#mick I think you might be squeezing him a little bit too hard

[waugh-bao]

[yeah-all-of-it]

I’ve had this headcanon for awhile now about Ian and Mickey starting a family and since I’m becoming more comfortable with writing, I thought I’d turn it into a fic. Enjoy!

A Life Changing Gift

“Debs, are you sure you understand what you’re offering right now?,” Ian questions, feeling a bit skeptical.

It is Debbie after all. Sometimes she’s perfectly pleasant and reasonable, other times she can be a raging bitch. But, she is his sister and he can’t imagine her offering something this monumental only to renege after they’ve gotten their hopes up. And she’s definitely mellowed out since they didn’t end up selling the house and she didn’t have to find a new place to live.

Ian and Debbie are sitting at the kitchen table in the Gallagher house. She had called him over to look at a cut Franny had gotten playing in the backyard. Wasn’t sure if it needed stitches and thought Ian could use his past medical training to check it out. In reality, it was barely a scratch. Ian should have known at that point Debbie was up to something, especially when she invited him to stay for coffee.

“Ian, I’ve been thinking a long time about this. Came up with the idea months ago but wanted to be completely sure before I said anything,” Debbie explains.

“Yeah, but, Debbie. This is fuckin’ huge. Think about how hard it’ll be on you-“

“I’ve already thought about all that shit, Ian. I’ve been through it before, you know. It’s really not that bad,” Debbie assures him.

Debbie seems sincere. Like she’s really considered every angle, every downside, upside, and in-between. He’s trying to keep his excitement reined in because he still has to convince Mickey that this is a good idea, which could be easier said than done.

“Listen,” Debbie says. “You don’t have to say anything now. Go home, talk it over with Mickey. You can even bring him over here and we can all talk about it if you want. No pressure.”

They both stand from the table and Ian goes to give her a hug.

“Wait, what the fuck are you doing?” Debbie jokes. “Thought you hated me and that we don’t do hugs anymore.” She laughs, and Ian knows she’s remembering how tense things were a year ago when she thought she’d be homeless and alone and she lashed out at all her siblings.

“Would you just fuckin’ come here?” Ian smiles warmly and holds his arms out.

She steps into his embrace and he just holds his little sister. Sometimes he still likes to imagine her as that sweet little girl that was always helping people. Always loving people, sometimes so much she would get hurt. It would kill him to see the tears in her eyes.

Sometimes, he sees glimpses of that caring little girl in the jaded woman she’s become. Like when she pretended to be the bride at his wedding; staying in the kitchen, missing the whole ceremony, just so he and Mickey could get married without any problems from the homophobes at the venue. And now, when she’s offering this selfless and life changing gift to them.

Ian whispers into her hair, hair that’s the same vibrant shade of red as his own, “I don’t even know what to say, Debs. Just… thank you.”

Debbie gives him one more big squeeze before pulling away. “You’re welcome. Now, go home and convince your husband to let me have his baby.”

———

“No fuckin’ way, NO fuckin’ way!” Mickey exclaims. “No way am I bangin’ your little sister.”

Mickey hops up on the counter, takes a long chug of the Old Style in his hand.

“Mick,” Ian sighs, leaning up against the opposite counter. “That’s not how it works. You would basically jerk off in a cup and she’d use a turkey baster, in the privacy of her own room,” he emphasizes,” to… place the sperm where they need to go.”

“Don’t you need like, a doctor or some shit to do that?” Mickey asks incredulously.

“Well, you can use a doctor but it’s expensive. This way is free,” Ian clarifies.

Mickey is clearly churning the idea around in his brain. Finally speaks.

“I thought we were just gonna like, find a fuckin’ kid that didn’t have parents or somethin’.”

“We can do that too, one day. Ya know, if we like the first one enough to do it again,” Ian says lightheartedly, slight grin, trying to calm Mickey.

Ian steps toward Mickey, placing his hips between Mickey’s knees, resting his hands on his thighs, rubbing softly.

Ian continues. “Think about it though, Mick. This baby would be us, you and me. It’s the closest we can get since we don’t exactly have the right stuff to do it on our own. He or she would have your DNA and, through Debbie, a little of mine too.”

Mickey beams at this, wraps his arms around his husband’s shoulders. “It would be kinda fun to have a little version of us runnin’ around,” Mickey admits. “You know a kid that’s part Milkovich and part Gallagher is bound to be a little shit though, right?” Mickey jokes, smiling at the thought.

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Ian quips, leaning in and planting a sweet kiss on his smiling husband’s lips.

Ian pulls back from the kiss and asks seriously, “So. Do you wanna do this?”

“Yeah. Yeah I do. What about you?” Mickey questions.

“Fuck yeah, I do. Let’s call Debs right now.”

———

“I’ve done a lot of research about this. You guys know it might not work on the first try right? Don’t want you to be frustrated or disappointed if it doesn’t work this month. Doesn’t mean it won’t ever work, but it can take a little time,” Debbie explains.

They are sitting in the Gallagher living room the day they are making their first attempt at insemination.

“Yeah, we know, Debs. Don’t worry,” Ian replies. “We’re not in a hurry.”

“Okay, good. Keeping your expectations reasonable is good,” she says. “I’ve also been tracking my basal body temperature and took an ovulation test, so today is my most fertile da-“

Mickey interrupts, “Thanks, Dr. Gallagher, but we don’t need all the gory details. Now where do I jerk off? Hey Ian, you gonna gimme a hand, man?” Mickey clicks his tongue and bounces his eyebrows playfully.

“Ugh, no gory details, right? Let’s just keep all the personal shit to ourselves okay?” Debbie requests.

“Yeah, this is already awkward enough. Don’t need to make it weirder,” Ian agrees and eyes Mickey scoldingly.

Ian and Mickey are forced to go into the bathroom because Lip and Tami live there now and their old bedroom is now Fred and the baby’s room. They’re not home but it would be uncomfortable seeing Fred’s little toddler bed, his stuffed animal collection staring at them while Mickey gets off. So, bathroom it is.

“Listen, Mickey,” Ian explains. “I’ll help, but we are keeping this clinical. Short and sweet. We can fuck at home later for fun; this needs to be done with a purpose, a goal. Debbie’s waiting.”

“Ugh, Jesus, man, why you gotta bring up Debbie? Doesn’t exactly make this process easier to think of her waiting in her room to squir-“

“Okaaayy, focus Mick,” Ian interrupts before that sentence goes any further.

Ian yanks down Mickey’s pants and gets to work. He knows exactly how Mickey likes it to make him come quickly. It works and Mickey finishes into the bulb of the turkey baster in record time.

Ian wipes off the edges and walks it to Debbie’s room, knocking on the door. She opens it just enough to stick her arm out and Ian places the bulb in her hand. Ian hears her say, “Uh, you guys can go home. I’ll text you later,” and shuts the door.

On their way back to the Westside, Ian’s phone dings. He picks it up and reads the text from Debbie out loud. “Transfer is complete.”

“What now?” Mickey asks.

“We wait,” Ian answers.

———

“It should have worked by now, right?” Mickey asks, an edge of concern in his voice. “I mean, it’s been almost 4 months. What if like, my fuckin’ swimmers don’t work or somethin’?”

Ian tries to calm Mickey down, rubbing his arm that’s slung across Ian’s belly. It’s midnight and they really should be asleep but Mickey’s spiraling over the whole surrogacy thing.

“Mick, this is normal. We knew it could take awhile. There��s no need to freak out yet,” Ian assures. “What’s all this about, anyway? All the worry.”

“Just… I know it took a long time for me to even wanna have kids. Then you had to convince me to do this shit, to be okay with Debbie carrying my baby. Fuck, that still sounds creepy as hell. But anyway, I know I wasn’t on board with everything at first, but now? Ian, I’m so fuckin’ excited to have a baby with you. To be a dad with you. It’s just hard to wait, that’s all. And then I think… what if it doesn’t happen? What if this whole plan just fuckin’ fails? Then what?”

“Then, we come up with another plan,” Ian assures. “I wanna raise kids with you too, Mickey, so fuckin’ much. I wanna give them the childhood we never got to have. I wanna take them to the beach with you, I want us to play blocks on the living room floor, and read bedtime stories together. All that shit. It’ll happen, Mickey. One way or another, we’ll make it happen.”

Ian snuggles Mickey closer, kisses him on the top of the head, and they fall asleep in each other’s arms.

They are woken up by Ian’s obnoxious ringtone at 6:00 am, well before they have to be up for work.

“Who the fuck is calling this goddamn early? Better be fuckin’ important,” Mickey grumbles while rubbing his eyes.

It’s Debbie.

“Hey, Debs!” Ian says with fake cheerfulness, still half asleep. “What’s up?”

“There’s two lines!” she screams on the other end of the phone.

“Okay?” Ian replies.

“There’s TWO lines!” she repeats, emphasizing the word two.

“I don’t know what the fuck that means, Debs. Two lines where?” Ian questions.

“On the pregnancy test, dipshit! It’s positive! I’m pregnant!” she yells.

Ian bolts upright in bed. Mickey grumbles “what the fuck” under his breath, eyes still half closed.

“Holy fuck! It’s positive?” Ian exclaims. “It worked?

Mickey’s up now too. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“Debs! Thank you! I love you! I’ll call you back later!” Ian says, unable to hold in his excitement.

He hangs up the phone. Turns and looks at Mickey. “It worked. She’s pregnant,” Ian practically whispers, unable to believe it. Ian sees tears well up in Mickey’s eyes and, for only the second time Ian has ever witnessed, they spill out onto his cheeks.

———

“Damn, you look like a beached whale, Debbie,” Mickey observes.

Debbie gives him a dirty look but chooses to keep her mouth shut.

She’s a week past her due date so they are at the clinic today to make sure everything is good. Debbie is up on the table and Ian and Mickey are sitting in the two available chairs when the doctor comes in.

“Hi, Debbie! Hi, Dads!” she says cheerfully. “So we are going to measure your belly and do a quick ultrasound just to make sure your amniotic fluid looks good.” Mickey grimaces at the term “amniotic fluid”. “I’ll have her back in a jiffy, guys!” the doctor says as she whisks Debbie out of the room.

They spent the last 6 months getting everything they needed for their new baby. Tami even threw them a shower where they got clothes, bottles, a swing, a carseat, and about a billion diapers. They decorated the nursery in light gray bedding with tiny white stars. Gender neutral because they want to be surprised. They have everything ready, all they need is the baby who is taking its sweet time.

Around 20 minutes has passed when the doctor pokes her head in the door.

“Sooo, I have some news. Debbie’s water broke while we were doing her ultrasound and her contractions started coming really fast. From what I’ve been told, her first delivery was pretty quick so we’re transporting her to the hospital just down the road, just to be safe. You are welcome to head over there now. I will be delivering so I’ll see you guys there!” and her head pops out as quickly as it appeared.

Ian and Mickey just look at each other, stunned. Finally Mickey regains his senses and breaks the silence. “Well, let’s fuckin’ go!”

They finally make it to the OB floor after a couple wrong turns inside the hospital. A nurse points them to Debbie’s room and they walk in when she’s in the middle of a pretty intense contraction. Once it subsides, she greets them and informs the epidural is on its way.

Once it’s been administered and Debbie is blissfully pain free, she asks, “Do you guys want to be in the delivery room?”

They both look at each other. “I hadn’t really thought about it,” Ian replies.

“Fuck, no,” Mickey says. “I don’t wanna see that shit.”

“Mick, you don’t have to watch. We can stand up by her head. Hold her hand. Be supportive since she’s bringing our baby into this world.” Ian turns to Debbie. “Are you sure you don’t mind? We understand if you want to keep things private.”

“Ian. I gave birth to Franny on our kitchen table in front of… like, everyone. Kev saw my vagina. V saw my vagina. Fuckin’ Sean saw my vagina. Trust me, I don’t care if you two are in the room.”

Ian looks at Mickey. “Fuck… fine. We can be in there,” Mickey relents.

A nurse comes in to check Debbie and informs her she’s 100% effaced and 10cm dilated. It’s go time. Things move at a quick pace after that. More nurses come in, turning on extra lights, bringing in supplies, wheeling in the heated bassinet.

Ian and Mickey stand side by side to Debbie’s left, Ian holding her hand, while she pushes. It’s fast. She only pushes for ten minutes before they hear cries and the doctor’s holding the baby in her hands, declaring, “it’s a girl!”

The next thing they know, a nurse is throwing a clean blanket over Mickey’s chest, and another nurse walks over and places the baby, his daughter, in his arms, blood, vernix, and all. Ian expects him to be grossed out but Mickey just stares in awe at this beautiful baby. This baby that looks like him in the face, but has a head of red hair.

Ian steps up to Mickey and wraps an arm around his shoulders, placing his other under Mickey’s arms that are holding their daughter. There is not a dry eye in the room. Ian and Mickey are crying, Debbie is crying, even the doctor and nurses are crying.

The next hour or so is spent getting the baby, and Debbie, cleaned up and dressed. They take the baby and run the normal tests and give her a vitamin k shot.

Once Debbie is in a room, the nurse brings the baby in to her dads. Ian sits in the rocking chair snuggling her while she sleeps and Mickey is right next to them.

Debbie just gazes at this new little family from her spot in bed. “So,” she finally says. “What are you naming her?”

Ian and Mickey just smile at each other before Ian responds, “Debbie, meet Margaret Laura Gallagher-Milkovich. Maggie for short.”

Debbie’s eyes tear up. “You guys gave her my middle name?”

Mickey surprisingly fields this question. “We wanted her to be named after the person that’s responsible for her bein’ here. For helping’ create her for us. I know I give you a lotta shit, but I love ya, and I appreciate the fuck outta you, Debbie.”

“Aww, Mickey, I love yo-“ she begins before being interrupted.

“Don’t get fuckin’ used to it. I’m emotional today,” he snaps with feigned grumpiness. Then smiles at her.

They let Debbie snuggle her for a bit before being released by the pediatrician to take her home. Thankfully they had already installed the infant seat in their car so they were prepared.

They walk through the door of their apartment 30 minutes later. Ian sets the carrier down and picks the baby up out of it, snuggling her tiny body to his chest before passing her off to Mickey.

“I’m not sure what you were so worried about, you’re a natural, Mickey,” Ian says as he gazes at his handsome husband tenderly cradling their beautiful baby girl.

They walk over to the sofa and sit down, thinking about the whirlwind of a day. Not knowing when they got up this morning to take Debbie to the clinic that by evening, they’d be holding their daughter in their arms.

Ian wraps Mickey’s shoulders with his arm, places his hand on their swaddled baby and says, “Welcome home, Maggie Gallagher-Milkovich. Your dads love you so much.”

[unbridgeabledistances]

prompt: domestic gallavich/being intimate in a nonsexualway bc there’s like 3 weeks til the next episode 😐

your wish is my command, anon!<3 i decided to tie this into next ep bc i simply cannot HANDLE mickey’s outfit/big gay metamorphosis & i needed to create the scene that inspired it so i wrote this

a one-shot bridging 11x06 and 11x07 in which ian and mickey talk about “gay friends,” ripped jeans, and do a bit of processing along the way

tw for brief mention of homophobia/abuse (bc terry lol)

--

“How come we don’t have any, like, gay friends?”

Ian looked up from where he was laying on the ground, breathing heavily after a series of push-ups, a nightly routine that he was trying to keep intact even though he and Mickey were practically driving the entire circumference of Chicago every day to make weed deliveries from dawn til dusk, leaving them both exhausted. It had been a week since all the shit with Terry, and a month or so since he and Mickey had started the security gig; while months ago their evenings would be spent sitting side by side on the bed in a brittle silence while Ian read or scratched in his notebook and Mickey played games on his phone blasting at full volume in the pajamas he’d been wearing all day, these days the evenings in their bedroom were softer and warmer— like they were settling into the space together, like they were both on the same team instead of constantly clashing and butting heads while trapped in a too-small space. These days, after having dinner in the clamor of the crowded kitchen, he and Mickey would head upstairs and change out of their uniforms, and Ian would work out while Mickey mostly just lounged on the bed, sometimes making commentary and watching him bob up and down with a pensive smirk or scrolling through his phone.

But tonight, Mickey was quiet— his eyes flickered to the curves and edges of Ian’s torso every now and then as Ian broke a sweat, but otherwise he wasn’t playfully poking and prodding like usual.

Mickey had been a lot quieter in general this week, after all the stuff with Terry— Ian knew seeing the source of all of Mickey’s trauma in a wheelchair immobile from the neck down, the most vulnerable Terry could have been, felt worse than someone repeatedly twisting a knife in Mickey’s abdomen. But beyond the initial shock and the almost-murder and lugging him up the stairs, having Terry in a wheelchair twenty feet away did something deeper to Mickey. This whole situation shifted something solid that had been lodged in the pit of Mickey’s stomach for years— Ian could see it, and he fucking hated it. He hated Mickey’s glassy contemplative eyes as he looked out the car window while they drove to a new dropoff location, lost in his head when he thought Ian wasn’t looking. He hated the tightly wound tension between Mickey’s shoulder blades as he slept, curled into himself and twisted in the comforter, facing away from Ian on the other side of the bed. He hated the tight smiles Mickey gave him as he made some offhand joke about Terry when they could hear him cursing and shrieking through the open front windows, smiles that were trying to prove something outwardly but showed the barbed pain stinging at Mickey’s insides. Ian poured out what he could in soft touches, in skims of fingertips at the breakfast table and in an arm over Mickey’s waist while they slept; but he could only give as much as Mickey would take, and for most of the week Mickey had shut everyone out with iron walls.

Ian couldn’t imagine what was stirring in Mickey’s mind; he’d seen some of Mickey’s trauma firsthand, sure, and some of the stories about Terry came slipping through the cracks when Mickey’s guard was down— mostly on those late nights when they both couldn’t sleep and Mickey whispered into the crook of Ian’s neck as they were curled into each other, cradled in the dark silence of their bedroom. But Ian knew there was deeper shit that he hadn’t heard about, and he could see the constant fear of Mickey’s adolescence hanging heavy around his neck all these years later. But Mickey didn’t need anyone to push his walls down— Ian knew he’d open up when he was ready.

Which is why this random question, the most direct statement Mickey had really made to him all week, caught Ian off guard. He sat up, folding his arms over his legs and staring up at where Mickey was slouching on the bed, propped up by a pillow he’d shoved between his back and the wall. “Gay friends?” he asked, more than a little confused.

Mickey cleared his throat. “Yeah, gay friends, y’know. Like all your youth center queers that came to the wedding or whatever.” He suddenly looked down and picked at a fraying thread on his shirt sleeve, not meeting Ian’s eyes.

Ian raised an eyebrow in curiosity. This was random, sure, but Mickey wouldn’t have brought it up if something wasn’t weighing on him, bubbling up after all the events of this week.

“I don’t know— I guess since the pandemic and stuff, I haven’t really kept in touch with Geneva or any of those guys who came to our wedding. We only really talked after I got out of prison because of all the Gay Jesus publicity bullshit, but after you got out I wasn’t really thinking about that as much.”

Mickey blew out a breath, so quietly Ian barely noticed it. Ian stood, wiping his sweaty forehead and plopping down on the bed next to Mickey, folding his legs so their knees were almost touching— but still giving him space, still letting him breathe.

“Why’re you asking?”

“Don’t know, really. Just thinkin’.” Mickey picked at his shirt sleeve again, then flickered his gaze up to meet Ian’s eyes, two clear pools of glassy blue. “Thinkin’ about what life could’ve been like. If I wasn’t scared shitless of who I was for so long.”

Ian felt something twist in his gut, the same queasy pang of pain that always resurfaced whenever he saw Mickey like this, whenever he was reminded of all the unspeakable agony that Terry had put him through.

“It’s fucked up that you didn’t get to be who you were for so long, Mick,” he breathed, knowing that statement didn’t cover the amount of things that were fucked up about this situation.

Mickey ran his teeth over his bottom lip, like he was concentrating. “Yeah.”

Ian let them sit there for a second. It seemed like Mickey wanted to say more, but something in him was frozen solid. After a moment, Ian tried to break the tension.

“Hey, for the record, I’ve had lots of gay friends and you aren’t missing much. There’s lots of PC bullshit that’s important but took me fucking forever to learn— and even then, I never really felt like I totally belonged.” He gently nudged Mickey’s ribcage. “I guess that’s why I forgot about everyone, between work and getting to be with you all the time— I’d rather eat pizza in the mall food court with you than go to some boujee fucking café with the youth center people any day.”

The corner of Mickey’s mouth ticked upwards slightly. “Yeah. Guess you’re right.” His fingers went slack around the threads on his shirtsleeve he’d been picking at. “You don’t… miss it though? Bein’ around people who’re like us?”

Ian paused for a moment, imagining the youth center crew in the same room as Mickey— it would be fucking comical, like people speaking two different languages, like astronauts trying to communicate with aliens on Mars through gestures and confused looks. But that was just because Mickey didn’t know how to speak that language— he’d been kept shrouded in an abusive household with daily death threats for years, and then stowed away in prison where he didn’t have the chance to go to fucking brunches and clubs and education events like Ian could. Ian got the chance to learn all that shit— it wasn’t Mickey’s fault that he never did, and if it was anyone’s, it was all Terry’s.

Ian’s eyes flickered to Mickey’s face— he looked vulnerable and split open, like he was drifting away in all the possibilities of what could have been. When he answered, Ian spoke softly, carefully.

“I mean… I guess I do. There were nice parts of going out with people, or even those after-parties back when I used to work at the club. There’s something nice about being with your people, where you can make jokes about stuff or talk about deep shit and everyone’s on the same page. It’s hard to find that around here.” Ian tentatively crawled his hand over the blanket, letting it rest on Mickey’s knee. “S’there anything else going on?”

Mickey raised his thumb to his mouth, biting at a hangnail contemplatively. “Dunno, man. Just thinking. How it might be nice, to have friends like us. I used to be scared of hangin’ with other queers, but I think that was just some deep bullshit with Terry.” He looked up to meet Ian’s eyes. “It’d be nice to stop… hating that part of myself, or whatever.”

Ian smiled, reaching to intertwine his fingers with Mickey’s and tracing a pattern with the thumb that was free from their grasp on Mickey’s inner thigh, a soft touch of validation that Ian hoped would soak into Mickey’s skin.

“I think so too.” Ian watched the corner of Mickey’s mouth curve upwards. “I can definitely hit up some of the people I used to hang with, and see if they wanna get coffee or something? With the two of us? Only if you want.”

Mickey nodded— then chuckled a breathy laugh, like he was relieved. “Fuck it. Yeah.”

Ian couldn’t help it; Mickey looked so fucking sweet and so relieved that he had to press a kiss to the top of his head. Mickey squirmed underneath him, bristling like a cat that didn’t want to be pet like he did with most of Ian’s soft touches— but Ian just grinned and doubled down, pressing another slower peck onto Mickey’s temple. Mickey blew out a slow breath.

“Don’t know what I’d fuckin’ wear to a brunch with a bunch of Northside do-gooder gays,” he said after a moment, his voice wavering so slightly that no one except Ian would have noticed.

Ian rolled his eyes fondly, giving Mickey’s hand a quick pulse of a squeeze. “Mickey, are you kidding? Wear whatever the fuck you want. You don’t need to change yourself, that’s kind of the whole point.”

“Yeah. Fuck. Guess it is.” Mickey was quiet for a moment, but still chewing on his bottom lip, like he was building the courage to say something more. Ian could tell— he let the comfortable silence hang between them, knowing that Mickey would break it when he was ready.

“D’you think it’d be stupid if I, like, tried to… jazz up my look a bit?” He darted his eyes nervously to Ian’s face, down to their clasped hands, and then back to the covers again. “Like, uh— I don’t know. Maybe wore some shit that didn’t have holes in it. With patterns, or whatever.”

Ian felt his face split into a grin. Patterns, or whatever— god, he loved his dumbass husband so fucking much. He pressed another kiss to Mickey’s cheek— this time Mickey didn’t flinch away, his only resistance a forced roll of his eyes.

