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misfits-in-motion · 3 months ago

Text

pluck my strings

(ray toro x reader)

☾ — not proofread, not word counted, this is RAW everyone. first public story in years. crazy guys. trying to keep it gender neutral for my folks but,,, i am but a molar — ☾

summary: you're a guitarist coming into the 2000s emo scene. much like many others, you have just a basic knowledge of guitar. thus, feeling a little bold, you contact your friend with the most knowledge. and,,, yeah, maybe you just wanted an excuse to see him. when you finally do make it to the studio, you can't help but let your mind wander. can anyone blame you? he's just so close....

tw?: uhhhhmm not that i can think of. sliiiiight smut if you squint. really just suggestive and tense.

☾-☾-☾

⠀Your band had come in with a fever. One second, you were working job to job, trying to desperately cram your hobbies into your free time whilst also managing friendships and your ever-crumbling dating life. Then, one half-slurred, half-mumbled, half-thought hangout idea spewed by one of your close friends led to this moment. You had a show in exactly two weeks, and still only knew maybe five or so chords. Sure, you could switch between them pretty fast and come up with decent riffs and progressions, but nothing that would sound like more than a dead kennedys knock off on stage.

⠀While my chemical romance was making their way up the ranks, they still held you and your band in close regard. You and the guys had been tight since early 2002, and you even witnessed a lot of bullets being made. which, to say the least, showed off their talents. Out of the bunch, you tended to lean toward Ray for a number of reasons. He was quiet, but not terribly quiet. Quiet outwardly, but not in an introverted sense. Ray just reserved his words for when they mattered. You could appreciate that, along with his utterly charming smile, insanely good taste in movies, appreciation for music, among other things.

⠀It seemed everyone but Ray knew you had a total thing for him. Even when you called him up in the middle of your friend's mom's house, they snickered and made obscene gestures toward you deserving of a middle finger from hell, that of which you gave to them in full.

⠀Now, standing outside the recording studio, your previous idea felt a bit more ominous. Just as you were heading in, Frank was heading out. You bumped shoulders, that unmistakeable little laugh coming from the other guitarist.

⠀"Gotcha!" Frank grinned, turning to face you as you turned simultaneously. "Knew you were coming. Ray won't shut up about it."

⠀"Oh?" He'd piqued your interest. You couldn't help the smile on your lips, your head tilted a bit to the side as you watched Frank. Maybe you'd entertain this. "How are you so sure?"

⠀Frank playfully glanced off into the sky, hands in his pockets as he rocked on his heels with an excited little smile. "Oh, you knoooow," He shrugged, "Just the way he instantly got up and started making sure everything was juuust right for your arrival. I can recite it verbatim, dude. 'you know who called-? yeah! yeah. gonna help 'em with some guitar stuff- hey, do you remember where that one amp is-?'. Gay." Frank shook his head with a laugh.

⠀The image in your mind brought some warmth to your chest. He was that excited just to see you?

⠀"You guys are so gay. Look at that fuckin' smile on your face. Unbelieveable. Well, don't let me keep you from your date."

⠀Before you could protest, Frank had already turned and raised a hand in goodbye, leaving you outside the doors of the studio in the brisk air.

⠀You turned, looking at the doors with slightly wider eyes than a few moments before. Figuring the last thing you wanted to do was keep Ray waiting, you pulled open the door and walked inside.

⠀As usual, the smell hit you first. Wood, metal, a bit of sweaty musk, and a certain "clean" smell, but clean the way carpets are. It was warmer inside, but only warm enough to keep everyone from shivering considering the instruments and equipment were top priority. You walked down the hall, finally finding the recording room Ray was settled in. As if on cue, he looked up to see you through the window in the door. You smiled, and waved enthusiastically.

⠀Ray returned the smile, and you opened the door to realize there was no one else but him. Well of course there was no one else but him, but still it was a bit jarring to be alone with him. It was always a bit difficult to come to terms with the fact that you had the fattest crush on Ray. It was obvious to a pathetic point, hence the embarrassment.

"Glad you could make it. I mean, I was getting a little worried, y'know."

"Oh- pff, yeah. I had to walk here... No car, and all..."

"What-!?"

⠀The way Ray's jaw dropped made you nearly shrink.

"You walked here? Dude-! I-..." He let out a small laugh of disbelief, "I could have come picked you up. It's way too cold outside to be walking. Besides, what if someone kidnapped you?" Ray shook his head as he pulled two chairs close together, facing each other.

"I mean, I didn't want to bother you-"

"Oh shut up! You can always bother me. Always. Takes only a little gas to get to you. And if it meant you were gonna be warm, then that's what I would have opted for."

⠀Again, that same little smile crept up your lips along with a certain warm flush to your face. It was nice for him to worry so much. For him to care. It almost gave you a liiiiittle spark of hope that he felt the same.

⠀You pulled off your jacket, which Ray was quick to take. Just for a moment, his finger tips brushed along your biceps. The ghostly sensation was enough to raise instant goosebumps along your arms. And oddly enough, you couldn't help but think about how warm his touch was despite it being barely there. You wondered what it'd feel like for him to hold you with purpose. With his hands placed strategically, with meaning. Just for a second, you wondered what that warmth would feel like on the more private areas of your body. How would his hand feel clasping the back of your neck? Cradling the underside of your thighs snaking further up until he could cradle your ass in his palms? Would he be gentle? No. No, Ray would be gentle in theory. But he'd want to grab you. Hold you. Make sure you fit just right in his hands, slotted together like pieces of a puzzle.

"You ready?"

⠀You turned quickly. "Yeah! Yeah, sorry. Lot on my mind, I totally zoned out."

"All good... You okay? Do you want to talk about it?"

⠀You could have laughed if you weren't so tensed with both embarrassment and anxiety. Paralyzed with the realization that was now setting in: the man you had dumbly imagined a future with, sex with, dates with, and intimacy with was now going to be mere inches away from you while your mind strayed and tried to come up with every last sexual situation this moment could lead to. What a set up.

"No! No, it's nothing like that!" You gave a nervous laugh, waving your hand as you finally convinced your feet to move and walk you to the chair beside him. "Just... Nervous I guess. It'll be my first time playing on stage like that. I don't think high school band and choir count." You laughed again, softer this time. What you didn't see was the way Ray's lips curled up slightly at your more genuine laugh. The sound was sweet, no matter how much you tried to deny it. He loved it.

"That's okay. Here, we'll start simple? Okay? Just nailing down some scales and stuff? You gotta remember scales from band and all, right? These'll be your base blocks."

⠀You gave a few nods and desperately tried to focus on the guitar he placed in your hands. It only took a few seconds to realize it was one of his personal electrics. Ray carefully reached forward and guided your fingers into position. Again, you felt that same rush of heat. His hands were larger than yours, and now closely studying them, you wondered what they'd feel like in your hair. Running through it, or perhaps holding it tightly. Maybe even tugging on it.

"My fingers go here?" You quickly tried to end run your thoughts by paying attention, which was most likely important considering these lessons were meant to help you get ready for being in a proper band.

"Yeah. Just like that. See? You're already catching on."

⠀The little amount of praise nearly made your stomach jump into your chest. It was practically like he was trying to give your mind ammunition to fluster you with.

"Alright. You've done picking before, right?"

"Just some. I'm not too good, if I'm being honest."

"Don't say that. I'm sure you're great, but don't put yourself down. Try picking top string to bottom string. That's your low E to high E."

⠀You did as he instructed, and for a little while it was just that. Ray told you what to do, showing you little tips and tricks along with some position corrections and adjustments while you desperately tried to fight everything off in your mind. Now wasn't the time to debate whether Ray was into you. Now wasn't the time to question if Ray found you just as attractive as you found him. Attractive didn't even cut it.

⠀It seemed everyone knew about your 'thing with Ray', so you had spoken to your friends about it in the past. And boy, could you gush. Between his eyes that seemed to twinkle and shine whenever he was interested in something, to his smile that creased up his eyes in the most adorable way, and then there were his lips which were so plush and perfect looking. They paired perfectly with his cut jaw, which led down to an oddly hot-looking neck, and don't even get started on his broad shoulders-

"Are you really okay?"

You nearly jumped three feet in the air.

"Fine! Sorry, I'm so sorry... I think I'm just ready to move on. If you think I'm ready, that is."

"Yeah, I'd say you're pretty good on scales for now. I mean, if it comes down to it I can just give you another lesson. Meet back here again and polish everything, you know?"

"I... I'd really appreciate that, yeah."

"Great. Then we'll meet again for lessons. Until then, why don't we move on to some chord progressions?"

"Sounds good to me."

⠀Ray explained a few shapes, but it was a bit difficult considering he didn't have a guitar in his hands, too. He was moreso explaining them to you, guiding your fingers, and then having you strum. And for the simpler chords, it worked. But as they grew more complex, you could feel the gears slowing in your brain. Not to mention, being able to smell Ray's shampoo, deodorant, and cologne didn't help. You were growing desperate. Fast. You wanted to smell like him. Be so close, so enveloped in him, that your skin took to his cologne. Your skin smelled like his skin.

"Okay, this obviously isn't going amazingly, so let's try something a little different. I'm gonna move you, okay?"

⠀You nearly got up before you felt your chair move with you on it. Ray had tugged your chair over directly in front of his. So close you could see his shoes beside your chair. Then, his arms came from behind you. One of his hands settled on your waist, the other wrapped around your hand on the fret board. You could scream.

⠀He was so close. You could feel the heat radiating off of him. Hold me. Hold me, not the guitar. Say whatever you'd like, just hold me, please. I want your arms to squeeze me.

⠀You decided to royally fuck any mental restraint now. You wouldn't feed into it physically, but there was no point restraining your thoughts now. God, this had to be purposeful. Friends don't hold each other gently by the waist, thumb absentmindedly stroking back and forth along the fabric of your shirt. He had to be moving in on you, and you weren't complaining a bit.

"Here. Your index, or first finger, goes here, second here, third here, and your pinky goes here. Hold that, and strum a few times."

⠀His voice had dropped lower. Slightly softer, but richer. He was speaking just to you. Just for you. Saying words he only wanted you to here. The way his fingers tightened ever so slightly around your side made your breath hitch slightly. You assumed it was because you strummed the chord beautifully.

"Sorry, is this okay?" Ray asked gently, his voice carrying a slight gravelly undertone from being lowered.

⠀Realizing what he meant, you flashed a reassuring smile. "You're okay." You nodded a few times.

"Good."

⠀Ray's hand shifted a bit lower, his grip hugging the side of your thigh as he moved in closer. His head was over your shoulder and you could feel his chest pressed against your back. If it weren't for the stupid fucking chair, you'd be able to be perfectly snug against his figure. And, fuck, did you want to be.

"Let's try another chord. You're doing great."

⠀Ray's lips nearly brushed along your ear. You could feel his breath warming your skin, even feeling his chest rise and fall. If you paid any closer attention, you would be able to tell that his heart was racing the same way yours was. Being so close to you was a blessing for Ray. One you didn't exactly know about, but could guess by now. His fingers guided yours again, and made a different chord. You strummed, and and a string buzzed obnoxiously, as if wanting to be seen.

"That's okay, I think it's your pinky. Shift it a little to the right. Strum again?"

You did as he directed.

"Perfect." Along with his praise, he gave a small rub and squeeze to the side of your thigh. There was a small, trapped sound that caught in your throat, whether out of surprise or enjoyment. Either way, you didn't see the smile plastered on Ray's face.

⠀Just as Ray was about to say something else, his phone buzzed in his back pocket and played a Bauhaus song.

"Shit- sorry. One second."

⠀Just as his warmth had wrapped around you, it was gone twice as fast. He had pulled away and gotten up, answering the phone in the corner of the room. If you listened close enough, you would be able to make out whatever he was saying. You opted to pluck mindlessly at the guitar, even practicing a few of the picking patterns Ray had taught you.

