#LIKE. WE GOT NOT ONE BUT TWO MCR SHOWS !!! NOT COMPLAINING ABOUT IT | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years ago

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𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑲𝒊𝒔𝒔 (𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒋𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒈) 𝑹𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅

Part Two

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡/𝐄𝐦𝐨! 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠 (𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳)/ 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞)

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐀𝐔

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐀𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥/𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞/𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞/𝐝*𝐜𝐤 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 (𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐣𝐨𝐛 (𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐩*𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧).

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐅𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐘/𝐍 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟓𝐊+

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @hanatiny @vocalyunho @galaxteez (payback you little bitch)

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Awoken from her daydream, Y/N grumbled when her best friend shoved his notebook in her face.

"Earth to Y/N!" He shouted as he ruffled her hair with the object in his hand.

"Mingi! What the hell?" She complained as she pushed the notebook away.

"I've been trying to get your attention for the past 3 minutes. Are you even listening to me?" He questioned her.

"I am!" She interjected.

Giving her a quizzical look, he crossed his arms.

"Really? Then can you tell me what the answer is?"

Ripping the notebook from his hands, she looked over the equation that filling half the page, squinting at it every now and then before ultimately admitting defeat as she slowly handed it back to the genius sitting next to her on the bench.

Rolling his eyes, Mingi let out a small sigh as he began packing up his belongings, deeming it useless to continue his semi-tutoring session.

"Don't give me that look Min, not everyone is a cute nerd like you that can solve an advanced calculus problem in mere seconds."

"Ok! Although that may be true.." He held up a finger as he paused to fully zip up his bag.

"You're pretty smart too Y/N."

She gave him a small thankful smile at his comment.

"You're problem isn't that you're dumb. Your problem is currently standing right over there."

She hesitantly tilted her head to where his head gestured at, knowing fully well what she'd see. But as soon as she caught a glimpse of the black combat boots, her eyes stayed fixated on the figure reclining against the lamppost. Her eyes trailed up his ripped black skinny jeans, up his torso which was covered by a striped black and dark red turtleneck, its sleeves peeking out of the black studded leather jacket layered on top, until they landed on his nonchalant gaze. His eyes were looking down at his phone, the input connected to the headphones that were currently resting on top of his dark ash grey head. That was how one would mostly find Kim Hongjoong: lost in his own little world, blocking out the rest of his environment with a click of his music playlist, no doubt filled with bands like Linkin Park, Breaking Benjamin and MCR. Y/N wasn't going to lie, more than once she often thought about playing a G note near him just to see if he'd react or not. Thinking about him actually reacting to anything made her giggle on the inside.

"And there you go again!" Mingi's voice yelled in her ear.

She was so startled by his piercing scream, she actually fell over and hit the pavement kinda hard. She winced as she felt a pain on her derriere.

"Ow. Ow. Ow." She groaned as she began lifting herself up.

Out of nowhere, a pair of arms scooped her up and helped her stand upright.

"You all right?" The person asked.

"I think so. Thank you for-"

Her words got caught on her throat as a pair of dark brown eyes looked at her, black eyeliner smoked out to accentuate the shape of his eyes and make them look more intense than they already were.

He smirked at her before looking over at Mingi and nodding at him.

"Yunho sent you the invite right?"

Although he was quite familiar and somewhat friendly with Hongjoong, Mingi still had a hard time talking to him, so he merely tilted his head down in a half nod.

"So you're coming or are you going to stay home again and study for any surprise quiz Professor Nam might try to give us?"

Mingi poked his bottom lip out, somewhat offended at being called out like that. The dark male let out a soft snort.

"Seriously Mingi, going out once in a while won't hurt you. You don't even have to get fucked up if you don't want. Just come hang out."

Turning his attention back at the girl silently admiring him, he flashed her a wink.

"Bring a friend if you want too."

Bringing the headphones up to cover his overly pierced ears, he shoved his hands into his pockets and walked away in that usual way of his that made several people think he was on his way to commit a felony or crime.

Y/N watched him leave until he was completely out of sight, and even then, she still stayed staring at the corner he turned. Leaning in, Mingi stared at her with widened eyes.

"Your middle school phase of liking Andy Biersack copycats is really showing Y/N."

She scoffed and pushed his face away from hers.

"Shut up, you act like you didn't have your own infatuation with Hayley Williams."

Mingi stiffened, his ears turning slightly red at the memories.

"I got over it didn't I?"

"I don't know? Did you?" She wiggled her eyebrows at him teasingly.

"Some friend you are. And here I was actually thinking of taking you with me to the weekend bash Yunho and his friends invited me to."

Y/N looked at him in disbelief.

"First off, why would they even invite you? You're not even a part of their clique. Second, even if they had invited you, you wouldn't go. You're too uptight." She accused him.

Squinting his eyes at her, Mingi cleared his throat.

"For your information, I got paired up with Yunho, Hongjoong and Jongho once for a group project and we actually keep in touch since then."

Y/N dropped her hands to the side, a loud slapping noise made against her thighs.

"When was this?"

"Around the time you went to that trip with your parents back home." He answered.

Her mouth dropped open.

"And you never told me this because.....?"

Mingi rolled his eyes.

"Because you would have teased me or would have said something about a nerd, a jock, a teacher's pet and an emo goth, whatever hell spawn demon he is, in a room together and actually getting along."

"I mean, I get them getting along, not so sure about a boring old prick like you though." She stuck her tongue out at him.

Mingi held his fingers up, threatening to flick her forehead if she continued, but Y/N flinched away.

"You ass. And here I was actually thinking of going and taking you so you can hit on your dream boy." He expressed as he began his walk back home, already deeming it late to stay behind on campus grounds.

Following suit and placing herself on his left, Y/N uttered out.

"He's not my dream boy..."

"Really? Then why do you keep drooling over him and looking at him with googly eyes about to pop out of their sockets?" He inquired.

"He's just.....he's just a complex character. Full of mystery and shrouded in this dark aura that I want to get past and see what's behind it...."

She hesitated even though she was supposed to be answering a question. She felt kinda stupid for thinking like that, making Hongjoong seem like some type of enigma when in reality, he could just be a normal person like all the other people that walked past her on the streets. Her friend didn't judge her though, owing some of her curiosity to her psychology major and passion. Slumping an arm around her, he playfully nuzzled his nose against her cheek, making her emit a half-whine half snort hybrid sound at his antics, trying to release herself from his grasp.

"You're so cute. Now come on. I have to take you shopping."

Not even bothering to ask if she had plans or needed to be somewhere else, Mingi linked hands with her and pulled her with him as he speedily walked in the direction of the nearest mall available.

"Explain to me why that is necessary Einstein? You always hated going shopping with me." She nearly tripped trying to keep up with his long strides.

"Because if you want to win emo boy's heart, you at least gotta start looking like his type." He called back at her.

"And what exactly would his type be?"

"Just trust me and leave it all to me."

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Y/N wasn't sure about trusting Mingi anymore as they made their way through a dense, misty and dark forest, the only illumination available being the moonlight that casted a blue tinted beam at their surroundings. Her head whipped with every strange noise that came from bushes or behind a tree. It was kinda chilly and the light breeze that whooshed past them had her legs shivering, making her regret wearing the distressed black shorts and fishnet tights under an oversized Scorpions tshirt that covered most of the shorts, making it look like a no pants look.

"Mingi? Are you sure about this?" She was only thankful of her purchase of some Dr. Martens 1460 black boots which helped her not fall or trip easily on the dirt road.

Mingi, who was an even more scared baby than she was, was fumbled with the sleeves of his pullover hoodie.

"Yeah, Yunho sent me directions and it should be around here somewhere..." He tussled his hair back, trying to hear or distinguish any sound.

"Are you sure he didn't send you to his murder site?" She asked, looking around for any suspicious thing.

Right at that moment, a figure jumped out in front of them, causing both of them to start screaming in terror. Mingi in particular, pushed Y/N to the side and began running in the opposite direction.

"Well dang, he didn't even let me yell boo or something."

Y/N recognized the buff male in front of her as Choi Jongho, the running back of the football team. Giving her an apologetic look, he helped her up after Mingi accidentally pushed her onto the dirt. As she dusted the dirt off, Jongho looked at her band tee.

"Scorpions?" He pointed at it.

He uttered a small 'cool' before signaling her to follow him. Turns out, they were actually not far off from the location, which was actually an old abandoned 2 story summer house that resembled more a barn to her than an actual living space. Cars were all parked out around the area and music was blasting from speakers connected to who knows where. People who hung outside were either vaping their Juuls and chugging back bottles of Smirnoff or Mike's Hard beers, some already halfway to being wasted while others simply held it in their hands, hardly taking a sip as they scanned around trying to find someone to go back home with.

"Don't worry about Mingi. I'll go get him......eventually."

Hearing him snicker, Y/N was actually more worried about herself than Mingi. She only agreed to come because, as surprising as it was, he encouraged her to and knowing he'd be there by her side, being the only person she could stick to cause she did not know anyone else, gave her a little bit of courage. But not anymore after he just totally ditched her and left her alone in God knows where.

Seeing her shift around uncomfortably as they passed through a crowd of wild jumping people, Jongho laced his fingers in hers and brought her over to a more quiet side of the place, where 3 other people were standing around, chatting amongst themselves. Once the two huddled up close to each other saw Jongho and a mystery girl they'd never seen before, they began nudging and whispering among themselves, one of them chuckling under his breath. Hongjoong could already guess what his friend's conversations was about, but he simply rolled his eyes at their behavior and lustful gazes.

Until he turned his head and saw who it was next to Jongho. Then took out the red vape in from his lips and made it a point to exhale the fumes onto the younger member's faces.

"Yah! Hyung! What the hell?" His friend with cat like eyes remarked as he coughed and fanned away the cancerous smoke.

"Just cause you don't care about contracting lung's disease at an early age, doesn't mean San or I want any part of it." The other said.

"Wow. I'm impressed you actually know what contracting means Wooyoung." He smiled amusingly at his younger friend, who was not very pleased with his little joke.

"Hey guys! While trying to retrieve Mingi, I made a new friend." Jongho greeted them like a happy bunny as he held up his hand which was still holding Y/N's.

Hongjoong's eyes narrowed down at where they connected, an eyebrow raised at their physical contact as the hand that held his vape pen began fidgeting it rapidly between his fingers. Jongho of course was oblivious to the anger burning through Hongjoong's stare while Wooyoung and San caught on pretty quick and began debating whether to laugh or step in before bottles were thrown.

"Ok, so where is Mingi now?" San asked him.

"He ran off." Jongho shrugged.

Not wanting to miss the opportunity, Wooyoung pushed himself in between them both, effectively separating them as he pulled Jongho away.

"Great! Now we gotta go find him before he gets lost."

Looking back at Y/N, he waved.

"Hi! I'm Wooyoung, I'm bi and goodbye! You seem nice. Hopefully there's a next time."

Y/N blinked at the flamboyant boy's introduction and exit, wondering if it was planned or-

"No he didn't actually mean to rhyme. He's cute but too dumb to make up a poem on the spot." San answered the question on her mind.

Looking back at Hongjoong, he smiled mischievously.

"Hongjoong definitely can. He's into dark poetry and that Edward Pie guy. Have him recite something to you."

Hongjoong fumed at San who merely patted his shoulder and placed his cup in Hongjoong's hand before sauntering off with the other two.

"Edgar Allen Poe you fucking moron!" Hongjoong yelled as he lifted the cup up, tempted to throw it at him.

Y/N held her hand to her lips for a brief instant, trying to suppress the smile threatening to form across her lips. Hongjoong sighed as he stared down at the contents in the cup, swirling it around casually before holding it out to Y/N.

"Want some?" He offered.

"Umm....sure?"

She didn't even know why she accepted it. She'd never drank before in her life and for all she knew, it could have been laced with something. But not wanting to look like a little priss, she took a deep breath before trying to gulp down whatever alcohol was inside. It burned down her throat and she spat some of it back in the cup, unable to hide the cringing expression at the strong liquor.

"What. Is. That?" She questioned as she wiped the liquid that was on her chin and lips.

Hongjoong snorted as he responded that it was straight vodka, making Y/N feel embarrassed to have let him see such a spectacle from her.

"You're not much of a drinker are you? Or hardly one right?"

Her sheepish look was a dead giveaway which had Hongjoong laughing slightly, his lips parting slightly. Y/N was not only surprised to hear him laugh for the first time, but was intrigued when she saw something metallic on his tongue, making her wonder if he was chewing on something. Noticing her curious gaze, Hongjoong's lip curled up at one corner.

"Oh. That's just a piercing."

He had no qualms and simply stuck his tongue out to let her see the silver bar that was plunged through his tongue, each end having a round ball.

"Wow.....that's impressive." She couldn't deny it was extremely attractive.

Hongjoong himself was just attractive in general. Standing there wearing his usual leather jacket, a black tshirt with red letters, and a red turtleneck peeking out from the top, covering his neck. His usual preference for ripped black jeans was not missing, only this time, he added a little flare by having a piece of red plaid fabric chained around his waist, making it look like a half-skirt look. It seriously made him more hotter than he already was.

"Yeah I know. It's even more impressive when I put it to work."

Pushing himself off the wall he was leaning against, he stepped closer to Y/N, one arm propping against the wall in front of her as he looked at her with hunger and desire in his eyes, those eyes that were once again covered with smoked out eyeliner, only this time he added a hint of red that really made them stand out more and seemed to lure you in and see deep in his soul.

"Wanna experience it first hand?"

She was so lost in his eyes, she almost didn't hear him, until she realized what he meant.

"Here?" She mouthed and gestured around them.

Hongjoong threw his head back and laughed.

"Obviously not here. I'm not like those people outside who are probably already getting to 2nd base in front of everyone."

"Oh....." Now she really felt her cheeks flush red.

Hongjoong patiently tapped his black colored fingernails on the concrete wall, waiting for her answer. She seemed to be debating withing herself so much, until her eyes fell on the patch of skin that was showing when his jacket sleeve rose up, letting her catch a glimpse of black ink that probably went up his arm.

"Listen, if you don't want to that's fine. I know when no means no-" He began to assure her.

"Ok." She quickly responded, interrupting his speech.

"Wait- you're serious?" He slumped his arm off the wall, quite shocked she'd agree.

She nodded. "Yeah."

When it was now Hongjoong who was standing quiet, Y/N giggled and leaned in.

"I mean...if you don't want to-"

She had no time to finish the sentence and his hands gripped her waist and pressed her against him, his breath fanning over hers, the strawberry scent of the vape pen still lingering in his mouth.

"Trust me, I've wanted to for a long time."

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As soon as the door to Hongjoong's room in the dorm clicked shut, the tension in the room seemed to thicken. Y/N gulped slightly as she realized this is really happening. Not that she didn't want it to, but to actually have Hongjoong standing in front of her, his eyes already undressing and fucking her, while his bottom lip was caught in his front teeth, was definitely not a reality her brain was fully convincing. It wasn't until Hongjoong's thumb grazed her bottom lip, making her exhale a tiny gasp, that it fully dawned on her what was going to happen.

"Don't worry babydoll. I promise you'll get breathless after I'm done with you."

Wrapping his hand on the back of her neck to tilt it slightly upwards, his lips came down and covered her own, pressing against them before slightly parting and covering them once more. He started out slow before turning it more intense, nipping down roughly at her top lip in an effort to get her to open her mouth for him. When she did, his hands cupped the sides of her jaw, thumbs pressed against her cheeks to keep her face from moving as his tongue poked out and slipped inside her mouth. A muffled moan protruded from her throat when Hongjoong rolled his tongue over hers, his tongue piercing grazing the roof of her mouth. He then began swirling his wet muscle around her own, letting her feel the cold metallic jewelry that was sending shocks down her body. When his hands released their hold on her face, they only did so to glide down her torso before snaking down underneath her shirt to cup the back of her shorts, his fingers digging into her ass cheeks, nails lightly raking across the exposed skin under the ripped hem.

Feeling like things weren't going fast enough for how needy she was growing, Y/N ran her hands across Hongjoong's chest, going up to his shoulders and sliding his leather jacket off them. Getting the hint, Hongjoong let it fall to the floor and soon his graphic tshirt followed suit, leaving him in his tight fitted red turtleneck that practically clung to his skin, his pectoral muscles that were well above average for someone his size perfectly outlined. As eye catching as it was, that wasn't what caught her attention. What kept her eyes trained on his chest was some weird thing poking out suspiciously.

He chuckled as he knew what she was curious about.

"Oh. That my dear doll, are another pair of piercings I got."

Y/N nearly drooled as he lifted his shirt off, not only revealing the hidden 11 abs he owned, but the arm sleeve tattoo that went from his wrist to a little bit above his right upper arm. On his left side, there was no tattoo on his arm, but instead on his ribcage. But the thing that made her squeeze her thighs together were the black colored metal pieces that were lined across his nipples. Unable to help herself, her hands reached out to touch them, but Hongjoong quickly stopped her.

"Ok doll, before you get ahead of yourself, at least one article of clothing has to come off your body." He smiled cheekily at her.

