Gerard way Imagines

you belong to me I believe

Gerard has never been the type of man a girl would automatically fall for. Sure, his looks were absolutely stunning, but no one really knew what he was like when he was off stage. He was childish, aggressive and even a little perverted sometimes. Bit he was also overly protective and loved to show what he owned. He loved you. Well, that's what you told yourself.

Y/N was never the type of girl that would just hook up with anyone. She was always what you could call 'untouchable', her expression barely changing throughout the day. Everyone noticed her, yet no one knew her. So it was a surprise for everyone when she moved in with Gerard, and hearing him calling her pet names and defending her from everyone and everything made it seem almost surreal for everyone. But you both somehow made it work.

The door opened and closed rather harshly, waking you up instantly. "S-Sorry." Was being heard, only mumbled as if you're not supposed to be hearing it. You rubbed your eyes and looked at the clock. It was deep in the night, and dark, so you only saw his shadow. You went up, walking after him into the bathroom, gasping. The skin around his eye was red and starting to bruise, he had a butterfly stitch on his eyebrow, and his knuckles were bloody and scraped up. "W-what happened gee..?" You asked with careful words, you knew his temper and didn't want to push an answer out of him. He could easily kill you, you've already seen what he's capable of. "Nothing." Was the short answer. You knew he didn't want to talk, so you retreated, but what happened next left you shocked.

"Are you scared of me?"

You blinked. Were you? You thought about it, and looked down at the floor with shame. You actually were.
"Y/n."
You hesitantly looked up, but you didn't dare to say anything. Both answers could make him snap right now, one for being a lie, and the other one for being the truth. So you kept quiet. He took a step towards you and you backed away. Slowly he walked further, but you were not going to let him get any closer. You ran downstairs, grabbing your jacket, as he suddenly spun you around and smashed his hands against the wall at either side of your head, making you shriek at the loud bang on the wall, so much force that even a picture swung a little. A short moment of silence was present, but he broke it with his raspy and deep voice.
"So you really are."
You had your eyes closed tightly, awaiting any reaction, holding back tears. But suddenly his head fell onto your shoulder, resting there, and his hands slipped off the wall, just falling next to either of his sides. He shook, he was shivering, and suddenly a sob escaped him, and your eyes widened. He was- crying?
"I'm sorry."
You tried to look at him, but that wasn't possible in the position he was in. You could just feel his tears on your naked shoulder, hear his angry sobs and his sniffling, and watch his hands that he'd curled into fists, making his freshly scraped knuckles bleed again. Your small hands held onto those fists, and he flinched at the touch a little, as if he wasn't prepared for that. His hands slowly uncurled, slowly his body wasn't as tense as before, and you softly placed his hands on your waist, even though he shook his head. "I'm gonna break you." He said muffled and interrupted by himself. "I'm gonna hurt you, I know it." You shook your head. Suddenly you had thought about everything. And hurting you was not something he would do. "You won't." You said softly, and even though he'd been against the touch, his hands were now placed against your ribs, careful, scared. Suddenly they caught you in an embrace so loving it made you dizzy, and you both slid down the wall to sit. He had his head against your chest, your heartbeat calming him down, making his tears stop, helping him scare away his own fear of himself. You gently brushed your hand through his hair while softly whispering sweet nothings into his ear, the other hand curled over his back. "I'm sorry." He said again.
"What're you sorry for gee?" He slowly sat up in front of you, taking your hands in his. He always smiled at that picture, your fragile an pale small hands in his, those scraped up and scarred ones, clothed in leather gloves. His fingers traced over the small silver ring he once gave you, nothing expensive, but you refused to take it off. "Everything." You smiled at him, taking his face in your hands. "If there's something to be sorry for, than its me not telling you how much I thank you." He blinked, confused. "Gee, I was a prostitute when we met. You took me in, you gave me a home, hope, a purpose, and overall-" you wiped away a tear that still managed to escape his hazel eyes-" someone to love." He copied your actions, holding your, in his eyes perfect and absolutely inhumanly beautiful, face in his hands. "You're worth so much y/n. I don't deserve you." You stood up, holding a hand out for him to take. "You know that's not true. I belong to you. I believe in that." And he smiled and got up, not taking your hand. You shrieked up again, but this time out of surprise. He'd just taken you into his arms, carrying you bridal style up to your shared bedroom.

And as you both laid down, your naked body's tangled, just existing and breathing, you heard him say something that made you smile, even though you were already half asleep. "You belong to me, I believe."