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cicidarkarts · 1 year

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Blood Defied - 4: Thestrals

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Dear Credence,

It's good you're keeping up with your studies and making friends. I’m a little lonely back home, but I'm getting better every day. I hope you are, too. Sorry for the delayed response. I'm trying to be better, but everything that happened is weighing on my mind. I still love you, I just need time.

Love, Mom

Credence felt her sorrow seep out of her eyes, prickling the corners of her vision. Thank goodness Fran had left to meet up with friends so no one had to see or hear her. She put the letter back in its envelope and smacked it onto her desk. Rubbing her eyes clean, she headed out for the day.

The part of her that wanted to jog to Professor Howin’s assignment had been hampered by that letter. As the pep in her step had gone—leaving her in a mood just as cloudy and grey as the weather—she tried to enjoy her novel. The words jumbled up and her mind wandered again; she put her novel away in her enchanted satchel. Instead, she turned her eyes to the sights of the grand old castle.

She observed tapestries as she passed and counted the trees outside of the window, which quieted her mind a little. While heading for her destination, she drew closer to the melodic sound of a violin from the music classroom. She didn't realize there were any classes on Sundays.

The somber sound brought together her mood and the rain in a therapeutic calm. Each note took away a little more of her pain. The violin sent goosebumps along her arms as she listened to the musician's own pain made into art. Whoever played it, she thought, had to be a tormented but talented and insightful soul. As she passed the classroom, she peaked inside to catch a glimpse.

Ominis drew the bow across the strings. He had no music sheet. Instead, he felt the melody and released his emotion in every note. Credence had to keep watching. She felt unable to pull her gaze away as her mind begged to be part of this art, even as just an observer. Its melancholic tone invoked memories of her past, tugging her deeper into his own childhood. Though she knew very little of his past, she felt she knew everything she needed to in that moment.

His song came to an end in the otherwise empty classroom. Despite his back to her, he said,

"Hello, Credence." "Hi, um… Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt." He turned toward her with a soft, enchanting smile. "You didn't. I don't mind an audience. Did you enjoy it?" "I loved it, Ominis. It was beautiful." His cheeks turned pink, highlighting the dark flecks of beauty marks across his face. "Thank you. I didn't really have a plan for that one. I'm pleased it turned out okay.” “Oh, it was more than okay. You’re very talented.” “I was going to have a break, but I could play more if you'd like."

A scene hit her imagination. Ominis stood dressed in regal and dark clothes, bathed in the light of a hundred candles as he played his gorgeous songs; her sitting near him, wearing a dress she could never afford, relaxing as he serenaded her. She had to shake that fantasy away before she got too lost in it.

"I would really love that," she said, "but we'll have to some other time. I have to do my assignment for Professor Howin." "Oh?" he asked, putting his violin back in its case. "What's the assignment?" "I'm helping her care for the thestrals. I volunteered for it—actually, I was the only one who did. The only other guy who can see them was too afraid. I don't understand that. Thestrals are incredible." "They are. And very misunderstood." "Can you see thestrals?" "Cree, I can't see anything." "Oh," she said, looking away and fiddling with a lock of hair. "Right. Sorry." "Don’t worry about it,” he said, chuckling. “Would you mind if I joined you?" "Not at all."

He walked beside her, his wand out as they went. She told him more about her assignment—the names of the thestrals, the new mother and the foal she helped deliver, and being the only one besides Howin who seemed to care.

Ominis listened, his head turning to her occasionally but overall he faced forward. When she looked at him, she held a whole new appreciation for his strong, confident profile and his gentle smile. She pretended like her previous fantasy had never existed, even as she counted the beauty marks that dotted his pale skin. Seven…

When she finished her counting, her face warmed and she looked away, all while trying to continue her thestral tales as normal. Luckily, the field of thestrals wasn’t too far, and they came upon it just past the beast classroom. The school thestrals rested in their stables and wandered the field, grazing and playing and stretching their wings.

One of them saw Credence, snorted and shook, then ran over while kicking the air.

“Hey, girl!” Credence patted her bony face. “This one is Cleo. Cleo, this is Ominis.”

Cleo observed Ominis briefly, but returned to nuzzling Credence. Other thestrals converged upon them, some trotting, others flying, and still a few acting like they didn’t care by meandering nearer and eating grass. Credence pointed them all out by name. One male, Knight, strode up to them and leaned over Ominis' shoulder. Ominis went to pet him.

"Knight," Credence scolded, "don't you dare. Careful with him, he's a nippy little thing." Ominis pulled his hand back. "Good to know."

Knight nipped Ominis' vest, to which Credence Accio'd a piece of Knight's favorite fruit from the trough and tossed it.

"Go on, get the peach, you menace." Ominis straightened out his vest. "Ornery, isn't he?" "Knight thinks he's a big shot," she said, watching Knight chase down the peach and swallow it whole. "He's our only troublemaker, luckily. Everyone else is really sweet. Speaking of, I should check on our newest thestral. Her and Mom are probably in the stables."

In the confines of the stables, where the sunlight barely penetrated, Mom and foal laid together rested in shade and serenity. The suckling noises of the foal nursing filled the room.

She whispered, "The Mom's Ellis, and the foal is Jane." “Sounds like we’re interrupting feeding time.”

Ellis lifted her head and watched Ominis. Her wings fluttered, the wind from which shook the air.

"Yeah, Ellis is mad,” she said to him, then, still calm and reassuring but a little louder, she spoke to Ellis. “You're all right, girl, we're going to leave. Just wanted to make sure Jane is okay."

She took Ominis out of the stable.

“Is Jane all right?” he asked. “You seem worried.” “She was born premature. She’s been weak for a while. I had to hand-feed her for the first few weeks. I’ve had a lot of hands-on time with Jane and Ellis. It’s why Ellis doesn’t mind me at all, but she was probably protecting Jane from you.” “That’s very sweet. She’s just being a good mother.”

Credence soon got to work on her various chores. She cleaned out the trough and watering buckets, Accio'd food from the beasts classroom, and almost dragged buckets of water by hand across the field.

"You can just use Wingardium Leviosa," Ominis said. "You can just use Shutupicus Maximus." "Really got me there."

Ominis helped by keeping nosy thestrals busy through pets and play with one of their beaten down quaffles. This gave Credence breathing room to go quietly into the stables and replace old hay without everyone rushing in and enraging Ellis.

By the time all was done and sweat dripped down her face, Credence plopped onto the ground and was promptly cuddled by Thorium, one of the biggest thestrals.

Ominis sat with them, glistening in a little sweat, hardly mussed at all. Only a few locks of hair fell out of place, giving him the most refined disheveled appearance she'd ever seen. She took note of another beauty mark, sitting high upon the apple of his right cheek. Biting her lip, she looked away, back at Thorium's content expression as he laid his head in her lap.

"That one seems to like you," Ominis said. "Thor loves women. Howin thinks he was abused by men. It took Thor a long time to get comfortable with them, and he doesn’t hate men, but he really loves women.” “That’s so wrong, how people mistreat others who can’t stand up for themselves.” “I agree. That’s why I chose to keep going with my beast studies— Knight!”

Knight came up behind her and nipped at her hair. She shoved his face away and he tried to nibble her hands. He trotted over to sniff Ominis—who recoiled—then walked away without nipping.

“Oh, I see,” Cree said. “You hate me.” “You’d think he’d hate me. I just got here.”

A well-fed Jane and her exhausted mother exited the stables. Jane galloped about as her mother ate and drank her fill, but the foal’s frail legs couldn’t carry her for too long. She wandered up to Ominis and sniffed at him.

“And this one is…” he hesitated, then patted her face. “Seems small. Jane?” “Yep. I think she likes you. Really, Jane? After all we’ve been through. Guess I’m the stable punching bag.”

Jane curled up against Ominis, her head in his lap. Seeing his face light up was worth the relegation to punching bag, but she teased anyway.

“What do you got that I ain’t?” “Better vocabulary,” he said. “No, no, I think it’s your posh accent. Very calming for the animals.” He scoffed. “This isn’t posh. I can show you posh.” “You play the violin, how much more posh can you get?” “I will not stand for this violin slander.”

They both laughed as he tenderly stroked the foal. Jane’s eyes fluttered closed as she relaxed to sleep. In the peace of the sun and nature, fresh fantasies of Ominis playing the violin for her crept into Credence’s mind. It proved difficult to be distracted from this topic while in the serenity of the green grove, infatuating her with the idea.

"How long have you been playing the violin?" she asked. "Ever since I was a child. Mum wanted me to play the piano, but it was difficult for me to get a grasp on all of the keys, so I picked up the violin instead. I've loved it ever since, but Mum is pretty cross about it." "She should be happy with your talent. Why would she be so hellbent on you playing the piano?" "The piano is very popular. She was hoping I'd be a blind prodigy and make a fortune off it, but I also think she’s just upset that I didn’t do exactly what she wanted of me. Thankfully, I don't give a niffler's arse what my mum thinks. I love the violin, but it's just a hobby; I don't have big dreams about playing in an orchestra or anything." "What do you want to do?" "Settle down in a small place and live simply. Get a local job and pretend that I'm not a Gaunt." "Nothing wrong with simple living. It sounds nice. Well, aside from the dysfunctional family part." "Dysfunctional is too kind a word, and not one I'd use. But what about you?" "I want to be a magivet. I'd love to work with beasts, especially ones like thestrals, snakes, wolves, bats—the misunderstood animals. I mean, I'd work on any animal, but I love misunderstood ones the most. I wish there was a specialty for that. Sinister magivet: come bring all your ominous animals to me and I can heal them, probably." "I think you’ll have to come up with a better tagline." "I'm not smart enough to come up with a better tagline." "Not smart enough? You're literally a Ravenclaw." "Yeah, but I'm the dumbest Ravenclaw."

Ominis burst out into a loud cackle, making Jane shoot up and gallop away. He laughed so hard that he wheezed.

"Holy shit," Credence squeaked, voice high-pitched from holding down her laughter. "I've never heard you laugh like that!" "I just wasn't expecting—!"

He slapped a hand over his mouth, trying to calm down. His other hand wiped a tear from his eye.

"My God," he said, breathless, "that dumbest Ravenclaw comment caught me off guard. I haven't laughed that hard in years."

Their hyena cackling died down and they caught their breaths. She watched the patterns of his beauty marks change as his broad grin crinkled them. There was something enthralling about his laughter, though she frowned at his words. She guessed it made sense, given his tumultuous relationship with his family from what little she heard, and she wondered how deep the scars went.

"It's been a long time since I've laughed like that, too," she said. "Things are finally looking up, now that Mom and I moved here." "How is your mum?" "Standoffish at best. She's been through a lot." "So have you." "Yeah, I guess so,” she acquiesced, fiddling with a blade of grass. “But I'm trying to be understanding. She's a good mom. Nothing like yours from what I heard." "Thank God. I wouldn't wish my mother on my worst enemy." She giggled. "I wouldn't wish your mother on my worst enemy, either. No, my mom is kind, maybe a bit of a pushover. It's how we got into this situation to begin with. If she had put her foot down about my dad not uprooting our whole family to chase gold, maybe we'd all still be together." "I'm sorry, Cree. I didn't realize your father had…" "Oh, right. Yeah, my father and older brother both died in the wars. My mom and I almost did, too, until—"

She fiddled with a pebble and patted a passing thestral. It had been a few months since she last thought of that: the bright light, the adrenaline pulsing, the fear hardening her heart to conjure such terrible things in the heat of the moment. Yet, she reminded, without her actions, she and her mother would be dead.

"We've all got secrets," said Ominis. "I won't make you tell me if you don't want to." "Yeah… Maybe someday. Maybe a different secret. But not this one, and not right now."

He smiled at her, a sort of somber expression with upturned brows. He scooted closer to set his hand on her knee.

"When that day comes,” he said, voice soft, “I want to tell you some of mine, too." She caressed his hand. "I'd really like that."

Later that night, Credence headed into her dorm to study. She sat upon the second level, surrounded by pillows, books, quills, and parchment. The cozy atmosphere and pleasant thoughts of the day had her speed-reading and flipping pages with ease. She was interrupted by Fran, her frizzy-haired roommate who'd returned from Quidditch practice. Fran gazed around the brightly lit room, then caught sight of Credence and smiled.

"Hey there, stranger," she said, lumbering to her bed. "Hey, Fran." Fran flopped across the mattress and let out a tired sigh. "What do you look so happy about?" "I just had a really nice day, that's all." "Ooh, it's a boy, isn't it?" She sat up, waggling her brows. Noting Credence's heating face, Fran continued, "Did you maybe have a date with Sebastian Sallow? You guys had that assignment together and you always sit with him at meals. He's very handsome, you lucky gal." "It wasn't Sebastian. I spent time with Ominis." Fran's brow furrowed hard. "You went out with Ominis Gaunt?" "Um, yeah?" "Oh, you poor sweet girl. You really don't know anything about that, do you?" "About what?" "The Gaunt family. They're a scary bunch. They hate Muggles and Muggle-borns like yourself. I've heard they'll torture and kill them just for fun. Direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin—you know, one of the founders? Hated Muggle-borns, he did. Wanted to oust everyone that wasn't a pureblood."

Credence slammed her book shut. She glared at Fran, who still looked upon her with pursed lips that felt oddly condescending. Prepared to set the record straight, Credence proclaimed,

"Ominis isn't like that. He hates blood supremacy." "Is that what he told you? I dunno, Credence. Maybe it's true, but you don't know him. You don't know what he's capable of." "Yeah? Well, you don't know him, either. Ominis is sweet and gentle. You don't know what you're talking about." "You have no idea what the Gaunt family is like. They're a bunch of inbred psychopaths, even more than most pureblood families because they put so much stock in being Slytherin's descendants. I'm just nervous for you, is all. Anyone will tell you not to get close to someone from the Gaunt family, except maybe other pureblood supremacists like Melodria Malfoy or Regalian Black." "I'll figure it out for myself, Fran. Ominis has been nothing but kind to me. I'm not afraid of him." Fran shrugged. "Fine, whatever you say. I gotta head to bed. Gotta get up early tomorrow. Just… Stay safe, okay?"

Fran shut her curtains, leaving Credence to mull over the day's events. People really thought Ominis was like that? She frowned, tapping her open book. He was so quiet, tender, and understanding. The Gaunt family did chill her to her core, from what little she'd heard—even things straight from Ominis' mouth. But she'd seen the darkest parts of humanity, and she wasn't going to let it keep getting in her way.

