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wannabemobwife · 3 years

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I miss her too

Pairings: Dad!Tom Holland x reader

Summary: Your and Tom’s daughter comes home having made something at school, for you. She desires to share it with you any way possible.

Warnings: sad, typos, mentions of death

Word Count: 1.3K

A/n: I’m back. Hoping to start part 2 to Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas. This a short blurb or possible one shot, whatever you call it. Still new to this. Wrote this spur the moment. Flashbacks are in bold.

Tom made it a priority to have dinner every night with his daughter, Poppy. It was a tradition that you reinforced. One that Tom liked to keep around even after. You would cook all these elaborate meals And Tom tries to live up to your cooking skills but would ultimately fail and seek the help of Sam.

Tom set the table and served Poppy as she sat at table, swinging her legs back and forth. There, sat the 5 year old girl, across from Tom. He watched her as she fiddled with her fork, just rearranging the veggies on her plate, not bothering to eat.

“So love, how was daycare?” Tom inquired curbing as he watched his daughter fiddle with her fork, just rearranging the veggies on her plate, not bothering to eat.

“We made cards for mumma’s day,” Poppy explained all giddy inside.

“Mother’s day?” Tom asked, his mind drifting elsewhere. He couldn’t believe it was already May and it was the first one without you.

“Yes, mine has pretty flowers on it. Wanna see it?” Poppy grew excited she practically jumped out of her chair.

“Sure baby doll, you can show me after dinner,” Tom murmured, still caught up on the fact that it was almost 5 months since.

“I’ll go get it!”

“Poppy wait, wash your hands first, please.” Tom called out but knew Poppy would carry on just like before. That girl marched to the beat of her own drum but Tom indulged in every beat. She is the spitting image of you.

“Here, look I wrote something.” She said holding the card up in front of him. It was adorned with glitter and stickers. Pink construction paper, pink flowers and pink doodles. Pink was Poppy’s favorite color, everything was pink from her shoes to her hair bows.

“C’mere lovie, show me,” Tom whispered, pulling her into her lap. “Darling this is so beautiful. What did you write?”

“It says, happy mumma’s day mumma. I love you soooooo much. I miss you too, so does dadda. We miss you.” She said with her faint lisp.

Tom listened to his daughter struggle to get the words out. Focusing on her breathing as she sounded out most words. He tried to only focus on that. Not letting his mind to stray to place he has been avoiding for a few months.

Next week marks the time stamp of living 5 months without you. Without your smile in the morning. Without your laugh that was so infectious at the time it would make your newborn giggle til she was burdened with a case of the hiccups. Without your love.

Life grew darker and sadder, but Tom didn’t give himself the chance to grieve. Too busy worrying about the life you both brought into the world. The girl that lite up his life was his only priority. Everything changed when his beautiful and amazing family of three became a two.

Tom now rarely took jobs outside of London, wanting to stay close for Poppy. He felt guilty always leaving her with his parents all the time. No one really knows how kids at the age process a loss but he hoped Poppy would remember all the amazing moments of you.

Ones that held a special place in his heart were right after the sun had risen. Poppy’s wake up calls.

She did the same thing since he can remember. Always busting through the door in the morning. Jumping on t bed then begging for food. It was good thing you were a morning person.

One time when you were weaker than you had ever been, she jumped right on top of you.

“Mumma! Dadda! Wake up!” You were jolted out of sleep from a shock that rang through your fragile frame. You gasped at the sudden body slammed on top of yours.

“Poppy Marie Holland! What did we talk about being careful with mommy? Honey are you okay?” Tom shouted quietly.

“I’m ok, Tom. I really am,” you said breathlessly.

“I’m sorry Mumma, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Poppy whispered.

“It’s ok baby, c’mere. So what did you dream about my flower,” you said, pulling her into your lap as you peppered kisses all over her face. Giggles erupted as you pressed a finger to her nose.

“Well I dreamt of…” Poppy would trail off to these fantastical dreams. It amazes you how she could think such imaginative scenes.

Every morning was like that. Different topics of conversation but always began with a dose of Poppy bright and early.

Even after everything. It was a grad adjust for her. One minute you were there and next you weren’t.

Tom’s nightly routine shifted. Every night he would go to sleep dreaming of you. Dreaming of the life you were supposed to share. And every morning he would wake up with tears in his eyes as he felt the empty side of the bed.

Desperately trying to bring himself back to the place with you in it. It was a gut punch every morning, always coming to the realization that you were gone.

However, like clockwork he is reminded of the one shining star in his life as she bursts into his room and hops on the bed. Jumping up and down to get him to wake up.

“Dadda, wake up. Wake up!” Poppy shouted as she waddled up to the bed, trying to climb on. Her nightgown was a little too big, but she wore it because you had.

“Daddy’s awake lovie. Just one second.” Tom jolted, brushing the wetness from his eyes.

“Come on, I want pancakes,” Poppy pleaded.

“Pancakes huh? Mommy’s specialty with Mnm’s inside?” Tom reminisced at all the mornings of breakfast together as a full family.

“Ya, can momma make them?” Poppy asked, it was hard for her to understand the events that just occurred. Tom wasn’t very good at explaining it either. The most he could muster up, is mommy’s not here anymore.

Leaving out the word “dead” or “passed away” was denying the truth from him as well. It was all too new and he didn’t know how he could accept it just yet.

“Lovie, we have talked about this remember? Mommy is not here anymore.”

“When will she be back? I miss her.”

“Umm, darling mommy is never coming back, remember baby. I told you mommy had to leave but wasn’t her choice. Lovie, I miss her too everyday,” Tom said, holding back tears.

“Dadda?” Spoke Poppy as she noticed the wet streaks across Tom’s face. Trying to bring attention back to her.

“Yes, baby.” Tom said, coming out of his trance. Tears riddled his face as he thought of all the stuff that Poppy will miss out on. More specially what you will never get to experience with her.

“Why are you sad Dadda? Did I make you sad?” Poppy asked, trying to comfort Tom the best way she knows how.

“Oh no darling. Not at all.”

“Are you sad because you miss mumma?” Poppy mumbled, her eyes getting stuck to the ground.

Tom just nodded and pressing soft kisses to her forehead. He could only hold back so many tears.

“I miss her too. You never go to the place anymore where you talk to her. I want to talk to her like you do,” Poppy pleaded.

“Lovie what place?”

“The one with the statues. You never take me anymore. We only went twice with nana. But no more,” Poppy said as she started to cry along with him.

“The cemetery?” Tom asked.

She nodded, sniffing away the tears. “Mumma misses us like we miss her. I don’t want her to think we forgot about her. I made the card because. I want to give her my card. Can we go?”

“Yes baby, I’ll take you. I promise you, you’ll never forget her. I even have videos I can show you later with her in them,” Tom explained.

“Dadda I love you,” Poppy said wrapping her hand around his neck.

“I love you too, my flower.”

Masterlist

A/n: sorry the ending sucked, endings are hard

#tom holland x y/n #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland au #tom holland blurb #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland masterlist #tom holland fan fiction smut

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mcustorm · 3 years

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In Defense of a Black Cyclops

In case my username didn’t make it clear, the single most anticipated visual project for me is the MCU’s interpretation of the X-Men, which hasn’t even been announced yet [officially]. And ladies and gents, I have found your Cyclops:

Good ol’ Alfred Enoch, who we all know from Harry Potter and How to Get Away With Murder. If you’re not familiar with HTGAWM, know that his character goes from the de facto leader of the ragtag (murderers) and most cherished protege of Viola Davis’ Professor X to taking more of a grimdark turn after his girlfriend’s death. Sound at least somewhat familiar?

Enoch also embodies the physicality of the character well, seeing as to how he’s “slim”, 6′4(!!), black, and notoriously lanky. Wait, one of these isn’t like the others.

In general I hate fancasting. Everyone generally picks from the same pool of about 30 actors (Peeps, neither Taron nor Daniel is a good Wolverine choice. Argue with your mother!), and most all of it is based on physicality, except when it absolutely should be (like say, choosing a ~5′10 dark-skinned black woman for Storm).

And I think there’s some malarkey afoot. I think there needs to be some serious consideration on part of fancasters and actual casting agents alike to rethink race when it comes to the [white] X-Men, especially since they’re the X-Men of all teams. So I’ll make the case for a black Cyclops:

1. There is no quota on Black X-Men: There’s a bug in your ear that’s been whispering lies to you for years, it says something to the effect of “We need a black person on the team for diversity. How bout Storm?” And you’ve gotten complacent. Storm does not have to be the only black person on your X-Men roster.

2. The X-Men represent diversity: Iceman is gay, Cyclops and Prof. X are disabled (sorta), there are plenty of women, oh and everybody except Storm is white. Of the A-List X-Men, there is only *one* POC character. I’d argue that an MCU X-Men needs to champion diversity like never before.

3. The X-Men represent minority struggle while being mostly white: There’s a cognitive dissonance in the metaphor that has always been there, and for the most part, nobody cares. To appeal to the white readers of the 60′s, the X-Men were all initially white. That way, the message of the mutants could be related to the audience with a familiar face. We don’t need to approach the problem that way in 202?

4. Just because that’s the way it’s always been, doesn’t mean that’s the way it should be: The first line of defense. Sorry, that will never be a good justification for literally any idea. It’s time for some more critical thinking.

5. We don’t all want to be Bishop: So say you’re white and you have a kid who for his birthday having a costume party. You’ve bought some X-Men costumes and you want each kid to pick one. 9 white kids and one black kid show up to your house. As the kids deliberate who gets what costume, be it Cyke or Wolvie or whatever, you yell at everybody to “STOP!”, point to the one black kid and tell him “You’re gonna be Bishop. That’s it, end of story!”

We don’t all want to be Bishop. The black child could have the best Cyclops interpretation within him, but you’ll never know if you don’t let him try. And that’s no different from the Black actors of Hollywood. There’s no reason why all of the black talent should *have* to compete for the role of Bishop or Storm, which I’ve discussed, while Joe Schmo can walk up and audition for literally anybody he wants.

