#motley true fan fic

[lady-adaneth]

Romantic Inclination

To whoever finds this, hello friend! I’m super excited to be sharing my first ever fan fic with you! What an incredible thing that we’ve found each other on this vast platform. I’m looking to improve my writing, so if you have a moment I’d be very grateful if you shared any criticisms or requests. I hope that this little one-shot brings some tranquility to your day!

Synopsis:

You and your betrothed sneak away from the wedding festivities for a romantic moment alone.

Legolas x gender-neutral elf!reader

No use of y/n

One-Shot (but if you’d like more don’t hesitate to send a request)

Meleth Nin = My Love

Content Warnings:

Spice scale: Mild kinda smoky salsa

Physical/romantic touch

Word Count:

500+ words

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧‧₊˚ ✩°｡

The forests of Mirkwood were fabled for the ghastly creatures that lurked beneath its thick canopy. The treacherous floor remaining untouched by the glow of stars nor the suns kiss; the darkness teeming with monstrous spiders and unforgiving elves…

The centuries old fable had kept your elfling self from wandering at night, much to your father’s relief. If only he could see you now, dancing amongst the Mirkwood elves in their sacred forest; marrying a Mirkwood elf under thousands of glimmering stars.

Your steps faltered as your mind wandered to your betrothed; and your dance partner took notice. Gimli and you had fought side-by-side against Sauron and his hoard. Combat was a dance in itself, and Gimli’s ax was a perfect complement to your blades. So it’s no surprise that he was privy to what troubled you.

“You’ve suddenly got lousy footwork for an elf, what’s on your mind lassie?” A smile graced Gimli’s face, however his eyes betrayed true concern. Your mind had been wandering to Legolas ever since the ceremony. Tradition mandated that both of you greet and dance with as many guests as possible, reuniting hours later for a final dance. However, as much as you enjoyed the company of others you couldn’t help but scan the motley crowd for his circlet-adorned hair.

“Well,” you began, eyes still searching.

“I have so many more guests to thank…” Gimli cut you off in an explosion of laughter.

“Screw tradition, I’ll keep these unruly guests in check. You go find that damned elf, wherever he may be,” before you could muster a retort, Gimli twirled you in a surprisingly artful spin, abruptly letting go of your hand and launching you into the open. You opened your eyes, searching for any sign of your beloved dwarf friend amongst the crowd, to no avail. Rolling your eyes, you took stock of your immediate surroundings. To the left, the merriment continued; with Pippin and Gandalf leading a rather humorous waltz that had everyone hollering. To the right, you found yourself flanked by the seemingly endless Mirkwood forest.

Suddenly, a set of encompassing arms wound their way around your waist.

“Meleth Nin,”

The whispers warm air lingered by your ear, a firm chest pressed up against your back. Despite his choice of words, you could recognize his intoxicating scent of fir and amber anywhere.

“And who might you be?” You say coyly. “Are you my savior, prince?” Legolas chuckled, his voice inches from your ear.

“I’m here to rescue you from the endless dancing and idle chatter, my princess,” you spun to face him, a mischievous smile on his saintly face. Heavens, that face. You could feel his heart rate accelerate with your own as your hand found his jawline. His arms still encompassed your body. You felt yourself melting as he gently leaned down to meet your lips. The rhythm of the kiss was gentle-familiar, and you melted farther into his touch. His arms tightened around your figure as the kiss deepened. His teeth gently grazed your lip, sending a chill down your spine. You pushed farther into his chest in an almost primal effort to meld into one. Your heart rates grew louder, your shared breath drowning out any sound. His right hand ascended to rest in your hair, carefully grasping the roots. Suddenly, you pulled away, gasping for air as the sounds of merriment returned to you. His eyes found yours, a combination of adoration and worry; searching yours for any sign of injury.

“What are your thoughts…” your forehead found his as he held you tightly. “On taking our leave from the festivities, only for a moment of course?” His reverence shone brightly in his eyes.

“I’d be honored to steal you away for the night, Meleth Nin,” he smirked, pulling you hand-in-hand through the glistening forest of Mirkwood…

—————

Thank you for reading! If you have any criticisms or would like a part 2 please let me know!

[getthefckouttahere]

Two Hearts Fixed, One’s Still Broken

prompt/thank you to @lifesasickjoke​: nikki cheats on the reader (his fiancée) with tommy’s fiancée, tommy and the reader fall in love and get married. nikki is super upset and that’s why he did the whole drug thing at the wedding pairing: tommy x reader (with a nikki x reader history) A/N: hey this is my first fic for the dirt/mötley crüe so yeah i hope y’all like it and yeah, i guess reader replaces heather here. warnings: mentions of cheating, swearing, mentions of drugs, angst and fluff

“Hey Y/N, d’ya know where Nikki is? I want him to meet Roxie and my parents.” Tommy asked her, giddy like a child on Christmas.

Man, he looked so happy and so excited to get married, she just wished that Nikki would show the same enthusiasm toward her.

Sure, it wasn’t all his fault, seeing as the only other woman in his life had been nothing but a bitch to him. She understood that he couldn’t trust anyone, because the two people that he was supposed to love had let him down, but it still made her sad that he always spoke to she so coldly.

The day he asked her to marry him was both the happiest day of her life and the most relieved she had ever felt in the course of her relationship. She found out that he really did love her, it was just difficult for him to show that strong of an emotion. Because he didn’t know how to.

“He’s probably still in his dressing room getting ready. Follow me.” she replied, walking down the hallway with him following suit.

“You ready for the wedding?” she asked him, grinning when a little squeal emitted from him.

“I’m so pumped! I really like her, dude, and I’m totally ready to spend the rest of my life with her. Maybe even see some little Tommy’s running around the house, y’know?” he snickered.

Tommy really was ecstatic, but what made her feel bad was that his fiancee, Roxie, wasn’t all that interested in him. She had met her before…she really wasn’t that great. Pretty, but that’s where the good qualities end. It just seemed like she wanted to marry him because he was famous and he could buy her things.

It hurt to see her friend so blinded by love, that he can’t see how much he’s being manipulated and taken advantage of.

“Eww, that’s gross! I don’t wanna think about that!” she said, giving him a playful shove on the shoulder.

“What, it’s a perfectly normal part of life! Don’t you have the same thoughts with Nikki?”

“Well, yeah. But honestly if it were to happen, it’d probably be by accident. That man doesn’t make love, he fucks.”

“Fuck that’s disgusting, Y/N!” he laughed.

“Payback, asshole.” she giggled, deciding that her goal was now to make him as uncomfortable as she can.

“I’m serious, man. The noises he makes are basically inhumane-”

“You mean like the ones that are coming from his room right now?”

They were standing outside Nikki’s dressing room door and she only payed attention to what Tommy said right when he mentioned it.

And he was right, those were normally the sounds she’d bring out of him on a regular night.

But now, it was some other girl doing the job for her.

And it wasn’t just some other girl.

“Hey, those female sounds seem familiar too.” Tommy commented, his voice turning softer. She assumed that he had put two and two together.

He knocked on Nikki’s dressing room door and deepened his voice to make himself unrecogniseable.

“Yo Nik, you ready? Tommy wants you.”

They heard the shuffling of feet and what she supposed was them clambering to find their clothes, accompanied by muffled curses.

The door sprang open and confirmed all of their suspicions.

“Shit.” Roxie breathed out, freezing when her eyes met her fiancé’s.

His whole face had gone pale, his bottom lip was trembling. And she could’ve sworn that she could see tears glistening in his bright, blue eyes that were normally so full of joy.

Which was also the moment where she realised she weren’t even hurting for herself, but for him.

“Babe-” Roxie started to explain herself.

“Don’t.” his voice croaked as he turned and ran away.

“I hope you fuckers are happy.” Y/N spat in her face, shooting Nikki, who was stood behind her, a dirty look.

Maintaining the eye contact with him, she slid the engagement ring off of her finger and threw it at him before she ran off after Tommy.

“Tommy! Wait!”

He froze and turned around, tears were starting to fall down her cheeks when she noticed his own tear stained face. It broke her heart, because this was her fault. All of this could’ve been avoided if she’d just told him how bad Roxie was and she was bound to break his heart one way or another.

But she didn’t. She stayed quiet. And now, she was witnessing her best friend’s heart shattering before her.

“Y/N...shouldn’t you be yelling at Nikki?” he said between sniffles.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He couldn’t reply, he just smiled sadly at her while his sobs grew bigger. She ran towards him, wrapping her arms around his torso and buried her head in his chest. He was way too tall for this to be any sort of comfort to him, like he only wanted to comfort her.

But the reminder that the man she loved didn’t love her back made her weak, her knees buckled under her and he fell down with her.

It all felt like an out of place movie scene, the way that her tears slid down the leathery fabric on his shoulder, arms clinging to him while his own hands tightened their embrace.

The way Nikki had given her hugs in the past was nothing compared to how Tommy was holding her. She felt safe, warm and, dare she say it, she actually felt like she was needed. Loved.

She picked her head up from his shoulder to greet his eyes again, tending to the small strands of his black hair that had stuck onto his face. He gave her a toothless smile as a thank you. After all, the last time he ever got a hug that reassuring was from his mom.

Things were tense between the band and Y/N from then on. She had moved out of Nikki’s place in an instant, Tommy by her side helping her as she stuffed all of her belongings into a suitcase.

Tommy himself kicked Roxie out as soon as he could, not even giving her a chance to explain herself.

He cried himself to sleep that night - and every night onwards. He had never had a relationship that ended as messy as this one did, he had never loved a girl as much as he loved Roxie.

The pain got to him, so much that he had to isolate himself from the band for a while, as he couldn’t even manage to look at Nikki without having the urge to punch him.

Not because he stole his girl.

Because he broke Y/N’s heart.

The pair found themselves growing closer together. Tommy would frequently invite her over and they’d spend the day sprawled across his sofa, a platonic tangle of limbs, watching whatever distraction was on TV at the time. But she would never spend the night there.

Until one day where she left her coat at his place and only realised it when she got home. She excused herself out of the apartment she shared with her friend again and drove back to his house, entering his unlocked house, at this point she had her own set of keys, surprised to be greeted by sniffles.

Y/N knew that a week isn’t enough to get over something like this, but she was always under the impression that he was getting better. She immediately ran into his room, where she saw him curled into a ball, rocking back and forth. She took her place next to him.

“Hey, Tom.” she cooed, placing a hand on his shoulder that was shaking as a result of his continuous sobs and tears.

They subconsciously slowed down at the sound of her voice, because he was so used to being soothed by her gentleness, even when they talked about something random like the best flavour of Twizzlers.

