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angrylizardjacket · 3 years

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it's in the blood // this is tradition

Summary: Children inherit all sorts of traits from their parents. Not all these traits are good.

"My reputation preceded me before I was born."

[ charlotte & lola au ]

A/N: 2292 words. Halsey's new album killed me on the spot. i talk a lot about the next gen being mirrors of their parents, but i'd like to go into detail about that not necessarily being a positive. @misscharlottelee this made me feel things. i love these kids.

Warnings: overdose mention, addiction discussion, mentions of drug abuse.

Penelope Dingley-Lee

Tommy can count the amount of times he'd seen Razzle truly angry on one hand, and here and now he can see it again, written all over his neice's face. He'd thought she would look like Charlie when she's angry, and occasionally she does, the way her lip curls derisively, dismissively, that's very reminiscent of his cousin, but here and now, her blue eyes are hazy, cloudy, and her lips twist with an irate arrogance that is worryingly familiar.

Angry and high and wearing clothes that don't quite match, in this moment she's exactly her father's daughter.

She's been in the papers again. Her tits have been in magazines again. Tommy bites down on his instinctual desire to repremand her; she'd call him a hypocrite, call him an old man, tell him to keep his opinions to himself while she could still buy his sex tape out of a shady car boot down the street.

Charlie was like that too, on occasion, wit too quick for him to keep up with. When she got into a mood like this, Tommy didn't have to worry so much; usually Razzle would egg her on, but knew when to pull her back.

"It's my god given, motherfucking right to go feral -" he'd heard Charlie back in the eighties holler at three in the morning, high on amphetamines and waving a gossip rag above her head. Razzle would be on the sofa, equally fucked up, but gazing at her like she hung the stars in the sky.

"Lola gets photographed at least once a month stark naked along the strip like it's a sport, why is my Playboy shoot a national crisis?! My tits are fantastic!"

"They are, my love," Razzle nods seriously, and Tommy pulls his pillow from beneath his head, trying to either block out their voices through the thin walls, or maybe smother himself. The girl beside him, the groupie whose name he doesn't know, asks blearily why there's so much yelling. Tommy doesn't answer.

A week later, Tommy is the one to bail out Charlie and Razzle for public indecency, and they're both beaming from ear to ear.

Here in the present, Penny is draped out on the sofa, laughing low and pleased as she watches TV.

"TMZ blurred out my tits," she snorts, "cowards."

"Penny..." he can't help the faintly disappointed notes in his voice when he says her name.

"Thomas, I've read The Dirt," Penny fires back venemously. Hypocrite he hears in her tone, you have no power over me.

There's something hollow in her eyes in the photos he sees of her in the papers. She wears her father's inflluence and her heart on her crushed velvet sleeve, on the arm of a shallow, pretty, band boy who plays badly and loudly. But she laughs louder, though tthe sound is low and unconvincing if anyone bothered to listen hard enough, and Tommy wonders if he has enough dark hair dye left for when that boy breaks her heart.

Jupiter Lee

Tommy is proud to watch Jupiter on stage, but he is afraid.

Their anger is something he remembers from Lola, the way they cling to the past with vitriol echoes their mother, but on stage, they drink up the attention, get high off the love the audience gives, and he sees himself in those moments.

A child of addicts, Jupiter had drawn lines in the sand for themselves that they refused to cross; no alcohol, no drugs, and they'd stayed loyal to that. But highs come in all forms; they simply picked a different kind of poison without realising.

On stage, halfway between the gutter and a god complex, Tommy knows the smile they wear all too well.

Rebellion from Jupiter didn't shock the world like it did when it was Penny's name in the papers. Jupiter's trajectory was spot on in the eyes of the public, but rebellion wouldn't be the thing that broke them.

Once, so long ago that it's a miracle the memory survived, Tommy remembers asking Lola what she would be doing if she wasn't with the band. Lola gave him an easy, bleary smile, laughing sweetly when she told him that one way or another, she'd be here. In the moment it overwhelms him with love. In hindsight it breaks his heart.

"Come on, I think this is inevitable," Jupiter smiles on television as an interviewer asks them the same question; if they weren't making music what they'd be doing, "as if I'd do anything other than this."

'Don't you know where I come from?' is left unspoken, but Tommy still hears it.

He tries to picture himself in a life without the world at his feet the way he has now. No image comes to mind. Nothing else makes sense. Even if he wanted to do something else, wanted to grow up to be something else, he couldn't even begin to picture it for himself, tragedy and all.

They play their parts. They let history repeat itself. Jupiter makes mistakes Tommy and Lola had already learned from. Penny plays Jupiter's conciousness until the role grates on her nerves, diving head first into chaos, taking Jupiter with her with little convincing.

Tommy remembers this too.

When the world looks at Penny and Jupiter, they like to remember how Lola was seen as a bad influence on Charlotte, but forget that Tommy would have followed Charlotte in to Hell without hesitation.

Leo "Seo" Sixx

Lola has google alerts set up for her son, Seo, because he disappears for months without warning. Tommy asks how he is, and Lola looks to her phone with a tight smile, telling him that he's competeing in a skateboarding competition in Prague. She learned that from Twitter.

Seo comes and goes without warning, and talks to his siblings more than his parents. He loves them, but he hasn't allowed himself to stop for years. He doesn't know how. Then again, neither did Lola or Nikki.

"Jupiter thinks a lot about legacy, don't they?" He's in Tommy's kitchen, eating a poptart, when Tommy returns home one friday evening. He's waiting for Penny and Jupiter to finish getting ready, the three of them going out.

"Do your parents know you're in town?" Tommy asks with faint amusement, though there's a twinge of guilt in his gut when Leo considers that he should probably let them know. Says he forgot. Tommy's not sure if he believes him; like his parents before him, he tends to leave a lot unsaid. It's part of his charm, the world seems to think, but Tommy knows all to well how deliberate of an act it can be.

"Jup's got all this stuff in their head about legacy and who they should be," he continues his earlier thought, "which I guess makes sense, they tie a lot of themselves up in their identity," he shrugs, then, "I don't know Leo."

Tommy's not sure if he's talking about the grandfather he's named after, or himself.

"You've given this a lot of thought," Tommy says quietly, humouring him.

"I think a lot," Seo responds, "I've been thinking about going back on my meds, its weird being off of them." Of course this concerns Tommy, who knows objectively that Seo isn't his kid, but he's close enough that Tommy feels like he's allowed to be concerned. "I'm worried a doctor's note isn't going to be enough to let me compete at the Olympics on speed," falls too casually from Seo's lips, alarming Tommy in an instant. Though it must clearly show on his face, as Seo breaks out into an apologetic grin, "dextroamphetamine, for my ADHD. I've been trying to wean off it for the Olympics, it's been hard -" but his next words, said so blithe, so casual, have Tommy's heart stopping in his chest as he's thrown back thirty years, "I've been on them since I was like eleven years old; it was great, I could think, like the right amount, but now I... I think everything. I feel everything. Its a lot." He shrugs, like he didn't just become an echo of his father.

Seo's parents both died twice from overdoses, and now their son feels like he can't function without amphetamines.

Objectively Tommy knows that they work for Seo, that he's not abusing them he simply uses them to help him function, but the irony is not lost on him. It's a lot to unpack. He doesn't think to ask about the Olympics; it slips his mind until he sees Seo and a silver medal on his Twitter feed.

Lola calls Tommy in tears. She's proud, but she wishes she'd known, wishes she'd been able to watch it live, or go over and support him in person.

No-one in Seo's life seems to fully know or understand his intentions or actions, no-one can predict his next move. He puts up a bright facade, but like his parents before him, he does not trust the world to know him.

They don't know where he goes in the few months after the Olympics, all they know is that he doesn't come home.

Cerie "CerieThree" Sixx

Since she'd turned sixteen, Tommy has never seen Cerie Sixx without a smile. That is a very deliberate choice that she's made.

She's made a choice to rise above the percieved grime of her origins. She's halfway across the country, smiling for a camera she can control, editing her image before she lets it out into the world. Cerie Three - even the name the world knows reflects this; she's picked apart the context she was born into, disecting it, deciding which was useful to show the world, disposing of the rest.

She speaks warmly to her family, from what Tommy can gather, but the people on the peripheries of their life seem more like associates in the coldest sense of the world. Her smile doesn't reach her eyes half the time when she sees Tommy, and she shakes his hand when her brothers will hug him. The internet is closer to her than he is.

Cerie looks the most like her mother of all her siblings; she's 21, the exact same age Lola was when she met Tommy, but half the time he can barely see the resemblence. Lola had let the world see a villain at that age; Cerie had learned from that, had rejected that, rejected the cold, hard humanity of her mother's fronting. Cerie wanted to be perfect. Cerie had to be perfect, hyper aware of her own image, like her siblings seem to be, but the way she'd so effectively shaped her public identity was kind of terrifying.

Perhaps this was what it was like for people who didn't know Lola, only allowed to know the image she put out into the world, or people who only knew Nikki for his stage presence.

But the more Tommy thinks about it, the more he remembers just how effectively Lola had wrapped the band around her little finger when she set her mind to it, how she talked her way around exectives despite being dressed like she'd woken up in the gutter and fucked up on any number of drugs. Lola understood people, and it seemed Cerie did too.

Cerie Sixx, twenty one, doesn't stop creating content, doesn't stop studying, and doesn't stop smiling. Two of those three things are inhereted traits, inhereted determination, and the third is a choice.

Cyrus Sixx

Though Cyrus had inhereted much of his parent's musical talent, the same way Jupiter had, Cyrus had also inhereted a love of the high life. Even so, he's so full of love, kissing his mother on both cheeks before he goes out to get shitfaced in the bars she was decades before he was even born.

He works hard, at his job, on his music, but his partying matches it just as well. He knows exactly how far he has to fall before he meets the depths his parents' had sunk to, and though he doesn't voice this, his arrogance comes across in his actions.

There'd always be someone to pull him away from swan diving to rock bottom. He takes that for granted, and keeps getting closer and closer.

The only one of Nikki and Lola's children who still lives at home, he's the only one like them in the way they'd feared.

"He's going to have more success than he will ever be able to comprehend," Nikki had told Tommy, the day after Cyrus had been admitted to hospital after staying up for four days while high and obsessing over a song he had been working on. Nikki had found him having a fit after having fallen from his desk chair. Now, sitting on Tommy's patio in the sunset, he looks tired, he looks afraid, "if he doesn't end up killing himself first."

A month ago, the fire department and the police had to pull him, kicking and screaming and bareass naked from a tree in the middle of town. His parents had bailed him out, had felt a familiar sting of guilt as they find themselves reminded of their own youthful exploits. They repremand him, of course, but they both know the only reason they stopped climbing trees was because there had been no-one to pick them up after.

Nikki sees himself in his sons mistakes, but he'd had to learn concequences the hard way.

Tommy loves his family and all it's strange branches, as well as their raucous youth, but his closest friends were some of the most volatile people he'd known, and somehow he'd forgotten that as time as taken people and memories from him.

But these children were made in their image.

#nikki sixx #tommy lee #razzle dingley #nikki sixx x oc #tommy lee x oc #razzle dingley x oc #the dirt #motley crue #the dirt imagine #motley crue imagine #charlotte&lola #lola & charlotte #the angry lizard writes #the pack

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majortheboneless · 5 years

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Terror (chapter five)

Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx x Angie Dingley (OC)

A/N: Look, I've nothing to say about this. I don't know if I like this chapter, it almost had me dead, but now here it is. I hope you guys like it.

Summary: ? I don’t even ?

Warnings: language, violence, bad SMUT, alcohol and drug use.

The Dollhouse Club - Los Angeles

It was already 22pm when Angie got to the Dollhouse - the traffic was terrible - and she was worried that Vince would think she abandoned him cause she couldn't find him anywhere. Or any of the boys.

"A goddamn strip club" she chuckled to herself, while lighting a cigarette and pacing slowly towards the packed bar. Every man in that place was eyeing her up and down, as if she was a new striper, fresh meat for them. “Jack and coke, please” she announced, smiling to the cute bartender behind the counter.

"There you go" the girl slipped the little bottle of Jack Daniels, a can of coke and then the prettiest smile Angie has ever seen.

"Thanks, sweetheart" she opened the sealing with her thumb and chugged down the whole liquid.

"Wow" the bartender gasped and let out a giggle "What about the coke?" she leaned on the counter to get a better look at Angie.

"Do ya 'ave some? I'd love a bump" Angie meant it, even though she was just saying that to tease the girl.After seconds of eyes fucking each other, Angie noticed a really tall man approaching the stool next to her, he sat facing her, eating her with his stares. The man cleared his throat, now looking at the bartender, who just smiled politely and asked what he was having.

"Whiskey, neat" by the tone of voice he was already shit faced. Angie was ignoring him, drinking her coke and smoking her cigarette. She was mad at Vince, he was nowhere to be seen and now she was alone in there.

The bartender turned around and slipped the drink to the weird man, who was still staring. "There you go" she smiled and then her eyes darted to Angie again. "So, your not from around, right? Where are you from?"

"Warwickshire, babe, England" Angie smiled, adoring the brightness in that girl's eyes and to be honest, the way those clothes hugged tightly around her body.

"Oh, God save the queen, then" they giggled. "So, my shift ends in fifteen minutes... We could do something, have a drink or maybe get wasted"

"Babe, I'd love that, but I'm 'ere waiting for my friends" Angie touched the girls hand, causing her to smirk "But ya can definitely join us"

"I'd like that" more eye fucking. She was so pretty and sweet, maybe this wasn't even the place for her. The man moved again, this time he got up trying to look normal and sober. He steadied himself on the stool and walked slowly towards Angie and lowered his body, until his mouth was dangerously close to her ear and she could actually smell the alcohol and weed he exhaled.

"I wanna a dance, doll" he whispered. Angie didn't even flinch, the girl behind the counter was preparing drinks to a costumer but was still eyeing the situation.

"Well, the pole is right over there. Suit yourself, mate" she turned around and faced him, blowing the smoke on his face and pointing at the actually empty dance pole. "Step back and fuck off" she calmly warned him.

"I said I wanna a dance, you bitch" he grabbed Angie's wrist and pulled her violently off the stool, causing her to fall on her face. "I'll tip big" he laughed. A couple of people got up and looked over, not really sure if they should intervene or incite. The first thing that came in Angie's mind was Razzle's voice 'Don’t get in trouble, Angela' and she laughed bitterly, it was like she was a magnet.

She got up and noticed that next to that man she was a tiny little puppy but that never stopped her before. "I'll dance to ya in 'ell, fucker" she punched his stomach and he leaned in, giving her the chance to nudge his back twice. He fell on the ground, groaning and cussing. Everyone was looking, the girl behind the counter had called a security guard and he came running with two other man.

"Imma need you to leave, miss" the first one said while the other two took the hurt man by the armpits and put him on his feet.

Angie scoffed "I didn't do anythin' mate, he attacked me" she protested loudly. Her wrist hurt and she wanted to scream, kick that man in the face, bite him to draw blood. Her breath was unsteady, chest running up and down and she felt like the room was spinning.

"He attacked her, I saw everything, Brett" the bartender said. The security let go of Angie's bicep, shooting her an apologetic look. The other two guards dragged the attackers body throughout the club, kicking him out. "Sorry about that"

"Don't worry, love" Angie answered the girl with a smirk "I'm used to dickheads like him all the time" she sat down again, ignoring everyone's judgemental stares. "I'll have a beer please" she put her head in between her hands and sighed. Lighting another cigarette, she attentively observed everything around her, still waiting for the boys to come through the door. "How's your name, sweets?"

"Cherry" she smiled "It's on the house, babe"

"Your real name" Angie insisted. The girl smirked, not saying anything "That can't be ya real name, it's stupid" she nagged and the girl rolled her eyes.

"Oh, then I suppose your name is grand and majestic or something like that"

"Not even close, me name's Angela and I hate it" she said with a funny face which made Cherry giggle. She turned again to attend another costumer, giving Angie the chance to turn around and look at the stripers.

She recognized the song playing loudly and echoing through the pub. People were dancing, some watching the stripers dance on the pole, some gaining a lap dance, some doing drugs while getting a lap dance. It was amazing how those girls danced in those clothes and high heels, maybe she should feel bad for them being objectified all the time, but something inside of her screamed they were having a good time.

"You should go there and pay for a dance, babe, staring isn't nice" someone said next to her, she didn't turn to see who, but she could tell that the person was smiling.