No hesitation, Y/N soon discarded her own shirt, tossing it somewhere on the room, leaving her torso covered with only her black lace bra that didn't exactly cover much.

"Fuck babygirl, where you hiding that all this- Oh, oh my!"

Hongjoong nearly fell back on his bed when Y/N pressed her face against his chest, her tongue darting out to lick around his pierced nipples. He swallowed as he collected himself, trying not to get too turned on as her tongue played around with the piercings, sometimes nipping at them. Hongjoong arched his back slightly, letting her take as much of him in her mouth as she pleased. The nipple that wasn't being made out with her mouth, was being pleasured by her hand, pinching and gently tugging at it.

"You can go as hard as you want."

Giggling darkly, he took her free hand and placed it on the erection poking out in his pants.

"I'll have you know I enjoy a little pain."

Making her squeeze down on it, Y/N could feel something odd, which prompted her to poke and grope him more fiercely. Wanting to satisfy her curiosity, Hongjoong unzipped his pants and pulled them down mid thigh to let her admire the last set of piercings he owned:

A Jacob's ladder running up the base of his dick and an ampallang pierced through the head.

"Holy shit...." Whether she said it out loud or not, Y/N didn't care. It was the most erotic image she had ever seen and she could not believe that in mere minutes, it would be inside her, no doubt destroying and tearing her walls apart.

Leaning in, Hongjoong sloppily kissed and sucked her jaw and down her upper neck.

"You're free to play with it as you wish doll. I got them for more than one reason. And that's one of them."

Not needing to be told twice, her hand wrapped around the base of his erect cock, her thumb running across his slit. Hongjoong hissed slightly when her hand began pumping him slowly, purposefully applying pressure to the silver metal adorning his length. Taking advantage of the his hazy state, Y/N returned to her previous task of playing with his nipple piercings. Hongjoong threw his head back at immense pleasure he was feeling, loving when Y/N would squeeze him a little to harsh or bite roughly at his nipples. He felt more intoxicated and high being painfully pleasured by her hand and mouth than with any THC chemical he'd ever introduce inside his system.

Without realizing it, he instinctively began bucking his hips up, wanting to chase the release that was building up inside him. Knowing what he wanted, Y/N lifted her head up and sucked on his neck, speeding up her hand movements.

"You gonna cum for me Joongie? Gonna cum all over my hand? Make a mess and soak my fingers with your dirty cum?" She taunted at him.

Unable to hold back especially after her dirty teasing, with a mutter of curses, he spilled himself all over her hand, some of it splattering onto her fishnets. Once he regained his senses, he looked down to find her looking at him with a shit eating grin.

"Heh......don't think you're in charge here doll. This is still my territory."

Swooping her up, she let out a little yelp when he tossed her onto his bed, immediately crawling in between her legs. After getting rid of his pants and briefs, his hands gripped on her belt loops to pull her shorts down. His eyes scanned her body, trying to decide on something. He hummed softly as his hand pressed down onto her clothed heat.

"I'm not going deny it, those fishnets do look remarkably sexy on you....."

With mock pity, he sighed. "Oh well."

Y/N gasped in horror as he tore a hole right in the crotch area, leaving the rest untouched. Opening his desk drawer, she widened her eyes when he took out a pocket knife and flashed it across her face.

"Relax doll. I like pain, but knife play isn't really my thing. On me or my partner."

After ordering her to stay still, she watched as he carefully cut on the sides of her lace panties, just enough to carefully slip them off her body without having to take off her tights. Although in any other situation she would have instantly closed her legs, she didn't feel like doing it this time. It turned her on and made her feel sexier to instead pry her legs open, letting Hongjoong peer down at her glistening folds that he caused, her hands running themselves down her chest as she bit down at her lip.

"Fuck! You're practically drenched already Y/N." Hongjoong cocked an eyebrow at her.

She only giggled before reaching behind her to unclasp her bra, slowly pulling the straps down before flinging it behind Hongjoong, letting it join the other pile of clothes scattered about. Hongjoong instantly became hard again, but as much as he wanted to bury his pierced cock inside her and fuck her senseless, there was still one thing he really wanted to do.

Positioning herself in between her legs, his hands gripped the back of her thighs. Looking back at her, he sent a wink her way before attaching his mouth to her soaking heat, causing her to jolt up at the sudden sensation. Knowing exactly how to get her head spinning, Hongjoong slid his tongue up her slit, making sure to drag the metal piece across her folds. It was unlike anything she felt before. Hongjoong already was demonstrating his powerful tongue skills, but the piercing just added a whole new sensation that had her shivering. She couldn't contain the moans spilling out her mouth when his tongue slipped inside her hole, her noises only turning louder when he flicked his tongue in a particular way that made the round metal tip thump against her clit. Hongjoong especially loved doing that little maneuver of hitting her clit with it.

When she felt herself about to burst, Y/N's hands clutched the sheets underneath her.

"Hong-Hongjoong I'm gonna- Aaah!"

The fire pooling in her lower abdomen broke free and rushed down, sending burning sparks up her body as her body trembled at the sensation. Pressing a hand down to hold her still, Hongjoong lapped up her her juices, moaning on her clit, the vibrations only serving to make her more sensitive to any move he made on her body.

When he felt she was ready, he swiftly sat up and positioned his pierced member at her entrance. Making sure to prep her, he got out a bottle of lube out of his drawer and poured some onto the tip of his fingers, spreading it around before inserting two fingers inside her. It had a slight cooling effect that made Y/N hum in pleasure, her mouth going slightly agape when he inserted a third finger, scissoring her out and overall making sure she was stretched out enough.

"Patience doll. I don't want to cause any unnecessary pain....."

She let out a whimper when he withdrew his hand and slapped her clit.

"That much." He finished.

Propping herself on her elbows, she kept her gaze in between their legs. She let out a cry when Hongjoong's head slipped inside her, the round tips of the ampallang piercing stretching her hole in a delicious burn. Next came the metal ridges that scraped against her lower walls, it was an absolutely exhilarating experience. Hongjoong himself let out a groan when he fit himself inside her tight and warm cavern.

"Jesus babydoll. When was the last time you had a good fuck?" He gripped her hips, trying to keep himself from moving just yet.

"Too f-fucking long." She disclosed, her head falling back against the pillow in a disappointed look.

"Well don't worry babe. I'll make sure to fuck any name out of that brain of yours, you won't even remember your own."

Snapping his hips up, he began a rather hard and fast pace, making sure to angle himself so he hit her g-spot. Y/N's hands held onto his arms, choked breaths and screams coming out of her mouth as she began drowning in the immense pleasure he was giving her. The way the metallic piercings raked against her walls every time Hongjoong thrusted in and out of her was indescribable. At first it felt strange and slightly painful, but soon it became addicting, almost to the point of being overwhelming.

Hongjoong took notice of the way her lips parted whenever the ladder piercing grazed at a particular spot.

"You're enjoying this my angel? Like being fucked by my pierced dick?"

Licking his hand, he dropped it down to spank her throbbing and swollen clit, grinning almost sadistically when she shrieked out at his pleasurable torture.

"Do you just enjoy being used like a dirty little hole? Isn't that what you are in the end? Just a filthy hole for me to fuck as I like?"

The corners of her eyes began spilling out tiny droplets of tears as his hand continued his assault on her clit, slapping it until it turned a bright shade of pink. Feeling the intensity build up yet again in the pit of her stomach.

"Hongjoong! I'm gonna cum!" She warned him.

Snaking his hand to grip her neck, Hongjoong sped up his thrusts, fucking her in a frenzy, sending her into a mental state of pure euphoria as he cut off part of her breathing. Y/N shut her eyes as a violent orgasm ripped through her body, her body thrashing and quivering under Hongjoong's. With clenched teeth and furrowed eyes, Hongjoong completely shattered on top of her, spilling himself inside her clenched walls that were milking him past his breaking point. Releasing his grip on her neck, he collapsed on top of her body, his hands spread out to keep himself from dropping all his weight on her.

"Oh my god!" He panted harshly as he tried to collect his breath and thoughts.

She was in no better state than he was, hair all disheveled, pussy still throbbing and her chest heaving up and down as her mind went blank. She only came to her senses when she felt Hongjoong get up and go out of his room, leaving her confused.

Did he regret it? Did he not enjoy it? Was he going to ask her to leave?

It turns out it was none of the above since he came back with a packet of wet tissues.

"You ok?" He asked, looking at her with concern.

After being reassured that she was fine, he plucked out some of the tissues and began wiping between her legs and thighs.

"Ok, these gotta go."

Hongjoong ripped more of the already destroyed fishnet tights and got them off her body, letting it hit the floor.

"Not like I would have used them again." Y/N agreed.

After cleaning both her and himself up, they both stayed quiet. Clearing her throat, Y/N made way to get up.

"Guess it's my cue to leave.."

"Wait don't go!"

Grasping her wrist, he pulled her back onto the bed, making her slightly straddle his lap. Looking up at her with such tender eyes, he offered:

"Stay the night. I don't want you to go just yet."

He said it with such a pleading tone that Y/N didn't have the heart to refuse his request. She just allowed him to place her beside him on the bed, his chest pressed against her back as one of his arms wrapped around her. She closed her eyes and slowly began drifting off to sleep. She was halfway gone when she felt Hongjoong wrapped something cold around her neck. Opening her eyes, she reached up and felt leather on her skin.

"What's this?" She questioned as her finger toyed with whatever was dangling from the device.

Hongjoong smiled fondly at the black choker strapped around her neck.

"Don't worry about it. Just wear it for me..."

His hand traced the red heart pendant dangling from the choker, the letters 'KHJ' engraved on the center of it.

"So everyone can see that you're all mine now."

✽+†+✽――――✽+†+✽✽+†+✽――――✽+†+✽

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rockbandsrockfans · 2 years ago

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The Story of My MCR Concert

First of all, I was SO HYPE FOR THIS SHOW, obviously. Years of delays, and then Gerard’s costumes started to hit the Internet, and it just so happened that my anxiety was under control for the first time in a long time. This was going to be LIFE-CHANGING.

Interestingly, the tickets were actually a birthday present from me to my sister, who was the first one of us to discover MCR, but she doesn’t get into bands like I do (meaning she doesn’t learn EVERY SONG and learn the whole background and lore of the band), so I think the songs she knew consisted of like Cancer, Black Parade, and I’m Not Okay. No shade at all, we just like things in different ways!

But here’s some shade, my sister is always late. So she took forever getting ready AS ALWAYS, and while she did that, I started to scheme. I happened to have a… specially infused beverage hidden away in the fridge, and I remembered a mini disposable plastic water bottle rolling around on the floor of my car. I snuck outside, got the water bottle, snuck back in, washed it, and transferred enough beverage into the bottle to deliver what I estimated to be about 15 mg of Substance. I marked that on the bottle, then added the same amount again. Two equal doses.

I was driving and generally in charge of making sure the night went well, which I’m tempted to say was a mistake but really, it wasn’t. You’ll see. I finally dragged my sister’s ass to my car, made sure we had our vaccine cards and everything else we could possibly need in my transparent plastic bag, and hit the road.

And hit the traffic. Yeah, as it turns out, the Tacoma Dome area gets kind of busy when fucking My Chemical Romance is playing. In my defense, I’d only ever been to the Dome as a younger teenager, and my mom took care of everything and did the driving that time. Luckily, neither my sister or I had any need to see the opening bands, and thank god honestly because that would’ve stressed me the hell out.

Against my sister’s advice to drive more into the city sector to find somewhere to park on the street, I turned into the longest goddamn line of cars to get into a Dome parking lot. I told my sister hey, I brought us some beverage if you’d like to take yours now so it can start working. It’s 15 mg. We’ll be here for a while. She drank her half of the beverage and we continued chatting, complaining about the line, and listening to MCR.

The line moved up. Sloooooowly. I figured we were close enough that it was a good time to drink my half of the special beverage.

And then my sister started saying she was feeling it, and it had *only* been half an hour. I gave her a Nutrigrain bar. And I thought oh SHIT. I am driving the car. I estimated an hour for this substance to kick in. If it’s kicking in that fast, it will hit me while I am driving the car. And that is not safe.

So long story short, my sister is a lightweight.

Luckily, I remained sober while driving the car. It was JUST starting to hit as I was finally parking, and I thought the drama was over.

WRONG. The lady at the door (after ANOTHER line) wouldn’t take the tickets I had downloaded into my Apple Wallet, she needed the Ticketmaster barcode. What the fuck??? It didn’t say that anywhere! She forced us out of line with the other poor saps having this issue. And my phone wouldn’t load the Ticketmaster website! Thank fuck, my sister’s phone loaded it after a very tense few minutes and I was able to put in my account details to get to the barcode. We were in!

We were in, but my sister was starting to freak out, because again, apparently a lightweight. It’s worth mentioning that she started doing Substance WAY before I did and is overall much cooler than me. But it was very loud and the sensory shit was getting to her, and we’d been walking in circles around the Tacoma Dome’s interior looking for our seats. It’s hard as hell to find your section in there! She also wanted earplugs because I had my special chambered ones, but she’d forgotten to bring any. There was a help desk that gave her some for free, though, so that was one problem solved. But she was in sensory overload and overall way too high, and we really needed to find our seats.

We had shit seats. That was always the plan; they were cheap. But they were also way up in the air, so we climbed stairs and stairs and stairs and finally sat down after scooching past a bunch of people already sitting. I got a quick moment of rest and then had to start solving the problem of my tripping balls (exaggeration, not even accurate) sister. I decided she needed a pretzel and a water, and fast, so off I went, back past the people, down the stairs, and to a food vendor (no line this time!). Two pretzels with nacho cheese, one bag of kettle corn, two bottles of water, exorbitant prices, but I was just happy to be there. The substance didn’t hit me nearly as hard as my sis, for whatever reason, and I was feeling pretty awesome, if a little hungry.

Back up to our seats and my sister devoured her pretzel, which helped a lot with chilling her out. From there, everything was basically perfect! The show was obviously amazing, and I screamed myself hoarse. We were totally exhausted but so happy afterwards.

#long post #into a megaphone: I’M TALKING ABOUT WEED #honestly I just thought skirting around actually saying it was a funny bit #drugs tw #my chemical romance #mcr #mcr tacoma #Gerard Way #storytime

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anystalker707 · 4 years ago

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I'm here, love

Pairing: Ray x [fem] Reader Word count: 1 916 Genre: Comfort / Fluff Summary: Reader isn't handling it well when she goes with MCR for a tour for the first time, but Ray is always there for her. TW: Anxiety attack

Requested by anon

Tour has been going on for some time already, almost a month, but it actually feels like forever. All the agitation can be really immersive, turning the attempts of keeping track of time difficult, even more since we mostly follow a nighttime schedule due to the concerts. We’re almost always heading to a bar or club after the concerts, so it’s basically falling asleep at two in the morning to wake up at noon or something in the best days. Certainly not the best thing.

Today is thankfully one of the break days in which the guys don’t have any concert and we arrived to the next city earlier than usual, what means we’re lazing around for most of the time.

“��because he’s not here, duh!” Ray’s voice becomes audible as he leaves the bus, grinning as looking back at it and shaking his head after Mikey says something, though I’m not able to understand any of it. Only a small smile remains on his face whilst he approaches me, taking a seat on the ground with me. “Hello, love,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

“Hi.” I smile, pecking his lips, and put my phone down.

“What are you doing?” He raises an eyebrow, looking around for a moment like if trying to find what kept my attention until now.

“Nothing, really,” I say softly, leaning my head against his shoulder. “Do you want to go do something? I wanted to, but didn’t want to ask while you were busy with the others.” The thought of interrupting the four’s talk and probably attracting all that attention wasn’t exactly appealing, I’m secretly thankful he finally left the bus.

“Aw, you didn’t have to wait for all this time.” Ray’s eyebrows furrow lightly as he pecks my cheek. “And we could go look for a café or a restaurant, how does that sound? It’s almost lunchtime, after all.”

“Sounds good!” I smile, liking the opportunity of spending some time alone with Ray.

He seems just as happy as standing up and offering me a hand, which I take to help myself standing up. “So, how are you feeling? With the whole tour thing, I mean.” Ray wraps an arm around me when we start walking down the parking lot, concern laying under his apparently normal expression.

I hum, looking away for a moment. “Oh, yeah, I’m alright. I’ll let you know if I need anything, thank you.” I press a kiss to Ray’s cheek, trying to demonstrate my appreciation despite the subject making me tense up a bit.

Ray is more than aware of my problems with anxiety, already having helped me through its ups and downs, and both of us already predicted how the whole tour thing would interfere on it, mainly because it’s my first time tagging alone during one. We already had a hard time before the tour itself – I got too panicked at the whole thing since I barely knew how it would work –, hence he’s been worried and making sure of always checking on me.

Truth is that I’m not as alright as I’ve claimed to be. The tour has already reached my nerves and I can already feel this familiar buzzing under my skin, threatening to intensify, making me lose it yet again. It, however, won’t happen; I’ll not let that happen. Ray won’t even know.

