hellofanimagination

[hellofanimagination]

Looking through old drafts and i found an mcr doctor who au and that is just so on brand for me back then lol

[hellofanimagination]

Perhaps it's time to read throam again

[hellofanimagination]

Watch Me While I Bloom

Prompt: Requested by Anonymous “ Could you do one where y/n is on the set for The Ghost of You MV and she really adores Gerard so much and he catches on this so he brought her to the dressing room and there he fingers her as his "reward" for admiring him (lots of dirty talk pls!) 😁”

Word Count: 1,913

Pairing: Gerard x Reader

--

You're standing on the sidelines with the rest of the crew, watching the band play out a scene of their new music video. They are dressed as soldiers going to war, trudging along the beach as imaginary gun fire rains down on them. It's been a few days of this, various scenes and costumes, and you have spent the entire time drooling over Gerard Way. You can't seem to help it, he looks gorgeous in the army green uniforms, his dark hair brushed back to expose his pale face and sparkling hazel eyes.

You've been doing makeup for the band and extras, you're an amazing artist and very professional until Gerard sits in your chair. Then, you can't seem to control yourself, gushing about how stunning he looks, how you admire the creative direction he takes, and how soft his skin is. It's embarrassing, your hands shake as you apply foundation and you know your face is bright red as you try and fail to hold your tongue.

It's been like this since you first saw him, a bumbling, blushing, school girl crush. You feel so silly, you're not a teenager but the butterflies and inability to think in his presence has you feeling so high school. And Gerard has obviously noticed, he throws winks at you when he catches you staring and seems to be making up any excuse to touch you. He'll wrap his arm around your waist as he leans into your space, pretending to look at the makeup brushes you're organizing. Or he'll come up behind you and you'll feel his breath on your neck and his fingers will barely touch your hip like he wants to grab hold but stops himself, and he'll ask you something pointless like the time and your voice will shake as you answer and then he's gone.

The scene finishes and there is another scene to shoot but a break is called for. You watch the guys chat and Gerard laughs and you think your heart skips a beat, he looks so beautiful when he laughs. He catches you looking at him and he smirks at you, this playful look in his eyes, and you rush away quickly. You trip over your own feet on the way to the makeup trailer, closing the door behind you and trying to breathe. Why is he toying with you like this? He must know his teasing is driving you mad.

You lean back against the makeup desk, the heels of your hands pressing into the cold, white, surface. You close your eyes and try to breathe but all you can think about is that cocky little smirk! He must enjoy your attention, he doesn't shy away but instead revels in it! You almost laugh at yourself, Gerard Way enjoying your bumbling, blushing, attention? What a silly fantasy, he probably teases you just for a laugh.

The door to the trailer opens then and you jump at the sound, watching as Gerard let's the door close behind him.

“Hi,” your face feels hot, can he tell you were thinking about him?

“Hi.” He smiles and walks into the small space, looking around before his eyes settle on you. “I've noticed you watching me.”

Oh fuck.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable!” You quickly apologize but he doesn't seem bothered, he just steps closer to you, invading your space.

“Oh, don't apologize. I think it's,” he pauses and you feel like you can't breathe as his eyes look you up and down. “Sweet.” He finishes and you flush.

“Oh, um,” you try to think of something flirtatious or even just coherent to say but nothing comes and you just stare at him with wide eyes and way too much hope.

“Between the compliments and praise you shower me in while i sit in your chair, and the eye fucking you send my way on set-”

“What! No, I-”

“I think I owe you something in return, think of it like a reward for good behavior.”

Is this really happening?

He steps closer, his body almost touching yours. He smells like cigarettes and the ocean and you can feel the warmth of his body heat, feel his breath tickle your skin, feel his eyes watching you. The hair on your arms stands on end, electricity sparking along your skin, your lips burn with the desire to kiss him.

“Please, Y/N, let me show you how much I appreciate your attention.” He practically purrs and you squeeze your thighs together, feeling your blood pulse between your legs.

You find yourself nodding and he smiles, not the goofy grin he gives his bandmates but something dripping with charm and desire, his hazel eyes are dark and you feel like you could fall right into them. He closes the distance between you, his hands take your hips and pulls you against his own, his lips touching yours just enough to know the feeling. He pauses for a moment, perhaps giving you a chance to change your mind, before he finally kisses you. His lips are soft against yours, moving with yours in a way that almost feels sweet, gentle. One of his hands moves from your hip and under your shirt, settling on your back and pushing you firmly against him. Your skin feels hot where he's touching you, painfully aware of how his hands on your bare skin leaves your entire body burning with need.

He deepens the kiss then, his tongue pushing between your lips and you gasp. His tongue temps yours into playing, teasing each other, and you can't help the quiet moans you let out. You feel his hand in your hair, twisting around the roots, before he suddenly pulls your head to the side. It stings just a little and the pain only mixes with pleasure as he starts kissing your jaw and then down your neck. You feel him nip at your skin, playful, teasing bites, before covering them with open mouthed kisses. You whimper and try to push your hips into his, moaning when you feel his hard he's getting for you.

He stops the attention he was giving to your pulse point to speak, his breath hot on your neck.

“You sound beautiful when you moan for me.” And you whimper as he returns to lavishing your neck.

His words shoot straight to your core and you can't help but grind against him, only feeling yourself get wetter when you feel him groan against your skin. He pulls back just long enough to help you out of your clothes, and it feels unfair that he is still fully clothed but he doesn't let you take off his, instead guiding you to sit in the same makeup chair he was in this morning.

“You're really beautiful.” He says it softly, his eyes and fingers exploring your curves; your lips, down your neck, your waist and hips and your thighs. He guides one of your legs up, your heel on the chair, exposing yourself to him. He hums, bites at his lip, before leaning in. He has one hand on the chair by your head, his lips barely a breath away from yours.

“Don't be nervous,” his lips touch yours as he talks and you try to breathe but you can feel his other hand on your thigh, teasing you, so close to where you need him. “I'm going to make you feel as good as you make me feel.” Your breath catches.

He kisses you just as his fingers slide through your folds and you whimper into his mouth.

“So wet for me.” He purrs.

His fingers slide back and forth a few times, coating themselves in your juices, before he slips them inside you. It's just two but you feel them stretch you, feel him push them in all the way. He pulls his head back just enough to look into your eyes and you can't seem to look away, locked in his dark gaze. He pumps his fingers slowly before curling them inside you, his finger tips brushing your walls.

You try to keep eye contact as he continues to fuck you with his fingers but when he starts picking up the pace and pressing more firmly against that sensitve spot you can't help how your head falls back, and you certainly can't help the moans that follow. You writhe as you feel his fingers sliding in and out of you, the sounds of how wet you are filling the room. You can feel the pressure building, his fingers pushing along your walls as they move in and out. He presses his thumb against your clit as slides his fingers back in and you cry out.

You can feel him hovering above you, his body heat just inches from your bare skin, his lips and teeth nipping and tracing along your jaw and neck. Your mind is empty save for the pleasure building up in your body, becoming almost unbearable as Gerard pulls you closer and closer to the edge. You can feel how wet you are, dripping from your core and feeling slick on your thighs and your ass.

“You're being such a good girl for me,” Gerard's voice breaks through the haze and you tilt your head to find his mouth, crashing your lips together.

You can feel yourself getting closer and you can't help how loud you're getting, moaning and gasping into his mouth, begging him not to stop. It becomes too much and you squirm beneath him, your head falling back but only for a moment. Gerard grabs your jaw and gently brings your focus back to his face, his eyes dark and and his lips red and bitten from your kisses.

“Don't look away from me, I want to see you.” He keeps his eyes on yours and you feel your face burn but you can't stop, squirming and begging and moaning, but he keeps you looking at him. “I want to see you cum for me.” His voice is dripping with lust and this possessiveness that drives you mad.

You try to keep looking at him but it's too much, you can't move your head but your eyes screw shut as your hands dig into the armrests of the chair and your hips try to rise up and get more of Gerard's fingers. You feel him continue to tease your clit and crook his fingers inside you as you cum around him, pleading him not to stop as the pressure burns white across your mind. He kisses you as you come down, slipping his fingers from your dripping heat. You open your eyes slowly and Gerard is smiling at you, his eyes are sparkling and you fail to form words, mind still catching up with reality.

“You're absolutely, fucking, gorgeous.” His smile is lopsided as he looks you over and steps back. “I'll see you back on set, and hopefully you give me another reason to thank you.”

