Fallen [Pro/?]
Title: Fallen [Pro/?]
Author: ipanicdaily
Pairing: Gabe/William
Side Pairings: Nate/Alex, William/Travis, Ryan/Brendon, Pete/Patrick
POV: 3rd; Gabe-centric
Rating: R
Disclaimer: As real as there not being a tattoo of Gabe's face on the back of Pete's ankle/leg.
Chapter Summary: New York City was never a particularly safe place to be, but especially not at night. When the sun set and the moon saw fit enough to shine, having little effect on the very illuminated city, the drug dealers emerged from their homes to lurk in the shadows and cast lines out in attempt to collect a user or a clean soul to warp into a user for their wallets. The mafia also took care of most of their business at night, using the lack of vision to their advantage in both obtaining their target and eluding the cops, leaving bodies in alleys with no trail to follow; all evidence vanished into the moonlight.
Warning: violence, language, drug use, alcoholism, sex, angelic/demonic happenings; more likely to come
Beta: lilrainforest
Author Notes: I'm going to do a little chaptered Gabilliam story =D
To the prompt of "Angel" in my prompt table.
New York City was never a particularly safe place to be, but especially not at night. When the sun set and the moon saw fit enough to shine, having little effect on the very illuminated city, the drug dealers emerged from their homes to lurk in the shadows and cast lines out in attempt to collect a user or a clean soul to warp into a user for their wallets. The mafia also took care of most of their business at night, using the lack of vision to their advantage in both obtaining their target and eluding the cops, leaving bodies in alleys with no trail to follow; all evidence vanished into the moonlight.
Gabe knew this very well, yet still roamed the less populated roads each night; often too wasted to even notice the miniscule difference in the shift of day to night. He had grown up in the city, playing the role of drug dealer in his teens, and tended to know what lurked around each corner before he reached it. Fortunately enough, because he was incredibly tall with a mouth as sharp and venomous as a cobra, people never really sought out to bother him.
And those who did never tried again.
Tonight was no different. The bar in which Gabe had been exchanging crisp green bills for small glasses of strong liquor called it a night at around two, kicking Gabe from the bar stool his ass had grown numb on and onto the street he knew too well. The purple hood of his too-large hoodie was pulled up over his dark curls, hands buried deep in the pockets at the front, and eyes focusing as much as possible on the sidewalk he tried desperately to walk straight on; a hangover already developing deep in the base of his head. Hangovers were always the worse part of drinking.
As usual, men clad in loose clothing stood with their backs pressed against the walls of closed shops in small alleyways, eyes casting out every time someone passed to hook and reel them into the shadows. Gabe avoided eye contact as he moved, long legs leading him along in what he hoped was the direction of his crappy apartment. Cars sped past him, most likely taxis running partied-out-people home, paying no attention to anyone who wasn't gaining an increasing bill in the backseat; barely stopping at lights or for the occasional nightwalker, like Gabe.
Now, one thing you must realize is that Gabe never paid any attention to the drug dealers, drug seekers, mafia workers, or even the gangs that created havoc after sundown. He minded his own business so no one minded him. The last thing Gabe wanted was trouble; having enough of a record with the police as it was. So when Gabe heard crying, begging, or painful screams in the dead-end branches off the main road he traveled on, he let his mind drift away to shut the noises out and continue on his way; careful not to look so as not to accidentally witness anything. Gabe had no interest in being a hero or vigilante of any sorts.
Tights didn't look good on him anyway.
But as Gabe passed yet another alley claimed by the shadows of the night, he couldn't help but stop to listen to very soft and pained whimpers. It didn't sound like the usual little noises of those fallen victim to the monsters of the night, which is probably what locked Gabe's legs to keep him from pressing on any further down the street; even if his apartment was a mere five blocks away. And blocks were practically nothing in the city.
