Crude and Vulgar Foes
Title: Crude and Vulgar Foes
Author:
cattereia
Pairing: Vam (Ville Valo from HIM x Bam Margera)
Rating: PG 13 to be safe
Summary: Drabble. Bam kisses Ville and leaves Ville to explain it to people.
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of them.
Author Notes: This was originally two different drabbles and I couldn’t bother to finish either of them so I morphed them into something I could work with.
Words: 1,125
When Ville was younger, he used to heal his loneliness and annoyances by playing his guitar; it was a calming option. It meant that he needn’t listen to others and their selfish whining. While he was playing my guitar; he always had a wonderful feeling; he knew that he could change the world in a way that only he could if he tried.
Ville looked around the room with pity for the others; the reporters that hoped that he would give them information. He’d fed so many other reporters before them the same stories and opinions; feeding their hunger for information. Ville sighed, realizing that they weren’t interested. The reporters were people he used to admire in his youth; they fed him information about the bands he adored. However, now, Ville realized that they were just scum; shamelessly flaunting interviews with famous people to sell a magazine or two. Over the past few months he’d been lied about by these people; the insinuations they produced from imaginations that he considered crude and somewhat vulgar. He felt it somewhat hypocritical to release a statement now, to these people, but he knew that he ought to talk about it to the press some point or other. It might be the only vague hope he could muster to tell them the truth.
Ville Valo’s story started when he was once playing his guitar, Sylvester. A park bench was his choice of location on this particular day. At the time, he’d found it somewhat soothing to pluck the strings and feel the chilly Finland wind brushing past his face.
He smiled, casually, only to be interrupted by a voice. “That’s a nice tune,” the voice said to him in a gruff, but sincere voice.
Ville’s smile dimmed slightly; a tad annoyed to be woken from his melodious daze. He looked up to see a man standing there, rugged up; the unfamiliar man looked somewhat cute with his uncombed hair and rough appearance Ville’s smile faded another notch; he was taken aback by the man’s complete lack of charm. Ville took one hand and reached up to his beanie, pulling it to cover the tips of his cold ears, a habit he’d unwillingly picked up during times of embarrassment. He smiled politely and hid a blush, “you’re welcome to sit down and listen,” Ville lied. It annoyed him to realize what he’d done; an invitation that only served to embarrass him more. It annoyed him even more to see the man sit down next to him, with an expression on his face that obviously showed that he wanted a decent performance.
Ville had always been shy. He’d learnt, over the years in his band, to become more confident. However, today, it seemed that he was completely lacking in that air of confidence.
“Sweetheart,” she said in a sympathetic voice, “I think that we shouldn’t see each other anymore…” she searched his face, hoping for some vague signal of emotion or understanding in response to her opinion. She found none, however. Sadly, she left the room with a shrug in an unsympathetic manner.
Bam looked at his feet, unable to speak or even move; he’d loved her deeply and it wasn’t good enough for the prissy, now ex, girlfriend of his. He sighed and losing all feeling, he fell to the floor, falling on something hard. He yelped in slight pain, reaching into his pocket to pull out a hard, but durable, cell phone.
He smiled bleakly, feeling lonely and knowing just who to call…
It wasn’t one of the Ghostbusters who felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Ville however calmly stood and let the rest of the band take care of questions for a little while; they knew the same old stories to tell the uncaring reporters. Ville, however, hoped that they would not ask his question, yet; he had still not figured out an answer to the question that might change his life.
Ville stepped out of the room, putting his phone to his ear, “what?” He asked in an exhausted, yet annoyed, tone.
“Ville,” Bam said in a pitiful tone, “I really need to see you…”
“Now isn’t the best time for this, Bam…” Ville said in a distant voice, “I’m about to speak to the press about what happened…”
It had been a drunken afternoon in one of West Chester’s bars; Ville and Bam were drinking up in preparation for no particular event.
“Ville,” Bam said, drunkenly, “I love you.”
Ville paused, staring at his friend. Bam had not sounded drunk in those few seconds. It seemed that Bam did, in fact, have feelings. Ville’s heart melted, letting his skater friend’s feelings warm his frozen Finnish heart.
Bam leant forward, drunkenly pressing his lips against the singers. Bam smiled, cherishing the warmth and taste of the moment.
Both parties instantly pulled back as they heard and felt the flash of a camera. Ville turned around, watching the camera man smirk, happily knowing that he’d found his pay day.
“Ville,” Bam said, “I know you’re mad at me for what happened…” Bam allowed his voice to trail off before clearing his throat to repeat what he’d said that night, “Ville, I love you.”
“Bam…” Ville began, knowing that Bam should be there. “You should be here for the press when they ask,” he said with a smile to himself.
Ville calmly entered the room a few minutes later and sat down at his seat. He shot a questionable expression towards Linde, wondering whether they’d asked his question, yet. Linde shook his head, quietly. Bam snuck into the room, unseen by the reporters, about ten minutes later.
“What do you say, Ville,” a nasty looking worm of a reporter asked with a smirk, standing, “to the evidence that you were kissing Bam Margera, your American skater friend? Are you seeing each other?”
Ville stood, inviting Bam onstage, pulling him into a sensual kiss as soon as he reached the right position. Ville pulled away, announcing to the reporter, “of course we’re bloody seeing each other…” Ville smiled as Bam grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the door. “And now,” Ville told the reporters, “you will not be seeing us for a while…” Ville turned with a smirk.
Ville smiled, remembering crude and vulgar articles from several different magazines. He smiled wider as he noticed a news vendor. From the corner of his mouth, he ordered that Bam stay put for the moment while he ran an errand.
