SlashyPunkBoys

Lost In The Smoke And Mirrors 2/?

Sat, 18 Jul 2009 19:19:32 GMT

Title: Lost In The Smoke And Mirrors 2/?
Author: winginblood
Pairing: Zack Baker(A7X) and Matt St Claire (Hollywood Undead)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Zack thinks the world owes him something
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction and does not reflect the personal or professional lives of any real person portrayed herein.
A/N: For falseyoureyes Hope this is somewhere close to what you had in mind and sorry about the wait.

Chapter 1

“Looks like lover boy’s back.”

“Huh?” Looking over in the direction Trixie indicated with her cigarette, Matt rolled his eyes when he saw the man that had run out on him, staring at him through the windscreen of his car. “Fuck! I really didn’t think he’d be back. Still $200 for a couple of smacks to the mouth is easy money I guess so maybe I can finish early tonight. Who knows, asshole might even be able to get it up this time.”

“Just be careful doll.” Smiling briefly at the concern on Trixie’s face as she spoke, he made his way over to the BMW slowly, exaggerating the sway in his denim clad hips until Zack dropped his eyes when Matt’s tongue poked at the cut on his still swollen lip.

Getting into the car, Matt knew it was a bad idea to antagonize the other man, but there was something about the expression on the pale face that made him think he could push a little. Plastering on his best smile, he kept his voice bright. “So what’s it to be tonight slugger?”

Cheeks colouring slightly, Zack kept his eyes downcast while he spoke. “I thought we might go and get a cup of coffee somewhere.”

Eyebrows lifting with surprise, Matt shrugged. “Whatever you want, it’s your dollar. The place across the road okay?”

Looking over to where Matt was pointing, Zack saw the tiny diner set in what looked to him like an almost derelict building. “That would be fine.”

Biting his lip to keep from laughing as Zack wiped at the vinyl seat with a white handkerchief he produced from his pants pocket before sitting down, Matt took long drink of his coffee, the silence stretching between them for a few minutes until curiosity got the better of him. “As much as I’m enjoying the warmth, I’m sure you’ve got coffee at home. Why are we here?”

Staring into the black liquid in his cup as he toyed with his plastic spoon, Zack spoke quietly. “I wanted to apologize for my behaviour the other evening. It was rude of me.”

Matt laughed out loud, causing a few heads to turn their way, not quite believing he had heard correctly. “Rude of you? Which part would that be? Hitting me or walking out?” Lowering his voice, he leant over the table. “‘Cause that was the easiest fucking money I ever made.”

Zack looked up, face red, with embarrassment at the attention Matt had drawn to them or shame over what he’d done, Matt couldn’t tell. “All of it, I shouldn’t have behaved like that. But that look on your face as you went into the bathroom was like an epiphany for me.”

Seeing the confused look on the boy’s face Zack tried again. “It made me realise I don’t much like the man I’ve become. I’ve done a lot of thinking over the past 48 hours about the things I’ve done and the choices I’ve made in my life and realised most of them were because it was what was expected of me or because I thought it would give me some sort of power or influence over someone.” Looking down again, Zack smiled softly to himself. “The only real friend I have left has been trying to tell me the same thing for years but I didn’t want to listen.”

Lifting his head again, Zack suddenly reached over the table holding out his right hand. “Can we start again? My name is Zachary, but only my mother calls me that. You can call me Zack.”

Looking a little bewildered, Matt stared at the proffered hand a moment, before reaching out to shake it. “Matt.”

They sat for another half hour, Zack talking almost non-stop about how his father had his life planned out almost from the moment he was born and how he’d just gone along with it, his coffee cooling rapidly as it remained untouched, until he caught Matt looking up at the clock on the wall behind the counter. “I’m sorry, I should let you go.”

Matt let out a strangled yelp and shot out his hand to grab Zack’s wrist as he stood, removing his wallet from his inside coat pocket and starting to thumb through the bills. “Fuck’s sake, not here man.”

Letting go of Zack’s wrist Matt jerked his head backwards towards the door as he grabbed him by the elbow instead. Moving swiftly, Matt led them into the shadows of the alley at the side of the building. “I know this is new to you an’ all but are you trying to get us arrested? You never know who could be watching.”

The flash of anger Zack had felt at being touched and spoken to that way, ebbed quickly away when the seriousness of the words struck him and he realised the boy had been looking out for him too. Glancing around nervously, almost as if he expected people to emerge out of the dirty brick walls, he spoke quietly. “I’m sorry. How much do I owe you for your time?”

“Forget about it. I’d feel bad taking any more money from you, I still haven’t done anything for you.” Pausing for a moment, Matt reached out and ran his thumb over Zack’s cheek. “Unless you wanted something else?”

Watching as Zack visibly swallowed, Matt stepped forward and slipped his hand down inside Zack’s open overcoat, pressing his palm to the older man’s crotch as he leaned into his ear, voice breathy. “Come on Zack, tell me what you want.”

Breath catching in his throat at the feel of another’s hand on him after so long, Zack found himself unable to speak as Matt’s hand easily opened his fly and slipped inside his boxers to stroke his rapidly hardening length. Managing to nod slightly when he heard Matt ask if he should continue, he let his head fall forward onto the younger’s shoulder, breath coming in sharp gasps as he fought to hold back the orgasm he could already feel building in the pit of his stomach. His battle with himself was lost a few minutes later when Matt placed a tiny kiss on the skin behind is ear as he swept his thumb over his slit and Zack released with a soft moan.

Pearl (3/5)

Sat, 18 Jul 2009 05:20:10 GMT

Title: Pearl (3/5)
Author: ak47_heaven
Rating: NC-17, for sexual occurances and violence
Pairing: Zacky/Brian, Zacky/Frank, Frank/Gerard
POV: 3rd person
Summary: I want something that you can't give me...that--when I want it--I'll have to take by force..."
Discaimer: This story contains themes and/or situations that may not be suitable for minors (ie: sexual nature, language, violence, and gore). Reader discretion is advised. I do not own any of the characters seeing as they are real people. Not true. Don't sue, i'm poor.
Author's Note: please comment, thanks.

Chapter 1
Chapter 2

Frank forcefully told everyone to go back to what they were doing and to mind their own business. He jumped down from his bunk and sat next to Zacky, whose face was downcast with confusion. Frank blinked, unsure of what to say to make the other man understand, so instead settled for getting to know him.

"Where are you from?"

Zacky's head shot up and almost hit the top of the bunk. "What the...how the hell'd you get down here so fast? And...what?"

Frank giggled and Zacky's ears turned pink. "Well," said Frank, "first I told all those other jackasses to quit staring at you, and then i..."

Zacky blushed violently, realizing he'd been staring at Frank's mouth while he spoke, and looked up. Frank had a thick eyebrow raised and was biting the side of his lower lip. Zack swallowed.

"Um...I just...um. I saw the hole in your lip and...I was trying to see if was from a lipring...yeah."

Frank blinked and smiled. "Yeah, it is. But, like I was saying. Since you're going to be sleeping underneath me," Zacky blushed and coughed, "I figured we should get to know eachother better."

Trying to ignore the sexual undertones he swore he heard in that last sentence, Zacky answered Frank's previous question. "I'm from Huntington Beach, Cali. Orange County."

Frank nodded, "I've been there once or twice. The sand's pretty nice out there. I'm from Jersey. Good ol' Jersey."

Zacky laughed before looking into Frank's defensive eyes. "No offense, man, but you don't look like you'd survive a minute in Jersey."

"Then maybe you should be there to protect me." An awkward silence arose and the two men looked away from eachother studying petty things like the fold of the blankets or how straight their shirts were. It's just shameless flirting, Zacky tried to tell himself. Finally, Frank addressed him again.

"Yeah," he said as if the conversation never took the turn it did. "I miss Jersey."

"How long have you been here?"

"I'm not exactly sure, but. I know we've been waiting for you for about two years, so I guess I've had to be here for about three."

Zacky was speechless. "Where are we, exactly?"

Frank thumbed the rip in his jeans and shrugged. "As far as I know we're somewhere near Seattle. Gerard's from Jersey, too. That's how we met."

Zacky looked at Frank with another bout of confusion in his eyes. "What exactly do you do here?"

Frank looked at him like he had spontaneously grown a toe. "Don't tell me you've never heard of Gerard Way." Zacky looked at him expectantly. "Dude, he runs the biggest human trafficking system in the United States. You see all those guys?" Zacky looked back at the other guys in the room. "They work for him. They're prostitutes, servants, drivers, lawn mowers, pool guys, eye candy...whatever clients want them to be."

