MCR Imagines And Oneshots

♪;Stretchmarks | G.W.

(A/n)

Requested by anon :)

I'm sorry I took (and am taking) too long, my mental health went to shit and then I got writing block then hyperfixated on Gotham and I guess this oneshot was the one I wrote the fastest in a long time

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Gerard could catch the small flinch once his fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt and he moved away despite you didn't seem to want it, eyeing you questioningly. It wasn't even your first time together, so he couldn't find the reason of the hesitance and didn't seem like he was going any further without an explanation. The atmosphere got weirdly thin with it, losing the intensity it had gained with all the hot and urgent kisses pressed to your neck – which left behind a few marks – and with your hands going everywhere.

"Something wrong?" Gerard asked softly, bringing a hand to your thigh and rubbing it with his thumb in a more of comforting manner.

You just couldn't answer at first; it was pathetic. In an attempt of easing your mind, part of your attention averted to observing the various posters hanging on the wall of his room among a few drawings before finally speaking up, some of the sudden embarrassment having ceased. "I'll only do it with my shirt on," you justified, using a tone that Gerard didn't usually argue with.

Of course, the answer, however, wasn't enough for him.

"Why?" He seemed genuinely concerned, trying to think about a reason for it. "C'mon, there's nothing I haven't seen yet, love, you don't need to be like this," he reassured, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips.

It wasn't like you didn't want to tell him about it, not wanting to leave him in the angst of wondering the answer, but all these thoughts along with the feelings clenching around your throat made it difficult to even open your mouth and explain what bothered you. Gerard seemed to understand the struggle and didn't pressure you, waiting patiently as tracing patterns absentmindedly on your thigh.

"I... You know, why can't we just... keep it on?" You asked after a long moment in silence, glancing at him.

"Are you sure? You know I won't mind about anything," Gerard insisted, mostly because this had stopped being an issue after some time. "You can tell me anything. What's bothering you this time?" His eyes found yours, holding your gaze with a calming look. "I just want to make sure you're not overthinking anything," he smiled, taking your hand in his and squeezing it. "Please, love. If you tell me it's nothing much, I'll trust you, but if not..."

A nod came from you in response as you thought for another moment, a quiet exhale going past your nose. "Like, I gained weight recently, you could notice..."

"Well, you know that's not a problem," he said with a confused hint still there.

"I mean," you furrowed your eyebrows in frustration, pausing. "That made a few stretch marks show up, y'know. And they're- They don't look nice at all, you wouldn't like to see that, so, please, let me keep the shirt on."

The words were barely audible, in a way Gerard had to really pay attention to it while you spoke. It took a moment for the look of realization to take over his features, substituting the concerned and confused one, before they softened and he smiled.

"That isn't a problem either. Like if it'd make you any less beautiful," he said in such a confident and certain tone that it was difficult to even think about arguing. You scoffed, about to stutter something in return, but he continued without letting you do so. "Stretchmarks aren't ugly or gross or anything, they're normal and I'd never shame you because of it or anything," Gerard said with a smile, eyes practically demanding an answer from you among all the warmth they held.