Being around Y/N was like a soft, warm blanket, shielding him from the horrors of the world. She, herself, was his safe space.

She helped him sit up and he immediately wrapped his arms around her.

“She fucked me up, man.”

“I know.”

“I’m never gonna find anyone like her.”

That formed a pit in her chest.

Sure, she knew she was just a shoulder to cry on and the only one that offered to comfort him, but she couldn’t help wanting more. It was wrong of her to even think about it.

“No, you’ll find someone better.”

He pulled out of the hug, their faces no more than mere inches away from each other, while Y/N thumbed away the river of tears that had flowed down his face.

“I think I already have.”

She could feel his eyes switch between hers and her lips as he licked his own. He leant toward her, entwining his soft, pink lips with hers and the taste of salt had never been sweeter.

Maybe it was because their fond for each other had grown deeper, or maybe it was because they were both needy and desperate for someone to care for them again, but the kiss just felt right. 

Like it was meant to be.

At least, that’s what she told him during their wedding vows. And the two of them laughed her asses off at the fact that her vows were almost identical. He too mentioned that the kiss felt like something that the angels above controlled.

And it would’ve been the happiest day of Tommy’s life, if it wasn’t for Nikki deciding to act like a dick throughout. He regretted asking him to be the best man, but no matter what they’d all gone through, he was still a brother to him.

“She’s really gonna marry me, huh?” Tommy had asked the band when he walked into the lobby, straightening his tie. Vince was sat in a big armchair, spinning around as a result of his boredom, while Mick stared into space, fighting the urge to murder his friend every time he could hear the chair squeak.

“This isn’t some kind of a sick joke, is it?”

“Life’s a sick joke.” Mick chimed in, being the life of the party he normally was.

“Hey, what time is it? I think we should get out there. Hey Nikki, let’s hit it.” he said, looking at him. He was quite clearly doped up again, practically unconscious across the couch. That wasn’t what he meant by ‘hit it’.

“Yo, best man, let’s go! I got a wife waiting.”

Still no response.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tommy muttered, walking over to him.

“Nikki! Wake up, asshole!” he continued, slapping him awake.

“Fuck, dude.” Nikki grumbled as he sat up.

For a split second, he thought that the world he frequently hallucinated every time the heroin entered his bloodstream was real, that this was all for him and the boys were getting ready for his special day with Y/N.

But then he saw the rings placed neatly on the pillow next to him, the rings that weren’t in any way shape or form like the ones he had proposed to her with (he hated to admit it, but they were much better. Tommy had really outdone himself), the reality of what was actually happening hurt him more than Tommy’s slaps.

It got to a point where he was practically stabbing needles, careless whether it drew blood or not. He just wanted to use the heroin as a replacement for what (or who) was once the best part of his shitty life.

His primary sources of happiness were mostly reliant on Y/N and the band, so what else could he have turned to when he drove her away and broke the band with it?

He found his hand flying toward the necklace he never took off, the one Y/N bought for him on their one year anniversary - just a month before he proposed. His fingers toyed with the engagement ring threaded in the necklace, the one he wanted her to wear today. He had been wearing that ring around his neck since the day he broke her heart - and his along with it.

“I’m good.”

No, you’re not. Your best friend is getting married to the love of your life.

“It’s all good, man.”

No, it isn’t. That’s your wife. This was supposed to be your day, but you just had to fuck that up.

“It’s most definitely not ‘all good’, man, but whatever. Just clean up-” Tommy started to spit back, growing sicker of his sarcasm the more time he wasted.

He was interrupted by the sound of Nikki getting up, knocking over the contents on the table in front of him when he leant on it for support.

“Hey!” he yelled, grabbing Nikki aggressively by the shoulders, glaring at him with narrowed eyes.

“Get your shit together. I don’t want Y/N to be embarrassed, okay?”

“I’m embarrassing? Cool.” Nikki scoffed. He pushed himself out of Tommy’s painful hold.

“Let’s go marry your fancy ass hand-me-down in this fancy ass hotel-”

“Hey, at least I know how to love the woman.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up. Neither of you even know how to respect a woman, not to mention love one. Nikki just set the standards really low so she fell instantly for Tommy.” Mick rolled his eyes, getting up with some struggle.

“I can be the best man instead if you want, Drummer.” he continued, losing the same amount of hope as Tommy did for Nikki.

“Nah, ‘s cool. I got the rings already. Let’s just get this over with.” Nikki sighed, making a start out of the hotel lobby, not looking back to see if Tommy or anyone else was following.

The time finally came when the boys had taken their spots in a semi circle around the vicar and Tommy, waiting for the heart and soul of the ceremony herself to walk down the white-carpeted aisle.

And what a truly magnificent sight she was, her hair and makeup done to the 9s and her dress…

Fuck, Nikki thought, his hand gripping tighter around the ring on his necklace.

Her dress was the exact same one Nikki had confirmed would be the best one for her.

He felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs and when he looked over to Tommy, he saw that he had the same expression.

That’s when he realised how much this meant for his best friend. He couldn’t ruin this day for him.

He found himself growing more nauseous as she walked toward the front of the church and a huge grin on her face.

The same grin he saw when he proposed. Or when he made cookies that were perfectly crunchy, but also chewy, fit for her liking.

“And do you, Thomas Lee Bass...”

Nikki could barely hear what was happening over the voice that echoed through his head.

You deserve this.

“...take Y/N Y/L/N to be your lawfully wedded wife

You deserve to be hurt,

“…to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.”

sad,

“To love and to cherish…”

and jealous.

“from this day forward, until death do you part?"

You brought this on yourself.

“I do.”

“I do.” Nikki found himself whispering.

“Yo Nik, the rings.” Tommy whispered. When he didn’t reply, he looked behind him to see that the veins on Nikki’s hand were about to burst, his cheeks the colour of tomatoes.

“Nikki!” he said a little louder this time.

“What?” he jumped, blinking away the tears that started to burn up in his eyes.

“The rings.”

“Oh. Right.” he replied, giving the pillow to the officiant and stepping back, not meeting anyones eyes.

"And now, by the power vested in me by, I hereby pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."

Their family and friends all cheered and applauded the happy new couple, giving Nikki the perfect opportunity to slip out unnoticed. He felt as if he would throw up if he spent one more second seeing Tommy in the spot where he should be.

Admittedly, he was happy that Tommy had gotten his moment with a girl that really did deserve it. That she deserved to be loved in a way he couldn’t.

He just had to live with the fact that, if he had gotten his shit together, if he could’ve been a better boyfriend, if he just had the chance to apologise and show how much he really loved her, this would’ve been his moment instead.

-

let me know what you thought :P

tags (for the dirt fics), ask to be added or removed @thathappylandfill @merlehs

[valentines-in-london]

I Need Fire (Part 21)

Authors Note:  Alright I’m back!  I feel like it’s been an age since I talked to any of you!  I hope you’re all doing well and that you like this chapter.  We’ve got some BIG events coming up in the next few chapters so I’m excited to hear your feedback<3

Word Count: 3,486

Warnings:  In this chapter none really, talk about drugs

Taglist:   @freddiessmallnipples @triplehaitches @samanthadegaro @lauravic @oh-well1 @la-sorciere-fleur @anxious-diabetic @xdeath-soulx @fanofnightz @songbirdkisses​ If you’d like to be added please let me know!

 Previous Chapter  //  Master List  //  Next Chapter

Chapter 21

Rayne took her keys to the office out of her purse and inserted them into the lock of Poison Ivy.  It was just before 8AM so needless to say she was shocked to hear opera music coming from Stanley’s work office.  Rayne dropped her bags on her desk and made her way back to where the music came from.  She leaned against the door frame watching as he stood in front of a mannequin with a beautiful suede and leather suit.  She gently knocked on the wooden frame, “Knock knock boss man.”

Turning toward her voice Stanley turned and gasped, “The bronzed goddess returns.  Bella, you look stunning.”

“Thank you.  That Italian blood in me makes it easy to tan.”  Rayne chuckled holding her arms out at her side.  “Why are you here so early?”

“The show is coming up, this is the last piece.  I wanted to get this finished so we can have fittings with our girls.  This is the most time I’ve ever had to make final adjustments leading up to a show.  Granted the last shows I did I was hopped up on coke and ludes and all sorts of non-sense. But that was in my youth.”

“Is it wrong that I think it would be fun to meet that Stanley?” Rayne smiled crossing her arms over her chest, causing her engagement ring to catch in the morning sun.

“I mean you are used to rock stars and I could have put them to shame.”  Stanley winked before his eyes to shot down to the sparkling ring on her slim fingers.  “Oh my god, is this what I think it is Bella?”

Rayne nodded her head, “It is, Tommy proposed to me over the holiday break, and I said yes.”

“Congratulations my darling.”  Stanley hugged Rayne rocking her back and forth.  “You do realize what this means right?”

“What does it mean?”

“I have a wedding dress to design.”  Stanley smiled wide.

“What?  No!  Stanley I can’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking me.  I’m offering.  And you will be the most radiant bride there ever was.  I’ll make sure of that.”  Stanley said with such love.  He felt like a father figure to Rayne and she couldn’t quite put into words how much she valued that aspect of her and Stanley’s relationship.

“I don’t know what to say Stanley.”  Rayne shrugged her shoulders.  “Thank you so much.  Now let’s stop being sappy, we have a busy day ahead of us.”

“You know bella, you are going to have to get used to being the center of attention.  Every bride deserves all eyes on her, and so does the lead model in my show.” Stanley called Rayne on her insecurities immediately and she knew he was right.  But she’d cross that bridge when the time came, right now she had work to do.

After an eventful day at work filled with fittings and meetings Rayne headed home, but there was one place she had to stop off at before she got there.  Rayne walked up the stone stairs and gently knocked on the door. A very disheveled looking Vince answered the door.

"Hey Vinny."  Rayne smiled going in for a hug.  Reluctantly Vince hugged her back.

"What are you doing here?"  Vince asked softly.

"I haven't been over since everything happened, and the holidays were so crazy I didn't want more time to go by."  Rayne said still embracing him.  "Is this a bad time?"

"No not at all.  We just haven't had many visitors lately.  Come in."

"I'm sorry, I should've come by sooner." She said somberly entering Vince and Jo’s home.  She did truly feel bad that with the chaos of the holiday season that she hadn't been over to see Vince or Jo.  She hoped they knew that she was not avoiding them.

"You don't have to apologize Legs."  Vince patted her on the shoulder as they walked into the living room where Jo laid curled up on a plush white couch watching tv.

