#frank iero imagines

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

A Few Very Compelling Arguments - Frank Iero x Reader

Summary: You are new in the band and Frank can’t seem to stand you. After getting hurt by him on stage you decide to quit the band, something Frank is not at all happy about. Reader: fem!Reader Warnings: mentions of mental illness, hints at suicide(?), blood, jealousy, Frank is an asshole in the first half Word Count: 7 702 (don’t ask me what happened there, I don’t know either) A/N: I’ve wanted to write some enemies to lovers with Frank since I read this story by @ghoulgirlwrites​ a few weeks back. I hope it’s not too similar. Anyways this story sent me on a total enemies to lovers thing, and now you guys have to live with that. Also I take no criticism for writing Frank this vulnerably. We all know he’s sensible, and I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be afraid to be vulnerable in the presence of the people he loves and trusts.

You weren‘t sure when things had started to change, but you knew you didn’t like it. You had not been in My Chemical Romance for long, a little less than a year. You were a friend of Ray’s, all the way back from his time in college, even though you were several years younger than him. After he had asked you to join the band on tour as their drummer one thing had led to another, and suddenly you had become the fifth member of the band. Then things had been fine, as fine as things could be when you were stuck in a van a majority of the day with a bunch of guys who had yet to discover the concept of taking showers. It was only at the start of this tour, right after the release of Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge that Frank had started to change. He had always been very sweet to you before then, polite, friendly. Sure he was somewhat energetic on stage, but off stage he had been nothing but a sweetheart, something that definitely had gotten more to you than it should have.

It started off slow, the poking, the pranks, the nicknames. You knew he loved sneaking bites of other people’s food, or just put on whatever shirt he found on top of the clean laundry basket, no matter who it belonged to. You would not have minded this at all, if it had not always been your plate he stole fries from, or your favourite band shirt he picked to wear on stage.

That had been the beginning of it all. He had stopped after you had gotten pissed at him for staining your only white shirt with coffee one morning, and almost you had allowed yourself to believed things would calm down again. Sure you were angry that he had ruined your shirt, which he had had no reason for wearing other than being too lazy to search for his own. And that he had bought you a new package of your favourite cookies after having finished the last one without telling you had almost soothed the waves of your grudge against his impulsiveness.

But then he began throwing shit at your drums. At first just empty water bottles, which were really harmless. You even laughed at that, feeling like he was trying to include you more on stage. The roll of gaffer tape he had thrown was not quite as funny, nor was the full water bottle, Mikey’s shoe, and his mic stand; especially because the last one had ruined one of your drums, leaving you to improvise for the rest of the show.

You had been righteously furious after that.

That had been the evening you had realised something between Frank and you had truly changed. When you had talked to him about stealing your food and clothes, he had nodded and apologized for overstepping. That night, he had shrugged you off, saying he’d pay for it and there was no reason to react as upset as you did. This comment got him not only protest from you, but also from Ray, who had had the misfortune of overhearing that conversation.

Since then things had completely gotten out of control.

Frank snapped at you every opportunity he had, watched you like a hawk as if he was waiting for you to make a mistake he could get you for. He did not necessarily insult you. He just made it abundantly clear that he considered you unfit for the job of MCR’s drummer.

You knew they had not meant for you to overhead that snippet of conversation, but one time you had even heard Frank complain to Gerard about you, how you distracted everyone, how you would make it impossible to enjoy this tour for everyone.

You had quickly plucked in your headphones in order to not overhear more than that, but these few words had been enough to drive you towards the brink of a crisis. Wasn’t it bad enough that you had to share the very limited tour bus space with someone who actively seemed to hate you? He also tried to involve others in this strange feud he had started and was scheming against you!

After that incident you did not try to hide your annoyance at him anymore. If he already had to tell Gerard, Gerard might as well see for himself. Maybe that would speed up the inevitable process of them kicking you out of the band. Nobody had brought it up to your face yet, but you were sure Frank had suggested it to the others already. You didn’t want to leave the band, but with the way Frank was treating you, it was not hard to guess that this was his goal, to get you kicked out of the band.

Whatever you had done to make him hate you this much, it was something nobody was willing to talk to you about. Had you said or done something wrong? Was it your behaviour towards your band members? You were sure you had treated them just like any other friends, and of course you were closest to Ray, since you knew him the longest. But even though you were not aware of anything that could have upset Frank this much, especially since the others seemed to have no problem with you whatsoever, you would still have been willing to make up for it. If you only knew what the problem was!

You had tried talking to Frank, who had always brushed you off with a mean comment about you not caring anyway. And if you tried talking to the others, they always said it was not their place to tell you, and you needed to talk to Frank. At your response that you had tried, but he wouldn't tell you anything, they had just shrugged, and told you they couldn’t help you.

And this was how tour had started. For two months Frank and you had done nothing but glaring at each other. He shot hurtful comments your way, and whenever you were too tired or annoyed to hold back, you returned them. The tension this created was undeniable, but to your surprise the others just laughed it off, even having fun watching Frank and you bicker.

The worst thing of all though was probably how much ever single comment from Frank hurt. Not because of the comment itself, but because of him. You had not known him for very long, but you spent enough time together to have gotten to know him quite well. You saw the way he treated his friends, caring, loving, mischievous of course, yes, but never leaving a sliver of doubt that all his actions towards them were laced with nothing but deep, honest love for them.

A part of you hated yourself for loving watching him play music, no matter whether he was writing it, rehearsing or playing shows. At shows he was as energetic as you had never seen anyone in their life before, writhing around on stage, singing, screaming, and still flawlessly playing his guitar. He threw stuff at you occasionally, but this tour it did not seem quite as bad as the previous one.

During rehearsals he was absolutely focused, only rarely loosing himself in the music as much as he did on stage. But your favourite times to watch him were when he was writing music. Most often it was during long bus rides, when Gerard and Mikey would read comics, and you one of the novels off your ‘to be read’-pile. Ray and Frank would grab their guitars, and sit down, playing the same melodies in variations for hours upon hours until they had found something they both were content with. Then you would take glances over the rim of your book, just watching Frank, as he was sitting on one of the sofas, his fingers skipping over the fret board, his eyes closed. He was so focused then, and still half lost in the melody, in the music he and Ray were creating. Those moments were so soft, so intimate. It felt forbidden to watch him then, and still you could not tear your eyes away. You just hoped he would never find out about it.

He, on the other hand, was unashamed whenever he stared at you. It was during meals, when you sat on opposite ends of the table, as many of your friends between you as possible to stop you from getting into another heated argument. He would watch you closely then, his eyes following your every movement, never caring if you were staring back at him challengingly.

It was worse on stage. Moments in which he should have payed attention to Ray or Gerard, he glanced at you, even when there was no need to. Of course there were the few parts of the show where the two of you needed to work together, coordinate with each other, and those were never a problem, because as much as you hated him, you were still professional enough to not let it show. But the moments where he made sure you were looking at him right before doing something stupid-

It drove you up the walls, the constant feeling of his eyes on you, until you would eventually give in and meet his across the stage.

This night was no different. Or well, maybe it was. It was more of Frank’s snarky, hurtful comments before the show, more than usual. More of relentlessly watching you during it.

You knew Frank was not in the best space of mind recently. Just like the Way brothers he struggled with mental health, and just because you could not stand seeing his pretty face around you, and felt like getting sick the moment you thought about him because of your contrasting feelings for him, you still were observant. Maybe it was about keeping the team together, you wondered, as you felt sweat running down your face, your arms, your back. In order to keep doing the shows everyone needed to be in top shape, and whenever someone wasn’t, the others did their best to take care of them.

It was difficult with Frank though. He would insist to be left alone, and wouldn't come out of his bunk for anything other than a small breakfast in the morning, a toilet break or playing shows. It had been like this for the past three days, and slowly but surely you began worrying about him.