Jharrel Jerome is 23 and has an Emmy to his name. He needs to be in the MCU in some capacity, period. Stephan James is another. How bout Damson Idris. Ashton Sanders. But no, no, let’s fancast Dacre Montgomery or Ansel or Joe Keery again as [Human Torch, Wolverine, Iceman, Angel, I’ve literally seen it all.]

6. Nobody wants to see the B-team if it comes down to it. The next line of defense from your racebending naysayers after “That’s the way it’s always been!” is “Well, what about Psylocke, Bishop, Forge and Jubilee?” who are otherwise known as B-tier X-Men. The problem is, we’ve got limited time and limited spots.

So since the X-Men is all about wonky metaphors that make half sense, let me give you another: Let’s say somebody approaches you and says “Hey buddy, I got two free concert tickets for ya! You can either see Michael Jackson Sings the Blues, or you can go see Justin Timberlake. Free of charge!”

Now, are you used to MJ singing the blues? No! Do you have a problem with going to see Justin Timberlake? No, he’s fine on a Wednesday! He had that one little diddy we liked that one time. We’d love to see him eventually! But are you gonna say, “fuck that, I’m going to see MJ Sings the Blues” regardless? Hell yes, because that’s still Michael Jackson. He’s gonna give the same amazing performance he always does, it’s just gonna be the blues. And speaking of blues...

7. Black is not Blue, Brown is not Blue: Raise your hand if you’ve ever heard this one: “I don’t care if you’re black, white, purple, or green, I’m going to treat you all the same!” I will not say all have this intention, but some fancasters have noticed that the racial diversity is kinda low within the A-List X-Men, so they oh-so-generously give the following roles to a black or brown person: Iceman, Nightcrawler, Beast.

Notice the pattern? It’s a microaggression, and it’s bullshit. What these fancasters are implicitly telling you is that, yes the actors will be black or brown, but when the action starts we can ignore that. They’ll be blue by then. In other words, you in fact do care if they’re purple or green. Nobody will cry foul if Dev Patel gets to play Nightcrawler (because that’s a common one I see), but should Anna Diop be Starfire or Michael B. Jordan be Human Torch, I bet there’d be backlash. Oh wait. If that’s you, please stop acting like you actually value diversity. You don’t want to see black or brown skin, period. Unless of course, it’s Storm (refer to point #1).

But wait, there’s more! When brown characters get whitewashed in these movies, it’s crickets! So eventually it’s revealed implicitly that proclaimers of point #4 only care about it one way.

8. Professor X should not be black if you’re not willing to change anyone else: The next line of defense is that some people say the professor should be black, if anybody HAS to be racebent. Something something MLK Jr., Civil Rights or some shit. Number one, I’m not reducing Professor X to being a magical negro for 9 white people (and Storm!) who for all intents and purposes get to have all the action. Number 2, the Professor X/MLK/Magneto/Malcolm X comparison is an oversimplifying disservice to ALL FOUR of those people. I hate that line whenever I see it, please watch a documentary my friends.

9. The Candidates for Racebending: For me, the A-List X-Men are Cyclops, Jean Grey, Iceman, Angel, Beast, Wolverine, Storm, Gambit, Rogue, Colossus, Nightcrawler, and Kitty Pryde. Now, who should be exempt from the racebending? Storm, she’s our designated minority. Gambit, he’s Cajun and they’re white (generally speaking, that’s a fun bit of research). Wolverine, Colossus, and Nightcrawler, because their nationality/ethnicity was the whole point of the Giant-Size premise in the first place. Angel, because his character embodies a privileged white male. Beast and Iceman, I don’t care one way or another (Point #7).

That leaves Cyclops, Rogue, Jean Grey, and Kitty Pryde. Now Jean Grey is a redhead, and we all know that every time a redhead is racebent people sharpen their pitchforks (Mary Jane, Wally West, Iris West), so I will cede the ground on Jean if only so that my ginger friends can get their rep. Kitty Pryde is Jewish, but Jews of color exist. Rogue is from the South. And Cyclops is, well, just Cyclops. That makes those three characters good options for more diversity. But allow me to make the case for Cyclops, specifically.

10. It’s not just diversity for diversity’s sake: If you had to pick who the main character of the X-Men is supposed to be, most would say Cyclops. And so in a series that highlights racial discrimination in society, it makes sense that our main character be black. While changing Cyclops’ skin color should not change who he is as a character, it *should* recontextualize it. Now, as an eventual increasingly radical leader of the X-Men, Cyclops would evoke real life figures such as Colin Kaepernick or, shall I say, Martin Luther King, Jr.

Not that most X-Men fans and writers truly think about what it means to be black anyways. Storm’s minority status is almost always put through the lens of her being a mutant and not her being a black woman. In other words, you can’t argue that making a character black will fundamentally change his or her character when you haven’t even analyzed the racial context of the black character(s) you already have. Another concept that the MCU X-Men should tackle: intersectionality.

11. Representation matters: I have to say it: Chadwick Boseman’s Black Panther hit different. And now he is tragically gone. At the end of the day, the MCU moving forward is down its most prominent black male superhero. Which has implications beyond just the movies themselves.

The women are in good hands. Shuri, Okoye, and Nakia are badasses in Wakanda, Valkyrie is ruling Asgard, Storm is almost assuredly on the way, RiRi Williams has already been cast, and Monica Rambeau is here and she’s not even at her most glorious yet. That doesn’t even include variable Δ, or the number of characters who can and will be racebent. And I’ll note again that to me, Gamora doesn’t count, because she’s green (#7 really pisses me off because it’s so blatant. I hate it). Of course from a behind the camera perspective we love black women getting work.

The men are a completely different story. Imma just go out and say it, I can’t stand Falcon and War Machine [in the MCU] because they’re not characters, they’re just two of a slew of MCU minority sidekicks who have essentially been at the beck and call of Captain America and Iron Man, respectively. You cannot tell Falcon’s story without mentioning Cap. The reverse is not true. There’s a whole essay that could be and have been written on “Minorities in the MCU, pre-Black Panther”. Remember, there’s a reason BP made so much noise in the first place.

So excluding those two we have, let’s see, M’Baku, Blade, and Fury who aren’t exactly the most superheroic superheroes, Eli Bradley is proooobably coming, I doubt Miles Morales is coming (because he’s just Peter Parker in the MCU), Luke Cage(?) Bishop(??), Sunspot(???), Blue Marvel(????). Not only are they not A-List, I would not put money on any of them being in the MCU any time soon.

Cyclops is thee Captain America of the X-Men. He’s the frontman. He’s the poster boy. He’s the “boy scout”, which in other words means he’s the hero, if there has to be one. It would mean a lot right now, and specifically *right now*, if he were to be black. The MCU needs it. It NEEDS it.

12. The X-Men is the Summers Story: I’ll even make the case that if just one character needs to racebent, then it should be Cyclops, because that of course implies that other related characters need to be black because half of the X-Men universe is in fact a part of the Summers family.

So now Cable is black. Corsair is black. Havok is black. And one of the most central stories in the X-Men mythos, the Summers family drama, is now a black family drama set in space or the future or where the fuck ever. The concept is boundary pushing. When white families have drama in the media, it gets to be Game of Thrones or Star Wars, while when black families have drama in the media, it has to be black people arguing in a kitchen or living room about their various earthly traumas (I’m @’ing you, Mr. Perry). I mean, that’s all fine and good often times, but I want my black family drama in space, dammit.

And again, this is the X-Men, the series that’s all about *minorities* and their struggle, so again, why not?

Oh, and I’ll even throw out a Havok fancast for you: How bout Jharrel Jerome?

#cyclops #scott summers #the mutants #monica rambeau #X-men #xmen #marvel #MCU #fancast #jharrel would actually be a better sunspot #but you get the point #my man would have OPTIONS

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dcforts · 3 years

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[day 4: cooking and baking]

Now, Bobby Singer didn’t always exactly enjoy having Sam and Dean around – he was used to living alone and he liked his routine; they got loud when they bickered and he always had to make sure they were clean and fed and far from the stuff he had laying around that they weren’t supposed to touch.

He never wanted to be a father after all, nor get stuck running a daycare for hunters for that matter, but he just couldn’t bring himself to say no to John whenever he asked, even if he had his garage to run and hunting on the side.

He felt bad for them. He might have known nothing about raising children, but he sure knew that they were supposed to have a home, not to be dragged across the country in an old car, exposed to all kinds of dangers.

So, if washing an extra set of bedsheets and hiding his booze and getting a headache or two from their feet stomping upstairs meant giving them a roof over their head for a few days, a familiar place where to feel safe and proper food in their belly – if one could count canned soup as proper food – then he could bite the bullet.

And they were good kids, they always did what he told them and never complained about anything.

Even when one year they got stuck at his place on Christmas Eve. The air was heavy around the dinner table and Bobby had turned on the tv in an attempt to liven up the atmosphere and distract them. Still, they remained quiet, hunched over their plates wearing gloomy faces.

Their father was supposed to pick them up but he’d called and said he wasn’t gonna make it. Bobby knew it was gonna happen as soon as he’d heard the phone ringing that afternoon.

"But it’s Christmas!” he’d hissed angrily trying not to be heard by the kids, “What am I supposed to tell them?”

“Uh - I don’t know, Bobby," John had replied, with that tone he got when he was uninterested in what you were saying and had already uncorked one too many beers. "It’s just this one time.”

When Bobby had delivered the news, Dean had shouted "Why hasn’t he called me?" and Sam had grumbled "You should have convinced him", so they most likely hated him too.

Bobby didn’t take it personally, if he were a kid he sure wouldn’t have liked to spend Christmas with someone like him and without his only parent.

Bobby didn’t do holidays at all. He hanged a wreath on the front door just cause he kept it in the hallway all year round. He made himself a turkey sandwich. He enjoyed a classic movie just as the next guy and he passed out on the couch with a glass of store-bought eggnog. That was it. It was not like he had anyone to share it with. It had been like that for years and he didn’t mind.

