No, we have not forgotten or given up on this fic! The other author, Victor, has entirely lost their phone-- literally cannot fucking find it --and has been missing it since a few days after the last chapter upload. As soon as they find their phone or get a new one, we'll pick this back up, I promise!!
Chapter 4 of Bloody State, Beautiful People under the cut
CW: Mentions of drug use, Tommy being a nuisance, Wyatt, MC being horny on main, writers getting suddenly awkward about writing and forgetting how to write, alcohol mentions, Gerard being drunk onstage (since he would've been in 2003), yearning.
Pairing: Reader/(Bullets era)Gerard Way
Gender Pairing: M4M
The mall trip was way too long— but I did end up going to the restroom just to have a momentary breakdown over the fact that I literally stroked my fucking dick to the voice of the singer I’m about to see *on stage* tonight. Being gay isn’t why I’m going to hell, it’s what I did last night.
Once we got into the bar, my nerves were so much worse and I think I might have either been hard or my jeans were on wrong. Either way, skinnyjeans were a bad choice.
Tommy was walking by my side, glancing in my direction every two seconds. We were all chatting amongst ourselves.
“Hey man, relax, we're gonna have a great time right? What are you stressing about?” Tommy put his arm around my shoulder as he reached into his pocket. “If you need an extra boost to get yourself hyped, I got you covered my guy.”
Tommy handed me a little purple gummy.. Which I swiftly stuffed back into his pocket, with a weird look on my face.
“No, I’d rather *not* loose my shit while at this bar, I have a reputation to uphold as the dad of this friend group. Who else will keep you guys from— I dunno —fuckin’ the band members or some shit?” I rolled my eyes playfully.
Tommy just backed up slightly and grabbed the gummy to take for himself, shrugging before laughing a bit.
After ordering drinks, barely sipping on my overly fruity and sweet drink— because, no, I can’t handle the taste of alcohol —we watched as the band set up.
A guy with slightly greasy looking black hair was fixing the mic stand. I only knew the names of the members off of the CD case I had, I knew that Frank Iero was the rhythm guitarist, Ray Toro was the lead guitarist, Mikey Way was the bassist, Gerard Way wad the vocalist, and some blonde guy was the drummer.
“Wyatt, sit down they're starting!”
Wyatt was blocking the vein for just a split second as he came back with his drink. He let out a chuckle as he sat down.
“Are we *that* pumped to hear this band play guys?”
Tommy just nodded, probably already high on whatever the fuck. Beth hummed an enthusiastic yes as she played around with the wrapper from her straw. Lilith just shrugged, but she seemed pretty hyped too. Seeing a new band is always great, especially when you're with friends. I took another sip of my drink, trying not to remember my sins from last night, and just focus on having fun with friends.
A familiar sound filled the bar as the band started to get into their rhythm, getting ready to wow their audience. The groups around us quieted down for a moment as their attention adverted back to the stage when feedback came from the lead singers microphone.
“Hah.. uhm,” His eyes flick over to the speakers and he smiles awkwardly before glancing over the crowd. “Oops.. Sorry about that— Anyway. We’re My Chemical Romance! If you enjoy this, we’ll be outside by the uhm.. Weird-looking grey van with windows on the sides, selling our CDs!”
“Woo!! Michael McRomance!!”
Tommy yelled as he stood up. What the fuck.. I quickly covered his mouth and forced him back into his seat before giving the lead singer an awkward “sorry about him” look. Beth started loosing her shit laughing. Gerard took a deep breath and looked back at the drummer to start them off.
As the music started to fill the building, the band clicked into focus. I could feel the beat and basically *see* the rhythm. I recognized the song that they first started playing and my face lit up with a smile. *Vampires Will Never Hurt You.*
The atmosphere of the room was the most electric and focused I've seen a concert crowd, the band had immediately reeled their audience in with their music. My friends seemed to feel the same as I did, we were all in awe at the performance in front of us. The movements on stage, the sound coming from it felt like pure plasma from the level of energy.
