evil gerard way but equally evil reader
i thought about this because of an arctic monkeys lyric
“don’t get emotional, that’s not like you” EVIL GERARD IM TELLING YOUUUUUU
oh this is a good one this is a very very good one
THIS BECAME SOMETHING BEYOND WHAT THIS ASK WAS TOO LMFAOAOAOAOAO
this oneshot will be posted with male, gender neutral, and female viewer POV's and will be labeled with which one they are!!!!
"You Find God in Pain" (f+m ver).
Draag Time Loop! Gerard x Military Deserter! Reader
Y/n has long deserted their command in the Draag national army, only to end up in the companionship of the leader of the national band.
takes place during the time loop!!!! BUT NOT AFTER A CONCERT WHERE THEY NUKE IT!!!! my headcannon is that they do concerts around Draag for "patriotism" and defect occasionally- not every time. The concerts we see where they nuke everyone are these moments of lucidity. WHEN THEY LAUNCH THE BOMG, IT RESETS THE TIME LOOP. THEY HAVEN'T FIGURED OUT HOW TO "END IT" YET IN MY HEADCANNON.
content: angst.....age gap (reader is 22, Gee is 48 like irl), FINGERING, dirty talk, GERARD IS MEAN AND EVIL AND READER LOVES IT, crying, my interpretation of the LLTBP + Draag lore, headcannons!!!!, reader is having a moral crisis, the Grand Immortal Dictator ruins everything, quantum immortality mentioned. HELLA FOUNDATIONS OF DECAY REFERENCES.
Darkness consumed the streets beyond the windows of what you were hesitant to call a living room. This house wasn't yours, the clothes you were wearing weren't yours, and your tenants and convictions certainly weren't yours anymore either.
Relics of past life lay scattered across the floor of the space. Picture frames were face down, their glass scattered across the floor. A quilt that looked like the result of an intensive labor effort was on the derelict couch- your bed, for tonight. A torn up shell of what was once an artisan's woven carpet.
You stared through the cloudy pane of glass separating you from the outside world. You heard music riding on the wind earlier, but it had long since gone quiet.
The small oil lantern burning in the corner of the room was the only thing fighting back the oppressive forces of the night.
You'd been going building to building on the outskirts of the city for weeks, dodging and ducking at any sign of the Draag Defense Force's "civilian protection" units. You'd been writhing in the guilt that flooded your chest every time you thought about your time in the service. If they were to find you, a defector, a defector with a reputation, a defector who was sapient and lucid, they'd be your ruin. Your extinction was inevitable, you were just delaying it as much as you could.
You'd surprised yourself with how long you'd been able to keep fighting.
You thought it over weeks ago, right after you ran, when you'd come face to face with the man who'd been leading Draag's national band. You thought him a patriot, a man who'd turn you in without room for a second thought.
When he instead offered you refuge in his home for an evening and dispensed to you the truths of his ordeal, your mind had very much been changed. He held no faith in Draag or the Grand Immortal Dictator. He believed them all vermin with no chance of redemption. He longed for an escape.
You learned he had a brother who'd been arraigned to perform alongside him in their "eternal waltz". He had friends. He had a funny way of talking. An odd way of thinking. Mood swings.
He said they'd been trapped. That the five of them were dying. What he meant escaped you.
Regardless, he'd become a friend of sorts. A bastion of relief and camaraderie when he and his band weren't wound up like tin soldiers.
He couldn't shelter you for long, though, so you'd set out once again. This routine, this constant coming and going, the cyclical seeking of somewhere to rest when every instinct told you to run was burning you away at all ends. Every night you wondered if you'd be waking up to a swathe of troops who'd come to put a bullet in your back.
The crunching of glass under boots broke you from your thoughts, and you'd turned on your heels- pointing your pistol in the direction of the sound.
Standing in the dark recesses of a doorless frame, the man stood, still in his uniform, staring at you. The ends of his hair were still wet with sweat. You exhaled.
"You shouldn't stand in the window, you know. Especially with a light on.", He said- breaking the silence. You twisted your jaw, lowering your gun.