"Maybe I will"

"Maybe you could dance for me" Angie huffed and her head turned slowly, when she reached the beautiful features of that man's face and stared into his green eyes, her heart skipped a beat. Nikki Sixx sat there with a smirk she couldn't and didn't want to forget, his eyes scanned her as well, stoping in her cleavage. She wasn't wearing a bra which made harder for him not to glance every now and then.

"I've been waitin' for 'ours and 'ours, Sixx" she whined, faking a frown and pouting. Nikki laughed and shook his head.

"You got here fifteen minutes ago, Angela" he was facing the counter now, eyeing Cherry up and down when she finally asked what he was having. "A jack and coke, please"

"How long 'ave ya been 'ere?" she asked in confusion. She turned to face him and he had a smirk. He was clearly high out of his mind, she could tell by the way his eyes were restless.

"Two hours" she gasped.

"I've been lookin everywhere for ya guys, and now ya tell me that... Two fuckin' hours? Nothin better to do? I mean, it's saturday night and...”

"Well I was here waiting for you and those fuckers... And I got a little distracted" he cut her off. Angie shifted uncomfortable in her stool, a small and nervous smile playing on her lips. Nikki's gaze were still on her and it never was as awkward as now.

She wasn't sure why they'd do something like that. Vince called her, she came from another city, almost three hours in a cab. "Well, I'm pretty sure they stood us up, mate" she laughed a little. He rolled his eyes.

"I'm gonna kill 'em" he said while lighting a cigarette, offering one to her, who refused. Silence. Nikki only went quiet when he was thinking, she noticed. Or when he was tired and high. But not now, now he was embarrassed, not knowing what to do or say.

"Why didn't ya just... went home or I don't know, went to their houses to murder 'em all?" Angie rested her head in her hand.

"I was waiting for you, I just fucking told you that" Nikki rubbed his face, annoyed.

"Hmm" she hummed and laughed through her nose, not believing in a word coming out of his pretty mouth.

"hmm? It's all you have to say?"

"Ya hate me, Sixx, why would ya wait for me?" He didn't answered, instead he just let out a humourless laugh, biting his lips. Silence again. Angie got up and was ready to leave and search for the closest motel in that place. 'fucking wankers' was all she wanted to scream. "Good night, Sixx. I'd find better friends if I were ya"

Nikki got up and grabbed her wrist, holding her in place and making her flinch. It was still sore from before" No, you're not leaving now, I waited for you" he was confused and kind of hurt.

"I didn't ask ya to wait for me" she scoffed and pushed him lightly. His eyes scanned her once more, trying to know if she was joking or deadly serious, his grip still on her hand but now softly. "Nikki, stop, ya look like a creep" His other hand hold her face, his thumb brushed her lips and then he pulled her closer "Nikki..." he closed the gap and kissed her gently.

Angie looped her arms around his neck, causing Nikki to smile, which didn't go unnoticed by her. He slowly moved his hands down to her waist, then her hips, then her ass, squeezing harshly. "Come with me" he broke the kiss, still holding her body as close as possible.

"Wait...where?" she questioned with a smirk. He pulled her by the hand, going for the exit and soon enough, both of them were out on the street. "Where we're goin' Nikkie?"

"You talk to much, you know that?" he smirked again.

"Oh, honey, ya 'ave no fuckin' ideia" she kissed him again, but this time with urgency. Her hands ran up and down his chest, his hands were on her hair and her ass. "Ya know, I was gonna fuck the shit out of that cute bartender tonight, so ya better 'ave somethin' greater than that on your mind" she whispered, their forehead glue to each other, lips brushing and nose touching.

"I do, actually" she hummed again "I am gonna fuck the shit out of you"

...

Nikki had Angie's legs wrapped around his waist, while kissing and humping each other, trying to walk properly through the hallway of his building. He almost dropped her twice since they started making out on the first floor but she just laughed. "The keys are in my jacket pocket" he broke the kiss and whispered.

She fumbled, finding the keys and opening the door with a kick. They stumbled inside, laughing like two kids who just did something wrong. Nikki pressed Angie against the shut door, causing her to moan in his mouth when he rolled his hips into hers. "Fuck, Sixx"

He smirked "Eager, aren't we?" He was licking and marking her neck now, gaining more moans. Angie's hand went to his belt, unbuckling so fast he didn't even see when she threw it on the floor. "Oh no no no, baby" Nikki took a tight grip on her hand, stopping her "Last time you were on control we had I little problem"

"No, love, I was fine" she taunted "The idea of having you literally wrapped 'round me fingers just drove me insane. I touched myself thinking about ya that night" she blurted out, making Nikki's lip twitch in excitement and he felt his pants getting tighter.

Angie jumped from his lap, causing him to whine. She dragged him to the nearest comfortable surface she could find, the couch, and shoved him down. "Ya know, I'm not even mad with the boys anymore" she smiled and confessed, straddling him. Nikki grabbed her by the hip, pulling her impossibly closer to him, kissing her for dear life. "How drunk are ya, babe?" She asked softly.

"Well, it's only ten thirty so... not that much" he said confused and she giggled "Why?"

"Cause I want us both to remember this time" Angie hold the hem of her shirt, removing it with grace, Nikki made sure just to watch her bare and beautiful torso, she then pulled his shirt over his head. They were already sweaty from the previous make out session on the corridor, which just turned them on even more.

Nikki pulled her again for a kiss, calmer this time. Angie started to roll her hips, making sure to swallow every moan that escaped his lips. His big hands ran freely on her thighs, but the leather pants were getting on the way. "These need to come off, angel" and his next move was to push her to lay beneath him.

He started to unbutton her pants, pulling down her legs and throwing somewhere else and it was his time to roll his hips into hers again, she didn't moan but her nails dig deep in his arms. "Ya still 'ave yours on" she managed to say, even though she was almost begging him to fuck her brains out. He was quick to remove his pants, leaving them both only in their underwear.

Nikki's mouth worked fast, he was sucking on her left nipple while his fingers played with the other one. Angie's eyes were closed and she played with his hair. With a pop, he let go of her breast and looked up, admiring her expression, and it was quite the view.

"Fuck, Angel" Nikki breathed out and started to kiss down her stomach, his thumb rubbed her inner thighs causing her to shiver. "I want you to..." he sat up, still eyeing her "I want you to sit on my face, angel"

Angie gasped once he said that and also when his fingers touched her wetness through the fabric of her panties. They switched places, Nikki was laying with his head on a pillow and Angie's legs were on each side of him. "Are ya sure? I don't want to suffocate ya, Nikki"

"There's better way to die than this?" he teased her entrance again "Take it off already, Angela"

"Eager, aren't we, pretty boy?" She looped her fingers on the silky fabric and pulled down, tossing on his face. "I've never done this before, Sixx, so if ya die it's not my fault"

"Shut up and come here" she moved towards him, being careful not to pull his hair. His hand found her hips and pulled her down, making her moan so loud that he had to laugh Nikki kissed her slit and then her clit, Angie's back arched and she let out another moan, this time quieter. His tongue started licking every inch of her, he flicked her clit just to watch her melt and praise him name.

"Fuck, Sixx" she steadied herself and now her hips rolled on his mouth. Nikki could felt his boxers getting the best of him. Angie held his head up while grinding on his face, she was loving every second of that, the sounds Nikki made was driving her mad. Her eyes shot open, looking down, smirking to him while he ete her out.

"So pretty" he hummed, the vibrations sending shivers down her spine. Her stomach tightened and her legs involuntarily closed, only for Nikki hold her and spread her even more.

"HOLY FU... Nikki, I'm gonna cum" she screamed, holding on the couch for dear life. His tongue flicked her one more time and she held her breath.

"Then cum all over my face, babe" and then she did with a final scream. Nikki sucked every drop of it, causing her to flich for being so sensitive. "That was something" he said while pushing her off of him gently. Angie was a mess, a beautiful, hot, sweet mess. She was sitting on his thighs, taking her time to recover.

"Your turn, Sixter" her hand taunted him through his boxers, making him moan on her neck. She gave him a few strokes, painfully slow ones. "I'll be nice to ya this time, babe" she pulled his dick out, going a little faster now. Nikki kissed her neck, moaning softly.

Angie got up and pushed him back, spreading his legs so she could position herself in between. His expression made her laugh, he was staring with his mouth open, almost not believing what was happening. She licked his tip, earning a gasp, so she continued, now from the base to the tip. Nikki's hand took some strands of hair off her face, then he took a fist full of her colorful hair.

"I like you like this, with your mouth occupied" he whispered. Angie put half in her mouth and was about to suck him off when she looked him deadly in the eyes.

"Yeah, you're a real poet with your mouth shut as well, Sixx" and went back, now taking almost all of him at once. She began slowly, just to annoy him, but soon the urgency took over him and his hand entangled on her hair. His head fell on the couch, his mouth was open and she smirked again. Her hands helped a lot cause he was big, and he was loving the feeling of her mouth and tongue working so well to drive him over the edge. He was groaning loudly and his hips unsteady, she noticed, she bobbed her head faster, gagging when his tip hit her throat.

"Fuck, Angie" he breath out "So fucking good" she giggle and dug her nails on his thighs, sending him a wave of pleasure. Nikki hold her head in place, fucking himself on her mouth, soon releasing everything he had with a loud moan and a curse. Angie's eyes were watering, and his cum was dripping from the corners of her lips. "You don't have to swallow that" his index finger touched her chin and she opened her mouth, stuck her tongue out and drooled everything.

"We're gonna need a condom" she got up and walked to his bathroom, searching everywhere for a package. When she found one, she returned to the living room just to see Nikki walking up to her, pulling her by the hands and taking her to his bedroom. "We already messed up the couch, love, why messing your bed as well"

Nikki smirked "I wanna mess every room in this place as long as it's with you" he shushed her with a kiss. Her hands quickly took the condom out, giving it to him who in seconds put on his hardness. His fingers played with her wetness once more, before pushing her softly on the matress and straddling her without breaking the kiss. "Fucking soaked"

"Shut up and fuck me, mate" Angie commanded and Nikki squinted his hungry eyes at her. He teased her entrance, only to push himself in all at once, making her hiss. "Oh boy" she cried, wrapping her legs around him. He took that as a sign and started to move slowly. Angie's eyes were glued on his, full of lust and desire, Nikki wished she could look away or he wouldn't last long, but something deep in her soul called for him and he smiled a little.

"Ride me" he moaned and she nodded, switching with him again. Her arms wrapped around his neck, they were so close now, their body, their scent, their sweat, their movement were just one now. Angie's fingers hovered his lips and he opened his mouth, sucking on the two digits and she smirked, trailing down to rub her clit with his spit. "Fuck, babe, you're so hot" he groaned. Their movements were getting sloppy, Angie's thighs muscles hurt, Nikki's back as well. "I'm gonna cum" they both said at the same time.

With a final bounce, Angie let out a shaky breath and Nikki moaned softly, they came together and then both collapsed on the bed. She giggled, making him smile as well, not sure why. "I'm definitely not mad at the boys anymore"

He got up and tossed her a cleaned shirt "Don't you dare burn this one. You can take a shower and clean yourself up" he laid back down, lighting another cigarette and eyeing her beautiful body and she stared back "What?"

"Nothing" she got up and went to the bathroom. "Ya can join me if ya want" she bit her lip, but he shook his head not looking in her direction. "Okay" she closed the door and turned on the shower. After three minutes, she got out, dried and using the shirt Nikki just handed her. "Can we share the bed? I don't wanna sleep alone on your couch" he got up and nodded, walking slowly towards the bathroom and closing the door.

"Oh, boy" she let out a sigh and laid down. Smelling Nikki's pillow, a mixture of his shampoo, sweat, cigarettes and well, Nikki. "Fuck me" she shook away the weird feeling of not wanting to go home, to stay here with him and be his girl. 'Thats never gonna 'appen, Angela, your way of life won't allow it, ya 'ave a band and a brother to go back to' she thought. 'Nikki Sixx it's not boyfriend material and your are definitely not girlfriend material, it'd be cheating and fighting all the time, hurt feelings and heartbreaks and you're too young for that shit'

Nikki got out and soon joined her, who was half asleep when he pulled the covers up, but she still managed to ask him softly "Who's Frankie?" Angie felt him tense up and he didn't answered, but that thing had stuck in her head since she heard earlier in the club.

"Frankie died just the other night

Some say it was suicide

But we know

How the story goes" she sang softly, trying to remember the right lyrics. "Did you wrote that? It's a beautiful song, sad but..."

"Yeah, I wrote. Frankie was just this kid I used to know" he stammered "But he's dead now, he's not important, you should go to sleep"

"Well, he must be, cause ya wrote a whole ass song for him" she turned to face Nikki, who's face was rigid. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry"

"Then shut up and go to sleep" he hissed coldly in her face, soon regretting his choices cause Angie just stared in shock "Fuck. He's dead, Angie and it's all you gonna know about it" he turned his back on her, still tensed up.

"Let's see then" she whispered, closing her eyes and immediately falling asleep.

...

Tag List: @floatautumnleaf @flizaa @triplehaitches @miss-ncthing @anon-1112 @tamedhearts @shamelessobsessions @langdonsdream @scarecrowmax @motherloovebone (sorry if I forgot anyone and please let me know if you want to be tagged)

#douglas booth #nikki sixx #angie dingley #oc character #terror #the dirt #motley crue

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rumoured-whispers · 4 years

Note

Hey my wattpad name is @awildkaitlyn :) I also have a Razzle Dingley x OC, Nikki Sixx x OC and Tommy Lee x OC fics on my wattpad profile if you’re interested in those :)

Thank you so much and I’m definitely going to binge them all now 🙈

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angrylizardjacket · 3 years

Text

dirtbags // 5: Charlotte

Summary: High School AU. 1985. Winter. Charlotte and Razzle are officially not dating, while Lola’s not dating someone but won’t say who, though she’s contemplating sleeping with Tommy in an effort to get him to stop pining for her, which Charlotte thinks is a terrible idea. Except that Charlotte lets slip to Tommy that that’s Lola’s plan, and he doesn’t take it well. The whole pack ends up at the Drive-In, which is going great for Charlotte and Razzle right up until Nikki decides to be an ass, and Charlotte realises that Tommy has spoken to Lola about their fight. It looks like things will be getting worse before they get better.

A/N: 6655 words. long overdue sorry!! @misscharlottelee and @evaangelics my beloveds this is, as always, for you both. ft. asofterworld quotes

my sister and i both hate antique shopping. but we love hating things together.

So yes, technically Charlotte and Razzle spent the better part of Heather’s party in a dark corner being altogether gross, as an incredibly drunk Peach had informed them both before she was pulled away by a far more sober Vince, which Charlotte hadn’t thought much of at the time, herself more than a little tipsy, but hearing Eileen rant in the diner the following day had made her feel a little guilty for not paying more attention. Not that anything bad happened, but still, she felt partially responsible for the young ginger girl.

But the point is that Charlotte and Razzle are not dating, despite what everyone in their weird and ragtag bunch of lunchtime delinquents likes to imply. If Charlotte could justify punching Nikki again, she absolutely would. It’s not her fault that Razzle’s interesting and kind and honest and funny, and if she finds herself feeling a little heady, a little good-nauseous, like she had back when she and Duff had first been dancing around the idea of being a couple, she pushes those feelings to the back of her mind and distracts herself with something, anything else.

Right now, she’s got a terrible headache and is having a whisper argument with Lola in the middle of art, trying to talk her out of pity-fucking Tommy.

“You make it sound so crass and heartless,” Lola’s lip curled, frowning at the red pencil in her hand and the cartoon drawing of a flower in her notes, “pity-fucking,” the word sounds wrong on Lola’s lips, tone derisive, “you say it like I don’t care about him.”

“Don’t pity-fuck my cousin, you can both do better,” Charlotte rubs at her temples, eyes closed, as Lola makes a noise like she’s not too sure if that’s a compliment, “a few weeks ago, you promised me you were just friends -”

“He’s a hopeless romantic who keeps hearing about cheerleaders sleeping with people who aren’t him, lemme put him out of his misery -”

“By fucking him? What if he catches further feelings for you?”

“I dunno, I’ll kill him?” Lola suggests flippantly, and when Charlotte cracks her eyes open to level a glare at Lola, the dark haired girl is grinning, clearly joking.

“Why Tommy? Why can’t you sleep with someone less related to me?” Charlotte hisses, tone vaguely annoyed and desperate, “I thought you were getting laid? What’s up with you and Nikki anyways?” There’s a shift in her tone, and Lola makes a face, pressing a little harder with her pencil.