Going against every rule he had set for himself, Gabe turned and stepped into the shadows, a heavy, eerie feeling falling onto him like some invisible weight. He had to strain his ears to locate the little noises again, filtering out the usual sound of sirens and horns that could always be heard in the city that never slept; no matter the hour. A thick mass of blackness stood opaque before Gabe's eyes, preventing him from seeing anything beyond his own face. The ominous feeling tugging at his gut told him to turn around and leave, go home and forget the noise, but the heart Gabe had somewhere inside his lengthy shell of a body knew that the sounds were coming from someone in dire need.
Suddenly, as though a planned part of a horror movie, a light burst to life above a little brown door on the side of one of the buildings; making Gabe jump and his heart to race. The light produced a buzzing noise, flies congregated in the dumpster a few feet away instantly magnetized to the yellow glow being emitted from the bulb. Gabe waited a moment as he calmed down and the adrenaline wore off, waiting for someone to step outside the brown door, but remained alone in the partially enclosed space with only a family of flies.
Well, that was, until Gabe's dark eyes fell to the ground where little pools of blood leading into the shadows further down caught the reflection of the light. The red substance glistened perfectly, alerting Gabe that it was fresh and, if he bent down to touch it, was probably warm. The sight of the little blood-trail only furthered Gabe's tugging feeling to just leave, but his curiosity peaked at the sight of what looked to be a small white feather floating around like a boat in one of the little pools.
Cautiously, Gabe walked towards the unlit part of the alley, a few feet from the pooled blood, just able to use the yellow light to make out outlines of everything else in the alley; including the shape of a person lying on the ground. Gabe's leather shoes were too thick for him to feel the air-light feathers beneath his feet as he approached the body, unable to make out a face or gender. "Hello?" Gabe softly spoke, surprising himself with his own hesitant and nervous voice. There was no response so, still resisting the urge to leave, Gabe got closer.
Squatting down, angled to face the light and make a quick getaway should he need to, Gabe reached out for what he strained his eyes to make out to be the shoulder, gasping slightly as his fingers touched the persons flesh. It was cold, but no dead-cold, and was slick with barely warm blood; Gabe able to feel the hard bones beneath the skin. Gently, Gabe rocked the shoulder, a common gesture to waking someone up; trying not to move the person too much in case they had serious injuries. Not that Gabe should be worrying about that anyway.
A very faint and almost forced sounding groan escaped the injured person, making Gabe stop and withdraw his hand. Not knowing what else to do, too unsettled to just leave now, Gabe took a deep breath and pushed one arm beneath the person's shoulders, grimacing as his arm splashed in more blood, then found the persons knees to slip his other arm under; using barely any effort to lift the person from the ground into his arms. Gabe headed back towards the lighted half of the alley, towards the road, stopping after he crossed the edge of darkness to look down.
What Gabe held in his arms was a bloody and bruised boy, looking somewhere between nineteen and twenty-one. "Christ;" he sighed heavily, carefully lowering the boy back down to the ground; away from the pools of blood. "You're just a kid," Gabe muttered to the seemingly unconscious boy before him. Shaggy brown strands clung to the boys face, matted down by some of the blood that escaped him and probably sweat. His naked body was very pale, whiter than anything Gabe had ever seen, contrasted greatly against Gabe's own naturally tan skin. A few feathers stuck to him, confusing Gabe slightly as to their origin, but he never questioned any practices of the mafia; though he couldn't believe such a young boy got caught up with them.
Then again, Gabe's record goes back to when he was ten; only twenty-five now with a file thicker than a text book.
Gabe couldn't resist lightly touching the boy, just to feel his skin which was incredibly soft and smooth; as though he had been born and sealed away in a bubble for years. The boy made another soft whimper to Gabe's touch, making him retract his hand as he stared down. "I can't let you die out here..." Gabe spoke mainly to himself, zipping down his purple hoodie and shrugging the fabric off. "Can't go to a hospital either," he mumbled, forcing the hoodie on the boy backwards, before sitting him up with his head on Gabe's shoulder as he zipped the fabric together.
