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sideblogformindtrash · 3 years

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CW: Pet whump; dehumanization; conditioned mindset; classism; some nasty coping mechanism; food whump/forced diet; restrains;

...Sweet Pea stops banging on the door when it actually hears someone coming. He has been screaming until his voice becomes hoarse, from the second he was shoved in there, alternating between begging and demanding to be let go.

But now that someone is actually coming… He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to see them, especially not that man. Young Master was bad enough - Stealing him from Master, making him shut down and forcing him in the car… - but that man, that man was worse. There was something wrong about him.

It wasn’t just that he was a peasant, someone who should never have a pet like him, and that was daring to take him from Master, no. That man was off. Sweet Pea pressed his heels on the floor when he was dragged, making the man fight him every step of the way, especially after Young Master stopped at a little sign saying ‘No Farlan Zone’. But that’s when he saw it, as the man frowned as he struggled, revealing a roll of sharp teeth, eyes that are a little just too green, a faint smell he cannot place. Wrong, wrong, wrong, every fiber of his body screams.

...He lost it for a second, and the man made a big progress on pushing him towards the house. He went back to fighting even more - he hated it here, he wanted to go back, how dare these people take him? These fucking peasants, living like a fucking ogre in the middle of a forest…

Those thoughts kept the fear at bay, a placid, but fragile, surface of anger that kept all of his panic hidden.

Still, the man managed to drag him out inside the house, where he saw someone familiar… He recognized that pet. He did. He saw pictures, the pitch perfect hair, falling in white curls around the freckled face… A good pet, like him, who once belonged to his Master. And what not… if he dug further up on his memory… He could remember him from the school. The prodigy of the musical side.

He fell limply. These was… where the pets Gerard discarded went to, then? But… Master didn’t say anything about sending him away, and he would, right? Was this… a test? or maybe he just didn’t care enough… after all, it was his son who took him. He would steal from his father, would he?

The pet made some weird gestures, Sweet Pea didn’t understand why. But they meant something to the man dragging him.

“...This is Sweet Pea. He will… stay with us for a while”

The man tries to appear cheerfully, and the pet gestures again.

“...Because he isn’t happy about it. It’s like a sleepover, except he has no choice” He narrows his eyes “No, of course I didn’t know. I would have told you and Blue about it”

...Blue. So there is one more here, and that is pet name. He whimpers, and the man’s grip softens a little, so he takes that chance and pushes him off to run for the door, but it has been locked.

No, no, no, no please, open up... But it was in vain. As the man tried to approach him - with scissors, fucking scirssors - he curled away in fear. He couldn’t let himself be damaged - he was Master’s property, not for anyone to hurt. He didn’t believe it when the man said it was just for the retrains… But he waited until his feet were freed, and he dragged the first thing he could get ahold of, clumsily throwing a chair at him. He didn’t quite hit, since his hands were till tied up, but he got some time to run through the house.

In the living room, he found himself face to face with the other pet - must have been a Mutt of the worst kind, his face awfully scarred. And Sweet Pea screamed, terrified of that happening to him, as well.

He didn’t realize he was led right onto a trap, as he ran upstairs and hid in a closet. He stays there… For a while. When he finally gets the courage to go out again, when the house seems silent and dark… He tries to escape again. But the bedroom door was locked. He noticed some food and water had been left for him. He didn’t dare touch any of the food. It was nothing he was allowed to eat, anyway. He took only some small water sips, afraid it was drugged.

He didn’t feel anything different, but didn’t want to risk his luck. He tried to sleep in the closet but it was small and cramped, even though it felt safe. He… decided to sleep on the bed. He was a pet, he wasn’t supposed to. But then again, this wasn’t his Master so why should he care?

...He… Stopped near the window. The curtains were open, for once. He didn’t resist peeking outside…

The stars were beautiful, as always. Even more so here, surrounded by a sea of trees and alway from the city lights that surrounded Master’s house. And they blinked in the distance, carrying the weight of something he had lost and forgotten.

That’s when he finally allowed himself to cry, sobs echoing and getting lost in the silence of the woods. He cried until he felt empty… And almost in peace.

He curled up and on a blanket, not really caring about punishments anymore, and fell asleep.

He woke up to a soft morning light, and a knock on his door. It made him jump awake, grabbing the closest thing he could find - a bedside lamp - to defend himself with. In truth, it was just to appease his anxiety. He wouldn’t dare hit a person, no matter how lowly and filth.

“...Morning, dear” The man said, with a soft smile. Sweet Pea flinched, backing away against the wall. He had another tray, and smiled sadly when he saw Sweet Pea hadn’t touched the other one.

“...I… Want to apologize for yesterday. I was not prepared for this at all… But I guess is no excuse” He says, setting the trail down “...I guess we started on the wrong foot. But I think we should try and talk this through. I’m-”

“Take me back” He demanded, with as much authority as he dared to use, shaking like a leaf as he held the object. If the man was afraid, he didn’t show. He probably looked pathetic like this “Take me back, take me back to Master”

“...I’m sorry, love. We can’t do this now. It’s important-”

“Don’t call me that, don’t call me love” He shouted, and to his surprise... the man… nodded.

“I apologize. A habit I guess, since my boys like it. But I’ll watch out for it” He smiled still, disturbing and creepy and awful and, and, he hated here, hate here.

“Take me back. Take me back, I don’t belong here. I’m Master’s property, please, please”

“...Sweet Pea… I know this is scary… But trust me, we are trying to help you-”

“No, no, no!” He shouts, throwing the lamp away. It breaks on the side, and he regrets it immediately, as now he didn’t have a lamp anymore and there was glass on the floor. A very quick flash passes his mind, a time where he was forced to dance over the broken shards. He pushes it away, under the surface of anger “Shut up, shut up, take me back”

...The man still didn’t seem bothered, but he hated that more. He was being bad, so bad, and the man had that calm, mocking, scary fucking face. He clenched his fists.

“I don’t want to be here” He screams, knowing pets don’t have wants “I’m not going to obey you. I’m not a pet for someone like you. I’m from the best academy, I’ve been trained for years, I’m not going to just bend down a for a simpleton such as you”

...And the man lifted an eyebrow.

“...That’s… A lot of classism for someone who is technically under me” He seems… disappointed.

...And Sweet Pea gasps, opens his mouth… But what can he possibly say? He is lower than the lowest of men. Yet he is better than the other pets, made to serve men like him. The man shrugged, tilting his head a little.

“Sorry. Don’t worry too much about it. It’s all man-made bullshit anyway. Want to eat something? You must be hungry after yesterday”

He shook his head, crossing his arm and looking away, back at the window. Is good because… Because to him it looks like he is being dismissive. He is actually looking out the window. Sunlight, sunlight. He hopes he isn’t locked away from it.

“Master would never allow me to eat that”

“Well he isn’t here is he?” He doesn’t look, but feels the smile on his voice. No, no good, no good. It 's a test. He knows this game.

“...Are you proposing me to be bad? That’s not gonna happen, I will not fall for your tricks, peasant”

He looks this time, and again, he gets eyebrows raised and a shrug.

“Well… Can you tell me what you can eat? I can try to adapt it for you. Haru is a really good cook, I’m sure he can pull it off”

...This… This made his guard crumble, just a little, as he let his arms down, frowning. Was he… really going to adjust things this easily? It… It should be a test, right? Maybe this was all a test. Master testing him to see if he would remain loyal and good? But… Gerard had never pulled anything like that before. He was usually very clear about his rules. And if it was a test… why would the man give up that easily? Why would he make any change to accomodate a pet?

He bit his lips, he felt blood.

“Hm… Ahnh… Okay” He whispers, going through the list of foods. The man smiles, and sits on the bed beside him. At a space he feels… safe, at least. As safe as you can be on a room with someone you don’t trust.

“...No sugar? Like none? Ever?”

“...He gave me cake!” Sweet Pea smiled proudly “...Once”

The man’s expression is… Sad?

“Well, for now, I’ll get you some fruits so you don’t go hungry. I’ll do what’s possible to follow that… But, just so you know… There is no rule about that, here. You are allowed to eat whatever you want” He then smiles, chuckles “...Well, Blue isn’t allowed coffee. Not that he listens”

Blue. He only saw that pet for a second, staring at him from behind the sofa. The image still haunts him.

“...Is that why he has those scars?” Sweet Pea hugs himself, slightly more confident after… After the man seemed at least willing to respect Master’s Gerard’s decisions a little.

“...No. Blue has a messy past. He was owned by some really cruel people”

“He must have been a really bad pet to end up like that”

...He catches a brief, brief sigh from him, before he puts back the soft expression.

“...Nah. He is a sweetheart. Those were only bad people”

“Bullshit” Sweet Pea whispers, still hugging himself. The man decides to drop that subject.

“Hm, I… I’m not confident about letting you out of the house yet, so… I’ll allow you out of the bedroom when I’m home, but when I’m not, I’ll have to keep you locked for now. I hope that’s fine. Again, just for now” ...The man seems nervous “But it’s a matter of your own safety. Temporary.”

“...Bullshit. Do what you want” he looks away and refuses to answer anything else. He knows he is a prisoner here. He has no intention of even leaving his room, unless it is for escape. At least there is a window.

#pet whump #whump #Sweet Pea the whumpee #orfeu and haru #blue needs a tag #whorefeu

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melwilson · 3 years

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Lowkey Being Adopted by Chris Argent Includes...

i love chris argent and his character development was immaculate (btw this after allison and his wife died and he is no longer a hunter) this is my favorite imagine i’ve written so far. i hope you all like it as much as i do!!

my favorite imagine i’ve written! click to read !!

he found you all alone in the woods in southern california surrounded by your dead pack

you didn’t trust him at first, which he understood considering he was an argent, but you went with him anyways bc you were now an omega

he took you back to beacon hills where you met scott and the rest of the pack

they accepted you quickly

he enrolled you into bhhs under his name even though he wasn’t your technical legal guardian

he let you make the guest bedroom your own and gave you money to go shopping w lydia

you noticed that the door to the room next to yours was never opened and christ never entered it...ever

the first couple of weeks were a little awkward for the both of you

chris wasn’t used to living w someone again

you weren’t used to him

but eventually the both of you got used to each other

you guys eat breakfast and dinner together everyday

and he drives you to school (usually stiles or lydia will take you home)

he taught you how to use a gun

and let you have one of his

“i have claws and fangs...why do i need a gun?”

“sometimes it’s best if people don’t know you’re a werewolf.”

the two of you weren’t really adamant on physical touch

but one day you came home upset and ran right into chris’ arms surprising the both of you

he didn’t pull away until you did and didn’t supress the small smile on his face

“are you okay?”

“yeah, i just needed...a hug.”

that was a big step in your relationship

you guys didn’t hug all the time, but they were definitely more frequent

one night, on a full moon, chris randomly asked what color your eyes were

(you had never changed around him or any of the pack)

to say he was surprised when he saw they were red was an understatement

“why didn’t you tell me you were an alpha?”

“why didn’t you tell me you had a daughter?”

“who told you i had a daughter?”

“stiles.”

he was very distraught after you had gotten injured by berserker

like he almost lost his mind

he was by your side 24/7 since you were taking longer to heal

he didn’t want to lose anyone else

especially not you...he had become very fond you

“i thought i told you not to follow me.”

“...you know i don’t listen very well. besides, you were about to get your stomach slashed open. i can heal...you not so much. just admit it, it’s better me than you.”

he was very protective

as were you

you were the only person who ever called him chris

you were one of the only who could make him laugh

one night at dinner, he told you about his complicated family

he even showed you pictures of allison

“she’s beautiful.”

the next night, you told him about your pack

“how’d you become and alpha?”

“my mom was dying when i got back to the woods that night. she forced me to end it...so i could have her power.”

it was a very vulnerable two days for you two

but you got closer

movie night you fell asleep with your head on his shoulder

and so you guys slept on the couch bc chris didn’t wanna wake you

he showed you the argent armory

and showed you how to stamp a bullet

“why the lightning bolt?”

“it was my pack symbol.”

no one ever messed w you

and no one ever messed w chris

no human at least

for your birthday he bought you a leather jacket to match his

and a car

but you liked the leather jacket more. it was more personal to you

however, you weren’t complaining about the car either

fighting the dread doctors together

you guys make a very dangerous team

you went w him when he went to get gerard out of whatever nursing home he was rotting in

you always carried a gun around gerard bc chris didn’t want him finding out you were supernatural

“then why didn’t we just leave him? he’s not gonna help us catch the beast.”

“we don’t have a choice, y/n.”

however, gerard found out about your secret when you ran out of bullets...

“you’ve been harboring an alpha werewolf, chris?”

“touch her and i’ll kill you.”

“i could kill him myself. i think that’s a valid solution.”

you stayed as far away from him as possible

you nearly lost your mind when chris had the supernatural toxins in him after being cut by the whip of a ghost rider

“y/n, you gotta stay calm. if not for me then for him.”

“melissa, he’s dying.”

“he’s not gonna die here. not like this.”

you also almost killed everyone left in beacon hills when chris was taken into the wild hunt

after you got him back you hugged him for literally ever

you and scott noticed how close he had gotten w melissa

...they were suspiciously close

you graduated from bhhs w the rest of the gang

chris radiated ~proud guardian energy~

you then decided that college wasn’t for you. wherever chris was, so were you

and since most of the supernaturals were leaving, you figured liam, mason, and corey needed someone to stick around

again chris w the ~proud guardian energy~

and then monroe showed up

and so did gerard *cue the eyerolls*

“i can’t believe that’s your father.”

“it’s not like i had my say.”

you watched as all of beacon hills turned on you and your friends

chris rarily let you out of his sight

you went w him to find derek and ended up being shot by kate

“your whole family is a bunch psycopaths.”

“they wouldn’t have been my first option.”

he sent you away w scott the night all the supernaturals were supposed to leave

except you guys didn’t leave and he was very upset w you

“i thought i made myself clear. you’re not supposed to be here.”

“what part of ‘i don’t back down from a fight’ do you not understand?”

that was a very heated argument, but then chris realized he wouldn’t have left either and you realized that he only wanted to keep you safe...so all is good

he pulled a gun out on gerard for you...like he was actually going to shoot him

a very long hug after monroe and the hunters fled from beacon hills

a few months later it was chris’ birthday and you wanted to get him the best gift

“adoption papers? you really want me to adopt you?”

“i mean...only if you’ll take me.”

he gave you the biggest hug ever and cried a little bit and you did too (though both if you would never admit it)

“i love you.”

“i love you too, dad. happy birthday.”

you guys got matching tattoos w the date that he found you in roman numerals bc that was a life changing day for the both of you

you ended up changing your last name

“y/n y/l/n-argent has a nice ring to it.”

#chris argent #allison argent #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf imagines #derek hale imagine #derek hale #stiles stilinski #scott mccall #liam dunbar #isaac lahey #theo raeken #teen wolf fandom #malia hale #peter hale #jr bourne

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jerakeenc · 3 years

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many kidfics i’ve read and loved

look who’s reccing a million year old fics now. kidfics, very many. posted to dw for snowflake, thought I’d copy here as well. will be reading most, if not all. if you don’t hear from me again, this list is the culprit.

101 Ways To Get Lucky (In Love) by lenore

18,200 words | SGA, McKay/Sheppard

Rodney McKay is rich, gorgeous and at the top of his game—except someone just moved the goalposts! Now Rodney realizes he is sorely lacking the one status symbol that everybody seems to have…the perfect family. Rodney needs help, so he hires a relationship coach. Single-dad John Sheppard may be an expert, but not when it comes to his own relationships! And every day he spends with Rodney makes him wish that he could be the one to fill the vacancy in Rodney's life…

A Beautiful Lifetime Event by astolat

29,000 words | SGA, McKay/Sheppard

Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans.

An Earlier Heaven by regann

67,400 words | X-Men, Erik/Charles

In the wake of Cuba, Charles and his students are ready to pick up the pieces and work toward achieving Charles's dream of a safe haven for young mutants. Those plans, however, take a surprising turn thanks to a very unexpected complication. As he slowly builds a future for his students and for his child, Charles struggles with the loss of Erik and the secrets he's willing to keep to protect his family, but those strides are shattered when Erik makes a startling reappearance into his life. [mpreg, kidfic, ensemble]

And everything nice by noelia_g

30,200 words | Social Network, Mark/Eduardo

The one where Mark somehow ends up with a child and of course needs a nanny for the amount of time he spends at the office. Only problem is a string of nannys keep trying to get into his pants for what he assumes is his money. Cue Mark's assistant hiring a male nanny, enter Eduardo.

asking to be born by longtime_lurker

26,500 words | Bandom, Pete/Patrick

"Don't worry, it's probably just his big gay freakout," Andy yells cheerfully and unhelpfully into Patrick's ear as they're hustling Pete over to the nearest private clinic.

Better with You by harriet_vane

38,100 words | 1D, Liam/Louis

Based on this prompt at the kinkmeme:

Single parent and solo artist Liam Payne hires Louis Tomlinson to be a full time nanny to his four year old son Sammy. Although the two men don't quite click from the start it's love at first sight between Sammy and Louis. Eventually Louis and Liam warm up to each other and get on like a house on fire, in fact the two become a little too fond of each other.

I refuse to apologize for how sweet this ended up, okay? It's kidfic, I am forever writing kidfic, and this one is even kid-fic-ier than usual.

Can't Get Enough of You (Baby) by eternalbreath

22,100 words | Inception, Arthur/Eames

Eames vanishes from dreamshare and Arthur goes a little crazy looking for him until he stumbles across him -- with a baby.

Chelsea, Chelsea, I Believe by empathapathique

300,800 words | Hockey, Kane/Toews

Patrick meets a girl his rookie year.

Don't You Shake Alone by dsudis

62,180 words | Generation Kill, Brad/Nate

Nate looked exactly like Brad always pictured him: exhausted in the full life-in-a-combat-zone sense of the word.

Dude, what's a bulwark? by kellifer_fic

12,150 words | Teen Wolf, Derek/Stiles

Beacon Hills is the kind of small town where everybody knows everybody, and what everybody knows is that surly diner owner Derek Hale and free spirited single dad Stiles Stilinski have been in love with each other for years. If only they knew it too.

