#my chemical romance x you

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

Whatever Was Before... - Mikey Way x Reader

Summary: Mikey and you don’t get along, even hate each other. Having to share a room and bed one night reveals that this is not true at all. Reader: no pronouns used, can be read as any gender Warnings: getting into fights Word count: 3500 A/N: Happiest of Birthdays to the one and only @robinrunsfiction​! I got a whole bunch of writing coming your way, so you better get ready, my dear ;) Also this is the belated Birthday Fic for Mikey, I just thought I could pack both birthdays into one ;)

Mikey was laying in the dark, acutely aware of your even breaths at his side. He wished you would have left the lights on, at least a small one, but he had not wanted to make things between you even worse by asking. Somehow the darkness in hotel rooms was always so absolute and foreign, even though there was a thin beam of light from a street lantern shining through the closed curtains. If asked, he could not have explained it, how the absence of light here differed from the one at home. But it felt suffocating; just as it felt suffocating lying next to you.

His stomach twisted at the thought of you only inches away from him. He was not sure if it was in a good kind of way or a bad one. He knew it shouldn’t be in a good kind of way. In fact, he was supposed to hate you, just as you hated him. The constant fighting between you drove him up the walls, while the other band members laughed it off. But you made his blood boil. Mikey did not even remember how it had started. It just had always been this way. Sometimes you were screaming at each other from across the room, sometimes it were hissed comments or death glares, but every interaction he had ever had with you had been filled with the same hateful tension.

There were moments where he began doubting if it really was only hate between you, like when he had to wake you at three a.m. and you blinked up at him sleepily. Then his heart beat faster in his chest with something that could not be waved off as hate. It was affection. And Mikey hated himself for it just as much as he hated you for making him feel that way. And perhaps even worse: not noticing that there were more emotions involved for him than hate.

Now, laying in the dark, he felt his heart beating in his throat, still mad at you from the fight you had had earlier, and at the same time nervous about how close you were. The fight had been about nothing basically. It had been about you being you, you always finding a way to make the band members’ less glorious qualities still seem admirable and human. Like when people made fun of Frank and called him chaotic and a menace, you defended him, saying he was passionate, no matter how many times he had fallen into your drum kit already. Or when people called Ray anti-social (which really was not true) for not hanging out with others as much as the rest of the band, you said he was the quiet genius, whose mind was working relentlessly to create new music. And the same way you had found ways to turn criticism at Mikey’s bandmates into compliments, you had done the same for him at a talk-show earlier tonight.

Mikey knew the host would go into this direction, when he begun describing everyone’s style on stage, Frank’s energy, Ray’s head banging, your passion, Gerard’s prancing. And Mikey’s passivity.

“You’re just not moving that much, are you Mikey? Scared of falling over cables,” the host teased.

Mikey just shrugged, the awkward silence that begun building in the studio drowned out by the ringing in his ears as he was avoiding eye contact with anyone. At his side he felt Gerard take a breath to say something, but you were faster.

“’s just, not everyone needs to move around to have a great stage presence, you know,” you chirped cheerfully.

Mikey’s eyes snapped to you, boring into your side as you smiled innocently at the host. You had done what you always did: make the band look good. And never let on to the public that there was any kind of tension between you and him.

Mikey knew he should not be as upset about it as he was, but his blood had been running hot in his veins, and as soon as the five of you had been backstage, he had blown up in your face, asked how you thought it was okay to always interfere and what not. He could not even remember what he had said to you. You had not react much, only asked him to not shout as loudly, which had made it even worse. The others had ignored him entirely, Frank only snickering about weird flirting techniques. So he had swallowed down the acid that was scratching his throat, desperate to get some kind, any kind of reaction from you. But you had not relented, had not given him the satisfaction to react to his jabs during the way to the hotel at all.

Neither of you had been happy about having been assigned to the same room, but you both knew better than to protest and argue with the manager. And both of you knew better than to argue if one of you should sleep on the floor. You both remembered the days in which seats in vans and narrow beds, that needed to be shared, had been the greatest luxury, so a big, soft bed was something neither of you would be willing to give up on, and somehow you both had silently agreed to argue over anything but the bed.

That had not stopped Mikey from sending one poke after the next your way, until eventually, much later than he had expected, even you had run out of patience, and got loud as well. Somehow it felt good to have you shout at him, rather than take his insults silently. It started with him saying you were always interfering, continued with you calling him ungrateful, went over him randomly insulting your music, to you screaming in his face that you hated him, and ended with the bathroom door slammed into his face.

He had not protested, and instead used the small sink next to the bathroom door to refresh himself, and brush his teeth, even though he had been so enraged that he felt like running ten miles. You had stayed locked in the bathroom for a whole while, the water of the shower still running as Mikey eventually decided to go to bed.

He had left on the ceiling lights, pulled the blanket over himself, and listened to you eventually turning off the shower. After that you had taken another half an hour in the bath. Mikey had tried to fall asleep, but been too distracted by the cluttering in the bathroom. Were you brushing your teeth right now? Applying lotion to your face, or doing whatever night routine you had?

A few times he had heard something that almost sounded like a sniffle, as if you were crying, and each time it had taken all his self-restraint to not jump out of the bed, bang against the door, and beg you to let him in so he could take care of you. But each time his pride had won, and he had stayed in bed. When you eventually had stepped out of the bath, he had pretended to be asleep. The scent of your body wash had streamed in waves from the bathroom. It was the same scent that always clung to your hair and clothes, the same scent that made Mikey’s heart beat a little faster, that threatened to drive a blush into his cheeks. All the reason to hate you even more, for making him feel like a lovesick teenager. But the way you had quietly been moving around the room, assuming he was asleep, and trying not to wake him made it hard. Not even an hour ago you had screamed at him about how much you hated him, and now you had been trying not to disturb his sleep. After every little noise you had made, you had paused, listening whether you had woken him, before eventually crawling into bed next to him.

He had felt the mattress dip with your weight, and heard the ruffling of the blanket. Then you had turned off the light. At that he almost would have spoken up, would have asked you to keep it turned on, or at least turn on the lamp above the bed, but he would rather lie awake in the dark than let you know he had not yet fallen asleep.

It had been a few hours since then. Your breath had evened out quickly, signalling him that you had fallen asleep, and for hours he lay awake, listening to your breathing and the rustling of the bedsheets when you moved in your sleep. Again and again he tried to close his eyes, but each time he did, he had to think of you, screaming about how you hated him before slamming the bathroom door closed, shutting him out. Maybe that was what he actually feared most: that one day you just shut him out.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden change in your breathing. Before it had been even, rhythmic, but now it was hasty, erratic, panicked. He had heard similar changes often enough when he had slept in Gerard’s room, and his brother had had a nightmare. And as if to confirm Mikey’s suspicion, you began twitching and shaking your head, mumbling unintelligible words. His heart twisted painfully, wishing he could somehow help you, but if he woke you up, who knew how you were to react. And it really was not his problem if you had nightmares, right? You were an adult; you could deal with that yourself. Normally he would not even notice because he was asleep himself.

That mind-set lasted for a whole of three seconds, before he reached out his hand, brushing it carefully against yours, and whispered your name. Like a reflex your fingers clamped shut around his, and almost immediately you calmed down. Your breathing was still fast, but you stopped moving as much.

“Mikey,” you whispered into the darkness, making his heart almost stop. He was sure you were still asleep, and yet he nodded.

“I’m here,” he whispered back, hoping that no matter how much you hated him, you might still find comfort in his voice. “I’m right here.”

You groaned quietly, still holding onto him, and began moving around in the bed. And before Mikey really had comprehended what you were doing, you had crawled to his side, snuggled against his chest, and thrown an arm around his middle, your legs entangling with his. Mikey felt himself going stiff, while simultaneously euphoria and panic were washing through him. Euphoria because this was the closest you had ever been, panic at how you were to react should you ever find out about this. Most likely you would try to lynch him or something.

He tried to relax, and forget about any possible future scenarios, instead focusing on the moment, on your soft cheek on his chest, the weight of your arm around his middle, the warmth that was bleeding though your pyjamas and his into his skin. A part of him wanted to stay awake, wanted to watch you sleep. Now you were calm again, clinging to him. How long would it last? Mikey was not foolish enough to hope a situation like this would ever arise again, so he wanted to savour every second of it. But it was like your presence was the best lullaby, and before he knew it, he had fallen asleep as well.

~*~

You woke up from being too warm. Sleepily you kicked the heavy blanket away, which had pooled around your waist, only to realise that there was something else that kept you warm, even though this warmth was gentle and soothing, not as heavy and intense as the blanket.

It was then that you heard the even breaths of the person you were sharing the bed with, the calm heartbeat of the man whose chest you had rested your head on. It hit you like a brick, that you were cuddled against Mikey. For a moment your heart threatened to jump out of your chest, but then you felt his arm around your shoulders, and his hand around yours, and relaxed. How had you ended up like this? You could not remember, could not remember if you had rolled over to him or the other way around. But either way, at least subconsciously he did not seem to mind.

Tilting your head back, you tried getting a glance at his face. He looked peaceful, calm, quiet, almost happy. There was still barely any light in the room, making it hard to make out more than his face, but you kept staring at him anyway. He was beautiful like this, you realised, beautiful and calm and almost otherworldly. It was nice being this close to him, feeling how warm he was, how alive, having his strong arm wrapped protectively around you.

You had dreamt of sleeping like this for so long, but a sense of dread settled in your stomach at the thought of what he would do when he woke up. For a moment you toyed with the idea of moving away from him, but in the end you could not bring yourself to do it. Lying like this was too peaceful, and no matter how angry he would be when he woke up, it would be worth just one more second of this.

You were between waking and sleeping, still looking at him through sleep heavy eyes, when he eventually stirred, long before your alarm clock was due to ring. He took a deep breath, and squeezed his eyes closed before slowly blinking them open. You knew you should move, should get away from him, sit up, scoot back to your side of the bed, but you were too entranced watching him to do anything of the sort. You just watched as he slowly woke up.