“Mick, I don’t think that’s stupid at all. I think you should dress however makes you feel good.”

“’Kay.” Mickey pursed his lips, like he was still hesitant. Ian rubbed his thumb over the back of Mickey’s hand, their fingers still clasped and hanging limply in Mickey’s lap. The silence was hanging again, and Ian could still feel the tight waves of anxiety bouncing off of Mickey. He took in a breath.

“I could… help you, y’know. If you wanted to dress a certain way. At the very least I could gas you up and tell you how hot you look.” Ian paused, smirking and running his eyes over Mickey’s torso. “But I could also help you pick shit out, or whatever. We could order some stuff online.”

Mickey looked up at him, his eyes oddly relieved and open in a way they hadn’t been in days. “Yeah?”

Ian softly smiled. “Yeah. Only if you want to. You’re you, and you don’t have to pretend to be anyone else. I love the way you look— hell, it drives me crazy, Mick. But— if you feel like you aren’t dressing the way that makes you feel the best, or like you’re putting on an act for other people and you don’t want to anymore— then we can figure this out.”

This time it was Mickey that initiated affection, lifting their clasped hands and pressing a quick ghost of a kiss to Ian’s wrist. Ian smiled in acknowledgement, then playfully raised his eyebrows. “You wanna look online now? I’m done working out and more than happy to help you gay up your look.”

Mickey unclasped their hands, playfully shoving Ian squarely in the chest. “Fuck you.” Then, in an uncharacteristic move from the way Mickey had been flinching away from his touches all week, Mickey leaned in closer to Ian’s chest, nestling his back on Ian’s sternum and reaching for his phone that was discarded on the blanket beside him. “Alright, hot stuff. Where’re we fucking shopping?”

Ian grinned and snapped the waistband of Mickey’s sweatpants playfully, shuffling underneath him and getting comfortable.

“’Kay, let me think. I used to order a bunch of shirts and stuff from Primark when I was going out with the youth center people. They have good denim, too.”

Mickey’s bottom lip was caught between his teeth again while he listened. He hesitated for a moment, his thumb hovering over the phone’s keyboard— then, in an automatic movement, he quickly shoved his phone into Ian’s hand, cheerfully wriggling back into Ian’s chest. Ian smirked and unlocked the phone, happy to take the reins— online shopping for fashion was clearly lightyears out of Mickey’s comfort zone.

Ian navigated over to the Primark homepage, plastered with torsos of toned models wearing striped button ups and ripped jeans. His thumb pressed down onto the “denim” tab, and he started to slowly scroll through the rows of options, holding the phone so Mickey could see.

“I don’t know what you really want, but they’ve got pretty cheap pants and shit that’re good quality…” Ian let his voice trail off, speaking softly to where Mickey was lying on his chest in a voice that he knew was tickling the shell of Mickey’s ear. Mickey almost seemed… nervous, or at the very least paralyzed by the wealth of options. He raised his thumb to his mouth, anxiously biting the hangnail again.

“I guess those ripped ones don’t look too bad.”

Ian clicked on the picture Mickey was referring to. They were black jeans, a dark wash and skinny cut, with patches ripped on both knees. Ian felt something well in his chest, probably an overreaction to a pair of jeans— but these jeans were perfect for Mickey. They weren’t too much, weren’t overly fashionable, but they still felt more clean-cut than the baggy pants Mickey usually threw on. These jeans were badass, and totally aligned with Mickey’s don’t-fuck-with-me vibe, but they were deliberate. Stylish. Like they were saying here the fuck I am.

“Yeah?” Ian knew Mickey could tell he was smiling from his voice.

Mickey smirked, craning his neck and turning to look up at Ian. “Yeah. Think I can pull ‘em off?”

Ian pressed his lips together. “Fuck yeah. You’re gonna look so good.”

Mickey just gave a satisfied smile, and nestled back against Ian’s chest again. “Let’s get ‘em, then.”

[phobiadeficient]

BLU M!Sniper and RED F!Sniper split roasting their lover M!Scout?

(warnings for roughness and mention of jealousy, possessiveness, etc)

He had to know it was a long shot, but there he was, giving her puppy eyes and trying his best to explain himself.


It was a bold thing to ask. And he admitted as much, admitted that he knew she hated the guy, and besides that he didn’t know how fond she was of... well, sharing. She spent probably half the time she complained about things complaining about the guy being a bastard, and a shitty sniper overall, accusing him of being a prick and having a big head and being a coward first and foremost. But also, Scout just thought, y’know, maybe...

And she had a very confident ‘no’ locked and loaded, ready to go, but then she looked back over at him and saw those puppy eyes again, and the only word that she managed to say after a minute was a particularly grumpy “Bugger.”

And when she eventually said yes—with a few stipulations—he didn’t exactly need to know, that... some of the problem was the fact that after a few years, her frustration with the other team’s Sniper had gotten a bit... charged. In a few ways. And she made sure to stress that she wasn’t going to be the one putting in the leg work to try to convince the bastard of anything, but she would be calling the shots.

The speed at which Scout agreed to all of that made her a little concerned that she was somehow being played, still.

Then apparently he actually managed it, then they were meeting at a bar, and Scout tactfully placed himself between the two of them at that bar so they wouldn’t strangle each other before they could talk, and she knew him well enough to be able to tell that his smile was just slightly forced as he looked between them.

“Uh, so, Snipes,” he said, and she raised an eyebrow at him. “Uh, we figured the name thing might get confusing, so I’ll still be callin’ you Snipes, but, uh—“

“Mick,” the other Sniper cut in before he could keep rambling. “Just call me Mick.”

“Funny, rhymes with ‘prick’,” she quipped.

His jaw tightened. Scout fidgeted, hurried to cut in again.

“Uh, but, yeah, I couldn’t get into details much since I figured we could kinda figure that stuff out a little better once, uh... once we get there, y’know?” he trailed, glancing around their vicinity briefly, self-consciously.

“I get the gist of it,” Mick said. “Agreed enough to show up, at least.”

“Not worried we’re here to ambush and kill you?” she asked.

“Implying I’m scared of you,” he said, and her grip on her glass tightened, and she was about to say a few choice words when she felt Scout’s hand on her knee, squeezing lightly, and she just huffed, taking another drink.

“So, if you’ve got any, uh, questions—“ Scout tried.

“Here’s one,” Mick cut in. “What are we all telling our employers?”

And he was surprisingly civil after that while they talked briefly about the implications for their jobs, and came to the collective conclusion that if one of them was screwed over, they’d all be screwed over, so they didn’t particularly plan on being rats. Sniper then informed Mick about a few house rules, mainly that if Scout told him to stop or let up, he’d damn well stop and let up, and that he could get rough if Scout asked, and Scout flushed all the way up to his ears during the entirety of it but for the most part she considered this important enough to ignore him.

And then they were finishing off their drinks, and then they were heading to the motel, and then Scout was getting them a room key and left the two of them alone for a moment.


She had Mick by the collar in a moment, yanked down to make up for the two or so inches of difference in their heights. “Alright, you listen here,” she growled, sunglasses pulled off for the moment. “I bloody well mean it when I say that I don’t want you trying to make this into a contest. He’s my boyfriend, end of story. No matter what happens, I had him first. Clear?”

“Too bad you apparently need to bring someone else in to help keep him pleased,” Mick smirked, grinning like a bastard, and the only thing she could think to do that would wipe that stupid fucking smile off his face better than a swift punch to the nose was to kiss him like she wanted to maim in the process, so that’s what she did.

When Scout came back not even five minutes later, he found them both flushed, hair a mess, looking borderline murderous. “So... we’re doin’ this?” he asked feebly, and was yanked bodily towards their room.

She found herself on top of Scout in bed, boxing him in and kissing him like the world was ending while Mick mucked around in the bathroom. She didn’t waste time before starting to pull him free of his shirt, of his belt, and wasn’t surprised to find him already half-hard by the time she got a hand into his pants to cup at him.

When she pulled away enough to try and get her own shirt off, she registered the surprise that seemed to be evident on Scout’s face, the vague confusion largely overshadowed by awe. And she took the opportunity to bend down, mouth finding the space just under his jaw, stopping there to nip and suck hard enough to make him jolt, groan, grip at her shoulders—not pushing or pulling, just holding on for dear life as she sucked a mark and finally pulled away to look down at him again.

“Mine,” was all she said, voice a growl, and he nodded vigorously, clearly already dizzied by the entirety of what was going on.

And then she heard the door to the bathroom opening, and she pulled back enough to glance back in the direction of it, and was only half-surprised to see Mick already shirtless. Still had the shades on, though.

“Be patient,” she murmured to Scout, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek to quiet the beginning of a complaint when she sat up and climbed off him, moving to her bag to get what she’d need.

And by the time she’d untangled the increasingly-familiar harness and gotten it most of the way on, she was distracted by the sound of a stifled groan. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that apparently Mick had taken over for her, and was two fingers deep and carefully spreading Scout open, quieting how loud Scout tended to get with a biting kiss.

She paused entirely to watch for a few seconds, surprised by how hot that visual was making her, sending a shiver clambering up her spine, and even slightly more surprised at how quickly he was working. Clearly he had some experience with this.

“Bring a lot of men around seedy motels?” she couldn’t help but quip, trying to distract herself from the heat thrumming through her.

Mick pulled away from the kiss to raise an eyebrow at her. That was when she noticed that apparently Scout had coaxed him out of his glasses. “Enough,” he admitted casually, tone entirely more level than it should have been given the way that, now without a kiss to distract him, Scout had needed to bite down on the meat of his own hand to keep quiet, a litany of pleased little noises pouring out of his mouth.

“I imagine this is just another Saturday for you, then,” she huffed, finally managing to get that one buckle that always stuck to cooperate with her.

“Nah,” Mick replied, glancing back down at Scout for a moment while he reached and took his by then straining dick in his hand, giving it a brief pump just to hear the way Scout’s voice cracked high for a second. “Have to admit, this one here’s been caught on my scope a few times besides just to shoot him. He’s good-looking.”

Scout looked like he very much wanted to reply to that somehow, but his first word was replaced by a choked noise as Mick twisted his wrist just so and squeezed around the head, thrusting his fingers once, hard. She caught Scout’s eye, saw the same awe on his face, like he wasn’t entirely sure this was really happening, then saw the hunger flit into his expression as she pushed the toy into place on the harness and finished tightening it. “You’re right on that,” she agreed, moving over and cupping at Scout’s cheek, feeling the heat of his face under her hand and grinning at the fact that he couldn’t seem to decide whether to look at the strap or at her face. “But if you think he looks good now, you should see him here in a few minutes.”

“Might not be that long,” Mick replied, glancing over at the attachment and pulling his fingers free, wiping off his hand.

“I’m, I’m good,” Scout agreed, nodding hard. “So, how are we gonna do this, are we—“

Mick shut him up with a pair of hands bodily flipping him over and promptly pulling him up onto his knees, and Scout’s shiver of pleasure at the manhandling was misread by Mick, who squeezed his hips comfortingly for a moment. “Me in front, yeah?” he asked Sniper, who nodded, Scout hurriedly stammering out in the affirmative as well.

And she was slowed down in her attempt to arrange everything how she pleased at the visual of Scout fumbling his way through trying to open Mick’s pants one-handed, just a little bit too pleased at the notion of sucking him off, taking him into his mouth with enthusiasm that was just a touch too much, made that jealous streak flare up for just a second, and she didn’t bother reining herself in as much as usual as she dug fingernails into his hips, pushing in.

That groan he always made at that initial push was muffled, then echoed by Mick as Scout sank further forward and apparently did something very right. She couldn’t tell as well from the angle she’d found herself in, and didn’t particularly care. She’d only care if those noises started sounding too strained.

“Pull his hair,” she suggested, pleased to find that at the very least, she got to be the most put-together. Mick glanced up, expression hazy. “He likes it.”

He did so without further commentary, threading a hand in through the longer hair up at the top of his head and tugging, using it for leverage to push him down further. Scout groaned his appreciation, a distinct flex in his back letting Sniper know he was honestly leaning in to it just as much as Mick was pulling.

Alright, she was coming around. He won. Scout was right. This was a good idea.

She didn’t bother warming him up into things, knowing that he’d sometimes complain about her going too slow when she did it on normal nights, and he’d be even more frustrated if she did now. She just started straight into rocking her hips in steady motions, knowing by then just the right rhythm to leave him breathless without making her get too out of breath. She could keep it up for a good, long time, and always ended up enraptured at the way Scout melted, arching into it and gasping and moaning and gorgeous.

This time, he was a little distracted by clearly putting a good amount of effort into sucking off the other man, but even then he was noisy, and that only made Mick buck into his mouth all the more often.

“Gorgeous thing,” Mick choked, petting through his hair for a moment before snaring it and using it to buck into his mouth with more intent than before, and Scout just moaned, tilting slightly to accommodate. “God. Like you’re bloody made for this.”

“You have no idea,” Sniper said, breath a bit hard but still even, rhythm speeding for a moment to make Scout squirm. “I go too long without doing this to him and he gets so needy. He’d probably beg, if I made him wait too long. The way he begged for this tells me that much.”

“He’s blushing,” Mick informed her with a breathless sort of chuckle, and she saw that his ears were indeed turning red. “Poor thing. Can’t even defend himself with his mouth full.”

Scout made a quiet noise in the back of his throat that might have had something to do with the little extra roll Sniper put on the end of her next thrust, but Mick raised an eyebrow, pulling him back from his hair.

“Somethin’ to say, there?” he asked, hand falling to tip Scout’s chin up, and Sniper heard the way he was panting and slowed down her thrusts, knowing how close he had to be if he was making that kind of noise on the exhale.

Scout panted for another few moments, and finally made a disgruntled noise, shifting his weight. Sniper had to move forward with him a little bit, and he choked on breath for a moment before he recovered enough to speak. “If you’re gonna fuck my mouth, do it already,” he said, voice harder than expected. “And, and you can pull my hair harder than that.”

Sniper chuckled at Mick’s expression, slightly taken aback but clearly thrilled by this turn of events. “Alright then, get back down here,” he rumbled, and Scout did with enthusiasm, and then the pace was shifting.

She waited until Mick found his rhythm before she matched it, stepping up a notch, moving in double-time with the thrusts into Scout’s mouth. The skin of their thighs slapped together and Scout made desperate little noises every few thrusts, clearly completely overwhelmed by the way he’d gone so lax she needed to hold up his hips some amount for him. She only stopped occasionally to try and catch her breath or to readjust, shifting to long, slow strokes aimed as best she could to drag mercilessly against his prostate, and Scout whined helplessly each time it happened, bucking for emphasis until she started back up into the speed she’d had before again.

Mick seemed to sense something she didn’t—probably aided by the fact that he could see Scout’s face, feel his moaning—and told Scout to stroke himself. He did, moaning kicking up in pitch with his desperation, and that pushed Mick over the edge, swearing and fucking more roughly into Scout’s mouth before he spilled with a hard shudder. Scout moaned his pleasure when he could get air, strokes slowing down as he focused on not choking, and then his mouth was freed and he was panting and groaning against Mick’s thigh, rocking more firmly back into Sniper’s thrusts.

“Gonna come for me?” Sniper crooned in the sweet, teasing voice that always made him shiver when he was like this. “C’mon, we wanna see.”

Mick hummed in the affirmative, petting through his hair. Scout’s head was tilted a bit now, and Sniper watched Mick’s thumb drawing across his bottom lip, watched Scout’s eyebrows screw together with it, eyes falling closed, and Sniper filed it away as something she should try on him later. She moved to those long, firm strokes again, and Scout choked on nothing, going tense, jerking under her.

“Gorgeous,” she praised, rocking once and twice more for good measure, and he unclenched his teeth enough to gasp at it, and then he was relaxing, breathing hard.

She pulled free slowly and carefully, and Scout’s grunt of vague discomfort was muffled, Mick having leaned down to kiss him, still dominating but considerably more gentle than before. She left them to it as she stood to unclasp the harness, a little out of breath herself.

She’d only gotten one leg free when a pair of arms snaked around her waist, a familiar nose pressed into her hair, a breathless little chuckle fanning against her overheated neck. “Hey, c’mon, what about you?” Scout mumbled, half teasing and half hopeful.

She scoffed, but it was hard to get much feeling behind it. Seeing him like that, and the way the strap pressed against her as she’d been fucking him, and how hot the whole situation was, it all added up to make her feel… well. A good bit more turned on than she’d thought she would be. “What about me?” she asked, kicking free the rest of the way and trying not to separate from him.

“I want you to like this, too,” he said, and she jumped a little at the feeling of fingers trailing at her inner thigh.

“You don’t need to do that, I’ll be—“ she started, and was cut off as her breath hitched, Scout having gotten bold enough to push his fingertips against her more firmly. Her exhale was shaky as he trailed his fingers against her, the slickness there under his callouses apparently taking both of them by surprise if Scout’s little gasp was any indication.

“Jesus,” Scout whispered, sounding a little awed, a little desperate. “C’mon, please? I can’t just leave you like this, I wanna—“


His index and middle fingers found either side of her clit, rubbing with just the right amount of pressure, and her knees threatened to buckle for a moment. “Ngh,” was what she managed instead of a proper response, pulse hammering, and she gasped outright as Scout’s other hand rose to cup and squeeze at her breast, making her arch. “Christ, I, fine, just—“

He nosed her hair aside, pressing a kiss into her neck and kneading at her just so, his own breathing a little shaky.

“Wait,” she bit out, and he stopped, freezing in place.

That gave her time and brainpower to move, turning around and pushing him down onto the bed again, boxing him in with her legs before leaning down, kissing him absolutely silly. His noise of confusion morphed into a noise of contentment, hands finding her waist almost automatically. When she pulled away again a long moment, he was flushed and clearly a little dizzied, his lopsided smile on display. “That a yes?” he asked, hopeful.

She glanced him up and down. “Mostly I’m just surprised you’re still up for more,” she admitted. “Figured we’d put you through the paces already.”

“Nah,” he said, squeezing appreciatively for a moment. “You know I’m always up for more of whatever.”

“Even after getting fucked two ways in one go?” she asked, eyebrows raising.

“Especially,” he admitted, head turning for a moment to glance at the other man, who admittedly she’d almost forgotten about. Mick appeared to be about halfway through a cigarette, shamelessly ogling the two of them, making no attempt to cover himself up and grinning a little when she met his eyes.

Mick looked at her for a moment, then down at Scout, who she felt shift a little under her, clearly preening at the attention, at the heat there. Mick stretched his neck from one side to the other languidly and reached to tap out his cigarette before he looked back over at Sniper. “You’ve got rubbers, yeah?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. She nodded. “How about I take back and you take front this round?”

She blinked, glancing him over, then down at Scout. She was honestly a little surprised to hear they were ready to go again already, having not expected much more than that first round and maybe an attempt to crowd into one mattress if Scout was feeling particularly needy after. But then she looked at his face, and Scout seemed to be trying his hardest to give her his best puppy eyes.

“Bugger,” she sighed, and Scout grinned.

[thecleverdame]

Control and Release - 32

Series Masterlist

TEDTalk!Sam x Reader

Summary: After the rest of the staff is caught in a snowstorm, you find yourself acting as a personal assistant to the notorious Sam Winchester. As the arrangement becomes more defined, you and Sam begin a sexual adventure with dangerous consequences.  

Warnings: Dom/Sub, humiliation, embarrassment, sexual objectification, mutual masturbation, spanking, cum play, fingering, anal play, orgasm control, nipple clamps, dub-con, breath play.

Beta: @ilikaicalie

Parts 1-41 are currently available on Patreon for a monthly pledge of $2.50. This includes early access to all my stories, including Patreon exclusive content.  >> CLICK HERE <<

-

Without fail, Sam used to wake up early and go to the gym. He’d be up before the crack of dawn, sweating out all his frustrations and pushing himself harder than he probably should.  That was before. Things have changed. It’s no longer as easy for him to jump out of bed and start the day. Life has shifted. It didn’t happen all at once, it was little by little, his obsession with work waning as you become a focal point in his life.

It’s before five. The streets are quiet, most of the world still asleep as Sam lies on his side watching you. He’s been awake for an hour, silently watching your back rise and fall. It’s dark save a tiny bit of ambient light filtering through the curtains, but it’s enough.

This isn’t a new thing. Lately, he wakes up early and uses these moments to think, to wrap his head around the constant chaos that’s his life. And his favorite early morning pastime is watching you sleep.

This morning you’re belly down on the bed, a hand shoved underneath your pillow. The side of your breast is soft and round and warm. He thinks about how warm and soft your skin is. He gets lost in the middle of meetings wishing he could touch you, feel you pressed against him.

The blanket is pulled just over your ass, leaving your naked back exposed. There’s a subtle rise and fall as you breathe deep and even, lost somewhere in dreamland. You’re perfect and you don’t have a clue.

He stares at the curve of your hip, that slope of your waist that he likes to grab on to. You’ve told him you’re self-conscious of that part of your body but he can’t imagine why. Everything you fuss over he finds flawless. You were beautiful when he first met you, it’s part of why he pursued you. But the more he gets to know you,the more breathtaking you become. Every day he notices some new little area he wants to touch and kiss and watch while he fucks you.

Time in London is coming to an end. It’s been eight weeks of nonstop work but he’s confident in the expansion of his business. Toni will run things here, and she’s good at her job. He’ll be able to go home without worries about the day to day.

He should feel satisfied, but he finds himself unsettled.

In these quiet moments, he thinks about himself. Who he is, the man he’s become. He’s honest. He knows returning home will mean a shift. No more sharing a hotel room, back to the grind of the work week. He’s enjoyed this time with you, become accustomed to your constant presence in his bed and in his life. He doesn’t want to go back to how it was. You with the shitty apartment that you insist on staying in. Weeknights alone.

He should just tell you what he’s feeling but he doesn’t even like to admit it to himself.

You shift, cheek rubbing over the pillow, mouth falling open as you settle back in. Jesus, he’s done for and he knows it. This is as good as life will ever get. He’s fully aware that he doesn’t deserve you, doesn’t deserve to be this happy. And he doesn’t trust it. In his experience, the next misfortune is always waiting right around the corner. Adversity is always hiding in the shadows, one moment away from total catastrophe. He’s balanced on a house of cards hoping a stiff breeze doesn’t blow him over.

“Sam,” you whisper, eyes blinking open and closing just as quickly. You’re still asleep. This is Sam’s favorite.

“Hmmm?” he hums, stroking a hand up your back, grazing over a shoulder blade.

“I like you so much,” you mumble, stretching out long. You’re dreaming and he wonders what goes on your head. Your inner thoughts are the thing he wants most but will never have access to.

He grins, watching your face fall lax again as you slip back into the deep.

“I like you so much too.”

-

He fell back asleep without realizing it and when he wakes up for the second time he’s not sure where he is. There’s an overwhelming pleasurable sensation and when his eyes pop open he realizes why.

The covers are pulled back and you’re on your knees between his thighs with his cock in your mouth.

“Fuck,” he rasps, hands going to the crown of your head.  Your mouth is unbelievable, hot and wet, always perfect around his cock. And the way you suck him like you’re getting off on it is enough to make his balls go tight.

“Good morning.” You smile as your mouth pops off his dick. Wet lips pulled back over pearly teeth as you grin like the Cheshire cat.

“Shit,” he chuckles, forcing himself awake as he looks down at you. You caress him, palm curled around him and stroking over the head of his cock and back down to the root. Slow and steady as you dip back down and take the tip into your mouth.

When he’s in charge you’re gagging on him, mouth drooling, eyes watering with him shoved into the back of your throat. But there’s something just as appealing about this, you happily sucking his cock, tonguing around the crown before taking him into the back of your mouth.

Your other hand cups his balls and he thinks he might blow his load right here and now. You’ve gotten good at reading his body. You’ve been studying him the same as he’s been memorizing you.

“Get up here,” he huffs, tugging at your hair. You respond immediately, almost always obedient to his orders.

