#And then he would wait a month before asking neil to pick a new band

[pieph0n]

Neil would like The Neighbourhood. Like if they were a thing, during/after the series (I think the band started in 2011..?) But Neil is so The Neighbourhood coded to me.

I just feel like he would listen to them for the beats and vibes, and everyone *else* would hear the lyrics and go "oh Neil :/" but he doesn't even listen to the words he's singing along to KSBFJSBFIDJFJF

I was driving and listening to them and they're so Neil!!! And then I realized that they wouldn't really canonically intersect???

But I just like to imagine that, if there was a world where The Neighbourhood and Neil Josten existed at the same time, he would be blasting that shit in the fancy car on road trips.

[singemall-stayallnight]

Led Zeppelin's UK Debut

Led Zeppelin, billed as the New Yardbirds, make their live debut (less than a month before their first show in the UK), Copenhagen, 7 September 1968. | © Jorgen Angel

The announcement of a Yardbirds gig at Newcastle’s Mayfair Ballroom on October 4, 1968 barely caused a ripple of interest in the North East, let alone elsewhere. After a string of Top 10 hits a few years earlier, their career was on a downward slide and they were perilously close to becoming yesterday’s men.

What the people of Tyneside didn’t know was that the band had actually split up a few months earlier. But rather than cancel a Scandinavian tour, guitarist Jimmy Page had taken the opportunity to relaunch the band with singer Robert Plant, drummer John Bonham, and noted session player John Paul Jones on bass and keyboards.

And so the few dozen people who turned up at the Mayfair for what was supposed to be the first date of The Yardbirds’ UK tour were in for a surprise. After sitting through support bands Downtown Faction, the Junco Partners and New York Public Library [the latter a late replacement for Terry Reid], the audience found themselves confronted with an unfamiliar group. Although they didn’t know it, they were witnessing the first British gig by the band that would become Led Zeppelin.

Jimmy Page: We originally thought that by calling ourselves the New Yardbirds we would be able to keep a sort of continuity from the early days of the old group.

Jimmy Page's interview with GO Magazine, 27 December 1968.

Brian Greenaway [Mayfair manager, 1966-71]: It all exploded in the 1960s. Friday night we’d often get 2,500 people in. It would be heaving. We had some really big names on, people like The Who.

Tez Stokes [guitarist, New York Public Library]: We’d met Jimmy Page years before, when he was in Neil Christian’s Crusaders. He was a very well-respected guitar player, but very quiet, reserved and shy. John Paul Jones I met when he was the bass player with the Tony Meehan Band. He stayed with us that night, because he had a meeting the next morning with [producer] Mickie Most.

Charlie Harcourt [guitarist, the Junco Partners]: Before the gig, either the band or their roadie asked if they could borrow our organ. They didn’t seem very well prepared. We told them no, they should have brought their own.

Bob Sargeant [keyboard player, the Junco Partners]: I don’t remember John Paul Jones playing keyboards that night. That’ll be the reason why. I must have been in the bar when they asked, because I’d have said yes.

Charlie Foskett [audience member]: Zeppelin weren’t playing when the stage came round, they were farting around. Jones was on the left side in front of a silver-fronted Fender Bassman amp. He hit a note and the cloth on the front of the amp wobbled, which I thought was cool. Page posed about with his Les Paul. They weren’t using monitors, all of that came later. The riser, which had the amps, waiting for someone to go: “One, two, three, four”. That came pretty quickly.

Bob Sargeant: They were good. Very indicative of what they’d become as Led Zeppelin. I can remember thinking: “Who’s that bloke singing?”.

Tez Stokes: Jimmy Page did an extended guitar solo sitting down. The sweat was pouring out of him. As a guitarist myself I was watching very closely, picking up tips. I was very impressed.

John Porteous [Tyneside record dealer]: My friend, the late John Gourley, was Newcastle’s top Yardbirds collector. He goes to the Mayfair that Friday night expecting to see the Keith Relf line-up. The band comes on, and he watches three or four numbers. He then goes to the front desk, says the band on stage aren’t The Yardbirds, demands his money back and leaves. Quite a few others did the same.

Fraser Suffield [promoter]: I didn’t receive any complaints from the Mayfair manager about people wanting their money back. When people were leaving I got no adverse comments about them not being the band they were expecting. After the gig I went backstage to pay the money to the band themselves. They didn’t have a manager with them.

Jimmy Page: We realised we were working under false pretences. The thing had quickly gone beyond where The Yardbirds left off. We all agreed there was no point in retaining the ‘New Yardbirds’ tag, so when we decided to change the band’s name. After several more gigs, Page renamed the band Led Zeppelin.

—Excerpts from "Led Zeppelin's first UK Show: Newcastle Mayfair, 1968"

[thinger-strang]

okay okay centerfold au (like....the song by the j geils band) where billy mas moved out and away from hawkins (he hasnt quite made it to california yet, hes not ready) and hes starting to let himself be gay and think gay thoughts and ya know indulge himself every so often

which obviously means he picks up a magazine from the back corner of the corner store he frequents

he does for something a little tamer, maybe throws in a few playboys just because hes nervous (which doesnt even matter because the cashier doesnt even spare the covers a glance once scanned)

gets home and eagerly flips through it, feeling excited that he can have gay porn out in the open in his living room without fearing for his life

hes mostly just idly looking through it, folding down a few corners of pages he'll revisit when hes in the mood, just kinda reveling in the freedom of it

until

he flips to the centerfold, the showcase, the main event and it's–

"steve?"

billy fucking drops the entire magazine, it lays open, teasing billy with those big brown eyes and tantalizing moles

its a good shot honestly, pretty tasteful, definitely not modest, but billy can appreciate the artful quality

of course not in this moment, in this moment billy is panicking?

who the hell told steve harrington he was allowed to do that?

billy finds himself staring at the photo; steve as the centerpiece, draped across several laps, being groped by way too many hands for billy's liking, steve's got a half hard cock in one hand, the other possessively wrapped around the thigh of a man standing next to him, everyone's sweaty and there's splatters of something all over everyone, and there's hard and soft dicks and muscular legs and soft bellies and flexing muscles but only one face

steve stares at the camera–at billy–with an enticing stare that seems to ask "what are you waiting for?" and the barest hint of a tongue pokes out–

billy cant look away but wants to tear his gaze away to anything else, he wants to memorize the page, he wants to burn it, he wants to frame it, he wishes it never existed, he wants to be in that room

billy thought he was over this silly crush on straight boy steve but heres he is, gripping another man's cock, letting another man's cock rest on his leg, letting other men hold him and touch him

it might be fine if billy hadn't seen steve in years, hadn't seen steve since he left that fucking hellhole behind but no, no!

steve harrington, the man who happened to be the centerfold of the one single gay magazine billy happened to pick up, was his upstairs neighbor

///

billy stares at the ground as he stops to get his mail, hoping, praying, that he'll be lucky and not run into anyone on his way home

prayers not answered

"hey billy, i haven't seen you in a while, you doin' okay?" steve asks cheerfully as he wiggles his own mailbox open.

"yup, doing just fine, thanks for asking" billy slams his box shut and hurries to the elevator without running and jabs the close door button a hundred million times

"woah hang on, hold the door!" steve calls after him, juggling his mail and his groceries that billy somehow didn't notice

steve makes it

fuck

steve's blabbering on about.... something, billy can't hear a word he's saying, he focusing on thinking about anything other than–

sweaty

magazine

dick

nude

moles

dick

dick

dick

billy is begging for any thought, anything, to cross his mind, anything but that stupid centerfold

"hey are you sure you're okay?" steve asks in a far too nice voice

"i told you i'm fine, please just leave me alone?" billy grits out

"i thought we were past all that" steve says in a sad voice

billy sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose

"we are, i'm just having an off day, got this killer headache ya know?" he lies through his teeth

"oh okay, gotcha, i'll be quiet" steve mimes zipping up his mouth

why is that worse why is that hot?

it's billy's floor and he can't get into his apartment fast enough

pulls out his dick and jerks it a few times before cumming right there in his kitchen floor

///

things don't get better

at all

billy avoids steve like the plague, which it wasn't like hung out on the regular, but theyd chit chat in the elevator or say hi when passing each other

so it was just awkward when billy would see steve in the hallway and immediately turn the other way

so it's not that surprising to wake up on a saturday morning to angry pounding on his door

"i'm coming, i'm coming, hold your fucking horses" billy grumbles as he pulls on a shirt and walks to the door

yanks it open to find a grumpy steve with his hands on his hips

"what gives hargrove? you said we were fine yet avoid me any time we so much as make eye contact? did i do something?"

billy has not had enough sleep to handle this conversation

"no you didn't do anything, it's kinda hard to explain just–" billy opens up his door to invite steve in

steve shoulders past billy and plops onto the couch

"coffee?" billy asks as he rubs his eyes

"im good" steve bites out

great

billy rolls his eyes and gets busy making himself a pot, trying to figure out how to say this, what to even say that would make this remotely okay

"oh my god" steve gasps

"what?" billy groans

he turns around and sees steve holding the magazine, clutching it really, something close to horror drawn all over his face

billy left it out on the coffee table as some sort of sick twisted 'fuck you' to neil

"shit shit SHIT i can explain–"

"no no i get it, um... i think i'm going to go, just... yeah i'm sorry i'll just–"

and with that steve was gone

///

this is worse, so so so very much worse

they either need to talk about it or billy needs to fucking find a new apartment

billy comes home after a long day at work to find steve knocking at his door

"hey–"

"jesus christ you scared me!" steve jumps into the wall

"sorry i kinda... snuck up on you, what are you doing at my door?" billy adjusts his backpack

"i, um... i wanted to explain? or talk? i get why you were avoiding me, i honestly forgot that came out this month" steve is twelve shades of the prettiest blush billy has ever seen

"hang on, let's go inside, i don't really wanna talk about this in the hallway"

steve's shoulders relax and he pressed himself into the wall to let billy open his door

steve sits awkwardly on the couch as billy hang up his bag and jacket and starts taking off his boots

"i... don't really know where to start" steve chews on his bottom lip and fidgits with his fingers

"i'm gay" billy blurts out

"what?" steve laughs

"i mean, i have a gay porn magazine, you're all nervous, i figured i'd break the ice?" billy shrugs

steve laughs and looks ten times lighter

"those pictures are older, i did them to help pay some bills while i was inbetween jobs, it was for a smaller thing, a blog or something, i dunno, it payed good so i said yes, i was desperate"

steve tuns his hands through his hair and breathes

"the guy who took the pictures asked if i'd be okay with him selling them to a bigger magazine, he said i'd get half the profits so i said yes"

steve shrugs and looks out the window

"so you just... did it for the money?" billy asks

"yes and no, i'm gay–well not gay, i'm bi but i'm... into dudes and all that, but mostly just to pay the bills"

steve finally meets billy's gaze with an almost scared look but more of a 'what are you gunna do about it' look

a lot like the one in the magazine

"that's cool, pretty brave too" billy says casually and leans back into his chair

"yeah... i'm kinda scared my job is going to find out that my dick is all over a magazine" steve laughs nervously

"you'll be fine, if it helps, you'd make a killing as a porno model"

billy grins wickedly in steve's direction

steve tries to smile back but it turns into a grimace

"i don't think it's weird, by the way... and while i don't think my crush on you from high school has quite gone away, i'm not going to like, make a move ot try to do anything" billy nudges steve's toe with his own

"okay" steve smiles for real this time

"okay" billy smiles back

"you really had a crush on me in high school?" steve smirks

"oh god, yeah, it was so bad, i didn't know what to do so i was just... an ass!" billy laughs

steve laughs along too and it's just comfortable, more comfortable than they've been ever

"do you wanna go get dinner?" steve smiles lopsidedly

"what!"

"like a date, do you want to go on a date with me?"

"it won't be weird?" billy asks earnestly

"not unless you make it weird"

billy grins and stands

"then let's go on a date!" he hold out his hand an hauls steve up

///

they're walking in comfortable silence, bumping into each other's shoulders, trying to make the other drop their left over box

they get to billy's door and kean against it, very much in each other's space

"you wanna know a secret?" steve asks with a mischievous glint in his eye

"sure"

"i had a crush on you in high school too" steve smiles and rests his forehead against billy's

"oh yeah!" billy leans into steve's touch, their noses bumping

"hell yeah" steve closes the distance and presses a soft kiss into billy's lips

[tuffduff]

Rock Stars Make Bad Boyfriends (Vince Neil x Reader x Slash)

Pairing: Vince Neil x Reader x Slash

Words: 3,170

Request: anon! : “hi again! i’ve got another idea for an imagine so i came right to your blog - hopes that’s okay! i had an idea where the reader kind of has an unofficial thing with Vince Neil but he’s stringing her along - flirting with other girls and such almost in front of the reader’s face - & she ends up meeting slash when gnr and the crue are on tour. slash immediately falls for her & she falls for him too but slash sees how Vince treats her. slash eventually asks her on a date & vince ends up hearing about it & confronting the reader about it. she tells him she really likes slash and she’s done with him and eventually slash and the reader end up dating much to vince’s dismay. thank you so much!”

A/N: Yes, love; that is more than okay!! I love that y’all come to me with these ideas! I love this prompt and I think about this Motley/GNR tour a lot...even if it was short. Turned into a short fic, but hopefully y’all don’t mind that. Hope you’re all doing well!

Taglist: @ubernoxa​ @the--blackdahlia​ @reigns420​ @stradlin-cold-heartbreaker​ @rumoured-whispers​ @dustnbones​

“Vince?” The blonde kept his head turned away from you as though you hadn’t spoken a word. You felt the scowl on your face deepen as he sent a wave towards the girl working the outdoor bar of the hotel resort pool area. “Vince, are you even listening to me?” This time, your tone must’ve been enough to get his attention as he turned back to you.

“Aw, I’m sorry, baby. What were you saying?” You pushed your tongue against the wall of your mouth trying to summon patience; it’s not like you just spent the better part of the last five minutes trying to tell Vince about your day.

“I was talking about what happened earlier in the gift shop. There was a little girl who didn’t have enough money to buy this key chain, and a little old man bought it for her.”

“Mmm.” Vince’s head had turned again the minute you started talking. You frowned.

“And then the shop blew up. It was a huge explosion.”

“Mmhm.”

“The little girl and old man died.”

“That’s nice. Hey, I’m gonna go get us some more drinks, alright, baby?” Vince stood from his lounge chair without waiting for your reply. “Be right back!”

You sighed a little as you watched him unsurprisingly saunter over to the girl at the bar who was practically licking her lips.

All your girlfriends called you crazy for agreeing to go on tour with a rock star. Well, no; that was misleading. They encouraged going on tour, but expecting serious commitment from a rock star? In your dreams, they said. Rock stars don’t make good boyfriends.

You met Vince only about a month prior, so you knew it was nothing quite serious, but was it wrong for you to hope? You liked Vince. That first night neither of you could stop talking until the early morning hours, his eyes sparkling and unmoving from yours, his hand on your knee. But he was a humongous flirt. You tried not to let it get to you—after all, here you were poolside at a swanky resort in a room you didn’t pay for, going to concerts you didn’t have to buy tickets for. Tradeoffs, you supposed. Even still, you couldn’t help but glance over and over again as Vince stayed longer and longer at the bar. You tried to work on your tan and stay undeterred as you planned your outfit in your head for the show later.

That night, Vince complimented you already three times on the way to the arena, but that was only after he heard Tommy telling you that you were looking “hot as fuck, dude.” You still counted it as a win. Then you scolded yourself; were relationships supposed to be about winning?

You also heard Nikki saying something about how their new opening band would be starting tonight, kicking off this leg of the tour. Guns N’ Roses—you had never heard of them, but the name sounded cool. They must have been good if they were opening for the Crue.

Despite his sweet talking and possessive touch all the way to the arena, Vince soon abandoned you once you actually got there. You brushed it off; you weren’t a child. He did have a show to get ready for—you tried not to notice how many groupies you were already seeing walk by, though. There were more interesting things to see anyways. At least, you were determined to find them.

That turned out, again, to be wishful thinking. You didn’t have complete access to every part of the arena, and really, you felt bad about being in the way of all the crew members. That led to you finding the door outside, to the back of the arena, where you hoped to just find a quiet place for a moment.

It took two tugs with all your strength to actually pull open the heavy doors, but instead of opening a gateway to the outside, another body toppled into you. You let out a startled yelp.

“Oh, thank fuck, man!” You heard a soft voice say in relief. There was so much hair in your face that you couldn’t see behind all the black unruly coils to untangle yourself from this mystery guy. “I went outside just to smoke and like, chill before the show, you know, but the doors fucking locked—” you both finally untangled and you found yourself face to face with, well, still a whole lotta hair.

He had on black leather pants and a denim jacket with black sleeves, along with cowboy boots. You couldn’t see his eyes behind his curls, but you were sure he was staring right at you.

“Woah, uh...” he murmured. His voice never changed from the soft murmur. “I thought you were security or something.” You chuckled and watched as he pushed his hair away from his face, revealing pretty, brown, fascinated eyes that were, indeed, staring right at you. You could feel heat growing in your cheeks, but did your best to stay calm.

“No, just a lost soul.” You joked lightly. He blinked a few times at you, almost dumbfounded. He was adorable.

“What are you looking for?”

“Something fun.” A smile grew on his face at your reply.

“I can show you that. I’m Slash.”

“Slash?” You asked in amazement, and he chuckled.

“Yeah, well, my name’s Saul. But I’ve been called Slash for years.” Saul. Slash.

“Okay, cool. I’m Y/N.” You both exchanged smiles and he jerked his head, waiting to make sure you walked beside him rather than behind him.

He took you to where the rest of his band was gathered and introduced you to an eclectic group, all of whom were nice and chill. Less chaos than Motley, but still had that aura hanging in the air, that they were on the verge of destruction, that they were a gang.

Slash, though soft-spoken, asked you question after question—where you were from, what you normally did for fun, what music you liked as he strummed a guitar mindlessly. You watched his fingers in amazement, how effortless he made the action look. And then came his question, “why are you backstage?”

“Oh, well, I’m with—” Speak of the devil…

“Y/N?” You turned at the sound of the door slamming open and Vince appearing in the door frame. “Where the fuck have you been, I’ve been looking all over for you!”

“I’ve been listening to these guys jam. You guys picked a great opening act.” You replied coolly, and you couldn’t help but notice the way Slash smiled down at his guitar silently.

“Well, you’re supposed to be helping me with my makeup,” Vince didn’t hesitate to cross the room and pull you off the couch you were sitting on by your arm, giving you no chance in the matter. “Or, something more productive. Like putting that pretty mouth of yours to use.” You sent Vince a look and immediately snatched your arm out of his grip. No way were you going to tolerate being disrespected like that in a room full of people.

“If you wanted a sex toy to bring on the road with you, I’m sure you could have had plenty of other girls—that’s not what I am.” You replied, pushing around him and walking out of the room. Vince chased you down the hall.

“Hey! Y/N, wait! Hey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Vince cooed, pulling you to a stop and pressing his lips to your neck. “I just wanted to make sure they knew you were with me; I just get jealous. Especially when you look so fucking good tonight.” You let it go, but you didn’t forget the incident. And you especially didn’t forget the moment later, when you were watching Motley Crue perform from the side of the stage, as a hand gently touched your shoulder. It was Slash.

“Hey...you ever...want...someone...find...” you couldn’t hear him over Mick’s guitar.

“What?” You yelled at him. He laughed before leaning in close to your ear. He had to brush your hair back, and his lips were practically touching your skin.

“If you ever get bored or want to have fun with someone while you’re on tour, come and find me.”

The implication of that almost had you nervous; did all these guys just think you were a road groupie? But, sure enough, Vince ditched you once more at another show and you found yourself knocking on the Guns N’ Roses dressing room door. And there was Slash, answering the door with a smile as though you had known each other for years. “Hey, dude. Check this out, tell me what you think.” He played you a guitar riff he had been working on and waited expectantly to hear your thoughts after. And that was that, you were fast friends.

You weren’t sure how to explain the phenomenon, but you knew it was mutual. Just a special connection; even when you were both still learning about each other, it felt more as if you were remembering. It was like putting on a pair of boots that had already been worn in.