It did not take him long to notice you at his side, and when his eyes met yours, they widened a fraction before softening. God, you would give about anything to have him look at you like that more often.

He blinked at you, a soft smile on his lips, and you expected him to say something, anything really. Make a comment about how you were clinging to him, make fun of how your hair looked after the night, or just say at least good morning, but instead he stayed quiet, and just watched you.

“Am I dreaming,” he eventually whispered, his voice causing a deep vibration in his chest.

You wanted to answer, but were at a loss for words, so you just shook your head carefully.

“Then I want to stay like this forever.”

His words were so gently spoken that they tore at your heart, and almost drove tears to your eyes.

This time you just nodded in response, and both of you kept looking at each other until the first beams of sunlight flickered into the room.

“I don’t actually hate you,” you suddenly whispered, not quite certain where the words came from. Mikey’s smile faded as you reminded him of the last words you had said to him the previous night. “Sometimes I think it’s pretty much the opposite. It’s just easier to say I do. Then I don’t have to admit that I actually…” You trailed off at the end.

For a long moment he just stared at you, his eyes almost sad as he tried reading your expression as you were still resting your head on his chest.

And then, without warning, he lent down, and pressed his lips to yours, surprising you with a soft kiss. Although less a kiss than a brush of his lips against yours. The action took you by surprise, but like a reflex you lent up into him, pushing closer as your heart was beating hard, anxiously, while your stomach began filling with butterflies.

How often had you dreamt of him holding you this close, of feeling his soft lips against yours? It had been daydreams, which you could not even admit to yourself, after which you had been even more irritable around him than usual; and dreams at night, which left you out of control and at total mercy of your infatuated heart.

Now, kissing him for real, feeling his hands settle against your body, and melting into your skin, was better than anything you could ever have dreamt of. His kisses left you breathless, but it felt like the only way to sooth the need for air was to kiss him more, to taste the mint of his toothpaste from last night, the sweetness that stuck to his lips, and made you dizzy. How had you gone without this, without him, for so long? How had you been able to ever shout at him, be mad at him, be irritated about him? None of it mattered anymore, the thoughts flowing away like leaves on a river, as he kept kissing you, kept making your heart jump, and your breath hitch. Perhaps it would have embarrassed you, to have such a reaction, but he reacted the same, shivering when you ran your fingertips down his neck, and gasping slightly when you kissed him harder.

It was only the ringing of his alarm clock, that suddenly tore you out of your bubble of happiness. Trying not to break the kiss Mikey fumbled for his obnoxiously loud blaring phone, eventually managing to turn off the alarm, but the harmony was interrupted, and you both had been reminded of the world around you. You were still in a hotel room, in the middle of tour. You would need to pack your things, maybe go for breakfast and then head for the bus in time.

Suddenly all these things felt overwhelming, and you wanted nothing but to hide away into Mikey’s side, and hope that your responsibilities just went away. But that was not how the world worked, so, against every instinct, you sat up in bed, looking down on Mikey, who looked back up to you. His lips were red, pulled into a gentle smile, and his eyes were soft, with blown wide pupils, as he watched you.

“We need to get ready,” you whispered, your voice hoarse as you talked.

Mikey nodded and watched as you turned to slip out of bed, but just in the last moment he caught your wrist, making you turn back to him.

“Whatever was before- I don’t care why it was like that.” His voice was rough, emotional, you realised, and wasn’t something you got to hear every day, not like this anyway. You got angry, furious, outraged Mikey, but never soft, overwhelmed, insecure, hopeful Mikey. Not like you did now. “But no matter what, I don’t wanna go back to that.”

You reached a hand out, the one that was not caught in his, and brushed your fingers over his forehead, along his temple, over his cheek, and eventually bent down to peck his lips again.

“Neither do I,” you whispered.

You knew the words exchanged were both apology as well as a confession and promise. An apology for past behaviour, failed communication. A confession of love. A promise to do better, to talk to each other.

Mikey looked at you for a moment, how you were hovering over him, who was still resting in the pillows, and then he leant up again, pressing his lips to yours once more, more heated this time, and pulled you back down to bed.

Eventually, in a few hours, someone would knock on your door to remind you of bus call since you would not have turned up to breakfast. And Mikey and you would laugh at their supposed joke that the two of you should stop making out, because outside they did not know how true it was. Walking together on the bus, hand in hand, Frank would comment on a change in flirting-tactics, and Gerard and Ray would bicker along, earning nothing but an eye roll and perhaps a middle finger from Mikey and you. And then, escaping yet another discussion about lemon slices in coke, Mikey would pull you back to the bunk area and into his bed, because hell, it had only been ten minutes but he already missed your lips against his. The bed would be narrow, less comfortable than the huge hotel bed, but it would feel safer, more like home, as close to anything that was not home could feel like home. And eventually, after you would have fallen asleep, Mikey would stay up, just to watch you lying in his arms.

But none of that was of any importance right now. It was in the future, and all that really mattered was the moment, were Mikey’s lips against yours, his arms pulling you closer against him, and your hearts beating hard in a rhythm only the two of you could hear.

Taglist:

@alexstyx​​​ @jayloverthe3rd​​​ @robinruns​​​ @lookalivefrosty​​​ @butterflycore​​​  @omgsuperstarg​​ @fivelegance​ @deadlovers​​ @kpopchangedmylifesstuff​​ @casmustdiee​

#mikey way x reader #mikey way x reader fluff #mikey way x reader imagines #mikey way x reader fanfiction #mikey way x reader fanfic #mikey way x reader imagine #my chemical romance fanfic #my chemical romance fanfiction #my chemical romance imagine #my chemical romance imagines #mikey way x you #my chemcial romance x reader #my chemical romance x you #enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers trope #one bed #one bed trope #angst to fluff #angst to comfort #angst #fluff

[pseudowho]

When I was a young boy, my father took me into the city, to see a marching band.

He said, "Son, when you grow up, will you be the saviour of the broken, the beaten and the damned?"

He said, "Will you defeat them? Your demons, and all the non-believers, the plans that they have made?"

"Because one day, I'll leave you, a phantom to lead you in the summer, to join the black parade."

-- The Black Parade, My Chemical Romance

#jjk #kento nanami #jjk nanami #kento nanami x you #nanami fluff #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento #Jjk s2 #specialz #my chemical romance #mcr #nanami kento angst #nanami angst

[dumblilb]

till my jaw locks and my tonsils are raw

#my chemical romance #frank iero #frank iero x reader #frank iero smut #gerard way #mikey way #ray toro #my chemical romance smut #pro rev #revenge era #revenge frank #pro rev frank #you brought me your bullets i brought you my love #the black parade #mcr tbp #three cheers for sweet revenge #tcfsr

[concatenationart]

I’m trying to let you know how much you mean

#they are GIFTS #etc #dead fucking rats #demoliton lovers #mcr art #my chemical romance art #x #my chemical romance #digital art #i brought you my bullets you brought me your love

[controld3vil]

two psychopaths

pairing(s): dune 2 cast x actor!reader (platonic), austin butler x actor!reader (can be read as ambiguous/platonic/romantic, WHATEVER YOU GUYS PREFER)

synopsis: requested by this ask and this!

alt: regardless of you two playing psychopaths, in reality, you were the sweetest human beings ever.

notes: i applaud austin butler for his performance omg!! dually noted that the reader has hair that is long enough to be put into a ponytail (they are showing off a cute hair tie they got). NO BETE READ i apologize !!

You should have expected something. If not for your past antics, there would be no reason for them to be here. It was touching really, playing against your own tactics.

Without delay, in the morning, you were going to buy breakfast. When you decided and reluctantly remembered your cast members were going to have an interview around the same area. The building was close by, a block from the café shop. And so you rushed across the street, with a butter croissant in one hand, and a hot drink in another.

"Boo!" As you had snuck behind, grabbing both of their shoulders together in a tight squeeze. You could feel Timothee Chalamet's body jump while Austin Butler feeling startled, and involuntarily jerked back to swat your hand.

"Hey!"

"Oh my gosh, you scared me!"

"That was the point!" Your snickering was quickly joined by the film crew behind the scenes. It was all caught on camera and gave a great spook for everyone on set. You could still feel your heartbeat pumping as you tightened your grip on both of their shoulders.

"They really got you two!" The host of Comicbook.com and interviewer Brandon Davis exclaimed, covering his mouth with his fist. You were glad he and the rest of the crew obligated you to sneak in, a few minutes before their interview. Your eyes followed behind the movie poster to the corner, where you had laid your breakfast. Making sure nothing slipped or stomped on.

"Now we're really gonna get you next time!" Timothee's voice brought your attention back to him. Your grip never leaves his side, as he holds onto it as if threatening you.

"I'd like to see you two try," Nodding as you sneered. To add more to the competition, you gave a shaky handshake without breaking eye contact.

On the other hand, Austin could only lean back in his chair with an amused grin. "I thought you also had an interview today?" Tapping your hand on his shoulder, casually not minding your invasion of his personal space.

Your attention shifts, and you smile sweetly. "Mine is after lunch so I still got time." Lowering your tone, playfully mimicking Austin's voice. "I'll see you guys later though, enjoy your interview!"

As you release your grip to pat their heads, Timothee swerves to wave goodbye. Almost hitting himself in the face with your hand. "Alright- whoa see ya!". In an instant, Austin gives you a look before patting his seatmate on the back.

You grabbed your belongings, then thanked everyone walking out. Brandon Davis looked even more ecstatic now, knowing the actor's moods were lifted, looking a lot happier and pumped.

"Well what a great start to our interview huh?"

"Hm?"

"Oh yeah, the best!"