He looked pale underneath his make-up, dark circles under his eyes which he covered up with red eyeshadow. If he hadn’t screamed at you that one time you had tried to ask if there was something you could do for him, you might have tried to get him to open up a little. You hated to see him suffer just as much as you hated him. But then again, maybe you didn’t hate him quite as much as you always made yourself believe.

The thought was unsettling, and at the realisation you almost would have lost the rhythm you were still playing. You definitely had crushed on Frank before things had gotten weird. And you knew you cared about him, even if you did not want to admit it to yourself. So was the idea that you did not hate him at all so far off?

Just in that moment you felt his eyes on you. Not to coordinate the music, but staring at you. For a moment you tried to resist looking back at him, but it was impossible.

He was close to your drums, black crosses over his eyes, the red eyeshadow masking how sunken in his face was. As if he hadn’t eaten and slept for days. You had a feeling he really hadn’t.

For a moment he was holding your gaze, and then, with three big steps, he strode over to Gerard, who was prancing around on stage as always. It happened so fast you were not even sure what you had seen, when Frank let go of his guitar, and grabbed Gerard’s face while he was still in the middle of singing, only to kiss his passionately.

You could tell Gerard was surprised, suddenly having been cut off by a kiss from one of his guitarists, but he reacted smoothly, wrapping his arm around Frank’s neck and kissing back for a short moment, before he pushed Frank off, and continuing to sing as if nothing had happened.

Quickly you averted your gaze, feeling like you had witnessed something you were not supposed to. Of course you knew of the rumours that Frank and Gerard were dating. It was nothing more than that, a rumour, as far as you knew, but maybe you did not know everything.

It was clear Frank had wanted you to see that kiss. Was this maybe the reason he hated you so much? Because you and Gerard had become close friends, and he thought you were trying to steal Gerard away from him? Nothing could have been further from the truth. You liked Gerard, but only as a friend. You were far too confused about your feelings for Frank to even think about liking anyone else.

Still, you felt like that kiss had meant to show you who Gerard belonged with. But what did you care? Frank could have Gerard all for himself, if this was what his weird behaviour was about. It just stung a little too much, the idea that Frank had never seen you as anything but a rival for Gerard’s affection. Secretly you had wanted his glances and stares to mean more than pure hatred.

That’s how the rest of the show went by. You tried focusing on your drumming, but were continuously distracted by thoughts about Frank, about how maybe you had liked him the whole time, more than liked even. About how he seemed to hate you because you were close to Gerard. About how unreasonably disappointed you were that he had probably never had any positive feelings for you at all.

You were glad when the encore finally was over. Your head hurt from all the intrusive thoughts, the picture of Frank kissing Gerard had burnt itself deeper into your mind than you wanted to admit, you were bathed in sweat and your whole body was aching. You had been so tense during the set that you would probably have a whole body muscle ache tomorrow.

You slammed your sticks down on the drums for the last few times that night, letting the applause of the audience wash over you as the last chords of the nights echoed back from the venue’s walls. Gerard was waving at crowd, Mikey already on his way off stage, and Ray threw the left over picks into the audience. You were about to do the same with your drum sticks, when your eyes involuntarily found Frank. He was standing not too far off from your drums, but instead of having turned to the crowd, he had turned to you.

Too late did you notice the motion he had executed with his right hand, too late did you see the blinking thing he had thrown through the air right at you. If you had not been mid motion of throwing your sticks into the audience, you could have evaded whatever he had launched at you, but now you were to slow, the metallic object hitting the side of your forehead hard, and you could not suppress the pained gasp.

Surprised you clasped your hand over the part where you had been hit, immediately searching for what had hit you. It was Frank’s capo. It had clattered to the ground after having it you. Annoyed you picked it up, and threw it back at Frank, not noticing the guilty and apologetic expression he was wearing. The capo hit him mid-chest, and surprised he caught it, as you stared daggers at him from behind your drums. Quickly, as quickly as you could, you climbed out from behind them, and headed off stage.

“Oh, (y/n), you’re bleeding,” Mikey noticed as you tried storming past him to get to the backstage room as quickly as possible.

You were done with tonight. Not only because of all these thoughts that had plagued you, or Frank kissing Gerard. No, this was the first time Frank had actually injured you, and that was the last drop. You couldn’t do this anymore. Frank had made it so very clear he didn’t want you in the band, he could finally have what he wanted. Tomorrow morning you would tell Gerard you quit. Tomorrow, not today, so nobody could say you were being too emotional about it. If they asked you really, really nicely, and promised to keep Frank in check, you would finish this tour with them until they had a new drummer to replace you. But you wanted out. Now.

A warm hand around your wrist dragged you out of your thoughts, and Mikey was looking down on you worriedly.

“What happened there,” he asked, gesturing to your head.

“What,” you asked, bringing your hand up to where Frank had hit you with the capo. When you pulled your hand away, your fingers were coated in blood. “Oh shit.”

Quickly you looked around, trying to find a mirror, but the closest one was probably down the hallway in the bathrooms.

“Is it bad,” you asked.

Mikey leant in closer, taking a good look.

“Nope, don’t think so. Small cut, about this long.” He held his hand out, showing you with his index finger and thumb how long the cut was. Not more than three milimeters.

It seemed there had been a sharp edge on the capo.

“Shit, (y/n), I’m so sorry-”

The voice belonged to no other than Frank, who had followed you off stage. When you spun around to face him, and he saw the thin line of blood running down the side of your face, his eyes grew wide.

“Oh fuck-”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, asshole,” you hissed at him, feeling your blood boil at the sight of him. Had you really thought you liked him? What the hell had been wrong with you? “This was the last time, the last time you threw anything at me, you understand?”

“I didn’t mean to hit you, I was aiming for the- it’s not gonna happen again, I promise,” Frank rushed out. Something about him now was so very different than you remembered him from the past months. He looked genuinely sorry and concerned. But you couldn’t be bothered, not anymore.

“No it’s not, because I won’t be on stage with you anymore for you to throw shit at me!”

You had not meant to say that, but it felt good, to see the shock on Frank’s face, to feel Mikey’s surprise.

“(y/n), you’re not-”

“Yes, I am Mikey! I am quitting! So you-” you pocked your finger into Frank’s direction, “are finally getting what you’ve wanted all this time. Happy now?”

And with that you stormed off.

You did not bother to go to the backstage room, as you had planned, and you did not wait as you heard both Frank and Mikey calling for you to wait. You headed straight out of the backdoor, past the tour bus that was supposed to drop everyone off at the hotel. You could not wait long enough for everyone to make it there, and you could not face Frank.

By now him and Mikey had probably found Gerard and Ray, and told them what had happened; that you had quit.

Shit. That was exactly what you had wanted to avoid, coming across as impulsive and emotional. Frank was supposed to be the impulsive and emotional one, not you. But fuck, you were emotional! There was still blood running down the side of your face, and the headache you had already felt before increased its intensity with every minute. You needed to get away from here, as fast as possible.

Not caring about security or fans being able to see you, you hasted towards the street, already seeing multiple cabs lined up, waiting to find concert goers who were ready to pay for a ride home. Climbing into the first cab in the line, you named the address of the hotel the band had booked rooms at. In the hotel the staff gave you concerned looks, considering how you looked, and even offered to call a doctor, but you insisted you would be fine with a plaster and the keys to one of the booked rooms.

Just as always during hotel nights, it was a double room. A queen sized bed took up the majority of the room, leaving little space for anything but a narrow wardrobe and two bedside tables. You wondered who they would pair up with you tonight. Probably not Gerard, Frank would insist they share a room. Maybe Mikey then, or Ray. You hoped it was Ray. He still knew you the best, and would understand why you could not stay in the band any longer.

Only once you entered the bathroom, you realised you had basically left everything but your wallet at the tour bus, your whole overnight bag with shampoo, towels and pyjama. Luckily the hotel had a shampoo dispenser, towels and some bathrobes prepared for their guests, so you quickly grabbed one, and locked the bathroom door behind you.

