Shot Through The Heart, And You’re To Blame. (Brendon Urie x Reader)

Being Fall Out Boy’s tour manager was stressful enough as is, what with all the pranks, troublemaking, and just utter disregard for any rules whatsoever. But combine the members of Fall Out Boy, Twenty One Pilots and Panic! At The Disco, send them all on the Save Rock and Roll tour, and maintaining your sanity while on the road became borderline impossible.

Sure, Tyler and Josh were absolute sweethearts and tried their best to stay out of trouble to make things a little easier for you, and you could more or less handle the members of Fall Out Boy since you’ve been with them for most of their career, but there would be times (once a week, at least) where they’d do something so stupid, reckless or irritating that you’d majorly consider hopping on a plane and getting as far away from all of them as humanly possible, leaving the rest of the management team to deal with the idiocy. More often than not, these shenanigans could be traced back to a single source: Brendon.

Due to the bond between Brendon and the guys, you’d met him and the rest of Panic! a while back. Your first impression of them was that they were fantastic people - extremely talented, funny, all-around great guys. And you were right.


To say that you and Brendon didn’t like each other wouldn’t be an entirely true statement. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Brendon, it was simply that the two of you were nearly polar opposites, - he was boisterous and wildly outgoing, while you were orderly and much more toned-down - meaning you didn’t agree on most things. Then there was the fact that he was the mastermind behind all of the foolishness that was slowly driving you mad.

Like right now, for instance. It was one of the rare off days the boys had the pleasure of having during the current leg of the tour, and what other way would they possibly choose to spend it other than by harassing you? Having spent virtually the entirety of your morning cleaning up after their shaving cream and toothpaste battle, you decided to retire to the tour bus, praying that they would leave you alone long enough for you to finally get some admin done. But alas, Lady Luck was clearly not on your side (and obviously hasn’t been on your side for a very long time) since they decided to pile into the temporary living space soon after.

You decided to block them out and pretend that there weren’t currently nine super hyper man-children surrounding you. You were doing a pretty good job at it too, before someone’s shoe flew across the cramped space and whacked you against the back of your head.

Having finally had enough of the childish, nonsensical antics going on around you, you swivelled your chair around so that you were facing the boys, immediately silencing them with the look of utter aggravation you wore on your face.

“You know, most musicians would use what little free time they have to relax to actually relax,” you stated simply, hoping they would get the hint and settle down or at least take their ‘game’ elsewhere, preferably far away from you.

Nine pairs of eyes stared at you momentarily; their owners ignoring your comment and going back to yelling and being idiots almost directly after.

“Hey, (Y/N), catch!” Brendon called before tossing a football your way.

Ducking, you managed to dodge the air-borne object, causing it to hit the wall behind you instead, knocking down a framed picture of the boys.

“Are you clinically insane or just incredibly annoying?” you snapped.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Probably both.”

Shutting your eyes and trying to regain whatever miniscule amount of patience you had left, you rose from your seat and calmly walked towards the door of the bus, opening it and extending a finger towards the parking lot.

“Get out,” you muttered, maintaining your relaxed composure. When no one moved a muscle after the first ten seconds of your command, your patience started to falter once again. “1…,” you started warningly.

“Uh, oh,” Joe gulped, scrambling to his feet.

“2…,” you continued.

“Get outta here, guys! She’s gonna blow!” Patrick warned, already halfway out the door; the rest of Fall Out Boy following not far behind, being all too familiar with your current state of anger.

A few worried and slightly scared glances were shared between the remaining five before they too sprinted towards somewhere they would be safe from your wrath.

“Dumbasses,” you mumbled to yourself, grabbing a beer from the mini-fridge before getting back to work.


Patrick shushed his friends as they made their way towards the tour bus you were still holed up in. Pizza, an assortment of snacks and the Star Wars trilogy in their hands, they stopped dead in their tracks outside the door. Patrick brought one of his hands up and knocked tentatively, not wanting to knock loudly or barge in just in case you were still upset about their earlier behaviour.

“Come in,” your muffled voice could be heard from inside.