Zacky looked like he wanted to cry, but stopped himself as a thought hit him. "What do you do, then? Are you one of them?"

Frank looked extremely uncomfortable, but answered nonetheless. "I used to. And then...well. Gerard thought I was like you. He thought I could bring them all back to life, so he kept me for himself."

"He loves you?" Zacky asked frankly.

Frank sighed, "maybe."

-~-~-~-~-~-~

It had been well over a week since Zacky had gotten there. He hadn't asked any more questions; he didn't think he could handle any more surprises. Slowly and slowly, he and Frank became good friends, talking late into the night about a plethora of things from music to Christmas dinner, shampoo to tattoos.

They were treated nicely there, which Zacky hated to admit. They had regular meals and showers, clothes delivered to them. Zacky had ventured to wonder out loud what kind of slavery was this lenient and Frank smiled back before rubbing his eyes, saying, 'Gerard's actually really nice...and his type of clients don't like battered boys.'

Daily, groups of boys would be summoned to Gerard's office and some wouldn't come back for days. When they finally did return, they looked unfazed, as if this happened every day since forever. Zacky stayed holed up in the room with Frank all the while, trying to piece together he and Gerard's relationship. Every so often, Matt would come get Frank, and he would come back hours later, a smile on his mouth and a little gleam in his eye. For some reason, Zacky got this pang of jealousy inside of him, just below his collarbone, knowing that Gerard wasn't worthy of Frank's pretty little mouth and tiny little hips. But it vanished as soon as they started talking again, happy in each other's company.

One day, however, Frank was taken to Gerard's office, and when he came back, his eyes were pink and puffy, and he was scratching his left arm like he was embarrassed. He didn't meet Zacky's eyes as he climbed into his bunk. Zacky finally got up to say something and Frank was sitting cross-legged looking at a worn piece of paper. More sad than angry, Zacky left Frank to be alone. They didn't talk for a week.

When they finally were back on speaking terms, Frank started out talking about the Atlantic Ocean and how different it was from the Pacific; how two things that were seemingly the same thing could be so at odds. Zacky just nodded and they sat that way for a long time until Zacky heard a sniffle, looked over and saw fresh tear on the end of Frank's nose. He reached over to smear them away, hoping that, by doing so, he could wipe away Frank's pain.

"He said...he said I coudn't stay here. He doesn't love me. He said that as soon as he gets the Pearl..." Zacky waited patiently, not daring to inquire about this 'Pearl'. "Once he gets the Pearl, he's leaving." He looked longingly into Zacky's eyes. "And there's no room for me. Not where he's going." Frank frowned bitterly.

"Frank...I..." But Zacky held back the words, knowing that nothing he said would console the other man.

"Take it away, Zacky. Make me...make it go away." He put Zacky's hand on his chest where his heart was, and biting his lip, steadily moved it downwards, over a long ribcage, past his navel.

Zacky knew he shouldn't have done it, tried so hard to pull his hand away, but all he wanted was to make the other man better. I want to fix this. I have to fix this.

Frank pulled Zacky's hand down to the crotch of his pants, his fingers shaking every so slightly, his eyes pleading for Zacky to take charge. Zacky's hand pressed harder on its own accord feeling the hard shape of Frank's cock, and he leaned forward caressing the plump part of Frank's lower lip. He kept leaning, letting his mouth take the place of his fingers. Frank moved quickly, pushing Zacky backward to straddle his hips, to make them closer and shut out even the air between them.

Zacky hardly recalls the way Frank's slender fingers slipped into his boxers before recoiling and instead grabbing Zacky's wrist. Frank led them from the room to a dark part of the building Zacky had never seen, into another room that was damp and quiet. Frank pushed Zacky against the nearest wall, who was surprised by the smaller man's strenghth. But all was forgotten yet again as Frank pressed their hips together, biting at Zacky's lips and puling his shirt over his head.

When they were fully naked, panting ragidly, manhood at the ready, Zacky pulled Frank down to the floor, knowing that he needed no preparing, knowing that Frank was ready. Zacky poised himself between Frank's legs, lined up and slick with spit. With his eyes trained on Frank's, he pushed in hard, inexplicably knowing what Frank needed. He stayed inside for a moment, trying to clear the fuzziness that the pleasure caused, then slid out and pounded in again. Frank writhed beneath him, clawing at the concrete floors, eyes fixed intensely on all of Zacky. In the moonlight, their tattoos danced across the skin, mixing with each other and bouncing on hard working muscles. Zacky quickened the pace, leaning down to nip at Frank's exposed jugular. Frank gasped and his hips quaked at the touch.

"Don't stop," he whispered, and Zacky hadn't really intended on doing so until the rough edge of Frank's voice reached his ears and he felt damn close to coming. He growled instead, biting down on Frank's shoulder and earning a low moan.

Frank came soon after, his seed landing squarely above Zacky's bellybutton. His entire body shook, and Zacky could feel him pulsing around his cock. One look at Frank's sweaty face--the way he was looking at Zacky half-lidded, mouth open, gasping for air--and Zacky came with a high-pitched groan. He collapsed on top of Frank, pulling out and feeling the other man relax. With a kiss to the temple, Zacky rolled over, pulling Frank on top of him and playing with his hair in the pale moonlight.

He didn't think about Brian.

Fri, 17 Jul 2009 21:05:49 GMT

Title: Curve Ball
Author: hormones
Pairing: Travis McCoy/William Beckett
Rating: G
POV: Third
Summary: Written for the prompt: A man learns that his young daughter has used a home pregnancy test.
Disclaimer: False.

Curve Ball

Frerard Pic Fic 1

Fri, 17 Jul 2009 19:56:53 GMT

Title: Urges (Frerard Pic Fic Series, Part 1)
Pairing: Gerard Way/Frank Iero
Rating: PG-13 for this part, R for whole series
Disclaimer: Despite repeated attempts, I cannot seem to find a way to own My Chemical Romance.
Summary: Gerard looks gorgeous, and Frank can't resist him even onstage in front of thousands of people.
Notes: Part one in a five part series of one-shots inspired by slashie Frerard pictures.

Read it here...
http://gracie321.livejournal.com/9004.html

Fri, 17 Jul 2009 19:25:38 GMT

Title: Pearl (2/5)
Author: ak47_heaven
Rating: NC-17, for sexual occurances and violence
Pairing: Zacky/Brian, Zacky/Frank, Frank/Gerard
POV: 3rd person
Summary: I want something that you can't give me...that--when I want it--I'll have to take by force..."
Discaimer: This story contains themes and/or situations that may not be suitable for minors (ie: sexual nature, language, violence, and gore). Reader discretion is advised. I do not own any of the characters seeing as they are real people. Not true. Don't sue, i'm poor.
Author's Note: please comment, thanks.

Chapter 1

Zacky froze, confused. Gerard laughed heartily an moved back across the desk to sit in his chair.

"That doesn't make any sense," Zacky protested when he finally found his voice. "What are you, some kind of sick bastard?"

Gerard held up a bony finger and shook it back and forth in front of Zacky's face, saying, "Ah, ah, ah. Such nasty language for such a gorgeous boy. What would your mother say?"

Zacky stood then, knocking his chair backwards. "You don't know shit about my family."

Gerard sat back in his chair, seeming to think for a moment, and finally spoke. "Oh, but I do. Sit down Zachary. Go on, sit." Zacky did as he was told. "We've been watching you for a long time now. We know where you live, what your childhood dog's name was, and," Gerard shuffled through some papers on the corner of his desk, "what color boxer briefs your hunky little boyfriend wore on Tuesday of last week."

Zacky leaned forward and fixed Gerard with his most dangerous stare. "Don't you dare hurt Brian. I'll kill you...I'll...I'll fuck you up so bad."

Gerard remained unfazed, tapping his fingers on the chipping wood of his desk. "I'll make you a deal then," he said standing and walking across the desk. "You stay here, work for me, loyally," he leaned against the edge of the desk and cupped the side of Zacky's face, "and give me what I want when I want it...and Mr. Haner will live to see the light of day."

Zacky sprang from his chair at those last words, grabbing Gerard by the front of his button-down shirt. "Where is he? What have you done?!"

Just then, the door swung open and Matt charged in, grabbing Zacky around the waist and pulling him away from Gerard, who straightened his shirt and put his hands in his pockets.

