[FIC] Shuffle Fics

[riastarstruck]

Title: 6 Random Shuffle Fics
Author:  RiaStarStruck (me!)
Rating: R
Pairing: VAM, Bam/other, imag. Ville/Others
Summary: Just six shuffle fics, a range of stories and styles so cant explain!
Disclaimer: nope, none of the characters are mine, just the order of the words.
Warnings: slash (duh.)  Imagined Ville/Other, Bam/Other, angsty (It’s me, what do you expect?)
Authors Notes: yeah, so I was bored, depressed, and NOT wanting to do this mega important book report because I hate the world. Lol, that’s my rant.
I scored lucky on this one because my ipod is crap and gets crap on certain bands sometimes, lol I was so lucky it got stuck on HIM not my (impressive) Billy Idol collection. So, read, enjoy and comment because I need love!


1. HIM- Nightside of Eden
(WARNING: contains Ville/Linde sexy times.)

He imagined them in guilty black moments of the night, let his mind wander to visions of them entwined, their willowy limbs as pale as moonlight locked around each other joined him in his bed as he pictured in the haze of desire as a pale blond head rested beside the chaos of dark curls on pillows that smelt of his own sweat and soap. He would watch as slender hands musicians hands, wandered over pale skin and mapped their progress on his own body.

Some nights when the cold clung to the windows and rattled its frames, he imagined them in the northern graveyards they so suited, all pagan symbols and weeping angels as naked bodies stretched across grey stone and long fingers clawed at smoothed marble edges. He imagined how beautiful they would be, how fucked up.

Sometimes his night visioned joined him when he was out of the shadows and he would blush and squirm, body hot like fire and the visions of them together in seedy backrooms tantalised him. Their hands desperate and clumsy, bodies half clothed as they pulled and pushed each other against grimy walls in a frenzy of sensation the million images assaulting him in the second it took for their faces to disappear behind scratched bar room doors.

In the darkest nights, when no light lit the sky and shadows were his only companion he imagined them laid out naked on endless blood coloured sheets of silk. Bodies wrapped around each other in the most intimate way, eyes wide and watching; lips glistening with moisture in the golden light. A feast for the gods, open and willing to be consumed, devoured, torn from this mundane world which has trapped them and returned to the very peaks of euphoria where they belonged.
As he wiped the slickness from his body and closed his eyes around glassy blue he ignored how desperately he wanted to be that god, to take the wanton sacrifice and claim it for his own.

Sometimes he thought they might know; that they saw his secret thoughts as though they were written plain across his face. Green eyes would watch him with a wicked sparkle as he leant close to whisper in Linde’s ear. Together they would turn to face him, unblinking gazes like twin statues, bodies close and eyes watchful and then he was the one naked and exposed to the world for an earth shattering second before he turned and walked away with shuddering breath and fire trails across his skin.
Sometimes Ville would watch him, eyes lingering heavily in the last moments before the door closed with an echoing whispered click.