You watch as he starts heading to the door to the trailer. He looks back at you, slides his fingers into his mouth and winks at you before letting the door fall closed behind him. You think you almost pass out, still trying to catch your breath as you stare at the now empty space in front of you.

You're not sure you could ever stop gushing over him now, even if you wanted to.

[hellofanimagination]

WHAT THE FUCK

[hellofanimagination]

Hey I’ve been checking ur account semi-regularly for the past few months and I’m so happy to see you’re back (even if it’s temporarily) and that you’re doing better. Seriously the comeback of the century. You’re an amazing writer and I’m so glad to see you’re doing well again.

Come back of the century? Really? 🖤🖤 you're too kind anon

This is really sweet tho really, thank you 🖤🖤🥰 ily

[hellofanimagination]

Cupid's Chokehold

prompt: requested by anonymous “ Hey do you think maybe you could do a fanfiction where reader is Gerards daughter anf shes like 16 and he catches her making out and getting kinda steamy with her boyfriend lol weird request”

Word count: 821

Pairing: reader x boyfriend insert, parent!gerard

A/N: we love a good dose of dad!gee

--

You're home alone, finally, your dad having gone to get dinner with your uncles Mikey, Ray, and Frank. He's usually gone for hours when meeting up with them, they could spend all night talking about anything and everything. Which gives you plenty of time alone with your boyfriend, a rare occurrence as a 16 year old. You made pasta for dinner and then cuddled up for a scary movie.

You snuggle into his warm body, your hands moving under his shirt to touch his soft skin. He looks down at you, a soft smile on his face. You lean up, kiss him sweetly. Your lips move together, your hands moving across his sides and stomach before stopping at the top of pants, unsure, hesitant. You've gone further than kissing before but never all the way, you're both pretty new to dating and intimacy but you want him, you trust him and want to take the next step.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue pushing into your mouth and you revel at the taste of him. You feel silly saying you're making out, sounds like a cheesy movie, but it's also what you're doing. He takes your hips in his hands and urges you into his lap and you go willingly. You move your hips slowly against his, feeling nervous, and you can feel him start to harden beneath you. You moan into his mouth and move to pull off his shirt when you hear the front door.

“Fuck!” You start to pull away, your boyfriend taking a lot longer to realize what's happening. You slide off of him just as your dad steps into the room and your boyfriend is blushing harder than you've ever seen him as he pulls the blanket back into his lap. Gerard gives you a look, glancing between you both, and then he raises an eyebrow and clears his throat.

“Hey dad.” You try for casual but you know you sound like you're hiding something, you never were very good at lying to him.

“Hey sweetheart,” he smiles at you but still seems suspicious. “I didn't know you'd have Y/B/N over, you know you need to at least let me know.”

“I'm sorry Mr. Way!” Your boyfriend rushes out and you start to apologize too.

“It's ok, I'm always happy to see you.” Your dad laughs and you smile, happy for his approval. “But it's pretty late, I'm sure your parents are expecting you back home.”

“Of course, right, I'll just…” your boyfriend seems nervous and stumbles to his feet. He gathers his things and kisses your cheek at the door before heading out to his car. You watch his headlights disappear before closing the door and returning to the living room. Your dad is sitting on the couch now, the blanket having been thrown into a nearby chair. He's turned your movie off and is watching you, perhaps hoping you'll explain yourself.

“Do we need to talk about this?” Gerard asks and you duck your head, trying to hide your red face.

“We weren't doing anything.” You try but he laughs.

“You looked more guilty then that Halloween i found you behind the couch with the entire bowl of candy!” You try not to laugh, you were only 6 at the time but you remember the night well.

Gerard sighs and pats the couch beside him, waiting till you sit beside him. He's wearing a dark hoodie and he smells familiar, like dad. You feel safe, comfortable, even with the most uncomfortable topic on the table.

“I just want to make sure you're being safe.”

“We weren't doing anything, dad, I promise!” You insist and he gives you a look and you shrink into the couch.

“Sweetheart, you can talk to me about anything. If you have questions or if you don't feel safe.”

You know he's not trying to embarrass you, he's just being a parent. Making sure you're safe, that you're not being stupid, and that your boyfriend is being respectful. You know you're lucky your dad cares so much, but you can't help wanting to go hide in your room right now.

“I'm safe dad, don't worry, I did pay attention in sex ed.” You roll your eyes, try to pretend this isn't embarrassing to say.

“I'm glad, but if you do need anything I'm here for you.” He smiles and you smile back at him, despite your mortification.

“Thanks dad.” You lean in and wrap your arms around his neck and he hugs you back, gives you a tight squeeze before letting you go.

“Now head up to bed, you've got school tomorrow.”

You start to head out, ready to sink into your plush bed and listen to the playlist your boyfriend made you. Your dad shouts your name when you reach the stairs and you look back at him.

“I love you sweetheart.”

“I love you too, dad”

[hellofanimagination]

Since I've Been Loving You

prompt: requested by anonymous “ hey! do you still write imagines for spn? if so, could you do one kind of rough smut with dean? idk about the plot exactly, do whatever you want, lol. thank you!”

Word count: 1,507

Pairing: Dean x Reader

A/N: one smutty hurt/comfort fic for anon

--

You were working a case, witches in Denver. At least people turned up dead in 2 weeks and it didn't take long to find out why, but things got messy and violent really quick. You confronted the witches but they knew who you were and why you were there, you weren't prepared for that. They got the drop on you and it felt like amature hour, embarrassing for an experienced hunter like you. But you got slammed into a wall and then a table, and you hit your head way too hard, knocked out cold. Then everything goes dark and foggy, and you wake up in the hotel room with Dean sitting beside you. he filled you in, they stopped them and Dean brought you here to recover. Your head is pounding and your body feels, well it feels like you got slammed into a wall.

You sit up slowly and Dean has a hand on your back, supporting you. You glance at him and catch his worried green eyes, that fear he tries to hide. You note that Sam isn’t there, probably out cleaning up the mess and the bodies, or whatever happened. There are usually bodies.

“Had me worried for a second,” Dean chuckles, trying to hide that fear again, hand still on your back, warm. You look at him, smile, and his eyes crinkle when he smiles back.

“Thought you lost me again?” You tease but you see that it hit hard, that maybe he did think he lost you. “Dean…” You reach out and cup his jaw, eyes soft as you look at him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You promise and he kisses you, something urgent on his lips, and you slide your hand into his hair, pulling him closer. He kisses you deeply, need obvious and desperate; fear and lust.

He pulls you close, into his lap, lips still on yours. The pain fades, everything narrowing down to his lips on yours, his hands on your back twisting in your shirt. He’s desperate, needy, licking into your mouth, his hands find their way in your shirt, warm on your back. You pull his bottom lip between your teeth, biting hard and hearing him whine low in his throat, his fingers digging into your skin and pulling you closer. You lick at his lip, feeling the fading mark of where you bit and he shivers.

His blunt nails suddenly scratch down your back and you arch and moan softly. Dean gives you that look, that obnoxious cocky smirk, you'd be annoyed if he didn't look so hot.

“And here I thought you didn’t want me to get hurt,” You tease and he just keeps looking at you like he won the goddamn lottery.

“No one's ever gonna hurt you,” He says, truly making you believe it, before he smirks, “but me.”

“But you,” you agree and he kisses you again.

Dean pulls your shirt over your head, looking at your lustfully before he dips down and takes your nipple between his plump lips. You run fingers through his hair as he licks your nipple to attention and then you gasp as he bites and pulls it between his teeth, pain and pleasure sparking under your skin. His hands feel big on your waist, rough from hunting and a stark contrast to his soft lips on our chest.

Your mind is cloudy as Dean continues biting and licking at your breasts, his nails scratching at your skin. You grip his hair and pull and he exhales shakily as he looks at you, lips wet and eyes dark. You press your lips to his urgently, deep and biting, and he responds instantly and just as desperate. You stand from his lap and start to unbutton your jeans, sliding them down your legs and smiling at Dean’s slack jawed look. You roll your eyes and drop to your knees, undoing his jeans for him and loving his sharp intake of breathing as his cock is no longer confined by denim. You climb back into his lap and his cock brushes against your wet folds, he shivers and takes a hold of your waist, both of you in no mood to build the anticipation anymore.

Dean controls your movements with his grip on your waist and he guides till you feel him poking at your entrance. You begin to slide down, feeling him stretch you open, sliding further and further till he's deep inside you. You moan as you slide down, watching his eyes roll back as he groans, deep and sexy. He sets the pace, doesn’t let you go slow, guiding up and down on his cock while he bucks up into you. His lips attach to your neck, biting and sucking until you’re sure there will be marks and you can’t stay still, squirming in his lap and feeling him inside of you, doing your best to keep a rhythm as you ride him and his hips rise to meet yours.

