#ray toro/reader

[mychemstat]

passenger- ray toro

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“no, do you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

fuck, not now, you scolded yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what you need is to get lai-”

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

oh, right. the show.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

was he ever just your friend?

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

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

huh, you weren’t completely blameless.

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

three hours until you had to see him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

well, fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you liked lying to yourself.

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

and you did not care for it.

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

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

and you loathed yourself for it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ignored it.

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

then, ray spilled beer on his pants.

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

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

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

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

“it’s that bad, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you need to tell him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

huh?

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

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

what. the. fuck.

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

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

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

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

-you were going with him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

fuck. fuckity fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it was time, “g told me, you know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your heartbeat quickened.

“...for so damn long.”

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

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

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

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

_________________

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

[fangirlinc]

HELP WANTED! Where/when is this photo from?

The origins of this Gerard Way photo have alluded me too long. I’ve seen it all over Pinterest and tumblr and I’ve scoured the internet and My Chemical Romance archives and cannot find it.

Posted my query on Reddit but no one knew on there either. Some assumptions about it being pre-2004(due to haircut, proximity, and possible booger sugar nosebleed). Could also NOT be a live performance photo. I’m desperate for My Chemical Romance experts to help me in my quest PLEASE HEAR MY PLEAS.

I’m gonna tag some of my favorite My Chemical Romance archive/expert blogs that I love so so dearly <3. Please tag more in the comments if you guys have any more blogs that have expert knowledge!

@earlycuntsets <3

@callmeblake <3

@mcroutfits <3

@mcrchivemedia <3

(Love y’all)

[horroribledeath]

Imagine you die and this is what you see

[s1ushyz]

'Tis the season for some festive red hair gerard!

[girlofthesunxoxo]

are you mine now ? | mikey way

synopsis : mikey way and y/n had a pretty serious rivalry going on which always made things tense when they were together with the band. but what happens when the boys purposely put them in the same hotel room for a night ?

note : decided to make this at four in the morning ! with a migraine and fantasy in mind !😉 also this may not be completely realistic lololol

includes. handjob (male receiving), no actual smut (sorry) kissing, making out (😭) and i think that’s all.

*******************

none of the fans knew of the feud mikey way and y/n had. or had they suspected it. the only ones who knew were their closest friends / bandmates and they had disregarded it as silly bickering or as frank liked to call it, “weird flirting tactics.” but both mikey and y/n knew it was more than that.

mikey, at first had no problem with y/n, that was until she pointed out something he was a little insecure about. and from then on, he just assumed she was a bitch. disregarding whatever his bandmates said trying to convince him saying, “she really is a nice girl but they just got off on the wrong foot.”

y/n just loved getting under mikeys skin. sure, some might call her a bitch because of that but it was just so fun. when y/n pointed out that little habit mikey did, she didnt do it out of bad intention. she literally had a crush on the boy at first and she felt terrible that he took the remark as an insult. she had tried to apologize but he would just ignore her and whenever he did talk to her, it was to criticize her about something. and from then on, his title of “her crush” was long forgotten about and was replaced with “her enemy” as childish as it may seem.

after a concert where everybody was exhausted, they headed towards the hotel. during the ride there, gerard, ray and frank sent each other nervous glances while y/n looked at them weirdly.

“why are y’all looking at each other that way ?”

they stayed silent besides frank who smirked and scooted closer to her, “say, you dont care who you room with, right ?” making her even more confused.

“i literally dont care as long as i get some sleep.”

frank just looked at gerard and ray before throwing his arm over y/n’s shoulder. he sighed and smiled as if he knew something she didnt. y/n rolled her eyes and rested her head on franks shoulder trying to get some sleep before they get to the hotel.

mikey noticed them and clenched his jaw while rolling his eyes. something that did not go unnoticed by ray who nudged gerards arm and mumbled something he couldnt hear.

they finally stopped at the hotel, mikey being the first one out but not before “accidentally” stepping on y/n’s shoe making her jolt awake. “ow !” which mikey only responded with a mumbled, “whoops.” y/n bit her tongue as to not say anything. frank chuckled as he led her into the hotel.

“hello !”

the receptionist politely nodded her head in greeting to ray. y/n dozed off on the hotels couch next to gerard as frank, ray and mikey got the room keys. she only awoke when she heard a loud, “what” coming from mikey as he looked over at her.

she and gerard walked towards the rest of the group as mikey eyed y/n. “what happened ?” she questioned as everybody stayed silent until ray broke the silence, “you and mikey are rooming together…” he trailed off, waiting for a reaction.

y/n only pursed her lips and muttered a quiet, “great.” anybody could tell that was sarcasm which made mikey scoff.

y/n didnt care that she was rooming with mikey. she really didnt. okay, maybe a little but only because of her small crush on the boy. even through all the insults hes thrown at her, she still harbored feelings for him. which only angered her more.

she took the key card out of his hand and made her way over to the elevator. she noticed he wasnt following her instead glaring at his brother and friends. “im going to lock you out if you dont hurry up, mikey.”

he finally looked at her and quickly walked inside the elevator with her and as the doors closed, she caught a glimpse of the boys snickering.

she could not even begin to explain how awkward she felt alone with him in that elevator. not only was it small, it was also really hot. she could only hope it wasnt too hot in the room. she also hoped mikey couldnt see the blush rising to her cheeks as she felt his shoulders brush against hers and their fingers would lightly tap each other.

after what felt like an eternity, the doors finally opened and she quickly walked towards their room as mikey slowly followed after her. she unlocked the door and held it open for mikey before laying down on the bed and letting out a sigh.

“we’re both going to be adults and share the bed, right ? because im really not in the mood to fight with you, mikey.”

she felt the bed dip beside her and opened her eyes to see mikey nod. after gathering her pajamas, which just consisted of a shirt and little shorts because as expected, it was slightly hot in the room. she made her way towards the shower as mikey laid on the bed waiting for her to finish.

when y/n returned from her well needed shower, she noticed mikeys eyes trail over her body before he blushed and quickly walked over to the bathroom.

it was only a couple of minutes before she saw him exit the bathroom with a towel in his hand as he rubbed it against his hair. shamelessly, she watched with butterflies in her stomach, a light blush on her cheeks and a tingling sensation in her core.

she couldnt believe she getting turned on by mikey way drying his hair.

she shook her head before moving her gaze to the book she brought and began reading. mikey returned to his space on the bed, laying next to her on his side facing her. she could feel eyes on her but she couldnt bring herself to look at him. she was already feeling hot and she was sure if she made eye contact with him, she would turn into a tomato and explode everywhere. thats how much of a crush she still has on him.

but she decided it was worth the risk of exploding so she turned her head towards him which caught him off guard causing him to cough lightly and try to look somewhere else.

“mikey ?”

“hm ?”

“why…why dont you like me ?”

mikey turned to see her pout and slightly furrowed eyebrows as she asked him a simple question.

a simple question that left him speechless. he didnt necessarily not like her. she just made him upset. really upset, sometimes. hell, at first he had a huge crush on her. but he tossed his feelings aside during the beginning of their “rivalry” because he was afraid she didnt feel the same way.

“i…i.” he couldnt finish his sentence.

y/n only nodded before putting her book on the beside table and turning off the lamp next to it. she tried not to let it affect her as she turned over so she wasnt facing him anymore. seriously, he has said much worse in the past but actually hearing him not able to say anything stung worse than the insults.

“wait, y/n.”

he turned his bedside lamp on so only his side of the room was lit up in dim lighting. she turned around and sat up so she was facing him, he exhaled a breath before explaining himself.

“i dont actually hate you… i just - i just thought you didnt like me because of what you said when we first talked.”

“gerard told me you took it in that way but i seriously didnt mean it in a bad way. i actually kind of thought it was cute and meant it as a compliment but then you started insulting me so i gave up on trying to talk to you. but i am sorry it seemed i meant it in a bad way.”

she finally apologized which caused a weight to be lifted off her shoulders.

mikey felt horrible. knowing the girl he had a crush on didnt insult him and actually found him cute and that he misunderstood the whole thing was so embarrassing. he could feel himself grow red as he covered his face with his hands.

y/n furrowed her eyebrows before moving in front of him and taking his hands from his face.

“whats wrong ?”

“i feel so embarrassed. this whole ‘rivalry’ happened because i misunderstood a simple compliment. im so sorry, y/n.

y/n lightly chuckled before holding his hands and lifting his chin with her other hand so he was looking at her.

“its okay. at least we’re friends now, right ?”

mikey smiled before nodding his head. he looked into her eyes before he glanced at her lips causing her to blush for what felt like the millionth time in the last couple of hours. she could feel her whole body heat up before feeling an ache between her legs.

“can i kiss you ?”

she didnt even think when she said those words. mikey was caught off guard as his eyes widened but he quickly nodded his head. she instantly leaned forward and met his lips, it was a soft kiss that only lasted a couple of seconds before she pulled away. it was as if she could see mikeys eyes sparkling before he pulled her back into another kiss.

this one more heated and intense than the first as she wrapped her arm around his neck and started lightly tugging on his hair while her other hand was caressing his blushed cheek. after a particularly harsh tug, he groaned and she pulled away to apologize but the whine that came out of his mouth told her to do otherwise.

mikey tugged on her shirt and she quickly pulled it off before doing the same for mikey. she gently pushed him down on the bed before climbing on top of him and sitting down on his clothed erection. they kissed sloppily and with a few breathy giggles, they finally broke away once reality began to set in.

“are you sure you want to do this ?” y/n had never been more sure of anything in her life.

“of course. do you want this, mikey ?”

“god yes, please.” mikey felt so desperate that he was willing to beg on his knees just for anything to happen.

y/n trailed her hand down mikeys stomach to his thighs, completely ignoring where he wants her to touch him the most at. he whines against her lips when he feels her nails trail up and down his thighs, teasing him and he could feel himself growing harder by the second. he was starting to feel impatient so he grabbed her hand and placed it on his clothed dick, he moaned slightly from the pressure she was putting on it.

she rubbed his dick a few more times before pulling his sweatpants and underwear down, she glanced at mikeys flushed face and back down to his dick which was leaking a little pre-cum. he wasnt too big and he wasnt too small, which came as a relief to y/n. nobody wants to feel like they’re getting split in half.

she gently wrapped a hand around his hardened dick and stroked a few times, she heard his whines and moans and could see his stomach tensing as she stroked faster.

he quickly put his hand over hers and stopped her from continuing.

“what, whats wrong ? do you want to stop ?” her concern evident in her hurried voice.

“nonono, its not that !! i just dont want to c-cum too fast.” he said, looking anywhere but her.

she softly giggled while slowly continuing her movements, “awww you dont want to cum so soon ?”

he only nodded in response while letting out small moans.

“dont worry baby, i want to make you feel good.”

[2therazor]

hi :))) ive been craving content about basement era gee x reader

imagine him being just the sweetest nerd in the world experiencing love for the first time <3 so dear

could you write something about that? :)

maybe ill turn this into a full blown fic sometime but for now here’s some of my hcs >:)

- i just imagine he would be so awkward, especially when it comes to approaching people

- he probably had a few classes with you and was too nervous to even say anything but the second you said something to him he was so excited because he wouldn’t have been the initiator

- I feel like once you start to get to know each other he’d be so much more talkative, like was that even the same kid who sat next to you in your still life drawing class? and was he always this fucking cool?

- one day after class you saw him waiting for you by the door and he had finally gained the courage to ask you to “hang out” or yknow… pretty much a date, and you would happily oblige

-after a few coffee dates you quickly became inseparable, it was so nice to have someone that was so easy to talk to and shared the same interests as you

-gerard quickly became “gee” and all of your friends would tease you about how giddy you became when you mentioned him

-gerard on the other hand, hadn’t really experienced feelings like these before and quickly began to realize; wow this is love! after days of pondering to his friends, he finally decided to ask you to be his significant other.

-he was always so attentive to you and so kind, which had kind of shocked you due to past (not so great) relationships

-you shared many nights in his parent’s basement in his room listening to countless records and CDs he had piled up on the floor, always finding each other with tangled limbs and shirtless by the morning :)

(holy shit guys I GOTTAAAAA turn this into a fic, just made myself all hot and heavy not gonna lie)

[rdiowx]

MCR + GIDEON GRAVES AUDIO LIST

Mikey

Roommate Ghost mikey

“Watching” scary movies

He’s your popular college friend

Sigh, fucking your friends bother

Gerard

Fucking him, but hes sick

Fucking him, but YOU’RE sick

I think its cold in this audio?

Tired gee 😸

Frank

I think this counts as puppy Frank

Church boy frank

Pretty sure you guys hook up in an alley in this one

Puppy frank 👍🏽

RAY

Incubus Ray!

More demon Ray

Needy ray

HE BAKES!

GIDEON

Now,,why did he start playing angry birds

Is this more somnophilia

G-man has to be his alternate personality

Enemies to lovers😔

Bonus audios i was gonna add but didnt know who for

I was sorta flabbergasted tbh

Even more mythos

Gulp

Alright im done now 🥳

[mcrimagines]

Imagine: the Super Bowel with them.

Frank: Takes you to the big game and you get on the kiss cam, he laughs and says "Nooo me and y/n are just friends" You cry all night.

Mikey: He asks if you want to play your own foot ball and. I'll let you guess what happens next.

