#mikey way x reader fanfiction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

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 — ☾

118 notes · View notes

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

187 notes · View notes

lucajayms · 6 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

57 notes · View notes

deaddovediner · 7 days ago

Text

Shower Haze (!older brother Mikey Way x !younger sister reader)

warnings/triggers: Incest, Fingering, Shower scenes, Overstimulation, Dirty talk (kind of), Use of Y/N, Praising, Just overall filth and I mean it :3

word count: 2016

Dead Dove Do Not Eat!

School was exhausting, and when you came home all you were thinking about was taking a shower and then taking a nap; but of course your older brother, Mikey, had to be having a shower at that exact moment.

"Mikey! Hurry your ass up! I want to shower too-" You shouted and knocked against the bathroom door, the sound of water flowing from the shower the only sound inside.

"If you want to take a shower this much, then come in! The door is not locked, we can shower together, I won't mind it." Mikey called back from the bathroom.

Would it be weird if you took a shower with your older brother? You haven't seen him naked since the two of you were small. After some thinking and hesitation you went back to your room to grab your towel and change of clothes; fuck it. Were you really about to shower with him?

You went back to the bathroom, the water still going, indicating Mikey wasn't even near being done. With a big breath you slowly opened the door, with your eyes closed. Even though you were about to shower with him, that doesn't mean you want to be blinded by your brother's dick.

"You know, you can open your eyes, or are you going to shower with your eyes closed? You've seen me naked before- I don't know why you're making this weirder then it already is." He commented, and you could hear the smirk in his voice, you just knew he was grinning like hell.

"Okay, fine!" You opened your eyes to the steamy bathroom you are so familiar with. He was in the shower. Thankfully the steam covered most of the glass, and you didn't see his package, only his soft curves and that slutty waist you were always so jealous of.

You put your towel next to his and set the clothes down on one of the shelves in there. He didn't pay you much attention as you stripped your clothes and threw them in the laundry basket; now came the awkward part.

As he was soaping up his body, you slid open the glass door and stepped in the shower. Thankfully it was big enough for the two of you. At first you just stared at the wall, trying to shower in peace beside him; but Mikey grabbed the shower head turned the water on fully cold and poured water all over you.

You were left speechless, jaw left open and frozen in place; the cold made your skin have goosebumps and your nipples hardened. At last, you tried to stop the laughing Mikey by throwing hands at the shower head but it was hard to, when ice cold water was flowing against you everywhere.

"MIKEY! Stooopp! Please-" You were still trying to stop him, whining, and finally after some other moments of torture he put the shower head back into it's holder. You heaved a sigh and it was almost out of relief, but then you remembered the fact that you're showering with him... naked.

"Do you always shower like it's the fucking south pole next street? Or did you just wanted to give me a cold welcome instead of a warm one?" You confront him and he turns to you fully and gives you one of his shit eating grins. You're keeping heavy eye-contact with him, it's almost like he's challenging you, but why does it feel like that? Why would he challenge you? Daring you to look down, examine him.

"Why not both? But yeah, I start with warm water then I switch to cold. You should've seen your face!" He chuckles and you're contemplating to give him a small smack, but you won't.

"That's weird y'know? Might be even more weirder then us showering together- I mean, who the fuck showers with their sibling at this age? Hm, Mikey?" And at that exact moment, his eyes dared drop lower then your gaze. It was a weird feeling, seeing him look you up and down, the look in his eyes different. He's not thinking of you that way right? Right?

Your gaze almost drops too, just to make sure he's not thinking of you like that, but you hold yourself back. Instead, you reach behind him for the shower head. Turning the water hotter and pushing some shampoo on your hair to wash it. You almost forgot Mikey was in the shower with you, when his hand stops yours at washing your hair, and he takes over when you let him. He softly massages your scalp along with washing your hair and it felt heavenly.

It was almost a fully innocent and sweet moment, but when he was done and he rinsed your hair out with the water he hugged you from behind, and that wouldn't be too bad- except. He was hard. His erection trapped between the two of you just like how you were trapped in the hug.

Not that you dared move, shock and disgust freezing you in place, paired with something else that you didn't even wanted to admit to yourself. Something dark that's always been locked up in your mind, now coming to surface.