And you knew it was mutual because, according to his bandmates, Slash was pretty shy unless he was drunk. But not with you; he could talk your ear off. Somehow in just a couple weeks, it felt as if you were best friends.

That was an incredible feeling in itself; at this age in life, could you really meet another person out of the blue and grow so close so fast? But beyond that, there were little moments. These moments you quickly grew to live for, these moments made your heart race and your palms sweat.

Moments when you looked over at him, cigarette hanging from his mouth as he focused on the guitar, and you never wanted to kiss a pair of lips more. Moments when you thought maybe, just maybe, Slash felt the same. He would hug you in greeting every time he saw you, but sometimes leave his arm around your waist, effectively holding you to him until he had to let you go. When you would swear you caught him already staring because of how fast he turned his head away.

“Y/N, I can’t wait for you to meet Pandora.”

“Who’s that?” He smiled up at you, his head resting on your lap as it usually did, a guitar resting in his.

“She’s my boa.”

“Your...your snake?”

“She’s the sweetest—she’s gonna love you.”

He wanted you to meet his snake—or, snakes. You laughed, and for some reason, you felt such a wave of affection hit you at just the thought of his existence. You spent more time watching Guns open from the side of the stage than you did watching Motley—you were usually goofing off with Slash at that point. Suddenly, Vince’s continuing disappearances didn’t bother you so much. The only thing that actually did bother you was when Slash would walk you up to your always empty hotel room every evening. The both of you would drag your steps every time and take unnecessary trips to the snack machine, or stand out on the balcony to check out the moon. Just anything to prolong ending the night.

“Empty again,” you joked to Slash as you opened the hotel room door to dark and vacant room. You weren’t even sure why you and Vince kept up the charade anymore—he hadn’t even kissed you in days. At this point, you were riding to the arenas with Slash and his band.

Slash didn’t laugh like you thought he would. He was looking down, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Can I ask you something and you promise to not get mad?” He asked you. His words were almost rushed, as though he had to gather courage to even say them.

“Yeah, of course you can. What’s up?”

“Do you actually like him? Vince?” He ventured. “I mean, I know you don’t love him, but...”

“How do you know that?” You asked out of curiosity, certainly not out of disagreement. He was right, of course. Slash shrugged a shoulder.

“I would just imagine, you know...if you love someone, you would want to be around them. Tell them things first, eat with them, just kinda look to them first.” You listened to his words, realizing over the past few days you had been doing all of the above with Slash. You had given up trying to tell the nuances of your day to Vince, but Slash listened when you told him how you short circuited the electricity with your blow dryer at the hotel. He laughed at your jokes or when you tripped backstage because he was always watching you. He gave you his jacket when he saw you shiver once, he made sure you got food after the show if you were still hungry. When he was drunk and carefree, he wouldn’t chase after groupies. He would come and find you and fall asleep on your shoulder.

“I don’t love Vince.” You confirmed softly. “Vince...had me fooled into thinking he was someone else. That he cared.”

“Then why are you with him?” You stared back at him, unable to give him an answer.

“I don’t...”

“Let’s go out.” You felt your heart jump.

“We’ve...we’ve been out, though.”

“Y/N, Denny’s after midnight is hardly a date.” He said, though he was fighting a smile; that was a good memory.

“Depends on who you ask,” you chuckled, making him chuckle. “Wait, did you say a date?”

“Well, yeah. That’s what I mean.” He said softly. “Listen, Y/N. I think you’re pretty cool. And I dunno, I’ve never really...like, there’s a lot of pretty girls out there, right? But you’re so fucking beautiful I thought I was seeing things when you opened the door that day. Then, I found out you were with Vince, and I tried to let it go, but I see how he treats you, and it pisses me off. You deserve better. But you just, us, you and I, we click, you know? I know you feel it, right?” You nodded after a moment and felt your heart flip again when he smiled. “So, give it a chance. We have the day off tomorrow. Let’s fucking do something fun—I don’t know, we can go to the fucking zoo! Or go find some concert somewhere or just, go anywhere.”

“...Okay.” You agreed with a smile. He grinned back at you.

“Okay? So like, early afternoon? 4 or something?” You smiled; was he that excited to see you? Your heart hadn’t been this giddy in a long time.

“Yeah, that sounds great with me.”

It was barely 3 in the afternoon and you were towel drying your wet hair, fresh out of the shower, when your hotel room slammed open. Vince appeared for the first time since you’d last seen him before the concert the night before, staring at you with what you could only describe as fury. You stared at him silently.

“Can you fucking tell me why all the Guns N’ Roses guys are hyping up Slash for his big date tonight with Y/N?” He demanded. You looked down, waiting for the shake and guilt to hit you, but it never came.

“Vince, it’s not like we were in love with each other.” You said with quiet bluntness. Vince’s eyes grew wide.

“I brought you on fucking tour with me!”

“And ever since then you’ve left me night in and night out to go and sleep with every groupie that comes your way! We haven’t slept in the same bed in weeks! There are fucking lipstick stains on your neck right now, Vince!” He glanced in the mirror quickly before he cursed under his breath.

“Y/N...it’s just, the way it is, you know? That’s the life we live.”

“You just fuck other girls and have me waiting for you too? That’s the life?”

“Alright, I fucked up. I do care about you, Y/N, baby. I do. I’m trying. I’ll do better.” Vince’s voice was soft and sugary, and he walked over to you, grabbing your hand in his, holding your eyes with his. “Just give me another shot. We’ll have some fun.” This time, his smooth talking did nothing for you; your heart was already taken by someone else. You slipped your hand out of his and silently began gathering up your things.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” Vince laughed as you shoved your clothes in your luggage. “C’mon, baby, just calm down. You’re not even dressed.” You sent him an incredulous look.

“I am more than calm. Goodbye, Vince.”

“Where are you going? Y/N, seriously! Oh, what—are you just gonna jump onto the next rock star? I thought you weren’t a groupie, huh? He just wants to fuck you and then he’ll drop you, just you fucking wait! That’s all we do!”

“No, that’s what you do. You don’t speak for him or me.” You snapped over your shoulder at Vince’s childish yelling. The door slammed behind you and you smirked a little.

You made your way through the hotel in your towel, barefoot and hair dripping, and knocked on the door you knew to be Slash’s. He opened it slowly in confusion, and felt your heart expand at the sight of him already dressed and ready to go much too early—clean hair swept out of his eyes, a flannel that was barely buttoned, and leather pants. He took one look at your bag and towel.

“It’s not 4 yet.” He said, the hint of a smile on his lips.

“Speak for yourself.” You said, fighting the urge to smile back. He leaned against the door frame, now smiling outright. “…You know, I think I just lost my backstage pass.” Slash laughed.

“It’s all good; I’ll sneak you in in my guitar case or some shit. And besides; this leg of the tour is almost over. We only have a few shows with them left. Next month, we’re opening for Alice Cooper.” He paused a little, his voice turning serious. “You know you can come, if you want.”

“I don’t know,” you murmured, looking down. Some of the things Vince had said were sinking in; you didn’t want to be known as just some groupie that jumped from band to band. Slash touched your shoulder in an effort to get you to look at him.

“I want you to come.” Your heart fluttered again, and threatened to soar out of your chest entirely when he leaned forward and gave you a light and sweet tender peck on the lips—your very first kiss together. He pulled back too quickly, laughing. “You look ridiculous.” You glanced back down at your towel again and laughed. Slash took your bag from your shoulder and stood aside. “You know, I’ve only got one bed in here.”

“That sounds good to me.”

[inkrabbit]

Sucker - Pete x Vance

 Sitting on his bed, yearbook resting in his lap, Pete stares at the signatures from the greasers. Summer break had started a few weeks ago, and while some students had gone back home or were on vacation outside of Bullworth, he had been trapped in his dorm. Sure, he went out occasionally to walk around town, see what was new at the cinema or get some fast food, but that was it. Even Jimmy had been too preoccupied to hang out with him, which wasn’t too much of a surprise. Sure, he had hoped maybe he could hang out with his best (and pretty much only) friend over the summer before the ginger went home, but when he found the dorm room closed and texts explaining he was working those odd jobs for extra cash, all those expectations had flew right out the window. Pete was used to being alone, sure, but this felt worse. Having finally made a friend and then to just be… forgotten.

 So here he was, feeling sorry for himself and wondering if he could ease it by taking Vance up on his old offer. Join the greasers at the tenements, hang out and forget – just for a moment – that he was a loser. But the phone number seemed so intimidating, and as Pete grabbed his phone, he found it hard to do anything. To power it on, input his password and create a new text message. What would he say? “Hey Vance, I’m feeling lonely and wanna hang out”? Did that sound too desperate – too emotionless? Should he ask him how he was doing and hope he would be invited to hang out? He didn’t know how Jimmy did it. He had seen his friend start up a conversation out of nowhere. Even whenever he would text Pete, it would sometimes just be a simple “wanna hang out?” message that seemed so nonchalant. Is that what he should send?

 His phone’s ringtone going off scares him, making him jump as he looks down at the caller ID. It’s a familiar phone number, and it’s only familiar because he’s spent the past hour or so staring at it in his yearbook. With a deep inhale, he accepts the call, holding his phone up to his ear.

“Hey, Vance! What’s up?” he greets, trying to sound confident as he closes the book, slipping it into his nightstand’s drawer.

“How’s it hangin’, big daddy?” What did he call him? Pete sits there, brows knitted together and mouth agape as the name replays over and over in his head. “You got my number memorized, huh? Now why’s that?”

“Ah, I was just gonna text you, actually,” he confesses, “Why do you have my number? I don’t remember giving it to you.”

“Jimmy gave it to me,” He can almost see the greaser shrug, his reply coming like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Now then, what were ya gonna text me?”

“Uh I guess – uh…” He’s stuck now, mind drawing a blank. He can hear Vance on the other side, an interested mhmm coming through loud and clear, curious to hear his reply. “I wanted to know if you wanted to hang out?”

 There’s silence on the other end for a bit, and now he’s worried that was the wrong thing to say. He should’ve asked how he was doing instead, cursing himself for blurting out the first thing that came to mind. However, he starts to hear shuffling, and he can faintly make out someone else in the background, but not one he recognizes from the academy.

“If you don’t shut your mouth – not you, Petey – I’m gonna shut it for you!” Vance’s booming voice makes him jump, the sound of a door slamming shut at the end of his threat, as if proving a point. With a sigh of relief, he starts again in a calmer tone. “Now, what was that? Hangin’ out? Sure!”

“Ah, are you okay?” he asks, “Who was that?”

“Oh, ya mean the yellin’?” he chuckles, the shuffling continuing on the other side of the call. “Sorry ‘bout all that. Sergio’s a bit of a prick sometimes.”

“Sergio?” Vance lets out a breath that sounds like a mixture of a scoff and a chuckle.

“Older bro,” he tells him softly, and that airy, jokey tone has vanished. “Likes to butt into my life a lot. Annoyin’, but that’s why I stay away from home so much.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were home…” He should’ve guessed. Vance wasn’t one of the quiet kids at Bullworth. He was probably busy for the summer, either being home or with friends.

“Nah, I need a break,” Pete can only guess he hears a window creaking open, and a few seconds later, Vance is letting out a huff. “You still at school? I’ll come swing by, pick you up. We can do whatever.”

“Really?” He tries to keep his cool and not sound like some desperate dweeb, but with the soft chuckle he gets, he knows he failed.

“Really. ‘Sides, I told ya to hit me up whenever. That’s why I gave you my number!” The comment makes him smile and Pete makes sure to let his appreciation be known. With a soft goodbye, he lets himself relax. A smile is plastered on his face and for a moment he wonders why Jimmy had given Vance his number. Whatever the reason, he doesn’t dwell on it too long. He knew Vance lived somewhere in New Coventry and he didn’t have long to get dressed.

 Setting his phone on the nightstand, he hops up from his bed and walks over to his wardrobe. He keeps it casual, knowing Vance wasn’t exactly someone who critiqued people’s fashion too harshly. The first thing he grabs is the old band shirt Jimmy had left when he spent the night months earlier. It’s simple enough, a white Billy Talent shirt with a little design, “like a fire!” right below it. It’s a little baggy and the material isn’t the thickest, but it’s something and truth be told, he had always liked the shirt. Or, just maybe, he liked how cool it had looked on Jimmy and he hoped it would look just as good on him. Throwing on some old jeans and his sneakers, he ruffles his hand through his hair, ridding himself of any lint. He lingers for a moment, staring at himself in the mirror. Maybe he would grow his hair out this year? Something new.

 With a shake of the head, he snatches his phone up and shoves it into his pocket, exiting his room and steering clear of Wade dumping one of the nerds into the nearby trashcan. Pushing open the doors, he jogs down the steps and makes his way over the main gate, anticipation coursing through him. A part of him is worried about how today’s events will transpire. What would they do? Would Vance make fun of him? Would he flake out? He did seem eager to meet up. But was that because he just wanted to get away from his brother?

“Ay, Petey!” He looks up, sending Vance a smile as the greaser approaches. Eyeing him up and down, Vance lets out a low whistle, eyebrows raised. “What’s your tale, nightingale? Ya look different!”

“Oh, I uh – I-I didn’t wanna make you wait,” he responds, letting out a nervous chuckle. Vance claps a hand on his shoulder, making him jump.

“Looks good on ya,” he tells him. Heat rushes to Pete’s face. How long had it been since someone had genuinely complimented him?

“T-thanks! You look good too!” It was the first time he had seen the teen like this. His hair had been slicked back, almost hastily, and while he still wore his leather jacket, the rest was different. A white dress shirt that had been unbuttoned, a black top underneath with matching jeans. Even his shoes were changed, old worn out high tops that were left untied.

“What? Ya like what ya see?” Vance’s teasing tone brings Pete out of his daze, the greaser laughing when he starts to stutter.

“I-I just – I mean I-” He takes a moment, breathing in and trying to collect himself as they start to walk. “Y-you just look different, too. Never seen you like that.”

“Got dressed quick,” he confesses, and even though his tone turns to a more calmer one, his smile never fades. “Wasn’t really expectin’ to go out today. Glad you asked, though. Sergio was startin’ his crap.”

“I never heard you talk of him,” That wasn’t much of a surprise. Pete had often kept his distance from shop class, intimidated of the clique and their hostile personalities. He wasn’t exactly the best at fixing bikes either and didn’t have much of a desire for it, which was why he had skipped it when filling out what extracurricular he had wanted. “What’s he like?”

 Vance hums a bit, lost in thought as they pass over the bridge that led into Old Bullworth Vale. He tells Pete of how Sergio used to go to Bullworth, and how he was the main reason he got into fixing bikes and wanting to eventually move on to cars. They lived in a broken home, their father occasionally bringing home some woman for the night and locking them out. Sergio would often steal the keys to the car before they were pushed out, giving them a warm and somewhat safe place to sit in throughout the night. Vance never knew if his brother slept those nights, but he remembered falling asleep in the passenger seat, the older teen behind the wheel with a scowl on his face and switchblade in hand. They often parked on the street in the richer part of town, but Sergio was paranoid, knowing of the delinquents that roamed around. Apparently they were worse those few years ago from the stories he heard and the cuts and bruises on his brother’s body when he would come home in the early mornings. Vance even bragged about knowing how to set a broken nose and pop a shoulder back into its socket, much to Pete’s horror.

 The stories of Sergio eventually turned into how Vance joined the greasers. Once the leader of the clique, he had filled Vance’s head with stories of shop class. The stupid antics he and the others would get into, the stories and conspiracy theories Neil would tell them. They all seemed very entertaining and fun, and it was no wonder Vance had wanted to experience it. Sergio had apparently appointed Johnny’s brother as leader, but had forced him to agree to watch over and take care of Vance when he started his high school life the following year, knowing how hostile the other member was. So before Vance had made friends with Lefty and made a strong connection, Johnny’s older brother was right by his side, deterring any other greaser that came up with ill intent.

“Maybe you’ll join us, too?” Vance’s suggestion catches Pete off guard, his eyes going wide as he looks at him. Could he ever really pass off as a greaser?

“I-I dunno,” he stammers softly, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “I-I don’t really see myself being… one of you guys.”

“I do!” he declares, a bright smile on his face. “C’mon! When school starts up, we’ll go talk to Neil!”

“We?” he repeats. Would Vance really go speak to the man with him to get him enrolled into shop?

“’Course! It’ll be fun!” he tells him confidently. His head is held high as he wraps an arm around his shoulder, bringing him closer. “You’ll have us to hang out with and protect you. What? You think sometimes I don’t wanna goof off in class?”

 The greasers had always seemed so serious when it came to their bikes, but he told a different story. How he, Ricky and Peanut would make jokes, harass each other and even start small fights. They had been sent out more times than he could count, and Pete thought what that would be like.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally tells him. Throwing his fist in the air, Vance lets out an overjoyed holler. Pete supposed he would be speaking to Neil when August rolled around, and he would be spending more time with the greasers. At least he wouldn’t be alone.

 Pete doesn’t realize they’ve made it all the way to the carnival until the loud music reaches his ears, having been too enticed in Vance’s interesting (and overly dramatic) stories. Some about the clique and some about his older brother. And as Vance pays for their way in, the greaser turns his attention to him.

“What about you?” he asks, curiosity thick in his voice as they find a bench to sit down on.

“W-what about me?” He lets out a nervous chuckle, avoiding the teen’s gaze.

“I told you all about me!” he starts as he raises his voice just a bit, “Now it’s your turn! What’s ol’ Petey’s life like?”

“Not as exciting as yours,” he confesses softly. Vance just scoffs, rolling his eyes with a smile on his face.

“Yeah, sure,” he dismisses with that snarky tone, “I seem to remember ya bein the one to operate that old hunk of junk in the junkyard way back when.”

“You mean the magnetized crane?” he clarifies, snicking as Vance rolls his eyes and waves a hand dismissively.

“Yeah, whatever,” He turns back to him, grin once again appearing on his face. “Now, again, tell me about yourself!”

“W-well...” There wasn’t much to tell, but Pete decided to share anyway. His story wasn’t as exciting or scary, but Vance seemed to take interest. He scoffed when Pete said his parents lived decently close to the school, but he lived in the dorm room anyway because his parents wanted “some peace and quiet”. No wonder he was so awkward. Vance would bet anything that his parents were to blame for the younger teen’s poor social skills. Not to mention his father was a librarian, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the man kept a quiet tone around the house too.

 When asked about any siblings, Pete could only shake his head. His parents were dismissive of his existence, often leaving him to his own devices, only coming around once in a while to check on him. His main entertainment was watching TV or playing video games, occasionally even drawing. His parents would buy him little sketchbooks, seemingly pleased that he had found something quiet to do without them having to hear noises coming from the television set. He did admit that he had a hamster at one point, an orange and white long-haired rodent that was his best friend for a few years before it passed from old age. It was sad that he didn’t even seem to have friends growing up, his parents not wanting him to go out in fear he would get hurt or taken. Maybe that was the only nice thing Vance had heard about the couple, but Pete had been right. His stories weren’t as exciting. Apparently his first year at the academy had been the most thrilling time of his life, and Jimmy had been his first and only friend. Vance couldn’t imagine having a life so… sad.

“How’s ‘bout we keep makin’ this depressin’ life of yours fun?” Vance suggests, a glint flashing across his eyes as he grabs the younger teen’s hand, pulling him up from the bench. Pete falters and stutters out a flurry of questions, almost tripping over his feet as he tries to keep up with the teen’s fast pace. Vance is just a bundle of laughter, promising him a night he wouldn’t forget.

 They start at the back of the park first, walking through the freak show and marveling at the people behind the glass.  Alfred, the skeleton man, had been the first freak to greet them, eyeing Pete as he took a drag from his cigarette. Seeing his bones poke out through his skin had sent shivers down his spine, and his voice held something Pete couldn’t quite place. As they made their way further in, they could hear Paris talking, making some remark about the show she was watching. Sitting on her couch with legs spread, she sent them an acknowledging smile as she picked up a few chips, throwing them into her mouth as she scratched at her beard. Of course, Vance had a couple remarks about her, but Pete had tried to drown him out as he led him throughout the rest of the freak show.