"Okay, sorry about that. Gerard called, wanted to know if I would be down to practice with everyone else. Which, in Gerard talk, means everyone else wants to practice and needs me too. But, uh, I wanted to ask you, first." He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"Ask me..?"

"If you didn't mind ending this lesson here. But not forever-! Just... For now. How does same time tomorrow sound?"

⠀You stood, leaning over to switch off the amp before you unplugged the cable and guitar. You handed the guitar over to Ray with a sweet smile, that of which he returned. It wasn't hard to see you were both seeing each other as newer people.

"It sounds perfect to me."

"Perfect. So I'll... Come pick you up, too?"

"I dunno. Maybe I'll... Walk here again. Just so that you'll have to do whatever you did back there to warm me up."

⠀Ray faltered for a moment, then laughed as he registered you addressing the moment. "Right. I'll do you one better. I'll pick you up a little early and make sure you're nice and warm in my car, yeah?" Ray took the guitar from you and put it away, safely in its case. He then grabbed your jacket, and held it open for you to slip your arms into.

"I don't think I can argue with that one." You grinned.

"Good. It's settled." Ray helped your coat on, then rested his hands on your biceps. He leaned down beside your shoulder again. "See you tomorrow?"

⠀Your face flushed again, this time, you turned slightly so that your lips were a few inches from his own.

"See you tomorrow."

☾ — mueheheheeeee i hope this was good. any comments are greatly appreciated, positive or constructive critcism, either way i'm down. ermmm debating a part two?? but idk it feels kinda finished to me ',:|. either way, hope u liked ittttt tags n shiz below but yeah :3 — ☾

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xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx · 9 months ago

Note

Mcr headcanon: y/n (gn) is starring in a horror movie and they’re character d!es in the movie.

Like they d!e in a HORRIBLE way, like horrifying way, how do the boys react to it?

TW: mentions of a fictional character's death, mentions of food, mentions of jealousy

Gerard

I'm literally on my way back from a Yosakoi festival after getting up at 3am (it's 9pm currently, I had 4 hours of sleep), and my feet have been in soaking wet shoes for the past 10 hours (I think they're starting to develop gills) because the rainy season decided to made a comeback and they had to cancel the fireworks because of that (at a festival that's called a "fire carnival" of all events), and you're coming with this? Not formatted properly because I'm literally sitting in a bus, that's driving through the Kyūshū night while I have glitter stones stuck to my face and two braids with Yukata-hair-accessories on my head.

WC: ???

Assuming Gerard knows what's gonna happen, he's probably looking forward to it. He's sitting in your living room, watching the screen attentively, the snacks you were sharing long forgotten as his eyes follow the action. He's leant forward, ellbows on knees, asking "oh, is this where it happens?" in an almost gleeful voice. Depending on how sudden the scene happens, he either gets jumpscared or just follows the story like the most interesting lecture. Either way he ends up laughing, and leaning back into the couch once it's over, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and kissing your forehead. "Well done," he'll tell you with his lips pressed to your forehead.

Would he watch that movie again: sure! It's a good movie! Next time he'd like to discuss the foreshadowing of the ending through the use of colours and the weather in the early scenes of the movie.

Mikey

Mikey loves horror movies, and that his s/o is staring in one is just a major plus to him. He has a lot of experience with horro movies, so he catches on pretty early that your character is going to die, even if you didn't tell him. He would low-key get excited about it. A voice in the back of his head tells him that 15 or 20 years ago the idea of watching a character that has the face of a beloved person die on screen would have terrified him, even though he was very well able to tell fiction from reality, but now he just enjoys the action, as he feels you cuddled into his side. He might even go as far as offer ideas for even more gruesome deaths, or ways to make the character's death even more painful for the audience.

Would he watch that movie again: absolutely! Has the potential to become a new favourite of his.

Side note: my seatmate just fell asleep on my shoulder. I shall not move until she wakes up.

Ray

Ray would generally be pretty chill about it. He grew up with horror movies too, and he is used to seeing you on screen, so he isn't all too bothered by it, but probably more bothered than Gerard. He doesn't show it all too openly, only pulls you in after the scene is over and praises your work. The only indication that he is more affected by it than he lets on is when he pulls you in a little tighter that night, holding you close to his warm body with his nose buried against your neck. (Seatmate just tried sitting up, and failed. Head is back on my shoulder.)

Would he watch that movie again: he wouldn't necessarily bring it up by himself. If he wants to see you act, there are other movies you're in, where you get a happy end, or at least don't die (he prefers watching those over watching your character die, even if he has to suffer through watching you kiss another actor or actress in front of the camera. It always makes him a bit more self-conscious watching you kiss those perfect people, even if it's not real, and he get a bit more clingy than usual for a few days afterwards.)

Seatmate sat up again, is leaning towards the other side now.

Frank

Frank plays is cool, but isn't. Like the others he has seen enough horror movies and has seen you enough on screen. He's even okay with your characters making out with other characters on screen, even though he does have a (well controlled) possessive side that usually tries to act up when some person is hitting on you. (Seatmate's head is back on my shoulder. She's so cute.) So he knows he shouldn't feel that pit in his stomach opening, it's just fiction after all, you're right here next to him, babbling about how hot the studio was that day while playing with his fingers. Still he closes his eyes at the last shot showing your character staring up right past the camera with lifeless eyes. He has watched your characters die on screen before, but something about the way this is portrayed hits different. "Whoa, that looked pretty real," he'd chuckle, his voice a little more shaky than he'd like to admit, "rad acting there!" Luckily you know him well enough to see through his facade. You know he's self-conscious about his feelings towards this scene, so you don't address it directly, but you scoot a little closer to him at night, and he takes the invitation, and wrappes you in his arms (which is rare, since he usually needs a little bit of space to fall asleep).

Would he watch that movie again: only if you asked and he couldn't come up with an excuse not to watch it. He'd rather not see this last shot of your face again.

And since nobody asked, you get a picture of our banner

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lucajayms · 5 months ago

Note

i sincerely apologize for the rant

pre bullets gerard plsplsplspls!!!! they have an office crush at cartoon network then she moves away without telling anyone and they replace her (CUBICLES BEST SONG EVER) so then he just keeps wondering what may have happened, until mcr are playing like in another city during revenge era then mikey sees her in the crowd before a show and he goes to gerard right before going onstage and its like hey gerard remember that girl you talked about 24/7 in 2001, shes here tonight. and gee just freaks out while trying to play down the whole performance becase hes scared she wont like the whole fake blood/gay/screaming thing. then they finish the performance and he goes to find her and shes like all happy bc she knew he was gonna do much better things than to work at a shitty office. and shes a big comic book artist and does really weid like blood and vampire stuff so shes so happy that gerard also does weird blood vampire stuff. and then theyre happy and then the umbrella academy happens and yea

yea youre free to ignore this, i just have too much free time to imagine shit like this 👍

HELP I LOVE THIS SO SO MUCH!

CUBICLES

gerard way x reader she/her used use of y/n

masterlist

warnings: swearing!

"Maybe you could draw her more like this to bring out the background more so she's not just stiff," I instructed him. Gerard is a very talented artist, he just has a little bit of trouble deciding what to put where.

"But I feel like if she was a little different, due to her design, she'd go flat," Gerard argues, putting his pencil where he was describing.

I sigh as I place my hand delicately to my chin, trying to see what he's talking about. The deadline is soon and he's not done pitching these characters. "Honestly, Gerard? Whatever feels right. You'll get her."

"You sure?" He asks, seeking confirmation in my words.

I smile, nodding my head, "Yeah. Deadline is tomorrow, just do whatever feels right!" I say before I'm off to my cubicle to continue my project.

I knew he was looking at me. For weeks now, it had become a pattern—one I could almost draw if I could figure out how to capture that lingering gaze in ink. He thought he was subtle, keeping his distance and asking me barely relevant questions about some “project” or “character design” he’d been working on. Gerard was charming, though; there was no denying that. Quiet, a little too good at staring at his desk, and adorably oblivious to how easy it was to read him.

“Hey, uh, (Y/N)?” I looked up from my sketchbook, where I’d been mindlessly drawing a graveyard scene—something I had an odd fascination with lately. Gerard was standing there, hands stuffed in his pockets, wearing that awkward half-smile that looked better on him than it should.

“Gerard,” I said, glancing up with a smirk. “To what do I owe the honor?”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I…uh…just wanted to see what you were working on.”

I flipped my sketchbook shut, even though I knew he was dying to see what I’d been drawing. “Just some stuff. You’d probably think it’s too creepy.”

“Try me.”

Maybe it was because I wanted to test him, see how he’d react to what was under the surface, but I opened the book back up and turned it to face him. His eyes widened as he took in the vampires, blood, and dark cemeteries I’d sprawled across the pages.

“You…actually drew all of this?”

I shrugged, trying to keep my cool. “It’s not much. Just whatever’s in my head.”

He laughed, this soft, surprised sound. “Whatever’s in your head is amazing.” He paused, his eyes lingering a second too long.

I grinned, leaning back in my chair. “Well maybe not everything, Way.” I tossed my pen onto my desk, feigning nonchalance. “Can’t have too many weirdos like me around. Bad for the office’s reputation.”

And that's why I left.

Maybe I should’ve told him I was leaving. I hated the idea of going without a goodbye, but part of me figured I’d see him again. He’d get over it. Life had a way of carrying people in different directions, and honestly? I couldn’t stand the thought of another month behind that desk. I needed to be somewhere I could let these ideas out, somewhere that didn’t expect me to keep my weirdness behind a closed sketchbook.

The day I left, I watched the office fade from my rearview mirror, fingers tapping the steering wheel as a familiar guilt crept in. I didn’t leave him my number or my address or even a hint of where I’d gone. Some part of me hoped he’d figure it out. But after that, there was just silence.

Gerard

She left without a word. Just…gone. I tried to keep going like I didn’t notice, told myself it wasn’t a big deal. But the absence gnawed at me, creeping into every sketch and unfinished character. (Y/N) was gone, and I had no clue where she’d gone or why. I stopped asking questions after a while, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her. The thought became like an echo in my mind, constant and inescapable, pushing me to drown it out with anything I could find.

And I did.

One show after another, one drink, one line, whatever I could find to keep the silence at bay. The stage helped a little—at least there, I had the lights in my eyes and the noise blocking out the mess in my head. I’d stand in front of the crowd, hands dripping with fake blood, trying to exorcise whatever pieces of myself felt missing. But then the high would fade, and I’d be left in a dark room, trying to ignore the question that refused to die.

Where did she go?

I kept the band going, kept pretending it didn’t matter, kept letting the weight build. It wasn’t like I had any choice. The shows were packed, and the screams of the crowd felt like both a relief and a punishment. They had no idea. No idea that some days, it felt like I’d never get off this damn ride, that maybe I’d crash and burn right here. But something shifted in 2004. I couldn’t explain it—maybe it was seeing my friends’ faces or feeling the burn of another empty night. But I knew that if I kept going like this, I’d lose everything. I’d lose myself.

I finally made the decision to clean up, and in August 2004, I was clean. Free. My body hated me for it, and my brain wasn’t much friendlier, but I had to get clean. I couldn’t keep living on the edge of destruction. Every day after that, it felt like I was shedding pieces of the person I’d become just to survive. By the time I left, I was…well, I was alive. And that had to be enough.

It had been nearly a year since I’d gotten clean, and for the first time, it felt like I could really breathe on stage again. I could look out at the faces in the crowd and see them. Really see them, not just the blur of movement and lights I’d been numbing myself to. This was what I’d always wanted. This was where I wanted to be.

"MANHATTAN!" I scream into the mic and the crowd before more goes wild. "We are going to FUCK SOME SHIT UP TONIGH!"