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nemo-of-house-hamartia · 2 years

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Snippet Sunday!

(Borrowing the idea of Sunday Snippet from @tkwritesdumbassassins)

So.

It's been a while since I shared anything written. And because I am feeling all sorts of feeling for my FFXII bebes I decided to share just a tiny fragment of the story I wrote, so many years ago. As you will see, the writing is not perfect in any way, because I was very young when I wrote this, but I am still so proud of it. So forgive the mistakes.

You could ask, "Why not edit before showing it?"

the reason is that I want to offer you all a sneak peek of what I used to do when I was younger, much like when I share those photos of my old artworks. I don't know if I will ever share the whole story. I don't want to run the risk of what happened with Dorothea also befalling my Nabyrie. I don't mind talking about her, but I don't know if I want to share the whole story. I don't know, I will see how I feel.

So, for the moment, I will share this small snippet.

For context, this takes place VERY AHEAD in the story, in Book 2: "The Blue Yonder", where Nabyrie is already Empress of the Archadian Empire and she went through a lot already.

So, here you have it.

I hope you will like this (Please, do read under the cut).

Tale of two Empires - Book 2: The Blue Yonder

Nabyrie was sitting underneath a tree, just a few yards away from the place where the Strahl was anchored. She was still wearing the thin dress she had in Archades, and was grateful to Fran for giving her a much warmer shawl to drape on her shoulders. The air was chilling on the Island of the Lost, and goosebumps were all over her arms. Absorbed in her thoughts, she was contemplating the blue of the sky above, so similar to the view she had from her room when she was a younger girl. She couldn’t help herself and thought about how much it differed from the sky in Archades. There was truly something prepossessing in the sky over the Purvama Regions, a sight like there wasn’t anywhere else in Ivalice.

When she was a child, she often found herself wondering if the intensity of the blue was somehow influenced by the magicite nestled inside the rock of the Floating Continents.

Suddenly, she heard steps approaching her, and turned her face toward whoever was coming. Balthier’s eyes met hers, and she couldn’t help but blush when looking at him. Now that the shock of seeing him again had worn off, she took the chance of examining his face more carefully: he was still the same handsome skypirate she knew, she noticed, but a few wrinkles formed around his eyes, giving him a perpetually tired expression. Those eyes, however, were warmer, kinder than she used to remember.

-So.. -he started -..how shall I address you, now? I presume “Lady Bug” is not suitable enough at present, seeing how high you have risen, Your Imperial Highness.

His voice was gentle, soft even. There was none of the pungency nor the anger she remembered and associated to him.

Feeling her cheeks burning, but trying to maintain an immovable face, she searched for a witty answer, but couldn’t find any. She rose from the fresh grass, standing as straight and dignified as she could.

-You know there is no need for such formalities, Balthier.

-Once, maybe, when you were just a little bee buzzing in my ears - he answered, not unkindly. -But those days are long lost, I’m afraid.

There was an edge of melancholy in his words, she couldn’t help but notice.

-Is that why you called me Lady Bug? -

-Yes. You were always chatting in my ears, as excited as a little bee around a blossoming flower. You were kind of an annoying young Lady, back then. -

Nabyrie bowed her head gracefully, in acknowledgment of his words, as if he meant them as a compliment, not letting them sink deeper than her skin. He was still unpleaseant with her, and that wounded her more than she liked.

-I think my Lord Husband can vouch for me now, and assure you that I am most silent nowadays. - she replied, cold but graciously, moving away from her tree and putting more distance between the two of them. -Might I ask what your intentions are, perchance? As you remember, kidnapping royalties is a serious offence, and kidnapping the Empress of the Archadian Empire even more so. As Fran was kind enough to inform me, it has already been two days since you seized me, and I doubt my Lord Husband hasn’t noticed my absence. -

Her tone was grave, her eyes void of emotions, with no hint of the playfulness she used to have when she was younger.

Balthier would not answer her immediately. His face was inscrutable, a pool of still water, and didn’t give hint of his feelings, but he was taken aback by how much she changed during the years. She had grown more graceful and poised, that was certain, comelier even, but there was an hollowness in her, where before there were laughters and joy.

-My intents are simple enough, Your Highness. - he said, putting an harsh emphasis on her title - It is my will to take the most precious treasure of the Archadian Empire, the dearest possession the Emperor owns, and conceal it from the rest of the world; it is my will to never return it to Archades, and I truly couldn’t care less if the world would fall in an large-scale war because of my actions.-

Nabyrie raised her eyebrows, surprised.

-If those were your purposes, to what end, pray, kidnapping me? Causing the Emperor’s ire would not make your task any easier nor more successful. The Judges will be on your trail soon enough, not counting my father’s army as well, and you will be most likely sentenced to death for daring such an affront toward the Empire. Even if I interceded with the Emperor himself, you would not go unpunished, and a life sentence to Nalbina Dungeons will soon befall on your head. -

Balthier looked her square in the eyes, moving a few steps toward her, his arms resting along his body, his fingers flexing, as if he couldn’t stop them to move.

-All you said is certainly true. If I ever take a step outside this place with you, I would be certainly sentenced and lose my life, or worse, my freedom. But what if the Emperor’s treasure wasn’t his to begin with? What if I’m just taking back something that once was meant to be mine? Something that I never claimed, but was I know, deep within, was supposed to be with at my side the whole time? -

Even more confused, Nabyrie couldn’t quite comprehend what he meant. She searched in her mind among all the riches her husband had, but couldn’t find any that might have once belonged to Balthier.

-How could it be? What could Larsa possess that once belonged to you? - asked, while he stopped right in front of her.

He kept gazing in her eyes, still as a statue.

-You. - He murmured, his voice serious yet full of resolve.

Her heart skipped one beat, her face whitened like curlded milk, the air went out of her chest as if someone had punched her right in the stomach. She couldn’t quite believe what she just heard.

-Me? - she asked, her voice chocking, shaking her head in disbelief - No. This cannot be possible. How? Since when? You always disliked me. You always treated me as if I was only an annoyance to you, and kept me at arm’s distance. I’ve never received anything but contempt from you.

His fingers twiched, and she noticed that his hands were trembling. He rose them, hesitant on what to do; they found their way on her cheeks, a touch as gentle as a butterfly’s wing.

Again, he was staring at her, his lovely hazel eyes so focused as if he wanted to held her next to him by sheer willpower.

-You were a nuisance to me, Lady Bug, there is no questioning it. You were the annoying Lady Nabyrie Alyja Ondore, only daughter to Halim Ondore IV and heir to the Stewardship of Bhujerba, and not Mira, the sweet, honest and spontaneous girl I first met in Rabanastre.

His hands, still trembling, traced the line of her nose, of her cheeks, touching every freckles that spotted her skin. Nabyrie felt her eyes swelling with tears, her mask of impassibility crumbling without her being able to recompose herself.

-When Princess Ashe revealed to us your true identity, you were not someone I could just open my heart to and be with anymore. - he kept murmuring, his heart beating faster than ever in his life.

-You had a place in a world where I didn’t belong and couldn’t fit even if I tried to. I saw how close you and I were growing to be, day after day; how your eyes would shine when trying to talk to me and how happy I was when you were next to me and returned one of my smiles. I had to stop it, to break it before what we felt for each other became too deep to turn back…but I’m afraid I wasn’t rapid enough. -

Abruptly, Nabyrie turned her face to her side and detached from his touch, her eyes wide open from disbelief. Speechless, she felt a chasm opening in her heart, and couldn’t stop her knees from trembling. Balthier was taken aback by her reaction, and put his arms back along his body.

-I wish I have known about this a long time ago. - She tightened her arms, embracing herself, feeling as if she could fall apart any moment. – I..I cannot bear this truth. Not after spending all this time convincing myself that you loathed me so much that there was no possibility for my sentiment to be reciprocated. -

Nabyrie glanced Balthier, unable to mask the torment on her face any longer.

-I...I need a moment. Do forgive me, Balthier. -

And without waiting for his leave, she turned away, walking toward the blue forest surrounding the clearing where the Strahl was anchored to the ground, looking for a secluded place, far away from the skypirate.

With his heart breaking at every beat, Balthier backed away inside his airship, now doubting his decisions, not knowing if, by opening his heart to her –The Empress of Archades, not the carefree girl he loved- he made the biggest mistake of his life.

--Nemo

#Nemo Writes #Final Fantasy XII #The Blue Yonder #Nabyrie Ondore #balthier

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nicetrynicetry · 2 months

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170

Sunday and I’m not sad to be away from the studio. In the yard, it is not the lord’s day, it is buy substandard coke and scream at women from your past day. Instead I journey to Pimlico to eat a banana and drink juice alone before meeting my mum at Tate Britain. It is sunny, there is some kind of rollerblading marathon happening, and I am open to having my mind changed about Singer Sargent’s paintings. To enter Tate Britain from the Pimlico side you have to walk past Chelsea College of Arts which makes me wince with the memory of applying to art schools in 2011. Heaving a portfolio onto the tube at rush hour to argue one’s merits. I never even applied to Chelsea, but these institutions have an aura in common. You could not pay me to relive that uncertain time again, nor the couple of years before. C reminded me recently that when we all went drinking in Soho as teenagers he took note of my body mass index and made the bartender secretly leave the alcohol out of all my beverages but one. “I reverse spiked you”, he said. C understood what was good for me long before I did, but somehow never acted on it condescendingly, and it’s why we love him

Singer Sargent is good, though a little less impressive than your Goya or your Frans Hals that preceded him by over 200 years. When I’m at a museum I like to feel overwhelmed by the sheer amount of time held in a painting, and therefore confused by the parts of the painting that feel contemporary. I love that chronological whiplash. And truthfully Singer Sargent’s Victorian era just doesn’t seem so long ago, and he doesn’t seem to have improved on anything that Hals or Goya started. He was also thought to be gay, but the paintings aren’t gay enough. The gayest parts of the exhibit are Max Beerbohm’s brutally flamboyant cartoons of Sargent. Those, and his neighbour being Oscar Wilde. Frans Hals is gayer and creepier and funnier. Goya is straighter and funnier but more mentally ill. I want Sargent paintings with the people taken out, just soft furnishings and decorative urns and pointless drapery. I would chalk it up to an aversion to British artists, but I love Francis Bacon (the most gay and violent and mentally ill). My grandmother enjoys Singer Sargent but hates Bacon, and I love her a little less because of it

We leave and have tea and we talk about compound interest and dating apps. We talk about cheap people. Mum reminds me of the brief weird period where my aunt on my dad’s side dated my uncle on my mum’s side, and when they went back to my uncle’s house for lunch he had half a carton of Covent Garden soup in the fridge that he watered down to make for two. I flick through some photos from LA and explain the Cybertruck. We walk across Vauxhall bridge and look at the apartment that P wrote about in the New Yorker, where teenager Zac Brettler mysteriously jumped to his death. We look at the MI6 building and all the other luxury penthouses erected for nobody to live in. I take a loud stuffy train home and watch two Financial Audit videos, hosted by a YouTuber who gives money advice to young people with debt. For instance, one woman on the show gets payday loans in order to shop at Whole Foods, that type of thing. I guess the ideal takeaway from these videos is sound financial advice, but I suspect people watch because it’s a horror show they cannot look away from. It’s not about APR. It’s about one’s bank statements seeing the light of day being worse than getting pantsed on a live stream. It’s debt porn, it’s schadenfreude, it’s humiliation fetish. Or maybe it’s genuinely saving lives and I’m just a monster I don’t know

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dayquercus · 2 years

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‘Wonderful Wonderful’ seashells as the Killers (but Run For Cover is the song). how do you find them? “luck”, one said. us lot making wooden spoons on the farm .. camp fire boiling kettles snacks fresh milk from cow-girls (thank you!). white sheep black lamb adorable creatures (no lamb for me - only for hugs & giggles & looking) .. ash bleeding. peacock wailing. treehouse talking. Sunday Stockbridge Market! x2 (Fran~ laughters hahha we sat for the seafood paella! gigantic pots! talked about boys study work jobs future plans travel tooth family ect.) i had a great time too. appreciations at the end.

me & cheese (oo cheese blocks of cheese ….. loook at those forms, could imagine the taste - white goat’s milk) .. have to remember you lots names! (soft, creamy, and layers of something something) holes like my pores ..

but it doesn’t matter where are you from or how mature you are, worth tasting. what’s the name of that blue shrub?

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qvid-pro-qvo · 3 years

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family

it is a semi-tradition on this blog that the birthdays of the bau besties that come across my feed i must celebrate with a little fic. <3 happy birthday, derek morgan. we love you! derek morgan x gender neutral reader.

word count: 1189

rating: e for everyone. all fluff and adoration for the birthday boy!

when you get the text, your phone not even buzzing to keep it hidden, that's when you know it's time.

"i do have... one birthday surprise for you," you say to derek, hand tangling in his loose enough that your thumb can stroke his skin.

it had been a long and lazy day, or at least as lazy as you both could make it. you weren't ones to sit around all day, and mornings on weekends were dedicated to derek's restoration projects, but sundays were forbidden to the outside world unless absolutely necessary. that meant that no work calls were taken (only work texts if either of you were needed), and a journey to the dog park with clooney was met with just enough sun to make you sweat. no rushing around allowed.

but at the mention of surprise, derek lets out a little groan. "baby..."

you can't help your chuckle. "derek," you return, in the same tone, reaching to trace your free hand's fingers over his jaw. his eyes are closed from lightly dozing, and the lights from the kitchen make his lashes shine.

"we said no surprises," derek says, his voice a little sing-songy.

you groan a little, leaning against him. "i know, but it's not a big... material gift." your words are chosen carefully.

"but we said - "

"i know what we said," you whisper. you decide convincing has to go another route. you press a kiss to his cheek, another one against his jaw, making him smirk. you continue them lightly down his neck, until he has to squirm and sit up fully.

one eye opens.

"only one?" he asks. you're pressed against his side, so he doesn't have to turn his head to get a full and lingering look that makes your stomach erupt into butterflies.

"one, but it is big," you admit. a kiss against his hand seals the promise. "and i'd apologize, but i do think you'll enjoy it. so. trust?"

he does. you can tell because of the smile that lights up his face, close-lipped but warm as his hand squeezes more firmly around yours.