“I am sleeping with someone less related to you,” Lola says, though there’s a strangely guarded quality to her voice, “not Nikki, for the record; he’s the one who suggested I sleep with Tommy to begin with. He’s too much of a bitch to fuck me himself,” she mutters, mostly to herself, a little wrinkle creasing the bridge of her nose as she thinks about it.

“Wait, you’re seeing someone? For real? And it’s not Nikki?” Charlotte’s expression lit up, and Lola gave her a calculating looking out of the corner of her eye.

“I bet we both know another person I’m not sleeping with,” and Lola’s tone is mean and a little venomous as she deftly changes the subject, “how is our favourite exchange student, by the way?” Charlotte realises too late that her excited questioning of Lola’s private life may have touched a nerve. For all that Lola’s become more open in the few months they’ve been friends, there were strange lines Charlotte kept finding. Lola never really acted as though she cared much about Charlotte and Razzle’s vague status, so to use it against Charlotte was a surprise, and a clear giveaway that one of those lines had been crossed. It got Lola’s message across well enough, and Charlotte’s mouth snapped closed.

Lola was a terrible distraction when she wanted to be.

“Lola’s not seeing anyone,” Nikki says flatly around his cigarette, and when Charlotte realises she’s gossiping with Nikki Sixx, she wonders idly where her life went wrong, “she’s fucking someone,” he corrected, “and she refuses to tell me who, but she’s not seeing anyone.” He sounds far more annoyed than Charlotte had anticipated, and she can’t help herself. She tugs on that string.

“Wait, so it’s actually not you?”

“Lola’s dad is built like He-Man, Master of the Fucking Universe, have you seen him, Charlie? I couldn’t stick it in his daughter and bring myself to look him in the eye every other day; and I’m past worrying if he’s gonna toss me into space like he’s an Olympic hammer thrower,” Nikki considers for a moment, before heaving a sigh, “I just don’t wanna disappoint him.”

“You think fucking Lola’s gonna disappoint her dad?” Charlotte’s brow wrinkled with slight confusion, “why do you even talk to her dad every other day?”

“We work together?” Nikki says, like it’s the simplest answer in the world, and oh, suddenly Charlotte knows exactly why the back of the fry cook in Leo’s looked so familiar. Nikki can obviously read it on her face as the realisation, the full understanding of the situation dawns on Charlotte, but it still doesn’t stop her from bursting out with laughter.

“Oh dude, you definitely cannot fuck your boss’s daughter, no matter how much you so clearly want to -”

“Hey!” Nikki snapped, “bold words coming from you, Miss Lee; you already made sure Razz has had the full American High School Experience, or are you waiting for Prom to go full cliché about it?”

“Nikki, I’ve already punched you in the face once, so help me -”

“Yeah but now I know what to expect, I’m kinda into it,” Nikki’s grin is all teeth, and he leans across the table, into Charlotte’s space, “do it again, Miss Lee,” he teases, offering up his cheek to her, grinning from ear to ear. Charlotte makes a disgusted noise, leaning back, crossing her arms.

“You disgust me; can you please quit your job so you can fuck Lola?”

Thankfully, this seems to take the wind out of Nikki’s sails, his expression falling to something irritated as he huffs and drops his gaze, sitting back dejectedly, and pointedly refusing, unable to come with a snide comeback in time to save face.

“Lola would punch you in the face,” Charlotte pointed out, tone a little smug, and Nikki presses his lips together, trying very hard to keep his expression neutral as a blush creeps up his cheeks.

“So would that leggy redhead of yours,” he’s quick to change the conversation, “isn’t she in the musical? You know my band’s still looking for a singer -”

“Lemme stop you right there,” Charlotte stops Nikki in his tracks, holding up a single hand for silence, “first of all, the only person Eileen hates more than you is Vince Neil, and she told me personally that she’d rather eat glass than join your band, secondly -”

“You talked about my band with her?” There’s something a little bashful in Nikki’s voice, and the blush hasn’t left his cheeks; the whole picture would be endearing if he wasn’t such a colossal asshole.

“Secondly,” Charlotte tries again, “you know her name’s Eileen; everyone knows her name is Eileen, stop calling her my leggy redhead,” she ordered, before taking a deep breath, trying to let her irritation subside, “and thirdly, Lola was the one who asked Eileen to be in your band, Eileen just brought it up to me because she knew Tommy was in it.” Nikki, who had already been pink all over, was steadily turning red, trying to hide it as he made a show of patting down his pockets looking for his cigarettes.

“Lola... uh, she talks about my band? She asked if Eileen wanted to join us?” He’s shooting for casual and missing the mark miserably, much to Charlotte’s delight.

“You’re so in love with her,” she smirks. Nikki scowls at her. The bell rings.

i have found a way to watch video in your head. high definition, with instant replay. it is called having regrets.

When Eileen invites Charlotte to the drive in, and suggests bringing Razzle, she insists it’s not a date, that some of the people from the musical were just getting together to watch the new horror movie, and she thought it would be good for Razzle to experience a proper, drive-in movie. That probably should have set of alarm bells in Charlotte’s mind, since everyone knew that if you take someone to a horror movie at the drive-in, you generally don’t end up actually watching much of the movie. It’s one of the oldest tricks in the book.

But Eileen’s adamant, and Charlotte honestly wouldn’t actually mind sneaking off with Razzle at some point, if the opportunity arose, not that she’s admit that.

“I should ask Lola to go,” Tommy says, tone a little wistful, when, on Thursday, Charlotte tells him her plans for the following evening; alarm bells definitely start ringing.

They’re in Tommy’s kitchen after school, with his mom at the supermarket, and his dad at work, they’ve got the house to themselves, apart from Tommy’s sister upstairs, monopolising the phone. Charlotte’s sitting on the counter, while Tommy’s staring into the refrigerator, not actually looking at what’s in there, thoughts miles away as he considers his own words.

“Shut that if you’re not going to get anything, and no you shouldn’t,” Charlotte shuts him down immediately, to which Tommy frowns, asking derisively when she became the boss of him, slamming the fridge closed, “I thought you two were just friends,” Charlotte counters with.

“I can ask a friend to the drive-in,” though the way he suddenly can’t meet her gaze betrays him, and he flits over to a cupboard, opening it and staring at the food inside, trying to decide on an afternoon snack, “why are you here, anyways?” At this, Charlotte goes quiet and pensive, looking down at her knees as her heels kick softly against the cupboards below, trying not to think about how her mother keeps leaving college brochures out, with Law, Accounting, and Medicine courses all meticulously highlighted, or how whenever they’re in the same room, she’s treated to passive aggressive questions about whether she’s seen the brochures her parents know she definitely hasn’t touched.

“Am I not allowed to hang out with you?” Charlotte finally surfaces from her thoughts to see that Tommy is waiting for an answer.

“Not if you’re going to be an asshole.”

“If you’re going to daydream about Lola, I’m going to be an asshole,” Charlotte fired back, snarkily, and Tommy narrowed his eyes at her.

“You’ve become kind of a bitch since you started hanging out with Nikki,” he huffs, and Charlotte straightens up where she’s sitting, eyes going wide with disbelief, with slight outrage.

“I’m just fucking sick of hearing you chase after girls who don’t want you! It’s all you ever talk about!”

“Lola wants me! Lola fucking wants me, Charlie!”

“She doesn’t want you, she wants to pity-fuck you so you’ll get off her damn case! Just how naïve are you, Thomas?” Charlotte yells back, and immediately smacks her hand to her mouth, regret written all over her face. Tommy’s expression falls like his heart is breaking. “Tommy -”

“A real, fucking bitch,” there’s a shake in Tommy’s voice that is breaking Charlotte’s heart, and she tries to apologise, but he tells her to go home.

Yes, she leaves, she shuts the door behind herself, but she can’t bring herself to go home. Her feet carry her while her mind is blank, but when she looks up, she’s pushing open the door to the gas station, seeing Mick Mars look up from his magazine. Before he greets her, she sees the way his eyes search the space around her, roam the empty fuel pumps, as if expecting Tommy to pop out behind her. Then, once he considers himself safe, he puts down his magazine, tilting his head curiously at her, at her dejected demeanour.

“Charlotte?” She’s actually surprised that he knows her name, and Charlotte hovers in the door, letting in the cold air from outside as she deliberates. Why had she come here of all places? “Are you okay?” The words sound strange, like he’s not used to saying them, not used to showing any sort of care, but she appreciates them nonetheless.

“I was a massive asshole to Tommy,” the words spill from her before she can stop them, and she watches Mick’s expression, can almost see him fight back several sarcastic or congratulatory remarks, suppressing his own well-worn irritation for her cousin, instead, just making a noise in the back of his throat that she can’t quite decipher. Then, he looks out the window, looks to the clock on the wall, and takes his feet off the counter carefully.

“Do you want a slurpee?” He asks, obviously a little uncertain of how to proceed.

“Not really,” Charlotte admits, and Mick awkwardly looks around, as if to offer something else.

“Do you smoke?” He’s already pulling a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. Charlotte shoves her hands into her coat pockets, shaking her head, looking at the floor, not quite sure where to go from here herself, “do you mind if I smoke?”

“No,” her voice is small.

They sit on the step by the door outside the gas station, side by side, silent for a few minutes as Mick smokes his cigarette. No cars approach, but they watch some drive by as the sun sinks lower in the sky.

“I told him Lola doesn’t want him, that she’s just interested in pity-fucking him because she thinks it’d get him off her case,” Charlotte admits, and from the corner of her eye, she sees Mick wince, a sign that what she’d said truly was a dick move.

“That would’a broken the kid’s heart,” Mick muses around his cigarette, and Charlotte, who’d had her knees curled up to her chest, rests her chin on them, with a quiet ‘I know’.

“He said I turned into an asshole since I became friends with Nikki Sixx, and then I just managed to prove him right,” she seethes, disappointed in herself more than anything else.

“That’s your first problem; being friends with Nikki Sixx.”

“That was an accident,” Charlotte tried to defend herself, “and I’ve been friends with Nikki for kind of a while, honestly, but I was just so sick of hearing Tommy moon over girls who don’t even look twice at him, like they hung the stars in the sky -”

“Charlotte,” Mick interrupts her, his voice soft but insistent, and when she finally looks at him, he’s actually frowning at her, hands stilled with another cigarette half-pulled from it’s packet, “that’s not... you know why what you said hurt him, right? You know you could’a said that about any other cheerleader he was into and it would’a rolled right off his back, right?”

Oh. Oh no. Slowly, Charlotte’s expression crumbles as the full weight of her words dawns upon her, her guilt skyrocketing. Face in her hands, she actually wails, and Mick gives a firm pat on the back as a show of support.

“They’re friends, Mick.”

“I know, Charlotte.”

“God, fuck, he probably thinks that I mean she doesn’t even like him as a friend, Mick!”

“Yeah,” he sighed deeply, giving another pat, “I know, Charlotte.”

“I just... don’t want him to get his heart broken,” she admitted, her only attempt to justify herself, which Mick didn’t accept as a proper answer for a moment.

“He’s sixteen, he’s gotta make his own mistakes, and,” at this he hesitates, lighting up his cigarette and taking a long draft as he deliberated saying his next words, “don’t ever let her know I told you this,” he adds seriously, “but the last thing Lola wants to do is hurt that kid; if anything, she’s hoping hooking up with him will strengthen their friendship, and raise his confidence for when he goes after other girls.” This... is a lot to process.

“How do you even know this?” Charlotte asked, bewildered, and Mick scrunches his face up and takes another long inhale on his cigarette.

“We’re friends,” is what he settles on.

“What?”

“Lola and I... are friends,” he sounds like he doesn’t want to admit it, and visibly cringes as he follows it up with, “she cares about that kid, and speaks very highly of him, and of you, honestly, and maybe the kid’s not as irritating as I had him pegged as. He’s still irritating, but he,” and he audibly groans, hanging his head for a moment, as if disappointed that he’s even saying any of this, “he’s a good friend to Lola.” It’s like the words themselves hurt him to admit, so he changes the topic quickly, “she told me he’s in a band with Sixx, actually,” and his tone is thankfully much less strained as he straightens his posture a little, ignoring Charlotte’s frankly flabbergasted expression, “I’ve been seriously considering joining them.”

“You sing?” Is what Charlotte hears herself say, without really registering it. Mick snorts derisively.

“Fuck no, I play guitar.”

“You sho- you should join them,” Charlotte babbles, trying to make sense of everything that she’d just learned, and now this of all things, but it’s going to take her a while.

“I should,” he agrees with the barest hint of a smile, once more clapping her on the back. He hesitates before he stands, like he wants to say something else, but instead, he gives an awkward smile and gets to his feet, heading back inside, leaving Charlotte in silence.

Eileen gives her a lift to school the following morning, seething about how Peach got a part-time job and their parents still aren’t happy. It’s conflicting for the older sister, who hates hearing the derisive way her parents refer to Peach as a ‘burger flipper’, while Peach herself had sneered when Eileen had asked about the job, telling her older sister that she was done grovelling at their parents’ feet just to exist, with an implied ‘unlike you’ which had been so uncharacteristic of the usually kind and upbeat Peach that it had sent Eileen spiralling. It was the third day in a row Eileen had been ranting about it, about how she just wanted to support Peach, but that her whole family appeared to be turning on each other.

Charlotte found herself relating to that particular sentiment far too well.

Half their ragtag bunch of lunchtime misfits is notably absent from their usual lunchtime hang out, so while Charlotte spends the forty minutes picking apart her food like she’s trying to deconstruct it atomically, Razzle sits diligently as Eileen carefully and meticulously braids his hair, while he asks if he needs to bring anything, or wear anything special to the drive in that Friday. Charlotte’s not paying them any attention, just letting her gaze roam distractedly essentially until the bell rings, and Eileen pulls the hairband from her own hair to secure Razzle’s braid, before taking off.

“Anybody home in that head of yours, Charlie? The bell’s gone,” Razzle’s offering her his hand where he’s standing, and Charlotte finally returns to reality from her blank, concerned mind, wiping the last few crumbs of her sandwich on her jeans picking up her bag with one hand and taking Razzle’s hand with the other. Today he’s chosen to wear a royal purple collared shirt, several sized too big for him, with the sleeves rolled up, tucked into tight, acid-washed jeans littered with naturally-made holes, his backpack on his back, and a black, corduroy jacket slung over one shoulder; with his newly acquired braid, the whole look is quite fetching, quite -

“You look like a prince,” Charlotte feels rather foolish for even saying it, can feel as the blush rises on her cheeks, but Razzle’s beaming as he pulls her to her feet, and doesn’t let go of her hand for a moment.

“Well then I must be truly lucky to get court a princess like you,” and coming from anyone else, it would have sounded cheesy, or the phrase princess would have been derisive or snide, but he’s sincere, almost painfully so, and Charlotte ducks her head, “not courting,” Razzle corrects quickly, and Charlotte doesn’t think about how her heart sinks at that, despite how they’d talked through this.

“Princess Charlie -” something about the way he says her name always hits her hard, because hearing how it sounds, the reverence with which he says it, the nervousness, she leans in and kisses him quickly, can’t help herself, can’t stop herself. But then she’s leaning back, getting a better grip on her backpack, but - “wait, wait, wait, Charlie, wait -” Razzle, for the barest moment, tightens his grip on her hand, and she’s terrified that she crossed a line, that she’s done something wrong, but she turns back, and he doesn’t seem to be mad or concerned, instead he drops the jacket he’d been holding, gently taking her face in his hands, “can’t spring that on me and get away with it; lemme do it proper.”

i am going to build a new boyfriend out of garbage and dirty feathers. no one else will touch him.

“Did you tell Tommy we were coming here?” Eileen hissed, startling the hell out of Charlotte at the concession stand at the drive-in before the movie began. Charlotte, who had been hovering in line, nervously retucking her nice blouse into her skirt every few minutes, almost jumped out of her skin at her friend’s voice in her ear.

“Yeah, I - why?” Looking around, Charlotte thankfully can’t see Tommy’s shitbox of a car, but it becomes readily apparent the source of Eileen’s frustrations, when she spots a shiny, red sports car parked four cars past where Keanu and his good friend and well known fellow theatre kid Alex Winter were sitting on the hood of Keanu’s car, chatting animatedly with Razzle, who they had been quick to warm to him upon meeting him about twenty minutes ago.

“Charlie!” The name came out as a frustrated noise from between Eileen’s clenched teeth, her eyes glued to Vince Neil’s ostentatious car, and Charlotte looked down for a moment, before adjusting her skirt again and retucking her shirt as she spoke.