A few songs passed, my friends and I were so hyped up the whole time. I found myself the happiest I've been in a while, singing along with the singer and bobbing my head to the beat. I could swear I made eye contact with the lead singer, Gerard, and almost passed away right then and there.
It was nearing the end of headfirst For Halos, and I swear Gerard kept looking at me. I’m probably just being weird and self-centered but it feels like his pretty hazel eyes are on me when they’re not off the crowd, closed, or on the other members.
The song came to an end and Gerard pointed in my direction and I was just so confused for a moment.
“This next song I’d like to bring up you, pretty boy, the one who seems to know all of these lyrics by heart,” Gerard’s pale and boney hand lifted up to point at one person in particular; me. “So come on up here.”
He was pointing at me. Holy fucking shit, Gerard Way just asked me to get on the stage. I maybe very slightly regretting that I jerked off to his voice because this makes that feel so much worse.
As I stand up on my shaky legs, my body felt like it wasn’t real. I stepped up on stage and instantly couldn’t help but notice the sheen of sweat on his face and neck. What I would give to lick— No, not going there. Nevermind, fuck it. I want to lick the sweat off his face and neck so damn bad.
“Hope you know this next song, pretty boy.”
He adjusted his microphone a bit and looked me up and down before the song started. Oh God.. I recognized it instantly. Honey, This Mirror Isn't Big Enough For The Two of Us.
CW: Wyatt, mentions of jorking it, mentions of eating disorders, gay yearning, Wyatt being down bad, Wyatt stealing things (for a good reason)
Pairing: Reader/(Bullets era)Gerard Way
Gender Pairing: M4M
“You bring the CD, you ray of absolute sunshine?” Wyatt asked while driving at the exact speed limit. I had the sneaking suspicion that he was going slow on purpose to bother me. Or trying to miss rush traffic— but it was only about 2:00-ish.
“Yeah, here. It’s the first one in there.” I hand Lilith my CD book since she’s in the passenger seat, waiting for her to put in the CD.
The music flooded the car and then flooded my mind with a persistent reminder of what I’d done last night to the singers voice. But, fuck, if Gerards voice wasn’t heavenly.
I wasn’t paying attention to the road anymore, closing my eyes, resting my head against the window, and letting the music take away my focus.,
The rhythm, the guitar, the drums, the vocals all flood my ears quickly. I've never really loved an album as much as I've loved this one, I think I'd kill to have another MCR album come out.
And we're going to see them in concert- they'll be right in front of us.. Beautiful music with fans all around screaming the lyrics with them.. concerts are something that would hype anyone up, but I've never felt this excited to go to one of the trashy free concerts in this city. I've never felt this excited when listening to a CD..
I've never fucking jacked off and edged to a CD and a singers voice before.. but damn..
Do these people know what their music is doing to people? Probably not. What if that concert's filled with weirdos and imbeciles like me?
After a while of being engulfed in my thoughts, I feel the van slow down and park, the sounds of the rain pick up but as I look up, I don’t see the bar but I see a café. Wyatt made us leave early for food. Of course.
“Alright, everyone. Time for some food so we don’t all get shitfaced in seconds.” Wyatt get out, helping Lilith in her absurd heels as Tommy laughed at Beth because she forgot an umbrella.
We all rushed into the café to escape the rain, sitting down in a booth tucked in the back of the building. It was quiet and nice, the place looked very clean for somewhere Wyatt brought us.
“Are we all paying or is this little outting getting paid for by Wyatt?” Beth smiled warmly at the dork who very obviously crushing on her.
“Oh- Uh- I’ll pay, yeah.” Christ almighty, this man can’t act normal around Beth to save his life. Lilith snickered and Tommy just sat and flipped through the menu.
Lilith had gotten a latte, sunny side up eggs, and small saugsage links. Tommy just got toast and over-medium eggs. Beth settled for sweet tea and a strawberry shortcake. Wyatt had orange juice and pancakes. Since I always hated going out to eat with friends— because I was expected to eat a normal portion —I got a latte, toast, and hashbrowns.