"I'll kill you! I'll fuckin' murder you!" Zacked yelled from the hallway. He was red-faced angry, fists balled at his sides when Matt finally put him down and pulled him by his forearm. After a few panicky breaths, Zacky finally realized that he was going down a different corridor than he had been brought. He glanced around at the dimmer lights and grimey floors.

They ultimately stopped outside a bolt-locked door, and Zacky could hear voices inside. Matt fumbled with the keys before cursing and turning to Zacky.

"I can't do this with one hand. If I let you go for a sec, do you promise you won't run off?"

Zacky nodded and stood against the wall wearily, half curious about the other voices and half tempted to run. Matt unlocked the door quickly and regained his hold on Zacky, but they didn't go in. Matt looked around to make sure they weren't being watched and spoke in a low voice. "Gerard's a cruel dude. He...he knows what he wants, and he'll get it however he can. Dont underestimate him. He'll take everything you own, ball it up and crush it under the heel of his shoe, and he won't stop for anything." Matt shook his head and looked into Zacky's eyes. "And right now, you're all he wants."

He then led Zacky through the door, and the voices on the other side hushed and all eyes watched him move. Matt took him to the far right corner, the darkest corner of the room, and let go, pausing for a moment as if to say something, but thought better off it and left. Zacky stood there for a while, not sure what to do until a tiny voice came drifting through the silence.

"You sleep here," said the voice, and Zacky turned in its general direction looking for the mouth that it came from. A tiny little man with long bangs and glinting eyes looked up. He pointed to the bunk beneath his that had starched sheets and a fluffy pillow. Zacky looked around, and all the other inhabitants were still looking at him in interest. He turned back towards his bunk and sat down hesitantly.

"I'm Zacky," he said, leaning back so he could see the other guy.

Two hazel-green eyes dropped down to look at him and blinked slowly. "I'm Frank," said the guy. He gestured to the other men in the room and spoke quietly, "Fresh meat gets all the attention," he paused, "especially when its name is Zachary Baker."

Zacky's brow furrowed. "Why's it matter what my name is? And why does everybody keep acting like I'm all important and shit?"

Frank leaned down and studied Zacky's face. "Because you have what none of us do." He pointed to Zacky's chest. "You'll bring us all back to life."

Zacky looked around at all the watching faces; all of young men like him with shiny eyes, looking hopeful.

"We've been waiting for you," Frank said.

You've got to be shitting me.

I Guess That Somethings Gotta Happen Soon [1/1]

Fri, 17 Jul 2009 17:21:57 GMT

Title: I Guess That Somethings Gotta Happen Soon.
Rating: R, mostly for language.
Pairing: Frank/Gerard.
Summary: Its the day after a one night stand, and Frank's not ready to let go just yet. Vampire! Gerard fic.
Warnings: Lots o' swearing, but no sex :[
Disclaimer: Don't own anything by the words that my fingers slave over.
Author Notes: Sequel to My Heart Has Thawed, And Continues To Beat. No NC-17, this time, but for good reason! How can you bang a sick person? Haha :D<3

One More Potential Lover

Give 'Em Hell Kid - Chapter 33/?

Fri, 17 Jul 2009 16:31:21 GMT

Title: Give 'Em Hell Kid - Sequel to My Way Home Is Through You!!
Rating: NC-17 overall.
P.O.V: Brian's
Pairing: Frank/Gerard, ~~Brian/Jimmy~~, OMC/??
Disclaimer: Not real. I have them locked up in my closet. Of course I do. Not!
Dedications: Rachael for writing this with me. Melody because she's my wifey.
Summary: Frank and Gerard are happily married, or, they were until Gerard turned up on the doorstep with a baby. Will they cope, or will their marriage suffer? This is the story of how they cope.
Author's Notes: Chapter 33. The quotes in the last chapter were 'Yippe-Ki-Yay Muthafucka!' and 'We came, we saw, we kicked [his] arse.'
So, I know it's been a while, and I'm sorry! Heh. We kept putting this chapter off. >.< But we have a schedule and you should be getting quite a few chapters in the next week. But then I'm going away to Wales in 6 days, so you won't get any after that for a few days. =]
I hope you enjoy it.
<3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15a Chapter 15b Chapter 15c Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18Part1 Chapter 18Part2 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32

Chapter 33 - Cheating While I'm Sleeping & Telling Me Lies

Brian's P.O.V

"Damn it Jimmy. Pick up!" I shouted, smacking the steering wheel. Who misses 7 calls on their phone? Seriously.

There are no lights on inside the house, but today's his day off so I know he's home. That's odd. The door is locked. Why is it locked? This is getting odder by the minute.

"Jim?" I paused, "Jimmy?" still no answer. I can hear sex noises though - oh he better not be watching porn again. I mounted the stairs, the noises getting louder. They don't sound very recorded. They sound kinda real.

"What the fuck?" I whispered under my breath. I pushed open the bedroom door and saw the one thing I prayed I'd never see. My boyfriend, the man I'm in love with, cheating on me in our bed. That fucking sucks. I'm really understating this situation. That fucking sucks? What was I thinking? It's more like, I want to fucking kill him and whatever slt he's sleeping with. He hasn't even fucking realised I'm here.

"JIMMY!" Ah, that's got his attention. And the look of horror on his face from where he's cowering in the corner of the bedroom is a picture. I can't believe he'd do this to me. I looked calmly at the man on the bed.

"Get out of my house, you fucking sleazy crackwhore." You should've seen him run. He didn't even put his clothes on. Now to deal with the cheating bastard who is still cowering in the corner.

"What. The. Fuck, Jimmy?!" I screamed, throwing the still open lube bottle at him - that preceeded to spill out all over him. "Not only do you fucking cheat on me, you do it in our fucking bedroom, you slut!" I screamed again, this time throwing the hairdryer. It hit him in the ribs. Good.

"Brian, let me explain..."

"The only thing I want to hear right now is the glorious sound of something heavy hitting your head." I raged, throwing a table lamp at him, which did hit him in the head. Satisfied that my task was complete, I started to throw clothes into bags.

"Baby, please." He pleaded, trying to take my arm.

"Don't you dare 'baby' me at this moment in time." I said through gritted teeth, yanking my arm away. I finished packing and turned to him, spitting out my next words. "Put some clothes on. You might want to think about washing yourself before hitting those sheets again, you dirty slut. I'm going. You have two days. Be gone when I get back, motherfucker."

With that, I slammed out of the house, with absolutely no idea where I was going to go.

I found myself at Frank and Gerard's. Go figure. However, it was Liam that opened the door. I just threw myself at him, dropping the bags.

"Brian, dude. What the hell?"

"He fucking cheated on me!"

"Oh God." His grip tightened on me. "Don't worry dude, we'll get it all sorted out." He said, going to pull away but I held him to me.

"Not yet."

"Okay, still hugging."

After a while I let him go. Any longer and I would've started crying and that's not very manly. I then stated, "I'm moving in for a few days."

"Urm, shouldn't I check that with dad and Frank first?"

"They won't mind, please dude. I'm desperate. I can't go back."

"Fine, come on in." He sighed, rolling his eyes.

Thank God I don't have to go back until he's gone.

Fri, 17 Jul 2009 03:46:14 GMT

Title: Pearl
Author:ak47_heaven
Rating: NC-17, for sexual occurances and violence
Pairing(s): Zacky/Brian, Zacky/Frank, Frank/Gerard
POV: 3rd person
Summary: "I want something that you can't give me...that--when I want it--I'll have to take by force..."
Disclaimer: This story contains themes and/or situations that may not be suitable for minors (ie: sexual nature, language, violence, and gore.) Reader discretion is advised. I do now own any of the characters in the story seeing as they are real people. Not true. Don't sue, I'm poor.
Author's Note: please comment, thanks.