Your neck stings from where he left bites and hickeys, your back stings from his nails, and you no longer feel the pain in your head from the hunt. He stills you with his hands and kisses you, tongue pushing into your mouth and you whine, pleasure engulfing your mind and body. He lifts you up just enough that he can slide out and then buck back up into you.

“Don't move baby, let me fuck you.” He sounds wrecked, breathless and needy and you nod and nod and he holds your hips tight enough to feel his fingers dig into your skin.

You throw your head back, feeling him deep inside you, he always gets so deep when you're on top. He pulls your body into him, his lips attaching to your chest again. He sucks hard on your breast, surely giving you another hickey, and you whimper. He moves to your nipple again, flicking his tongue over the hardened peak over and over and it drives you mad. You try to keep holding still, feeling him slide in and out of you, deep and hard. He moans against your skin, rhythm getting harder with each thrust.

“Oh fuck baby,” he groans and your hips buck, making him dig his fingers in harder. He's fucking you so deep and so good, you can hear how wet you are each time your bodies come together.

“Dean, please,” you beg, barely coherent through the fog of pleasure.

“I know baby, I got you.” He whispers, moving his lips to yours and you feel one of his hands move off your hip and between your bodies. He touches you gently at first, fingers teasing, until he finds your clit and pushes a little firmer. You gasp and moan, feeling the pressure build higher and higher with each stroke of his cock and flick of his finger.

He knows just how to get you there, many many nights of practice between you two. He's looking at you with dark eyes, entranced by your pleasure and the way you moan for him. He keeps pushing into you and you can feel every inch of him, hard and pushing against your walls and you can't think, can't breathe. His finger is moving in just the right spot and you're so close and he knows it.

“Come on baby, cum for me.” He says it so sweetly but his voice is dripping with lust and he's gorgeous, green eyes locked on you like you're the only thing he ever wants to see in this world. You think he loves you, you think you love him.

“Dean-!” You cry out, desperately begging him not to stop as you cum around him. The pleasure is almost too much as he fucks you through your orgasm, unaware of anything but him inside you and his lips on yours, swallowing your cries. You finally collapse against him and he holds you against him, skin to skin, everything feeling electric.

He continues to fuck you, you're sensitive, pleasure bordering on the edge of too much. You bite his neck and nuzzle him, kiss him wet and possessive. He groans and turns to capture your lips again, you feel his hips stutter and he moans loud into your kiss before he stills. You kiss him again and again and he tries to catch his breath between each one. His hold on you softens, gentle as he holds you close and runs his fingers along your naked back.

Everything slows and quiets and it could be just you and him in this hotel room and you'd never know. The rest of the world could disappear and you wouldn't care. You feel safe, cared for, in the arms of the one person you'd give everything to never lose. He kisses you soft, nuzzles his nose against your skin and down by your jawline, breathing you in. And you think, he'd do anything to keep you too.

[hellofanimagination]

Hold Me Tight, Or Don’t

Prompt: Requested by @lindseyannway “hey I have a grade A request can you write anything geetrick you've got me invested into this ship haha!”

Word Count: 3,345

Pairing: Gerard x Patrick

A/N: Here I am in the year of 2025 to remind you that Geetrick was a thing

--

The teacher is droning on about algebra and Patrick is trying to listen, really he is, but his mind is somewhere else. He keeps looking over at Gerard, the edgy boy two seats over that barely looks up from his journal. It's a black spiral notebook with red sharpie on the front, Patrick has seen it everyday for months now, and each page is covered in sketches and words in mixes of black ink and pencil. Patrick has become obsessed with knowing what Gerard is writing and drawing but he can’t make it out from his seat without making it obvious that he’s trying to see. If it was Pete or Andy or Joe then Patrick would just snatch the notebook after class and flip through, unbothered by their protests; but this is Gerard, who Patrick has barely spoken 2 words to this entire school year and probably doesn’t know that Patrick even exists. 

Patrick sighs to himself, lost in the way the sun hits Gerard’s dark hair and makes it shine. He looks beautiful, dark hair falls over his face and shoulders, his lips are bitten and pale, some acne decorates his cheekbone and into his hairline. Somehow he even makes the school uniform look cool, and not because rips it up or changes it like Pete and Frank Iero, he just seems so naturally cool. Patrick thinks about himself, his ginger hair that never sits the way he wants it too, the trucker hats and sweater vests, and his glasses that Pete insists suit him but he isn’t so sure; Gerard would never think he’s cool. The bell rings then and Gerard is up and out before Patrick can even think of trying to talk to him.

The halls are loud and crowded, Patrick weaves between other students as he makes his way to his locker. He sees Pete and Andy already waiting for him and he smiles as Pete calls his name. Pete is also naturally cool, but not in a brooding artist way like Gerard, he’s just extraverted and loud and always true to himself in a way that Patrick always struggled to mimic. Pete knows who he is, knows what he wants, and is never afraid of what others might think of him, he just exists, Patrick has always been jealous of his seemingly lack of anxiety and his casual charm. But Pete always insists that Patrick shouldn’t be jealous of anyone, that he’s the coolest guy he knows. Pete talks a lot of shit.

“How was gym?” Patrick asks as he opens up his locker and dumps in his math textbook and crumpled homework he forgot to turn in. His locker is a mess of books and crumbled pages, polaroids of his friends stuck to the inside of the door. Pete drew a dick on the door in sharpie, hairy balls and all, and Patrick snickers every time he sees it. Hopefully he doesn’t get in trouble come the end of the year. 

Andy is texting, his sidekick is a reddish color similar to his hair. His nails have a chipped orange polish on them and he’s bitten them too short. He shrugs, his hair is frizzy and he looks tired, or maybe just bored. Andy always seems to be texting somebody, he’s got a list of friends that Patrick has never met and knows nothing about. Patrick always thought Andy looked like the kinda guy who has skateboards on the wall of his bedroom and a massive stack of CDs spilled out on the floor, but despite knowing him since elementary school he has never actually been to his house and he’s never seen Andy with a skateboard. His jeans have holes in the knees and are frayed on the bottom where they drag on the floor, Patrick could never pull that off, he also feels way too nervous about breaking the dress code. Andy gets carded most days for not wearing the uniform, he ruined it in the wash at the beginning of the year and his folks didn’t want to shell out the money for a new one, endless after school detention seemed a smaller price to pay.

“We played dodge ball but the ball popped on Frank’s eyebrow spike.” Pete laughs and you can see a red rubber ball flying through the air where Frank Iero tries to headbutt it only to end up getting hit in the face and stabbing the ball with that obnoxiously sharp stud he wears on his face. Patrick isn’t one for piercings but he does wonder how Gerard would look with a hoop on his bottom lip. Cute, hot, gotta stop thinking about Gerard Way.

“Wanna go to the record store after school?” Pete asks Patrick, “I wanna look for that record Joe was talking about last night.” Patrick can’t remember the name of the band, let alone the album, but Joe seemed obsessed.

“Where is Joe?” Patrick looks around as if he somehow missed the tallest one of the group. 

“He skipped, wanted to try and beat Doom again.” Andy tells him, finally slipping his phone into his pocket. Patrick left his phone at home, knowing that Pete blows it up all day and kills the battery anyway. He just sends every thought in his head, like their text chain is just his personal diary. 

“He’ll never finish that game.” Pete laughs. “Lunch outside?” and they follow each other out to the tables in the back of the school.

It's not warm outside, clouds covering the blue sky, but it isn’t freezing. The table is wet from this morning but they sit down anyway, Patrick and Andy like normal people and Pete with his ass on the table and his feet on the seat between the other two. Patrick is eating a peach yogurt when he notices Gerard and Frank down by the fence at the end of school property. Frank has added pins all over his school jacket and ripped holes in the knees of his black pants. He’s wearing these fingerless gloves with skeleton hands on them, and is that eyeliner? The two are sharing a cigarette, passing it back and forth as they talk and laugh. Patrick can’t make out what they are saying, they are too far away and the kids playing tackle football on the field are way too loud to hear over. But Patrick watches them nevertheless, watches Gerard brush his hair away from his face as he blows out smoke. He laughs at something Frank says and Patrick wishes he could make him laugh like that. Another guy joins them after a few minutes and Patrick recognizes him as Mikey, Gerard’s brother and Pete’s friend of the last few months. 

