(no subject)
Title: Hold Me Through This Cold Night
Author: Stav Hen aka Missteeq14
Bands: Fall out boy/Lostprophets
Pairing: Ian/Pete ; Mike/Jamie
Sumarrey: Pete's life is falling apart, he fought with his band mates and friends, he's stuck in L.A when he's supposed to get back to Chicago, and his cellular phone is out of range... the only person in L.A that he knows is Ian Watkins but there is a little problem.
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone from this story(I wish I had) nothing is true and forgive my english=i suck at writing stories in English.
enjoy!
x-posted in l_prophetslash behindyoursmile
3rd POV
A couple of mintunts before Ian headed to the studio he heard a knock on the door.
He didn't expect anyone, and no one was actually welcome when he was just about to get out.
Meanwhile he was trying to ignore the knocking, and concentrate of how not to forget anything.
After a couple of seconds he heard another knock on the door, still he was trying to ignore and focus on finding his cellular phone, which he couldn't go anywhere without After another couple of seconds the third knock had came.
Ian, who wasn't so calm at the moment, looked at the door desperetly and desided that if it wasn't important and it was someone who know him then he probebly knew that Ian hates being disturbed in the early houres of the morning.
"just a second!" he yelled.
He let go of his small begs, and puted them on the sofa.
He ran quickly to the door to open it, and was surprised of who was standing on his "welcome" snow covered carpet, freezing, hands huging his body trying to warm himself, and from what Ian saw it didn't really helped.
"Peter?" Ian asked confused, for a moment forgeting about the studio or his cellular phone, which didn't happened a lot.
Ian looked at the younger boy, trying to warm himself up.
He was surprised of what he saw.
The basist was covered in snow from his head down to his legs, his beautiful brown eyes were shining through his black eyeliner and turn-aside pony, he wear a short pair of pants, and to his luck he was covered with a coat on his hoodie.
Beside him, stood a big black suitcase, that showed he was probebly on a trip or... something like that.
Ian couldn't be more surprised until the end of the day.
Ian's POV
What the hell?! What the fuck is he doing here?! I wasn't supposed to see him, only on his funeral. After the shit he did to us he belongs to the grave.
Well, at least that's what the other guys would have said if they saw him standing outside of thier house, my opinion isn't so different from thiers, only mine isn't that rideculous and fanatical. She's more in the direction of.. reasonable!
I couldn't imagine that I will see him here in Beverly Hills, standing infront of me, looking so desparate, or maybe it was something else.
"Peter, what.. what are you doing here?" I stutter! and it was really rare because I do it only when i'm in the most high status of nervousness, which happened right...now!
"I'm sorry that i'm disturbing you, Ian, but I really need your help!"
Ok I'm taking back my own words. This day can be more surprising than it already has.
"Help?! you need help? Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz is asking for help?! Who died and made you desparate for help?!" I tried to hide my furios voice who was trying to explode out of my throat
"dude I... please, it was pretty hard for me to come here, so don't make it more difficult."
"I'm sorry to be rude but I can't help you right now, i'm hurry" I said in a cold way(which fit's a lot to the weather) and tried to close the door, but he stopped the door with his hand.
"You don't even know for what I need your help!!"
"I don't really care why, or what is the reason that you need my help, because it doesn't metter! I won't help you!" I tried to close the door again but he opened it with his hand again.
"You're still mad at me because of what I did with your album?"
"still mad?? What did you think that we'ill be? Ahh?! It's not some fight we had with you and now it's completed and forgotten!" he looked at me with his beautiful brown eyes, who were telling me that he's sorry, that somehow he really needs help.
But ofcourse I just couldn't get rid of my inflated ego and I kept looking at him with my angry face.
"Please! Ian, I'm sorry! Alright I know it was really idiot and stupid, and I wish I could turn the wheel back but I can't so I'm telling you. Right now that I'm sorry"
"You're telling me you're sorry only because you need help! if you were in your normal status, if it can be called noamal at all, then you wouldn't have been here saying you're sorry. because you're not!" I lowered my voice a little bit, and unlocked my face from his eyes.