And as I say that, Mikey plays the beginning of Give Em' Hell Kid. The set goes without hiccups, the crowd is perfect, and the most I've seen in a few weeks. Right as we leave the stage before the encore, Frank grabs me by my collar.

"Holy shit, Gee," He starts, and concern bubbles in my stomach. Did I do something wrong?

"What? What is it?"

He shakes his head vigorously, "I don't know if I'm tripping, but I swear to God I saw the girl you keep drawing in the crowd."

Fuck.

"What?!" I exclaim.

"Thirty seconds to encore!" One of the stagehands yells.

"Frank, where did you see her?" I ask, frantic. There's no possible way she could be here tonight. Why would she be here tonight.

"Our left, by the barricade. I think?" He explains, looking up to recount exactly where he saw her. My heart thuds against my ribcage as Frank’s words sink in, and I feel my throat tighten. (Y/N)? Here? After all these years?

"Ten seconds!" the stagehand yells, clapping his hands. Mikey shoots me a quick look, and Frank gives me a small, reassuring nod. There’s no time to think or even process—I’m barely holding onto the last traces of composure as we rush back on stage. I grab the mic, trying to get my focus back on the crowd, but every nerve in me is lit up, wondering if (Y/N) is really here tonight.

“MANHATTAN!” I shout again, forcing energy into my voice, hoping it’s enough to cover the wild surge of emotions that’s slamming through me. “YOU READY FOR ONE LAST ROUND?”

The crowd screams, and the band jumps into Helena, the encore I should be ready to pour my soul into. But all I can think about is her—her face, the way she used to sketch, her laugh. The lights are blinding, and I try to keep my focus on the crowd, but my eyes keep searching, desperate to find a glimpse of her. I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but by the end of the song, I swear I see her—a flash of her hair, bright eyes, her face half-turned away in the crush of people, but unmistakably her.

The song ends, and we give a final shout before exiting the stage. As soon as we’re out of sight of the crowd, I turn to Frank, breathless.

“You’re absolutely sure it was her?” I ask, gripping his shoulder.

“Fuck, I don't know how accurate your drawings are,” he says, his voice serious. “Bit it was her, Gee. I’m sure of it.”

“Holy shit,” I breathe, running a hand through my hair as the adrenaline surges through me again. "Where do I even start looking?"

Frank raises an eyebrow. “I’d start by getting your ass back out there before she disappears again. You just finished the show. You’ve got maybe five minutes before the crowd starts spilling out.”

I don’t waste another second. I dart down the steps, half-running, half-pushing past crew members as I head toward the audience exit. It feels like the longest, most insane few minutes of my life, weaving through the backstage area until finally, I’m in the thick of the crowd, scanning every face I can. And then—I see her.

She’s lingering by the side of the barricade, glancing around, half-smiling to herself like she might leave at any moment. She’s a little older, a little different, but I’d know her anywhere. I take a deep breath, feeling my hands start to shake, and then I call out, loud enough to cut through the noise.

“(Y/N)!”

She turns, her eyes finding mine, and for a moment, it’s like everything around us goes still. Her face lights up, and I swear I feel that same electricity that ran between us in the office all those years ago.

"Oh my god, you guys did so good!" She laughed, too, shaking her head. “Gee, look at you! Rockstar Gerard. I always knew you’d end up doing something wild, but I never expected…” She gestured at my blood-stained shirt and smeared makeup. “This.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, heat creeping up my face. “Yeah, well, it’s, uh, a little different from Cartoon Network, that’s for sure. But I never thought I’d see you at a show.”

“Oh, please,” she grinned, giving me a playful nudge. “I knew you’d be doing something big. You were always too talented to be stuck behind a desk, remember?”

I laughed, surprised by the surge of relief that came with her words. “Guess it’s been a while since anyone told me that.”

She softened, and something flickered across her face. “I'm sorry I disappeared. I had to move, and things got in the way, and…” Her voice trailed off, and she shrugged, a little awkwardly. “I never thought we’d run into each other again.”

“Same here,” I admitted, looking down. “But I’m glad we did. Even if it’s, uh…” I glanced at my blood-streaked hands, shaking my head. “Like this.”

She laughed, a bright, genuine sound, and I felt my nerves ease a little. “Honestly, I kind of love it. I’m doing comics, Gee. Lots of, you know…gory, bloody, vampire stuff. Seems like we’re both into weird stuff now.”

“Every time I go into a comicbook store, I look for your name.” I say, feeling a familiar spark of admiration light up in my chest.

“Yeah, well,” she shrugged, but her smile told me she was proud. “I kept drawing, kept pushing for it, and here we are. I got some stuff out that's been somewhat successful, but you—you’re the one really living the dream.”

It felt surreal, standing there with her, years and miles from where we’d left off. She was still (Y/N)—the girl who got me, who somehow saw through everything. But she was different, too. Confident, sharp, like she’d grown in ways I never got to see. And she was right here.

We fell into silence, the crowd thinning around us. Finally, I took a deep breath. “You know, after you left…I wasn’t great, to be honest.”

Her brow furrowed, and she gave me a sympathetic look. “I figured,” she said quietly. “It was a pretty messed-up time for both of us.”

I nodded, knowing she got it. “Yeah, I got pretty lost for a while. It took me…a lot to get back on track, but I’m good now. Clean, you know? And I’m just trying to keep my head on straight, one show at a time.”

She smiled, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder. “Good,” she said, her voice full of warmth. “That’s what you deserve, Gerard. You don’t need anything dragging you down.”

I felt something click into place then—a kind of peace I hadn’t felt in years. “Thanks, (Y/N). Really.”

She grinned, glancing around like she was taking in the whole scene again. “Hey, I think we’re due for a major coffee catch-up. I want to hear everything.”

I chuckled, feeling that old sense of ease wash over me. “Deal,” I said, grinning back. “But only if you show me your sketchbooks. I wanna see all the vampire blood and gore.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “You got it. Only fair, since I’ve got a feeling you’ve been drawing me for years anyway.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, and together, we walked out into the night, talking like no time had passed at all. And this time, I knew she wasn’t going anywhere.

(Y/N)

What a fucking life. Leaving Gerard like that in 2001 did something to me, you know? Fucked me up. I felt really fucking bad.

But it's okay. We're good. And by good? I mean my boyfriend is the fucking lead singer of My Chemical Romance. Like, who gets to say that?!

After their final tour ended, Gerard was bugging me more and more about his comic that he was writing and that he desperately wanted me to illustrate for it. Apparently, he had been working on it for around three years, and he wasn't getting anywhere by himself.

"I don't know, baby. I got deadlines," I always say, but God, who could say know to that pretty face of his.

And so I finally agreed to illustrate The Umbrella Academy.

And boy, did that change my life.

#my chemical romance #mcr #fanfiction #gerard way #frank iero #gerard way x reader #mikey way #my chem #mychemicalromance #ray toro

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littlesunshine1223 · 1 year ago

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KOBRA KID HEADCANONS??????

Kobra Kid NSFW Headcanons

- he prefers to be in charge but he does have his moments where he wants to be a good boy for you

- he might look like a twink to most people but the second the two of you are in the bedroom it’s a whole different story

- the only times he’ll submit to you completely is if he knows you’ve been having a rough day or if it’s your birthday

- he has a temper (just like Party Poison) and if you piss this snake off enough you’ll feel his bite because you won’t be able to walk the next day

- tug his hair, mark him up with hickeys, leave a perfect handprint on his ass, and edge him till he’s about to cry if you want him to submit for the night

- *Slaps roof of car* this bad boy can go for many many rounds and great potential to make you unable to walk properly for a week

- if you wear his jacket then go lay and spread out on his motorcycle then he will go feral and he’ll have to be drug off you

- his neck, sides, thighs, and chest are his most sensitive spots and if you leave hickeys on any of those places then he’ll get hard by just the sight or even when it’s mentioned

- wanna tease him and turn him on bend him over the nearest surface and whisper what you want to do to him/what you want him to do to you or simply wear his clothes and wait for him in your shared bedroom

- The other Killjoys in the diner threatened to kill you and bury you in the sand when they saw a big hickey on Kobra’s lower neck and collarbone but now the two of you never hear the end of it from Ghoul who likes to tease the two of you

- once he gets between your legs he doesn’t want to get out and if you try to pull him away he’ll whine like a dog and almost start crying from the thought you didn’t like him going down on you

- just reassure him and give him a few kisses and he’ll be on top of you in no time as he rails you into the mattress while praising you and giving you sloppy kisses

#kobra kid #kobra kid xreader #danger days the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #danger days #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #mcr fanfiction #mcr5 is real #mcr x reader #mcr5 #mcr tumblr #mcrmy #mcr #my chemical mikey #mikey way #mikey way x reader

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hearts4golbach · 1 month ago

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UPDATED MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE MASTERLIST HERE.

cheers peers!

#please get the reference #fanfiction #fanfic #hearts4golbach #smut #my chemical romance #oneshot #gerard way x reader #gerard way #frank iero x reader #frank iero #ray toro #ray toro x reader #mikey way #mikey way x reader #i take requests

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centralperkspoison · 2 years ago

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I Can See You - G. Way

PAIRING: Gerard Way x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: sexual references, a little fluffy.

SUMMARY: You and Gerard have known each other for years. When you finally confess to him, everything works out! But how do you keep it as a secret? (Based loosely on I Can See You by Taylor Swift)

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

OTHERS: me posting? whattttt?! this was highly inspired by the song I Can See You by Taylor Swift, so I recommend listening to that while you read. Also, I haven't posted a fic in like a year this is crazy. also!!! not my usual work, not that much fluff just more back story. idk i have wrote in a while so im sorry!

---

YOU KEPT EVERYTHING PROFESSIONAL. You and him only showed your true emotions behind closed doors. You'd brush past each other in the hallways most of the time ensuring to not let anyone catch on.

Of course, you and Gerard were friends to the public eye. You and him were the two lead singers of My Chemical Romance, but what happened behind closed doors stayed there.

You'd moved next door to the Way family when you were fairly young, quickly becoming friends with the two brothers despite the slight age differences; Mikey was three years older than you and Gerard was six years older, which is why in the beginning everything had to be quiet. But of course, you had kept your feelings for the nerdy older brother hidden since you were six, so that wouldn't be too hard.

When the band began recording for Bullets you had just turned eighteen and Gerard was almost twenty-five, which is when it first started.

"Why don't I understand basic song structure," You groaned. "You clearly have it down."

Gerard scoffed, "I do not have it down whatsoever, I just actually ask for input unlike someone who's stubborn as hell." He laughed.

It was only the two of you on the bus, the rest of the guys were inside a restaurant buying breakfast while before you traveled four hours to only record half the album for Bullets.

"Here, bring it over so I can look at it." He said, sitting up on the couch on the bus. You slowly walked towards him, hoping he wouldn't realize who it was about. You silently hoped he couldn't tell, then sat next to him and handed him the lyrics you had written so far. He began analyzing them and handed them back to you.

"It's good, but the bridge should have more meaning. You've described this person in such a beautiful light, then the bridge is just happily ever after? Include some of the struggle in the relationship." You nod, beginning to write. He watches you closely from over your shoulder causing you to face the other way and lay down on him so he could get a better view. This was nothing unusual for you two, it was normal for you to lay on him or anyone else in the band.

You took his words into consideration, then started writing lyrics along the lines of 'If only he knew,' and 'I could see you being my addiction, you could see me as a secret mission.' along with some more context.

"Hey, (Y/N)?" He called, you could feel his heart speed up from your spot on his chest. "Yes, Gee?" You say, looking up at him. "Who is this about?" He asked quietly, playing with your long hair. You dropped your pencil and sat up, facing him. "Is that really important right now?" "I mean not really, I'm just a bit curious." He says with a slight smirk across his face. You just shrug and walk to where you were sitting previously to the whole song structure conversation. Once you sit down, he began speaking again.