"Mikey..." It was only a small whisper, a warning, but even you didn't know what for.

"Please, you've grown so much, you look so beautiful now, your body fully grown. You're my sweet little sister, so innocent and pure. You wouldn't say no to your brother, would you?" His voice rings in your ears as he holds you tighter, and you notice the way he's softly moving against your back, grinding against you; and his breathing gets shaky.

You shake your head no viciously, but you're still not fighting against his hold on you, a sick part of you likes this. Why is your body betraying you like this? You know it's wrong, you know that it's disgusting, yet when he starts to move harder against you, you can't help but lean into him. You shut your eyes closed and frown at the idea of really doing this, however you're already giving in to him, only a few more touches here and there and you'll be on your knees, sucking your big brother off.

"Mm Y/N- just give in already, I know you want it too. Please-" His voice is needy, and the way he says your name almost makes your knees buckle. This is way too much to process right now.

"Mikey, you're my brother, I can't- we shouldn't." Your voice cracks and you're noticing just now that you're crying. The small tears rolling down on your already wet face. Why are you crying in the first place? Is it because you don't want him, or the exact opposite and you're scared of yourself?

One of his arms leaves from where he held onto you, to caress your face, his touch so soft and light you thought it was just a hallucination. Yet again he moves against you, reminding you of what is going on, and the small breathy whine he makes, pries your eyes open. The sound sending a shiver down your spine, and it makes you wonder how his actual moans would sound like.

"Y/N, let me touch you- please, please ple-"

You take one of his hand and slowly lead it south, to your already wet opening. His breath hitches and you lean into his touch; you let his fingers explore your insides without shame. For a good second you forgot he's your brother, the way his fingers curl in an overly precise way, hitting all the good spots makes you whine just for a bit more; and you can't help but start riding his fingers on instant.

"Look at my little sister, she's practically riding her brother's fingers, such a good little sister. You make my dick so hard, I'm all worked up because of you, can you feel it? The way my cock is yearning for your attention."

"Ugh- mhm, yes I can feel it. But Mikey, we shouldn't be doing this..." A moan slips as he keeps hitting your G spot over and over as you're trying to speak. Your brain is telling you no, to stop this, but your body is craving more of this.

"But Y/N- I know you want it. You're already riding my fingers, just look at yourself. I'm your big brother, I know what you want better than any guy out there. Just please, let me do this for you." His voice is something you already loved, and the way he's saying these sentences into your ear whilst his fingers are moving in and out of you, it's just such an out of body experience as pleasure consumes you. His fingers stop right before you could cum though, he wants to hear you say it, and you feel like you might say it.

You're writhing with the duality of the moment, you both want to let him make you cum and run out of the shower because this is so wrong... But you have to decide; and you chose the latter. So you finally give in and just nodded for him to continue.

"Please- Mikey, let me cum... I- I need it, I need you." There, you said it for him, and... you liked it. However, he doesn't need you to say it twice, without further ado he goes back to fingering you. His pace a lot more faster now, building you up for orgasm.

"You feel amazing around my fingers Y/N... your tight little pussy is clenching around my fingers for dear life. Such a good little sis for me, aren't you?" His other hand lets go from your waist and goes to rub your clit softly, just to stimulate you more, now that you gave in completely.

"Y- Yes Mikey, mhm- awh, just let me cum... please-" You were desperate for that release by now. Desperate enough to reach back and wrap a hand around his dick. A whimper left him at the sudden friction as you stroked him once, twice.

"Y/N- if you keep doing that I'll have to fuck you, and we don't want that to happen. Do we? No, we don't. That's for late-" But that just encourages you to stroke him harder, stopping his sentence where it was. His hands stopped working too and that made you whine, at last you figured if you wanted to cum you can't have him between your hands.

"Mmm- Mikey, you keep stopping just before I cum... Okay, I won't touch you, just- Please." He gave your earlobe a soft suck and went back to fingering you, those long and delicate fingers, driving in and out, curling just when he knew he had to and his other hand rubbing your clit softly.

From all the build up already, it only took him a few more faster thrust until you came undone over his fingers. A shudder went through you and your sight went pitch black for a second, you cummed moaning your big brother's name in the shower.

Yet he wasn't near done, no, he kept going, overstimulating you until you begged for him to stop.