We’re soon walking into a restaurant, the smell of food filling the ambient and, somehow, it feels good and bad at the same time. Not a surprise, since the anxiety usually has me either eating compulsively or not eating at all, so I think my body decided it’ll be better if I stay inside that bus for hours with an empty stomach, right?

We take a seat and place our orders – I balance my choice between something that my body won’t reject and Ray will not complain about, what seems to work.

“Y’know,” Ray breaks the silence between us, “what have you been thinking about watching us live?” He glances at me, expectant. His question doesn’t fail in making me smile since he’s probably referencing how I used to keep bugging him with questions about the tour concerts.

“Awesome, of course!” I grin, letting my eyes fall to my plate as I drag the food around for a bit. “It’s just amazing, I love it, seeing you playing is just…” I shrug, feeling my cheeks heat up whilst Ray breathes a chuckle, but I’m unable to look at him just yet. When I do glance at Ray, he’s grinning. “You know how much I like it.”

“I just wanted to check,” he says smugly – I snort, shaking my head playfully.

“Already regretting bringing me with you, tho?” I raise an eyebrow, finishing to eat and leaning back on the chair.

“Never!” Ray says indignantly, shooting me a look. “I’d have taken you with me before if I knew you wanted it that bad!” He pauses to take a sip of his drink. “Like, I missed you an awful lot and the tours tend to be fun. Though there are a few problems, but…”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” I press my lips together and nod as he does the same.

We sit in silence for a moment, only until Ray finishes eating and soon calls the waitress. She grins as coming closer, a block of notes in her hand and a pencil on the other. “Well, you two have ordered for…” she trails off, mumbling under her breath as scribbling a few things down on her paper before grinning and handing Ray the bill; he nods, reaching for his wallet. Meanwhile, the woman looks at me, wide eyes looking at me from up to down with that fake excitement. Okay. What’s wrong? Maybe she’d judging my clothes? Or that I’m with Ray?

I try to ignore the woman, turning to Ray. “Hey, I was thinking we could—”

“Keep the change,” Ray tells the woman as handing her the money, ignoring me. Fuck. “And do you know any convenience store or café nearby?”

The two engage into a conversation and maybe it’s the instability and stress due to the whole tour-anxiety thing or whatever, but I can feel my heart heavy due to it. My plan is to continue there, of course, leave with Ray so we can spend mor time alone with each other, a plan that I give up on as soon as feeling a sting in my chest. I just stand up and leave.

Why did Ray ignore me? What did I do wrong? He got tired or annoyed, perhaps. …Or, yet, I’m just overreacting. Hell, I know Ray wouldn’t do that to be in purpose because he is usually so loving.

A sigh escapes my lips as I glance back and I really want to come back – I would, if I wasn’t so far from there already. It’s the best to just give him some random excuse later.

Holy fuck, but, honestly, everything only went downhill from the moment I decided to tag along.

First of all, I panicked at the sole fact I was going to come with them to the tour then got extremely awkward during a whole week and half, barely talking with anyone asides from Ray – what got Mikey annoyed at some point, what I’m sure of even if everyone denies it. And then we went along with all the minor events, like me being the last one to get back to the bus, almost getting lost in the venue and simply being unable to talk to anyone asides from the band and the staff, among other inconveniences.

Everyone must be more than done with me, to be honest. And there’s still a whole other month before we can go home, I don’t think I’ll be able to go through all of this with the mess I am.

I sigh in relief at seeing the bus and am about to walk inside it when Gerard show ups out of seemingly nothing, looking around, but his attention quickly falls on me. “Oh, (y/n)— Hey, were you crying? Something happened?”

The question makes me freeze, just now noticing the tears threatening to slip from my eyes and consequently making me feel like all of my blood instantly drained to my feet. “I-I—” I stutter, unfortunately simply unable to finish the sentence, and end up just running away from there, going to an isolated spot of the parking lot to calm down. I don’t want anyone seeing me having another attack, make them even more annoyed and attract all that attention.

Air just escapes my grasp, seemingly impossible to continue in my lungs for longer than a few seconds whilst the tears simply do not stop, even if I don’t even want to be crying or anything, fuck off.

I take a seat on the grassed area, under a tree, and bring my hands up to my eyes.

Cleaning my mind is just impossible, I just keep thinking about how everyone is going to be shooting me these stupid concerned looks when I’m back to the bus and how I’m only going to continue being another source of stress to them during the rest of the tour. Ray should’ve just left me home as usual and—

“…(y/n), listen to me, (y/n)! I’m here!” Ray’s voice cuts through my thoughts and I can feel his hand around my wrist, the other one on my back. “Hey, baby, it’s okay. C’mon, breath with me,” he says softly before starting to set a breathing pace I can’t help but to stick to.

Hell, when did Ray even get here?

I’m getting better when my breath hitches in my throat at the thought I’m only annoying him and I can’t help but to let out a weak sob his time. Ray only starts to rub my back. Even if I’m crying, I do feel better than I did earlier, now slowly becoming more aware of my surroundings while all that filled my mind moments ago were these awful thoughts along with all the panic and worry.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper shakily, bringing my hands down to bury my face in the crook of his neck, trying to synch my breathing with his.

“You don’t need to be sorry, love,” Ray says softly, thumb running along the back of my neck in a weirdly soothing manner. “Don’t be ashamed of it or anything, this whole thing is really stressing. Even us had problems with it at first, so everyone understands how you must be feeling.” His voice helps me calming down, giving me something to hold onto to keep myself in reality asides from his touches.

“Thank you, then,” I reply, my voice still tight.

“It’s okay. I do it because I love you.” Ray pulls away lightly and smiles at me. His hands cup my cheeks, warm against them, whereas he wipes my tears away with his thumbs. “And I want to see you fine, okay?” He presses his lips against mine in a light kiss I’m thankful for. “Let me know about it the next time you feel like this, please.” A quiet sigh comes from him as he furrows his eyebrows at me, worry obvious there. “Are you feeling better now?” I nod. “Really?” he asks and I nod again, pecking his lips like if to prove it. “Okay…-“ he smiles, relieved, “-…how about a coffee now, hm?”

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moku-youbi · 3 years ago

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I didn't start this post as an album review a decade and a half too late...

But here we are. disclaimer that this is full of digressions and might not matter to anyone except for me. I'm not really interested in arguing about who does these things "better," like those critical at the time did. I love MCR just as much as FOB, and Green Day holds a special place in my heart, but lyrically Pete speaks to me the most, and guess what? I can love more than one band that does similar things for different reasons???

to this day, I do not understand how Folie a Deux was so roundly dismissed and/or hated on by FOB fans. Purists want to act like emo as a genre can't draw on or include anything else, which I've always found obnoxious as hell anyway, so maybe that's why I don't understand the hate. But it's particularly funny to me, because I think in a lot of ways this is one of the darkest albums lyrically with a lot of tragically, aggressively dismal outlooks from Pete on his mental health and suicidal ideation. It's some of his most honest, rawest truths, but because of the music it's set to, his fans accused him of selling out instead of listening to what he was saying.

Songs like "27" (so named for the infamous 27 Club, which Pete was just slightly past at the time of writing it), "(Coffee's for Closers)," "Tiffany Blews," "What a Catch, Donnie," "w.a.m.s.," "20 Dollar Nosebleed," and "West Coast Smoker," (over half of the 13 song album) deal heavily with themes of lack of self-worth, the vicious cycle of drug use to deal with depression(both legal and illicit), conflating mental illness with talent, lack of control over his own life, struggling with feelings ungrateful in the face of fame (what does someone so famous/wealthy/well-loved/good-looking have to complain about anyway, cry-baby?!), being accused of using his mental illness as a prop, or faking it for notoriety, unable to find a human connection or not being able to hold onto it when he does, and on, and on, and on, all laced through, sometimes subtly, sometimes overtly, with this idea that he doesn't know how to continue living, wants something desperately to show him how to continue living.

It's someone screaming for help, and given that Pete later discussed much of the inspiration coming from his feeling of the inevitability of the band's breakup, it's no wonder. These things are lyrically explicit or discussed in depth in interviews: He saw Fall Out Boy as the thing that had kept him alive past 27 (Pete and his management legitimately thought he would not live past that age). He saw Patrick as someone he was very close to, who understood him, something he regularly says feels impossible to him (what a match/I'm half-doomed, and you're semi-sweet). And he saw it falling apart (two songs acknowledge how tired they're getting in their first lines, "The (shipped) Gold Standard" and "20 Dollar Nosebleed" with Sometimes I wanna quit this song and become an accountant now/But I'm no good at math and besides the dollar is down and Have you ever wanted to disappear/And join a monastery, respectively). In "Tiffany Blews," Pete tells us he's A caterpillar that got stuck/Mr. Moth, come quick with any luck/A long walk to a dark house/A roman candle heart keep us far apart. He'd made it halfway through this transformation into something or someone else, maybe someone healthier or at least past self-destructive tendencies, and now he's stuck. He doesn't know what's coming next, but he needs it fast because he doesn't know if he can hold on for it. (Slightly off-topic, but I can't help but wonder how seeing Panic! at the Disco's split might have fucked him up over it even more--thank fuck things went much better for Fall Out Boy in that regard...)(If this is all getting you down, just remember the hiatus ended, and we have several beautiful albums that followed.) (Also off topic, but if you're an FOB fan and haven't listened to Pete's hiatus band's work, you are seriously missing the fuck out. I'll do a post on that later...)

But FOB fans are notoriously hard to please, something Pete acknowledges frequently on this album as well as others (on "She's My Winona" Patrick sings, Even the young ones become irrelevant/They always bring up how you changed/Never the same person when I go to sleep/As when I wake up,) while simultaneously letting them know he doesn't give a fuck (All of "I Don't Care").

I mean, I get that it's not a perfect album, but it's so full of pomp and passion, with all these catchy, pop-y choruses that make you wanna sing along at the top of your lungs while racing through the city with windows down (yes, okay, I'm harkening back to Infinity on High, but "Bang the Doldrums" is one of my favourite songs ever, so...) Poignant and tragic or breezy and giddy or maybe sometimes just a little bombastic, but with style. It also is a preview of some of the internal conflict over creative control that led to their hiatus, and the lyrical and stylistic changes from the albums that came after it ended. You can almost divide FOB's sound into Before Folie a Deux and After Folie a Deux (others will argue that Infinity on High marks that change. I think it has a lot more in common with what came before than what came after, but that's just me. I could alternately see their career as 3 distinct eras with 1 being PR/EOwYG, TTtYG, FUtCT, 2 being IoH and FaD, and 3 being everything post hiatus thus far, but I digress even further...)

But there are so few artists out there that create an album with such a mishmash of songs and pull it off. I mean, the rock opera anthems, power ballads, funk, 60's and 70's pop and rock influences, and whatever the hell "20 Dollar Nosebleed" is (other than absolutely delightful, especially with Brendon's vocals in there merging beautifully with Patrick's)--ragtime? IDEK?

There's so much in these lyrics, from the self-aware struggle for authenticity given their wealth and fame ("Disloyal Order of Water Buffalo": imperfect boys/With their perfect ploys/Nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy). Pete's self-destructiveness, tempered by impending fatherhood: ("She's My Wyonna:" The only thing suicidal here is the door/We had a good run/Even I have to admit/Life's just a pace-car on death/Only less diligent/Hell or Glory/I don't want anything in between/Then came a baby boy with long eyelashes/Daddy said, "you gotta show the world the thunder!"), and maybe bitterness over the mockery made of his suicide attempts ("West Coast Smoker:" Don't feel bad for the suicidal cats/Gotta kill themselves 9 times before they get it right.) The politically invective ("20 Dollar Nosebleed:" The man who would be king goes to the/Desert the same war his dad rehearsed/Came back with flags on coffins and said/We won, oh, we won). The absolute tragic (All of "27," really, but starting off rough with, If home is where the heart is/then we're all just fucked/I can't remember.) And the just plain fun ("w.a.m.s.:" My head's in heaven/My soles are in hell/Let's meet in the purgatory of my hips and get well, and the absurdly whimsicality of "20 Dollar Nosebleed's chorus," Ba ba ba ba Benzedrine, bla bla bla Benzedrine/Ba ba ba ba ba Benzedrine, ahh.

I understand how scary it can be as a fan of a particular musician or band when their sound changes. I get it in a very profound way I'll touch on later in a different post, because this one is getting out of hand. But if we insist on our artists never changing, then we're just going to stagnate right along with them. Growth and change can be painful, but it can lead to beautiful things. Folie a Deux was Fall Out Boy going through growing pains, as individuals in their personal and professional lives, and as artists, both together and separately. I am as thankful for it as I am for everything they've created and shared with us. Even the few songs of theirs that aren't to my tastes. Either you accept that you aren't interested in authenticity so much as playing to your expectations, or you can't yell at them about betraying you.

#fall out boy #folie a deux #pete wentz is the lyricist of my heart #and Patrick the singer #even if I don't always understand what Pete means #or what the fuck Patrick is saying

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xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx · 5 years ago

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Colour Coordniation - Mikey Way x Reader Drabble

Request: Hey, are your requests open, if not than feel free to ignore this, but I was wondering if you could do like a x reader where the reader is colorblind with someone from IDKHOW or MCR. Thank you for all the amazing fics, sorry if this bothers you

Word count: 865

A/N: I forgot who I wanted to write this for, so I’m just randomly going with Mikey since it was his birthday this week. Hope that’s alright. Since I don’t know what it’s like not to see colours, I hope this is written okay. Also for the Anti-Flag heavy conversation, I just love them.

“What about this one?”

You turned back to the bathroom door through which Mikey stepped back into the room. He was trying out outfits for tonight’s show, and as his partner it was your ‘job’, as he liked to call it, to make sure he looked presentable. He always claimed it was because he was terrible in deciding on clothes, but you knew that was not true. In fact you suspected he just wanted you to compliment him. So you did.

“I love it,” you exclaimed, “it looks so much better with the jacket. And you can still take it off later on in the show.”

Mikey nodded happily, and looked down his body.

“Shoes?”

He stretched out his leg to you, presenting the boots he was wearing.

You nodded in approval.

“Looks great,” you agreed. “A little bit reminiscent of Danger Days!”

Gerard sat up from where he had been laying on the bed of the hotel room. Since you were staying with a friend who lived in this city, he and Mikey shared a room. Now that he looked over his brother’s outfit he frowned.

“Dude, if you wear the aubergine top with the red boots I’ll kill you,” he sighed and dropped back into his pillow.

“Aubergine and red,” you asked, looking at Mikey’s clothing. “Man, I may have an eye for textures and cuts, but you need to do the colour work.”

“I like the combi, though,” Mikey complained with a pout directed at his brother.

“You can’t go on stage like that,” Gerard disagreed, “And since (y/n) can’t see the colours, you need to be responsible. We did talk about that.”

You giggled at Mikey’s annoyed face, and reached over to his suitcase that was thrown open on the bed next to you.

“What colour is this,” you asked pulling another tank top out of the mess.

“Dark green,” Mikey answered.

“Olive,” Gerard corrected.

“Green shirt and red boots… not perfect, is it,” you shook your head remembering the colour wheel. Even if you could not see the colours, you knew which colours theoretically should match each other.

“Why don’t you just wear the black boots, and the black jeans as always, and then you can wear which ever shirt you like and I get to nap before the show,” Gerard groaned.

“Because I want to wear the red boots,” Mikey argued, shrugging of the leather jacket.

“You sound like an angry toddler,” you laughed, and searched for a shirt which you were pretty sure was completely black. “Alternatively you could wear all black and the red boots, a Chris Dos homage so to speak.” You held up the black shirt.

“Bassist solidarity,” Mikey laughed and took the shirt from your hands, showing it to Gerard.

“But for that you’d need a button up, wouldn’t you,” Gerard asked, giving the shirt a thumbs up.

Quickly Mikey pulled of the aubergine shirt he was still wearing, and slipped into the black one.

“Nah, he’d definitely need that one for Justin, but Chris sometimes wears t-shirts too, I think,” you shrugged, “and I mean… it’s not like anyone would notice. None of the fans realised Frank and Chris had the same haircut in 2004 either.”

“Oh shit, right,” Mikey laughed, “I’m still not over that.”

Pulling around on the shirt a little he spread his arms and presented himself.

“Perfect,” you grinned and got up to kiss him.

“Wonderful cosplay,” Gerard laughed, “wait, is that even considered cosplay?”

“Crappy cosplay at best,” you giggled. “Chris wears sneakers, not boots, I think.”

“How do you know so much about his outfit,” Gerard wondered, draping himself dramatically across the bed.

“Because I happen to be friends with him and I regularly see their shows,” you answered, poking your tongue out at him.

“I kinda find it doubtful that you know more about your friend’s stage outfit than about mine,” Mikey pouted, linking your hands with his.

“That’s just because you change it up all the time, darling,” you leant up and kissed him on the lips, causing him to drop the pouty façade, and break into a smile instead. “But whenever you feel like it, you really should wear the ‘Art is the Weapon’ or the ‘Mikey Fucking Way’ shirt again.”