"Dude, don't make it difficult for me, please! I'm not asking you help as Peter Wentz, I'm asking you as a friend"
I looked at him and tried not to be hypnotized from his puppy eyes, even if he didn't want his eyes to be as beautiful as they were now, they were truly beautiful, now. more that ever.
"I'm sorry, Pete but it's your problem now. Solve it by yourself. And if you excuse me. I have to go to the studio for the last recording of the album that you ruined" I pushed him aside, without even care about my callular phone or if I forgotten something I just closed the door behind me and got into the car.
And before I start up the car I looked at him, sitting next to the door and put his suitcase beside him, he tried to warm up with his hands, and attached his head to his legs, hugging them with his cold hands.
I couldn't do anthing to change the situation. I couldn't do anything against my ego.
Peter's POV
I can't beilive I'm standing here, infront of his door, I'm so fucking ashamed! And freezing, oh yeah and on the highway of getting a flu!
I"m really going to ask Ian Watkins help?! I am that desparate.
Well look at yourself, you're more desparate than a kitten who passed the week without a box of tuna!
I knoked on his door. No answear.
Maybe he's not home? Great, just my luck! Ok let's give it another try.
I knocked on the door again. Still no answear.
Maybe he's home but somehow he saw it was me, and he didn't want to open the door.
Ok, last chance, if he's not answearing then it's a sign that I shouldn't be here, and I supposed to use what was left of my money for a plane ticket straight to Ryan's, who suddenly fucking desided to move tenporary to Austerlia because of the band's long concert tour there. Fucking idiots.
I knocked at the third time, and to my surprise someone was there.
"just a second" the voice yelled.
Fuck! Maybe I should go. But if I´ll go then I will take a risk, if Ryan is still at home or that he had already took the flight with his fucking pathetic lover. Brendon.
Someone opened the door and unfortunality it was him. Too late to go back.
He looked at me in a surprising look(from some frikin reasone).
It took me a couple of lame seconds from my life to figur it out but..
F-U-C-K! He's so fucking handsome! He changed so much, he's so much beautiful than the last time I saw him.
God! I'm so ashamed to look at hiim now. He looked great compering to..me!
He was the first to break the 10 seconds ice.
"Peter, what.. what are you doing here?" he stutter! and it made me giggle a little bit inside,puting a little smile on the edge of my lips.
"I'm sorry that i'm disturbing you, Ian, but I really need your help!" it was so foucking difficult to say this words to him after what I did to the band with the album.
"Help?! you need help? Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz is asking for help?! Who died and made you desparate for help?!" don't know why, but his words made trembling inside.
"dude I... please, it was pretty hard for me to come here, so don't make it more difficult."
"I'm sorry to be rude but I can't help you right now, i'm hurry" he said in a cold and apathy way, he tried to close the door, but i stopped it with my hand.
"You don't even know for what I need your help!!"
"I don't really care why, or what is the reason that you need my help, because it doesn't metter! I won't help you!" he was trying to close the door again, but my hand didn't let him, she stopped it again.
"You're still mad at me because of what I did with your album?"
"still mad?? What did you think that we'ill be? Ahh?! It's not some fight we had with you and now it's completed and forgotten!" I looked at him, trying to say that I'm sorry, through my eyes but it didn't really worked, his eyes were so mad as if I killed someone important to him.
"Please! Ian, I'm sorry! Alright I know it was really idiot and stupid, and I wish I could turn the wheel back but I can't so I'm telling you. Right now that I'm sorry"
"You're telling me you're sorry only because you need help! if you were in your normal status, if it can be called noamal at all, then you wouldn't have been here saying you're sorry. because you're not!" he lowered his voice, which practically calmed me down.
"Dude, don't make it difficult for me, please! I'm not asking you help as Peter Wentz, I'm asking you as a friend".
He was now locked in my eyes, I could see his eyes invading into my body, his softly green eyes were looking at me like it isn't Ian who's talking, it's something else in Ian's body who is talking.
"I'm sorry, Pete but it's your problem now. Solve it by yourself. And if you excuse me. I have to go to the studio for the last recording of the album that you ruined" his words felt like a knife in some parts of my body, every word he said was another prick in another dead part of my body, which there was a lot of dead parts, especially the main dead part. My heart!
I wanted to cry but i couldn't cause in any fucking munute journalists from every fucking magazine will come to see the big failure of Peter Wentz..
