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For: @novacorpse

Request: Angsty Plot; where the reader gets hurt at a show in the pit and Frank walks by the medics after the show and kinda takes care of her? I'm a slut for angsty imagines so you can honestly do what you want with this

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED.

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You should've known that getting barricade at a My Chemical Romance concert meant that you would eventually get caught in the middle of a mosh pit, and that if it didn't happen at either of the first two shows you'd attended, it was bound to happen at the third.

Nevertheless, you clung to the hope that you were somehow immune to getting caught in one, and so proceeded to enjoy the stellar performance that the band was putting on without any worry.

That's why when you found yourself suddenly being yanked off of your feet and harshly tossed into a hoard of raucous audience members, your immediate response was to scream.

The piercing sound bounced off of the eardrums of the guy that had lifted you up, causing him to drop you out of pure shock. His arms had been the only things supporting you while your body was suspended above the heads of the thoughtless strangers so when he released you, your body was left to drop in between the mass of bodies, bumping into heads and elbows with a force so great that it knocked the wind out of you.

Your body met the concrete floor with a sickening thud and you gasped for air as your hands instinctively flew to cover your head and protect yourself from the crowd partaking in the pit. You took a moment to catch your breath before trying to stand back up, but the swaying bodies stopped you from doing so, leaving you trapped on the cold floor; all you could do was try and scream for someone to help you up, so that's what you did.

By some miracle, a security team came rushing over not too long after, and they helped you up onto your feet, ushering you towards backstage. Your feet were untrustworthy and your walk was not at all steady, resulting in the two men essentially carrying you to the medics.

They carefully set you down in a steel fold-up chair and told you that the medics would be there to attend to you shortly. The room was spinning, and you brought a tentative hand up to your head to try and relieve the throbbing in it, mumbling something that sounded like a thank you to your escorts.

"Hi, I'm Don," the medic introduced himself with a small smile as he joined you, reaching into his kit to retrieve a small flashlight, "Let's check out the damage, yeah?"

He turned the light on and shined it directly into your eyes, asking you to follow its movements; you recoiled at the initial burst of bright light, and blinked a few times before following Don's instructions, following the flashlight as he slowly moved it side to side.

"Alright," he mumbled, returning the light to the kit before carefully taking your head and lifting your chin up. He rotated your head carefully, noting damages.

A sharp pain shot through your cranium all of a sudden, causing you to groan in pain.

"It hurts?" Don questioned and you nodded. He hummed and cautiously pressed two fingers to a spot close to the back of your skull. "There?"

You nodded as vigorously as you could with the pain attacking you and Don pulled away.

"Okay, just relax for a minute."

He turned his attention to his supplies, rummaging through his kits in search of something while you drew in a breath to calm yourself and closed your eyes in an attempt to minimise your pain.

You heard footsteps approaching and even without opening your eyes, you could tell that their owner had stopped next to the medic. They shared hushed words and while you tried your hardest to listen in, you could only make out certain phrases.

"...she okay?"

"...pit must've been pretty rough... mild concussion."

"Fuck..."

"...lucky...could've been worse."

The footsteps were approaching you now, and you sensed whomever it was standing in front of you. Your guess as to who it was was as good as any; it honestly could have been anyone. But when they spoke, you didn't need to open your eyes to know who it was.

"Hey there, princess," Frank addressed you with a gentle voice, as if he was worried that speaking too loudly would injure you even more, "How're you feeling?"

You struggled to lift your heavy eyelids, but managed to open them enough so that the guitarist's face was visible to you. You tried to verbalise a response, but it only came out as a groan.

Frank smiled sympathetically before gathering another fold-up chair and seating himself on it, next to you. If the throbbing in your head wasn't being a consistent nuisance, you were certain that being in such close proximity to your favourite band member would've sent you straight into cardiac arrest.

"Not that great, huh? Look, I'm really sorry about what happened to you," Frank nervously flicked his tongue against his lip ring and gazed at you in sincerity, "But if it makes you feel any better, I got that jackass that grabbed you tossed outta the venue."

His voice rose a little towards the end of his sentence; he hoped that his action of ejecting your assailant from the concert would bring you some kind of comfort, albeit not physically.

It did, and you mustered all the energy you could in order to summon a smile, which you delivered to him; he returned the gesture, perking up a little.

"You... saw what happened?" your voice came out shaky and quiet.

He nodded in confirmation. "Yeah, I'm the one who called the security. I saw you fall and when you didn't get up I got a bit worried."

His confession made your chest tighten – in the best way.

"That's... sweet. You're sweet," you murmured, fighting to keep your eyes open.