Every Other Beautiful World by rhiannonhero

43,280 words | SGA, McKay/Sheppard

Some things are unexpected but still inevitable in every beautiful world.

Forever, Now by harriet_vane

227,100 words | Bandom, Frank/Gerard, Jon/Spencer, Brendon/Ryan, Brian/Greta

Brian rescues kid!Gerard and Mikey from life on the streets, and eventually everyone finds a family.

here comes the sun by oflights

56,600 words | Social Network, Mark/Eduardo

This is a story about growing up, sad 70's rock songs, too much hair gel, "Maxwell's Silver Hammer", a baby with curly hair, a Geiger counter, a dog that isn't named Max, the Chicken Dance, Cheerios, pepper-spray, drugs, sex, and a stuffed chicken named Cluckerberg, nicknamed Cluck. or: Mark raises Sean's accidental baby, and I write the fluffiest thing ever.

I Got a Love (That Keeps Me Waiting) by svmadelyn

163,700 words | Hockey, Kane/Toews

There's a lot of different ways this summary could go, like:

Patrick Kane gets more than a gold medal in Sochi.

Or, the classic: It's too late to pull out now.

Or: Patrick Kane continues to thrive in high pressure situations.

Or: Patrick Kane gets knocked up, goes to White Castle, and finds love, not necessarily in that order.

But, ultimately, all that really matters is this: Patrick Kane is keeping his baby.

I Would Be by cathalin

20,290 words | American Idol, Kris/Adam

AU. Adam and Kris meet a few years down the road, when down-on-his-luck Kris and his young daughter Katherine show up to rent a room from Adam, who never made it to an Idol audition.

Ice Ice Baby by uraneia

51,340 words | Hockey, Claude/Danny

A gold medal isn't the only souvenir Claude brings home from Prague.

OR: The one where Claude gets drunk, gets pregnant, and gets convinced to move in with Danny, whom he's been secretly in love with for years. What could possibly go wrong?

my heart is bigger than the distance in between us by estrella30

15,000 words | 1D, Nick/Harry

Nick chuckles quietly but grabs the remote and follows Emma, Aimee coming up close behind him. It’s indeed Harry on the telly, singing along to his latest radio hit and smiling slowly into the camera far too seductively for half eight on a Friday morning, if you ask Nick. He presses the volume just in time to catch the crowd’s roaring applause and see the pink flush Harry’s cheeks. Nick watches him duck his head as he gives a small wave to the audience, and it hits Nick that Harry is still the most humble and appreciative billionaire Nick’s ever met.

Good job, popstar, Nick thinks to himself.

or, Nick is a single dad and Harry is his bff and it's a bunch of years into the future and they fall in love

Once Upon a Furry Octopus by skoosiepants

11,270 words | SGA, McKay/Sheppard

He was an intelligent, intuitive pet, but he wasn’t going to start sniffing out ZPMs or hidden Ancient weaponry or detailed instructions on how to kill a Wraith with a common household item. A pen, for instance.

Reconcilable Differences by astolat

40,000 words | Smallville, Clark/Lex

Luthor Family Values.

Shelter by harriet_vane

63,500 words | Social Network, Jesse/Andrew

From the kinkmeme prompt: Some sort of AU vaguely based on Shelter! For whatever reason, Jesse has to take care of Hallie and give up his dream of being an actor. He ends up working in a dead end job when former, now successful friend (Andrew) returns home. They fall in love, etc, only Jesse can't go away with him because he has a responsibility to his family. CUE ANGST.

Show Me The Way Back Home Baby by stilinskisparkles

15,000 words | Teen Wolf, Derek/Stiles

In which Lydia and Jackson produce the world's cutest baby, and the pack goes crazy-- the good kind of crazy. Except for Derek, who is afraid of tiny cute babies and Stiles who plans to be the best Uncle ever. Even if Danny called dibs on Godfather.

Skybird by windsweptfic

33,785 words | Inception/White Collar, Arthur/Eames

Arthur and Eames adopt a kid and raise that kid into Neal Caffrey.

Small Cells and Fibers by sevenfists

7,830 words | Bandom, Frank/Gerard

Tuesdays were finger-painting days. Frank made sure to wear his oldest pair of jeans, because even with his full-length apron and his constant reminders that paint belongs on paper and not on clothing, he always ended up with tiny, multi-colored handprints all over his clothes. There wasn't a thing he could do about it, so he just wore pants from 1995.

Small Primes and Square Roots by liviapenn

12,500 words | SGA, McKay/Sheppard

"I hope you picked someone really intelligent, otherwise it seems like it would be kind of a waste. Of incubation time, if nothing else."

So Wise We Grow by deastar

81,250 words | Star Trek Reboot, Kirk/Spock

"Commander Spock, we have located your son," the Vulcan lady on the screen says, which would be great, except Jim can tell by the look on Spock's face that he's never heard of this kid before in his life. "If it is expedient, the child will be sent to join you on the Enterprise within the week."

Something Better by lovelypoet

18,350 words | Bandom, Frank/Gerard

"We all have to take jobs we don't like sometimes, you know?"

The Next Time You Say Forever by Thistlerose

27,300 words | Star Trek Reboot, Kirk/McCoy

After his ex-wife's death, McCoy is forced to leave the Enterprise to look after his teenage daughter. Under normal circumstances, this would be the end of…whatever it is he has with Kirk that's more than friendship, but less than what he wants. But the universe has other intentions.

The Reeducation of Misters Kane and Toews by jezziejay

15,900 words | Hockey, Kane/Toews

In which Kaner sort of has a kid, and Mr. Toews doesn't know which of them is the bigger brat.

AU featuring teacher!Jon and hockey-player!Kaner. With bonus 'Hawks characters, love notes, pasta jewelry, Be Better Pizzas, pirouettes, a sprinke of angst and guest appearance by Derek Jeter.

The Road Delivered Us Home by keelywolfe

117,430 words | Hobbit, Thorin/Bilbo

In the years since Bilbo left Erebor, he has lost his respectability, gained a nephew, and gotten on with life at Bag End.

He'd left aside adventure for the comforts and peace of his little Hobbit hole, and for the love of a child who needed him. Though perhaps, adventures can yet find him.

This Story Was Brought to You by Our Sponsors by scaramouche

29,500 words | Supernatural, Dean/Castiel

Dean's post-apocalyptic life is a friggin' soap opera. Romance! Angst! Separations! Reunions! Pizza Dinners! A Child Dean Never Knew He Had! It's all very dramatic.

throw a little sparkle all over it by etben

26,000 words | Bandom, Frank/Gerard

"Hey, Ma," Mikey says. "No, everything's fine—well, I mean, Gerard accidentally adopted a baby—no, he's changing her now, he can't talk."

Tiny Houses by ohmyjetsabel

77,130 words | Teen Wolf, Derek/Stiles

"So this is what Stiles does. He lies in Scott’s bed and waits for Melissa to say she’s found someone to get it out of him, to cure him of the wrongness and the bad, and he dreams.

God, he dreams.

He dreams of fire and swollen bellies and that scene in Alien, of giving birth to jackals through his urethra, the whole horrific nine yards. His head is a terrible place to be, he can’t imagine his stomach is much better, why anyone would want to put a thing inside of it."

Tip, Slide, Tumble by j_s_cavalcante

42,900 words | due South, Fraser/Kowalski

Ray knew when he found the body in the alley it was going to change someone's life. He just didn't expect that life would be his.

Turn by saras_girl

306,000 words | Harry Potter, Harry/Draco

One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

Unless it's lies or it's love by sprat

25,300 words | American Idol, Kris/Adam

In which Adam (a rock star) meets Kris (a single dad) at an Emergency Room in Arkansas at the end of a particularly shitty night. Also features: San Francisco, fresh starts, baked goods, OCs, cameo appearances by Matt and Megan, pirates, monsters with garbage heads and a recording studio.

What Child Is This by lamardeuse

30,150 words | Merlin, Arthur/Merlin

A modern AU with Merlin, Arthur, mayhem, a baby and a jingly elf hat.

What to Expect by arsenic

29,200 words | Bandom, Bob/Mikey

Mikey has his band, and his little girl, and that's enough. Really, it is.

Winter's Children by neery

66,890 words | Marvel, Bucky/Steve

When their attempts to recreate the super soldier serum failed, Hydra started trying to breed Captain America clones from his genetic samples. Unfortunately, the serum's effects aren't passed down genetically, so instead of an army of tiny Captain Americas, they get a bunch of tow-headed, asthmatic, allergic, immuno-compromised little Steves.

And then the Winter Soldier stumbles across Hydra's failed experiment...

With Six You Get Eggroll by speranza

31,000 words | due South, Fraser/Kowalski

"Kick 'em In The Head: A Guide To Parenting."

ETA: Bonus! Because I apparently lost my bookmark for this one but have the memory of an elephant for kidfic, so it came to me eventually. :D

A Farm in Iowa 'Verse by sheafrotherdon

166,000 words | SGA, McKay/Sheppard

John inherits a farm, Rodney ends up entirely out of his element, and there is much ado about baseball.

#kidfic #recs

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rpf-bat · 4 years

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Scream Out ‘What Will Save Us?’

Pairing: Frank Iero x Reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: Written for Gothtober 2020, Day 15. Prompt: “Catharsis.”

Your band just broke up, and you’re trying to force yourself be okay with that. But, when you visit Frank, at his home in New Jersey, he advises you to be honest with your feelings. You find that he has some things to get off his chest, too.

It had been six months now, since My Chemical Romance broke up. You hadn’t done much since then, except move back to your house in New Jersey, and….sit there. For the last eleven years of your life, you’d drummed for a living, and life had moved to a frenetic pace. There was always another city to travel to, another show to play. But, now? Life was suddenly at a standstill.

You didn’t have to do anything for a living now, you supposed. The royalties alone, could probably sustain you, for years to come. Perhaps a millionaire like yourself, had no right to complain. Bullets You would, after all, kill to have Current You’s problems.

But, having lived at both extremes, you found that being functionally homeless, in a dirty van with your four best friends, was more enjoyable, than being all alone, in this spotless mansion. You hadn’t joined My Chemical Romance to make money. There were other things that mattered more - the joy of spending time with friends, who slowly became more like family. The creative fulfillment, of writing a piece of music, and then having ten thousand fans sing along with the tune. These were the things, that made your life meaningful.

These were the things, that you had now lost.

The Way brothers - who, up until recently, had felt like your own brothers - were still residing in Los Angeles. Ray, too, had stayed on the West Coast. You hadn’t seen them since the decision was made, to disband. You weren’t sure that you even wanted to.

But Frank - good, old, loyal Frank, who had known you longer than any of them - was merely a few miles down the road. Perhaps today was a good day to pay him a visit.

You called him on your cell, and he answered the phone, almost immediately. Like you, he probably had nothing better to do.

“Hey, Y/N,” Frank said in a tired voice. “How are you doing?”

“Alright,” you shrugged. “Just bored, I guess. How are you?”

“Not so good,” Frank confessed. “I’ve been having, like, the worst stomachaches.”

“Oh, no,” you said sympathetically. “Do you want me to bring you some medicine?”

“The doc says I have a bacterial overgrowth of the small intestine,” Frank explained.

“What does that mean?” you asked.

“It means your drug-store Pepto ain’t gonna do shit for me,” Frank chuckled bitterly. “I got prescription pills for it, but it still hurts like a bitch. Some company might take my mind off the pain, though.”

“So...I can come over?” you asked hopefully.

“Please do,” Frank agreed. “It’ll at least give me a reason, to get out of bed.”

You chose not to mention that, at two o’clock in the afternoon, you had yet to find a reason to get out of bed yourself.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Frank’s house was nowhere near the main road. You had to drive through nearly half a mile of trees, just to reach his front door. He had selected this property partially because he loved nature - and partially because hated people.

You supposed you couldn’t blame him, for trying to avoid having nosy fans show up on his doorstep. The only person who always seemed welcome on his doorstep, no matter the hour, was you.

You found him sitting on his front steps, his acoustic guitar in his hands. The melody he was playing drifted over the air, as you got out of the car, and approached him.

“Is that...Disenchanted?” you recognized instantly.

“,,,..Yeah,” Frank sighed, his inked hands ceasing their strumming. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi, Frankie,” you frowned. “What made you decide to play that one today?”

“I don’t know,” Frank said sadly. “Doesn’t it feel strange to you? Knowing that we’re never going to play that song onstage again?”

“Or any of them,” you noted. “If I had known that set at Bamboozle would be the last gig we ever played, I would have tried harder, to make it count.”

“You and me both,” Frank said wistfully. “But, anyway….it’s a nice day. Do you want to take a walk with me?”

“Sure,” you nodded, extending your hand to help him up. “As long as you’re feeling up to it.”

“I’ll be fine,” Frank assured you, groaning as he stood. “C’mon.”

You followed him, around the house, through his backyard, and from there, into the woods, that sat behind his home. The trees were beginning to lose their leaves, and the sky has turned overcast, and grey. Summer, you supposed, was just another thing that wouldn’t last.

“Careful,” Frank warned, “there’s a brook up ahead.”

You saw that was what he said was true. The small body of water separated the hill from the valley, in the same way that a garotte wire separated a head from a neck.

“Take my hand,” Frank offered. “I don’t want you to fall.”

You found yourself blushing, as his calloused fingers, intertwined with your own. He pulled you up onto a rock, in the center of the brook.

“Are we going to have to jump?” you guessed.

“Yeah, but don’t worry,” Frank said softly, “I got you.”

He leapt from the rock, to the other side of the brook. Still holding hands, you leapt with him. Just as he’d promised, you made it to the other side safely.

“It’s just a little further now,” Frank assured you.

“What is?” you wondered.

“You’ll see,” he replied cryptically. He could have let go of your hand, but instead, he kept it held tightly in his own. You didn’t mind.

“....Whoa,” you gasped, as you realized, that you’d arrived at your destination. You were at the top of a cliff. From here, you could see the whole city, stretched out before you.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Frank admired.

“Yes!” you gasped. “Thank you for bringing up here! The view was totally worth the hike.”

“I’m lucky as hell, to have a hidden gem like this, on my property,” Frank confessed. “I like to come up here sometimes, when I need to think.”

“....What have you been thinking about lately?” you asked, sitting down on a boulder.

“What happened with the band, of course,” Frank admitted, sitting down beside you. “I just….I don’t know. Gerard’s decision felt so sudden. It was like having the wind knocked out of me.”

“Yeah,” you recalled. “It was like….it wasn’t fun anymore to him, so he just….dropped it. Like it was nothing.”

“I’m not gonna pretend, that being in My Chem, was sunshine and roses all the time,” Frank acknowledged. “Sometimes, touring sucked.”

“It did,” you admitted. “I hated the early bus calls, and the jet lag, that never seemed to go away. But, I don’t know. It was worth it, to go through all that, if it meant I would end my day, on a stage with you.”

“I guess it wasn’t worth it to him anymore,” Frank frowned. “But, what can you do? You can’t continue a band, without its frontman.”

“I guess our time was just up,” you shrugged. “All we can do, is move on.”

“I know it was messing up his mental health, trying to write the new record,” Frank said, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “It’s not right for us to ask him to keep doing something that’s hurting him.”

“You’re right,” you sighed. “It’s not fair, to risk causing him another relapse, or something, just because we thought the album could’ve gone somewhere.”

“But now, you and me?” Frank grumbled, lighting a cigarette, and taking a drag. “We’re not gonna go fucking anywhere.”

“We’re right back where we started,” you realized. “Stuck in the same little town in New Jersey, where it all began.”

You and Frank, had been in another local band, called Pencey Prep. That band had broken up, and then Gerard, had asked you two, to join My Chemical Romance. Even before you’d become a member, you’d known just from listening to the demos, that this band would be something special. They’d captivated every soul, in the shitty dive bar, where you’d gone to see them play.

After you and Frank joined their ranks, things began to pick up speed so quickly. Local bars, turned into clubs on the other side of the state. And then you’d attracted the interest of a major label. And then, the next thing you knew, you were playing in fucking Japan. Clubs turned into arenas. Obscurity turned into infamy. You’d done things, you never thought, you would have an opportunity to do. It was a wild ride. And it was….over now.

“It makes me want to scream sometimes,” you said honestly.

“So, do it,” Frank said, exhaling smoke.

“....What?” you blinked, staring back at him.

“Go on and scream,” he suggested. “I mean, we’re in the middle of nowhere. Nobody’s going to hear you, except for me.”

“You’re serious?” you gaped.

“Yeah,” Frank nodded. “Honestly? I think it would be cathartic.”

He had a point - you’d been trying to hold a lot of emotions inside you, since everything went down. Maybe what you really needed, was to let them out.

You went and stood, on the edge of the cliff, and looked out, onto the horizon. You took a deep breath, and tilted your head back.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!” you cried.

You turned back, and saw that Frank was laughing.

“....Did that feel good?” he grinned.

“....Honestly, yeah, it did!” you admitted. It felt even better, to see a smile on his face, for the first time today.

“You should just...feel what you feel, Y/N,” Frank advised. “You say we’re supposed to move on, and maybe that’s the narrative the fans want to hear. Like, they’re sad that they’ll never hear their favorite band live again. And it makes them feel better, to think, well, the band members did this, because it’s what made them the happiest.”

“But, we don’t feel happy,” you argued. “At least, not all of us do.”

“What do you feel?” Frank asked seriously.

“I feel….lost,” you described. “Like, I don’t know what my next move is supposed to be. The whole world knew me as My Chemical Romance’s drummer, for pretty much all of my twenties. Now, I’m hitting my thirties and...I don’t know who I am. I don’t know where we go from here.”

“Well, I know that I want to keep making music,” Frank decided. “Even if nobody else wants to hear it, I’ll play it for myself.”

“I want to hear it,” you said seriously. “Did you write something recently?”

“Yeah,” Frank said shyly, stubbing his cigarette out into the dirt. “I actually did start writing a song, the other day.”

“Play it for me,” you pleaded.

“I don’t know,” Frank blushed. “I wrote some lyrics, but….you know I don’t have the gift for singing, that Gerard does.”

“You sang in Pencey,” you reminded him.

