#god it from warped tour :))

[jlf23tumble]

Sea said something about you today and big larries

Oh contraire, seasurfacefullofclowns said something today about influential larries, which I'm definitely not, but I love that her thinking so just underlines all the other completely incorrect bullshit in that post, the way she ALWAYS doubles down on the dumb, no thoughts, head empty because if it's not about hand-wringing over incorrect shit that makes Louis look pathetic and undermined when he's anything but, it's not worth doing. I also love that she has me blocked, so the only way I know about any of this is via email notification, so yeah, I saw it, these high tumblr walls, they came up short, etc.

[hiimcanadia]

I was looking through some old pics trying to find something and it is blowing my mind to realize that I was 13 when I started moshing. I was practically scared of my own shadow at age 13 how did I convince myself to get into the violent dance circle full of men who were all a full foot taller than me. I mean I'm glad I did but what the hell girl

[autistme]

insane accidental discovery tonight

[mediumgayitalian]

prev

———

She brushes another kiss to his hidden face and settles against the car door, holding him. She thinks for a moment and decides on something old, a tune she heard on the radio once upon a time and never heard again; she’s warped it, now, no doubt about it, humming it from memory so long it’s changed to whatever she has made it. But Will recognises it from years of lullabies, picking up on the swooping baritones and mumbling the words into her shoulder.

“You know, that Han Solo shrine up in your room makes a lot more sense, now that I think about it.”

The melody dies in his throat.

“Mama.”

“I’m just saying.” She bites back a smirk, swatting away his smacking hands. “There was a point in time I thought it was admiration, you know, but you have a lot of posters of that open vest —”

“Mama!”

She acquiesces, this time, never having seen his poor face so scarlet, trying and failing to keep her laughter to herself. The tear tracks have long since dried and his breathing is steady, now, gangly limbs tucked into her ribs and hanging off the bend of her thigh. Flopped all over her like he used to to when he was young and she was still touring, when the world was too loud and too bright and too mean and she hid him from the sun. Her hands in his hair are to touch instead of soothe.

“Who’s the boy?”

“No.”

“C’mon, babydoll.” She pokes at his ribs, grinning widely when he rolls his eyes to hide his smile. “Tell me.”

“It’s nobody, Ma, gods.”

“Yeah, right. Not like you were comparing having a crush to killing someone in cold blood twenty minutes ago. Clearly it’s somebody.”

He, very pointedly, doesn’t answer.

Unfortunately, he forgets that he gets his stubborn from her.

“Hm. Can’t be anyone I haven’t heard of in a few weeks, or else it wouldn’t be bothering you. What names have you mentioned?”

He looks at her in horror. “You wouldn’t.”

Absolutely, she would. Her smile widens.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess it ain’t Chiron, ‘cause then I’d have questions —”

“Oh my gods! Stop!”

“— an’ I doubt it’s that security fellow, with the eyes, although if it is no judgement —”

“I’m throwing myself out of this car! Right now! I’m gonna lay on the road ‘til someone hits me!”

“— Lord, you don’t mention many names. You’re a recluse, baby. You gotta make more than two friends.”

She stills. Will, perhaps guessing where she is going, makes a noise of deep, personal agony.

“Oh my stars, is it Cecil?”

“Ew, Ma!”

He strains against her hold but she tightens, hooking her elbow around his shoulders and flexing her other hand, pretending to examine her nails.

“It is, isn’t it? I mean, he is a very handsome young man. And he has a good heart, too, despite the — how to put it — distaste for the law —”

“I just threw up in my mouth! Right now! Stop it!”

“I should probably stop letting him stay in your room when he stays over, huh, that one’s on me —”

He wrenches himself away from her, finally, clambering over the seats and gagging like the mere idea makes him nauseous.

“Ew! Ew! I do not have a thing for Cecil, oh my gods, I might as well marry my cousin! Augh! I’m gonna throw up for real! Why would you even say that, oh my —”

“Alright, alright!” she laughs, kicking his rapidly repeating shoulder. “Holy Jesus, you are dramatic. I should call up camp and tell him you’re out here retchin’ at the mere thought.”

“Good,” Will says darkly, voice muffled from how deeply his head is buried in his hands, “make sure to also tell him he is a weasel.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And that I am going to deface his vintage Hot Wheels collection.”

“Y’all have a strange friendship.”

“He’s not my friend, I am stuck with him via circumstance and because he refuses to leave me alone.”

She holds up her hands in surrender, refraining from pointing out the friendship bracelet he is currently wearing with a CM on it and that has not left his wrist in four years.

“Alright, alright. Not Cecil.”

He scoffs in agreement, ignoring her rolled eyes.

She wracks her brain for other boys he’s brought up in their phone calls, aside from people in passing. Mostly he mentions patients, really, answering her endless inquiries — it will never stop astounding her that he baby can practically sew heads back on bodies; she tells people he’s in med school and preens at their wide, impressed eyes — but there are other people he mentions, in between that and the pranks he’s frequently pulling with his friends.

“There was that boy you were so excited to keep around. Nick?”

“His name is Nico,” he corrects, and then immediately goes scarlet. “I — I mean, I have a friend, named Nico, not that —”

Her grin gets sharp as nails.

“He is — unwell! He’s travelled a lot, he needs monitoring so I am — monitoring him, you know, out of concern for his safety —”

“Nico and Wi-ill, sitting in a tree —”

“Oh my gods are you five —”

“You are steaming! I can actually feel the heat pouring off of you right now! You love him, you want to kiss him, you —”

“I am never telling you anything again in my entire life!” he hollers. “Never! Next time I think I should tell you something I’m just gonna — swallow glass!”

She snickers. “Drama queen.”

He sticks out his tongue as she situates herself back in her own seat, turning the keys in the engine. His puts his dirty converse on the dash despite her grouching, reaching over to fight her for control of the radio, flapping his hand excitedly when she lets him win and something bright and overdone starts playing. His bandage stays where it is, tied loosely around his wrist.

“I’m glad you told me, you know.”

He smiles, small and genuine, leaning into the palm she cups around his cheek. The dimple in the centre of his right cheek is back, the scrunch of his freckled nose. She presses a lingering kiss smack dab in the centre of his forehead and he leans into it, trusting.

“I know.”

[mcroutfits]

once upon a time on warped tour 2004...

mystical mcr belts appearance (both the bat and pink one) + mikey's the smiths' t-shirt on frank + bloody gerard's tie + ray man of god on a pair of jean and a band shirt

from alamy.com / by ashley maile

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest Seven Deadly Sins pop-up event.

Some Real Good

Prompt: Gluttony | Word Count: 1313 | Rating: T | CW: Alcohol Consumption | POV: Gareth | Relationship(s): Gareth & Eddie BFFs, Background Steddie | Tags: Corroded Coffin on Tour, Bus Travel, Road Manager Steve Harrington, Eddie: The Magpie, Gareth & Steve: Who Love Him Anyway

"What do you have in here, bricks?" Gareth asks, picking up one of Eddie's duffle bags, trying to wrangle it up into the open storage bin under the bus. It's not easy. For some reason Eddie's stuffed the fucker completely full today, and it's unwieldy.

"Yep. And sex toys," Eddie quips, and Gareth rolls his eyes. Unfortunately, Gareth knows that's not where Eddie keeps all the dirty shit he travels with. Because Gareth's seen it all, even if he wishes otherwise.

Eddie finally gets it wedged underneath, and they can roll out.

Meaning, Gareth forgets about the overfilled luggage, until the same thing happens at the next stop. It's definitely not going under there this time, because Gareth swears it's getting bulkier by the stop. 

Eddie's trying to re-zip the damn thing after rearranging, and it's clearly not going well. 

Gareth moves to squeeze both sides together so Eddie can zip it easier, when he catches sight of what's inside. 

"What the fuck?" Gareth says, letting go and picking up a travel size bar of soap, surely from one of the many hotel rooms they've stayed in. He digs his hand in, combing through the mess of small, plastic bottles. It's filled to the absolute brim with travel toiletries, and a variety of shit from green rooms. Mini liquor bottles from airplanes.

Eddie snatches the bag back from Gareth's hands, "They're free. We're supposed to take them." 

"No, we're supposed to use them if we need them. Which I know you don't. I've seen your bathroom bag."

It's definitely fully stocked.

"Well, someday I might need them," Eddie argues.

"Jesus Christ, Eddie. No you won't. This is insane, even for you."

Eddie's part magpie, they all know that, but this is a bridge too far.

"You never know," Eddie says, like he's being sane and rational. He's being neither.

"How is this - you - hoarding them under the bus any better than just leaving them behind? They still aren't being used, Eddie. And now we're just the ones lugging them around."

"I want them," Eddie argues and Gareth's hands find his own hair, pulling. Eddie can rarely be rationalized with on a good day, but this is beyond. 

"You will never need these. We can buy shampoo and soap. We do buy shampoo and soap. In appropriate quantities and in brands we actually like. You damn well know Steve has never once let any of us run out. The minute I toss an empty, a new one magically appears. Which, awesome. But also scary, because that means your boyfriend knows far too much about what I do in the bathroom."

Eddie smiles, but then is clearly headed back towards making excuses for his insane life decisions. His gluttony. His hoarding. 

"But-" 

Gareth pivots. He might not be able to reason with a crazy Eddie, but he knows someone who can, does, "Does Steve know about this? Because he's gonna shit."

And he will. Steve doesn't stand for superfluous anything on the road. He has everything down to a science. Last week he even made Gareth get rid of one of his jackets, because he'd apparently crossed the threshold of the acceptable amount of luggage, at least as far as Steve was concerned. 

Gareth liked that jacket.

So, Eddie squirreling away all the soap he can carry for no damn good reason? Not efficient in the slightest. Steve can't know about this, and he's gonna be pissed when he finds out. For sure.

"Just help me unload it," Eddie demands, and before he can ask what he means by that, Eddie slides forward the sticker-laden dead with the warped lid. Instead of tossing it, Goodie wants it fixed, so it's been taking up space, but when Eddie flips it open, it's absolutely jam-packed with more of his secret stash. 

"Oh my god. Wait, is this a growing up poor thing?" Gareth asks, and Eddie pauses. Gareth never wanted for anything. It may have just been the two of them, but Mama Jones had it under control.

If this is that, well, maybe Gareth could understand. Could give him a pass.

Eddie gives him a withering look, saying, "No. Wayne would hate this, too."

"Then why are you doing it? Damn," Gareth asks, laughing.

"Because we paid for it. And they just throw them away if we don't take them."

"That's crazy talk," Gareth answers.

"They do! And it's built into the price. Of the hotel rooms. The flights. The gig contracts."

"Eddie," Gareth says, then changes tactics. "Fine. I'm sure that's true. But, just. Move. Let me," Gareth says, nudging Eddie off to the side. "Get on the bus."

And somehow, Eddie listens, and does.

When Steve sidles up to him, and sees the red milk crates surrounding Gareth's feet in the hotel parking lot, Gareth sorting the loot, he's instantly irritated, "What're you doing? What's all this doing here?" Steve asks, arms waving. "For fuck's sake, Gareth, what have you been taking all this shit for? Do you know how much this extra weight affects gas mileage?"

And Steve seems to be doing that math in his head.

Gareth grinds his teeth together, "This was not me. This was Eddie."

"Oh," Steve says. Immediately changing his tune, softening, which is fucking annoying. Eddie would never have to get rid of a jacket.

Steve then asks, "What's the plan?"

Gareth nudges the crate full of liquor bottles, and they all clink together, "Day drinking?"

Steve puts his hands on his hips. 

Gareth picks up the one full of shampoo, "I was thinking about donating them to a homeless shelter or something. My mom volunteers at one back home. Says they always needed stuff like this. Eddie hoarding them isn't helping anyone, it's just as wasteful as leaving them to be tossed, right?"

And Steve pauses. Thinking.

"You can't donate liquor to the homeless," Steve says.

And Gareth laughs, "Well, I didn't mean the liquor. That we'll keep. Have some fun. I'm gonna deserve a drink or ten after sorting out this mess your boyfriend has made."

"Oh, he's my boyfriend when you don't like whatever he's doing, but your best friend any other time?"

Gareth laughs, and nudges against Steve's shoulder, "Exactly."

"Alright," Steve concedes.

Great. Awesome. Gareth had the idea, the plan, but he definitely needs Steve to be the one to figure out how to implement it.

And Steve does.

From then on, the sorted milk crates live in the under bus storage compartment. And now it's not just Eddie, no, now all of them save and throw their unused freebies into the correct ones after each stop. Soap. Shampoo. Conditioner. Lotion. And if they ask the front desk for toothbrushes or razors that they've forgotten from time to time, well, then that's their own business. 

And yeah, the liquor they keep for themselves. But they don't let it languish, hidden away. Instead they drink it, doing shots, playing cards as they rumble down the highway, getting tipsy as they cheat more and more blatantly at cards the drunker they get. It's fun. 

When a crate of toiletries gets full, Steve has a plan, a connection, of where they can donate it, wherever they currently are in the country.

It really doesn't take long for word to spread, and then there's a charitable foundation with a damn good purpose bearing Corroded Coffin's name, and several other touring bands helping. Reaching out to Steve. Their reputation precedes them: they're the heavy metal band that gives back. That they don't destroy hotel rooms, just rescue the toiletries from them that were destined for a landfill anyway.

Before long, many hotel managers start meeting them at check-in, handing over boxes of toiletries they want to donate to the cause.

Eddie's hoarding, his gluttony, turned on its head, and instead is being used for some real good.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[dsireland86]

Can you please write something about that new Folio pic x fem reader i am obsessed with that picture

This one, right? If not, I'm very sorry, but I'm obsessed with this one and it makes me think happy thoughts, lol!

Photoshoot

18+ below the cut

Tag list: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @nyxthedestroyerofworlds-deactiv @missduffsblog @bngurngheart  @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @fadingangelwisp

"Where is Folio? Folio!! Dude, where the hell are you?"

Bryan's voice echoed through the halls of the stadium, ringing out louder than an intercom. It was annoying, and you'd do anything to get him to stop.

"Bryan, please shut up," you hollered back, rolling your eyes, letting your head fall into your hands.

"Well then, find your man. It's like he's vanished into thin air.”

"Yeah, Y/N, find your man."

Noah appeared, mocking Bryan and earning himself a nice slap in the stomach.

"Ooff," Noah cringed.

"Have you seen Folio?" Bryan asked, raising his brows at Noah. "I really need to get the new shots of all of you before the heathens start pouring in."

"Heathens, you mean fans," I chuckled, knowing how much Bryan hated people bombarding into his space when he was trying to work.

"As a matter of fact, I have. He and Nick went to get haircuts."

You knew this already but pretended not to just so you could watch Bryan get all worked up and irritated. He even looked over at you, narrowing his eyes.

"You already knew that, didn't you?"

Trying to hide your grin, you covered your mouth with your palm.

"I don't know what you're talking about," staring out into the gigantic field before you. The stadium could hold almost fifty thousand people, and the show tonight was sold out. When the hell did their small little Warped Tour band get so big?

"Y/N, I swear to god, if you don't tell him to get back here in an hour, you're dead," Bryan threatened you, half grinning.

"Then Matt won't have an assistant," you said sweetly and gave him an innocent look.

"You better not fuck with my assistant, Bryan," Matt barked, carrying a box of cables and handing them off to you.

"Take those down to the front for me?"

