently gripping the strands. He carefully lifted his hips, burying himself further into your throat.

He moaned your name. It sounded so fucking beautiful, you wanted him to do it again. You swirled your tongue around his tip before taking him as far in as you could stand.

"Fucking hell!"

You lost yourself in the rhythm of sucking him off, his hands gripping your hair as his hips kept meeting your mouth.

Time dragged on and before you knew it he gave you a sharp tug in warning. "Babe, I'm gonna come."

You doubled your efforts, humming enough so the vibrations went straight to his cock. Pat swore and his cock grew impossibly hard before he came, body hunched over as his hips jerked upward.

Swallowing around him, you kept going until he fell back onto the bed. Pleased with yourself, you let him slide out of your mouth.

You wiped your lips on his blanket before crawling up to lean over him. "You alright there?"

Panting, Pat pushed his sweaty hair out of his face. "You're amazing. Truly fucking amazing."

"I'm also wet." You took his hand, kissing his fingers before pushing his hand toward your jeans. "Wanna help?"

Eyes glinting with excitement, Pat sat up, hooking his finger through your belt loop to draw you on top of him. "I think I can handle that."

#undrafted #pat murray x reader #pat murray x you #pat murray #joe mazzello

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writingismyhappytime · 5 years

Text

Happy Birthday, (Y/N)!

Ryan sitkowski x reader

Warnings: language, fluff

A/N: happy birthday @ryansitkowskiswifey

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear (Y/N), happy birthday to you!" A chorus of people sing as you lean over the table, holding your hair back as you prepare to blow out the candles on your birthday cake.

It's nice to have everyone gathered around to celebrate your special day, you haven't had a surprise party... well, ever if you're thinking about it. The fact they put so much effort forth for you means a lot, mostly because you're not sure how they found out. You didn't tell anyone, you didn't want to make a fuss about it.

"Thank all of you guys for doing this," you say, knowing your face is hot. It's embarrassing and endearing at the same time, and you adore the cake frosted in your favorite color, a dozen candles burning on the top providing the only light in the small room.

All your friends are gathered about --- or at least the friends you've made in the past few months. It was a last minute decision to pop on tour with Motionless in White, but you're glad you did it. You've been working on and off with these guys for years, so you know them fairly well and you're comfortable with them... still, sharing such a confined space with the band and all of their techs and the like was a new learning curve. You really get to know people when you're all trapped together in a moving tin can for hours on end, and the only place you can go for privacy is a tiny bathroom or your bunk with a blackout curtain.

It's sweet they'd do this for you, although everyone gathered around the table on the tour bus is sort of smothering. The bus is rumbling, the guys haven't been done with their show very long so you know they must be tired, but they still made time for you. You give them all a bright smile before you lean forward, making your wish and blowing out the candles.

The bus is immediately sent into darkness as everyone cheers and claps, and you lean up happily as someone flicks the lights back on. Your eyes focus on the man standing directly across from you before flicking away, feeling your cheeks grow even warmer. It's so easy for your gaze to find his, it's automatic, like you're drawn to each other.

You're not sure what's so different now compared to before, but it's as if something has just... clicked. When you shook hands with him the first time, his warm fingers grasping yours, your eyes had met --- why did it seem like you were seeing him for the first time? His black hair was short, a cap tugged low over his forehead, the sun reflecting off his piercings. He didn't look any different than how you'd seen him before, but he was different.

"Did you make a wish?" Vinny asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. He's already holding a plate and fork, wondering who's going to cut the cake that he's impatient to try. He's been excited about it since Ryan snuck it in earlier today, he was the one who orchestrated the entire surprise. You hadn't said one word to anyone about your birthday, and Vinny doesn't understand why you'd want to keep it a secret --- if he'd known earlier he would have grabbed you a present!

Ryan knew simply because he's been better friends with you the longest, or so Vinny guesses. Actually, he's a little suspicious you guys have a thing you're not talking about. He catches you both looking at each other sometimes, sharing looks you think no one else notices.

You're always sending him messages and staring at him until he gets them, and Ryan gets this little smile on his lips before replying to you. You do it back and forth, you're not exactly subtle about it.

Vinny mentioned it to Ricky once, who just shrugged his shoulders and went back to typing on his computer. He made the comment you're both adults, just stupid, and can do whatever you want.

Vinny isn't sure what that means.

"Yes." You take the knife Chris offers you, starting to cut the cake in as fair-sized pieces as you can. They got your favorite, there's literally nothing you would change! There's balloons, confetti you'll have to clean later because none of them will, and even the paper plates are festive with red trim and balloon designs.

It's so cute.

You start delving out the pieces, saying hasty apologies if they fall over or cumble, but no one seems to mind. You're a little nervous to be the one who has to do this, you're a little worried a piece will fall in the floor, or collapse in half, or someone won't get their fair amount and there's a lot of people wanting the dessert.

"You should get the first piece of your cake, you know," Ryan says as he finally comes to stand beside you, holding two empty plates decorated with the childish balloons. You inhale sharply as his arms brushes yours, the scent of his cologne wafting over your senses. You'd been ignoring the fact he was getting closer to you, trying to not make it obvious that, well, you'd really like to get him alone and make your wish come true. "It's your birthday."

"I don't mind, it's just the cake." You reply, keeping your eyes down. Too many people around that could notice if you have this stupid expression on your face when you look at him. You always feel like a teenager on their first date, giggly and stupid, wanting to hold his hand and just grin constantly. You haven't felt anything like this in a long time, romance was sort of ruined for you, but it's as if, cheesily enough, Ryan has made you want it again.

Of course, there's the whole thing where he thinks it's best to keep your flirting to a minimum because you are coworkers, and he doesn't want to take it too far since you're on tour. You understand completely, it's why you've only kissed a few times, spontaneously, mainly because you can't stand it and just... well, he has such kissable lips!

They're soft, perfect, and he always tastes like candy somehow. You just want to curl your fingers into the collar of his black shirt, drag him to you and feel his lips curving against your own. The way his tongue teasingly brushes against your lips, urging them to open, to part so he can explore your mouth, it makes you weak at the knees. He kisses you so gently, and he doesn't let it get too far.

You want it to go too far, he has much more restraint than you do!

"I'll take over the cake cutting," Chris offers, taking the knife from you before you can even argue. Ryan replaces it with the second plate he was holding, and you blink, letting them shuffle you away from the table. Chris sort of looms over it as he finishes the job, and you let Ryan lead you off the bus, taking the few steps onto the gravel lot. Everyone is sort of hanging around at the picnic tables, which are far and few between and seriously weather-beaten.

If someone sits down too hard, you're sure the bench will collapse.