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you knee your way up, straddling his waist. You lean down to kiss him, a wet, happy kiss that makes his belly flip. He simultaneously loves and hates the way it feels to be this affected by anyone.

“I thought I’d wake you up.” Grinning against his mouth your pussy rubs along the underside of his cock where it’s curled up against his stomach. You rub yourself on him up and down, letting the crown rub over your clit until he’s coated in your slick. “God, you’re so hard.”

“I woke up with my dick in your mouth.” He gives your ass a squeeze, both hands cupping your backside as you slide up and down his length. Jesus, he could watch this all day. The way you take his cock between your folds, teasing the head only to slide back for another pass.

He’s close already, he normally holds out longer than this but you’ve caught him in a vulnerable state.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” His teeth click together, head pressing back into the pillow. He opens his eyes just in time to watch the first spurt of cum shoot over his belly. You make a wonderful little sound, grabbing his cock and quickly sinking down on him as he finishes his orgasm inside your pussy.

“I like it better inside me,” you quip, raising yourself up and down on his cock, fucking him through it as he jerks and bucks from the release.

You kill him when you say things like that. He’s the one with the filthy mouth but sometimes you whisper things that make his cheeks red.

“You want me to fuck you?” he offers, sitting up, holding your hips in place. You smile, both hands threading through the hair at the back of his head.

“You’re still hard?”

“That was some blowjob.” You giggle as he flips you onto your back, mouth falling open, thighs squeezing around his hips as he slides back inside in a slow thrust.

“Better hurry, you’re going to be late.”

-

7:30am

He has a budget review meeting that’s dull as dirt despite Mick’s colorful personality. It’s his money and reputation on the line. There was a time when that alone was enough to keep him hanging on every word but not anymore.

8:30am

Pepper delays his skype call with a financier in Tokyo to deal with a minor crisis back home in Boston. He’s been away too long and apparently, people have forgotten what the expectations are. There’s been a mix up with documents for a legal case in New York. A courier handed off the wrong folder. They’re looking at a delay and possible reprimand for compromising a client’s personal data. There’s also a leak in the men’s bathroom on the eighth floor that requires a total overhaul. That means a construction crew and several dozen employees temporarily relocated.

10:47am

Sam’s forty-seven minutes late for the weekly wrap up led by Toni and Mick. True to her style, she didn’t wait for him. She’s in the middle of dressing down a guy in middle management when he enters and all eyes shift to him. He glances at Toni and then around the room at the sea of semi-familiar faces before he lands on you.

There’s not enough room, so chairs have been added against the sidewalls. You’re sitting behind Cole, notepad open. God, he’s happy you're here. Not that he’ll be able to talk to you, but just being in the same room is something. You flash him a smile that’s a far cry from every other somber face in the room. There are sixty W & S employees who are scared shitless of him and then your wonderful face lights up when you see him.

He returns a hint of a smile but it’s enough acknowledgment for you go back to your notes. Millie who’s sitting beside you looks away the second he makes eye contact with her.

12:30pm

Pepper has sushi delivered and you arrive at his office right on time. He’s got a video conference with the board. You silently take a seat on the other side of his desk, eating and watching him get into over market fluctuations.

Twenty minutes later he’s off to his next appointment. He gives your hand a squeeze as you turn to leave.

“Sorry we didn't have a chance to talk.”

“It’s okay,” you smile giving him a wink. “I know how busy you are.”

Standing on your tiptoes, you kiss his cheek. It’s soft and quick and far too sweet for anything he deserves. You could make a big deal out of this if you wanted to. You could demand more of his time and God help him, he’d find a way to make it work because he won’t lose you. But you never make him choose. Occasionally you swoop in with a gentle reminder to attend to your relationship, but other than that you respect his dedication to the business. He’s forever grateful for that.

Pepper comes in with his jacket, ready to whisk him away to a waiting car.

“I love you,” you whisper at the shell of his ear, so quiet he scarcely hears it.

He’ll never get used to anyone saying those words to him, least of all you.

He sits through his meeting getting lost in his own thoughts. He wonders if his mother used to whisper those three little words to him when she laid him in his crib. If he tries hard he thinks maybe his dad said it once or twice.

Sam had successfully categorized himself as unloveable long ago. He’s an asshole. His reputation hinges on his ability to be level headed and utterly ruthless. Love was something for men who weren’t permanently damaged.

And yet here he is.

When he gets back to the office, his schedule is jam-packed. He never used to mind it, running from one meeting to the next. He got a high from it, an adrenaline rush from the breakneck pace. Work filled every waking moment and that was how he preferred it. He didn’t have to think about anything else, every waking moment was filled with strategies and budgets and concepts ripe for the picking. He was all in.

Today he finds himself between meetings, locked in a private bathroom on the second floor just to have five minutes of peace. He’s already late for a follow up with Mick and there’s a laundry list of information he should be reviewing. But instead, he’s sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, staring at the wall.  

Maybe he’s getting old. That must be it. Time waits for no man and age is finally catching up to him. He needs to talk to his nutritionist and get back to a normal routine. Watching you sleep is an indulgence that he’ll have to let go of. He needs sleep and the gym. He needs self-control.

-

He doesn’t get back to the hotel room until just after eight. He wants to stay in, he’d prefer nothing more than to order room service and lay in bed but that’s not his life.

“Hey!” you call out from the bathroom. “Welcome home.”

“Thanks,” he glances around the room at several dresses hanging from various perches. “Are you going out?”

“Yeah, I was gonna tell you.” You wander into the main room in a bra and panties. Sam swallows hard. “I can’t decide what to wear. What do you think?”

“What’s the occasion?” he asks.

“Mick invited us all to this bar for drinks. It’s a going-away thing. You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, of course not.” He needs to tell you. “In fact, I have plans as well. Toni and I are going to dinner. One final review before I leave.”

“Oh,” you return quietly.

You’re facing the bed and he watches your whole back go tense.

“I can’t avoid these kind of situations simply because I have a past with her.”

“I never ask you to.” You turn toward him, eyes meeting. You’re pissed. Or maybe it’s just jealousy.

“I know and I appreciate that.”

“She thinks she’s better than me. She looks down on me as if I’m some little girl. A comical annoyance that she’d prefer to squash if she could. She makes me feel small.”

“I don’t want anyone to make you feel that way.” He’s not sure what to say. Does he reassure you? He’s not sure if you’re looking for a response or simply sharing your feelings. “Will Cole be there?”

“I’m sure he will. Along with twenty other people.”

“Then don’t wear the black dress, it’s too much for a work function. The red one is better.”

He loves the way you look in that little black dress. It’s not revealing but it hugs every curve and there’s something about the length of it, the amount of thigh it shows. He can’t stomach the thought of Cole sizing you up in his favorite dress.

“I’ll probably be out late,” you explain, pulling the red dress on and turning around for him to zip you up. “See you later.”

-

Sam’s half done with his meal listening to Toni talk at length about her last vacation in the south of France. He might be there in body, but his mind is elsewhere.

He’s been thinking about Jess lately. She used to only pop up on quiet, lonely nights. Blurry images of her face flashing before she slipped away. But this last year she’s been in the forefront of his mind.

For years he could hardly remember her face. The details faded with time and she was like a distant memory. A story from somewhere else’s past. But over the last few months she’s flooded back to him.

He can remember the way she smelled. Sweet and fruity, a body wash she used to buy that gave her skin this faint scent of strawberries. He can taste the chocolate chip cookies, feel them in his hand, still warm from the oven.

Their apartment was a small one-bedroom with creaky wood floors and low water pressure, but nothing ever felt more like home. Her stuff was everywhere, she bought her entire life with her, a household of belongings. He brought a duffel bag of clothes and a single family photo.

She gave Sam little pep talks. Anytime he expressed even a hint of self-doubt she’d crawl into his lap and tell him a hundred reasons why he was wonderful and capable and meant for greatness.

The memory shifts and he can feel her skin. He used to stay up late studying, crawling into bed well after midnight. She’d peel her pajamas off, kissing him as he did the same. That soft strawberry skin was like silk under his hands, every inch of her pressed against every inch of him. She’d whisper in his ear when they fucked. Sometimes sweet, sometimes filthy. But it was always about love; the way she loved his touch, his cock, his heart.

And then, just as life was better than he ever could have hoped for, Jess was dead.

All that warmth and love, the home, the life, it was gone like it never existed.

“Are you even listening to me?” Toni sits back in her chair, crossing her arms.

“No,” Sam admits, setting the cloth napkin on the table next to his plate. “Today was brutal. Just going over it in my head. Pulling a game plan together.”

“Well, I’m ready for a nightcap.” She raises her arm to get the attention of the server. “Why don’t we go back to your place and review the projections one last time. Get a headstart on tomorrow.”

“Sure.” He nods. “Sounds good.

-

Sam and Toni head back to his room, and he pours himself a glass of water, opening his laptop and waiting for her to finish in the bathroom. She’s been in there for ten minutes and he’s starting to wonder if something is wrong when she finally emerges.

She’s in her underwear, white lace panties, and nothing else. Her breasts are small and perky, hard nipples already at attention. Her body doesn’t look much different than when she was younger.

Shit.

“Toni,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is not…”

His words leave as she slinks toward him, practically crawling onto the couch.

He momentarily wonders if he’s become detached. Reading people has always been his forte but this but takes him so off guard that he’s stunned, a deer in the headlights as the moment unfolds.

There are a thousand thoughts at once. She’s a beautiful woman, a beautiful naked woman and yet he finds himself indifferent. He needs to make this as painless as possible, needs to find a way to turn her down without making things so awkward that they can’t work together. Sam needs Toni to run the London arm of his company, he can’t alienate her. You’d be so mad if you knew this happened. Does he tell you? He’ll worry about that later. He’s not done anything wrong. You’ll understand, you always do.

“Stop,” he hisses, pushing against the back of the couch.

“Come on, Sam.” She flashes a confident grin, then yanks his shirt from where it’s tucked into his pants. “For old time’s sake.”

“I said stop,” he says again, watching in wonderment as she doubles down. One hand slides into his hair, the other at his belt, getting him half unbuckled before he gets his wits about him. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” she purrs. “Come on, you have to want something more exciting than getting your dick sucked by a glorified secretary. Judging from all the pent up tension I’d say you’re in need of a little more satisfaction.”

She’s making it exponentially worse.

He draws in a breath and hesitates. Is this happening? Of all the things he’s got going on this is the last thing he needs. She takes his silence as encouragement and leans forward, pressing her lips against his mouth.

“That’s enough,” he grabs her wrists, pushing her backward. “I’m not sure what about our interaction has led you to believe this is something I want, but I don’t.”

“You have to be kidding me.” Sitting back on her heels, she examines him, eyes narrowing.

Sam knows her. She wants him because she can’t have him. Because of his status and the power he wields. More than anything he’s willing to bet the appeal comes from the fact that she’s competitive. She doesn’t like that you have something she wants.

Toni likes to be at the top of the food chain.

“Get dressed.” Sam scooches back, clearing his throat. “We’ll pretend this never happened.”

“You’re turning me down?” She holds her head held high. “Seriously?”

“This isn’t going to happen. Let’s just-”

There’s the familiar electronic beep of the keycard being slid in the lock and the door opens.

You stop dead in your tracks, a happy-go-lucky smile melting away from your face as you come upon the scene of the crime. Looking back and forth from Sam to Toni your mouth falls open, eyes going wide.

Fuck. Fuck.

Sam’s frozen, looking in horror at you standing in the doorway. You’re dumbfounded, the reality of what’s happening taking time to sink in.

“Good evening, Y/N.” Toni sits up straight, proud little smile with her tits on full display. “We didn’t think you’d be home so soon.”

Your mouth snaps shut, eyes darting from her to Sam and he wants to punch the wall. Wordlessly you turn and walk out of the room.

“Goddamn it!” Sam shouts. He grabs Toni’s wrists, giving her a yank. “Get dressed and get the fuck out of my room.”

By the time he makes it to the hallway, you’re halfway to the elevator.

“Y/N!”

“What?!” When you turn back you’re wild-eyed, fighting back tears. Your mouth contorts in repulsion. “Jesus Christ Sam! I can’t stand to look at you right now.”

“Don’t overreact.” Fuckfuckfuck. He knows it’s the wrong thing to say, even before you recoil. He can’t think fast enough, the words are just tumbling out of his mouth.

He can’t remember the last time he panicked like this.  

“Don’t overreact?!” you sputter, taking several steps away from him. “Fuck you! I trusted you. I must be so stupid. It never even crossed my mind that you would do something like this.”

“Nothing happened,” he counters, holding up both hands with palms out.

“Don’t lie to me. Something sure as fuck happened.” You look him over from head to toe, so disgusted that your mouth sours and you have to look away yet again. “For a guy who’s all about the details you’re not covering your tracks very well. You’ve got her lipstick on your mouth and your fly is still down.”

“What?” Sam feels at his crotch and sure enough, he’s unzipped. He’s not sure when that happened. “Look, she tried and I-”

“And you what? Let her take her clothes off? Did you fuck her?”

“No, of course not.” This is bad. He can see the escalation, the hundred ways this situation can get even worse.

“I don’t get it.” Your voice breaks as tears slip down both cheeks. His heart falls into his stomach. He’s hurt you a million different ways, both intentional and unintentional, but this might be the worst. “I thought we were in a good place. I try everything you want. I gave you a blowjob this morning. What could you possibly want from her that I’m not giving you?”

“Nothing,” he reaches out, moving toward you and you step back in tandem. “Nothing happened. I know this looks bad, I get that. But nothing happened. You came back at the worst possible time, but nothing was going to happen. That’s the truth.”

“Oh, this is my fault?” you yell. “I need to get out of here. I have to think.”

You’re tipsy, he can see it now. The wobble in your step, the way you tilt your head.

“Don’t leave.” He grabs your arm, forcing you to look at him. “If you leave it automatically makes things worse than they are. You can stay here and be pissed at me. We can talk. I’ll sleep on the couch. Just don’t leave, please don’t leave.”

Your face softens, teeth sinking into your lower lip as you consider his plea.

He knows how desperate he sounds and it makes him sick. Despite the love he has for you it’s painful for him to beg anyone for anything.

Crossing your arms over your chest you look toward the door. “She’s still in there.”

“She’s leaving.” He gets close enough to put his hands on your shoulders and nearly breathes a sigh of relief when you let him. “Just let me get her out of there. Don’t go anywhere.”

[mickmarstookmyheart]

Skylar

Summary: What can I say? Prepare tissues.

A new era for Mötley Crüe. A new era for Vince Neil. At least every cloud has a silver lining. Maybe he lost the Crüe, but he had Neil, Elizabeth, and little Skylar. A couple of years had passed since he left the Crüe and hardly anyone called him or asked about his whereabouts. Except you. You had a conversation almost every other week, also met once or twice a month. It was good to hear about him and his children. You tried to convince him about to come back but he refused. Although, once you almost managed to, but the boys already found another singer.

"What are you doing today, babe?" Mick asked while packing his stuff in the bedroom. They started to do the new album and they will most likely spend one or two days there.

"Do the shopping then maybe meet Heather and have a girl night." You shrugged. You exactly where you will go, you just still didn't want to tell him. He didn't need to know yet.

"Sounds good. Give my regards to her." He stepped in front of you, placed his hands on your hips, and pulled closer to him.

"Promise me that you will rest, alright?" You asked him looking him in the eye.

"I promise." He pecked your lips and pulled you in a big hug. You smelled in his scent from his hair. "Are you sure you don't want to come? I'm sure they won't mind."

"Yeah. I have some other things to do but I will drop in, okay?"

"Okay." He gave you a last kiss and headed towards the car. You waited by the window until he left and you couldn't see the car, then you picked up the car keys and sat in your car. You had butterflies in your stomach from the excitement and about the whole situation. You gripped the wheel strongly and took a deep breath.

After you got to the hospital, cause that's where you needed to be, you parked the car and walked to the reception. You asked where is the doctor and nervously stepped in the elevator. When you left the lift you saw Sharise in the corridor, she had her face covered with her hands. You rushed to her and kneel in front of her.

"Sharise, hey what is it?" You placed your hand on her knees and squeezed it.

"(Y/N)? What are you doing here?" She sniffed. She wiped away her tears still she was shaking like a leaf.

"Doesn't matter. What happened?" You didn't talk with her, to be honest, you hadn't spoken to her since 1991 but it was heartbreaking to see her like this. "Sharise, you need to tell me! Is it about Vince? Or the children?" She didn't look at you just continued whimpering. You sighed. "Please, just tell me."

"It's... it's about Skylar." She finally spoke up. You felt your heart racing that something really bad happened to your niece.

"What happened to her?" You asked her nervously. You adored that little girl and would do anything to save that angel.

"She had a stomachache recently, but I thought she had a flue or something." She sobbed. "Then it got worse and..and she has cancer." Tears flooded down her cheek, you sat beside her and hugged her tightly. You couldn't say a word. There was a knot in your throat which made even breathing hard. She snuggled in the crook of your neck and let out everything. "It's my fault. If I didn't do those thing she might have..."

"Sharise, stop. Don't blame yourself. It could've happened to anyone. Stop degrading yourself." You hushed. You stroke your fingers in her hair to calm her which she accepted gladly. You gulped. When you set off from home you thought it would be a happy day with great news. But hearing this, you thought maybe having a child isn't the best idea after all. You were scared. This could happen to your still unborn child, too.

After she calmed down you left her there a bit to cancel your appointment at the doctor's and help Sharise in everything. Your baby could wait.

"Does Vince know?" You asked her.

"No, I haven't told him yet. I just got the news when you arrived." She said cleaning her face with a tissue.

"You want me to call him? Or get him by car?" You offered with a sad smile. She didn't say anything just nodded gratefully. You sighed and got up, looking for a phone. You dialed his number and waited. Waited and waited. After a few minutes, you tried again when he finally picked it up.

"Yap?"

"Vince, it's me, (Y/N)." You said.

"Hey, what's up?" You were sure he was smirking on the other side. But it was no time for that.

"Where are you?" You asked seriously.

"Umm, at home I guess. What is it? Did something happen?" You hesitated. "(Y/N), I can hear from your voice."

"It's about Skylar. I will go pick you up, a few minutes, and I will be there." With that, you hung up and ran down to your car. You didn't want Vince to drive in his state. You were devastated, too, but it was harder for him. You drove at a quite high speed to got there as soon as possible. Vince was already walking in front of his house kicking into some stones.

"Hey." You greeted him while he sat in the front seat beside you.

"(Y/N), what happened to her?" He asked angrily. You bit down your lip and told him everything you knew.

∆

It seemed ages until you waited there. You and Sharise were sitting on the seats whereas the singer was walking around restless.

"Why they don't let me see her?" He ranted.

"Vinnie, calm down. We want to see her just as bad as you." You tried your best to sound calm. At the same moment, the door opened and the nurse and the doctor exited the room.

"When can I go in?" He asked the doctor.

"In a couple of minutes, sir, don't worry."

"Don't worry? Are you serious? My daughter has cancer! How I supposed to not worry?" He cried.

"I'm sorry. Who is the mother?" He turned to you and Sharise. Sharise stood up. "Miss, can I ask a few questions?"

"Sure." She said rubbing her plan in her pants.

"Until then, you and he can visit Skylar." He said gesturing at Vince.

"Thank you, doc. Vince, come!" You called for him and cautiously opened the door.

"Well hello, Skylar baby." You greeted her. Your heart broke seeing like this. She was pale and was so many machines beside her bed you couldn't even see her properly. You felt tears running down your cheeks but kept the bright smile on your face.

"Auntie? Why are you here?" She asked happily. So she felt better than looking. Good to hear that.

"To see you, darling. I missed you." You walked over to her and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

∆

Mick was sitting on the couch and was dealing with his guitar. They announced an hour break finally so he could rest as promised. It was almost night and you haven't made an appearance yet. Maybe this girl night was happening and you had a great time. He was glad that you were happy with friends, at least you were happy. Sure he liked you, you were the reason he was alive. You were the only hope in his life, but he felt guilty for having you. You were such a great and beautiful woman he couldn't believe you liked him.

When they finished a couple of songs, and John wanted to go home, Mick also felt the urge to see you and to have a rest. When he said goodbye to Tommy and Nikki he stepped in the street and approached his car. He stopped when he saw your car there, too. He narrowed his eyebrows and looked in the car. He saw you sitting there, your forehead on the wheel. His heart skipped a beat.

"(Y/N), hey, what are you doing here? It's freezing in here." You lift your head when you heard the noise. He placed his hand on your hand then your back.

"I'm sorry." You sniffed. You hated to cry in front of him. Or just anyone else. "I thought I would wait here, I didn't want to interrupt anything."

"You never bother us, you know that. Oh, come here." He pulled you close and placed a kiss on the top of your head. "Were you crying?"

"No, just somebody spit in my eyes."

"(Y/N)!"

"Of course I was crying, damn."

"Did you watch a romantic movie with Heather or what?" He tried to cheer you up. He hated seeing you cry or just sad.

"Yes. It was a heartbreaking movie. The sad thing that it was based on a true story. And I wouldn't necessarily say it was a romantic movie. More like drama." He looked at you questioning. He didn't think it was this serious. You know he wanted to know but he didn't want to upset you again.

"So I was in the hospital and I was..."

"What were you doing, there? Are you sick." He asked with wide eyes.

"No. And that's the least important thing now. So when I was there I saw Sharise. And she told me that...that Skylar is sick. She has a tumor in her belly." You sniffed. You looked down and played with your soaking wet tissue. "So I want my compensation and money back. I hated this movie."

"Goddamn. I'm so sorry. If I had known I would visit you there."

"You didn't know. And things happened so fast I couldn't even think about anything else just when Skylar went to sleep and the doctor told me to leave the building. And then I came here."

"Then let's go home. Or if you want, we can break into the hospital to see Skylar." He joked.

"No, I think it has been quite an exciting day already." You smiled taking his hand.

"Then let's go home."

∆

Nightmares after nightmares. Well, even if you managed to sleep. You were constantly rolling in the bed and couldn't get Skylar out of your head. Poor little thing. You put your hand on your belly and sat up so you were sitting on the edge of the bed. When you felt the urge to vomit you quickly rushed to the restroom.

"Are you okay?" Mick asked sleepily when you got back to bed. Maybe it was the time to tell him. Surely not the best time but you needed to tell him. It was his right to know.

"No. I mean yes but I think it's normal in my condition." You smiled. Mick raised his eyebrows understanding the situation.

"Are you pregnant?" He asked happily. You nodded and Mick cupped your face and place a kiss on your lips. "We are gonna have a baby." He whispered placing his hand on your still flat stomach.

"That's why I was in the hospital. I wanted to be sure that everything is alright." You leaned your head on his shoulder and put your hands on his. "But I would like to remain this a secret, okay? Not because I'm not happy about it, just I want everyone's attention on Skylar right now. I don't want to be a distraction."

"Sure, good idea. But I'm not sure how long I can hide my happiness. Those bastards will notice it."

"Then be strong and put your usual grumpy face on, please. Do that for me."

"I will try." He said with the biggest smile on his face you have ever seen.

∆

Weeks passed and it was harder and harder to hide Mick's face and also your belly from the others. You visited your niece every day now, and you always found either Sharise or Vince there with her.

"Good morning, monkey." You said while you stepped into the room. To your surprise, only Vince stood in the room by the window. "Oh, I thought Skylar was here, too." You closed the door and put your coat on the hanger. You stood beside him and handed him a cup of coffee.

"Thanks." He looked at you gratefully. He took a sip from his coffee and then he quickly looked back at you. "You need to eat more salad and quit eating that much, (Y/N). You put on some weights."

"Look who is talking. You know if you have to eat instead of two you will have a big belly." He still didn't get it.

"Mick is not eating or what?" You sighed and rubbed your belly. "Holy shit. Are you with child?" He finally understood it.

"Yeah. But don't get too excited. We need to focus on your daughter right now." You said. "Anyway, how Elizabeth and Neil accepted it? Or do they know?"

"They do know but they are still children. They don't feel the weight of it."

"Are you sure?" He was insecure about it. He felt terrible for not visiting his children, but he needed to be here.

