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Run by mrsronweasley (NC-17)
Fandom: BANDOM
Pairing: Gerard/Frank
Length: 63,490 words
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mrsronweasley
Author Website: Fic Masterlist.
Why this must be read: Being a secret teenage werewolf is hard. Frank should know. He is one.
This is an absolutely fabulous story. It's got one of the best Frank characterisations I've ever read and the way his and Gerard's relationship grows and changes throughout the story had me completely captivated. There's a lot of sex in this story and it's all scorchingly hot, but it's the way it's used to further the plot and character development that really made me love it. Well-written porn is always awesome of course, but it's so much better when it's an integrated part of a great story like this.
Excerpt from the story:
Gerard finds him on Monday despite Frank's best attempts at hiding. After his shitty-ass weekend filled with continuous and humiliating replays of Things He Could Have Done Differently On Friday Night, Frank wants nothing more than to be left alone, but there Gerard is, sitting cozy by Frank's closet.
Frank curses under his breath and slows to a crawl, but it's only a few steps to bring him up to Gerard, slumped against the closet door, sketchpad looking abandoned on his lap.
Gerard just watches him and doesn't make any attempts to get up or anything. Frank has no idea what he wants – to demand what the fuck happened, to tell Frank he's a hopeless loser, or what?
"What?"
Gerard's eyebrows twitch together and he slowly unfolds, slightly awkward as he clamors up, losing his sketchbook along the way. It's definitely less awkward once he's up, because he's a lot closer now, really too close, and he's looking down at Frank with a concerned look that makes Frank's mom's concerned looks seem disinterested in comparison.
"Why'd you run away?" Gerard asks, and his voice is low and, like, intimate. His breath is kind of sour and warm and Frank feels it scatter down all the way down to his toes. He steps away quickly.
"I didn't fucking run," he shrugs, except he totally fucking did. "I just. I had to get home, that's all."
Gerard's face is a study in cynicism as he chews his lip, but then he shrugs and steps away. "Okay. Wanna have lunch?"
Frank can't help cracking up a bit, because sure, why not. Gerard isn't exactly giving him a choice in the matter, being all up in his space like that. Frank shakes his head as he rattles the lock, his belly roiling in something akin to relief. "C'mon in."
Gerard fumbles to pick up his sketchbook and bag and slips in after Frank. Once they're settled in on the floor, Frank is feeling almost comfortable again, because lunch in this closet is a hell of a lot safer than accidental stripping in his room or drunken almost-slumber parties at Gerard's.
"So, uh, you should, like, pick a movie next time. And we should plan in advance. The guys totally want to have another viewing thing with you, but maybe you could, like, stay?" Gerard is mumbling all of it not at Frank but at his sketchbook, his pencil scratching softly over the page, and Frank freezes.
The closet seems even narrower with another person in there, and hotter, too. His collar is rubbing at his neck and he tugs on it, but it's like trying to loosen iron. He doesn't answer and he can sort of feel the silence extending into a million years, even though it's probably barely even a minute. Gerard doesn't look at him, but Frank can practically see his ears twitching under all that hair.
He knows he has to answer. It's just another get-together, not even a party or anything, what the fuck is the big deal, he tries to tell himself, except that he knows. And Gerard doesn't.
And then he thinks back to his weekend of lying around on his bed, watching the ceiling fan swirl and counting the shadows, fucking around on his guitar and avoiding his mom's questioning looks. And he thinks about all the past weekends, too, the ones where he'd done all his homework out of desperation, and trolled through every porn site he could find until he reached what felt like the end of the internet. And he fucking hates those porn sites.
"Sure, I'll, uhm. I'll think about it," he finally answers.
Gerard just nods, and in the shadows of their space, Frank spots the tiny way in which Gerard's lips lift at his answer.
Run
Pairing: Gerard/Frank
Length: 63,490 words
Author on LJ:
mrsronweasleyAuthor Website: Fic Masterlist.
Why this must be read: Being a secret teenage werewolf is hard. Frank should know. He is one.
This is an absolutely fabulous story. It's got one of the best Frank characterisations I've ever read and the way his and Gerard's relationship grows and changes throughout the story had me completely captivated. There's a lot of sex in this story and it's all scorchingly hot, but it's the way it's used to further the plot and character development that really made me love it. Well-written porn is always awesome of course, but it's so much better when it's an integrated part of a great story like this.
Excerpt from the story:
Gerard finds him on Monday despite Frank's best attempts at hiding. After his shitty-ass weekend filled with continuous and humiliating replays of Things He Could Have Done Differently On Friday Night, Frank wants nothing more than to be left alone, but there Gerard is, sitting cozy by Frank's closet.
Frank curses under his breath and slows to a crawl, but it's only a few steps to bring him up to Gerard, slumped against the closet door, sketchpad looking abandoned on his lap.
Gerard just watches him and doesn't make any attempts to get up or anything. Frank has no idea what he wants – to demand what the fuck happened, to tell Frank he's a hopeless loser, or what?
"What?"
Gerard's eyebrows twitch together and he slowly unfolds, slightly awkward as he clamors up, losing his sketchbook along the way. It's definitely less awkward once he's up, because he's a lot closer now, really too close, and he's looking down at Frank with a concerned look that makes Frank's mom's concerned looks seem disinterested in comparison.
"Why'd you run away?" Gerard asks, and his voice is low and, like, intimate. His breath is kind of sour and warm and Frank feels it scatter down all the way down to his toes. He steps away quickly.
"I didn't fucking run," he shrugs, except he totally fucking did. "I just. I had to get home, that's all."
Gerard's face is a study in cynicism as he chews his lip, but then he shrugs and steps away. "Okay. Wanna have lunch?"
Frank can't help cracking up a bit, because sure, why not. Gerard isn't exactly giving him a choice in the matter, being all up in his space like that. Frank shakes his head as he rattles the lock, his belly roiling in something akin to relief. "C'mon in."
Gerard fumbles to pick up his sketchbook and bag and slips in after Frank. Once they're settled in on the floor, Frank is feeling almost comfortable again, because lunch in this closet is a hell of a lot safer than accidental stripping in his room or drunken almost-slumber parties at Gerard's.
"So, uh, you should, like, pick a movie next time. And we should plan in advance. The guys totally want to have another viewing thing with you, but maybe you could, like, stay?" Gerard is mumbling all of it not at Frank but at his sketchbook, his pencil scratching softly over the page, and Frank freezes.
The closet seems even narrower with another person in there, and hotter, too. His collar is rubbing at his neck and he tugs on it, but it's like trying to loosen iron. He doesn't answer and he can sort of feel the silence extending into a million years, even though it's probably barely even a minute. Gerard doesn't look at him, but Frank can practically see his ears twitching under all that hair.
He knows he has to answer. It's just another get-together, not even a party or anything, what the fuck is the big deal, he tries to tell himself, except that he knows. And Gerard doesn't.
And then he thinks back to his weekend of lying around on his bed, watching the ceiling fan swirl and counting the shadows, fucking around on his guitar and avoiding his mom's questioning looks. And he thinks about all the past weekends, too, the ones where he'd done all his homework out of desperation, and trolled through every porn site he could find until he reached what felt like the end of the internet. And he fucking hates those porn sites.
"Sure, I'll, uhm. I'll think about it," he finally answers.
Gerard just nods, and in the shadows of their space, Frank spots the tiny way in which Gerard's lips lift at his answer.
Run