The first thing you did was inspect the cut on your forehead. It really was tiny, but the amount of blood had made it look way worse than it was. Now the bleeding had stopped, and the blood dried. Carefully you washed it off, and in the end there was hardly anything to see but a small scratch.

While you were in the shower, rinsing off the sweat of the show, you heard someone entering the hotel room. Over the rushing of water it was impossible to tell who it was, but you definitely heard the door to the room open and then close.

After that you tried to hurry. It wouldn't have been fair to Ray to make him wait too long for his shower. He probably hadn’t taken one at the venue yet. Drying yourself off, you threw on the bathrobe, hoping Ray had either brought your night bag.

“Hey Ray,” you called, as you unlocked the door, your dirty clothes thrown over your arm, and stepped into the room, “you didn’t happen to bring my-”

You froze as you saw that it was not Ray who was sitting on the bed, waiting for you to finish in the bathroom.

It was Frank. He seemed to have washed off the make-up at the venue, because only faint traces of colour stuck to his face now.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he got up. “The others said we should pair up.”

For a long moment you stared at him. You wanted to say something along the lines of never sharing a bed with him, but you knew that he would then insist of sleeping on the floor, and another part of you, the one that had come up with the stupid idea of you maybe liking him, would never have allowed that.

“I packed your bag,” Frank added, nodding to the bag he had placed on the window side of the bed. How had he known you preferred the window side? Or was it just a coincidence?

You nodded, not bothering with an answer.

“Can I- is the bathroom free,” Frank asked carefully. You knew he was watching you, but you refused to look at him, just nodded.

As you were going through your night bag, trying to find a shirt and a pair of shorts, you heard as Frank grabbed his own bag, and headed for the bathroom.

“What you said about leaving the band-”

You guessed he had stopped in the door, but you didn’t turn around.

“I don’t want you to leave. Never wanted that. Can you- I don’t know, can you think about it again? I know we all would-”

“Luckily I don’t care about what you – or the others – want. Not anymore anyway,” you hissed at him, and for the first time that night you felt your throat close up as tears burnt in your eyes.

There was shuffling behind you, and almost you would have expected Frank to say more on the matter but then the bathroom door closed.

Wiping away the tears with the back of your hand, you began looking through your bag again. The idea that Frank had been the one to have packed it, that he had gone through your stuff, made you feel uncomfortable, but at the same time tucked at your heart.

There was a pair of shorts, but the only t-shirt you found was not your own. In fact you were pretty certain it was one of Frank’s. Maybe he had packed it by accident. What other explanation could be there for it? In the end it did not matter though. Shirt was shirt, whether it was his or yours, so you threw it on, and tied the bathrobe closed over it, so Frank wouldn't give you shit for wearing one of his shirts.

In the bathroom the water was still running when you went to bed, cuddled underneath one  of the thick blankets. You were grateful there were separate blankets. The idea to share one with Frank was sickening. Speaking of sickening, you still had that headache. While you had been in the shower, it had gotten better, but now it came back worse than before.

After a while you decided you were not going to be the hero who suffered through it, and got up again. Somewhere in your bag you still had some painkillers…

Once more going through your bag, you subconsciously registered that in the bathroom the water had stopped running, and instead suspicious silence spread out from behind the door. No ruffling of towels, no clicking of shampoo bottle lids, not padding of naked feet on tiled floor.

Holding your movement, you listened. Only silence.

With a shrug you grabbed one of the painkillers from the small bottle, and downed it together with the contents of a small water bottle you had kept in your bag. Definitely needed to replace that one tomorrow with a full one, you mentally noted.

That was when you heard it.

Again you halted, not sure if you had imagined the sound, but a second later it was clearer than before. That was definitely someone crying, sobbing even. Quietly, trying to muffle the sound, but the nightly environment was too quiet to hide it. And it came from the bathroom.

Before you even had thought about it, you were banging against the door. You had heard about how badly Gerard had been, you’d be damned if My Chem lost one of their guitarists just because you couldn’t be bothered to try to talk to him. The idea of Frank doing something really stupid to himself wasn’t farfetched, considering the state he had been over the past days.

“Frank? Frank! What’s going on in there? Open the door!”

Again you banged at it, before listening for a response, but all you got was another sob.

“Frank! Are you okay? Let me in!”

Nothing but more sobs.

Your heart was racing in your throat, and your knees weak. You were probably the last person Frank would really talk to, but you didn’t dare leave the room to get help from the others. So instead you pressed down the door handle experimentally, and like a miracle it swung open.

“I don’t care if you’re naked, I’m coming in,” you warned before you pushed the door fully open and stepped inside.

The air of the bathroom was wet and smelled of Frank’s shower gel. The man himself was sitting in front of the sink, back leant against the wall, and luckily dressed in some shorts and an oversized t-shirt. He had his knees pulled up to his chest, his face buried between them, hands and arms pulled over his head as if to protect himself from the outside world.

As quickly as you could you ran over to him, and fell to your knees besides him.

“Frank,” you asked worriedly, carefully trying to pry away one of his arms. “Frank, are you hurt?”

Another sob, muffled between his knees, escaped him, before he unwrapped himself, and instead leant his head against your shoulder, burying his face in the fabric of the bathrobe. Instinctively you brought your arms around him, and wrapped him in an awkward hug.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he cried. The air he exhaled was hot, traveling through the layers of fabric until it brushed over your skin. “I know it’s my fault, and it’s all on me, but I don’t know how to fix this. I tried to fix it. But I’ve just made it so much worse. I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to lose you.”

Confused you blinked, trying to understand what he was talking about.

“Well, you’re not gonna stop me from leaving,” you told him, fully aware that this was probably exactly the wrong thing to say. But lying to him wouldn’t help him either.

You felt a shiver go through him, and he sobbed again, probably smearing snot all over your bathrobe. Well, not really yours, the hotels. So this should be the least of your worries right now.

“I know. I’m not trying to stop you. I know I fucked up. I tried to fix it, tried to make it work so hard, and all I did was fuck it up. I’m so sorry for ruining this for you,” he whimpered between heavy breaths.

“At which point did you try to fix shit, Frank, hm? When you told Gerard I was a distraction, or when you kept calling me weird names even though you knew I didn’t like it? Or when you kept staring at me as if I’d grow a second head any second? When have you ever tried fixing things? Do you think throwing shit at me would make anything any better? Fuck, Frank, you couldn’t even be bothered to pretend you didn’t hate me as much as you do, just to make it less weird for the others! You didn’t try fixing shit!”

Frank nodded, his hands gripping into the bathrobe, still hiding his face. You could feel how warm his body was, from showering, from crying- he was like a furnace. His shower-wet hair stuck to his head.

“And you can’t expect me to take it any longer, you know? All I’ve been getting from you for months were off handed comments that made me feel like shit, and stuff thrown at me on stage! Fuck, you threw a capo at my head, Frank!”

“I didn’t mean to hit you,” he cried.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you did!”

You couldn’t help but wonder what a strange position you found yourselves in. You were shouting at him while he had buried his face in your shoulder, and was crying his eyes out, all while you soothingly rubbed circles into his back.

After a moment of silence, Frank took a shuddering breath.

“I never hated you,” he mumbled, his voice shaky but clear, as if he was putting lots of thought and effort into every word. “I know it seemed that way, but I never did. The opposite really. When you leave that’s the only thing I need you to know: That I’ve always admired you, and that I wish I could’ve done things right, so we could’ve played with this band ‘till the day we die.”

“Some things just aren’t meant to be,” you answered softly, patting his head, making him sob again.

“I just wish I could go back in time and do it right, you know. Do it right from the very first moment on. Just be honest with you, and hope things work out from there.”

“You could still be honest now,” you offered.

Curiosity was eating away at you. Could you finally find out why Frank had treated you the way he had? Why he had never let you get close, why he had not left his bunk in the past days?

“It wouldn’t make a difference anymore,” Frank mumbled, but he seemed calmer now, as if the idea of telling the truth might offer some relief.

