okay not 2 be that guy but i get really weird whenever ppl make illi mcmillin cis. her entire character is based on gerard way (who is amab) so it makes zero sense for illi to be afab..??? liek just say ur transphobic brah idk :’c
This is a controversial take in the mcr Tumblr community, but I really hate when people call Gerard Way "she" considering how his pronouns on everything are HE/THEY! Just because he's done drag does NOT mean he is transgender. And before you imbeciles come at me saying "She's a millionaire! She doesn't care what pronouns teenagers use on her on the internet" For one, he doesn't go by she/her, and you should respect people's pronouns no matter what.
This is a controversial take in the mcr Tumblr community, but I really hate when people call Gerard Way "she" considering how his pronouns on everything are HE/THEY! Just because he's done drag does NOT mean he is transgender. And before you imbeciles come at me saying "She's a millionaire! She doesn't care what pronouns teenagers use on her on the internet" For one, he doesn't go by she/her, and you should respect people's pronouns no matter what.
Contains: Internalized homophobia, hurt/comfort but it’s not real comfort, reader being a shitty brother, dry heaving, angry sex, frank is a bottom, turning point..??
4.7k words & 25k characters
NOT PROOFREAD!
Frank’s bathroom was a disaster to say the least. It was connected to his bedroom. It wasn’t super disgusting, just a mess. Clothes, towels, so many random half empty soaps, lotions, everything. Most of them were travel sized as well. It almost made you laugh.
The shower was warm, you knew it was colder than he normally liked it though, just for you.
The boy leaned into you, warm water just splaying along your bodies. It was comfortable, his forehead dropped onto your shoulder, your hand found his hair. It was damp, the shaggy tufts sticking to the nape of his neck.
You traced the scorpion against the side of Frank’s throat. He’d given you your own tattoos with how those love bites were turning out.
There weren’t any words for a very long time. Not when the water began to turn cold, nor when Frank shivered slightly. Just quiet shuffling as you two shifted around.
Your opposite hand ran along Frank’s back, feeling how the muscle twitched against your fingertips, eyes dropping to the colored ink staining his chest and stomach. It was a lost cause to try and see it all.
To see all of Frank.
That same hand went to trace the guns right by his hips. You’d laughed at him for getting a tramp stamp. It was ‘too feminine’ in your eyes.
Then again, you’d shamefully fantasized about seeing that same tattoo.
Search and Destroy.
Just having another glimpse into him.
You’d gotten lost in your thoughts for a couple of minutes, mindlessly tracing Frank’s back when you finally heard a noise other than the water running.
It was nothing more than a mumble.
“Huh?”
You replied, pulling back slightly to look at him.
Frank couldn’t look you in the eyes, or maybe he just didn’t want to.
“I wish you weren’t a fuckin’ boy.”
The adam’s apple in his throat bobbed slightly. Something cold dropped in your stomach. You’d thought it before, you know he had. Though, saying it out loud was a new ballpark.
“I’m sorry.”
You answered. His head dropped back to your shoulder as you held Frank close once again. Arms moving to hold around his shoulders.
The water soon became cold, leaving both of you on the verge of shivering. Frank pulled himself from you, moving to stop the shower water. You stepped out as he did so, just grabbing a towel off the ground to dry yourself.
“I don’t know why we’re like this.”
Frank’s voice came from behind the curtain. The sound causing you to turn back.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
You mumbled, running the towel along your body. The conversation didn’t make you feel any better than the thoughts that had been clinging to you all day. You tied the towel around your waist as if modesty mattered.
You were so lightheaded.
Standing for any longer felt unbearable.
Frank’s gaze perked up as he heard your damp footsteps move away, the door open, and you walk out. You didn’t close the door, just left the bathroom.
He didn’t call out for you, didn’t ask where you were going. Though, the boy’s hazel eyes watched you leave, not knowing if you’d even come back.
Your clothes still sat splayed along the couch armrests and floor. You picked them
up, finally able to catch on the heavy scent of cigarettes and sweat in your shirt and jeans. It made you uncomfortable.
Everything just ended up back in a neat pile sitting atop the couch. A small buzz came from the back pocket of your jeans.