Gerard: He does not let you watch. The only superbowl you get is the Pot.

Ray: His team loses and he throws a beer bottle at your head and you have to call your dad and have him take you to the hospital :(.

[sibsteria]

Our lady of sorrows…

Mikey Way x Fem!Reader, Secret!xReader

part two

Warnings/Content: angst, fluff, mentions of abuse, not proofread too much, I think this part is rather lazy with writing so I apologise, part three out soon!

Summary: forgot to mention, this is around 1998-2004 I didn’t wanna put a specific year so I can include a variety of things :) I also don’t want to include things such as Gerard’s alcoholism and drug addiction, personal troubles the boys had, etc. as this is meant to be fiction for fun, any troubles within the story with be fictional and apart of my story. Maybe just maybe Y/n’s ex boyfriend is name dropped in this? Can her and Mikey figure this whole thing out?

1 | 2 | 3

The air that followed was a sting to your skin, a million thoughts a minute, racing against one another. The next step is lost, he remains buried deep inside you, thick swallows and breaths slowing to shallow.

“I’ll uhm-I’m gonna go clean up a little. You wanna take a shower or something?” He slides out and it’s such a bearing feeling, empty, as if he had pulled out the air in your lungs. You fail to notice his hopeful eyes casting down at you when he stood, he was never one with words.

Stupid. Stupid! You are so fucking stupid, Mikey, God. Say something to her….his inner monologue harassing him, desperate to open up his heart.

Yet.

He stood there, mouth dry, head heavy. He was silent, nothing was coming out- something had ripped his voice right from him.

Frustrated and angry at himself, he leaves, a dusty towel from the floor protecting his nudity as he leaves for the bathroom.

Was that it…? Was this a one time thing? Not that you wanted to put that pressure on him but there were no words of comfort or confirmation. Tears bite at your waterline, fighting to escape, no. That’s just embarrassing. The disdain in your heart would never last long- even if your feelings got hurt- your love for him would return right back to how it always was. You couldn’t stop loving him, dreaming of this moment in the past, it was a sure shock to you.

Mikey is fighting with himself in the bathroom, close to tears himself, that’s just embarrassing. Why didn’t he say anything? He knew you were looking at him, watching, waiting for him. Now you probably sat there, confused and most definitely upset. He didn’t want you to think this was nothing because it wasn’t to him, but he just couldn’t say it.

Your throat clenched, you felt like throwing up, and you were sure you weren’t just pulling green.

You had to make a choice, endure this night next to him, lay in darkness. Or do you leave?

He probably wanted you to go, not sparing you a word or a glance, that’s why he’s been gone so long. Just waiting for you to leave.

You begrudgingly make your choice, wiping yourself off with some tissues you found on his nightstand, grabbing your bag and clothes. Thanking above that you still had his shirt on, you slowly crept out, tiptoeing through the silent house. Barefoot at the too of the basement stairs, you knew Gee wouldn’t mind the intrusion, but what’s your reason?

Hey Gee, I fucked your younger brother and can’t bear the awkwardness and heartbreak?

No, that would be for Frankie, later.

You could think about it whilst you tried to sleep, Gee wouldn’t notice you come in.

Still fighting tears, you had manage to creep down into his room, a perfect space for you to slide into bed next to him.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Okay, he could explain when he came back, right? He would apologise and hold you close, all out of any possible excuse he could use. Yes, that’s the plan.

Partly confident, he left the bathroom, using silent breathing exercises to amp himself up.

He pushed open the door, still hearing the stereo playing, he started to speak.

“Y/n- listen…I-“ His breath catches, you weren’t there?

He swallows his heart down his throat, the thought of you leaving had made it launch up. Was he that bad? Oh god, was it him saying nothing? Had he ruined a sure, good thing he could have had?

Had you left the house, completely?

Biting his lip, he didn’t know what to do, did you have your phone today?

He decided nothing could go wrong if he sent you a message.

Where R U? U Ok? We need 2 talk

He hits send, praying for a reply, it wouldn’t be your fault if you had left it in your house but he hoped that wasn’t the case.

Laying in the dimly lit basement, you hear a chime from your bag, you couldn’t sleep anyways.

You sit up, leaning over the side of the bed, swimming your hand in your bag until you felt something that resembled your phone.

You read the message, oh, he was definitely going to break your heart. We need to talk? This was for sure a one time thing.

You sighed quietly, debating a reply.

Talk tmr, nite

You bit your lip and hit send, you really needed to get some sleep.

Yeah, he deserved that response, he thought in his head. He hoped you were safe, he was sure he would have heard the front door if you left?

He better get some sleep, too.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You slept decently despite the fact of all that happened, the comfort that Gee could give, even in a non response state, was a great aid to an ailment.

You were shaken awake, met with questions, as expected.

“Hey, sugar? You awake, yet?” Gee shook your arm.

“Yes, I’m god damn awake.” You groan with a mumble and then giggle as he tickles your nose with a strand of your hair.

“What’ya doing here? Thought you were with Mikes last night?” He questioned, not necessarily suspicious of anything at all.

“Snored too much, couldn’t sleep, y’know.” Impeccable acting from you, this wasn’t exactly a lie, he was like a foghorn most nights. This had happened a couple of times, you’d smack him on the arm a couple times before dipping to sleep with Gerard. A believable stunt you thought of late last night.

“Ah, well, guess I’m the lucky one, my future partner will praise me for my lack of snoring.” He beamed, he totally believed what you said.

“Future partner, my ass. You and Frank will live in a dirty apartment with fourteen cats at fifty.” He knocked his shoulder, before yawning.

He hummed in agreement.

“Well, you will be there with us, I see no romance in your life, missy.” He got you there.

“So true it stings.” You half smiled.

“Whatever happened to your old boyfriend? The one from Chi-“ You cut him off at the mention of your ex, the only other person you could say you had been in love with and probably still in love with. You told Gee about him, and just how amazing that relationship had been, gushing and mourning the loss of a great partner. Of course he was the one you had lost your virginity to, both of you together and unsure, learning with each other and it was perfect.

And the worst part was it wasn’t a terrible breakup, it wasn’t your fault you were forced to move state, it wasn’t your fault you broke your cell phone when you got here- losing his number forever. You remember that night more than you wished to.

And the day you left.

You both cried, hugging, refusing to let each other go on moving day, he promised you would always be the last good thing about that part of town. He was your everything. He was sweet and kind, absolutely adorable. God, you did miss him. But there was no way you would see him again, he probably thought you’d stopped talking to him on purpose- that you didn’t want to see him again. Didn’t love him.

That was way off, but there was no chance he would ever come looking for you after that.

“He definitely doesn’t want to see me.” Forlorn and defeated you lean on Gee’s shoulder.

“We could get married at forty? If we are still miserable souls not having found our match?” He sighs.

“Sounds like a plan, we would have to adopt Frank, of course.”

“Oh, it goes without saying.”

You had been indefinitely cheered up as a couple of hours went by. You had to get up and get ready eventually, the boys were coming round for band practise, and then later you were gonna go into this underground dive bar that Frank and you had been to a couple of times before bringing the guys- and they let in under 21s, letting you guys play there a lot of times, too. You secretly thanked yourself for developing a wardrobe box of sorts in Gee’s room, your best clothing piled inside.

You decided to take off Mikey’s shirt, putting on some comfy clean clothes, you had no idea who out of all of you each piece belonged to but it didn’t matter.

Seeing Mikey was playing on your mind, were you ready to face that mess?

You had no choice, you couldn’t let Gee know anything was up, so you had to.

Trailing after your best friend up the stairs, you peek into the living room, Mikey already sat on the couch- zoning out to the TV.

“Mornin’” Gee greets his brother, his ears perking up, immediately looking to see if you were there. His heart stops when he sees you, god, you looked so beautiful- even after everything last night.

“Hi, Y/n.” He waves, trying his chances.

“H-hey.” You avoid his eyes, darting off to the kitchen to get a glass of water, even treating yourself to some ice.

He fucked up, you couldn’t even look at him.

“I’m gonna’ go out and get some snacks later, want anything?” Mikes turned to his brother.

Gerard mumbles a loose list of items, the usual snack run.

You walk back into the room, standing and sipping your glass, well aware of the tension between Mikey and you. You were almost sweating because of how thick the air is, painful.

“Got it. Y/n, will you come with? Could use a hand or two?” Your eyes widen for a moment, you look between him and Gee. Well, fuck, you can’t say no can you?

“Sure, give me a moment to fix my hair.” You still can’t look at him, running to the closest mirror to tie it up with a hair tie you had found, preparing for the worst.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The walk to the store was silent for a while, neither of you had the guts to speak, until Mikey decides to break it.

He grabs your wrist, ever so gently.

“Y/n. Can we talk?” He doesn’t let go of your wrist, you finally meet his eyes after avoiding it for so long.

“I guess.” You act distant prepared for heartbreak.

“Listen. I know I didn’t say anything last night and I am not gonna’ stand here and make excuses, you don’t deserve that from me. I really don’t know what happened, it’s like I couldn’t speak, nothing would come out. I am so unbelievably sorry if I made you feel like shit, that was not what I wanted, at all.” He wasn’t done but he felt like continuing to ramble an apology would do him worse off, he wanted this to be a conversation.

“Okay…thank you for that. I wasn’t the best either. I left because I thought you didn’t wanna see me, I thought you were waiting for me to leave. Like, when you said nothing and just left, I thought that was it. I guess I just want to know what your feelings are?” You open up, you don’t have the energy to do any less for Mikey.

His feelings? He didn’t even know what they were. He knew he had feelings for you, strong ones. But the definition? No clue at all.

“M-my feelings? Uhm-“ You took a deep breath, here it comes, “I really don’t know, I wish I did. I have feelings for you…I do, really. I just don’t know where we take this from here? I don’t do relationships, I never have, I don’t know where to start, but I know I want you, somehow.” That wasn’t too bad. “I think you are so beautiful and obviously I see you as one of my best friends-“ He is starting to lose you with that.

“Think of it this way. Do you want to date me? Do you want to fuck me? Anything like that springing to mind?” He winces at the word fuck.

“I…I don’t know.”

“Think about it and get back to me. Could I do one last thing?” You don’t know what possesses you, or where you found the courage for this, but it’s better now than never. You would give him something to think about.

“Sure…anything.” Mikey fixes his glasses, as you take a step closer to him.

“Can I kiss you?” Your heart stammers, if this is goodbye to it all, then you want one last kiss.

Mikey doesn’t reply with words, he just nods, his ears turning pink.

You swallow your nerves, cupping his face before bringing him down to meet your lips with his, somehow all your nerves melted away.

The sensation of him kissing you makes you lighter than air, you hope this isn’t goodbye and that he has the sense to love you.

Mikey starts kissing back harder but you pull away, if he wants to kiss you again, he knows the decisions he has to make.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Band practise was in full swing, switching from written originals to winged pieces from Iron Maiden, to just pure chaotic screaming and noise.

You stood in for the drummer most practises, unable to find one that would stay for long, you didn’t want the spotlight in your life but that didn’t mean you would let your friends fail. If you had to be the drummer indefinitely, you would, for them.

“Can we take a break? I am dying for a cigarette….” Frank huffs, stretching out his back.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll take ten.” Gee waves him off, leaving the room, presumably to wet his windpipes after some decent screaming.

“You are so locked in, Y/n, this is a sick as fuck practise, today.” Frank compliments, mumbling half through his cigarette as he lights it.

“Why thank you, Frankenstein, trying my best as always.” You got the hang of perfecting a drumstick spin, adding one to the end of your sentence letting it spin between your fingers.

I wonder what had you so drum happy today? Small, stolen glances during your haphazard set between you and Mikey had you blushing, easily hidden by the violent act of drumming making you red in the face. Could that be why? The awkwardness had slowly melted away during the day, just leaving a sense of nervousness.

You decide you had to eat something, having gone without all day. You grab what you could guess was a blueberry muffin from the counter, that would do.

You sit on the couch, Frank across from you on a chair and Mikey sat on the floor near the drum kit.

There’s a weird look on Frank’s face, one you can’t quite make sense of, you raise your eyebrow at him.

“Enjoying your muffin?” He stifles a giggle, what in the world was he playing at?

“Yes…why?” You question, slowly.

“That’s not important- What does that muffin taste like?” He hums, tilting his head.

“Um….blueberry?” You roll your eyes, weirdo.

“And?” He bites his lip.

“And what? Blueberry, that’s it.” You stop eating, confused at what he was playing at.

“And…” He drags out his word, raising his eyebrows at you, it dawns on you. Not again.

“DID YOU FUCKING LICK THIS?” You scream, jaw dropping.

“Like a LOLLIPOP!” He cackles, dodging the muffin that flew at him, you grunt, tackling him off the chair.

“You little freak- swear I’m gonna-“ Mikey silently chuckles, covering his mouth in the corner as you attempt to smack him in the head, tousling on the floor.

“Hey! Knock it off!” Ray runs in, having followed Gee, he snatches his guitar off the floor as it is dangerously close to getting kicked.

“Thank you, Ray. She’s, crazy!” Frank is heaving, still dodging your hits

“Sorry, Ray, he licked my fucking food, again.” You growl.

“Oh, never mind, please yourself then.” Ray shrugs.

