frank way

You’re My Bodyguard, Not My Owner. (Part 6) (Brendon Urie x Reader)

Sitting quietly in a secluded part of a quinjet that had become SHIELD’s temporary headquarters, you tried to curl up and make yourself as small as possible, wanting nothing more than to just vanish, so that you wouldn’t have to deal with the thoughts that were currently racing through your mind.

It was a mere twelve hours since Brendon had rescued you. Twelve hours since you had watched him kill a man like he was nothing more than an insect – which, to Brendon, he was. He felt no remorse, no regret, over killing Dean. He couldn’t, not when he’d killed people over things far less awful than what Dean had done to you. Of course, you couldn’t comprehend this. You couldn’t understand how easy it was for him to just pull the trigger, when you’d so earnestly begged him not to. Brendon did it for you, you knew that, but a part of you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he did it for himself, too.

You didn’t thank Brendon when he handed you a cup of coffee, you didn’t even look at him, instead busying yourself by studying Dean’s case file an agent had handed to you earlier.

“You seriously can’t still be mad at me for wasting that scumbag.”

You didn’t respond, taking a sip of the coffee and flipping through the pages, feigning interest in what was written on them.

“Are you kidding?” Brendon scoffed. “What, is this some abnormally sick case of Stockholm syndrome or some shit?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, angrily closing the folder and tossing it onto the nearby table. “This is having a heart and actually feeling upset over the loss of another human life,” you spat, jaw clenched. “Not ignoring the fact that you just killed someone, like an emotionless fucking robot.”

Brendon laughed a bitter laugh, much like he did when you’d snapped at him about leaving your friends to get hurt three months ago. “Oh, my god. What the hell is wrong with you? Are you crazy, and actually believe that he would’ve been better off alive than dead, or are you just that stupid that even after everything, you still can’t understand the fact that everyone is fucking trying to kill you?!”

“You have no fucking right to speak to me like that!”

“And you have no fucking right to question my actions when all I’m trying to do is save your ungrateful ass!”

“Ungrateful?” you scoffed, swinging your legs off of the ledge so that you could turn your body to face him. “Brendon, you know that I’m grateful for what you’ve done. I told you that countless times that night at the safe house! Hell, we even bonded over it, in a twisted way. This isn’t about me not being grateful. It’s about you thinking that you can do whatever you want, and not for one moment considering the effect it might have on me. I watched you kill a man, Brendon! I literally saw the life drain from his eyes, and it’s messing with my mind completely.” By the end of your rant, you were nearly breathless and the tears you were trying so hard to keep at bay were now spilling over, onto your cheeks; your fingers absentmindedly travelled to the necklace around your neck, twirling it around in an effort to calm yourself down.

“I warned you, (Y/N),” Brendon said, his voice low and gravelly. “I told you that there’d be terrible things that I would do. And yes, you’re right, I don’t feel guilty about it. At all. Because I can’t afford to, and neither can you. I can’t show emotion, because emotion makes you weak, and weak is something that neither of us can afford for me to be.”

Your brow creased as you twisted your mouth, shaking your head disbelievingly at the man in front of you. “Brendon, emotion doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.”

“I gave up on feeling human a long time ago,” he said simply; he had a faraway look in his eyes, like he was having a flashback, and for a moment, he looked almost broken, a shell of the hardened man you’d come to know. But the moment was extremely brief, and almost as quick as it had happened, it ended. He now wore an intrigued expression as he squinted, peering at the necklace around your neck that you were still fiddling with. “What’s that?”

“It’s a necklace,” you answered, fingers halting.

“Yeah, no shit,” he rolled his eyes. “What kind of charm is it?”

His rudeness pissed you off, and you were seriously considering not giving him an answer and walking away instead, but that wouldn’t do any good to the thread of a ‘relationship’ you had going between the two of you. Granted, you still disliked him immensely (more and more so after every time the two of you had an argument), but you still needed him there to protect you in ways you couldn’t protect yourself.

“It’s an angel wing,” you replied plainly, reaching behind your neck to unclasp it before handing it to Brendon. “My dad gave it to me when I found out he was a spy.”

Brendon narrowed his eyes even further, straining them to try and read the inscription as he ran his thumb over it. “My… angel?”

“Yeah, ‘angel’ was his nickname for me. Ever since I was little.”

Brendon’s breathing increased and his lips pressed together in a thin line. “We have to go see The Director.”