Knowing that the kids would be around though, he’d hanged on the window a string of lights he’d found in the basement and had put on display a weird looking statue of an elf - although if he wasn’t sure if it was Christmas related or just an old dark artifact. The boys had spared those things barely a glance and not brought up Christmas at all so Bobby had just figured that they didn’t do holidays either.

But then a commercial featuring a big holiday banquet came on tv for the umpteenth time, filling the kitchen with its obnoxious jingle and Dean finally spoke up.

“Hey Bobby,” he asked, tearing his eyes from the tv. “Did your mother ever bake for the holidays?”

Bobby didn’t even remember the last time he’d talked about his mother with anyone. It always brought up bittersweet memories he didn’t like to deal with. Still, he cleared his throat, “Sure,” he said, but now Sam was watching him too so he added, “she was a good baker - made a mean blueberry pie.”

Dean gave him a small smile. “Really?”

“Yeah, and she’d always make two, one for everyone and another one just for me."

“A whole pie? Just for you?" Sam asked with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

"I could eat that," intervened Dean immediately.

Bobby snorted, “Yeah, I know that, kid."

Dean smiled proudly, but then Sam said "You couldn’t, Dean. You’d get sick."

"No, I wouldn’t," he shot back.

"Yes, you would. Not even an adult can - "

"What do you know, if you never - ”

“I know - ”

Bobby groaned and got up from the table to start collecting the dirty dishes, "Alright, break it up".

They fell into silence again as he put the dishes in the sink and started washing them.

"Go get ready for bed."

He heard the scraping of chair legs on the floorboards, but he was still thinking about his mother and didn’t realize that only one pair of shoes had left the room and the other one had come to stand next to him.

"Does your oven work?" Dean said, making him jump.

"Wh- my oven? Yeah. Why?”

"Just ‘cause... you never use it," was his reply, a little unsure.

"That don’t mean it don’t work."

"Have you ever used it?”

"Can’t remember, honestly.”

"Mum used to bake pies for me too," Dean said then. "Sammy wasn’t there so he gets upset when I talk about it."

Bobby gave him half a smile. "Bet Mary's pies were the best, uh?”

"Yeah", he said, but he sounded thoughtful. He still made no move to leave and Bobby didn’t know what else to say. The last thing he wanted was to make the boy sad, or worse, make him cry for his mom.

He started working faster on drying those dishes.

"Maybe your father remembers the recipe. You should ask him,” he said, casually.

Apparently it was the wrong thing to say. Dean tugged the hem of his jacket and looked at him with the most scared expression Bobby had ever seen on him. “Don’t!" he said, "Please. Dad doesn’t like talking about these things. Don’t tell him I told you."

Bobby gritted his teeth and tried to not let his rage show on his face. He put down the rag and grabbed one of his shoulder, “It’s okay, Dean. I won’t.”

Dean gulped and quickly nodded and Bobby itched for a drink.

“Now go. It’s time for bed.”

"Yes, sir," said Dean.

“You don’t have to cal-” he started, then sighed, “Nevermind. Just go.”

As he heard the door upstair close he opened the highest cabinet and grabbed his bottle of scotch. He sat down to pour himself a glass, took his cap off and rubbed his forehead.

His hands tightened into fists at the thought of John. How could he leave them like that? What would’ve happened if he’d died on a hunt? Who would have cared for them? Bobby certainly couldn’t – John couldn’t possibly expect –

The tv was still on.

His second glass was already empty when that stupid holiday commercial with that stupid jingle came on once again. Annoyed, Bobby stood up to turn it off and that’s when Dean came to his mind and a thought hit him.

The kid wanted a damn pie.

He just didn’t know how to ask, or even if he could ask. And of course he would think that, with that father of his, his taboos and his rules. Bobby felt anger and stubborness rise in him.

If the kid wanted a goddamn pie, Bobby would’ve given him a goddamn pie. Even if he had to drive for miles at the crack of dawn on Christmas Day for blueberries.

And now where the fuck did he put Karen’s recipe book?

The morning after, he cracked the bedroom door open and Dean blinked awake as soon as he brushed his shoulder.

“Don’t wake your brother. Come downstairs," he whispered, motioning him to be quiet.

In the daylight Bobby was willing to admit that he was a little nervous about his idea.

Yet he couldn’t resist watching Dean’s face as he entered the kitchen ten minutes later and stopped in his track when he saw flour, eggs, sugar and blueberries lined up on the counter.

It was like his face couldn’t settle on an emotion. He frowned, smiled, frowned again. Then he just looked at Bobby as if he was asking him what he was supposed to do or say.

"I was thinking it’s about time I make that oven work again. What you say? Wanna bake your own pie?"

Dean surprised himself with a laugh. "But Bobby - I don’t – I never -"

"What, you think I do?" Bobby shrugged, "If it’s bad, we’ll just throw it out."

Dean seemed too overwhelmed to say anything. He just nodded.

Bobby went towards him. "See, I got this book here, it was my wife’s. We’re more than capable to follow a bunch of instructions, right?"

It took way longer than Bobby had anticipated, and surely longer than it generally took other people. And it wasn’t easy. At all. Not just because in the last few years he’d reduced his diet to mostly pre-cooked stuff, but especially for the smells that filled the kitchen and the long string of memories attached to them - Karen and his mom, guilt and comfort, sweetness and fear.

But Bobby went through all of it, the fishing out of the egg shells, the spilling of the flour, the hour long wait for the dough to set and the million questions Dean seemed to have – because the boy enjoyed himself.

Bobby was pretty sure of it, from the way he groaned in disgust as he dipped his hands in the mixture with raw eggs, in his cheeky face when he lied about stealing the blueberries they were using, in his clear laugh when Bobby slipped and almost crashed on the dirty floor; all of that made it worth it.

When the oven door was closed and the timer was set, he even sat cross-legged on the tiles to watch it as it baked.

Bobby moved around him to clean the mess they’d made and then went to wash himself up. When he looked himself in the bathroom mirror he saw flour all over his beard and bits of dough on his flannel. He found himself smiling a little.

He might not be able to bring the boys the spirit of Christmas or whatever crap they sold these days, but he would’ve been be satisfied if he managed to make them happier for half a day.

Dean started pounding on the door right in that moment. “Bobby!” he was shouting, “The timer! Hurry up! We need to get it out!”

Bobby’s reflection rolled his eyes and sighed. “Coming!” he shouted back and heard Dean running away again.

When he entered the kitchen half a minute later, Sam had joined Dean in front of the oven. He was still in his pyjamas and looked up at him with sleepy eyes. “Dean’s screams woke me up,” he said.

“Yeah, alright. I’m here, let me through and step back. I don’t want you to get burned.”

As carefully as possible, he took the pie out under the scrutinizing gaze of the brothers. As he sat it on the table he noticed the uneven colour of the crust and the filling that had spilled all over the sides and through the cracks. He made a face. “Well - doesn’t look half bad as far as first attempts go -" he tried to say but his words were drowned by the boys shouting “Whoa!”

"It smells so good," said Dean, wearing a proud smile.

"It’s perfect," said Sam with the solemnity of a renown critic. "Can we try it now?"

"Let’s give it a moment to cool down. You go get dressed. Dean, go wash your hands."

They both sprinted in different directions. Sam immediately ran up the stairs banging a hand on the banister in excitement. Dean bolted in the direction of the downstairs bathroom.

“Be careful!” he thundered.

They both shouted back at once: “Yes, Uncle Bobby!”

A rush of affection washed over him. He shook his head looking down at their pie.

“Merry Christmas kids.”

joining @bend-me-shape-me in this!

#SPNAdventCalendar2020 #spn fanfiction #christmas at bobby's #bobby singer #2k #he does his best - i love him #sam and dean are 7 and 11 i guess #john winchester a+ parenting #i know that im kinda obsessed w bobby but i was thinking that #apart from the kitchenettes in motel rooms #bobby's kitchen was the only real one the boys got to see #maybe pastor jim's ?? we never saw that thought #honestly i have no idea if this fits into canon #but when dean was 10 bobby played catch w him so - why not #also im obsessed w bobby hating john because he sees his abusive father in him #my writing #bobbyverse

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lifeofroos · 3 years

Text

A/N: Bonus This Might Be Crazy - the last bonus This Might Be Crazy if I may add. This one is a lot heavier than the other chapters. Tw for emotional outbursts and self-harm(? not really but watch out for yourself). In short: Nico gets therapy from Dionysus. In this chapter, he is so upset by something he needs to run, run far away from it. Dionysus doesn’t let him.

AO3 - Fanfiction.net - KoFi

Bonus chapter: Hard to Swallow

I was on a run. A run in the middle of the night, in the middle of New York, but still just on a run.

I reached a crossroad. The lights were green, so I could run further. If I stopped now, then… then…

A bus rode by right in front of me. I should have been hit by it - but I wasn’t. Someone was holding me back by my collar.

‘Sorry. I was running.’

‘What is this about, Nico?’

It was a familair voice. ‘I already said so. I was running.’

‘Why are you lying to me?’

He might as well have let the bus hit me. It would have hurt less than those words. The horrible feeling in my stomach rose up again, even though it should have been gone.

‘I… I am not…’ And then I was crying. So much for trying to run my feelings out.

Dionysus spun me around. I almost backed away. Never before had I seen him look so... afraid. ‘Come. You shouldn’t cry at a New York crossroad.’ I let him take me away.

‘For the last few days you’ve been down You kept to yourself more than usual. I tried to talk with you a few times, but you didn’t respond, so I thought you might come to me when you felt ready.’

‘I-I-I would have…’ I bawled.

He shook his head. I didn’t even notice him teleporting us until we were standing in front of our regular Denny’s.

There were no other guests. Mary, behind the counter as always, raised her eyebrows. She pointed towards a table and disappeared into the back.

I couldn’t imagine I looked that bad. Dionysus parked me on one of the couches. Instead of sitting down in front of me, he sat down next to me.

‘I-I know now it wasn’t good, I really do…’ I sobbed.

‘That’s good, but it’s not enough right now. You have to tell me what is going on.’

I slowly shook my head.

‘It’s dangerous if you don’t.’

I felt like crying louder.