Ville smiled a few minutes later when he returned to Bam, producing a magazine, featuring their kiss on the front cover. “The least we could do,” Ville muttered with a smile, “is turn at least some of it into truth…”
Author:
cattereia
Pairing: Vam (Ville Valo from HIM x Bam Margera)
Rating: PG 13 to be safe
Summary: Drabble. Bam kisses Ville and leaves Ville to explain it to people.
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of them.
Author Notes: This was originally two different drabbles and I couldn’t bother to finish either of them so I morphed them into something I could work with.
Words: 1,125
When Ville was younger, he used to heal his loneliness and annoyances by playing his guitar; it was a calming option. It meant that he needn’t listen to others and their selfish whining. While he was playing my guitar; he always had a wonderful feeling; he knew that he could change the world in a way that only he could if he tried.
Ville looked around the room with pity for the others; the reporters that hoped that he would give them information. He’d fed so many other reporters before them the same stories and opinions; feeding their hunger for information. Ville sighed, realizing that they weren’t interested. The reporters were people he used to admire in his youth; they fed him information about the bands he adored. However, now, Ville realized that they were just scum; shamelessly flaunting interviews with famous people to sell a magazine or two. Over the past few months he’d been lied about by these people; the insinuations they produced from imaginations that he considered crude and somewhat vulgar. He felt it somewhat hypocritical to release a statement now, to these people, but he knew that he ought to talk about it to the press some point or other. It might be the only vague hope he could muster to tell them the truth.
Ville Valo’s story started when he was once playing his guitar, Sylvester. A park bench was his choice of location on this particular day. At the time, he’d found it somewhat soothing to pluck the strings and feel the chilly Finland wind brushing past his face.
He smiled, casually, only to be interrupted by a voice. “That’s a nice tune,” the voice said to him in a gruff, but sincere voice.
Ville’s smile dimmed slightly; a tad annoyed to be woken from his melodious daze. He looked up to see a man standing there, rugged up; the unfamiliar man looked somewhat cute with his uncombed hair and rough appearance Ville’s smile faded another notch; he was taken aback by the man’s complete lack of charm. Ville took one hand and reached up to his beanie, pulling it to cover the tips of his cold ears, a habit he’d unwillingly picked up during times of embarrassment. He smiled politely and hid a blush, “you’re welcome to sit down and listen,” Ville lied. It annoyed him to realize what he’d done; an invitation that only served to embarrass him more. It annoyed him even more to see the man sit down next to him, with an expression on his face that obviously showed that he wanted a decent performance.
Ville had always been shy. He’d learnt, over the years in his band, to become more confident. However, today, it seemed that he was completely lacking in that air of confidence.
“Sweetheart,” she said in a sympathetic voice, “I think that we shouldn’t see each other anymore…” she searched his face, hoping for some vague signal of emotion or understanding in response to her opinion. She found none, however. Sadly, she left the room with a shrug in an unsympathetic manner.
Bam looked at his feet, unable to speak or even move; he’d loved her deeply and it wasn’t good enough for the prissy, now ex, girlfriend of his. He sighed and losing all feeling, he fell to the floor, falling on something hard. He yelped in slight pain, reaching into his pocket to pull out a hard, but durable, cell phone.
He smiled bleakly, feeling lonely and knowing just who to call…
It wasn’t one of the Ghostbusters who felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Ville however calmly stood and let the rest of the band take care of questions for a little while; they knew the same old stories to tell the uncaring reporters. Ville, however, hoped that they would not ask his question, yet; he had still not figured out an answer to the question that might change his life.
Ville stepped out of the room, putting his phone to his ear, “what?” He asked in an exhausted, yet annoyed, tone.
“Ville,” Bam said in a pitiful tone, “I really need to see you…”
“Now isn’t the best time for this, Bam…” Ville said in a distant voice, “I’m about to speak to the press about what happened…”
It had been a drunken afternoon in one of West Chester’s bars; Ville and Bam were drinking up in preparation for no particular event.
“Ville,” Bam said, drunkenly, “I love you.”
Ville paused, staring at his friend. Bam had not sounded drunk in those few seconds. It seemed that Bam did, in fact, have feelings. Ville’s heart melted, letting his skater friend’s feelings warm his frozen Finnish heart.
Bam leant forward, drunkenly pressing his lips against the singers. Bam smiled, cherishing the warmth and taste of the moment.
Both parties instantly pulled back as they heard and felt the flash of a camera. Ville turned around, watching the camera man smirk, happily knowing that he’d found his pay day.
“Ville,” Bam said, “I know you’re mad at me for what happened…” Bam allowed his voice to trail off before clearing his throat to repeat what he’d said that night, “Ville, I love you.”
“Bam…” Ville began, knowing that Bam should be there. “You should be here for the press when they ask,” he said with a smile to himself.
Ville calmly entered the room a few minutes later and sat down at his seat. He shot a questionable expression towards Linde, wondering whether they’d asked his question, yet. Linde shook his head, quietly. Bam snuck into the room, unseen by the reporters, about ten minutes later.
“What do you say, Ville,” a nasty looking worm of a reporter asked with a smirk, standing, “to the evidence that you were kissing Bam Margera, your American skater friend? Are you seeing each other?”
Ville stood, inviting Bam onstage, pulling him into a sensual kiss as soon as he reached the right position. Ville pulled away, announcing to the reporter, “of course we’re bloody seeing each other…” Ville smiled as Bam grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the door. “And now,” Ville told the reporters, “you will not be seeing us for a while…” Ville turned with a smirk.
Ville smiled, remembering crude and vulgar articles from several different magazines. He smiled wider as he noticed a news vendor. From the corner of his mouth, he ordered that Bam stay put for the moment while he ran an errand.
Ville smiled a few minutes later when he returned to Bam, producing a magazine, featuring their kiss on the front cover. “The least we could do,” Ville muttered with a smile, “is turn at least some of it into truth…”