2. Jeff Buckley -Hallelujah

Bam gets angry, but Ville becomes cruel.
Bam forgets that the quiet beautiful man who lights up his life, bringing colour into his world and makes him feel more alive than anybody else ever could, that he will take only so much of his crap before he snaps; can only take so much heartbreak before he can’t stand anymore. Unlike all his other friends Ville won’t just break some furniture and scream and shout; his anger will build to fury and his cruelty can make the worst of Bam's rages look like childish tantrums. Ville will break him, humiliate him and make sure his world is unalterably changed.
Bam forgets all this, and it comes as a surprise when Ville grabs him by his hair and his knees make sharp contact with the hard ground. He struggled against the firm grip on his hair hating himself for the thrill of arousal that shoots through him at the familiar movement even now, when Ville's eyes are dark with anger and hurt and Missy is looking on in shock, a delicate manicured hand in front of her surprised mouth.
Ville forces Bam's face against his clothed crotch. He was hard and Bam didn’t want to think what he could possibly be getting out of this.  He tried to jerk back but Ville just tightened his hold on his curls until his eyes watered with the pain.
“Come on Bam, it’s not like this is the first time you’ve been on your knees for me.” Ville's voice was thick with his accent as he spat the words at him. Bam was glad he couldn’t see Missy’s face, that she couldn’t see the confirmation in his eyes.
Ville forced him forward again, grinding his face against his crotch roughly and Bam shoved Ville away knocking him off balance ignoring the painful pull on his hair.
“The fuck Ville?” his own anger was growing now that the shock had worn off. Ville was sneering down at him and he shoved him again trying to get as far away as he could. Ville’s face twisted into a sick smile.
“Yeah, that’s it Bammie.” He spat the nickname mockingly making Bam shiver. “I love it when you’re angry, like a fucking spitfire on my dick. You’re just so pretty when you’re mad.” Bam stumbled to his feet. Hands shaking and his mind a confusing cloud of hurt, shock, anger and arousal.
He looked towards Missy, wishing desperately that she would disappear, simply vanish so none of this would be happening and he could return to his usual world where she was his wife who loved him and knew nothing of how terribly and absolutely he loved Ville, on bent knees and in stolen moments.
Ville was hurt and scared, scared of losing Bam to the pretty beard that shared his bed. Bam wanted to reassure him, to hold him in his arms and kiss the doubt away. He wanted to fall to his knees willingly and show him how much he craved him, how much he worshipped him.
“Bam...?” Missy was talking now, wide eyed and cheeks pale. Bam hated her for having the right to ask, for having the right to question what the fuck was going on.
“Yeah Bam.” Ville mocked, his beautiful voice that whispered sweet nothings in Bam's ear; that screamed how much he loved him and sang songs that changed his whole world entirely; now twisted and cruel. “Aren’t man and wife supposed to share everything? you should be sharing me just like a whore! I’d fuck her for you. Bet she’s a screamer; be she’s a real slut for it.” Missy looked outraged, shocked at this twist of the usually charming gentlemanly Fin. Ville moved close and laid a violent biting kiss on Bam's lips, drawing blood which smeared in a pale pink sheen across his chin. “Just like you.”
Ville turned on his heel and stalked out the room. Bam wanted to follow, to let him take out his hurt and anger on him then tell him a hundred times over how much he loved him, how much he needed him.
Missy moved forward and Bam knew she’d never let him chase after Ville.
He tried not to show the pain he felt when the door slammed behind the man he loved, the reverberations shattering his heart and destroying all the hope and happiness in the world. He turned to his wife, flicking his tongue over the bleeding cut on his lip rolling the metallic blood across his tastebuds and knew he’d never feel alive again.

3. HIM- Love in Cold Blood

He wondered if his legs could be considered serpentine.
It wasn’t an all consuming curiosity; it was more of an idle thought that drifted through his mind at various unexpected moments. His curiosity about it wasn’t the problem, all people were curious about strange things; it was human nature after all. If it wasn’t this it would have been something else, something far duller perhaps, like tire-rubber or woman’s make up.

No, the problem was the next step in the human psyche, it was the thoughts that came after which were the issue. It started out simply, as all terrible things seem to, like imagining snakes for legs, snakes around legs, snakes around slender male waists, snakes around that same waist ink stained with jutting hipbones. Then it progressed even further, until snakes had nothing to do with it anymore. He imagining how it would look, his own legs wrapped around Ville’s thin waist, his tanned limbs wrapped tight around pale tattooed flesh. That of course made him wonder how it would feel to have that bony body within his grasp, limbs locked around him and bodies pressed impossibly close. He wondered if his legs would become serpentine then. Wondered if instinct would take over and some innate force would consume him and their bodies would entwine around each other like snakes and vines, vines and snakes tangled in a mess of tanned and pale, swirling inked flesh pressed close and dark hair tangling together.

