#bandom fanfiction

[jonwalkerthebassplayer]

A STEP CLOSER TO HELL IS DONE

YES, YOU HEARD THAT RIGHT, DONE!!! (well there is an epilogue i am writing but like the story part, yeah, finally fuckin done)

It only took THREE WHOLE YEARS but shes done. Shes my child, my masterpiece, my magnum opus. Finally.

Chap 10 and 11 are up

AND YOU CAN READ IT HERE

#mhau #a step closer to hell #ryden #bandom #brendon urie #ryan ross #patd #panic at the disco #bandom fanfiction #bandom fanfic #ryden fic #ryden fanfic #ryden fanfiction #ao3 #archive of our own #mental hospital AU #mhau update #clover fields au #clover fields mhau #frerard #spencer smith #jon walker #spencer smith/ jon walker #spencer smith/ ryan ross #haha jk unlesss #josh dun #tyler joseph #joshler #top #twenty one pilots

[the-way-of-words]

You Drive Me Crazy // prompt fic

Hi there! Sorry it's taking me some time to get to the smut prompts... ✨life✨ is a thing and sometimes it's hard, but thank you for your patience! @thebadchic asked for Noah with #30 "You don't understand how angry I am right now." and #50 "You're all mine." - "Mhm" - "Say it." - "I'm all yours." Content warnings: jealousy, rough-ish sex, P in V sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling Contains sexual situations with a fictionalized version of a real person. This is fiction. It's not real, it never happened. Scroll on if that's not your thing

Enjoy!

Master list can be found here

The door slams behind Noah as he follows you into the house, leaning against the doorway as you turn to him. “Will you just let it go?”

“No.” He retorts, “Because you don’t understand how angry I am right now.” 

Rolling your eyes, you plant your hands on your hips. “Are you kidding me? I know exactly how angry you are right now.” You scoff before you take a step forward, “I know you Noah. I smiled at your friend a little too much and you got all twisted.” 

His jaw ticks and you know you’re right. It may be playing with fire but you keep going anyway. “Do I need to remind you we’re not exactly in a relationship here… You’re too busy for one of those, remember? We’re both free to explore other options as long as we’re up front with one another. Your rules.” 

You’re pushing it and you know it. What started out as a string of casual one offs quickly turned into something more when both of you found it increasingly harder to leave the other’s bed the morning after. It hurt, when you eventually had the talk and he let you know as much as he liked you, he couldn’t do a relationship right now and while you’re not one to sit and wait around for a guy; there was something about Noah that kept you coming back. 

There had to be something about you too, because he’s the one that joined you in the cab after you decided to head home for the night.

“It was more than that and you know it.” Noah says, leaning forward to get into your space a little. “You seem to forget, I know exactly how you flirt, how you look when you’re hoping to get some.” 

He’s right and you were. But running into him and a friend of his you had only met a handful of times had been an accident. Even so, you couldn’t deny that Davis was cute and when he started flirting with you, who were you to say no? It was harmless, really, but you’d be lying if there wasn’t a part of you that got a little excited. Especially when the man’s hand landed on your thigh and you could feel Noah’s eyes burning into when his friend’s thumb rubbed back and forth over the black denim of your jeans. 

“So what, Noah? I’m sorry I got a little close with Davis, but once again… I’m not yours.” 

He pushes away from your door, stepping into your space and even though you’d never tell him, you feel yourself grow wet as you tilt your head back to look at him. “You sure about that?” He asks. “Because if I didn’t know any better, I’m the one you’ve been calling when you need a little release. When you need someone to hold you down and fuck you into next week.” 

“Well,” you say, placing your hands on his chest before you lightly push him away, “maybe I’m tired of being in limbo. Maybe I want something more… and maybe Davis could be the one to give it to me.”

Noah grabs you by the waist as your turn from him, pushing you against the wall, “See, I don’t think so,” he says, laughing derisively, “I bet if I stick my hand inside these pants of yours, you’d be wet for me… Not Davis, me.”

You snort, yet you don’t stop him when he undoes the button of your jeans, nor when he pulls the zipper down.. “Are you sure about that?” Your head moves against the wall as you meet his gaze defiantly, “I caught myself staring at his mouth a couple times tonight, he seems like he’d be able to show me a good time. I wonder how that beard of his would feel on my thighs… or how that long hair would feel between my fingers. Do you think he’d let me pull it while he--”

He smirks, leaning in to speak quietly into your ear before slipping his hand into your panties, “Because you’re mine.” You try to roll your eyes at him when he moves his head back, but then his fingers are brushing against you, a sound somewhere between a choked gasp and moan falling from your lips. You’re wet, just like he knew you would be and before you can feel any sort of discontent at his victory, he’s rubbing soft circles around your clit. Pleasure burns low in your belly, his clever fingers touching you exactly how you want it. 

“Yeah,” he says, lowly, “thought so.” 

You can hear the triumph in his voice and before you’re even aware of it, you’re pushing him away from you. 

Caught off guard, he stumbles backwards a few steps, and you follow, fisting your hands in his shirt, uttering a soft shut up as you pull his mouth to yours. The kiss almost feels like a fight; you nip at his lip taking the sensitive flesh between our teeth and he answers by shoving his tongue into your mouth. You’re not even aware you’re moving until the two of you bump into your couch and you push him down, letting him pull your jeans to the floor. Your hands work at his pants quickly, pulling the waistband as soon as they’re unbuttoned as shoving them down his thighs before you straddle his lap.

“I can’t fucking believe you—” he cuts off, gasping when your hand closes around his shaft, tugging him teasingly, your thumb brushing against his tip. “I can’t fucking believe you.” Noah says again, words pressed against your lips, one of his hands tangling in your hair as you sink down onto him. 

You take him deep, rolling your hips desperately, crying out when the hand in your hair tugs your head back so he can lick and suck at your throat. 

“God, you drive me crazy.” He bites out, nipping at your throat a little harder as if to prove a point. 

Your hips twist. “Fuck, Noah. I know… I know.” Because you do. You feel the same way; no one has ever managed to get under your skin quite the way he has. 

He pulls your head towards his, grunting when you clench around him, “You’re all mine.” 

You don’t understand what he’s saying at first, too consumed with the slick drag of his cock along your walls as you move over him; until those big hands of his close around your hips, stopping your movement. “You’re all mine. Aren’t you?”

“Mhm,” and it’s true; you are. You have been for a while now, as much as you’ve tried to fight it. But that doesn’t seem to be what he wants to hear because he still doesn’t release you, doesn’t let you move. 

“Say it.” He says, punctuating the words with a shallow thrust up into you. His hands tighten around your hips, fingers flexing when you grind your hips into his. It's only a small movement, with the grip he’s got on you, but it lights you up all the same. You moan, digging your fingers into his shirt where it rests on his shoulders. “Come on,” he says, bumping your nose with his as he lets you continue to grind on him, “Say it, and I’ll give you what you want.”

“I-I’m all yours.” 

“That’s right… No one else’s but mine.” His hold is still strong, but now he uses it to kickstart your movement, moving you back and forth on his cock until you pick up the rhythm. “Oh fuck,” he curses, “Fuck, c’mon, touch yourself for me… please.”

Nodding, you grant his request, working your fingers between you to play with your clit. It only takes a few strokes until you're clamping down on him, eyes rolling back as you feel the heat in your belly explode and you cry out.

Noah grunts, a string of curses falling from his mouth as he chases his own release; voice cutting off sharply when he stills and you can feel him twitch as he empties into you. Spent, you let yourself fall to the side, earning you a sharp gasp when he leaves your heat. It’s quiet as you come down, both of you trying to catch your breath, until Noah groans, moving forward to pull his underwear back on.

“Come on.” He gestures, pulling you up so he can herd you into your bedroom where you sit on your bed while he digs through your drawers to find you something to sleep in. It feels weirdly intimate, more so than when he was inside you just minutes ago, as he hands you your favorite sleep shirt. He even pulls your blanket back for you while you change, looking unsure as you crawl beneath it. 

“Are you gonna stay?” 

His eyebrows lift in surprise at your question, mouth falling open, “I --”

You roll your eyes and sigh, “Noah, get in the bed.”

He laughs quietly, but follows your request, sliding in beside you. You’re both silent for a few moments until, “I’m sorry. For,” he sighs, “getting jealous like that. I know we’re not in a relationship or anything, and I know I set that line…” He trails off, letting the sentence hang. 

“You know,” you say, turning to look at him, “I think you’re just as much mine as I am yours.” 

He pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead before replying, “As if there was ever any doubt…” 

~fin~

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #bad omens rpf #noah sebastian fic #bandom fic #rpf #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian/reader #reader fic #noah sebastian smut #smut prompt fill

[fishwithtitz]

Was It Worth It? (Cardinal Terzo x Reader)

Summary: Worth (n.) - the value equivalent to that of someone or something under consideration; the level at which someone or something deserves to be valued or rated.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Cardinal Terzo x AFAB reader / 6.2k words

Warnings: language, graphic description of piv sex, religious trauma, alcohol, poorly translated Italian, angst

aO3 link

Part One: What Goes Up...

Sometimes, when the sun was low in the sky like this, and you could still feel the occasional pitter of droplets dispersing against your skin, you took the risk of abandoning your responsibilities and popping outside for the evening. It was peculiar how the salmon rays of the sun peeked through heavy, sodden clouds. The beams heated the water in the air and made it sticky and heavy. “Hot rain” your Granddad had called it. It reminded you of simplicity. Of home. 

You stepped right outside the cloister on the farthest corner of the abbey to soak the weighted air and shafts of light inward as self-anointing. The grass was springy under your feet, verdant, and you lost track of your steps as you meandered out into the less-manicured side of the grounds towards the wooded border of the property’s boundaries. 

It had been two years since you decided to join the order. Your family, long gone at the prospect of you choosing a life of sin and vulgarity, and your friends feigning happiness that slowly dripped away as time wore on and contact faded into simple memories. You didn’t mind it. If being a part of the ministry had taught you anything, it was that change was normal - healthy, even - and that embracing and adapting was necessary to find self-fulfillment and true absolution.

The first year as a Sister of Sin proved a heady challenge. With scripture and philosophy to study, on top of a laundry list of new procedures and rituals and ways of living to memorize, you had your hands full. There were some nights where sleep was truly a blessing from below and you started to understand the pull of addiction as you filled your coffee for what seemed like the umpteenth time at breakfast before starting your shift washing the ministry’s linens. 

Uncertainty and impulsivity had inspired you to join. Desperation had encouraged you to stay. Like a mid-life crisis happening 20 years too soon, you clung to any open window to find purpose and opportunity. You longed for a defined path outlined in thick black marker on a map with an ‘x marks the spot’. 