In turn, a couple hours after, you and Josh Brolin had been seated for the start of your interview. It was arranged by Maude Garrett, with whom you had talks with Jessica Ferguson before. Meeting her again was a pleasant encounter. You had a fantastic time with her last time and believed it would be no different with Brolin by your side.

"Hey!" She squeals out your name, hands in the air. "I'm so happy to see you again!"

"I came back just for you," Clutching her hand, you wave it back and forth. You were gleaming with joy as you seated yourself next to Brolin, who gave you a confused smile.

"You two know each other?"

"Oh no no-"

"I did an interview with her and Jessica," you clarified before glancing at Maude, "She's really nice!"

"So that's why you wanted to come along?" Josh exasperates a sarcastic groan. "Do you not want to do interviews with me?"

The humorous banter does not diminish throughout the interview. No, having worked with Josh Brolin through Dune, you were always attentive to his words. You can tell how passionate he is to be a part of Dune. The way he's communicated with Villeneuve and the producers, made you appreciate him more. Even before the interview had started, Brolin had brought up a book he had been working on with Greig Frazer of the photography of Dune.

You knew it was a fun project for him and he even gifted you one of the first few copies before release.

"Do you think Duncan Idaho is going to be a big part of Part 3?" Brolin and Garrett were having a conversation about potential possibilities for the Dune universe. As it was a well-known fact for book readers, more complex characters and plotlines divert after the first novel.

While you sat patiently, only ever observant of of their interaction. "I mean, I love-"

Suddenly there were screams. Boom! Your eyes lit up as if a sudden alarm had gone off. It was then two bodies came crashing towards you to notice what was happening. The two young male actors hurdled over you and Josh Brolin in a frenzy, surrounding you all in a big bear hug. You could decipher your mentor's frightful yet affectionate grin.

"Oh my gosh!" You almost shrieked, hand instinctively placing over your heart in reassurance. Timothee stood by Brolin's side, shaking him side by side. While Austin held onto yours, having the time of his life at your expression. You could tell already that cameras were caught yours and Brolin's slow-mo reaction.

"What's going on?!"

Mumbles of excitement were scattered on the scene. You could not stop smiling, as you placed your hand on top of Austin's, looking at him in pure defeat and fondness. As if saying, you got me.

"Thank you, god!" Josh happily cries out, bowing his head pure of joy.

Eventually, the Elvis actor lets go and formally greets the interviewer, shaking her hand. "Hi, I'm Maude! Nice to meet you!"

"Is this the interviewer you were talking to me about?" Austin looks at you, questionably. "The one asking about the popcorn bucket?"

You nod, enthusiastically. "She is! Maude, I was raving about you!"

"Awh!" The blonde female places a hand over her heart, warmly. She pouts lovingly at your comment. "How sweet of you!"

On the other side, Timothee grins back at Brolin before saying his hellos to you. "Hey, how are you?"

"I literally saw you hours ago!" You pointed your index finger directly at him, scoldingly. However, in return, the French actor laughs, and before hearing Austin turning to Brolin.

"We got the books."

"We got them and you got to sign it." Timothee states, placing both his hands on Brolin.

"Ok!" Suddenly the shot pans to you, having your mouth wide open.

"We'll bring em'- Give me a little- give me a little personal message-"

"I love you guys!" The older actor bellows, opening his arms for all of you three to join in one last hug. Seconds after, Brolin pats his French costar adorably on the back as a farewell. "I love you! Get outta here!"

The camera pans to Timothee moving towards your seat. As you discreetly mumble, making puppy dog eyes. "I get to sign too, right?!" He only chuckles before softly punching your shoulder as a gesture of approval.

"We got you good this time!" The French costar makes finger guns, playfully shooting at you in victory. You couldn't help but blow a raspberry in denial.

"I didn't know you guys were gonna do it today!"

"That was the whole point!" Austin chastely pats the back of your seat, gliding his hand to connect with yours to shake.

Sometime after your encounter, you and Austin managed to meet again in Los Angeles. It was when the Associated Press wanted to have you two for an interview with their AP film writer, Lindsey Bahr, to speak on topics that would pertain to both of your characters. You, coming back from the first film, with a new profound experience. Upon his introduction, Austin's character, Feyd-Rautha, is portrayed as a calculating and highly skilled warrior in Harkonnen's fashionable way.

You couldn't wait, as you sped into the boardroom where the interview was taking place. Lindsey Bahr beside the camera, was casually chatting with Austin as the rest of the crew prepared for the shoot.

The two of you gave each other a quick hug before taking your seats to get comfortable.

"Oh look what I got from New York!" Your head spins clockwise to show the back of your head, only to confuse Austin and the rest of the crew profoundly. This was a small snippet the Associated Press wanted to keep in the interview. They believed it was a great preview promoter to display your and Austin's relationship with each other.

"What is it? What are you showing us?" The blonde-brunette male puts forward, as the camera zooms in on him inspecting you dumbfounded. It pans to you grabbing your hair tie before turning back to face the audience.

Your hair once slicked by its restraint is now free and lies on your shoulders. It doesn't fall evenly on you though, but almost awkwardly due to the gel in your locks.

"Look at this!" You show it to the camera with a hand holding the item. And another, palm up to allow better focus. It was a character plush hair tie. One of a loveable cookie with one eyebrow raised. It even had one big tooth sticking out. "Isn't it cute?"

"It's adorable!" Linsey says with a smile. Your grin was contagious as she admired your high enthusiasm for the small accessory. "Where did you find it in New York?"

"In a BTS store," you pierced your lips together, thumbs smoothing over the face of the plushie. "I was looking for a gift for my cousin. And then I saw a bunch of displays of these!"

"I like his little expression," Austin perks up, arms relaxing on the armrest. Though his posture was leaning to look at the cute ornament in your hands. "He looks questionable intrigued."

"He is," You agree, locking eyes with him. "He kind of looks like me, yeah?"

Your costar charmingly laughs, as you lift the cookie next to your face. You did your best to mimic its expression, trying not to break. "He kind of does actually," Before leaning to push away some strands of your hair behind your shoulder.

And the interview commenced smoothly. It did not feel one-sided or exclusive from one person. You and Austin were able to enjoy yourselves, talking and reliving the moments you had onscreen. You barely had any scenes together, in fact, both of your characters were across planets from each other by the time the climax of the film began. Though it had mostly focused on Paul's and Feyd's rivalry for the throne even then. Little was known about your characters together despite having fair similarities in combat, and personality.

Then there was a question that came up from Bahr, asking if you all, specifically the younger casts spent time together after filming or stayed in your hotel rooms.

Austin decided to step in and respond. "I mean we had some dinners- when we got hungry."

"I'd say both. I mean it was rare for the five of us to be together because of our production schedules." You say, scratching your arm upwards. Out of your peripherals, you could see Austin nod in correspondence. "Otherwise, most people were really beaten up. I mean- I think me, Florence, Timothee, Zendaya, and Austin are the tamest bunch you know? Dinner was the latest school night we had."

"Right, we'd be so tired," Your male costar snickers, covering his smile with his hand.

Then it was like a light bulb flashes above your head when your eyes flash in revelation. "We did like to go shopping a lot together."

"Really? How was that like?"

"A lot of hours, that's for sure." Austin crosses his arms, exhaling a long groan. Only for you to have a guilty pout, shyly backing up in your chair. Even you did not deny his claims. "I mean- with them, all of the bags get piled onto me."

"I try to spend less every time I go shopping with him," You wave your arms defensively. With an amused smile, the Elvis actor could only want to listen to more, back fully leaning on his chair. "Though me and Zendaya love to go shopping all the time."

"It must've been a hectic shopping spree!"

"The most hectic," Your costar spouts a satirical groan as you dismissively smile and shake your head.

And most of all, you were fortunate enough to be invited to Graham Norton's show alongside Josh Brolin and Austin Butler. Coincidently other stars such as Olivia Coleman and Jodie Foster were present which made you more instantly excited. It was a row stacked with amazing actors and actresses. Even you, who have been considered in a few films were more than ecstatic to meet every one of them.

It took some time into the interview when Norton brought up Dune. As he went down the line of people, Austin was the last person on the couch yet to be asked a question. You were sitting beside Josh and Jodie Foster, whom you eagerly met backstage only minutes prior when you all went onstage. It was all nerve-wracking from the start. However, the longer you sat and talked, the more comfortable you became with the people you so charismatically looked up upon.

"Now Austin," Graham raises his hand as he directs everyone's attention to the TV screen, "Now what the fuck happened to you?" Then a still image of him in all costume as Feyd Rautha appears. Leading the audience to laugh and even a few chuckles from the couch. Graham's straightforwardness too caught you offhand as you cough not so subtly in the background.

Waves of ohs and awes rippled from person to person.

"Did you- did you know- yes that's Austin!"

"By the way- that's how I met him the first time because everyone said if you met Austin- Oh you're gonna love Austin," Brolin starts, one arm leaning against the back of the couch. "And then finally, I knocked on his trailer door- and I opened the door to this pasty bald emaciated thing." More laughter erupts as you sweetly grin at the faint memory of their meeting.

"But you didn't shave your head?"

"I was- I was going straight to another film and uh- called The Bike Riders with Tom Hardy and Jeff Nickels who was directing," Austin explains the director specifically asked him not to shave his head. As it would be difficult to grow back quickly and transition from Dune. "So the wonderful hair and makeup team did that to me." As he points back to the picture of him and Lea Seydoux.

"Wow!"

"That's a bald wig!"

"Yeah isn't it incredible?" The Elvis actor gleams back at Olivia and then to you. You give him a wider grin, cocking your head sideways until the attention is drawn back to Graham.

"And also, it's not just- it doesn't- where does it start?"

"It attaches where my eyelids are," He points and the rest of the actresses could only stare in astonishment.

"Whoa, you didn't have to shave your eyebrows either."

"That's- wow!"