He smiled at you, but his expression quickly turned to one of alarm when you started swaying. "Woah." He reached out to steady you before you could slip off of the chair. "Easy."

All you could offer was a couple of incoherent babbles, and Frank rubbed your back in a show of comfort. You tensed up momentarily at the newfound physical contact, causing the guitarist to retract his hand immediately.

"Sorry," he apologised, awkwardly shifting in the chair, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"No," you argued, "you didn't. I just... wasn't expecting it; that's all."

He nodded, relaxing his tensed up shoulders as Don came back over; he was carrying some gauze to tape you up with. The medic moved to attend to you, but Frank interjected, speaking in a hushed tone.

"I'll do that." He took the supplies from Don.

The medic was a little apprehensive at first, but he noted that Frank had had a somewhat calming effect on you, so he conceded. And besides, going against the requests of one of the stars would likely not end very well.

Frank worked carefully as he measured a long enough piece to wrap around your head, and then gently held your face with one hand as the other started wrapping it around the necessary area.

His fingers accidently brushed against a sensitive spot in a hasty manner, earning a hiss from you. Your hand instinctively moved to grip his and pull it away from your head, and he apologised profusely, capturing your fingers with his and squeezing lightly.

Once the gauze was wrapped tightly enough, the pressure it applied to your skull removed the throbbing in your cranium, and you were able to function much better.

"Thank you, Frank," you breathed, squeezing his hand to express your gratitude.

He nodded but frowned at you in worry. "Is there anything else I can do for you? Get you something to eat or drink? Did you come here with anyone? Should I call for them?"

His level of genuine concern astounded you, and all you wanted to do was smile.

"No, I came alone," you shook your head. "My brother dropped me off."

"You want me to call him for you?"

You nodded – since you were now able to without feeling like your head would split in two – and fished your phone out of the front pocket of your jeans, handing it other to Frank once you'd gotten it in your grasp.

"He's speed-dial number one," you informed. The guitarist nodded and followed through with making the call.

You studied the band member as he had the conversation with your brother, now fully able to appreciate the fact that you were interacting with one of your favourite band members. Frank was exceptionally gorgeous in photographs, but he was somehow even better in person. It was unnerving, really.

Before your thoughts could fully drift towards the R-rated end of the spectrum, Frank ended the call and turned to you with another one of those beautiful smiles.

"He said he's already on his way. Should be here soon." He waved your phone as he spoke before handing it back to you. You deposited it back into the safety of your pocket.

"Thank you again; you didn't have to do all of this," you scoffed softly.

"Hey, don't mention it," he whispered, reseating himself next to you. He reached up to run his hand through the colourful part of your hair. "I dig the hair, by the way."

You chuckled and copied his action, causing his hair to stand up. "Thanks."

Usually, he would've had a breakdown over his hair being messed up but for some reason, looking at you, he didn't care. He smiled fondly at you, and you smiled back before averting your gaze out of embarrassment, your smile starting to fade.

Frank's grin left almost as soon as yours did. "I'm sorry you had such a shitty experience tonight."

You snapped your head to look at him so fast, the throbbing returned for a good few moments. "What are you talking about? I mean, yeah, sure, getting concussed was not fun – but you..." you drew in a breath, gathering your confidence and shrugging, "made it all better."

The guitarist's heart thumped in his chest. "I'm glad that I could. And that tonight didn't put you off of seeing us again."

You blew a raspberry. "Believe me, nothing would put me off seeing you."

Frank's eyebrows arched and he smirked at you, and only then did you realise the ambiguity of your comment.

You panicked and tried to rectify yourself. "I mean-"

The sound of his laugh cut you off. "I know what you meant, princess."

Frank was kind enough to wait with you until your brother arrived to pick you up, despite mountains of protests from various members of the crew and from the band's management team. Needless to say, you enjoyed spending time with him much more than you had enjoyed the show, so when the time came for you to leave, your stomach dropped in disappointment.

But that disappointment was short-lived.

Frank opened the passenger door of the car for you, but he stopped you before you could get in.

"Do me a favour?" You raised your eyebrows in expectation and he continued. "Call me tomorrow to let me know how you're feeling."

You could've sworn that your heart was about to leap out of your chest with the way it was hammering against your ribcage. Did he seriously ask you to call him?

"I..." you stammered, so many thoughts running errant in your mind, "I don't have your number."

"Yeah, you do," he smirked cheekily as he ushered you into the car, "I put it in earlier."

You laughed in disbelief, while he simply grinned at you and shut the car door. Right before your brother drove off, he tapped his finger against the window to get your attention, and spoke again.

"Don't forget, alright? I'll be waiting for that call, princess."

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Thank you for reading x