#pete wentz I’m in your fucking walls

[coldhands-sunkeneyes]

Category 5 fall out boy moment

[robertsbarbie]

young and menace is literally one of if not THE coolest song fall out boy has ever done

[microposting]

macro/micro, all m/m, nsft, noncon, ownership, objectification

A man meets someone at a punk show with some unique (and unwilling) piercing jewelry.

He was a little embarrassed about it. Whole basement full of people in t-shirts, hoodies, jeans, cargo shorts, understated glasses, natural-color hair, normal, ordinary, perfectly attractive people, and here he was stealing glances at Mr. Hot Topic. Like a time traveler from 2005. Like a kid’s show’s idea of a punk rocker. But fuck if the eye shadow wasn’t doing something for him.

Bo leaned over to Mickey. “Billie Joe Armstrong over there,” he shouted. Might as well be whispering, the band was so loud. This was why he didn’t go to punk shows.

Mickey laughed. “Gerard Way over there?”

“Yeah, yeah, Pete Wentz over there. You know these people. He into dudes?”

He shrugged. “Fucking look at him. If he’s not bi, I’ll eat my socks.”

While the bands switched over, Bo approached him with a beer. He was sweaty from moshing, his dye-fried hair tussled, and very glad for the beverage. The guy was a few inches shorter than Bo, chubbier. His tattoos were numerous and seemed mostly DIY, and Bo was pretty sure he caught a glance of nipple piercing when his shirt settled just right.

“You’re pretty hardcore, man,” he opened. “No way you don’t have a band, right?”

He laughed. “Aw, I’m kind of in-between right now. Why, you trying to start something?”

“Well, I wanna start something .” Bo rose his brows.

He looked him up and down and licked his lips. “Teddy,” he said.

“Bo.” 

They shook hands.

The shed in the backyard was unlocked. Bo slammed him against one decaying wood wall, between a scrap metal shelf and a lawnmower, and a shower of dust rained on them. Tongues in mouths immediately. Fuck yes, a tongue piercing. The next band was starting up, he could hear them muffled through the wall. Grimy, throbbing, loud. That would make a nice soundtrack.

Against his tongue, something… moved? Did Teddy’s tongue piercing just move?

Bo pulled back. It was way too dark in here to see anything but the outlines of his face. The slightest shadow betrayed his frown. “Um, I think your piercing, um-”

“Oh!” He laughed. “Fuck, sorry, I forgot. Hold on.” Teddy took his phone out and shone the flashlight into his mouth. 

“Oh, shit!”

There was a guy in there. In his tongue. Some sort of plate encircled his chest, keeping him in place. His arms were spread out over the tongue’s surface. Couldn’t have been taller than an inch. Teddy flipped his tongue up to show off his little legs, kicking frantically. He was nude, except for the hardware. 

Teddy flicked off his phone light and Bo stuttered weakly. He wanted a better look, he wanted to figure out that mechanics of that whole thing. Was it clamped on? Screwed? Who agreed to do that? Why was there a tiny guy? 

“Bandmate,” Teddy said, as if that explained anything. “That’s why we broke up. There was some weird electrical incident during practice while I was on a smoke break. I like to keep an eye on ‘em.”

“And they’re cool with that?”

He cackled. “Absolutely not!”

Bo slipped his hand up Teddy’s shirt. His “nipple piercings” were soft and warm and wiggled at his touch. It felt like these two were strapped lengthwise along barbells. Cuffed at the wrists and ankles, maybe?

“Here’s a fun game,” Teddy said. “See if you can make them all come.”

“And what’s the prize?”

“I’ll suck your fucking dick, Bo, obviously.”

He smiled. That was fair.

Kissing first, then. Bo lapped at the tiny man’s chest. He imagined him sputtering and shouting. Couldn’t actually hear anything over the music. Of course, it didn’t take much to drown out a voice that small.

He paused. “Who is he, anyways?”

“Rich. He was tryna get us to call him Dragon, though. Drummer.”

“He’s in your mouth, and he’s not the vocalist?”

Teddy laughed. “You’ll get there.”

His tongue returned and slipped down underneath. The man tried to kick his legs against him to keep his tongue away just a little bit longer, so Bo twisted it vertically and slid in between. He pressed up hard and dragged back slow, rocked his tongue back and forth, grinded against him. If he really focused he could taste it… the musk, the sweat. He must be sweating nonstop in there, far more humid than any sauna. Bo flicked his tongue against the tiny sack. With the smallest bit of pressure, his tongue could press in and envelope his entire package. He wiggled it until he felt the whole body stiffen, and then the littlest hint of salt.

Bo pulled back. Saliva dribbled down his chin. “That was hot,” he panted.

“Don’t stop now,” Teddy teased back.

He pushed his shirt up and slicked his inner lip against Teddy’s solid, wrinkled nipple. His piercing strained against the contact. 

Teddy gasped and sighed. “That’s Al. Bassist. But I just call him lefty now.”

Bo could slide him out to one side. He kissed his lower half and felt the nub of his straining cock poking between his lips. Could just barely hear him yell… Not sure if it was a scream of pleasure or resistance, but both ideas were getting him hard. He was so little, he couldn’t even penetrate halfway through Bo’s pursed lips. Bo half-sucked half-kissed on him. The tiny man awkwardly tried to hump back and he smiled. “I think lefty’s liking this,” he muttered.

Teddy laughed. “Oh, are you being a good toy, Al? You being a sweetie?”

Bo smiled and gave his nipple another kiss. He tasted cum.

He wondered if they’d all wind up obedient and eager one day, like this one seemed to be becoming. Maybe it was just too overwhelming. The smell, the taste, the feeling of his flesh encircling them. They were almost part of his body. It had to be maddening. 

“Good boy,” Bo whispered. He heard a squeak in response. 

He brought his hand to Teddy’s right nipple. Righty had a lot more fight in him. Bo leaned in and brought his ear up. God, he was screaming, but he couldn’t begin to make it out. It sounded a bit more like desperate begging than anger, he thought. Bo spat on him and brought his ear back, right up to him, then pinched the piercing longways and wiggled him back and forth so the saliva worked its way between him and the interior of the nipple keeping him captive. His shouting devolved into humiliating, uncontrolled noises, and finally a long moan and quiet panting.

“Your vocalist’s got lungs,” Bo muttered.

Teddy laughed. “Nah, Grant was lead guitar.”

He frowned. “You’re vocalist?”

“Nope. Keyboard. Still gotta make the vocalist cum.”

Bo’s fingers trailed down to his belly button. Empty.

“C’mon, dude, you being dense?”

His eyebrows twitched. Oh. Duh. 

Bo reached down and slowly, carefully unzipped Teddy’s jeans. He tugged down his underwear, that smooth-textured mesh kind, and felt up his cock. On the short side, with a nice thickness and shockingly soft skin. And there on the very tip, one last tiny body. Prince Albert style, ankles and wrists cuffed together by a strict straight piece of metal, coated completely in pre. 

“Fuck,” Bo whispered. “Lemme see.”

“Go ahead.”

He got down on his haunches and turned on his phone flash. God, the little guy was soaked . Long hair flattened against him, thick liquid coating his whole body. He looked right into Bo’s eyes and even at his tiny, tiny size his expression was clear. Contempt. And exhaustion.

Bo took his sweet time looking at him. The erection must have been constricting him even further, what did that feel like? To be so directly at the mercy of another man’s libido? When Teddy came… when he pissed …

He leaned in and slowly licked up his shaft, taking his sweet, sweet time dragging the very tip of his tongue up the man’s body. Teddy moaned, and even more pre bubbled up around the man. He sputtered and gagged. 

“Frontman gets front stage,” Bo muttered.

“Now you’re getting it.”

He turned off his phone and stood back up. Before Teddy could argue, Bo pulled out his dick. With a hand, he carefully pressed their heads together. Fuck. God, fuck, it was incredible feeling the little man against him. The prisoner. He was like an insect compared to a of couple dudes fucking in a stranger’s garden shed.

Bo jacked them both off, tip to tip, the little piece of jewelry smashed in the center of them. “Jesus,” he hissed. “It’s so fucking hot, Teddy, they live in you.”

“It’s all I think about,” he panted. “He feels every twitch in my cock. They-they feel everything.”

“They should worship you.”

Teddy moaned and spurted over his hand, his cock, and no doubt half-drowned his prisoner. “Oh, fuck. Shit. Sorry, I─ Jesus, you got me hot.”

“Please suck me off,” he muttered.

“Yeah, dude. Yeah, yeah.” Teddy got down on his knees and licked up Bo’s shaft and oh god, he nearly forgot about the tiny in there. His arms fruitlessly fought off the tide of his flesh, and when Teddy took him in and pumped in and out he flailed to find any stability at all. “Are you jealous?” Teddy asked.

“God, yes.”

“You’d like some too, wouldn’t you?” He brought his tongue up and expertly slid the upper half of the little body down Bo’s slit. Oh, god, all those tiny movements suddenly dancing around inside of his cock.

Bo gasped and grabbed at his hair. “Yes!”

“I could… set up another accident. Maybe some of your friends. Or a hookup.”

“Please, please. Let’s be gods, Teddy.”

“You’d really be willing to do that? To another human being?”

“Yes!!” he squealed.

Teddy chuckled. “Good to know. I actually was thinking about a navel piercing.”

Bo froze. “Wait─” he muttered, but Teddy had already gone back to sucking him off, even more vigorously. He tried shoving him off and his hands faltered, his collar slipped over his shoulder, his pants slipped down. “Wait, Teddy─” he whimpered, and his voice was already so much smaller. Teddy bent over further and further down until he had to scoop Bo up, letting his shirt fall to the ground. Sitting in his hands, he was handheld. And the tongue, it was just so overwhelming. Bo couldn’t manage to get any sort of grip to push it off, just a helpless victim to its pressure. He came into Teddy’s wide-open mouth, assaulting him with awful humid air, and he could feel it, he could tell it could easily fit him in by now. Bo scrambled desperately away, but to where? There was palm on every side of him, and an awful fall past that.