“Cool, cool, now that we managed to dress Mikey into something presentable, would you two love birds minding to go out or something, I still wanna nap,” Gerard whined.

“Oh dear, he’s just like a toddler too,” you whispered to Mikey making him laugh.

“Hey, I heard that,” Gerard complained, and wrapped himself in one of the blankets.

“Yeah, let’s give this grumpy three years old some space,” Mikey agreed, “I saw an ice cream parlour down the street. What do you think?”

“That I really love ice cream,” you grinned.

“Perfect. Ice cream it is.”

Mikey grabbed his jacket and slipped it on, taking hold of yours with the other. And while Gerard was still mumbling how awfully cute you two were together, and how much he sometimes regretted setting you two up, because you were just disgustingly sweet together, Mikey and you left the room to go for an ice cream.

Taglist (if you want to be added or taken off, please let me know):

General: @justawriterinprogress @robinruns @jayloverthe3rd @lookalivefrosty @butterfycore @starduststy @vamp-void @angelevansfalls

MCR: @deadlovers

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ilooklikeaburntchickenugget · 4 years ago

Text

Only Mine (Pt. 6)

A/N: We’re using Taylor songs again because we love Queen Taylor. So these are not my works (obviously) but hers. However if you’ve never heard some of these I would highly suggest you check them out because all Taylor songs are absolute bops. Pairing: Gerard Way x F!Pop Star!Reader Word count: 3,541 Warnings: Swearing, implied sex (no smut though), arguing (minor)

You found the release of Fractious to be the most ironic days of your life.

You were in the media everywhere, selling only a few thousands copies less in it’s first week than your previous record. Which you were fine with, that was somewhat of the plan.

But you were no where to be seen. Hiding out in a new house you and Gerard had bought New Jersey for just under three million dollars. But no one knew about that purchase, other than your closest family and friends. Because no one needed to know.

The suspense of it all started extremely high, as you only announced the album 12 hours prior to its drop. And the world went insane, fans jumping to Twitter to go absolutely crazy over this new persona that they had already began to love, and some had already caught onto the ‘good girl gone bad’ idea.

You released the entire tracklist only three hours before the drop, and you were already stalking fan pages who began making theories about what it meant. There were already a lot of ‘THIS ONE’S ABOUTE GERARD’ and theories already popping up about him, which made you lightly smile knowing damn well a lot of it was.

The tracklist read: Blank Space I Knew You Were Trouble Style End Game I Did Something Bad I Know Places Out Of The Woods Dancing With Our Hands Tied Don’t Blame Me Getaway Car Clean

You smiled and lightly laughed once you refreshed your phone on the couch, your face and name at the top of iTunes and various other music providers promoting your new album.

“Congrats babe.” Gerard said from where he sat next to you, giving you a kiss and squeezing your thigh, “I’m proud of you.” “Thanks Gee.” You leaned your head onto his shoulder, “I love you. So much.” “I love you more.” He smiled down.

What made it all the better was how MCR was entering into their punk era, only making your album and new persona more believable. You had to admit, Gerard’s red and shaggy hair was really hot, and you were living for it, as you had told him a million times.

And you knew how much he loved your new era. As much as he genuinely loved the real, bubbly you (which is of course why he married you) he continuously admired your new all black look, managing to wear skin tight jeans and short shorts with more crop tops than usual and leather jackets galore. And you can’t forget how many pairs of Doc Martins you had, plus Louboutin boots all for the red bottoms. You basically looked like a filthy rich home wrecker, AKA the look you were going for.

But at home and in private you were the same old Y/N, always letting your natural hair fall into its regular ways, with little to no makeup and not ashamed to wear whatever you wanted.

What seemed to put the cherry on top to this new era was the newest addition to your family, AKA a black french bulldog named Rocko the two of you got. He was a tornado of chaos who would run around the house with his dozens of toys, taunting you and Gerard with them as if to show some form of superiority that he clearly lacked. You treated him like he was a newborn baby, constantly. You bought him clothes, beds, and toys, letting him sleep with you and Gerard despite your husbands protests about how he “took up too much room”. To you, the little canine could do nothing wrong.

That was until he chewed up your favorite pair of shoes, which just oh so happened to cost multiple hundreds of dollars. Gerard was furious at his actions, complaining that there was no reason for him to do so with the countless amount of toys he already had. You were mad at first too, but after only a few seconds of the pup giving you his eyes of sympathy you forgave him and moved on as if nothing happened. Gerard was still in his state of anger though.

“Oh, look, the designs for the tour outfits came in.” You smiled from where you laid on the couch, checking emails on your laptop, Rocko at your feet sitting between you and Gerard who was reading a book. You opened up the file to be greeted with all dozen outfits, which were beyond perfect. Gerard looked over, interested in the topic. “I like that one.” You pointed to one especially scandalous duo of tiny shorts and an even smaller top that could have been easily mistaken for a bra if it wasn’t for the thicker material on the all black set with black tights. “It makes me look like a whore.” Gerard nearly spat out his coffee.

“But you’re not a whore.” “Yeah, well, my alter ego is.” You smiled. “And you made her that way.” You looked up at him from quickly, “Take that as a compliment.” “How is me turning my wife into a whore a compliment?” He asked, puzzled.

“Just take it as one.” You huffed.

“I do think you’ll look bad ass in it though,” He remarked, returning to his book.

“Awww, thanks babe.” You blushed, “Maybe I’ll ask them to make you a matching outfit.” You lightly laughed. “Haha, very funny.” He rolled his eyes.

“It sucks we’ll be touring at the same time.” You sighed, “I miss being able to see you and the guys more.” “Yeah I miss you too,” He sighed as well, “And Ray does too.” You lightly laughed.

“Ray’s coming to the first show, right?” You asked, looking up at Gerard. He nodded.

“He cleared all of his schedule to go and he’s pumped.” You smiled.

“Good.” You closed your laptop, climbing over to give Gerard a kiss, which he happily accepted and did the same back. “Somedays I wish you kissed me the way as you do Frank.” You lightly smiled, letting go as he chuckled.

“I mean, I could.” He smiled at you, running his hands through your hair, “But that’s more aggressive and in the moment. I prefer to savor the kisses I have with you, let you know how much I love you.” You smiled, lightly rolling your eyes.

“You’re so sappy sometimes, Gee.” You responded, “But I love it.”

That night, as you were going to bed, you stopped in your mirror momentarily to take a look at yourself. You had gained 25-ish pounds since your break from the spotlight, still recovering from your ED. Your doctor said that you were healthy now, but some of the fatrolls that fell on your sides and hip dips as well were starting to bother you. And your stomach still had that bit of blub that you were never very fond of.

Gerard walked past you in the bathroom, immediately getting the memo. “Am I too fat?” You turned around and asked him, his face turning to a form of ridicule.

“You’re a fucking goddess.” He said looking you up and down, “So no.”

“Are you sure Gee-” Before you could finish, he grabbed your hand and practically dragged you to bed where he pushed you down with ease beneath him, giving you a searing kiss.

“You’re fucking gorgeous and the most beautiful woman alive. If you say one more thing about you not being perfect I’m going to frame every photo of you in every inch of this damn house so you know just how incredible you are.” “Fine.” You sighed reluctantly. “Now say it with me,” He began, “I, Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N-Way am perfect.” You sighed, choosing to go with it.

“I, Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N-Way am perfect.” “Good girl.” He said with another quick kiss. You lightly laughed, rolling over to your side of the bed to give Gerard his. You took your hand, running your fingers through his messy hair as the two of you stared at each other.

“After these two tours, I think I want to take a break.” You admitted, saying so above a whisper. He lightly nodded. “Maybe we can start a family.” He nodded again. “And settle down.” He gave you a kiss on the nose.

“That sounds perfect.”

-Time skip because I’m lAzY-

You were on stage doing what you do best, simultaneously swaying your hips to the music and going along with some of the choreography, as if the skin tight black and sparkly body suit and above the knee black boots weren’t enough.

As usual, you would look over to your husband where he was in the VIP section and sing to him, a smile plastered on his face. You would occasionally look over to see both the approval of your family, and friends, including Ray who seemed to be having the time of his life dancing and singing the lyrics.

The show was going absolutely perfect, it was bigger than any other that you had ever done, a larger stage, larger screens, larger everything. Even a larger crowd with over 100,000 people for your first show on tour. You could hear the audience echo your lyrics, jumping up and down judging by the movements of their light up wrist bands.

You of course played a few songs off of your previous album, doing a few acoustic with just you and the crowd which were some of your favorite experiences and moments. You also did a quick speech thanking all of your loyal fans who waited for you to come back with new music, despite the long period of time where you were no where to be seen.

After the finale, you ran back with a huge smile still on your face with your team, drinking some water constantly to hydrate yourself. It only took you a few moments in the back hallways of the stadium before you saw your husband at one end, smiling at you. You smiled back, running up to him and clinging your arms around him. He hugged you back, giving you a quick kiss. “You did great.” He whispered with a huge smiled, “I’m so proud.” “Thanks.” You smiled back, giving him another kiss. The two of you walked away, arms around each other as you leaned onto him. You tried to keep PDA to a limit, especially since the documentary was actively being made and was recording everything.

Once you were back in your private dressing room where no one else was, he gave you an even bigger hug, swinging you around and you lightly squealed. “You’re just so good.” He laughed.

“Thanks.” You smiled at him, letting go to go and take off your makeup at the chair. “I just gotta meet a few fans then we can go back to the hotel.” You told him through the mirror and he nodded.

“Y/N?” You heard your assistant knock at the door. “Hey, Betty.” You smiled up at her and she smiled back.

“I assumed you would want Rocky with you.” She said, putting the small black dog and he ran up to your chair.

“Ah yes,” You smiled down at him, picking him up and giving him a bunch of kisses on his little face, “Thank you.” You told her and she nodded, “No problem.” She closed the door back. You held the small dog in your lap, finishing off your face and hair before getting up and putting him down to change into regular clothes from your stage outfit.

“Gee?” You asked and he hummed, looking up from his phone, “Could you unzip me?” You asked and he nodded, getting up to do so. Usually Gerard would pull something after that, making it less PG, but you shot him a quick glare warning him not to do anything, so he didn’t.

You quickly replaced your stage clothes with a pair of jeans and sweatshirt, turning around to see Gerard still staring at you, wide eyes. “Oh please,” you sighed at him, “We’ve been together for over eight years Gee, handle yourself.” “Sorry, it’s just really hard to.” He tried to defend himself, you rolled your eyes.

“I’ll be back soon, babe.” You smiled, giving him a peck on the lips before excusing yourself.

The meet and greet went by as always, taking about half an hour before you said bye to everyone, taking photos, and then went back to Gerard. He was still on his phone on one of the couches in the room, Rocko by his feet. “Ready to go?” He asked, looking up, and you nodded grabbing your phone and backpack.

On the way out you couldn’t stop smiling, hand in hand with Gerard going in one of the large black SUVs, you going in first, then Rocko, then Gerard. “How’re you feeling?” Your husband asked and you just smiled.

“Great,” You admitted, taking a sip from your water, “Everyone loved it.” He gave your thigh a squeeze and looked at you.

“It was definitely pretty bad ass.” He smiled and you lightly laughed.

You had walked into your suite, setting your bag and the dog down, placing him in his bed (in the living room part of the room) while Gerard grabbed him a bowl of water. You gave the dog a quick good night kiss, resorting to your own room where Gerard followed, closing the door behind you.

Almost immediately your lips were clashed together, his hands on your waist as he swiftly put you on the large plush duvet of the bed, moving down to your collarbone and neck.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked for only a brief moment, as a double check. You shook your head violently.

“No,” You sighed out, “Please no.” He smiled down at you connecting your lips against. “Whatever you want, sugar.”

-Another time skip-

You wouldn’t have ever known if it wasn’t for the insane amount of fatigue and throwing up you were going through, only a month into tour. Initially you could’ve sworn it was just a cold turned to maybe the flu, as many of the symptoms you were having would go away within a few hours, so you were ready for show time.

But here you sat in your hotel room, curled up on the bed with Rocko next to you, your mind completely empty as you stared into the thin air, Betty had run to the nearest pharmacy. What were you going to do on tour? Fans would figure it out easily. But what would you tell Gerard?

Once Betty came back she gave you a somber, almost apologetic smile handing your the small bag. You thanked her, closing the door and going into the bathroom.

You stood over the bathroom sink, your hands gripping the granite edges for dear life as you stared down at the three tests. All positive. It took you a few minutes of staring, rocking back and forth, for everything to sink in.

This was not how you planned it, it was never supposed to go like this. You and Gerard were going to take a break, settle down, have your first child and be together all through your pregnancy. Now you were both on huge tours promoting your new work, away from home for at least the next five months.

You could feel warm tears stream down your cheeks, a small sniffle coming from your nose as you grabbed your phone. Reluctantly, you pressed on your husband’s name, pressing the small phone icon displayed underneath it. You put your face up to the screen slowly. Only a few rings and he answered.

“Hey Y/N/N,” He said, “What’s up.” It took you a few seconds, but you immediately bursted into sobs. “Baby? What’s wrong?” He spoke up, voice with lots of concern.

“Gee,” You began, sniffing again through the sobs, “I’m um- I’m pregnant.” You said. No one spoke for the next few seconds, complete silence on both ends of the line.

“Sweetie,” He said in a light voice, a small laugh following afterwards, “That’s great!” “No, Gerard, it isn’t.” You snapped, “We had all of this planned out perfectly, no one was going to know unless we wanted them to. But no, in the beginning of a fucking world tour this has to happen.” You raised your voice, “And I get it, this is gonna be a fucking walk in the park for you because you’re not here, and you don’t have to play in front of over 50,000 people every night in body tight suits. And you’re going to be separated from your pregnant wife. Life’s probably fucking perfect for you.” You weren’t sure what had gotten into you, but whatever it was it wasn’t pretty.

“What?” He asked, “You say it like we never wanted this. Sometimes things don’t go to plan Y/N.” He snapped back.

“Well they have to in our world Gerard!” You yelled, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down, “We have our lives set out for the next six months. And this is a big deal, and something we can’t do right now.”

“So are you going to get an abortion? Are you going to put it into the adoption system?” He yelled back. You took a few moments to think.

“No.” You admitted, barely above a whisper, “Gee, I’m sorry.” You began sobbing again, your sad feeling taking over any angry one.

“No, sugar, I am.” He clarified with a sigh, “You’re going through a lot and I should be supporting you, not arguing.” “Well I kinda started it.” “And I shouldn’t have continued it.” He responded. “Honey, we’ll figure this out.” He insisted, “We’ll talk to your tour manager and everyone who needs to know, we’ll figure something out. Some way to hide it.” “Okay.” You said somberly.

“Give me a few minutes,” He said, “I’m going to figure out a way to get to you.” “Gee, you’re booked for the next fews months on tour.” “And so are you, but you’re also carrying our child right now.” He spoke back, “We’re going to figure it out, okay? We’re going to have a kid, and start a family, maybe a little off track from what we intended, but this is what we’ve wanted, right?” You nodded despite him not seeing you.

“Yeah, of course.” You calmed down. “This is what we’ve wanted.”

It took a full week for a plan to be made. A week of unnecessary stress and anxiety for everyone on your team who was high enough on the roster to know about the pregnancy. Not even your families or friends knew, everything right now was business.

Gerard managed to fly in during a three day break the band had, consoling your emotions during the time as you two began to discuss personal plans. There was a lot of crying, both tears of sadness and joy, as you two began to discuss where you would live most of the time, which room the baby would take, how to even handle a child.

You already knew the baby’s name, which could go for either a boy or girl: Shiloh Monet Way. You were still very unsure about planning to have a baby, but since your tour would end when the third trimester began, you would have at least a few months to plan and figure out everything.

Gerard had already talked to the guys and their managers about pushing back some of the dates so there was a month break for him to be home around the baby’s due date. At the very least he wanted to be with you while giving birth, but he also wanted to help both you and the baby recover.

New outfits and plans to completely hide your pregnancy were already in the working with your teams. It was like a completely undercover operation to keep both you and your child’s privacy to a fine tune. And of course. Gerard and the guys promised to not say anything at all, even a hint towards you being pregnant wouldn’t be dropped.

“I say we wait to tell our families and friends,” You admitted to your husband, the two of you on the hotel bed getting ready to go to a sound check. “Just in case anything happens. I mean, we have to tell our teams and the guys and stuff, which we did, but no one else.” He nodded.

“Just not for too long,” He said, “Or at least once we know that baby’s developing fine.” You nodded and sighed.

“I was hoping having our first child together wouldn’t be this stressful.” You admitted, almost shamefully in a way.

“It’s okay, sugar.” He put his hand on your thigh and gave it a light squeeze. “We’re going to make the best of it, okay? You have a little less than five months left on your tour and then I get to take a break. This’ll work out just fine.” You nodded, placing your head on his shoulder as you knew he was right.

