i always feel like a poser when i say one of my favorite mcr songs is cancer and not a clip of ray and gerard moaning into the microphone from 202917174 bc
g. way x gender neutral reader headcanons. gerard can’t help but sneak a sniff of your panties, shirts, socks, anything. you’re like a drug to him. this contains smut and themes of stalking.
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basement!gerard who can’t help but walk too close to you only to take a whiff of that new perfume you sprayed.
basement!gerard who coaxes you into freshening up by taking a shower. he sneaks into the bathroom while you’re behind the curtain to snatch your panties you were too shy to let him see.
basement!gerard who rubs your panties all over his face. he’s not even breathing, sometimes. he brings the fabric down to his bulge to grind the cotton against his boxers.
basement!gerard who starts sneaking your clothes away each time you spend the night. you’re not even his friend, you’re there to spend time with mikey. you don’t suspect it much. their house is pretty messy.
basement!gerard who is overbearingly touchy with you, passing it off as looking like the cool older brother.
basement!gerard who shamelessly sneaks photos of you when you’re asleep. he carefully opens the door to mikey’s room before panning a camera down to your body. or, he lingers there just to hear you breathe.
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basement!gerard who won’t take confrontation from anybody. mikey caught him one morning with lace panties stuffed into his pockets, barely visible. upset, mikey knew it had to have been yours.
basement!gerard who is threatening to beat mikey up if he says anything. mikey doesn’t want to remember about the bruises on his body from the last time.
basement!gerard who forces mikey to do his dirty work for him. to sneak closer photos of you when the two of them are alone in his room studying, talking, and playing games.
basement!gerard who can’t help it one day and pulls you in for too long of a hug. he stinks, it’s hard for you to move out of it. gerard is nestling his nose against the nape of your neck. your stomach feels funny.
basement!gerard who has a collection of everything from you. either strands of your hair, panties, shirts, bras, and countless photos and videos of you for him to look back at.
basement!gerard who forces mikey to secretly record a video of the both if you having sex. all so he can watch the footage back and listen to your moans. he tells mikey to not make a sound prior to each recording.
Imma be a little controversial on main perhaps and say — I don’t understand why it’s common headcanon/fanon to make Party Poison a really cold, detached asshole when there’s almost no canon basis for his actual personality.
I’m not saying people shouldn’t write what they like, mind you. But the fact that I almost never see a different depiction of Party is strange IMO. It’s the extreme bias toward writing him that way that puzzles me.
The only thing we genuinely know about the guy outside of his appearance is that he willingly sacrificed himself to save the girl — and I guess if you want to infer things from the music videos/the song "Party Poison" that he’s probably somewhat of an adrenaline junkie/partier. We know almost nothing else.
I don’t know why almost every single fic writer reads him as cold or completely distant or almost mean/aggressive and portrays him that way.
Anyway, that’s on my agenda for whenever my mind decides to work again. I’m going to write the version of Party I almost never see.
“Stop moving!” You say sternly, squinting as you lean in to your boyfriend’s face. “And stop looking so miserable, Megs, try looking like you want to be here.”
You’re sat cross-legged, across from each other on the comfy sheets of your dorm bed. The pillows sink into the duvet like they’re melting, the plushness of your blankets enveloping Megumi’s feet as he shuffles around aimlessly.
“I don’t.” He deadpans, warily eyeing up the silvery metallic of the eyelash curler in your palm. “This is-“ he sighs, “-so stupid.”
“It’s not!” You huff, pressing a hand down ont his shoulder to keep him in place. The shirt creases under your grip as the curler squeaks in your other set of fingers. “You just have such pretty eyelashes- I mean seriously, some girls would kill for a set like yours.”
You'd really noticed how gorgeous his eyelashes were a few days ago, when you'd been watching something stupid on his laptop late at night. Curled up besides him, the half-light illuminated his face- and the long, dark lashes spanning his waterline. You'd almost gasped- they were perfect.
Megumi stares at you as you brush a few dark strands of hair away from his eyes. “Right. And what does that do?”
“It curls them- like, upwards. You’ll look nice, I promise.”
Megumi looks from the eyelash curler balanced in your hand to your face, and his heart betrays him. He knows you’re only joking, but you look so genuinely sad it makes him give in, cursing himself internally for being so utterly swayed to your every whim.
“…okay.”
You grin happily, and it makes his lips twitch into a small smile. “Yay! Okay, just- just sit there…” you trail off, brows furrowing a little in concentration as you near his right eye.
The curler clips around his already long eyelashes, the metal pushing the little lines of black up and up until they’re perfectly aligned. Megumi’s eyes water, unused to the sensation, but he pushes through it for your silly enjoyment.
“Why-“ you say quietly, hand still brushing his hair back, “-are you looking at me like that.”
His face scrunches instinctually as you withdraw the curler, eyes glimmering not with water but with something oddly soft that makes your stomach flutter. “Like what?”
You stare at him, just a little flustered as you raise the curler to his left eye. “…nothing.”
When it’s done, you finally sit back to admire your handiwork, and almost gasp. “They’re perfect!” You squeal jealously, “I can’t believe this. They’re better than mine.”
Two identically curved lines of eyelashes border your boyfriend’s eyes, flicking poised and dark, positioned like they’re used to the shaping. He looks pretty; a slight dusting of rosiness across his usually pale face, released hair falling across his forehead.
A hand reaches out to cup your cheek, thumbing just underneath your eye. The romance of it all almost throws you off balance, blinking owlishly at him as he brushes hair from your face.
“I think yours are very pretty, too.” He mutters. It’s awkward, but for Megumi it’s true- he does think your eyelashes are nice, he likes the way they flutter when you curl up next to him and the way they cast tiny shadows on your face. Megumi notices more and more little things like that about your face the longer you date, he realises; picking up on the tilt of your lips when you're trying not to laugh and the way your nose scrunches sometimes when you're concentrating.
“I’m wearing mascara, Megs.” You say, leaning into his gentle touch. “Yours are just naturally nice.”
He shrugs, face warming. “I don’t care. They- you- look nice without it, too.”
You blink. “Well, in that case… can I?” Your hand is already reaching towards your vanity, fingers curling around a patterned tube.
titsay
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