Mikey and Gerard are similar, they keep to themselves, aren’t the most talkative brothers, and get in trouble for wearing earbuds during class. Pete met Mikey in detention and then went on and on to Patrick about how ‘fucking cool’ he is. Pete must notice Mikey just then because he says ‘fuck ya’ and hops off the table. Pete is actually wearing the uniform today but without the jacket, despite the weather. Patrick watches Pete walk away and then join the others, Mikey grinning at the sight of him. He says something and Pete laughs and Frank says something and Patrick wishes he was brave enough to join them. He watches them talk for a while before Andy draws him into a discussion on the Ramones and whether or not that local band they saw last weekend was inspired by them. 

Andy is deep in a theory about David Bowie and his most recent album, Patrick listening with rapt attention, when suddenly the group by the fence is taking over their table and Frank’s giggling and Pete’s hysterical laughter is filling the air around them. Pete sits across from Patrick, who scoots closer to Andy, with Frank on one side and Mikey on the other. Which leaves Gerard to sit right next to Patrick, who suddenly can’t breathe. 

Oh fuckfuckfuckfuck

“Hi,” is all Patrick can manage to say, looking at Gerard with what he imagines is an adoring expression and bright red cheeks. He can feel his face burning, spreading down his neck, as Gerard smiles at him. His smile is a little crooked, and Patrick notices the green in his eyes and the red eyeshadow smudged around his bottom lashes. It looks old, maybe from this weekend and he never washed it off, or maybe that's on purpose? 

“Patrick, right?” HOLY SHIT GERARD WAY KNOWS HIS NAME??

Patrick’s brain short circuits and he nods dumbly as Gerard looks amused at him, does he have a stupid look on his face? Is it incredibly obvious that he has a massive crush on him? Maybe it says “I LIKE YOU’ across his forehead in sharpie and he never noticed.

He’s close enough that Patrick can smell the cigarette smoke on his clothes and the shampoo or maybe cologne that wafts from his hair, it’s spicey, maybe cinnamon? Patrick wants to lean in and figure it out but stops himself, shifts awkwardly in his seat and wonders how much teasing is in store for him from Pete. But Pete isn’t paying any attention to him, instead leaning into Mikey’s space as they both hunch over a comic book on the table. They are whispering to themselves, engrossed completely in whatever superhero fills the pages. Pete was never really into comics until he met Mikey, and now it's like he can never shut up about them, suddenly able to tell you the entire history of Captain America, and Patrick suspects he’s just reiterating what Mikey has told him. 

Patricks glances down and sees Gerard’s bag on the floor between them, the black notebook poking out the top. He could grab it if he wanted to, it's right there, the inner workings of Gerard’s brain within reach. He thinks about it, wonders if Gerard would let him, if he would welcome Patrick into his world without question. Probably not. He looks back up and finds Gerard looking at him, but he looks away as soon as Patrick catches him. What was that? He sees color rise up Gerard’s face and Frank gives him a look like he wants to start laughing but he doesn’t.

“Shut up.” Gerard hisses at Frank and the two seem to have silent conversation that leaves Patrick hopelessly left out. 

They talk music and comics until the bell rings and they all begrudgingly head back towards their classes. Patrick thinks about Gerard all day, thinks about the blushing, the look, the way Frank teased him, the notebook, it all haunts his thoughts. 

--

After school Patrick is waiting out front for Pete when said friend comes crashing into him, arm around his shoulders and sloppy kiss to the side of his face. 

“Ew!” Patrick grimaces, wiping the slobber from his face and shoving Pete off of him. “I hate you.”

“You love me!” Pete is grinning wide, the only person with more energy after school, bouncing off the walls like he downed 3 red bulls. Maybe he did, Andy keeps some in his locker and Pete is a thief. 

It looks like it's gonna rain, dark clouds gathered overhead and chill sweeping through the trees and ruffling Patrick’s hair. The front of the school and parking lot are quickly filling with students, voices chattering, music coming from cars pulling out and booming laughter as kids shove each other and call after their friends. Pete isn’t alone, the way brothers and Frank appear behind him and Patrick suddenly feels nervous.

“Oh, hi.” He greets them and Gerard smiles. Oh shoot he feels his face get warm again, this is just embarrassing. “Where’s Andy?” He turns back to Pete.

“He’s going to the mall with that guy, uh…” He trails off, snapping his fingers and looking to Patrick like he would possibly know which random guy he could be referring to. “You know!”

“No?”

“The guy who’s really into screamo? The one with the tongue ring?” Patrick recalls a vague memory of meeting a guy at Andy’s last birthday party who had pierced his own tongue and looked like Cousin It from the Addam’s Family.

“Oh right.”

“So,” Gerard cuts in. “My van is this way.” He gestures vaguely towards the student parking lot and Patrick feels his heart skip a beat. 

Patrick looks to Pete nervously and he grins big and wide. 

“We’re getting a ride with Gee.” Pete explains and motions for Patrick to come with, who follows almost automatically. This feels like a bad idea, his heart hammering in his chest, palms getting sweaty and he’s sure he’s blushing like an idiot. But he follows, listening to Pete babble about his writing assignment and this poet his teacher insisted he read, all the while watching Gerard walking in front of them. He walks between Mikey and Frank, the latter bumping into him repeatedly as they walk until Gerard shoves him, both of them laughing as Frank comes back in. His laugh is cute, it fills Patrick’s ears like a song and he once again wishes he could make him laugh but he’s always too nervous around him. 

It turns out the van is his mom’s mini van, a grey rounded looking thing with sliding doors and crumbs in the seats. Patrick briefly thinks that it’s very similar to the one Joe always drives around in. Gerard gets behind the wheel with Frank upfront and the rest of the guys in the middle, with Patrick behind the passenger seat. He can see Gerard’s profile from this angle, his cute nose, the slight waves in his hair, his hands gripping the wheel as he gets them out on the road. Frank is pulling CDs from the glove box, debating with Gerard about which one to play, they land on The Smashing Pumpkins, and Frank starts singing along obnoxiously loud. Pete of course joins in, head banging in the middle seat, his dyed black hair flopping in and out of his face. Patrick feels like such a stalker, just watching Gerard drive, he looks so casual, one hand on the top of the wheel and the other hanging out the window. He’s lightly banging his head to the music and then flips off someone in the car next to them. Patrick can’t help but think how hot he looks, he’d take a picture if he thought no one would notice. 

The car ride is loud and Frank keeps turning around in his seat to talk to Pete and Mikey, Patrick isn’t sure he actually has a seat belt on. He feels anxiety settle in his stomach at the thought, but bites his tongue. Pete keeps turning every song into those rough, screamo vocals he’s been practicing and it drives Frank nuts. They end up at Pete’s place since his parents are always out of town. They pile out of the car, backpacks on shoulders and laughing too loudly. He parked too far form the curb but better then Patrick could manage, still not having managed to get his license. 

Pete’s place is a bit of a mess, having been on his own for almost a week now. Pizza boxes litter the kitchen, books and magazines are tossed around on all surfaces and his record collection has been turned out on the living room floor like he was showing it off to someone. Maybe that girl he’s been trying to impress, what’s her name? Ashley? Patrick can never seem to remember. He doubts she was impressed anyway, probably more interested in the pool out back. Soon there is music playing and Pete and Frank and Mikey are talking loudly in the kitchen, Pete’s laughter carrying to the livingroom where Patrick is sitting on the floor beside Gerard. 

He picked him, picked the livingroom and homework and awkward Patrick over the guys probably having a lot more fun in the other room. He feels like the luckiest guy in the world. He glances over at Gerard who is looking down at the homework that Patrick has been working on. It's just science, and Patrick keeps getting stuck on every other question.

“Pete says you like to play drums?” Gerard suddenly says, looking up from the worksheet and locking eyes with Patrick. Oh fuck he’s gorgeous. His eyelashes are really dark against his pale skin, his eyes a pool of brown and gold and green. 

“Uh, um, ya!” Patrick stumbles over his words. “I play a few instruments actually.” He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly feeling shy about his talents. 

“Oh, awesome, we should play together sometime.” Gerard smiles, and it's crooked and it gives Patrick butterflies. “Here,” he moves to pull out his black notebook and puts it between them, quickly flipping through the pages, looking for something. Patrick is taking in the information and notes that it’s a lot of lyrics and ideas for what looks like a concept album, he even has entire pieces of musical scores written out. Sketches of characters and outfits and set designs.

“Oh wow,” Patrick breathes, incredibly impressed with the creativity Gerard possesses. He flips the page and then another and then, as Gerard tries to stop him, he flips another and this isn’t music. It’s him.

