Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Coursing Through My Veins
1 ReviewsRonnie Radke is loved by many, and yet a lonely man. Despite his constant snarling, snappy and smart arse remarks, his friend Meg is incessantly by his side. She decides to invite him to a party, ...
Hello everyone! Welcome to my first actual planned out fic! I hope you all enjoy it, and I'd love some feedback from you guys, seeing as I'm quite excited about the plot I've managed to come up with. Now, before you read on, I'd like you to know that in this fic, MCR won't be the main characters. I know, I know, I'm terrible, but I thought it would be a refreshing change. However, fear not, they will make an appearance every now and then, for they're actions in this fic will have a fairly large impact on my main characters. :D Anyway! I will leave my incessant babble and let you hopefully enjoy my work!
B xo
Eyes unblinking eyes glittered maliciously in the artificial light that buzzed from the ceiling. Long, fuzzy legs pitter pattered across the squeaky clean, wooden floor as the spider almost silently made its way towards the open window, searching for freedom. Sunlight feebly attempted to bleed past the blinds that guarded the messy room from being exposed to the outside world. The room of a rich, secretly troubled and, although loved by many, lonely man who's past terrorised him in the night. He lay in a tangle of white, crisp sheets, large pillows and colourful limbs. His jet black hair was sprawled out over one of the pillows, some rebellious strands sticking to his sweat tainted, narrow face, the salty droplets dribbling down his olive skin. Brown eyes smudged with black eyeliner followed the spider, eyelids drooping slightly as the rockstar slowly pulled himself back into consciousness.
Suddenly, the white, plastic phone that most of the time sat silently on the small wooden table beside the bed shrieked out its piercing, shrill ringing, the sound sending a stabbing, throbbing pain shooting through the man's head. He groaned, pushing himself up into a sitting position, his sweaty back resting against the headboard of the bed, hand blindly patting across the table in search of the torturous object that sadly kept the rockstar glued to society. Finally, he curled his inked fingers around the object, pulling it up to his reluctant ear.
"Hello?" Ronnie Radke's voice, gruff with sleep and cigarette smoke, floated wearily into the air. The man pushed his messy, jet black hair out of his brown eyes, noticing with a small grimace how the ends were starting to curl upwards, tickling his chin. He'd have to straighten them again.
"Ronnie, please tell me you're up," the familiar, soft voice of his friend, Meg, crackling through the receiver. Her chalky skin, red tainted lips and thick black eyeliner splashed across the rockstar's hazy mind as he groaned impatiently down the phone, earning an exasperated yet amused sigh from the woman on the other end.
"You seriously need to get up, man, it's almost three," Meg drawled; Ronnie could picture her rolling her sharp, bright green eyes at her own mental image of him. He groaned again, his childish actions sending his friend into a small, choking fit of giggles - something that had never failed to annoy Ronnie about her.
"I don't need to get up," the man grumbled. Nonetheless, he kicked away the sheets that covered his half naked body, making no further move to stand and prepare himself for the day.
"Uh, yeah, you do, actually, you cheese pussy. Remember that party I invited you to ages ago? It happens to be today, in about... An hour and a half. Think you can get your pretty little ass ready for then?"
"Who says I'm going?" Ronnie shot back, Meg sighing yet again at his response.
"I do," she simply stated, knowing that, if he refused, Ronnie would find himself being dragged out of his uncared for house by his curly, unprepared hair. Ronnie sensed the threat in Meg's voice, and, sighing, he pushed himself off the mattress, standing next to the bedside table, shifting from foot to foot as the cold from the floor seeped onto his skin.
"I'm up," he mumbled, suppressing a yawn.
"Awesome, I'll pick you up at half four," his friend's excited voice crackled into his ear, and, it's that parting message, Ronnie heard the comforting beeping of the line going dead.