Light blinded him and the surface he laid on tipped around as his new owner inspected him. “But maybe a scrotal piercing would be better… How ‘bout a trial run?” The light flicked off. His world turned and tumbled Bo went into a rapid free-fall. He hit some tense fabric, trampoline-like, and that shifted too until he was pressed up against bumpy, musky skin, squashed directly underneath his sack. “See how you like it, hardware,” Teddy called down. “Not like you’ll have much choice.”

[misc-musings]

going through pete wentz’s old livejournal posts bc of the masterdoc and im still in awe that he wrote SIX different songs from this one entry. SIX SONGS from this one paragraph he was crazy for this. For reference, this post has quotes/references to the following FOB and PATD songs which therefore are all somehow partially from this post: The Calendar, I’ve got all this ringing in my ears and none in my fingers, Hum Hallelujah, Kaleidoscope Eyes, The (After)life of the Party, and I’m like a Lawyer. maybe 2 of these are a stretch but thats still solidly 4 songs from this one post. Post is under the read more. I’ve bolded the references.

sunday, august 27, 2006

“plain jane and the boy next door.

there is one single pair of eyes that could ever decode any of this. put another “x” on the calendar. summer is on its deathbed. there is simply nothing worse than knowing the ending- that no matter what curve balls or uphill come your way- it still turns out the same. this year its stripes and pumps, last year it was dancefloors and you. she keeps talking, i keep staying the same. did you ever change your mind about someone and then just realize it was a fucking haircut. put me in a frame on your wall, just to keep me out of trouble. i gotta say i admire bob dylan for being honest about his new record. noone ever is. its like when the ad campaign rolls out everyone is smiling and at their best even if they are not sure. an affectionate friend told me everything i ever needed to know about anything. “freeze! put down that fucking laptop!”. everything is always either digging a hole or digging yourself out of one. and just when you have it all figured out you should just sift through your pile of “never again"s. quite a collection. blow off the dust. im sure they will be worth something to someone sometime. its buzzing in the back of your head and out of your fingertips. pull back the shade- the road outside of my house is paved with good intentions. but it is hell on the undercarriage of the car so we’re gonna have to hire a construction crew. i wonder if anyone else things of you as much as i do, even you.

“If I should call you up, invest a dime And you say you belong to me and ease my mind Imagine how the world could be, so very fine So happy together…”

a mutual misunderstanding. kaleidoscope eyes sparkle on pillows in the dark. and i dont care what anyone thinkgs of that except me. put the love on hold, anticipation is on the other line and excitement called while you were out. imagine me and you…..”

[redbullseb]

keeley @babysdrivers tagged me to post a list of things that bring me joy! ty for the tag bestie <3 ok here goes, very basic but:

friends!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i fucking love my friends!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i’m pretty wary of getting into new friendships and it may be frustrating to kick my emotional walls down but once we are Friends™ i’m ride or die

music!!! what is life without the simple pleasure of having patrick stump quote pete wentz originals in my ear wherever i go? of being able to wander down to the harbour and play famous pieces on a rickety, sea-salt-worn piano to an audience of fish and tourists? of patting my beloved baethoven fondly every time i see it? home is where the piano is, my friends, and my baby is there if i look to my right.

frank iero. surprise! who saw this coming. the thought of him is just <33333 love of my life truly i don’t think i’ve ever loved another man more

hyping others up for their accomplishments!! u deserve to be proud of your work and for people to proud of you also!!!!!

no pressure tags: @sunshine-ricciardo @seblore @maranello @vettelton @macabrecowboy @recidivae @doritosharl @goldenhourhimbo

[growntolovesecrecyfic]

Grown to Love Secrecy - Chapter Two (Petekey)

Can be read here.

Summary:  Mikey Way hates Oscar Wilde but Pete Wentz convinces him to read The Picture of Dorian Gray.

Chapter Two: Walking on Fire

--

Pete spent a lot of summers in cramped vans, and hotel rooms with sweaty dudes and expensive musical instruments and this summer is no different. The slight homoerotic tension between Pete and almost every dude he’s ever met is strong, not that Pete or any of his friends minded.

They all kiss sometimes and most of the time the press pays not mind as it’s not that big of a deal and other times tabloids have him and his friend kissing on the front cover everywhere with the F-slur painted across in bright red telling the world, “Hey, look! Pete Wentz kisses dudes!”

The tabloids have a lot to say and quite frankly, he doesn’t care anymore. All press is good press, right?

Pete spits into the sink of the Walmart bathroom that other bands from Warped have occupied that morning. Today was Patrick’s day on the bus bathroom.

He rinsed his mouth and stepped aside, letting Andy take the sink for his own routine. He walks over to the wall where Joe is and leans against it. The eggshell-colored wall was cooled against his hot skin after being out in the Dallas heat.

“Hey, man.” Joe greeted Pete to which he responded with a nod, “so any plans for after our set?” Pete thought for a moment, remembering that he did in fact have plans with Mikey tonight. Not that anybody in the band needed to know that.

“No, not that I know of. You?” Pete asked while fiddling with the drawstrings of his clandestine pajama pants. Joe shrugged before responding, “Just regular life on the Warped, you know?”

Pete nods and they exchange some more small talk and soon enough, Andy joins them, and they’re ready to take on Warped.

As they exit the Walmart, they pass families whose kids stare in adoration and parents stare in disgust. It’s not that uncommon for people to recognize them. Fall Out Boy was getting big fast and it did stress them out as they felt the pressures from their record label to push out a new album as soon as possible to keep the momentum going. Warped is their salvation for that summer. No record label, you’re constantly busy doing the thing you love and sometimes you’re in bumfuck nowhere and nobody knows who you are, those are the best kind of places.

After walking out into the parking lot, the trio realize that they’ll need to find some place to eat before their set that morning. They have three hours to kill before practice and without a car and Patrick still on the bus, it is their civic duty to fuel up now and get Patrick something he’ll like, like oatmeal or something.

And later that morning when Pete met a fan who was uncontrollably crying and threw up on his shoes, he could tell that it was going to be a painfully long day.

And he was right. After their set, they met with some fans and he had some run ins with some reporter asking about Jeanae or whatever her name was. He chooses to forget those years in his life. He ignores her texts, fake pregnancy positives and whatever sexual favor she asks of him that day. It’s been pissing him off that entire day and he wanted to let off steam. The only positive that came from that day was Patrick buying him some new underwear for a late birthday gift and his new fuckbuddy, Mikey Way. He promised to meet with him tonight and Mikey told him that the bus was empty. Pete feels that he’ll finally cop a feel tonight.

Laughter and The Smiths fills the My Chemical Romance bus however the guys were nowhere to be found except for a pair of boys at the back of the bus on the floor, “Rusty? Really?” Mikey asked and Pete just responded with grin and nodded enthusiastically.

Mikey shook his head, “Nuh-uh, I don’t believe it one bit. You don’t even look like a Rusty!” Mikey accused.

“Dude trust me! I would have been Rusty Wentz!” Pete cringed a bit at the thought but turned into a fit of laughter after seeing Mikey clutch his stomach and roll over on his side, hand covering his mouth trying to contain his laughter.

After a few minutes, the laughter finally died down. Mikey removing his glasses to wipe his eyes and Pete coughed as he tried to catch his breath before something caught his eye.

“What’s that, Mikeyway?” Pete asked. He points at an object to show to Mikey where it is.

Mikey turns to see where Pete was point at, “Oh, that’s some book that Gerard has been trying to get me to read but never did.” He answers as he gets up and gets it from his bunk. He sits on his bed and goes through the pages, “I have beef with Oscar Wilde.”

Pete chortles at Mikey’s last statement as he sits on the bed next to him, “Yeah? I love him. He’s one of my favorite writers.”

Mikey looks up at older man, furrowing his brows and slowly handing him the book, “Really? Never thought you were the type.”

“To what? Read?” Pete joked.

Mikey was quick to defend himself, “No! I never thought you were into this type of literature. It’s darker and like a horror, I guess? I think that’s why Gerard likes it so much.” He moves closer to Pete, hesitant to lay his head on his shoulder but swallows his doubts and gently place his cheek against his right shoulder.

Pete smiled, eyes moving from the book and on Mikey now, “Do you mind if I read this to you? Maybe I can learn you a thing or two.” His grin was wider now, and Mikey couldn’t help but smile back at him. He loves this. He loves that it’s them. Them alone. And with him.

“Sure. Maybe you can teach me how to love Oscar Wilde at the end of this?” Mikey asks. Pete only laughs, “I can’t teach you to that. It’s up to you if you want to love him. You chose to hate him so why not choose to love him?” Pete asked, his eyes back on the book.

“Well, we can’t choose who we love now, can we?” Mikey asked. It was more of a question for himself rather than Pete. He’s had this struggle within himself for a long time. The first boy he’s ever kissed was his best friend in 8th grade and they haven’t talked since. He’s been quiet about their whole fight and why he came back home with a black eye (and broken heart).

Pete stilled at Mikey’s question then resumed to his reading. He turns to the preface, “Do you wanna start here?” Pete asks Mikey in a whisper. He nods and Pete continues, “The artist is the creator of beautiful things. To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's aim. The critic is he who can translate into another manner or a new material his impression of beautiful things.”

Mikey raises his head from Pete’s shoulder, raising his eyebrows, “Hm, wow. That’s kind of deep?” He readjusts himself, “Do you mind if I put my head on your lap?”

Pete smirks, “I mean… What do you plan on doing down there?”

Mikey didn’t get it immediately but lightly smacks Pete on the arm when he does, “Dude! No! I’m not that type of guy.” He exclaimed, his cheeks and nose turning pink. Pete laughs in response, rubbing his arm.

“I don’t believe that, Mikeyway. I’ve heard the rumors about you.” Pete shook his head and set the book down, placing a hand on Mikey’s thigh.