“I didn’t know he’d tell Vince; I haven’t spoken to him since yesterday afternoon,” and she hesitates before adding, “we got into this fight and I’ve been trying to figure out how to apologise but I don’t know how, so it kind of slipped my mind, I didn’t know -”

“We’ll talk about you and Tommy later, I promise, but right now I need you to tell me three convincing arguments as to why I shouldn’t pop one of Vince Neil’s fucking tires.” Eileen’s hatred of Vince is perhaps getting out of hand, Charlotte considers, prying Eileen’s vice-like grip from her upper arm, considering for a moment.

“I know you have no qualms about becoming a felon to protect Peach,” Charlotte says with half a smirk.

“Absolutely none,” Eileen agrees without missing a beat, which was both amusing and heartwarming.

“- but your mom would probably pull you out of public school to enrol you in that strict, girls-only, future-nun-school, Our Lady Of Perpetual Sorrow,” Charlotte’s trying so desperately not to smirk, not to give her amusement away at the concept, “and you can say goodbye to any chance you had of ever making out with your co-star on or off stage.”

Eileen turns as red as her hair, but at least she takes a moment to calm down, glancing over her shoulder at the three boys who were waiting for them. Keanu looks over for a moment, catching her gaze, waving and grinning from ear to ear, and Charlotte practically cackles as Eileen’s blush deepens.

“Look, Eileen look,” Charlotte pointed insistently back at the boys, to where Alex had hopped off the hood of Keanu’s car, and was making his way over to the pack of kids Eileen had vaguely gestured to earlier, mentioning that they made up most of the technical theatre department, despite their leather jackets and motorcycles, leaving Razzle and Keanu chattering away, “Alex is going to hang out with the Crew boys, leaving Keanu free to comfort you during the scary movie.”

Eileen takes a deep breath, not even pretending like that wasn’t what she wanted, steeling herself to head back, and ignore Vince Neil’s goddamn car. After a beat, however, she turns to Charlotte, looking altogether stern and collected.

“I know I said you and Razzle could stay in my car, since I’m hanging out with Keanu, but don’t have sex in there -”

“What?!”

“Don’t have sex with Razzle in my car,” Eileen practically ordered, and Charlotte nervously looked to the guy ahead of her in line. He looked back at her, between the two girls, then thankfully stepped up to the counter without a word.

“I wasn’t planning on it!”

“Well you also weren’t planning on being make out buddies after getting drunk and being the gross PDA couple at Heather’s party,” Eileen sniped back, “listen, I just want Peach to be able to sit in my car without either of your bare asses having touched any of the seats.”

“I won’t let either of our bare asses touch the seat,” Charlotte agreed, mortified.

“And no stains -”

“Eileen!” Charlotte all but screeches, right as the messages before the movie started playing.

“Eileen, the charming Mister Reeves wants a word with you,” Razzle’s voice joins them just moments before Charlotte’s pretty sure she would have expired from embarrassment, and at the mere mention of Keanu, Eileen relaxes a little. All three of them glance over to Keanu’s car, to see the man himself leaning against his windshield, cigarette idle in one hand as he watches the first of the preview trailers. As much as he makes gestures like he’s about to take a drag, the cigarette never quite makes it to his lips before he extends his arm out beside him again, like he’s going through the motions without really following through. Eileen, as if drawn to him by a spell, practically floats away.

“She’s a strange one,” he says fondly, though Charlotte kindly doesn’t point out the hypocrisy in his words, “Keanu and Alex act like she’s some aloof, inscrutable woman; weren’t sure we were talking about the same woman,” he huffed a laugh, much to Charlotte’s disbelief.

“Eileen... she is an aloof, inscrutable woman, you just happen to live with her arch nemesis, and- you’re- we’re- you know, we’re...” Charlotte gestured between herself and Razzle, flushing, as his smile widened, “and you know, I’m her best friend.”

“Guys, are you buying food or what?” The concierge asks; a tired-looking kid Charlotte recognises from Tommy’s year. She hops forward, ordering food, and waiting for it to be prepared, all while standing by Razzle’s side, his chin on her should as they watch the preview trailers. He’s behind her, warm and solid and grounding, which is exactly what she needs as her cousin’s beat-up excuse of a car screeches into the lot, almost spraying gravel thanks to his sharp turn into the first available space.

“Oh god, oh fucking hell,” Charlotte breathes, clenching her eyes tightly shut, “if you see a blonde-haired, six-foot stick-insect, who looks like he’d cheat on his girlfriend,” she starts, whole face scrunching with frustration, “and-or Nikki fucking Sixx, well, that would be about right; that feels like how tonight would go,” she lets out a long, frustrated breath, and she feels Razzle lift his chin from her shoulder right as he makes a noise of confusion.

“Tommy just arrived,” she clarified.

“Oh?”

“And we kind of got into an argument yesterday.”

“Oh.”

Charlotte’s name is called and she collects the bucket of popcorn she’d ordered for the pair of them, and Razzle picks up their drinks, heading back to the car as the movie opens.

“You wanna talk about whatever’s going on with you and that Drummer Boy?” Razzle asks as they’re settling in the back seat together. Charlotte’s detaching the front seat’s headrests with possibly too much vigour, but declines, despite the frustration written all over her face. Razzle keeps a careful hold on the drinks that he’d thought were safe to balance on the centre console as Charlotte foisted herself over the back seat to pull the blankets she’d packed from the trunk.

“You sure?” Razzle tried again, still with one hand nervously keeping the drinks in place, the other firmly holding their bucket of popcorn out of harm’s way. With a blanket securely bundled in her arms, Charlotte gives him a flat look, that quickly disappears in the face of his genuine concern.

“No, Razz,” she sighed, “I’m just mad at myself for letting this, like, fester, you know? I should have apologised sooner,” she huffs a sigh, unfurling the blanket with far more care now, draping it across both of their laps.

“You’ve a good heart, Miss Lee,” Razzle assures her, but Charlotte’s face scrunches reflexively at the nickname, having only ever associated it with Nikki Sixx’s dreadful attempts to hit on her.

“Thanks, but please don’t call me that,” Charlotte gives a strained little smile, but Razzle nods and takes it in stride, finally getting himself comfortable and sitting back against the seat, one arm draped across the back, the other holding the popcorn in his lap.

“No worries, Love; I could call you Charlie, but I always thought it sounded a bit weird coming from me,” Razzle is rambling as Charlotte settles against him, tucking herself up close to him, “had a mate back home called Charlie, but short for Charles; absolute cockhead,” he clicks his tongue as Charlotte can’t help but giggle, “I could always keep just calling you Love, but it’s not as personal, you know? And Charlotte... it’s a pretty name, but it would be like if you started calling me Nicholas, be a bit weird, don’t ya think?” He mused, and Charlotte’s eyes drifted from the opening scene of the movie, where a menacing looking knife-glove was being created, to Razzle’s face as he chattered away.

“I could keep calling you Princess Charlie,” as he says that, he looks to her, and seems a little startled to see her looking back at him, “like the other day,” his voice is softer, eyes wide, roaming her face, as if trying to capture her fond expression in his memory forever.

“You wouldn’t imagine your friend Charlie from back home a tiara?” Charlotte’s voice is amused, as is her expression, and Razzle’s eyes crease in the corners as he smiles; his eyes as so blue, so honest.

“You’d be the only Princess Charlie in my life,” he assures, giving her shoulder a squeeze where his arm is wrapped around her, and Charlotte doesn’t even think about how they’re less than a minute into the movie before she’s kissing him.

At least it gets her to stop thinking about Tommy.

Honestly, it gets her to stop thinking about everyone and everything that isn’t Razzle in this car in this moment, which is fine for her, because her life is somehow currently a stupid, complicated mess of people and emotions, and Razzle is nice to her, and a damn good kisser, and gentle, and his hands are warm -

“Miss Lee, does the Declaration of Independence mean nothing to you?” Comes shouted through the wound-up window of the car, startling Charlotte, who’s been in Razzle’s lap with his lips on her neck, so much that she jumped, smacking the back of her head into the roof of the car. Razzle reached out for her, expression concerned and lips kiss-bruised, as Charlotte held her head, wincing. Looking to the window, however, she could see Nikki Sixx pressing his face to the glass, looking altogether unsightly, with Lola a few feet behind him, drawing something in the gravel with the toe of her shoe.

Assholes!

“I’m gonna kill him,” Charlotte says with deadly calm the moment she understands the situation, though Razzle seems to have anticipated this, and has his hands on her thighs, keeping her secure in his firm grip.

“No,” Razzle says, voice equally as calm, his gaze focused on Charlotte, and not on Nikki who had put his open mouth on the window, puffed out his cheeks, and proceeded to lick the glass. Charlotte scrunches her expression for a moment, internal debate raging between her desire to stay in the car with Razzle, and her need to beat the ever-loving shit out of Nikki Sixx for being a smartass.

“I’m gonna crack the window and inch and tell him to fuck off,” Charlotte says, looking back to Razzle, who was wearing an expression of faint amusement, and his grip became a little less firm. Reaching over, she wound down the window an inch. Immediately, Nikki looked through the gap, cheek still pressed to the window as his gaze darted around the cabin of the car, no longer obscured by the window tint.

“I’m surprised you know what the Declaration of Independence is,” Charlotte said, tone icy as she moved to sit next to Razzle.

“Honestly I stole that line from Lola,” Nikki admitted, and upon hearing her name, even faintly, Lola joins them, thankfully not pressing herself to the window, instead standing close to Nikki, her hip by his, hands in her jacket pockets.

“Were they doing it?” Lola asks far too casually, almost too quiet for Charlotte and Razzle to hear, though they do, and both blush, even as Nikki pulls back, making a face.

“No,” Charlotte calls back, and Lola’s expression turns smug as she holds out her hand, making a ‘hand it over’ gesture to Nikki, only for him to begrudgingly hand over a five dollar note.

“Shoulda waited ‘til the end of the movie to ask,” Lola’s grin stretched wider, even as Charlotte tried to splutter a protest, and Razzle had to press his face against her shoulder to muffle his laugh at the whole situation.

“Why are you assholes here?” Charlotte hissed; strangely, Lola’s expression fell, and she stepped back again, adding more to her gravel drawing with her shoe, not looking at the car.

“We’re at the drive in because I’ve heard this is a good movie,” Nikki goes back to staring at them through the inch crack in the window, “and we’re here-” his tone turns proud while his smile turns sharp as he taps his nail against the glass, “because we’re trying to give Tommy and Heather privacy,” he all but sings. There’s... a lot to unpack there, however before Charlotte can process any of it, Lola grab’s Nikki by the elbow, pulling him away.

“Come on, I didn’t take a night off to talk to people I can see every day, did you bring weed or not?” She insisted, tone frustrated leading him towards the concierge stand. Something about it had Charlotte’s heart sinking, even as Razzle’s still chuckling and confused about what was going on, Charlotte’s heart was sinking.

Tommy had driven Nikki and Lola - and Heather? What? - to the drive in. Tommy and Lola had almost definitely spoken about the fight Charlotte and Tommy had had, which means Lola almost definitely knew what Charlotte had said.

“Everything okay, Princess?” Razzle had asked gently, his arm around her once more as Charlotte had buried her face in her hands.

“My whole life is fucked,” Charlotte muttered, and Razzle pulled her in close to him. Her legs bridge over his thighs, and he’s holding her close with both arms, keeping her warm and secure, and Charlotte takes a moment, then another, then a third, to take comfort.

She’s going to miss this. Going to miss him. Fuck, she can’t think like that, can’t keep reminding herself of the time limit on their friendship, the reason she’s scared to call it anything more.

Everything is fucked, but this one moment, how Razzle was holding her close, devoid of it’s context, it was pretty damn great.

a friend will help you move. a best friend will help you move bodies. but if you have to move your best friend's body, you're on your own

Charlotte goes to see Tommy on Saturday morning, but when she gets there, he’s not home.

“He’s at a movie~ with a girl~!” Athena sings, when Charlotte asks, and Charlotte, confused and concerned, looked to her aunt, Tommy’s mother, who gave a kind smile and nod of confirmation.

“He was so nervous and excited, spent a long time doing his hair just right,” she giggled fondly, pride in her voice, but Charlotte’s heart was in her throat. Had what she said somehow guilted Lola into dating her cousin? That could only end badly for both of them, oh fuck -

Except when she bursts into Leo’s at eleven, after most of the breakfast diners had vacated, and the lunch rush was still about half an hour away, Lola was standing behind the counter... with Peach? Teaching her how to fold silverware in napkins correctly?

“Do you know... do know that thing where you fold it into a swan?” Peach asks, giggling, right as one of the other kind-faced staff members approaches Charlotte and asks her how many people she’d like a table for. Lola instinctually looks to the door, and Peach catches on a moment later, and suddenly both girls behind the counter are frowning in Charlotte’s direction. Lola mutters something to Peach that’s too quiet for Charlotte to hear, and the younger redhead immediately takes the silverware they’ve already wrapped, going around and dispensing it amongst each table’s silverware holder. Peach is in uniform.

“I just...” Charlotte’s voice is soft, while her gaze is locked with Lola’s, brushing past the host who’d greeted her, “I need to talk to Lola.” The host looks over his shoulder at Lola, who looks his way for the barest moment and gives half a shrug. The kid backs off, looking past Charlotte to the street outside to see if anyone else was coming in after her, and upon seeing no-one, he heads back to the counter.

“Hey Peach,” Charlotte says as the redhead slides past her to get to another table. Peach doesn’t even look at her when she gives a flat greeting in response.

“How can I help you?” Lola’s painfully sweet customer-service voice hurts more than any sarcastic remark she could have come up with, and it’s eating Charlotte alive to know what Tommy told her, what Lola thinks Charlotte thinks of her to make her act so hostile. The way she’s smiling so widely coupled with her dead-eyed stare is unnerving.

“Keola!” It comes as a shock when a firm voice comes from the kitchen, and Lola practically jumps from her skin. Looking to the source, Charlotte sees the face of the man she’s only ever seen the back of in the kitchen, taller than anyone else in the restaurant, and he looks like Lola.

“What?” Lola hisses, surprising Charlotte, and the man looks to Charlotte, giving her a warm, friendly smile, before he answers.

“If you need to talk to,” and the man pauses, tipping his head a little as he looks to Charlotte, “Charlie?” And Charlotte, kind of confused and nervous as to how he knows her name, nods in confirmation, “you can take your break, okay? Water, fresh air, outside -” and without waiting for a confirmation, he calls the kid who had greeted Charlotte to come and take Lola’s place at the counter, as Lola begrudgingly grabs a bottle of water from beneath the counter, and storms out from behind the counter, past Charlotte to the door.

Charlotte, a little terrified, looks to the man, who gives another bright smile.

“Sorry we haven’t properly met, I’m Leo, glad to finally meet you, Charlie,” and immediately everything makes total and complete sense, and Charlotte nervously greets him, and takes off after Lola, who had disappeared down the street.

#nikki sixx #Razzle Dingley #Tommy Lee #mick mars #the dirt #motley crue #nikki sixx x oc #razzle dingley x oc #tommy lee x oc #dirtbags #the dirt imagine #the angry lizard writes

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angrylizardjacket · 4 years

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he said “you’ll never be forgiven ‘til your boys are too.” - Colors (Halsey)

Charlotte/Razzle & Nikki/Lola for @misscharlottelee

#nikki sixx x oc #razzle dingley x oc #nikki sixx #razzle dingley #the dirt #motley crue #hanoi rocks #also tommy is charlotte's cousin but the lyrics fit too well for me to change it #the angry lizard speaks #ocpoetry #fc: natacha karam #fc: victoria pedretti #nikki x lola #charlotte & lola #lola&charlotte

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angrylizardjacket · 4 years

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and you’ll never feel left all alone // 1 // charlotte&lola (penny&jupiter)

Summary: Jupiter (Lola & Tommy’s kid) and Penny (Charlotte & Razzle’s kid) find some old home movies, and watch some old interviews on YouTube. This should be fine, right? Definitely not going to be a sad trip down memory lane.

A/N: I write for 3 people apparently; me, @missleenmilliet, and that one anon who was invested in Gabs’ blog abt these gals. But also fuck i love writing this, it’s so angsty and i love family dynamics and also insights into Lola and Tommy’s relationship post-kid but when they’re not together..... idk im a mess abt this.

----

The label on the video tape reads 'Christmas 1991' in Tommy's messy handwriting, and Jupiter doesn't quite know what possess them, but they put the tape in and press play.

