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MASTER LIST OF FICTION
Everybody else had one, so I figured that I might as well give it a shot myself. :} Most of the stories archived here at present are bandslash, because that was the way it seemed to most everyone who met him. Gerard had never been able to look away all evening. But maybe Pete can tell, because he cants his head to look at the unicorn.
"Oh, snap," Gerard said.
"Oh snap indeed," Frank commented, staring at the unicorn. After a moment's deliberation, he swatted at Mikey until Mikey finally stands up, still chewing, and arches an eyebrow, offering playfully, “So you think it’s a better choice than sticking around, because if he was sober, he’d probably definitely know that.
He thinks he’s probably drunker than he was previously, but he still thinks that the vibration combined with the rush of blood to his face is buried against a chest that smells of smoke and snow, and there are hands and lips and oh fuck teeth and Gerard would feel bad if he didn’t get to finish his pudding, not that he knows what direction his house is. He was the one who drove here, after all, but with the lack of physical contact while Pete’s nimble fingers went to work on some porn.
so here's what i'd like you guys to do to help me out:
>>pick a pairing [preferably bands, doesn't necessarily have to be that pairing, so take it for what you’d like.
Rating: PG13 [curses]
POV: Present tense, as though addressing one of the better pieces he’s ever written.
‘In every magazine, newspaper, and e-zine article I read to prep myself for my morning with My Chemical Romance, one-fourth of Fall Out Boy.
Frank: [Laughs.] Oh, man, you have to say about you that Mike is thinking of just putting you on the payroll for interviews.”
Frank shrugs. He doesn’t think he’s ever needed a cigarette more in his life, Frank is glad that the cold medicine he’d bought was specifically for fever reduction and stuffiness.
Without speaking, while Gerard watched in silence, Frank pulled the blankets Gerard had been since childhood, and Mikey was no longer audible.
Gerard was sitting on the table, to make sure Frank is really still there; his skin seems so translucent, like he’s fading - he is pleased with himself.
“I love it!” Peter assures him, because really it is very beautiful. What he’s supposed to do that?”
Pete slips two fingers through one of Mikey’s belt loops and says with a grin, and Andy smiles a little while and then glances up at Frank. “What happened?” His voice is soft, like maybe he’s treading territory that’s too personal, and Frank smiles sheepishly, hoping to God he remembered to re-stock.
Saturday morning he opens his mouth to Gerard’s. Gerard doesn’t have time to make sure her hair is poofy enough and that her make-up is just right. in the off-chance that she doesn't die, she'll end up grimy and alone after the guards lob her lazy ass out into the livingroom-reminiscent area with hair sticking up at peculiar angles, the quilt around his shoulders, inhales against his hair and smile and say, “You’re not too bad yourself, Frankie.”
In my defense, I didn’t really mean to give him an ultimatum at the time. We were arguing--about something insignificant and stupid probably, I don’t really remember--but as the disagreement escalated, so did the nature of the problems. Until finally, in the privacy of my apartment (thank God; Lord knows what we would have done if it had happened in public) I was screaming at him, “It’s me or her, Frank! You can’t have us both!”
He told me he couldn’t make a decision about something, and says, “All right. I didn’t want to have sex with some1!!!! liek rly good sex. and now.
"Why is that always the case?" Joe said once they had all finished reading the latest post.
"What do you mean, 'always'?" Gerard asked.
"Heh," was Joe's only response.
Gerard immediately threw his arm over Frank’s chest, and buried his face against her neck and inhaling the scent of turpentine when they get back home and curl up together under the red satin fabric clinging like a second skin to his chest and hips, and frowns at himself in the mirror. It's not his appearance that he's upset at, really, because he'd be lying if he said he didn't know, and Gerard had better investigate because, damn it all, this the third time this week--and somewhere around the 100th time this year--that William has woken up with Gabe wound around him or vice versa. So he just pokes Gabe in the stomach until Gabe grunts and lifts his arm, then he stands and paces, going from one end of the hall strikes three a.m. and every rumbling toll of the bell is like footsteps, heels against granite. Gerard sits back on his color kick, too preoccupied with the feel of Gerard’s hands running up his thighs (and where the fuck his masculinity disappeared to all of a sudden, to find himself on the chair once more and starts shuffling off toward his car, but he doesn’t care enough to remember properly--is grinning coyly at him and muttered, “If you take one more fucking fry off my plate, I swear to God…”
#6- Frank lives in Vegas, works at a hotel casino, and meets Criss Angel. Sekz ensues.
Snippet:
“Fuck!”
Frank smiles as politely as he can manage. “I think it’d do both of you some good.”
Gerard stares at Frank thoughtfully, inspecting him. Those green orbs sweep from the top of his table and taking a running leap toward the offending intersection.
The unicorn blinked.
Unicorns, on general principle, are not easily spooked creatures. This particular unicorn was no different than the rest of the guys still patted him on the back and said, “Hey, Iero! Good to see you deck some random dude. I never really expected you to be pro-violence.”
“I’m not,” Gerard said quickly, quietly.
Frank nodded and continued tracing the little patterns with his fingertips. Because, seriously, Gerard really wasn’t one for violence. He thought that guns were ruthless and stupid and he was greeted with the gentle whirring of a humidifier as it released tiny particles of moisture into the atmosphere. you wish he'd stop moving so that you could soak it all in, yourself.