“Ha!” You scream down Frank’s ear.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You stare at yourself in the mirror, was this too much? Not enough?

You had actually done something with your hair, it sat in perfect, teased curls, having used an ancient curling iron Gerard had found.

A dress you had been saving for a special occasion, hugs you perfectly- a lovely mix between grunge and gorgeous. Some would say ruined- you would say improved by fishnets and your docs- comfort over classy. Picking up Frank’s old leather jacket, that he had bought to be a baggy item, was just as baggy on you. You let the jackets shoulder slide down resting on your upper arm, like a shawl or sorts.

You took more time on your makeup, going a little more out than you normally would, even you could admit shyly to yourself you looked kinda good. Heavy eyeliner, all smoked out and big, not like the usual under eye- it makes you wanna put this effort in again. You finish it off with a black lip, not the usual red-purple that stained your lips for days. You fix your piercings that were a little crooked, putting some cooler earrings in too.

You do a final look, dusting off your clothes and spraying some sweet perfume to mask the smell of the Way’s.

You hear the door to Gerard’s bedroom creak open, you turn your head to find Ray.

“Oh, sorry Y/n-“ He smiles when he sees you. “You look really beautiful, y’know.” He nods toward you. You laugh a little.

“I think for once I can say I do look a little pretty today.”

“I don’t mean just now either, you are beautiful, and I know you don’t see it.” Your heart tugs itself, trust Ray to make everything feel better.

“Thank you, means a lot to me, Toro.” You avoid his eyes to avoid crying and ruining your makeup.

“I think you are missing something, though.” You raise your brow at him.

“What might that be.”

Ray looks around the room, a bouquet of artificial black roses stood in a vase, he immediately goes up to them. Picking one up, he finds some scissors and cuts the stem close to the head so just the flower head and a bit of stem is left. He grabs a few of your bobby pins he found near your makeup before pinning it into your hair.

“Now it’s all together.” He fixes a few fly-away hairs, like a dad or a brother would on prom night.

“It looks perfect, why didn’t I think of that?”

“Make sure to turn some heads.”

“I will.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I heard there’s a new band playing tonight, their turn in the hot seat.” Frank muses, all of you stood around in the Way living room, still waiting on Mikey.

“I love it when a new band comes along, like seeing how they play and what drum techniques different people use.” You shrug.

“Well, they aren’t better than us, that’s guaranteed, which is why we have a half an hour set after them.” Frank tells his little secret and all of your groan a little.

“C’mon, I thought we were getting fucked up tonight? You remember what happened last time we were hammered.” You cringe at the memory of Frank falling into your drums and ruining the whole performance after breaking the snare.

“We are going to control ourselves, have a couple of drinks, and thennnnnn- afterwards we can let hell loose?” He proposes, like it was his plan all along.

“Fine.” You smile, the rest of the band in agreement. You can start to hear Mikey’s footsteps coming closer and closer to the room, you do a quick pat down when no one was looking making sure there was nothing stuck on you.

He uses the entrance behind you, announcing himself.

Mikey’s world turns in slow motion as you turn around, meeting his eyes, you looked more breathtaking than ever.

He wished it was his jacket you were wearing, not Frank’s, but he doesn’t want to rush this.

“Don’t she look drop dead gorgeous?” Gerard hums to Mikey, all he can do is nod and stare, pushing back his thoughts and wants- the ones screaming kiss her.

For now, he would have to behave himself.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Ray never drank too much anyway, a glass or two for night and due to Frank putting you down for a performance you decided to bring the van to use your own instruments- all except your drums- that was too much effort- so Ray would be the casually designated driver.

The drive there was fun, cigarette smoke slipping through the open windows whilst hard rock and the occasional ballad (definitely not Frank’s mix) blared through the speakers.

You saw the entertainment sign as you neared.

Tonight at ‘Puzzles’:

Introducing-

Fall Out Boy !

(appearances from My Chemical Romance)

Cool name, but not as cool as yours, you had thought. Your exes band didn’t even have a name when you had left them, it wouldn’t be them, surely. Although the thought always played on your mind- one day would they find their way here?

You parked round the back like always, opting to leave your stuff in the van.

You walked into the bar and everything was in full swing, just how it always was, The dirty floor, the sound of smashing bottles from behind the bar, the music playing heavy through the speakers and an abundance of drunken laughter.

The band wasn’t on yet, you hadn’t missed the opportunity to judge them, deciding to grab a drink you yanked Frank by the hand to join you.

“Hey, Y/n! Frank, what’s up, man!” The bartender bro bumps Frank before giving you a friendly wink and a smile.

“Hey, Ted, bud.” You wave, he automatically points to the cheapest bottles beer and you both nod in amusement.

Your coins clink together as you lay them down on the bar, paying for yours and Frank’s, he would get the next one anyways.

“Thanks, hun.” Frank cheers’ you, before you both bring the bottles to your lips, chugging half.

The rest of the guys join you shortly after, creating a messy semi circle near the bar.

“I know we said go easy but…shots?” Gerard’s eyes sparkle mischievously, you all cave immediately.

“I’m in.” Mikey.

“Fine, you’re paying.” Frank.

“I can’t say no.” You.

“I’ll just take a beer.” Ray, smart.

The shots are poured and you all clink them and table tap them before knocking them back.

You put your shot glasses back on the table before someone taps on your shoulder.

It couldn’t be the guys as you’re facing them, and you don’t really know anyone else so who would that be?

You spin around with a confused look on your face, your eyes widening as you see who tapped you.

“Pete! What the hell, man, What are you doing here?” You are pulled in for a hug, god, you missed him- your old best friend. Did he bring him? Was Pete on his own?

The guys give you a confused look, you wave them with your hand- you would explain later.

“Hey, Y/n- actually, we are play-“ He was cut off by the stage microphone.

��Ladies and gentlemen! New here tonight and ready to play for you all- I want you to give a wild, Jersey, welcome to Fall Out Boy!” The new band is called to the stage. The crowd murmurs a little giving a cheer.

“We are here to play!” Pete beams, gauging your reaction. Your face drops, you can’t swallow, he can’t be here on his own. That must mean-

“See you after the set, Y/n. Somehow I just knew you would be here.” Pete bids you goodbye, heading to the stage.

You watch as they all pick up their instruments.

You run to stand in between Gee and Mikey.

“He’s here.” You whisper in Gee’s ear, he gives you wide eyes, knowing exactly who you mean.

First there’s Andy, heading to the drums- you remember when he first let you on his kit- you fell in love with them. He gave you pointers and helped you fuel your love for them more throughout the years.

Joe, sweet old Joe. The laughter filled afternoons, where you sat around trying to throw candy in each other’s mouths.

Pete, your old best friend, the tears shared and times you spent together never seemed to leave your mind.

And then…

Patrick.

He looks good, so good. You hadn’t seen him since moving day, the day you left Illinois.

Damn it.

You watch with awe, as he shyly introduces themselves again, picking up his guitar. You can’t draw your eyes away from him.

You don’t notice how Mikey looks at you, do you know this band?

“Uhm, so there’s someone here in Jersey, who I- we lost a long time ago- a lot of these songs we wrote about her. I hope to see her whilst I’m here. This is- Grand Theft Autumn!” Could he be talking about you?

Before Patrick starts singing, Pete whispers in his ear and his eyes widen. He must know your here now.

The pressure is on.

“Where is your boy, tonight? I hope he is a gentleman.”

“Maybe he won’t find out what I know.”

He sounds amazing as ever, you can’t help but smile.

“You were the last good thing about this of town.”

You gasp as he sings with full chest, the last thing he ever said to you before you left Chicago.

Tears brim your eyes, he must think about you too.

The band is in full motion, Patrick’s eyes searching the crowd, you know he is looking for you. Are you ready to face him? After all these years?

You realise shortly you will have to play in front of him, show him what your band is made of.

What about Mikey?

You start the ponder the unresolved feelings, snatched away from you in Chicago. The new blooming feelings in Jersey.

You can’t stop staring at Patrick, the way the stage lights hit his face, all your feelings swarming inside the hive that is your stomach.

“I need another round.” You mumble in Frank’s ear, he grabs you and pushes you up to the bar ordering four more beers, two for you and two for him.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but something is clearly fucking with you.” Frank half smiles, paying for the drinks.

“I fear the truth would break you, my love.” You laugh, feigning a sadness.

“Try me.” He ponders at you, you debate to tell him the situation.

On one hand, Frank would never tell anyone if you told him to stay quiet. On the other hand- ah, screw it.

“I fucked Mikey-“ Frank’s mouth drops open, like you just shot a dog in front of him, “mm not done, babe. My ex is up there and I am for sure still in love with him-“ Frank just stares, wide eyed, “and I’m in love with Mikey.”

“What the fuck.”

“I know-“

“You fucked Mikey?”

“Yeah, last night and-“

“Dude!”

“What!”

“I always thought it would be Gerard.”

“Shut up, you did not.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“He is like a damn brother to me!”

“Yeah, now he is.” Frank snorts, dodging a smack from you as you giggle at him.

“Rude!”

“So what’s the deal with your ex? The band actually play pretty good so, before I praise them on their skills I’d like to know if I should punch anyone or not?”

“I haven’t spoke. to Patrick for like, three years. I broke my phone when I got to Jersey and it had all my numbers in. Thought he’d be angry and forget about me, turns out, half their set is about me. He might still be angry at me- for thinking I just stopped talking to him. Oh, god, do you think he is here to yell at me?” You hold your temple, stressing out.

“Hey, hey. If he yells at you- you know I’ll- actually you don’t need to know what I’ll do.” He chuckles, giving you a side hug.

“Thanks, Frankie. You’re the best.” He smiles with his tongue between his teeth.

“You know, I’d ask you for more details on Mikey but I think that’s a conversation for later as he is comingrightthiswaybyeeeee!” He rushes out the last few words before sneaking off.

“Hey…” You turn around, Frank already lost to the crowd.

“Hi, Mikes.”

There is a nervous pause.

“You know the band?” He comes right out with it.

“Yeah…the bassist, Pete was my best friend and…yeah I knew them in Chicago- they didn’t even have a name then.” You decide to spare the information about Patrick.

“Cool, so…you and this Pete guy…it wasn’t him who you-“ You cut him off.

“Oh! No, no…Pete is- was just a friend.” You smile forlornly, remembering the friendship of the past. Maybe now you could get back in touch?

“Okay, good. I’m..not much of a fighter.” He laughs and gestures to himself.

“Aw, no, come on. I’m sure you could pull a punch.” You punch his shoulder, so gently, he only moves an inch.

“Let’s hope I never find out.” You look into Mikey’s eyes and feel a certain guilt.

A guilt that you still love Patrick.

A guilt that he doesn’t know anything.

A guilt that you love him.

“Mikey, I-“ You are cut off by a pair of lips on yours.

He pulls you insanely close, cradling your head in his, it’s passionate- more than any other kiss you’ve shared. He pulls away, shocked at himself.

“I am so sorry, you just looked so gorgeous in the light and- I have had a few drinks- I am so sorry.” He apologises, rambling on.

You look up to the stage discreetly, their last song ends and they start to exit the stage, you lose all the members in the crowd.

You panic. He deserves to know the truth.

“Mikey don’t be sorry. It’s not that I don’t want to kiss you- I just-“ You groan, trying to think of a way to explain, “I just want you to be sure of your feelings. I’m not someone that enjoys being fucked around with. Which is why you should know-“

“Y/n.”. A familiar voice behind you makes your stomach drop.

“Know what?” Mikey grabs your hand, pleading with you to tell him what’s wrong.

“I can’t believe it’s you.” You turn around, there he is, sure as day.

“Pat-“ Before you can speak, he pulls you into a hug and suddenly you’re eight years old again- meeting Patrick for the first time.

He smells the same, you feel a tear roll down your cheek, losing it as it falls onto his jacket.

“Your brother told me everything, back home. How your dad had told him you broke your phone and lost all your numbers- and I just knew you never stopped talking to me- I knew it.”

Your brother, being old enough to stay in Chicago, had one phone call with your dad when you moved, you mentioned about a broken phone- the only nice thing he had ever done was replace it. And that was only so he could now where you were at the press of a button- you wouldn’t dare reject his calls.

You missed your brother so much, but he knew you would have called if you could.

He must have told your brother- who told Patrick, who must have told the boys.

Who-

“Nice to meet one of Y/n’s friends from Illinois.” Mikey nods at him, Patrick looks at him confused.

“Friend? Did you not-“ Patrick turns to you, but before you can say anything, Mikey is kidnapped by Gerard and Ray- forcing him to come help them get their instruments.

“You looked like you could use a little help.” Frank whispers in your ear, before motioning that your set is on soon.

“Thank you.” You whisper back.

“What’s going on, Y/n? Did you not tell anyone about us?” Patrick doesn’t seem upset, just confused.

“I did…I promise. I just…I missed you too much to cope at all, I just couldn’t talk about it. I thought I’d never see you again.” You look at him, defeated- overwhelmed by everything all at once.

“I missed you, too. More than anything.” He grabs your hand, your heart flutters. You look a little different to how he remembers you, well, you are a lot different now. He still thinks you are drop dead gorgeous, more so even.

“I um, I gotta go prepare for my band to play. But here-“ You grab the pen hanging out of his jacket top pocket before scribbling your new number on his hand, “If we don’t get a chance, we will talk soon?” You smile.

