w.i.p...
Do I have to be a cheerleader? - chapter 9
Finally able to leave school for real, for today, Patrick makes his way back at home, with a confusion of emotions in his head and heart. On one hand there is the “fuck yeah, I’m on top of the world” feeling after the positive reaction during the memorable music lesson, plus the lovely sensation of being finally acknowledged by his schoolmates, including having a new best friend (he should gather the courage to talk to Joe again, speaking of beffies) and a handful of acquaintances; not to mention the fact that he’s in the cheerleading team, for fuck’s sake, whether he likes it or not: he can’t deny that a part of him wanted to succeed. On the other hand there’s the distress for waking up as a girl and the consequent worry of being discovered and how to explain it at least to his family, because they have to know it soon or later.
This last part is getting sooner and sooner the closer Patrick gets to his house, walking cautiously block after block. Once on his door step, he looks around to be sure no one is around and gets inside, closing the door behind him; nobody is at home yet, but he runs upstairs to lock himself in his room anyway, where he can finally slump on the bed with a heavy sigh and think how to explain what the fuck happened without causing the Third World War.
A peccato meo munda me - part 3
A bright voice fills the air: Patrick is once again in the garden, singing while waiting for Pete to arrive. He finds himself blushing thinking back of earlier that morning, when he woke up from the umpteenth dream with the villager and, for the first time, he touched himself. The marks of his own teeth on the left hand are still visible where he bit himself, after he had to shove a hand in the mouth to avoid screaming as the pleasure grew while he pumped himself, at first hesitantly but then more greedily; he rolled his eyes when he came in violent spurts, sighing heavily at the pleasant feeling.
The noise of hooves against stone snaps Patrick out of state, announcing him the coming of the familiar oxcart: Pete is indeed getting off the cart, pretending to pay attention to the pantry attendant monk.
Once the two are done, and Pete has put a series of barrels and boxes on the cart, the brunette walks to the young monk with a shy smile but bright eyes, both reciprocated by Patrick.
Pete looks around and leans closer to the slightly shorter boy, whispering in his ear, “Meet me at the church in half an hour.”
Patrick looks at him leaving, flushing madly for the closeness. For a second he thought Pete was going to kiss him: the young monk has to mentally slap himself for such a sinning thought, the words of his Father Superior still haunting him.
…He has to force himself from running at the church already, he can’t wait for these thirty minutes to pass, he wants to know what’s that meeting for.
NEW (you can find the plots here)
Catwalk (Brendon x Ryan)
Brendon is running hurriedly: he doesn’t want to be late! He’s so glad his school can recommend people to help during fashion shows.
A bit breathless, Brendon is finally in front of the building the fashion show is taking place; some of his schoolmates are already there, looking at him head to toe. Well, yeah, Brendon likes wearing colourful items: red rimmed glasses, a short hot green jacket, plain skin tight jeans and neon yellow shoes. He approaches and greets cheerfully everybody he knows, untouched by the unspoken critics to his outfit or by the many raised eyebrows, he’s used to them.
Shortly after, a cute boy with a folder in his hands calls for the “McAdams” fashion school and invites Brendon and his schoolmates inside, past the fur clothed women and the suit dressed men.
Turn on the left, turn on the right, then again on the right, Brendon is already lost, but the group arrives backstage, where there’re already busy women running around in their high heels and gay hairdresser stealing models from each other. Brendon is a bit overwhelmed, he didn’t expect it to be so hysteric.
“Okay guys,” the cute guy of before, who said his name is Jon, addresses the McAdams students, “thanks for coming, your help is much appreciated.
Folie à deux (Pete x Patrick)
The door of the interrogation room slides open: a short and rather chubby young man, wearing the orange uniform of the prison, sits at the table a bit stooped and puts his handcuffed hands on it. He looks around nervously, stiffening when the door opens again to let a quite tall man in.