We all ate rather quickly, the clock nearest to our table read *4:29* and the concert was at *8:30. W*e were all going to the mall to look around until *7:30* so we could make the fourty-minute drive with about twenty minutes to spare.
Once we were parked in the shitty mall parkinglot, it dawned on me that I had no clue how Wyatt even *got* the tickets.
“Hey, Wyatt? When and where did you get these tickets? And how did you get *five*…?” We were all getting out of the van and Wyatt looked suddenly antsy. “… Wyatt?”
“So… There was a drunk guy in the bar I work at and he uh.. He was talking about these tickets he got for a concert and how he ‘accidentally’ bought five. He was creeping on some ladies so I stole the tickets when he wasn’t looking.”
“You’re no longer not allowed to barge into my apartment.” My words earned a big grin from the blonde dumbass himself.
Chapter 2 of Bloody State, Beautiful People under the cut
CW: MC is jorking his peanits, mentions of SH scars, bad descriptions of jorking, MC jorks to a CD, WYATT, sonic boxers, virus threat, mentions of a gun, !!NEW JERSEY!!, Auggie tagging the fic like an AO3 fic out of habit
Pairing: Reader/(Bullets era) Gerard Way
Gender Pairing: M4M
*10:57pm*. I should have been asleep but I couldn’t get fully comfortable, something just felt wrong. Eventually, I’d picked up a book I bought a while back that was essentially vampire erotica— In my defense, it’s better than any other vampire media could ever hope to be.
The scenes were vivid in my head; a beautiful, pale man with sharp fangs and lip piercings going down on a very twink-like human guy. And many, many more things I’m pretty sure I’d explode into pink gore-splatters if I dared to speak in any form. Essentially, the erotica was good.
My CD was still playing in the background, my rings and bracelets discarded next to the CD player. Usually I don’t use my hand, I’ve got fuck-buddies for a reason. But this felt like a time where it would’ve been best handled alone.
It’s surprisingly easy to forget— at least for a small moment —where your body is sensitive. For example, the second my thumb got near my glans, my lower back felt like a shock went through it. My hand glided well thanks to the copious amounts of precum already having formed and making things so much easier. Thankfully, the slick sounds of my palm against my surprisingly-pale dick were drowned out by, guess what? My Chemical Romance.
After a moment, I kind of lost my thoughts— which were absolutely not on any hot vampires —into the vocalist’s tone. The song was *Honey, This Mirror Isn’t Big Enough For The Two of Us* and it was flooding my mind. Fucking hell, his voice hit the notes in the most beautiful way possible and it made my head swim more than any weird vampire porn book could.
For a second, I didn’t even realise I’d picked up the pace with my hand until a quiet moan slipped out from my parted lips. Shit, I never thought I’d find myself jerking off to a CD but it was working better than I wanted it to. Who am I kidding? If I can get off, go to bed, and go see that concert, I think I’m glad this is working so well. Speaking of, my stomach felt tight already.
Did this make me a bad person? Jerking off to some random singers voice?- No, that was for future me to worry about. The song slowed down momentarily, only for the line “and you can cry all you want to, I don’t—” before it sped up again at “—Care how much you invest yourself in me, we’re not working out.”
Despite the back-of-the-mind worry, it felt wrong to finish before the *song* had finished out. After all, the ending was one of the ones that made my spine tingle every time I heard it. I could push myself a bit longer. So I tried. My hand slowed down and my stomach felt less tight.
I’ve never really edged myself before so I have no clue how it’ll feel in the end. Hopefully good. Pretty quickly I began to notice that there was already differences; my hips felt twitchy and I kept getting a shiver up my spine. My usually quiet session was cut in by what I will woefully describe as whimpers.
A long-ish moan left my mouth as I tilted my head back against my headboard and closed my eyes, one of my legs pulling up a bit. I never really enjoy my own hand very much but edging fixed that quickly.
