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kneelingshadowsalome · 10 months

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I Never Missed You 1/3 (Bodyguard!Ghost x F!Reader)

Word count: 3.5 k

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Romance, eventual smut, fluff, light angst, banter, pining, flirting, minor injuries, major character death, HFN ending. Lady/Knight dynamic. Unequal pairing trope. Bodyguard AU. Reader is a rich bitch (how else could she afford a PPO?)

Summary: 1/3 You hire a bodyguard to protect you and hunt down the one who's been sent to take your life. This man was your lawyer's first recommendation, and you never even looked through his file because you had better things to do. But it soon turns out that this man – this Simon Riley – is very talented... Talented in driving you crazy.

A/N: A three part fic based on this request. The first chapter features banter and pining. If you're here for smut, stay tuned. There is an entire chapter of it coming right up.

Your lawyer says it would be a good idea. He even dares to look at you from under his brow like you're a child who doesn't know what's good for her.

And you don't.

Because that's exactly how you feel like: a grown woman who's stunted to a kid, now being supervised by adults.

The bodyguard they assigned you - the one you accepted because he was your lawyer's first choice - is exactly the broad, brooding type you have always imagined bodyguards to be like.

But he's not wearing sunglasses, and he's not wearing a suit. He says the point of a bodyguard is that they don't look like a bodyguard.

The first thing you actually pay attention to is the milky-white eyelashes. Only days after you hear that this man rarely shows his face. You were given a file on him, but you never peeked inside it because you were pissed that such drastic measures had to be taken in the first place. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Now you pry it from the pile of papers you buried it into, open it, and the first - and only - photo you see is a perfect portrayal of what Death looks like.

He's the Reaper himself when adorned with that human skull. Keen but emotionless eyes stare from the pits of the sockets to somewhere in the distance, but that look is a stare into the past. The photo raises thousands of questions, and not only the need to know why this man prefers to wear human bones when he's shooting people.

Because apparently, that’s what he used to do before he became a bodyguard. He's buff, that you already know. But in that picture, he looks even more packed, with what you suppose is a bullet vest beneath that blouse. He’s holding an ugly-looking gun – not a pistol, but a rifle of some sort. The gear on him no doubt weighs something close to 60 pounds. His sleeves are rolled up and expose the crisscross veins on his forearms along with war-ugly, crude tattoos, and you swallow.

Were you really looking at a picture of a barbaric soldier like it was some peculiar soft porn now?

You flip the file closed and toss it on the table, rather disgusted with yourself.

The next time you see him, you look into those brown eyes a moment longer. That stoic stare is the only thing you recognize as that of the man in the picture. That, along with his size, although photos really can't convey how this brooding grunt makes you feel: small and insignificant. Nor do they illustrate how the man looks like he’s the most graceful bull in a china shop when moving inside your house.

You suppose he grew up poor, the way he looks at your furniture, your half-a-mile bookshelf, and the latest art piece you got last month in your living room. He's judging you.

You're posh. And clueless. And a child.

And this brute lives with you, for now. He's placed downstairs until the target is neutralized. And he's not just a bodyguard: he's hunting the hunter while you're the bait.

It should give you a thrill; your friend giggles when you two gossip about him over a lunch while he's standing only a few feet away. But this situation does not give you a thrill. It just makes you pissed.

And it's not just the situation, it's this... Simon Riley who makes you pissed.

Couldn't they teach manners, some conversation skills at the bodyguard school or wherever the hell this pale, emotionless Hulk came from?

You recheck his file and snoop some more details about his past. He didn't go to bodyguard school (of course he didn't); he used to work for some PMC. The brute's a cold-blooded, cold-hearted mercenary. To put it more eloquently, he's an elite soldier of some tactical unit. But all of that is classified, as is almost every other detail about him. The only thing you are left with is that he's British through and through, but you can already tell that by his accent - the thick Mancunian that makes your stomach and heart flip.

It's gruff – of course it's gruff – and sometimes chafes your ears like they were being grated with the softest grater. You find yourself thinking about him while you're in the shower, when your fingers start to drift and wander.

And for the love of god, you are not thinking about that accent and those eyes while you're masturbating. You're not going to mourn the fact that he never rolls his sleeves when he's with you. When he's at work.

"I saw your file," you start to chitchat over breakfast one day.

"I reckon."

He won't even touch the coffee you poured him but proceeds to drink almost all the tea. The delicate china looks miniature in his hands as he pours the Earl Grey into his cup. The cups are dainty, too – this savage would prefer a large, black mug, perhaps, from which to gulp his tea.

"So. What made you become a soldier?"

"Joined the SAS when I was 17."

And another thing he won't do is look at you when you speak. No manners at all in this man, only rough, sharp edges. He sits as far from you as he can, at the other end of the table, as if you were in a meeting. Or a war council.

"That's not what I asked."

"I know."

You roll your eyes. Conversation skills, god. Just give this man at least some charm…

"I'm going to do some shopping," you declare. "You can stay here."

Finally, he raises his stare. It's full of tired distaste.

"Nah. That's not how this works."

You rise from the table, gracefully and with a neutral face, indicating that you are an adult and won't be needing a babysitter at a store.

"Lady."

The command is dark and stops you before you have taken one step from the table. It's a slur, almost.

He rises from the table too, and you almost feel sorry, noticing he hasn't yet finished his toast.

"You hired me. And I'm gonna do my job."

He looks big and broad, like a beautiful storm, with that piercing stare and the most alluring lashes you have ever seen on a man. Your voice turns into a meek, pitched attempt to reason with a giant.

"...I'm just going shopping."

His head tilts with a mock: you're only a child in his eyes.

"Then let's go shopping."

…......…......

Sitting next to this giant in a taxi must be a hilarious-looking scene. A charming, vibrant lady and a sullen, intimidating Theseus – what a pair.

You've also never been this close to him. The man always sits with a wide spread. One heavy thigh almost touches your knees, which you have turned towards him for some unfathomable reason. You were taught to sit with knees closely set together, and that’s what you’re trying to do now: make yourself as small and feminine as possible. It only accentuates this man's size compared to yours. There's a pile of shopping bags between you two, and your gaze is directed outside the window, but you can feel his presence like there's a thrumming monolith beside you.

And he's always dressed in black. You kind of enjoyed how you two looked at the store: you in your heels and a pearl white suit, he in black, tactical ripstop and boots. You wouldn't define the man well-dressed… but he is sharply dressed in his own field, that's for sure. Even a commoner like you could see that.

He had complained about your clothes. White draws too much attention and makes for a bigger target. You had brushed him off with a scoff. You’re not going to change the way you dress because of this.

"You're from Manchester, right?"

You're only trying to make the journey home more enjoyable, but feel like you're snooping again, this time from the man himself. The less you know about Simon Riley, the more you want to learn who he is. It is only natural to get a little curious when his file barely had two paragraphs and a photo. You suppose even that single picture was taken and given forward with reluctance.

And the only thing you learn is that small talk is a completely foreign concept to this man.

"You're quite the Sherlock," he mutters with that fat accent that gave him away the minute you two shook hands. You Sherlock about some more, look at the left hand that rests on his thigh.

There's no ring. Not even a tan line. He must be lonely: no relationship could stand working hours like these.

"Do you still live there?"

"...No."

"Do you miss the place?"

"No."

The short answers are guttural and spoken from the back of his throat. You don't know if he's doing it on purpose, or if this Simon is like this with everyone. He's not annoyed, though, not the way you're beginning to be.

"Aren't you a chatty one…" you mumble while watching cloudy London pass by. You figured he might hear it, and perhaps that was your purpose, even if your voice was barely a whisper.

"I'm not here to talk. Ma'am."

…......…......

You are told to stay away from the windows. The dinner table is moved so no one can aim at your head through a glass. And even then, most curtains must be closed at all times.

He goes through doors first, and advises against going out at all. You get a list of things you should take into consideration if you do go out.

And you’re not going to give in to fear.

You simply take different routes to your friends and family, have lunches at different restaurants than usual. He says you should get an armored car, but you don’t have a license. Of course your brooding bodyguard could drive, but what will you do with some armored tank after you're finally through this thing?

What's far more interesting is that it turns out this Simon Riley is a smoker.

Disgusting, you think at first, then think about him all sweaty and grimy after some gunfight, reaching for a cig, curling those thick fingers around a pure-white coffin nail. No, wait – he had gloves in that picture; he wouldn't bother to take them off before he smoked, he would just lean on his gun and on some crumbling wall and sigh from the joy of being alive, of being bloodied and dirty and victorious before taking a long drag from his cigarette.

Ugh.

Reluctantly you agree that perhaps there is an odd charm to this man after all. Either that, or then you are in need of some serious therapy.

Breakfasts are torturingly quiet with Simon, and you can hear the slow roll of eyes every time you make plans to go to a party or an art gallery.

Once, a zipper gets stuck and you have to ask him for help. It’s mortifying, and he doesn’t say a word, only mocks you with his eyes as you turn around for him to place a warm hand on your hip and another on your back to pull up the zipper you had fought to reach and drag up by yourself for at least 10 minutes.

A week passes, and he’s buried in work, not only because he’s guarding your body 24/7, but because he’s trying to locate the hitman. The fact that Simon Riley is technically speaking a hitman too - to think that you have hired a killer - is something you don’t have the mental strength to delve into right now.

"Found the one who's hunting you."

Another file is dropped before you at the end of the week. The man marches into your office like there's no door there at all. Doesn't even bother to knock.

This isn't what you meant when you politely told him to make himself home…

You roll the glass of water on your temple and sigh. The file reveals another photo, this time of a man who looks like an executioner.

"Goes by the name König," he says and clasps his hands over his crotch while taking a wide stance in front of your desk. "Austrian war criminal. Skilled with knives… Likes to torture people first."

Nice. More brutes.

"Why are you telling me this?"

You're tired, there's a headache approaching, and you really don't care to go over some details about a professional lunatic killer right now. But Simon Riley - codenamed Ghost, you’ve lately learned - looks down at you like a storm cloud over a carefree meadow.

"Because you clearly don't understand the danger you're in."

He adds "Ma'am" as a footnote. Purposely forgotten...

And you wish he would forget that silly, overly courteous term.

"Well–" you sigh your frustration in the air between you two, then realize that perhaps you're being treated like a child because you behave like one. "What are you going to do about this man...?"

"Gonna kill him," he simply shrugs, the eternal, distant look in those eyes gaining a smug tone to them.

He enjoys this. Enjoys killing, but what's even worse, enjoys seeing how his ruthlessness makes you shift uncomfortably in your chair. Or perhaps he just likes shocking you with that file with an image of a lyncher in it. You know perfectly well that you're in trouble and under threat. That's what you've tried to forget, but no one lets you forget.

Simon takes a deep breath before placing his humble petition before you.

"Ma’am. I'm gonna need your help."

And nothing in this man is humble. Even though he rarely speaks and never shows his talents, not to talk of showing off, he reeks of pride and testosterone.

You set the glass on the table and straighten the file to align with the leather pad on your desk. Your fingers are not trembling. Yet.

"What do you mean?"

He gives a hoarse laugh. The sound drills straight to your core and starts to bloom there. You realize you have never seen him smile before. And he's not smiling now: the short laugh is just a dark chuckle that mainly stays inside his chest; it only makes those stocky shoulders rise and fall.

"Not like that," he looks down at you with a tad of mercy. "You're gonna serve as bait."

"Isn't… that what I've been the whole time?"

"Yeah. But this time, we're gonna lure him in."

The way he talks makes your thighs rub together without your consent. You wonder what it would feel like if you were trapped between that solid chest and a wall, what it would be like if those hands woke you up with a calloused caress of a thigh.

You don't quite understand the difference between bait and a lure but find yourself willing to do whatever you can to help him. Help Simon…

"Sure... I'll help you," you say as if this man wasn't on your payroll.

"That's the least you could do."

That barely hidden bite in his dry retort doesn't escape you. This man's audacity buries whatever odd want you have started to feel for him and replaces it with searing, womanly fury.

He could be a little more sensitive.

You're the one who has a target on their back. You're the one who fears going to sleep at night and feels lucky they're alive come dawn. If he wasn't so crude and uncaring, you would've asked him to sleep in the same room with you from the start. But he has to be a brute, has to follow and mock you with those ink blot eyes at every turn.

You rise from the chair when he turns and walks toward the door. It's almost a snappy jump, an attempt to reclaim your power. You're sore and thoroughly peeved.

"I never wanted this," you tell him with an annoying timbre in your tone. He stops right before the door but doesn't turn.

"Neither did I."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Could be somewhere warmer with no damsels giving me their cheek."

The BDU blouse you saw in that picture was yellow, burnt yellow. Desert wear… He wants to be in a hot desert with a cold gun in his hand. Dropped straight from some plane, working alone, in a place where damsels aren't giving him their cheek. Where there are no damsels at all.

You're relatively sure there is no Mrs. Riley. No woman could stand this man.

"Then go somewhere warmer," you snap, almost stomp your heel on the soft carpet. This man is simply intolerable. The way he never reacts to anything makes you want to throw things at him.

He must be trained to be so calm, but you're not. You're used to making men a little stupid and flustered. You're used to men eating out of your hand. He's not behaving at all like he's supposed to. Simon Riley is just a mountain without emotion.

He turns with that eternal, downgrading look in his eyes. There's a flash of amusement there, too.

Soddy bastard…

"Nah. Not until I've done my job."

His voice is warm now; the gruff and gravel make way to a smoothness that goes directly to your knees. Your lips part, and his eyes fall on your mouth just before he lifts his chin a hair of an inch.

"Your job…" you breathe, too furious to even rage or shout.

Your fucking job.

Why did you even want this job if it's so–

"Yeah. My job. Some people got one."

You have to take support from the table with your fingertips.

"Excuse me?"

There's the tiniest curve at the corner of his mouth before he takes his leave.

"Good night, ma'am."

…......…......

The next day, you start the breakfast by apologizing.

You barely slept that night, first because of this man's utter nerve, then because your wrath eventually cooled down into a bleeding consciousness of how you must look in his eyes.

He has accepted this job, something different from what he usually does, for reasons unknown to you. He might not be on some faraway battlefield where bullets fly past, but this is no less risky. The picture he showed you, the file on König, haunted your restless sleep last night – when you finally did get some sleep.

You have been running around like everything’s normal when it’s not. The man’s just trying to do his job.

And you're the one who hired him. Not your lawyer.

"I want to make peace," you coo while spreading some jam on toast. You expect Simon to finally melt a little. You might even get a smile. You secretly hope your reward is that this brute turns into a tamed lap dog you can feed some treats every now and then.

The situation is thrilling: the beefiest man you have ever seen is going to kill someone for you. Even if he's being paid to do so, he is prepared to die for you. There's something incredibly sexy about that.

But there is silence at the other end of the table. Only the crunchy sounds of toast getting sugar on top can be heard.

"That so?"

He doesn't sound like he's melting. He doesn't sound at all domesticated. He only sounds more and more amused.

"Yes. I'm happy that you're here," you put the toast down and turn to look at him with angel eyes.

He laughs. When he stops, he looks you up and down, then laughs some more, a silent, shoulder-shaking chuckle.

"I'm… I'm serious," you hurry to add. "I mean it. I haven't been treating you the way I should–"

"That's for sure."

You see more warmth in those eyes. But it's not because of your humble apology.

His eyes are trekking down the neckline of your blouse, and to your horror, you notice – feel – how one of the top buttons has opened, revealing much more than just some skin. You're pretty sure he gets an ample view of the fuchsia bra you're wearing underneath.

If you reach for that button now, you underline that he's not supposed to look, even if it's your mistake that you're so obscenely exposed. If you close it now, you tell him he's not allowed to look. And that's not entirely true.

"Will you forgive me?"

You feel like you're offering peace, or at least a truce, with more than just that peepy question. Because your breasts swell inside that blouse. They rise and fall with your breaths, your nipples grow hard from that look that stays down a bit longer before drifting back up.

"There's nothing to forgive," he says, voice dropping a note or two.

"Good," you swallow. The following sentence comes out so weakly that it's almost a whisper. "After all, I hired you."

"Ain't that the truth."

The dim glint in those eyes still holds you as a prisoner, and his tea is growing cold.

"Are we going shopping today?"

"No," you utter, dreading the next inevitable question.

"What then?"

"I… I have a yoga class."

"Of course you do."

…......…......

Taglist: @cumikering

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod fanfic #mw2 fanfic #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x female reader #ghost x female reader #bodyguard au #bodyguard!Ghost

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ghostlychief · 4 months

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maybee a nsfw beach day with Simon? All of 141 goes out to the beach and has a water balloon fight or something fun and ofc reader if wearing a bikini and isss HOTT and yk Simon gets a little jealous since the rest of 141 (especially Johnny) was giving glances up on down so he goes and claims what’s his 😛

love your writing hope everything is going okay in your life !!!!!💞🦔

thank you so much! I hope everything is going okay in your life too <3 I'm so sorry for the late reply to your request, i know this was sent in months ago. I hope you enjoy what i threw together <3

---

sun-kissed

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

wc: ~1,627

warnings: NSFW, SMUT, MINORS DNI; fingering, heavily making out, missionary, implied creampie, unprotected sex

---

You should have known that multiple eyes would be following you throughout the day when you decided to wear your hot pink bikini that left little to the imagination. It just so happened that those “multiple eyes” were Simon’s friends and colleagues from work, aka task force 141.

Could anyone really blame you though? You were on a tropical beach, you were young and pretty, and you had curves in all the right places. Of course, you wanted to pack your sexiest and brightest bathing suits. And also, it’s not your problem that men can’t keep their eyes off you. Nope, not your problem at all. You’re simply existing, and doing nothing wrong except wanting to enjoy the pleasant beach.

So, here you were, just minding your business laying on the beach, enjoying the sunrays and summer breeze, completely unaware of your brooding boyfriend sitting next to you in a beach chair. Earlier, you tried to convince Simon to lie down and sun bathe with you, but he politely declined and opted to sit in a chair instead, with a hat and sunglasses on to cover his face.

You weren’t oblivious to the stares some of the 141 men gave you. Some tried to be more subtle about it, and others seemed to have slipped into a trance, completely unaware that they have been more or less looking at you for a good minute (Johnny).

You never gave a reaction or said anything to any of them, because you really didn’t care what they thought of you. Again, you were only there to enjoy the beach and spend time with your boyfriend.

You thought you heard Simon mutter “Fucking hell,” at some point, but you’re unsure if you were just hearing things and continued to lay in the sun, with the breeze caressing your hair.

An hour or two later, you’re sharing the umbrella with Simon, sitting on towels, eating a small lunch when Johnny, aka “Soap,” jogs up to you guys with a volleyball in hand.

He smiles at you guys, and if you were paying closer attention, you would have noticed that his smile was slightly strained and that his throat bobbled a couple times as he looked at Simon.

“Do you guys want to join us for a round of volleyball?” His question seemed innocent enough to you, so you eagerly answered, “Yeah! I’m down.” You turn to Simon and your smile drops a little when you notice he’s kind of glaring at Johnny. Weird.

Simon looks at you for a second, his eyes softening a hair, but then he turns back to Johnny and they’re hard again. His voice is gruff as he explains, “Actually, I think we were going to go back to the house for a break. Y/N’s been laying in the sun for a while, and I could use a good AC break.”

Your eyebrows furrow, and you open your mouth to protest, but Simon cuts in again, “Right, Y/N?”

He’s giving you a strained look, and you just nod, and then look back up at Johnny. “Yeah, Simon’s right. I could use a break. We can play next game.”

Johnny looks between you and Simon before saying his goodbyes then runs off to where the other 141 men are, all waiting to start the game.

You and Simon start to pack up your lunch, and you harshly whisper, “What was that about?” Once all packed, you guys start walking back to the house, which is only a five minute walk.

“Literally, all of those men have been gawking at you the whole day. I don’t think there’s been one moment where one of them has not been looking at you.”

You let his words sink in for a moment, and you realize that he was right. I didn’t do anything to make him feel insecure, did I? No, no I didn’t. You quickly shake those thoughts out of your head because you didn��t give anyone any attention besides Simon. Guilt still slowly creeps through you even though you did nothing, but you understand why Simon feels upset.

You rest your hand on his bicep, the motion signaling him to stop walking and he turns to face you. You look up at your boyfriend, and you’re still taken aback by how good looking he is. The sun has slightly tanned his skin to perfection, and has lighted his hair so that blonde highlights reflect brightly in the sunlight. The tan that developed on his arms accentuates his brawny muscles and his forearm tattoo, looks darker, and more contrasting than before. Basically, summer is a good look on Simon, and you love to see your boyfriend let loose and enjoy himself for once.

Your voice is soft as you ask, “Are you okay?” You leave your hand on his arm, hoping to provide some level of comfort to your boyfriend. He lets out a sigh, but then gives you a small smile, “Of course. Sorry, I didn’t mean for this to get me wound up. I was just feeling annoyed at all of them.”

You grant him a nod, understanding his point of view. He continues, “They have no fucking shame, those bastards.” This makes you laugh and you say, “Agreed, no shame at all.” This makes Simon laugh and you both continue walking to the house.

Once there, you ask, “So, what’s the real reason why you wanted to bring me back to the house while everyone was still at the beach?” Your eyebrows are quirked up, and you have a shit-eating grin on your face.

“So I can do this!” Simon quickly grabs you and picks you up bridal style, which has you squealing in shock and you’re laughing. He takes you to your room and kicks the door shut before placing you on the bed.

“Ahhhh, I see now.” You’re still grinning like a fool in love and Simon leans down to hover over you, hands braced on either side of your head.

He’s smiling then he finally closes the gap between you, and kisses you. The kiss quickly deepens and his tongue slips into your mouth, while his hand trails down your stomach and dips down in your bikini bottoms. He runs two fingers down and up your slit, and you’re already wet from his touch. He preps you with one finger, slowly pumping in and out as he continues to make out with you. Your hands are roaming his shoulders and down his arms before traveling down to tug at the hem of his shirt.

He helps you remove his tank top, and he goes back to kissing you, and then adds a second finger. The stretch feels heavenly, and you’re letting out the prettiest moans that he’s swallowing with his kisses. You figure you should return the favor, so your hand dips under his waistband and you grab his length, pumping up and down.

His thumb flicks over your clit, and you feel your high build and build, threatening to drop any minute. When it finally hits you, hot waves of pleasure wash over your body and Simon starts kissing down you neck, gently nipping at your skin. He kisses your collar bones, then makes his way back up your neck until he’s on your lips again. He swiftly removes your top, followed by your bottoms and you do the same for him by removing his swimming shorts.

Simon kisses down your chest and leaves small, quick kisses all over your stomach, which makes your heart flutter. He rubs your clit in soothing circles with two fingers and then leans down and spits, adding more lubrication. He moves back up your body, kissing you behind your ear as you continue to pump him. You voice to him that you’re ready, and you guide him into you, and he enters you slowly, taking in the full stretch of him.

Once settled, he starts moving, setting a generous rhythm which has your high building up again and quickly. Your trace your hands down his abs, feeling the distinct ridges of each muscle, and then trace them along the hard planes of his arms. His fingers continue to rub you, and the feeling of his hands plus his dick moving in and out of you has you reach your high quickly, waves of pleasure washing over you once again.

You’re heavily panting and he soon follows, he too breathing heavily. His head is dipped, and you bring your hands up to cup either side of his face, so that he’s looking at you. Grinning at him you confess, “I love you.” You admit this while he’s softening inside of you, and he lets out a chuckle, “I love you too.”

You guys clean up and put your bathing suits back on, getting ready to go back to the beach.

“So, what are they odds that they’ll know we just had sex?” You see Simon look slightly above you, no doubt looking at the state of your hair. Subconsciously, you start to smooth it down, and you guys begin walking to the beach, hand in hand.

“I don’t really care what they know. They’re nosy fucks, and maybe now they won’t feel comfortable gawking at my girlfriend.” You think it’s kind of cute that he’s a little jealous, but you refrain from giggling at his statement, so you just smile and squeeze his hand. “No worries, babe, I only have eyes for you.” You give Simon an over-exaggerated wink, and his only response is a large laugh.

Once back at the beach, you join everyone in the volleyball game, and you can’t help but notice how many times Simon spikes the ball over the net, right at Johnny’s face.

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readingandwritingandreading · 10 months

Text

From The Ground Up ~ Part 1

My Blurb: Welcome to my Drew story! I have had this one sitting on the shelf for awhile now and I am excited that the events of Money in the Bank provided me with the perfect way to start it. This will involve ABO dynamics and include others from the WWE roster. Each “faction” in WWE will be considered a pack for story purposes. My taglist and inbox are always open!

Disclaimer: Alas, I own nothing.

Summary: Drew’s been in the wrestling business a long time and seen his fair share of Alpha & Omega drama. He’s certain when he finds his Omega this won’t be a problem, until the scent of cherries and orchids fill his senses and Cassidy Riley strolls into his life and he realizes a real relationship has to be built from the ground up.

Pairing: Alpha Drew McIntyre x Omega OFC Cassidy Riley

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics

Status: In Progress

Tagging: @pioched | @ashes-writing | @cherrytheeredheadmamaclaymore | @thebookwormcat

Check Out my Other Stories: Here!

I laughed when Kayla rolled her eyes at Pete's antics before signing off the kickoff show. It was officially time for Money in the Bank. The first one ever to take place in England and my first time being on a premium live event. I had been called up from my backstage interviewer position in NXT to the main roster shortly after Wrestlemania. Since then I have done some segments on Raw and Smackdown and even been the in ring announcer at some live events.

I checked my notes as the opening started playing and the crowd started cheering. The Men’s money in the bank match was first, followed by the women’s tag titles and then the Intercontinental title match. I headed to my first interview spot with fan favorite LA Knight.

“Let me talk to ya Cassidy!” he greeted in his boisterous way when the director signaled the start. I heard the crowd roar as we appeared on the jumbotron.

“LA Knight, do you feel prepared for tonight’s battle?” I moved the microphone closer to him as he whipped off his sunglasses.

He grinned at me before turning to the camera, “I only have one word for ya, YEAH!” he said and I heard the echo of the crowd repeating his phrase before he headed towards the ring.

The cameraman signaled we were done and I turned towards catering in search of water before my next segment. Kayla found me on the way and gave me a big hug. “You did it! Your first live interview on a Pay Per View!” she gushed, looping her arm in mine.

“Don’t you mean Premium Live Event?” I questioned with a laugh, causing her to roll her eyes. They were really pushing for the name change but too many people had spent most of their lives calling it a pay per view and it was going to be awhile before that changed.

I stopped suddenly causing Kayla to stumble. “What the hell…” she trails off taking in my frozen posture. “Cas are you ok?

I shiver as the scent of coffee with a hint of forest and something else that I can’t quite place rolls through me. She shakes my arm and I snap out of it. “Oh, sorry, what? Must be hungrier than I thought. Did catering get a new coffee? It smells amazing.”

Kayla looks at me like I grew an extra head, sniffing the air before replying, “I don’t smell anything but maybe I’m still stopped up from being sick last week.” She says it slowly and I give her a reassuring smile before continuing our trek.

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

“Listen fella, I'm not thrilled that you’re going for the title I want but until I'm back in the running you can count on us to have your back against the Imperium pack.” Sheamus clapped his hand on my shoulder and I nodded in appreciation. I had been out of action since Wrestlemania and they were some of the very few who knew I would be making a comeback tonight. The Brawling Brutes were the closest I had to my own pack. Sheamus was their head alpha, Ridge, an alpha in his own right, was his second in command and Butch the third Alpha. Finding their Omegas had filled out the rest of their pack but it had been a dramatic and hard fought journey. Though we had bickered many times, I trusted them to have my back.

“How are they doing with their mates?” I nodded to the two younger alphas. Ridge was lending silent support to Butch whose mate looked like she was about to burst into tears. I could almost smell the worry radiating off her. Ladder matches could be brutal, I kinda felt for the girl.

“Cameron is taking it the hardest, poor thing had barely watched any wrestling when they met. Isabella and Lucy have been helping her adjust but she’s just as headstrong and stubborn as Petey boy.” Sheamus shrugged, “There’s always a learning curve when you find your mate.” He raised his eyebrow at me.

I rolled my eyes at him, I was confident when I found my mate everything would fall into place. No drama or “learning curve”. If fate had decreed it, how else could it go? Sheamus never failed to try and remind me that’s not how it always is but I shrugged him off. If I had to wait this long, it was going to be a breeze. I wished Butch good luck before heading to get ready for my return, I was set to come out after the Intercontinental title match.

Hand on the door to my locker room I froze as a scent rolled over me. It was a mouthwatering mix of orchids, cherries and something else that flew around my brain but didn’t quite land. I surveyed the area, the instinct inside of me howling to investigate, but nothing caught my eye. Shaking my head I continued into the room to get ready.

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

“You’re trembling, are you sure you’re ok?” Kayla asked for the fifth time since we had left catering.

“I think so, I just feel…off, I guess. Like I should be doing something.” I replied. Ever since that scent had hit me, I had felt like a live wire, my body thrumming with anticipation.

“Cassidy, on in 30 seconds, they are heading up the ramp.” the director said. I nodded, giving a reassuring smile to Kayla before standing in my spot. I was set to interview the winners of the match when they came through. Riddle had met them at the entrance, high fiving them before heading to the ring. Raquel and Liv burst through the curtain, all smiles as they headed over to me.

“Raquel and Liv, congratulations on your victory and becoming the new WWE Women’s Tag Team Champions. I have to ask though, do you think you could have done it without Shayna’s shocking betrayal on Ronda?” I held out the microphone to them while Imperium made their entrance behind us.

Raquel leaned in, “It doesn’t matter what happened between Ronda and Shayna, we were always going to get these back.”

“Shayna saw a sinking ship and bailed, honestly after the way Ronda has taken over since she came back, I don’t blame her a bit.” Liv chimed in. “But like Raquel said, these are our titles and we won’t be backing down from any challengers.”

They headed off and I smiled after them until the camera man gave me the thumbs up. Sagging with relief, I rolled my neck and shoulders trying to relieve some of the tension. Kayla shot me another worried look before heading off to her next interview. I turned to look at the schedule when the scent invaded the room again. Spinning quickly I scanned the room, my eyes landing on Drew McIntyre staring at me and breathing hard, my trembling increased.

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

Adrenaline was coursing through my veins as I pulled my black tank top on and dampened my hair. Part of it was to get back in the ring but the rest was that instinct demanding I find that scent. I hadn’t felt it this strongly before and I stared at my hand that was practically trembling.

A knock on the door followed by one of the stagehands announcing it was almost my turn had me taking a deep breath and forcing my hand into a fist to slow the tremors. This was my big return and I couldn’t let nerves or whatever this was get to me.

With that in mind I opened the door and headed out. The closer I got to gorilla, the more the scent called to me and the faster I walked, I was almost sprinting when I finally got there. It was more potent now, the cherry and orchids surrounding me with undertones of peaches. I pulled the curtain aside and my eyes locked on the new backstage announcer as I stepped in the room. I had seen her before, she had been in NXT but was moved up after Wrestlemania.

She tensed before turning and scanning the room, her brown eyes widening when she saw me staring at her. I started moving towards her, making a slow perusal of her body. Her long legs looked stunning in a pair of black heels and her skin glowed against the maroon lace dress. Mate, mine. The thoughts swarmed my head as I made eye contact with her.

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

His scent surrounded me, coffee and the woods all combined into thoughts that rang out through my brain. Warmth, safety, home, MATE.

His eyes flashed gold when our eyes met and I didn't need the gasps around me to tell me mine did too. I felt the connection click into place. Drew McIntyre is my alpha.

A growl escaped his throat as he stalked closer, driving me back until my back hit the wall and he pressed his face to my neck. I trembled again, partly from fear and partly from his closeness. I couldn’t see past him to the rest of the room. His arms were caging me in and my hands pressed to his chest of my own violation.

Struggling with the urge to either push him away or grab him, I whimpered when he pulled his face back to look at me again, one hand cupping my face. “My Omega” whispered in his accent caused me to tremble again, the wall and my grip on his shirt the only things keeping me up right.

“Drew, you’re on. Drew!” Hunter’s voice pulled us out of our staredown and I was suddenly reminded that we were in a room full of people and most of them were staring at us. Blushing I tried to pull away but Drew held me close, growling lowly and glaring at everyone like they were a threat.

Hunter held his hands up, “Your music is about to hit, she will be safe here until you return.”

Drew seemed to snap out of it at that, turning back to me slowly. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to my forehead before releasing me and walking out the curtain as his music sounded and the fans started screaming.

Hunter and Stephanie rushed toward me immediately, grabbing my arm when I started to sway. “Holy shit Cassidy! Drew McIntyre is your mate?!” Stephanie practically shrieked.

“Um.., can I sit down please. I need to sit down.” My voice was shaky even to my own ears.

“Of course, take the rest of the show off, Kayla can take over.” Hunter replied, rubbing my arm. I nodded weakly as black started encroaching my vision. I heard them yelling for the med team before I completely passed out.

#micole writes things now #drew mcintyre #drew mcintyre x OFC #alpha!drew #alpha!drew mcintyre #money in the bank #from the ground up

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yeenybeanies · 1 year

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This is the Way I Pray | Chapter 1: Sunday

not the usual type of writing i put here (aka not G/t), but i felt possessed by the ghost of a new cod oc, & it compelled me to write enough words to fill 45 pages of google docs @@~@@ next call of duty | wayne "champ" champagne (oc), john "soap" mactavish, simon "ghost" riley, john price, nikolai 13,659 words strong language, canon-typical violence, transphobic & homophobic language (contained to a small section), tobacco & alcohol use thanks for reading!! patreon ✨ ko-fi ✨ read it on ao3 for some more notes

Touchdown. Camp Sasha. A small US Marine Corps base in Kentucky, not far from Lexington.

Soap was up first, grabbing his gear pack and travel bag. Ghost followed suit, the two of them heading to disembark through the opening cargo door. The summer air hit them hard, almost like an ocean wave of heat and humidity. It almost made the lieutenant flinch, the intensity of it.

They were here on a mission, the two of them, at Price’s order. Laswell had heard whispers of possible terrorist activity in the area—the goings down of some weapons deal between Ultranationalists and a yet-unknown American government official.

Normally, a mission like this would be left to a less-specialized team, but the involvement of an official necessitated a finer set of tools. More precision. More power.

Upon landing, they were to meet up with one of Nikolai’s men. Price and Laswell seemed to know of him, but neither Ghost nor Soap had heard of this “Champ” before. He was an American man, ex-marine. In Nikolai’s words, he was the “best damn sharpshooter” he’d ever seen.

Something in that statement made Soap a little jealous, but he kept that to himself.

Out on the tarmac, the two made their way towards their welcoming committee. Ghost stopped abruptly in his tracks, prompting Soap to do the same. The sergeant’s brows furrowed inquisitively.

“Is that a fucking horse?” Ghost asked.

“A what…?” Soap followed his gaze, finding the… the literal horse in question. It was a massive beast, its fur a shaggy black. It stood facing away from them on the tarmac about fifty feet ahead. Astride it was a man sporting a cowboy hat, leather chaps, and cowboy boots. The whole cowboy outfit. Soap snorted. “No way… Thought we left Los Vaqueros back in Mexico.”

“Tell me that’s not Nikolai’s man. Fucking hell…” Ghost shook his head, and resumed walking.

Nikolai had also mentioned that his guy was eccentric. That they’d know him when they saw him.

Soap took the lead and approached first, calling out a few feet behind the horse. “Er… Corporal Champagne?”

The cowboy first looked back over his shoulder, one dark brow raised over his reflective aviator sunglasses. The lower half of his face was hidden under a red paisley bandana. He tugged on the reins, swinging his steed and himself around to face them.

“You must be the fellas from 141,” he said. His voice was friendly, his accent full with a country twang. He tipped the brim of his hat in greeting. “Haven’t been a Corporal for a long time now, though. Wayne Champagne; call me Champ. I’m guessin’ Spooky here is Lieutenant Riley, which must mean you’re Sergeant MacTavish. Pleasure t’ meet’cha.” He leaned down, offering a gloved hand for both men to shake.

Soap shook first. “That’s right. You can call me Soap. He’s—” he glanced back at Ghost with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, but Ghost leveled him with a warning glare— “he’s the Ghost.”

“Soap n’ Ghost,” Champ repeated, “Niky spoke highly of you. Lookin’ forward to workin’ together.”

“Likewise,” Soap said. His eyes fell to the horse. “Can’t remember the last time I was this close to a horse. What’s this handsome lad’s name?”

Champ chuckled and shook his head. He gave his steed a hardy pat on the neck. “This here’s Danger. He ain’t a horse, though; he’s a mule . Go on an’ pet ‘im if ya like. He only bites when I tell ‘im to.”

Soap happily took up the offer, and held his hand out for the mule to sniff. “Danger, huh? Like the sound of that. What’s the difference between a mule and a horse?”

“Mule’s half horse, half donkey,” Champ explained. “If Danger n’ I got one thing in common, it’s that both of our daddies were real asses.”

Ghost actually huffed at that. It was barely noticeable, but it was a huff.

“C’mon,” Champ said, turning his mount around. He motioned for Soap’s duffel bag and hooked the handle onto his saddle horn, then did the same with Ghost’s. “We got a truck waiting that’ll take you to your accommodations. You’re here for a week, yeah?”

“That’s right,” Ghost said. He and Soap followed at Champ’s side, the cowboy leading them at an easy walk. “Work starts tomorrow at oh-eight hundred.”

Champ whistled a low note. “At least you’re getting tonight off. You boys ever been to Kentucky before?”

“I have,” Ghost answered.

“First for me,” Soap said. “But Ghost here tells me he loves Kentucky.” He knocked the lieutenant’s shoulder with his own, grinning up at him. “Says he’s a bourbon fan.”

“That right?” Champ asked. His eyes slid over, watching the lieutenant from his peripherals. “I’ll keep that in mind. No shortage of bourbon ‘round these parts, that’s for sure. We’re in Bourbon County.”

Ghost shot Soap a glare, and lightly shoved him back. “We’re not here to drink. We’ve got a job to do.”

Champ glanced back at the two. There was an amused crinkle around his eyes, only partially hidden behind his sunglasses. “Aw. All work, no play? That’s no fun.”

At the end of a tarmac, a truck sat idling. As they approached, a marine stepped out of the driver’s side and took the duffel bags from Champ to put in the back seat. She then met him with a fist bump, and gave their visitors a proper military salute.

“Gentlemen, this is Corporal Yeong. She’ll drive you to the hotel,” Champ said.

Soap, stepping up to the opened door next to Champ, regarded him with a confused look. “You’re not coming with us?” Ghost, who’d entered the back seat from the other side, peered out as well.

“Oh, I am, worry you not,” Champ said. There was a grin in his voice. He and Yeong exchanged knowing looks. “Matter of fact, I’m gonna race ya there. An’ I’m gonna beat ya.”

“It’s because he’s a dirty cheater,” Yeong said.

Champ shrugged without a care. He tipped his sunglasses down to look at Soap over the rim, and winked. “You can ride with me if ya like. Much faster’n this hunk a’ junk.”

“Johnny…” Ghost said from inside the cab. He sounded distrustful.

Soap looked between the Brit and Champ, a grin tugging at his lips. He dropped his pack in the truck and took the cowboy’s proffered hand. With a little help, climbed up to sit behind him in the saddle. He held his arms up awkwardly, unsure of where to put them, until Champ guided him to circle them around his waist.

“Alright,” Champ said, eyeing Soap over his shoulder, “very important that you hold on tight, ‘kay? Don’t wanna lose you in the woods right after you just got here.”

“Got it. I’m good.” Soap tightened his hold just a little bit, realizing now that Champ was quite a bit smaller than he’d initially thought. Being up on the big-ass mule made him look huge. Champ nudged the truck door shut with his boot, and strode up to the driver side window. Yeong stared at the road, her fingers firm around the wheel.

