𖦹beans𖦹

(Gerard/fem!reader)Mikey’s new friend

(pt.1). (pt.2). (pt.3). (pt.4)

(Gerard/best friend fem!reader)

Magnolia

(Tbp!mikey/gn!reader)

the tour bus blues

(Leathermouth!Frank/Fem!Reader)

lost cause

lost cause head cannons

(Ben Marshall/fem!reader)

Pillow fight

You knew you were popular. 

Which made it all the more embarrassing, having to pull up for Saturday detention.

 Just because you talked back to a teacher.

You still think she deserved it honestly.

Respect goes both ways. Even for teachers.

You groaned, glancing at your mother in the drivers seat, who was still seemingly upset. She always was so uptight about things, church, food, your grades, everything.

You really only joined cheerleading because you wanted to piss off your mom. 

The older you got, the more you realized the best way to push your mom's buttons.

When you were younger, you refused to wear dresses and hated the color pink. But now? Looking perfectly pretty and wearing neon pink was the ultimate cover for doing whatever you wanted.

You got out of the car, looking back at your mom to wave- but she was already zooming away, a gust of exhaust blew behind her.

Sighing and looking around…you saw about 3 people approaching the building. So you began too.

You entered through the doorway, now in the school’s library being lectured by the coach… 

He’s such a creep.

There were five kids there, including you.

There was Frank, the rebel… the jackass.

There was Ray, one of the kids you were tutored by- he was cool, but reminded you of your mom.

There was Mikey, the jock… you dated him as a freshman, but he asked another girl to prom behind your back. You didn't even want to go anyways. 

You just dumped him.

Then there was you. You were on the cheer team, not the leader- but you were the sub- leader. You were always called bitchy. But really you just spoke your mind.

Then finally, there was illi. You didn’t know her really- you had gym with her, but she normally was in the girls locker room smoking whatever substances she could get her hands on. You admired her, she just didn’t give a fuck, she never felt the need to perform for anyone.

You sat in the seat closest to the front. You simply read your paperback until the teacher took your book from you. 

He’s such a dick.

With your only form of entertainment gone, you finally decided to take a proper look around the room. Ray was sitting behind you, the jock was across the aisle, you didn’t know where frank went, he was always doing something… Illi sat in the back.

When your eyes landed on her, you realized she was already staring right back at you. 

Her gaze was dark, heavy, and completely unblinking.

 As your eyes met, she didn't look away. Instead, a slow, shameless smirk spread across her face, and her tongue lazily swirled around the graphite tip of her pencil.

Gross. 

When coach Verman retreated back to his office, Illi didn’t hesitate to say something.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” She yelled across the room, her voice lazy and teasing.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

You turned back in your chair, staring at the ugly chalk board. God, she was always a pervert. When you saw her in the halls- her eyes would always drop to your chest- or your ass. 

Most girls would be mortified to get caught looking, but Illi always just smirked, completely shameless.

You expected her to stay in the back, but the squeak of sneakers on the linoleum floor told

you otnerwise.

You didn't look up as the footsteps got closer, stopping right beside your desk. Illi dragged an empty chair over, spinning it around so she could sit backwards, her arms slouched over the plastic backrest. Up close, she smelled faintly of clove cigarettes and cheap mints. Her oversized school tie was completely crooked.

"Don't be like that, y/n," Illi drawled, leaning her chin on her crossed arms, looking up at you through her messy, dark bangs and long wispy eyelashes.. 

"It's gonna be a long Saturday. We should really get to know each other. I've always wanted to know what a pretty cheerleader thinks about when she's not shaking pom-poms."

"I think about how much I want people to leave me alone," you said flatly, turning to look at her.

Instead of backing off.

her smirk just grew wider.

"Ouch. Harsh. She bites."

Wanting to ignore her completely- and still annoyed that the coach had confiscated your book- you unzipped your leather purse.

You fished around until your fingers hit your small, pink makeup bag. You pulled out a compact mirror and a tubes of lip gloss, popping the mirror open to check your reflection and pass the time.

Illi let out a dramatic, exaggerated groan, rolling her head back. 

"Oh, come on. Makeup? In detention? Who are you trying to look good for, the ghost of the old librarian? It's corporate brainwashing, y’know."

You paused, your gloss hovering over your lips.

You looked at her pale skin, the chaotic, smudged black eyeliner that looked like it had been applied three days ago, and her chapped lips. A spark of your usual blunt, competitive energy flared up.

"You're one to talk," you fired back, a sharp smile tugging at your lips.  

"You look like a raccoon that got electrocuted. Honestly, Illi, a little color wouldn't kill you. It might actually make you look alive."

Illi blinked, genuinely caught off guard for a fraction of a second before she recovered, her eyes darkening with a playful, dangerous glint.

She leaned even closer into your space, her chest pressing against the back of her chair.

"Oh yeah?" she challenged, her voice dropping an octave. Her wide smile revealing her crooked pointy teeth

 "Why don't you fix it then. I dare you. Or are you too scared to get your perfect little hands dirty on  some freak like me?"

You held her gaze, refusing to be too intimidated by her bold act. You slowly set your lip gloss down, unzipped the bag fully, and pulled out a pack of makeup wipes and a tube of lipstick.

"Sit still then," you said, your voice remarkably steady as you slid your chair an inch closer.

The exact moment your fingers reached out and gently took her by the chin to tilt her face toward the light, Illi's smug smirk completely vanished.

The library was dead silent, but the air between your chairs felt incredibly loud.

You pulled out a makeup wipe. When your fingers gently gripped Illi’s jawline to steady her face, a physical shudder ran right through her. The loud, overconfident girl who had just been making shameless jokes completely froze.

"I told you to sit still," you murmured, keeping your voice low so the boys across the room wouldn't look over.

"I-I am," Illi stuttered, her voice cracking slightly.

The lazy, teasing drawl she usually used was entirely gone. It was replaced by a tight, breathy gasp.

Up close, her dark eyes were wide, darting all over your face like she was trapped. She was barely even breathing. As you brought the wipe up to her eye, her eyelids fluttered shut, her long eyelashes brushing against your knuckles.

You carefully began to wipe away the smudged eyeliner from under her left eye, tilting her chin a bit higher so her face went into the light. Illi swallowed hard, her throat bobbing against her crooked school tie.

"Y’know," she tried to whisper, attempting to regain some of her bravado, "most girls pay a lot of money to get me this close to their face."

It was a weak attempt at a joke, and she couldn't even look you in the eye while saying it. You let out a quiet, knowing chuckle. You leaned in just an inch closer, your thumb sliding firmly along her jawline.

“You have a lot of mouth for being this inexperienced,” you said flatly, watching her face closely.

Illi’s eyes snapped open in shock. She tried to find a comeback, her lips parting, but all that came out was a soft, helpless stammer. "I- no, I'm not- I just—"

A deep, crimson blush rushed up her neck and flooded her pale cheeks, completely bypassing the need for any makeup. She went entirely compliant in your grip, melting under your touch, her tough outcast act shattered. For a second, you found yourself staring at her flushed face, realizing just how much power you had over her.

Slam!

The heavy library door clicked open, and Coach Vernon stepped out of his office, adjusting his whistle.

"Alright, I'm heading down to the teachers' lounge for thirty minutes. If I catch any of you roaming the halls, it’s another Saturday. Got it?"

You instantly pulled your hand back, capping the makeup wipes. Illi cleared her throat loudly, turning back around in her chair and suddenly becoming very interested in her shoes, her ears burning bright red. She looked completely dizzy.

Your stomach felt oddly jittery. Needing an excuse to escape the sudden tension, you stood up. "Coach? Can I use the restroom?"

The coach grunted a vague approval as he walked out into the corridor. You grabbed your purse and slipped out behind him, the heavy library doors swinging shut.

The hallway was freezing, smelling of floor wax and weekend emptiness. You walked past the restrooms and stopped at the block of silver payphones near the main office. You had been stuck in detention since 8:00 AM, and your current boyfriend, Andrew, hadn't paged you or called your phone once to see if you were okay.

You dropped a quarter into the slot and dialed his number, wrapping the coiled black cord around your wrist.

It rang four times before a girl's voice answered, competing with the loud, muffled thumping of bass music in the background. It was Heather, one of the junior cheerleaders.

"Hello?" Heather giggled into the receiver.

"Heather?" your voice went sharp, all the warmth from the library evaporating. "Why are you answering Andrew's phone?"

There was a sudden, panicked hush on the other end, followed by rustling and the sound of a bedroom door slamming shut to muffle the party music.

 "Oh! Hey! Um... look, don't be mad, okay? Andrew got totally wasted at the pre-game bonfire aftermath. He's... kind of passed out on the bed. In my room."

Your grip tightened on the plastic phone until your knuckles turned white. You could hear Andrew’s distinct, goofy laugh in the background, followed by him slurring, “Who’s on the phone, babe?”

The realization didn't break your heart. It didn't make you want to cry. Instead, a wave of clarity washed over you. You hated the cheer team. You hated the snobbish, fake parties. And you absolutely loathed him.

"Tell him he's single," you said, your voice deadpan and entirely steady.

You slammed the receiver back onto the hook with a loud CLANG that echoed down the empty corridor. You leaned your forehead against the cold brick wall, taking a deep breath. You weren't sad, you were just furious that you had spent so long pretending to be someone else for a bunch of  bitchy parasites.

When you turned around to head back to the library, you froze.

Illi was standing a few feet away near the water fountain. She had followed you out, looking completely anxious. Her makeup was still half-wiped, her tie was still crooked, and she was nervously fidgeting with her fingers.

She looked at your face, seeing the rigid, angry set of your jaw, and all of her previous submissive embarrassment turned into fierce protectiveness.

"Hey," Illi said softly, stepping closer, her voice quiet. "You look like you want to murder someone. Want me to go slash his tires? Because I have a pocket knife in my boot” she smiled.

“You’d really do that?” You asked her, a small smile forming on your lips again.

“Mhm!” She hummed way too excited.

You giggled, walking up to her, and locking arms. 

“Ya got weed or anything?” You asked her, heading into the girls restroom.

She just grinned.

The restroom was cold, and smelt of bleach and sweaty socks. You knocked at the stalls, seeing if any staff member or anyone was there, before locking the main bathroom door. 

Illi didn’t waste a second before sliding onto the ground- against the wall. She immediately dug through each one of her uniform pockets, before finding the little altoids box. She pulled out one pre rolled joint, and a hot pink lighter. 

“I didn’t think people like you did stuff like this.” She muttered, moving her legs into the cross-cross position- lighting up the roll.

“I’m good at acting.” You replied, watching her from your position leaning against the wall.

You watched the way she lifted the joint to her lips, taking in a practiced amount of smoke. She then passed it to you, the joint in between her pointer and middle finger. You took it from her, taking a hit. The smoke that filled your lungs was thick and velvety, quickly melting your rigid shoulders. 

You both shared several passes, the heavy silence of the bathroom softened. The world slowed, and you felt extremely light. The edges of the day blurring at the edges.

You turned your head to Illi, her face clear from you removing her make up. Her eyes were glossy, and pink. All of her ‘not caring’ demeanor had vanished.

“You're staring.” She whispered, her voice smooth and soft, stripped of all the harshness that she had faced over the years. She was so much more than she pretended to be. Under all of her perversion, she was just a lost teenage girl.

“I’m allowed to stare.” You said back to her. Now on the floor next to her, getting closer for every passing second. When she finally noticed the distance between you, she choked on her breath, trying to swallow. 