In a desperate attempt to sit up, Zacky finally realized how dark the room was that he was in. He blinked hard in the dark, not even entirely sure he was actually blinking since the room got no lighter when his eyes were open. The heavy, rank smell of mold filled his lungs when he breathed, bouncing off of walls he couldnt see. In one sharp heave he coughed and the rasp resounded all around him, echoing and dying a few moments later. He'd been sitting there for a long time, he could tell. His right arm had been smushed under his body when he was thrown to the concrete floor and ached when he tried to raise it over his head. His legs were asleep, curled underneath him awkwardly like he'd been dumped out of a truck and left for dead. He swallowed dryly at the thought. He waited for a sign; a noise or a light so that he could be sure that he wasn't rotting in Pergatory. But nothing came, not even the stirring of footsteps or the whistle of wind through a crack in the walls.
When Zacky finally got the strength to stand--his legs stiff and unresponsive for a moment--his head hit the ceiling and he groaned airily. As far as he knew, he hadn't grown any and he wasn't that tall to begin with, so he reached a hand up and felt along the wooden ceiling that was splintering from time. He crouched and moved steadily until his hands hit something hard and cold. He trailed his fingers across it, recognizing the gritty, rough texture of cement. He was sealed in.
After what seemed like days, Zacky's stomach began to growl and turn all at once. He refrained from banging his head against the wall or floor he was leaning on and closed his eyes instead, thinking back to his times in Huntington Beach, assuming he wasn't still in his hometown. He thought about parking his new BMW outside his house, opening the front door and being engulfed in one of Brian's warm hugs and soft kisses. He thought about curling up on the couch in their family room and eating dinner and watching James Bond. He smiled to himself but let it slip from his face when he thought of how worried Brian would be, how worried his friends would be. He crawled a corner of the room, feeling along the concrete walls, and curled up on his side. This is all too much, he thought. Zacky could barely begin to think about whether or not he would leave this place, or decompose in the dark--alone.
He stayed in that position for hours, singing songs he'd memorized long ago, tapping out the beat with his long white fingers. That's when he got the idea to end it, to let go, to die on his own terms if it meant some sort of control. He'd begun taking off his shirt to wrap around his neck when he heard something. Somewhere outside the room came the heavy pitter-patter of footsteps headed in his direction. Initially, Zacky panicked, trying to push himself further into the corner, as if he could hide and camouflage his pale white skin and vibrant tattoos with the darkness of his prison cell. When the door swung open, he mustered up what courage he could find and went charging for the blinding light that cascaded in. But a heavy fist came down on his shoulder, knocking him back and throwing off his bravery. The same hand then grabbed him roughly by his shirt and pulled him into the light.
"Am I in heaven?" Zacky asked, deciding not to struggle.
"Heaven?" The guy dragging Zacky laughed. "Hell no. There ain't no heaven here. Besides, do I looked like I'd work in fucking Heaven?"
Zacky took this opportunity to observe the man that had painfully pulled him from his holding cell. He was a tall man, much taller than Zacky with these huge biceps Zacky could hardly even fathom. Zacky noticed that tattoos as colorful as his own filled the white space on the man's arms. He was wearing aviator sunglasses even though they were inside, and his legs moved swiftly along the concrete flooring. They were walking down a long corridor lined with many heavy wooden doors like the one leading to Zacky's room, and dim fluorescent lights flickered above them.
"I'm Matt, by the way. I'll be taking care of you...if you want to call it 'caring'," he laughed. Zack opened his mouth to speak but Matt cut him off. "I already know who you are. We all do. Zachary James fucking Baker. We've been waiting for you." It was only after Matt stopped talking that Zacky realized they'd stopped outside a tall steel door with a sliding peep hole. Matt knocked twice and a pair of sharp hazel eyes looked out. They blinked once and settled on Zacky before disappearing. The door open after a series of locks were opened and Matt threw Zacky inside rudely. Zacky looked up and saw the same eyes peering at him down a stark white nose.
"He thinks he's in heaven," Matt laughed from the door. The new man in front of Zacky smirked and lifted an eyesbrow.
"He does? Hm. Well then, I guess I'm God," the man turned and walked to a desk, motioning for Zacky to sit down opposite him. Zacky did as he was told, deciding to chance a question or two.
"Who are you?" Zacky asked hesistantly. The man stared at him curiously before telling Matt to leave. After the door shut, the man spoke while opening a pack of cigarettes.
"My name is Gerard," he put a cigarette in his mouth but didn't light it.
"What the fuck do you want from me?"
Gerard stood and walked over to Zacky. "I want something that you can't give me...that--when I want it--I'll have to take by force." He stroked the side of Zacky's face and lowered his lips to Zacky's ear.
"I want your pretty little heart."

Fri, 17 Jul 2009 01:36:27 GMT

Title: Black Holes And Revelations
Author: the_mourning and my wonderful friend.
Pairing: Frank/Gerard, Bob/Ray
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don't own them etc.
Summary: Frank, a 17 year old boy, is simply at the wrong place at the wrong time. What happens when he finds out the crazy phycopath that kidnapped him isn't what he seems?
Warnings: Murder, Death, a Nymphomaniac, swearing (a lot of that), attempted rape, angst, awkward fluff, sex (Implied)

Previous Chapters

The next morning, I woke before Bob. He was snoring really, quite loudly as I tugged on my shirt and slunk quietly out of the room. I made my way quickly to the elevator and stabbed the button impatiently, bouncing on the balls of my feet. I was really glad Gerard had left. I wouldn’t have got away if he was here; Gerard was a hell of a lot more alert and observant than Bob, no offence to him or anything, he seemed like a nice guy, but still. Once in the lobby, I went out into the slightly crowded sidewalk outside, trying my damnedest to stay calm and collected. But once I was down the street more, I broke into a run, making my way past street lights for a while. Eventually, I found myself in the air I was used to, the slum-like parts, the ghetto, depending on where you were. They were all the same, I could tell you exactly where drugs were being sold, had been sold, and probably were going to be sold, just from the buildings.

I was pretty damn sure the people here wouldn’t give a shit what I did. Like the people obviously making a deal that turned to stare at him as I rounded the corner of a building to catch my breath. I knew exactly who would leave me alone and who wouldn’t…

…like this guy.

The man currently advancing on me was of average height (so in other words, about a foot taller than me…) and overly skinny, obviously a major junkie, and was overall very gross looking.

“How you doin’?” The guy rasped a nasty, nasty smirk on his lips.

“Fuck off, asshole.” I growled at him, glaring.

“So that’s how you like it?” That squalid smirk growing wider, revealing blackened, rotting teeth that made me shudder.

“No. Get out of my fucking face.” I turned completely toward him, adopting my best impression of Gerard. All the while wishing I’d accepted that freaking gun.

The man laughed, planting his hand against the wall right next to my head. Just the smell of his breath made me want to throw up, and with this guy as close as he was, I was pretty sure it was going to happen, and this was coming from a kid who had seem/lived with some pretty nasty shit.

The man raised his other hand to brush the side of my cheek with one of his long, grimy fingers.

“How much you go for, kid?”

“I said, FUCK. OFF.” I was on the verge of shouting, shoving the dirty man back.

The only conclusion I could come up with for what he did next was that he was so strung out on drugs that he didn’t really know what he was doing. But then again, I could be wrong, it’s not unheard of.

The gross, filthy, sordid man stepped forward again, reaching straight for my pants. I tried to back away, but the wall was only a half-step behind me, not much room to get away. I raised a fist as a last resort to sock this guy in the face so he got the point, but never got to.

A gun shot rang out through the alley, blood spattering across my face. The man slumped down at my feet, bullet hole in the centre of his forehead.

I whipped around and saw my raven haired kidnapper (and now saviour, I suppose) standing at the entrance to the alley, gun still raised halfway, a careful expression plastered across his face. I wondered then what to do, as I wiped the blood from my face, staring at the man in front of me. My first urge was to run to him and just wrap my arms around him and thank him for probably saving my life.

I thought, maybe, that would be a bad idea.

“I told you to keep this with you, did I not?” Gerard asked almost gently, which just sent me into an even more perplexed state of awe.

I nodded, taking the few steps toward Gerard timidly, not sure what to expect, hell, now I never knew what to expect from him. Ever.

He handed me the gun, with the same expressionless look on his face, although it did look like something was starting to break through that mask of carful composure. I tucked the 9mm into the pocket of my hoodie, still staring at him, waiting for him to say something more Gerard-like, mean, angry, overly sarcastic, anything.

I never got it.

“You okay, kid?” Gerard continued, meeting my eyes, and placing his hands on my shoulders.

I nodded again unsure of what exactly was going on.

“Good,” Gerard said again, spinning me around and pushing me back the way we had came. “But I wouldn’t put that there. Anyone can tell you have it.”

“Isn’t’ that the point?” I asked, confused again.

“If you want to get arrested, sure.” I heard Gerard laugh a bit. An unusual sound, but not bad. Not bad at all.

I spun around to look at him, “Then where the hell am I supposed to put it?”

