#ray toro imagines

[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!

[partypoisonzz]

we could live forever (if you've got the time) (jet star x reader smut)

Kinktober Day 5: Morning Sex/Comfort Sex

Reader Pronouns: None mentioned but reader has AFAB anatomy

Content:

- Injury recovery/patching up

- Riding

- Sub!Jet

- It's weirdly fluffy, for what it is

Word Count: 2,624

Disclaimer: This explicit story was written by an adult for consumption by other adults only. If you are under 18, please do not read or interact in any way.

-

The first rays of sunlight creep through the cracks in the blinds, creating vague spots of gold on the tile floor. As the morning light dimly illuminates the room, you take note of Jet's face.

You see a myriad of feelings in his darkly-shadowed eyes, all hiding behind a guise of deep concentration.

Exhaustion. Worry. Love.

You shift slightly against his hold. His hand wraps tighter around your wrist, keeping you in place.

"Don't move it." His voice is gentle, despite the authority that the words are supposed to hold. "I think that I've got it more or less sterilized. Let me bandage it, please."

You go still, allowing him to wrap the medical tape around the wound at the top of your shoulder. The pinching of the tape against the already-painful area causes you to stiffen, though you force yourself to relax your muscles. You don't want to make this any harder on Jet.

By the looks of it, he's already struggling quite a bit.

Finally, he stops pulling on the tape. With a sigh, he sits back, wrapping his arms around himself. "Think that's the best I can do."

You look down at your newly bandaged arm. You move your fingers experimentally. Aside from the expected stiffness and the nagging ache, it isn't so bad. Thankfully, it isn't even your dominant arm.

"You did a great job." You turn back towards him, offering a shaky smile. "Thank you."

Jet doesn't say anything. He doesn't even smile back. He simply nods at you.

You frown, looking down at the floor. Your body begs you to lie down and sleep the newly-dawning day away, but you know that isn't an option. Your arm still stings as though the ray has just brushed it.

It hums, you think. Like the feeling of music, pouring through a speaker and through your body.

You think of the Mad Gear and Missile Kid concert that you attended a few weeks ago. The music seemed to become a part of you, coursing through your veins just as your blood did. You felt electric, every part of you buzzing and alive.

It was that feeling that inspired you to rush the stage and take a leap of faith back into the crowd. You allowed the sea of ragtag 'Joys to carry you from the front of the room to the back. Your journey finally stopped when you felt strong arms wrapping around your waist and lowering you to the ground again, a familiar voice pleading over the music for you to be a little more careful, please.

You rolled your eyes, shouting that you were just fine, Jet.

Without him saying a word, you can tell that Jet is worried sick right now. Deep down, you know that's not all there is to it. The wound isn't all that bad, really. As a medic, he surely knows this.

Still, you intend to remind him. "Hey."

He lifts his head, giving you a silent, questioning look.

You reach across the space between you with your good arm, holding your hand out to him. Without question, he threads his fingers through yours.

Your shaky smile returns. "I'm gonna be okay, alright?" You run your thumb over his in an attempt at reassurance. "Hell, I could probably go out shooting this afternoon, if you wanted me to..."

Jet shakes his head. "You won't," he insists. "You've gotta rest a bit. Nothing worse than irritating a fresh wound."

You huff out a halfhearted chuckle. "Alright. If you insist."

More than anything, you hope he'll at least try to smile at you, even if he doesn't really mean it. He doesn't even attempt it, his gaze travelling back to the sun-dappled kitchen floor.

You frown. It's starting to look like you're going to have to ask.

"Jet."

He still doesn't look at you. "Hmm?"

"What's eating you?"

"What's eating me?" He lets out a clipped chuckle. "I was up all night, tending to your wound."

A flash of irritation travels through you. You know it probably isn't rational, but hey, you're exhausted. Staunching the bleeding from a fresh raygun wound isn't exactly your idea of a party, either. "Yeah, well..." You attempt to shrug, thinking better of it when you feel that buzzing pain shooting through your nerve endings. "Might be inconvenient, but it kinda comes with the territory of being a medic, doesn't it?"

His face softens, if only slightly. "You know I didn't mean it like that."

"What did you mean, then?"

