eleveneleven [7/15]
Title: eleveneleven [7/15]
Author: asphyxiatide/marina.
Rating: nc-17 i guess.
Pairing: alex gaskarth/zack merrick
Summary: zack and alex meet in front of a 7-11, they start watching movies together, and before long, zack finds himself desperately begging alex to get a new job. bribery ensues.
Warnings: gratuitous potty mouth, horror movie fanatic (and resulting gory things), excessive girl pants jokes, badly typed accents, boys kissing, boys dancing suggestively, boys hitting on each other on dance floor, hookers, boisecks (well, eventually), condom people.
Disclaimer: as far as my characters, i just stole them and turned them gay and made one of them a hooker. movies and content discussed = property of the respective owners. plot and most dialogue = property of author/marina/me. if you got here by googling your name, please click that little x button at the top corner of your screen.
Dedications: my mother. not only because it's mother's day! mostly because we have dancing phalanges and she yells at me about how our porch light is "fucking ugly." she also got a nikon d40 this morning but then she got a d60 the afternoon and the d40 is nao min3! (: iloveherverymuch!
Author Notes: warning for girlishscream!alex and spooky!alex. also the cut belongs to the opening lines of saw iii. neither alex nor zack are junkie bitches and nobody's going to fucking kill anyone.
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
chapter six
"It wasn't live?" Alex breathed, for the eightieth time today, and I sighed again.
"It wasn't live," I repeated.
"And Daniel was in the safe the whole time?"
"Daniel was in the safe the whole time."
"And now Eric Matthews is chained to a pipe in the bathroom with Dr. Gordon's severed foot, and the bodies of Adam and Zep and Xavier?"
"Yeah," I said flatly, nodding.
"And what about the nerve gas?"
"I guess it's still there, I don't know."
"Du-ude," Alex whined. "Saw III, now please." He went for the stack of DVDs and it toppled. His fingers nudged cases around, hunting for the one with teeth hanging from wires.
"Right now?" I asked, sort of stunned.
"Yes, right now," he whined, tossing Little Miss Sunshine down onto the table with a sharp thwack. He gave me a desperate look, then stuck out his lower lip, which looked a million kinds of adorable.
"Haven't you seen enough icky self-mutilation today?" I asked, laughing quietly.
"Fuck self-mutilation, I need more of Eric Matthews' doucheyness!" he exclaimed, shoving my leg and throwing his head back.
"Well, the whole first five minutes of Saw III is Eric Matthews trying to get out of his shackle." I shrugged indifferently.
"Ohh, I need that."
"Fine," I sighed, standing and going over to the TV to check around the DVD player for the disk. I leaned in to get a better look, shifting my weight to one foot. I spotted it with an "aha" and stuffed it into the disk drive as I popped open the Saw II case.
"I'm all nervous again," Alex murmured, then scoffed in frustration and added, "Oh, will you not stand like that, Zack?"
"Stand like what?" I giggled, arching my back and swaying my hips back and forth.
"With your ass out like that," he whined, shrinking into the couch. I sat next to him and pulled him close, arm around his shoulder.
"Is sitting like this better?" I asked, leaning into his shoulder.
"Mhm," he cooed. "Much, much better."
The movie started with Eric Matthews incessant, repetitive screaming of "you fucking bitch, I'll fucking kill you, you junkie bitch."
"Huh?" Alex went, raising his eyebrows.
"Saw III starts right where Saw II ends," I murmured.
"Oh."
Alex remained silent for the rest of the film, besides his sing-song of "vagina" and the occasional "OH!" whenever something jumpy and violent happened. He also screamed like a baby when Lynn Denlon's collar detonated.
"Alex, babe, it's a movie," I cooed, squeezing his hand in mine.
"Her fuckin' head," he panted, voice cracking, "was not fuckin' there. It was fuckin', on the fuckin', the fuckin' wall and shit."
"You know, I told you about that last night," I reminded him.
"Yeah, but, you didn't tell me about the fuckin'," he tried, free hand on his forehead. He still sucked in air, trying to catch his breath. The credits rolled idly, theme music playing in the background.
