#mick has never known a moment of peace | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emily-the-fae · 3 years

Text

Every Day is a Lullaby

A oneshot. This honestly came to my mind yesterday night, I do not know how well the idea turned out to be.

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Arthur Ketch x OC

Warnings:probably language, blood, injury, background character death, brief mentions of sex, angst mith mix of fluff

Rated: T

Mr Ketch has many sides, likable and repulsing - but which one of his faces is truly his is sometimes an uncertainty even for him.

Harper reflects on the changes on their relationship as they get out of a hunt gone wrong. While Ketch reconsiders some of his past choices... And reasons why he is still alive.

If he's a serial killer

Then what's the worst

That can happen to a girl

Who's already hurt

I'm already hurt

The first time Harper met him was a coincidence. It was long before the whole nephilim thing, long before she found out what kind of man he was, what kind of hunter he was. Yet even back then in the span of their first couple of meetings she felt he was no good.

A stupid hunting coincidence.

Harper was not used to hunting alone. She did that to herself - separated herself from the Winchesters. However much she loved Sam and Dean, she could not bear continuously being around them, not after everything that happened. Not after Charlie. Because no matter what Dean said or how Sam reassured her - it was her fault. Charlie was a great friend. Charlie had the brightest soul. Harper was late to help her and now Charlie was no more. It was all Harper's fault.

Driving away and going head first into hunting was the outmost Winchester way of dealing with the guilt and grief. Hunting alone while slowly coming out of her lowest phase - those were the circumstances under which Harper met Arthur Ketch.

The first time it happened it was a coincidence - two hunters choosing the same target is not uncommon. Harper was already on spot and all in the fight when he arrived. "Are you insane going into a whole vampire nest alone?" - those were the first words she ever heard from him. She might have been slightly insane, but he sure was a damn psycho. To be honest if not for him she would have probably ended up dead or turned in that vampire nest that night. Harper hates being honest about it.

The second coincidence happened just a few days after the first one - she would later on doubt if it was a coincidence at all. Perhaps it was. Harper would never really know - what she did know though was that he still had a small scar left above his left eyebrow - a mark of where she hit him with the grip of her gun, thinking it was the witch that was creeping up to her and absolutely not expecting to hear a male voice swearing after her blow. Arthur had not known her for 24 hours in sum and they were already making a scene after a hunt - Harper almost pitied she had not knocked him out straight away.

What happened on the next day? He caught her in the town and suggested to team up to avoid "future confusions". Rule number one how to become friends with Arthur Ketch: hit him in the face. Harper wasn't going to become friends with him - with any hunters for that matter - but fate seldom cared what Harper was going to do anyways.

Harper definitely lied to herself when she said that they were going to be only friends or that she was going to hate him after all the British Men of Letters invasion story. She didn't. Not with the way they met in the first place: him ripping her out of the claws of the angry remnants of the vampire pack - slightly concerned greyish blue eyes and a British accent was what greeted her at dawn that day, even though mid in fight she had accepted she would not see the sun again. It seemed symbolic how he saved her from giving up, from herself. And certainly not after the way their relationship went from mutual curiosity to blind semi-professional trust. Harper did not need a "friend" to console her: if she had wanted that she would have stayed around Sam - she needed someone unfeeling but understanding enough to see through her and consciously let it be.

She remembered it clearly - three hunts into their relationship - a month after their first encounter - they were sharing a hotel room. Two beds, late night after a hunt, she lied on her side and quietly cried. It was a demon hunt. The memories were too much. Arthur came into view and stared at her for a couple of moments before walking to his own bed.

- I'd say you can talk about it when you want to, but I doubt you will ever feel the necessity, - a brief caress of his hand against her shoulder. He did not try to relieve her, he allowed her to get to her own way of coping. For that Harper was grateful more than ever. - We all have skeletons in our closets, it's the downturn of the job.

Oh, dear Arthur, we are both now aware you knew far too well what you were talking about. Harper doubted any hunter had a closet cemetery as large as Ketch's.

Yet... Even after that - the awkward reuniting with the Winchesters, being pulled away from him as she came back to her old friends and witnessing, luckily from a safe distance, how the man she grew to trust without actually knowing him, uncovered darker and darker sides of his personality. What was worst - after she refused to join the BMoL, he would continue to sometimes keep her hunting company, going on like nothing happened. Like nothing changed. Why worst? It let the image of the heartless killer that she should have seen before her now connect and combine with the image of the man who would patch her up on her darkest nights and put a firm hand on her shoulder when Harper was too deep in memory to restrain herself. His presence around her became a reassurance in itself - because he did not have to know to understand. And because he simply had not been there - looking into his eyes Harper wouldn't get reminded of the times when everything was still right, wouldn't get reminded of that one time everything went very wrong. Probably those were the main qualities that helped him win a spot in her heart. Those and his unending casual flirting.

And now? After everything was over, after his very dark side was revealed, the confessions were made and the redemption was played, what did she think of him? The hunter, turned out just a very well trained assassin - he had served the British Men of Letters, he had served Asmodeus - now here he was separated from any commanding he ever had, living a hunting life of his own and sometimes collaborating with the Winchesters. Therewere many dark moments forgotten for the sake of peace. Many more had yet to come up - judging by how Ketch treated his own history and interests of others.

" - I wonder where Mick went, he was always so nice... Nicer than you, anyways. Pity he went away all of a sudden, - Harper mentioned once after a hunt.

- He did not go anywhere. I shot him in the head just like Hess ordered, - Ketch seemed calm and cold as steel. " Sometimes Harper thought that leaving BMoL would change him, but moments like that she realized how slowly the changes - if any - would have to occur. That night she simply walked away, not saying another word.

If anyone ever asked Harper how Arthur's spot in her heart had shifted after all the mess he had caused? She would say that he never even had one... And think that truth to be told there was no flame hot enough to burn him out of her chest - his name carved on her ribs would have been easier to get rid of than the bittersweet affection she harboured for the moral wreck of a man named Arthur Ketch.

If he's as bad as they say

Then I guess I'm cursed

Looking into his eyes

I think he's already hurt

He's already hurt

Despite that Harper never dared pursue a relationship. Why? She was very sure with people like Ketch the only right strategy was not to expect them to be capable of attachment. The flirting, the sweet promising looks he would give her after a well-accomplished hunt... Harper would dream of believing them to be genuine. She was very well aware thinking him in any way genuine was a risk she was not ready to take. She knew Ketch would not mind letting that affair happen - he made that quite clear. She also knew it would mean absolutely nothing to him apart from some company and a warm body in his bed. Arthur Ketch was cold, unemotional and taught himself well not to get attached to anyone - and even if that was not true, he tried his damn best to make it seem so.

Harper sometimes hoped she saw it in his eyes: a silent "please keep safe" when they would part after a hunt, a sparking "I missed you" when they would meet once again. Arthur sometimes hoped she would see it too - very deep in his soul, deeper than he would ever be able to admit even to himself.

In other words, the outcome of the new hunt would have presented itself sooner or later anyways. They were actually quite lucky to have it present itself the way it did.

The werewolf did not seem such a hard target - away from bigger packs, alone terrorizing the neighborhood - just because he could. Problem and solution crystal clear - a hunt where one clearly sees the root of evil is a blessing for a hunter that's used to all the versions of heartbreaking stories. What Harper did not so clearly see was the gun in their opponent's hands. To be more precise: she did see it, but a little too late.

Two gunshots rang at the same time: her silver bullet hitting right into the monster's heart and his normal one - ... Ketch fell against the wall, sliding down to the floor: his left shoulder bled, the bulletproof vest, even though being pierced in the thinner area, had preserved him from being too deeply injured - but not kept completely safe from wounding.

Several seconds of silence - making sure the werewolf is not a threat anymore - realisation and fear finally hitting Harper.

- Ketch?... Ketch?!... Arthur! - the hunter was too disoriented to answer and his silence was taken as a bad sign. - Oh Lord, Arthur, no! - gone are the self-restraint and professional coldness: the moment she sees blood on his chest, she rushes to his side, forgetting about everything else in the world. She needs to make sure he will be fine. He has to be. - Arthur, please, don't die on me! Arthur! - she calls for his attention, the hunter slowly regaining his senses.

For a moment there he believes he hears Tony. This reminds him of some of his unlucky hunts from the years before, though back then he had certainly had it worse. Besides this definitely was not Tony.

Tony would have said "Ketch's down" and carry on with the hunt, eyes on the target, and when the deed was done she would pass him with a short "How is it?" - more out of politeness than genuine caring. That was exactly what she did the only two times he had been seriously injured infront of her.

- Ketch, answer me right this instant, don't you dare fading out! - panic in her voice, genuine. The idea of someone caring as much as to panic at the thought of his death seems too good to be true - for him at least. Arthur feels hands investigating his chest, checking for the wound: cold thin fingers running over his blood-covered skin. Not Tony - Harper.

- I'll live, darling, it's nothing too serious, - attempting to sound confident, but his voice is rasp. It's nothing serious, but it hurt nonetheless: the blow on the shoulder was much harder than anticipated and the bleeding needed to be stopped.

Harper looks into the light blue, borderline grey eyes - he is staring up at her, his gaze unguarded only for a moment that lets her see the uncommon softness and hope in his expression - just for a moment - she believes the things she guessed about him were true, she believes the pain visible in his eyes is true, only by accident revealed to her. The state lasts only a couple of moments - but even that is more than enough for his visible emotions to imprint into her mind.

Arthur Ketch was able to feel. Arthur Ketch could be in pain. Arthur Ketch was capable of needing help.

I said "Don't be a jerk, don't call me a taxi"

Sitting in your sweatshirt, crying in the backseat ooh-ooh

I just wanna dance with you

Hollywood and Vine, Black Rabbit in the alley

I just wanna hold you tight down the avenue ooh

I just wanna dance with you

It was a wonder that the hotel clerk did not stop them on their way - Ketch looked positively dying - Harper was quite sure there was no legal thing that could have happened to him that would have explained this appearance. This was the reason normal hunters chose motels: less suspicion. Harper briefly wondered where he got the money to maintain his former lifestyle, since he was stripped of the BMoL funding, but she guessed there were other sources on his side and he was just too stubborn to change his ways.

When they stumbled into his hotel room, Arthur made a move to drop himself on the bed, but Harper grabbed him by the collar swiftly, dragging him away in the other direction.

- Ketch don't you dare stain the sheets, they'll report us, - she mumbled, pushing him to enter the bathroom and dropping him to sit on the edge of the tub.

He would have laughed if the sudden movement had not caused sharp pain to shoot through his damaged shoulder, making him wince. Alexandra. He had wondered for so long whom Harper reminded him of and out of all moments they shared it was this that made him realise. The memory reappeared in his mind so vividly now.

"Artie, no! Don't go to your room, you'll stain your carpet! Mum will kill us!" - and the older girl held him under his arms, guiding him to the kitchen.

He still remembered it: the years before school, before Kendricks, him and his sister mostly alone in the house with parents constantly away. Alexandra had brought him up before Kendricks had. Alexandra had a lovely voice, she would read him bedtime stories, she would sing to him, she was kind and caring - probably the only human being in his life that ever seemed to care. When he went to Kendricks was the last time he had ever seen her... Well, alive. Alexandra was kind and caring - and that was probably the reason why she had not made it through the training. In fact her death might have been the only reason why he survived and made it to the top - having no one care about you has a benefit: you don't have to care about anyone too.

After his sister's funeral life had never felt the same and Arthur had been quite certain before that it was for the better. Now, watching Harper rush about, trying to find the medical kit to help him, he thought that he had been terribly wrong all the damn time.

How long has she known him? A couple of years, not more, but the relationship between them reached beyond the borders of friendship or companionship. That little american hunter - the first time he saw her he thought she was suicidal, the second one - bold and full of sass. The following months proved her well capable of combining both while turning out to be so much more, one of which being: to be able to love Arthur Ketch. Of course he knew she loved him - this was among those traits in her that he openly treated with polite contempt and deep down envied more than anything.

He watched Harper come to his side, sliding his hunting gear off his shoulders - her movements so gentle, her eyes filled with worry and guilt.

- I'm so sorry Arthur, I should have... - you're always sorry. You always think it is your fault and none else's. This was most probably the main reason why it was so easy for him to openly reject her feeling: they both knew she loved him, they both knew he saw it, he toyed with her so many times, being suggestive, flirting. "As long as I enjoy the physical aspects of having an affair, the emotional attachment that other people believe necessary to form is rather pathetic" - he told her once. He actually said that, those were his words. I would like to fuck you as long as you shut your disgustingly human little heart. She stared at him for a moment, her beautiful face almost successfully hiding the hurt - then turned away silently, shrugging her shoulders. He was being a jerk. Harper never stopped him from that, Harper seemed to take it all in and believe he was right, believe that her feeling for him was utterly pathetic. That it was her fault.

- It was no one's mistake, love, it was an unlucky accident. Besides it didn't turn out that awful, - he trailed off. She was cleaning his skin over the wound now, preparing to apply stitches. Arthur could sense a little shudder in her at the word "love". He was so used to saying it that he forgot about all the connotations it held. Lord, was he bad at this.

Harper continued her work silently. She felt him studying her face and prayed to be finished as quick as possible - she did not need another heartbreaking hope and she had already made the mistake of looking into his eyes that night. When the last stitch was done, she turned away to put the materials aside and sensed him straighten up behind her back - Harper felt he wanted to say something else, but she could not give him that opportunity. She almost thought he would die that night - seeing him on the floor made her blood run cold - she did not need any more pain to add to the aftermath of the shock.

- I'm going to my room, but please call me if you feel worse during the night, - she spoke, not turning to face him, ready to walk out of the bathroom. Harper felt his hand grab her wrist in a rushed movement and turned abruptly only to see him staring back at her with unguarded softness in his eyes. The only time she remembered Arthur look at her like that was when she twisted an ankle during the hunt all due to his mistake. It scared her a little to see that expression on him.

- Why won't you just stay to keep an eye on me? - his voice low, with an undertone she so often heard when he flirted with her.

- You're a big boy, Ketch, we both know that even stitching you up was superfluous, you can perfectly well tend to yourself, - a smile. Harper tried to brush it off jokingly, ready to make her leave, but his grasp on her wrist only grew stronger.

- Stay. At least for this night. Please, - the smile disappeared from her face. He sounded wounded, he sounded like he really pleaded. Harper broke away from his grasp, taking a step back.

- You don't need a... - she shook her head.

- But I do, - he stood up, taking a step towards her, not letting her increase the distance between them. His fingers came up to caress her cheek gently. - Harper, stay, - she shut her eyes, standing still and quiet for a couple of seconds, seemingly fighting back emotions.

- You don't mean this, - she said, looking up at him sharply and confidently, but in a moment, failing to restrain herself, she continues more quietly and softly. - Why do you have to be so cruel to me? - he could see tears brimming in her eyes.

They stood frozen in front of each other, her face so close to his, her eyes watering - not because of this particular evening, but because of all those times before he had behaved in similar nature. It was the first time she had so directly addressed the issue of her feelings for him. "Why do you have to be so cruel to me?" She seemed to be waiting for an actual answer. Why was she always so kind to him? Like he was normal, like he didn't hurt her? Arthur leaned down, his hand still cupping her cheek, his lips touching hers gently and firmly.

Harper closed her eyes - not as a girl would do in a pretty romantic movie - she shut her eyes, pressing her eyelids together, holding her breath, shuddering. A single tear ran down her cheek.

When they parted, though his face still stayed just a few centimeters away from hers, Harper opened her eyes again, her breath shaking.

- Arthur...

His free hand circled her waist, pulling her closer to him, as his fingers slid away from her cheek, moving behind her head, running through her hair. Arthur leaned close to her ear, his breath ghosting over her neck.

- Because I hate how you make me feel like I can still have a life, like not everything is lost. I hate how you make me feel worth being cared about and able to care. I hate how you make me feel, - he said that rushed and quiet. Pressing his front to the side of her head, breathing deeply.

- And what if you are lying? What if this all is for the sake of one night? I'm tired of guessing if you have a soul or not, Arthur, I'm too worn out, - she wispered after some time, leaning her forehead into his uninjured shoulder.

- Then trust me this one time. I promise. Please.

- Why?

- Because I need you. I need you to feel alive.

Arthur felt her let out a deep breath, her petite form pressing itself to his, her arms sliding behind his back to hold him close. She raised her head, freezing for a moment before their eyes met, then leaning up - their lips meeting now less gingerly than the first time.

- Does that mean you'll stay?

- You're such an asshole, Ketch...

- I know.

Harper hid her face in his chest, sobbing quietly, her form shacking, worn out both physically and emotionally. Arthur kissed her temple softly, caressing her back, for once feeling like he did everything right. For once feeling like they had a chance.

Happiness is a butterfly

Try to catch it like every night

It's escaping from me into moonlight

#supernatural #spn fanfiction #arthur ketch x oc #this is written half at night and half on school breaks please don't judge me #i havenot revisited this fandom in such a long time #arthur ketch x reader #arthur ketch #sam winchester #dean winchester #british men of letters #angst #happiness is a butterfly #lana del rey #oneshot #songfic

21 notes · View notes

apolloloki97 · 3 years

Text

"Solid as Stone" Ian Gallagher x Mickey Milkovich

Summary: What if when Monica came back, Ian went to find Mandy that day, but found Mickey. Instead of going right to the store for a hookup, Ian runs away distraught after not finding his best friend. Mickey can't help but follow and comfort the redhead he has clearly fallen for.

Or when Ian is freaking out, Mickey is there to comfort him.

Word Count: 2679

Warning: Swearing

Song I Wrote To: “Stone" by Jaymes Young

Note: This is just a bit of an AU what if kind of thing. I just liked it and I love comforting and soft Mickey and I know that day he could tell that Ian was torn.

-----------

Monica was back and Ian didn’t know how to deal with any of it.