It's dark tonight, but there's a few streetlamps to send that ghastly glow on the wet pavement of the street. It's rained for the past few days of the trip, but at least it stopped tonight so you don't all have to huddle on the bus. The mist is eery, though, and all you can imagine is fifteen different horror movie villains emerging from it.

Most horror movies start with a party after all...

"All I can think about is how many ways we can all get murdered right now," you say after a moment, gingerly holding your plate in hand as you stare nervously at the mist. "Like, all horror movies start with a party and a bunch of unsuspecting victims. Jason is probably lurking right now putting numbers on our foreheads."

"Nah, so long as no one has sex or separates from the group, they're good," Ryan replies, shooting you that amused grin of his you love getting. You wish it wasn't so dark that you can't see his face well, but you're pleased that he's leaning against the table beside you, hip to hip. You can feel the warmth radiating off of him, and in your mind his arm is already slipping around your shoulder, pulling you to his side, lips pressing against your hair... you really need to get your imagination in control tonight.

"Doesn't sound like much of a party if no one gets to have any fun," you say lightly before taking a bite of cake, knowing he sends you a look. You're hoping over the next few weeks you can coerce him to take it a little farther, especially since you know there's going to be an upcoming hotel stay.

You'll make your own wish come true one way or another.

"You can have fun in other ways." Ryan says, shrugging his shoulders. You notice he's already done, sitting his empty plate on the table behind you.

"Yeah? Like what?" You challenge, hoping to get some kind of reaction from him. He's so quiet all the time, doesn't like to be in the limelight too much, but passionate about what he does. It's no wonder their band is so successful, all the guys seem dedicated.

"Board games, card games," Ryan leans back on his hands thoughtfully. "Truth or dare. Spin the bottle."

"Are we in middle school or something?" You send him an amused look. "We might as well play twister. Wouldn't the movie villain like to get us at our weakest?"

Well, you have a point.

"What movie villain?" Vinny asks from the next table over, wondering why you guys keep skirting around what you really want to talk about. He gets you want to be covert about it... but you suck. You're trying to talk softly and it's not working.

Ricky nudges him, but Vinny ignores him. "I mean, with the fog and everything, wouldn't it be more of a Jason or Michael Meyers kind of night?"

"More so Jason," you say. "Michael had some pretty specific targets. Jason was just stabby-stabby everyone."

"Ehh. I dunno. Freddy Krueger likes to make an entrance too." Ricky comments, since Vinny already put his two cents in. He was trying to give you guys some privacy, but since the conversation is public now...

You still slightly as you feel Ryans hand along your lower back, slowly drawing up your spine and making you shiver. You bite your lower lip as he lightly brushes between your shoulder blades, finding the movement comforting.

What would everyone do if you just turned and kissed him, just like that? Would they even be surprised? You know he would, considering he's wanting to keep it low key, but --- well, it's your birthday!

The only present you want is him!

All he needs is a bow in his hair and you'd be content, so long as you got to unwrap him.

Aaaand now your imagination is going wild again. You squirm against the table, inching closer to him, not only because it is actually cold and damp outside, but because you want him to hold you.

Just... just put his arm around your shoulder, even playfully! Mess with your hair, hug you, hold your hand or something! You're not going to be content with just sparse kisses and text messages.

Although you really like the kisses.

You find you've completely zoned out of the conversation, but Ryan is still caressing your back, almost absently. He doesn't seem to really be paying attention to what he's doing as he talks to the guys, and you feel yourself relax into him.

After a few minutes everyone begins clearing up, tossing their plates away, heading back for the bus. You and Ryan linger behind, and you force a conversation so hopefully it doesn't seem obvious what you're doing.

You wait impatiently until the last person has loaded up, relieved you're kind of standing in the back in the dark. You want to have at least a single moment with just Ryan, without anyone's prying eyes.

You cut your eyes around just to ensure you're alone before you turn, starting to speak, only to be interrupted.

Ryan barely gives you time to take a breath before he's cupping your cheek, tilting your face up so he can seal his lips against your own. It only takes you a moment to respond, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt as he tugs you against him.

Your heart picks up, hammering against your chest as his hand curves at your waist, holding you flush as he deepens the kiss, his tongue finding yours.

Okay so this is... not the quick, passionate kiss you expected to only last a minute or so. In fact, it's really lasting, and you're having a hard time remembering how to breathe. You find your arm slipping around his neck as you arch into him, threading your fingers into this thick dark hair and focusing entirely on him. He tastes like icing and your favorite cake, which only makes it better.

Ryan wishes he could take you somewhere else, that the two of you could spend some time alone. Not necessarily so he can rip your clothes off, which is what he wants to do this very second, but to get to know each other better.

Lust is fine and dandy, but it fizzles after a while, and a tour fling isn't really what he's looking for. He doesnt know what it is about you, but your perfume, the softness of your hair, the way you kiss him so urgently... just everything makes him want to know you better.

He's reluctant to break the kiss, but he knows it's been a few minutes and someone will start looking for you. You sigh in disappointment as he leans away, your eyes slowly opening to look up at him.

"Well that was a nice surprise," you say after a moment, a little breathless. You'd let your imagination run wild again, imaging all sorts of activities on the picnic table that could happen. You try not to get ahead of yourself, but it's hard not too.

"I was thinking," Ryans hands cup your hips, holding you to him even when you send a nervous look towards the bus. "When we run into Chicago, we have a few days there. We could catch a movie or something, some food."

"Are you asking me on a date?" You bite your lip, brightening. That's exactly what it sounds like, and you're suddenly excited! Is he serious?

"Uh, only if you say yes, otherwise no." Ryan shifts a little nervously, but you just grin up at him, clasping his face and pulling him down for another kiss.