Mikey froze up a bit. What rumors? Why is his hand there? Why is he feeling so lightheaded? The warm knot in his stomach is forming slowly but surely. That can’t be good, right?

“Uhm, wh-what rumors?” Mikey asked. He’s genuinely confused, being behind Gerard’s shadow for most of his life he didn’t know that people cared enough about him to start rumors about him.

“Oh, you know.” he grinned at Mikey, moving closer to him. He put his other hand on Mikey’s other thigh, moving them both up slowly. Mikey’s breath hitched and Pete took this as a ‘yes’.

Mikey shook his head. He didn’t know.

“The ones about how you’re always willing to fuck after a show and your tight jeans no underwear combo,” Pete stops when his face was inches away from Mikey and whispers, “I just wanna know if it’s true.”

He leans in closer, capturing Mikey’s lips into his own. Mikey let out a small gasp in shock before Pete does so. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Yes, Pete and he kissed before but not like this. He couldn’t.

He moved his head away from Pete and pushed him off.

Pete was confused, Mikey never did that before. He looked at him and tried to read his face, but it was confusing him.

“Uh, did I do something wrong?”

Mikey’s heart was pounding so hard and fast, he didn’t really know what to say. He wanted to kiss Pete but he’s so confused. What rumors? Who’s saying those things? Nothing could leave his mouth. It was all different thoughts racing through his brain that day.

He shakes his head and brings Pete’s mouth back to his again.

[radicalravioli]

Sin I sin Priest!gerard

I've had my empty life on my mind lately due to moving out so early .

I'm 17 and my parents kicked me out after I finished high school. I bought a lovely apartment in New York to go to the local visual arts college .

My grandparents send me money every month cuz my mom and dad don't want to .

I rolled out of my bed and put on my black skirt(witch should be like 4inches longer but you know)with a off the shoulder black crop top witch I paired with some black converse and eyeliner . Don't want Pete Wentz getting angry today .

I thought about it long and hard after releasing that I'm gonna go to the church to find SOME kind of hope in my depression filled life .

Grabbing my iPod and putting on some fall out boy I headed to the nearest cathedral .

--------:-:--------

I entered the building as the stained glass caught my eye .

I was paying attention to the artwork not even realising what I'm here for , I carried on getting distracted as I almost tripped .

"Hello young lady"a husky voice came from behind me as my eye caught a man in his 30s with inky black hair and dreamy hazel eyes . He had a collar on so I guess this unbelievably hot man is the priest .

Wow

"Hello Father"I tried not to look him directly in the eyes .

He smiled stepping closer to me as he stuck his hand out for me to shake .

I shook his hand as he still kept that smile .

"So what is bothering you my child?"

He asked ignorant to know .

A bille rose in my throat as I stared at him .

"I feel that my life is unbelievably empty , Father . I moved out of my parents house and started my new life but I feel like something is missing"I said .

He stepped a bit closer just enough for him to put his hand on my shoulder.

"Well my child , maybe the presence of your loved ones?" He asked as his black hair fell in front of his face , god he was sexy .

"No, Father I fear that that's not the case"sighing I dropped my head and looked at the floor , he wore black converse too , nice.

He carefully lifted up my face and stared at my eyes .

"I don't know Father , I don't know what to do " I mumbled as his grip on my shoulder tightened .

"Maybe it's just some problem with your urge to commit a sin , my child"he spoke softly .I froze

Sin?

"Witch sin father"I looked desperate for the answer .

He sighed shaking his head .

"The sin of lust"

The fuck ???

Homie if it's the way I dress then it's you who is desperate for pussy .

I'm not desperate for sex am I ?

Yeah I like to wear shit like this some times but that doesn't mean I wanna fuck .

"Father I assure you that I don't have the urge to commit any kind of sin" I tell him as inches closer .

What's wrong w this dude ????

"On your knees my child" his voice became stern as he pushed me to stand in front of him on my knees .

If you were church I'd get on my knees

Yeah thanks Pete .

I blushed madly , considering that if you were on your knees in front of a guy that means that he expects a blow job .

He chuckled as he stared at me from above .

"See my child , you have the urge to commit a sin "

My blood boiled , how dare he fool around with me like this .

"Well Father I'm positive that you are the same , all those years . Alone without anybody , and I'm sure that that hand of yours did get to use , but it's way apart from the real thing is it ?"I sassed as he gulped staring down in disbelief .

"And you know what Father since I'm already on my knees , and not praying I mind as well fix that problem of yours"I pointed at the bulge in his pants .

I started to unzip them reviling his black boxers , he was still in shock . However watching my every move .

I pulled out his shaft and stroked it a couple of times as from his mouth escaped moans .

I took him in and bobbed my head , his hands grabbed my hair as I continued to suck him off .

"Sweet Jesus " he whimpered as he buckled his hips resulting in a gag from me.

Ok ok , yeah he is like 35 and I'm 17 but it was just so tempting .

I moaned against him , as he twitched and his breath escaped his mouth (Gerard Ways many moans and groans ;))

"Stand up dear"said the priest as I stood up in front of him .

He placed his lips on mine as he tucked his still erect cock in his boxers .

His tongue slowly glided against my bottom lip as a gasp escaped my lips .

Our tongues danced as his hands wondered around . He slowly cupped my boob though my bra.

I took off the crop top as he reached to undo my bra , his jaw dropped as my cleavage spilled in front of him .

All those years of being horny and alone .

He took the left one in his mouth as I moaned loudly . He smirked against the sensitive skin and moved up to leave a kiss on my lips .

As he left the part that he'd previously payed attention due to the breeze that hit the exposed skin and dried saliva my nipples hardened and I shivered quietly .

He pressed me against the cool wall of the church causing a mother pleasurable moan to escape my lips.

Lifting up my skirt and pulling my panties aside he shoved two fingers inside of me , pumping them up and down rapidly .

"How's that darling ? Enjoying your lustful sin " he breathed out , I could feel his hot breath on my neck.

"Mmh" I moaned as he clasped a hand over my mouth . "Did I say you could make any noise princess ? I don't think so ". He said as I nodded .

His fingers curled hitting my g spot .

I tried not to moan but it was driving me over the edge .

"So disrespectful aren't we princess" I bit my lip as he removed his fingers , I cried out in the loss of pleasure.

"Now now darling , for this you need to be punished "he softly spoke as he reached over to grab something from a drawer.

He pulled out a red tie , the amusement on his face was apparent . He stepped closer to me "hands above your head "

He said . I did as he pleases and he tied them with the tie .

Then took out his belt , eyeing it for a while after opening his mouth again .

"Count them sugar , maybe it will be less painful that way" crap.

Turning around he lifted my skirt and slowly slipped off my panties . Then pressed me to the cold wall witch made me whimper .

The priest inched closer and took a hand full of my ass before the leather of the belt made contact with the sensitive skin of my behind .

I cried out not only in pain but in pleasure also .

"What did I say ?" His voice was stern and hard , as he turned me around and forced a heated kiss .

He dropped the belt and softly put his hand on my waist .

"I'm sorry I hurt you princess"he softly mumbled as my face softened

"It's ok Father , I like it when you're rough"I purred , slowly leaning into his touch .

He stuffed the crimson panties in his pocket as he lifted me up , carrying me to a room with a large desk in the middle of it .

He placed me on the desk crouching in front of me . I could feel his hot breath on my wet folds as he looked up at me and gave me a sly smirk.

His mouth was placed on me.  I let out a pornographic moan as he flicked his tongue .

I buckled my hips , a chuckle left his pink lips as it send electricity though my body . "So wet for me baby mmh" he mumbled.  His lips still on my cunt.

I became a moaning mess as he toyed with my clit .

"You like that baby ? Hu ? "

He pulled away from my entrance .

"Please...."I whined as he sent me a smirk , his eyes filled with lust .

"Please what princess ? Use that pretty mouth of yours"the nickname was enough to make me orgasm right there and then .

"F-Father , please .....I need you to fill me up " I breathed out , I never used dirty talk even though it turned me on . Believe it or not this is my fist time using it .

He chuckled again , lifting himself up and placing a hand on my cheek . He licked his lips .

"You taste good princess"

His fingers made their way to my skirt as he unzipped it .

"It will be my pleasure to fill your tight little pussy up " I smiled looking at the priest as he slipped my skirt too .

I unzipped his pants once more and took out his still erect cock .

His hands replaced mine as he lined himself up with my entrance .

I buckled my hips again and pushed his tip in me making me moan loudly.

"So dirty princess. What a bad girl you are "he snickered to himself as he filled me up with his length.

Earning moans from both of us he slowly thirsted in and out .

His cock twitched as I buckled my hips more wanting a faster speed .

"Faster Father"

He increased his speed as the room filled with moans and groans coming from both of us .

His thirsts became sloppier as it was visible that he was about to orgasm.

"Princess-fuck-I'm about to" I nuzzled my head in his neck as I exhaled .

"Me too Father " I said as he fastened his speed again.

Our orgasms were in sync as I felt hot liquid fill me up .

I cried out in pleasure as I orgasamed too .

He rode it out as he pulled his cock out of me suddenly feeling empty .

"You are one hell of a woman " he said earning a small chuckle from me.

"And you are one hell of a priest" he grabbed my waist and kissed behind my ear .

"What's your name darling?" He said his breathing heavy .

"Y/n Father ." He then pressed his lips against mine and cupped my cheek .

"I'm Father Way darling but friends call me Gerard and the closer ones call me Gee but the special ones call me daddy"he smirked winking at me .

"Ok Gerard " I smiled kindly as he pecked my lips . "I want to call you mine darling , I want to be able to do this whenever I like "he put a piece of paper in my palm and closed it .

I put my clothes on and he put his gut in his boxers .

Swaying my hips I opened the door to the church.

"Bye Gerard , I'll call you "I said closing the door behind me , just for it to open again. Gerard pinned me to the inside of the wall and whispered .

"Who said you can leave ....at least not without a kiss goodbye." He kissed me again as I finally escaped from his grasp .

"Goodbye princess , I'll see you again ".

