bulletsera!gerard x f!reader 5.2k words
It was a particularly sad Friday night. Moving to a new city meant leaving my whole life behind, everyone and everything I had ever known or loved was left in my wake as I tried desperately to make sense of why I had done this. A fresh start sounded wonderful on paper, what could be better than an escape from the blistering heat and horrible memories of home? I kept telling myself that this move would force me to branch out and meet new people, however, this task unfortunately proved to be much easier said than done. As I stood at the back of the dimly lit dive bar, I came to the bleak realization that I had never felt as out of place or far from home as I did in that moment. Watching the ramshackle bands parade about on the stage, which looked to be about 2 stage dives away from caving in on itself completely, and the throng of people losing themselves in the crowd, a pang of loneliness shot through my heart. What I wouldn't have given to be a part of the crowd, to belong in a setting filled with such raucous joy instead of meandering by the bar like a lost puppy. That night, it truly seemed to me that I would never belong, that no matter where I went or what I did, I would always just be me.
I had resigned to myself the fact that this was to be my fate in life, an interloper on the outskirts of humanity. I made my way across the sticky floor to order one last drink and close out my tab as the shitty cover band on stage finished their set. I had a slight buzz that I was nursing with a near constant flow of cheap seltzers and decided that this one would be my last before calling it a night. Even with liquid courage coursing through my veins and flushing my body with warmth, I could not work up the confidence to insert myself into the crowd. I continued to hang towards the back of the venue and watched as the next band set up on stage.
They too looked like they didn't quite belong, a hodgepodge of individuals so vastly different from one another that seeing them together as a group was almost jarring. On one side of the stage, there was a short guitarist with a large tattoo on his neck, the subject of which I couldn't make out from my vantage point. Next to him stood the bassist, a tall lanky kid who had obviously rushed when straight ironing his hair backstage. The opposite side of the stage housed another guitarist with a tall build and curly hair that fell over his face as he leaned in close to his guitar, his long fingers meticulously tinkering with the tuning pegs. Finally, front and center was the singer whose skin was so pale he almost looked translucent under the harsh lights of the stage. He fidgeted nervously with the mic stand as the other members got all their equipment set up. There was something endearing about all of them, an unlikely bunch that held a nervous energy as they nodded to one another, signifying that each of them felt ready to start the set.
Without an introduction, they sprang to life and transformed into more confident versions of themselves. With each note that rang out into the cramped bar, they commanded attention from the crowd, more so than any act that had went on before them. It was fun to watch, yet I couldn't help but feel a bit morose as I ruminated about how there was nothing in my life that lit me up with passion the way that performing obviously did for them. I was always the same meek, awkward version of myself no matter what, I had no stage persona to hide behind.
Their set finished just as abruptly as it started, the final chords of their last song hanging in the air as the band turned back into the less grandiose versions of themselves they were when they first went on stage, like Cinderella when the clock struck midnight. "Thanks for having us tonight, we're, uh, My Chemical Romance," the front man mumbled into the mic before leaving the stage, the other guys following in tow. I finished off my drink as the next band came out, trying my best to remain undetected as I made my way through the bar to the back exit. The fresh air that hit me as soon as I opened the door was refreshing, especially after spending the last few hours packed in a room filled to the brim with sweaty bodies. My ears rang slightly as I leaned on the brick exterior of the building and lit a cigarette, doing mental calculations as I tried to figure out the fastest route home.
As I smoked, I vaguely noticed the door I had come out of opening and closing a handful of times behind me. I kept my gaze down, wanting to finish my cigarette in peace and be on my way. Consequently, I was startled when someone entered my peripheral vision. They maintained their distance and I listened as they flicked open a lighter and lit a cigarette of their own. Curiosity got the best of me and I stole a glance in their direction, and to my surprise, it was the vocalist of the band that had just finished their set. His gaze was also cast downward, his posture somewhat hunched and lacking the boldness he had on stage. His hair fell in a greasy black curtain that obscured most of his face, but from what little of it I could see, I could tell he was very handsome.
The more intimate setting of the bar's exterior mixed with my buzz from the alcohol and nicotine gave me the confidence to do the very thing I'd been avoiding all night, talk to someone. I cleared my throat and felt my mouth go dry as I spoke, "You were in that last band, right? You guys are really good." He looked up quickly, scanning my face as if he were trying to ascertain whether or not I was messing with him.
"Yeah. Thanks," he replied timidly, not making eye contact for longer than two seconds at a time. Undeterred by his anxious behavior, I continued the conversation. "How long have you been performing?" I asked as he took a particularly long drag.