‘Get it over with. It will hurt less to tell than it does to keep it in.’

I shook my head. He might hurt me.

‘Is it about a god other than me?’

‘...Y... Yes.’ I couldn’t get any more over my lips.

‘I gave a lot of gods a headache, both when I was a mortal and when I wasn’t. I know what is going on in your head. You’re afraid that if you tell me, it’ll push them over the edge.’ I could only keep crying.

‘I can’t take that fear away, but I can ask you to trust me. A god can punish, but a god can also protect. And I can promise you I care a whole lot more about you than whatever god made you feel like this.’

It took everything to nod.

‘Nico?’

I looked at him.

‘Who did what to you?’

I shook my head again.

‘Tell me, Nico. Please.’

He could wait all night. After all, he had all the time in the world. ‘It’ll be okay. This is my domain. No-one else can hear us.’

His domain. It made a small tear in my defenses, and before I knew it the words streamed out: ‘Zeus came to me in a dream a few night ago. He knows I am making amends with my father. He told me I was not supposed to do that, just like how I wasn’t supposed to be a hero. I was…’ A new wave of tears came out.

Dionysus soothingly stroked my back. ‘You’re doing very, very well. Almost there.’

‘He said I was not meant to be alive, after all.’

I let out a scream. The tears streamed down my face. I was afraid, I was sad, I was ashamed that I let somebody make me feel this way and I was so, so angry.

Dionysus pulled me into a hug. ‘Good, let it out,’ I heard him whisper. I buried my face in his sweater and did as I was ordered.

With time my sobs became quieter. Dionysus let go of me. ‘So Zeus sent you a nightmare. A nightmare in which he told you that, if it was up to him, you wouldn’t have been a hero.’

I nodded.

‘What part made you the most upset?’

I shook my head.

‘Take your time. There must be something.’

‘I am not sure.’

‘Can you tell me what’s the very first thing that came to your mind when I asked that?’

I took a shaky breath. ‘That he feels so threatened by my existence that he felt the need to send me a nightmare about it. Why does it matter so much to him?’ I held up my hand when Dionysus opened his mouth. ‘Wait. No. It’s not my existence, it’s what that existence means. It elevates Hades’ status among gods, which could possibly threaten him.’ I bit my lip.

‘We can speculate on the why later. What matters now is that Zeus hit you when you were already damaged. He got his right long ago, he should have left it there…’ He abruptly stopped his sentence. ‘...What makes you most upset about Zeus being threatened by you?’

It took me a moment to find the words. ‘What… What makes me so upset is how… why does he once again have to be right? Isn’t it enough that he could hurt my mother consequence free because fate demanded it? Isn’t it enough that he stands above everybody else? Why does he have to be right on every single little thing?’ I clenched my fists. ‘Why can’t he just leave me alone!’

Dionysus stared at a point on the other side of the restaurant. He took a deep breath again.

‘.. too close to home?’ I mumbled.

He nodded almost invisibly.

‘Is there anything I can do about it except accept it?’ I felt drained. Drained because I wasted so much energy on something I couldn’t do anything about.

‘Don’t lie to the person trying to help you in the future. That way I can help you accept it and make you see that there are parts of the world beyond what you fixated on.’

I nodded. ‘I am not angry about the tough love.’

He looked at me. ‘I needed to. You almost ran out into traffic. When something like that happens, you waiver your right to stay quiet.’

‘Hm.’ I looked at my hands.

‘I hope you learned that next time something like this happens you immediately come to me. Nico, I-’ he took a deep breath. ‘I was afraid, when I noticed you were running. It isn’t just about this incident, it shows that there is still a lot to work on.’

‘I didn’t mean to run into a bus.’

‘I believe you.’

I nodded. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t even dissappointed, but it still made me feel bad. I swallowed.

‘You need to cry more, still?’

I shrugged. It didn’t feel like it was over, but my throat and face felt raw from the tears.

‘You want something to drink, then? Mary can make something.’

She peeped her head around the corner. ‘Can do. But I would like more information on what just happened in my restaurant.’

A/N: mostly wrote this because I wanted to explore what Dionysus would do when it was really important Nico said something.

As in, when it was dangerous when he didn't.

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nothisis-ridiculous · 3 years

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Take Me Home

Chapter One: Almost Heaven

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite. Ao3.

FemShepxKaidan

"When this is over, I'm going to be waiting for you. You'd better show up."

Those confident words felt hollow, moot. A disguised plea to the universe that she could accomplish the impossible. A prayer to return to the arms that were home.

That was before the searing burns, the blood, and the pain that struck with each beat of her heart. Oh god, the blood was everywhere. Each blink was a calculated risk as the blood threatened to cloud her vision; it meant having to stop find a clean - clean enough- patch of skin to push the liquid from her eyes. Each moment of pause tempted her body with respite, a siren's call for her failing body to expire.

Shepard had to keep moving.

To keep fighting.

They were waiting for her.

He was waiting for her.

"You'd better show up, Alenko. I'm dying here, don't make me die here." They would have been words if she could manage the strength to speak them. Instead, it became a silent anthem. A memento of strength, hope, anything to make her scraped, bruised, and battered body move against the tide of her fading consciousness.

It kicked back.

Eeeee, high-pitched electric screaming flooded her headspace, eeeee, her head swam and pulsed. The jerking motions of her head frivolously searching for the illusory flashbang was only damaging to her weakened state and sending her swirling vision into a nauseating torrent of colors and light.

Mary knew she was a corpse walking. There was no way she could keep moving, yet she did. Tripping, stumbling, and blundering her way through the unrecognizable streets and buildings of what she assumed was London. The warmth of the smashed bits of Crucible fueling her away from what was a ticking time bomb.

But she wasn't moving fast enough, and she was too weak, too fragile to continue. A clumsy boot caught the upturned slab of road, and down she went. Crying out as her knees absorbed the blow, her elbows proving to be poor breaks as her form collapsed against the warm concrete. This wasn't right. She wasn't meant to die pathetically watching the blood pool and congeal around from her mouth like a drooling child. She wasn't supposed to be alone. Left without her squad, her friends, Kaidan...her home. She, if anywhere, was meant to die atop the burning Crucible... Dying like a hero, not out like a person forgotten...left behind.

What she would give not to be alone, to have someone's hand to grasp as she slipped away into the beyond.

Where the fuck was Alenko?

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

The glow of the blue light was comforting, illuminating but not to the point of brightness. She had succeeded in swallowing the first wave of panic that hit her nervous system, using the time to instead survey the room. It was empty, but there were visible signs of another living in the room- a cot lazily angled at the corner nearest her, the space sectioned off by a small table. Enough room to work with, but intended to give her a little bit of distance without cornering her.

Her armour rested in the opposite corner of the room, cleaned to whatever degree it was worthwhile. The set was junk- most of it bubbled and charred in whatever miracle brought her back to Earth. It was good enough to last another fight or two if it had to. Nothing remained of the color or scores from battles that had marred the pieces into something she recognized. Now, the weapon left on the table was blessedly pristine. Well, besides the old wear and tear left from months of battle. But her faithful Paladin had yet to let her down. The dog tags left at the bedside spiked shame, an emotion Mary was not ready to process.

Her head was tender, but that was the only physical complaint on her list. Outstretching her arm to inspect that area for more injuries and to test her field of vision. It seemed in order, even clearer than she was expecting. To test her theory, her hands explored the planes of her exposed scalp. Not even the most delicate fuzz had resurfaced. Mary bit back a scream willing her apathy to wash over her in a numbing blanket. It was only hair- it would grow back.

"I do apologize for shaving you," The voice interrupted her from the soliloquies that must have lasted much longer than the Commander had realized, "it was terribly singed."

"I had meant to change it for years anyway," the Commander dismissed.

The older woman ignored her remark, taking a seat near her feet, "you're THE Commander Shepard, aren't you?"

"That is a safe assumption," pulling herself to sit upright with her words.

"It's hard to tell without your red hair and that eye can-." the woman stopped, her demeanor turning from happiness to grief quickly, "honestly, it was the dog tags."

Years of well-intended crap through the military had spurred the change in hair color. Rather than being the dumb blonde, she could be the feisty redhead, which she had liked much better. People took her more seriously with red hair, and once she had reached Spectre status, the look had become her signature. None of her crew, even Kaidan, knew the original color of her hair. It was never a huge secret, just something that was now a part of her. Saving the world didn't allow all those little things to come to light. Or time to consider a change in appearance. Even Cereberus had found reason to keep up the ruse.

"I have to ask a favor," the woman's voice wavered, "I used most of my medigel. You're a hero-"

"When you put it like that, how could I say no?" Shepard gently teased.

Saddened beyond belief when the soft clearing of Kaidan's throat did not accompany her uncouth answer. But Mary had caught the slip of a tear from the woman; her eyes took in a deeper study of the room. A teddy bear lying in the middle of the room seemed less and less out of place. The woman's motivations became obvious.

"Well, let me start from the beginning." Or course she would. "After the Reapers attacked Earth, things have not been easy. I was the supply manager for a local hospital, so I knew where all of the medical equipment was. It kept me safe, but at a cost. When I found you, I was meant to deliver medigel to a gang of-" The woman searched for a suitable word.

"Raiders? Thugs? Ruffians?" It wasn't hard to guess.

"Yes, but I saw you. And, and I had to help you. Especially when I saw your tags, you," her voice stuttered into a soft coo, "saved everyone. I couldn't let you..."

"I don't see why you need my help," she stated, peppered with a cross tone the anger an unfamiliar bitter taste in her mouth; it didn't belong here.

"They took my son because I couldn't deliver, and now...now," the woman finished with a flurry of tears.

"How long ago?"

"Two days," the woman sobbed.

"Fuck," Shepard hissed, ambling from her cot, "we have to leave now."

Eyeing her armour then the woman and another pistol shoved haphazardly under the covers of the larger cot. Civilians did not belong in a firefight, but against forces she was unsure of, she had to take any help. Testing the fabric bunched around her arm with a sigh, she looked at the woman.

"Get in my armour, and grab that gun."