Jet sighs, pulling his hand away from yours. Irritated as you may be, you can't help but mourn the loss of contact.

"I feel like I failed you," he admits quietly.

You blink. "Failed me?" you echo incredulously. "What are you talking about? You saved my ass."

He shakes his head. "Wouldn't have been anything to save you from if I had been looking out for you in the first place," he says. "I'm the reason you got shot. I owe it to you to patch you up."

"I'm the reason I got shot, Jet," you tell him. That's the truth. "It was a miscalculation on my part. Wrong place, wrong time."

"I saw them coming," Jet continues. "I should have warned you, but then that one got ahold of Kobra, and I..."

"Saved his life," you finish. "And I'm glad that you did. I'd rather have a fucked-up arm than a dead 'Joy on our hands. Plus, if anything happened to their baby brother, Poison just might kill us all."

Jet cringes. "Don't even wanna think about that."

"Exactly." You reach for his hand again. Without hesitating, he takes it.

"Don't beat yourself up," you tell him. "You don't have to protect me all the time. The others need you, too, you know." You move your bad arm again. "Besides, it's nowhere near as bad as it could have been. I got lucky. It barely grazed me."

He gives you a skeptical look. "You were bleeding like it was more than a graze."

"Yeah, but I've got plenty of blood." You laugh. "What difference does losing a little bit make?"

"I don't think that's how it works..."

"Course it is."

"Okay, sure." Finally, he smiles at you. A real, genuine smile that leaves your heart fluttering in your chest.

Through the quiet of the kitchen, he meets your eyes and makes a confession. "I'm just glad that you're okay," he murmurs. "I couldn't stand to lose you."

Your chest tightens. You squeeze his hand. "You aren't going to lose me." You say it decisively, like there's no question in it whatsoever. Even though the world has long since gone to hell, you refuse to believe that such a statement may not be true.

"It's going to be you and me, Jet," you promise him. "Forever."

Despite the exhaustion and worry that seem to have become him, his face lights up. "That sounds pretty damn good to me."

You chuckle, leaning in closer to him.

As soon as his lips meet yours, you feel your tension beginning to melt away, as if this was what you needed all along. The humming pain in your arm fades into the background as you kiss him. Once of his hands wrap around your waist, causing you to sigh into his mouth.

After everything that you went through the day before, kissing Jet as the sun rises feels like sweet relief. A promise that everything just might be okay, after all. Reassurance that you've made it to see another day. Together.

Jet pulls back in surprise as you straddle his lap.  "What are you—"

"Shh." You press a kiss against his stubbled jaw, running a hand over his chest before your lips trail down his neck.

"It's still early," you mutter against his skin after a series of kisses. "Nobody else will be up for a while. We have time."

The fact that his hard-on is pressing against your thigh tells you that he probably won't shoot you down. Still, it doesn't surprise you when he asks: "What about your arm?"

You giggle against his neck before pulling back, meeting his eyes. "What about it?"

He scoffs. "C'mon. I know that has to hurt." He gives you that look of concern that you know so well. You resist rolling your eyes. "I don't really think that laying on the floor will help very much..."

"Won't be much of a problem if I'm not the one on my back, right?"

Your hand ghosts over his thigh, — so close to where he needs you.

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. "Fuck," he mutters, running a hand through his dark curls. "I guess not."

"That's what I thought." You lean back in, kissing him quickly before pulling back. "Now, do you want me to ride you or suck you off?"

"Fuck," he says again, voice already shaking. You bite back your smirk. Even after all this time, it still mystifies you just how desperate you can make him in such little time. "Want you to ride me. Please."

In an unfitting gesture of innocence, you lean in to kiss his cheek. "Your wish is my command, baby," you purr. You press your hands against his chest, pushing him towards the floor. "Isn't this something? You get a reward for being the best nurse in the world."

You reach down to undo his jeans, laughing as his hips buck against your touch. "There's not a patient bone in your body."

"Don't have the time to be patient." He stares up at you as you stand up just long enough to get rid of your pants and underwear. As soon as you begin to position yourself over him again, his hands return to your waist.

You love his hands more than anything. They're gentle most of the time, but strong. Capable.