He blew the smoke in the opposite direction of me before he answered, "Uh, a couple of months now. Not long." My shock must have been evident on my face as he let out a nervous chuckle when he looked up at me.
"No shit, I mean you're seriously a natural. I would've believed you've been doing this forever," I told him sincerely. A blush spread over his cheeks in response to my compliment. He rubbed the back of his neck as a shy smile appeared on his lips. "Well, thanks. I don't think we're that great yet, but we're getting there."
I was struck by his humbleness, most of the musicians that I knew from home were self-righteous assholes, his humility was a nice change of pace. I was pondering this over my cigarette when he spoke again, "You come to these shows often?"
I shook my head, "Not really, I just moved here. I was pretty into the local scene in my hometown, but this is my first show in Jersey."
"Makes sense, I figured you weren't a regular," he replied, taking another drag before he continued, "I would've definitely noticed you by now if you were." It was my turn to blush now, I shyly looked away to try to hide my reddening face.
"Well, after tonight I think I will be," I said with conviction. He smiled at that, lopsided and toothy. I couldn't help but grin back, his smile was infectious. As our cigarettes burned down to just the filters, we shared a moment of silence, neither of us quite ready for the interaction to end. He was the first to speak, "How are you getting home?"
I shrugged noncommittally, "I don't live that far, I figured I'd just walk." His eyes widened with concern at that. "Alone? This late?" he probed. I shrugged again, "I guess so, I have pepper spray if I need it." He shook his head, seemingly shocked at my nonchalance.
"I don't know if walking home alone in the middle of the night is a thing where you're from, but I wouldn't recommend that here. It's just not safe," I averted my gaze, embarrassed at my ignorance. Of course I knew it wasn't safe to walk home alone at night in an unfamiliar area, but I didn't really care about what could potentially happen to me. I had gotten to a stage in my life where the prospect of getting murdered really didn't seem all that bad. If it was gruesome enough, then eventually some beautiful B-list actress, that bears no resemblance to me, could play me in a movie that ultimately gets lukewarm reviews from the box office.
He let out a deep sigh, clearly measuring his next words. "I know we just met and all, but let me give you a ride. Please." I was surprised at his generosity, it had been a long time since someone had expressed actual concern for me, much less a stranger.
I mulled over the offer in my head, then nodded. "Yeah, you're right. I don't know what I was thinking, honestly. I can give you gas money if you want." He let out a slight laugh at that. "You don't have to do that," he said, starting to walk in the direction of his car. I followed close behind. "And you don't have to give me a ride," I countered.
"I guess not, but isn't it like, my civic duty, or something?" he teased. "Like, I couldn't in good conscience let a pretty girl walk home alone in the middle of the night." I laughed along with him, feeling butterflies in my stomach at the compliment.
"Yeah, but there could always be a twist," I offered. He raised his eyebrows at me, urging me to continue. "Like, what if the handsome stranger offering me a ride in the middle of the night is actually a serial killer? That'd make for a pretty good story I think." He feigned offense, scoffing in response.
"Actually, a better twist would have you end up as the murderer," he pointed out, "That'd be like, an M. Night Shyamalan level twist. No one would see it coming." I raised my hands up in mock defeat. "You caught me, I was totally going to murder you when we got to your car."
"Well, you better act quick," he joked as he pulled the car keys from his pocket. "This is it," he said gesturing to a somewhat beat up car parked around the back of the building. He unlocked the passenger side door and opened it for me.
"Thank you again, really," I said, the humor that had been in my voice changing to sincerity. "I don't think I even asked what your name is," I realized aloud as I sat down in the car. He chuckled, "No, I guess we skipped that part. I'm Gerard." I told him my name in response. He gave me another toothy grin before walking around the car to get in the driver's seat.
"Which way are we headed?" he asked as the engine hummed to life. I directed him the entire way to my apartment. The drive itself only lasted about 5 minutes and I felt a pang in my heart as we pulled up in front of my building, knowing that all that waited for me inside was my empty room. I felt a little silly for feeling so sad about leaving him, we had met less than an hour beforehand and I had already grown attached. The quiet humanity that poured out of him was a breath of fresh air, I had been so used to the cruelty of the world that his small actions made me feel more deeply grounded than I think he realized. I unbuckled my seatbelt and turned to look at him, my breath catching in my throat when I noticed his gaze was already fixed on me.
My body buzzed with adrenaline and before I could stop myself, I spoke. "Do you want to come up?" I asked, the question coming out a little more desperate than I had intended. His answer was immediate, "Yes, definitely."