“Good morning, Mr Stump. I’m Dr Smith and I’m the psychologist assigned to your case,” the man introduces himself, taking a seat opposite the prisoner, neatly arranging the documents in front of himself.
Stump stares at his psychologist like a defenceless deer, begging for help without saying a word.
If you're wondering if I want you to,I want you to (Jon x Spencer)
“That box doesn’t go there, Ryan, how many times do I have to tell you?”
“Then move all your shit by yourself!”
Turmoil at the campus: it’s the day when the students set their rooms up, and for freshmen it’s even more exciting and stressing.
“Who brought upstairs your fucking prehistoric computer?”
“Hey, I create with that!”
”But you don’t have to be stuck in the 19th century also with the stuff you use! Your clothes are bad enough!”
Glares challenge: Spencer Smith 1- Ryan Ross 0.
“You and your bitch glare, I hate you both,” Ryan scoffs, finally putting the box with all the useless stuff Spencer didn’t want to leave at home in the right corner of the room.
“Oh shut up, you love us,” Spencer answers back, blowing a kiss at his friend, who pretends to grab the kiss and rip it apart.
“Bren, Bren, no, no, on the left! You’re going to knock into the wall! Oh Jesus, stop wobbling in every direction, you’re going to make the two of us fall on the floor! Bren!”
Spencer and Ryan turn their heads to the door, from where they can hear somebody talking agitatedly in the hallway. Soon enough, a dark haired guy wearing a red hoodie enters the room, arms full of a huge box that he’s moving with the help of somebody else, still hidden by said box.
”Jon!” the guy in red whines, “We’re in, please let’s put this box down!”
“Okay, okay,” the other guy huffs, slowly setting the box on the floor.
“Phew! What the hell is in there? Couldn’t you put your shit in separated boxes, like any sane person does?” Red Hood comments with long breaths, leaning against the sofa.
Livejournal user: clandestine (pedo!Pete x Ryan)
The cute boy fell in his trap, and Pete was satisfied.
He found this Ryan dude a few weeks ago, browsing Livejournal, randomly writing interests in the search bar, hoping to find the right person.
And there it was, ”bittersweetdude”, who loved writing poems and lyrics, who swung between bohémienne and skateboarding style, who liked Moulin Rouge and Blink 182,who was cryptic and not too much talkative, who was shy but it didn’t stop him from posting a couple of nice photos of himself.
Pete has never cared of height or weight of his toy-boys: his latest addition to the collection was a short and chubby boy, with strawberry hair and light eyes, dorky but adorable, stubborn but persuadable enough to convince him doing whatever Pete asked him.
Pete took a general view of “bittersweetdude”’s Livejournal page: minimalist theme, dark colors, the same icon for all the entries (something with those Pon&Zi things, if Pete remembers the name right),lack of tags, short posts. Maybe there are some hidden entries?
New perspective (girl!Brendon x Spencer)
“Yeeeeessss,” Brenda breathes out while falling face first on the soft mattress of the bed.
Panic! At The Disco has finally a night off after a long period on the road, touring with the new line-up after Jon and Ryan’s departure to different pastures (of weed) and the revival of the infamous exclamation point.
The new additions Ian and Dallon are sharing a room, while the old guard, Brenda and Spencer, are sharing another. Well, it’s not so different from their not-on-tour life, being them a couple; Brenda would put it more on the fuck-buddies affair, but Spencer is more inclined for the full-blown relationship.
Whatever it is, the two have a lot of quality sex. Whenever, wherever: they definitely can’t complain. Ask Ian, Dallon or the crew, though, they’ll have something to say about.
Spencer looks at Brenda, smirking: “I thought you moaned like that only in bed…”
”Where do you think I am?” Brenda asks muffled by the comforter.
“…with me…” Spencer adds. It’s always been a Brenda’s bad habit, never letting people finish a sentence.