With that I headed home .

Hoi boiz , this is a priest gee one so I hope you enjoyed

[mychemicalficrecs]

hey, u got any good lesbian fics? can be a genderswap or irl girls, but no Gerard/mikey pls

Hi Nonny, here's some femslash for you!

Femslash

Didn't Get To Heaven, But You Made It Close by gala_apples, Ray/Mikey, 1k, Teen And Up Audiences. Ray's new to this thing, whatever it is. But she'll do it right for her girlfriend. Mikey deserves getting it right.

Ass-Kickin' Chick Music by ladyfoxxx, Frank/Gerard, 21k, Explicit. She's not someone's girlfriend. She's not anyone's anything. She's a fucking force. Gee doesn't know if she wants to be her or fuck her.

skipping school (what the bad kids do) by inkk, Frank/Gerard, 1k, Mature. L is for Lesbians. (In which class is skipped and a staff bathroom is occupied for questionable purposes.)

Rumors by orphan_account, Frank/Gerard, 2k, Mature. Frankie likes to mess with Gee during interviews and Gee hates it.

girls like girls by etselec, Mikey/Pete, 1k, General Audiences. A little Petekey genderbent ficlet based on the music video Girls Like Girls by Hayley Kiyoko

Cloud 9 by OwlHooots, Frank/Gerard, 3k, Mature. Gee realizes that she's been bit by the cheesiest love bug.

Alazarin by victoriachase (orphan_account), Frank/Gerard, 1k, Not Rated. i'm on holiday at the moment, and i was bored, and i really desperately wanted to write a girl!frerard fic and i wanted to write a fic where they met on a train, so this happened, i am sorry in advance

Freighthopping by CryptoHomoRocker, Bert/Gerard, 4k, Teen And Up Audiences. Gee should probably be afraid of Bert, but she's too busy falling in love with her.

the world's not waiting by mirrorchord, Patrick/Gerard, 1k, Teen And Up Audiences. Patrick jerks off, at some point.

the joy of rediscovering you by xofrnk, Jepha Howard/Mikey, 2k, Not Rated. She's just a beautiful, pale expanse of skin and ink and perfect. Sometimes Mikey just doesn't know what to do with her.

Alone Above A Raging Sea by something_safe, Bert/Gerard, 13k, Explicit. It's the Summer of Like and Gee Way and Roberta McCracken are still the demonic duo. Sometimes. When they've not fallen out. About nothing. Mikey fixes everything, like always.

Some Hearts Are Gallows (I'm Not Here For Hanging Around) by blindlyseeking (orphan_account), Frank/Gerard, 24k, Mature. My Chemical Romance. The name even had that vibe to it: we’re going to conquer the motherfucking universe. It was like The Beatles or Bikini Kill. It was a name that pinned you against a wall and said, “You better remember me.” And she is a part of it. Gina, Michelle, Rae, Maddy, and Frankie are just getting their new band off the ground. The girls are leaving Jersey for the first time on tour. But Frankie has been head over heels for Gina since day one and in a blur of autumn, Polaroids, house parties, whiskey sours, car rides, and cassette tapes 2002 becomes the year that change everything.

Cherry Bomb by my99centdreams, Courtney Love/Gerard, 2k, Teen And Up Audiences. Gina opens her eyes, the sudden silence in the room almost dizzying and catches sight of Courtney’s scandalized expression in the mirror. She laughs and cuts off the first piece – the tiny snip making something flip in her belly - glancing down to see it resting in the sink. She takes a deep breath; it’s cool, she’s got this. “Flip the fucking tape over, will you?”

Hand On Heart by dear_monday, Frank/Gerard, 2k, Explicit. Gee doesn't think it's at all fair of Frank to just waltz in one day with brand new candy-corn-colored ink splashed all over her fucking gorgeous guitarist hands, bouncing around like an overexcited puppy on crack and insisting on showing her new art to anyone who comes within a fifty foot radius of her. Gee hates her, she hates her, she hates her. And also wants to fuck her brains out, but mostly just hates her.

Make Me Tremble (Make Me Shake) by Mondegreen, Frank/Gerard, 3k, Explicit. It's like any other Friday night horror marathon in the basement, and then suddenly it's not. Or: the one where Frank and Gerard are high school lesbians, and then they make out.

Get to Kiss that Twisted Mouth by Nokomis, Lindsey/Gerard, 2k, Teen And Up Audiences. Lyn-Z doesn't even really realize that the lead singer of My Chemical Romance, dressed in a black suit and red tie, is a woman until halfway through their first opening set.

Raspberry Swirl by brooklinegirl, Frank/Gerard, 16k, Explicit. The time that the whole band woke up as girls was maybe the weirdest.

girls girls girls by Bexless, Frank/Gerard, 3k, Teen and Up Audiences, Explicit. “Would you still be into me if I were a guy?”.

Earth Girls Are Easy by Siobhan_Schuyler, Lindsey/Gerard, 1k, Mature. Her gaze travels around the room, over a hundred faces, and unerringly lands on Gee's, like some sort of inevitable tragedy. Something in her chest skips and squeezes, watching Gee smile, eyes on someone else, some other girl who'd rather talk about art than live it. Someone not worthy of Gee and her kind face and her expressive hands and the way she smokes too much and drinks too much and feels too much and cares about Lindsey much, much too little.

Soft by ladyfoxxx, Lindsey/Gerard, 4k, Explicit. Always-a-Girl!Gee and Lindsey - unapologetic girl on girl porn.

Songs About Hips and Hearts by sinuous_curve, Mikey/Pete, 4k, Teen And Up Audiences. So, the point is, sometimes Mikey forgets she's a girl and it's really not that big a deal because even when someone they're touring with suddenly realizes that she is female with actual functioning female parts, nothing happens. Because she is also a girl with one older brother whose scary as shit in his own particularly odd way and three additional older brothers by proxy who have no compunctions about killing to defend her honor.

Three Times a Lady by corruptedkid, Gabe/Mikey, Frank/Gerard, 2k, Teen And Up Audiences. Gee is useless when it comes to girls. Mikey is not.

Pretty Rad by rage_for_love, Frank/Gerard, 3k [WIP], Teen And Up Audiences. In which Frankie and Gee venture into the world of motherhood, which turns out to be a pretty rad experience.

the noise that keeps me awake by ashers_kiss, Party Poison/Gerard, 5k, Mature. Lady!Party Poison/Lady!Gee, five times they fought, and one time they kissed and made up.

you say cut the stem, i say let's see the flower by userl4me, Frank/Gerard, 1k, Teen And Up Audiences. When Gee's school forces her to cut off her hair as part of the dress code, Gee sees no other choice. That is, until her girlfriend comes to the rescue with black hair dye and kissing.

No. 1 Party Anthem by orphan_account, Frank/Gerard, 4k, Explicit. Gee doesn't like parties. She does, however, like a certain punk with terrible hair who doesn't know how to turn down a dare.

Missing Period by revengera, Frank/Gerard, 1k, Mature. Gee groaned when a knock sounded at her door for the thousandth time that day. She stood up from her seat where she was quite happily signing slips of papers to get sick teenagers permission to leave school. Gee opened the door, being faced by none other than Frankie, who had been complaining about period cramps all day and really, Gee was beginning to think that the period may be a super one by how many times she had shown up at Gee's office that day.

cigarettes and chocolate milk by recklessfishes (orphan_account), Frank/Gerard, Patrick/Pete, 5k [WIP], General Audiences. The media really loves playing the “Who’s in Pietra Wentz’s pants?” game, and Pete wants them all to leave her the fuck alone.

Give Them Blood, Blood, Blood by orphan_account, Frank/Gerard, 2k, Explicit. Gee's heat always syncs up with her period. Frankie's willing to help her anyway.

Life Goes On by orphan_account, Frank/Gerard, 2k, General Audiences. Frankie is an angel who is forced to guard the gates of heaven. She falls in love with a woman who passes through them. The two of them are doomed from the very start. Pete is a djinn who is punished for his sins by guarding the gates of hell and falling in love with everyone who passes through them.

Let me hear your voice by 3cheers4sweet_romance, Frank/Gerard, 6k, Teen And Up Audiences. "The encounter was brief if you measure it in minutes, but it was long enough to make a deep impression on Frankie. She wanted to hear Gee's singing voice again and she wouldn't rest until she'd make her sing again." In this fic, Gee sings random ABBA songs and Frankie tries, with various degrees of success, to convince her to audition for the position of lead singer in a newly formed band.

Record Setter by orphan_account, Frank/Gerard, 2k, Explicit. "Frankie, y-you made me cum like-" she cut herself off with a breathy moan, "Fuck, like? Five times already? It hurts."

i'll make you mine (time after time) by inkk, Frank/Gerard, 1k, Mature. S is for Stargazing. (In which Gee is cuddly, Frank is a dork and they have super romantic sex in a field.)

Barely visible stars by giraffewrites, Lindsey/Gerard, 4k, Teen And Up Audiences. Gee had preferred it when she wasn't out to her school. The days when she could just be herself and not have abuse shouted at her as she walked the halls. The days when she wasn't scared of doing such mundane tasks such as catching the bus. And then Lindsey comes along, and maybe everything isn't completely shit for once. Maybe.

[therainroguefanfiction]

⁂ Get Out (William Beckett)

Genre: Angst, Vampire AU, Supernatural

Word Count: 866

Pairing: Reader, William

World: Fall Out Boy Vampire AU

Song Lyrics: “A Little Less Sixteen Candles…” by Fall Out Boy

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

“He’s coming and she knows it. Even though she knows why. Footsteps in the hallway. Girl you haven’t got time. You gotta get out. Go far away.”

You knew about the mess with the vampires in the city of Chicago. You knew all about the Dandies and the other covens. You knew about the hunters and you knew about how Pete Wentz had been turned into a vampire, though you didn’t know why. You hadn’t stuck around long enough to find out.

Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. Allow me to start over.