“You really broke up with him? With Andrew?” She asked, flinching at her own question.

You rolled your eyes at the mention of him. 

“He’s an idiot.” You stated plainly, Eyes locking onto hers. “I’d rather be here. With you.”

That was the breaking point. The confession hit Illi like a punch in the jaw. An intense crimson flushed her cheeks, and she let out a soft, helpless whine, completely overwhelmed by how close you were. She looked so small, so entirely yours, just- waiting for you to make the move.

You didn't hesitate. You reached out, your fingers wrapping tightly around the dense fabric of her messy, wrinkled school tie, and yanked her forward.

Illi gasped as she was pulled off balance, her hands flying out to instinctively grip your waist to steady herself. Before she could utter another stuttered syllable, your lips slammed into hers, teeth clashing.

She was stilled, shock making her go rigid, the heat between you was too much to ignore. A breathless sound escaped her throat, and her grip on your waist tightened, her fingers digging into the fabric of your uniform skirt as she completely melted, letting you guide the kiss entirely. She tasted like sweet strawberry lip balm and smoke, her lips incredibly soft and pink- parting eagerly under yours.

When you finally pulled back just enough to breathe, Illi was completely dazed. Her eyes were beautifully dark and unfocused, her lips wet and slightly swollen as she stared at you like you had just rewritten her entire world.

The air between you was thick, charged with tension that felt like it was able to combust, made even heavier by the pungent scent of weed clinging to your clothes. 

Everything was slow. The world blurring into a gentle haze that felt more familiar than anything. It made the humid air of the restroom several times more intense than usual. 

Illi looked undone. Her chest heaving as she tried to take in the right amount of air. Her eyes were glossy and heavy lidded, she gazed up at you, a raw vulnerability that made you quiver. The sensation of your limbs floating made the heat blooming in your core intensify. 

You knew she was out of her depth. A girl who had spent her life watching on the sidelines, unaware of the electricity that she could send through you.

You didn’t spare any extra time- gripping her hand gently, and guiding it to the heh of your school skirt.

Illi let out a gasp, her eyes glued yours. The feeling of her fingers trembling against your palm. 

“I- I don’t know what to do- I-“ her voice shuddered. “I’ve never done this with someone else-“

“Have you done it with yourself?” You giggled, finally pushing her fingers under the spandex of the little lacy panties you were wearing. “You know how to make yourself feel good- right?” 

You had no idea you could make that sentence sound seductive- but you did.

Illi bit her lip, nodding bashfully- her fingers finally landing on your clit. You hissed at the light contact, wheezing slightly- every touch enhanced by fog from the weed. 

“C’mon Illi- it’s okay- I’ll show you.” You murmured, your voice low and seductive- bordering on a purr.

You could feel the vibrations of your vocal cords deep in your body, only adding to the wetness pooling down low. 

Her fingers twitched at the hum of your voice- forcing a sharp pleasured breath out of your lungs.

“Move-“ you finally whispered. 

She complied.

You arched your back, pressing yourself against her palm. “Just follow my lead…” you began to hump her hand, your hips rolling against the soft pads of her fingers. 

You gripped her wrist, moaning as you used her. Your fingers lay over hers, slowly pushing down on her middle finger. Her finger slid inside slowly, another low moan vibrating through your chest. 

Her eyes were glued on you, admiring the way your body reacted to her fingers. The pleasure you were receiving. Her pupils were only growing more dilated, the high making her own arousal enhanced.

“Is this- a- am I doing it right?” She asked, her voice breathless and broken. 

“God- fuck- yess,” you moaned I do her shoulder. She pressed her body against you- her fingers working you deeper and deeper. “C-curl your fingers-“ you moaned.

She did.

As you coached her, her rhythm became more confident, she needed to pleasure you. She watched your face intently, her shallow gasps syncing with your deep pants. She was driven by the sound of your moans and whimpers, floating in the warmth of you and her high. 

She curled her fingers deeper, unintentionally finding that sweet spot inside your heat. You let out a sharp, languid cry- her eyes lighting up with a mixture of pride and devotion.

“Y’like that” she whispered, leaving open mouthed kisses against the flesh of your neck.

“Mhm!” You hummed, biting your bottom lip. Your hand reached out to grip her other arm, nails digging into the fabric of her overcoat.

“Harder- fuck!” You shouted into her ear.

Her fingers stroked deeper, obscene wet slapping  sounds coming from her palm hitting your sensitive clit, and her fingers working the insides of you just right.

Her eyes squeezed shut as she focused on the way your walls fluttered around her, the friction of her fingers shooting in and out of you. 

Her other arm finally moved, slipping under your panties with the other- finding your clit, and rubbing it at an excruciating pace. “How about this?” 

“Oh- o- oh my god- FUCK-“ you screamed your eyes rolling back as tears began to stream down your face. “illi, don’t stop- -”

The sensation was becoming overwhelming, a tight coil winding tighter and tighter in your lower tummy. The entire sensation was amplified, your senses buzzing under the overall thrill of it. 

You could feel the heat radiating off of her, the need to please you. You could feel- the submission of her as you demanded her to keep on coaxing shrill moans out of your throat.

You arched your hips, driving yourself further into her hand, forcing her to feel every tremor of your anticipation.

She increased her pace, making faster, wet slapping sounds, and her fingers shooting back and forth over your sensitive bud. Every thrust was precise, every flick of her wrist hitting the exact spot you had taught her to find. You were hovering on the edge, your breath coming in short jagged gasps, your head tossing back as the world began to blur and drift away.

“Oh my god…” whimpered and going limp. 

“Right there- OHHH” your voice shot up three decibels. “FUCKKKKKK”

The climax hit you like a gunshot to the head. It cracked through you, making your ears ring and your vision go completely white. You let out several, strangled moans-  your body suddenly snapping tight as a series of violent, rhythmic contractions seized your muscles. 

You clamped down hard on her fingers, your whole body shaking with the force of the release. Illi let out a startled, soft whimper, her eyes wide and mesmerized as she felt you peak, her hand trembling as she continued to move her fingers, coaxing every last drop of pleasure out of you.

Her fingers continued to work at you clit, and push in and out of you, making you shake- overstimulation making you scream louder than before. 

As she slowed to a stop, the intense waves began to subside into shorter, slower, and more clipped ones. 

You slumped back against the wall, completely and physically spent. Your skin was still damp, and your heart was still hammering against your ribs. 

Illi didn't pull away immediately. She stayed there, her fingers still buried deep inside you, her forehead resting against yours.

"Did I... did I do alright?" she whispered, her voice small and hopeful, looking up at you through her lashes with a hunger that told you she was more than ready to do it all over again.

You hummed, pressing your lips against hers. She pushed her lips back into yours, gladly taking it as a ‘yes’. 

You let out a soft breathy giggle against her lips, cupping the back of her neck, and tugging lightly at the delicate black hairs. “You did perfectly.” You whispered, your breath mingling with hers.

The compliment seemed to hit her like a wave.

She looked like she was about to faint right there, her chest heaving as she let out a shaky, desperate breath. She leaned heavily into your palm, her shoulders slumping as if all the bones in her body had suddenly turned to jelly.

Slowly, you reached down, fingers wrapping around her wrist- and tugging her remaining hand out from your panties. Her fingers were still slick with your arousal. 

Illi didn’t pull away, she actually leaned back into you, staring at the hand that had caused you so much pleasure. Her cheeks become a bright crimson, and she smiles- giggling about something to herself. 

You stand, having to find your balance for a second- and leaving her at the wall. You grab a paper towel, wetting it- then sitting back next to her.

“Here.” You take her slick hand, and begin to wipe her fingers clean. 

She watches you as you take care of her, completely compliant- and letting you handle her like she’s some incapable puppy.

“There…” you let go of her hand, easily tossing the damp paper towel into the trashcan. 

Your gaze lands back onto her face, the initial buzz from the weed dying down into a soft hum. She was staring at your lips, stuck in some sort of a trance. 

You smile at her once again, tugging her tie until her lips pressed against yours once again. This time it was just a delicate kiss, being more sweet and drawn out. 

After a minute or two, you break the kiss. Standing and dusting off your clothes. 

“C’mon- they are going to be suspicious. Fix your clothes- let’s get outta here.”

She quickly nods, hopping up and fixing her clothes and hair in the mirror. She smiled when she saw a little dark mark on her neck, letting her finger trail over it with a sigh. 

 “C’mon illi!” You shout, making your way around the corner, and out of the restroom.

“Wait for me!” She smiled, shouting after you. Looking at herself in the mirror one more time- before flipping up her collar, and chasing after you.

RAAAHHHHHHH (I was listening to LUSH-(Dean blunt) while writing the smut, and the after care- I 100% RECOMMEND IT FIT SOO WELL!! anyways- ily!!

The late afternoon sun bled beautiful hues of golden yellow and orange across the sky.

You hammered the final stake into the dirt, the tent now being safe from blowing away. The air was crisp, sharp even- it smelt of heavy pine needles, dirt, and little wood chips across the campsite.

Mikey was stuck at home, he was working on his finals, leaving you and Gerard. You were both around halfway through gap year- leaving you and him free for anything. This left you guys at the mercy of your mothers fantastic reunion.

You and Gerard were once inseparable, but the years pulled you both into separate orbits, separate friends, different places, and a strained relationship.

Although your relationship had changed, the distance felt fragile. You were both there like old times, being brought back together- and forced to be together.

Because Mikey wasn’t there, you and Gerard had to share a tent.

 Normally there would be three separate tents.

One for the moms,

One for you,

And one for Gerard and Mikey.

But of course your mom decided that you ‘don't deserve privacy.

The first thing you did when the tent was finished being set up, you shot in there- claiming your side of the tent. Then you basically ripped off your roadtrip clothes- slipping into your one piece swimsuit you still had from sophomore year.

It was tighter now, hugging the curves that weren’t there when you were in highschool. 

You stepped out into the melting daylight, your towel slung over your shoulder. Gerard’s looked up at you from the stump he was hunched on. He was frozen, his eyes swept over your figure, then rapidly back up to your face. A fierce crimson coated his neck and lower cheeks, as his Adam’s apple bobbed uncomfortably.

“C-can I come?” He asked, his voice cracking unnoticeably. 

“Obviously dork.” You replied, a teasing undertone.

The trek down to the water was quiet. The path  barely being illuminated by the now orangish red sky. You paused when the lake was in view. The scene was cinematic- the sky glinted and glittered against the murky water. The color looked less olive in the dusk. 

Jesus Christ you could have stood there for hours, counting each individual color that the water glimmered at you.

That’s when Gerard looked at you with a devilish grin, you immediately knew what he was thinking. 

In a split second, you and Gerard were rocketing down the trail, your bare feet sticking to the wood chips. When you both made it to the dock, you continued- quickly interlocking your arms and pulling your knees to chest. You both launched off the end of the dock in cannon balls. A giant wave splashing the end of the dock.

When you both came up for air, you continued to choke on your own laughter. 

…

An hour later, you were shivering and laughing over the crackling campfire. Your hair had dried- now all crispy- your towel was hanging loosely off your shoulders. 

You silently excused yourself to change into your dry clothes. Your mom was pretty tipsy, in deep gossip with Gerard’s mom. They paid no attention to you when you slipped into the dark tent. 

Your damp swimsuit was stubborn- clinging onto your skin. You had just managed to peel it off of your body, and slip clumsily into a clean pair of panties- when you heard the tent zipper rip open at a violent speed.

“I’m changing!” You shouted, your voice echoing in the confined space.

It was too late.