“Yeah, that was twelve years ago!” Frank scoffed. “Who knows if I even remember how?”

“I know you can do it,” you encouraged him.

“The lyrics, they’re not all that nice,” Frank warned. “I didn’t write them to be radio friendly. I just wrote them, because I needed to get the thoughts out of my head.”

“You needed your catharsis,” you nodded understandingly.

“Yeah,” Frank sighed. “But….if you really want to hear it, Y/N, I’ll play it for you.”

He took out his guitar, and set it on his lap. Hesitant fingers plucked the strings. You listened, with rapt attention, as he began to sing:

Some things change but they don't get better

I'm so sick and so tired of trying to tell them that

I'll never do it, no I'll never make it alone

But pay no mind, it fades in time

Don't we all?

Someone I love threw me away

But I don't mind, no I don't mind at all

“That’s bullshit, Frank,” you interrupted. “You do mind.”

“.....Of course I fucking mind,” Frank snapped. He looked up from his guitar, and you realized, that he had tears in his eyes.

You moved over to where he sat, and pulled him into a hug.

“It’s okay,” you told him gently.

“It’s not,” Frank shook his head. “I gave my blood, sweat, and tears….my heart and my soul, to that band. I thought you and I were going to be in My Chemical Romance for the rest of our lives.”

“What, like Mick Jagger?” you tried to smile. “Rocking out, even in his sixties?”

“I don’t know,” Frank said, burying his face in his hands. “Maybe I’m the stupid one, for thinking that something like that, could last forever.”

“You’re not stupid,” you said softly. “The truth is….I wanted it to last forever, too. It was the best thing I’d ever done. And now, I don’t know what else I can do with the rest of my life, that could even come close.”

“If I decided to play that song, in front of other people, someday,” Frank asked, “would you play the drums for me?”

“Of course,” you promised. “Frank, I’d jump at the chance to get onstage with you again. You should know that.”

“I feel like I don’t know anything anymore!” Frank said vulnerably. “Everything I thought I could count on, is slipping through my fingers. I feel lost. Just like you said. And I’m aching all the time, Y/N. What if you’re the next thing, that I lose?”

“I’ll never leave you, Frank,” you vowed. “It’s been you and me, from the very beginning. I couldn’t imagine a life that didn’t have you in it….in one way, or another.”

“You met me when you joined Pencey. But now, for the first time in my entire life, you’re not my band mate anymore,” Frank choked. “So…what am I to you?”

“You’re my best friend,” you whispered, pulling him close. “And you could be more than that, if you wanted to.”

“Wh-What are you saying?” Frank gasped.

“Frank….,” you took a deep breath. “The truth is, that I always wanted you. I never told you how I felt, because I thought, if we got into a relationship, and broke up, it would destroy our ability to work together. But….you’re right. We’re not bandmates anymore. So, I have nothing left to lose. I...I love you.”

“You….love me?” Frank repeated, eyes wide.

“Yes.” You put it all out there. “Yes, Frank, you’re the one I love. And if you would have me, I swear to you, I would never throw you away.”

Frank surged forward, grabbing you by the collar, and pulling you in for a passionate kiss. Your startled mouth was suddenly full of his tongue. It felt so good.

“....Frankie!” you gasped, pulling away. “You...you actually want me back?”

“Of course I do,” Frank breathed. “It drives me absolutely fucking crazy, that we’ve both been burying our feelings this whole time, to protect a career, that no longer exists.”

“...Then at least I still have you,” you whispered, and pulled him in again. He tasted like smoke and desperation.

His body pressed against yours as he kissed you harder, pushing you down, against the hard rocks. His hands found the buttons of your blouse.

“....Frank,” you stopped him. “We should go back down, to your house, if we’re going to do this.”

“You’re right,” he chuckled. “My bed is a lot softer.”

“Take me there,” you begged, laying your lips on him again.

“Oh,” Frank promised, “I’ll take you all night.”

#frank iero x reader #frank iero imagine #gothtober #band member reader

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wontshutup · 3 years

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Clossest thing to Family: March 27, 2019 (Intro)

This is an idea that was written first for shifting purposes and suddenly turned into a narrative so, it might be a little of a personal self-insert, however, I decided to give it a try as a Y/N fic and well, I hope you like it.

It takes place during the first season of the Umbrella academy, this one however is more like and introductory chapter.

It will contain spoiler as it tries to follow the show’s timeline, for obvious reasons some things will be changed to be able to introduce reader into it. I take no credit for the whole thing whatsoever, that one goes to Steve Blackman, Gerard Way and every brilliant mind included in the thought process to bring this amazing series to life.

Warnings: mild swearing, appart from that, I believe none.

English is not my first language, neither do I live in the USA, just in case there are a few things that might just feel a little out of the actual social context in the narrative. Also, the italics are meant to be thoughts, however it all is narrated in first person (your POV) so idk if that makes sense rn.

I had just made it up the stairs from the subway station, only to be met by the rather unwelcoming cold of the raindrops, the rain was quick to go from a light shower to a heavy pour. I pulled my scarf a little higher, trying to cover myself, and clutched my backpack as I ran to the nearest place I could shield myself from the rain. I rushed under a small tented window shop and dived my hand into my bag, rummaging my way inside it in search for my umbrella as fast as I could, I had to be fast, the weather kept on dropping and my immune system couldn’t afford a cold right now. Unfortunately, life had different plans from me today

"You've gotta be kidding me" I sighed out, scolding myself today of ALL days, really!?! With no other choice but to navigate my way as best I could to avoid getting wet, I made my way to where I was meant to go, my every muscle begging for a warm bath, but no time, the place was most likely closing any second now.

As I rushed to the small lab I felt the vapors that my body had generated by the long hours of training and the crowded subway starting to seep through my jacket at a worrying pace, threatening to leave me defenseless from the dropping temperature and raising the chances of catching a cold.

Reaching my destination, I pushed the door in a rush to get inside, the warmth from the heater spread through my cheeks giving a slight welcoming feeling for which I was very thankful.

"How can I help you?" asked the lady at the desk without even looking at me causing me to regret this stop already. I was taken off of what could've been a perfectly warm subway ride and a brief rush to catch the bus home, but nope, that was not it now.

"I came to pick up some sample results" still no attention from her, I let out a loud, dramatic sigh, now earning an annoyed look from her Geez and took out a receipt I had in my pocket "Here" I slapped it in her desk, maybe a tad bit harder than I had intended to. "Please?," I said giving her a forced smile to which she scoffed.

"Wait over there".

Oh, Diego, you owe me on this one...I really did not have time for this, I was already getting pretty late and the rain was not ceasing any second now. Then again, if we were counting on debts, this was nothing compared to the one I had with Diego. Besides it was only picking up a couple of blood test results or "pieces of evidence" as he likes to call them, no big deal, so I took a seat and embraced myself to warm up better.

I allowed myself to feel a little bit more relaxed inside the place, enjoying the sensation while it lasted before having to, once again, rush against the weather to get home.

There was almost no one in the waiting room, of course, it was too late now, the few faces there seemed equally as tired as I felt, and I got it, however, being here must be really important to be waiting almost at midnight, again, I got that too.

I grabbed a 2017 National Geographic that was laying on the center table and started reading, getting lost in the beautiful landscapes shown on each page, an announcement on the place's tv filled my ears, catching my attention.

"Breaking news, the world's most eccentric billionaire, traveler Sir. Reginald Hargreeves, better known as the founder of The Umbrella Academy has officially passed away today, stay with us for further detail." Diego.

Putting down the magazine I quickly grabbed my phone and dialed his number, no beep, immediate voicemail. "Shit" I whispered. I tried again but nothing, again, voicemail. My hands started to become a little shaky but thankfully I was brought out of my trance.

"Diego Hargreeves?" called out the lady from the desk, I had to pick up the results, bringing the attention of the few strangers there upon me. It is not me guys, of course, please look away. I noticed the secretary's face was softer now, not soft thought, pity was more like it. I hate pity.

"I'm sorry about your grandfather" Oh so that's why.

"He's not my-she raised her eyebrows expectantly.-ah, nevermind" and with that I grabbed the results and left as fast as I could, shoving the papers in my bag I started dialing again.

Does he know already? Voicemail. How will he take it? Machine. Is he even safe now? "This is Diego, you know what to do"

"Fuck!" I was done with this, every night the exact same thing.

I keep trying to reach him, deliver the announcement in a more personal way than the news on TV could, not only because I care about him, but because as volatile as he is, the man has no actual impulse control and clearly no regard for his safety, otherwise, he wouldn't go out every night to "be the hero", well, how about picking up for once Mr. Hargreeves?!

Diego had told me little bits about his life every once in a while, how he lived and trained as part of the Umbrella Academy, but always seemed to hold back, keeping things to himself, and even if he had clearly expressed at some point that his father "is (or at least was) a monster" he seemed to care deeply about his opinion (more than he would let be known), and honestly, I had no idea of how was he going to react to such news, and at this point, I decided not to care.

As I paced angrily towards....I didn't know where I was heading, I was so lost in my worries for the man that I hadn't noticed I made it way farther from the station.

“ACHOO” Oh no, that wasn't good. The one thing I was trying to avoid was catching up to me, I had to think fast...

Well, I was too tired now to go all the way back to the station, sit through another subway ride and wait for a bus that would take me home this time and under this weather, even if the rain had dialed down a little, the wind had become sharper, besides, the streets were getting darker and unsafer by the second, thus going back definitely wasn't the friendliest option. On another hand, I could stop a cab right now, and no, I am not crazy nor rich enough to pay for a ride all the way home, but I could take the money I have and in a matter of seconds be at the Hargreeves Manor just before I can actually catch a cold and hopefully get some rest? Besides, I had to meet them at some point, express my condolences to my mentor's family? Plus, knowing Diego, he is probably going to skip going back home and head there directly.

“ACHOO”,that sneeze shook my body to one conclussion. It is settled, this I will regret later.

I ran to the side of the street, cold hitting my face, but just in time a cab came by "Hey, taxi!".

"Where to?" Heart pounding in my chest I gave the driver the simple name.

"Hargreeves Manor" he looked at me stranged from the rearview mirror, almost as if he knew this was a bad idea, honestly I share the thought. He took a couple of seconds as if allowing me to reconsider, and so I did...

“ACHOO....Agh-Please go" and so he started the car.

Well, guess there is no turning back then, it is time to meet the Hargreeves....

#the umbrella academy #tua #the umbrella academy x reader #tua x reader #diego hargreeves #big bro diego x reader is my life fuel #tua diego #the hargreeves #tua s1 #the umbrella academy season 1 #we only see each other at weddings and funerals #five hargreeves x reader #maybe five x reader bc idk

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soccer-fanfiction · 3 years

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Parker Arranges A Funeral

Hey everyone, welcome back. This is my 7th story, featuring Scott Parker of Bournemouth (although in the story, he was still at Fulham). Fast Fernando, Esther Parks and Alicia Lowell are my OCs.

Leave comments!

IT was another normal Tuesday in London. Scott Parker had just woken up. It was a good day. He had sung in the shower, and nobody had interrupted. Unlike the day before, when Josh Maja had burst in. Parker had had to reach for what he called his “anti-public-nudity-machine”.

Which just happened to be a bath towel.

Now he was dressed and in the kitchen, sipping a steaming mug of coffee. Secretary Esther Parks walked into the kitchen. He had just hired her that week.

“Morning, Mr. Parker,” she said, reaching for the coffeemaker.

“G’morning,” he said. “Esther, I told you already. Just Scott.”

“Okay, ‘Just Scott’,” she said with a teasing tone. “Ready to make plans?”

“We’ll need it,” he said. “If we’re going to beat the drop, I have to have a plan for every possible situation. But I need to step out first.”

“You’re a top-flight manager, Scott.”

“Even top-flight managers need to get into nature.”

Parker stepped out the back door and drew a breath. He loved the outdoors. It wasn’t that Craven Cottage wasn’t cozy. Far from it. He loved every corner of that place like the stadium was himself. But the outdoors, with the trees and sky and birds, held a special appeal to him. He slipped his feet out of his shoes, digging his toes into the gravelly soil and grass. Tiny violets shyly peeked from the grass as, one foot after another traversed the lawn as he went over to a special place, one of joy…

It was Areola who came out. Alphonse Areola, with his goatee and purple shirt, discovered the manager in the yard. He was on his knees and mumbling something.

“What on Earth is going on?” said Areola.

“You wouldn’t know.”

Areola took a step back and surveyed the scene. Parker, phone in hand, was kneeling in front of a bare patch of land. In front of him was what seemed to be a mass of dried flowers. Instantly, Areola remembered…

“They’re your sunflowers, no?” he said. The responding nod was all Areola needed to know.

“Hello? Anybody home?” Areola called into the door of the Chelsea stadium, Stamford Bridge.

N'golo Kante popped his head out. “Eh? Alphonse! Long time, man!”

“It has,” said Areola with a smile. He hadn’t seen Kante since the international break.

“How’s life in ‘The Zone’?” Kante said, referring to the player’s common term for the dreaded 18th, 19th and 20th places.

“Not bad, actually. I kept a clean sheet last time out.”

“Oh, congratulations! I scored a goal.”

“If only I was that lucky.”

“You will--if you’re El Loco.”

“I’m not crazy, N'golo.”

“So what brings you to the Blues?” said Kante as the two Frenchmen walked through the main hall.

“Depends if you know about Parker’s flowers,” said Areola, “or not.”

“Eh, Parker?”

“Our coach.” The two stopped at a huge mural. Areola had never seen it before. In it, a bunch of guys were lifting up a big silver trophy.

“Who’s that?” said Areola.

“Oh, him? Just the greatest coach of all time.”

The two whipped their heads around. A man in a black suit stood at the other end of the hall, leaning against the wall.

“Lampard!” said Kante. “What are you doing here? I thought you left London!”

“Well, I did, after Mr. German stuck his nose here,” said Frank Lampard. He fingered the collar of his blue shirt. “But I still visit once in a while. And this is my favorite mural of O Especial, the Special One.”

Kante rolled his eyes. “Mourinho again, right?”

“You’ll never catch a break from him.” The Englishman shook his head. “By Jove, I’m in Birmingham the other Wednesday, chatting with John and who shows up? Mr. Alwaysright. He pops up when you least expect him. Me, John, Didier, Guilherme, Petr, Scott, Olivier, David-- you name it, he’s there, blasting ‘Park the Bus’ at full volume.”

“Could we back up to the Scott part?” said Areola. “What’s he got to do with Jose Mourinho?”

“He was his player, who else? Scott Parker. Only made a handful of caps. Now the chap’s over at Fulham FC and the coach. By Jove, he’s relegating ‘em faster than a shire horse on the Grand National Course.”

“So you can help me with his sunflowers,” said Areola, which was more of a question than a statement.

“Sunflowers?” said Kante. “What sunflowers?”

“Ah, yes, his sunflowers,” said Lampard. “What happened? Weeds? Pesticides? Global warming?”

“I haven’t a clue, Lampard,” said Areola. “But apparently they died this morning.”

“Parker will be gutted,” said Lampard, shaking his head. “Those were special flowers.”

“Why were they so special, Lampard?” asked the Philippinian goalkeeper.

Lampard rubbed his chin in thought. “Well…”

It was the 2003-2004 season, with Jose Mourinho as our coach for the first time. And it was February, three days before Valentine’s Day. We had just beaten Wartsmouth by two goals to nil. But it was a special day for Parker. He had scored one of those goals, his first goal for Chelsea, and he was in seventh heaven. Mourinho had come in just that moment with a gold purse. We all stiffened at his presence: me, John, Didier. We were trying not to break out into grins, for we all thought the purse was ours. It was the beauty of a purse: gold, with a red silk lining. But he passed all of us until he reached the back of the room, where Scott was.

“Scott Matthew Parker,” he had begun--and Scottie shivered, for nobody ever referred to him by his full name-- “I have something for you.”

Scott had sat up fast--Mourinho had never given him anything but a rollicking before.

“I got this bag of Canadian sunflower seeds from my wife last weekend,” he began with a hint of a smile. “Trouble was, I never was much of a gardener. But you never say no to Matilda, and these were 100% sustainable, non-GMO sunflower seeds. So I’ve been waiting to give these seeds to the next player to score his first goal for us. That, Scott, is you.”

He had dropped the seeds in Scott’s lap. And a smile grew on his face as he realized the seeds were his!

“Really?” he had said, dumbfounded. ‘Really and truly, Boss?”

“Really and truly, Scott,” Mourinho had said, “although, I have no idea what that means.”

“And so, Parker had planted the sunflowers outside Stamford Bridge,” said Lampard. “Wherever he went, so did the flowers. And I’m guessing that now their time has come. They were 16 years old.”

“But you should have seen him when he just discovered the dead sunflowers,” said Areola. “He just knelt there. It was almost like he couldn’t believe it himself.”

“Well,” said Kante, “he should be better in a couple hours. I mean, they’re just plants--” The Malian was cut off by a high-pitched sound.

“Eh?” said the three, running outside. What they heard was beyond their brain capacity: a slow, mournful tune.

“LIEBESTRAUM #3?” said Areola. “Who on Earth plays that?!”

At that moment, Kante spied a familiar face on the path. It was--

The one and only Antonio Conte.

“Hey, guys!” he called, striding up the drive. “What’s all the talk about sunflowers?”

“Parker’s died,” said Kante.

Conte shook his head. “A life so short...and so young, too...couldn’t reach the stars, like he planned.”

“Not Parker, his sunflowers,” said Areola. “They wilted this morning.”

“Oh--well, that’s a relief,” said Conte. “I thought Parker’s funeral was going on and the sunflowers were on his wreath. Always better to lose plants than a person.”

“Antonio Conte, where do you get such ideas?” Lampard laughed. “We were talking about nothing of the sort.”

“Well, if you listened to the music you’d think it was a funeral!” Conte protested. “Believe me, I know music. Liebenstraume #3 is one of the most sorrowful pieces of music ever. Franz List was disturbed, all right. Only place I’ve ever heard it was on Very Depressing Violin Songs.”

“Where on Earth do you hear that?” said Areola.

“Channel 8 on European Radio.”