It wasn’t until a year and a half into your tenure as a Sister of Sin, fresh out of novitiate, that you met a young Cardinal Terzo (as he liked to be called) and your outlook on this new life began to shift. You couldn’t exactly point to why he had chosen you out of all the other sisters. You didn’t feel as though you were the most attractive, or the most seductive, or the most educated or intelligent. You didn’t feel secure in any specific talents and you didn’t feel a drive to accomplish anything specific. If anything, your energy was spent on yearning for direction. 

Perhaps he had noticed your propensity to velcro into anything novel or interesting. Or maybe it was your enthrallment and willingness to engage. Whatever the reason, Terzo had chosen you to devote his time to. 

You had been assigned to his detail as a temporary member of his small team of siblings. Though your past experience noted a range of clerical skills and literary study, you had instead been chosen to keep his chambers. It had taken all but a few days to learn Cardinal Terzo’s particulars. His sheets, which were a stereotypical black satin, had to be positioned just right (heaven forbid the fitted sheet have a loose corner…one would think that Papa himself had been murdered). Because of their color and Terzo’s…life choices, both the top sheet and the fitted sheet had to be changed nearly daily to save them from resembling Pollock’s “Lavender Mist”. His clothing had to be organized by occasion and style (and as you quickly found out, by random personal preference that seemed to change on a whim). Terzo required his wine fridges (plural) to be stocked twice weekly (including the large collection of reds that rested atop each fridge at room temperature), and it wasn’t uncommon to fulfill last minute requests for antipasto, fruit, candles, or other carnal delicacies to be brought to his room for later that evening. 

Completing tasks was a nightmare. You never knew if your assigned shift would lead you into an empty (and disarrayed) room with Terzo having been up and out early in the morning, or an occupied suite that stayed inhabited up into the early afternoon. The latter still caught you off-guard and you made frequent mental notes to work on your stuttered apologies as you awkwardly left his bedroom to wait until it was empty to resume your duties.

However, one day that seemed all but special, you entered his bedroom to change his linens and refresh his wardrobe, only to find Cardinal Terzo hunched over the mantel in front of the fireplace. His head hung low, browbeaten, and a rocks glass of scotch was perched between heavy fingers while his fist was clasped to his right. If you listened closely enough, you swore you could hear his aggravated breathing laced with tears. You froze at the sight. 

“I’m sorry, Cardinal. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you eventually peeped out, trying your best to keep your tone even as to not portray any perceived judgment. 

Terzo hadn’t turned to face you, but was quick in his reply — his voice gravely and gruff. “It’s best if you go, Sorella,” he responded, gripping even tighter onto the glass. The air felt thick and you could feel your own sweat (whether from the heat of the fire or the anxiety of catching Terzo at an inopportune moment, you weren’t sure) pooling on your forehead. 

Despite his request, you stayed stationary. 

You couldn’t help but look over the way his hair hung down to frame his painted eyes, tracks of tears threatening to wash away the intricate circular design and painted bow, and how his lips pursed in the firelight. Do you dare overstep your professional boundaries to show a touch of common humanity? To show that despite his role as a prominent Cardinal in the church, he was still a human being that deserved empathy and kindness? It was then that you decided to be bold. You took a deep breath. 

“Do you need a hug?”

Your words seemed to catch Terzo off guard, and he suddenly raised his head and craned his neck to look at you, eyebrows furrowed. You gently set down the basket of clean laundry and took a step towards him, wringing your hands in apprehension as you approached him. 

Upon seeing you, soft-faced and vulnerable in the dim light, his own expression dampened and he turned his body to face yours. “I think I would like that, Sorella,” he replied. 

It was from the moment that your small frame enveloped him, your head tucking in against his chest while your hands moved comfortingly against the smooth fabric of his jacket that hugged against his back, that you felt your heart beam against his. And maybe, you reasoned, you weren’t crazy in thinking that you felt his beam back against your own.

Over the next week or so, your daily visits to his chambers began to change. You could almost bet on him being present for your visits now, and while it had made you nervous before, you had begun to look forward to seeing him lounging about in his chambers, coffee in hand as he greeted you with a warm, “Good Morning, Sorella.” Dinner in the refectory had been previously uneventful, but now was punctuated by stolen glances from (and to) the head table, with Terzo occasionally lifting his ever-present glass of red in your direction — a subtle, yet definite nod to your existence. You couldn’t help but internally swoon. 

The second week after your fireside interaction, after replacing the linens, replenishing the firewood, and restocking a few choice wines in Terzo’s chambers, you were met with a personal request from the Cardinal. 

Like many nights during weeks prior, Terzo had left his room with a special request for the evening. “A sensuous feast” he had called it, and having fulfilled his wishes before, you knew exactly the way it was to be done. 

Ignoring your disappointment (and the pang in your chest when you read the note), you worked with the kitchen ghouls to create a charcuterie board to remember, rife with various fruits, cheeses, nuts, and the homemade rosemary focaccia you knew he enjoyed at dinner. A bottle of prosecco sat on ice in a marble wine chiller on the low mahogany coffee table (and you made sure to stock a couple extra in the nearby wine fridge for good measure), and two glasses were perfectly polished beside it, waiting for eventual effervescence. A low fire was kindled and warmed the plush rug that lay in front of it as it waited for its future occupants. 

Swallowing the sharp spasms that assaulted your chest, you gave the room a small, unreturned smile and surveyed your work. 

“Beautiful job, Dolcezza.” Terzo’s silken voice frightened you as it broke the quietude in the room. You let out a breath, a chuckle laced between it and your words, and you replied with your same gentle smile. 

“Thank you. Will that be all, Your Eminence?”

You had been prepared for the Cardinal to shoo you away, possibly thanking you with another one of his thousand-yard smirks, but to your surprise, he didn’t. Instead, he wrinkled his brows in thought, walking slowly over to the velvet-tufted loveseat across from the mantel. His gloved hand stroked the back, fingertips brushing so lightly that they didn’t even leave a mark. 

“Actually, no, Sorella,” he said, eyes fixed on the raspberry-hued fabric. You felt your lungs tighten. Had you forgotten something? You’d be the first to admit that you’d been distracted in your work lately, and it wouldn’t have surprised you to see that you missed something crucial. Terzo interrupted your worried visage, his duochromatic eyes flickering up to you with a sultry gaze. “...would you like to stay?”

His words had hit you square in the jaw, which you were sure was now hanging open just slightly at your surprise. You swallowed and stammered out, “I-I don’t want to intrude on your company, Cardinal.”

“I was hoping you would be my company tonight, Dolcezza.”

It was the first of many evenings spent with Terzo. The debut of your time together, if you will — and it was not at all what you had expected. 

Tentatively, you agreed to the invitation, only doing so because you knew that his room was the last on your list to freshen and you were now technically done with your duties. You had watched as Terzo held his hand out to motion towards the seating by the fire, and you hesitantly moved to take a seat on the plump leather couch across from the loveseat. 

To say that you had been nervous would be a gross understatement. Your senses drank in the stimulus around you — the pop of the bottle of sweet wine, the fizz of the bubbles blooming in the glass, the spicy, floral musk of Terzo’s cologne drifting through the air as he held out the flute for you to timidly accept — they all became cataloged in your mind as sensory memories of this first excursion. 

If Terzo’s smooth, charming attitude hadn’t calmed you down, the prosecco surely had. Not long after you’d taken your first sip, Terzo had sat on the other side of the couch with his own glass in his gloved hand, his cardinal cassock floating down over his crossed legs like sin, and he had struck up a conversation. His body was turned towards yours, eyes always drinking in your form like it was the preferred spirit of the evening, as he asked you more about who you were. 

He was easy to talk to (far easier to talk to than you’d expected). You divulged your history with the church and briefly described your one and a half year commitment with a peaceful pride. As a Cardinal, you were sure he spent the majority of the time discussing the intimacies of the ministry and you didn’t want to bore him. 

“And what led you to the light bringer, Sorella?” he had asked you, fingertips stroking the stem of the champagne flute delicately, tenderly. 

Even though you’d initially fabricated walls to guard you from revealing your past, Terzo’s soothing yet fascinating energy knocked them down almost instantaneously. You explained the falling out with your parents over your decisions for your career and lifestyle, how they’d refused to support you following your passions as it didn’t seem “financially prudent” to do so. With forlorn fondness, you recalled your relationship with your Granddad that had ended abruptly with his unforeseen death and how it had cracked your mother’s inward countenance and plastered it back up with vodka and Valium. The final straw, you explained, was your decision to openly renounce your faith and begin the exploration into different forms of spirituality. Terzo had listened intently, his face bleeding sympathy and compassion as you unraveled your past in a way you hadn’t since joining the order.  

But despite the heavy conversation, the night turned to one of true connection as you both polished off the first bottle of prosecco (and eventually, most of the charcuterie). Laughter frequently permeated the air after the second bottle had been opened, and you giggled over shared stories of gossip about the ministry — Terzo even letting a few more secretive and scandalous pieces about the clergy loose after his fourth glass of bubbles. 

By the end of the evening, you began to see Terzo in a new light. Before, he’d been the suave, debonair Cardinal with a reputation of philandry.  But now, Terzo felt like a true kindred spirit. As you’d gotten up to leave (sea-legged from the alcohol, you might add) the Cardinal had offered you his hand to steady you. After helping you up, he continued holding onto your hand, his body advancing closer to you with a half-step.

You remember the light of the fire reflecting off the yin-yang black and white eye as he took in your features. You remember the notes of apple and pear on his breath. Most of all, you remember the words he purred out in a low, dulcet hum. 

“I’m going to kiss you now, Dolcezza.”

And he had. Searingly slow, his lips lingered on yours for countless seconds before he pulled away completely. 

It was the beginning of the downfall.  

🜏🜏🜏

A mere two days after your memorable night with the Cardinal, you arrived at the workroom connecting the laundry to the housekeeping stores in increased anticipation to start your duties. Yesterday was your day off, and as such, you hadn’t had the opportunity to see Cardinal Terzo. 

As soon as you set down your coffee thermos, Sister Teresa, a senior Sister of Sin, approached you with a jollied clap on her hands. She explained that the sister you’d been covering for had healed quite nicely from her surgery and was returning to work early — today, in fact — and your services in housekeeping would no longer be needed. With a chuckle, she reached out to touch your arm, saying, “It’s a blessing of timing from the Dark One. We have been running behind ever since you left!”

Outwardly, you nodded and thanked the sister for letting you know before heading through the connecting door to the laundry. Once out of sight, you sighed, turning to make your way down the walkway towards the oncoming chutes, closed fist lightly pounding against a pile of folded bedsheets as you passed. You weren’t exactly sure when you’d get to speak with Terzo again, which of course disappointed you, but you were arguably more disappointed that you’d spent the time shaving your legs and fussing over the exact flavor of lip balm before leaving for work today — all for naught. 