It wasn’t a well thought out plan to ask Ville to clarify his lyrics; Bam wasn’t really one to think things through once an impulse took over. Ville had raised a brow and murmured something about symbolism and metaphor, Bam nodded and hoped that would be enough to quench his terrible curiosity.
It wasn’t.
On impulse he called half way across the world at one in the morning and asked what he had been thinking about when he wrote the lyrics. Ville had huffed down the phone and lit a cigarette. “Love, sex...” Bam’s mind went blank, sex. The entwined limbs of his imagination became something else suddenly, something more. Now the close press of the bodies took on a new stranger angle, the limbs locked suggested positions and penetration.
He’d known of course the images were by nature sexual, but somewhere amidst the wondering and the imagining the sexual edge had disappeared and it had taken on a purely aesthetic and then tactile interest. It hadn’t been sexy.   
His cheeks flushed, his hands were suddenly damp and his chest became tight. He hung up quickly ignoring Ville’s voice asking him what was wrong. His mind swam with a thousand idle images that now took on a magnitude and importance which smothered him until he fell onto his bed and the sheets wrapped around his bare legs like snakes and he let his curiosity consume him.

4. Death Cab for Cutie- Grapevine Fires

The sky was glowing orange. Plumes of bluey grey smoke drifted up and becoming tangled in the dirty orange as they were swept across the canvas of the sky by the wind.
He felt a hand in his own, larger than his with calluses on its fingertips. It was strange to be holding a hand that was bigger, a man’s hand.
In the distance he could hear the crackle and cracks of trees being consumed by flames. They watched in silence as a line of fire moved across the hills in the distance, wind edging it across the hills and slowly closing in. He could taste the smoke in his throat and it burned his eyes and nostrils unpleasantly. Ville pulled away and moved towards the car which was parked haphazardly across the cemetery path to change the station. Bam watched silently as the strange foreign teen he’d only just met swayed through the gravestones in time with the music which came crackled and half muffled from the car speakers.
The grass beneath Ville's bare feet was dry and burnt yellow with patches worn away to dusty brown earth in places. He watched as he sang along with the music, his deep baritone more beautiful and hypnotising then the singers and he danced through the field of graves on nimble feet and swaying hips. Bam found himself inexplicably comforted by the teen, glad he wasn’t facing the flames that surrounded them alone.
“What do you do back home?”Ville paused mid swirl and smiled at him.
“I’m in a band.” He trailed his fingers across a head stone lazily.
“Yeah? What kinda music you play?” Bam imagined him on stage, playing his audience as though they by magic, weaving magic around them and hypnotising them. Ville grinned and blushed.
“Love Metal.” He purred and Bam smiled. He liked it.
Ville was in front of him, tall and thin and pale, with wide green eyes and pouty coral lips framed with short messy chocolate brown curls. They’d only met a couple of hours earlier by chance, both running to the open field of the cemetery on a hill, hopefully safe from the fires that spread out in all directions around them. Leaving charred trees like matchsticks behind the glowing golden lines of fire.
“Why so serious Bammie?” Bam's eyes instinctively shifted to the fire slowly drawing closer and Ville followed his gaze before turning abruptly back and clasping Bam's hands, drawing them around his own waist. “What better time to dance and have fun?” Bam had never danced with a guy before, and it was as strange as holding his hand. But for some reason he just could make himself care, it just seemed right with this strange beautiful foreigner. Ville flicked a loose curl out of his face with a jerk of his head and Bam wondered what he would look like with long hair.
“I think Bam...” Ville murmured as they danced in place, a slow dance completely at odds with the music playing from the car. They watched together as they moved the plumes of smoke and lines of fire dance its own way across the country. “...That we should live every moment like it’s our last, do whatever we want, because look how close this moments looks like our last.” Bam nodded and Ville smiled.
Bam had never kissed a man before, he’d only kissed a few girls, and his memories of them were sticky lips, sweet breath and soft lips. Kissing Ville was unlike anything he’d ever done. Their bodies pressed close, their hands moved from holding to caressing, he tangled his fingers in Ville's hair and wished it was longer. Ville tasted like red liquorish and the smoke from the fires, Bam had never tasted anything better.
They drowned there, in the shadow of the orange smoke in a paradise of their own creation, a paradise where the sky was the colour of hell fire and the ground was like crushed gold under their bare feet.