“Pray for your friend,” she said. Ghost met her eyes in the rearview mirror, his brows furrowed. “It’s a crazy ride.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Johnny,” Ghost muttered. He leaned back in his seat, back hitting the cushion with a dull thump. They’d been in America not ten minutes, and he was already exasperated.

Where the hell did Nikolai find this guy?

Champ settled into his saddle, adjusting to the new weight behind him. Danger pawed at the road, his horseshoes scraping against the asphalt with a satisfying clack. “Steady now,” Champ cooed, more to Soap than to his steed.

In perfect unison, both truck and mule launched forward. Also in perfect unison, both passengers shouted alarmed expletives and held on for dear life, Soap squeezing around Champ’s waist and Ghost clinging to the handle above his window.

“Bloody—do you always do this?!” Ghost shouted, unsure if he should be glaring at Yeong or at Champ.

Yeong laid harder on the gas, the truck quickly overtaking the mule. There was a tight, satisfied smirk on her lips, but it lasted only a moment. “More often than you might think,” she answered. “I’ll admit, though, that Champ especially likes to do this when we get visitors.”

Soap hadn’t stopped cussing since they’d started sprinting. Champ grinned like a madman under his bandana, perfectly at home astride his hurtling mule, even with an inexperienced passenger. He watched the truck speed past them, unbothered. “Alright, Soap!” he shouted, giving the Scot’s arm a pat with his free hand, “things are about to get a little bumpy!”

“It’s already bloody bumpy!” he yelled back. Champ couldn’t see him, but he gleefully imagined the expression on Soap’s face.

“Hold on!” He tugged the reins, directing Danger to make a sharp turn off the asphalt road, onto a dirt trail leading into the forest behind the airfield.

From the truck, Ghost watched helplessly as his sergeant and the crazy fucking cowboy vanished beyond the treeline on that bloody mule.

Soap was just as helpless. As promised, the uneven trail was indeed bumpier than the road. He ducked every time they came upon a low-hanging branch, despite Champ’s assurance that nothing was low enough to smack him on this path.

“Where the hell are we going?” he asked, yelling over the wind in his ears and the adrenaline in his blood.

“Taking a shortcut,” Champ answered. “Yeong was right: I am a dirty cheater. We ain’t losin’ this race.”

The trail was well-worn, Soap noticed, but it was narrow and winding. Even still, Champ and Danger maneuvered it with expert precision. Danger didn’t so much as slip on the damp earth, nor did Champ miss a turn. They moved as if they were one being. And Soap was left holding on for dear life.

“You know your way around a gun, right?” Champ asked once they reached a relatively smooth stretch of trail. The question caught Soap off guard.

“What? ”

The cowboy reached for something to his left, under the leg of his saddle. Soap quickly realized that it was a rifle, and watched in astonishment as Champ pulled it out. “Got a target up ahead if you wanna take a shot.”

Soap peered over his shoulder to get a better look at the firearm. It was a bolt action rifle. Beautiful piece, really. Were they not zipping through the forest on a runaway mule, he would have been happy to try it out. But alas, “Mate, I’m barely hangin’ on back here!”

Shooting from a helicopter or a truck was one thing, but horseback was a different beast entirely.

Champ, still completely unbothered, only shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He dropped the reins—much to Soap’s alarm—and shouldered the rifle. He switched the safety off, yanked the bolt handle to chamber a bullet, and took aim. Soap followed his gaze to a human-shaped target set up a ways down the path.

Boom.

Soap’s jaw dropped. There was a new hole in the dummy’s head that hadn’t been there before.

Boom.

And another in its chest.

“Holy shit…!” Soap shouted. Two perfect kill shots on horseback… from a distance! Champ chuckled, taking plenty of pleasure in his passenger’s awe.

“Last chance, Scotty. We’re almost through.” Champ held the rifle by the forestock, offering it again to Soap. “I hear you’re a helluva shot too.”

Aw, hell. That sounded like a challenge. Well, he couldn’t just let this cowboy show off without at least trying. Soap pried one arm away from Champ’s waist and took the rifle, but he hesitated to release his other. Sensing his apprehension, Champ, after taking the reins again, reached his free arm around Soap’s back, offering him a point of security. He ducked down low, almost lying against Danger’s neck, to give Soap more room to aim. Soap flicked off the safety, chambered a bullet, took a breath…

Boom!

Champ howled in delight. “Hell yeah! You got it! Good shit!”

Soap lowered the rifle and flicked the safety back on. He had hit it. Caught the dummy right in the shoulder. He huffed. On one hand, he knew he could do better. His marksmanship is what earned him his damn nickname! But, on the other hand, he’d never had to shoot anything from horseback before.

“Alright, Scotty.” Champ patted Soap’s thigh, then took the rifle back and shoved it back into place under his saddle. Soap wrapped his arms around his waist again. “We’re comin’ up on a jump. Gonna need you to hold on real’ tight.”

“A what—?” A jump?! Soap felt his heart leap into his throat. He was still kinda-sorta getting used to the galloping, and now he had to deal with a jump?!

“I got a feelin’ your spooky friend’ll skin me alive if I let you fall n’ crack your head open. So put the squeeze on, partner; you won’t hurt me none.”

The jump in question was a deep, rapidly approaching ditch. On the other side of it was the treeline and the road. Soap cursed under his breath, pressed his chest to Champ’s back, and sent a silent prayer to whoever might be listening. His hold tightened around Champ to the point that he thought he might crush the smaller man when he felt the mule’s hooves leave the ground. For a brief moment, it felt like they were flying. It was as euphoric as it was fucking terrifying. And then it wasn’t very euphoric at all. As soon as they landed on the other side of the ditch, pain shot up through his groin. A strangled noise erupted from his throat. He doubled over as much as he could, head pressed between Champ’s shoulder blades.

“ Ach—Champ, my fuckin balls…!” he whimpered. Tears welled in his eyes.

Champ snorted. “Oop, sorry about that, partner. Should’a warned ya about the drop.”

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus, we better fuckin’ win after all this…!”

“We will,” Champ said confidently, patting Soap’s arm. They burst through the treeline, the hotel in the near distance. Champ pointed to a truck tearing down the road, much further away than they were. “See your friend! We got this.” He dug his heels into Danger’s ribs, spurring the mule on even faster—something Soap hadn’t thought possible at this point. Oh, but it was. They shot forward like a speeding train. Danger’s heavy breaths reached his ears over the whipping wind, snorting with every powerful stride he took.

In a matter of seconds, horseshoes met asphalt once more. Champ pulled on the reins, bringing Danger to a skidding halt. Soap could swear that he saw sparks coming from the mule’s hooves.

“Hold on, Scotty,” the cowboy said, his free arm reaching back around to hold Soap in place. He gave the reins another tug and clicked his tongue, prompting Danger up onto his hind legs with a triumphant bray. As he came back down to earth, the truck slowed to a stop a few feet away.

Soap breathed out a heavy sigh, his hold on Champ going slack. He leaned his weight onto the cowboy a bit more as he tried to catch his breath. Champ knocked his knee with a fist and a chuckle.

“Alright back there, Soldier?”

“My balls are killin’ me, mate,” Soap said, the stain clear in his voice. That got a bark of laughter from Champ. Soap dismounted with some assistance, but his knees buckled as soon as his feet touched the ground.

Ghost stepped out of the vehicle with both his and Soap’s bags. Even through his mask, he looked unimpressed. “You did this to yourself. On your feet, Sergeant,” he ordered.

“Gimme a sec, LT,” Soap said, still gasping for air. “God, I’ve been through less painful helicopter crashes.”

“Aw, it wasn’t that bad,” Champ chided playfully.

Soap scoffed. Slowly, he stood up, his legs shaking under him. “Next time,” he said, pointing to Ghost, “you’re riding with him.”

“Fat chance of that.” Ghost shoved Soap’s bags into his arms.

Champ pointed to the hotel doors. “Check in at the counter. I believe you’ve got a two-bed room to share.”

“Sounds good,” Ghost said with a nod. He gave Soap’s shoulder a push to get him moving. Champ couldn’t help but smirk at the Scot’s bow-legged walk.

“See you fellas later tonight,” the cowboy said with a tip of his hat.

He hung back to speak with Yeong, leaving Ghost and Soap to enter the hotel alone. Once they got checked in and received their key cards, they headed to their room. Soap didn't voice his complaints of the new soreness he felt, but it was clear by the strain on his face and the change in his gait that he was hurting.

Ghost felt no sympathy.

In their room, Soap dropped his bag and all but collapsed onto the first bed, an arm draped over his eyes.

“That damn yank is out of his mind,” he said.

Ghost dropped his duffel on the second bed and sat down. “Truck ride wasn’t much better. Thought that corporal was gonna flip the damn thing.”

“Fuckin Americans,” Soap groaned. Ghost echoed the sentiment.

Over the course of the next few hours, the two settled into their room—as much as either of them really could. They knew their trip here was a short one; they hadn't brought much by means of clothing and personal items as a result.

They checked in with Price via video call, letting him know that they’d made it to the US in one piece, albeit one of them more bruised than the other. Price, naturally, found the whole ordeal amusing.

“Nik told me that Champ was a wild one,” he said with a sniff. "Can’t believe you got on a horse named Danger with a guy that dresses like a fuckin’ cowboy.”

“Apparently Danger is a mule,” Soap retorted, a little annoyed with the teasing. He was never going to hear the end of this.

“Not that I don't trust Nik,” Price continued, tone shifting to something more serious, “but you boys think this bloke’s gonna be any help on your mission?”

Ghost shrugged. “Remains to be seen,” he said flatly. “All we know so far is how well he can ride a mule.”

“Actually, in the forest, I got to see a bit of his marksmanship,” Soap added. He adjusted how he sat on his bed, ignoring how it made him wince, and continued, “Man whipped out a bolt-action rifle and made a headshot from at least three hundred meters away on the back of a sprinting mule. Then he made another one center-chest immediately after.”

Price whistled, his brows raised. “Damn. Guess Nik wasn’t exaggerating when he said Champ was his best sharpshooter.”

Ghost, to most, looked blasé as ever, but Soap could tell that he was at least a little impressed.

“Well,” Price said, leaning away from the screen, “rest up tonight, boys. Work begins tomorrow.”

Soap and Ghost exchanged glances. “Not sure how much rest we’ll get,” the sergeant admitted. “Champ said earlier he was going to take us to a ‘right and proper rodeo.’” His imitation of Champ’s accent was poor, but it got a chortle out of Price regardless.

“As long as I don't get a call back saying that one of you broke your neck riding a fuckin’ bull,” he said.

“Won’t be me,” Ghost said, pointedly looking at Soap.

“Oi—I’m not goin’ near one of those monsters,” Soap said, sounding offended. “The mule was Danger enough.”

Ghost leveled him with a deadpan stare, which he met with a cheesy grin. It was a bad joke, of course, but he knew that Ghost secretly liked it.

They finished up their call with Price, then set out to explore the base that they’d be calling home for the next week. The heat of the Kentucky summer had them both drenched in sweat in no time. Soap took some comfort in seeing that it wasn’t just them suffering, though; all the marines in their full uniforms, even with their rolled-up sleeves, looked just as miserable. Some shot Ghost strange looks, likely wondering why the hell he was wearing a full balaclava in eighty-plus degree weather, but no one said anything.

After locating and wandering around the exchange and commissary for an hour, the two sought out the firing range. There was a scoreboard that Soap took particular interest in. He stood under the board, arms crossed, reading all the “W.C.”s that topped the charts for distance. He shook his head, muttering “There’s no way” under his breath. He turned to one of the range administrators, thumb pointed at one of the top scores. “Is this right? That’s Champ’s distance record?”

The administrator glanced up at the record in question. “Yep. Furthest bullseye we’ve seen here.”

“That’s, what, a mile and a half?” Soap stared at the number in disbelief. Ghost’s head whipped around as well, his eyes a bit wider than normal.

“Just about,” the administrator said. “Saw the shot myself. Kid’s one helluva sniper. Better than any SEAL or other special forces I’ve ever seen. Didn’t even have a spotter when he did that.”

“No fuckin’ way…” Soap grumbled. When was the last time he’d felt intimidated by someone else’s marksmanship?

“Good thing he’s on our side,” Ghost said.

“Aye, no shit…”

The two of them stayed at the range until mid afternoon. Soap tried his hand at usurping Champ’s record, refusing Ghost’s offer to play spotter. He didn’t get it, but he did still impress the administrator and other observing patrons by hitting the target at all. Soap grimaced, staring through his scope at the nick he’d left on the edge of the target. “Bastard,” he mumbled.

Even still, he did get to etch his initials into the board under Champ’s.

“Stay focused, Johnny,” Ghost reminded. “It’s not a competition.”

Soap waved him off. He wasn’t trying to pout; it just wasn’t often he came across someone that was a better shot than him. He’d get over it.

But who said it couldn’t be a friendly competition?

The two of them hit up one of the on-base restaurants for takeout after leaving the range, and headed back to their rooms to eat. It was mostly for Ghost’s benefit, giving the lieutenant relative privacy to take his mask off. He sighed in relief once he peeled the balaclava from his skin. Beneath it, his hair, head, and neck were drenched in sweat.

Luckily, he had several extra masks, so he wouldn’t have to put this sweaty one back on.

Soap flipped through the TV channels for something mildly interesting, landing on some old western movie. It made him chuckle at how closely the characters’ attire resembled their new cowboy friend’s.

At some point after they’d finished eating, Ghost put one of his other masks on—this one less dramatic, with a much simpler skull pattern on the face—and turned away to nap. Soap wasn’t far behind, nodding off shortly after the movie’s climax. The both of them had endured a long flight from across the pond, and they had a tough week’s worth of work ahead of them; they deserved this moment of rest.

Neither of them meant to nap for a few hours, though. Jet lag was having its way with them. It was nearly five thirty when there came a knock to their door. Ghost woke first, always the lighter sleeper. He rolled over, looking first to Soap, and then to the door beyond. He adjusted his mask, making sure everything was covered, and then walked over to peek through the peephole. A cowboy hat and reflective glasses filled his view. That was enough to tell him who it was. Shaking off his grogginess, Ghost opened the door and… and looked down much further than he’d expected to.

Champ was a solid foot shorter than Ghost, eye level with his chest. This surprised the both of them. They stared at each other, taking a moment to process this information.

The cowboy whistled, his brows nearly disappearing into his hat. “Ho-lee shit, Spooky, what the hell’re they feedin’ ya in the 141? I knew you were a big boy, but damn.” He playfully tapped the side of his fist to Ghost’s chest.

Bold. Most people made no attempts to touch Ghost.

“I get the bones left over from steak nights,” Ghost said, completely deadpan. “Suck out the marrow.”

Champ tilted his head. “I can’t tell if you’re jokin’ or not,” he said with a chuckle. He peered around Ghost, into the room. “You n’ your buddy ought’a throw on some civvies. I got my truck out front, ready to go.”

“To the rodeo,” Ghost clarified. He looked Champ up and down, trying to gauge what sort of civvies would be appropriate for such an occasion. His hat and bandana were the same, as far as Ghost could tell, but the cowboy was wearing a different shirt now. It was a bright blue, long sleeve button up, with the buttons unfastened low on his chest. Black ink peeked out through the V, but Ghost couldn’t quite make out what the tattoo was. His chaps were different as well. These ones were bigger, flashier, and had tassels dangling off of the back of them. To top it all off, Champ had an obnoxiously large, shiny belt buckle hooked onto his belt with “CHAMP” engraved in bold letters.

Yeah, Ghost didn't have anything remotely similar to wear, clothing-wise. He was glad for it, too.

“Don’t sound too excited now,” Champ teased, pulling the lieutenant from his observations. “Y’all don’t gotta come if you don’t wanna. But I know some a’ the organizers, an’ I got y’all some good seats up close.”

“Can’t turn that down now, can we?” Ghost turned to yell at Soap, “Johnny, wake up. We’ve got a rodeo to get to.” He glanced back down at Champ. “We’ll be out in five.”

“Sounds good,” Champ said, giving his arm a tap. “I’ll be waiting out front.”

Ghost closed the door and listened to the sound of retreating cowboy boots until they faded from earshot. It surprised him a little to notice that he didn’t hear the jingling of spurs.

What an eccentric fellow indeed.

Soap stirred on his bed and raised his arms in a long, luxurious stretch. Various joints cracked and popped. It sounded delightful. “Time is it?” he asked sleepily. Ghost glanced at his watch.

“Seventeen-thirty. Put on some civvies; Champ’s waiting for us outside.”

The both of them shuffled out of their sweat-dried clothes and into cleaner, casual wear. Soap donned jeans and a tight, short-sleeve shirt that squeezed his chest and biceps just right. Ghost adopted jeans of his own and a light zip-up hoodie, hood up, of course. It made his balaclava look slightly less out of place. This was about as “civvy” as it got for him.

“Hey, LT,” Soap said, drawing Ghost’s attention. Soap was in the bathroom, combing the bedhead in his mohawk down. He had a goofy look on his face that told Ghost that he was about to say something moronic. “Think we’ll find a cowboy hat here that’d look good on you?”

Ghost rolled his eyes and didn’t bother with a response. Soap still snickered anyway.

As promised, Champ was out front, sitting in an idling red truck. Soap found it a little surprising; he’d expected someone that dressed like Champ to have one of those oversized, ego-boosting, too-big-to-be-safe-to-drive American trucks. This beast was older, its paint faded, and much more practical. Hooked up behind it was a very fancy horse trailer—much more on-par with Champ’s eccentricities. That trailer looked loads more expensive than the truck.

Champ had his arm resting out the rolled-down window, patiently waiting for his guests. He perked up when they stepped through the hotel doors, and waved them a two-fingered salute. Ghost gave the trailer a questioning look as he approached the driver-side back seat.

“You’re bringing the mule?”

“Yep,” Champ said, his smile evident despite his bandana. “Danger loves rodeos as much as I do. Volunteered to be a pickup rider for tonight.”

Ghost pulled the door open and slipped into the back seat, settling in the middle space. Soap took up shotgun. If Champ noticed him still wincing from the lingering soreness between his legs, he didn’t say anything.

“What’s a pickup rider?” Ghost asked.

Champ shifted the car into drive, and pulled out of the parking lot, onto the road towards the main gates. “Y’know the people that ride buckin’ broncs an’ bulls? Pickup riders’re the ones that help ‘em off safely once they complete their ride, or herd the animals away if they fail.” He adjusted the rearview mirror so he could see Ghost better, since it was otherwise useless to him with a trailer in back. “Got you boys front row seats. Hope you’re excited.”

“Ecstatic,” Ghost said without a hint of emotion. Champ snorted and turned to Soap.

“He always like this?”

Soap tilted his head thoughtfully, a playful smirk on his lips. “He’s just shy. Usually he’s a ray of sunshine. Even tells jokes.”

“Jokes, hunh?” he turned his head in Ghost’s direction, brown eye catching him in his peripherals. “Would love to hear one.”

Ghost was staring hard at Soap, who was trying not to laugh. “I’m lookin’ at one,” he growled. Champ pushed an amused breath through his lips.

The drive to the fairgrounds hosting the rodeo was about half an hour. Champ, after asking what his passengers wanted to listen to and getting indifferent responses, tuned the radio onto one of the local country stations. His gloved fingers drummed on the steering wheel, loosely following the guitar strums. Most of the conversation shared on the drive was between him and Soap, with Ghost only occasionally giving his input. Champ was a friendly guy. Chatty.

Ghost was left to wonder if he had another Soap MacTavish on his hands. God help him; he didn’t know if he could deal with two of them.

Then again, maybe that worked in Champ’s favor. Soap had somehow managed to chip away at Ghost’s hardened shell.

Fuckin’ hell…

It was still plenty light out when they pulled into the fairgrounds, the time just after six. Champ chatted briefly with the woman working the back gate, then drove as directed to park his trailer. He skillfully maneuvered his oversized haul into the designated spot, and killed the engine.

“Still got another hour before the rodeo starts,” he said, pocketing his keys. “I’ve gotta go get set up n’ check in with the organizers n’ other riders. Trust you two’ll be alright on your own in the meantime?”

Soap dropped down from the truck, Ghost following suit. “We’ll be fine,” Soap said. He paused next to Champ, noticing, like Ghost had before, how surprisingly short the cowboy was. He’d felt it earlier on the mule, when he’d had his arms around Champ, but he hadn’t seen him on his own two feet yet.

He wasn’t small, though, relatively speaking. Underneath that bright blue shirt, there was solid muscle. Big arms, broad chest, thick middle. For his height, Champ was pretty well-built.

Soap and Ghost left Champ to handle his affairs, and made for the more populated part of the fairgrounds. They had time to kill before they were to meet Champ again at the western bleachers. Ghost kept his hands in his hoodie pockets most of the time and followed behind as Soap led the way through the various attractions. There were rides with dramatic names that neither of them were willing to approach, plenty of shady-looking game stalls, and a seemingly endless abundance of junk food carts.

Some of the smells had Ghost feeling uneasy, dredging up old, unpleasant memories, but he kept it to himself. Even still, Soap, ever perceptive, made an effort to steer clear of the barbecue trucks. While the cooking sausages did smell mouthwatering to him, he was presently more interested in some of the games. Namely the shooting games.

“You didn’t get your fill earlier at the range?” Ghost asked as they approached a stall. The operator greeted them eagerly and explained the objective: shoot as many of the cutout groundhogs as possible before the timer ran out.

Soap handed over the appropriate amount of cash, and grinned up at Ghost as he shouldered the miniature rifle. It had an infrared laser that interacted with sensors on the groundhogs. No physical ammunition. “I’m gonna win you that prize, LT,” he said, nodding to a stuffed cartoon ghost dangling from the prize wall behind the operator.

Ghost narrowed his eyes, unimpressed. “Very funny, Johnny.”

As soon as the timer started, his cheery demeanor vanished, the hardened soldier taking over. The toy gun wasn’t the most accurate thing in the world, go figure, but Soap adapted quickly and knocked down groundhog after groundhog. The operator watched on in amazement, clearly not having expected such a performance.

Needless to say, Soap did win that prize. Soldier mode deactivated, he gleefully claimed to the ghost plushie, and handed it to Ghost. The lieutenant gave him the most annoyed stare he could muster, his skeleton-gloved hands reluctantly accepting the toy.

“I am not carrying this around all night,” he growled.

“Aw, but I won it for you,” Soap said, giving the plush a squeeze on its sewn-on rosy cheeks. “It looks just like you.”

Ghost pulled the toy away and tucked it under his arm, eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head in his exasperation. He did, in fact, end up carrying it as they continued to wander. Soap played a few more games and scored a few more prizes—small ones, thankfully, that could easily be stuffed into pockets.

As the time neared for them to head over to the bleachers, Soap made a quick stop to grab himself and Ghost a bratwurst from one of the food carts, then they made their way. Champ was easy to spot in the ring with his bright shirt. Danger was also easily the largest mount, towering over the other horses by a good few inches.

With a direct comparison, it became obvious the differences between a horse and a mule. Danger’s ears were huge, and his face was distinctly donkey-like. It was in the eyes. Those lashes were long.

Courtesy of Ghost’s imposing stature and skull mask, Champ spotted them just as easily. He veered sharply from his path around the arena and met them at the fence. Soap reached out, resting his hand on Danger’s nose.

“Didn’t get me one?” Champ asked, tipping his head at the half-eaten brat in Soap’s other hand. The Scot stammered, caught off-guard, but Champ just laughed and waved. “Kiddin’, kiddin’. I don’t need to be eatin’ anythin’ right now. Don’t need nothin’ comin’ up while I’m chasin’ a runaway bronc. Nice toy, by the way.” He nodded to the ghost plush pinned against the Brit’s side. Ghost grumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

Champ pointed to a trio of reserved seats a bit further down, near the chute where animals were being lined up, that were for Ghost and Soap. He followed them as they walked along the fence, explaining the events they’d be having tonight.

Steer wrestling, tie-down roping, team roping, barrel racing, bareback riding, and, the final event, bull riding. The excited giddiness was evident in Champ’s voice as he described each sport.

“The animals don’t get hurt, right?” Soap asked.

“Naw. We got strict rules in place to avoid harmin’ the livestock. An’ if there is an accident, we got plenty a’ vets on standby to see to ‘em.” He looked out to the crowd seated on the bleachers. It was a lively night, with anticipation for a good show. He sat up a little straighter in his saddle. “The participants’re much more likely to get hurt,” he said, “but that’s why folks like me‘re here to help. Y’all best get t’ your seats; we’re startin’ soon.”

Soap gave Danger a parting pat on the neck, and met Champ’s fist with his own, then he and Ghost took their seats. They had a great front-row view of the whole arena. Soap nudged Ghost’s shoulder. “This is pretty cool, ey, LT?”

The lieutenant lifted a brow, eyes scanning the crowds of people. It was a sea of cowboy hats as far as he could see. “More people than I expected.”

“Yanks love a rodeo, apparently,” Soap said, leaning back in his seat. “I’m excited to see what the fuss is all about. Still think you should pick up a cowboy hat, though.”

Ghost hummed, keeping his thoughts to himself. He settled more comfortably in his seat, setting the ghost plush in his lap.

The announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers, welcoming the guests to the rodeo. The crowd roared back at him in response. Ghost abstained from showing any excitement, but Soap clapped and offered a few excited hoots. The announcer chattered on, explaining what was in store for tonight, thanking sponsors, introducing judges, and directing everyone to stand for the American National Anthem.

American patriotism was a bit nauseating to witness, but the Brit and the Scot said nothing. They stood like good soldiers, watching the pretty young lady parade around the arena with an oversized flag, standing on the back of a white gelding.

“Ghost, you know how to ride a horse?” Soap asked once they were allowed to sit again.

Ghost shook his head. “Not well. Only done it once or twice.”

“Today was my first time.”

Eyes wide in disbelief, Ghost’s head snapped in Soap’s direction. He had half a mind to smack the Scot upside the head, or to strangle him. “Never been on a bloody horse before, an’ you decided your first time would be riding bitch with a mad fuckin’ cowboy?”

A loud throat clearing on his left briefly drew Ghost’s attention. He met the glare of a middle aged woman, who gestured to a young girl sitting in the seat next to Ghost. The girl stared up at him with a mixture of fear and curiosity. She couldn’t have been more than five years old. “Language,” the woman hissed.

Soap snickered at his right, earning himself a glare of his own. “Impressionable youth around, LT.” And that earned him a concealed, but no less rude gesture.

The first event, steer wrestling, started with a bang. It surprised the two to see just how fast of a sport it was. And aggressive. Soap grimaced as the first rider dropped from his horse onto the steer’s neck and wrenched its head around until it fell to its side. It bellowed in alarm, but it did get up and trot away unharmed once it was released.

“Jesus…” Ghost muttered. But he was intrigued.

After every round, Champ and the other riders herded the animals into their exit chutes while the competitors reveled in the crowd’s cheering.

The next event was even more aggressive. The steers were smaller. Skilled enough competitors hooked them around their necks with a lasso from horseback, sprinted to them, slammed them down on their sides, and tied their legs together with a wire. But still, once their roles were done, the little steers just got back up and trotted along.

Tough creatures, these cattle.

Ghost wasn’t one to cheer, but he found himself mentally complimenting or criticizing the performances. As if he had any room to do the latter.

Soap, on the other hand, started to clap and hoot. He was clearly enjoying himself. It wasn’t football—real football—but it was entertaining nevertheless.

By the end of the steer roping, the sun was finally starting to sink in the sky. Thankfully, their seats were facing away from the setting sun, so they wouldn't be blinded.

“Oi, where’d Champ go?” Soap asked, sitting up in his seat to scan the ring. Ghost did the same, finding neither the cowboy nor his mule.

“Don’t see him,” Ghost said.

Speak of the devil, though. The man in question appeared from the rider’s area and hopped the fence, jumping down onto the audience side.

“Evenin’ boys,” he said. His sunglasses were gone, no longer necessary in the fading light. He plopped down in the empty seat next to Soap with a sigh and crossed his ankle over his knee. “Enjoyin’ your first rodeo?”

“Better than I expected,” Soap said.

“Know what I’d say if I ever came to another one of these?” Ghost asked. Champ leaned back in his seat to meet Ghost’s eyes, brows lifted in anticipation.

Hunh. Now that he didn't have his sunglasses on, Ghost noticed that Champ’s left eye was an icy blue color, starkly in contrast to the deep brown of his right.

“‘This ain’t my first rodeo.’”

Soap groaned loudly, his head dropping into his hands. That was exactly the reaction Ghost was gunning for.

“Holy fuckin’ shit, he does have jokes,” Champ said, his eyes crinkling with a hidden smile.

“No he doesn’t,” Soap said through his hands, “I was lying when I said that.”

“I thought it was funny.”

Ghost huffed. “At least someone appreciates my humor.”

Soap turned fully away from Ghost, very pointedly ignoring him. “Done for the night, Champ?”

“Naw, just taking a break.” He craned his neck, looking at the crowd behind them. “Givin’ Danger a rest. We’ll sit out these next two events, n’ hop back in for the last—” Soap jumped to lean in close, making Champ stiffen. He frowned, confused by the very sudden and intense eye contact. “Uh…”

“Woah. You see this, LT?”

“Noticed it a minute ago, Johnny.”

Champ blinked twice, then realization struck him. “Oh.” A faint red tint crept up from under his bandana. “Yeah.”

“That’s neat.” Soap retreated from his personal space, lips quirked in a half smile. “Bet that makes you popular with the ladies.”

“Heh. Sure does.” He scratched at his jaw, a little uneasy. “Fellas too.”

Ghost did not miss how Champ watched them both for a reaction, nor did he miss how he relaxed when neither of them batted an eye. Soap caught on too.

It’d be hypocritical of them to be anything less than indifferent.

The announcer’s voice rang again over the loudspeakers, announcing the next event: team roping. It was a welcomed change of topic for Champ. He shifted his focus to the arena. Ghost and Soap did the same.

“So, this one’s tricky,” Champ explained. He laid one arm around the back of Soap’s chair, and gestured with his other. “Takes real teamwork. Gotta time it just right to snare the steer. Lassoing the horns is one thing, but catchin’ its hind feet?” He whistled a long, low note. “Lot harder ’n it looks.”

The first steer shot out of the shoot, and a pair of riders shortly after it. One rider successfully caught the steer by its horns with his lasso, but his partner missed the legs, disqualifying them from the competition. Champ gave them a consolation clap.

“Crazy,” Soap said, “‘cos that looks very hard.”

“Oh for sure. I think it’s the most difficult event,” Champ said.

“You ever do any of these?” Ghost asked.

For the briefest moment, Champ’s eyes glazed over. Nostalgia was hitting him hard. “Yep,” he said. “Done ‘em all. I grew up doin’ this stuff.”

“Any good?”

Champ leaned his head back, pondering the question. “Yeah,” he said eventually, “pretty good. Won more’n a few medals n’ trophies.”

The next steer ran from the chute, its roping team in hot pursuit. These two managed to catch it properly, suspending it on its forelegs. Champ clapped heartily, and yelled out a few cheerful words.

The other teams came and went, most of them securing their steeds. Champ was enjoying himself, enthusiastic in his cheers. Now that they had their resident rodeo expert with them, Soap asked questions here and there, seeking clarification on various aspects of the events they’d seen so far. Techniques, scoring criteria, the cattle, the horses, et cetera.

Once the announcers listed off the winners and the cheering faded into a low chatter, Champ leaned forward in his seat, elbows propped on his thighs. “This next event’s my favorite,” he said, an excited twinkle in his eye. “ Barrel racin’.”

Workers set up three barrels in the ring in a triangle while the announcer explained the clover pattern the racers would run in.

“I was real’ good at this back in the day,” Champ said. He nudged Soap’s shoulder, the mischief clear on his face. “Bet you could do it. Got some good practice in on the trail earlier.”

Ghost scoffed before Soap could answer. “Don’t even think about it, Sergeant. I’m not haulin’ your ass—” he paused, glancing at the little girl sitting on his other side— “not haulin’ you back to Glasgow with a broken neck.”

Soap put his hands up, crossing them over his chest in an X shape. “Aye, no worries here. I’ve had my fill of crazy riding for a lifetime.”

“We’ll see ‘bout that,” Champ said with a smile. “I’ve got you boys for a whole week.”

Ghost pulled Soap back by the shoulder so he could level the cowboy with a hard stare. “Champagne, if you break my sergeant, I will be very displeased.”

“Hoo,” Champ replied, his shoulders jolting up. “Chills up my spine. That’s a mean mug ya got there. Don’t worry, Spooky; I got no plans a’ breakin’ either a’ ya.”

An announcement rang overhead, drawing attention back to the ring for the first racer. Champ hooted as she shot from the chute on a sorrel horse. She whipped that horse around the barrels, sending dirt flying with each tight turn, and zoomed back to the finish line, clearing the course in just over sixteen seconds.

“Steamin’ Jesus, she was flying,” Soap said, almost breathless.

“That was just a girl,” Ghost pointed out. “Couldn’t’ve been more than sixteen.”

“Yep,” Champ confirmed, “they start young. I was, what, six? Seven? When I first barrel raced.”

Soap breathed out through tight lips. “Crazy yanks.”

“That’s for sure,” Ghost agreed.

The next girl to race was even younger, and even faster. Champ took great pleasure in the way Soap’s jaw dropped.

Most of the other racers were adults, but their runs were still plenty thrilling. Champ couldn’t help but jump up in his applause with a hoot and a holler after one racer cleared the course in fourteen and a half seconds. His enthusiasm was infectious; it got Soap yelling out a few cheers as well, and even Ghost clapped once or twice.

The winners were announced—fourteen and a half won—and Champ leaned back into his seat with a huff, grinning to himself. “Good shit,” he said.

“Language,” Ghost said, drawing a confused hum from the cowboy. He jerked his head to the kid next to him. “Already got in trouble once with the mum.”

“Well, then I’d best get, ‘fore I say somethin’ that’ll get me in trouble.” He stood up and adjusted his collar, smoothing it down against his neck. “Time t’ get back out there anyway.”

“Two more events, right?” Ghost asked.

Champ nodded. He hooked his thumbs into his belt, hands framing the shiny, oversized buckle in the middle. “Yep. Bet y’all have ‘bout had your fill a’ this country folk nonsense; I won’t be offended if ya wanna catch a cab back to base.”

Soap and Ghost exchanged looks, as if communicating telepathically. “We’re good, Soap said after a moment. “Already watched the wee bulls get manhandled; I wanna see the reverse.”

The cowboy shook his head with a soft laugh. “Trust me, a tramplin’ ain’t a pretty sight. I’ll be doin’ my damnedest—” The girl’s mother cleared her throat and glared daggers at Champ, but he ignored her— “to make sure no one gets hurt.” He offered a fist to Soap, which the Scot knocked in return. “Meet’cha back here when I’m done.”

“Didn’t offer me a fist bump,” Ghost noted as Champ disappeared back into the work area. Soap rolled his eyes and knocked his shoulder to the Brit’s.

“Don’t get your feelings hurt. Probably guessed you wouldn’t have obliged him. And I’m sure you wouldn’t have.”

“Probably not,” he agreed.

Workers scrambled about the ring to clear it for the next event: bareback riding. The giant stadium lights overhead switched on, illuminating the arena. Champ rejoined his fellow pickup riders astride Danger, his shirt practically glowing under the harsh light.

Everything was set. The announcer called up the first rider and bronco combo. Music started playing. The big iron gate swung open, and the bronco launched up into the air, its rider flailing about on its back like a ragdoll. His cowboy hat was gone within two seconds, and he didn’t last more than four more before he was sent flying. A few people on foot helped him up, while Champ charged on after the horse to pull its buck strap off and herd it back to the chute.

All in all, it looked like a painful sport. Soap grimaced, reminded of the soreness still plaguing his loins. A funny thought did occur to him, though. He side-eyed Ghost, a grin creeping onto his face, and breathed in—

“If you say anything about wanting to get onto one of those fu—” ahem— “one of those animals, I’m gonna toss you in there right under the next one’s hooves.” Ghost spoke casually, not even bothering to look at Soap. The sergeant snickered.

“Actually, I was gonna say that this reminds me of riding in the car when you’re driving. Bumpy as all getup.”

“I just might throw you in there anyway.”

The next rider had a nasty bronco. The damn thing was all over the place, jumping sideways, twisting mid-air, kicking its back legs high. The poor rider didn’t stand a chance. Soap winced as he hit the ground, narrowly missing a kick to the head before someone could rush in and contain the situation.

Rider number three fared better. The horse put up a good fight, doing its damnedest to throw its charge off, but the man held on tight until the buzzer went off, signaling that he’d done it. Now they actually got to see the “pickup” part of the pickup rider’s job. Champ swooped in next to the bucking bronc, practically flushed against it, and helped pull the rider off. He held onto him for an extra second, making sure that he was okay, then let him down to collect his hat and his glorious praise. Eighty-five points. The crowd roared for him.

Of the eight remaining riders, only four were able to keep themselves atop their broncos. It struck the soldiers as a light miracle that no one was injured amidst the violence. Champ and his fellow pickup riders did damn well in keeping things safe—as safe as they could be, given the dangerous nature of the sport.

It did not go unnoticed how Champ and Danger seemed to parade around the ring after every successful rescue. His mouth may have been hidden, but his eyes and his body language did the smiling for him. And the mule? The mule held his head high, and strutted.

What a pair, those two.

The winners of the bareback riding were announced, and then the arena was cleared so that preparations for the final event could proceed. Champ stopped at the fence for a moment. “Fellas!” he called to the soldiers, “get excited. This’s the event everyone’s been waitin’ for!” He clicked his tongue and tugged his reins, bringing Danger up onto his hind legs. The immediate crowd echoed a small chorus of oohs and ahs as he sped off, following the other staff into the back.

Ghost lifted a brow. “Quite the show off, in’ he?”

“Aw, I kinda like him,” Soap said.

“Didn’t say I didn’t.”

Soap rolled his head to the side, giving Ghost a knowing look. “You don’t like anyone. ‘Cept me, of course.”

Ghost met his gaze, deadpan as ever. “Who says you’re the exception?”

A dangerous smirk formed on the sergeant’s lips. “I got the impression last time I had my mouth around—”

Ghost’s hand shot to cover Soap’s mouth, cutting him off before he could finish that sentence. “Watch that mouth, MacTavish,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Children around.”

Soap’s eyes twinkled, but he said nothing more.

The staff poured back into the arena, taking up their posts. Champ settled next to the chute, not far from Ghost and Soap. The announcer addressed the audience, asking if everyone was ready to see some bull riding. The crowd roared back at him, Soap joining in with his hands cupped around his mouth. He was loud enough for Champ to hear. The cowboy gave him a pleasantly surprised look.

“Christ, Johnny…” Ghost muttered.

“I’m having fun, LT,” he retorted. “You should try it sometime.”

A loud bang rattled the chute door, followed by an angry bellow. The announcer noted that someone sounded unhappy; best not to keep him waiting much longer. Music started—some upbeat country tune—the rider gave the signal, and the door flew open. The bull that careened out wasn’t particularly huge, as far as bulls went, but he was mean, showing his rider no mercy. The poor bastard made it four seconds before falling off. He landed hard on his front, garnering a few sympathetic groans from the crowd. A bullfighter rushed up to distract the bull while Champ came in to yank its buck strap off and direct it back to the chute.

“Shite…” Soap mumbled, leaning forward in his seat. “Is he okay?”

The rider was still for a long moment. The crowd hushed into concerned whispers.

“He’s movin’” Ghost said. “Look. He’s gettin’ up.”

Slowly, the rider got up to his knees, and then to his feet, steadying himself with a bullfighter’s help.