 The others had all been interesting, and Pete had wondered how life could be so weird. Siamese twins, a mermaid that Vance wasn’t too sure was real. However, the one who stuck out the most to Pete was Drew, the crazy painted man. His screaming and incoherent rambling had already made the teen nervous, but when the man threw himself against the bars of his enclosure, he had jumped back with a shriek, scared the bars wouldn’t hold him. Vance had grabbed his arm, steadying him as he tried to calm his nerves.

“He’s just actin’,” he tells him as he shoots an agitated glance at Drew, “Guy’s just some wacko. Probably doin’ this for the easy money.”

 Pete just nodded his head as he followed him, but the screaming had stuck with him, and he was sure it would for the rest of his life. And though he didn’t want to admit it, he was more than overjoyed to have walked out of the freak show, letting out a breath he didn’t even realize he had been holding in. Maybe it was the dark lighting or how cramped everything felt, but Pete didn’t like it, only noticing once they were outside just how close he had been walking to Vance.

“How about we try out those rides ‘fore it gets any darker?” It’s only now that Pete realizes the sun is starting to set. With a smile, he gives him a nod and follows him over to the Big Squid. The line moved quick through the queue, and before they knew it, they were being seated in one of the carts. The monotone voice of Freeley comes through over the speakers, the request that everyone keeps hands and feet inside and not try to stand up during the ride. And when it starts, picking up speed and throwing them around, Pete can’t keep the smile off of his face, occasionally glancing over to Vance, seeing him laughing as well. It felt nice for Pete, to feel like he finally belonged somewhere or meant something to someone.

 By the time they get off, both are a bit dizzy. Pete raises his hand to rest it on Vance’s shoulder in order to stabilize himself, but when he finally registers the cool leather beneath his palm, he pulls away, worried about what response he would receive from the greaser. However, Vance just gives him a joyful smile as he leads him over to the roller coaster. They’re not seated in the front, Pete being too nervous, so both opt for the cart in the middle.

“Lemme slide by ya there,” Vance’s voice is soft as he moves over Pete, who’s sitting in the seat closest to the steps they had just walked up. They pull the bar down securely, Pete giving a few extra tugs to ensure it wouldn’t be going anywhere. Of course this doesn’t go unnoticed, and the greaser snickers softly at the younger teen’s actions. Once more, they hear the monotone announcement before the ride starts, launching them towards the opening of the canyon before pulling them up. Everyone else on the ride has their arms raised, but Pete’s holding onto the metal bar for dear life. And as they approach the top of the hill, he screws his eyes shut, body tensing as he prepares for the worse.

 A scream is pulled from him as the coaster falls down the hill, and Vance reaches over to pry his left hand from the handle bar, raising it into the air with his, yelling at him to just let loose and have fun. Although his body is trembling a bit from the fall, he takes the advice and finally opens his eyes, loosening the grip he had on his other hand and letting it raise into the air as well. Vance is still holding his hand, palms pressed together as Pete grips him with almost the same intensity as he was the bar. However, despite the biting wind in his face and the sharp turns that throw him into the teen, Pete can’t keep the large smile off of his face. Vance is right, this is a lot more fun. And as the coaster returns its original spot, the two are still laughing. The bar rises and Pete stands up, stepping out, still holding Vance’s hand to keep him steady and make sure he doesn’t trip as the greaser asks him how his hair looks. There’s one more ride and as they walk over, Pete has to stop the teen before he pays yet again for their fun.

“You’ve paid for everything!” he tells him with a laugh, digging out a dollar from his pocket and giving it to the operator. “It’s time I paid for something.”

“Well, ain’t you just the sweetest,” Vance smiles at him as he leads him over to the rickety seat. He scoots over to the end, allowing Pete to climb in after him, both pulling down the bar that creaked loudly. The ride starts, jerking them forward a bit as they follow the curve up. The sun’s set by now, and the carnival lights illuminate below them as they’re taken higher and higher up. Pete shivers as the soft breeze picks up, but he tries to concentrate on the view around them. He can see the beach in the distance, the lighthouse’s light rotating around. Their cart stops at the very top, rocking slightly and Pete looks below. They’re so high off the ground, it’s intimidating. Another shiver runs through him, this one out of fear.

“You cold?” Vance questions, cocking his head as he looks at him. Pete lets out a soft hum, eyebrows raised as he turns his gaze to meet his. Vance just gives him a cheeky smile as he brings his hands up, gripping his jacket and removing it from him. It was the first time Pete had seen a greaser without their iconic coat on, and he was honestly surprised to see that he actually had some muscle to him.

“U-uh… what’re you doing?” Pete’s confused when Vance drapes the jacket over his shoulders, but the warmth he feels is more than welcoming.

“You’re cold, ain’t ya?” he asks with a small chuckle, “I’m fixin’ it!”

“Y-you don’t h-have to,” he stammers softly, but Vance doesn’t seem to be taking no for an answer. He just sits there, a smile on his face as he tilts his head up, looking at the stars.

“Glad ya asked me out, ya know?” he starts, catching Pete off guard. He was glad? “Gets kinda… crazy at home sometimes, and everyone else was off doin’ their own thing. Managed to find Jimmy and get your number, just to chat but… well, you had a better idea.”

“Yeah, I hear ya,” he agrees, going to hold the jacket close as he matches Vance’s smile. “I don’t really got anyone except Jimmy, and he’s been busy. I'm too cool to be a dork, and too dorky to be anything else, so I’m always just… alone.”

“No you’re not,” The confident tone makes Pete knit his eyebrows together. “Ya got me now! And soon, you’ll have the greasers! Peanut’s gonna be the leader, and I just know he’d be happy to have ya!”

“Maybe cause I’m Jimmy’s friend,” he scoffs softly, looking to the ground as the ride resumes, slowly bringing them down. “I just… I wanna feel like I exist without him, you know?”

“You do,” Vance wraps an arm around his shoulders, bringing him closer to him. “You and me? We’re existin’, right now, without Jimmy. And you’ll be existing, without Jimmy, when you join us.”

“Yeah, sure. We’ll see,” Maybe it was the low self-esteem Pete always had throughout his life. How dull and mediocre it was, and how the most exciting thing to ever happen to him was falling in with the only two psychopaths in all of Bullworth. “Just feels like I only had a meaning when Gary and Jimmy showed up in my life.”

“And you’d be wrong,” As they get to the bottom and the railing lifts, the two make their way out of the old cart, thanking the man and being on their way. When they walk to the gates, Vance’s arm finds its way back across Pete’s shoulder and they fall into step towards the exit. “Tonight’s been amazing, and it’s because you asked me to come hang. Not Jimmy, and sure as hell not Gary. Don’t see any of those two makin’ you do this.”

“You’re right,” he chuckles. They walk back through the tunnel, Vance still giving him a pep talk he probably needed years ago. He’s still holding onto the jacket, his face tinted red and a smile pulling at his lips. It’s not long before they get into a more friendly conversation, making jokes and thoughts about what the next school year would hold. Vance kept referring to him as the newest greaser, and at this point, Pete wasn’t even denying him or the idea. He loved the thought in fact. To be part of a clique and feel like he belonged? Have something relatively close to a family that would care for him and make him feel like he mattered? It was almost like a dream come true.

 They walk all the way back to school, sneaking past the prefects that were out prowling, looking for any students breaking curfew. It was a lot warmer inside the dorms when they entered, the doors shutting loudly behind them as they walked down the hall and towards Pete’s room. However, that was as far as Vance went. Standing outside of his room, he’s practically beaming at the younger teen.

“I had fun,” he tells him, and Pete can only nod in agreement. They stood closely together, and the faint smell of Vance’s cologne mixed with the cigarettes he smoked almost religiously had radiated off of him. It was nice, calming in a way.

“I uh – I’m uh… I-I’m really glad you called,” Pete laughs, turning his gaze to the floor. “Not sure I would’ve been able to text you.”

“Me too,” Curling his index finger under Pete’s chin, Vance raises his face so he’s looking at him again. Softly brushing his thumb across his bottom lip, he leans in to press a kiss to his mouth. Eyes going wide, Pete stares at him in disbelief when he pulls away, hearing a chuckle. “You have a good night, Petey. Maybe we can hang out again tomorrow.”

��He opens his mouth to say something – anything, but nothing comes out. So instead, his just nods, his face on fire as the greaser chuckles once again. He takes a step back, gives him one last smile and finally moves to leave the dorm. Pete’s knees feel weak, his heart racing, thudding so loud against his chest that it reverberates in his ears. He turns to go inside of his room, but a gasp escapes his lips. He rushes after Vance, flinging the heavy door to the dorm rooms open.

“Y-your jacket!” he calls after the teen. Turning back with an innocently confused face, he looks Pete up and down. The leather jacket is still hanging from his shoulders. It was cute that he didn’t put his arms through the sleeves.

“You keep it,” he tells him, a smug grin forming. “Every greaser needs a leather jacket! Consider it a gift!”

“O-oh, o-okay…” He smiles, shrinking in on himself just a bit. “Thank you! I’ll take good care of it!”

 Vance just nods, turning his heels and continuing his way out of school grounds and towards home. Pete watches him until he makes a right, disappearing behind the walls. With a soft sigh, he closes the door and returns to his room. He gently takes the jacket off, hanging it on the coat hanger by the door. His heart fluttered as he admired it, and he couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face. He owed Jimmy his gratitude, and come the beginning of the school year, he was going to make his way down to shop class and speak with Neil about joining.

[fire-bear]

Familiar Voices

(Working title, from that song that goes “All around me are familiar faces”, etc.)

So, I’ve been doing the AFTG Bingo 2020, as you may have noticed and, since I had a few hours since I posted my last one, I decided to start work on another square. I’m not going to finish it tonight so I decided to just post the part that I’ve got done now and relax before I go to bed (or I won’t sleep well, as per usual). Anyways, I was going to attempt another line, but since I knew I wouldn’t finish, I went with the Musicians AU.

(I’ve put some under the cut cause this is a rather long post, but I wanted to show off the first part, so.)

The summary would be something like:

Neil was happy with his new name, new life, new friends, new home. He still had a lot of pop culture and movies and music to catch up on. Which is probably why all of his friends are excited when the popular rock band that Neil has never heard of - The Monsters - have come to town.

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

“There’s a rockstar in town,” Matt told Neil, three months after Neil had finally felt settled in his new life. 

“Okay,” said Neil, placidly. He pulled out a paper cup. “What do you want today?”

“A mocha,” said Matt, distractedly. He was scrolling through his phone, even as he was bent almost double to lean against the counter. 

“Cake?” Neil asked, knowing that Matt liked to have something at this point in the day.

“Hm, yeah. I should be healthy so, like, the carrot cake?”

“Sure,” said Neil, grinning cheekily at Matt when he looked up with a pout.

“Aren’t you interested?” Matt demanded, waving his phone at Neil.

“Nope.”

“Neil!” Matt whined. 

“You know I’m not a big music fan,” Neil pointed out, already starting to work the coffee machine. The clanging and hissing filled the air of The Foxhole, the little coffee shop that Neil now worked in. 

He loved working there. Aside from the delicious smells that bloomed from the kitchen, the shop itself was cosy. There were two types of tables. Some were low for the comfy couches and armchairs. Others were attached to the thin pillars that were dotted around the place, tall stools available for the customers. The walls were painted white with little fox pawprints dotted across it. Napkins with foxes printed on them were available at the tables and every table also had fox salt and pepper shakers. A giant fox looked down on Neil from above the machines, nosing at the menu that was done in orange writing. 

It was home and Neil treasured it.

At the moment, since it was an hour till closing, there were very little people in. Anyone that wasn’t Matt were taking their coffees to go, on their way to back shifts and night shifts. Only a few people were actually sitting in, most of which were students. There was also a couple who were on a blind date, blushing at each other and stuttering through flustered conversation. That meant that Matt could block the counter without annoying anyone.

“I can let you listen to some right now,” Matt said, quickly tapping away at his phone.

Neil glanced towards the students and the date. “I don’t think doing that here is a good idea, Matt,” he said, nodding to them. “Maybe another time.”

Instead of backing off like Neil had hoped, Matt pointed his phone at Neil. “Tonight. After work. Come by my place. We’ll get pizza and we’ll listen to The Monsters’ albums and watch movies. Right?”

Rolling his eyes at the coffee machine as he poured Matt’s mocha, Neil sighed. “Okay, fine. If you want me to listen to them that much, then yes.”

“Great!” Matt exclaimed. “I’ll go pick up Dan and see if the girls want to join in!”

Shaking his head with a fond smile, Neil set down the cup and the bag with the carrot cake. “Okay,” he said. “Now, get lost so I can shut up shop.”

“You’ve got an hour!” Matt protested, pouting. “How mean!”

Neil laughed and swatted at him with the cloth he used to wipe down the counter when he had nothing else to do. Grinning, Matt scooped up his purpose, left more than enough money - a tip for Neil was included, as usual - and left with a wave over his shoulder. Shaking his head, he returned to his work which was mainly cleaning at this late stage. He also stocked up things like the cups and sugar. Half an hour later, he retied his orange apron and began to move around the room, wiping down every table and chair. The blind date decided to move on. Frantic students checked the time and cleared out, too.

He was utterly alone when there were only fifteen minutes left of the coffee shop’s opening hours and the door opened.

Having already wiped everywhere down, he was back behind the counter. He hid a sigh as he looked up, watching the lone man enter and look around. Compared to the cosy, sunny atmosphere of the coffee shop, the man was a black hole. Black combat boots; black skinny jeans with a rip at one thigh and a rip on the opposite knee, a chain hanging from his left hip; black tank top with jagged edges and a deep v-neck; black armbands; a black, dangly earring shaped like a tooth. His hair was the only light colour on him, the blond in it pale enough to reflect the light and make it golden. The man sauntered closer, gazing around as he moved, and his hazel eyes landed on Neil.

“Hi,” said Neil, forcing a customer service smile. “What can I get you?”

“A mocha,” the man said in a deep, rumbling voice. “Extra chocolate, extra cream.”

Neil resisted commenting on his choice. “Sure thing,” he said, pulling a to-go cup off the freshly stacked pile.

“No,” said the man, stopping Neil in his tracks. “To sit in.”

Turning back to him, Neil gave him a baffled look. “Sir. We’re open for less than fifteen minutes now. Wouldn’t it be best to-?”

“No,” the man repeated. He turned away from Neil, heading for one of the many, many tables that Neil had already wiped down. “I’ll sit in.” He stopped and turned back to Neil before he decided where to sit. “And bring me cake.”

Looking him over again, Neil realised what his mistake had been. Though this man had ragged looking clothes, they were clearly designed to be like that. The material of his clothes were good, likely to last, and probably expensive. Neil was interacting with some rich asshole who shouldn’t have been allowed to walk around on his own. Dan would kill him, though, if he didn’t at least try to be nice to him, so Neil smiled a little wider, trying to shake the fact that he probably looked like his father from his mind.

“Of course, sir.” His voice was tight. He was probably going to be told off, at the very least. “Which kind?” Gesturing at the display - something he would have normally been packing away at this very moment - Neil forcefully returned the to-go cup to its pile. Once this man left, he’d have to wash the dishes - again.

“Chocolate. With ice cream.”

“We don’t have ice cream. Sorry. Sir.” Neil was ridiculously pleased that he could actually refuse the man something and focussed on making his awful drink, hiding his amusement.

Behind him, the man sighed. “Whatever.”

Neil rolled his eyes but didn’t respond. Instead, he made the man’s drink, pulled out the cake, got everything ready on a tray with cutlery and napkins, and took the arrangement over to the man. Without looking at him, Neil unloaded the tray and straightened, holding the tray against his chest. It provided him with a shield against the man’s intense gaze, though Neil couldn’t understand why he would want to look at him. He wasn’t particularly interesting, even after he had bit the bullet and returned his eyes and hair to their original colours. 

“Anything else, sir?” he asked, for something to say.

“No.” The man sounded dismissive, but he didn’t take his gaze off Neil’s face. And hair. And eyes. Neil blinked at him for a moment, trying to work out what he wanted or what he was doing. Then he gave up.

“Do you want me to take your money now, or…?”

For a moment, the man stared at him. Then he dug his hands into his pockets, searching, searching, searching. He pulled out a phone. “Google Pay?”

“Uh…” Neil pointed at the sign by the till. The one that read: Google and Apple Pay functions currently not working. We are working to get this fixed. Sorry for any inconvenience this may cause.

The man stilled, staring at it. Then he looked down at his coffee and cake. Finally, he looked up at Neil. “I’ll need to make a call.”

“What do you mean?” Neil snapped, losing his patience. The man raised an eyebrow. “The shop’s about to close. I’m not going to wait for you.”

“If I call now,” the man explained, “my cousin will get here in roughly ten minutes.”

“Sure,” said Neil, sarcastically.

[the--blackdahlia]

It’s So Easy (And Other Lies) Chapter 17

Title: It’s So Easy (And Other Lies) Chapter 17

Summary: Stevie Adler likes Duff McKagan. She has for a while now, but she is convinced Duff doesn’t like her that way. Duff likes Stevie, but so does their new bandmate Axl Rose.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sickness

AN: Thank you for all the feedback!

A Couple Months Later

It was back to work. The honeymoon was long over and Axl was starting to turn the band into a dictatorship. They were working on some new songs for the big album Axl had planned. He had even brought in a full time keyboard player named Dizzy Reed. He was a pretty nice guy, but they had to call him Reed and use Izzy’s last name in order to help with first name confusion, not that it worked half the time.

Stevie could feel a slight shift in the band as they worked on the song “Civil War”. Things were getting tense, Axl was snippier than normal, Izzy wasn’t hanging out and was distancing himself from the frontman, Slash seemed grumpy, and things just were not the same as they had been.

And then they were told about Farm Aid.

“Wait, isn’t that the thing Bob Geldof did?” Slash asked as they were sitting around, talking about it. Geffen had given them some information about it, and they were passing it around, reading about it.

“No, that was Live Aid,” Dizzy informed them.

“This was started by Willie Nelson, John Mellencamp, and Neil Young,” Duff told them, reading the paper the information packet.

“Oh, so it’s Pot Farm Aid,” Stevie laughed a little. She wasn’t feeling very great right now and was resting against Duff. He carded his fingers through her hair.

“Well, where is it?” Izzy asked Duff. He was sitting on the other side of Stevie on the couch, putting as many people between him and Axl as possible. Izzy had told Stevie what had happened, and she didn’t really blame him. Duff looked at the venue date and location and started to laugh. “What?”

“You’ll love it,” Duff told him. “Farm Aid 4 will be at the Hoosier Dome in Indianapolis, Indiana.”

“Fuck!” Izzy and Axl both groaned at once.

“Just when I think I’m out, it pulls me back in,” Axl sighed. Izzy rolled his eyes.

“We get like twelve minutes,” Duff flipped through the paper. “So we can do a couple shorter songs.”

“Or, we can premier “Civil War”,” Slash suggested. “I think it’s ready and we still have a few weeks to perfect anything we don’t like.”

“I think that could work,” Axl agreed. “Okay, we’ll put the other music on hold until we’re sure that Civil War is 100% ready.”

****

2 Days Before Farm Aid

Stevie was throwing up again. Her stomach didn’t hurt, and she didn’t have a fever, but it had been happening on and off for the past couple weeks. What she thought had been the flu or food poisoning had to be something else. She had a feeling she knew what it was. So, while Duff was out with the other guys, Stevie went to the drugstore and bought a pregnancy test. She followed the instructions on the box and waited for the results.

And it came back positive.

She was pregnant. Her and Duff were having a baby.

While she was excited, they had this big concert coming up. They were all so excited and so focused on it, she didn’t want to take away from it.

So the announcement could wait a few days until the event was over, right?

She tossed the test in the trash and went back to packing for the trip. It gave her plenty of time to think of the best way to announce it to Duff. She wanted to do something special. She was sure that she would have a big way to announce it to her husband by the time the concert was over.