"Sure thing, Boss," you smiled, taking the box from him.

Matt rolled his eyes. "Don't call me, boss. Remember, I've seen you naked."

"Oh my god, that was not my fault! You walked in on me showering!"

"I never said it was your fault," Matt laughed, bopping your nose with his finger.

"Kiss ass," Noah said under his breath.

"Fuck you, Noah," you retorted, knowing very well it was all a joke.

"Oh baby, I would love it if you would!"

You rolled your eyes and kept walking.

"In your dreams, Noah," you yelled out.

"Already have," he yelled back.

You just kept walking, too embarrassed to look back.

Walking down the white brick hallway, dragging your fingers along the cool stones as you did, you could hear voices coming from up ahead, followed by loud laughter.

Stopping suddenly, you looked into the faces of the two guys responsible for all the drama earlier and one solid look at Folio, and you were absolutely done for. The way he smiled at you had you melting into a puddled mess.

"I'm gonna," Nicholas said, looking from you to Folio, nodding his head towards the stairs.

"Yeah, alright. We'll be up in a few."

Folio couldn't take his eyes off you and the feeling was mutual. His fresh haircut, neatly shaved on the sides and around the back, parted perfectly on the left side right above his ear so the longer part on top could be swept over and back was doing things for you. He had the right amount of gel in it, too, which gave it the sexy wet look that always drove you crazy.

You were aching to run your fingers through it, to take it between your fingers and yank on its roots, pulling those familiar grunts and groans out of Folio that always made your core moist and ready.

He knew you were thinking things. His sweet little grin proved it.

"We've got time."

You smiled, walking your fingers up your man's chest that was covered by a thin black shirt. The scent of his cologne made you lightheaded and weak at the knees because of how fucking good it smelled.

"Bryan will kill me if I keep you any longer, especially when he sees Nicholas and not you."

Folio stared down at you, laying a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Yeah, but I've got a problem that needs fixing before I can go up there."

You chuckled, letting your fingers wander over Folio's neck, taking in his haircut and everything about him that you loved.

"Oh, you do? Sounds like someone is making excuses."

Folio took one of your hands and drove it down until it hit the very thing he was intending for it to touch.

"I'm so fucking hard for you, baby. I need you to fix me before I can go up there."

You pulled back and looked at him and the one little glint in his eyes was all it took for you to give in.

Folio drank you in, watching as you straddled his thigh. His hands laid loosely on your hips, avoiding the temptation to yank down your pants to feed his hungry appetite.

Your hands found his hair, and instantly his head fell back against the couch, mouth falling open to release a small soft moan as you began sliding your fingers through the soft wet like strands of his hair like you had imagined earlier.

Your fingers raked over his scalp, massaging the top and the sides, making Folio nothing but puddy in your hands.

"Kiss me," he murmured, looking up at you sweetly. You obliged him, grabbing the back of his head and bringing his mouth yours, kissing him as if your life depended on it.

He groaned against your lips and you felt the strangled sound in your clit, making your panties a little wetter.

Trailing your lips down his jaw, the tanned, tender skin of Folio's neck looked too delicious to not taste. Latching your lips to his neck, you sucked his skin, running your tongue and lips over it, making him whimper beneath you. His slight gasp and thrusting of his hips made you smile.

"You still want me to fix you," you whispered, leaning your forehead against his, clinging to his broad shoulders.

Folio swallowed. "Fuck yes, please." He grabbed your ass and pushed your lower body into him, slightly bucking his hips.

"I've been fantasizing about this all week," he confessed, grinning weakly.

You hummed in approval, dragging your hands down his neck and the front of his chest, watching his eyes grow wider with anticipation. It made you giggle as you kissed his pouty lips again. The smile that spread across Nick's own face made your heart race.

Dropping to your knees before him, your fingers trailed along the zipper of his pants. You lifted the bottom of his shirt just enough to slip your fingers beneath it and find the top button of his jeans, undoing it. He lifted up as you tugged his jeans down, revealing his already half hardened covered cock The sight made you weak, making you want him ever more. Removing his jeans fully and dropping them on the floor next to you, you proceeded to remove his boxers, taking a deep breath and biting your bottom lip the moment his cock was fully exposed.

His thickness, the precum covering the swollen pink tip, the ridges and veins you loved to drag your tongue over, all of it was driving you mad, making you desperate for him.

Folio's hands were laying flat on the couch beside him, waiting for you to make your move. You looked up at him as though you were as desperate and needy as he was. Dragging his tongue between his lips, a small smile, almost like a smirk, graced Folio’s lips.

"Well, are you gonna fix me, sweetheart? Hmm? You gonna wrap those pretty pink lips around my cock?"

Folio slipped his hand behind your neck and applied some light pressure, signaling what he wanted you to do. With one hand on his thigh, you softly gripped his swollen shaft, sliding your hand all the way down to the base, then back up, sighing over the feeling of it in your hand. Nick let his head fall against the back of the couch, licking his lips and rolling his head side to side with his eyes shut tight, moaning softly.

"Fuck, baby, you make that feel so good," he smiled, when he opened his eyes to look at you. The little tendrils of hair that fell over his forehead made him so irresistible.

"You like how it feels in your hand, don't you?"

"Mmmhmm, I do," you agreed, sitting up and kissing Folio again, pleased to see the satisfied look on his face.

The warmth of him in your hands was intoxicating. You felt every little throb and twitch each time you squeezed and pulled or went back down. Looking down and watching the small trickles of precum spill from the tiny slit on his pink head hit your clit, sending strong tingling vibrations through your body.

Keeping direct eye contact with him, you lowered your head and took him in your mouth, sliding your tongue down the backside of his shaft before closing your lips around it, moving your head up and down. Folio's head fell back again with the tip of his tongue protruding between his lips as quiet mumbles of "fuck" and "oh my god" fell from his lips. He was in heaven, and you were the one taking him there.

Rolling your tongue around the ridges of his cock, tasting the saltiness of the precum seeping through, you looked up at him with all the love and adoration you felt for him, hoping he could feel the emotions coming from you as you took him fully in, down to the base. Folio jerked, thrusting his hips and forcing his cock deeper into your mouth.

"Oh god, baby, I love you so much," he groaned while gently holding the back of your head. Nick pumped into you, hitting that perfect spot in the back of your throat that made you gag. Saliva trickled down your chin the harder you sucked him, forcing his fingers to tangle in your hair.

"Fuck, yeah just like that baby, oh god," Folio muttered, bucking his hips. "Good girl, take it all baby, deep throat my cock. Show me how much you want it."

His words were music to your eyes. His praises were the light to your soul. There was nothing you wouldn't do for this man under you. He had you entirely forever.

Using your hand, you began to pump his shaft while still sucking and licking, hollowing out your cheeks until they were sore. Nick pushed himself deeper, spreading your slips apart, and guiding every inch of his shaft to the back of your throat.

"Holy fuck, sweetheart, how are you so fucking good at this," Folio laughed, grabbing the back of my hair. He gripped it tightly, directing your movements and moaning loudly, begging you not to stop. You continued bobbing your head up and down, sucking on his cock and massaging his balls, the softness of them feeling so light and perfect in my hand.

"Oh my god, baby, that's it, use your tongue. Make me cum. Fuck, fuck!" he panted.

With every hard thrust, Folio's cock tightened in your mouth. He was so close.

Wrapping your hand around his shaft again, you pumped him tightly, sucking his tip and nipping at the end of it, making him writhe in absolute pleasure.

"Jesus! Fuck, baby I'm about to cum! Take it all, Y/N. Make me cum baby, please!"

Sucking his tender head a few more times did it.

Folio groaned, his hips jerking violently, and his warm cum shot out hitting the back of your throat. You swallowed, drinking everything he poured into you.

"Ughhh, holy fuck, baby," Folio gasped, voice raspy and out of breath. You sat back on your feet wiping your mouth with your shirt, smiling.

"So," you stated, helping him get his pants on and fix himself before climbing onto his lap and latching your hands onto his shoulders. Folio secured you to him with his hands pressed firmly against your ass.

"So," he repeated, accepting the kiss you laid on his lips.

"Still broken?"

His laughter vibrated onto you.

"If broken means I get to have that every time just so you'll fix me, then baby, I'll stay forever broken for you."

Folio rubbed his nose against yours before placing a small kiss on the end of it.

"Forever broken, huh? Maybe that should become our phrase, like our code word or something," you chuckled, laying into him. That's when you gasped, knowing Bryan was going to kill you for what you did.

"Seriously, Y/N! A hickey! Right in the middle of the side of his neck! Of all the fucking places," Bryan cried.

Noah snickered, covering his mouth with his fist before turning around and looking over at you.

"Busted," he croaked.

You glared at him, holding up the middle finger.

Noah shrugged, giving you that shit eating grin of his. You rolled your eyes, turning away from him.

"Dude, fix your hair," Nicholas barked at Folio, flicking the random pieces of stay hair.

"Get off me, Nick, I got it! I'm not a little kid."

"Yeah, obviously. Y/N made that perfectly clear," Noah teased, earning him another heated, annoyed glare from you.

"I'm sorry, Bryan. It wasn't my fault," you apologized, trying not to laugh.

Bryan's face fell. "Not your fault? Y/N, Folio didn't do that to himself."

"Yeah, I know, but that hair cut, and that face, and the way he smells, I just, I couldn't... ugghh, fuck!" you grumbled in frustration.

Folio looked at you grinning from ear to ear as Alana tried to cover as much of the hickey as she could, finally giving up.

"It'll work for the show, but not for the picture," she chuckled.

"Fine whatever," Bryan frowned, tossing Folio a black ski mask. "Put that over your shoulder, and follow me."

"There," Bryan pointed towards a white sheet hanging up against the wall in front of him. "I was going to have you look at the camera, like the last one we did like this, but now," he groaned, glaring at me, "you'll just have to look sideways. So, look at your girl toy over there, and don't move."

Nicholas and Noah were rolling with laughter as Folio turned sideways for the shot. He looked straight at you, sighing as you smiled at him.

[oldiesstationlover11607]

Begging on my knees for the jealous Gerard fic.

Jealous - Gerard Way x Iero!Reader

Warnings: Alcohol consumption (drunk gerard), smoking, violence, jealous gerard way, panic attacks

Word Count: 2343

A/N: Sorry this took so long! Here we go!!!!

“Bert! Where the fuck are you?” I shouted, running behind our tour bus. We’d been on Warped Tour for a few weeks and it had been the best few weeks of my life. My Chem had slowly been getting more popular but it only been a week since Gee had introduced me to Bert–we got along instantly.

“I’m on the bus!” He responded, sticking his foot out the door. I jumped up onto the bus and see him sitting on one of the benches smoking a cigarette. “What’s up?” He asked, smirking at me. 

“Not much. Gee’s drunk as fuck, Mikey’s hanging out with Alicia, Frank’s out with fans and God knows where Ray is,” I laughed. Bert sat there running a hand through his greasy long black hair, staring at me. As much as Bert was my friend, he was always staring at me–which I’m knew both Gerard and Frank would get annoyed at. Being the only girl in a male dominated rock band and scene was difficult, especially with Frank Iero being your older brother and Gerard Way being your boyfriend.

“What’s new with you?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “Nothing. I like the new hair though, did Gerard do that for you?” Yesterday, Gerard had showed up in our bus with a grocery bag of hair dye, deciding to dye his growing roots red instead of black like the rest of his hair. After talking the previous night about our favourite colours–I mentioned mine was pink–he handed me a bottle of hot pink red-ish dye and we spent the night in the bathroom. I nodded and smiled at him. I let out a yawn and ran a hand through my hair. 

“You tired babe?” Bert let out a small laugh before opening his arms to me. 

“You know Gerard’s gonna be pissed if he walks in on you guys like that,” Quinn walked into the lounge, a Mountain Dew in his hand. 

“We’re just hanging out, it’s nothing more than that,” I looked up at Bert who was already looking down at me with a devilish grin. “Oh shut up.” I grabbed out my phone and started checking my texts.

Frank - 5 unread messages.

Frank - Gee’s pissed as fuck I’m gonna have to come find you in a second

Frank - Where are you?

Frank - He’s literally crying and asking for you

Frank - I’m coming to look around the busses

Frank - You’re not in our bus. Gerard is literally bawling his fuhking eyes out. And I’ve now got Mikey and Ray looking for you as well. 

I stared at the little electronic device in my hand–which I couldn’t afford until a few months ago. Quinn looked at me before letting out a sigh.

“Someone’s looking for you aren’t they?”

I nodded–of course he fucking knew that. Quinn knew everything. 

“Who?” Bert asked, letting out a sigh. 

“Frank. Apparently Gee is asking for me,” I responded, just as a set of footsteps came from the door. Mikey. 

“Hey Mikey-boy!” Bert shouted, laughing loudly. Mikey stood there, arms crossed and an unimpressed look plastered on his face. 

“What are you two doing? Gerard has been begging for you for the last hour. Need I remind you that you’re dating my brother.” I moved out of Bert’s arms and stood up. 

“We’re just hanging out Mikey, nothing is happening at all. Quinn was here the whole time I swear,” I turned my head to look at Quinn who nodded, confirming my story. 

“Well we’ve gotta go now, Gerard kinda needs you,” Mikey looked at me with genuine concern. Of course he needed me. We went out into the blazing heat to find the others. Frank was looking around the merch stands with Ray–who wasn’t paying much attention to what he was doing. 

“Where the fuck were you?” Frank ran up to me, a mixed expression of ‘pissed off’ and worry plastered on his face. Mikey spoke for me.

“Hanging with Bert and Quinn.”

“Where’s Gerard?” I asked, ignoring the topic. Frank looked towards our tour bus and then down at the ground. Immediately I turned walk towards the bus but was stopped by a hand wrapped around my wrist. Mikey.

“I’ve never seen him like this before, just be gentle with him.” Mikey’s definitely seen Gerard at both his best and worst.

Walking towards the tour bus, I took a peek through the door but didn't see anyone sitting in the main lounge. I hopped into the bus, knowing Gerard was probably laying in his bunk.

“Gee?” I muttered, pulling back the curtain. He looked like crap. Drunk and exhausted.

“Baby?” he rolled over so he was facing me, the smell of alcohol wafting into my face. I'm disappointed in him.

“I thought we agreed you weren’t gonna drink anymore,” I tucked loose strands of his messy hair out of his face, finally able to see him properly. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened,” he moved over, making just enough room for me to sit at the end of the bed. Grabbing his phone, he started flipping through text messages and notifications. 

“Next time you want a drink just come find me, I was hanging out with Bert and Mikey came in all freaked out about you. He’s your little brother Gee, you need to be a good role model,” I sighed, holding his hand. Gerard just nodded, not paying attention but I knew the message was going through. 

“Wait, why were you hanging out with Bert?” He looked up from his phone with a slightly annoyed expression. 

“I got bored so thought I’d spend some time with the other bands.”

“Then why the fuck is Quinn texting me about how Bert’s trying to quote ‘put the moves on you’?” Wait? What? What the fuck. Quinn? Bert wouldn’t try to do that, I was dating one of his best friends for god’s sake. I sat there speechless, looking at him with a blank expression. It was clear he'd already made up his mind as he got out of his bunk and started putting his shoes on. 

“No, don’t do anything that’s going to mess things up, you’re already drunk,” I begged, grabbing hold of his hand. 