That evening, you took your usual seat in the refectory with a slogged posture. Your hands smelled of bleach and detergent, and your skin felt dry from the dryer sheets you’d spent the afternoon picking from the dryer vent. After pouring yourself a healthy glug of table red from the decanter, you sighed and leaned back, watching as other siblings filled the room. After a few lengthy sips and more disassociation than you’d care to admit, you saw a flash of a black cassock from the corner of your eye. Towards the front of the refectory, seated at the clergy table, was Cardinal Terzo. He was mid conversation with one of the bishops and looked surprisingly pleased as he took a seat and accepted a glass of red similar to yours. His glance turned to your direction by chance and he met your eyes, smirking before raising his glass as he had so many times before. You raised yours back. 

And on this went for the remainder of the week — you, successfully seeking out his gaze and him acknowledging you with a raised glass, a smile, or as of the night before, a wink. Each time made your heart patter so high in your chest that you could taste it in your throat (or maybe that was the pinot noir). 

This particular night, after placing your napkin on the table and sipping the last drop of wine from the globe of the drink ware, you realized that this week put you into a state of melancholy. You’d felt trapped (an odd feeling in a church based on free will) and you craved a break in your monotonous routine. A walk would do you good, you'd decided. You breezed past a group of siblings and out the refectory doors so quickly that you hadn’t heard the voice calling your name from the other end of the room. 

Down the cloister and to the gravel path your feet traveled, and just after you felt the crunch of the rocks beneath your shoes, a hand reached out to cup your shoulder. You’d turned with an inward huff, nearly frightened, but each muscle seemed to relax when you’d seen that it was just him, just Terzo, and a smile crept across your cheeks.

From an outward observer, the walk would have seemed ordinary. It wasn’t out of character for siblings to peruse the gardens in the evening, and members of the clergy indulged too, of course. But as you made your way through the carefully pruned rhododendrons and lilac-lined pathways, Terzo admitted something that made the stroll all but ordinary. 

“I miss seeing you in my chambers, Dolcezza. I hope our kiss did not frighten you away.”

And of course you had assured him that it was anything but, explaining the predicament that brought you to the housekeeping staff in the first place, along with the reassignment to the ministry laundry earlier in the week. 

As time wore on, you kept to your work in the laundry and he to his in the clergy, but both you and il Cardinale continued your joint traditions — the hushed glances at dinner, the occasional stretch through the church’s gardens. You shared the stories of your respective days, with the conversations always morphing into a mishmosh of memories or past experiences, with the occasional smattering of theological conversation. Sometimes you sealed the evening with a kiss, sometimes you didn’t. However, regardless of how the night ended, you always thought of the taste of his lips on yours (wine-bathed and smoky and soft). 

Luckily, on occasion, the senior Sisters of Sin pulled the laundry staff to help out with housekeeping duties in the event of someone falling ill or needing to take time off. Each time this was proffered, you quickly volunteered, buttering the situation with the explanation that you had already filled in before and knew the routines and procedures, including the particulars of the clergy members. It made you appear as if you were flexible, hardworking, and willing to help the ministry in any way needed. Deep down, however, you knew that your real motivation was the off-chance that you’d get to see your raven-haired Cardinal. 

One of these days you had all but physically jumped at the opportunity to help out with housekeeping. Your enthusiasm was nearly crushed when you found out that not only were they short staffed, but they had fallen behind due to a fairly extensive disaster left behind in an upper clergymen’s room by what appeared to be an entire pack of ghouls. In spite of your utter exhaustion at the end of the day (and shudders at the recollection of all the oddly sticky surfaces you had to wipe down while tidying up the ghoul pack’s aftermath), you found yourself 

making the familiar trek to Terzo’s chambers. Ghoul juices aside, you had a slight jaunt in your step. The day’s unfortunate proclivities wouldn’t put a damper on your excitement of seeing the Cardinal. As soon as you entered his room, however, you noticed something felt strange. 

Hoping to finish your more formal duties quickly, you beelined into the bathroom to replace the towels and gather the dirty laundry before passing through to his bedchambers. Removing and replenishing his sheets was like child's play now, and after a couple of minutes you had already balled up the used linens and placed them in the basket with the other laundry before turning to exit his bedroom. 

You heard the crackling of the fireplace in his living space before you saw the dim flames, and the occasional scribbling sound of a pen against paper was even more of a telltale hint that you were not alone. Setting the basket down, you padded over to the leathered couch that reminded you of your first visit with the Cardinal and rested your hands against the back of it. Terzo was sitting against the rug, feet outstretched by the fire, with a notepad in hand. It had indeed been him slugging the fountain tip across the page, and from the balled up sheets of paper littering the floor, you gathered that whatever he was getting at was not a success. 

“Your Eminence?” you rasped out softly, so quietly that he didn’t hear you. “Cardinal?”

With your slightly louder inquest, Terzo’s head shot up and his pen dropped against the paper pad with an audible clunk. The delighted expression on your face dimmed, though, when you noticed his own. 

His usually slicked-back hair hung down in messy strands across his forehead, barely covering the lines that had formed there undoubtedly from a frequently furrowed brow. His eyes looked a little glassy, and although the paint around his eyes and upper lip didn’t seem to be tear-scathed, you could tell that he had rubbed at his face more than once by the blurry edges of the black makeup. In sum, Terzo looked doggedly stressed. 

“Dolcezza,” his voice perked up with a hint of surprise, “What a treat it is to see you here.” 

You could feel the color creeping into the apples of your cheeks like ripened fruit. “They needed a little extra assistance and I offered to help,” you explained, your voice calm and surprisingly steady at the scene in front of you. 

“Ahh, bene.” Terzo threw the notepad down to the floor with a little more oomph than you expected, stretching his feet out in front of him. You noted that they were dangerously close to the fire.

“Is everything alright?” you asked as you came closer, rounding the couch to sit down next to him on the floor, “you seem a little —” you paused, unsure of whether to continue lest you come off insulting, yet decided to risk it, “ —stressed.”

The Cardinal sighed. “SÌ,” he breathed out, slipping his hand through his hair for what had to have been the dozenth time that evening. “I am to give the sermon at black mass tomorrow.”

Your lips curved into a proud smile. “Black mass? That’s…well, an honor, really.”

Terzo nodded. “SÌ… however, I have yet to finish it. I keep coming to a stop, like a eh—” he paused, his hand motioning in circles as if to demonstrate that he was searching for the correct word, “ —barrier, in my mind.”

Folding your legs underneath you (and being careful to adjust the skirt of your habit), you turned to face him. “You have writer’s block?”

“If I am to be completely honest, I have never delivered a sermon at Black Mass before.” He sighed again and you noted that there was a lot of weight in that sigh. He looked down, flipping the pen to and fro between his slender fingers. “A lot is riding on this performance and I fear I will be nothing but a disappointment.”

At this, your body stiffened. Terzo had always seemed so confident, so demure, and you were taken aback by his insecurity. “Cardinal,” you began, inching just a bit closer, “you are anything but a disappointment.”

At this, the painted man beside you laughed. “Ahh, yes, il stronzo, perhaps…”

You rolled your eyes at his self-deprecation. “Based on our conversations during our walks, I think you will do beautifully. You have quite the mind for theology, and you speak eloquently and with conviction.” You licked the curve of your lips, craning a bit to try to see his downtrodden eyes. “Maybe it’s yourself you should have some faith in?”

At your kind words, Terzo raised his head, his hair partially hiding the milky white eye that you had never quite become accustomed to. “I’m afraid I will just disappoint you, cara. As well as the congregation.” At this, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his fist clenching as he softly pounded the ground in frustration. “Figlio di puttana…”

The way he looked right now reminded you of the first moment you approached him: vulnerable, closed in on himself, raw, and before you knew it, you reached out your hand to gently touch his left arm, your own fingertips brazenly trailing up and down the wool-covered limb. Your touch surprised the Cardinal, and his eyes  met yours once more — this time, the widened emerald one peering straight through you. 

What you didn’t know was how touched Terzo was by your compassion at this moment. Of course, he knew how much you cared and sacrificed for others, but you never ceased to amaze him with your empathy and tenderness. His heart beamed in a way he hadn’t felt since childhood, and as he drank in your alluring stare, he couldn’t resist the urge to study your beauty in the firelight. He noted the way the flames etched against the contours of your cheeks and jaw, shadows drawn across bone. 

Putting his gloved hand on your own, he found himself leaning towards you, his fingers squeezing yours as his breath stilled in his throat. Warm lips — one painted and one bare — pressed against your own and you felt at home again. Your kisses with Terzo had always felt this way, and although they were a bit of an unconstant, you relished in the moments you’d get to feel him like this. 

Your eyes fluttered closed. Head tilting ever so slightly, your body mirrored his own as you melted into the touch. Faint wine and the bitter tang of paint touched your tongue while you moved your lips against his, the slower series of pecks diverging into something a little more heated, urgent, needy. 

As you sat like this, all you could hear was the crackling of the fire in front of you, the light smacking of your lips moving in unison, and the intakes and exhales of shared breath. It felt much more intimate than you were used to with Terzo. But most of all, it felt right. 

His hand trailed from yours and danced across the flesh of your neck to your jawline, cupping it gently as he tilted to deepen your connection, tongue tasting your lips (for self-gratification or permission, you weren’t sure). You also weren’t exactly sure how you ended up lateral on the thick rug, or how your hand had found purchase in his slicked back hair, or how his own had pushed the fabric of your skirt up around your bare thigh, or even how your bodies had been pulled so impossibly close. Nevertheless, you found yourself wrapped in air thickened with firewood and his cologne and the humid heat of your kisses and exhales, and Satan below the way his trouser covered leg had parted your own to tangle you both into one being had your mind swimming.

“Let me take you,” he had whispered to you, his breath warm against the corner of your lip and the curve of your cheek, “let me have you here, like I’ve always wanted to.”

That was all it took. The look in his eyes had been flooded with desire and it overcame your ability to do anything but completely submit to his request.

He moved over top of you, his arms lifting up criss-crossed to pull his jacket and button up off his slender, muscular frame. Flamed illumination danced across the ridges of the muscles of his chest, the smooth, lightly tanned skin that still seemed so deliciously pale for an Italian man, and your eyes took in stills to catalog in your memory while he slid his hands up and under your dress uniform. 

Terzo mimicked the action with your dress, pulling it over your head quickly before tossing it casually to the side. His hand slipped underneath you and before you realized it, the tension of your bra loosened and the garment was quickly abandoned. As cool air pricked the skin of your breasts, the Cardinal’s eyes wandered down to stare at them in the dim light. He bit at the tips of his gloved fingers to loosen the silken material, pulling them off to reveal slender, strong hands that reached for your soft skin. 