As soon as she rolled back into town, Ian felt as if he was suffocating and he had to get out. He didn’t even care if Terry was home at that moment, he needed to see Mandy.

His thoughts kept flicking to Mickey but he knew that regardless of the kind of situation they were in, Mickey would throttle him before he even considered offering Ian a comforting hand. Mickey had been very clear about the nature of their relationship if you could even call it that. Ian knew that there was more to them just random hookups, but he didn’t have time to unpack any of it at the moment.

Mandy had to be the one and he needed her now.

Ian arrived at the front of the Milkovich house and barrelled up the steps, his breathing still labored. His fist made contact with the wooden door, frantically begging someone to open up. It took a moment before the front door was wrenched open and it wasn’t the Milkovich sibling Ian had wanted to see right then, but one he was always wishing to see no matter what. Mickey, who had a cigarette in his mouth, seemed surprised at Ian’s frantic look. “Gallagher?” he asked.

“Mandy, is she here?” Ian breathed out, trying to see behind Mickey and into the house.

“What?”

“Is Mandy here?” Ian asked again, his breathing still sporadic. “I need to see her.” Mickey frowned as he took in the state of Ian as the younger boy seemed to be running off pure anxiety. Something was definitely wrong with him and it surprised Mickey as he realized he was incredibly concerned about Ian Gallagher. However, after all the time he had spent around the kid, he had come to pick up on all of Ian’s idiosyncrasies.

“She’s not here,” Mickey told him, glancing over his shoulder where Terry was passed out on the couch. “She went away with Iggy for a couple of days.” Ian let out a breath, still very jumpy, as he looked back and forth, trying to figure out what he was going to do. “Gallagher, the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he rushed out as he glanced behind him, almost as if he expected Monica to be running after him, but the street remained silent. “I… I gotta go,” he stammered before nodding to himself, turning around, and half-stumbling down the steps. Mickey watched after him for a few seconds, still very confused at Ian’s behaviors. Ian shuffled out into the street and then Mickey nearly jumped out of his skin as a car screeched to a halt right in front of the redhead. Honking blared through the neighborhood as the man behind the wheel cursed at Ian who was raising his hands in apologies.

As soon as Ian was out of the street, the car sped off, leaving Ian to stare at it for only a second before he moved to run down an alley in between the houses, still somewhat out of it. Mickey glanced back inside his house for a second before swearing, “Fucking Gallagher.” Grabbing his coat, he shut the door behind him and took off after the redhead.

It didn’t take long for Mickey to pick up on Ian’s trail as the kid had the loudest footsteps on the Southside. Mickey kept telling himself that the only reason he was doing this was that he wanted to know if Ian was on something and if he could get a hit. However, behind the denial, he knew the truth. He did care about Gallagher and he could tell Ian was going through something.

It was only another block that Mickey finally found him. Ian was on the ground, his back against the wall of the empty alleyway and he was breathing harder than he was when he had shown up on Mickey’s porch. Slowly, Mickey approached him, keeping an eye on the redhead’s hands. He knew Ian well enough to know that the kid could punch just as well as anyone on the Southside and he wasn’t looking forward to being on the other side of one of those freckled fists if he startled him.

“Gallagher?” Mickey tried, but Ian remained frozen, his eyes only on the cold asphalt. “Gallagher,” he tried again, but still, Ian remained oblivious to his presence. With a sigh, Mickey ran a hand through his hair before finally stepping right into the other boy’s view. “Ian?” he asked, softer this time. Ian’s breath stuttered for a second before his eyes flicked to the worried blue ones above him.

“What do you want?” Ian asked and while the words sent a dagger to Mickey’s heart, it was a valid question. Why had he followed him? Ian had no reason to trust that Mickey Milkovich cared for him. Mickey hated that he had led him to believe that he was only using him for sex, but he understood. Mickey was never one for affection, but it wasn’t as if he had any role models to learn from. Colin had tried to somewhat raise his younger siblings, but there was only so much he could do. Mickey was on his own in this department, but he was hoping Ian could be the beginning of his effort to show the compassion he clearly felt.

“What happened?” Mickey asked, finally crouching down to get on Ian’s level. The boy in front of him looked frailer than Mickey had ever seen him. The Gallaghers were known to be tough sons of bitches, but everyone had their breaking point, Mickey supposed.

“My mom,” Ian said. “My mom came home and just fucked it all up.” Mickey nodded, understanding immediately. If you knew about the Gallaghers and especially if you knew about Frank, you knew about Monica. Terry hated the woman and Mickey finally could see why. If the way Ian was acting was evidence of how her kids felt when she came back, she definitely should have stayed gone.

“Hurricane Monica,” Mickey simply said. Ian looked at him in surprise. Mickey sank to the ground next to Ian, their shoulders almost touching. “Fiona’s mentioned her a few times at the Alibi, Frank, too. I think we all get the picture enough to know she ain’t exactly mother of the fucking year.”

“That’s an understatement,” Ian said and Mickey was glad to hear that his breathing was sounding a little better. Ian let his head fall back to rest on the bricks behind him. “She always does this, Mickey,” Ian began and Mickey remained quiet, just letting Ian talk. “She comes into town and makes it seem like she’s going to stay. Debbie and Carl don’t deserve that shit.”

“Neither do you,” Mickey said automatically. Ian’s eyes flickered to Mickey’s who was just staring in front of him, his hands playing with the cigarette he still held.

“She’s my mom,” Ian tried to rationalize.

“So?” Mickey said, finally looking at him again. “Frank is your dad and he’s a piece of shit. Terry is my dad and he’s...he’s… fuck he’s the fucking worse.” Ian could hear the hesitancy in Mickey’s voice. Everyone knew how horrible Terry was, but Ian was starting to think there was more to the racist asshole than nobody else knew. “My father hates me,” Mickey finally continued. “He hates me and he doesn’t even know that…”

“That you hook up with guys?” Ian offered, not wanting to push Mickey by slapping the “gay” label on him. He had learned his lesson with that before.

“He’d kill me if he knew,” Mickey said. “And if I had the chance to get the hell out of dodge to be away from him, I would. I don’t care if they’re our parents, they don’t owe us shit if they’ve never been parents, you know?” Ian was quiet for a minute before he nodded, letting out a shaky breath.

“I don’t know what to do, Mick,” Ian said, casually dropping the nickname he had been trying out for a while. If it was any other time, Mickey would have made a comment about it, but he just enjoyed the rush that went through him at Ian saying his name.

“What do you want to do?” Mickey asked. “Cause that’s all up to you, man.”

“I want her to get the fuck out,” Ian said. “If she’s leaving again, it’s gonna be on our terms this time, not hers.” Ian struggled to keep his hands still and his emotions in check. The last thing he wanted to do was cry in front of Mickey. This was why he needed Mandy.

However, Mickey Milkovich surprised him as he always did.

Tattooed fingers suddenly covered freckled ones and Ian’s hand was enveloped in a warm and firm grip. Ian looked up at Mickey who was looking at him with actual concern.

“Don’t let her ruin you,” Mickey said firmly.

“She’s already done that,” Ian said, trying not to focus too much on the hand in his.

“Says who, huh?” Mickey countered. “Who says you’re fucking ruined? You’re not. You’re…” Mickey trailed off for a second. His eyes flickered from Ian’s lips and then back to his face. “You’re damn solid, Gallagher. A fucking tower of stone, so don’t think that some woman can just come back and fuck with you just because she’s your blood. Blood don’t mean shit when it comes to family anyways.”

Ian was looking at him with wonder in his eyes. He had never seen this side of Mickey and he was already mourning the fact that he may never again for a while once they left that alley. In case he was right, Ian clutched onto Mickey’s hand tighter, letting him feel the other boy’s pulse beneath his fingers.

“Thanks,” he breathed, almost afraid to speak any louder in case it shattered whatever peace they had built.

“Still wish Mandy was here instead?” Mickey asked and there was no malice behind it.

“Absolutely not,” Ian admitted as he glanced down at Mickey’s mouth. They were silent for a moment before Ian asked about something Mickey had just said. “Would you really leave to get away from Terry?”

“I wouldn’t go far,” Mickey admitted, looking at him through hooded eyes. “I could never go too far from you, could I? Who’d run after you when you’re going out of your fucking mind?” Ian smiled, trying not to laugh.

“I don’t know, I’m sure I could find someone,” he said and then boldly continued, “maybe Kash has a friend around his age.”

That did it.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Mickey growled as he grabbed onto Ian’s neck and slammed his lips against the other boy's mouth. Ian reacted immediately, tugging Mickey closer to him. Mickey’s heart was slamming in his chest and he knew it was risky to kiss Ian out in the open, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He had been wanting to kiss him since the first time he had seen Ian smile. It wasn’t until they had sex for the first time that that need to kiss him had intensified tenfold. Mickey grabbed at Ian’s coat, trying to make the distance between them nonexistent.

When Ian slipped his tongue into Mickey’s mouth, Mickey was done for. He could never go back to just having sex after this. This was...indescribable and he needed it all. Mickey was as inexperienced as it got when it came to kissing men, but Ian seemed to be a master according to Milkovich. Ian ran his hands up Mickey’s arms and then up to his neck where his large hands took hold of Mickey’s face as he continued to devour the other boy’s mouth.

Eventually, they both needed to breathe and Mickey was the first to pull back, though he didn’t go far. “That was…” Ian began, his breathing heavy but this time for a completely different reason.

“Long overdue,” Mickey finished, his breath matching pace with Ian’s. “I didn’t mean to do that like this. You know in a shithole,” he said, gesturing to the disgusting alley.

“Our whole neighborhood is a shithole,” Ian pointed out causing Mickey to smile slightly. Ian couldn’t help himself as he pressed another kiss to Mickey’s lips before leaning back again. “Don’t think I’m not going to take advantage of being allowed to do that now.”

“Who says this ain’t a one-time thing, firecrotch?” Mickey asked, raising one of his very expressive eyebrows.

“Me,” Ian said simply and Mickey rolled his eyes, but didn’t move away from Ian. His expression then turned concerned once again.

“Feeling better?” Mickey asked and Ian nodded.

“Getting there,” Ian admitted, referring back to his Monica meltdown. “You helped quite a bit,” he said cheekily and Mickey just snorted. “Thanks, Mick,” Ian said and Mickey could hear all the sincerity behind his words. Mickey nodded and then sat back beside Ian, their shoulders pressed together as if they were afraid to not be touching each other.

“Don’t think you can’t come to me when you’re in trouble, Gallagher,” Mickey said. “I ain’t gonna fucking turn you away. Not you.” Ian nodded again and then leaned his head on Mickey’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to go home,” Ian admitted. Mickey leaned into Ian and nodded.

“Me either,” said Mickey as he thought about his father back on their worn-out couch.

“Monica has to go,” Ian whispered.

“I could make that happen, you know?” Mickey said casually. “I still have that uncle down at the foundry.” Ian jabbed him in the ribs, but Mickey knew he was smiling.

“No thanks,” Ian said with a sigh. “Murder wouldn’t look good on you.”

“Please,” Mickey scoffed, “everything looks good on me.”

“And off, too,” Ian added and that got Mickey’s attention. Ian was looking up at him and when Mickey met his eyes, he could see just a hint of mischief in his green eyes.

“Are you coming onto me, Gallagher,” Mickey said.

“Always,” Ian said as his hands pushed into Mickey’s dark hair.

“I ain’t havin’ you get on me in some back alley,” Mickey said. “I have standards, asshole.”

“Then it’s a good thing I have keys to the store,” Ian said with a lower voice. Mickey chewed on that thought for a second before jumping to his feet and dragging Ian with him.

“You are a fucking menace,” Mickey whispered to Ian who just beamed at him, and then Ian’s smile turned softer.

“So, I’m solid huh?” Ian asked, looking at Mickey who wasn’t running away for once.

“As stone,” Mickey agreed. “You’re gonna be just fine, Red. Monica issues or not, you,” he said, poking Ian in the chest, “are gonna be fine.” Ian could have cried then, but he settled on grabbing Mickey by his coat and kissing him hard. Mickey kissed him back, still trying to get used to the feel, but he figured he’d get the hang of it soon.

Ian pulled back first this time and smiled at Mickey, grateful that he had been the Milkovich sibling to answer the damn door. “Thanks,” he whispered.

“You already said that,” Mickey reminded him.

“And I’ll keep saying it, dumbass,” Ian teased and then began walking backward, gesturing to Mickey to follow him.

Mickey just smiled and jogged to catch up with Ian. As the two of them headed to the store, Mickey forced himself to watch where he was going because all he could focus on was that Ian was back to being Ian and he, Mickey, had helped bring that smile back. Cautiously, he took Ian’s hand for just a fraction of a second before letting go. It was brief, but Ian knew what it meant. Sure, he was solid, unmoving, but to Mickey, Ian was his rock, the one that kept him grounded when everything else was trying to pull him away and if he’d let him, Mickey also wanted to be that for Ian.

#Ian x Mickey #Ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #gallavich #shameless #shameless fics #shameless fanfiction #Ian and Mickey fics #Gallavich fanfic

40 notes · View notes

mego42 · 3 years

Text

fav lines tag

RULES: share your favorite sentence/paragraph from each one of your fics and tag 6 other fic writers to do it too :)

tagged by the talented brilliant incredible @foxmagpie (💖)

tagging: @pynkhues @hypermania @bethsuglywigs @riosnecktattoo @missmaxime @sothischickshe @joeyjoeylee

some ground rules: I’m only doing brio fic bc at some point when I wasn’t paying attention I wrote a metric fuckton of it and we’re already gonna be here all day bc my other ground rule is I’m allowed to interpret the concept of a line however i want. i’m also gonna tell you why i picked them bc no one can stop me. cool? cool. good talk.

your monster looks like mine

okay so my first choice for fav would be the entire ~conversation around whether or not beth had a choice when she set rio up bc oooof I just love how that came out so! much! BUT if I’m limiting myself to something closer to a line, I’m going with this one. i love what it establishes for rio’s emotional state when it comes to beth, i love how it captures their push/pull constant one upping battle, I love the rhythm of the flow of it and the grandiose verbiage (i was having a frankly unreasonable amount of fun with natural phenomena imagery throughout the whole fic and this captures a bit of it). idk I just think it’s neat.

The words rip through him, a bright, blazing comet trail whipped across his sky, illuminatin’ his landscape, impossible to ignore.

Elizabeth’s spread out on the bed below him, golden hair tumblin’ around her face, mouth red and swollen, lookin’ up at him like she’s got him. Like she’s figured some shit out. Like she fuckin’ did something by putting that together.

Like Rio doesn’t fuckin’ know. Like that doesn’t fuckin’ haunt him, torment him, mock him every time she pulls some of her bullshit and he’s left picking up the pieces, knowin’ damn well what the right answer is but also knowin’ he’s always gonna be wrong when it comes to her.

a song inside the halls of the dark

another one where I’d pick a whole scene if I could BUT if the whole opening flashback isn’t on the table (idk I love it for 14,000 reasons including how it sets up the bookend structure for the chapter, how it sets up a bunch of the final payoffs, the tone of it, idk everything about it came out exactly how I wanted it to and I really love how it tees up the ending), then I’m going with this bit from the final brio scene. it ties back in a whole bunch of threads that have been woven in and out all the way back to the first chapter and closes them out in a way that also feels (to me) like a beginning which I love bc the whole theme of the chapter is it’s a beginning, not the end.

What does it mean then, that he’s slept so soundly beside her?

The playhouse glows softly. She wonders how many more times she can get away with sanding it before it weakens past the point of supporting the kids’ weight and the whole thing collapses.

Behind it, she can see the long shadow it casts reaching for the boxwoods bordering the yard. The lines of the structure frame windows of bright moonlight on the grass, eerily reminiscent of the windows that loomed large in the nightmares Beth abruptly realizes she hasn’t had in weeks. Not since that last night at Rio’s loft. And that’d been the last one since...his car. Canada. The night all of this started.

Beth blinks. What does it mean that she’s slept so soundly beside him?

A-live, alive, alive, I—

Her breath catches.

—

pills’n’potions

I don’t have any grand reasoning for why I picked this bit from the 4th (i think?) ~ch as my fav, I just really like writing annie and rio interacting and I especially love writing them with annie like, intellectually aware that she should probably be afraid of him but also spiritually incapable of not being herself and rio being wildly annoyed by it

"What?" He asks, giving the t an edge sharp enough to cut.

There's a pause. "What like you didn't hear me, or what like what do I want?"

[...]

"Hello?"

Now the sister sounds like she's getting annoyed, and Rio's really gotta do somethin' about the two of them runnin' 'round actin' like he's someone they can get away with not takin' seriously. Like he's some sort of pet. Defanged. Declawed. Fuckin' neutered.

"Get to the point."

"I mean, I kind of did in the message."

—

trade my heart for honey

the only thing sexier than rio being good at pool is beth being a fucking shark and rio being out of control turned on by it.

Dropping all pretense at being less than she is, Beth grabs the cue ball, positioning it slightly to the left of center where the felt is slightly more worn. Even without the tell, she's seen Rio put it there enough times to know it's the table's sweet spot. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Rio shift his weight before she tunes him out entirely, drawing the stick back and letting it fly.

It's as close to a perfect break as she's probably ever managed. The cue ball connects dead on, scattering the rest far and wide. The one and the six drop neatly into pockets, the four and five coming to a stop right on the edge of the left side and far left corner, nearly closing off that whole side of the table.

Every stripe remains in play.

"Solids," she says, not letting herself dwell on the way Rio's mouth hangs slightly open, his eyes glazed over.

—

swaying evergreens

the whole theme of this fic is the terrifying intimacy and vulnerability of sharing your most precious moments and memories with someone you care about and I like how this touches on that along with sort of nutshelling the double edged sword of grief-tinted memory which is another major theme

There's somethin' extra about these unguarded moments. That Elizabeth trusts Rio enough to drop her guard completely and give him this completely unvarnished look at her. It's been over a year since he's been back in her bed, since the first time he'd slept here, but there's still somethin' tentative about it. Like there's a part of him that's never going to be all the way over the first time he'd been here, that can't fully believe how far they've come, that this isn't going to crumble, melt, drain away.