“I’m not going to let that dick try and take you away from me. It already took me 3 years of being in love with you to actually have the guts to ask you to be my girlfriend, I’m not losing you now,” he ran a hand through his greasy black and red mop of hair. I sighed, knowing there wasn't much I could do to stop this. Gerard stopped for a second, looking at me up and down. 

“You know I love you, right?” Of course I knew that. I'd known that since the day he told me he loved me, nothing had ever changed. I just missed the person he once was–the real him. Looking up at him, I nodded with a small smile resting on my lips. His hands reached down to cup my face as his forehead met mine. “You are mine, and it’ll always be that way.” He leaned down to kiss my upper lip, the taste of beer lingering for a while after he pulled away. “I’m going to talk to him, are you coming or not?” He grabbed his hoodie and stood, towering over me.

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

We both walked over to The Used’s bus and Gerard stood just outside the door. He gestures for me to get onto the bus and as I took a step I was immediately met with Bert and Quinn shouting at each other, stoping once they saw me.

“I thought you went to find Gee. Did you come crawling back for more?” Bert let out a laugh and moved towards me, arms spread out. I took a step back, bumping into Gee's chest, the slight chuckle he lets out hitting me hard.

“What do you want?” Bert sighed. 

“Why the fuck did I find out that you were spending time with my girlfriend through Quinn?”

Bert turned to face Quinn who shrugged his shoulders. 

“I don’t know man, she came here to hang out while you were off getting drunk. I didn’t do anything she didn’t want me to do.”

Well, that was going to set Gerard off.

As if on cue Gerard launched at Bert, punching him in the face. Quinn tried to separate them as fast as he could but they were both stronger than him.

“Go get Frank, he’ll know what to do!” He shouted over the two. I ran out and scanned the immediate area. Where to fuck was everyone? Ray and Mikey walked past me, both looking slightly concerned at my state. 

“Oh my god, what’s wrong?” Ray asked. 

“Where the fuck is Frank? Gerard is literally fighting Bert in the bus. Quinn told me to go find him.” I was breathless and sweaty, finally feeling the impact of the heat. Mikey was already running towards the bus as Ray took me to find Frank. It felt like the world was closing in on me. “Ray,” I panted, knowing he couldn't hear me, too busy looking for Frank in the crowds of people. “Ray.” He rans towards a nearby tent, finally laying eyes on my brother. He says something to Frank, who looks over to me. It was a hot day–hotter than a normal warped tour day. I couldn't remember how much water I'd had but I stood there watching Frank look at me, squinting his eyes. “Ray.” I muttered before everything turned black and I hit the ground. 

...

“Holy shit is she dead?” Bert’s voice. 

“She’s not dead you dickwad, she just passed out.” Frank. I felt and heard people shuffling around me but the air in the room was cold, so I must've been inside. 

“I feel terrible. This is all your fucking fault Bert, she wouldn’t have gone looking for Frank if you didn’t fucking cause this problem.” Gerard. 

“Well you were fucking drunk.” Again, Bert. A hand tucked strands of my hair behind my ear, which I could only assume was Gerard’s or maybe Frank’s. 

“Would you two shut up, I’m actually worried about her,” Mikey’s voice was quiet and shaky. He sounded like he’d been crying. 

“She’s gonna be okay Mikey. We got to her fast. I think she’s waking up anyways, see she’s trying not to smile,” Ray laughed. He’d caught me. I opened my eyes and let out a small laugh. 

“Stop it,” I dragged out trying to sit up slowly. “How long did it take for you two to stop fighting once you realised I was dying?” 

Frank laughed loudly. “That’s the first thing you want to know?” I looked around at Gerard who was staring at the ground. “It took them 15 minutes to properly stop bickering once we brought you inside.”

“I’m sorry.” Gerard’s voice was flat. He was sober now. 

“Mikey?” I ignored Gerard to focus on the boy that was sitting on my right side. “Are you okay?” I asked as I caught him wiping away tears. 

“You scared the shit out of me.” He looked down at me.

“Oh Mike. I’m not going anywhere,” I pulled him in tight for a hug. “Could you guys maybe leave Gee and I alone?” I looked at Frank as if he was the one to make the decision. He was going to say no.

“Alright, come on guys,” he said, shocking me. Frank escorted everyone out before flashing me a quiet smile and leaving.

Gerard and I sat there alone in the room. 

“What happened, Gee?” I started before he had the opportunity to. 

“You got dehydrated. I’m sorry baby, I’m so sorry–”

“Stop it. You don’t need to be sorry. I just want to know how I ended up on our bus.” Gerard nodded and explained that Frank had carried me onto the bus and Ray ran to tell everyone else. I watched him explain, trying to find the right words. He looked nervous. Like the first time he told me he loved me.

“–And then you woke up,” he finished. 

“You’re so pretty when you think I’m mad at you Gee,” I smiled softly. 

“What?” He laughed nervously, an unsure grin growing on his lips. 

“I’m not mad at you, I just wanted you to stop fighting with Bert. And stop drinking.”

He moved so I was sitting in between his legs, his arms wrapped around me. 

“I’m trying to stop drinking. It’s just hard for me.” He nuzzled his head into my shoulder. 

“I love you so much. I know you can get sober if you really want to but right now it’s really hurting our relationship. Just remember I love you though.” I turn around so I’m straddling him and cup his face. 

“I love you too baby. I’m sorry I got so worked up about Bert,” he pressed kisses on both my left and right temples, moving down my jaw till he reached my lips. 

“Gee the others are gonna be back any minute,” I mumbled, running my fingers through his hair. 

“Let them see.” He pressed his lips to mine like was desperate for me. Gee’s lips had always either tasted like alcohol or a mix of vanilla and diet coke. He deepened the kiss by grasping the back of my neck. 

“Would you two get a room?”

Frank and Mikey interrupt us in a roar of laughter. I got off Gee and he stood up, lifting me onto his back–giving me a piggyback ride to the bunks. 

“Have fun you two!” Frank giggled.  

//

REQUESTS OPEN

[warnersister]

Post Show Pleazures (Twizted Bliss) - Rockstar!Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

[Bradley Bradshaw x reader, rooster x reader]

Summary: your band was performing as DaggeR 1’s warmup act on their world tour; a group significantly younger than the Nu metal heads - and Rooster thought he could handle having you around, could handle his own hard on’s. But you’re a month in and Manchester proves otherwise.

Warnings: smut, age gap relationship 35//24, degradation, p in v, no protection, oral (m receiving), begging, basically Roo being a perv

This was originally about Munky from Korn, but it didn’t do well so if you’re into Korn maybe check out the original here

Rooster was a respectful guy, he’s midway through his umpteenth fucking world tour for God’s sake, a grown ass man. He kept his distance, stayed way back, promised himself he wouldn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable; only a young thing after all.

It was all fun and games until it came time for the bands to be introduced to one another. DaggeR 1 had sit in their studio and their manager had put on your music for them all to listen to before they agreed to anything, just like them - a Nu metal mashup with screaming and incoherency every now and then. And they had to admit, you could fucking sing.

And then it was organised, the posters printed, the ads sent out - Twizted Blizter would front for DaggeR 1 in their upcoming tour, formally meeting the week prior in order to get all your affairs straight. “I’m telling you dude she’s real good” Jake said, pushing open the door to the studio as himself and Rooster discussed you.

Rooster stopped in his tracks when he was faced with a young woman with her hands on her hips, stood like some undead Avril Lavigne, smoky eyeshadow, pierced brow, sharp dark nails and this stupid shit eating smirk that he could kiss off your face- wait what?

“Hey! This is the band I was telling you guys about!” Jake introduced you all to each member of the band, Rooster’s eyes lingering on you a little more than necessary. And as you shook his hand and your tongue protruded to wet your blackened lips, teeth bared as you grinned up at him and voice a hell of a lot softer than he expected judging on your voice’s ability to warp into some hellish chant. “It’s a pleasure to meet you” you say meekly, nails scratching his skin slightly as he reluctantly pulled his hand away from your own. “You’ve got rhythm” he tells you and you smile again, appreciatively “that’s what they all say” you reply with a wink. He hadn’t a chance to compute that underlying meaning that sentence suggested, before you shook Coyote’s hand.

“Y’ wanna watch the band?” Coyote asked, walking out of his dressing room; beer in hand. Rooster looked at him and shrugged. “Alright man” your set had already started, band already getting into their stride as the beat gyrated through the venue’s flooring. Rooster took a swig from the bottle as he watched you throw profanities into the mic; hair frazzled around your head, makeup running, sweat dripping off your body, nails digging into your thighs and creating crescent shaped indentations beginning to leak with blood as you scraped them up your skin like a satanic tattoo artist.

Rooster barely made it through the first song before he had to force his way back to the bathrooms, just to rub one out before the show - angrily cursing himself as he hated the way he thought about you, the way you carried yourself, the way he could have you. You were over a decade younger than him and this was disgusting. But as he climaxed and moaned out your name, it felt so goddamn right.

“Mr Bradshaw?” He heard from behind him as he prepared for his own set, head still foggy. He turned to see you staring up at him through your lashes, fingers on one hand fiddling with the index nail on the other, nervously chewing your lip. He gulped at the way you called him. “Yeah hun?” He found himself saying, like some pensioner talking to the teenage intern at the nutcase ward. “Did you like our set?” You asked him, tone dripping with nerves. “Holy fuck yeah it sure was good” he tells you with a smile “really?” Your face lit up as you took a step forward and he certainly didn’t step back. “Yeah. Damn good singer you are.” He tells you and you giggle giddily. “Thank you” you tell him, appreciatively. “I really look up to you as an artist, Mr Bradshaw.” You tell him, honestly. And he almost can’t help but think your honey-laced words are fakery for the horny shit you were doing ten minutes ago. “You do?” He found himself asking, dreamily. Get your shit together, man. You nodded in response. “It’s an honour to be working with you and your band.” You say with a child-like grin, your eyes darting down and up again as fast as they had. “Best of luck for your set.” You said, taking a sip of water. “Not that you need it” you tell him, pivoting and walking in the other direction.

Rooster sighs heavily and runs a hand over his face, seeing his flustered reflection in the mirror across from him, distracted by the obvious wet patch on his trousers. Did you see that? Shit.

And that’s how it went for the rest of the North America tour. You’d play, he’d rub one out, and then he’d head to the stage already dripping in sweat as he’d see your eyes watching him tentatively.

It was on the way to the UK tour when the two bands were mingling on the plane, Rooster excusing himself to get a drink and walking past your group. He looked at your face, sleeping soundly in the arms of your drummer who looked like a shitty Travis Barker wannabe, who raised an eyebrow at Rooster and smirked.

He felt his nostrils flare as he walked on, having to force himself to walk past the two of you again only to see not-Travis stroking your hair and pushing it out of your face and Rooster could tell it was clearly for his benefit. He felt a twisting pang of jealously in his chest as whatshisface threaded a hand under your thighs to pull you closer. Rooster just shook his head and walked back to his seat.

God this is so fucking wrong.

Manchester, England. Ironically where your band formed so you knew exactly where all the best bars were in the area - and as usual, your band was on before DaggeR 1 - your expression hazy and dazed as you blared into the microphone, clawing at your own skin with such desperation Rooster so wished you’d take out on him. And of course, he had to have his inaugural trip to a more private area to sort out his predicament before anyone saw the boner he was nursing.

In his dressing room, he sat palming at the obvious tent in his pants. Cursing himself as he urged his cock for some sort of relief, moaning your name reiteratively like some sort of sickened chant. “Mr Bradshaw?” He heard your voice from the door as you looked at him with widened, evidently startled eyes. “Shit! I-” he began before you slammed the door behind you, him hearing a “sorry!” Squeaked from you and he rushed to pull his pants up and sprint for the door, grabbing your wrist before you could go anywhere. “Did you hear that?” He asked and you gulped with a slight nod. “Shit I’m so sorry-” he began as you pulled your hand away “I didn’t mean to interrupt-” “you must think I’m such a pervert.” He says, running his hands through his hair. “Look I’m so fucking sorry, you must think I’m a real creep, I’m so much older than you and I’m rubbing one out after your sets and it’s disgusting and-” he rants. “Mr Bradshaw” you cut him off and he looks at you. “It’s ok.” You say and he raises his brows. “It is?” You nod “it is perverted but it’s okay cause I get off to you too-” you say honestly and he grunts involuntarily. “You what?” “You heard me” you reply and he grits his jaw. “I can help you Mr Bradshaw-” “shit” he swears and drags you back into his dressing room, making sure to shut the door tightly and pushing you against it.

“Are you okay with what I’m ’bouta do to you?” He asks and you consent “I’m a grown ass woman Mr Bradshaw” you say “I’m okay with it” “shit call me that again” “Mr Bradshaw?” He groans “yeah that” “Mr Bradshaw” his knees go weak and he slinks back onto his couch with a groan, watching you sink to your knees as you undo his pants and palming him through his boxers. “Please forgive me I’m so disgusting” he says, as you take him into your hand “I’m a filthy pervert” he breathes as you lick a stripe up the bottom of his cock “you’re too pure for a sick old man like me” he says, as your head begins to bob “I don’t deserve this.” He says, embarrassed how quickly he was building up to his orgasm “please make me cum” he begs as you hollow out your cheeks and he shoots cum into the back of your throat, throwing his head back as he watches you swallow his cum through hooded eyelids.

“Shit” he groans as he pulls you forward as he stands up, laying you on your back on the couch “how much do you like these pants?” He asks and you shrug as he uses a decent deal of effort to rip the flimsy material along with your underwear. “They were expensive though-” you sigh “shit I’m sorry. I should’ve checked, I’m such a sleaze. So desperate for you. I’ll take you shopping, I sound like some goddamn sugar daddy-” “Bradley, it’s okay.” You tell him and he groans pathetically as he sinks into you, your arms reaching around his neck as he peppers kisses onto your stage-sweated face. “M sorry. ‘M such a perv.” He reiterates again and again and you shut him up by kissing him firmly on the lips and clawing your sharp nails into his back.

“You are a perv” you breathe “‘nd this shouldn’t feel right” you agree and he cries out “I look up to you” you say “and I’m letting you down” he groans, feeling you hook your legs around his waist. “But I can’t stop it’s so good” he moans as he cums inside of you, watching your face contort in pleasure as you came moments after. “Shit I came inside of you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” “you’re good” you breathe with a smile, catching your breath as he pulls out of you and provides you with an oversized pair of khakis in lieu of your trousers in odder to accommodate the lack there of, collecting himself and looking at you, hands delicately reaching up to cradle your face as he looks you over, touch so gentle as if you were an antique doll. “M sorry you’re too good for me. He says, kissing your forehead. “It’s okay Mr Bradshaw, I liked it.” He groaned as you kissed his palm and leant into his touch.

“Oh Mr Bradshaw, I made your back bleed” you say, eyes full of concern as a drop of blood seeps onto your thumb. He takes your hand in his and licks the blood off your thumb “good I deserve to be punished.” He says, walking you backward until your back hit the door, leaning against it and effectively trapping you on it as he leans down to pepper your lips with hot open mouth kisses. “M such a pervert”

“Two minutes, Rooster” you heard from beyond the door as he moaned, frustrated. “You’ll be great, Mr Bradshaw. Like you always are” you tell him, eyes full of pride. “And I’ll be in here when you’re done” you promise and he whimpers “make sure you don’t have the pants on” he says, before smacking his own head “asshole” he curses himself as you open the door “go be great, Rooster” you say as he walks over the threshold. “Don’t you want a shirt?” You ask and he walks away with a bleeding back “nah they can watch me bleed knownin’ it was you, princess” he says, thrusting his hands into his hair as he cursed himself for being such a crude and corruptive son of a bitch.