Filing inside one by one, the boys stood awkwardly in front of you causing you to raise your eyebrows in confusion as well as amusement at the sight.

“Hi, (Y/N/N),” Patrick said meekly, prompting a chorus of ‘Hey, (Y/N)’s from the others.

“Boys,” you nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of your mouth as you crossed your legs and leaned back in your seat, thoroughly enjoying the awkwardness the males were suffering through.

“We, uh, we’re really sorry about earlier. We know we really annoyed you, and we wanna make it up to you, so…” Patrick continued, holding up the pizza boxes he held in his pale hands, “we come bearing peace offerings.” The rest of the boys held up whatever they were holding as proof of Patrick’s statement.

“Mm, did you bring chocolate?”

“Your favourite,” Josh smiled widely, holding out the slab of heavenliness towards you.

“Forgiven,” you beamed, snatching the chocolate.

Looks of relief flooded everyone’s faces and you couldn’t supress the chuckle that came as a response.

“Okay, well, which episode are we starting with?” Dallon questioned, rubbing his hands together as he surveyed the DVDs.

“I say The Empire Strikes Back. By far the best one,” Brendon stated as he grabbed a slice of pizza from the box.

“Definitely,” you concurred through a mouth full of chocolate.

Brendon stopped mid-bite and snapped his head towards you, making you frown in confusion.

“Did you just… agree with me?” he asked in disbelief, the rest of the guys turning to face the both of you, looking just as shocked as Brendon.

“Oh, I wish I could take-“

“Nope! You said it! No take-backs!” he laughed triumphantly, pointing at you.

“You’re such a child,” you retorted, returning your focus to the chocolate.


“So, will you come with?”

“I would rather be violently stabbed to death.”

“But it’ll be fuuuunnn,” Pete whined, stamping his feet and pouting like an oversized toddler.

“I can hardly handle you guys in a secluded venue with security all around. How do you expect me to deal with all nine of you in public? In the dark. With guns.

“I don’t see what the problem is. It’s not like it’s real guns,” he scoffed.

“Yeah, because that’s the part I have an issue with,” you remarked sarcastically, “Maybe if it was real guns I would’ve gone with. That way I could solve my problems once and for all.”

“Haha, so funny,” Pete mocked in a high-pitched voice. “Soooooooo,” he jumped next to you on the couch and began poking your shoulder repeatedly. “Will you come with? Will you come with? Will you come with? Will you c-“

“Oh my God!”

“But will you?”

“If it’ll shut you the fuck up, then yes. Damn.”

“Yeah! I’ll go tell the others!”

He jumped up from the couch and ran into the next room to inform the guys of your decision to join them in laser tag, resulting in cheers of happiness and excitement from the band members which, admittedly, warmed your heart yet also made you instantly regret your decision.

Sighing deeply, you shook your head as you made your way to change into something a bit more laser tag-appropriate, brainstorming ways to make sure the boys didn’t get another off day for the rest of the tour.


Two hours and five rounds in, you and Pete were the sole remaining members of your team while Brendon and Josh were the only members left on theirs.

Moving slowly and carefully so as not to make too much noise and give away your location, you rounded corner after corner, keeping a sharp eye out for any sign of brightly coloured blue hair or an obnoxiously tall quiff.

Hearing a noise behind you, you turned around hastily, only to be pushed roughly into a dark corner. You recognised the assailant as Brendon.

“What are you doing, you idio-“

You were cut off by the sudden sensation of his lips on yours, moving slowly yet with an intensity that took your breath away - literally and figuratively.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been kissing for, and when the two of you finally pulled apart you felt dazed and slightly euphoric.

Opening your mouth with the intention of asking Brendon what the hell just happened, you were silenced before you even spoke by his finger on your lips. Thinking he was about to explain himself to you, you stood still and looked expectantly at him, but he never spoke.

Instead, he shot you in the heart with his laser gun.

“Ha!” he exclaimed before running off to hunt down Pete, leaving you confused and alone in the dark, your vest beeping and flashing to indicate your ‘death’.

“That son of a bitch.”


Thank you for reading x