Author: Stav Hen aka Missteeq14
Bands: Fall out boy/Lostprophets
Pairing: Ian/Pete ; Mike/Jamie
Sumarrey: Pete's life is falling apart, he fought with his band mates and friends, he's stuck in L.A when he's supposed to get back to Chicago, and his cellular phone is out of range... the only person in L.A that he knows is Ian Watkins but there is a little problem.
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone from this story(I wish I had) nothing is true and forgive my english=i suck at writing stories in English.
enjoy!
x-posted in l_prophetslash behindyoursmile
3rd POV
A couple of mintunts before Ian headed to the studio he heard a knock on the door.
He didn't expect anyone, and no one was actually welcome when he was just about to get out.
Meanwhile he was trying to ignore the knocking, and concentrate of how not to forget anything.
After a couple of seconds he heard another knock on the door, still he was trying to ignore and focus on finding his cellular phone, which he couldn't go anywhere without After another couple of seconds the third knock had came.
Ian, who wasn't so calm at the moment, looked at the door desperetly and desided that if it wasn't important and it was someone who know him then he probebly knew that Ian hates being disturbed in the early houres of the morning.
"just a second!" he yelled.
He let go of his small begs, and puted them on the sofa.
He ran quickly to the door to open it, and was surprised of who was standing on his "welcome" snow covered carpet, freezing, hands huging his body trying to warm himself, and from what Ian saw it didn't really helped.
"Peter?" Ian asked confused, for a moment forgeting about the studio or his cellular phone, which didn't happened a lot.
Ian looked at the younger boy, trying to warm himself up.
He was surprised of what he saw.
The basist was covered in snow from his head down to his legs, his beautiful brown eyes were shining through his black eyeliner and turn-aside pony, he wear a short pair of pants, and to his luck he was covered with a coat on his hoodie.
Beside him, stood a big black suitcase, that showed he was probebly on a trip or... something like that.
Ian couldn't be more surprised until the end of the day.
Ian's POV
What the hell?! What the fuck is he doing here?! I wasn't supposed to see him, only on his funeral. After the shit he did to us he belongs to the grave.
Well, at least that's what the other guys would have said if they saw him standing outside of thier house, my opinion isn't so different from thiers, only mine isn't that rideculous and fanatical. She's more in the direction of.. reasonable!
I couldn't imagine that I will see him here in Beverly Hills, standing infront of me, looking so desparate, or maybe it was something else.
"Peter, what.. what are you doing here?" I stutter! and it was really rare because I do it only when i'm in the most high status of nervousness, which happened right...now!
"I'm sorry that i'm disturbing you, Ian, but I really need your help!"
Ok I'm taking back my own words. This day can be more surprising than it already has.
"Help?! you need help? Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz is asking for help?! Who died and made you desparate for help?!" I tried to hide my furios voice who was trying to explode out of my throat
"dude I... please, it was pretty hard for me to come here, so don't make it more difficult."
"I'm sorry to be rude but I can't help you right now, i'm hurry" I said in a cold way(which fit's a lot to the weather) and tried to close the door, but he stopped the door with his hand.
"You don't even know for what I need your help!!"
"I don't really care why, or what is the reason that you need my help, because it doesn't metter! I won't help you!" I tried to close the door again but he opened it with his hand again.
"You're still mad at me because of what I did with your album?"
"still mad?? What did you think that we'ill be? Ahh?! It's not some fight we had with you and now it's completed and forgotten!" he looked at me with his beautiful brown eyes, who were telling me that he's sorry, that somehow he really needs help.
But ofcourse I just couldn't get rid of my inflated ego and I kept looking at him with my angry face.
"Please! Ian, I'm sorry! Alright I know it was really idiot and stupid, and I wish I could turn the wheel back but I can't so I'm telling you. Right now that I'm sorry"
"You're telling me you're sorry only because you need help! if you were in your normal status, if it can be called noamal at all, then you wouldn't have been here saying you're sorry. because you're not!" I lowered my voice a little bit, and unlocked my face from his eyes.
"Dude, don't make it difficult for me, please! I'm not asking you help as Peter Wentz, I'm asking you as a friend"
I looked at him and tried not to be hypnotized from his puppy eyes, even if he didn't want his eyes to be as beautiful as they were now, they were truly beautiful, now. more that ever.