Truthfully, Rio doesn't mind it, that faint edge. He's well acquainted with the different flavors of loss, and the threat of it's a counterpoint that keeps him sharp. Lets him know this is real but not somethin' he'll take for granted.

—

swear on a silver knife

there were a couple of sexy tension bits that made for strong contenders but ultimately this won bc I’m obsessed with how this reference to 306 came out.

“I told you. I got my own debts to pay.” He bit off the words like it cost him something to repeat them.

Beth shivered, abruptly right back at that picnic table, cheeks wet and staring at him, searching for any hint of the man she’d—she’d—anyone besides the cold, unfeeling stranger sitting beside her, blood so fresh on his hands she could nearly smell it underneath the scent of the cold, misty night rain falling around them, blurring her eyes, beading in her hair and on his eyelashes.

—

listening through the air shaft

this was a really hard one to narrow down but I ultimately went with this but bc I love it for a culminating look at how beth and rio’s relationship has evolved throughout the fic and also bc a version of this scene was the first thing I wrote for the whole fic so it was fun to finally get there with everything in place behind it. I also just love it as a reference for the dichotomy of both beth and rio and also how complicated that is makes being around them for everyone else

They aren't even doing anything, just quietly working side by side, but there's a synchronicity to their movements, a quiet peace that makes Dean feel more like an intruder than anything else that's happened today, and he hates it.

It’s so far from the guy that’d broken into his home, beaten him up. Who’d looked at him with those terrifying, blank, shark eyes before casually shooting him in the chest like it was nothing right where they’re about to sit down and share a meal.

A guy, Dean suddenly realizes, he hasn’t seen any hint of in a long, long time. It’s not that he doesn’t think that part of him isn’t there, it’s just...it’s weird, is all, how completely he puts it away.

It reminds Dean of Beth, actually, now that he’s thinking about it.

God. They look so...so domestic. Sweet. Disarming in a way that completely undermines everything Dean thought he'd known about the guy and their whole...thing.

He just—he doesn't get it, what Beth sees in him.

—

now use both hands

idk I just like this bit let me live

"What are you—what service?"

He makes himself take the route through the showroom that brings him right past her, leaning in and softly brushing a lock of hair out of her face for the first time in longer than he can remember.

Her eyes flutter shut, and he feels absolutely nothing.

"Helping sad, lonely housewives get off once their husbands are done with them."

Her eyes snap open, and he makes himself look at her long enough to watch the hit land and the hurt bloom.

He's empty, untouchable, she's nothing to him.

Rio doesn't look back.

—

I'd give her a HA! And a HI-YA!

you can take my made up backstory for rio and mick from me when you pry it from my cold dead hands.

Mick had been there the first time Rio'd had to get his hands all the way dirty and had kept an eye on him when he'd gotten blackout drunk after, and Rio'd done the same for him. Every bloody, grimy step Rio'd climbed, Mick had been right there with him, watching his back all the way to the top.

The point is Rio's Mick's brother in every way that counts.

Mick'd seen him twisted up over business and twisted up over personal shit, but he's never seen him let both get twisted up like he had since that fuckin' weasel Boomer'd got his ass handed to him and Rio'd gotten curious about it.

—

as the world turns, the blunt burns

I pull this every time I have to pick a fav and I can’t even really explain it aside from I think I’m really, really funny and that’s enough

Beth suddenly sobers as much as she can when she feels like she's simultaneously floating away and sinking into the Earth and wipes her eyes. "Are you gonna get in trouble?"

"You're in the house, ain't you?" He's answering Beth but looking at Rio.

"Mick," Beth frantically tugs at his pant leg because apparently, he doesn't have all of the information. "We're in the yard."

"Yeah, Mick," Rio says, glaring. "You're in the yard."

Mick shrugs, and Beth realizes he isn't scared of Rio at all. That's a neat trick. How does he do that? Maybe he can teach her.

—

smoke, fire, it’s all going up

there are realistically many other better lines in this fic but this one never fails to make me laugh so it remains my fav.

"You- you-" She sputters at him, flailing around a little. "You were the one that started mailing me pieces of a dead body."

"You blocked my number." Rio snarls, which is not what he'd meant to say, and he hates that she trips him up.

"That is not a proportionate response!"

—

got a kiss (with your name on it)

it was this or the text exchange at the beginning of the fic bc I strongly believe established relationship brio would continually roast each other for their past dumbassery but the elizabeth kink won out

"Come here," Rio's voice is thick but insistent in a way that brings every cell of Beth's body to attention. She hooks her thumb over her bottom teeth and drags her lower lip a little, a gesture full of who me mock innocence, waiting for him to say-

"Elizabeth." There it is.

There's an endless amount of things that Beth finds ferociously, irresistibly sexy about Rio, but when he says her full name in that commanding tone? Even if she's pissed the fuck off and has no intention of doing what he wants, it gives her goosebumps.

—

say it’s all in my head (i remember what you said)

I will be real with y’all, I forget I wrote this fic a lot of the time hahahaha but! that means every time I’m reminded I go back and am like oh yeah! I like this! anyway there isn’t like, one specific but I really love most as much as I really like the tentative breathless nervousness and then also overwhelming so muchness and I like how this but captures both of those

For a single, breathless moment, she stands in the middle of the room, alone and terrified.

Then Rio wets his lips and comes towards her, moving with that languid grace she's never been able to look away from even before she had any idea why that could be.

All of the fear collapses like a dying star, sending a supernova of relief and molten heat zinging through her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Her head swims, and every cell in her body feels like it's leaning towards him- like she's made of magnets on a molecular level and he's the lodestone.

He gently pushes her bangs off of her forehead, slowly running his fingertip down the side of her face, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He tilts his head towards hers and stops, going no further than halfway, leaving it up to her to close the distance.

She lets her eyes fall shut as she leans into him and tentatively touches her mouth to his for the first time.

—

the world is on fire (and no one can save me) / what a wicked game you played (to make me feel this way)

two for one!!! idk if either of these is my number one favorite line from either fic individually but I really like how they both play together. I like writing beth and rio pov and having them mirror each other’s narration both in thought and structure a lot bc I like thinking of them as two versions of the same

Beth checks her phone, nothing from Rhea, and sends a quick I'm here, text me when you're close, and I'll grab a table before wetting a paper towel and wiping away the last of her smeared mascara. With precise, brisk movements, she snaps open her bag and fishes out her compact, her lipstick, and her mascara; lining them up click, click, click on the tiny shelf below the mirror.

She can live with this; she has to live like this; she will live like this.

She flips open the compact and methodically dabs away the flush and pallor and shadows that are not grief, are not loss, are not anything other than shock and horror that she'd gone so far, that she'd lost control, that she'd killed a man (that man).

and

So what the fuck had he been doin' with Elizabeth fuckin' Boland, giving her chance after chance to cross the line? What the fuck was the point of a line if it might as well not be there at all? All because he liked her big blue eyes and the way she worked a tight sweater? Nah, that ain't him. That can't be him. That's the kind of shit that'll get you killed, and he's got three spent bullets in his pocket and a scar next to his heart if he ever needs the reminder again.

He shifts in the driver's seat, reaching into his pocket and fishing the bullets out. Lining them up on the dashboard with a definitive click, click, click. He looks past them to the brightly lit valet station. He's been parked in the back of the lot for ten minutes now, waiting for Rhea to give him the go sign. He ain't hiding, doesn't need to, Elizabeth ain't lookin' for him, he just wants to make sure he sees her before she sees him. Get a good look first, so he can size up the situation.

#good lord when did i write so much fic?????????#imagine if i hadn't onlly stuck w/ ch 12 of song #it would've taken me weeks to do this #tag games #my fic #shut up meg #gg related

18 notes · View notes

angrylizardjacket · 3 years

Text

dirtbags // 1: Charlotte

Summary: Motley Crue High School AU with The Pack (Lola, Charlotte, Peach, & Eileen); Winter, 1984. Charlotte’s halfway through her Junior year of High School when Lola arrives in town, and becomes a part of Charlotte’s life almost by accident.

Tommy seems to fall for any girl he hasn’t grown up with, Nikki and Charlotte are in agreement that their friendship becoming public knowledge would be social suicide for them both, Vince is a tool, and Eileen is still mad at him for what happened over Summer.

A/N: 8829 words. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO @misscharlottelee this has literally been in the works for what’s felt like a year, but i decided that i can’t keep putting it off forever, so here. part 1. i think im going to try and put these out weekly?? maybe sooner?? but i adore you and i of course absolutely adore @josaphinebaker so i’m glad to finally let you all enjoy the long-awaited, multi-part HS AU (me, not posting writing for months: AND WHAT’S THIS? THE HS AU WITH A STEEL CHAIR --) ft. a softer world quotes

who said life can’t be an adventure? because whoever said that is probably the villain.

There’s a place for everything, and everything has it’s place. That’s they way the world works, at least, that’s the motto the rest of the cheerleading team seems to adhere to almost religiously. Charlotte, who’s been on the team for almost a full year and a half, since the start of her Sophmore year, can’t see the world so black and white. It’s not that she signed up to be a Cheerleader to fulfil some bitchy, blonde stereotype, it’s more that she had free time to fill and thought it would be fun. It took her a few months to find her footing once she’d been offered a place on the team, and was quickly thrust into her school’s the social spotlight, but she managed in the end, and had been managing ever since, mostly.

“Charlie, you’re so lucky,” Tommy, her cousin, lamented to her, driving her home after cheer practice, and marching band, had finished for the day. He was still in his uniform, as was Charlotte, and she gave him a sidelong glance, picking at the nail polish on her thumb. She doesn’t even give him an answer; ever since she’d joined the team, he had felt the need to wax poetic about the other cheerleaders and their uniforms. It’s so familiar that she doesn’t even need to prompt him into mooning over seeing Pamela in the cafeteria that day.

“She’s never going to date you if you don’t talk to her,” Charlotte’s smile is sly as her gaze slides back to the road, and the sun drifting towards the horizon.

“If Pam ever found out I’d looked at her, she’d probably just spit on me, call me pathetic or some shit,” Tommy’s eyeroll is implied by the flatness of his tone, but Charlotte can’t help but laugh.

“Oh Tommy, everyone looks at Pam,” she reminds him, and Tommy lets out an annoyed whine.

“I know,” he groans, clearly not cheered by that fact, feeling ever the more hopeless, and they fall into silence. Charlotte reaches down beside her seat and lifts a lever, pushing the seat back so she could comfortably rest her feet on his dashboard.

“Did you hear someone finally bought the MacCready burger joint? Dad was talking about it yesterday,” Tommy says mildly, making a left-hand turn onto their street. Charlotte raises her eyebrows, intrigued, but doesn’t speak. Tommy knows her well enough to take her silence as an invitation to go on, “Mrs Mac is going into hospice care and apparently some guy bought it and moved into town.”

“Oh shit, poor Mrs Mac,” Charlotte muses, and crosses her ankles on the dash, “hopefully their food is edible now.”

“Their burgers were great!” Tommy protested loudly.

“Their burgers were trash, Tommy! You’re just a rat -!”

“I’m not a rat!” He argues back, pulling into the gas station around the corner from their house. Tommy pulls up beside one of the pumps, and Charlotte gets out to browse the various snacks on offer inside the service station.

“Afternoon, Mick,” Charlotte calls out to the gas station attendant, the guy who’s been working here since he was fourteen, who’s currently got an electrical apprenticeship every other day. Charlotte realizes she might know too much about him considering he barely communicates in grunts most of the time. It’s not that he can’t speak, it’s just that he has a well documented dislike of her over exuberant cousin.

As expected, Mick doesn’t look up from his copy of Rolling Stone behind the counter, but makes a noise of acknowledgement.

Before Tommy has finished filling the tank, an unfamiliar figure enters the gas station, breezing past Charlotte and snatching up a packet of pork rinds, moving to the drinks fridge and taking a can of lemonade. The person is a young woman, though Charlotte doesn’t get a good look at her face; she’s got silky, black hair down to the small of her back, beneath a backwards baseball cap, and she’s the most notable of her clothes are her scuffed, black boots, and her oversized, black denim jacket littered with patches and pins.

When she puts her items on the counter in front of Mick, she pauses, frowning at the display, and Tommy enters the shop with an oblivious smile, asking if Charlotte had decided on anything.

“Can I help you?” Mick asks flatly, and the girl holds up a single finger, the universal signal for wait, and Mick huffs, but remains quiet. The girl adds a packet of gum to her haul, and leans her elbows on the counter.

“And a pack of Marlboros.”

Mick scowls.

“How old are you?”

“Are you being paid enough to care?” She responds, voice a low, challenging alto, and after a moment of deliberation, Mick actually shrugs, and turns to the cigarette display, picking out a pack for her as she pulled a few bills from her back pocket. After everything’s paid for, and the various food and drink had been stashed in the numerous pockets of her jacket, the girl is quick to open the cigarettes.

“They’re for my dad,” she explains, taking one out and putting it between her lips, grinning, “mostly.”

She passes a bewildered Tommy and Charlotte on the way out, giving them a flat look over, eyebrow raising minutely at the sight of Charlotte’s cheerleading uniform, but she’s quickly out the door. Tommy, flabbergasted at her display of confidence, marches straight up to counter and leans on it like he’d seen the woman do.

“A pack of -”

“Fuck off,” Mick tells him, before Tommy even finishes his sentence. Charlotte snorts a laugh, approaching the counter with a bottle of diet coke.

“Fifteen bucks on pump three,” Tommy sighs, pulling out his wallet, “and Charlie’s drink.”

“Do you know her, Mick?” Charlotte asks, still smiling, mind playing over the interaction.

“Do I look like I know her?” Mick grumbles, counting the handful of quarters Tommy had passed him with a ten dollar bill. Tommy, however, has never in his life taken Mick’s constant foul mood to heart, even when he probably should.

“He loves me, secretly, I know he does,” Tommy grinned when they were back in the car, heading to Charlotte’s house to drop her off, “we’ve known each other for five years, we’ll be friends any day now.”

“Tommy, he’s three days away from just decking you when you go to pay.”

“Which is a step up from when you said he’d throw me in front of traffic,” Tommy, ever the optimistic dumbass, chooses to look on the bright side. Tommy wears his affection on his sleeve, and seems to find himself trying to befriend anyone who would sooner fight him, if his hero-worship of local punk Nikki Sixx is anything to go by. It’s with a painful clarity that Charlotte realizes if he ever meets the girl from the gas station, he’s going to fall in love with her almost immediately.

Which makes Charlotte’s accidental and secret friendship with Nikki Sixx awkward.

“Oh Miss Lee,” Nikki whistles at her the following morning, wearing a grin that’s all teeth, “you know just what a guy likes to see on a Thursday morning.” He’s leering at her, leaning on the mesh of the fence, fingers hooked into the metal as he presses himself against it, his gaze trained on the pleat of her cheer uniform split upon her thigh over her tights.

“Every time you speak, I consider vehicular homicide,” Charlotte tells him with a sigh, straightening out her skirt, already resigned to the fact the rest of her free period was about to be co-opted.

“Then I’m glad you can’t drive,” Nikki’s still grinning, throwing his bag over the fence, into the garden Charlotte had thought was peaceful enough to study in.

“It’s the only thing keeping you alive,” she says, plastering a fake, sweet smile on her face, closing her biology textbook as Nikki vaults the fence a few feet away from her. She pulls her jacket a little tighter around herself, in an attempt to ward off the slight chill of the end of semester air.

Never in Charlotte’s life would she have intentionally tried to befriend Nikki Sixx. How was she supposed to know that two of her free periods coincided with when he liked to show up to school? And that the secluded garden area out behind the library where she liked to study in said free periods was the easiest place to sneak in?

She’s threatened to turn him in more times than he can remember, and he spits back that she should just find a new place to study, but she keeps showing up, and she never turns him in, and by now most of Nikki’s flirting is harmless.

They were both very much of the opinion that having a public friendship would be bad for the both of them; Nikki’s got more than a reputation of his own, both because his name technically isn’t Nikki, but he fights anyone who calls him Frank, and because he’s kind of a slut. Also there’s still an unconfirmed rumour about him being expelled from his first high school back in Seattle, since he’d joined their school a semester in Freshman year. Everyone’s too afraid to ask. Charlotte knows the cheerleaders aren’t above making hell for one of their own if they were caught fraternizing with someone like him.

That being said, Nikki had made it very clear that he’d rather saw off his arm than admit that they were even acquaintances, scoffing about how he’d lose any and all street cred he’d ever had if his friends found out he was hanging around Miss Everyone’s Best Friend Charlotte Lee. At the time, she’d taken offence to his tone, but she quickly came to learn that that’s just how Nikki is sometimes.

He offers her a cigarette from the pack in his pocket like he always does, sitting opposite her on the picnic bench instead of going to class, his bag still on the grass where he’d thrown it. Like always, Charlotte turns it down, but it does remind her-

“Saw a girl yesterday at Mick’s gas station that reminded me of you,” Charlotte flips to the back page of her notebook, which was already littered with little drawings, and starts scribbling idly.

“She hot?”

“I guess?” Charlotte says after a moment of consideration, “didn’t get to see her long enough to really be able to tell.” Nikki hums thoughtfully, and Charlotte, without looking up, “she asked Mick for cigarettes and he was like ‘how old are you?’ and she was like ‘are you being paid enough to care?’“

Nikki takes a long draft from his own cigarette, and kindly turns to the side to blow smoke into the wind, instead of directly into Charlotte’s face, as he used to do, or like he does when he’s annoyed.

“Mick would have mad respect for a move like that,” Nikki snorts, and when Charlotte looks up from her notebook, she sees him looking off into the distance, giving a genuine smile at the mental image. Maybe this is why she puts up with him, these rare genuine moments. He raises the cigarette to his lips again, and looks back at her, eyebrows raised, as if prompting her to go on. Charlotte looks back at her notebook.

