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oldiesstationlover11607 · 1 day

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HIII BESTIEEE!!!

If you’re open to the idea of writing a Joseph!Reader x Josh enemies to lovers where reader has always loved hanging around the boys playing music and wants so hard to fit in with them but Josh is always pushing her away and doesn’t want her to join the band (because he knows he can’t have her cause she is Tyler’s sister 👀👀)

Tyty I can’t wait to see what you do with this !!!

Pushing me away - Josh Dun x Joseph!Reader

Warnings: Angst lol but it ends in fluff

Word Count: 3057 - long for you bestie

A/N: Hope you enjoy this! I low key love writing sibling fics for tøp! Can't wait for your next request :)

It all began when Tyler, Josh, and I hit the road for their summer tour. I had only known Josh for a few months, but Tyler managed to convince our mom to let me tag along, claiming it would be a “learning experience”—something about getting a firsthand look at the music industry. I wasn’t going to argue. Since their first garage practice, I’d been sneaking into every jam session, wanting to be part of the music, part of their world. But on tour, it quickly became clear that one thing stood in the way of that dream. One irritating, maddening, nearly six-foot-tall roadblock: Josh.

Tyler was obsessed with him. Josh this, Josh that—his best friend, his bandmate, practically his shadow. And at first, I was excited too. I'd always admired Josh’s talent from a distance, the way he made drumming look effortless, how he could light up a room with a laugh or a silly face. But up close, I quickly realized that something wasn’t right.

Every time I tried to hang out with them, Josh would find some subtle way to push me away. It started with little things, like asking me to grab something from the van while they set up. But then it escalated. “Oh, Y/N, you should check out the local sights!” or “Why don't you explore the city today? We’ll catch up later.” Every single time, like clockwork, I found myself alone, wandering streets I'd never been to, while Tyler and Josh bonded without me.

Today was no different.

“Y/N, can you grab some coffee? I heard there’s this amazing spot just down the street,” Josh asked, barely looking up as he spun a drumstick in his hand, cool and effortless. Tyler was sitting on the floor, adjusting some tracks on his laptop, completely oblivious. I had been curled up on a chair, humming along to Tyler’s chords, holding his ukulele while they ran through ideas for the night’s setlist.

I blinked, the weight of disappointment settling deep in my chest. “Uh… sure, I guess.”

The words tasted bitter. I had been so excited for this particular stop on the tour. I’d even highlighted it on my phone calendar, dreaming of watching them work together, getting a glimpse of what it felt like to be part of the music. But instead, I’d been reduced to the role of glorified coffee runner.

I set Tyler’s uke down, grabbed my wallet, and headed for the door, my footsteps heavy as I left the practice space. The sun was just barely beginning to heat up the sleepy city streets. It was early, too early for the ache of rejection that pulsed through me. But I didn’t want to make a scene. Not here. Not with Tyler watching.

The coffee shop was cute, at least. Small, with mismatched furniture scattered across the floor. The walls were painted in warm, inviting shades of cream and teal, with a bright pink neon sign in the shape of a coffee mug glowing behind the counter. I couldn’t help but smile at it. Neon signs were kind of my thing. Tyler and I had even turned it into a game—spotting them along the way to each city. I loved how they glowed against the dark, offering a bit of light when everything else felt dim.

I ordered the coffee and leaned against the aquamarine wall, waiting for the drinks to be ready when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I checked the screen: Mom.

“Hey, Ma,” I greeted, forcing a bit of cheer into my voice.

“Honey! How’s the tour? Are you having fun?” Her voice was filled with so much warmth, I almost felt guilty. I knew she was thrilled that Tyler and I were getting to spend this time together, and I didn’t want to crush that hope.

“It’s… good,” I lied, chewing on the inside of my cheek.

“Are you with the boys? Can I say hi to Tyler?”

My heart sank. “I’m, uh… grabbing coffee for them. They’re back at the venue,” I explained, trying to sound casual.

She hesitated. “Why aren’t you with them?”

I swallowed hard. “Josh—well, Josh’s been kind of… weird. Keeps finding ways to get me to leave them alone, I guess.” It sounded ridiculous now that I said it out loud.

Mom sighed softly, her voice gentle but firm. “Tyler mentioned something about that. He’s noticed, honey.”

Of course, he had. Tyler was always perceptive, probably more than I ever gave him credit for. “I just don’t get why Josh doesn’t like me. I’ve tried everything to fit in, but it’s like he’s always looking for ways to push me out,” I admitted, my frustration finally spilling over. “I just want to be part of what they’re doing. It’s like—like I don’t belong.”

Mom was quiet for a moment before she spoke. “Sweetheart, I’m sure it’s not about you. Sometimes… Boys are complicated. Maybe he’s just overwhelmed with the tour.”

I wanted to believe her, but I knew there was more to it. The way Josh would look at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. How his jaw would clench whenever I tried to be close to them. There was something else. Something he wasn’t saying.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I clutched the phone tighter. I didn’t know how to tell my mom what it really felt like—how every glance Josh gave me felt like a dagger, cutting through any hope I had of fitting in. But I couldn’t admit that. Not yet.