“Probably concussed,” Ghost concluded. Soap echoed his agreement as the rider limped out of the arena.

“...That was pretty awesome though.”

Ghost closed his eyes. “No, Johnny.”

Soap scoffed, halfway offended. “What? I don’t want to try it!”

Three more riders took their turns, and all three went flying from their bulls. The announcer noted that the bulls were feisty tonight. Would anyone be able to hold on?

The fourth rider could, apparently, but his bull didn’t have quite as much fight in it as the previous animals. Still, Champ was at his side as soon as the timer went off, an arm around his back to haul him off of the bucking beast. The rider stared at Champ, as if taken aback by him, but the cowboy only winked before letting him down and trotting off again.

According to the judges the whole performance was only worth fifty-six points. The crowd cheered regardless, happy to see someone complete a ride.

Two more riders failed in a row, two more succeeded, and the last one slipped off just before the buzzer. With only three people qualifying, they all automatically made the top three places in the competition.

Champ disappeared from the arena. Soap and Ghost sat up, preparing to leave, but the announcer spoke again, catching them and the rest of the crowd by surprise.

“It seems we have a surprise bull rider tonight, folks!” the voice boomed. The crowd murmured, voices whispering over who it could be.

Ghost had a sneaking suspicion. “No…”

“One of our pickup riders wants to try his hand! No worries to our winners, though; he is not joining in on the competition.”

“What?” Soap looked between Ghost and the arena, watching a couple of bullfighters and a pickup rider file out for the last ride.

“Everyone, say hello to Mr. Wayne Champagne! He’s the fella in the blue that’s been helpin’ keep our riders safe all night! Can we get some love for Mr. Champagne here?”

Champ stood up on a fence behind the chute and waved his arms, stoking loud cheers from the audience. He looked over to where Ghost and Soap were, and shot them a double finger guns.

“He’s fucking mad!” Ghost shouted, springing up from his seat. He unconsciously squeezed the ghost plush in a tight fist. Soap followed behind, watching nervously as Champ settled down in the chute.

“No fuckin’ way…”

The opening riff of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7fUtD40GqGY">B.Y.O.B</a> blared over the speakers. The door swung open. The bull tore out of the chute with a vengeance. Champ looked positively tiny on the beast, but he was holding on, despite its greatest efforts. His hat flew off a few seconds in, leaving his dark, curly hair to flop around wildly.

“Holy shite.” Soap gripped Ghost’s shoulder, unable to tear his eyes away from the raging bull. “He’s gonna make it!”

Ghost felt a similar level of disbelief.

The crowd was going wild. Their cheers were deafening, loud enough to drown out the buzzer that marked the end of Champ’s ride.

The pickup rider came to his side quickly to help him off of his bull. Once his feet hit the dirt, he snatched his hat and thrusted it up into the air, earning himself one final cheer.

“What a spectacular ride! Eighty-seven points for Mr. Wayne Champagne!”

“That’s the second-highest score of the night,” Ghost noted. He almost sounded impressed, but he mostly sounded annoyed. Not only had the yank gone and done something stupid, but he’d done it well.

Champ jogged over to the gate where Soap and Ghost stood slack-jawed—or rather, Soap was slack-jawed; Ghost was largely unreadable—and hopped over the top. “Howdy, boys!” he said, breath heavy from exertion and adrenaline.

“Yer aff yer fuckin’ heid!” Soap exclaimed. He ruffled the cowboy’s already messed up, sweat-slicked hair, grinning ear to ear. “Did you have that planned all night?”

Champ waved the Scot’s hand away playfully and replaced his hat on his head, his chest shaking with barely-contained laughter. “‘Course I did. Figured I oughta have a little fun before I’m whisked away from my vacation.”

“Steamin’ Jesus. How’re your balls feelin’ after a ride like that, huh?”

“Wha—?” Champ blinked, looking a little startled by the question, then huffed out a breathy laugh. “Still not as sore ‘s yours, Scotty. Gotten used to takin’ abuse like this.”

Ghost, wanting to stop this conversation before it continued any further, cleared his throat loudly. “We should get going. Busy day tomorrow.” He paused, eyes narrowing on Champ. “And you’re out of your goddamn mind.”

Champ was about to hit the Brit with a lighthearted retort, but a shrill voice behind them cut him off. “Excuse me!” the mother from earlier shrieked, her hands clamped firmly down over her daughter’s ears. “You’re all filthy! There are children here!”

Ugh. Champ rolled his eyes so hard that they threatened to roll right out of his head, and bit back an extra nasty retort so as to hold onto a shred of professionalism. He lightly slapped the back of his hand to Soap’s chest and started walking to where the trailers were parked, the soldiers following behind. There was still a pep in his step; he wasn’t about to let some bitchy suburban helicopter mom ruin his good mood, his adrenaline high.

Fuck her! He rode the fuck out of that bull! And he was fuckin’ proud!

Once out of earshot of the miserable woman, Soap resumed his excited chatter, asking questions about technique, how it felt, how bad it really hurt. Champ explained it all in great detail, ever the expert on the subject. He was just starting to tell Soap that he might be able to pull off a ride on a smaller, tamer bull, and Ghost was ready to admonish him again, when an unfamiliar voice called from behind them.

“Wayne Champagne!”

The three of them stopped in their tracks and looked back, Champ turning halfway to face three oncoming men. All of them were rodeo competitors, judging by their cowboy hats and flashy, tasseled chaps. The middle one was the first one that Champ had pulled off of his bull earlier—the first man to actually stay on his bull, and the man that went off to win third place in the competition. He was clearly the leader of this little group. His two buddies—one burly man with a thick beard, and a taller fellow with bright red hair—hung back an extra couple of feet.

Ringleader stopped in front of Champ, pushing the boundaries of personal space. Champ raised a brow. “That was some good riding back there. Unexpected. Made all of us look like damn amateurs.” He wore a smile on his face, but it was devoid of any earnestness. Ringleader’s buddies had similar smiles.

Soap and Ghost stood behind Champ, bodies tense. They could tell that this was not a friendly confrontation between competitors.

That didn’t stop Champ from trying to play it off as one, though. He scuffed the heel of his boot in the dirt and breathed out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Naw, y’all did great. You especially. First one to stay on the bull all night.”

“Uh hunh.” Ringleader nodded, his jaw flexing to one side. He gave the two soldiers a quick glance, but his focus was on Champ. “‘Champagne,’” he repeated. “Only ever heard of one family with that name. You wouldn’t happen to be related to Liam Champagne, would ya?”

Now Champ tensed, his shoulders visibly stiffening. All projected ease vanished from his demeanor. He lifted his chin, eyes steeled, and hooked his thumbs into his belt.

Ringleader continued, an air of arrogance about him. “Liam was friends with my dad, back in Michigan. Had a couple of daughters, didn’t he? Emily and—” he shot a quick look back to one of his buddies— “and what was the other one?”

“Myra? I think?”

“ Somethin’ like that, yeah.”

Champ tensed further, tight as a compressed spring.

“There a problem here?” Ghost cut in. He took a step forward, but Champ put a hand to his stomach to stop him.

“No problem,” Champ said, his gaze not leaving Ringleader.

“Don’t know much about her, but I remember a couple a’ things about Emily. She had these weird eyes. One blue, one brown. Just like yours, hunh?” Champ didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. “And I remember hearin’ that she gunned her own dad down.”

Now Soap stepped up, a hand on Champ’s shoulder. “Sorry—what the hell is—”

“Back off, MacTavish,” Champ hissed, shaking his hand off. “I’ve got this.” Soap furrowed his brow, confused, but reluctantly retreated.

“So now you’re here, dressin’ up like a man, goin’ by a different name? You some kinda tranny freak, Emily?” Ringleader gave the two soldiers a smug look, a crinkle on the bridge of his nose. “You a faggot too? These your British boyfriends?”

“I remember you,” Champ said suddenly, his voice cutting like glass. “Didn’t I take your virginity in high school? Don’t remember it bein’ too great neither.” Ringleader’s smile dropped. His buddies gave him looks of shock and disgust. Champ continued, “Wonder if your daddy’s any better. Bet I could find him, wine n’ dine him, make him a new son that’s not a bigoted piece a’ shit.”

Ringleader swung a fist. Everyone saw it coming from a mile away. Champ even looked directly at it before it hit him. It struck Champ across the apple of his left cheek and sent his hat flying. Quick as lightning, though, Champ came back, snatching Ringleader’s belt and driving his own fist into his crotch with vicious intention. The sound that left Ringleader’s throat was like a donkey’s bray, his body doubling over involuntarily.

Soap and Ghost both cringed, the former squeezing his legs together just a little bit with a soft noise of sympathy.

Champ followed up with an elbow to Ringleader’s back, catching him right between his shoulder blades and sending him coughing into the dirt.

The two goons lunged, and the soldiers moved to step in again, but Champ snarled at them to stay the fuck back. He was fast. He ducked to avoid the bearded man’s punch and caught him in the jaw with an uppercut that sent him staggering. He crashed into the red headed man with a guttural roar, shoulder to his gut, and rammed him against the side of a trailer. Redhead tried to wrench him off, but Champ came back with a headbutt, knocking his brows to his forehead with an audible thunk.

Ouch.

Redhead went limp, unconscious. Champ stood up, a little shaky, a little disoriented. Headbutts weren’t always a good move.

“Knife!” Ghost shouted. Champ heard footsteps behind him and sidestepped, avoiding Beardo’s hunting knife that surely would have skewered a kidney. He spun and wrapped his arms low around his waist, holding him from behind. With a grunt, he hefted Beardo up off of his feet and suplexed him, dropping him on his head. He too went limp.

“My sister’s name is Mireya,” the cowboy spat as he pushed himself to his feet again. He stomped on Beardo’s wrist and kicked the knife away. There was a wild fury in his eyes, almost animalistic. Feral. Rabid.

Those eyes turned to Ringleader, who was up on his hands and knees, still coughing. Champ rushed over to him and shoved his heel into his ribs, knocking him back down onto his stomach. He stepped over and straddled his hips, taking a fistful of his hair to lift his head up. He leaned in close, voice dropped to a gravelly whisper. “Call me what you want. I just want you to remember that your first time gettin’ your dick wet was with a tranny. An’ that same tranny beat your ass years later.”

Champ threw Ringleader’s head down and stepped away, panting. When his gaze snapped up to Ghost and Soap, he looked half-ready to attack them too. Soap raised his hands to placate. “Woah, hey, we’re all friends here.”

“At ease, Champagne,” Ghost warned. “No one else has to get hurt. We’re on the same side.”

Champ scoffed and straightened his shoulders. “Don’t patronize me.” He turned sharply and disappeared between the trucks, headed back towards his own. Ghost and Soap exchanged looks.

That was fucking crazy.

It had all happened so fast, too. Despite taking a punch—which he’d taken like a, well, a champ—Champ had laid out all three men in less than thirty seconds.

Ghost shook his head as he stepped over the fallen ringleader. “Fuckin’ yanks,” he muttered. Soap grabbed Champ’s forgotten hat, and then they followed after the cowboy.

He was in his truck when they found him, his head down on the steering wheel, hair a mess with sweat and dirt. He had music playing—hard rock, from the sound of it. Something angry. Ghost rounded to the passenger’s side and pulled the door open. Champ’s head lifted, eyes still burning with fury from the fight. They darted back to Soap then, as the sergeant climbed into the back seat.

Slowly, Ghost reached for the radio and turned the music down.

Two soldiers. One cowboy. A whole lot of tension.

Champ didn’t trust them. Not right now.

After a long moment of silence, he spoke up, “Well? Anythin’ to say, Lieutenant? Sergeant?”

Soap shook his head, lips pursed just so.

“You’re bleedin’,” Ghost said. He gestured to the wet patch on the left cheek of Champ’s bandana.

Champ cursed under his breath. He flipped down his sun visor and pulled open the mirror, then yanked off his bandana. In addition to the cut on his cheek, his nose was also bloody, likely from the headbutt. Red ran down his lips, into the short, dark hair that covered his chin and jaw. He folded the cloth and dabbed it at his nose, trying to clean the worst of the mess up.

When he looked over, he caught both of the soldiers staring. One brow quirked, he said, “I know I’m handsome, but damn. Careful how long ya look, fellas; you might start fallin’ in love.”

Ghost ignored him and searched around, spotting a miniature first aid kit in the cubby on his door. He opened it and sifted through the supplies, finding some alcohol wipes. “Here.” He tore open a packet, and motioned for Champ to lean in. Champ, still feeling the rush of fight or flight, hesitated. “Come here, Champ,” Ghost said more firmly.

Tentatively, Champ complied. He leaned forward, left cheek turned towards Ghost. His nose wrinkled a little under the sting of the alcohol wipe, but he voiced no complaints. His eyes drifted from the skull mask over to Soap, who continued to stare.

Now sans-bandana, his piercings were visible. There was a small, silver ring through his septum, snug against the skin, and a flat stud in his left nostril. This man was just full of surprises.

“I’ll apologize for this tomorrow,” he said. “But tonight, I ain’t too sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Soap replied. “Those guys were arseholes. Got what they deserved.”

Champ pressed his lips together, a low hum in his throat. “Everything he said was true. To an extent.” Ghost paused his cleaning for just a moment. “Missin’ context, of course, but it ain’t really any a’ your business. However, if we’re gonna have any problems about it, best tell me now.”

“Don’t know what problem we’d have,” Ghost said. Soap nodded in agreement. The Brit grabbed some ointment from the kit and dabbed it onto Champ’s cut, then stuck a bandage over it. “Like you said, it’s none of our business.”

Champ blinked and slowly leaned back in his seat. He brushed his fingers over the bandage, wincing a little at the tiny bloom of pain. It was already starting to bruise around the cut. Tomorrow, it would surely be nice and purple.

“You let him hit you,” Ghost pointed out, stashing the medkit back where he found it. “Baited him, even, from the looks of it.”

“Heh.” Champ flipped the sun visor back up, a mirthless smile on his lips. “Had to have a solid reason t’ beat the shit outta him. Bigots’re so easy to piss off.”

“Could’ve blocked the punch.”

“Could’a.” Champ shrugged. He rolled down his window and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from the center console. “Y’all mind if I smoke?” The soldiers shook their heads. He placed one between his lips, and offered one to his company. Soap accepted; Ghost did not. He lit both of their cigarettes, and then Champ took a long drag, letting the smoke and the burn fill his lungs. It took the edge off, dampening his fury so that it wasn’t so sharp. He could come down from this. He always did.

Once he finished the cigarette and stubbed it in an old soda cup, he turned the key in the ignition and fired up the engine.

“Wait—” Soap looked out through the window as they started to move. “Danger?”

“Had someone load him up before I got on the bull,” Champ said. “Not gonna forget ‘bout my best boy. I’d die before I ever leave him behind.” He did press on the brakes, though, his face going pale at something he did forget. He pawed at his head, then looked around, a bit frantic. “Shit—where’s my—?”

“Got it here,” Soap said, holding up Champ’s hat. It was a bit dirty from its multiple tumbles tonight, but it was intact. Champ gratefully took it back and flipped it over, fingers feeling the sweat band along the brow until they found the piece of metal wedged under. Two silver pendants. Dog tags. Champ breathed out a sigh of relief, then placed the hat on his head where it belonged.

Music turned back up—still playing early 2000s hard rock, which felt right, given the turn the night had taken—Champ weaved on out of the parking lot, off the fairgrounds, and embarked on the half-hour journey back to the base.

This time, he wasn’t nearly as chatty. Soap tried once to start a conversation, but it quickly became clear that Champ was in no mood. He was still angry, even as the adrenaline ebbed from his systems. Another cigarette calmed him a little more, but he was still burning inside. And Ghost, of course, was his normal level of chatty outside of a combat situation.

A break from the heavy guitar came in the form of a phone call, which made Champ jump. The text on the radio screen read “Bluebird” with a chick and a blue heart emoji. Champ cursed under his breath. “Y’all speak Spanish?”

“Only a little,” Soap replied.

“‘Kay. It’s is my sister. She’s got a sixth sense, I swear—always knows when somethin’ happened.” He pressed the answer button on the screen, forced a smile, took a breath, and said, “¡Buenas noches, mi pajarita! ¿Como esta? ” The stark contrast between his normal country accent and his perfect Spanish gave the soldiers whiplash.

The sister didn’t answer immediately. There was a pregnant pause that made Champ visibly nervous.

“Mireya…?”

“¿Qué histice? ” a woman asked.

“Wha—? Hey.” Champ grimaced, his grip tightening on the wheel. He continued in Spanish, “Now is not a good time. I have coworkers in the car. ”

“What happened? ” she asked again, more insistent.

The cowboy flicked his hand and sighed. “Nothing. Got in a fight. I’m fine.”

“Wayne…” She sounded disappointed.

“It’s fine! Some people were talking shit. I didn’t start the fight; I just finished it.” He glanced at Ghost, feeling a little embarrassed. His little sister was admonishing him in front of his coworkers. “Bluebird,” he said, continuing in English, “really can’t talk right now. I’ll call ya in the mornin’, ‘kay?”

Mireya went silent again, a sigh of her own coming through the speakers. “Fine. First thing tomorrow.”

“Of course. Te quiero mucho, Bluebird.” His smile softened into something more genuine. “Good night.”

The call ended. Champ leaned back in his seat and rubbed his brow. He’d had a headache brewing since his scuffle at the fairgrounds, and it was reaching its apex.

“Fuck it.” He scrolled through the contacts on the screen and hovered over one labeled “Boss.” “Y’all speak any Russian?”

“No more than Spanish,” Ghost answered.

Champ pressed the call button and, after a few rings, Nikolai greeted him. Once again, whiplash struck when Champ responded in not-quite-perfect Russian. His normal accent came through a little more in his pronunciation.

“Niky. Wanted you to hear it from me before it reached you through the grapevine. I had a bit of a brawl—”

“Already? Champ, I told you to play nice with Price’s men!”

Champ waffled, taken aback and offended. He looked to Ghost for support, but the lieutenant wasn’t privy to the conversation. “Not with them! They’re fine. Probably would have backed me up if I’d let them. No—I got in a fight with some shithead hillbillies. Figured I’d tell you in case these two decided to tattle on me.”

Nikolai snorted. “I doubt they would have. Were you hurt?”

“No. Just a cut on the cheek. I’m fine.” Mostly fine. Angry still.

“So you are getting along then?”

“Other than this little incident, yeah, things are going smoothly. I like these guys. They’re funny.”

“Ghost? ” The Brit perked up. Apparently he recognized his namesake in Russian. “You think Ghost is funny? ”

The corner of Champ’s lip quirked up, almost a smirk. “Yeah. He’s pretty funny. I think I’m growing on him too.”

Ghost narrowed his eyes on Champ. “Hope that’s not me you’re talkin’ about,” he growled.

“Oh! He’s there with you?” Nikolai asked, switching to English. Ghost glared at Champ, who pointedly avoided his gaze.

“I’m here too, Nikolai,” Soap interjected, his head popping up between Ghost and Champ to break the glare. “You know your man’s fuckin’ crazy? Where the hell did you find this cowboy, huh?”

“That’s a story for another time,” Champ interrupted, any traces of humor vanishing from him. “That’s all I wanted to say, Niky. We gotta go. Call you if anything else comes up.” He hastily ended the call before the Russian could reply, and stared straight ahead, eyes firmly on the road.

That was… abrupt.

Soap leaned back into his seat. He and Ghost both stared at Champ for a long moment, but neither of them said anything. The cowboy met Soap’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Another time,” he repeated.

He turned the music back up, letting it fill the space as it had before.

Pulling up to the base gate, Champ collected Soap and Ghost’s papers that permitted them passage. He noted with an inquisitive brow that Ghost’s papers had no photo, nor any name. It just listed his rank, his affiliation, and “GHOST.” The gate guard noticed it as well, but everything still checked out after a quick phone call to a higher-up. They were allowed entry without issue, save for a quick comment about the new shiner on Champ’s cheek.

“I’ll drop you two off at the hotel first. Gotta head to the stables n’ take care a' Danger,” he said. “Thanks for comin’ out to the rodeo. Hope ya had at least a little bit a’ fun.”

Soap leaned forward, forearms resting on the backs of Champ and Ghost’s seats. “I wanna see the stables. Are there any other horses?”

“Nah. Stables are there mostly for me,” Champ replied. “I’m the only one that brings a mount around.”

“I’d still like to see ‘em.” Ghost gave the sergeant an annoyed side eye, but he paid it no mind.

Champ shrugged. “If ya wanna.” He flipped on his blinker, and turned down the road that brought them to the tiny stables and fenced-in pasture. It was a two-stall structure, simple in build, but it served its purpose. Once he backed his trailer into the designated spot, he hopped out of the truck and rounded to the back to start unloading. Soap followed after, curious, while Ghost stayed where he was, decidedly less curious. He looked down at his lap, realizing that he still had the damn ghost plushie Soap had won for him. He stared into the cartoon eyes, zoning out…

Hearing laughter from the stables after Danger was unloaded, though, pulled him back to the present. Ghost leaned his head back with an exasperated sigh and pushed his door open. He set the plush down in his seat, and followed the cackling to the stable’s door.

Was he prepared to see Champ dumping a stout beer into a bucket for his mule to eagerly slurp up? No, he wasn’t. Ghost paused at the threshold, watching the scene unfold, dumbfounded.

“What the fuck?”

Soap was doubled over, trying to contain his laughter. Ghost looked to Champ for an explanation.

“Medically necessary,” he said. It clarified nothing. Ghost’s deadpan relayed as much. “Danger has trouble sweating, and beer helps.”

Ah. That still made no fucking sense .

“He’s just—” Soap struggled to speak, struggled to breathe— “The mule’s just poundin’ back a brew!”

Champ crushed the now emptied can and dropped it into a nearby recycling bin, then grabbed another beer from the minifridge in the adjacent stall. “Think fast, Scotty,” he said, tossing the beer to Soap. “One for you too, Spooky?”

Ghost shook his head, eyes narrowed.

“Suit yourself.” He grabbed a can for himself, pierced it at the bottom with a pocket knife, popped the top, and promptly shotgunned the whole thing in a matter of seconds. Soap blinked in surprise, then shrugged and followed suit.

“You’re all fuckin’ insane,” Ghost said, now sounding more disappointed than exasperated.

“You’re one to talk,” Champ retorted. He swiped his sleeve across his mouth, cleaning off the stream of beer that trickled down his chin. “No one in our line of work is sane.”

Ghost couldn’t argue with that one. He wanted to, but he couldn’t. He shook his head and turned around. “I’m walkin’ back to the hotel,” he grumbled.

Soap disposed of his beer can and jogged after him. “Wait up, LT!” He paused at the barn doors and glanced back over his shoulder at Champ. “See you tomorrow, yeah?”

The cowboy nodded and gave a two-fingered salute. “Tomorrow. Bright n’ early.” He returned to caring for Danger, and Soap followed Ghost.

Behind them, they could hear rock music resume. It was a song they’d heard earlier in the truck—one that Ghost at least was already familiar with. The singer’s voice drifted out on the wind, “Living just isn’t hard enough… Burn me alive inside… Living my life’s not hard enough…”

The hotel wasn’t far away. The two of them walked back in the muggy summer night air, accumulating another layer of sweat to cake onto the already existing layers. Soap muttered something about needing a shower. Ghost was eager to get one as well. He preferred the dry heat of the desert to this humid nonsense.

It was nearly eleven when they made it back to the hotel. Back in their room, they both seemed to breathe out a sigh they’d been holding onto. Soap stripped off his shirt, grimacing at how it clinged to his skin.

“Crazy day,” he said, tossing the shirt aside and stepping into the bathroom. Ghost listened to the shower sputtering on.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Got a feelin’ our stay’s only gonna get crazier.” He unzipped his hoodie and discarded it, then sat on the bed to wait his turn for the bathroom.

“It always seems to,” Soap agreed. “I got a good feeling about Champ, though.”

Ghost huffed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

#call of duty #cod #cod mwii #cod mw2 #john mactavish #simon riley #john price #nikolai #hyena writes #hyena ocs #wayne champagne #cod oc #just to reiterate: this is NOT gee tee & this story will not involve gee tee (if i continue it)#does this new guy bear striking resemblance to my cowboysona? yes. is that intentional? yes. let me live #anyway i love him

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buckyjamess-archive · 3 years

Text

𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓲𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲 ❁ 𝓫𝓾𝓬𝓴𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼

chapter eighteen • a/n: last chapter folks- wanna thank all those who interacted/read it, I hope you enjoyed it! ♡ gonna miss these fools, ngl • wordcount: 2k • warnings: nothing but fluff. Parenthood. Babies. Kids.

summary

going through rough years after losing your husband, you try to raise your daughter the best you can. With the help from the wilson's you make the best of it but the road is bumpy when sam introduces you to his friend.

masterlist

His hands are warmer and maybe even bigger as his fingers are intertwined with yours, gently swaying back and forth, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand or a light squeeze to remind you he's still there.

a few steps ahead, rosie groans, huffs and puffs as she pushes the stroller the best she can. Talking to her little brother who gurgles back just as much.

"You're really heavy!"

a soft pink, round handbag with minnie mouse printed on the front hangs loosely in Steve's other hand. Handed to him seconds after leaving the restaurant by Rosie herself as she offered to push her little brother back home. A heavy diaper bag he'd taken off the stroller to take away some weight, hangs of his shoulder– you told him you could carry one of the two but Steve being Steve, refused your offer and instead clamped his hand in yours.

A day out planned by the man walking next to you. A day with the four of you, letting Rosie and JJ get used to Steve being around for more than the two hours every night before getting tucked in. That Steve wasn't just a friend anymore– though Rosie 'just knew' when you told her Steve was more than a friend, a special friend.

'I don't kiss my friends like that'

Rosie didn't mind, or at least you think. She was good with everyone, stranger or not. Opening up to Steve wasn't a problem, becoming friends with Steve came easy for the girl.

And bucky, bucky would always be dad.

'Now I have three daddies. My real daddy, my normal daddy and steve.'

And though you never intended to let Steve in your life so quickly, it became serious pretty fast.

Delicately glueing back each other's pieces left of a broken heart; giving solace, a shoulder to cry on and someone to hold. Steve and you never intended to become this, you were just friends, used-to-be-coworkers. It happened. Bucky no longer floating through your head every other minute or feeling that ache in your chest– just you and Steve and for now after the heartbreak Bucky caused you could in all honesty say that Steve Rogers treated you better than anyone ever did.

The stroller comes to a halt when Rosie stills in front of the apartment block. She let's go of the stroller and places both hands on her sides, bright yellow sunglasses resting on the bridge of her nose, she sighs heavily.

"That was heavy."

You and Steve chuckle at Rosie her stance as if an old man admiring his self-built furniture, sarcasm dripping from her body yet as innocent as can be.

"I bet it was, kid."

"Yes, JJ eats too much."

"Says the girl who ate all my fries."

Letting go of your hand, Steve hands Rosie back her own bag which she happily takes– slipping the diaper bag from his shoulder, you wrap your hand around it and carefully toss it over your own. Hand digging in to find your keys. Taking the few steps up the building, you push open the door and watch how Steve casually carries the stroller and JJ up the steps and follows Rosie in the building.

The walk to the elevator is short, the three of you and the stroller packed tight in the small space– you stay quiet, watching the interaction between Rosie and Steve, your heart grows ten times its size. You thank the gods above for giving you all these amazing men in your life, even if they broke your heart in different ways- teaching you the ways of life, giving the best things to ever exist, trusting you, caring about you..loving you.

Riley, your first real love. The one that changed your life forever. Teaching the ropes of this crazy thing called adult life. Be the calm to your chaos. Showed you love like you'd never had before– sure enough about it all to put a ring around your finger and giving you the most important job of them all; be a mother to a beautiful, funny and feisty daughter. Riley who gave you real heartbreak, leaving an empty hole in your heart and took a piece of your soul with him

Sam who stood by your side through it all. Going through the process together of losing a spouse and partner on the field. Your shoulder to lean on when things got rough, a friend of your man turned into your best friend– showing you the meaning of family by letting you into his own.

Bucky who stole your heart so fast, you never had a chance to let it settle– a wild man willing to wait. A wild man who showed you that life after Riley could be something beautiful; taught you how to love again, brought you back to life and gave you the gift you call your son, gave Rosie a father figure. Bucky the best mistake you'd ever made in your life.

And maybe all these men were needed to get you with the one. Without Riley no Sam and without Sam no Bucky, and you'd never have met Steve if you didn't move to Brooklyn. All these men lead you to him.

Steve. The man who picked up the pieces and put them back together– the man you so desperately needed in your life. The calm that Riley once gave you and the wild and silly bucky once showed. The one for real this time.

Even if things didn't go your way, men changing every chapter of your book– life was pretty amazing.

Steve must've seen the slight wobble of your chin and your eyes filling with tears. His firm hand back into yours, you look up to meet his blues, you shoot him a tight lipped smile.

"Mommy, why are you crying?"

You inhale deeply, quickly wiping away the tears that have made their way down your cheeks and not trusting your own voice, you smile at your daughter but shrug.

"You know what I think?" Steve quips, the hand that's intertwined with yours now snaking around your waist to pull you ever closer into his side "I think mom's just really happy."

Rosie nods unsure but gives a toothy grin "then I'm happy too, then we're all happy."

"Then we're all happy."

He reads you like an open book, something you got to love and hate over the last few weeks. Nitpicking little flaws to get under your skin or be the biggest sap whenever you're feeling down; he knows you like the back of his hand.

"This is so stupid," you breath out a shaky chuckle "Jesus, I'm crying in an elevator–"

"It's not stupid," Steve reassures "we're all just very happy, right?"

"Yeah." You nod.

Squeezing your side, Steve let's you know he's there and plants a kiss to your temple before resting his chin upon your head.

"I love you, sweetheart."

Bucky can't quite believe it himself; just a month ago he labeled Steve Rogers as his arch enemy and wish bad things upon the blonde and now, now bucky hopes and wishes the blonde would treat you better than anyone else– welcomed Steve into the mess.

At ease, okay, alright but above all grateful. You didn't kick him out of your life or that of his kids– you wouldn't be the first mother to do such a thing, he's seen it on TV multiple times. Bucky's grateful that you and him still were a thing just not the same. Parents of your kids, friends.

Though jealousy would strike once in a while and he reminded himself of the mistake he'd made, It was good this way.

Big helium balloons in the shape of letters and numbers float above the table shoved against the wall, reading 'JJ 1 YEAR'. Silver birthday garlands hanging from ceilings along the baby blue and white balloons– table filled with snacks, gifts and drinks. Cramped in your apartment but done together– texting back and forth, nights of planning brought you all here, JJ his first birthday.

Friends and family here to celebrate something the two of you made from love.

Bucky leans against the kitchen bar, one hand tucked deep into the pocket of his jeans and the other wrapped around a bottle of beer. Eyes upon the small crowd gathered and lands on Steve, barely on his knees next to a side table, small plastic tiara on his head as Rosie applies makeup on the guy's face from the set she'd just got as a gift from uncle Sam.

Bucky smiles, at least you picked a child magnet, a guy who'll love his kids as much as the two of you do.

Bucky scans the crowd again and spots you without any problem, another smile on his face at the sight of his godchild hailey holding JJ, probably gossiping around with you.

It's good this way.

"Hey man."

Snapping out of his own world, Bucky meets the eyes of a man he hasn't spoken to in months; sam. Not since he got to learn about Bucky's mistake.

"Hey." Bucky shoots him a tight lipped smile.

Standing still next to Bucky, Sam leans against the bar in the same stance and follows Bucky's gaze to the crowd to you, his son and hailey.

"He looks like you." Sam confesses "scary."

Letting his head fall, Bucky chuckles and nods "at least we know it's mine."

Sam chuckles along till it dies down, silence falling over both men as they keep watching the scene in front of them. How you leave Hailey with her nephew and mingle with some friends– bucky can feel Sam's eyes burning on his face.

"Told you so, didn't I?"

Bucky snorts "Let's not go there, I've learned my lesson."

"Do you?" Sam quips with a grin on his face "No new love on the horizon?"

Bucky nods, he has learned his lesson and he knows he'll never find someone like you again– he has definitely learned his lesson and definitely not ready for something new.

"No man, I'm going to focus on my kids." Bucky breathes out a soft chuckle "apparently I still have two."

"Rosie loves you– I have to thank you for that, giving Rosie a father figure."

"Wouldn't trade it for anything else."

"I know."

Another, comfortable silence falls like a thick blanket. Knowing each other well enough to know what they're thinking– a smile creeping on both men's faces at the sight of you pushing yourself past some people and beelining towards the duo.

"Mind If I join?"

Scooting aside, both Sam and bucky make space for you in between and your arm that snakes around Bucky's back gives him a warm and fuzzy feeling– he pulls you closer into his side with his arm dropped over your shoulder

"A year ago you nearly passed out." You mumble softly

"I didn't pass out." Bucky scoffs

"I said nearly–"

"Not even nearly."

"The nurses had to sit you down."

"They never–"

"They did!"

It's a game of back and forth, getting underneath each other's skin and Bucky hopes things like this will never change even if you decided to spend the rest of your life with steve. The silly arguments, the silly fights and the lame jokes– bucky would be alright as long as that stayed.

The squeeze around his side makes Bucky aware you're still there. Locking eyes with yours, one's he's found himself lost in many times before, he copies your smile.

"What?"

"Nothing– we did good." You state.

Though things didn't go the way it was supposed to, the two of you did good indeed, more than good even.

"I think we did amazing." Bucky smiles back.

Wrapping his arm around your shoulder a bit tighter, he places a quick kiss on your forehead before following your gaze into the crowd, his daughter, his son, his family and steve.

It's good this way.

"So, guys," Sam clears his throat from beside you "really gotta know what happened on hailey her birthday party that day."

"No, you don't." You and Bucky chuckle in unison "you really don't."

Taglist: @farfromshawn @Nicollettemarie @wooya1224 @felicityofbakerstreet @agentmstark @sierrax023 @lilyevanswhore @qhbr2013 @buckybarnesobsessed @themaddies-obx @aloserwithoutacause @aanngie @sebby-staan @sweetth1ng @starrystarkey93 @libidinexx @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @gasly-kvyat @brown-bi-beautiful @peter-laufeyson @im-squished @meshlababy @lindseyrae20 @cb97skies @qwccrr @ssprayberrythings @yougottalovefandoms @jbcalway @realgaytrash @natyvwe @poetryazenth @winterberryfox @ahahafudge @okiegirl24 @0moondoodler0 @why-wait-4-eventually @abzidabzy

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #rosie and i*

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tjlikesprettythings · 4 years

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Joshua Tree Playlist-A Macriley Fic

So I’ve done it again, not sure what’s wrong with me or where this came from but enjoy my obsession. Thanks for the motivation and support from my other posts. I’m still waiting for my invite from Ao3 but wanted to share this monster with you guys.

This fic was inspired by music that I thought fit the general tone of this story, so I decided to make a spotify playlist linked Joshua Tree Playlist hence the name. Now of course you guys don’t have to listen to it, I know we all have different preferences, but I would recommend listening to the last song by Dylan Schneider “Wannabe” so you get the full context of what I was trying to write. I also mention the songs that I recommend listening to. Well anyways Enjoy and do let me know what you think!

This is very long, just a heads up! Please let me know if I should continue writing.

Joshua Tree Playlist

Chapter 1: Day 1

Mac sat on the deck after his run, another sleepless night. The nightmares felt more and more real each day. Looking out on the early morning LA skyline he felt like a stranger in his own life. There was so much anger in him that he didn’t know what to do with himself. The loss, the tragedy that was his life felt like a weight he couldn’t bear. He’d give anything to go back to that pressure chamber in Georgia again instead of this, at least things made sense then. He was spiralling, he was aware. Scrubbing his hands across his face he let another breath pass. He didn’t hear her coming but saw her shapely bronze legs standing in front of him dressed in khaki shorts and a black singlet one hand holding a backpack and the other on her hip. It was definitely early for her to be up, especially on an off day.

He raised an eyebrow at her, “what’s up Riles?”

“Get up, we’re going on a trip.” She simply said swinging the backpack at his feet.

“What?” he was confused by the situation unfolding in front of him, maybe he was dreaming?

She turned to walk back into the house, “You heard me Macgyver, get your ass in the car in 5!”

He stood up and swiped the backpack off the floor and chased after her. She was already in the truck sunglasses pulled down with her arm out of the window, fingers drumming against the door. “Riley.”

She nodded her head in the direction of the car, “come on, we haven’t got all day! Get in!”

He could have stood his ground but honestly, he was too tired to argue with her. So he threw his backpack in the back and got into the passenger seat. She started the car and connect her phone to the Bluetooth, a playlist called Joshua Tree Playlist that was curated by Riley Davis came on the on-screen deck. He discovered that Riley didn’t just listen to Beyonce, old school rap, and rock. Her music like her was multifaceted and ranged from what you’d expect to complete surprises. He even walked in on her listening to Harry Styles to which she had just shrugged and simply said “I’m confident in myself to like what I like, besides watermelon sugar is a tune.” But currently, she quickly scrolled and threw on Mumm-ra’s “Summer” the indie rock song had a classic indie bass and guitar combo as the intro, she shimmed her shoulders to the music. He couldn’t help but actually crack a smile at her antics.

Her head turned to him then as she bopped to the music and gave him that brilliant smile lipping the words to the song “I’m only happy in the summer...I’m only happy with you, lover...” She was like a prism, all clear but as soon the light hit her she was vibrant colors and sounds. “Now that’s more like the Mac I know. Nice to have you back for a second.”

Her words hit him fully, leave it to Riley to bring him back down to earth. To notice that he was struggling. He didn’t know what to say, so he opted for the next best thing. “Are you going to tell me where this semi-voluntary kidnapping is going?”

“Hey, no kidnapping vibes here. We’re taking a couple of days and chilling out. Matty already approved it. We have four days to ourselves. So we’re going on a road trip! Next stop Joshua Tree.” She simply stated as she drove down the hill and towards I-10E.

He widened his eyes and gave his head a shake, letting loose a chuckle he threw up his hand and let them slap his highs. “Ok! I’ll bite.” the brilliance of her smile made him feel like he made the right choice, the breeze already warm blew in through the open windows, the loose strands from her bun floating around her face.

“Yea! Bozer is going to meet up with us there, he has an errand to run before. Unfortunately, Desi can’t make it, she’s on a mission.” she said sparing him a glance.

He shifted in his seat if he were honest, he was now just looking forward to spending time with her and Boz. “Yea, probably for the best.”

She didn’t say anything waiting for him to continue if he wanted to. The great thing about Riley was she pushed when there was something worth pushing for but otherwise gave him space to talk to her on his own time. Without saying it, he could feel her body asking him if he and Desi were ok.

“I’m not sure I’m what she needs right now.” He simply stated and the unstated that he probably didn’t need their complicated and messy relationship right now either. They were too volatile and while that gave spark to great sex, it left everything else scorched and untouchable. It wasn’t fair for Desi to be stuck with him while he was stuck in his head.

He watched Riley shift in her seat, lately, he noticed there was a strange distance between them but then here she was stealing him away as the old Riley would. Maybe four days would give him the answers to why he felt like she was slipping away slowly, the thought put such a tight feeling in his throat, he couldn’t lose one more person. Especially not Riley, not his amazing, smart, loyal, beautiful friend singing along to a cover of Billy Joel’s “Vienna”. Suddenly it was easy to smile again, it didn’t take all of his efforts. “Hey, did you pack my bag for me? Or am I gonna have to survive in these running clothes for four days?”

He didn’t think to change when she gave him 5 minutes to meet her at his truck.

“I got you, Mac, everything you need is in there boy! Why would I give you an empty backpack?” she tapped on with the music and threw him another smile. If the next few days were going to be filled with smiling Riley he was already glad she kidnapped him voluntarily.

