Fic: I Dream
Right here is the next part. I neglected to mention something in the last post. This story will alternate POV between Ville and Bam, each chapter is from one of the boys, and it alternates. This one is Ville.
Title: I Dream
Rating: From PG to NC-17
Author: V-Gin (Yeah like anyone but me would want to claim to have written this. Bwahahaha!)
Warnings: This is AU, Bam and Ville never met in my little world. And their is some het-groaping and thoughts going on here. Just close your eyes at those parts and repeat to yourself 'She is going to make it all better later in the story.' Also this is not Beta-ed, cause I am evil, do you here me! EVIL!
Summery: Ville Valo lead singer of the Finnish band HIM is being haunted. (I know crap summery, couldn't think of anything else to say)
Disclaimer: I own nothing but a bunch of CD's and a soon-to-be-purchased selection of DVD's featuring the boys, I actually know nothing of their private lives.
Prologue
Part 1
Ville had never been one who went for things with a half assed approach. If he was going to do something he was going to do it with all that he had. It was this attitude that had gotten him through to where he was now, with his hand up some nameless sluts shirt, wondering what it was that he was trying to prove and to whom he was trying to prove it to.
He briefly considered re-considering his wholehearted approach to things, then he considered getting another Beer, but decided against that because the girl he was kissing already tasted strongly of cheep beer, so maybe he should start in on Vodka shots. The girl clung to him, one of her hands pulling and tugging on his hair, trying to direct him to where she wanted him to go, while the other hand glided over his back, the light touches annoying him more then enticing. What he really needed was someone stable in his life, someone not involved in the band, and above all someone who wouldn’t be fucking him just because he was a singer in said band. He wasn’t sure that was possible though. He wanted to laugh at his maudlin thoughts; perhaps for tonight he had drunk enough. Or it was possible he just hadn’t had enough to drink.
He massaged the obviously fake breast in his hand and grimaced slightly, breaking the kiss. He bent his head down further and began biting her neck, shoving his other hand down the back of her skirt, wincing as the leather of the belt she had on dug into the back of his wrist, and absently observing that he should have just gone in from the other direction of her short, short skirt, as it would have been faster and less of a tight squeeze, but as it was too late now, he simply made due and continued with his disinterested groping of her ass. Fuck he wanted a cigarette.
He paused in his ministrations as he heard some drunken prick’s declaration that he was going to sit in the ‘Haunted Chair’. Ville smiled against the girl’s neck, this should be fun, it had been a while since someone had attempted to sit in his ghost’s seat. He disengaged himself from the girl and turned to watch, now happily otherwise occupied, with lighting a cigarette, grabbing a half finished bottle of beer from a table, and completely ignoring her protests.
It had been a few months after the band had grudgingly admitted that the ghost had it’s own chair that Ville had begun to call the ghost his, with the same sort of affection that one would call a cat their own. The entire band had been followed by the apparition, both as a whole and separately, and while it had initially creeped them out they now referred to it as their number one fan. Ville had noticed that it seemed to follow him more then it did the others, going so far as to shove him back out of the way of a large truck he had blindly been walking out in front of while he scribbled down ideas for a new song on a scrap of paper from his pocket and trying to open a new pack of cigarettes at the same time. It really felt like he had someone looking out for him, and that was simply great.
Ville frowned at the man as he flopped down into the chair, causing it to creak and groan under his sudden weight, the glass of beer in his hand sloshing uneasily, a swallow or two spilling out and landing on the splintery arm, then dripping on to the man’s leg, and from there to the seat of the chair. Ville frowned, growing slightly worried, no one had ever spilled on the chair before, he wasn’t sure how protective his ghost was.
A strange chill ran up his spine and Ville found himself moving quickly, grabbing the drunken idiot, and pulling him out of the chair just as it scraped its way across the floor to slam into the wall hard enough to send all the framed pictures on it crashing to the floor, save for the one that dropped onto the chair itself, its glass shattering as it met with the back of the chair, slivers and shards raining down on the seat and floor below.
The silence of the room was only magnified by the music pumping out of the sound system, the sudden lack of incessant chatter almost more deafening then the pounding base-beat. “I think it is time everyone left.” Ville said releasing his hold on the man, and sending ‘we have to talk’ looks to his band mates. The room emptied quickly and quietly, and soon all that was left were the five men.