“You make everything better, Gee.” You said, playing with his hand as he placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“I’ll do it for you, sweetheart.”

#gerard way #my chemical romance #gerard way x reader #mcr gerard #my chem #my chemical gee #my chemical gerard #my chemical romance x reader #gerard way fanfiction #mcr

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yourcoffindoor · 5 years ago

Text

Bulletproof Heart Pt.2

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Prompt: Request from Anon- “ could you write one where the reader is a rock singer and they and mcr are on warped tour together, and they both lowkey like each other but think they’re both out of each other’s league, and find out that they’re both secretly into nerdy stuff + maybe getting together?

TW: Mentions of an abusive relationship.

AN: The plot thickens. Sorry for the delay in uploading <3

Enjoyyyy <3

That night after everyone had stumbled back to the bus in a tipsy stupor, you couldn't shake the thought of your encounter with Gerard from your brain. And what's more, you hated yourself for it. For awhile you tossed and turned, hoping the unwelcome feelings you had would fade to nothing so that you could fall asleep at last.

But your curiosity got the better of you, and there was only would person who could give you the answers you were looking for.

"Hey Gavin, are you still conscious?" you whispered from your bunk. You heard the rustle of sheets moving in response.

"Hmmm?" a low and sleepy sound of acknowledgement answered.

"I'm just wondering...what do you know about Gerard Way?"

As soon as the words left your lips, Gavin's curtains swung open with superhuman force.

"Y/N are you in love with Gerard Way?!" Gavin's voice was no longer tired, having morphed into a sharp and excited whisper. In addition to being the band's social butterfly, he always knew the gossip about everyone within a 20 mile radius.

"Christ, really Gavin? We only spoke for like fifteen minutes."

"So it was like a love at first sight situation?"

"You are so annoying, I swear to god."

"Do you want info or not?" he threatened.

You sighed. "Fine, yes I do."

Gavin cleared his throat as if preparing for a presentation. "OK, so everyone has something good to say about him, seems like a really genuine guy. I've heard he was in a long term relationship for ages, but its been broken off for awhile now. "

"Hmm," you murmured, trying to sound indifferent, "yeah he seems like a sweet guy."

"Yeah and every girl with a pulse seems to be after him. You got some competition out there." he teased. "But seriously, if you're interested you should go for it. You deserve to be happy, Y/N. It's been three years since...you know who."

Gavin didn't say his name, but he had said enough to bring on a wave of sad memories. "Thanks. I'm uh, feeling pretty tired, so... I'm just gonna get some sleep."

"G'night." Gavin said softly, as if aware he had brought out long buried and very unwelcome feelings.

You rolled over in your bunk, pulling your blankets up over your head, unwilling to dwell on the memories that had been drudged up by only a few words. Three years ago. That's when you finally had the strength to break it off with Alex.

You were a different person when you met him. It was your first relationship, and you were naive and forgiving, unable to see the dozens of red flags that should have made you run away from it all.

You had answered an ad that he had posted asking for potential band members for a punk band he was forming. It had been your dream to pursue music, and you responded right away, hoping you'd hit it off. You weren't expecting Alex to be so damn attractive, and when your audition was successful, it was only a matter of time before a relationship began to develop between you.

He was older than you, more experienced, and eager to take you under his wing where he could have the most control. You mistook his over-protectiveness as a sign of love, and he slowly cut you off from people outside of the band, leaving you isolated and dependent on him.

Eventually he would get angry if he saw you speak to any other man. He took your phone regularly so that he could look through it, questioning you about anything he didn't like. The fights you had were loud and ugly, your voices rising and crashing like cantankerous bursts of thunder. Eventually, they became violent.

You were stuck in a cycle of affection and fear, held there as if caught in a tide that would never bring you back to shores of sanity. But you did eventually find the strength to get out when your friend reached out to you, offering you a place to stay. You packed your bags that night and didn't look back.

Your band was not just a career for you, it was a symbol of healing, proof that you were able to overcome it all and strike out on your own. You rolled over in your bunk, and pushed the unwanted memories aside, reminding yourself of the promise you had made to be the best damn band on Warped tour. Nothing was going to change that now.

x x x

Your first performance went by in a haze of adrenaline and sweat. The crowd was young and eager to see what you had to offer, and you were all to happy to give them something they'd remember for a long long time.

There were several people in the crowd who were fans already, proudly wearing your band's shirts and mouthing along to all of the lyrics. Others were slowly converted, headbanging enthusiastically by the end of your set. When the band's final song was met with deafening hoots and cheers, you'd felt like you'd accomplished your mission.

"We fucking killed it!" Gavin declared as he slumped in the nearest chair, exhausted.

"The crowd was good, huh?" you beamed as you wiped the sweat from your face, still breathless from your onstage antics. "Let's hope they're all like this."

"Can't get any worse than our first show ever, remember?" Liz laughed as she recalled the groups early days. "Never had so much beer pelted at me in my life."

People milled about as you and your band mates caught your breath. A few musicians from other bands popped in to say hi and let you know that they enjoyed your performance.

"Hey you actually made it!" Gavin jumped up from his chair as he noticed a new face entering the backstage area. "Guys did you meet Frank last night? From My Chemical Romance?" A man with wide hazel eyes gave a quick wave from the the entryway.

"This guy was goin on and on about how you guys were the best new band on warped tour. Had to see if he was just full of shit."

"He always starts bragging when he's drunk." you rolled your eyes.

"Well, I'm glad he did. You guys put on a pretty kick-ass show. Plus Gerard really wanted to check it out."

Your heartbeat, which had only just settled from jumping around on stage, began to speed up again.

"Gerard?"you asked softly, caught off guard by the mention of his name. You didn't see the familiar black haired boy near frank. You only saw Gavin attempting to give you a discreet wink, which you returned with a harsh glare.

"Yeah actually we were all there. Mikey and Ray had to run to another show. Don't know where Gee disappeared to though," Frank craned his head, looking around at the hustle and bustle that was happening permanently everywhere on Warped tour. "Ah, there he is. Gerard!"

You saw Gerard, surrounded by a small circle of fans, each holding something they wanted him to sign. You felt a strange pang when you noticed they were all pretty girls, and Gavin's words from last night came back to haunt you. You got some competition out there. You struggled to identify just what emotion was suddenly eating away at you--were you really jealous? Or was it the realization that even if you decided to make a move, it was probably hopeless?

Gerard nodded at Frank. "Be there in a sec!" he shouted, continuing to sign autographs until he had gotten through everyone.

Frank spoke with your band mates, but you were too distracted by the knowledge that Gerard had watched you perform to be sociable. You were anxious as to what his opinion would be, but tried to push it out of your thoughts.

You watched nervously as Gerard spoke to Frank and Gavin, noticing that he would glance over at you every so often. When your eyes finally met he gave you a nod and a warm smile. You gave yourself an internal pep talk to try and stay calm. You can just be friends, you don't need to do anything except be friendly. For the love of god, act normal.

Eventually he made his way over to you,offering another soft and lopsided smile,but his time it almost seemed as if he was shy. "Great show. From one lead singer to another, your band has a fucking killer sound."

You thanked him, grinning like an idiot while cautionary alarm bells went off in your head.

"I might be a bit biased though, because of the shirt your wearing."

You looked down, having forgotten what you threw on that morning. It was one of your favorite shirts, a short sleeved tee with the X-Men symbol emblazoned on the front. You'd had it for years, as evidenced by the smattering of small holes peeking through the bottom edge. Oh no, you thought, he likes comics too?

"You're a fan?" you asked coolly, a stark contrast to the giddy panic that was building up inside you.

"Yes! I actually wanted to make comics before My Chem was a thing." He spoke animatedly, his round hazel eyes widening even further. "But life had other plans. Not that I'm complaining."

That familiar heat rose in your cheeks. This conversation was dangerous, and you were trying desperately to fight the feeling that this man was something close to perfect.

The world around the two of you became an insignificant blur as you both discussed comics at length, and you hung on every word, taking turns revealing how you first discovered them and sharing your favorites. He even recommended a few titles that you had never heard of. His demeanor was passionate and lively, entirely different from the sullen boy you met the night before.

"I uh, I'm actually working on a comic at the moment," he began, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, suddenly bashful, "If you're interested you should stop by the bus sometime--"

Gerard's eyes focused on something just behind you, and you felt a sudden tap on your shoulder. You turned and felt your stomach drop to a sickening low. There, standing next to the drunk who was hitting on you last night, was your ex-boyfriend Alex.

"What are the odds!" he smiled at you, blank looking smug beside him. You found yourself at a loss for words.

"What...what are you doing here?"

He scoffed. "Ouch Y/N, is that anyway to say hello? I'm here for the same reason you are." He turned his attention to Gerard. "I'm Alex. Y/N and I used to have a band together back in the day. Well, a bit more than that actually." He smirked at you, instantly transforming any butterflies you had felt while talking to Gerard into pure revulsion.

This was your worst case scenario, and it was one you had never even considered to be possible. Seeing his face again made you freeze up, and you were at a loss for words. You looked up at Gerard through your eyelashes, wondering if the dark and overwhelming swirl of emotion inside you was showing on your face. His brows were furrowed ever so slightly as if he could sense that something wasn't quite right.

"Nice to meet you," he replied curtly before turning his attention back to you. I'll uh, let you catch up. I'll just be over there with Frank...if you need anything."

You merely nodded, too caught up in your feelings to respond properly. "I'll catch you later then."

Alex saw this opportunity as a chance to reach for an embrace, but you stepped back and out of reach.

"Just what the hell are you doing?"

"What are you implying? I'm just dropping in to say hello before Midnite Heist performs later. I'm their new drummer after all. I can't even do that?"

"No," you said, struggling to maintain a low voice, "You can't. I told you I never wanted to see you again. We may be on the same tour, but that doesn't mean you can approach me. Don't try it again."

He laughed, clearly embarrassed to be spoken too like that in front of his band mate. "If you're trying to get with that Way guy, don't bother. You're punching way above your weight with that one."

You took a moment to steel yourself, and decided to walk away rather than let thing turn into a scene. Before you turned to leave, you offered one final warning.

"I haven't forgotten what you did to me. Speak to me again and you'll regret it."

You walked off, hearing mocking 'Ooooh's from Alex and Brent as you left. You saw heads turning in your direction as you stormed away towards the bus, including Gerard's, but you couldn't be bothered by that now- not when you were struggling to keep it together.

Fuck Fuck Fuck your internal monologue looped on a bitter repeat. This was going to be the longest tour of your life.

#gerard way fanfic #gerard way x reader #gerard way imagine #mcr fanfiction

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jennywritesfanfic · 5 years ago

Text

hey jealousy (frank iero x reader)

Summary: (SMUT) You decide to test the limits of your relationship by making Frank jealousy on the last night of tour. He’s not happy about it and pretty soon you get more than you bargained for.

dom/sub undertones, daddy kink, very rough sex

You swing the dressing room door open with a shout, “Hands down the wildest crowd yet!”

Gerard seems to be prancing around staring at himself in one of the vanity mirrors while Frank and Mikey are on the couch downing something fizzy and full of caffeine. You don’t know where Ray was, but he has a habit of disappearing like that, so you aren’t worried. “Guys, seriously, you can hear them screaming from here,” you repeat yourself.

Frank looks at you and then at Gerard, “Man, you heard her, let’s go give them what they want.”

You hold the door open while the guys shuffle out, shoving each other and laughing as they go. Frank is the last to leave, and on his way out he makes sure to wink at you. That one little sign sends electricity through your entire body. You and Frank have been, well, you weren’t really sure, for a couple months now. It wasn’t consistent and you were pretty sure he hadn’t told the other guys much about it, but every week or so you two would somehow end up sharing a hotel room. Half of you wanted him to label it, but the other half kind of got off on the uncertainty.

As the band gets settled you rush down the stage’s side exit and sneak down the stairs to the floor. It’s packed with teens clad in MCR shirts, black makeup, and heavily bleached hair. You manage to wiggle your way between bodies until you’re right up close to the stage. It’s not something you do every night, but being the guys’ favorite unofficial assistant has certain perks.

It’s dark and the people around you are already thrashing around by the time the stage lights go up and Frank starts to play the intro to the first song. Everyone screams when Gerard blows a kiss to the crowd, it’s so loud you can barely tell what he’s singing, so you just scream along with what you think are the right words. You seem to move in unison with the fans around you, as you jump to the beat and relish in the hot, disorganized, mess of it all.

The song ends and Gerard starts talking about whatever nonsense is on his mind tonight. Everything slows down and you notice a man a few feet away who catches your eye when he look over. He has long blonde hair that gives him a sort of cool, California vibe and a lip piercing you can’t help but feel intrigued by. When he smiles, you smile, and soon he’s made his way over to you. By the time the next song picks up you’re dancing together at the edge of the stage. “I’m Y/N!” you shout over all the noise.

He nods, strands of light hair falling into his eyes, “Ethan!” Or at least you think he says Ethan, it could’ve easily been Allen or even Stephen, you’re not too concerned about it anyway.

You move closer to maybe-Ethan, putting your hands on his chest, and he hesitantly places his hands on your hips. The two of you keep dancing like this, moving against each other, and every once in awhile you look up at the band. Frank is near your end of the stage now, his hair damp and glued to this forehead in a way that shouldn’t be this hot, but it is. You turn around to face the stage, so Ethan’s behind you, and that’s when Frank notices. His eyes widen at the sight of you grinding against the other man, but his fingers keep moving and he doesn’t miss a note.

The rest of the night continues like this — you keep Ethan close by, he doesn’t seem to mind, and every once in a while you catch Frank glancing over. By the time they’re nearing the end of the set Frank is staring at the two of you with pure anger. His face is hard and you can tell he’s not as enthusiastic as usual; he hasn’t tried to hump Gerard’s leg even once and the show’s almost over.

The last song ends, everyone is screaming, Ethan says something about both of you getting out of here, but you shout an intelligible excuse back as you make a beeline for the side of the stage. You flash your badge at security and they let you through to where the guys are filing off stage. You spot Frank, hair falling limp in his eyes as he hands an assistant his guitar, moving quickly to the dressing rooms. You shout his name, but he doesn’t even turn around, so you run to catch up to him. Before he can open the door you reach forward and grab his heavily tattooed arm. He whips around, still panting and sweating from all the adrenaline of performing, “What the hell was that?”

You flinch at the quiet, simmering rage behind the question, “Was what?” You can’t help but smirk, he knows you’re playing dumb.

He clenches one hand into a fist, “The Nirvana-wannabe you were practically fucking in the front row.”

“His name is Ethan and we were just dancing, Frankie.”

You both move to the side as the other guys push past into the dressing room. You pull Gerard into a hug while congratulating him and a great finale, and you swear Frank almost pops a blood vessel.

When you and Frank are alone again in the dim hallway you continue with a lower voice, “You don’t see me complaining about the girls you take backstage every other show.”

He snaps, “It was twice, once in Milwaukee and once in Salt Lake. Way before any of this.”

That last phrase ignites something white hot inside of you, “And what is this, exactly?”

“You know what I mean, don’t be stupid.”

You start to argue, you’re on a roll here, when he grabs your arm and drags you into the other, smaller dressing room that’s empty. The door slams shut and he shoves you back against it. You cry out and he immediately places a hand over your mouth. You know you’ll have a bruise where your back hit the door, but you don’t care. The anger radiating off of him only makes this more fun.

“I mean,” he takes a tense deep breath, “that you’re mine, and only mine.”

You make a strangled noise and he moves his hand, still keeping you pinned to the door with his body. You give a coy nod and he looks relieved, but then a smile breaks across your face as you get an idea, “Well, what if I wanted to go home with Ethan? He did offer and when were dancing I could feel-”

Frank cuts you off, “I don’t care what you want,” his voice is hoarse right next to your ear, “You’re going to do what I tell you, and if you don’t want to, well, that’s even better.”

The lump in your throat prevents you from speaking, so you just nod again as he runs his hand through your hair. He leans forward and shoves his tongue into your mouth, making you moan loudly. He pulls away, “But I think you do.”

You wrap your legs around his waist and he picks you up to then place you with rough impatience on the couch. He pulls his t-shirt off over his head and you follow suit with your own. His hands are quick and practiced as he unbuttons and discards your cut-off shorts to reveal black lace. Something glistens in his dark eyes as he runs his runs his fingers down between your legs. “Already so wet for me,” he shakes his head, as if to scold you. He starts rubbing slow circles around your clit through your panties and you can feel your face start to heat up. You’ve done this before, but this time something’s different; it’s more intense, whether that’s due to jealousy or anger, you’re not sure.

Frank sits back and the couch and pulls you onto his lap. His lips find yours and travel down your next until he’s taking off your bra to lick and suck each nipple. When he comes up he makes sure to lock eyes with you, “Get on the floor, on your knees.”

You want to ask questions, but instead you follow the order silently. He grabs and fistful of your hair and forces your head up towards him. “Now suck me until I tell you to stop.”