A small sigh came from back of your throat.
You picked up the phone, checking the texts and calls. Everyone was too worried about you, as per usual. All of the past messages from hours prior under franks name were bright and flashing. You ended up deleting them.
After tossing the phone onto the couch, you grabbed your boxers from the crumpled up pile of clothes. They’d really only picked up on how much you’d been sweating, whatever.
It took almost more guts than you had just to pick that stupid phone back up.
Your ringtone blared, only abruptly ending as you placed the phone to your ear, answering a call. One of the first you’d answered since you’d left that fast food restaurant.
“Ray— yes— hi I’m okay—“
“Mom called me— she couldn’t find you— Y/N— god— you stupid sonovabitch!”
You groaned quietly, trying to not let it pick up on the microphone. The room you stood in still smelled faintly of sex. It made you ashamed once again.
What would Ray think? His stupid little brother having some secret gay relationship with his bandmate.
It’d be fine if you were anyone else.
Just not his brother.
Of course Ray had just been blaring through the phone. You’d tuned him out for just a minute or two.
“For the love of god— Y/N— where the fuck are you?”
Your name brought you back to reality. A lump formed in your throat.
“Iero’s.”
“Like Frank Iero?”
The dumbfounded sound of his voice made your chest tighten. Ray proceeded to go on some tangent about how much your attitude towards Frank had changed over the last week and a half.
“Are you okay there? I can always call—“
“I’m fine. I’m just— crashing on the couch.”
At some point in the conversation, you’d felt a pair of eyes watch over you from across the room. Familiar, hazel eyes.
“Y/N, who’s that?”
You covered the microphone on the phone before turning towards Frank.
“Nothing. Get out of my fuckin’ business.”
Shit.
Maybe that was too mean.
Still, you just went back to the phone.
Franks voice sounded back at you, “Don’t fucking talk to me like that. You know that’s not fair to either of us.”
“Ray— dude— can I—“
“You talking to Ray? Why don’t you tell him why you’re at my house, Y/N?”
Both voices going at once made your head pound.
“Is that Frank? Let me talk to him—“
“No— Frank— Ray— shit.”
Frank attempted to speak over you. “Your brother’s been—“
“Let me call you back.”
“What?” Ray’s voice had that same connotation it always did when got worried.
You shut off the phone and chucked it onto the couch, sighing. A slight shake had taken over your chest. Your knees felt weak.
Hot, frustrated tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. Every bone in your stupid body wanted to hit Frank. It was painful how much you hated him right then and there.
Frank was silent. You turned towards him slightly. He could definitely tell that your body wanted to sob.
Then that feeling came up as you met his eyes. Your mouth filling with saliva, your stomach churning, a heaving in your diaphragm.
You weren’t a normal boy.
Without a care for anything, you shoved Frank out of the way, bolting to his bathroom.
“Don’t be like that!”
You couldn’t even respond, forced to shut him out. The gagging was painful. You hadn’t eaten enough for it to really have anything able to be forced up.
Nothing except for tears. Like a child, you huddled over the edge of the bathtub, dry heaving and sobbing, exhausted.
Somehow being that miserable was comforting in some stupid, fucking twisted way.
It took at least five minutes for your stomach to settle. You hadn’t even registered the arm around your back nor the voice apologizing in your ear.
You looked up and over at Frank. You could really see how much he’d aged over the last half decade. Sure, he was still young, but so much had changed.
Same puppydog eyes, just with heavier bags underneath them. Small scars from his old piercings. He’d grown into his face.
But, the largest change was that he sat by your side then.
Frank stayed. Even knelt over his bathtub, dry heaving. He stayed.
Shame. Shame on you for having ran away over and over again.
“Frank— i’m so— mhm— so fucking sorry.”
Your throat was so hoarse, voice nasally. Everything just seemed to have exploded into one meltdown. You physically couldn’t stop crying.
It was that same feeling in high school, realizing you weren’t like other guys. Seeing how their eyes fell on only girls and how they were almost scared to be effeminate.
That cry wasn’t the same as with Ray. You were barely conscious when you saw your brother. With Frank, you were so uncomfortably aware.