“It inspired Tommy to try and buy smokes too, but Mick shut him down fast; I swear, if we show up when he’s clocking off, he’s going to K.O Tommy the first chance he gets.”

“Which is a step up from when you said he’d throw him in front of traffic,” Nikki notes, and Charlotte pauses, frowning. She hadn’t realised her hyperbolic threats on Mick’s behalf were a standard unit of measurement for how much he did or didn’t like her cousin. They were bullshit! Why did anyone take them seriously? Charlotte’s often astounded at her own credibility, and how much people tend to take her at her word without question.

“What’s she look like?” Nikki asks, flicking his ash into the grass, bringing Charlotte out of her thoughts.

“Who?”

“The girl from the gas station.”

“Oh,” Charlotte pauses, thinking, finally settling on, “she was wearing heaps of dark shit, had black hair, maybe that’s why I thought of you. I don’t know who she is though, didn’t recognize her from anywhere.” She adds, and Nikki hums thoughtfully, nodding. With his free hand, he snatches her pen out of her grip, despite her yelp of protest, and begins doodling pentagrams on the back cover of her notebook.

“You free tomorrow night?”

“I’d rather die than date you.”

“Charlie, you’re not my type -”

“Nikki, your type is tits and a heartbeat.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d fuck you, but I’d rather be castrated than date you,” Nikki responds flatly, and Charlotte quickly shuts up, scowling, “but my band has a gig at a place that doesn’t card, so if you and that overgrown Labrador you call a cousin can sneak away from mommy and daddy for the night, you’re more than welcome to come party with the big kids.” He smirked, flicking Charlotte’s pen back at her. Charlotte’s annoyance has simmered down at his offer, considering his words.

“Nikki Sixx inviting me to see his band,” she mused, sly smile curling at the corners of her lips, mischief glinting in her eyes, “you like me, don’t you? You like Miss Everyone’s Best Friend. Soon I’m going to be your best friend too!” At least she was self aware enough about her people-pleasing tendencies to poke fun at his scorn.

“I like that you’re cousin’s obsessed with me, so bring him too,” Nikki’s quick to correct, but his heart’s not fully in it, if the smile he’s failing to repress is anything to go by, “I’m just in it for the ego trip, sweetheart.”

Charlotte gags at the pet name; the bell rings.

“She smells like an ash tray,” is the first thing Charlotte hears when she sits herself with the rest of the cheer squad at lunch, and she’s terrified for a moment that Heather, the Vice Captain of the squad, is talking about her. Discretely, Charlotte sniffs at her hair, worried that the perfume she’d spritzed to hide any of Nikki’s lingering smoke had worn off quickly. Heather’s not even looking at her, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially to the other gathered girls.

“Heather, half the people at this school smell like smoke,” Eileen cuts in as the voice of reason, taking a dainty bite of her food to punctuate her point. Heather’s expression sours.

“Yeah, but she’s pretty, why would she smoke?”

“Heather, you smoke,” Eileen rolls her eyes, and Heather sits back, crossing her arms, long, dainty fingers resting on her perfectly tanned and toned biceps.

“Yeah, but at least I have the decency not to smell like the bottom of an ashtray,” Heather raises an eyebrow, as if offering some form of challenge, and Charlotte watches Eileen bite back on a scathing retort, simply offering a withering smile, and continuing on with her lunch, “anyway,” Heather rolls her eyes, and starts up a new conversation with the girls on her other side, who were hanging onto her every word like it was gospel.

It’s quite possible that the tensions between Heather and Eileen may never actually die down, Charlotte considers, fiddling with the plastic-wrapped straw of her juice box. The thing is that Heather had only scored the position of Vice Captain of the cheerleading squad after Eileen, practically a shoe-in after two years on the squad and a pretty impressive acrobatic repertoire, publicly turned down the offer, quit, and joined the swim team the very next day, refusing to give a reason for any of her actions. A vicious joke circled the school about Heather being sloppy seconds, and despite Eileen never actually contributing to the joke in any way, or even acknowledging it, part of Heather still obviously resented her. The fact that Eileen still chose to sit with the cheerleaders despite not being one anymore, might also play into that, like she’s rubbing it in Heather’s face, even though she never would intend to do that.

Charlotte’s known Eileen for what feels like forever, since Summer camp in Grade School, living close enough to maintain a friendship, but not close enough that they were in the same district for Grade or Middle School. Both academically and socially minded young women, they’d found themselves in a number of clubs in those years that brought them face to face at meet or competitions, and thankfully, their local high school drew from a wider range of districts, finally bringing them together as allies, rather than competitors.

“Who were they talking about?” Charlotte asks quietly, stabbing her straw into her juice box, trying to keep their conversation discrete.

“A girl transferred into our grade -”

“On a Thursday?” Charlotte scoffs a little, “with three weeks left to go before Winter break?” And Eileen makes a noise in the back of her throat, an I know, it’s weird, right? Without saying any actual words.

“Something Fields; we just had French with her,” Eileen nods to where Heather’s now happily chattering with the other cheerleaders, earlier disagreement seemingly forgotten.

“Something?” Charlotte asked wryly, and Eileen gave her an amused look.

“Madame Laurent’s accent would butcher the name Sally, I’m surprised I managed to understand Fields,” and okay, she has a point, Madame Laurent’s French accent was half the reason any of the students studied the language, if only to understand her, because her English, while technically good, was sometimes incomprehensible.

“The girl didn’t correct her?”

“Nah, just kept quiet, embarrassed, I think,” Eileen mused, and Charlotte hummed thoughtfully, “though she did sit herself right next to Heather; bold move, I’ll applaud her for that.”

“Bet Heather didn’t like that,” Charlotte snickered quietly, and Eileen’s smile stretched into a full grin.

“She straight up moved the moment the girl put her bag down.”

“The poor girl,” Charlotte shook her head with a sigh, before clarifying, “not Heather, obviously.” Eileen snorted a laugh.

“What’s the new girl like?” Charlotte finds herself asking, intrigued.

“Quiet,” is Eileen’s immediate answer, “couldn’t get a good read on her, but she knows a decent amount of French.” But she deliberates for a moment, “looks kind of mean.” And for the barest moment, Charlotte frowns, mind flashing to the girl she’d seen at the gas station yesterday... it couldn’t be.

“Black hair?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“I saw a girl at the gas station yesterday, black hair, kind of mean looking, Mick didn’t know her,” that was the big tip; Mick seemed to know all the gas station regulars, so she must be new. Eileen catalogued this information in her mind, but had no comment on it beyond a shrug, before reminding Charlotte that they had debate after school, and asking if Tommy would be sticking around to give her a lift home.

“He will be, he’s got practice until four too,” Charlotte said with a half smile, “and yes, he can give you a lift home too... Will Peach be needing one too?” She asked, referring to Eileen’s younger sister, but Eileen shook her head.

“She’s staying back until five every day this week to finish her science fair project, mom’s happy to pick her up - something about magnets this year - but I don’t want to wait around.”

“Wait, how long until the science fair?” Last year, Eileen, Charlotte, Tommy, and Vince Neil, who they’d still considered something of a friend at the time, had all come to support Peach in both her first year of high school, and her first science fair. Peach had come third, with a rather impressive display about which various household liquids killed plants fastest, and all three had cheered when she’d been given her ribbon, and Tommy and Vince spent the entire ride in the back of Peach and Eileen’s mom’s station wagon ranting about how she should have won, and scheming about how to best put a dead houseplant in their science teacher’s bed, like some low budget, home depot Scarface. Tommy may have become their friends via his place as a constant fixture in Charlotte’s life, and Vince simply because he had grown up as something of her neighbour and Tommy’s close friend, but their loyalty was absolute. Well, almost absolute. Vince was noticeably absent from their current roster of friends however, the then-four of them how vowed to make it a habit, and they could all tell Peach had been touched by the gesture, and Eileen, Charlotte, and Tommy were, at the very least, going to uphold that promise. A small smile plays on Eileen’s face.

“Next Tuesday, she’s so excited.”

if you put your mind to it, you can do anything. but you won’t.

So according to Eileen, Vince Neil is throwing a party on Saturday, and seeing as Charlotte’s parents still think the world of Vince after he’d been so kind of her after everything happened with her ex at the start of the year, she’s allowed to go. They went to middle school together, though he was always a year younger than her, in Tommy’s grade, and their parents were passive-aggressive PTA friends for a few years there, and, as mentioned before, he’d been genuinely sweet when she was at her lowest. Her parents don’t know that a week and a half into Summer break, right after he’d taken her to prom and promised to key her ex’s car if she asked, he started surfing, starting hanging out at the beach with the rest of the pretty, mean jocks spending their Summer in the sun, and had turned into a vain asshole. Or, well, more of a vain asshole than he already was.

Vince’s family was well off, and his parties were legendary, which is what made her parents agreeing to let her go so strange.

What they didn’t, and would never agree to, was letting her go to Nikki’s gig, so she didn’t even bother to ask. Instead, she asked to spend the weekend with Tommy and Athena. Her mother calls to confirm that that would be okay, Charlotte packs a duffle bag with outfits for the weekend, and her mother reminds her to take care of herself at the party the following night, kissing her on both cheeks when Tommy turns up in his beat up Vista Cruiser.

“Why are you hanging out with us tonight?” Tommy asks, frowning, still in the clothes he’d worn to school. Charlotte’s grip tightens on her duffle bag.

“Because we’re going out tonight.”

Immediately, Tommy’s posture straightens, and his expression lights up; he was delightfully easy to excite. Suddenly he was brimming with questions as he drove, fighting to keep his eyes on the road, and Charlotte let herself relax a little, glad to see he was onboard.

“Nikki Sixx’s band -”

“- is playing tonight!” Tommy finishes her sentence, his voice breaking on the last word out of excitement, though Charlotte kindly doesn’t comment, and it doesn’t stop Tommy’s eyes from sparkling, “he wrote it in sharpie in pretty much every bathroom in the school; you want to go?” Yeah, that sounds about par for the course for Nikki Sixx’s brand of advertising.

“You’re half in love with the guy,” Charlotte ignored Tommy’s spluttered protests, “so I wanna see what the hype is about,” she lied easily. She wasn’t a fan of lying to Tommy, he deserved better than that, but he also might crash if he knows that Nikki had personally invited them.

Tommy begs his mom to let them go, promising to be safe and be back by midnight, and the moment Charlotte vouches for him, his mother’s concern melts into agreement, and Athena complains that she’s never allowed to go anywhere. Tommy sticks his tongue out at her, and she kicks him in the shins, scowling, until Charlotte asks her to help her get ready, and Athena brightens considerably.

“Charlie you look like a badass!” Tommy delights when he steps out of the bathroom, hair all teased up, eyeliner expertly applied his waterline, wearing an outrageous outfit. He was going to fit in easily.

“Holy shit, dude, so do you -”

“Tommy! That’s my shirt!” Athena accused, storming over to him, trying to pull the tight, black tank top with the hot pink diamante lightning bolt off of him, despite his jacket over it, while he tried to slap her away.

“It looks better on me!” Tommy snapped, escaping her grasp and trying to hide in the bathroom.

“Dude, she’s thirteen, give her the shirt back, you can borrow one of mine,” Charlotte sighed, standing back from it all.

“Never!”

His mother called out if everything’s okay, and while Athena yelled that Tommy was stealing from her, Charlotte called back that she’d take care of it.

“Charlie, please,” Athena sulked, leaning against the closed bathroom door, while Tommy told his sister to piss off. Charlotte sighed, before giving the young girl an evaluative look.

“Would you let him wear it for five bucks?”

Athena squinted at her, seriously considering the offer; if Tommy had made it, there would be no way she would have accepted, but she knew Charlotte was good for it.

“Fine, but if he stretches it, I’m telling mom about his stash of Playboys,” she threatened, to which both Tommy and Charlotte made noises of surprise, Charlotte because she hadn’t known about that, and Tommy because he clearly didn’t think Athena knew about it either.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Tommy hisses, wrenching the door open. Athena turns arms crossed, smile smug, and gives him her best try me look. Tommy wrinkles his nose, but stalks into his room, grabbing a five ones from his wallet and giving them to Athena, who Charlotte had never seen so pleased before.

“I hate her,” Tommy seethed, and Charlotte petted his shoulder in solidarity.

“I know,” and then, “aren’t you going to be cold?”

“I’ve got another jacket.”

The pub, Kings’ Hotel, sits on the border between suburbia and the CBD, and Charlotte’s been past it a million times, has spent a considerable amount of time idly staring out the window of MacCready’s Diner across the road, but never actually been inside. Speaking of MacCready’s, there’s a ton of scaffolding around it that Charlotte definitely doesn’t remember, and the sign’s been taken down, so it appears Tommy’s gossip about it being under new management was true.

There’s no bouncer, but high schoolers and music were already spilling from the building by the time Charlotte and Tommy showed up. The music is decent, if a little heavy, but Charlotte knows she could definitely get into it if she wanted to. When she approaches the building, she notices a gaggle of vaguely recognizable people all in a cluster, huddle together while they smoked to keep warm in the cold night air.

“Hi Heather,” Tommy calls out to one, putting on his most winning smile, and when Charlotte gets a proper look, yeah she can see Heather with her hair sprayed up and lipstick shiny, give her cousin a sceptical look. She does, however, notice Charlotte, and her expression shifts to something faux sweet and coy, a show of being amicable to someone obviously associated with a fellow cheerleader, and she gives them both a wave.

“I thought you had a thing for Pam,” Charlotte asks quietly as they push their way into the pub.

“Charlie, I’m into any and every cheerleader I’m not related to, why should I deprive any of the other lovely young ladies by only focusing on one girl?”

“Gross,” was Charlotte’s only comment. Tommy ignored her.

It was kind of overwhelming at first, between the loud music, the crush of people she half-knew, the fact that the bartender didn’t even blink when Tommy ordered a beer, or the fact that Nikki Sixx was on stage in skin tight leather pants, playing bass like it was his God given mission in life.

Her ex and his best friend had also been kind of obsessed with Nikki and his band, and she was coming to understand the hype. Between the swirling lights, the people on the dancefloor, and the heat of the crowd, it was almost hypnotizing to be a part of.

“You should get a drink,” Tommy urges, and Charlotte hesitates. She’s had spiked punch before, half a glass of wine at a family get together when her mom had been tipsy and feeling indulgent, and a couple of sips of beer that her ex had offered her when they’d gone to parties together, but she’d never really...

“I don’t know what to order,” she admits, hesitant, but still raising her voice over the music. Tommy offers her his beer to taste, but Charlotte was already well aware of the fact that beer tasted like piss, and she turns him down. She tries to think back to what people order in TV shows and movies, and tentatively approaches the bar.

“Could I get a jack and coke?” She asks, just thankful that her voice doesn’t shake. The bartender looks her up and down, checking her out without a hint of subtlety, and Charlotte fights the urge to pull her jacket tighter around herself.

“Of course, honey, that’ll be five-fifty,” the bartender smirks, and Charlotte gives an uncertain smile back, thanking him and passing over a ten dollar note. He gives her a five change, along with her drink and a wink. Gross.

“What’d you get?” Tommy asks, when she finds him again, standing against the opposite wall, already halfway through his drink. Charlotte’s holding hers in her fingertips, nervous, taking a sip and scrunching up her whole face at the taste.

“Jack and coke,” she hisses as the alcohol burns. Tommy’s eyebrows shoot up at her bold choice, and asks if he can try it. She offers it easily, and he too makes a face as he drinks, but pretends like it’s great.

They see more people they recognize, people confused but glad to see them out. They’re almost immediately accosted by Keanu, yet another face Charlotte hadn’t been expecting to see, and he wraps them both up in a hug; he’s all dark hair and wide, easy smiles, somehow everyone’s friend in a way that’s so different from how Charlotte seems to be everybody’s friend, but he and Tommy get on like a house on fire. There’s a resilience they both seem to have, and a shared enthusiasm, despite the fact that Keanu was a Senior, a year above Charlotte, and a full two above Tommy, but his good nature seemed to override these boundaries; the moment Tommy mentions he’d been thinking of heading to the dancefloor, Keanu’s more than happy to join him.

Immediately Tommy gulps down the last mouthful and beer and the pair of boys see fit to start cutting shapes on the dance floor with wild abandon, and so Charlotte finds herself at a table at the back of the room with Heather, a few other cheerleaders and their boyfriends, and surprisingly, Vince. He’s in white leather pants, and they look cool as hell, but also it’s Vince, and Charlotte’s fighting back the urge to laugh.

“Charlotte Lee, you’re looking fine tonight,” Vince slide into the space beside her, and Charlotte doesn’t roll her eyes, or make a comment about how he looks like a greasy snowman, no matter how much she wants to.

“Surprised to see you here, Vince, where’s all your popular little surfer pals?” She asks sweetly, and Vince raises his eyebrows at her, a retort on the tip of his tongue.

“I forgot you two knew each other,” Heather says, and she pauses, clearly deliberating, something dangerous in her eyes, “didn’t you used to date?”

“No,” Charlotte blurts quickly, though Vince is just as quick to deny it, “we’re friends- we were friends; not anymore. We went to prom together, yes, but we never dated.” She clarifies quickly, body language all tight and uncomfortable, which manages to go all the way over Vince’s head, and his hand comes to rest on his heart, expression reading betrayal.

“How long have been known each other, Charlie, for you to say we’re not even friends -”

And maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the alcohol, but Charlotte snapped.

“We were friends for years, Vinny, then six months ago you decided to spend all your time with a bunch of tools and bragged about taking me to prom because I was a cheerleader, and also - oh yeah, remember this? - made one of your best friends cry,” Charlotte hissed venomously, shoulders still tense, fingers gripping the edge of the table. Vince scowled.