“Well, wherever you heard it,” said Kante, rolling his eyes, “I hear that song and it’s coming straight from the general direction of the River Thames!”

Seventeen minutes later, a very round Areola stuck his head out of the blueberry-less blueberry bush he was attempting to hide in. There, where the old sunflower garden was, laid a casket!

“Are you sure I’m not right?” Conte whispered.

As soon as the words were off his lips, Parker solemnly strolled into the garden. He opened the casket and laid a wrapped bundle in it. He then closed it and was off as silently and glumly as he had come. As soon as he was gone, everybody surged towards the casket.

“Loved and Lost’,” Lampard read the label. “I haven’t a clue what he means by that.”

“Well,” said Areola, “whatever he laid to rest in there, wasn’t named. And it wouldn’t be in such an informal manner, either.”

At that moment, Kante spied Parker on the drive, this time carrying a large wreath of white and black roses. He was heading towards the garden.

“Scott!” said Lampard. “Where have you been, lad? You don’t talk much these days!”

The Fulham gaffer just stayed quiet. He laid the wreath on the casket, then wrapped his scarf around him.

“Then, come to think of it,” said Lampard, “he doesn’t talk much at all usually.”

“Just wait until you see his mouth,” Areola warned. “But no, Parker. Could I be so bold to ask you--what’s in the...casket?”

Parker bit his lip. He looked away, facing the blowing north wind. His tan scarf flapped in the gale.

“It’s--okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” said Kante, trying to be sensitive. “I mean…”

Parker sighed. He turned to face the foursome. His mouth was pressed shut. “Sunflower...sunflower is gone. My, my sun-sunfl-sunflower…” He turned his back on the group again.

Areola rolled his eyes. “Oh, great. Just great. Nice job, N'golo.”

Kante made another snap decision, as he was often called to do when with Gerard. “Okay, Emergency Guys’ Night, now,” he said. “Meet me in half an hour.”

“But then it’d only be eleven-thirty in the morning,” said Conte.

“Meet. Me. In. Half. An. Hour.”

When Kante spoke with punctuation for emphasis, nobody dared disobey him. So they all met at a nice cafe in Paris near the Eiffel Tower at exactly eleven-thirty for an emergency meeting.

Kante stood up on the table to start the meeting. “Fellows of Providence--”

“We’re in France, not Rhode Island,” Lampard protested.

“Fellows of Providence,” Kante commenced with a side glare at Lampard, “I have strong evidence to believe that something else is bothering the Fulham manager, Scott Parker.”

“Come on,” said Areola. “I know you’re practical, N'golo, but those flowers were special to him.”

“Look,” said Kante. “I know about sentimental value and stuff, but they’re flowers. They are flowers, sunflowers. You can get the seeds at any gardening store. Maybe he’d be a little wistful, but a coffin and wreath? Come on. Next thing you know he’s going to host a funeral.”

“Come on,” said Conte. “There is no way he could host a--”

At that moment, a blur whizzed in. In two seconds, Fast Fernando, the mailman, was standing in front of them, four white envelopes in hand.

“Here’s your mail, dudes!” said the eighty-four year old with a smart salute, and whizzed off.

Conte opened his envelope. His eyes scanned the letter enclosed, then his mouth dropped open. Areola did the same.

Kante looked up from his invitation. “I told you so,” he said. “Funeral I predicted and funeral we got. Invitations to one, anyways.”

“For a bunch of sunflowers.” Conte rolled his eyes. “You’re right, Kante. I admit it. We have to snap him out of this.”

“But this isn’t simple,” said Lampard. “This is like the whole Princess Diana business: mawkish sentimentality all over again.”

“Then,” said Kante, “we’ll have to go easy on him.”

That weekend wasn’t the most memorable one for anybody closely associated with Fulham. First it was another dour and lifeless draw, this time at Brighton, and then the sunflowers’ funeral.

Contrary to his attitude that Wednesday, Conte was now just a touch sympathetic for the opposite gaffer. He was the last one in the room left with Parker as the latter pulled on a stark black trench coat. Usually he rocked the color black, but today it just seemed to heighten his somber demeanor--so much that Conte wasn’t sure he’d last the whole funeral.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” said Conte.

“I have to,” said Parker. Another look away, then he buried his head in his scarf. “And if anybody, it should be me.”

Outside, two dozen people were waiting for the ceremony to begin. Among them were John Terry, Didier Drogba, Frank Lampard, and of course, Jose Mourinho.

You couldn’t get a break.

“Mysterious funeral, this,” said Mourinho. “Wonder why the coffin is so small.”

“There isn’t even a coffin,” said Areola. “That’s what confuses me.”

“Maybe,” said Lampard, “he had a private burial.”

“Before the funeral?” said Mourinho. “I don’t think so.”

Parker strode out of the stadium towards the altar. He turned to face the crowd, and it was obvious to even the usually flippant Mourinho that he was deeply sorrowed.

“The lad,” said Terry. “Never seen him like this.”

“No state for getting un-relegated,” said Mourinho, before Lampard elbowed him. “Hey, ow!”

“Shush!” Drogba hissed.

Parker shuffled a bunch of papers and cleared his throat before Contenuing. “Today we are gathered here for..a very special woman.”

“WOMAN!!!” everybody’s minds screamed at the same time. Their faces, though, expressed their shock--all but one. Conte just stayed with his eyes fixated on Parker. The younger man was obviously choked up, and trying to keep eye contact with the crowd was obviously getting harder for him. He shut his eyes, though, and went on.

“Alicia Lowell Westwood, age 31, faithfully remained at my side from Newcastle to West Ham to everywhere else. And when I came to Fulham, she remained my closest friend.” He closed the book.

If confusion was a tremble, Kante’s brain was undergoing an earthquake. “He never told us about a lady,” he protested. “Never, ever.”

“And to think it was the sunflowers,” said Areola. “You wouldn’t!”

They quieted down though, when they heard a screech.

“I’d like you to please quiet down, crowd,” said the manager. Conte was beginning to note the crack in the Brit’s voice, which had only gotten worse as the funeral had gone on. “And if you would...flip your programmes to Page 3, you will...find…that it is...time for the….tributaries…”

“It’s getting harder and harder for him to speak, huh?” said Lampard.

“I still think he’s overdoing it,” a cloy Mourinho replied, flipping his collar back and forth.

Parker took a long breath and sat down at the piano. His fingers were obviously more playful than his mood, tinkering with the keys until he had seemed to find something pleasing. The crowd was enjoying the simple, if somewhat melancholic, melody. And then the enjoyment when a squeak of a voice bounced from Parker’s throat. “When you’re in a storm/ Hold your head up high--”

“You’ll Never Walk Alone by Judy Garland?” said Areola. “That’s a famous song.”

“It’s supposed to be triumphant and consoling,” said Kante. “And yet Parker’s voice makes it sound so...sombre.”

“Walk on through the wind/ Walk on through the rain/” Parker’s voice was cracking more and more as his fingers flew over the keys in stark contrast. Conte looked on, shaking his head. That’s when a voice called out from the crowd.

“Scott!” Esther Parks climbed up on the stage. She was wearing a black suit, as always, but her face seemed especially concerned as she came to join him.

“I’ve come to join you for the final notes, Scott,” Conte heard her whisper. “In case you don’t make it.”

“I will,” he whispered. “But thank you.” The final chords struck. “Walk on, walk on/ With hope in your heart/ And you’ll never walk alone/ You’ll never walk alone…” That was all he could take. He rotated the seat away from the crowd, leaving Sec. Parks to send the crowd away. She immediately went over to Parker, who was pushing the piano in.

“This never really was about your sunflowers, right?” she said.

Parker looked up at Sec. Parks, and he sighed. The coach was obviously miserable. “No, it wasn’t,” he finally said. “You actually thought so?”

“I did,” said Sec. Parks. She shrugged. “And really, I thought you were overreacting. Kante told me and said to go easy on you until after the funeral.”

Parker looked like he wanted to protest, but he stood up and looked at Sec. Parks in the face. “You thought I was overreacting over the death of my ex-secretary?”

Sec. Parks’s jaw dropped. “Your ex-secretary? You mean you had one before me?”

“Yes, for a long time,” said Parker. “She was my best secretary, but nobody knew how it was. We were managing together since I was managing the under-18 squad in London. And last month, I asked her...if she would like to be my co-manager.”

“You did?” said Sec. Parks. “What did she say?”

“She said that she didn’t...she was moving away from me because she was getting married to some guy in Edinburgh. She was getting on the airplane that afternoon, but she was going to miss me. We promised to write to each other every month and we said our good-byes. And then last week, the police called me to tell me that the car she had been taking with her fiancé crashed. She was buried that same day.”

Sec. Parks shook her head. “Why didn’t you just tell us, Scott? I was honestly thinking we should turn you over to a mental institution.”

Parker looked Sec. Parks in the face. “You’re right, Esther. I should have told you the truth, but...I was afraid to look weak.”

“Weak?” said Sec. Parks. She couldn’t believe it. “To get a team relegated and bring them back up again, that’s tough, Scott. You’re not weak at all.”

“You told me that before,” said Parker. “And you also said that it’s true that the strongest people aren’t afraid…”

“Not afraid of what?” said Sec. Parks.

“They’re not afraid...to show their emotions. Strong leaders whoop when elated, scream when infuriated, whack their heads when they’re confused, and...they can sing the blues when they feel it. What I’m saying is...strong people do cry. Strong people can…”

At that moment, Parker held Sec. Parks’s hand. His face was wet with tears, and abashed, he began rubbing furiously with a handkerchief. He didn’t look up at Sec. Parks, but just bent his head. Finally, he looked her in the eye again. Of course, the Welsh secretary had been watching the entire thing.

“Well,” she finally said after Parker had calmed down, “Conte’s right. But I think you still don’t get it.”

“I don’t?” Parker was now genuinely confused. “What do you mean?”

“You were hiding your face while shedding tears for three minutes,” Sec. Parks explained. “Then you looked up exactly when you stopped, and you blushed from embarrassment. So technically, you’re still ashamed to cry in public.”

“I am,” he admitted.

“Look,” said Sec. Parks. “You’ve had a tough day, Scott. Why don’t we take a walk? I’d like to show you something.”

“Fine with me, Esther,” said Parker. “It’s better than me moping around all day listening to old radio music.”

It was still a beautiful winter afternoon as Parker and Sec. Parks traversed the London sidewalks. The first snows were dusting the streets, and street constables were patrolling. They turned into a park, and bought steaming pretzels from a street cart. Finally, Sec. Parks led Parker to: a frozen lake.

“Look, Scott,” she said. “Do you remember this lake?”

“How could I forget?” said Parker. “The swans lived here.”

A whole flock of swans had set up housing in the lake and even had cygnets that spring.

“They did,” said Sec. Parks. “But do you remember what happened after?”

“I do,” said Parker. “The cygnets grew up, and some of the older adults passed on. Then last November, they all rose in one flight and flew away.”

“And we were gutted, right?”

“Obviously.”

“But what did you tell me?”

“I told you that with every thing that leaves and grieves us, another thing comes to bring us joy.” Parker’s face suddenly lit up. “That’s right! There’s always more joy!”

“See?” said Sec. Parks. “There’s a light at the end of this dark tunnel, Scott.”

Parker turned to the secretary. “Esther,” he said, “you’ve basically been keeping me from becoming insane these past few days.”

“It’s the least I could do, Scott,” she said. “But we still have to make a plan. Fulham isn’t going to save itself.”

“All true, Esther,” said Parker. “I was thinking of pulling a Mourinho au film noir.”

“Are you sure the bosses will let that sit?” said Sec. Parks. “You know how American impatience is.”

“Ah, you’re right,” said Parker. “But a film noir would be fun to perform. Maybe a redo of Casablanca.”

“Isn’t that a little old?” said Sec. Parks.

“Filme noirs are always old. But you’re right again. I doubt Guendouzi would like a film about before Morocco was an independent monarchy.”

“True.”

“What about Humphrey Bogart? Can’t go wrong with him.”

“A little pistol-y?”

“You’re always right, Esther.”

“I know.”

The next morning, Maja answered the door. Parker and Sec. Parks burst in, laughing.

“Explain what is going on?” Maja yelled.

“Well,” Sec. Parks breathed, “we kind of spent the whole night ice-fishing. I caught a minnow, but it got away.”

“I thought you were taking a walk?” said Maja.

“We kind of stretched the park visit,” said Parker. “After fishing, we swam.”

“In the ice-cold water?” Maja reached for the phone. “I’m calling the doctor.”

Odd, right? I know. But he looked so sad in December that I had to make an explaination.

By the way, Scott Parker and Esther Parks are not in love--they’re just very good friends. Maja doesn’t understand that.

Leave comments!

#scott parker #josh maja #esther parks oc #old chelsea players

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unholyplumpprincess · 3 years

Text

Change of Heart

Here’s the WidowAna commission! Commissioned by someone who wishes to remain anonymous.

(Older content)

Summary: In which Amelie feels her ice melting away after familiarity strikes her heart and she feels the need to return to Overwatch. Seeing Ana reminds her of what they used to have- and boy can that woman make a girl see stars.

Reblogs > Likes

!!!Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked!!!

Fandom: Overwatch

Relationship: Widowmaker/Ana Amari (FWB), mentioned romantic interest of Sombra/Widowmaker

Warnings: NSFT/R18+, Widowmaker is a trans woman with facial feminization and top surgery but no bottom surgery: Words used to describe her bits are cock/dick, FWB relationship, bondage.

Words: 2.5k

_________________

Overwatch had banded back together in another stand against the cruelty of the world, a war that would never be won. Of course, it needed to be done secretly- that went without saying. The government wasn’t fond of people with super powers causing a mess of things again. Every former agent that held the recon communicator got the message from Winston.

Even if they were playing for the same team.

Amelie could remember portions of being a member of Overwatch, the entire experimentation on her caused a big jerk in her memories. Yet, the communicator had jostled some more, a little tug in her memories that made her cold heart ache until she was absentmindedly stroking over the shape of it with her thumb, a frown to her plump lips. It would take her months to make her decision after this moment.

For once, in years, she had felt lost and confused. FELT something other than nothing. She once had had a purpose of being one of the greatest marksmen around, never missing, always taking down her prey without a shed of a doubt of anything that came after.

~Rest under the cut~

And yet...In her own mind, she found herself yearning for the smiles she once shared with the ones she used to call her ‘family’.

To Angela’s soft smiles as she checked over for injuries, to Winston acting as the father of the group and making sure everyone was fed, to their newest recruit- Lena- excited to try all the new things and do well. Ana’s kind eyes as she pinched Amelie’s cheek and told her that her aim was getting better by the day. A prideful look that always made Amelie laugh.

A shock had sent her forward in her sleep, eyes snapping awake as if something was calling out to her. Leave, run, go away- her first instincts in years that hadn’t been killer ones. She wasn’t following programming, or orders from men in Talon, something was melting her outer shell away. Something calling out to her, leave, run, go away, a mantra-

There had been one person in this entire organization she had gotten close to. Or, as close as she could have possibly gotten. Someone who saw past the cold exterior to the woman she used to be- the woman she COULD be.

Sombra.

Sombra had found a way to get Amelie to open up as best as she could, somehow wiggling her way into the spider’s heart until she found herself almost aching to see the hacker smiling up at her. Such a little thing with a hidden story, Amelie just knew she was hiding it.

However, ones who hide together stuck together.

She found herself going to Sombra’s room in the middle of the night that very same night, quietly starting to pack her things for her until the hacker stirred from her position in bed, “Ugh-- Amelie? It’s too early-” She starts to groan, sitting up in bed with her hair a mess and rubbing at her eyes, but she’s startled when Amelie rests a perfectly manicured hand on her arm.

There’s a look they share. Amelie’s eyes don’t look lost and solemn, she looks determined.

A tired, yet mischief filled smile spreads across Sombra’s face with a bit of a laugh escaping her, “Oh we’re being naughty this early? Why didn’t you say so.”

It takes an hour, maybe less to gather what is needed and for Sombra to turn off both the lights and cameras. They’re gone by morning, no sign, no note. And an even bigger surprise for everyone when the one missing with Sombra, is none other than their perfect little doll, their perfect killing machine.

The switch back to Overwatch is a culture shock, not to mention the welcome party isn’t very welcome. Not when they see Sombra, at the very least, and the person who nearly killed Lena. Something Amelie only had a flicker of memory about, as if she could recognize her face to a T, but the whole scenario had been a blur. As if she had been a puppet to a ventriloquist.

Once finally accepted after keeping them both in almost interrogation rooms to ensure there was no bugs on them or any nefarious ideas, they were allowed to be apart of the group-. With surveillance, of course.

Lena took Olivia under her wing.

And Ana had Amelie, someone Amelie hadn’t seen in years and could admire the woman even more now.

Her hair was now grayed completely over, not a shock of black in it. Her eyes were just as kind as Amelie remembered them, honeyed and warm with wrinkles delicately framing the outer edges in crow’s feet. Her smile was just as warm, if a bit sad as she reaches to set her hand on Amelie’s cheek, as if checking her over. She’s even shorter than Amelie remembered.

“You haven’t aged a day.” Ana murmurs softly, sounding sad for her and Amelie can’t blame her. Her body was practically frozen at this age, looking just like the young 28 year old Ana remembered. Amelie can’t help it as she turns her head softly into her warm palm, feeding off her heat with a soft sigh. Another small smile makes its way to Ana’s lips, “And still just like a kitten.”

The word makes Amelie scoff, reaching up to hold Ana’s hand firmly to her cheek, “It has been ages since I have been shown...affection. Understand that this does not mean I will kneel to you again.” It’s almost a challenge the way she says it.

They had previously had a thing together, under the table sort of thing. Friends with benefits where the benefit was both women were comfortable in each other’s presence, and of course the ways Ana could make her melt. Before Gerard had captured her attention, that is.

Ana had been her source of affection, pleasure, and familiarity. Her touch could be soft or rough, entirely talented as they’d work Amelie over until she’d be drenched in sweat and sobbing. A dance they both had been familiar in.

Ana showed her the skill of an older woman, Amelie showed her the flexibility of a ballerina.