“Did you go through my underwear and sock drawers?!” He asked narrowing his eyes and laughing as a soft blush spread across her cheeks, Riley Davis can be bashful what do you know.

“I mean we’re all adults here, no need for this juvenile behaviour. Yes, I packed your undies and socks.” He could see her rolling her eyes behind her sunglasses, but he was amused by the blush that graced her face. Mac always thought Riley was attractive, men and women constantly commented on her beauty. Her looks helped them with countless ops. He wasn’t blind, just looked past the obvious. She was his friend, Jack’s daughter, and a relationship he couldn’t sacrifice. But these moments when they’re alone and he could look at her and steal glances he saw just how gorgeous she was as a being.

They had become closer the past couple of years for sure, he felt completely at ease with her. Could talk to her about anything, seek her counsel about things that were on his mind. She usually could read him already ready to jump into whatever stupid situations he got himself into. Even now he couldn’t believe that she followed him into Codex. She had told him she trusted him, and he felt like he could breathe just from those words. Knowing she stood with him gave him the strength to follow through.

They stopped for coffee and bagels, laughing about the guy in front of them that took ages to order. They made fun of a couple of housewives of Beverly hills type and how Bozer would’ve recognized who they are. It was just easy his mind kept saying to him. When he pointed to a smidge of cream cheese in the corner of her mouth, she attempted to licked it away with her tongue, he couldn’t help but gulp down some of his iced coffee and watch her miss it. Reaching over he brushed the side of her lips and without thinking licked his thumb clean. She froze for a second and looked at him with an intensity that he couldn’t read. “You were struggling” he shrugged.

“Thanks,” was all she said with an almost shy smile, unaware of course of how that small act sent fire all over her. She was thankful that she was on her last bite and he was already finished with his bagel, now casually leaning back in his chair letting the sun warm his face, his golden hair casting a halo around him. She needed to run away, “ready to start the journey again?”

Smiling he stood, they took their unfinished coffee and bottles of water with them. For the next 15 minutes, they joked about the new episodes of Rick and Morty, as more of her playlist played in the background, glancing at the screen he saw the current song was “Good Life” by Randell Kent. The lyrics washing over him as they finally pulled into the expressway. This could be a good life, at least it felt that way right now.

They passed the next 15 minutes in silence, but it was the kind they had often where it was just comfortable. They didn’t feel the need to fill the void. They just listened to music and watched the road and let their minds wander.

She hummed along with the new song that came on, he never noticed that she had a pretty nice singing voice. “...don’t overthink it...just surround me...hmm” LÉON's "Surround Me" played in the car. He leaned against his window and watched her quietly. “Why don’t you take a nap, I know you didn’t sleep much last night. We’ve got another 2-hour drive ahead of us.” She finally says to him softly turning the music down a bit and rolling up the windows opting for the ac.

Of course, she noticed, it wasn’t a big secret that he had been spiralling out of control. He wasn’t sleeping or eating well, his mind obsessing over Codex. But now there was nothing but a jumbled mess of things and just pure grief and exhaustion left behind in the aftermath. Strangely enough, he actually felt ok enough to take her up on the offer, she made him feel safe. Knowing she was going to be here when he opened his eyes brought a feeling of comfort and peace he was struggling to have, it was like the darkness couldn’t get to him. “Yeah ok.”

He drifted and for the first time in a long time found sleep came quickly and a dreamless sleep took him over. No nightmares, just soft hum engulfed him. It was when he felt warm fingers on his cheek brushing back some hair did he open his eyes and came face to face with Riley’s hazel eyes and full lips. He blinked a few times to adjust to the light. “Hey,” she said softly.

“Hey, are we here already?” He asked sitting up, it didn’t escape his mind that he didn’t mind that Riley was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes, it never did but he filed it away with any other thoughts that ever came into his mind about her that seemed more than friendly behaviour.

She stepped away from him and cleared her throat and nodded, “yea, we’re here. I’m glad you got some sleep” she smiled again. She was entranced with watching him sleep, she almost didn’t want to wake him, he was beautiful, soft and so vulnerable in this moment. She knew how much he was struggling, which made her predicament even more complicated. How could she tell him she would be moving out? Instead, her brilliant idea was to steal him away for a few days. She was playing with fire, but she also knew that as strong as he was, any more change might send him over the edge. She decided she’ll tell him about her move after this trip, but her priority will always be to protect him, her heart can deal with it.

His own faced turned up, “yeah I guess I needed it, and who knew what I needed was you humming off-key to songs in the background to fall asleep.” She swallowed and told her heart to stop its stupid summersaults.

“I’ll make you some tracks and make sure they’re extra off-key! I’ll be your white noise” she said quickly teasing back.

“My very own ghost.” his eyes crinkling in the corners. This was the most she’s seen him smile in a while.

Rolling her eyes and doing a mock laugh “careful or I will haunt your ass for real” to which she got full dimples, this was going to be four long days.

“Ok so I got us a house actually” she cheekily said pointing at the well-maintained terra cotta colored house they were parked in front of on top of a hill surrounded by sky and desert landscapes with cacti and boulders, the house faced the road below that brought them into town. The front porch had a couple of lounge chairs, a table for four, a couple of lanterns neatly hung around the arches and a small pathway that led to a circular covering what he deduced was the hot tub. There were shrubs and succulents neatly planted around the house giving some green to the otherwise very warm hue of the area.

Mac looked around and already his head felt lighter under the sky that just seemed bluer here, probably because the air pollution was nonexistent here. He sheepishly said, “I kinda thought we’d be camping,” rubbing the back of his neck, “but the house looks nice.”

“Listen, we can camp I bought everything, but we can also stay in this awesome house with a hot tub, pool, and functioning toilets and showers.” she shrugged tucking her hands into the back pockets of her shorts. “What can I say, I’m a city gal and honestly we do ‘camp’ a lot for work.”

He shook his head lightly, “yeah I guess you got a point there,” thinking of all of the times they did camp out without any real equipments. “You thought of everything huh?” He asked softly taking her in fully. “Thanks, Riles.” watching her smile and nod made his heart feel warm, a feeling he’s been missing for a while.

As if on cue Bozer pulled up behind them. Riley’s smiled widen. Mac turned towards the car and he thought he was seeing a ghost. Then he heard the familiar sound of a Texan drawl. He turned to Riley wide-eyed and then back at where Bozer stepped out of the car with a shit-eating grin and next to him was none other than Jack Dalton.

“How’s it going hoss!” He waved with a laugh as he approached Mac and took his hand and pulled him into a hug.

“Jack! Man, it’s so good to see you.” Mac said hugging the older man hard, he felt his eyes water just a bit.

Jack pat his back and pulled away smiling, “it’s good to see you too, kid.”

“Yeah, the OG gang is back together” Bozer claimed jumping with excitement.

Jack turned to Riley and embraced her, “Hey baby girl!” Pulling her off the ground as she shrieked with laughter. Riley held onto Jack for a moment longer before releasing him and smiling, she didn’t hide the tears that were softly rolling down her face now.

“I’m so glad to have you back.” She said softly. Jack brushed away tears from her cheek and nodded.

“Me too.” he turned to look at his crew and smiled at the kids that somehow came to mean the world to him. “So we ready for this crazy weekend or what?!” his arm still around Riley.

“Hell yeah!” exclaimed Bozer already heading to the trunk of his car to grab his and Jack’s bags.

Mac just stood dumbfounded for a second taking in the 3 most important people in his life and finally feeling something, he’s been so scared that something in him was shifting but seeing them here smiling at him brought back the warmth he felt has been slowly seeping away. “Thank you, guys.”

“Come on man, we’re family,” Bozer said squeezing his shoulder.

“You always got us,” Jack added a giant grin. “Alright now, let’s get settled and decide what we’re doing. I’m craving a cold one for sure!” He said picking up his bag.

Riley on cue walked over to the door and pressed in the security code into the door handle and opened up the door. “Welcome to the digs boys, we’ve got the living room” pointing to the right, “the master bedroom just past there as well as the second bedroom. Just ahead is the dining room and kitchen, around the hall to the left we have the other two bedrooms and bathroom. Laundry room and back porch with the grill AND pool. You saw the fire pit and hot tub in the front of the house.” she said sweeping both her arms around the house that was meant to be their home for the next four days.

“Damn Riley! You did good!” Bozer said as he scanned the house, decorated with a mix of modern and country house feel. Walking over to the kitchen he hummed in approval, “I can work with this! I’m gonna grab the groceries!” he bounced back out the door.

Jack gave a whistle of approval, “man, after the places I’ve been sleeping in, I’m gonna sleep like a baby!” as he went around ducking into rooms and giving his approval.

Mac didn’t care much about the house but did agree it was a nice one with all the comforts of home.

Riley suddenly stood in front of him and gave him a warning “Macgyver don’t use any part of this house, I would like to get my deposit back.” He laughed holding up both hands in agreement.

Jack turned the attention back to the group, “ok kids whose taking what room?”

“Riley should have the master,” Mac said right away. Jack did jokingly protest that he’s the one who’s been sleeping on rubbles and jungle floors. Bozer bounced into one of the bedrooms to the right, jack decided to take the bedroom next to Bozer. Which left him and Riley to the right side of the house. “Masters all yours.”

She smiled, “umm you sure you don’t want it?” to which he shook his head, all of the bedrooms where sizeable with queen beds and dressers, it honestly didn’t matter and being the only girl they didn’t mind giving her the room with space and vanity table so she can paint her face as jack put it to which she rolled her eyes. “So there is the bathroom down the hall next to the other bedrooms but one here on our side the bathroom is actually in the master, so feel free to use it if you need it. The shower in there looks amazing!” She said nervously.

He smiled “yea ok.” He helped her unpack the car and bring her bag into her bedroom. He looked around “maybe I should take this room,” which earned him a light shove at his shoulder and he chuckled.

“Too late it’s mine now. Ok! So I say we get changed grab some lunch and chill for a bit while we plan the next few days.” She laid out the plans looking up at him both hands on her hips and she stretched forward towards him. That familiar hammering came back in her chest, the next thing she knows he’s embracing her. “Mac…”

He just needed to be close to her just for a second, releasing her from the embrace he softly said, “I just...I know I said thank you, but really, thank you.”

She held onto his biceps and squeezed them, ignoring the way that made her feel she just smiled at him “hey what are friends for if not to kinda kidnap you for a mini-vacation.” He laughed and she decided that was her favorite sound. Letting her hands fall to her side, “go get settled, I’m sure Boz will make us something to eat, I’m starving.”

He smiled once more and left her standing in the middle of her room feeling so many things. The next four days were going to be the hardest four days of her life she reminded herself again. She survived two years in prison, she’ll be fine, she hoped. Taking a deep breath she walked into the kitchen where she could already hear Jack and Bozer.

Bozer was laying out sandwich meats and cheese he had picked up while swatting Jack’s hands away from stealing slices of the cold cuts. She felt a bit emotional seeing them goofing around, something about Jack being home made her feel like everything was going to be ok, that Mac would be ok and she would have the strength to get over what was currently happening to her in regards to Mac.

“Some things never change.” She heard Mac say softly now changed into a pair of trousers t-shirt and button-down. “Thanks for the clothes you picked out, I don’t think I could have picked better.”

Again she felt her face warm, what the hell was wrong with her. She couldn’t recall a time that she felt this affected. Usually, with guys she had found attractive, it was always coyness and subtle flirting but never did something so simple trigger this kind of response. She chalked it up to the heat even though the state of the art thermostat read a cool 70°. “Yea, of course, you’re welcome. And I’m glad that some things don’t change.”

Mac looked down at her, he agreed but maybe some things changing wouldn’t be too bad. Pulling up the chair at the kitchen island, they took the beers Jack handed them one by one raising his bottle “it’s good to be home, cheer!” They all clinked the bottles together and shouted cheers. Jack took a long swig off his beer, “Damn that’s good.”

Mac couldn’t help but feel like he was transported back to a couple of years ago when things were simple and good. They saved lives and had fun. Everything seemed so much heavier and complicated these days. But right now at this moment, he felt the most present he’s felt in a year.

“What are we having Boz, I’m starving!” Riley whined softly.

“Girl I got you covered. I’m making a medley of sandwiches, you got a Cuban, prosciutto and mozzarella with balsamic vinegar and basil, and a BLT coming at you with my homemade mayo,” he said already working on prepping the bread with condiments.

“Damn Bozer, have I missed your cooking!” said Jack with an excited glint in his eyes.

“So I was thinking we take it easy for today don’t know about you guys but I could take a dip in that pool, we’ll start early morning for the hikes, if we want to camp tomorrow night we can, day 3 and 4 are open for whatever you guys want to do. We need to be back in LA by noon on monday.” Riley laid out the plans.

“Pool party, I’m in,” Jack said nodded seriously.

“Me too! I can’t remember the last time I just had a day to do whatever I wanted.” Bozer said thoughtfully while working on their lunch.

“Yea, it’s been a lot going on hasn’t it.” He said picking at the beer bottle label. The room fell into silence for a moment, each reviewing the events of the past year if not longer. They lost so much as a collective but Mac and the most.

Jack took another sip finishing off his beer and shook his head, “Nah, we’re here to have fun, let’s focus on that.” grabbing one of the pickles that Boze laid out, Bozer gave him a side-eye but said nothing. “This weekend we’re gonna unwind and be thankful for this beautifully weird place. Nothing is blowing up, no one is shooting at us, the worst thing will be the hangovers and food comas,”

Riley and Bozer both collectively knocked on the wood of the kitchen island, “don’t jinx it!”

To which Mac proceeded to explain that ‘jinx’ wasn’t a scientifically proven, and went into a ramble about logic. It wasn’t until he noticed all three of his friends smiling affectionately at him that he stopped dropped him head mouth curving into a smile. He knocked on the wood too just in case.

Twenty minutes later Bozer served them his masterpieces as he called them, and they all agreed that they were works of art. Jack had caught them up as much as he could on his mission with the deltas and catching Kovac, leaving the classified information out. It seems so natural that they wouldn’t give details, that they understood that somethings they could never talk about again.

Finishing off his third sandwich Jack stood to plug his phone to charge “can you believe this phone lasted me almost 2 years?!”

To which Mac rolled his eyes but his mouth still twitched upwards. “I can’t help that a phone has key components for most builds.”

“Yeah you left and it became either me or Riley. I feel like it was mostly me though.” Bozer said pouting.

“Appreciate you picking up the slack, I already upgraded my insurance just in case.” Jack pointed at Mac. To which Boze and Riley hollered.

Mac held up his hand and shook his head, “hey man I promise if I don’t need it, I won’t ask for it.”

“Alright, Alright let’s get to the pool!” Jack said already pulling his shirt over his head. “Riley throw on some tunes, preferably something country or rock or close to my generation that we can all enjoy.”

It was Riley’s turn to roll her eyes, “don’t worry old man, I got us all covered. A bit of Brooks and Dunn, a bit of Ozzy, a bit of Technotronic, a little Beyonce, and of course Drake for Bozer.”

Mac’s face squinted into lines. “Wait is Techtronic for me? Or is Beyonce for me?”

She laughed, “guess you’ll just have to find out, though I do recall you know the lyrics to at least one of Techtronic’s’ song.” her own eyes squinting to tease him. “Alright, I’m gonna go change, be right back.”

“Yeah ok fair enough, but only cause it was on the radio…saved your booty,” she heard him mumble as she passed him patting his shoulder.

The guys were already set up by the pool when she walked out. Bozer managed to find a pool floaty from where they didn’t know and mildly suspected he might have packed the one that he was currently laying on and enjoying the sun. Mac and Jack sat next to each other with their feet in the water.

“I’m sorry about your old man.” Jack finally said softly.

Mac’s lips pulled into a line before he sighed and looked down at the beer bottle in his hand “yea, as it turns out its hard to be mad at a guy that always chose the utilitarian method. He sacrificed himself, I wish I could just be sad or just angry but how I feel is just…” he didn’t know himself.

“Hey man, I get it. I know what it’s like to lose a father. No matter who and how he was as a person, he was still your dad.” Jack said placing a hand on Mac’s shoulder and giving a light squeeze. “But you know I‘m here if you gotta sort through all the jumbled mess in your head. I’ll be your sounding board.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that” He did appreciate it, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to, let alone where to start to untangle the mess that his life became. He was brought out of his brooding when Bozer whistled loudly.

“Damnnnnn Riley!” to which Jack knocked him off his floaty, when he resurfaced drawing water away from his face he whined, “I was just paying her the compliment she deserves!”

Mac knew that Riley had an amazing body, her tight jeans and crop tops proved this countless time if not by the countless gowns and tight dresses she had to wear for ops, but they’d never seen her in a bikini in the four years of working together. He swallowed hard and pretended not to stare, but it was hard when she was all bronze and glowing, toned abs and round hips, her smile radiant even if her eyes held a teasing annoyance at the attention. It suddenly felt hotter than 89°.

Jack knew better than to tell her to cover up, and he knew that he could trust these guys but still, he pouted about her lack of clothing. “Jack, what do you want me to wear to the pool, a potato sack?”

“No, but...never mind!” he just mumbled.

She shook her head, but she was trying to distract herself from the fact that Mac had looked at her hard, their eyes locked for a second and she could’ve sworn she saw something there, the way his adam’s apple bobbed make her skin tingle. She decided that she’d read it as a compliment.

The rest of the afternoon passed with a game of pool volleyball, naps here and there or reading, Riley’s playlist playing in the background. Memories being solidified to sounds, smells, and feelings. She chided them to apply sunscreen and even offered to help with their backs.

“Riley not sure if you’re aware but I’m black,” Bozer said to her proudly.

“So? Black people burn too and are you trying to get cancer?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

Deflated he shook his head no and sat down. One by the one they gave up the protests as she threw savage shade at them. She applied a boatload of sunscreen just cause they gave her a hard time and decided to snap some pictures as well for blackmail of course.

Mac was last and sat in front of her as she steeled herself and slowly applied the sunscreen to the back of his neck, the hair at his nape tickling her fingers. She worked quickly and ran her fingers between his shoulder blades down his back. She felt him tense and worked faster. As much as she enjoyed being able to touch him like this, it was also inappropriate. He didn’t know about her feelings, and she felt sleazy as if she were taking advantage of a friend. Closing the bottle cap shut, she lightly tapped his shoulders, “done, now you don’t have to be an embarrassing lobster.” She weakly cracked.

He wasn’t new to attraction, or the body’s response to the said attraction. He didn’t expect to be so affected by her fingers running down his back, her nails making a slow trail that left him imagining those nails digging into his back for a completely different reason. He cleared his throat, “thanks, wouldn’t want that.” he managed as he looked over his shoulder. Fuck him, she was adorable as she chewed her bottom lip and nodded. Ok, maybe four days of this Riley was going to be a challenge.

Around later afternoon everyone decides to shower and get ready for the evening, agreeing to head into town and grabbing dinner there. They decided with the drinks they’ve had best to grab an Uber into town. The awkwardness of the poolside sunscreen still fresh as they piled into the car. It was a short ride but felt long as Riley sat squeezed between Mac and Bozer. Bozer just grinned, of course, him knowing her feeling about Mac was going to be her downfall. When they were dropped off, She felt like she had been holding her breath for hours.

“You ok?” Mac asked her to which she nodded.

“Yep, just need a drink!” His brows raised and he seconded that feeling because he definitely could use one.

Walking around the old Pioneer town setup, Mac explained different tools and contraptions that were displayed around the old buildings from the 1800s, Jack dazzled them with stories about Texas that either made no sense or was inaccurate according to Mac, Bozer, and goggle. They decided to have dinner at Pappy and Harriet’s Pioneertown Palace, where the smell of barbecue wafted through the warm evening air, They could hear the bustle of music and glasses clinking. Bozer was already rushing in to get them a table saying something about getting his hands on some ribs. Jack hollered that he has to see if this place is as good as Texas barbecue.

Mac looked down at Riley as her eyes sparkled with excitement the earlier awkwardness finally forgotten. Even though they’ve been everywhere in the world, this place had her vibrating. “I never knew you were a fan of the country life.”

She laughed, “I don’t know, I didn’t think that I was either, but there is something about this place that just, I dunno gets me kinda hyped.”

“Hey, guys they have a table for us!” Bozer shouted over the live music and chatter. Apparently they came on open mic night and the local dentist was doing this rendition of Hank Williams’ “all my rowdy friends” and killing it. The energy was just infectious.

They sat down as Bozer rubbed his hands together, “I already know this is gonna be the bomb. I mean can you smell that hickory?!”

“Hell yea I can!” Jack chimed in.

Mac smiled at his best friends, Bozer and Jack were always bouncing off each other in any room the three of them were in, but since Riley came into the picture they’re better behaved. They listen to song after song and the cheers of the crowd as they ate. Jack approved and hummed in appreciation.

“I’ve missed this, the good ole USA, bbq, and country blues.”

“Every song is about beer, a truck, a woman, but man is it catchy” Bozer stood busting out his moves as he called it.

“Jack, it makes sense you should feel right at home at this place.” She said with eyes twinkling.

Mac took a swig of his beer and chuckled, “This whole place is Jack if he were a bar, maybe throw in some Black Sabbath and ACDC in and you have Jack.”

Jack grinned and nodded, “ok, ok, you’re not wrong. I’m totally digging this place.” His eyes finding the eyes of a pretty blonde at the bar.

“Classic...” She agreed, crinkling her nose up in that adorable way when she found something slightly distasteful, thought Mac. For a moment they took the time to acknowledge the man who became a father to them both with affection. If they ever have to thank someone for their sincerity they could claim Jack as one of the big influencers. They’re musing was broken by Bozer shouting,

“Guys come on lets dance, how often do we get to do this anymore?” Bozer ushered them onto the dance floor. He already found himself a couple of dance partners. Ph.D. in partying Bozer was out tonight.

It was true, they didn’t do these things anymore. Things haven’t been the same for a while. It’s only been about a year and yet he felt like his whole world shifted. An avalanche of shit hit him.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Jack jumped up and was already making a beeline for the woman at the bar. They could hear a vague “how you doing?”

Mac and Riley just rolled their eyes and joined Bozer on the dance floor as the new performer of the night decided to sing Shania Twain “Man, I Feel like a woman.” As soon as they joined Bozer, of course, within minutes Riley was stolen away for a dance. Mac was happy to watch her, the joy finally reaching her eyes today. Maybe they all needed this, a moment to stop and appreciate their lives.

He liked seeing her like this, Riley was always fun to be around. But right now she was everything he thought to himself, everything about her made his heart feel full. Finishing his beer off, he decided that he wanted to be the one to dance with his friend. The more he played with the word, somehow it didn’t seem enough anymore to call her that.

“Can I steal her for this dance?” he asked not really waiting for an answer already pulling her close to him. “You good?” looking to make sure he wasn’t misreading the situation.

She looked up at him and nodded, “yeah, I’m good.” looking down at their joined hands, it was this hand-holding that started the thud in her chest in Germany, and here it was hammering away. She was so screwed. There was a part of her mind that asked her, why not? He’s not attached anymore, so why not? But she knew better, he didn’t need this right now. He didn’t need her feelings to complicate his life. Lost in her thoughts or the blues of his eyes she wasn’t sure which, she didn’t realize the music was changing as the next performer took stage and cheers were heard.

The music changed to a slower one, something about it just seemed fitting and he’d watched her dance all night with other people but now it was his turn. He stepped up closer to her, her eyes on him as he took her hand and swayed with her. She laughed softly as they danced to a soft country song about a man who wanted to be a girl’s everything. How ironic.

“If you wanna be with a guy who's gonna bring you flowers A guy who's gonna talk on your phone for hours A guy who's gonna wanna hold the door for you When you wanna walkthrough A guy who's gonna pick you up A guy who's gonna take you out and make you Wanna get a little dressed up and get a little down”

She once told him that she wouldn’t mind a small town, the quiet, after all things they saw daily. He wondered if secretly she wanted to be one of those ‘girl next door’ country girl. He felt her warmth through the shirt she wore, his finger brushing the soft exposed skin of her midriff. It was like an electrical current ran through him, which was of course plausible and probably didn’t mean anything.

“I wanna be the guy with the roses Number on speed dial, ladies first, don't you know that's my style Hop into my truck I got plans We’ll head on down to Jimmy's and we'll do a little dance There's a lot of things in a small town a guy can be But if its by your side for the rest of my life Baby, you can call me, a wannabe (a wannabe) Be be a wannabe (a wannabe) (a wannabe) Be Be”

She knew how dangerous this was getting, but she couldn’t help herself just for this one song. Couldn’t help giggling when he spun her around and pulled her close. Couldn’t help but let her stupid heart thud at his deep laughter. Where she could touch him for a little while without question, without worry. She can feel the hair at the nape of his neck as she wrapped her arms around him because they were just dancing. This stolen moment getting filed away as one of the best nights she’s had to date.

“If you wanna be with a guy whose gonna give you The whole world from the back of a dirt road farm Scribbled in ink with a big heart a tattoo on my arm I'm talkin' kissin' like crazy, can't shut it down Can't you see how I wanna be the guy that you’re out with Arm that's your names on”

With every sway, he felt like he was taking a step towards where he should be. The person he should be and wanted to be. The doubt that has been clouding over him slowly clearing a little. He felt like he could finally see the light shining through. If someone like Riley could stand next to him as the world ended then life couldn’t possibly be that bad, right? So for now at this moment, he pulls her closer, lets her scent make him dizzy. Lets his hand splay across the small of her back to let each finger feel her.

“Be the lips baby that you wanna put your lips on All-day, all night, moonshine, sunrise, your favorite song There's a lot of things in a small town a guy can be But if it’s by your side for the rest of my life, baby you can call me A wannabe (a wannabe) (a wannabe) Be be a wannabe (a wannabe) Be Be”

There is a cheer from the crowd and she laughs “This song is fucking catchy,” She says as he dips her, the audible gasp vibrating through her to him. He decided then that he loved dancing with Riley. He loved her laughs, the way her whole face lit up.

“I wanna be the guy you make a life with, picket white fence with Maybe a little later hell even make a baby with Just you and me livin' that life long dream There's a lot of things in a small town a guy can be But if it’s by your side for the rest of my life”

He placed his forehead against hers and held her close. She glances up at him and his eyes hold hers. She’s mystified by their intensity, her body on fire from his breath fanning across her face. They were so close, he could kiss. He wanted to kiss her. As they got lost in each other, they failed to see the silly smile on Bozer’s face as he watched them or Jack who also softly chuckled from where he got distracted from wooing his lady friend Carla. If he was being honest, he can’t believe it took this long for them to get to this point. Well, he supposed he’ll have to have a chat with Mac about what he can expect if he hurts his little girl. Turning back to Carla he spared them one last glance then he was all Dalton, Jack Dalton.

“Baby you can call me, a wannabe (a wannabe) (a wannabe) Be be You can call me your wannabe (a wannabe) Be Be A wannabe (a wannabe) (a wannabe) Be Be”

The crowd clapped cheered and whistled around them, he held her eyes still in a trance. Something definitely shifted between them. She cleared her throat and let him go smiling. “Thanks for the dance. That was so much fun.” Turning to make her way through the crowd to their table where a fresh bottle of beer was waiting for them courtesy of Bozer she assumed. She didn’t wait to see if he was following.

The heat from the dance coming off her now as if she had a full HIIT workout. She took a sip of the beer and before she could swallow it, he was standing next to her.

“Riley…”

She gulped down the beer and looked at him, she was so fucked.

#macriley #mac x riley #riley x mac #riley davis #angus macgyver #macgyver #fanfiction #music fic #send heeeelp #work in process

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bebepac · 4 years

Text

WIP 06.17.2020

Another WIP Wednesday is upon us, and I’m back to work. I work the next 4 days (Wed-Sat) so i’ll try my best to work on these stories and get them out, as always I will try, but can’t make any promises. I usually don’t have to work Saturdays, but unfortunately this one I do, so that eats into my writing time, which when I’m working, I do a lot of my writing time on the weekend.

I am working on my last chapter of Scar Tissue before the Epilogue! Whaaaaat?!?!??!??!!?!? Thank you to everyone that’s liked, commented and shared this one. As It’s the first series I have completed. I’m sure if you messaged me about this story line, you guys know, my intent for Scar Tissue in the beginning was it to be a once shot, then I kept feeling like it had more potential, and then it evolved on me.

What are my fellow writers up to?!?!!?

Tagging: @queenjilian @burnsoslow @loveellamae @dcbbw @bbrandy2002 @nomadics-stuff @kimmiedoo5 @cordonianroyalty @cordonia-gothqueen @lodberg @glaimtruelovealways @custaroonie @texaskitten30 @janezillow @atha68 @my0123456789universe @kaitycole @indiacater @losingbraincellseveryday @furiousherringoperatortoad @marietrinmimi @hopefulmoonobject @annekebbphotography @sevenfuckslefttogive @ac27dj @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @ritachacha @mrsdrakewalkerblog @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @islandcrow @axwalker @sanchita012 @queenwalton @flutistbyday2020 @the-soot-sprite @gabesmommie1130 @mom2000aggie @jared2612 @gibbles82 @thanialis @ramseysno1rookie @lovablegranny @hopelessromanticmonie @datynasuha @storylineofnothing @coolpsychicempathhumanoid @cordoniaqueensworld @iaminlovewithtrr@thatdoctorownsme @seriallover99 @drake-colt-lover-99 @amandablink @kaishamarley @choiceswhodunnit @marshmallowsandfire @yukinagato2012 @princessemberphoenix @random-blog-of-random-stuff-etc @princess-of-fuckup @batgirlassociationofgothamcity

First up we have:

This is Who I Am

My Country is Burning Chapter 3

Bebe was completely exasperated. “Ellie! What is that in your hair?!?!?!?!?"

“I’m sorry Mommy."

"Is it chewing gum?"

"Yes, I fell asleep."

“With chewing gum in your mouth?”

Liam chuckled. Both of them had agreed Ellie was more like him, with her mannerisms and her seriousness. Maybe Ellie was a little bit like Bebe too. Bebe could fall asleep anywhere. When Bebe was pregnant with Christopher, she fell asleep mid sentence, talking to him, while eating an ice cream cone. It was only when the ice cream started melting down her hand, Liam woke her up. He thought it was hilarious, pregnant Bebe did not, and cried because it was a waste of good mint chocolate chip ice cream.

“Yes.” Ellie nodded.

“Where did you even get chewing gum from?”

“Uncle Maxwell.”

"He hasn't been here in two weeks?"

"He gave me the whole pack."

She noticed Liam walk out of the room.

"Go get it and bring it here."

"But Mommy…."

"Right now Eleanor Alexandria Rys."

Little Ellie stormed off, just as Liam walked in the room.

"Where's she going?"

"To get the gum your friend gave her."

"Don’t look at me like that Bebe. Technically, that's your brother you know, since House Beaumont sponsored you."

"I don't want to cut her hair Liam, she has such beautiful hair."

"You're not. Besides it's just hair. It will grow back."

Liam set the jar of peanut butter next to the comb.

"I mean it's different with Black hair. My hair doesn't grow nearly as fast as her's. Just the thought of us cutting her hair upsets me. Because in the Black World, our children have good hair."

"Is there such a thing as evil hair?" Liam played with Bebe's own curls, making scary, monster sounds. Bebe swatted Liam’s hand away from her hair.

"Yes there is, well bad hair. There has always been a negative connotation that darker skinned people’s hair is more coarse and thick, and harder to manage."

"Your hair isn't like that."

"I'm lucky. Without chemicals in my hair, when I wet it, it curls, or coils, just like our children's hair does. Not every Black person’s hair does that."

"Mine curls like that too, well it gets wavy."

"Yes, but we have different textures, Liam. My hair is more coarse than their hair, and the kid's hair is softer, than mine, but not as soft as your hair."

Ellie came back to the room in a huff. She handed Bebe the gum. Bebe raised her eyebrow giving her the Mad Mommy look.

"Miss Crown Princess, Queen Mommy is not liking that little attitude right now. It had better change fast."

"Mommy means business Ellie." Liam said as backup.

Liam looked at their daughter, who her face was still pink, with her arms crossed over her chest, with a sour, pouty look on her face. Even with her little mad face, he thought she was the most beautiful little girl in the world. No wonder he was the pushover, when it came to disciplining the children. Every time he looked at their children, he always thought that they made such beautiful children together.

"What are we going to do about her hair?"

"I already got it. Peanut butter. As many times as I got gum in my hair as a kid thanks to Leo. Ellie come here, Daddy will fix it."

Ellie looked back at Bebe. "Daddy, Mommy always does my hair. Do you know how?"

Liam's face registered shock, looking at Bebe for help.

"Daddy knows how to do this part to get the gum out, and Mommy will show him how to do the rest."

Liam pulled Ellie onto his lap, and worked the peanut butter around the gummed parts in Ellie's hair. Waiting for a few minutes then gently using the comb to get the gum out.

"Now we just have to wash it, so Daddy won't get hungry and add apple jelly to it too, and eat you up!"

He made munching sounds at Ellie as he kissed her cheek, causing her to giggle. He picked her up in his strong arms. Bebe followed them to Ellie's bathroom.

^*^*^*^*^* next story *^*^*^*^*^*

A Couple of Firsts

Pop’s Place Chapter 3

“So since your plan is for us to catch our dinner, I packed us lunch, Drake. Cuz there is no way in hell my F.A. is going to be on a boat all day starving to death. “

Drake laughed. “Don’t call yourself that Mia.”

She slapped her thighs. “What do you call that?”

“Sexy as hell.” He kissed Mia’s lips.

“Smart Man.” Mia giggled.

“I packed roast beef and cheese sandwiches, turkey and cheese, and because i’m a kid at heart, some PB & J as well. Some chips, some fruit, and sodas and water.”

“Damn girl, we are not trying to live on this lake for a week, and what kind of J?”

“My favorite, apple jelly.”

“Mine too Mia.”

“I just wanted you to have some choices. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I packed a little bit of everything.”

Drake smiled. He’d never had someone care so much about what he thought before.

“I’m low maintenance that way, I’ll eat anything. Turkey and cheese is fine, so is roast beef, even PB & J. Hell I’d eat one of each, if there was extra.”

“She smiled, you’re going out with a cook’s daughter, there’s always extra. That’s how we roll.”

She put the cooler on the table. Drake laughed.

“Where the hell did you find a hot pink igloo cooler at?”

“The Gentral, where else?”

( author’s note: The Gentral = Dollar General, a store that seems to be on every corner in the south, and you that was Walgreens, naw bro. It’s a Southern Thing, does a hilarious video where they are Dollar General execs, and they find out that they are not building new DG stores, that they are building themselves. HILARIOUS )

Drake smiled. “You 'bout ready?”

Mia grabbed her hot pink sunglasses. “I’m ready now!”

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^* next story *^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

The Recovery

Scar Tissue Chapter 13

Riley and Liam had been going to therapy for almost 9 weeks. They had therapy sessions separately as they were dealing with separate things, and marriage counselling sessions together.

They walked in the office holding hands. They never walked into the therapy room holding hands. They were usually so tense, and nervous. The therapist noted this as a positive step in the right direction as they had taken baby steps.

Dr. Murdoch looked at the two of them.

“How have things been since last week? Queen Riley would you like to start?”

“Things went okay. We moved back into our chambers from my old room this past week. I’m sleeping through the night completely there, so is Liam. I’m not having those panicky feelings in the room anymore like I'm being watched.”

“That’s good to hear Queen Riley. Did you do two complete the date nights I assigned?

“Yes and no.”

“The dinner date went great, I really had a nice time with Liam. It was just so nice just being the two of us, and we danced, and it was beautiful.”

“So then the massage date didn’t go well then?”

“I have no problems when I touch him, but I clammed up when he touched me.”

“Because of Drake?” Dr. Murdoch asked.

“Yes.”

Riley is it okay for me to go to Liam for a little bit to talk to him about things?”

Riley nodded.

She could tell by Liam’s body language he was angry and frustrated after what she had said.

“I don't know what else I can do Dr. Murdock. He studied what I did so he could use it against my wife, to make her think he was me, and now he’s turned her against me. It’s like he has tainted everything I’ve done, because he copied me so perfectly with her. And I love my wife, and I just want to be able to make love to her again. Laying next to her and not being able to touch her intimately is killing me. The last time we tried to make love, She screamed. My wife screamed because I was touching her!!!!!! Our guards burst into the room thinking she was being attacked.” We haven’t been intimate in over 4 months now. I miss her.”

“You think I don’t miss you Liam? Of course I miss you. I still want you.”

“THEN YOU SHOULD TRY HARDER!!!!”

“I AM TRYING LIAM!!! WHEN YOU TOUCH ME, I SEE HIS FACE!!!!”

“We’re going to take a break. King Liam, I need you to step out a few minutes, so I can have a few minutes alone with Queen Riley okay?”

Liam got up and walked out slamming the door behind him.

“I don’t know if we’re going to make it through this. Dr. Murdock because I can't let him touch me. He needs a level of intimacy, I can’t give him. I’ve even thought about asking him if there is anyone he wants to go into a Cordonian Agreement with, until I am able to give him what he needs again.”

“No, Queen Riley, that's not the answer. I’m afraid if you go that route, it will permanently drive a wedge between the two of you. You have to work through this together. Can I ask you a question?”

*^*^*^*^*^*^* end of chapter teasers *^*^*^*^*^*

#bebepac writes #wip wednesday

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cruecifymesixx · 4 years

Text

Love and Leather /Part Seventy/

Word Count: 9.6k

A/N: sorry it took so long, I’ve been sick plus I also have a part time job on top of my full time job now cause I like money and have a lot of trips this year. Anyways, holy shit! 70 chapters! It’s gone by super fast! Enjoy! Let me know what you think!

Warnings: Language

Taglist: @brideofdraculana , @xstarryeyesx , @aryssav , @miserablecunt @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol , @fandomshit6000, @anntheboneless @venus-calum, @justjodeye, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @hi-my-name-is-riley, @extremesadnerding, @thatbandchick39, @awkwrdcait, @countrygirlswonderland, @awesomealmostdopestudent, @romanticvengeance , @tashy-bear, @krazykatkay456, @terror-triplet, @shouttatthedevill @beachystars, @rodriguez025, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @s-outhie, @anxious-diabetic, @awkwardblackgirls, @rockersbox, @brooklyn-antiques, @shamelessobsessions, @jerseytaint, @lilytalebi, @criminalyetminimal, @motley-queen, @trapt-in-a-dream, @lunamadhatter99, @broke-n-bitchy, @thanks2pete, @slowandangry, @lovesick-heart0, @keepcalm-and-beyou, @miriampraez, @teenwolflover28, @lilyhw1, @motherloovebone, @random-internet-user-4471, @falcon-arrows, @talranocchia2001, @wheresmyvodkabitch, @waywardprincess666, @iluvmesomemarvelndc, @zoenicoles,@vamprlestat, @supersoldierballerina, @primal-screamer @electradestiny, @marshbev, @n0-sh0rtage-0f-faults, @cruebaby, @ggorehorror, @valentines-in-london, @miss2001babe, @nassauartist @cmft-jr-winchester, @bokkie92, @notworthyofyou1120 @xrosegoldwolfx @lauravic, @mgkobsessed, @chaoticvybe, @kellysimagines @thoughtsoftheantagonist @marvelismylifffe, @sleepyjunhong @meetthesixxter @sparxx27 @gingerspicetalks @kaitieskidmore1 @unknownoblivion @nevergoodenuffbutokaaayyy @kylieinwonderland @haileynicoleseavey17 @lavendersoundbarrier @ijustwanttokiss70srogertaylor @duffshairdye, @xxisxxisxxis, @findingmyth, @xpoisonousrosesx, @m0rnlngstar, @cranberrirolls, @oskea93, @love-struck-aries, @idumpyourgrass, @minxtruck, @i-want-to-shoot-myself, @cruesixxlover1991, @arianareirg, @fentitrbl, @dogmom2014, @sinningsixx, @motleycrueprincess

-October 1995-

“Are we there yet?”