“So, let me get this straight,” you said, pacing up and down the room with your hands in the air, thoughts running wild. “My dad discovered an artificial intelligence system – which also just so happens to be an energy source – a few years ago on one of his missions; he brought it back here, to SHIELD, in hopes to make sense of it, except that no one could. No one, except Dr Selvig, who, now with Agent Barton, is under Hydra’s control, because apparently, Hydra knows something about it that we don’t. Most likely, a way to cause mass amounts of damage. Which is why they launched that attack on HQ – so that they could steal it. What’s more is, my dad decided to name the AI ANGEL, which was also his nickname for me, hence Hydra believes that I’m the key to unlocking ANGEL’s full potential. Also, the man they sent in to steal it – and me – is the same person who killed my grandparents. The Winter Solider. AKA my father’s mortal enemy.”

“Correct,” The Director nodded.

“And why the fuck didn’t you tell me all of this months ago?”

“Language,” Agent O’Malley warned, prompting you to glare at him.

“Because none of it made sense then,” The Director explained, standing up from his seat and walking over to you. “There was no indication that ANGEL and you were related at all. Until now.” He gestured to your necklace, which the tech analysts were urgently examining.

“Sir,” one of them piped up, swivelling in their chair. “It appears that there was some kind of microchip inside of it. Most of the information is nonsensical, but we’re working on it.”

“Nothing Agent (Y/L/N) did was nonsensical,” The Director hummed. “There’s something there, we just have to figure out how to look for it.”

“Well, that’s just great,” you huffed, plopping down on the leather couch in the middle of the room. “I’ve been unknowingly walking around with the secret to the end of my world around my neck for the past five years.”

“You’re lucky we took you in when we did,” Brendon added, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Else Hydra would’ve gotten to you before we even realised what was going on.”

“So it’s a good thing my parents were murdered then?” you snapped, shooting hateful glances at your bodyguard. “Because if they were still alive then SHIELD wouldn’t have the upper hand? Is that it?”

“That’s not what I m-“

“Whatever,” you waved your hand dismissively. “So, since I’m probably the only one who will be able to decode whatever the hell it is that my father cooked up over there, I’m guessing that I’m more of a priority now than ever. Meaning, my bodyguard over there,” you lazily pointed at Brendon, “will be more attached to me than usual, right?”


“Oh, joy.”


Thank you for reading x

me as an emo parent part 4

*last time on maaep frerard found out where his name originated and now its joshlers turn*

Me: “joshler my son this story’s a good one”

Joshler: “and how could that be” *joshler rolls his eyes*

Me:”joshler you snarky little shit shut the fuck up your non binary parents trying to tell a story”

*joshler instantly shuts up as his brothers ‘ohh’ at him.*

Me: “ok josh and Tyler were two very smol beans who everybody thinks josh tops so-”

  • Me: I don't like overplayed songs.
  • Also Me:
Stages of a Band Obession

•Hearing their music for the first time somewhere.
•liking the song
•loving the song
•looks up song
•listens to more songs from the band
•does research about the band
•"I like this band"
•to “I love this band”
•trying to get them to notice you
•jamming to them 27/10
•crying over them 28/11
•still obsessed with them in 50 years

band members as things i've heard at school
  • patrick: i may be "tiny," but i can still kick your ass. don't try me bitch.
  • brendon: i'm not gay but i do have a major man crush on nick jonas, not gonna lie
  • someone: i thought it was ryan reynolds?
  • brendon: oh yeah. him too. also harry styles, justin bieber...
  • pete: i haven't slept in three days but i should be fine, ill grab a coffee at lunch
  • pete: *falls asleep on his desk literally 10 minutes later*
  • ryan: sorry i took so long, i was having a breakdown in the bathroom
  • gerard: *whispering* oh my god what the fuck is she thinking? double denim? what is this, the fucking 80's?
  • andy: i love you guys but can you please, please not?
  • someone: build!that!wall!
  • joe, loudly: HOW ABOUT NO, THANKS?
  • dallon: i'd literally rather be dead than hang out with you tomorrow
  • dallon: so yeah sure we can hang out, when?
  • frank: i'm a simple man, i love dogs and i like boobs
  • tyler: you ever come to the realization that school is kinda like prison? we're forced to do things, we have to eat at certain times, we're forced to interact with each other..
  • josh:
  • josh: you just blew my fucking mind