A soft laugh filters through Ana’s lips, using her thumb to stroke the cold flesh of Amelie’s cheek. “I would never ask you to- not after what you have been through, my dear.”

It strikes a chord in Amelie, something soft, something...familiar.

Of course, that familiar warmth, that soft feeling had blossomed. Old habits died hard, after all.

It’s how Amelie ends up in Ana’s room, again, and again, in the familiar darkness of the night. It’s how her plum lipstick gets smeared from Ana’s own mouth or her skin as Amelie indulges in the sweetness of her scent. Of how Ana feels and sounds when her lips wrap around a soft, small breast and Amelie shamelessly ruts into the offered thigh beneath her.

It’s also how Ana finds her own heart pounding harder than it had in years, at least for a scenario like this. How her fingers twirl in Amelie’s long hair, dragging her up to press kisses to her cold face and indulging in whatever she wanted to hear. How she feels younger by the day the more often she keeps thinking of Amelie and getting aroused, having to fight down a blush at the memories of the night prior.

Insatiable, as Amelie had always been.

And now? Now Amelie is in Ana’s room again, but a little differently this time.

She’s completely stripped naked, shuddering as little tremors wrack her frame from both desire and anticipation. She feels absolutely alive in these moments, head tipped to the side and her long hair free as it dips across her pale lavender flesh. Her curves are beautiful, smooth of scars that her body repaired. Her breasts are smaller, surgery she’d had ages ago during her Overwatch days, same with the way her face is gently sloped and molded perfectly for her own comfort.

Between her legs, her cock rests half hard, heavy against her thigh that flexes with tension. Her cock isn’t too big, perhaps about five or so inches with a beautiful curve upwards with a lovely thickness. It’s smooth and lavender like the rest of her flesh, a deeper shade at the head where white pre-cum beads. She’d never gotten bottom surgery, that much she had been comfortable with.

She’s smooth all over, blemish free and hair free. Something Ana found herself learning to like as she ran her hands over her flesh- but not yet, not now.

Amelie has her arms bound behind her back, wrists together and the rope coming to the ceiling to tie around a hook to keep her standing and still. Across her chest and over her abdomen is the rope binding her wrists firmly to her own body, looking much like a beautiful spiderweb. Ana had yet to lose her touch in the art of perfect knot tying.

Amelie’s legs are open, spread with her feet flat to the ground. Her chest is rising and falling evenly, trying to settle her nerves as her golden eyes, heavily lidded with thick lashes, watch Ana like a predator. Yet, in these moments, Ana should most certainly be taking that title.

Ana is stepped a bit back to admire her work, fully dressed in a white blouse unbuttoned at the top with flared sleeves and tight black pants it’s tucked into. It looked rather old fashioned, beautiful on her. Her gray hair is pulled into an over the shoulder braid, curling to between her freckled cleavage that makes Amelie sigh at the sight. A few stray hairs curl over the eyepatch resting over her eye and Amelie would dare say she looked stunning.

If she wasn’t being cruel, that is.

Warm fingers trace up her inner thighs as Ana rests in front of her, petting up and along her curves with her other hand. “Still as obedient as ever.” She remarks with a pleased hum, silencing any protest from Amelie when her fingers wrap around a dusty purple nipple and giving it soft attention. When she inhales sharply, arching into the touch, Ana’s lips form a tale telling smirk. “Just as sensitive.”

Deft and skilled fingers wrap around her cock, giving Amelie slow, languid pumps with just enough pressure. Ana’s thumb traces the sensitive glans under the head, tracing up to her slit and letting pre-cum spill out a bit so she can use it to slick up her movements. Amelie whimpers, rolling her head to the side and letting out a huff of pleasure when Ana’s warm mouth is replaced on her breast.

A clever tongue flicks over her nipple and makes Amelie’s head swim with pleasure. She keeps her eyes closed, but she can picture Ana as perfect as ever touching her. With one hand working her over with languid strokes and gentle squeezes, her other holding Amelie’s side at where her curve meets the junction of her hip, stroking with her thumb softly in the circle of the ropes resting there.

“Ana-” Amelie breathes out, practically on her tiptoes when Ana pulls from her breast, kissing down her torso between each shape the ropes make. She only hums in response back up at Amelie, a pillow already waiting on the ground for Ana to rest on as she sinks to her knees. A hand gently rests over Amelie’s thigh, petting her outer thigh soothingly as Ana peppers kisses along the underside of her cock.

Amelie’s toes curl, turning her head to the other side before her head bows to watch her with a shaky exhale. Watching Ana’s eye flutter before peeking up at Amelie, letting her lips rub over her sensitive flesh, her hand keeping Amelie’s cock steady as she swallows the first few inches into her warm mouth.

Too much heat, too much warmth, the pleasure of it all- it's too much!

Amelie lets out a beautiful moan, hips jerking to no avail and only managing to tense her bonds tighter around her torso. She murmurs her name again, biting onto her plump lower lip as Ana takes her down with ease.

Practice, she could practically hear Ana chide in the back of her head, makes perfect.

Tension builds in her lower abdomen as Amelie nearly keels over on her bonds. She’s normally quiet in moments like this, nothing but sighs regularly passing her lips, but it seemed a scene like this brought out more of her. A soft swear under her breath, her mother tongue passing across her very lips as Ana keeps taking her into her warm mouth, nosing at her mound as she swallows around her cock-

“Shit-” She whines out in a higher voice, thighs tensing and her wrists jerking to try and maybe bury her fingers in Ana’s hair. To no avail, as her fingers flex and the jerk of her wrists only makes the rope tighten once more around her pleasantly. “Ana,” She tries again, voice high and warning.

It only results in said woman humming, swallowing her back down in a fluid motion as Amelie begins to cum. Vaguely aware of how Ana swallows it down, her hands stroking Amelie’s shaking thighs as if to soothe her.

When Amelie’s eyes flutter open blearily to look down at Ana, she watches as she slowly pulls off her soft cock. Sparing kitten licks and peppered kisses just to make Amelie shake a little bit more before she pulls back and wipes her mouth off on the back of her hand.

“How are you feeling?” Ana asks as she moves to stand up, stroking over Amelie’s curves and reaching behind her in an embrace as well as to pluck the knot from the ropes. “Do you want water? Tea?”

Amelie hums softly in a negative, letting her bonds be free as Ana begins rounding her to help with the bonds, rubbing over the marks left on her skin. “I feel...alive- better than I did earlier.” Spoken calmly, despite the waver in her voice from the tremors in her body. Once the ropes are all removed, she nearly falls on her first step, but Ana gently leads her to the bed instead.

“Come, lie down, you squirmed too much and caused a burn.” Sounding chiding as always, Amelie can’t help but smile at Ana’s fussing. Letting herself rest back on the bed and turn her head to bury herself in the familiar scent of teas and cinnamon.

Ana returns only moments later, a spicy smelling salve being applied to the rope burns across Amelie’s rib cage, wrists, and hips. Massaging into tense muscles as the prior Talon marksman sighs with pleasure and comfort. The entire time, Ana murmurs praise as she works her over, telling her how good she was, how beautiful, just as she starts to doze off. Safe, at last.

Now, Amelie just needed to find a way to get a certain feisty hacker’s romantic attention.

#Widowana #Widowmaker x Ana #Widowmaker #Ana Amari #Overwatch #bendoverwatch #nsft #lemon #commissions #princess writing #Trans Widowmaker

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robinrunsfiction · 4 years

Note

can we get a sequel to the lonely road? maybe the reader deletes their Twitter account and the haters are tweeting how weak they are and such and gee steps in on Twitter and all his socials talking about it and how happy he is and that everyone putting the reader down wasn't truly a fan because they weren't respecting her and how happy she made him? just gee stepping in and defending the reader

The Lonely Road Part 2 - Home Again

Pairing: Gerard Way x Female ReaderRating: Teen (for online bullying)Requested By: Three separate anonsWord Count: ~1,500Author’s Note: Holy smokes guys! Three separate anons all looking for part two of this story?! That make me feel so good as a writer! And the best part is that everyone seemed to have the same idea I did, as I had basically pulled that part out of part one to keep it from getting too long and rambling. Kinda like this note is getting. Ok on to the story!

Gerard flew back to LA later that day and your tour continued on. The next few stops were much better, thanks in part to the refreshing visit with Gerard and a day off that everyone sorely needed, but also Christine getting much more stern with the interviewers about the questions they would be asking.

Having removed the Twitter app from your phone was proving to be incredibly helpful for your mental health, however it wasn’t silencing the constant stream criticism and hate from Gerard’s so-called fans. The longer you maintained your silence, the more vicious the tweets became.

I hope @(YFN)(YLN) bus crashes

Hey @mikeyway is (YN) as aweful as she seems?

can we just cancel her fo existing? #(YN)iscancelledparty

A couple weeks later, the tour was over and you were rolling back into LA. Christine drove you home and debriefed you on what you would be doing in the coming weeks, but most importantly you had a few days off. All you could think of was getting home and meeting up with Gerard, but when you finally arrived, a familiar car was already waiting in the driveway.

“Gee!” You squealed, jumping out of the passenger seat as soon as the car had stopped moving. You ran up to him and jumped in his arms as he spun you both around. “Ugh the last two weeks were the longest yet!”

“I know, I missed you so much,” he said, setting you back down before planting a big kiss on you.

You weren’t aware of how long you had been lost in Gerard’s kiss until you heard Christine clearing her throat behind you.

“Sorry to interrupt this lovely reunion, you two really are the cutest I swear, but (YN) you wanna get your dirty laundry out the back seat of my car?” Christine asked snidely.

You pulled back and rolled your eyes as you went to retrieve your things.

“Thanks again for coordinating everything so I could come out and see (YN),” you heard Gerard say to Christine.

“Happy to help. I’ll get outta here so I’m not interrupting any further,” she said with a wave. “Oh and don’t forget (YN), meeting on Tuesday at 11 AM.”

“Got it,” you said, waving her off as Gerard helped to carry your bags inside the house. “Ugh, finally it’s just you and me again,” you said, draping your arms over Gerard’s shoulders as he put his hands on your waist, kissing you sweetly.

“My favorite place to be,” he smiled. “What do you wanna do first?”

“Honestly? I’m starving, can we order some lunch? And then eat it in bed? And just stay in bed for like the rest of the day?“

“That sounds great,” Gerard laughed.

The next morning Gerard invited you to go along with him to the studio to sit in on My Chem’s recording session.

”(YN)! How was touring?“ Ray greeted you with a warm hug.

"Ugh, it was a real learning opportunity,” you laughed and rolled your eyes.

“Gee told us you were having some trouble with the internet. That’s why I just stay away from it,” Ray shrugged.

“You probably got the right idea,” you replied as Mikey and Frank walked in.

“Hey (YN), welcome back,” Mikey said, exchanging a look with Frank.

“Yea… what was that about?” You replied, narrowing your eyes as you lookied between the two of them.

“Nothin,” Frank replied. “I gotta get in there and get this riff recorded before I lose it,” he said, hurrying into the recording booth. Ray turned his attention to talking to the producer about what Frank was doing, leaving you with the brothers.

“Mikey, what was that look you gave Frank?” Gerard pressed.

“Yea, spill it,” you chimed in.

Mikey sighed. “I went on twitter for the first time in a while and there were all these messages directed at me asking why you weren’t on there, if you were too scared and weak to face the fans, if I liked you dating Gee, if Gee was happy, asking me to break you guys up so Gee and Frank can be together,” he said rolling his eyes.

“For fucks sake,” Gerard muttered, running his hand through his hair.

“Did you reply?” You asked, your voice barely coming out as a squeak. You were so sick of this response when your music career was just barely taking off. What if you achieved the level of success you once dreamed of, what would the criticism be like then? And what if Gerard got sick of dealing with you and the drama that seemed to follow you at every turn.

“Nah, I’m not gonna dignify that shit with a response. But for the record, I love you and Gee together,” he smiled reassuringly.

“Well I’ve fucking had it,” Gerard snapped as he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“Shutting this down. These people claim to be fans, but can’t show a shred of respect to you, me, Mikey, Frank, Jamia, any of us. It ends today.”

You glanced at Mikey, who shrugged and joined Ray listening to Frank play. Gerard quickly slipped deep into thought as he typed furiously at his phone. You turned your attention to Frank’s playing as well until you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Wanna go for a walk?” Gerard asked.

“Sure,” you replied with a smile as you got up and followed him out of the studio. It was a warm, sunny day, perfect for being outside instead of cooped up in a soundproof, windowless room. Gerard’s hand found yours as you wandered down the street, eventually stopping at a small cafe with big planters of bright flowers surrounding their outdoor seating area.

“This place is so cute,” you commented between sips of your iced coffee when you found a table.

Gerard nodded in agreement, before sliding his chair closer to yours. “I wanna get a photo,” he said, holding up his phone as he leaned in and placed a kiss on your cheek and you laughed with delight. Before you knew it, you and Gerard were practically having a full-on photo shoot, taking photos on your phones of each other, and both of you together. You were laughing and having a wonderful time until two people in business attire shot you a withering glance as they sat down at one of the other tables to begin their meeting.

As Gerard’s laughter died down, he started scrolling through the photos. “This is the one,” he said.

“What?” You asked, looking up from your own collection of photos.

“One sec,” he said, concentrating on his phone for a moment. “Ok, umm, so I want you to read this caption before I post it on instagram. You’re the most important person in the world to me and I love you. I’m so sick of how you’re being treated online, so I hope this shuts it down.”

When you took his phone, you looked at the photo he had selected and edited a little. You were laughing, holding your coffee, the bright flowers behind you providing the perfect backdrop as the sun shone down, but your heart pounded in your chest as you scrolled down and began to read:

It frustrates me that I even have to write this, but it’s overdue. For weeks and months now, I’ve tried to ignore the near constant barrage of hate and vitriol being spewed toward someone who is so important to me. I’ve said before that (YN) brings so much happiness and love to my life, she’s someone that I’ll be with forever if I’m lucky.

But when every day I have to see and hear that people are questioning how much joy she brings me, saying vile things to and about her, it makes me sick. No one deserves that. And the fact that it’s being done in the name of supposedly protecting me is unacceptable. Disrespect is unacceptable and that’s not what being a fan is.

To everyone who has shown (YN) love and support with her new album, or at the very least treated her respectfully, thank you. I appreciate it so much.

To my love (YN), I am so sorry that I didn’t do this sooner. You’re the most talented, beautiful, thoughtful, loving woman I’ve ever met. Never let them steal what makes you wonderful. I’m here for you always.

You glanced up at Gerard, your eyes welling up with tears. “Thank you,” you said softly.

“I mean it, I’m so sorry I didn’t step in sooner. I thought if we ignored it, they’d shut up and go away, not get worse.”

“It’s ok, there was no way of knowing,” you shrugged. “Maybe this will get someone to think twice. And I think we’ll all be better off if we take a break from Twitter. That’s where the worst of it seems to be.”

“You’re right,” Gerard nodded. “I really love you (YN),” he said with a gentle smile.

“I love you too. And thank you for everything you do for me,” you said as you leaned in and sweetly placed a kiss against his lips.

#Anon #gerard way x reader #gerard way fan fic #gerard way fan fiction #gerard way imagine #my chemical romance fan fic #my chemical romance fan fiction

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miguel-manbemel · 4 years

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Aspects & Fanfics Ep. 27: A Side is Born Part 2: Grown and Lost

New episode of this fic inspired on Sanders Sides by Thomas Sanders, Joan S. and the Foster Dawg Team. Thank you so much for the good reception that the previous episode had. Now, the story continues, right where it ended. Each episode is gonna feature in the beginning a quick reminder from the most important events in the previous episode, with the fun fact that these reminders are embedded in the story and are of an unique style for each part. Nedless to say, these reminders are full of spoilers from these previous episodes if you haven’t read them. May you enjoy this second part of the story and until next week.

WARNINGS: Romantic prinxiety and logicality. Some light innuendo. Fair warning that in the last part of this episode, the mood switches to strong angst.

SYNOPSIS: In front of the others, Chris has started growing at great speed and they wonder why is it happening. In the middle of this, fearing that they will never know him as a child, Roman decides to take the boy to Sandersia so that Ira and Roland get the news of the newborn before that newborn is an adult himself.

EPISODE INDEX

[a sign reading “In the previous episode..." appears. Flashback images from the previous episode are shown while Roman’s voice is heard off-screen]

NARRATOR-ROMAN: [off-voice] Today has been a memorable day in so many senses. It all started this morning when Virgil suddenly felt not so good…

VIRGIL: I didn’t want to concern you, Roman. Probably it’s just something I’ve eaten that’s not agreeing with my stomach.

ROMAN: Still, my duty as your husband is taking care of you when you’re feeling bad. I thought we had agreed on not hiding things from each other.

VIRGIL: Don’t worry, Roman, I’m sure this is not serious.

NARRATOR-ROMAN: [off-voice] But very soon, things started spiraling out of control.

THOMAS: Heh… It’s funny. If you weren’t a man I would say that you’ve got all the symptoms of being pregnant.

[Virgil slowly lowers his hands from his face and looks at Thomas with a face of horror]

THOMAS: [serious] Wait… don’t tell me that you can…

VIRGIL: Oh… my… goodness… [putting his hands on his belly] For the love of Gerard Way…

THOMAS: But… this is not a Sims game! Since when can a person with male reproductive organs get pregnant!?

NARRATOR-ROMAN: [off-screen] Yep, surprise. We had a bun in the oven. Although it looked more like a micro-wave oven, cause the bun was cooking really fast…

VIRGIL: [in pain, putting his hand on his belly] Aw!

ROMAN: [scared] What was that, Virgil! Are you okay?

VIRGIL: I… I think so… He moved inside me, and kicked me really hard from my insides. It was so weird…

ROMAN: Seriously, Logan. How can this go so fast? This morning he was having the first nausea and now he looks as if he was six months pregnant already!

LOGAN: Well, as I told you, we’re not human. Maybe instead of nine months, Virgil’s pregnancy will be only nine hours. Probably less, judging how fast it’s going.

NARRATOR-ROMAN: [off-voice] And before we could know how, Virgil was lying on the couch in labor.