Brenda’s grin gets lost in the soft comforter. She blindly makes grabby hand in the direction of Spencer, who takes it with a sigh and sits on the bed as well, distractedly stroking Brenda’s slender hand with the thumb.
Brenda turns a bit, enough to look at Spencer and speak (and breathe) better; she glances at Spencer: she doesn’t want to admit she’s slowly falling for him, and for good now. She knows it’s stupid, but she’s pretty sure to be the only person to love his adorable nose, especially during the summer when it’s dotted with freckles, even more than his breathtaking cerulean eyes.
“Do you want a photo? Don’t you already have plenty of pics of me?” Spencer asks mockingly, grinning widely. Brenda sticks her tongue out, being her still kind of a child inside.
Outta the closet,kiss in the closet (Jon x Spencer)
Ryan silently ran to his best friend with the intention to jump on Spencer’s back, who was putting some books in the locker.
The skinny kid was hovering in the air, when Spencer suddenly closed the locker and walked off, unaware of his flying friend; only a loud noise of shattering metal made him turn sharply, finally noticing Ryan who had just run into the lockers hitting them with a shoulder, unable to stop himself.
“Dude,” Spencer remarked his friend blankly. Ryan rubbed his lightly throbbing shoulder, grinning widely at Spencer while announcing, “I know his name.”
It made Spencer blush intensely and shoot a hard glare at Ryan, before turning on his heels and heading to class, paying no attention to the calls from his friend.
“Spin! C’mon, I know you want to know it!”
‘I’m gonna kill him,’ Spencer thought, gritting his teeth in an effort to ignore whatever embarrassing shit Ryan was probably going to say. Why had he confessed his best friend about his man crush? He blamed it on the whisky the two boys stole from Ryan’s father’s stock and drank during a boring afternoon.
Pound of flesh (hooker!Pete)
A car stopped in front of him. The person inside opened the window of the passenger seat, and looked at him up and down: short and tonic figure, the tightest pair of grey jeans ever seen, shiny knee-length boots, a small black button up t-shirt that showed tattooed skin.
He leaned against the car, peeking inside to give a seductive glance at the possible new client.
“Like what you see?” he winked, smiling knowingly at the man at the wheel.
The man nodded and leaned forward to open the car door to let the young hooker get in.
“Mine or yours?” the hooker asked, looking at the driver with his tired eyes circled by smeared eyeliner.
“…I know a place," the other man said.
He drove off, and a few turns later, the two arrive in front of an abandoned train deposit; the man switched the engine off and turned to the hooker, who looked at him expectantly.
“Handjob, blowjob or full service?” the hooker asked, repeating his script.
The man gulped, “Full service,” he replied, looking hungrily at the whore.
“All right,” the younger man replied, stepping over the gearshift to move to the backseat. He didn’t notice the driver grabbing a knife together with the condom box from the dashboard.
“No kisses,” the hooker specified while undoing his belt.
“It’s okay,” the client agreed, hiding the knife behind himself and undressing as well.
Queen bee (prostitute!William)
Somebody calls me whore, others escort, others even sweetheart, others don't call me at all.
In any case, that's what I do: I sell my body for money.
I was only sixteen when I started, I practically lived on the streets since when my parents kicked me out because I was a drug-addicted. And a pimp "discovered" me, fascinated by my sharp hips and my feminine figure.
Thanks to him I don't live on the streets anymore, he sort of saved my life in his own way, and the only way I know to pay this debt is to help him make a fortune in this business.
He owns the "Guilty Pleasure", his name is Gabe and he satisfies every sort of client: hetero, gay and lesbians, sadomasochists, dominators and slaves, and many more. You just have to pay and we -whores, escorts, hookers, sweethearts- will take care of you.
Roulette (My Chemical Romance)
Frank was taking a shower, whistling happily while scrubbing his arms with the soapy sponge. After squirting some shampoo on his dark locks, he went under the jet of hot water with closed eyes, not to burn his eyes.