You used to be a vampire hunter, solely because of your older brother, Peter Wentz, forced you into it. He had said it was his way of ‘looking after you’, but the two of you did not get along often and were always at each others’ throats. Because of that, you’ve almost been killed several times because you were too busy screaming at each other and didn’t see the approaching vampires. That’s also how Pete had gotten bitten and turned.

You and Pete were arguing, as usual, ignoring the mass of fighting that surrounded you. He was angry because you refused to take a stake. You looked away for just one second and when you looked up again, William Beckett, leader of the Dandies, was standing behind Pete, licking his lips. Before you could call out to him, William had leaned down and sunk his teeth into Pete’s neck. He didn’t drain him, though.

No, he wanted Pete to become the monster he had been fighting for so long.

By the time Patrick and the others made it over, William was already gone. Of course, with Pete screaming in agony, they had no choice but to retreat. And retreat they did.

After Pete had finished his transformation, he was livid. The first thing he did was get in your face, pinning the blame solely on you, saying that if you had just listened to him, none of this would have happened. At first, your eyes had widened in disbelief and pain, but that pain quickly melted into anger. That day, when the sun had fully risen, you packed your things and left the hideout, leaving the city and your so-called brother behind.

You never looked back.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

You had lost count of how many days had passed since you left and you didn’t care to count them. You thought of Patrick and Andy and Joe every day and hoped that they were okay, but you refused to go back. You refused to contact them. You honestly didn’t want to think about Pete or William Beckett or vampires in general; you had had enough of that for three lifetimes.

But something was pricking at the back of your mind and you didn’t like it.

For about a week now, your nerves had been on end. You had the feeling that something – something very bad – was going to happen. You didn’t know if it was just the instinct you had worked up after dealing with vampires for so long or if it was legit, but it was killing you. You expected something to happen, but the when, where, or what was up in the air. Something told you it had to do with William Becket, but you really did not want to believe that. There was only so much someone could handle of that man…

You were sitting in your apartment watching TV when you felt it.

Dark eyes widened and your heart picked up speed, breathing growing ragged. He was there. William-fucking-Beckett was there. He was coming for you and you knew it. You bolted off the couch, trying to keep your breathing and heart rate under control. You knew this was going to happen but that did little to calm your nerves.

You were strong and had killed your fair share of vampires in the past, but this was William Beckett, one of the strongest vampires ever created. You didn’t stand a chance. Not alone, anyway.

You scrambled around the apartment, grabbing your knives and throwing them into your bag along with the clothes you carelessly shoved in. You had to get out of there.

William’s footsteps echoed through the hall and it felt as if time slowed. You couldn’t hear anything but his footsteps drawing closer and the pounding of your own heart.

You didn’t have any more time left. You had to get out, get out, and go far, far away.

The footsteps stopped in front of your door and you could see his shadow through the small crack separating the wood from the floor.

With a gulp, you threw the window up just as the door slammed open, bouncing against the wall.

Without a glance behind you, without thinking about how stupid it was to get an apartment on the second floor, you jumped out the window, landing on your feet before falling to your knees. A groan passed your lips as you forced yourself up.

The last thing you saw before taking off down the road was William Beckett standing at the window, staring down at you with a blank expression.

The hunt had only just begun.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

[shark-myths]

G.I.N.A.S.F.S.

this song. THIS SONG. an infinity-era song from 2007, Gay Is Not A Synonym for Shitty is a tangled-up mess of peteashleepatrick, guilt and longing and fallinginlove all worked over into knots and poetry.

in the tryst theory reckoning, i think this song is about loving patrick in a way that Isn’t Allowed, a reminiscence on when things were simple and they could just fool around in the van and never really talk about who they were or what it meant, as long as they could keep having it, and about pete’s own confused relationship to queerness (and his own sexual orientation) during this time.

so let’s dig in!

I've loved everything about you that hurts, so Let me see your moves Let me see your moves Lips pressed this close to mine True Blue

But the prince of any failing empire knows that Everybody wants, everybody wants To drive on through the night If it's a drive back home

this reads and plays like a break-up song right at the time when pete’s entering an exciting new relationship, an exciting time of his life where he’s moving out to LA, his band reaching previously unimagined heights of widespread commercial success, a million business endeavors with his name and face on them: this is the time of his life when pete wentz is finally Making Good, living up to his own potential, being a good boy and following the rules and making a serious bid at adulthood. at living happily ever after. at living at all. this is pete building a future for himself instead of looking for the nearest exit ramp for death. this is a time of new beginnings and hope and the rest of your life--so why is he writing a break-up song?

he’s writing it to himself, maybe. he’s writing it to jeanae. he’s writing it to patrick.

True Blue: not parlor trick magic. True Blue is code for Patrick. Patrick is who he wants to drive back home to. LA is not like chicago. and some princes don’t grow up to be kings.

Things aren't the same anymore Some nights, they get so bad You almost pick up the phone

(suggesting that whoever he’s singing about, he’s far away from now, and not reaching out to--even though their voice used to be a daily miracle)

Trade baby blues for wide eyed browns I sleep with your old shirts And walk through this house in your shoes You know it's strange It's a strange way of saying That I know I'm supposed to love you I'm supposed to love you

whose eyes is he singing about? the cover story--the plausible deniability--could be about swapping jeanae’s gaze for ashlee’s. but, and this won’t surprise you, i like the reading best if we’re talking about patrick. are ashlee’s eyes even blue? they’re a slate green type color--striking, sure, but they don’t scream baby blue. whereas patrick rocks these babies (below), which he described once on twitter as “blue with a little ring of yellow around the pupil so they look a little green.” are they baby blues? you decide. (maybe pete’s been singing to joe this whole time?? look at those fucking peepers!)

(aside--is pete talking about new partners with different eye colors, or imploring the listener to trade their blue eyes for his brown ones, to take his perspective and see it from his side? this song is full of clever twists)

this is one of the first times pete’s lived without patrick in years. not in the same apartment, not down the hall, not even on the same side of the continent. so he sleeps in patrick’s old shirts--there’s plenty of documentation of shirt-swapping in the early days of our boys--and walks through the house (probably in ashlee’s uggs, let’s be real, but patrick had quite the sneaker collection in 07 too, as seen on his apartment tour mtv feature) and thinks, I’m supposed to love you.

i love this line so much because it works on two amazing and painful levels. pete can be taken as saying:

I am obligated or meant to love you due to my promise / the expectations of others / the heterosexual label i tentatively offer as describing me, OR

you are the one I am fated to love. we are meant to be together like destiny

or, even more likely--he’s saying both.

I've already given up on myself twice Third time is the charm, third time is the charm Threw caution to the wind But, I've got a lousy arm

And I've traced your shadows on the wall Now I kiss them whenever I'm down Whenever I'm down Figured on not figuring myself out

WHAT ARE THE TWO TIMES PETE HAS GIVEN UP ON HIMSELF? it could be a straightforward reading--the Best Buy Incident and any other peak!depression moments. but i think pete has failed himself in subtle, important ways throughout his life. i wonder if pete is giving up on himself romantically. if he’s giving up on his ability to, as he says, figure himself out--understand his sexual orientation--ever be with patrick in the way he wants to be, because he can’t / won’t figure out how he wants to be. comp het and gendered body dysmorphia are strong in this one. the media has such a field day of making him gay, he’s tangled up in his own crossfire of hero--icon--punching bag. i imagine pete at this age like i spent the first 24 or so years of my life: repeating like a rosary, i wish i was gay, i wish i was gay, i wish i was gay. [girls] are so pretty, i like them so much. why can’t i just be gay so i can be with them?

but he’s got a lousy arm. he keeps trying to declare himself to patrick--we have albums worth of it, at this point, not to mention interviews and what happens onstage during this era--and he keeps falling short. his message gets lost, or worse, considered unworthy. ignored.

i’ve traced your shadows on the wall hearkens back to watching you two from the closet, doesn’t it? it’s all about imagining yourself with someone you can’t have and can’t even understand if you want. he spent so long obsessing over every bright line of patrick’s body, now he traces them from memory on the walls of his always-too-empty home, kisses patrick in his mind and doesn’t ask himself why, because he’s terrified of the answer. because he’s given up on the answer. because ashlee is the love of his life, he’s known it since he first met her, and he’s supposed to be with her. because he’s giving up on himself. because things aren’t the same anymore. he’s a different man in a different city living a different life.

Born under a bad sign, you saved my life That night on the roof of your hotel "Cross my heart and hope to die Splintered from the headboard in my eye" Photo-proofed kisses I remembered so well 

Pete’s a gemini, Patrick’s a taurus. either of those are bad signs, depending on who you ask. but the point of the line, i think, is the curse pete always thinks of himself / writes of himself as living under. this whole verse evokes curses and promises and love everlasting.

and: what is a photo-proofed kiss? it’s a hidden one. it’s a one they’ve made sure no one can ever see, or one that happens so VERY publicly they can deny it.

IN SUMMARY, this is a peterick af song. this is a song about pete grappling with his own relationship to the word gay and his frustrated confusion about his own sexuality. you can see his proposal to ashlee taking shape in it, clear as you can see his choking-thick unyielding love for the man he thinks he’s lost, thinks he’s never held at all. IN SUMMARY, oh god my feelings, oh god this song

[coldhands-sunkeneyes]

Btw I comb the crowd and pick you out my mouth moves too fast for you to figure it out it starts eyes closed to fingers crossed to I swear I say to I swear I say to hands between legs to whatever it takes to drinks at the club to the bar to the keys to your car to hotel stairs to the emergency exit door no to the love I left my conscience pressed between the pages of the Bible in the drawer what did it ever do for me I say it never calls me when I’m down love never wanted me but I took it anyway put your ear to the speaker and choose love or sympathy but never both love never wanted me I hoped you choked and crashed your car hey tear catcher thats all that you are and ever were from the start I swear I say I swear I say to hands between legs to whatever it takes to drinks at the club to the bar to the keys to your car to hotel stairs to the emergency exit door no to the love I left my conscience pressed between the pages of the Bible in the drawer what did it ever do for me I say it never calls me when I’m down love never wanted me but I took it anyway put your ear to the speaker and choose love or sympathy but never both to the love I left my conscience pressed through the keyholes I watched you dress kiss and tell loose lips sink ships to the love I left my conscience pressed through the keyholes I watched you dress kiss and tell loose lips sink ships to the love I left my conscience pressed to the love I left my conscience pressed to the love I left my conscience pressed between the Bible in the drawer what did it ever do for me I say

[pantstomatch]

The only word Mike can think of to describe the tiny, big-eyed thing peering over the counter at him is moppet, and all the blame for that can definitely be laid at Bill’s feet. She’s three feet nothing with curly dark hair all over the place, a snub nose, freckles and a grin nearly the size of her entire face.