****

Indianapolis, Indiana

Two Days Later

“Oh Indiana, the Hoosier state,” Axl sighed as they walked out of the airport to the car that was taking them to the hotel. They would drop their stuff off before heading to the venue for Farm Aid. Thankfully, it was April, and while it wasn’t exactly warm, it wasn’t as cold as they thought it would be, but it wasn’t warm either.

“What is a Hoosier?” Duff asked as they got in the car. Izzy sat by him and Stevie while Dizzy and Slash sat with Axl.

“The fuck if I know,” Axl shook his head.

“Well, you’re from here. Shouldn’t you know?” Dizzy pointed out, to which Axl glared at the keyboardist. He just gave the frontman a sheepish smile in return.

“A Hoosier...is a person from Indiana,” Izzy supplied as he lit his cigarette.

“Thanks for your knowledge Mr. Stradlin,” Slash laughed. Stevie rested her head on Duff’s arm and closed her eyes for a brief moment.

“You okay?” He asked her as the car made the trek from the airport to the hotel. He played with her hair gently.

“Yeah, just tired,” She told him. “Practice today, event tomorrow, then I’m going to sleep for a few days.” She knew she shouldn’t do it, but she hadn’t been eating very much to limit the morning sickness until after the event. She really didn’t want to blow the surprise by throwing up everywhere.

“Then it’s back to work on the albums you mean,” Axl laughed. Stevie sighed.

“Yeah, that’s what I meant…” She closed her eyes again.

Duff frowned as he looked at his wife. Something was wrong, he could feel it. He knew that she wanted to go back to their Seattle home. Hell, he did too. But while they were working on the albums, they had to be in LA. It wouldn’t be too much longer and they could go back. Maybe that would cheer her up. He knew it would make him feel better.

They got to the hotel and their manager was given all the keys before they headed up to the floor. He passed them all out and Izzy, Duff, and Stevie immediatly went to their rooms, leaving Dizzy, Slash, and Axl to mingle for a bit. Upon arriving in their room, Stevie threw herself on the bed. Duff would’ve laughed, but she had been so under the weather here the past few weeks.

“You feeling okay babe?” Duff asked, brushing her hair back.

“Yeah. Just this flu or whatever is really taking it out of me,” She laughed a little. He placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Axl can let us have a couple days off after this,” He told her. “He’s got all the words and music written down for this big, extravagant album. We just have to put it together. Hell, I think Dizzy already has a lot of the synth stuff down. Plus, I think that Izzy and everyone else could use a few days off too.”

“Yeah,” Stevie nodded, curling up farther into the blanket on the bed.

“You really aren’t feeling good, are you?” Duff asked. She just looked up at him. “After practice, we’ll get something to eat. Dinner, just the two of us?”

“That sounds amazing,” She stretched. “I miss our one on one dates.”

“Me too sweetheart.” He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. “Come on, let’s get to rehearsal.”

****

They practiced the two songs they were going to do at the venue, watching while people set up everything around them. Civil War followed by Down on the Farm. Everything sounded great in the large venue, but Stevie really just wanted to go back to the hotel and go to bed. She really hadn’t been feeling good, but she was looking forward to a night out with her husband.

“Ready to go babe?” Duff asked when they got done. Stevie smiled and nodded.

“Let’s go,” She laughed and took his hand. They headed out, heading to one of the downtown restaurants that had caught Duff’s eye.

“How about when we get back to LA, we take a week and go back to Seattle?” Duff asked as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they walked. “I know you miss the house. I miss it too. We could spend the whole week there.”

“That sounds amazing,” Stevie admitted. “But don’t you think Axl would throw a fit? You know how he wants to get this grand work of his out.”

“Screw him,” Duff rolled his eyes. “I don’t care if his fucking album doesn’t get out on time. All I care about is that my wife is happy.” Duff led her into the somewhat busy restaurant, but they got a table pretty quickly thankfully. They took their seats and ordered their drinks, Duff not seeming to notice that Stevie didn’t order alcohol when he ordered a beer.

“You think Axl and Izzy are happy to be back?” Stevie asked, sipping on the juice she had gotten.

“I think they’re fine as long as we don’t play Lafayette,” Duff laughed. “But soon, we’ll be back home in our bed and getting a much deserved break.”

“Yeah,” She nodded. “Duff, I…” Stevie was going to tell Duff what she had been wanting to tell him since she saw the positive test, but she was cut off.

“I’m here with them!” She heard Izzy tell the hostess. Duff and Stevie looked up as Izzy joined their table as the waitress came to get their order. “Hey guys!” He gave them a small smile. Duff and Stevie looked at each other before looking back at Izzy.

“Hey Iz,” Duff smiled. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I wanted a table and they’re kinda busy, and you had an extra seat. And, you know, sharing is caring,” The guitarist smiled at them. “And the first place I was going to, Axl was going and...I just don’t really want to spend time with him…” Stevie sighed a little.

“Make yourself at home,” She told him. Izzy nodded.

“Right on,” He took a menu to order his food. Stevie went with something light, since her stomach wasn’t agreeing with food. Duff and Izzy chatted while Stevie picked at her salad. Soon, they were done and the trio headed back to their hotel. Stevie shivered a little and Duff placed his jacket on her shoulders.

“You okay?” Izzy asked, looking at Stevie. He had adopted her like a sister just like Slash had, since she had been so supportive of him when he told her everything.

“I’m fine,” She told him. “Just kinda tired.” She snuggled into Duff’s jacket.

“I think her and I are gonna take a week and go back to Seattle,” Duff told Izzy. “Princess Peach is probably missing us. He’s been staying with Stevie’s mom, and I know he misses my mom. She spoils the brat.”

“King Axl won’t like that, but if you guys take off, I’m going to lock my apartment door and chill out for that week. Or maybe I’ll go someplace too,” Izzy smiled at them. “Let’s go get some sleep. We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”

****

Stevie slept through the wake up call. She slept through Duff getting up and opening the curtains. She just buried herself deeper into the blankets. Her body hated her and she really didn’t want to get up. Duff crawled onto the bed and placed kisses on her.

“Babe,” He whispered to her as he kissed her neck. “Get up.”

“Don’t wanna,” She groaned.

“Sweetheart, you have to,” He chuckled. “I know you’re tired Stevie, but once we’re done, we can ditch Izzy, Axl, Dizzy, and Slash. Head back to LA, snag Princess Peach, then get to Seattle and spend a week in our bed.” He kissed her shoulder.

“Okay, okay, I’m getting up,” Stevie told him. “But I’m not happy about it.”

“I know honey,” He laughed and watched as she got up and started to get ready. Duff watched her for a minute before he got ready himself.

****

The event was packed. There were so many artists gathered around, chatting, and the fans filled the stadium. They were all backstage, getting ready. Stevie watched as Izzy casted a couple looks in Axl’s direction, almost like he wanted to talk to him, but he just shook his head and buttoned his shirt. They were ready and led out to the stage for their small set. A quick warm up with the crowd staring at them and they were ready to go.

Stevie focused on the drums. That’s all she could manage to do. But fuck, why did Axl start wanting their songs to be seven minutes and longer. And they still had one more song to do. She just needed to focus on the drums and they would be done soon.

And they were, thankfully. They took their bows, waved at the crowd, then headed backstage. Dizzy, Axl, Slash, and Duff were walking ahead of Stevie and Izzy. Izzy was talking to Stevie.

“You excited to get back to Seattle?” Izzy asked, glancing over at her. “Too bad we can just work on it up there so you guys can be in your home for awhile or something.” He noticed that Stevie was quiet. “Stevie?” He looked at her, expecting to see her still walking with him.

Instead she stopped walking as the hall started to spin.

“Stevie?” Izzy asked again. The next thing he knew, her knees were buckling and she was going down to the ground. “Shit! Stevie!”

Forever Tags: @anathewierdo​ @dekahg​ @marvel-af-imagines​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @nanie5​ @imboredsueme​ @gemini0410​ @aiaranradnay​ @babypink224221​ @mogarukes​ @xxwarhawk​ @sandlee44​ @shatteredabby​ @caswinchester2000​ @supernaturalwincestsblog​ @lauravic​ @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk​ @teller258316​ @horrorpxnk​ @tommyleeownsme​ @marvelismylifffe​ @mrslogansixxpixx​

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It’s So Easy TAgs:  @str4nge-haze​ @viralwolf02​

[awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands]

Sky above, sand below, peace within. (Vinikki)

A/N: Thank you so much to @arnold-layne​ who helped me writing this fic in a correct way ! ( and let’s be real it probably would have sucked withouth her).

Inspired by this :

Nikki closed his eyes, enjoying the sea breeze.

Between the new album and his not-so-normal daily life, he found himself really on a verge of a nervous breakdown. The same could be said for the rest of the band, so when Vince decided to take a week off, nobody argued.

Mick was back home to visit his sons and his wife, Tommy went to visit some friends and parties and Vince decided to take Nikki to Malibu to relax and be alone. Vince and him have only been together for a couple of months, but these months were the best ones in his entire life. Unfortunately, they didn’t have many opportunities to be a “normal couple”: secret kisses before going on stage or during rehearsals, hidden hand squeezes between interviews and quick fucks in the nightclubs’ bathroom were not enough for them, so this holiday seemed like a gift from God or whoever was up there.

“What are you thinking, beautiful?” Vince asked, and when Nikki lifted his gaze he stopped for a moment: the singer’s blonde locks were illuminated by the sun, making him even more beautiful than he already was.

“How I’m lucky to have such a wonderful and hot boyfriend,” he said, letting his sweet side show, one that was usually hidden if they were not alone. “And also how it’s beautiful to be here,” Nikki said, resting his head on Vince’s shoulder. The singer kissed him on the cheek.

“I missed being in California. I used to surf here when I was a teen” Vince said, looking in the distance at the sea.

“So you’re really a Malibu Barbie after all, uh” Nikki remarked, smirking. The blonde glared at him with a deadly look before pushing him into the sand.

“Jeez, I was kidding, babe. I don’t know if I could picture you as a surfer, you’d probably be too worried to ruin your hair, but also you would look pretty hot doing it.”

“Well, luckily, I brought my surfboard so let’s find out!” Vince said, totally aware that he would made Nikki’s jaw drop at the sight. Nikki pulled him by his wrist and kissed him before letting him go.

“I think it’d be fair if we were both in our swimsuits” the singer added, and Nikki simply undressed, revealing his black boxers.

“Oh Vince, I thought that you would get wet after surfing!” The bassist  said, smirking.

“Oh fuck off, the last one to arrive at the beach has to hold the other’s hair while he’s puking” Vince said, running towards the sea with his surfboard.

Vince arrived last but he didn’t care: seeing his boyfriend so happy and free filled his heart with joy. He usually was not the sentimental type, but with Nikki it was difficult to not want to scream out all of his love right in front of him. He positioned himself on the board and hoped his muscle memory would help.

On the other hand Nikki sat on the shore looking at his Vince surfing really smoothly. He found himself spaced out again, thinking about how lucky he was and how many things they could do during that week: watching the stars, midnight swim, a romantic picnic, maybe even sex on the beach; he tried as hard as he could to push aside all the bad thoughts and enjoy a much deserved time with the love of his life. Too busy imagining stuff, Nikki didn’t realize that the water had hit him until he was already wet and cold, right in front of him stood Vince, a huge grin on his face.

Nikki didn’t think twice and grabbed him, making him fall into the water; soon after Vince grabbed his legs making him fall down too. They wrestled for a bit, trying to tickle each others or being general idiots before they noticed the sun setting.

“We should see it, it’s beautiful,” Nikki said, trying to stand up, but a big wave made him crush on top of Vince. The blond man didn’t think twice and started to kiss him.

“I’m looking at something even better,” he replied, and Nikki swore to God that if he was blushing, Vince would be dead.

“God, you’re so cheesy. C’mon, I want to see it”.

The boys returned to sit on the beach, this time Vince in Nikki’s arms, while the dark-haired man brushed his locks; it was such a nice view that Nikki felt happiness, maybe for the first time in a long time. Vince lifted his head to look at him and then smiled.God, how much Nikki loved that smile! The singer always had that charming smile, the one he would use to get all the ladies at his feet, but this one was different:: it was pure and full of love. That was the real smile of the real Vince Neil, not the cocky playboy singer but the sweet and caring boyfriend.

“Could we eat dinner here?” Nikki asked, pleading. God, since when had he become that soft?

“Yes,honey, but we have to shower first”.

The house they rented was not as big as their houses in LA but that didn’t matter. They decided to shower together and soon enough they started to throw foam at each other. Nikki always hated being too cheesy and letting himself go in a relationship but with Vince it was different, with Vince he could be a five-year-old who throws foam in the shower. Vince also found it so weird to actually care and want to say “I love you” as many times as he could, like he was doing at the moment; and, honestly, the singer was also surprised that Nikki could literally annoy him in every way but he’d still want to kiss him.

“We should go, I’m fucking starving!” Nikki said, grabbing the pre-made dinner and the picnic blanket.

“I’m not the one who started a foam war earlier,” the singer replied dramatically.

“C’mon, I don’t wanna miss the stars!” the bassist said, pulling the blond by the wrist. Then he started running, dragging the singer along.

When they arrived at the beach again, Nikki wasted no time in preparing everything. Vince thought he looked like a hyperactive child, but he loved it. He was aware of Nikki’s shitty childhood, and he was certainly not going to be a kill-joy.

“What?” the older man said, having noticed his boyfriend looking at him.

“You’re so cute!” Vince said, smiling.

“No, I’m not!” Nikki replied.

“What, are you scared that you are not going to be badass anymore if somebody finds out that you are soft?” the singer said, teasing him.

“I’m not cute!” he replied, trying to sound intimidating.

“Whatever you say, cutie. Now let’s eat, shall we?”

They couldn’t stop being idiots even while they were eating, with Vince constantly annoying Nikki and the other man trying to hide his smile and to look pissed off.

“Shit, man, they’re beautiful!”

“What?” Vince asked, a bit confused.

“The stars, dude. They are awesome!” the bassist replied, smiling.

“Maybe we should make a wish,” the younger man suggested.

“Wait, aren’t wishes only for shooting stars?” Nikki said, trying to suppress a laugh.

“We are Motley Crue, so we make the fucking rules! And I tell you to make a wish,” the singer announced proudly.

The older man started to think about his wish. In that moment it seemed like he had anything he could ever ask for: a beautiful boyfriend, a peaceful beach, and a much needed rest. He was really happy for once in his life, so what could he ever want more?

“I have everything here with me,” the bassist replied, looking Vince in the eyes.

“Urgh, you are a sappy bastard!” Vince said, smiling and then kissing Nikki gently. “But also, I love you too much to pretend I don’t like your sweet talk!”

“I love you too, Vince. And I’ll say it to you whenever I can,” the black-haired man added, yawning.

“Maybe it’s better if we return home, Mr Sixx.”

“Oh no, I just wanted to have sex on this beautiful beach!” Nikki teased.

“We have a whole week for that, hon.” Vince replied with his usual smirk and picked up the bassist bridal style.

“Wait, who are you? What have you done to my sex-addicted boyfriend?”

The younger man simply rolled his eyes and kept going towards their house. As soon as they touched the bed, Nikki yawned and he struggled to keep his eyes open. Then Vince simply undressed his boyfriend and himself before covering them both with soft sheets.

“Thank you so much.” Nikki replied softly, then he closed his eyes and he started snoring softly.

Vince followed him shortly after, a huge smile on his face when the older man nuzzled his neck.

Taglist: @malibubarbievince​ @themissloveeverything​ @slashscowboyboots​ @livingbreathingrocknroll​ @boraxisme​

[bandzrus]

My Kinda Lover (One-Shot)

The Dirt!Vince Neil x Reader

Masterlist

SUMMARY // requested by anonymous – Vince being shy around a girl, getting nervous and messing up a show when she’s there

NOTE // the year is 1981 btw, right before Motley Crue formed.  Uhg, I feel like Vince is so much harder to write than Nikki or Tommy, even though I love him.  

WORDS // 2905

TAGLIST // @mainly-me @shamelessobsessions @broken-pieces  @calspixie  @shouttatthedevill  @cigarettes-after-sexxx  @thatbandchick39  @buckyofthemyscira  @countrygirlswonderland  @kawennote09 @tommyfuckinlee @miserablecunt  @madsthegroupie  @livingforrt  @catsoo12  @whisky-a-go-go @motherloovebone @rysepieces98  @kickstartmyheartmc @voguesixx  @marvelismylifffe  @iluvmesomemarvelndc  @princesof-theuniverse

***

              It was a series of convoluted events that got you and Vince Neil together. Your brother was the leading cause of these events, and being the teasing older sibling that he was, he wasn’t ever going to let you forget it.  It started a month before it happened, when your brother finally stopped sleeping through his history class and saw Mandy.  New to school and therefore single, your brother was one of many bachelors who asked her out, all with no success.  Except your brother wasn’t a quitter, and he made it his personal mission to follow her around like a love-sick puppy opening doors for her, picking flowers, and going to every party she was invited to whether he was on the guest list or not.  And that’s how you wound up at Angie’s pool party.

              Angie was one of the most popular girls in your brother’s year and was notorious for throwing the best parties in LA.  Her parents both worked in big law firms and spent more of their time at the office than at home, which meant Angie had the run of the mansion.  It was never difficult to score an invite to one of these parties – as long as you’d never had an unpleasant run-in with Angie, you were welcome to help yourself to all the booze, bikinis, and pool floaties Angie had to offer.  You barely knew Angie and wouldn’t have gone to the party on your own accord, but your parents insisted your brother take you along since they were going out of town for the weekend and didn’t want you staying home alone too long even though you were plenty old enough to.  Your brother of course was going because Mandy was going.  And while you poked fun of him all the way there like the annoying little sister you were, it turned out to be one of the best things that ever happened to you.

                “If you’re wearing your speedo right now Jason,” you warned your brother. “I’m going to disown you.”

              “Chicks dig the speedo!”

              “No we don’t!”

              “Mandy won’t be able to resist me,” grinned Jason, gripping the wheel of his ’69 Mustang casually with one hand while his other hovered over the shifter.

              “You’re going to send her into shock.”

              “Shut up.”

              “I’m going to call the police and say there’s a guy exposing himself if you come out in your speedo,” you said, feet resting on the dash.  You tapped your fingers along to “Free Ride” by The Edgar Winter Group on the radio.

              “I swear to god, Y/N if you embarrass me in front of Mandy I’ll-“

              “You don’t need my help to do that, you’re perfectly capable of embarrassing yourself all on your own,” you chided.  “And your threats don’t scare me.”

              “I’ll tell mom and dad you were drinking.”

              “Jason, I’m twenty.”

              “Yeah, underage!  They’ll ground you.”

              “When they found out I drank at Hailey Anderson’s party in eleventh grade they didn’t care,” you pointed out.  “They’re not going to ground me now.”

              Your brother frowned and didn’t say anything for a moment, knowing you’d won the argument.

              “Fine, can we agree to just leave each other alone at this party then?”

              “I would like nothing more than to not associate myself with you,” you agreed.

              “I don’t want you fucking things up between me and Mandy, I think she’s finally coming around.”

              “If you say so,” you sighed, turning your head to look out the window at the passing California hills.  It was nearing the end of May and the perfect day for a pool party, and if you were being honest you were glad you were going to a place with a swimming pool.  It was hot as hell outside.

              Angie lived up on a hill, and as your brother pulled into the long driveway you could spot part of the Hollywood sign in the distance.

              “Come on, shitbird,” Jason called, pocketing his keys and swaggering up the path to Angie’s front door.  You could already hear the party in the backyard.

              “Coming asshat,” you snapped back.  Name-calling was nothing out of the ordinary with you two, and you’d probably been reprimanded more by your parents for that than any other bad deeds. Ringing the bell, the two of you waited patiently on Angie’s doorstep until she came to the door.

              “Hey Angie!” greeted Jason, putting on what he thought was his most charming smile.

              “Hi Jason.”

              Angie was blocking the doorway, one hand on her hip and the other on the doorframe.

              “We’re here for the party.”

              “Aw, Jason!  I thought we were selling Girl Scout cookies!” you whined, giving your brother your best pouty face.  It made Angie laugh.

              “I didn’t know you had a sister,” she mused, giving you a friendly smile. Jason just rolled his eyes and sighed, abandoning his smooth-guy act.

