#miwfanfic

[elgrimoriodelabruja]

City Lights - Whore (on Wattpad) https://my.w.tt/NnmgIORGO9 Fan fic sobre Nightwish y Motionless in White

[jaymarawrites-blog]

LIKE RATS - 1 - Chris

Chris.

The first time Chris put his hands on me I felt my body turn inside out. When he reached for my hips, one enormous palm cupping each one, my skin shrank from him the way prophets have shrunk from the presence of God. This act was a sacrament: his tongue on mine a communion wafer, the bruises he bit into my throat a well-deserved flogging. This was what mattered; this was the meaning of life.

Here is what I learned from Chris: betrayals, like death, happen in threes.

Some betrayals are immediate; some betrayals creep in and take hold in your sleep.

Some betrayals have already occurred long before the act takes place, the last rites said, the final breath taken.

This is what Chris taught me.

A single pair of hands can be both cruel and gentle. The same eyes can be endless wells of despair as easily as they can turn cold. The same face can inspire tenderness and terror.

The same tongue can punish and reward. Chris taught me this, too.

~~~

Begin at the beginning: LIKE RATS - Prologue

[skelet0n-gh0st-blog]

A date with Chris motionless

( this is my first fanfic so sorry if it isn’t good :( ) You haven’t seen Chris in almost six months since he’s left for his all around the world tour; but he’s finally coming home today. You woke up, stretched, and grabbed your phone off the nightstand. You looked through your notifications to see one from Chris. “ Hey babe, just wanted to tell you good morning and be ready by five o'clock tonight, I’m taking you out. :)” you smiled as you felt butterflies in your stomach. You look at the time “ TWO O'CLOCK WHAT THE FUCK!” You practically yelled at yourself. You jumped out of bed and got in the shower and quickly shaved, accidentally cutting yourself a few times from rushing. You washed your hair and got out. You put on some shorts and a shirt so you can clean the house up. You go back into your room and make the bed, pick up your clothes, and take two empty water bottles to the trash. You scurry downstairs to the kitchen and clean the dishes, sweep, mop, etc. after two whole hours of cleaning, you realize you have one hour to get ready before Chris got home. So you hurried back up stairs and through on some soft-toned makeup and a black dress that was see-through at the top. You straightened your long black hair and went to grab your shoes, until you heard, "babe I’m home.” You haven’t ran down a flight of stairs so quickly in your life. As soon as you saw him, you ran into his arms and kissed him passionately. After a moment you pulled back away from him. “ ummm… y/n, I think you’re forgetting something..” he said chuckling, looking down at your one heel on. “ shit, sorry I heard you and I got excited.” You said blushing. “ well come on we can’t be late tonight.” You rush up stairs and grab your heal and run back down stairs, not even putting it on until you got down to the front door. Once you got up you went outside to the car. Chris opens the door for you and you give him a genuine smile and sat down. Moments later he got in the car. The car ride there was just filled with him telling me stories about the whole tour and you two singing to old slipknot songs. Once you got there, you noticed there was a HUGE line to get in. “ uhh babe, are you sure you want to wait in this long line?” He just looked at you and laughed. You two both got out and went ahead of the line. You noticed all the ugly looks you got from the people in line. “ and the name for the table?” The host said, “ uh, Chris Motionless.” He responded with. “ right this way.” You follow behind Chris while looking around the beautiful restaurant. It was so pretty and there were so many people in here. You go to an area where there was only three other couples. It was completely cut off from the others. “ here you are, enjoy!” The host says with a smile as she walks away. I sat down in the soft booth seat looking at the red roses and the white table cloth on the table. “ Chris you didn’t have to-” “ I know I didn’t have To y/n, I wanted to. I’ve been with you for almost three years now and I wanted to do something special, so I reserved this table for today before the tour started so we could have an amazing area to be seated at.” You couldn’t help but smile as one tear rolled down your face “ god damn it Chris, you always make me so emotional.” You both laughed as you tried to keep your mascara from running. After dinner, you two went home and watched “The Crow” while cuddling. The last thing you said before you drifted asleep in his arms is “ I’m so happy I have you in my life.” ( yes I know this sucked, this was my first one. You can ask me for certain ones you would like to read though ^_^)

[ashleyvang-blog]

Reincarnate - Chapter 1. Bite me (on Wattpad) http://my.w.tt/UiNb/kVQgDpw31A Chris Motionless moves to college where he meets Coraline. A girl he can't get out of his mind. He is attracted to her, what makes it dangerous for her to be around him, because his a vampire. A cold bloody killer. Can he hold himself back or does he needs to leave college to save her?

[jaymarawrites-blog]

LIKE RATS - Prologue

Don’t say his name: feel it. Locate the the first phoneme, the initial /k/. The sound starts not in your mouth but deep in the base of your throat. It is the sound of a catch in your breath, a hitch in your body.

Feel it: /k/.

Feel it rumble up, rumble through you, rumble along and roll your tongue into a final flail of submission. Roll your tongue along the postalveolar sound. Feel it graze your teeth, just barely. Be careful not to bite.