The woman balked, looking up to her in the empty and hopeless way. Without another word, Shepard placed the bear within the Mother's arms.

"I'll get you both out."

The march to the Raider hideout was a short one. Easy. Shepard was glad to find that her breathing and movements were unhindered without any unusual stings of pain. The woman following her had also proved adept at following instructions; luckily for them both, the months of lean allowed her to fit into her armour comfortably. A few inquiries later, she found the woman to be the same age as her, and the child was barely eight years old. She lost her husband in the chaos of the Reaper attacks, for all that mattered to the mission presented, but it stopped the woman from dramatics. Shaky emotions did not lead to straight shots.

But even talk of the lady's child soon fell to the side as the hideout loomed closer. Shepard could not shake the feeling of dread that hounded her. This was risky, and her health questions pushed at her, doubts consuming her usually clear battle state. But retreating was not an option, and it was not in her nature to abandon the person who had saved her, even if it was a suicide mission.

Four lookouts taken down silently later had not managed to ease her nerves. The options were down to one of two doors; testing either for locks was pointless; they would be caught at that point. So it would have to be hard and fast. Unfortunately, that was difficult when she was utterly blind to the layout of the room. Where was her son in the room? How many? What kind of fortifications? All crucial questions without answers. With no reliable source to watch her back.

"Look, we have to storm the door. Stay behind me at all times; I can use barriers to shield myself," but now came an essential part; Shepard made sure to look her square in the eyes, "I'm already going in blind; I cannot watch you. So stay on my six. No. Matter. What."

The woman nodded. Mary pat her shoulder, putting on the brightest smile she could manage, "you have my armour, a trusty sidearm- you can do this. Just stay calm."

She slipped the dog tags around the woman's neck.

Shepard moved toward the closest door, carefully placing each step so that a stray piece of rubble or siding would not alert the enemy to their presence. Sidestep, sidestep, sidestep, and the familiar tingling of the energy field pooling around her. The droplet of red absorbing into the fabric covering her chest went unnoticed. Three fingers in the air for five seconds, each finger went down with the space of one second between them.

Luckily, the door was unlocked.

One bullet took down the man watching the door. As that man fell, Shepard blasted into the building, taking a quick tactical appraisal of the building. It was almost pathetic; they were stationed in one large and open room. The child was in the far corner of the chamber, silent and looking glassy-eyed. The other men clustered around the table at the opposite end of the room; well were huddled, they all scattered for their weapon. Shepard's next move would make it difficult for the woman beside her to keep up, but she had no choice in the matter. She had to strike while they were still grouped.

Tendrils of energy snaked at lightning speed through her body, pulling the combined biotic energy into the mass of her chest. Their table was close enough not to merit a full charge at the men who were now her targets. Running would get her there quickly enough. Additionally, her barriers were still full. If she could manage to decimate the men all at once, this would be over without the loss of more thermal clips. She wouldn't need to worry about keeping up a barrier either. It was simple.

Release coiled from her core outwards. It was sweet as any orgasm. Tingling and electrifying in one move, though the heat was quite different. It burned through the Raiders, engulfing each before they could manage to scream. The table was gone, submerged in the same Nova of energy. Shepard slipped to the floor, sated, drained, and head pounding as blood dribbled from her nose.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

"Who's that, mum?"

"Don't be rude," she admonished with another kiss to his forehead, "it's Commander Shepard."

"She's staring at me."

The Commander was the rude figure in the room, and her eyes stopped on the child. Her body seized in fear. The blue eyes and sandy brown hair the visage that had haunted her sleep. Mary's vision turned red, the beacon's first assaulting visions filling her mental space. Her foot retreated, backing herself into the wall, her head suddenly slurring back into a splash of colors.

The silent room then crashed into oblivion. Neither of the entrances barricaded, and the front door remained unlocked. Shepard had enough time to roll out from being on her side -had she laid down?- before the ten more men filed into the room. Each carrying an assault rifle that was primed and loaded. Groggily she moved to her feet, needing the wall as support.

"It's the bitch with the supplies!" shouted the first man to survey the room, "and some friend she dragged along."

He didn't seem to mind the smoldering piles left behind from the corpses of his men. But the next man, taller and burlier than the rest, frowned deeply. His steps were more confident, more decisive.

"'The fuck happened?" The question directed toward the woman who placed herself in front of her son. The struggling Shepard dressed in civilian clothes wasn't on his radar.

The female quaked, unable to speak.

The large man grew tired of her silence. The smoldering bullet hole through her skull glowed as her body fell limp, the body of her son fell in line behind it. Now, Shepard was on his radar.

The female scrapped at the wall, blue energy congealing beneath her fingertips as they dug into the wall. Tears forming in her sky blue eyes. No words, just horror. Mouth clamped shut to suppress any reaction, anything to give her away.

Clip, clip, clip. The man stood before her, studying the shrinking female before him with disdain.

"What do you boys think?" his hand tightened around her neck as he lifted the Commander with ease "think this bleeding freak was responsible?" The still-hot barrel seared into the side of her skull

He would never get an answer; the person he held aloft glowed the last blue he would ever behold. Carrying his folded body with her as she trucked for the gaggle of men that stood across the room. Barriers refilled, and the devastating Nova swallowed each of the bastards into the azure wave of energy. If only it could swallow her too, but it didn't...Fate left her kneeling on the floor, alone again.

But now, she could scream. Alone, she could cry without shame. Blue tendrils wavered from her body. Illuminating the darkening room around her. Each shout fanning the blue flames with renewed vigor. Scorching the remaining biological and flammable material left in the room the scent of burning flesh drowning the room.

Where was the Normandy? Why was she still here? Shepard didn't belong here; Shepard was nothing without her crew. Nothing, pointless, useless. She couldn't even protect these civilians against these simple thugs. That wasn't who Shepard was; she didn't lose. Shepard didn't feel weak or have her ears explode on even the slightest provocation of her biotic powers. She sure as hell did not shudder as the thumping of gunfire surrounded her location.

What was the point of fighting? What could she defend? She couldn't save two civilians, couldn't save an entire galaxy. Shepard had failed. Was a failure.

In yet another cloud of judgment, the door whirred open. Engulfing the entire room in bright daylight blinding Mary from counting the targets coming through the door. It was a rookie mistake, and on top of expending all her energy on a naive temper tantrum, left her with limited options to defend herself.

But why should she?

She was exhausted.

Spent.

Empty.

Alone.

With gumption foreign or encouraged by lack of coherence from bloodloss, Shepard bull-rushed headfirst at the door and the person blocking her exit. The first shot fired over the leader's shoulder, the second absorbed by shielding, and the third went wide as the weapon flew from her grip. The Paladin clattered to a location somewhere behind her. The Commander fell to her knees quickly after it.

"If you had any balls, you'd shoot me now," it was a plea, not a challenge.

The second gentlest set of brown eyes caught her before she wrenched her attention away.

"Get up, Soldier," the graveled voice ordered gently.

Shepard struggled to her feet, completing the order. But the strain of following such a command came at a price. Staggering drunkenly, she collapsed into the hard encasing of his blue and white striped armour.

#mass effect fanfiction #femshep x kaidan #kaidan alenko #commander shepard #mass effect #mass effect spoilers #mary shepard #take me home

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Riding On

Ch 16- A Whole Fucking Hand Of Aces Part 1

Summary: It’s the run up to Christmas now for our favourite family, but it isn’t all happiness and smiles as Greg brings Fliss and Frank some worrying news about their adoption application. When Fliss enrols Bonnie’s help and the two women turn detective they uncover something that leaves Fliss both stunned and shocked. But, after a little contemplation, her and Frank realise that maybe, just maybe, they can work this to their advantage after all.

Warnings: Some VERY Bad Language words (Frank has a potty mouth…) Descriptions of panic attack-please avoid if this triggers.

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

A/N: Some nitty, gritty action and angst over this chapter so I hope you’re ready… buckle up! Big thanks to @icanfeelastormbrewing for reading this (sorry Frank had to put a shirt on) and @southerngracela for helping me with a crucial bit here that I have very limited experience on.

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 On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 15

When you’re weak, I’ll be strong. When you let go, I’ll hold on. When you need to cry, I swear that I’ll be there to dry your eyes. When you feel lost and scared to death, like you can’t take one more step, just take my hand, together we can do it. I’m gonna love you through it.

December 2019

Fliss set the mug down on the coffee table in front of where Greg sat in the arm chair. Their friend had called earlier that day to say he had finally had a response from an attorney representing Bradley Polland, Mary’s biological father regarding the Adoption.

And it hadn’t been good news. Frank’s worse fear had been realised, the man was contesting. Frank hadn’t received the news particularly well, storming out of work and straight home, blazing in a fit of anger that was very unlike him, and Fliss had taken charge and asked Greg to come over later that night once Mary was in bed so they could discuss it in a calm and hopefully logical manner. As always, he was happy to oblige.

Greg flashed Fliss a smile and thanked her before she sat next to Frank on the sofa, her hand reaching for his. Their fingers laced together and she gave a little squeeze and he looked at her, giving her a tight smile.

“Don’t get too despondent yet.” Greg sighed, “I know it’s shitty but like I said on the phone Frank, we have a damned good chance on winning this in court.”

“I just don’t fucking understand Greg.” Frank shook his head “Why? Why is he contesting? He doesn’t give a shit about her, we know that. He’s never even laid eyes on her in person. Fucking ass hole.” His tone we venomous, his face creased in anger and Fliss gently squeezed his fingers again. He took a deep breath and shook his head “Sorry, I’m just…” “Buddy, I can’t begin to imagine how you feel.” Greg sighed, “And I’m sorry I can’t answer your question because I don’t know what his reasoning is.” The man shrugged as he took a sip of his tea. “Maybe the fact that the adoption would completely remove any rights he has to her has sparked some deep buried paternal instinct...” “Bull shit.” Frank scoffed, leaning back in his chair. Greg looked at Fliss who took a deep breath.

“So, what happens now?” she asked, trying to keep calm. One of them had to have a level head after all.