"Mikey, no! Stop- please, don't."

"What now little sis? You want me to stop? You were begging me to continue not long ago, why should I stop now?" He was teasing you, the motherfucker knew you were overstimulated. So you just grabbed his hands and tried to stop him.

"I already came, you're overstimulating me- Stooop." Another shudder went through you, and you felt your knees buckling in on themselves.

After he made sure you were really over the edge he pulled his fingers out and stopped. You leaned back into him, letting your body relax from the intense orgasm he made you feel. A few minutes passed by in silence as the water still flowed from the shower head. You gathered some energy into yourself and finished showering.

But when you left the shower and wrapped a towel around yourself, Mikey didn't leave. No, he stayed in there even after you dressed and left. You didn't know what he was doing in there, but you had the slightest idea that he was jerking himself off.

#dark fanfiction #darkfic #dddne #dead dove diner #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #archive of our own #mikey way #mikey way fic #mikey way fanficiton #mikey way smut #mikey way x reader #my chemical mikey #my chemical romance #mcr x reader #my chemical fucking romance #mcr #mcr smut

37 notes · View notes

hearts4golbach · 1 month ago

Text

Sober Thoughts.

Pairing:

TBP!Mikey Way x AFAB!Reader.

A/n:

I'm such a slut for drunk comfort, I can't write enough

not proofread

Warnings:

friends to lovers implied, feminine presenting reader, mention of alcohol/being drunk, bad breakup, depression mentions.

Word count:

1.8k

To say the last 2 months had been rough would be putting it lightly. Your boyfriend of almost a year had broken up with you over your mental health. This fact crushed you, sending you spiraling. You didn't contact anyone, didn't leave the house, and rarely got out of bed. Mikey hadn't seen you for a week since the breakup, so he decided to do something about it.

He took the spare house key from under your vase, knocking a few times before heading inside. He found you in bed asleep. He looked around your generally tidy room, which was now a reck. He didn't mind taking down the dirty dishes and putting up the clothes that crowded half of the bed. He wanted to support you in any way he could.

Mikey hadn't heard about the breakup from you, but from your ex himself. He was the type to post everywhere about how grateful he was that he was out of a 'toxic' relationship, so it didn't take long for him to find out.

He didn't want to push, though. For the first week, Mikey texted you nearly every day to see if you'd respond. You never did, so he figured it'd be better if he was there in person.

He crawled into the other half of the bed, making sure to leave you enough space as he lolled off to sleep (despite the fact it was only 7 pm).

You woke up a few hours later, groggily rolling over to see him sleeping peacefully next to you. You flinched, not expecting your best friend to break into your house. You didn't mind, though. A sense of comfort washed over you.

To be fair, you had seen all the texts he sent you. You barely had the energy to respond. Even then, what would you say? The fact that he had even bothered to come over meant the world to you. You knew no one else would try. Not that they didn't care, but they had better things to do. You were sure Mikey did, too, but he still put you first. It was rare. Not even your own ex would've done this. But Mikey did.

You didn't move. You just watched Mikey, as creepy as it was. The sounds of his soft breaths were comforting. You sat up, reaching for your water on your night stand. You relaxed your shoulders. They had been tense since the breakup. Hell, your whole body had been. You noticed that he had cleaned up a bit for you, making your heart swell.

After that night, you had seen Mikey nearly every day. He spent the night frequently, especially on the days he was busy with the band. If you thought you were already close with him, all the time you had spent together brought you even closer. Slowly but surely, you had started to get over your horrid ex. Mikey was your shoulder to cry on, kissing the top of your head as you cried in his arms. He was your rock while you were still trying to get back on your feat.

It became easier to leave the house. You would drag Mikey with you to go get groceries or simply to run to the gas station to get snacks for movie night. You weren't sure how he put up with you, but he did.

Eventually, you had begun to fall for him. You noted every small motion; the way his eyes would flicker down to your lips, how he rested his hands on your lower back, the way hugs were longer than before. You began to question if he felt the same way.

The best thing was, it felt right. He wasn't just a rebound. He was the possibility of something real.

Mikey generally kept you away from alcohol or any other addictive substance. He didn't want to drag you down that rabbit hole, considering you were much more susceptible to it due to your mental state.