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” you suggested, running your hand through his wet locks. They were soft like silk. When he did not speak for a moment, you added: “What’s going on these past days? You barely got out of bed.”

“Wasn’t feeling good,” Frank mumbled. You could feel him slightly lean into your touch as you ran your nails over his scalp, so you continued the simple action.

“I thought so much. What wasn’t feeling good exactly?”

“Think I knew this was coming to an end,” he admitted. “That I’ve gone too far, and you’d want to leave, and that nothing I could do would stop you, and that everything I had tried to keep you to stay up until that point had only driven you away.”

You hummed, signalling him you had heard, waiting if he wanted to say more, but when he didn’t, you asked another question.

“What was that thing about kissing Gerard earlier at the show? You know… if you like him you don’t gotta worry about me, okay? Gee ‘n I are friends, nothing more.”

“I know.”

“Then why that kiss? It felt like… you wanted to demonstrate that Gerard belonged with you…”

“Didn’t,” Frank answered quietly. “Wanted to make you jealous.”

“Why would you want to make me jealous of you?”

“Not me. Gee.”

You blinked. “Gerard? Why would I be jealous of Gerard?”

Frank tensed underneath your hands, but did not answer. If he wanted you to be jealous of Gerard, could it be that- no. No possible way.

You filed that piece of information away with all the other puzzle pieces that did not fit the picture, and continued asking your questions. It seemed, for the first time since you had met Frank that he was willing to open up to you, at least to a certain degree. You had to make use of that opportunity.

“In the beginning – the first few weeks – we were fine, remember? What changed?”

Frank shook his head against your shoulder, making you raise your eyebrows.

“You don’t know?”

“Don’t wanna say,” Frank corrected.

“I thought you wanted to be honest,” you answered, knowing you were poking around in affairs that probably were none of your business, but he had made you suffer for months. You felt like you finally deserved some answers.

“Emotions are complicated,” Frank replied cryptically.

“What emotions?”

For a moment he thought about his answer, then he spoke slowly. “I wanted you to notice me, wanted you to know that I felt comfortable around you, like when I stole your food and your clothes. And when it got obvious you didn’t feel the same… I got frustrated. And jealous. Because you always hang out with Gee ‘nd Ray ‘nd Mikey- and I started doing dumb shit, and – it was easier to drive you away than to admit that I wanted actually the complete opposite of that. Because when I’m honest, I’m vulnerable, and I don’t wanna be hurt.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Frank,” you whispered, not entirely sure what to make of the things he had just told you. He had wanted you to notice him? He sure had managed that. Why would he have been jealous though?

“What hurts me and what doesn’t isn’t in your power to decide,” Frank mumbled, his words muffled against the bathrobe you wore.

“Frank-” trying to pull him slightly away from you to look at his face, you placed your hands on his shoulders, but he only stiffened under your touch, his hands clawing tighter into your clothes. “Frank, I feel like I still don’t really understand what is going on, what has been going on the whole time. You say you’re jealous, and you don’t really hate me- but it’s pretty obvious you don’t like me either. What is it, you feel? Can you try putting it into words?”

Frank shook his head against your shoulder again.

“Can’t or won’t?”

“’m scared.”

“Of what?”

For a moment he was quiet, before he suddenly sat up with a jolt. His eyes were bloodshot, his lips red-rimmed, and his whole face swollen and flaky from crying. He looked truly pitiful. You wanted to wrap him in your arms again and promise him everything would be alright. It would have been a lie. He had said he didn’t want you to leave the band but your mind was made up. But maybe a white lie, just to make him feel better…

You were still thinking about how much you wanted to help him, when Frank suddenly leant forward, and without warning pressed his lips to yours. They were hot and tasted of his salty tears. Slightly startled you almost lost your balance from the force with which Frank had come at you. Searching for something to hold onto, and desperate not to let go of him, you quickly wrapped your arms around him, holding him close.

At first it was just the surprise of the sudden kiss that made you dizzy, but when Frank opened his mouth, and licked against your lips, you felt like you could faint any moment. Everything around you was spinning; the only solid thing was Frank, as he took over the kiss, and kissed you harder than anyone had ever done before.

You could feel his pulse hammer underneath your hands, could feel his breath fan over your skin, could taste the desperation with which he kissed you. It was both sweet and hungry, the way he pressed closer to you needy and hopeful, as he twisted you so your back was pressed to the cold, tiled wall of the bathroom, with him pinning you against it, as good as your sitting positions allowed him too.

It was only when you seemed to have worked through the first rush of surprise that Frank suddenly pulled away. Confused at the loss of contact you blinked your eyes open, finding his lips were cherry red, and his eyes glowing. It made you want to lurch forward and kiss him again. But before you could, it seemed like dark clouded his face, and the glimmer in his eyes disappeared, the glow he had seemed to emit darkened.

“This is what I’ve wanted the whole time,” he sat back, bringing more distance between you. Agonizing, cold, painful distance. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have kissed you without-”

You cut him off then and there. You didn’t care. Yes, consent was important, but now that you knew he wanted to kiss you, you saw no reason as to why you should stop yourself from doing so.

He gasped when your lips met his again, just as desperate as he had been moments ago, but he kissed back hungrily, and placed his warm hands on your waist as you climbed into his lap. He held you close and steady, as you got lost in his touch. An hour ago you could never have imagined thinking this, but he radiated safety. The way he held you, the way he kissed you, the way his breath brushed over your skin in little gasps, the hammering of your heart at the quiet moans that escaped him. It made you feel like you were on top of the world, everything else around you forgotten, only you and Frank. Who cared about hotel bathrooms and touring and bands and music? Not you, not while you were kissing Frank like you had dreamt of since the first proper conversation you had had with him. The voice, that had tried to remind you of this little fantasy while the rest of you had convinced you that you hated Frank, seemed to dance a little dance of joy in your heart, as you wrapped your hands into Frank’s hair, and pulled him closer and closer.

Only when you were completely out of breath, you eventually pulled away, leaning your forehead to Frank’s shoulder. He used the opportunity to push the collar of the bathrobe away a bit, and placed butterfly kisses on your neck until you were giggling.

“I know I can’t make you stay,” Frank suddenly said, lifting his head. You did too, looking down on him from where you sat in his lap. “I know that if you truly want to leave the band, nothing and nobody can stop you. But when you do… do you think you could stay at least with me? I don’t want to lose you.”

Confused you furrowed your brows at him, tilting your head to ask what he meant.

“Do you think you could give me – us – a second chance. I love you, (y/n), I love your passion and how you never take shit from anyone, how patient you are, how caring, and you’re the most beautiful person I could ever imagine. I love you so fucking much, and I know I probably ruined any chance, but if I haven’t-”

“You haven’t,” you interrupted him.

Frank eyes widened hopefully, and he watched you very closely as he continued. “So if I asked you to be mine- will you be mine?”

“As much as you’ll be mine,” you answered, your heart beating a thousand miles an hour, as Frank laughed in disbelief.

“My heart’s been yours from the first moment on,” he breathed, before pressing his lips to yours again.

But instead of losing yourself in his kiss, you pulled away again.

“Ask me the other thing,” you demanded, making him look at you confused.

“The other-” he stopped, realisation hitting him like a freight train, and he barely managed to get the words out quickly enough. “Please stay in the band, please I beg you. Will you stay in the band?”

You smiled softly, and brushed his hair out of his eyes, before slowly getting up from his lap. Offering him a hand you helped him up. Immediately he placed his hands back at your waist, his eyes searching for an answer to his question in yours.

“Let’s go to bed,” you whispered, “We have a long tour ahead of us, and I don’t wanna miss out on a proper bed.”

“Is that a-”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll stay in the band. If you stop throwing shit at me on stage.”

Gently you pushed Frank down on the bed, and quickly he scrambled to get under the blanket before he opened his arms for you to crawl into. You followed his invitation without hesitation.

“I promise I’ll only throw myself at you from now on,” he whispered, and you could hear the sly grin in his voice, but when you placed your head on his chest, his heart was racing. He was not at all feeling as cool about the situation as he pretended. It made you grin, and you found yourself liking him even more than before.