LOGAN: The next thing coming out of there will be the baby. Now, one last time, use all your might you have left and push as if tomorrow would never come. Now!

VIRGIL: [pushing] NNNNNGGGGGHHHHHAAAAAAA!!!

LOGAN: Here it comes!

[A bright magenta smoke comes out of Virgil’s body. As it comes out forming a magenta cloud, Virgil’s belly shrinks until it returns to its normal flat form, while he shows a face of huge alleviation. Then, the cloud floats to Virgil’s chest and after some seconds, it disappears, to reveal a little baby dressed only with magenta diapers. The baby starts crying]

LOGAN: Well, it’s done. Good job, Virgil.

VIRGIL: [with his eyes full of tears] I… I… look at him, Roman.

ROMAN: [crying] I’m looking at him, Virgil. He’s as handsome as his dad. And I mean you.

NARRATOR-ROMAN: [off-voice] And we thought that was it. We had our newborn son, Chris, we were set to live happily ever after as a family… and that was all. But there was another surprise on board for the evening…

VIRGIL: Um… guys…

ROMAN: What?

VIRGIL: It looks like our little baby is not so… little… anymore… Look…

[Virgil takes Chris out of the cradle. Except that it is now a three year old boy]

CHRIS: [giggling and poking Virgil’s nose] Dad, I want pizza!

THOMAS AND ROMAN: [overlapping] Whaaat!?

[image of narrator Roman looking at the camera]

NARRATOR-ROMAN: And so here we are. What’s happened to our son? What is gonna happen next. Stay tuned, everyone.

VIRGIL: [off-screen] Roman, will you cut it out and come here already!?

NARRATOR-ROMAN: Sorry, Virge. I’m going. Rolling title screen.

[intro sequence]

THOMAS: What… has happened?

VIRGIL: Are you asking me? I don’t know how this works, Thomas, this is my first son.

CHRIS: Dad, I want pizza!

ROMAN: Don’t you think you’re too young for pizza, young boy?

[Chris looks at Roman, then his eyes get full of tears]

CHRIS: [crying] I want pizzaaaaa!

THOMAS: Well, I guess now I know which Side has inherited my passion for pizza.

VIRGIL: We’re gonna need help. Dad! Logan! Could you come here, please?

[Logan and Patton are risen up in Patton’s spot. They are kissing, unaware of their surroundings]

ROMAN: [saying the actual word] Ahem…

[Logan and Roman stop kissing and look scared at the others]

LOGAN: [angry] Hey, do you think this is an appropriate time to call!? We were… [looking nervously at Patton who is just blushing and looking away] busy!

THOMAS: I’m sorry, guys. But this is another… emergency. Look.

[Thomas points at Chris who is still crying next to Virgil]

PATTON: Who’s that boy?

VIRGIL: It’s Chris, dad. Your grandson.

PATTON: What?

ROMAN: He has just aged three years in a matter of a second and we don’t know how.

LOGAN: Oh, wow… I didn’t expect that…

PATTON: Why is he crying?

VIRGIL: He wants pizza. But I don’t think he’s old enough to eat it. I mean, he’s only five hours old. It could sit bad in his stomach. He was drinking his formula just half an hour ago.

PATTON: Young boy, crying is not the way to get the things that you want. If you want to get something, you must learn to say “Please” and “Thank you”. And even so, sometimes we just can’t get what we want and we must learn to deal with it.

[Chris stops crying, then looks at Patton]

CHRIS: [with a cute innocent voice] Please, grandpa. Can I get some pizza?

PATTON: [squeeing] He’s called me grandpa! Of course you can, kiddo. Take all the pizza you want!

CHRIS: [happy smile] Thank you, grandpa!

VIRGIL: Wait, dad, I don’t think that…

[But Chris has already jumped to the pizza and started devouring it]

ROMAN: Oh, my gosh…

VIRGIL: He looks like the cookie monster…

[Suddenly Chris stops eating. He stands still with a face of nausea]

VIRGIL: What is it, Chris? Are you okay? I told you not to eat that pizza!

[Chris burps loudly. As the burp goes out, he starts growing]

VIRGIL: Look! He’s growing again!

[In a matter of seconds, Chris looks like a twelve-year-old boy]

ROMAN: He eats and then grows? Perhaps I should have called him Alice.

PATTON: Like Alice in Wonderland? Hey, think! If he drinks some milk, the kid may shrink back. Oooh… I love alliteration.

CHRIS: Guys, why are you all staring at me? [looks at himself] Oh… I see, it’s because I’m still in these diapers. Hold on, I’ll fix that.

[Chris points at himself and his clothes change to a medieval princely outfit, similar to Prince Phillip from Sleepy Beauty, but the suit is white with a red belt, and the sleeves are dark purple. The cape is magenta and has a hood. He sports Roman’s shield on the chest, but with the background in magenta and a stormy cloud over the castle]

CHRIS: That’s more like it.

ROMAN: [with a smile of emotional joy] Oh, my God… You look… majestic!

CHRIS: Thank you, father. If I’m a prince, I must look like it.

VIRGIL: [same emotional joy] And you even carry a hood! I’m so proud!

CHRIS: I knew you’d like it, dad.

LOGAN: Hmm… Not only he’s growing physically at great speed. He’s also growing mentally. At this rate, he’ll look just as adult as anyone of us in a short time… Chris.

CHRIS: Yes, Logan?

LOGAN: Would you mind if I performed a check on you?

CHRIS: What for, grandpa?

LOGAN: Because… wait, grandpa?

CHRIS: You’re Patton’s boyfriend, aren’t you? That makes you my grandfather-in-law.

LOGAN: Well, technically not until we marry and… wait, we’re deviating. I need to make sure that you’re in perfect condition and that this quick growth is normal.

CHRIS: Okay, grandpa, help yourself.

[Logan gets a little nervous over being called grandpa again, but he puts himself together and places his hand on Chris’ chest. Logan starts shaking for a couple of seconds, then takes his hand off]

LOGAN: I see…

VIRGIL: What?

LOGAN: Chris is totally fine. There’s nothing wrong with him at all. This quick growth is perfectly natural.

ROMAN: But there must be a reason why he’s growing up so fast. We didn’t grow up that quickly.

PATTON: Well, as far as I remember, I was always an adult, so…

LOGAN: Yes, but that’s because you chose to have an adult shape on purpose, or so you said.

PATTON: To be honest, I don’t remember at all, Logan. What I said is my own explanation to that fact. When I met all of you, I always met you sharing the same age Thomas had at that moment in life, but back then, I was already an adult. When I try to go back in my memories, there’s always a moment when everything goes blurry until there’s nothing more.

LOGAN: That’s what always happens, Patton. No human can remember the first two to three years from their existence at all and their memories are blurry until they get around 6 or more. And guys, it’s true that we all took our time to grow up, but you’re forgetting one important detail.

VIRGIL: What?

LOGAN: Chris was born as a baby while Thomas was an adult. It was only natural, as Virgil would have exploded if he had to hold an adult body inside of him. But that doesn’t change the fact that we, as Sides of Thomas, must share with him, among other things, the same age. Chris was born as a baby, but now he’s bound to grow up at a fast pace to catch up to Thomas’ age. Then, he’ll start aging normally like all of us, at Thomas’ same pace.

THOMAS: Oh… Is that all?

LOGAN: Yes. What did you expect?

THOMAS: I don’t know, things with you don’t tend to be so simple.

CHRIS: Are you calling me simple, Thomas?

THOMAS: No, I wasn’t calling you…

CHRIS: [pulling out a classic medieval sword and a shield decorated with the same insignia on his chest, speaking with a theatrical melodramatic voice] Cause I could pull out my sword and challenge you to a duel, my good sir!

LOGAN: [sighs] He’s just as dramatic as his father.

ROMAN: [squeeing] He even has a shield of his own! Oh, my God, you look gorgeous! And what is also great is that now I’ll have someone to practice fencing with. [hopping] Oh, my goodness, I’m so happy right now!

VIRGIL: [smirks] Be careful, my love. You’re gonna slip on the puddle of your drool.

ROMAN: I suddenly had an idea. Since it’s clear that we’re too excited to go to bed right now…

LOGAN: [looking at Patton] Well, I was really excited to go to bed a moment ago…

ROMAN: [beat] You’ll have time for that later. I think we should take Chris to Sandersia, so that he meets my brother Roland and Ira. They don’t even know that he’s been born and I can’t wait to see their faces.

THOMAS: Isn’t it a little late for a journey, though? It’s eleven o’clock, and I’m a little tired, you know? Couldn’t we leave this for tomorrow? It’ll be Sunday, and I have all the day free of compromises.

ROMAN: [begging] Oh, come on! I want them to see him while he’s still a child! If we wait, he’ll be an adult already, and it just wouldn’t have the same surprise effect! I don’t wanna miss it! Pleaaase!

THOMAS: [sighs] Okay, if it’s so important to you, okay.

ROMAN: [hopping] Yayyy!

THOMAS: Are you good to walk, Virge? You’ve just given birth some hours ago.

VIRGIL: Oh, I think I’ll be fine, Thomas. I don’t have any pains and I feel strong enough.

LOGAN: You don’t need to fear for Virgil, Thomas. His recovery will be a lot quicker than in normal physical childbirths. If he doesn’t go through too intense physical activities at least for tonight, he’ll be fine, and tomorrow he’ll be good as gravy.

THOMAS: Okay.

ROMAN: Then it’s settled!

THOMAS: Okay… Let’s go to Sandersia, then.

[All of them sink down and rise up in Roman’s room, then they head to Sandersia. It’s nighttime over there too. They all get in the royal carriage, always waiting at the door as usual, and head to the royal castle. As usual too, the carriage arrives in no time]

ROMAN: Well, here we are. Oh, the door is locked? That’s weird.

LOGAN: Weird? What did you expect, a welcome committee? You didn’t announce our visit and it’s freaking nighttime!

ROMAN: Not for long, though.

[Roman rises both hands. In a matter of seconds, the sky turns blue and the sun rises over the sea]

LOGAN: [a little blinded by the sudden sunlight] That’s cheating.

[Roman knocks the door using the knocker several times]

VOICE: [from inside] Okay, okay… why the rush?

[the noise of locks opening from inside are heard and the door opens. Ira comes outside wearing a green pajama

IRA: Oh, it’s you. When I told you to come for a visit, I didn’t mean for you to come in the middle of the… [noticing the sun is in the sky, confused] …morning? Did I oversleep? What time is it?

ROMAN: Oh, it’s twelve midnight, I just did a little tweak, so that you didn’t trip over anything in the dark.

IRA: But why? Is there any emergency of some kind?

ROMAN: Yes, and no. I just want Roland and you to meet someone.

IRA: Someone? [noticing the presence of Chris] Oh, good morning… I mean evening… I mean… whatever.

CHRIS: Good evening, sir.

IRA: And who is this lad, if I may ask, Roman?

ROMAN: I’m not telling yet, it’s a surprise. Go call my brother, please. I want you two to know who he is at the same time.

IRA: Okay. I’ll call Roland. You can wait in the throne room. Come in, make yourselves a home.

ROMAN: Thanks, Ira.

[Roman and the others get to the throne room while Ira goes away]

THOMAS: [yawns] Roman, I’m a little sleepy. We should have waited till tomorrow.

ROMAN: Hold on a little bit, Thomothy. Soon we’ll be done. Maybe we could even sleep here if Roland lets us.

THOMAS: Is that possible for me, though? What would happen if I fell asleep while inside the Mind Palace?

LOGAN: Well, for certain we would all fall asleep with you. All except Virgil, who is the only one that, if he wants to, can resist sleep or wake up while you slumber, due to him being your fight-or-flight impulses.

CHRIS: I can do that too. A gift from my dad.

VIRGIL: Oh, that’s good to know.

THOMAS: But would Sandersia stay in place?

LOGAN: Of course, Thomas. For Sandersia to have structural problems, you would need something worse than sleep. You’d have to be almost in a coma.

THOMAS: Well, I’m not going to that extent to do the experiment, and besides I don’t want Sandersia to be damaged, so it’s good to know that. Thanks, Logan.

LOGAN: No problem.

[Roman and Ira enter the throne room. Roland is wearing a dressing coat]

ROLAND: Hi, Roman, hi guys.

ROMAN: Hi, Roland.

IRA: Okay. We’re both here. Why all the rush, Roman?

ROMAN: Well, let me introduce you to our new addition to the family. This is Chris. Chris, these are my brother Roland and our good friend Ira.

CHRIS: Good evening. Nice to meet you.

ROLAND: Nice to meet you.

IRA: Good evening.

ROMAN: I think I’m gonna let him to properly introduce himself. Okay, go ahead.

CHRIS: Well, my name is Christian Gerard Sanders. And I’m the Side of Angsty Creativity. But you can call me Chris.

ROLAND: Angsty… Creativity?

IRA: Hold on, weren’t those two concepts assigned to Virgil and you earlier? [face of realization and shock, then he smiles widely] Oh! Oh, my goodness, I get it! Congratulations, Roman!

ROLAND: What? What’s the matter?

IRA: Don’t you see? This boy is the son of Virgil and Roman! Angsty Creativity!

ROLAND: Oh, my goodness! How…? When…? Congratulations, guys!

[Roland and Ira hug Roman and Virgil, then they also give a quick hug to Chris]

ROLAND: I should have paid more attention. Of course he’s your son. His shield is a mix of both your insignias. I’m so happy to meet you, young man.

CHRIS: I’m happy to meet you too, uncle Roland.

ROLAND: Oh, that’s right. This boy is my nephew. And as your son… he’s the new heir to the throne of Sandersia! That’s great! But when did this happen?

VIRGIL: Today.

ROLAND: Today?

VIRGIL: Well, yesterday already. He was born just a few hours ago.

ROLAND: But he’s so grown-up already!

CHRIS: [suddenly showing a funny face] Oh…

ROLAND: What’s wrong?

CHRIS: If you think I’m a grown up now… wait and see…

[Chris points at his own clothes. They grow until they are of an adult size, too big for him]

ROLAND: Why would you do that?

CHRIS: [suddenly with adult voice that startles everyone] It’s happening again, I can feel it.

[Chris starts growing up in front of Roland and Ira, who watch with a stunned expression. In a matter of a few seconds he looks like an adult, and his outfit fits him perfectly]

IRA: I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe. But now… now I’ve just seen everything.

CHRIS: Well, I think the growing phase is over. Now I just have to age a little bit until I get synchronized with Thomas’ age and that will be it. Now I’m totally ready to start working as a Side of Thomas.

VIRGIL: Oh, my God… Kids grow so fast. It feels like yesterday when I was cradling you in my arms and now you’re a full grown-up man. Except that it was literally yesterday, of course.

CHRIS: It’s okay, dad. I may look like an adult, but I’m still your one day old son, ready to learn from you and father anything you’re willing to teach me to be a better Side.

VIRGIL: [bursting in tears] Why am I suddenly so emotional lately? Yesterday, I would have dismissed all these emotions as corny and now look at me. This feeling of love is so overwhelming I can barely resist it.

PATTON: [putting his hand on Virgil’s shoulder] Welcome to my world, kiddo. Nice to have you. That’s exactly how I feel about you all the time.

VOICE: [evil mocking tone] Isn’t this nice?

[everyone starts looking in all directions trying to find the source of the voice]

THOMAS: Who’s there!?

VOICE: I’ve been waiting for so long for this moment to come and finally, it’s here!

[Suddenly, Chris is surrounded by what looks like a dark bubble]

CHRIS: What gives!?

[the door opens and the Dark Master enters in, wearing a black cloak with silver ornaments on the shoulders and the hood. The dark bubble flies next to him with Chris inside]

THOMAS: You again? How many times do we have to defeat you, boy?

DARK MASTER: Long time no see, Light Master.

ROMAN: [pulling out his samurai sword] Release our son! Right now!

DARK MASTER: Release him? Oh, sure, I will release him, as soon as I’m done with him.

VIRGIL: If you touch just one hair of him, I swear…

DARK MASTER: Oh, don’t worry emo, I’m not going to harm him. I need him in one piece for my plans.

VIRGIL: [progressively angrier and more hysterical as he speaks] What plans? What are you going to do to him? Let him go, you bast**!

DARK MASTER: Let him go? After all the time I’ve been waiting for one of his kind to appear? Never.

PATTON: What’s so special about him? I don’t understand.

DARK MASTER: [giggles evilly] I certainly did a good job with you, Patton.

PATTON: What?

DARK MASTER: Erasing your memories was so easy. It wasn’t a perfect work, but nevertheless it worked. You wouldn’t even try to get your memories back. You just got contented and started behaving like the stupid father figure you are right now.

PATTON: I don’t understand…

VIRGIL: Neither do I, but I don’t care! Release him!

DARK MASTER: It’s your only fault that I’m taking your son right now, Virgil! You brought this onto him!

VIRGIL: What?

DARK MASTER: The original plan was to take you instead of him. You were born for that only reason. But you had to escape to the Light Realm and ruin everything.

VIRGIL: What would you know about my birth?

DARK MASTER: Oh, everything. I know everything about it. I even had you in my arms not long after you were born. You looked so tiny, so vulnerable. So suitable. You just needed to grow until you were mature enough. But Patton had to be a goody daddy and the Light Master had to ruin it all!

THOMAS: Me? What…?

VIRGIL: What is he talking about, dad?

PATTON: [confused] I promise I don’t know, kiddo. I don’t remember…

DARK MASTER: Perhaps I can help with that.

[The Dark Master points at Patton. A light blue sphere appears on his hand]

DARK MASTER: This, on my hand, are your stolen memories. You’re no longer a worthy enemy, so I won’t be needing them anymore, and I need to make room for… another procedure. Here, take them back.

[the light-blue ball is projected at light-speed and impacts into Patton’s head, making him walk two steps back. The light enters inside Patton’s head, who holds his head with both hands and groans as if he was suffering the worst headache ever, as if his head was about to explode right there.]

VIRGIL: [scared] Dad!

LOGAN: Patton!

[in a few moments, Patton adopts a serene face. He stops holding his head and looks fiercely at the Dark Master]

PATTON: [serious deep voice, never heard before from him] Now I remember… everything.