Its doodles of him with his goofy trucker hats and his pencil in his mouth and are those his hands? His shoes with the laces not done up and one with his hands shoved in his pockets trying to disappear into the lockers. He looks at them all with wide eyes, he wasn’t the only one looking all this time. He swallows hard and then looks at Gerard, who has gone red and is worrying his lip between his teeth, Patrick’s eyes get locked there for a moment too long.

“You’re really good.” He tries, because it’s true, he has a unique style and a natural talent that most kids their age would kill for. 

“Thanks, thanks…” He goes to pull the notebook away and Patrick stops him, covering Gerard’s hand with his own. Gerard looks up at him and Patrick decides to be brave, for once in his life to battle his anxiety and shoot his shot. Because fuck, he has been drawing him this whole time!

“I like to look at you too.” It's the best he can do and he looks into Gerard’s eyes hoping he understands what he’s trying to say. His cheeks heat up and Gerard’s face is a little red and then he breaks into a smile and he laughs and Patrick laughs too and he can’t stop looking at him. Gerard moves in quickly, capturing Patrick in a kiss that stills him and he thinks his heart stops beating. 

He keeps his hand over Gerard’s but moves his other one to his arm to steady himself and he feels Gerard touching his thigh. Oh wow. His lips move against Gerard’s, unsure and shy and a little desperate. Fireworks go off in his mind, a big banner that says “Finally!!!” unravels and he cheers silently. Is this real life? He smells like cinnamon and honestly he tastes a bit like cigarettes and Patrick has never been happier in his entire life. He pulls back and Gerard looks surprised and is that adoration? Is that the same look Patrick has been casting at Gerard’s back for who knows how long? He looks to the kitchen but the guys aren’t paying them any attention and Gerard is drawing absently on his leg. He looks back and they both smile at each other.

“I really like you, Gee.” Patrick says quietly, his cheeks burning, but he forces himself to keep looking at Gerard.

“I like you too.”

Fuck, fuck! Really?? FUCKKk! Patrick can’t keep himself from smiling and he laughs in disbelief. 

“Does this mean you’ll be my boyfriend?” He asks, feeling like he might puke from nervousness. Gerard is nodding before he answers.

“I’d like that.”

[hellofanimagination]

What a Time to be Alive

prompt: requested by @alliwantforchristmasisdeath “ so uh, im wondering if i could get a mikey x reader? you're in a band and a bassist as well and you meet bc of mcr and the band are touring together, the romance starts coming in, and something really bad happens before you get together, like the reader gets kidnapped? i dont know, i just really like the concept, thanks for accepting the request! :D”

Word Count: 3,410 (got a little carried away...)

Pairing: Mikey x Reader

A/N: I wasn’t sure how to end this one but uh ya here you go! Also not sure if this an active url (is that what we call blog names? idk) sorry its so late lmao

TW for getting hit by a car ?

--

Music, music has always been your one great love. Everyone talks of soulmates and their other half and you always scoffed, music was all you needed, it was the soulmate no one else could understand. And your bass? Oh she makes you weak in the knees, the strings against your fingers, the body pressed against yours as you create things others could only imagine. You never really cared about much else, you had your friends, your music, and a dream of making it big, that’s all you ever needed.

Until you met Mikey Way, and oh god did you need him. Suddenly you understood the “butterflies” everyone else talked about, understood the desire for someone else that went beyond anything else. Understood what your other half meant. 

The first time you saw him was an interview with a late show host and you were the second guest along side Mikey. He was stunning, his hair was long and he had these rectangle glasses that he kept adjusting, he was gorgeous in a way that left you breathless. You’ve never seen someone like him before, he was smart too and funny! Fuck fuckfuck! You didn’t expect this, trying to keep up with the interview, trying not to get caught staring but he had your attention in his fist from the getgo and that never changed. 

You’re the opener for their tour, having to see him constantly is literal hell. You feel nervous and stupid constantly, you know you look at him like he hung the moon and the stars and your band mates tease you endlessly about it. It takes a few months of touring before you can manage to control yourself, managing to build a friendship with Mikey and all the guys. 

“What are you thinking about wearing tonight?” Your best friend, and lead guitarist, asks. She looks really cute, already all done up for the show, sitting on the couch in your band’s bus. It’s hot as fuck, the LA heat pounding down on the pavement outside. You glance down at your duffle bag, a mess of black clothes and mismatched socks. You wonder what Mikey would be wearing and then roll your eyes at yourself, you feel like an obsessed high school kid sometimes. 

“Mikey likes you in that purple top.” She gives you this shit eating grin and you glare at her, cheeks burning. You bite your tongue before you can ask how she knows that.

You snatch the black and purple top from the bag before rushing off to get dressed, your friend’s laughter following you to the back of the bus. 

--

You love performing, its the most intense feeling you’ve ever had, the thumbing of your bass, the lyrics echoing around the room, the crowd screaming and jumping like a wave crashing against the stage again and again. You can’t imagine how the guys must feel, this crowd is here for them, the go insane when they come on. You’ve seen it, night after night, waves of black and red coming alive like an electric current as Gerard grabs the microphone. They scream and sing louder then you have ever heard, the fans love them, thats for damn sure. But there are some that exciting to see you play too, and it seems like more and more every night as the tour goes on, more and more of these fans know your name. It such a high, an addicting feeling, having fans scream your name or your lyrics at you, snapping your pictures or recording on their sidekicks.

You glance to the side of the stage and see Mikey watching you, he smiles and offers a little wave. You grin, loving that he watches your set, loves that he watches from your side of the stage. The lights are so hot, sweat dripping down your forehead, hair sticking to your skin, the music flowing through your bones, lyrics screamed into a microphone making your jump. The smile never leaves your face, knowing he’s right there, watching, makes you play harder, better, gives you all the energy you need.

When you come off the stage he’s there and grabs you into a quick hug. You wish he’d hug you forever, you also wish you weren’t sweaty and smelly though and you wonder if he cares. He smiles at you and laughs.

“You guys sounded fucking great!” He tells it to you, always looking at you, but the rest of the band cheers and thanks him. The rest of the guys are nearby, along with the crew, and they give similar sentiments. But all you can see is Mikey. You start heading off to the bus, ready to wash up and change before the guys go on, and Mikey follows you. You walk instep together out the back of the venue and its getting dark now, sun setting, the air has cooled down and you welcome the breeze that hits your skin.

“You know,” Mikey starts and you look over to him, stopping outside the bus. “I really like hanging out with you, touring with you.” He looks down, a little shy, before looking back up at you. Your heart pounds in your chest, why does he have to look so good???

“Me too.” You smile at him and he smiles back. Does time stop when you lock eyes? If months, years, passed in that moment would you have noticed? What would happen if you kissed him right now? Would he kiss back?

A crew member shouts at Mikey from the back door before you can answer that question. He shrugs apologetically and then runs off back to the venue. Even LA feels freezing without Mikey around. You head onto the bus and try not to think about kissing him. 

--

You’re sitting in a diner on the side of some highway on the way to your next city. It’s quiet, some song you don’t recognize playing over the speakers, the sounds of cars going down the high coming from the other side of the windows. You have a big plate of fries in front of you, the perfect kind of greasy and salty fries you dream about when you’re really hungry. You see Gerard scribbling in a journal in another booth, Frank talking his ear off and while shoving a burger in his mouth. You briefly wonder if Gerard ever stops creating, writing and drawing seeming to come as easily to him as breathing does for others. He isn’t the most social, especially on middle of the night dinner stops, but that never seems to stop Frank, who doesn’t even seem to notice that Gerard isn’t responding to him. 

Your band is more or less passed out on the bus, save for your drummer who is standing outside of the MCR bus chain smoking with some of the crew. You can barely make them out in the parking lot, only a few street lights illuminating the area, and the neon sign atop the dinner, making the pavement a red-ish color. You continue eating fries, wondering when the last time you act an actual meal was, its hard to remember on tour, things blur together, time runs on and on. 

Someone slides into your booth then, and you look up to find Mikey, you smile at him. He has a beanie over his hair, probably trying to hide the fact that he hasn’t showered, like the rest of you. You touch your hair, not bad for having just washed it in the sink, unsure when you last saw a real shower. He looks tired, his glasses have little smudges on them and he’s wearing some of their own merch, a few sizes too big. 

“Fries?” You offer and he grabs a few. You feel comfortable sitting with Mikey, even if his gorgeous face makes your stomach twist in knots. YOu’ve gotten used to the way he makes you feel, can carry on a conversation now.