              “My parents forced me to bring her along – I made her swear she’d just sit in a corner with a beer or something.”

              “How old are you?”

              “Twenty.”

              “Did you bring a bathing suit?”

              “Yup,” you answered, flipping up your shirt to reveal your red bathing suit.

              “Want a beer?”

              “Love one.”

              “Come on in then,” smirked Angie, lifting her arm so you could get inside the house.  Jason made to follow you, but Angie blocked him off again.

              “Hey!” he protested, throwing his hands in the air.  “What gives Ang?”

              “Did you bring a bathing suit?” she inquired, eyeing your brother up and down critically.

              “He wore his speedo,” you informed her, giving Jason your best shit-eating grin.  He flipped you off.

              “A speedo huh?”

              “Chicks dig it.”

              You and Angie shared an understanding look before she turned back to your brother and lifted her arm to let him pass.

              “Thank you,” he scoffed, shooting daggers at you.  The two of you followed Angie through the house and out to the backyard where about forty other people your age were milling around drinking beer, smoking, laughing, or splashing in the pool.  Yup, a perfect day for a pool party.  You spotted Mandy first and smacked Jason on the arm to get his attention.

              “Try to not embarrass yourself too much,” you said.  “I’m grabbing a beer.”

              “Fuck off.”

              “Gladly.”

              Watching your brother shrug off his leather jacket and run a hand through his hair like some kind of preening bird, you rolled your eyes and then headed for the drinks table.

              “Just a beer thanks.”

              “Sure.”

              Handing you a cold one from a cooler full of ice, the guy running the table waved you off as a gaggle of girls came up to him.  Popping the cap off and taking a swig, the cold liquid felt especially good on a hot day.  You noted a few people your age milling around, but then something else caught your attention.  At the far side of the pool there was a drum kit and some other instruments set up. Taking another sip of your beer, you decided to wander over and investigate.  As you were making your way over trying to catch a glimpse of who exactly was about to play, music filled the air.  You recognized the song almost instantly.

              “You got my motor racin’

              I find my thoughts embracin' your every move

              I wanna set you reelin’

              I want to make you feel the way that I do

              And oh

              I been thinkin' 'bout you for so long

              I don't want to lose ya, you're my kinda lover

              My kinda lover

              My kinda lover

              My kinda lover!”

              It was “My Kinda Lover” by Billy Squier, accept it sounded better than the original which you hadn’t thought possible.  Elbowing your way through the crowd that had gathered, you finally spotted who exactly was playing.  Three long-haired brunettes on drums, keyboard, and guitar, and smack in the middle the hottest guy you’d ever seen.  Baby blond hair, tight white snake-skin leather pants, studded belt, jean jacket – he screamed rock star.  Your jaw dropped open.

              “Oh fuck me,” you muttered under your breath.  You couldn’t take your eyes off him; none of the girls crowded around the band could.  Totally mesmerized by the way he moved his hips, the longer you stared the less you realized you were drooling.

              “My kinda lover

              My kinda lover

              My kinda lover

              My kinda lover!”

              Leaning in close to a few of the ditsy blondes next to you to finish the last bout of chorus, the band wrapped up the song.  Cheering, whistling, and swooning, your good day had just turned into a great one.  And it was about to get even better.

              “Thank you, we are Rock Candy!” said the blond, giving the crowd a winning smile.  Blinking and shaking your head, you finally realized you had drool on your chin.  The blond singer glanced over at you and chuckled as you wiped the drool off with the back of your hand.

              “Shit!” you muttered, feeling yourself blush scarlet.  The crowd was starting to dissipate now that the band was abandoning their instruments in favour of cold booze, but a few of the girls were sticking around hoping for more.  When they realized the blond wasn’t paying them any attention and looking at you instead, you could hear them make a couple nasty remarks under their breath before they too wandered off.

              “Never had that before,” commented the singer, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand as he adjusted the mic stand with the other.

              “Hmm?”

              “I’ve never had a girl physically drool before,” he laughed.

              “I wasn’t-“

              “I dig it.”

              “Wha- really?  I’m totally embarrassed,” you confessed.

              “Yeah.  Makes me want to actually consider being a real rock star.”

              “I thought you already were.”

              “Really?”

              “What the fuck do you think?” you laughed lightly.  “I was drooling!”

              “Now, was that over the music or just over me?” the blond asked coyly, taking a step towards you and adjusting his pants.  You bit your lip.

              “Cocky son of a bitch, aren’t you?”

              “Been told that before.”

              “Both,” you answered honestly.

              “Want to get something to eat?”

              “I’d love to.”

              Swaggering back over to the drinks table, you started munching on chips while the singer asked for a beer.  You leaned your hip against the table and ignored the judgmental stares of other girls as you waited for the blond to pop the cap off his drink.  With a hiss, the metal cap came off and he took a rock star length swig of beer before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

              “Before I start calling you Drool Girl, mind telling me your name?”

              You laughed.

              “It’s Y/N,” you answered.

              “Vince.”

              “Well it’s a pleasure to meet you, Vince.”

              You bit a particularly large chip in half and then held the other half out to Vince.

              “Pleasure to meet you too,” he said, letting you feed him the chip.

              “What brings you around here, rock star?  I’ve never seen you before.”

              “Free booze,” Vince held up his bottle.  “Hot chicks.

              This time he gestured at you.

              “What about you?”

              “I came here with my idiot brother,” you confessed.

              “Oh?  Which one’s he?”

              “The one flexing his non-existent muscles for Mandy over there,” you pointed. Your brother looked like a total wad, taking turns gawking at Mandy and his own bicep.  Vince just laughed.  

              “He thinks he’s got game.”

              “You’re related to that guy?”

              “Unfortunately yes,” you sighed, turned back to the blond and taking a sip of the beer you’d forgotten was in your hand.  “He’s been going after her for a month now, you’d think he’d give up but no.”

              “She’s way out of his league.”

              “Oooh yeah!”

              “Does he have a cool car?”

              “Huh?”

              “Does he have a cool car at least?” asked Vince, taking another long swig of his drink.

              “Yeah, he drives a Mustang,” you frowned.

              “He taken her for a drive yet?”

              “Uuuh-“ just as you were about to reply no, you saw your brother grab Mandy’s hand and by the way he was gesturing you could tell that’s exactly what they were about to go do.

              “-I was gonna say no, but…” you pointed at the two of them with the head of your beer bottle.  The singer just laughed again.

              “Do you drive anything?”

              “I’ve got a 280z.”

              “Shit, really?” Vince asked, nearly choking on his beer.

              “Yeah.”

              “I’ve wanted one of those forever.”

              “Well, you’re gonna be a rock star, I’m sure you’ll be able to afford one in no time,” you giggled, twirling a bit of hair around your finger.

              “You really think I could be a rock star?”

              “Definitely,” you purred, taking a step towards him and fiddling with the hem of his jean jacket.  

              “Hey!  Vinny!”

              It was one of the other Rock Candy members calling for the singer. Turning his head, Vince gave a nod of acknowledgement.

              “Hurry up, we’ve got another song to do!”

              “Give me a minute, geezus!”

              “Hurry the fuck up, dude!”

              “Fuckin’ asshole,” muttered Vince, turning back to you.  “Sorry ‘bout that.  Can we finish this later?  Maybe over another one of these?” he held up his beer bottle before downing the rest of its contents.

              “I’d love that.”

              “Cool.”

              And with that the blond planted a flash of a kiss on your lips before nudging his way through the crowd.  Standing there stunned for a minute, it took a particularly loud scoff from a nearby girl to snap you out of it.  

              Eating another handful of chips and finishing off your beer, you decided it was high time you peel off your street clothes and strip down to your bathing suit.  The band had already started playing, and once again you recognized the song almost instantly.  It was Deep Purple’s “Highway Star”.  Balling up your t-shirt and shorts and tossing them under the nearest hedge where nobody would bother with them, you were about to shimmy your way back to Vince through the crowd when suddenly you had a better idea.  Grinning to yourself, you jumped into the pool.  Submerged, you were pleasantly surprised at how warm the water was.  The LA sun worked fast.  You swam towards the other end of the pool, only breaking for air when you came up on the other side.  Gripping the edge with one hand, you ran your other through your wet hair.  If you were doing this right, you looked like a damn model. The crowd still had a couple gaps in it and from your vantage point you could see the singer perfectly.

              “Nobody gonna take my car

              I'm gonna race it to the ground

              Nobody gonna beat my car

              It's gonna break the speed of sound

              Oooh it's a killing machine

              It's got everything

              Like a driving power big fat tires

              And everything!”

              Vince’s eyes met yours, just as you started making the move to get out of the pool.  Pushing yourself up chest first, you winked at him.  Your bathing suit left little the imagination and you knew it.  Sliding out of the pool with more grace than even you knew was possible, Vince’s singing started to falter.

              “I love it and I need it

              I bleed it

              Y-yeah it's a wild hurricane

              Alright hold t-tight

              I'm a highway star!”

              Smoothing your hair, you let the water run off your body as you smiled and bit your lip at him.  Maybe the red on the blond’s cheeks was from the heat or the singing, but you knew better.

              “N-nobody gonna take my girl

              I'm gonna keep h-her to the end

              Nobody gonna have my girl

              She stays close on every bend-d

              Oo-ooh she's a killing machine

              She's got everything

              Like a moving mouth body c-control

              And everything

              I l-love her I need her-“

              The band was getting annoyed with Vince, you could see it on their faces and even hear it in their playing.  More than just some of the catty girls were staring at you now.  A bunch of your brother’s colleagues were too, and of course Vince couldn’t keep his eyes off you.  He cut the chorus short, and the band started to trickle off, wrapping the song up before their singer butchered it too badly.  Vince let go of the microphone and gave an apologetic look at his bandmates before stepping into the crowd.  You were still standing near the edge of the pool, one hand absently playing with your wet hair.

              “I’m sorry, was I distracting you, rock star?” you asked, faking innocence. The blond wet his lips nervously, looking down at his feet for a brief moment before back up to you.

              “You did that on purpose,” he said plainly.

              “Maaaybe.”

              “First you drool for me, and now you’re getting wet for me.”

              You knew he was talking about a different kind of wet.

              “What are you going to do about it?” you asked him, lifting an eyebrow.

              “Give me your number and you’ll find out.”

              “Fine.  Got a pen?”

              Vince looked back at one of his band buddies for a pen.  Thankfully one of them had one.  You took it and then grabbed Vince’s hand in yours.  Using your teeth to pull the cap off, you carefully scrawled your number onto the singer’s wrist.

              “There,” you finished, letting go and recapping the pen.  “Use it.”

              “Oh I will,” promised Vince.  “Especially now that I know you’ve got a 280z.”

***

Uhg, I’m so sorry this took so long for me too finish, it’s not even that long and I liked the concept.  Next on my list is part 10 of TNFT, but I may take another break soon and work on some more of my requests.  I hope this didn’t suck too much and let me know if you want to be tagged in anything!

[xsixxx]

Bad Influence, Chapter Three

Authors note: I have had the best time getting dark & weird & really over the top with Nikki towards the end of this chapter, I really hope you all enjoy it!

ps if you think you know what happens after this, you definitely don’t 😏

Warnings: Language, drug use, Nikki being a dick as per, some serious sexual tension

Tags: @triplehaitches @freddiessmallnipples @fire-and-blood-got @scarecrowmax @lovesick-heart0 @littlesunnymoon @80sheart-strings @cranberribread @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies @deaconsroger

Summer ‘82

“Well, well, if it isn’t Elizabeth fucking Reynolds, the one that got away.” Laughed the beautiful blonde, as he waltzed up to the bar & leaned over to smack my ass, smiling from ear to ear.

“Oh my god, is that Vince fucking Neil, the worst kiss I ever had?” I smirked, “How the hell have you been rockstar?” I asked, genuinely happy to see him, grabbing him his usual drink.

“I’ve been touring Canada, singing, partying & fucking every single night, how the fuck do you think I’ve been?” Vince laughed, “Although, it’s nice to come home to your fine self.” He added, winking & taking the beer I handed to him. “We weren’t too sure if you’d still be working here.”

“Yep, still got rent to pay, Vinny! I think I’ll be working behind this bar for the rest of my days at this rate. I miss the old days of living with Daddy, when everything was paid for & taken care of,” I sighed jokingly.

“Well I’ll tell you what, you come live with me & I’ll be your new Daddy & I’ll take care of you.” He drawled, stroking the side of my face. I scoffed, moving away from his touch.

“Excuse me, you blonde haired bitch, I know you’re not trying to convince my roommate to move out to go live in that disgusting ‘Mötley House’ you degenerates live in, right?” Came the sharp, witty voice of my best friend, Sophia.

“You can join too babe, you know Tommy would love to have you there.” Vince said laughing, eyeing her up & down.

“Where is my drummer boy anyway?” Quizzed Sophia, looking towards the door of the famous Whisky A-Go-Go, waiting for him to burst in with his usual energy.

“Oh they’re on there way, Nikki was arguing with the bouncer outside, something to do with us not being on the list. I slipped in when they weren’t looking because I couldn’t wait to see your beautiful face.” He said, flashing that killer smile at me.

“Lets hope they don’t fucking let him in.” I said, ignoring Vinces cheesy compliment. I was used to them by now. A few months after the Nikki-Maddie incident, I moved out to finish my final year of school as a fully fledged, independent adult. I met Sophia through an ad she put out, looking for a roommate & we hit it off immediately. We lived just off the Sunset Strip & Soph got me a job working with her at the Whisky. It still wasn’t my scene but money is money &, turns out, being an independent adult ain’t cheap. Of course, Mötley Crüe were regulars, playing shows & partying there all the time &, as much as the sensible part of me hated to admit it, I’d grown to kinda like them. I’d become a chase for Vince, who was convinced he could charm me into bed like he does every other girl, although he definitely wasn’t getting anywhere. Meanwhile, Sophia & Tommy had a no-strings-attached thing going on, although Sophia had that going on with a lot of band members that played at the Whisky. She definitely had a type.

Hanging out with Mötley Crüe was fun, but I still didn’t party like they did. And I definitely still hated Nikki fucking Sixx.

“Sophia, Beth! How’re my favourite barmaids?” Tommy yelled, bounding up to us like a gangly, excited puppy who’d just seen that their owner’s home. “I’m so glad you’re both here, Nikki was convinced you wouldn’t still be working here by the time we came back off tour!”

Speaking of the Devil, he was purposely stood at the other end of the bar, being served by someone else as to not have to interact with me. Our hatred was very much mutual, only speaking to each other when we had to &, more often than not, it ended up in an arguement. He looked up when Tommy mentioned his name, shooting him a look before making eye contact with me. He tipped his bottle of Jack at me, before flashing that arrogant smirk he knew I despised.

“T-Bone, it’s good to see you man! You too Mick,” I smiled warmly at the eldest Mötley member, who nodded at me as he swigged from that hip flask he always had on him. “How was the tour guys?”

“Fucking INSANE” yelled Tommy, “we kicked Canada’s ass!”

“So when do you girls finish?” Vince asked, eyeing us both up & biting his lip slightly. Me & Sophia looked at each other & laughed.

“In about 10 minutes.” Sophia answered. “So I know you’ve been on tour & all of those drugs have probably scrambled your brain, but you know Beth’s still won’t sleep with you, right Vince? She’s practically a nun at this point!”

“I am not!” I yelled, laughing, swinging the dirty dishcloth I had in Sophias direction as she tried to dodge it.

“Well how about a little holy water to loosen you up doll face,” winked Vince as her lent over the bar & swiped a bottle of vodka & some shot glasses, pouring out 4 & gesturing for me, Soph & Tommy to take one each. I shook my head as the other 3 knocked them back. “Guys, you know I don’t drink like you do!”

Nikki was walking past & stopped when he heard me say that. “Same old stuck up Lizzy, still too fucking good to drink with us.” He looked at me, that smirk playing on the corner of his lips. I knew he was trying to provoke me, but it worked. I picked up the shot of vodka &, without breaking eye contact with him, downed it in one.

“Yes Beth, that’s my girl!” Yelled Vince as Tommy stole the bottle from his hands & poured out 4 more.

“Now let’s see you do that twice in a row, Reynolds!” Yelled Tommy. I picked up the shot glass, tipped it to Nikki who was staring at me from under his lashes, the irritation flashing in his green eyes & knocked it back. “What’s wrong Sixx, you too good to drink with us now?” I asked, my voice fake & patronising as I offered him a shot.

“Fucking groupie.” He scorned as he stormed off to a booth. I laughed out loud at his tantrum & turned my attention back to the 3 boys & Sophia.

“So Beth, now that your shifts finished & you’re a couple of shots in, let’s see how fun you’re feeling,” teased Tommy, “I dare you to do a body shot off of Vince.”

I rolled my eyes, ready to decline, before I caught sight of Nikki, still glaring at me from his booth.

“Ok Tommy, you’ve got a deal. But only if you do one off of Sophia,” I bargained.

“Babe, I’d have done that for fucking free!” He laughed, jumping over the bar to Sophia. “Doll, lie your ass down on that bar,” shouted Tommy, as Sophia, up for anything as per usual, obliged & got on the bar. Tommy balanced a shot glass full of tequila on Sophia’s chest, poured out a line of salt across her breast & placed a slice of lime in between her teeth. Then he winked at her before slowly licking the salt off her body, expertly downing the shot & sucking the lime from her mouth. Tommy stood back up, looking pleased with himself, a huge beaming smile on his face. “Your turn Beth!”

“Ok Vinny, let’s get this over with,” I laughed. He jumped up on the bar, pouring the shot of tequila himself, lying down & placing it just above the waist band. I glared at him. “You’ve got to be kidding, come on man!” I whined.

“Nope, that’s the rules Beth, sorry!” said Tommy, pouring out the salt parallel to the line of hair leading down from Vinces navel to beneath those too-tight leather trousers that left nothing to the imagination. “& for the final touch..” Tommy howled with laughter as he placed the slice of lime on the Vinces clearly outlined member. Sophia giggled hysterically as Vince tried to stifle his laughter as to not spill to shot glass resting on his stomach.

“Drink up Beth!” Giggled Tommy.

“Guys, come on!” I complained, half grumbling, half laughing. A couple of shots of vodka to someone that doesn’t drink can have quite the effect & I could already feel my usually prominent sensibilities slipping as I gave into the idea of having fun. I looked at the grinning faces of Vince, Tommy, Soph & even Mick. Fuck it, I thought. Just before I bent my head down to Vinces crotch, I made eye contact with Nikki, who’s stare was fixed on me. I winked at him & smirked before licking the salt from off of Vinces toned body, grabbing the shot glass & downing the tequila, & placing my lips around the lime, applying the tiniest bit of purposeful pressure as I sucked on it, making eye contact with Vince as I did.

I let go of the lime, stood up & laughed, letting myself actually enjoy the situation before I realised my tongue felt sort of numb. I moved it around my teeth to see if I could regain any sensation. I frowned &, as I did so, Tommy & Vince burst into a fit of giggles.

“What’s so funny, assholes?” I asked, slurring my words slightly due to the lack of feeling in my mouth

“How’re you feeling Beth?” Asked Vince, sitting up & snorting with laughter.

“I feel pretty good to be honest, I think I’m starting to feel those shots, except my mouth feels kinda weird..”

“I don’t think it’s the shots you’re feeling babe”, giggled Tommy, covering his mouth to try & muffle himself.

“What are you on about?” I demanded. Why couldn’t I feel my tongue?! The feeling was spreading the the back of my throat & I started to panick that I was perhaps allergic to something I’d just ingested. And then it hit me.

“You fucking idiots! Have I just licked coke off of Vinces fucking stomach?!” I yelled.

Vince & Tommy collapsed onto each other in fits of giggles as I looked horrified between Sophia, who looked mildly concerned, but mostly amused, & Mick, who was shaking his head at the boys before looking up at my worried face.