"Ray??"  She shot up from the cushions rushing over to her best friend hugging her tightly.  "Oh I missed you!"

"I'm sorry I haven't come by and I'm sorry to just drop in.  But I wanted to see you guys." The three sat down in the living room.  Rayne slipped her heels off and pulled her legs up underneath her. "This might be a stupid question but how are you guys doing?"

Vince looked like an absolute wreck, so if she was judging the book by its cover she would say he was doing the worst.  But she also knew that Jo was good at hiding her struggles. Rayne watched as Jo placed a hand on Vince's thigh. "I think we're hanging in there right?"

"All things considered yeah we're hanging in."  Vince nodded his head.  "I'm glad I have you here with me babe, otherwise I don't know that I would be."

Rayne smiled at the tender moment between the couple.  She usually did not see that side of Vince and Jo's relationship.  "Nowhere else I'd rather be baby."

"So, you're obviously without a certain drummer."  Vince said not to subtly.

"Yeah.  I tried to get him to come with me.  I just, I don't think he knows what to say.  He thinks Vince doesn't need to be babied and that's what he thinks he'll be doing if he came to check on you.  We actually got into a bit of an argument about it."  Rayne shrugged her shoulders. She watched as Vince hung his head nodding slightly. "Have you heard from any of the guys?"

"Not a word.  The only reason I know I still have a band is through phone calls with Doc."  Vince spat out. She could feel how much that stung him.  Motley Crue had always been a gang of brothers until things got tough for Vince and now that mentality seemed to be gone.

Rayne was about to respond but the phone rang stopping her from speaking.  Vince stood up, "Speak of the devil, that should be Doc."

Vince left the room and Rayne turned to Jo.  "Are you sure you're okay?"

Jo nodded, "it's tough. But it's tougher on Vinny than it is on me. I hurt for him because I know he's hurting."

Rayne immediately understood what Jo meant, she had been there herself many times, damn empathy!

"I think what bothers him most isn't the stuff the media says, or what MTV says, or the court ordered things he has to do.  It's that no one in the band have said a word to him. He's completely alone apart from me."  Jo continued.

"I'm sorry Jo.  I really tried to get Tommy here but he's being stubborn."  Rayne sighed.

"Do you think he's pissed about the miscarriage?"  Jo questioned.

"I don't think so, I mean he's not pissed at me for it. Why would he be pissed at Vince?"  Rayne ran her fingers through her curls.

Jo sighed, shaking her hair.  "I don't know. At least tomorrow he goes back into the studio. Maybe that'll help mend things."

"I'm here for anything you guys ever need.  You know that right Jo?"  Rayne watched as her best friend silently shook her head before taking a deep breath composing herself.

"I know Ray.  And I appreciate that more than you know."  Jo smiled hugging her friend.  "How are things with you and Tommy?  You said you got into an argument?  Didn't you just get back from Cabo?"

"Yeah we did.  I don't wanna get into it, you've got enough going on without having to listen to my bullshit."  Rayne brushed Jo's questions off.

"I wouldn't be asking if I didn't want to hear."  Jo smiled.

"Well it kinda all started the night we got there.  I found some stuff in Tommy's bag…"

"Tommy I found some stuff in your bag that I want to talk to you about."  Rayne pulled her legs up toward her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"What's up babe?" Tommy asked sitting down on the lounge chair next to Rayne.

"Tommy last night after you fell asleep I wanted to clean myself up and wash my face.  I was looking around what I thought was my bag for my skin care. I didn't want to wake you up so I didn't turn any lights on.  When I got to the bathroom and turned the lights on I noticed I didn't grab stuff from my bag it was your bag."  Rayne knew she was rambling but she didn't care, there was no easy way to bring up what she had to talk to him about.  "Tommy it was a bottle of white powder and two bottles of nondescript pills. Now apparently I'm naive but not so naive that I don't know what that powder is."  

Tommy stayed silent.

"So after beating myself up for my stupidity since then I figured I'm done beating myself up but I will talk to you about it.  Do you know how much trouble you could've gotten us in if you had been caught with that shit at the airport?"

"Well we didn't get caught did we?"  Tommy said a bit annoyed.

"That's not even the point Tommy. How dependent are you on this shit that you're bringing it on vacation with us?  We were supposed to use this time to relax before things start ramping up again."

"I am relaxing."  Tommy deflected the question.

"How can you relax when you're hopped up on coke Tommy?"  Rayne was starting to get upset.  "I knew you did it when you were with the band, I didn't think you had to do it when you were home with me."

"You knew that I did coke when you met me.  I don't know why you're flipping out."

"Tommy I knew you did coke, but if you're bringing drugs on vacation with us that tells me it's more than recreational use.  Then when I see two bottles of unlabeled pills excuse me if I don't have questions."  Rayne took her sunglasses off to look at him.  "Tommy why are you doing these things when you're with me? Why do you need to self medicate yourself when you're with me?"

"You told me when we first met that you weren't my mother and wouldn't ask me to change."  Tommy defended himself.

Rayne sighed exasperated before replying.  "Tommy I am not your mother. But I think as someone who is planning on being your wife I have the right to be concerned about what you're putting in your body.  Do you know how fucking dangerous it is to do a drug like coke and I assume the pills are downers to bring you down after your high?  You could kill yourself doing that Tommy do you get that?"

"I'm not going to kill myself."  Tommy shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Tommy you're putting drugs into your body, you never know how you're going to react to them!"  Rayne said frantically.  "I don't want to get a phone call one night when you're on the road saying you're coming home in a body bag."

"That's not going to happen."  Was his simple response.  He was driving Rayne crazy, he wasn't listening at all.

"Look Tommy.  I'm doing the one thing that has been the hardest for me to do since you've known me which is communicate.  I'd appreciate it if you would at least listen to my concerns. I could've just sat on this and blown up on you."

"Oh so you're not blowing up on me now?"

"Tommy I am an Italian woman from New Jersey, I may have lived in California for years but that is something you never lose.  If I was blowing up on you, it would be much worse than this."  Rayne threatened only to hear Tommy mumble something under his breath.  "Excuse me? Did you have something to say?"

"Well I can't win so it's pointless."

"Did I say you couldn't win?  I'm having this conversation because I want to hear what you have to say."  Rayne leaned toward him in her lounge chair.

"There's no point in talking about it. I can't stop so there's no point."

"What do you mean you can't stop?"  Rayne asked him.

"I can't stop. I've tried and when I do I get sick."  Tommy sighed pushing his dark locks off of his face.  Rayne thought to the few times she had been with Tommy where he was indeed under the weather, he claimed it was a stomach bug.  "I try to not do it when I'm with you but when we're together for long periods of time I can't not do it. It has nothing to do with you, it has everything to do with me."

Rayne gently placed her hand on Tommy's knee giving him a light squeeze.  She knew she had to tread lightly. "Tommy you know you can get help if you want it."

"There's no point."  Tommy shook his head.  "The record company practically forces krell up our noses.  I do not have the capability to say no."

"I think you can do anything you set your mind to.  And I think you can say no… even if you never say it to me."  Rayne cracked a little joke which resulted in a smile from Tommy.  "Babe I'm just looking out for you, I want to spend my life with you and I think that shit will drastically decrease that time."

"Well I'll definitely go before you anyway."

"Why do you say that?"  Rayne asked tilting her head slightly.

"Because I don't want to be on this planet without you by my side, so I have to go first."  Tommy flashed a lopsided grin.  "So where do we go from here?"

"I think I've made it clear I think you should really ease off using.  But I also think I can't make you do anything you have to do it for yourself."  Rayne comfortingly replied.

Tommy sat with his head hanging low before he looked up and met Rayne's eyes.  "I'll get help. I don't want to be like this. I see what drugs are doing to Nikki."

"If that's truly what you want to do I'll be with you every step of the way."  Rayne leaned forward kissing his cheek.

"You want to start by flushing everything I brought with me?"  Tommy asked almost shyly.  Rayne nodded her head and the two walked hand in hand back to their suite.

"Wow, so he's clean?"  Jo asked Rayne.

"He's working on it.  He can't go into a rehab because the band is just about to start recording so he's in this outpatient type thing.  He's been pretty sick so home is my next stop. I made him some chicken noodle broth last night."  Rayne gave a brief flash of a smile.

"You think it'll stay that way?"

"I know coming off drugs isn't easy. I don't expect him to be perfect but we agreed he wouldn't hide anything from me if he did slip up. That’s what I would have a problem with above all."  Rayne shrugged.  "But I think temptation is going to be all around him all the fucking time. I don't think it'll be easy."

"And we thought dating rockstars would be glamorous."  Jo smiled giving Rayne a gentle shove.

"Correction, you may have thought that.  I never wanted to date a rock star."  Rayne laughed at how Tommy just sort of fell into her lap.  

"Well it's a two way street Ray, I'm here for anything if you need me."

"Thanks babe. I appreciate that. I should probably get going and head home.”  Rayne leaned forward to wrap her best friend up in a hug.  She looked at the video that was playing on the TV and was shocked to see the guy she had met in the bar with Doc the night she went to see Journey.  He was singing in a video and he wore lavender leather pants.  Rayne wanted to say she had met him to Jo, but figured that would result in her telling the whole story and right now she wanted to go home to her man.

"Alright I'll see you later.  When is your show by the way?"  Jo stood up walking Rayne to the door.

"A few weeks, why?"

"Well because I want to be there to support you, silly." Jo rolled her eyes playfully.  "You're looking great by the way but stop losing weight!"

"I'm not losing weight I've just been taking my classes more seriously. I'm losing fat and putting on muscle apparently.  Whatever the hell that means."  Rayne shook her head. "Trust me I'm still eating plenty, I had so many tacos while we were in Mexico."

"I'll see you later babe."

"Tell Vince I said bye."  Rayne called out over her shoulder to Jo before hopping in her car and heading home.

Not too long after Rayne opened the front door to her home placing her keys on the ring by the front of the door.  She took a deep breath and could smell some delicious cooking emanating from the kitchen. "Tommy?"

"In here babe."  She heard his voice and made her way toward the kitchen.  When she walked in she leaned against the island in the middle of the room.  "I was hoping everything would be done by the time you get home but it's almost there."

"What are you making?"  Rayne asked walking toward him giving him a light kiss on the cheek.  He definitely seemed a lot better today, not too sick.

"My world famous gyros."  Tommy smiled wide gesturing toward a bunch of various toppings that were lined up on the counter.  “What do you know about Greek food.”

"World famous huh?  How come I've never had them before?"  Rayne teased looking out at all the delicious food.