“I guess,” I murmured, though I knew deep down there was more to it. Something Tyler hadn’t seen, something I couldn’t quite figure out.

Mom’s soft sigh echoed through the line. “Give it time, Y/N. Things will get better. And don’t be afraid to talk to your brother about how you’re feeling.”

“I’ll try, Ma.” It was all I could promise. The barista called my name, and I pulled the phone away. “Gotta go, the coffee’s ready.”

“Okay, honey. Be safe. Love you,” she said, her voice warm and encouraging.

“Love you too,” I replied before ending the call.

I grabbed the drinks and started back toward the venue, my mind swirling with questions. Josh had always been distant, but now it felt like there was something heavier weighing on him whenever I was around. Maybe it was the tour stress like my mom said, but maybe… it was something else.

By the time I reached the venue, my hands were trembling slightly. I hated feeling like this—like I was always walking on eggshells, like I didn’t know where I stood. The sound of Tyler and Josh talking drifted out of the practice space as I pushed open the door.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Tyler grinned, walking over to grab his coffee. He gave me a quick side hug, as if he could sense the unease hanging around me.

“Yeah, no problem,” I mumbled, trying to focus on the warmth of Tyler’s brief hug instead of the way Josh was staring down at his drumsticks, avoiding eye contact altogether. It wasn’t unusual. He always found a way to look through me instead of at me.

I handed Josh his coffee without a word, forcing myself to keep my expression neutral. He muttered a quick “thanks” under his breath, still refusing to meet my gaze. The silence that followed stretched uncomfortably between us, broken only by the faint buzz of Tyler’s laptop in the background.

This was becoming unbearable. Every moment around Josh was like this—tense, awkward, like we were circling something neither of us wanted to confront. And I was tired. Tired of being the one pushed away. Tired of pretending it didn’t hurt every time Josh found another excuse to distance himself.

Tyler was busy adjusting his laptop, his face focused on the screen as the next track queued up. I glanced over at Josh, who was tapping his drumsticks on his knee, a subtle frown creasing his forehead.

Suddenly, Josh stood up, muttering something about needing air before heading toward the door. My heart clenched. If I didn’t say something now, I wasn’t sure when I’d get another chance.

Tyler barely looked up from his screen. “Josh’ll be back. He just does this sometimes,” he said, more to himself than me.

But I wasn’t waiting for Josh to come back. I was done waiting.

I stood up, ignoring the fluttering nerves in my stomach, and followed Josh out the door. The bright afternoon sun hit me as soon as I stepped outside, the warm air doing little to calm the rush of adrenaline flooding through me.

Josh was sitting on the curb, head tilted back, eyes closed, breathing deeply as if he was trying to calm himself. For a moment, I hesitated, but then the memory of him constantly pushing me away flashed in my mind, and I knew I couldn’t keep holding back.

“Josh,” I called out, my voice firm but shaky.

He opened his eyes and glanced over his shoulder at me, his expression unreadable. He didn’t say anything as I approached, just watched me with that same guarded look he always wore.

I stopped a few feet away, my arms crossed tightly over my chest, trying to keep myself from trembling. “We need to talk.”

Josh’s gaze flickered with something I couldn’t quite place—guilt, maybe, or frustration. He let out a long breath before responding. “About what?”

“About this,” I said, gesturing between us, feeling the weight of the tension in the space between us. “About you always finding ways to get rid of me.”

Josh dropped his head, staring at the ground like the cracks in the pavement were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. “I’m not—”

“Don’t,” I interrupted, my voice sharper than I intended. “Don’t act like you haven’t been doing it on purpose. I’ve tried to be patient, tried to be understanding, but I can’t do this anymore, Josh. I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

He flinched slightly at my words, his shoulders tensing as if they carried the weight of the world. For a moment, I thought he might ignore me, brush me off like he always did. But then he looked up, meeting my gaze with an intensity that made my breath catch.

“I’m not doing it to hurt you, Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice rough around the edges. “I’m doing it because I have to.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Why? Why do you have to push me away?”

Josh stood up then, running a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. “Because you don’t belong in this, okay? You’re not supposed to be here. You’re Tyler’s sister—”

“And what, that means I can’t be a part of this band?” I cut him off, my frustration bubbling over. “That I can’t be around you guys? I’ve been with you since the beginning, Josh! I love music as much as you do, and I’ve worked hard to fit in with you two, but you keep acting like I don’t matter.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Josh said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “It’s not about you not belonging to the band. It’s about…” He trailed off, biting his lip, clearly torn between what he wanted to say and what he was willing to admit.

“What is it about?” I demanded, taking a step closer. “Because I don’t get it, Josh. If you don’t hate me, then why do you keep pushing me away?”

Josh hesitated, glancing around as if hoping someone else would swoop in and take over this conversation for him. When no one did, he let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“It’s because I can’t… I can’t get close to you,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Tyler’s my best friend. I’ve known him for years, and I owe everything to him. If he thought for a second that I—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “I can’t risk screwing that up.”

“Screwing what up?” I asked, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and something else—something I wasn’t ready to name just yet. “What are you so afraid of?”

