MCR Imagines And Oneshots

♡;What a surprise | G.W.

(A/n)

Requested by RockerChic4Life

I'm taking a break from the Run, run series, so y'all will suffer until the second part of the Ending 1. Jk.

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I can't fucking wait to be out of here. The number of times in which I happen to get caught is pretty low, but they still happen and they're the most annoying thing that can happen. Sitting in this goddamn cell for the next fourteen hours isn't an appealing thought at all and, with the way people have been looking at me, I presume my displeasure is more than clear. Why in the fuck do they have to keep staring, anyways?

My attention is pulled away from my thoughts when the door to my cell is being open. It makes me furrow my eyebrows – something I regret when the pain irradiates from my probably black eye – to see what's happening and things cannot be more disappointing.

A few grumbles come from the four as they are slowly thrown into the cell according to the order they're uncuffed in, ruining my privilege of having the space all to myself. The officer says something rude as walking away, but I don't pay attention to it, more worried about keeping my head low to hide my identity and taking care of my reputation.

It doesn't work.

"Hey, doll, what happened to you?" Gerard speaks up first.

The four of the idiots are all breathless and smelling like sweat, smoke and alcohol. What a surprise.

I don't reply.

"He's talking to you, y'know," Frank adds after a moment, with an audible grin, and has me wanting to get rid of that damn lip ring with a single punch. "Wait, hold on... Gee, isn't it that girl from the flower store? Goody two shoes?" All of them fall quiet for a moment before I can hear a few gasps along with muttering before Frank chuckles amused.

"Oh my God, you mean (l/n)?" Gerard asks in the same disbelief. "Wow, out of all the places...!"

"Fuck off, Way!" I groan in an attempt of making them drop the subject and it's a task that demonstrates itself to be harder than it seemed.

We live in a small city, so news fly fast. While I am known for being, I quote, a goody two shoes – something I carry with pride because of the privileges a reputation can bring you –, the four are known for the exact opposite. The police department must be tired of having to go after them every few days and these cells must feel like a second home to them. Summing it all up, be seen here is bad and be seen here talking with them is even worse.

"Aw, no need to get all annoyed," Gerard mocks with a pout, slouching over the seat as he looks at me, arms crossed over his chest. Ray and Mikey talk with each other by now while Frank... whatever his pea brain does. "What did you get yourself into?"

"Nothing. Nothing I'm telling you." I look away, not wanting to take this much further. These are going to be some long fourteen hours.

"And did nothing get you bloody fists, bloody lip and..." He leans a bit forward, eyes narrowed. "Is that a black eye? Wow, who'd imagine! The (y/n) in a cell of the police department after having most likely gotten in a hell of a fight!" He laughs, clapping sarcastically.

"So funny, so ironic, isn't it?" I smirk as looking at him, deciding it's not useful anymore to try to keep that façade. "And what are the four dumbasses here for, huh? How come you've been caught by the police so many times and can't happen to be more careful? Can't even, dunno, bribe an officer to leave you guys alone for once? That's pathetic!"