“Well, there’ll be a little to-ing and fro-ing before court but my first action, which I did as soon as that letter landed this morning, was to get onto Child Welfare. They’ll prep a report on Mary, how settled she is, happy, basically in support of the adoption.” Greg licked his lips “But I want you both to know, that there is absolutely no way that Mary is gonna get taken away from you.” He looked at Frank straight in the eyes as Frank looked back. “Even if Polland petitions for custody, which he won’t…” he held his hand up, cutting Frank off before he could start again “No Court in their right mind is gonna rip her out of her home here and put her with him, not now. You have Legal Guardian Status Frank, that’s not gonna change. At most he will get visitation.”

“What if Mary doesn’t want to see him?” Fliss asked as Frank looked away, his eyes roving over the garden are which was light up by the various solar lights speckled around the decking and lawn, the pool lights turning the whole area to the left of the garden a vivid shade of aqua, desperately trying to keep his cool.

“Then the CWD will reflect that in their report.” Greg nodded. “But this is absolute worst case scenario. You both need to understand that there is a really, really high chance that the court will overrule his objection and allow the Adoption to go through anyway. She’s been with you all her life Frank, whilst he may have a biological link to her, he has nothing else. And the court won’t look favourably on his actions. We saw that in the case versus your mother.” “So this might actually not mean a thing?” Fliss looked at Greg.

“Exactly.” Greg smiled “You’re in a very good position. This…it’s just a little bump in the road.”

“Then why does it feel like a huge fucking road block?” Frank looked at Greg and his best friend sighed.

“Because you’re panicking.” Greg said simply “You’re over thinking it, like you always do. Trust me Frank, this is going to change nothing…” “How can you say that?” Frank looked at him. “Of course it’s gonna change something, that little girl up there thinks we’re gonna be adopting her and now I’m gonna haff to tell her that that might naht be the case…”

His accent grew thicker, the way it always did when he was emotional and Fliss squeezed his hand once more and turned to face him.

“Frank, nothing changes from our home front, that’s what Greg means.” She said, and Greg nodded in agreement. “And as for telling her, then we do what we always do. We be honest, we explain it simply and we reassure her if she gets anxious. That’s all we can do for now. And then, whatever happens we face it together as a family.” Frank sighed and looked down at his feet before he looked at Greg, shaking his head “Sorry man, I didn’t mean to snap.” “Don’t sweat it.” Greg shook his head “But I mean what I say pal, this isn’t like last time when, I’ll be honest, I didn’t think we had a cat in hells chance of keeping her from your mother, despite how much I was behind you, and you know that. This time, well, not only have your entire circumstances changed now in that she has a perfect home, a family, stability…” he took a deep breath, “And you are her legal guardian. No court will strip that from you unless there’s exceptional circumstances. And these are not. The only card Polland has to play is that he still has his Parental Rights, he’s got nothing else. He has never met her, never talked to her, never paid a dime towards her. In contrast, you on the other hand have a whole fucking hand of Aces to play back. There’s no way she’s going anywhere, adoption or not, which is the main thing here. That she stays with you. You two are her parents in everything but name and the court and CWD will see that.”

There was nothing much more that Greg could tell them at that point, other than to walk them through the next steps in a little more detail. He talked them through how the CWD would be in contact and that they’d want to speak to Mary alone, then they’d want to speak to both of them too, and that was as far as he was prepared to go, refusing to even think about anything beyond that. Which in itself was frustrating the hell out of Frank, but Fliss understood exactly why Greg was being so reserved. It was information overload, and Frank being the very analytical and cerebral person he was would end up even more frustrated as Greg would have no answer to the barrage of questions he was likely to have.

It was only when Alex made the familiar noises of hunger that the 3 of them called time on their discussion and Fliss stood up and headed to the bassinet to the side of the sofa.

"He's getting so big." Greg beamed and Alex, momentarily forgetting his hunger, locked his eyes onto his godfather's and gave him a huge smile. "Hey fella!" Greg ran a finger down his cheek and Alex wiggled his arms in response. "He looks like you pal." Greg looked at Frank as he grinned. "Poor little bugger."

“Fuck you.” Frank snorted, and Fliss pouted dramatically.

"I happen to think is daddy is very handsome." She looked at Frank whose lips curled into a smile at one side for what felt like the first time that day before he turned to Greg.

"I'll see you out."

Greg looked at him and then nodded, and with a final goodbye to Fliss, he left the family room with Frank behind him

“Tell me honestly Greg, and no bullshit…” Frank looked ad his friend as they strode towards Greg’s silver benz which was parked behind Fliss’ Cherokee “Am I gonna lose her?”

“Have you just listened to a damned word I said Frank?” Greg looked at him. “Read my lips. Not a chance. Honestly Frank, you have the upper hand here. This is nothing like last time.”

Frank nodded and gave his friend a tight smile as he climbed into his car, turning and heading back inside giving a whistle for Thor to follow him, the dog having wandered outside at the same time he had. But despite his friend’s assurances, he just couldn’t shake the worry from the back of his mind that this entire thing was going to rip their family apart.

He paused in the doorway and watched Fliss who was now feeding Alex his bottle, her eyes locked on that of their son and he felt a little lump in his throat. He swallowed and spoke, his voice sounding strangely far away to him.

“Want me to do that?” he asked. Fliss looked at him, immediately recognising his offer for what it actually was, a request. He wanted to do it. And she knew why. It was a way to keep himself grounded, away from the spiralling thoughts in his mind.

“Sure.” She nodded as Frank sat down. She handed Alex over and then kissed Frank’s cheek. “Try not to worry sweetheart, I know it’s a shitty set back but it’ll work out.”

“You’re optimistic.” Frank looked down at Alex as he took his milk before he glanced up at Fliss “I wish I was.”

“You heard Greg.” She gently lay her hand on his neck, her fingers softly stroking at his skin of the nape “This isn’t like last time.”

“I know.” He nodded, before he fixed a smile on his face “Why don’t you go for that bath you were talking about before?”

“You gonna be ok?”

He nodded “Yeah, I’ll be up once he’s finished.”

“Ok.” Fliss nodded, kissing him again before she stood up and left Frank alone with his son.

**** Try as he might Frank couldn’t sleep that night, his mind was whirring at 100 miles an hour, and in the end he gave up before his tossing and turning disturbed either Fliss or Alex. He climbed out of bed, pulled on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt before he peered down at Alex who was asleep in his crib. As he headed to the door he reached down and gave Thor’s ears a scratch as the dog looked up from his spot in his basket before he padded silently into the hallway and softly pushed Mary’s bedroom door open. She too was fast asleep, Fred curled up next to her head on the pillow. She looked so peaceful, so content. And Frank knew that’s because she was. She was safe, she was loved, she was wanted- boy was she wanted- and the thought that her life, that their lives might be upturned by that shit head Polland made Frank’s stomach churn.

He knew he was over thinking things. He had always been the same. He retreated into his mind, and no matter how many times Fliss or Greg had told him not to worry that night he just couldn’t help it. He’d almost lost her once, and the thought that he might actually lose her for good this time was unbearable. His mouth suddenly became dry and he needed a drink, so closing the door behind him softly he headed down the stairs and pulled open the fridge, reaching for a bottle of water.

He drained the bottle in one but that did nothing to help the hot and clammy feeling that was now washing over him, causing a light beading of sweat to dust his brow. He wiped it away with the back of his hand and as he did so his belly dropped out from him and a sick feeling spread across his body, almost like he was going to puke. He gripped the edge of the counter, hovering over the sink, eyes closed as the room began to spin and his chest suddenly began to hurt. He found himself unable to catch his breath as his throat tightened and he scrunched his eyes shut as they were burning from the unshed, salty tears. Then, he could hold the feeling of desperation and panic no more and he turned, sliding to the floor in a dishevelled heap, his back banging painfully against the lower kitchen cabinets as he struggled to ground himself. When his chest finally released enough for him to take a huge, shaky, painful breath it was all too much and his anxiety poured out in a flood of uncontrollable tears, the deep emotions stirring with no other outlet but his silent crying.

How long he was there he had no idea, locked in his own mind and worries, but then a voice broke through the cloud in his mind and a familiar presence filled his senses.

“Frankie…” Fliss gently placed her hand on Frank’s shoulder as she knelt down next to him. “Oh Baby…”

He mumbled something incoherent, choking on his sobs, his face buried between his arms as they hugged his knees to his chest, and she moved to wrap her arms around him. His own arms moved and he wrapped them around her back, clinging to her with a desperation she’d never seen or felt from him before as he pressed his face into the crook of her shoulder.

“Shhhh, I got you…” she whispered to him, kissing his head. “I got you.”

The two of them sat on the kitchen floor, Fliss soothing him, pressing the odd kiss to his head, running her hand up his spine over his t-shirt with one hand, the fingers of the other fingers brushing the back of his neck, a movement she knew he found comforting. Knowing from her own experiences, there was nothing else to be done other than stay with him and let him cry it out she did just that. Eventually, she felt his broad shoulders begin to relax a little as his sobs turned into smaller cries, which then morphed into small hiccups, until eventually they subsided completely and there was no sound in the room bar his deep, ragged breathing. After a moment or so of relative quiet, he pulled away and Fliss turned her head towards him, taking in his appearance and it broke her heart. His face was red and blotchy, those blue eyes she could drown in were bloodshot and looked at her sadly from beneath puffy eyelids. He moved his arm to wipe at his nose and then took a deep, stuttering breath.

“You with me?” Fliss asked gently and he nodded, taking another shaky breath.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you.” He spoke, his throat felt raw and his voice was gruff and croaky, not sounding like his own. Fliss shook her head.

“Don’t you dare apologise Frank.” She said gently “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“We had such a wonderful Thanksgiving a few weeks ago, and we should be looking forward to Alex’s first Christmas and now…” “Hey, hey…” Fliss cut him off, her hands taking his face gently, pads of her fingers threading into his beard. “Thanksgiving was wonderful, because we were all together. Christmas is gonna be wonderful because we will still all be together.”