And he cried and fucked you all over again once the show was done, feeling every bit guilty- but not really.

And in the following show, Leeds, he sat through your whole set and as soon as you walked off stage, he picked you up at the waist and slung you over his shoulder, marching running to his dressing room not really taking care as to who sees, offering a cocky look to your drummer as you head past him. “Pervert” he says under his voice “hell yeah I am!” He shouts with a holler as he licked the exposed skin on your upper thigh, “and she’s gonna fuck me and call me names until I feel so guilty I cry!” slamming the door shut behind the two of you.

[chromations]

The Robert Plant post that's been on my mind since the jimmy post.

EDIT: tumblr fucked up and deleted half the post AND put it without tags. Now complete

It's easier to write about psychology I relate to. To dive into something so clear, so easy to point out the faults of. Writing Jimmy's story was easy. What I'm writing now is less than.

This is how Led Zeppelin impacted Robert Plant. As usual, feel free to add, and the rest is under the cut. This is gonna be sad (and long)

Anyone can spot how, now, Robert reflects on his Zeppelin days with disdain. He doesn't perform nor relate to the majority of his Zeppelin songs anymore. Of course, just as the rest of the band, he's sick of the press asking for another tour. Another reunion. Another reminder of a dark spot in who we see as the golden god.

What happened?

What *didn't* happen?? At first, Zeppelin started out and grazed the sun. And the sun had been spun for years, so to speak. Popularity, sex, riches, women, freedom, *music*. Who wouldn't want that? Of course, there had been the lyrics written by a guy in his early 20s, the many meanings eluding and warping to the ears of the listener. There was criticism over the different lifestyles, tear gassing, police raids, there was Jimmy and Lori. Even recounted by Jimmy Page (Through the On This Day feature), they'd perform in Memphis, only to be stopped by a man with a gun when they'd wanted to perform an encore.

Still, each life had its faults. Robert would write Sick Again's lyrics with the groupees in mind, with the underlying sadness for what Lori had gone through.

Come 1975, and the wax starts to melt. Jimmy starts on heroin at some point during their tours that year. After Plant's family flies out, he and Robert vacation in Morocco. After, in Greece, Robert is driving with his family, and they get into an accident: Almost fatal on Maureen, a broken ankle + elbow on Robert, and bruises on the kids. Back in England, they'd receive care... Only for Plant to have to leave England due to his tax exile. He'd spend the time in a wheelchair, writing and developing Presence. Achilles Last Stand, about his time in Morocco with Jimmy, previously called The Wheelchair Song. Tea For One, about the loneliness and despair on tour, of being away from his family. For Your Life is about a friend of Robert's who had been heavy in drugs. Quote from faroutmagazine, it's reflected that Presence was "a cry from the depths"/"a cry of survival"

Presence is often shat on for what's perceived as a lackluster, boring, rehashed album. While I see where these statements come from, Presence happens to be my favorite album.

In 76, Presence is released, and in the same year, Zeppelin's concert film The Song Remains The Same, to make up for the canceled tours in pursuit of Plant's recovery.

1977 comes around. American tour. Everyone's unsure if the band will perform the same after such a hiatus, but it works out. Mostly. Page, as in my other post, is emotionally unavailable, to say the least, in his own struggles. The band in total is still imbibing in heavy drug usage (JPJ, however, more discreet with his use and not to be found in embarrassing situations), but the tour breaks records, a heavy hitting comeback.

Icarus falls, the zeppelin crashes.

Come summer, the third leg just there, and Robert gets the call: Karac Plant, his son, passed while he was away. The cause had been an unknown stomach illness, and he couldn't have even been there for his son. Gut wrenching. Karac was 5.

Tour canceled, and the last time Zeppelin played North America, Plant flies back home with Bonham and Richard Cole at his side. Jimmy and Peter Grant remain in America, while Jones takes time for vacation. During his time of immense grief, Plant heavily considered quitting music all together to be a teacher, as he just wanted to be with his family. While everyone else was off flitting about, Robert says John Bonham was the only one really at his side for the entire process. Out of the members of Zeppelin, Bonzo was the only one attending Karac's funeral at Plant's side. The darkest, most heartbreaking moment of your life, and your friends aren't around (Of course Bonham was, of course he was around. They were best friends). Jones had said, later, with what Elvis dying, all he knew was that he (Robert) should have his space. Lacking etiquette and not knowing consolation shouldn't mean you (in context, Jones and Page) lack the ability to be there for your friend, though.

Robert never fully got over Karac's death. I wouldn't blame him. He wrote multiple songs over the years honoring his son (All My Love, Blue Train, I Believe).

In addition, he would have a talk with himself, in which he would quit drugs. Quote below.

After everything of 1977, the future of Led Zeppelin became uncertain. Just about silence for a long time, while Plant went through the grief process.  About 1977, he says: “[it was] the year it all stopped for me. Nothing could make it all right again and nothing ever will.” 

"During the absolute darkest times of my life when I lost my boy and my family was in disarray, it was Bonzo who came to me."

Finally, Page and Bonham convince Plant to stay in music, to stay with Zeppelin, when Jimmy told him to take a break until he's ready, and that the band is nothing without Robert.

Zeppelin returns in 1979, though the light has dimmed. Jimmy and Bonham lose themselves further. If you take a look, In Through The Out Door is largely about Robert's feelings once more. When recording and writing, it's often said that the band had split in two: Sober (Plant and JPJ) and not sober (Page, Bonham) . While Plant and Jones wrote and composed, the other two would fail to show up on time, sometimes even at all. As previously mentioned, All My Love and I'm Gonna Crawl are tributes to Karac. In The Evening is about the struggles and stress faced even through his stardom and wealth.

Carouselambra tells the story of Zeppelin's fall. From kings, gods, to rust. In particular, it details the loneliness and betrayal felt by Plant after his band mates failed to be there for him.

"Where was your word, where did you go?

Where was your helping, where was your bow?

Dull is the armour, cold is the day

Hard was the journey, dark was the way, way

I heard the word, I couldn't stay, oh

I couldn't stand it another day, another day"

In particular, "Where was your word, where did you go?" struck with me.

The rest of the album is filled with lighter, story centered, and explorational songs. Plant knew that while Zeppelin was there, it was nearing its end. Come Knebworth, a great show, but Robert is different, you see it in his eyes. The naivety, the innocence, the belief that he could have it all, has faded.

And nobody else is the same at knebworth, either.

Fast forward a year and John Bonham dies, god rest his soul. Led Zeppelin breaks up. Robert loses his best friend and son in the span of 3 years.

Icarus burns. The zeppelin crashes.

Robert distances himself from the rock scene, exchanging most of his heavy vocals to explore different genres of music. He shies away from Zeppelin, but the public is calling for more. An encore. A reunion. Each one goes wrong, between being too stoned and ill timed, the improper rehearsals, the matter not being taken seriously.

Page and Plant starts and Robert finds himself back in his old shoes, polished and new. He enjoyed it this time around, digging up unreleased material and playing it "Unledded."

The masses want more. The golden god, playing the same old tune and having to visit the same old wounds of life. They want the sun to shine like it had been touched again, but the sun shined differently back then. The public dooms him to the same old song he's been fighting to escape, but the song doesn't remain the same, the song has changed.

He's still beautiful. Still Robert Plant. But he's not the same as he was, he's not the bright, young boy performing Stairway to the crowd for the first time, or 50 playing as Page and Plant. He's past that.

December 10th, 2007, O2 Arena, London. He says good evening. One last show. Jason Bonham on drums and backing vocals. John Paul Jones, keyboard and bass guitar. Jimmy Page, electric guitar. And himself, Robert Plant. A legendary show, honored to Ahmet Ertegun.

After, Jones and Jimmy want to continue with a reunion. Robert doesn't, won't. He has a solo career. He's fought to free himself from the golden boy he was. This isn't him anymore. These aren't his songs.

He grows disconnected from his songs of Zeppelin, a lifetime ago. He grows to hate stairway, until it's 2012 at the Kennedy Honors Center. Heart performs Stairway to Heaven with a choir and Jason Bonham. Robert tears up, seeing his best friends son out there. In that moment, he grows to appreciate Stairway: Only if it's sung by a younger voice, though.

The media wants more. The people want more. They will always want more, it's never enough, but he can't sing a song that's lost its meaning to him.

Robert Plant is a man of many times. The golden god we know of now is eternally different from who he was. I will always love him through all walks of life, each and every stage.

[wedriftlikelonelyplanets]

WIP Wednesdayyyyyy

(Last lines game, really!)

Another week, another tag game! Please share your last sentence; or, if you don’t have one, share a plot bunny or idea! (OR sketch for your artwork!)

Was tagged by @thelettersfromnoone THANK YOU I APPRECIATE IT SO MUCH WHEN YOU TAG ME IN THIS STUFF BECAUSE I GET TO GO STUPID AND FERAL

Get A Grip Before My Dog is Loose (Lestappen, Vampire!Max AU)

And then there’s a smile curling across Max’s face, predatory and sharp, as he tosses his phone to the side, direct attention turned on Charles. It’s too much. Too much and not enough all at the same time. “You want it?” He asks, his voice low, head tilted. “You want me to chase you? Pin you down? Make you take it?” doesn’t hold back the chuckle escapes as Charles flushes darker, and nods the affirmative. 

Small Talk, Big Love (Charlos, D/s (BDSM) divorce fic) (this is still a working title) Tag Here

Somewhere between Vegas last year, and Australia this year, they lose themselves. Somewhere in that long stretch of time, everything changes. Carlos a little harsher, Charles a little sharper, and Carlos doesn’t know if it’s intentional, or if Charles just can’t help himself. Too competitive, too driven, too willing to push to win that he’ll push everything else away. 

I'm so Lonely and You're the Only One That Knows Me (Landoscar, the negotiation fic)

Lando swats his hand away, gently, picks up the mug himself, tests the heat of the ceramic against his palm before bringing the cup cautiously to Oscar’s lips. It’s a repeat of the action from last night, Lando’s fingers coming up to cup the back of his neck, tilt his head back, tilts the mug, and Oscar takes a small sip, and then another, of the coffee. Warm slide of it settling somewhere in his chest 

Leaving Me Just When I Thought You Were Mine (Charlos, A/B/O with non-traditional dynamics)

Sometimes, he doesn’t know when it became more than just him panting after Charles like a bitch in heat, and instead, him feeling something stronger, stronger, deeper, like some loyalty that’s been instilled into him, like Charles collared him and called him his own. 

ANNND last but not least because I need you all to get snippets of it, I love this one so much and it's kinda been on the backburner for my Landoscar series and also the Charlos Divorce Fic (and NOW the vampire max fic)

The Lestappen Warped Tour AU (Lestappen, Warped Tour 2005)

Charles goes on stage wearing one of Max’s shirts, baggy on him and smelling like Max, and paired with his too-tight skinny jeans, Max wants to devour him. Pulls him off stage the instant Lake Despair's set is done, and they navigate their way through a crush of people. In the first quiet corner they find alone, Max licks at the sweat trickling down his neck, before sucking a mark into his collarbone so that everyone can see that Charles is his.

I don't have a world of people to tag so I'll tag the few followers I have that are writers. No pressure for anyone, I love you all the same. @foggieststars @tommybuckleys ...god i need more friends who are writing WIPs because i feel weird tagging people that i'm not moots with

ANYHOW love u all have a good time

[xocasper]

Heaven Ain’t Close in a Place Like This

Pairing: Mikey Way x Reader x Gerard Way Summary: August was barely beginning when you found yourself in Mikey Way’s bunk, but time on tour flies by fast. Between performances and post-show hookups, it feels like you’re with his band more than your own. Thankfully, his brother doesn’t seem to mind. Warnings: NSFW content, fanfic logic Word Count: 6639 A/N: They live! Back from the dead and managed to cough this up. I’ve been making jokes about it since October, opened up the original outline at a Thursday concert, scrapped it half a dozen times, and then pulled this directly out of my ass. I hope you enjoy it!

As insane as being invited onto the Projekt Revolution was, the tour itself was prone to even wilder happenings. With each summer tour your band had played, something crazy had taken place. Between Warped Tour hookups and racy, drunken performances on Taste of Chaos, the next few months were destined to be memorable. In fact, you had already set the tone by the second week, after waking up hungover and pantless with a lanky bassist by your side. One that you were waiting for now, leaning against the side of your bus while the metal scorched your skin.

Under normal circumstances, there was no way you’d be out in this heat, but your bandmate had passed you some cash for a moment of peace. It meant the bus would smell like sex for the night, but twenty bucks was twenty bucks. You could already hear the way Mikey would whine when you told him, knowing he’d complain about having to walk back across the parking lot.

He was already appearing in the distance, clad in a baseball cap and band tee, shooting you a lopsided grin as you waved him over. Before you could react, he came barreling towards you, skidding to a stop and barely avoiding a head-on collision. Hardly sticking the landing, he hooked his arm around your shoulder and leaned against the bus to catch his breath.

“Mikey Way,” you beamed, leaning into his touch. “I’ve got a bit of bad news.”

His head tipped back as he panted, “How bad?”

“Like, ‘Max paid me to leave and let him bang his girlfriend’ bad. I hope your bus is empty.”

If you weren’t so amused, he would’ve been a little annoyed. But then again, he was kinda crazy about you, so he let it slide. Instead, he rolled his eyes, a smile still tugging at his lips as he gave a melodramatic groan. “God, you’re the worst.”

You turned to face him, catching his eyes as you hovered a few inches from him. “That’s not what you were saying the other night.”

He could feel his cheeks heat up, flustered by your brazen remark. Truthfully, you had hooked up a couple more times since the first night, and the sex was significantly better without tequila. The second time was more to prove a point, insisting that he could “blow your mind” while sober. It’s safe to say he convinced you, as you found yourself in his bed every few days.

“Good pussy is good pussy,” he shrugged, his hand dropping to hold yours.

You gave a soft laugh and squeezed his hand, beginning the walk back to his bus. “Are the guys around?”

“Just Gerard. Frank’s off with Lazarra, and I think Ray went to grab lunch.”

Although you were a little disappointed that you couldn’t be alone with him, having Gerard around wasn’t the end of the world. You were friends with him too–not in the same way, but he made good company. Mikey knew what you were getting at, sensing your slight dismay. Holding back an arrogant grin, he nudged your shoulder.

“Why? Were you planning to woo me into bed?” he asked in amusement. “Because I don’t think Gerard would care.”

The question made you laugh, warm and genuine, and you leaned a little closer as he traced shapes onto your hand. You didn’t bother to question his comment about Gerard, figuring that he was just trying to get a rise out of you.

“I was not,” you insisted. “Just curious, that’s all.”

He gave a skeptical mhm, but the banter was quickly dropped as the bus came into view. It was no more than fifteen yards from you, but you still smiled at him mischievously. He turned to face you, catching your expression and raising his eyebrows with another curious hum.

“Race ya,” you said, hardly giving him a chance to register the proposition before you were bolting towards the bus.