“You’re gonna be fine Beth, you’ve only had one line & you haven’t snorted it. You’ll feel it a bit but nothing intense.” He promised, patting my hand & giving me a reassuring look.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, as my head started to feel a little strange. Not bad, but different. I was focused & alert, like I’d drank a good, strong coffee, but at the same time, I suddenly felt at ease & like a blanket of calm had been draped over me. I wanted to be mad & scream at Tommy & Vince for being so damn irresponsible, but the blanket wouldn’t let me. I didn’t want to do cocaine, but I wasn’t hating it either.

“You pair of mother fuckers!” I yelled, punching them both in the arm.

“But don’t you feel good though?” Winked Vince, seeing that I’d visibly relaxed into the mild high.

“Well, it’s not as bad as I thought..” I admitted, “But I mean it, don’t ever fucking do that to me again.” I said seriously, giving them both a stern look. They each appeared a little sheepish.

“I’m sorry Beth, we didn’t think it was a big deal, honestly!” Tommy offered, sounding genuinely sincere.

“Sorry doll, just thought you could do with having some fun & letting loose..” Vince mumbled. I shook my head at both of them, to wrapped up in this strange new feeling to commit to my anger.

I was scanning around the room when I happened to look over at Nikki, who was obviously flirting with a pretty brunette in a black pvc dress. He was stroking along her collarbone with his index finger, whilst his lips brushed against her ear as he whispered to her. I suddenly had this burst of confidence surge through me & I marched over to them.

“Sweetie, from one girl to another, he’s going to fuck you & break your heart. Yeah the sweet nothings he’s whispering in your ear sound tempting now, but once he’s had his fill.. or you’ve had his fill, I guess..” I babbled, the coke doing me no favours. “He’s going to throw you out & move on to the next. Don’t be one of those girls. You can do better than him anyway, you’re way hotter than he is.” I shrugged, flashing her a smile. She looked taken aback & glanced up at Nikki for reassurance but his anger was evident & she quickly shuffled away from him.

I sat down in the booth, opposite him, folded my hands across my chest & sat back, holding his glare. “She seemed nice,” I smiled.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” He fumed.

“What? I’m just trying to save yet another girl from your twisted little games so they don’t get played like my sister. I like to think of myself as the angel that stops people from getting tempted by the devil.” I mused.

“You think I’m the devil?” Nikki asked, amusement breaking down the anger in those green eyes as that infamous smirk tugged on his lips.

“Basically, yes.” I said, my confidence wavering slightly under the intensity of his stare.

He let the smirk take over his face as he relaxed back into the seat & causally rested his arm along the backboard of the booth. “So tell me, Lizzy, why am I the devil?”

“For the hundredth time, my name is Beth. It’s not Lizzy. And you really don’t know why?!” He shrugged, looking intrigued & uniterested all at the same time. “Because you manipulate people, Sixx! You tempt girls in with that smirk & arrogance & they fall for it, meanwhile having no idea they’re dancing with the devil & you’re only going to leave them heartbroken. You have no regard or respect for anyone, you only love yourself.” I stated, feeling the weight of that stare, but not once breaking eye contact with him. The coke was making me brave & I couldn’t stop. “You have a dark heart, Nikki Sixx.”

His smirk was from ear to ear. “You’re fucking hot as hell when you talk to me like that.”

I faltered, his statement catching me off guard. I inwardly chastised myself for the spark of desire that his words momentarily ignited somewhere deep inside me. That was not me.

“You know, you’re one of the only girls that’s never tried hard to win my interest.”

“I’ve never tried to win your interest, Nikki. It’s called having dignity.” I scoffed, annoyed by the cocky look on his face.

“I know. It’s irritatingly sexy.”

“Well, that’s too bad. I didn’t trust or like you before you screwed over my sister & I like & trust you even less now. I know better than to fall for your tricks & lines. Remember, according to you, I’m the stuck up posh girl with the education & the clean lifestyle & you’re the dark & edgy rockstar with the sordid life & the makings of a drug habit. I’m the angel & your the devil.” I taunted, flashing a smirk of my own.

Nikki leaned across the table to me, his face so close I could feel his hot breath on my face, smell the whisky on his lips. His eyes pierced mine, looking at me with a mixture of disliking & desire. He smiled “But there’s a little bit of devil in your angel eyes, I can see it.” He whispered. A shiver ran down my spine. He noticed & he smirked wider, leaning in closer, so our lips brushed lightly. “And you inspire the Devil in me, Lizzy.”

My heart raced, my knees went weak & my skin crawled. I couldn’t tell in that moment if I craved him or was repulsed by him. Every inch of me screamed to push him away, to yell at him, to stop whatever was happening. But for that brief moment as his seductive words lingered in the space between our lips, that spark of desire I had felt had turned into a raging fire, engulfing my better judgement. All I wanted was to feel his lips on mine, to taste his arrogance & fall pray to his devilsh temptation.

“Ahem.”

Oh thank god.

The judgemental, fake cough from my best friend snapped me back into reality & relief washed over me as I immediately moved away from Nikki, embarrassed & frustrated with myself. Nikki casually leaned back, draping his arm around the back of the booth once again, looking conceitedly at Sophia, as she stood with her hands on her hips, looking at me with intense disapproval.

“Come on Beth, we’ve gotta go collect our wages.” She said cuttingly, throwing a snide look at Nikki before stalking off, back towards the bar.

I stood up, regaining composure, refusing to look back at Nikki. I could feel the smirk without even seeing it. I went to walk away without a word when he grabbed my hand & pulled me back, so I stumbled & fell on to his lap. He entangled his fingers into my hair & pulled me in so his lips were against my ear.

“There’s something dangerously attractive about dancing with the devil. It’s truly going to be heaven dragging you down to hell with me, Princess.”

[niksixx]

My Son the Matchmaker

Requested: Yes, by a lovely Anon!

Pairing: The Dirt! Mick Mars x Reader 

Description: You take your 13 year old son to a Mötley Crüe concert and catch the eye of Mick Mars 

*Picture is NOT mine. Found on Google. Credit to the owner.*

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

“Come on, mom! We’re going to be late!” screamed Noah, your thirteen year old son. He was impatiently waiting at the front door of your house, and you had never seen your boy so excited for a concert. Mötley Crüe were on tour, and one of the first stops was your hometown of New York City. Noah had been obsessed with the rock band ever since they released their hit single “Shout at the Devil.” It wasn’t your type of music, but you found yourself singing along to a few of the songs whenever Noah blasted them through his stereo.

When Noah had opened the tickets for Christmas, he practically tackled you in a bone crushing hug. Going to a concert should have been something Noah and his father could do, but you cut off contact with your son’s father three months after giving birth to your baby boy. He was unfit to be a father, and you would rather raise your son alone than have a man put in half-assed effort. Noah deserved the world, and you’d give it to him one way or another.

~~~

Noah’s eyes lit up as you took your seats. Your baby deserved the world like you’d said before, and you knew just by the look on his face you’d earned the title of “Mom of the Year” when you sat down two rows from the stage.

The opening act was decent, but you and Noah were itching for Mötley Crüe to take the stage. When the lights dimmed and loud music erupted through the arena, Noah grabbed your arm, shooting you the widest smile, and the both of you began screaming along with Vince Neil as he sang effortlessly through the microphone.

All of the band members were surprisingly good looking, but man the dark haired guitarist had caught your eye as soon as he took his place by his microphone. He wasn’t tall, nor was he as hyper as the lead singer or drummer, but you found his focused demeanor endearing. He loved performing, it was clear as day.

Not realizing you had been staring at Mick Mars, you offered a smile as he looked down at you, grinning back. He couldn’t have been much older than you were, and he was the most attractive man you’d seen in a very long time.

“Uh, mom? You’re drooling,” said Noah, snickering beside you. “Someone has a crush.”

“Oh, stop it, Noah.” Hesitantly, you wiped the corner of your mouth, rolling your eyes as your son laughed beside you. Mick had come closer to the two of you, also chuckling as he watched your reaction. You gave him a shy smile as you watched him play, and it seemed as if he stood in front of you and Noah for the rest of the concert.

The finale was something that couldn’t be described as anything other than incredible. The music had gotten louder, the lights were a flickering rage, and fire was shooting out from various parts of the stage. It had been an incredible concert, and spending it with Noah had only made it better. Well, that, and the fact that Mick Mars hadn’t taken his eyes off you since the middle of the concert. Part of you tried convincing yourself he wasn’t actually looking at you, but every time you looked up on the stage, his blue eyes were trained on your face, never missing a beat on his guitar.

~~~

As you were walking out of the venue a security guard came running over, flailing his arms to grab your attention. “Miss! Oh, Miss! Thank Jesus you haven’t left yet.”

You eyed the security guard warily, making sure Noah stayed beside you. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Is it alright if I bring you back stage for a minute? Mick Mars requested to see you, if you’re up for it.”

“Um,” It was long and drawn out as you nervously eyed your son. “I don’t think—.”

“She would love to.” Noah chirped, giving you a little encouraging push.