The phone dropped out of the rockstar's hand, hanging loosely by its cord merely a few centimetres of rom the ground, allowing Ronnie to have that precious hour and a half to get ready for an e net he was reluctant to attending to to himself. Privacy was essential in the man's life, despite the lack of it. Stretching, ignoring the sunlight that seemingly desperately attempted to blast into the chaotic room, Ronnie made his lazy way out through the door and down the carpeted steps to his insanely large kitchen. He knew the greatness of his house was unnecessary, but due to the troubles leaking through his mind and dreams, he felt the need to impress those who visited him. Especially the men, women, teenagers and children who didn't know who he was. Although that was a minority. The rockstar swung open the fridge, grabbing the half empty carton of milk as he kicked the source of cold air shut, making his way to the wooden cupboards above the sink. Sipping every now and then on the semi skinned liquid, Ronnie pulled out a box of children's sugary cereal, dropping it onto the island in the middle of the kitchen, along with the milk. He then grabbed a bowl from the next cupboard, and a spoon from the drawers below the sink.
Sitting himself down on one of the stools, Ronnie started pouring both cereals and milk into the bowl, digging his spoon into them and stuffing a handful in his eager, hungry mouth. His brown eyes glanced momentarily out of the window, flinching at the sudden blast of light that flashed through his eyeballs and into his tired brain. The crunchy texture of the cereals on his tongue sharpened his senses as the sweet, chocolatey taste drowned the now moist muscle. Ronnie felt his muscles relax a little, chewing robotically on the food as he spooned more and more cereal into his mouth, his colourful stomach growling in appreciation.
An hour and a half later, Ronnie found himself answering the door to a shockingly colourful and pierced woman. Meg. Her bright purple hair shone in the excruciating and unwelcome sunlight, her lip ring glinting and dancing over the soft, red painted flesh as the pink tip of her tongue darted out to fiddle with it every now and then. Bright green eyes, covered with deep, midnight blue eyeshadow flashed up into brown ones, excited and eager to party. The pale skin of her body was covered by tight, leather jeans, biker boots and a scarlet vest with the words "Tear your apart" printed on it. Tattoos covered the pale canvas of her arms, bright ink flashing marvellously in the sun, and Ronnie couldn't help but, for the perhaps millionth time, admire the swirling shapes and beautiful pictures that painted his friend's life story on her body.
"Morning!" Meg's happy voice pierced the air, making Ronnie wince and grunt in response, slouching out towards his friend's battered car. With a small chuckle and a shake of her purple head, Meg reached out and closed the front door of Ronnie's house, quickly rushing down the stone steps leading to her car. She unlocked the vehicle excitedly, jumping into the driver's seat and grinning at Ronnie, who sat, with a grumpy expression on his face, in the passenger's.
"You look good," Meg complimented as she zoomed off down the road, nodding in approval at the rockstar's choice in attire. He'd decided to wear a pair of bright red and white jeans, ripped just above the knees. These were accompanied by a white vest with the photo of a tongue darting out to lick the corner of painted red lips printed on it. The outfit was completed by a pair of black, pointy boots and an equally dark leather jacket, adorned with safety pins and badges. Hair carefully straightened, eyes covered in black eyeliner and mouth twitching up into a smirk, Ronnie muttered a small "thank you" before turning his attention to the radio,flicking from station to station in search of music worthy of his hearing. He found none.
"So what's this party all about?" The man asked, huffing as he clicked the radio off and sat back in the leather seat, the material ripped just above his head, letting the public see the spongy substance used to create the objects of supposed comfort.
"I already told you, vampire. My friend Danny got divorced and he's celebrating," Meg said with an exasperated sigh and a roll of her bright green eyes. Ronnie choked back laughter.
"Must have been a pretty shit wife," he managed to say, covering his sneering, laughing mouth with his brightly coloured hand. He saw Meg shrug out of the corner of his eye.
"I don't really give a shit about that. There's free booze."
"Good point," the rockstar said, chuckling at her blunt comment, his eyes on the road. Despite his grumpy demeanour early (well, early for him) that morning, Ronnie felt a slight spark of excitement bubble in the pit of his stomach. He hated crowds, strangers and parties. He hated booze, thanks to his past, but he could still have a good time. There would be some interesting characters, and he was secretly hoping this Danny would end up drunk enough to babble out the surely hilarious story of his failed marriage.
Ronnie settled back down into the seat, a small smirk on his lips as he waited to arrive. He was certainly looking forward to it.
Well, what did you think? As I've mentioned in the unnecessarily long A/N earlier, I would greatly appreciate some feedback as to wether or not this story is worth continuing.