You could hear the way his sneakers pounded on the concrete, spewing curses as he hightailed it behind you. His lack of preparation led to an unfortunate downfall, causing him to lose by a few seconds—ones that you spent doubled over in laughter as you pressed yourself against the side of the vehicle. The minute he reached you, he hooked his arms around your waist, tugging you from the wall of the bus while you gasped for breath.

“You fuckin’ cheater,” he wheezed, pulling you into his chest with a laugh.

Your arms looped around his neck, grinning wildly as he rested his forehead against yours. “Eat my dust, Mikey Way.”

His breathing shook, lips turned up as a lousy pickup line rolled off his tongue. “Sure you don’t want me to eat something else instead?”

“You’re so lame,” you cackled, pushing him away.

Mikey reluctantly let you go, watching as you opened the door and collapsed on the couch. He followed suit, sighing in relief as a blast of cool air hit his skin. The two of you were quiet for a moment, the only sounds being heaving chests and tabletop fans. Still, he slipped his arm around your waist again, toying with the hem of your shirt.

“That wasn’t a no,” he teased, earning himself a quick swat.

As tempting as the offer was, his brother was on the other end of the bus, and you knew how thin those doors were. “What about Gerard?”

“I really don’t think he’d mind.”

Okay, that was the second time Mikey had said that. If he was trying to drop hints, this was a really poor way to go about it. You were growing increasingly suspicious, and your only conclusion seemed far too unrealistic. Landing one Way brother was shocking enough, but two? Mikey had to be kidding.

You turned your head to look at him, searching for any sign that he was pulling your leg. He looked completely serious though, eyebrows raised in anticipation. Finally, you managed to reply.

“Do you know something I don’t?”

He grinned, finally dropping the subject as he reached for the remote.

“Yup.”

—

Gerard wasn’t a big partier.

He used to be, way back in the day, following shitty friends into random houses with the promise of weed and cheap booze. Things were different now, though–he had a few close buddies, and they all took his sobriety seriously. Peer pressure and substance were the only motivators for him back then, and without either of them, he had no reason to show up. Contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t exactly a social butterfly, so parties were typically out of the picture.

But here he was, donning a clean shirt and his too-tight jeans, leaning over a nightclub mezzanine while you danced below him. You were pressed close to Mikey, hands resting on his chest as laughter spilled from your lips. Gerard could only imagine what his brother was saying, noting how you buried your head into Mikey’s chest as he beamed with pride. He could feel a jealous jolt in his stomach, longing for the treatment you gave Mikey, even if it was just for a night.

As quiet as Mikey was, he didn’t have much of a filter. Sometimes, he would return to the bus with a familiar glow, just waiting for Gerard to ask where he’d gone after the show. His words would echo when the two of you were alone, every comment and filthy anecdote flooding his head. Everything he shouldn’t know, everything he shouldn’t feel. The tension was suffocating when it settled between you two, his chest caving in as he tried to focus on anything other than immoral desire.

God, you’d stare at him shamelessly, eyes drifting lower until he felt flustered and exposed. It didn’t even matter if his brother was there, sitting inches away as low-budget horror movies flashed on the TV. You would curl up next to Mikey and rest your head against his shoulder, watching the pale television light shine on Gerard. He’d notice sometimes, feeling the blush in his cheeks as you shot him a smug smile, seeming like you wanted him to catch you. Wanted him to know how you ached for him, for his lips on yours, skin to skin as he touched you the way Mikey did. 

It wasn’t hard for him to see it, fantasies plaguing his mind at night, the sight of you on your knees and begging him to–

“You’re staring again.”

The sudden interruption made Gerard flinch, recoiling and snapping back to reality. Whipping his head around, he spotted Frank, who took a few steps forward to rest beside him. He flushed and dropped his head against his forearms, preparing himself for another lecture.

“Can you blame me?” he mumbled, reluctantly lifting his head to gesture towards you. “Look at them. Look at the way he’s holding them.”

Frank cast a look towards the two of you, Mikey’s hands drifting dangerously low and your arms around his neck. He didn’t need to read lips to hear your laughter and the free-flowing banter, already familiar with your behavior towards each other. He knew how his poker-faced friend never seemed to stop smiling around you, and he could hear the way you whispered to each other at night as if Mikey’s deadpan jokes were the funniest thing in the world. And now here was Gerard, aching for your touch and ignoring Frank’s endless warnings.

He shook his head with a disappointed sigh. “I don’t know, man. They’ve been screwing your brother all tour.”

“Yeah, but Mikey said they’re not exclusive,” Gerard defended.

Frank’s eyes nearly popped out, barely evading whiplash as he turned to face Gerard. “You told Mikey?”

For as smart as his friend was, he seemed to lack a great deal of common sense. You don’t tell people that you want to sleep with their partners–or fuck buddies, or whatever the hell you were. Especially not Mikey, who was one of the worst secret keepers in the world.

Gerard groaned, “He knew the minute I asked. Maybe before then, too. You know how observant he is.”

“You can’t just tell people–” Frank started, though he cut himself off with another sigh when he saw Gerard’s pathetic expression. “It’s just… It’s not worth the headache, alright?”

“From the way Mikey describes them, I think you might be wrong.”

There was really no fighting this, was there?

He knew Gerard hadn’t gotten laid in a couple months. Not only had he broken up with his girlfriend, but he hadn’t slept with anyone on tour, either. Gerard was horny and desperate and had heard way too many stories from Mikey, landing him in this pitiful situation.

“There’s no one else you can sleep with?” Frank asked.

Surprisingly self-assured, Gerard shook his head. “Nope.”

Hopeless, Frank glanced back to the scene below him. Mikey was laughing at something you’d said before you shooed him off, watching him fondly as he darted out of the room. Great. He didn’t have to turn his head to know Gerard was staring at him, waiting for permission to make a move. Sighing, Frank took a long sip of his drink, counting his blessings and thanking God he was married.

“Go get ‘em, tiger.”

An amused smile crept up on Gerard’s face, jostling his friend before heading down the stairs. His heart was pounding, weaving through strangers as he searched for you in the crowd. Insecurity and anxiety swarmed his head, and he began to consider quitting before it was too late. He wanted to prove Frank wrong though–he wanted you. Besides, he couldn’t run now, watching you turn to face him from a few feet away.

“Gerard!” you smiled, stepping closer to hear him over the music.

He couldn’t fight a grin, greeting you with the same energy. “Where’d Mikey run off to?”

“He said he was going to the bathroom, but you know he’ll get distracted on his way out.”

Knowing his brother, he had a good fifteen minutes before his return. This was his opportunity, trying to calm his nerves as you looked at him with hopeful eyes.

“Don’t worry about him,” he said sweetly. “I can keep you company.”

Small talk flowed easily as the minutes ticked by, your enthusiasm contagious as Gerard blushed and laughed softly throughout your tour stories. The room had steadily gotten louder, booming speakers and obnoxious chatter drowning out your conversation until you were less than a foot away. He only realized it after you had gone quiet, staring at him with wide eyes.

His breathing stalled, and he swallowed hard as his eyes flitted from yours to the people around him. You were giving him that look again–the one that pleaded for him to touch you, an open invitation to make a move. Even if he wanted to, he was frozen in place, lips parting to speak but nothing came out.

You leaned a bit closer, trying not to smile as you spoke. “You know, Mikey told me something interesting last week.”

Fuck. Gerard could already feel himself burning with embarrassment, already fearing your next sentence. He knew exactly where this was going, and for the first time ever, he wanted to throttle his little brother. Fumbling for words, he managed to mumble, “He did?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Gerard, why’d you come to the club with us?”

As if it would do him any favors, he pinned it on his friends. “Everyone else was coming.”

You were obviously skeptical, resting your palms on his chest, feeling his heart race through his t-shirt. He felt lightheaded as you touched him, watching your hands glide across his shoulders and arms snake around his neck.

“No other reason?”

His tongue darted out briefly, wetting his lips as he stared at yours, cursing his nerves and shaky hands. The room was so fucking tense, and as he let out a breath, he spoke the words you’d been waiting to hear.

“I wanted to see you.”

Before he could overthink his confession, you had pressed your lips to his in a fleeting kiss. Gerard blinked back at you when you pulled away, his hands still hanging awkwardly by his sides. His expression bordered on unreadable, his features painted with a mix of shock and nervousness. You considered stepping back, worrying that you’d come on too strong, but his lips were back on yours before you could apologize.

Despite being unsure at first, he eased up quickly, letting his hands gravitate towards your hips. The room seemed to pause as he touched you, fingers hooking around your belt loops to pull you closer. It was gentle but sudden, a soft gasp parting your lips. Gerard stifled a smile, satisfied as his tongue swept across them, reveling in your desperation. With your hand pressed to the nape of his neck, you brought him closer, fingers catching in his hair. On a whim, you gave a brief tug, your stomach doing somersaults at his reaction.

The moan that ripped from his throat was nothing short of wanton, a cross between pleasure and need as you broke apart. His head tipped back for a second, eyes screwed shut and his neck exposed. You took it as an opportunity, scraping your teeth against his skin and soothing it with your tongue.

“You know,” you breathed, nipping below his ear. “Mikey’s into that, too. Likes me to pull his hair when we fuck, mark him up real pretty.”

Gerard didn’t need to know that, but he couldn’t help but picture being in his brother’s place. His name in your mouth, your hands across his back, leaving little crescents for him to find the next morning. He swallowed hard, nearly groaning as he spoke. “God, you can’t say that.”

You pushed his head back down, fingers still threaded through his hair. Your breath fanned across his lips, so close to his, although you had no intentions of kissing him yet.

“That I’ve slept with Mikey?” you asked, as if you knew it turned him on. “Why?”

“Because he’s my brother.”

He said it sheepishly, not offended or uncomfortable, simply using it as a pointless defense. Truthfully, he didn’t care what Mikey got up to—he probably knew most of it, anyway. Hearing you say it sent him reeling though, flustered by your shamelessness.

“Because you want me too, don’t you?” you teased, giving him a featherlight kiss.

Of course he did. You saw right through him, your lips turning up in a faint smile when you caught him. After a moment, he gave in. “Mhm, how’d you guess?”

Gerard felt like he was on fire, slotting his lips against yours again, ignoring the way he burned with passion and embarrassment. You could almost feel the anxiety radiating off of him, hands shifting to cradle his face as your tongue glided against his. He still tasted like his soda from the bar, lips artificially sweet with the faintest flavor of cola. You didn’t mind, nipping at them gently, drawing a whiny moan from him.

To his surprise—and humiliation—you weren’t the only one to hear it. A light hand pressed against your lower back, causing you to stir. Gerard noticed, his lashes fluttering open when you pulled away. Mikey stood behind you, and Gerard retracted his hands from your hips immediately, eyes swimming with guilt.

Mikey seemed unfazed, instead flashing his brother a smug grin. “I told you they were good with their mouth.”

Gerard couldn’t help but laugh, flushing as he tried to think of a response. This whole situation was so bizarre, and his train of thought completely derailed when you reached for his hand. His eyes flicked towards Mikey, who simply nodded towards you in permission.

One of his palms rested on your cheek, holding you close as he kissed you with a newfound fervor. Now, he wanted to show off, knowing that you had an audience. Mikey positioned himself behind you, his strong arms around your waist while his teeth grazed the crook of your neck.

Smoothly, his fingers drifted to your jaw, pulling you away from Gerard to press his lips to yours instead. He kissed you so sensually, slow and deep while his brother watched intently from a foot away. It made you dizzy, stomach fluttering at the sweep of his tongue, eliciting a moan that had Gerard stiffening in his jeans. It was all weirdly hot, and you seriously needed to go somewhere more private.

Mikey seemed to read your mind, drawing back and locking eyes with Gerard. You could’ve sworn they had telepathy, leaving you confused and completely out of the loop during their silent exchange.

“We’re at the hotel tonight,” Gerard said, and Mikey gave you a delicate push toward him.

He looked at you with a burning desire, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he gave you a once-over. Gently, his fingers slipped beneath your chin, his thumb stroking your cheek. “Think you can handle both of us?”

—

The moment the door shut, you were back in Mikey’s arms, having rushed down the hotel hall with his arm around your waist. Gerard’s hand was still in yours, giving you a light squeeze before letting go, turning to lock the door while Mikey kissed you in the middle of the room. His hands were already drifting beneath your shirt, his touch rising higher as his thumbs stroked your skin.

“No bra?” he asked, beaming as you tugged at the hem of his tee.

You rolled your eyes jokingly, giving an out-of-breath answer. “It’s August.”

He laughed lightly, part of him wishing that it could always be August. Sliding your hands further up his chest, you let him steal a few more kisses before mumbling softly.

“Off.”

Compliant, he pulled away, letting his brother take over while he stripped off his shirt. Gerard pressed himself against your back and rucked up your top as well, hardly waiting for it to hit the ground before his lips were ghosting your neck. Your head fell back against his shoulder, moaning lightly as he gave you a playful bite.

“You know how long I’ve waited for this?” he asked. “Mikey, tell them.”

Mikey stepped forward again, kissing you briefly before answering. “Weeks, baby. I’d come back after shows, and he’d ask where I’d been,” he said, pausing as his lips brushed against yours. “He wanted me to tell him how pretty you sound when you’re begging for it.”

The sweet sound that left your mouth was swiftly muffled by Mikey, kissing you heatedly while his fingers traced your waistband. If that weren’t enough, Gerard’s hands were climbing higher, tracing your curves with a contrasting tenderness. Familiar wetness was growing between your thighs, and it seemed to increase tenfold when he sucked a soft bruise into your skin. As if he could sense it, he mouthed below your ear, pricking your neck with his teeth.

“Gonna let us take care of you?” he questioned breathily, rolling your nipples beneath his thumbs.

You mewled softly and incidentally ground against his hard-on, squirming further as he let out a groan. His eyes drew shut, planting a kiss at the top of your jaw while Mikey popped the button on your jeans, reluctantly pulling back to let you undress. You almost whined at his absence, lashes fluttering when Mikey pulled away with a final tug to your lower lip, mimicking Gerard’s behavior. Two more pairs of jeans joined yours on the floor, and Gerard gave you an eager spank as you climbed onto the mattress.

“Cute panties,” he teased, studying your form as you propped yourself up on your elbows. “Nice of you to dress for the occasion.”

Mikey huffed a laugh, and you glanced down to see Gerard between your legs. Sure enough, you were donning black lace, and your stomach fluttered at the sight. They barely covered you, mostly mesh with intricate designs stitched on, and Gerard was more than happy about it.

Briefly, your gaze met his, catching the predatory glint in his eyes. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, eyes half-lidded as you stared at him. “Picked ‘em out just for you,” you said, shifting closer to him.

He grinned, bending your knees and smoothing his hands over your thighs. “You’re just the sweetest little thing, aren’t you?”

You hummed, beaming as your head dropped back against the pillows. “That’s what they tell me.”

Amused, Mikey settled beside you, resuming his brother’s work from earlier as his fingers dragged along your chest. You ran a hand through his hair, grip tightening with a shaky gasp as Gerard’s tongue glided up your clothed slit. It was only to rile you up, proven as his lips trailed towards your thighs instead. His hands were warm against you, running smoothly across your legs in mild wonder. Part of him was still shocked that this was real—that you were truly in his hotel room, eyes screwed shut as he scattered kisses across your skin. Every move he made had you buzzing, desperate for contact as his mouth inched closer to your cunt.