“In the front or back of your pants, move.” He spun me back around, his hands still on my shoulders.

I pulled the gun out of my pocket, and just looked at it uncertainly, walking again.

“If you don’t do it, I will do it for you.”

I did it quickly after that, tucking it just to the right of my hip bone on my left side, carefully pulling my sweatshirt over it.

“But I don’t even know how to use it,” I protested several minutes later, when the hotel was in sight again.

“Well, then I guess someone will have to teach you now won’t they?”

I was a bit worried as to who would be doing the teaching, and why Gerard would even offer that.

“But you probably won’t need to use it though, because you won’t be running away anytime soon, now will you?”

That was the Gerard I’d come to know over the last day and a half.

“No…” I sighed, but I wasn’t sure what I’d do given the opportunity.

“That’s what I thought, even though I can tell your lying.” Gerard said roughly, pushing me across the lobby into the elevator.

I watched as he stabbed the button to bring us to whatever floor we were on. We were both silent as the elevator rose.

“Why’d you do it? What would you’ve done if I hadn’t shown up?” Gerard asked, surprising me.

“I think anyone woulda, given the circumstances.” I stated firmly, “I had an opening. I took it. And I don’t know what I would’ve done, or what would have happened…. And I prefer not to dwell on it.” I never really wanted to think about it ever again if I didn’t need to.

“Where would you have gone? Assuming you got away, of course.”

I couldn’t really answer that question.

“…I woulda got home eventually…”

“Yeah, in a body bag after you were raped and murdered.”

I just love how optimistic he is. Really. Just love it.

“Thanks,” I sighed, getting pushed down the hall, “I needed that.”

“It’s true.”

Gerard slid the card key into the door, and it clicked open, and he pushed me into his room, not Bob’s

“Bob, you are an idiot.” The man behind me called loudly after the door was closed.

“You’ve informed me of this already.” The other man grumbled.

I felt kind of bad, I mean, Bob wasn’t a bad guy, and it was my fault he was getting yelled at.

“You know what?” Gerard stated a few moments later, moments in which I propped myself up against the head board and wrapped my arms around my knees, watching, “You can just leave.”

Bob stared at him, incredulously, waiting for Gerard to continue.

“It would be easier for them to catch us, anyway.”

“Yeah, alright, but I gotta talk to you, Gerard,” Bob responded with a glance at me, making me feel even more uneasy.

“Just say it, he knows everything anyway.”

“You won’t want him to know this.”

A flash of recognition crossed Gerard's face. “Oh. That.”

“Yeah, that.”Bob said, grabbing his bag and heading toward the door, Gerard following.

Now, if I were at home, actually cared, and/or knew it wasn’t about me; I would’ve tried to figure out what was going on. But none of those things applied here. So I stayed totally silent. A few moments later, Gerard came back, Bob gone.

I glanced up and him, and he glared back at me, “What?”

“Nothing…” I muttered, quickly averting my gaze. I was beginning to wonder if I would ever get my old self back. I’d been feeling small and defenceless since this all started, with good reason, and I never really had felt like this before. Usually I was confident with myself, confident I could protect myself and Ryan.

But now that was all slipping out from under me.

“Kid.” I heard Gerard say a long while later, and cracked open my eyes from where I had slumped down on the bed, getting a shock to see Gerard was standing over me, “You hungry?”

“Mmm, sure…?” I mumbled a bit confused.

“’Kay, I’ll be back.” He turned away from me, heading toward the door, “If you try and leave again I ain’t gonna go and find yer ass, got it?”

I had no chance to respond before the door slammed shut, leaving me alone. And yeah, I was totally planning on leaving now, not 3 hours ago I’d almost been raped and/or killed. Totally up for that. I sighed and closed my eyes, waiting.

Waiting for two things, really.

Waiting for Gerard to come back. And waiting for the day he finally decides ‘Hey, I don’t need this kid,’ and kills me like the rest of the people in that store. Like my brother.

Nearing 2 hours later, he was back. I opened my eyes again and sat up just in time to catch a rather large plastic bag that was hurled at my face.

“You can’t be wearing the same clothes all the time. Someone’ll notice.” Gerard said, continuing toward the small table in front of the window, carrying two smaller paper bags.

“Thanks…?” I unintentionally let a questioning tone slip into my voice.

I heard Gerard chuckle, his back still to me, “Way to be grateful, kid. You like Chinese?”

“Mmmhmm.”

I slid off the bed, making my way to the table, the smell suddenly reminding me of how hungry I really was. He turned and handed me a white carton.

“It’s all the same.” Gerard shrugged, picking up a pair of chopstick and slumping into a chair.

I sat in the other chair, slowly opening the box and reaching for another pair of eating utensils. It was orange chicken mixed with fried rice and veggies, pretty good. I ate quickly, emptying a box in a matter of minutes.

Gerard looked up at me, eyebrow cocked, “Hungry much? It’s only been two days.”

“Only two days!?” I exclaimed.

“Yeah, only two days. Your talking to a guy that’s gone three-four days with our food on a regular basis for a while.”

“Yeah, Okay.” I sighed, setting the empty carton on the table.

“Whatever, just don’t eat too fast, you’ll get sick.” Gerard said as he pushed one of the remaining three boxes toward me with a chopstick.

I cracked it open and finished half of it in the next ten to fifteen minutes, leaving the rest on the table.

By this time it was nearing nine at night, and I was kind of tired from the day’s escapades. And that’s when I noticed.

There was only one bed.

I stood there, staring and Gerard broke my panicked steam of thoughts.

“Yeah, get over it.” He obviously knew what had crossed my mind, and, ya know, it was just so easy to get over that.

“Um… I’m gonna take a shower, first.” I grabbed my bag of clothes and slipped into the bathroom, feeling his stare on my back. Once in the bathroom, I locked the door, feeling only the slightest hint of security seep back to me. Even though I knew if he wanted in, he’d get in.

I was out probably half an hour later. Once out I wrapped a towel around my waist, and pulled out almost all the clothes I the bag. On top were just shirts, just plain everyday long-sleeved t-shirts. Then I got to the pants. I realised, to my horror, that all of the jeans were (skin)tight fitting skinny jeans. My eyes widened as I stared.

“Oh, god.” I uttered under my breath, “That bastard.”

I continued going through the clothes, hoping, no, praying for something, anything, well, normal. To my slight relief, I found a pair of baggy shorts.

I pulled them on quickly, along with a shirt, cramming the rest back into the bag. When I opened the door and walked out, Gerard was smirking at me from where he was still sitting in the chair.

“Thanks,” I grumbled crossly, sitting on the single bed again. Luckily it looked quite large. I pulled myself to the headboard, and pulled the duvet from under me before curling up under it, sleeves pulled tight around my fists. I hoped I fell asleep before he went to bed, but I wasn’t sure I really wanted that either.

I sighed as I heard Gerard turn the TV down. This was going to be one hell of a stay.

Thu, 16 Jul 2009 22:09:01 GMT

Title: The Plains of the Brian-geti
Author: hormones
Pairing: Zacky/Brian
Rating: G
POV: Third
Summary: Steve Irwin + Brian Haner + Annoyed Zacky = Love.
Disclaimer: False.
Author's Notes: Set in the same 'verse as 'Caged' (the wingfic). Takes place waaay before 'Caged', however
Dedicated to: crashtumblebaby, the B to my Z.

The Plains of the Brian-geti

Twizzlers

Thu, 16 Jul 2009 17:27:19 GMT

Title: Twizzlers
Author: darkplace606
Pairing: Nick Wiggins/Derek Bloom
Band: Aiden/From First To Last
Rating: R
Summary: This is what happens when you try to romance someone via Twitter! It actually turns out pretty okay!
Disclaimer: I am pretty sure these are real people and that I do not own them. I could be wrong...but I'm pretty sure.
Author's Note: For Bexy. She's just awesome like that.