"But it's incredibly meticulous if they're a millimeter off, you can't open one eye and uhm- so yeah they were incredible." He explains, pointing closely to his eyelids to make a better visualization of how detailed his look was for the crew. Truly it was an astonishing character design, and to have Austin fill in those shoes was a great casting choice. You couldn't think of anyone else to play Feyd.

"Was it like an hour?" Jodie brings up, having one hand on her chin innocently.

"It was three hours." Disappointed grunts and groans came from the two women beside you. It was as if the moment he mentioned how long it took, all the enthusiasm to try bald wigs was out of the table. It was hilarious, both Olivia and Foster looking back and avoiding eye contact with anyone. Seated next to them, you followed along, shaking your head so slightly, staring at them as if saying, really?!

"Shave my head!" Graham shouts and yelps agreeing to his holler followed the room. Seconds after the noise disperse, the host turns his eyes on you. He brings your attention, saying your name in confidence. "And uh- here's the thing, you had the complete opposite! People have said that you had to grow out your hair- either or have extensions to have longer hair."

"Absolutely the complete opposite for me," You cheerily perk up, saluting your drink to Norton. The audience snickers, followed by Brolin bursting out in a howl. "But- yes I would say I had to grow out my hair for this film. To the point where I had many intricate braids in my hair."

"It must've been so nice," Josh chides, almost too enthusiastically. He crosses his arms and you give him a look of caution, playfully so.

"Yeah luckily you didn't have to deal with all of my mess," Austin motions to his hair, and immediately you let out a whistle. Again the back of the crowd responds well to your banter. Everything went so smoothly whenever you were with your cast mates. You were the most comfortable with them.

"Very very true!" Norton points his flashcards to you, "Would you have shaved your head if you- two had switched roles?"

"Honestly why not," Shrugging, you could hear some murmurs of surprise and intrigue. "I feel like I would be very comfortable with the bald wig too. But I mean if I cut all of my hair, I wouldn't have to grow them out anymore."

There was a semblance of mutuality while some still expressed their preferences (Olivia and Jane). Though what was most prominent to you was Broliin balling his eyes out. While Austin looks at you in pure confusion and stupefaction.

"All that to not grow out your hair?!" Josh exclaims, and the shot perfectly catches him clenching his chest from how much he was cackling at your odd comment.

"I mean that's one way to do it," Austin had a much slower reaction as it seemed at that moment made you break. Only to have you glance down at your shoes because of how much you wanted to laugh uncontrollably.

"I think it'd be cool no?" You try to say, slowly breaking into laughter. The rest of the crowd cooed at how you were with your costars. You always manage to include them in every conversation, showing how much care you had with everyone you had worked with. "I feel like the material of the bald wig would be super cool to touch."

"It's- it's a latex-"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Graham hushes, one hand shielding his mouth even though everyone can hear what he is saying. A huge wave of roars and screams echoed. And all you could do was cover your face and hide behind Brolin.

Yet the most unforgettable moment that would define your relationship with Austin is not even with the two of you present. In fact, it was in an interview with him,with Timothee and Zendaya. During that time, you were paired with someone else. But it was a small mention of Austin's first days of filming for Dune that kept viewers occupied.

"When you- fitting in with you know, coming into this group," It takes a few glances for Austin to look at his costars. "What did that feel like to you?"

Austin locks eyes with Zendaya then Timothee, "You both were so kind and welcoming and- uhm-"

"And we bullied him for the first week," The mixed actress casually mentions, as it can be heard off camera, sounds of agreement. "No, I'm kidding!"

"We had to break him in," The French actor nods, playing along to their scheme.

"Yeah, exactly exactly," The brunette actor goes even further with it, "Hazing rituals."

Zendaya raises her finger. She refers to you with such warmth. "It was more than hazing rituals. I mean- actually, they were doing crazy dance moves and-"

"They're just full of sunshine," Austin beans ear to ear, eyes only evident of fondness. "Super warm and welcoming."

Timothee cocks his head slightly to the side. "Welcome to Arrakis!"

#dune #dune part two #dune cast #dune x reader #dune imagine #dune x you #paul atredies x reader #paul atreides #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #feyd rautha #feyd rautha x reader #feyd x reader #austin butler #austin butler x reader #chani x reader #chani kynes #zendaya #zendaya x reader #princess irulan #irulan x reader #gurney halleck #my chemical romance #TOO MANY SLICES #brain dead

[cordspaghetti]

everybody look 2 the right

#you don’t understand how much i rlly love to just #draw them in a line #mcr #my chemical romance #digital art #x

[lefttoesucker]

The sharpest lives :)

I'm not sorry

#this took way too long #this has been the bane of my existence for the past month or so and im just so fuckin glad it's over #crying actual tears right now #can you tell I've been emo since middle school? #my chemical romance #my beloved #the sharpest lives #ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #soapghost #call of duty #ghost #ghost cod #john soap mactavish #ghost call of duty #soap cod #ghoap #ghost x soap #soap mw2 #call of duty soap #soap mactavish #my art

[saintxgerard]

Gerard talks with his hands and it’s the one of the sweetest things about him! x

#another speedrun of gifs because needed to get these out to the world #video source in the x #god im in love with you gerard #gee way #gerard way #mcr #my chemical romance #my chem #mcr gee #mcr gerard #my chem gerard #my chem gee #mcr gifs #saint.gif

[gothedrals]

gerard way, 2022 // freddie mercury, 1986

#sorry but #unnecessary parallels post #beloved frontmen <3 #thank you once again paul harries #gerard way #freddie mercury #mcr #my chemical romance #queen #queen band #g #queen x mcr

[hearts4golbach]

#fanfiction #fanfic #johnnie guilbert #jake and johnnie #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert x you #johnnie guilbert smut #johnnie and jake #hansumfella #gerard way #i brought you my bullets you brought me your love #my chemical romance #mychem #hearts4golbach

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

Packaging - Mikey Way x Reader

Prompt: P: Packaging (Wrapping presents is never easy. How do they fair?) (from this list) Reader: can be read as any gender (no pronouns used) Word Count: 927

With a groan Mikey grabbed the ripped wrapping paper and balled it together, abandoning it carelessly over his shoulder. For what felt like hours he had already tried wrapping your gift in a way that made it look better than if a first grader had taken some paper and some tape and wrapped both in equal amounts around the present, namely an intricately shaped box which contained a simple necklace with a small pendant on which the date you had met was engraved. He had the same necklace, still hidden away in the deepest corner of one of his bass cases, which you never touched. He had ordered them both together at a small local gold smith, fully intending for both of you to wear the matching necklaces for special occasions. He had even had the gold smith add a bracelet for you too, so you could choose whichever you might prefer. And the box the gold smith had delivered the jewellery in was what gave Mikey a headache now.

It was remotely shaped like a tree, fine engravings in thin wood decorating it. If the box had been shaped like a stupid, normal, rectangle box, Mikey was sure he would have been finished ages ago. But instead, he had almost used up half a roll of wrapping paper, since it always ripped right before he was finished. For a while he stared at the stupidly beautiful box before him, seriously considering to just grab one of the many small gift bags that had collected in the basement over time. The box was pretty enough as it was, it did not really need packaging, did it?

But Mikey wanted it to be perfect. He wanted you to be irritated and curious about the strange shape of the gift before you could tear away the wrapping paper to see the name of the gold smith’s shop. Just pulling the box out of a bag would have been too simple.

So he grabbed the paper roll, and cut off another stripe of paper. Once more he placed the box in the middle and began folding the paper. He had started (and failed) many enough times to by now have almost perfected the technique in which he had to fold the paper so it would nicely wrap into all the small cut-outs of the tree-shaped box. Sweat was collecting on Mikey’s forehead and he clenched his jaw in concentration, carefully holding the paper in place as he placed the first tiny strip of tape to keep the paper in place. It almost would have worked, but as soon as he wanted to place the second strip, the paper snapped open again.

Mikey groaned once more, biting his lip, before carefully, carefully, trying not to get stuck on the paper with the second strip, placed the first one back where it belonged. And this time it worked. Quickly he fixed the rest of the edges, adding strips of tape so the paper would not jump open again, and when he leant back, he sighed deeply.

A quick glance at the clock told him that he had not much time left before you came home. With shaking hands, but still more prettily than ever before, he tied a small bow to the box, finishing the elegant look.

By now he was exhausted. His eyes hurt from staring at the detailed work the whole time, his fingers had cramped up when he had focused, and his jaw was tight. But at least he was happy with his work.

Quickly he grabbed the wrapped box and the wrapping paper roll and ran to the basement, hiding the gift back in the bass case next to his own necklace and putting the paper back next to the small gift bags where it belonged.

He had just cleared the dining room table and floor of the leftovers of the destroyed paper, when the front door jumped open, announcing your return.

Mikey wiped his hands on his trousers, and nodded to himself. He could not wait to give you the gift. He knew you loved gifts where you did not know what you were getting. The glimmer of curiosity and childish happiness in your eyes made his heart stutter every time, and he certainly had made up excuses just to give you something to see you look at him like that.

Maybe he could show you his own necklace once you had opened the box, and if he was really lucky, you would even ask him to help you put on the necklace. He knew he'd brush his fingers over the soft skin of your neck, if you did. It was absolutely unnecassry to wait for such occasions in order to do this, since he could ask to be close to you any time he wanted, but the hopeless romantic in him still shivered in delight at the mental image of getting to help you put the necklace on. He could even place a kiss on your hair, or gently nudge the back of your head with his nose…

He got torn out of his daydream by the sound of you dropping your keys in the hallway, followed by an annoyed groan from you. Pushing the thought of the necklace to the back of his head, he quickly rushed into the hallway to welcome you home. Until he could give you the necklace he would most certainly find a plethora of opportunities to be a sappy boyfriend, starting with preparing a bath for you and cooking dinner.