Aware on how he pulled you into his kneeling stance.
And how he kissed the top of your head and listened to your endless rambling and apologizing.
You still couldn’t admit you were gay.
Never.
Especially not with the way you’d acted around Mikey and Pete. Not how you’d basically spat on them for it.
You looked a bit higher into Frank’s eyes.
All you could do was hate yourself as you saw the reflection of your trembling body in his eyes.
The boy’s voice was shaky, unsure, “I—“
Frank stopped himself short. Like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.
You tried to apologize again, that time for leaving spittle on his chest. He shut you up quick by pressing his lips onto yours, not caring about the slight taste of bile. Frank always hated when you apologized over and over again.
There wasn’t enough fight in you to push him away.
God, it felt so good.
Intoxicatingly.
Still, you somehow wanted to punch him in the teeth. Watch his blood spray, see how he reacted.
To be in control of yourself for two seconds.
A simple kiss enveloped itself into more, quickly, everything.
That’s how it always conspired. You’d always be so angry at each other. It lead to the disparity of needing each other. His hands were all over you, yours tugging at his hair.
You two were on a sinking ship, flooding with freezing water in the Atlantic.
Frank pushed you down onto your back, caging you underneath him, hands outside each of your shoulders.
The damp bathmat sat underneath your head, not helping your already still wet hair. His small whines and whimpers spurred on that familiar feeling in your lower gut.
It was hot, twisting your stomach in knots. Electric spikes pricked at your spine, starting from the top vertebrate to the bottom.
Tongues and teeth clashed together, unscripted, a mess.
That boy on top of you pulled away, his lips raw and soaked. You hated how much you loved it all. Your eyes met his for a second, he glanced away. His shaggy hair fell from the sides of his face.
“I— I have— um— I have condoms in my bedroom.”
You stared at the implication. It was always handjobs or sucking each other off. Only once or twice did you actually go full into it.
“I’m clean— really.”
“Okay.”
A quiet nod gave Frank the interest he needed to clamber off of you, standing up slowly. Your throat was still raw and your body was still weak, but you stood up after him.
It wasn’t long before everything became that disgustingly hot swirl. Mouths, hands, hips, bones, teeth.
Frank tugged the boxers you’d just put on back off of your hips, tossing them god knows where.
It would’ve all been easier if you didn’t live in such a small community. Everyone knows everyone. No one cares enough in a big city.
There wasn’t any noise besides anything you two were the cause of. The loudest thing was the yip Frank let out as you sunk a deep love bite into his shoulder.
It was so horrifically addicting to kiss along his body. Not quite fulfilling, but just trying to get as close to intimate as possible.
A wrapper sat on the nightstand table, a light blue color. The sacrificial witness to skin against skin. That plastic had seen more than many would care to admit.
You’d sat across from Frank, stripped down, latex pulled till the base of your groin. Both of you were aware of the abnormal routine of it all. Your eyes sat watching the tattoo’d boy across from you work himself open, clear lube on his fingertips .
‘Halloween’ spelt along the same fingers used for such adultish acts. Though, you couldn’t look away. He was so fucking pretty like that. Glassy eyes, lips slightly ajar, tongue poking around the inside of his mouth.
You couldn’t not be somewhat impatient. It was hard to not just lunge at him. You didn’t move though, not until he looked up at you, eyes pleading.
He was on his back, knees propped up. A clear bottle of lube sat on that same bedside table. You leaned past Frank, reaching and pumping some of the cold fluid on your hand. Biting down on your tongue as you dragged that hand up and down your shaft.
Frank reached towards you, you complied by settling between his legs. His stomach was slick from himself.
Your stomach churned slightly at the sight.
His hands landed on your shoulders, eyes pleading up at you. A silent ‘please’ fell from his lips, as if all of the issues between you two could be fixed by fucking each other.
You nudged at his hole, feeling how the bottom of his stomach pulled in slightly. It was always odd when you two went the whole distance. Both of you physically couldn’t get any closer.
Legs locked around your hips, pressing in on the flesh of them. The sensation of it all took time to get used to once more. That never changed, how Frank reacted.