It took me two attempts to unlock my front door, my hand was trembling so badly that I entirely missed the keyhole on my first try. He followed me over the threshold as I groped the wall for my light switch, still not entirely acclimated to the layout of the new apartment. As the lights flickered on, I held back my cringe at the space illuminated before us. There were mountains of boxes stacked against the far wall, still filled with remnants of my old life. I was in the process of moving in, but my depression got in the way of my unpacking most days. The apartment was modest, around 1000 square feet, but the sheer amount of clutter I had accumulated made the space feel even smaller.
"Sorry about the mess, I still haven't quite finished moving in," I said apologetically, suddenly feeling very vulnerable at the sight of him standing in my sad excuse of a living room. "I'd hardly call this a mess, honestly," Gerard dismissed with a shrug, moving to sit on the couch. I followed suit.
"I'm actually impressed you have your own place," he continued, "I'm still living at my parent's." I shrugged as I responded, "It's nothing much. And I was living at home too before I moved here. As nice as it is being on my own, I kinda miss it sometimes."
As I settled in to get more comfortable, I felt his arm snake around the back of the couch, just barely hovering over my shoulders. I cleared my throat awkwardly, trying to think of something to say. "I finally got my DVR and DVD player set up, I could put on a movie?"
"Sure, whatcha got?" he asked. I hopped off the couch to flip through my DVD collection, a small hoard I had put together over the years. "Depends, what're you into?" I asked as I bent down over the cardboard box that was currently housing all the discs that I was too lazy to put away. It took him a second to respond, I looked over my shoulder and found him trying and failing to hide that he had been checking me out as I bent over. My face turned a light shade of pink as he stammered out a response, "I'll watch pretty much anything."
I continued to rifle through my collection before making my pick. "You like horror?" I posited as I retrieved my copy of the original 1973 The Exorcist. He nodded animatedly at that and I popped the disc into the player before returning to my spot on the couch. "Oh man, I fucking love this movie. You have good taste," he said with actual admiration in his voice. "I know right," I quipped back as I gathered up the confidence to rest my head on his shoulder. His body tensed up, but he didn't pull away. He let out a shaky exhale that he tried to conceal with a cough, I could tell he was just as nervous as I was.
As the movie played, we both became more comfortable being around each other. By the halfway mark, he had stretched out on the couch and I laid my head across his lap. My heart skipped a beat every time he absentmindedly ran his fingers through my hair. I could feel him adjusting his position under me and I pretended to not notice his quickly growing bulge.
Suddenly, his hand moved to skim the top of my thigh. He whispered a soft "Is this ok?" as he traced small circles on my skin. I nodded, and he continued, his hand mapping the length of my thigh. I felt goosebumps raise on my skin at the tenderness of his touch, slowly migrating upwards to rest on the waistband of my skirt. He left it there for a moment, I could feel him above me regulating his breathing. I averted my gaze from the screen, looking up to find that he was already fixated on me, the movie long forgotten in his mind. My face felt hot under the intensity of his gaze as I sat up, moving myself to straddle his lap and wrap my arms around his neck. One of his hands remained on my waist while the other raised up to cradle my cheek.
"Is this ok?" I found myself asking. He didn't dignify my question with a verbal response; instead, he leaned in swiftly to close the gap between us, kissing me deeply. I reciprocated immediately, all the tension in my body disappearing once his lips finally found mine. I moved my hips tentatively, scared to break the sanctity of the moment. He gasped into the kiss and let both his hands settle on my waist, grabbing hold of me to set a more intense rhythm. I traced his bottom lip with my tongue and he readily opened his mouth, allowing me access. My hands were everywhere, his neck, his hair, his cheek, his arms, his back; I felt desperate to explore every inch of him. He strengthened his grip on my waist and began to meet each of my movements with one of his own, unabashedly dry humping me on the couch under the staticky tv light.
I could feel myself soaking through my panties, undoubtably leaving a wet spot on his jeans. From what I could feel beneath me, he seemed to have plenty to work with and I shivered at the thought. One of his hands slid around to the front of my waist, diving under the waistband and snapping the elastic of my panties against my skin. I made a pathetic noise in response as he continued his journey downward towards where I needed him most.