He hoped that would stay the same, even though he invited you to a party. Everyone was going (all of his famous friends and the rest of the band), and he knew it would be a good chance for you to get out there again. The most human interaction outside of him was with the guys and at work.

You were skeptical at first, unsure about being around all of those random people. Mikey didn't pressure you, but offered the fact that it might be good for you to truly go out. The hopeful look in his eyes made you cave, and you had actually begun to look forward to it.

The night of, you had finally settled on an outfit. It was a black dress, one of your favorites. You also took the party as a chance to wear your favorite pair of heels (that you spent more money on than you would like to admit).

Mikey was there at 7:45 pm sharp, dressed in his usual party attire. He stepped out of the car and met you on the sidewalk. "You look amazing" he greeted with a hug. His hand rubbed your lower back softly. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah, let's go," you smiled. It was a genuine smile, one that Mikey had got to see a lot more recently. "You look even better."

He grinned, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and leading you to the passenger seat. He opened the door for you and helped you in, then you were off.

The house wasn't far, roughly a 14-minute drive from your home. You and Mikey met Gerard out front, who greeted you with a warm smile.

"Hey! I'm so glad you came," he gave you a side hug. "It's nice to see you out."

You nodded. "I'm glad I agreed to come. Why would I miss a night out with my favorite people?"

He shrugged with a smile, shaking his head before walking inside. You and Mikey followed him in.

You examined your surroundings. It was pretty calm. There was music playing, mixed with the noise of a million different groups having conversations. You took a deep breath before following Mikey deeper into the crowd.

Neither of you went straight for the drinks, but you knew you'd get there eventually. When you drank, you didn't drink to get buzzed: You drank to get *drunk*.

Eventually, that's what you did. Mikey never left your side and opted not to drink since he was DD for you. He had picked you up, after all.

With your low tolerance, it only took a few shots to get you tipsy. It made you feel more alive, and it was much easier to speak to people, so you didn't see any problem with taking a few more.

By 10 pm, you were tipping over your own feet. You gripped onto Mikeys arm for stability as he made his rounds speaking to different acquaintances and friends.

Only 30 minutes later, you dragged him back to the makeshift bar in the kitchen. He looked at you skeptically as you poured another shot. "Are you sure you need that?"

You looked over at him, setting the bottle of vodka down and picking up your soda. "I mean," you paused, recognizing your slurred speech. "Not necessarily."

"I think we should go," worry laced his voice. "I'm getting tired anyway, and you're worrying me."

"Don't worry about me, Mikes." You gave him a tight-lipped smile.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Let's get you home," he insisted.

It took a lot of convincing to drag you out of the party, to his surprise. You said goodbye to the guys before reluctantly following Mikey out to the car.

Your eyelids were heavy as you rested your head against the cold glass of the car window. Your mind wandered, thinking of how kind Mikey was to you. Even if you could be a bit annoying, as proven in the past 30 minutes. He was always so gentle. You looked over at him, admiring his features that were emphasized by the moonlight.

He noticed this, glancing over before returning his eyes to the road. "What are you thinking about?"

"You," you blurted, returning your gaze back out the window.

He laughed softly. "Well, what about me?" He pulled into your driveway, placing the car in park.

You shrugged, clumsily climbing out of the car. Mikey met you halfway, catching you in front of the car. He carefully wrapped his arm around your waist, helping you up to your front door.

You handed him your keys after a horrible attempt at unlocking your own door. "I'm sorry," you said quietly.

"Why?" He asked, leading you up to your bedroom. "You didn't do anything wrong," he couldn't help but giggle as you tripped up the stairs, muttering encouragement along the way.

"Dragging you down with me," you laid on your bed, grateful to be home. "You deserve a lot better."

"You're amazing, N/n. You're not dragging anyone down," he reassured, slipping off your heels and tossing them on the floor. "You're the best best friend I could ask for." Your heart stung at the word 'friend.' You couldn't help your hurt expression, or maybe you didn't notice you had one, but Mikey did. "What's the matter?" He asked softly.

You watched him through tired eyes as he rummaged through your closet, looking for comfier clothing. "I love you, Mikey." You blurted, immediately regretting your words.