"What'd you find?" Penny asks, looking up from a box of old notebooks that she'd been poring over, intrigued to hear the television start up.

"Home movies, I think."

“Hi Lily-pad,” the woman in the video looks and sounds like their mother, but so bright and young, and Jupiter is frozen, eyes glued to the screen.

They watch the recording, as a young child with dark hair and dark eyes runs into frame, almost barreling Lola over. The kid couldn’t be more than three or four, waddling, with hair so long it had to be put in braids, or it would be an untamable nightmare. Lola drops the duffle bag she'd been holding in favour of scooping up the kid, the young Jupiter, grinning so wide, so bright, kissing all over their face as they giggle, “I’ve missed you so much!” Lola exclaimed, and hugs the kid close, and the kid hugs her back.

“Momma!” The kid snuggles against Lola, smiling, “daddy, you were right!” They turn to look at whoever's behind the camera, and Lola's expression turns fond, her gaze focused on the child.

“Of course, Lily-pad, wouldn’t miss this for the world!” Lola assured them, holding their daughter in one arm, refusing to put them down, she bends to pick up her bag before finally turning her gaze to the camera, and her already bright smile widens.

"Where'd you find that old thing?" Lola asks, and young Jupiter's looking at the person behind the camera with a smile.

"Garage," comes Tommy's reply, and he steps forward when Jupiter makes insistent grabby-hands at the lense, and Tommy lets her take a hold on the camera, though his gentle 'careful, Liss' could still be heard, and full of curiosity, the toddler presses her face against the camera lense, much to Lola and Tommy's amusement.

"I forgot how cute you were back then," Penny nudges Jupiter in the ribs, the two of them side-by-side on the floor of Tommy's garage, having dusted off the old VCR and home movies.

"I don't remember this," Jupiter’s voice is quiet and they can't seem to look away.

The video follows as the trio walk through the halls of Tommy's mansion, the very building they were staying in now.

"How are Nikki and Mick?" Tommy asks, quick to add, "and Alice, of course."

"They're good, Nikki's doing really well, Alice especially has been super supportive, and Mick…" she trails off for a moment, "Mick is Mick." Is all she can offer, but Tommy seems to get it, enough to at least laugh.

"What are they doing today? We could have invited them."

"Nikki's fine, he sends his love by the way, he's hanging out with Slash and his missus, and a couple of other guys from the band; their kid's almost Penny's age, how wild is that?" Lola asks, and Tommy makes a noise in the back of his throat. "No, Duff won't be there," Lola knows without even having to hear his complaint, what's set him off on a mood. "He's holidaying in Australia this year."

"Hope he gets sunburnt," Tommy grumbles, "or eaten by a shark."

"Tommy…"

"Whatever, doesn't matter anyways, how are you? What have you been up to?" He asks, and they're in the living room now, and the camera catches it as Jupiter scampers from Lola's arms and heads into the bustling kitchen, announcing her arrival.

"I've been busy, of course, with the Alice collaboration, and I've been looking at renting a bigger office, hiring some interns," she sounds a little proud, and Tommy sets the camera down; neither are in frame.

"Really moving up in the world," Tommy's smile is clear in his voice.

"And, uh," Lola hesitates, and there's rustling like she's digging in her pockets, "ninety days." She says quietly, finally, and a silence follows.

"I'm so proud of you, dude, that's awesome." Tommy's voice is muffled, like he's speaking into her hair, and then there's movement from the camera as he's picking it up, focusing it on a mildly embarrassed Lola.

"I'm commemorating this moment;" Tommy told her, and Lola can't help her little, embarrassed smile as she holds up the little 90 Days Sober chip, "Merry Christmas, Lols, I'm so damn proud."

The video roughly cuts to a shot of Tommy in front of the Christmas tree, frowning at the camera, before double checking it was stable. When he moves away, the rest of the room is revealed. Tommy's parents sit on the sofa, watching young Jupiter, and what can only be a young Penny diligently shaking presents with their names on it.

Penny is almost six, strikingly blonde, and looks like a young woman on a mission, methodically going through all of her presents and trying to hear what was inside. Jupiter, however, watches Penny pick up a present, and follows suit, too young to read, to know if their name's on it, and when Penny shakes her present, Jupiter copies her tenuously, not quite grasping what they were doing. Penny catches the way Jupiter's watching her, and then looks at the present.

"That's not yours," Penny tells Jupiter, and gently takes the small box from her, "that's for Nana." And she puts it back beneath the tree, scouring the pile of presents, before she finds a small, soft, strangely shaped one and hands it to Jupiter. "This is for you." And she says it so matter-of-factly. Jupiter shakes it, confused, watching Penny for approval. "Can you hear what's inside?" Penny asks, and Jupiter shakes her head, looking a little concerned, as if she'd done something wrong.

"Well then why don't you open it up and see what's inside?" Lola offers, stepping into frame and sitting by the Christmas tree. Jupiter tears into the paper like a wild animal, and for a moment they're turned away, before they go still.

"He's got sticks like daddy," and they sound overjoyed, turning to excitedly show their grandparents the teddy bear wearing a black t-shirt with the Theatre of Pain mask on it, holding two plush drumsticks.

"And Penny, I know you're a bit old for bears," Lola started tentatively, reaching for a similarly shaped package near the base of the tree, handing it over to the blonde girl, "but your dad was a drummer too, just like your uncle." And Penny's far more subdued than Jupiter, who's climbed into her Grandfather's lap and started to air drum with the bear, already seemingly forgetting the rest of the room.

Penny's bear has a little, black tophat, and a black shirt with the cover of Hanoi Rocks' first album, 'Bangkok Shocks, Saigon Shakes, Hanoi Rocks' printed on it, and two little drumsticks. The bear is smiling.

"We match!" Jupiter exclaims, upon seeing Penny's bear, but Penny herself doesn't seem to notice, just gives Lola a tight hug.

“Oh,” it was Penny’s turn to go soft, in the present, watching the surprisingly high-quality recording of something she hadn’t even realise she would remember, “I’ve still got that bear somewhere.”

“I don’t.” Jupiter sounds like they regret that, “when I was twenty-something, you remember I burnt all the shit that Lola ever gave me.”

“Yeah, I remember your Y2k party.”

“I miss that bear,” Jupiter admits, almost inaudibly.

They watch as the family opens Christmas presents together, the girls getting a range of toys and clothes, all in pinks, purples, and blacks. Penny gets a set of glow in the dark stars for the ceiling of her room, and Jupiter gets a plush planet in tie-dyed neon purple.

And then there’s another cut, a strange angle, like the camera’s set on a coffee table, catching the side-profile of the piano and stool beside it. Lola’s sitting on said stool, watching Tommy as he makes sure the camera’s recording. She looks at Tommy with a quiet happiness, almost like she was content; with ankles crossed, wearing a thick, knitted sweater, she looks, for lack of a better word, domesticated.

Tommy looks back at her, and for just a moment, he pauses.

“What?” Lola half laughs, sounding more gentle than she’d usually ever let herself sound on camera.

“You just look really good,” Tommy grins, “healthy and shit; you look like you’re doing good.” After a moment, there comes a quiet giggle from off camera, and both Tommy and Lola turn, grinning.

It’s Penny and Jupiter, and Jupiter sits in Lola’s lap, and Tommy scoops up Penny and sits her in his lap when he joins Lola by the piano. The two dutifully inform the pair by the piano that Grandma and Grandpa Bass have gone upstairs to take a nap, and that they had been very well tucked in and kissed goodnight. It’s almost painfully adorable.

And Lola’s hands come up to the keys, and Jupiter uses her arms like armrests, and asks what’s happening.

“It’s tradition,” Penny tells her matter-of-factly, and Tommy presses a kiss to the top of his niece's head before agreeing.

“It’s a Christmas present I gave your mommy a long time ago,” Tommy told Jupiter, who was watching as Lola carefully played a few scales.

“A piano?” Jupiter asked, and Lola laughed gently, her fingers stilling for a moment.

“No, Lily-pad, he gave me the chance to get back to doing something I loved,” she said gently, before her fingers found the opening chords for Home Sweet Home. When Lola sings it, it sounds like a lullaby, and Tommy holds little Penny, watching in quiet awe.

“You know I'm a dreamer, but my heart's of gold, I had to run away high, so I wouldn’t come home low,” her voice catches, and Tommy fills in, matches her tone, her gentle singing, and Jupiter looks up at him, eyes bright and full of wonder as the song turns to a quiet duet between their parents.

And in the present, Jupiter doesn’t realise they’re crying until they feel the tear tracks beginning to dry on their cheeks.

“She always played that one,” Jupiter scrubs almost angrily at their cheeks, as if trying to erase the proof of their emotions before anyone could accuse them of having any of them. When all they hear is a choked noise beside them, they turn and Penny’s silently sobbing, not even trying to hide her tears.

“I- I forgot, f... fuck.” And then she’s fumbling, pulling out her phone, clicking and typing before pulling up a YouTube video.

HANOI ROCKS Razzle Dingley & Charlotte Lee Cutest Moments the title reads, and Penny flicks through to about the two minute mark. It’s an interview, the footage grainy, but Charlotte and Razzle are side by side on a sofa, his hand on her knee, and the pair look so elated.

“So do you, what do you put on for your daughter to go to sleep to? Is she nodding off to like, Motley Crue’s Kick Start My Heart? or Razzle, is she more of a Boulevard of Broken Dreams girl?” The reporter asks, tone light and a little teasing, and Penny’s parents laugh in the recording, and they catch how Razzle tips his head to lean against Charlotte just a little more.

“Pennylope’s gonna grow up to be a real rock an’ roller, I can tell you that, she’ll know all the words to my songs before she knows mam or dad, I’ll bet,” Razzle grins and it’s all teeth, but Charlotte doesn’t seem inclined to disagree.

“I tried to change her while listening to a demo of their new album, and she just wouldn’t stop dancing,” Charlotte adds, before her grin turns a little mischevious, “don’t tell Tommy I said this, but Motley’s stuff scares her half to death; I put on Shout at the Devil the other day and she started bawling her eyes out.” Which sets Razzle off laughing, nodding, and Charlotte tucks her arm in his; they’re almost sickeningly cute. Sitting like this, the studio lights catch the glint of their respective wedding rings.

“No, no, tell ‘em about that cute thing, though,” Razzle urges, nudging Charlotte’s knee, “tell ‘em about the Motley song she likes.”

“The one,” Charlotte emphasizes with a laugh, but obliges, “so yeah, there’s this one song she does like, and it’s one I’m quite fond of -”

“You’re biased,” Razzle goads her fondly, and Charlotte rolls her eyes.

“Am not -”

“Your cousin wrote it!”

“Co-wrote it! And that doesn’t make it less cute.”

“It is pretty fuckin’ cute.” Razzle agrees, and shuts up enough for Charlotte to actually finish the story, though he’s got this starry-eyed gaze the whole time.

“So Tommy and Nikki wrote this, actually partially for me and for, uh, not exactly sure what to call her, Lola, their assistant manager, I guess? Who they were sort of dating? It’s a whole things, but we’d all just been having an atrocious time on tour in like, eighty-two, all ready to go home, and I remember one night just seeing Lola and Nikki curled up at the back of the tour bus, Lola was almost asleep, and Nikki was being like,” she laughs, “uncharacteristically cute, saying stuff like, ‘not long now ‘till we’re home sweet home’ and I just remember Tommy absolutely just taking that phrase and running with it.” She takes a breath now, seeming much more gentle and honest, fidgeting a little, “and we just, it just sort of became an anthem between the four of us, a signal, like a little thing we’d start to hum if we were feeling homesick or needed some comfort, it wasn’t a romantic thing, it was just a need for human contact and connection, you know, a bat-signal for ‘I’m having a shit time please come hug me’.” Though she laughs, it’s far more honest than she’d probably intended, and it seems to occur to her as she takes a deep, shaking breath, just how honest she’s allowed herself to be. After a beat, she swallows heavy, tentatively humming the opening notes of the song, before looking to the camera, and then to Razzle. Her humming goes quiet. He drops a kiss to her shoulder in silent solidarity.

“Just, you know, just take this song and you’ll never feel left all alone,” she quotes the song, looking back at the camera as she smiles softly, and her hand moves to hold Razzle’s, “and when I hear that, it’s my family, like my real family with Tommy, and my band family, giving me support, and it reminds me every time Nic’s on tour that he’ll be back soon, and it’s the support I wanna give my daughter, my little Pennylope. That I’ll never be too far away.” She says with such heartfelt sincerity, before she laughs a little, and the interview cuts to a new clip in a jarring fashion, but Penny turns off her phone. Her hands are shaking, and she’s crying. Jupiter wraps her up in a hug.

“I just f- forgot about... we haven’t had family Christmas in so long and I just- it was their song, Jup, and now it’s our song, and I just... I miss it.” She tucks her face into the crook of Jupiter’s neck, and Jupiter has absolutely no idea what to say, knowing only that they’ve started crying again. For the longest time, they stay like that, the two of them holding each other in the dusty garage, with the home video paused in front of them.

Neither of them have seen Lola in person for a very long time, not properly, and the premiere of The Dirt doesn’t exactly count.

Silently, Penny moves away, moves to rewind the tape, to listen to the exchange, the song again. Jupiter is frozen, doesn’t even know what they feel, or how to process what is happening.

“It’s tradition.” Young Penny tells them both from the recording again, and she sounds so earnest it almost hurts.

“It’s a Christmas present I gave your mommy a long time ago,” Tommy, so young, so gentle and caring, smiles in the video.

“A piano?” Jupiter asked, voice high and young and curious, which makes Lola laugh, gentle and fond, a sound that makes present-day Jupiter’s heart ache.

“No, Lily-pad, he gave me the chance to get back to doing something I loved.”

#Tommy Lee #tommy lee imagine #lola x tommy #razzle dingley #razzle dingley x oc #razzle dingley imagine #the dirt #oc #motley crue #hanoi rocks #the angry lizard writes #lola & charlotte

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angrylizardjacket · 3 years

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dirtbags // 4: Lola

Summary: High school AU. 1985. Winter. Heather’s party is huge; Lola makes new friends, get better acquainted with some underclassmen, and turns out to be far cozier with the hostess than anyone could guess. The next day, Nikki comes to work despite his hangover, while Charlotte and Eileen plan Vince’s murder. Razzle’s just there to have fun.

A/N: 6603 words. For @misscharlottelee and @julymotel , my beloveds, as always. Sorry it's late, it's been a hell of a week. But, here's the kids. I should say that this chapter does include slight, implied internalised homophobia, just as a warning.

judge if you want, we are all going to die. i intend to deserve it.

For the record, Lola isn’t a party-goer by nature, and the fact that she’s been to two in as many months is baffling her. Usually she just goes to see bands, and sometimes hangs out at peoples’ houses, but high school parties specifically alluded her for most of her time in Boston. It’s not that she wasn’t invited, but her mom had been something of a hardass, and the closest she’d ever gotten was when drunk kids made their way to the diner right before closing on a Friday or Saturday.

Her dad’s fully supportive of her going out and partying, which is weird in it’s own right. He writes down their home phone number on a piece of paper, in case Lola can’t remember it when she’s drunk - his words - and tells her to call whenever she needs a lift. Don’t go get into a car with strangers. Drink plenty of water. Be safe. Have fun.

“Dad, you’re being weird,” she’d told him flatly, applying eyeliner to her waterline in the bathroom. Leo, leaning against the door with his arms crossed, was watching her with a fond expression.

“If I was a hardass and banned you from going out, you’d probably still sneak out anyways -” Lola goes to protest, which Leo finds sweet, but he holds a hand up, and she lets him continue, “not that I don’t think you respect me, but I just know what it was like being a teenager; if you got into trouble while sneaking out, you wouldn’t feel like you could call me for help,” he explained, giving pause, “but I always will, you know that, right?” And Lola nods, but goes back to applying eyeliner, knowing her father’s tone of voice too well, anticipating the fact that he was about to dive into a story of his own to help prove his point.

“When I was your age, or maybe a bit younger, fifteen or sixteen, me and some friends snuck out to a bonfire one night that my parents had absolutely forbidden me from going to, and I ended up needing to go to the emergency room from a burn I got on my hand from being an idiot around the fire,” and he raised his left hand, to show the still visible, large scar on his palm, “I was more terrified of what my father would do than of the burn itself so I didn’t try and call him or mum; I walked home from the hospital alone the next morning, and lied about how I got the burn.”