He must have noticed he look of insecurity that painted your face, of shyness, because he began to trace your curves with his fingertips, just barely, butterfly wings against the surface, and murmured out “Cosi bella…” as they shimmered across the peak of your nipples. 

Far back in the recesses of your mind, you felt dips of worry. Was this something that he said to everyone he was with? Was this how he treated all the women he’d brought back to his quarters — the quarters that you’d cleaned and prepared? But each time your mind wandered there, you pulled it back with a yank of a leash to the present. You were here, this was now, and you were going to enjoy what was happening in this moment. 

Your mouths connected again, this time more wantonly, and all you could taste was the uniqueness that was simply Terzo — the wine, the smokiness, the dark face paint. A groan escaped his lips into your own and he moved to box you in with his thighs on either side of your body. One hand found room just by your head against the ground and held him above you, while the other clutched to your left breast, kneading and squeezing at you with a mix of adoration and longing. 

When he brought his hips down to press against your own, you let forth your own series of moans into his mouth, and he all but combusted as he ripped your lips apart, hands hurriedly unbuckling his pants to shimmy them down his legs. Your reaches crossed one another’s as you both grasped at each other’s undergarments and tandemly pulled them down over hips and skin, revealing your bare forms in communion. 

From there you lie naked on the rug, Terzo on top of you, with sweat-slicked skin osculating as tongues and teeth gnashed passionately. Veil and shoes were long forgotten. You could feel his hard length pressing against the space between your sex and your thigh and it made a chill wash over the expanse of your body. As his hips rutted against your pelvis, he slid between your folds, slick coating him with delicious friction, and your arms wound under his own to curl around the strong muscles of his back and shoulders. You broke the kiss with a whimper and crooked your neck to the side. 

“Cardinal,” you hummed out, a little more needy than you had intended to, “don’t make me wait any more.”

He lifted his head to look in your eyes, a chuckle reaching past his lips as his hair nearly dripped across your forehead. 

“The virtue of patience isn’t something we celebrate in our faith, Dolcezza,” he purred as he brought his face close to yours, breath pricking across your lips and cheek as he moved his mouth to ghost your earlobe, “ —and I think you’ve waited long enough.”

With that, he pulled his hips back and you whined at the brief loss, your breath stilted as he pushed forward almost immediately, his cock pushing past your folds and into you firmly. You let out a choked groan and your eyes ripped open, watching the darkness of his pupils overtake his unmatched irises as he sank into you to the hilt. 

Your leg came up to hook around his hip and thigh as he pistoned in and out of you. Your hand gripped the furry fibers of the rug below, the other still curved around his back to hang onto his shoulder like he’d disintegrate if you let go. With every thrust you found God, and every retreat you went searching for redemption. 

Your Cardinal found solace in the arch of your neck, teeth nipping at skin and tendon as he grunted along with each forward movement. 

“Così buono con me. Sei così buono con me.”

Tension built up inside of your core, tugging at the muscles of your abdomen, and you felt your grip tighten around Terzo. Despite the stricture, you could feel your core blooming, softening taking everything he had as he worked himself inside of you, hips rolling and grinding. 

The smell of the sweat on his skin and the burning wood of the fire lit your own flames deep within you and you could feel your impending release begin to blossom. “More,” you cried, the noise so sweet in taste and sound to Terzo that he couldn’t help but obey. 

He pressed his lips to your neck in a series of wet marks. Your hand abandoned the rug and came up to card through his air, fingertips winding around the strands with a needy tug as you felt your pussy begin to contract around his thick cock. He knew you were close because he kept going, never faltering in his pace or touch, moaning little praises into the skin of your clavicle until lightening rushed through your veins. 

You came and it felt like everything and nothing all at once. You weren’t sure if you’d made any noise at all, but as your jaw hung open, eyes fluttering back into your skull, you were certain that within the Cardinal’s arms was the only place you were meant to be. Here, now, releasing yourself to him completely, with the firelight plaguing the walls as a reminder of your devotion to him, your Cardinal, and to the flames of hell and the one below. 

Terzo was soon to follow with his own orgasm. You could sense him tensing, his length twitching as his hips began to jolt against your own unrhythmically, throaty growls punctuating his movements. And as he filled you, you trembled against him from the fiery char of your release, your own inner muscles twitching as you welcomed his spend as sacrament.

Breath stilted and waned as he lay collapsed against you, skin slick with the proof of your union, and your fingertips found purchase soothingly stroking against his scalp. A beat passed and you relaxed in the aftermath of just the two of you. Terzo was the first to speak. 

“Was it worth it?” he hummed out, eyes peering up at you from his head that rested against your soft breasts. 

You furrowed your brows with a small smile. “What do you mean?” you asked.

He tittered and brought his hand to trace along the line of your jaw. “The wait,” he clarified, thumb rubbing sweetly over your chin, “Was it worth it?”

You felt warmth course through your chest and leak into your limbs. It was different than before. It was new, yet oddly familiar — like remembrance, uncovering a dusted memory. Your hand came up to clasp over his own on your chin, and you brought it to your lips, pressing them slowly, repeatedly against his skin. 

“You’re always worth it.”

🜏🜏🜏

Yet now, as you soak in the humidity that paints your skin while you move across the courtyard and to a lesser occupied area of the Ministry gardens, your mind replays your words from that night. “You’re always worth it.” Always. So finite, so absolute. 

You continued to walk, searching for a prayer, a sign from the one below that everything will click into place and the grand plan will be revealed over time. And as you settled down onto an earthen stone bench overlooking an old statue of the Emeritus family, eyes cast towards the statue that partially formed the man you’d fallen from grace for, you realized that there was no hot rain.

Only tears. 

Tag list: @copiasghoulfriend @copias-juicebox @the-lisechen @anamelessfool

Image Credit(s): Pinterest

#ghost bc #ghost band #the band ghost #terzo #fanfic #ghost band fanfic #cardinal terzo #terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa iii x reader #papa terzo #terzo emeritus #ghost terzo #angst #terzo fanfiction #ghost fandom #ghost bandom #my writing

[grellestan]

HELLO MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE FANS

I got the unholyverse Frank tattoo today :3 eagerly awaiting being attacked by demons and being saved by a hot priest

#mcr #mcr fanart #my chemical romance #tattoos #mcr tattoo #gerard way #frank iero #mcr5 #unholyverse #mcr fanfiction #bandom #2000s emo #emocore

[fandombandomfics]

Fates Intertwined (Noah Sebastian x Female!biker!Reader)

This work is entirely fictional involving real life people. Situations and feelings do not reflect the individuals involved in real life. Simply work of fiction and brain worm that came about after my aesthetic I made.

Let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list!

Tag list: @darkmxgician@jilliemiw86@littlefoxkota

Chapter One

Y/N’s POV 

I decide to take my bike down to the Pier since it’s nice out. I text my biker friends to see if anyone is free to join me. I get a text from Leo and Cleo Aetos, the twins who have become my close friends since I moved to LA over a year ago. I walk out to my bike after dressing in proper clothes and grabbing my backpack. I turn on my bike and rev it up before texting them the meeting spot. After driving for a few minutes, I spot their bikes in the distance and I pull up next to Cleo.

“Y/N there you are,” Cleo says with a smile. I smile back and turn off my bike. 

“Ready for a ride?” Leo asks and I nod. 

“Always ready for a ride,” I say with a chuckle. We start our bikes and put our helmets on. 

“Race you both to the Pier parking lot,” I say and drive off. I hear them chuckle through our shared com channel and race after me. Once we get there, we park in two of the empty spaces near the front of the parking lot. Once we turn off our bikes, we take off our helmets and make our way to the Pier. I love coming here, especially on days I just wanna relax and not worry about creating content for my TikTok and YouTube. Leo, Cleo, and I make our way towards different small shops on the Pier and eat some food. 

“How are you and Sara doing Leo?” I ask

“We’re doing good, planning on proposing to her soon,” He replies with a smile. I smile back at him, excited to have Sara as part of our family we have formed. 

“That’s so exciting,” I say 

“Plan to do it during date night tomorrow,” He says 

“I helped him make the reservation since he was busy,” Cleo explains and I nod. 

“Always having your sister do the phone calls I see,” I say with a giggle. He shakes his head and punches my arm playfully. 

“Oh shut up Y/N/N,” He says and I laugh. 

“Do you make Sara do it for you?” Cleo asks, teasing her twin. He makes a face at us and we all laugh. After we finish our food, we continue our walk on the Pier. I spot the Ferris Wheel and look over at Leo and Cleo. They make a run for it and I follow them laughing. 

“Last one there is a rotten egg!” Leo exclaims. I run faster and run past Leo but I can see that Cleo is catching up to me. I somehow manage to get there first with Leo behind me and Cleo last. She laughs and shakes her head. 

“Damn Y/N you’re fast,” She says and I laugh.

“Did track in high school so I know how to run pretty fast,” I explain and she nods. 

“So Y/N do you like anyone?” Cleo asks 

“Nah I don’t. Never really found someone that has caught my eye,” I say

“You think you will find someone here?” She asks

“Maybe but I don’t know. Guess only time will tell if I find someone here or not,” I say 

“Well if you do let us meet him so we can see if he’s a douchebag or not,” Leo says 

“Don’t worry, I will,” I say and we get on the ferris wheel. 

Small time skip

We decide to call it a day when the sun was setting. We spotted at a spot on the pier and watched as the sky change colors. I smile and take out my vlog camera since I’ve been recording clips here and there throughout our stay here. 

“Beautiful sunset at Saint Monica Pier,” I say and Leo laughs. 

“Always vlogging Y/N,” He says 

“You can always tell me to not record you,” I say 

“I know just teasing,” He says with a chuckle. I laugh at his antics and shake my head. After turning off my camera, we all agree to head on a night ride to close the day. As I turn to start walking back, I collide with a brick wall. Looking up, my e/c meets brown ones and I can notice that they have a story to tell. 

“I’m sorry, should’ve been looking up and not on my phone,” He says with a small smile. 

“Told you Noah that would happen,” His companion with brown hair and white streaks at the front of his face says. 

“Oh shut up, Davis” Noah snaps back and shakes his head. I giggle and shake my own head and smile at the two of them. 

“So your name is Noah and your friends name is Davis? I’m Y/N,” I say and he smiles.

“Nice to meet you Y/N,” He says and I smile back. 

"Nice to meet you," Davis says

“Likewise,” I say

“Nice tattoos,” Noah says and I smile. 

“Could say the same thing about you,” I say and he chuckles. 