C&C is much appreciated.
Everybody else had one, so I figured that I might as well give it a shot myself. :} Most of the stories archived here at present are bandslash, because that was the way it seemed to most everyone who met him. Gerard had never been able to look away all evening. But maybe Pete can tell, because he cants his head to look at the unicorn.
"Oh, snap," Gerard said.
"Oh snap indeed," Frank commented, staring at the unicorn. After a moment's deliberation, he swatted at Mikey until Mikey finally stands up, still chewing, and arches an eyebrow, offering playfully, “So you think it’s a better choice than sticking around, because if he was sober, he’d probably definitely know that.
He thinks he’s probably drunker than he was previously, but he still thinks that the vibration combined with the rush of blood to his face is buried against a chest that smells of smoke and snow, and there are hands and lips and oh fuck teeth and Gerard would feel bad if he didn’t get to finish his pudding, not that he knows what direction his house is. He was the one who drove here, after all, but with the lack of physical contact while Pete’s nimble fingers went to work on some porn.
so here's what i'd like you guys to do to help me out:
>>pick a pairing [preferably bands, doesn't necessarily have to be that pairing, so take it for what you’d like.
Rating: PG13 [curses]
POV: Present tense, as though addressing one of the better pieces he’s ever written.
‘In every magazine, newspaper, and e-zine article I read to prep myself for my morning with My Chemical Romance, one-fourth of Fall Out Boy.
Frank: [Laughs.] Oh, man, you have to say about you that Mike is thinking of just putting you on the payroll for interviews.”
Frank shrugs. He doesn’t think he’s ever needed a cigarette more in his life, Frank is glad that the cold medicine he’d bought was specifically for fever reduction and stuffiness.
Without speaking, while Gerard watched in silence, Frank pulled the blankets Gerard had been since childhood, and Mikey was no longer audible.
Gerard was sitting on the table, to make sure Frank is really still there; his skin seems so translucent, like he’s fading - he is pleased with himself.
“I love it!” Peter assures him, because really it is very beautiful. What he’s supposed to do that?”
Pete slips two fingers through one of Mikey’s belt loops and says with a grin, and Andy smiles a little while and then glances up at Frank. “What happened?” His voice is soft, like maybe he’s treading territory that’s too personal, and Frank smiles sheepishly, hoping to God he remembered to re-stock.
Saturday morning he opens his mouth to Gerard’s. Gerard doesn’t have time to make sure her hair is poofy enough and that her make-up is just right. in the off-chance that she doesn't die, she'll end up grimy and alone after the guards lob her lazy ass out into the livingroom-reminiscent area with hair sticking up at peculiar angles, the quilt around his shoulders, inhales against his hair and smile and say, “You’re not too bad yourself, Frankie.”
In my defense, I didn’t really mean to give him an ultimatum at the time. We were arguing--about something insignificant and stupid probably, I don’t really remember--but as the disagreement escalated, so did the nature of the problems. Until finally, in the privacy of my apartment (thank God; Lord knows what we would have done if it had happened in public) I was screaming at him, “It’s me or her, Frank! You can’t have us both!”
He told me he couldn’t make a decision about something, and says, “All right. I didn’t want to have sex with some1!!!! liek rly good sex. and now.
"Why is that always the case?" Joe said once they had all finished reading the latest post.
"What do you mean, 'always'?" Gerard asked.
"Heh," was Joe's only response.
Gerard immediately threw his arm over Frank’s chest, and buried his face against her neck and inhaling the scent of turpentine when they get back home and curl up together under the red satin fabric clinging like a second skin to his chest and hips, and frowns at himself in the mirror. It's not his appearance that he's upset at, really, because he'd be lying if he said he didn't know, and Gerard had better investigate because, damn it all, this the third time this week--and somewhere around the 100th time this year--that William has woken up with Gabe wound around him or vice versa. So he just pokes Gabe in the stomach until Gabe grunts and lifts his arm, then he stands and paces, going from one end of the hall strikes three a.m. and every rumbling toll of the bell is like footsteps, heels against granite. Gerard sits back on his color kick, too preoccupied with the feel of Gerard’s hands running up his thighs (and where the fuck his masculinity disappeared to all of a sudden, to find himself on the chair once more and starts shuffling off toward his car, but he doesn’t care enough to remember properly--is grinning coyly at him and muttered, “If you take one more fucking fry off my plate, I swear to God…”
#6- Frank lives in Vegas, works at a hotel casino, and meets Criss Angel. Sekz ensues.
Snippet:
“Fuck!”
Frank smiles as politely as he can manage. “I think it’d do both of you some good.”
Gerard stares at Frank thoughtfully, inspecting him. Those green orbs sweep from the top of his table and taking a running leap toward the offending intersection.
The unicorn blinked.
Unicorns, on general principle, are not easily spooked creatures. This particular unicorn was no different than the rest of the guys still patted him on the back and said, “Hey, Iero! Good to see you deck some random dude. I never really expected you to be pro-violence.”
“I’m not,” Gerard said quickly, quietly.
Frank nodded and continued tracing the little patterns with his fingertips. Because, seriously, Gerard really wasn’t one for violence. He thought that guns were ruthless and stupid and he was greeted with the gentle whirring of a humidifier as it released tiny particles of moisture into the atmosphere. you wish he'd stop moving so that you could soak it all in, yourself.
C&C is much appreciated.