“I can’t lose her Liss, I can’t lose any of you, I just…” “And you’re not gonna.” She said, her voice calm and quiet. “Greg told you this before. The worst that can happen is Polland is gonna get visitations.” “But what if she wants to live with him? What if she-“ “Oh Frank.” Fliss sighed “That’s not even a remote possibility. Mary worships the ground you walk on. She adores Alex. She loves her home, her life…if anything, I think she’s going to refuse to even see him. You saw how heartbroken she was that day we had to talk her out of the bathroom during the court-case. She won’t have forgotten that.”

Frank raised his eyes to Fliss’ and she smiled at him softly, her hands still on his face “Baby, she might only be 9 but she’s not stupid. She knows you gave everything you had to make sure she’s had a good life. You kept her safe, loved. I’ll say it over and over till I’m blue in the face Frank, you ARE her father. In everything but biology. And Bill and I are proof here that biology doesn’t mean a fucking thing.”

“She adores you too you know.” Frank said, and Fliss smiled softly pressing her forehead to his

“Good because I adore her right back. And her big, soft, lump of an uncle-slash-father who happens to be a wonderful man with a huge heart, who knows he isn’t perfect but doesn’t try to be.” Her hands slid down from his face, one resting on his shoulder, the other back to stroking the nape of his neck. Frank closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as her touch washed over him. “A man who strives every day to be the best version of himself, but doesn’t really need to because he’s already the best daddy and partner in the world.”

“Liss I’m not-“ “You’re not perfect, yes I know.” She smiled “But that makes you perfect to me.”

Frank took a deep breath and closed his eyes as her fingers continued to gently stroke at his neck, all the time her movements sending gently sparks of warmth down his back. His breathing had settled down now, his tears stopped. He felt calmer.

“I love you.” He said softly and Fliss smiled, pulling back a little

“I know.” She looked at him “I love you too.”

His hand reached up for the one that was resting on his shoulder and his fingers tangled with hers, and he squeezed gently, relishing the feel of her engagement ring as it pressed against his middle and ring finger. And then, almost by magic, a soft gurgle came from the baby monitor on the side in the kitchen.

“See, Bean loves his daddy too.” Fliss smiled and Frank gave a little chuckle. “Wanna come back to bed?”

He nodded.

Fliss stood up and offered Frank her hand, tugging him up beside her. Without a word she led him down the hall and up the stairs. Frank headed straight to Alex who was on his back, his eyes flickering as he slept, his head turned gently to the right, little hand curling by his cheek. Frank tenderly ran a finger over his soft skin and the little boy reacted to the touch, his limbs stretching a little before he settled back down, his breathing even, his eyes closing.

“I still don’t know how we made something so special.” Fliss whispered, her arms curling round Frank’s waist from behind.

“He’s part you.” Frank replied softly, and Fliss gave a chuckle.

“Yeah, well, like I said, his daddy’s pretty awesome too.” Frank turned round to face her and dropped a gentle kiss to her mouth, his nose sliding against hers before he gave a little yawn. “Sorry…” he said as Fliss chuckled.

“Come on Sailor, let’s try and get some sleep before he wakes us up.”

Frank moved and slid into the covers, settling down as Fliss led besides him. He turned onto his side to look at her and she brushed her hand through his untidy, fluffy hair and then opened her arms. With the air of a small child he sank into them, his head resting against her chest, arms moving so that they wrapped around her, like a koala bear. Her hand once more resumed its gentle stroking on his neck and it wasn’t long before Fliss felt his tense shoulders relax, his breathing grew even and she glanced down to see those long eyelashes resting against his freckled cheeks as he slept. She pressed a kiss to his head and closed her eyes and finally let her own emotion crash over her as she let out a few silent tears of her own.

***** “I just don’t get it Bonnie.” Fliss sighed gently, as Bonnie took the coffee she was offering, the two women heading over to the breakfast bar. “Why now? Why after so fucking long is he suddenly interested?”

“I wish I could answer that for you.” Bonnie was sympathetic, as Fliss’ eyes flicked over to Mary who was led on the play-mat by the TV with Alex. He was led on his back and Mary was playing peek-a-boo with him, hiding her face behind his large stuffed Elephant pillow which had been a present from Steve and Sian when they’d taken the kids to the zoo. Alex showing his appreciation by smiling at her and giggling, his arms and leg waving as he shrieked with happiness.

“I just can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to it.” Fliss bit her lip and Bonnie looked at her.

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” Fliss shifted a little, dropping her voice even more. “When Polland turned up in the Custody case, Frank was always adamant that Evelyn had paid him, even though he denied it and she denied it and we had no evidence. Frank’s still to this day 100% convinced that’s why he came forward. He wasn’t interested in Mary…”

“Has he asked Evelyn since?”

“No.” Fliss shook her head. “They’re in a good place. It’s not perfect but its ok, and they have this unspoken agreement now that they don’t talk about it. They moved on so…”

“Maybe you should ask her.” Bonnie said.

Fliss shrugged “I don’t know if I want to drag it all back up.”

“Yeah, but if you think someone is putting him up to this…”

“I don’t, well, I do, maybe…” Fliss hesitated as she tried to put what she was thinking into words “I don’t know, what I think to be honest, other than there must be something else in it for Pollland. Sorry, I’m not making much sense.” “No, I get it.” Bonnie assured him. The two women sat in silence before Bonnie clicked her fingers as she looked at Fliss “Facebook. Have you checked him out?”

“Already tried, he’s blocked me and Frank…same on Instagram. Not that I’m sure it would help but…”

“Well he won’t have blocked me…” Bonnie shrugged “Might be a dead end but you never know. Worth a good old social media stalk, don’t you think?”

Fliss looked at Mary, then to Bonnie again before she nodded “Ok…do it.”

Bonnie pulled her phone out and scrolled down, tapping open the App. “What’s his name?”

“Polland.” Fliss said gently “Brad…”

Bonnie tapped at the screen and then turned it to Fliss, “That him?”

Fliss nodded. “Yeah…”

“Damned it his profile is locked down…” Bonnie said, her eyes roving over the screen. “Let me try his insta…” She continued to tap at her phone and grinned “Well he hasn’t locked this down…”she started to scroll down the screen and then stopped, frowning a little “Hang on…why do I recognise this woman?”

“Let me see?”

She pushed the phone over the counter and Fliss stared at it for a moment. It was a picture of Polland in a suit, with a team of people she assumed must be work colleagues. “Which one?”

“The one 2 down from him to his right.”

Fliss looked closer and then she felt her heart skip a beat. “I don’t fucking believe it…”

“What?”

“That’s Anna.” She said gently “Richard’s wife.” “Richard as in…” Bonnie trailed off as Fliss swallowed and looked at her.

“My ex brother in law. We saw them in Miami…” The realisation crashed over Fliss in a huge wave as she stared at the photo, the ghosts once again of her past back to haunt her only this time in a way she could never have imagined. This was the link, the Stazikers. She’d bet her life on it.

“Why now?” Bonnie asked gently “I mean this photo is from a few years back, so…” “I wasn’t with Frank when the case went down, not fully anyway.” Fliss said, biting her lip “None of them would have made the connection back then, they didn’t even know where I was. This will be their way of punishing me. John died whilst in prison for an attack on me, Richard did a few months inside too for his part. They’ve always blamed me, even when John pleaded guilty.” She took a deep breath and looked at Bonnie “Ok, can you go through and screen shot ANYTHING you see that links him to the Stazikers, then send it to me.” “What you gonna do?” Bonnie asked “Tell Frank?”

“Not yet.” Fliss said, “I need to speak to Evelyn first.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m gonna ask her once and for all if she paid Polland.” Fliss looked at Bonnie, her eyes blazing “Because if she did, it makes it all the more likely he’s taking a back hander again.” *****

“Fliss?” Evelyn’s voice hit Fliss’ ears as she sat in the study, sitting at the desk.

“HI Evelyn.” Fliss said, taking a deep breath “Have you got a minute?”

“Yes, of course…what’s the matter?”

“I need to ask you something. And I want an honest answer. Bradley Polland…” “What about him?” Evelyn’s voice took a gruff turn.

“Did you pay him?”

“What?”

“When he appeared at Mary’s case. Did you pay him?”

“Why are you asking me this?”

“Because yesterday we had notification he’s actively contesting the Adoption application.” Fliss said, keeping her voice calm “And I’m trying to understand why. I have a theory but…”

“It’s nothing to do with me if that’s what you think…” “No, I don’t.” Fliss appeased as Evelyn’s voice was harsh. “I’m just trying to gather the facts before I go back to Greg. But I need to know honestly Evelyn, did you pay him.”

She sighed “Not exactly, no.” “Well what exactly did you do?”

“Polland works for an accountancy company.” Evelyn hesitated slightly before she continued “He’s in charge of their New Business department. I had a word with my contacts at the University and it ended up in a very lucrative deal for his firm, meaning he got a promotion. I’m not proud of it…but…”

Fliss took a deep breath. There was some satisfaction that her suspicion had been correct but also an underlying sense of frustration at how Evelyn could have ever been so damned sneaky. But, she had to remind herself that this was all in the past now. They had all moved on, and made some pretty monumental steps in that department. But this was now threatening to blow all of this out of the water.

“Thank you for being honest with me.” She replied after a second or two.

“Fliss, you have to understand, I was desperate.” Evelyn said gently. “I’d do anything to take it all back.”

“Look, I’m not interested in dragging this up for an argument.” Fliss shook her head as she spoke “As we all keep saying, what’s done is done. I just needed to know if I was right.” “You think someone is paying him to do this?”

“Yes.” Fliss said bluntly “And I have a good idea who.”

“Are you going to tell me?”

“Not yet.” Fliss licked her lips. “I need to talk to Frank first.”

“Ok, well if there’s anything I can do please let me know.”

“Of course, I’ll let you know.

After bidding her mother-in-law goodbye, Fliss hung up and dropped the phone onto the desk before she let out a little groan and stood up, heading back into the living room. Mary looked up at her where she was sat on the sofa, and Fliss smiled as she saw Alex was curled up on-top of his comforter on the play-mat, cuddling to his beloved elephant.