You sigh as he reaches under the worn fabric of your shirt, stroking along your side with his thumb. "I need you now," he says. "Please."

Your head spins for reasons you can't chalk up to sleep deprivation or blood loss. "So pretty when you beg," you remark, reaching down to tug down his boxers. You hover over him for a moment, smiling wickedly down at him. "You want this pussy, baby?"

"Mmm... Uh-huh." His fingers dig into your hips. "Please. Need it."

"Well. Since you asked so nicely..." You lower yourself onto his cock. Your breath hitches as you sink down on him.

Though you intended to continue teasing him, you lose your composure for a moment. Having him inside of you just feels so right. You fit together like you were made for each other. You know that sounds sappy and crazy, but you're exhausted, and so glad to be alive. Alive, and on the floor of the diner, on top of the only man you've ever loved. The only man you will ever love.

"Fuck, Jet," you curse, lifting your hips before slamming down against him again.

He lets out a breathy moan, his hands beginning to wander. He clumsily pulls your tattered, bloodstained shirt over your head, tossing it aside haphazardly. His hands travel upwards to knead your tits.

You toss your head back, letting out a loud moan as the early morning sun warms the bare skin of your back.

"Shh," Jet hushes you. "Everybody else is still asleep." Paying no mind to his own warning, his thumbs brush over your nipples, inspiring another squeak.

"Kinda hard to keep quiet when you, — fuck, — feel like this," you manage. You're riding him faster now, rocking your hips down against him at a frantic pace. "You always make me feel so fucking good, Jet. Drives me insane."

"Yeah, well... The feeling's mutual." He laughs under his breath, only for another high-pitched moan to break up from his throat. "Fuck..."

You look down at his face, illuminated by the golden morning light. Dark brown curls, fanned out around his head. Skin, evenly tanned from countless days spent under the often-unforgiving California sun. Warm eyes the color of black coffee, looking up at you with all the adoration and pleading that you've seen expressed towards the Zones' elusive deities.

His head tilts back, exposing his throat as he lets out a chain of unintelligible pleas.

He is so fucking beautiful, sprawled out on the cold tile. You can hardly believe that he's real, let alone that he's yours.

You ride him harder, looking down at his pleasure-clouded expression with deep concentration. Every sound that he makes feels like a reward. You would do just about anything to hear those noises.

You gasp as you feel one of his hands trailing down your body. It stops between your legs.

Your own sounds of pleasure grow louder as he rubs quick circles against your clit, matching the rhythm that you've set.

The building heat in the pit of your stomach causes your movements to fall out of time. "Jet," you manage. "Jet... Holy fucking shit, gonna come..."

"Yeah?" His voice is all breathy again, high-pitched as he spurs you on. "Gonna come all over me?"

"Mmm-hmm." Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as your rhythm becomes unsteady. The warmth spreads throughout your lower abdomen, stretching like a rubber band, preparing to snap.

Finally, you tighten around him, crying out as you come. As you begin to pulse against him, Jet throws his head back, coming inside of you with a deep groan.

The whole diner seems to go silent in the afterglow. You swear you can hear a tumbleweed rolling around outside. Then again, that might be your sleep-deprived delirium talking.

You feel even more worn out now than you did earlier, which is really no surprise. You just used up the last bit of your energy, riding Jet as though your life depended on it. You can't think of any better way to completely drain yourself after a stressful, sleepless night.

Jet looks up at you, panting. "Well, damn."

You smile, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. "Damn is right." You run your hand affectionately across his cheek as you pull away. "Thanks, babe. I feel much better now."

You stand up, letting him slip out of you. Jet releases a slight whine at the separation.

You reach for your discarded clothes, pulling your underwear on as you feel his come beginning to trickle out of you. As unpleasant as you know it will feel later, you can't exactly be bothered to do anything about it.

"Hell, at this point I could probably take on the world," you continue, tugging on your pants. You grin as you pull your shirt back on. "Think I'll start by making breakfast."

"No, you will not," Jet insists as he straightens his own clothes. He stands up and walks over to you, throwing his arms around your waist.

"I will be making breakfast," he murmurs in your ear. "You will be going to my cot and resting for a while."