She grips the edge of the front counter with small fingers, sparkly purple nail polish chipped and ragged, and says, “I need to play the accordion.”

“Oh,” Mike says, folding his arms so he can lean onto his elbows. “You need to?”

A harried voice somewhere to the left says, “Al. Al, ask, please.”

Mike looks up at him, one eyebrow quirked in amusement, and tries not to show any surprise on his face over the fact that Kevin fucking Jonas is standing there, staring at him earnestly.

“Sorry,” Jonas says. “She’s got manners, I swear.”

“Please,” Al says, demanding Mike’s attention again.

Mike has trouble saying no to small children and animals. It’s a weakness he can’t hide very well. The problem is that he runs a music shop, and music shops tend to have lots of nosy witnesses.  Mike sighs, pretends to be put-upon, and says, “I suppose I can teach you the accordion.”

Al thrusts a tiny fist in the air and shouts, “Yes!”

Never in Mike’s life has he seen anyone this enthusiastic about learning the accordion. He’s freaking charmed.

He looks at Jonas again and says, “So there’s paperwork.”

Jonas bobs his head. “Sure, sure. I can, um. Someone can bring her over after school, any day but Thursdays.”

Mike checks the giant wall calendar Bill insists on. It’s gratifying filled. “I can do Tuesdays at 4, if that works.”

Jonas says, “Yes, yeah,” on a relieved puff of air.

Mike narrows his eyes at Al. “You’re a handful, aren’t you?”

Her grin shows off at least two lost teeth. “Uncle Nick says I’m pre-co-cious.”

“Right.” Uncle Nick. Nick Jonas. Mike might’ve been star struck if he was a) a pre-teen, or b) not friends with Pete Wentz. He says, “Okay to start tomorrow?” to Jonas.

He has close-cropped hair that curls on the top, ruddy cheeks and a goofy smile that Mike tries very hard not to find attractive. “Please.”

Fuck.

Later, Bill says, “He’s head administrator of the Bush’s Baked Beans fan forum,” sounding absolutely delighted.

“He’s got two kids and a wife,” Mike says, in the middle of counting out receipts.

“Nah-uh, my friend.” Bill spins the laptop he’s bent over around and shoves it toward Mike’s face. “He’s got two kids, three yappy dogs and an ex-wife.”

Mike squints at the screen. “Separated.”

Bill looks triumphant. “And he’s head administrator of Bush Brotherhood. It sounds like a cult.”

They should be closing up, but instead he's letting Bill google Kevin Jonas and trying to act pissed about it.

Jonas has grown into his hair and his cheeks and Mike kind of wants to make him blush. Separated isn't bad. He can work with that.

The bell over the shop door dings because Bill always forgets to lock it when he flips the sign—but people should still read the fucking sign—and Mike opens his mouth to scare whoever it is off, then shuts it with an audible click of his teeth. Huh.

Bill gasps.

Kevin Jonas shuffles his feet and says, “So, uh, my therapist says I should take more chances.”

Bill gasps again, this time with a hand pressed to his chest.

Mike kicks him in the shin and then skirts the counter to lean against the other side, crossing his arms over his chest.  “Yeah?” Mike can be smooth. It happens.

Kevin makes a face, ducks his head and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. The longer dark curls on top of his head spill over his forehead.

There’s a thump on the front display window, and then what looks like Joe Jonas squishing his face up against the glass. His voice is muffled on, “Kevin! I’m hunnnnngry,” like a zombie or a three year old.

Bill says, “This is wonderful.”

Mike is still not one hundred percent sure what’s going on here, but he says, “What kind of chances are you planning on taking here? You need to learn the accordion too?”

“Uh.” He jumps a little when Joe bangs on the window with a fist—if he breaks that, Mike’s gonna sue—and then Kevin blurts out, “Dinner!”

Mike knows what he means, but also thinks this entire situation is hilarious.

Joe’s mouth is open, leaving the pane smeared and fogged from his breath. He’s going to get some kind of disease, Mike isn’t sure they’ve ever even washed those windows since they bought the place four years ago.

Mike hooks a thumb toward him and says, “Kind of think that’s your brother’s point.”

“No! I mean.” Kevin deflates on a sigh. “This was easier in my head.”

“Oh, give the poor dude a break, Carden,” Bill says, snapping his laptop shut and getting to his feet. He sweeps a bow and says, “Michael would be delighted.”

Kevin’s eyes light up. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks at Mike like a hopeful puppy.

“Dinner,” Mike says. Bill’s right, it’s not like Mike’s going to say no.

Kevin fucking beams, Mike wants to rub his thumbs all over his apple cheeks. He’s in so much trouble.

“Don’t worry,” Kevin says, as Joe drags himself sideways, glass screeching, moaning, ‘Foooooood.’ “Joe’s not invited.”

[robinrunsfiction]

But It’s Better If You Do

Pairing: Brendon Urie x Female Reader Rating: Teen Requested By: @thatsonezesty13​ Word Count: ~1,900 Author’s Note: So I was sent a link to this very sexy version of But It’s Better If You Do by @thatsonezesty13 with the request for Brendon to be singing it in the reader’s ear with a little sauciness and some angst, and I hope I hit just enough of each for ya! Also please please listen to the song while reading where I dropped in the lyrics. It just enhances the whole thing. Enjoy!

You arrived at the club that had been reserved for the birthday celebration of the one and only Pete Wentz. You had been friends with him for years, and his birthday was always a big deal, this year being no exception. This year was a 1920’s masquerade theme party and you were more than happy to distract yourself from real life for a while.

When you were let into the club, it was decked out in fabulous décor that would make Gatsby himself jealous. You scanned the room and saw who you figured were the usual suspects behind masks, but headed to the bar for a refreshment first

While waiting for the bartender, you felt eyes on you and glanced down the bar. There he was, the only person Pete had said wasn’t gonna be able to make the party, which is what guaranteed you would be there.

Brendon.

Brendon and you had quite a bit of a history to say the least. You had hooked up for a while, but then you realized he had feelings for you, and you weren’t sure, so he dated someone else. Then you were jealous and dated someone else, and he was jealous too. And suddenly he had dumped his girlfriend and you were in his bed again.

But then you realized that your relationship wasn’t really a relationship and you didn’t know how to talk to Brendon about the real stuff like how you were starting to fall hard for him, and so you distanced yourself and he got mad, but he had other people he was talking to, so you didn’t think it mattered, even though you were still jealous of everyone else he was seeing. The last time you saw each other it was a drunken shouting match that ended with you in tears in the bathroom venting to Megan about how stupid Brendon was and that you were done with him forever.

But now he’s here tonight.

You searched the room for Megan, Andy, Patrick, Spencer, anyone reasonable that would help you keep your head on straight because in that moment when you saw him, your heart was in your throat and a blush crept over you and you wanted nothing more than to climb in his lap and make out with him, and then to slap him in his gorgeous face. Or maybe the other way around. Either way, those two things would happen if he came near you, you were certain.

The bartender finally returned with your drink and you made your way to an empty table not far from the dancefloor. You started listening to the music and realized that the 1920’s sounding music was actually a remix of a current song you had heard on your way over. You were impressed by Pete’s level of detail to the theme of the party.

Other partygoers were dressed to the nines and absolutely lighting up the dance floor. You enjoyed the people watching, even though you had no idea who most of the people were. The masks didn’t help alleviate any of your confusion. You finally pulled your mask on from where it was resting around your neck and felt better about being hidden from Brendon.

Or so you thought.

Someone sat down at the chair right next to you and you turned to see who it was. When you turned, of course you found Brendon was sitting there with a smirk that sent a jolt straight through you.

“I was hoping were gonna be here tonight,” he said smoothly.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here tonight,” you replied curtly.

“Listen (YN), I’m sorry for how things ended the last time we saw each other-” he said leaning in so he wasn’t shouting.

“I can barely even remember it anymore,” you lied, cutting his apology short.

He shrugged as he sat back and took a sip of his drink. You sat awkwardly in silence. You were mad at how good he looked. You were mad that he actually apologized. You were mad that part of you wanted to let him really make it up to you, and part of you was mad that you never wanted him to touch you again.

Suddenly a familiar tune started. You knitted your eyebrows together and glanced back at Brendon, who raised his eyebrows and smirked again. In a huff, you got up and made you way to the edge of the dancefloor just to create some space between you and that smirk.

Now I'm of consenting age To be forgetting you in a cabaret somewhere Downtown where a burlesque queen May even ask my name As she sheds her skin on stage I'm seated and sweating to a dance song On the club's P.A The strip joint veteran sits two away Smirking between dignified sips of his dignified Peach and lime daiquiri

This wasn’t just a remix, Brendon had redone the song with new vocals. Seductive vocals. Sexy new vocals that reminded you of so many times you had him alone. And it was making you feel things all over again. And Pete knew that this would happen, and he lied when he said Brendon wouldn’t be here. If you had bothered to get him a present you would be taking it back.

Then someone was behind you, a hand on your waist. You knew who it was without him saying a word. But then you felt his lips by your ear.

And isn't this exactly where you'd like me I'm exactly where you'd like me, you know Praying for love in a lap dance and paying in naivety

You turn to face him, pulling down your mask in the process. You wanted to tell him to leave you alone, that you weren’t ever going to be anything.