"Cooking has been taking my mind off other things."  Tommy spoke honestly.  "And I wanted to treat my girl to a good dinner."

"First Jo tells me to plump up and now you are trying too."  She winked.  "But I can't wait it looks delicious."

A timer dinged and Tommy moved to the oven and pulled out some delicious looking meat.  "You're going to have to show me how to put one of these together. I've never had one before."

"You've never had a gyro before?  Oh baby wait to have your mind blown."  Tommy smiled as he began cutting the meat.

He wasn't lying either, Rayne couldn't believe she had never eaten a gyro before it was absolutely delicious.  Who would've thought the crazy rock n roll drummer was also a stellar cook.  

The two of them cleaned up and ended their night curled up under the covers of their bed with the fireplace roaring in their room.  Rayne traced mindless patterns across Tommy's chest.  "Are you excited to get back into the studio tomorrow?"

"I'm nervous as fuck."  Tommy honestly responded.

"Just take everything as it comes, don't get in your head and start beating yourself up."  Rayne said softly.

"I haven't even talked to any of the guys since we got off tour."  Tommy sighed.

"Well I told you to come see Vince with me but no, you didn't want to."  She playfully mocked.

"I know, I'm an ass.  How was Vinny?"

"He's been better Tommy."  Rayne replied honestly.  "So cut him some slack tomorrow okay?  I think he would have really liked to see you today."

She felt Tommy nod his head and it made Rayne smile.  She knew it wouldn't be easy but maybe Tommy and Vince could lean on each other.  But Rayne also knew that was easier said than done. Stretching her body and letting out a yawn she let her eyes flutter closed and drifted off to sleep.

Tommy however remained awake, his arm wrapped around Rayne gently caressing her back.  Since they had flushed everything in Mexico things had been fairly easy. But he knew the studio would be an entirely different animal.  He was one half of the terror twins and he knew Nikki wasn't slowing down on anything anytime soon. It was fucked up, Tommy used drugs to keep him going to be able to experience life to the fullest.  Nikki used to get him out of some dark fucking place, but Tommy wasn't so sure he didn't like it there.

Tommy silently vowed to himself that he would be strong and he wouldn't let Rayne down.  The woman in his arms was like a saving grace and the only thing that mattered to him. And he would not do anything to screw that up… but the little devil on his shoulder kept telling him he was going to do just that.

--

There you have it, can you believe we’re at Chapter 21 already???  I really enjoyed bringing Vince and Jo back in and giving a peak into what they’ve been going through.  The Motley guys will be back in the next chapter and so will some drama.  Please let me know what you all think, your comments and feedback really fuel my writing and keep me inspired!  Have a great week everyone!

[procrastinatorproject]

Picard Positivity - The End Is The Beginning

Just about a week into this little celebration, we find ourselves at the Two Year Anniversary of the US premiere of ST:PIC season 1 episode 3, “The End is the Beginning”.

Two years ago, or Two years minus one day ago, in case of us international viewers, we were introduced to Captain Cristóbal Rios, his beautiful ship, and his crew of holographic helpers. As Picard gathered up the first three members of his motley crew and set out to head out on a mission to find Bruce Maddox and Soji, we said goodbye to Laris and Zhaban.

I thought it was fitting to dedicate this day to two characters that got introduced in episode 3. First of all, Emil, the ship’s Emergency Medical Hologram, based on a self-scan of Captain Rios.

Master of snark and passive-agressive digs, Emil is the holo we saw the most of in season 1. From his interactions with Rios, it’s clear that they have a lot of history, even if it’s not explored in depth in the show. For that you’ll have to go to the many, many stories that the fan community has produced about Emil and his colleagues. So even though we don’t know if the holos will make another appearance on screen, at least we have quite a bit of art and fic (one of those even in the form of the Picard-novel Rogue Elements) to celebrate them.

The second character I want to highlight today is, of course, La Sirena, the Kaplan F17 Speed Freighter that stole my heart and those of so many others.

This little ship has been my obsession for nearly two years and I cannot wait to finally see more of her in 26 short days! 

La Sirena, too, has a character of her own that comes out more in little details than grand story beats. You can see her age in the rubbed off red paint on the railings and scuffed floor plates, but she is clearly loved and well-cared for. A valued antique, rather than a neglected rust-bucket. And she proves her speed, agility, and power more than once.

And while she hasn’t featured as a main character in many fanworks, the fact that she has starred in some and is an important background character in many speaks to how she is cherished by her fans.

So, today we celebrate these two marvels of 24th century technology!

It has been a true delight to read all of the posts that have been populating this little hashtag. I have seen so much art and meta and fic and just so much joy, it has really filled my heart. I can’t wait to see what you all come up with next!

Thank you so much for celebrating these 30 Days of Picard Positivity!

[princess-schez]

Fic: Naughty Girl

Rating: Mature Genre: Ren/Reader, Knights of Ren/Reader Summary: On Varnak, you met a lot of different people and aliens, each with their own story. And that was especially true one night when you meet the mysterious leader of the Knights of Ren... Word Count: 2857 A/N: Likes and reblogs are loved and much appreciated. :-D Thank you! *kisses* Fic can also be found on AO3 and Wattpad.

A night on Varnak...

I hear the raucous, drunk roar of the patrons in the bar from my dressing room as though I were right in the middle of it. Another rowdy crowd has come tonight, as it does every single night. The music from the house band does nothing to drown the loud voices or the near fights of over-inflated, inebriated egos.

I smirk to myself as I powder my nose, the beep from my datapad breaking me from my train of thought. Setting my brush down, I skim through my messages before setting it back inside the drawer of my vanity. I take a deep breath as courses of adrenaline surge through me. My heart races with excitement as I check myself over in my dressing room mirror one last time. Everything has to be on point for tonight: Hair: check.

I pucker up my lips. Makeup: check.

Clothes..... Well, that would be a bit of an overstatement, considering I am only wearing a bejeweled bra, panties consisting mostly of fringe and gemstones than actual material, thigh-high stockings, and high heel shoes. I adjust my top a bit more, giving myself a bit more cleavage.

Check.

I smirk at my reflection, a perfect mix of sugar and spice, and everything not so nice. Doe-y eyes, plump, painted lips, every curve of my body that dare I say drips with sexiness that makes men weak… make them want to spill their deepest secrets to me...

I reach for my two feathered fans–the black and white plumes made of the softest down imaginable–and I make my way to peek out from behind the heavy drapes. I spy on humans and various alien species milling about the notorious environment, a motley mixture of thugs, scoundrels, and gangs that conducted not-so-legal business on this Hutt-free planet. But as much as this place is known for mischief and mayhem–with the occasional murder–it pays very well.

And not just in credits.

I look around, noticing a few regulars in the crowd. But as always, there were a few newbies that, through some happenstance, ended up on this planet in the Mid Rim. Much like the group that huddled in a corner. Cloaked in black was a group of eight, six of whom were standing around, faces concealed with imposing-looking masks, almost as if they were the bodyguards of the silver-haired man that sat in the middle.

The eighth person, a young man with dark hair–not much younger than me–looked completely out of place among them. He looked like he didn’t belong there and would have given anything to be elsewhere. The older one whispered something to one of the masked figures, before making a waving gesture with his hand, dismissing the figure.

Instantly I knew who they were: The Knights of Ren. I watched them, thinking of everything I knew or heard about this particular group... and none of it was good. Their reputation of kill first, ask questions later preceding them. I couldn’t help but wonder what sort of business brought them to this place tonight.

And with my thoughts elsewhere, I almost didn’t notice them dim the stage lights or hear them announce me to the stage. Clearing my head, preparing myself again for the task at hand, I put on my best sultry smile and made my way to the stage to thunderous applause, catcalls, and some rather suggestive remarks. Out of the corner of my eye, I could still make out the shadowy figure of the Knights. But I pushed them from my mind; I had a job to do.

The music started, slow, soft beats I slowly rock my hips to. The feathered fans were simply an extension of myself as I twirled my wrists. I heard voices calling out to me as I shake my booty to more cheers. A few others in the crowd whistled, and I smirked, knowing they were already under my spell. I turned back in the direction of the Knights. Despite their masks, I could feel the weight of their gaze on me, but none more so than the silver-haired man who watched me with great interest. I turn to face him as I cover my chest with my fans in one hand. Carefully I remove my top, letting it fall from my body to the floor, never breaking eye contact with their mysterious leader. He watches intently as I moved my feathers around, teasingly, never letting more than a brief peek of my bare breasts be seen. He shifts in his seat, his hand sliding down between his legs to grab hold of himself.

The music picks up in tempo, and I twirl around, keeping myself covered as I dance. The crowd is enthralled, captivated. Hypnotized. They watch my every move with rapt attention, waiting, hoping for a glimpse of more. I look over my shoulder, the leader of the Knights still watching my every move. And that’s when I make mine.

Slowly I head in his direction, feathers only covering just so much of myself. He watches me, eyebrows raised as I shimmy closer, almost right into his lap. I wink, and he smirks in turn. Feeling brave, I sit on his knee, the euphoric sensations of it pressing into my core surging through me as I shift my fans just enough to let him catch a glimpse of my bare breasts.

He licks his lips, tongue suggestively darting between his lips as I lean in, letting the fans trail up his arm, the feathers gently, seductively tickling... teasing. My breasts jiggle tantalizingly close to his face. It’s almost unnoticeable how his breath hitches, or how he tries to keep his composure. His gaze moves from my chest toward his arm where I still tease him, before returning to my face. He wants to give in to the ecstasy but keeps rigid control over himself. A strong man, he never let the facade slip. And then I catch the tiniest glimpse of it, the hardened bulge in his pants.

Bingo.

He grabs my arm roughly, his face close to mine as he pulls me in, his free hand sliding up my torso coming only to stop when he reaches my breasts. He gives one a firm squeeze before his rough, calloused thumb rubs over my hardened nipple. I bite down a moan to keep it from escaping my mouth. A small hitch of breath manages to escape. I normally never let my audience touch, only–barely–look, but something about him has removed that boundary. His hand is still groping my tit before it slides down my body again, a finger dipping underneath the waistband of my panties. I would willingly let him touch me in more discreet places, but he leans in before pulling his hand away. I almost protest as he growls in my ear, “Sweetheart, I hope you can finish what you started.”

I slowly move from his lap, sliding upwards as my mouth hovers just above his ear. Warm breath prickles my skin as I whisper, “I always finish what I start,” before moving off, letting him take one last look as I shimmy my chest, the rhythmic jiggle of my boobs hypnotizing him. He is almost paralyzed as I head back to the stage. I peek over my shoulder, his eyes boring into mine. A dangerous mix of lust and anger; I can almost feel the heat of it as I turn back to the audience.