A cold wave of rejection hit me as his hand reached my unshaved bush and instantly jerked away. I pulled away from the kiss, fighting the embarrassed whimper that rose in my throat as I went to speak. His chest heaved as he took in deep breaths, leaning back to look at me quizzically. "I'm so sorry, I haven't been with anyone in a while and I wasn't planning on anything like this happening. I usually do shave I swear, I just-" He cut off my nervous ramble by shushing me and bringing his hands up to cradle my face once more. He looked me dead in the eye as he spoke, "I didn't pull away because I was grossed out, I pulled away because it excited me and I didn't want to finish too soon."
"Oh my god, you're perfect," I breathed out with relief as I leaned back in to kiss him with a renewed passion. We fell back into the same rhythm as before, this time with even more desperation seeping into every movement. As the movie came to an end and the credits rolled to no one, we broke apart once more. He whined as I got up to turn off the tv and I giggled at his neediness. "I'll be back in a second," I teased as he slumped into the couch. Instead of sitting back down with Gerard when I finished turning off the movie, I grabbed his hand and led him to my bedroom. He followed eagerly, trailing behind just enough to get a glimpse of my panties under my now hiked up skirt.
My heart pounded in my ears as I settled myself on my bed, pulling him down to rest atop of me. He leaned down to focus his lips on my neck, simultaneously slotting his knee between my spread legs and applying the perfect amount of pressure. I slid my hands down his back and sides, bunching up the hem of his T-shirt and urging him to remove it. As soon as it was off, he mirrored the move on me, promptly pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it aside before wrapping his arms around my back to unclasp my bra.
We both took a moment to admire each other, chests heaving and eyes alight with lust. The vast expanse of his upper half shone bright white under the streetlights that poured through my bedroom window, his pallor looked almost otherworldly beneath the soft glow. His eyes were trained on my chest and I nearly squirmed under the warmth of his gaze.
He leaned back down, refocusing his mouth on my neck as I rutted my hips against his thigh and ran my hands up and down his smooth skin. His hands glided gingerly down my sides and came to rest on my waist, gripping me tightly as he guided my movements against him. A delicious friction built between us while I shamelessly ground myself against him. Once he sufficiently marked up my neck, he ducked his head down to capture one of my nipples in his mouth, I gasped sharply at the surprising wet heat. Emboldened by his forwardness, I snaked my arms between us and began toying with the waistband of his pants. He switched his attention to my other breast, nipping slightly at the tender flesh as I worked open the button and zipper of his jeans.
He pulled away to clumsily shimmy his way out of the last of his clothing before fixating back on me, gently guiding me to raise my hips so he could strip my bottom half. His breath caught in his throat as my naked form laid in front of him on full display, his eyes darted anxiously from my bush to my face as if he suddenly didn't know how to proceed. Unsure of what was going through his head, I broke the tension by sitting up slightly and reaching to slowly stroke his length, looking him in the eye and asking once more, "Is this ok?" He groaned a low, guttural sound of affirmation and kissed me hastily, caging me in with his body as I increased the speed of my strokes. I now noticed that he was unshaven as well, something about that fact made the heat between my legs grow more incessant and I guided him towards the feeling.
He ran his tip through my folds and I shuddered at the contact. "Christ, you're so wet," he breathed out as he coated his tip with my arousal and pressed it gently against my entrance. He sank himself in slowly, allowing me time to acclimate to the stretch. I let out a pitiful whine as he bottomed out, raising my legs to wrap needily around his waist and trap him in the position. Gerard looked down at me with a glint of humor in his eyes when he spoke next, asking "Is this ok?" I let out a breathy laugh and nodded. "God, yes. Just fuck me already."
That was all the encouragement he needed as he swiftly started to pump into me at a quick pace, each thrust of his hips driving him deeper inside of me. My legs gripped around him tighter as I subconsciously angled my hips upward to allow him even more access. We kissed with a gentle intensity, swallowing the soft sounds coming from both of our mouths. The whole scene felt strangely intimate, as if we had been lovers for years and not strangers that met only a couple of hours beforehand. His hips rolled into mine as he brought his hand between us and started rubbing my clit with scary precision. I moaned into the kiss without breaking contact with his lips, he hummed back a comforting sound as he continued to circle my sensitive bundle of nerves.
A particularly deep thrust from Gerard caused me to yelp and tangle my fingers in his hair, tugging slightly to gain more purchase. "Just like that, oh my god," he murmured against my lips. I pulled harder, forcing his head back to look at me. He was rapidly unravelling, sweat shone on his forehead and his mouth hung agape as he leaned into the feeling of my fist gripping his hair. His fingers sped up against my clit and I writhed under his touch, my face equally contorted with pleasure. "So fucking beautiful," Gerard whispered and leaned back down to tenderly kiss me.