Taglist:

@alexstyx @jayloverthe3rd @robinruns​ @lookalivefrosty​ @butterflycore​  @omgsuperstarg​ @fivelegance​ @deadlovers​ @casmustdiee​ @cmtryghoul​  

#mikey way x reader #mikey way x you #mikey way x reader imagines #mikey way x reader imagine #mikey way x reader fanfiction #mikey way x reader fanfic #mikey way fanfic #mikey way fanfiction #mikey way imagine #mikey way imagines #can be read as any gender #my chemical romance fanfic #my chemical romance fanfiction #my chemical romance imagine #my chemical romance imagines #my chemical romance x you #my chemical romance x reader #my chem fanfiction #my chem fanfic #my chem imagine #my chem imagines #mcr imagine #mcr imagines #mcr x reader #mcr x you #mcr fanfiction #mcr fanfic #christmas calendar #christmas alphabeth #advent calendar

[mintspidey]

passenger- ray toro

summary: either it was the budding chill in the air, or the wet dream you had about him, but you could not get ray toro out of your mind. going so far as to ignore him at every chance you got not only hurt him, but you as well. you couldn’t focus on anything, ray consuming every single facet of your brain. when gerard offers you straightforward advice, you actually consider his ramblings, no matter how useless he was when he came to his own love life. you weren’t sure if it was worth blurring the lines of friendship. but you did know that you couldn’t wait any longer.

author’s note and warnings: ray toro/gn!reader. friends to lovers, some frerard mentions, smut, porn with plot, oral sex (m receiving), dry humping, reader gets off on his leg while sucking him off, car sex, no reproductive parts of the reader mentioned, ray is HUNG. reader doesn’t suck they swallow.

“fuck… i’m so close…” you breathed out.

you rocked your hips, thighs straddling his waist. his large hands covered your back, gently pulling you into him as he threw his head back, exposing his neck. your lips latched onto the awfully bare looking skin under his jawline, planting open-mouthed kisses as his hips bucked into yours.

“fuck, i’m not gonna last if you kiss my neck like- ah- like that…”

you felt his pulse against your lips, nibbling on the skin against his collarbone. “then i better keep going, huh?”

he suddenly stopped moving. confused, you sat back up and looked at him, “what?”

“do you want to take a break?” he asked. you tilt your head, bewildered.

“no, do you?”

“do you want to take a break?” he repeated, his face deadpanning.

“what? what’s- going on, are you okay?” you were concerned. why was he acting like that?

his voice was louder this time, “do you wanna take a break?”

“no, i don’t, why do you keep asking me this?”

“do you want to take a break?” you pulled back into reality as ray’s voice broke the daydream you embarked on, not realizing how you had spaced out mid-rehearsal.

it was two in the afternoon, the chill in the air slowly seeping through the crevices of your bandmate’s basement door. chapped lips and a dry tongue had you croaking into your mic, audible gulps following each line of yours. you sweated through your flimsy shirt, shifting weights with the guitar on your neck pulling you down to the floor. restless fingers grasping stray strands of your hair to move them back into place every few seconds, making sure you looked presentable.

the distorted note on ray’s guitar rang in your ears before he muted it, leaning in your direction. the drums in the back trailed off as you practically heard frank’s eyes roll.

you roughed up your bottom lip from chewing on it like fodder. you needed to rip your hair out one follicle at a time. you wanted to scream. you wanted to slam this stupid guitar that strained your neck against the wall and storm out.

a sudden, strange pressure to be perfect in front of your bandmates took over you. before that week, you didn’t care if they saw you fuck up because you knew that they knew how good you are at what you do. you respected the band and the art just as much as they did.

did it have something to do with the sort-of life-changing information you received a few days ago? definitely not, you thought.

so why was it that when you and gerard grabbed coffee a few days ago, and he made a passing comment on the fact that ray, a good friend and the lead guitarist of your band, had a sex dream about you, you spat out hot coffee on his new jacket?

why was it that you had tuned out gerard whining over his ruined jacket because you were too busy trying to calm your heart rate?

why was it that that exact night, you dreamt about making out with ray in the backseat of his car, fogged up glasses, handprints, and all?

and why, of all that is good, did you tell gerard about this? he had not stopped teasing you about it, and it started to feel like he never would.

you could almost hear that sneaky little shit’s thoughts through his expressions- which ray was happily unaware of. gerard grabbed his mic, held it close to his open lips, and pressed his tongue against his cheek repeatedly, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, mocking your dream.

it was bad enough that your brain decided to see ray, your bandmate, in such a new light, now you were daydreaming about dry-humping in the back of his car and being called out by gerard for doing so.

if you could kill anyone at this moment, it would be that fucker.

that was the fourth time you messed up at rehearsal. arriving late, sweaty and out of breath to practice wasn’t enough, apparently. it was as if you had to piss off your bandmates further. gerard and mikey’s house was fifteen minutes away from yours, but when you woke up five minutes before band practice, you barely had time to put on a decent outfit let alone eat something, before grabbing your backpack and bolting.

so, when you ran into the brothers’ basement, you were greeted by a symphony of annoyed groans and “finally!”s, unable to meet their eyes.

you wish you started off with tiny mistakes that didn’t matter too much. you wish. first, you missed your cue to sing. second, you simply forgot the lyrics.

and anyone who said third time’s the charm,was a liar, you soon realized. you spaced out mid-song staring at the boy in front of you, long curly hair framing his eyes, fanning out over his soft lips.

fuck, not now, you scolded yourself.

“guys, i’m so fucking sorry, i just…i don’t know what’s fucking wrong with me today-” you ducked your head, hands reaching for the guitar strapped around your neck to free yourself from the weight that felt unbearable at that point.

“i can think of a reason…” gerard quipped sing-songily, cocking an eyebrow at you.

the glare you threw at him was equally as charged, making him motion at his lips as if he were locking them up and throwing away the key.

“maybe you should take a break…” ray repeated, ignoring gerard and readjusting the strap around his shoulders. frank looked like he couldn’t wait for this conversation to be over so he could start playing again. mikey was quiet as usual; he was one of the more easygoing of the bunch. no drama, nothing.

you looked up at ray, guilt painting your visage as you exhaled slowly. you knew you need a break. you know he’s right of course.

you cannot blame yourself either. the fact that you both had sex dreams about each other makes you want to chew drywall. you promised yourself you would not ever fall for any of your bandmates, not even accidentally: a promise that seemed laughably doable after the first week of knowing them.

now that you actually noticed his every movement: the way his curls bounced, the way his fingers moved like butter across the fretboard, the way he could improvise the best melodies at the drop of a hat, the way he threw his head back while experimenting on the guitar that looked like it weighed nothing to him.

it was like there were permanent rose-colored glasses surgically attached to your face that emphasized every breath and blink of the hunk of a guitarist standing in front of you. thinking about him made you feel high, and you hated the amount of pleasure you derived just from recounting every feature of his.

you couldn’t look ray in the eyes. it was way too risky. what if you start giggling for no reason, or acting weird?

“i think i’ll… go home and take a nap. maybe that’s what i need.” you accepted defeat, rubbing your temples and bending over the couch behind you to grab your backpack.

“what you need is to get lai-”

“are you okay to perform tonight?” mikey asks, interrupting his brother, the only other guy to have his head screwed tight.

oh, right. the show.

amongst the whole sex dream fiasco, you had forgotten about all your responsibilities, including the gig you signed the band up for.

you nodded, “i’ll see you all at the gig tonight. i’ll be better, i promise.” you knew they would understand, but that didn’t stop you from feeling the massive weight of guilt crush your shoulders.

“do you need me to drop you off if you’re not feeling okay? It’s no big deal,” ray offered, about to take his guitar off his shoulders.

“no!” you shrieked. too loudly. gerard snickered in the back.

it was bad enough that you couldn’t even meet ray’s eyes, you didn’t think you could handle him driving you home, sitting so close to you, his legs spread apa-

“i can go by myself. you guys should rest up too. we have practiced enough i think… not you, gee, you could warm-up a bit.” you winked at him, hoping the playfulness in your voice didn’t sugarcoat your absolute hatred for him at the moment.

the speed with which you left the stuffy basement that smelled like beer breath, shocked you (you were far from athletic). you preferred working on your music and overanalyzing movies in your own time.

getting out in the open, fresh air made you feel much better. the growing distance from ray left you feeling empty almost like a dopamine detox would.

a slight sense of relief tagged along. the jersey air nipped at your nose as you squinted your eyes and buried your chin in your coat’s neck.

at least the headphones trailing from your ears to your backpack protected your ears against the sharp chill in the air. the thin, dark-wooded trees barely harbored leaves, forming nerve-like patterns against the dark-gray sky. the crunch beneath your converse soothed your nerves a bit as the effect of the numbing cold made you forget everything for a while. the next track in your mixtape undid all that.

it was the song you heard ray play the first time you met him.

this tall nerd in g’s basement, fooling around with his guitar to play what happened to be your favorite song. quietly humming along, toothy smile as he tried new variations of the underlying riff, shaking his head to the rhythm, huge hands knowing exactly what they were doing. the mild scent of lavender in the air as watched his fingers fly across the fretboard, being painfully obvious that you were watching him closely.

you didn’t think you remembered so much of that day. maybe you already had a thing for him, and you didn’t know it.

but how could you not? being in a band with someone who was as talented as ray made you want to become a better musician. plus, the word “crush” made you wince- it was so middle school. it was more than just physical with him.

he was always there for everyone: the responsible one, the one that made sure that when the two rowdy dumbasses, g and frank, were out of line, he fixed it. the one who made sure everyone’s input was considered.

there was no doubt that you found him the most attractive in the band; the mastery of his instrument had you obsessing over learning as much as you could from him. you would spend the most time with him than any other bandmate. sharing a cig when you could, even though neither of you were addicted to it like gerard or frank were, asking him to show you how to pinch the strings even when the band was on a break from rehearsal, him enthusiastically hearing everything you had to say about the most recent movie you saw. it was comfortable. you felt safe with him.