"Speaking of, did you tell the boys yet?" He asked gripping the cup in his hand.

"No, only Mick. But he won't tell them, his mind is a bit occupied now with the album and...about her." You rubbed your belly.

"Is it a girl?" He asked smirking. Finally, a smile which you didn't see in a while. You nodded smiling. "Congratulations, (Y/N)."

"Thanks." After a few minutes, some nurses brought Skylar in. She was still sleeping from the operation so you sat down beside her. When Vince noticed you fell asleep he put a blanket on you and sat back to his chair waiting for her daughter to wake up.

∆

"Are you going to see Skylar?" Mick asked when he helped you tie your shoelaces.

"Yeah, you coming?"

"Yes. I want to see my niece and maybe have a talk with Vince. He is getting worse but I'm trying to beside him, even if we don't play together. He needs someone to rely on."

"You are great. How do I even deserve you?" You cupped his face and pecked him on the lips.

"I can ask the same." He said rubbing your big belly. "Are you ready young lady?" He asked your daughter while gently pressing his ear on your stomach. "I think she is ready. She kicked my face so that supposed to be a yes." You hummed feeling your little warrior having a dance party in you.

∆

"Hey, Vinnie, we are here." Mick opened the door for you and you stepped in. Your heart broke when you saw Skylar crying along with Vince. You tightened your jaw and tried to smile, but you failed. "Hello, Skylar. How are we feeling today?" You took the girl's little hand in yours, sniffing.

"Bad. My tummy hurts. Can you stop it, please?" You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, honey. But these doctors are here to heal you. They learned much better at school so they can help you, darling."

"Did they always do the homework?" She asked. A slight smile appeared on her chubby face. She looked horrible. She had as dark circles under her eyes as Mick's hair yet she was pale as a vampire. Her hands were cold but that shine in her eyes was still there.

"Yeah, they did. Unlike me. I was quite a lazy one." You smiled.

"Still are," Mick said with a smirk on his lips.

"Thanks. Vinnie, you can go if you want, we will be here with her." You told the singer who calmed down a bit. He cleared his throat and turned to Mick.

"Can we talk?" He asked Mick who looked surprised but nodded and left the room.

"Are you okay?" Mick asked rubbing the singer's back while sitting in the corridor.

"She told me that...she told me not to let to cut her again. She begged me, Mick. I..I can't do this anymore. I can't hold her down anymore while the doctors make her sleep. I just can't." He said placing his hands on his face. Mick sighed and he was proud of Vince. He respected him in every way. He was beside his daughter no matter what.

"I'm here for you, Vince. I know that things happened and I can't undo them, but you can always rely on me, also (Y/N). And I'm sure Tommy and Nikki feel the same even if they don't know about Skylar."

"Thank you, Mick. I can't believe you willingly help me. So you didn't tell them?"

"No. I didn't know if you want to tell them. So I didn't say a word."

"I think it's the best," Vince said while glancing at his ex-bandmate.

∆

15 August 1995

She is gone. Skylar's system gave up in the morning after months of fighting. She was laying in the bed, her little face finally in a calm position. She looked like if she was just sleeping. But you knew she wasn't. She will never wake up.

Mick held by your waist while you took Vince's hand and held it strongly. On the other side of the bed, Sharise and her family were watching the little body with sadness. Tears flooded down your cheek and you felt a knot in your throat. You couldn't say a word. Just stood there supporting each other.

After Sharise left the room and you felt dizzy a bit you asked Vince if he needs anything but he just shrugged. You didn't want to leave him there but you weren't really well. Your head was pounding and was truly exhausted.

"Are you sure you don't want a doctor to see you?" Mick asked still near the hospital.

"Yeah, just tired. Today just took all my energy away, don't worry." You told him sadly.

∆

A week after Skylar's funeral, you were already in the hospital. Your little girl was eager to come to this world.

"How is she?" Nikki yelled running in the corridor when he heard that you got there.

"I don't know, bassist! How do I need to know?" Mick snapped pulling his hair from the stress. He couldn't be there with you.

"Alright, chill," Nikki said while taking a seat next to Tommy, Heather, and Doc.

"Don't worry, Mick. I'm sure she is okay." Doc said with an encouraging smile.

All of them turned to the door when a nurse exited the room.

"Mr. Mars you can come in." She said happily.

"And we?" Tommy asked.

"You need to stay here for a bit."

"That's so unfair." Tommy pouted and crossed his arms.

Mick relieved when he saw you with your daughter in your arms. He approached the bed and placed a kiss on your sweaty forehead.

"Hey, darling. You are so beautiful." Mick whispered to your newborn baby.

"Indeed she is."

After a few minutes, they took your daughter to clean up.

"Hey, (Y/N)," Nikki said grinning.

"Omg, she looks so cute," Heather said admiring your daughter.

"And what's her name?" Tommy asked curiously.

"Everyone, come and greet, Hanna Skylar Mars." You announced.

Tags: @leatherandheels

[nakedmonkey]

Holy bacon bits I shrieked when I saw you’d reblogged this shiz... 16 + 21 OR either one by itself :-) you pick 💋

<3 

“I thought you were dead” + “Pin my hands above my head” kisses

*****

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Mick, for the 15th time, I am fine.” 

He helps her to the couch and is surprisingly gentle in setting her down, holding most of her weight so she doesn't have to strain.

“I don’t know–you’re bleeding. Kind of a lot.” 

“For a dude with multiple face tattoos, you sure are squeamish.”

“I don’t like blood.” 

“You’re full of surprises, Mick.”

He actually looks like he might faint, and Beth actually feels bad for the guy. He looks like Danny when he sees blood, and when Danny sees blood, the only thing that will keep him from freaking out is a chore.

“Will you grab me a glass of water, please?” 

“Yeah.” 

She lets him figure out where the glasses are himself. She figures the longer she can distract him, the better. Just when he’s opening the pantry, the backdoor is flung open and Annie storms in, still in her robe and pajamas, phone pressed to her ear, and Beth already knows that’s Ruby on the line.

The second Annie sees her, she rushes to her side, already scoping out Beth’s thigh for the source of all that blood.

“Yeah, I’m here, hang on a sec–oh, my god, are you okay? She’s bleeding to death, Ruby.”

“Jesus!” Beth snatches the phone out of Annie’s hand and steadies her voice as best she can when she speaks into it. “I am not bleeding to death, it’s just a scratch.” 

“I don’t know, man. Looks like Old Faithful to me–move so I can see.” 

“I’m sorry,” Ruby cuts in. “Old Faithful? Should you be in a hospital?”

“No.”

“I can handle it,” Annie says, like it’s obvious. “You’re gonna have to take your pants off.”

Beth waves her off as she continues to reassure Ruby, “I swear, I’m fine. Everything is fine. Just trust me, okay?” 

Ruby sighs heavily while Annie sits at Beth's feet, waiting for the call to wrap up.

“Fine. But i swear to god, if I find out you bled out, I’ll kill you.” 

“Fair enough. I will call you in the morning.” 

“Kay. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” 

“What about me?” Annie pipes in, but Ruby hangs up. “Rude.” 

The moment Beth drops the phone, Rio bursts through the front door, jaw set, eyes glaring at everyone in sight, but most directly at Beth, who is trying to seem like just sitting up straight doesn’t send a shooting pain all along the side of her thigh and leg. 

“She alright?” He asks Mick, who nods curtly. 

“Stray bullet grazed her. Bleeding a little, but she’s good.” 

“That’s too bad. Maybe if she’d lost a leg she’d learn that when I say she shouldn’t come, it’s not really a suggestion.” 

He’s looking at her when he says it, nostrils flaring with barely contained anger, but Beth hasn’t bled out and so she’s not about to back down so easily. 

“Excuse me, you didn’t say ‘you shouldn’t come’, I asked you who you were meeting, and you said ‘it doesn’t concern you’.” 

Annie snorts at Beth’s “Rio voice” but sobers up at the pointed glare Rio shoots her way, getting up immediately to excuse herself. 

“You know what? I think uh, I think you’ve got everything under control. You’re not dead, so. I’m going to skedaddle. I do have a house full of kids right now, so.”

“Yeah, where are the kids?” 

“Nance is with them, relax.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Mick offers, following Annie out of the house. 

The second the door clicks shut, Beth barrels right into it before Rio can talk over her.

“Before you say anything else, I just want to reiterate that if you just learned to use your words with the mere capacity of  like a five yeard old with basic communication skills, this wouldn’t have happened.”

He’s still glaring when she gets up and limps through her bedroom, into the bathroom, where she pulls a first aid kit from under the sink.

It hurts a little still. A radiating kind of pain, like a bee sting. A very big bee sting. But if she complains about it, she’ll never hear the end of it and she’s tired, so she makes quick work of pulling off her pants, only wincing a little when pushing past the wound because Rio’s right behind her, stopping in the doorway to watch her work. 

“It’s just a scratch,” she tells him. “It’s a big scratch. But just a scratch.” 

He crosses his arms and she hears him exhale.

“I mean, I was bound to get shot, right? To be honest, I kinda always thought it’d be by you, but -- best laid plans or whatever.” 

She cleans it quickly, then holds a wet towel to it, breathing shakily through the pain, her own rambling distracting her. 

“And before you start lecturing me, I wasn’t even there long. I left when you told me to leave, because unlike you, I can read a room. But the shooting started pretty soon after that and I just jumped in Mick’s car, because I’m what? Quick on feet.” 

She does hiss a little when she attempts kicking off her jeans, sighing with relief when she finally manages it before leaning back against the bathroom counter. She barely has a moment to register him moving, when he’s in front of her, and cupping her face, and then he’s kissing her. One, two kisses, and on the third he lingers there, hands on her face, and a little desperate.

When he pulls back, he swiftly wraps his arms around her, crushing her to him and she can feel him actively breathing her in, clearly unable to voice his concern, though there’s no need. He’s never held her, not like this, and the emotion wells up in Beth’s throat when she hugs him back, gently rubbing his back. 

“I’m okay,” she reassures him and he nods against her shoulder before slowly drawing back, his attention quickly returning to her injury. 

Now he kneels in front of her and turns her sideways so he can take a close look. 

Beth’s still processing the unexpected moment of tenderness when she hears him grunt his disapproval. 

“This is gonna scar, I hope you know that.” 

Rolling her eyes, she steps carefully around him and back into the bedroom. 

“I’m fine!” 

“Hard to believe that when you’ve got blood gushing out of your leg right now.” he gruffs behind her.

As she rummages through her dresser for a pair of shorts she can wear to bed, she hears him flop down on the bed, and when she turns around, pair of blue silk pajama shorts in her hand, he’s flat on his back, face covered with both hands.

“Okay, I feel like people need to calm down about this. The overmebellishing is...a little much.” 

“It’s like you’re incapable of hearing ‘no’. I say ‘don’t go’ and it’s like an invitation to you.” 

Beth sighs and drops the shorts on the floor in favor of carefully climbing astride him on the bed. 

“Look,” she starts, sitting low on his waist. “Don’t take this the wrong way because I’m obviously very fond of you for the most part, but please, just shut the fuck up.” 

His hands fall away then and his face scrunches into a hilarious grimace. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Do you want to keep barating me? Or do you want to have sex?”

She gasps when he flips her onto her back, and then laughs at the disgruntled look on his face despite evidence of the opposite pressing into her. 

“Careful, I’m injured.”

“Thought it was just a scratch, tough guy,” he counters, pushing her hands above her head and holding them there with one hand while the other ventures lover down her abdomen and under her shirt.

“Yes, but I’m fragile.”

She squirms when he grazes her ribcage on his way to cup and gently squeeze her right breast.  

“You’re a lot of things, but fragile is not one of them.” 

She tugs at her hands but he pins them harder, leveling his gaze to hers as he does so. 

“Just once, do what I tell you and stay still.”

She’s about to hit him with a surely excellent comeback when he kisses her. All smooth and mind-numbing. When he nips at her bottom lip, she moans softly, then grunts when another attempt to free her hands gets her a counter squeeze of her wrists, and when she feels his tongue do that thing that makes her head all swimmy, she relents, deciding it’s in her best interests to just let him think he’s won.

Just this once. Because really, they’re both winning. 

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

The Governess and The Doctor’s Hunt for the Copper Beeches (3/4) | Platonic!Molly Hooper and Reader

Prompt: Poison

Fandom: BBC Sherlock

Words: 2401

A/N: Third part of Hunt for the Copper Beeches. No Sherlock x Reader, but there will be in the next part, which might be the last. Got carried away with this one, but there are more moments of Molly and Reader being a detective duo. Some of the plot is inspired by The Murder Pit by Mick Finlay. Fans of Doyle and Sherlock Holmes would like The Arrowood Mysteries. I’ve only read one book so far, and it’s pretty good and a bit darker.

-

For the first time in a long time, Molly called out of work to help you find the boys. You had asked Mrs. Hudson again to look after Rosie while you and Molly went hunting for the rest of the clues.

You had decoded the last message that you found in Birmingham and did a little research on the activities that have been happening in that area to figure out why John and Sherlock were there in the first place. They were following the trade routes for the black market, some being mere storefronts or market stalls.

One clue after the other, you and Molly hunted them down, decoded them, and became one step closer to finding the boys while also learning how those locations were connected. With each location and trace found, Molly wrote them down in a notebook, the clue paperclipped onto the corresponding page. When you weren’t looking, Molly would take pictures of the pages and send it to Lestrade.

The next message took you and Molly to the countryside, miles away from London. She sat next to you nervously, looking out the window of the train before looking down at her phone typing away.

“You sure we’re going to the right place?” Molly asked.

“That’s what the message that Sherlock left for us said.”

“And you’re sure it’s from Sherlock?”

You frowned, a sinking feeling in your stomach.. “Of… of course. I mean,” you sputtered, “Who else would it be? The clues were made in a way that only I would be able to decipher them and only Sherlock would know that…” You scratched your head and sighed. “Are we in over our heads? I thought we were so close and-”

“I’m sorry, (Y/n), I didn’t mean to make you second guess yourself. I just worry, you know, that’s my thing,” Molly said, squeezing your hand reassuringly, “I’m still going with you. We need those boys back at Baker Street.”

From the station, you and Molly had to take a cab to the next town. The driver had given the two of you a strange look. “No one really goes there,” he had said, “Only the locals go in and out of the town.”

Did the black market trail that the boys were following led them all the way out there? It was a small town where everyone knew everyone there. Which would likely mean that they won’t take kindly to strangers. One bar where all the labor workers hang out, one church for everyone to live in denial of all the not so innocent things they’ve done, one hospital that runs on nepotism and old practices, and always that one family that runs everything.

The cab dropped you off near the church before driving back to the other town as soon as he got his payment. You and Molly stuck closer to each other as you made your way over. If everyone knew everyone, then Sherlock and John would have stood out like a sore thumb. You hoped that talking to someone in the church would at least be more pleasant than fishing for answers from drunkards at the bar.

The church was small and musty, the candles weren’t lit, but there was enough lighting from the chandelier and the sunlight filtering through the stained glass windows. You slowly walked forward, passing through the pews towards the front.

A side door opened, revealing a graying haired priest. His light blue eyes studied the two of you for a moment before walking straight over to the confession booth. You looked over at Molly, wondering if you should go in. She drew her lips into a thin line as she frowned, not liking the idea of splitting even if you were in the same room. You both agreed that she should wait directly outside of your booth as a lookout, ready to signal you with a knock if something happens.

“I think you should show him the letter,” she whispered as the two of you walked over. “Only if he’ll see reason.” You nodded.

You slipped into the confession booth and the partition on the reverend’s side slid open.

“Now, what brings you here, child?” he asked.

“I think you know, Father,” you said, “Or else you wouldn’t have gone straight in here.” He stayed silent. “What can you tell me about the Copper Beeches farm?”

He sighed. “The Copper Beeches? Only that it’s run by the McGregor family that’s been living here for generations. They’re the main farmers in this town.”

“And they’ve contributed a lot to the town, I’ve seen,” you said, recalling the signs that you remember passing. McGregor park, McGregor Tavern, McGregor Hall. “All that money from farming?”

“That’s what they claim.”

“You don’t believe them?”

He let out another sigh. “My family has been here for just as long and many here goes along with what they want. It’s their farm that’s keeping this town afloat, they said. If I say anything, what will become of those who live here? The workers? The ones that can’t afford to leave?” The reverend shook his head. “I can’t say any more.”

“Father, one last question,” you pressed, “Please.”

“Okay.”

“There is a letter that was sent to my residence from the Copper Beeches Farm. I want you to read it in hopes that it’ll help you in your decision.”

You left the envelope on the bench and walked out. Molly quickly went to your side and you both walked out, leaving the reverend to his thoughts. Molly was right, though, it was dangerous for just the two of you, especially in a town like this. Residents gave you either a hard stare or a harsh glare whenever you passed by. No one else will readily be friendly with the two of you.

“Wait!” the reverend called out after you. You both turned, seeing him holding up the letter. “The church has a shelter where the two of you can stay for the night. We provide everything. This does not mean I’ve made my decision, just that in the meantime, we would need your help on a matter, if you’re willing.”

“Depends on the matter,” you said.

“Are either of you a doctor?”

“I am,” Molly said, stepping forward.

-

There were a few patients at the shelter that weren’t able to afford going to the hospital, so the church were doing all they could to take care of them. While it had been a while since Molly had dealt live patients, she could still identify whatever was ailing them. Luckily, they weren’t too severe that any of them needed surgery, just a lot of monitoring and medicine.

“If this letter is true,” the reverend said that night, “Then my decision will not come easy.”

“Of course, Father, I wasn’t expecting it to,” you said, eyes leaving him to watch Molly checking up on another patient. “But I knew that you cared about this town, which was why I gave you that letter.”

“What is the meaning of this letter, though?”

“There’s a lot going on at the Copper Beeches Farm than anyone realizes or refuses to see. Our friends had gone to help, you see, and they haven’t come back in weeks.”

“I see,” he said softly, “Be warned, the McGregors do not take well of being challenged. I’ve seen people disappear just for being in their way. The police are on their side and sweep these incidents under the rug. Whatever had happened to your friends, I pray that they did not suffer from the same fate.”

“Thank you, Father.”

That night, you and Molly went over your shared notes to decide what to do. The letter had been sent to John and Sherlock during their first few days of investigating the art black market trail signed with the initials E.M. from the Copper Beeches Farm. It was a concerning report of the activities within the town and that the McGregor’s are at the center of it all, including evidence that the missing people around town were, in fact, murdered.

“And how are all of these related to the McGregors?” you muttered.

“Maybe,” Molly said, “They’re using their produce shipments to help smuggle the items.”

You sucked in a breath, wondering why you hadn’t connected the dots before. “Of course! The stores that they sell the produce to are near art galleries, museums, and the docks.”

“Some of the patients here admitted that there had been businessmen that would travel in and out of town as well,” Molly added.

“I’m guessing our next stop is the farm.”

Molly sighed, pulling away from the notes to stretch. “Just the two of us? We know how dangerous they are.”

“That’s why we need to wait for the reverend’s answer.”

With that, you decided to rest, locking the door before turning off the lights. As soon as the two of you fell asleep, there was a creak on the old wooden boards of the outside hallway, the passing of a flashlight leaking under the door briefly, then it was gone.

-

You were yanked from your sleep by a hand shaking you furiously. You gasped awake, seeing Molly in a panic as she left your side to open the windows. She grunted as she tried to lift it up to no avail. It was then your sleepy brain registered the rancid smoke flowing into your shared room through the cracks of the floor boards.

You sprung into action, trying the door that was locked tightly from the outside, jiggling the door knob furiously before pounding on it, yelling for help. The smoke was creeping into your nostrils, making you gag as you stumbled over to Molly. Even with the two of you, it wouldn’t budge. You ran over to your bag, rifling through it until you found your pocket knife. You flipped it open, jamming it into the framing, hoping to pry it from its stuck position. It budged just an inch or two when you heard pounding at the door.

“Dr. Hooper! (Y/l/n)!” The reverend shouted.

“Father, there’s some kind of gas in here,” you said, digging out scarves from yours and Molly’s bags.

You handed one to Molly and wrapped one around your nose and mouth. Molly did the same and continued to get the window pane open, grabbing the pocket knife from you and managed to get it open all the way.

“The windows have bars over them,” Molly said, “We need to find the source of the smoke while they get that door open. The window would bide us time now that there’s air circulating.”

“The floor,” you said, looking around for something to pry the wooden planks.

The door shook as the others tried to shove the door open. You began to jump up and down, looking for any weak spots or loose boards. The smell still seeped through the scarf, but you tried to not breathe in too deeply. Two of the floorboards near the door rattled as you jumped on them. Molly kneeled next to you and helped you lift the boards up, revealing a leaking gas canister.

“Stand back!” A woman shouted from the other side of the door.

You and Molly shuffled back and watched as one of the nuns broke the door open with an axe. The Reverend rushed through with a gas mask and heavy duty gloves, picking up the gas canister and sealing it into a sturdy container that was quickly rushed outside. The others had opened the windows in every room, a rush of fresh air blowing in.

“Deal with this on a regular, Father?” you asked.

“Unfortunately,” he sighed, “Is everyone alright?” You looked over at Molly who nodded. “Good… I think… I’ll be helping you. This has been going on for far too long.”

-

The plan was to meet up with E.M. first, as they were the one to send the letter. With that, they could help you and Molly find the boys at the farm and hopefully, if all goes to plan, either Lestrade or Mycroft would turn up. You added Mycroft as a possibility, as it had to do with international smudging as well as general worry for his little brother, no matter how much he denied it.

The reverend knew who E.M. was and arranged a meeting at the church. You and Molly waited at one of the back rooms as a figure entered the church. They made their way over to the confession booth, heels clacking and echoing through the building. When the door of the confession booth closed, you walked out first and sat on one of the front pews, followed by Molly.

“I’m taking a long nap when all of this is over,” Molly muttered.

“Same. I don’t know how the boys do it.”

“Well, they’re practically adrenaline junkies.”

“True.”

A woman in a dull blue dress stepped out of the confession booth, scanning the pews until her eyes landed on the two of you. She walked over and sat next to Molly.

“Mister Holmes and Doctor Watson are being held in the basement of the McGregor estate,” she said in a hushed tone. “The farm’s being run by three brothers, two of them have wives, but they’re not allowed downstairs. The wives take care of the barn in the morning and two of the brothers go out into town for business.”

“Are you aware of what might happen when they are arrested?” you asked.

She nodded, head held high, but her hands were wringing together. You couldn’t help but note that her hands looked strong and had signs of callousness on her fingertips. “And I have a plan. The sooner we get rid of the McGregor brothers, the better.”

“No farm help?” Molly asked.

“There is, but they keep their head low, minding their own business. Most of them would leave with the brothers into town anyways.”

“Thank you for helping us.”

She simply gave another nod before heading out of the church. The reverend stepped out and sat at her vacated seat.

“She’s one of the wives, isn’t she?” you asked, watching her leave.

“Yes, Elise McGregor. She takes care of the people in town, but her husband only allows her to go out for church and grocery shopping.”

“No wonder she’s helping,” Molly said.

“Yeah, let’s start moving, then.”

[takadasaiko]

Love Me Twice: Chapter Seventeen

FFN II AO3

Summary: Ressler and Park follow a lead to Bonn, Scottie arrives in DC, and Tom hits a wall with his memory therapy.

Chapter Seventeen

Cooper had sent Ressler in as lead to Bonn in part because he needed a seasoned agent with a deep understanding of the delicate nature of their situation, but Ressler was also the one with a contact there. He had known Mike Weiss in Quantico and the two had traded favours over the years, especially when Ressler had been abroad so often with the first Reddington Task Force. He was always good for a few beers, a collection of absurd stories, and - if Ressler was lucky - an answer or two if he could get him around to it. Weiss was the kind of guy everybody liked and he loved to be the center of attention. It didn't hurt to gather intelligence either.