The crowd is on edge, patrons cheering as I continue my performance. Through the music, I can hear them chanting filthy things. I lift my fans, giving them a tiny glimpse to satiate their desires, their hunger, like ravenous animals. Before long, the music slows and I take my final bow. I chance a look at the Knights, and realized through a quick count there are only seven.

The lights are dimming as I sneak back through the curtain, as quickly as a ghost vanishing. I drop my feathers back on my vanity, my topless form staring back at me in the mirror. But I don’t dwell on it as there comes a knock on my door. I peek out and see it is one of the missing Knights. More specifically, their leader. Everything about him drips with dominance, from silver hair to his rough body. His hungry eyes stare at mine before traveling down to my topless form. A smirk teases on his lips, as a chuckle escapes his mouth.

I glance down, his arousal was still very prominent in his pants. “Need help with that?” I ask, my own smirk crossing my face. He says nothing but keeps his eyes on me as I open the door wider and take a step back. His smirk grows into a rather wicked smile now, as he waves a hand, the door shutting behind him.

“Not your first groupie, I see,” he comments offhandedly, noticing how I haven’t gone to cover myself. He wastes no time, his hand moves down to his pants, lowering the zipper. He reaches in and pulls himself out; my gaze traveling to his prominent member. Long and hard, the tip reddened and slightly wet with precum; he is not a small man. He walks toward me, his free hand reaching up to my face, lifting my head to better see him. His thumb caressed my lips, tracing their shape.

“Not a social visit, I see,” my lips curving into a smile.

He hums in agreement. “I bet those plump lips would look even better wrapped around me.”

He shoves his thumb into my mouth, and I am unable to answer. I am tempted to bite his finger but quickly think better of it before he removes the digit, letting it drag down my lip, my chin. It travels down to my breasts as he pinches one and slaps the other, my skin warm from his hit.

“On your knees.” It’s not a request, but an order. I drop to my knees as he grabs my chin and holds my mouth open with force, squeezing my cheeks together. Using his other hand, he thrusts his cock past my lips and into my mouth, the tip of his cock hitting the back of my throat. I almost gag, choking on it, as tears sting my eyes from the sudden force, but I remain in control as I slowly begin to bob my head back and forth after a moment, his heavy balls bouncing inches from my face.

“Good. Take it like the whore you are,” he growls, letting go of my face and grabbing my hair tightly as he thrusts further, faster, harder into my mouth, fucking it at a relentless pace. I feel the steady dribble of salty precum tickle the back of my throat and I steel myself for him spilling his cum in my mouth… before he pulls himself out with a wet pop, leaving a trail of saliva in its wake.

I catch my breath as he drops to his knees, pushing his pants further down before he takes me by my shoulders, pushing me onto my back hard against the floor, and climbs atop. Unable to move, his engorged, wet dick dangling between his legs, he holds me down with one hand. I’m sure I’m going to have bruises in the morning, and the thought exhilarates me.

“Has anyone told you no one likes a tease? I’m going to teach you a few things, girlie, like I take what I want.”

“That’s some big talk,” I say. He watches my fingers languidly running up and down his muscular arm for a moment as I can’t help but wonder how he sustained such disfigurement over large portions of his body. The feeling of his skin is weird over my fingertips; rough, calloused. Hard. “You must be their leader,” I add.

The fire in his eyes threatens to explode, threatens to devour everything in its wake. The hunger in his pace as he strokes his length, the slick coating the shaft as he positions himself over me. He replies with only a simple “Yes. But you can call me Ren.”

He grabs the delicate material of my panties as he tugs them from my body with such force they almost rip. He tosses them carelessly over his shoulder as I lie bare beneath him, the cool air electrifying as goosebumps cover my arms, my body. My nipples harden, and I am already dripping wet in anticipation.

Ren’s arm quickly finds its way between us as I feel thick fingers begin to rub at my entrance. He moans softly above me, taking more pleasure from it himself as one of those thick fingers plunges right into my core. Quickly it pumps in and out before he adds a second, stretching my opening as he scissors them. A third finger almost sends me reeling. My breath catches in my throat as I shift slightly to allow him better access while he finger fucks me, but it is hard given he is still pinning me down with his other hand...

He removes his fingers, now coated in my slick, and shoves them into my mouth. “Don’t think about biting,” he adds before pulling them out, tracing my lips with those fingers again, smearing my lipstick with my pleasure. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Ren smiles something devious as he begins to lift my legs over his shoulders. Stars flash before my eyes, my vision going hazy as he pushes himself into me; his thick cock filling, stretching me, to the brim. He doesn’t waste time in thrusting himself in and out, the sound of wet skin slapping and our moans, filling the room. He reaches between our bodies, his calloused fingers teasing my pussy. The flames of ecstasy roar uncontrollably and I almost orgasm right there, but Ren removes his hand from my cunt his relentless pace never stopping as his balls slap against my ass from his rapid movements.

“You-you,” I begin, the waves of pleasure–and his steady thrusts–making it difficult to speak, “always travel with... companions?”

Above me he hums in response, his face contorted in pleasure as he works himself into a near frenzy. The pace of his thrusts falters slightly as he groans, his cock inside me begins to twitch. and I know his end will be coming soon. “Especially-“ I gasp, his thrusts punctuating each word, “a... new... recruit?”

“Y-yeah, Snoke-Snoke said the kid’s quite powerful in,” he groans, “t-the shadow.” Sweat is beading upon his brow, his silver hair hanging down over his scrunched-up eyes as he comes ever so close to his climax. That edge is so close for both of us, but he is lost in his desires, oblivious to what his mouth is saying.

“The... kid?”

“Y-yeah... Be-Ben.” He shifts suddenly and I feel his hand forcing its way in between our bodies, between my legs; those rough fingers gripping my nether lips. I gasp from the friction as he quickly slides his hand up my body, finding and fondling one of my tits. “S-Snoke wants to rebuild...” he grunts, “the E-Empire.” He stills for a moment to lean down and lave his tongue around my breasts before latching on with his mouth, sucking one before moving on to the other, my nipples swollen and tender in his wake. “Kid’s gonna help him, gonna be the new Vader...”

He casually pinches my nipples, the sensations only intensify as his fingers flick and pull on them, the overstimulation sends me flying over that edge, and his thrusts quickly become more frantic... desperate. I feel myself clenching around his dick when he stills for a moment. I am not prepared for the feeling of him pulling out so suddenly as he bathes me in his cum, the warm stickiness landing on my stomach, my breasts, and even my face. Ren stills for a moment as he smirks down at me, covered in his release. He licks up my body from pussy to chin, collecting his cum on his mouth as he proceeds to kiss my lips, saliva and arousal mixing. When he pulls back, a salacious trail of spit and cum dribbles from my mouth.

I swallow, licking my lips to clean them of the mixture as he shakes off the remaining bit of cum from his dick before tucking himself neatly back into his pants.

“Such a good little whore for me. Normally I would invite my boys in to partake of this perfect little ass, but I think I want to keep this one for myself.”

The euphoric bliss is slowly wearing off as he leaves the room. I am exhausted, my breathing slowly returns to normal as I get up, not bothering to put on any clothes just yet. Ren’s cum still covers my body as I walk toward my vanity and reach for the drawer with my datapad. I pull it out and tap a quick message.

Leia, I know where Ben is. And you won’t believe what I have learned.

[niksixx]

Unresolved Feelings

Requested: By an Anon! 

Pairing: Nikki Sixx x Female Reader 

Description: “Reader being badass indie rock celebrity and sharing stage with motley, so they meet before for a pre game before the show only to realize Nikki and reader are childhood friends, they lived on the same street and dated before they both left their home at 18 and went their separate ways, and they still Low-key love each other and Tommy tries to make a move and Nikki gets protective” 

A/N: If you liked this fic, leave a comment! 

*GIF is not mine. Credit to the owner.* 

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

You made it.

After years of creating music, searching for labels, and convincing said labels to give you a chance, your dreams were finally coming true.

Peeking out from behind backstage, your heart soared as thousands of fans filled the stadium. In just two hours, you’d take the stage alongside Mötley Crüe.

Being an indie rock star, you didn’t really listen to Mötley Crüe’s music. You had a slightly different style and you were busy writing your own music. But they were rising stars, gaining fans wherever they went. It only made sense to tour with them.

Backstage was where the fun happened before the shows. With bottle of Jack in one hand and a shot glass in the other, you travelled the long halls until you heard a commotion. Rounding the corner, you grinned as Mötley Crüe and their team were in a large huddle, surrounded by tables of food and alcohol that could last for weeks.

“So,” you stepped up into the huddle, flashing the boys a smile. “This is how Mötley Crüe parties.” They turned to you, beers and liquor bottles in hand, and your eyes bugged as you recognized a familiar face. One that you used to love. “Holy fuck…Nikki?”

“Y/N?” Nikki asked, bewildered. His eyes drank in your appearance, a smirk on his lips, enjoying the view. “Goddamn, girl, look at you.” He pulled you in for a hug, sloppily pressing a kiss to your cheek. “How long’s it been?”

“Six years,” you answered, offering a smile. “You look great, Nikki.”

He smiled sheepishly, cheeks tinted red. “So do you, babe. Oh guys,” Nikki slapped his head. “This is Y/N. Indie rock star, childhood best friend, and--.”

“And ex-girlfriend,” you finished, shooting Nikki a wink. His eyes were sad, filled with regret. Your relationship with Nikki only lasted half a year, but it’d been the best six months of your young life. Nikki had loved you fiercely. At eighteen, you’d both decided to go your separate ways, ending the relationship on good terms. No animosity, no drama. Just mutual respect for each other and each other’s dreams. And possibly some lingering feelings…

“Seems like he was a fool to let you go,” uttered Tommy. You didn’t miss how he licked his lips as he stared at you.

“He’s a pro at making bad decisions,” Vince chimed in, groaning as Nikki elbowed him.

You shot Nikki a sympathetic look. He rolled his eyes dramatically before clasping your hand, dragging you away from his bandmates. His arms enveloped you in a hug and you sank into his embrace, the smell of booze all around him. “It feels good to hold you again.”

Your arms tightened around him, eyes fluttering shut, nose breathing in his scent. It warmed your heart to see how far Nikki had come. From a broken teenager to a well-known rockstar, you were proud to witness his accomplishments.

After chatting with Nikki, you stalked over to the food table, eyes hungrily scanning the options. As you reached for a sandwich, you felt a close presence behind you. Turning around, you came face to face with Tommy’s chest.