"okay. fine. what's the surprise?"

"you have to close your eyes."

"what?"

your hand pulls from his so you can cross your arms over his chest. "yes, close them, derek morgan, or i'll make you close them."

that makes him roll his eyes and he can't help his little laugh, shaking his head and raising his eyebrows with a smirk. one hand moves to settle behind his head, rubbing at his scalp. his other hand goes up in surrender. "okay. okay. you're lucky i love you."

but you're already stood, moving to the door. "the luckiest," you call out. "no peeking!"

the door opens as quietly as you can manage, but you see derek tense a little when he hears the hinges. you do your best to cover up the sound of multiple pairs of feet coming over to gather up by the couch.

"baby..." it's a little warning, but you manage to go back to him to squeeze his hand.

"derek," you warn. "no peeking."

he doesn't. but the longer it takes to settle the offered cake on the coffee table and close the door, the more he fidgets.

he says your name with a hint of frustration. "i can hear you moving around. who's coming in?"

"just five more seconds!" you beg, and then everyone is in place, lighter in your hand. "okay! open your eyes!"

when he does, it's only one, peeking out with more than a hint of trepidation. and then his whole face goes slack, mouth falling open and eyes wide as fran, desiree, and sarah morgan grinning back at him.

"no," he breathes. but his grin starts to stretch across his features, and his eyes narrow as he tries to determine the mystery of how his mother and sisters ended up in front of him in virginia.

"happy birthday to ya," they start singing, and you get to work on the candles with unstoppable laughter at the look on his face. they start flickering and shining as you work your way through all of them, and his family sings at him as he looks up in shock. "happy birthday to ya! happy birthday!"

"so this is why you haven't called me all day," derek shouts, accusing and pointing a finger at each of his sisters and mother in turn. "flying out from chicago, are you kidding me?"

"anything for our baby brother," desiree teases and flopping next to him on the couch, which earns her an indignant shout.

"i am older than you!"

sarah laughs and goes to flop on his other side. "don't blame us for this. this was mom's idea."

fran just offers a shrug, moving to stand next to you and hook her arm through yours. “well. mine and this one. someone was very kind of enough to pay for flights and offer us a very nice hotel.”

derek’s eyes move from scanning his family’s faces to you. there’s a moment where you feel self-conscious, lifting your fingers to rub at your own shoulder and neck.

"it was mainly your mom," you offer, and derek looks at you with something like... overwhelming adoration, something you know by now is love.

"all for my birthday," he whispers, and he knows it's true. it's a mere moment before he's lifting from the couch, sarah and desiree falling into each other with little laughs as he goes to take the hand with the cake knife in it. your fingers place the sharp object carefully down before he fully takes your hand again, tight and firm.

you can't really say anything. you're staring up into derek's eyes with a little smile, feeling the way he scans you again, just like he did before. like he needs to take in every part of you, wants to remember what this moment looks like on your face just as much as you want to memorize the soft shine in brown eyes that could start a fire with their warmth.

"of course for your birthday," you offer him, and when he kisses you it's perfect and deep and met with that same joyful swoop of your stomach. it goes on for a bit too long, if derek’s sisters’ identical groans sounding off tell you anything.

"can you two stop?" desiree shouts. "i want to eat my cake." you both pull apart with matching grins, and he refuses to lose his grip on you just as his mother's tightens on you as well.

fran's voice is firm. "desiree. go get some plates and treat your brother nice on his birthday."

"yeah, hear that? treat the baby boy nice on his birthday," derek shoots back, making sarah laugh again.

"right. like we'd ever do that."

but no matter the words that are laughed and shared, the smearing of frosting on cheeks and shirts and laughter for the day, he never lets go of you. the one who made this birthday, and every one after, ones with his family, and ones to remember for the rest of his life.

taglist: @duchesschameleon // @winterscaptain // @writefasttalkevenfaster // @hurricanejjareau // @hotchseyebrows // @ssaic-jareau // @1234-angelika // @wanniiieeee // @arianmock13-blog // @averyhotchner // @barbasbodaciousbeard // @xxlovingfandomsxx // @mad-girl-without-a-box // @itsgrishamagic // @joanofarkansass // @aayaissaa // @prettypyschoinpink // @andreasworlsboring101

#my fic #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan #gender neutral reader #criminal minds #fran morgan #desiree morgan #sarah morgan #criminal minds fanfiction #fluff #happy birthday loml!!!

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y0itsbri · 3 years

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hii bri, how are you? 🥰

how do you think ian and mickey spent their weekend? ☀️

hello twisha my beloved 💞 i am well thank you ☺️

(thank you for the ask, this got kinda long oops)

ian started out saturday morning with a quick jog around the neighborhood. he easily could have spent the weekend morning sleeping in late and snuggling with mick, but they had plans for the day so ian wanted to start off the day with his normal routine.

he picked up smoothies on his way back from his run, a 'berry good' workout smoothie with added kale and protein for himself and a peanut butter banana chocolate smoothie for mickey.

mickey was already awake when ian got back. well 'awake' was a strong word, given that he was wearing his blanket like a cape while waiting for the coffee to brew with half closed eyes. he perked up a little bit as the door locked close behind ian. ian set the smoothies on the counter and gave mickey a lingering hug and forehead smooch because he's too irresistibly cute in the mornings.

they have a chill morning sitting out on their balcony until debbie comes over to drop off franny around noon. over the past few months, franny had gotten really interested in her uncle ian's gardening and he promised to take her somewhere real cool this weekend.

debbie and ian chatted by the doors while franny enthusiastically showed uncle mickey a super cool rock she found yesterday and mickey told her about how he knows this 'dinosaur guy' who has some super cool rocks that they keep in a museum. franny asks if the dinosaur guy wants her rock for the museum and he tells her he'll ask him next time he sees him.

they pack some snacks in a backpack and head off to garfield park conservatory. they were a little out of their element but they got their tickets for all the exhibits. ian's expression matched franny's in its awestruck wonder as they took in the sights. mickey and ian took turns taking pictures of each other and the flowers in a very 'tourist mom' fashion. franny insisted taking a picture of them together and directed them exactly where to stand. mickey stuck his tongue out in the photo and got reprimanded by franny who insisted they smile, almost a mirror image of her mother's attitude. mickey smiled in the next photo, but ian leaned over to kiss mickeys cheek. franny threw her arms up in frustration and they finally complied. ian lifted franny on his shoulders for the rest of their time at the conservatory.

franny fell asleep eating goldfish crackers on the drive back to their apartment. mickey gently picked her up and carried her inside, setting her on their bed to nap while he and ian started making dinner: french fries, chicken strips, and apple slices. they cracked jokes with each other and one of ian's belly laughs woke up franny who ran into the kitchen, crashing into his legs and hugging him. he told fran to pick out a movie to watch while they ate dinner.

franny is well equipped with using disney plus, so she put on 'luca.' they all settle into the couch and eventually settle into each other once they had finished eating, franny making her way onto uncle mickey's lap with ian's arm around mick as well. one of mickey's fingers traced ian's wrist before linking along with his fingers. ian spent half the time watching the movie and half the time staring at his enchanted husband.

after the movie finished, fran turned around to look at them and asks uncle mickey if he had been crying. he denied it but ian and franny shared a knowing look. ian affectionately squeezes his shoulder while franny gets herself some oreos from the kitchen while they wait for debbie to come pick her up.

ian and mickey spend the rest of their night drinking some new beer ian had picked up at the liquor store and watching sitcoms to relax and relieve the big emotions that came from the kid's movie.

sunday morning was spent in mickey's favorite way, sleeping in late with his husband. the soft warmness of each other and the blankets covering them being pure bliss.

mickey popped some frozen waffles in the toaster for breakfast while ian turned on the tv to catch some of the morning news. it's kind of a gloomy day outside, but that's okay because it's their cleaning and grocery shopping day anyways. ian had followed in fiona's footsteps by making sundays chore days... whenever he felt like it at least.

mickey swept the floors and did laundry while ian wiped down the countertops and made sure the dishwasher was loaded. mickey bitched about one of their neighbors from down the hall, but then revealed that said neighbor had invited them to their barbeque down by the pool next weekend. mick had said he would have to make sure ian didn't have any plans. even though he was content with the friends he had, ian was proud that mickey had become more amenable to the idea of hanging out with new people sometimes.

now that they regularly shop at a nicer grocery store, ian had been determined that they eat better. but somehow, every time they go shopping, they end up with half a cart of frozen meals and snack foods. there's not much complaining because that shit is good. it is what it is.

the other week, ian had picked up a guitar on sale from the music shop next to his yoga studio. both ian and mickey had been fucking around with it in their free time. this evening, mickey tried teaching ian what he knows about guitars, but it went a lot like how it went in friends when phoebe tried to teach joey guitar.

eventually, mickey ended up on the balcony for a smoke while he scrolled through instagram, seeing a new post of mandy in some fancy sunglasses and palm trees in the background. he double taps and comments some dumb shit knowing mandy is probably rolling her eyes at him from a thousand miles away.

ian was just getting off facetime with lip and freddie when mickey comes back inside. ian tells him about all the cute shit that freddie has been up to lately and lip's success at his new part time job where he mentors kids interested in robotics and coding. ian also mentions that carl is stopping by after his late shift so he can bring them takeout for dinner from their favorite asian restaurant on the south side.

they ate their stir fry, spring rolls, and crab rangoons with the house's specialty sauce as carl complained about his new partner and mickey muttered an 'acab' under his breath before ian kicked him in the shin.

after carl left, the boys headed to the bathroom for a rather spicy shower and then laid in bed watching tiktoks with ian's head resting on mickey's chest as they fell asleep. 🖤

#i just realized i kinda skipped lunch for both days but like imagine it's there lol #grumpymickmilk #ask #my posts #shameless #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #franny gallagher #carl gallagher #lip gallagher #freddie gallagher #ian x mickey #debbie gallagher

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angellesword · 3 years

Text

MAGIC SHOP | JJK (05)

Description: You and Jungkook were best friends who were in love with each other. What would happen when Soojin, your half sister who you’re trying to impress, told you she’s in love with Jungkook too?

Alternatively:

“Would you believe me if I said that I was scared of everything too?”

Genre: childhood best friends to lovers, family drama, angst, fluff, idiots to lovers, pining, slice of life au.

Pairing: Architect!Jungkook x Architect!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

SERIES: CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 6

"Marry me."

When Jungkook said this, you honestly thought that he wanted to sing Jason Derulo's Marry Me.

It made sense. The two of you were inside a karaoke booth, singing obviously. It was Sunday, meaning both of you would be back to reality tomorrow: you had to go to work and Jungkook needed to talk to Soojin.

He couldn't date your sister because he was already dating you, though you told Jungkook not to broadcast your relationship with anyone.

Not yet. This wasn't the right time. You first needed to see how Soojin would react. You didn't want her to think that you stole Jungkook or something.

That wasn't the case. You liked Jungkook even before Soojin liked him. There was no point in denying your feelings.

Seventeen years of running was already enough. How could you escape when Jungkook already conquered your heart?

You were sure he liked you too, probably more than you liked him.

"Kook, you just sang Savage Love. Do you seriously want to blast another Jason Derulo's song?" You groaned, expecting him to argue, or to pout and beg you to play the song.

However he only stared at you, pursing his lips into a thin line before letting out a deep breath.

"No, Tiger," no matter how serious the topic was, Jungkook's voice would always be soft. "I'm asking you to marry me..."

It was your turn to stare at him, completely dumbfounded.

"I'm sorry," you blinked after a moment of silence. You thought he would suddenly laugh and tell you he was joking.

"D-Did you say you want to marry me?"

Apparently, he wasn't kidding. Jungkook found satisfaction when it comes to teasing you, but not to the point where it was making you uncomfortable.

This was making you uneasy, yet he continued, a silent confirmation that this was real.

He wanted to marry you.

"Kook," you went near him, touching his shoulders. "I know you said we had the best time last night, I did too. I'm glad I kissed you and finally admitted my feelings for you."

You tried to remember every detail of what happened last night. You two kissed, went to his apartment, and reminisced about your moments when you were younger.

Jungkook implied that he would do the worst just for you. You remembered laughing and saying that he actually brought the best in you.

And then you remembered telling him you liked him and wanted to take your relationship into another level. He agreed, more than happy to date you despite your condition of keeping the relationship a secret.

You made yourself perfectly clear with what you wanted, and it seemed like he understood. He kissed you before falling asleep last night. When he woke up, he called you his girlfriend and asked you to go on a date with him.

This day was supposed to be all about you and him. The plan was to cook lunch together, watch some tv series, cuddle, and go out in the evening to go to a karaoke booth.

You had a fun time until now.

Why was he making this complicated by suddenly proposing to you?

"I'm sorry," Jungkook apologized, caressing the back of your hand which was still placed on his shoulder.

"I was...excited and caught up in the moment—" He paused, like something struck him.

"Never mind, Tiger." He pinched your cheeks. "I'm just messing with you."

You tried to speak, but Jungkook already turned away from you, grabbing his mic.

"Ah, I'm going to sing Dancing Queen and you can't stop me!"

The worry lacing your system vanished as soon as you saw his bunny smile.

"I wanna sing too!" So you grabbed your mic too, joining him.

The night was perfect once again.

It was so perfect that your mind and heart refused to accept the things that would ruin your Sunday date with Jungkook.

"After years of building things, two great architects of today finally decided to build a life together: Head Architect Jeon Jungkook asked Corporate Heir Kim Soojin to marry him."

You turned off your phone, baffled. No. This couldn't be true. Why would the media report fake news?

You were just with Jungkook a short while ago. You were at his place the whole weekend. He even dropped you off at the office earlier today before driving to the construction site. He also told you he would pick you up later for dinner. He knew Mondays were stressful so he wanted you to relax a bit.

So what just happened?

What was happening?

Why were things changing?

"Oh my! I knew it!" Fran, your coworker, gasped. She turned to your table.

"Girl! Have you watched the news? Head architect Jeon and team leader Kim are getting married!" She squealed, getting the attention of your other colleagues.

They all started to check their phones to confirm the news, some of them even spread the 'gossip' to the other departments. Moments later, you were sure that everyone in this building already knew about the announcement.

They seemed happy for Jungkook and your sister. You knew you should be thrilled too, especially because this was what Soojin wanted from the very start.