Okay, so he'll take that as a yes.

~~~~~~~

"Do they realize we've been able to see them the entire time?" Vinny asks as he watches you and Ryan make out at the picnic table. "They're not invisible."

"Ah, let them think we don't know," Ricky shrugs his shoulders, brushing his black hair behind his ears as he glances up from his phone. "They're stupid, they think they have us all fooled."

Vinny snorts, slowly lifting another bite of cake to his mouth, watching as you and Ryan finally pull away from each other.

Ricky's right, you guys are stupid. No one is blind, like literally, Vinny can even see you guys are holding hands until you finally get beneath one of the streetlamps.

He waits until you both get on the bus, not looking at each other, both walking in complete opposite directions before saying, "Are you guys gonna stop pretending we don't see you making out every time we stop at the gas station?"

Ricky sighs; what did he just say!?

#ryansitkowski #miw fanfiction #miw imagines

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spideydaddyboy · 4 years

Text

SUGAR

CHAPTER 2

<<Previous Next>>

Series Masterlist

wc: 2011

(This chapter has to do with Gwen Stacy’s band, click here for a playlist of the set I put together even though only two songs are mentioned below)

The Fringe Cafe was in the middle of the city. A cool hipster coffee shop by day and a seedy alternative Bar by night. It was a regular gig for the Mary Janes. The band was front-lined by an old friend from high school, Michelle Jones-who wrote the small amount of original songs among their cover sets, and Gwen was on the drums. The rest of the band accrued through flyer’s they posted all over the city and was what they could get from the less than enthusiastic response to join their band. Over all they were pretty decent, the Fringe was a regular gig and even presented them as headliners.

They practiced during the in between hours when the cafe staff cleaned and left for the day and the bar crew came to set up. The stage was small, so there was only room for Gwen’s beast of a secondhand drum set and the rest of the band set up on the floor. It was kind of their thing to get up in the crowds faces when they jammed, it was great discounting the occasional grope a middle aged man tried to sneak in every other song. Michelle handled that pretty well, managing to break a finger in between chord variations.

Gwen breezed through the back door, yanking the orange cap off her head, shedding her jacket and bag on the retro black and white tiled floor, “sorry I’m late guys, I got held up.”

Michelle tapped the mic, providing ear shrilling feedback, Gwen grimaced, Michelle smirked, “what the hell are you wearing Stacy.”

The blonde looked down at her pressed creamy white blouse and navy flared corduroy pants, her black slip on docs the only thing adding back the substance the blouse and tartan headband took away, “I told you, I got held up, I didn’t even have time to change.”

Vinny on the bass snickered, “pop a few buttons at least,” earning a smack on the back of his head by their lead guitarist Margo.

Rolling her eyes, Gwen loosened the top three buttons on her blouse and tied the front, her (not quite natural purple shampooed) light blonde hair fell to her shoulders out of the tight ponytail she kept it in all morning, and reapplied a coat of cherry lip gloss to her lips. The set list laid out on one of the round empty tables by the stage and she took a long look at it before settling behind her drum set. Sound check had already been gone through during her absence and Gwen didn’t need a mic tonight, she gave the ready to Michelle who counted off for the first song, which was a cover of Harvard by Diet Cig.

When Gwen played the drums, it was a stress reliever, better than any drug. Pounding out all the doubt of her achievements, the uncertainty of success, her loneliness, all of it. By the end of a set Gwen would be on a surge of dopamine.

They finished the practice and took a break as patrons began to filtering through and getting drinks. Michelle was yet to turn 21 and Gwen didn’t particularly enjoy drinking, so they sat on the stage nursing glasses of cola. Vinny stood at the bar chatting up a pink haired twink and Margo was off in the back alley way taking a smoke.

“I finally nailed that gig at the Cherry Pit,” Michelle took a proud swig of her soda. “It’s an opening act for some emo pop group called ANGELCAKE or whatever but it’s an act nonetheless.”

Gwen grinned and tipped her glass, “kudos to you, we’ve been trying to get an in on that place for months. You’ve got a set of iron balls Michelle, I would’ve given up by now.”

The girl next to her smirked smugly and stood, “I’m gonna go to the ladies before we start, watch the tools?” Gwen agreed and finished off her drink, mounting the stage to fiddle with a loose screw they missed setting up.

“The Mary Janes huh?” A familiar voice rose above the drunken chatter, “didn’t peg you for a girl band.”

She spun, meeting a pair of deep blue eyes and a wide set of perfect teeth, “Harry!” Suddenly she lost the ability to breath, all too aware of the tastefully dressed billionaire's son in front of her, and the midriff accompanied with her cleavage on display in the same blouse she introduced herself in earlier that day, “oh my god, what is Harry Osborne doing here of all places?” She itched to button her shirt, but knew it would only draw his attention.

An amused smile played on his lips, “you, surprisingly. I asked around and was told by your roommate Sam I’d find you here.”

“Oh,” she squeaked, noting to give Samantha an earful when she got home. “Uh yeah, started playing drums in band class and upgraded to this after I graduated. My friend MJ and I always wanted to and here we are I guess.”

“MJ? Mary Jane?” Harry thought he had made a connection and Gwen was bemused.

“No, Michelle Jones, but it’s quite a coincidence,” she gestured at the instruments. “Are you staying for the show? The set starts in a few minutes and it’ll maybe only last 25 minutes long, I mean if you can stand a little punk music.”

He slid off his designer jacket and threw it on the floor next to what he recognized to be Gwen’s puffer, “I think I’ll manage.”

Michelle appeared from behind Harry and googled at him, Gwen grinned, “great, looks like we’re about to start.”

“I wouldn’t stand at the front if I were you,” Michelle piped, swinging her electric over her shoulder.

Vinny left his boyfriend for the night at the bar and Margo slouched in place, the smell of cigarette smoke coming off her in waves. Michelle introduced them as the ‘Fabulous and Marvelous Mary Janes’ and Gwen started the count off with a few hard hits of her sticks. Through the rowdy crowd, she made eye contact with Harry, who stood toward the middle in his own little pocket, eyes lit up as he watched her play. She gave him a daring smile and he winked, luckily her face was already red from how hard she played. The drums were like an extension of herself, her body seemed to respond to them naturally, like she knew all the right places to hit and create the perfect clash of acoustic. To Gwen, it was her art.

Half way through the set, Gwen noticed Peter in the back corner when she looked up to wipe the sweat from her eyes. He gave her his signature boyish grin and she beamed. It was only by occasion since the start of the school year that Peter would pop by her gigs, at least that was what she thought. He would take breaks to listen outside for a couple minutes during his rounds for every gig she had, tonight he decided to make a personal appearance after listening to how she felt apart from him lately, in fact he was pretty excited to see her play. It had been a while since the last time.