Thank you for reading, it means a lot to me, 'cus, admittedly, I'm pretty nervous about this.
I have to sadly warn you guys that I won't be able to post that often, for I am lacking a computer to write on, and will have to use my phone, so my sincere apologies if chapters are too short, or messy, because it's fucking hard to write on that blasted little thing.
Anyway! Enough of my ranting, I shall hopefully see you guys soon! :)
B xo
B xo
Eyes unblinking eyes glittered maliciously in the artificial light that buzzed from the ceiling. Long, fuzzy legs pitter pattered across the squeaky clean, wooden floor as the spider almost silently made its way towards the open window, searching for freedom. Sunlight feebly attempted to bleed past the blinds that guarded the messy room from being exposed to the outside world. The room of a rich, secretly troubled and, although loved by many, lonely man who's past terrorised him in the night. He lay in a tangle of white, crisp sheets, large pillows and colourful limbs. His jet black hair was sprawled out over one of the pillows, some rebellious strands sticking to his sweat tainted, narrow face, the salty droplets dribbling down his olive skin. Brown eyes smudged with black eyeliner followed the spider, eyelids drooping slightly as the rockstar slowly pulled himself back into consciousness.
Suddenly, the white, plastic phone that most of the time sat silently on the small wooden table beside the bed shrieked out its piercing, shrill ringing, the sound sending a stabbing, throbbing pain shooting through the man's head. He groaned, pushing himself up into a sitting position, his sweaty back resting against the headboard of the bed, hand blindly patting across the table in search of the torturous object that sadly kept the rockstar glued to society. Finally, he curled his inked fingers around the object, pulling it up to his reluctant ear.
"Hello?" Ronnie Radke's voice, gruff with sleep and cigarette smoke, floated wearily into the air. The man pushed his messy, jet black hair out of his brown eyes, noticing with a small grimace how the ends were starting to curl upwards, tickling his chin. He'd have to straighten them again.
"Ronnie, please tell me you're up," the familiar, soft voice of his friend, Meg, crackling through the receiver. Her chalky skin, red tainted lips and thick black eyeliner splashed across the rockstar's hazy mind as he groaned impatiently down the phone, earning an exasperated yet amused sigh from the woman on the other end.
"You seriously need to get up, man, it's almost three," Meg drawled; Ronnie could picture her rolling her sharp, bright green eyes at her own mental image of him. He groaned again, his childish actions sending his friend into a small, choking fit of giggles - something that had never failed to annoy Ronnie about her.
"I don't need to get up," the man grumbled. Nonetheless, he kicked away the sheets that covered his half naked body, making no further move to stand and prepare himself for the day.
"Uh, yeah, you do, actually, you cheese pussy. Remember that party I invited you to ages ago? It happens to be today, in about... An hour and a half. Think you can get your pretty little ass ready for then?"
"Who says I'm going?" Ronnie shot back, Meg sighing yet again at his response.
"I do," she simply stated, knowing that, if he refused, Ronnie would find himself being dragged out of his uncared for house by his curly, unprepared hair. Ronnie sensed the threat in Meg's voice, and, sighing, he pushed himself off the mattress, standing next to the bedside table, shifting from foot to foot as the cold from the floor seeped onto his skin.
"I'm up," he mumbled, suppressing a yawn.
"Awesome, I'll pick you up at half four," his friend's excited voice crackled into his ear, and, it's that parting message, Ronnie heard the comforting beeping of the line going dead.
The phone dropped out of the rockstar's hand, hanging loosely by its cord merely a few centimetres of rom the ground, allowing Ronnie to have that precious hour and a half to get ready for an e net he was reluctant to attending to to himself. Privacy was essential in the man's life, despite the lack of it. Stretching, ignoring the sunlight that seemingly desperately attempted to blast into the chaotic room, Ronnie made his lazy way out through the door and down the carpeted steps to his insanely large kitchen. He knew the greatness of his house was unnecessary, but due to the troubles leaking through his mind and dreams, he felt the need to impress those who visited him. Especially the men, women, teenagers and children who didn't know who he was. Although that was a minority. The rockstar swung open the fridge, grabbing the half empty carton of milk as he kicked the source of cold air shut, making his way to the wooden cupboards above the sink. Sipping every now and then on the semi skinned liquid, Ronnie pulled out a box of children's sugary cereal, dropping it onto the island in the middle of the kitchen, along with the milk. He then grabbed a bowl from the next cupboard, and a spoon from the drawers below the sink.