Lola paused, lowering the eyeliner pencil, meeting her father’s gaze in the mirror. Leo’s smile had turned a little sad at the memory; Lola doesn’t hear much about her grandparents, and she wonders if stories like this are the reason why.

“You’re my kid, Keola, I never want you to think you can’t come to me for help, okay?” It’s rare for Leo to use Lola’s full first name, usually reserving it for more poignant and earnest moments, so every comment about how he’s being a sap, or that she already knows, dies on Lola’s tongue.

“Thanks, dad,” she smiles soft, and Leo smiles back, all crows feet and laugh lines, before he tells her that she looks badass, and he steps out of the doorframe, heading back downstairs to the diner.

By the time Lola shows up, it’s just edging past eight-thirty, though the party still seems to be in its early stages. There’s music that can be heard down the street, and fairy lights scattered throughout the garden, though most of the partygoers who had already arrived are still confined to the house. Apart from a gangly, dark-haired boy whose face she knows, but whose name she doesn’t, sitting on the wide, ostentatious front steps, looking up at the stars glittering overhead. There’s a cigarette in a loose grip between two fingers, though the ash has already burnt down half of it without him tapping it off; it’s almost comical, she’s pretty sure he hasn’t even put it to his lips yet.

“You’re wasting that,” Lola points out, and the guy is jolted from his thoughts, the movement sharp enough to have the ash falling from the cigarette and to the ground by his shoes. He looks to the cigarette, which has gone out, and then to Lola, a little helpless, “I could take it off your hands,” she offers, unsure of how to proceed, and he holds the cigarette out, smile blooming on his face.

“I can’t get the hang of it; I’m playing a smoker in this play I’m doing in a month, and I’ve been trying, you know, make it feel natural, never seems to,” his mouth is curved into a bemused smile as he shrugs helplessly, watching Lola tuck the half a cigarette behind her ear. For a moment, his eyes roam his face, like he’s searching for something to recognize, and she can read it all over him when he finds it, his eyes alight with familiarity, “you work at the diner!”

Lola hates how disarming she finds his earnestness. He doesn’t mention her reputation or the rumours around her, which she’s pretty sure he would have heard since she’s eighty-percent sure he goes to her school.

“Lola,” she offers her hand, and he takes it, using it as leverage to get to his feet before he gives it a proper shake.

“Keanu,” he says, matter-of-factly, still grinning, and Lola suddenly knows where she knows him from. The school musical sign-up sheet is on the Art Faculty’s notice board right outside her art classroom, and she’s been staring at his name amongst a small list of others, including Eileen’s, much to Lola’s surprise, while she and the rest of her art class wait to get into their room.

At least she’s pretty sure it’s him; Keanu’s not exactly a common name. The only other time she’d heard it was in one of her dad’s stories, it was the name of one of his childhood friends -

She leaves it be; he groans and stretches, and there’s an idle moment where his shirt rides up, and Lola reminds herself to focus on the person who actually invited her, and to stop getting fleeting feelings for people she barely knows just because they’re pretty. Lola mutters that she needs a drink, and Keanu claps her on the shoulder and agrees, the two of them heading inside.

Heather’s house is in the same part of town as Vince’s, almost an hour’s walk from the diner, but somehow Heather’s is even nicer. Sprawling front lawn, abstract paintings and movie props on little, pristine pedestals inside, Lola feels like she’s lowering the property value just by stepping foot inside. The party was easily both the nicest and most raucous Lola had ever been to, which, granted, wasn’t saying a lot, but their house was wired with speakers, all connected back to the jukebox in the living room, and Heather’s parents had even let her hire coloured lights.

“As long as the cops aren’t called, we can do whatever we want,” was the message passed around the school from Heather herself. Lola’s feels as though that probably won’t bode well for her parents’ elegantly displayed collectables, but whatever, it’s not like it’s Lola’s problem.

Already there’s a decent crowd inside, and Lola loses Keanu amongst them, making a beeline for the kitchen, manoeuvring around the house with easy familiarity. She reaches pushes past several people to get to the fridge, reaching all the way to the back, past a set of tupperware, to the bottle of wine Heather’s mom had stashed there. Lola removes the sticky note telling everyone not to touch it, and uncorks the bottle over the sink, scowling.

It feels like she’s floating through the night, no-one around that she knows just yet, disconnected from everyone else, carrying the bottle of wine by her side, occasionally taking a drink. Moving from room to room, she takes her time people watching, and guessing how long before the various, expensive props and bric-a-brac were being used for things counter to their intended purpose.

In the front room, there’s finally someone she recognises, kind of; the the young redhead, the fruit one- Peach! She’s unsteady on her feet, beautiful and angry, defiantly making her way through a can of cheap beer, and Lola wonders where the rest of her clique is, that sister of hers, Eileen, even Charlotte.

“You okay?” Lola’s never been great at comforting people, but Peach is currently leaning against a wall at a forty-five degree angle after losing her balance, and scowling. She’s drunk. Already. Fuck.

“I’m fine! Freaking- fucking great!” She’s not even looking at Lola properly, glaring out the window she’d narrowly missed falling on. Lola follows her gaze. It’s just passed nine, and Tommy and Charlotte can be seen walking up to the door; they don’t see Peach or Lola, thankfully.

“You - you’re friends with that... that mean, asshole, punk guy, right?” Peach asks, standing upright so suddenly she overbalances again, and Lola has to catch her elbow to keep her from topping. Peach slaps her hand away, but keeps her balance, obviously with a bee in her bonnet about something that Lola couldn’t even begin it fathom.

“Nikki?” Lola clarifies flatly, amused but not wanting it to show. Peach nods solemnly. Lola bites back a laugh, “yes, I’m friends with him, why?”

“Is he coming tonight?” Peach asks, tone almost forcibly coy and casual, raising her can of drink, taking large gulps as Lola says that he mentioned that he should be, and then asks why. Peach goes quiet. Lola had thought it impossible for Peach’s scowl to grow deeper, but it did, as a blush began to creep up her neck.

“You know my sister, right? Eileen?” Peach says, instead, and Lola nods slowly, and she takes a swig of wine, “she’s a year - a single goddamn year - older than me; I’m sixteen, Lola, she said I was too young to go to a party like this.” And yeah, okay, Lola makes a face at that; she was the same age as Tommy, and he’s done objectively worse stuff in front of Eileen and Charlotte with no complaints. The last house party flashes through Lola’s mind, and she grimaces - “exactly, it’s dumb! Charlie had been dating Duff for a year by the time she was my age, and let me tell you, they were proper gross!” Peach sways a little, and Lola reminds her that she has no idea who Duff is; Peach calls him a word that shocks Lola to hear her say it, especially for a girl who had to correct herself from saying freaking to fucking just moments ago.

“Noted,” Lola nods, and takes another drink; she’s almost a third through the bottle.

“I’m not a child, Lola,” Peach says, as seriously as she can muster, and, as if light a lightbulb has gone off above Lola’s head, she realises why Peach was asking after Nikki.

“You’re not,” Lola agrees slowly, and looks around, hoping to spot Charlotte or Tommy around, someone better suited to talking an angry, determined Peach out of something she’d regret.

“Don’t take that tone with me,” Peach huffed, standing to her full height, which unfortunately for Lola, made her taller by a few inches, “you know what, fuck you, Lola -”

“Peach -”

“No, fuck that, I know that tone -”

“Never thought I’d see you out at a place like this, Peach,” there’s a warm familiarity in the voice that joins them, and Peach visibly relaxes. Lola turns, and sees Vince Neil, bleach blonde, decked out in his usual, obnoxious white.

“Fuck off, Vince,” Peach mumbles, turning back to the window in an attempt to hide her sudden blush. Lola raises her eyebrows and looks to Vince, intrigued. The moment his gaze meets Lola’s, Vince turns quietly awkward, and can do little more than offer a shrug.

“Peach?” He tries again, and Peach finishes her drink, tipping her head back, and doesn’t even seem to notice that she’s started to topple back until he catches her, “fuck, Peach.” He says, still holding her.

“You really should fuck off,” Peach says, softer this time, leaning into him, and something pained flashes across Vince’s expression for the barest moment; Peach doesn’t notice in her state, but Lola sees it.

“Eileen been in your ear lately?” Vince asks through gritted teeth. Peach’s scowl back in full force, and she’s righting herself.

“No,” she snaps, an obvious lie, and she pushes past Lola, making her unsteady way to the kitchen, Vince obviously feeling some sort of obligation to her, following quickly in her wake. Thank God. Lola really didn’t want to take care of a girl she barely knows all night.

She’s two thirds of the way through the bottle of wine, feeling good and buzzed, and she’s made polite conversation with the people she knows and the people she doesn’t, the people who know her by reputation, or from the diner, polite to a fault, knowing too much and too little about her all at once.

Tommy’s roped them into a conversation with a few kids from his year that Lola doesn’t recognize any of them, and one, drunk, brunette, stupid, asks her about the rumours, in a crude, roundabout way. Tommy’s hand is firm on Lola’s shoulder, apology in his eyes as he silently pleads with her to not make a scene. Lola kicks his asshole friend in the shin anyways, and spits that he has terrible taste in friends.

Charlotte waves to her, but Lola doesn’t see it in her angry state, storming up the stairs to the second floor. It’s quieter up here, mostly. There’s a group in a side room playing spin the bottle, and people taking advantage of Heather’s parents’ bedroom, and the door to Heather’s room is closed. Lola bangs her closed fist on the nondescript door.

“Who is it?” Heather’s voice, strained, rings out from the other side.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Lola whined through a lie, banging again. There’s scuffling on the other side, Heather hissing for whoever’s with her to go, to get out the window, anything. Lola smirks, “please, all the other bathrooms are -” and she fake gags, right as the door wrenches open to show Heather’s flustered face, hair a mess, scowling.

“What?”

“I’m lying,” Lola whispered, leaning against the doorframe, pushing down all her annoyance at Tommy and his asshole friends, and playing at being coy. Heather huffs an annoyed breath through her nose.

“I know,” she snaps, but lets Lola in anyways, and Lola automatically closes the door behind herself, leaning her back against it, watching Heather try and act casual, heading to her bed, “should I be jealous?” Lola smirks, and Heather shoots her a filthy look. Lola takes a long drink of the wine, and Heather’s expression turns from angry, to simply annoyed.

“Of course, of fucking course, you, the only asshole who actually knew about it-”

“Your mom can buy another one, it’s not like you’re not -”

“Don’t say it,” Heather warns, sitting on the edge of her bed, and Lola’s smile grows sly and amused. Heather’s gaze flicks to the door handle, “lock that.”

“Yes, Princess,” Lola smirks, reaching over with her free hand, making quick work of locking the door.

“Do not,” Heather hisses at the pet name, and Lola pushes off the door, heading towards her, and offers her the bottle. Heather’s lips press into a thin line as the regards the drink she knows is completely illicit for a number of reasons, before taking it, and taking a drink - “fuck, how much of this have you had?”

In answer, Lola takes the bottle back and finishes it off.

“You’re a pig and a thief,” Heather tells her, but Lola’s smile is all teeth.

“And you kicked out someone - a boy, I’m guessing - for this thieving pig,” Lola reminds her, placing the empty bottle carefully on the nightstand of her luxurious double bed. Heather turns scarlet.

“I thought you’d at least wait until eleven to find me,” she deflects, defensive at the truth in Lola’s words, to which Lola herself actually laughs, flopping back onto the bed, arms spread, two fingers hooking into the back waistband of Heather’s flirty, short skirt.

“The fact that I’m here at all is a miracle, Princess -”

“Don’t.”

“And you know you could have told me to throw up in the garden,” Lola points out. A moment of silence follows, she tugs at Heather’s waistband, and Heather follows the unspoken prompt, leaning back onto the bed.

“Boys don’t know what they’re doing,” she says, staring up at the ceiling, arms folded but feet still planted firmly on the floor, and Lola’s eyes go wide, delighted, twisting onto her side to look at Heather’s blushing face.

“I knew you liked me,” Lola teases, grinning sharp.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Heather scoffs, angling her head back to level a glare at Lola, after a beat, she reaches back, fingers nimble and cold but her grip on Lola’s jaw secure. She frowns at Lola’s lips, rubbing her thumb none too gently over the bottom lip, taking off the black lipstick painted there, staining her own thumb in the process.

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” Heather prompts, frustrated, tone icy. Lola raises her eyebrows at the blonde's impatience.

“As you command, your highness,” Lola pushes herself up on her elbows, and off the bed, smirking in the face of Heather’s annoyance, before she scrubs at her mouth with the back of her hand, getting rid of the rest of her lipstick.

“I’ll be quick so you can get back to your boytoy,” Lola smirks up at Heather, kneeling between her knees, and in the next moment Heather’s legs clamp painfully tight around her head, bony knees pressing into her temples.

“If you tell fucking anyone I did anything other than get you water while you threw up in my bathroom, I will ruin your fucking life,” she spits, and Lola’s expression contorts into one of furious annoyance as she wrenches her head free, sitting back on her heels.

“As if I’d tell anyone; if you tell anyone, I’ll burn your fucking house down, do not test me on that,” she warns in return, before Heather relaxes and lays back, eyes back on the ceiling, waiting, “fucking pillow princess, I wish you’d get me a glass of water once in a while,” Lola muttered, leaning back in.

“Hey!” Heather objects, looking down, only to see the barely concealed fury smouldering in Lola’s eyes as she looks at Heather through her lashes. Lola orders her to shut up, presses a pointed kiss to her inner thigh, and Heather obeys without any more fuss.

All it took, in the beginning, was for Lola to confront Heather and ask why the fuck she couldn’t keep her eyes to herself during class, fully expecting a fight. It was after school, Lola had followed her into the bathroom after class as the school was emptying. Heather’s lip had curled, derisive, giving Lola a look like she was a bug beneath her shoe.

“You see something you fucking like?” Lola had snarled, ready to square up, chest puffed out, and Heather had rolled her eyes, scoffing about how Lola wasn’t even close to her type, before she’d realised what she’d said.

Neither had known how to proceed in that moment, both terrified of how the other would react, Lola could see the sudden fear in Heather’s eyes at the admission. Very deliberately, Lola had relaxed her posture, looking Heather over with a new appreciation, and Heather had flushed under her gaze.

“I didn’t know it was like that,” Lola had smirked, gaze locking onto Heather’s. The blonde was embarrassed, furious at herself, “well if I ever become your type -” those seven words had changed everything. Immediately, Heather knew exactly what Lola had meant, that she wasn’t a threat in the way she’d feared, and that Lola was like her, in some way, in a way that was safe.

“You’re -?” Heather raised a single, perfect eyebrow at her.

“I don’t advertise it,” Lola said, voice flat, hands in her pockets and shoulders carefully relaxed, “don’t know, you know, who else is... like me.”

“Like you?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it here,” Lola had muttered, gaze flicking to the empty stalls, and Heather had given her a long, evaluative look, before stepping forward, apparently finding something she likes.

Heather’s kind of pinning over a straight girl and none of the rest of the school has any idea she likes anything other than boys, and she’d like to keep it that way. No-one really cares about Lola the way they do about Heather, so they feel safe fooling around together at Heather’s under the guise of ‘studying’; they don’t really even like each other as people, it’s more mutually beneficial than anything else, but it’s kind of nice to have this understanding between them, free to be themselves without fear, even if it’s only for short amounts of time.

Now, at the party, when Lola goes to leave the room after all is said and done, hair checked in the mirror, lipstick reapplied neatly, Heather grabs her arm, quiet but no longer irritate in Lola’s presence, and Lola’s eyes go wide with question, but she too is silent. Heather steels herself, steps up to Lola, and then she’s got her fingers carding through Lola’s hair, and holding tight, and Lola lets herself be maneuverer, her head tipping and Heather’s lips on her neck.

When Heather steps back, there’s the beginning of a hickey blooming on the juncture where Lola’s shoulder meets her throat, aching faintly, pleasantly, and her hands are soft on Heather’s hips, lips twitching into a smirk.

“You could have just said thank you,” Lola snorted, and Heather’s frowning, but it doesn’t seem to be specifically at Lola; she rolls her eyes. Lola presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth, quick and chaste, and scrubs at the mark she leaves behind before Heather slaps her hand away and tells her to get out, though there’s no anger behind it.

When Lola opens the door, she puts on a show of being a little more unsteady than she really was, and is surprised to see Nikki leaning against the wall a few feet away, chatting to Tommy, looking so carefully casual. Lola’s pretty sure she hears Nikki sigh something about needing to find a guitarist, but that’s the moment Tommy spots Lola. He tries to apologise for his friends, but Lola shrugs, letting the incident go easily.