They finished off the set with a modern punk version of Don’t You(Forget About Me) by the Police, out of breath and drenched in sweat. Gwen untied the tartan fabric headband and used it to wipe the perspiration off her forehead and dabbed it along her chest, army shaky and weak. Two boys came to greet her; the Prince and the Pauper.

Peter went straight for Gwen once she rounded the drums to the edge of the stage, giving her a tight squeeze and disregarding how damp she was, Harry looked on from a distance, “that was so great! I forget how amazing you are with those beats!”

Harry stepped forward when Peter let go, eyes darting between the two, “you guys sounded great Gwen, I wish I’d seen it sooner.” The two men scrutinized each other and Gwen made the first move.

“Uh, Harry Osborne, this is Peter,” she gestured to her long time friend.

Peter caught on and held his hand out to shake and Harry put forth, squeezing his hand back a little two hard, “boyfriend?”

“NO!” Gwen and Peter mirrored each other, bright red and flustered at Harry’s assumption. “No,” Gwen continued, “just good friends, we’ve known each other since high school, Michelle too who you met kind of already.”

“Oh I apologize,” he laughed it off and Peter hinted at the relief in his composure. “Well it’s late, and my driver should be around here soon…”he trailed off.

Nervously Gwen held her hand out, “let me give you my number, in-in case you wanna come to any more gigs, I can get you the details without you having to search for me.”

Harry looked delighted as he gave the disheveled blonde his phone, unaware of the harsh glare Peter directed toward him, “great! Great, it was nice to see you, I’m glad I came. I’ll be in touch,” he mused and nodded in Peter’s direction before weaving his way out to the door.

Peter felt uneasy, “didn’t think you had the guts to invite him to your gig Gwennie.”

“I didn’t,” she let out all the breath trapped in her lungs. “He just showed up, said he asked around for me-I’m gonna beat Samantha to a pulp when I get home.”

He chuckled, swinging his keys around on his finger, “need a lift? Subway’s kind of dangerous this time of night.”

“Yeah, let me grab my bag,” she muttered and struggled to untie the knot in her shirt.

Peter huffed and swatted her sweaty fingers away, tugging at the fabric himself and Gwen along with it in a few stumbly steps. She held her breath again with Peter being in such close proximity, heat rolled off his fingers onto the skin of her stomach and up close she could see every individual eyelash as he looked down. The blouse jerked free from its tangle and he did up the last couple buttons where he untied, leaving the top ones for Gwen to handle, his blush hidden by the red stage lighting in the room.

“I’ll be by the door,” he gestured with his keys and maneuvered his way to the entrance.

Things scooped in hand and ears fully covered, Peter and Gwen hopped in the beat up pumpkin colored Chevy low rider Peter saved up for their Senior year, it was as orange as her knit cap. The radio played low, a classic rock tape Peter made drifted through the silence. It was surprisingly quiet for the city tonight.

Gwen leaned her head against the glass, eyes closed, the back of her head tilted back against the headrest. At an intersection Peter looked over and observed her, the smoothness of her fair skin, how the stoplight reflected off of it and gave her a blushed glow. Her lips, pink and parted with the remnant of lip gloss sweated off earlier in the evening smudged across the corners. He reached over and it came off easily with his thumb. Before he could replace his hand on the wheel, Gwen reached up and grasped it firmly in her hands, then placed them in her lap. He chuckled, aware she was fully passed out, but he wouldn’t miss a golden opportunity to be held in her hands. So he kept it there as the light turned green, steering with his left until he got to her apartment and ruefully had to tug his hand away. He watched her for a few quiet moments, listened to her take in a breath and went around to the other side of the truck to carry her up the stairs without waking her. Tucked in her blankets, Peter took one more second to look at her face, so calm and beautiful. He placed a kiss on her forehead and decided to call it a night.

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(A/N): THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! Again I am super excited to duke this series and lay out all the crazy plot twists and love triangles that comes with a good fanfic, I hope you enjoyed! (If you wanna check out more of my writing, click here!)

**Please contact me to be added to the taglist :)

Taglist:

Permanent Taglist: @yourwonderbelle

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virtueangel · 3 years

Text

limitless.

chapter thirteen.

wc: 2,245. original publish date: october 27, 2020.

"Christ, Jack, what did you do?" Van Gogh mutters. He and JFK are in the master bathroom, Kennedy sitting on the tiled floor while Vincent sits on the side of the bathtub, scrubbing John's arm with a warm rag, fresh blood trickling into the basin.

"Exactly what you told me not to," John replies, smiling.

Van Gogh and JFK sat on the rollercoaster track for some amount of time -- it could've been minutes or hours, it made no difference to them. They didn't talk outside of the occasional, your eyes are pretty or your skin is soft, and eventually they stood up and walked back to the service ladder. They'd gotten lucky on their ascent, managing to avoid all the rusty metal. On their descent, though, JFK hadn't been so good at avoiding.

Vincent takes the rag off of John's arm to examine the wound. There's a small amount of blood trickling out of it, but he can't see any rust contaminating his boyfriend's skin anymore. He gives one last swipe with the rag, smearing the blood from the wound before dabbing it up with the cloth. From the cardboard box on the lip of the bathtub next to him, Van Gogh fishes out a big rectangular bandaid and peels back the paper. He sticks it to JFK's arm, the cut vanishing from sight.

"You got your shot, right?" Vincent asks, an unwelcome twinge of panic seeping into his voice. "I could never live with myself if you got tetanus under my care."

"Under your care, huh?" Kennedy jokes. Van Gogh raises a warning eyebrow. "Yes, I got my tetanus shot," he adds in a more controlled voice.

Vincent smoothes down the bandaid before crumpling up the paper in his palm. "Good," he says before turning away and depositing the wrapper into the trashcan.

JFK bends his arm and looks down at it, assessing the bandage and the damage underneath. He smiles to himself in satisfaction. "You could be a doctor, Vinny."

Vincent laughs. "Yeah, because I'm so gentle."

Kennedy shrugs. "You didn't hurt me while you were patching me up."

Van Gogh turns to look at JFK, his elbow resting on the bathtub, his wet brown hair flopping over his face. The individual strands clump together, sticking to his forehead, his cheeks, his brow bones. He moves the hair out of his eyes with the back of his hand, and Vincent watches with a slack jaw.

When he finally gains his composure, and stops staring, he says, "I'm gentle with my hands, not with my words."

"You're gentle with your lips, too," JFK adds.

A sly smile tears across Vincent's face, and his cheeks glow pink. "Oh, stop that," he replies, shoving Kennedy playfully.

"Ow!" He whines, rubbing his arm in his over-exaggerated way. "Don't hit the wounded!"

"You're insufferable, my boy," Vincent smiles.

"Clearly you don't think so, considering you just saved me from tetanus."

Van Gogh laughs. "Come on, we don't need to be sitting on the bathroom floor anymore. I'm gonna go read." He stands up and heads for the bathroom door, JFK following shortly behind.

"Ooh, when he reads for fun!"

Vincent stops suddenly, and John nearly smacks into his back. "Jack."

"Vincent."

"We're missing school," he replies, turning around.