Though every atom of you cries out to lie down on a semi-soft surface, you can't help but tease him with a dramatic sigh. "That isn't an optional thing, is it?"

"Nope." He leans in to kiss your cheek, a coil of his hair tickling your skin. "You're going to actually take the time to heal over these next few days. I'm gonna make sure of it."

You chuckle. "Helllooooo, nurse," you quip as he releases you from his hold.

Before you head up the hall, you look up at him with a smile. "It's a new day," you tell him. "And it's gonna be a better one than yesterday."

Jet beams at you. "It already is."

-

Taglist (Ask to be included!): @mysunfishpeedinmyroom @xocasper @clichedlovers @yachiiko @house-of-wh0res

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

Tree - Ray Toro x Reader

Prompt: T: Tree (How do they decorate their tree?) (from this list) Reader: can be read as any gender (no pronouns used) Word Count: 1 293 Warnings: I just read this again and it’s really, really sweet, sickeningly. Also: if you want tomorrow’s story to hit even harder, please pay attention to how easily Ray and Reader communicate their feelings. This has been a warning.

You knew Ray was full of surprises, but nothing could have prepared you for how important it was to him to decorate the Christmas tree together. The two of you had been dating for not even a year, making this your first Christmas together, and a few months ago, you had moved in with him. It had been a decision some of your friends had called rushed, but it was way cheaper than your flat, Ray had offered, and secretly neither of you felt all too keen on spending the precious spare time you had with getting from one apartment to the other. Even though it had been a bit scary, the usual anxieties taking over like whether you would be able to stand sharing a living space with each other, how your daily routines would clash and so on, living with Ray had been as good as perfect, and you did not regret your choice for one second.

It was a Sunday morning in early december, when the sound of a crash woke you up. Irritated, you sat up, blinking into the twilight of the room. The bed beside you was empty, and a second crash, followed by muffled cursing made you suspect Ray was already up and about.

Slipping out of bed and grabbing one of Ray’s hoodies from where it hung over a chair, slipping it on, you poked your head out of the bedroom door. The continuing noise of clattering mixed with quiet cursing, originated in the living room, and once you pushed the door open far enough to see inside, you were no longer surprised as to why Ray was swearing. But you were surprised at the sight before you.

It seemed definitely impossible, but Ray had managed to carry a Christmas tree inside, which was almost as tall as the ceiling was high. All by himself. Right now he was struggling to keep the tree in its stand, every time it threatened to tilt, a new curse quietly falling off his lips.

Once you had overcome your initial surprise at the huge tree in the middle of the living room, you ran over to Ray, quickly grabbing the tree that seemed on its best way to fall on top of your boyfriend.

“Which way do you need me to tilt the tree,” you asked, glancing down at Ray who was crouched on the ground. His hair was dishevelled and from his body language alone you could tell he was focusing.

Through hesitating comments Ray wished you a good morning, and just a few minutes later, the tree stood safe and tall, its top twig almost scratching the ceiling.

Standing side by side with Ray, you inspected your work. You couldn’t help but feel like you imagined these children in the picture books to feel at the sight of such a huge tree. Respect, awe, but also giddy. 

“Good morning, again,” Ray whispered, sneaking his arm around your waist and pulling you in for a short kiss.

You repeated the words against his lips before he pulled away. Only now you properly realised, that he was still wearing his winter jacket, and on the sofa lay his hat.

“How about you make us some hot chocolate and I go fetch the decorations,” Ray suggested.

“Don’t you want to have breakfast first,” you asked, confused, but he shook his head.

“We’re gonna have a Christmas Tree decorating breakfast. With hot chocolate and cookies… If that’s okay for you?”

Even if he had not asked, you would not have refused his wish. Something in his voice made it very clear how important this was to him. Not important because he wanted to do it, but because it meant something to him emotionally. You were not entirely sure what it was, but the thought of rejecting his wish would have felt equal to breaking his heart. Besides: Christmas Tree decorating breakfast sounded pretty awesome.

While you made hot chocolate in the kitchen, Ray carried the decorations into the living room. It seemed the stuff he owned was mostly classical red and gold, baubles in those colours, a few wooden figurines. And a tiny spider man bauble. When you spotted it, it made you laugh, but you figured it would have been unlike Ray if not a little joke like that would have been hidden somewhere.