"I mean of course the description sounds a little similar, short black hair, hazel eyes, crooked smile," He says, walking behind your chair and gripping it and looking down at you from over the back of the tall chair. "I would say Frank, but his hair doesn't exactly fall under that category anymore, and when you think about it, I'm the only one with short black hair now." He smirks. He already knew, but he was just trying to play around and have a little fun before he had to make his own scary confession.

"God, okay Gerard, the song is about you." You roll your eyes trying to make it come out as if you're not afraid to say it. "Wait, you're actually admitting it?" "Yes, I have a big fat crush on you, now can you please just turn me down already so I can get over it sooner." You sigh, and he walks around your chair so you two are facing each other now.

"(Y/N), I'm not rejecting you," He smiles. "C'mere." He says, opening his arms for a hug, and you quickly throw yourself in his arms. You two linger in the hug for a while before you take a step back and look up at him. You two were so close your noses were touching.

"May I?" He asks, moving his hand up so he's cupping your jaw. You lean into his touch and nod.

After you two established your feelings, your situationship turned into a relationship that ranged from sweet moments to insanely sexual ones, not that you had a problem with that, of course. It was just difficult keeping it from your best friends.

Eventually, fans began sniffing the two of you out. How you would always sit next to each other in interviews, when you were on stage you would always seem as if you were singing to him and he was singing to you, when they watched Life On The Murder Scene every time there was a video on the bus you'd have your legs sprawled out on top of his or you'd be laying on him, and even away from the bus he'd always send you looks.

You started seeing the fans reactions on Twitter in the two of your comment sections.

(Y/N)(Y/L/N): Day off with my boys! <3

mcrlover616: OMG R U AND GERARD DATING

frerard4li4e: Gerard belongs to Frank, girl. Back off.

bugmomma24356: You and Gerard are so cute ug! <3

After trying to cover up everything to the best of your abilities, nothing made them believe you, even your own band mates started thinking the two of you were together, so you two had to act more distant.

No more laying on him, no more lingering hugs, and definitely no more making out on stage just to "make the crowd go wild".

The two of you had to be entirely secret for almost a year now, and it was the first night of your new tour, Rise Against the Black Parade.

Gerard brushes his shoulder against yours in the hallway while you two walk into the dressing room, shooting you a look. "Oh sorry, (Y/N)." He says quietly and slides his arm across your back before sitting two seats away from you in the dressing room.

Makeup took a while, but you and Gerard were the last to finish. Once your artists left the room he sprung up to lock the door, and quickly met you in the middle of the room.

He rested his hands on your hips and you hand your arms on the back of his neck, while he pressed his lips to yours aggressively. You parted from him for a moment, "Now don't go messing up our makeup," You smirked. "We can fix it ourselves." He grunts, picking you up and placing you on the counter.

The two of you were in there for a total of five minutes before someone started knocking on the dressing room door, causing you to jump like two teenagers caught by parents. "Hello? Who's in there, we need to change!" You hear Frank say from the other side of the door. The two of you quickly check your makeup to make sure it wasn't messed up, then you walked to the door to unlock it before turning to Gerard.

"You know, if stopped hiding... it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world." You said and he began to shake his head. "The age difference, (Y/N)." "It's six years, Gee. At least it's not like twenty or thirty like some other couples." You say, causing him to shrug. "I guess it's not the worst thing in the world."

You walk over and unlock the door allowing Frank to come in with the costume cart. Once he realized it was the two of you he gasped. "You?" He said pointing to Gerard, "And you?" He said pointing to you. You turn to Gerard and tilt your head. "Yeah yeah, big deal." He said walking over to wrap an arm around your waist. That night was one of your best shows yet. You two started showing affection on stage once again, you put your emotion back into your lyrics, and you even got a chance to preform the song you wrote for Gerard that started the whole relationship.

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m1lkywaymikey · 22 days ago

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HELLO

I felt randomly motivated tonight so I wrote and posted my first fanfiction on ao3🫣

My username is the same there as it is here so uhh yeah :p

#i feel awkward #uhhh #my chemical romance #mikey way #mikey way x reader #mikey way fanfiction #therell probably be other fics uploaded soonish so um keep an eye out ig #ao3 #archive of our own #m1lkywaymikey #m1lkywaymikey life update

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2therazor · 1 year ago

Text

clean sheets

w/c: 2916

revenge gerard x reader

content warnings: afab, dom reader, mommy kink, slightttt masochism, established relationship, unprotected sex, degradation

you are responsible for your own media consumption

!THIS IS A REPOST FROM BEFORE I DELETED THIS BLOG!

it had been an extremely long day. extremely long. all day your boss on your ass about this and that, every thought straying further away from stability. wasn’t being an adult supposed to be fun?

as soon as you pulled into the driveway you felt your heart sink, every emotion in the world had just hit you at once as you slowly got out of the drivers seat and closed the door. the only thing on your mind was walking into the front door and being able to see gerard. days like this he would for sure be sat on the couch watching anything ranging from a superhero movie to a horror movie. (and nowhere in between) you smiled at the thought as you slowly pushed open the front door.

“hey baby,” he called from the couch as you slowly shut the door.

you kicked off your shoes and set down your bag without saying a word. gerard knew something was off right away. you were never this quiet coming home.

“hey.” you sighed, trying to hide the frustration and irritation in your voice. which you knew, wouldn’t do much. gerard always had a way of knowing if something wasn’t right, even if you tried to be as nonchalant as possible, there was no getting past him.

“what’s wrong?” he paused the movie and turned his head to look at you in the doorway. your head was down the entire time, looking at your feet.

the question alone was enough to make you crack as you quickly burst into tears, not lifting your head from your feet to look at gerard. you knew the look of concern on his face would probably only make it worse and you hated to worry him.

“oh sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he shifted from his spot on the couch and made his way over to you, slowly wrapping his arms around your body. the scent of his cheap cologne mixed with cigarettes was all too familiar to you. never once did you not feel safe in his arms, especially when you were like this.

“it’s just- my stupid fucking boss again” you choked between sobs, burying yourself deeper into his sweater.

you felt an arm come up to rub small circles on your back as he pulled away from you, looking at you with those soft, hazel eyes. you could’ve swore you’d die right there. he spoke gently, “was she on your ass again about the drafts?”

you nodded, attempting to hide in his arm again, but he stopped you, bringing a hand up to your cheek to wipe your tears.

“I’m just so frustrated and irritated, she makes me feel like i’m always doing everything wrong. i cant stand being treated like im like five years old and incapable of doing my job.” you brought your own sleeve to wipe your nose and eyes, wondering how gerard could see you like this; a sobbing mess, and still think you were the most beautiful thing he’s laid his eyes upon.

“i know baby, i know. why don’t you come sit with me for a bit, I’ll make you some tea and you can just relax for a bit.”

you smiled up at him and nodded gently. he always knew how to comfort you even if it was something so small and ridiculous in your mind.

“okay, come on,” he put his hand in yours and gently guided you over to the couch to sit. when he tried to walk away to turn the tea kettle on, he was stopped by a hand grabbing his sweater.

“stay? just for a little? just wanna hold you, please”

you croaked, lowering your hand.

he smiled gently, black hair falling into his eyes. “okay, yeah. ok i can do that.”

you smiled as he sunk into the couch. immediately, you crawled into his lap as he wrapped his arms around you.

you both stayed like this for a while, just enjoying each other’s presence when you began to feel a bit antsy. moving around every few minutes, hoping gerard wouldn’t notice.

but the truth was, it was hard not to notice what you were doing. squirming more and more as time went on. when you realized gerard was playing dumb, you looked up at him and weakly spoke.

“gee?”

he turned his head to look at you, but he had that sick sly grin on his face. he definitely knew what you were trying to do. but still, he played along, acting all innocent, pretending he didn’t have a clue.

“what’s up?”

you bit your lip, embarrassed to even bring it up, but still you tried, “can we… try something?”

there it was, that smile that he tried (but failed miserably) to hide, gently looking down at you, bringing a hand to your face. “what did you have in mind?”

you were so flustered but were getting to a point where none of that mattered anymore, so gently you said, “like… maybe i could be dominant? push you around, make you beg… just need to let off some steam..”

gerard was failing so hard to keep his composure, all he could muster out was a mere “fuck baby”

you smiled, slowly snaking up to his face and pulling him in for a heated kiss. kissing gerard was usually gentle and slow, but now he seemed desperate, practically begging you without words to push your tongue deeper into his mouth.

he pulled away for a second, hair messy, lips slick with your saliva and his combined. “lets take this to our room?”

you smiled and gently put a hand on his chest, trailing your fingers closer to his obvious bulge.

“yeah, I’d like that”

on the way to the bedroom you two could hardly keep your hands off of each other, gerard grabbing you by the hand and dragging you down the hall only for your lips to collide again as soon as he shut the door.

“gee?” you broke the kiss to say

“yeah baby?”

there was a spark in your eyes as you lowered your head to smile and speak. “go sit on the bed.”

gerard could’ve sworn he felt his dick twitch at that comment, he simply complied. making his way over to the bed and sitting on the edge, waiting patiently.

“aw, already being so good baby… but I’m gonna need you to sit all the way on the bed, can you do that for me?”

gerard felt his face turn red, god it was so hot to see you like this, him listening to every command you spoke, not questioning a damn thing. he felt so vulnerable, but god did he love it. you were intoxicating, there was no doubt about that.

and so, he slowly crawled back further onto the bed, groaning at the tight feeling in his jeans.

“sweetheart, please… i need you.”

god he was so needy, you rolled your eyes and scoffed. “did you really think it was gonna be that easy? christ gerard, i haven’t even taken my clothes off and this is how you treat me?”

his eyes widened with anticipation, not knowing what to say next he blurted out,

“mommy, please. im sorry.” he stifled a moan.

fuck. you were done for.

you tried to keep the façade up as you slowly walked over to the bed and began to strip slowly, making sure gerard was watching your every move. and he was, practically fucking you with his eyes.

he moved a hand down to attempt to touch himself but was quickly stopped by your hand attempting to pin his wrist to the bed.

“did I say you could touch yourself?” you growled climbing into his lap, still in your panties.

he turned his face to the side, attempting to avoid eye contact. you were not gonna let him off that easy.

“look at me. did I say you could touch yourself gerard?”

he whined at the pressure of you on his lap and slowly breathed out, “no.. im just. fuck i need you baby. need to be inside of you.”

a slap rang through the room, gerard gently bringing his hand up to his cheek.

“you’re not behaving gerard. good boys wait. and what are you supposed to call me?”

his glossy eyes turned to you as he spoke, “im sorry mommy. i’ve been bad. didn’t mean to-“

you cut him off with a kiss, this time more gentle.

“color?” you asked, gently stroking his cheek.

“green. fuck green” he breathed out

you smiled as you went back to kissing down his neck, slowly grinding down on his lap with each kiss.

gerard really couldn’t be in his pants much longer, and as you pulled away from his neck, he asked quietly, “mommy? can i take my pants off? please…”

you smiled, gently moving to push your leg against the tent that had been growing in his jeans.

that was enough to make gerard whine and moan all over again, attempting to cover his mouth with one of his free hands. you quickly put a stop to this.

“no, wanna hear you baby boy, you’re so pretty. gotta hear you moan while I fuck you.”

his eyes shut tight and hips bucked against your leg as he let out another high pitched moan.

you smiled, slowly unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants down but leaving his boxers on. quickly he kicked away his jeans and they were lost to the floor for the third time this week.

pre come leaked in a small patch on his boxers, barely visible underneath the black fabric. you were practically dripping wet at the sight, not once breaking eye contact as you freed his cock from his boxers.

this earned you a small whine from gerard who had his head thrown back against the pillows with labored breathing. you could see sweat glistening on his forehead, wondering how he got worked up so quickly with you.