“Right this way, Miss.”

~~~

Was this a dream? Were you really on your way to meet the lead guitarist of Mötley Crüe? This night was supposed to be about you and Noah, not you meeting some rockstar backstage. Noah didn’t seem to mind one bit as he talked the security guard’s ear off, begging to meet Vince Neil.

“This is Mick’s room,” The guard nodded toward the plain white door as he led Noah down the hall to a door that read “Vince Neil.”

Knocking on the door skeptically, you pushed it open slightly, jumping back when the door swung open, revealing the guitarist himself. Mick was still in his stage costume, but he had wiped most of the makeup from his face.

“I didn’t think you’d show up,” he said with twinkling eyes. “You’re even more beautiful up close. Come in, I’m Mick.”

It had been a long time since a man had longed for your attention and complimented you before you had the opportunity to introduce yourself. For years, you wouldn’t let yourself get close or intimate with the men you dated. It was always you and Noah, no need for a man.

“Thank you.” You stepped into his room shyly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Mick motioned toward the couch and you sat on the opposite end, careful not to sit too close. You didn’t know what his intentions were, and you weren’t sure you were comfortable finding out either.

“Hey, are you okay?” Scooting closer, Mick placed a gently hand on your arm. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” His smile was wary.

“No, I just…I haven’t really…” Gathering your thoughts, you turned your body toward Mick. “Is there a reason you asked to see me?”

“Of course,” Mick said happily, and then his cheeks reddened. He was nervous. “Well, beside thinking you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve laid eyes on, I’d actually like to get to know you better. Maybe I could give you my number and we could get dinner sometime?”

Biting your lip, you shook your head. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. You see, I have a son—.”

“Uh, that’s totally a good idea,” Noah said from the hallway, eyes bright with excitement. “Look, Ma! Tommy Lee gave me his drumsticks from tonight’s show and Vince signed my shirt! I tried to see Nikki but Vince said he was ‘busy’ in his dressing room, whatever that means.”

You and Mick erupted into a fit of laughter, which caused Noah to laugh as well. “Anyway, I’m Noah, and my mom would love to go to dinner with you.”

“Noah,” You warned, eyeing your son carefully. He put his hands up in defense before sprinting down the hall. Facing Mick, you were met with a timid smile, and out of nowhere a burst of confidence overcame your body. “Look, I um, I haven’t dated in a while, but you seem sweet and I could never say no to dinner.”

Smiling, you exchanged numbers with Mick before sauntering over to the door. “How about I pick you up Friday? Five sound okay?”

“That sounds perfect,” Noah grinned, peeking his head in. Wrapping your arm around his shoulder, you gave him a sloppy kiss on his cheek, chuckling as Noah grimaced. “Aw, c’mon, Ma, not in front of a rockstar.”

Kissing your hand, Mick shot you one last wink before you took off with Noah down the hall. The guard escorted you out to the parking lot, and you eagerly ran to your car with your son, still buzzing with the adrenaline from the concert.

“Mom, Mick Mars has a crush on you,” Noah said, climbing into the passenger’s seat. “And I know you like him too, so you are going on that date.”

The more Noah talked about Mick and the band, the more excited you were to get to know them all. And maybe with the help of your son, the matchmaker, you and Mick could blossom into something a little more permanent. 

[orangefoxes]

As much as he loved the family he had made among the foxes, Neil couldn't help but think them naive. After finding out the truth about his past, they still held tight to him, comforting him. Maybe they wouldn't have if they had known more of the story. He thinks about Andrews 'I won't be like them, I won't let you let me be' and wishes he had had that attitude when he was young, because Neil had long since let his mum turn him into something more like them.

Nathaniel was eleven years and four months old when he met Noah Muller. He and his mother were going by Lana and Chris Meyer, and Chris had been enrolled in a school in Zürich. Since Chris and Noah were the only two in their class with a surname beginning with M, they were almost always sat next to each other in their classes, which inevitably led to them being paired together for any group work. Noah was new to the area, having moved from Basel, just like Chris was (of course he wasn't new like Chris was) and was clearly looking to make friends. Chris held out for a few weeks before Nathaniels aching lonliness shone through his new identity to much for him to ignore and he made his first proper friend since Kevin Day.

Noah was a nice boy, he was the kind of sweet that made adults coo, the type of boy to gently pick a bug up in his hands and take it outside rather than squishing it under the sole of his shoe. Chris had never met someone like him before. They started to play tag during break time and he even invited Chris over I his house - his mum was feeling comfortable enough in their new identities that sometimes she'd even let him go (it helped that it made them appear more 'normal'). He shared meaningless conversations with Noah, or the sort that seem meaningless to an adult but so important to a child, like their favourite things and what they would want to be when they grow up. Noah would hug Chris hello and goodbye and his face would light up when he saw him and drop when it was time for Chris to leave. (Chris had never had someone look happy to see him and sad to see him go before). Sometimes Noah would look at Chris from below his lashes and hold his hand, though he always dropped it when someone else could see. Chris didn't really understand, but he liked the contact nonetheless.

Noah's hair was the same brown that Chris had died his to, though his eyes were brown too, not like the green contacts that Chris was wearing.

After being friends for four months, the two of them were walking through the Alstadt, chatting about school work and Noah's excitement for his new sibling who was sure to arrive any day now, when Chris caught sight of someone uncomfortably familiar.

Lola.

It had been over a year since he had seen her, but he still felt the family stab of fear deep in his stomach. She was leaning against a nearby wall, a newspaper in her hand, but her eyes were trained on him. When she caught him looking, she gave him a sharp feral grin that reminded him of his father. He looked away. She couldn't be the only here. Afte all, it was rare you would see her without-

Yep, just a across the way Chris could see Romero in wait. Surely there would be others too but Chris new it would look too suspicious to be looking around for them.

"Are you okay?" Noah asked with a tilt of his head.

"Y-yeah, yeah, of course" Chris replied, his brains scrambling for something he could do. Anything. "Hey, why do you mind if we nip in here?" He asked, gesturing to the book store to their left.

Noah, sweet Noah, obviously agreed. "I thought you weren't big on reading?" He asked as they entered.

Chris gave what he hoped was a casual shrug as he pretended to browse, but was really keeping an eye on the window. He couldn't see Lola or Romero right outside, but he knew they would still be close.

"My mums birthday is coming up and I can't think what to get her," he replied.

"Oh! Yeah, presents are difficult. Luckily my mum is easy though, I just get her flowers because she loves them. Only the potted ones though, she thinks it's cruel to pick them" Noah said, looking at the books more thoughtfully now, because of course he was going to try and help.

Chris had no trouble believing that of Noah's mum. It's clear where Noah got his sweet kindness.

"Hey I really like your coat by the way," Chris said. "think I can try it on? I might ask my mum for one for christmas. You can try mine on too if you want?"

"Sure!" Noah agreed with a laugh and began to pull his jacket off. He laughed again once they'd switch. "Do I look like you?" He asked, swallowing his smile to try and put on the serious expression Chris knew he often wore, but couldn't quite manage it.

"Hmm, almost," Chris said and he pulled of his cap and put it on Noah's head. "Now you do," he said and hoped the words came out steady, because he felt sick and he had to shove his hands in Noah's coat pockets to stop them from shaking. He must have managed it because Noah just grinned.

"I don't think I see anything my mum would want," Chris said, before forcing a grin and saying, "race you to the Limmat!"

He made for the door, and Noah shouted "you're on!" And darted past him. Chris' fake grin fell off his face as soon as Noah's back was to him and he watched as Lola, Romero and several other men moved from their casual positions to quickly follow. Chris waited for them to pass him before quickly heading in the other direction and breaking into a run when he could.

It didn't take him long to reach the apartment he and his mum were staying in - she may let him go out with Noah but she never let him go far. She was relaxing in front of the tv when he burst in, but was immediately on alert. She didn't wait for an explanation as to what happened, just trusting his panic and throwing his duffel at him to urge him to pack the few things he had removed. She reassembled her gun from the coffee table and shoved it in the waist band of her jeans. All in all it took them under five minutes to get everything and get out of there to the cheap car his mum had brought in cash upon arrival to Switzerland. It was in the car that she demanded the explanation but for a minute, Chris couldn't talk. "Abram, Abram, tell me what happened" she demanded, the German was gone and she had reverted back to her Natural british.

Nathaniel explained. His own voice beginning to mimic his mothers, though there was still a slight American twang to his words. As he explained his use of Noah in his escape, his mother had to thrust a plastic bag at him as he began to throw up. When he was done, his mother let go of the wheel with one hand an fisted it in his hair, yanking hard enough for Nathaniel to cry out.

"Don't feel guilty about this," she snapped. "You did what you had to do, so don't feel guilty. Nothing slows you down like guilt"

Nathaniel nodded. She kept the painful grip on him for a moment, taking her eyes off the road to look at him shrewdly to check that he understood. When she finally released him, he turned to stare out the window. He thought: I will never forgive myself for this.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Heart Of Gold

Sam x Reader

Word Count: 2980? I have no idea how that happened, this was supposed to be ~1k.

Warnings: Angst. Somewhat sexy but not super-explicit stuff. Sam being called a cupcake. No, but seriously, it’s sad. 

A/N: For @impala-dreamer‘s Titles Are Hard Challenge! Thanks to the amazing @atwistoffate for her angst expertise/brainstorming help. 

The title is from the Neil Young song. It’s referenced obliquely, but it also just sorta sets the mood. 

When Sam remembers her, he remembers the summer they met. He was fourteen and she was thirteen, and he remembers thunder and the taste of salt and the thin cotton of her pillowcase under his cheek.

Her dad drops her off in the junkyard and she stomps away, and Sam gets a quick impression of a skinny little thing with her backpack slung over her shoulder and holes in her jeans. He tries to introduce himself as she passes him, but she rolls her eyes with a fury that makes him cringe, and he lets her go.

They circle around each other for the whole week she stays there. Sam has trouble looking at her for too long; it feels like looking straight into the sun. Sometimes he finds her staring at him like he’s a puzzle, something to be analyzed and put back together, but when he meets her eyes she always scurries out of the room before he can try to talk to her.

One day, when the rain comes down thick and hard and chases him inside, he goes upstairs to retreat to his room. He’s tiptoeing past her open door when he sees her, curled on her bed, her cheeks covered in tear tracks.

He slides in silently, not sure what to say, worried she’ll shatter or maybe just scream if he makes a sound. He sits down at the foot of the bed and waits, and when she doesn’t immediately tell him to fuck off, he lies down, facing her, watching another tear bead in the corner of her eye and roll over the bridge of her nose.

“My dad didn’t even tell me where he was going this time,” she says, and in spite of the tears, her voice is steady and furious.

He remembers watching a sitcom, one of those syrupy-sweet ones, and in one episode the little girl had fallen off her bike and skinned her knee, and the mother had smoothed a band-aid over it gently, and then kissed it, even more gently, “To make it all better.”

She looks like her world is one big skinned knee in that moment, and so Sam leans forward and kisses her, butterfly-soft, tasting the traces of tears left on her lips. He pulls away as soon as he realizes what he’s done, and she’s staring at him, smiling, like he’s shocked her out of her brokenness.

“What was that for?” she asks.

“Trying to make it better,” he mumbles, and it sounds painfully stupid when he says it out loud, but she’s still smiling, radiant and dazzling. He kisses her again, and the way her lip pillows between his makes him finally understand why kissing was invented in the first place.

Her dad picks her up the next day, of course, before Sam can work up the courage to suggest they keep in touch.

The next time he sees her is two years later. She’s sitting on the steps of Bobby’s house eating a popsicle, and her lips and teeth are stained blue when she grins up at him. Sam can’t breathe for what feels like a very long time.

It takes them a few days of circling nervously again, one ducking their head when the other smiles, trying to hide the way they’re blushing, but Sam eventually kisses her again. They curl into each other on the lumpy twin bed and kiss until Sam is dizzy and breathless, and a few days later, they lose their virginity together on that same narrow bed, fumbling and touching and exploring until Sam feels like there are lightning bolts in his stomach and crashes of thunder in his ribcage.

He scribbles his number down on a scrap of paper and slides it into her hand when he hugs her goodbye. She calls him, sometimes. They’re always shy at first, not sure what to say, and then words come easier and easier until Sam can’t get them out fast enough, and they always end up talking for hours, sharing more words than Sam says in the rest of the month combined.

The calls happen less and less, though. And then he tells her about Stanford, about getting out, and there’s not much left to say, then, because they both know it’ll be goodbye.

He thinks about her, sometimes. Sometimes he sees a smile that reminds him of hers, and his heart jumps into his throat. But mostly he’s busy, and he has Jess, and then Dean comes along and there’s the whole thing where they’re busy sorta accidentally causing the apocalypse… Besides, he’s pretty sure she doesn’t want to talk to him. She would’ve called, otherwise, right?

It doesn’t surprise him, though, when he walks into Asa’s and sees her. It startles him, makes him go hot and cold all over, but it doesn’t surprise him, because some part of him always figured they’d find their way back to each other. It feels inevitable.

She’s standing by the stereo, flipping through the CD collection, when Sam walks in. It takes him a few seconds to connect that smile, those lush curves, with the girl he’d met and her popsicle-stained teeth and her skinny arms, and then something in his stomach swoops like he’s missed a step going down the stairs. Someone is trying to talk to him but it sounds like the buzzing of a gnat, and he can’t take his eyes off the way she’s tilting her head, eyeing one of the CD cases with her bright eyes in a way that reminds him of a bird. The lamp just behind her illuminates her hair in a little halo of gold.

She shifts her weight from side to side as she puts in the CD, and Sam can’t help but stare at the soft curves of her hips, the grace in the way she moves. She puts on Harvest, and he can remember the day she first introduced him to Neil Young; Sam had made some comment about how terrible his voice was, and she threatened to break his nose.

When she turns around and catches him staring her eyes go wide and shocked, and for a long moment Sam is scared she’ll just turn back around and pretend she hasn’t seen him. Maybe she doesn’t want to see him. Maybe she really has forgotten him.

Instead, though, she smiles (and still, after all these years, it’s like staring into the sun) and walks over to him slowly, and before he can think of anything to say she’s hugging him, molding herself against his chest, and they still fit together so perfectly, and he would swear her hair smells like summer rain.

They sit down and catch up. The words don’t matter so much; it’s more about the expressions that flicker across her face and the way she squeezes his hand when he talks about Bobby’s death. He’s in love with her all over again by the time the album is over. Later, after the ordeal with the demon and the awkwardness of introducing her to his mother, he kisses her goodnight. Her arms twine around his neck and his thumb rubs gentle little circles in the hollow behind her ear, and they make plans to meet up again the next day.

Maybe it’s the history between them, the innocence of those first clumsy kisses in the thick summer air, but when they spend the night together again it’s so pure and sweet and breathtaking that Sam feels like he’s sixteen again. He wants to spend hours just touching her, trying to relearn the contours of her body, feeling this new way they fit together, all her curves melting against the planes and angles of him. He wants to spend hours kissing her, soft and languid, parting his lips to let her lick into his mouth while his hands cup her cheeks reverently. But she rocks forward against him, reminds him how achingly hard he is already, and the kiss deepens into something blistering-hot and needy, and everything sort of just speeds up and goes hazy. When she’s finally naked there’s none of the shyness he remembers, just her eyes fluttering closed and her ragged breath and her hands gripping his shoulders, silently asking him for more.

In some ways, everything’s different. He knows what he’s doing, now, knows the mechanics of how to touch her, but none of his experience could ever prepare him for the reality of what she looks like when he touches her, the rosy-red O of her mouth and the way she shakes and shudders when he crooks his fingers. She’s so goddamn beautiful, and Sam feels the same way he did that first night, his head spinning and his nerve endings singing, so overwhelmed he can barely see straight when he slides into the incredible slick heat of her.

Sam remembers her often, whenever he’s reminded of love or how things could’ve been.

Dean and Donna finally get married; took them long enough. Sam’s happy for them, so fucking happy it almost eclipses every other thought, but when he listens to the vows he gets choked up without warning. She’s still the only person he can imagine saying those words to.

When he closes his eyes he can almost see her there at the altar. She would want sunflowers in her bouquet, he knows that much. She might not go for the traditional white dress; she always refused to wear white, because she was so damn clumsy it never stayed white, and she was never much for tradition anyway. He can almost smell her, too, but smell is such a strange shifting unreliable thing to remember, and he always gets her perfume mixed up with the smell of summer rain falling on the dusty ground outside Bobby’s house.

When Sam remembers her, he remembers the little things. He remembers slow-dancing in the kitchen because her favorite song comes on while they’re making dinner. He remembers the way she sleeps, sprawled starfish-style across the bed, taking up every inch of space. He remembers going to the pet store together and making hopeful plans to get a dog.

Sam used to think he’d fall in love again. He figured it would happen eventually. It never really does, though.

Sometimes he meets someone, and something sparks, and he thinks maybe. But it’s not the same. He knows it’ll never be the same, he’s not expecting anyone to be like her, but he never feels anything remotely like what he felt with her. There was something magical about their time together. It was warm and bright and glowing, the way he felt with her, comfortable and shaky-scary-new all at once, and comparing other women to her is like holding up a candle to the sun.

When Sam remembers her, he remembers calling her “sunshine.”

They’re in a diner with Dean, one morning, a few months into their relationship, and when she slides back into the booth, he says, “Ordered for you, baby.”

She glares at him, and he raises an eyebrow back. “I don’t like that,” she says bluntly. “Baby. It’s belittling. Nicknames should fit the person. Pick something else?”

Sam sorta gapes at her for a moment while Dean makes a face into his coffee, but she’s looking back at him expectantly, so he considers it.

“Sunshine,” he says eventually. She smiles.

“Why?”

“When I first kissed you. Remember? It was raining, but the way you smiled at me… well. Yeah. Sunshine.”

Dean snorts.

“I like it.” She grins, and yeah, that’s it, that’s exactly what he means; he sees her beaming and he has to avert his eyes.

“What’s mine, then?” he asks.

“Cupcake,” she says promptly. Sam splutters. “Cause you’re so fuckin’ sweet you’re gonna rot my teeth.”

Dean snort-laughs so hard he almost chokes on his coffee, and she turns to him with a vicious little smirk.

“I’ve got one for you, too,” she says, all sugary in a way that Sam knows means trouble.

“Shoot, kid,” Dean says.

She makes her eyes go big and her voice go high, and calls him “Senpai,” in such a dead-on impression of an anime character that Dean actually does choke this time. Sam laughs until there are actual tears in his eyes.

When Sam remembers her, he remembers the way they found her.

The bunker is quiet, and he drops his duffel and strides through room after room, so excited to see her, to tell her all the mundane details of the hunt, to hold her again. He can’t find her in the library. He can’t find her in the kitchen. He knows she’ll be here, though. She promised she’d always be there waiting.

She’s starfished across their bed the same way she always sleeps, but it’s the middle of the afternoon and she’s cold. He remembers the confusion, more than anything, when he talks to the doctor and he’s saying something about an embolism and Sam doesn’t fucking understand, because he’d always worried about monsters and demons and instead he’s losing her to something he can’t fight.

God, he wishes he could fight something.

But there’s nothing he can do, nothing to be done, except keep moving, even though it feels like there are jagged broken edges inside him that could cut him to shreds if he moves the wrong way. For months, after, he can’t move through what used to be their shared space without feeling something catch and slice. There are so many open wounds where she used to be.  

He tries not to remember that, though. He remembers all the other homecomings, instead. 

She goes on hunts with them, sometimes, but mostly she stays home. The first time they’d tried it, working all together, Sam had been so worried about her he’d almost gotten himself killed; he was too busy watching her to notice the stupid rugaru creeping up behind him. Sam promises it won’t happen again, but the next time, she volunteers to stay home, and he’s secretly glad about it.

One day they come home and she’s not there. Her car isn’t in the garage. When he calls her, it goes straight to voicemail. He looks in every room twice, and she’s just not there, and in spite of himself he can feel the panic building in his throat, feel this cold steely thing clenching around his ribs, and he has to press the heels of his hands into his eyes to fight back the tears.

“It’s okay, dude, she probably just ran out for food,” Dean says, mystified. Sam nods tightly and goes to their room. He double checks their dresser, just to make sure; everything’s there. She hasn’t packed her bags. Still, Sam’s breathing has gone shallow and painful, and it’s not any better by the time she gets home.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, dropping her purse immediately and wrapping her arms around him.

He can’t get the words out. It makes no goddamn sense, of course. It’s fucking stupid, he should know better, but it’s all twisted up in his head and he can’t spit it out in any way that doesn’t sound pathetic.

“I should’ve left a note,” she whispers into his chest. “Fuck, I didn’t think, I’m so sorry.”

“My dad- people just-” he says, strained.

“Leave,” she finishes.

“I never get to say goodbye, and-”

“I promise I’ll always be here when you come home,” she says fiercely. “I promise. I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

She holds to it, from then on. He texts her when they’re getting ready to head back, and she’s always there, without fail, welcoming him home with that too-bright smile. She hears the roar of the Impala and she comes to the garage door to meet them, leaning against the doorframe. She’s always so happy to see him. He’s not sure he’ll ever get used to that.

Turns out he won’t have time to get used to any of it, but those are still good memories.

Sam’s starting to feel the years, now. He’s starting to ache, starting to feel like maybe the next time he dies it’ll actually stick, and he doesn’t mind that too much, but for now there’s still work to be done. Dean and Donna moved out when they were getting ready for their first kid, moved to a real house with an honest-to-god picket fence where Dean cooks dinner every night. So Sam has the bunker to himself now. It would be lonely, but there are usually a couple visitors coming and going. Hunters pass through. Cas stays, when he feels like slumming it with the humans for a while. Jody comes to visit more often, now that she’s retired, and sometimes Dean drops off his kids for a weekend so that he and Donna can have a real date. Every time Sam thinks he’s child-proofed the place, they find a new stash of weapons somewhere.

But he’s taken on the work Bobby used to do, research and answering phones and passing along his wisdom, or whatever, to the new generation of hunters. He’s busy. He’s helping. He doesn’t usually feel lonely.

Sometimes, though, he remembers her. He’ll see someone in a crowd who has her posture, or her hair, and he’s choked with memories before he can even process why. Sometimes when it smells like summer rain he can close his eyes and feel her there, feel her fingers grasping at his shirt, feel her lips, feel her velvet-hot skin under his palms. Sometimes he’ll hear that Neil Young song she loved and he could swear she’s just in the next room, cocking her head to the side all bird-like and graceful, waiting for him to come dance with her.

He knows he’ll find his way back to her again, someday. He knows she’ll be there waiting for him.

.

.

.

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[dontlookdown]

Nick’s Favourite Music of 2020

You hear that?

It’s the sound of “2020 is Fucking Dead”. Good riddance.

Now, we all know that the problems we faced throughout this year aren’t going to suddenly disappear because the number’s rolled over. For instance, I live in the UK, and things have been downhill going for us since the Olympics. But we can take a moment to feel happy, relieved even, that we made it through this Hell Year. Things are still unequivocally fucked, yes, but right now I’m explicitly telling you to give yourself a moment to take a breath. We could all use one!

Let us instead focus on the music of 2020, and how good it was. Like, really good! On the whole, it was good enough that the simple act of re-listening to the songs I’d collected over the past twelve months got me fired up to write about them at length. Considering the opposite thing happened to me last year, I may well be the only person in the world who had a better time in 2020 than they did in 2019 (at least, in this one specific aspect of it).

My self-imposed rules (20 songs, no repeating artists) mean that there’s always a collection of worthy tracks that didn’t quite make the cut. Here are those honourable mentions:

Daði Freyr – “Think About Things”

When this Icelandic banger came to our attention in May, I was so certain (so, so, certain) that it would make the cut for the final list. And it was number one with a bullet for a long time. “Song of the summer,” I would have said, had you asked. Turns out there was a lot of bouncy energetic pop music to be heard in 2020, and “Think About Things” just doesn’t take flight in the same majestic way that other songs did. It is still one of the best songs of the year though (let’s say the 22nd), and absolutely would’ve/should’ve (delete as appropriate) won Eurovision this year.

Dirty Projectors – 5EPs

What an embarrassment of riches. Dirty Projectors released five four-track EPs over the months, each written and fronted by a different member of the band. The collected result was a little scattershot, but one of the most rewarding LPs of the year. Come for the classic DP sound of “Overlord”, “Lose Your Love” and “Searching Spirit”. Stay for the likes of “No Studying”, a perfect tribute to the sound of Stereolab.

Future Islands – As Long As You Are

Future Islands were another personal favourite of mine who were firing on all cylinders this year. “For Sure” and “Thrill” made the shortlist for inclusion. So did 50 other songs. To my dismay, I had to draw the line somewhere.

IDLES – “Reigns”