Ray also seemed to have bought gingerbread, because when you carried the cups into the living room, the box was ripped open, and he had placed a few gingerbreads on plates for both of you.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Ray had put on some Christmas music, not the modern one, but old orchestra music, now playing from vinyl. While you put up the baubles, you always took a sip of hot chocolate in between or a bite from the gingerbread. Although a lot of the time also was used by Ray to pull you in for sweet kisses. In fact it seemed like he always tried to keep a hand at you, on your waist, your hand, your forearm…

The gestures made your heart dance, and you were absolutely certain this had to be the most romantic Christmas Tree decorating anyone had ever done.

Once you were finished, you sat on the sofa, looking at the now sparkling tree. Ray had strung Christmas lights with tiny bulbs into the twigs, and now that they were turned on, they looked like hundreds of small fairies making the tree glow.

Your head was resting against Ray’s chest, the two of you cuddled together on the sofa, as your eyes were fixed on the tree, the cups, long empt, standing on the side table.

“I’ve always dreamt about decorating the tree like this,” Ray whispered, breaking the comfortable silence. 

Questioningly you tilted your head to look at him.

“Back at home it was always fun, but also loud and we would constantly bicker about what should go up on the tree and what else we needed to buy and whatnot…”

By the way he trailed off, you could tell there was more to the story. Encouragingly you ran your fingers in uneven patterns over his shirt.

“And then when I was living on my own, I saw all these couples who always celebrated Christmas together, while I was alone, or on tour, and… it sounds pitiful, but I just wondered if I'd ever have something like that. So I wanted this to be fun today.”

“It’s not pitiful,” you disagreed. “It’s understandable. I definitely felt the same, you know? I think everybody feels that way sometimes. But-,” you leant up, so you could take a better look at Ray’s face, “I think today was the most magical, most christmas-y, most romantic morning i ever could have imagined. And I feel very happy and very privileged to have spent it with you. Thank you.”

Leaning down to him, you sweetly kissed his lips, feeling as his eyes fluttered shut and he released a shaky breath. Knowing that even after months of dating he still reacted like this sometimes to something as simple as a short peck on the lips, made your heart dance happily.

“You know that I love you, right,” Ray asked, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling you back on top of him. “So much.”

Burying your nose against his neck, his long hair brushing over your face, you nodded. “I love you, too. So much.”

And while the lights on the christmas tree continued sparkling, specks of red and gold dancing through the living room where the lights reflected off the baubles, Spider Man keeping watch over the tree from a high twig, you slowly dozed off in Ray’s arms.

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

[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]

[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

[suburbanblkgirll]

I LITERALLY CANNOT FIND THE TWEET ANYMORE but someone posted how their grandma brought their sibling skibidi toilet merch and grandma was like “I brought you skibidi toilet merch!! 😊” and all im thinking about is how that’s literally Jet Star and Missile Kid NDJSJANSJAAJ

[frnkier0]

masterlist ★

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

Question - Ray Toro x Reader

Prompt: Q: Question (How do they confess? Is it the big question, or something smaller but just as intimate?)(from this list) Reader: can be read as any gender (no pronouns used) Word count: 2 138

Tiredly you ran your hand over your face. The brightness of the computer screen was already tuned to the lowest setting, you had a small lamp burning in the background and most of the software’s design was dark anyway, but still your eyes hurt terribly. A glance at the clock confirmed your suspicion that it was not only the screen brightness that hurt your eyes, but also the amount of time you had spent staring it at.

You had been here since the early morning, only doing a lunch break around noon, and a coffee break around five, when the band had left. My Chem was working on another album and as their trusted assistant they had asked you to help with… well basically everything. Before ever having worked with them you had gathered experience with mixing and producing music, tour booking, promotion and and and, although most of it had been for smaller, local bands.

It had been Ray who had suggested you should be given more freedom in the things you wanted to work at for them. So after having spent the entire day in their company, helping them mix the tracks, you had settled back into your small office in the production company, beginning with the design for the covers. The cover art had been chosen weeks ago, but now title, band name and all the writing needed to be added. It was as much fun as it was nerve wracking.