Eager, you made a gentle shift towards him, arching slightly as Mikey’s tongue flicked against you. Gerard spared you a sly glance, fingers tugging at your waistband before he spoke. “Someone’s excited.”

You began to retort, but the words spun into a soft gasp when Mikey tweaked one of your nipples. His timing was absolutely intentional, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, relishing in the warmth of his tongue as it swirled against you. With excessive effort, you managed to collect yourself, taking a weak breath and shooting back, “Someone’s a tease.”

“Maybe,” Gerard agreed, dropping your panties onto the pile of discarded clothes. “But I’ll make it up to you.”

You almost missed his promise, already losing your comprehension skills as his brother redirected your attention. From your first night with Mikey, you knew he was good with his mouth, and he certainly knew what he was doing now. He already knew what made you tick, and he used Gerard to his advantage. It seemed that any time you gave the older one attention, Mikey’s mouth was back on you, more out of amusement than envy. If you thought for even a moment that you could lift your head and watch Gerard, he’d catch your nipple between his teeth, just light enough for your eyes to fall shut, giving his hair a reflexive tug.

Cursing, you let your hand slide down to his cheek, pulling him from your chest for a moment. They were in mental cahoots, you swore to God, barely beginning to kiss Mikey before Gerard was flattening his tongue against you. Mikey hardly muffled it, fingers still at work while you moaned against his lips. Slowly, your free hand drifted down to Gerard, the other pressed against Mikey’s chest. Gerard gave a sweet hum as you ran your fingers through his hair, sucking a kiss to your clit in return.

A moan slipped past your lips, arching towards him while Mikey moved to kiss along your jaw. You could feel him smiling against your skin, nipping before mumbling praise in your ear. “You’re being so good for us, you know that?”

You nodded, pressing your head harder into the pillows as they double-teamed, a slew of erotic noises spilling into the air. Gerard pulled you closer, reveling in your touch as your hand smoothed through his hair. Much to your objection, he pulled away, fingers passing his lips before spreading you open. Briefly, you managed to lock eyes with him, watching as he gave a slow lick. He moaned against you, just loud enough to get a reaction.

“Taste so fuckin’ pretty, babe,” he praised, circling your clit with his thumb.

Mikey pressed his hand against your abdomen, shooting Gerard a smug look. “Told you so.”

With Mikey holding you down, you had nowhere left to go, beginning to writhe against the sheets in both pleasure and impatience. Gerard was taking his time, truly savoring everything you had to offer, staring up at you with his pretty hazel eyes as if he wouldn’t be the death of you. Without Mikey’s kisses or lips against your skin, you really zoned in on Gerard—the way his hands hugged your thighs, his tongue like velvet as lapped up your arousal. You couldn’t seem to get enough, desperately pulling his hair in a fruitless search for friction.

He groaned at the sensation, soft but audible as you tried to grind against him, turning his slow motions into sloppy ones; not that he could complain really, having to restrain himself from rutting against the mattress when you were moaning like that. Still, you craved more, and it didn’t take Mikey long to figure out what you wanted. He shot you a look, sly and plotting as his hand drifted from your stomach to your thigh, swiftly replacing his brother’s. Gerard eyed him curiously, humming in question before pulling back, the vibration sending you reeling. You caught a quick glimpse of him, lips and chin slick with arousal, and the ache between your legs only grew stronger.

Gerard couldn’t have been idle for more than a few seconds, but it felt like a fucking eternity as you squirmed in place. Mikey’s grip tightened in warning, although his eyes stayed trained on his brother as he spoke.

“Use your hands.”

A smile flashed across Gerard’s face, watching your teeth dig into your lower lip at the suggestion. He went easy at first, running his fingers across your folds and gently rubbing your clit. The teasing was back, and he showed no mercy this time, lust and pride flooding his veins when you gave an impatient whine.

“Don’t worry, I’m not stopping,” he assured you, voice sweet as he popped his fingers back into his mouth.

The two of them noticed everything—your erratic breathing, the delicate shift of your hips, and the desperate glint in your eyes as you waited for Gerard to move. They glanced at each other and Mikey nodded in your direction, gaze falling between your thighs, swallowing thickly as he watched Gerard’s fingers.

You were practically bursting with gratitude as you took the first one, quickly retracting your hands from the pair to clutch the sheets. Gerard hadn’t realized you needed it that bad, almost laughing at how sweet and pathetic it was. The urge to taunt you was strong, curling his finger at a steady pace and studying your expression.

“Aw,” he mocked, biting his lip as you clenched around him. “You just want to be filled up, don’t you?”

Nodding, you squeezed your eyes shut, forcing a response despite being nearly incapable of speaking. “Yeah,” you breathed, interrupted with a shaky gasp. “Just want you inside me.”

Gerard could’ve come at that, cursing softly before speaking up. “I know, babe. Mikey and I are gonna take care of you first, and then I’ll fuck you. How’s that sound?”

Even if the words were vulgar, they sounded so chaste coming from him. He spoke gently, making you feel warm all over again, arousal stirring inside of you. His mouth was back on you soon enough, sucking on your clit and adding another finger, working for every sound you made. Warmth quickly spun into heat, rising to your cheeks and spreading across your heaving chest, short breaths escaping your lips in bursts. You were close, muscles going taut while Gerard's fingers crooked quicker, moaning as his tongue flicked at a similar pace.

Mikey was mesmerized, his stare flitting between your contorted features and the sheer determination in his brother’s eyes. Each time Gerard moved, Mikey could see his fingers, buried inside of you as you all but screamed his name. He could feel himself blushing, painfully hard as he watched you take it so well, tracing your arched figure.

“You like Gerard’s mouth, don’t you?” he asked rhetorically, rubbing circles on your thigh. Another whine rolled off your tongue, followed by a frantic nod. “Tell him how much you love it.”

Mikey was going to Hell. Absolutely. Damn him and his stupid, arrogant grin, prompting you to speak when he knew you could barely string words together. Gerard would’ve been laughing if he weren’t using his mouth, laser-focused on making you come. Still, his lips turned up, noticeable for a split second before getting back to work. If your fingers hadn't been digging into the comforter, you might’ve knocked Mikey off the bed, but you felt like you’d sink into the floorboards without something to ground you. Even though you were tempted to ignore him, he squeezed your thigh expectantly, resulting in a very pathetic attempt to speak.

“Fuck, Gerard,” you slurred, mouth falling open as he hummed curiously. “You’re so fucking good, please don’t stop, please.”

The praise made him shiver, and he made a mental note to thank Mikey for prompting you later. You were a wreck in the best way possible, vocal and blissed out, pleading with them until the pressure ceased. Gerard didn’t pull away at first, only slowing down while Mikey returned to your side, purring praise and stroking your cheek. You could barely understand what he was saying, panting and staring up at him starry-eyed. He cracked a smile, warm and genuine when you took his hand in yours, kissing his palm and intertwining your fingers.

Gerard shifted up the bed, wiping his mouth on his shirt and tugging it off before settling on his knees. His lips met yours, kissing you with his typical tenderness while you cupped his cheek softly. He got a good look at you after pulling away, really taking in the sight before him.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, smoothing his hand over your stomach.

His touch made you feel fuzzy, despite how your mind was beginning to sharpen. Mikey held your hand a little tighter, tilting your chin to kiss you, becoming all too aware of his erection. Honestly, he felt like his dick was going to fall off if it went ignored any longer.

Gerard was in a similar boat, his eyes softening when you pulled away from Mikey and sat up straight. You looked at him expectantly, receiving a half smile and another fleeting kiss, Gerard resting his forehead against yours after.

“Can I fuck you, pretty baby?” he asked, turning obscenities into something holy with his honeyed tone. “You wanna let Mikey use your mouth?”

How his curses sounded saccharine was beyond you, but it still had your heart racing, squeezing Mikey’s hand with a nod. Mikey pressed a kiss to your head, nearly sighing in relief as he tugged off his boxers and kneeled beside you. Delicately, your fingers danced along Gerard’s waistband, thumbs stroking his hips while he held the back of your head. “Go ahead,” he said, swallowing hard as you stripped him.

He was heavy in your hand, a light shiver wracking through him when you took him in your fist. ”Jesus,” you murmured, the pair almost laughing as you stared at Gerard in awe.

You could feel yourself growing hot, breath catching in your throat before your tongue darted out. Mikey’s hand was still in yours, gently guiding it towards his cock, his eyes fluttering shut as you stroked him. Staring up at Gerard, you leaned forward and pressed your tongue against him, studying his reaction and taking him into your mouth. It didn’t last long, but it was enough time for you to learn how sensitive he was. Wetness grew between your thighs when he moaned, watching his head loll back as you took him deeper.

His eyes fluttered open, glancing from his brother’s concentrated expression to your thighs rubbing together. As good as your mouth felt, he wanted to be in you, and you seemed to want it too.

“Hey, c’mere,” he spoke softly, reluctantly pulling you off.

Saliva spread itself across your lips, and a whine crept up your throat at the sudden emptiness. It took all of his willpower not to give in, but he knew it would be worth it for everyone. After a bit of awkward shuffling, he positioned you in the middle of the mattress, facing Mikey at the headboard while Gerard kneeled behind you. The two of them made eye contact for a moment, holding back a laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Their attention drew back to you though, Gerard pushing you onto all fours and giving himself quite the view.

Slowly, he eased in, hands smoothing over your ass while you gasped around Mikey. Gerard took a shaky breath, moaning at the feeling of wet heat. Christ, you were tight, squeezing his cock as he sunk inside, already trying to rock back against him.

“Shit, Mikes,” Gerard sighed, listening to you mewl and gag around Mikey. “When was the last time you fucked them?”

Mikey rolled his eyes, quick to fire back. “Last night in your bunk.”

Gerard snickered, slowly thrusting in again. Every time he moved, it rocked you against Mikey, whose hand cradled the back of your head and pushed you down further. Maybe it was a little slutty, but being used by the brothers had arousal coursing through you, desperate as ever for a rough fuck. Mikey already knew, giving a few thrusts into your mouth while Gerard set a pace, moaning as your eyes watered.

“Fuck ‘em harder,” he told Gerard, who was still trying to go easy. “They can take it, I promise.”

“Is that what you want?” Gerard asked, earning a soft mhm in response.

God, he had never been this hard in his life. You were still trying to grind against him, searching for anything to soothe the ache, and Gerard was in heaven. He pulled out almost completely and roughly snapped his hips against yours, biting his lip hard enough to bleed when a loud cry tore from your throat. Mikey looked so pleased with himself, panting as sweat clung to his hairline, his hips bucking until your nose brushed against his abdomen.

“That’s it, baby, take it all,” he cooed, caressing your cheek before pulling his hips back.

You were a mess, pulling off to breathe while Gerard pounded into you with much more ferocity. Mikey held his cock in his hand, jerking it slowly before sliding past your lips again, smearing them with saliva and precum. It was all fucking filthy, from his low moans to the way he pushed your head down, forcing you to be humiliatingly sloppy, making such a mess on his cock. Not to mention how his brother was filling you up, reveling in your warmth, and memorizing how it felt to be buried inside of you.

Mikey always got loud before coming; even if he tried to stifle his moans, you never failed to notice them. His chest rose and fell at a rapid rate, mouth falling open as you sped up, only to groan weakly when you pulled away. Instead, you let him fuck your fist, sucking a bruise below his hip.

“Fuck, Mikey,” you whined, scraping your teeth against his thigh just to hear him moan. “Gonna come for me?”

He gave a soft hum, cock twitching as you took him back in your mouth, pumping your fist a few more times before he came down your throat. Gerard couldn’t tear his eyes away, catching the look of bliss on Mikey’s face, slack-jawed and pupils blown while you stuck your tongue out with pride. Your hand kept moving even after Mikey had come, stroking him until he slumped against the headboard, admiring you with contrasting chastity.

The same pressure from earlier had begun to build, leaving you sensitive and desperate as Gerard’s merciless rhythm continued. It was almost embarrassing how needy you sounded, dropping your head against the mattress while he pulled your hips against his, moaning and panting behind you. Every whimper and cry went straight to his cock, and Gerard was growing closer by the second. He could feel it, his head spinning and muscles beginning to stiffen, bottoming out while you clenched around him.

“You’re doing so well,” he said, his voice far softer than the snap of his hips. “Can you come for me?”

His stomach fucking fluttered as you let out one of the most pornographic sounds he’d ever heard, moaning and pleading with him to keep going while he pounded you into the mattress. Your whole body tensed, gripping the sheets in one hand while Mikey held the other.

“I’m not gonna stop,” Gerard assured you. “I’ve got you.”

It didn’t take much more than his praise and consolation for you to succumb to your release, warmth rippling through you once more. Gerard gave a few more thrusts before pulling out, cock twitching in his hand as he finished himself off. Stuck in a blissful stupor, you could hardly comprehend their praise, more focused on coming to your senses. You felt heavy, watching Mikey pull his boxers back on while Gerard disappeared into the bathroom. Mikey petted your head gently and you blinked up at him bleary-eyed, letting out a light sigh as a warm washcloth brushed across your skin.

He pulled you into his lap once Gerard had finished cleaning up, burying his head into the crook of your neck. “You’re perfect,” he mumbled, peppering kisses on your shoulder.

You laughed quietly and leaned into his touch, watching Gerard redress and flick off the lights before climbing under the covers. You and Mikey joined him, sharing a few kisses and affectionate murmurs. Eventually, your breathing took on an even pattern, Mikey’s shifting came to a stop, and Gerard’s eyelids grew heavy. Before he could fall asleep though, Gerard took his phone from the nightstand, sending a quick text.

To: Frank worth it.

taglist: @lubbockshusband @newgirlinhell @blackberryblossom @whothefuckisfranklero @griffinfinity @heaveaux @aliceblxck @ce-ci @halloweenbitch2764 @saywhaaaa @ghostsinthesnowandsun @doc-martens-enthusiast @couldbegayer1234 @chronicallythicc @sy-nx @v3nuslvrr @artistheweap0nn @bringm0reknivez @garfieldenthusiast420 @cryeppy @tellmewegofromhere @cigarettesandalcohols @allthetroubleiveseen @deadendjustice @shutup-im-daydreaming @ilongfor-the-arts @lovessidney​

[xmads-omensx]

CHAPTER 1 - I SIT HERE AND SMILE DEAR

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 4,091

Content warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, violence f you squint (pushing and shoving in a malicious way), mentions of alcohol, Ronnie Radke, blood, descriptions of a small wound

Tag List: @concreteangel92 @lma1986 @dragonfly92 @thisis--mj @bloody-delusion-expert @girlagainstg0d

(Please message or comment if you would like to be added to the taglist, or if I forgot to add you <3)

WARPED TOUR 2011 BECCA

My knee bounced up and down as I sat on the leather sofa in the tour bus. We had never had a proper tour bus before. The closest thing we had was Theo’s Dad’s old van that kept breaking down. Nerves shot through my body as I tried to slow my heart-rate and regain my normal breathing.

Warped Tour was by far the biggest tour we had ever done. Sure, we were still supporting other bands, but we weren’t performing in a small, run-down dive bar. This was real. Bring Me The Horizon. Pierce The Veil. Sleeping With Sirens. All Time Low. Motionless In White. Our favourite bands were playing alongside us. We were one of them.

“Quit bouncing your leg Becca, I feel like I’m experiencing a fucking earthquake right now, jeez.” Johnny, our bass player, complained.