“Peach wasn’t-” the words spill from him automatically, but there’s a flicker of something that may just be shame in his eyes, so he drops his gaze and starts again; “my friends are not tools -”

“The Vince who was my friend wouldn’t skip school three days a week to get high and fuck on the beach!”

“It sounds like you two have a lot to work out...” Heather seems genuinely surprised, and while she’d been fishing for gossip, this was too much, and she graciously backed out of the conversation, pulling one of her friends over to the bar. Charlotte was suddenly aware of how hot it was in the bar, how sweaty and oppressive it all felt.

“People can fucking change, Charlotte,” Vince scowled.

“You didn’t change for the better, Vince, whatever the opposite of character growth is, it’s what happened to you.” Charlotte spat, and turned on her heel before he can respond. She didn’t want to stand on the side side of the road out the front, so she heads for the door labelled Beer Garden, and steps into the cool night air.

Once outside, she realises how quiet it is, and when she sees Nikki Sixx at one of the tables with a blonde girl giggling in his lap, she comes to the conclusion that the band must be on break. The Beer Garden is mostly populated by smokers, the people around Nikki being the cool, intimidating, stoner punk rockers that she’d figured would be here, but that she can’t bring herself to approach. It’s nice to take a moment to be alone, she finds, breathing in the crisp night air, head feeling clearer for it, looking up at the stars glittering overhead.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Vince is a fucking tool. He’d made Peach cry the week they got back to school, and Charlotte had vowed to never forgive him for it.

After a few minutes, Charlotte takes the time to really look at the people milling around, wondering if she actually recognised anyone. Much to her surprise, in the back corner of the courtyard area, she did.

Side by side, Mick from the gas station, and the mysterious girl who’d bought cigarettes from him, sitting on the edge of a planter full of dead shrubs, both smoking, neither speaking, reading one magazine between the two of them.

Charlotte’s not quite sure who’s more likely to stab her, between Mick and the girl, and Nikki’s band of misfits, but she hedges her bets and heads to the pair at the back.

“Having a good night, Mick?” Charlotte asks tentatively, before giving pause. They’re reading a ratty old copy of Hustler. Mick looks up, and lets go of his side of the magazine, letting the girl take it, to keep flipping idly through.

“The band’s okay,” Mick muses, and seems to realise that his cigarette has gone out when he tries to take a drag on it, and he pulls out a lighter and relights it, “how’s your night been?”

“It’s been alright, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Charlotte gives an awkward laugh, looking to the magazine, which Mick seems to either have forgotten about, or not realise that he’s reading porn in public, but finally the girl looks up.

“Someone cut out all the tits,” she’s got an accent Charlotte hadn’t noticed back at the gas station, and still can’t quite place, but that’s not the part she focuses on.

“What?”

The girl flips the magazine around to show a Farrah Fawcett look-alike posing suggestively, with her entire torso cut from the magazine, just leaving a hole where the cologne ad on the next page can be seen.

“Found it on the side of the road on the way here,” Mick says, like it suffices for an entire explanation. Instead of elaborating, he offers Charlotte a cigarette.

“No thanks, I don’t smoke,” an awkward silence follows, Charlotte with her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her jacket, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, while the girl close the magazine with a resounding slap and threw it over her shoulder into the dead shrubs, “I’m Charlotte.” Charlotte offers her hand. The girl looks at it, then to Charlotte’s face.

“From the gas station, the cheerleader” she says, tone unreadable, giving Charlotte a scrutinizing look, like she’s waiting for the blonde to shirk under it’s intensity. Charlotte doesn’t back down, and the girl finally gives her a firm handshake, “Lola.”

Silence followers, chatter filters over from the various other groups, Nikki’s laugh, loud and clear, above the rest. Neither Mick nor Lola makes room for Charlotte, so she sways idly from side to side, people watching the rest of the courtyard.

“Didn’t pick you for this type of scene,” Mick muses finally, crossing his ankles and fixing Charlotte with a strangely neutral expression, cigarette almost burned down to the butt where it’s poised between his lips, “that over-eager cousin of yours, sure, but this doesn’t seem like it’s your style.”

“Oh, Tommy is here,” Charlotte’s quick to clarify, looking around as if he were about to jump out of the bushes and irritate the rarely amicable Mick, “but, I don’t know,” she shrugged like coming out tonight wasn’t her idea, “I’m more than happy to give anything a go at least once; people at my school are kind of weirdly obsessed with the bass player, so I guess I wanted to see what the hype was about.”

Mick finished his cigarette as he considered her words, giving a pensive look to the bass player himself, still surrounded by a gaggle of fans, and eventually stubbed the last of the ash out against the edge of the planter he was sitting on, letting the butt fall, crumpled, to the ground.

“He’s the only one with any ounce of talent,” voice gruff, Mick’s approval comes as a surprise to both Charlotte, who’s eyes go wide at the statement, and Lola, who barks an unexpected laugh, that ends with her choking on the smoke in her lungs. Mick thumps her on the back, and she roughly when her breathing clears, tears watering in her eyes.

“Whoever writes their songs is half decent,” Lola points out, wiping her eyes with her sleeve, after which she dropped her own mostly burnt-out cigarette, crushing it under the heel of her boot. Yes, she has a point, but Charlotte’s curiosity gets the better of her.

“Can I ask...?” At her tentative tone, Lola immediately tenses, growing defensive, “are you Lola Fields?”

“Why?” Lola immediately snaps, and Charlotte raises her hands in surrender. Mick’s arms are crossed, looking with interest between the two girls.

“I think you go to my school,” Charlotte quickly clarifies, but Lola’s scowl deepens, as if wondering how she knew that, “do you take AP French with a tall, ginger girl?”

“I don’t really know who else is in the class,” Lola slowly tells her, but it’s not a no, which is all that matters. Charlotte nods, but doesn’t press the subject, “it’s weird that you know that much about me.” Lola adds.

“It’s barely anything,” Charlotte points out, baffled at the sudden defensiveness.

“You know my last name and that I do AP French,” Lola says, and her gaze shifts from Charlotte to the gaggle of fans surrounding Nikki, as they all started to head inside.

“Well,” Charlotte doesn’t let her resolve falter, smiling, “my name’s Charlotte Lee, and --”

“Oi, Cheerleader, you coming inside? We’ve got another set to go!” Nikki Sixx’s voice rings out through the courtyard area, and Charlotte visibly cringes at the sound of it, turning slowly on her heel, still wincing when she faces him.

And yes, he was talking to her, his hands are still cupped around his mouth like a megaphone, a tunnel showing off his smug and toothy grin. She hadn’t realised he’d even noticed her, but he had, and he needed her to know he had.

“The world doesn’t revolve around you,” she calls back, irritated. Nikki lowers his hands, and even from this distance she can see him raising his eyebrows.

“But you’re here, aren’t you?” He leaves the because I invited to you as an implication only she would hear, knowing she would hear it nonetheless. Charlotte sighs deeply, shoulders sagging with resignation, and Nikki, feeling as though he’d won, turns sharply on his heel and marches inside.

“I hate him,” Charlotte groaned.

“You know him?” Mick seems rather surprised, enough that the emotion could be heard in his voice. Charlotte turns back, not quite sure what to expect when she faced them. Mick is watching Charlotte with actual interest. Lola was watching the spot where Nikki had been, expression carefully blank.

“He’s a pain,” Charlotte says, defeated, and Lola’s gaze flicks to her, expression turning amused, but before she can get a word in -

“There you are!” The door to the now mostly-empty beer garden bursts open, and Tommy makes himself known. He’s left Keanu somewhere inside, apparently, now that he was on the hunt for his cousin. Mick sighs so heavily that it’s all he can do to lean back into the planter, arms crossed over his chest like a vampire, as if the very sight of the kid exhausts him. From this position, the packet of cigarettes in his pocket is exposed, and Lola steals one.

“I’ll owe you,” is all she says, as Tommy approaches, in less of a beeline, and more of an unsteady wave, more than a little tipsy. Christ, his mom is gonna kill them both.

“I was looking everywhere for you,” his wide eyes betrayed his concern, despite his current state, but his concern turns to joy, upon seeing her company, “hi, Mick!” Mick does not answer, laying with his eyes closed, in the shrubs.

“He’s dead,” Lola supplies without missing a beat, pulling out her lighter and lighting the stolen cigarette, and Tommy’s expression falls.

“We should help him -”

“I can help him, don’t worry,” Lola assures, with faux seriousness, before her tone shifts to something light, easily distracting the tipsy boy, “you were in the gas station the other day with this one, weren’t you?” She gestures with her lighter towards Charlotte; Tommy looks to his cousin before looking to Lola.

“I- yeah, oh, shit, you’re- hi,” suddenly flustered as he finally remembered where he knew her from, he offers his hand, “Tommy.”

“Lola,” there’s a new edge to her smile, sparkling in her eyes as she taking in Tommy and his whole look, which has something strangely protective flare up in Charlotte’s chest. But then Lola catches the slight frown on Charlotte’s face, and it’s like she knows exactly what she’s thinking, because she lets go of Tommy’s hand and her expression betrays on the faintest hint of amusement.

“Lola,” Tommy nods very seriously, as if committing the name to his memory in his current state was quite the task, but he persisted nonetheless. After a moment, however, he seemed to remember his original mission, “Vince thought you’d headed home -”

“Fuck Vince,” Charlotte spits automatically, venomously, a knee-jerk response, and Tommy’s stunned into silence.

“Do you want to go home?” Tommy’s far too earnest and concerned for his current state, and Charlotte feels momentarily guilty for her outburst, hanging her head and letting herself breathe for a moment.

“No, the music’s good, we just got into a fight -”

“You guys used to actually be good friends,” Tommy hesitates, confused, and Charlotte gives him a rueful smile when she looks back at him.

“Then he decided that being nice to the people who have been friends with him for years was lame.”

“He’s nice to me,” Tommy says, sounding a little put out, and Charlotte shrugged, crossing her arms.

“And he’s still nice to me, doesn’t mean he’s not a tool; I’m a cheerleader, and you’re a guy, of course he’s still going to be nice to us.”

Tommy still doesn’t get it, but Charlotte decides to head back into the pub with him, throwing over her shoulder that it was nice to meet Lola. She could almost swear she heard a muttered ‘fuckin’ teenagers’ from Mick, all of nineteen years old himself, which just has Charlotte rolling her eyes. Mick taps Lola’s arm when Charlotte glances over her shoulder, while the rest of him still lays flat in the dirt, and Lola passes him the cigarette obligingly, crossing one leg over the other and smirking at him.

it doesn’t matter if the glass is half full or half empty. i am gonna drink it through this crazy straw!

“Vince is on the warpath,” Eileen’s always been able to remain composed while unreasonably drunk better than any person Charlotte’s ever known, and the following night, while Vince’s house party rages around them in the living room of his house, is no exception. She won’t say how many vodka sodas she’s had, or who supplied her with the vodka, but the way she was unable to suppress the amused twist of her lips was a dead giveaway that she was a little more than tipsy.

“Oh?” Charlotte’s eyes were roaming from face to face at the party, never sticking to just one, hands clutching a red solo cup full of cheap wine.

“Someone told him the person who keyed his car was here,” Eileen’s close to laughter, and Charlotte’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Does he -”

“No,” Eileen shakes her head, taking another delicate sip of her own drink, “he thinks it’s one of Duff’s friends.” She says, before her eyes going wide, and she slaps her free hand over her mouth - “sorry.” Charlotte, who’s too tipsy to care about the mention of her ex, is more confused than anything else.

“Because of me?” She actually snorts, skeptical, “as if Duff or any of his friends cared about who took me to prom after everything happened, enough to key Vince’s car.” It’s been long enough now that she can laugh at it, and the warped logic of it all, knowing full well that the girl sitting beside her was the real vandal of Vince’s shiny, red car.

“Can you believe Vince asked me to invite Peach? After all that shit he pulled on her after Summer? I almost clocked him in the middle of the carpark!” Eileen’s movements were relaxed and uncomplicated, so unlike her usual demeanour, so easy-going, so honest, sometimes drunk-Eileen’s openness caught Charlotte by surprise, “told him to invite her himself if he wanted her there so bad.”

“I’m in awe of your restraint,” Charlotte mused, leaning into Eileen, letting her eyes fall closed in an attempt to keep the room from spinning in her vision, “he’s such an ass; I’m surprised you’re even here.”

“The nerve on him, acting like he’s too good to be seen with her because he’s got new friends,” Eileen shook her head, wrapping her free arm around Charlotte’s shoulders, securing her, still people watching, “I should have keyed him,” for a moment, she hiccups, and when Charlotte cracks her eye open for a moment to guage her friend’s current state, she sees Eileen glaring into her mostly-empty cup.

“I’m still deciding if I should pee on something he cares about,” Eileen says, tone so serious that Charlotte can’t help but dissolve into giggles.

“What?”

“‘s why I’m here,” Eileen was so earnest in her declaration that Charlotte was a little nervous, if only because drunk-Eileen would absolutely do something as undignified as pee on something of Vince’s in an act of revenge.

“Would you key Duff’s car for me?” Charlotte asked to change the topic, all soft and teasing, and she can hear rare, unrestrained the smile in Eileen’s voice when she assured Charlotte she would in a heartbeat, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

Despite it still being early in the night, Charlotte knew that if she seemed drunk when she got back to Tommy’s house, her Aunt would tell her mom, and that’s the exact opposite of what she needs. Tommy can get legless if he wants, he only has to face the wrath of his weirdly supportive parents; if Charlotte comes home obviously drunk, she won’t be allowed out of the house until college. So she decides to get water.

There’s bodies everywhere, and Charlotte’s struggling to move through them, even with Eileen guiding her to the kitchen.

Charlotte’s been in and around this house so many times, it should be second nature to her; she and Tommy had spent what felt like half their childhoods in this house, within it’s pristine, white walls, and expensive, leather furniture, playing pretend trying to imagine what their future would turn out to be. None of them would have pictured this, of Charlotte, of Charlotte hating Vince and still stumbling, drunk through his house, nor had they seen Vince, playing pretend with popularity, tossing them all aside for a set of conceited fair-weather friends. Tommy’s never been able to predict his own future, too willing to go with the flow to be too certain of anything.

Away from the living room, and the record player, the music is muffled, and the chatter is quieter, as people are here for drinks, or snacks, while most were choosing to dance in the crush in the living room, or making regrettable, teenage decision upstairs.

Eileen tops up her drink with obviously spiked punch. Half vodka and soda, half spiked fruit punch. Gross. Charlotte looks on in disgust as she sips water, and Eileen acts like there’s no difference between taste, but she interrupts her own performance of stoicism when her eyes widen.

“Fields.”

“What?” Charlotte asks, confused as all hell, following Eileen’s gaze to where the kitchen opens up onto the patio, only to see Lola, in a full face of makeup, hair sprayed to high heavens, wearing all sorts of black, ripped, mesh and denim layers, looking like an intimidating cross between glam rock and crust punk. She was straddling someone’s lap, looking at them intently, what looked to be a black, eyeliner pencil in her hand.

“That’s the girl from my French class,” Eileen sounds a little surprised to see her, and Charlotte smiles a little.

“Her name’s Lola -” but her mouth drops open when Lola, in the dim light spilling from the kitchen, leans in and kisses whoever she’s sitting on. After a beat, both Charlotte and Eileen burst in fits of unsubtle laughter, not having anticipated this turn of events. They’re holding each other for support in their drunken amusement, laughing like this is somehow the funniest thing they’ve ever encountered, thankfully aware enough to set aside their cups.

“I- we’re intruding right? This is- we should leave-” they’re not even the only ones in the kitchen when Charlotte says this, gasping for breaths between her laughs, but they seem to be the only ones who have noticed what’s happening, or at least the only ones who halfway care.

Until there comes a shout of ‘yeah, get some, Tommy!’ from the bonfire about thirty yards from the patio, and Charlotte very clearly and distinctly thinks ‘oh no’.

Vince is silhouetted by the fire, bleach blonde hair catching the light, but Charlotte can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Shut up, Vince!” Lola’s partner, who is now unmistakably Tommy, calls back, flustered, as Lola hides her grin against his shoulder. Vince and his cronies, none of whom Charlotte knows by name, jeer in response. Then Lola’s leaning back and saying something that Charlotte doesn’t catch, but suddenly Tommy looks inside, his expression turning from flustered and pleased to horrified as his gaze locks with Charlotte’s and they both know that she knows.

Eileen is wheezing with laughter beside her.

Charlotte sees Tommy’s now lipstick-stained mouth mutter ‘shit’. Lola follows his gaze, and waves awkwardly at Charlotte. Charlotte also mutters ‘shit’.

Charlotte tips out her water and gets herself another cup of wine from the back of Vince’s refrigerator. A lot has happened in thirty seconds, she thinks she deserves one more drink for the night.

#mick mars #tommy lee #vince neil #nikki sixx #motley crue #the pack #charlotte & lola #lola&charlotte #the angry lizard writes

12 notes · View notes

nightwingshero · 3 years

Note

1, 15, 25, 35, 45, 55, 65, 75, 85, 95, 100 for the OC(s) of your choice.

Thank you, love!!!

1. Does your character have good aim?

Wren: She does, actually. She’s excellent at throwing knives and such, which shocks the hell out of her.

Whitney: NOPE. Not even a little bit. She wouldn’t try, she would either embarrass herself and say breaking her nail as the excuse not to.

Blair: Not...really. It got somewhat better with training with Oliver, but...there’s a reason she never played any sports. It’s not really her thing.

Camille: She does now, after training with Clint and Natasha at S.H.I.E.L.D. It took her a bit longer to get it, but she did get there eventually.

Naomi: Yes! She used to play softball when she was in high school, she’s rather athletic. Good luck challenging her to a game of darts. Just saying.

15. Did your character ever want to be a cowboy?

Wren: No, not at all. She wanted to be a rockstar astronaut at first, something her mother thought was hilarious. Wren swore up and down that Rocketman was about her, but uh...she didn’t really get the lyrics at that young of an age.