“Approved, but only under the condition that you take the guitar off before.”

“That can be arranged,” Frank nodded, playing around with the hem of the bathrobe you were still wearing. “Hey, is that one of my shirts?”

Quickly you sat up again, and brushed the bathrobe off, revealing the shirt you had found in your bag, and put on.

“You packed that one for me,” you accused, but when you glanced at Frank, you found he looked at you as if you had hung the stars in the sky.

“You look so good in my clothes,” he whispered, pulling you back down to his chest, and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

His arms were tightly wrapped around you, and while he told you more about how he had felt in the months in which you had been fighting, how heartbroken he had been, how helpless, and how much he had loved you the whole time, you listened to his steady heartbeat until you had fallen asleep.

-

“Of course she was serious, when she said she wanted to leave,” Ray shook his head, pouring milk into his cereal. “Frank’s been harassing her for months. I’m surprised she didn’t quit sooner.”

“I always thought it was all in good fun between them,” Gerard sighed, sipping from his coffee. “I thought they were goofing around, not actually fighting. I mean, he’s so fucking hard in love with her...”

“Well, yesterday evening they were actually fighting,” Mikey mumbled. “Kept me up ‘till two before they finally shut up.”

“Do you think they killed each other?”

“If yes, we’re in real trouble finding not one, but two new band members,” Mikey sighed.

“I’m not offering my friends again,” Ray quickly defended. “She’s probably already mad that I didn’t shut Frank down more often. I don’t wanna loose more friends.”

“Do we even know anyone who plays drums and would join us?”

“You won’t need a new drummer, if you’ll still have me.”

Your voice made the three look up from their breakfast table, their eyes widening as they saw Frank and you standing next to them. It looked weird seeing the two of you standing so close next to each other without fuming from the mouths. Like an alternative reality, or real life Photoshop.

“Does that mean you’ll stay,” Ray asked, hopeful, his eyes quickly flickering to where Frank’s and your pinkies were linked between you.

“Frank and I talked tonight,” you answered and pulled out a chair, sitting down next to Ray. Frank took the chair on your other side, throwing his arm around your shoulder, and leant over, gently nudging his nose against your jaw before he placed a kiss there. “He had a few very compelling arguments for me to stay.”

Taglist:

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

[frnkier0]

rules for requesting ★

★ who i write for ★

gerard way , mikey way , ray toro , frank iero

★ what i will write ★

angst , fluff , smut , etc.

★ what i won't write ★

incest , r@pe , gore , etc.

if you do not see something pls reach out and ask if i will write it and i will let you know!

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine Frank Iero being the only person that you feel safe around.

As your silly boyfriend proceeded to drink from his coffee cup without his hands, you were looking on and laughing with complete admiration. Frank was the only one who could make you laugh, who could make you feel ... comfortable, safe, loved. And it had taken quite a bit of time to get to this place but now that you were there, you were never leaving.

He lowered his head, cup included, and let it drop down into his awaiting hand. He then, very proudly, made a Ta-Da! motion, looking quite keen on himself. “You’re magic, babe,” You said, leaning up and kissing him on the cheek. This made that little face grin even wider.

“Yeah, cause I’m cool!” He said, slipping an arm around your waist. A year ago, such contact would have been impossible. You would have flinched and moved away without thinking. Being touched used to be such a trigger for you, and it still could be if it was anyone other than Frank.

But very luckily for you, you had a very protective boyfriend in the musician. It could get hard sometimes, if he was spotted in public and fans would come around but he’d always move himself off so that they wouldn’t crowd you. Close enough that he could keep an eye on you at all times, that if anything happened he could run back over to you in seconds. His legs were short but they were strong and surprisingly fast. If anyone even came to close, gone was the happy-go-lucky Franky and out came the face of a guy who would very easily smash a guitar against someone’s face. To anyone else, this might have felt like overkill, like he was being too protective, like he was guarding over you.

But you?

This was absolutely what you needed. He was everything you needed.

[wamscoastsmokerrr]

no but seriously imagine it:

You’re seeing fall out boy at the wwwy festival 2024. Everyone is having a great time. Fall out boy seem a little excited. “We have a surprise for you guys.” Patrick says. All of a sudden Cobra Starship comes out and start singing “the kids are all fucked up.” When Gabe gets to the chorus, someone else starts singing…
“When I was a young boy my father took me into the city to see a marching band.”
Lights flash everywhere, and you see FOB singing “the kids are all fucked up” along with Cobra Starship, while MCR is singing “Black parade”. Everyone in the crowd is going wild and crying. Then if things couldn’t get any better, Dan and Phil walk onto stage and kiss, holding the gay flag.

[saturdayisover]

[dr0wninthefear]

photos you haven’t seen of Frank because I took them 😌✨

[sleaterkinnie]

how mcr reacts to you on your period

gerard: omg......<3333.....no way.. umm. uhhh ...could i have some *blushes and runs away* 

mikey: thats fucking gross man. IDC TBH

ray: your what. 

frank: oh shit no way we synced up. rad

[t-a-l-i-a18]

You’ll never catch me naming my dog Soup

[anystalker707]

.worship.

Pairings: Gerard Way x [gender neutral/afab] Reader Frank Iero x [gender neutral/afab] Reader Word count: ~ 700 [G.W.] - 600 [F.I.] Genre: Drabble / Smut / Fluff Summary: His adoration for your body is unquestionable. Kind of content: Chubby Reader / Praising / Dom-Sub undertones / Sub Reader / Body worship not proofreader

requested by anon ["heya, first time asking for smthn like this but do you do any fanfictions for plus size / chubby readers? If you do could you do a sub female plus size reader with Gerard way or Frank iero? Smthn slow and loving? (Smut)"]

MASTERLIST

Gerard would often get lost in thoughts while staring at your thighs, even before you even got together. You would often catch him looking at your thighs—even more when they were flat against some surface—, with that dumb face, and he always did that shitty poor job whenever someone confronted him about it. After you two got together, he simply pretended that never happened.

Gerard would always buy you the best clothes that made your curves stand out. He would always have that dumb look on his face while observing you trying on the clothes he bought you. Pampering you would quickly become a habit. Seeing you in those pretty clothes, even more, the lingerie and thigh highs… He needed to see you in those, to touch you and tell you how pretty you were. Sometimes, it just resumed itself to admiring, really, sitting on his lap while his hands ran along your curves, and he pressed kisses to your neck while whispering sweet words.

Gerard sometimes couldn’t handle how hot you looked and would take you away for a fuck. He needed to have you under him—or on top of him, even. All that mattered was being able to have a good view of your body. Something about the way the skin sank under his fingertips every time he held onto your thighs, hips, or waist was just so heavenly. Or breasts— Fuck, the way he would hold them while you rode him. He loved the squish, the way it felt, the way it looked.

Gerard also loved sinking his teeth into your skin, sucking and biting marks into it because just observing wasn’t enough. He needed even more of you. He would not hesitate to nibble your thighs and hips whenever he had the chance, seeming all proud of his job when he took a look at it later.

Gerard would gladly die smothered by your thighs. Having his head between your thighs was absolutely one of the things he loved the most, having the soft and plump skin he loved so much around his head while he pleased you.

          Gerard’s hands slipped between your thighs, while one of his arms wrapped around your torso for support; meanwhile, one of your hands wrapped around his shoulders and the other around his wrist.

“God, you’re so hot like this, baby…” His breath was hot against your skin, forehead pressed to your temple while he kept speaking those sweet nothings. The words alone were enough to make arousal stir in the bottom of your stomach, even more with how his hand moved between your legs.

A couple of fingers teased your clit, rubbing slow circles into it. Gerard loved the way your breath would get caught in your throat, making broken whimpers escape your lips while you hopelessly tried to move your hips against his hand. Useless, by the way. He just wouldn’t change the pace of his fingers. He wanted to enjoy every second the most, savoring the moment completely, even if all he had at the moment was a neglected cock stuck inside uncomfortable tight pants. The most he would have, from time to time, was the way your thighs would rub against it whenever you squirmed.