The rest of the guys erupted in laughter.

“Calm your tits, Johnny! Leave me alone.” I laughed in reply.

I had never been this nervous for a set before. We only had one album out, Arachnophobia, that had been doing reasonably well, but I was still so nervous. What if we get booed off stage? What if we fuck up the timings? What if I trip and fall flat on my fucking face? Worst-case scenarios flashed through my mind at lightning speed, corrupting whatever positive and confident thought that I still possessed.

“I need some air.” I said to the guys in a small voice.

“You good?” Kevin, our lead guitar player called out to me from his seat at the opposite end of the sofa.

“No. I just need a minute of fresh air.” I tried to reassure him, ultimately failing miserably.

“You sure?” Luke, our rhythm guitar player asked from his bunk.

“Yep. I won’t be long.” I mumbled, just loud enough for them to hear.

I walked around the festival site for a little while. The tents where bands were stood meeting fans and selling merch were absolutely packed. We had been selling merch and meting some fans as well, but nowhere near the scale of any of the bands situated near our tent.

This was our first ever festival. As I said, we were a small band. No one really knew who we were. That could also be said about some of the other bands on this tour as well to be fair. Warped Tour seemed like a brilliant opportunity for new fans to start listening to us when our manager, Nick, pitched it to us. But now it seemed like literal hell on earth. God, what if people left our set?

I tried to push those thoughts down, but nothing worked. As soon as I forced out one doubt, another just popped up in its place. It felt like my mind was the hydra from ancient Greek myth. Equally as venomous and persistent. It was going to be difficult to keep those negative feelings at bay for the rest of the tour. I had always struggled with not feeling good enough, and this tour was just amplifying those ideas. If nobody came to our set, everything would have been for nothing.

My phone started ringing in my pocket after about twenty minutes of my walk. It was Nick. I stared at the screen for a second. Breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth.

“Hey.” I said straight after answering the call.

“Hey yourself! Your set is in five minutes Bex. Get your ass to the stage right fucking now before I either lose my shit or lose my job. Whichever comes first.” Nick yelled down the line over the band who were finishing up their set before ours was due to start. I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Yep I’ll be there in a sec. I lost track of time, sorry.” I replied hurriedly.

“Great. Thanks. See you in a sec then.” Nick finished.

I started running back towards the stage when I bumped into something. It felt like a lamppost or something tall and thin like that. Except there weren’t any lampposts here. I looked up to see a tall, heavily tattooed man with long, black hair looking down at me with a slightly pained smile on his beautiful face.

I didn’t have time for this. I called out a quick sorry as I kept running towards the stage.

By the time I got there, I was doubled over and panting trying to catch my breath. “She’s here!” Luke shouted as I rounded the corner to the side-stage area. I was handed a microphone by Nick

“Good luck you guys. You’ve got this.” Nick encouraged with his arms round mine and Johnny’s shoulders. I took a breath in through my nose and out through my mouth as the rest of the guys walked onto the stage to begin the intro to the first song on our album, Make me Wanna Die, “Give ‘em hell kid.” Nick whispered in my ear with a pat on my back. I closed my eyes for a second then stepped out onto the stage.

The world around me seemed to slow down as I lifted my mic up to my mouth to start the song. My lyrics flew out of my mouth with a natural ease. This wasn’t as hard as I thought. A large crowd had formed at the stage. Not too bad for our first show of the tour. Some people in the crowd were singing along to the song, which filled me with pure joy and unrivalled confidence. I started to move and jump across the stage which excited the crowd even more. By the time we were halfway through our set, the crowd had grown significantly and even began singing even louder to the words that they knew.

I had never experienced such a buzz from the crowd. It felt electric. Looking at the rest of the band, it looked like they felt the same. Wide, beaming smiles were plastered on their faces. I was sure I wore a similar one on my own face. In fact, my face hurt because of the smile that covered my face.

Up until this point, the largest show that we had ever played was to only about eighty people. But now, we were performing to a crowd of about two hundred and fifty. It wasn’t a massive crowd by any means, but it was huge to us. All of our favourite bands started out like this, playing for much smaller crowds. It gave me hope that one day we could be as big as those bands. Someday.

“How is everyone doing?” I shouted into my microphone.

The crowd cheered in response. Holy shit.

“You guys having fun?” I asked.

The crowd cheered in response again. This felt so surreal.

“That’s good. We are too. You guys have been a great crowd.” I began. “This is our first Warped Tour, so thanks for making our first show sop fun because we are having an absolute blast up here.”

The crowd cheered and applauded.

“As you have probably gathered, I’m not exactly brilliant at this whole crowd work thing, but I’m not really used to crowds as fantastic as you guys.” I said with a huge grin on my face.

The crowed roared with cheers and applause.

“So anyway, this song is our last song of the set, and if you don’t mind we would like to play r for you.” I began. “I mean, it’s not like you really have much of a choice, we pre-decided the setlist before we came on stage.”

Laughter erupted around me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a tall, skinny guy with long dark hair cascading over his shoulders with tattoos on his arms, at least I thought they were tattoos. I couldn’t tell if it was black paint or tattoos. Either way, they looked good. He was standing backstage with four other guys who were all fitted in similar outfits. They must be the band following us. The man who caught my eye was the tallest of the group. He looked familiar but I couldn’t place it.

“This song was written by one of my favourite bands and are one of the bands who inspired me to pursue music. We hope you have had a great time here watching our set. We have been The Magpies and this is ‘Call Me’ by Blondie.

The intro started and an immense sense of joy coursed through my veins. Since I was a kid, Debbie Harry had been one of my heroes and I was so proud that we got to play one of her songs to a crowd of people.

And that was the moment that I knew we were going to make it.

 “Holy fucking shit guys, you crushed that.” Nick yelled out at us with an impossibly huge grin  plastered on his face. He clapped us each one-by-one as we came off of the stage. “The crowd fucking loved you guys.”

“That was kickass.” Luke exclaimed with a look that I can only describe as pure joy.

“Dude what the fuck just happened.” Johnny exclaimed.

“Fuck that was sick!” Kevin yelled directly into my ear as he swung his arm over my shoulder.

“Damn I’m pumped!” Theo laughed.

“How the fuck did we pull that off?” I laughed along with the rest of the guys.

“Because we are hot shit Bex. Hot fucking shit.” Kevin shouted back at us as he followed Nick away from the stage and towards the bus.

I paused for a moment and watched the guys, my family, walk ahead of me. I never thought anything like this could happen to us. Let alone at such a young age. I was only 18 when we did our first Warped Tour.

“Come on slow coach we want to go hang before the barbeque.” Nick called back at me. I laughed and followed after them

Every year, there was a barbeque on the first day of tour. It was mainly so that everyone in all the bands and crew could meet eachother. Kind of like an icebreaker night I guess. This was going to be the most nervous I had been so far, including the show. Because now, I had no choice but to meet all of those bands who were practically the reason that I made music. Plus, I was pretty confident in saying that meeting Oli Sykes in person might literally kill me.

The fact that we would be meeting our heroes in such a short space of time was seriously starting to make me freak out. How were we worthy of all of this?

We made it to the bus and all sat down to play some Xbox together before the barbeque. Luke had flung himself onto the black, leather L-shaped sofa opposite the door.

“I don’t give a fuck what the rest of you want, I’m playing Call Of Duty.” He said whilst signing into the game and running a hand through his short blonde hair.

“What the fuck man! We play that all the fucking time.” Johnny complained.

“Let me be play too and you can do whatever you want.” Kevin laughed whilst grabbing the second controller and joining Luke in the game.

“Fuck you guys I’m going to have a nap before we have to go.” Theo sighed with a yawn, tying his shoulder length, curly brown hair into a low bun as he walked towards his bunk.

I sat next to Luke and laughed at their childish bickering as they played their game. Johnny sat shouting commands at the two other boys.

“If you want to sit there and yell at us then you should have joined the fucking game asshole.” Kevin laughed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as they had begun to slip down.

“Fuck you, there’s only two controllers dipshit.” Johnny argued back.

I started to block out their arguing as I picked up the book that I had been reading and snuggled further into the corner of the sofa. I had found comfort in books during the very short time that we had been touring. Sure, performing on stage was an escape from real life, for both us and the crowd, but that was still work at the end of the day. Reading, however, had the power to transport you to a different world entirely, a different dimension even if that’s what you wanted to find. It allowed my mind to escape the cage that it was trapped in and explore the endless possibilities that life held. It allowed me to hide from my problems. To escape reality. To run and never stop running, not until I was happy, not until I was free. And that freedom was the greatest feeling in the world.

 Before I knew it, my eyes had started to droop and I drifted off into a peaceful sleep. The best that I would probably have on this tour. My dreams were surprisingly pleasant as I fell deeper into my slumber before a pair of hands grasped my shoulders and began to shake me awake.

“Rebecca…. Beccaa…. Bex…. Beckyyy…..” A deep sing-song voice chanted as he shook my shoulders. My eyes fluttered awake, and leaning over me stood Theo. “There she is.” He said once my eyes had fully opened.

“What?” I mumbled as I rubbed my eyes.

“We have to go in like forty minutes, and we thought you might want to get ready.” He went on.

I stood up and stretched my arms over my head before letting out a yawn and making my way to the bathroom so that I could re-do my makeup and brush the birds nest that had formed in my hair.

I decided not to do anything crazy and to just touch up the makeup that I already had on, which was a more natural look with dark brown eyeshadow lining my upper lash line just a little bit. I tied up the top half of my long, brunette hair into a bun at the back of my head, letting some face-framing pieces hang loosely around my face. I changed into a white tank top with spaghetti straps and some black wide-leg ripped jeans with fishnets underneath. I grabbed an old, red Flash hoodie, that previously belonged to my ex but I liked the hoodie too much to return it, and tied it around my waist just in case it got chillier later in the night.

“Okay I’m ready.” I announced to the guys who were all sat on the sofa arguing over what movie to watch later. Unsurprising as they usually had this argument, then would watch a movie that wasn’t even part of the equation to begin with.

“Great, let’s go.” Nick said as he stood up, rubbing his hands together.

We all nodded in agreement and followed him out of the bus and towards the barbeque. There was an opening in the middle of where the buses were parked in which a large fire pit, surrounded by mismatched deckchairs, had been set up. The barbeque itself was positioned next to a staff bus, that the Warped Tour management team were staying in. They were the ones who essentially ran the tour and wanted to ensure that it went as smoothly as possible.

Straight away, a British accent caught my attention as five guys started approaching us. “Hey! You guys must be the Magpies.” One of the men asked us with a huge grin on his face.

Holy fucking shit. Danny Worsnop from Asking Alexandria was talking to us. THE Danny Worsnop from THE Asking Alexandria was talking to us. Us? We were nobodies here. He fucking knew who we were. Holy fucking shit I must still be dreaming.

“Yep that’s us.” Johnny said with a smile on his face, sticking out his arm to shake Danny’s hand. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to introduce yourselves, we are big fans, Becca especially. But I’m Johnny and I’m the bass player, this dumbass is Theo our drummer, Luke and Kevin here are our guitar players, and this shy bitch is Becca, our singer.” Johnny introduced. We each raised our hands in a wave when Johnny said our names.

“It’s so nice to meet you all. It’s about time a new band joined the lineup.” Ben laughed.

“Well, the Black Veil Brides guys are new here.” Cam said.

“Yeah, obviously, but I mean a band we haven’t met before.” Ben laughed at his bandmate and rolled his eyes at Cam playfully.

“We toured with them last year for a while. They’re great guys.” James said to the rest of us.

“Hey, you should totally meet them later if you’re up for it.” Ben enthusiastically suggested.

“Yeah, totally.” Theo said with a smile. “But let’s eat first, I’m fucking starving.”

“Agreed.” Danny laughed. We all started walking towards the barbeque and Ben fell into step with me. We fell into easy conversation. I could tell immediately that we were going to be good friends.

“So how did your first show go?” Ben asked.

“It went fucking amazingly. We’ve never played to a crowd that big before, and they actually seemed to enjoy our set which was fucking brilliant.” I gushed.

“Yeah, I caught some songs towards the end of your set. You guys fucking crushed it. Andy said he saw the last few songs and thought you guys were pretty cool.” He said.

“Andy?” I asked.

“Yeah. Oh shit you haven’t met him yet. He’s the singer in Black Veil Brides. He’s super cool, I think you’d like him.” Ben explained.

“Cool. It’s weird having this many people on a tour together.” I continued. “It’s only ever really been us supporting another band. Never any more than that.”

“I remember when we started out like that. We thought we’d never make it, but look where we are now.” He laughed. “Once you get used to it, it gets less weird.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” I replied.

Before I even realised it, we had reached the barbeque. People from various different bands and their crew mingled about as they all socialised with eachother. It seemed as though most of the people here already knew eachother from previous tours.

Ben introduced me to his friends on the tour, which was already a shock to be hanging out with Ben fucking Bruce. I tried to push my nerves down as he introduced me to the likes of Vic Fuentes, Kelin Quinn, Oli Sykes, Chris Motionless and Ricky Horror. I surprised myself with how ‘normal’ I managed to act around them. After all, it’s not every day that you meet your favourite musicians. I tried to remind myself that I would be touring with these people, so it wouldn’t be the best idea to fangirl and embarrass myself the first time I met them.

Ben and I grabbed a burger each and sat down on some of the spare deck chairs to eat them.

“Have you just put gherkins in your fucking burger?” I asked Ben in utter disbelief.

“Yep.” He grinned, popping the p. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Of course I do that’s disgusting! I don’t think we can be friends after this.” I gasped at him in mock offense.

“Wow. You’re one of those?” Ben chuckled.

“One of what?” I laughed at him.

“Someone who doesn’t have taste.” He laughed.

I threw my dirty napkin at him in response.

“EW!” He screamed dramatically, throwing his own napkin right back at me.

I laughed hysterically at him.

“Okay. I’m glad you two are having fun, but I was sitting there, so if you could just move that would be great.” A deep voice tore through the bliss that I was experiencing with Ben.

“Oh fuck off Ronnie, we both know you weren’t sat here.” Ben rolled his eyes.

“Seriously, Bruce? You’re gonna start shit on the first day of tour?” The man, who I assumed was called Ronnie sighed back.

“Just fuck off Ronnie, the no one has to start shit.” Ben said through gritted teeth.

“Seriously man, why do you have to make everything so damn hard all the time!” Ronnie shouted at Ben.

“I’m not the problem here man.” Ben raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Take your pretty friend here, and go suck each other’s faces somewhere else jackass!” Ronnie yelled.

“Woah, woah.” Ben started, raising his voice at Ronnie, “We both know that’s not what was happening here okay. Let’s just move on.”

“Move.” Ronnie said through gritted teeth.

“No.” Ben said with a laugh, as he leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs, relaxing further.

Before I could even register what was happening, Ronnie lunged forward and shoved Ben out of the chair backwards. I jumped up and pushed Ronnie backwards so that he couldn’t lunge towards Ben anymore. Instead, he only stumbled back a few steps before he shoved me backwards too, nocking my beer out of my hand, making it spill all over me. I put my hands below me to try and stop the fall, when I felt a sharp pain in my hand. I lifted my hand up to get a look at it, only to be greeted with a shard of glass poking out the palm of my hand and blood dripping from the wound.