His grin was wide, stretching across his face. “Well hello there,” he said, taking a swig of beer. Obviously drunk, Tommy swayed on his feet. “You are just so gorgeous. Did Nikki ever tell you that?”

“Many times,” you said, straightening your posture.

Tommy smirked. “Good, good. You ever fuck him?”

Your eyes narrowed. “Many times,” you reiterated. “Although I’m not sure how that’s your business.”

Tommy held up his hands. “My bad, my bad,” he snickered. “I was just making sure you’ve been… pleased.” Scoffing, you attempted to step around him, only for Tommy’s hand to find its way to your hip. “Where’re you going, baby? Stay. Let’s get to know each other.”

“Tommy, I’m not sure that’s--.”

“Aw, come on, I don’t bite.” Tommy assured, eye dropping into a wink. “That is, of course, if you’re into that kind of thing.”

“Tommy, I’m really not interested--.”

Tommy’s hand was replaced with a much softer, more protective one. Exhaling a breath, you sunk into Nikki’s side as Tommy stepped back. “You need to back the fuck up, man,” Nikki warned, voice icy. “Show a little more respect, hm?”

Rolling his eyes, Tommy stalked away. Shaking your head, you glanced up at Nikki, who smiled down at you and lightly kissed your temple. “Nobody messes with my girl.”

“Your girl?” Your heart quickened. Had he meant that?

Nikki nodded. “You’ve always been my girl, Y/N, even if things did end between us.”

As you and Nikki beamed at each other, you realized that maybe you actually did have some unresolved feelings for the black-haired bassist. Maybe, just maybe, you could try again.

[illfoandillfie]

ok sorry but how many people do yall think rog has ever slept with cos i’m guessing four figures no lie

okay, i don’t normally respond to messages like this because, frankly, i dont really feel like its my place to speculate on roger’s sex life. Theres a difference between writing a fiction story with a character named after and inspired by him and discussing his actual personal life which i have no real knowledge about. What he gets up to in his free time is between him and the women he does it with. but i didn’t really feel able to ignore this one. please don’t take this as me telling you off or shutting you down or anything like that. If you want to speculate about roger’s body count thats up to you, go nuts with it. and i love when you guys message me and I don’t want to discourage you from feeling like you can talk to me or just send me your random thoughts or whatever about any subject. But I feel like I need to address why I disagree with this sentiment. Also so I can ask ya’ll to please stop asking me questions like this. 

So firstly, just to get this out of the way. 1000 is a lot. even 100 is a lot. I think if rog had slept with 1000+ people he’d have a least a few illegitimate kids and probably would have been checked into rehab for sex addiction (not to mention STIs and such because lbr people in the 70s specifically probs werent the most careful especially if drugs were involved). I mean even if we were going to say Rog got lucky with a different woman after every show we wouldn’t reach 1000. According to google, Queen played around 700 shows in their entire career. If we add shows played by The Cross thats only another 67 odd shows (according to wikipedia). 

now, i think there are 3 things that contribute to this idea of roger as especially promiscuous. 1. His attitude/demeanour/general way he sells himself. 2. the generally held conceptions about rock stars and rock star behaviour. and 3. what i’m going to call fandom dumbassery (but i mean that with a lot of love) 

So lets start with the man himself. Roger Taylor is loud and opinionated and not particularly humble. He knows he’s talented and attractive though for at least some time he was a little self-conscious about how feminine he looked. He’s always up for a laugh, likes to party and has admitted to enjoying his drink and his women. He’s had kids with two different women, who’s relationships “overlapped”, and is currently married to a third. At least that’s the perception we can gleam from his interviews, behind the scenes videos, and other public appearances. 

It’s easy to see how that image leads to accusations of being a womaniser and a cheater and basically a bit of a slut lmao. But here’s the thing. I think Roger, in part, markets himself that way. The thing is, if you look at his solo songs and the relationships he currently has with his kids and their mothers, and things other people have said about him/his relationships over the years, I think it’s fair to say he also has a bit of a romantic streak maybe? idk if thats the best way of describing it...he’s self confessed to not being a fan of marriage and the like but he’s not opposed to writing and singing love songs and seems to believe in ~love~ as a concept/power. He certainly cares deeply for those closest to him. Whether or not that translates to an agreement with monogamy I can’t say for certain. It’s hard to draw conclusions here because a lot of what we know of his personal life was fed to us through magazines and news paper gossip column articles and they were never looking for the truth, they were looking for scandal and sensationalism. 

For instance the whole thing with the overlapping relationships. I think most people who have read anything about roger and dom and debbie realise that it’s not as cut and dry as “he was cheating with debbie and left dom for her” even though that was the story being sold by the press at the time. The reality (or at least the version closer to reality since obviously no one outside of them and whoever they were closest with knows all the nitty gritty details) is that rog and dom had already split when they got married. it was a marriage of convenience to make sure her and the kids would be looked after financially etc even after he’d moved out. So while it looked to the public like he married one chick and 30 odd days later was spotted with another, there really wasn’t anything untoward happening.  I’m not saying he never had casual hookups or one night stands and i’m not saying he never cheated, but I do think some of it’s been exaggerated, whether by him to encourage the rock star perception or by newspaper/magazine articles.

Now, obviously, we have stories of rog, particularly in the late 60s and into the 70s, being with multiple women. There’s that bit in the Interview with a Queen “Groupie” (which is a fantastic read and i defs recommend checking it out if you havent already) where she talks about roger being a chick magnet and says that, at the time, it was pretty common to sleep about. But, she also says she didnt notice him doing it more or less than anyone else and seemed to mostly be with Jo (his girlfriend at the time). This is the same Jo that got a mention in the Queen in 3D book (”i think we all had the feeling that these two were together for life, but it was not to be”). Conversely, we have that quote (which i cannot find rn but i’ll link it when i do) about roger sometimes having one girl upstairs while another waited in the garage for them to be finished. I think it was about Rog in the mid-late 60s in Truro but whatever. Obviously he wasn’t anywhere near celibate and it’s likely was sleeping with people outside of his relationship(s). But one has to assume that as he got older those kinds of antics stopped happening, at least as frequently.

There is one potential story that I remember reading somewhere along the way about Roger cheating on Debbie while she was pregnant. But, take that with a grain of salt because I can’t find the article again and also I think it was from like The Sun or something equally as rubbish. The press was notoriously always printing mean shit about the boys and that might have been another thing they published to create scandal. Even so, if we assume it’s legit that is still only 1 story. Not to throw him under the bus but Brian is the one with multiple confirmed affairs, who literally wrote songs about it all. So why is Roger the one with sleazy reputation? 

This is where my second and third points come in. There is a pervasive idea about what it means to be a rock star. The whole trashing hotel rooms, sleeping with groupies, passing out drunk every night thing. And I’m sure that Queen was like that to an extent. I think it’s pretty common knowledge that all of them got up to shit on the road. Between innuendo laden interviews and songs, videos and accounts of their parties, stories CT has put online, and other stories like the one of Roger bringing out lines of coke as dessert when he was having dinner with motley crue. They definitely embraced the rock and roll lifestyle. And I think with Roger’s personality being what it is, it’s easy to link him to those traditional rock star tropes and say it was all true all the time. I also think Roger has done nothing to counter those beliefs. He’s been open about how he wanted to be a rock star since the minute he picked up a guitar, he’s labelled himself as a great lay in magazines, he’s joked about girls pulling their tits out over dinner in interviews (though he said he didnt take her home), he’s written songs like One Night Stand and Dirty Mind and Airheads which explicitly mention his preference for women and alcohol. I think it’s fair to say he’s kind of encouraged that view of himself. Whether it was just a side effect of being part of such a well known band and having such a boisterous demeanour/personality, or whether it was intentional as a version of promotion i don’t know. maybe a mix of them? I mean I’m sure it didn’t hurt sales and stuff. it’s the whole guys want to be him, girls want to be with him thing, right? Maybe that’s just me being cynical though lmao. 

Anyway, the fandom brain has taken all of that and compressed it into memes and jokes about rog being the band slut. Which i’m not complaining about, lord knows i’ve made the same jokes and reblogged the same posts and used those tropes in my fics. They’re funny and lend themselves to interesting fic concepts. Plus, i think roger is the sort of person who would probably laugh about most of it. But it’s an idea that keeps feeding into itself through fandom, perpetuating what is probably a misguided view of his personal life.

Again, I am sure he’s had his fair share of fun and I’m not trying to make out that he was always perfect or whatever, but I don’t think he’s been with as many women as the popular discourse would imply and I certainly don’t think he’s in the 4 digit numbers. 

[toria-lilith]

Smoke and Roses - A Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx fan fiction (Chapter two)

A/N: Wow, guys! I am utterly blown away by the reception to chapter one. I’ve been working on this fic for a while and it’s nice to see such a positive response. I wasn’t going to post chapter two until later tonight, but I got excited, and so here it is! Please enjoy!

T.W: Non applicable (Just the boys being little shits) Word count: 1279 words Masterlist: Chapter one

The cab pulled up outside the infamous Whiskey-A-Go-Go bar about ten minutes later. The four members of Motley Crue were outside, and though whoever they had been scrapping with was long gone, they now appeared to be bickering amongst themselves. With a heavy sigh, Doc paid the driver, and then he and Holland got out.

“What the hell have you done now?” He asked, already tired with them.

“Some assholes were fuckin’ disrespecting us, dude!” Tommy said immediately.

“Right,” Doc said, “but why? Why are you here at eleven AM?”

“Well, we wanted a drink,” Tommy justified, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

While he and Doc argued, Holland took the time to look over each member of the band individually. Tommy Lee, the drummer. Childlike, naive, and reckless as hell. Tommy was the youngest in the band, two years younger than Holland, and it showed. Mick Mars, the guitarist. Stoic. Mysterious. She knew the least about him but it would seem so did the rest of the band. Vince Neil, the singer. Blonde, lean and utterly gorgeous. He could get any woman he wanted. Holland wondered if she’d fall for his charm, though she doubted it. And then there was Nikki Sixx, the bass player. The human embodiment of sex, drugs and rock and roll. He was all teased black hair and smudged eyeliner, and there was a half-full bottle of Jack Daniel’s in his hand despite the early hour. He was already watching Holland, and sporting a split lip and one hell of a black eye. “Who’s this?” He said, interrupting Doc.