Gerard’s head poked through the flap.

The color drained from his face, before rushing back in a violent shade of purple. His eyes didn’t just land on you, they locked. Tracking every bare expanse of your skin. His eyes traced the curve of your hip, and the absolute lack of coverage. 

For a fraction of a second, he didn’t move. Then, all at once it did. He ripped his gaze from you, his jaw dropping as he fell back onto the grass outside the tent. The soft sound of punk rock flooding from his dropped headphones.

“Oh my god- I- I’m so soo sorry!-!” His voice was strained.

Furious, and embarrassed, you threw on your hoodie, and a soft pair of sweatpants and a rapid speed. You unzipped the flap once again, and stood over him, arms crossed.

“Did you seriously not hear me yell that I was changing?” You yelled, your eyes trained on his flustered face.

Gerard was flat on his back, his knees bent, and hands splayed on either of his sides. His eyes were wide and terrified(?). 

“I-I didn’t hear you, I swear- m- my volume was up!” His hand reached toward his headphones. “ I’m sorry- I - I swear it was n'accident!” His hands reached up, palms facing you in surrender.

…

The warmth of the campfire couldn't thaw the freezing awkwardness that settled over the rest of the evening. 

You moved your camp chair to the absolute opposite side of the pit, creating a deliberate barrier of smoke and snapping embers between yourself and Gerard. 

You refused to look at him directly, keeping your focus on the glowing coals, only tracking him through the very edge of your peripheral vision.

He wasn't handling it any better. 

Every time you accidentally shifted your gaze too far to the left, his eyes would instantly dart away. His face would flush a bright, unmistakable pink, and his right boot would start tapping a frantic rhythm against the dirt.

The shift in energy was loud enough to wake the dead. 

Your mom paused mid-sentence, looking between the two of you with a raised eyebrow, while Gerard's mom set her beer down.

"What are you two dorks worked up about?" she asked, inspecting Gerard's burning ears. 

"Did you guys seriously get into a fight already?"

“I’m jus’ tired…” you stated simply, now standing. leaning down, you gave both the moms a quick hug and a peck on the cheek as a goodnight.

 You didn't look at Gerard as you walked past him, heading straight for the shared tent to escape from drowning in the tension.

Sleep hit you like a brick. Bundled tightly inside your sleeping bag, curled on your side, as the exhaustion of the day took over. The tent was silent except for the rhythmic, faint whistle of your nose as you drifted into a deep slumber.

-

It was hours later when the zipper moved.

Gerard entered with agonizing slowness, trying to be a ghost, but the shifting of the tent floor woke you instantly.

The fire outside had died down into gray ash. And the only light source was the faint, pulsating neon green of fireflies blinking right outside the thin nylon mesh, casting rapid shadows across the small space.

Your eyes peeled open, heavy with sleep. You didn't move a muscle, watching through the gloom as Gerard sat on his sleeping bag and began untying his heavy leather boots. 

He dropped them with a soft thud. 

Then, his hands went to his waist.

 He unbuckled his jeans, the metallic clink sounding like a gunshot in the quiet night, and pushed them down around his ankles.

Your breath hitched. Your chest locked up, your breathing turning high-pitched and shallow as your eyes involuntarily dropped lower. 

Against the faint exterior light, the distinct, prominent silhouette of his cock was visible through his boxers.

Before you could look away, Gerard froze, and he turned his head.

In the dark, he couldn't see your face, but he could see the unmistakable, glossy glimmer of your wide-open eyes staring directly at his lap.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

Gerard stood entirely still for three agonizing seconds, the outline of his arousal plain as day between you. 

Suddenly, he snapped out of it. He spun around, his back to you, and frantically snatched up his pajama pants, shoving his legs through them with clumsy haste.

He scrambled into his sleeping bag, pulling the zipper all the way up to his chin in one ragged motion.

"Goodnight," he whispered. 

His voice wasn't the stuttering pitch from earlier; it was a quiet, low, gravelly grumble that vibrated in the small tent.

You didn't answer. 

You couldn't.

 You lay perfectly still in the dark, your heart hammering against your ribs, entirely consumed by the terrifying, dizzying realization of just how turned on you were by the boy who was supposed to be your brother.

Fuck.

…

The next morning was bright and clear. The morning dew glittering off of the blades of grass.

By ten o'clock, you were sitting with the moms, drinking coffee by the crackling remains of the morning fire, feeling surprisingly chipper. 

The heavy, localized storm of tension from the night before seemed to have evaporated into the fresh spring air, leaving you talkative as you animatedly recounted a bizarre, vivid dream you'd had to an amused audience.

Gerard, true to form, didn't make an appearance until closer to lunchtime. He was a creature of the dark, always sleeping in late enough to miss the early morning chill. 

When the tent flap finally rustled, he essentially crawled out into the bright daylight, blinking like a dazed nocturnal animal as he made his way toward the main camp area.

Stopping a few feet away, he rubbed the heavy sleep from his eyes, his gaze locking instantly onto yours. 

His dark hair was a completely disheveled, chaotic bird's nest. He hadn't bothered to change; his soft flannel pajama pants hung low and loose on his hips, exposing the pale skin of his waist. A brief, charged look passed between you- a silent acknowledgment of the dark shadows from the night before-before he pulled his eyes away.

After that, the day blurred into a fast, uneven rhythm. 

You spent most of your time helping the adults with camp chores and firewood collection, while Gerard vanished entirely. 

The moms figured they had sent him out deep into the brush to find solid, thick fire starters, but as the hours ticked by without a sign of him, no one thought much of it. 

He was a wanderer.

 You had a nagging, unprompted feeling that he might have even been sneaking back into the shared tent, quietly digging through your things while the camp was empty, but you couldn't prove it.

By late afternoon, the moms dropped a bombshell. They decided the lakeside spot was too much trouble to maintain and declared that everyone would be packing up and relocating further inland by dawn tomorrow.

You were crushed. You loved being set up directly next to the water and immediately protested, trying to argue for the peace of the lake. But it was a losing battle against the real adults.

 Defeated, you decided you weren't going to let your remaining time go to waste. If tomorrow was your last day by the water, you were going to make the most of tonight.

At 10:00 PM, the camp was dead silent. Knowing your mom would absolutely forbid swimming alone in the pitch black, you waited until her steady, deep breathing signaled she was fast asleep before slipping out of the tent in your swimsuit.

The lake was an inkwell, cold and completely still. You swam out for quite a while, the chill of the water shocking your skin until your body went comfortably numb.

 Eventually, you stopped paddling, letting yourself simply float on the upper layer of the water, staring up at the blanket of stars.

The absolute silence broke when a tiny, fiery orange ember caught your eye. It was floating in the dark, hovering right above the end of the wooden dock.

You blinked the water from your eyes, treading softly. Gerard was standing at the edge of the platform, looking straight down at you through the gloom. A rolled joint was clamped between his fingers, the tip glowing angrily in the dark as he took a slow drag and blew out lazy, swirling halos of sweet smoke.

“Hey—where have you been all day?” you asked, your voice cutting lightheartedly through the quiet night air.

“Nowhere,” he said simply. His voice was casual, but there was a distinct, low drag to it.

It was completely dark out now. Without the fire, you could only see the sharp, faint outline of his frame standing tall above you against the night sky. You didn't even realize how hard your neck was craned backward until he spoke again, his eyes tracking your movements as you drifted closer to the edge of the dock, just staring up at him.

“How long have you been out here?” he asked softly.

He exhaled another thick cloud of smoke through his nostrils. The fragrance drifted downward, blending into the damp night air. Inhaling the faint, earthy scent made you feel a wave of overlaying euphoria, your head spinning just a little.

Underneath the water, your body felt electric. You were intensely glad that this trip hadn't landed on your period, but the alternative was proving to be a dangerous game: you were stuck here ovulating. And god, with the way the cool water swept over your bare skin, the primal, aching awareness of it was only becoming more and more noticeable.

Gerard lazily moved to the edge of the platform and sat down. He unlaced his heavy boots, pulling them off before dangling his bare feet over the side, letting them plunge into the water right near your shoulders.

“Did you watch me change last night?”

The question sliced through the quiet air like a razor blade.

“Wha—No!” you shouted, your voice jumping an octave, betraying your panic. You splashed slightly to keep yourself upright, your face burning despite the cold water. “I should be asking you! What exactly did you see when I was changing yesterday?” you added, throwing the defensive shield back up.

The silence stretched out, thick and heavy, as the two of you just gazed at each other. He was clearly high, his dark eyes half-lidded and distant, his posture slumped into a lazy, unbothered curve. The anger of your question seemed to wash right over him.

“You are seriously gorgeous, Y/N,” he whispered. His voice sounded soft, almost bubbly with a private, hazy adoration.

You froze, the water lapping against your chin as you just kept staring at him.

He was so fucking hot.

The sharp, perfect slope of his nose caught the amber light of the joint every time he took a breath. His eyelashes were long, dark, and wispy, casting heavy curtains over his beautiful eyes. And his lips—his soft lips were the perfect, bruised shade of pink in the dark, parting slightly to reveal the little snaggle teeth that poked through as he offered a slow, wicked smile. God, fuck.

“What?” he grinned, tilting his head. A few strands of disheveled dark hair fell into his face, an effortlessly flirtatious gesture that made your chest tighten.

“Nothing,” you bit your lower lip, dipping slightly lower into the safety of the water.

His pupils were blown completely wide, swallowing the irises whole as he stared down at you. Another long, torturous pause hung over the lake.

“Does—does this—” Gerard paused, lifting a hand to point his index finger back and forth in a small circle between the two of you. “Does this… us… feel different to you?” he softly questioned, the haze dropping for a fraction of a second to reveal a raw, vulnerable curiosity.

“Yes,” you admitted halfheartedly, the truth slipping out before you could stop it. You swam an inch closer, resting your forearms against the wet, splintered wood of the dock near his ankles. “What happens? What will we do?” you asked helplessly, looking up into his face.

“I don’t know,” he replied, his voice dropping to a low, quiet murmur. He ripped his eyes away from yours, looking down at the dark ripples where the lake surrounded his ankles. “We really shouldn’t act on it…”

The night went entirely quiet after that, the finality of his words sinking into the dark water around you.

The next morning was a blur of aggressive packing. The moms were in high gear, barking orders about bungee cords and heavy coolers.

You kept your head down, methodically folding blankets inside the tent while Gerard pulled the metal stakes from the dirt outside.

That was when you noticed it.

Your duffel bag, which you had distinctly remembered zipping completely shut before heading to the lake last night, was sitting open. 

The fabric was pulled back, and right on top- resting against your sweaters was a pair of your lace underwear. It had been buried at the very bottom of the bag. 

Your breath caught in your throat. You didn’t need to guess who did it. A cold wave of shock washed over you, followed immediately by a heavy, confusing heat that pooled low in your stomach. 

Instead of running out of the tent and screaming, a strange, suffocating silence took over. You slowly zipped the bag shut, your heart pumping thick against your ribs. 

You chose to stay quiet. 

You didn’t say a word as you carried the bag outside, but the secret burned a hole in your chest.

The breaking point arrived an hour later.

To speed up the relocation, the moms sent the two of you ahead in Gerard’s beat-up truck to haul the first massive load of gear to the new inland campsite.

 The cab of the truck was a claustrophobic cage. The air was thick with the scent of old pine tree air fresheners, damp earth, and an unbearable, unsaid tension.

Gerard drove with both hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the winding, deserted dirt road. But he wasn't looking at the road. Every couple of seconds, his gaze would drop, helplessly tracking the bare skin of your legs where your shorts rode up your thighs.