I closed my eyes, bringing sunglasses over my face as i ignored Arianna’s persistency. I looked out the window, seeing all the mansions and perfectly green grass that was all too familiar. Arianna and I arrived in Los Angeles about an hour ago, with a trunkful of luggage as most of our stuff had already been shipped to the house.

“Mom, are we there yet?”

I looked over at her, noticing she was staring out the window, “Yeah, just a couple more minutes.” I assured her. Nikki had a driver pick us up from the airport as he was busy running around getting stuff and making sure the house was ready for when we arrived. He had left New York two weeks prior once I told him I wanted to come back home. Nikki was over the moon.

Arianna seemed to take us telling her we were moving okay? She was upset the first few days as she didn’t want to leave her little friends but then Nikki started telling her all the cool things in California and she was no longer upset.

My heart began to race as we parked in front of black gates before the chauffeur punched in the code and they opened up, “Mom! There’s daddy!” I smiled as Arianna pointed to Nikki who was sitting on the front steps with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. The car came to a stop as I helped Arianna get unbuckled before she opened up the car door herself and ran into Nikki’s arms.

I got out of the car, examining the house before Arianna’s fit of laughter and excited screams pierced through the air as Nikki scooped her up and covered her face in kisses, “I’ve missed you so much pumpkin! Did you have fun on the plane?”

“Yes! Mommy let me sit by the window! It was the coolest thing ever!” I forced a smile when she looked at me. I noticed there was now a water fountain in the middle of the driveway, I wonder if that was Brandi’s doing? Concrete planters by the steps were a new addition as dark red roses were planted, beginning to wilt in the autumn air

I heard a jingle plus the patter of paws run out the front door, “Anarchy!” I yelled her name before getting low and sticking my hand out. She approached me, tail between her legs as she growled a bit before sniffing my hand. She soon pounced on me, smothering me in slobbery kisses, “Oh baby, I’ve missed you so much! Look at you! You’re so big now!” My smile was wide as I scratched between her ears.

Arianna walked up behind me, “Be gentle with her, okay?” I muttered, showing Ari how to pet her softly. I stood up, dusting off my jeans as Nikki caught me off guard by picking me up.

“I’m so happy you’re home.” He sighed as I rubbed the back of his shoulders and kissed his cheek, “These are for you.” His grin was contagious as he handed over a bouquet of yellow sunflowers.

“Did you get her bedroom set up?”

He rolled his eyes, “Of course I did. Did you think I would slack off and not do anything until last minute?” I nodded, smiling at his words, “Well I didn’t! I’ve been busy getting the house ready for yours and hers arrival. Still cleaning out the downstairs guest room for your friend however she’s not important to me so I’m not rushing it” I smacked his sternum lightly, giving him a warning glare as he smirked and kissed my hand.

“Don’t start. Is my bedroom ready?” I asked, turning my cheek to see Arianna running around with Anarchy.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s the old guest room upstairs and her room is next to it.” He grumbled, “and I had the closet extended so you can have more room for all your clothes.”

My eyebrows raised in surprise, “Oh, well thank you. You didn’t have to do that. We have some luggage in the trunk. The rest of our stuff will be shipped out later this week and mom already has a buyer interested in the apartment.”

“Good. No more New York. Guy, you mind bringing their stuff in?” Nikki ordered the chauffeur as he nodded and began doing so, “Angel, you wanna go see your room? Check out the house?” Nikki spoke to Arianna as both her and the dog ran up to him.

“Mommy says you have a pool.” She cheered as Nikki grabbed her hand and they walked inside.

Anarchy stayed by my side as I patted her head, “I can do this.” I mumbled as I walked through the front door after them. My eyes immediately went to a crystal chandelier that was resting against the wall, looking up at the high ceiling and seeing a gigantic hole with wires sticking out. Patches of white paint were on the wall, that was no longer the off grey shade I remember it being. The floors were marble, shiny, sparkly marble but I noticed boxes of laminate wood off to the side. The couches I loved so much were replaced with sleek black leather ones, the coffee tables and rug were still the ones I had picked out years ago. He had let Brandi change everything in my house.

I stopped at the entry way table, putting the flowers down and looking into the mirror. I sighed heavily, feeling my gut wrench into a tight knot.

“We are over.” I said quietly, eyes full of tears as I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I tugged my face away from his hands as I stared down at the engagement ring around my finger before sliding it off and leaving it on the entry way table.

“Here.” Nikki pulled me from the deep corners of my brain as he walked over and placed a glass vase full of water down. He gently took the flowers, unwrapping the from the sheer pink cling wrap and placed them in the vase.

“They’re pretty.” I mumbled, feeling the soft petals as he chuckled, “Not as pretty as you.” I looked at him as his smile went away, “What?” I shook my head as I looked over at the boxes of wood and chandelier, motioning to them as he sighed.

“Having some remodeling done to get it back to how it was. Brandi changed a lot of things...as I’m sure you can tell.” Nikki explained as he looked around the living room, “I’m trying to figure out what shade the walls were but I can’t really remember. Thought maybe you would. Or we can pick a different color if you wanted.”

“The walls were a pearl white. There’s cans of them in the garage...or there was.” I shrugged, as I continued looking around the house. I felt Nikki following after me slowly, taking hesitant steps.

I stopped at the stairs, looking up them and then down the wall as basses we’re hanging, at least he finally found a place for them.

“Vanity! Stop! You aren’t leaving!” Nikki roughly grabbed my hand as he pulled me to him, “Please, Van. I didn’t mean it. I love you, you know I love you.”

“Do you love me?” I asked softly, turning around to look at him as he became confused.

“What?” He laughed, “Of course I love you. You know I love you.” He reached for my hand and pulled me to him before wrapping his arms around my waist, “Why’d you ask that?” He peppered kisses on my cheek and across my jaw.

“Just making sure...” I mumbled as he pulled away from me, but kept his hands on my hips.

As if he knew what I was thinking, “Look, I understand this is going to be difficult for you to adjust to but you have no idea how happy I am for you to be here with me, Arianna too. We’ll take it one day at a time, okay?”

I nodded as I stepped on my tip toes and kissed his lips, “Okay.”

“Ew! Cooties!” Arianna stepped between us and pushed us away from one another, “Where’s Auntie Clem?” She peered up at us as Nikki quickly picked her up and held her close to him.

“You moved here to be with daddy. I’m sure uncle Tommy is keeping her company. Go upstairs and check out your room sweet pea.” Nikki retorted as I brushed my knuckle over her cheek.

“She’ll be here in a few days. Tommy’s helping Clem finish packing up her things and then she’ll be here.” I assured Arianna as she nodded before Nikki put her down, “Come on archery.” She giggles as Anarchy followed her up the stairs.

“She’ll learn her name.” Nikki laughed, “So I was thinking, maybe this weekend we can have the guys come over? They wanted to come today but I told them you’d probably want to relax and unpack a few things before seeing everyone.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, “Yeah I’m kinda tired. I just want to shower and go to bed...” I looked around at some of the pictures on the wall , “Is all of Brandi’s stuff out of the house?”

Nikki nodded, “Yeah, yeah. She just has a few things to come get but they’re out in the garage. She keeps saying she’ll get around to coming over and getting it, but I’ll make sure you two aren’t home when she does in case she starts her shit.”

I smirked, “I don’t mind. Would love to see her actually.” I plopped down on the couch, they were uncomfortable and I hated the fabric. The leather felt fake.

Nikki chuckles as he came over and sat next to me, “No, no. The last thing I want is Arianna seeing your explosiveness.” He stretched out and rested his head on my thighs, “We also have a meeting on Monday to go see Arianna’s new school. I think you’ll like it. I looked and asked around to see which private school was the best.”

I nodded, running my nails through his hair as he closed his eyes and let out a soft breath of relaxation, “Home sweet home.”

After dinner I had gotten Arianna showered and to bed after her demands of digging through boxes so I can find a book to read to her. I dragged the remaining suitcases up to my bedroom. Anarchy ran in front of me as she jumped up on the bed and laid down.

“You know, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” I spoke to her as she wagged her tail and I crawled in beside her. I closed my eyes and ran my hand down her back, “I hope you bit her a few times.” I chuckled to myself, “...or at least growled at her.”

“Van come here!” I sighed as Nikki yelled for me, “Vanity!” I rolled my eyes as I pushed myself off the bed.

“Yeah?” I called out for him, rubbing my face as I walked out my bedroom door, “I’m in the bedroom!”

“Baby, just please let me explain.” I watched as Nikki grabbed a towel, almost slipping on the linoleum floor as he walked out of the bathroom and towards me, but I turned away from him, “Van, babe, I...I’m so sorry.” Nikki spoke softly as he wrapped a warm hand around my arm.

“What’s up?” I asked him as I stood at the bedroom door, seeing his back turned towards me as he was looking through his dresser for something. I cleared my throat and crossed the threshold. Black curtains hanged still but the walls were now a red shade.

“Sorry? You’re sorry!?” I rolled my eyes at him as I went opened the closet it door, causing it to slam against the wall. I grabbed a suitcase, throwing it on the bed before I started grabbing handfuls of clothing.

“I’m...I’m trying to find it. Where the fuck did it go?” Nikki mumbled to himself as he threw black shirts and black jeans on the floor.

“Find what?” I questioned as I looked at the disheveled bed sheets and the white bass that was laying on top of it.

“Babe, baby no. No, come on.” Nikki begged, “Fuck! Vanity!” I heard his voice crack, as it took everything in my being not to stop packing my stuff, “Van, please. Do-don’t leave.”

“Ah! Found it!” Nikki said as he pulled out a small satin red satchel. I crossed my arm over my sternum, holding onto my other arm as I took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly.

“Here. Um...here. It’s...just take it.” He smiled at me as he held the satchel by the string on the tip of his finger.

I reached out for it and held it in my hands, “Thanks..” I mumbled, “I’m gonna go to bed.”

He chuckled, “Aren’t you gonna open it?” Nikki’s hand reached for mine as he pulled me over to his bed, forcing me to sit down with him, “Here. I’ll just-“ he took it out of my hand before untying the knot and outcome that charm bracelet in the palm of his hand.

“Don’t leave?!? What am I suppose to do!!” I screamed at him, tears finally hitting me as I saw him jump at the loudness of my voice.

I watched as he clasped it around my wrist, “There.” His grin was huge as I looked down at it, before taking it off again and holding it.

I could tell that hurt his feelings by the way he shifted on the bed, “I’ll uh...I’ll wear it tomorrow or something. You know I don’t wear jewelry to bed.”

“Yeah, no, of course.” He spoke fast as he scratched the back of his head, “Just thought you’d want it back. Look...I added uh another charm.” His hand engulfed mine as I saw a emerald gem, “Arianna’s birthstone, i thought it would be a nice addition...”

I nodded as I got off his bed, feeling his eyes watch my every move, “Thank you. But uh I’m tired and I’ll see you in the morning.” He reached for my arm and pulled me back to him, “Nik-“ he cut me off by forcing his lips on mine.

“Just sleep in my bed tonight.” He spoke through the kiss, placing his hands on my ass as he pulled me on top of him and he lowered himself on the bed.

“It-it was an accident, okay? She was flirting with me and I just-“ I quickly picked up my studded belt and threw it at his head, watching him duck it as I then threw a single combat boot, seeing him wince as it hit his side. Stuffing your cock into someone’s mouth isn’t a fucking accident.

I put my hands on his shoulders and pushed myself away from him, but he wrapped long fingers around the base of my neck and pulled me back into a heated kiss, feeling his tongue find it’s way to mine. He rolled us over as I was underneath him in an instant, “Please baby?”

Nikki stared at me as I shook my head, trying to blink away tears as I was choking on a breath of air. His face softened as he got off of me, “Van...”

I brushed him off as I climbed out of his bed and started walking to my bedroom, but he was following me, “Vanity, I’m sorry.” He pleaded as I wiped my face. I couldn’t close my door fast enough as he blocked me from doing so.

I held the bracelet tightly, feeling the charms poke my skin as my back was turned towards him. I couldn’t control the loud sob that pushed past my lips, “I want...I want to go to bed.” I told him, not bothering to look at him or get undressed for that matter as I pulled the blankets back and got underneath them.

“I know it’s hard being here again.” He spoke softly, “I mean..I don’t know, but I’m assuming it isn’t easy being back here...with everything that’s happened. I’m sure it’s overwhelming for you, but doll, you don’t have a clue how happy I am. I know I’m just repeating myself but I truly am so fucking ecstatic you’re here again.”

I didn’t say anything in return as I buried my face in the pillow. I heard him sigh heavily, “I’ll see you in the morning. I love you.” I knew he was waiting for me to say it back but I just couldn’t right now. I was feeling way to many god damn emotions. Nikki leaned over the bed and kissed the back of my head before the lights turned out and my bedroom door was closed shut.

*A few days later*

Arianna screamed as she ran to the front door, “How fo you even know it’s Auntie?!” I yelled after her as she tried reaching for the door handle but couldn’t. I opened up the door for her and she immediately collided with Clementines legs, almost making her fall backwards, “Auntie! You’re here!!”

Clem stumbled back a bit before smiling, “What are you doing up? You should be sleeping cupcake!” Clem dropped her bags and picked her up, “I have missed you! Have you been having fun without me?” I rested against the door frame, seeing Tommy get out of the car and start getting luggage out.

“Mommy let me stay up! And I went to the zoo today and saw monkeys and the hippos!” Clementine smiled at Arianna as she yawned a bit, it was an hour or so past her bedtime.

“Oh the zoo? I am jealous. You’ll have to tell me more tomorrow after you wake up.” She put her down and walked over to me.

“Go tell daddy you’re ready for bed. He’s upstairs.” I nudged her inside as she went up them, waving bye to us from the top of the stairs. I turned to look at Clementine as she sighed deeply, “I have missed you.” I hugged her tightly as she squeezed me even tighter, “How was the flight?”

She rolled her eyes with an added groan, “Made me realize how much I actually hate flying. First class snobs are the worse, I should’ve just flew coach. But it was fine, tolerable.” I chuckled as Tommy came over with both hands full of suitcases and a duffle bag hanging off his shoulder.

“Uh her room is down the hall and past the living room and kitchen then the third door on the right.” I told Tommy as he nodded, not saying a single word or giving me a smile as he quickly brought them inside.

“What’s that about?” I asked Clementine as she smirked, “A very short leash.” I raised my eyebrows in surprise. I guess the whole ‘you’re still married’ conversation didn’t go too well.

“I got a bottle of your favorite wine.” I told Clem as she followed me in the house, “Are you hungry? We went out to dinner but I brought home leftovers.”

Clem shook her head, “No, I’m okay. We grabbed a bite to eat at the airport. Has he been good?”

“Nikki?” I chuckled as I grabbed the bottle of wine and glasses, seeing her smile and nod, “Yeah, he’s been good. Still trying to get use to everything and him again.” I pulled out the cork, making it pop, “He’s been nice, sweet. Too nice actually.” I poured the white wine into our glasses before handing one over to her.

“No shit talking? Wow, surprising.” Clementine retorted as I brought the glass to my lips.

“He hasn’t talked shit.” I mumbled, “That much.” I shook my head as Clementine rolled her eyes at me and sat down at the island bar in the middle of the kitchen.

“I won’t start. But Nikki talks shit more than he plays that bass.” Clementine spat out as I chuckled.

“That bass also paid for you to fly out here, for this house, oh and that bottle of wine.” My eyes went wide as Nikki walked into the kitchen at the wrong time, glaring solely at Clem. I glanced between the two before taking another drink.

“Should I throw money at you in thanks?” Clementine quickly fired back as Nikki rolled his eyes and took my glass from my hand and took a sip, “Thank you very much Nikki for allowing me to stay here. It’s very nice of you.”

I nudged Nikki’s side, motioning to Clem as he sighed, “You’re welcome.” Nikki murmured as he turned to face her and forced a smile.

“Nikki, I think Clementine has a lot of luggage. You should help Tommy bring it in.” I spoke as he looked over at me, closing his eyes before taking a deep breath in before opening them.

“Of course, princess.” He spoke through gritted teeth, griping as he stormed out the door.

“Short leash.”

After a while, Clementine and I were sitting outside around the fire pit Nikki had turned on for us as we finished off the bottle of wine, “Whoops.” Clementine chuckled as she accidentally kicked the glass bottle over.

“So, did you talk to Tommy about the whole Heather situation?” I asked as I leaned back into the chair and kicked my feet up on the ring concrete block ring around the fire pit.

Clementine looked over at me, “Yeah, he tried denying it at first but then eventually did tell me they were still legally married and said it’s just the lawyers bickering over who gets what or who deserves this. So now he’s been a total kiss ass ever since then.”

I smiled a bit, bringing the glass up to my lips when the boys came out, laughing as they walked over to us, “I’m sure it will smooth over.” I told Clementine as she nodded. I scooted over when Nikki came and sat by me, taking the glass of wine out of my hands and taking a sip before giving it back.

“Everything’s in your room and the rest of your stuff will be out here in the next few days, at least that’s what the moving company said.” Tommy explained as Clementine smiled at him.

“Thank you babe.” Clem smiled as she gave him a quick peck on the lips.

I smacked the back of Nikki’s head lightly when he pretended to gag, “Quit it.” He grinned at me before kissing the side of my arm.

“So, Nikki was telling me about having a party to celebrate you being back?” Tommy spoke as I chuckled, but nodded anyways.

“That’s what he wants. I don’t mind. Nothing too big just a few people. I wouldn’t want it to overwhelm Arianna.” I explained to him but looked at Nikki.

“I think a party would be nice. Gives you a chance to see all your old friends.” Clementine added as I smiled.

“Yeah, you could finally meet Lucia and Tonya.” I responded, seeing Nikki and Tommy exchange looks with one another but I brushed it off.

“I could pick up some burgers and hot dogs, if you wanted Nikki?” Clementine suggested as he looked at her.

“Uh okay? Yeah, sure that would be great...” Nikki muttered as made myself comfortable and rested my body against his chest and draped his arm over my torso.

“Thank you Clemmy. That’s very nice of you.” I added with a smirk as Clementine returned it back to me.

“Of course, but I’m beat. I’ll see you guys in the morning. Tommy? You staying the night?” I saw his eyes light up as he nodded his head feverishly.

“I mean...uh if it’s okay with you two.” Tommy looked at me and Nikki as I nodded.

“We don’t mind.” I smiled, “I’m not washing the sheets though.” Clem’s face turned red under the light from the fire as she grabbed Tommy’s hand and dragged him inside.

I closed my eyes and relaxed as Nikki’s knuckles ran over my thigh, “I haven’t seen or talked to Lucia and Tonya in forever. Are they still at the diner?”

I felt Nikki’s body become tense as I sat up and looked at him, “What’s wrong?” I questioned, poking his cheek to make him smile.

“Van, when was the last time you talked to Tonya?” Nikki asked but I shrugged.

“I-I don’t know? Maybe before I left? I uh I can’t remember? Does that make me a bad friend?” I frowned a bit as he sighed, “Nikki, what’s wrong?” I scooted away from him a bit as I tried to figure out what he was thinking but he was difficult to read. Nikki looked at me, his hazel eyes filled with sorrow.

“Babe, Tonya died.”

I tilted my head to the side, chewing on my bottom lip as I looked at him, “Nikki, that’s not funny…”

He exhaled deeply as he ran his hand over his face, “Vanity, Tonya died in ‘91, September to be exact. She got sucked into the junkie life and ended up overdosing on smack.��

I looked at him through teary vision as he reached over and held my hand, “She wouldn’t do that..she…she barely did coke with me. Nikki this isn’t fucking funny.”

“Baby, I wish I was joking, but I’m not. She started dating this guy. I met him once at the diner, I went there time to time after you left and one day I went and she was so fucked up. I offered to help her get clean but she didn’t want it. I’m sorry Vanity.” Nikki murmured as he brought my hand to his lips.

I sucked in a deep breath of air as I grabbed my glass of wine and chugged the rest of it, “And Lucia?”

Nikki smiled, “She got married in ‘93 I want to say? Popped out a kid in ‘92 then again last year. She just moved up to Washington right before I came to New York. Leo is a cool dude. Some car mechanic or whatever. Met him a few times.”

I stared into the fire, wiping my eyes as I shook my head, “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Nikki looked at me like I had grown three heads, “Van? Really? You left. No one knew where you were. Thank god Tommy was stubborn enough to annoy Greyson enough into telling him where you were.”

I leaned back onto the loveseat, looking up at the stars, ”Tonya’s dead.” I muttered to myself as Nikki kissed my forehead.

“I’m so sorry Van. She has a nice little headstone, I Uh…her family couldn’t afford a funeral so I paid for it, anonymously though. She was a bit mad at me, she dumped a milkshake in my lap after me cheating got out into the tabloids.” Nikki explained to me as I laughed.

“Well, wherever she might be…” I looked up to the stars again, “I hope she’s alright….and I’m happy she dumped a milkshake on you.”

Nikki rested his head against the seat, looking up at the stars too, “I deserved it. Shit, Lucia came to a show and threw a cup of beer that was aimed for me and ended up hitting Brandi.”

I chuckled a bit, “That’s Orion’s Belt.” I said, pointing to the three stars in a line, “It consists of Zeta, Epsilon and Delta. And then you have the Canis Major and Minor which represents his dogs.” I explained, glancing over to see Nikki squinting up at the stars.

“And all the way at the bottom is a constellation called Scorpius which is for the scorpion that killed Orion and the Little Dipper is his arrow while the Big Dipper is his bow.” I looked over at Nikki as his smile was huge.

“God, I love you. You always surprise me.” Nikki muttered as he kissed me sweetly.

“Daddy taught me that when he’d make Greyson and I go camping. Every time he’d ask me what stars they were until it was drilled into my brain.” I smiled weakly, feeling a twinge of pain as Nikki played with my hair.

“I found my dad.”

I smiled, turning to look at him, “Nikki! That’s-that’s wonderful! What is he like? Where does he live? Do you talk him a lot?”

Niki chuckled, shaking his head a bit “He died back in the late seventies. A heart attack on Christmas Day, so my half brother says.”

My heart broke for him. Knowing that he spent his whole life chasing the ghosts of parents that were never there for him, to only find out one of them was already passed.

“Oh….I’m sorry Nik.” I mumbled quietly as he continued running his fingers through my hair, “At least you found out you have a brother. I thought it was just sisters. Have you seen Deanna again?”

He brushed it off, “Ah don’t worry about it. He was already pretty much dead to me.” He laughed, but I knew better than that. I curled up against his chest and wrapped my arm around his waist snuggly, “As for my half brother…he was more thrilled to find out his sibling was Nikki Sixx. Dude told me he lost his virginity to ‘Home Sweet Home’ as we were standing on our fathers grave.”

I laughed a bit but reached up and kissed his stubbly chin, “As for Deanna, no. Haven’t seen her since you threw that birthday party for me. No call, no letter, nothing.”

My head rises with the deep in take of breath he took before he exhaled, “You’re a good parent Sixx. I’d choose you in every life time to be my baby daddy.”

A rumble of a laughter vibrates through his chest as he smooths his hand over my hair, “Well, I’d choose you in every lifetime regardless if we were able to have children or not.”

“You’re just kissing my ass now.” I giggled, pressing my lips to the tattoo on his sternum.

“Well, I can really kiss it if you want me too.”

*Saturday afternoon*

“You know, I think this party is a good thing. Two birds one stone. You can see everyone all at once and won’t have to repeat yourself over and over.” Clementine muttered as she stood behind me, zipping up the dress I had put on, “And maybe you should’ve worn something more comfortable. You’re at home, not an award show.”

I rolled my eyes, staring at her through the mirror, “This is comfortable and I can’t have anyone thinking just because I’m a mom now I can’t look hot, I mean, not like it’s hard or whatever.”

Clementine laughed, “Yes my majesty, you will outshine everyone as usual.” I nodded at words and grabbed onto her shoulder as I put my heels on.

“Do you think they’ll be nosy? Or judgmental? I know the band will be okay, or I hope. Vince can be mean sometimes and I don’t want to deal with it but I’m sure Nikki will tell him to fuck off if he does or if anyone does, or I hope he does. You think he will? Right? Nikki wouldn’t let anyone give me a hard time especially in our home? Right?”

Clementine looked at me with raised eyebrows as I sucked in a deep breath of air, “I’m going to throw up.” I mumbled, resting my hand on my stomach as I sat on my bed.

“Van, just relax okay? I think some might be a bit nosy but who are they to judge? They’re a bunch of LA snobs at least from what I could tell. I’m sure Nikki would tell someone off if they become a hassle and Vince, well, who gives a shit about him….just breathe, you’re getting worked up for nothing. You’ll have fun.”

I nodded as I combed my fingers through my hair, “But, I was sent up here to get you so…let’s go.”

We walked down the stairs as I heard the chatter of our guests as well as some rock music, “Where’s Arianna?”

Clem glanced back at me, “Shes running around with Skylar and some other kids, she wasn’t even shy like she usually is.”

“That’s great.” I mumbled, stopping by the kitchen as a platinum blonde who I’ve never met ran up to me.

“Oh my gosh! Vanity it is so good to see you!!” She was over zealous as she pulled me into a tight squeeze. I stiffened like a board as she gripped my shoulders and gently shook me around, “Gosh! Look at you! As stunning as ever!”

I stared at her, “Uh…yeah…thanks for um coming.” I cleared my throat as I tried remembering who she was.

“Well! I got to go! We will definitely have to get together for lunch some time! Talk to you later!” The blonde left as quick as she came, grabbing hands with a brunette and walking out my front door.

“I have no idea who she was. Who did Tommy invite?” I expressed as Clementine shrug it off.

“Maybe all your coke use as seeped into the memory area of your brain.” I glared at her as she chuckled in return.

“It’s called the hippocampus actually.”

She rolled her eyes at me, “I like you better when you’re not being a smart ass.”

I stepped outside, squinting as the sun was blinding me, “There you are!” Nikki came over, pulling me into his side as we started walking in the direction of the band, “The guys have been waiting for you. Worry about everyone else later, they don’t matter.”

Our backyard was half of people I couldn’t recognize and half being me thinking I knew who they were, I knew them but couldn’t put a name with it…so really, who was this party even for?

Nikki’s hand stayed on my lower back as he guided me over to the guys, who in return stopped laughing and ogled.

“Well, don’t be shy now princess!” Vince said, nudging Sharise off his lap as he got up and walked over to me. Vince shoved Nikki away playfully as he wrapped me up in a big hug and kissed my cheek.

“Nice to see you too Vinny…” I patted his shoulder as he pulled away from me and examined me in typical Vince fashion, “Still hot as ever.” He whispered before Sharise came over and gave me a hug.

“It’s been such a drag since Heather divorced Tommy and Brandi was such a bitch.” I smiled at her embrace as her doused in hairspray locks tickled my nose.

“So I’ve heard.” I chuckled as she smiled at me before going to sit with Vince again.

Mick looked at me, pushing his sunglasses up as I tried forcing a smile, “Hey…” I spoke softly as his tough exterior diminished as he pulled himself up slowly from the chair. I noticed he was slouched over a bit more then what I remember.

“What’s so special about Tommy? You let him know where you are but not me?” My smile faded away as I stared at him, “You just run across the country? Give birth to a beautiful little girl and you don’t even call me?”

Nikki stepped over to me, draping his arm over my shoulder, “Mick..” Nikki attempted to warn him, but even he knew better then to do so.

“Shut it.” Mick said roughly, “I’m talking to her, not you.”

I frowned a bit, “Mick, it was just-“

“Complicated?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing my head to nod at his words, “I missed you?” I said unsure of myself as he shook his head.

“Do you know how much of his bullshit I had to deal with the last few years?” Mick finally broke into a smile, “Had to keep his ass from doing anything stupid, all three of them actually.”

Nikki scoffed, “Hey! I was fine!”

I chuckled, moving away from Nikki and to Mick as I put my arm over his shoulder, “I would’ve called eventually. I still stayed in the loop of everything because of Tommy but thank you for making sure Nikki was alright, even if he was being an idiot.” Mick grinned, looking past me and at Nikki.

“Well, he’s always going to be a dumbass regardless. I’m happy you’re back Vanity. Hasn’t been the same without you.” Mick engulfed me in a hug as I rubbed his back gently.

“Have you met her yet? Arianna?” I asked Mick as he shook his head.

“No, but she’s busy being a kid so it’s fine. Sit, tell me all about New York.”

I chuckled as Nikki handed me a beer and sat down next to me, “Uh…it was okay. I lived at the top of an apartment building in Brooklyn and worked at a strip club as a bartender. Met Tommy’s girl, Clementine a few months after I moved to the city, had Arianna, raised her and now I’m here.”

“And tell Mick what else you did.” Nikki butted in, smirking as I flipped him off, he reached over and kissed my finger.

“Nikki’s just jealous because I also had a boyfriend.” I stared in a matter of fact type tone as he chuckled.

“A boyfriend? And then I’m guessing Nikki scared him away when he found you?” Vince questioned as I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, something like that. But anyways, what’s new with the band? Anything going on? Any tour? Album?” I questioned, looking at all of them as they looked at each other.

“Yeah, Sixx. What’s going on?” Vince quirked an eyebrow as Nikki chuckled bitterly.

“Well, can’t make any new songs if our singer doesn’t show up to rehearsals, now can we?” Nikki barked back as I watched the two bicker. Clearly nothing had change.

“Well, can’t sing any songs if our primary songwriter has been preoccupied the last little while.” Vince retorted, cocking his head to the side and smirking as Nikki stared at him.

“Whatever. I’m not doing this with you right now. We’ll save it for tomorrow.”

I sipped on my beer, eyes flickering between the two as they glared at one another, “Uh…Skylar has gotten big. I don’t even think she was walking yet.” I cut the tension as Vince’s eyes locked on mine.

Vince snorted in laughter, “What? Did you expect the world to stop spinning just because miss Blackwood got off the ride? Miss Blackwood since you two didn’t…well never mind.”

My eyebrows furrowed as I watched Sharise attempt to simmer him down. I grabbed Nikki’s hand, shaking my head as a way to tell him not to buy into his bullshit. Nikki instead let go of my hand and went over to a table full of snacks.

“Don’t be a dickhead, Vince. You’re in my house and if you can’t act right you can go.” I stated, pointing to the door as he smirked.

“Oh relax, Vanity. I meant no harm by it, just trying to ruffle Nikki’s feathers. It was just a joke.” Vince explained himself as Sharise looked pissed off for me.

I simmered down when Arianna walked over to me, hands behind her back as she rocked on the ball of her heel, “Well, hello pumpkin.” I smiled at her, wiping vanilla frosting off her cheeks, “Was the cake good?”

She giggled, “Yes! Uncle Tommy let me have two-“ she held up her fingers, “Pieces of cake!”

“Isn’t Tommy the nicest? Baby, I have some people that want to meet you too.” I patted my lap as she climbed up, her back facing me as she looked at the guys.

“That’s Mick and that’s Vince. Those are daddy’s other brothers and that’s Vince’s wife, Sharise. They are Skylars mom and dad.”

Arianna became shy as she laid back against my chest and started covering her face with my hair, “Oh, don’t even start right now.” I tickled her sides as she yelled and squirmed off my lap as she ran straight to Nikki who picked her up.

“Well, looks to me you’ve done a mighty fine job raising her, kid.” Mick spoke as I looked over at him, a wide smile on my face due to his words.

“I’ve tried my best. I think she’s adjusting to the move and being around Nikki all the time pretty well. I really hope she’s happy here.” I expressed as Mick nodded.

“I’m sure she’s happy having both of you and I’m sure it’s a good thing for her to see you two be together as well.”

I cocked my head to the side, “Together? Nikki and I aren’t together.” I laughed at his statement, “Did he-he told you that?”

Mick shrugged but Vince spoke up, “Hasn’t shut up about it.”

I looked over at Nikki who was running around the yard with Arianna and Skylar, “Yeah, no. Me and Sixx aren’t together. We aren’t even sharing the same bedroom.”

Vince and Mick both started laughing as Sharise rolled her eyes, “Well, I think it’s a good thing that you two are taking it slow due to the history and what not. I’m sure things will work out.” She looked on the bright side of things as I shrugged.

“Yeah I guess. I’m in no rush to be with him, and I’ve told him that. We’re just co-parenting, I haven’t slept with him since New York.” I finished off my beer as I nodded my head to the music that was playing.

“Short leash.” Sharise giggled as I glanced over at her, smirking.

*a few hours later*

“…Just make Clementine clean it all.”

I looked at Nikki who held a beer bottle in his hand as he watched me pick up trash from the party, “She’s not our maid Nikki. It was your idea to have the party you should be cleaning up too.” I stated, taking the bottle out of his hand and trading it with the trash bag I was holding.

I hopped up on the counter taking a sip of his drink, “So uh…what was that about between you and Vince earlier?”

Nikki ignored my question as he stuffed paper plates and empty soda cans into the trash bag, “Okay then…” I whispered to myself.

“Is it because of what he said? Because I wasn’t even really that upset about it so you shouldn’t be either.” I tried guessing as he shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” Nikki gave me a stern look as I rolled my eyes.

“Is it the music? Did you guys have a fight before I came?” Nikki threw the garbage bag down after tying it closed, “Well that was dramatic…”

He leaned against the counter, taking the bottle away from me as he looked deep in thought, “Vince is acting like a little bitch and it’s pissing me off. He hates everything we’re trying to do. Blows off rehearsals and then complains he doesn’t like the material but how is he suppose to like the material if he ain’t helping us make it? He’s acting like he’s fucking better than us.” Nikki’s voice was riddled with disdain as I looked at him.

“I’m sure it’s not like that Nikki.” I said, pushing strands of onyx hair out of his eyes as he moved his head away from me.

“How would you know? You haven’t even been here Vanity.” Nikki snapped quickly as I quirked an eyebrow in surprise. He exhaled deeply as he put the bottle down and placed both hands on either side of me, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” Nikki placed a soft kiss on the side of my neck before looking at me.

“It’s okay. You’re right, I haven’t been here. But I’m sure if you’re forcing the music to happen it’s not going to be good….” I trailed off as he rests his hand on the side of my thighs.

“The music is good. The lyrics are great, it’s just him that’s holding everything up. Anyways, I’m tired of talking about Vince. Do you wanna watch a movie upstairs in my room?”

Code word for ‘let’s see how long it takes for you to get bored of the movie and let me stick my hand down your pants’

I shook my head and patted his cheek “No, Maybe tomorrow we can wa-“ Nikki cupped my face and planted his lips on mine, “Sixx..”

He stepped away from me, resting his forehead against my shoulder, “You’re torturing me.” Nikki murmured as he wrapped his arms around my body and pulled me closer to his.

“Torturing?” I laughed, “How am I torturing you? I’m not doing anything.”

He groaned, “That’s exactly how you’re torturing me. You aren’t doing anything or giving me anything.”

I scoffed at his words and shoved on his shoulders, “You sound like a real jackass right now, Nikki.”

His laugh vibrated through me. Nikki stepped away from me but still kept his arms raveled around my waist, “No, no I don’t mean it like that. I mean here I am being all nice and loving and affectionate and you aren’t doing the same.”

I rolled my eyes, “Nikki, you’re being dramatic.” I hopped off the counter, caught between it and him, “You and I aren’t together. I don’t have to be affectionate towards you anyways.” He tilted his head up, standing straight as he took his arms away from me.

“Yeah. You’re right.” Nikki looked away from me as he bent down to pick up the trash bag. He said nothing else as he walked out back, slamming the glass door as I rolled my eyes at his outburst.

Hope he didn’t wake up Arianna.

*Monday morning*

I wish Nikki and I were a normal duo, that way we wouldn’t get looked at in a strange way every time we stepped out into public. We had arrived at Arianna’s school, the Hidden Hills academy. A teacher had already stopped walking and waited by the wall as we passed them and I highly doubt she was star struck from seeing Nikki Sixx. Other parents that were dropping off their kids judged with silenced looks too.

It didn’t help that Nikki was wearing a half buttoned leopard print shirt with all of his tattoos out on display with tight dark denim jeans and a bulky chain hanging out of his back pocket. I sighed quietly and pulled up the low cut shirt I was wearing as we walked into the main office.

“Hi, we have an appointment with the dean for Arianna Blackwood?” I spoke softly as Arianna tried peering over the counter to reach her hand into the candy bowl.

The older woman with square glasses hugging her face and fake pearls wrapped around her neck. I knew they were all fake by the same shade of white they were, real pearls aren’t. I saw as her eyes flickered to Arianna and Nikki who already made himself comfortable in the chairs, “Very so, the dean will be with you shortly.”

Arianna followed me over to Nikki as I sat down next to him and she crawled up on his lap, “I don’t like this school already.” I mumbled to Nikki as I tried taming Arianna’s hair and then his.

Nikki chuckled before scrunching up his nose when Arianna grabbed his hand and spit the candy into it, “I don’t like their candy.” He shook his head before grabbing a tissue and wiping off his hand before throwing it away next to him.

“I wasn’t expecting it to be so fancy…I heard good things about the school. Maybe I should have worn a tie or something.” I watched as Nikki buttoned his shirt up a bit and ran his ringed fingers through his hair, “Maybe put the tits away too..” He whispered to me as I lightly swatted his arm, but pulled my shirt up again.

“You look fine. We look fine. You’re just a rockstar and I’m a heiress and you’re my ex fiancé who knocked me up and I hid our child for five years only to move back into your gothic castle. Yeah, it’s fine. We’re gonna be fine.” I breathed out as Nikki rubbed the back of my neck softly.

“Why are you freaking out? You fit in here.” He laughed a bit as he kissed the back of Arianna’s head.

“I do not fit in here. Los Angeles snobs are completely different than Texas snobs.” I retorted as he nodded.

“I mean, we could leave if you want? Look for another school? I’m sure there is others in the area. I just want her to have the best education she can. If I gotta bake cookies and go to car washing fundraisers I will. I’m not coaching little league though, that’s where I draw the line.”

I chuckled a bit, “I’m not being friends with the other moms. They were annoying in New York and they’re probably annoying here too. Especially if they’re a ditzy housewife married to a retired basketball or football star.”

Nikki grinned, “What about you? When you’re married to a retired rockstar?” I looked over at him, eyes rolling as I shook my head.

“I think I want a normal husband. Marry a doctor or a teacher, someone boring.” I smiled as he tugged my hair a bit.

Nikki took his hand away from me when a older gentleman wearing shiny black dress shoes, a khaki suit and a red tie walked up to us, “Hello, are you two Mr and Mrs. Blackwood?”

It took everything in my body not to start laughing, especially as Nikki glared at me, “No, I’m Blackwood and he’s Sixx. I’m Vanity.” I said kindly, seeing his unamused expression but he stuck out his hand anyway for me to shake.

“Gregory Davis. I’m the dean of students here.” He extended his arm out to him, “Nikki.”

“Poison?” Gregory motioned to Nikki’s hair as he glared at him.

“No, Motley Crue.”

Gregory nodded, “Hello Arianna. How are you doing today?” He spoke to her as Ari became shy and hid her face in Nikki’s neck. “Please come into my office.”

“Maybe marry him. He’s boring and he has money.” I whispered to Nikki as he elbowed my side.

A dark wooden desk with fancy burgundy leather chairs sat on either side, his name was engraved in a gold plate followed by black pens and papers sprawled over his desk. We sat down in the chairs as Nikki put Arianna on his lap as she played with one of his bracelets he was wearing.

“Thank you for letting us come in and see the school on such a short notice.” Nikki explained as I noticed the dead plants hanging around the window.