He motioned for another round and Ressler heard Park's less-than-subtle sound of annoyance as she excused herself for a moment. Weiss chuckled. "That one's wound up almost as tight as you used to be."

Ressler's lips quirked you at the corners. "She's a good agent."

"Most people that tightly wound have something to hide."

"I'll vouch for her."

"I don't care. I know you. I know you're clean. So listen fast." His voice dipped a little so that it was hard to hear him over the music and the chatter. "Emilia Schmitz isn't a name you want to toss around in this town. She's a ghost that supposedly died around the time the Berlin Wall fell. She was East Berlin and vicious."

"What's she doing here?"

Weiss quirked an eyebrow. "What makes you think she's here?"

"A case I'm working. There was a man named Petrov that blackmailed a German attaché to deliver a file. We think it was being sent to Schmitz. What do you know about her?"

"I know mentioning her name can get you killed." He took a long drink from his stein. "Maybe… eight or nine years ago her name came across our radar for a case. Had these partners that were like bloodhounds. Mick and Jamie. They could find anyone with just a scrap to go on."

"Could?" Ressler echoed.

"They'd just started making progress when Mick got hit crossing the street late one night. Car drove off without stopping and left him bleeding in the street. He didn't make it to the hospital. Jamie picks up the trail, right? She's pissed, swears up and down it had to be Schmitz somehow. Three days later we found her dead in her flat. Local cops ruled it a suicide and I got word in from D.C. to drop the case."

"Did you?"

Weiss offered a small shrug. "Alan Fitch made the call himself. You don't exactly tell the Assistant Director of National Intelligence no."

Ressler made a small sound of acknowledgement. "Saying you will and doing it are two different things."

"What'd I miss?" Park asked as she returned and Ressler watched his old friend's expression close off.

"Just reminiscing about Donnie's mishap with the lap pool second week into training," Weiss answered lightly and that was that. The rest of the night was chatter and a frustrated Park, even as Ressler worked through the details of the story and the fact that a known Cabal leader had been the one to cut the case off at the knees.

As they wrapped it up for the night Weiss - a little clingy that many beers in - wrapped an arm around Ressler's shoulders, pulling him in and hanging into the front of his jacket. "You got one of the best here," he told Park and she tried not to look as irritated as she clearly felt. "Sorry I couldn't get you what you needed."

Weiss offered Ressler one more squeeze and sauntered off. Park rolled her eyes as they started for the door. "What a waste of time."

"Maybe not," Ressler mumbled as he patted at his own jacket, feeling something that felt suspiciously like a jump drive in his inside pocket. Leave it to Weiss. The bastard always had had a flare for the dramatic.

--------

Liz remembered her own memory extraction had left her feeling violated and in desperate need of solitude and a shower from the inside out. She'd been taken and drugged against her will only to find out that she'd been used as a child to traffic one of the most dangerous blackmail files that the world had seen. It still left her unsettled all these years later and the vague reference that Krilov had made after Ressler's equally twisted experience with him to the fact that he'd screwed around with her mind yet again only made it worse. Part of her wondered if, after Tom had his memories back, she should speak with Selma about trying to find out what had been altered or taken from her the second time, or if it had just been an attempt to throw her off her game. If history had taught her anything it was that the not knowing was just as dangerous as knowing in the life she led. Another part, though, didn't want to crack open yet another round of danger. Maybe when this was over she should just be done.

Not that Reddington would let her.

Thankfully Tom's experience with the memory extraction hadn't been quite as horrifying. At least it wasn't all bad. Where Liz's buried memories were filled with smoke and fire and gunshots, Tom had a mixed bag. He had been exhausted after the session, falling asleep next to her on the couch as she'd worked. It hadn't been until late that evening that the nightmares had crept in, but even as he'd come flying off the couch like he was ready for a fight he could only remember pieces of what he'd seen. It was something they would have to talk to Orchard about when they saw her later that day.

Before that, though, Liz needed to get Agnes safely dropped off at school.

The four year old had wanted nothing to do with leaving the apartment that morning. Liz wasn't sure if Tom had won all that affection through pancakes for breakfast since Agnes had re-met him or if she remembered him on some level. Their kid had always been more intuitive than Liz thought was possible and she'd loved her daddy before he had been snatched away from them. He could always get her to laugh, that giggle filling the whole apartment and he was all she'd known in the first month of her life. Even in the painfully short time that they had had in Cuba together after they'd run, Liz had seen it. Tom had changed over the years, but Agnes had taken that growth to a whole new level. Now, even at the beginning of the process that they hoped could return his memories, she saw that connection between dad and daughter, and it had been a chore to get her out the door without him.

Now she just had to get her to her classroom and they'd be doing alright.

"Grandma!" Agnes squealed, pulling Liz out of her thoughts as they crossed the parking lot.

She tugged her hand almost free, but Liz clamped down a little harder just in time. "Hey, you know not to let go of my hand with cars around," she chided softly and followed to where Agnes had tried to run.

Scottie Hargrave stood on the sidewalk, her skirt and sleeveless blouse perfectly pressed and a sharp look fixed on Liz. It softened as it shifted to Agnes, and as they reached the safety of the sidewalk, Liz let her go. Scottie showing up without warning couldn't be a good sign. Let the grandkid work her charm on her first.

Agnes flung her arms around Scottie's long legs. "Hiiiii! Mommy didn't say you were here!"

"I thought I'd surprise you," Scottie answered, her tone light.

"But I gotta go to school," Agnes pouted and looked to Liz like she hoped she'd give her another option.

"Yep. School's a must," Liz answered.

"What about this?" Scottie asked and there was something in her tone that said as much as Liz was willing to let Agnes' natural adorableness soften whatever Scottie was about to drop on her, Scottie was willing to use her granddaughter to get her foot in the door. "I'll pick you up after school and we can get ice cream?"

Oh…. Liz never stood a chance against ice cream.

"Ice cream!" Agnes cheered and hugged Scottie again. "Love you, Grandma!"

She started towards the door where her teacher was waiting. "Hey, what about me?" Liz called after her, her lips quilting up at the corners in a teasing smile.

"Love you, Mom!" Agnes shouted with a wave and was gone.

"She's just like Tom was at her age," Scottie mused softly and Liz would have bet a sizable chunk of change that she knew exactly what Scottie was doing there. Her mother-in-law turned a look on her.

Liz squared her shoulders just a little. "Why don't we get out of the pathway?"

"No, I think we should have this conversation right here." Brown eyes caught hold of blue and the older woman held her gaze. "I'm not sure what I did to offend you."

"What makes you think I'm offended?"

"I took Agnes in for months so that you would have time to process everything and grieve. I understood. I was mourning him too." Her tone was biting, the boiling rage just barely kept under control. "I kept it to myself because I thought you needed time. I suffered in silence so you could heal and that sweet little girl - my Christopher's little girl - wouldn't suffer like we did. And this is how you repay me. Why?"

Liz bit back the first snarky reply that came to mind and then crushed down the truth that she'd suspected Scottie at first. That wouldn't do either of them any good now. Instead, she stepped off the path and under a tree, waiting for Scottie to move with her. "Because I just found out he's alive."

"Is that so? When? Because there had to have been enough time for you to tell that insufferable partner of yours and for him to run a DNA test. Did you really think —"

Well, at least Liz knew how Scottie had found out. She would deal with Ressler later. "A week and a half ago," she cut her husband's mother off. Might as well fill her in at this point or she'd start digging and who knows what she would throw off balance. Liz had never wanted Scottie for an enemy. "He lost about a decade's worth of memories. He didn't remember me or Agnes. It's been…. busy."

She watched shock slowly settle if Scottie's features. "Is he…. alright?"

"Mostly. He's been working at St Regis. It was the last thing he knew when he woke up, he said."

"How did that bring him to DC?"

"A job. He was hired to…. We're still sorting it all out."

"There are people and methods that can help with that. Let me—"

"I know. I've had it done." Scottie turned to look at her a little more sharply than the statement warranted.

"Had what done?"

"Memory extraction. It's a long story and one that I'd rather not get into outside my daughter's school if you don't mind."

Scottie pursed her lips. "Do you think his memories were taken on purpose?"

"Seems to be that way. We don't know for sure by who yet. It's…. a really delicate situation."

"Yes." Liz could see the woman's clever mind spinning and brown eyes met blue. "I'd like to see him."

"Scottie…."

"I need to see my son," she pressed. There was a desperation in her voice and there were tears forming in her eyes. She was a strange woman for the CEO of a company that dealt in spycraft. She wore her emotions on her sleeve, but the more Liz had gotten to know her, the more she suspected that it was a tactic.

Even so, she knew how much Scottie loved Tom and how much Tom had come to love his mother.

"Let me talk to him. He's been…. overwhelmed, but I'll talk to him."

"I'll be in town."

"You better be you owe your granddaughter ice cream after school," Liz answered with a small smile.

Every moment there seemed to be a new complication added. Something that made an impossible situation that much more difficult. Scottie knew. Okay. She could deal with that. She could even use that, potentially. It was the fact that Ressler hadn't trusted her enough to let her know what he was doing. He'd snagged DNA from Tom - likely from something left behind at his apartment the night he'd stayed there - and sent it out without saying a word. As soon as he got back from Germany, Liz was going to have a chat with him.

---------

For as well as the session the day before had gone - at least after Liz had gotten there - this one kept getting sidetracked. Even with Liz next to him, her voice working as a tether to better things, his mind kept trying to go a different direction. The result was fractured memories joining together like a Picasso painting. Nothing made sense and he couldn't find a way to break through and make it.

Tom loosed a frustrated breath as he felt himself being pulled out of it and then he was back in Selma Orchard's clinic, strapped back in a chair and hooked up to machinery. Liz reached out, her hand in his forearm and he tugged away, the movement making him realize he had already been unstrapped from the chair. "We're not done."

"For today we are," Orchard answered.

"You took me out too soon. I could've gotten there," he growled, his voice sounding as agitated as he felt.

The doctor offered a sympathetic smile. "This isn't something you can push, Tom. Not without substantial risks."

"And if I'm willing to take those?" he shot back.

"Then it may cost your life and that defeats the purpose, doesn't it?" Orchard asked pointedly. "I have another patient like you. She had trouble with limitations at first too. She wanted something she could fight. It took a while for her to understand that you do more damage by pushing past the limits your mind and body are clearly setting than working within them."

"What happened once she got that?" Liz asked.

"She started to improve. Little things, but better a half a step forward than two back," Orchard answered. "And you have something she doesn't."

"What's that?" Tom grumbled, not really in the mood for some life lesson about patience his second day in.

"The ability to surround yourself with what your mind has forgotten. Your wife, your daughter, your home. I know you didn't have a breakthrough today like yesterday, but that doesn't mean we didn't push at those blocks that have been put in place. Think of it like a dam holding back water. You're putting cracks in it with the work we're doing. As the dam weakes, memories could start to slip through when triggered by external forces."

"Happened with me," Liz said softly from his side and Tom felt a sudden and unfamiliar wave of guilt for pulling away from her. He reached out and she took the offered hand as Orchard continued.

"The more you surround yourself with the familiar, the more likely you are to find yourself remembering things." She glanced over at Liz. "Why don't I give you two some time to talk?"

"Thanks," Liz answered and Tom tightened his fingers around hers.

"Sorry."

"For what?"

"Pulling away. For… You've done nothing but help me."

"I love you," she said softly. "And we will get there. I promise."

He sighed heavily, letting his head drop back against the rest behind him. He could feel the ache coming on and all he could do was hope it didn't turn into a full blown migraine.

"So Scottie showed up at Agnes' school this morning."

"Remind me who that is?" Tom asked tiredly.

"Your mother."

That drew his attention. "Is that normal?"

"No. She found out you're alive. Apparently Ressler ran your DNA."

"Asshole."

Liz snorted a laugh at that. "I'll handle Ress, but with what Orchard said, this might be a good opportunity."

"What? You want me to meet this woman?"

"You guys got… well, you were getting close when everything happened." Her other hand came up to cover his, almost like she needed as much of a reminder as she could get that he was right there. "She wanted to have dinner. If you feel up for it, maybe it'll knock something loose?"

He thought about it for a long moment, trying to conjure an image of the woman Liz was talking about in his mind, but he had nothing. Not a glimpse of the woman that Liz had said - despite what Bud had told him and that Tom had believed growing up - loved him.

"Okay," he breathed at last. "Let's give it a shot."

That smile of hers could light a room, and as Liz leaned in and kissed him, he felt some of the frustration ease away.

----------

TBC

Notes: Well, Ress is busted. Good thing he walked away with a successful trip to Germany at least?

Next Time: The Keens have dinner with Scottie, Red takes a trip down to Texas, and Ressler runs into trouble.

[ofclaires]

SELF PARA.

Date: April 18, 2020, noon in America.

Location: Room 102

Brief summary: Claire calls her mom ! They talk about sheep. This is the happiest thing I’ve ever written and I hate it.

As Mary suggested, it was Claire who made the room look like no one lived in it – spotless, like a hotel room. However, it was not just a coping mechanism to keep her mind off of the way things had happened between her and Kass, she'd been looking for something. It had taken ages, but she'd found it, tucked back behind her desk, precariously perched above an outlet: a postcard. Claire doesn't do anything with it for days, just keeps it under her pillow, but she thinks about it. She's been rereading it a lot.

Claire –

Hope everything is well at your school. You have no idea how thrilled I was so excited to hear from Callum that you were attending college – I never got to go myself, you know, so...you're a first generation! I think they do scholarships for that, you should see what's available. I know it's been a while since we've talked, but Olaf's mom is very sick, so we'll be moving back here to be with her. And we're getting married! We'd love for you to be here, if you can.

Miss you, Your mom +354 267-7777

The postcard is about a year old and worn at the edges. Claire never made any plans to go to Iceland. ( She never liked horses all that much anyway. ) When Claire first got the postcard last year, she’s pretty sure she broke not one but two of the punching bags in the gym – because after everything that happened, her mom wasted little time getting hitched with some guy. Some guy that was gonna treat her like shit, and Claire resolved she was DONE. She has too many memories of laying in her twin bed in the trailer, holding her hands over her ears as she waited for the screaming to stop, unable to sleep until she was sure her mom was getting into bed safely. Sometimes, she would sneak into the next room, crawl into her mom’s bed and wait.

Claire’s tired of waiting for people that don’t come back. After all, she’s been one of those people.

She doesn't know why she's started thinking of her mom so much now. Maybe it’s a result of allowing Callum back into her life or the fact that so many people are thinking of their parents, with the email that came out recently. She feels glad that her mom is semi-normal and clueless about what she does. Claire hopes that keeps her mom safe, from everything that's been going on at Gallagher. It's been a hard year on everyone, that should not be undercut, and while she'd like to say that her fight with Kass is the biggest thing on her mind...terrorism is just a tad more daunting.

Claire keeps her distance from the witness protection students for good reason. But she worries about Francis and his close friendship with one of them, and she worries about Kass, who has a tendency to form friends and attachments everywhere. She never thought she'd be glad about Nudge being totally preoccupied by a boyfriend, but at least it makes her feel like Nudge is safe.

After all, hanging out with one of those kids is what cost Amelia.

She taps her foot anxiously, whole legging shaking, which rattles the desk that she's sitting at. She knows there are things she doesn't want to die without doing, she just doesn't know if she's brave enough to do them. Claire doesn't even notice her own nervous tick until Tilly rolls over and looks down at her from her bunk. She gives Claire a look.

"I'm fine."

Disbelief. Tilly is too smart for that, and Claire has never been great at masking her emotions.

"Well, mostly fine. Do you mind leaving the room for a minute? Nothing freaky, I just want to make a phone call," Claire asks, and Tilly's not the type to be difficult, so she agrees.  But now that Claire's said the words out loud, she realizes that she wants to follow through with them – she's just scared. Granted, she should feel lucky that her mom is some regular lady in Reykjavik rather than some hired assassin or secret member of a terrorist organization. It's the little things.

Claire is pretty sure the dial tone is the worst sound she’s ever heard. She grips her phone tight, like...she might break it, if she squeezed hard enough, and she has to physically calm herself down, remind herself to breathe.

“Halló?” An unfamiliar voice answers the line. “Hver er þetta?”

Claire does not speak any Nordic languages, so she just stutters. “Um, hello? Is Maggie there?”

“Oh, hello! Yeah, she’s around here somewhere...in the garden, probably,” the man chuckles, switching to English without a second thought. “Who should I say is on the line?”

Claire likes how he phrases that, like she can make up anything for him to say and he’s happy to go along with it. She considers it, but shrugs, “You can say it’s Claire.”

The line goes silent for a moment, and she has to assume that this is her new husband – Olaf. He has a nice voice, but the last husband had a nice voice too. She’s met lots of boyfriends with nice voices, and by now, she’s realized there’s no way to really know a person until you get to know them. Instinct means next to nothing, you can’t trust it.

“Yes, of course. Hi – Claire.” He emphasizes her name, like he’s shocked that he’s gotten to say it, and then Claire spends the next ten minutes waiting in anticipation. She starts biting her fingernails, a habit she thought she broke years ago, but waiting on the line for her mom makes her FEEL like a child again.

“Claire, sweetie? Is that you? Oh my god, are you alright?” Her mom’s voice is like honey to Claire’s ears, bringing back memories she thought didn’t exist. Curled up in bed after long nights, pushing Claire’s hair back away from her face as she tells extravagant stories of pirates and vikings, eating junk food until the sun comes up.

“Hi, mom.” Ever reticent.

“How are you? I mean, I’ve heard from Callum a bit, he’s such a nice boy, but really, how are you?”

“I’m fine. It’s – it’s just been a while, so I thought I might...try your line,” Claire’s voice gets choked up near the end, and there’s tears in the corners of her eyes. She used to never cry, but she’s been doing it a lot lately, for some reason. Maybe she’s getting more in touch with her feelings, which is a horrifying thought.

“Well, it’s good to hear from you! It’s the first nice day we’ve had in a while, so I’ve just been out in the garden – I’m making Olaf fix the dishwasher, damn thing is ALWAYS acting up,” she laughs, and Maggie talks fast – it’s apparent she’s nervous, trying to fill the noise with some chatter. “And we’ve got sheep, and chickens, you would love these little guys.”

Claire furrows her brow. “Mom, you...you HATE gardening. And you also hate dirt. And chickens,” she adds, and she can already feel her heart sinking, because it’s just like her mom to meet a guy and completely reinvent herself into someone new. Claire’s seen her mom go through phase after phase – granted, gardening is a bit better than psychedelics, probably.

“Not any more! I’m a changed woman!” Claire can only nod emphatically at that, because, well, of course she is. “What are you studying again?” It’s also just like Maggie to act like it hasn’t been, oh, five years since they’ve spoken. Just launching into conversation like it’s normal, skirting around the rough stuff. Maggie always did that – avoided the tough conversations until it was too late.

“Listen – Mom, I just...I wanted to call to say I’m sorry. About everything that happened, I shouldn’t have...and I should’ve called sooner too, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened, and I still can’t – I –”

“Claire, honey, please. It’s alright, I’ve – I’ve moved past all of that, and...sometimes I do think about it, you know? And I wonder what my life would be like if you hadn’t stepped in when you did, or...if I’d even have one. I made some mistakes too, we both did. That doesn’t matter now.”

But to Claire, it still matters, at least a little. As long as she still dreams about the blood on her hands, it will matter. But it’s nice to hear her mom say it, and it’s a comfort to know that her mother’s life isn’t ruined by what she did – that things go on. She’s spent years imagining worse case scenarios, the turmoil she’d put her mother through, too afraid to reach out for fear of hearing the worst. This, at least, is some comfort.

“It’s okay, I know it can’t have been easy – forced to raise me on your own, and all. If I had a kid I’d probably drop it off on the doorstep of a nunnery or something.” Was that a thing? A nunnery?

“Don’t give me too much credit, I sure tried to get out of it – and god, your dad had it easy, doing God-knows-what in God-knows-where with his shitty band.”

“Is this the part where you tell me my dad is like, Mick Jagger or something?”

“Jesus, Claire, how old do you think I am?”

This makes Claire laugh, and after a moment, they’re BOTH laughing, and if it weren’t for the miles between them, it’d feel nostalgic – like coming home after school and throwing her backpack across the floor of their trailer. She’d sit at the kitchen table, eat dinosaur nuggets and Kraft mac & cheese while her mom would put on the radio, sing along to Dolly Parton in some ridiculous outfit. Claire remembers the bad days best, but when she remembers the good days, they’re really good.

“You’re happy though?” Claire asks, “I mean, you like this guy?”

“Yeah, I really like this guy – and I KNOW I don’t have a great track record, but he’s good. He’s really good. I mean, I’m out here gardening! I have chickens! He’s the real deal, and...he’s a great cook. I know it seems sort of crazy, packing up and moving to another country, but I really love him. You’ll get it someday, when you meet the right person.”

Claire rolls her eyes at that, in spite of herself. She’s glad her mom can’t see her face. She still doesn’t know what to think about love, but she has a feeling that it’s not really for her. She’s the metaphorical equivalent of Iceland – too distant, too much effort.  

Then again, some people seem to think moving to Iceland is worth it.

“Okay.”

“Wait! Oh, Claire, what are you doing this summer? Do you want to come stay with us?”

Claire wrinkles her nose, “And what? Shear sheep?”

“Yeah!” Maggie replies enthusiastically, not picking up on the note of disgust in Claire’s voice ( or choosing to ignore it. ) “It could be fun, and I’d love for you to meet Oly. It’s a great little place, and summer’s really the only time worth visiting because it’s pretty much all darkness from September to March. You’ve seen that little video on the Youtube, with that guy–”

Claire cannot recall the little video on the Youtube. “I don’t know, I’ll think about it. Summer classes and stuff, you know.”

“Oh, of course, I’m sure you work so hard!” Maggie sounds so PROUD over the phone, and Claire wonders what her mom would think if she knew the truth about everything. Claire doesn’t know whether to be happy or sad about the fact that her mom blissfully ignores everything that’s difficult, inviting Claire for the summer as if no time has passed.

“Yeah, so, um...tell me more about the chickens and sheep and stupid dishwasher, I guess. And the city? What’s that like?”

Claire’s happy to sit on the line for thirty more minutes, listening to her mom describe her new life, and they chat animatedly, like they’re at that kitchen table or laying in bed ‘til dawn, uninterrupted by the rest of the world. For thirty minutes, there’s no Blackthorne, no terrorist attacks, no witness protection students, or interpersonal drama. There’s only Claire and her mom ( mostly her mom, going on as Claire shakes her head and interjects, rolling her eyes as her mom teases. ) Although Claire knows better than to trust a calm before a storm, than to believe that nice things like this last. She won’t get her hopes up about the summer, because knowing Maggie, there’s a last-minute cancellation already in the works.

But she’ll enjoy this moment, right now, curling up on her bedspread like she’s a little kid again. So, when they get off the phone after a while, Claire just – she looks up at the slats of the bunk bed and smiles, so wide that it makes her face hurt a little – does smiling usually hurt like that? Now she’s pitying all the happy people.

Claire gets up to pin the postcard above her desk, deciding that there’s no point in hiding it underneath everything again. It’s probably not a good idea to get excited about even something so fleeting as weekly calls, but Claire is a glutton for disappointment, it seems. Lately, it’s felt like a big piece of her life is missing, and even if this one doesn’t fit perfectly in its spot, it’s still pretty damn good, because it fits perfectly in a different place – one she’d stopped noticing because it had been empty for so long. Optimism is a feeling she’s never really afforded herself before, but it feels good.

Well, as they say in Iceland:

Þetta reddast.

[apparentlynotreallyfinnish]

So I’ve sent this as a prompt to someone before, but I’d like your take on it! The boys meeting on tindr 😏

I already told this to Lora but I have to share with the rest of the class, too. I talked about this exact thing with Mick like a day or two ago. So apparently, Lora and me share a brainwave. :D I ain’t mad. I hope you don’t mind that I changed it a bit. It’s not Tindr. That wouldn’t have been as fun as this. 