“He fell asleep” Mary said, “I was watching him but you said not to try and lift him without you here so…” “Mary, he’s fine babe.” Fliss smiled, “Honestly, you did good. Top babysitter.” She leaned over and gave the girl a hi-five before she took a quick photo and sent it to Frank. Placing her phone on the coffee table she dropped down besides Mary. “What you looking at?” Fliss nodded at the laptop.

“I’m chatting to Rosie.” Mary said, turning the Macbook so Fliss could she see had the instant messenger service from the school network open “We were talking about Christmas and stuff. She asked if I can go and sleep over tomorrow night seeing as it’s the holidays.”

“You wanna?”

“Yeah.” “Then fine by me.” Fliss said, giving a little yawn “I can’t see Frank having a problem with it. I’m teaching in the afternoon so I can drop you either before or after.”

“Ok, I’ll tell her you said yes.” Mary smiled, “See what time she says I can go over. I can ride Monty in the morning again like I did today.”

“Sounds like plan, kiddo.” Fliss nodded “We can do the trail if you want when I’ve done the classes for the morning.”

“Awesome!” Mary grinned.

“Oh, and I know I said I was gonna make chicken parm for dinner but I seriously cannot be bothered. I’m thinking I might throw some frozen pizzas in and do some dirty fries instead.”

Mary grinned “I love dirty fries.” “So does Frank.” Fliss smiled

“He needs cheering up.” Mary nodded “He looked sad this morning.”

“He just has some stuff going on at work.” Fliss said, batting the question away “He’ll be fine.”

At that point her phone went off, it was a message back from the man in question responding to her photo of Alex.

Lucky little bastard! I’d kill for a nap right now, I’m exhausted. Finishing early so should be home in an hour or so. Love you all xxx

“See.” She showed it to Mary “Just tired.”

“Can we bake some brownies?” Mary asked, her face hopeful “They always cheer him up.”

“Sure.” Fliss smiled, standing up, completely not bothering to point out to Mary that was more hassle than the chicken parm, it was such a thoughtful thing to want to do that Fliss instantly felt her heart melt as she agreed. “Go get the bowls and stuff ready, I’ll put Bean in the crib.” To be fair it only took half an hour to mix the batter and get it in the oven. They then turned their attention to the fries and pizzas, shoving those in too before they returned back to the sofa, Fliss finding “Miracle on 34th Street” on one of the channels so they settled down to watch, the Christmas tree lights twinkling in the corner of the room. And that was how Frank found them when he came in from work about 20 minutes or so later. Both of them sat on the sofa, Mary snuggled into Fliss as they were giggling at the TV in the now dim-light of the room.

“Hey.” He smiled and Fliss looked up at him, taking the kiss he offered before he ruffled Mary’s head “Again?” he nodded to the TV and Mary glared at him.

“It happens to be one of my favourites.” “Don’t I know it.” He rolled his eyes. He then paused, the smell of baking hitting his nostrils, and looked around, before he glanced back at them, grinning “You made brownies?”

“Not just any brownies…” Mary grinned “Salted caramel ones.” Frank groaned “I love you both.”

Mary sniggered “Fliss said you would say that.”

Frank smiled “Imma take a shower ok? Be down in a second.”

“Actually, I need to talk to you.” Fliss said, looking at him significantly.

“Ok.” He frowned.

“You ok here Mary?” Fliss looked at her. “Keep an eye on Alex for me again?”

“What are you going to talk about?”

“Nonya.” Frank looked at her.

“Nonya?” Mary frowned.

“Yeah, Nonya-business.” He said, straightening up as she gave a groan.

“That’s so lame.” Mary sighed, rolling her eyes. Fliss and Frank headed upstairs into their bedroom, where Fliss took a deep breath. She didn’t even bother telling Frank to stay calm, because she knew it was futile. And, true to her prediction, when she explained what she’d found out he reacted exactly how she had predicted. Angry, upset, frustrated. He grit his teeth, swore and then started stomping around the room.

“I know, I know…” she soothed as he slammed a drawer shut, tossing a pair of joggers onto the bed. “But, this is good Frank.” “Good, how is any of this good Lissy?” he seethed “I…” “Because it gives us an angle.” She said gently “If we tell Greg about this…whilst we may not have any solid proof it provides him with a line of attack. Raises questions. And we have Evelyn too, I’m pretty sure she’ll go on record about what went down last time. It’s a total smear on his character.”

Frank took a deep breath, running his hand through his hair. “You know what, I can’t…I can’t process this now, I need to think.”

“Ok.” Fliss said, looking down at the carpet, swallowing a little as she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” “Sorry?” Frank frowned “What are you sorry for?”

“Because this is my fault isn’t it?” she stated, more than asked, and Frank was horrified to see the tears in her eyes. “It’s all down to John, again.” “Stop.” Frank said firmly, shaking his head as he strode round the side of the bed to where she was stood. “Lissy, this isn’t your fault baby. Not at all. I’m not mad at you, I promise.”

“Maybe, but if I wasn’t involved, this wouldn’t be happening and…” she took a deep breath and Frank shook his head once more, wiping her tears away. “He’s fucking dead Frank and still…” “Look.” Frank sighed, “You don’t control what that shit head family do now any more than you did back then, ok? I’m sorry for snapping I just…” “I know.” She nodded, her hands wrapping around his wrists as his calloused fingers caressed her cheek.

“But please don’t for one second think I blame you for any of this. This is down to him, and if the Stazikers are the only reason he’s doing this then he’s an even bigger shit head than we thought.”

“You know, Steeb says he can make him vanish.” Fliss shrugged “Concrete shoes, bottom of the ocean.”

Frank chuckled and his hands dropped to her hips “Don’t tempt me.”

“So what do you want to do about it?” Fliss asked. Frank bit his lip for a moment as he considered his play and then he looked back at her, determination on his face.

“Once I’ve showered I’ll call Evelyn and check she’s ok, as no doubt she’s pacing the floor at home now, panicking.”

“You not mad at her?”

“Mad? I’m fucking raging but what’s the point of going over it all?” he sighed, “I always knew deep down she’d done something and we worked so hard to put it behind us…”

“And the rest of it?”

“Well after I speak to Mother, I’ll get onto Greg, tell him what we know.” He spoke determinedly “If the fucking cunts want a dirty fight, then they can have one.”

**** Chapter 16 Part 2

#frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #gifted #gifted fan fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Riding On

Ch 16- A Whole Fucking Hand Of Aces

Part 1

Warnings: Some VERY Bad Language words (Frank has a potty mouth…) Descriptions of panic attack-please avoid if this triggers.

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

Chapter Song: I’m Gonna Love You Through It by Martina McBride (Ok, so this song makes me damned cry due to the sentiment behind it, and fits Frank and Fliss here so much…)

Series Masterlist // WIYPT Masterlist

December 2019

“Don’t get too despondent yet.” Greg sighed, “I know it’s shitty but like I said on the phone Frank, we have a damned good chance on winning this in court.”

“So, what happens now?” she asked, trying to keep calm. One of them had to have a level head after all.

“Exactly.” Greg smiled “You’re in a very good position. This…it’s just a little bump in the road.”

“Then why does it feel like a huge fucking road block?” Frank looked at Greg and his best friend sighed.

His accent grew thicker, the way it always did when he was emotional and Fliss squeezed his hand once more and turned to face him.

It was only when Alex made the familiar noises of hunger that the 3 of them called time on their discussion and Fliss stood up and headed to the bassinet to the side of the sofa.

“Fuck you.” Frank snorted, and Fliss pouted dramatically.

"I happen to think is daddy is very handsome." She looked at Frank whose lips curled into a smile at one side for what felt like the first time that day before he turned to Greg.

"I'll see you out."

Greg looked at him and then nodded, and with a final goodbye to Fliss, he left the family room with Frank behind him

“Tell me honestly Greg, and no bullshit…” Frank looked ad his friend as they strode towards Greg’s silver benz which was parked behind Fliss’ Cherokee “Am I gonna lose her?”

“Have you just listened to a damned word I said Frank?” Greg looked at him. “Read my lips. Not a chance. Honestly Frank, you have the upper hand here. This is nothing like last time.”

Frank nodded and gave his friend a tight smile.

“Thanks for coming over.” he nodded and Greg smiled.

“Any time, I got your back. You know that.” he promised as he climbed into his car. Frank watched him leave, tossing a hand at the tailgate to the car before he turned and headed back inside, giving a whistle for Thor to follow him, the dog having wandered outside at the same time he had. But despite his friend’s assurances, he just couldn’t shake the worry from the back of his mind that this entire thing was going to rip their family apart.

“Sure.” She nodded as Frank sat down. She handed Alex over and then kissed Frank’s cheek. “Try not to worry sweetheart, I know it’s a shitty set back but it’ll work out.”

“You’re optimistic.” Frank looked down at Alex as he took his milk before he glanced up at Fliss “I wish I was.”

“You heard Greg.” She gently lay her hand on his neck, her fingers softly stroking at his skin of the nape “This isn’t like last time.”

“I know.” He nodded, before he fixed a smile on his face “Why don’t you go for that bath you were talking about before?”

“You gonna be ok?”

He nodded “Yeah, I’ll be up once he’s finished.”

“Ok.” Fliss nodded, kissing him again before she stood up and left Frank alone with his son.

He the cool liquid in one but that did nothing to help the hot and clammy feeling that was now washing over him, causing a light beading of sweat to dust his brow. He wiped it away with the back of his hand and as he did so his belly dropped out from him and a sick feeling spread across his body, almost like he was going to puke. He gripped the edge of the counter, hovering over the sink, eyes closed as the room began to spin and his chest suddenly began to hurt. He found himself unable to catch his breath as his throat tightened and he scrunched his eyes shut as they were burning from the unshed, salty tears. Then, he could hold the feeling of desperation and panic no more and he turned, sliding to the floor in a dishevelled heap, his back banging painfully against the lower kitchen cabinets as he struggled to ground himself. When his chest finally released enough for him to take a huge, shaky, painful breath it was all too much and his anxiety poured out in a flood of uncontrollable tears, the deep emotions stirring with no other outlet but his silent crying.