"It's a movie, hun," I repeated, pulling him close to my body, pressing him to my chest. "It's not even real. And even if it was, if somebody came in here with a pig mask to kidnap you, I'd stab them in the face before they got you." Alex's body relaxed, melting into my shoulder. "Now are we gonna go out tonight, like you said?" I felt his face change; his lips curled up.
"Yeah." He nodded, nose nudging into my clavicle.
"What do you wanna do?" I asked, hand in his hair.
"Dance," he breathed, utterly content in the thought.
"Dance?" I repeated in horror.
"Dance."
"Anything else you wanna do, other than dance?"
"You, but I don't think that's happening."
"It's not," I exclaimed, "but dancing?"
"Yeah, I want to go to the city and dance." Alex came up to my face and casually pecked my cheek. "You'd stab somebody wearing a pig mask for me, but you don't want to dance?"
I breathed a laugh. "Exactly."
"Oh come on. It might actually be fun," he added. I sighed reluctantly.
"Alright, but I'm not promising anything, Alex."
"Thank you," he cooed.
"Yeah, yeah."
"I gotta change," he announced, pushing himself up off my chest. "You should too."
"What?" I laughed. "I should change? You're about to change into girl jeans."
"They make my butt look nice," he said, then smacked his ass nonchalantly and disappeared behind the curtain. I shook my head in amusement.
"That's what you think," I retorted.
"Because I'm right." His shorts hit the floor and the bed made a noise as Alex sat on the edge. "They are pretty tight, though," he growled, and the sounds of too-tight jeans being yanked on were audible. I laughed to myself, too quiet for him to hear.
"Well, whatever tickles your pickle," I tried, yanking the curtain aside as soon as I heard his belt buckle click. Alex chuckled.
"Or strangles it," he quipped. He eyed the zipper of his jeans, which arced out suggestively.
"You're cute," I giggled, shedding my shirt and opening one of my drawers. I sifted through clothes as Alex hunted through his own bag.
"Should I wear my Glamour Kills shirt or my Drop Dead shirt?" he asked, holding up each one as I pulled mine over my head. It was the exact Glamour Kills shirt that Alex was holding.
"I say go with your Drop Dead one," I breathed, my face splitting into an enormous smile. Alex's did something similar.
"Good choice," he whispered, yanking it on. "Do you really frequent all-night dance parties in your Glamour Kills, Zack?" He raised an eyebrow suggestively.
"No, not really." I laughed nervously. "Do you?"
"In fact, I do," he said matter-of-factly, nodding. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't want you to drop dead."
"That's very reassuring, Alex." I pecked him on the cheek as I strolled into the living room. I heard him stifle a giggle.
"Babe," Alex began, "do you have a flatiron?" I peered around the curtain.
"Do I look like I have a flatiron?" I retorted playfully, shaking my mess of curly hair into my face.
"Fair point," he quipped. "What about a car?"
"That I do have," I replied brightly. "By the way, how'd you get in the apartment last night? I don't remember giving you a key."
"You hide your spare in the most obvious place," he cooed, then swooped in to kiss me on the lips. Was this going to become a casual thing? I supposed I didn't mind, because he was a good kisser and all, and he was ridiculously hot, and we were madly in crush and stuff. It was just odd; we were friendly roommates, not makeout buddies. I twisted away and smiled to myself.
"I'll make you a spare," I murmured.
"A spare what?" Alex asked, somehow innocent even as he wiped the saliva from his lip with the back of his index finger like a hooker. Oh, wait.
"Key," I told him.
"How long have I known you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and handing me a random tie that had been sitting on my dresser.
"All of," I began, calculating as I looped it around my neck, "four days, I suppose. Unless you count the three it took me to call you."
"So a week, tops, and you're giving me a key to your apartment?" Alex smirked. "Y'know, I could be some freakshow serial killer. Or an abusive boyfriend. Or Jigsaw's final hope, just waiting to don that pig mask and shove a chloroform rag down your throat when you're sleeping." He was now holding his hands up, growling and wiggling his fingers... well, menacingly, I guess.
"Or a hooker, tired of being fucked by closet gays and sleeping in a shithole apartment?"
"Let's go with the last one." Alex grinned at the floor, almost embarrassed.
"How about we go get you a key made, then find us a dance party downtown?" I proposed, taking a hesitant step backwards.
"Sounds like a plan," he giggled, grabbing my tie and pulling me out the door.