“Well give me your number so we can talk about them,” He says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Is this your way of asking me to hang out?” I say with a smirk. He nods with a small smile and puts his hands in his pockets. 

“Yeah,” He chuckles and I shake my head laughing. 

“Alright as long as you don’t murder me,” I say and take out my phone. We exchange numbers and make more small talk until Leo calls me over. 

“That's my cue to go,” I say and walk away from him.

“I’ll text you!” He shouts and I laugh. 

“You better!” I yell back and catch up with my two friends. 

“So Y/N got a guys numberrrrrrrr,” Cleo coos and I feel my cheeks heat up a little. 

“Oh shut up Cleo,” I say and she laughs. 

“Come on, let's go on that night ride,” Leo says, rather annoyed. We laugh and get on our bikes, going for that nice long night drive.

#bad omens #bad omens band #bad omens cult #noah sebastian #jolly karlsson #nicholas ruffilo #nick folio #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah x biker!reader #biker #bandom #ao3 fanfic #fanfic

[ohabigailhowcouldyou]

Candy... ~pt 2: Honey~

♡♡♡

Read part 1 first

♡♡♡

There was no moment for Vinny to get Ricky alone again for the rest of the day, and by the time they trooped onto the stage that night, Vinny's nerves felt taught, like guitar strings about to snap the second someone strummed them.

He tried to divert the tension into the music, letting the familiar beats of his drum kit carry him from song to song. But by the time Werewolf started, he knew it was in vain. Every so often until then he'd catch Ricky's eyes on him, blue and hot as gas flames, and something low in his belly would clench, like a hunger pang.

Then the second verse of Werewolf started, and for a second Ricky looked back at him, then pointedly nodded at Chris. Vinny's heart skipped a beat, as did the hit he'd meant to land on his snare drum. Ricky's smirk let him know the other man had noticed his fumble and he swallowed heavily, just barely recovering in time to look forward and witness, yet again, Chris displaying his feral side that had twitter in such a state. Vinny tried not to look. Tried and failed to keep his eyes off Chris' ass and thighs, his profile as he turned to do his dance with the Cherrybombs. And when, after the song, Chris grinned at him while drinking water, Vinny could feel the blush staining his cheeks just as painfully as he could feel that same tightening in his belly that Ricky could trigger. He didn't smile back, and could see the concern on Chris' face before he had to turn back and address the audience.

For the rest of the set, Vinny kept his head down, feeling unreasonably angry and humiliated. After everything, why would Ricky point his attention back to Chris, if not to mock him? Didn't this afternoon mean anything to Ricky after all? Had he misread disappointment at losing out on head as something deeper? The questions spun through Vinny's mind in a dizzy spiral with no end in sight.

They finished the set, and Vinny all but ran off stage, trying to get the hell away from his bandmates and his own thoughts. Unfortunately there weren't many places to escape to, backstage of the venue. He ended up outside, in the walkway between the venue and their fleet of buses and trailers. He leaned against a trailer, outside of the pool of light from the stage door, hoping he'd stay hidden for at least a little while. He shivered, the air was freezing on his sweaty, painted skin. He picked at a spot on his arm where the black paint was starting to flake off. Maybe on their next tour he'd stop covering his skin. Ricky didn't anymore, nor did Chris. At that thought, Vinny's frown deepened.

It was there, scratching the paint off his arm with a scowl on his face, that he was found, much sooner that he'd hoped.

"Vin, there you are! I've been looking - Jesus, Vinny, you're gonna get fucking hypothermia!"

It was Chris, ducking down so his worried expression was eye-level with Vinny. He was so close that Vinny could see the little specks of glitter that had migrated from his eyelids to his cheekbones during the show.

"I'm fine," Vinny tried to tell him, but the words were hampered by the fact that his teeth were chattering so hard. He hadn't noticed quite how cold he was until now, when he realized the pain in his limbs wasn't solely from drumming.

"Vin, what's going on?" Chris' voice was gentle, and his warm hands gripped Vinny's upper arms tugging him away from the trailer and closer to Chris' hoodie-covered frame.

Vinny tried to shrug. "I just needed some air. The pyro and shit was cooking me alive in there. I hadn't noticed how cold it is." He wanted to think he'd given a plausible explanation, despite the fact that he'd started to shiver uncontrollably.

"C'mere," Chris mumbled, tugging Vinny against him and wrapping him in his arms. Vinny didn't bother trying to resist the hug, or, a few seconds later, Chris tucking him under one arm to lead him back into the venue.

"Did something happen with you and Ricky?" Chris asked, voice low, as they walked back into the venue. "After... Uh, what I interrupted."

"No," Vinny muttered. Chris' bodyheat was sinking into his skin, calming the shivers a little bit. He didn't try to pull away, though, even as they passed crew and venue staff on the way to their green room. "I mean... well... nevermind."

"You know you can tell me anything, right? I won't judge you."

Vinny sighed. If Ricky was going to try and humiliate him, Vinny may as well rob him of the ammunition.

"Before what you walked in on happened, Ricky had grabbed my phone to get me to give him back the damn candy bar. But he saw a video I was watching, and kinda threatened to use it against me, I guess, if I didn't give him... uh... what he wanted. But then we started making out, and I thought we were on the same page, or whatever. But now, I'm not so sure. I think that I misread him."

Chris was frowning, eyes dark with concern as he looked at Vinny. "Use it against you, how? And for a candy bar? Seems a bit drastic."

"Not the candy bar. He said he wanted a blowjob, actually. I thought he was just kidding, trying to piss me off. But then... Everything else happened, and I thought we were both into it, more than just stress relief, or whatever, I don't know. But tonight, he... I think he might have been more serious about the threat than I thought. Not necessarily trying to get me to really do anything sexual, I mean, he's not a creep. But to get back at me for getting the upper hand earlier, maybe."

"And how would he do that?" Chris prompted after patiently listening to Vinny's rambling explanation.

"Tell you what I was watching, I guess," Vinny mumbled, with a shrug, looking up to see they'd reached their green room. He could hear familiar voices behind the half-open door.

Chris obviously had more questions, but he gave Vinny a little shake, pausing before entering the room. "Why don't you take advantage of the showers here? Get warmed up. You're still shivering."

Vinny nodded, then turned to Chris, saying in a rush; "It wasn't anything gross. It was a video of you, actually. I guess I'd rather tell you myself, than have him do it."

Then, face burning with embarrassment and eyes stinging with sudden tears, Vinny stepped out from under Chris' arm and into the green room. He caught Ricky looking at him from the corner of his eye, but he didn't stop or acknowledge the other man as he grabbed his bag and made his way to the bathroom.

The showers were individual cubicles and he gratefully locked himself inside of one. He scrubbed the paint and sweat from his skin under the mercifully hot water, then dried off and pulled on sweatpants and a hoodie. He felt better, body temperature back to normal and a bit of the weight off his chest after talking to Chris. He was pretty sure he could finish out the last few days on the road without having a mental breakdown, even. Pretty sure. At least until he opened the cubicle door to find Chris waiting for him.

He was leaning back against the sink, face clear of the remnants of his makeup, expression carefully neutral. Vinny could see his own face reflected in the large mirror behind Chris, the small frown above his red rimmed eyes, the way he was pressing his lips together, muscles in his jaw twitching.

"I talked to Ricky," Chris said, without preamble. His voice betraying even less that his face.

"Yeah?" Vin tried hard to be casual, rubbing his damp towel over his dripping hair.

"I have a question."

Vinny slumped back against the partition between cubicles, letting his bag drop to the floor at his feet, still halfheartedly trying to dry his curls. He made a motion with his chin, to indicate that Chris can ask his question.

The older man tucked his hands into his pants pockets, eyes dropping down to the middle distance between them.

"The video... was that just, general interest in guys that you're exploring? Or was it more specifically... me?"

"That's two questions," Vin mumbled, then kept talking before Chris could reply. "I've been exploring my general interest in guys since highschool, so..." He shrugged, looking down at the damp towel in his hands.

"But... What about Ricky, then?"

Vin scrunched the towel into a ball, squeezing the damp material until his knuckles turned white. "It's possible to find multiple people attractive at the same time."

There was a soft sound as Chris shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Yeah. I guess it is." There was amusement in his voice and Vinny looked up to see a small smile on Chris' face. He was still not looking at Vinny, keeping his eyes on the cracked tiles between them. "I guess it is," he repeated, quietly, like he was sharing some joke with himself.

"So, if we're done here," Vinny cleared his throat, twisting the much abused towel between his hands, as if to wring water from it, before tossing it over his shoulder.

"Wait, I just -", Chris took a step forward, one hand outstretched to halt Vinny's escape. His smile had faded, dark eyes meeting Vin's for the first time. "I wanted to say... God, I don't know. That I don't mind?"

"Cool," Vinny's voice was small. He bent forward to lift up his bag, but Chris' tattooed hand grabbed his before he could reach it. He jerked upright, to find Chris had closed the distance between them to step into Vinny's personal space, closer even that he'd been outside by the bus. Looking up, Vinny could have counted the taller man's eyelashes, except that Chris cupped his cheeks and pressed his lips to Vin's with exquisite softness and Vin lost the ability to form any coherent thought. The kiss was warm and chaste and Vin breathed a small sigh against Chris' lips, one hand reaching up to curl into the soft fabric of the Beetlejuice hoodie Chris was wearing.

Chris slid his palm down over Vinny's chest, to curl around his waist. He kept the kiss unhurried, even as Vin's lips parted for him to explore further, curling his tongue against Vinny's in a slow, teasing promise of things to come. Vinny heard himself moan, low in his throat, as he moved up onto his tiptoes, pressing closer against Chris' warmth.

Pulling away from Vinny's lips, Chris trailed kisses across his jaw, pausing to give his earlobe a kitten lick that had Vinny's skin erupting in goosebumps.

"God, Vin," Chris' voice was husky in his ear, "do you have any idea what I'd like to do to you?" More kisses trailed across his jaw, then down to the side of his throat, where Chris trailed the very tip of his tongue over Vinny's pulse point.

"Please," Vinny breathed, high and needy, one hand in a deathgrip around Chris' hoodie, the other coming up to tug at the short purple strands of Chris' hair.

Chris made a sound, somewhere between a groan and a laugh, and pressed his lips to Vinny's again, the kiss hungrier than before. He slid both large hands down over Vinny's back to cup his ass, grinding their hips together in a movement that had both of them gasping into each other's mouths. Chris rolled his hips, the same slow, deliberate movements he'd made on stage, only now it was for Vinny's benefit alone. Each languid thrust undid a little more of Vinny's inhibition, until he was rutting back against Chris, moans falling from his parted lips, their open mouths no longer kissing so much as sharing uneven breaths.