He turned around to look at you, his expression softening. You told each other you loved each other all the time, but he knew this one was different. He could see it in your face, the way your eyes held a hopeful gaze as you looked up at him. "I love you too, Y/n. But you're drunk, I don't want you to -"

"I love you, Mikes," you repeated, as if he hadn't heard you clearly the first time. "I have for a while now, I just.. couldn't tell you because I can't lose you and," you paused, wiping the tears from your eyes.

"Hey, it's okay. I love you, okay?" He sat next to you on the bed, running his fingers through your messy hair. "I love you," he emphasized. Your heart skipped a beat as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away. "I want to talk about this tomorrow. I don't want you to make any decisions you'll regret right now."

His fear was understandable. You knew what he was thinking: if you agreed to date him right now, you'd simply break up with him in the morning. You knew that wasn't the case, but you didn't push it. You were content in that moment and that's what mattered.

You simply nodded, letting him unzip your dress. He helped you change into pajamas before crawling under the covers next to you. He pulled you into his chest, holding you tight as if you'd slip away. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, rubbing your back softly as you let sleep take over.

#fanfiction #fanfic #hearts4golbach #my chemical romance #oneshot #mikey way x reader #mikey way #mikey fucking way #drunk comfort

29 notes · View notes

littlesunshine1223 · 1 year ago

Note

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

103 notes · View notes

centralperkspoison · 2 years ago

Text

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.

304 notes · View notes

2therazor · 22 days ago

Note

smut prompt 8 x tbp era mikey way??!?!??! i feel lile tbp mikey is just so dirty nasty tbh like hes so dom idgaf

ignorance is your new best friend

"Open your legs for me, baby. I wanna see you."

(prompts originally from @delusionisaplace)

anon i could not agree with you more… so here we are!

w/c: 2,210k

content warnings: afab reader, rough sex, dom!mikey, brat reader, reader is a sound techie for the band lol, also mikey is kinda a jerk sorry, angry sex, kinda angst but a happy ending

a/n: (finally writing this like three months later.... oops.. sorry...) not proofread, so there may be some grammatical and mechanical errors. also don't rlly know if I like this one... oh well!

you are responsible for your own media consumption.

mikey had always liked to act oblivious. oblivious to your antics, more so. all day you'd been following him around backstage like a sad dog wanting attention, but still, he paid no mind.

was he ignoring you on purpose? trying to push your buttons? trying to see just how far he could get before you would fall right back into his arms (and bunk) for the night.

you tried not to dwell on it, after all if something was wrong mikey would say something, right? you dragged your feet around backstage to the catering table, picking at the stale sandwiches left behind.

"jesus, what's wrong with you dude?" a voice came from behind you, and from none other than frank, possibly the most nosy friend you've had in your life.

you quickly turned around, trying to hide the empty feeling that mikey was ignoring you. you had been sleeping together for some time but had never really had the "what are we?" conversation. you had kind of hoped it stayed that way though, you were just a sound tech for the band, but had known mikey for years.

shaking your head you murmured, "i'm fine frankie, besides it's not really your business anyways" slowly walking away from the catering table, head down. you loved frank, but you didn't really have the energy to gossip about your tragic sex life at the moment.

before you could walk even three steps away, a foot was placed in front of yours, causing you to look up, face to face with frank.

"you're annoying, you know that right?" his smile wide and as stupid as ever. you really weren't getting out of this one, were you?

surrendering your pride, you take a deep breath in, then sigh. "it's mikey, he's kinda just been ignoring me all day. it's pissing me off, and he won't really tell me why either. i dunno, I just wish he'd talk to me about it instead of acting like I'm some plague-ridden peasant or something."

frank looks at you a moment, studying your expression. for a moment, it looks like he's about to say something. then he just reaches out, puts his hand on your shoulder and calmly says: "it's not you, I promise. mikey just has a lot of things he needs to tell you, but instead of telling you, he likes to pretend his feelings will just magically disappear. but he's kinda a fucking idiot so…" he trails off then slowly pulls you into a hug.

you could probably cry, but whatever deep dark secret frank just shared was way too cryptic. what did he mean it wasn't you? what did he mean mikey had things he needs to tell you? it was all too confusing. god you wish mikey would just grow up and tell you instead of ignoring your advances all day. nonetheless, you let go of frank and wipe a small tear forming in your eye. "thanks frank."