Four years later Bam woke with a gasp. His eyes burned from the smoked that wasn’t there and his exposed body was chilled in a way he never was in his memories.
Four weeks ago he’d flown to Finland for a skate comp. Four weeks ago he was tearing through an in-flight magazine with hurried clumsy speed, tearing pages under Ryan’s amused gaze as he searched desperately for the three words the cover had promised : ‘Love, Metal, Ville.’ And then he found it, one page, one photo and he couldn’t look away.
Jenn rolled over in bed, her manicured hand trailing up his naked chest.
“What do you dream about?” They’d had this conversation before and each time he answered the same way, he didn’t know why she persisted.
“I never remember my dreams.” She hummed and kissed him.
She asked him again the next night, his body loose and pliant from his orgasm and his breath still coming out in heavy pants as his eyes began to droop. “What do you dream about?” As though knowing would help her know him better, know him best.
“You know I never remember my dreams.” He murmured before rolling over and dreamt, as he always did, of a place where the sky was orange and blue and the earth was crushed gold. Ville was waiting there for him there, as he always was, and they danced and watched as the crimson and gold lines of fire made their way across the country, it seemed like nothing could survive.

In a crowded club in London Bam held Ryan’s hand despite the larger mans protests as he watched the boy from his dreams and memories dance before him, finally real again. He’d grown his hair long.
Bam had searched for the other teen after they’d been rescued the next day in the chaos of rescue and hospitals and interviews they’d lost each other. The fires still burnt along the country side as he’d asked everyone he could and searched everywhere he was allowed, but with no last name Ville had simply disappeared.
He pushed his way backstage, flashing his MTv ID as though it meant something. Down the dark corridor and through the open door he didn’t breath.
The door closed with a thud behind them and Ryan’s hand dropped from his numb fingers as he couldn’t look away from the man in front of him. Ville glanced up at the intrusion, he stilled, stopping mid sentence and just staring at Bam for what felt like forever.
“Bam.”
“Ville.” They moved towards each other.
“You grew a beard!” he sounded delighted by the fact and Bam saw his fingers holding his cigarette twitch as though he wanted to touch it.
“You grew your hair.” Bam wanted to run his fingers through the long locks like he’d dreamt of doing.
“You two know each other?” Ryan managed to sound both sarcastic and curious, he hated not knowing things, particularly about the open and transparent Bam.
“We almost died together.” Ville didn’t look away from Bam as he spoke, as though he would disappear if he took his eyes off him. Bam knew the feeling. Ville’s eyes trailed to the MTv ID around Bam's neck. “MTv?” he questioned and Bam grinned, shrugging faux-causally.
“Living every moment.” Ville grinned and Bam pulled him closer, their arms wrapped around each other and Bam felt like he was whole again. Ville tasted like toffee and cigarette smoke and Bam had never tasted anything better.
“They ignored the shock of their friends and band mates as the crowded room melted away to their own paradise, the colour of hellfire.

5. Deftones- Changes in the House of Flies

He didn’t know how he got there, how he lost everything he had worked so hard for, given his entire life for. All lost to law suits and legal work he didn’t even understand. He ended up with an empty, hollow castle, compassion in his friends’ eyes and as a pitiful echo of himself.
He ran away, he was good at that. He squandered his last dollars he had on drinks and a sleazy strip club until he couldn’t sink any lower on the moral scale. He passed out in a sex club in North London, as far away as he could afford with money his last scraps of money and the cash he stole from Aprils wallet like he was sixteen again.
That’s where Ville found him, a year absent from his life a blurred memory of a fight and fists thrown Bam's only knowledge for the painful absence of his friend.
Ville didn’t rescue him from his own dark oblivion, didn’t sweep him off his feet like a princess in some fairytale that needed saving. He took Bam by the hand and led him further down the glittering spiral, into the darkness and decay. The place he had hidden since he was pushed out all those months ago. Ville was a changed man.