“San Francisco will be a nice break from the heat.” You comment, thankful that suffocating LA heat is behind you. You should be there soon, not too long of a drive between LA and SF, only 7 hours or so. You hit the road as soon as you could, wrapped up the show and packed the bus in record time, but it was already after midnight when the wheels hit the pavement and it wasn't long before complaints of hunger filled the bus. 

Mikey talks about how excited he is to see the beaches and the colorful houses of San Fran, going into the history of the “Painted Ladies” and you listen, knowing you look like a lovesick fool gazing at him. You love listening to him talk, doesn’t matter if it's the most boring topic in the world, Mikey will make it interesting. 

You stay like that awhile, listening to Mikey talk about the ocean and then sea creatures and then DnD and then and then… You munch on fries and listen and think about how he might be your favorite person to talk to. You wind up talking about music, as you almost always do, when Gerard interrupts. He looks exhausted, small in a big black hoodie, bags under his eyes. He says everyone is ready to go and you look around to notice the diner is empty and no one is smoking outside the bus anymore. Oh.

“Right behind you,” You tell him and Gerard give a tired smile before walking back outside. You finish up your fries and get up, walking side by side with Mikey. He always walks beside you you’ve noticed.

“Wish we could just stay up talking.” He tells you this, looking reluctant to part ways and you feel the same, a pull in your chest at the thought of not seeing him for hours. 

“You can come with me.” You offer, tilting your head towards your bus, and he smiles. 

Mikey ends up on your bus as things get moving again, your bus following theirs back onto the highway. Its dark and quiet, the radio drifting back from the front of the bus, you think its Natasha Bedingfield but its hard to hear. You’re sitting on the couch, leaning into Mikey with your feet tucked up underneath yourself. You listen to him talk about the tour, the cities you’ll stop in, the people you’ll meet; the feel the bus moving beneath you, the wheels rolling on the pavement; you listen to his voice, his heart beating, feel his warmth against you, his hand on your waist, and the world slips away into a dream.

--

No one says anything about find you and Mikey asleep on the couch together, no one says anything about how he can’t seem to stay away from you after that, attached at the hip, always laughing and in your own world together. You play shows, explore the venues together, explore the cities when you can, have your own inside jokes and stories and it hits you in Chicago that you’re in love with him. You think he feels the same way, the way he looks at you isn’t innocent, the way he touches you isn’t friendly, you think maybe it’s time to take your shot. You were never one to just let things happen, you chased after music even when it seemed impossible, chased your dreams and your passions no matter the risk, and it worked out pretty well if you ask anyone. But Mikey? That seems like a much bigger risk, what if he rejects you? What if you lose him? You can’t imagine the pain. 

Chicago is beautiful, but the venue seems claustrophobic, your feelings filling up the space and the ‘what ifs’ choking you. You have a few hours before you go on so you leave, saying you need some air and wandering out into the streets of a city you don’t know. Mikey comes with you, of course. You feel nervous around him, walking side by side down the unfamiliar streets, and he’s quiet which only makes you more anxious. Why isn’t he talking? Does he know you can’t stop thinking about him? Did he come along to break it to you gently, secluded so no one has to witness your heartbreak? How kind of him.

“Can we stop for a second?” He asks and grabs your wrist, making you stop walking and face him. It's a busy street, people walking by, cars speeding behind you, music coming from the restaurant behind Mikey. It's not private but at least no one knows you. Mikey is a little too famous to be walking around with you like this but no one seems to notice, maybe the universe is feeling generous this morning. 

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” He starts and your stomach twists into a knot, thinking about how he just wants to be friends? You can’t stop all the worst possible outcomes from coming into focus, pummeling your brain with break ups and break downs and why did you have to go and catch feelings for this boy? Its a dangerous game, love, you were safer when all you needed was music. Music doesn’t reject you in the busy streets of Chicago. You feel panic welling in your chest, you can still stop this, keep things the way they are, you just need to get away! 

“Mikey, I-” You stop him from continuing, taking a step back from him and he drops your wrist you didn’t realize he was still holding. “I don’t think we should talk about this.” The words fall out messy and rushed and you see his face fall. Disappointment? Confusion? You can read him so easily but not right now, panic is blurring your thinking, you just need to get away, stop this from happening, stop the pain. 

“Oh,” disappointment, that's clear now, “I thought…” he trails off, suddenly unsure. You feel unsure now, so unsure what’s happening? You shake your head and step back again, off the sidewalk, further from him.

“I need to-” you make a gesture away from him and he look so confused, hurt? He steps towards you again but you move quickly, rushing across the street without looking, just needing to get away. Everything is moving so fast, its terrifying, you can’t speak, you can’t think, you can’t see where you are going but you keep moving. You just need some space, some air, some-

“y/n!” Mikey cries out but you can’t breathe.

You hear honking, brakes, you look up just in time to see headlights. Oh fuck-

Everything goes black.

--

You wake in a white room, bright lights, you blink, trying to bring everything into focus. Your throat feels tight, dry, like you’ve never had a sip of water in your life, maybe you haven’t. Next  comes the pain, the world pounding into focus as pain rips through you. You think you cry out but then there is a woman and it goes dark again.

You wake in the room again, this time it feels less bright, still white, still unpleasant, but there is no pain. You try to speak but your voice is wrecked from disuse. How long have you been like this? What happened? Suddenly there is a voice and a face, oh hi. You think you smile at your best friend but you feel so tired. She looks exhausted, scared. Why is she scared? You try to sit up but, fuck ouch, ok no staying down.

“Hey,” Her voice seems to pull you into the real world and everything focuses. A hospital, it looks dark outside the windows but the room is bright with fluorescent lights. 

“What happened?” You ask, your voice sounds rough and you try to clear your throat. She offers you a cup of water then, a straw sliding between your lips. You swallow it down greedily, when was the last time you had anything to drink?

“You were hit by a car.” She explains once you finish.

You remember then, Mikey, the panic, the car… Idiot. 

“The tour!” you suddenly remember and she almost laughs.

“Don’t worry about that now, you almost died, the tour so doesn't matter.”

You want to argue but you’re so tired so you nod instead. You look down, white bedsheets, blue hospital gown. You still have all the usual parts, bruises paint your body, scratches and stitches and there is a cast on your left arm. Fuck, there goes the tour. You sigh, running off into the street because Mikey wanted to talk to you feels so stupid and dramatic now. You haven’t been out that long, just a few days, in and out since waking up from surgery. The others stopped by earlier. Mikey hasn’t left the hospital, canceled tour dates to stay by you. You look over the chair by the window and there he is, asleep, looking like he hasn’t left the hospital in days. 

You feel horribly guilty but your friend assures you that it's ok, emergencies happen, it's not your fault and they can always play in Chicago another time, the city isn’t going anywhere. Mikey wakes then stirring slowly and stretching into wakefulness. Once he sees that you are away he jumps up and rushes to your side, looking pale and exhausted and so fucking worried. 

“I need to go eat something,” It’s an excuse but then you’re alone with Mikey. 

“You’re awake.” He sounds relieved and reaches for your hand, holding it between both of his palms. He feels warm and solid and you smile at him, grateful he’s here. 

“I’m sorry i got hit by a car.” You tell him sheepishly, trying to smile but failing. He looks crushed just then, like he might cry, but he doesn’t.

“I’m just glad you’re ok, I was so scared…” You try to imagine the panic and fear he felt in that moment, watching you get hit, unable to stop it, all the chaos that must have followed.

“I’m sorry.” You try again and you voice wobbles. He brings your hand up to his face and kisses your fingers, keeping your hand against his chest.

“Why did you run off like that?”

Do you tell him? All your feelings and fears? You almost died trying to escape them, probably a sign that you can’t run from this. You bite your lip, worry it between your teeth, watch him watch you.

“I was scared,” He looks confused and you continue, “I thought you were gonna tell me you didn’t like where our relationship was going, that I was too obvious about how much I like you, that you didn’t feel the same, that…” You feel your face burning and you sigh, embarrassed. Mikey looks surprised and then laughs. Ouch, laughing at my love? That's harsh. But Mikey must see your reaction because he rushes to say,

“No! No, no, I was going to tell you the opposite!”

Oh.

Oh!

“So you-” you start and he nods and then interrupts you.

“I love you, Y/N” he kisses your hand again and you feel your chest expand, your heart pounding back to life. Fuck, he loves you? Really?

“I love you too.” You smile and he smiles and fuck he really is beautiful isnt’ he? 

Mikey Way loves you! 