you just never realized how important he was in your life till that day. and that made you want to throw up.

he was just a guy. he was just some dude. he was just a man. he was just a friend.

by the time you entered your apartment to kick your shoes off and lie down on your bed, the words “just a friend” became jumbled sounds. even gaslighting yourself into believing something did not work.

was he ever just your friend?

you tried recounting every interaction with him: every time you walked to his apartment with a new movie stashed in your bag that he hadn’t seen, gifting him a mixtape you made for the songs you wanted him to listen to.

adjusting his glasses for him when they were slightly knocked to the side, grabbing and shaking his thighs when you were excited about something in a movie you liked.

huh, you weren’t completely blameless.

your dreaded gaze shifted from your ceiling to the clock on the wall at three pm. three hours until your gig.

three hours until you had to see him.

you let out a wail of agony into your pillow before kicking off your clothes and shutting your eyes for what you hoped would be fifteen minutes.

you woke up an hour later, groggy and nauseous from the ill-timed nap. you panicked for a few seconds before realizing you were on time for your show.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t played in front of people before. you had performed maybe fifteen shows with the rest of the boys for even bigger bars than you were about to tonight.

but of course, that night was different, because you would carry the curse of knowing you liked someone you should not be liking.

he was your bandmate. mixing business with pleasure was never a good idea, from the countless movies you had seen with ray himself. you knew this was a bad idea. but something about wanting something you cannot have just made it more enticing.

you did know not to let this interfere with the show. your work was always the bigger priority; not some stupid crush that was probably just a temporary effect of the dream.

after tripping on your way to your bathroom sink, you splashed cold water on your face to snap yourself out of sleep. an all-black ensemble; a tank top and jeans; to go with the slightly expensive shoes you saved up for was enough self-decor. you weren’t a fan of showing skin: usually seen with sweaters or cardigans and sweatpants, but you didn’t mind it for performances. especially that night.

yawning and climbing through your clothes, you dragged the tip of the eyeliner over your eyelids and on your waterline before taking your finger and smudging it. you were glad that this sort of rushed make-up satiated your desire to look good. gerard or frank, on the other hand… they went all out.

but to your pure disappointment, it had only been ten minutes.

well, fuck.

when you met your band after that disaster of a rehearsal, you made your ability to make gold out of pure shit work wonders for you. an annoying smile on your face and a strong avoidance of any eye-contact with ray had you at the perfect headspace for the performance.

even when he said hi to you, you simply nodded at him and turned your attention to your guitar in the green room, practicing and focusing on the technique and the order of the chords.

the turnout was more than you had expected. as much as you hated to admit it, gerard was the best frontman, frankie headbanged his way through the show, mikey and ray played next to and off of each other, engrossed in their performances. your stiff, focused posture received multiple side-eyed glances by your bandmates, especially mikey, but you couldn't care less

you didn’t miss cues, you remembered the lyrics, and you, surprisingly, improvised on your solo. just a little more than the bare minimum. you could work with that. you just wanted that night to end as fast as possible.

but of course, just like everything else, gerard had to make your life harder.

your attempt to drink yourself to normalcy didn’t pan out. as soon as you sprinted to the bar to get a drink (or ten) in you, you heard gerard talk about a “kickback” at his place. an afterparty, he explained. it wasn’t like you could tell him no, you lived fifteen minutes away from him, and more importantly, he could sniff out a lie when he needed to.

when you saw gerard sneak out after the show to the band’s van, you followed him, ready to confront him and get away from the crowd yelling and screaming around ray, frank, and mikey.

gerard leaned against the van, lighting up a cigarette, the flame casting a dim orange hue over his face. you catch up to him and flick the back of that idiot’s head.

“ow! the fuck was that for?” he exclaimed, trying to hit you back on your arm, but you were already away from his reach.

“you know exactly what that was for!” you yelled, slamming back into the van's door, sulking, turning to the left to stare daggers into your cherry-haired friend’s face.

“tell me the truth. did you tell ray about my dream?”

“that’s what you’ve been worried about? no, you freak!” gerard scowls, “you know i don’t gossip!”

“then why did you tell me ray’s secret?” you counter.

“because it wasn’t a secret! the others know about it too! he told them!”

“but he didn’t tell me, you asshole. that’s what makes it a secret.” you seethed, trying to flick his forehead.

he covered his head with his hands trying to swat yours away, “okay, alright i fucked up! he just didn’t make it seem as big a deal as you did, so i thought it was okay to tell you.”

oh.

you went back to stand with your back against the van, the cool metal suddenly sending sharp shivers down your spine. a rude reality check. your lungs flattened, a blunt punch to the gut making you instantly nauseous. why did you not think about that? of course it wasn’t a big deal to him. you guys were friends after all. just friends.

the older man, noticing the obvious change in energy, tried covering up, “maybe he wanted us to tell you because he was too scared to tell you himself..”

you stayed quiet, leaning against the car window, letting the chill in the night envelop your sweaty skin. the adrenaline rush of having performed seemed to have crashed as you felt your feet turn jelly.

gerard blew smoke out, ashing it between the two of you. the smell of tobacco and nicotine enveloped you, almost like a comforting hug amidst the sharp twinges of the wind.

gerard extended his cigarette to you, “i’m sorry.”

you didn’t speak. the cigarette fit perfectly between the gap of your index and middle finger, like it was crafted for your digits, you realized, sipping it slowly.

the slow burn of the smoke in your lungs almost made you want to choke almost instantly, but you fought back, blowing out the cloud of cancer.

“i think i see why you smoke… you probably go through this every day with frank, huh?” you tried pullingyour friend’s leg, earning a swift punch on your arm.

“you’re a dick.” he said, choking out smoke, clearly surprised by the sudden jab at the state of his pathetic love life.

“you love me.” you stated with a smile, sucking the last of the cigarette before crushing it under your feet and dragging open the door of the van. “when are we going to learn?”

“before we die, i hope.” he answered you, climbing into the passenger seat.

before you knew it, mikey, ray, and frank ran back to the car, a chorus of laughter following them. you straightened up at the sound of ray’s voice and hoped to god he doesn’t sit next to you in the car.

god, however, seemed to have a personal vendetta against you because mikey decided to drive, leaving only you and ray in the backseat.

frank, for some reason, decided not to come with. said he was “busy.”

99% chance he was about to hook up with a dude whose name frank wouldn’t remember the next morning. scratch that, he definitely already forgot. you admired frank for his ability to fuck randos in bars and then forget about them the next morning. anonymous orgasms, he called them. as much as you hated it, you wanted to be like him. be carefree. be selfish. not some loser who, through the fault of their idiot, red-haired friend, developed a possibly destructive crush on their band member which would absolutely interfere with their day-to-day activities.

ray scooted into the backseat, telling mikey to turn the radio on as he rolled down the window near him, “i feel fuckin alive right now.”

“i know, those cheers had crack in ‘em. not one heckler either!” gerard added with an overtrying smile, clearly trying to recover from the fact that frankie was about to fuck a complete stranger, a whole year after their (secret) one night stand.

you felt ray look at you from the corner of your eyes but told yourself he was looking at your window.

you liked lying to yourself.

he shifted further in your direction and casually laid a hand out. a move so subtle, it would’ve seemed normal to the naked eye. a guitarist stretching his fingers after a show wasn’t uncommon, certainly not questionable. but you. you knew exactly what he was doing.

and you did not care for it.

“he didn’t make it as big a deal as you did.” why. why. why did you do this to yourself.

if it were acceptable, you would have hit yourself but you didn’t because you had to look like you didn’t care. you had to look like you didn’t care that ray could tell you were bothered without you having to say a word. you didn’t care that he was caring and still wanted to talk to you after the way you treated him.

and you loathed yourself for it.

he was nice to everyone. he was observant with everyone. right?

ray, however, did not remove his hand from near your thigh, almost bumping into your leg multiple times as the car rode over bumpers.

“drive properly, way!” you barked, looking back at the buildings and cars whooshing by in a blur.

you tried your hardest not to be part of any conversation by sulking into your seat so much that you hoped you would turn invisible.

by the time you reached gerard’s place, you were positive you wanted to drink yourself into the next morning because you did not want to remember anything. having a crush never bode well with you, and you were starting to think that it would never.

you were the first one at the cooler in his basement to fish out two beers and camp on the right end of the couch. the soft, sinking cushions had you exhaling in relief as you cracked open the beer.

ray, mikey, and then later, gerard filtered into the room, taking seats on the floor, or the ottoman.

and of course, ray sat on the small couch. right next to you.

his thigh pressed up against yours, his (huge) hands covering his knees as he shifted back and forth to make himself comfortable. g threw him and mikey a can each before perching on the ottoman and turning the tv on.

as you chugged the beer, you ignored the heat radiating off ray’s body; the scent of cologne mixed with sweat from tonight’s performance made you straighten your posture. there was a dull throb between your legs from the sudden contact he made, but of course, you did what you did best.

ignored it.

the more you drank, however, the harder it became to ignore it. so much so, that you crossed your legs and leaned away from him onto the armrest for some well needed friction.

then, ray spilled beer on his pants.

it was an accident. ray was fixated on the tv— some cheap horror flick that g thought would be hilarious to make fun of. ray, no matter how tall and buff, was a pussy. so when that jumpscare hit and instead of laughing like g and mikey, his body jerked, he spilled his whole drink on his pants, muttering a string of “fuck”s that caught g’s attention over the loud volume of the tv.

“oh, toro, don’t tell me you fucked up my couch!” gerard whined, again, getting up from his seat, flailing his arms.

“dude, i’m sorry, i wasn’t expecting to jump..” ray trailed off, rising to his feet to look down at his pants. mikey tugged ray’s arm to the door, “come on, i have some clothes you can wear.”

gerard, noticing that you looked… off, offered you a water bottle from the cooler. you chugged the bottle, cherishing the moisture that your dry throat needed and looked at your friend whose gaze bathed you in such pity that you wanted to curl up into a ball and die.