“Yeah, yeah, of course, we are here for a couple weeks- Joe’s visiting his aunt a couple of towns over, so- I’ll be here. Wait- you’re My Chemical Romance?” His eyes shine, he’s never seen you play like you do now, you can’t wait.

“You know what- seems like I am.” You giggle before downing your beer and waving goodbye, running to the van parked out back to get your sticks, opting to use the house drums already on stage.

Your heart hangs heavy with all of tonight.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“And now welcome to the stage- a favourite here at Puzzles, you know them, you love them. They got a new album out in a couple of months- it’s My Chemical Romance!” Marshall, the announcer for most nights, gives you a high five as you all step out. You had decided to play a a few songs from your only album- I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love.

Of course the new one was in the making, and how things were looking seems you would be the drummer indefinitely. You often helped with the writing process, giving you a deep understanding to each lyric and beat.

Gerard amps up the crowd and you try to spot the boys in the audience, you do, you can see them by the bar.

Pete noticed you looking and gave you a wave, nudging Patrick, who gave you a shy wave too. Andy gives you a thumbs up, and Joe just smiles, nodding over.

“We decided tonight, we’re gonna start with a little something called Headfirst for Halos-“ Gerard motions over to me and I start my cue.

“1, 2, 3-“ You blur into the microphone next to you and as soon as your sticks hit the set- you know this is gonna be a good show.

Every song makes you sweat even more, your swinging your hair around, trying to keep it from sticking to your forehead. Frank’s nearly hit Mikey in the head five times and has already licked Gerard, Ray is stood- grounded- head banging like usual and definitely with more grace than you.

You guys finish off with the song that meant the most to you, Demolition Lovers. Having wrote a lot of the lyrics about Mikey- you felt a special connection to this one specifically- it was the band’s lovechild which basically gave you all (mostly Gee) the idea of the next album.

As Gerard sings, you can’t help but find Mikey with your eyes, he usually stand on his side of the stage, moving a klmetre or two but this time- he walks closer. He’s now playing at you- putting his heart into his bass

“I’m trying, I’m trying.”

“To let you know how much you mean”

“As days fade and nights grow”

“And we grow cold”

You start the cry a little, the lyrics you wrote, you feel it in your soul.

The song ends and you can’t do anything but sit there, the hot lights shining down on you.

“Our CD’s are behind the bar as usual if anyone would like one, we have been My Chemical Romance, thank you so much!” Gerard screams down the mic, you look at Mikey, he offers out his hand.

You take it, letting him pull you off stage with the guys, as you walk out the bitter cold air is pleasure against your skin- hot like metal.

Everyone starts putting their equipment back into the van.

“Cigarette?” Frank quips, having his own today he offers out the box.

“Deadly.” You breathe, taking one out, using Frank’s cigarette to light it as you forgot your bag at home.

“How about you just…be our drummer? You’re already the best out there, you never let us down. I know you don’t like spotlight and all but you write songs the way we do and we need you-“

“I’ll do it.” You laugh.

“Really?” Frank’s hopeful eyes shining at you, they had asked a few times with you always declining.

“Yeah, I’ll do it.”

“Guys! She’s in!” Frank screams, all of a sudden you are surrounded by sweaty, stinking males putting their paws all over you as they hug you.

“Finally!” Gerard kisses your forehead.

You just hope your whole boy situation doesn’t break up the band.

“You need me, what can I say?” You pretend to play it off cool.

What a night you are in for.

[anystalker707]

heavy feelings

Pairings: Frank Iero x [gender-neutral] Reader Genre: Light angst / Comfort / Fluff Summary: Longing for each other until finding out you two feel the same for each other. a/n: hey guys i hope i don't regret writing this little thing for mcr after forever away from it, even if this is a sam monroe fic that i adapted for frank iero

MASTER LIST

          Of course, you knew it would rain, seeing the darkness gathering in the distance, the clouds looking heavy and dense, slowly rolling in. Maybe not so slowly. You’d predicted it’d rain later at night, and not right when you had to leave work. Or perhaps, even, you just wanted to convince yourself of it after noticing your umbrella wasn’t in your bag. Leaving your house in a rush during an especially stressful week could do that.

There was nowhere to run to now that you searched for shelter by standing as close to the building as possible, staring at your phone’s screen. With a sigh, you finally texted Frank, receiving a text you didn’t know how to interpret. Still, you waited.

Ten minutes or so had passed when the car finally stopped by the curb, and you quickly rushed through the rain to slip into Frank’s car, which had an almost permanent smell of cigarettes and a hint of the drink Mikey spilled on the back seats some weeks ago. The engine hummed under you as the rain pattered against the window, but not loud enough to drown out the music from the radio, making a comfortable atmosphere that felt like a warm hug after a long day at work.

The gray colors of the sky merged with the city lights, creating distortions through the raindrops that ran down the cars’ windows, and also hiding an otherwise a sky with the colors of the end of the day.

“Am I your Uber now or somethin’?” Frank raised an eyebrow, leaning forward to look down the street before crossing the crossroad, his tongue lightly playing with his lip ring.

You shrugged, adjusting your bag on your feet. “Well, seemed like a good opportunity to see you.” Twisting the knob slowly, you turned the volume up, just enough for the words to be comprehensible.

"Oh don't talk of love" the shadows purrMurmuring me away from you"Don't talk of worlds that never were…

Frank was silent, letting his brain swim in the lyrics, before he exhaled. “Yeah, well, maybe I didn’t want you to see me right now.” Annoyance marred his words, rough with irritation and… something else. “Maybe I just want to be left alone.”

Bitter, as usual. You rolled your eyes, looking out the window with a soft sigh. “Just drop me at my place.”

Frank’s hands tightened around the steering wheel, and he glanced at you. “Wait,” he choked out, his throat suddenly dry. “I didn’t mean that. ‘M sorry. I just…” He huffed. “‘M not good at this.” His hair was a little wet from catching a little rain earlier when getting in the car, and wetting his palm slightly when he tugged on his own strands almost painfully. So fucking stupid. Why couldn’t he just be nice to you? “I don’t want to take you home. I want to spend time with you. Just you.” Hopefully, that waver in his voice was just his mind tricking him.

A sigh. “Whatever. Sure.”

His heart kept beating way too fast. Damn it. Frank hesitantly reached over and grazed your thigh with his hand. He needed to cross that bridge. “Come on,” he mumbled in a softer tone. “Let’s go somewhere. Anywhere.” It wasn’t much of an apology, but he couldn’t do much better now.

Silence stretched, and Frank was hyper-aware of everything. His sweaty palms around the steering wheel, the floor vibrating under his feet, the rain, the music, you. Really, all he did was make things worse. No one ever liked him in such a tender way, so he wasn’t sure how to handle it all. Or even how to communicate nicely.

“You know,” Frank attempted, voice quiet, “I don’t like it when you’re upset with me.” The words felt heavy on his tongue.

Silence stretched again, but not for so long. “I’m not upset with you,” you said softly, suppressing another sigh, observing the inked lines along his skin. “Gloomy weather just makes me feel… down.”

Frank’s jaw clenched as he turned the car, navigating the familiar streets towards his house, keeping his eyes glued on the road because he didn’t know how he’d react if he looked at you. Something thick hung in the air, too sensitive to be touched, causing another silence, but it was heavy and oppressive this time. After he pulled into the driveway, it pushed more upon him as he stared at the distorted image of his house through the windshield. He wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension. But the words wouldn’t come.

Frank fought against whatever seemed to hold him back and reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers together, finding solace in the small touch. “Come inside. Please. I need you.”

The two of you shared a look before you nodded, giving his hand a brief squeeze, then releasing it to leave the car and jog towards the front door together.

Focused on unlocking the door, Frank twisted his mouth faintly. He held it open for you before stepping inside as well, both of you leaving the wet shoes by the door as he unlocked it again. He watched you take off your shoes, feeling his heart twist—it was a sign of comfort, of familiarity. Of home.

The house was quiet, the lights dimmed, a guitar forgotten on the couch. It felt empty, lifeless. Just like Frank felt most of the time. He leaned back against the door and looked at you for a moment, analyzing, looking for something. He knew something troubled you, the sadness was there, even if he couldn’t quite tell the reason, and it made his heart ache, made him want to take it away. How could he have such strong feelings for someone else? His stomach churned.

“Come here.” Frank held out his hand. “Please, I just… I need to hold you.”

Despite your silence, your hand found Frank’s, hesitantly, lacing your fingers together as you stepped closer, and his hand immediately tightened around yours. He slowly wiped away a raindrop that ran down your temple, sighing.

“I hate seeing you like this,” he whispered. “I hate knowing that I can’t take it away, that I can’t make it better.” The closeness allowed him to drink in every detail of your features and burn it in his memory so that he could revisit it later when he was missing you.

You looked away, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’m fine, really. It’s not that bad.”

Frank knew you were lying for your own sake, though it still hurt that you didn’t trust him to comfort you, to make everything better. He let his hands fall to his sides when your grip loosened. The frustration made him want to scream and break everything—he would never do that, not when it could worsen things.

“I know you’re not okay, and I hate that I can’t do anything to change that.” Frank pressed his lips together, nipping his lip ring a little, and stepped back, trying not to seem needy or pushy. “I’m here for you.” It was cliché, something you were probably tired of hearing already, but Frank didn’t know what else to offer, and maybe it worked.

Your eyes softened, and your shoulders dropped. “Don’t worry.”

“Come on,” Frank said before silence reigned again. “Let’s go upstairs. We can watch a movie or somethin’.” His hand found yours before you climbed the stairs, and his hand remained in yours when you left your bag by the corner and tugged you down with him as he flopped on the bed. You landed in a tangle of limbs, with his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you close, and his face buried in your neck to inhale your scent deeply. Home.

Despite not being what you expected, it was easy to relax and let go against Frank, taking in the oddly comforting scent of his bed and returning the embrace, tracing circles into his back—he hummed contently in response.

The little gesture calmed down the furious sea of emotions inside Frank and reduced the world to the little bubble shared by the two of you. Everything was about your warmth and the weight of your arms around him.

Enough time had passed when Frank turned his head to rest it on your shoulder. His fingers tightened around your shirt, as if you’d disappear if he let go. “Turn on a movie, please.” Your shoulder muffled his voice. “Something you like.” All he wanted was to give you a moment free from the weight of the world on your shoulders, and maybe, just maybe, Frank would find and provide solace in the process. “I don’t care what it is. Just pick something.”

Damn. It was hard to choose. You tried to think about something both of you liked and aligned with the atmosphere. None of you would watch it anyway, but the muffled talk under the sound of the rain outside was comforting. Playing with your hair proved to be a lot more interesting to Frank, an intimate and possessive gesture, to him. Mine, his heart whispered.

“Thanks for putting up with me,” Frank muttered quietly. He knew he wasn’t the easiest to be around, and he could be a lot to handle, but you were still there with him. That meant so much. Despite the lack of an answer, his heart melted at seeing you enjoying the touch, pressing your head to his, briefly. It was almost like you were completely his, and Frank almost allowed himself to slip into the daydream of being yours when guilt pushed him back.

The ending song started playing, but Frank remained still, trying to prolong the connection. He had never felt so close to you before, so… exposed. Unlike he had believed, it was peaceful.

Eventually, he pulled back to meet your eyes in the dim lighting of his bedroom. There was so much he wanted to say, but the words stuck in his throat, jumbled and indecipherable. “You should sleep here,” he said, finally, the only words that managed to escape through. “I’ll put an extra blanket on the floor for you.” He wasn’t up to going through the usual bickering of who should take the bed. Most of all, it was an offering, a plea, to have you there while he slipped into the unforgiving embrace of sleep, since he couldn’t have you hold him overnight. “Unless you’d rather go home.”

“I’ll stay. Don’t worry.”

Frank nodded in relief.

The makeshift bed wasn’t the best, but it was the best that Frank could do. If only he could convince you to take the bed. “There,” he exhaled, giving you one of his pillows. “It’s not much, but it’s… comfortable.” He sat back on the mattress. His eyes followed you, observing how his borrowed clothes looked on you and the weight of the day in your eyes. Fuck, he was so lucky to still have you there with him. “Thank you,” he said, because it was all he could do without feeling like he would fall apart. “For staying, for being here, for… everything.” He wanted to say more. It wasn’t the time, though. He didn’t think it was the moment.

“It’s fine. It’s not something you need to thank me for.” You adjusted the pillow on the ground before lying down and pulling a blanket over yourself. It smelled like Frank. The rain still poured outside, comforting and daunting at the same time. “Good night.”

Frank watched you in silence, nodding, and swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Good night,” he mumbled. He dimmed down the light on the nightstand, leaving the room in a soft, cozy darkness, a little envious that you fell asleep faster, but he knew the day had been harsher on you. The weight in his chest held Frank awake, and he couldn’t help but roll on his side to observe you. There was not much to see in the darkness, but he could make out the rise and fall of your chest in a peaceful rhythm that lulled him into a sense of security—a false one.

If only you cuddled with him to sleep. Frank reached out, letting his fingertips graze your arm in a whisper of a caress, allowing himself to imagine a scenario in which you fall asleep in each other’s arms. He doesn’t want to wake you because of his silly daydreams, especially not when you’re finally allowed to rest.