You release your hand from his hold and then grab the front of his shirt, pulling his face to yours and kissing him with all the energy you can muster. He kisses you back after a moment, his lips sliding against your and butterflies explode in your chest. Everything you had imagined and more. He cups your face and deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours, teasing and gentle, sparks of want dancing down your spine. He pulls back and rests his forehead against yours.

“Please don’t ever get hurt again.” He asks, voice small. 

“I promise.” You move your other hand into his hair and you feel him relax into your touch. “I’ll never run away from you again.”

You stay that way for awhile, just breathing each other in, letting him feel how alive you are, that you are here and that you’re ok. You feel safe and warm and you wonder how you ever thought you didn’t have another half. He fits with you perfectly, in every way. And you never want to spend another day apart. And something tells you that he feels that same way. 

[hellofanimagination]

Heaven’s Gate

Prompt: Requested by Anonymous “ Yeah after those headcanons i definitely need a high school photography class punk gerard fic holy smokes that's a long description”

Word Count: 1433

Pairing: Gerard x Reader

A/N: it’s been a long time, i have no idea what headcanons this was about tbh but i tried :)

--

Gerard is sitting on the floor of your room, his camera in his hands as he messes with the settings on it. His hazel eyes are transfixed with the screen, fingers pressing the different buttons. It's Saturday, no school, and Gerard asked to come over and use you as a model for his final project. Gerard wouldn’t tell you the theme, but you got dressed and tried to make yourself look nice, put on your favorite shirt and spend too much time fixing your hair. Wondered if he’d noticed, if he’d think you look nice.

You watch his shoulders shift under his leather jacket, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he thinks. You finish tying your shoes and think about kissing him, wonder how it would feel, how he would taste. You see the smudges of eyeliner around his eyes, unsure if he put it on today or it's left over from the day before. He has rings on his fingers, silver, not the cleanest or newest looking things but they suit him. You let your eyes roam over him, familiar with his shape, his style, the details of his face. He’s been your best friend for as long as you can remember but the love that opened in your chest recently doesn’t seem to care about ruining the most important friendship in your life. 

“We can go to that creek behind your house.” Gerard suggests, finally looking up from his camera. He smiles at you and your heart skips a beat.

“Y-ya, sure!”  You agree, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. Does he notice you blushing? Does he notice how you stumble over your words around him? Does he notice that since last summer nothing has been the same?

You walk side by side down to the wooded area behind your house, kicking rocks as you go deeper into the trees. It isn’t dark, it's not a dense forest or anything, you can see the sun between the trees and if you stay really quiet you can hear the cars on the street nearby. It feels secluded though, quiet, you rarely ever see anyone else down here and Gerard and you had spent your childhoods making this place your own. You know which trees are the best to climb, know there is a bird's nest a few minutes away, you know the way through the trees and bushes in the dark. And you know that the water in the creek is freezing cold this time of year. You know the big tree behind you has your and his initials carved into it. 

Gerard stops short of the creek, his black boots flattening the grass on the ground. You feel nervous and you don’t know why, you’ve been down here to take pictures with Gee a million times, this isn’t new. But something is different and you see flashes in your head, his hands on your bare hip, the smell of chlorine in his hair, pool water dripping down his skin. You shake your head, cheeks burning at the memory. Does he ever think of that day? Does he ever…? You swallow hard and try to pretend the smell of his skin isn’t haunting your thoughts.

He explains the theme, something about beauty and nature, but you’re having a hard time listening to him. You watch his mouth move, lust burning in your gut. What is wrong with you? That’s your best friend! Stop ogling him like a piece of meat!

“Sound good?” He asks, looking at you expectantly and you blush harder.

“Ya, sounds good.” You agree, no idea what you’re agreeing to. Could be selling your soul for all you know, for him though? Anytime. 

You let him direct you to different areas and poses. He takes pictures of your doc martens in the grass, flowers flattened underneath. The wind in your hair, the veins in your hands underneath the water, the creek freezing your hands to the bone. He rambles about details of the human body, your details, the way nature is in all of us. You listen to him, his voice soothing and his words sounding smart and intense. He could ramble about his photography all day, and you’ve let him before, always so interested in all the details he can find in a photo, in the world, things you’d never see. 

You’re sitting in the dirt now, a tree overhead and the bark catching on the back of your shirt as you lean against it. Gerard is close, you can see the green in his eyes catch the setting sunlight, see the little bites on his lips where he has bitten through the skin. You see his tongue slide out then, poking between the corner of his lips and your stomach drops. His finger tips brush along your cheek, brushing your hair from your face, and then down your neck. You know you’re looking at him with want in your eyes and he won’t meet your gaze, busying himself with your pose, but you see his cheeks pinken and hope splices through your heart.  

He moves back, taking his warmth with him, and picks up his camera. You normally hate anyone taking photos of your face but you trust Gerard, you’d give him every piece of yourself if he asked, expose your deepest vulnerabilities if he wanted them. He moves near you, never going too far, snapping pictures of your face, but you’re not sure what he’s trying to capture. You think it's the details of your face, the details of the bark behind you, but all you can think about is the way his black jeans hug his thighs and the way his eyes move over your body. 

You see it again, last summer, Pete’s pool party. Screaming and laughing and how did you never notice him like this before? Swim shorts hanging on his hips, skin pale in the sun and he’s wet, dripping, and your mouth dries up. And you think maybe he finally sees you too, his hand on your hip, skin on skin, your eyes on his lips and he’s looking at you with this open, vulnerable, and wanting expression. You think he’s going to kiss you, you hold your breath, and then Frank comes barging into the kitchen and Gerard jumps away from you. The noise of the party comes back in full blast and the moment is gone, he won’t meet your eyes, follows after Frank back to the yard. You can’t breathe and nothing is ever the same.

“You look beautiful when you blush.” He snaps a picture and you almost didn’t hear him but you did and you look up in surprise. 

“Gee,” You start, want to tell him you want him, that you love him, that this feeling won’t go away, but you can’t find the words and silence falls on you again.

He clears his throat, looks shy, “I think I got what I needed.” and your hope vanishes.

“Oh, ok.” You move to get up just as he moves closer to help you and suddenly you’re face to face, an inch apart, the air wooshes out of the space between you. He’s beautiful you think, you think about telling him so but you can’t form words. His eyes flick down to your lips and then back to meet your gaze. So he does think about it too. You reach out, acting instead of thinking, and you link your hand with his free one. He doesn’t pull away and you think your hands fit together nicely.

And then it's like something shoves you both forward, kicks the world back into gear, and your lips crash against his. It’s soft and unsure, his lips sliding against yours. You step closer, your shoes knocking against his, your mouth opening just as his does and your tongues slide against each other’s. He makes a soft sound and you feel it in your gut, somehow wanting to be closer without any space between you already. You think time stretches on forever in that moment, his taste, his smell, all you can think about, time frozen, the rest of the world falling into oblivion until it’s just you and him and this kiss.

And then he pulls back, breathing a little heavier than before, and he smiles at you like he’s just won the biggest prize. You blush and smile, squeezing his hand and remembering this is real.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since the pool party.” He chuckles and you break into a huge grin.

[hellofanimagination]

Tiffany Blews

prompt: requested by anonymous “ Frank and Gerard x Reader Smut where like Frank tops Y/N while Gee gets a blowjob from her”

Word Count: 1,747

Pairing: Gerard x Frank x Reader

A/N: what if, and hear me out, I wrote your request like 6 years later?

---

You’re aware that you’re staring but you can’t seem to stop, gazing at Frank and Gerard like a horny teenager as they work. They’re in the studio, recording Destroya and you can’t seem to keep your mind out of the gutter. Now that you’ve had them both, kissed them, heard them cum, you can't seem to stop thinking about it. You’re watching them sing and your mind is running rampant with thoughts of Frank’s face when he pushes into you, blissful lust and his mouth hanging open like he couldn’t stop his little gasp if he tried. And Gerard when you’re sitting on his lap, grinding into his jean clad erection, watching his eyes spark and his bitten lips let out pathetic, desperate, whines. You catch Frank’s eye and bite your lip, smiling and trying and failing not to let him see how turned on you’ve made yourself. He smirks and you shift in your seat, watching his eyes get dark. 

Frank asks for a break a few minutes later, saying he needs to go get food and a nap before this song kills him.They just can’t seem to nail it and the frustration of it is making it worse, if only they would relax and just play you know they’d get it on the first try.