As you unzip his tight black jeans to reveal one of the biggest dicks you’ve ever seen you can feel your own wetness dripping down the inside of your thighs. You start by taking his cock into your mouth and moving up and down at an agonizing, slow pace. Once you start to move faster, flicking your tongue over the head on each upstroke, Frank moans quietly and his whole body tenses. “Such a good slut,” he says breathlessly.

He’s never called you anything like that before, but you’re not exactly surprised, and it only works to turn you on even more. After another minute or so he pulls your head up and tells you to take your panties off. He stands up as you do and places his calloused hands on your hips to bend you over the arm of the couch. He shoves two fingers all the way into you and starts thrusting them in and out. He then bends over to mutter softly, “I’m going to fuck you hard enough to make you scream like the whore you are. Everyone in this whole fucking arena is going to know who you belong to. Okay?”

You know what you want to say, and maybe what he expects you to say, “Yes, daddy.”

He removes his fingers and your heart drops, but then he says, “Fuck, baby, you’re in so much trouble.”

Frank’s cock feels like it won’t even fit properly when he starts to thrust it into you, but he’s so rough that it goes in with only a short, sharp burst of pain. You cry out and he spanks you, only eliciting more noise from you. The feeling of his cock stretching you from the inside, sliding in and out, in and out, is pure bliss. You moan, unable to stop yourself, and everything inside of you clench tighter with each of his thrusts.

He spanks you again, harder this time, and again. You shout his name. “Good girl,” he cooes and slows his movements, “Daddy’s going to fill you with more cum than this tight little pussy can hold. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, Frank, I mean-” he slaps your ass again, “Daddy, yes daddy.”

“That’s right, bitch.” His thrusts become frantic and even deeper, if that’s possible. You come around his dick, your walls constricting so much that he’s almost forced out of you, and he moans loudly. He finishes immediately; his cock pulse inside you and you can feel the warmth of his cum filling you.

He pulls out of you and spins you around to face him. There’s cum dripping down your leg and everything between your legs is sore and raw. “Tell me who you belong to,” he says and pulls you against him.

“You, Frank,” you answer, “Only you.”

#frank iero smut #frank iero x reader #smut #mcr #mcreunion #mcreturn #frank iero #frank iero x you #frank iero x y/n #oneshot

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thefigureinthecorner · 5 years ago

Photo

tama-rrow will be kinder- an am archives playlist

at least 3 months and 31 songs later and this monster of a playlist finally has a cover hell yeah

the pun title is....... literally the only fun thing about this playlist, actually.

song notes, and also spoilers, under the cut

a lot of these songs are mood songs; the lyrics don’t have a whole lot of relevance. most of them do have at least some lyrical relevance, though, provided that the song has any lyrics at all. it’s p much just the songs that helped me draw all that Good Good Angst

also important to note: I started making it after episode 9, so it’s mostly relevant to the back half of the show, and especially to the last couple of episodes.

again, this is 31 songs and over 2 hours long, so the notes are........ kind of long

Ghosts That We Knew - Mumford & Sons

So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light/'Cause oh that gave me such a fright/But I will hold as long as you like/Just promise me we'll be alright

Desert Song - My Chemical Romance

this is one of those songs that’s there primarily for mood reasons; i added it right after episode 9 came out and it was on loop pretty much the whole time i was drawing stuff for that episode. the lyrics are kinda relevant, but not enough for me to pull out any specific lines.

The World Is Ugly - My Chemical Romance

this was added for mood reasons after 9, but then it became relevant.

I just wanted you to know/That the world is ugly/But you're beautiful to me/Are you thinking of me/Like I'm thinking of you/I would say I'm sorry, though/Though I really need to go

The Light Behind Your Eyes - My Chemical Romance

yes, there are three mcr songs in a row, and no, i’m not gonna apologize for that. the am archives slam dunked me right back into my emo phase. also, this song just straight-up hurts. like, the whole thing.

If I could be with you tonight/I would sing you to sleep/Never let them take the light behind your eyes/I failed and lost this fight/Never fade in the dark/Just remember you will always burn as bright

In Case You Don't Live Forever - Ben Platt

my one note for this song is: ow.

I've waited way too long to say/Everything you mean to me/In case you don't live forever, let me tell you now/I love you more than you'll ever wrap your head around/In case you don't live forever, let me tell you the truth/I'm everything that I am because of you

Spanish Sahara - Foals

this one’s another mood song, but it does have some lines that work; the forget the horror here sections are the biggest reason this song ended up on the playlist, actually, mood aside.

Hot Gates - Mumford & Sons

mood mostly, but also:

And I can't be for you all of the things you want me to/But I will love you constantly/There's precious little else to me/And though we cry, we must stay alive

Iridescent - Linkin Park

When you were standing in the wake of devastation When you were waiting on the edge of the unknown And with the cataclysm raining down, insides crying save me now You were there impossibly alone

Do you feel cold and lost in desperation You build up hope but failure's all you've known Remember all the sadness and frustration And let it go, let it go

Gone Away - SafetySuit

again: ow.

i just... go look at the lyrics. do it. it hurts.

POWERLESS - Linkin Park

it’s mostly here for mood, but the lyrics feel relevant in a way that i can’t pinpoint but it’s a way that hurts.

Daylight - Boyce Avenue

i have other connections to this specific cover of this song that make it Extra Painful but like Daylight started playing literally right after Crazy while i was at CVS and i was like hey hi excuse me i just wanted to get some Arizona w h y

anyway.

Here I am staring at your perfection/In my arms, so beautiful/The sky is getting bright, the stars are burning out/Somebody slow it down/This is way too hard/'Cause I know, when the sun comes up/I will leave, this is my last glance/That will soon be memory

Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol

ah. the Quintessential Sad Medical Drama Song. not that tama is a medical drama but like it kinda gave me those vibes at times?? anyway. it’s here for mood more than anything but there are some lyrics in it that hurt

The Winner Takes It All - ABBA

not even abba is safe from tama angst.

no seriously though i got this song stuck in my head and had an aw fuck come on seriously???? ABBA?????? you’re making ABBA hurt???????? moment

re: joan and owen

The gods may throw a dice/Their minds as cold as ice/And someone way down here/Loses someone dear/The winner takes it all/The loser has to fall/It's simple and it's plain/Why should I complain

and re: joan and wadsworth

I don't want to talk/If it makes you feel sad/And I understand/You've come to shake my hand/I apologize/If it makes you feel bad/Seeing me so tense/No self-confidence/But you see/The winner takes it all

I Of The Storm - Of Monsters and Men

Are you really gonna love me when I'm gone?/I fear you won't/I fear you don't/And it echoes when I breathe/Until all you see is my ghost/Empty vessel, crooked teeth/Wish you could see/And they call me under/And I'm shaking like a leaf/And they call me under/And I wither underneath

Hail To Whatever You Found In The Sunlight That Surrounds You - Rilo Kiley

this one is 100% a mood song. i’ve debated taking it off the playlist but it just... gets me in the right headspace for drawing tama art, i guess?? something about the sadness/anxiety in the song or something i think

Fear - Sleeping At Last

it’s instrumental, so yeah, mood song

For Good - Wicked

i’ve made art based on this song, but i didn’t even use the lyrics that actually hurt the most?

And just to clear the air/I ask forgiveness/For the things I've done you blame me for

But then, I guess we know/There's blame to share

And none of it seems to matter anymore

Empty Chairs At Empty Tables - Les Miserables

yeah so realizing how well this song fit kind of felt like what i would imagine getting hit by a train feels like

the whole song fits. just trust me on this.

All Gone (No Escape) - Gustavo Santaolalla

another instrumental one that’s mood-only, but i was rewatching a last of us playthrough as a reference for a thing and this song popped up towards the end and i was like “ah, that hurts, i need it”

All Is Well (It's Only Blood) - Radical Face

y’know what? the song’s pretty short. have all the lyrics, and i’m sorry.

All is well now Pay no mind All is well now I'm just fine I'm just fine It's only blood; I have plenty left It's only blood; I just need to rest I said I'd fix this That I'd set things straight You begged me not to But I couldn't stay Couldn't wait They cut me up, but I did them worse And I'll be fine, I just need to rest All is well now All is well now All is well now All is well now

......yeah.

when i heard it, i swear to god it replicated that exact sinking feeling i felt in the pit of my stomach when i first listened to episode 15. it fits way too well, and i have too many feelings about this song, and hhhhhhh

After the Storm - Mumford & Sons

And I won't die alone and be left there Well I guess I'll just go home, Oh God knows where Because death is just so full and man so small Well I'm scared of what's behind and what's before

The Trapeze Swinger - Iron & Wine

someone in the tag mentioned this song and i’ve been crying over it ever since

it’s just. 9 minutes of jesus christ, ow, what the fuck

Winter Song - The Head and the Heart

this one’s mostly here for mood, but some of the lyrics do fit and they hurt, like “we’re just praying that we’re doing this right/but that’s not the way it seems”; joan realizing that she’s been going about the tier 5 clear out the wrong way and the costly mistakes that come with that.

Touch - Sleeping At Last

i think this one’s mostly for the mood, but there’s something in the lyrics that make me think of joan in the finale; that kind of numb, “none of this feels real” denial of everything that’s happened both to her and to the people she loves.

Silhouette - Owl City

this song hurts especially in the context of the “i need you to be happy” line, i think; the line changing between “will i ever feel again//will i ever smile again//will i ever love again” is just, like, a trifecta of pain

The fire I began, is burning me alive But I know better than to leave and let it die I'm a silhouette asking every now and then Is it over yet? Will I ever smile again? I'm a silhouette chasing rainbows on my own But the more I try to move on the more I feel alone So I watch the summer stars to lead me home

All Is Well (Goodbye, Goodbye) - Radical Face

fun fact! all is well (it’s only blood) has a companion song!! because you know what’s better than one angst? two angst!!

And I have lost your face It slips between my fingers now And all the world is gray As though you took the colors with you When you went and passed away

It's So Hard To Say Goodbye To Yesterday - Jason Mraz

this one’s on my joan/owen playlist too, but it hurt too much to not put it here.

And if we get to see tomorrow I hope it's worth all the wait It's hard to say goodbye to yesterday

And I'll take with me the memories To be my sunshine after the rain It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday

Cradle and All - Audra McDonald

i’m just sitting here, innocently listening to joan’s playlist, when this song pops up and i’m like aw fuck aw shit no goddammit

It's not like he didn't love, no, that I couldn’t conceive There are many ways a man can stay And many ways that he can leave

Oh hush, oh hush, don't be scared I know that you tried, I know cared Let's put it behind us, that noise in the hall

We All Go the Same - Radical Face

i’ve made art for this song, too! it hurts. it’s sad. it’s about death. it’s got sad piano. what more explanation do you want

Light In The Hallway - Pentatonix

it’s.... comforting in a sad way, idk. it felt like it fit, especially towards the end of this playlist.

Tomorrow Will Be Kinder - The Secret Sisters this song is kind of like... sad and optimistic at the same time. i wanted to end this playlist on at least kind of a lighter note, and i think this song does that. it works with the finale; sad, not quite recovered, but still looking towards the future and knowing things can still be better despite every terrible thing that’s happened.

also, it’s where the pun title comes from.

Sorrow weighs my shoulders down And trouble haunts my mind But I know the present will not last And tomorrow will be kinder

Tomorrow will be kinder It's true, I've seen it before A brighter day is coming my way Yes, tomorrow will be kinder

Today I've cried a many tear And pain is in my heart Around me lies a somber scene I don't know where to start

#the bright sessions #the am archives #am archives spoilers #joan bright #agent green #sam barnes #helen #ellie wadsworth

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man-me--a-sand · 5 years ago

Text

The light behind your eyes, part 1

So, first, this is heavily based off the MCR album Danger days, but not explicitly set in the same universe. Some things might make more sense if you've seen the music videos, but they are in no way neccesary.

Characters: Roman, Virgil, Logan, Deceit, and Patton and Thomas appear for a moment

Words: 879

TW: none yet

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23580343/chapters/56576662

Virgil had been whole-heartedly against it from the start.

Roman had just been a kid, newly seventeen, when they met him.

“Logan, there's no way we can take him with us! We’re fighting! We can drop him at one of those safehouses, Patton and Thomas would gladly take him, keep him safe.”

“Virgil, he survived this far. Three years, and he spent two of them mostly alone. We could use his help.” Logan protested.

“I’m right here, you know?” Seventeen year old Roman butted in.

Virgil sighed. “Are you gonna give in?”

“No.” Logan raised an eyebrow, daring Virgil to fight him.

“Fine. I’m still not happy, though.” Virgil muttered.

It didn’t go badly, in the beginning. Roman could hold his own, and he was one of the few people who got along with Dee.

“Are you seriously going to play that music all day?” Roman said skeptically.

“Look, it’s the apocalypsey desert album, it fits.” Virgil gestured at the deserted wasteland around them, hot sun beating on the quartets heads.

“Yeah, quiet down.” Dee told Roman.

“Still old emo music.” He muttered.

Virgil smirked. “Listen to your elders, kid. MCR slaps.”

“Please.” Roman raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t even much older than me.”

“I have eight years on you. You’re the group child, admit it.” Virgil ruffled Roman’s hair jokingly, and Roman stuck his tongue out in retaliation.

“That most certainly doesn't help your case.” Logan said, without looking away from the rough road they were following to the newest outpost.

---

Tapes rattled as Virgil pulled out a box. “Hey, Ro. Your turn, pick a tape.”

“Really?” He said excitedly.

“Yeah,” Virgil smirked, “I’m fair.”

“You never let Dee or I pick the music-”

Virgil brushed Logan off. “He’s a kid, and you guys don’t complain.”

Roman slid a tape in, and Vegas Lights played through the car.

“Nice.” Virgil offered Roman a fistbump.

Roman returned it, absolutely beaming.

---

After roughly a year had passed, the group had gotten close and traveled far.

Virgil glanced Roman over as he tossed his long legs over the seat. “You should dye your hair.”

“What?”

“Look.” Virgil waved a hand around at the small group. “I have lavender, Dee has yellow ends, Lo is boring, but you should join the ‘gay with colourful hair’ gang.”

Roman frowned reluctantly. “What colour?”

“Gotta admit, that already looks fucking cool.” Roman grinned as he admired his newly bleached hair in the mirror.

Virgil swatted the back of his head. “Watch your fucking language.” He pulled his tank top off. “Alright, this dye stains and I refuse to get red on this shirt, let’s go.”

About an hour later, Romans hair was a bright red.

“Hello, Party Poison.” Virgil scrutinized the hairdo. “Actually no, your hair isn't long enough.”

“Yeah, shouldn’t we get going? We were headed to check up on what's-their-name, Patton, right?”

“Yeah, let’s ride.” Virgil ran his fingers though Roman’s hair again. “It’s so nice and silky now that you finally washed it.” He flung his top over his shoulder and hopped into the car, where Logan and Dee were waiting.

“I have to say, that looks good on you, Roman.” Logan commented.

Dee gave a thumbs up as Virgil slid a tape in, leaning back when Planetary (GO!) began to play.

---

Patton frowned when the colourfully-haired quartet pulled into his building. “What are they doing with a kid like that?” They murmured.

“Did you say something, Pat?” Thomas asked.

They waved him off. “No.”

Virgil found himself pulled aside by Patton.

“What is that kid doing with you! There's no way it's safe for him out there!”

Virgil scoffed. “That's what I said at first, but Roman can hold his own. He’s proved it time and time again, and he’s fun. We dyed his hair today.”

Patton buried their face in their hands. “There's no way Logan and Dee can agree with you. He's just a kid.”

“We totally agree with Virgil. He knows how to take care of himself. Besides, he’s what-” Logan stopped talking to turn to Roman, who was talking excitedly with Thomas about some show from before. “Are you eighteen yet?”

“In like a week.” Roman barely glanced up from the patch he was fiddling with.

“-He’s almost eighteen, and he had two years where he was on his own.”

“See, Pat?” Virgil smirked. “You’ll come around, just like I did. Right, kid?”

“Yes, my charming personality won the emo over.” Roman flashed a smile at Patton.

“Please.” Virgil snorted, brushing his greasy bangs out of his face. “You’re annoying as fuck. It was my tender, parental tendencies kicking in.”

“You tried to trick Roman into chugging vodka instead of water once.” Logan piped up. “I would hardly call that parental instincts.”

Virgil popped off the top of the car. “Alright, one, it was a vodka-vinegar mix , and two, holy shit you’re completely right, I should never become a parent.”

Roman glanced up, and laughed. “Too late, you're my dad now.”

“That would be fucking hell, my condolences go out to whoever youre parents were.” Virgil flopped back down.

Roman winced.

“Sorry, kid. Didn’t think.” Virgil said softly, running his fingers through Roman’s hair.

“S’fine,” Roman said quietly, though his shoulders stayed tight.

---

“We have a problem.”