Whitney: Absolutely not. She was definitely a princess kind of girl. Being a cowboy was never her thing, she would rather be the princess or damsel in distress that gets swept off her feet.

Blair: Not really. She wanted to live on Mars and be an astronaut too. She loves space and always has. Blair grew up to be an astrophysicist though...close enough.

Camille: I could see that, sure. I don’t think it was specifically a cowboy, I think she wanted to be the Lone Ranger, like the show her father watches. She would make her dad pretend to be a bank robber so she could go after him.

Naomi: Nope. Not at all. She was more into cops and robbers or princesses, to be honest. Cowboys just didn’t really hold her attention. The only one that could was Woody from Toy Story.

25. Does your character experience sexism for the job/title they hold? (ie: she’s a girl, she can’t be x,y,z because only boys can be)

Wren: Not necessarily sexism, but Pratt does hit on her and stupid ass comments that piss her off. It’s borderline sexist and she’s borderline ready to punch him in the face.

Whitney: Yes, she does. She was raised treated like that, honestly, and she was raised to believe it’s okay. Joseph definitely treats her like a housewife, even as Mother of Eden’s Gate. She doesn’t know better, even though it really does piss her off.

Blair: No, not at all. Her coworkers love her and don’t at all think that she shouldn’t be doing what they’re doing. She’s smart and well-respected in her field. And that doesn’t change with the teams at all. Blair isn’t disrespected like that, that’s a big no no. She also helps Mick with being politically correct.

Camille: It depends on which job we’re talking about. She’s had her fair share as a doctor, her knowledge and rep questioned because she’s female. Now, in S.H.I.E.L.D., she has had moments, but not nearly that many. S.H.I.E.L.D. is known for having diverse agents, and the very few she’s witnessed be assholes, she’s corrected (or Nat has rather quickly.) With the Avengers, it’s a hard no. Her place was earned and she’s respected by members of the team, and those members are quick to address those issues when they witness someone treating her that way (they drink their respect women juice.)

Naomi: As a war correspondent, absolutely. Being told that “this is no place for a girl” was something she received a lot. But she did a badass job at it. Now, S.H.I.E.L.D. was a lot better, for sure. They welcomed her and her skills for gaining intelligence with open arms, she’s a resident badass. Once S.H.I.E.L.D. is taken down, she becomes the PR for the Avengers, in which she’s someone you don’t wanna cross. She becomes highly respected.

35. Naptime, yes or no?

Wren: YESSSS! That girl loves naps! Give her a slice of cheesecake or some ice cream right before, and she’ll curl up on the couch and nap while watching The Twilight Zone.

Whitney: Eh, not really. Whit is normally busy with something, and she would rather be doing something productive than nap.

Blair: Yes! Most of it is because she’s working all hours of the night on something in the lab, so when she gets home, she’s not getting enough sleep. So! Yummy hot cocoa and naps!

Camille: Eh, she’s not known for it because she works a lot during the day, but if it happens, it’s because she’s pulling long hours and needs a break. But Camille isn’t really a frequent napper, it makes her more tired, if she’s being honest.

Naomi: Nah, that’s not really her thing. She’s used to long hours, and knows that if she naps, she won’t be able to sleep that night. So she’ll power through and maybe just go to bed a bit earlier to catch up on sleep.

45. Would your character kill someone to get what they want?

Wren: Ehhhh...that’s a hard maybe, depending of if we’re talking pre-cult or not. Wren is morally grey, and if she had to have it, she would once she’s joined Eden’s Gate. But before? Not as likely.

Whitney: Yes! She actually has, to be honest. Joseph and the others pretty much numb her to killing someone, so she’ll poison someone who crosses her. She literally kills with kindness.

Blair: Absolutely not. Blair doesn’t put her personal needs/wants above the value of others and their lives. She’s very much against that and couldn’t live with herself if she did.

Camille: I have a hard time seeing it, unless it was a mission in which it needed to be done (her wanting peace, killing bad guys for it, etc), but those are few and far between because she doesn’t do a lot of the things Natasha does. But she is a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

Naomi: Eh, not really. If it is a “want”, its going to be revenge. But it’ll be with the right intentions and in the name of doing what’s right. She’s not as scared or worried about getting her hands dirty as long as it’s for the right reasons, not necessarily because of something she wants.

55. Do you have any characters who despite trying their best ended up being horrible parents?

Wren: I think it would depend on how you define ‘horrible’. Because Wren tries her best to be the best mother she can be, but feels as though she’s become her father and failed Harper. Mostly because Wren kept a lot of the Wrath and Judge stuff a secret, and Harper doesn’t take kindly to that. It’s not her being a horrible mom, just making bad decisions that affect her kids (mostly Harper) negatively.

Whitney: Yes and no. While yes, she protected her son and put him in hiding with Ivy, she still stands by Joseph for the longest time instead of leaving to be with her son and to take her daughter and sister away from danger and toxic relationships. She is able to redeem it, though. Her and Wren both, actually.

The other three (that I chose to do this for) are good moms, so I don’t think this really applies.

65. Is your character energetic?

Wren: Oh yeah, she definitely can be when she’s comfortable. She can get pretty excited and pumped up, often making Jane, Ivy, and Whit a bit tired. Randy, Gray, and Ro just go along with it, Mel and Quinn join in and encourage it.

Whitney: Yes and no. She really is, but she tries to keep it on a leash and not show it, because she was raised being told that it wasn’t lady like. The more she grows (as a character) and hangs with the rest of the group, she loosens up a bit.

Blair: She can be when she’s had too much coffee. Blair is naturally mellowed out though, often being more calm. She’s not reserved at all, she just...has more of a calming upbeat presence.

Camille: Sorta! It depends on the situation, she’s more reserved when you first meet her. There are moments when she’s with friends that she does absolutely get energetic, but she’s mostly energetic after working out or going for her morning jog.

Naomi: No, not particularly. Like Camille, she’ll get amped up for a workout, and there may come a time where she’ll get energetic over a big event, but she’s not one to get super energetic.

75: Do any of your characters wear glasses, sunglasses, goggles, or monocles?

Wren: She’s obsessed with aviators. She collects them, and they’re usually blue, silver, or black. She eventually steals John’s because she digs them.

Whitney: If she’s gonna wear sunglasses, they’re either the 50′s or 60′s kind. Some cat-eyed, or those bigger glamorous butterfly styled ones. But she does have some nice Gucci and Coach glasses she’ll wear. It depends on what matches.

Blair: She’ll wear regular sunglasses, mostly Ray Bans. She wears reading glasses from time to time, but she mainly uses contacts. Blair has a pair of backup glasses that have the tinted lens.

Camille: She used to wear glasses when she was younger, but she eventually got Lasik, so she doesn’t wear them anymore. As for sunglasses, she wears modern cat-eyed or just rectangle ones. Anything that looks good and is her style.

Naomi: Aviators, and that’s really it. She’s not really big into them, she has one pair of brown aviators, and that’s it. They do the job.

85. Has your character ever been led down the wrong path because of their anger?

Wren: Absolutely. That’s the whole point of her canon, actually. The Wrath leads to her joining Eden’s Gate and becoming the Judge. She eventually redeems herself, but it does lead her down a dark path.

Whitney: Yep. She starts killing for Eden’s Gate because of it, but it’s funny, because it’s her anger that actually helps her redeem herself and gain her freedom: killing Joseph and Ethan.

Blair: Yes and no...? Kinda...? Like, when she woke up from her coma, she found out Carmen had left her for someone else, essentially moving on. The anger is what led to her maybe running into some unfavorable company (Leonard), where she decided to just give him her engagement ring instead of running the risk of him robbing her at the bar they happened to run into each in (his favorite bar). In her anger, she purposefully went to a bar that was known to be a frequent place for criminals. But that anger also had her moving to Star City, where she became a hero. Sometimes her anger can get her in trouble with her powers, but that gets better. It all depends on how you look at it.

Camille: Sort of. The Civil War incident really...was something else. Camille didn’t see it as a dark path, it was what she believed was right. She was angry that something so wrong went down in Lagos, so she sees the need for restrictions and boundaries. Her siding with Tony caused turmoil between her and the others, even Steve, and it led to a huge fight at the airport while trying to bring them in. Rhodes getting hurt added salt to injury. Later, it’s shown to her that perhaps choosing the Accords was the wrong path after all.

Naomi: Depends on how you look at it, honestly. As head of Public Relations for the Avengers, most just assumed that Naomi would be in agreement to the Accords, but she’s not. She’s angry that the government is trying to have control over them, especially after with what happened with S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra, she even says that to Camille when they’re fighting about it. She fully believes Steve and sticks with them as things become divided, and she becomes a fugitive right along with them. So, depending on what side you’re on, it’s either yes or no.

95. If given total rule over a country, would your character step aside to turn it into a democracy?

Wren: I think this depends. I think, yes, for the most part. Wren isn’t one to be a leader, she would rather not, but can rise to the occasion when needed and if she knows it’s better she’s in charge. But she would want everything to be fair and such. It would have to be a true democracy.

Whitney: I see her as keeping control, honestly. Whit is the kind of person that will claim she knows best, and maybe she does, but she wouldn’t relinquish control. Not when she’s never been allowed to have it. If given the opportunity to do so, this queen would absolutely rule.

Blair: Absolutely. She would try her best to set it up with the right candidates, honestly. She wouldn’t want to put anyone in the wrong position where they can do harm, but politics are honestly not her thing.

Camille: Yes, without hesitation. I could see her turning to Steve, because who else would know better than Captain America (and no, not that knock-off Gucci Captain America they have on The Falcon and The Winter Soldier--we don’t support Walker in the Camille and Steve household), so she would ask who would be better to hand it off to.

Naomi: She would give that up so fast, without thought. She agrees fully with Sam when he says that he’s just the soldier, because she feels something very similar. She wants nothing to do with leading something like that, she doesn’t want that responsibility. It’s why she doesn’t really join the Avengers. She has zero interest in leading.

100. Are any of your characters queer?

Honestly, it’s safe to say that most of my OCs are. I have more queer OCs than I have straight OCs. But I have so many OCs, I’m just gonna list the ones I’ve done so far, and if you wanna know more, you can always send me an ask!

Wren: Bi, hands down. Her first relationship was with a woman named Lilith in college. She honestly preferred women in the beginning because she doesn’t trust men easily.

Whit: She’s bi, but still in the closet. She hasn’t had a chance to really be with a woman, but the attraction is there, and so it the want to do so.

Blair: Definitely pansexual. She thought she was just bi for the longest time, but she’s actually pansexual, and she’s comfortable with it. She was engaged to a woman before she went into a coma, and a few hook ups afterwards have been a mixture of genders.

Camille: Straight. One of the few that I have that is, honestly. She’s tried in college, but it wasn’t for her. She supports it completely, though. One of her best friends is gay, and she went to their wedding.

Naomi: Bi, definitely bi. She’s had a mixture of men and women in her dating history, but ultimately none of them worked out because it’s hard to have a personal life when you’re in war zones for the sake of journalism or working for S.H.I.E.L.D. where you’re undercover often in order to gather intelligence.

#oc: wren blake #oc: whitney seed #oc: blair chambers #oc: camille riley #oc: naomi clarke #my ocs #asks #guileandgall

5 notes · View notes

rileychester · 4 years

Text

I keep circling back to Jed being Harry’s dad.

In some ways Mick not knowing about Frankie was a blessing, he was able to bury his abuse when he wasn’t in the best place to deal. Mick got out, sure he doesn’t have the best life and he has problems. But Mick has friends that care for him, family that have his back, a wife that is his partner though life and children that adore him. Mick has a support system, I mean sure we don’t really known Jed’s story since we only got a few scenes with him. But he looked and acted so broken. He’s not doing well at all.

Jed was abused by Katy and then Harry came into being and I think Jed did know it was all wrong what she did to him. But Harry existed and he loved his son, even if he had to keep the whole thing a secret. Jed knew about the abuse and he knew he had a child that existed from that abuse. He watched Harry grow up, he got to interact with him, raise him, be a part of his life, watch him become his own little person. Jed got to love Harry and be part of Harry’s life. And then Harry died so young and Jed had to hide away all his grief as Harry’s dad and had to pretend he was just the big brother. He lost the one bright spot that he had to cling to from this whole ordeal. All the while, probably watching as people helped Katy with her grief of the loss of a child, knowing what she had done to him.

In a way Mick got a break from all the horror and tragedy that Katy put him though until Frankie showed up. But now he has the support of his love ones behind him. I don’t think Jed has ever had that chance, from the sounds of the clips, Jed’s dad wasn’t around much, so perhaps he wasn’t a great support for his son. Which made him easy prey for Katy to sink her claws into. I think he’s had to live with what that monster did with him everyday, never getting a moment of peace.

I just hope that Jed can get justice and find peace one day. He deserves it after all that he’s been through.

#eastenders

8 notes · View notes

doof-doofblog · 3 years

Text

"I Promised ... I Promised!"

Double Episode Post

Thursday 1st April 2021 - Friday 2nd April 2021

Hello everyone! Hope you've all had a brilliant Easter Weekend! Today is going to be another double episode post in an attempt to catch up! I know there's a lot to discuss, but first I want to give a shout out to @estimebongu98 for sending me some brilliant EastEnders related questions to answer over the weekend, can't thank you enough for reaching out and asking me some opinions on your favourite storyline! If anyone else feels happy enough to send me a message then please feel free!

Anyway back to the matter in hand, the first thing I want to mention is Iqra and Mila. Kim appears to be doing everything she can to get her new business aspect into the public eye. She is completely convinced that she's managed to get couples together, such as Peter & Ash and Iqra & Mila. After getting a photographer to the Prince Albert to take photos of her and hear her story, Kim calls Iqra over, claiming that she's needed urgently. Poor Iqra is clueless about Kim's actual actions. Iqra is understandably confused and a little irritated by Kim's actions when she arrives - technically Iqra and Mila aren't even a couple as of yet and Kim is claiming that she's brought them together!

After some persuasion, Iqra agrees to do an interview for Kim's business, and even happens to volunteer Mila so they end up doing it together, at first Mila isn't too keen but then agrees. What harm could it do it really? Well, as Iqra gets herself dolled up for the interview it seems that they'll also be getting their pictures taken also, getting in front of the camera, Kim instructs Iqra to do all these sorts of poses, but to no avail. As Mila enters, Iqra is visibly happy to see her appear, they both acknowledge how pretty the other one looks. But suddenly as the photographer takes pictures of them without their knowledge, Mila seems pretty adamant that he deletes the picture! Her attitude almost completely changes, much to Iqra's surprise! The photographer unfortunately refuses to delete it, claiming that the natural pictures are the best, but poor Mila almost demands him to get rid of the picture. This really intrigued me though, there's obviously a reason for her not wanting pictures taken, why does it bother her so much?! What is her story?!

Later, Iqra seems to think that it's her fault that Mila left so quickly! However Kim seems to put her at ease, if she's so eager to get to know Mila more and understand why she left, then she needs to reach out to her and call her. Kim insists that she can sense they have feelings for each other, and if there's any truth in it, she encourages Iqra to act on her feelings. Eventually Iqra catches up with Mila and to be fair, she's pretty straight with her from the beginning, she admits that she likes her but also claims that she's fearful of being in the same situation as she was with Ash, asking herself whether she had done anything wrong and informs Mila that she can't go back to being like that. It's then that Mila admits that Iqra has done nothing wrong and she actually happens to like her too - now this is where Mila finally opens up and we learn a lot more about her - she admits that Mila isn't in fact her real name. She explains that she first realised she was gay when she was a teenager but when she told her family about having feelings for a girl, they laughed in her face and ended up throwing her out - simply because her family didn't "believe" in it! It's sad to realise that Mila has basically disowned by her family simply because of her sexual orientation. Of course Iqra is deeply sympathetic and apologises for dragging her into the interview, but Mila claims it's not her fault - how could she have known?! But with Iqra appreciating Mila being open and honest with her, could this seriously be a new relationship on the cards for the two ladies?!

The next thing I have to mention is Bobby! After a horrendous first date a little while back, Bobby is determined to get himself back out there, unfortunately it is under a completely different name, considering he changed his name on his dating app, in fear of people finding out who he really is and finding out about his past. I love how dressed up he's gotten for the occasion, and it looks as if both Kathy and Kim try to give him some advice - which I have to say was a brilliant scene!

Going completely off track they begin to discuss men's flaws, just as Bobby is sitting there between them listening to everything they tell him. You just have to laugh and say "Poor Bobby!" as his Nan and neighbour discuss the different things that men do to women. Just to make him feel that little more awkward, Kathy urges him that if he's just meeting his date for sex then make sure she doesn't end up getting pregnant. Poor Bobby is traumatised and claims he hasn't even met the poor girl yet! In a way, I guess it was Kathy's version of the "Birds And The Bees" story for Bobby!

However, taking his Nan's advice, feeling a little insecure, Bobby visits the Minute Mart and purchases a packet of condoms - much to Suki's amusement, which of course leaves him feeling just a little bit more insecure as he rushes out of the shop. All I have to say about the matter is, why do men find it embarrassing for purchasing condoms? Buying condoms and sanitary products should not be embarrassing, they are a part of every day life and it should be normalised for people to buy the items without feeling any kind of awkwardness or embarrassment. Please tell me you guys agree?!

Eventually, Bobby makes it to his date and things appear to be going well. Only the first thing that grabbed my attention was that Dana admitted that she has no sense of taste or smell and that her Dad believed she may have caught Covid-19, but she never took a test to make sure. After all that Bobby has been through trying to make sure himself and his family are safe from the virus, would it be mad for me to suggest that Bobby could end up catching the virus from Dana?! I'm sure you'll remember he was almost religiously washing his hands and cleaning surfaces. What if after all that caution, he catches Coronavirus from his date?!