“You’re very welcome, the pleasure is all mine. We are a very relaxed school but we also make sure the curriculum comes first before anything else. We offer many different programs for our students to exceed in. In kindergarten, we focus on building the structure for the years to come while your child will be here. We tend to lean to more books, shapes and math rather than irrelevant puzzles and play time or story time.” Gregory explained as he started flipping through paper work.

I cleared my throat, “She was at a private school in New York. She went through pre-K and her reading levels are immaculate, she also has a interest in music and art.”

He nodded, “Yeah, Nikki had brought in paperwork from her old school to give to us. She’s very smart for being so young. We have a lovely music program but we don’t offer that until first grade due to the lack of patience and attention span a kindergartener could have, but we will pay close attention to see how she does in her class.”

“Auntie won’t be here?” Arianna asked as she looked up at Nikki.

“No angel, Clementine won’t be with you at school, you’ll be okay.” He spoke softly as he brushed his hand over her hair.

“Her aunt was an assistant in her class back home, I mean back in New York. She’s been a tremendous help. I mean, so has nik- I mean her dad has helped too.” I explained, adding a nervous chuckle as Gregory stared at me.

“But Auntie knows art and my favorite stories…” Arianna began pouting, “It’s okay princess. I’m sure your new teacher will know the same things.”

Gregory looked at her, “Arianna, we don’t pout when we don’t get our way.” He scolded her as I stared at him and then glanced at Nikki who was already clenching his jaw.

“Now, it may not be finger paint and noodle art but we will be sure she can express herself. I see that you made sure she got the best education despite being away from her father. It’s good to see you two taking responsibility and working together.”

Nikki shifted Arianna on his lap as I stared at this fucking asshole, “I’m sorry? I don’t think our personal business concerns you.” I snapped as Nikki quickly reached for my hand and held it tight.

“Doll, I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that.” Nikki attempted to calm me down as his thumb brushed over my hand, I interlaced our fingers together and held his hand in my lap.

“I’m not trying to ruffle your feathers, Vanity. It’s just a proven fact that young children need both parents, even more so in the first few years of their life.” Gregory explained to me as I continued to glare at him, “And I’m sure with Nikki being a rockstar, him leaving all the time wouldn’t be much help.”

Nikki’s eyes narrowed to Gregory, “Arianna has plenty of people in her life to help her grow and me being a rockstar has nothing to do with how she’s going to be here.”

Gregory loosened his tie as he sat back in his chair, “I’ve been the dean of students for over twenty years. We have had plenty of rockstars children come through here and we, the school, end up having to teach them manners and practically raise them.”

“And my kid isn’t every rockstars typical child.” Nikki snapped hastily, “The only people raising my daughter is her mother and I. She has manners of a saint already so thank you for your concern but we don’t need it.”

“Nik, lets just go.” I mumbled to him as he nodded, “Thank you for your time.”

Nikki put Arianna on the ground as he stood up, “Yeah, thanks for nothing.” I sighed as he reached for Arianna’s hand and we walked out of of the office.

“People like him are the reason what’s wrong with the education system.” Nikki complained as we walked down the hallways and out of the school.

“Maybe we can look at public school?” I suggested as he scoffed and dug our the keys to the car.

“I mean, would public school even be that bad? I know you went, but you also didn’t finish…” I mumbled as I watched him help Arianna into the car and buckle her up.

He glared at me before walking to the drivers side and getting in, “You wanted her to have a good education. I spent weeks looking for a good school. I gotta try again for a good public one then.” He explained as he started the car and we began driving, Arianna mumbling incoherently to the radio station.

“Well how hard could that be? It’s just public school.” I shrugged it off as he chuckled.

“Because I don’t want her being in a shit one or in a rough area of Los Angeles. I’ll just look again, it’s not a big deal.” Nikki breathed out as he took a sip out of his water bottle.

“Nikki, I want to give her the most normal life we possibly can. I don’t care if it’s public or private school. I just want her to be happy.” I explained as he squeezed my thigh, “I know normal isn’t in our vocabulary, but still, I want her to have a good childhood.”

“She will, Vanity. I promise. I’ll give her whatever she needs, alright? Don’t worry, just let me take care of it.” Nikki said as he grasped my chin between his fingers for a moment.

“So now that Clementine is here…” I rolled my eyes under my sunglasses and leaned my head against the seat, “Is she gonna be getting a job?” Nikki asked as I leaned my head and looked over at him.

Shrugging, “I don’t know? I’m not Clem. Art is her job, just like music is your job.”

Nikki chuckled a bit, “Well she’s also staying at the house my job paid for her with all of her art stuff.”

With an exasperated sigh, “Okay, so what? You want her to pay rent? Do I have to pay rent too?” I argued back as I saw him roll his eyes.

“I just don’t want a mess, Van. That’s all.”

I brushed aside his comment, “You have a five year old daughter who is always messy and sticky and playing with glitter. You’re going to have a mess regardless.”

Nikki eyeballed me, “Well, Clementines an adult. I don’t want to be picking up after her too.”

I rolled my eyes again, “Yes sir, I’ll make sure the house is pristine. Do you want me to get on my hands and knees and scrub the floors with a tooth brush as well?”

“Only if you’re naked and wearing the highest heels you have.”

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stonecoldjerseyfox · 4 years

Text

Jersey on my mind (part 32)

From the front door of the building to the elevator there were fifteen steps. Fifteen steps that passed a counter and an orienteering board over the more than ten floor Brooklyn building.

Just as every morning, Mila counted the steps. It had become a habit, just as she, before entering the elevator, began to unbutton her jacket. Inside the elevator she let out a lioness-que yawn as she parked herself against the back wall. Thankfully it had been a calm morning. Jim was already gone when her alarm yelled at her to ‘get her ass out of the bed’. Juri was already awake and parked in front of the tv, watching Clifford the Big Red Dog in his pajamas, which meant that Mila could take a shower before preparing his breakfast. While Juri ate his oatmeal with honey under a blanket on the couch, eyes glued to the tv screen and the happy, big red monster dog, Mila got dressed. Forty-five minutes later she dropped Juri at daycare, kissed him on the cheek and hurried off to work.

The elevator stops with a soft thud and she steps out on the ninth floor and heads for the glass doors to the clinic. She’s let in by the receptionists and is welcomed by the constant scent of fresh cut flowers on the reception desk.

”Good morning, Saif. Morning Vanessa.” Mila greets the always happy receptionist couple, lovebirds in real life, behind the counter as she passes through the empty reception.

The dressing room is empty when she enters. Mila removes her workwear, the slightly fancier than nurses-scrubs in a sophisticated shade of grey, from her locker. She leaves the white coat on its hook (it’s way too formal) and drops the bright pink Adidas trainers on the floor with a thud before starting to undress. They switch between the grey scrubs and plain white every other week; head dentist and dental practice owner Said Kadeem thought it would be a ‘edgy, yet fun way to brand themselves as a fun clinic’. In reality he just couldn’t decide which color he thought looked best. It’s the same with his morning-, lunch- and afternoon coffee; with or without milk? He can stand in front of the machine for hours it seems, with his forehead wrinkled together in concentration to make his mind up.

I’d die for a cup of plain, as black as fucking possible-coffee right now, Mila thinks as she pulls the grey pants over her hot pink thongs, reminding herself to do the laundry when she gets home. Putting milk into a cup of coffee is a crime if anything. She steps into the trainers and pulls the top over her head. She gives herself a last look in the mirror and adjusts her ponytail, before leaving the changing room, entering the break room. It’s not a luxurious clinic; no celebrity clients wearing bigger than their face-sunglasses or heavy politicians with a tail of bodyguards, but it’s one of the best private dental clinics in the area, which makes the staff spaces and benefits really generous.

Gotta get some luxury treatment for making it through university with a toddler at home, Mila thinks to herself and steers toward the coffee machine. She greets her colleagues, who are already parked at the table with coffee mugs in front of them, everybody except Lauryn, who’s entire face is hidden behind a huge Starbucks blonde vanilla latte with extra vanilla and coffee plus caramel.

”Rough night?” Mila asks.

”Never turn thirty.” Lauryn Cassidy groans and puts down the ginormous drink on the table. The bags under her eyes scream ’we need to rest you fucker’. ”Why am I even here today?”

”You’re thirty and responsible.” Kristian Shaffer responds. ”I’m impressed.”

Lauryn groans again.

”I liked myself better two days ago, when I was twenty-nine and carefree.”

”Remind me to take the day off after my thirtieth birthday then.” Sarah Preston says and pours a pack of raw brown sugar into her coffee mug.

”Gosh, I’m glad I’ve been there, done that.” Riley Palmer sighs and leans back into his chair. He puts his hands behind his head and flexes his biceps. ”Trust me, thirty is the new twenty.”

”My god such bullcrap!” sterile nurse Ava Cooper rolls her eyes at Riley’s remark. ”It’s almost as bad as that ugly ’carpe diem’ tattoo.”

”What?” Riley looks at Ava, then at his biceps, where ’carpe diem’ is imprinted on his skin with black ink, in a barely readable font. ”What’s wrong with that? It’s inspiring. Like, a mental note that-”

”Ey, we know what it means.” Mila interrupts him. ”And it’s ugly.”

Riley doesn’t get a chance to reply. Kadeem enters the room and a glued-on, convivial atmosphere settles across the table in the blink of an eye. It’s for the best not to quarrel in front of the boss.

”Preston-” Kadeem announces and points with his whole arm at Sarah. “Hallie Reynolds called and cancelled Phillips’ appointment this afternoon.”

”Is Phillip the one with the ears?” Lauryn looks at Aaisha to get answers, but the angelic Aaisha only bursts into a muffled giggle.

”No, that’s Lennox. You know, Dumbo.”

”Christ sake, Riley, stop giving my patients names.” Sarah gives Riley the evil eye and slaps him on his upper arm.

”Sergeyevna, you’re on your own this morning, I need to borrow Aaisha for some drilling.”

Mila and Aaisha look at each other. Kadeem loves his job, but most of all he loves a good drilling. Well, there goes that calm morning; making eye contact over the patients, joking around, singing along to the radio and Aaisha’s regular 11 am stretch, combined with: ”I’m gonna go down to the juice bar, you want anything?”

”Fine.” Mila replies to her superior in white.

”And please, tone down that bluntness today, will you?” Kadeem pleats. ”We can’t have more body builders leaving the clinic crying. Everyone is bad at dental health and everybody knows it, you don’t have to tell them.”

”I thought that was my job?”

”Our job is to dig around their mouths, smile and tell them to floss properly. And charge for doing so.” Kadeem turns to the coffee machine, which is the start of his first, dreadful choice of the day; milk, or no milk. ”Frankly, I don’t know how you seem to get them to come back every 6 months.”

”Witchcraft.”

”Really?” Kristian puts his head to his side and grins at her. ”Thought it was your radiant, bubbly personality?”

“Nope, that’s Cooper and Cassidy.” Kadeem says, without taking his eyes off the coffee machine. “Sergeyevna is like me. It’s in our culture.”

Yeah, the much well known, yet tremendously rare Moscow-Russian and Shiraz-Iranian-culture. Mila smiles a little. As soon as it became clear to Kadeem during her first interview that she was a relatively fresh immigrant, he became overjoyed and felt an almost unreasonable bond with her. Sure, they are both honest and forthright, but that’s more likely a personal trait. Otherwise they are like night and day. But she likes him, he’s a good boss. And his wife makes a hell of a baklava, not to speak of the kletcha.

As the clock strikes nine they simultaneously leave the break room and heads for their offices and treatment rooms. Mila turns on the lights, cranks up the radio and looks out of the window with her cup of coffee steadily in her hand. Another workday. She puts the mug down at the counter as she hears steps approaching. In the next moment, Vanessa appears in the door, followed by her first patient of the morning, Mr. Hardin.

“Mr. Hardin, nice to see you again.” Mila gives her patient a bright smile and takes his hand, gives it a firm shake. “How are you doing?”

She makes a gesture to offer him to sit down in the actually quite comfy dentist chair. She has taken quite a few naps in them after her lunch break since she started working at the clinic.

“Same old, same old.” The man with thinning hair sits down and shrugs at her. “At least I got the health.”

“I’m glad to hear.” Mila replies. “How’s Irene? Must be busy times now?”

“Yeah she’s got her ass full- sorry.”

“No worries. I bet.” Mila takes a seat in her rolling, saddle chair and rolls up to the computer, where she starts to fill in the patient file. ’Hardin, Mark. Regular checkup. Tartar removal’. Same old, same old. “So, just a checkup today.”

“Correct.” mr. Hardin says. ”How’s the kid? Juri, wasn’t it?”

“Yup, indeed.” Mila replies as she takes two pale blue rubber gloves from its box. “He’s doing well.”

“Is he walking yet?”

”More like running.” Mila focuses on the framed photography on the wall, picturing a tropical beach with clear blue turquoise water. Holy crap, he’s growing up so fast, she thinks as she pulls the gloves over her hands. “He’s been on the run for awhile now. Just as I was apparently.”

“They grow fast.” Mr. Hardin shakes his head, as if he can’t believe the basic biology of humans, and leans back in the chair. “But you’re young and healthy. That’s good. This virus, huh?”

“Yeah it’s really strange- Scoot, please.” Mila instructs her patient before continuing to check the tray on her cart, making sure all of her tools are in place. “Great.”

“Both New York Presbyterian and Mount Sinai West are soon overrun. I mean, if that doesn’t sound serious I don’t know what does. Irene’s working double shifts at Langone here in Brooklyn and they still seem to get more and more deaths each day. I think the death toll was, about 70 yesterday, and that’s just Langone. Must be like, 300 in New York alone.”

“Mhm, it’s horrible.” Mila replies monotonously, while scrolling through the x-ray of Mr. Hardin’s lower row of teeth from his appointment the year prior. She’s been trying her best to live life as normal as possible despite the deadly virus. Life has to continue, somehow. “Do you have any issues with sensitivity? Pain?”

“No, just tartar. Like, a lot. Irene found these small pieces in the sink-“

“We’ll fix that today.” Mila says quickly and gives her patient a radiant smile. She doesn’t need, or want, to hear what poor Irene Hardin found in the sink. She’s got a pretty good clue. “You’ve quit smoking yet?”

She turns and looks at Mr. Hardin, who’s shoulder goes up to his ears. He transforms from his regular, very accountant-self (because that’s what he is) to an ashamed puppy in the clinical chair. Mila shakes her head at him, smacking with her tongue. Mila turns to the radio and increases the volume of Angus Young’s voice wailin “You’ve been thunderstruck” to the more than famous guitar tapping.

”Ah. This is why I like going here.” Mr. Hardin says with a smile and points at the radio. ”I listen to NYC Rock in the car, every day.”

“Okay mr. Hardin, let’s rock and roll.” Mila pulls the sterile face mask over her nose. It smells clinical and plastic. She grabs the probe and the mirror and smiles with her eyes at mr. Hardin from underneath the mask.

She starts to work. It’s a regular day. Not too hot, not too cold. The sun is shining into the office and Angus Young continues to blast out that they’ve been struck by thunder, about a billion times. The only thing that looks like its’ been struck by something is her patient's teeth. What on god’s earth is he doing during the nights? Chewing bricks?

”Mr. Hardin, are you tense?” Mila asks.

”Howch do choo do chiiit?!” Mr. Hardin manages to utter, with both wide eyes and wide open mouth. ”Schee, chish isch wchy I gcho cher! Ycho are likche a cheraphchist-”

Mila sighs and removes the tools from his mouth.

”No, Mr. Hardin. You grind your teeth, bad. They look awful. Stop it or you won’t have teeth left.”

”Oh.” He replies and swallows, then bursts into a smile again. ”But you see, this is why I go to you and not that crappy Family smile clinic down in Brownsville, that Irene goes to. Honesty, blunt honesty. I like that.”

”Good to know.” Mila says and signs at him to open his mouth again, to let her continue working on that tartar. ”Not everybody does. I once made one of those body builder’s cry because I scolded him for not brushing his teeth right.”

Yeah she was pretty hard on that poor guy, but honestly, his gums looked like minced meat. Mr. Hardin smiles as best as he can with his mouth wide open.

The next song is by The Hellacopters, which makes her smile once again underneath the mask. She saw them perform, one of their last appearances, with Darya a couple of years ago. But suddenly, in the middle of ”-hey boy, you understand. Say your prayers, or you'll be damned-” the song’s interrupted by the breaking news-jingle.

”We’re interrupting with some disturbing news from downtown Manhattan, where chaos has erupted outside Mount Sinai’s hospital.”

Mila pauses in a movement and glances at the radio.

”Police have been called to the morgue where the-”newscaster seems to be groping for words, as if he himself does not believe what to say. “The dead seem to have woken up.”

It is only thanks to the slightly sticky gloves, which hug around the tools, that Mila doesn’t drop them in Mr. Hardin's mouth, at that proclamation.

”Police began firing shots as the bodies- patients, began to attack civilians and medical staff.”

Mila returns to the tartar, but she can’t focus entirely on Mr. Hardin’s hardcore tartar infestation, even though it’s an astonishing collection; if Aaisha hadn’t been asked to help Kadeem out, she’d been sitting on the opposite side of Mila, and her big brown eyes would have been bigger than usual by excitement. It’s surely a dentist thing only, being excited by tartar. Mila tries her best to stay focused, but her mind drifts off to the radio and the rise of the living dead, where the ’on the spot’-broadcaster now interviews a doctor from Mount Sinai.

“-at least ten former patients, declared dead during the week, escaped the morgue and attacked people on the street. Dr. Berkowitz, head of ICU, can you explain what just happened?”

”I don’t know.”

“Were the patients in a coma?”

“No.”

”Dr. Berkowitz, did you or any of your staff, by any chance, make a mistake?”

”No, as I said, they were deceased. Dead.”

”You’re sure?”

”Yes, ofcourse.”

Mr. Hardin makes a gesture with his hand and Mila removes the tools from his mouth.

”Turn up the volume.” He says and rises on his elbows.

Mila obeys, reaches for the radio and turns the volume wheel up a notch.

“How do you explain the situation, then?” the interviewer asks, now louder than before. He sounds more and more irritated, or afraid, Mila can’t really know the difference. “Dead patients suddenly... awakes?”

“I can’t.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Berkowitz, we have to- We get disturbing breaking news from Weill Cornell Medical Center that- what!?” The interviewer exclaims, as if he can’t comprehend what he’s hearing from the third party in his ear. ”Okay, ehrm- we get news that a similar incident occurs right now at Weill Cornell. I repeat, Weill Cornell. Police have been dispatched to the spot and civilians on the street have taken shelter in nearby shops and restaurants. It’s been confirmed that eight- no, nine, people have been injured and a woman has deceased, by severe blood loss. I repeat, one woman is dead and lying in the street. According to eyewitnesses- Neil, you sure about that?” The interviewer asks. “Sorry. Eye witnesses claim that the woman, and I’m sorry about this, is being eaten by the deceased. If you’re in the neighborhood, do not go outside, I repeat; do not-”

Both Mila and Mr. Hardin stare at the radio under complete dead silence. The tools are frozen in her hands and her heart beats hard inside the grey scrubs.

“I gotta-” Mr. Hardin swallows. “I- I need to call Irene.”

“Yeah..” Mila replies. A rush of sickness runs over her. Is the room suddenly swaying, or is she just, overwhelmed? Is this real? She casts a glance at Mr. Hardin, who climbs out of the leaned back chair, still with the pale blue plastic sheet around his neck. “Yeah, go ahead.”

He leaves the room. Mila hears him talk on his phone outside the door. Should she call someone? Her mind wanders to Juri and mama first. With trembling hands Mila picks up the phone from her pocket, unlocks it and goes into the messages. She changes the alphabet to cyrillic starts dictating a text message to mama. In order not to worry her beloved mama more than necessary, she simply writes: ‘Good morning mamochka. How are you today? Love you.’

She presses ‘send’ and then finds her way to the contacts, where she quickly finds ‘Jim’. Signals are heard. She spins in her chair, faces the window. He picks up the phone at the fourth dial.

“Cricket.” Jim greets her. His warm, amazing smile is felt through the phone and instantly calms her soul.

“Thank goodness.” Mila sighs and massages her forehead. “Hi.”

Jim chuckles on the other end. She can see him clearly in front of her. Black suit and white shirt. He’s just had a haircut and said bye bye to the ponytail. Tall, handsome beyond comparison. Probably with his tenth cup of coffee of the day in his hand. It’s a miracle he can keep his cool with that much caffeine in his system.

“Hi.” He replies softly. “What a pleasant surprise. Does milady want to hire a personal security guard?”

She can’t help but smile like an idiot.

“I can offer a very favorable package price.” Jim continues. “Annually. How about ... ten years? Initially.”

“Yeah, I’ll think about it.”

Through the phone, she can really picture how one of Jim’s eyebrows starts to go up, towards his forehead. Usually she plays along with his shenanigans and jokes, but she can’t. Not now.

“You’re on speaker or something?” He asks.

“No. No, sorry. I’m not.” Mila replies and sighs. “Have you heard?”

“Nope. Or, depends on what I’ve missed. What's the talk of the town?”

“You’re nearby a tv or a computer?”

“I’m in the office. Hold on.” Jim starts tapping on the computer. Mila hears the rustle of the buttons in the background. “Oh. That’s-” Jim pauses and reads. “All of them died of the virus?”

“Apparently.”

“I’d say it was a mistake by the hospital, if not- but...” he pauses. “‘New York Times reports that it’s more than twenty patients. Could be more.’ What the-”

“What’s happening?” Mila asks, can’t conceal her feel of discomfort.

“Dunno.” Jim says. “Hey, I can get off work by-” he pauses, as to looking at his watch. “I’ll pick Juri up earlier, in about two hours. I’m sure he’s fine but, just in case. We’ll fix dinner.”

What have I done to deserve this guy, Mila thinks inside her head.

“I love you.”

“You love me for my incredible mashed potatoes.” Jim grins through the phone. “Love you Cricket. It’s gonna be fine.”

Taglist: @lonewolf471 @twdeadfanfic

#daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd #daryl fanfiction #daryl x oc #daryl dixon x oc #jersey on my mind #twd fanfiction #twd daryl #twd fanfic #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fandom #the walking dead fanficition

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caspers-chibs-imagines · 4 years

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Redemption

Summary

Riley Teller and her son move back to Charming. When Riley returns however, she is faced with the fact that she had to take on her responsibilities as a mom better than before when they are apart of The Sons. Allies are made and maybe a little something more with a certain Scotsman.

____

Chapter Six

"Mommy!" Tommy cheers as he runs up to me from his classroom. I bend down and lift him up into my arms and hug him as he holds onto me tight. "I painted you a picture!" He waves his paper in the air as I walk to the truck. Still wearing my work jumpsuit as I had to go straight back to work for another two hours. I've been working since we moved into our new home four days ago and now Tommy is in school and I'm working to keep him there.

"This is awesome baby!" I praise him as I look over the picture of his red Dragon and little blue knight. He continues to tell me about his day and how he learnt to count over twenty. I was so happy for him to be able to tell me all of this. He was having the best time at school and it made for cute stories for me to listen to from my baby son.

When we got to the garage, I noticed all the black cars watching over the clubhouse. I got Tommy out of the truck and walk over to Jax.

"Mind filling me in on why we got police watching the place?" I ask him. Tommy goes to Chibs and shows him his painting and asking him where he has been.

"ATF are twisting our balls. Just keep an eye out on Tommy. Don't let him go wandering anyway in the clubhouse." I knew what Jax meant by these words. Their gun business is hitting a shithole and now it was coming back on the club.

"Tommy come on," I call to him as he stopped talking to Chibs and ran to hold my hand while I went to the garage to continue working on the car I was fixing till I got Tommy from school.

***

"Hey darling." I look up to see Chibs walking over to me. "Mind just stepping out for a minute. Club business." He tells me and I nod my head.

"Tommy, wanna go play outside for a minute?" I ask my son while I wipe the oil off my hands. He runs out the garage and over to the little play park and hops onto one of the swings. I play with him for a good twenty minutes before Chibs comes over to us again.

"Everything alright?" I ask him as Tommy climbs on the monkey bars.

"Yeah, just the usual club business." He replies.

"Haven't seen you around in a while. Been doing the dirty with the Irish?" I ask the last part in a hushed tone and he smiles at me.

"Could say that." He replies and pulls out a cigarette from him pack. "How's little man been?"

"Good," I turn to look at Tommy as he played. "Got him into school and he's been loving it so far." I tell Chibs who chuckles as he takes a drag from his fag.

"Glad to hear it." He blows some smoke out his mouth and it disappears before he says anything else. "Keep him close. We might have company today. Don't let him leave ya sight."

"Actually I was gonna ask... if you could watch him for a minute while I finished up some paper work." I ask him and he blows out more smoke from his cigarette. "Won't be long, promise."

"Alright. I'll watch him play for a while." He then leans down presses a kiss on my forehead before walking over to Tommy. I stand and watch them for a moment with a small blush on my face from the way he kissed my forehead but quickly shook it off and went to the office to complete the paperwork off for the car job.

***

After I had finished my shift, Tommy wanted to stay for a bit to see his uncle Jax and Chibs for a bit longer. I didn't want to object so we stayed for a while. I was sat on one of the picnic benches and Tommy was telling Jax about his new class friends. Beside me was Chibs as we watched over Tommy. It was sweet that Chibs was just as protective of Tommy as me. He didn't have to be, because if anyone touched my son they wouldn't be living anymore. But it was sweet none the less.

Tires screeched to a halt and I knew I needed to grab hold of my son. I moved over to where he and Jax were and picked him up to hold him. Chibs had followed suit and put a hand on my shoulder.

"Go sit down love." He tells me and I look at him and nod my head. Taking Tommy to sit down while ATF agents and Charming PD grabbed all the boys and put them to the ground. An agent came over to me and asked me to stay where I was with my son; of which I listened to and stayed put.

"Mommy why are the nasty men making uncle Jax and Chibs stay down?" Tommy asks as he began to cry. I pull him into my chest and hug him closer to me as I ran a comforting hand through his hair.

"It's okay baby. They have the wrong people. They're going to be okay." I whisper into his ear and kiss his head while gently rocking to calm his sobbing. I notice Chibs turn slightly to look back at us and when he saw that Tommy was crying, he didn't look too pleased.

I sat rocking my son back and forth until the agents got what they wanted - or lack of what they wanted - and left. As soon as they were gone Chibs came over to me and I stood up with Tommy still in my arms. He had calmed down but still looked upset.

"You okay?" Chibs asks while he brushes Tommy's hair out of his face and looks at him.

"We're fine. Tommy just got a little upset." I assure him and Tommy reaches for Chibs, who takes him happily into his arms.

"They weren't nice to you." Tommy pouts as he hugs Chibs and I smile gently at the way Chibs returned his hug.

"I'm alright little man." He assures my son and pulls him back to ruffle his hair; earning a giggle from Tommy. "I'm a big man. They can't hurt me." He then looks at me and takes his sunglasses off. His warm brown eyes looked over me and I smiled at him.

"I'm fine. Just didn't like the idea of Tommy being around all this." I run my hand through my short locks on my head. "I should've took him home-"

"No you shouldn't have." Chibs interrupts. "You have every right being here as much as me." He assures me and then looks at Tommy. "How about, you go home with your ma now and then I'll come over to tuck you in later? Sound like a deal?" He holds his fist up to Tommy, who returns his fist pound and then puts him down.

"You don't have to do that." I tell Chibs and he looks at me with a smile.

"I want to." He replies and I shake my head at him and laugh. "Now go home and relax. It's been a long day for all of us." I thank him again for checking on Tommy and then we go to the truck and drive home.

***

Sure to his word, Chibs turned up later about the same time I was putting Tommy to bed. Now I stood by the door while he was telling Tommy a story about dragons and knights and making him laugh. It was sweet scene to watch and it made my heart swell but hurt. It shouldn't be Chibs doing this for him, George should be here and making him laugh with these stories.

Chibs started to tuck him in and wished him goodnight before walking over to me. I quickly kiss Tommy on the head and tell him to get some rest before we leave the room and I close the door halfway. I turn to Chibs who was already looking at me.

"Thanks for that." I tell him as I put my hands in my grey hoodie. "You didn't need to do that."

"I told you, I wanted to do that for him." He gives me a gentle nudge as we walk down the hall towards the stairs. "Anything I can do to help that little man out, I'm there."

We walk down the stairs and I walk into the kitchen. I open the fridge and pull out two bottles of beer. Opening both, I hand one to Chibs and take a swig of my own.

"Stick around for a while. Relax," I tease him with his words from earlier and he chuckles after taking a swig of his own beer.

"Gladly." He says as he leans against the counter opposite me and I jump up to sit on the counter behind me.

"What makes you want to help me with Tommy?" I ask him. It had been bugging my brain since the parking lot incident. He looks at me for a moment before crossing his arms.

"I missed the opportunity once. Figured I could try again." He replies and I frown at him. "I have a daughter. I don't get to see her. She was ripped from me years ago."

"Chibs... I'm so sorry." I sigh and put my beer down next to me.

"Don't worry about it. I wasn't able to be there for her. But if I can be there for your little man while his father is missing than that's fine by me." He assures me and then looks up at me. "As long as you're okay with it?"

I thought for a moment before answering him

"Not at all. It's nice to see him happy with you." I reply. "Just wish I knew where George was." I look down and bite at the skin at the corner of my nail on my thumb. Chibs pushed himself up and he gently pulled my hand away from my mouth and lifted my face up by my chin. I looked directly into his brown orbs as he looked down at me.

"You'll find him." He spoke and I felt my lips part slightly. "He is one lucky guy to have a woman as determined as you." He moved his hands from their place under my chin and my hand. He stepped back to put a gap between us again and it felt strange to not have him close to me anymore.

Then came the knock on my door.

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy fanfiction #chibs #SOA chibs #chibs telford #chibs imagine #chibs x oc #oc with child #jax teller #gemma teller

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mitchbeck · 4 years

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KEELEY: MARINERS WEEKLY: MOVIN’ ON UP

BY: Michael Keeley, Maine Mariners Feb. 3, 2020 – Michael McNicholas capped off a magical Make-A-Wish night on Saturday with the overtime winner, giving the Mariners a three-game sweep of the Adirondack Thunder, and putting them three points clear of the fourth and final playoff spot in the North Division. It was the fifth win in six games for a Mariners team which also now has points in 8 of 10 overall. They now have third place in their sights, just two points behind the Brampton Beast, who don’t play again until Saturday in Portland. The Mariners play twice against Worcester between now and then, as their early February homestand continues this week. All in all, five more games will be played at the Cross Insurance Arena in the next eight days. The week that was Weds, Jan. 29th – MNE: 3, ADK: 0 The Mariners started the week two points behind Adirondack for fourth place and immediately made a statement in their first of three games against the Thunder, posting a 3-0 shutout on the road. For Connor LaCouvee it was his second consecutive shutout, making 30 stops while Ted Hart, Morgan Adams-Moisan, and Sean Day all found the net. The win made it five in a row for Maine at the Cool Insuring Arena. FULL GAME RECAP & HIGHLIGHTS Fri, Jan. 31st – MNE: 5, ADK:2 Sean Day stayed hot by scoring two goals in a game that was filled with penalties – 84 minutes combined between the two teams. The Mariners opened up the game in the second period with goals by Alex Kile, Dillan Fox (shorthanded), and Day to build a 4-1 lead. The Mariners pulled back ahead of the Thunder for fourth place by two points and clinched the season series. FULL GAME RECAP & HIGHLIGHTS Sat, Feb 1st – ADK: 2, MNE: 3/OT The Mariners wore special “Make-A-Wish” themed jerseys, designed by 11-year-old Make-A-Wish Maine “Wish Kid,” Ellie LaBree. Dillan Fox and Adirondack’s Colby Sissons traded power play goals to bring the game to a 1-1 tie at the end of two periods before Mariners defenseman Josh Couturier’s first goal (and point) of the season gave Maine a 2-1 lead in the third. Adirondack forced overtime, but Michael McNicholas found the game-winner just 1:21 into bonus hockey to give the Mariners the sweep. FULL GAME RECAP & HIGHLIGHTS Transactions (oldest to most recent) NO TRANSACTIONS LAST WEEK This week’s schedule (all times Eastern) Tues, Feb. 4 vs. Worcester Railers – 7:00 PM (HOME) Fri, Feb. 7 vs. Worcester Railers – 7:15 PM (HOME) – Works for ME Night sponsored by News Center Maine / Three Dollar Deweys #Giving3kend Sat, Feb. 8 vs. Brampton Beast – 6:00 PM (HOME) – Pride Night sponsored by EqualityMaine/ Three Dollar Deweys #Giving3kend Sun, Feb. 9 vs. Brampton Beast – 3:00 PM (HOME) – Underwear Toss / Three Dollar Deweys #Giving3kend Tues, Feb. 11 vs. Brampton Beast – 7:00 PM (HOME) The second “3kend” of the season is sponsored once again by Three Dollar Deweys, and it’s the “Giving 3kend,” with a focus on community. Friday night’s “Works for ME Night,” is sponsored by News Center Maine. It’s also a 1-2-3 Friday: $1 Aquafina, $2 Pepsi products, $3 Bud Light drafts through the start of the second period. On Saturday, the first 2,000 fans will get a pair of sunglasses presented by EqualityMaine as part of “Pride Night.” On Sunday, fans are encouraged to bring new packages of underwear to toss onto the ice after the first Mariners goal – proceeds to benefit Preble Street Teen Services. Through the months of February and March, the Mariners will be collecting new and lightly used books for Ronald McDonald House Charities of Maine. Fans can avoid Ticketmaster Fees by purchasing tickets to select themed games through the Mariners' new “Theme Night Tickets” page. For all Saturday and Sunday home games, Family Four Packs are available when purchased in advance. Family four packs include four tickets, four food, and drink vouchers, and four Mariners can koozies, starting at $80. Mariners Coach’s Show The Mariners Coach’s Show returns this Thursday, February 6th, hosted by Mariners broadcaster Michael Keeley, featuring guests Riley Armstrong (Head Coach/Assistant General Manager) and forward Morgan Adams-Moisan. The show runs from 6-7 PM, broadcasting live at Three Dollar Deweys at 241 Commercial Street in Portland and airs online at MarinersOfMaine.com/listen. Four tickets to an upcoming Mariners game will also be given away at Three Dollar Deweys at the end of the show. Looking ahead: The Mariners conclude their homestand with one more game against Brampton on Tuesday, February 11th at 7 PM. They will then embark on a five-game road trip to Newfoundland and Adirondack before returning to Portland for “Miracle Night,” on Sunday, February 23rd at 3 PM vs. Newfoundland, honoring the 40th anniversary of the “Miracle on Ice.” The team will wear Team USA inspired jerseys and the Disney movie will be screened on the video board following the game. The full promotional schedule can be found here. Community Collection: The Mariners and the Cross Insurance Arena are collecting books for the remainder of the regular season for Ronald McDonald Charities of Maine. Fans who donate three or more books will receive a ticket to a Mariners weekday game. Both children’s and adult’s book donations are welcomed. Items MUST be donated at the Promotions Port to the right of the main security gates. While donations will be accepted at the Mariners office and other Cross Insurance Arena events, fans are not eligible to receive tickets unless the items are donated at a Mariners game. Read the full article

#ADA #AdirondackThunder #AlexKile #BramptonBeast #ConnorLaCouvee #CrossInsuranceArena #DillanFox #MaineMariners #MichaelKeeley #MichaelMcNicholas #MiracleonIce #MorganAdams-Moisan #RileyArmstrong #RonaldMcDonaldHouse #RonaldMcDonaldHouseCharities #SeanDay #WorcesterRailers #YouTube

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junker-town · 7 years

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‘Hard Knocks’ Recap: A business trip to beautiful Jacksonville

The Bucs travel to Jacksonville; Jameis Winston throws a hilarious interception; Chris Baker humps a tree; everyone eats wings.

On this week’s episode of Hard Knocks, the Bucs traveled to Jacksonville for a couple days of practice against the Jaguars before the two teams played in the preseason. These are the main takeaways.

Stop Trying to Make Doug Martin Happen

The Bucs are filled with fascinating characters. Gerald McCoy is as intelligent and entertaining as he is intelligent. Jameis Winston — caveat here — is a fascinating combination of leadership and talent capable of head-smacking stupidity. Mike Evans and DeSean Jackson have a heartwarming bromance. Brent Grimes and his wife Miko — I swear this is a compliment — should be studied by psychologists. Fringe cornerback Robert McClain is a talented artist with a beautiful family. And on, and on, and on.

For the first two episodes, I kept wondering, “Where the heck is Doug Martin?” He showed some promise as a physical entertainer when he briefly appeared last week to usher some rookies offstage, but he was otherwise absent until this episode.

And now I know why: Doug Martin is the dullest person on the team. His voice is a natural monotone. He referred to his time in rehab as a “journey” while saying nothing about addiction or his treatment (he tested positive for Adderall, but the show gave no specifics beyond “violating the league’s drug policy”). Entering his sixth year, he says he needs to “start” acting like a veteran, even as the head coach singles out rookie Riley Bullough for his leadership. In a noble but failed effort to give him some personality, HBO showed him riding an electric skateboard (he didn’t want to rollerblade or ride a bike in college).

Martin isn’t bad or unlikable, he’s just boring. Now I know why he didn’t want to be called Muscle Hamster: he doesn’t deserve a nickname that interesting.

The Chucky and Rex Show

Three episodes of Hard Knocks, two appearances by Jon Gruden. There are perfectly good reasons for this that are not necessarily related to the Bucs’ present coach being Madame Tussaud’s version of Pete Carroll, but the optics aren’t great. Still, I welcome Chucky and his Mark Davis haircut, especially since the ESPN crew working the Bucs’ preseason game have brought along rookie broadcaster Rex Ryan, who’s just here to trash his former quarterbacks and suck on some toes. AND HE’S ALL OUTTA TOES.

REX (to Jameis Winston): You know, I’m jealous. I never had a quarterback like you, you know what I mean? That’s why I’m sitting here, and I’m pissed off about it.

GRUDEN: You think YOU’RE pissed off about it? [everyone laughs] I gotta LIVE in Tampa!

REX: Look at the guys you had. Shit, my guys were better than your guys.

GRUDEN: I got my four ki— three kids wearing Jameis Winston jerseys.

Here are the things I love about this exchange:

Rex Ryan blames his firings on having shitty quarterbacks. And buddy, I’ve got your back when it comes to Mark Sanchez and Geno Smith and Greg McElroy (not to mention backup Tim Tebow). But Tyrod Taylor is pretty good, and Buffalo’s rushing attack was excellent the two years Ryan was there. That Bills defense, though? Not exactly the result of a supposed defensive mastermind.

Rex openly states — unprompted, on video, in front of his co-workers — that he’s pissed about having his job.

For a moment, I thought Gruden’s “You think YOU’RE pissed off about it?” was an excellent burn on Rex — and from the reaction, so did everyone in the room. Alas, he was talking about his proximity to the Bucs, and how often he sees Winston practice and play.

Rex states that Gruden’s dogshit quarterbacks were worse than HIS dogshit quarterbacks — which isn’t true, but it IS funny that Ryan doesn’t pick up on the subtext: if Gruden won a Super Bowl with worse quarterbacks, what does it say about HIS ability as a coach?

Jon Gruden is unsure how many kids he has?

SWAG CHECK

Oh hell yeah: we’ve got a packing and traveling montage! Time to get some slo-mo walks to the buses! We’ve got some GQ mofos going from Tampa to Jacksonville:

Watch out Russell Westbrook! The intentionally gaudy shirt isn’t my cup of tea, but it’s of the moment and fitted to his big frame. With the chain and stylish sunglasses, he looks good, and he knows it.

Gerald McCoy continues his flawless scene streak in Hard Knocks. August heat in Florida won’t keep him from looking good in tight black pants, and he’s made the most “stylish adult” decision of all: the only way to look truly good with luggage is to spend a lot of money on it and carry it in your hands.