Taglist: @shamelesslypoetic

#virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #sand writes

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cruelangelstheses · 5 years ago

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louder than the maker’s revolver (and twice as shiny) - chapter 1: look alive, sunshine

fandom: dragon age rating: M characters: isabela/f!hawke, bethany/merrill, anders/fenris/m!hawke words (total): 6.5k words (this chapter): 6.5k additional tags: fabulous killjoys au, post-apocalypse, twin hawkes, slow burn, mutual pining, angst with a happy ending, canon-typical violence description: in which an eight-person gang of rebels living in the desert pisses off the government, firefights are lost and won, homoerotic wound-dressing is commonplace, bonds are forged and broken and reforged, feelings are hard, fighting a powerful and corrupt institution is slightly less hard, and everyone is just trying to survive, to heal, to find their way. (or, “the da2 killjoy au nobody asked for”) a/n: ITS STILL 2019 OUT WEST I MADE IT!!! ok so. [cracks knuckles] this is an AU fic based on the universe created in my chemical romance's album “danger days: the true lives of the fabulous killjoys” (and gerard way's subsequent comics) about rebels in the desert fighting a corrupt government post-apocalypse. the album starts/takes place in the year 2019 which is why i wanted to get this fic out before the year ends. while the general setting and terms are the same, no characters from the killjoy universe will appear and everything else is a more loose interpretation. you do not have to be familiar with my chem or the killjoy universe to read this. (for those who know the story, this fic takes place in the year 2030, so after the original “fab four” have died but before the events of the comics, during a sort of “lull” in the action you could say)

a key feature of the killjoy universe is the usage of “killjoy names,” usually one or two-word phrases that relate to the person, and often the person created the name themself - the original four are party poison, fun ghoul, jet star, and kobra kid. i've given each member of the crew a killjoy name (see below) that the other characters will usually use in dialogue (except for characters who knew each other before they became killjoys and got names), but i will use their real names for the most part in narration so you don't forget who's who

ANYWAY i've been planning this fic for a whole year now and it's gonna be a FUN RIDE !!!! i've left a guide at the end for the killjoy names (not all of them are mentioned in this chapter though). i tried my best to explain what certain terms mean in this chapter but they will all be expanded upon more throughout the fic!! ALSO some of characters might end up aged down a little bit because people in the zones tend not to live very long and someone in their early to mid 40s is considered like, ancient in the comics. bethany and carver are still 19 though, the others might just be adjusted in proportion

thank u for reading, i love ensemble casts and da2 and mcr and rebellion and also being gay. fic title and chapter title come from “look alive, sunshine” (by mcr of course lol)

read it on ao3

—

Bethany has never been one to complain, but she has to admit, her knee hurts like a bitch.

The rest of the Birds take down the remaining Draculoids fairly easily, so she doesn’t feel as bad about having to hide crouched behind a crate on the ground. If there were more of them, or if there was a Scarecrow, she’d probably try to keep fighting despite her injury, but this is just a small, unlucky group of Dracs, leaderless and mindless in their pursuit of one of the biggest gangs in the Zones. Perhaps a Scarecrow would have ordered them not to try to fight a group of eight fairly seasoned Killjoys.

When the guns stop firing and the Dracs lie dead in the desert sand, Isabela’s voice floats over. “You know, Blondie, a smoke bomb would’ve helped.”

Anders sighs. Bethany can practically hear him rolling his eyes. “Those things don’t grow on trees, you know. And even if they did, it’s not like we have many trees out here. You think I want to waste them on a group like that? We got rid of them just fine.”

Bethany peers out from behind the crate just in time to see Isabela shrug and gesture to her. “Well, at the very least, it might’ve saved Sunshine from being shot.”

At that, Carver seems to snap to attention. “Bethany’s hurt?”

Now it’s Bethany’s turn to sigh. Gingerly stretching her leg out and trying not to wince, she says, “It’s not that bad, Carver.”

Marian huffs, shoving her red-and-black ray gun back into its holster. “‘Not that bad,’ my ass.” She sounds angry, but there’s an edge of worry to her voice that Bethany knows like the back of her hand. “A few more shots like that and you’d have been dusted for sure.”

“But I wasn’t,” Bethany replies. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Anders rummaging through their supplies for the first aid kit.

“But you could’ve been,” Carver adds, crossing his arms and glaring at Marian as if she had something to do with the injury.

Marian scowls defensively. “What are you looking at me for? I was killing Dracs! Maybe if you weren’t so busy trying to show off at every opportunity, you could protect her better!” She sneers out the word protect.

“Maybe if you actually thought before you acted for once in your life—”

“Hey!”

Garrett’s voice rings out above everything else, so loud and firm that for a split second it feels like the whole world stops. These are the moments when Garrett Hawke is at his most serious and his most powerful: when he’s breaking up an argument between Carver and Marian.

“How about instead of blaming each other for Bethany’s injury,” he says, his hands held up in an appeasing manner, “we set up camp here and rest for the evening?”

Marian and Carver exchange glances. After a pause, it’s Marian that says, “Fine.”

The place in question is an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Zone Four, not so remote that it’s off the map, but remote enough that there aren’t a whole lot of Dracs crawling around (and even fewer now that they’ve taken care of this group). A few empty crates and barrels litter the ground surrounding it, some knocked over or zapped from previous firefights. Other than that, there are no recent signs of life—which means it’s a perfect place for the Birds of Passage to recuperate.

Bethany pushes herself to her feet, using the top of the crate to balance herself. Her knee hurts even more when she tries to stretch it out or place any weight on it, but she’ll be damned if she lets anyone help her.

“Are you alright?”

Well...almost anyone.

She lifts her head up at the sound of Merrill’s lilting voice. The girl’s black hair is plastered to her tattooed and sweat-covered face, not long enough to pull up into a ponytail like Bethany’s, but just long enough to get in the way. “I can help you get inside, if you want,” she says, holding her hand out. “Then we can take a look at it, get it all wrapped up.”

For a moment, Bethany just stares at her, searching her face for any signs of pity. Instead she finds only sincere concern for a companion, the same as it would be if any of the others were injured. With a nod, she lets Merrill wrap an arm around her shoulders and guide her slowly into the warehouse. She can feel the eyes of the rest of the group on them, some more subtle than others, but she knows deep down that they’re just making sure she’s okay. Like it or not, she and Carver are the youngest, and though he tries so obviously hard to act like he isn’t, there are still moments where the others look at him and remember that he’s only nineteen, too—moments like right now, as he paces agitatedly across the floor, looking like he’s never been more stressed in his life.

“Carver,” Bethany calls as Merrill helps her sit up against the wall, her legs stretched out. “I’ll be fine.” She laughs a little despite the stinging pain. “It’s not like we’ll have to amputate it or anything.”

Anders kneels down beside her, first aid kit in hand and a good-natured smile on his face. “We might.”

Merrill smacks his arm. “Don’t scare them!” she hisses as she sits down next to Bethany.

Garrett turns to Carver, cool and composed. “She’s fine,” he says matter-of-factly, a playful smirk on his face. “If it were really that bad, none of us would be joking.”

Carver snorts. “You might.”

Garrett puts a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Dear brother, you wound me.”

Merrill giggles as she watches them, her gaze soft. “Your siblings remind me of my family sometimes,” she says as Anders begins cleaning and dressing the wound. “Well-intentioned, but sometimes they need to be reminded that you’re an adult, same as them.”

Bethany nods. If there’s anyone that understands her, it’s Merrill. “To be fair,” she says quietly, “sometimes I need to be reminded of that, too.”

Merrill turns to look at her, pushing a few strands of hair out of her face. “Then I’ll remind you,” she says. “You’re a grown woman. You don’t have to always agree or go along with them. You can stand up for yourself like anyone else.”

Bethany nods again, unable to stop a faint smile from breaking through. Anders doesn’t say anything, but she can see the blush on his face, as if he’s just witnessed something he feels he wasn’t meant to see.

—

The Hawkes are only on the run for a month or two before they meet their first recruit (and fifth member).

Well, perhaps “on the run” isn’t the right phrase. All Killjoys are technically “on the run” from Better Living Industries—it comes with the whole “openly rebelling against your corrupt government” thing. But it doesn’t really feel like running. It feels like surviving. Every Killjoy knows it’s dangerous to stay in one place for too long.

Still, they’re traveling a lot more than they did when their parents were both still alive. Growing up in the Zones outside of Battery City, away from BLI brainwashing, the Hawke children learned how to thrive in the desert fairly quickly, which meant that their family was able to more easily live off the land for longer periods of time.

Now, though, after selling most of their belongings, they live out of their car, a black 1969 Chevy Camaro convertible, spray-painted with two red stripes down the sides and a red bird symbol on the hood (courtesy of Garrett). In honor of their surname as well as their living situation, they’ve christened themselves the Birds of Passage.

For obvious reasons, one of their most common pit stops is one of several Dead Pegasus gas stations littering the Zones. The siblings usually draw straws to determine which one of them has to pump the gas.

“Damn! Again?” Carver says, staring at the short straw between his fingers in disbelief. Frowning, he starts to open the left-side car door. “Just my luck.”

In the driver’s seat, Marian reaches into the back and pats Carver on the shoulder, a smirk on her face. “You’ll live. Now go.” With that, she gives him a light shove out the door. Carver snorts.

As he starts pumping the gas, Marian absentmindedly surveys the area, not really expecting to see anything out of the ordinary. Out of the corner of her eye, though, she spots someone she’s never seen before at one of the other fuel pumps: a petite girl filling up a black and forest green motorbike.

Bethany seems to notice her at the same time. “Who’s that?”

Garrett strokes his beard, like an asshole. “No idea.”

“Let’s find out.” Before anyone else can respond, Marian hops out of the car, popping the collar of her black leather jacket. She’s mostly tuned Garrett out at this point, but she thinks she can hear him warn her not to scare the poor girl. He underestimates her ability to be charming rather than terrifying.

The first thing Marian notices is that the girl dresses like a Killjoy. Her brown boots have flowers painted on the sides, and her acid-washed jeans are ripped and dirty. The back of her denim vest features a large daisy with white petals and a yellow center, and in the center is a radiation hazard symbol.

“Nice logo,” Marian says as she approaches.

The girl yelps in surprise, nearly dropping the gas pump in her hands. When she turns around, Marian sees that her face is adorned with branch- or root-like tattoos on her cheeks, forehead, and chin. “Oh!” she says, clearly taken aback. “Uh…thank you.”

Marian can practically hear Garrett’s “I told you so” from the Camaro. Holding a hand up, she says, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Somehow, her voice still comes out sounding gruff and vaguely threatening.

“Oh, that’s alright,” the girl replies, leaning against her motorcycle and seeming to relax a little. “I was just filling up Feathers.”

Marian raises an eyebrow. “Strange name for a motorcycle.”

The girl blushes. “Well, I named it after a pet I had when I was younger.”

“Oh,” Marian says, nodding. That makes a bit more sense. “A bird?”

The girl laughs a little and shakes her head. “Oh, no, it was a lizard. I always wanted a bird so I could name it Feathers. But I grew up in the Zones, and there aren’t many birds out here. Lots of lizards, though.” She gives Marian a lopsided smile. “I took what I could get.”

Marian can’t help it; she laughs, though in the back of her mind, she wonders why she’s never seen this girl before, if she grew up in the Zones.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” the girl says, her green eyes widening. “I didn’t mean to ramble. I didn’t even introduce myself.” She holds out a hand, both of which are covered in long, fingerless fishnet gloves that end near her elbows. “Deadly Daisy. Daisy for short. Or you can just call me Merrill. I don’t mind.”

That explains the logo. “Kitty Hawke,” Marian replies, shaking Merrill’s hand firmly.

Merrill nods and starts to speak again, but something behind Marian makes her stop and narrow her eyes in confusion. “Who—?”

Marian glances over her shoulder and nearly jumps out of her shoes. Not one, not two, but all three of her siblings have decided to join the conversation.

“Firebird,” Garrett says, bowing dramatically—so dramatically, in fact, that it makes his stupid sunglasses fall off his face. Garrett has a habit of collecting weird sunglasses and goggles and such. This particular pair has bright orange lenses, which Marian is pretty sure do nothing to block out the sun, and flames sticking out on either side.

Marian rolls her eyes. “My twin brother,” she explains. “It seems I stole all his brain cells in the womb.”

Garrett blows a raspberry at her as he picks his sunglasses off the ground and uses his shirt to wipe off the sand and dirt.

Bethany steps forward, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ears, one of her nervous habits. “Midnight Sun,” she says with a tiny smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh! You, too!” Merrill says. Gesturing to Carver, who has yet to say anything, she asks, “Who’s the grumpy one?”

“I’m not—” Carver starts, but he cuts himself off at the sound of his siblings’ snickering. “Fantom Fighter,” he says, his face heating up. “Two Fs.” He turns around and gestures to the two large black Fs painted on the back of his jean jacket. Then, gesturing to Bethany, he adds, “I’m her twin brother.”

Bethany chuckles. “And we’re all siblings.”

Merrill cups her hands over her face. “Oh, my goodness.”

Marian clears her throat. “Anyway,” she says, side-eyeing Garrett, “why are you guys even here?”

Garrett throws his hands up. “Don’t look at me! I am but a slave to the whims of our younger siblings!”

Bethany and Carver exchange embarrassed glances, then both turn to glare at Garrett. Marian sighs. They’re all a mess.

“Oh, well, I shouldn’t keep you,” Merrill says, patting the side of her motorcycle. “Feathers and I can get moving, if you all need to leave.”

That catches Marian’s attention. “Wait, you’re traveling alone?” She hadn’t seen anyone else around, but she’d assumed that Merrill had at least one companion somewhere, perhaps inside the shitty convenience store connected to the gas station.

Merrill nods. “I was raised by neutrals,” she says—people who live outside Battery City, but don’t openly rebel against BLI. “I didn’t become a Killjoy until just recently. I haven’t really found a group yet.”

That explains why Marian’s never seen her before. Neutrals tend to stay out of the way unless they run a business, like their friend Varric.

“That’s dangerous, you know,” Carver says, but he sounds less matter-of-fact and more concerned. “You’re a lot more likely to get ghosted by yourself.”

Merrill sighs. “I know. But what am I supposed to do? Invite myself to tag along with the next Killjoy gang I see?”

Garrett shrugs. “Why not? You could tag along with us.”

To be fair, Marian had been thinking that, too, in the back of her mind, but it still stuns her to actually hear it spoken.

Merrill’s eyes widen with hope. “That would be wonderful, but I wouldn’t want to impose…”

Instinctively, Marian and her siblings all turn to look at each other, none of them saying anything, just glancing back and forth with various facial expressions ranging from embarrassment to uncertainty to excitement. Finally, Marian turns back to Merrill and says, “You wouldn’t be imposing. We’d be glad to have you join us.”

Merrill gasps. “Oh, thank you! You won’t regret it, I promise!”

Bethany smiles. “Welcome to the Birds of Passage, Daisy.”

(At the use of Merrill’s Killjoy name, Marian briefly wonders just how long her siblings had been eavesdropping before Merrill noticed them.)

“We’re headed to one of the outer Zones for the evening,” Carver explains. “You could follow us on your bike until we find a place to set up camp.”

“Oh, perfect!” Merrill says. “I’ve been meaning to head that way. Too many Dracs this close to Bat City.”

When the Hawkes climb back into the Camaro, Marian steals a glance at Merrill in the rearview mirror, watches as their newfound companion unties a green bandana from her belt loop and wraps it around her head to keep her hair out of her face. When Marian steps on the gas pedal and tears out of the Dead Pegasus parking lot, the roar of the motorcycle lets her know that Deadly Daisy is right behind them.

—

Fenris doesn’t sleep well that night.

Granted, Fenris doesn’t sleep well most nights, but for some reason, the night after Bethany gets shot in the leg is particularly bad. Maybe it’s the hard concrete floor of the warehouse, which no amount of blankets or cushions can completely alleviate. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s lying only a few feet away from Garrett, who sleeps like a log and snores like a chainsaw. Maybe it’s the pain in his shoulder from an injury a few days prior.

Or maybe it’s the fact that tonight, his nightmares are worse than usual. Tonight, when he dreams, he is alone, but worse than that: the bodies of his fellow Killjoys lie dead at his feet, glassy eyes wide, their hands still on the triggers of their guns. Draculoids—more Dracs than he’s ever seen at one time—close in on him, zombielike in the way they reach for him, pull at him from every angle, pin him to the ground and snarl in his face. He’d fight if he could, fight with everything he has, but his body is stiff and frozen, and no amount of willpower can force even his mouth to move. For a man with an aversion to closeness and touching, and painful tattoos from BL/ind experimentation, the sensation of being trapped makes him feel like he’s about to vomit.

It’s when they pull out a Drac mask and shove it over his head that he wakes up gasping for breath.

It takes a few minutes for his body to relax and his heart to stop pounding in his ears. Fenris can see the faintest bit of morning light trickling through the windows—he’d guess that it’s around five o’clock—and concludes that attempting to get a decent amount of sleep will probably be a fruitless endeavor. Sighing and forcing himself to sit upright, he reaches into the small backpack beside him and pulls out a Killjoy-made magazine that they snagged at the last gas stop.