"Fuck," the expletive sounded torn from Chris' throat, and without warning he fell to his knees in front of Vinny, eyes dark as he looked up to ask, "May I?"

Vinny couldn't form a coherent thought, much less words, at the sight of Chris on his knees for him. He did his best to nod, hands trembling as ran his fingers lightly through Chris' short hair, being careful not to tug, however much he might have wanted to. Chris pulled at the waistband of Vinny's sweatpants, making a quiet sound of approval at the fact that there was no underwear in his way, as he wrapped long fingers around Vinny's hard length. Vinny had always been fine with how perfectly average his cock was, didn't spend his life obsessing over it like some guys seemed to. So, the effect the sight of Chris' large hand dwarfing him had was unexpected, making his breath catch in his throat, a curl of hot shame forming in his belly. Except, instead of putting him off, the humiliation only turned him on even more. His grip tightened on the purple hair, wordlessly urging Chris on. Vinny's breath was coming in short sharp gasps and he didn't think he'd last long enough for Chris to even begin stoking his cock properly, but somehow he managed to keep control of himself, even as Chris leaned in to lick at the precum leaking from his tip. He moaned at that, letting his head fall back for only a second, before looking down again, not wanting to miss a single second of the sight of Chris stretching his full lips around Vinny's cock.

It was an embarrassingly short time before Vinny felt the familiar tightening of his impending orgasm. He tugged harder on Chris' hair, to try and pull him away.

"I'm gonna... Please, Chris, I'm gonna cum... I'm -" the words were interspersed with little moans as Chris just swallowed him down even deeper, the head of Vinny's cock hitting the back of his throat.

Vinny couldn't hold back any longer, a keening moan escaping his lips as he came so hard he could see stars behind his tightly shut eyelids. Chris didn't pull away until he'd gotten every last drop from Vinny, given his softening cock slow little licks until Vinny jerked away, painfully oversensitive. He pulled up Vinny's sweats before rising to his feet, letting Vinny pull him in for a lazily, fuck-drunk kiss.

It took a few seconds for the thought of returning the favor to even occur in Vinny's scrambled brain, and he reached for Chris' waistband, wanting to touch, to reciprocate, but Chris caughts his wrists. He pulled away from the kiss to look up at the other man. Chris gave a small smile and shook his head.

"We need to get back to the bus, we're gonna be missed soon."

"But," Vinny started, and was silenced with a quick kiss.

"It's fine," Chris said. "Come on, let's go."

And with a last press of his lips to Vinny's, Chris turned and walked away, hands burrowing into his pockets, leaving Vinny behind, confused and disappointed.

#band fanfiction #miw #miw band #miw fanfic #miw fic #motionless in white #motionless in white fic #band rpf #chris motionless #ricky olson #vinny mauro #vinny x chris #vinny mauro x chris motionless #band fic #bandom #real person fiction #motionless in white fanfiction #miw fanfiction

[fanfic-for-multifandoms]

Our Plans May Change But Our Hearts Remain {Nick Folio x reader}

First Bad Omens fic!

Warnings: Angst that turns a into a bit of fluff at the end. 

Nick folio x Female reader

It had been years since Nick had seen the only girl he'd ever truly loved.

He had no idea what she would think when she saw him. After all, he had left her with no explanation, he left without ever saying goodbye. They were seventeen when he joined Bad Omens. They had plans. She knew he loved music but never thought he'd up and leave her without a word, but neither of them ever forgot about the other. They never forgot the love they had for each other. Even their parents knew they'd eventually find each other again.

No matter how much he thought of her, he could never bring himself to send her a message. The guilt of just up and leaving her was too much, but he knew he couldn't tell her he was leaving because one "stay" from her mouth, and he knew he would never be able to get on that flight. He hated leaving her like that, but he didn't even know how to say goodbye. How do you tell the love of your life that you are leaving and won't see them for a long time? He knew she listened to his band. She still followed him on every social media account. But he could never bring himself to message her.

He still remembered every little thing about her—the things she loved, the way she talked, all the little things she was so passionate about—he remembered the nights they would stay up late and talk about music and how they wanted to travel the world together. No matter how many people he met or how many girls he found, none of them could compare to her, and she felt the same even now when they are both musicians only in two different places in their careers—her band just starting to take off and his none stop touring.

She still loved him even all this time later. She never got the closer she wanted, the closer she needed. All she knew was that he had taken off. She loved her job, but doing it reminded her of all the promises Nick had made her when they were seventeen: how they were going to be famous and travel the world, or how he was going to marry her and they would be together forever. She always wanted to message him just to see if he would respond, but knowing his busy schedule, he probably wouldn't even have a chance to look at it, but it was worth a shot. She didn't know if he was in his hometown or even if he would want to go, but her band was playing their first sold-out show, and she wanted him there.

 She knew it was a long shot, but she sent the message anyway: "Hey, idk if you are in town or not, but my band is playing our first sold-out show, and they told me I could invite however many people I wanted, and I thought it would be nice to have my childhood best friend there. If you can't make it, that's understandable, but it would be nice if you were there." After she sent him that message, she put her phone down and left it in a different room. She was so nervous about his response that she couldn't even look at her phone.

A few hours later, she picked up her phone to call her best friend and saw a message back from Nick, and her heart stopped. She took a moment to read it. "Hey, I would love to be there; my only question is if I'm allowed to bring some people with me." She was so relieved to see he actually even saw her message. She hadn't talked to him in 5 years and thought he wouldn't want to talk to her at all, but here she is having a conversation with him, even if it's small.

After talking back and forth about the show and her band, she decided to go to bed. The show was in a couple of days, so she decided to take the next few days leading up to chill and go into town. She was hanging out in her house and about to leave when she got a message from Nick asking if they could meet up before the show if she was in town. After talking for a bit, they decided to meet up at a restaurant not far from where she was staying. To say she was nervous was an understatement, but she powered through her drive there.

As she pulled into the parking lot, she saw Nick standing outside. He really hadn't changed that much. She still saw the boy she fell in love with years ago. His hair was different, but aside from that, he was still the same. He greeted her with a hug. Something she wasn't really expecting but was more than happy to receive. They went inside and took a seat in one of the booths. They were facing each other; it reminded her of the dates they used to go on as teenagers. He would always sit across from her and hold her hand under the table. It made her a bit sad. She didn't know much about him anymore. She didn't know if he had a girlfriend or what his favorite color was. It used to be blue, but she doubted it was still that. 

After the waitress came over and got their drink order, they started talking. "So, how's life?" Nick asked her, "Pretty good? Me and my band have worked hard to get to this point, and I'm pretty glad our first sold-out show could be in our hometown. How about you?" She looked him in the eyes for the first time. She always loved his eyes, and one look from him made her knees weak. "It's been good. I never thought we would get to this point; we just headlined our first tour. I never knew you wanted to be a metal vocalist. I always knew you would play guitar but never thought you'd be a lead vocalist." "I never planned on it, but sometimes plans change. Our first vocalist quit, and I had been doing the backup vocals, and the rest of the band thought it would be good if I just started doing lead. I never thought I could do it, but here we are. I didn't know you listened to my band.”

"Of course I do; why wouldn't I?" He questions, "I don't know. Anyway, you've got a girlfriend or something?" She asks, hoping the answer is no. No, I tried that but couldn't bring myself to stop loving you." He looks down as he speaks as if ashamed. "Then why did you leave if you loved so much?" she murmured, now finally feeling the anger over what he had done. "Because I knew if I came to you, I wouldn't be able to leave," he explained. "Is that supposed to make me feel better? I spent years thinking you hated me when you first left. I couldn't get out of bed for a week. I couldn't understand what I did wrong. I wouldn't have asked you to stay. I know that music is your passion. Why would I have stopped you from that?"

He looked away from her as she ranted, not wanting to look her in the eyes until she said one thing that made his heart stop: "I still love you." He looked at her, finally meeting her eyes. "I never stopped. I couldn't even bring myself to hate you after you left." She started tearing up. Her voice was begining to break. She looked down as Nick began to speak. "I never stopped loving you either. Every day I regret leaving you. I don't even know why I thought it was better to leave without seeing you than to tell you what had happened. She cut him off to say, "I had to find out from your mom." She speaks quietly, "I know, and I'm so fucking sorry. I hate that I did that." "Then why didn't you reach out?" She says, "I was ashamed. I lost the love of my life by my own doing." She doesn't speak much more after that. They finish their lunch, and as they are leaving, he walks with her to her car and says, "I want you to know I truly do regret my decision every fucking day."

"I miss my best friend." She speaks, looking at the ground, not wanting to face him: "I miss you too; I don’t want to keep living without you." He is hesitant, but he reaches out without one hand and lifts her face to look at him. She looks him in the eyes and starts to tear up again. "I don't want to keep living without you." He wiped away the tears that were now falling down her face, trying not to tear up himself."I don't either," she whispered. They stand for a moment, just looking into each other's eyes.

She reaches out and intertwines their hands before leaning in and kissing him. Realizing she still feels the same way about him as she did five years ago, she pulls back. "I'm sorry," she says, looking down at the ground again. "Don't be. If you hadn't done that, I was going to." He steps closer to her leaving her back pressed against her car and leans in to kisses her as she wraps her arms around his neck. He kisses her as if he is making up for all the years he's been away from her, finally pulling back to catch their breath. "Where are you staying?" he asks her.

A/N

Part 2?? I quite enjoyed writing this so if yall want a part 2 lmk

As always feedback is welcomed so if there is anything I can work on lmk

#bad omens #bad omens fic #nick folio #nick folio fic #bad omens fanfiction #bandom fic

[tranzombie]

i just finished the second volume of unholyverse i didn’t know it was THIS good

the only thing i didn’t like was how mean patrick was :(( he’s such a nice person irl

#mcr #fob #fall out boy #gerard way #my chemical romance #patrick stump #uhv #unholyverse #fanfiction #bandom #emo trinity #staring through demons

[venomwolves]

'Hey Mikey,' says Pete, from the doorway back into the house. He's silhouetted there, a warm shadow against warmer light. It's such a soft tableau but. Patrick scrambles off the sofa and back into the house. Patrick has a bad habit of letting Pete handle things he doesn't know how to deal with.

garage ink by Trojie

#patrick stump #pete wentz #mikey way #rpf #fanfiction #bsb2023 #challenge #fall out boy #my chemical romance #fob art #mcr art #bandom

[cherylmustdie]

band fanfictions are on of the very few things that keeping me alive<3

but they're also ruining me so...