Also it appears that Dana is calling Bobby by the name "Rob" - of course this is the name he changed his profile to. Is this going to be some kind of alter ego for Bobby? Only because I happened to notice how confident he looked during his date, he didn't seem nervous as the previous one and he didn't stumble over his words. Could this give Bobby some kind of comfort blanket in a way? If he can't be Bobby for his date's, he could be "Rob" instead? It's an interesting thought - maybe I am getting a little carried away, but I think with his past it would make complete sense. What do you think?! It's fair to say that "Rob" has a successful date as reveals she likes him and would like to see him again!

The next thing I have to mention is Frankie and Mick! After the events of the previous day, she voices her concerns to Linda, claiming that it was a bad idea for her to move into the Vic. However, Linda insists that Mick needs her a lot more than they realise, she claims that once Mick has been to court and spoken out about his abuse, he'll be proud to call Frankie his daughter! Meanwhile Mick appears to have his meeting with his support worker and it's here that he's informed that 4 other men have come forward reporting that they are also victims of Katy.

Understandably, Mick is completely thrown back by this, he is completely stunned and overwhelmed by the news, especially after admitting that he's trying to make things work with Frankie, considering she's his daughter. It needs to be pointed out that it's not Frankie's fault what her Mother did, she is also a victim just like Mick. Why should Mick have to hide her identity, I mean I understand he doesn't feel ready for people and his neighbours to know about his abuse, but why should Frankie have to suffer?! He clearly wants to have a relationship with her, but he does appear to be finding it hard.

As he gets home he informs both Frankie and Linda about what he's learnt, devastatingly his concerns get the better of him and he admits he doesn't think he can stand up in court. Does Frankie maybe feel like she is in some way to blame? Is she the reason why he won't stand up in court? She eventually finds herself at McKlunky's and Stuart spots her from the other side of the room. In an attempt of giving her a peace offering, he places some chicken in front of her, Frankie is clearly spooked - especially after the way he treated her last time he approached her. But Stuart is calm, collected and kind and informs her that for a brief moment, the way she looked reminded him of how Mick looked as a kid. This seems to really move Frankie and she begins to listen to Stuart. He informs her that Mick is going through this court case simply for her, even though he's struggling. He tells her that she kind of needs to meet him in the middle and try and support him, do something in return for him to help him cope with the court case, gently placing a brown paper bag in front of her, he claims a nice sugary treat would help Mick.

It looks as if Stuart's words play on Frankie's mind, she returns home with the sugary treat from Stuart, placing it on a lovely tray with a cup of tea and portrays it in front of Mick. Of course it's a really sweet gesture - no pun intended - but what touches Mick more than anything is when Frankie reveals she'll go to the police and willingly give them a sample of her DNA, to prove that she is Mick's daughter, to also prove that he has been sexually abused by Katy, which would help his case! As much I am hoping this will help, I do fear that maybe the DNA test won't come back as the result we're all hoping for?! What do you guys think?!

The next subject on the cards is Sharon! So, we know she's eager to pursue a new business opportunity for the sake of her son, Albie. She wants something that she will be able to provide for him in the future. Now I know I previously asked the question regarding the building she's found once belonged to Ronnie?! (Considering the name on the front of the building!) - but I noticed that Sharon claims it's an unused gym, can anyone remind me when Ronnie ever ran a gym in Walford?! I simply have no recollection of that!

Anyway, she once again approaches Peter, suggesting that she wants to run a gym with him by her side. She would be the main manager and he could be the head coach or personal trainer for their clients. At first, Peter claims that he's a "Freelance" personal trainer and he's happy how things are for now. But as soon Sharon mentions that it must be nice to have a partner who's a doctor and pays all the bills, Peter seems to agree. Even for him, this could be a brilliant career opportunity?!

However, I have to admit this next section got me really confused. Ben and Kheerat appear to lingering as they're discussing where to melt the gold bars that Vinny got his hands on. Kheerat suggests it needs to be somewhere subtle, like the Arches, but Ben is insistent that Arches cannot be the place. From across the Square, he notices Sharon putting in an offer for the abandoned building, I guess it's fair to say that Ben isn't Sharon's biggest fan - but what is she wanting to buy a gym got anything to do with him?! Maybe it's just me but I don't understand why he's interfering, and what's even worse - it appears he's dragging Kheerat into it too!

Kheerat appears to be the friendly neighbour, almost fishing for information and what's she's up to, Sharon explains that she's moving on with life after a horrendous year but just after she's put in an offer for the building, an unknown source happens to make a bigger offer, it looks as if her new business aspect is crumbling to pieces before it's already begun, but interestingly Kheerat suggests she adds on another £500 to her offer which overrules the other offer being considered. Is Ben the one who made the offer, just to get more money out of Sharon? Do the Panesar's actually hold the lease of the building and is that why Kheerat and Ben want the building as a place to melt the gold?! I have no idea, but something just doesn't add up for me, something really suspicious is going on and I can't quite work out what yet!

Finally the final day of Stacey's freedom has come - the day that all the Slater family have been dreading. After Lily's fall down the stairs, obviously everyone seems to be concerned for the youngster as she appears unconscious at the bottom of the stairs, but when the paramedics suggest that taking her to the hospital might give them some idea as to what's happened, Lily jumps into action claiming that she's actually okay! As everyone realises that Lily is fine, her parents decide to take her to one side to try and understand why she threw herself down the stairs.

Both Martin and Stacey listen as the youngster claims that she was trying to save her family, save her Mum from going to prison and it was also an attempt to stop the arguing so everyone would get along, if she was to get badly injured, they would have to put aside their differences for her sake. Both Martin and Stacey are shocked to hear the lengths their daughter would go through just to keep her family together. Almost as a cry for help, she pleads her Dad to do something to help stop her Mum going to prison!

Trying to do the best for his children, Martin tries to have a word with Ruby to try and make her understand she needs to change her plea, but once again Ruby lies!!!! She even lies about lying - claiming that she already tried to speak to the police about changing her statement but she was too late. She's still lying about Stacey pushing her and causing the loss of their child and plus she's also lying about contacting the police - ooo Ruby truly is the Queen of Lies isn't she?! I really don't understand why, but as Stacey puts it perfectly, Ruby is terrified about that fact that Martin still actually loves her and will do anything to keep him, even if it means sending her to prison for something she hasn't. As much as this breaks Stacey, she admits the only reason she's pleading guilty is that she'll only receive 6 months in prison and the sooner she's done her sentence, the sooner she'll be out for her kids. Stacey's words seem to hit home to Martin, does he still love Stacey?! I truly think there's a part of him that always will - she is the Mother of his children at the end of the day!

As Stacey enjoys the last few hours with her children, watching them play about in the gardens, she informs her Mum about all their routines, what not to feed them and what appointments they have coming up in the week. Everything seems to become all to real for Jean, she stares at her daughter longing and informs her how amazing she is, being so brave for her children. Jean gives Stacey her word and promises to look after her children until she's back. As time goes on, it gets later and later and eventually Stacey's time with her children runs out, saying her last goodbyes, drawing hearts on her children's hands to show that they're all a team, Stacey says one last goodbye to Lily and her Mum. As both Martin and Ruby watch from across the Square, Stacey walks away in tears and heads for prison.

The following day, poor Jean is struggling to cope with all the young ones running about, trying to make them food which they are refusing to eat because it hasn't been prepared right. Lily keeps herself occupied by making a version of Ruby out of toast. I guess you could say that Lily sees Ruby as the "Wicked Step-Mum!", which you can perfectly understand! As Lily continues to keep herself to herself, later on in the day Jean notices her with a packet of biscuits and questions what she's doing with them, Lily then admits that she wanted to cheer her Nan up by making her an "Afternoon Tea", recalling that Stacey had one planned for her ages ago but she couldn't attend because she was ill, so she wanted to do one in the house for her instead.

Poor Jean is completely overwhelmed by her Grand-Daughter's kindness, excitedly she runs out to get sandwiches and cakes for the occasion, happily stating that they all make a really good team. As Jean hurries out, from under the kitchen table, Lily pulls out a huge luggage bag filled with clothes and discreetly packs the packet of biscuits. My first initial thought was "Oh god, Lily is going to run away!" - but of course Lily is much more smarter than that. Of course this idea of an Afternoon Tea was just to get her Nan out of the house while she put her plan into place.

After returning home from lunch, Martin and Ruby and shocked to find his 3 children standing outside their front door with a huge suitcase. Lily's acting suspiciously upset, informing her Dad that she misses her Mum and her Nan is getting stressed with everything and she pleaded if she could stay with her Daddy. At first Ruby tries to be polite, informing the children that they can come a visit anytime, considering that they are just across the road, but Martin realises he can't leave his children out on the street and invites them all in to stay. As little Hope and Arthur rush in with excitement, Lily's attitude completely changes towards Ruby, informing her that she didn't expect that reaction! Ruby is completely stunned by the girl's attitude, but I have to say I felt completely sorry for Jean as she came home, hands filled with party food and balloons to entertain the children, sadly she notices the note left on the kitchen table for her, at first she thinks it's all a joke, but when she realises the house is completely empty, she looks completely and utterly lost, I just wanted to hold her and give her the biggest hug I could and tell her everything is okay!

But I do also have to say - YES!!!!! GO LILY!!!! It looks as if Lily is going to make Ruby's life a nightmare for putting her Mum in prison, and honestly, I think Ruby knows it! But what is she going to do about it? She's not going to be able to convince Martin that Lily is trying to ruin her life, I doubt he'd even believe her, he'll end up using the excuse that Lily is simply missing her Mum and is lashing out. I am super excited to see what happens next. Thank you all for reading, I apologise this post being so late, but thank you all for your patience! Please feel free to leave me any messages or comments, I'll always reply! Thanks again everyone! Love you all xXx

3 notes · View notes

oficytheft · 3 years

Text

Finding His Way Out of the Time Stream: < Chapter 3 >

Leonard only slept for about 6 hours this time around, he was sure he would have slept longer but the feeling of being hot and sweaty made him wake up with a scowl on his face. He tried to roll away from Mick but the other's arms were clamped around him and he was still asleep, and Mick didn't exactly wake up easily when they were sleeping somewhere they considered safe; so Leonard had to basically pry his arms off of him before he could roll to the other side of the bed and throw the covers off of himself and Mick with a grumble of annoyance. Once the cool air of the room hit him he let out a huff and rolled back over into Mick's arms, this time facing the other and putting his arms around his neck as he closed his eyes and let their foreheads touch lightly and thinking that maybe he could go back to sleep before he was hungry enough that he had to get up.

With the way that Mick's arms tightened around him? He was fairly sure that the other was waking up now that the cool air had hit him. Normally? Even when they were alone Leonard wouldn't be so desperate to intent on staying close to Mick, especially when he woke up uncomfortably hot the way he had. But they had just started getting somewhat back to normal before the Oculus, and in the months since 2046? Mick hadn't been too keen on spending time close to him, and even if Leonard wasn't always in the mood for close physical contact like this? He had missed it then and would take as much as he could get for now. Yeah, Mick was definitely awake now; the hands trailing up and down his back were a sure-fire giveaway. "I take it this means you aren't upset with me anymore?" He moved his head a bit so that the sides of their noses pressed against each other.

Mick's hands stopped moving and wrapped around his waist again, the grunt of annoyance that he let out along with that made him open his eyes and pull his head back a bit at the lack of an actual response. He felt Mick's arms tighten in response and his eyes flew open, suddenly wide awake rather than slowly waking up the way he had been. "Long as ya ain't gonna go and die on me again, I ain't mad anymore Lenny." Leonard almost felt guilty, less because of what Mick said as a whole and more because of him calling him Lenny. He only ever did that after they started talking again after a big falling out, usually? It was only Lisa who called him that.

He moved a hand so that it was flat against the back of Mick's head and neck and pulled him in for a kiss, hand moving so that it rested lightly on the side of his neck and face once their lips touched. He pulled away after just a few seconds, having to crank his neck back farther than he wanted to in order to avoid Mick's lips as his head followed his in an effort to not break the kiss. "I'm not planning on doing anything else that might get me killed, alright Mick? I'm not goin' anywhere."

"Captain Lance has requested to speak with you as soon as you are up and have gotten something to eat Mr. Snart." He let out his own groan of annoyance and moved his head to rest on Mick's shoulder when Gideon spoke up well slowly dimming the lights in the room on now that she had sensed them awake, he was wishing now that he had just endured the warmth and stayed under the blankets.

Leonard let go of Mick and stretched his arms over his head and his legs, arching his shoulders back and pointing his toes almost like a stretching cat as he did so before going to push himself up on the bed. "I guess we should get up, I'm starving and I have no clue how long it's been since I last ate or how long I was floating between the time stream and the temporal zone." He rolled his eyes as Mick tightened his hold on him again and let out a small grumble of annoyance that was nearly a growl when he tried to get up. "Mick, we need to get up. I need food and we need to see what it is Sara wants from me. And that's not even mentioning the fact that I need to fix my gun because someone let an incompetent billionaire use it and he broke it."

At what he said Mick let go and rolled over to get up himself, but not without muttering under his breath in annoyance about 'stupid captain' and ' idiot ais that don't know when they're ruining a moment' that Leonard simply ignored as he moved to the side of the bed and reached to stand his shoes upright on the floor so that he could slip them on. When he went to stand up on his own he got a little bit of vertigo this time around, but after waiting a moment for it to pass he decided that he would be fine to walk on his own. "Sandwiches are probably no good by now, we'll have to get ya something from the kitchen. You fine ta walk?" Mick asked him, muttering slightly as he spoke; he knew that annoyed him to no end.

"Yeah, I'll be fine Mick. I can walk on my own." Leonard told him starting towards the door, his steps weren't quite as quick as usual but he did his best to cover it by acting as if it was deliberate and not due to the fact that he wasn't sure if the vertigo was gonna come back. Mick stood up and went to the door with him and opened it before walking with him down the hall, it didn't escape Leonards notice that he was walking closer to him than he usually did in the halls of the Waverider-even taking into account before they'd had their disagreement in 2046. Every few steps their arms brushed against each other, and he couldn't help but feel like it was deliberate; maybe now Mick could understand how he'd felt before he found out whether or not he'd survived that fire back in 2014.

"Sit, what'd ya want?" Leonard raised a brow at Mick when he spoke on his way to the food fabricator before simply shrugging and answering him as he moved to sit down at the circular table that was in the room.

"Just toast." Putting too much into an empty stomach is a recipe for disaster, something that Leonard and Mick had both learned at a fairly young age. His father never let him and Lisa starve, but there were times when he simply did not bother to go grocery shopping or would forget to give Leonard money to be able to do so; whenever it happened he always had less. He'd eat enough that he'd survive, but he made sure that Lisa had food before himself. He heard Mick muttering something under his breath from where he was now sitting at the table and had to actively avoid clenching his jaw in annoyance.

After a minute he heard a couple of people come into the kitchen talking, right before Mick set the plate with toast covered in Nutella down in front of him before sitting down in the seat next to him with his own plate of bacon, eggs, and toast. It didn't escape Leonard's notice that the talking had stopped, no one was sitting down at the table and the food fabricator was not being used. Staring it was then, great. Not bothering to turn his head towards them and instead he looked down at his food as he lifted it up he spoke before taking a bite. "You know the saying, take a picture. It'll last longer." He figured that would get the point across that he didn't want them gawking at him.

When Ray came over and sat across from them though he almost regretted it with the intense and determined look the other had on his face. "Why didn't either of you tell us that you were married!?" Leonard nearly choked on his food and had to grab the bottle of water Mick had brought over for him along with their food, Mick was entirely unphased though as Ray continued to talk and Nate took a seat next to the other. "We're a team, isn't that something we should know about you? If we had known maybe-" He left it unsaid, but Leonard could hear the implication of 'maybe things would have ended up differently' in his cut-off sentence.

He put the bottle of water back down next to his plate and picked his food back up as he spoke, leaning back in his chair slightly as he looked Ray in the eyes and said with a familiar sarcastic drawl. "Oh yeah right, if you all had thought I was killing my husband? That would have been a line too far, but my best friend? Who cares right?" He waved his free hand into the air dismissively before taking a bite of his food, not looking away from Ray as he watched the shame bloom in the younger man's eyes before he shifted away from the eye contact and started talking again.

"I just meant that if we had known that the issues between you were more complicated than we thought, maybe we could have helped you guys work through it and things would have turned out differently." Leonard almost felt bad for egging on the guilt. Almost being the operative word, almost wasn't enough to stop the growing annoyance at this conversation. Apparently Mick could tell as much, and so when Nate opened his mouth to add something in he spoke up.

"Haircut, Pretty Boy. Go away, we're trying to eat." The words were spoken between bites as Mick looked up at the two with a slight glare of his own; they looked almost like they wanted to say something else, but after a second they got up and walked away. Leonard heard them whispering about something as they walked out of the room, but he couldn't make it out. And when he felt Mick's leg push against his? He decided he didn't care and hooked his foot around the other's leg under the table as they continued to eat in peaceful silence, not even bothering to look up when Amaya walked in a few minutes later and sat down at the table with her own food after stopping at the fabricator.

#Leonard Snart #Len Snart #Captain Cold #DCColdwave #Heatwave #Mick Rory #;;D R A B B L E S #Finding His Way Out of the Time Stream #Finding His Way Out of the Time Stream: Chapter 3 #Chapter 3 #otp; Some say the world will end in fire. Some say in ice. [LEONARD SNART] [MICK RORY]

1 note · View note

mask-of-anubis · 4 years

Text

HOA + Taylor Swift Songs

Joy - Clean

Alfie - Daylight

Patricia - The Other Side of the Door

Nina - Out Of The Woods

Fabian - Death By A Thousand Cuts

KT - Call It What You Want

Amber - peace

Eddie - Long Live

Mara - Begin Again

Jerome - The Archer

Willow - Lover

Mick - Stay Beautiful

This was so hard because literally all of them have “New Romantics” vibes: Amber, Joy, KT, Willow... I could go on. More thoughts under the cut

. . .