( Click to Read )

I hope you enjoy, cheers!
xoxo

A Splitting Of The Mind - Chapter 13

Thu, 16 Jul 2009 03:52:08 GMT

Title: A Splitting Of The Mind [Chapter 13]
Author: shoved2agree
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: R/NC-17
Summary: Gerard Way sees the world differently. Alone and institutionalised, Gerard claims that he is being hunted, and that his mind holds the key to existence. Does Gerard really hold such a powerful secret? Or is he just insane like everyone else in the institution?
Disclaimer: Fake.
Author Notes: Institution!Fic.
Beta: yaminoshugoshin ♥ x ∞
Warnings: Rape, schizophrenia, adult themes, sex, mental illness

Previous Chapters:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12

Chapter 13: Nobody Said Loving Him Was Going To Be Easy

Wed, 15 Jul 2009 17:00:01 GMT

Title: Betrayed
Author: chadamatthepark
Pairing: Zacky/Syn
Summary: Zacky froze, eyes wide and shivering not from the sudden burst of cold air. The intruder walked in the house, gun still trained on Zacky, and locked the front door behind him.
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: FALSE 0_o

Seven

BRENDON BOYD ROSS-WALKER (You Know What I Mean)

Wed, 15 Jul 2009 16:15:40 GMT

Title: BRENDON BOYD ROSS-WALKER (You Know What I Mean)
Author: me? stupidrhapsody
Rating: so very NC-17
Pairing: official threesome of Ryan/Brendon – Jon/Brendon
POV: 3rd
Disclaimer: hello my name is fake, and I live in Falseberg
Summary: Senior High School era. no plot. just porn. first time sex. underage sex. Christmas sex. you name it. um, Brendon rides Jon and Ryan. Jon's small dick. Ryan monster cock. uh. dildo? 7, 700 words
Beta: heyhokelso kelsey cintaku
Author Notes: THIS IS FOR papergirldreams birthday. dude, where are you? and oh, I'm going to update my Edward Cullen/Ryan Ross this week. be patient and comment? THANK YOU

Elementary School Era= Ryan spins the cola bottle halfheartedly, wanting to say that he’s bored with this game and let’s play that 7 Minutes in—“You know, I’m bored,” Phoebe sighs dramatically, “but since this is my day, I want you to kiss Jon on the lips, Ryan! Come on!”

Junior High Era Ryan and Jon have a schedule; it’s to decide who’s going to sit next to Brendon at lunch. Ryan gets Monday and Tuesday, Jon gets Thursday and Friday while Wednesday is a free day; this means that anyone can sit next to Brendon and the other party shouldn’t be mad about it. Silly schedule, really.

NOW= The thirteenth times he sees his two friends, well, Brendon is already grinding his crotch; thrusting up and down, up and down to Jon’s. They’re still in their jeans, but Brendon’s Mickey Mouse white t-shirt is hunched up, exposing the line of his back, his hips (Ryan gulps), stomach, and of course nipples.

Your Own Disaster (s/a)

Wed, 15 Jul 2009 07:14:39 GMT

Title: Your Own Disaster
Author: theyreonlyword
Pairing: Adam Lazzara/John Nolan (TBS/SR)
Rating: PG
Summary: John’s at the airport when they get back. Adam knew it wouldn’t be too long before he saw John again; he had just been hoping for a proper shower and some sleep in a real bed first
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: This isn't real, I don't own them, and I'm not making any money from this.
A/N: For the un_love_you challenge (my table is here), prompt #11 Thought I needed this. Thanks to my beta, lone_wo1f.

( fake cut )

Wed, 15 Jul 2009 05:11:55 GMT

Title: Car Bomb
Pairing: Gabe Saporta/Patrick Stump
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The beat of the music isn’t getting any faster but, oh, their hips are. Gabe's got one hand on Patrick's ass, squeezing in time to the beat, and the other is going for Patrick's dick again.
A/N: Written for a prompt at anon_lovefest.

Car Bomb

Wed, 15 Jul 2009 01:46:56 GMT

Title: Black Holes And Revelations
Author: <lj user="The_mourning">
Pairing: Frank/Gerard, Bob
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don't own them etc.
Summary: Frank, a 17 year old boy, is simply at the wrong place at the wrong time. What happens when he finds out the crazy phycopath that kidnapped him isn't what he seems?
Warnings murder, death, swearing, implied sex

I rushed hurriedly down the dirty street, toeing my younger brother—Ryan—behind me, eager to get inside. We didn’t exactly live in the nicest of neighbourhoods, actually, probably on the bottom of the ‘Nice Neighbourhoods to Live In’ list. I slipped quickly into the convenience store, making my way to the back, to grab us some sodas, and Mom’s cigarettes and getting the hell home.

Well, home wasn’t exactly the safest place either; Mom had been in a very bitchy mood lately and had taken to hitting either of us when we accidently got in her way. Times that by about twenty, that’s what she was like without the nicotine in her system.

We reached the back of the store where the coolers were and I reached in to pull out two of the sodas (she always gave me too much money, she didn’t know how much cigarettes cost anymore)when the door was thrown open violently, I stepped in front of my ten year-old brother, instinctively, to protect him. It had grown second nature in our seven years together that I protect him to my best ability.

But sometimes that wasn’t enough.

Standing in the front of the small room were two men. One had thick shoulder-length black hair and furiously demanding greenish hazel eyes. The other was slightly bulkier had blonde hair that hung into his face sometimes and a lip ring. The raven haired man stormed to the counter armed with a rather large semi-automatic—not uncommon in this part of town—demanding money.

The clerk, obviously wanting to be some sort of hero—or just freaking INSANE—denied the guy his money, shaking his head and refusing to move.

“Give me the money or the kid dies.” He growled, pointing the gun back at us. I knew this would happen eventually, but not like this, and sure as hell not with Ryan still half crouched from digging in the cooler behind me, “You have three seconds.”

The clerk made no move.

“One.” The man pulled off the safety.

Still the clerk didn’t move an inch, just kept staring at the pale man in front of him.

“Two.” There was a click as he cocked the gun.

Move damn it! I screamed at him in my head, mentally urging him to get his ass moving.

“Three.”

The bang that ripped through the enclosed space was deafening. I flinched waiting for the blinding pain that, surprisingly never came. I opened my eyes that had clamped shut, looking myself over. Then I noticed it.

A pool of blood forming around my shoes.

Ryan.

I turned halfway around, staring at my brother’s lifeless body, lying sprawled across the floor behind me. I stared on, horrified, seeing his dead eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling, still glazed over with expressions of fear and horror. I tore my eyes away from him, flicking my tear-filling eyes upward to the man who’d done it.

The man who wasn’t there anymore.

Then, suddenly I felt an arm around my neck, and the slightly warmed metal of the gun pressed to my head. Truthfully I wouldn’t have cared if he shot me too; I was too numb to care about anything right then. Apparently the clerk still hadn’t moved.

“You want another life on your hands, boy?” The man standing behind me growled out as the blonde guy stepped toward the counter that the clerk was behind.

The clerk shook his head furiously; a terrified looking in his eyes as he grabbed up a plastic bag and crammed what could only be a thousand dollars at most, into it.

I knew one of two things would happen to me then, one: he’d shoot me. Or two: for some reason, he’d leave me alone.

But neither of those things happened. The raven haired man behind me released me, pushing me forward with the gun stabbing into my back whilst growling, “Go.”

I forced my legs forward, afraid of what he’d do if I disobeyed. After being shoved out after the blonde man, who had the money, the guy behind me paused for a moment, before I heard another echoing gun shot. Why was I the only one left alive?

The gun in my back again, I was forced toward a sleek black car with dark tinted windows, impossible to see through. Obviously these guys weren’t from around here.

“Bryar, door.”

The blonde turned for a moment, before registering what he was told, and threw open the back door, into which I was roughly shoved.

Once I was inside I moved quickly out of the way. This raven haired man was gonna sit down whether I moved or not. The door slammed behind him, and the car sped off with a loud screech of the tires.

“Sit up,” He growled, lowly.

I obeyed thoughtlessly, totally terrified, to face him.

“Turn around.” He pointed behind me, at the window, which I did.

“Hands behind your back.”

I felt cool, surprisingly gentle fingers on my wrists, binding them together with some sort of cloth.

As soon as the fingers left my wrists, I was immediately blindfolded with the same type of fabric.

“Bob, move your damned arm.” The man grumbled, followed by the thud and clank of metal on metal and carpet.

“Was that necessary, Gerard? I mean, really? The clerk too?” Came the other voice that I would assume was the driver.

“What about descriptions?! He got clear shots of both our faces! I had to!”

“Then why not him too?”

It could’ve been just me, but I could’ve sworn I heard Gerard's breathe hitch.

There was a long silence after that. It stretched of for what seemed like forever. It seemed even longer to me because it’s near impossible to get comfortable with your hands tied behind your back. Eventually I found a spot slouched across the seat with my knees pinned to the seat in front of me.

“Why?”I asked quietly, voicing Bob’s questions before.