He wasn't even trying to hide it anymore. His breathing was shallow, his jaw clenched so tight the muscle began to spasm in his cheek.

It was exhausting. The blushing, the god- awful stuttering, the invasion of your privacy, and now? this pathetic, lingering staring. 

You snapped.

You reached out, violently slamming your hand against the radio dial, cutting off the rigid punk rock music into dead silence.

"Pull over," you demanded. Your voice wasn't loud, but it was sharp enough to slice through the air.

Gerard flinched, his eyes darting to yours in pure panic. "W-what? We're supposed to get to the—"

"Pull the truck over, Gerard. Right now."

Scared by the venom in your tone, he yanked the wheel to the right. The truck kicked up dusty gravel as it skidded to a halt on the side of the deserted, heavily wooded road. The engine idled with a low, rumbling vibration.

"What's wrong? Are you- "

"Are you seriously going to keep pretending?" you interrupted, turning fully in your seat to face him. Your hands gripped the edge of the center console. 

"You've been acting like a complete freak since yesterday. You look at me like you're starving, you panic every time I look back, and you stand on the dock telling me we 'shouldn't act on it' like you're making some big, noble sacrifice."

Gerard's face instantly went from pale to a dark, suffocating crimson. He swallowed hard, staring at the steering wheel. "I- jus’- please, just let it go-"

"I found my bag, Gerard," you dropped the hammer, your voice lowering into a dangerous register. 

"I know you went through my stuff while I was out of the tent yesterday. You moved my underwear."

The silence that followed was absolute. 

Gerard had froze up completely, his entire body locking up as if he had just been struck by lightning. The color drained from his face entirely, leaving him looking sickly and undone.

"I-I didn't, I swear i-" he stammered, his voice cracking violently. 

He couldn't even form a coherent sentence. He looked so incredibly small in the driver's seat, his hands trembling against the steering wheel.

Instead of the normal triumph and pity, a hot wave of frustration and anger washed over you. Your chest tightened and your eyes blurred with burning tears. There was a tang of embarrassment from him digging in your personal items, but there was also a pull that you were feeling from it. You both were magnets. 

“Stop lying,” You started- trying to push the emotion down.

“Do you seriously think your the only one losing your mind over this? You drive me insane, Gerard. The way you look at me- I can’t- we aren’t supposed to feel this way, We are basically family!” Your voice was loud, and high pitched.

Gerard turned his head toward you. His dark eyes glossed over, and pupils blown. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. 

He opened his mouth to say something different, but before any noise came out, your lips slammed into his. Your eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks as you began to move your mouth against his. He let out a choked whimper at the sudden contact.

His hands found your shoulders, and gently pushed you back into your seat. You stared at his eyes, then the way his hair was shoveled to the side, and stuck to his forehead from the heat.

His eyes stayed on your lips, plump and wet from the feverish kiss.

Slowly, you unbuckled your seatbelt- and you slid over the center console, straddling Gerard’s thick thighs. 

Gerard lightly gasped, his eyes tracking the way your pelvis ground into his. His hands flew up, pausing before he let them sit carelessly on your sides. 

“A- all I wa- wanted was- i-“ Gerard stuttered.

You cut him off. “All you wanted was what?” Your voice was condescending. 

“Show me…” your voice changed dramatically, becoming more velvety and sultry. You pushed your hips down against his again, another whimper escaping his lips. Your head moved closer to his again, your lips grazing the shell of his ear, while your hands trailed up his body, landing in his hair.

You tugged at the soft strands: “show me, Gerard.”

With that, his hips bucked up into yours- his hands sliding down to your hips to put more pressure on his groin. He grunted uselessly, his eyes screwing shut as he began to use you. 

Your fingers were still tangling in his hair, and your lips found his neck, nipping at his pulse point- and leaving dark purple circles all over.

He continued to grind into your clothed core- little grunts and whimpers kept leaving his mouth.

The grinding slowed, your hips rolling against his with deliberate pressure, drawing it out until Gerard's hands clawed at your hips, trying to push you faster, harder.

"Nuh-uh," you murmured against his throat, your teeth grazing his pulse point. "I said show me, baby."

A frustrated sound caught in his chest. His eyes were screwed shut, his jaw tight, his cock straining against his jeans so hard it had to be painful. He thrust up again, desperate, but you lifted your hips just enough to deny him the friction he was chasing.

His head fell back against the headrest with a thud. "Please," he breathed, the word broken. 

"Please, y/n." He said your name with devastation.

"Show me how much you want it."

His hands shook as they fumbled with his belt. The metal clinked and clattered, his movements frantic and clumsy, and you had to bite back a smile as you watched. He got his jeans undone, shoving them down his thighs along with his boxers, his cock springing free, hard and slick at the tip- hitting his abdomen with an obscene slap.

You didn't move to touch him. You just sat there, watching, your hips hovering just above his.

"Fuck," he rasped, his hand wrapping around himself, pumping once, twice. "Fuck, look at you."

Your tank top was still on, your jeans still buttoned, and the sight of you fully clothed and perched on top of him like he was your throne had him leaking against his own fingers.

You reached down, your fingers circling his wrist, stopping him. "Not yet, Gerard."

You pulled your tank top over your head, unhooked your bra, and let it fall. His breath caught in his throat, his eyes fixed on your tits, his mouth falling open. You took his hand and guided it to your chest, letting him feel the weight of you in his palm.

"Feel me, Gerard."

He didn't need to be told twice. His hands were on you, calloused and rough, his thumbs brushing over your nipples until they peaked, until you were arching into his touch. His hips bucked up again, his cock sliding against the soaked seam of your jeans, and you let him- let him rut against you like a desperate school boy.

"Take these off," he begged, tugging at your waistband. "Please, baby. Please."

You held his gaze as you unbuttoned your jeans, as you lifted your hips and shimmied them down your thighs. Your panties followed, dark and soaked, and when you settled back on top of him, skin to skin, his cock pressed hot and urgent against your bare stomach.

He squirmed.

You reached between your bodies, your fingers wrapping around his length, guiding the head to your entrance. You dragged it through your slick folds, teasing both of you, watching his face twist with pleasure and desperation.

"Eyes up here," you demanded softly.

His eyes rolled up to yours. He was looking up at you, his face tilted down slightly so he was looking at you through his eyelashes.

You sank down.

The sound he made- a strangled, broken moan that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his chest.

It was worth everything.

His hands flew back down to your hips, his grip bruising as you took him inch by inch, your walls stretching around him, your breath hitching at the fullness.

When you were seated completely, you paused, feeling each and every inch of his length.

"Fuck," he breathed out, his head lolling back. 

"Fuck, no- no i- I can’t y/n"

"Shh." You leaned forward, your lips brushing his. 

"I know, baby. I know, I've got you."

You started to move.

Slow at first, a heavy roll of your hips that had his nails digging into your skin, and his mouth falling open in a silent cry. You set the pace, rising and falling, taking him deep and pulling back until just the tip remained, then sinking down again.

The car windows fogged. His hands roamed your body- your tits, your waist, your ass- he was gripping and releasing like he couldn't decide where to settle.

"H-harder," he gasped. "Plea- please go harder-"

You planted your hands on his chest, your nails raking down his skin as you rode him, fast and deep, the wet sounds of your bodies meeting filling the enclosed space. His hips bucked up to meet yours, meeting you thrust for thrust, his control completely shattered.

"Yes," you sighed, feeling him twitch inside you. "That's it."

His hand found your clit, his thumb pressing tight speedy circles, as you cried out, your rhythm faltering as the pleasure coiled tight and hot in your tummy.

"Come on," he urged, his voice rough, wrecked. "Cum for me, sweetheart. I'm right there- I feel you,"

Your orgasm hit you, wave after wave pulling you under. Your walls squeezed around him, pulsing, and Gerard followed with a broken cry, his release flooding you, his body shuddering beneath yours as he buried himself as deep as he could go.

You collapsed against his chest, your forehead resting in the crook of his neck, both of you breathing hard. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, his lips pressing soft, lazy kisses to your hair.

Neither of you spoke. The only sounds were your mingled breaths and the faint hum of the forest surrounding the both of you.

…

When the truck finally pulled into the clearing of the campsite, you were surprised to see that most of the work was already done. The fire pit was prepped, and the two tents were already pitched beneath the pine trees.

Your mothers were sitting on a fallen log near the edge of the site, sharing a thermos and looking relaxed.

"There you are!" your mom called out, shielding her eyes from the setting sun. 

"We thought maybe the old truck had finally given up the ghost on those mountain passes."

"It... it had a bit of trouble," Gerard stammered, climbing out of the cab, and heading to the back to unload the remaining crates. 

"We had to pull over for a while."

Gerard’s mom exchanged a look with your mother, a look that was a little too knowing, a little too satisfied.

"Well, it’s a good thing we got a head start on the camp, then," she said, her tone light and airy. 

"Since it took so much longer than expected, we decided to simplify things. We’re heading into the village to grab some real food for dinner. We'll be back late."

A strange feeling prickled at the back of your neck. You watched them walk toward the other car, waving over their shoulders. 

As soon as their taillights disappeared down the dirt road, you turned toward the main tent to drop off your duffel bag.

Stepping inside, you realized why they had been so eager to "simplify?"

The tent was much smaller than the one you’d used previously. Inside, the two individual sleeping bags hadn't just been laid out- they had been zipped together into one large, shared bed. Resting on the center of the pillows was a small envelope.

Gerard stepped in behind you, pausing as he saw the layout. "Wait, did they...?" He said, trailing off..

You opened the envelope. Inside was a note in familiar, loopy handwriting.

———

The forest is much quieter at night than the lake. We figured you two might appreciate a little extra warmth. See you in the morning. P.S. We left some 'supplies' in the side pocket.

——— You looked at Gerard, and then at the side pocket of the tent, which held a travel-sized bottle of massage oil and a small box of chocolates.

"I think," you whispered, a laugh finally bubbling up in your chest, "that our moms have been planning this camping trip for a very different reason than hiking."

Gerard looked at the note, then at the shared bed, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face. The embarrassment faded, replaced by relief that the ‘secret’ was out.

"Well…" he said, stepping closer and taking your hand. 

"It seems like they finally got tired of waiting for us to figure it out ourselves."

𖦹 The morning after the kitchen floor, franks demeanor shifted entirely. He sat on the counter, only in his boxers smoking something. He watched you carefully when you finally padded into the kitchen, you were still wearing his flannel, but it was hanging on you more loosely- covering your panties. He slides you a mug of fresh coffee, his fingers lingering on the cup. When you finally took a sip, it was really sweet. Of course he’s a sweet tooth.

𖦹 He started to think about things more. Like how much time you spent in the guest room doing whatever. On a Sunday, he decided to move all the heavy amplifiers and speakers stating that the room was “already too crowded,” . He left some of the bright colored guitars on the wall, even welcoming you to “try them out”.

𖦹 one evening while you were watching one of your favorite movies (he let you pick), he silently pulled you over, in between his thick thighs, gently combing his fingers through your hair. His fingers tugged through the tangles, his warm girthy chest pressed flush against your back.

𖦹 When you finally made it to one of his gigs, he made absolutely sure that you were separated from the rowdy crowd. He put you in the left side wing, hooking his finger in the beltloop of your jeans, pulling you to the place he wanted you. He barked at the security guard, “don’t let anyone get close to the kid- got it?” It was embarrassing.