—

Link’s phone lit up on his nightstand and cast a bluish glow on the ceiling of his bedroom. He’d just turned the lights off and tucked in but he couldn’t resist checking the notification.

You have (1) new match(es)

Link perked up. He’d downloaded the new dating app Incognito earlier that evening. He hadn’t tried dating through an app before. Not something you wanted to do when you worked in a semi-public profession as an internetainer.

But he’d heard some of the crew talking about Incognito and gotten intrigued. There were no pictures, no real names unless you decided to share them with someone you’d matched with. This was his first match. He’d been picky and he knew it. Everyone’s answers to their bio questions had just felt either boring or felt like they were trying too hard. Link had chosen to like only three men’s profiles and, apparently, one of them had liked him back.

Link wasn’t exactly looking for a relationship in this thing, so he wouldn’t have needed to be so picky. He didn’t have time for one. Right now, work took too much of his time and his brain power. There was also the fact that he wasn’t exactly out of the proverbial closet yet. He’d only recently come to terms with it himself. Bisexual. That was what he was going with right now. He knew the label didn’t mean that much. It might still change but even getting to accept that had been a struggle.

Not even Rhett knew yet. Link wanted to tell him, of course he did, but something was stopping him. That was probably the biggest reason he wasn’t ready for a relationship with a guy. Keeping something like that from Rhett just sounded both exhausting and too wrong.

But he did want to dabble a bit. He’d never been with a guy, so even texting – let alone sexting – with one seemed kind of thrilling. So, he’d chosen the “looking for a hook-up” option when he made his profile.

A message bubble popped on his screen.

PaddleBoardMe: Hey! You still up?

Link’s stomach did a little somersault. This was the profile he had desperately wanted to like him back. Everything this guy had said had either moved Link or made him laugh out loud. Also, his screen name was hilarious. Link wished he’d gone more cutesy and sexy with his own.

BlueEyes78: Hi! Yeah, was just about to go to sleep.

PaddleBoardMe: Oh! So, you’re in bed then. Sounds good. ;)

Link couldn’t help but blush. It was stupid but, suddenly, he felt like a teenager again. How the heck did one flirt with a guy? Link knew the answer was just like you did with a woman but he still felt unsure.

BlueEyes78: Yep, it’s pretty lonely here.

Link sent the message and immediately felt stupid. That was such an obvious answer. He was a writer, goddamn it. He could do better, right?

PaddleBoardMe: Want me to keep you company? 

BlueEyes78: That sounds nice. What do you want to talk about?

Link sighed. That wasn’t any better. Maybe he needed to just forget about this whole thing.

PaddleBoardMe: Early morning tomorrow. Been a real stressful week.

Link eyed the message for a while. Was he trying to talk about it or was this a hint? Link gnawed on his lip and made a decision. Mr. PaddleBoard had chosen the hook-up option as well so Link hoped he wasn’t too far off with his reply.

BlueEyes78: Wanna let out some steam?

PaddleBoardMe: Yes, please. ;) Wanna tell me what you’re wearing?

Link sighed with relief. He wasn’t even sure why he was so worried about upsetting this guy. He didn’t even know him yet. But his profile had really caught Link’s eye and maybe even a tiny bit of his heart. Not that he would confess that to anyone, let alone himself.

BlueEyes78: Just some black boxer briefs. In bed, remember?

PaddleBoardMe: Mmh, sounds perfect. Wanna get hard in them for me?

Link swallowed and shifted on the bed. His boxers were filling up surprisingly quickly. He let his palm rest on his semi and squeezed lightly. His eyes drifted closed for a moment and he hummed from the pleasure.

BlueEyes78: Kinda already am.

PaddleBoardMe: Oh, you’re a needy little thing. Or maybe not that little?

BlueEyes78: I’ve been called big. I wouldn’t really know.

Link froze. Why the hell did he send that? It took a while for Mr. PaddleBoard to answer.

PaddleBoardMe: What do you mean?

BlueEyes78: Nothing. Just forget about it.  

PaddleBoardMe: Kinda sounds like you might be inexperienced.

Link sighed and cursed. He felt like an idiot. He stared at the screen for a bit and then a little smirk crept on his face. Maybe this could still be salvaged.

BlueEyes78: Would that turn you on?

PaddleBoardMe: Hell yeah, baby.

Link cheered silently. He could work with this. It was the truth anyway.

BlueEyes78: I’ve never done this before. Not online, not in real life.

PaddleBoardMe: A virgin! Lovely. I’d be honored to pop your online cherry.

BlueEyes78: You sure? I don’t really know what I’m doing…

PaddleBoardMe: That’s actually kinda hot. Like I’ll be the first guy to ever get you off. Thinking about that is making me all kinds of hard.

Link drew a deep breath. He was really gonna do this. And the guy seemed actually pretty sweet. He wiggled on the bed, leaning against the pillows to better position himself. His left hand drifted back on his cock.

BlueEyes78: You gonna touch yourself and think of me?

PaddleBoardMe: I definitely am. Tell me a bit about yourself, just so I can get a better visual. Are your eyes really blue?

BlueEyes78: Yep. Bright blue. I’m tall, fit enough (for my age lol), dark brown hair with some gray in it but I promise it’s very sexy.

PaddleBoardMe: Oh, fuck me, that’s exactly my type.

BlueEyes78: Yeah? Would you like that then? Me fucking you?

PaddleBoardMe: I’d love that. Thinking about that right now. I’m on all fours and you’re behind me. I can feel your cock press against my hole. Fuck, you’re so big. Not sure I can take it. But I really want to be good for you. Since it’s your first time.

Link read the message twice and, all of a sudden, he was breathing heavy and he was painfully hard. How did this guy do it? How did he, with just a few words, make Link feel like he was actually there? Link slipped his fingers under his waistband and tugged it down enough to release his cock. His hand immediately wrapped around it and started slowly stroking. He moaned out loud.  

BlueEyes78: That sounds amazing. I’m so hard right now. I wanna be inside of you.

PaddleBoardMe: I’m begging you to do it. I want you so bad my thighs are trembling. I’m arching my back, backing up against you. Please. Fuck me.

Link’s hand was a blur on his cock. He wanted so badly to be with this man; he didn’t care what he looked like. He was swept away by his words.

BlueEyes78: Okay, yeah, I’m inching in you now. Fuck, you’re so tight.

PaddleBoardMe: Oh, yeah. You feel so good, filling me up like that. Baby, fuck me hard. Make me feel that big cock. Make me yours.

BlueEyes78: You have no idea how hot this is for me. I’m so close already.

PaddleBoardMe: You’re so sexy. I want you to cum for me. Think about rawing into me while you do it. I’d let you do that. Just take me bareback. Wanna feel all of you.

BlueEyes78: Holy fuck. I want that. Wanna press my fingers into your hips when I pound into you. Wanna make you whimper with my cock. Want to make you plead for more.

PaddleBoardMe: You can leave bruises. I don’t care. Just need you fucking me into a wreck. I’m pleading. Cum into me. Fill me up.

Link groaned and changed his hand position. His head fell back thumping on the headboard and his wrist went on overdrive as he chased his orgasm with low whines and whimpers. His thigh muscles spasmed before his cock did. He came hard, an impressive amount of cum painting his torso all the way to his chest.

BlueEyes78: Fuck.

PaddleBoardMe: Did you u cum for me, baby?

BlueEyes78: Yeah. I don’t think I’ve ever cum this hard in my entire life.

Link was still slowly pumping his cock, enjoying the last shivers of pleasure. He felt exhausted.

PaddleBoardMe: I’m so happy to hear that.

BlueEyes78: Did you get there?

PaddleBoardMe: Oh, yeah. You took me so good. I came all over myself. Wanna see?

BlueEyes78: Okay.

Link’s stomach clenched deliciously. He hadn’t thought he was gonna get a picture tonight. It took a moment for it to load. When it did, Link devoured it hungrily with his eyes. It was of a man’s stomach and crotch. He was still holding onto his dick. He was still strikingly hard; the picture had to be taken right after he’d reached his orgasm. His stomach had an impressive spattering of cum on it. But that was not what made Link’s heart miss a beat. What got to him was the fact that he recognized that stomach. He’d seen it many times before. Time stopped.

PaddleBoardMe: Hey, where’d you go?

Link was staring at the photo, jaw hanging slack, hand still wrapped around his cock.

PaddleBoardMe: Everything okay?

It was Rhett’s stomach.

[sunsetsover]

oh oh oh could you please write ben & callum at some point in the future when callum is now comfortable with himself and they go to pride together as boyfriends. headcanons or fic your choice. also hope you feel better :)

ok well your first mistake was saying the word fic to me …. like u should know i can’t control myself….. also i could not stop thinking about this after i got it so thank u for sending me this….

anyway this isn’t quite what you asked for, but i hope you like it all the same 💖💖

new heart (ao3)

“Like a snake, my hearthas shed its skin.I hold it there in my hand,full of honey and wounds.”

– New Heart, Federico García Lorca

It’s Tina that convinces him to go.

Callum hadn’t been expecting the topic to come up, hadn’t been ready for it; they had just been talking over the bar in The Vic, him, Mick and Shirley, catching up after what felt like months of barely seeing each other. He doesn’t even notice Tina show up, but at some point she’s there, leaning next to him, joining the conversation. Not that he minds – he’d missed her. He’d missed them all.

The conversation had been constantly shifting from one thing to the next – Mick’s anxiety, how Ollie’s getting on at school, Shirley and Tina’s trip to Italy last year – so Callum knew it would circle around to him eventually. But he had been expecting simple questions about what he’s been up to, how work was, maybe how things are going with Ben. Not this.

“Pride next week, ain’t it?” Mick asks – completely unprompted – while pouring a pint. He’s trying to be nonchalant about the question, to not make a big deal out of it. It’s not working. “You doing anything?”

“Nah.” Callum tells him, wiping condensation off his glass. The question had thrown him off kilter, but he’s trying to be better about talking about this stuff, to not clam up so much. It’s still hard, but he’s trying. “Ben is though. Going to the Parade in the city, I think.”

Shirley stands up straighter at that, her face pinching. “What, and he’s not taking you with him?”

“No- no it’s not that, it’s- he wants me to go with him, but I just-” Callum’s words trail off, not really sure what to say, how to explain himself, “I dunno.”

It’s just a lot, is all. Callum doesn’t know if he’d be able to handle being at Pride. He thinks it might overwhelm him, especially after everything that’s happened over the past year. After what happened when he went to Pride last year. He just- he isn’t sure. Even with all Ben’s assurances and gentle encouragement, he still isn’t sure he really wants to go. And that’s reason enough for him to not go as far as he’s concerned. He doesn’t want to go, end up hating it, and risk ruining Ben’s day with all of his issues; Ben deserves to have fun and enjoy himself more than anyone. He shouldn’t have spend his day worrying about Callum.

Tina nudges him slightly, lowering her head so she can look him in the eyes almost like she can sense what’s going on in his head. She smiles at him, and when she speaks, it’s full of understanding. “You should go.”

All three of them are looking at Callum now, waiting for him to say something. He laughs nervously, shrugging. “I went last year.”

She nudges him again. “Yeah but it’s different when you’re out.”

“You sound like Ben.”

“Ben knows what he’s talking about.”

Shirley scoffs. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

“What I mean is,” Tina continues, shooting Shirley a look, “it’s not the same as last year, is it? Things are different. You’re different. It’ll be like, a whole new experience y’know? You’re not on the outside looking in anymore. It’s like a whole new world.”

“Alright, Aladdin.” Shirley quips, but she’s smiling.

“It’s true! God, especially if you’re going to the Parade. The atmosphere is something else, I tell ya.” She makes a face, her mouth pulling down. “I wish I wasn’t working, I’d love to go.”

“Go, then.” Callum offers, desperate for a way out of this conversation. “I can cover you at The Albert, if you want.”

Tina looks scandalized by the idea. “What and have you missing your first Pride? No chance.”

“I’m not going anyway, so-”

“You should go.”

“There’s always next year.”

“Yeah but-”

“Leave it out, Teen,” Mick interrupts, coming back from serving someone at the other end of the bar, “if he says he don’t wanna go, he don’t wanna go.”

“Yeah,” she says, glaring at Mick, “but like… not going because you don’t feel ready, that’s one thing. But not going because you think you can’t go or you shouldn’t go or- because you’re worried you’re gonna burst into tears in the middle of Trafalgar Square, then that’s something else, ain’t it? That’s just normal Pride stuff, I promise you.” She’s squeezing his arm, looking right at him. “But then you get there and it’s like… I don’t know. I can’t describe it. But it’s good, y’know? It’s important.”

Shirley makes an scoffing noise, then walks off to start serving now the pub is filling up a bit. Tina, though, completely ignores her, and takes Callum’s face between her hands, forcing him to look right at her as she speaks.

“Go to Pride, Callum. Wrap a rainbow flag around your shoulders and let a stranger cover you in glitter. Be overwhelmed. Cry in the middle of Trafalgar Square. Kiss your boyfriend in the street for everyone to see.” She taps his cheek. “Just don’t drink from any open containers and you’ll be alright.”

Her earnestness shines through, despite the joke she tacks on to the end. Callum feels himself falling into it, desperate for some kind of guidance, for someone to tell him how to do this, because he doesn’t know.

“I don’t want to ruin his day.” He confesses, quietly, so no one other than Tina can hear. As soon as the words leave his mouth she laughs, but it’s kind laughter.

“You won’t.” She tells him, just as kindly. “Ben will get it, Callum, he will. He’ll understand. Don’t forget he’s been where you are now.” Her smile widens. “And it’s not just his day, is it? It’s your day now too. A day for you to be proud and have a good time. Don’t forget that, either.”

It’s too much. Callum wishes he could look away, hide the way his eyes are starting to well up but Tina’s hold on him is solid. She just continues to smile at him. Like she gets it.

“Have a good time, yeah?” She tells him, letting him go only to lean over and press a quick kiss to his cheek. Then she disappears off somewhere behind him, leaving Callum standing there alone. He feels raw, now; vulnerable. Like everyone can see just what he’s thinking, how he’s feeling. But when he looks around the pub, no one is paying him any mind – not even Mick or Shirley,  too distracted with the steady stream of customers at the bar. He’s glad. He’s really glad.

Callum swallows around the lump in his throat, takes a breath. Tries to get himself together.

Makes up his mind.

Ben gets surprisingly emotional when Callum tells him about his conversation with Tina; his eyes intent on Callum as he speaks, quietly listening to his every word. When Callum’s done, Ben pulls him into his arms, gentle but firm, and tells him that he’s sorry.

“What’ve you got to be sorry for?” Callum asks, wrapping his arms around Ben’s waist. It feels good, to hold Ben. To be able to hold Ben.

“For not realizing. I should’ve. I should’ve known you might be feeling like this.”

“How? You’re not psychic, Ben.”

“No but I still should’ve realized.” Ben sighs, one hand rhythmically rubbing up and down Callum’s back. “I’m just sorry, that’s all.” He pulls back just enough to look him in the eye. “And you know if you change your mind between then and now, it’s fine yeah? Or if we go and it gets too much and you need to leave or- take a break or come home we will, alright? No questions asked.”

“But-”

“No buts. Whatever you need, Callum.” Ben says, insistent. “Pride can be overwhelming, even for me. So you need to tell me if it gets too much for you, or… whatever else is going on in there.” He gestures to his head. “Because if you don’t tell me I can’t look after you, can I?”

Callum pulls back a little more, frowning. “I don’t need looking after.”

Ben pulls him back in, not letting him get too far. “I know you’re a big boy and you can look after yourself,” the smile on his face is teasing; Callum can feel himself start to flush, “but that don’t mean I can’t do it anyway, does it?”

Forget Pride – the way Ben’s looking at him now is making him feel overwhelmed; his fingers playing with the collar of his shirt, the two of them swaying together slightly. Callum lowers his eyes, lick his lips.

“I just don’t want to ruin your day.” Ben is quick to correct him. 

“It’s not my day. It’s not the Ben Pride Parade, is it? Although that does have a nice ring to it.” Callum laughs even though it’s a terrible joke, and Ben just smiles at him, his fingers gently playing with one of his ears now. “It’s just as much your day now, Callum.” He tells him, voice quiet and just as earnest as Tina’s had been. “And I want you to enjoy it. Have a good time. I don’t want you stressing out and being uncomfortable but not saying anything because you don’t want to ruin Pride for me. Because I’ve been to loads of Prides, I’ve seen it all before – I’d much rather you be happy and comfortable than be worrying about me.” His hand slips to the back of Callum’s skull, cradling it. “I don’t want you to have bad memories of your first proper Pride, Callum. And if that means we just go and walk around for five minutes and then come home, then that’s what we’ll do, yeah?”

“But-”

“No buts, Callum.”

“But Pride’s important to you.” Callum continues, ignoring him. He feels stupid and childish, having to have everyone reassuring him all the time, to have Ben changing his plans for him. It’s not fair. “I know it is, and I wouldn’t want to take that away from you.”

Ben’s smile turns into a frown. Callum’s stomach drops.

“What exactly would you be taking away from me?” Ben asks, his voice serious now. “The Parade, all the parties – that’s a celebration of Pride. That’s not what Pride is. This,” and he reaches behind his back, pulling Callum’s hands away from him so he can hold them between his own hands, “this is Pride. You coming out to Stuart and your dad knowing full well what kind of blokes they are, that was Pride. Us being here, separately and together, despite everything – that’s what Pride is, Callum.” Ben stares up at him, bright eyes burning with something Callum’s never seen. “So how could you possibly take that away from me?”

At a loss for words, Callum can do nothing but pull Ben back towards him. Their arms immediately wrap back around each other, Ben hand going back to rubbing up and down Callum’s back. He hides his face in Ben’s shoulder, willing himself not to cry again.

“And anyway,” Ben says after a few minutes of their silent, gentle swaying, “whatever happens, it’s not like it could be any worse than last year, is it?”

Callum huffs, the sound of it wet. “Don’t jinx it.”

“Touch wood.” One of Ben’s hands comes up to gently tap against his own head. “But as long as we leave your brother at home, I think we’ll be alright.”

Callum never thought he’d be able to laugh about what happened last year, but here he is, stood in Ben’s arms.

Laughing.

It starts before they even get off the Tube – people get on the train with them, more and more at every station, all clearly out for the same reason they are. Some are completely kitted out with flags and make-up and t-shirts and face paint, while others are quieter about it – a pin, or a wristband, or just the way they’re looking around the carriage in fascinated delight.

Callum wonders if he looks the same.

There’s nothing to give him and Ben away, apart from maybe each other. But they’re not touching; Ben told him that he wouldn’t, not today, not unless Callum initiated it first, and he’s stuck to it ever since they left Walford. Still, he’s a solid, comforting presence next to Callum at all times – even when Ben gets up and moves to stand in front of Callum so he can let a little girl have his seat.

“I like your face paint.” He tells her once she’s sat down. She has two rainbows painted on her face, one on each cheek, and she smiles shyly at the compliment. “Did you do them yourself?”

“Mummy done them for me.” She looks up at a her mum who’s stood close by, watching them. She has matching rainbows.

“She did a very good job.”

“Thank you.” She says, still smiling. “We’re going to the Pride Parade!”

“Are you?” Ben asks, matching her level of enthusiasm. Callum finds himself smiling as he watches him. You’d never think it looking at him, but he’s so good with kids – all kids, too, not just Lexi. “That sounds like fun. Have you been before, or is this your first time?”

And Callum catches it, the fact that he doesn’t say that that’s where they’re going too. Ben could have so easily told this little girl – who clearly isn’t a threat in any way, shape or form – that they were going to the Parade too, but he didn’t. He didn’t out of respect for Callum.

Callum looks down at his lap.

“I’ve been before, but I can’t remember the last time I went because I was only little, so this time my mum has borrowed my granddad’s camera and promised we’ll take loads of pictures so I won’t forget this time!”

“Sorry, she’s very excited.” The girl’s mum says, approaching them with an apologetic smile. “She hasn’t stopped all morning. It’s a miracle she sat still long enough to let me paint those rainbows on her cheeks, honestly.” Ben laughs politely.

“No, it’s no problem; I have a daughter about her age.”

“Ah, you’re used to it then.”

“Yeah, she-”

“Is she going to the Pride Parade too?” The little girl interrupts, looking up at Ben and her mum with big, curious eyes.

“Millie! You can’t just-”

“Not this year, but maybe next year I’ll take her.” Ben he tells her with a smile, unfazed, then turns back to the mum. “I just worry about the crowds. I’d be scared of losing her or something.”

She offers him some advice about how she deals with kids among the crowds, all of which Ben listens to carefully, and they continue to chat, from there – Callum stays quiet, but every so often Ben’s gaze will flick back to him, making sure he’s alright. He is. Listening to the two of them talk about childcare has provided a welcomed distraction.

Millie and her mum get off the train a few stops before Ben and Callum’s stop, the little girl waving goodbye enthusiastically before disappearing from view through the doors. Ben sits back down in his seat, then turns towards Callum.

“Maybe I will bring Lexi next year.” He starts; he looks like he’s thinking, his eyes not really focused on Callum. “I’ve thought about bringing her before, y’know, but Lola thought she was too young- not because it’s Pride, but because she gets funny about crowds. I think it’s rubbing off on me though, ‘cause now I’ve started worrying she’ll end up squashed or hurt or something, with all them people.” His eyes zone in on Callum. He seems embarrassed, suddenly. “That sounds stupid, don’t it?”

“No it doesn’t.” Callum can’t quite keep the smile off his face. “You should bring her, next year. She’s a clever girl, it’s not like she’d wander off or anything. And I’m sure she’d love getting all dressed up and that; seeing everyone else all dressed up.”

“Maybe.” Ben looks up at the Tube map to see where they are. “How are you doing?”

He’s checking up on him. He’s trying to not make a big deal out of it, but he’s definitely checking up on him. Callum would laugh if he didn’t think it was so sweet. “I’m alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?” Callum gives him a look. “I’m just making sure.” A beat of silence. “You will tell me if-”

“Yes, Ben.”

“Alright, alright.” Ben holds his hands up, pacifying, but there’s a smile on his face.

There’s one on Callum’s too.

The two of them get off the train a few minutes later, as do most of the other passengers. Callum can feel Ben’s eyes on him as they navigate their way through the station, but other than that there’s nothing. He doesn’t touch him, doesn’t say a word.

They lose each other briefly among the crowds of people; Callum feels panic start to seize him when he realizes he can’t see Ben anywhere, that he’s all alone. But then Ben is back by his side, appearing out of nowhere with a tut and an eye roll. The relief is instant.

“Never mind Lexi; it’s you I should be worried about.” He says as they get onto the escalator, Ben two steps ahead of Callum. He points at him and makes his face comically stern as he says, “No more wandering off, you hear me? Or you’ll have to hold my hand.” Callum tries to laugh, but it doesn’t quite come out right. Ben notices, but he’s forced to look away as they approach the top of the escalator.

You can hear the noise from the street before you even reach street level, and as soon as the two of them reach the top of the escalator, Callum’s floored by how busy and bright the street looks through the open doorways. It’s packed out there. Callum’s body involuntarily starts to stiffen once he realizes he’s really here, that this is really happening. When Ben notices, he wordlessly guides him out of the way of the people behind them, but otherwise makes no other move. He waits for him.

“We can turn around and go back if you want.” He says after a few minutes of Callum just standing there frozen. His face is deathly serious – Callum must look like he’s seen a ghost, judging by the way Ben is looking at him.

“No.” The word is firm and immediate, despite how he feels – it’s not fear but it’s… something. Something Callum can’t quite make sense of. But he doesn’t wait for Ben to check up on him again, to double check then triple check; he just forces himself to move, determined now. He heads for the barriers, trusting Ben will follow, and manages to get through them without fumbling his Oyster Card. But his determination wanes just before he makes it out onto the street, and he stands frozen again, just shy of the threshold. Ben stands at his side, still not saying a word. He waits, yet again.

Callum takes a breath.

“Alright.” He says, turning to Ben, who already has his eyes on him. “Alright.”

