✓ ❘ 𝐄𝐌𝐎 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 ─ 𝐌𝐂𝐑. 𝐏!𝐀𝐓𝐃. 𝐅𝐎𝐁. 𝐓Ø𝐏.

Needles. (Gerard Way x Reader)

"I want my sketch book and art supplies to go to Frank and my comic collection to Ray, 'cause I know he'll take care of it."

"Uh huh."

"And then my records should go to Mikey, and-"

Gerard stopped mid-sentence when he looked down at where your hand was soothingly rubbing over his one and looked back at you with a frown.

"Why aren't you writing this down?" he demanded.

"Two reasons," you retorted with a smug look, "One, I have an exceptional memory and two, you'll have plenty of time to write your own will because you're not dying today."

He scoffed, squirming in his seat. "You don't know that."

"Yes, actually, I do." He gave you an uneasy look and started rubbing his forearm, causing you to sigh and roll your eyes before giving him a supporting kiss. "You'll be fine, baby. It's just a tattoo."

"It's not 'just a tattoo'! You know what comes with tattoos? Needles, (Y/N). NEEDLES!" he exclaimed, eyes widening as the anxiety welling up inside of him reached its peak and his breathing became dangerously ragged.

His sudden outburst stunned both you and the tattooist, and the two of you shared a look before you shook your head lightly and gripped your rattling boyfriend's hand.

"This was your choice, Gerard. No one forced you to be here; you made the decision on your own."

"Yeah, but that's why I have you," he whined, rolling his head around listlessly, "You're supposed to stop me from making such reckless decisions."

"It wasn't reckless," you corrected, "You were debating over it for a month."

He bared his teeth at you. "Not. Helping."

"Gee, you'll be fine. It's not as bad as it seems; I promise. Besides, you're only getting a tiny one – it'll be over in no time."

Right as you finished speaking, the artist came over with the sterilisation supplies and began to prep an exceedingly jumpy Gerard's skin for the etching.

Your boyfriend whimpered a little when the cool wipe touched his skin, the reality of what he was about to do finally settling in and almost pushing him over the edge; he bit his bottom lip hard and gripped your hand deathly tight as you whispered calming things in his ear.

A few minutes later and the machine was whirring as the artist readjusted their grip and got into position. The first time the needle pricked Gerard's tender skin was the worst of it; it felt foreign and it stung and the singer wanted nothing more than to just slip off of the chair and make a bolt for the exit. But he held on, keeping a strong grip on your hand all the way through.

You made sure to keep him distracted for the duration of the procedure, chatting to him about random things and holding his gaze so that he wouldn't look at the needle. About halfway through, you asked him how he was feeling.

"Pretty good," he said proudly, a smile gracing his beautiful face as he chuckled, "I mean, this isn't anywhere near as bad as I thought it'd be. I mean, I don't even know why I was-"

Somewhere during the start of that last sentence, Gerard had broken eye contact with you and made the mistake of looking over at the tattooist and their work. When he caught sight of the needle, well...

"Oh, my god," you gasped, pushing your arms outwards just in time to catch your boyfriend's limp body before he hit the floor face-first.

For a moment, no one moved. You stayed cradling Gerard and the artist held the needle mid-air and pulled his mouth to the side. Eventually, he broke the silence.

"Should we stop and call it a day or...?"

"No," you breathed, huffing a bit as you tried to manoeuvre Gerard's body back into the chair. When you managed to get him in the proper position, you brushed the hair out of your face, threw your hands up and sighed. "Just continue and finish it now. Lord knows we're not gonna get him back inside a tattoo parlour ever again."

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x