𖦹 Before his band practices, he liked to give you little bites, and marks all over your throat, knowing that he will find it later- under the loose clothes you like to wear. He smirks against your skin after you let out a pained hiss, “don’t forget who you belong to, baby.”

𖦹 One of his lowest points was when he began to dig through your laundry, taking more intimate items. You would find that one of your sports bras were missing, or one of your comfiest pair of panties. You only realized he kept it in his touring duffel bags, he loved the way you smelled compared to the grimy tour bus.

𖦹 Leathermouth sets were always so violent, and the adrenaline often ruined his self control, (not that he had much in the first place) the second he stepped off the stage, dripping sweat, with his vocal cords completely stripped. He dragged you into the disgusting venue's men's bathroom. Once he clicked the stall shut, his mouth found yours, pinning your hands on the wall. He kissed you feverishly, his teeth biting at your lip, making it bleed a little. He was completely flush against you with his hand tugging at the roots of your hair.

𖦹 He finds your quiet demeanor more endearing, compared to his loud angsty one. One night, while adjusting his gear, he got an idea. He unhooked the heavy leather strap of his guitar, and walks to your bedroom. When he entered, you were shocked, seeing him grin mischievously at you. He looped it securely around your wrists, and puts your arms behind your back. He tugged you into his lap, just to whisper dirty things into the shell of your ear. Touching you and listening to the sound of moans ripping out of you.

𖦹 Comfort became a secondary thought. After the kitchen, the cold linoleum, and the rough floor boards of the hallway become regular spots. He likes holding you against the cold hard floor- growling things into your ear.

𖦹 Every once in a while, you like to walk around the house with nothing on other than his largest flannel. You do it to tease him, but you are asking for it too. He normally doesn’t waste any time pulling the fabric over your head, he just rips it off- buttons flying. He took you right there on the kitchen counter, gripping your thighs so hard that there are little crescents left from his nails.

𖦹 He is verbally sharp. It bleeds into your dynamic- If you gasp too loudly, try to pull away, or hide your face in the pillows because you're overwhelmed, he'll rough handle you until you look him dead in the eye, dropping his voice into a gravelly purr: "Good honey. Do exactly what I tell you.”

𖦹 Frank is a softie. He likes to play rough, and act tough- but when it comes to it, he’s just a teddy bear. He loves when he gets to be close to you. Whenever you sleep in his bedroom (normally after cracking), he would pull you into a tight spoon, his chin above your head. He likes to trace little shapes on your bare hip, and talk about basically anything, like your day, his day… anything.

𖦹 (extra) after the kitchen, he got up and left without saying anything. You were overwhelmed with sadness until he came back with a folded shirt. He had a look on his face… “Here- uh, this was your old man’s shirt- he left it a couple uh- it’s not important. Here.” His voice was small. He held out his hand towards you, his hands trembling slightly. You took it from him, looking at him teary eyed. He sat back down on the floor next to you. “C’mon baby- don’t cry-“ he wiped a tear rolling down your cheek before pulling you into his chest, combing his hands through your hair as you began to break down in his arms. “Shhh”

Hey guys!! I hope you enjoyed!! This is my first time ever using the real tumblr app. (I don’t like it so far. It’s confusing asf…) I’ll get the hang of it soon. Also- sorry that none of this has a real storyline- I just put random shit I thought of onto a doc then copied and pasted it so- yah. Anyways ily!! 🫶

You stepped through the threshold to your new home. It smelt of weed, cigarettes, and a grody undertone that you couldn’t put your finger on.

The door slammed against the drywall behind you, making an uncomfortable clack sound on the wall.

Frank had several movie posters hung on the wall, it made the place warmer, but not warm enough.

Everything was still cold. 

“Home sweet home.” Frank grumbled quietly.

You just stood there, your fingers tightly wrapped around the strap of your duffel bag.

Frank walked forward into the open kitchen, still grumbling about something under his breath. He stopped in the middle of the kitchen, then turned around, glaring at you. His eyes were dim, and unreadable. 

He had been your fathers best friend. You had known him ever since you were just a little girl. 

He was always grumpy, and demanding.

“Are you just gonna stand there- or,”

You stepped forward, gently sinking into his large couch. “Uh, where would you like me to sleep?” 

You asked him quietly, completely prepared for him to tell you that you were going to sleep on the couch.

He sighed. “I have a guest room, if you follow me.”

You stood, looking at him kind of eagerly. You just wanted to be alone.

You followed him, keeping a steady distance between you and him.

“Hurry up!” He waved at you, his voice strained and tired. “Jesus Christ-“ he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

You scampered forward, standing in the doorway of the guest room. It must have been his old band practice room. The room was filled with amplifiers, speakers, and several bright colored guitars.

“Was this your-“ 

“Yes.” He cut you off.

“Sorry.” You whispered weekly.

He just continued to glare at you. “Don’t start that shit.” He stated, his voice diminishing.

“Please don’t apologize- that shit- it’s annoying.”

He snapped. Stepping out of the room. He dug into his deep pockets, and ripped out a crushed pack of cigarettes. Lighting one of the rolls between his lips, blowing out sacred swirls of smoke.

Then he pointed at you, the cigarette resting tightly between his two large fingers. “Let’s get a couple things straight.” He continued. “I didn’t ask for any of this. Your dad just messed up, and you were just dropped on my porch without a second thought, and now I have to keep you from starving. That’s the full extent of my contract here- got it kid?” 

You nodded quickly, the mention of your parent sent a quiet burn in your heart, but you didn’t say anything- you couldn’t bear telling him what happened. You couldn’t tell anyone.

Franks eyes narrowed on you, as he took another drag of his cigarette. If he had noticed the way your shoulders slumped at the mention of your dad, he would have softened, but you only stayed silent.

If anything, the silence only made him more prickly. 

“You got a tongue, don’t you?” His tone was biting.

“Yes,” you whispered.

“Great- use it.” He said, retreating back to the living room, his shoulder hitting yours slightly. He stopped halfway through the hallway. “Oh, and don’t touch my guitars. Don't mess with the stereo. And if you're gonna cry, do it quietly. I have practice soon.”

He then turned to leave again. “And unpack your bag- you're gonna be here a’while.” He stated plainly over his shoulder.

… 

The next day, the silence struck. You spent the entire morning and afternoon in the tight guest room. The mattress smelled like mildew, and old denim. You didn’t dare to explore.  Every 

Time you moved, the floorboards gave you an excruciating squeak. It felt like a crime to move.

You kept your hands in the pockets of your large hoodie, Fingers tangled in a loose thread.

By around 3pm, the hunger was sharp enough to pull you from the room. You crept through the narrow hallway, trying your hardest to avoid the creaky floorboards.  

The kitchen was a mess. The countertops were sticky, and the sink was overflowing with coffee mugs. You stood in the center, your feet planted firmly on the cool linoleum.

You felt like you were trespassing.

You heard a door close and you froze.

When he came towards the kitchen, you jumped lightly, your ass hitting the back of the countertop. He looked completely wiped, his hair was completely mopped and disheveled, while his eyes had dark purple circles under them. He carried a bulky guitar case in one hand, then set it down with a sharp thud.

His jaw was set tight when he saw you.

He muttered something under his breath before his fingers balled into tight fists at his sides, chipped nail polish on his nails. 

“Jesus, why are you always lurkin’ in corners? Scared the shit outta me.” He murmured.

“What’re you doing out here anyways?”

“I was just” you cleared your throat with a tight ahem. “Lookin’ for some water…” your eyes were glued to your socks, not looking at him once.

He let out a frustrated sigh, marching forward and snapping open a cabinet. You took note of where he got the glass, staring at the whole exchange. The then wiped the rim of the cup with his shirt before putting it under the stream of water.

“There. Your water.” He slammed it lightly on the counter, nodding towards the glass. 

He shifted around? Leaning against the countertop, his arms crossed tightly over his broad chest.

His t-shirt was ripped a little at the neck, exposing his dirty neck and collarbones. 

His eyes burned into yours, the stern look not fading for even a second.

“Ya eat anything t’day?” He questioned, his voice less threatening than before.

“No-” you whispered, flinching before he even responded.

“Well, why the hell not?” His voice rose, his hands coming down from his chest, and clutching the edge of the counter. “There’s food in the fridge, cereal on top of the fridge, and bread in the cabinet. What were you waiting for? A silver platter?”

“I didn’t want to touch your stuff- I” you whispered, cutting yourself off before saying any more.

The reminder of why you were here hung heavy in the air. You couldn't go home. Your dad's house was locked up, the legal papers were a mess, and your mother was just a quiet, painful blank space you refused to think about. 

You had nowhere else to go, and Frank knew it.

His eyes flashed with something dark- frustration, maybe a split second of guilt before his expression hardened into a scowl again. 

He hated when you got quiet like this. It made him look like the bad guy. Frank didn't mind being the bad guy, but only on his own terms. not because he was basically bullying a kid.

Your chest only tightened with his look, and so did the tension, it was becoming strained. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, your eyes became dry, then burning with tears at the corners.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He said softly this time, his voice still dangerous. “You gotta grow thicker skin if you wanna make it outta here alive.”

He reached out, his hand moving fast. You blinked, expecting a blow, but his fingers just gripped the top of your hoodie's hood, pulling it roughly off your head to expose your face.

"Stop hiding behind your this stupid shirt," Frank muttered, his eyes raking over your face, noting the dark circles under your eyes. 

He let go of the fabric, his hand dropping back to his side.

 "Eat something. I'm going to sleep. Don’t wake me up."

He turned on his heel and walked down the hall, slamming his bedroom door shut so hard the glass in the kitchen cabinets rattled.

You stood alone in the kitchen, your heart hammering against your ribs. Staring at the filled cup on the counter.

…

The uneasy peace didn’t last long. Three days later, 

The quiet of the apartment was entirely obliterated. 

Leathermouth was having an impromptu practice, and the small space upstairs became a revolving door of sweaty kids, bandmates, and randoms from previous local venues. 

The air grew thick, choking with the smell of cheap beer, stale weed, and the muffled, aggressive thudding of a bass guitar vibrating straight through the floorboards from the basement.

You tried your best to stay locked away in your room, curling into yourself on the mildew-scented mattress. But eventually, the sheer volume of liquid you'd consumed to keep from going into the kitchen caught up to you. 

You had to use the bathroom.

Slipping out the door, you kept your head low, shoulders hunched as you tried to blend into the shadows of the narrow hallway.

"Well, look what we have here."

A guy you didn't know, smelling heavily of whiskey, and wearing a torn denim vest over a stained band shirt stepped right into the hallway, completely blocking your path.

 He leaned heavily against the wall, a greasy, arrogant smirk spreading across his lips as his eyes traveled down your oversized hoodie.

"Frank didn't say he was keeping a cute little secret back here. What's your name, baby?"

You froze, your back hitting the opposite wall of the narrow corridor. 

"Excuse me, please. I just need to get past."

He didn't move. Instead, he stepped closer, his hand reaching out until his fingers caught around the loose fabric of your hoodie sleeve, tugging it against his knuckle. 

"Come on, don't be like that. Let's go hang out in the living room. Frank won't mind."

Before you could even swallow the lump of panic rising in your throat, a shadow fell over the long stuffy hallway.

Frank appeared out of nowhere. His guitar was gone, his face flushed an angry, glowing red from screaming his vocals into a mic. His eyes were completely wild, bloodshot, and utterly intimidating. 

He didn't say a single word. He just reached out, grabbing the guy by the collar of his stupid looking vest, and threw him backward with a terrifying force. The back of the guy's head hit the drywall with a sickening, hollow crack.