Unfortunately you couldn't even smile. Your stomach was crunching and you felt like you were going to vomit.

You were beyond confused. Did the media make a mistake or was Jungkook playing with your feelings?

It was probably the latter, right? Everyone was confirming the news. Soojin also texted you. It was the final blow.

[3:34pm] Soojin: Cancel your plan this evening! We'll be having family dinner, 7pm at our mansion. See you!

You were in the middle of reading her message when she sent another one.

[3:35pm] Soojin: The dinner's a mini celebration for JK and I! We're engaged! I'm sorry I didn't tell you immediately! We're soooo busy right now.

And then there was another one.

[3:35pm] Soojin: I'm so happy, sis! Can't wait to tell you the deets! Don't be late, ok?

You were not hesitating anymore. You were positive that Jungkook only played with your feelings.

Soojin wouldn't appear this happy if she was lying. Or was she pretending?

You weren't sure what to believe. Maybe it would be best to just let things be for now. You had to concentrate on your work. The truth would come out later this day anyway.

You texted Soojin back.

[4:02pm] You: See you later.

The clock continued to tick while you were losing your mind. You couldn't focus on your work no matter how many times you scolded yourself. In the end, you accomplished nothing. It didn't matter. You only had less than an hour before your shift ended.

You left the office at exactly five pm. You were planning on taking the bus, but you were surprised when you saw Taehyung waiting for you in the lobby.

"Oppa?" You greeted, unsure. One of the security employees told you that your brother was meaning to see you. They just didn't let him on your floor because he didn't set an appointment with you.

"You wanted to see me?" You asked when he just nodded at you. He was expressionless.

"Yes. We're going home together. Family dinner, remember?" He reminded you as if you weren't looking forward to that.

"Okay..." You responded since you didn't know what else to say. It seemed like he also didn't have the time to explain anything to you. Perhaps he simply wanted to drive you home.

"Do you know what Soojin and Jungkook like? I want to buy them an engagement gift," your brother blurted out.

You two were at the parking lot, looking for his car.

You stopped walking.

Huh. So he picked you up because he wanted your help? Why were you even surprised?

"It's okay if you don't know." Taehyung looked back at you upon realizing that you were frozen in the middle of the parking lot.

"I'll just buy them champagne or whatever." He shrugged, finally finding the car. He opened the door of the passenger seat for you.

"Let's go."

You blinked, entering the car.

Taehyung had a nice vehicle. It was clean and it looked brand new. The whole ambiance of his car was comfortable, yet you were fidgeting.

The silence was killing you.

"Soojin likes Dom Pérignon..." So you opened a topic related to his gift to the engaged couple.

Taehyung glanced at you, speaking only when the traffic light turned red.

"What about Jungkook?"

You flinched at the mention of your best friend's name.

"Huh?" And then you swallowed thickly, trying to calm your crazy heart.

"You said Soojin likes Dom Pérignon champagne. That's nice, but what about what Jungkook likes?" He licked his bottom lip, stepping on the gas once again. The traffic light flashed green.

"The gift is for the both of them. Not just for Soojin..."

You didn't know why but you felt as though Taehyung was implying something.

"I-I guess he doesn't mind that brand too..."

"Hm," Taehyung's jaw ticked. "It's best to just ask him, don't you think? Better know the truth first before jumping into conclusion..."

"Some things are taken prima facie..."

Taehyung laughed because of what you said.

"Really?" The corner of his mouth turned up. "I saw you kissing Jungkook at the party last Saturday. You both entered the same car after that. You didn't even go home for two nights. If I took this in a prima facie way, the conclusion is that you're Jungkook's mistress, right?"

Your face turned pale because of his claim. Shit. He saw you?

"I thought you left with Y-Yoongi." You stammered, turning to look at him.

You couldn't see his expression. His attention was focused on the street before him.

"Oh I did. But he wanted to check on you first. He was feeling guilty, you know? Said he didn't want to leave you alone..." He smiled, like he found Yoongi endearing.

"He only stopped worrying when he saw you with Jungkook."

"Oh." You bit your lower lip. You hadn't talked to Yoongi yet. Why didn't he text you? Why didn't he warn you? How were you supposed to defend yourself now?

"Don't worry, my lips are sealed." Luckily you didn't have to explain yourself.

Taehyung understood.

"Not that I condone cheating. I just know Jungkook isn't in a relationship with Soojin so he's not really doing anything wrong. Man..." He shook his head. "I don't even know why they're suddenly getting married, it's so fucked up."

You remained silent.

"And speaking of relationships..." Taehyung cleared his throat when you kept your mouth shut. "Don't tell anyone about my thing with Yoongi."

"Don't worry, my lips are sealed." You mimicked what he said a few breaths ago.

He smirked again.

"Good. If our family asks, I'll tell them we're together the whole weekend, unless of course you have a more believable lie..."

You didn't. You thought it wasn't necessary anymore. None of them asked where you were. You doubted that they knew you weren't home for two nights .

Usually Soojin bothers you. Sin-ae too. The latter would question you all the time, finding fault in your answers because she clearly enjoyed watching you get scolded by your father.

You wondered why they suddenly stopped bothering you. Were they too busy planning the engagement announcement? You saw Sin-ae's short interview. She confirmed to the public that her only daughter was indeed getting married.

"It's fine. But you told them where we went. I don't know what to say to them." You weren't close to Taehyung. It would be odd to know that you two were together the whole weekend.

"Don't worry, sister. I got it covered." Your brother winked at you, stopping the car.

You had arrived at the mansion.

Your heart skipped a beat as you muttered "Let's get this over with," under your breath.

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #ficswithluv #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #armywriterssupport #jungkook x you #jungkook x yn #best friend jungkook #jungkook best friends to lovers

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sacredthefran · 5 months

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Just curious….would you guys like it if I brought back my Soft Sundays?

And ofc I want you guys to share your soft thoughts with me too! I love when we’re all in our Jakedown/Dannydown/Samdown/joshdown. It’s so cute 🤍

#I know it’s been a while #Darms would probably be happy if I just dedicated one day to my soft thoughts instead of terrorizing them daily #greta van fleet #jake kiszka #danny wagner #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #Fran’s Soft Sunday #this can also be about bad omens too

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unbridgeabledistances · 3 years

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ok i have an inbox full of prompts, but i was making valentine’s day plans & all of a sudden felt very inspired to write some valentine’s day gallavich! featuring uncle mickey, homemade cards and a lot of domestic fluff- i’ll probs have a part two up sometime this week!<3

It was a lazy, slow-paced Sunday afternoon at the Gallagher house. Mickey had been lying on the couch passively watching trashy reality TV for god knows how long—and apparently at some point he’d fallen asleep, because now the TV volume was just a low hum, and he was being woken up to the startling crash of the kitchen back door slamming shut, and the rustling of shoes and coats being taken off and discarded by the front door.

“Alright Franny, let’s set this stuff up on the kitchen table.” Mickey heard Ian’s voice sail across the room, his eyes still closed to block out the cheery sunshine teeming in the living room.

Mickey tried to doze off again, attempting to block out the bright light infiltrating his eyelids, but it was no use— whatever Ian and Franny were doing, murmuring and clanging in the kitchen, there was no way for Mickey to escape the sound now and drift back into his sunwarmed sleep. He begrudgingly shoved the scratchy crocheted blanket off of his lap, stretching as he rose and stumbled into the kitchen.

He wasn’t expecting the carnage that he saw when he turned the corner; the kitchen table was covered in an explosion of sheets of multicolored construction paper, all reds and pinks and whites, with tiny multicolored stickers and tubes of glitter and shiny ribbons arranged and spread wide across the countertop, scattered with glue sticks and pairs of scissors and an exploded box of crayons. There was a small mountain of cut-out hearts piled high on the table, smattered with glitter-glue and blocky handwriting.

Mickey rubbed his eyes, taking in the scene. “What’re you two Picassos up to?” he asked drowsily.

Ian looked up, his eyes light. “Look who’s awake!” He gestured at the table emphatically, like it was Christmas morning. “Isn’t it great? Me and Franny grabbed all this stuff at the dollar store for less than ten bucks. The glue sticks definitely kind of suck, but I think it’ll get the job done.”

Mickeys eyes scanned to Franny, who was hard at work trying to cut a shape out of a piece of red construction paper, her brows furrowed in concentration. Ian kept chattering on as he unwrapped another sheath of the paper.

“Debbie left Franny with me since some rich lady called her with a weekend handywoman emergency that popped up at the last minute, so now I’m helping Franny make her valentines for school.”

Mickey scoffed. “Fucking valentines?”

Ian rolled his eyes as he contentedly started to glue together two pieces of paper. “Yes, Mickey, valentines. You know, those nice things that normal people give to each other on Valentine’s Day, along with a box of chocolates or some shit and a note about how much they love each other—”

“Yes, I know what they are, smartass. Don’t know why you didn’t just buy the little cardboard ones at the store though.”

Ian smirked, his eyes still focused on the paper beneath him that he was smudging glitter on. “Yeah, well. Franny wanted to make them, and I thought it’d be kind of fun.”

Just then Franny gasped triumphantly, raising a lopsided and crumpled paper heart up for Mickey to see. “Look, Uncle Mickey! I cut a heart! Uncle Ian showed me how!”

Mickey raised his eyebrows at Ian, who had a sheepish look on his face. “Didn’t know you had so many hidden talents, Gallagher.”

Ian flashed a grin. “I used to be really into art class in elementary school, what can I say.”

Franny looked up at Mickey with wide eyes. “Do you want to make valentines with us? We have to make twenty-seven, because that’s the number of people in my class.”

Mickey faltered. Sitting here gluing fucking glitter to pieces of paper was not exactly what he’d had in mind as his plans for the weekend…

“Uh. That’s okay kiddo. I think you two’ve got it covered.”

Franny seemed to readily accept Mickey’s answer, instantly looking downward again and grabbing a fistful of crayons from the table to continue enhancing her masterpiece. Ian, on the other hand, tore his gaze from his own valentine.

“Oh c’mon Mick, you don’t wanna help?” Ian asked, his voice goading and his eyebrows raised.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks but no thanks.” He turned, walking over to open the fridge and grabbing a beer from the top shelf.

“C’mon, just one valentine. Franny can show you how to cut out a heart shape, right Fran?”

Franny nodded vigorously. “Yes, I know how!”

Mickey took a swig of his beer and sighed. “Jesus, fine.” He pulled a chair between Ian and Franny, slowly scraping it on the linoleum, and then perched on the edge uncomfortably. “Alright Franny, show me what you’ve got.”

“Okay, so the first thing that you have to do is pick which color is your favorite. What’s your favorite color?”

Mickey had taken another sip of his beer, and now he sputtered slightly. “I don’t know Franny, you pick for me.”

Franny’s face melted into a pout. “But you have to pick, Uncle Mickey, it’s your favorite color!”

Ian bit back a laugh, his eyes still bright and cheerful. “Yeah, Mick, c’mon. What is your favorite color? We’ve never gotten this deep in our relationship before.”

Mickey gulped again from his beer can and flipped Ian off in the process. “I don’t fucking know. Never thought about it before.”

Franny held the stack of construction paper up to Mickey. “Look! There’s red, and yellow, and blue, and purple, and green—”

Mickey cut her off. “Uh, give me a green one.”

Ian smirked. “Green?”

“Fuck you, it was the first color I thought of.” Of course, that wasn’t really true—if Mickey needed to have a favorite fucking color, it was obviously going to be green, like the green eyes that met his gaze every morning and were the last thing he saw before he went to sleep at night— even if he would never be caught dead admitting that sappy bullshit to Ian.

Ian looked like he was holding back a smile. “Right,” he mused. “Hey, Franny, pass me a blue paper? Cause y’know, that’s my favorite color.”

Mickey gently shoved Ian in the square of his chest. “You’re being fucking soft.”

Ian let a crooked smile burst onto his face. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Mickey leaned back in his chair, holding the piece of thick green paper in front of him appraisingly. “Okay Franny, what’s step two?”

Franny stretched her body across the table to reach for one of the strewn pairs of scissors. “Now, you fold the paper in half, and then you cut out the shape of half of a heart, like this.” She drew an example of the curved pattern on the backside of Mickey’s paper with the tip of her finger. “And then you unfold it and it’ll be a perfect shape!”

“Sounds easy enough.”

Mickey took the scissors from Franny’s grasp, and held them up to the paper. It was just a fucking half circle with a little indent at the top— this wasn’t going to be too difficult. Ian and Franny went back to being absorbed in crafting their valentines, while Mickey started to botch and slash at his piece of construction paper.

When he was finally satisfied he unfolded the shape, the outer shell of the paper falling away. It was… well, it was kind of a heart, with two slanted sides and a wonky top half. It looked more like a blob attached to an angle than anything else.

Ian looked up from where he was doodling on a glittery heart and snickered.

“That’s uh… that’s a good first try, Mick.”

Mickey slammed the piece of paper down onto the table. Fucking arts and crafts, he was never good at this shit even when he was little—he fingers were always too fumbling, too clumsy for him to make anything delicate and pristine. Ian’s hands should have been as ungainly as his, but instead they were quick and nimble, smoothly cutting perfectly-rounded circles and gluing neat lines of glitter.

Franny noticed that Mickey was done cutting his shape. “Good job Uncle Mickey! Now you just have to draw on it, and put on stickers and glitter.”

“Yeah Mickey, let’s see those artistic skills.”

Mickey aggressively flicked some flecks of glitter from the table in Ian’s direction, then picked up a crayon and gripped it with an iron fist. What the fuck was he supposed to draw? This was a valentine for kids at Franny’s school, the fuck did kids like anyways? He started to draw some sort of stick figure, but the arms were too long and the head was too small, so he tried to color over it and make some sort of tree or some shit…

As Mickey scratched at the paper, he looked over at noticed suddenly how content Ian looked—how blissed out and settled he was, just running a crayon over the colorful paper and shaking bits of glitter onto pools of glue. If Mickey was being honest, he hadn’t seen Ian this light and happy in a while; he’d had a hunch in his shoulders for months after the wedding and the pandemic and all the minimum-wage job bullshit, the shadows of expectation hanging over him and causing a deflated weariness in his gaze that was impossible to ignore. But right now, Ian looked like he was having as much fun as Franny was, practically vibrating with satisfaction as he put the finishing touches on his drawing and reaching to place his completed valentine in the growing pile.