Author: asphyxiatide/marina.
Rating: nc-17 i guess.
Pairing: alex gaskarth/zack merrick
Summary: zack and alex meet in front of a 7-11, they start watching movies together, and before long, zack finds himself desperately begging alex to get a new job. bribery ensues.
Warnings: gratuitous potty mouth, horror movie fanatic (and resulting gory things), excessive girl pants jokes, badly typed accents, boys kissing, boys dancing suggestively, boys hitting on each other on dance floor, hookers, boisecks (well, eventually), condom people.
Disclaimer: as far as my characters, i just stole them and turned them gay and made one of them a hooker. movies and content discussed = property of the respective owners. plot and most dialogue = property of author/marina/me. if you got here by googling your name, please click that little x button at the top corner of your screen.
Dedications: my mother. not only because it's mother's day! mostly because we have dancing phalanges and she yells at me about how our porch light is "fucking ugly." she also got a nikon d40 this morning but then she got a d60 the afternoon and the d40 is nao min3! (: iloveherverymuch!
Author Notes: warning for girlishscream!alex and spooky!alex. also the cut belongs to the opening lines of saw iii. neither alex nor zack are junkie bitches and nobody's going to fucking kill anyone.
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
chapter six
"It wasn't live?" Alex breathed, for the eightieth time today, and I sighed again.
"It wasn't live," I repeated.
"And Daniel was in the safe the whole time?"
"Daniel was in the safe the whole time."
"And now Eric Matthews is chained to a pipe in the bathroom with Dr. Gordon's severed foot, and the bodies of Adam and Zep and Xavier?"
"Yeah," I said flatly, nodding.
"And what about the nerve gas?"
"I guess it's still there, I don't know."
"Du-ude," Alex whined. "Saw III, now please." He went for the stack of DVDs and it toppled. His fingers nudged cases around, hunting for the one with teeth hanging from wires.
"Right now?" I asked, sort of stunned.
"Yes, right now," he whined, tossing Little Miss Sunshine down onto the table with a sharp thwack. He gave me a desperate look, then stuck out his lower lip, which looked a million kinds of adorable.
"Haven't you seen enough icky self-mutilation today?" I asked, laughing quietly.
"Fuck self-mutilation, I need more of Eric Matthews' doucheyness!" he exclaimed, shoving my leg and throwing his head back.
"Well, the whole first five minutes of Saw III is Eric Matthews trying to get out of his shackle." I shrugged indifferently.
"Ohh, I need that."
"Fine," I sighed, standing and going over to the TV to check around the DVD player for the disk. I leaned in to get a better look, shifting my weight to one foot. I spotted it with an "aha" and stuffed it into the disk drive as I popped open the Saw II case.
"I'm all nervous again," Alex murmured, then scoffed in frustration and added, "Oh, will you not stand like that, Zack?"
"Stand like what?" I giggled, arching my back and swaying my hips back and forth.
"With your ass out like that," he whined, shrinking into the couch. I sat next to him and pulled him close, arm around his shoulder.
"Is sitting like this better?" I asked, leaning into his shoulder.
"Mhm," he cooed. "Much, much better."
The movie started with Eric Matthews incessant, repetitive screaming of "you fucking bitch, I'll fucking kill you, you junkie bitch."
"Huh?" Alex went, raising his eyebrows.
"Saw III starts right where Saw II ends," I murmured.
"Oh."
Alex remained silent for the rest of the film, besides his sing-song of "vagina" and the occasional "OH!" whenever something jumpy and violent happened. He also screamed like a baby when Lynn Denlon's collar detonated.
"Alex, babe, it's a movie," I cooed, squeezing his hand in mine.
"Her fuckin' head," he panted, voice cracking, "was not fuckin' there. It was fuckin', on the fuckin', the fuckin' wall and shit."
"You know, I told you about that last night," I reminded him.
"Yeah, but, you didn't tell me about the fuckin'," he tried, free hand on his forehead. He still sucked in air, trying to catch his breath. The credits rolled idly, theme music playing in the background.
"It's a movie, hun," I repeated, pulling him close to my body, pressing him to my chest. "It's not even real. And even if it was, if somebody came in here with a pig mask to kidnap you, I'd stab them in the face before they got you." Alex's body relaxed, melting into my shoulder. "Now are we gonna go out tonight, like you said?" I felt his face change; his lips curled up.