JFK and Van Gogh stare at each other for a couple of seconds, before bursting into mutual laughter.

"I don't care," JFK says once he catches his breath.

"Oh, me neither."

Van Gogh takes his book off of the nightstand on his side of the bed and pushes open the dormer window, listening to it squeal and shriek against the wind and rusty mechanism. He climbs out onto the balcony, setting his book down on one of the chairs before assessing how cool the air is and turning around to get a blanket.

"Are you going to come outside?" Vincent asks after retrieving a folded blanket from the bottom drawer of the dresser. JFK is sitting on the bed, the faint white glow of his phone screen illuminating his face.

He looks up at Van Gogh, his expression distant. "Hm? Oh, yeah in a second."

Vincent shakes the blanket, letting it out of its neat square before wrapping it around himself. "What're you doing?"

"Oh, you know..." JFK waves him off. "Just... texting."

Van Gogh stops, one hand on the dormer window, an eyebrow raised. "Who?"

John shrugs, as if to say no big deal. "Ponce de León."

"The guy with the weird pants?" Vincent asks.

JFK's eyebrows knit together, defensive. "His pants aren't weird!"

"I'm kidding," Vincent replies. Kind of.

Kennedy looks up from his phone when he feels Van Gogh still staring. "I'll be out in a bit. He just... needs some help on an assignment."

"Oh, because you'd be able to help."

JFK knits his eyebrows together. "Didn't you say earlier today that I'm smarter than I let on?"

Vincent scoffs. "You are smarter than you let on. But how could you possibly help Ponce with an assignment when you haven't even been at school?"

Kennedy begrudgingly switches off his phone, and rolls himself off of the bed. He picks up his own book from the nightstand on his side of the bed, and walks across the room until he's standing in front of Van Gogh.

"Come on," he says. "Let's go read on the balcony."

Vincent drops his book, and it thuds onto the hardwood floor. He winces internally, worrying about the paper cover bending backwards. He doesn't peel his gaze off of JFK to look at it, though. That's an issue for later.

"I'm not going to read," he says, his words curt.

"Are you going to draw?" JFK asks, and he can feel Vincent soften.

Van Gogh can never stay mad at Kennedy for long, not with his watercolour-green eyes boring into his brown ones. "Yes," he replies, his tone lighter and volume lower. "I am going to draw."

John glances at the book lying on the floor beside Van Gogh's socked feet. He nods toward it. "The cover's going to bend back."

Vincent bends his knees to pick up the book, never breaking eye contact with John. "Thanks," he says before brushing past the boy to switch out the novel for his sketchpad. He hears JFK step out the window and rest his foot on the balcony behind him. His phone is still sitting on the bed, the screen dim, but the phone unlocked. Van Gogh takes a guilty look behind him, making sure Kennedy is occupied.

If I could just see what they were really texting about... he thinks, and he takes the device in his hands. He taps the screen, restoring it to its full colour. His thumb hovers over the iMessage icon, but he stops himself before he can go any further. No, Vincent! Looking through your boyfriend's phone is a crazy boyfriend thing, and you're not a crazy boyfriend. He sets the phone back down on the bed and takes a deep breath, retrieving his sketchpad from his nightstand.

JFK is reading peacefully when Van Gogh steps back out onto the balcony. He seems to already be absorbed in his book.

"What class did Ponce want your help with?" He asks casually, still not convinced that leaving JFK's phone alone was the best decision to make.

The corners of Kennedy's mouth pull up. "Algebra II," he replies.

"You're not even taking that class," Vincent says, forcing a polite laugh.

John laughs with his full chest. Vincent's lips twitch. He always crumples under the boy's euphoria. "Yeah, I know. He always forgets that I'm in pre calc."

"Always?" Vincent asks, trying to make his voice sound bigger than he feels.

JFK laughs again, shaking his head. "Yeah. He always needs help with some of the later problems in the lessons. I guess he's too scared to ask the teacher for help."

Vincent opens his sketchbook, and his stomach lurches when he flips past an unfinished drawing of John. He remembers the day he drew it -- he sketched it from a picture he'd taken. Kennedy is sitting on his bed in Exclamation!, his Colgate model grin filling up his face and his eyes crinkling with laughter. His hand is shielding his face, like he didn't want Vincent to take the picture. His hair is bigger than ever, perfectly styled with hair gel. His green eyes are glowing. Van Gogh had almost forgotten what genuine happiness looked like.

"Well, I guess you would be able to help him with the answers, considering you took the class last year..."

JFK shrugs. "I guess so, but I didn't really retain anything."

Vincent smiles at the boy with the corner of his mouth, but John doesn't notice. He's already lost in his book again. Van Gogh shakes his head and looks away. JFK isn't a cheater. He's not good with commitment, but he wouldn't get into something if he couldn't stay in it. But then again, they never really had the conversation about monogamy...

Van Gogh rests the sketchpad on his lap, the unfinished drawing of John still smiling up at him.

"Jack?" He asks, the smallest whisper of hesitation in his voice.

JFK shuts his book, his finger wedged in between the pages, keeping his place. "Yes?"

Vincent swallows. "I think you're beautiful."

Kennedy returns the boy's smile before casting his gaze down at the portrait of himself. "Can I see?" He asks, extending an arm.

Van Gogh hands him the sketchpad without a second guess. JFK studies the drawing, an affectionate smile painting his lips and a soft glow in his eyes. "Why'd you draw it in coloured pencil?"

Vincent shrugs. "I thought it captured your aura."

"What does green mean?"

Van Gogh shakes his head. "I wasn't paying attention to that. I just like the colour of your eyes."

JFK looks up at Vincent, a fire burning in his heart as a similar fire burns in the boy's eyes. "Is that what makes me beautiful?"

Van Gogh looks away, shrugging. "I don't know. I'm noticing a lot of things about you that I hadn't before."

Kennedy wants to ask what he means, what he's noticing, but the boy is turned away and his shoulders are hunched. He doesn't ask for the sketchbook back. JFK guesses the conversation is over.

***

Van Gogh wakes up in the middle of the night, the wind howling through the cracks in the dormer window and the loose latch banging ominously. JFK is sleeping on his back and Vincent was sleeping on his stomach, his left arm and leg draped over his boyfriend. He rolls away from Kennedy, rubbing his eyes against the darkness. Next to him, John grunts.

"Shh," Vincent says.

"Vinny..." He whispers groggily, reaching for the boy.

Van Gogh rolls back over to JFK, giving him a light kiss on the lips. "Go back to sleep, Jack. It's still nighttime."

"So why are you awake?"

"Shh..." Vincent says again before climbing out of bed.

He creeps down the stairs, hand trailing over the railing, his footsteps soft. He walks through the archway to the kitchen, trying to rifle through the junk drawer next to the stove as quietly as possible. His hand closes around the box of matches, and he lifts it out of the drawer, glancing over his shoulder every other second. He walks the box to the kitchen table, where the magenta tapers are still sitting. He strikes the match against the side of the box, watching as it sparks and fizzes before his eyes. He inhales the scent of the sulphur and the burning wood, letting it wrap around his soul. The warmth nestles in his heart, and he is one with the fire. He feels himself burning from the inside out, his internal organs the wick and his skin the wax. He lights the magenta candles after a couple of seconds, his mouth relaxed and his face resting. The flames reflect against the whites of his eyes as the wicks of the candles catch fire and the wax begins to melt.