In the darkness behind his closed eyelids, Frank saw a hand with claws moving towards him, catching him by surprise.
The water kept running, rinsing the bubbles away.
Silent Library (Pete x Patrick)
“Grrrr…Fucking Mrs Hudson! She and her fucking literature lessons, she and her fucking books…” Patrick murmurs venomously, kicking the gravel path leading to the library.
Entering the fresh premises of the library is a bit rejuvenating, compared to the hot air of a July afternoon, but that’s not enough to comfort Patrick, who’s stuck at school for the summer additional classes. Mrs Hudson hates him, Patrick is sure of that, she has never helped him nor rewarded his efforts to try to be good in her subject.
Shuffling moodily to the Literature section, Patrick keeps cursing his teacher and plotting revenge against her; he swears he’ll be able to get a good mark and he’ll shove it up her skinny ass.
A… Alcott… A…A…Beckett …where the hell is Austen?
Patrick can’t held a distressed and quite loud cry back, earning some ‘shhh’s from a few customers.
This is definitely not his lucky period.
On the verge of a nervous breakdown, Patrick heads straight to the help desk, apparently deserted.
‘Fuck!’, he hisses, punching the wooden surface.
“Sorry, I’m coming!” a muffled voice comes from under the desk, before someone emerges.
Jet black hair.
Black rimmed glasses.
Tight light green polo shirt.
Tanned and tattooed arms.
“Can I help you?” a smiley, young, hot librarian asks kindly.
The day is getting better.
Sticky-sweet (maybe one sided Pete x Patrick)
“Hey dude, you up for a night out with the guys?” Gabe starts out, without even saying hi.
“Sure, Gaybe. Tell me when and where,” Pete replies after a moment of confusion.
“Tonight at 8 in front of our KFC.”
“Okay then, see ya later. Bye.”
“Bye, my man!”
Pete shakes his head amused.
-
Pete and Brendon get in front of the fast food restaurant first, how strange: they live the farthest but are always on time. Actually the ones who live the farthest are Patrick, Ashlee and especially Gabe, but that’s another story; Victoria, Travis and William are not justifiable, they live at ten minutes (by bus, yeah, okay) from the meeting place.
Finally, ten minutes after the established hour, the whole missing group makes its appearance in front of the KFC, Ashlee and Victoria arm in arm, William is leaning against Travis and Gabe is draped over the two of them.
“Hi, how’re you?”
”Hey dude, how’s it going?”
“Yo, you guys!”
After the typical, repetitive greetings and hugs and kiss on the ladies’ cheeks, the group is ready to head to Gabe’s brother’s pizzeria.
Undisclosed desires (Vicky-T x Cassadee x Sierra)
FROM: Vicky-T
TO: Cassadee
Cobra bus in 5. Bring you know what. X
Cassadee’s eyes lightened at the message, she was shaking in excitement. Like a busy bee, she flew to her bunk and started rummaging under the mattress, finally fishing what she was looking for and that she hid a looong time ago waiting for that chance. She literally ran out of the Hey Monday’s bus.
-
FROM: Vicky-T
TO: Sierra
Cobra bus in 5. Bring you know what. X
Sierra smirked. It was finally the moment. She headed straight to the hidden spot in the lounge and grabbed her stuff, walking fast out of the Versaemerge bus, past the questioning looks of her bandmates.
-
Cobra Starship, Hey Monday and Versaemerge were on tour together: three girls vs. twelve boys. What the hell? Some female complicity was needed.
What have you done? (mysterious rapist)
A visibly shaken guy entered the Emergency Room, with heavy tears falling down his cheeks and a little of blood on the back of his trousers.
“Help,” he whispered, shuffling with some effort to the help desk, fainting half way.
-
“A rapist frightens the college community. We suggest you to be very careful, especially at night, and never be alone.”
He threw the newspaper on the coffee table, smirking knowingly.