“gee baby?” you got his attention, tugging on the hem of one of his many band tees that had seemed to be falling apart at the seams.

“mm?” he replied, soft and quiet. god how did you get so lucky.

seconds later, you were pulling the shirt off his head throwing it to the floor along with his boxers. he was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen in the world. long black locks sticking to his forehead, leftover makeup from nights before.

“c-can you touch me?” he whined, squirming around beneath you.

“i don’t know… you’ve been so so impatient all night. dont know if you deserve it…” you started to trail off.

that really made gerard move beneath you. you could tell he was biting his tongue, holding back from talking back to you again because he knew the consequences.

noticing his movement you slowly dragged your panties off your body. “think you can do something for me baby?” you enquired as he watched you with eager eyes.

“yes, i can do anything for you mommy.” his voice barely audible as he looked up.

“can’t hear you baby…” you gripped your fingers around his throat, giving him a tight squeeze. “speak up, or i’ll just leave you here for another hour.”

his voice was strained as he tried to speak through your hand gripping down on his throat. “please. god please, i’ll do anything, i’m your good boy please.”

you chuckled at his babbling, slowly removing your hand from his throat “so needy…” you said moving your pussy closer to his face. “gonna sit on your face, and if you’re good, i’ll fuck you hard and rough like you like.” you knew the power you held over him right now and you were not going to break character. not when your boyfriend was a sweaty, whiny, mess underneath you. you swore you felt it go straight to your core at the thought,

before he could respond, you lowered yourself onto his face, thighs on both sides of his head, causing him to grip onto your thighs.

“gerard.” you said in a stern tone.

he quickly realized his mistake removing his hands from your body.

“why are you so needy today? you want mommy’s pussy so bad? you have to fucking earn it whore.” you spoke above him before lowering yourself on his face again. he started out slow, small licks from the bottom of your dripping cunt to your clit, sucking hard.

“fuck baby,” you moaned attempting to grind harder down on his face. still, he continued, licking every drop from you, making filthy noises and sucking on your clit in between licks. you were so close, every breath stifling as you sunk further down on him. his tongue plunging deeper and deeper.

gerard could tell you were close, he knew the tell-tale signs of your orgasms like the back of his hand. he sped up, eating you out with so much desperation that it was almost pathetic.

“ah- gerard fuck.”

he stopped for a moment, lightly using his hands to push you off of his face so he could speak. “please cum baby… please, wanna taste you on my tongue, just fucking use me.” before bringing you back to his mouth

you broke, a moaning, overstimulated mess above him as you reached your high, legs shaking as you slowly moved off of his face breathing heavily.

you noticed gerard hadn’t gotten any softer down there, in fact, he looked bothered. the tip of his cock so red and sensitive, pre-come still leaking from the tip. you smiled gently and caressed his cheek. “you did so fucking good for me baby… want me to fuck you? fuck you so hard you can barely think?”

he nodded quickly and sighed out of relief. he needed you so badly.

“fuck me, please. be rough, do whatever you want… just need you now.”

and that's all you needed to hear before sinking down on his cock. still, even if you had been together for almost two years, it was always difficult to adjust to his size. he moaned at the sight of you, throwing his head back and exposing his bare neck. quickly, you wasted no time marking his neck. you knew he loved it when you bit him, licked him and kissed him up and down his neck. always relishing the sweet sounds that came with it. he brought his hands up to cup your breasts, rubbing small circles around your nipples.

you quickly sat up and began to move your hips at an even pace. gerard’s moans filling the room as you bounced up and down on him, not stopping.

for a moment you looked down at him, he was so fucked out it was unbelieveable. you slowly reached your hands down to his neck to choke him again. you felt him go stiff underneath you, letting out a guttural moan from his throat. his eyes grew soft, and although you were in charge, a wave of adoration flooded you as he grabbed your hand and pushed it down harder against his throat.

you picked up the pace again, hands still squeezing his neck tight.

“fuck.. so good..feels so. good.” he babbled beneath you, you could hardly keep your composure at this, that tight knot in your stomach making itself extremely noticeable again.

you moved your hands away from his throat to bring them to his thighs, slapping him as you sped up. you knew he liked it rough, and after the day you had, he told you not to hold back. and that’s exactly what you did.

“gee, m’ so close” you whined, still not slowing down.

“me too- fuck. can we cum together? please? i’ve been good.”

you had to hold yourself from cracking up because he had been anything but good. still, with the state you were both in, you didn’t have the strength to boss him around anymore. you needed release and so did he.

“yes baby, cum for me. do it hard, come for mommy like a good boy…” and it seemed those were the magic words as gerard bucked his hips up in one thrust, and you felt the familiar twitch of him inside of you. you came shortly after, barely able to sit up anymore.

both of you breathing heavily looked at each other and smiled as you slowly climbed off of your boyfriend’s lap, careful not to make too much of a mess.

gerard quickly slid out of bed and grabbed a towel from your shared closet to wipe you down before you had to clean the sheets for the fourth time this week. once he was done he pulled you into his arms, smiling and humming as he looked down at you, almost asleep.

“doing okay?” he asked with a slight hint of concern in his voice.

“yes, more than okay actually” you giggled, bringing his arm around your shoulder. “how about you baby? are you okay?”

“oh god yes,” his cheeks turned upright as he tried to laugh it off, acting like he didn’t have some of the best sex in his life with you.

you smiled into his chest, and although he couldn’t see it, he could feel the curve of your lip pressed against him.

“nap time?” he asked, pulling the covers over the both of you.

“yes, definitely.” you curled back into him and gently dozed off, forgetting about the god-awful day you had.

#mcr x reader #gerard way x reader #gerard way smut #mcr x reader smut #mcr fanfiction #frank iero x reader #mikey way x reader #ray toro x reader #mcr smut

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oldiesstationlover11607 · 3 months ago

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heyyy um so i was wondering if u could do a version of ur jealous fic (gerard x ieros reader) but with Frank and a mcr f!drummer plss 🤞🏼

Drummer Girl - Frank Iero x Drummer!Reader

Warnings: Jealousy

Word Count: 1222

A/N: Lots of requests now that I've posted about not having requests lmao here's an mcr request for youuuuu uwu

It was one of those nights where the air felt electric, the stage lights were burning hot, and the energy of the crowd was almost overwhelming. The show had been one of our best—I could feel it in my bones as I pounded out the last beats of “Helena,” sweat dripping from my brow as Gerard held that final note with his whole chest. My hands were sore, my arms ached, but it was worth it.

As soon as the lights dimmed and the crowd erupted into deafening cheers, I stood up from my drum kit, grinning like an idiot. Frank was the first to bounce over to me, his guitar still slung over his shoulder, and pulled me into a quick, sweaty hug.

“I love you!” he shouted over the noise. His voice was raspy from screaming backup vocals, and I could barely hear him, but the wide smile on his face told me everything I needed to know.

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” I shot back, smirking.

Frank gave me a mock glare before flipping me off and jogging toward the side stage where the rest of the guys were already heading. My heart did a little flip as I watched him go. We'd been a thing for a few months now, though we’d been careful to keep it quiet. Dating your bandmate wasn’t exactly a recipe for a drama-free life, but with Frank? It felt worth it.

Backstage was a whirlwind of chaos, as usual. Crew members were running around packing up gear, and the band was basking in the post-show glow, sweaty hugs and pats on the back all around. I grabbed a bottle of water and leaned against a wall, letting myself decompress for a minute. That’s when Jason, one of the tech guys who’d been with us for a while, came over.

“Hey, killer set tonight,” he said, offering me a fist bump.

“Thanks, Jason,” I replied, bumping his fist. “You guys made us sound amazing out there.”

He grinned, his cheeks a little red. “You make it easy. Honestly, though, you’re insane on those drums. Ever thought about doing a solo project? I’d kill to mix for you.”

I laughed, brushing off the compliment, but before I could reply, I felt a presence at my side. I turned my head to find Frank standing there, his expression unreadable.

“Hey,” I said, smiling at him. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he said shortly, his eyes flicking to Jason. “We’re heading to the bus soon.”

“Cool, I’ll be there in a minute.” I turned back to Jason, who looked like he suddenly regretted coming over. “Anyway, thanks again. You’re the best.”

Jason gave a quick nod and backed off, muttering something about cables needing wrapping. I watched him go, confused, before turning back to Frank.

“What was that about?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” he muttered, but his jaw was tight, and his eyes were still fixed on where Jason had been standing.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” I pressed.

Frank finally looked at me, his eyes sharp. “Do you really think it’s cool to let that guy hit on you right in front of me?”

I blinked, taken aback. “What? He wasn’t hitting on me. He was just being nice.”

Frank let out a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, okay. Sure. ‘You’re insane on those drums,’” he said, mimicking Jason’s voice in a way that wasn’t remotely accurate. “You don’t see it?”

I crossed my arms, feeling my own irritation bubbling up. “No, I don’t see it, because it wasn’t there. And even if it was, so what? It’s not like I’m interested in him.”

“That’s not the point,” Frank snapped, his voice rising. “The point is, he shouldn’t think he can talk to you like that.”

“Like what?” I shot back. “Complimenting my drumming? God forbid someone notices I’m good at what I do.”

Frank’s face fell slightly, but his shoulders were still tense. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. “Frank, you’re being ridiculous. Jason’s just a friend. He’s never crossed a line, and he’s not going to. Can we not do this right now?”

For a moment, Frank didn’t say anything. Then he muttered, “Fine. Let’s go.”

The walk to the bus was tense and silent. I could feel the frustration radiating off Frank, but I was too annoyed to try and break the ice. By the time we got on the bus, the rest of the band was already settled in, Gerard and Ray playing some weird card game while Mikey scrolled through his phone. They all looked up when we came in, their eyes flicking between us like they could feel the tension too.

“Everything okay?” Gerard asked cautiously.

“Peachy,” I said, forcing a smile before heading to the back lounge. I needed space, and I didn’t trust myself to keep my cool around Frank right now.

I sat down on the worn-out couch and leaned my head back, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.A few minutes later, I heard the door creak open. I didn’t need to look to know it was Frank.

“Can I come in?” he asked quietly.

“Door’s open,” I replied, not opening my eyes.

He hesitated before sitting down next to me, not too close but close enough that I could feel the heat of him. For a while, neither of us said anything. Finally, he broke the silence.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was small, almost fragile. “I shouldn’t have… I didn’t mean to make a scene.”

I opened my eyes and turned my head to look at him. He was staring at his hands, his fingers twisting the rings he always wore.

“Why did you?” I asked softly. “What’s really going on, Frank?”

He sighed, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. “I don’t know. I guess I just… I get scared, you know? You’re amazing, and you’re gorgeous, and people notice. And sometimes I feel like it’s only a matter of time before you realize you could do better.”

My heart clenched at the vulnerability in his voice. I reached out and put my hand on his, stilling his nervous movements.

“Frank, that’s not going to happen,” I said firmly. “You’re the one I want. Not Jason, not anyone else. You. Okay?”

He finally looked at me, his eyes soft and filled with something that looked like hope. “Okay,” he murmured.

I leaned in and kissed him gently, letting the touch of my lips say everything I couldn’t put into words. When I pulled back, he smiled, a real one this time.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Just don’t do it again,” I said, but my tone was teasing. “Or I might have to start throwing drumsticks at you during practice.”

He laughed, the sound light and easy, and the tension that had been hanging between us finally broke.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter and bad jokes, and by the time I fell into my bunk, I felt lighter. Frank might have his moments of insecurity, but so did I. And as long as we could talk it out, I knew we’d be okay.

Because at the end of the day, he was worth it too.