Just when you had finished adding one text, and zoomed out, you found it looked awful and went back to changing everything again. But now, at almost 2am, you were ready to give up. At least for now. Anything you changed now, was just likely to look awful tomorrow- well, later today.

Saving the current file under a new name, you turned off the computer and grabbed your jacket from the hanger next to the door, before turning the small lamp in the corner off as well.

The lights in the corridor outside flickered to life as you left the office, blinding you momentarily. Groaning at the brightness, you blinked, trying to get used to the lights as well as trying to get rid of the tiredness so you could drive home.

Ray would absolutely give you shit for staying so late at the office again. He always told you, you needed to take better care of yourself, and every time he did, you ignored the fluttering in your chest, instead arguing that you worked best this way, just like he would sometimes not step out of his office for three days straight.

It was a recurring pattern: both of you working without proper breaks and the other getting protective, reminding each other how important breaks were. At the same time, you both understood that you had these creative phases in which you had to work lest you wanted to go mad. But that rational understanding did not mean your heart did not flutter every time Ray reminded you to take good care of yourself.

It was all too easy to imagine he had some personal interest in you being well, even when you knew that in reality he just needed you to be healthy so you could work for the band as effectively as possible. Besides: why should someone like him take interest in you? You were the person in the background. Best case scenario? Nobody noticed you were even there. That meant you had done your job flawlessly. That the band constantly noticed you and tried to involve you in their work was a bigger compliment than you felt you deserved. But Ray was still the guitarist of one of the biggest bands currently around, loved by fans and worshipped by critics. He was certainly one of the kindest men you had ever met, not to mention one of the most talented and most hard working as well. Even if he were looking for a relationship, he most certainly would not look for it with you.

Still you could not blame yourself for falling for him. Anyone with at least a half-way decent taste in men would. And now that winter had wrapped its cold, dark fingers around the city, you just could not help but secretly dream about cuddling into Ray’s side and holding his hand. He always looked so warm, with his long hair, his soft eyes, his gentle smile. He could be the biggest goof, the craziest little nerd you had ever met, but his rambles were endearing and his jokes always made you laugh without fail.

Tiredly, lost in thoughts about Ray and about how much you wanted him to like you back, you shuffled to the back door of the studio. You had your hand already on the handle, when suddenly you perked up. From one of the control rooms faint music sounded out into the corridor. Irritated, you stopped. You had been absolutely certain you were the last one in the building, after all it was in the middle of the night. Walking back, you tried to identify the room the music sounded from, and stopped in front of one of the control rooms. The ‘recording’-light was turned off, so you listened to the gentle plucking of guitar strings for a moment before you pressed down the handle of the door and pushed the door open just far enough to poke your head in.

In the dim, orange light of a small reading lamp, you were able to make out a man sitting on the floor, long, curly hair reaching past his shoulders, guitar in his lap.

At the sound of the door opening, he stopped and turned around.

“I thought you had gone home with the others,” you inquired, raising your eyebrows at Ray.

“I did…” he confessed, unfolding his long legs, and getting up from where he had been sitting. “And then I couldn’t stop thinking so I came back.”

“I heard you play something new,” you noted. “Are you planning to add onto the new album?”

“Not really… it’s just something I’ve had stuck in my head for a long time,” Ray rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, holding his guitar in the other. “I wanted to get it out of my system before I forget it.”

You were burning to know what he had been working on, but if the past years of working with him had taught you anything, it was that he shared his music once he was ready to do so. Anything before that usually ended up making him feel incredibly uncomfortable, and you were more than happy to respect his boundaries.

“Well, in that case…” you trailed off. “Just don’t stay too long. Even you need a few hours of sleep every now and then. Good night Ray.”

You were already back out of the room, the door almost closed when he suddenly called for you.

Confused, you stopped and pushed the door back open, raising your eyebrows at him.

“What’s up?”

“I-“

Ray stared at you wide eyed, his left foot tapping a quick, even rhythm, his fingers clenching and unclenching around the neck of the guitar; safe signs that he was stressed and nervous. You hated when he did that. Not because it annoyed you, but because it made you feel so helpless. In these moments there was nothing you could do to help him feel less nervous, and right now you seemed to be the cause of his nervousness.