"I'm sorry, Pete but it's your problem now. Solve it by yourself. And if you excuse me. I have to go to the studio for the last recording of the album that you ruined" I pushed him aside, without even care about my callular phone or if I forgotten something I just closed the door behind me and got into the car.
And before I start up the car I looked at him, sitting next to the door and put his suitcase beside him, he tried to warm up with his hands, and attached his head to his legs, hugging them with his cold hands.
I couldn't do anthing to change the situation. I couldn't do anything against my ego.
Peter's POV
I can't beilive I'm standing here, infront of his door, I'm so fucking ashamed! And freezing, oh yeah and on the highway of getting a flu!
I"m really going to ask Ian Watkins help?! I am that desparate.
Well look at yourself, you're more desparate than a kitten who passed the week without a box of tuna!
I knoked on his door. No answear.
Maybe he's not home? Great, just my luck! Ok let's give it another try.
I knocked on the door again. Still no answear.
Maybe he's home but somehow he saw it was me, and he didn't want to open the door.
Ok, last chance, if he's not answearing then it's a sign that I shouldn't be here, and I supposed to use what was left of my money for a plane ticket straight to Ryan's, who suddenly fucking desided to move tenporary to Austerlia because of the band's long concert tour there. Fucking idiots.
I knocked at the third time, and to my surprise someone was there.
"just a second" the voice yelled.
Fuck! Maybe I should go. But if I´ll go then I will take a risk, if Ryan is still at home or that he had already took the flight with his fucking pathetic lover. Brendon.
Someone opened the door and unfortunality it was him. Too late to go back.
He looked at me in a surprising look(from some frikin reasone).
It took me a couple of lame seconds from my life to figur it out but..
F-U-C-K! He's so fucking handsome! He changed so much, he's so much beautiful than the last time I saw him.
God! I'm so ashamed to look at hiim now. He looked great compering to..me!
He was the first to break the 10 seconds ice.
"Peter, what.. what are you doing here?" he stutter! and it made me giggle a little bit inside,puting a little smile on the edge of my lips.
"I'm sorry that i'm disturbing you, Ian, but I really need your help!" it was so foucking difficult to say this words to him after what I did to the band with the album.
"Help?! you need help? Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz is asking for help?! Who died and made you desparate for help?!" don't know why, but his words made trembling inside.
"dude I... please, it was pretty hard for me to come here, so don't make it more difficult."
"I'm sorry to be rude but I can't help you right now, i'm hurry" he said in a cold and apathy way, he tried to close the door, but i stopped it with my hand.
"You don't even know for what I need your help!!"
"I don't really care why, or what is the reason that you need my help, because it doesn't metter! I won't help you!" he was trying to close the door again, but my hand didn't let him, she stopped it again.
"You're still mad at me because of what I did with your album?"
"still mad?? What did you think that we'ill be? Ahh?! It's not some fight we had with you and now it's completed and forgotten!" I looked at him, trying to say that I'm sorry, through my eyes but it didn't really worked, his eyes were so mad as if I killed someone important to him.
"Please! Ian, I'm sorry! Alright I know it was really idiot and stupid, and I wish I could turn the wheel back but I can't so I'm telling you. Right now that I'm sorry"
"You're telling me you're sorry only because you need help! if you were in your normal status, if it can be called noamal at all, then you wouldn't have been here saying you're sorry. because you're not!" he lowered his voice, which practically calmed me down.
"Dude, don't make it difficult for me, please! I'm not asking you help as Peter Wentz, I'm asking you as a friend".
He was now locked in my eyes, I could see his eyes invading into my body, his softly green eyes were looking at me like it isn't Ian who's talking, it's something else in Ian's body who is talking.
"I'm sorry, Pete but it's your problem now. Solve it by yourself. And if you excuse me. I have to go to the studio for the last recording of the album that you ruined" his words felt like a knife in some parts of my body, every word he said was another prick in another dead part of my body, which there was a lot of dead parts, especially the main dead part. My heart!
I wanted to cry but i couldn't cause in any fucking munute journalists from every fucking magazine will come to see the big failure of Peter Wentz..