With a heavy sigh, Frank forced himself to withdraw his hand and let you sleep undisturbed, averting his attention to the ceiling. He’d just settle down for the comfort of your presence with the knowledge that, even if not enough, it was more than he deserved. Among the mess of thoughts and feelings, he could finally fall asleep.

Panic rose in his chest when Frank noticed the empty spot beside his bed, but then he saw you standing by the window, with your hands on the windowsill, watching the rain, and his heart calmed down. He sat up with a yawn, leaving smeared makeup on his fingers with rubbing his eyes. The sight of you standing there filled him with a strange sense of peace.

Frank swung his legs over the bed's side before standing up and as much as he wanted to walk over, he preferred to rush to the bathroom and at least take a piss and wash his mouth before anything. Given the situation of it, he presumed you’d been awake for longer than he thought.

Finally, Frank returned and approached you, standing close enough so that your shoulders touched. “Morning,” he mumbled, voice still rough with sleep. “You slept well?” He blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the sleep in his eyes. “Coffee? I can make some if you want.”

You observed him for a moment before finally shaking your head. “Morning. The floor isn’t so bad.” You paused. “We can have some coffee later.”

“So, what’s the plan for today?” Frank prayed you wouldn’t mention anything about leaving. He hoped there wouldn’t be any last-minute band practice today. Spending so much time with you was… nice. More than nice, actually. It was everything he had been wanting lately.

Rain kept pattering against the window. It was a soothing sound he found himself soothing into. He tilted his head, pressing his nose to the cold glass, and his heart fluttered at the chuckle he snatched from you. “We could…” His mind raced with the possibilities. He didn’t know. Whatever you wanted, as long as you two spent time together.

“There’s not much we can do.” You shrugged, averting your eyes to the outside again, watching the puddles. “And you? Slept well?”

Frank looked over at you, nodding faintly. “Mm, yeah.” Sleepiness still clung to his voice, but he couldn’t fight the feeling that came along with rainy days. He decided to indulge in his wishes and slide an arm around your waist, relishing the closeness, humming as he buried his face in your shoulder for a moment before following your gaze outside the window. He felt like melting when you held him in return. “We can watch a movie. I’ll even let you have the remote.”

For some reason, Frank felt clingy, unable to hold himself back from tightening his arms around you, basking in the warmth of your skin that seeped through your—his—clothes. He’d never felt this close to you, and maybe you felt the same.

Your nose pressed to his cheek, breath tickling his skin. “Sounds good.”

Frank wanted nothing more than to turn his head and meet your lips, but he restrained himself. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he mumbled with a soft sigh. Words heaved on his tongue like lead, at the same time they prickled in a plea to be freed. “Y’know, I love you.” While he pulled away to look at you in the eyes, he was already making up a thousand excuses in his mind, but all of them vanished once his eyes met yours, and he winced.

“I… ‘m sorry,” Frank said, anxiety coiling in his gut, and he wanted to spill a thousand words to justify himself, but nothing ever came. His brain short-circuited the moment you leaned in and simply kissed him, the sensation so much more intense and better than anything he could’ve imagined.

A soft sound escaped Frank’s throat when he finally returned the kiss, adjusting his grip around you, taking in every detail—your breath fanning over his philtrum, your eyelashes brushing against his cheek, your hands on his shoulders, his lip ring between your lips, everything. The doubts and worries melted away shamefully easily, calming down his heart in a way he’d never felt before.

Only a few seconds and eternity had simultaneously passed when the kiss came to an end, and Frank looked at you again, his mind a lot quieter now, lips tingling. He felt so safe in your embrace, fuck.

“I love you, too, okay?” You mumbled, kissing his cheek, and he couldn’t help but smile, burying his face in your shoulder.

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

[mimilovesnumetal]

gerard way probably tastes like cinnamon and coffee.. or cyanide.. smth like that

[mychemstat]

just text me- ray toro

summary- you don't expect your tutor to be remotely attractive. you certainly don't expect him to care about anything other than his transcript. but seeing the recipient of the president's scholarship and the name on top of the dean's list shredding electric guitar on stage with his tattooed and pierced band members has you reevaluating your life; did you want to fuck your tutor? author's note and warnings- ray/ftm!reader, cunnilingus, sexual tension, nerd ray, suspicious gerard, pete wentz mention if you squint (comment if you find him), trans allegory, smut. enjoy :)

you stare blankly at the loading webpage, gut coiling at the speed of the buffering dots in the middle of the screen. rubbed, red eyes and undone hair bathing in the fluorescent light of the screen, instant noodles steaming near your keyboard in a cheap plastic cup, you lean back in your chair, the plasticky armrests pricking your skin. the only light source in your room is the laptop you were given last year, especially because the main white tubelight in your ceiling makes you depressed, something about the emptiness it casts over your room, reminding you of hospital lights; the feeling of being on display bothers you deeply. 

the digital clock on your nightstand reads 3:03 am; near the giant text is a small symbol reading the time you set for your alarm, 8:00 am. most days you would get less than four hours of sleep, so this was not surprising for you at all. you toggle your index finger on the mouse, scrolling down to the end of the page, clicking on “see available tutors.” incisors sinking into the plush flesh of your bottom lip, you skim through the math tutors listed on the pdf. 

most tutors were listed under first-year math courses, resulting in an immediate elimination from your shortlist. you word-search “fourth-year data statistics,” meeting with only one result. you pout at the lack of options but click on his profile anyway; not like you have a choice. 

there is no profile picture on his listing, just the words “raymond toro: fourth year, dean’s list.” your eyes flicker to his tutoring times and contact information, fingers reaching for the nearest pen and pad to jot down the information. you have definitely heard his name before in classwide emails about how he received the president’s scholarship. but, fucking hell, you never expected him to tutor people; you figured he was just too busy studying to do anything for others. 

shutting your laptop, you kick away from your study desk, looking over your roommate’s bed behind you to make sure she doesn’t wake up. she stirs slightly and goes back to softly snoring, making you sigh in relief. tiptoeing to your bed, you lift the covers as quietly as possible and climb in, switching your phone on and going over to instagram.

you ignore your inbox and any notifications that pop down from the top of your screen and focus on typing the tutor’s name into the search bar. you click the top result, the one with the most mutual friends. that has to be him you think, hoping his profile was public.

it was, but it didn’t help; his profile picture was an electric guitar, and he had not posted. furrowing your brows, you bite the inside of your lip, pressing on the tagged pictures. 

bingo.

the only picture he was tagged in was posted by the username “gwayyy.” your thumb is quick to scroll through the post,  barely paying attention to the owner of the account, tapping on each slide to see if any of the tagged people in the pictures is this “raymond toro.”

you end up in the last slide, meeting the back profile of a man with shoulder-length curly hair, a broad back, and a slimmer waist than you would expect. 

you pictured a gallon of hair gel slicking his hair to the side and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses; you know, someone who would get a hard-on from every a-plus they get in their classes. 

you switch your phone off, place it on the nightstand and shut your eyes, trying to fall asleep, even though you know you stay up past four in the morning every day. 

your eyes shoot open to stare at your wall, the queen poster staring back at you. the aircon sends a chill down your spine, triggering a pang of anxiety and turning your legs into jelly. you cannot afford to lose your scholarship, and your declining grades only add pressure to every fiber in your body.

you miss the first-year of your undergraduate degree, when you could pass exams without studying too much, get high every few days, and waste time with your friends. it definitely does not help that your family wants you to get a well-paying job right out of college, and you are already in your fourth-year, no clue what you want to do with your life. you barely meet with your friends now, forget about getting high for no reason and spending time at some rando’s dorm party getting tipsy, trying to flirt with the nearest warm body you find. 

the focused, determined student you once aspired to be had died, leaving but a husk of weak motivation. one part of you wants to graduate and leave this place, the other part does not want to enter the workforce that would put you in a cubicle with other mindless drones feeding capitalism’s drooling gluttonous gut. 

or something like that.

plugging in your headphones, you lie on your back, eyelids drooping down. the lulling melody submerging you under a thin layer of unconsciousness. 

you dream about a budding flower that night, a dahlia, it seems. it looks fake, though, almost like it is made of plastic. it grows thorns, roots growing deeper and stronger into the soil. dew drops slide into the center of the flower, swirling into a hurricane-like pattern, revealing a red rose. 

the enticing nature of the flower, the way it swings against the wind like its first breath of fresh air. the flower stands tall, taller than it did when it was a fake, plastic dahlia. rose petals glow against the moonlight, almost smiling. your chest feels warm, you feel your body rise to the air, disintegrate into rose petals. you are happy.

the deafening ringing of your alarm wakes you up, fluorescent rings of pink and yellow emerging from the darkness under your squinted eyes. 

“turn it off, bitch!” you hear your roommate muffle through her pillow, your fingers reaching for the top of the alarm to slam it off. your roommate was never a morning person, exactly like you, so you don’t mind her cussing you out even though she was basically a twenty something year old mother teresa if she were a stoner reincarnated any other time of day.

your phone in one hand and toothbrush in the other, you email the tutor, not putting too much thought into the message before sending it and shoving your phone into your hoodie’s pocket. dark circles curve under your eyes- remnants of last night’s anxiety keeping you up. splashing ice-cold water helps them depuff, you heard.

*

the library is colder than usual, making you bring the cup of coffee to your eyes and warming them one at a time as you walk toward one of the study rooms. the email he almost immediately replied back with, said he would be in room 102, followed by five exclamations. 

way too enthusiastic for a tutoring session. and nine in the morning. and data statistics.

the gray carpet in the building makes you sleepier for some reason, sipping on your drink and knocking on the door labeled ‘102.’ the liquid warms you, soothing your organs as the door creaks open and your head cranes up. 

“hey! nice to see you! i’m ray,” the boy flashes you a toothy smile, curly brown hair like you saw in “gwayyy’s” instagram post. you marvel at how tall he is, almost reaching the doorframe. you don’t know whether to feel inferior or attracted to his height, but you nod, reaching your hand out. 

his hand engulfs yours easily, fingertips clearly calloused by the way they feel against the back of your palm. your cold hands that were once rigid, are now warm and protected, almost making you gasp at the reintroduction of the aircon to your skin when he pulls back. 

he walks in, making way for you as you assess the room. pale eggshell-white walls, destroyed on the edges with water stains, envelop the two of you. it smells like old books and mothballs at first as you drop your back near the foot of the chair nearest to you, and take a seat, adjusting your clothes. 

“thanks for replying so fast, by the way. i kind of needed help with this class.” you state, bending down to fish your notebook out as you feel his footsteps near your chair. 

his backpack was perched on top of the other side of the table, near the whiteboard, so you knew he was coming near you. 

“of course! yeah," raymond speaks. his voice is higher than you expect, masked by a husky filter and you look up at the direction of his voice, surprised by how close he was. 

it isn’t weird, he is there to tutor you after all. all he does is pull out a chair near yours, and place his hand on the table, fingers sprawled across the wooden top. you take a millisecond to see how his hand was basically the size of your notebook before meeting his face, closer to getting a better view.

“you know, i don’t get many students hitting me up to tutor them, so this is refreshing. i was totally just going to rot in my bed all day.” he comments, rolling his eyes playfully, trying to make you warm up to him. you smile, looking down at your notebook and grabbing your pen. your go-to move with anyone, platonic or romantic, is avoiding direct eye-contact for as long as possible. you straighten your back, swearing you watched his eyes flicked to your chest before switching to the whiteboard across the room. 

“so, what do you need help with?” he asks, pushing his chair back against the rough carpet and walking to the other side, watching his tight black shirt bundle up near his waist. your gaze scans his figure, noticing how the flimsy black fabric hugs his back and trails down to the waistband of his jeans that hug his hips tight. you make a mental note to stop staring but where else are you going to look? you’re there to watch him teach. 

nope, you are there to learn, so you don’t fail your classes and lose your scholarship. 

that reminder makes you snap out of the staring contest you had with the small of his back and look back up at him, ready with an answer, “uhh. confidence intervals.” 

it comes out more like a question, spoiling how clueless you are with the subject and you see him smile and nod at your tone before grabbing a dry-erase marker. five pens lie on the thin metal tray across the underside of the white board, and of course, ray doesn’t grab the one that works well the first time. or the fourth time. 

you watch him struggle and cuss through the process, biting back a smile at the way his curls shake at every sigh of disappointment. 

“there we go!” he exclaims, writing down the concept name on the white board, involuntarily flexing the muscles bulging near the ends of his short-sleeves. you see the hint of a tiny tattoo under the sleeve but you decide to save that for later amusement and focus on his words. 

“so, it’s super simple,” he begins, rambling about the definition, something about how it is the range in which you expect your test value to follow, and you soon realize that it, in fact, was not super simple. 

you nod, wanting to let him know that you were listening and alert. your eyes widen, and an unknowing smile spreads on your lips. he talked with his hands. a lot. the more animated he was, the more his hair moved around his face, and the more distracted you were. 

“so basically that is how you end up with the test value, do you know how to figure out if it is a right or left-tailed test?”

fuck, what the hell was that? you look away from him, pretending to think, knowing full well you have no fucking clue what it is. you press your lips together and squint your eyes, “...no.”