I winced as I slowly tried to pull the broken glass out of my hand, completely oblivious to the fact that Johnny and Luke had ran over and dragged Ronnie away before punching him in the face, knocking him to the floor. The shard of glass wasn’t anything massive, but once it was out of my hand, more blood pooled in the palm of my hand.

From behind me, I felt a pair of arms snake underneath my armpits and begin to pull me up to my feet. Once I was standing again, I turned to see who had lifted me up. I was greeted by a chest clad in a black t-shirt with the Batman logo on. The shirt hung slightly loosely on the skinny frame of the person, who I assumed was a man, who now stood in front of me. I had to crane my neck to see his face, which was obscured by long black locks of hair. I could make out an array of tattoos on his arms that I hadn’t noticed before.

Holy shit. This was the guy that I had literally ran into before my set earlier.

“You okay? That looks deep.” He said, concern plastered all over his face as he took my hand in his much bigger one.

“Y-y-yeah.” I stuttered out, still in shock from what had just happened.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” He led me gently away from where Johnny and Luke were being held back by Asking Alexandria and Ronnie was being dragged away by Jacky Vincent and Ryan Seaman.

The man led me to a tour bus where we met another man, who also had long black hair.

“Hey man, what the fuck?” The new man said with an incredulous look on his face as we got closer to the bus.

“Ronnie is back on his dumbass shit.” The first man, who was still holding my elbow, said in reply.

“Of course he is.” The second man scoffed while going into the tour bus, holding open the door for myself and the first man.

Their tour bus looked pretty much the same as ours did, except there was lots of makeup all over the place and various items that looked like they were made of leather. It was messier than ours too which I liked. It made me feel better about how I left things when I was getting ready.

“This is Jake.” The first man gestured to the second man. “I’m not too sure where the others are though? Probably still at the barbeque. It’s Becca right?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s me.” I said quietly with a weak laugh.

He stared at me for a beat as I looked at him expectantly. It felt like he was looking right into my soul with those blue eyes of his.

“Who are you?” I asked timidly.

“Me?” He pointed at his chest.

I nodded my head. I could tell he wasn’t very good at talking.

“I’m Andy.” He said with a beautiful smile. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Chapter 2

WE DON'T BELONG MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

[tokiwarcube]

Someday

Give it enough time, and nearly any memory will warp. Left untouched, little details will change, or be forgotten. But thankfully, your little weekly smoke-sesh with Skwisgaar keeps one memory in particular as vivid as they day it was formed.

Or, in which you get high with Skwisgaar and think back on a particularly fond memory with him.

Skwisgaar Skwigelf/Reader (GN, Pining)

Fluff, Early-Klok Skwis, Pining, Weed. 1.5k drabble -- Enjoy!

Giggles bubble from your chest as you roll to the side, casting another fond look at the blond as you twiddle your vape between your fingers. His face is a mirror of your own smiling one, gazing back at you as he rests his head on his arm. How long the two of you have been laughing together for, you’re not quite sure — all you know is that you’re having a good time, and isn’t that what matters?

Nights like these are the highlight of your week — a routine that the two of you have kept up seamlessly over the past decade or so of knowing each other, and you wouldn’t trade the habit for the world. You take another drag, savoring the subtle burn of the sweet vapor as you take it into your lungs, and the taste of strawberry lingers in the back of your throat as you blow it back out — its not your favorite one, personally, but you can’t find it in yourself to choose anything else, with how Skwisgaar seems to like this one in particular. You pass the stick over to him, watching a little too intently to be entirely platonic as he repeats your own motion. Breathe in, pause, exhale. His hair fans out like a halo around him, gold strands glimmering against the white satin sheets, and like this, you can see why so many people compare him to a God.

You’d never admit that to him, though.

And beneath all the purple prose beauty, he’s still your Skwisgaar — so different, and yet somehow still unchanged, from when you first started this routine nearly a decade ago.

Earthy smoke mixes with the midnight air, carrying the scent away with the breeze that flows through the corridors of your shitty, shared motel. It’s not particularly cold tonight — the perks of a Summer tour, you suppose.

You bring the lit joint to your lips, inhaling slow, and allowing your eyes to flutter shut for a moment. You hold it out expectantly, loosening your grip when you feel it being plucked from your fingertips. Smoke permeates deep into your lungs, bringing the earthen scent back a bit more strongly just as you exhale… and then bring your hand to your mouth as you try to suppress a cough. Your muffled wheeze evidently doesn’t go unnoticed, judging by the laughter that erupts from your side. You peel your eyes back open, slapping Skwisgaar’s bicep playfully.

“How does it feel to be an big babys?” He takes a puff of his own, although he doesn’t break eye contact as he inhales. It’s strange being able to make such direct eye contact, considering how far he tends to tower over you; although, with the way he leans on the railing, you get a front-row seat to his relaxed, hooded gaze. His eyes crinkle as he stares you down, lips quirking up around the smoking paper.

You roll your eyes, leaning in yourself to watch him pull — entirely platonically, you tell yourself. You’re high, everybody stares when they’re high.

“Big talk, coming from our resident princess,” you grin.

He shoots you a sneer then, pulling the joint away and breathing the smoke out into the night — thankfully not in your face, unlike some people.

“Am nots a princess,” he says, “What, ams—”

Cough.

“Ams you—”

Cough.

“Ams you going—”

You take pity on him this time, placing a hand on his back and rubbing gently. He relaxes then, much to your relief, as he turns his head for the moment and allows himself the fit.

“Yeah,” you finish for him, “ams gonna go to big babys daycare.” He’s used that line at least thrice in the week the two of you have been smoking together — once for each of the cumulative three times the exhale has caught you off guard, although you take no offense to the light ribbing. You pluck the joint from his fingertips, tapping the ash off the railing, and smile when his coughs start to turn into little laughs — it’s a sweet noise, one that you’ve been itching to hear more of lately.

It’s not like either of you are strangers to smoking — hell, it’s impossible to dodge substances while on tour, and from what you’ve gathered, he’s not exactly new to touring even beyond Dethklok — but neither of you have quite indulged to the extent of some of your fellow bandmates. And while of course it’s always available, the funds aren’t — and so, your little routine started. You’d buy the cheapest joint you could, and sneak off in the middle of the night to pass it between each other… without anyone with a particularly high tolerance to smoke it all. Or have a particularly rowdy pair threaten each other half to death. Or have someone try to lead the entire band on some adventure.

And that bit of extra time you’ve been spending with the Swede has been fun, to say the least. You didn’t know what you were expecting when you first met him those short handful of months ago — the strange coldness he exuded was something that, frankly, you thought would never leave him. But he managed to surprise you — there’s a lot more to him than he lets on. Namely, his sense of humor.

You pass the stick back and forth, savoring the lightness in your chest even as the smoke infests your lungs — some of your giddiness is from the intoxication, sure, but there’s something else there, too. Something without words — felt, more than understood. Laughter takes over your conversation, distance closing little by little.

“It ams a laba— labra— the dog, it—” he pauses, giggling, “the dog—”

You lean into him, letting out a laugh of your own. You can’t tell if it’s from the weed, or from his delivery of the most 50-year-old-dad joke you’ve ever heard, but it seems to be the funniest thing in the world to you right about now. He leans back into you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder in attempt to stabilize the both of you from your hazy sway.

Everything seems a little more vibrant, then — the lights of the city below you; the white shirt that clings to his chest, practically glowing in the night; even the scent of his cologne seems to grow stronger, drawing you in further. Your eyes crinkle when you look back up to fire back a teasing retort, only to be met with the most beautiful shade of blue. Much closer than he was a few moments ago.

The two of you still as your eyes meet, laughter fading away gracefully like smoke in the night air. Smiles linger on both of your lips, even as you swallow thickly in the space between you. Even as his tongue darts out to wet his lips, your eyes tracing the movement. It’s only once you feel yourself leaning in that you feel your composure dissolve into something more openly wanting — breath intermingling in the inches between you, then centimeters, then—

“If these fucking douchebags are out here smoking without us, I’m kicking their fucking asses.”

You rip apart from each other at the sound, motel door latching shut just down the hall. One, two, three, then four pairs of shoes start to echo against the rickety floors, and it’s not even a thought in your mind when you link hands with the guitarist to drag him down the stairwell on shaky legs. Neither of you are too good at stifling your giggles in your intoxicated state, and the adrenaline of what your shared moment could have been swirl with the stickiness of the compounds in your lungs to cement a memory that would find its way into your blood, forever.

“What ams you thinking about?” He nudges you with the edge of your pen, speaking fluidly as the smoke rolls out of his mouth. You cast a look towards the dying wisps of vapor as they settle into the white fabric beneath your bodies, and you feel a softness come over you at the sight. You’ve spent years like this, and frankly, you think you could easily do another decade. You take the stick from him, resuming your mindless fidgeting with a grin.

“Thinking about how good you used to look in white.” You take a quick drag, blowing it out over your shoulder — “It suits you.”

He blinks for a moment, before recovering. “You flatters me. But you knows,” he says, spreading his legs on the bedspread, “I think I looks especially good when I ams wearing nothing at—”

His squawk as you bring the fluffy pillow down on his head, combined with his ensuing flailing limbs when he tries to defend himself from your attack, sparks a bubble of laughter from you. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

You’ll get that kiss, someday.

[catchingbigfish]

writeblr re-introduction | catchingbigfish

hi! call me elle (they/them). i'm in my 30s, work adjacent to the legal field in my day job, and i'm studying for my MA in english! i post more about my life over at my main, @prettytothink-so, which is also the account i follow from!

i'm a david lynch obsessive, hence the url/pfp, but i love death bed: the bed that eats as much as i do blue velvet. my primary literary influences are shirley jackson, carmen maria machado, janet fitch, confessional poets, and more recently, a healthy dose of knausgaard.

i write prose & poetry with a heavy emphasis on the body, the darker sides of life, and relationships. my fiction is character-centric, driven by ensemble casts of weird and fucked up people, and characters tend to go through exquisite and grotesque things like body horror, warped and broken time, hauntings, posessions, and sex. my work is definitely 18+ and i try not to engage with minors.

i'd love to get to know other writers, esp if you write/read any of the following:

dysfunctional relationships (particularly with ensemble casts and found or of-origin families)

horror and gothic literature

body horror, nightmares, and dream logic

romance, including sex, and relationships, esp. in horror themes

i like to say i'm always open to ask + tag games, but i'm most likely to respond to an ask game than a tag! if you wanna know more about my wips, see below the cut for my primary projects or check out my wip masterlist:

click the titles for the wip intros!

conversion

status: drafted (80k words); w/ beta readers short synopsis: Rosalyn arrives to campus for her MFA in fashion-making and falls into a group of sick women artists bonded by a disputed diagnosis. She starts faking it to fit in, finds the friendships she'd always wanted, and ends up with a choice between the unthinkable and her new ride-or-die crew.

dark academia/litfic/cult novel. this project has had me in a chokehold for 18+ months and it's the most fun i've ever had writing something. stay tuned for my query journey, coming to you probably near the end of this year!

might've been, never was

status: drafted (55k words) short synopsis: Lily and her friends thought their thirties would be different. They find a way to adopt new bodies, but one of them takes it too far, and the rest have to decide whether to stop her or join in.

a satire in the same vein as conversion. currently vying with the next two WIPs for main focus while betas work through conversion. project playlist is 2 songs: teen idle and celebrity skin. the closest i'll ever come to autofiction because the idea to write "a love letter to being mentally ill in your 30s" came up when i was a teensy bit manic.

seed of the woman

status: drafted (27k words) short synopsis: A woman goes on a Christian yoga retreat hoping to return to some sense of her self. Instead, she's bitten by a snake and goes on a tour through the choices that led her here.

body horror/religious horror novella. nightmare/dream-logic story that's my latest attempt to write something explaining how rational and reasonable a choice it would be for a woman to choose satan over god.

on fire

status: drafting short synopsis: Elissa wakes up one day after being cheated on with the power to consume creative energy from men she seduces.

the novella i conceived on december 21 and outlined and zero drafted on december 24. very similar to SOTW in structure (based on the outline template i made for it, in fact) and similar in its feminine-rage-in-a-magical-realist-world themes; inspired by the baobhan sith figure, the MC is kind of a succubus/vampire/cannibal mix. set at the same university as conversion! i stole this title from a terrible novel i wrote at 19 btw. the emphasis is on "on", like "a treatise on", not being lit on fire. it is very pretentious.

heartbeat

status: outlining short synopsis: A coming-of-age saga about a nonbinary kid who realizes not every carries their heart outside of their body and struggles to figure out what to do with it.

kind of an epic saga in the style of middlesex where a nonbinary kid has to learn to deal with being different, grows into an adult with no coping skills, and all of the dysfunctional family dynamics you would anticipate with me writing it

[cakeemoji]

collection of fics i've written :]

| links in each section are sorted by most "recent" to oldest lol; click "read more" to view the rest (watered down my works in the mini description here so please read the tags of my pieces for more info !!)

rinhime works (enstars)

☆ gold-plated | rinne has a tongue piercing, himeru commences the act to make out. a little all over the place regarding the metaphors and stuff. sorry

☆ forget-me-nots | rinhime bathe together and speak of philosophical things aka immortality (set in a universe i call "the warped tour au" hehe)

☆ a little death | rinhime metaphorical cannibalism

☆ favourite record | written for rinhime week 2023. one of the prompts was "alternative universe" so i wrote this in mind to crossover with mcr's concept album, "danger days". features crazy:b as killjoys and a little peek into their crazy lives :]

☆ black morgue + back to you | two-shot mini-series, based on the concept of a one-night stand, some love and the aftermath. third person limited, himeru-centric.

rinnazu works (enstars)

☆ rinne puts his boyfriend on speaker (WHAT HAPPENS NEXT WILL SHOCK YOU) | rinne gets a call from nazuna and puts him on speaker, traumatizing crazy:b for life (<-a pretty unserious work so i shared it under a separate pseud)

☆ u pretty, he ugly! u swan, he frog! | shu finds rinne and nazuna holding hands one not-so-peaceful morning. he assumes the worst

☆ hand in mine into ur icy blues | in which rinne and nazuna laze around on a snow day and warm each other up :3c (written in dec 2023)

applejuice works (twst)

☆ madol for your thoughts? | deuce and epel go on a date (very fluff-oriented ^_^)

☆ small, simple, safe price | deuce and epel bond over apple carving

mammon/reader works (shall we date?: obey me!)

☆ winter mood/dreaming of spring | emotional hurt/comfort, dabbled on idea of wanting to love + be loved while being terrified of commitment and never being good enough

☆ we'll get by, somehow | "i'm tired of losing people i love." - a take on a "what if" scenario where MC dies in L16 (<-personally, i think this is the best thing i've written for this fandom)

☆ bulletproof loneliness at best | in which reader finds old scars on mammon's back and comforts him, features small scene of bathing together and sleeping together (literal sense)

☆ where i belong | waking up from a nightmare and being comforted by the great mammon =]

☆ summertime | inspired by the devilgram "a private beach for two", short & sweet.

☆ hearts only hurt from here | heavy on hurt/comfort + implied/referenced self-harm. based on what i wanted to hear when i was in a dark place.

hidadei works (naruto)

☆ hands that god gave you | two gross men do gross things (care for each other)

☆ a lovely night | inspired by the song from la la land the musical; this was written in 2021 so it's definitely not all that great lol