“What?” Doc had been distracted by Tommy’s list of excuses and realised he’d forgotten to introduce Holland. “Of course, where are my manners?” He forced a smile and motioned to Hester, “boys, this is Holland Van-Ness. She’s your new PR manager. The one I told you about this morning.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Holland said, hoping to sound more confident than she felt. All the anxiety she’d felt on the plane ride flooded back and she shifted her feet awkwardly. “I’ve been looking forward to working with you.” That wasn’t strictly true, but she figured she may as well get down to business and make a good first impression. “Doc, can you walk us back to the apartment? I have a first aid kit in my bag, and these injuries need dealing with.”

Nikki, Vince and Tommy looked as though they were going to protest, but Mick and Doc took off down the Sunset Strip in the direction of the apartment, and so they begrudgingly followed. Holland couldn’t help but smile to herself. Her first order, and they had, (unwillingly), obeyed. Maybe this wouldn’t be as difficult as she first pictured.

The apartment was a mere ten minute walk from the Whiskey-A-Go-Go. As they arrived, Doc pulled her to one side and said in a hushed voice, “good luck. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” she promised him, “thanks, Doc.”

“I’ll see you later, Holly,” he said with a smile, then waved to the boys and left. Holland tried the door, but found it wouldn’t budge, and the boys snickered.

“It’s nailed shut,” Vince said, like he expected her to already know, “we go in through the window.”

Holland couldn’t resist rolling her eyes. “Right. Of course you do.”

She followed them up the fire escape and climbed awkwardly through the window, (after Tommy forced it open with a knife), pulling her bags in after her. The place was filthy. It was covered in stains, that she had no desire to find out the cause of, and looked like it hadn’t had a decent clean since the day they moved in. Holland sighed. She truly did have her work cut out for her. “Alright,” she said, fishing her first aid kit out of her rucksack, “who’s first?”

She surveyed each boy carefully. Mick was free of injuries, which didn’t surprise her. Vince seemed fairly clear too. “I have this black eye,” Tommy said impressively, pointing to the large bruise on his face. Holland sighed.

“You’re not bleeding. You’ll live.” She dismissed him and turned to Nikki. His lip had stopped gushing blood, but his face was covered with little cuts from where he had been presumably punched. He locked eyes with her and smirked, like he knew already what she was about to say. That smirk infuriated her. “Alright, Nikki. You’re up.”

The bassist led her to the bathroom. He put the lid down on the toilet, (which she was glad of, as she had zero desire to touch it), and sat, looking at her expectantly. Holland tried to ignore his burning gaze while she concentrated on gently cleaning up around his split lip. “You’re lucky you don’t need stitches,” she told him. “What happened?”

“The usual,” he said casually, like it was an every day occurrence, (and to be fair, it might have been), “group of assholes, calling us chicks. Tommy opened his big fuckin’ mouth, and, well, you know the rest,” he grinned at her, then winced as it further split his lip. Holland shot him a look and set back to work, wiping the fresh blood that dripped onto his chin.

Being in such close proximity to Nikki set her nerves on edge and she knew he could tell. “You don’t look like the sorta girl we’d see at a Motley party,” he told her with a smirk. Holland shrugged.

“I’m not.” She started to work on disinfecting the cuts, “I couldn’t help but notice there’s only two bedrooms.”

“Right, about that,” he nodded, “either you stay with Vince and Tommy in their room, or you stay with me in mine. There is the couch of course, but the front room is also infested with rats. Your choice.”

“What about Mick?” She said, raising her eyebrow.

“Mick lives with his girlfriend. He wouldn’t stay in a shit hole like this if we paid him.”

“Right.” Holland was quiet for a while. “Which would you say is preferable?”

“Well,” he seemed to ponder for thought, “Vince snores and Tommy throws up all the time.”

“And you?”

Nikki grinned. “I’m a fuckin’ delight.”

“Then I guess the decision’s made for me,” Holland was concerned that sounded flirty, when that hadn’t been her intention at all. Nikki, being Nikki, definitely took it that way and his smirk grew wider.

“Holly, I think we’re gonna have a lot of fun.”

He looked as though he was considering closing the gap between them, and if Holland had had a drink, maybe she would have let him, but she shot back and started tidying away the first aid kit. “You’re all done,” she said, a little flustered, “please be more careful in the future. I can do cuts and bruises but broken bones are a bit beyond my pay grade.”

“You got it, sugar,” he winked at her as he passed, then returned and gave her ass a swift smack. Holland almost jumped out of her skin. Now alone in the grimy bathroom, she leaned back against the wall, her cheeks flushed red. She was mortified that she had allowed Nikki to leave her so flustered.

She gathered her composure and then returned to the front room where the boys were chatting amongst themselves. “Holland, do you have plans later?” Vince asked her. Holland shook her head. She wondered if they were about to invite her to dinner, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. “Great! Then tonight’s your first Motley party.”

Oh no.

She looked anxiously around at them, and almost refused, but remembered what Doc had said about getting to know them, and so after a moment of hesitation, nodded. “You’re on.”

[countessofsnark]

Snarky Recap - Thunderbirds Are Go: ‘Inferno’

The One Where Virgil Channels His Inner Firefighter Like The Precious Hero He Is.

Ah the soothing sound of Big Ben telling us that this adventure will take place in London. Cue other famous landmarks that have survived into the future setting of TAG. Such as those lovely red telephone boots that in spite of modern communication being entirely digital and wireless, just won’t leave the streets of London. Like, is it forbidden by heritage law to remove them or something? *squint*

If taken out of context, this could be a screenshot from the exclusive upcoming Thunderbirds Are Go musical.

Also, raising a building to make sure it’s taller than the one in Dubai: ah yes, I see that good old Freudian staple that is the male obsession with size still holds true in the future.

‘Trust me, the lifting process is 100% safe.’ Like, the Titanic is 100% unsinkable. And look how that turned out.

MY BABY. 

Well, look at that. The lifting procedure was completed without a hitch. This almost feels like a Final Destination movie. If one hazardous operation doesn’t do the trick, perhaps the next badly timed decision will.

What is light pollution, eh.

All those lights are due to cause trouble for the already overloaded power grid. Which is when one fuse sparks off the titular inferno that sets the beautiful spiral tower ablaze. Always listen to your local firebrigade, Mr Yost. Your building was pretty shiny without that light show. And now it’s definitely lit. (sorry not sorry)

Yost: ‘Please, please, please! Save my building!’

Chief McCready: ‘I think you mean save those people!’

I really like Chief McCready and her sass. Also she’s clearly made of all the right heroic stuff.

That glorious moment where Alan is being a total poser who would make his TOS counterpart proud. Also, Virgil is clearly having none of it.

John’s little cough as he interrupts the painting session. I LOLed so hard.

‘Alan? You can move now.’ Good thing you told him, Virge, or he’d be up there assuming that pose all day long.

And on today’s episode of Life on Tracy Island, we learn that it is never a good thing to leave unfinished paintings unsupervised when MAX is around.

‘Sorry sir, I mustache you a question’ (I couldn’t resist)

From silly poses to big-eyed curiosity: Why Alan Tracy Will Always Be Our Precious Space Noodle.

Bring on your weekly round of Exposition 101, this time around by John Tracy: ‘Crystal Spire. 1125 metres from ground to tip. It’s supposed to be some sort of architectural masterpiece.’ 

Virgil: ‘It probably looks a lot better when it’s not on fire.’ 

SOUND THE SNARK KLAXON, WE HAVE TWO WINNERS OVER HERE.

The look on Virgil’s face when someone says the magic words ‘heavy lifting.’ Virgil is ALWAYS prepared for some heavy lifting. (No that was not a euphemism. Unless you want it to be. *innocent grin*)

No way indeed. 

Virgil: ‘But as Dad always said: if you can’t find a door...’

Alan: ‘Make one!’

I sure hope that’s not how Jeff approached the subject of Lucy’s virginity. *cough cough*

Get ready... Set... JUMP. *Highway To Hell intensifies* Also, that little smirk just before he makes the jump. Be still my heart.

Thanks to that modified suit (which is looking very shiny and way more snug fitting than his usual outfit) Virgil soon finds McCready and her trapped crew.

Chief McCready: ‘I need you to lift about eight tonnes of rubble.’

Virgil: ‘Eight tonnes? No sweat.’

Virge? Your badass-o-meter just went berserk. Please stop.

Unfortunately for Virgil, the floor can’t handle this much badassery pressure under current conditions so before he can let go of the rubble, Virgil finds himself clinging for dear life and doing a very good Frodo at Mount Doom impressions.

Speaking off badass: here we have a heroic daisy chain in the face of mortal danger. This is why firefighters are real life superheroes: no move is too crazy if it means saving a life.

Awkward handshake is awkward. Furthermore I would not recommend challenging a suited up Virgil to an arm wrestling match. Scratch that, challenging Virgil to an arm wrestling match is never a good idea if you’re not prepared to fail miserably.

That time Thunderbird 2 turned itself into an airborne party machine. Maybe the DJ Virgil joke is ready to be head canon material after all...

‘Low frequency fire suppression coming up!’ 

*cue horribly high pitched anime-esque tune blasting out of the speakers*

Alan: ‘Oops, sorry. Wrong playlist.’

*switches to some kind of wicked dubstep*

Yeah that’s what I call good vibes. Damn son.

Suddenly, a huge blast engulfs Thunderbird 2, causing part of the Big Green Bird to look a bit like a burnt toast.

Virgil: ‘Thunderbird 2, you okay up there?’

Alan: ‘Yeah. Nothing to worry about’ *to himself* ‘Nothing a respray won’t fix.’ You’re in big trouble, sonny Jim. *cackles*

Virgil Tracy vs several tonnes of free falling elevator. Oh my goodness. Red Bull presents: Extreme Weightlifting, the Tracy Edition. (That body hugging suit is pretty distracting as well, whoops)

Quick thinking on Virgil’s side gets this motley crew of heroes to the top of the building - using a battery to power up the elevator for a single use.

McCready ‘stealing’ Virgil’s line. LOL, Virge, that’s kinda rude now isn’t it. Whatever happened to modesty and respecting hierarchy?

‘So what’s the evacuation plan?’

Ah yes. What IS the evacuation plan, hmm Virgil?

Leaving the decision making up to Alan is a bad idea. Trampolines? Seriously? Taking the top off? That’s ridi... well okay that might work.

Also, the BBQ vs eyebrows anecdote is basically a fic waiting to be written. Stay tuned, guys. *rubs hands*

We now move on to what can only be described as Virgil leaning somewhat seductively on one of the tower’s many spirals. I can’t even.

Chief McCready: ‘How’s the view?’

Virgil: ‘Breathtaking.’

You can say that again. *grins*

The peaceful scene is interrupted by another blast and the Chief being catapulted off the building. Virgil gracefully runs down a spiral to come to her aid.