A small, high pitched groan escaped the back of his throat as your pelvis pressed flush against his. His face was pink, a slight sheen of sweat covering it.
“I— I lo—“
You choked on your words as a steady pace along your hips began. In out, In out. Slow, almost calculated pulses quickly turned into messy rutting. Hands on either sides of his torso, you leaned over Frank.
“What— what was that?”
Frank asked, staring up at you. Between his words were small whines.
“Nuh-nothin’.”
A hot coiling formed down low in your stomach. So many emotions stirred up every which way inside of you. Frank reached up to hold your face, a look of desperation on his face, his eyes were glassed over.
He knew what you wanted to say.
He just kissed you instead, shoving his tongue in your mouth roughly.
It was always a better way to get you to shut up before you said something stupid. Your eyes still stung from those prior tears, a slight pink rim around them.
You felt needy, more so than with any other boy you could’ve even possibly been with. Not Stan, not a random hookup, no one.
Mumbled curse words came between your lips. The taste of Frank’s spit filled your mouth, falling down and back your throat. He was so fucking special to you, the most someone could be.
And yet, after that, the summer would pass once more. You knew that. You knew he’d go back on tour and make more music and leave you in the dark.
But for a moment, buried inside him, you meant something.
“Frankieimsososorryforeverything—“
You muttered against his lips, pressing your forehead to his, hips still pressing in and out of his body.
“Shut the— the fuck up. You’re so fucking stupid.”
Frank sputtered out, his words having no real bite behind them.
A familiar warmth and tension built up at your groin joining with how Frank’s hips bucked to meet yours. You’d shamefully fantasized about this hundreds of times.
In the shower, in your bed, alone, whenever. His thought, the thought of having your boy near was intoxicating.
His breath was hot against your face, curse words forced their up and out of his throat.
You felt one of Frank’s hands slip down between the both of you, stroking himself up and down in time with your rutting. You wouldn’t dare to try and look the boy in the eyes.
Frank pulled you back down to his lips, his groaned audibly into your mouth, letting your body mumble the sound. Your hips stuttered before you whined against his tongue.
A warm rush filled your body, the tensioned feeling in your stomach finally snapping, releasing all the pressure there. Frank continued to run his hand up and down himself, fucking his own fists as you slowed down.
You sat up just enough to replace Frank’s hand with your own, doing the job for him. It was the least you could do. A hot fluid quickly covered your fingers and his stomach.
Frank moaned at the feeling, his chest heaving up and down. That was the most beautiful part about it all, seeing him like that. You pulled out of him, sitting back on your heels.
It was gross, the mess of cum and sweat between you two. But it was the kind of grossness that you were drawn to.
That boy across from you leaned over to his bedside table, grabbing a couple of tissues from the drawer. He wiped himself down, leaving the white cotton along his stomach.
His head tilted back, a sigh falling from his lips before he spoke.
“Why do you— do we do this.”
Your eyes, which had turned to wander across the room, came back to Frank.
“You started it, Iero.”
A flicker of something strained passed on his face, you could see it from how his adam’s apple bobbed. You scooted off the bed, taking the tissues from off his stomach.
You were in the bathroom, discarding of the soiled cotton and condom, when a voice, his voice came from his bedroom.
“You continued it, Y/N. Hell— you almost just said..” He went quiet, “Never mind.”
“I— I didn’t mean it.”
“You say that, but I think you did mean it, asshole.”
There he was. The sarcastic, snarky Frank you knew. Not the one who’d look at you like you hung the moon just for him. You were so in love.
“I never mean it. You always just catch me at a bad time.”
“Bad time? Like when we’re both high off our asses and grinding on each other? Grow up.”
You had moved from his bathroom to standing in his doorway. He had since sat up, checking his phone. It was almost funny, that shaggy mop of hair on his head was still damp from your shower.
Frank looked so human sat there. That body wasn’t the same boy who’d go and lick the face of his lead singer nor the one who’d use a fake oxygen tank on stage.
Just a boy, just your boy.
“Then tell me why you made me promise i’d never tell Ray.”
It took a weird amount of courage to request that of him. You were almost scared he’d hate you afterwards. His eyes met yours.