And then Nikki’s eyes flick to hers, and he asks if she’s okay, and Tommy seems confused but Lola’s hit with a realization. She pulls back her act and tries not to smile too wide.

“I’m fine now, great actually, it’s sweet of you to care,” its absolutely and completely innocent, but she raises an eyebrow at him, as if asking how he knows that she was unwell. In lieu of response, Nikki stands to his full height, walks to the door, and knocks. Lola and Tommy watch, the former far more confused than the latter.

Heather opens the door wide, not a hair out of place, makeup immaculate and untouched, and tells Nikki to fuck off, swanning past him and down to the rest of her party. Nikki turns on Lola.

“You couldn’t have thrown your guts up in a bush somewhere?” Nikki hissed, frustrated, and Lola does a great job at biting back her laughter, shaking her head and shrugging helplessly.

“We’re you waiting out here that whole time?” Lola asks, and Nikki turns amusingly pink, stalking past her to the stairs, to which both Lola and Tommy followed, with Lola calling out a half-hearted apology, and Nikki telling her to shove it up her ass.

gandhi said 'be the change you want to see in the world.' fuck that. be the trouble you want to see in the world.

“Don’t tell me you’re still mad about last night,” the morning after the party, or was it afternoon - midday after Heather’s party - Lola’s tying her red bandana around her head, hip leaning against the counter out the back by the fryer where Nikki was scowling at an order of fries that was bubbling away.

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, Lola,” Nikki snaps back, looking up at her, still frowning, and Lola’s smile widens, just a little. Nikki sighs, relenting, his voice dropping low, “I’m hungover as fuck, just piss off, can you?” But it doesn’t sound half as cruel as the words themselves imply, and Lola dips to press her cheek to his shoulder in a moment of affectionate familiarity before heading out to start serving customers.

It’s almost one when Charlotte and that English kid, Razzle, walk in, with the tall, pretty ginger, Eileen, sans their usual extras, but they take their spot at their usual booth by the window, talking quietly but animatedly.

“- the nerve on him! Hi, Lola,” Eileen’s practically vibrating with pent up, frustrated energy, greeting Lola with what Eileen probably assumed was a smile, but was still definitely a scowl.

“Everything alright here?” Lola asked, forcing her voice even brighter than she’d usually attempt, and Eileen’s gaze dropped to the menu, going quiet, brooding, while Charlotte sat up a little straighter and smiled, clearly not on such an intense wavelength as her friend.

“Everything’s just great; plotting Vince’s murder, kind of starving, the usual,” she shrugs, and Razzle, by her side, snorts a laugh.

“Good to see you survived the night, Honky Cat,” he adds in lieu of a greeting of his own, and Lola takes a moment to process all the information she’d just been exposed to.

“’course I did, I drank my weight in water between shots,” Lola smirks at Razzle, before her gaze slides to Charlotte, “and that’s very fair; I’d ask what he’s done now, but I think I’ll take care of your order first,” she grins amicably and pulls out her notepad and pen, as the three of them order their usual drinks and lunch preferences.

Lola heads back to the counter, calling out the order to the kitchen, taking another few order to their various destinations, before getting her friends’ drinks together to take them over.

“- home and didn’t even call, Razz, she didn’t even -” Eileen was still ranting by the time Lola deposits their drinks before them. Lola’s pretty sure she saw Razzle and Charlotte deliberately knocking knees beneath the table, but doesn’t think about it too hard. Nor does she dwell on the memory of seeing them at the party last night, of a gaggle of cheerleaders around talking to Razzle, though he just kept trying to talk to Charlotte. Later, she’d definitely seen them on the sofas, talking with Tommy and some of Charlotte’s other friends, leaning in to each other, Razzle’s arm around her shoulders, playing with the whispy ends of her hair. Lola hadn’t thought much of it at the time; she’d made out with Tommy at her first house party in the area, it hadn’t developed past friendship.

It was cute, if it was anything.

“Lola, you were there!” Eileen turned very suddenly, the moment her cup had been placed in front of her, and Lola’s eyebrows shot up, “did you see my sister last night?”

It feels like a trap, because yes, Lola definitely did, but also -

“Yes, why?” Lola asks, slowly, cocking a hip.

“They’re in the middle of a blue,” Razzle said, with a fond smile at Eileen’s carefully neutral expression, while she stirred her drink with intent.

“A fight,” Charlotte translated, “and Peach went to Heather’s last night, and got kind of shitfaced, and Vince took care of her, was really quite sweet, but she stayed with him because his place was closer and Peach refused to call Eileen.”

“She stayed with Vince?” Lola said carefully, trying not to imply she was jumping to conclusions, but Eileen’s stirring ceased in favour of vigorous drinking of the drink, obviously stuck on a similar train of thought.

“She slept on the couch,” Razzle filled in quickly, “was still there when I left, tucked in with a blanket, all above board.”

“And you didn’t know where she was -?” Lola frowns, confused.

“Vince called at three in the morning,” Eileen glowered out the window, voice low and even, “dad was mad until he was grateful; the man’s backbone is made of marshmallow fluff. She was meant to be home at one.”

“But she’s okay?”

“It’s the principle of the thing, Lola,” Eileen had said, giving Lola a look far older and longsuffering than her seventeen years.

“If we brought in Vince’s heart, would your dad batter it up and fry it for Eileen to eat?” Charlotte asked, tone teasing and light, to which Eileen rolled her eyes, but at least it got her to smile, even a little. Even when Lola snorted a laugh and told her ‘absolutely not’.

Later, on their break, Lola and Nikki sit on the roof of the building and share a serve of chips that he’d overcooked, and a cigarette, and Lola asks about Vince. Turns out Nikki doesn’t know much; he hadn’t grown up with the rest of them, had moved to the neighbourhood near the start of high school, and all he really knows is that girls apparently think Vince’s dick developed some sort of Midas touch over Summer.

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s always been stupid pretty,” Nikki shoves a chip in his mouth before leaning back on his elbows, “far as I know, but you’ve seen his car, right? That fuck-off, expensive red one that sits in the teacher’s carpark, with the massive scratch in the paint along the left? Yeah that’s his; got it for his birthday last year and he’s been getting tail like nobody’s business ever since.” And Lola tries to process all this information before he’s barrelling right on ahead with, “speaking of; if you’re gonna nail Tommy, can you do it soon and put the poor kid out of his misery?”

“Excuse me?!” Lola had choked on her lungful of smoke, turning red at the suggestion.

“Yeah, poor kid was pretty convinced we were a thing and didn’t want to make a move; kinda stupid, but I dunno, admirable? Noble?” Nikki groaned through his words, laying back against the gravel of the roof, hand out for the cigarette. Lola passed it to him, glad he couldn’t see her vaguely guilty expression, knowing she’d slept with the girl he’d been hitting on the night before.

“Tommy has a thing for anything halfway pretty that’s not related to him, he’d be just as happy to boink any other girl,” Lola points out, and Nikki snorts a laugh in mild agreement, “and the only reason we’re not fucking is because you’re afraid my dad’s gonna rip of your arms like he’s the fucking Wampa from Star Wars.” She punctuates it by eating the last chip, laying out beside Nikki on the gravel, checking her watch. Five minutes before their break ends.

“Leo wouldn’t rip off my arms- I don’t think Leo would rip off my arms!” Nikki counters defensively, but that just has Lola laughing as she corrects -

“Sorry, no, your exact wording was ‘I don’t want your dad to Kali Ma my fucking heart like I’m that little bastard from Indiana Jones’,” Lola does an absolutely atrocious impersonation of Nikki, who’s laughing despite himself, “which you only took back because I told you he wasn’t Indian, and even if he was, it’s kind of a fucked thing to say,” Lola tells him pointedly, shifting onto her side, propping her head up on her hand as she smirked at Nikki.

When Nikki looks at her, green eyes shining in the overcast, afternoon light, there’s something unreadable, teasing and soft all at once, like he’s entertaining an idea he’d considered unthinkable.

“I don’t think I could look Leo in the eye if I banged his daughter,” Nikki’s voice is soft and low, though he’s grinning wide, tone coy, eyes creasing in the corners, and Lola’s gaze flicks to his lips.

“For Leo’s sake, then,” Lola matches his tone, corner of her mouth twitching into a sharp smirk when she finally looks back to his eyes, “and Tommy’s too,” she teases, pushing herself into a sitting position; she can hear it when he presses his head further into the gravel in exasperation, swearing under his breath. When Lola stands and smiles, the picture of innocence, she offers Nikki her hand to help him up; Nikki rolls his eyes, but is still smiling when he accepts.

“Your hair looks dorky like that,” Lola teases as she climbs down the fire escape.

“I know,” Nikki sighs, “but its better than getting hair in everyone’s food; I’m not gonna be the reason your dad fails a health inspection,” Nikki adds, a strange hint of protectiveness in his voice that warms Lola’s heart in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

“Don’t worry, Leo’s never failed a health inspection, he doesn’t intend to start any time soon.”

love is a dream someone else had last night.

Eileen and Razzle see fit to join their ragtag bunch of misfits at lunch the following Monday by the open gate and the science carpark, which Lola had been informed was the teachers’ carpark.

Lola doesn’t care who sits with them, except for the fact that she’d taken the leftover lemon merengue tart from the diner since it was being replaced with an apple crumble, and there was only enough for four. For the past week, Eileen’s been alternating sitting with them and sitting elsewhere, but she hadn’t been here last Monday, so Lola had assumed - anyways, now she’s worried she looks like a bitch, and not for an actual reasonable reason.

“What do you mean you almost got with Heather on Friday?!” Charlotte’s voice was somewhere between a horrified and disbelieving squeak where she was picking at the crust of the piece of tart she was sharing with Eileen. The lemon merengue debacle turned out to not be much of an issue, with Charlotte and Eileen sharing, and Tommy and Lola sharing too. Lola was incredibly focused on picking at a scab through the hole in the knee of her jeans.

“I mean I had my hand in her fucking panties when someone -” Nikki cast a very pointed look to Lola, “knocked on the door threatening to throw up, and I got shoved out a window,” Nikki played up being irritated, despite the fact that he was laying out on his side directly behind Lola, while she was leaning into him.

“You’re my hero,” Eileen told Lola, serious as ever, while Charlotte cackled with delight, and Razzle snickered from where he was touching up the left hand of Tommy’s sharpie-nails.

“You guys are a bunch of assholes,” Nikki huffed, shoving the remained or his own piece of tart into his mouth.

“I brought you food, show some fuckin’ respect,” Lola smirked despite herself, gently elbowing him in the ribs; he flicks her knee in retaliation.

“Absolutely not; you’re a cockblocking traitor and the worst friend I’ve got,” Nikki announced, nose in the air, and Lola leans all her weight back suddenly, tipping Nikki onto his back and laying heavy across his stomach as she demanded he take it back, the two of them getting into a petty squabbling match, shoving at each other while the others could only look on in exasperated amusement.

“I thought Heather had a boyfriend,” Eileen pipes up, to which Charlotte makes a a gentle ‘eh’ noise in the back of her throat.

“She’s getting laid,” Charlotte corrects with half a smirk, and everyone who was paying half attention understand easily. Tommy sighs, but it’s not nearly as dejected as he’s known for whenever the topic of girls he fancies being with other people comes up.

“Whatever, I got to second base with Pam that night, and no-one can take that away from me,” Tommy announces, watching Razzle finish off his pinkie.

“Good for you, man,” Razzle says, with his trademark sincerity. Eileen and Charlotte still can’t believe it happened, but unfortunately both Razzle and Vince had seen with their own two eyes and been able to confirm; Vince may be biased, but Charlotte trusted Razzle.

“Everyone got some fuckin’ action that night except for me,” Nikki whines, finally shoving himself off, “and the fuckin’ Vomit Comet over here,” he jerked his thumb to where Lola was righting herself; Lola flips him off in response.

“I didn’t,” Eileen points out.

“You weren’t there,” Nikki rolls his eyes, “you don’t count.”

Meanwhile Razzle and Charlotte had both gone very quiet, and very pink. However Lola, who had no patience for people trying to hide their somewhere-between-pining-and-sincere feelings from each other and from other people, instead turns her attention to Eileen as she’s sweeping her hair out of her face.

“Have things gotten any better with Peach?” She tried, tone hopeful, and Eileen’s expression barely changed, just the barest crease of a frown upon her forehead, though judging by the way Charlotte’s whole expression soured, things had not, in fact, gotten better.

“Came back on Saturday afternoon all sunny and smiley and mom was thrilled,” Eileen’s deadpan irritation really sold her exasperation at the whole situation, “that she was friends with Vince again, and she hasn’t said a word to me yet.” Eileen takes a deep breath, straightening up from where she’d been slouched without realizing, taking a deep breath, nose in the air as if rising above it all, “which is fine with me, because I have a ton of dialogue to learn and they want us off-book in a month.”

This only sets them off fondly teasing the ever-unflappable Eileen, for her seemingly out of character choice to join the school’s musical, though they were all very proud of the fact that she scored the lead, even Nikki had voiced that he thought it was pretty cool.

When Lola had asked about it, Eileen had made mention that it filled in a lot of free time, that it was something she could add to college applications, and that a friend had convinced her to do it; Keanu -

“I keep hearing that name around,” Lola muses, leaning back in her seat while they were waiting for their French teacher to arrive. Eileen raises her eyebrows, “is that the pretty, dark haired Senior?” Eileen, surprisingly, had flushed scarlet when nodding. Lola hummed thoughtfully, leaning back further until the front legs of her chair lifted from the ground; she hooked her feet around the legs of her desk as she contemplated.

“It’s a musical right?” Lola asked, and Eileen hummed in confirmation, “if you can sing, you know Nikki and Tommy are -”

“I’d rather eat an entire microphone,” Eileen responds flatly, already knowing what Lola was about to suggest before she’d even finished her sentence, and Lola really tries not to laugh, but she knows Eileen well enough by now that that response makes entirely too much sense.

“You make a fair -” and that’s when Lola’s grip on the table slips, her feet sliding quickly up the legs of the desk as she topples backwards, the momentum pulling the desk up with her legs and directly on top of her, winding her. At least it made Eileen laugh, mostly from shock, sure, but Lola counts it as a win.

#motley crue #nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #the dirt #the dirt fanfiction #motley crue fanfiction #nikki sixx x oc #Razzle Dingley #lola&charlotte #charlotte & lola #the pack

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angrylizardjacket · 4 years

Text

Run to Paradise {Nikki Sixx} Part 25

25. you can rely on me (i will always let you down)

Summary: Razzle and Lola talk about Lola’s past. Lola gets drugged and not in the fun way. Nikki and Lola have a heart to heart.

Warnings: drugging (ketamine), swearing, homophobic slur (d)

ragtag bunch of misfits: @starlalove @toofasttofallinlove @xrosegoldwolfx @obsessivesky @trpwthme @lovehelpmewrite @angelicjoonie23 @marvelismylifffe @lilytalebi @glitterdreamsz @freddiessmallnipples @crazysaladchopshop @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies @dramatique-moi @missqueeniewrites @calspixie @aryssav @catsoo12 @sweetshutter @silvertonguedserpent @shamelessobsessions @lavenderbones22 @keepcalm-and-beyou @scarecrowmax @nicholeh7 @unknownoblivion @sighsophiia

{masterlist}

Lola's never bothered much with Hanoi Rocks, despite the fact that they'd been opening for Motley this past tour; she liked them well enough, though she was almost certain she could probably snap Razzle in half if she wanted to. She was also half-convinced he'd enjoy it.

But the point is, she doesn't fuck with Hanoi Rocks, or fuck Hanoi Rocks. Much. A little bit. Not enough to be noteworthy; Lola fucks everyone, it's not like one band, or a few members of one band, were anything to write home about.

And maybe she doesn't fuck with them because Vince is the one who spends a the most time with them, and Vince has Sharise now, and Tommy's been sort of clingy since everything happened with Roxie, not that Lola was complaining. She'd never complain; she's exactly where she wants to be, because when she's not wrapped up in Tommy, she's got Nikki with her. Nikki himself is not used to her having another favourite so openly, so honestly, he's not used to feeling like second best. They're all unhealthy, quietly obsessed with each other, and almost toxically insular.