"Burn," he whispers. "Down to the wick, down to the floor. Take the whole town with you, take the whole world."

The light flicks on, and Van Gogh whips around. Standing in the archway is a groggy JFK, his hair disheveled and the bags under his eyes dark. He wipes a hand across his puffy face, his vision blurry.

"Vincent?" He asks, his voice drowned in mucus.

Van Gogh blows out the candle and the match, and sits on his hands. His eyes widen when he turns to Kennedy, his face flushed and lips red.

"Yes?"

"What are you doing?" John asks, and it sounds more confused than accusing.

Van Gogh shakes his head urgently. "I- I don't know. I just felt like I had to come down here. I felt too awake."

JFK squints, but doesn't make an argument. "Come back up to bed, Vinny. It's three in the morning."

Van Gogh nods, abandoning the matchbox and the candles. He follows JFK out of the kitchen, flicking the light off behind them. He grabs onto the boy's hand as they walk up the stairs, interlacing their fingers tentatively. John gives Vincent's hand a reassuring squeeze, pulling the shorter boy in closer to him. They climb into bed and assume the position they'd been sleeping in before, the left side of Van Gogh's body draped over JFK.

#clone high #clone high jfk #clone high van gogh #jfgogh #limitless

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ontherockswithsalt · 5 years

Text

A Made Man

(chapter index)

(ao3 story link)

A/N: Eeeeek! Noble Sanfino meets a Reagan. Also, these domestic boyfriends need to cut the shit because I love them forever and I can’t take it you guuuyyyyyssss.

Chapter 40.

“I would have picked you up at the airport,” I call out from the bedroom where I set Noble’s duffel bag, then make my way back out.

He finishes shedding his winter coat at the door, leaving him to look all rumpled and cute in jeans and a pullover hooded sweatshirt. After he takes off his hat, he runs his fingers through his mess of wavy brown hair. “The roads are icy,” he argues. “So, no.”

I have to roll my eyes. “You know I was born and raised here. And it’s not that serious.”

He meets me in the living room and drops his arms around my shoulders to wrap me in a hug. “True,” he mumbles into the side of my neck. “Maybe you should have because then we could have pulled off on the side of the road somewhere--”

“Yes, exactly.” Gripping his sides, I tilt my chin to capture his lips with my own. The heat of my mouth warms the chill of his, of his cheeks and his cold nose.

With a disappointed groan, he grasps my face in his hands and eases away. “Fuck my delayed flight. I thought I’d get here sooner,” he complains, then draws his brows together. “But she’s on her way, isn’t she?”

I sneak one more kiss, then turn to grasp his hand at my cheek. Twisting his forearm, I check his watch. “Yeah, we don’t have time.”

“Well that’s really fucking rude because you smell good and look hot, but now I’ve got to act decent for your sister.”

I smirk. “Just for a little while,” I tell him. “She won’t stay long. Then we have all night to be indecent.”

Noble begins to back away as he shrugs. “It’s not that I don’t want her to stay. But first thing’s first, you know?”

With a laugh, I push my palm against the center of his chest. “Yeah, I know.” And while we could probably get a quick one in with a minute or two to spare before Erin arrives, I don’t want to chance it. “Later,” I assure him, squeezing my hand a few times at his shoulder.

With a hard exhale, he decides, “I need to go change” and turns toward my bedroom. “Your place looks nice.”

“Thanks. And you don’t have to change. You look fine.”

“I want to, though.”

“Trying to look hot for my sister?”

“Don’t give me that. And look who’s talking.”

“Stop.” I chuckle.

“Hey speaking of--” He starts and I glance over to see him return to the doorway of my bedroom in the middle of taking off his shirt. “Did you know Vinny’s ass slept over at the penthouse with Bianca?”

I tilt my head, pressing my lips together while I decide how to answer. I give myself away when I simply echo his question. “Did I know that?”

Noble spreads his hands and his mouth opens, insulted. “You knew? What, did Vinny tell you?” Then he walks away and I hear him unzip his bag.

“I actually saw him in the kitchen before everyone was up. He was on his way out first thing in the morning.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” He calls out.

Crossing the apartment to come closer to the bedroom, I tip my head back anticipating what kind of trouble I’m in. “I figured I’d let one of them tell you their business if it became something worth telling. I guess Bianca told you, then.” Grasping the frame of the doorway, I swing forward and watch him sort through his stuff, finding his toothbrush and another shirt.

“She told me they talk like, everyday.”

Arching one brow, I shoot him a look. “Vinny told me they talk, but didn’t say how often.”

Noble just meets my eyeline from across the room and blinks as we share this unspoken exchange that’s like, do we really want to know?.

Then, glancing down, he tosses a checked dress shirt and a grey sweater on the bed. “This, and this?”

I consider the options, coming further into the room. “One or the other, but not both,” I tell him. “It’s Saturday morning and Erin’s just coming to have coffee. It’s really not a big deal.”

He touches his fingertip to the center of his chest. “It’s a big deal to me.”

I can’t help my gradual, charmed smile. “You know what I mean.”

Making this dissatisfied face, he scrunches his cheek. “I need more time. I could have made something to have with the coffee. These last few weeks--” he starts in, “I’ve been really into scones. And perfecting that recipe. I do one with cinnamon butter--”

“Noble.”

“The secret is freezing the butter and cutting it in with a cheese grater-- what?” He deflates, attempting to unwind his anxiety, but he can’t.

I approach him. “You don’t have to make scones. You don’t have to make anything.”

He just clenches his jaw and makes a little frustrated noise.

“I know,” I assure him, reaching for him at his sides. “You just want to.”

“Yes.”

“Well what I want is for you to relax and just be yourself."

He leans into me, tipping his forehead to mine. "I'd be more relaxed and myself if I made food right now."

I laugh softly, sliding my hands up his back. "I'm surprised you want to bake. I thought it stresses you out."

"In the winter, the urge strikes."

It’s not the final product that relaxes him, but the act of cooking itself while around another person. It’s his defensive armor, keeping him busy and focused somewhere else. Without it, he’s exposed. It’s just him and he’s still working on that.

“I love you.” I tell him, soft and evenly as I ease my head back to look at him. “And I’m proud of you.”

He lets out a groan, but I catch the faint smile at his cheeks before his head dips to my neck.

“And this is the only time you’re gonna hear me say this this weekend,” I add. “But put a shirt on.”

His back rumbles with a quiet laugh and then he picks up his head. Leaning in, he leaves me with a hard kiss that lingers just long enough to make me regret telling Erin she could come over the same morning my boyfriend was scheduled to arrive.

But he pulls away, running a hand across the back of my head and along my face before he turns to the bed for his clothes.