Those thighs, fuck. They looked so pretty flat against Gerard’s like that. He really couldn’t help himself.

Occasionally, Gerard’s fingers would actually slip into your pussy—he would collect some of the wetness to help his fingers glide against your puffy clit even easier, making the motions so delicious.

“Gerard,” you choked out his name, trying to plead for him to finally let you cum.

“Shh,” Gerard soothed. He could sense your thighs pressing together a little too much, your hips too unquiet, so he gave you a pause once again. He could keep going like that, wanting to see how far you could go until you either became a complete mess or came with the slightest touch.

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

Frank maybe—just maybe—loved your chubbiness a little too much. He wouldn’t admit it, constantly stuttering excuses and looking away while his face burned red, but you knew too well that he enjoyed the way your bottoms sometimes sank into your skin and made the skin muffin a little.

Frank, whose hands always found their way to your thighs whenever you sat on his lap or had your legs over his. He would hold and squeeze your thighs, sometimes absentmindedly, as if they were his to use as he pleased whenever he wanted to.

Frank would always hold onto your hips while you kissed, letting his fingers sink into it. Sometimes, he would even rub circles into your hips. It all started when he would occasionally pull you closer by your hips, then he started squeezing them out of curiosity before it grew into a habit.

Frank loved just resting his head on your tummy while you lay in bed or on the couch. He would just rest his head there and, sometimes, slip your shirt up a little bit, so he could give your tummy tiny kisses.

Frank would always bite his lip and groan softly whenever you started taking off your clothes, sometimes muttering about how hot you were. His hands would immediately roam over your body at any given opportunity. His hands would grope everywhere he could, going down your ass to hold there while you made out or while you rode him.

          “Frank,” you whispered. Those little kisses on the exposed slice of the skin of your torso were starting to lose their innocence. You took a little too long to notice—you were immersed in the book you had in hand, lying on the couch while Frank lay his head on your torso like he usually did. “Frank,” you said again, with a firmer tone.

A groan came in response from Frank. He said nothing, of course. If anything, he only got bolder. His kisses went until the waistband of your shorts, where he had to take a pause while his fingers wrapped around it and slowly started pulling it down.

A shaky breath escaped your lips.

“Mm, Frank, I’m—”

“Your book can wait,” he said simply as he just took your shorts off.

Who even were you to argue? A sigh escaped your lips as you put the book away and spread your legs open to give Frank more access.

Frank’s lips kept peppering kisses all over your tummy and hips, worshiping them way more than he would admit he enjoyed. He nibbled a little down your hip, making you gasp and instinctively buck your hips forward. Damn.

“What are you so hot for…” Frank grumbled among other things, making your face heat up while you tried to sit still for him. His hands held onto your thighs, letting his fingers sink into them while his lips made their way down until the feeling of him mouthing your pussy through your underwear made you squirm again. “Easy,” Frank said with a gentle squeeze on your thighs. It took you a little effort, but you did your best to sit still as his mouth pressed to you through your underwear, only starting the teasing.

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

This is the Best Birthday Ever - Frank Iero x Reader

Summary: You’re picking up your friend and neighbour Frank from the airport on the day after his birthday. Reader: gender neutral (no pronouns used) Word count: 2 811 A/N: So according to my earlier post at least @thewordworrier @robinruns  and @poptod want to read this belated birthday story, so here you are.

You inhaled deeply, trying to keep your tired eyes from fluttering shut. It was 1am, and the sound of the airport around you had barely quieted down. That was the thing with airports, they just existed outside of normal time zones, you supposed. You had found a quieter spot on a bench next to a newspaper shop, from which you were able to keep an eye on the exit of the gate at which your friend Frank was supposed to arrive. As always when you thought of him, your heart began beating faster. He had supposed to be here three hours ago, but the huge departure and arrival information boards that were installed everywhere, had shown you that his flight had been delayed. They had landed over an hour ago, but it seemed like there had been a problem, because Frank still had not shown up.

Trying to wake yourself up a little more, you straightened your posture, tightly holding onto the box with cupcakes you were balancing in your lap. It was the first of November, meaning Frank’s birthday was just about over, but that had not stopped you from getting four delicately decorated cupcakes from Frank’s favourite bakery. It was awful really, how you never knew what to get him for his birthday. He was your best friend, your favourite person, you knew him almost as well as yourself, and still you never had any ideas for presents. He already had everything he wanted, or at least wished for nothing which you could have gotten for him. So you usually got him food, sometimes homemade, sometimes store bought, sometimes you invited him out for dinner. He always beamed like the sun itself when you got him food as a present, so you figured he did not mind, and in fact he had often voiced how happy he was whenever you got him something that would not end up taking up space in his house.

Nervously you bit your lip, and checked your phone again, but there still was no new message from him. You sighed and sunk back against the cold metal of the bench.

Frank and you had known each other for years, and you had always had a weak spot for him. One you never had dared acting upon. He was a rockstar; you were just the neighbour who occasionally watered his plants while he was out on tour where he played huge stages in front of thousands and thousands of people. There was no way in hell he would ever see you as anything more but a friend. But that did not stop your stupid little heart from beating faster at the very thought of him. You supposed you should be thankful that he was not the type to sleep around. Or at least you never heard about him doing so. You were not a very jealous person, but that didn’t mean that it would not have have hurt.

You had just realized that in all the years you had known Frank he had never actually been in a relationship, just like yourself, when suddenly the automatic door from his gate opened, and a new flood of people sweapt into the hall.

Expectantly you got up from the bench, your legs stiff as you took a few steps forward, hoping to spot him in the crowd. And sure enough, this time you finally were able to make out his familiar mop of dark, dishevelled hair. He still had a neck pillow around his neck, cuddled in a warm jacket, and pulling a huge suitcase after himself, heading straight for the exit of the airport.

“Frank!”

It was impossible to shout over the chattering of the people around you, so you hurriedly made your way through the crowd, slipping past countless people, always close to losing Frank from your sight, until you were just a few feet behind him.

“Frank!”

This time he heard you, and stopped in his steps, turning to see who had called for him.

His eyes widened in surprise when he saw it was you, and a tired smile pulled at his lips as he mumbled out your name.

“What are you doing here?”

“Picking you up of course,” you answered, closing the last feet between you and wrapping your arms around him, careful not to drop the box with cupcakes. “It’s still basically your birthday. And I didn’t want you to have to take a cab all the way home.”

Frank returned the hug, letting go of his suitcase, and relaxed into your embrace. You could have sworn he tucked himself a little closer to you, but you ignored the thought and pulled away.

“Happy Birthday!”

Expectantly you held out the box with the cupcakes, making Frank raise his eyebrows.

“Are those what I think they are,” he asked, but his voice sounded flat, tired instead of excited.

“If you think that those are your favourite kind of cupcakes from your favourite bakery, then yes, they are,” you grinned, taking a moment to take in Frank more closely.

He did look drop dead tired, you realized. Dark circles were under his eyes, and his cheeks were slightly fallen in, not from a lack of food, but from exhaustion. And his eyes were absent. You knew this look. It wasn’t tour that had exhausted him, it was something else. Sometimes he was fighting his anxiety, sometimes an event in his friends’ lives triggered these episodes, when he was overthinking constantly. You knew he did his best to appreciate your gestures, picking him up and getting him cupcakes. But right now… he was just exhausted. You had a feeling that on the ride home he wouldn’t talk much, instead would prefer to listen or sit in silence. He probably wouldn’t nap off though, would rather watch the landscape pass by, lost in his own mind.

You had never minded when he was like that. You had phases like that yourself. And you knew him well enough by now to be used to it. Sometimes he came over, when he was not on tour, to talk to you, and afterwards you would sit in silence for a while, and whenever you invited him to stay for as long as he liked, when his house with its many rooms got too big and lonely for him, he would just watch you work.