Title: I Dream
Rating: From PG to NC-17
Author: V-Gin (Yeah like anyone but me would want to claim to have written this. Bwahahaha!)
Warnings: This is AU, Bam and Ville never met in my little world. And their is some het-groaping and thoughts going on here. Just close your eyes at those parts and repeat to yourself 'She is going to make it all better later in the story.' Also this is not Beta-ed, cause I am evil, do you here me! EVIL!
Summery: Ville Valo lead singer of the Finnish band HIM is being haunted. (I know crap summery, couldn't think of anything else to say)
Disclaimer: I own nothing but a bunch of CD's and a soon-to-be-purchased selection of DVD's featuring the boys, I actually know nothing of their private lives.
Prologue
Part 1
Ville had never been one who went for things with a half assed approach. If he was going to do something he was going to do it with all that he had. It was this attitude that had gotten him through to where he was now, with his hand up some nameless sluts shirt, wondering what it was that he was trying to prove and to whom he was trying to prove it to.
He briefly considered re-considering his wholehearted approach to things, then he considered getting another Beer, but decided against that because the girl he was kissing already tasted strongly of cheep beer, so maybe he should start in on Vodka shots. The girl clung to him, one of her hands pulling and tugging on his hair, trying to direct him to where she wanted him to go, while the other hand glided over his back, the light touches annoying him more then enticing. What he really needed was someone stable in his life, someone not involved in the band, and above all someone who wouldn’t be fucking him just because he was a singer in said band. He wasn’t sure that was possible though. He wanted to laugh at his maudlin thoughts; perhaps for tonight he had drunk enough. Or it was possible he just hadn’t had enough to drink.
He massaged the obviously fake breast in his hand and grimaced slightly, breaking the kiss. He bent his head down further and began biting her neck, shoving his other hand down the back of her skirt, wincing as the leather of the belt she had on dug into the back of his wrist, and absently observing that he should have just gone in from the other direction of her short, short skirt, as it would have been faster and less of a tight squeeze, but as it was too late now, he simply made due and continued with his disinterested groping of her ass. Fuck he wanted a cigarette.
He paused in his ministrations as he heard some drunken prick’s declaration that he was going to sit in the ‘Haunted Chair’. Ville smiled against the girl’s neck, this should be fun, it had been a while since someone had attempted to sit in his ghost’s seat. He disengaged himself from the girl and turned to watch, now happily otherwise occupied, with lighting a cigarette, grabbing a half finished bottle of beer from a table, and completely ignoring her protests.
It had been a few months after the band had grudgingly admitted that the ghost had it’s own chair that Ville had begun to call the ghost his, with the same sort of affection that one would call a cat their own. The entire band had been followed by the apparition, both as a whole and separately, and while it had initially creeped them out they now referred to it as their number one fan. Ville had noticed that it seemed to follow him more then it did the others, going so far as to shove him back out of the way of a large truck he had blindly been walking out in front of while he scribbled down ideas for a new song on a scrap of paper from his pocket and trying to open a new pack of cigarettes at the same time. It really felt like he had someone looking out for him, and that was simply great.
Ville frowned at the man as he flopped down into the chair, causing it to creak and groan under his sudden weight, the glass of beer in his hand sloshing uneasily, a swallow or two spilling out and landing on the splintery arm, then dripping on to the man’s leg, and from there to the seat of the chair. Ville frowned, growing slightly worried, no one had ever spilled on the chair before, he wasn’t sure how protective his ghost was.
A strange chill ran up his spine and Ville found himself moving quickly, grabbing the drunken idiot, and pulling him out of the chair just as it scraped its way across the floor to slam into the wall hard enough to send all the framed pictures on it crashing to the floor, save for the one that dropped onto the chair itself, its glass shattering as it met with the back of the chair, slivers and shards raining down on the seat and floor below.
The silence of the room was only magnified by the music pumping out of the sound system, the sudden lack of incessant chatter almost more deafening then the pounding base-beat. “I think it is time everyone left.” Ville said releasing his hold on the man, and sending ‘we have to talk’ looks to his band mates. The room emptied quickly and quietly, and soon all that was left were the five men.