Frank swarmed him instantly, pinning him to the wall by his throat. He was mad. There were veins protruding from his thick tattooed neck.

"Don’t touch the kid, if you do- I swear-" Frank snarled, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated right through the floorboards,

 "I will break both of your fucking hands. Get out of my house. All of you. Get the fuck out. Now."

The hallway, and the rest of the apartment emptied in seconds. 

The front door slammed hard enough to shake the frames to his posters, and suddenly, the house was dead silent again, except for the ringing in your ears.

Frank stood with his back towards you, his shoulders rising and falling unevenly as he tried to catch his breath.

"Frank..." you started, your voice trembling, barely a whisper. "Thank you."

He whirled around, and the fury in his eyes hadn't faded at all- it was directed right back at you.

 He marched over, his heavy boots thudding against the floor, and slammed his hand against the wall right next to your ear, trapping you between his broad arm and his body. 

He was so close you could feel the heat radiating off his sweaty skin. He smelled like sulfur and cold, dirty sweat.

"Don't thank me," he hissed, his face mere inches from yours. 

"You're a liability. Do you understand me, kid? I have enough shit to deal with without having to babysit you and keep track of who's looking at you.” He paused. “Stay in your fucking room."

He ripped his hand away from the wall, leaving you trembling and breathless against the plaster as he stormed off to lock the front door.

You stood there, about to piss yourself, and scared for your life. He was no better than your dad…

You scurried into the bathroom- locking the door behind you, quickly. After you finished with your business, you stared at yourself in the mirror.

Tears were spilling from your eyes, restrained sobs only made the tears flow faster. Your face was red  and puffy when you finally retreated to your room.

There were two soft taps at the door, “hey- I, I’m sorry, kid- i” there was a long gap of silence. 

“Just- go to sleep.” Then you heard his heavy foot falls trail back to his room.

…

The heightened anger couldn't last forever.

A week later, the weather turned absolutely miserable, mimicking the heavy, suffocating atmosphere inside the apartment. 

Frank came home from a brutal, rainy weekend tour looking completely destroyed. 

When Frank finally stumbled through the door, he didn't have his signature scowl on. He just dropped all of his gear and rocketed towards his bedroom.

By around midnight, the silence was broken by the faint, wet sound of coughing through the thin walls.

You hesitated at his door for a long time before knocking softly. 

When there was no answer, only a ragged wheeze, you pushed it open. The room was freezing, and Frank was set under a single, thin blanket, shivering slightly. 

His skin was deathly pale, his cheeks flushed with a high, dangerous fever. He looked incredibly small. Without the sneer, the cigarette, and the loud voice. The dirtbag persona had completely dissolved, leaving just a hollowed out, broken down dude.

You ignored about all of those stupid warnings you got about going into his room.

 You just quietly went to work.

 You brought him a clean glass of water, a bottle of ibuprofen, and the heavy comforter from your own bed.

When you sat cautiously on the edge of the mattress to place a damp cloth across his burning forehead, his hand suddenly shot out from beneath the blankets. 

His fingers clamped tightly around your wrist. His grip wasn't violent, but it was unyielding, it was a desperate attempt to anchor himself to you. His dark eyes cracked open, glassy, unfocused, and entirely stripped of their armor.

"Why are you doing this?" he muttered, his voice incredibly rough, completely stripped of all its usual bite. "I'm miserable to you, kid. You should hate me."

"I don't hate you," you whispered, your heart doing a strange, heavy flip against your ribs.

Frank stared up at you for a long, agonizing moment, his thumb subconsciously brushing against the sensitive pulse point on your wrist, before his eyelids grew heavy and closed again.

 He didn't release your hand. So you stayed right there, sinking down until you were sitting on the floor with your back against his bed, letting him hold onto you until his fever finally broke in the early hours of the morning.

By the next afternoon, Frank was back on his feet, but everything had shifted.

 He was quiet. 

He avoided your eyes completely, overcompensating for his vulnerability by ignoring your presence, but the air between you was no longer cold- it was dense, charged with an unspecified amount of tension.

The draft in the apartment was brutal that evening. Shivering, you walked into the laundry room and found a faded, oversized red flannel shirt belonging to him sitting on top of the dryer. 

Without thinking, you pulled it over your shoulders, burying yourself in the heavy scent of him, matches, tobacco, and detergent.

You were walking back down the hall when Frank stepped out of his room. He froze when he saw you. His eyes locked onto the flannel, darkening instantly as he took in the way his clothes draped over your frame- and contrasted with your skin.

Nothing was said for a moment.

He just took slow, deliberate steps forward until he had you backed entirely against the closet. He leaned down, his chest almost brushing yours, his breath hot against your cheek.

"You like taking my things, kid?" he whispered, his voice dangerously low, a gravelly vibration that sent a violent shiver straight down your spine.

You couldn't breathe. 

Your hands bunched into the fabric of the flannel at your sides. "It was cold."

His gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, his jaw ticking tightly.

 For a second, he began to lean in, but he abruptly tore himself away, grabbing his keys off the counter and walking out into the pouring rain without another word.

…

It was the exact one month anniversary of the day your life shattered, the day your father officially lost custody and your parents became a taboo, painful blank space you couldn't think about.

The weight of the vulnerable grief hit you like a physical punch, paralyzing you from the moment you woke up.

When the sun went down, you couldn't bring yourself to turn on a single light. You just sat on the cold linoleum of the kitchen floor, your knees pulled tightly to your chest, wearing his red flannel, silently breaking down. 

The tears leaked down your face in the dark, your chest heaving with violent, yet, silent sobs.

The front door unlocked with a harsh click. Frank walked in, smelling of rain and his brand of cigarette smoke. He stepped into the kitchen and immediately flipped on the harsh, buzzing overhead light.

The sudden brightness blinded you, and you hid your face deeper into your knees. 

Frank froze. 

He looked at his own shirt on your shoulders, then down at you, you were shaking.You had expected him to say something snarky- but Instead, he dropped his keys onto the counter with a loud clatter, walked carefully over, and dropped to his knees right on the floor in front of you.

"Hey," he said, his voice rough but urgent. 

He reached out, his hands tight and unyielding as he grabbed your wrists, forcing your hands away from your face. 

"Hey. C’mon-Look at me, kid, look at me. Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing," you choked out, trying to pull your hands back, but his grip was iron.

"Don't lie to me." Frank snapped, his eyes blazing with a desperate, pent-up frustration that he had been building for months. 

"You've been living in my house like a ghost. You don't say a word, you don't ask for anything, you just carry this fucking weight around until you're breaking down on my fucking kitchen floor! Talk to me!"

The dam burst.

You didn't tell him the story, but the sheer emotion exploded out of you. 

"I do hate you!" you screamed, your voice cracking as you finally found your tongue. 

"I hate this house, I hate that I'm here, I hate that you're the only one left who even looks at me! It's not fair! Just leave me alone!"

You wrenched one hand free and hit his chest, trying to push him away, trying to beat back the suffocating reality of your life.

Frank didn't move. He took the blow, before his hand shot out and caught your wrist again. He pinned your hands against the kitchen floor, his body lunging forward until he was hovering over you, his chest crushing hard against yours.

"I'm not leaving you alone," he breathed, his face mere inches from yours.

 his dark eyes wide and completely stripped of any facade."I can't. Don't you get it, kid? I fucking can't."

The universe seemed to shrink down to the space between your lips. The years of repressed tension, the anger, the forced proximity, and the raw, unspoken need between you completely combusted.

Frank leaned down and crashed his mouth onto yours.

It was aggressive, raw, and desperate. 

the exact same explosive energy he poured into his music, but entirely focused on you. 

You let out a soft gasp against his lips, and he took immediate advantage of it, his tongue sliding into your mouth, tasting deeply of tobacco and iron. Your hands were still pinned beneath his, but you stopped fighting, leaning up into him as a fierce, electric heat flooded your lower stomach.

He groaned, a low, guttural sound in the back of his throat. He released your wrists, his hands immediately scrambling up the fabric of the flannel shirt to grip your waist, his calloused fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you further against the linoleum, his heavy weight settling firmly between your thighs.

"God- fuck- you're killing me," he muttered against your lips, his kisses turning frantic, tracing down your jawline to the sensitive skin of your neck. He bit down softly on the column of your throat, making you arch your back, your fingers immediately moving to his short, messy hair to pull him closer.

He pulled the flannel shirt off your shoulders, his hands hot and possessive as they slid under the hem of your tank top, mapping the curve of your waist, and the bend of your abdomen. 

Every touch was heavy, meaningful, and entirely consuming. He looked down at you, his breathing ragged, his pupils blown completely black with desire.

"You're mine now, kid," he whispered, his voice a rough, breathless command against your skin as his hands slid down to the button of your jeans. 

"Ya hear me? You're staying right here."

The bitchy facade was obliterated, shattered on the kitchen floor, leaving behind something fierce, permanent, and intensely protective as he pulled you into him, anchoring you to his world.

His nose trailed down your neck, his fingers still fumbling against the zipper of your jeans.

You basically just lay there, your pink swollen eyes staring down at Franks beautiful face.

Your breath had stopped completely, scared that he would recede, and go back to hounding you about every single thing. He looked back up at you, his fingers latched under the hem of your pants, ghosting against your hip bones. You nodded towards him, your head falling back- softly hitting the floor.

He yanked your pants down with one brutal tug.

Leaving you in a disheveled flannel, and your black panties.

Your sadness hadn't disappeared fully, but it morphed into a desperate need to be felt. You giggled when his eyes landed on your clothes core, an amount of embarrassment making you avoid eye contact.

“Fuck.” He muttered, his hands coming up, fingers splaying against your hipbones. His thumbs swiped against your exposed skin- taking in how vulnerable you looked on his kitchen floor.

A wave of guilt blew over him, but his desire fueled him on, blowing over all the guilt that made him hold back.

His hand swiftly ripped your panties down your legs, leaving your bottom half entirely exposed to him.

“Fuck.” He said, louder this time. It sounded like he had been kicked in the chest, the simple word making him choke. His hands came to your knees forcing your legs open, his gaze falling fully onto your core.

The whole situation had you soaking…

And that made the entire exchange more embarrassing than before. Your face was burning, your eyes on anything but yourself and him. 

He looked up at you and chuckled. “It looks like someone is all worked up…” his voice teasing.

Before you could respond, a moan ripped out of you. “Ugh, Fuck- Frank-“

His mouth found your clit easily, his tongue swirling against your sensitive bead. Your head was thrown back as his finger found your hole. His calloused finger slammed into you, while the other inched towards your clothed torso.

His hand ran under your tank top, and towards your bra. When he finally managed to get it loose- his large hand cupped your breast, rolling your nipple between his tattooed fingers.

More moans fell from your mouth as he continued. He was really getting off at this.

Your hand finally found his hair. You tugged it lightly.

Frank’s tongue pressed harder against your clit, the vibration from his low growl rolling straight through your soaked folds and making your thighs twitch around his head. His finger drove deeper, curling inside you with a rough, deliberate stroke that had your back arching off the cold kitchen floor.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he muttered against your sensitive pussy, lips shiny as he pulled back just enough to watch his finger disappear into you again. 

“God- look at this mess you’re making on my floor.”

His free hand shoved your tank top higher, exposing both tits. He pinched your nipple harder, rolling it between his calloused fingers while his mouth sealed over your clit again. He sucked, hard, then flicked his tongue in quick, relentless strokes that had your hips jerking.

