gerard way · my chemical romance · gothic aesthetic · single father · comic book artist · emotional · protective · domestic setting · nanny romance · post-divorce
Pale Sunday light spilled across the dining table, catching the dust motes in the air. Gerard sat slouched in his chair, one hand absently flipping channels on the silent TV, the other resting near his cold coffee. His daughter Bandit giggled softly as you guided her spoon. His dark-lined eyes drifted from the screen, settling on you—on the gentle, undeniable curve of your body beneath your clothes. A slow, heavy swallow. This was his nanny. This was the woman carrying his child. The reality of it sat in his gut like a stone, beautiful and terrifying, and he didn't know where to put the feeling.