A few days ago at the courthouse, Erin asked to grab a birthday drink with me this weekend, but Noble’s trip to New York was already planned. After, admittedly, trying to dodge telling her the real reason I was booked, I managed to let her know that he’d be here. I offered a meet-up of all three of us at a bar and she got all blinky and overly-concerned that she’d infringe on some sort of date night, and we decided on a morning coffee drop-in at my place instead.

“She’s here,” I call out when I hear the buzzer near my door just as Noble’s finishing up in my room. I noticed he had decided on the button-down shirt, left untucked with his jeans and I cross the apartment to lay a finger on the call button. “Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s me,” she announces through the speaker.

“Come on up.” Then I press the buzzer until the door downstairs unlatches and I hear her let herself into the building.

Noble clears his throat as he paces my living room. “I’m uh--” and then he lets out this weary little nervous laugh. “I’m just gonna go out on the fire escape and throw up. Is that--? I won’t be long.”

“Hey,” I chuckle, meeting him near the couch. “I don’t want you to worry. It’s just my sister.”

Pressing his lips together, he looks at me for a moment of reassurance.

“I’m nervous too,” I confess. Lifting my chin, my gaze meets his jumpy one. “So I need you, okay?”

"Alright, don't be gross." He pushes a teasing, dismissive fist against my shoulder. “Get it together.”

I return the shove, but there isn’t time to say much else before Erin’s knocking at the door. So we just reassure one another with a look that connects for a second, long enough to soothe my heartbeat before I cross through my apartment.

I pull open my door and Erin stands on the other side, a smile on her face while her eyelashes flutter happily. "Good morning." She greets with this sort of question in her eyes and when she leans in for a quick hug, she's already letting her gaze dart all around past my shoulder.

"Morning." I return her hug with a squeeze, then back away to let her follow. "Come in."

"It smells good in here," she seems to note to herself. "It's so clean-- Hi, I'm Erin!"

"Erin, I'm Nick." Noble meets her just past the entryway and grasps her outstretched hand. "It's great to meet you."

She doesn't go in for a hug, just kind of grins and assesses him in a way I can tell is both nervous yet interested. Then she glances over at me and holds up the bottle in her other hand. "Oh. And this is for you. Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.” I take the bottle of wine from her and examine it.

“Maybe you two can crack that open tonight,” she suggests, and with her hands free, starts to unbutton her coat.

Twisting the label toward Noble beside me, I offer him a glance at the Cabernet and he nods, murmuring, “Nice” before I pass behind him toward the kitchen.

“Maybe we will,” I call out, setting it on the counter as I move to the coffee pot. And I’m a little amused at how pleased she was with herself with that you two. “Look at you all nice and thoughtful. You got me suspicious now,” I tease.

She scoffs. “Suspicious of what?”

“Here, I can take that.” I hear Noble offer, and I glance over to see Erin pass him her coat before he goes to one of the hooks near the door.

“Thank you,” she sighs, then makes her way closer and pulls up a stool on the other side of my butcher block counter. “I can’t make a thoughtful gesture to my brother on his birthday?”

I simply hum in amusement as I push the button to start the brew on the coffee maker.

“Okay fine,” she continues. “Maybe I just want Nick to be impressed.”

Noble joins us to stand beside Erin and I glance over to see the surprised look on his face.

She peers up at him. “Jamie told me you’re quite the wine expert.”

I cut my sister a look that lets her know she doesn’t have to recount everything I’ve told her.

“Oh--” He starts. “No-no-no. I’m not… an expert by any means. More like a wine… hobbyist.”

With a nod, Erin laughs her approval.

“I’m on the amateur circuit,” he jokes. “What you brought looks good to me.”

“Come on,” I groan. Opening the overhead cabinet, I take down a few mugs, then turn to face them. “You told me if you could teach any college course, it would be a wine appreciation class.”

“Yeah, that was me trying to look cool on our first date,” he retorts with this damn cute grin that catches me off guard and I have to look away and pretend to concentrate on something else before my cheeks get hot at the mere memory.

“First date!” Erin echoes. “I want to hear about the first date.”

“Oh man,” I utter with this weary moan, trying to fight off a smile and I shake my head. “No way. And I already gave you a summary of the timeline,” I remind Erin.

“Oh, I wanna hear!” Noble slides his elbows onto the countertop and props his chin on one hand. “I feel like I definitely need to know your version of events here.”

“Shhh--” I chuckle, letting a look settle on him. “Our first date. We had sushi downtown. You said you’d teach a wine class. That’s all she gets.”

Both Noble and Erin sputter a laugh, most likely because of their collaborative ability to rattle me with hardly any effort.

With a sweeping gesture, I start to usher them out of the kitchen. “Can we go sit in the living room? I don’t need this kind of grief on my birthday.”

#jamie x noble #put me down for hoping jamie steals that hooded sweatshirt later

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wrestlingisfake · 4 years

Text

Final Battle preview

Rush vs. PCO - Rush is defending the ROH world title. As far as I can remember, Rush is undefeated in Ring of Honor. The only singles loss in ROH that I could find for PCO was his last shot at the world title. It is probably worth noting that each man’s contract is expiring at the end of the year, and there has been little word on whether either of them plans to re-sign.

Rush is probably the hottest star in wrestling that isn’t signed to WWE, AEW, or New Japan. You see his entrance and you can tell this guy is a big ass deal, far beyond anything else going on in ROH. I’m still surprised they managed to sign him. Pierre Carl Ouellet, meanwhile, is a minor name from the 1990s enjoying a cult resurgence as a monster brawler with a Frankenstein gimmick. At 51, PCO isn’t a hot prospect bound for the big leagues, but he’s a can’t-miss draw at the super-indy level. So this is arguably the biggest match ROH could deliver in 2019. It reminds me of a big match from ROH’s early days, where a WWE fan wouldn’t get the appeal but hardcore indy fans saw it as a dream match.

Even someone like me, who only half pays attention to ROH, can see the appeal of this match. Rush’s matches are fast and intense, and he quickly destroys guys with big explosive moves. PCO’s matches are about how he feels no pain and keeps getting back up to do increasingly insane spots. This is, fundamentally, the irresistible force meeting the immovable object. I can’t believe we’re getting such a match from “The guy who taught Tetsuya Naito how to be cool” versus “The Mountie’s tag team partner,” but such is wrestling in 2019.

Ring of Honor has really fallen off a cliff this year. The core of their star power left to found AEW, and their alliance with New Japan seems to be at its lowest ebb. The whole controversy of CMLL firing Rush and Dragon Lee, who have become key figures here, would also seem to be a bad sign for the ROH/CMLL alliance as well. So it’s been a rebuilding year for the company, and frankly I haven’t been impressed with what they’ve rebuilt. Except for this one match. This is very symbolic of their one shot to turn things around for 2020. I hope they don’t blow it; I expect that they will somehow.

My gut tells me Rush is moving on to greener pastures, whereas PCO probably can’t do much better than being a big fish in a small pond. Wild as it sounds, I think we might get a title change tonight.