Release your breath on the /i/, and only then realize you’ve held it. You held your breath for this release in anticipation of the trailing /s/, a slide of the tongue, subtle and serpentine.

Feel his name in your mouth, your chest, your belly. Feel his name through your fingers and toes. Feel his name and you needn’t say it.

Feel it guarded close to your heart.

[jaymarawrites-blog]

LIKE RATS - 2 - Michael

I met Chris through my husband, as I meet everyone through my husband. By now I think most of the people I’ve met in my lifetime have been through Michael. One of the drawbacks of being attached to an instantly recognizable person.

His band’s pop cultural relevance isn’t as immediate as it once was, not even as much as when I met him. But their fans are cult-like, even as they age. Google the name “Michael March” or the band “Second Chance” and you find endless articles, images, gifs, even fanfiction. A startling amount for a band in their twenty-first year together. More and more, though, you find interviews with younger bands, eager up-and-comers, who cite Second Chance’s Ready, Set...  or even Six-Foot Drop as the first CD they ever bought.

Some of the young musicians single out Michael himself as their personal hero. They worship his self-possession, his grace, and, whether they admit it or not, they’ve lifted his entire aesthetic. It’s obvious in the photos that accompany these interviews that become more and more airbrushed over the years.The asymmetrical haircuts, the horror-themed tattoos, the drapey black cloaks and sweaters, the pancake makeup and so-called “guyliner.” This breed can all be traced back to my husband.

Ten years later, Michael isn't the same man he was when I married him. I can't hold that against him, though: he’s actually never been that man at all. The man we all thought he was. When I married him I didn’t know any more about him than the kids singing his praises in Kerrang! and Alternative Press do now.

I met Michael at a photoshoot for his Satanic Panic line, which was new at the time. It was an occult-themed line of T-shirts that would expand as far as chunky plastic jewelry before folding.

I was trying to model then. I was twenty and somewhere along the way I’d confused an aptitude for cosmetology with the calling to stand - or sprawl - in front of cameras. I received a misleading-yet-encouraging amount of work with niche companies because of my niche look. I externalized my goth inclinations as much as possible back then: I didn’t have Vogue Italia proportions, but corsets helped and places I modeled for shrugged at my average height and accepted my curves because I knew how to hide them when I had to. It took time for me to realize my aspirations wouldn’t take me much further, and working with a rockstar name like Michael March would be the apex of my modeling career.

Over the course of a short lifetime, I’d become attuned to the signs of mutual attraction. I didn’t sense it often, so when I did I felt every wisp of hair on my body was standing on end. My cheeks warmed and I found myself winding my fingers in and out of my hair when I spoke to Michael for the first time. He was beautiful; there was no question. We met during his false eyelash phase; he wore eye makeup I envied. The length of his asymmetrical black hair hung in his face and a silver hoop stood out on his lower lip. At first glance he looked much the same as he had in Second Chance’s early years, but he was no longer youthfully lean. He had hard, compact muscles he now worked to maintain, and his face was equally hard.

He had lifted the corners of his mouth in a tight smile as he shook my hand, and hadn’t smiled again in speaking before or after the shoot. His lack of emotion made me feel that he took me seriously, and I was young enough that that feeling was all that mattered.

I don’t remember what we spoke about specifically, only the feeling he gave me and that that feeling carried over when we shot together. I’d shot with many men, of course, but with Michael there was a different chemistry than I’d ever experienced before. Almost as if I had no ownership of it, as if this “chemistry” was all his to share or withhold as he wished, as if he’d share the same chemistry with any other woman who could have been in my place. He didn’t work with me like other men had, and he didn’t work against me like some of the worse models did. He manipulated my body as he saw fit, and my body somehow knew what his was asking.

He moved slowly, like we were underwater.

He faced me toward the camera, pulling my hair back with one hand and running his other icy hand up the front of the tee, over my bare stomach.

He turned me to the side and pulled my hair back again so that my back arched away from him, faced his tee toward the camera, and planted one foot through my legs so that his thigh rubbed up against me.

He turned me away from the camera so that my tee’s back design faced forward and jammed his hands into my back pockets, his tattooed arms encircling my waist.

I was young. I’d thought this mattered. I thought it meant something that our bodies spoke to each other in this way. I thought it mattered that I seemed able to read him without thinking, or that he knew how to direct my body better than I could direct it myself.

It was years before I realized that this physical connection meant nothing. It was several more years before I realized that this connection actually meant more than I’d ever realized, that this should have been a warning.

It was when I met Chris that I finally realized that, ultimately, a connection like this could mean everything.