Mickey snatched the paper out of Ian’s hand, slightly crumpling it around the edges. “Wait a second. How the fuck did you do that?”

The valentine was immaculate, the heart symmetrical and traced in a thin outline of glitter. In the center of the paper there was a perfect little cartoon of a dog in a top hat, with an air bubble that read “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Ian shrugged. “Watched a lot of cartoons when I was little. And I’ve always kind of liked to draw.”

Mickey shoved the valentine back in front of Ian. Goddamn perfect fucking husband who’s good at fucking everything. He crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair, suddenly losing all motivation to play along.

Ian smirked, then reached to rest a hand on the back of Mickey’s neck. “Giving up already?”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Fuck you, Gallagher.”

Ian’s smile just widened. “Here, how about I cut the fucking shapes and you glue stuff onto them. That’d still help me and Franny a lot, right?”

Franny nodded. “It’s okay Uncle Mickey, I was bad at cutting the shapes too at first.”

Mickey huffed. Okay, so maybe he was horrible at this shit, but the least he could do was suck it up for Franny’s sake. “Fine,” he muttered, and grabbed a glue stick and a bottle of glitter.

A few minutes passed and they settled into a comfortable silence, enveloped in the sound of the scissors gliding and Franny scribbling on paper.

Suddenly, Franny looked up as Mickey reached across the table to grab a pad of stickers.

“Hey Uncle Mickey, what do you and Uncle Ian do for Valentine’s Day?”

Mickey didn’t really know how to answer that question— he darted a glance over at Ian, trying to signal as much. Could you ruin the spirit of Valentine’s Day for kids in the same way you could fuck up Christmas? “Uh, nothing really.”

Ian chimed in. “We used to like Valentine’s Day when we were little like you Franny, but now that we’re big we don’t really celebrate it. Right Mick?”

“Yup.”

Franny’s brows were furrowed again, this time in contemplation. “But. You love each other, right?”

“Sure, Franny. But we don’t need a special day for us to remember that,” Ian explained.

Franny seemed appeased enough by that answer to resume her drawing. “You don’t give each other valentines or candy or anything?”

Mickey almost laughed. Of course he and Ian had never celebrated fucking Valentine’s Day; if he was being honest, he didn’t remember even really thinking about Valentine’s Day before now, other than it being a day when Mandy came home crying in middle school because the boy she liked didn’t ask her out, or buying all the half-priced chocolates in red and pink wrappers at the drugstore a week later with his brothers. With all the shit in his life the past few years, frilly fucking holidays like Valentine’s Day were just… not on Mickey’s radar.

But maybe— maybe this year was different. This year, for maybe the first time in his life, Mickey felt secure and steady in a way that he never had before, like the ground was solid beneath him and wasn’t going to cave in at any minute. He had a fucking husband that he loved—why couldn’t they celebrate Valentine’s Day like a normal goddamn couple? Ian didn’t seem to be too bothered that they both didn’t give a fuck about the holiday, which was all the more reason to catch him off guard. He kept pressing stickers down onto the construction paper, his mind starting to churn.

By the time they’d made the twenty-seven fucking valentines, Mickey had made up his mind; this year, he and Ian were going to celebrate Valentine’s Day.

part two here!

#my bbys definitely do not seem the type to celebrate valentines day #but i had to make them try lol #lmk if u are interested in a part two!#gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless fic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #ian and mickey

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Riding High

Ch9: I Must Be Doing Something Right

Chapter Summary: When you try to do the best thing, it never works out the way you plan does it?

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words, and a game of Cards Against Humanity, which is really fucking offensive so if you are easily offended, suggest you steer clear!

Chapter Pairings: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: Contains SPOILERS for the film!!!!! If you haven’t seen it please be aware of that before you read on. This is a REALLY long chapter but there was SO much to cram in!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 8

Seven days was all it took.

Frank met the Foster Family on Sunday after Cullen had tabled the suggestion and agreed to the proposal that evening, ignoring Fliss and Roberta’s pleas to think about it for a few days at least. He didn’t want time to think, he was NOT going to surrender Mary to Evelyn, and if that meant she had to live with this nice family, in a posh house in Tampa, with a pool and a piano, then so be it.

The details were thrashed out between all attorneys and the state departments on the Monday and Tuesday, being finalised on the Thursday. Both Frank and his mother were given weekly visiting rights and once a month Mary was to come stay with him for a weekend, with longer visits to be agreed and settled with her foster parents as convenient during the holidays. When Frank was offered his choice of date to surrender Mary into care he chose the following Monday. Greg gave a little start and asked him if he wanted more time, convinced he could get Frank at least a fortnight, but he refused. The longer this dragged out the worst it was gonna be, just like pulling of a band aid.

Better to rip it fast and suffer a short, period of pain.

His mother had been unable to resist one last shot as she left him on the steps of the court building and her words were rattling around in his head as he stood watching Mary with Fliss as she hugged the woman tightly.

“I've been thinking a lot about the word called ‘compromise’. On one hand, good challenging school…on the other foster people. They can watch sitcoms with her. Take her to Olive Garden. Teach her to say ‘irregardless’ The only saving grace is, I suppose, is that she is better off than she was.”

He was clinging onto that thought. That Mary would be better off with this family than with his mother. And probably him if he was honest and he hoped Mary would in time, understand that too. At the moment she was still in denial, insisting that Frank was going to change his mind. He had told her time and time again this was a court decision, not his. Greg had explained it to her, the foster parents had explained it to when she had met them during the week, hell, Fliss had even explained it to her but nope, she wasn’t having it. Even before when he told her to go and say ‘see you later’ to Roberta, not goodbye- because it wasn’t goodbye- Mary had laughed and told the woman this entire thing was stupid and that she would be back with Frank later that evening.

And she was doing the same to Fliss now.

“You’ll be back for a visit before you know it.” Fliss brushed Mary’s hair off her face, blinking back her tears as she knelt in front of the girl. “And Monty will be waiting for you.” Mary shook her head “Look, we all know this is ridiculous, Frank isn’t gonna leave me there. He promised I wasn’t going anywhere and he’s never broken a promise to me yet.” “And he still hasn’t.” Fliss shook her head. “This is a court order, not Frank’s. Now you promise me that when you get there you show all these new people you’re gonna meet what a wonderfully funny, smart and incredible person you are. And then, when you come back I want you to tell me all about it.”

Mary shrugged “I’ll see you at the weekend I expect.” With that she moved back and looked at Frank like he was an utter idiot before she headed for the car.

Fliss stood up and wiped her eyes.“You gonna be okay?”

“No.” he shook his head. “Nothing about this is okay. At all. When she finally realises this isn’t some huge big joke or that I’m not gonna change my mind, she’s gonna flip.”

She stepped forwards to give him a hug, but he kept it brief, knowing that if he stayed he’d break. And he couldn’t. Not yet.

Fliss watched them drive away, before she turned back to her office, shut the door and curled up on the chair, arms hugging her knees as the tears coursed down her face.

***** Frank could see the moment that it finally began to sink in with Mary that this was all, very real. And he watched her heart break as she stood there, in the hall of her new foster home, begging him not to leave her.

Frank sighed, bowing his head. “You're going to a brand new school. A better school.”

“I don't want to. I want my crummy school.” Mary sobbed.

“And you got Fred…” Frank carried on, fighting back his own tears.

“Please.”

“And once a month you can come back and stay with me and Fliss and Roberta…”

“I want you and Fliss and Roberta now!”

“And in a few years, if you want, you can come back. You can live with me.” he looked at her, smiling encouragingly.

“I wanna stay with you. Frank, you promised me.” Mary stomped her foot, angry tears pouring down her face.

“Come on. Don't do this.” Frank sighed softly, rubbing the tops of her arms and shoulders.

“You promised me.”

“I know.” he bowed his head blinking back tears. He had, and he’d broken that promise. And he felt like shit. “I know.” he repeated lamely, his left hand gently resting on the side of her face, brushing away her tears.

“Please, Frank. Why are you leaving me?” she sobbed as he took her face in both his hands and looked at her.

“Because the court said I have to. You know this. We've discussed this ad naus...” he stopped himself and looked down, swallowing thickly. “We've discussed this.” he looked at her, taking a deep breath.“Come on. Come on. Please.” he said, gently moving to sweep her into a hug but she shoved him hard.

“No!”

Frank could do nothing but kneel there as she hit him again in his chest, then once on the side of his face, screaming at him. At that point her foster mother stepped forward and Mary continued to lash out, screaming at Frank.

“Sweetheart, you know what?” The woman began to talk to Mary as her foster Father looked down at Frank sympathetically.

“There's no easy way to do this.” he said. At that Frank jumped up and walked to the door.

“It’s not gonna be as long as you think, honey.” her foster mother was soothing her, but Mary was having none of it.

“Frank!”

“You're gonna see.”

“Frank!” Frank opened the door and paused, looking back as Mary was fighting against her foster mother who was gently holding her arms, screaming at him “Don't leave me!”

And that was the moment his heart broke into a million pieces. He had to go, he had to get out of there. He quickly stepped through the door and pulled it closed behind him, heading quickly for his truck, trying to block her screams and yells out as they still hit his ear from inside the house.

“Don't go! I need you! Fred needs you! You promised me!”

Sniffing back his tears he climbed into the truck, started it up, and then sat, both hands on the steering wheel, head bowed for a moment whilst he composed himself, before he put the truck in gear and drove off, leaving Mary behind.

**** Fliss had half expected Frank to show up at the yard again later that day, but he didn’t. Instead he messaged her telling her he needed some head space so was heading down to the Marina to do some work. Which was where she found him later that evening, working on the same boat he had been on all week.

“Hey, down there.” she said gently as she climbed the ladders up the side of the boat “The Serenity” Frank looked up at her, gave her a faint smile, before he turned back to what he was doing as Fliss stepped onto the deck of the boat, watching him carefully.

“I don't know which mistake is worst. Designing a water pump that leaks or putting it somewhere no human being can reach” he ranted as he leaned further into the uncovered pump. As Fliss took a seat on one of the raised benches at the back of the boat he stood up, the offending part in his hand and sighed “How you design something you know is gonna fail? Gotta be devious or clueless, right?”

He dropped what he had been reaching for onto the table in front of him and glanced at Fliss who was sat watching him, her hands pressed between the knees of her denim-short clad legs as she shot him another small smile. He picked up a small wrench and returned to his previous position, crouching over the machinery of the boat.

“After the first few weeks, I knew I had to find a real family for her. I was in way over my head.” he reached for a bolt that was in the box he had resting on the side and continued his work. “And every day I'd say today's the day I'm taking her to child services and every day she'd do something just…” he paused, his hands still working as a soft, yet heartbreakingly sad smile flickered across his face. “…so unbelievably cool.” He swallowed, still not looking at Fliss. “Her little personality was exploding. She was funny and she was angry, and she was happy, and she was sad and was cute.” He reached for something else, his voice groaning slightly with the strain of stretching. “Just so damn entertaining. And so I kept her.” His voice started to rise in tone, revealing the anger he felt at himself. “Not that that's in her best interest. Not that I'm capable of raising a child.”

“Frank that’s not true.” Fliss spoke softly, butting in but he continued his rant.

“A child that might still have a mother if I'd taken the time to notice she needed me.”

“Ok, now stop it.” Fliss’ voice was a little sterner now “Frank, we’ve been through this.”

“And now,” he stood up, reaching for a towel to wipe the oil off his hands, “six and a half years later I finally got her to a foster family and you know what? It was great.” He said sarcastically. “She loved it.” He tossed the towel onto the side. “I thought it would be a nightmare of abandonment and betrayal.” He hopped up onto the level of the boat Fliss was sat on and threw his hands out to the side “And it turns out it was a huge success.” With that he bent back down to pick up the broken part he had retrieved from the pump, tossing it slightly in his hand. “I'm a fuckin’ hero.” He angrily launched the part out of the side of the boat where it hit something with a crash.

“Hey.” Fliss stood up and moved to gently run her hand down his arm. He was dirty, sweaty, covered in grease and he was conscious of this so went to pull away but she stopped him, her grip firm before she moved her hands to his face, her palms gently pressing against the scratch of his beard, sweat beading on his brow as he looked at her. “Listen to me.” Her eyes locked onto his “Mary will be ok. It’s gonna take time but-”

“You didn’t see her.” He said, stepping back out of her touch, his hand flying to his hair “She fucking hates me. She was screaming and I just left her.” He finished, somewhat lamely. “After I promised her, I promised her she could stay with me.”

With that he went the side of the boat, and hopped onto the ladder at the side.

“Frank.” Fliss moved to follow but he shook his head.

“No, Lissy,” he trailed off, holding his hand up. He sighed and took a deep breath. “I appreciate everything you've done. Just...” he shook his head again and continued own the steps.

Fliss watched him go where he headed back into the little workshop area, swallowing slightly. She looked up at the starry sky and took a deep breath, blinking back her tears. She knew she shouldn’t take it personally. He was hurting and needed time. She licked her lips before she climbed off the boat and turned in the opposite direction he’d gone, deciding to take the long route around to her car so as not to pass him again.

Frank walked into his workshop area and launched an angry kick at a box of engine propellers scattering them all over the floor. He stood up, both hands on his hips as he took a deep breath and turned half expecting Fliss to be behind him. But she wasn’t. With a sigh he made to go back outside and apologise but when he looked up she wasn’t on the boat anymore.

“Fuck.” He cursed, turning to look to his right where he saw her walking a hundred yards or so away down the side of the marina.

“Liss!” He called, and she stopped, turning towards him as he set off towards her in a jog. “Lissy, I’m sorry.” He stopped in front of her, shaking his head.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” she replied “I understand.”

“No there is. You came her to check on me and,” he took a deep breath, “believe me, if there’s one person in all of this that I have no right to be mad around it’s you. I didn’t mean to snap.”

“I get it, honestly I do.” she smiled gently, stepping towards him and rubbing his arm. “Today must have been so hard, I can’t imagine how you felt.” He fell silent. “But I meant what I said Frank, none of this is your fault.”

“I should never have let her go to that school.” His azure blue eyes misted over again, and he looked down at his feet, shaking his head. “Shoulda, woulda coulda.” Fliss shrugged as he pulled his head back up to look at her. “You can’t keep beating yourself up about things you can’t change, trust me, I know.”