Bam fucked some woman against the dirty wall of some back lane, Ville's choosing. Her makeup caked around a face not as young as it used to be, her hair matted and bleached blond falling in greasy clumps in front of her vacant dead eyes. She looked away from him as he fucked her, closed her eyes and grunted and groaned shifting her hips to get him where she wanted him. Ville pressed close from behind, his breath on Bam's neck as he murmured intangible filth against his skin. He shuddered and leant back, letting Ville guide his hips until he felt like a toy, a plastic tool for lovers to use. She came with a shuddered gasp which sounded like a baby drowning and Ville growled for him to come. He didn’t want to think about how he did on command.
She left and Bam felt sick. A smear of her crimson lipstick on his cheek and the sheen of Ville's Vaseline on his neck. Ville pressed him against the grubby wall, hands thin and skeletal closing him in and Bam felt how hard he was against his thigh when he pushed it between Ville's legs, he pressed closer just to see Ville’s lashes flutter. He felt dirty and tired, he smelt of sex and garbage and realised for the first time that he hated his life and that this oblivion that Ville offered, with all its festering decay and grimy depravity was far better then what he was leaving behind.
Ville pushed forward against him, grinding himself off against Bam's thigh and Bam revelled in the closeness, the heat and rough treatment. It was the first time he had felt close to someone in months, it was the first time someone dared to hold him and he hadn’t realised how much he had missed the contact.
“This is only the first layer; don’t you want to see how deep it goes?” Ville's voice was thick, his accent heavy and metallic in Bam's ears and all he could bring himself to do was nod against the hair in his face and press sloppy, open mouthed kisses against him when Ville claimed his mouth to silence his own groans. Ville wasn’t black and white; he was silver and charcoal, blood red and unfathomable shades of gold and brown. If this was only the first layer he wondered how many more there were to go before he was unrecognisable from the creature he once was, he wondered how many more layer he would be led down until even Novak wouldn’t recognise him amidst the sex and sleaze of this new world.
Ville led him by the hand and he went willingly.

6.  HIM- In Love and Lonely

The purple blue haze settled around Ville, soft and warm. He felt it filling his lungs like cotton candy, filling his body and mind and he felt like he was flying. In the fog of his thoughts he swore he could see the shadowed figure of Death perched in the doorway, across the room the weeping figure of Love sat huddled in on himself arms tight around his chest and hair across his vision, blinding him to the heartache of others. Always spreading love, but always lonely.
 As he sat swallowed up by the coloured clouds he wondered at Love’s sadness, his thin body curled tight and the despair in his eyes as he glanced at the unmoving figure in black at the door.
His hands would be cold, Ville thought absently, trailing his own hands down his concave stomach, cold and calloused as they caress Loves sweet flesh, spreading supple thighs and pushing close. What a pair they would make, the contrasts of Death and Love, the smothering heat of Loves flesh surrounding the chilling cold of Deaths own embrace.
As his eyes rolled back and his skin was electrified by his own touch he imagined them, standing entwined together, the eternal struggle. Love would surrender to the temptation, and live for those too brief moments in an ecstasy of tortured love, sex want and idolatry, and then they would part, as they always must. And Loves heart would grow a little colder in the absence of his chilled lover, this skin would grow harder as the sadness descended and lovers across the world would weep, as they realise how blind they had been, as their hearts are broken into a million tiny pieces like the shards of Loves own.
Death would weep from the sidelines, the shadows obscuring his torment as he watched his lover break again, an eternity of their endless dance and his heart would shatter and crumble like the sands in his hourglass as he had to turn away to the darkness of the night where he belonged.

Ville felt stinging salt tears roll down his cheeks as he turned his gaze away from the doorway, a pain in his heart he didn’t want to examine. He saw Death take Love by the hand and leave the room; he wheezed for breath and closed his eyes, concentrating on the last wisps of cotton candy air.
He didn’t notice the shadowed blue eyes that watched from the partially open doorway, tears like ash in his eyes.

A/N Please comment! because comments are love!