DARK MASTER: Good. Then now you know it all. How does it feel? Please, tell me that it hurts you, it would be so rewarding for me.

PATTON: Yes, I remember. Yes, it hurts. And no, you won’t get away with your plans.

DARK MASTER: [evil voice] I challenge you to stop me. If you want to find me, you know where to look for me… sweetie. [back to an unconcerned, mocking voice, to Roman] Oh, by the way, thank you Roman, I couldn’t have done this without you.

ROMAN: What?

DARK MASTER: If you hadn’t entered Sandersia with Chris, I wouldn’t have been able to reach him, and if you hadn’t turned the night into day, I wouldn’t have known you were here, allowing me to come here to check what you were up to. What a pleasant surprise you gave me when you introduced your boy. Thank you for your invaluable help.

ROMAN: [face of remorse] What have I done…?

[the Dark Master starts levitating and so does the dark bubble holding Chris in. Chris shows a face of fear for the first time and starts banging at the bubble, desperately trying to break it]

CHRIS: [scared whining] Father! Dad! Help me! Don’t let him take me!

VIRGIL: [in tears] You bast**! He’s just a baby! Thomas, do something!

THOMAS: I’m trying! I’m trying to go into Light Master mode… but I’m so tired I get dizzy when I try! I can’t keep it together!

DARK MASTER: Well, as the old cartoon said, that’s all folks! Bye!

[The Dark Master flies away through the door and the bubble follows him with Chris inside]

CHRIS: [screeching in horror] Heeeeelp!

[his cry for help gets lost in the distance before the others have time to react. Then Virgil starts running to the door]

VIRGIL: Come back! Give me my son back! I beg you! Take me instead! No!

[he stops before reaching the door, with pain in his stomach over the effort. Roman runs after him and holds him]

VIRGIL: [hysterical, he turns around and starts punching Roman’s chest with both fists, while Roman looks at his husband with a face of intense suffering and remorse] Don’t touch me! This is your fault! This is all your fault! They took him away because of you! I hate you! I hate you! [he stops punching Roman’s chest and lies on it sobbing on it while Roman hugs him, also crying] I hate you…

ROMAN: I’m sorry, Virgil. I didn’t know this would happen… But we’ll fix it. We have always defeated the Dark Master and this will be no exception. I promise by my royal crown that he’ll get what he deserves and we’ll rescue our son! I solemnly swear it!

[a sign reading “To be continued, guys, gals and non binary pals appears”]

[ending card]

[a couple of minutes have passed, The guys are sitting down on some benches. Virgil is lying on Roman’s shoulder, his face completely void, looking at the infinity, trying to evade himself from the horrible reality he’s facing]

THOMAS: I’m so sorry, guys. I wish I could have been of more help. I just couldn’t call my powers out of exhaustion.

ROMAN: It’s not your fault, Thomas. Like the Dark Master said, it’s my fault and only mine. I’m sorry, guys. [to Virgil] I’m sorry, my love.

VIRGIL: [looks at Roman and holds his hand, then speaks with a weak, heartbroken voice] And I’m sorry for hitting you earlier… I was out of my mind and I didn’t mean what I said. Of course I don’t hate you.

ROMAN: [kissing Virgil’s hand] I know, my love. But you were so right at the same time…

PATTON: You didn’t know this would happen, Roman. Don’t torture yourself.

ROMAN: A marvelous father I’m turning out to be. The first thing I do is delivering him in a silver plate to the enemy.

PATTON: Well, I don’t think I was any better, to be honest.

VIRGIL: [looking at Patton] What do you mean, dad? You have always been there for me.

PATTON: Not always, son. Not always. Now that I’ve got the full picture with the missing piece of my memories, I had… I have so much to regret and so much to apologize for.

THOMAS: It’s hard for me to believe that you, among all of us, could have a dark past of some kind. My mind simply can’t process it.

PATTON: And yet, I do. The Dark Master took good care of shaping my mind in a way that would never ever make me question the holes in my mind. He probably gave me that stupid naive personality so that I would never wonder about the kind of stuff he didn’t want me to remember. And it worked. I was so happy in my stupidity I got completely blind about that.

LOGAN: Don’t say that, Patton. You were not stupid.

PATTON: Yes I was. So silly, so childish. I’m so ashamed when I look back and remember the stupidity of my mind I had these past years.

LOGAN: We loved you the way you were. I loved you. I still do.

PATTON: I’m sorry, Logan, but as Deceit would say, you’ve fallen in love with a lie. The Patton you fell in love with is not real. It was never real. I don’t deserve any kind of love.

LOGAN: Falsehood! That’s not true!

PATTON: Yes it is. You don’t know what I did. What I made Virgil go through because of my weakness… Oh, my God, you’re gonna hate me so much when I level with you all. I’d wish that the Dark Master hadn’t restored my memories. I was happier in my stupidity and now I feel like I’ll never find peace in my life again. Maybe that was his intention, to see me suffer and torture myself forever.

VIRGIL: Dad, you are my father. Nothing you could have ever done could be so bad that I couldn’t forgive it.

PATTON: You don’t know the truth yet, son. Once you know, you won’t be able to say that again with conviction.

VIRGIL: Then tell me dad, to prove you that you’re wrong. What is that truth that is so unforgivable?

[Patton sighs]

PATTON: The truth about who your father is.

VIRGIL: You are my father, what do you mean?

PATTON: I mean your other father.

VIRGIL: My other father? You remember now his identity? Who is he?

PATTON: You already know him too well. You’ve lived with him for years in the Dark Realm. You lived under his yoke and his tyranny for many years, and I couldn’t save you, may God forgive me.

[Virgil looks at Patton. A grimace of horror slowly starts appearing]

VIRGIL: No… that’s not true… that’s impossible!

PATTON: Yes. As painful as it is for me to admit it, but it’s true. The Dark Master is your father.

VIRGIL: [progressively more hysterical as he speaks] I can’t believe you! He can’t be my father! He can’t! If he was my father, he would have never treated me the way he did in the Dark Realm! He would have never taken my son away from me! It’s impossible! No! I refuse to believe you! You’re a liar! You’re no better than Deceit!

ROMAN: [holding him by the shoulders and shaking him] Virgil, calm down! You know he would never lie to you, especially in a matter so serious!

[Virgil sits down. He can’t look Patton in the face]

PATTON: [sad] See? I told you you would hate me.

[Virgil doesn’t answer. He just stares at the infinity, with rivers of tears running down his cheeks, in complete silence. Patton looks at his son, and his eyes also get watery and red. Logan hesitates about if he should hold Patton’s hand, his face noting he'd really wish to do so. Eventually he shies away and doesn’t.]

ROMAN: Just give him some time. It’s too much to assimilate in one go.

THOMAS: I have so many questions…

PATTON: [sniffs and swallows his tears, then trying to show the voice of a dad commanding something to his son] I know, Thomas. But for now, they’ll have to wait. If we want to stand a chance against the Dark Master, you need to sleep. We all need it, for the record.

THOMAS: That’s easier said than done, though. How am I going to catch sleep with all this turmoil of emotions and thoughts running through my mind? I don’t feel sleepy, just tired, really tired, but not sleepy.

PATTON: You’re exhausted, Thomas. You don’t feel sleepy because of your nervousness over all of this, but I’m sure if you try, it won’t take you long to fall asleep. And while you sleep, we will all fall into slumber, including the Dark Master, so that could at least delay his plans with Chris. And since Chris can resist slumber, it could give him a chance too, if he could ever break out of that ball, that is.

THOMAS: What are the Dark Master’s plans?

PATTON: No, Thomas. Not now. Now, sleep. Tomorrow, I’ll tell you everything.

ROLAND: You can all use the guest bedroom in the castle. I always have it ready in anticipation for days like this when all of you would come over. The sheets were changed just this morning. And you, Thomas, can find some sleeping clothing in the closet that will suit you. After all we all have the same size in this world, right?

THOMAS: Thank you so much, Roland.

ROLAND: Don’t mention it.

ROMAN: Okay, time to bed, then. Tomorrow, we’ll call Deceit, Honesty and Remus and we’ll think about what to do.

ROLAND: Is it really necessary to call Remus, though? I’m quite unnerved by his presence. He tried to kill me, just in case you’ve forgotten, that’s why Ira came to live here with me, to be my protector against him. It just doesn’t feel right for me that you’re all so… attached to him right now. I don’t trust him.

ROMAN: I know what you mean and I understand your concern, but Remus is no longer the same as he used to be. I mean, he’s still pretty chaotic and all, but he’s harmless now, and he’s trying to fit in with us, in his own unique way. Besides, we need to be all together for greater chances of success.

ROLAND: [sighs] Okay, if there’s no choice, okay. But don’t ask me to behave nicely to him, because he wasn’t nice to me.

ROMAN: It’s fair, but you should try to give him a chance. Now, let’s go to bed. I’ll turn the day back into night so that we can sleep well, even though it’s almost morning at this point.

[they all stand up and follow Roland. Virgil, apparently unaware that the others are leaving the room, remains sitting down for a moment, still looking at nowhere, before Roman grabs him by the hand and asks him to follow them with the sweetest glance he could come up with. Virgil just follows them like an automaton to the huge guest bedroom which has eight beds. Thomas puts on the pajama he finds in the closet and gets into bed. The others just summon pajamas for themselves and get into the other beds. It only takes a matter of minutes for the exhausted Thomas to fall asleep. When that happens, the rest of the Sides fall asleep too. All of them except Virgil, who just keeps staring at the ceiling, still crying in silence, all night long]

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #prinxiety #romantic prinxiety #logicality #romantic logicality #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fic #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #aspects and fanfics

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hellofanimagination · 5 years

Text

Lightning in a Bottle

prompt: requested by anonymous “ Parade Gee smut? Where Y/N is in a drug haze and is scared so she calls him over and then it's like he tries to calm her down and whispers sweet nothing's to her while she rides him? Sorry if it's long!”

anon 2 “*SLAMS FISTS ON TABLE* PARADE GEE SMUT”

Word Count: 1,584

Warnings: drug use

A/N: idk not my best work but i really enjoyed writing this, finally i enjoyed writing something again lol

The world isn’t right, it’s upside down, sideways, burned up at the center. You’ve been this high before, higher even, but something is wrong this time and you can’t come down and you can’t find the ground and you’re sure there is something behind you despite the fact that your back is pressed up against the wall. You shouldn’t have switched dealers so suddenly, should have known that deal was too good, but you wanted to fly you love flying and this is not flying. Your skin tingles, your eyes flicker, something is behind you, everything is blurred at the edges and you can only see what you can focus on which isn’t a lot.

You don’t remember calling Gerard, don’t remember even where your phone is, but he shows up and is suddenly leaning in front of you and he’s solid and real and something to grasp on to. Gerard takes your hands and you find solid ground but something is still crawling under your skin and burning holes behind your eyes and you can feel everything so clearly...too much. You look at your hands in his, feel his skin touching yours, warm and calloused. You look up and see his face, blurry and hard to completely focus on, silver hair glowing, eyes wide, mouth so pink. You laugh and he cups your face, you lean in and smile and he rubs his thumbs along your cheek bones.

“I’m not scared with you here.” Your voice sounds far away but also perfectly content in your throat, did you even speak?

“You called me, terrified, said someone was behind you.” His voice is crystal clear, it cuts sharply through your haze and you freeze, sober for a split second.

“You scared him off.” You smile, leaning into his space. His breath is warm on your face and he smells like comfort and safety. You kiss him, lips meeting slow and sure, you know you want this. Want him.

He pulls back, hands on your shoulders to keep you away, and you whine. Your skin burns and your stomach is twisting like it does when someone yells at you.

“You’re not yourself, I’m not going to take advantage of you.” Gerard says, voice soft and eyes worried.

“I need you, Gee.” You mumble, trying to pull him in but he doesn’t budge. “Please? You’re the only safe person, you’re the only thing I can understand right now.” You’re sure that your words are slow and slurred but Gerard understands you, he always does. And besides, it’s not like this is your first time, not even your first time on drugs.

He releases your shoulders, hands sliding up your neck and into your hair, pulling you back into him and your lips collide like they always do. Electric, burning, beautiful. Everything is heightened this time, the drugs spinning your mind and setting your nerves on end, every touch like a shock to your skin, an explosion behind your eyes.

Gerard licks into your mouth and your press closer, feeling like there is miles between you. You wrestle off his shirt, fingers clumsy and eyes unfocused, not really seeing anything beyond his hazel eyes now burning black with lust.

“Y/N,” He says your name, voice just as cutting and clear as before, and you look at him like you’re trying to focus, trying to sober just for him. “You sure you want this?”

“Yes.” You say it with finality and he smiles, dipping back in to kiss you deeply.

Your shirt is gone and you aren’t sure if that was your doing or his but you don’t care, attention on his mouth on yours and his hands sliding along your waist. His fingers are calloused and warm, gentle as they set your skin ablaze and you still don’t feel close enough. You whine his name, his mouth moving to your neck, hot and wet and biting. He sucks a hickey into your skin and you whine softly, hands in his hair and digging into his shoulder. He pushes you down onto the bed, slowly moving down your chest till his lips are on your breasts. You groan and arch, feeling golden sparks where he kisses and bites and sucks.

“I love you,” His words are soft, lyrical, twisting in the air like smoke from a shared cigarette. You aren’t sure if you reply or just moan, feeling lost to the world and twisted up in desperation beneath him.

You open your eyes to see him kissing down your stomach, bites and hickeys left along your skin like a map only he can read. You watch, eyes heavy and heart pounding, his hands working off your bottoms and his own, skin revealed like works of art made to be shared. He kisses your thighs, your hips, every freckle that only he knows, your mind spins, purple haze over the room and your cry out when he buries his face between your thighs. He licks at your folds, sucks your clit and pushes two fingers into you, it feels so fast but you know he’s still moving slowly. You arch and grip his short hair, moaning and letting your body tell him to keep going, more, more.

He crooks his fingers, pumping them in time with the ministrations of his mouth. You feel him moan into you and you cum, sudden and explosive and you feel the world pop behind your eyes. The drugs send you flying, still can’t come down, you lose track of reality, your entire body tingles and moves and you hear Gerard suddenly at your ear, talking and whispering and you roll on top of him.

You smile down at him, seeing sparks and fireworks in his eyes, he’s feeding off your energy, loving every moan and cry that he gets out of you. You kiss him, feeling every second of it, grinding into his lap and feeling him hard and warm beneath you. The haze is beginning to lift but not enough, still seeing colors and shadows and Gerard is glowing in a world too dark to see.

You shift, lifting yourself up and reaching between you two to take his cock in your hand. He breathes heavily, watching you with wide eyes and you just smile, your chest constricted with feelings that remind you of butterflies and summertime and warm sunlight.

Love.

You line yourself up with him and his hands settle on your hips, grounding but not controlling. You lower yourself and you both gasp as he pushes into you, you’re shaking and he’s biting his lip and you can’t be still even if you tried. He helps guide you, finding that rhythm that you both seem to know without trying, without thinking, just feeling. He’s glowing, like the sun is in his eyes and beneath his skin and you dip down to kiss him, desperate to taste the honey slick sunlight dripping from his lips.

You moan into his mouth, feeling him pushing deep inside of you, unsure if you’re moving fast or slow, hard or soft, just knowing that you’re moving together and Gerard is the most beautiful person that you have ever seen. All you can do is feel, letting him guide your body, biting at his lips, moaning into his neck, scratching at his arms. The world is so bright and hot and you can feel his heart pounding, hear his soft moans in your ear, his hands soft and tight on your hips.

“Oh god,” Your voice breaks, feeling closer to him than ever before, feeling his skin on yours, his voice so close, his breath, his hands, his hips thrusting into you, his teeth on your jaw and neck, his nails blunt and scratching, your name mingled with groans as he gasps and tries to pull you into him like he’s drowning in you. You know how he’s feeling, like he’s the only thing in the world, like there is nothing after this moment, like all you can feel is him and this and nothing beyond it. You feel broken open, like the universe is filling you and you can’t see or breath and Gerard is all you have, all you need.

“Please,” You beg, voice desperate, your body wound so tight, ready to snap.

“Stay here baby, stay with me,” He cups you jaw, eyes connecting with yours, and you move in perfect sync and you gasp together, cum together, and you see the entire universe explode in his eyes before it all goes black and you collapse into him.

You come to wrapped together, sweaty and breathing heavily, body tingling and warm. You nuzzle into his neck, smelling sex and him. He turns his head and catches your lips, slow and sweet and deep and you break away smiling.

“I love you,” You tell him and he blushes, hand rubbing your back soothingly, legs tangles with yours.

“I love you too.” You can choose not to believe just about anything someone tells you but no matter how hard you try you could never not believe that he loves you, that he says those words like they are from deep in his chest, his heart, and they are made just for you.

You finally feel close enough and you let Gerard wrap you in his arms and you relax into him. Your mind is clear and exhausted and you let sleep start to overtake you, feeling content, loved, and safe in his arms.

#gerard way #gerard x reader #gerard way imagine #gerard way x reader #mcr imagine #mcr #my chemical romance #drugs tw

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imagineiero · 5 years

Text

Grade A

teacher/student frerard fanfiction (smut warning) teacher!frank + student!gerard

Frank didn’t set out to become a teacher, in fact he’d spent the majority of his school career despising the very profession - the source of his unhappiness, along with relentless school bullies. He’d been intelligent enough to get a scholarship and spend a year or so studying in university before dropping out and pursuing his dream as a musician, that was how his life was supposed to be planned out - he’d imagined it since he was four years old and sat in a speak-easy watching his Grandfathers band play, music was his life - he was born to play, it was in his DNA.

The crash hadn’t been part of his premonition, he hadn’t expected his dream to turn into a nightmare and he definitely didn’t see such a tragedy signalling the end of his career. He’d lost his best friend that night, as well as band-mate and Frank just couldn’t see himself getting back up on stage without his right-hand man, maybe it was cowardly - or maybe Frank was just shaken into an easy life, one with minimal risk and hearts intact. His family, especially his Mother had been happy to hear of his decision - while they knew that music was his love, his everything - they had attended the funeral with broken hearts, only thankful that it wasn’t their son they were burying.