“no worries, that’s what i’m here for,” he smiles this time, a toothy grin, almost unexpected from someone of his stature, flashing before he turns around to draw yet another bell-curve on the white board. you watch his shoulder blades move with every letter he writes, how the small of his back stands prominent with the tightness of his shirt. 

he looks back a few times to confirm your attention, his lips pursing before turning back to the board and continuing teaching. he likes to ramble a lot, you notice, but it isn’t unnecessary by any means. if anything, it helps you retain information. 

you ask him questions, pen gliding against the thin notebook paper as you write down what is on the board. he folds his hands, one arm propping up on the other and reaching for his chin like he’s thinking of the answers. 

as more time passes, his shoulders relax, the back and forth between the two of you reaching a comfortable rhythm. you ask a question, he goes on a tangent and you fill out another page with ease, all the pieces of puzzle from different lectures falling into place. 

you let out a couple astonished “ohhhhh”s, like you finally understood the meaning of life and your tutor just smiles at your surprise each time. you bite down on your lip and knit your brows as he asks you if you understand him or not. 

“holy shit, this makes so much sense now.” you drop your head in relief and look back at him screwing the lid of the marker back on. he walks to the chair near you as you pen down the last of the diagram he drew before shutting your notebook close. 

“i wish you taught this class instead of higgins,” you comment, stuffing your belongings in your back, “i swear he hates his students.”

“higgins can be a toughie, but he’s just old, you know? and maybe slightly senile.” 

you chuckle, “thank you, raymond, seriously,” you rise to your feet strapping your bag on and looking down at where he sits. 

“oh, you can just call me ray, raymond is more for the official student records.”

oh, ray toro. has a nice ring to it. 

“okay, cool. do you teach anything else, ray?” you don’t expect your words to come out as flirtatiously as they do, but you can’t swallow them so you go with it, flashing a smile to coat them as platonically as possible. 

“uh… not officially. but if you ever need me to look over essays, or whatever, i’ll do it, i don’t get much traffic nowadays anyway so i’ll probably be free unless i’m at a gig.” 

so that electric guitar in his profile picture wasn’t for show. 

“oh, you perform?” you ask, feeling like a stalker. 

“yeah, i play guitar in this band, you probably haven’t heard of us.” he waves it off, clearly not one to boast about his personal life. 

“i’d love to catch a show,” you blurt out, not expecting your statement to sound as intense as it does. 

he cocks an eyebrow, “oh, for real? let me give you my number then, we have this show tomorrow night.”

already exchanging numbers? you giggle internally, watching his fingers tap the screen before giving you his phone. 

“i’ll just text you the time and address, gerard's still working out the logistics.” ray explains, erasing the whiteboard and pushing all the chairs into place.

you tilt your head in confusion, “gerard…?”

“oh, he’s our lead singer. you’ll see him tomorrow. hard to miss him.”

*

ray is right, of course. the next night, after hours of stewing in excitement to see ray perform, you watch this “gerard” dance and sing around the stage, flicking his tongue at the crowd, glistening in sweat from the stage lights beating down on the band. they are good. 

you aren’t at the very front though, that space was occupied by people who look like they have been waiting all their lives to see ray’s band perform so you sit right off the pit, pulling your jacket taut into yourself. you squint, trying to gauge a feel for each member. there is one on the left, banging his head, his lips spread apart like he’s mid orgasm at any given moment, tattoos spreading up his arms all the way to his neck. there’s one on the bass, seemingly timid, a beanie pulled over his straightened hair swooped to the side, the only one with glasses on and the tightest shirt on the planet. 

then there’s ray whose gaze is fixated down at his guitar, his tongue sticking out like there is nothing more important in the world. his guitar is crystal clear even when the expressive, red-haired frontman screams into the microphone. you feel your heart race at the sight of him shredding on the instrument, bouncing curls and flexing forearms prominent under the yellow lights. 

the overpriced drink in your hand that is seventy percent tequila and ten percent juice has you nodding along to the song, even though rock was never in your top genres on spotify. it may be the alcohol or their talent in general, because they sound good. like, scream your heart out to their songs and want to be their groupie good.

okay, maybe the latter is the alcohol talking. 

mostly girls around you fawn over the band’s frontman, or the one playing the bass, mikey, you gather from their screams. as their set comes to an end, he girls beeline from the pit to the backstage, excited giggles erupting one after the other. you feel like shit. 

ray is probably straight. he probably fucks girls left and right, he’s in a rock band after all. 

the defeatist in you, however, soon fails as you find your fingers fighting the cold and typing out a message to ray. 

-hey, i watched your set. you were great!

a sense of superiority dawns over you. do the others have his number? fuck no, they don’t.

your eyes follow ray as he walks out the stage with his guitar in one hand and the amplifier in the other. fuck, he’s strong. 

the tequila has hit you, you realize, as you rake your eyes over his body from the crowd, a strange sense of jealousy over someone you met only yesterday pricking at your chest. your phone vibrates against your palm in your coat pocket, and you see a text from ray.

-super! you wanna come backstage?” 

bing-fuckin-o.

you send a thumbs up and begin your trail around the venue, budding anxiety popping like bubbles. your eyes scour for the backstage, or any group of girls bunched together. where there’s smoke there’s fire, after all. 

you hear your name through the commotion of screams and giggles and whip your head in the direction, spotting him. he waves from inside a shed, the door open for anyone who wants to meet the band. you flash a smile, feeling giddy that he has the same interest in you as you do after only a few days of meeting him. 

he’s just being nice, you tell yourself.

he wants to fuck you, you argue, immediately knowing which part of you is the drunk one. 

you fight the wind, running toward the shed that has a string of fairy lights wrapped around the inside of the room. the room isn’t huge; enough for about twenty people to stand around and mingle. a sudden warmth embraces you as you blow a tired breath out and approach ray who’s nursing a beer, his eyebrows shooting up.

“you made it! how’d you like us?” ray raises his voice over the slightly loud music playing over somebody’s bluetooth speaker. you look over at the noise and look up at him through your eyelashes, feeling smaller than him. 

it turns you on. 

“you were awesome! the way you shred, it was so fucking cool.” ray hears you curse for the first time and giggles, the same toothy grin flashing across his face. he takes a swig of his beer, bringing the mouth of the glass bottle to his- wow his lips were plump.

the shed is barely lit, a lavender-colored sunset light on the right corner of the floor was the only light source. a strong scent of cigarettes and weed lingers in the air and occasionally clears out as the door opens when someone has to go out to piss, you assume. people huddle in groups, some way larger than the others. but ray stood alone when you walked in.  

he leans down to you, and your heart stops momentarily. his breath fans the shell of your ear. his face was fucking near yours. 

“i didn’t think you would make it.” he says, this time at a regular volume now that his lips were right near your ears. you shiver when his breath hits your skin, failing to compute what he says for a second.

you lean toward his ear, pulling him in by his arms on reflex because he seems too far to your tipsy ass brain, “of course i did. i need to get my grades up!” you joke, hoping to god he sees the humor lacing your voice. 

he chuckles, oh how sweet his voice is, you think, relief fighting the cortisol in your brain. 

“ray! what are you doing all the way over-” you hear his name being called, a blur of red hair knifing through the little crowd around him. you could see girls’ hands drag across his chest and even grab his shirt and he flashes them an obligatory get-the-fuck-off-me smile before catching up to the man in front of you. 

it is gerard, his red hair dripping in sweat making him the most easy to recognize. you watch the shorter guy turn his head towards you, “who’s this, ray?”

ray introduces you, “i tutored him yesterday.”

gerard’s eyes scan you from head to toe, a polite smile appearing, “good to know you’re not trying to rip ray’s clothes off like that crowd back there.”

if only he knew. you chuckle at his comment, looking at ray nervously before turning toward gerard, “you guys were super great, by the way.”

“you’re sweet, aren’t you.” gerard tilts his head, his fingers massaging ray’s biceps. you believe gerard notices the way your eye twitches at his move on ray and the corner of his mouth perks up, “huh, maybe not.” 

the crowd filters out of the shed, leaving the band and a couple of their friends, you assume, to let their hair down and get a couple of drinks in. 

“how long do these,” you look around at people rolling joints and pout, impressed, “...afterparties go on for?” 

ray looks up, trying to come up with an answer, “uh, like a few hours, no one knows really. i live on campus so i leave whenever i want to, sometimes g and frank stay back. sometimes we see mikey come to practice the next day with the same clothes on,” he shrugs, “it’s different every time.”

you aren’t sober by any means, but you aren’t piss-drunk either when you meet frank and mikey, the shorter one with a scorpion tattoo on his neck, with closer inspection, betraying his onstage persona. mikey, who you’re told is gerard’s younger brother, is as quiet as he seems when he plays on stage. you smile at him and make small talk, compliment his neon genesis evangelion shirt and he grins in surprise, revealing his pointy canines. 

ray is across the room, mingling with some people who you assume are from other bands who performed before them. a man with a shorter stature and a fuckton of eyeliner, wearing a zip-up hoodie that barely hid his torso, a tattoo around his collarbone with nothing underneath, sips on a cigarette and talks to ray, looking up at him like you did yesterday.

you don’t realize how long you’re staring until ray finds your stare, downing the beer he holds so casually between his index and middle finger. your gut flips. heat spreads from your chest to your stomach, making you crush your paper cup and throw it away in dismissal. 

you dream of the same flower you did yesterday. an odd sense of belonging tags along the haze you’re merged in. this time with another rose beside it. the roots of the other, pinker rose intertwined with yours, the ends connecting and becoming one. 

you wake up the next morning with a headache you haven’t had in months. you’ve heard of hangover remedies like swallowing a raw egg yolk. but you would never do that, even if it meant you were throwing up in the paper bag near your nightstand. which you do. 

admittedly, throwing up makes you feel better before you realize what you have to do today. 

the stack of papers on your table resembles mount everest as you contemplate the quantity of it all. not only had you forgotten about the project, but it is also due tomorrow night.

grabbing a coffee and a breakfast sandwich from the cafeteria, you sprint back to your dorm, trying not to wake your roommate up who had worked late last night and met you on the way to your shared room after the afterparty with ray’s band. 

ray was offering and insisting that he drop you off since he invited you there, but you politely declined, horny and exhausted out of your mind. 

the way he looked at you last night. his gaze clinging to every inch of you before looking away, had not only given you some interesting dreams that may have involved getting fucked in the lecture hall, but also left a lasting feeling that there was a ball of fire in your ribcage. 

you consider asking ray for help on your project. 

no, you can’t. he has better things to do. 

scanning through the question on the paper only makes you lean into the idea. suddenly forgetting everything ray taught you the day before. time blurs for you, and you don’t realize you have already texted ray and asked him if he can help you, fixing your hair and second-guessing your outfit.

wait, why did you care?

your phone dings. 

-all of the study rooms are booked :( 

you throw your phone on the bed, the pile of papers making your stomach sink lower into your body. fuck, you’re going to fail the class. you’re going to fail all because you went to the show yesterday to look at this fucking boy, who caught your fucking eye, and you wanted to fuc-

-unless you’re okay with me coming over.

you would be lying if you said your heart didn’t pound so hard against your rib cage that your ears started ringing. you send the same thumbs up emoji, pretending to be casual, regular; anything synonymous with normalcy. the coffee in your system kicks into overdrive; you straighten out your room, tell your roommate to get the fuck out once she gets up and receive a bunch of sex jokes in exchange, all of which you blush at. 

“have fun blowing that dude,” she yells, probably loud enough for your neighbors to hear. she closes the door on the way out, missing the paper ball you threw at her. 

*

“oh wow, your room is way cleaner than mine.” ray appears at your dorm in another tight black shirt, this time with the iron maiden logo that has clearly fought the washer and lost the fight multiple times. 

you see him duck through the door frame, fixing his hair back into position, and you try not to feel your heart wrench at the sight of him being adorable. you bring the papers down to the floor, a signal for ray to mirror you. he sits next to the foot of the bed, leaning against the wooden leg. his hands wrap around his knee, neck craning near yours to get a better look at the questions laid out on the fluffy grayish white carpet. 

you don’t realize that the shorts you’re wearing ride up your thighs, almost presenting themselves to the taller figure in the room. your legs lay on top of each other, almost parallel to the direction ray faces. you prop yourself up on the ball of your left palm, the arm that is stretched behind you, leaning into ray. ray begins helping you, talking about the different mistakes you make as you go through the process of solving the questions. his voice rings near your face, and you find yourself adjusting your seat on the carpet, moving the hem of the shorts closer to your pelvis. 

ray begins stuttering, and for a while you wonder what that is about. he strokes his chin like he’s thinking hard but it is clear that he is pretending to do so. the room gets hotter and you turn your head to check the thermostat. 

it’s the same. 

maybe it is the way you meet ray’s eyes, his plump, berry lips curving into a smirk at every joke you crack, or the way he, at least you think, gets distracted by your legs on display. he bends down to the papers, the fabric of the shirt stretching over his back, and you can’t help but think about leaving scratches on his back and trailing your fingers down his spine. 

ray smells like soap and the kind of cologne that a college kid can afford, not too charming, not too repellant. his hair is nearer to you than his face, and you can smell his shampoo that’s kind of coconut-y and beachy, and you try your best not to audibly inhale. 

you go through the papers at the speed of lightning with ray there to coach you through it. you chew and bite your lip, working through the problems with utter concentration. sometimes you don’t realize that ray is talking, and you end up ignoring him and apologizing for spacing out at the project. 