#mcr fanfiction #frerard fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #frerard #mcr #my chemical romance #mychemicalromancefanfiction #petekey #bandom #bandom fanfic

[the-way-of-words]

✨MasterList✨

Bad Omens Fic

Series

PolyVerse // Noah Sebastian x Holly (OFC) x Nick Ruffilo

A Friend In The Dark // Noah Sebastian Horror AU

Part One

~~~~~~~~~~

Nick Folio

All We've Got's Tonight

Sing A Song For California

Flustered

Joakim "Jolly" Karlsson

Like Branches In A Flood

Now I'm Lost In The Moment

Mouthful ft Noah Sebastian and Nicholas Ruffilo

Noah Sebastian

If That's The Best That I Could Be, Then I'd Be Another Memory

We'll Try Again, When We're Not So Different

You Can Have The Best Of Me

Violet

You Drive Me Crazy

You Will Not Be Mine, So Give Me The Night

Oh What A Pretty Thing ft. Nicholas Ruffilo

Nicholas Ruffilo

Let's Talk About Chemistry

I Was Free In The Fall

#masterlist #bandom fic #rpf #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fanfiction

[fishwithtitz]

As I move through writing some drabbles, I'm curious to see what the preference of readers is on point of view. Hopefully I included enough of the basics (but my apologies if I missed any).

Reblog to send this far and wide!

#ghost band #ghost bc #the band ghost #ghost band fanfic #ghost fandom #ghost bandom #ghost fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reblog okay

[bandomsummer]

Interested in BSB, but just want to watch?

#bandom summer blowout 2023 #bsb 2023 #mcr fanfiction #frerard #waycest #frikey #fraycest

[bunni-writing-desk]

hiii!! do i think you could possibly do one shots of pete wentz n mikey way (poly relationship) with a s/o who goes mute when they r rlly stressed or overstimulated or have just had a shitty day— kinda just how they make the reader feel better n how they handle it, yknow that typa stuff—

if not thats a-ok!!!!!!!!! i don’t mind :]

sure, I'm not sure if you meant headcanons or a oneshot? so I just wrote headcanons based on what you said in your ask :] if you wanted a oneshot I can rewrite it though

Pete, Mikey, and a Mute Sensory Overloaded Reader

Pete Wentz x gn!Reader x Mikey Way

not era specific

WARNINGS: mentions of meltdown

I think Mikey is the first to realize, he's had a fair share of being pretty silent and being overwhelmed that he can recognize it in someone pretty quickly. Plus he's fairly in tune with reading someone, especially you.

He definitely immediately tries to get you whatever you need, handing you your communication cards almost as soon as you walk into the room he's in

it will take a few minutes for Pete to realize what's happening, only picking it up when Mikey hands you the communication cards.

Pete gets sort of anxious about these things, worried he's going to make it worse somehow. You've reassured him that he doesn't make it worse but he still get anxious about it.

I think Mikey is a lot more level headed with this and will probably do a lot of more practical things (making sure you have your cards and are using them when needed, turning off anything that's too bright or making too much noise, etc)

While Pete is the type to just do whatever Mikey says to do, like getting things or making things. You need blankets? Already being thrown on top of you on the couch. You need one of your comfort foods? He's already making it just how you like it (he practiced even if it's a really simple thing to make) You need him to get you something from the store? Which store cause he's on his way there STAT.

These two are doing everything in their power to make you comfortable.

Personally I'm more prone to meltdowns when I get home after being overstimulated all day/having a bad day + not being able to communicate makes it worse so I feel like they would have some preparations for that

if you cry a lot during meltdowns they have a cols bottle of water just waiting for you when you catch your breath enough to drink

if you don't like touch during meltdowns they're more than okay with giving you your space

if you're not likely to have meltdowns they'd still be prepared just in case you do start crying though.

If you like pressure to help calm you down Pete would go get your weighted blanket (that they bought you) as quickly as possible and they the two would lay on top of your stomach and chest to give more pressure

if you can't handle touch or anything like that while in this state they are A-OK giving you other things to hold onto like blankets and stuffed animals and your security items

All in All they're trying their best to get you through this and doing whatever you need at that moment from running a bath to just putting on your comfort TV show.

#mikey way x reader #pete wentz x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #mikey way x pete wentz #petekey #mikey way x gn reader #pete wentz x gn reader #pete wentz x gender neutral reader #mikey way x gender neutral reader #rpf #bandom fanfic #fall out boy fanfiction #fob fanfic #mcr fanfiction #my chemical romance fanfic #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #poly fic #fluff #poly headcanons #headcanons #imagines #pete wentz fanfic #pete wentz fic #mikey way fanfic #mikey way fic #mikey way x you #pete wentz x you

[ohabigailhowcouldyou]

Candy... ~pt 1~

Being away from home sucked. Being stuck on a bus with a dozen smelly men sucked. Not having any Starburst left sucked.

Vinny groaned and rolled out of his bunk to head to the kitchenette for something sugary, bumping shoulders with Chris as he reached for Ricky's secret stash of chocolate.

"He's gonna know it's you," Chris teased, popping a raspberry into his mouth. A raspberry, Vinny thought, of all things. Couldn't the man find some vegan candy to snack on. Did it have to be something so... healthy?

"He can suck my dick," Vinny retorted, "I need sugar."

Chris raised an eyebrow, picking out another berry from his container. Without giving it conscious thought, Vinny plucked it from the taller man's fingers.

"Hey!" Chris protested, his dark eyes following the fruit's path past Vinny's lips. Vinny smirked, winked at Chris, and strolled back toward the bunks without a backward glance.

The sweetness of the raspberry lingered on Vinny's tongue, and he put the stolen candy bar aside for later. He pulled out his phone, opening Twitter -no way would he ever call it X- to mindlessly scroll until dinner time. The first thing he saw, however, chased any thought of food from his mind. He had, of course, seen this in person from a different angle while playing, but the video of Chris rolling his hips in a dirty dance with his micstand was definitely worth watching. Several times. As good as he looked from behind, there was something utterly spectacular about seeing not only Chris' body, but his face, too. Lost in the music, dimple showing as he all but snarled the lyrics, Chris was beautiful. This wasn't the first time Vinny had noticed it; touring together for a decade had given him plenty of opportunity to admire his bandmates' good looks, Chris included. It was different now though, as one of the biggest tours they've ever done was winding down, and they'd all been living like sardines for weeks now, almost no privacy, no chance for hook-ups to relieve some of the pent up frustration coiling under their skin. Arguments had been getting more frequent, tempers simmering in the Fall air, everyone on a hair trigger.

As if Vinny's spiralling thoughts had summoned him, the curtain covering his bunk was yanked aside to reveal Ricky's scowling face. Vinny quicky lowered his phone to his chest to hide the screen, plucking his Airpod out of one ear.

"Give it back," Ricky demanded, eyes dark as thunderclouds.

"Give what back?" Vinny played coy, blinking at his friend.

"The candy bar, Vin. The last dark chocolate one."

"I don't know what you're talking -" Vinny started to say, trying to surreptitiously move the candy bar lying next to him out of sight, but the movement drew Ricky's sharp eyes at just the wrong moment.

"You motherfucker," Ricky growled, leaning into Vinny's bunk to reach for the chocolate.

"Dude!" Vinny protested, shoving his hand with the candy bar under his body. Ricky had all but crawled into Vinny's bunk, his sharp elbow digging into Vin's stomach, one knee sliding against Vinny's thigh. Vinny tried to twist away from the smaller man, whose searching fingers brushed dangerously close to Vin's crotch, still tight from the video he'd been looping seconds ago.

"Just give it back, you dick." Ricky's breath was warm on Vinny's cheek.

"Watch your tongue, Richard," Vinny mocked, squirming under Ricky's hands, he could feel the candy bar get squashed under his hip.

"Fuck you," it was a snarl, Ricky's low voice close to his ear, and the sound made goosebumps erupt across Vinny's skin. For a second, Ricky went still, then without warning, he plucked Vinny's phone from his slack grip.

"No!" Vinny protested, fingers grabbing at Ricky's delicate wrist.

"What, were you watching porn or something?" There was a mocking quality to Ricky's voice. He twisted against Vinny's hold on him to turn the phone's screen toward himself, the Werewolf video still looping, keeping the screen from locking like it would have otherwise. Ricky's eyebrows shot up, lips parting in surprise.

"Close enough," he said, dark amusement in his tone.

Vinny could feel the heat of a blush on his cheeks. He tightened his grip on Ricky's wrist, feeling the other man's pulse against his calloused fingertips.

"Give back my phone, or you're not gonna enjoy playing the next show with broken wrist." Vinny had only rarely heard himself speak like that, low and threatening.

For a second, the two men sized each other up, pent up frustration and anger shimmering in the air between them like a heatwave over concrete.

"You don't have it in you, Vincenzo," Ricky finally broke the silence, that dark edge still in his husky voice.

Vin leaned up on one elbow, and slowly pressed down on his friend's wrist, harder and harder, until he could feel the bones grinding together. It had to have hurt, but Ricky only curled his lip in an empty smile, icy gaze not wavering from Vin's face. Finally, it became too much, and Vinny let go. Ricky was right, he didn't have it in him to hurt someone, least of all a friend. For a second, something deeper that anger flashed across Ricky's face, followed by a hiss of air through his teeth as he wiggled Vin's phone to flex his wrist.

Vinny tossed the candy bar, a little the worse for wear, in Ricky's direction. "Give me back my phone."

Ricky held it out to him, but snatched it back at the last second as Vinny reached for it.

"On second thought... Maybe it's a fair exchange? If this is what you're watching, alone in your bunk, what other dirty secrets wait to be discovered?"

Something cold trailed down Vinny's spine. "Stop fucking around, Rick. Give it back."

Ricky raised an eyebrow, thumb swiping at the screen, closing the video of Chris to show his twitter feed again.

Vinny grabbed at him again, but Ricky was faster this time, folding his arm behind him, where Vinny couldn't reach, confined by his bunk and Ricky's slight form.

"What about a different trade? I'll even throw in the candy bar, if that'll sweeten the deal."

"What do you want?" Vin asked, impatient with annoyance.

Ricky's lips curled in a frightening simile of a smile.

"I want a blow job."

For the tiniest fraction of a second, Vinny felt the swoop of the Earth tilting on its axis below him, before he managed to get a handle on his reaction to Ricky's blunt words.

"Oh, sorry," he said, voice sour. "You must be mistaking me for a groupie. I'm not."

"You sure about that?" Ricky's low, quiet voice was mocking. "Let's see, shall we? Aside from that dirty video you were just watching, what else could be on your phone to prove you wrong?"

"Stop fucking around, Rick," Vinny repeated, knowing the moment the words left his lips that he'd fucked up, giving himself away.

Ricky's expression was triumphant as he brought Vinny's phone out from behind his back. Vinny, using reflexes built up over decades behind a drum kit, swung out of his bunk and onto his feet, letting his momentum crash him into the smaller man. One hand again seized the wrist of the hand holding his phone, while his other fisted around the collar of Ricky's black t-shirt, shoving him back against the opposite wall of bunks.

Ricky exhaled in clear shock at Vinny's reaction, eyes wide, free hand grabbing at Vinny's shoulder as he was crushed between the drummer and the bunks behind him.

"I told you to. Stop. Fucking. Around. Ricky." Vinny hissed each word in Ricky's face, grip tightening cruelly on Ricky's wrist, not letting up this time, even as Ricky made a pained noise, trying to pull free.