~~~

Begin at the beginning: LIKE RATS - Prologue

[jaymarawrites-blog]

LIKE RATS - 3 - Lavender

I felt my lips press into a tight smile as my thighs clenched involuntarily, but I didn’t take my eyes away from my book. As if ignoring him would stop it.

“Spenser.” As if Michael’s hand between my legs hadn’t announced his intentions already.

“Yes?”

Michael kissed my neck. I placed my book on the nightstand. I was being patient, I thought. I was being good. Feeling the pucker of his lips against my skin made me cringe internally, but I forced my expression to remain placid.

I concentrated on the lavender-scented sachet on the nightstand next to me while he pulled down my lounge pants. I’d placed it there for this reason exactly: lavender is supposed to help you sleep, I’d told him when I put it next to the bed, but it was also supposed to relax you. Michael was obviously serious, so I lifted my hips to help him, to get it over with. His fingers felt between my legs again and I was embarrassed for him, embarrassed that his fingers couldn’t slide easily, but stuck clumsily against my dry skin.

He was beautiful, I swear to God he was. Michael was gorgeous, but it didn’t matter. I loved him, but that didn’t matter, either. He was gorgeous the way works of art are, like a piece of music or a sculpture, and I loved him like I loved my childhood home, my first dog. And his beauty and the love I felt for him hadn’t intersected for a couple of years now. I had sex with him grudgingly, because I knew refusing would only hurt us more. I avoided it, though, when I could, and masturbated to acquaintances and people I passed on the street on my own. It was easier that way. Less mess, less intimacy. I was sad looking into his face and knowing I couldn’t see it now the way I’d seen it before we were married.

To this day, there were people out there who would kill to be with my husband. Michael’s band really blew up in the days of TRL and MySpace. There were still old gifs of him out there: a still from one of the more popular music videos surrounded by animated pink sparkles or hearts. His band still made music, still toured. They played smaller venues, but fans lined up hours before doors opened to stand against the barricade, and even camped out the night before in some cities.

He looked the same now as then. His black hair was short now and sprinkled with gray; his narrow face and rare smile were lined around his mouth and eyes. It worked for him, though. He was still sexy. Experience-sexy. I was just too close to see it anymore - it was all out of focus. It was such a waste. There were probably people out there masturbating to pictures or videos of Michael at any given time, and I would have traded places with any of them for the time doing this took.

He’d removed his sweats and now licked his hand to moisten me. I focused on the anatomically-correct heart tattooed on his chest as he entered me, slowly. It was a stupid tattoo. He’d gotten it in his early twenties, along with the rest of the tattoos he hated now and covered and recovered every five-to-ten years. They covered his torso and had begun to look like a two-year-old’s scribbles on a coloring book page.

He eased in and out of me, and placed his hands on either side of my head. At least he’d allowed me to keep my T-shirt on.

“Look at me,” he said.

In...

“I am looking at you.”

… And out.

“Look at my face.”

In…

“Okay…”

… And out.

The intensity of his face embarrassed me. I was embarrassed that he thought this was still us. He thought this look he gave me when we were dating, the soulful eyes and shuddering breath, still applied ten years later.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

His speed hadn’t changed.

“Why are you going so slow?”

“I want you to enjoy it.”

He leaned down to kiss me and didn’t notice my exasperation. I’d all but rolled my eyes. I wasn’t going to enjoy it; that wasn’t even on the table. The best hope I had was for the friction to warm me up and get me loose, and friction was barely happening.

“No, just…” I struggled. “Just go ahead.” I could feel my vaginal walls literally pushing him out. “Just, you know, go.”

“Okay,” he said and picked up the pace. His breath came faster now. “Do you know how much I love you?”

I learned long ago that it didn’t need to be a conversation if I simply responded, “I love you, too.”

At least that was true.

~~~

Begin at the beginning: LIKE RATS - Prologue

[ashleyvang-blog]

Reincarnate - Author's note (on Wattpad) http://my.w.tt/UiNb/7KR5GJs31A Chris Motionless moves to college where he meets Coraline. A girl he can't get out of his mind. He is attracted to her, what makes it dangerous for her to be around him, because his a vampire. A cold bloody killer. Can he hold himself back or does he needs to leave college to save her?

[ashleyvang-blog]

Reincarnate (on Wattpad) http://my.w.tt/UiNb/2UiypMd31A Chris Motionless moves to college where he meets Coraline. A girl he can't get out of his mind. He is attracted to her, what makes it dangerous for her to be around him, because his a vampire. A cold bloody killer. Can he hold himself back or does he needs to leave college to save her?