“And isn't this exactly where you'd like me, I'm exactly where you'd like me, you know,” he said low and seductive, but the look in his eyes gave him away. There was a touch of sadness, of longing, of genuine caring at how you would react.

Well I'm afraid that I Well, I may have faked it and I wouldn't be caught dead dead dead dead in this place

You couldn’t keep pretending like you didn’t care. If you were wearing even a fraction of your emotions on your face, the way he was, then he already knew.

Brendon's grip on your waist grew tighter and he gently brushed your cheek with his fingertips. “And isn't this exactly where you'd like me, I'm exactly where you'd like me, you know,” he repeated.

You nodded, at a loss for words and reasonable thought. If any of your trusty, level headed friends were there and witnessing this moment, they were letting it happen and you were glad for it.

And then your lips were crashing against his. Brendon's hands running up and down your sides, the beadwork on your dress tickling his palms. You pressed your whole body against his and he pulled you closer somehow.

You wrap your arms around his neck and his hands slide from your sides to your ass and you’re groaning into your kiss. This feels right, this is where you belong.

Brendon breaks the kiss and glances around. No one is paying any attention to you and him so he grabs your hand and pulls you toward the back of the club.

There's a small changing room for performers, but since it’s just a DJ tonight, there's no one using the room. No one until you follow behind Brendon into the dark small space, illuminated only by the faint red glow of the exit sign above the door.

Your lips are reconnecting and you're sliding Brendon's jacket off his shoulders. Brendon's hands are all over you; in your hair, on your waist, on your ass, on your chest. Your back is against a wall and you have one leg wrapping around Brendon as he presses kisses against your neck. You let your head roll to the side, not caring what kinds of marks he’s leaving.

“Bren,” you whisper hoarsely.

“Hmm,” he murmurs back.

“We should, ya know, before someone else comes back here,” you moan.

Brendon stops and looks at you in the dim light. “Are you sure?”

“Yea.”

“I thought you never wanted to see me again.”

“You wanna talk about this now? Really?” You snapped, getting exasperated.

“No.”

“Thought so.”

A while later you were slinking out of the dressing room door, pulling down the hem of your flapper dress. You hurried over to the women's restroom and examined yourself in the mirror. Yep, you look thoroughly and freshly fucked.

You grabbed a Kleenex and wiped away your smeared lipstick. You were admiring the marks Brendon left across your neck when the door burst open and Megan came in.

“Oh, that explains it.”

“What?”

“Why Brendon is waiting just outside the door looking like he's had the most fun of anyone at this party,” she said with a knowing smirk.

You rolled your eyes and started to pull the pins out of your hair, letting the style you worked so hard at fall down to cover your neck.

“I thought you were done with him, (YN).”

“I did too. But he's like some kind of drug. I can’t stay mad, he's just too…”

“Sexy?”

“Exactly. I mean I’m sure we'll crash and burn again, but at least I’m having fun.”

“What if, and hear me out, you both stopped playing games and start telling each other how you really, deep down, feel?” Megan asked, slightly exasperated.

You turned back to the mirror. Something this time felt different. Maybe she was right and you had been playing games long enough. Maybe it was time to act like an adult and be honest. You nodded, more at yourself than to Megan and exited the bathroom.

Brendon was still waiting outside the door like Megan said he was. He pushed himself off the wall when he saw you.

“Hey, can we talk now?”

“Yea,” you agreed.

“I'm sorry for the things I said last time. I was drunk and I know it doesn’t excuse it, but I didn’t mean the nasty things I said.”

“I know, and I wasn’t any better. I let myself get worked up and jealous and made things worse in my head. I really care about you Brendon.”

“I haven't been able to think about anyone but you for the longest time. I want something real (YN).”

You nodded. “Me too. There's a reason I keep coming back to you.”

“And it isn't just all this,” he said gesturing up and down his body with a goofy grin. You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but laugh. “Let’s give this a real shot, (YN).”

“No seeing anyone on the side, no jealousy, no games?”

“None of it.”

You nodded in agreement and Brendon turned and you found yourself between him and the wall again, his lips on yours, but much more tenderly than before.

“And isn't this exactly where you'd like me, I'm exactly where you'd like me, you know,” you murmured when he pulled back.

“Exactly where I want you.”

Masterlist

[chasezly]

don’t mind me, just dropping off some Bi Pete evidence

"I'm gay above the belt" gay is not a synonym for shitty

Tweets bi pete: 

watching FOB live in phoenix I realize I am Patrick's annoying girlfriend onstage always hugging on him and what no. I'm the worst.

happy birthday patrick. still glad i lost my virginity to you.

Mikey: my @petewentz poster fell off my wall onto my face when i was sleeping last night. lolol.

Pete: @mikeyway that wasn't a poster ;)

things i found in articles: 

"I’d love to share clothes with a dude and have all those benefits" (talking about "the closest he's ever gotten to boy-on-boy action")

"...Pete Wentz announced on the cover of OUT magazine in 2008 “Yeah, I am a fag!” He seemed to be drumming up some notoriety for himself by admitting that he had made out with guys and had a crush on John Mayer."

“I want every LGBTQ person to know that our ideas are mainstream. We have stories to tell and people will fucking listen,” the songwriter said before performing it live at a GLAAD event. Note how he uses "our" and "we" as if he's one of them.

Fall Out Boy also brought up gay rights in the music video for “Uma Thurman” where a tank steamrolls a pickup truck bearing the words “Article 1, Section 36.03,” Alabama’s constitutional “Sanctity of Marriage” law blocking same-sex marriage. (i love how alabama is cool about incest or whatever but not same-sex marriage its kinda like that one spiderman meme)

Lyrics: 

"mon chéri" is pretty fucking masculine. "We're always sleeping in and sleeping for the wrong team" To be noted: on the Genius annotation for this lyric it is stated (In the original demo of the song instead of “wishing to be the friction in your jeans,” the line is “wishing to be the friction in his jeans.” ) @alyson412 points out (“Sleeping for the wrong team” is like sleeping with the same gender; with “Watching you two from the closet” it’s not literally in a closet. It’s hiding your sexuality from others" )

"And all the lovers with no time for me, and all of the mothers raise their babies to stay away from me" could be implying homophobia. curiously though, he chose to use the word 'lover' and not 'girl'. If you look closely, though he may use female stereotypes, Pete chooses to mostly use gender-neutral pronouns.

"No it’s nothing wrong with me, the kids are all wrong..." Implies that it's not he himself who's wrong for being bi, but society.

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

A Hotel in New York City - Pete Wentz x Reader

Request: vampire Pete Wentz x female reader? With angst and fluff?

Warnings: Supernatural Stuff (?)

Word count: 2 150

When you had planned your backpack trip through the US, you probably should have searched for affordable hotels in New York City. NYC was the last stop on your tour and you had spent three nights here already but you wanted to spend the last night in Manhattan, going out or something. But now you were wandering through the busy streets while the night reached its dark fingers into the ravines between the sky scrapers and you still did not know where to stay the night. You honestly considered going to one of the 24h cafés which you had seen a few blocks down, when suddenly your eyes caught sight of an old neon sign, which announced proudly “The Night Palace”. For a moment you wondered if this was some sort of strip club or brothel, but you came to the conclusion that it was unlikely since the sign would look in better shape, and also you could always leave if it turned out to be anything but a hotel. You took a deep breath and pushed open the wide, wooden door.

It was different than what you had expected. You had imagined an old wooden desk with an even older, grey haired lady who would ask you what you wanted in a raspy and rude voice. But instead it felt like you had just travelled in time back to the 1920s. The hall you entered was narrow but designed in a way that feigned a great room. There were balustrades on the walls at the heights of the second, third and fourth floor. The walls were mostly decorated with black wood and golden edges; the floor was of thick, red carped that muffled your steps as you approached the receptionist’s desk. When you spied over the top of the desk, you saw a man, mid-thirties with long brown hair and beard sit behind the counter.

“Excuse me?” Your voice sounded strangely lost in this place. “I would like to ask how much a room is for one night.”

The man looked up from the book he had been reading. He wore a name tag, telling you he was called Marcus. His eyes scanned your features carefully before he sighed and rolled his eyes at you. But he answered. “50 bucks a night for you.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Fifty dollars was an okay price, pretty okay to be honest. But he made it sound like the price was defined by the guest. But that was a problem for another day. Right now you were tired and wanted a bed. Forget the going out. You would go grab some Chinese or something and go to bed.

“I’d like the room please,” you told Marcus.

He extended the hand and it took you a moment to realize he was asking for the money. Quickly you placed a fifty dollar bill in his hand and he handed you a key with the number thirteen. You were about to ask on which floor the room was, when Marcus snapped his fingers and a short, young man walked towards you hurriedly. He wore a black hotel porter uniform with a red collar, a white shirt and a black bow tie. He had short, dark brown hair and brown eyes. His skin seemed unhealthily pale and his glance at you was short. Quickly he picked up your backpack, which you had put down to take out your money, and motioned you to follow him. He led you up a tall staircase to the third floor, down several dark corridors before he finally stopped in front of a door with the number 13 on it. No way in hell you would have found it without help.

The man was about to turn away, when you spoke up. “Excuse me? Do you know a good place to eat around here?”

The hotel porter turned around, looking puzzled for a moment. “There’s a good diner around the corner,” he answered.

“Thank you,” you quickly read the name on his jacket, “Pete.”

He nodded and turned around. He was gone faster than you had thought possible.

Your room was dark and the lamp on the ceiling only shed dim, yellow light. But the bed seemed freshly made and you had your own bathroom.

You quickly showered, put on fresh clothes and headed out for dinner.

When you returned to the hotel, it was long dark outside. The chair behind the receptionist’s desk was empty and Pete was nowhere in sight either. You climbed up the stairs to the third floor, hoping you would find your room easily. You did not. You had been wondering around for almost ten minutes and still not found your room, when you finally spotted someone on the end of the corridor.