"I was looking for you", You admitted, sourly. He nodded.
He stepped into the room, stepping around the discarded remains of the old tenants of the home, the ghost of a smile on his face as he looked around. You couldn't tell what mood he was in yet, what they'd done to him before the show, and the uncertainty made your chest tighten, your nerves welling up in your stomach.
Your tension was palpable; back straight, shoulders stiff. Gerard laughed.
"I won't bite", he dropped himself onto the couch without regard for the quilt, "Sit."
You sat. The couch sank under you. For how old it was, it was comfortable.
"So", he began, quaintly, almost amused, "How are you? Any...mh..trouble?"
You sighed deeply. It always started like this. "I'm fine. No different from the last time you asked."
"Right. You look stressed out, Y/n", He crossed his legs, "Why?"
You furrowed your brows. Why. Why? Gerard knew why, he understood why, of all realms, all possibilities, all discussions you've had of the same circumstance over and over he seems to forget the why every time.
Things like that just made your already nebulous view of him cloudier.
You scoffed. "You know why, sir. My presence here is a blinking light in the darkness. The moths are coming."
He shook his head, a chuckle pulling from his throat. You sat up straight. The shadows from the lantern plunged his features into the darkness.
"No. Your stress isn't from your circumstance. You're an intelligent girl, clearly, you figured out how to avoid detection thus far. You're a smart cookie. Why are you stressed out?"
You cocked your head to the side. "I don't follow."
He jumped up out of the chair, his shadow casting itself long across the floor. He held his hands behind his back, and he paced. One step. Two steps. Pause.
"You used to be part of this all, you know."
You froze now.
"These games we all play, here. The race, dear. You're in it, and you're in it deep."
You didn't like this.
"I didn't expect you to come and lecture me", You spat.
"I'm not lecturing you, I'm telling you to think, Y/n. Use that pretty little brain of yours before it's blown out."
You swallowed back your nerves.
"That's a bold thing to say, Gerard."
You sounded more like the echo than the roar. Your voice shook.
"Well, it's true. You run away but how far can you actually go?" He began to pace back and forth again. "Will you truly get away? Did you ever actually want to?"
You furrowed your brows, mouth opening and then closing almost instantly. You had something to say, but the dizzying turns of phrase made your mouth move faster than your brain.
"Of course I wanted to get away. I still want to get away. How could you even sat that?", You barked, "You know how hard it was for me to choose to leave."
He clicked his tongue, shaking his head at you. He wasn't that much taller than you, but from down where you were sitting it felt like he'd grown in stature up and into the ceiling, staring down to you, piercing into your mottled flesh with his dull eyes.
"You say that, but if I recall correctly your leaving involved a short drop and a quick stop." The sight of a cheek to cheek grin made you shift uncomfortably, "Didn't seem to be something you thought about too hard. A man doesn't stab himself and hang himself. Should've thought harder."
"How do you know about-"
"-You thought they wouldn't tell everyone? Sweetie, I'm not the only one who knows you hung your commander to get away." He laughed.
"How...? What do you mean they told everyone? How many people know?", You asked. You leaned over, anxiety pushing your body forward, nails dragging into the worn fabric of the couch arm.
"Everyone. Military men, civilians, your own comrades....they know, girl."
You put a hand on your forehead, your brain was fuzzy and your chest felt like someone was slowly lacing up your ribs- contracting them over your lungs and heart, which had been slowly kicking up it's pace behind your sternum.
You could barely choke anything out when you asked "Why'd they tell so many people, huh? What example could possibly be made out of some fucking shitty murder?"
You'd lifted your head back up, barely, to stare him down while you'd been shouting.
"Oh don't get emotional, y/n...It's so unlike you. You're smarter than that." He crooned his head to the side, eyes shooting a foggy gaze into yours. Something between omniscient, lustful, and amused.
He continued; "Control, Y/n. If you tell someone a killer is on the loose, they'll hide."
He took a step closer. His broad shoulders made his shadow crawl long up the wall. "If you tell a military man his comrade has been killed by an insubordinate, they'll become more obedient...."