“You agreed to that promise, that’s not fair.”
“You made me make it, Frank.”
“I never made you do jackshit.”
“Don’t look at me and lie to me.”
You moved closer, standing by the footboard of the bed instead. Frank placed his phone down onto his chest, looking up at you. The look in those hazel eyes made your stomach hurt.
Clothes were the last thing on your mind as you clambered back onto that back, next to Frank. You were both quiet, he clicked off the lamp.
There was no movement, just quiet, restless breathing.
He quietly moved towards you, laying his head along your chest. The way his shoulders tensed proved he was still just as angry as before, just quieter.
“I dedicated a film to you, you know.”
“What?”
“Mhm.”
Frank didn’t look at you, but you could feel the vibrations of his voice against your body. The admission was embarrassing, but you said it anyways.
You continued on, “It was for my class final, in April.”
There was a soft pause. You laughed dryly, feeling embarrassed from the declaration you’d made.
“What’d you say?” Franks voice had a hint of genuine curiosity.
“I’ll never leave Jersey again.”
Frank seemed to tense up when you said it. It was a silly promise you’d made the one time you’d come back from college. One that fell through borderline immediately.
It was sometime in winter around late 2003, some random shitty New Year’s party.
Stupid, young, dumb, high.
Head in your lap, staring up you with bloodshot eyes. Frank still had a shitty mohawk at the time. One of the many stupid haircuts he’d had.
Too hot for comfort, too exhausted to really move. That picture sat in your car, tucked into the sun visor. Ray had taken and printed it thinking it was the silliest thing.
Just two guys who hated each other having a singular nice moment.
He didn’t see the spit coating your lips or how kiss swollen Frank’s may have been. The look in his eyes when he looked at you seemed innocent enough.
Weed and liquor words and actions are always sober thoughts.
You’d touched him for the first time then, stroked him off. He’d sucked you off in return, poorly at that. It was almost a funny memory.
He was embarrassed, you were embarrassed, all of it.
It felt so gross, being so into him. But at the same time, it felt so fucking addicting. Like he was more than the alcohol.
Frank had stared up you, chuckling when he felt the obvious tent in your jeans under his head. Adoration was filling those big eyes.
You’d muttered, “Ive always hated leaving.”
“Why?”
“I’m always too far away from everything. Plus, frat dudes are assholes.”
“You’re an asshole, Y/N.” Frank had laughed at you.
“Okay, okay, they’re just worse assholes.”
“I’m surprised that’s possible.”
“Shuddup.”
You placed a hand over his mouth, palm over his lips. It was someone’s sticky basement floor, neither of you cared. Frank licked your palm to get you to let go.
It was all useless, playful arguing.
“If you hate leaving, promise me— hic— fuck— me something?” Frank giggled at his own mishap.
“Sure, Iero, sure.”
“You’ll never leave this place again?”
“Whatever, yeah, I’ll never leave Jersey again.”
Those words always stuck in your brain.
That stupid, unfulfilled promise lead to nothing but what was happening right then.
Franks head on your chest in dead of night.
Sweaty, not quite clean, skin on skin.
You mumbled a few pathetic words, “I miss your quiet guitar playing whenever i’m alone.”
“You called it pathetic.”
“I lied, Frank, I lied.”
Frank relaxed slightly, his head moving closer to yours. You smelled the shampoo in his hair, finding comfort in the familiarity of it all. Happy.
Sleep came as a temporary solution to a permanent, convulsing problem.
———
Your head hurt somewhat less than it had the last week and a half. Now the dull ache could just be credited to the lack of food in your system, not from lack of sleep.
Speaking that it was 12:03PM when you woke up.
A phone, your phone, sat on the bedside table, no buzzing came from it then. The comforting weight that had been there when you had slept was gone.
He wasn’t far, though. You could hear subtle moving from the other room. The sound of shitty TV came from the living room.
You checked your phone, seeing the missed calls. A sigh came from the back of your throat as you grabbed the phone, dialing your mother’s number.
It was a bunch of, “yes mom, i’m safe” and “i’m alive don’t worry.”