You recognized a bearded man and when you approached him, you realized it was Marcus. But something was weird. He just seemed to be standing around, and when you got closer, you saw he was shaking. His shaking got more and more violent and suddenly he fell to the floor. You were about to run to him, when he jumped up again, he legs and arms growing long and thin, his head stretched into a weird shape and his yells echoed through the corridors.

You let out a scream and stumbled backwards. In terror you watched how Marcus’s clothes teared and fell to the floor and hair spread all over his naked body. A second later a gigantic wolf with weirdly human features stood in front of you. You were still walking backwards, hoping the monster would not see you. You knees felt weak and your heart was beating faster and faster. Without warning, the monster shot around and faced you. Glowing orange eyes fixated on you and slowly it started strolling over to you. It growled, showing its teeth and you froze. Suddenly you remembered the three possibilities a human had when facing a strong opponent. Fight, if the opponent is as strong as you or weaker. Flight, if you would lose a fight. Freeze, if the opponent is so strong, they would catch up to you. And you froze. There was nothing you could do. No matter how hard you wanted to run, you could not move. You only hoped, the monster would not see or smell you. But it came closer and closer.

It was only a meter away, when suddenly a hand was placed on your shoulder and yanked you backwards. A figure jumped in front of you, hissing at the monster, which growled back. Then the figured turned around, grabbed your arm and started running. Suddenly you were able to move again. You followed you savior, hearing the breathing and loud tapping of paws with claws behind you. The person still had their hand tightly wrapped around your arm and pulled you down corridor after corridor. The monster was still close behind you. Suddenly there was a loud ringing, then a howl which sounded like a wounded dog. The monster behind you got slower but the figure pulled you down one more corridor, before stopping in front of a door and pushing you inside.

You tumbled into a dark room, out of breath and scared out of your mind. A bright light on the ceiling was turned on and you recognized Pete, who slammed the door shut behind him.

“What was that?” You shouted, pointing at the door.

“Calm down.” Peter slowly walked over to you, his hands raised as if approaching a wounded animal. “That was just Marcus.”

“He turned into a fucking monster!” you were still shouting and probably started to hyperventilate.

“He’s just a werewolf,” Peter explained patiently.

“A werewolf! A werewolf! A werewolf? Are you fucking with me? What kind of drugs did you put me on?”

“No drugs, just the usual full moon procedure.” Peter’s voice was calm as if he explained to you that water was wet.

“Oh yeah, because that’s a thi- what are those?” Suddenly you had seen two long, pointy teeth, fangs, reach out of Peter’s mouth. You pointed at his face and confused he raised his hands to his mouth.

“Oh, sorry. How rude of me.”

You watched as the teeth shrunk and disappeared until he looked like a normal human being. But he was not, was he?

“What are you,” you asked your voice shaky.

“A vampire, what are you?” Pete answered.

“What do you mean, what am I? I am a fucking human, like you and Marcus should be but instead you’re like some comic book monsters that live in a hotel in New fucking York!”

Pete stared at you for a moment before he chuckled. “Wow, rude,” he commented.

Finally you calmed down enough to look around. The room was bigger than yours and pictures were put up on the walls. Your eyes scanned them, which probably was a bad idea, because they were pictures of werewolves, fairies, two dancing skeletons and other mythological creatures. You sunk down on the bed that stood in the middle of the room and buried your face in your hands.

“Is this real,” you whispered between your fingers.

You felt the mattress dip under the weight of Pete who sat down next to you, close enough to comfort you but far away enough for you not to freak out.

“I’m afraid it is.”

He gave you time to collect your thoughts. After a while you spoke again.

“Why did you think I was a… creature, too?”

Pete took a deep breath. “Because, and I hate to break this to you, only ‘creatures’ as you call us, can find this hotel.”

You bit your lower lip. “So what does that mean?” You knew what this meant but you were too scared to believe your own mind.

“That you’re one of us,” Pete answered.

~*~

You spent the rest of the night in what turned out to be Pete’s room. He patiently answered all of your questions. How old was he? 407. Were there many magical creatures out there? Yes. Did he drink blood? Yes, but only once a month. Why did he not bite you? Because he had his monthly meal just a few days ago. Would he die in the sun? No, that was a myth. Was the Loch Ness Monster real? No, he died three centuries ago. Where did he come from, Pete? From Illinois. Did he live in the hotel? Yes. When was the last time he left? 50 years ago, he was bound to the place by a curse.

The more you talked to Pete, the more you liked him. Sure you were terribly confused by all the supernatural crap, but Pete was cute and funny and patient and if he had not been a vampire, you probably would have tried to hook up with him. Not that you were being racist or whatever the word was, you were just not sure if that was a thing vampires did.

When the night turned into morning, Pete offered to bring you back to your room. You agreed and he helped you pack your things. As much as you liked Pete, you really wanted to leave this place as fast as possible but he had explained that the corridors would only be safe after sunrise.

He accompanied you down into the hall. Marcus sat behind the counter and nodded at the two of you. He had black circles under his eyes and his hair was all messed up, but he looked human.

Pete opened the door for you. With a relieved sigh you stepped outside in the light of the early morning.

“I really enjoyed tonight,” Pete confessed to you.

“I did too. In a macabre way,” you admitted, making both of you smile.

“Are you gonna come back?” Pete looked up at you shyly, a ray of sunlight hitting his face, making him look like an angel.

“I don’t know,” you answered, biting your lip. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” Pete blurted out, looking embarrassed at that.

“Then I’ll come back. One day I’ll come visit you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I’m never gonna forget you,” Pete whispered and you could have sworn a hint of pink appeared on his cheeks.

“I’m never gonna forget you either. How could I?” You laughed quietly.

Pete looked up at you again, quickly leaning forward and pressing his lips against yours. They were soft and surprisingly warm, considering he was a vampire. You kissed back and he smiled into the kiss pulling back.

“See you,” he said sadly.

“See you,” you responded and waved at him.

Then you turned away into the street. You remembered what Pete had told you. Only magical creatures could find the hotel. You were one of them. But what were you? These thoughts spinning through your head, you started to walk down the streets, seeing the world in a new light.

[elenamatisstuff]

Devil! Patrick and Black Parade!Gerard Geetrick AU

“There seems to be a shortage of souls.” Patrick mumbled to himself as he adjusted his bright red jacket that he was wearing. He walked around the dark underground area that was only lit up by the fires on the floor that never spread. “I hear souls are escaping into a new afterlife called the Black Parade.” A soul by the name of Joe informed as he walked alongside the leader of the underworld. “Not only are souls that are meant to come to hell escaping to the black parade souls that are already here are escaping too.” Another by the name of Andy added. “So that’s where Pete went.” Joe noticed. “Yeah, he left to the black parade, something about unfinished business with one of the members. I don’t know.” Andy shrugged. “The Black Parade.” Patrick tested the foreign words.

Patrick walked around asking any souls that he saw if they knew how to get to the Black Parade. Most of them said they had no idea either because they genuinely did not know or because they feared the leader of the underworld would destroy their only way of escape if he knew. “Why does no one know!” Patrick growled in frustration. “I hear you want to know how to get into the Black Parade.” A hooded figure said to him as it leaned against a wall and looked at the ground to shield its face. It had an all back hood and cape attached to it causing it to look formless. “Yes, do you have any information about it.” Patrick asked urgently. “First, state your reason why.” The figure commanded. “I don’t follow” Patrick said confused. “Why do you want to join The Black Parade?” The figure explained. “I don’t want to join,” Patrick corrected. “I just want to get a friend of mine back.” “Who’s your friend?” The figure questioned. “Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz the third.” Patrick answered. “Does he have a shorter name that he goes by?” The figure digressed. “Pete Wentz.” Patrick replied. The figure chuckled to itself. “What’s so funny?” Patrick inquired. “Let’s just say Pete found someone and now no one can bring him back. Not even you Satan.” The figure lifted their head but their hood still covered half their face and caused a shadow over the rest. “Who even are you?” Patrick growled. “It’s not important. You’re not joining the Black Parade anyway.” The figure brushed off the question, turned its back and began to walk away. Before they could get far Patrick grabbed their hood and caused their front clip to unclip and caused the figure to walk out of the hood to reveal itself. The figure seemed human and once alive. The figure was very pale, had white hair and was dressed in a military type uniform that was all black with only white details and silver buttons. “How did an Angel get down here?” Patrick marveled at the beauty of the once hooded figure. “I’m not an angel.” The figure corrected. “But you’re too beautiful to just be a soul down here.” Patrick commented. “I’m neither a soul nor a angle. I am Gerard Way, and I am the leader of The Black Parade.” The figure revealed. “The Black Parade. That’s where Pete went.” Patrick recalled. “What was Pete to you?” Gerard asked. “He was a good friend of mine.” Patrick answered. “Just a friend? Nothing more? Nothing less?” Gerard walked around Patrick. “Did you want something more?” “No of course not.” Patrick scoffed. “From the way you talk about him, he could be your lover.” Gerard commented as he stopped in front of Patrick. “I have no time nor place in my heart for love.” Patrick claimed. Gerard put his hand under Patrick’s chin and lifted Patrick head a bit higher to look into his eyes. “Maybe I could change that one day.” Gerard purred. “And when you do I’ll step down from my throne.” Patrick challenged even though a faint voice in the back of his head had already told him that he’s already failed at that. Gerard leaned his head closer to Patrick and Patrick soon found himself leaning in also. It didn’t take long for their lips to connect to share a forbidden kiss between the two leaders of different worlds. “You do realize you’ve lost your own bet?” Gerard pointed out as the two pulled away. “Then why do I feel like such a winner with you?” Patrick coaxed. “Because I can be your prize if you let me.” Gerard baited. Patrick grabbed Gerard’s jacket collar and pulled him toward himself for another kiss.

(I’m terrible at endings sorry. But it’s here and finishes so yay I guess)

//// YUKI THAT IS BEAUTIFUL, WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE TO ME I’M IN LOOOOOOVVVEEEEEEE