Sitting himself down on one of the stools, Ronnie started pouring both cereals and milk into the bowl, digging his spoon into them and stuffing a handful in his eager, hungry mouth. His brown eyes glanced momentarily out of the window, flinching at the sudden blast of light that flashed through his eyeballs and into his tired brain. The crunchy texture of the cereals on his tongue sharpened his senses as the sweet, chocolatey taste drowned the now moist muscle. Ronnie felt his muscles relax a little, chewing robotically on the food as he spooned more and more cereal into his mouth, his colourful stomach growling in appreciation.
An hour and a half later, Ronnie found himself answering the door to a shockingly colourful and pierced woman. Meg. Her bright purple hair shone in the excruciating and unwelcome sunlight, her lip ring glinting and dancing over the soft, red painted flesh as the pink tip of her tongue darted out to fiddle with it every now and then. Bright green eyes, covered with deep, midnight blue eyeshadow flashed up into brown ones, excited and eager to party. The pale skin of her body was covered by tight, leather jeans, biker boots and a scarlet vest with the words "Tear your apart" printed on it. Tattoos covered the pale canvas of her arms, bright ink flashing marvellously in the sun, and Ronnie couldn't help but, for the perhaps millionth time, admire the swirling shapes and beautiful pictures that painted his friend's life story on her body.
"Morning!" Meg's happy voice pierced the air, making Ronnie wince and grunt in response, slouching out towards his friend's battered car. With a small chuckle and a shake of her purple head, Meg reached out and closed the front door of Ronnie's house, quickly rushing down the stone steps leading to her car. She unlocked the vehicle excitedly, jumping into the driver's seat and grinning at Ronnie, who sat, with a grumpy expression on his face, in the passenger's.
"You look good," Meg complimented as she zoomed off down the road, nodding in approval at the rockstar's choice in attire. He'd decided to wear a pair of bright red and white jeans, ripped just above the knees. These were accompanied by a white vest with the photo of a tongue darting out to lick the corner of painted red lips printed on it. The outfit was completed by a pair of black, pointy boots and an equally dark leather jacket, adorned with safety pins and badges. Hair carefully straightened, eyes covered in black eyeliner and mouth twitching up into a smirk, Ronnie muttered a small "thank you" before turning his attention to the radio,flicking from station to station in search of music worthy of his hearing. He found none.
"So what's this party all about?" The man asked, huffing as he clicked the radio off and sat back in the leather seat, the material ripped just above his head, letting the public see the spongy substance used to create the objects of supposed comfort.
"I already told you, vampire. My friend Danny got divorced and he's celebrating," Meg said with an exasperated sigh and a roll of her bright green eyes. Ronnie choked back laughter.
"Must have been a pretty shit wife," he managed to say, covering his sneering, laughing mouth with his brightly coloured hand. He saw Meg shrug out of the corner of his eye.
"I don't really give a shit about that. There's free booze."
"Good point," the rockstar said, chuckling at her blunt comment, his eyes on the road. Despite his grumpy demeanour early (well, early for him) that morning, Ronnie felt a slight spark of excitement bubble in the pit of his stomach. He hated crowds, strangers and parties. He hated booze, thanks to his past, but he could still have a good time. There would be some interesting characters, and he was secretly hoping this Danny would end up drunk enough to babble out the surely hilarious story of his failed marriage.
Ronnie settled back down into the seat, a small smirk on his lips as he waited to arrive. He was certainly looking forward to it.
Well, what did you think? As I've mentioned in the unnecessarily long A/N earlier, I would greatly appreciate some feedback as to wether or not this story is worth continuing.
Thank you for reading, it means a lot to me, 'cus, admittedly, I'm pretty nervous about this.
I have to sadly warn you guys that I won't be able to post that often, for I am lacking a computer to write on, and will have to use my phone, so my sincere apologies if chapters are too short, or messy, because it's fucking hard to write on that blasted little thing.
Anyway! Enough of my ranting, I shall hopefully see you guys soon! :)
B xo
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