REQUESTS OPENNNN

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misfits-in-motion · 28 days ago

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ok guys dont get angry at me i promise gerd fic is on the way im just actively making decisions that WILL impact my future so pls bear w me

#mcr x reader #my chemical romance #mcr #american rock band my chemical romance #frank iero #mikey way #ray toro #gerard way #frank iero x reader #ray toro x reader #gerard way x reader #mikey way x reader #my chemical mikey #my chemical ray #my chemical frank #my chemical gerard #my chemical fucking romance #mcr fanfiction

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xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx · 11 months ago

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Away From Preying Eyes - Mikey Way x Reader

Pairing: Mikey Way x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) Genre: angst to fluff/hurt comfort Word Count: 2 851 Warnings: loooots of kissing; lack of communication, use of y/n Summary: The way Mikey keeps hiding your relationship causes doubts for his feelings to rise A/N: As per popular demand… I wrote this some two years ago I think. There are a few more stories, that I should proofread and publish… someday. Also i just realised i haven't published anything since the last chapter of Killjoys... oops. sorry.

Mikey’s lips were soft on yours, kissing you sweetly. It had been literally weeks since he had last kissed you like this, all the times in between having been hurried, squeezing as much passion into a short kiss as possible.

But now you could tell he was taking his time, his hands on your waist as you were leaning against the side of the bus, his tongue swiping over your lips lazily. One of your hands was buried in his back pocket, and you almost smiled into the kiss as you remembered the look he had given you, when you had done so: surprised at your boldness, intrigued and definitely a little turned on.

It really was unfortunate that you had to sneak around like this, holding hands and sharing kisses and whispered compliments only when nobody was around who could have witnessed it. It had all started out at the beginning of tour, when after the set, which had been weirdly emotional for all of you, Mikey had pulled you aside, into the narrow space between two curtains, and kissed you for the first time. That’s how it had started, the sneaking around.

You had been more than thrilled at this development, after all you had liked Mikey for a long time, and it was exciting to have a secret the others didn’t know about. It felt like a game of hide and seek, and until about two weeks ago you had not minded the secrecy at all. But then Frank’s girlfriend Jamia had come to visit.

The two of them were definitely not the over the top, love-dovey couple, but you couldn’t help but notice the way Frank would kiss her hair absentmindedly while listening to someone else talk, or how she would hook her thumb in one of his trousers’ belt loops while they were walking or standing next to one another. It made you wonder what it would be like to have this with Mikey, and slowly doubts began raising, doubts you really didn’t want to have.

What was this to Mikey? Did he even see this as a relationship, or was it just a fun thing at the side?

Until then you had always assumed you were a couple, as valid as Frank and Jamia, even if nobody knew. But maybe that was the problem. Nobody knew. Even if Mikey wanted to be with you, properly, more than just a quick make-out session in the long, empty corridors of an arena, or deserted hotel hallways, why were you telling nobody? Was he… was he ashamed of you? You hated when these thoughts started pressing in, especially when it happened in moments like right now, when his kisses were so sweet and caring, that they left no doubt that this was so much more to him than just fun.

You tried shooing the thoughts away, but before you had truly succeeded, Mikey had pulled away.

“Is something wrong,” he asked, his eyes carefully scanning your face, searching for the smallest hint of discomfort.

“Nothing,” you smiled, hoping it was convincing enough. “Everything’s good.”

“Hey, something’s off, I can tell,” Mikey insisted, and gently nudged his nose against your cheek, an affectionate gesture you had quickly learnt to love. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

You sighed. At the moment you really would have preferred continuing to kiss him than to talk about the stupid thoughts that had swarmed your mind. And they were stupid, you knew that. Every time Mikey touched you, or looked at you when you were alone, you knew that he cared deeply for you.

Maybe it was just the fear of giving your heart away and being left again. It had happened before.

Mikey cared for you, yes, but how could you know he cared for your as much as you cared for him? Well, you didn’t even expect him to love you the way you loved him. You just couldn’t help but wonder if this was something he wanted to pursue in the long run. And no matter how little you wanted to hear him tell you that it was just something that would last for the duration of this tour, he still deserved to hear your thought on the matter. So, you sighed again, and tilted your head, making space for Mikey as he trailed small kisses along your jaw towards your neck.

“It’s just- I can’t help but wonder-”

You were interrupted by the door to the bus jumping open, no six feet away from you.

Mikey’s reaction was immediate. Quicker than you were able to register, he had clamped one of his hands over your mouth, and – being taller than you – brought himself between the door and you, so you wouldn’t be spotted as easily. Even though the door blocked the view to whoever had opened it.

Those were the moments that really made you feel weird. The moments when Mikey was so quick to cover any and all interaction with you, never letting the others even get the faintest clue as to what was going on between the two of you. And for some reason, this time it stung more than before. If you only knew why he did that, why he was so keen on keeping your relationship, if it even was one to him, secret, then you absolutely wouldn’t have minded it but this way…

“(Y/N), Mikey!”

It was Frank, who had opened the door of the bus, but seemed to make no attempt at stepping outside. “(Y/N), Mikey! We’re gonna watch Dawn of the Dead!”

He waited a moment before he spoke something else, more muffled, and probably directed at the others inside the bus, before the door got pulled closed again.

“Let’s talk another time, alright,” Mikey suggested, still tense, but slightly more relaxed now, and you nodded. “You’ll go first?”

Again you nodded, quickly tucking at your shirt to make sure everything was in order, before you slipped past Mikey and headed towards the door of the bus. It had been stupid to think that Mikey and you might actually have a little time this once. You knew the others were waiting for you to come back from the drug store and for Mikey from saying hi to another band who had parked their bus not too far away on the festival grounds.

But maybe Frank had sort of saved you there. Otherwise, you would’ve had to tell Mikey how you felt about him, and especially after his reaction to almost having been found out just now, that felt even worse than confessing to your best friend.

With a last glance at Mikey, you pulled open the bus door, and climbed inside. Ray and Frank had already settled on the sofa, while Gerard was fumbling around with the TV.

“There you are,” Ray noticed and patted the empty seat next to him. “We already wondered what took you so long.”

“Couldn’t find the damn store,” you whined, dropping down next to Ray.

“Did you at least get what you were looking for,” Frank asked, before telling Gerard to try another button.

“Nope, they didn’t have my brand,” you lied. Of course the truth was that you had never looked for a drug store in the first place, and instead spent the past thirty minutes kissing Mikey. But now you could reuse the drug store excuse for the next time.

“Ugh, that sucks,” Frank rolled his eyes. “Oh, and have you seen Mikey? He’s been MIA since this morning.”

“No clue,” you shrugged, giving your best to sound indifferent. As if you didn’t know he was waiting outside just a little longer before coming in.

Indeed, just as Gerard had found the correct button on the old TV, Mikey opened the door, and with an apologizing hand gesture settled down between his brother and Frank.

While the others were focusing on the movie, you did your best not to look over at Mikey. You knew he had sensed something was up and would not stop asking about it before you told him the truth, and you were not sure you liked that prospect.

~*~

For two days you managed to escape Mikey. Two days in which you always managed to not get out of a situation with others, even though you knew he was waiting for you. You were evading him. Mikey knew that as well as you did. You knew eventually you’d have to talk to him, eventually you would have to ask him what this thing between you meant to him. Two days. And then your luck ran out in a dimly lit hotel corridor.

Mikey had waited in the open door to his room until you tried passing it on the way to yours, when he grabbed your wrist, and dragged you down the corridor and around the next corner. No rooms were here, only the small door to a broom closet. Nobody would look for you back here. And a huge potted plant gave you additional privacy.

You had let out a surprised squeal at him dragging you along all of a sudden, but you got quickly shut up by Mikey’s lips on yours. He was kissing you feverishly, as if it were the last time he ever would get to do it. You couldn’t blame him, after all, god knew what he had to think after you had evaded him for two days, not even allowing him his by now traditional post-show-kiss.

His hands were cradling your face, while he used the length of his body to keep you trapped against the wall, his lips desperately chasing yours. You kissed him back, suddenly not sure anymore how you had managed to deprive yourself of him for the past days.

Only when he was out of breath, did he pull away, leaning his forehead to yours with closed eyes.

“Talk to me,” he begged, his hands falling from your face to your waist, gently holding you there. Not forcefully, never forcefully. Rather the kind of touch that made it clear that he wanted to feel you, wanted you to stay, but would easily allow you to slip away, should you wish to do so. “What happened? What did I do?”

You swallowed thickly, opening your eyes to look at Mikey. His face was so close that you couldn’t focus on him properly, but you could make out his long dark lashes against his smooth skin, the slight stubble that grew on his cheeks. He looked troubled, even with eyes closed and as out of focus as he was right now, you could tell he looked troubled and worried.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, making him shake his head slightly.

“No, no. Don’t apologise,” Mikey disagreed. “You pulled away and there has to be a good reason for that. And I know it has to do with me, so don’t apologise, alright? I just- I want to fix it… if you’ll let me. I want to make things okay again. With us.”

“Is that really what you want,” you asked, finally pulling back a little.

Mikey’s eyes opened, and confused he looked at you.

“What?”

“Do you really want us?”

You could see the fraction of an inch that his eyes widened, the shock, the panic setting in, and almost instantly you felt bad for it. But this exact question had been plaguing you for too long now, so you had to ask it eventually.

“Yes, yes of course,” Mikey bubbled out. “Of course I want us. What- why would you think I didn’t?”

Ashamed you looked away. How the hell should you put all those thoughts and feelings into words, this fear of rejection, of just being a side-gig, the fear that he might be ashamed for you. How could you possibly put it into words without making it sound like you thought he was the bad guy in all of this?

A warm hand came up to your chin, and Mikey tilted your head up to look at him again.

“Why would you think I don’t love you?”

His words were like a knife through the heart, and you could feel tears rising.

“I just- you were so insistent on keeping everything a secret, it felt like-”

The moment the words had left your lips, realization hit Mikey and he groaned, and squeezed his eyes together, before he dropped his head backwards into his neck.

“Shit,” he swore quietly, “I knew I should’ve talked to you about it.” He took a deep breath and looked back at you; his brown eyes full of sorrow as they took you in. “It has absolutely nothing to do with you, it’s just- For as long as I can remember I was always Gerard’s little brother. Or My Chem’s bassist. Or Pete’s friend. And I love being these things. I love my brother, and I love the band and I love Pete, even though all three can really get on my nerves sometimes.

“But to other people I’m never more. I’m never Mikey. I’ve had girls want to date me just because then they’d get closer to my brother. As if he’d ever even think about doing something with a girl I was interested in at some point. Or interviewers ask me about everyone in the band but me. And whenever someone shows interest in me, it’s either because of Gee or because of the band.

“But with you I can just be myself, you know? I can just be Mikey. And- fuck, at first, I wasn’t sure if maybe I’m wrong this time too, that you’re just letting me kiss you because we’re in the same band, and maybe this doesn’t actually mean anything to you. But then we were in that studio, and you kissed my hand and I just knew that it you were actually looking at me-”

You remembered that interaction. A radio station had invited the band to record a song with them, and while everyone else had been busy setting up, you had snuck over to Mikey. It had been quick, the way you had taken his hand and pressed your lips to his knuckles.

You had been scared he’d be mad at you, since anybody could have seen, but the urge to show him some sort of appreciation had been overwhelming, and instead of getting mad, his cheeks had been dusted over a slight pink, so that a minute later Ray had asked if Mikey was feeling alright, or if he might be getting a fever.

“I’ve always been looking at you,” you interrupted Mikey quickly, making him smile sadly.

“I knew that then. I knew that, and it was, is, the most precious thing in my life. And I didn’t want to share it. We, the band, we spend so much time on such narrow space. We know literally everything about each other. But this – that you were looking at me for me – this was my secret, and I wanted to protect it so badly from preying eyes… And I completely forgot that to you it had to seem like I didn’t care enough or-”

Mikey broke off, unable to phrase the words both of you were thinking.