So now the best thing you could do was leave him alone. He would talk when he felt ready for it.

“Come on,” you encouraged, grabbing the handle of his suitcase, as he was now holding the box with cupcakes, “Let’s get you home.”

Side by side you walked out of the airport, and out into the freezing cold night. Your car was parked in one of the huge parking lots, and it took you far too long for your liking to walk there. Frank’s movements were sluggish, and where usually he would already be talking your ear off about all he had seen and experienced on tour, he now wrapped himself in silence. You let him, knowing you would only upset him and consequentially yourself if you tried to make him talk.

“Thanks for picking me up,” Frank suddenly mumbled, when your car came into view. “You must’ve waited for ages. And the drive isn’t too short either…”

“It’s okay,” you shrugged, searching for your car keys in the pocket of your jacket. “I like night drives. And hey, the bench in the airport was surprisingly comfortable.” For the first 10minutes at least.

Frank snorted at your answer. “And thanks for the cupcakes, obviously. I don’t think I actually thanked you.”

“You’re welcome,” you winked, and unlocked the car.

Frank insisted on helping you lift his suitcase in the trunk of the car, before he climbed into the passenger side, taking his jacket and the neck pillow off. You knew he was always cold, at almost any given moment wrapped in at least three layers of clothing, so you made sure to turn up the heating as soon as you had started the motor.

The drive was quiet. Just like you had predicted Frank had not begun talking, nor sleeping, and instead was looking out of the window, as houses, trees, lights and landscapes passed you by. It was a comfortable silence, one you felt no need to break, even though the drive did take more than an hour.

It was not until you pulled into the quarter in which the street was where Frank and you lived, that he spoke up.

“Something stupid happened to a friend of mine,” he suddenly began telling you. Surprised, and as a signal that you were listening, you raised your eyebrows and hummed. “He had a girl he liked, like… for a really long time already. But he never did anything about it, because he thought she didn’t like him back.”

Nervously you swallowed. This story sounded too much like your own for your liking.

“And then she met another guy, and as things go they are marrying next week,” Frank continued, not having noticed your reaction. “And it’s even worse because he found out like a week ago that she actually did like him back the whole time, but because he never did anything, she though he wasn’t interested in her. So now she’s marrying that other bloke because she actually loves him, and my friend’s super devastated.”

“Oh man,” you breathed out, trying to imagine how both of them had to feel. How would you feel if Frank suddenly were to marry someone only for you to find out you might have had a chance with him? “That’s awful. I’m so sorry for him.”

Frank hummed in affirmation.

“Truth be told, I don’t think she would’ve been good for him, but you know… the heart does what it wants.”

You nodded, slowly turning into your street. Between the properties grew patches of forest, making wild animals no rare occurrence, so you were driving extra carefully not to accidentally hit one.

“It made me think, you know…” Frank continued after a moment of silence. You passed by your house. Just a few more meters and you would have reached Frank’s. “I’m kinda like in the same situation as my friend, except…”

You clenched your jaw. All these years Frank had never talked about other women, but of course he had to start now. Seemed like you were about to find out first-hand what his friend felt like.

You slowed down and turned off the motor when you reached Frank’s driveway, but instead of getting out of the car, he just unbuckled himself and turned enough in his seat to be facing you.

“I don’t want the same thing to happen to me. And I know this isn’t the most romantic moment or the best time but- fuck, he thought he had time and suddenly he had run out of it, and I’m terrified the same might happen to me. So even if it’s not romantic, and not phrased the way I would like to be able to, but I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you pretty much since the moment you moved in next doors. And it’s cliché, the punk falling for the sweet neighbour, but I don’t care. I don’t care because it’s you, and you are the only thing I really care about anymore right now. And maybe it’s stupid. Maybe it’s stupid to think for just a moment you might feel the same for me, because obviously that’s what I really want, but I just can’t help it, okay? I know it changes things, now that you know, and I’m sorry for that, especially after everything you’ve done for me, but I just need to know if there is any chance you might ever feel the same way for me. Because if there is, I don’t care when, but if there is a chance you’ll ever like me back, I’ll wait for you. I don’t care how long. I’ll wait.”

Silence engulfed you once more once Frank had finished talking, while you were still trying to recover from the shock and surprise of his words.

Anxiously he met your eyes, startled when he saw you smile.

“You won’t have to wait, Frank,” you told him gently, trying to sort through your thoughts to find the right words. “When you said you were in the same situation as your friend, I thought I was about to find out what he felt like when the girl he liked met someone else.”

Frank’s eyes widened slightly as he began to understand where you were going.

“I like you too, Frank. Liked you pretty much from the first moment on. I don’t know where we’re supposed to go from here, but I’m very happy that you had the courage to tell me how you felt. I never could’ve made the first step.”

Frank blinked at you surprised before his eyes softened.

“We don’t need a grand plan or anything,” he quickly told you. “We’ll just take one step at a time. As long as that’s what you want.”

“That’s more than good enough for me,” you smiled, and reached a hand over to Frank, who quickly took it in his and squeezed it gently.

For a moment you sat like that, before his eyes flickered to your lips.

“May I-“

He trailed off, letting the question hang unfinished in the space between you, but he wouldn’t have had to ask. You had dreamt of kissing him for too long. So you nodded slightly, unable to tear your eyes away from his own lips, until he leant in and your eyes fluttered closed.

His kiss was gentle, warm and soft. Nothing like the bruising, spit-wet kisses you had seen him share with his bandmates on stage. One of his hands was still holding yours, while he brought the other up to your chin, gently cupping it as his tongue swiped across your lips, tasting you. But before you could open your mouth to his teasing, before you could get lost in his sweet ministrations, he pulled away, leaning back into his seat from where he had been leaning over the console.

For a moment he looked at you with glassy eyes, blinking a few times in confusion.

“I’m so high on sleep deprivation, I’m not sure any of what just happened was even real,” he admitted.

You laughed quietly and shook your head in amusement.

“It was real, alright? But I think it’s about time for you to go to bed.”

“Oh, are you gonna help me,” Frank grinned already a lot more confident now that he knew you returned his feelings.

“Don’t get cocky now,” you warned him with a smile, climbing out of the car, and walking to the trunk to retrieve his suitcase.

Frank giggled gleefully as he got out of the car himself, searching his pockets for his keys, while balancing the box with cupcakes.

“Are you gonna come inside,” he asked hopefully, tired eyes watching you pleadingly, as you rolled the suitcase up to the front door.

You were about to answer, asking him if he even knew how late it was, when he pointed to the box with the baked goods.

“We still need to share these.”

You rolled your eyes and sighed.

“Alright, if that’s your argument, I shall let you convince me.”

You watched as Frank grinned and unlocked the front door, gesturing for you to step inside first. Feeling around for the light switch, you turned on the light in the hallway, momentarily blinding yourself with the bright light after having come in from the darkness. As you pushed the suitcase to the side next to a wall, you heard Frank place the box with the cupcakes on a shelf by the door. You had just turned around to him, to close the door, when he grabbed you by the waist, firmly and yet gentle, his lips finding yours again immediately.

A sound of surprise left you, giving Frank the opportunity to slip his tongue past your parted lips, which he immediately took. Both overwhelmed and dizzy with happiness you wrapped your hands into his hair, pulling him closer to you, relishing the warmth his body radiated against you, as cool night air streamed past you into the house.

“This is the best birthday present ever,” he mumbled against your lips, barely audible, but making you giggle, and want to hide your with embarrassment burning face against his neck.

You did not get the chance to though, because Frank kicked the door closed behind his back with a swift motion. And before you even had time to register what he was doing, he had already pinned you to the door, and kissed you again.