“Why what?” I heard the sharp reply from the man next to me.

“Everything. Why didn’t you kill me too? Why did you shoot Ryan and not me? And what are you gonna do with me now?”

The man completely ignored my first two questions, “What do you think we’ll do with you? Your parents won’t want you back?” The question had a stinging bitterness attached to it, like something else entirely was implied to the question.

To my own surprise, (and horror) I laughed.

“No. My mother won’t notice either of us are gone, until she needs a smoke. She doesn’t care about u—“ I cut myself off. There was no us anymore, “me.”

There was a pause before Gerard whispered something like “whose mom doesn’t give a rat’s ass about their kids?’ to Bob.

“You mean, besides yours?” Bob replied louder.

“Fuck you.” Gerard growled, “Well, if that’s how it is, I don’t know then. I’m sure we can find some use for you.”

I didn’t like the undertone of his voice nor the images that flashed through my mind.

Watch Them Snap Apart

Tue, 14 Jul 2009 06:29:29 GMT

Title: Watch Them Snap Apart
Author: starshide_fires
Pairing: Will Francis/ Angel Ibarra
Rating: PG
Summary: The world has ended and it's just Will, Angel and a porcelain doll.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters in this story. Lyrics sung by Will are also written by Will and part of a song created by Aiden called This City is Far From Here.
Author's Note: Heavily influenced by all-too-recent viewing of the movie, Knowing, and my recent understanding of the human race's imminent death in about 30 years. Dedicated to Carla. <33

Click To Read

**I'd really appreciate a comment or two on this one...I've never written an end-of-the-world story before! Thank you! :D

<333

Admitting Defeat

Tue, 14 Jul 2009 02:23:07 GMT

Title: Admitting Defeat
Author: darkplace606
Characters: Jake Davison/Will Francis
Band: Aiden
Rating: R- there's sex but it isn't kinky or anything disturbing
Summary: You can have butt sex with boys and not be gay, right? Can you be in love and not be gay? Well, you can try.
Disclaimer: The last I checked this was only fiction and therefore fake. If the situation changes I'll be sure to inform you.

Click here to read!

** So this isn't a new story, but I just realized I never posted it anywhere...and my friend is telling me it's one of her favorites so I thought I'd put it up. Thank yous, hugs and kisses to anyone who reads and comments.

cheers!
xoxo

Tue, 14 Jul 2009 01:21:49 GMT

Title: Around Your Throat
Pairing: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Frank wrapped his legs around Gerard’s waist, shoulders pressing back into the plaster. The air was sticky and sweat was pooling in the small of his back and if Gerard didn’t fuck him right the fuck now he was going to die. Drop dead right on the fucking floor.
A/N: Sequel to Won’t Give Up

Around Your Throat

Affairs of Questionable Legality (19-27 of 65)

Sun, 12 Jul 2009 22:37:01 GMT

Title:Affairs Of Questionable Legality
Author: heartsdesire456
Rating: up to NC-17
Pairing:Mikey/Ray and maybe some more later on.
POV:3rd
Summary:Mikey is an outsider with two best friends living with his older brother, who is still remembered as 'Art Fag'. Will his new English teacher, his brother's best friend from highschool, make his senior year of highschool more enjoyable, or will he cause problems that can't be solved with witty rhetoric?
Disclaimer:*glances over at naked boys tied up around room*... Define own...
Author Notes:This is a slightly older fic, but not terribly. I'm really proud of this, and most people say it ties for first or second as my best fic ever, so i hope some of you enjoy it! Please comment, but i will go ahead and say, any rude comments will be deleted (not that i expect them, this is just a general rule of mine). This is a finished fic, but it will be posted in seven sets of 9 chapters, leaving the last two chapters to be posted on their own, for they are TERRIBLE cliff-hangers and i like to watch you squirm (lol, not really, but suspence is sort of my thing, you know?)
Beta: samipoo3
WARNING: This fic contains some material that may be disturbing to some readers including, but not limited to: violence, sexual abuse. If you are sensitive to these subjects, please read with caution.

chapter 1
chapter 2
chapter 3
chapter 4
chapter 5
chapter 6
chapter 7
chapter 8
chapter 9
chapter 10
chapter 11
chapter 12
chapter 13
chapter 14
chapter 15
chapter 16
chapter 17
chapter 18

new This post:
chapter 19
chapter 20
chapter 21
chapter 22
chapter 23
chapter 24
chapter 25
chapter 26
chapter 27

Lost In The Smoke And Mirrors 1/?

Sun, 12 Jul 2009 20:17:37 GMT

Title: Lost In The Smoke And Mirrors 1/?
Author: winginblood
Pairing: Zack Baker (A7X) and Matt St Claire (Hollywood Undead)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Zack thinks the world owes him something
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction and does not reflect the personal or professional lives of any real person portrayed herein.
A/N: For falseyoureyes Hope this is somewhere close to what you had in mind and sorry about the wait.

“I dunno Jim. Everything is just so…bleugh.” Sitting back in his chair, Zack took a long swallow of his beer.

“Well aren’t you just the little ray of sunshine this evening?”

Zack ran a hand through his light brown hair. “I work a job I hate which only just pays the bills each month, with dumb fucks I wouldn’t normally give the time of day to and who question everything I tell them to do, then I go home to a wife I barely recognise anymore who’s constantly pointing out what a loser she thinks I am and wonders why I stay up watching SportsCenter until she’s asleep most nights. I’m 27 years old and the highlight of my day is jerking off in the shower in the morning. I deserve better than this. What the fuck happened to my life?”

Jimmy pretended to think for a moment, scratching his head and stretching out his long legs. “Hmmm, could it be that, like you always thought you were supposed to, you married the bleached blonde, big titted, bimbo who would fuck you six ways from Sunday as soon as look at you. But then she turned into the queen bitch from hell as soon as the ring was on her finger and she realised your dad had lost all his money and was going to jail for tax evasion?”

“Fuck you Jimmy”

Leaning over, Jimmy nudged Zack with his elbow. “You need a hobby.”

Finishing his drink, Zack threw his friend a withering look. “Fuck you with bells on Jimmy.”

Unphased, Jimmy continued. “No really, have an affair, grow a moustache, take Spanish lessons, visit a hooker, join a monastery. Just do something instead of sitting there with your usual better than everyone else attitude and complaining because you think life has screwed you over.”

“You are a shitty friend Jim.” Zack began picking at the label on the bottle.

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m a really good friend who won’t let you wallow in self pity and bitch about your life. If that is what you wanted then you called the wrong guy. You are the only one who can change things Zack. If you’re unhappy then get that stick out your ass and do something about it. Whichever type of friend I am, I’m the only one you’ve got and it’s your round so get your ass in gear short stuff and get up to the bar.”

The conversation had gone round in Zack’s head as he ran his cock through his fist that morning, and repeated itself at different times during the day as he sat at his desk, which is why he found himself in the sleazy part of town at 11pm with a couple of hundred extra dollars in his wallet. Stupid bitch could get herself a job if she wanted a trip to the beauty parlour this month.

An affair or learning Spanish sounded way to much like hard work, he hadn’t been able to decide on what type of moustache would suit him and he was pretty sure monks wouldn’t be allowed to wank. Which only left one option.

Startled from his thoughts by the tap on the passenger side window he turned to see a bare midriff framed by the glass. Pushing the button to lower the window, he recoiled slightly at the large pair of breasts, almost falling out of the tiny, neon pink, bikini top that hove into view as the girl ducked down and stuck her head in the car.

“Hi sugar. Looking for some company?”

Thoughts of his wife flashing before his eyes as he took in the blonde hair and bright red painted lips, Zack shook his head, the disdain he held for almost everyone except his mother apparent in his voice. “No offence, but you’re not really what I’m looking for.”

“None taken sweetie, takes all sorts to make a world.”

Pushing the up button, he starting raising the window again after she had ducked back out, stopping suddenly when a pale hand appeared over the edge of the glass.

Matt sighed to himself as he got out the car and walked over to lean against the wall on his corner as he light his cigarette. This was going to be a long night if all everyone wanted was a quick handjob. $20 a pop was slim pickings and that had only been his third of the night. Shivering as he pushed his lighter back into the pocket of his sinfully tight red leather pants, he wrapped his arms around the exposed skin of his stomach trying to get a little heat into his thin frame. Lifting his head when he heard his name, he saw Trixie beckoning him over and pointing to the black car at her side. Taking a long drag on this smoke, he pinched off the end and shoved it in his pocket as he jogged over.