“It’s okay-”

“No, it’s not. Because I made you feel like you weren’t desired, and trust me, that’s as far away from the truth as it gets.”

“I made you feel awful too, not telling you what I was thinking and avoiding you for two days.”

“At least now I know why. So, if you want to tell the others, then I’m fine with that. I don’t feel quite ready for the rest of the world to know, but if that’s what you want, I’ll learn to-”

“It’s not,” you interrupted him. “It’s not what I want. We don’t even have to tell the others, not now at least. I wanted to know why we were keeping it a secret, and now I do. Hell, I can even understand how you feel, parts of it at least. And it’s okay for me to do it at your pace, as long as you promise it won’t last just for this tour.”

“I never meant for it to just last for this tour,” Mikey shook his head in disbelief. “Not with you. I love you too much for that.”

That was the second time now that he had said he loved you. Trying to keep your smile in check, you bit your lip before answering.

“I love you too, Mikey.”

He smiled then, brighter than you had ever seen him smile before, and leant in again, kissing you once more, slower, calmer this time, but with unguarded love, and still smiling, both of you finally certain that your feelings for one another were reciprocated.

A few meters away, Frank silently closed the door to his hotel room, giving a thumbs up to his band mates, letting them know Mikey and you had made up. They’d continue playing the oblivious fools for as long as Mikey and you needed them to.

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can't really tag you fore some reason, sorry if this didn't work: @butterflycore @cmtryghoul

you got tagged bc you made the mistake of interacting with the announcement:

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xdivyxd · 2 years ago

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Hi fellow Tumblr users I'm Ivy, i go by they/she <3

I write gn!reader, requests are always open :)

My chemical romance, Taylor Swift, the Marauders, mcu (phases 1-3), Gilmore girls, dead poets society, grey's anatomy and more :)

Feel free to request other people and if i know then I'll try my best xD

#x reader #musicians #movies #gerard way x reader #frank iero x reader #ray toro x reader #mikey way x reader #bucky barns x y/n #x y/n #fluff #angst #fanfiction #jess mariano x y/n #jess mariano x reader #bucky barns imagine #avengers x reader #grey's anatomy #grey's anatomy x reader

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lucajayms · 5 months ago

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once again, i apologize for the rant

helloo, if youre still taking requests, fem reader who is the drummer (fuck b*b) who has been dating gerard since bullets (i love bullets gerard so much) and theyre doing the im not ok video and she is dressed as one of the cheerleaders and has the same uniform as the guys but with skirt. and gerard keeps making jokes about how unfair is that she is only one wearing a skirt and being cheerleader, everyone laughs and he acts like its no big deal but reader knows he feels truly a little bit sad because of it but she doesn't say anything because she want him to be the one to talk about it first. then like 18 years pass 😭 and reader and gerard are at a thrift store and gee sees THE cheerleader outfit and is really interested by it but tries to play it cool but reader convinces them to buy it and get it modified to wear on stage. then gerard puts it on for the first time and reader is just happy that he is so happy bc they have been wanting to be a cheerleader for almost 20 years 😭

take your time, feel free to ignore this, cubicles was soooo good thanks for reading my batshit crazy rants <3

You Should Have Raised A Baby Girl...

gerard way x reader she/her used use of y/n

masterlist

warnings: mentions of drug use, drug tests, consensual ass grabbing

funfact Gee wore the cheerleader dress on my bday 🤭 (8/24/22)

I cross my arms, the sting of doubt twisting inside me, and take a deep breath. "Are you fucking high?" I spit, each word coated in anger and disappointment. I know it hurts to ask, especially now, when he’s been clawing his way through every withdrawal, trying his hardest to get clean. But his hands are shaking, and his eyes, hidden beneath that curtain of greasy hair, seem lost and unfocused.

"What?" His voice wavers, but he manages to snap back, "No! I'm not!" He pushes his hair out of his face, and his eyes—those eyes I used to know so well—look up, wide and offended.

I narrow my gaze, searching his expression, his stance, anything that might give me the truth. His defenses are up, but that doesn't reassure me. "I don't care. I’m drug testing you."

He scoffs and flails his arms in exasperation. "Fine! Go ahead. I have nothing to hide." There’s defiance in his tone, but the fear flickers beneath it, plain as day.

I grab a test kit from my bag, ignoring the questions in his eyes. He looks at me, searching for privacy. I shake my head, a hollow ache stirring inside me as my thoughts drift back to Helena—how young she was, just seventeen, when her own addiction took root. They always find a way to make it negative, but sometimes that reassurance just isn’t enough. Bracing myself, I mutter, "What? It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before. I know how addicts work, Gerard. I've seen people fake a drug test."

He groans but doesn’t argue, reluctantly turning to the test. As he fills the cup, I give him enough space for dignity but keep my gaze steady, just long enough to confirm he's not faking. When he finishes, we settle into a tense silence, the minutes dragging painfully as we wait for the results. I watch him out of the corner of my eye, gnawing on my lip. My stomach twists, dreading that I might be right—and hoping, desperately, that I’m wrong.

The test finally beeps, and I look down, half-expecting the worst. But it’s clear: negative. For everything.

"See?" he snaps, grabbing the result before storming out of the bathroom. "Fucking told you."

I follow him out, the frustration spilling over. "Well, what did you expect, Gerard? Huh?"

He whirls around, his jaw clenched, eyes blazing. "I expected you to believe me, (Y/N)! Just once, without pulling out some test like I'm some… some criminal!"

His words hit me, and a wave of guilt washes over me, but I steady myself, my voice softer. "I just… I had to be sure, Gerard. You don’t get it. Watching you… wondering if you’re slipping again… it kills me."

He stops, his shoulders slumping, and suddenly he looks tired, worn down to his bones. "You think I don’t know that? Every damn day, I’m fighting myself. I’m fighting for you, for Mikey, for everyone. I’m trying, (Y/N). I’m really trying."

I reach out, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know you are. And I’m proud of you. More than you’ll ever know." My voice softens further, a crack showing. "But I can’t be too careful, Gerard. I can't watch you spiral again. Not after… not after Helena."

At her name, his face shifts, and the anger in his eyes softens. He knows what Helena’s been through, what addiction stole from her, from all of us.

He looks away, sighing, and rubs a hand over his face. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “For making you doubt me. But… I’m not going anywhere, (Y/N). Not this time. I swear.”

I nod, swallowing back tears. "I believe you," I say, and it’s the truth. “And I’m with you. Every step.”

We stand there in silence, something heavy and real hanging between us. I take his hand and give it a squeeze, feeling his fingers grip mine back, and for a moment, the fear eases—just enough to remember that maybe, this time, we’ll both make it through.

And he kept his word for the next few days. The jitters continued but it was fine because he was quitting cold turkey. That's a very difficult thing to do and I have no idea how he's gone this far.. I almost feel bad with every accusation that comes out of my mouth. I want to be wrong, and so far each time I have been.

The shoot for I'm Not Okay (I Promise) was set for tomorrow—our first real music video, with an actual budget. Sure, we had those two videos from the last record, but those were put together on scraps and prayers. This time, though? Reprise was footing the bill. They let us do whatever we wanted with it, so we went for prep school misfits, us being the outcasts, too clueless to catch the hints but somehow breaking through, brainwashing the place with our song. It was the coolest idea we’d had yet.

And it wasn’t just the video. Next week, we were kicking off the Taste of Chaos tour, our first tour for Revenge. The whole thing was surreal. I could see it in Gerard, the way he fidgeted with his sleeves, or spaced out a little too long whenever he thought no one was looking. He’d never done a show sober before, not a real one, and that fear was clawing at him. We all knew it. But no one dared to say it.

That night, we piled into a late-night diner, the five of us crammed into a booth, splitting greasy fries and cheap coffee. Gerard was uncharacteristically quiet, his fingers tapping anxiously against his mug. I nudged him gently, trying to pull him out of his head.

"You ready for tomorrow?" I asked, forcing a smile.

He chuckled softly, but his eyes were distant. I knew something was bothering him, he just didn't want to say it. “Yeah, I mean… it’s exciting. Just… a lot, you know? First real video. Then the tour…”

Mikey shot him a reassuring look from across the table. “You got this, Gee. We all do. This is what we wanted, right?”

Gerard nodded, taking a shaky sip of his coffee. "Yeah. I know. Just… new territory."

I leaned closer, giving him a nudge with my shoulder. “We’re right here. You’re not doing this alone. Just think about the video, okay? Tomorrow, we’re gonna be a bunch of misfit weirdos, and I think we’ve all had enough practice for that.”

That got a real laugh out of him, and I caught the hint of relief in his eyes. Maybe he was still scared, but he was here. He was trying.

That night in the hotel room, I sat in front of the mirror, straightener in hand, trying to make tomorrow’s prep a little easier. I’d get half my hair done tonight so the crew wouldn’t have to wrestle with it in the morning. But as I worked on one of the bottom layers, my gaze kept drifting back to Gerard. He was lying on the bed in his matching pajamas—Batman this time—eyes glued to the TV. I could tell something was eating at him. There was this distant look in his eyes, like he was somewhere far away.

“What’s the matter, baby?” I asked, running the straightener over a strand, watching him through the mirror. He shrugged, not looking away from whatever was flickering on the screen. “Come on, I know there’s something. Talk to me, Gee.”

He shifted a little, lips parting like he was about to say something. “Do you… do you know if…” He trailed off, shaking his head like he’d thought better of it.

I set the straightener down, turning to face him fully. “Do I know if what, babe?”

He hesitated, biting his lip. Finally, he sighed. “Do you know what your costume’s gonna be like tomorrow?”

My brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Like… are you gonna be in a skirt or are you matching us?” His voice was soft, hesitant, like he didn’t want to give away the reason he was asking.

I moved to the edge of the bed, leaning over to rub his shin through the silly Batman pajama pants. “I’m gonna be wearing a skirt, yeah. They wanted me to stand out a little more.”

He nodded, looking down, and there was that far-off look again. I could tell he was wrestling with something. “Why do you ask?”

He squirmed a bit, his fingers fidgeting with the blanket, before finally looking at me with those big, uncertain eyes. “I… I’ve always wanted to wear a skirt, you know? Just… not in a joke way. I don’t know, I just… I’ve thought about it a lot, but I’ve always been too scared to actually… you know, do it.”

The confession hung between us, delicate and vulnerable. He looked at me, waiting, as if expecting me to laugh or brush it off. But I didn’t. I just moved closer, so our knees touched, and I took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Gee,” I murmured, “you’d look amazing in a skirt. Seriously.”

He let out a shaky breath, almost like a laugh. “I just… I don’t want anyone to think I’m… I don’t know. I don’t want people to make fun of me or think it’s, like, a stunt. I just… sometimes, I feel like I’d be more… me.”

I felt my heart squeeze. “I get that. And you know what? Fuck anyone who doesn’t get it. If it’s something you want to do, then do it. I’ll be right there with you.”

He smiled, shy but grateful, and his hand tightened around mine. “You… you really think it’d be okay?”

“More than okay,” I replied, leaning in to nudge him with my shoulder. “If you want to, we can even get you a skirt for the shoot. Who says you have to look like everyone else?”

He let out a soft laugh, glancing down. “Maybe… maybe one day.”

I smiled, knowing he’d take that step when he was ready, and I’d be right there, cheering him on every step of the way.

The day of the shoot, Gerard was unusually handsy—not that I minded, of course. But he was everywhere, catching me in quiet corners, his hands sneaking under the hem of my skirt, fingers tracing my hips, or pulling me close when he thought no one was looking. He’d wrap his arms around my waist from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder, a soft hum of contentment escaping him.

Something had changed overnight. The confession he’d made, that weight he’d carried, seemed lighter now. His energy felt freer, brighter, almost playful. This was the side of Gerard that only surfaced when he was truly at ease—no stage persona, no walls. Just him, vulnerable and electric, taking on the world with this new spark.