“it’s that bad, huh?”

you dropped your head in his lap, groaning and getting back up to lay across the couch, “g, i don’t know what to do with myself.”

“you were normal a few days ago, why can’t you just... be normal again?” he questioned, humor coating his voice.

“you’re saying that? miss i-wanna-fuck-frank-so-bad-i’ll-sit-through-him-fucking-the-whole-town-before-me?” you snapped, in no mood to joke around.

“touche. i’ll just go fuck myself, i guess.” he got up to walk back to his seat, genuinely sounding hurt.

“i was kidding, g. please tell me what to do. please?” you begged, hoping he would notice the sincerity of your words.

gerard pretended to think about his options for a moment before sitting back down, “fine, only because you asked nicely.” you sat up, ready to hear genuine advice.

“you need to tell him.”

“you have ten seconds to get the fuck away from me before i kil-”

“think about it!” he prefaced, “the longer you let your crush on ray stew, the more painful it’s going to be. just tell him and get it over with!”

not that gerard didn’t have a point, but it’s that you wanted a simpler, less confrontational way of solving this problem.

“what if it makes things awkward?” you whined, sulking your shoulders.

“you know ray doesn’t care about any of that right? he’s like the calmest person on the planet, and he cares about you.” gerard informed, walking back to his seat at the sound of crescendoing footsteps.

ray entered the basement before mikey, a new pair of pants that looked strange at first.

he was in grey sweats, mikey’s clearly, they hugged his legs and rode up at his ankles but he didn’t seem to mind. the moment he walked under the light, your eyes immediately threw their focus on gerard who was also looking back at you, noticing the obvious elephant in the room.

jesus fuck, was he hung. it was hard not to stare at the obvious dickprint against the cotton fabric of his sweats. gerard let out a “look at that” whistle, knowing exactly what was going through your mind.

“these are kind of tight, huh?” ray addressed, to nobody in particular, stretching his legs and adjusting the fabric around waist. a jolt of energy traveled between your legs as you watched him adjust himself in those pants.

gerard, tired of your pussyfooting, talked to you directly, “you wanna go home already?”

huh?

you looked up at him, confused, trying to figure out what was cooking in his head, “what? when did-”

“aww, shucks. i wish you could stay longer. well, i guess ray will have to drive you home since you’ve had a beer already!” he was bad at being subtle, to say the least.

what. the. fuck.

your eyes widened. you wanted to punch that fucker’s face in so bad. you weren’t ready. especially after what you saw.

“yeah, totally, um. are you okay with that?” ray asked you, his lips looking pinker than ever. almost like he was begging you.

no. no. no. nope. you were not-

“sure!” your mouth had a mind of its own.

-you were going with him.

gerard smiled sickly sweetly at you before turning off the tv and walking towards the door, a sign for everyone else to get the fuck out. you flipped him off before turning to ray and walking ahead of him so that you did not see. that.

you couldn’t get the image out of your head. sweet, guitar-nerd ray, had a huge-

“good job performing today.” ray muttered, looking down at you, breaking your horny train of thought.

“oh! uh, thanks. and you were uh-” fuck, quick think of a word, “breathtaking.”

great going, idiot. if he didn’t already know before, he definitely knows now.

“that is the first time anyone has ever used that word for me,” he chuckled, “but thanks…” his voice that was usually husky and light, now levering lower than usual.

at that moment, you wished for any god out there to take you. the embarrassment was too much.

crickets chirped in the starless night as the two of you walked through the stone-laid path between grass. your tank top was purely decorative at that point, doing barely any work to protect you from the cold. ray, a gentleman, noticed you shiver, and of-fucking-course offered you his jacket.

“won’t you be cold?” you asked through chattering teeth, hugging yourself.

“nah, im wearing a thick shirt underneath. you might as well be naked right now,” he commented, eyeing your tank top.

a furious blush rose to your cheeks at his comment. something about the way he said it, made your breath hitch, as if it implied that he had consciously thought about you naked.

ray stopped to give you his zip-up hoodie as he tore it off his torso, the hem of his tight black shirt riding up to reveal the tuft of hair trailing down his underwear. you gulped involuntarily as you watched him adjust his shirt underneath and place the jacket around your shoulders. you never realized just how tall he was before he towered over you; your eyeline was at his chest.

fuck, this wasn’t helping the butterflies in your stomach.

you thanked him, trying not to look into his eyes too much before walking to his car. ray took a beat before starting toward his car again, almost as if he was waiting for something.

his car was new— well, as new as a second-hand car could be—painted in jet black with the plate reading “jet-star” some reference to his favorite comic book series. you chuckled under your breath before climbing in, trying to warm up fast so that you wouldn’t need his stupid jacket anymore, with his stupid scent of soap, cologne, and sweat, and the stupid warmth that you definitely wanted to steal from him.

you tapped your feet nervously against the floor of the car, as if that would get you closer to your apartment somehow.

ray walked over to the driver’s seat, mirroring you and strapping on his seatbelt. he was huge. no, not just like that, but physically. larger than you in every aspect. as his fingers reached for his keys, you noticed his pants shift, igniting every dirty thought in your mind.

fuck. fuckity fuck.

“you comfy?” he asked, looking behind the car. you nodded, noticing that he placed his hand on the back of your headrest and started to back up.

you didn’t know whether it was him leaning so close to you, or the hand he threw over your seat, but your stomach would be a gold medalist gymnast for the sheer amount of times it flipped. you noticed the freckles he had, somehow more prominent under the dim orange light of his car, forming miniature constellations on his face. you were well aware that you were staring but you didn’t care anymore.

it was better you told him. you had been this way for two days already, and your condition was only getting worse. it was like ray had cast a love spell on you, and you couldn’t get rid of it no matter what you tried distracting yourself with.

ray’s eyes flickered to your face, previously brown now hazel under the light. you had never felt safer in your entire life as you did then.

he broke into a smile, “what? is there something on my face?” he asked, his left hand flying to his cheek gauging for something to pluck out.

you shook your head, edge of your lips curving up in fondness, “you know, you’re really pretty.”

instantly, he furrowed his eyebrows, clearly taken aback, “huh-what? where is this coming from? did you drink too much? you know you’ve been acting weird all day, what’s with yo-”

it was time, “g told me, you know.”

he tilted his head, like he was trying to recall what you were talking about, “about wha-”

your heart was in your throat, every beat vibrating your torso. it was then or never.

“the fucking sex dream, toro.” you deadpanned, sitting up and facing him.

“oh. that…” he trailed off, taking his hand off your headrest and resting them on his thighs. “listen, i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, which is why i didn’t tell you. i didn’t want to weird you out.” he explained, avoiding eye-contact.

your gaze was fixated on his face, listening to every single word carefully.

“is it true?” you asked, turning toward him and unbuckling your seat belt since the car was no longer moving. confusion washed over his face as he unknowingly fidgeted his fingers.

“do you feel that way about me?” your heart pounded so hard, you wouldn’t be surprised if ray could hear it too. ray looked ahead, his eyes glued to the road ahead. the faint noise of static from the radio dwindled in the air, alleviating your anxiety just a bit.

“do you?” he whispered, like he just gave away a secret.

you stumbled over your words, not expecting to be interrogated in his place, “i asked first,”

“and i’m asking you now. do you feel… that way about me?” a mixture of hesitance and expectation brewed in his tone.

your palms turned white hot, eyes widening at the accusation. you knew that the more time you took to answer him, the more obvious your feelings would be. on one hand, you wanted to tell the truth. on the other hand, you feared the worst of what could happen.

what if he didn’t feel the same way? what if this was just a ploy to get you to confess and then leave you high and dry. what if-

time moved slowly. ray let go of the steering wheel, placing his hand on your cheek, warmth spreading over your face. his fingers caressed your cheekbone, eyes looking into yours and dipping down to your lips, “tell me you don’t feel that way about me… and i’ll pull away and we will go back to being…” he looked up at your eyes, “just friends.”

the hands that were once on your thighs, gripping them out of nervousness, now tangled in his curly locks, guiding his lips to yours.

you could feel your organs jump from excitement, fingers roaming and threading his hair as he kissed you. his soft, plump lips guided yours skillfully, making you moan into his mouth. ray smiled against you and gently pulled back.

he leaned his forehead against yours. you breathed out slowly “you have no idea how long i have wanted to do this for.”

“me too. i can’t believe i’m kissing y-”

“less talking, more making out, toro.” you interrupted, pulling him in, by the collar of his tight shirt, making him gasp in surprise before pressing his mouth to yours again. his hands trailed from your face to your waist, covering half your torso.

he handled your waist like he was scared to break you, fingertips ghosting over your skin, itching to sneak underneath the fabric of your shirt and feel you. an accidental contact of his arms and your thighs made you arch into him, arms automatically hooking behind his neck.

you moaned without a care in the world, leaning back into your seat and pulling him on top of you, ready to be ravaged.

“ray …” you whimpered through the kisses, “please just-”

“not yet, i need to savor this-” his lips latched to your neck, “need to taste you.”

you bucked your hips in desperation, your arousal getting unbearable. you never knew ray was this experienced. he did mention being in relationships here and there, but he was never like frank or mikey, open to anyone.

he nibbled gently on your ear as you pawed at his broad, firm chest, “toro, you didn’t tell me you- fuck- worked out.”