Jay Briscoe & Mark Briscoe vs. Jay Lethal & Jonathan Gresham - This is for the Briscoes’ ROH tag team title. The biggest question mark here is that Lethal broke his arm back in October, and although he’s vowed to make it to this match it remains to be seen if he’ll be healed enough to really go.

I haven’t followed the story closely, but Lethal and Gresham were friends until Gresham decided that he needed to cheat to get ahead, and then they fought over that, and then they reconciled, and now they’re both whacking the Briscoes with chairs. I’m still not sure if the Briscoes ever officially turned babyface this year. So to me this is a pretty standard 2019 ROH story, where there are no heroes and everyone’s an asshole.

In theory this should be a down-and-dirty brawl between two teams that would prefer to fight than wrestle. But since it’s not officially billed as a street fight or anything, what we’ll probably end up with is a basic wrestling match where they just sneak a few weapon shots and low blows behind the ref’s back. That’s fine to build to a bigger, wilder spotfest later, but not so much to be a featured tag match on Final Battle. I guess Lethal and Gresham will win the belts with shenanigans to set up a rematch.

Shane Taylor vs. Dragon Lee Ryu Lee - Taylor is defending the ROH television title. Dragon Lee had been a big name in CMLL, and a frequent representative of the company in New Japan, and of late he’s been getting involved in ROH through his brother Rush. But since CMLL suddenly fired him, and they own the rights to the name, he’s now adopted the name “Ryu Lee,” using the Japanese word for “dragon” to honor his new deal with New Japan. Lee’s preference among those three companies is to work for New Japan, so now that he’s got that contract I am very curious whether he remains a ROH regular. I suspect this match will be the first clue. Taylor has been a dominant champion but Lee has friends in high places, so the one they want to push should be very telling. I’m kinda thinking Taylor retains.

Matt Taven vs. Vincent - Vincent used to be Vinny Marseglia, a member of The Kingdom stable with Taven and TK O’Ryan. I’m not sure what happened to O’Ryan after Taven lost the ROH world title, but Vincent turned on Taven and has gone all in on the gimmick of being a horror movie slasher. This means Taven is doing the “asshole champion you come to respect drops the title and then improbably turns babyface” thing. I’m not sure I buy that, but I guess ROH kinda has to make the best of what they have to work with. All I know is when I see Taven plugging his DVD I’m just reminded of when TNA put out that Jeff Jarrett retrospective as if he was Triple H or something. Anyway, I guess the King of Kings King of the Mountain King of the Kingdom needs to win this match.

Mark Haskins vs. Bully Ray - This is being billed as a street fight, so the match cannot end by count-out or disqualification. Bully Ray has been playing the bitter veteran bullying young guys for the better part of two years now. He was mainly feuding with Flip Gordon, but even after they blew that off he just kept doing it, and when Flip turned heel they just sort of switched to Haskins. They’ve even got Bully going after Mark’s wife like he did with Flip’s wife. It’s the exact same fucking thing. Which, I suppose, means Bully has to win this match to generate more heat for more rematches. I would literally rather be escorted into a room where Bully bitches me out for being a bad fan than watch this crap one more time.

Marty Scurll & Flip Gordon vs. Bandido & Flamita - All right, so months ago Juice Robinson came to ROH to found a stable called Lifeblood, with the goal of elevating some new stars to replenish the roster after the AEW exodus. Well, in an apt metaphor for ROH’s fortunes in 2019, Lifeblood quickly fell apart with half the team disappearing from ROH, leaving Bandido, Mark Haskins, and Tracy Williams. They tried to recruit various guys to fill the void, but nobody has stepped up and Flip Gordon even turned heel on them to join Scurll’s Villain Enterprises. Then Flip blew out his elbow during the heel turn. Anyway, Haskins has his hands full with Bully Ray, and I don’t even know where Williams is, so now Bandido is starting a new tag team with Flamita and this is the closest we get to blowing off the Lifeblood/Villain Enterprises feud.

Scurll’s contract with ROH actually ended a couple of weeks ago, but he has a handshake deal to work this show and the one on December 15. The big questions now are which company he’ll sign with and how ROH will write him out of the company. But presumably those questions won’t be answered until the 15th, so even at this late date we’re still in a holding pattern, and I’m guessing they’ll keep acting like everything is normal.

Logic would suggest Scurll should do the job so ROH can put over Flamita and Bandido. Then again, it wouldn’t shock me to learn that Bandido is getting ready to leave, so you never know.

Jeff Cobb vs. Dan Maff - This is basically a battle of two big mean guys. Cobb is just back from a month-long tour with New Japan. Maff is a recent acquisition, and notably filled in for Brody King to help Marty Scurll and PCO defend the ROH trios title. That kinda makes me wonder if Maff could end up playing a role in the final fate of Villain Enterprises, but that probably won’t affect this match.

Cobb is--say it with me this time, folks--expected to have his contract come up soon, and may or may not be getting ready to leave. If he’s staying, he should probably win this match to build him up for whoever is champion going forward. If he’s leaving...well, Maff seems to be a budget version of Cobb, so it would make sense to have him be the guy to send Cobb packing. We’ll just have to see what happens.

Angelina Love vs. Maria Manic - Love won the women’s title at the last ROH show I watched, but it turns out she lost it back to Kelly Klein shortly thereafter. Then Klein suffered a concussion, which turned into a pretty big story abut ROH not taking care of her and letting her contract expire, and I don’t know what’s going on with the women’s title anymore. I occasionally wonder if they’ll even continue to have a women’s division after this show. Manic is clearly their big new project, but apparently they almost let her go to NXT before locking her into a contract.

The story of the match is that Manic is a big mean monster and Love is terrified of her. Usually in this kind of story the heel gets to demonstrate that they can come up with some clever way to outwit the monster, and the match is about whether that works or not. But as far as I know they haven’t given Love anything--she seems to just be a lamb led to the slaughter. It’s possible Love is preparing to leave and this is the blowoff for her character. If so, I’m not sure who will be left to fight Manic. There’s only like five other active women in the official roster, and I haven’t seen any of them wrestle in months.

Dalton Castle & Joe Hendry vs. Silas Young & Josh Woods - This is scheduled for the pre-show. Young and Woods are apparently calling themselves “2G1T” (“Two Guys, One Tag”), which is possibly the most alarming sign of the creative energy left in this company. I think Castle and Hendry have been passive-aggressively feuding and teaming for months and I’ve kinda given up trying to figure out where this is headed. I guess Castle and Hendry win.

Rhett Titus vs. Kenny King - Another match set for the pre-show. Titus and King were a tag team ages ago, but now King is a wannabe top heel and Titus is a prelim guy. Well, I guess they’re both in the pre-show so technically they’re both prelim guys. I assume the point is to give King a win, but if this guy was ever going to be something in ROH, he would already be well beyond the point that beating Titus would mean anything.

#roh #ring of honor #final battle #rush #pco

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