“I dunno what he wants hun but it ain’t me. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

“Thanks Trix.” Sticking his hand over the window just before it closed, he blew the smoke out in a long thin stream as he waited till the glass dropped again before crouching down. “Hey there, am I more what you were after?”

Looking over, Zack took in the mop of dark curls framing the face that held the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. The only thing he could find at fault with the eyes was that they were set within an obviously male face.

Unsure of what to say for the first time that he could remember, Zack moved his hand to push the button that would lift the window again, emitting a slight noise of surprise when he heard the click of the central locking mechanism instead, the boy quickly opening the door and slipping into the seat beside him.

“So, what’ll it be?”

Zack’s eyes darted around as if suddenly expecting to see someone he knew. “Do you have somewhere we can go?”

“Room’ll cost you extra honey.” Lifting one foot until it rested on the seat, Matt leaned his knee out to the side as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “I’m pretty flexible though if you wanna stay in the car.”

Zack’s eyes darkened, anger tingeing his words as he saw yet another person who seemed to be questioning his authority. “I asked you a simple question. Where can we go?”

Sitting back straighter in the seat, Matt did his best to keep his smile in place as he pointed up the street. “There’s a hotel I use sometimes up that way. The night clerk’s a friend of mine who’ll take cash without putting it through the books so you don’t need to leave id.”

“You take a cut I suppose?”

Matt shrugged. “And you get a cheap rate so I think that makes us even.”

Zack fell silent as he put the car in gear and followed Matt’s directions to the hotel, only half listening to the price list he ran through, angered by the idea that this whore thought they were even in any way. He was still unsure why he’d even opened the car door, knowing only that thoughts and feelings he thought he’d put behind him in college were resurfacing. Parking the car under a street light he sat for a moment, hands gripping the steering wheel as Matt got out, almost believing he was going to drive away, before killing the engine and following the swaying hips into the rundown building.

Grimacing at the peeling paint and godawful smell that no one else seemed to notice as they entered, Zack realised this must once have been an impressive foyer in the hotel’s heyday, some 30 years and 10 careless owners ago. Placing the money for the room on the chipped and scored counter top, he pointedly ignored the comments made by the smirking clerk as he threw the room key at Matt. The wink the man threw him with his parting comment however sparked something within him.

As soon as the room door closed behind him, he grabbed Matt’s arm and pulled him round to face him, needing an answer to the question now burning in his skull. “How old are you?”

“Whatever age you want me to be, honey.” Matt’s head snapped to the side as the back of Zack’s hand connected with his cheek.

“Don’t get smart with me.” Zack spoke quietly through his clenched teeth. “And don’t make me ask again.”

“Twenty four.” Matt’s head snapped sideways again, blood appearing this time as Zack’s wedding ring caught his lip. “Twenty.”

“Now was that so difficult?”

Matt shook his head, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. Looking down at the blood as he removed his hand he turned to the bathroom, his voice soft as he spoke. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Make yourself comfortable and you can tell me what you want.”

The words may have been softly spoken but Zack didn’t miss the resignation in his tone or the barely concealed hatred in the boy’s eyes as he glanced over when he entered the bathroom.

Exiting the bathroom a short time later, Matt was surprised to find the man had left, cursing him for wasting his time and leaving him to walk back to his corner until his eyes fell on the small pile of bills on the pillow.

My Heart Has thawed, And Continues to Beat [1/1]

Sat, 11 Jul 2009 06:17:56 GMT

Title: My Heart Has Thawed, And Continues to Beat.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing:Frank/Gerard.
Summary:
Warnings:Sex. Potentially crude details.
Disclaimer:The title belongs to a line of a Bright Eyes song, and the boys own themselves.
Author Notes: I must say, I was a bit inspired by the bits and pieces of Vampires [the movie] that I watched this morning. Lots of sex, blood, and not-that-horrible special effects. I hope this doesn't freak you out, its my attempt at being sexy. Comments and criticism are welcome; tell me how I do. :]

Now My Heart's Like an Open Door

Below the Waist

Fri, 10 Jul 2009 20:43:52 GMT

Title: Below the Waist
Author: ak47_heaven
Rating: PG
Pairing: Peter/Patrick
POV: Pete
Summary: Pete writes a note to Patrick, who instead of getting angry, turns it into a hit record.
Disclaimer: first post. I do not own the aforementioned characters of this story, seeing as they are real people. I do not own any lyrics in the story, only the idea. Don't sue, i'm poor.
Beta: ME!
Author Notes: This came to me while I was eating a pb&j. So i figured, why not? [crossposted to clandestinefic]

Pete stood and looked back at Patrick, sleeping soundly on the hotel bed. He knew there was nothing he could do, no way to make it better, no way to change his ways. And somehow, he didn't want to. What he had with Patrick was different that what other people had, different from what Ryan and Brendon had every now and then, no matter how much Ryan tried to deny it. There was something in the way Patrick talked--the way he stomped his right foot onstage, how he chewed his veggie burgers and tapped on his laptop at the same time--that kept Pete coming back. But it wasn't love, it was this thing deeper than lust but lighter than the dreaded four-letter-word. Something that made Pete hate Patrick in a way that sizzled in his blood because Patrick could control him without even trying, could give him a look and make Pete hate himself more than he already did, that made Pete happiest when he could look down into Patrick's eyes when they had sex and feel that what he was doing was ok. And Patrick never told Pete he loved him, even though it was there and obvious, because he had a feeling that Pete would say it too, and everything would change; that the heavy feeling that they had would transform the moment Pete spoke those words, and it would stop being so potent.
So, Pete confessed. At 5:44 he wrote it all out, told Patrick what he felt. It was like everything else he'd ever written, except Pete taped it to the hotel television screen instead of emailing it to Patrick, and knew it wouldn't go ignored.

When he was done, he retraced he and Patrick's steps, allowing a small smile to settle on the corner of his mouth. He looked back at Patrick one last time, sleeping with his mouth open, crossed the room and let himself out.

It was me.
I wrote that goodbye note
In lipstick on your arm
When you passed out.
I thought I loved you,
It was just how you looked in the light,
With eyes the size of baby worlds;
Prettier and younger,
But not any better off—
Baby, seasons change,
But people don’t.
New York eyes and
Chicago thighs,
Fix me in 45;
I’ll always be waiting
In the back room.
I’d give a penny for your thoughts,
A dollar for your insights,
A fortune for your disaster.
I’m broken down
On Memory Lane,
Where the sewage of youth
Drowns the spark
Of my teens, where
The road outside my house
Is paved with good intentions,
Where we’re painting
Your trash gold while you sleep.
That teenage vow in a parking lot,
“’Til tonight do us part,”
Robbing lips and kissing banks
Under this moon.
Sometimes we take chances,
Sometimes we take pills.
Now I love you in the same way
There’s a chapel in a hospital.
I’m the new face of failure,
A prima donna of the gutter
Who wrote the gospel on giving up;
In this bulletproof loneliness,
I’m a stitch away
From making it,
And a scar away from
Falling apart.
I know you’ve cast a spell
Over the west to make me
Think of you in the same way
You think of me, so
We can stomp out
This disaster town, and
Bullet the words at the mockingbirds,
Singing. So we can
Sleep through the weekend
And dream of sinking with the
Melody of the cliffs of eternity.
But you’re a canary and I’m
A coal mine, crying on the couch
‘Til all the poets come to life.
This is a love song in my own way:
Happily ever after
Below the waist.

Patrick sat there for a long time, not because he was shocked or heartbroken or even remotely surprised. When he read the note, he felt the words, every last one of them. He tasted the guilt in the curl of the 'y' at the end of 'Baby', smelled the sincerity in the coils of the 'o' and 'a' in 'coal'. It hurt, sure, but Patrick knew that Pete meant every line of it. And he did the only thing he knew how to do, the only thing that made sense.

He opened a new word document on his laptop and typed quickly before the fleeting idea passed:

Baby, seasons change, but people don't...

Fri, 10 Jul 2009 17:56:42 GMT

Title: Dammit, I Was a Popular Teenage Werewolf in the Corner at Three AM
Pairing:Patrick/Pete, one Patrick/Mikey
Rating: Pg-13 to Nc-17
Summary: 10 unrelated drabbles done for the 10 songs meme.

Dammit, I Was a Popular Teenage Werewolf in the Corner at Three AM