“there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said through heavy breaths, trailing kisses down your neck to your collarbones. he looked up at you, fingers grabbing the hem of your tank top. you nodded, giving him permission to take it off you.

as you were about to lift your back up to get rid of the flimsy black fabric, ray’s hand snuck under your shirt, supporting and lifting your back as his other hand swiped the tank top off you in one go. his fingers almost spanned your entire back, placing you back down as you lay there shirtless.

the leather seats were uncomfortably cold, making you shiver in response. the everloving, observant man on top of you let you go and moved back into the driver’s seat, pulling the lever under his seat, reclining as low as the seats could go, “get on top.”

the sheer gray fabric of his pants now stretched as his legs spread apart, leaving virtually nothing to the imagination. your lips parted in surprise, your gut twisting deliciously. you grabbed his thigh for support as you climbed into his lap, thighs straddling his waist.

in a moment of deja-vu, you giggled softly, looking away from the man beneath you.

“what? what’s so funny?” ray asked, amused, shifting closer to your hips.

“this is exactly how it went it my dream.” you confessed, shifting your gaze to him, receiving a cocked eyebrow.

“you dreamt about fucking me in a car?” he asked, barely censoring himself like he usually would.

that earned him a playful smack on his torso, his calloused fingers drawing circles on the small of your back. you arched into his touch, trying to explain your dream. ray, however, barely focused on what you said, was distracted by your chest. hardened nipples adorned with piercings met his eyeline, and he wasted no time to kiss one of your pecs and lick them, making your voice go an octave higher.

“ray, fuck, please…” you begged for nothing, grinding down on his hips, feeling him move against your crotch.

“tell me more about your dream, was i any good?” he gave you a toothy smirk, cock stirring in his pants.

“you were so good, oh my god, you went do-” you croaked as he surprised you by pushing your hips down on his clothed dick, “you made me cum on your tongue so many times,” you answered, your digits creeping under his tight shirt, feeling his happy trail against your fingertips. you heard ray gasp softly and throw his head back at your sudden touch.

taking a mental note, you played with the band of his — mikey’s— sweatpants, leaning down to his ear to whisper, “can i? please?”

he groaned, roaming his hand up your back and down to the flesh of your ass, “yes. please, now.”

his voice exuded desperation, bottom lip jutted out in anticipation.

you climbed out of his lap and onto the floor of the car, knees resting against the floor mats. you placed careful kisses on his stomach, ambling them down his v-line. licking your lips, you hooked your fingers under his waistband, slowly pulling them off him. the pace at which the fabric dragged across his shaft made him buck his hips into nothing.

his cock jumped at the first contact with your fingers. you wrapped them around his impressive length, obviously not able to make a fist around his girth.

you weren’t a complete stranger to oral sex, but the sheer size of ray’s dick made you a bit nervous. you didn’t realize how you were already salivating at the sight of his hard, throbbing dick, palms feeling up his inner thighs and trailing up his hips, lips inching closer to his tip.

“you ready?” you asked, one final check before you crossed the friendship line forever.

“yes, definitely yes, but are you? i wanna make sure that yo-”

you cut him off with your tongue circling the tip of his cock, the saliva accumulating slowly dribbling down to his cock. ray threw his head back, cursing under his breath at the sensation of your warm tongue around his dick. he looked down at you through his bottom lashes, licking a stripe up the underside before taking him in your mouth, a visual he had been aching for.

the warmth of your mouth made him fist your hair as you moaned at the feeling of your hair being pulled, sending vibrations up his cock.

hollowing out your mouth, you sunk your mouth down on him, one hand resting on his thigh, massaging it slowly.

tears prickling, you let your drool lubricate him and drip further down before pulling him out with a pop. your drool mixed with his precum connected the edge of your bottom lip to his tip.

“you keep going like that, and i’ll be useless to you,” he gasped out, breathing heavily like he did not expect you to treat him so well.

the corner of your mouth twitched up before coiling the string of saliva around your thumb and smearing it against the slit of his tip, etching an embarrassingly loud moan from him.

“what the actual fuck…” he was enamored by you.

“how many times have you thought about me like this, toro? gagging over your cock on my knees?” you kissed his thighs, fist pumping him slowly. he felt better in your mouth than anybody else had. like his dick was made for you.

“too many fucking times to remember if i’m being honest…” he answered you immediately, twitching at your mercy.

before you could ask him another question that would make him blush furiously, turning his cheeks pink, he continued, “ever since i saw you in that choker g gifted you on your birthday... i haven’t been able to stop thinking about how easy it would be to break that fucking thing with me deep in your throat.” he mewled, the inside of his eyebrows twisting up in pleasure.

one your hands flew to ray’s leg for support, your hips involuntarily bucking against his ankle at his comment.

“fuck, why didn’t you tell me sooner, toro?” you asked, finally seeking friction against his leg, “you’re a pussy…” you wanted to provoke him.

“you are what you eat,” he countered, tossing the ball in your court.

this is what attracted you to ray in the first place. his ability to go along with whatever you said because he knew you would never say anything in bad faith. he liked you. he wanted you.

your cheeks grew hotter with every second, relishing the fact that you were exactly where you have wanted to be for a while.

he saw you blush furiously at his confession before you twisted your grip and pumped him faster, gathering spit at the tip of your tongue. ray’s fingers grabbed a fistful of your hair before lowering you onto his cock.

you spat on the tip, earning a guttural groan from him. you wasted no time to wrap your lips around him once again, closing your eyes and letting him reach deeper down your throat with every stroke.

“you feel- so fucking- oh my god-” he spewed out nonsense as you went further every time you came back up for air. ray’s thighs twitched, knees leaning toward each other, trapping you between his legs.

his grip on your hair tightened, pulling at and scratching your scalp more than before. now that you were between his legs, his cock bottomed out in your mouth, you felt your throat contract around his tip, his thighs pressing your mouth further on his dick.

ray swore that he would have simply cum from the sounds you made choking and crying over his dick. your eyeliner had bled down from your waterline to your chin, the tears and drool painting your face pathetic.

your jaw hurt from cockwarming the man above you, but he clearly seemed to enjoy the show you put on. gasping and smiling down at you like he does at his shows when he shreds on his guitar. the adrenaline all too familiar to him, yet enthralling as ever.

“you make me crazy… fuck i’m so close,” he announced, biting his bottom lip.

your left hand, with a mind of its own, walked up his thighs to cup his balls. his cock jerked in your mouth before you took him in fully, your nose pressed up against his happy trail.

“fuck, i’m coming, oh fuck oh fuck-” he wailed, pressing you further down on him before spilling his cum down your throat, twitching with each wave of orgasm taking over his body. you pulled your mouth off his dick, rubbing against his ankle, chasing the high you had built up so far.

with each swallow you rocked against his leg faster, falling apart quickly. as you tripped over the edge of orgasm, ray bumped his leg up, meeting you halfway. white light engulfed you as you shut your eyes, riding your orgasm out for as long as possible.

“fuck, you came just from humping my leg?” ray asked, astonished. your head fell into his lap, drawing small circles on the side of his thighs before kissing up. rising from your knees, you climbed back into his lap, giving him enough room to put his sweatpants back on.

“was that good?” you asked, looking down at him, hands at his waist.

his hands stroked your cheeks, fingers nudging your chin toward him. the aftershocks of your orgasm made it hard for you to rise to the seat, your grip on his thighs tightening for support. he grabbed your hips, pulling you up easily.

heavy-lidded gazes entwining, the warmth of his arms around your torso pulled the corners of your lips up.

ray didn’t even have to answer you. he craned his neck to kiss you, tasting himself on your lips. you nibbled on his bottom lip, eliciting a soft moan from him.

“why didn’t we do this earlier?” you ask softly, pulling back and looking into his eyes.

“better late than never,” he sighed, slowly closing his eyes shut, “i’ve wanted you…”

your heartbeat quickened.

“...for so damn long.”

butterflies. those damn butterflies made your heart feel like it was budding something new. something exciting.

“well you can’t get rid of me now,” you smiled, admiring the freckles on his skin; sweat glistening on his neck. the bite marks you left bloomed in reddish-violet hues under the dim light of the car. fogged car windows giving you the illusion of privacy as you kissed the corner of his mouth before climbing off of him and back to your seat.

“you’re coming over right?” you asked, looking ahead. you were not going to fuck this up.

“thought you’d never ask,” he stated simply, turning the car on and stepping on the gas.

_________________

an: heyyy!! thank u for reading!! mcr brainrot has me by the throat... lmk if u liked it :)

#ray toro #ray toro x reader #ray toro/reader #ray toro/you #gender neutral reader #gn reader #gnc #smut #mcr #my chemical romance #my chemical ray #my chemical romance fic #mcr fic #fanfiction #mychemfic #my writing #writers #mcr5 truthing #ray toro is hung #mcr fanfiction #my chemical romance fanfiction

[dumblilb]

I’m gonna rip his clit off if he doesn’t get in my bed right now

#my chemical romance #frank iero #frank iero x reader #frank iero smut #gerard way #mikey way #ray toro #my chemical romance smut #pro rev #revenge frank #revenge era #mcr #tcfsr #three cheers for sweet revenge #the black parade #i brought you my bullets you brought me your love #danger days

[concatenationart]

MAMA WE’RE MEANT FOR THE FLIES

#you should have raised a baby girl i should have been a better son #Mama #Gerard way concept art version sorry the hair is different from the music video!! #my chemical romance #mcr art #mcr fanart #my chemical romance art #x

[kafkaesqueer]

Never coming home, never coming home

The Ghost of You, My Chemical Romance // Jackieshauna, Yellowjackets

#yellowjackets #yj #shauna shipman #jackie taylor #jackie x shauna #jackieshauna #shauna x jackie #shauna sadecki #mcr #my chemical romance #the ghost of you #web weaving #lesbian #tv #sophie nelisse #ella purnell #melanie lynskey #gerard way #lyrics #three cheers for sweet revenge #yellowjackets web weaving #lgbtq #doomed yuri

[cordspaghetti]

20 years of bullets, here are 20 small images <3

#one for each song one for each guy n some Xtras #i brought you my bullets you brought me your love #mcr #my chemical romance #digital art #happy birthday beloved #x