Ben looks worried, but he smiles at him anyway – that soft smile that’s just for Callum. “Ready?”

Callum reaches out and slides his hand into Ben’s. He doesn’t know where the bravery comes from, but the need to touch Ben feels urgent and all-consuming; the need to feel his solid, grounding body under his hands. Ben doesn’t hesitate to link their fingers together and squeeze.

“Now I’m ready.”

Ben smiles at him again, easier this time. “Come on then.”

Outside, the street is alight with colours and bodies. A few teenagers run past them, laughing, one with a bisexual pride flag flowing behind them like a cape. There’s music coming from somewhere, cheering coming from somewhere else – from everywhere, all around them. Callum sees baby in a pram holding his own tiny flag, waving the stick sharply up and down; an old lady in a wheelchair, laughing so loud it cuts through the sound of everything else; a guy in heels, head and shoulders above everyone else on the street. And right in front of them are two men, holding hands, just waiting to cross the road. Holding hands, just like Ben and Callum are.

Callum can do nothing but stand there for a moment, watching it all.

“Parade’s that way,” Ben shouts, leaning closer just to be heard over the noise. Callum looks in the direction Ben’s pointing, then looks all around them, everywhere. No one, not one person is looking at him. No one is paying him any attention at all, “or we can go find a bar or something. Or we can- Callum?”

Something inside Callum has broken; burst right open like an overblown balloon. It’s something that had been building inside him for a while now. And the break feels like popping a joint, maybe, or stretching a muscle – for a moment it hurts, but then the relief comes. It feels better now.

Ben snaps into action quickly, huddling Callum closer to the wall and trying to shield him from the street with his own body, to block out whatever it is that upset him. His free hand moves restlessly in the air, like he wants to touch but doesn’t want to make it worse, while his other continues to hold tightly to Callum’s own. “Fuck, Callum, don’t cry.” He begs, his own voice tight. “We haven’t even made it to Trafalgar Square yet.” That startles a laugh out of Callum, his head tipping back. He holds it there, as if gravity will force his tears back into his eyes. The sky is bright blue above them, he realizes. “Do you want to go? We can go right now; we’ll be home in an hour, Cal, I promise-”

“No.” His voice is rough, so he clears his throat, tries again. “No, I don’t want to go.” Ben just stares at him, distressed. Callum tries to smile. “They’re happy tears, I think.”

“You think?”

Callum looks back at the street over Ben’s shoulder. The cheers have got louder, as has the music. The Parade must be going past somewhere nearby. “I’ve just- I’ve been missing out, haven’t I?”

Ben’s whole body softens and sways towards him at that, almost like it tried to get closer to Callum without him having any control over it. Like there’s gravity between them. Callum feels it too, the desire to just fall into Ben’s arms and stay there, but he’s glad Ben has stuck to his promise – if he had tried to hug him now, he really might just burst into tears. And right now it feels like if he started crying, he’d never stop.

“You’re here now,” Ben tells him gently, voice barely audible over the noise, “that’s all that matters.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Callum pulls his gaze away from Ben and takes a deep breath; nods to himself, swallows, then nods some more, surer this time. When he smiles, it doesn’t wobble.

“Right then- come on,” Callum says, walking out of the shadow of the building and into the sun, pulling Ben along with him, “lead the way; show me the sights. I’ve got some catching up to do, haven’t I?”

Ben can only stare at him for a moment, his expression undecipherable. He seems rooted to the spot like Callum was before. But then a smile blooms across his face, slowly; one full of disbelief. He almost looks like he could burst into tears of his own, and Callum can’t help but laugh. He feels almost giddy now. Weightless. Untouchable.

And then he suddenly comes to the realization that he doesn’t been Ben to show him the way, to walk him through this. He can do it himself. He doesn’t need to hold anybody’s hand.

He belongs here.

Callum turns and starts walking, one foot in front of the other, his hold on Ben’s hand firm as guides them both through the street.

Somewhere, people have begun cheering again. He walks towards the sound of it.

[the--blackdahlia]

Too Young to Fall in Love Chapter 43 (Dirt!Nikki x Reader)

Title: Too Young to Fall in Love 43

Summary: Nikki Sixx was a hard partying musician on the strip. He never expected to fall in love with anyone, until a girl knocked on his dressing room door looking for a ride home and took his breath away. Just like everything else Nikki did; the drugs, the money, the music; Nikki went hard with love. (Y/n) Bass never expected the bassist of Motley Crue to be the one to shake her calm and calculated life up. She had a plan. Graduate school, become an epic producer, and watch from behind the scenes as her brother’s band rose to fame. Nikki and (Y/n) were perfect for each other, too bad her brother, Tommy, didn’t think so.

Series warnings:  Smut (18+ Please), drug use, language, referenced miscarriage, drug overdose, mentioned attempted suicide, out of character moments for everyone in the band, the timeline might be a little screwy but it’s fanfiction! I know nothing of music production and my medical knowledge is really screwy, so it won’t be accurate.

“Bass, what you are asking for is unheard of,” the executive said.

“You don’t want to keep them,” (Y/n) told them. “And you said it yourself that the last album cost you more than you made. Merchandise sells are down, and the public polls show that the grunge and alternative movements are bringing in the money, not heavy metal.”

“Not even the Beatles own their music Bass, this is not negotiable,” the executive was being stubborn.

“The Beatles should own their own music! But the difference between the Beatles and Motley Crue is that the Beatles didn’t have me for a manager.” (Y/n) smirked. “And you’ve seen what I can do. Do you really want to come to work every morning knowing that I’m coming in with them?” She tapped on the desk. “If they stay, their sales are going to just keep going down. They will do the one last album that is promise in their contract, and then they will be out of your hair, as long as you give them their masters.”

The executive sighed and nodded, “Fine, let Tom know that Nikki and the Crue can have the masters.” he looked over at (Y/n). “Why did we let you quit?”

“Because you didn’t realize what you had until it was gone.” She stood up and shook his hand. “Now, I need that in writing. I don’t trust oral contracts.” She bit her lip. “Or better yet, go ahead and give me the paper that shows ownership of the masters.” She smiled when the tapes and all the documents were all placed in a box and handed to her, and the lawyers were alerted.

Nikki and the guys made their way into the building. Nikki was feeling something different in the air as they made their way to the elevator.

The elevator doors opened and (Y/n) was standing there, a smile on her face and the box in her hands.

“Hi boys!” She smiled. “And actually, don’t go up there yet. I need you guys to come to the house with me, okay?”

Nikki looked to the guys who shrugged. He followed after her with the guys following after, “I guess we’re going to my house…”

“What’s in the box?” Tommy asked, looking at Nikki.

“I don’t know, but I hope it’s not seven deadly sins,” Nikki chuckled.

“Maybe it’s the executive’s head.” Mick said. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

Nikki and the guys made their way back to his house where (Y/n) was waiting for them back in her office. Ziggy was happily barking as there were visitors at the house.

“Okay boys, I got some bad news and I got some good news” (Y/n) told them. She was at her desk, Nikki was leaning against the wall, and Tommy, Vince, and Mick were on the couch in her office. “The bad news is after your next album, Elektra will not be renewing your contract.”

“What’s the good news?” Nikki sighed as he looked at the floor. (Y/n) smiled as she laid everything out on the table.

“All of Motley Crue’s work, from Too Fast for Love up to your new album, will belong to Motley Records.” She told them. “Every last note belongs to you guys now.”

Nikki rushed to her and kissed her, “you’re amazing!”

“I know.” She laughed. “I might have told them I was your manager, which I’m not. I just needed some leverage to get these out of their cold hands.”

“I wouldn’t deny you being our manager,” Nikki muttered as he leaned her against her desk and kissed her.

“Um Guys… please….” Tommy sighed. (Y/n) blushed.

“So, welcome to Motley Records.” (Y/n) laughed. “I can handle things for now because, let’s face it, no record company is gonna want me after I just screwed Elektra out of one of their biggest names.”

“Our own label,” Nikki smiled. “Dudes this is going to be awesome! Let’s get to work!”

“What about Corn-on-the-cobi?” Mick asked.

“I...the label actually fired him  this morning.” (Y/n) said. “He doesn’t blame you guys. He thinks that Elektra just doesn’t appreciate real talent.” She smiled at the boys. “Just remember, you have to do one last album with Elektra.”

Nikki looked at Mick and smiled before looking at (Y/n) and hugging her, “I love you sweet girl.”

“I love you too silly boy.” She hugged him.

“I...I need to go apologize to Vanessa.” Vince said awkwardly. “We have a lot of making up to do.”

**************

Nikki and Mick were back in the Jewelry store and smiled when the clerk gave him the ring he bought for (Y/n).

“Ok… am I doing the right thing here?” Nikki swallowed the lump in his throat.

“What does your gut say?” Mick asked. “Can you imagine anymore days without her being Mrs. Sixx?”

“No, I can’t. I look at her and I just want to make it official you know?” he smiled. “I almost asked her last night and I had to remind myself I had a plan.”

“Our bassist and our manager are getting married.” Mick laughed. “Don’t piss her off.”

“She might not even say yes so who knows,” Nikki made his way to his car.

“Oh, I’ll bet she’ll say yes.”

*****

“Do you think Nikki’s gonna ask me to marry him again?” (Y/n) asked as her and Vanessa met for mimosas and brunch. “And how are you even still walking since Vince came home?”

Vanessa almost choked on her mimosa, “has he hinted at asking you?” she leaned in.

“I...well he tells Ziggy we’re his mommy and daddy. And we’ve been together for almost three years.”

“Awwww,” Vanessa smiled. “I mean it is a possibility,” Vanessa shrugged. “Oh and I am sore as hell ok.” she smiled. “He’s doing better and it’s still hard…” she whispered. “His other kids have been visiting and I’ve gotten to know them.”

“Do you think there a future there?” (Y/n) asked. “He really seems to like you. Or have you gotten to the love part yet?”

“Maybe,” Vanessa shrugged. “If not then I’m doomed to be alone forever.”

“You’re not going to be alone forever. I can hook you up with Tommy.” (Y/n) winked. “But I know he really likes you. Who knows, maybe you’ll bring him another little baby. Of course it won’t be Skylar, but it might help?” (Y/n) shrugged. “All these years, your the longest one he’s been with, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Yeah,” Vanessa sighed and shook her head. “I really just never thought this would be it you know.”

“So, I thought I was pregnant a couple weeks ago…” (Y/n) told Vanessa.

“Oh honey,” Vanessa reached her her hand a squeezed it. “What happened?”

“My period came. I was relieved, but upset.” (y/n) sighed. “Something just wants us to wait. Just like back then.”

“The universe is very mysterious,” Vanessa gave her a smiled. “But it’ll happen… I know it will.”

"I just hate upsetting him. He still feels guilty that he didn't realize what happened before." (Y/n) told her best friend.

“I know hun. But this time he might be there with you and he can help you through this.” Vanessa reasoned. “We should head back. I hear there is a carnival in town. Maybe we can all go for old times sake?”

"Yeah…" (y/n) smiled softly. "Everyone seems so happy since the last album is done. I think it would be good to relax."

**********

The drive to the carnival the next day had Nikki nervous. He kept looking over at (y/n) who seemed to look out the car window.

“You ok?” Nikki took her hand in his and gave her a gentle squeeze.

"Me? Oh yeah I'm great." She smiled at him.

“Well, we can ride some rides, play some games, eat some junk food,” Nikki smiled.  

"Just make sure the rides come before the junk food." (Y/n) laughed.

“Awww, what’s the fun in that?” Nikki teased as he parked the car. He spotted Mick, VInce, and Vanessa. “I take it Tommy is MIA?”

“Don’t worry about him bass player,” Mick smiled. “So you got everything ready?” he leaned in as Vanessa and (Y/n) talked.  

“Yeah well, I got permission from the important people that actually care about her,” Nikki smiled. “Am I doing the right thing here Mick… I keep doubting myself…”

"Do you love her?" Mick asked. "Do you want to spend the rest if your life with her?"

“Yes,” Nikki nodded.

"Would you have rather she married Bret?" Mick teased.

“No,” Nikki closed his eyes. It was now or never today. “Ok I know I’m retreating back into sloth mode and I can’t do that. Let’s just get some ride tickets ride some rides and have some fun.”

Nikki rushed to (Y/n) as the group made their way around the best rides to ride. Nikki kept glancing at the ferris wheel but decided to save it for sunset. He didn’t want to rush the day. He grabbed his camera and began taking pictures, many of them when (Y/n) wasn’t looking. The light captured her just right and he couldn’t help but take pictures.

“Hey, (Y/n) come here,” he called to her. She looked over at him and smiled.

“What?” She asked, making her way over to him. She saw the camera in his hand. “You know, this whole rockstar thing doesn’t work out, I bet you could be a photographer.” She said, kissing him gently.

“Oh, now there is a thought,” Nikki smiled as he pulled her in for a deeper kiss lifting his camera and taking a picture. “I’m framing that one.”

“Just make sure you keep those special ones hidden from prying eyes.” (Y/n) whispered in his ear. “Come on, I’m hungry.” She took his hand and led him over to the food trucks and tents.

Vince looked at everyone as his knee bounced. He wasn’t sure if this was the right time, but if he was to make a relationship last, the one with Vanessa would be it.

“Uh, I have something to say.” Vince said, looking at the group. Everyone turned to look at him.

“Um... what?” Vanessa looked at (Y/n) and then to Vince. “What are you doing?”  

“Something I honestly should’ve done a while ago.” He smiled at her. “Vanessa, I didn’t know I was going to fall in love with you when (Y/n) introduced us back in the 80’s. I figured that her and Nikki just didn’t want me butting in on their dates.”

“Got that right,” Nikki interrupted and closed his mouth.

“I know that the road has been hard,” Vince glared at Nikki for a second before turning his attention back to Vanessa. “And I’m probably the last person you would want to spend your life with,” He got up from the table and knelt by Vanessa. “Vanessa Maria Rodriguez, will you marry me?” He showed her a beautiful silver ring with purple stones. (Y/n)’s eyes widened. She had never thought in a million years Vince would want to get married again.

“I….” Vanessa looked to (Y/n) who kept nodding her head. “Yes!”

“Yes!” (Y/n) jumped up and hugged her after Vince put the ring on her finger. “My best friend is getting married!” Vince looked over at Nikki, who was just sitting there, a little in shock.

Getting up he hugged Vince, “congrats man.” he muttered and cleared his throat. “I gotta head to the restroom for a sec.” he got out of the small area and headed to the restrooms with Mick following him. Turning on the sink he splashed water on his face, now if he asked (Y/n) it was going to seem as if he was copying Vince. Closing his eyes he tried to think of a different plan, but jumped when he felt a hand on him.

“I know what’s going through that head of yours.” Mick told him.

“Oh yeah?” Nikki smiled. “What are you a psychic?”

“I might be. Part of my alien charm.” He chuckled. “I know you’re not gonna ask her now, right?”

“It’ll just seem like I’m asking cuz Vince asked,” Nikki sighed and opened the box looking at the ring.

“You know that we’d all be happy for you though,” Mick told him. “And I don’t think Vince realized that’s what this night was for. Just go ahead and do it.”

“OK, I guess it’s now or never.” Nikki said as he gave Mick a smile and  walked out back to (Y/n). “Come on sweet girl, you and I have a date with the ferris wheel.”

****

“I thought Nikki would be happy for us,” Vince said to Vanessa after Nikki had walked off. (Y/n) was sitting on a park bench, eating a snow cone while she waited for him to come back.

Vanessa leaned in and sighed, “Nikki is going to propose. It’s the reason he brought (Y/n) here.” she gave him a soft smile. She placed a finger to her lips and looked at (Y/n). “So, what ride should we head to next? I’m thinking bumper cars!”

“Wait...oh shit…” Vince sighed. “He’s not gonna do it now, is he?” Vanessa took his hand and led him over towards a ride.

“Come on blondie,” she laughed. “Hey (Y/n), your boy is on his way back,” she smiled at her and used her head to point at Nikki’s direction. (Y/n) threw the trash away and made her way over to Nikki.

“Hey silly boy. Are you okay?” She asked, taking his hand.

“We have an appointment with the ferris wheel,” he said as he led her towards it giving Mick a wink. (Y/n) smiled as they made their way over to it. Nikki slipped the operator some money to stop them at the top after a few rounds. There weren’t many people on anyway.

When the ride stopped at the to Nikki smiled. “I have a question to ask you and the first time I did this… I don't think I did it right.” He took out the box and played with it in his hands. “I think that first time I asked you I was scared of losing you… don’t get me wrong I’m still scared. But, you are this light in my life that has helped to pull me out of the darkness. I lost you once because I was an idiot. (Y/n) Bass, will you marry me?”  

“Of course I want to marry you.” (Y/n) said, a smile on her face. “This time, we’ll do it right.” She held out her hand towards him, watching as he slid the ring on. “Oh my god, it’s beautiful!” She looked up at him. There was so much joy, love, and any other happy emotion in her eyes.

Nikki took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply. His fingers raked through her hair as he pulled her close, “I love you sweet girl.”

“I love you silly boy.” She kissed him again. The ferris wheel started to head back down and (Y/n) rested against Nikki.

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

Motley Crue Tags:  @primal-screamer @waywardprincess666 @twistnet @saint-of-los-angeles @vader-kai @motleyfuckingcruee @sharon6713 @kawennote09 @2dead2function @nikkisixxwiththebass @iamtiber-andtiberismusic @jayprettymuchomw @charlyallise @you-know-im-a-dreamer @sweet-dreams-on-butterfly-wings @estxxmotley @arianareirg @the-normal-potato @nikki-sixxtynine @jjjjjjjoshdun @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @stella20131991 @tarahell @wowilovenikkisixx @i-want-to-shoot-myself @motleycrueee @sams-serialkiller-fetish @getbackhonkycatt @are-you-reddie54321 @flamencodiva @lesliethegroupie @deacyduck @scarecrowmax

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Too Young to Fall in Love Tags:  @kingbouji3 @leximus98 @thekidbakerinthetardis @crystalbaby12 @shawnsstxtches @knockemdeadgirl @deansgirl1993

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Twenty-One

Part Twenty or Table of Content

Pairing: Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx x OC

Word Count: 3.4k

Warning(s): EXPLICIT LANGUAGE, SUBTLE HINTING AT SUICIDE

Tag List: @unknownoblivion @haileynicoleseavey17 @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @mgkobsessed @vamprlestat @sharon6713 @itsametaphorbriansblog @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @fandomshit6000 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @kingbouji3 @evrsncnewyork @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @thanks2pete @abaldboi @swoopygorl @justjodeye @liith-ium @caos18blog @ytwahsog @shamlessobsessions @scarecrowmax @toadspleen @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @loveofmyloif

**Let me know if you want to be tagged**

———————————————————————

"Viv, open the door." Fred calls from other side of the bathroom door.

I don't know if I should be relieved security's here or mortified because now I'll have to answer questions to the police, whose sirens I can here coming closer and closer.

"They've temporarily locked the hotel down, Viv, until the cops get here and when they're here you're gonna have to give a statement."

"I don't want to talk to anybody." I argue from my spot in the bathtub with the curtain closed.

There's silence on the other side for a moment.

"Can you be honest with me?" He asks and I let out a deep breath.

"Always." I reply honestly.

"Have you taken or done anything you weren't suppose to?"

"No." I tell him.

"Not to freak you out anymore than you already are, but we're on the seventh story. There isn't a balcony. There isn't even a ledge for someone to be able to stand outside the window and hold a gun on you." He explains to me calmly and I squeeze my eyes shut, crying because that's the last thing I wanted to hear. "I don't think there was a gunman, Viv."

"I saw him."

"What'd he look like?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"It was too dark."

"Then how do you know you saw someone?"

I dry my eyes, irritation bugging at me as I stand and pull the curtain back.

"Are you calling me a liar, Fred?" I ask him, my tone shifting from that of fear to aggravation.

"I'm just saying something's missing in the salad and it could possibly be the lettuce." He replies casually and I step out of the tub and swing the door open to look up at him.

He shakes my Nardil bottle in his hand, his lips pressed together.

"Lettuce." He adds, raising his brows, before he reads the withdraw symptoms to himself that I've been avoiding to read this entire time before he stares my eyes down. "Pupils are fine." He mumbles to himself, grabbing my arms, legs, and anywhere that holds easy access veins to check entryways for needles.

His palm pushes my forehead back to angle my nose upward so he can check for coke residue.

There isn't any.

"I quit taking them." I admit as he finishes up his drug examination and he looks at me with furrowed brows. "My Nardil. I stopped it."

Confirming his theory, he glances around the room before stepping in to the bathroom and shutting the door.

"You're not..." He starts, seeming to be uncomfortable and I wait patiently for him to speak as he motions his hands. "...giving up or anyth—"

"No!" I deny completely, rubbing my forehead. "No, Fred, I'm not that bad off, now, and I wasn't bad off at all when I was on them." I reassure him.

"Then why'd you get off it?" He asks and I sigh, trying to figure out if I should tell him or not.

"The excuse I have planned is, 'I can't stand relying on a pill to make me happy', but it's bullshit." I confess. “If I tell you this, you can’t tell anybody, Fred. I’m serious, or I’ll kick your ass. Got it?” I ask and he nods. “Cross your heart?”

“Cross my heart.” He does an over exaggerated crossing of a crucifix over his body like a catholic closing out a prayer and I crack the slightest smile before licking my lips, stepping from the bathroom to my suitcase.

I pull the positive pregnancy test out and just as I’m heading back to the bathroom, the door is unlocked and opens—leaving me standing there in nothing but my towel, holding a pregnancy test in front of Doc and a police officer.

I panic and hold the test behind my back, too far away from my suitcase to simply hide it back in there.

“Viv, You need to give a statement.” Doc informs me and I look at the officer and nod as Fred steps from the bathroom, only a couple inches beside me.

The officer hands me a paper pad and a pen to write on and I give a look to Fred.

He furrows his brows a little bit as if to say, “what’s up?”

I nod my chin to my shoulder a little bit as a subtle cue and he glances to my hand behind my back, gripping a pregnancy test.

He’s expressionless as he acts like he’s putting a reassuring hand on my back, but he takes the test from me and slips it up his sleeve.

It’s now that I hear Doc and the cop having a casual conversation, and I still haven’t taken the pen or pad from the stranger.

I do so quickly and write my statement, adding that I’ve been off of strong antidepressants for a little bit and one of the possible withdrawal symptoms is discontinuation syndrome, hallucinations and psychosis being a couple of the possible results of discontinuation syndrome.

Fred explains to the officer and to Doc what might have me thinking there was a gunman outside of my window while I finish writing my statement and shoes the cop the bottle of pills to prove I’m not on drugs and he’s just trying to cover my ass.

Doc leaves with the police, walking him back down to the lobby to meet his team that’s probably scoped the hotel for any threat.

Once Fred and I are alone he’s pulling the test from his sleeve and staring at it as I get some pajamas on while he sits on the foot of the bed.

“This is gonna sound fucked up but it’s Nikki’s, right?” He asks me and I glare at him.

“Yes.” I state. “It’s Nikki’s. He’s the only man I’ve ever been with.” I plop down on the bed beside him and he hands me the test and let’s a moment of silence pass.

“He’s gonna fucking freak.” He mumbles.

“‘I’m gonna be a dad!’ freak, or ‘holy fuck I have to be a fucking dad!’ freak?” I ask, knowing he’ll tell me the truth.

“Definitely the second one.” He states.

“I think so, too. He’s gonna kill me, Fred.” I rub my eyes.

“He’s the one that won’t let up on you. I’ve seen him after a show, just getting his hands on you at the first chance and throwing you over his shoulder to go use you like a cum rag.” He scoffs. “It takes fucking to get a kid, and it takes two to fuck.”

“I’m not going to tell anybody until I absolutely have to. Including him. He’ll be pissed I told you first.”

“You haven’t told me anything.” He replies blankly and I look at him.

I knew in that moment I could murder someone and Fred wouldn’t tell a soul, he’d just help me hide the body and clean up the crime scene.