Taglist:

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

[frnkier0]

masterlist ★

[saintturpentine]

So you know how a lot of modern romance books are just published starwars reylo fanfics…yeah…I think we need start publishing mcr fanfics traditionally …

[frnkiebby]

pretty sweaty drowned rat~🎃

[g3r4rdsw4ywh0re]

OKAY BUT I NEED FANFICTION ABOUT GERARD GOING TO PRISON AND THEN Y/N AND GERARD HAVE ALL THOSE VISITS AND SHIT IMAGINE HOW CUTE IT WOULD BE

I would write it but I'm not really sure becuse english is not my first language >w<

[ghoulgirlwrites]

So Don’t Hate Me, Trust In Me

Pairing: Frank Iero x Female Reader

Era: Danger Days

Requested by: Anon

Word Count: ~1500

Summary/Request: So I was thinking about a Frank X fem!Reader (she/her) during Danger Days era, where they are really close and it's obvious they like each other, and Frank is more forward with liking her, but she's insecure bc she doesn't have any experience with relationships and intimacy (even just handholing and stuff), and is worried he'd be disappointed, maybe even something like she's not good enough for him. And he gets her to talk about it to him and is really understanding and reassuring, and willing to give her time and space, but she feels better after the conversation and wants to try. So basically angst to fluff?

A/N: I LOVED writing this one. It was one of the first fics I worked on in getting out of my hiatus and it was just everything I wanted in a request (particularly Danger Days Frank). Enjoy!

--

You’d just started a new job as Frank’s guitar tech. It was a dream job for you, since you wanted to work with bands and travel around the world, but you were too shy to get onstage yourself. MyChem were currently on tour promoting their newest album, Danger Days, and you were excited to work for them, since you’d been friends with Frank since shortly before Revenge had come out.

But the best part of the job was getting to work with Frank. The rest of the band was super nice and welcoming, but Frank was so generous and he seemed to care about making your job easier whenever he could. Every time you switched out a guitar for him, he’d grin at you as if you were his personal savior. When you’d first started working for Frank, you’d been nervous that it would affect your friendship, but it had only brought you closer.

However, you were trying to be cautious because you knew you were starting to fall for him. You figured that he was just nice to you because he was nice to the rest of the crew, but you often caught yourself wondering what it would be like to kiss him or to run your fingers through his hair, which he’d taken to wearing longer, down to his shoulders. You knew you couldn’t act on these feelings because you figured he’d never like you back and saying or doing the wrong thing could put you out of a job and you really wanted to keep working with him, not just because of your crush.

--

You were just about finished setting up before MyChem took the stage for tonight. You handed Frank his first guitar and he put his hand over yours on the neck of the instrument, holding you in his hazel eyed gaze.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“You’re welcome.” You felt proud that your voice didn’t tremble and you prayed he didn’t notice your hand shaking beneath his.

He turned to head to the side of the stage, but then ran back to you.

“Did you forget something, Frank?” You asked.

“Yeah. I just wanted to say you look really nice tonight,” he said.

Your cheeks burned as you averted your gaze. “Thanks.”

You watched him play his heart out, still bewildered from the compliment he’d given you. It wasn’t the first time, but usually his praise was about your work. Your stomach fluttered at the idea that he noticed how you looked. You usually dressed for comfort, in jeans, band shirts, and hoodies and you weren’t dressed that differently tonight, apart from the fact that you were wearing your favorite hoodie. You liked it because it was comfortable, but you also thought that it brought out the color in your eyes.

The show was nearing the end, when Gerard started walking around the stage as he spoke into his microphone.

“So before we play our last song, we wanted to give a big thank you to our crew who do such an amazing job at every show. Thank you to our merch, our lights and sound people--”

Frank cut in. “And I just wanted to call my guitar tech, Y/N, to the stage for a minute. Y/N, where you at, girl?”

Your face burned as you shrunk back, but you saw Frank walking over to you, his guitar still slung around his neck. He lifted one hand, beckoning you gently with one finger. “Come on,” he mouthed, his lips curling in a sweet smile.

You sighed, walking onstage to a crowd of thousands, who were all screaming for you. ‘Bet they’d scream for just about anything if Frank told them to,’ you thought bitterly to yourself. But all thoughts went out of your head as Frank took your hand and led you over to his mic so he could talk.

“This is Y/N, my amazing guitar tech, she keeps me in line all night, can we give her a big round of applause?” Frank asked the crowd, lifting his arms up towards the pit. You blushed over his comment about “keeping him in line all night,” and hoped the stage lights didn’t show how red you felt.

The crowd went wild once again and your face burned even more as you felt Frank wrap his arm around you and pull you into a hug, discreetly kissing your cheek. It was such a quick peck that you were almost sure you’d imagined it, but when Frank pulled away from you, he was blushing too, but grinning, the corners of his hazel eyes crinkling.

Frank finally let you go and you escaped to the sanctuary of backstage. You hadn’t wanted to hurt Frank’s feelings by running away, but it made you nervous being in the spotlight. And that kiss on your cheek had made your heart soar, but now you felt nervous. What did it mean?

--

After that night, you tried to keep yourself busy and limit your interactions with Frank. You didn’t know what his intentions were and you were scared you weren’t good enough for him. You had never really dated anyone and you knew he’d had quite a few relationships, so you were also afraid that your inexperience would be a turnoff for him.

It was hard to totally avoid him though, especially since you worked for him and you’d seen his face fall enough to know that he’d noticed and wasn’t happy about it, but you couldn’t help it.

Finally, he cornered you one day backstage while one of the opening bands set up for their set.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he murmured.

Your heart stopped. You were caught. There was no avoiding the conversation now. You swallowed hard. “Frank, I…I’m sorry. Can we talk about this somewhere more private?” As you said this, you saw Gerard out of the corner of your eye, looking over at the two of you, his eyebrows furrowed. Gerard was hard to miss these days, with his bright red hair.

Frank nodded and you let him take your hand and pull you away from everyone else. Once you’d stopped walking, he held your hand in his still, loose enough that you could let go if you wanted to, but tight enough that you could sense that Frank didn’t want to let you go.

He sighed. “Look, I--I’m sorry if I scared you off that night when I called you onstage, but I just--I wanted to show you how special you are to me and how much I like you, I just didn’t really know how. I didn’t plan on kissing your cheek, it just happened, so if you’ve been avoiding me because of that, I’m so sorry. I never want to make you uncomfortable and I want you to know that we’ll do whatever you want. If you want to pretend this never happened, we can do that, if you want to leave tour--”

You’d been listening to him ramble, your heart fluttering in your chest as he said everything you’d hoped to hear from him, but when he mentioned you leaving tour, you had to stop him. “Frank, I don’t wanna leave tour.”

His face lit up with a cautious sort of hope. “You don’t?”

You shook your head, offering him a small smile. “No, I don’t.”

He sighed in relief. “Thank God. So what is it then? I miss you and I want us to be good again.”

You sighed. “I like you too. I like you so much that it scares me. A-and I could tell you liked me too and that scared me even more.”

He frowned. “Why? You never have to be afraid of me, you know that.”

You bit your lip. “I know. It’s not that. It’s just that…you know I’m not very experienced when it comes to this kind of thing. And I’m insecure that I’ll screw it up, or that I won’t be good at…you know.” You trailed off, blushing furiously.

His full lips curved in a slight smile, his hazel eyes full of warmth and love for you. “Y/N, you’re going to be amazing, because you’re amazing. But we can slow things down, I can…I can back off a little if that’s what you need.”

You nodded. “Not too far back though,” you whispered, smiling slightly.

He reached his hand out to yours, linking your pinky with yours. The simple, gentle touch felt amazing.

“Better?” He asked, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded, reaching up with your other hand to brush his hair out of his face. It had grown down to his shoulders and you loved the way it looked, even when it obscured his beautiful eyes. “Thanks, Frank.”

He smiled. “Of course.”

The two of you took things slow over the next few months. Frank was unendingly patient with you, which made you feel brave enough to progress your relationship. You still worked for him, since it gave the two of you the chance to spend a lot of time together and travel around the world. You loved watching him play music and jump around the stage like a maniac. And after every show, he was yours, and that was all that mattered.