Oh my goodness. Did my channel somehow change to a network airing a dramedy about a fabulously charming lawyer? Ladies and gentlemen, SPORT is in session!

And wait, are those ...

... CHERUB CHAINS?!?! Help, my TV is melting from this heat. Honey, cash my 401(k), I have to pay this man whatever it takes to be my personal stylist.

Okay, who’s next?

... oh.

Becky, your dad’s here!

Beautiful, Scenic Jacksonville

The First Law of Hard Knocks is: If something can look epic, it will look epic. Tacky team headquarters will be captured with breathtaking drone footage panoramas. If a garbage barge passes by, it will be shot in low-angle slow-motion during the golden hour. If a team travels to Jacksonville, Florida — our nation’s sprawling ode to shipping containers and jungle rot — then it will look like a goddamn postcard.

To be clear: that is a screenshot I slapped some text on. I know, it’s a little slapdash. But I’m not going to shell out for Avalon font just so I can make the Internet a better Jacksonville postcard.

A Moment for Chris Baker

Defensive tackle Chris Baker (pictured humping a tree) has been a delightful trash talker in every episode this season, getting more air time each week — and with good reason. Here he is talking with some Jaguars fans:

You crazy, boy. We out here destroyin’ y’all. Y’all got to be the angriest fans in the world. Cuz y’all ... is going to get at least three wins.

He also split a sideline hot dog with Gerald McCoy during the second half of the preseason game at Jacksonville.

McCOY: Hey Bake! (waves hot dog) You so fat. You gotta be the fattest dude I know.

BAKER: Where’d you get it from, bro?

McCOY: Don’t worry about it. You want half?

He pulled a Sanchez! Don’t disrespect the game!

Lunch is on Gerald

While in Jacksonville, Coach Koetter informs the team that McCoy has arranged for three food trucks to provide ribs, wings, and snow cones for lunch, all paid for by the star defensive tackle (McCoy to Baker: “Except you, Bake.”)

This is an awesome gesture. I love hot wings and ribs.

BUT. Giving 90 massive pro athletes — many of them over 300 pounds — as many hot wings as they can eat ... for lunch ... in Jacksonville ... in August ... seems like an act of war on the hotel’s plumbing. My heart goes out to those poor toilets.

GOAT RESCUE

THE SCENE: Quarterbacks Jameis Winston, Ryan Fitzpatrick, and Ryan Griffin ask about Sefo Liufau’s girlfriend. A condensed version of their discussion follows.

LIUFAU: Her family has four goats.

WINSTON: Oh, so she rich?

GRIFFIN: You’re so country.

WINSTON: If you got goats, you got MONEY. I’m from Alabama. If you got some cattle, you rich.

LIUFAU: I’m pretty sure they got the goats from goat rescue, they’re only like $100.

Jameis Winston LOVED the idea of a goat rescue operation that worked like a dog shelter.

Elsewhere in the realm of quarterbacks, Fitzpatrick had some excellent, subtle digs at Winston. The best was following a pregame huddle with the offense, in which the players repeated each line of Winston’s poem about beating the Jaguars. After the interminable scene, Fitz, sitting next to Winston at their lockers, leaned over and deadpanned, “You rhyme was a little long.” But I also enjoyed this:

FITZ: Would you say Muhammad Ali is one of your biggest inspirations?

WINSTON: Yes.

FITZ: When you talk, when you break down, I can, like, I can just feel that you’ve seen a lot of his stuff.

This conversation was immediately followed by a clip of Winston speaking to the team, and Fitz is clearly right: it’s like a cross between Ali and Ray Lewis.

“First you get the money, then you get the goats!”

Disappointed Dirk

He threw this.

Okay, first: if you have not seen Winston GLORIOUS interception that was overturned because he was ruled down, you must go watch it now.

The exchange that happened next was beautiful, because Dirk Koetter has never been more relatable. For one minute, Koetter is the football version of “extremely pissed off dad who is trying to be loving and constructive with his son, but is also JUST SO PISSED AT HIM.”

DIRK: Jameis. You’re fuckin’ playing a great game. You’re playing a great game. And then your greed takes over. If this is real football, that’s so fuckin’ stupid. That’s guaranteed points! You’re so much better than that! You’re so much better. You’re playing a great game. You just threw a great, perfect spot to O.J., GREAT go route, and then you fuckin’ do that!

JAMEIS: I got you. I got you.

DIRK: You can’t do that! Ever! Ever! Ever!

I hope Winston NEVER cuts down on his turnovers. Just an entire career of every TV announcer raving about how talented he is while he throws 18 picks a year. “Such POISE while throwing that backbreaking pick, Troy.”

The Cruel Business

This episode’s rookie undrafted free agent to fall in love with was Maurice Fleming. We get the full, nasty arc of his tragedy over the course of one hour: we meet him hanging out in a pool with other rookies. He shines in practice. He wakes up before sunrise to train on his own.

The coaches praise him. In the preseason game, he injures his knee as the Jaguars make a desperate final drive. He can’t cut. He can barely run. But he stays on the field, because he has to stay on the field to make the team. He makes the game-saving pass break-up.

But this story doesn’t have a happy ending, because it’s the NFL. Fleming gets X-rays and an MRI on his knee, then waits for a small eternity to get the results. He’ll be out four weeks, so he’s out of a job. The Bucs waive him.

What a crap-ass league.

MONTAGE RANKINGS

Jameis Winston workout montage

Doug Martin game footage montage

Team walk-through montage. An odd choice, I know, but I liked that it was (a) scored by the director of team security playing a hotel piano, and (b) showed this extremely weird-looking thing that every single NFL team does before a game.

Food preparation montage. I’m very hungry right now.

Sucking at practice montage

Offense clicking montage

Gassers montage. Don��t make gassers a montage unless you deliver on a puke shot.

Players’ day off montage. This didn’t have enough music or quick-cuts to be a true montage, I just wanted to point out that Ali Marpet spent his off day reading a book, eating sushi, and playing his ukulele by himself on Picnic Island.

haha, look at this lonely nerd!

But for real, he seems nice.

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cruecifymesixx · 5 years

Text

Love and Leather /part fifty one/

Word Count: 9.9k

A/N: This is kinda a filler, but also not really at the same time. Wasn’t planning for this chapter be to this damn long. Anyways, enjoy!

Warnings: language, half assed smut, so sweet it rots your teeth fluff

Taglist: @brideofdraculana , @xstarryeyes , @aryssav , @miserablecunt @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol , @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies, @fandomshit6000, @anntheboneless, @venus-calum, @justjodeye, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @are-we-real, @hi-my-name-is-riley, @extremesadnerding, @thatbandchick39, @awkwrdcait, @countrygirlswonderland, @awesomealmostdopestudent, @romanticvengeance , @tashy-bear, @krazykatkay456, @terror-triplet, @shouttatthedevill @beachystars, @rodriguez025, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @s-outhie, @anxious-diabetic, @awkwardblackgirls, @rockersbox, @brooklyn-antiques, @shamelessobsessions, @jerseytaint, @lilytalebi, @criminalyetminimal, @motley-queen, @trapt-in-a-dream, @lunamadhatter99, @broke-n-bitchy, @thanks2pete, @slowandangry, @lovesick-heart0, @keepcalm-and-beyou, @miriampraez, @teenwolflover28, @lilyhw1, @swoopygorl, @motherloovebone, @random-internet-user-4471, @falcon-arrows, @talranocchia2001, @wheresmyvodkabitch, @waywardprincess666, @malibubarbievince, @iluvmesomemarvelndc, @vamprlestat, @supersoldierballerina, @primal-screamer @electradestiny, @marshbev, @n0-sh0rtage-0f-faults, @cruebaby, @ggorehorror, @valentines-in-london, @miss2001babe, @nassauartist @emmaelizabeth2014, @cmft-jr-winchester, @bokkie92, @notworthyofyou1120 @xrosegoldwolfx, @cranberribread, @lauravic, @mgkobsessed, @chaoticvybe, @kellysimagines @thoughtsoftheantagonist @marvelismylifffe, @missysixxter, @love-struck-aries, @lavendersoundbarrier, @i-want-to-shoot-myself, @unknownoblivion, @minxtruck, @idumpyourgrass, @oskea93, @xsixxx@zoenicoles, @baiabouk, @fentitrbl

*January 1990*

Vanity and Nikki found themselves lounging around the pool of a very nice resort. They had finally gone on the vacation to the Bahamas her grandparents had gifted a few months back. They decided to skip Christmas and just spend a week here. So far the couple had adventured all over the island, taking part in scuba diving, zip lining and jet skiing. Nikki was also adamant about getting Vanity in the shark cage with him, but that was a hard no from her. Now, after a day of exploring the island town, Vanity laid in one chair, wearing a dark blue bikini with black shades covering her eyes as she basked in the sun. Nikki sat besides her, softly strumming the strings of his bass.

“Ya know, Sixx. I was thinking...” Vanity perked up, taking a sip of her pina colada.

“Don’t hurt yourself angel.” Nikki teased, causing Vanity to gently slap his knee.

“Asshole-“ They both laughed together, “We should take more vacations together, this has been fun. Can we stay a little bit longer? Please?” Vanity begged, looking over at him and giving Nikki her best smile.

“Doll, I wish we could. But we have to get back by Saturday. We leave for tour in a week and i still need to get some stuff squared away before I leave.” Nikki expressed, groaning at the pouty lip she was giving him.

“I promise, when the tour is over we will go on vacation again, wherever you want too. You can pick.” He assured her, watching Vanity lay back down on the chair.

“Okay fine, but I want to go to Paris with you.” She smiled widely, reaching for his hand as he brought her hand up to his lips.

“Anything for you, Princess.” Nikki responded making Vanity grin cheekily as she took her hand back, placing it under her head as she continued to sun bathe.

Nikki chewed on his bottom lip, plucking at the strings as he eyed the cowboy hat he had been wearing on the today. His eyes were mainly fixated on the little black box that was hidden underneath it. He stared at Vanity getting comfortable in the chair, his eyes gazing down the contours of her body. He took in every detail of her. How her hair was pulled back in a messy bun that still made her look sexy as hell. Her skin was sun kissed and she was wearing tanning oil that made every inch of her glisten. He saw bruises from his fingers on her hips, as he saw marks from his lips on her thighs. He saw the scar on the side of her knee that was in the shape of a crescent moon. His eyes wandered down farther to the golden anklet that had little tiny roses on it.

“I can feel you looking at me.” Vanity says with a smirk and closed eyes under her sunglasses.

Nikki snapped out of his thoughts, “I don’t ever wanna stop looking at you...”

Vanity turned her head to the side, tilting her glasses down to look at him, “Well, I am pretty nice on the eyes.” Nikki rolled his eyes at her arrogance.

She took a sip of her cocktail and glanced over at him again, “You’re pretty easy on the eyes too, Nikki.”

Nikki bit his lip, smiling at her. He grabbed the little black box, dropping to one knee in front of her as Vanity’s eyes widened, “Nikki? What are you doing?” She asked pushing her sunglasses up and putting her cocktail down.

Nikki stared at her, clearing his throat before he decided on talking, “Vanity, I love you so god damn much. I know I’ve put you through hell and back and honestly, I don’t deserve you at all. I think...I think you and I are meant to be, we always find our way back to one another. I think in every universe as you like to put it, we would always find each other.”

Nikki pauses, opening up the tiny little box, “I won’t promise to be the best husband in the world, but I think I can promise you I’ll be an okay one. I want you, and I want this forever. What do you say doll? Will you marry me?”

Vanity teared up, placing her hands on the side of his cheeks as they both smiled at one another, “Yes Nikki! A thousand times over!” She exclaimed, quickly pulling him into a deep and loving kiss. Nikki smiles against her lips before he broke the kiss, gently taking her hand in his as he slipped the ring on her finger. He pulled her up to her feet, bringing Vanity into a strong embrace as he picked her up off the concrete. She laughed in his ear, wrapping her arms around his shoulder as she kissed his lips again.

“I love you.” Vanity says between pecks on the lips. She pulls away from him, leaning into his chest as she admires the ring. Her eyes widened at the sight of the diamonds that rested against the silver band.

“Does it live up to the princesses taste?” Nikki chuckled, but deep down he hopped she said yes.

Vanity admires the shimmering of the stones in the sunlight, “It’s absolutely perfect, Nikki. Thank you.” She smiled, giving him soft eyes as he nodded.

“You deserve nothing but the best. I wanted big, but not crazy big.” Nikki retorted

“Sixx, I would have been fine with one of the rings you always wear. Yours are cool.” She said sitting back down on her chair as Nikki sat across from her on his.

“Well, if I would have known...” He says, taking off a platinum ring, that had ‘Mötley’ engraved into it. It was one of his most prized possessions. The record label had gotten all four of them those rings right after ‘Shout at the Devil’ was released.

He put the ring in the palm of her hand. She held it tight before putting it on the thumb opposite of the hand that had the engagement ring on. Was still too loose, but not loose enough for her to lose it.

“We’re getting married!” Vanity squealed, as she broke out in a huge smile, causing Nikki to smile with her. She grabbed her half drunken cocktail, “Cheers, Sixx!” Nikki laughed, grabbing his water bottle.

“To us babe.”

*a few days later, Vanity’s POV*

I sat criss cross on the bed as I watched Nikki go back and forth between the closet and his suitcases. He was packing last minute for the tour, I told him to start even before we left for a mini vacation. But of course, he didn’t listen.

I frowned when he zipped up the last suitcase, “Do you really have to go?” I asked as he put on his jacket.

“Yes Van, you know I have to go. I’ll only be gone for six months. Then I’ll be back here for a month and then leave again.” He explained as I still pouted.

“That’s such a long time Nikki. We haven’t been apart before.” I explained as he chuckled.

“Princess, I’ve gone on countless tours and you were fine with it, what’s the issue now?” He asked as he grabbed his wallet and sunglasses from the nightstand.

“We weren’t together before.” I mumbled as he sighed and sat down on the bed next to me.

“It’s gonna be fine. We’ll be fine. Stop all that worrying in that pretty little head of yours. You’ll be fine and I’ll be fine.” Nikki tried reassuring me, but it wasn’t working.

“You trust me, right?” He asked, guiding me by my chin to look at him.

I nodded, “Yes, of course I trust you...”

“That doesn’t sound convincing babe.” He chuckled, pressing his lips to mine briefly.

I shook my head, taking his hand away from my face and holding it, “No! I do trust you. I just don’t trust the groupies and the people who may or may not offer you booze or drugs.”

He sighed, “The girls are always gonna be apart of it, that’s just how it is. But baby I love you and only you, you know that. Those chicks could never compare to you and they could never suck my cock as well as you can.” He said with a laugh as I lightly hit his chest.

“And the drugs or the booze, no one is gonna be around us that will jeopardize all of our sobriety. There’s gonna be rules.” Nikki explained as I nodded.

I pressed my hand against his cheek as he kissed the palm of my hand, “You’ll call me if it becomes too much? I don’t care what time it’s at, if you need me, call me.”

He put his hand on top of mine, “Yes, especially after I kick the groupies out of my hotel room after a long night of orgies.” He joked as I slapped his chest harder this time.

He wrapped his arm around me and brought us down to the bed, “I’m only joking.” He laughed as he kissed the front of my neck and down my chest a bit, “I’m going to miss you so god damn much.” He mumbled, laying his head on my shoulder.

I nodded, “I’m gonna miss you too. I don’t know what I’ll do with myself, we haven’t been apart since rehab.” I felt him sigh on top of me as he kissed my shoulder.

Our time was cut short as we both heard honking from outside, signaling the limo was here to pick him up. He got off of me and grabbed his suitcases. I helped him by grabbing his backpack as I followed him down the stairs.

“Just think, by the time the tour finishes we’ll be getting married.” Nikki spoke softly as I handed him the backpack.

“...And then a whole life of rockstar touring.” I said as he sighed, “...and you leaving all the time and-“ He cut me off by putting his hand over my mouth.

“You can always back out now if you want.” He suggested, eyebrow raised as he stared at me.

I scoffed, shoving his hand away, “Please, I am not a pussy.”

He smiled as he bent down to pet Anarchy, “You be good, pretty girl.” Anna wagged her tail and gave Nikki a sloppy, wet kiss.

Nikki handed his bags to the driver as he put them away. Nikki grabbed my hand and pulled me too him, arms quickly wrapping around my waist, “I love you, and I’ll be back. I’ll probably end up flying you out in a few months.” He mumbled as he kissed the top of my head.

I sniffled, feeling his light laughter as he held me tighter, “Van, Babe. Don’t cry, please don’t cry.” His voice was smooth as he pulled away from me, wiping my tears away with his thumb.

“We’re gonna be fine.” I told him as he nodded.

“Yes baby girl, cause we’re Nikki and Vanity and we get through everything.” He whispered before softly pressing his lips against mine. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer to me.

“Tell me I’m the best.” He muttered against my lips as I smiled into it.

“Nikki Sixx, you’re the best and you’re gonna fucking kick ass on this tour.”

Nikki smiled widely, stepping away from me as he still held my hand, “I love you and I can’t wait to marry you.” He said, kissing my ring before placing my hand on his chest.

“Sir, we have to get to the airport. The others are waiting.”

“I love you Sixx, go do what you do best.” I said as he smirked.

“Well, that requires me to take you back upstairs then.” He quickly replied, causing my face to heat up as I shook my head.

“Go away.” I told him as he laughed. Nikki stole one last kiss from me before getting into the limo.

“I’ll call you, doll.” Nikki said, rolling down the window as he put up the devil horns. I returned them right back as I watched the limo take him away.

I exhaled deeply, sitting down on our front steps as I played with the engagement ring. Anarchy laid down by my feet as I rubbed her back.

“Just a few months without him. We’ll be fine.”

*five months later, June 1990*

“Nikki! You got a call!” A roadie yelled for me as I stepped away from some girls after they asked me to sign their tits. I grabbed the phone and brought it up to my ear.

“Kept me waiting long enough, Sixx.” I smiled hearing Vans voice.

“Well baby, you caught me in the middle of something.” I chuckled as she groaned.

“Let me guess, another orgy?” She joked as I heard the wind in the background.

“You driving somewhere?” I asked as she stayed quiet.

“Yeah uh...just doing a few things. When does the show start?” She questioned as I looked down at my watch.

“Mmmm, in about forty minutes. Skid Row is on right now..” I explained as I heard her let out an audible gasp.

“Can...can you get me an autograph? I love them.” I rolled my eyes, “Is this gonna be another Guns and Roses thing?” I asked as she let out a laugh.

“No, but Sebastian Bach has really pretty hair and a nice voice, but I prefer my bassist.”

“Good answer, doll. I miss you. Did you get the invoice for the plane ticket next month?” I asked as I hopped up on a metal crate.

“Yeah I did, the lay over is really long but it’s fine I’ll deal with it...I miss you too Nik, I’m so bored without you. I taught Anarchy how to roll over.” Vanity explained as I smiled to myself.

“That’s good princess. And i know it’s been hard but we’re almost half way through it.”

“Nikki! We gotta go!” T-bone said, banging his drumsticks against the wall.

“Show time?” Vanity asked, I could hear the pout in her voice, “Yes Princess, ill call you when the shows over and I’m back at the hotel...and I’ll get you an autograph from the band too.”

I heard her giggle followed by loud yelling, “I thought you were driving?” I questioned as she again went quiet, “Vanity?”

“I was driving, but I got to where I needed to be it’s uh...just some guys doing stuff-“ I then heard some guy yelling for her over the phone.

“Nik, I gotta go! Good luck tonight! I love you!”

“I lo-“ I stopped talking when I heard the phone call disconnect. I handed the phone back to the roadie.

“Everything good back at home?” Tommy asked as I looked at him. I shook off my thoughts and put on a smile.

“Yeah man, lets go play.”

*Vanity’s POV*

“You’re late.” Doc said to me as I smiled, handing him over my luggage.

“You’re fault for getting me a late flight, and I was hungry.” I explained as he huffed. He handed me a lanyard that had a badge with Nikki’s face on it. I glanced at it, seeing him iconically sticking his finger up his nose. What a gentleman.

“He still doesn’t know you’re here?” Doc questioned as he led me to Nikki’s dressing room. No loose panties and no bottles of jack. It was completely different. The only thing that was left was cigarette smoke in the air.

“No, not a clue.” I smiled widely at him, “I gotta get dressed and then I’ll be ready to go out there.” I explained as he nodded and left me alone.

About thirty minutes later, I had finished getting dressed. I picked out a pair of ripped up tight blue jeans and a torn up Dr. Feelgood T-shirt. I left my hair down and touched up my make up before putting the backstage pass back on and walking out the door.

The closer I got to the stage, the louder the fans got and I could hear that the guys were playing ‘Girls, Girls, Girls.’

Doc motioned for me and led me to the curtain as Security escorted me down by the stage right in front of Nikki. I was trying to avoid being shoved by their unruly fans as I saw Nikki rolling around on the stage. My heart felt like it was about to jump right out of my chest seeing him again.

Also, if I was wearing panties they would have dropped to the floor. He was sweaty as hell, wearing tight leather pants and no shirt as his bass hanged loosely from around his neck. His face was covered by his hair before he flipped it back and out of his face as he continued strumming his bass. I sighed, perching my elbows up on the security barrier as I watched the guys play.

I’ve never heard them sound so well. Before, the sound was tolerable but it was always off due to one of them, usually Nikki being fucked up. It was refreshing, they all looked so healthy and happy. Even Mick had a little smile on his face.

A few girls to the side of me were screaming for him to pay even the tiniest amount of attention to them. One even went out of her way to remove her black and red bra from under her shirt and threw it at his boots. I chuckled when Nikki broke out into a smirk and hung the bra over his mic stand, then watched the three girls fight over the guitar pick he threw at them.

I decided I would rather surprise him backstage, so I walked through the crowd before heading through the security wall. I jumped up on a metal crate, sitting Indian style as I watched the roadies start packing things away, mainly Skid Row’s items as their name was spray painted on the side.

I hope Nikki is happy to see me. I mean, I know he obviously would be, but I was suppose to come next month and not this month. I just thought maybe the surprise would be nice for the both of-

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” My thoughts were interrupted when a man with long dark brown hair and a nose piercing connecting to his ear with a chain approached me. I sat up straight, realizing he was Rachel Bolan.

I shrugged, “Yeah, I guess?” I glanced over him, seeing the black muscle tank top he was wearing plus extremely ripped up blue jeans.

“Do your lips taste as good as they look?” He asked, a proud smirk plastered across his face as I let out a chuckle.

“Uh....how about you go ask Nikki Sixx when he gets off stage and let me know how it goes.” I suggested, eyebrow raised as the smirk left his face in an instant.

He stumbled over his next sentence, “oh, fuck. I-I didn’t realize...you’re the girlfriend. I-I uh mean the fiancé. I am so sorry.”

I was amused watching him, “I am. I’m Vanity. Nice to meet you.” I said sticking out my hand as he gently shook it, “I’m a fan of your band.”

He smiled, “Thank you, it’s nice to meet you too. Sixx and Tommy are always talking about you.”

He quickly continued, scratching the top of his head, “Look, I really am sorry. The lighting is bad back here...”

“And you thought I was a random chick you thought you’d get lucky with?” I asked, licking my lips as I watched him squirm.

“I...I mean...yeah...I saw a super hot chick just sitting here by herself looking lonely and might wanted some company.” He defended himself as he stared at me, well at my tits.

“Oh, Nikki’s gonna love this.” I giggled as I smiled widely at him.

“No! No! Please don’t tell him! I’m already on his shit list!” He expressed frantically, as I laughed some more.

“Oh, I’m sure you aren’t on his shit list. Nikki’s a nice guy...well when he wants to be.” I pondered over the idea, “What did you do?”

He sighed dramatically and hopped up on the crate next to me, his leg resting against mine, “okay, so everything was going fine and then one night I told him that the Ramones are way better than T.rex ever would be. And then he just started being a dick, he had my bass ‘stolen’”- he used air quotes as I tried following along, “by having Tommy hide it the whole night, it’s my favorite bass. Then, he totally told this chick I was trying to bang that I had crabs! And I don’t! So he told the chick to go be with Tommy! And she was smokin hot too! He then made me get a lap dance from a really ugly stripper, did you know there was ugly strippers? Because I sure as hell didn’t.”

I stared at him, “Well...you went wrong by saying the Ramones are way better than T.rex. That’s like one of his favorite bands ever. Plus, he’s probably been bored and just having fun at your expense.” I shrugged, listening to Tommy’s drum solo.

“Well he’s an asshole.” I scoffed at his statement.

“And he’s allowing your band to open up for him, so I’d watch it if I were you.” I replied hastily as he put his hands up in defeat.

“Look babe, I’m just venting. You wanted to know.” Rachel said, causing me to roll my eyes at the pet name he assumed was okay to call me.

“You sure know how to make an impression.” I mumbled, running my hand through my hair as I looked away from him.

“I think we’re getting off on the wrong foot, can I get you a drink? We have beer in our dressing room.” Rachel suggested, smiling widely at me.

“Thought no booze was allowed on the tour?” I asked him as he shrugged.

“Within the confines of our dressing room it is. So, what do you say? Want to come meet the rest of the band?”

I stared at him for a moment, “Come on! Motley isn’t going to be done for at least another thirty minutes. I’ll get you back to Nikki before he’s off the stage.” As he continued to persuade me I hopped off the crate and stood in front of him, backing up a bit as he towered over me.

We started walking to their dressing room as he slyly slung his arm over my shoulders. I tensed up, crossing my arms over my chest as I gave myself a hug, “We have beer, whiskey and some weed if you want some.”

“No blow?” I asked sweetly as he chuckled lightly.

“Only in my hotel room sweet face.” He said with a wink as I smirked back at him. We approached a door and I could hear yelling from the other side. Rachel held the door open for me as I followed in after him.

“What did you bring to the party this time, Rachy?” I cringed at the nickname.

“I found Nikki’s girl just hanging around backstage and she wanted to have a little fun. Vanity, this is Dave Sabo our guitarist, but we call him Snake.” Rachel explained as I smiled with tight knit lips as I watched his eyes travel down my body.

I could tell why they call him snake.

His lips formed into a smirk as he grabbed my hand and brought it up to his lips. Yuck. Only Nikki gets away with that, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, doll.”

I grimaced, “Don’t call me that. I’m Vanity or Van.” I expressed, seeing the groupies hang around their singer, glaring at me. What is it with chicks and blonde singers of rock bands?

“So Nikki’s girl, huh? I met that cat three years ago and I swear he would’ve never let pussy tie him down.” Dave, well Snake snickered as I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, well things change.” I shrugged, glancing over at the table filled with booze and drugs.

“Dropped the needle and got himself a bitch.” Dave mumbled to Rachel as they both giggled. They were like the cheap knock off version of Tommy and Nikki.

“Show some damn respect, no wonder why you two can never get laid. Don’t know how to show a little modesty to a damn female.” Sebastian Bach stood in his half naked glory as my eyes wandered down and then back up quickly.

“It’s nice to meet you finally, Vanity.” Sebastian spoke kindly as he pushed his blonde locks out of his face.

“Like wise, big fan actually…can I uh maybe have an autograph?” I asked awkwardly as I laughed a bit.

Sebastian laughed, grabbing a Skid Row shirt and a silver sharpie, signing it before he gave it back to me, “You want a beer? Or are you sober too?”

I smiled a bit, “I’ll have a beer.” I sat down on the couch next to their drummer Rob, he paid no attention to me.

Sebastian handed me a cup of beer, “…you know, the pictures don’t even grasp how beautiful you actually are.”

I tilted my head to the side, “Could say the same thing about you.” I said, bringing the cup up to my lips.

Fuck! What are you doing, Vanity!! This is not another Slash thing!

Sebastian laughed a bit, “Thank you darling. I was told you were coming next month while we were in Miami?”

I shrugged, “Yeah, that was the plan but I miss him and I wanted to surprise him.”

The next thing that came out of his mouth, made me feel like he wasn’t even listening and was just taking me as a fun loving party chick, like the rest of these blonde headed bimbos in here.

“You want some blow?”

My eyes shifted to the plastic baggie of white powder he held between his fingers, “…as long as you don’t tell what we’re doing in here and you keep it between us.” Rachel added this time, taking the baggie from Sebastian and started shaping lines on the table.

These dudes were opening up for Motley Crue every night, more than likely hanging out with them afterwards. I’m sure Nikki and the guys knew they were under the influence, I mean I hope they would know. They knew the signs.

“Do you want some, sweetheart?” Sebastian asked me again, but I quickly stood up.

I cleared my throat, “Thanks for the autograph and the beer but I’m gonna go.”

He chuckled, “What? You have to be sober too?”

I tried smiling, “No, it’s just better if I leave. So I don’t get in trouble or anything, thanks for the offer.” I said reaching for the doorknob but Sebastian still followed me.

“Trouble? You’d get in trouble? From Nikki?” Sebastian laughed a bit as he tried to wrap his head around it.

“Well, when your boyfriend is a recovering addict and you get a little high on dust, a little argument happens and I’m not in the mood to argue with him, usually I am…but not tonight.”

He shakes his head, “I thought you were suppose to be more fun. From what Tommy and Nikki have mentioned and from what Slash has said too, we opened up for them too.”

My eyebrows raised as I glared at him, watching that grin of his slowly fade away, “Get the fuck away from me and take your stupid shirt.” I spat out, throwing the shirt at his torn up pair of converse before slamming their dressing room door shut.

What an asshole. To think I liked their music.

I shook it off, hearing that music was no longer playing throughout the arena and it was just the residual yelling of fans leaving. I walked down the long corridor seeing at the end a whole bunch of fans lined up leading to a room for a meet and greet session.

I sneaked my way into the room with minimal glares from their fans as I saw all four of them sitting at a table signing autographs and taking pictures. I hid behind two fans in front of me and waited until it was my turn.

Tommy saw me first, his smile became bigger as he nudged Vince and pointed at me. I reached across the table and gave them both a hug. Mick eventually saw me and only waved and smiled.

“Hey Nikki, can I have an autograph?” I questioned as he looked up at me. His smile grew wider as I chewed on my bottom lip staring at him.

“For the Princess? She can have anything she wants.” He smiled, singing a poster and sliding it across the table for me.

“No, no, can you sign my ass?” I questioned as his eyes grew wide, before he could even respond I unbuttoned my jeans. I turned around to face him and pulled them down just a little bit, not exposing much but just enough to tease him a bit.

I felt him sign his name beneath the tattoo before pinching it. I buttoned my jeans back up and turned around to face him, seeing his cheeks a crimson shade as he took a sip of his water.

“When will you be done?” I asked him, “Now, I can be done now.” He quickly spat out as he stood up, almost knocking the chair to the floor.

I chuckled a bit, “finish talking to your fans, I’ll be around.” I said, reaching over the table and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“I’ve missed you.” He mumbled softly, putting his hand on the side of my face. In return, I only smiled at him before walking out of the room.

*Nikki’s POV*

I need to get out of these leather pants. Unbuckling them and unlacing the strings did nothing for the hard on I had going on. We breezed through every autograph and picture with our fans and soon enough I was telling the guys I’d catch up with them later.

I pretty much ran to my dressing room, just to see that Van wasn’t in here. I groaned in frustration, knowing that she was playing a game with me. And boy, was she fucking winning.

I left my dressing room to search for her. I searched where the food and beverage area was, she wasn’t there. I went back to my dressing room to see if she came back, she hadn’t. My ears perked up when I heard her laugh in the hallway. I stepped out the door seeing her walking between Vince and Tommy.

“Vanity.”

“Nikki.” Her lips curled into a smirk as she stared at me. I glared at my band mates as they took the hint.

“See you in a little bit Van.” The guys said before leaving, smirking at me and patting my shoulders before leaving us in the hallway together.

“Surprise?” She giggled before closing the distance between us. Her big hazel eyes burrowed holes into mine.

“When did you get here?” I asked, putting my hands on her hips as I pulled her to me, her body being pinned to mine.

She ran her nails through my hair, “Oh, maybe an hour or two ago. I was on the phone with you when I got to the arena.”

She continued, “I was even right in front of you in the crowd, but you were oblivious to me as those girls threw their bra at you.” She laughed, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.

“God, I’ve missed you.” I bluntly said, pulling her into a tight hug. I buried my head in the crook of her neck, taking in the smell of her floral perfume.

“I’ve missed you more.” She mumbled, reaching up to kiss my lips. I moaned into her mouth, tasting her vanilla chapstick. I deepened the kiss, pulling her closer to me if that alone was even possible. I put my hand on the side of her face, as she held my hand there. She nipped my bottom lip before I felt her tongue run across it. Her fingers entangled into strands of my hair, a low growl coming from the back of my throat.

She broke the kiss, pecking my lips once more as she held my hand and started tugging me back into my dressing room.

I slammed the door shut, quickly grabbing her and pinning her against the door. She quickly went for her shirt taking it off and throwing it to the floor. I left rough kisses against her lips, then her chin and trailed them down to her chest.

“So there wasn’t any orgies.” She giggled as I glared at her.

“I wish there was, but I’ve been good.” I moaned, unclipping her pink bra and throwing it to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. I engulfed her tits in my hands as I kissed down her chest again, tongue swirling around her hardened nipples.

I came back to her lips for a hungry kiss. God, I’ve just missed the feeling and taste of her. I moved my hands to her ass, grabbing a handful as I pressed her to me before picking her up, her legs wrapping around my waist as I moved us to the couch. She straddled my lap, cupping my jaw as she stared down at me.

“I love you-“ She gave me a soft kiss, “…so very much.” She whispered before getting off my lap and dropping to her knees in front of me. Her hands came up, fingers pulling apart the laces of my leather pants as she tried pulling them down my hips.

“C’mere.” I motioned for her, helping her stand up as I unbuttoned her jeans pulling both the denim and the underwear down her legs.

I wrapped my arms around her waist as I put her back on my lap. I reached between us, shimming down my pants and feeling her soft hand grip my cock as she slowly sunk herself down on me. I closed my eyes, throwing my head back in pleasure as she did so.

“Christ, Nik.” She moaned, her hips grinding into mine when she became situated. I guided her hips into me.

“Ride me nice and slow, doll.” I groaned, sucking in a deep breath of air as I watched my cock glisten with her wetness. She brought her lips down on mine, hands pulling on my hair as I started forcing my hips up to meet hers. I use to hate when chicks would pull my hair during sex, then Vanity did it one time and I was a fucking goner.

I nipped and sucked at the skin of her exposed neck, digging my teeth rather hard into her, only for her to yell my name out. I smacked her ass, only for her to be louder. I missed the sound of her sweet little moans and I needed to have it.

I wrapped my arms around her body, moving us so now she was underneath me on the couch. I gripped her leg and put it around my waist as I fucked her harder. I didn’t give two fucks about making love or whatever the hell you want to call it, and quite frankly I know she didn’t either.

“Nikki! Fuck!” She screamed out, wrapping her arm around my shoulder and digging her nails into my skin. I groaned into her ear, feeling her warm pussy tighten around my cock. And I knew I was a goner. But can you really even blame me? I’ve been away from my girl for months.

“I’m…I’m not gonna last…” I choked out as I softly kissed her lips, only for her to laugh under me.

“That’s okay.” She giggles some more, making me smile as she kissed me, nipping my bottom lip. I brought my hand between our bodies as my fingers danced around her clit, feeling her gasp against my lips.

“Come on princess, let me have it.” I moaned into her ear, gripping her hips as I made her take all of me. Her nails clawed down my chest, already leaving a visible mark as she choked out a broken up moan of my name when I felt her cum around my cock.

I focused on working her through it as her cries and whimpers echoed through my dressing room, feeling on edge myself.

“Yo! Sixx! Van!! They want us out!” Tommy yelled from the other side, banging on my door.

“Jesus Christ.” I mumbled, growing angry, “Fuck off T-bone!!” I growled as I tried putting my focus back on Vanity.

“C’mon Nik, cum for me.” Vanity egged me on, her teeth gently grazing over my ear. I felt my release bubble over as I slowed my thrusts down but still stayed inside of her.

“Mmm, I’ve missed you.” I mumbled, dragging my lips across her shoulder.

“Missed me or just missed fucking me?” She asked, running her nails up and down my back.

I chuckled, “Hm, I think as of right now I missed this sweet little pussy a bit more.” I teased as she rolled her eyes.

“Dudes!! Can we fucking-“ Tommy busted through the door and then smacked his hand over his face, “I am sorry, I didn’t know you two would be fucking already.”

Vanity was beet red as I kissed her cheeks, “T-bone, get out!” She yelled at him, rolling her eyes as she pushed me off her.

“Okay! Okay! I’m going! But get dressed we’re going to the strip club with the guys!” Tommy was ecstatic as I glared at him, he quickly left.

“Fucking Tommy.” I muttered as I pulled my pants back up, situating myself inside them. I handed Van her matching bra and panty set and she got dressed too.

I threw on a shirt and tied my laces as I watched her pull up her jeans and pull out a red laced tube top and put it on, “You ready?” I asked as she glared at me through the mirror.

“Okay, okay put on your make up and fix your hair.” I chuckled as she smiled back at me.

“Fix your hair too, it screams the ‘I just pounded my girl into the couch ten minutes ago’ look.” Vanity teases as I shook my head and ran my fingers through my hair.

“Yeah, Yeah. Don’t worry doll, there will be more later too. I’m just getting started.” I smirked at her, eyebrow raised as she stared at me before quickly breaking the gaze and continuing to fix her make up.

*Strip club, Vanity’s POV*

“Lemon drops?” A bartender offered the boys shots, they all glared at her.

“Don’t mind if I do.” I chuckled, reaching for one until I saw Vince’s glare set on me, and it fucking left me burned.

I slowly put the shot down, “Water is fine.” I mumbled as I sipped on my sparkling lemon spritzer.

“You can have a drink, you know that right? You know I don’t care.” Nikki said, wrapping his arm back around my shoulder as I sat there bored.

“No, it’s fine. Water is…fine.” I pouted, “Your bandmates seem to care.” I whispered to him as he rolled his eyes.

“Dude, Vanity can have a drink without you getting all pissy.” Nikki snapped at Vince as I frowned.

“Nik, stop it’s fine.” I demanded but Nikki glared at me in return, “No, you can have a fucking drink without this fuckhead getting his panties twisted in a knot!” Nikki shouted as he continued his hot gaze on Vince.

“This is just fucking great.” Vince cackled, “This isn’t fucking fun anymore and I’m sick and tired of not having any damn fun!” Vince yelled back as he slammed his empty glass of ice on the table.

“Whatever, did you guys see those new days in Canada? Eight more shows and then we can go home.” Nikki stared as Vince rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t see anything about any new dates.” Vince defended himself, “Maybe someone should let the lead fucking singer know what the fuck is going on here.”

Nikki chuckled, “Check your itinerary, man.” He shook his head before kissing the side of mine.

“Y’know what, Nikki? Fuck you and fuck the rest of this tour.” Vince spewed his anger out as we all went quiet and stared at him.

“Fuck me? Fuck you Vince. You’re the only one that’s being bitter and not trying to enjoy it sober-“

Vince quickly cut him off, “I’m gonna have a fucking cocktail, what are you gonna do about it Nikki? Van, let’s go get a drink.” Vince said, standing up as he pushed Tommy’s legs off the table.

I didn’t move, only looking up at him, “Fine, I’ll bring you one back.” He quickly walked to the bar, grumbling Nikki’s name and curse words as he left, only for Nikki to follow after him.

“Sixx, stop.” I said grabbing onto his hand but he brushed me off.

“Vince, c’mon man-“ Nikki said, grabbing his shoulder but Vince quickly turned around and shoved him away.