BE STILL MY HEART.

And here we have what I assume is a brilliant example of Virgil’s irresistible bedroom eyes. *fans self*

Now that all cutters are in place, the top removal job can start. Time for Alan to do his thing. Saving people, Tracy style.

Sorry Mr Yost, sometimes you gotta live with the fact that you don’t have the tallest building in the world after all.

That scene where Virgil’s impressive chest moving beneath the suit is temporarily disabling my ability to be coherent. Please hose me down, anyone?

And that’s when Virgil finds out what happened to his bird.

‘All it needs is a lick of paint.’ Oh yes, Alan, thanks for reminding Virgil that you guys still have a painting to finish. *evil cackling*

Ah what a lovely episode this was. Too bad its setting and topic had it cut from Thunderbirds official broadcasting (and media!) with these digital copies floating around the net being the only way to get a hold of it. As far as I’m concerned we sure could use more Virgil in this modified exosuit AND Alan piloting Thunderbird 2. Happy Boxing Day, TAG team!

[getthefckouttahere]

MASTERLIST

Keys

🌻 for fluff

🍑 for smut

🔥 for angst

Vince Neil

The First Names Concept (series)🍑🔥🌻

A classic tale of skinny love, with a third person coming to throw things off course.

Tommy Lee

Two Hearts Fixed, One’s Still Broken🌻

Y/N and Tommy are there for each other when they found out that their fiancées cheated on them.

Rockstars - What Are They Even Good For?🔥🌻

The life and death of your relationship with Tommy.

History Won’t Repeat Itself🔥🌻

You're worried about your relationship with Tommy with him disappearing for hours on end everyday.

Coming Home From A Fight🌻

“Could you write a imagine where tommy comes home to your door after a fight, and he’s like all bruised up but he’s still making jokes. Idk i thought it would be cute.”

Meeting The Parents🌻

“Could you write about Tommy being nervous to meet Y/N’s parents and her comforting him about it.”

Nikki Sixx

Two Hearts Fixed, One’s Still Broken🔥

Nikki has to watch Y/N show the love she once had for him to Tommy.

Mismatched🌻

How is it possible that two completely different people fell for each other?

Daddy Issues🌻

Short thing on how you met some kid named Frank.

Mötley’s Clean Up Crüe

“So I have a request where the reader is like a clean up crew, and one day when you’re cleaning the stage you decide to play on Nikki’s guitar and he catches you!”

Seriously? Tommy over Me?🔥

“I’d like to request the reader being with Nikki but one night on their tour bus she cheats on him with Tommy and Nikki walks in on them and it gets really angsty?”

Mick Mars

Y/N likes Mick!🌻

Tommy accidentally lets out to Mick that Y/N likes him.

[goosefightrobinmayor]

So here’s what I’ve been working on this week.

It’s fic for this game called Night of Full Moon.  I was struck by a couple of ideas.  First, of a character who has to adapt to having no sensation at all, and what a toll that might take on a person.  Second, the idea that a place hearing your name while you’re in it can make your name disappear- from everyone’s memories- and also transform you.  

Not sure if any of these ideas are canon to the game but I still wanna play in this space further so...this’ll probably metamorphose into an original thing eventually :p

“Not even this?” She pulls back with some ferocity and fires and fires a bolt of ice into at him.  The Tin Man tries to dodge, following some ancient, long-time meaningless instinct.  The Tin Man is not The Fast Man though and he takes the damage anyway.  

His arm is encased in ice.  It’s ice that’s clear enough to see a reflection in, however fragmented.  Several tired eyes look back at hims from his arm.

“So?”

“Hmm?  Oh, can I feel it?” the Tin Man says.  The Elf’s Queen’s wings are beating fast as a heart and her hands are clasped; her eyebrows coming together for a question.  

“Nah,” The Tin Man says.

“Really?” The Queen presses, “That’s one of my most powerful attacks.”

“Seems impressively devastating.”

The Queen causes sunshine to beam down from her fingers and the ice melts.  She takes his hand and inspects it.  A bit presumptuous, isn’t it?  She could ask.  But, the Tin Man supposes, the Queen probably never asks anyone for anything.

“Oh!  But you’re dented,” the Queen points out the dent.

“Give it time.  It’ll pop back into place,” damage never seems to lasts too long.

“But I damaged you,” she has a sly smile, “you told me you couldn’t get hurt.”

“I can’t get hurt,” he says, “maybe I should say, I can’t be hurt.”

“The difference being?”

“I don’t feel it, Ma’am.”

“Feel?”  She squeezes his metal hand, “You can’t- feel?”

Nothing.  There’s no sensation in his arms or his legs or his hollow, burning body.  He knows that she’s holding his hand because he sees it happening, but he could shut his eyes it would be as if she wasn’t even here.

The only sensation he has is a gripping feeling within.  The fleshy heart in it aches more she rubs her hand over the back of his.  His heart is a starving animal and it can never be fed.  

He takes his hand back, “You might as well just attack me again, Ma’am.”

He was a little too snappish with that one, and she’s a little too sharp, “Is that pain in your voice?”

“Ridiculous.  I don’t.  Feel.  Pain is something you have to feel.”

She blinks a few times.  She clasps her own hands, “Of course.  What am I thinking?  There’s no nerves in metal.”

The Tin Man lets his shoulders settle, “I’m- sorry.  Ma’am,” he places a hand over the heart-shaped window in his chest.  There’s a kiln here that’s constantly burning, whether he feeds it fuel or not.  Behind the kiln is that vexatious organ.  It cries out for the world, and yet he cannot tear it out nor stop it from beating.  

The Elf Queen sits, on the stone bench, and gestures to the chair across from her.  He lets himself sink until he stops sinking.  One of the hardest things about lacking sensation is moving.  If he starts to trip, he’ll just keep falling until he’s on the ground, not ever able to correct mid-trip.  Sometimes he plows full on into trees and doesn’t realize until miles later when he finds splinters between his plates.

He doesn’t stop sinking until he’s on the ground.  He crosses his legs with a scrape and another scrape, crossing his arms, too, peeved.  “It’s more comfortable in the snow.”

“Of course,” the Elf Queen says, and scoots down into the snow with him,  “you were saying?”

He inclines his head, “I was rude.  And it doesn’t reflect what I’ve been trying to do, lately.”

“Do?”

He lifts it, “When I helped that little girl get away from the dog, I felt-” he sighed, “good.  I felt like- I had done something.  To make the world a little better.  I wanted- I wanted to feel that again.”

The Queen clasps her hands, “Is that why you came to me?  To help more people?”

“Well, I heard that you were not fan of the church,” he chuckles, “my enemy’s enemy, right?”

The Queen’s eyes are downcast, “That’s true- I do not agree with the human church’s practices. So, you’ll help us?”

“‘Us?’”

“The Nameless and I.”

“Nameless?”

“It’s what they choose to call themselves.  Humans changed by the curse.  We band together, doing what we can against the church.”

“Ah, the curse.”

“Yes.  So?”

“Sure, if you’ll take a witch’s construct in your motley crew.”

The Queen lifted her head, “You weren’t human?”

“Uhh?  Is that a question?”

“Sorry,” she cocked her head, “forgive me for asking.  But you have an aura about you- of one who’s lost his name.”

His name?  “I don’t remember the name I used to have, sure, but what does that- wait.  Constructs don’t have names.”

“Ah,” the Queen said.

Whelp.  That just about as smoothly as a rusty axe, “Ah.”

The Queen smooths out her dress.

“OK,” the Tin Man says, “caught me.  But you really believe I was human?  Because I’ve been told before that humans never turn into things made of metal.”

“Is that the rule?  I’ve never it.”

“I have.  From several cursed people.”

“Well,” the Queen shrugged, “as I said, the aura.  It would be strange for a construct to lose his name if constructs don’t have names.  But really, it’s your call.  Are you human?”

“Not now.”

“Would you like to be?”

He stares at her, waiting for her to get uncomfortable enough to fill the silence, but it seemed she’s not going to get there.  He makes a coughing noise, “What is this about names?”

“Every changed human has forgotten their own name.”

The Tin Man makes a snowball.  Just something to keep his hands busy.  Or his eyes as he watches his hands.

“I didn’t know that was part of the curse.”

The Elf Queens smiles gently, “It’s good that you’ve come to us.  How long have you been in the forest, with these questions, for no-one to answer?”

“Er-” he looked up at light but gray sky, “I’m not good at measuring time when only winter exists.”

The Queen nods, “Too long.  And what can I call you, Wanderer?”

“Er.  Not that, probably,” he says, “call me Tin Man.  It’s what describes me best.”

The Queen nods, “And I’m- Elf Queen.  As far as you know.”

“Fair,” no need to expose her name to the curse.

She’s standing.  The Tin Man didn’t even see her get up.  He’s rising too.  Her hands are on his elbow.  She caresses it, just slightly.

He pulls his arm away as if burned.

“Did I do something wrong?” Elf Queen asks.

He sighs, or at least makes a disconnected sound of sighing.  He doesn’t have a mouth, and he doesn’t understand how he functions the way he does.  “I don’t like to be touched.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“I don’t feel.”  

Realization makes her startle a bit.  She puts her hand to her mouth.  She reaches a hand for his face, but thinks better of it.  “Oh dear.  To a creatures who’s always felt his own body, to lose all sensation must be very strange indeed.”

“Them’s the breaks, huh?”

“Even for a human, it would probably drive them mad.”

The Tin Man says nothing.  His heart is beating furiously behind his kiln.  The Queen offered an unspoken question.

“I hated it,” he said, “I still hate it.  I was numb on the outside, and I thought I wanted to be numb on the inside, too.  I trained myself not to stop feeling emotions,” he puts his hand on his window, “I want to stop.  I want to feel things now.  Good things.  Good deeds feel- good.  They make me feel like- I’m not alive, exactly.  But doing things.  Improving things,” he sighs, “but I’m aware that means I have to feel negative things, too.”  

He balls up his fists and puts them to his side, “I’m just not good at it yet.  That heart hunger.  The touch starvation’s worse when someone’s hand is there.  I know you mean well, but I don’t want to be touched.  Not when I can’t touch back.”

She puts her hands to her side, “Understood, Tin Man.  I won’t touch you from this point further- unless I deem it to be absolutely necessary.”

She’s.  Understanding, for a queen.  Humans leaders can probably learn a thing or two from her.  Huh.  Is leadership even still a thing out there?  Does the rest of the world still have mayors and kings?  Does anything even still exist outside of this cursed forest?

“Thank you for your understanding, Ma’am.”