One more. "After all, they tell me to jump, I ask how high....and you know how I resist....", He stepped over to you, finally, hands still behind his back, and bent over at the hips- face inches away from yours.
"If they can control me, over and over again. If they can break me into their mold, they can do the same for all of Draag. And for you, my dear-" He poked a finger into your chest, right above where your breasts sat "- Control for you can come in the form of your disappearance from the narrative all together...They'll find you and they will kill you."
You slapped his hand away from your body, and tried to squirm away from him through the small gap between his body and the couch- you wanted to get away from him- past companionship be damned. Whatever you'd wanted from him you'd accepted you weren't getting. Maybe not tonight, maybe not ever.
You wanted to run far, far away and never see Draag again. Shed your skin, let everything you once knew flood and be washed away. Go off to build new towers of your own, somewhere else, somewhere nobody knew who you were. Somewhere the Grand Immortal Dictator and all his armies out for revenge or patriotism or duty could find you.
Somewhere Gerard couldn't either.
You failed, horribly. Of course. Gerard grabbed you by the arms and pulled you close to him, and you pounded your balled fists on his shoulders and his chest, rocking your shoulders to try and shake yourself loose of his grip. With all of your squirming, he just seemed to hold on tighter, like a boa constrictor wrapping itself around a fawn. Your range of motion was too limited for any of it to matter.
"Fuck you, let go of me-", You stared him down, one of your knees snaking itself between his legs. You pressed it against his crotch with the intent to strike. His hands were still tightly gripping your shoulders, and one of his arms snaked itself around your waist.
"Now, Y/n, don't be so mean I didn't say that to scare you"
"Like hell you did. What? You gonna kill me yourself?"
He pulled you closer, flush, chest to chest, hearts beating in time, beating one against the other.
"Never. Like I said, I wanted to make you think." His voice dropped to a whisper. This close to you, the one light in the room couldn't reach the front of his face, and the words came to you from the void.
"Think? You think this all is making me think?", You hit him, hard.
"I made you try to leave, didn't I? Didn't you think about that at all?"
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"You tried to run off. Just now. Did you not think about what you were doing and why? Where you'd be going? Anything...?"
You stopped squirming, but pushed yourself with your palms so your face was further back from his than it had just been.
"........Maybe about how your cage, here, was of your own making? How this blood you've spilled, in vain, contributed to your own conviction?"
"You think this was my fault? I had to kill him, there was no other way!"
"And now they're canonizing his body. You had a choice." He jolted you with a hand. Just a small shake.
"Not one that would've gotten me out of here alive." You looked away from him, towards the blackness of the night lurking outside of the window, "This place is a poison...You know this better than anyone."
"But you're still here. You're not out" He was right.
He grabbed your chin forcefully with the hand he'd had on your shoulder. He was testing you to see if you'd take this chance to run. You didn't. With that same hand he moved your chin to have you face him once more.
"Sometimes, y/n....", He got close. Real close. To your face, "The poison is the cure."
He pressed his lips to yours. Just briefly. Then pulled away. It was as if he'd been giving you a marker of sorts.
"What...?" Your brows furrowed.
"How about I help you focus."
He kissed you again.
"Clear your mind."
Another kiss, this time to your jaw bone.
"You do still look stressed, after all."
Your hands shifted to grip the fabric of his jacket. Another kiss, this time to your neck, followed in quick succession by another and another. You tilted your head back instinctually, mouth dropping the tiniest bit open to exhale.
He moved his hand to the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair, craning his face into your neck like a monster trying to drain your jugular. His lips ghosted over the length of your throat, teeth nipping at your flesh.
Your arms went around his neck, and your feet walked you back to the couch where you fell backwards onto it's surface. Gerard placed a knee between your legs, spreading them just that bit, with one of his hands on the back cushions of the couch, stabilizing him.
His other hand found itself on your cheek, and he pulled himself away from you.
"The way Draag is now...", His knee slowly pushed up against the space between your legs, nudging itself against your core, "Is the way it's always been."
"Condemned...", He rubbed his knee against you, hoping to provide you with the friction you'd needed, "Disgusting." You felt a jolt of pleasure like electricity below your waist, you sat up a little straighter.