I suppose that’s kinda what he did anyway when he found out why I was with Duff McKagan so much on the “Girls” tour.

He knew Nikki had fucked plenty of other girls on the tour, without my knowledge and right under my nose, so he didn’t see the point in snitching on me for doing the same as if Nikki were an alter boy.

By late afternoon the next day, the roadies and seemingly everyone—aside from Nikki, Tommy, Vince, and Mick—were all walking on eggshells around me.

They figured if I, of all people, were on drugs, they should avoid me at all costs because I had "violent tendencies" when I was sober, they didn't want to know what the hell I was like fucked up on something.

Except...

"I told you, Doc, I didn't take, snort, shoot, or drink, anything." I tell Doc once more as I go between teasing Tommy's and Nikki's hair while they smear on blush, lipstick and eyeliner as neatly as they can. “I even had the guys check their inventory to prove I hadn’t tampered with any of it.”

"No, you're just dopesick from abruptly stopping your MAIO antidepressant which is just as idiotic and stupid as taking, snorting, shooting or drinking anything that fucks You up so badly that you imagine someone holding a gun at you outside of the window on the seventh story of a hotel." He replies shortly, and I roll my eyes.

"You can't be dopesick from something that's not classified as a controlled substance." I reply as if he's overreacting.

"Your neurotransmitters are in shock. You need to go see a fucking doctor." He orders me and I look at Nikki in the mirror. "Nikki, tell her she needs to go see someone."

"As if he has room to talk to me about getting help of any kind." I scoff out and Nikki shakes his head a little.

"If she says she's fine, she's fine." Nikki tells Doc, swigging from his bottle of Jack, handing it to Tommy when he's done.

"She had the fucking hotel on temporary lockdown until the cops cleared it. You assholes were out partying so you don't know how hard it was to convince her to come out of the bathroom before Fred busted the door down." Doc explains.

"And then I was fine. And now I'm fine. And I'll be fine. So just drop it." I sigh out, spraying down Nikki's hair with hair spray and doing the same to Tommy's.

"Why'd you quit your fucking Nardil anyway?" He keeps on and I let out a breath.

"Why does it matter? It's over with, man, just fuck off." Nikki grumbles, standing up.

I thank him in my head, not even getting a last glance from Doc before he's stepping out of the

room.

"Alright, I'm making my rounds." Vince announces.

"Making rounds" = stopping by the drug dealer that's waiting in the bathroom for a few bumps of coke then pick up the nearest groupie and get her on her knees ASAP.

"I'm comin', gimme a second." Tommy says to him before giving one last sprits to his hair before the two of them are out.

Mick left an hour ago to get away from the guy's obnoxious bullshitting. He hasn't been feeling good lately and his patience has been low...I don't blame him.

Nikki and I are left alone, avoiding the tension in the room until he says "fuck it" and starts pressing at me like Doc was.

"Why'd you stop taking it, Viv?" He asks me and I pretend to touch up my makeup in the mirror as he sits on the couch and waits for me to answer.

"I don't know." I lie with a shrug, tired of being asked questions that I can't answer right now.

"You don't know." He repeats, obviously not convinced, and smug at the fact I can't fool him.

"Fine." I breathe out, stepping to him where he's on the couch, falling in to his lap and putting my arm around his shoulders. "The truth is, I was bored and just wanted to see what would happen." It's sarcastic and he knows it, cutting his eyes at me.

"That's a bullshit answer."

"Mmm, now you know how I feel when you're so messed up you can barely walk and that's the excuse you give me." I point out and he holds back a smile, his little smirk fading after a moment as he thinks. "What is it?" I ask him, my fingers wiping at the lipstick he's got around his mouth so it doesn't look messy.

"You were pretty bad off, you know. You wouldn't even get outta bed and it kinda brought everybody down." He explains and I sigh, irritated.

"I'm not going to blow my brains out or slit my wrists, Nikki, if that's what you're getting at." I state.

"I'm not getting at that. I'm just saying I feel like I don't have my girlfriend when she's not acting like herself. I don't want it to get back to that, Vivian."

"Girlfriend? We've been married for ten months and I'm still you still think of me as your girlfriend?"

"I mean 'wife'." He corrects himself, squeezing his eyes shut.

The term "Girlfriend" didn't come with as much responsibility and tying down as "wife" did. Truth be told he didn't think of me as his wife until I first started being friends with Guns 'N Roses—their bassist in particular.

Then anytime we were all hanging out together or at dinner or backstage, he was all about randomly, loudly, and cross-fadedly, emphasizing the fact that I. Was. His. Wife.

Everyone knew it was his way of pissing on me to mark his territory and sending the message of "mine's bigger than your's!" to anyone who even thought about hitting on me.

I ignore his slip up and blink at him.

"It won't get that bad again, Nikki." I assure him, blindly, because I have no clue how the hell my depression is going to be. As of now, I don't feel any different off of my meds than I did on them.

I stamp my reassurance with a brief kiss, before Doc's banging on the door to let us know Nikki's going on in fifteen minutes.

They played a great show, as always, and by the time it was over I was practically rushing to get back to the hotel, get packed, and get back home.

"What time are we leaving tomorrow?" I ask Doc as Vince, Tommy, Nikki and Mick cool down after just getting off stage.

"Well, about that," Doc starts, waiting for the guys to sit down and take a few deep breaths before he continues. "We're leaving tonight and heading to Michigan to get back up with Ozzy at the American Rock Festival in Kalamazoo and then we head to Des Moines for Iowa Jam." He hits us with two more shows.

I stare at him like I could kill him. I honestly could.

"Is that it?" I ask him, keeping it together.

"Yes. If you don't count the eight other shows in between."

I lived up to my "rabid bitch" reputation by attempting to hit  him as hard as I possibly could over an overall minor inconvenience. Thanks to Tommy getting between us, it was merely an effort and no damage was done.

I needed to get to an obstetrician and there was no way for me to do that discreetly while on the road. I felt like the walls were slowly moving in on me and the record label kept booking shows, making sure I had nowhere to run.

"I'm actually going crazy, Tansy." I say into the payphone, glancing around the dark gas station parking lot to see the guys walking inside with Doc. "I was expecting a little fever and vomiting but it's actually making me a crazy person."

"Well what did the label say the withdrawal symptoms were?" She asks me and I reach Into my purse and pluck the Nardil bottle out of it.

"Discontinuation syndrome from phenelzine can include: hallucinations, rushed speech, severe anxiety, paranoid psychosis, drowsiness, delirium, and insomnia." I read aloud to her.

"Well, Maybe it's not that bad." She comments.

"I had a melt down because I thought a man was standing outside our room window pointing a gun at me." I explain to her.

"Well, that's not far fetc—"

"We're staying on the seventh floor, Tans, and there isn't a balcony." I state. "Doc thought I had tapped in to someone's supply until I told him I decided to stop my antidepressant."

"Why're you stopping it, again?" She asks me and I breathe out.

"Because I'm not depressed anymore." I explain, knowing it's a bullshit excuse and that she knows it because I'm not that ignorant to believe I can just stop something like Nardil cold turkey.

"And how does Nikki feel about you just quitting it out of nowhere?"

"What does Nikki have to do with this?" I ask her.

"He's your husband, Viv. Did you not give him a heads up at all?"

"I didn't wanna worry him, even though I'm sure he's not worried about it, but still." I explain to her. "I don't want to be the reason he feels the need to drink or use because he's stressed out and I guess I was scared it would stress him out."

"He's a rockstar, Viv, he's gonna use drugs and drink regardless. You can't put that much pressure on yourself." She tells me, the guys coming back out of the station with snacks.

"Yeah, I gotta go, Tans." I say. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Call me when you get there so I know you're still in one piece." She suggests and I nod.

"I will. I'll talk to you later."

"Alright, bye-bye."

"Bye."

I hang up the phone and run a hand through my hair, stepping onto the bus.

"Viv, I got you gummy worms." Tommy throws the bag at me and I flinch a little when I catch it.

"Thanks, Tommy." I step past him to get back in my seat and Nikki hands me a bottle of Coke.

I wrinkle my nose a little and take the bottle.

"They didn't have Pepsi." He tells me and I sit down next to him.

Before I can ask Vince to use his bottle opener, Nikki's got the metal cap off my drink with his teeth and I cringe, lightly popping him on the arm.

"I told you to stop doing that, babe!" I scold him and he laughs, handing me the bottle back. "If you want a new car or new apartment you can't shatter your teeth because that will take all the money you've made to fix."

"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya." He brushes me off and I nudge him with my shoulder, ripping in to my bag of gummy worms. "So, in terms of a car," Nikki starts, opening his bag of Doritos.

"Mhmm."

"I'm thinking a Corvette." He tells me and I stop drinking my Coke mid-sip and look at him.

"A Corvette only has two seats." I point out.

"Yes, and there's only two of us. Isn't funny how that works out perfectly?" He asks me with a smartass smile.

"Yeah, but we might have kids at any point. We're not really being the most cautious, you know."

He puts palm on my forehead, closing his eyes.

"What are you doing?" I ask him.

"Rebuking the pregnancy demon."

"Nikki." I chuckle out, swatting his hand away from me. "You gotta stop looking at kids as a curse or something to slow you down. The worst thing that can happen to you when we have kids is you'll quit partying as much and become more responsible. That's not so bad, is it?"

"It's a parade pisser, that's what it is." He mumbles, eating another chip.

"No it is not, babe, children are a blessing." I argue to him, keeping my smile.

"Right, that's why my folks avoided me at all costs."

"Okay, you can't pull the lost, confused, abandoned child, who's tagged teamed with mommy and daddy issues, every time we get on the topic of kids so you can win the inevitable argument and get a sympathy blowjob." I state and he laughs, genuinely. "We are going to kick parenting's ass." I promise and he grins at me like I'm amusing.

"I yield, you're right." He lets me win this one, sipping on his beer.

A beat passes between us, and he glances at me.

"I'm thinking black for the Corvette." He mentions to me and I rub my lips together.

"I'm thinking more along the lines of: new apartment." I suggest instead and he cuts his hazel eyes at me.

"I can't fuck you on the hood of a new apartment. You can't give me blowjobs while I'm doin' 90 to nothing down the road in a new apartment." He makes two very valid points and I let out a sigh.

"So while weighing the pros and cons of choosing either a new car or new apartment, you took in to account which one you could utilize during sex the best, as a priority?" I ask.

"Fast cars, loud music, and even faster and louder chicks, turn me on. I already have two of those three." He shrugs and I just blink at him. "Besides, if we go for a new place, we'll just end up buying a slightly bigger—but still shitty—apartment, while still having the piece of shit car to match."

It was one of the few things that made sense in Nikki's mind, and if that's all that mattered to him, then that’s all that mattered to me.

[rock-em-sock-em-rock-n-roll]

Blueberry Pancakes (The Dirt! Nikki/Tommy)

Chapter 4: The Smoothie Indecent 

Tommy’s POV

I couldn’t believe what was happening. Nikki Sixx was taking me on a date. A real live date. He drove me to a diner, because I hadn’t eaten a full breakfast. At least that’s what I thought before I sat down and realized that this was the exact place we met. This was the diner I spotted him at after the show where he got punched in the nose. This was the diner where I saw him and thought “Fuck. He’s even hotter when he isn’t dripping blood like a faucet” . This was the same exact seat where I sat next to him for the first time. He hadn’t just taken me to a diner, he took me to my favourite place in the world.

This whole morning had been so sentimental. First, he makes me pancakes -like I ordered when we first met- then he takes me to the place we first met. Kind of a backwards order, but it was the sweetest thing. I couldn’t help but smile. I couldn’t help but grin like a fucking maniac.

“So, uh.... Nice place, right?��� Nikki asked, looking nervous.

“Yeah, man! You remembered!” I felt like a schoolgirl in love, but I didn’t mind one bit.

“So did you,” he said, sounding a little surprised, as if I would ever forget. Then he started laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Do you-” He cut himself off by chuckling into the back of his hand. “You took my poster off your bedroom wall.”

I scoffed, and said jokingly, “Do you want me to put it back up?”

I loved how happy he looked.

“Nah, you don’t need to. You have the real me, now.”

Okay, was he trying to kill me? He must have been. I was sitting across from him, but I crawled under the table, getting a laugh, and slid in next to him. I gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. He was so fucking perfect.

He giggled (yes, giggled), and squeezed me into him, so we were in sort of a hug. But it could pass as a friendly hug, if anyone ‘important’ were to walk in and see us. He ruffled my hair and I leaned into it.

The waitress came up, and looked at us kinda oddly.

“Morning, boys. What can I get you?”

I half expected Nikki to order a rum and coke again, but instead he said, “Can I get some blueberry pancakes- double, and a large smoothie, two straws?”

If she wasn’t looking at us like we were nutjobs before, she definitely was now. She looked at me, as if she didn’t just hear Nikki ordering for the both of us. I just nodded at her, confirming the obvious.

As she walked away, Nikki and I laughed, but I was feeling a little nervous.

“What’s up, Tommy?” He asked, looking worried, as he played with a little strand of my hair.

“Nothing, it’s just… You saw the way that waitress was looking at us, and-”

He shook his head. “Nikki, she doesn’t know shit about us. She was just-”

“No, I know, but that’s my point. If this - us - gets out somehow, what’s gonna happen to Motley Crue?”

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to Motley Crue because some assholes don’t like the fact that we love each other. I’m not gonna let anything happen because some boring, traditionalist shits think that we should be getting tits instead of-”

I laughed, despite some of the shit going through my mind. “Yeah thanks, Nik. I get it.” I snuggled in next to him, and we sorta half-cuddled till the waitress came back around.

She set down our food, and smiled, looking much more settled and happy than the last time she saw us, even as she saw us cuddling, and about to drink a smoothie with two straws.

I smiled at her, while Tommy looked at her skeptically.

“Thanks,” I said, and grabbed a straw. I stuck it up to my mouth and looked at Nikki expectantly.

“What?”

“Do you wanna do that thing they doin the movies? Y’know, when two people drink a drink out of straws at the same time, while they look into each other’s eyes?”

He laughed, and started sipping from his straw at the same time I was sipping out of mine.

Are you hearing this? This is movie material. I love this. He gazed into my eyes, and I gazed into his beautiful green ones.

Then he crossed his eyes, and stuck his tongue out, which I was not expecting. One second we were getting lost in each other’s eyes, and the next…

I fucking sprayed smothie everywhere. I was laughing so hard it came out of my fucking nose. It wasn’t even that funny! Just surprising. I covered my face, and went bright red. It burned and it was just plain embarrassing.

Nikki was laughing, but he had a slightly worried look in his eyes.

Trying to stifle some of his laughter, he said, “Tommy, are you okay?” He scrambled to take napkins out of the holder.

I coughed. Shit did that hurt. “Yeah-” cough “I’m-” cough “I’m good, dude.” He handed me a bunch of napkins, and I grabbed them and crushed them up against my face, not really cleaning myself up. More using them to hide my face.

Even though it stung like a bitch, I laughed with him because his laugh was just so damn contagious.

“C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, holding out his hand. I grabbed it with one hand, holding the napkins to my face with the other. He took me to the bathroom, grabbed some paper towels and got them wet.

“Nikki, you don’t have to. I can do it-”

“But I want to,” he said. It came out as more of a question than anything. Like he wanted to make sure I was okay with it.

I laughed. “Okay, babe.”

He took my napkins and tossed them out, and gently cleaned my face with the damp ones. I held his hand to my face, looking him contently in the eyes. They were the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen. They were so green and vivid, and deep, and wild, and just amazing. I could get lost in them so easily it was almost unnerving.

He stopped wiping my now mostly clean face, and said, “You’re the only person I know who’d turn snorting a smoothie all over himself into something romantic.”

“You love it,” I claimed, gripping his hand tighter.

“Shut up, you sap,” he said, getting a little red. It reminded me of last night when we were dancing, and his face looked like a fuckin strawberry. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.

“I might be a sap,” I admitted, throwing away the paper towels. “but at least I’m good at it.”

“I’ll give you that one,” he said smiling, leaning in close to me.

I leaned in further and rubbed our noses together like they did in the movies. He hummed contently, and wrapped his arms around me, before saying, “C’mon. Let’s get back before our pancakes get cold.”

We got back to the booth and sat down. I leaned down to drink my smoothie, but he snuck in front of me and wrapped his lips around the straw, leaving me with a mouthful of his wild black hair.

I leaned back, getting his hair out of my mouth. “What the fuck, man? Now I gotta drink out of your straw to get the taste of your fuckin shampoo out of my mouth.” He just laughed, so I drank from his straw. From then on, we stayed with our own straws. And before you say anything, No . It’s not gross. We’re cute and you’re jealous.

I hated to change the subject, but I leaned back and asked, “So, what do you think we should do about Mick and Vince?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, are we gonna tell them about us? I mean, should we?” “We have a couple options here,” He began, scooching closer to me. I looked at him, interested, so he continued. “They think we were both drunk. They think it was a one nightstand. We could play off that. We could say that we didn’t remember anything, and they could have fun with that. Or we could keep us a secret-”

I blanked out for a second, imagining us secretly holding hands under tables, or exchanging quick goodluck kisses before a concert.

“Tommy? Earth to Tommy,” he said, waving a hand.

“Oh, what?” I said, snapping out of it.

“Come here, you fuckin goob.” He pulled me into him, so I held on, inhaling the scent of cigarettes and sweet fruit. He wrapped his arms around me and continued. “As I was saying, we could tell them. But we’d have to keep it private; Between the four of us.”

“Doc would find out,” I pointed out casually.

“Between the five of us then.” He paused. “I think we should keep this between us, me and you, for now, and wait until we’re ready to tell them, or until it slips out somehow.”

“Sounds good to me, babe,” I agreed, smiling.

“He wants to keep this going. He likes me. He really likes me. And not even because I’m hot, like when people usually say they want to stay with me. He wants me for me.” I thought gleefully, digging my face into his ribs. He giggled, and lightly pushed me away. “And,” I decided. “I’m the only one who can make him giggle.”

A/N- Kaudhliaygfliasydgf sorry this took so long!! I’ve been suuuuuper busy lately. I really hope you like this chapter, and if you did, you can tell me and give the gift of serotonin!! If I haven’t told you already you can also find this and other fic(s) at my ao3 account @mayolove. If you want me to publish on Wattpad too, then let me know and I can. And as always, let me know if you want to be tagged in future chapters, or if you want to be tagged whenever I post any fic, we can also do that!! Love y’all!!

[ramblingrybo]

                                         Come into the Garden, Kev

Kevin, the pheasant, has been with us now for seven weeks. To honour his continued presence we have taken to calling him Kev which, unfortunately, has coincided with the sad disappearance of his tail feathers owing to a cat attack. Consequently, we now have a pheasant with a short name and a short body. The lack of tail feathers, however, has not curtailed his daily behaviour. Despite looking like a stubbed-out cigar butt, he still crakes like a band-saw and struts about the garden, nodding to the worms. When he needs a rest, he stands on one leg underneath the bird feeders and blinks, innocently. 

Kev’s lack of tail feathers brings to mind an incident from my past in which a pheasant featured strongly. I had better keep my voice down because it ended tragically. Think of me whispering the next bit. i was twelve and I was bush-beating at a December shoot in Swineshead, near Boston. We were just finishing our last drive of the morning. The guns had stopped firing and we were walking to the end of the field. Directly in front of me, however, twitching in the furrow, was a cock pheasant with a broken wing. It had congealed blood on its chest. Now, there is an unspoken rule in game-shoots that if you come across an injured bird directly in your path then it is your responsibility to finish it off. I stopped and gulped. I knew what I had to do. Reluctantly, I picked up the bird, its head cupped in my hand. The technique was to spin the body round, then jerk it to a stop, thus snapping the neck and putting the bird out of its misery. Unfortunately, I was a little too energetic in my attempt. Having closed my eyes, I spun the body then jerked, only to hear the bird’s body fly through the air and land in front of me. Opening my eyes, I could see the body bounce then roll to a standstill, the tail feathers flapping violently against the ground. However, my fist was still clenched, squeezing something hard like a golf ball. Through squinting eyes, I peeled back my fingers one by one. Nestling in the cup of my hand, a pheasant’s head, vividly green, white and red like the Italian flag. I froze. But then it winked at me. Flinging the head behind me, I jigged on the spot, flailing the air to rid me of the horror. In the end, I had to be held fast by my friend, Mick, and force-fed a Mars Bar to counter the shock. Naturally, I suffered nightmares for weeks afterwards.

But that is enough about decapitated pheasants. Let us get back to the garden. For the last three days, I have been involved in a concerted bout of weed destruction and cutting back. With Kev’s dissonant crakes to keep me company, I have de-mossed the pantiles on the study roof with a hoe, fought a fierce battle with a Mermaid rose, scraped ivy from three walls and savaged yet more ground elder, this time from the edge of our new wild bit of garden. In the process, I have been able to appreciate some of the wild flowers which we or the birds have planted in the last few years. And I am going to tell you about four of them. Now, before you start yawning and saying things like, ‘Wild flowers? That’s about as interesting as poetry’, let me reassure you that you can forage for all of them in our country lanes and that all four are edible. Even better, one can ward off the plague and two are noted aphrodisiacs. Interested now? Yes, I thought you might be.

Right, let’s start with Bistort which we have growing in our pond. It has pink spikes and heart shaped leaves and it is also known as Snake Weed, Pudding Dock or Passion Dock. These last two names refer to its use in Easter Ledger Pudding which is a favourite in the Lake District and Yorkshire. The young leaves can be boiled and made into a puree which is then added to butter, chopped boiled eggs and boiled barley before being pressed. It looks like stuffing and is served with roast lamb. There, that’s something for you to try at home.

Much more common, however, is Garlic Mustard aka Jack-by-the-Hedge, Poor Man’s Mustard, Sauce-Alone or Penny Hedge. It has small white flowers and heart-shaped, tooth-edged leaves. This can be found on most roadside verges at this time of the year. The edible leaves which taste of garlic can be used in a salad. Furthermore, the flowers can be steamed like broccoli as a vegetable and the root makes an excellent substitute for horse-radish. ‘Wow,’ I can hear you purring, ‘that is some larder-filling plant.’ ‘I know,’ is my reply, ‘but that’s not all...’ It is also the major food plant for caterpillars of the orange-tip and green-veined butterflies and, when mashed up, can provide a disinfecting poultice. 

Still with me? Good, because we now come to a couple of racier individuals. The first is Sweet Woodruff aka Kiss-Me-Quick, Ladies In The Hay or Wild Baby’s Breath. It is a ground-hugging, shade-loving plant with rich green leaves and flowers like small bright white stars. The whole plant is vanilla scented and when dried the leaves smell like new mown hay. In the past, it was strewn on floors or stuffed in pillows or mattresses. Nowadays, it is steeped in Rhine wine in Germany to make their Maibowle or Maybowl. It is also considered slightly aphrodisiac. 

More potent still is Sweet Cicely which is related to Cow Parsley but has creamier, denser flower heads and delicate, fern-like leaves. It is also known as Garden Myrrh or Sweet Chervil. The whole plant smells and tastes of aniseed. The strongest flavour comes from the root which in the past has been used to ward off plague, given as a tonic to drooping teenagers and chomped on a daily basis to increase the lust of old people. Sounds like a plant for these desperate times, don’t you think? As well as its reinvigorating properties, the leaf of Sweet Cicely can be used in a salad or cooked with sour fruit, like rhubarb, to get rid of the tartness. But this is a plant which keeps on giving because later in the year the large brown seeds can be used as a spice or sucked like a sweet as an alternative to an aniseed ball. I think you’ll agree, this is certainly one multi-purpose plant and perhaps the most versatile of all of them. 

So, happy foraging. But before I go, I have some breaking news. The first swifts are back which means that Kev will soon have to compete with groups of them screaming in their death-defying races around the rooftops and treetops of Tealby. I’m sure he will give as good as he gets. 

Finally, happy birthday to my youngest daughter, Hannah, all those miles away in Lockdown Highgate. Have a great day.