Except...

Several things registered in Vinny's overheating brain at the same time. While Ricky was trying to pull his one arm free, his other hand had found its way to the back of Vinny's neck, fingertips tangling in the curls there. And Ricky's body, where it was pressed against Vinny's from shoulder to knee, wasn't straining away from him, but toward him. The last thing Vinny realized before his mind completely short circuited, was that Ricky was hard, as hard as Vinny himself was.

He couldn't say who moved first, only that they both froze for an endless moment before they were kissing. It wasn't sweet or gentle, lips and tongues and teeth clashing in a sloppy, messy fight for control over each other. Vinny gave as good as he got, releasing Ricky's collar to curl his fingers around that beautifully tattooed throat, and Ricky moaned, filthy and shameless, into his mouth, moving his hips against Vinny's with increasing desperation.

Panting for breath, Vinny was the one who broke the kiss, to trail his lips and tongue down over Ricky's sharp jaw, to explore the skin of his throat, moving his hand around to cup the back of Ricky's neck. How many times had he let his gaze linger over the inked skin, wondering what this would feel like? What his friend would taste like? No fantasy he'd ever had could hold a candle to the reality of Ricky's pulse thundering against his lips, the sweet, salt taste of him as Vinny dragged his tongue over his adam's apple, the little gasping noises Ricky made when Vinny bit down over his jugular.

Ricky's hand, knotted in Vinny's hair, tugged painfully to bring Vinny's mouth back to his own, where he bit down sharply on Vin's bottom lip, drawing a growl from his throat. Vinny pinned Ricky's arm that he was still holding above Ricky's head, tugging the man's other hand up to join it. He easily circled both Ricky's wrists with the fingers of one of his hands, plucking his phone out of Ricky's grip and sliding it into his pocket, before curling his arm around Ricky's waist and down, to cup his ass. As slight as Ricky was, Vinny's fingers could easily seek out every denim-covered dip and valley.

Even like this, pinned and trapped, Ricky didn't back down, nipping painfully at Vinny's lips and tongue, until Vinny pulled his head back, grinning.

"Sucks to be you, huh?" He asked.

Ricky frowned, breathless and flushed. "What?"

"You're not getting that blow job after all," Vinny said, matter-of-factly. "And you don't have anything left to blackmail me with."

"I don't..." Ricky blinked slowly, as if his brain was only just catching up to the situation. His eyes flickered up to where Vinny was still pinning his empty hands above his head. "Oh."

Vinny had expected anger, hot and acidic, so the look of bleak disappointment that flashed over Ricky's face caught him completely off guard. Ricky tugged against his grip, not meeting his eyes, but Vinny didn't release him.

"Let go, Vin," Ricky said, the fight gone from his voice, from his body, still hard where it pressed against Vinny's, only now held rigidly still.

Vinny didn't. Instead he leaned forward, trying to get Ricky to meet his eyes. A quick questioning glance was all he got, before Ricky looked away again, lids lowered. "Let go," he repeated.

For a second, Vinny debated with himself on what to do, then slowly, he pulled his arm from around Ricky and released his grip on the other man's wrists. Ricky let his arms fall, an almost silent sigh escaping his lips. Instead of stepping away, Vinny brought both hands up to cup Ricky's face. He got a glimpse of wide blue eyes, before he closed his own and leaned in to kiss Ricky again.

It was very different from the angry, biting kisses they'd shared minutes ago. This was slow and sweet, Ricky's lips parting for him without a fight, letting their tongues tangle and taste each other together. He felt Ricky's hands resting lightly on his sides, not demanding, just touching in a way that had Vinny's heart squeeze painfully against his ribs.

If it were up to him, Vinny would have spent the rest of his life right there, kissing the man in his arms. Unfortunately, it wasn't up to him, or Ricky for that matter.

"Guys, have you - oh shit." Chris' voice pulled them apart, and Vinny turned to see him standing, wide eyed, in the narrow doorway between the bus' lounge and the bunk area. "Fuck, I'm not sure what I just interrupted, but uh... I'm sorry?"

Vinny was mildly surprised that they hadn't been interrupted much earlier, but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He gave Ricky a quick smile as he stepped away from him. He hoped that it conveyed what he couldn't put into words right then. The tiny smirk on Ricky's lips made him think that his message had been conveyed at least somewhat successfully.

He answered Chris while he scooped the abandoned candy bar off the floor. "I was just paying for this."

♡♡♡

Read part 2 here

♡♡♡

#band fanfiction #miw #miw band #miw fanfic #miw fic #motionless in white #motionless in white fic #ricky olson #ricky x vinny #ricky olson x vinny mauro #vinny mauro #vinny x ricky #vinny mauro x ricky olson #motionless in white fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #band rpf #band fic #bandom

[fanfic-for-multifandoms]

Dancing Like Flames (Nicholas Ruffilo)

Nicholas Ruffilo x female reader

Warnings: Alcohol mentions and a lot of angst at the end. (Sorry)

"You're so beautiful," Nicholas spoke as they lay in bed. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, or perhaps he was just that in love with the captivating women that lay in front of him. She smiled up at him, and his heart melted. No matter how many times he sees her bright smile, it will never fail to make his stomach turn as if it were the first time they had met all over again. She's the only person he has ever felt comfortable being vulnerable around. She has such a calming energy about her. "You're my everything," she whispered to him as if they were in a crowded room and only wanted him to hear. She thought about all the time they had spent together, then thought about the future and how this was her dream growing up.

Four years they've been together, and she still can't comprehend how she got someone as wonderful as Nick. He was perfect in every way; every part of him she loved, and he felt the same. Maybe it was because she didn't have a good example of love growing up, so she sought love from all the wrong people until she found her forever. She thought of all the times they danced in their living room, swaying back and forth to whatever song was playing. She thought of the time he took her out to the middle of nowhere so they could watch a meteor shower. Boy, did he know how to play her heart. By this point, he knew everything about her. Her likes, her dislikes—he knew what turned her on and definitely used that to his advantage, but she loved it, the nights they would spend pushing each other to their limits, ecstasy coursing through their veins before finally cuddling up to one another and falling asleep in each other's arms.

The late-night drives, when neither of them could sleep, Nick was driving and she was in the passenger's seat. Him switching between holding her hand and resting his hand on her thigh. He always gave her butterflies when he did that. Their relationship was perfect. Sure, there was some bickering here and there, but they never really fought. They never raised their voices at each other. It was clear not just to them but to everyone around them that they were meant to be together. She didn't know if she believed in soulmates until she met Nicholas. He changed her mind about that and a lot of other things.

They lay staring at one another. "I don't know how I got so lucky with you," he says softly as he moves his hand to hold her face. She closes her eyes as she snuggles closer to him. "I love you," she whispers to him. He was her escape, the person she knew she could turn to when things got bad. Most times, they'd lie together and just look into each other's eyes, like they could communicate with each other with just one look and know exactly what the other was saying. She could never pinpoint exactly what made her so infatuated with him—maybe it was his smile or his undeniable good looks. Perhaps it was his eyes; it was like they held the universe. She always found his eyes so beautiful. Their relationship felt like a dream, and she never wanted to wake up from him being the first and last face she saw each day.

She had never had the best luck with relationships, but something about Nick just made sense from the moment she met him. Everything just came easy; he made her feel things she had never felt before. "This is what love is supposed to be," she thought often, knowing that this was the love she never received, the love she always craved, the kind of attention she had always wanted but never got. She would have never guessed when they first got together that he could have changed her as much as he did. She was happy now; she was confident.

They lay in bed together, and the euphoric feeling was something she always felt with him. It was a feeling she couldn't really explain; it was like a feeling of pure love. It kind of felt like they were floating high up in the sky, but she never wanted to go back to the ground. How can you love someone this much? Her body was overwhelmed sometimes just from the pure love and joy she got from Nicholas.“I love you so much.” he whispered back to her.

 Even though it was a small moment, it felt like a dream—something unreal, something she wished she could stay in for all eternity. She wanted it to be reality so bad.

But it was not real; she was just dreaming, remembering the moments she once spent with him asleep in the bed they spent many nights in together, alone in the apartment once occupied by two. After a couple of weeks, she decided that even if she didn't feel good, she could try to make herself feel better. She went out a couple of times, but nothing numbed the pain, so she just pretended. Fake it till you make it, right? But even after three months, she has yet to numb the pain; she has stopped trying to fix it with alcohol because the pain would always return. "How could he throw away four years?" She has spent too many nights awake trying to come up with an answer to the question, but she has yet to find one. The nightmares, as she refers to them, were horrible. Not because they were necessarily bad, but because she would always wake up in tears, knowing these dreams were nothing but: dreams. Nicholas wasn’t there in bed next to her; his stuff didn't occupy the shelf space they would always bicker about; they didn't even break up over a fight. Honestly, she had no clue why they broke up; she felt completely blindsided by it and still can't seem to get over it.

She still defended him to no end; she wouldn't even let her friends speak poorly about him because, to her, he was still perfect. No matter how badly he hurt her, he still had her wrapped around his finger, and she still clung to the idea that one day he would come back to her. She clung to the idea that he might realize the mistake he had made and that he still loved her, but so far her hopes had fallen in vain. She could never hate him; he could set a fire and watch as it engulfed her in flames, and he would still have her heart. The memories are probably the worst; they won't fade, not one bit. The dreams of things they did together were so vivid that she sometimes wished she'd never wake up. not in a bad way; she just wished she could stay with the one she loved just a bit longer. She still feels like she is picking up the pieces of another life. How could one love someone so much, then not at all, in so little time? All the years they spent together disappeared like ghosts in the breeze. 

It felt like she had become a shell of herself, a void. All her friends noticed, and they tried to help her feel better. "There's plenty of fish in the sea," they would tell her, but she didn't want anyone else. All she wanted was Nick. She didn't know how she made it this long without him, how she continued to go out, how she was still breathing when he left her, and all she could do was lay in bed. 

“I still love you,” she whispered like he was still next to her, wishing she could hear him whisper it back.

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A/N:

As always feedback is more than welcome

Here is a little something I wanted to put out since I've yet to finish part two of my last fic.

<3

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