Frank sniffed slightly before she sighed and carried on

“It’s done, Mary is with a good family, she’s going to get a good education and, yeah, it might take a while but she’ll come round and soon realise that you did what you did, not because you didn’t want her, but because you wanted what was best for her.” “I hope you’re right.” His voice cracked as Fliss stepped forward and pulled him back into her arms “I love her Fliss, and I don’t know what I’m gonna do if she won’t forgive me.”

*****

Fliss was worried Frank was going to go off the rails, but he didn’t. He simply threw himself into his work, ever night and day he was at the boat yard. They talked daily and she invited him to dinner on Friday, in an attempt to keep him away from Ferg’s for fear of him getting himself absolutely trashed and doing something stupid like picking a fight. She hadn’t expected him to accept, however, so was pleasantly surprised when he took her up on her offer.

He was a little more subdued than normal, but they talked over the bolognese she had made and then Bill had popped his head in and invited them through to the house for a few drinks and a game of Cards Against Humanity.

Frank’s face twisted into a grin. “You know I’ve never played it before.”

“You’re kidding?” Bill looked at him.

“Oh Frankie, it’s great fun.” Fliss grinned. “You get to learn a lot about people, and how twisted and sick their minds actually are.”

“Verity is the worst.” Bill said, seriously “I been with her now for almost thirty-one years, married to her for…” “Twenty-Eight.” Fliss supplied.

“Twenty-Eight, thanks Titch, and I had no idea how warped she was until we played this a few years ago.”

Frank chuckled and Fliss looked at him and he shrugged, “Not like I got anything else to do so, sure, I’m in.”

Fliss nodded and together they made their way out of the annex and over to the main house. Frank had been in here once before and, despite the fact that it was ridiculous large and fancy, he felt at home. Verity greeted her with the usual warmth, wrapping him up in a motherly hug as she looked at him and scalded him for losing weight. He sighed, he knew he hadn’t been eating properly but he didn’t look that different.

“Leave the lad alone.” Bill looked at his wife, thrusting a chilled San Miguel into Frank’s hand. “He’s come here to relax not have you nagging on at him.”

Verity rolled her eyes and began to quibble with her husband whilst Fliss shook her head, grinning at Frank before she led him through to the dining room where the cards were placed in the middle of the table.

It didn’t take long for Frank to get the hang of the game, and it also didn’t take him long to realise Bill was right. Verity had an extremely warped sense of humour, that said, so did Fliss, and the more alcohol she consumed, the worse it got. He declined another beer from Bill, stating that he had to head home, but Fliss frowned at him.

“Take the spare room.” she offered, but he shook his head.

“I’m working tomorrow, got a few things to finish so…”

She didn’t push it, and that was another thing Frank loved about her. The fact that she would take no for an answer without questioning him.

“Ok…so…” Frank leaned over, taking the cards that were face down, shuffling them so he didn’t know whose were whose “Do not fuck with me I am literally what right now.” He turned the top card over and gave a snort. “Seeing things from Hitler’s perspective,” then he turned the next card and arched an eyebrow, “dying…oh god that’s bad…” and the final one, “pretending to care…it’s gotta be the Hitler one!”

“Yes!” Fliss grinned as she took the card from him. “Catching you up mum.” After a few more rounds which contained winning combinations such as “This is your Captain speaking. Fasten your seatbelts and prepare for- September 11th, 2001, “ and “”In the beginning there was- the mixing of the races- and then the Lord said ‘Let there be- Nazis,’” the cards were finished and they all counted. Bill was bottom, Fliss and Frank had tied, and Verity was the runaway winner. After a little more chat they called it a night and Frank walked back to the annex and his truck with Fliss.

“Thank you.” He turned to her “Not just for tonight, which was real fun but…”

Fliss smiled and gave him a hug. “Any time, Sailor.”

He dropped a kiss to her cheek. “Ya know, I’ll hold you to that.”

He gave her a cheeky grin as he got in his truck and Fliss watched him go, pleased to see that for the first time since Mary had left that Monday, he seemed to be getting some of that Frank spark back.

*****

Frank parked the truck and grabbed the wrapped box of lego, the ping pong balls for Fred and the next Harry Potter book in the series (the third one) from Fliss off the passenger seat and headed up the steps. He knocked politely on the door and smiled as Kevin looked through the glass window to the left

“Hey.” He smiled as Kevin opened the door

“Hi, Frank. We're errr…” Kevin stepped outside and closed the door “… having a little bit of a problem in there.”

“What?”

“Mary's fine but she's having a little bit of a meltdown.”

“Right.” Frank sighed, nodding “Let me talk to her.” He made to enter the house but Kevin stopped him

“No, hang on. That's not a good idea.” He said gently as Frank looked at him, a slight frown on his face “Your visit here is the reason for the meltdown.”

“What?” Frank’s brows furrowed together

“She don't wanna see you.” Kevin said, apologetically.

Frank felt like his chest was being crushed. He took a deep breath and visibly slumped. Kevin continued sympathetically. “I'm sorry, man. This is predictable. You know, she needs time.”

Frank fought to keep himself composed. This was his first visit, it had been agreed that the first one would be the Monday, a week after she had left, then moving to Saturday afternoons, and they’d done that for a reason, to give her a full week to settle in. He hadn’t expected it to be plain sailing but he had been hoping she would calm down. He needed to see her, whenever they argued, they always talked, always sorted things out. And this wasn’t any different.

“Just give me five minutes with her.” he looked at Kevin

“I let you inside and then we're gonna betray her trust and have an even bigger problem.” the man shook his head.

Frank got that, he did, but it didn’t make it any easier. He nodded, still keeping himself composed, before wordlessly he thrust the items he was holding into Kevin’s hand and turned and headed back to his truck.

He got drunk that night. And, as he lay on the sofa, with his tumbler of cheap scotch, he realised that the ache he was feeling was the same ache as when he lost Diane. He was grieving. Grieving for the loss of his wonderful, beautiful, annoying, smart-ass niece. Only she wasn’t dead, just gone. Gone from her home and gone from him.

The next morning he woke on the sofa, still clothed, with a mouth like sand paper and a banging headache. After a shower and litre of orange juice he went down to get his mail and found himself sitting on the bench near the mail boxes, simply staring into space. He was vaguely aware of someone sitting next to him, and when Roberta reached out and worked his right hand free from where it was joined tightly with his left, he let out a sigh as she simply squeezed his fingers.

Wednesday morning, after Fliss had stopped by with breakfast from the bakery not far down the road, he was sweeping up the kitchen, which didn’t seem to be half as messy anymore now there were no cat biscuits lying around seeing as Fred wasn’t there to deposit the ones he didn’t want under the table. He opened the broom closet and his eyes fell onto the basket full of shells that Mary had collected over the last god knows how long. He stared at it for a moment before he threw the broom in the closet, slamming the door.

Thursday morning he woke to a message from Fliss asking if he fancied meeting her for lunch. He accepted her invite and headed down to the Marina, his spirits lifted a little at the fact he’d get to see someone he actually cared about soon. He’d been there for a few hours, putting the water pump that he’d finally managed to strip out of that damned boat back together when his phone rang. He glanced at the number and frowned when he saw it was Bonnie. Sighing, he dropped it back to the desk next to him. She’d called a few times since Mary had left, Fliss had reasoned with him that he should answer as she probably just wanted to know how he was. But, seeing as he didn’t actually fucking know how to explain how he was, what on Earth was he going to tell her?

Instead, he let it ring out as usual and then a little while later it beeped, signalling he had a message. He ignored that too, he’d deal with it later.

*****

“Fliss?” Joanne called “There’s a call for you in the office.”

“Ok, hang on.” Fliss put down the bridle she had been piecing together in the tack room and headed through, taking the phone off Joanne. “Fliss Gallagher…” “Hi Fliss, it’s Bonnie, Bonnie Stevenson.” “Oh, er,,,hi…” She said, surprised to hear the woman on the other end of the phone.

“I’m sorry to call you it’s just, well Frank is ignoring my calls and my messages and I was just kind of worried about him.” “Oh…” Fliss took a deep breath, scratching at her head. “He’s been a bit up and down so don’t take it personally.”

“Look, don’t want to step on your toes because I know you two are kinda, well, anyway, I was just in the library at school today and well I saw a photo of Fred on the adoption board for the Pinellas County Animal Shelter and was a little-.”

“Hang on.” Fliss cut her off, not quite believing what she was hearing. “Fred is in the Animal Shelter?” “Yeah.” Bonnie sighed. “I just, well I know Mary loved that cat and I’m concerned Frank is making a mistake giving it away, Mary would-”

“Bonnie the cat went with her.” Fliss took a deep breath, her mind whirring

“What?” Bonnie whispered

“Mary took the cat with her to the foster home. Frank hasn’t turned him in. Fuck, he’ll be devastated when he finds out.” she bit her lip. “Leave it with me, I’ll call him.” “Ok, well, good luck.” Bonnie offered. “Thanks. And thank you for calling and telling us, I mean me, him…whatever” Bonnie gave a chuckle “I hope you get there in time.”

“In time?” Fliss frowned.

“Yeah, Fliss it’s a kill shelter. They only keep the animals for a week or so, depending on their hopes and chances of being adopted.”

Fliss felt her heart sink. Suddenly her thoughts went back to Frank and how he had told her Mary refused to see him on Monday as she was having a meltdown about him going. What if the melt down had been about Fred?

“Fuck.” she mumbled, “Bonnie, I’m sorry I gotta…” And at that she put the phone down. She grabbed her keys, purse and mobile and sprinted for her jeep, yelling to Joanne that she had an emergency. She dived in her car, sped off down the drive and called Frank as she went.

“Hey,” he picked up after two rings.

“Oh you’ll answer to me!” She said, turning left onto the freeway, keying in the location on her GPS.

“Of course.” he said, his tone a little puzzled “What’s…”

“Bonnies’ been trying to call you.”

“I know, I just…” “Shut up a minute.” Fliss cut him off “She was calling because she saw a poster, an adoption photo for the Pinellas County Animal Shelter. It was Fred.”

There was a pause before Frank breathed out “What?”

“They gave her cat away, Frank.”

There was a loud clatter at the other end and then she could tell Frank was running from the sounds and the way his voice wobbled with his momentum.

“I can’t, oh god Fliss, Mary’s gonna be devastated.” “I know. I’m on my way now. I’ll meet you there.”

“Ok.” he said, and with that he hung up. *******

Frank didn’t think he’d ever driven that fast before in his life. He literally dumped the truck on the car park, haphazardly parked in a disabled bay, and ran into the shelter, straight to the reception desk.

“Hi!” he said, resting his hands on the desk.

“Hi! Can I help you?”

“Yeah. Do you have a one-eyed orange cat named Fred?”

At that he heard someone else crashing through the door and a second later there was a gentle touch his arm and he turned to see Fliss, dressed in her riding gear besides him.

“We have a one-eyed cat.” the receptionist nodded after a pause “But I don't know what his name is.”

“Where?” Fliss demanded impatiently.

The receptionist turned to the woman behind her who was digging in the drawers. She turned and pulled a sympathetic face “I don't know. Today was his last day.”

Fliss sighed and Frank hung his head, as a dog gave a loud bark from somewhere in the rear of the shelter. Suddenly there was a violent tug on his hand and he was being dragged down the side of the desk, the receptionist shouting objections as Fliss pulled him through the door at the end. They past the rows of dogs in kennels and then Frank spotted another room to their right.

“This way.” He said and this time he was pulling her along as they headed into the cattery area, but there was no sign of Fred. They continued through, and then headed into the veterinary area, trying each door one by one and the final one they entered was occupied.

“What are you doing back here?” The vet looked at him as Frank saw three needles on the table and let out a soft groan.

“I told him he couldn't.” He heard the receptionist trail off, as his attention was taken by Fliss

“Thank God!” She breathed out, moving to her left. Frank heard a familiar meow and he turned to see Fred in a cat cage on the side.

The relief that flooded his system was insurmountable. He joined Fliss who was now stroking Fred through the bars as the cat tilted his head and looked up at Frank, letting out a meow.

“Hey Fred.” Frank sighed, his hands falling to the top of the cage as he kissed Fliss’s temple in relief and thanks, and then the anger came back.

“Who brought this cat?” He turned round to look at the helpers who were stood in the room.

“Some guy.” The one from the reception shrugged. “He said it was an allergy issue.”

He let out an angry snort and looked at Fliss “Evelyn. She’s allergic to cats.”

Fliss face slid into an expression of understanding as she turned to look at him. “Seems like Mr Perfect Foster Father fed you a load of bullshit on Monday, Frank.”

It took them half an hour to iron out the paper work which allowed Frank to bring Fred home, and because the two other cats in there, Chili and Toby, were on death row they came too, well, with Fliss that is back to the stables.

They carried the cats out between them and Frank turned to Fliss as he passed her the cage containing the black and white one.

“I’m going to get Mary back. This is wrong, it’s fucking wrong. She needs to be with me. I mean, she’s a good kid, right?”

“I’ve told you before, she’s an amazing little girl.” Fliss looked at him as she shut the rear door to the car.

“Well then, I can’t be that bad a substitute parent can I?”

Fliss beamed at him before she asked. “So how we gonna play it?”

He noted her use of the word we, and smiled. “I’m gonna give my mother exactly what she wants”

Huh?” Fliss frowned “I’m not…”

“I’m going to give her another way to achieve her dream without using Mary.” He said, biting his lip as he turned to face her. “Once you’ve dropped those two off meet me at mine as fast as you can. I need to pick up some stuff, and Roberta.”

*****

Fliss did as she was told and less than twenty minutes later they were speeding along the freeway to Tampa, Fliss driving at a steady ten clicks over the limit. It felt like the journey took forever, but it wasn’t much over twenty minutes, and Frank jumped out of Fliss’ jeep before it had even stopped, running up the steps to the large house.

He pounded his fist on the doorway and it swung open.

“Frank?” Kevin greeted him

“Where's Evelyn?” He demanded.

“Evelyn? You mean your mother?”

“Yes.”

“Kevin,” they were joined by his wife, Emma who grabbed his arm as Kevin had opened his mouth to speak. ”Evelyn is in the guest house.”

Frank turned and headed back down the steps, jumping the last three.