My toes curled as I desperately clung to his frame, moaning into his mouth as his fingers continued to circle my clit. I was getting close, every nerve ending on my body was alight as his thrusts got sloppier. I tried and failed to convey with words that I was on the edge of my orgasm, a string of nonsensical sounds left my mouth instead. Despite the unrelenting rhythm of his hips, Gerard's lips remained remarkably gentle, like he was kissing something precious and fragile. He hummed a soft sound of reassurance into the kiss as he felt me approaching my release.
It hit me all at once, I trembled in his grasp as he fucked me through it, my walls contracting greedily around his length. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes at the shockwaves of sensitivity that rolled through me. I could tell he wasn't going to last much longer, his thrusts becoming less coordinated and more incessant. I rolled my hips into his and slid my fingers back into his hair, grasping tightly at the base of his neck. That was all it took to push him over the edge, he came with a loud moan, burying himself deep inside of me, my legs locking him in place. I felt him shudder as he pumped the last of his load into my womb.
We laid there connected for a long while, holding onto each other tightly as if this could all disappear in an instant. I felt him soften inside of me and still, we didn't dare to part, my legs wrapped possessively around his waist and his arms cradling my frame. All the while our mouths worked in tandem, refusing to be the first to break the kiss.
I think we might have stayed there forever if not for the unfortunate pull of reality. He broke away reluctantly, still holding me in his embrace. The early morning sun had just barely started to creep through my window, casting a peachy hue on the parking lot outside. "It's getting pretty late, I should go soon," he whispered tentatively. My heart dropped and my grip on him tightened inadvertently when I spoke next "You're not staying?"
"I wasn't sure if you wanted me to," he answered plainly. "You're literally still inside of me. Of course I want you to stay," I retorted, trying to use humor to mask the insecurity that began to rise within me at his offer to leave. He laughed softly and looked down to where we remained connected. "You do have a point there."
"I seriously do need to pee though, we should probably move," I said, making no effort to break away from him. With an exaggerated sigh, he complied and released me, planting a kiss on my forehead before I could leave the bed. I slunk to my bathroom and took in my reflection in the mirror. I looked rough, my eye makeup had turned into a smeared mess, my hair was pointing in all different directions, and my neck was covered in hickeys. I stood there for a while trying to comprehend how he could have ever thought I was beautiful. I figured he must have just said it in the heat of the moment, that he couldn't have possibly meant it. No matter what state I was in, perfectly sober and put together or picking up the pieces of a drunken night, I never thought I was beautiful. In fact, I knew I wasn't.
I continued to stare at my reflection, the image contorting as my vision went in and out of focus. I worried that I had been too much and made him uncomfortable. I worried that he had actually wanted to leave and was only staying now out of pity. I worried that when I returned to my room, he would be gone without a trace and I would never see him again. I braced myself against the bathroom counter and forced myself to take deep breaths, wash the smudged makeup from my face, and tame my wild hair. I tried desperately to regain some semblance of composure before I walked back out.
I when worked up the courage to return to the room, Gerard was still laying exactly where he had been when I left. My heart fluttered as I settled back into bed; he pulled me back into his embrace and I rested my head on his chest. "Took you long enough," he joked. I huffed in response, "I was trying to make myself look somewhat presentable." Above me, he shook his head, "No need for that, you look beautiful regardless." He threw the word out again flippantly, as if each syllable leaving his mouth didn't send my body into a state of shock. I stayed quiet, unsure of how to proceed.
As I laid with him in the twilight counting his breaths, I worked up the courage to finally say what had been on my mind all night. Without moving my head up from his chest, too scared to make eye contact, I spoke quietly "I'm sure you do this sort of thing a lot, like after your shows and stuff, but I don't. I don't want to pressure you or anything, but I'd love to see you again some time." I held my breath as he took a beat to process what I was saying.
He sat up slightly and I followed, preparing myself for rejection as I forced myself to look at his face. His nose was scrunched up in confusion, like he was trying to work something out that wasn't computing in his mind. "I don't do this a lot," he finally answered, "I've actually never done this before tonight. Not like, sex, but hooking up with a stranger after a show. Or at all." It was my turn to ponder his response, the narrative I had made up about him in my mind shifting to make room for this new information. He continued while I turned over his words in my head, "I'd also love to see you again." His voice was gentle, a small smile pulled on his lips. I smiled back.
Finally at ease, exhaustion overtook us and we settled into bed. I let the comforting quiet of my room lull me to sleep in the warm embrace of my not-quite-stranger, not-quite-lover.