I can’t explain what happened to my IDLES appetite this year. I was ready for more, after the cannon blast of Joy as an Act of Resistance in 2018, and early single “Mr. Motivator” was instantly added to my running playlist (I know, I know). But, somehow, by the time Ultra Mono came out, I wasn’t feeling it. Maybe they cast their net too wide. Maybe it’s because the protest music of 2020 had to come from a different source (we’ll talk about it later). Maybe it’s because other bands found a way to be less on-the-nose with their socio-political messaging (we’ll talk about that too). Whatever the reason, this album disappointed. But there were still moments that thrilled, like the way singer Joe Talbot turned the word “reigns” into a raging torpedo of a battle cry.

Jay Electronica – A Written Testimony

One of the singles on A Written Testimony was released in 2010. That’s how long we’ve been waiting for a debut album from Jay Electronica. The perception of some is that we’re still waiting: the album features so many contributions by Jay-Z that it may as well be classified as a collaboration in the vein of Watch the Throne. Semantics aside, it’s a hell of an album. One of the freshest-sounding and most fun-to-listen-to rap releases I’ve heard in years.

Laura Marling – “Fortune”

I’ve hinted at this before, and I’ll state it clearly now: Laura Marling is this generation’s Joni Mitchell. She keeps delivering on past potential.

Jessie Ware – “Save a Kiss”

Another unfortunate victim of 2020 having so much great dance-pop music. Jessie Ware’s big disco comeback was everything I wanted from her, and it wasn’t even the year’s best big disco comeback!

Masterpiece Machine – “Rotting Fruit”

My list-making process begins by listening to every track I have in my iTunes from the last year on shuffle. It’s a way of resetting my confirmation bias, I guess. Sometimes songs I had built up in my head as “important” fail to stand out in a crowd. And sometimes monsters like this bulldoze everything in their path. RIP Riley Gale.

Nap Eyes – “Mark Zuckerberg”

A jangly oddity I couldn’t quite figure out in the end. Musically wholesome, with some of the weirdest lyrics of the year.

Nation of Language – Introduction, Presence

The best New Order album of the year.

Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever – “Cars in Space”

The 21st best song of the year. 2020 also had way too much to offer in the way of great indie rock. The post-chorus bit in this song where the horns hit is an all-timer.

Romy – “Lifetime”

The xx singer/guitarist is making a solo move. I can’t wait to hear more, especially if it’s as good as this.

Sufjan Stevens – The Ascension

I’ve done this dance with Sufjan before, when The Age of Adz dropped. These more electronic albums of his take time to properly settle in my brain. I’ll come around eventually.

Will Butler – “Surrender”

We all needed pick-me-ups during 2020. This was one of my musical ones.

Nobuo Uematsu et al - Final Fantasy VII Remake Soundtrack

I was not expecting to love the FF7 remake (part one of ????) as much as I did. I came to original too late to really appreciate it, and I hadn’t been interested in any of the more recent games in the series. Turns out all they needed to do was make a really good game. Who knew? Nobuo Uematsu’s compositions have always been at the heart of the series. He’s arguably the world’s most famous video game composer specifically due to his Final Fantasy work. As such, I’ve heard his work from VII a lot. Too much, I thought, for it to have any emotional impact on me. Boy, was I wrong. The orchestral arrangements of familiar themes are weaponised nostalgia, yanking at my heartstrings like nothing else. Meanwhile, the revamped boss theme fucking RIPS. Even taken away from the context of the game, the score loses none of its power. Astonishing work.

Neil Cicierega – Mouth Dreams

Neil “Lemon Demon” Cicierega’s ‘Mouth’ mash-up series have been a constant source of joy, even before this year. The latest instalment was no exception. The element of surprise is key to enjoying these albums (“This song with that song? I didn’t see that coming”), so I’ll just point out that they’re all free to download, and you really should experience them for yourself.

Okay! As I mentioned above, the final list has twenty songs, and I��ll be writing about each of them in their own dedicated post, one a day. For those that want to listen ahead to what I’ll be covering in-depth, here’s a Spotify playlist of the final twenty.

If you fancy revisiting my posts from previous years, they can all be found here using the “best of 20xx” tag (just retype the appropriate year). See you tomorrow for the first instalment!

[aniallstory-blog]

Chapter Fifteen

Note: I’m so sorry! I meant to post this chapter on Thursday night before I went away for the weekend and I forgot. Here it is now though and I’ll post another tomorrow to make up for the long wait! Enjoy :)

“So we have the invitations,” I told Niall as we Skyped the week after his BBC performance. He was in Australia doing promotions, but as he said he would he'd been very dedicated to the wedding whenever he had his free time. “The first batch said Neil so I had to get them changed, but I'll send them out tomorrow.”

Niall frowned as he sipped a can of Fosters.

“Are ya jokin'? Ya spelt my name wrong on our wedding invitations?”

“I didn't spell your name wrong!” I giggled as I shook my head, I knew how much he hated being called Neil and I had laughed a tad longer than I probably should've when I first saw the mistake. “They must have thought Niall was a typo and changed it when I sent it to the company.”

“S'disrepecful,” He mumbled to himself. “Lots of people are named Niall.”

“I know, hun, but I got it changed so it's all sorted now,” I assured him even though I had kept one of the original batch just for my own amusement. “Have you picked out your best man and groomsmen yet?”

“I have indeed,” Niall smiled. “Gonna ask Greg to be me best man even though I'd rather have Willie if m'honest.”

“Then ask him instead,” I interrupted with a frown. “It's our wedding, Ni. Greg will get over it eventually, do whatever you want.”

He shrugged.

“It's not worth the drama. Willie can still be one of my groomsmen. Deo, Martin and Eoghan too.”

“That's perfect,” I smiled. “Gemma's going to be my Maid of Honour and then Charlotte, Abby, Sarah and Lucy are going to be my bridesmaids so they can partner up evenly.”

“Everything's comin' together!” Niall grinned. “Told ya we wouldn't need more than four months.”

I stuck my tongue out playfully and rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, of course. Those people who take at least a year to spread out all the stress so they're not scrambling to get everything done on time are so lazy,” I said sarcastically, knowing it would be a very hectic few months for us.

“It'll be fine, love,” Niall insisted. “I'll handle the catering since I know all about me food and bevvies and the honeymoon 'cause I wanna surprise ya. You handle the decorations because that's more yer area of expertise and m'sure ya can find us a photographer in no time so that's all there is to it.”

“I suppose you're right,” I sighed. “We have to find someone to officiate the ceremony too. Can priests even do it if you're not at a church or official venue?”

“Don't see why not, but I can look into it if ya want,” Niall offered. “I'm sure someone in London would be happy to marry us.”

“It's okay, I can ask around and see what I can find out,” I shrugged. “I know you're pretty busy over there. I've been watching some of your interviews, what's all this about you going after Katy Perry?”

Niall laughed and rolled his eyes.

“It's just a joke,” He insisted. “She keeps tellin' everyone m'tryin' ta get her number and m'flirtin' with her, but it's all good fun. I promise m'not.”

“I know,” I laughed. “We all know she'd be powerless to resist if you did start trying to charm her.”

“Not so sure about that, love,” He chucked. “But I should probably try and get some sleep. This jet lag is killin' me, but I got an early start tomorrow.”

“I'm sorry, Ni. I wish I could curl up with you, I could use a nap today too.”

“Yeah? Mean Marge workin' ya too hard?”

“No, Niall,” I laughed at his nickname for my boss. “I was just up late editing some pictures for the orders I've been getting. There's been a lot lately.”

“Glad to hear that!” He grinned proudly. “But make sure ya take care of yerself too, alright?”

“Of course,” I smiled at his protective nature. “But I'll let you get some rest. Chat tomorrow?”

“Absolutely, I'll let ya know me schedule as soon as I wake up,” I nodded and blew him a kiss, but just as I was about to say goodnight and hang up, he stopped me. “Wait! There's another thing ya gotta do before the wedding! Ya need to pick yer dress. Me Ma was hoping you'd let her help? She'll fly in whenever ya want her to. She just wants to be a part of it all.”

I smiled at the fact that my future mother-in-law wanted to help me pick out such an important part of my wedding, but my stomach dropped at the same time. It was the part that I wasn't ready to discuss yet. I was quiet for a moment before I realized Niall was still waiting for my answer so I pushed my worries to the back of my mind.

“Of course she can, it's very sweet that she wants to,” I told him. “I'll text her soon once I figure out when I can fit that in.”

“Alright, love,” Niall smiled. “Have a good day.”

I blew him another kiss before saying goodbye and disconnecting the call.

-

“Hiya, love,” Niall said cheerily when he answered my call about a week later. “Ya alright?”

“Yeah, are you?” I asked smiling proudly. “I saw that reception you got at the airport. That was insane. Just wanted to make sure you made it to your hotel alive.”

“'Course I did,” Niall chuckled. “Bas does his job well. Was wild though, definitely wasn't expectin’ it. Felt like the old days with the lads.”

“Well everyone loves the new single, Ni,” I reminded him as I curled up on the couch with my morning tea, my laptop perched on the coffee table in front of me. “You deserve all the attention you're getting. I'm so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Ava,” Niall sighed happily. “M'so grateful for it all, ya know? Never thought the response would be this big to me going out on me own.”

“I did,” I scoffed. “All four of you are talented. Being in a band together made for some really great music, but being apart really showcases your skills as individuals and I'm not even a tiny bit surprised at the success any of you have had.”

“Still very surreal when hoards of teenage girls are screamin' at me,” Niall pointed out. “Not the kind of reaction I'll ever get used ta.”

“No, I bet not,” I giggled.

The conversation moved on to how his flight there had been, his schedule for the next few days and how things were going for me in London, but it didn't take long for Niall to get back to the topic I was trying to avoid.

“I heard from me Ma yesterday by the way and she said ya still haven't gotten in touch about picking yer dress,” He told me, causing a knot form in my stomach.

“Oh yeah, sorry. I've just been really busy with everything else, I still haven't picked a time for that yet.”

It wasn't a lie, I had been busy with everything else, but I had been prioritizing those things for a reason. Something Niall copped on to faster than I had expected.

“Picking out yer dress is supposed t’be top of the list for most brides, isn't it?” He asked, his tone conveying it was more of a statement than a question. “You've found a photographer, made the invitations, finalized a guest list, started lookin' for someone to officiate, but ya haven't put any thought into yer dress yet?”

I hesitated for a moment before I answered.

“Yes?”

My voice was quiet and questioning and I heard Niall sigh.

“The tables have turned now, haven't they, love?” He asked. “There's somethin' yer not tellin' me, some reason you don't want to talk about this. You've brushed me off every time I've asked. If ya don't want me Ma to help pick yer dress, I can just tell her. She won't be offended.”

“No, Niall! That's absolutely not the issue,” I rushed to assure him, not wanting him to think for a minute that I didn't appreciate his mum's interest in helping. “It's not a big deal, really.”

“But there is somethin'?” He questioned. I could practically hear his brain working as he tried to figure it out. “It's not what ya said about needin' to lose weight first, is it? I know ya have to try not to lose weight once ya get yer dress fitted, Denise was all stressed out about that before their wedding so is that why yer putting it off? Honestly ya don't need to lose a pound. You're beautiful just the way ya are and if anyone says otherwise they can fuck right off. No real fan of mine would say a bad thing about ya, 'specially not somethin' like that.”

That wasn't exactly true, 'real fans' of his had said horrible things about me plenty of times, but that was beside the point. I wasn't worried about my weight.

“It's not that either,” I said quietly, nervously biting my lip. He was worried and I knew I had to be honest with him, but he would probably think I was being stupid. Even I thought I was.

“Yer not still mad about the time restraint and doing it all on my schedule, are ya?” When I denied that as well, he let out a frustrated sigh. “Well then m'out of ideas, love. Yer gonna have to tell me what's going on in that head of yers if ya want me t’help ya through it.”

I felt tears prick my eyes, but I blinked them back and cleared my throat, hoping he wouldn't be able to tell how upset I was.

“I want my mum to be there,” I mumbled so quietly I wouldn't have been surprised if my laptop's microphone didn't pick it up. But once I'd made the confession everything came pouring out. “Picking out a wedding dress is something you're supposed to do with your mum, you know? She's supposed to be there to give me suggestions, tell me what suits me and what looks awful because she totally would have,” I smiled through the tears that were blurring my vision. “She had a habit of not sugarcoating anything. She wouldn't have let me walk out there in anything that was less than perfect even if it meant giving me some tough love. I want her suggestions on what style. I want to see the look on her face when I find the perfect one. I want her to be there.”

Niall was quiet for a moment.

“I'm sorry, Ava,” He sighed. “Didn't even think about that.”

“It's alright,” I sniffled, wiping my eyes. “It's silly, I know. But this whole process is making me miss her a lot. I think about her every day, Ni. I get so mad about it sometimes. It's not fair that she won't get to be there and see me get married, she'll never get to meet you and see how amazing you are and how happy you make me, she won't get to meet any kids we have or teach me how to be a good mum like she was, I'll never get to know if she's proud of who I am and what I'm doing.”

“'Course she's proud of you, love,” Niall insisted. “It isn't fair and I wish I could change that for ya, but she's watching ya and looking out for ya and she knows what an amazing woman you've turned out to be. Probably wishes ya'd fallen for someone who could be around for ya more than I am, but I like to think she knows how much I love ya and how hard I try to look after ya for her.”

I smiled, my heart swelling at his words.

“She wouldn't have wanted me to be with anyone else,” I assured him. “She would have loved you. She always had a thing for Irish accents, she probably would have been pretty jealous that I found myself such a good looking Irishman.”

“I wish I could have met her,” Niall laughed. “And I know it's not the same and no one could take her place, but me Ma will never let ya pick out a dress that doesn't suit ya either. I know she seems nice, but she can be brutally honest too. She really wants to be there for ya and help with it all.”

“I want her to, I swear,” I insisted, smiling at the thought of Maura telling me how horrible I looked in an unflattering dress. “It's just taken a bit of the excitement out of it, you know? Everything else has been fine, but doing this without my mum just won't be the same. I'll get over it though and pick a date soon.”

“Ya don't need to get over it,” Niall said gently. “Yer allowed ta be upset, yer allowed to miss her. Just don't let it ruin things yer supposed to be excited about too much, yeah? She wouldn't have wanted that. She'll be there with ya when yer picking out a dress anyway even if ya can't see her.”

“You're right,” I smiled, wiping my eyes on my sleeve. “Thanks for the pep talk, hun.”

“Anytime, Darlin'. S'what m'here for,” He assured me. “Wish I could give ya big hug though. Don't like being away from me girl when she's sad.”

“You're too sweet,” I giggled. “I wish you could give me a hug too, but I'll be alright. I'll pick a date at some point today and talk to your mum later.”

“Sounds good, love,” Niall agreed. “But I gotta run, have another interview coming up in a few minutes. I'll text ya later, alright?”

“Alright. Good luck with your interview. I love you, Niall.”

“Love you too, Ava.”

I blew him a kiss, we said our goodbyes and hung up the phone. It felt good to get my sadness off my chest, but it didn't make it disappear. Nothing in the world would change the fact that my mum wouldn't be able to help me pick my wedding dress or see me on the big day.

I felt more tears well up in my eyes and before I knew it I was sobbing right there on our couch. I let it all out. All the fear of not having her guidance, the anger at the unfairness of it all and the sadness that after all those times we'd talked about what my wedding would be like when I was younger, she wouldn't get to share it with me now it was actually happening. I cried and cried until there were no more tears left before grabbing a tissue off the coffee table and blowing my nose.

Sometimes there's pain in life that you just need to feel and despite the fact that no amount of tears or tantrums would bring my mum back, this was still a pain that I had to get out of my system every once in a while even six years later.

[the--blackdahlia]

It’s So Easy (And Other Lies) Chapter 7

Title: It’s So Easy (And Other Lies) Chapter 7

Summary: Stevie Adler likes Duff McKagan. She has for a while now, but she is convinced Duff doesn’t like her that way. Duff likes Stevie, but so does their new bandmate Axl Rose.

Chapter Warnings: Language mainly

AN: Here’s another chapter quickly because I’m trash and a little buzzed. Thank you so much for all the feedback!

A Couple Months Later

The album was perfect. Everyone worked hard on it, and Axl worked the sound engineers to make sure every note was perfect. Everyone had learned that Axl was a bit of a micromanager with this album. He was pissed that part of Slash’s epic solo for “Sweet Child O’ Mine” was dropped for radio edits, but the smile on Stevie’s face when she heard the completed thing was engraved in his mind. She had lit up the whole room, and Slash and Izzy had to watch as Duff and Axl both watched her. Axl wanted to tell her the song was about her, not whatever girl he was currently with, and Duff never wanted her to know.

They listened to all the music on the album, Axl not being able to hide the smile on his face when “Rocket Queen” came on. Everything was going great. And then it came to the guitar solo.

“Oh my god, who is that?” Stevie asked with a laugh. She was sitting against Slash, wearing his top hat.

“Oh, just a girl,” Axl shrugged. “Fucked her in the recording studio to get it.”

“Can’t be you fucking her,” Izzy said, lighting his cigarette. “She’s not begging for help.”

“Nice!” Duff high fived the guitarist. Stevie shook her head and laughed.

“Dude, I thought you were supposed to be my friend,” Axl rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I think that it’ll give us a lot of...exposure.”

“It’s gonna give us a lot of being banned from MTV, that’s what it’s gonna do,” Stevie told him. “But I like it.”

“Wait, you do?” Axl asked, staring at her. The other three looked at her as well, wondering if she was going crazy or something.

“Well yeah,” She told him. “Guess you’re just not used to girls enjoying themselves during sex.” She smirked at Axl, who glared at the drummer.

“Oooo!” Izzy, Slash, and Duff all high fived her.

“I hate you guys,” Axl crossed his arms over his chest.

****

“Oh my god!” Stevie screamed from her bedroom. Slash and Duff looked at each other. The album had been selling and Stevie had just quit her job at the diner. On her way home, she grabbed a couple magazines just to see what people were saying about them. She took them to her room to read through them, ready to laugh at all the dumb things that they could come up with.

And apparently, she had found something she did not like.

“Stevie? You okay?” Duff called back to her. She came storming out of her room and dropped the magazine on the crowded coffee table.

“Read it!” she demanded. Slash picked up the magazine and Duff moved to sit by him so they could read whatever it was she was upset about together.

“Guns n’ Roses, a Hollywood based band, has made waves with their new album Appetite for Destruction,” Slash read. “Fronted by Indiana native Axl Rose and being joined by fellow Indiana child Izzy Stradlin, Duff McKagan from Washington, Guitarist Slash from England, and Stevie Adler from Ohio, the band is sure to draw in the crowds.”

“What’s wrong?” Duff asked, looking up at Stevie, confused. The only thing that he could think of was that she didn’t like people pointing out she was an Ohio native.

“Keep reading,” She hissed.

“While each song in Appetite for Destruction keeps the listener wanting more, some are shrouded with mystery,” Slash continued on. “Such being the final song on the album called “Rocket Queen”. It has not been confirmed who the girl in the instrumental parts is, but we have it under good record that it is in fact drummer Stevie...Adler...oh shit…”

“I know it’s not me!” She told them. “Everyone in the band knows it’s not me. Duff and I went to see Spaceballs when Axl fucked that poor girl!”

“We’ll just keep telling them that,” Duff told her. “It’s gonna be okay.”

****

Duff, Izzy, Slash, and Stevie did keep telling the press that Stevie was not the Rocket Queen. But Axl wasn’t helping. When people would ask who it really was, he would just give them a smile and a shrug. He never confirmed nor denied who the Rocket Queen was, so the media ran with it, since Axl was the frontman.

“Dude, just fucking tell them is wasn’t Stevie,” Duff told him one day while they were in New York, preparing to film one of their music videos using concert footage and differet things that the film crew recorded while following them around the city.

“People like a mystery,” Axl told him. “Keeps people listening, hoping they can figure it out.”

“But you know it’s not her,” Duff stared the shorter man down. “Start telling people it’s not Stevie. I don’t give a rats ass who you tell people it is or isn’t, but just make it perfectly clear that it was not Stevie.”

“Duff, you coming?” Stevie called over to him from where she was hanging out with Slash. The three of them were going to explore the city together. Stevie had never been to New York before and she was so excited to see the sights.

“Yeah!” Duff smiled at her before looking back at Axl. He just glared at him for a second before putting his sunglasses on and walking over to his friends. He let an arm slide around her shoulders before the three set off.

They had fans smiling and asking for autographs wherever they went. Duff would flash smiles at the girls who would ask them to sign something, but the guys that got a little too close to Stevie made his blood boil. Fuck, they weren’t even dating and he was like this. He tried to cool himself down, but the thought of someone else taking Stevie to bed, well, Duff didn’t like that idea one bit.

“We’re doing the ferry tour, right?” Stevie asked when they walked away from the last group of fans that wanted autographs, girls that told Stevie they wanted to be drummers or musicians now and how they were so excited to get a hug from their idol. There weren’t a lot of women on the scene, but the ones that were there made a big impact. And hanging out with Stevie as they got bigger was showing Duff that.

“Of course,” Slash smiled. “How else are we going to see the Statue of Liberty?”

“We get to see the Statue of Liberty?” Stevie asked excitedly. “You guys are the best!”

“You gotta get out more,” Slash laughed. He grabbed her hand. “Last one to the ticket booth has to bunk with Axl tonight!” Him and Stevie took off down the sidewalk.

“Hey!” Duff ran after them. He was determined to make Slash last, because he wasn’t bunking with Axl and he sure as hell wasn’t letting Stevie do it. The camera crew had drove ahead, so they weren’t chasing the trio. Duff used his long legs to his advantage, and all three of them arrived at the same time.

“I think Stevie was last,” Slash teased. “Shorty here was racing a fucking giant.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault I’m average height for a girl and Duff is so fucking long!” Stevie pointed out.

“Bet that’s the first time you’ve ever heard that one,” Slash looked at Duff and laughed.

“God, you’ve been hanging out with Izzy way too much,” Duff shook his head. They headed through the ticket center onto the ferry with the camera guy following them. Stevie was so excited as she looked out over the city. Duff had no idea that the cameras were on them as he watched her with a smile on his face.

But soon, they would have to get back for sound check and warm ups. They were opening up for Motley Crue, who were back from their Europe tour. They just so happened to be in the right place at the right time for the event. So once the ferry ride was over, the three headed back to the venue. Stevie took a seat behind her drums, working on tuning and making sure that everything was in the right spot. Duff, Izzy, and Slash were going over some things, and Axl was talking with some of the roadies.

“Hey,” Someone said, making Stevie jump. She turned to see Vince standing there. His blond hair was a mess, but he looked good for already doing a fair share of touring.

“Oh, hey Vince,” She smiled at him. “We didn’t think you guys would be here until we started our set.”

“Tommy, Nikki, and Mick are back there doing god knows what,” Vince laughed. “I wanted to come talk to you.”

“To me?” She asked. “Why?” He leaned against one of the amps that was right by her set up.

“So, are the rumors true?” He asked. “Are you the Rocket Queen?”

“Oh my god,” Stevie laughed. “No, I’m not. I don’t know what poor girl Axl conned into doing that, but it sure as hell wasn’t me.”

“Oh,” Vince laughed a little bit. “Well, since I broke the ice, we’re all still in town tomorrow. And I was just wondering if you’d wanna go out tomorrow night.”

“You’re asking me out on a date?” Stevie asked. Vince nodded and gave her that killer smile of his. “Sure.”

“Awesome,” Vince laughed. “I’ll meet you at that Italian place a block away from the hotel they put you guys at. How’s 8 sound?”

“That sounds good,” Stevie smiled at the frontman. He took her hand and kissed it before walking away, leaving Stevie sitting there with the biggest smile on her face.

****

“Who’s that over there with Stevie?” Axl asked, walking up to Izzy, Slash, and Duff. Izzy looked over, trying to see who it was.

“Looks like Vince Neil,” Izzy told them. Duff’s head popped up to look over at the scene. He watched Vince talking to Stevie and she had a big smile on her face. Then he kissed her hand and walked away.

“What do you think happened?” Slash asked. Duff didn’t answer, instead walking over to Stevie.

“Stevie,” Duff said as he walked up to her. “What did Neil want?”

“Oh, uh, well you see…” She was blushing now. Duff suddenly was scared to hear what Vince had wanted. “He asked me out on a date.”

“HE WHAT?!” Axl screeched. Stevie jumped and looked at the redhead. Izzy placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

“Yeah,” Stevie nodded. “We’re going to get Italian tomorrow night. Isn’t that great?” She looked at Duff and her smile started to fall when she saw the look on his face. “Duff?”

“Oh, yeah. Happy for you. I gotta...there’s something backstage I gotta do,” With that, Duff left, leaving Stevie sitting there, confused.

****

The concert was fucking amazing. They brought energy that made the kids all go crazy. They took their bow and headed backstage where they were met by Tommy, Nikki, Mick, and Vince. Motley Crue had a few minutes before they had to get on, to give the stagehands a chance to switch out the gear.

“Way to go dude!” Tommy gave Stevie a big hug. “You’re so fucking awesome!”

“T-Bone, stop. You’re making me blush,” Stevie laughed. Nikki went to talk to Duff and Slash while Izzy and Mick talked. Axl watched as Vince headed over to Stevie.

“Can’t wait until tomorrow night,” He told her. Both bands got silent as he pulled her in for a kiss. Tommy’s mouth hung open, Mick and Izzy looked at each other in shock. Nikki could feel Duff getting angry. Vince broke apart from Stevie and smiled. “Until then.” With that, Tommy grabbed his arm and pulled him to the stage.

“What the fuck was that?” He asked the singer.

“What?” Vince asked. “Just kissing my date.”

****

Stevie smiled at her boys as they grabbed their personal things and headed to the bus to go back to the hotel. They had a few days to relax in New York before they had to head out.

“What do you guys wanna go do tonight?” Stevie asked the boys.

“I’m going out,” Duff grumbled.

“Great, I’ll go with…” Stevie looked at Duff’s face and stopped talking. “I mean...never mind…” Slash looked over at Duff, who was gritting his teeth and looking out the window. Tommy, Nikki, and hell, even Mick had picked up on the fact that Duff was in love with Stevie. Even Axl to an extent, because he hadn’t tried to bed her in awhile. But Vince fucking Neil didn’t get the memo apparently.

Slash watched as Stevie quietly got on the bus then looked over at Duff. He wanted to yell at the bassist for acting the way he was, but honestly, he would probably be the same way if the roles were reversed.

Stevie quietly headed to her room, walking past Duff and Slash as they loitered outside their joint rooms. Everyone had their own room, but they always joked about turning one into a party room and hanging out with Axl. But that wasn’t going to happen tonight.

It was the first night in a long time Duff and Stevie hadn’t done something together after a concert.

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