Razzle's learned not to ask, he just enjoys Lola's company when he gets it; she pretends not to play favourites with her boys, but is under no such illusion regarding other bands. Despite this, he thinks she's rather funny, surprisingly hard working, and charming when she wants to be. It's easy to see how she'd endeared herself to all of them.

"How'd you get your start with them?" Razzle asks, smile bright and genuinely curious, sitting on the edge of the stage, watching Lola set up with the rest of the roadies. She's on her stomach, reaching under the drum risers for a lead that's almost out of reach, and pauses, turning to face the Drummer. Expression amused, she rested her chin on the stage and hummed for a moment.

"Forgot people don't know that anymore," she mused.

"Anymore?"

She pauses before turning her head back to the drum risers. Swiftly, she pulls the cord through and connects it to the one in her other hand before shoving back under. Razzle still watches, fascinated a little by her diligence; his first impressions of her had been so off base.

"So before I was 'Motley Crue's sort-of-manager-and-girlfriend'" she stood, making her way over to him, and he tried out some excuse, tried to play it off like that wasn't his immediate reaction to her, to the gossip that had been surrounding her. Instead of being irritated or angry, she smiled; "I had made quite a name for myself in LA - both for reputable reasons and... not so reputable reasons." Sitting beside him, she leaned back on her hands, looking at him. "You know The Skyhooks, right?"

"Of course, love, whadd'ya take me for?" He snorted, and Lola's smile turned a little proud.

"You know Bondage on the Boulevarde?" She asked. Razzle nodded, and Lola just pointed to herself. After a beat, Razzle almost launched himself off the front of the stage he was laughing so hard.

"You're joking, you're bloody well joking!" Amusement sparkled in his eyes, and Lola shook her head, mirroring his smile with one of her own.

"Nope; they make a note of me looking for rope because I refused to be tied up with a microphone cord." She explained, half laughing, and Razzle raised his eyebrows at her. "I was a roadie before I was anything else."

"You roadied for the Skyhooks back in -?" and he tried to calculate, but Lola beat him to it.

"Well actually, I followed them after their gig at the Starwood back in 'seventy-seven, I think? I had actually been working for another band that night," she shifted a little, gaze drifting up as she tried to recall the memory, "I was fully intending to rob them blind - band stuff was expensive and it was easier for me to get that shit, uh, "for cheap" than it was Nikki," she explained, but shrugged, "but I got caught and they were fucked up and they thought I was just another friskey groupie; what was I gonna do, correct them?"

"A roadie and a thief, Miss Gone -"

"Hey!" Lola protests, faux offended, before breaking out into a cheeky smile, "Roadie, thief, and whore; I'm a triple threat, Mister Dingley." She pokes at his chest, before smiling out at the empty audience, sitting on her hands.

"Threat's definitely the word for it," Razzle snickered, giving her bicep a quick squeeze, though there was nothing malicious in his tone. After a moment, he pets the inked on hair of her mermaid tattoo in a fond gesture that he's not sure she'd even noticed. "So you've known them a while? Roadied for them all this time?"

"Only started helping manage them because they wouldn't let Doc fire me."

"Loyal lads, though that almost goes without saying; how long have you all known each other?"

And he's watching her as she thinks, turns the question over in her mind, broken only by Nikki's shout -

"Lo!"

"Niks, how long have we known each other?" She counters with, laying back on the stage, looking over at him. Nikki thinks for a moment.

"How old were you when we met?"

"I don't have to answer that."

"And how old are you now?"

"Rude," Lola plays at being offended, sticking her nose up and pouting, raising her voice an octave to play up the ridiculousness of the situation; "didn't your mother ever teach you to never ask a lady-"

"She didn't, and you're barely a lady, Lo." Nikki snorts, but he's approaching them with a fond familiarity that Razzle doesn't seem him with around anyone else. He's already in costume, in his full platform boots, but his hair and face is untouched; it's probably why he'd been looking for her. There's a bottle of booze in his hand.

As he approaches, Lola seems to relax, grinning and almost giggling.

"Gimme some," she points at the bottle, and Nikki raises his eyebrows at her. Standing over her, he opens the bottle without breaking eye contact, and takes a mouthful. Razzle is frowning with confusion. "Do not spit it into my mouth like I'm a baby bird." Lola tells the bassist flatly, and Nikki raises his eyebrows at her, before he shrugs, opens his mouth, and lets the alcohol spill on Lola despite her protests; she doesn't sit up fast enough, and is covered with it, spluttering and wet and smelling like bourbon.

"Help me with my hair," Nikki tells her flatly after deliberately spitting the last little bit at her, wearing a grin that's all teeth, hearing Razzle's raucous laughter, and seeing Lola clamber to her feet.

"I'm gonna kill you so much, you rotten fucking cockroach bastard!" She hollers, chasing Nikki off the stage, though her hair's soaked up most of the bourbon. Nikki looks smug when he leaves his dressing room for the final sound check later on, and from what Razzle can see, Lola's strung out, laughing and stumbling as she's being pulled by Doc out of Nikki's room.

She may be a wildcard, but there's no-one else who can pull the band in line like she can.

From observations, it seems like; on his own, Tommy is the hardest to reign in, with Nikki being a close second, and when they're together, well The Terror Twins work hard for their nickname, and Doc alone stands no chance in Hell, and sometimes trying to get them to cooperate gets physical. Vince is more docile, but only in comparison, and Mick will do anything Doc or Lola tells him, as long as it gives him the moral high ground, any sense of superiority, or a nap.

Lola's the wild card in this situation; if she's being egged on by Nikki or Tommy, she'd walk barefoot through coals and then kick Doc for fun, if she's being egged on by both Nikki and Tommy, it inevitably ends up devious and sexual. If she's trying to get them to be responsible, well Tommy practically melts under her touch, he's not hard won, and Nikki won't admit it, but he's willing to concede on certain matters of business. Ahem. "Business".

But the point is, in the right mood, Lola says jump, Motley Crue asks how high?

And isn't that a sight to behold.

The only thing Lola loves even half as much as her boys is drugs, which she confined in Razzle while rolling up a hundred dollar bill, a mirror with lines of coke already cut, balancing on her knees. He's got an arm thrown over the back of the sofa, with Vince flirting loudly with a groupie on his other side. The others had left the dingy house party about half an hour in, but Vince had caught Lola's hand, asked her to stay in a soft, almost pleading voice, and she caved almost immediately.

As much as Lola was able to manipulate the band, it went both ways.

"Huh?" Razzle asked, pleasantly drunk and a little high, Lola looks up, eyes wide, pupils dilated.

"Nothing burns the bad shit away like coke," she says, surprisingly serious, and Razzle raises his eyebrows at her, watches her blink, "or acid, molly, I'm not a fan of weed, uh," she pauses, leaning forward, and inhaling two lines of coke in rapid succession. Watching with quiet amusement, when she lift her head, Razzle gently takes the mirror from her grip, and snorts the remaining line.

And she says she's fine. He looks at her smile and he can believe it. But when a woman she doesn't know offers her 'something better' for burning the bad shit away, she takes his hand, a hungry look in her eyes, and Razzle can't even begin to imagine what terrible shit she'd still be able to remember after all her years of partying.

Lola's led to the bathroom, asked to take off her jacket and sit on the edge of the tub, and she's more than willing to comply, watching but not quite comprehending as the woman fills a syringe with something from a little, medical bottle.

"You're not sticking shit in me," the words tumble from her lips, and part of her fights not to laugh, because that might be the first time she's ever said those words to anyone, "I don't inject shit-"

"I promise, I promise," she's slurring her words, swaying a little, which did not inspire confidence, "baby girl, you're gonna love it; burnin' shit away? K has got you covered." She assured, tapping the syringe and squirting out the bubble.

"I don't inject-"

"It's not as scary as it look, just makes you feel like you're floating," the woman smiles, gaze unfocused, her red lipstick smeared, and Lola can feel the coke hitting her while her awareness is trying to sharpen. "What's got you so worried -?"

"Shooting up is a slippery fucking slope," Lola's jaw is set in a tight line, her mind flashing to bleary memory of Nikki and Tommy freaking out, finding Vince on the bathroom floor with a needle in his arm.

"Oh yeah," the girl snorted, stepping into Lola's space, "Ketamine's a slippery slope alright." She rolled her eyes, tone nothing but sarcastic as she reached out with shaking hands to wipe white, powdery residue off her nose. "Listen, if you don't want any, tell me right now, just say 'I don't want any'," her fingers moves from Lola's cheek to gently graze down her arm, pausing to press against the soft skin of her inner arm, near her elbow. Goosebumps began to rise on Lola's arm.

"Why are you just offering me this shit?" Lola asked, voice surprisingly hesitant and raspy.

"Because you walked into my house with Vince fucking Neil," the girl answered with a smile, "that alone made me think you were someone I could actually party with."

Swallowing hard, Lola averted her gaze, taking the needle from the woman.

"Your hands are shaking," Lola tells her, and the woman laughs.

"So are yours?"

"All of me is always shaking; my vibrations match up," Lola mused, looking at her inner arm while the girl hummed in amusement, "all of it?"

"If you're up for it."

Lola hesitates, arm out, pulse beating quickly in her ears. The needle hesitates over her skin before she steels her resolve and breaks her skin. She can feel the cool liquid as it enters her bloodstream, which is disconcerting enough, but when she's finished injecting, she takes out the needle, hands it back, and closes her eyes tightly, the heel of her hand applying pressure to the injection site as she breathes deeply.

"Aw, baby's first shot." The woman coos, and okay, it comes across a little mean, but Lola's kind of into it. It kind of reminds her of Nikki, who would flip his fucking lid if he knew what she was doing. He had been the one to figure out that Vince was injecting coke, and the one who'd reacted strongest to the proof.

"Shut up," Lola growled, looking up to see the woman smirking at her. Lola stands abruptly, steps into the woman's space, and kisses her hard.

And the woman slaps her.

It's not that Lola's never been slapped before, it's just that the past thirty seconds have been somewhat of a rollercoaster, and the last thing she'd expected from the woman who'd pressured her into Ketamine and given her gentle touches, was a look of disgust.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" The woman hisses.

"So you weren't flirting with me -?" Lola asks, but her heart's beating fast enough that the drugs are already flooding her system; having already come into this being pretty drunk and high, she's in no shape to fight. The dose the woman had given her was definitely more than a first time user should have taken.

"I was trying to get you fucked up on K so I could fuck Vince Neil and that English dude without you getting in the way!" The girl spits, and Lola's body doesn't know how to respond. This is a new situation to her, completely foreign.

"He's got a -" Lola's voice is weak, the world is turning blurry at the edges of her vision, "he's got a fiance." Lola tries. "Baby." She adds.

"So? She's not here, is she?" The woman sneers, arms crossed. "Now get the fuck out of my house." And she calls Lola a word that has Lola's blood boiling; she might not be at peak fighting condition, but she still doesn't pull her punches. The woman's face hits the mirror, which shatters, and Lola quick to stumble from the room.

"We gotta, we gotta go," Lola trips over the corner of the sofa, falling into Razzle, "please, Raz, we gotta, Vince, please -"

"Lo, are you okay?" Vince asks, and Lola's shaking, feels sick to her stomach. She scrambles from Razzle's lap into Vince's, taking his face in her hands.

"Vinny please, Lover Boy, please, anywhere but here, anywhere but here."

"What are you on, baby?" Vince asks, gentle, much more gentle than Razzle had expected.

"Shot up some K, and then- fuck- knocked out the host -"

"You knocked out the host?" Vince laughed quietly, though he was helping Lola to her feet already. After a beat, however, his expression turned concerned, "you- you're joking, right Lo? You didn't - fuck, you know how the band got when they -"

"When they found you shooting up coke, I know," Lola was panicking, genuinely panicking, which Vince was pretty sure he'd never seen before, "Nikki's gonna be so fucking disappointed in me, fuck." And in that moment, it all made sense.

Vince and Razzle accompany Lola back to the hotel they'd been staying at, before the two of them headed back out to find Nikki and Tommy; the night was still young after all.

When Nikki comes back, Lola's showered and is tucked up in bed, shivering and looking rather sickly, a glass of water on her bedside table. It's a surprisingly sweet sight, and her eyes shine in the light of the hall, letting him know she's still awake. Nikki's humming something, but doesn't say anything; Vince hadn't outed her completely, just said she'd had a bad trip. When he crawls into bed after stripping off his leathers, smelling like booze and sweat, Lola buries little further into the duvet.

"I don't think I'm gonna fuck groupies anymore." She says, barely loud enough for him to hear, but he does anyway, and grins up at the ceiling, his eyes closed.

"All mine," he says easily, though if he was any more sober, Lola's pretty sure he wouldn't have dared to say it out loud.

"And Tommy's." Lola corrects, and if Nikki were any more sober, she wouldn't have said it either.

"And Tommy's." Nikki nods, sagely, though he doesn't even sound a little jealous. The silence that hangs in the air is almost stifling Lola, nervous energy pooling in her stomach, tears welling in her eyes. She feels like she's going to be sick. Again.

"Nikki, I fucked up."

"'d you fuck Razz?" Nikki asks with a half laugh, and Lola cleared her throat. "You know that's not - I don't care who you fuck, Lols, I'm over that -"

"I shot up ketamine and then knocked out the girl who gave it to me 'cos she called me a bulldyke." Lola blurted, choking on her fears in the silence.

"What was it like?" Nikki asked, finally. Lola swallowed hard. "K, what was it like?"

"I was already fucked up, it just made me all slow and sick and blurry."

"You alright now?"

"No."

He's never seen her scared of being high before.

"It's like you always fuckin' said, alright, injecting shit is a slippery slope." There's a tremble in Lola's voice, and Nikki moves on instinct, shuffling over, throwing the blankets off of them and wrapping her up in his arms. Lola hugs him back, shivering and sniffling. "I'm sorry."

"Fuck, man, don't apologise to me," Nikki huffs, rubbing her back, his lips pressing a kiss to the top of her forehead. "You're an adult, you don't need to apologise to anyone."

"I just feel so fucking stupid, I'd do just about anything for a decent lay, God, I really just think with my cunt, don't I?" Lola grumbled, burying her face against Nikki's chest. Nikki just holds her a little tighter. "Niks, she drugged me, gave me a huge dose so she could sleep with Vince and I wouldn't get in the way." Lola admits, voice barely a whisper. "She used me."

"She could have killed you." Nikki's voice is suddenly rough, angry.

"I got them out of there, got Vince and Razz out before it hit too hard, but-"

"Lo, she could have killed you, you should have gone to fucking hospital."

Lola is silent at that, heart in her throat and tears in her eyes. Nikki's fingers map the familiar geography of her back, of the scarring there that never seems to get any better, despite all the years he's known her.

"I love you."

"I know, Nikki, I lo-"

"Lo, I can't let you fucking die without having you hear this; I don't care if you're in love with Tommy or whatever, if there's anyone I'm be happy to share you with, it's T-Bone, but I need you to know I've loved you since I met you, alright? Since you were sixteen and you trusted me enough to go out on the town with me, fuck, I can't believe you trusted me - I can't believe you still trust me," he paused, "but I'm so fucking glad you do. After all the shit we've been through, the fact that you still love me in any capacity, that's a damn miracle, you know?"

Lola's crying now, quietly, where she's curled up against Nikki, still feeling nauseous and blurry and shakey, and everything that's happened in the past seven years manages to blow through her mind, overwhelming her in an instant.

"I ran away to LA with you, fucking hell, Nikki, of course I love you, of course I trust you, how can you not see that you've been my entire fucking world for years?" She asks, and she can't look up, can't look him in the eyes, her hands flat on his back, her nails digging into his skin ever so slightly. "I'd follow you to Hell."

Nikki's gentle when he brings Lola's face up to look at him, and there's tear track on her cheeks, while her eyes are red and a little glassy.

"The world still a little blurry?" He asks with a half smile, and a Lola swallows hard.

"The only thing that's making sense is you." And it's cheesy, but it makes Nikki's heart beat just a little faster. He kisses Lola hard, pulling her flush against him, his hands in her hair and on her hip.

They don't fuck, Lola's still fragile from almost overdosing, but Nikki doesn't let her go. They fall asleep like that, wrapped up in one another, coming down from their respective highs, and when Nikki wakes with Lola in his arms, and realises that it hadn't been a dream, something in his chest eases.

#nikki sixx #nikki sixx imagine #vince neil #vince neil imagine #tommy lee #tommy lee imagine #nikki sixx x oc #vince neil x oc #razzle dingley #the dirt #motley crue #motley crue imagine #the dirt imagine #the angry lizard writes #drug use tw

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