"It's like a bleeding, sobbing wound", he chuckled at your reaction, rubbing circles in your cheek with his thumb, "And believe me I've tried to fix it. So many times. Countless times maybe." He was still rubbing his knee against you, but now was using slower, more forceful ruts. Your breathing grew choppy and ragged.
"It never works. I'm still missing something...", His thumb slid closer to your mouth, and he traced your lips with his fingertip before pushing his thumb against your lower lip.
"Say ahh", he insisted. He gave you a jolt with his knee, and you instinctively pushed your hips forward against the source of your pleasure, mouth falling open with a silent squirm. He put his thumb on your tongue.
"God, you're filthy" He laughed at you, squirming under the friction of his knee. He shook his head, tutting at you.
"I keep telling myself it's not too late for this place....But just look at you. Under it's heel. Even after you defected." He placed a kiss on your forehead. "You're still here, finding god in all of this pain."
He pulled his knee away, and removed his finger from your mouth. You almost whined at the lack of pressure you felt now.
Gerard shrugged his jacket off, uncovering the plain black shirt that he'd had under it, tucked into his uniform slacks.
"Get up for a second." It was a command. His spirits were bright. You stood, standing unmoving, eyes staring up at him. He moved around and sat where you'd just been sitting. You raised a brow. The tingling feeling in your pants was drowning out any complains, snarks, or questions your body was screaming at you to raise.
His poison was an interesting variation of Draag's very own, and you've tasted it times before tonight, but it had a potency you hadn't expected this time around. It was like a storm gaining in intensity before the eye passes over you. It was curious. It was shameful. It was dirty.
"Unbuckle your belt, y/n." He whispered.
You swallowed, fingers shooting deftly to the buckle, pulling it open. You jumped the gun, undoing the top button of your pants while you were at it.
"Eager. Interesting. Take them off how you took your commander's life. Slowly."
You felt a chill shoot down your spine. Tears pricked at your eyes. You refused to cry, to embarrass yourself. You were a grown woman.
You grabbed the waistband of your pants and slowly pulled them down over your hips. Goosebumps pricked all over your skin at the contact with the cold air.
You kicked your pants from around your ankles into some corner of the room. This left you standing before the man in your underwear.
"Beautiful as always, y/n." Gerard patted his lap with his hands. "Get down here."
You cocked your head to the side, "How?"
"You're smart. Guess."
You placed your hands to steady yourself as you got down- your knees were just off the floor, your chest across his lap, ass in the air. You had bent over his knees.
"Are you a mind reader?" He was satisfied.
You felt one of his hands come into contact with your thigh, rubbing up and down the flesh, squeezing your ass when he got to the apex of it. His hand slid down to the front of you, a finger running across your sex. You twitched in his lap.
"Are you just- nh. Just gonna keep teasin' me?", you whispered.
He did it again, pressing his finger down on your clit before drawing a small circle in the flesh to torment you. You let your head hang as ripples of pleasure rolled from between your legs and crashed over your body like a rogue wave capsizing a vessel at sea. Your fingers dug into the roughspun fabric of his pants.
"Bastard...", you groaned.
"What was that?", he asked, "Don't get mad now, y/n, you've come so far. Right?"
His fingers snaked under your panties, the cold flesh of his hands working you- the skin to skin contact lighting up your nervous system.
"You went from under the dictator's boot to sitting in his yard waiting for him to kill you." His words cut and his fingers soothed, it was static and lightning, heat and a foul burn. It was delicious and putrid.
"You're still his dog, Gerard", you bit your lip. His fingers covered themselves in your slick before teasing your hole. You let out a grumble.
"You are too, sweeheart. You're just a filthy military whore." He let his fingers enter you, slowly pumping them. Curling them upward. He wanted to stimulate you just enough to make you cry for more. Ask for him to go faster. Beg him to give you more.
His slender fingers worked your insides at a slow pace. Despite the slow rush, he padded the squishy, spongy, sensitive spot inside of you whenever he got the chance. He wanted to remind you that even though his pace was lacking, his point would be made. He was fingerfucking you the same way he spoke to you- in a roundabout slog that was designed to make you weak by the time it was over.