He flinched, shivers running through his spine, as the boy moved just enough to press his face into the crook of Gabe's neck; little soft wisps of barely heated air flicking against his skin. "Just please," Gabe laid the boy back down, "Don't die." he asked the boy; briefly looking him over to check for a source to all the blood loss. What was streaked across the boy's skin was dry, meaning he was no longer losing it, giving a bit of relief to Gabe because the boy wouldn't bleed out; though he had no idea what was going on inside.
When Gabe was about to pick the boy up again, he jumped back because the boy's eyes snapped open and a loud, terrifying scream escaped him; back arching sharply away from the concrete. It didn't last long, barely a minute at most, but it was probably one of the worst and most pain-filled things Gabe had ever heard. The boy's body convulsed for a moment right at the end of his outburst, tears sliding down his face and towards the ground. Gabe watched from where he had basically fallen back, too afraid to breathe as he watched. The most terrifying part though was when the boy fell completely still and quiet again; eyes shut and body limp against the ground once more.
Gabe waited a moment before inching forward, apprehensive of drawing near, not realizing he was shaking until he reached an arm out and touched the boy. The boy didn't even make any little noises this time, to Gabe's relief, but stayed unmoving; Gabe hardly able to make out the little rises of his chest beneath the fabric. Exhaling away the last of his nerves, he's come across far more frightening things, Gabe attempted lifting the lengthy boy again; encountering no problems other than the boy's long legs which were probably matched to Gabe's.
It took a moment to orient himself, Gabe shifting his arms to cradle the now half-nude boy against his body, ignoring the blunt wind stinging his now-nude arms; letting the boy's head fall to the crook of his neck again. The boy's right arm laid on his abdomen as his left hung beside him because Gabe didn't have a third hand to bring it back up; his left arm beneath the boys back and his right beneath the boy's bent knees. He weighed practically nothing in Gabe's arms, being nothing more than an awkward increase in weight at best. "I really need to stop drinking so much," Gabe muttered as he started towards the road with a complete stranger with some sort of injuries in his arms, brining the stranger to his home.
A/N--- let me know if you think I should continue <3
Twould be somewhere around 10 chapters probably
xoxo Tabi
Author: ipanicdaily
Pairing: Gabe/William
Side Pairings: Nate/Alex, William/Travis, Ryan/Brendon, Pete/Patrick
POV: 3rd; Gabe-centric
Rating: R
Disclaimer: As real as there not being a tattoo of Gabe's face on the back of Pete's ankle/leg.
Chapter Summary: New York City was never a particularly safe place to be, but especially not at night. When the sun set and the moon saw fit enough to shine, having little effect on the very illuminated city, the drug dealers emerged from their homes to lurk in the shadows and cast lines out in attempt to collect a user or a clean soul to warp into a user for their wallets. The mafia also took care of most of their business at night, using the lack of vision to their advantage in both obtaining their target and eluding the cops, leaving bodies in alleys with no trail to follow; all evidence vanished into the moonlight.
Warning: violence, language, drug use, alcoholism, sex, angelic/demonic happenings; more likely to come
Beta: lilrainforest
Author Notes: I'm going to do a little chaptered Gabilliam story =D
To the prompt of "Angel" in my prompt table.
New York City was never a particularly safe place to be, but especially not at night. When the sun set and the moon saw fit enough to shine, having little effect on the very illuminated city, the drug dealers emerged from their homes to lurk in the shadows and cast lines out in attempt to collect a user or a clean soul to warp into a user for their wallets. The mafia also took care of most of their business at night, using the lack of vision to their advantage in both obtaining their target and eluding the cops, leaving bodies in alleys with no trail to follow; all evidence vanished into the moonlight.
Gabe knew this very well, yet still roamed the less populated roads each night; often too wasted to even notice the miniscule difference in the shift of day to night. He had grown up in the city, playing the role of drug dealer in his teens, and tended to know what lurked around each corner before he reached it. Fortunately enough, because he was incredibly tall with a mouth as sharp and venomous as a cobra, people never really sought out to bother him.
And those who did never tried again.