You see Frank whisper something to Gerard as they leave the studio and then he’s making a beeline for you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you out of the room and down a hall. The studio is empty, it’s nearing 9pm after all, and when they take breaks most of the guys go to the diner down the street. Frank yanks you into a room with a couch and then he’s kissing you, pulling your hips into his. 

“What had you blushing so hard, babygirl?” Frank practically purrs and your skin burns.

“You.” You say simply and he bites at your jaw, grinding you into him and driving you wild. Frank moves fast, you never have much time it seems.

“Tell me,” He says, voice deep and you bite your lip, distracted by his mouth on your skin.

“I was thinking about how you and Gerard look when we fuck,” You’re already breathless.

“Ya?” He wants more and you’re always happy to give him what he wants.

“I was thinking about,” you gasp, he bites your neck hard, “when you push into me and you look so hot and you feel amazing.” your voice is breathless already, struggling to form words instead of just moans.

He hums, pleased, and then he’s pushing his hands up your shirt and you’re arching into his touch. You moan, kissing him again, biting and dirty, his hands pinching and massaging your breasts. The door opens but you don’t pull away, knowing it’s Gerard before he even speaks. 

“Never can wait, can you Frank?” You glance over at where Gerard is closing the door and smiling at you both. 

“Can you blame me?” He asks, now removing your shirt all together, exposing you to them both.

“No, I guess I can’t.” Gerard walks closer, pressing up against you and kissing you hard, hand in your hair and you moan into his mouth. 

“Just couldn’t wait till after the recording was finished?” Gerard breaks the kiss to ask and Frank giggles. You’ve noticed in the years you’ve known them that Frank tends to giggle instead of laughing, it's cute and you smile to yourself at the sound.

“Y/N got herself all hot thinking about us.” Frank informs Gerard, as if this could explain his rush out of the studio. 

“Oh?” Gerard turns hazel eyes to you and you blush deep. “Guess we should give her what she wants.” 

“We have maybe twenty minutes?” Frank guesses but you know it’s closer to 45 because that diner makes the best fries and burgers and the guys will wanna relax and eat for as long as they can get away with. 

It quickly becomes a mess of lips, skin and the shedding of clothes. You can feel the bites on your neck, unsure who made which ones, hands grabbing and touching and the sweetest moans fill the room as the heat builds. Frank is kissing you, bruising and wet, his tongue sliding over yours and his hands gripping at your hips, pulling your naked body against his. You can feel how hard he is, pressing against you, grinding just enough to let you know he’s there. You feel the warmth of Gerard behind you, finger tips sliding over your hips and Frank’s hands, leaving electricity in their wake. You feel his right hand move up to your hair, tilting your head as his lips land on your neck. He covers your skin in open mouthed kisses, wet and hungry. You moan into Frank’s mouth, unsure who to push into but needing more. 

Frank guides you to the couch and away from Gerard, you feel cold without him pressed against you. You move to sit down, Frank following you, his lips refusing to leave yours, guiding you down further till you're laying on your back and he’s kneeling between your legs. You gasp into his mouth again, this time from feeling his length grinding against your heat, sliding hot and wet in the most perfect way. You feel him groan against you, his hips continuing to glide against you, fuck you can feel every inch of him sliding against your pussy and you moan, fingers moving to grip his hair. You hear Gerard then, a breathy moan, and you look to see him next to you, his hand sliding up and down along his erection, eyes dark and possessive. His red hair is sticking to his forehead, he looks beautiful, and you reach out to grab his thigh. You run your hand along his skin, watching how his hand moves and jerks himself off. You feel frank’s lips on your neck, you feel almost dizzy from the heat and the pleasure.

“Fuck,” Gerard breathes, “you both look so hot.” 

Frank is moving away from your neck, mumbling about how he needs to be inside you right now. He’s never been patient but right now you couldn’t agree more, begging him to fuck you. You feel him line up with you and then he’s pushing at your entrance, you gasp and he moans, pushing in slowly and then all at once. He moans, loud and dirty, as he pushes all the way in, buried deep in you and you grip his hair tight, dragging him to kiss you. He tastes sweaty and warm and you moan into his mouth over and over as he starts to fuck you, sliding in and out in slow and deep thrusts. 

You turn your head to look at Gerard, looking beyond turned on. His hand is sliding over his cock, long and pink and your mouth waters watching his head disappear and reappear from his encircled fingers. Your hand pushes on his thigh, urging him closer and then you adjust, line your mouth up with him and he groans, your tongue flicking over his head. You trade his hand with yours and stroke him a few times before taking him into your mouth with a moan. Fuck he tastes good, and the sound he makes when you swallow him down is probably your favorite sound in the world.  Gerard has one hand on the armrest of the couch to steady himself, and the other in your hair, gripping enough that you can feel the pull at the roots. He's already so far gone, moaning and trying not to snap his hips forward. 

You feel Frank’s hand move from your hip, sliding between your bodies to settle on your clit. You gasp around Gerard, eyes rolling back as you feel the pleasure mounting. Frank sliding inside you, his thumb gently teasing your clit, and Gerard heavy on your tongue, it all feels like almost too much and your brain feels empty besides pleasure. The room is hot, your bodies moving together, moans filling the air and you can barely stay still, hips moving with Frank’s, chasing the pleasure he so easily offers. 

“Oh fuck!” Frank tosses his head back, his finger moving faster on your clit now and you moan, vibrations making Gerard’s hips snap and his fingers twist tighter in your hair. “You feel so good…” he sounds far away but also so close, feeling every inch of him moving inside of you.

“Y/n-” Gerard half groans and you know he’s close, moving your head faster now, feeling him slide between your lips. You suck hard on his tip before sliding all the way down and his moans send warmth through your entire body. He comes then, sliding out of your mouth and his cum hits your lips and your cheek and he moans through it, he looks gorgeous, face twisted in pleasure, cheeks red and mouth hanging open. You lick your lips, tasting him there, and he looks at you with open and clear eyes, his hand slides from your hair to your face, gentle and loving. You keep your eyes locked with Gerard’s as Frank continues to fuck you, he’s losing his rhythm now and he’s become impossible to keep quiet, hopefully the studio is empty. You move your eyes to Frank and he kisses you hard, Gerard’s cum smearing on his face and his tongue pushing into your mouth. You moan against each other and “fuck,don’t stop, don’t st-!!” You cry out, orgasm slamming into you suddenly just as Frank bites your lip. You arch off the couch, only aware of the way Frank comes just then, spilling into you as his hips slow and then he crashes onto you. He’s panting, smiling against your neck and you blink into the world.

Gerard has moved to sit on the floor by the couch, he’s looking at you like he’s never seen someone so beautiful before and you smile lazily at him. You feel drained, loved, and warm. Frank cuddles into you, his softening cock now sliding from you and you moan softly. He’s holding you tight, softly kissing your neck. You don’t know how much time has passed and you can’t be bothered to care, feeling Frank breath against you as Gerard gently runs his fingers along your jaw, your lips, and brushes your hair away from your face.

Maybe you can just stay in the moment forever.

[hellofanimagination]

your gee fics really match my freak or whatever kids say nowadays 😒 thank you pookie bear author

Oh gosh idk when this was sent but thank you for appreciating my fics 🖤

[hellofanimagination]

hi !! how are you ? i recently found your acc and i love it sm !! i was wondering since you write for fob what are your thoughts on the american suitehearts mv ?

yk w pete as sandman and patrick and dr. benzedrine ? :))

Hi ! I'm surviving ya know, doing what i can. Hope you're doing ok!

I actually don't write anymore, I haven't posted a fic here since 2019 I think. the blog is mainly inactive unless people send messages or the occasional personal post. I really really appreciate the messages I still get letting me know my writing is still so well loved though, it means so much to me <3

That would be a fun request idea though, those characters would be interesting to write!

[hellofanimagination]

Yeah. I read your tags even though you said we could ignore it.

I’m so sorry you’re feeling so bad. I hope you’re able to get the help you need and deserve. Please take care of yourself, friend x

I'm trying to, with waitlists and everything its just taking awhile. I'm going through a really traumatic life change right now, things are never gonna be the same. Its just gonna take a lot of time to get to a place where i can say I'm ok.

I really appreciate your message tho <3 thank you and I hope you're doing okay and enjoying your spring

[hellofanimagination]

.

[hellofanimagination]

Mcr dropped new music and I'm too depressed to even care 🤙 but i hope you're all having a good emo time and losing your shit

[hellofanimagination]

i read your whole collection of oneshots on ao3 in the span of three days 😭😭

you’re an excellent writer and i thoroughly enjoyed reading your work <3

Thank you so much!! I'm so happy you liked them so much 🥰❤