The zine is filled with artwork of desert landscape and rebels fighting BL/ind, accompanied by writing—a few short stories and poems, a few articles and essays, all about the highs and lows of revolution. It’s a perfect representation of life in the Zones, every copy made by hand, since few (if any) Killjoys have access to a working printer. However many were made, probably no more than twenty, the artists and authors must have had to redraw and rewrite their work. Two Polaroid photos are taped to the inside cover, one of a Dead Pegasus gas station at sunset, the other of two female Killjoys kissing, with their names listed at the bottom. There are probably different photos in every copy, likely taken from the same photographer, someone lucky enough to have access to a working Polaroid camera (though Fenris concedes that it’s actually not too difficult to find batteries out here, though they might be half-empty).

He’s so focused on flipping through the zine that he doesn’t realize anyone else is awake—at least, not until the sound of someone sitting down next to him nearly makes him jump out of his skin.

“Sorry,” Anders whispers, holding a hand up. Behind him, the orange light of the sunrise creates a halo around his blond head. “I assume you couldn’t sleep, either?”

Fenris makes a noncommittal grunt, enough to give Anders his answer, but curt enough to hopefully get his I don’t want to talk about it message across. He’d rather not have to even think about the nightmares that his subconscious assaults him with, let alone explain them.

“Alright,” Anders says with an understanding nod. He glances over at the zine, skimming the page Fenris has it open to with clear interest.

Fenris holds it out for him to take. “You can look through it.”

Anders hesitates for a moment before obliging. Fenris watches his face as he flips through the pages. The brilliant poetry and detailed artwork seem to fill him with awe, similar to what Fenris felt browsing the zine’s contents, but there’s something else, too, something deeper—something like longing.

“I wanted to tell you something,” Anders says finally, slowly closing the booklet. “I just remembered, and I think you deserve to know.” He glances over at the windows, and the sun shines on his pale face, reflecting off of his gold earring. Without looking at Fenris, he says, “You have a sister, named Varania.”

Fenris blinks in surprise. A sister? Anders apparently knew him when they both lived in Battery City, before BLI wiped Fenris’s mind—or reprogrammed him, as they like to call it. It’s times like these that make him feel like Anders knows him better than he himself does. “And you’re just now telling me this?” Fenris says in an attempt to mask his bewilderment. A sister. He has a sister.

“You only mentioned her once or twice,” Anders says. “It was the last thing on my mind. But something reminded me of it this morning, so I figured I’d tell you.” He shrugs. “I don’t know much else about her. But I know she’s still alive, or she was by the time I left Bat City.”

Sister. Sister. Sister. His brain repeats it so often that it no longer really feels like a word. He knows he’d be angry if Anders had kept this hidden from him, but at the same time, he’s not really sure what he’s supposed to do with the information. She’s probably still in Battery City, which means it’s too late and far too dangerous to go back and search for her, or even attempt to write a letter to her.

Still, he feels like he has to say something. “Well,” he mumbles, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Thank you. For telling me.” Then, tilting his head to the side, he adds, “May I ask what reminded you?”

Anders sighs and pushes a few loose strands of hair out of his face. “She appeared in a dream last night.”

Fenris doesn’t expect it to hurt, but it does, just a little. To think that he doesn’t even know what his own sister looks like, while a man who barely knows anything about her sees her in his dreams.

Abruptly, Anders hands the zine back to him and stands up, covering his eyes with a hand to block out the sun. Fenris glances down at the page he left open: a poem written in an angry hand, calling for revolution, calling for justice.

—

Varric Tethras is what people in the Zones call a “neutral.” He doesn’t wear the flashy clothes, he goes by his real name, and he tends to stay in one spot minding his own business rather than get into fights with Draculoids. He has his own little gas station convenience store in Zone Three and is an expert at aiding Killjoys without giving BLI a reason to go after him. In short, he’s the perfect person to go to when there’s trouble, and there’s always trouble.

The trouble this time has nothing to do with BL/ind, for once; about five miles away from Varric’s shop, the Camaro broke down, so Marian had to jump start it using Merrill’s motorcycle, and now they’re hanging out in the store while she tries to fix the car.

Garrett frowns as he glances out the window at the setting sun. “We might have to camp out here for the night, Varric.” It’s not the first time, and he knows Varric doesn’t mind, but he still feels bad about it.

Varric waves a hand nonchalantly. “Yeah, I figured,” he says from behind the store counter, where he seems to be digging through some junk he’s stored underneath. Varric is a whopping four-foot-eight, so the chair he uses to reach the counter makes most other people who sit in it look like giants. Merrill finds a particular delight in this, and she’s so sweet that anyone would feel terrible asking her to get off of it, even Marian, which has been an especially interesting phenomenon to witness.

As if on cue, the front door swings open, and there stands Marian, covered in grease and wearing nothing but a sports bra and ripped black shorts. “I’m turning in for the night,” she says as she waltzes into the shop, letting the door slam shut behind her. “Round two starts in the morning.”

Garrett watches as she heads into the bathroom to wash herself off. Carver came in from practicing his shooting about a half hour ago (and is currently sitting on the floor eating potato chips), so now they’re all inside for the evening. Bethany’s been drawing quietly, her brow furrowed in concentration as she sits on the worn couch in one of the back rooms, and Garrett and Merrill have been making their own fun out front. The store is Varric’s home, so he had to get creative with the few extra rooms.

Garrett is wandering aimlessly through the little aisles, examining various snacks, all stamped with the BLI logo, when he hears the front door open, and in walks possibly the most gorgeous Killjoy Garrett has ever seen.

The first thing he notices is the shock of silver-white hair, the way the undercut contrasts against the man’s brown skin. The dim light of the store reflects against his leather jacket and his surprisingly wide eyes. When he takes a few steps forward, a chain hanging from his black jeans—yes, jeans, in the desert—makes a jangling sound, and his heavy footsteps suggest combat boots. He looks like he just walked out of a mosh pit, but that’s not what intrigues Garrett the most. No, what really catches his attention is the pale white tattoos that stretch from the man’s bottom lip down into his chest and out to the tips of his fingers—they almost seem to glow. “Varric?” the man calls in a deep voice as he surveys the area.

Varric pops his head out from the back of the store. “Oh-ho! Long time no see, Wolfy!”

The man rolls his eyes at the nickname and leans awkwardly against one of the snack aisles. “I see you are having a sleepover,” he says slowly as he eyes each of the Birds suspiciously (save for Marian, who is still washing up, thankfully). Bethany walks out into the store to see him better, and Garrett flashes him his best good-natured smile, causing the man to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Their car broke down not far from here,” Varric explains as he walks out from behind the store counter. “And because I’m just so charitable, I let them stay for the night.” That’s his way of saying that they’re friends.

“Hm.” The man makes his way through the store, seemingly on edge, like he’s keenly aware of the way the Birds glance his way out of the corners of their eyes, pretending that they’re not looking at him. Eventually, Garrett gives up on trying to be inconspicuous and plops down in a chair pushed up against one wall, allowing himself to stare openly. He’s never been good with subtlety.

Suddenly Marian’s voice rings out through the shop. “Who’s this?”

Varric clears his throat. “Birds of Passage, allow me to formally introduce you to the Painted Wolf. He’s kind of new, doesn’t have a gang to roll with yet.”

The Painted Wolf looks away, not making eye contact as he wanders into another aisle where he can’t as easily be seen. “I think I would prefer to keep it that way. No offense.”

After a few beats of silence, Merrill says from her place on top of the chair behind the store counter, “You have tattoos, like me.”

Instinctively, almost as if he was expecting it, the Wolf replies, “But you received yours willingly, I’ll wager.”

Merrill blinks in surprise. “Well. Yes, I did. You mean you didn’t?”

The Painted Wolf does not respond, just runs a hand through his hair and takes a breath through his nose.

Garrett frowns a little and stands back up, making his way over to where Marian is still standing in front of the bathroom door, her arms crossed. “Don’t tell me,” she says quietly. “You think we should let him come with us.”

Garrett shrugs. “Well, why not? He doesn’t have anyone. And he’s…intriguing.”

Marian rolls her eyes. “You’re just saying that because you think he’s hot.”

“I do not,” Garrett lies, but his face heats up, giving him away. “Okay, well, maybe I do, but that’s not the only reason.”

Marian shakes her head. “He doesn’t seem too keen on making friends. I mean, he just said he’d rather be alone. Also, what you call ‘intriguing’ I call ‘suspicious.’ The man’s got secrets.”

“So do we,” Garrett says, though at the moment he can’t think of anything particularly damning. If nothing else, he’s sure Carver’s got something embarrassing.

“You being gay doesn’t count as a secret when you gawk at any man that isn’t related to us,” Marian says, a tiny smirk forming on her face.

“That’s not what I meant!” Garrett says. He can feel his face turning even redder. He needs to find a way to get Marian on his side, and if he can’t do it with emotion, then maybe he can do it with logic. “Seriously, I think we should talk to him. He’s a new Killjoy, but he looks way more experienced than most newbies. He might even be older than us. I’d be willing to bet he knows something about BL/ind. I just think he’d be good to have on our side. And it’s not like he has to stay with us forever.”

Marian seems to think it over for a long time. It’s different than it was with Merrill. Unlike the Wolf, Merrill had expressed a clear interest in finding a group to fall in with, and the Birds just happened to be the first ones to click with her. Also, Marian is a lesbian and about ten times more suspicious of men than she is of women as a general rule, which is fair, but it makes these things difficult sometimes. Finally, she says, “Fine. If you can convince him, then I’m game. I can go tell the others.” She cracks her knuckles. “At the very least, he looks like he knows something worth knowing.”

Garrett holds his hands up. “Well, hopefully you won’t have to beat it out of him, so you can stop with the threatening looks.”

Marian snorts. “Just asserting my dominance, my dear little brother.” She reaches forward and musses his hair.

Garrett shakes his head as he starts to head over to the other side of the store, where the Wolf is standing. He doesn’t bother pointing out that she’s only older than him by nine minutes, because she’ll hang those nine minutes over his head until the day they die.

The Painted Wolf looks up from the magazine he’s been flipping through. “Let me guess,” he says. “You want me to join your gang.”

Garrett smiles sheepishly. “What can I say? We think you’d be a good addition to the team.”

The Wolf frowns and puts the magazine back on the rack. “You barely know anything about me.”

“I know you’re a Killjoy traveling alone, and that’s enough for me,” Garrett says, and it’s the truth. Killjoys stick together. It’s the law of the desert. It’s how they survive.

The Wolf narrows his eyes. “I already said I prefer to be alone.”

Garrett folds his arms over his chest, allowing his knowledge of the Zones to give him confidence. “That’s how I can tell you’re new,” he says. “Rule number one of making it as a Killjoy: find a gang. Hordes of Dracs are less likely to target larger groups, and even if they do, you have a better chance of making it out alive when you’re not alone. If you watch our backs, we’ll watch yours.”

The Wolf nods slowly, as if this just confirmed something he already suspected. “You watch our backs, we’ll watch yours,” he repeats to himself. “It’s...a sentiment I am not entirely familiar with.”

“I figured you were from Bat City,” Garrett says, stroking his beard thoughtfully. (Carver and Marian like to make fun of him when he does that. Marian says it makes him look like an asshole.)

The Wolf nods again. “The sense of camaraderie was one of the things that drew me to the Zones, and to the Killjoy lifestyle specifically. But until now, I suppose I have been too wary to actively engage in it.”

Garrett raises an eyebrow, careful not to show too much excitement. “Until now, you say?”

The Wolf gives the softest chuckle, his mouth curving briefly upward. “Perhaps you have a point about me traveling alone. BL/ind knows that I left Battery City; no doubt they’re looking for me. It...would be prudent to join a larger group, at least for a little while.”

Garrett allows himself the beginnings of a grin. “It definitely would.”

The Wolf clears his throat. “I...never got your name,” he says, fingers playing mindlessly with the hem of his jacket.

“Firebird,” Garrett replies, holding a hand out for him to shake.

The Wolf looks at it for a moment before responding. “Well, then, Firebird,” he says slowly, “if you’ll have me, I would like to travel with you and your gang.”

“I certainly would love to have you,” Garrett replies, only realizing how strange it sounds once the words are out of his mouth. His face heats up. “I...I didn’t mean it like—”

Across the room, Marian calls, “Real smooth.” Garrett flips her off.

An awkward little smile forms on the Wolf’s face. “I know what you meant,” he says, but if Garrett isn’t mistaken, he’s blushing, too.

—

A few days later, Varric, whose talents include knowing everything that’s happening in the Zones, says, “So I got a tip that there’s someone after you guys.”

Isabela rolls her eyes and leans against the counter, conscious of the way her ripped white jean shorts ride up her ass—she’s doing it on purpose, and she peers over her shoulder to make sure Marian’s watching. “Someone’s always after us, Varric. This isn’t new.”

“No, like a major someone,” Varric replies. “Does the name Meredith Stannard mean anything to any of you?”

The Birds exchange glances from their various positions throughout the shop. They’ve all heard the name, but only Fenris and Anders seem to know who she is. Makes sense, since they’re the only ones who have actually lived in Battery City and seen BL/ind’s inner workings up close.

“She’s a Scarecrow, right?” Marian says from behind Isabela. She steps forward and takes a large sip out of her Neptune Pop can. “Isn’t that all we need to know?”

“She isn’t just any old Scarecrow,” Fenris says as he examines the shelves for more food. “She is one of the Director’s favorites—very high-ranking, always flanked by six or more Draculoids and sometimes other Scarecrows. I have known a few BL/ind workers who do not wish to kill, but do so because they fear the consequences of disobeying.” He shakes his head, speaking calmly but severely. “Meredith is not one of them. She kills out of hate and nothing less. She views it as her duty, a mission she will carry out until the day she dies. I suggest taking her seriously. She has slaughtered many of you.”

The way he refers to Killjoys isn’t lost on Isabela. It’s been a little less than a year, she thinks, since he left Battery City and joined the rebels in the Zones, but he still seems hesitant to identify himself as one of them. He still refers to them as you instead of us.

His words send a brief chill down Isabela’s spine, but she shakes it off and looks up at Marian to gauge her reaction. Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t seem fazed.

“It doesn’t matter how many of us she’s killed,” she says. The piercings in her left ear gleam in the light from the windows. “She bleeds just like the rest of us, and she’ll die just like the rest of us.”

Varric holds a hand up. “Fair point, I suppose. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you. My source says Meredith considers you guys one of the most dangerous gangs in the Zones. That means one of her biggest priorities is wiping you out. Just...be careful.”

“Careful is my middle name,” Marian says as she finishes her Neptune Pop, crushes the can in one hand, and launches it across the store, causing Anders to duck because of his ridiculously long bird legs. The can lands in the garbage bin with a loud crash.

Marian grins. It’s lopsided, and her teeth are crooked and stained with soda, but it just makes Isabela want to kiss that alluring, imperfect mouth even more.

“I thought your middle name was Selene,” Merrill says from her designated spot in Varric’s chair. They call it the Tallening Chair.

Marian’s face softens, and her cheeks turn pink as she gently explains to Merrill that it’s a figure of speech. Isabela watches in silence until Marian suddenly turns to her, lightly smacks her ass, and says with a playful glint in her eyes, “Well, back to business.”

Isabela smirks. Works every time.

—

It only takes half an hour for Marian’s nonchalance about Meredith Stannard to come back and bite her in the ass.

“Guys!”

Garrett bursts through the front door of Varric’s shop, his eyes wide and panicked. He’d been outside restocking the trunk with supplies. “I think we’ve got company.”

Marian peers outside, and the rest of the Birds do the same. Sure enough, veering into the parking lot are two white vans with the Better Living Industries symbol emblazoned on their doors.

Shit.

In a flash, they all whip out their ray guns and rush outside just in time to see a horde of Dracs pouring out of the vans. Then, from the passenger seat of one of the vans, a woman climbs out. She’s tall, blonde, and middle-aged, and her eyes seem to pierce right through them.

“Ah,” she says as the Dracs line up behind her, brandishing their plain white ray guns. “The notorious Birds of Passage, or so you call yourselves.” As she speaks, she pulls out her own weapon and seems to aim it straight at Marian. “It looks as though you’ve been expecting me.”

For a moment, the two groups just stand there silently, revolvers pointed at one another, a classic example of a Mexican standoff. It feels like the air has been sucked out of the atmosphere, like the atoms themselves have stopped moving completely. Then Meredith snaps her fingers with her free hand, and the desert explodes in gunfire.

——

killjoy names: garrett - firebird marian - kitty hawke bethany - midnight sun carver - fantom fighter merrill - deadly daisy anders - nuclear blonde isabela - storm chaser fenris - the painted wolf

#SORRY FOR THE LONG AS FUCK AUTHORS NOTE THE REST WILL NOT BE THAT LONG #dragon age 2 #da2 #hawkebela #fenhanders #bethmerrill #hawke #isabela #fenris #anders #bethany hawke #merrill #f!hawkebela #m!fenhanders #male hawke #female hawke #garrett hawke #marian hawke #my fics

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