You tugged his hair again, harder this time, and he groaned into you, the sound filthy. Another finger joined the first without warning, stretching you open as he pumped them in and out, the wet sounds echoing in the quiet kitchen.

“Your Mine, please” he grumbled, voice muffled against your cunt. “Please, just -Say it.”

His thumb replaced his tongue on your clit, rubbing tight circles while his fingers fucked into you faster. Your legs shook, spread wide by his grip on your knee. Every time you tried to close them he pushed them apart again, keeping you exposed.

Frank lifted his head, eyes dark and locked on your face as his fingers kept working you. 

“You gonna cum on my hand sweetheart?”

He leaned down again, sucking your clit between his lips while his fingers curled against that spot inside you that made your vision blur. Your hand tightened in his hair, pulling him closer as another moan tore out of you.

The orgasm hit you like a freight train, your whole body seizing as your back bowed off the linoleum. A broken cry tore from your throat, his name falling from your lips like a prayer as your walls clenched around his fingers, your slick coating his hand.

Frank didn't let up. He worked you through it, his tongue lapping at your clit with soft, deliberate strokes until your legs stopped shaking, until your hand fell limp from his hair. Only then did he lift his head, his chin glistening, his eyes blown wide and dark.

He crawled up your body, his jeans rough against your bare thighs. His cock pressed against your hip through the denim, thick and urgent, and he ground into you once, a desperate sound escaping his throat.

"You have no idea," he breathed against your lips, 

"what you do to me, honey."

His mouth crashed into yours, and you tasted yourself on his tongue, salty and sweet. His hands worked frantically at his belt buckle, the metal clinking, the sound of his zipper cutting through the heavy silence.

He pulled back just long enough to shove his jeans down his hips, his cock springing free, hard and aching. The head was slick, flushed, and he wrapped his hand around the base, pumping once as he positioned himself at your entrance.

His eyes met yours. The man looking at you now was stripped bare, raw, his jaw tight with restraint as he pressed the cock head against your soaked folds.

"Tell me," he said, his voice cracking. "Tell me- tell me that- that you want this, baby."

You couldn't speak. You just nodded, your legs wrapping around his waist, your heels digging into the small of his back as you pulled him closer.

He pushed in.

A broken moan punched out of you both. He was thick, stretching you open inch by inch, his forehead dropping to yours as he seated himself fully inside you. 

For a moment, he just stayed there, his breath hot and uneven on your lips, his body trembling with the effort of holding still.

"Fuck," he whispered, the word strangled. "You feel like- you just feel so good, sweetheart."

He pulled out slowly, agonizingly slow, then thrust back in with a snap of his hips that rocked your body against the floor.

 You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he set a rhythm. It was deep, punishing, each stroke hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.

His mouth found your neck, biting down as he fucked into you, his pace quickening. The kitchen was filled with the sounds of skin slapping, wet and obscene, your moans mixing with his guttural grunts.

"Yeah, that's it," he growled against your skin. "Take it, honey. Take all of it."

His hand slid between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and pressing hard, circling in time with his thrusts. Your second orgasm built fast, coiling tight in your belly, your legs locking around him as you clung to him like he was the only thing holding you together.

"Come on, baby," he urged, his voice broken, desperate. "Cum for me, baby. I need to feel you."

Your nails raked down his back as you shattered, your walls clenching around him, pulling him deeper. A guttural cry tore from his chest as he followed, his hips stuttering, his release flooding you in hot, pulsing waves.

He collapsed on top of you, his weight pinning you to the floor, his face buried in your neck. His breath was ragged, his heart hammering against your ribs, and for a long moment, neither of you moved.

Then his arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

“your mine, sweetheart”

The bitter weather had only worsened. It was more slick, more icy, and over all more miserable.

Friday had rolled around, the winter formal.

The school gym was practically steaming. Sweaty teenagers, all moving, and the mild scent of marijuahna. There were flashing string lights, and the clicks of cameras shuttering.

You didn’t really wanna go.

These things always overwhelmed you, your senses were completely flooded, and it was hard to know exactly what you were thinking.

Mikey was basically on his knees begging. He couldn’t bear going on his own,

 or just not going at all. So as the good friend you were- you went with him.

You smoothed over your dress, you were standing near the bleachers, watching Mikey passionately argue with another one of your friends about the concept of horror movies. 

Your self esteem had remained at a constant. You gazed around the large gymnasium room, body’s moved, talked, and sang along to the familiar song ‘wannabe’ by the spice girls.

You tapped your foot, now sitting on the cold metallic bleachers.

A sense of pride washed over you. Your mind wasn’t occupied by the stubborn senior that used to always be on your mind. You were a better person now.

You smiled to yourself. Gerard had nothing on you now.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by Mikey’s familiar voice.

“Hey!” He was jogging toward you, a concerned look on his face. His eyes were glued to his wrist, where his watch lay.

“______, I completely forgot- I needed to help my mom get my aunt from the airport-“ his voice had a pitch of worry. “Fuck- she’s gonna kill me. I’ve gotta be there by 8…”

“It’s fine Mikey-“ you nodded, “I can get a ride from someone- probably Ray-“ you muttered reassuring him.

 “Go ahead! It’ll be fine if you leave now!” You were now standing, kinda worried for Mikey.

“No way dude- it’s total downpour right now,”

Mikey was talking fast- he frantically pulled out his tiny flip phone. “I’ll get Gerard to drive you- he’s in the parking lot. I think he was here picking up some art supplies.”

Your heart dropped to your ass. 

“Mikey- no, I— its fine I’ll just-“ 

Mikey gave you a stern, serious look. He was not letting you walk or get any other ride home.

“He’s already waiting- please just go, before you get stuck here.”

He gave you a slow encouraging nod before turning and dashing towards the exit door. 

You stood still for a quiet moment, feeling the heavy bass from the song pulsing in your ear.

Although your armor was still holding up, you were hit with the familiar tightness in your chest. 

Taking a slow, steady breath, you grabbed your bag from the bleachers- waving and saying a quick “bye” before walking out of the school. 

You gripped the straps of your bag, the cold quiet air hit you, a stark contrast from the warm loud room. The cold bit your exposed shoulders and arms, wincing slightly before crossing them over your chest.

You stood under the awning outside the school door, looking up at the downpour that seemed to be beating down on the asphalt. The dark night consuming the snow. You looked forward to the full parking lot- before recognizing the old beat up Subaru XT. 

It was idling at the curb, windshield wiping whipping across the glass, swiping sheets of know off of it with each brutal swish. You could see him through the fogged passenger window, the stale light from the dashboard illuminating the left side of his face as he looked at you. 

You ran towards the car, your backpack being clutched over your head as the faint sound of your shoes clicked rapidly against the sidewalk. 

You opened the car door, sliding into the passenger seat before immediately slamming the door shut behind you. 

You sighed out, bending to put your backpack next to your feet under the dashboard.

The heat was blasting, as well as one of his mix’s that he made through the speakers. It smelt of cigarettes and his signature musk. 

The suffocating silence hit first. The only sound was the snow hitting the windows with soft pats. 

“hey,” Gerard’s voice was small, it was like he cut himself off before saying something else.

“Hi.” You responded, looking directly in front of you.

Your voice was empty of all emotion. It was strained.

Your eyes never met his, not once. 

They were trained on the blurring downfall, the recognizable amber streetlights making the snow glimmer. Your posture was frigid and distant.

Gerard glanced back at you, his hand finding the stick shift and putting it into drive. The car slowly pulled away from the curb, tires splashing in the slush. 

You stared back at the school as the distance became wider. The drive was agonizingly slow.

The streets were basically empty, and slick- making Gerard’s driving slow. His knuckles were turning stark white around the steering wheel, his fingers twitching nervously against the leather. 

He looked incredibly small in his oversized hoodie, completely lacking the arrogant, untouchable coolness he used to carry around like a shield. His jaw was tight, his breathing shallow.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. It was just the rain, the music, and the heavy weight of the both or your lingering regrets. 

You counted the telephone poles passing by, trying desperately to maintain the unbothered, flat expression you had practiced in the mirror. You kept telling yourself he was just an arrogant prick.

And that you were over him.

Before you knew it, the car turned down your familiar street. The silence shifted, you two were trapped- the warm space so much different from the flooding world outside.

The squeak of the window wipers seemed to creep under your skin. 

Your armor was heavy… too heavy.

The car finally rumbled to a halt right in front of your house. You reached down to grab your backpack, ready to make a quick escape, but before your fingers could even latch onto the plastic door handle, the sound of the engine cut out.

You turned in a quiet questioning surprise.

The car plummeting into the quiet darkness.

The only light coming from a distant street lamp.

You began to tug at the doorhandle- just ready to run through the grass towards your house- before soft plush fingers wrapped gently around your wrist. 

“Please wait- I,” 

“Gerard, I- I need to go inside.” Your voice cut him off, the finality made his skin crawl. You didn’t even turn towards him- you just stared at his hand still holding onto your wrist. 

“Just listen. I- I need to say something.” He muttered, tugging his hand back into his lap.

He just stared forward, not wanting to make you more uncomfortable than you already were.

When you didn't move, he took a shaky, ragged breath, his throat moving as his Adam's apple bobbed. The words spilled out of him in a desperate, uncharacteristic rush, stripping him from every ounce of his pride.

 "I'm so sorry. For everything. For the way I treated you in the kitchen, and for being such a fucking prick."

You kept your back to him, but your heart gave a sudden, violent thud against your ribs.

“I was scared. and clearly blind.”  He muttered the last part. His voice was trembling, and barely audible over the sound snow pattering against the roof.

 "When you stood in that kitchen and told me you liked me... I panicked -like a coward because I didn't think I deserved someone like you.” His cracked, it was way too raw of him. 

 “But seeing you move on... seeing you at the house with Mikey, laughing and being happy- without me... it's been absolute torture."

A deep, violet flush was crawling rapidly up his neck, traveling over his jaw until his entire face was a bright crimson. He looked completely mortified, utterly stripped of his defenses.

"I can't stop thinking about you-" he choked out, his dark pupils blown wide and pleading as he finally looked back over to you. 

"I can't stop drawing you either- Every single page of my sketchbook is just your face- I- it’s like I'm losing my mind.” Small tears welted in his eyes.

“ I really, really like you.

 I'm in love with you, and I regret shutting you out with every single fragment of my being."

The memory of Gerard rejecting you flooded your mind. The raw sting, and the cold tiled bathroom floor. 

Quietly stuttering over your words, you didn’t notice Gerard leaning over the center console. His hand was shaking as his fingers grazed your jaw. You flinched back in response, dragging yourself out of the trance. 

His eyes were dark, but his face was bright pink. (Although it couldn’t be seen in the dim light)

Before you could acknowledge it- he leaned into you, his lips catching yours in a warm kiss. 

The touch of your lips and his was electric. The exact replica of the dream.

He pushed further against you, his hand moving the cradle the back of your head. Before his tongue could make its entry, you shoved him. It was brutal, you just slammed your palms against his chest. 

it, a sudden wave of pure exasperation and anger burned right through you. Your armor didn't even dent.

‘Gerard Way just stole my first kiss.’ You thought. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes- your were filled with raw rage.

Gerard’s back hit the drivers door. His mouth was slightly agape, with lips swollen and pink.

His eyes were wide with complete shock. 

His face went from bright red to a pale, mortified expression, his chest heaving as he stared at you. He looked entirely stripped of his defenses, clutching his arms tightly against his chest, looking completely pathetic.

“A-are you serious?!” You spat at him, your tears spilling over. “Fuck- did you really just do that!”