“Yeah, listen. I'm sorry, man.” Kevin followed. “Frank, let me tell you. She was so helpful with the tutors. Mary was so distant and she-“

“Hey!” Roberta stepped out to block Kevin’s way. “Look, we know what you’re up against.”

Kevin sighed, nodding “She’s tenacious…”

“Do you want your life back? “ Fliss looked at him, her glare steady as Kevin watched Frank heading up the steps to the guest house “Go back inside.”

Frank reached the top of the stairs and wrenched open the door to see his mother sat at a desk with Mary, whilst there was a man stood pointing at a book, another sat in the corner on a computer. All four of them looked up and Frank took a deep breath, shaking his head at his mother.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, surprise evident on her face.

Frank ignored her as Fliss and Roberta stepped into the room, Fliss carrying the box he had brought with him.

“Come on, Mary. We're going home.” Frank heled his hand out as Fliss placed the box on the desk and folded her arms.

“No.” Mary replied gently, shaking her head, eyes locked on Frank.

“You're trespassing!” Evelyn started but Frank ignored her, flipping the lid off the box, pulling out a ring bound file “You need to look at this.” He tossed it on the desk and walked towards Mary. “Let's go, Mary. Let's move. Come on.” He beckoned with his hand.

“No!” she repeated, sliding off her chair. She pushed the man next to her out of the way and dodged round the desk. There was a cacophony of people moving and shouting her name but Frank gently stopped Fliss as she made to grab her.

“It's okay. I got her.” He said, flying out of the door after her.

Evelyn made to follow but Fliss stepped right in her path, blocking the way, her nose inches from Evelyn’s as she stared the woman down.

“Think again, lady.” Roberta spoke from behind her, her hand laying on Fliss’ shoulder, giving a squeeze of support.

Evelyn looked at the two of them for a second before she jerked her head to flick the piece of hair that had fallen forwards into her eyes before she tuned and picked up her phone. She looked at Fliss again, who arched an eyebrow, and then turned back to her phone before she stopped dead and her eyes fell on the ring bound file Frank had thrown onto the desk.

Fliss exchanged a look with Roberta, neither of them understanding what was in the file, but clearly Evelyn did. Fliss had a feeling it was something to do with the equation Frank had told her that Diane had been working on, maybe some research. Evelyn glanced over Fliss’ shoulder to the door, her breathing deep as she looked back to the file.

“This,” she said, looking at it,“it can’t…”

Then she snapped out of it, going for the door but Fliss once more stepped into her path.

“You’re not going out there, not until Frank has a chance to speak to Mary.”

“You have no right.”

“And neither do you.” Fliss said loudly

“I have visitation rights. I’m her grandmother!” “Oh please!” Fliss snorted “Up until a few months ago you had never seen her. And what kind of grandmother rips a little girl away from the person who has shown her nothing but love all her life, and cared for and provided for her for over six years?”

Evelyn raised her chin defiantly.

“And all for what? Some fucking dream about a stupid maths problem that no one bar a gang of stuck up Oxbridge middle aged tossers give a shit about!" "How dare you?" Evelyn glared at Fliss. "I'm not having some jumped up, dressage riding tart speak to me like this! I did this for Mary. To give her the life she deserves… " "No you did this for yourself." Fliss shot back. "And you know what? Maybe Frank doesn’t have the poshest house, or the most prestigious career in the world, but kids don't need money, or laptops or huge fucking homes with a pool and a summer house! They need love and care, to know they're safe and wanted, and she gets all of that with Frank, with us." She gestured to Roberta as she continued. "And if you stopped to listen and look at her as a person and not your ticket to fame for just one second you'd see what an amazing, wonderful little girl she is and that's down to your son." Fliss took a deep breath and wiped at her eyes as Evelyn looked away from her to Roberta almost as if she was expecting a verbal tirade from her too. Roberta simply shrugged "I got notin' to add, she said it all for me" "Frank is one of the kindest, most loving and gentle men I know." Fliss swallowed, her voice softer. "He has a heart of gold and everything he does is for that little girl. Maybe he doesn't always get it right but who does? He tries his best, and I'd love to congratulate you on bringing up such and amazing man, but I literally have no idea how he turned out the way he did with a cold hearted bitch like you as a mother."

****

“Mary!” Frank called, sprinting after her as she ran down the drive “Mary!”

He gently grabbed her arm and dropped to the floor as she spun round “No, let me go!” she yelled at him, lashing out again with her arms the same way she had done when he had left her. Frank turned his head holding his hands up to deflect the blows.

“Stop, Mary.Stop, stop!”

“No!”

“Come here.” he urged, his voice soft as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him as he stood up, holding her tight.

“You lied to me.” she shot at him accusingly

“I know.” He scrunched his eyes up, ducking his head as she continued to rain blows on him.

“No, no!”

“Stop, stop, stop!” he pleaded as her blows grew weaker until she collapsed against him, crying, her head buried into his shoulder. He closed his eyes and pressed his face against her cheek. “I'm sorry. I made a mistake. I'm so sorry.”

“You promised me.”

“I know.” he agreed, taking a deep breath, looking upwards.

“You promised.” Mary’s voice was quiet as her small arms moved around his shoulders.

“I know. I'm sorry. I’m so sorry.” his voice cracked as he gently walked them towards the house a little.

“You said you wouldn't leave me!” she broke her heart once more as his hand moved up to hold between her shoulder blades and he pressed his cheek to the side of her head.

“I made a mistake. I'm sorry.” He stressed, rubbing her back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed him tightly and he closed his eyes, swaying her softly on the spot.

“I was so sad!” She sobbed as Frank simply stood, breathing heavily, eyes still closed as he desperately fought for composure. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” He whispered into her hair as he pressed a kiss to the side of her head, blinking back the tears that were filling his eyes. God he should never have agreed to this, ever.

“They took Fred.” Mary cried and Frank shook his head.

“No. It's okay.” He sniffed, bending down to place her on the floor so she could look at him. “We got him. He's home.”

“What?” She asked softly, her cries stopping as she looked at him, her eyes so like her mother’s bored into his.

“He's at the apartment right now. Me and Fliss went and we got him.”

“For real?”

“Yeah.” Frank assured her, his right hand reaching up to wipe away her tears as he cupped her cheek softly. “He's home kicking around his ping pong ball.”

“Why did you leave me here?” she asked, her sobs starting again. And that was the moment he broke. He couldn’t hold it in anymore and he too began to cry.

“Because I thought I was bad for you.” his voice cracked as he struggled to speak, a tear falling down his cheek. “And then it dawned on me. If Mary is this amazing, smart, sweet human being, then I must be doing something right.”

She looked at him, her face contorting as her cries grew shallower and she reached out with her small hands rubbing at his beard before her thumbs crept into the side of his mouth, and she curled his lips upwards and he swallowed again, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners.

Her hands fell to his shoulders and she looked at him. “You're smiling”

He nodded and bowed his head, his chest heaving with unshed sobs before Mary wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. He closed his eyes again, holding her close, his hand rubbing her back.

“I’m never gonna let anyone take you away from me again, Short Stack.” He promised as she pulled back, her hands fiddling with the collar of his grey T-shirt.

She paused for a moment before she looked at him. “Can we go home now?”

“You’re damned right.” He nodded, as he stood, picking her up in his arms. They made their way back up the steps to the guest house, pausing slightly to look at one another as Fliss’ angry yells hit their ears.

“Fliss is mad.” Mary’s eyes grew wide and she looked at Frank.

“Yeah, well she’s missed you too. So has Roberta.” Frank smiled as they carried on up the steps. They reached the door just in time to catch Fliss calling Evelyn a “cold hearted bitch” and as Frank opened the door, Roberta and Fliss turned to face them both.

“Roberta! Lissy!” Mary yelled as Frank set her down on the floor.

“Hey baby!” Roberta smiled, as she hugged the girl tightly before Mary released her and threw herself at Fliss.

“Oh kiddo.” Fliss sighed, dropping a kiss to Mary’s head. She looked up at Frank and he gave her a wink, before nodding gently to the door.

“Of all the stunts you could pull.” Evelyn looked at him and he glared straight back as besides him, he heard Fliss say something to Mary as her and Roberta ushered her out of the door.

“Where are they going?” Evelyn demanded

“Nowhere. Not yet.” Frank looked at her before he turned his attention to the two tutors in the room “You two, out!”

Once they left, Frank and his mother began to argue about the file he had given her, Evelyn refusing to believe it was real, that Diane had solved the Millennium Problem. Eventually, Frank had enough and shook his head.

“Evelyn, stop!” he said firmly. “I'm taking Mary and I'm raising her how I believe Diane would have wanted”

“We'll see about this.”

“I realize she's not normal.” He continued, his voice steady and definitive. “But if Einstein can ride a bike so can she.”

“Let’s just say Diane didn't tell me, which is nonsense. It's a Millennium Problem!” His mother blazed “She would have shared it with the world. That's where your charade falls apart.”

Frank sighed and looked down, one hand resting on the surface of the table between him and his mother, the other shoved into his pocket.

“If she had completed the proof, she would have published it!” Evelyn finished.

With a deep breath he looked back up at his mother before he looked down at the file and spoke a little softer this time “Diane instructed me very clearly,” he swallowed and looked down at his left hand, his fingers tapping lightly on the table, “that I was only to publish it post mortem.”

“She died six years ago.” Evelyn demanded and he looked back at her.

“It wasn't her death she was talking about.”

He watched as his mother’s mouth fell open slightly in understanding and shock before she looked down, swallowing. Despite everything, Frank felt a pang of sympathy for her, he was taking no pleasure in any of this. His mother sank into a chair, her eyes closing as her head bowed slightly

“I tried to talk her out of it.” Frank explained gently. “But you know how Diane could be when she made her mind up about something.”

Evelyn didn’t say a word, she simply stared at a spot on the desk, her eyes darting from side to side and Frank could see she was suddenly coming to terms with the fact that, really, she hadn’t known his sister at all

“I called MIT.” He continued “Shankland's out of his mind about the possibility of publishing it with you.” At that Evelyn glanced up at him. “He's waiting for your call.” Frank nodded. “You're gonna spend the next few years of your life defending it. You won't have time for her.”

Evelyn swallowed again, before she floundered to speak, struggling slightly to form the first word. “What If I say no?” She eventually said, taking a breath and looking back up at Frank.

He looked to the side slightly. “Well,” his eyes flicked back to hers, the nerve in his jaw twitching slightly, “back to Plan A”

“Wait for me to die?” Evelyn’s voice took on an almost amused tone as she fixed Frank with a look.

“I know Diane was hard.” He said after a moment’s pause, his voice remaining calm. “I know she was angry. But something really good came out of this, Evelyn. She needs you now. You're the best woman for the job. Take it”

Evelyn looked down at the file again, her brows raising slightly. “It doesn't seem like Diane wanted me to have it.”

“Well, Diane didn't always think things through.” He smiled softly as Evelyn looked up at him, the fact she had spoken those exact words to Frank weeks before had clearly not passed her by. “I'll be outside. Let me know what you wanna do.”

With that he left the room but he hadn’t even gotten halfway down the stairs before Evelyn shot out after him. He turned and glanced back up at her, questioningly

“I’m not going to fight you anymore, Frank. I’ll take your offer. Diane deserves for her work to be published.”

He nodded and turned to go again but she stopped him a second time.

“Will you let me give you one piece of advice before you go?”

He looked at her expectantly.

“Fliss,” “What about her?”

“The way she was fighting your corner before, the things she was saying, well, it almost made me proud to be your mother.” Evelyn gave him a smile. “Don’t let that girl go.”

“I don’t intend to.” Frank shook his head, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards slightly. “Goodbye Evelyn.”

***** Greg wasn’t overly impressed with Frank’s display of recklessness, his yell down the phone of “you dumb-ass mother fucker,” was loud enough for Fliss, Mary and Roberta to hear. With a grimace, Frank headed out of the apartment and explained what had happened and Greg listened, before promising to set the ball rolling right away. Two hours later he called back having spoken the woman from the Welfare Department who had been managing the fostering arrangements.

“She’s happy, given Evelyn’s seeming lack of contention, for Mary to stay in your care for the immediate future.”

“Immediate future?” Frank held his breath. “What does that mean?”

“It means that we’ll need to go back to court to obtain formal Guardian status. But, given your Mother’s U-Turn, and the Foster Parents being surprisingly supportive of you, there’s no way this is going anywhere but in your favour.” Greg’s voice was full of warmth and Frank let out a sigh of relief. “I’ll organise the paper work and we’ll file for a hearing as soon as possible but it could be after thanksgiving. I got another big custody case going on now so…” “So there’s no way she’s gonna be taken?” Frank pressed.

“I’d bet my house on it.” Greg informed, making Frank smile “The only potential bump in the road here now is if your mother requests formal access or visitation rights.” “Well if she does, I’m not opposed to her having a relationship with Mary, but it’s done on Mary’s terms, not hers.” Frank replied. “And being reasonable like that will go even more in your favour.” Greg chuckled “I’ll get the paper work sorted on Monday. So in the mean-time enjoy your weekend and do me a favour and take Fliss on a date will ya?”

With a laugh and assurances that he was going to try at least, Frank headed back inside to be hit with a barrage of noise as Journey “Don’t Stop Believing” was blaring out of the stereo. Mary was on the sofa, bouncing up and down as she sang whilst Fliss had hold of her hands, moving them back and forth as they danced. Frank leaned against the doorframe and simply watched them until Roberta moved over and dragged him into the middle of their group. Mary threw herself at him and he caught her with a loud huff which was followed by a laugh as she reached up and ruffled his hair.

A few hours and a Chinese takeout later, Mary was fast asleep and both Fliss and Roberta decided it was time to go. Gently lifting Mary from where she was led with her head in Fliss’ lap, Frank tucked her in bed fully clothed (like it mattered) and then headed outside. He said goodnight to Roberta, the woman hugging him and Fliss before he walked Fliss back down to the jeep.

“Thank you for today.” He looked at her as they walked. “I never knew you had such a fierce side.”

“Well, I spent so long being trampled and stepped on, sometimes I like it when my inner lioness makes an appearance.” she smirked at him.

“You certainly made an impression on my Mother.”

“Oh, yeah.” Fliss winced “I kinda..well not kinda, I…err…I shouted at her. Called her a cold hearted bitch.” “Yeah I heard that bit” Frank snorted and Fliss scoffed.

“In my defence, she started it, she called me a jumped up dressage tart.”