Tilting your head at him inquisitively, you encouraged him wordlessly to keep talking. He swallowed thickly before speaking again.

“I- it’s just… I don’t really know how to say it.”

“Whatever it is, you know you can be honest with me. I promise you that I won’t be mad, okay? You can just say it. I don’t need fancy words.”

“It’s not something you’ve done,” sighed Ray, averting his eyes for a moment, before looking back up to you. “No fancy words needed?”

“No fancy words needed,” you reaffirmed.

“I like you. To be honest, I’ve liked you for so long I don’t even know how long anymore. And I don’t think it’s just liking either. It’s so much more and so much stronger than that.”

Completely dumbfounded you stared at Ray. The light behind his back lit up his hair like a halo and the white light falling in from the corridor made it look like he was standing in a spotlight.

“I thought I was good at hiding it, but the other day the guys said they’d known for ages too, and that I should just be honest with you, so here’s me being honest. If it makes things weird, I’m sorry, but I think there’s not much use in hiding it anymore. You probably already knew either way.”

“I- I didn’t. Didn’t know, I mean,” you answered, once Ray had stopped speaking, making him groan quietly as if he regretted his confession already. “But it doesn’t have to make things weird.”

Quickly you fully stepped into the small room, closing the door to the corridor behind you, shutting out the cold, white lights.

“I like you, too,” you clarified. “I just never thought you’d feel remotely the same.”

Ray groaned again. “I thought you knew and were trying to discreetly tell me you’re not interested.”

“You mean I wasn’t painfully obvious about my feelings for- wait. Ray, hold on. You thought I wasn’t interested in you and still straight up just- confessed?”

Your heart ached at the thought. How much courage had it taken him to do that?

“Yeah, I mean… I needed to be sure, once and for all,” he admitted, still awkwardly clenching and unclenching his fingers around the guitar neck.

“I’m glad you did…”

For a moment both of you stood facing each other, not really sure what to do or say now that your feelings had been revealed.

“Uhm, I know this might seem a bit useless since you already know how I feel for you but uhm… I’d really like to take you out some time, for dinner or something. Or like… I don’t know. It’s silly,” Ray stuttered. He barely ever stuttered, which just proved that he was still terribly nervous.

“It’s not silly, and I’d love to,” you quickly answered, glad he had been the first one to ask.

“Really,” Ray smiled happily at you. “When- when would you like to?”

You shrugged, glancing around the room.

“I don’t know… are you gonna stay here for a while and play or are you going to go home soon?”

“I was about to head out… What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that I’ve waited a very long time to go out with you and don’t really want to wait a few days just because society thinks meaningful dates have to be at 8pm. And that there’s a diner that’s open 24/7 just around the corner…”

Ray’s grin grew wider, and quickly he placed the guitar in its stand.

“I’ll just grab my jacket,” he told you, heading towards the door in front of which you were still standing.

Stopping right in front of you, he looked at you for a moment, before he quickly leant over and pressed a short peck to the corner of your lips. His warm skin on yours, his chapped lips, both rough and soft at the same time, made your heart rate spike and heat shoot to your cheeks, the spot where he had touched you tingling.

“Thank you,” he whispered, before stepping around you and through the door into the corridor, where the white lights flickered to life once more.

“What for?” You called after him as he jogged towards the break room where he had left his jacket on a sofa.

“Accepting me.”

He shouted back over his shoulder, leaving you to furrow your brows in confusion.

You were afraid that whatever he had meant by that would need some discussion in the future. After all, you knew how insecure he could be at times and if there was one thing you were certain of, it was that he never would have to be or should be insecure about your feelings for him.

You had barely finished the thought, when Ray already reappeared, fighting to slip into his jacket. By the time he had reached you, he had managed to tuck both sleeves over his wrists, and zip the jacket closed.

“Let’s go,” he decided, surprising you by taking your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. Shyly you closed your fingers around his bigger hand and smiled to yourself. When Ray saw your expression, he chuckled. “Trust me, when I tell you you’re not the only one who has waited far too long for this.”

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