"Yeah." He nodded, nose nudging into my clavicle.
"What do you wanna do?" I asked, hand in his hair.
"Dance," he breathed, utterly content in the thought.
"Dance?" I repeated in horror.
"Dance."
"Anything else you wanna do, other than dance?"
"You, but I don't think that's happening."
"It's not," I exclaimed, "but dancing?"
"Yeah, I want to go to the city and dance." Alex came up to my face and casually pecked my cheek. "You'd stab somebody wearing a pig mask for me, but you don't want to dance?"
I breathed a laugh. "Exactly."
"Oh come on. It might actually be fun," he added. I sighed reluctantly.
"Alright, but I'm not promising anything, Alex."
"Thank you," he cooed.
"Yeah, yeah."
"I gotta change," he announced, pushing himself up off my chest. "You should too."
"What?" I laughed. "I should change? You're about to change into girl jeans."
"They make my butt look nice," he said, then smacked his ass nonchalantly and disappeared behind the curtain. I shook my head in amusement.
"That's what you think," I retorted.
"Because I'm right." His shorts hit the floor and the bed made a noise as Alex sat on the edge. "They are pretty tight, though," he growled, and the sounds of too-tight jeans being yanked on were audible. I laughed to myself, too quiet for him to hear.
"Well, whatever tickles your pickle," I tried, yanking the curtain aside as soon as I heard his belt buckle click. Alex chuckled.
"Or strangles it," he quipped. He eyed the zipper of his jeans, which arced out suggestively.
"You're cute," I giggled, shedding my shirt and opening one of my drawers. I sifted through clothes as Alex hunted through his own bag.
"Should I wear my Glamour Kills shirt or my Drop Dead shirt?" he asked, holding up each one as I pulled mine over my head. It was the exact Glamour Kills shirt that Alex was holding.
"I say go with your Drop Dead one," I breathed, my face splitting into an enormous smile. Alex's did something similar.
"Good choice," he whispered, yanking it on. "Do you really frequent all-night dance parties in your Glamour Kills, Zack?" He raised an eyebrow suggestively.
"No, not really." I laughed nervously. "Do you?"
"In fact, I do," he said matter-of-factly, nodding. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't want you to drop dead."
"That's very reassuring, Alex." I pecked him on the cheek as I strolled into the living room. I heard him stifle a giggle.
"Babe," Alex began, "do you have a flatiron?" I peered around the curtain.
"Do I look like I have a flatiron?" I retorted playfully, shaking my mess of curly hair into my face.
"Fair point," he quipped. "What about a car?"
"That I do have," I replied brightly. "By the way, how'd you get in the apartment last night? I don't remember giving you a key."
"You hide your spare in the most obvious place," he cooed, then swooped in to kiss me on the lips. Was this going to become a casual thing? I supposed I didn't mind, because he was a good kisser and all, and he was ridiculously hot, and we were madly in crush and stuff. It was just odd; we were friendly roommates, not makeout buddies. I twisted away and smiled to myself.
"I'll make you a spare," I murmured.
"A spare what?" Alex asked, somehow innocent even as he wiped the saliva from his lip with the back of his index finger like a hooker. Oh, wait.
"Key," I told him.
"How long have I known you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and handing me a random tie that had been sitting on my dresser.
"All of," I began, calculating as I looped it around my neck, "four days, I suppose. Unless you count the three it took me to call you."
"So a week, tops, and you're giving me a key to your apartment?" Alex smirked. "Y'know, I could be some freakshow serial killer. Or an abusive boyfriend. Or Jigsaw's final hope, just waiting to don that pig mask and shove a chloroform rag down your throat when you're sleeping." He was now holding his hands up, growling and wiggling his fingers... well, menacingly, I guess.
"Or a hooker, tired of being fucked by closet gays and sleeping in a shithole apartment?"
"Let's go with the last one." Alex grinned at the floor, almost embarrassed.
"How about we go get you a key made, then find us a dance party downtown?" I proposed, taking a hesitant step backwards.
"Sounds like a plan," he giggled, grabbing my tie and pulling me out the door.