"yeah," he rubs your back a bit. "just don't tell mikey I told you, or you might find my guts by your door tomorrow morning." he grinned, dragging his feet on the concrete behind him.

"five minutes everyone!" a loud voice rings from behind you. sound check was done, now it was time to sit through an hour and a half long show and pine over mikey for most, if not all of it.

you sigh, heading to your side of the stage. this was going to be the longest hour and a half of your extremely short lived life.

the show had come to an end, and you weren't really upset anymore, just very very bitter. you needed to talk to mikey or you would drive yourself insane the rest of the tour. so as soon as he stepped off stage, damp and sweaty hair, you grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him aside.

he glanced down at you, a smug look on his face. "hi.." he started.

"why have you been such a dick today mikey? you've been ignoring me since we got off the tour bus, and you won't even tell me why?"

again, he just looked down at you and smiled cockily. "you like it when I play games though don't you? you love having to beg for my attention," he leaned down so his mouth was in the shell of your ear "you love having to beg for my cock, don't you?"

fuck. he was such a fucking asshole. this is the whole reason he was doing this? to piss you off so you'd fuck him?

"grow the fuck up mikey. if you have something to say to me just say it. we're not 16 anymore, ignoring so i'd fuck you is beyond low."

"that's funny you say that," his hand reaches for your chin pulling it up so it faces him. "because you fall for it every single fucking time" before you can retort, he pulls you in for a kiss. not a tender one either, quickly opening your mouth with his tongue and grabbing you by the waist. your knees are weak, your heart is beating fast. he's right. you fall for it every goddamn time.

he pulls away for a second, setting his bass on a stand. "come with me to the dressing room, we have like 20 minutes max"

annoyed and horny, you oblige, quickly pushing your way past the rest of the sound crew and a few other unrecognizable faces.

as soon as the door swung open, you didn’t even have time to think before mikey pressed his lips against yours. the whole situation was so juvenile. sneaking off to make out, him ignoring you so you’d fuck him. you tried to ignore the pain in your chest as he slid his knee to your core.

you stifled a moan at this, grabbing his hair, pulling him in harder. if he wanted to get you worked up, he was gonna have hell to pay.

“god, you’re so pretty like this.” he breathed heavily into your neck after feverishly breaking the kiss holding you two together.

“are you gonna keep teasing or are you actually gonna get me off mikey?” you pushed your pussy further onto his leg, grinding on him as he casually left marks that everyone would defininintely give you shit for later.

“fuck,” he stuttered, moving his hands to remove your jeans finally.

you smiled lightly, knowing you had him right where you wanted him. you moved your hand to grasp his black locks once again, just to bask in the small noises he made, just for you. a ping of jealously hit your chest, just the thought of him making these sounds for anyone else made you want to fuck him harder.

he swiftly took off your underwear after making a show of taking off your jeans, pressing two fingers inside of you before you even had time to think.

“only i get to see you like this, you’re mine” he whispered in your ear as he worked another finger inside of you, slowly moving his thumb around your clit.

that sentence alone almost had you falling apart on his skilled fingers. you shuddered a breath at his possessiveness, knowing that deep down, no matter whoever the fuck else he was sleeping around with, you were his regardless.

“mikey please” you pleaded with him, not even really sure what you were begging for at this point.

“what baby? what do you want from me?” he spoke softly, genuinely sounding sincere. it broke your heart a little more than it should’ve, honestly.

you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but bit your lip as hard as you could trying not to cry.

“shh… it’s okay baby. i’m sorry for being a dick all day, i’ll give you what you want. does that sound okay?” he brought a hand to your cheek, stroking it slowly.

you gulped quietly, nodding your head back at him.

“just- let me eat you out first. please?” he went to kiss your neck again, sucking down another bruise on your skin.

you nodded, trying really hard not to cry this time. he was so caring and sweet, even when you knew he wanted nothing more than to fuck you over the dressing room table.

he picked you up again, your legs wrapping around his hips as he carried you over to the dresser to prop you up.

once he set you down, you looked down at him as he started working you open once again, with his tongue this time. and god did he know how to use his mouth. you briefly locked eyes with him as he worked he licked a stripe up your pussy, occasionally adding a finger. your hand flew to his hair as he added two fingers and worked you open with his tongue. he was absolutely perfect in the dim glow of the dressing room.