All of it was a bore, an oddly reassuring one, but a bore. Frank had soon come to stand in the doorway, leaning his shoulder against it quietly.
He watched as you stared at the ceiling, answering pointless questions. You sat up, seeing Frank and giving him a quick look. A couple of short answers and quick goodbyes left the room quiet once again.
You didn’t say anything to Frank before moving to dial up your brother, taking a deep breath before doing so.
It rang five times before Ray picked up.
“Y/N? Are you okay—? Mom told me—“
“Ray, I’m fine. I had to crash at Frank’s. I slept…on his couch.”
“Can I talk to him?”
You mouthed at Frank to draw him towards you. He moved to stand next to you, you passed the phone to him.
“Thanks for giving me your asshat kid brother.”
The conversation was a lot of Frank hiding the fact you were sitting in his bed right then…or the fact that you smelled just like him.
Maybe it would’ve been nice to not hide, that thought creeped up in your mind.
If you were a girl you wouldn’t have to worry.
You forced it down.
You’re not a girl, you’re never going to be one.
What if that was what Frank wanted though? He’d say he wished you were a girl the night before. Then again, he’d pleaded with you to fuck him not long after.
You stared up at him, his back was facing you.
You liked— loved him so much it fucking hurt. Your heart twisted slightly at the thought of him with a girl. Someone underneath him instead of him underneath you.
It was oddly out of character for you, to be so jealous.
Jealous of something that wouldn’t happen, right?
Though, you hadn’t been loyal to him in the slightest. You’d hooked up with drunk guys here and there for years. Hell, some guy fucking spat in your mouth.
But it just felt wrong for it to not be Frank.
You tried your best to not let it consume you, that was how it’d be easiest. Especially as Frank ended the call, closing the phone and placing it back down.
He turned to look at you, to study the expression on your face.
“He’s worried about you.”
“Ray’s always worried about me, treats me like a child.”
“You act like a child sometimes. I mean— driving while still not be cleared from your concussion?”
“Oh, I act like a child and then you just beg me to have sex with you.”
“Grow up.”
“You grow up, Iero.”
You stood up, trying to leave, before immediately feeling the aftermath of not eating more than 500 calories. Pathetically, your body came back down to bed, sitting on the edge of it.
Frank came and sat next you, shoulder to shoulder.
He sighed, “I don’t know what to tell him anymore.”
“Me neither. I’m a screwup, though, so I can always cover for you,” You replied, snickering at your own self resentment.
“Don’t say that, Y/N.” He sat up and looked at you, a concerned, questioning smile on his face.
“Don’t be so nice to me, it’s weird.”
You mumbled sarcastically in response, rolling your eyes.
“Damn, didn’t know you were above comfort.”
Frank shoved your shoulder.
Words slowed into nothing but breathing. It wasn’t silent, the TV was still on, but it was quiet. You could’ve sat there for hours.
You glanced over at Frank once again, eyes falling on the bite you’d placed on the side of his throat. It was gross, purple and bruising up nicely. Your hand moved and touched it gingerly.
“You got me good,” Frank stated softly.
“I’m scared to see what my own neck looks like. You tend to go all over.”
You leaned in and pressed a kiss against the dark splotch on his neck. Frank moved to let you do as you pleased. Something in you liked the fact that you’d done that to him, and he’d done the same to you.
When you pulled away, he just stared at you, eyes meeting yours.
You wanted him so badly.
——
A/N: thank you all so much for the love, stay weird!
the pre-preduction media for Nanana's music video (though likely not all the footage the band got) as found on a wayback machine archive of this post
notes: NO PISS FILTER, yes this is the absolute highest quality I could get it, no idea where other archives of this are, this seems to have been smashed together as a promotional cut rather than as the rough draft of the video itself (unless their editors were just weird with their order of operations) uh yeah sorry this took literally three days to upload.
me: oh god i hope im not saying anything too crazy on my blog since i know the lltbp actors could see it :(
charlotte kelso in the draag national auxiliary band group chat: lol check this out *link to a fic where sylvia forces mev to fuck the gentleman puppet*
tucker rule: 👍 react
Frankie Y is a killer guy @poisonpluskerosene - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