The ending of the song was approaching, clear by the overlapping vocals and repeated line. I quickened my hand, now being able to faintly hear my strokes just under the sounds of my moans and the music. How could any man have such a fucking perfect voice? I’m going to hell for this. If nothing else, then for cumming from some singer.
Just as the song ended, my thighs tensed, back tightened and I let out a shaky, broken moan. I had known it would feel different to cum from this than just the nomal pacing through to the end but I didn’t know it would make my mind get a bit fuzzy. I absolutely need to try that again sometime, maybe with someone. I made the smart choice to be on a towel during this so there’d be no sleeping without sheets tonight. But, fuck, there was a mess.
Oh holy shit. No, I just got off to a strangers voice. That’s bad, right? Like, really bad? It probably is. Actually, it definitely is. Okay, no, no more thinking about the morality of the situation. Hormones and all that jazz. It’s just what my body decided had to happen. It’s over. No more dwelling on it.
The morning came way too quick— unlike me last night —and I could’ve slept an extra hour or two. So I did. I ignored my alarm and laid my happy ass right back down.
My dream, however, had other plans in terms of sleep so I ended up with a— guess what kind of dream? A nightmare! Get your mind out of the fucking gutter, it wasn’t a wet dream unless you’re into getting shot while working at a gas station. But Jersey is a different level of weird people so you very well might be.
I woke up fully at 1:30pm which was actually pretty average for me on Saturdays. Though, without an alarm I end up waking up to a noise but there was no birds at my window like usual due to the rain making the day beautifully dreary. And then I heard it. My door getting banged on by the thorn in my side since kindergarten, affectionately named ‘Wyatt’.
For a moment, I was debating the very real and very alluring option of simply ignoring him until he remembered he has a key to my apartment. But then the fact that he was here to get us both ready for a small concert in some shitty bar for a band I’d crashed through a glass ceiling of enjoyment into stabbed that thought into a sad blood puddle. Poor thought. Rest in piss, my friend.
Anyway, I’d managed to drag myself out of bed, still in only a pair of— don’t laugh at me or I’ll, I dunno, give you a virus —sonic boxers. I said don’t laugh! I made sure to walk a bit slow on my way to the door, mostly to make him wait, also because the scars on my thighs were itchy and moving too fast would make them itch more and I’d end up popping open something if I itched them. My luck was terrible with scratching old self-inflicted scars.
As soon as that door was open, Wyatt was inside and rushing to my bathroom.
“Very polite of you, Wyatt. No good morning? Walking through my house in shoes? No coffee?” I closed and locked the front door because fuck if I know what other freaks in this apartment complex intend on doing if my door is unlocked. I’d like to stay ignorant, thank you.
“Oh, you’re fine. Get in here, we’re meeting up with Lilith, Tommy, and Beth before the concert.”
And so I sat through Wyatt helping me figure out an outfit— we decided on black skinnyjeans, a thong— no, it did not hold my dick well —with the sides visible above my jeans, a random croptop out of my closet, black boots, and soft fingerless gloves.
“Lookin’ good, hot guy.” Wyatt laughed while continuing to fight with his wallet to fit in his pants pocket. I then watched this— mind you, he’s twenty-six years old and in college —man shove his wallet in his underwear. So, I don’t think me jerking off to a singers voice is as bad as the war crime Wyatt just committed. He belongs in jail.
“Christ, you’re impossible.”
“Shut the hell up.”
“No thanks.”
“No, I’m fun.” He grinned at me and nudged my side, seeming like he conspired about something.
A while of arguing, stuffing three extra people into Wyatt’s van, and figuring out if Lilith’s heels are ‘too big’ for the bar, passes by quickly and we’re finally on the road.
So I made a coupon for a good friend's photography studio. If you get the chance, definitly check him out at @bsbeatty or BSBPPhotography.com. / #melk #melkstudio #melkbranding #bsbp #branding #photographer #portrait #minimal #minimalism #gradient #mmmmtasty /