Joy - Clean

Rain came pouring down

When I was drowning, that's when I could finally breathe

...

There was nothing left to do

When the butterflies turned to

Dust that covered my whole room

So I punched a hole in the roof

Let the flood carry away all my pictures of you

—————

Alfie - Daylight

Luck of the draw only draws the unlucky

And so I became the butt of the joke

I wounded the good and I trusted the wicked

Clearing the air, I breathed in the smoke

...

Back and forth from New York (Sneaking in your bed)

I once believed love would be (Burning red)

But it's golden

Like daylight, like daylight

—————

Patricia - The Other Side of the Door

I said, "Leave," but all I really want is you

To stand outside my window throwing pebbles

Screaming, "I'm in love with you"

Wait there in the pouring rain

Come back for more

And don't you leave 'cause I know

All I need is on the other side of the door

—————

Nina - Out of the Woods

Remember when we couldn't take the heat?

I walked out and said, "I'm setting you free"

But the monsters turned out to be just trees

...

Oh I Remember!

Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet?

Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods?

Are we in the clear yet? Are we in the clear yet?

Are we in the clear yet? In the clear yet? Good

—————

Fabian - Death By A Thousand Cuts

I look through the windows of this love

Even though we boarded them up

Chandelier's still flickering here

'Cause I can't pretend it's okay when it's not

—————

KT - Call It What You Want

And I know I make the same mistakes every time

Bridges burn, I never learn

At least I did one thing right

I did one thing right

I'm laughing with my lover, makin' forts under covers

—————

Amber - peace

All these people think love's for show

But I would die for you in secret

The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me

Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

—————

Eddie - Long Live

And the cynics were outraged

Screaming, "This is absurd"

'Cause for a moment, a band of thieves

In ripped up jeans got to rule the world

...

Long live all the mountains we moved

I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you

I was screaming, long live that look on your face

And bring on all the pretenders

One day, we will be remembered

—————

Mara - Begin Again

I've been spending the last eight months

Thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end

But on a Wednesday in a cafe, I watched it begin again

—————

Jerome - The Archer

I've been the archer, I've been the prey

Who could ever leave me, darling

But who could stay?

...

I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost

The room is on fire, invisible smoke

And all of my heroes die all alone

Help me hold on to you

—————

Willow - Lover

We could leave the Christmas lights up till January

And this is our place, we make the rules

And there’s a dazzling haze, a mysterious way, about you, dear

Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

...

My heart’s been borrowed and yours has been blue

All’s well that ends well to end up with you

Swear to be over dramatic and true to my, lover!

—————

Mick - Stay Beautiful

You're beautiful

Every little piece, love

And don't you know

You're really gonna be someone

Ask anyone

And when you find everything you looked for

I hope your life will lead you back to my door

Oh, but if it don't

Stay beautiful

#dont mind me just vibing with ts and hoa at the same time #add you own hc if you have em #house of anubis #taylor swift #also delicate works for both joy and jerome #nina and eddie both have big change and long live vibes #for KT its less about the lyrics #and more about her being in an undefined relationship with a girl #mick is stay beautiful you cant change my mind #my post #hoa headcanon

20 notes · View notes

livingmybestfictionallife · 4 years

Text

Live Wire --The Dirt--(10)

Summary: Wren Ledden, Tommy’s best friend from high school, has had a rough life, and she intends to keep the nitty gritty details of her suffrage to herself until the day she dies. Only Tommy has gotten her to open up about a small portion of her troubles, and it’s only Tommy who she trusts with her life. That is until her life gets turned around sneaking into a concert one night…the same night Mötley Crüe is born.

@prettyyoungandbored, @hot-young-runningfree, @crue-sixx, @oskea93, @dancergirl5527, @thatonemoviefan, @casualcomputerarbiter-blog, @motleymachinegun, @motleycrueee

Previous Chapters:

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine

“What the fuck am I doing?!” Wren had been sitting on the kitchen floor, staring aimlessly out into the band’s practice spot for what felt like hours. In reality, she’d only missed out on the last five or six minutes, but during that time, her mind spun with self-actualization. The apartment wasn’t home without the band, without Tommy slamming cymbals, without Nikki grumbling at her for sitting on his amp, without Mick passing her a side ways glare whenever one of the boys did something idiotic, or even without Vince’s bantering appreciation of her help. Five years had gone by without a thought of that horrible person crossing her mind, and now because of some big mouthed blonde bimbo, Wren had reverted back to the frightened and fragile fourteen-year-old she had been.

At fifteen she decided she wasn’t going to let that tainted chapter bleed through the pages and darken the rest of her life. A year of fearfully looking over her shoulder, of feeling her heart pound within her chest so fiercely she thought she’d throw up, of not being able to trust a single damned person in the world besides Tommy Lee Bass was all it took for her to chisel her heart and turn herself to stone.

Although it was none of her business and she knew that some girls found power in their physicality and sexuality, Wren never held a high opinion for girls that didn’t seem to have a problem lying on their backs in a stranger’s room. This was half of the reason she never sought out any sort of romantic relationship; the other half was because of Clay. She didn’t want to be reminded of that night, and if she wasn’t touched, she didn’t have to remember. If she wasn’t held, she wouldn’t close her eyes and panic at the memory of having his arms around her. If she was alone, no one could hurt her.

Being friends with Tommy and hanging around with his friends during high school kept her safe, not only from the grueling torment more commonly known as teenage girl drama, but from having to fend off suitors—if they think you’re one of the guys, then you’re no longer a girl in their eyes. After escaping Clay, growing infinitely closer to Tommy, and finding some guidance from a kind-hearted man named Bob whom she met in the park she lived in for close to a month, Wren took her identity into her own hands. She loved to sing, but since her parents wouldn’t let her do it on her terms, she quit choir and only sang in the comfort of her car or shower. She dropped the good-girl persona of pastel, feminine clothing that her parents insisted she wore because, “respectable women don’t wear black leather,” and spent a solid ninety-five percent of her time with Tommy. He was her best friend, but her was also her oasis; he was peace, comfort, warmth, and protection, and she was about to let him down.

I’m not that person anymore,” she defiantly said to herself as she rose from the floor, grabbed her keys from the counter top, and rushed out the door.

During the first few nights at their new place, Wren was hesitant about living on the Strip—loud drunk people wandering through the neighborhood wasn’t exactly an appealing quality—but as she jogged the block’s distance from their apartment to the Whiskey, Wren was counting her lucky stars and praying she wouldn’t miss seeing them on stage. With the cold, evening air of the desert in her lungs, Wren’s legs carried her stride toward the bouncer who looked at her up and down before folding his arms over his chest.

“Are you looking to get in or are you out for a run?” the man questioned as he jutted his chin out in order to appear more authoritative over the much smaller young woman. Wren hadn’t even assessed her wardrobe during the moments she decided to pick herself up and not fuck up her future, and so she appeared at the club in tennis shoes, black jogging shorts, and a tattered, old AC/DC t-shirt.

“I’m with the band,” Wren stated in her best matter-of-fact tone despite being slightly out of breath from sprinting down the street.

“You and half the other underage chicks who try to slip in,” the man grunted with a scoff rising from his stomach only to be returned with Wren’s narrowed eyes and pursed lips.

“Do you want me to buy a ticket?” Wren’s snarky tone slapped the man in the face as he looked down his nose at her.

“All sold out,” he responded in a curt, unapologetic tone.

“My best friend is about to get on stage and you can be damned sure I’m not about to miss it!” Although I’m a piece of shit because I did almost miss it, she quickly thought to herself. “Is there a list or something that I need to be on?” Upon hearing her question, the bouncer’s eyebrows furrowed as he recalled one of the stage managers giving him a name—shit, what was it? Dan Lemmon? Ben Lennon? “My name is Wren Ledden. I’m sure Tommy mentioned to someone I was coming. Nikki Sixx works here; he’s playing tonight. I’m the closest thing that group of misfits have to a manager. You have to let me in!”

“Ledden does ring a bell,” the man said as he lowered his arms and stepped aside. “You can come in, but I have an eye on you. I have a friend down the strip who’s told me about you; you shouldn’t be sneaking into clubs. It’s gonna catch up to you one day.”

“If Mötley makes it as big as I think they will, I won’t have to sneak anywhere ever again,” Wren said with a smirk as she jogged past the entrance and into the Whiskey just in time to see Vince jog up onto the stage and introduce the band as his nerves fluttered around within him. Silence engulfed the room as the crowd stared at the collection of boys and men on stage. Wren hurried to make her way toward the front and hopefully ease her way backstage to support her friends, however her heart sunk to her knees at what happened next. Tommy’s cymbal rolls at Vince’s introduction ended with a smash, but not on the crash cymbal. Instead, out of nervous panic, he kicked the cymbal stand over and earned a humiliating fit of laughter from the audience.

Wren contemplated jumping onto the stage to help him reset his drums, but Tommy had already lunged around the trap set while shouting expletives. She scanned the stage, hoping to lock eyes with any member of the band; however, all she managed to capture was the uneasiness each member carried. Vince had been a hype man and eye candy for his last band, but this was a different crowd. There were women present, but definitely not to the degree he was used to, and Wren could see him weighing that fact in his mind. Mick seemed cool and collected, but something about his demeanor seemed slightly forced. Tommy was nearly shaking from the amount of adrenaline coursing through his body, and Nikki wore a face full of his signature austere, ‘what the fuck are you looking at?’ grimace that Wren determined was a major part of his protective shell.

Almost as soon as Tommy knocked over his cymbal, the crowd began to transform from the quiet, uninterested patrons Wren had walked in on, into heartless, taunting, and jeering asses. Comments along the lines of “You suck,” and “Get off the stage!” began to slip from the crowd and, with each passing remark, Wren could feel her lips tighten across her face and her fingers curl tighter into a fist.

Vince tried his best to ignore the comments and attempted to hype the band up as they began ‘Take Me To The Top’, but as he began to dance, his movements were jerky and his face seemed pale. Again, the crowd’s pre-formulated opinions about the band based upon Tommy’s accident at the beginning and the band’s attire kept the audience from experiencing all that Mötley Crüe had to offer. The band started heavy and hard, and it genuinely seemed like they were taking their nerves out on their instruments in the most beneficial way they could, but that didn’t stop a few men in the crowd from attempting to rile up the band.

As Vince waited for his cue to come in, one burly, barrel chested, bearded man called out, “Who’s the chick singer?” which earned a large laugh from the people around him.

“Hey, fuck you asshole!” Vince called back from the stage, but the man could hear Wren—having been much closer to the antagonist than Vince—loud as day from over his shoulder.

“Why don’t you fuck off or get the fuck out?!” she shouted over Mick, Tommy, and Nikki’s playing. The six foot, two-hundred fifty plus pound man turned to reveal a five foot seven, nineteen-year-old girl of just over one-hundred thirty-five pounds, and again the crowd laughed, only this time they were laughing at Wren. The man disregarded Wren with a roll of his eyes and then used both of his hands to give Vince the bird before he spat on what appeared to be brand new, white leather pants. Wren could see the fire forming in Vince’s eyes and quickly remembered what she told them, some dick in the first row with an attitude can’t be the person who makes or breaks this.

Without even giving Vince the opportunity to process what had happened, Wren stepped in front of the man, positioning herself between Vince and the proclaimed dick in the first row with an attitude, and spat back, making sure to hit him where his wife-beater exposed his chest in hopes that it would smear into his beard.

“You bitch!” the man screamed as he lunged toward Wren with fury in his eyes and his arms reaching for her hands. Quickly, Vince grabbed her by the shirt and pulled her backwards while simultaneously jumping off the stage and throwing a punch to her attacker’s jaw. The man seemed to absorb the impact before he quickly threw a jab into Vince’s teeth that sent the blonde flying backwards and landing just short of the stage, beside Wren.

“Thanks,” she huffed as she stared at the blood that fell from Vince’s busted lip.

“Don’t mention it,” Vince responded as he spat the blood trailing from his mouth onto the floor before shoving Wren closer to the ground upon catching a blurred glimpse of white and red.

Wren looked over Vince’s shoulder to see Nikki swinging his bass violently over his shoulder until it connected with the side of the burly man’s head. Before anyone knew it, Vince and Nikki were throwing punches with a few of the asshole’s friends, Tommy had launched himself from the stage to take down a couple of people who had gone after Nikki, and even Mick had delivered a hard hitting blow to someone trying to charge him as he helped Wren up onto the stage. Wren and Mick watched as the crowd folded away from the fight and bouncers began to gain control over the men who Nikki and Vince were fending off. As the singer and bassist stood off stage, in front of everyone while their drummer straddled and pummeled the guy who had initiated the brawl, they scanned the crowd, searching for a sign of whether or not they’d fucked up their shot of making it on the Strip. Once he’d had enough of the horrified faces meeting his, Nikki re-scanned the crowd in search of Wren. He knew she could get herself into trouble, and it was obvious Tommy was otherwise busy beating up the man who went after her for defending Vince. After last night, he understood her hesitancy towards strangers, her aversion to open spaces, and her displeasure of being touched despite her not saying a word after jabbing her finger into his chest.

Noticing Nikki’s concern, Mick nudged Nikki in the back with his shoe and jutted his head toward where Wren stood behind the curtains off the side of the stage. Bouncers had succeeded in restraining Tommy, throwing him to Vince and Nikki to control, and then tossing the trouble makers outside, but the club lingered in a heavy silence. It felt as if the world had taken in a deep breath and was holding it while everyone else waited for the exhale to breathe again.

“Fuck yeah!” a guy in blue jeans and a red and while baseball t-shirt holding a cigarette screamed. “Mötley Crüe!” Slowly, people began to join in on the whoops and cheers; slowly, the boys realized they hadn’t blown it. Tommy punched Vince’s shoulder before he leapt back on stage and held up his hand to Wren for a crisp high-five which then turned into a bro-hug.

“I’m still pissed at you,” he said through a smile, unable to hide his excitement.

“Just get out there and fuck the audience in the face,” she responded as she rolled her eyes at her best friend as she mimicked the tone he used to justify his suggested band name many nights ago, and then faded back behind the curtain.

Following Tommy’s lead, Nikki and Vince also made their way back to their place on stage, one slinging his guitar strap over his shoulder and the other gripping onto the microphone. As Tommy entered strong on his snare, Nikki and Vince’s eyes met; excitement, adrenaline, and power seemed to electrify the band and with one fluid movement, the pair clasped hands in solidarity. It was the first time those two had ever shared any sort of moment other than light animosity toward one another due to, at first, Vince’s intimidation of Wren, then Lovey’s persistently bad attitude. As soon as their hands left one another’s grasp, the band dove into ‘Take Me To The Top’, and the crowd roared into a rejuvenated life powered entirely by Tommy, Mick, Nikki, and Vince.

Wren was not only impressed by the passion of the crowd, but by their stamina too. Nikki had prepared an eleven song set for tonight, and although parts of the crowd did seem a bit tired after some of the songs, Nikki did a great job of spacing out the slower songs throughout the set. Some of Wren’s favorites made the cut for tonight including ‘On With the Show,’ ‘Piece of Your Action’, and ‘Merry Go Round,’ but the band’s closing song was the one she was waiting for.

“Alright you guys,” Vince called out into the microphone, “We’ve got one more song for you tonight! If you like us and want to hear the same shit for the next two nights, come back and see us tomorrow night and the night after! This last song is a fun one. It kicked my ass for a bit at first, but thanks to one of our own, a miss Wren Ledden, I think we can rock it out for you tonight!” Vince’s interaction with the microphone was so smooth and effortless, as if the mic and its stand were extensions of Vince’s body, and it wasn’t until he turned his back to the audience and waved his hands to get Wren’s attention that she even noticed she’d been gazing out into the crowd, watching how he held the audience captive.

Vince subtly jutted his head toward Wren, but it wasn’t until Tommy pointed at her with his sticks and then made a line from her to the front of the stage that Wren understood what Vince was trying to get her to do. Mick offered her his hand as she climbed up a small step or two, Tommy smiled at his friend—happy in their attempted way to prove to her she was as included in the band as the rest of them—and Nikki nodded at her in admiration as she paced towards Vince. “Before we close out, why don’t you give it up for Wren! Mötley Crüe’s very own Live Wire!” Vince screamed into the mic, the crowd roared with anticipation of the song and blindly celebrated whatever Vince had said, and Mick and Nikki dove head first, full force into what had to have been their heaviest performances of ‘Live Wire’ to date.

Wren hesitated as she stood awkwardly on stage in her workout clothes surrounded by thigh-high leather boot wearing boys with heels high enough to allow Vince and Mick illusion of being taller than her. With a small wave, she tried to take a step back and fade behind the curtain, but Vince reached out for her hand, missed his entrance to the song, and called into the mic, “I think for the right incentive, Wren may share the stage!” Her eyes widened and her stomach fell to the ground as she listened not only to Vince’s words echoing through the club, but also to the wave of screams the cheered.

What were they cheering for? Mötley Crüe…it had to be because of the hype and hard-driving song. Another measure passed and the crowd grew louder. Surely they’re not cheering for me, she thought as her eyes turned to seek the guidance of the rest of the band. Tommy was giddy with glee, Mick was reassuring as he gave a curt nod in her direction, Vince was pumping his fist in the air to get the crowd to cheer louder, and Nikki’s voice left his body in a shout, yet traveled through the air and into Wren’s ears like a whisper over the now doubly long musical intro. “You’ve got this!” With the band’s encouragement, Wren held up her hands in defeat and Vince jumped into the song at the next measure.

She wasn’t the band’s singer, she wasn’t anyone’s girlfriend, she wasn’t a groupie, she was Wren fucking Ledden and she was a part of Mötley Crüe. The power of the band, the thrill of the audience, the electricity coursing through her veins was something she knew she would never get used to, which is why she would never do this again, but for tonight—for Mötley’s first show—it was perfect.

Continued Reading: Next Chapter

38 notes · View notes