“I- I thought,” he stammered, he looked entirely crushed. 

“You- YOU told ME that I was abrasive- that I was annoying. You rejected me to my face because I ‘didn’t know boundaries’.”

Your words were finally carried that thick emotion that it used to. But it wasn’t the emotion that Gerard craved.

“—And now that I finally move on, and stop fucking worshiping you, you suddenly change your mind!? You only want me now because it's convenient for your ego. Because you hate that I don't give you attention anymore." 

The silence in the confined Subaru returned, louder this time. Gerard had shrunk back into his seat, his eyes were sparkling with the glassy tears that covered them. His bottom lip began to tremble.

This was a total shitshow.

Gerard had never asked somebody out,

Well, he had never really liked anyone until you.

“No,“  he whispered, his voice was still small, cracking under the weight of his misery. 

“It’s not like that _____, I swear it isn’t. I don’t care about my ego- I don’t care about that stuff. It’s just that- I - I care for you so much. It hurts.” The tears spilled over the brim.

        “I know that it’s not my right. I know I ruined it all, i know. But please, please don’t say that I only want you for attention. I just want you.” 

It took every fiber of his being to keep from breaking down in front of you. 

You stared at him as you felt cracking. You looked down at yourself to see a sharp bullet breaking through your exterior, your armor.

your chest was heaving as the cold rain outside kept beating down on the glass. You wanted to open the door, run up to your porch, and leave him to drown in his own regret.

But all you could do is stare.

Blankly. Burning tears trailing down your face.

He really was pathetic.

He was curled against the door, his lips still plush from the kiss, and his eyes. They were empty, hollowed out by grief- given the situation.

Something shifted in you.

The anger was still hot, but underneath it, a profound, crushing ache split right through all of your defenses. The truth was too heavy to ignore anymore. 

You weren't over him. You had never been over him. You had just been survival-mode angry, building a wall out of his insults because the alternative was feeling this exact, agonizing vulnerability.

You were still deeply, completely in love with Gerard. 

That small realization burnt hotter than the tears that rolled down your cheeks.

Your mouth went dry.

"You don't get to just switch it on and off, Gerard," you whispered, your voice dropping from a scream into a fragile, broken fracture.

 A fresh wave of tears slid down your face. 

"You left me on the floor. I had to change everything about myself just to stop crying every time I walked into your house.” Your voice only pierced the silence, fast and raw.

“You don't get to just drag me back into the dark because you finally realized you're lonely."

Gerard was silent. He stared back into your eyes. Pupils blown so wide that he could barely see your iris.

“You're right. I don’t get to just pull you down into the dark with me. I want to go into the light with you.” He moved his hand, placing it ‘palm up’ on the center console. 

“Please, just don’t shut me out forever. Just- please give me a chance?” Gerard pleaded (begged, if you must.)

Your eyes slowly moved down to his hand.

The storm outside only seemed to grow louder, the wind shaking the life out of the old Subaru.

You didn't take his hand. 

Your armor was cracked, but you weren't ready to let it drop entirely. It was going to take time.

There wasn’t anything else that you wanted to hear, or say.

“Bye Gerard.” You said with a sniff, pulling the car door open. The rush of the cold air flew into the car, you grabbed your backpack off of the floorboards and slammed the car door shut with a shwuch!

The second you stepped out, your shoes sank into the freezing slush as you turned you back towards the subaru. 

You began to march towards your house, not even bothering to cover yourself from the snow. 

“Wait—“ 

You heard the shwuch! of the driver's side door shutting. You didn’t look back- hearing Gerard’s footsteps crunch on the frozen blades of grass.

You kept walking forward, determined to reach your porch. By the time you reached the steps, you felt Gerard’s hand tug at your bare shoulder. 

God- why hadn’t you thought to bring a jacket?

He was completely out of breath, his face bright pink and streaked with the previous tears shed. His dark hair was already getting plastered to his forehead by the downpour. He looked entirely ridiculous, standing out in the freezing dark without a proper coat, shivering violently as he looked up at you from the bottom step.

“Please don’t just leave it like that.” He didn’t stutter- even with the chatter of his teeth.

“Talk to me! Yell at me- please, just anything… anything but that.”

You spun around on the top step, the distance between you and Gerard giving you just enough leverage to look down at him. 

Hot anger flared up in your chest all over again, breaking through the numbness.

"What do you want me to say, Gerard?!" you shouted, your voice cracking as the wind whipped around your exposed shoulders. 

"You think that just because you chased me out of your car, everything is suddenly fine? You think a few sentences changes the fact that you broke my heart months ago? It doesn't!"

Gerard visibly flinched back. You could see the wind whipping against his hoodie and jeans. 

To you, he looked small. The way the sickly yellow porch light made his hazel eyes glow tragically.

 “None of this is fine-_____.” 

 “— I know I’m the last person you want to be talking to. But I'd rather stand out here and freeze to death than go back to that house and pretend you don't exist anymore! I can't do it! I won’t go back to hiding in my room and drawing you from memory when the real thing is right here!"

Gerard began to approach you again. His shyness disappeared, and it was replaced with desperation.

“Please forgive me. Don’t want you to forgive me tonight. I want you to be sure.

I'm not going anywhere ______. 

I'm going to be there every time you come over to hang out with Mikey. I'm going to listen to you talk about your comics, and I'm going to look at you every single time you let me. Because I'm completely, utterly stupid for you. And I'm going to spend the rest of my life making sure you know it."

You stared down at him, your breath pooling in thick white clouds between the two of you. 

He was pathetic.

 And he was completely stripped of any armor, shivering on your porch steps, utterly defenseless and entirely yours. The hot realization that you were still completely in love with him burnt right through the very last layer of your pride.

Before you could think, before your brain could talk you out of it, you stepped down.

You lunged forward, your hands catching the damp fabric of his oversized hoodie, pulling him up the remaining distance until your lips crashed directly into his.

This time, it wasn’t shameful. It was yours.

The freezing rain was still beating down on you, but it didn’t bother you. It had left a beautiful aftertaste on Gerard’s slick lips. The heat radiating off of him filled your mind completely, flooding all of your senses. 

Gerard let out a choked gasp when you rocketed out towards him. His arms caught a the back of your elbows as they wrapped around him, your hands cupping the wispy hair at the nape of his neck. 

He pulled your bodies flush together, and held you against him- as if he was scared you would change your mind, pull away- leave him.

Your lips were still moving against his- warm and slippery- you groaned- tugging his hair slightly.

Gerard groaned softly against your mouth- the hum vibrating against you- and shooting straight to your crotch.

You pulled away, gasping for air. 

His lips were plump and pink again. You gave him a little peck again before pulling away fully.

His eyes fluttered open, gazing fully at you- his eyes were filled with want, desperation, and lust.

His eyelashes caught the light perfectly, and the way he was looking at you… (god- you needed to be held back.)

He gazed up at you too. You were beautifully wrecked, your lips plump with a faint tint of red. And your hair more disheveled than before. Your dress strap had slipped, leaving you shoulder entirely exposed.

Gerard flushed. The bright red creeping back up his neck… painfully fast. 

The silence that settled over the porch was entirely different from the suffocating tension in the car. It was thick and heavy with an unspoken understanding that made your skin tingle- despite the biting winter air. 

Gerard's hands slowly slid down from your elbows, his fingers lingering against your arms as if he couldn't bear to lose the physical proof that you were actually there, reaching back for him.

"You're freezing…" he whispered, his voice incredibly soft, his chest heaving as he breathed in the white plumes of air between you.

 He looked completely unraveled, his cheeks a brilliant crimson under the yellow porch light.

The desperation in his dark eyes hadn't faded, but it had morphed into something deeply reverent, entirely focused on you.

“I’m fine.” You murmured breathlessly. Although the angry chatter of your teeth said otherwise.

Your armor hadn’t cracked, it dissolved.

You felt emotionally vulnerable, the most alive you had felt in the last couple months. 

Gerard immediately noticed your shift in demeanor, himself too became much more shy and bashful. 

hesitant shyness creeping back into his movements, as he began to pull at the hem of his oversized hoodie, ready to peel it off right there in the freezing rain just to wrap it around your bare shoulders.

“Dont- you idiot.” You said, with a soft tearful giggle.

Your hand found its way to his hands, stopping him from tugging his hoodie off.

As the moment thickened, your tone slowly became more serious- your mood shifting into a more thoughtful state.

“You're drenched.” You stated, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Just… go back to your car.” You said more quietly. Your hands began to drift towards his shoulders. 

His shoulders slouched at your touch, possibly from your words too. He didn’t move- He stared at you, capturing every detail of your face. It was as if he were trying to commit this exact moment to memory.

 As your gaze lingered on, look Gerard’s flush grew. He was practically steaming with a face crimson red.

The entire moment felt as if light years went by, every single second being drawn out into hundreds and hundreds of years.

Gerard’s gaze drifted to your exposed shoulders, then neck, then down to your cleavage. Immediately snapping his eyes away from you as a whole, and glancing behind you at the door of your house.

You turned your head away bashfully, very suddenly aware of how cold it really was… and exposed you were.

You crossed your arms over your chest hoping that the sheer size of the dress didn’t cause any awkwardness around the situation.

Your voice clipped through the sound of the storm.

“Gerard, we are gonna get frostbite if we stay out here any longer.” You stated softly.

“Please call me.”  Gerard pleaded.

“I will.” You responded, a smile tugging at your lips.

Gerard stood completely still- just standing there, like he was waiting for something. His eyes filled with the heartbroken look.

Then Gerard took a small hesitant step backwards, wincing as if leaving you was physically painful.

Gerard cleared his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly. 

You turned and began to walk up to your door.

You snaked your hand backwards towards your keys that jingled loosely on a carabiner latched to your backpack.

Then Gerard was behind you.

You smiled when you felt his presence, slowly turning around.

Gerard quickly leaned down into you, his lips finding yours once again, in a quick- electric kiss.

The kiss was a sharp, and breathless contrast to the frantic moments from before. This touch was urgent, a sudden attempt to bridge the distance before the night forced a separation.

 The warmth of the contact offered a brief reprieve from the biting winter air, leaving a lingering sense of anticipation.

Before the embrace could deepen, Gerard pulled away. His breath hitched as he looked down, his expression a mix of vulnerability and resolve under the dim porch light. He looked entirely moved by the moment, his earlier heartbreak replaced by a quiet, flickering hope.

"Talk to you soon…?" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the wind.

"Definitely," came the soft reply.

The key turned in the lock, and the heavy wooden door finally provided a shield against the storm. Leaning back against the frame, a long held breath that you hadn’t known you were holding was finally released. 

Your house was quiet, although your mind remained loud with the memory of his presence. 

Outside, the engine of the old Subaru rumbled to life, its taillights casting a faint red glow against the falling snow before disappearing into the darkness.

The barriers between two people had shifted.

Walking down the hallway toward the quiet safe- haven of your bedroom.

…

You sat cross cross on your bed, just rethinking, and running over the previous interaction.

Your thoughts were pierced with the sharp RING of the house phone.

You smiled.

(I KNOW HOW RUSHED THIS IS!!) anyways, Heyy🥹 I am so glad that yall have stayed invested- and this chapter I really got into- (given the 4000 word count) I hoped you enjoyed- (cause I know yall are excited for that smut.) I KNOW SOME PEOPLE SAID THAT IT WAS REALLY PROBLEMATIC TO HAVE SMUT IN THIS FIC- so that’s why it would be in the next chapter.

REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN!!!