“Guys, just relax okay?” I said getting between them before Nikki had a chance to react, “Everyone’s tired and wants to go home, but this is not what you guys do. Both of you need to calm down.” I ordered the both of them as they kept glaring at one another

A bartender came up with another tray of shots as Vince took one, throwing it back as he dropped the glass to the floor, causing it too shatter as Nikki had a deadly smirk plastered across his lips.

“How about you get me that fucking itinerary, bass player.” Vince rolled his eyes before heading to the bar, where the rest of Skid Row was hanging out.

Nikki left me at the bar, ordering me a jack and coke before he left to go sit with the guys. I sighed, waiting for it to be made before I walked back to them.

“I’m sick and tired of him.” Nikki grumbled as he lit a cigarette.

“We’re just tired of being in each other’s faces. A month home will do us all good.” Mick spoke, under dark shades and cigarette smoke.

The three of them agreed as I sipped on my cocktail, glancing over and seeing Vince drinking and laughing with the other band. Rachel saw me looking and took the initiative to come over.

“You want a drink?” He asked, as Nikki’s attention quickly went to his. I held up my glass to show him, “Oh…right…I just didn’t know if you’d be allowed to drink around them.”

I rolled my eyes, “I told you I was earlier.” I closed my eyes, instantly regretting it as I felt Nikki look at me.

“Earlier? You met him earlier?” He questioned as I nodded. Do I tell him he tried hitting on me? Or just let that one slide?

“Yeah, Yeah. Earlier when I was waiting for you. I met him and the rest of his band. Did you know Sebastian is a total dickhead?”

Rachel let out a laugh, “dickhead? So that’s why you were flirting with him earlier?”

I stared him down, “Shut up, I wasn’t flirting with him. Nik, I wasn’t. He offered me blow.” I spoke, wishing I didn’t say that either.

“Blow? He offered you fucking blow?” Nikki quickly glared at Rachel, “Dude What the fuck? We told you guys no drugs at the shows. We don’t give a fuck if you do it back at the hotel, but keep it away from us.”

“Offered you blow after you asked me for it.” Rachel spat back as Nikki looked at me, I could see the anger in his eyes.

“I did not ask for it!! I just made a joke cause you named off all the booze and drugs you have! I wasn’t asking for it.” I yelled at Rachel.

“Baby, I didn’t ask-“ Nikki put his hand up and I stopped talking.

“Just fuck off Rachel, make sure my singer makes it back to his hotel room.” Nikki demanded as Rachel quickly left.

“Nikki, I didn’t ask them for coke.” I told him as he nodded, “Yeah, Whatever Vanity.” Nikki shook his head as he finished off his water.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to come and surprise him this early.

“I totally knew Sebastian was a dickhead, just fucking look at him.” Tommy scoffed, rolling his brown eyes as he tried to make me smile.

“That wasn’t the worse part. I was minding my own business waiting for Sixx and Rachel comes out of nowhere and hits me with a cheesy pick up line because he didn’t recognize me at first.” I told Tommy as he chuckled.

“What did he say?” Tommy asked leaning in a bit closer to me.

“Do my lips taste as good as they look.” Him and I both cracked up in a fit of laughter, even Mick smiled a bit.

“And what did you say?” T-bone questioned, I licked my lips as I turned to face Nikki. I ran my nails through his hair, tugging his head to look over at me.

“I told him to go find Nikki Sixx and ask him yourself.” I muttered in a sultry tone before pressing my lips onto his, feeling the vibration from a suppressed growl Nikki had let out.

“Jeez, okay. We don’t want to see you two play tonsil hockey.” Mick spoke up as I broke away from Nikki, seeing his eyes turn dark with lust.

“Sorry Mick, I’ve just missed him so very much.” I teased as my hand trailed down Nikki’s chest, only to reach his belt buckle but he quickly grabbed my hand.

“I think we’re gonna head back to the hotel, we’ll see you guys in the morning.” Nikki spoke, standing up as he tugged on my hand.

“Goodnight boys.” I said, giving them both a hug before we left.

*back at the hotel*

“You just think you’re so damn cute, don’t you?” Nikki growled in my ear as he held me from behind as we walked down the hallway to our room.

“Maybe just a little bit.” I said, reaching back and palming his bulge through his leather pants, only for him to groan in my ear. Nikki attaches his lips to my neck once again, his teeth digging into me as his tongue runnimg across soothes the pain.

“No, baby. I gotta…I gotta show you something.”

I felt the smirk against my skin, “I’m sure it can wait.” He mumbled unlocking his door as he led me inside. Nikki wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest as he planted a deep kiss on me.

“No, no. I want to show you. I’ve been-“ I let out a hiss when his cold hands went under my dress to pull my panties down.

“Show me what, princess?” He muttered, fingers unzipping my dress as they ran down my spine. He moved us to the bed, having me lay down as he kneeled on the floor in front of me.

He hiked my dress up around my waist as he smiled like a kid on Christmas, “Just let me get a taste and then you can show me.” He mumbled, dragging his lips up my thighs, but I closed my legs.

I gently put my foot on his chest to push him away as I rolled off the bed, “It’s about the wedding.” I said, trying to control my breathing as I fixed my already falling off dress.

Nikki lets out a groan, burying his face in the bed, “Babe, I told you already. You can do whatever your heart desires, just come here and lay down so I can destroy that pussy again.” He whined as I scoffed.

“Um. First of all, Ew. And secondly, I want you to be involved and pick things out with me.” I cheekily spoke as I went through my suitcase that had been brought back to the hotel and pulled out a binder.

“Jesus, really? You’re organizing the wedding? Van, the wedding ain’t for another six months.” Nikki said, adjusting himself as he sat on the bed.

“Yes, and five months have already passed since we’ve gotten engaged. You said at the end of the tour we can get married.” I pointed out as he stared at me.

“But can’t it wait? I’ve been away from you for this long already, I just need to touch you. Thought you’d be more than okay with us rolling around in the sheets all night.” Nikki pouted like a spoiled brat as he crossed his arms over his chest.

I rolled my eyes, sitting down next to him and handing all the plans and details of our wedding over to him, “And I am thrilled for that, but I want to show you first.” I said batting my eyelashes at him as I rested my chin on his shoulder.

I watched as he flipped through the pages, “There. I looked at everything now, may I continue?” He asked, putting his hand between my thighs as he attempted to move upwards. I quickly swatted his hand away.

“Nikki! C’mon!!-“ I whined, “…can we just do one normal couple thing together?”

He chuckled, “Baby, there ain’t nothing normal about you and I.” Nikki swiftly kissed my lips as he finally gave into my wishes and started looking at it.

“You want to get married at a vineyard?” He questioned, giving me a strange look.

“Well, I thought the location was pretty and they have enough room for the party afterwards. They set it up all nicely with little twinkling lights and there’s a villa on the property that is a bed and breakfast so a lot of our guests could stay there.” I explained as he nodded.

I put on pajamas as he read through everything, just to crawl back besides him, “Is that okay? I didn’t want to do a beach wedding because like everyone does that, and getting married in a church isn’t for us.”

He nodded, “Yeah, that’s fine. When are you wanting to get married? Immediately after I’m home from tour?”

I shook my head, “No, you’ll be home around February and I thought maybe having it in the spring time would be good, maybe May? I haven’t picked the date yet…”

Nikki chuckled, “How about May twenty second?”

“Why May twenty second?” I asked him curiously as he glanced over at me.

“Dunno, it was the first day that popped into my head.” He smiled as I nodded.

“Okay. I’ll book it for May twenty second-“ Nikki interrupted me, “Can it be at night? Or like late afternoon? So there’s more twinkling lights or whatever.”

I smiled at him, kissing his cheek, “Of course, babe.”

He kept flipping through the pages, “White daisies, yellow sunflowers and lavender?”

I nodded, “I thought they were pretty…”

“It sounds pretty.” He said as I let out a giggle.

“What color tie do I have to wear?” Nikki questioned as I shrugged.

“I haven’t gotten to you yet. I know I want the groomsmen to wear these rose gold ties I found because the bridesmaids dresses will match their tie….I think you shouldn’t wear one, but mom thinks you should.” I explained as he huffed and rolled his eyes.

“If you don’t want me to wear one I won’t. Have you found a dress yet?” Nikki questioned, peering over to me as I shook my head.

“No, nothing stands out. It’s kinda bumming me out because I know what I want but then when I see it I hate it, so I don’t know.” I explained, frowning as he kissed my shoulder.

“I’m sure you’ll find it.” He assured as I nodded, “But where’s the cake?”

I chuckled, “I thought we could do that together, try all the samples, pick out the designs for it.”

He smirked, “Yeah, I’d like to do that with you….I’m sorry I’m not home to be planning it with you. But these are wonderful ideas, darling. I’m all for it.”

I sighed deeply, but nodded at his words, “I wish you were too. But I know, rockstar duties come first-“

He interrupted me again, “Rockstar duties do not come first. You come first, and then the music. You inspired me to write half the songs on the album anyways.”

I melted when I heard his words. I placed my hand on the side of his face, thumb brushing against his cheek, “May I make a request though?” He questioned as I nodded.

“Can the song we dance to be Elvis’s ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’?”

I stared at him blankly as I studied the shit eating grin he had going on. That’s such a romantic song, and totally not what I had expected him to want.

“I mean, yeah. That can be our song. Are you sure, though? You don’t want ‘She Goes Down’? Maybe ‘Starry Eyes’?” I suggested as he let out a laugh.

“No princess, I want that one. Every time I hear it, I think of you.”

My smile was wide as he started singing it to me. He put down the binder and gently put me down on the bed too.

“Take my hand, take my whole life too…” he softly sang as he pressed kisses to my skin.

“For I can’t help falling in love with you.”

*three weeks later, Nikki’s POV*

I woke up in a jolt, feeling Vanity leave the bed quickly as she ran to the bathroom and started puking her guts up. I looked at the clock on the nightstand seeing that it was barely reaching nine in the morning.

I got out of bed, rubbing my face as I walked to the bathroom to hold her hair back as she continued to upchuck last nights dinner.

“Not to say I told you so, but both T-bone and I told you not to eat that sushi last night. That shit didn’t look right.” I chuckled lightly as I rubbed her back softly.

I felt her shake under my hand as she flushed the toilet and wiped her lip, “You okay?” I asked as I felt her head, “You don’t feel warm.” I said as she kinda shrugged me off and started rinsing her mouth out and brushing her teeth.

“I’m okay. I didn’t feel good last night either.” She mumbled as she looked at me through the mirror.

“Well, we can stay in bed all day, shows not till tonight, anyways. ” I explained as she shook her head.

“No. You have to meet the guys at noon for a photoshoot.”

Damn her for keeping track of my life.

“Do you want to come with me?” I asked as we left the bathroom and she got back into bed. I crawled in beside her and wrapped her up in my arms.

“I’ll pass. I just want to relax. I’m sure I’ll be fine by showtime.” She mumbled as she turned in my arms and buried her face into my chest.

I ran my hand up and down her back as I felt her relax against me. I kissed the top of her head as I heard her breathing change which meant she was falling back asleep. I decided to nap for a little while longer too.

*Vanity’s POV*

I woke up with a sour stomach and a bad taste in my mouth. I tried to control my breathing as I felt the nausea creeping back slowly. I looked over seeing a folded up piece of paper:

Van,

Had to head out. I’ll be back in a few hours. If you’re feeling better, let’s go out to dinner before the show. Love you xxx

N. Sixx

I slowly got out of bed, digging through my clothes as I pulled on a pair of leggings and a sweater. I called for the chauffeur shortly after and had him take me to the local grocery store to pick up some ginger ale and saltine crackers.

When we arrived at the store I told him I would only be a few minutes. I may have went to the store to pick up some home remedies, but I found myself looking at pregnancy tests.

Nikki’s dumb sometimes, I swear. I knew it wasn’t the sushi. I also knew that I hadn’t gotten my period since before I left California to join him on tour, and that was over a month ago. My period was suppose to be here last week and nothing has happened. The only thing that has happened was a lot of unprotected sex.

I sighed and grabbed a test, only to grab another one from a different brand and another one different from the first two. Better safe, then sorry. Which also applies to why we should be using condoms when I’m not on the pill.

I paid for my items, as the clerk gave me a weird look. Anyways, I hurried back to the driver as he took me back to the hotel. I had no idea when Nikki was going to be back, so I quickly went to the bathroom, locking the door for good measure.

I sat down on the toilet, using the first test as I did my thing and laid it out on the counter. Longest three minutes of my life.

My eyes widened when I saw that little plus sign, “oh fuck.” I muttered as I ran my hand through my hair.

I quickly ripped open the next package as I thankfully had enough in the tank to go again. Another three minutes passed as I furrowed my eyebrows in a confused expression as I saw both a plus and a minus sign, maybe the first one was just a false negative and maybe I missed my period because I’m stressed or maybe my hormones are off this month.

I started becoming panicked as I lit a cigarette and started smoking in the bathroom, which was quick to make me nauseous all over again so I quickly stubbed it out.

I opened up the next package, “Please..I’m begging you..” I whispered as I sat on the toilet trying to go. I took the test and waited, but this one took five minutes for the results to be ready.

I cleaned up the bathroom, throwing the tests to the bottom of the trash can, ripping off extra toilet paper and crumpling it up just to be on the safe side.

I heard a beeping noise, the test letting me know it was ready as I dreadfully picked it up and saw the results. I slumped down to the the floor as i saw the words ‘pregnant’ staring back at me.

149 notes · View notes

9riffin · 7 years

Text

Trapped (What would happen if an Instagram profile came to life?)

Chapter One

Lawrence slid the shiny black key-card into the modern mahogany penthouse door. It beeped and shone a warming green colour, which extinguished as he fell onto the door to open it. The Gamme Rouge brand welcome pack, containing his arrangements for the coming Paris Fashion Week, was unopened on the glass coffee table, alongside his American passport. Earlier, Lawrence’s first gallery showing for his new venture had been a success, with supermodels Karen Jens and Beatrix Hadou in attendance. Their presence had solidified Lawrence’s reputation on the young entrepreneurial fashion circuit. His burgeoning success inflated him with pride.

He took his smartphone and scrolled through his Instanity profile, acknowledging the increase in the number of likes for his posts made throughout the day. Posts in respect of the artwork received far fewer likes than the photographs of the celebrities in attendance. Lawrence resolved to pander to this and to show little of his work in his next Instanity post, which he was drafting as he stretched out on the long brown suede sofa. The draft post was laden with images of celebrities. He was teasing the masses, exploiting their addiction to celebrity life. He knew that his audience could never achieve his lifestyle and friendship circle, and he also knew this type of post would garner maximum exposure, and greater profits for his work.

Looking at his freshly-bought Rolex, he smirked with glee and pushed back on the sofa, kicking off his Chelsea boots. They had been paining him all day. His feet were finally able to breathe again and this sent a refreshing calm through his body and eased his blisters. He ran his hands through his long dreadlocked hair. He slowly moved the Afro tubes as his fingertips tickled his scalp and relaxed his headache. He pressed Send on the Instanity post. Finally, he could enjoy a moment’s tranquillity. He arched his back on the sofa, twiddled the six signet rings on his fingers and closed his eyes.

Lawrence’s smartphone immediately began to flood with Instanity notifications. The beeps and vibrations caused him to peep through his right eye to acknowledge the virtual praise as it poured in. His chest swelled as he fully opened his eyes and let them wander around the plush penthouse.

“It’s all me, baby: Lawrence Sion, seventeen-years old, and this is my life already?!” He chuckled to himself.

A wry smile grew on his face as he looked at his watch again and scratched his blisters on the sofa. An egotistical attitude was mandatory for his level of social media celebrity. Although he was more reserved in real life, on the Instanity platform he was self-centred and brash. He found the likes to be as addictive as the cocaine that would be at the parties later; they were the powder and the rolled-up note. The Instanity addiction never slept. But Lawrence now needed to, before he was to venture out again for the evening. He stubbed his hardly-smoked cigarette into the glass ashtray on the table. He looked at his smartphone. He closed his eyes. And he fell asleep.

Moments after Lawrence was dormant, a flourish of mauve and turquoise pixels began to emanate from his phone, slowly spiralling as it propagated. Every second that it grew the colours became deeper and more intoxicating. Sound clips darted and swirled around the room, like an exhaling of cigarette smoke imbued with sound frequencies. Past conversations from within the smartphone fired themselves from the mouthpiece. The penthouse became engulfed by his smartphone’s distorted regurgitation of Lawrence’s life. The sights and the sounds joined in the vaulted space of the Parisian apartment, racing into a double-helix. They swirled together tightly and began violently tussling into a maelstrom of pixels, sound bites and Instanity images. Then they combusted horizontally, engulfing the room in a silent bright white light.

A void in space and time had opened through his smartphone. As it caused the cracking of every connected, screened device in the room, it also began to consume Lawrence’s dormant body. Within seconds, Lawrence’s smartphone had absorbed him, amid the graceful dancing around the room of his Instanity images and the images and sounds of his young life.

After a short, silent pause, a dreadlocked head then began to emerge slowly from the cyber abyss in the phone. This was followed by a lean torso and legs. The body levitated, thrashing as it tried to wrest free from the amniotic sac of pixels and Instanity images enveloping it. The chest convulsed, splitting the sac and closing the portal behind it, firing shots of navy, pink and green light. The body began to spin and landed feet-first on the floor. All the birth lights and noises ceased.

Lawrence watched from inside his phone as a figure that looked exactly like him walked around his apartment. He screamed, but no sound could escape the virtual realm in which he was trapped. The identical Lawrence laughed and vainly preened himself, looking in the mirror. He then leant forward and kissed his reflection.

“It feels fantastic to be alive! And don’t you look good, Law?!”

As Law ran his hands around his new physical body, Lawrence screamed again from inside his smartphone.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Law continued nonchalantly, picking up the smartphone from the table and staring at Lawrence in cyberspace. “There will be no need for you, any more! Who even uses our real name, anyway? You made the identity of Law_Sion, you nurtured that username, and now he’s here! Please don’t act as though you’re shocked, Lawrence, you’ve had this coming for years. Ever since you created and developed me.”

Law dispassionately closed the Instanity application and proceeded to take a photograph of himself in the mirror.

“Oh boy! You’re killing it today!” he exclaimed in self-gratification.

Law satisfied his craving for a cigarette. He filmed himself lighting-up and posted the video to Instanity. The notifications for the post quickly poured in, satisfying his sybaritic intentions as the nicotine satisfied his newly-real form.

“Perfect” he breathed as he brashly strolled around the penthouse, looking at the vast array of garments that Lawrence has brought with him. In the bedroom, a rail of cellophane-wrapped clothes took his eye. He began to rip them open, excitedly.

“Very nice!” he exclaimed, and then proceeded to model each of the outfits, before dropping them casually to the floor.

He selected the outfit he would wear to the Lars Kagen Summer Show that evening. The slim-fit, crimson three-piece suit by Becce & Ganara was garish, expensive and perfect for him.

“But it’s not quite enough,” he muttered as he reached for even more jewellery to adorn his new, physical, body.

Now clothed and preened, he flung himself back onto the bed. He took another photograph of himself and posted it. In this brief silence Law turned his mind to bringing to life some more Instanity profiles. He scrolled through the list of people Lawrence followed. He settled upon the name of Riley Conda and wrote him a message.

“What’s good, Riley? You hitting the Lars Kagen show tonight? Meet me. Our time has come.”

With wide-eyed glee, he pressed Send.

Chapter Two

The air was a brutish cold. The misty breath of the revellers was swirling in front of their faces and was sliced through intermittently by rays of sunlight. Photographers scrambled to capture the moment. All eyes of the fashion world were on the Lars Kagen Summer Show. Nothing was to be of sub-standard quality, no stitch frayed, no foot un-bruised by garish catwalk footwear. No one was to display the slightest anguish. This week was for the bravest and most beautiful; nothing less would be permitted.

Time ticked to the clipping of heels on the cobbled Parisian streets. Each stiletto was skilfully placed to avoid the cracks which would challenge their mortality. The illustriously long legs of the women were impeccably toned. Sexually soft, alluring and flowing fabrics graced their slender bony-jointed bodies.

Lars Kagen was emotionless behind his dark sunglasses. The high collar of his shirt, or years of Botox injections, choked all emotion from his face. Perhaps, decades ago, this fashion demi-god would have shown some nervousness, some excitement. Now, he personified the perceptions and values of the industry. His minions reciprocated with the expected demeanour for Fashion Week. They stood, gormless. Then as they made their way into the vast church hall, they flicked their hair intermittently, in tandem with pouting their lips and casting icy stares into camera lenses.

What had been ambient techno-music grew louder and louder, and began to boom from the huge speaker systems dotted around the old church. Spotlights flew around the ancient space, masquerading with green and red laser beams. They were seemingly performing a romantic acrobatic sequence, as if two alien life forms were courting each other. As the light show dimmed and the music faded a little, dry ice billowed from the floors. And the pre-show models attacked. They strutted in marching time to the mechanical and futuristic sound-track that engulfed all present. These fine beings did not seem out of place in an otherworldly setting. One could have accepted that they were automata, for their faces showed no flicker of flimsy human emotion. This was their battlefield, their dance floor and their habitat; their flamboyant, ultramodern home.

Riley Conda sat taking photographs and giggling with his entourage. Acne scars had invaded his face leaving him pock-marked. His dark skin was heavily tattooed as though he was attempting to make himself look even worse. He and his acolytes were sitting in the front row, a few seats along from Anais Winter, the editor of juggernaut fashion magazine Verge. She was serving them icy, disapproving glares. This was as much a sign of disrespect as it was a job. Riley knew that all those present would have seen on Instanity his antics with his cohort of famous American rappers the night before. Playing up to his online stereotype had become synonymous with reality. His need to sate his one million followers necessitated an ever-harsher catalogue of posts. He was flirting and taking photographs of himself and a trio of thick-legged and large-breasted models, whom he had brought with him on his guest-list.

“Your new short red dreadlocks look really good, Riley baby” purred one of the sybarites.

“You know it. You look real good too. Here, let’s take a quick picture. I never want to forget you”

He leant in for the photograph and as the fawning follower was distracted, he slipped his hand inappropriately close to her genitals. She winced, but did not resist.

“Hey, Riley. Chill! Not here! I heard you had those rape charges recently, right? I mean, I saw on Instanity that you were let off but you’re being a bit much right now. Is there truth in those reports?”

Riley languidly removed his hand from her thigh and brought his cocktail glass slowly to his mouth. He took a long sip while looking her straight in the eyes.

“Of course there isn’t,” he replied apathetically, “and you can leave if you want, baby, whatever.”

For a moment, she pondered leaving but quickly rationalised that the prime photographers have not yet arrived. The allure of perfect photographs and Instanity exposure beyond her station meant a prompt dismissal of her anxiety. Continuing, now playfully, she rubbed her hand over his crotch while responding:

“Riley you’re so stupid!”

She let her hand linger as she felt an unmistakable swelling within his jeans.

Riley was wearing new season Lars Kagen jeans, that had embroidered snakes and flower motifs on the thighs. His female entourage delighted in running their fingers over the stitching designs, enjoying seeing this immature, physically small man squirm with sexual elation at their coy advances. Riley enjoyed the combination of expensive jeans and his arousal, for his sexual satisfaction was as much hormonal as it was an egotistical reaction to his wealth.

“Yeah bitch, fiddle ‘dat!” he giggled, whispering in her ear and keeping his mouth very close to her ear.

He proceeded to lick his lips and open his mouth. His tongue began to sleazily lap his diamond-encrusted teeth coverings, before extending to moisten the earlobe of the female. Riley then forcefully licked the top of her ear. She squirmed in a distressed and repulsed manner, yet remained where she was and in Riley’s grasp. He radiated a sinister magnetism, combining sexually controlling and defiantly manipulative powers which the girls could not escape. Social media fame was like a ball and chain between them and Riley. She was yearning more and more for the arrival of the photographers.

Also in Riley’s group was an adolescent who sat silently in nervous trepidation. Luke was fourteen. He was English and shy amongst these brash Americans. He was looking at his Instanity profile more than the Lars Kagen show, treating his phone as a safe haven. Luke reviewed his inbox messages and re-read the invitation from Riley to join him today. He nervously rubbed his legs and accidentally dropped his phone. This attracted Riley’s attention.

“Hey, little man!” Riley shouted, pushing one of the female’s heads out of the way as he did so. “You’ve been really quiet, has this all got too much for you?”

“No, I’m just minding my own business, Riley,” he hushed nervously. “You’re obviously busy and this is my first time at a show, let alone being in the front row!”

“Put yourself to good use. Take some photos and write some notes about the show. Don’t just sit there on your phone like you were still in your parents’ place that I just got you out of. Yeah, your Instanity profile got you here and I did think you were special, but now I’m beginning to wonder.”

“Leave him, Riley. He’s young,” said one of the women, wincing.

“Shut up, bitch, or I’ll send you back where you came from too. I don’t need this.”

Riley went to take a sip of liquor from his glass but found it empty.

“Especially not today. You’re replaceable. Just like this drink. You two get friendly then if you love him so much. I’m gonna fill this up”, he said, standing and waving his empty glass at the supercilious group.

Riley swaggered past the other celebrities sitting in the front row. He exuded an aura of blissful arrogance. He relished this setting and wanted to stand out further. As he walked, his drunken fingers undid the buttons on his monogram-print shirt to reveal more of his unsightly chest tattoos. Riley could feel the eyes on him, which simply propelled his egotism, elevating him in his drunken euphoria.

The well-presented crowd members kept their heads down and their attention buried onto their smartphones. However, they had definitely looked at Riley’s Instanity profile on the very devices they were using to avoid eye contact with him. This juxtaposition was an intrinsic part of life and could be reflected in many other personal and virtual relationships at the show. With the fashion world being so centred on social media and online platforms, map-pins could be placed on the seating plan to show the interpersonal cyber stalking that had taken place.

Rather than manage to find another drink just yet, Riley’s inebriated ramble landed in the toilets. He found a cubicle and huffed as undid his trousers and belched a burp. That pleased him; it gave him the taste of alcohol in his mouth. As he sat down on the toilet, he unconsciously withdrew his smartphone and opened Instanity.

“Who’s loving me now?” he chortled, as his eyes landed on a message notification from user ‘Law_Sion’.

He pressed the screen with his dirty fingernail, closed his eyes briefly and belched again, before moving to read the message. As the message opened, a bright white light pierced the screen, cracking the glass at the centre. The pure white became an irridescent multicolour as it refracted off the glass shards, nauseating an already intoxicated Riley. He sat paralysed with shock. Two strands of pixels swam out of the phone and slowly made their menacing way towards Riley. Their beautiful other-worldly illumination was like Northern Lights in a black Nordic sky. Helpless, he mused how these lights and images appeared so different from when they were confined behind the screen. The lights and images tussled with each other, before encapsulating him in a digital cocoon, which was sucked silently back into the smartphone as it tumbled to the floor.

The commotion and glow alerted the lackey whose job it was to attend the toilet and hope for some tips from the users. He enquired hesitatingly:

“Everything all right in there, sir?”

There was no answer. He asked again and knocked on the door. The door flew open, knocking him back. The amplified cyber-Ri strode out insolently, his eyes bulging orbs of multi-coloured light. He blinked quickly, granting himself normal human eyes before the stranger had time to even see them properly.

“What do you want, man?” Ri barked at him.

“Just seeing if you are all right, sir!” he quivered back, shocked at the figure standing before him. “That’s all! You didn’t answer, I was just trying to help”

“Well I’m fine,” Ri continued as he edged intimidatingly towards the man, withdrawing his smartphone to take a photograph of the two of them. “My fans are gonna love this!” quipped Ri. “Here, let me get a picture with you, man! You look like some kind of reject from the Victorian times. What the hell are you wearing, boy?!”

Ri took the photograph with his middle finger pointed in the mirror, before walking out of the toilet, his attention on posting the photograph on Instanity.

“Watch it, Ri! You almost walked into me!”

“Law! What’s up, brother? I got your message.”

The two shared a welcoming fist-bump.

“You up for causing some trouble?” suggested Law.

“You know it, boy. Let’s do it! There’s that little protégé Luke kid that I brought with me, sitting in my row. You know him, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m up for that. Let’s mess with him. But first, let’s take a quick picture for them Instanity babes, you know!”

“Send a message to that Davina girl. She sexy as hell online but I tried to get with her last night and she’s frigid, didn’t do anything. I couldn’t get her. I felt wounded! Bring her Instanity to life and let her come along”

“Yeah, you can do it too now Ri, now you’ve received my message. Send her a message from your account… and let’s have some fun.”

Chapter Three

Many of the attendees at the Paris Fashion Week conversed through Instanity. For influencers, those who built Instanity personalities for themselves as marketable entities, this was a crucial means of communication. It enabled brands to market their wares to audiences they knew would be interested. This phenomenon effectively excluded the advertising middlemen and the need to plaster a campaign on a billboard, hoping that the appropriate audience would see it. One of these influencers was Davina.

Davina was blessed with a figure and look which was reflective of the fashion values of the day. Her eyes were disproportionately large and animated a face that was dainty, but alluring even in stillness. This topped an impeccably toned torso and slim legs. As often glorified on her Instanity profile, her derriere was large enough to entice gratification from her millennial audience but small enough to look natural and not out of place on her figure. She was attending the Lars Kagen show this evening but not before she had secured street-style photographs which fitted the aesthetic of her Instanity personality.

“Hey, guys! How’re you? Lovely to see you again,” she warmly called to the photographers across the street. “How do I look? Can we get another of me crossing the road?”

“Come over here, Davina, there is no need to shout. If you would like to get the photograph again come and see these and we can decide. I’ll message the good ones to you on Instanity later”

“Ok, darling! But I must get in one more outfit before the pre-show catwalk finishes. I want to sure that those photographers can get me in the front row with Anais Winter. She won’t be there long.”

Davina repeated the walk across the street a few more times until she was satisfied that the snappers had captured all the poses for her photographs. Her long brown hair bounced in tandem as her heeled boots struck the cobbled pavement. Her gaze never directly caught the camera, reflecting her desire to portray herself as an ethereal, effortless beauty. Impatient car drivers sound their horns, but this did not distract a focused Davina from exhausting every benefit from this perfect photo opportunity.

“I am so sorry, but I must now go to my car to change,” she cooed as she shuffled her shoulders to undo her white ruffle-trimmed shirt. “I just have one more outfit, please just wait there and let me do this. I will love you forever!”

The photographers and frustrated drivers now seeing this Russian beauty happily obliged. They watched in delighted awe at the grace, professionalism and charm of this antithesis of the traditional fashion diva.

“Some woman, that one, ain’t she?” volunteered the photographer from London Live to his French colleague from Paris Watch.

“Oui, she is the nicest of all these influencers” he replied, hands on his waist and SLR camera dangling from his neck as he delightedly shook his head. “She has respect, unlike so many of these fashion girls. Anyway, show me a couple of the photos that you have of her?”

“There’s this one, I think it could get in Verge…”

“Yeah, I like it. Did you do the Lars Kagen street style last year?”

Suddenly a flash of multi-coloured light encircled the car that Davina was using for changing. Having averted their eyes to preserve her modesty, the men’s attention was quickly engrossed in this celestial display. However, this was over by the time D had seductively hung her velvety smooth legs out of the window.

“Boys! Are ready for me now?” she purred, while slowly tinkering her red stiletto shoes up and down. Withdrawing one leg back through the window of the vintage car, she used the heel of the shoe to open the door and slowly pushed it forward.

“Do you prefer… this look?” she giggled, thriving off the bulging eyes of the men. “Or this one?” springing up and sensuously flicking her hair back over her head as she posed the alternatives.

“Bloody… hell!” exclaimed the London Live photographer as his jaw dropped.

D marched stridently back across the street towards them, using the cobbles as her catwalk.

“I know, right! How bloody good is my ass?” she asked while grabbing her asset before continuing, “Take the picture! I want just a picture of my ass to show everyone on my Instanity. Don’t you think it’s hot?”

“Yeah… Sure, Davina. Are you feeling ok? Not done a line in the car have we? That stuff’ll do you harm; you’re too good for that”

“Baby, no! I’m just sexy and bursting with confidence. How could I not with this perfect thigh gap, beautiful clothes and all this money in my bank?”

She daintily covered her mouth with the tips of her red fingernails and giggled.

“Take a picture of me on my phone right now” she demanded, riskily throwing her device to a photographer.

He caught the smartphone and did as he was bid. He took the picture and walked back to return the smartphone, eying Davina suspiciously. D immediately posted the image to Instanity and turned to the assembled photographers:

“Anyway, losers. Thanks for being unpaid and making me look fantastic. You guys are just so cute. You make me so much money and all I have to do is like a couple of your Instanity posts and, like, one promo post? I’m going to meet Ri Conda now and we’re front row. There’s gonna be better, higher-up photographers in the show itself so you’re redundant now.”

She blew them kisses and served a condescending wink before flouncing off and bounding into the Lars Kagen show. The photographers shared looks of bewilderment, and few broken hearts.

Chapter Four

The annexe of the church was alive with hundreds of people, jostling to make their connections with industry figureheads, models and influencers. Swathes of lavish canapés lined the walls, flanked by battalions of champagne flutes. The whole presentation was more reminiscent of an art installation than mere comestibles. Everything was in miniature but myriad in quantity. Pyramid piles of macaroon-encased burgers cascaded next to chocolate fondant cakes topped with glistening candied bacon. Citrus-cured sea bass on blinis sprinkled with caviar sat on beds of crème fraiche. The feast was there to be hastily devoured by everyone but the models. The food was made to be shared but most of the sharing was virtual. Instanity posts were flowing as freely as the champagne. Music ebbed from discreet wireless speakers, but was insignificant in the joyous, self-indulgent hubbub.

D trailed her hand over the delicacies, elegantly deciding which to take, as if she was writing a sentence with her index finger. The full stop landed on a glass of champagne, which she filmed herself picking up. She stared briefly at the bubbles flowing up the glass and admired their beauty. She took a picture of herself drinking it and added it to the others on her Instanity profile.

“Cheers!” Law playfully shouted to her, making sure he was heard over the crowd and loud enough to grab her attention.

“Oh my God, hey! Nice outfit, I like it. Do you like mine?”

“Cool,” Law responded with insincerity, while turning to his cyber-brother, “Ri, she’s here!”

Law lifted his arm in a beckoning gesture. Then he turned back to D, continuing:

“What did you say? Um, yeah, sure, you look hot.”

“Thanks, as if you meant it … Those street style photographers couldn’t handle it when I got into these Laubin heels. You should have seen their low-follower, insignificant faces.”

“For sure! I pay them no mind, or money, any more. It’s good being the ones who just have to get dressed in free clothes, drink the alcohol and go to the parties!” added Law.

“Sounds familiar!” Ri interjected, passionately.

“Ri, hey! Quick picture for Insta, guys? My followers will be so intrigued to see me hanging with you. It’s all good for the promo, right?” The words flew from D’s mouth like shards of glass.

“Sure, got to branch out and keep them guessing. It’s good to see you chilling with us today. Pretty little thing like you with the dirty, ugly rapper and Law. I like that. I like that you changed so quickly.”

“Yeah, how could I not meet up with someone with your Insta following? Your reach is nearly five times mine and to so many more unique users. It was a no-brainer after I read that message you sent me, Ri. It all became clear. It’s much better living for instant and outward social gratification, it’s so rewarding.”

“For sure, who can be bothered to wait for real-world timings?”

They all laughed a hollow, hearty laugh.

“You’ve nearly finished that glass D. I’ll go grab you another. I’ve got this little streetwear kid Luke with me too,” Ri continued “do you want to meet him? Big Instanity following at a really young age. He’ll go far if he sticks with us.”

“Sure, sounds cool”

“You staying here, Law?”

“Yeah, man. Go grab Luke. I’m going for a cigarette”

Ri stared at D, and tilted his head in the direction of the right-hand corner of the annexe. She followed him as he turned to walk. He placed his hand on her left buttock as she walked beside him. Glancing left to continue the conversation, she noticed the word Revenge tattooed across his throat.

“That’s, um, intense?” she said inquisitively, contemplating her plain and unadorned body.

“You not got any tattoos?”

“No, never really been my thing.”

“Well it’s a good way to keep your name in the media and keep people talking about you. A lot of mine are in keeping with my Instanity persona. Marking yourself forever for the sake of temporary gratification is what my life is like. The other rappers and stylists in my culture are always doing this; it’s one-upmanship. If it’s not face tattoos, it’s chains. You should see my chains.”

“My aesthetic doesn’t fit face tattoos or anything like that. But I have been thinking lately about how I can take my follower count higher. I might have to do something.”

“Yeah, well the internet is more real than reality. It lasts forever, and we don’t. Nothing we have can exist without it, so we may as well be it. In the virtual world, we can live forever as the best version of ourselves. You may not get face tattoos but you do see one post with nice clothes, or someone on holiday. You want your post to be better. They went to Santorini, so you go to Bora Bora. They wear a nice brand, so you wear Lars Kagen. Living as our Instanity profiles we can have the best of everything, all the time.”

“True”

“We’ve just got to convince Luke of that. He can prosper if he joins us in virtual reality. He’s there, follow me.”

Ri took his hand from her buttock and they connected palms.

Luke was standing sheepishly, alone next to the entrance to the grand show space. His outlandish outfit did not reflect his introverted personality. But with an age far younger than many of those around him, it did cause him to stand out.

“What’s good, little man? I missed you”, Riley lied.

“This is D, she’s a bit older than you but this is what you could have on your arm when you’re of age! Her follower count is a bit higher than yours, too”

“Hey Luke, darling. How are you? Ri told me about your Instanity. That’s really impressive to have such a low following to follower ratio. That’s what it’s all about now. You’re winning already and you’re so young! You could have such an incredible Instanity career ahead of you. If only you were to commit a bit more …”

“Commitment?” Luke squeaked, “I… am, committed. I love streetwear and I want this to be my career. I do.”

Ri and D laughed as D hung her arm over his shoulder.

“But committed in such a prosaic sense. So shallow; you could be so much more. How old are you again, darling?”

“Fourteen”

“Oh my God, perfect. So young! You’re already half-way there”

“What do you mean, half-way there?” Luke enquired as he pricked up his ears.

“Well, you’ve lived your life so much already in virtual mode that there is no way of going back. You can make it so much better by committing it all to Instanity. You can document your teens more and you will never regret it or be embarrassed when you look back at the posts in years to come.”

“She’s right, little man.”

“But… I guess I would have to see what my Mum thinks, you know? What does yours think of what you do?”

Ri and D both jar their heads to the right in a technical glitch and look at Luke blankly. Then Ri resumes.

“I don’t know. Why would I care? Instanity makes you only care about me, me, me. You don’t need to care about anyone else. Family values will hold you back”

“Wait! Why did you just do that with your heads? Are you robots? What the hell is going on?!”

“We’re the best versions of ourselves”, they responded in eerie unison, “join us.”

Law returned from his cigarette and networking and joined them.

“You too, Law?” trembled the isolated adolescent.

“Yeah man, me too. How do you think I got so successful? This is our life. Join us or follow a road to early extinction. Keep up with the times or be left in the dirt. Why would you want that?”

Luke hung his head and stared at the floor, and then back at the cyber-trio.

“I do want more followers. I do want more likes. I want more social media fame. I want the recognition and the outward gratification. Could you imagine how it would be if I hit one million followers?!”

His eyes flashed and sparkled as he began talk faster.

“That sounds like a dream! How do I make that dream reality? How do I join you in cyber-bliss?”

Law, Ri and D shared a knowing smile.

“D, send him the message,” said Ri.

“Check your inbox Luke, and welcome to the new reality,” said Law, proudly.

With pixels beginning to swirl, the four of them made their way into the main hall as the music rose to signal the beginning of the Lars Kagen show.

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