He started to hum something about a song about disappearing. His voice was the only other frequency to fill the air other than the wet, erotic sound of his fingers working you and your choked up breathing.
"Please go faster....", you sighed.
"Hm?", he stopped all together.
You thought you might cry.
"Faster, please."
"Oh, because you deserve that, right?", what was he on about. He'd made all of these wonderful and pretentious assertions while concealing nearly everything about himself for you. He makes you feel like shit, he lets you know your sins shan't be redeemed, he makes sure you know- you acknowledge- that you will be dying soon.
He was a slimy bastard and he had his fingers buried to the knuckle inside of you. He was a slimy bastard you wanted more of. You selfishly wanted to eat him alive. To have him and all he was.
In the same way you selfishly wanted to escape, to find yourself. To build towers of your own. To fix your heart. To disappear.
In the same selfish way you killed your boss, and acted like you'd done nothing wrong when he told you everyone had found out. It was justice, in a sick way. In a Draag way. In a way that was flawed and disturbed and broken and unsure of itself.
You felt a tear roll down your cheek.
"I need it, please", you did all but roll your hips back onto his hand.
"You need to think abou-"
You interrupted him: "I know I was wrong, okay? Just fuck me, please, or do something, do anything-"
Your guilt fueled your arousal. You felt disgusting.
Now he interrupted you. He resumed the movement of his fingers inside of your cunt. It wasn't just to shut you up, it was a reward. He was happy you admitted that you were wrong and he was right.
You let out a guttural moan at how he was twisting up your insides with his forefingers. You turned your head up to look at him and the two of you locked eyes. Through your tears you could see him smiling down at you.
His free hand clutched your jaw and stroked your cheek with a thumb.
"You're starting to understand what I was getting at...", he sighed, "I didn't mean to make you cry. It's unbecoming of you."
He increased his pace once more, trying to pull pleasure out of you, draw your orgasm out of the clouds and down onto this plane of existence, and fingerfucked you like he meant it. Like you earned it. Like you'd been the best soldier he'd ever had the pleasure of meeting.
His fingers would tense inside of you before pushing up and curling where your flesh gave in, pressing into you and pumping out of you, expanding and contracting you, giving you what you wanted and what you needed. The stimulation only became doubled when he drew circles in your clit with another one of his fingers.
You choked out a moan, only being able to open your mouth so far with his hand on your jaw.
"You see now the way of things? The way of this place?"
You nodded and let out a string of garbled syllables. It was supposed to be a yes, it came out like a whore's cry.
"I just wanted you to see it how I do. How I've been seeing it."
"B'whattaya mean-?", you squealed.
"I can't tell you. You have to figure it out."
The pleasure of meeting was all yours when you let out a sweet cry of pain, pleasure, and something else as your orgasm washed over your body. Your legs shook out the kinetic energy that had built up and you bit down hard on one of your lips to keep it down. Even though you were so far out of town, walls were still thin.
Gerard stroked your chin, guiding you gently through your orgasm as your body rocked against his lap. You felt your cunt tingle like it'd been made of little leaks of light, and your fluids had dripped down the insides of your legs, trailing all over Gerard's pants, hands, and the floor of the home you'd desanctified.
"I don't think that worked....We'll have to try again....", he sighed. He gently patted your bare ass. Your panties had been soaked through with all the action that'd been happening underneath them.
"If you're a good girl, I'll tell you why this all keeps happening. Why you feel like you're stuck here. Why I am. Would you like that?", he asked. There was a thin sheen of sweat sparkling on his forehead in the dim orange light. You could feel that he'd long since had an erection through the fabric of his pants.
"I would, please...."
"Let's get started then."
You had a long night ahead of you. Draag had no future ahead of it.
Paradoxically, you were at an impasse. You and Gerard in this hovel, stuck at both ends of time, stuck in a loop beyond your control, desperately looking for something to become of yourselves.
This comforted you much more than waiting for death.
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phew ok wow this was a lot.
LOVE YUOU!
