#andy biersack

glitter & paint 🚬 ༝

⤷ andy biersack x fem!reader ノ implied sex ⸝⸝ smoking ⸝⸝ toxic friends ⸝⸝ drugs & alcohol mentioned ⸝⸝ not proofread

last night was a blur. you had been making your way through the crowd to the stage, music thrumming in your bones. you vaguely recalled your friends calling for you, but you ignored them. it felt almost like a dream, until you were stirred from sleep by the slamming of a trailer door. your eyes flew open, sitting up slightly. your vision was hazy. you assumed that your friends had managed to convince someone to let them stay in their trailer for the night rather than finding a motel so late.

what confused you was the feeling of flesh under your hands rather than sheets. you glanced down, expecting to maybe see a friend who just bunked with you because of the lack of space. the last person you expected was andy biersack. he was still out, hair splayed and sticking up—leftover hairspray forcing it to remained tousled. his body paint was smeared, mixed with glitter in places. some of your pink lipstick still remained on his lips.

only then did those memories flood back. he had pulled you onto the stage. the adrenaline that had been pumping through you had made the sound of him screaming so close like a whisper. you had followed him off the stage, and back to the trailer. his bandmates must have returned late and left early, well just moments ago actually.

your clothes were on the floor, aside for the panties and t-shirt you must have pulled back on. you glanced at yourself, noticing the black smudges from his body paint.

you leaned over him, digging your phone from your shorts pocket. you sat back up, opening the device to check your messages. your friends hadn’t messaged you once, not even saying where they had gone or if you were alright. you were alright, but you had assumed they’d check—like you would for them. some friends. you checked your gallery, seeing what pictures you had gotten.

pictures of you on stage with him, taken while he was unaware and singing. pictures of you two walking to the trailer, pictures of you two in that bed, then one he had taken. you were asleep, head on his stomach, leg looped over his. his hand was on your head, in the midst of playing with one of your earrings.

you tossed your phone back onto the floor carelessly, only then did andy stir. his hand caught the edge of your shirt, eyes just barely peaking open.

“fuckin’ lay down, too early for this shit,” he muttered, pulling you back down. you smirked softly, laying back down. in mere seconds, he was snoring again.

on the roadtrip here, you hadn’t expected that you’d end up where you were. you thought maybe you’d manage to get a quick picture, much less into his bed. the world was strange.

your phone buzzing disturbed the silence. andy groaned, waking immediately upon the sound. you reached over him again, his hand sliding onto your lower back. you snatched the device from the ground and sat up to check the contact.

it was one of your friends. you ignored it, letting it continue to ring. he eyed you oddly, his arm moving to rest under his head.

“don’t ask,” you muttered. you had only come with them because they had gotten multiple tickets, and one their party members had bailed last minute. you weren’t close with them, but they offered and you took the chance.

another suspicious look. another buzz from your phone.

6:56 am clarissa “find ur own fucking ride home then bitch.”

your eyes rolled hard enough to make your head throb. you had enough cash for bus tickets to get back home, surely. you threw your phone aside again, falling back onto the mattress. or you’d call your bestfriend, something like that.

andy shifted beside you, grabbing a pack of cigarettes. he pulled a lighter and one from the box, offering it to you. you took one, lighting it with his after he lit it. you laid there for hours, simply speaking to one another. you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol in your system or the drugs in his that kept you both speaking, you’d never know. who cared, though? it was freeing, in a way.

you showed him your new car, a 2010 lexus rx 360 rwd. you showed him your baby—your sphinx cat named koko.

“he looks like a fuckin’ mole rat,” andy commented, exhaling smoke.

“leave my baby alone,” you scoffed, turning your phone off. he laughed, hand brushing up your back.

you told him of the life you wanted. a cabin in the woods, close to your best friend. you wanted a certain vibe constantly, a certain smell in the air.

“you just wanna live in twilight,” he joked.

“i guess, yeah,” you muttered, smiling in amusement.

“hope it happens,” he added, voice soft.

“i hope your stuff goes well too.”

it’d been years at this point. you lived where you dreamed of. a nice cabin in the woods, long gravel driveway, stream running nearby. your best friend lived just across the street. you still had koko—though you had gotten another sphinx came, named mango.

the sound of eggs scrambling in a cast iron was interrupted by the sound of tires rolling over gravel. you heard a car door close, then you heard the front door unlock and open. footsteps came up behind you, then tinier ones followed. the cats always followed him when he got home.

“missed you, princess,” his voice was gentle, roughened from years of screaming for his music. he had just wrapped up a tour, finally returning home to you.

“missed you too,” you replied. the cats purred loudly, rubbing against his legs. their actions pulled laughs from both of you.

to think, you ended up here because of a drunken hookup in 2011.