Tonight was no different. The bar in which Gabe had been exchanging crisp green bills for small glasses of strong liquor called it a night at around two, kicking Gabe from the bar stool his ass had grown numb on and onto the street he knew too well. The purple hood of his too-large hoodie was pulled up over his dark curls, hands buried deep in the pockets at the front, and eyes focusing as much as possible on the sidewalk he tried desperately to walk straight on; a hangover already developing deep in the base of his head. Hangovers were always the worse part of drinking.
As usual, men clad in loose clothing stood with their backs pressed against the walls of closed shops in small alleyways, eyes casting out every time someone passed to hook and reel them into the shadows. Gabe avoided eye contact as he moved, long legs leading him along in what he hoped was the direction of his crappy apartment. Cars sped past him, most likely taxis running partied-out-people home, paying no attention to anyone who wasn't gaining an increasing bill in the backseat; barely stopping at lights or for the occasional nightwalker, like Gabe.
Now, one thing you must realize is that Gabe never paid any attention to the drug dealers, drug seekers, mafia workers, or even the gangs that created havoc after sundown. He minded his own business so no one minded him. The last thing Gabe wanted was trouble; having enough of a record with the police as it was. So when Gabe heard crying, begging, or painful screams in the dead-end branches off the main road he traveled on, he let his mind drift away to shut the noises out and continue on his way; careful not to look so as not to accidentally witness anything. Gabe had no interest in being a hero or vigilante of any sorts.
Tights didn't look good on him anyway.
But as Gabe passed yet another alley claimed by the shadows of the night, he couldn't help but stop to listen to very soft and pained whimpers. It didn't sound like the usual little noises of those fallen victim to the monsters of the night, which is probably what locked Gabe's legs to keep him from pressing on any further down the street; even if his apartment was a mere five blocks away. And blocks were practically nothing in the city.
Going against every rule he had set for himself, Gabe turned and stepped into the shadows, a heavy, eerie feeling falling onto him like some invisible weight. He had to strain his ears to locate the little noises again, filtering out the usual sound of sirens and horns that could always be heard in the city that never slept; no matter the hour. A thick mass of blackness stood opaque before Gabe's eyes, preventing him from seeing anything beyond his own face. The ominous feeling tugging at his gut told him to turn around and leave, go home and forget the noise, but the heart Gabe had somewhere inside his lengthy shell of a body knew that the sounds were coming from someone in dire need.
Suddenly, as though a planned part of a horror movie, a light burst to life above a little brown door on the side of one of the buildings; making Gabe jump and his heart to race. The light produced a buzzing noise, flies congregated in the dumpster a few feet away instantly magnetized to the yellow glow being emitted from the bulb. Gabe waited a moment as he calmed down and the adrenaline wore off, waiting for someone to step outside the brown door, but remained alone in the partially enclosed space with only a family of flies.
Well, that was, until Gabe's dark eyes fell to the ground where little pools of blood leading into the shadows further down caught the reflection of the light. The red substance glistened perfectly, alerting Gabe that it was fresh and, if he bent down to touch it, was probably warm. The sight of the little blood-trail only furthered Gabe's tugging feeling to just leave, but his curiosity peaked at the sight of what looked to be a small white feather floating around like a boat in one of the little pools.
Cautiously, Gabe walked towards the unlit part of the alley, a few feet from the pooled blood, just able to use the yellow light to make out outlines of everything else in the alley; including the shape of a person lying on the ground. Gabe's leather shoes were too thick for him to feel the air-light feathers beneath his feet as he approached the body, unable to make out a face or gender. "Hello?" Gabe softly spoke, surprising himself with his own hesitant and nervous voice. There was no response so, still resisting the urge to leave, Gabe got closer.
Squatting down, angled to face the light and make a quick getaway should he need to, Gabe reached out for what he strained his eyes to make out to be the shoulder, gasping slightly as his fingers touched the persons flesh. It was cold, but no dead-cold, and was slick with barely warm blood; Gabe able to feel the hard bones beneath the skin. Gently, Gabe rocked the shoulder, a common gesture to waking someone up; trying not to move the person too much in case they had serious injuries. Not that Gabe should be worrying about that anyway.