It had been six years now and Frank was turning thirty in the fall, he still played his guitar everyday - he couldn’t ever give up that part of him, it was like an extra limb - it was part of him, a piece of his heart. He’d obtained his teaching degree rather quickly, his partial university education helping him bypass some of the coursework - he was rather well known now in Jersey as someone who had the skills to tutor even the lowest performing student into an exam-worthy scholar.

Frank didn’t work in a school, couldn’t bring himself to set foot in the building he had wished to burn to the ground barely twelve years before. Instead he’d set himself up a private tutoring service from the comfort of his own home, he’d take on one student at a time with weekends at his leisure - it gave him the time to focus on his clients fully instead of going from one student to another and mixing up their school-work. He’d met a diverse range of people through his tutoring, he taught all ages - anyone from little Rosie Michaels who was a seven year old in special education to fifteen year old Johnny Byers who’d been kicked out of school for setting fire to a science lab.

All of his students flourished, maybe it was his style of teaching and laid back attitude that helped him connect with the younger students. Frank made a pact with himself not to become one of those boring old teachers who’d lost the love of their craft years before and instead took it out on those they taught. It was working out fine for him as the years went by and last year he’d even managed to win a community nominated award for services to children - he was achieving greatly, he felt like he’d found his path in life and things were going well.

Gerard was his latest student, he’d been tutoring him for three months now and the boy was improving thanks to Frank’s dedication. Gerard was 19, he’d been held back a few years in school due to lack of progression - his Mother said he’d been bullied badly, to the extent that he refused to attend school and as a result failed to graduate. Frank wasn’t sure what to expect until Gerard showed up on his doorstep on that first Monday morning.

To put it nicely, Gerard was a total sweetheart - He walked shyly into the large open-plan room that Frank had dubbed his classroom, his soft black hair framing his pale, pixie-like face. Gerard was feminine to say the least, in fact he was androgynous and downright beautiful - Frank couldn’t help but notice the sway of his hips and the way his eyes widened so innocently every time Frank spoke to him. To top it all off, Gerard was wearing a baby pink dress - his milky thighs peeking out between the midway hem and a pair of white thigh-highs, Frank’s throat dried up at the sight.

Over the coming weeks Gerard began to ease into student life, overcoming his initial shyness and becoming more comfortable with Frank. His teacher was having a less than easy life though, in all his years of teachers he had prided himself on the fact he had never been attracted to one of his students, and though Gerard was 19 and fully legal it still felt immoral and wrong, but he just couldn’t help himself. He wondered sometimes if Gerard could see the effect he was having on him, wondered if he knew that the way he sucked on his lower lip made Frank’s jeans tighten just a little - wondered if he could see the way Frank’s eyes trailed the length of his body as he entered the classroom each morning.

Frank decided that it wasn’t completely weird that he let Gerard into his thoughts when he touched himself at night, it was just imaginary after all - where was the harm? He couldn’t deny that the thoughts of Gerard with his soft cotton dresses, bitten-red lips and doe-eyes gave him the most intense orgasms he’d ever experienced. It both excited and pained him to spend so much time with Gerard, wishing that they had met under different circumstances because Gerard was definitely the type of boy Frank would ask on a date.

“Hey Sweetheart, did you get that homework finished for me?” Frank asked as he heard the faint patter of Gerard’s white slip-ons coming down the hallway.

They’d built up a routine now, Gerard would arrive at eight-thirty each morning and let himself in - Frank would be in the kitchen making breakfast for them both, making sure to pour Gerard a coffee to get him to wake up a little, the boy hated mornings almost as much as he hated Math class.

“Yes Sir” Gerard hummed, sliding into his chair at the table and getting out his English essay “Did you sleep well, Mr Iero?”

“You know you can call me by my first name, Gee” Frank reminded him as he did every day “I slept fine thank you, did you?”

“Okay Frankie” Gerard bit his lip, swinging his legs a bit as he watched Frank walk over with the coffee “I slept okay, had a bad dream but I went back to sleep for a bit.. that’s why I look messy today.. I overslept”

“You look fine-..” Frank frowned, placing the mug in front of him and turning back to retrieve a plate of pancakes “..-real pretty, I like your dress today”

“Thanks Frankie” Gerard blushed, sipping at his drink before waving his hand furiously in front of his mouth “Ouch-Ouch-Ouch!”

“Careful Gee, it’s hot” Frank mused, repeating the same words he used every morning when Gerard was too quick to drink his caffeine

They went through their morning routine as usual, sharing pancakes and coffee as Frank marked Gerard’s work and Gerard got started on his next task.

“You did well on this one” Frank praised, sliding the essay back over to Gerard who grinned happily “A few spelling mistakes but nothing too major, it’s a really great piece Gee - you’re really improving”

“Thanks to you, Sir” Gerard smiled, resting his chin on his hand as he blinked up at the older man

“Hey, you’re doing the hard work - I’m just helping a little” Frank replied modestly “Right, so shall we start reading the next chapter in our book? I want you to do a little mock test on it later on”

Gerard nodded excitedly, they’d been reading through their current book for a few days now and it was slowly becoming Gerard’s favourite read. It told the story of a young girl who wore pretty dresses and an innocent smile to seduce her older crush, Gerard couldn’t help but feel excited at the thought of trying out such a plan on his tutor. He’d seen the way Frank would stare at him when he thought he wasn’t looking, it had start off as innocent glances at first but the heat was rising between them and Gerard longed for the day when Frank would forget his morals and just take him.

They were curled up on the sofa now, Frank would always allow Gerard to get comfortable while he was reading to him - he tended to drift off and not concentrate otherwise, besides it made a difference to being cooped up in the classroom all day. Gerard would kick off his shoes and curl his legs up underneath him, leaning against the back of the sofa as he turned to face the older man who would read sonnets and plays and fiction with his smooth, velvety voice - unaware of the effect it had on his student.

“..-and so she put on her favourite colours, knowing the way her blush contrasted with the pink puff of her sleeves - before making her way to his study, praying he would be alone-..” Frank concentrated on the pages of the book, his thick-framed reading glasses making him look even cuter than Gerard had anticipated.

“Do you think that she was bad, Sir?” Gerard piped up, tilting his head to the side

“Bad?” Frank frowned, marking the page with his fingertip “Do you think she was bad, Gerard?”

“Well.. she’s trying to seduce him, but she’s much younger-.. isn’t that bad?”

“I guess-.. I guess in that kind of situation it would be the older man that’s wrong, Gerard” Frank tried to explain carefully “Because he’s the one who should know better.. it’s not right what she’s doing, no-.. but the older man should stop it before it goes ahead, he’s the adult in the situation”

“Because he’s older?”

“Yes and No-..” Frank licked his lips slightly “.. it’s not wrong because he’s older, it’s wrong because she’s still under-age.. and whether she consents or not, it’s not her decision - not really.. it’s statutory rape, however you look at it”

“What about if she was older?” Gerard reasoned “If-.. If she was the legal age but, but he was still older than her.. is that wrong?”

Frank ran his fingers through his hair, the situation hitting a little too close to home for his liking “I guess it’s how you look at it, I mean-.. I believe that two consenting, legal age people can be together but-.. but I guess it’s frowned upon a lot by people, it’s just perspective”

“I understand” Gerard nodded, biting the inside of his cheek so he didn’t look too elated at the fact Frank had basically just said it would be fine if he and Gerard were together.

Frank went on from where he left off, reading out sentences oblivious to the thoughts and emotions swimming through Gerard’s head. He figured that now was as good a time as any to make a move on the older man, especially after what he’d just said - he only wondered now if Frank liked him back, had he imagined all the longing glances and attention? Only one way to find out.

Gerard stretched his leg out, pretending to straighten the hem of his thigh highs and taking the opportunity to brush his foot against the inside of Frank’s calf, pretending that he hadn’t noticed the hitch in Frank’s breath and the way he stuttered over his word, mid-sentence. When he’d finished messing with the stocking he left his foot where it was, pressed up against the inside of Frank’s leg - gently caressing him over his jeans.

Frank paid no attention after the first contact, choosing to carry on with his reading - much to Gerard’s delight - it was when Gerard’s foot began to rise closer to his knee that Frank’s eyes flickered from the text to the white-clothed foot between his legs yet still he made no move to push Gerard away, instead trying to refocus on the task at hand.

“..-his infatuation was becoming too strong, he was weak to resist the angelic nymph-..”

Frank took a sharp intake of breath, eyes shooting up to Gerard who was watching him innocently - waiting for him to continue, acting unaware to the fact his foot was resting against Frank’s inner-thigh. Frank swallowed thickly, looking like he was debating something in his head before glancing down at his book and continuing, his voice sounding a little higher and more unsure as he went on.

Gerard was enjoying himself now, he could see the effect he was beginning to have on the older man from the way his entire body had stiffened and the way his Adam’s apple would bob up and down as he repeatedly swallowed. His foot began as a light caress but gradually grew stronger, the pressure increasing as he ran his foot along the inside of his thigh, stopping just barely before his crotch and only when on instinct Frank’s hand darted out to grab him, his loose grip on his ankle holding his foot just barely touching his crotch.

“G-Gerard-.. What are you-..” Frank breathed, the book dropping to the ground noisily though neither of them bothered to give it a second glance - they were too caught up in the charged stare they were currently sharing.

“Nothing, Sir” Gerard bit his lip, raising his eyebrow slightly in challenge

Frank swallowed the lump in his throat, his eyes showing hesitation before he loosened his grip entirely on Gerard’s ankle, leaving him to press his foot tentatively against Frank’s already tented jeans, eyes widening as the ball of his foot grazed the outline of Frank’s arousal.

“G-Gerard-..I-..” Frank whispered hoarsely, unsure where to put himself at this point but not strong enough to push Gerard away, not when he was touching him so intimately, it was all he’d dreamed of for months “G-Ger-..”

“Shh..” Gerard whispered, moving forwards to place his fingertip over Frank’s lips “Please don’t make me stop..”

“I-..I-..O-Okay-..” Frank stuttered out, blinking softly

Gerard moved his foot away, carefully sliding his way into Frank’s lap and planting himself over his teacher’s erection, his forearms draped gently over the older man’s shoulders.

“Is this okay, Sir?” Gerard asked innocently, tilting his head slightly

Frank nodded quietly, unable to form words as his hands lay planted stiffly at his sides

Gerard pushed his slender fingers through Frank’s hair, pushing it back slightly as the older man’s eyes fluttered shut momentarily. He slowly removed Frank’s glasses and placed them down on the table, tracing his fingertips down the side of his cheek and jawline, his lips parting as he watched curiously. Gerard gently brushed their lips together, pulling a quiet whimper from his teacher before he pressed them together properly, sliding his arms over his shoulders and feeding his fingers through Frank’s hair.

Frank came to life now, his hands gently resting on Gerard’s hips, thumbs caressing circles against the soft cotton of his dress as their mouths moved in sync. He gasped lightly into Gerard’s mouth when the boy rolled his hips, pressing deliciously against his tight jeans - setting his entire body alight with burning want. He tentatively swept his tongue along Gerard’s lower lip, pleased when he parted his lips and allowed him entrance, their tongues fighting against one another until Frank overpowered him and dragged the tip along the roof of his mouth, making him whimper softly.

By now Frank was more confident in his actions, pushing one hand against his bare thigh and travelling beneath his dress, squeezing at the flesh of his thigh as Gerard rolled his hips again. The younger boy’s fingers found their way to Frank’s shirt, not hesitating before unfastening the buttons deftly, his fingertips pushing the material from the teacher’s shoulders and trailing down his tattooed chest. Gerard broke the kiss to mouth his way down Frank’s neck and collar bone, biting down playfully on his clavicle as the older man sighed breathlessly.

“Mm.. do that again-..” Frank murmured, tilting his head back against the sofa

Gerard clamped his teeth around the soft skin, running his tongue over the bite repeatedly as he gently sucked a purple bruise into his canvas. He pulled away to admire his work, pressing a soft kiss to the blemish - pleased with how blissed out Frank looked already with his bitten red lips and half-lidded eyes. He traced his fingers over the tattoos decorating Frank’s torso, dragging the tips down until he could tease just beneath the waistband of his jeans, glancing up at him expectantly - pleased when Frank nodded, bucking his hips up just enough for Gerard to unfasten his belt and shimmy the offending material to the ground.

Gerard sat himself in the space between Frank’s feet, looking up at the older man who sat naked awaiting his next movement. His cock stood proudly, curving towards his stomach - Gerard couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight, making Frank’s mouth water as he kissed his way up the inside of his thigh. Frank couldn’t believe he’d found himself in this position, he’d fantasised about it way too much but hadn’t ever considered it becoming a reality.

Gerard’s fingertips raked against the sensitive skin of Frank’s inner thighs as he lips and tongue followed the trail, gently wrapping themselves around his thick cock - his thumb sweeping over the tip and soaking up the first beads of pre-cum. Frank let his eyes flutter shut, his head lolling back slightly as he relied on his sense of touch to feel everything Gerard was submitting him to.

The sensation of Gerard’s hot breath blowing against his leaking tip made his breath hitch and he held it for what seemed like forever until Gerard’s mouth engulfed him and he let out a low groan, his hand unconsciously finding its way to Gerard’s mess of hair. He pressed his tongue flat against the underside of Frank’s cock, teasing along the prominent vein as he inched his way down - only stopping to breath through his nose when his face was buried in the wiry hairs at Frank’s base.

“G-G-..Ohhh..” Frank murmured, gently tugging at Gerard’s hair as his eyebrows furrowed, lost in the feeling and never wanting it to end.

Gerard’s fingers toyed with his balls, rolling them around before edging backwards and stroking his fingertips against his perineum making Frank buck involuntarily into the back of his throat. Gerard moaned, desperate to have his mouth filled as much as possible - he’d been dreaming about his teacher for weeks now, surprised in himself that he’d managed to wait this long.

He began to slide up and down Frank’s erection, pleased when the older man would momentarily lose control and thrust up into his mouth. He pushed his hand further beneath him until he could stroke his fingers around his tight rim, spurred on when Frank whimpered a desperate “P-Please Gee.. oh fuck, please touch me-..”

He wasted no time in sinking two fingers past his tight ring of muscle, Frank loved the burn - letting his eyes roll back as he pushed down on the intrusion, alternating between riding on the two digits and thrusting up into Gerard’s pretty little mouth. Frank’s movements began to stutter after a while and Gerard was excited to have his tongue coated in release but his teacher clearly had other ideas, backing away just enough to stop his movements.

“W-Wanna fuck you-..” Frank grunted out between breaths

“You want me to ride you, Sir?” Gerard asked sweetly, using his best puppy dog eyes as Frank whined quietly at the word ‘Sir’

Frank shook his head, nodding towards the other side of the sofa “Hands and Knees”

Gerard obeyed him, resting his forearms on the arms of the sofa and waiting for further instruction

“Good boy” Frank slurred, clumsily climbing to his feet. His eyes were dark and lustful now, all responsibility discarded and replaced with a need to ruin the pretty boy offering himself up to him.

He flipped the hem of the dress over Gerard’s hips, revealing his pale blue panties barely containing the bulge between his legs. His fingers were rough against the soft material, rubbing at Gerard’s erection and pressing his fingertips gently against his balls - tracing all the way back until he could trace the crease of his ass, swatting him sharply and pulling a desperate whimper from the younger man.

“So fuckin’ pretty.. look at you..” Frank groaned hungrily “.. all laid out ready to play”

He wasted no time in tugging the material down past Gerard’s thighs, leaving them bunched at his knees and pressing both hands against his ass cheeks, parting them until he exposed the fluttering pink hole. He massaged the meaty flesh for a moment, pulling him apart and then kneading him back together until finally without warning he pressed his tongue against Gerard’s rim and pushed all the way in, dragging a strangled cry from the younger man as he ground back against Frank’s face desperately.

“Oh-..Oh-.. Oh Sir.. Oh Frankie-.. Oh don’t stop.. Oh please-..” Gerard chanted, fingertips digging into the material of the sofa, his cock leaking profusely between his thighs.

Frank’s tongue worked expertly, stretching him open until he was pliant and needy - letting his saliva coat his chin as he pressed as deep as he could, rubbing his open mouth against the desperate entrance before pushing two fingers past the rim without warning. Gerard cried out his name louder this time, a tone in his voice he’d never heard before - a brand new moan all for his teacher, he’d never felt this close before - like Frank was keeping him dancing dangerously on the edge but refusing to let him topple over into his climax.

By the time Frank was three fingers deep, Gerard was incoherently babbling - riding desperately on his fingers and driving Frank wild. He pulled out without warning, leaving Gerard to whine - head lowered between his arms as Frank left momentarily to find protection. He returned barely a minute later, his cock sheathed up and ready to go - Gerard gasped as he felt the head of Frank’s cock against his entrance, slowly edging inside him with his fingertips leaving crescent moons over Gerard’s hips.

He was slow and careful, bottoming out a few moments later with a sharp exhale, his fingertips caressing the soft skin of Gerard’s hips as they both got used to the tight hole. The air was thick and silent apart from their synchronised panting until Frank began to slide out with a groan, thrusting back in quicker than before and dragging a punched out moan from Gerard’s lips.

It didn’t take long to build up his rhythm, one hand planted firmly on his hip and the other buried in his mess of hair, tugging gently with each movement. Gerard’s cock was leaking profusely between his legs but any thought of the soiled material beneath them was long gone when Frank began to circle his hips, slamming relentlessly into Gerard’s waiting hole, stretching him impossibly open as Gerard whined and whimpered beneath him, Frank’s name falling from his lips along with expletives.

“Oh.. F-Frankie..Please-.. Harder-..” Gerard chanted “D-Don’t stop-.. Please-.. Ah-..”

Frank used all his strength to pound into him repeatedly until the familiar heat began to pool in his stomach, swirling lower and lower until he was crying out Gerard’s name and spilling over inside of him, pulling the younger man into climax along with him. They collapsed in an exhausted heap, limbs tangled and Frank’s face buried in the space between Gerard’s shoulder blades.

“I like this lesson” Gerard murmured a few minutes later “I definitely think you should teach this way more often”

Frank snorted, snaking an arm around his middle “You definitely get an A for that one, Gee”