“holy shit, you were focused huh? like shiva at his penance,” ray comments, and you don’t understand. and he figures.

“shiva is a hindu deity. he’s known to be the sage of all sages, nobody would disturb his penance on top of this mountain in india,” he says, like he's almost embarrassed about knowing trivia. 

“wow…” you trail off, “and you just know all this?”

he chuckles, ducking his head and looking back up, “i used to google things a lot as a kid…” you cock an eyebrow, not believing him.

“...and maybe i still do.” he admits, palming his face, hiding that smile of his you love to see. 

“i admire that actually. i used to be obsessed with dinosaurs, google was like my life for a good few years” you comment, not expecting his countenance to be that of enthrallment; almost childlike joy. 

“you’re kidding, right? i did too! if you ever come over, you’ll see dinosaur stickers on my laptop and some of my drawers.” and you try not to think too much about the implication of the statement. 

you sort through the papers to make sure you don’t miss a single page and then turn toward ray, who was closer than before. you see specks of gray and black in his eyes, the way his nose bumps up slightly, freckles adorning his olive-toned skin. you notice he has dimples, appearing with each smile. his toothy grin melts you, and you feel that similar warmth you felt last night blossoming in your ribs. 

your breath hitches in your throat before you realize you’re staring like a madman into his eyes. 

“good job today,” ray says, his hand shaking your shoulder, jolts of electricity branching up the point of contact. you look away, a tight-lipped smile masking the sudden pulse his compliment sent straight between your legs. 

“oh, thanks. i really couldn’t have done this without you.” 

ray waves you off, leaning away, upsetting you slightly, “of course you could have. i just pointed you in the direction, you were the one on the journey.”

“any chance you play dnd?” you question, almost teasing his attempt at being poetic.

“it’s that obvious, huh?”

you both laugh, voices ringing out. you don’t remember laughing like this in a while, especially with someone you admired this much. the laughs settle into a comfortable silence as the two of you look out at the plane passing through the window. 

“you know, you’re super talented.” you say, out of the blue, and immediately regret it, thinking you were giving away too much. he turns to you, you observe through your peripheral vision, almost like he knows you have more to say. 

“i mean. the way you just performed like it was breathing to you, it really is rare to see talent like that, especially in this dump of a town.” you finish, clearing your throat in the end, waiting for him to say something. 

“i don’t know what to say,”

“for starters, a thank you would suffice,” you quip, a humorous tone tagging along. 

he starts to rise from his seat, “thanks, i do appreciate it. it’s difficult for me to take compliments, though, if you haven’t figured it out yet.”

you ignore him, “oh yeah, you probably have to leave, sorry to keep yo-”

“no no! i love helping other students, you weren’t keeping me from anything else. i just have band practice in a few, so i have to get going,” 

you swear you hear regret in his voice but maybe you liked to lie to yourself. 

as you watch him see himself out, you wait for him to turn around, say something. 

come on, don’t leave without giving me something. 

“oh by the way,” ray turns around. you hope he doesn’t notice your eyes gleam at the sudden lightbulb moment of his. 

“there’s a mixer on sunday. the band’s gonna be there. you should come, if you’re not busy.”

you nod, and he leaves with a promise that he’ll text you the address. 

he does, followed by a text that says, “hope 2 c u :)”, and you receive a side eye from your roommate who watches you bury your face in your pillow and kick your feet. something about the way ray had to peel his eyes off your legs subconsciously makes you pick something that shows them off, ending up with fishnets and a short skirt you bought on a whim months ago that collected dust in the back of your closet. 

at this point, you know one thing. ray isn’t straight. you very well know you can imagine and exaggerate situations to fit your narrative, and that very well may be the case, but you don’t care. 

it’s your last year. it doesn’t matter if you’re rejected or if you really are imagining things. senioritis in university makes you hit a special low where you could care less what happened. you borrow a jacket from your roommate, ignoring the comment on how she would be really mad if you got ray’s jizz on it. 

*

sunday rolls in and your stomach does not stop jumping. you had somehow completed all your work ahead of time without having to ask ray for help. anxiety was nowhere to be found, just excitement and a little bit of nervousness to see him after days of texting him. 

he had sent you a picture of the dinosaur sticker on his drawer unprompted, and your heart skipped a beat at the notification before you began having conversations that extended late into the night. 

late night conversations turn into exchanging music recommendations and funny videos you find. he sends you videos of his band playing, and he’s the only one you watch, but of course you say, “you guys are going to make it big someday.”

saturday night before turning in, you text him.

-good luck. can’t wait to see you guys perform.

-you’re sweet.

you keep going back to the text, giggling at it throughout the day, even as you get dressed for the mixer. you keep telling yourself he’s being nice but you are at the event, looking around for ray or gerard, or anyone you know. a rotating light hung low in the middle of the floor, a small podium for people to perform at the mixer. people hover around the bar, clearly no age check involved in the process as they swipe drinks and trail off with a huge smile on their faces. 

you feel a hand on your shoulder, and you swear your heart jumps into your throat. 

“ray! i’ve been trying to find you forever.” you look up at him, a sliver of purple and pink lights from the disco ball light streaks across his face like an illuminated scar. 

“so have i, come on back, this place is just for the general public,” he nods his head toward the other direction, fingers grabbing your wrist and nudging you toward him.

“ooo, i feel like a groupie,” you comment, and you hear him giggle, thanking god he doesn’t take you seriously no matter how much you want your words to be true. 

gerard sips a cigarette indoors, frank tunes his guitar with an ear down to the strings, and mikey is nowhere to be found. gerard looks amused at you as he blows smoke out. ray steps out to grab drinks, and you feel vulnerable. exposed. 

“so…” gerard begins, and you know he’s not about to make small talk, “ray has told me a lot about you.”

“all of us actually,” frank interjects, and you look at both of them, bewildered. 

“oh,” he talks about you? “all good things, i hope.”

“oh yes, overwhelmingly.” gerard ashes the stick between his fingers on the crystal tray near him. you sense mischief in his voice as he gives you the same head-to-toe scan that he did the first time you met him. 

“ray isn’t the outgoing type,” mikey walks in. you turn around in surprise to see him without his beanie and glasses for the first time. you can see how similar his features are to gerard’s. 

“yet, here you are, after what?” gerard tilts his head, “a week of meeting him?”

his tone isn’t malicious, nothing he says could sound malicious because he knew how to talk to people, how to handle them. that’s what made him a good frontman. 

“would you be surprised if i say i don’t gel well with strangers either?” you shrug and straighten your back, trying not to seem so timid around them.

they chuckle with you at the irony of the statement, gerard simply says, “i like you,”

you tilt your head slightly, not sure what to say and gerard offers you his cigarette, “ray doesn’t trust people often. and when he does he’s rarely wrong.”

you wave his offer with a small “no, thanks,” and he continues, “i hope he isn’t wrong.”

*

“are you okay?” ray asks you after the show, a beer in his right hand as he leans back into the wall of the green room. 

“yeah, i’m fine, i think i was just too close to the speakers so my head hurts a bit,” 

you aren’t fine. you’re thinking about what gerard said to you, and you barely paid attention to the performance and focused on distracting yourself with a shot of tequila that burned deliciously down your throat. 

you make eye contact with gerard across the room who is sitting on frank’s lap for some reason, his stare less threatening at this point because ray is there. he can’t be obvious. 

gut slowly burning and the alcohol in your system climbing up to your head, you ask ray if he wants shots and before you know it you’re carrying a small tray of salt and slices of lime with two little vials of tequila. 

“do you know how to do this?” you ask, not knowing what you got yourself into. 

“yeah it's super simple,” you hear, trying your best not to giggle at his go-to phrase, “lick, shoot, and suck.”

you dip the back of your hand in the hill of salt, where the index finger and the thumb meet, you glance at ray once before nodding, and lick up a stripe of your hand. ray does the same and you try not to think about the fact that that is how he would look between your legs. you throw your head back in unison with ray, squinted eyes and sour face, sucking at the bright green slice of fruit before smacking your lips. 

ray sits beside you, thighs pressed up against yours, leaning into you, giggling. a rosy blush rises to his cheeks, and his eyelids lie lower than before. your body is on fire. tipsy words making you stutter and laugh for no reason, forgetting about what gerard said for a while. 

ray walks you to your dorm that night, stumbling on the street and giggling at nothing in particular. you clutch his shirt for support as you burst into a fit of laughter at a joke he makes, not caring if you’re loud. 

the lingering breeze in the air makes your skin feel less hot even though being near ray was enough to make you sweat through a leather jacket. the streetlights shine down on the two of you, slowing down in your path and strolling, kicking pebbles and making a game out of them.

you ask him how he got into playing guitar, he tells you a story about how he got ripped off buying his first guitar that broke in the first fifteen minutes of playing it. you tell him about your university experience, your plans for your career. 

he beams at you with genuine admiration in his eyes, eyes softening. the spirit had weakened its effects on your body; you walked with a straighter back and a higher chin than before. almost like a gateway opening for your anxiety. 

“so, gerard told me something,” you begin, not sure what you want to know from striking this topic up.

“hm? what’d he say?” he asks, kicking the poor pebble on the pavement. 

“he said you don’t make friends that easily.” it sounds bad out loud, but you know that he knows what you mean. 

he chortles, “yeah? what else did he say?”

you raise an eyebrow, as if checking with him if you should continue, “he just… he said he hopes you’re not wrong with me.”

the two of you enter your dorm, shuffling through pockets and keycards. ray stays quiet. you noticed he does that when he isn’t ready to talk just yet because he’s thinking of the most logical and rational answer possible.

“why did he-” he begins, and you listen, ignoring the fact that ray follows you to your actual room, trying to justify his friend’s words. 

“he said something about how you can’t stop talking about me and thinking about me,” you flash a shit-eating grin, his eyes widening immediately. 

“that fucker…” he trails off, his head dropping down in defeat. 

“so it’s true?” you ask, leaning your back against the main door, a foot propped up on the surface. your back is straight, if not arched. you feel the after effects of downing two shots of fireball take over, the haze of the liquor blurs the line between “study buddies.”

he steps closer to you. there’s barely anyone outside in the hallways, they are either out partying or fast asleep. his hand trails up the doorframe, palm against the bumped surface. he’s so big that he casts a shadow over you from the main light. you notice his eyes trace your figure, backed up against a door, at his mercy. 

his left arm trails up your waist and stays there, “do you want it to be?” 

*

your bodies move in the dark, an orchestra of heavy breaths and moans bouncing off your dorm’s walls. the posters in your room are but flies on the wall as ray carries you to your bed, your legs wrapped tight around his waist. you lick into his mouth, his warm and soft lips slick with your saliva engulfing yours. 

you breathe in, the scent of his sweat driving your senses into a frenzy and your grip on his hair tenses up. he pulls away to look at your face under the moonlight beaming through your frosted window. ray tastes like the tequila you downed with him, deliciously bitter and intoxicating, his shiny lips sending waves of lightning to your clit. 

neither of you have spoken a word, fingers and lips grabbing and groping each other like hormonal teenagers away from their families at summer camp. ray places you on your bed, your sheets suddenly feeling foreign to you with him hovering above you, his fingers nosing toward the curve of your ass. 

involuntary whimpers escape your throat as his fingers stroke down the back of your thighs; he hooks one of them to the fishnets and rips them in one go, handling your thighs like he starves for something more than open mouthed kisses over his lips that make his cock stir in his tight jeans. the gasp you let out is more out of pleasure and surprise, and less of you mourning the loss of your clothing. 