A very faint and almost forced sounding groan escaped the injured person, making Gabe stop and withdraw his hand. Not knowing what else to do, too unsettled to just leave now, Gabe took a deep breath and pushed one arm beneath the person's shoulders, grimacing as his arm splashed in more blood, then found the persons knees to slip his other arm under; using barely any effort to lift the person from the ground into his arms. Gabe headed back towards the lighted half of the alley, towards the road, stopping after he crossed the edge of darkness to look down.
What Gabe held in his arms was a bloody and bruised boy, looking somewhere between nineteen and twenty-one. "Christ;" he sighed heavily, carefully lowering the boy back down to the ground; away from the pools of blood. "You're just a kid," Gabe muttered to the seemingly unconscious boy before him. Shaggy brown strands clung to the boys face, matted down by some of the blood that escaped him and probably sweat. His naked body was very pale, whiter than anything Gabe had ever seen, contrasted greatly against Gabe's own naturally tan skin. A few feathers stuck to him, confusing Gabe slightly as to their origin, but he never questioned any practices of the mafia; though he couldn't believe such a young boy got caught up with them.
Then again, Gabe's record goes back to when he was ten; only twenty-five now with a file thicker than a text book.
Gabe couldn't resist lightly touching the boy, just to feel his skin which was incredibly soft and smooth; as though he had been born and sealed away in a bubble for years. The boy made another soft whimper to Gabe's touch, making him retract his hand as he stared down. "I can't let you die out here..." Gabe spoke mainly to himself, zipping down his purple hoodie and shrugging the fabric off. "Can't go to a hospital either," he mumbled, forcing the hoodie on the boy backwards, before sitting him up with his head on Gabe's shoulder as he zipped the fabric together.
He flinched, shivers running through his spine, as the boy moved just enough to press his face into the crook of Gabe's neck; little soft wisps of barely heated air flicking against his skin. "Just please," Gabe laid the boy back down, "Don't die." he asked the boy; briefly looking him over to check for a source to all the blood loss. What was streaked across the boy's skin was dry, meaning he was no longer losing it, giving a bit of relief to Gabe because the boy wouldn't bleed out; though he had no idea what was going on inside.
When Gabe was about to pick the boy up again, he jumped back because the boy's eyes snapped open and a loud, terrifying scream escaped him; back arching sharply away from the concrete. It didn't last long, barely a minute at most, but it was probably one of the worst and most pain-filled things Gabe had ever heard. The boy's body convulsed for a moment right at the end of his outburst, tears sliding down his face and towards the ground. Gabe watched from where he had basically fallen back, too afraid to breathe as he watched. The most terrifying part though was when the boy fell completely still and quiet again; eyes shut and body limp against the ground once more.
Gabe waited a moment before inching forward, apprehensive of drawing near, not realizing he was shaking until he reached an arm out and touched the boy. The boy didn't even make any little noises this time, to Gabe's relief, but stayed unmoving; Gabe hardly able to make out the little rises of his chest beneath the fabric. Exhaling away the last of his nerves, he's come across far more frightening things, Gabe attempted lifting the lengthy boy again; encountering no problems other than the boy's long legs which were probably matched to Gabe's.
It took a moment to orient himself, Gabe shifting his arms to cradle the now half-nude boy against his body, ignoring the blunt wind stinging his now-nude arms; letting the boy's head fall to the crook of his neck again. The boy's right arm laid on his abdomen as his left hung beside him because Gabe didn't have a third hand to bring it back up; his left arm beneath the boys back and his right beneath the boy's bent knees. He weighed practically nothing in Gabe's arms, being nothing more than an awkward increase in weight at best. "I really need to stop drinking so much," Gabe muttered as he started towards the road with a complete stranger with some sort of injuries in his arms, brining the stranger to his home.
A/N--- let me know if you think I should continue <3
Twould be somewhere around 10 chapters probably
xoxo Tabi