Harley Nicknames Novels & Stories

"Wait. I've told you my nicknames. What are yours?" Since I've shared my nicknames, both flattering and not-so-flattering I guess it was only fair he told me his in return. A chuckle escaped him and I hate to admit that it was starting to grow on me. His chuckle, not the person behind it to be clear! I would never ever admit to liking a hockey player. "Well, you already guessed the one people use mostly. That would be: asshole. But those who know me and consider me to be their friend call me Nath or Niel. Whichever part of my name sticks with them. And I don't mind either way."

So they made do with the tight quarters. Harper tipped his head back and downed half the bottle of water in his hand. Judging by the athletic shorts, sweat and odor he'd come from the gym. He grinned at Evan and said, "Hey, Ukie." "Hey," Evan mumbled. Back in the beginning Harper's insistence on giving everyone nicknames had irritated Evan. It had seemed like calling him Ukie, short for Ukrainian, was some sort of insult that went over his head. It had taken Evan almost a year to realize that this was Harper's way of claiming people. He gave them nicknames. They weren't always flattering and people rarely liked them, but that was Harper's way. But Evan knew this was where he fit. It was mayb

“Zeke is not a kid, okay? And he can drive that Harley like nobody’s business. That’s what it’s called, by the way, a Harley, not some normal bike.” “And why did you get on that not-some-normal bike?” I cross my arms over my chest. “None of your business.” “Watch your fucking tone. Don’t go on the defensive in front of me, or I promise it’ll end ugly—for you, not me. So drop the attitude and your fucking arms.”

Mercy asks. She looks at Mercy, and smiles, “He's my dad.” Knight takes the ring, “So I take it you are the hunted, not the hunter?” his smile is small but there. “We need to get you back to the clubhouse, I'm going to give River a call, we are going to need everything you know about this guy.” “It isn't a guy,” She says, and my dread increases when she continues, “her name is Harley, she's twenty seven, five foot three, dark blue eyes, brown hair, small chest.”

I look at all the people walking out, talking, laughing, and being together. Yorick would be an amazing father and that thought has my body responding much more strongly than I would have expected. I suddenly feel a visceral need to give this man pups, pups that look like the two of us. “It’s fine, Wendy. We can talk tonight or tomorrow, Shakespeare,” Hacker says. “Shakespeare?” Wendy asks. “You haven’t met Zach. He gave us all nicknames when he first met us. I got mine for obvious reasons,” he says. “Not all of us get cool codenames,” he says much more softly. Wendy blushes and I gasp.

Chappy was referring to Athens Ohio and the Harley Davidson dealership there. “Maybe,” Judas laughed.

he said as he raised one brow and leaned forward, “unlike those guys, I do use the weird shortened version of their names. I would like to call them using the normal ones: Castile, Raphael, Orlando, William, and Nathaniel.” My eyes narrowed to slits. “I am sure I heard you mentioning Cas and Liam before.” “Okay, maybe I did but not to the other three. It feels weird saying Owl, Raph, and Niel. What kind of names are those?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Especially Niel and Owl. I still do not get it no matter how I tried. Why did he not use Nate instead? I would not mind calling him Nate.” “I like Niel.” I gave my shoulder a small shrug. “It sounds more original and less GG.”

I asked, only somewhat joking as I referred to the Untouchable that tormented and raped Olive as he pleased. ‘He-who-must-not-be-named’ wasn’t one of the nicknames she’d given him, but I couldn’t resist a good Harry Potter reference. That being said, Olive was much more creative in the nickname department. Among my favorites were asshat and the dickless wonder, but the last thing I wanted to bring up was Blaze Madden’s penis. I had a light breakfast and the last thing I wanted to do was spew it all over Olive’s shiny new car. No, thank you.

~Nick~ The name’s Nick Gracen, but most call me Lightning. I’m the local prez of the Wild Ridge MC Club. It’s a title that carries weight, respect, and a hell of a lot of responsibility. I looked around the clubhouse, a place that had seen more action than most could handle. The air was thick with the scent of oil, leather, and a hint of whiskey—a comforting blend that felt like home. The brothers were scattered around, some tinkering with their bikes, others deep in conversation about our latest shipment.