At one point, we were waiting between scenes, tucked away in the back hallway of the school they’d rented out for the video. I leaned against a row of lockers, tapping my fingers against the cool metal. He leaned into me, one hand braced on the locker behind me, his other resting on my hip, pulling me close. He gave me a mischievous grin, his eyes alight with something that hadn’t been there for a long time.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low, just for me, “I can’t believe I waited so long to tell you that. Last night… I just… it felt like I could breathe again.”

I smiled, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “You deserve to feel that way, Gee. No matter what anyone else thinks. I’m glad you told me.”

He pressed his forehead to mine, his hand tightening on my hip. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, (Y/N),” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Good thing you don’t have to find out,” I murmured back, brushing my lips against his.

Just then, we heard someone clear their throat. Frank was grinning at us from down the hall, arms crossed. “Lovebirds, we’re on in five. Hate to break up this Notebook moment.”

Gerard rolled his eyes, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he reluctantly stepped back, adjusting his tie. But he didn’t let go of my hand, holding it tight as we walked to the set together, like he needed that anchor.

The shoot went on, the hours blurring by in a whirlwind of takes and costume adjustments. Gerard, with his newfound confidence, gave it everything, his voice raw and defiant, his eyes holding that steady fire. When he wasn’t on camera, he’d throw glances my way, little secret smiles just for me, like we were sharing a world no one else could touch.

2022

Nashville was as sticky and humid as ever, clinging to us like a second skin. Gerard and I strolled hand-in-hand down the bustling streets, taking advantage of a rare day off to just be together. He’d wanted to go out, despite the heat, saying something about “soaking in the vibes” of the city. Since Taste of Chaos—his first tour clean—he’d grown into himself in ways I could never have anticipated but always admired.

The experiments with theatrics and costume had only gotten bolder: The Black Parade uniforms, the neon punk style of Danger Days, and each tour adding something new, a more vivid version of who he was. As his confidence grew, so did his willingness to play with his identity, his style, and especially his look. He’d always talk to me first, hesitantly at first, but now with a quiet confidence. We’d have long talks about gender, how he felt, and where he fit. He told me he felt somewhere in between, not fully masculine, not quite feminine, and finally, he’d started exploring what that meant.

His pronouns had become he/they—a subtle but important shift that he let me in on first. He’d whispered it to me one night, his face half-hidden by the pillow, unsure of how it’d sound out loud. I remember how his shoulders relaxed when I just squeezed his hand and said, “Then that’s who you are. And that’s who I love.”

Today, I could see how far he’d come. He wore a pair of black jeans, a loose-fitting yellow plaid shirt with his favorite green jacket. His hair was in that perfect, unkempt mess that suited him so well, falling into his face in a way that made me want to brush it back for him. He caught me looking and grinned, that mischievous spark in his eye.

“You’re staring,” he teased, voice low, hand squeezing mine.

“Can’t help it,” I replied, leaning closer. “My husband’s hot. And he knows it.”

He blushed, looking away with a smile that was all shyness and pride. “Lucky me. Got a hot wife who puts up with all my crazy ideas.”

“Oh, like the Black Parade costumes?” I teased, nudging him. “Or was it the neon hair phase?”

He laughed, that warm, unguarded laugh that I loved. “Hey, those were good ideas!”

I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close. “Every single one,” I murmured, brushing a kiss to his cheek. “You know, I love that you’re trying all this stuff out. The costumes, the makeup, everything… it’s all you, Gee.”

He sighed, leaning into me, his face softening. “I just… I spent so long thinking I had to be a certain way. But when I’m like this—when I’m just… me—it’s like, finally, I can breathe.”

“And I love you for it,” I whispered. “Every part of you.”

He looked at me, eyes bright. “Thanks for… always being okay with me. You don’t know how much it means.”

I kissed him, my hands on his face, brushing my thumb over the liner just a little. “It means the world to me to see you happy. I fell in love with the real you, Gee. And you're perfect just the way you are."

Gerard beamed as we wandered the streets of Nashville, our fingers intertwined, stopping to browse comic book stores, jewelry shops, and cozy little cafes that seemed to breathe with southern charm. We’d talk about the places we passed, imagining lives where we’d just hop from one coffee shop to another, taking days off together like this every week.

Then we stumbled upon the cutest thrift store, tucked away on a side street, with a neon sign that read Second Chances buzzing in the window.

“Ooh, Gee, maybe they’ll have one of the records!” I said, tugging him toward the door before he could even protest.

He laughed, letting me pull him in. “You really think someone just dropped an original Three Cheers here? In Nashville?”

“You never know!” I shot back with a grin. We’d been on a hunt lately to collect originals of our own records in any format—CDs, cassettes, vinyl. Thrift stores like these were sometimes goldmines for rare music finds, so every visit held a little thrill.

After scouring the music section and turning up empty-handed, we wandered over to the clothing racks, half just for the fun of it, flipping through sequined tops, vintage jeans, and concert tees that probably had a whole lifetime of memories. That’s when Gerard froze, his eyes locking onto something that made him tilt his head curiously.

It was a green cheerleading dress, faded but charming, with a big white W stitched onto the chest. The dress looked around his size—maybe a little snug, but close enough. He reached out to brush his fingers over the fabric, his eyes thoughtful.

I could practically see the gears turning in his head. “You want to try it on, don’t you?” I asked, a knowing smile tugging at my lips.

He looked at me, almost sheepishly, but nodded. “Yeah. You think they’d mind?”

“Oh, definitely not. They’ll love it.” I grabbed his hand and dragged him to the fitting rooms, slipping the dress over to him before closing the door. “Go on. Let’s see it.”

A few moments later, he opened the door, stepping out with a nervous little smile. The dress fit a bit awkwardly, the hem resting higher than it was probably meant to, and the waist a little too tight—but somehow, it still suited him perfectly. His hair spilled over his shoulders, framing his face, and the way he looked at himself in the mirror had me grinning ear to ear.

“Well?” he asked, tugging at the skirt to straighten it. “Does it look too weird?”

I stepped up behind him, resting my chin on his shoulder and looking at him in the mirror. “Not at all,” I murmured. “I mean, sure, it’s a little tight here and there. But I can make it fit. Just give me a few minutes with my sewing kit, and it’ll be perfect by tomorrow night.”

He turned, his eyes lighting up with a mix of excitement and relief. “Really? You think I could… wear it on stage?”

“Absolutely,” I said, wrapping my arms around his waist. “You’ve wanted to try something new, right? This is your chance. And you’ll look amazing up there, Gee.”

His smile grew, that sparkle in his eye I’d come to love. “You really think I can pull this off?”

I leaned in, brushing a kiss against his cheek. “You already do.”

We left the thrift store with the green dress carefully folded in a bag, along with a few vintage band tees Gerard had picked out on impulse. The whole walk back to the hotel, he kept glancing over at me, his excitement bubbling just below the surface. I knew he was nervous about tomorrow, about showing up on stage in something that finally felt like him, but he couldn’t hide the spark in his eyes.

As soon as we got back, I laid the dress out on the bed and pulled out my sewing kit, ready to get to work. Gerard sat beside me, practically vibrating with excitement, as I took measurements, talking through each adjustment I’d make. Every now and then, he’d crack a joke or mumble some self-deprecating comment about his body that I’d instantly counter, reminding him how perfect he was.

When I had the dress pinned and knew what I needed to do, he gave my shoulder a squeeze and ducked into the bathroom to shave his legs. I laughed when he popped his head out, cheeks flushed, talking about how he hadn’t done this since he was a teenager, experimenting with styles and pushing every boundary he could.

“I’m committed,” he said, grinning as he disappeared back into the bathroom.

As I sat on the bed, working the fabric to fit his frame, I felt an overwhelming swell of love. This was so much more than a costume. I knew he was taking a huge leap here, stepping into an identity he’d been tiptoeing around for years. The stitching felt sacred, like I was helping create something that would show the world the Gerard only I got to see: soft, unapologetic, playful, and so beautifully himself.

He left to find knee-high socks and sneakers, and by the time he returned, I had finished the dress, smoothing it out over the bed. He came in holding up a pair of bright white socks and some simple canvas sneakers, his eyes shining as he looked from the dress to me.

“You’re… already done?” he asked, a mix of awe and nerves in his voice.

“All done and ready for you,” I said, patting the bed. “Now go try it on. Let’s see the star of the show.”

He hesitated just a moment, then took the dress with an appreciative nod and disappeared into the bathroom. My heart pounded as I waited, imagining how he’d look and hoping it would feel as perfect for him as it did for me.

When he finally stepped out, I was floored. The green fabric hugged him in all the right places, and the socks added that playful touch he loved. But it was his face that struck me the most—the way he looked at himself, tentatively touching the W on his chest, then glancing up at me, almost shyly.

“Well?” he asked, giving a small, nervous laugh as he did a quick turn, tugging at the skirt. “I don’t know if it’s… too much?”

I couldn’t stop smiling, my heart so full I thought it might burst. “Gee, you look… you look absolutely stunning." I hold my hands out, gesturing for him to come over to me. "My pretty husband."

He laughed, his voice catching just slightly. “You really think so? I’m not… I mean, I’m no model or anything.”

Once he got over to me, I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close. “You don’t have to be. You’re you, baby. That’s all anyone needs to see, and that’s what they’re gonna see. This is everything I’ve ever dreamed for you—to just be yourself. This is all you.”

He wrapped his arms around me, holding on tight. His voice was soft, almost a whisper. “You make it sound so easy. I never thought I’d have the courage to do this… but here I am, with you, feeling like maybe I could take on the world.”

I pressed a kiss to his forehead, lingering there as I took in every part of this moment. “You don’t need me to make you brave,” I whispered against his skin. “You’ve had it in you all along. I’m just lucky to be here, watching you become everything you’re meant to be.”

His eyes were glassy, and he leaned his forehead against mine, his voice choked with emotion. “I'm so fucking grateful for you. You're someone who makes me feel like I don’t have to hide anymore.”

All I did was smile at him. Words cannot describe how proud I am of him.

That night, he had the best stage presence in the 21 years of his career, and I mean that. I definitely didn't. I was so distracted, but I managed to keep on beat. I could have done better behind the kit, but how can I when I have my beautiful husband directly in front of me. Especially when someone gave him that stupid flame thrower. Where did he get a fucking flame thrower?

The rest of the tour he had a few more feminine outfits: the teacher, the flight attendant he called it, the tourist, the cat, and a few other. And he pulled off every single one.

All I could do was smile at him. There aren’t words for how proud I felt, how proud I still feel.

That night, Gerard had the best stage presence I’d ever seen in his 21 years of performing—and I mean that. It was magnetic. Every move, every word, he owned the stage. Me? I was a mess. My focus kept drifting, too distracted by the way he lit up in front of the crowd. I kept the beat, but honestly? I could’ve done better. How could I not be distracted when my beautiful husband was standing there, owning his truth, directly in front of me?

And then there was that goddamn flamethrower. Seriously, where the hell did he get a flamethrower? I could barely keep my eyes off him, but I swear, that thing almost distracted me more than he did.

The rest of the tour was a parade of outfits, each one more Gerard than the last. The teacher look, the “flight attendant,” as he called it, the tourist, the cat—oh god, the cat—and a few others that I never even saw coming. He wore every single one with such confidence, with a kind of ease that made it clear he was finally, fully, himself. Every time he stepped on stage in those outfits, he wasn’t just performing; he was living—and the crowd felt it, too.

I just couldn’t get enough of it. Every single night, he blew me away.

4685 words

thank you for reading, my loves!

#my chemical romance #mcr #gerard way #frank iero #fanfiction #gerard way x reader #mikey way #mychemicalromance #my chem #ray toro

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