“Well that’s just rude.” Frank agreed “You show-jump.” Fliss stopped by her jeep and looked at him before she burst out laughing and Frank grinned. There was a pause before Frank looked down at the floor and then back at Fliss “You know, she gave me one final piece of advice as I left.” “Oh yeah? What was that? Buy a mosquito net? A Bug zapper? No, wait, she told you to get a string vest and a banjo didn’t she?”

Frank shook his head grinning. “She told me not to let you go.” He said, holding Fliss’ gaze before she looked down, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Although the banjo does sound fun.” “Piss off.” She said gently with a grin, shoving him in his chest. He caught her wrist softly and then moved his hand to tangle their fingers together, looking down at her small palm against his before he looked back at her.

“You know, if this was a movie I’d use some really shit cliché here like oh, you came into my world and turned my life inside upside down.” he shrugged, “but my life was already upside down and inside out, and you,” he let out a breath, “you just help put it back to where it should be. You make everything better Lissy and these last few months without you in my corner..." he trailed off as her eyes locked onto his, shining in the dim light, his thumb gently skating the back of her hand. "Look, I know you said I wasn’t in a position to know what I want but I do. I really do. And it’s for you to be part of this, albeit, royally fucked up life I have." As he looked at her he spotted the twinkle in her eye as she smiled at him, her hand squeezing his.

“I think it's about time you took me sailing don’t you?"

He gave a laugh and nodded “Yeah, yeah I do. Does tomorrow work?”

“Works just fine, Sailor.” she grinned, standing on her toes. She placed a soft kiss to the side of his mouth and it took every inch of self-control Frank had not to grab her and kiss the life out of her, but he knew now wasn’t the moment.

Instead he smiled as she stepped back, and climbed into her car. He shut the door for her as she wound he window down, starting up the engine.

“My last lesson is at three so I can be ready for any time after five.” She smiled up at him as he leaned on the roof her her car with his hand.

“Okay, I’ll text you.”

“Looking forward to it.” She beamed, and with a final smile and a tap on the roof of her car he stepped back and watched her drive off up the road.

**** Chapter 10

#riding high #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #gifted #gifted fan fic

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lesbianlotties · 3 years

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the only touchstone of truth - chapter 6/7

Chapter: 6/7 Fandom: I Care A Lot (2020) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fran/Marla Grayson Characters: Marla Grayson, Fran (I Care A Lot) Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Origin Story, Canon Backstory, First Meetings, First Kiss, First Dates, Getting Together, Morally Ambiguous Character, Illegal Activities, Eventual Smut, Flirting, Partners in Crime, crime wives

It’s Sunday… probably. As if the events of the previous night weren’t incredible enough to erase most reasonable thoughts from her mind, there was a pair of wicked lips and misleadingly delicate hands currently doing some very distracting things to Fran’s body. She was lying on her side and Marla was pressing her body to hers from behind.

“Hm… no, it’s too early,” she distantly murmured, even if her body wasn’t exactly putting up a fight.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Marla whispered, amusement and deep hunger coating her tone, “I like to seize the day.” Then she became even more purposeful in her actions. Her lips went from kissing Fran’s neck to softly biting the tan skin. Her fingers that had been brushing the soft skin of her waist to get her to wake up, finally started moving south to their real destination.

Fran sighed. Her eyes were still closed but her legs were instinctively making room for Marla to work. The blonde barely had to tease her. It was as if no time at all had passed from their activities from the previous night, so Marla found the other woman ready and responsive to her touches.

In a matter of minutes Fran’s hips were twitching against Marla’s palm, she was unabashedly moaning, and blindly she reached out with a hand behind her to grasp Marla’s blonde messy hair and bring her closer. “Fuck, I love you body,” Marla whispered, and kept up a trail of compliments that grew increasingly suggestive until she had the woman in her arms whimpering her name as she reached her climax.

Fran tried to slow down her erratic breathing. There was a deep pleasurable warmth that she felt deep in her bones. Marla was tenderly kissing her temple. “Okay, now you can go back to sleep,” Marla said. That made Fran chuckle, but she wasn’t about to argue. She only turned around and wrapped an arm around Marla, until both of them drifted off to sleep once more.

“Don’t you ever rest?” Fran wondered, squinting her eyes to look up at the blonde sitting on the bed beside her.

“I’m unemployed, Fran,” Marla reminded her without looking away from her phone, and without stilling the fingers from her other hand that had been softly playing with the other woman’s hair, “Rest from what?”

The brunette chuckled and closed her eyes again, determined to get a few extra minutes of sleep. “You did burn a building last night,” she mumbled with amusement. Her reward was a proud laugh coming from Marla. “Make yourself at home,” Fran yawned, “just give me five more minutes.”

“Sure,” Marla put down her phone and then leaned down to leave a kiss on Fran’s lips, “I’ll go make coffee.”

The blonde slid off the bed and as she searched for something to wear, her mind wandered off. Staying for breakfast at a woman’s home wasn’t exactly part of her routine, but somehow it felt like the only obvious thing to do with Fran. Not only did she find herself wearing one of Fran’s t-shirts, but there was a strong and unfamiliar feeling that made her stop in the doorway of the bedroom and turn around to gaze at the sleeping woman in the bed. Red alarms went off in her mind for the way she already felt so attached to Fran, and perhaps even more alarming was how easily it was to ignore those warnings. Fran was a part of her life now, and she was determined to keep it that way.

Marla had one hand gripping the mess of white sheets of the bed, another hand lost in the mess of brown curls of Fran’s head, which was currently at work in between her thighs. A loud moan escaped her when her hips pushed forward to get closer to whatever magic tricks Fran was pulling out of her. She could practically feel her smirking against her. “Your coffee,” Marla sighed, impressed with how difficult Fran made it for her to even speak, “it’s going to get cold.”

This got Fran to pull her face away from Marla, who had to bite her bottom lip to keep herself from making any sounds that would betray how disappointed she truly was. Fran could see it in her face though. “Let it get cold,” she said in a husky voice. Then she smiled, still making eye contact with the woman she crazy for, and slowly lowered her face once more. A moment later, Marla was throwing her head back against the pillows, overcome with pleasure.

“This is good,” Marla said, taking another bite of pancakes, part of the breakfast they were enjoying while still in bed.

“You sound surprised,” Fran retorted, her lips slightly tilting in amusement. She let Marla put on a defensive face for a second, then she shrugged. “Fine, I’m not a great cook. I can make three meals at most, but they’re all fantastic, okay?”

The blonde hummed warmly. “I believe you. Now I just need to try those other two meals to judge for myself.” She picked up one of the strawberries and offered it to Fran, who made a good show out of eating it off her fingers.

During a lull of the conversation, with Marla looking perfectly at home sipping coffee while leaning on the pillows of Fran’s bed, the brunette mindlessly scrolled through her phone until something caught her eye.

“Do you want to hear the news about your little stunt last night?”

“Little stunt? I thought I was the best you ever had,” Marla replied.

After she was done laughing, Fran raised an eyebrow at her, “I didn’t say such a thing.” She wouldn’t say it either, not for a long time, when they would both realize each of them were the best part of each other’s lives, in more ways than one.

Marla thought about it for a moment. “Are they good news?”

“Yeah,” Fran looked at her phone, her eyebrows furrowing just slightly as she read. “And there aren’t any old colleagues knocking on my door so it looks like you’re in the clear for now.”

This made Marla nod. The feeling of success warmed her body like almost nothing else. It was a job well done and she knew that. The satisfaction was enough. “Then I’ll read them later. We’ll talk business later,” she decided, and the brunette sent an intrigued look her way. “For now, let’s finish this.”

Fran’s only response was a smile, a beautiful and bright smile. They continued their breakfast, talking, stealing kisses, and enjoying each other’s company. The success of her plan of revenge wasn’t even the number one thing in Marla’s mind. The one thing she couldn’t shake off her head was how incredibly beautiful was Fran’s genuine and carefree smile.

“Fran, don’t you dare.”

There was just something captivating about the way Marla spoke. Mostly everything she said. But especially things like that little warning. Marla was dangerously good with words and even more powerful with their undertones. When she talked, she left you with no doubt there was some secret meaning to whatever she said. There just had to be something else, something that twisted your perception of whatever she meant in order to be beneficial to her and only her. And yet. It was different when she addressed Fran. There were tricks and hidden meanings, sure. But she just gave the feeling that Fran was in on her secrets or, at least, that she was invited to try and figure it out.

So, Fran didn’t hesitate when she walked behind Marla and wrapped her arms around her. The blonde was doing the dishes and she sighed happily when Fran started kissing her neck, so that must have been a sign that she didn’t misinterpret her words.

Still, “Do you want me to leave you alone?” Fran breathed next to her ear. She would respect Marla’s wishes, at this moment, and speaking about life in general too. She would leave, if that’s what Marla wanted.

“Don’t you dare.”

That was it. Repeating her own words, now Marla was being as sincere as she was capable of. There was a mutual feeling that this was about more than what was about to go down in Fran’s kitchen. But still, Marla leaned her head to one side, exposing more of her neck for Fran to work with, and encouraged her to go on with whatever she had planned.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Fran happily chuckled. Her hands started to work, caressing the top of Marla’s thighs, slowly inching upward and pushing up her old t-shirt, the only thing still on Marla’s body. “I’ve got you,” she whispered.

The day was progressing slowly and pleasurably. The last thing Marla wanted was to walk away from Fran. She didn't want to overstay her welcome, but luckily for her, every time she so much as reluctantly mentioned the time, Fran was eager to prove how much she wanted her there. The problem was, Marla was still keenly aware that her life and business had crumbled over completely. She had nothing. Nothing but this idyllic fantasy with Fran. She only needed to make sure this could become a reality for them. And then…

“What are you thinking of?”

The question startled Marla. She had been standing by the window, holding a new cup of coffee and this time wearing a button-up shirt from the brunette’s closet. Speaking of which, the owner of the shirt was laying on the bed, studying her with sweet, passionate, and frighteningly clever brown eyes.

“Too much shit,” Marla shrugged.

“Care to share?”

“It might be a turn off,” Marla raised an eyebrow. She was deflecting, they both knew it. But Fran looked equally amused and patient. “Are you sure,” Marla asked with a huff, “you don’t want me to leave already?”

“Marla,” Fran looked at her, her eyes were sincere, but she knew how to treat Marla like a lioness, with respect not to scare her away, but with affection to earn her trust. So her next words were carefully playful. “I’ll kick you out whenever I want. But, if you have nowhere else to be, I still have plans that involve getting you on this bed.”

The two of them exchange a smile. There was no need to say more at the moment. As long as the two of them wanted to be together, there was no need to pretend. It was an unexpected but pleasant feeling of belonging at someone else’s side without any sort of pressure to be someone they weren’t.

“I need a job,” Marla blurted out. Well, it was difficult for Marla Grayson to simply blurt out something. There weren't any accidents in her vocabulary. As she continued to speak, it was clear the words had been growing into a calculated speech over time. “I hate jobs though. That’s why I started my own business.”

During the pause, Fran tilted her head. “Are you broke?” she asked.

“I’ve always been,” she scoffed. “Poor, technically. It’s not my thing though. So, I fight back. Whatever it takes. I just need to find… something new. A new business. New plan.”

Fran nodded. “If it’s any help,” she added, “let me remind you I quit my job.”

There was a totally unexpected mixture of pride and guilt inside Marla upon hearing that. Fran had been counting on the money from their win at court, and that had failed. Still, she’d quit that awful job.

“What about the private investigator, bounty hunter gig?” Marla wondered.

“What? Are you worried I’ll track you down if you left any traces last night?”

Marla shook her head fondly. She left her coffee cup on the dresser and walked over to the bed. Then she leaned in and kissed Fran. her hand landing on her jaw and holding her close. However, after a few more seconds of it, it was Fran who pulled back.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly. She was able to tell the other woman was not into it as she’d been since the previous night.

“Yes, absolutely. Sorry,” Marla shook her head again and took a seat on the bed in front of Fran. “Just… ideas.”

Not problems. Ideas. That had to be one of the best things about Marla. Obstacles were opportunities to come out a winner. Problems were just ways to turn things around for her benefit. That was Marla Grayson. And, for Fran, that was something mesmerizing to watch first-hand. But, why not, also something she’d kill to be a part of.

“Don’t let me stop you,” Fran replied, leaning back and getting comfortable.

“What?” Marla frowned. It was an oddity to catch her off guard, and Fran already knew she should treasure the way the blonde looked when she was honestly confused.

“You said you had ideas, right? Let’s hear ‘em,” Fran said. She was confident, and even when she saw hesitation in Marla’s face she leaned closer and added. “Come on. I encouraged you to go big at court because I seriously believed you have what it takes. I saw you last night, Marla. You are brilliant and, well, a little awful, but I… I’m into it. I want to see more of that. You know I could help you. Don’t we make a great team?”

“That’s an understatement,” Marla smiled, and it was a surprisingly sweet smile. She reached out and grabbed Fran’s hand, ready to say what they’d both been holding back for so long. “But it’s got to be more than just work, isn’t it? I mean, it is for me, Fran.”

For Fran, who found herself similarly mesmerized by Marla’s impressively cunning character as well as her rare displays of vulnerability, this was a moment that changed something in her heart forever. Of course it was about so much more than work. “I’m all in,” Fran promised. Her other hand moved lovingly to Marla’s check. “You got me.”

Afterward, Marla seemed to breathe easier and speak more confidently, if possible. It was very significant to Fran that she apparently had as much of an effect on Marla as the blonde had on her.

“Well then,” Marla cleared her throat, “how comfortable are you with… toying with the law?”

Fran chuckled. “Marla, I was in the police. Which is… admittedly worse than even you and I are. But, one thing I learned during my time there, is how not to break the law… but how to bend it to your will. And you, baby, have the strongest will I’ve ever seen.”

“Okay,” Marla nodded, her piercing blue eyes darkening. “Next, I’ll need you to tell me how you locked your mom in a care home to steal this really nice place for yourself.”

“My mom?” Fran scrunched up her face in confusion.

“I’ll explain. Just… later,” Marla sighed happily, leaning in once again to kiss Fran, this time even more earnestly than ever before.

#someone (me) is desperate for attention and writing fanfiction to cope with life #i care a lot #marla x fran #marla grayson #fran #ical #i care a lot fanfiction #my fic

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