“fuck mikey, i-i’m close.” you breathed heavily as he showed no signs of stopping.

“then come. come into my mouth baby, please. please i want you so bad.” he whined.

and just hearing his pleading, your hand gripped his hair tighter as you shook above him. he wasted no time undoing his belt and you couldn’t even register he had too, taken his jeans off as he pressed gentle kisses and lovebites up your thighs.

he grabbed a condom from his discarded jeans, quickly rolling it on and stroking himself a few times. he captured your lips in a kiss, brushing a stray strand of hair from your eyes.

“hey. you’re so beautiful.” he laughed

“yeah yeah,” you rolled your eyes playfully. “are you gonna fuck me now or what?”

“maybe if you’d stop being such a brat.” he was closer to your face now, slowly taking your features in.

“what, are you gonna make me beg again?” you scoffed, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“nope. just gonna fuck you until you cry baby.” and with that, he pushed into you, hard.

your breath stuttered as he continued to pound into you at an unforgiving pace, he was really serious about holding that promise, wasn’t he?

“fuck baby, you’re so tight, open your legs… wanna see you,” he grunted as he bit your shoulder lightly.

you moaned again, pushing him in further with your legs.

he didn’t slow down at all, fucking into you at a brutal pace. “tell me you’re mine. tell me you belong to me.”

“fuck, i’m yours mikey. all yours, please,” you whined, feeling yourself tighten around him.

“and who’s the only one that gets to see you like this?” he added, not faltering his pace as he continued to pound into you.

“you, you and no one else mikey-” you felt the tears that you held back earlier, threaten to fall again. you wanted to tell him so badly that you loved him, and you had secretly hoped he had felt the same way about you. sure, you were his during sex but the thought of being his all the time was making you cry.

“god, you’re so fucking pretty when you cry for me baby,” he wiped your tears gently with the back of his palm. “-m, really fucking close baby.” he added as he connected his lips to yours again.

“mikey please come-” you broke the kiss to say, letting more tears fall from your eyes.

“fuck!” he threw his head back as you felt him twitch inside of you. you came shortly after seeing the dark bruises you left on his neck.

after a few minutes of you both recollecting yourselves, mikey pulled out throwing the condom in the trash a few feet away. he slowly inched towards you again, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“i’m sorry for being an asshole earlier, i just- sometimes i don’t know how to deal with my feelings and-” he blurted out.

“mikey,” you cut him off and said sternly.

“is this you scolding me or?” he started

“god,” you laughed at the absurdity of the situation, running your hand through his hair. “mikey, i like you. and i’m really tired of pretending that i don’t because it genuinely hurts me every time we hook up. i want you, i want to be with you..”

“fuck. i thought you would never say that to me. i thought that maybe if i was just a dick to you my feelings would go away but obviously that was terrible of me.” he caressed your cheek again, looking into your eyes.

“i love you mikey.” you said without thinking, your heart stinging after, scared he wouldn’t say it back.

“i love you too. i’m tired of sneaking around with you, i want to take you out and show you off, you know? i think i’ve been in love with you a little longer than i’d like to admit…” he smiled as he ran a hand through your hair. “i’m still gonna be mad at you for this, just so you know.” you smiled as you pulled him in for another kiss. he returned the kiss, sliding his hand down to your waist. and just like that, your doubts and worries washed away.

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

56 notes · View notes

oldiesstationlover11607 · 3 months ago

Note

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

118 notes · View notes

misfits-in-motion · 1 month ago

Text

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

29 notes · View notes

xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx · 1 year ago

Text

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.

Tags:

@alexstyx @jayloverthe3rd @robinruns @lookalivefrosty

@omgsuperstarg @fivelegance @deadlovers @casmustdiee

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:

@imkindofajacketslut @ittybittybassist @jacket-slut99

@theoreoenthusiast @victoriavic @stupendousthingsweets

193 notes · View notes

m1lkywaymikey · 1 month ago

Text

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

10 notes · View notes

lucajayms · 5 months ago

Note

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

53 notes · View notes