“all this time, toro, yo- ah, fuck you- you liked me?” you kiss his neck as he works on peeling the fishnets off your legs, throwing your legs over his shoulders, elbows digging into your mattress, leaving kisses up your inner thighs. your arousal was obvious, ray- even you- could smell it through your underwear. 

ray stops and climbs up to face you, his fingers stroking your happy trail and you buck your hips for more just at his touch at your sensitive waist. he asks you if you’re okay and if you want to stop, you need to tell him. 

you grab him by his collar and pull him in, teeth clashing, skin feeling like a burning matchstick, flame eating away at its wooden body. you blabber nonsense, not able to get enough of his full lips around yours; hands lacing around his waist pulling him so close that if he didn’t pull away you would be crushed by his body weight. he kisses down your stomach, his calloused fingers soothing under your hoodie and to your breasts, tracing under the mounds of flesh before his hands flew to your thighs. 

soft trailing kisses become warm, careful presses down your stomach. you breathe like you don’t want him to hear how bad you need him, but your efforts are soon wasted as he presses his nose against your clit. 

inner thighs pressing into his ears, hips bucking up to the warmth of his mouth over the damp cotton underwear, you look down at him, locks of curls falling beautifully over his eyes. his tongue licks a stripe up through the fabric, the frills of your skirt resembling one of those bell-curves ray drew on the whiteboard the first time you met him, with him underneath it.

skilled tongue that circles on your clit before curling his digits under the hem of your panties, yanking the fabric off your skin, a sudden chill making you feel exposed. ray doesn’t let you feel that way any longer; his tongue licks up the folds of your pussy, tasting you whole and you almost pass out from the sheer euphoria locking down the ends of your spine on your bed, the arch in your back pushing your clit further against his nose. 

you beg and beg and beg him to do something. he simply chuckles and swipes the pad of his thumb on your slit before dipping his middle finger into you, a guttural groan emanating from your throat. your feet move against his crotch and you feel his dick strain against his tight jeans, his tongue replacing his finger and tugging you into his face, delving into you. 

hands thread through his curls, clutching and pulling at him needing to feel a release expeditiously. the hotness of his mouth against your pulsing core has you palming your tits hoodie, playing and pinching at your nipples. 

teeth pulling at the skin on your thighs, making you moan helplessly has him circling your clit with his thumb, wanting to hear more of your voice. you chant his name like a prayer, like he would somehow lift your soul up to the heavens with his tongue. 

his stubble adds delectable friction to your cunt and you gasp like your life depends on him; you forget everything. every word, every person in the world, every fucking thing is wiped clean like patterns in the sand under the foamy waves of the ocean. 

your thighs clench around his head, the honestly fucking corrupt noises of him devouring your pussy muffling under the flesh of your tastefully bruised thighs. he hums lowly, gulping and licking and gorging, the vibrations of his voice (that you didn’t know could get that fuckin low) driving you closer to the white light of orgasm that seems so close. 

his moans crescendo as the heels of your feet grind into his cock, his lips pressing and sucking harder at your clit, his fingers that once moved carefully in your slick walls, now quickening and curling up into you. 

you plead, you beg, you pray to him, hips jerking againsts mouth as his teeth lightly graze over the swollen lips of your cunt, your nails scratch his scalp perfectly, the tip of his tongue licks up your clit perfectly and his fingers, oh his fingers, scratch an itch seated so deep inside you that you swear you see stars before tipping over the edge, bottom lips falling open in a silent plea.

you ride his nose, his tongue, you push his head down, fist his hair, do whatever it takes, to make your orgasm last as long as possible, ankles meeting at the back of his neck. the way your legs shake at his last lap on your swollen clit, moonlight reflecting off of his beautiful brown eyes and your arousal dripping down his chin makes you go dizzier- if it was even fucking possible- and you feel like you’re high on the world’s most euphoric drug. 

you smile down at him, fingers holding his cheeks gently, nudging him up to meet your face; his palms digging into your ruined sheets on either side of you, lowering his wet lips onto yours, wanting you to taste yourself against his tongue. you breathe into his kiss, his hair falling on your face, you feel him smile against your mouth and you suddenly remember. 

“ray, do you want me to-” you start, eyebrows twisting up in concern and he cuts you off with another sweet kiss to your lips.

“you expect me to not cream my pants when you’re splayed out like this in front of me, in this little fucking thing around your waist?” his words sound harsh, but admiration fills his eyes, and you know it’s just an amalgamation of what the both of you have been feeling for the past few days. 

“you fucking-” you sputter, still recovering from incredible high- the type of orgasm that the little toy in your nighstand or your fingers could never give you, “-you fucker.”

he sits back on the bed, pulling down your skirt and helping you up to sit, his hands sturdy as a brick wall holding you up while your legs still solidify. as viciously as he ate you out mere minutes ago, he was back to being himself, sweet, nerdy, kind ray. helpful as ever. 

“can i take you out tomorrow?” he asks, his thumb stroking yours, like he’s afraid he’ll break you. 

you kiss his neck and then his jaw, smiling up at him, “just text me the address.”

[redroses07]

Last night I had a dream that Gerard Way was my therapist, and he told me that mcr5 was being released soon. Reputable source?

[horroribledeath]

No one talks about red blazer Gerard enough and I wish they did

[dumblilb]

till my jaw locks and my tonsils are raw

[hearts4golbach]

Until You Graduate.

Pairing:

Teacher!Ray Toro x Student!Reader.

A/n:

this one SHOULDVE been titled 'oh my god here fucking take it damn ashlee'

proofread

Warnings:

pet names (sweetheart, honey, good girl, pretty girl, baby,) unrealistic sex, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, slapping (ass AND face), size kink, face fucking, cream pie, rough sex, no protection (wrap it before you tap it...)

Word count:

2.0k

The last period of the day. Music theory. College music theory was no joke, especially as a senior in college. You had been taking it all four years, what more could there be to learn? Although, throughout the past 4 years, you had gotten to know the teacher very well. His name was Mr. Toro, well, Ray Toro. You weren't quite sure how to describe your relationship with him. Of course, he looked at you as a student and you viewed him as a teacher. There was always something there though, a little tinge in your stomach when his eyes met yours and the soft blush on his face when you complimented the color of his tie. It made you want to rip his shirt off and-

"Good afternoon, Ms. L/n," he greeted cheerfully, waiting at the door to greet his students as he usually did.

He startled you out of your thoughts. You looked up from the floor and shot him a half smile. "Afternoon, Mr. Toro."

"Today is just a study hall day, catch up on your missing work in *this* class," he emphasized. He raised an eyebrow at you.

Okay, maybe you were failing his class. It's not like you didn't understand the material, but the homework wasn't for the weak. "I-," You began to protest or attempt to defend yourself but knew it would be pointless, "okay."

Another student approached, and he greeted them with a smile. Mr. Toro lowered his voice. "Why don't you come see me after class? We can talk about this later."

You nodded and made your way to your seat. Once the bell rang, he greeted the whole class before explaining that it was a catch-up day. Of course, you did your best to catch up. 3 agonizing assignments later (after spending half of the time daydreaming) the final bell of the day rang. It was Friday, and you were desperate to get back to your dorm, but you had your meeting with Mr. Toro.

Once everyone had left, Mr. Toro called to you. "Y/n, why don't you pull up a chair?"

You nodded, dragging a chair over to the front of his desk. He closed his laptop and locked his fingers together, leaning towards you. "Great job getting some assignments done," he praised. "Now, why have you been slacking off in my class?"

You sighed, resting your head in your hand. Your eyes scanned his curl-framed face for any sign of anger, but there proved to be none. "There's just been a lot on my plate, especially with midterms coming up I-"

You began to ramble before he cut you off. "I've heard that so many times, give me a real answer."

You swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in your throat. You couldn't form words or any other excuse, you just haven't been doing the work.

He tsked under his breath, standing up and walking around the desk. "You're one of my best students, Y/n. It's disappointing to see you slack off."

"I'll do anything I can to make it up, Mr. Toro," you couldn't hide the suggestiveness of your tone. He was far from phased.

He hummed, "I'm sure you would." He stood behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders. "Do you think I don't see you staring at me during class?" His hands slid down slowly, moving to the first button on your blouse. "I may be younger than your other teachers, but I'm not naive."

"I know, Mr. Toro." You chewed your bottom lip, excitement bubbling in your stomach followed by heat pooling in your panties.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear. "If you want me to stop, tell me, okay?"

"No, no." You replied immediately. "Please, don't stop."

He smirked, placing a kiss on your cheek. "Good girl," he unbuttoned the first one, making his way to the second. "But you haven't been very good— zoning out in class, not doing what you're told, wearing those tiny fucking skirts that drive me crazy.."

You clenched your thighs together as he undid the next button. "I'll start being good, Mr. Toro. I promise.."

"Promising doesn't cut it. Someone needs to teach you a lesson, and I'm glad to be that someone. Get up." After he undid the third button, he moved his hands away from you. You did as he told, quickly standing up and turning to face him. He rested his hand on the nape of your neck. "The word is papers, okay?"

You nodded eagerly. He smirked and crossed his arms. "Please, Mr. Toro-" You weren't exactly sure what you were begging for.

"Turn around and bend over."

You bent over his desk, resting your cheek on a stack of papers. He groaned at the sight of you. He hiked your skirt up and pulled your panties down with one swift motion. His hand moved to where you needed him the most, running his calloused fingers through your wet folds.

"God, you're already so wet for me," he placed a hard slap on your ass, making you yelp. "Have you thought about this a lot?" He questioned, rubbing the red mark on your flesh. You nodded. "Words, honey."

"Y-yeah, all the time," your voice was breathy as you anticipated his next move.

"Tell me about it," He placed another slap on the opposite side, making you whine.

"I've thought about your hands all over me, especially-" another hard whack came down on your ass, "fuck.. especially late at night. I've thought about sucking your- ah!" Another hit on your sore skin. "S-sucking your dick under the table while you're trying to teach class..."

He cut you off by shoving two fingers deep inside of you. A loud moan slipped from your lips. You whined at the loss of contact whenever he immediately retracted his fingers. One hand gripped your hip while the other continued to smack your ass.

"I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?" He hummed. "What else?"

"I've thought about you deep inside of me, fucking me so-" you whined as he slowly circled your clit before another loud smack rang through the room. "so hard I can't walk the next day.."

He let out a low chuckle. "You're so good for me," he rubbed the bright red handprint gently, "takin' it like a champ, sweetheart." He gripped your forearms and pulled you flush against him. You felt his clothed cock pressing into you, begging for release. His hands slid down to your waist, then your hips as he kissed your neck. "Get on your knees."

You whirled around and dropped to the floor. Your panties were tangled around your ankles and your skirt had fallen back into place as you reached up to unbuckle his belt. Before you could, his hand met your cheek. "Who's in charge here? You *always* ask for my permission."

"Can I, Mr. Toro?"

"Can you what?" He emphasized, rubbing your cheek before slapping you again.

"Can I please suck your dick?" You looked at him through your eyelashes.

"Go ahead, pretty girl," he let you pull down his dress pants and boxers, allowing his thick cock to spring free. His grip on your hair grew tighter as he guided you towards his aching cock.

He was bigger than you had imagined. You weren't sure if you could take it. Nonetheless, you took his throbbing tip into your mouth and began to suck as if your life depended on it. He pushed your head down, his tip hitting the back of your throat. You gagged, tears stinging your eyes as you held eye contact with him.

"You look so pretty like this," He grunted, "choking on my cock."

You hummed in response as he began to thrust into your mouth. He gripped your hair at the scalp, keeping your head in place as he began to fuck your mouth. You ran your tongue along the veins, closing your eyes as tears began to fall. Your mascara smeared, creating an even better sight for Ray. He placed another slap on your cheek, making you wince as the ache between your legs grew stronger.

"Shit," he mumbled, tossing his head back as he rocked his hips faster. The lewd, wet noises of you choking on his cock filled the room along with his moans and groans of pleasure. "Okay, okay," he pulled you off of him, a string of saliva connecting you to his dick. "That's enough."

You whined, wanting— no, needing him to finish in your mouth.

"Go sit on the desk." His curly hair was disheveled and sweat began to bead on his forehead. God, he looked sexy.

You followed orders, sitting on the desk. He stood between your legs, gripping your thighs tight. He pressed his tip against your tight hole, looking up at you for confirmation. You nodded eagerly, needing him inside of you. He wrapped his hand around the base and began to push into you. You squeezed around him, barely accommodating to his size.

You let out a cry, a mix of pain and pleasure washing over you as you propped yourself up on your elbows. He pushed deeper inside of you, making you scream and he wasn't even halfway in. "M-Mr. Toro, I-I can't.."

He shushed you, digging his fingers into your hips. You were sure there'd be bruises in the morning. "Come on, I know you can. Be my good girl, yeah?"

You whimpered, nodding. He shoved his thumb into your mouth, muffling the scream that threatened to fall from your lips as he bottomed out inside of you. You squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on how fucking good he felt inside of you.

"Fuck, baby. Look at *that*," he groaned.

You could *see* how deep he was inside of you, his tip bulging through your stomach. "Fucking shit," you cursed, which was only mumbling to him as the pad of his thumb pressed against your tongue.

He began to move, hitting your G-spot with every thrust. Lewd moans and squelching filled the room as you slowly adjusted to his size. Pleasure overruled the pain, making your eyes roll back as he kept his thumb in your mouth.

"You're so tight, god damn," he rested his head in the crook of your neck, biting the flesh softly before pulling away.

All you could do was nod as he quickened his pace. He laid another slap on your cheek before kissing it to get rid of the pain. He moved down to your neck, sucking and biting in an attempt to mark you up— claim you as his. He licked over the bite marks to soothe the pain.

His hand met your cheek once more. "You're perfect, fuck. 'Don't think i'll ever get enough of this pussy," he rubbed fast circled on your clit. His thrusts were punishing, his cock drilling into you. "Gonna fuck you dumb, sweetheart."

He wasn't lying. You couldn't form coherent sentences, overstimulated from his deep he was and how good he made you feel. "Yesyesyes-" You mumbled between cries and moans.

"You want me to fill you up, baby?" He groaned, his breathing ragged. His gaze met yours as you finally opened your eyes.

You felt a knot begin to form in your stomach. "Yes- yes, please, Mr. Toro."

He gripped the back of your head, bringing you forward to press a kiss to your forehead. "So, so perfect." He mumbled. His thrusts were sporadic as he began to reach his climax.

"'Gonna cum-" you whimpered, a loud moan following as he lifted your hips.

"That's it, cum on my cock. God, you're such a good girl," he praised as you came undone on his dick.

He fucked you through your high, not slowing down until he scooted his thick seed inside of you. He slowly rocked his hips, pumping you full until you were a limp, sweaty mess.

He pulled out, watching in awe as his seed dripped out of you. He peppered your face in kisses as you began to regain some strength, He wrapped his muscular arms around your back, pulling you closer to him.

"Fuck, I can't wait until you graduate."