Josh’s eyes met mine, and for a moment, everything was laid bare between us. His carefully constructed walls, the distance he kept, all of it crumbled in the intensity of his gaze.

“I’m afraid of what happens if I let myself feel anything for you,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “Because once I do, there’s no going back.”

His confession hung in the air, heavy and raw. I stood there, my breath catching in my throat, trying to process what he had just said. All this time, all the distance, wasn’t because he didn’t like me—it was because he did.

I blinked, trying to steady my breath as the weight of Josh's confession settled over me like a thick fog. All the moments I thought he was avoiding me, brushing me off—it wasn’t indifference. It was fear. Fear of something real, something he couldn’t control.

“You…” I started, my voice trembling. “You’ve been pushing me away because you’re scared of liking me?”

Josh's jaw clenched, and he let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his messy hair. “Not just liking you, Y/N. I already like you. I crossed that line a long time ago.” His voice was rough, like he was admitting something he never thought he’d say out loud. “It’s more than that. Once I let myself feel—if I let myself care—I don’t know if I can stop.”

My heart raced, pounding in my ears as his words sank in. I took a shaky step forward, feeling the pull between us stronger than ever, the tension no longer something I wanted to fight.

“Josh,” I whispered, the space between us feeling impossibly small. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He shook his head, his eyes locking onto mine with a look that was equal parts longing and regret. “Because you’re Tyler’s sister. He’s my best friend, Y/N. If something happens between us and it goes wrong… I could lose everything. The band, him—you.”

I felt my throat tighten. I knew what he was saying made sense in his head, but it didn’t change the fact that it hurt. “But you’re already losing me,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Every time you push me away, every time you find a reason to avoid me—it’s tearing me apart.”

Josh looked down, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “I know,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought it’d be easier if I kept my distance, but… it’s not. It’s killing me, too.”

The vulnerability in his voice caught me off guard. Josh, the guy who always seemed so in control, so confident, was unraveling right in front of me. And suddenly, I wasn’t angry anymore. I wasn’t hurt. I just wanted him to stop hiding.

I stepped closer, so close I could feel the warmth radiating from him, the tension crackling between us like electricity. “Then stop,” I said softly. “Stop pushing me away.”

Josh’s eyes flicked to mine, and for a second, I saw a flash of something raw and desperate in his gaze. “You don’t understand, Y/N. If I let myself have this—have you—I don’t know if I’ll be able to let go.”

I swallowed hard, my heart racing. “Maybe you don’t have to let go.”

He stared at me, his breath shallow, like he was fighting every instinct to move closer. The air between us was charged, thick with everything we’d been holding back for so long. I could feel the pull, the gravity of what this moment meant. But Josh was still hesitating, still caught in the war between what he wanted and what he thought he had to do.

“Josh,” I whispered, reaching out and placing a hand on his arm. The contact sent a jolt through me, and I saw him tense under my touch. “You don’t have to be scared. We can figure this out—together.”

His eyes searched mine, his breathing ragged, and for a split second, I thought he might pull away again. But then, slowly, he reached up and cupped the side of my face, his thumb brushing gently against my cheek. The touch was so tender, so full of everything he hadn’t been able to say, and my heart felt like it might burst.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “But I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” I promised, leaning into his touch, my own fear melting away in the warmth of his hand. “I’m right here.”

For a moment, neither of us moved, the weight of everything hanging in the air between us. Then, almost like he couldn’t fight it anymore, Josh leaned in, closing the gap between us. His lips brushed mine, tentative at first, like he was testing the waters, but the second we connected, it was like everything else disappeared. The kiss deepened, and all the tension, all the longing we’d been holding back came crashing to the surface. I felt his hands move to my waist, pulling me closer, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, not wanting to let go. It was everything I hadn’t let myself hope for—raw, intense, and real.

When we finally pulled away, both of us were breathless, our foreheads resting against each other’s. Josh’s eyes fluttered open, and the look in them nearly took my breath away. There was no more fear, no more hesitation. Just him—just us.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but steady. “But I’m not running anymore. I can’t.”

I smiled softly, my heart swelling with something warm and unfamiliar—something I hadn’t let myself feel before. “Good,” I whispered, my thumb tracing the line of his jaw. “Because I’m not letting you.”

He let out a breathy laugh, the tension between us finally easing, replaced by something lighter, something hopeful. We stayed like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other, the world around us fading into the background.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t feel like I was being pushed away.

Requests open!!

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iadoreyoungmen · 2 years

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A little more about me.

Retired at 60 but still working hard on the house. This is my 5th house, a bungalow in Suffolk which like most of my houses was in need of repair, updating and improvement

It's been hard through my life always getting a house which needed so much work doing but has paid off when selling, however this is most likely my last so I'll not reap the benefits like the others. You only get out what toy put in and property can sell for significantly more if in a stylish and trouble free house.

This is some of my work, note I do 98% myself, which takes me a little longer to get the affect but cheaper.

The bathroom as it's called in the UK but this one doesn't have a bath lol. Picture before and after

Now this last picture isn't complete but the last I took of the improvement.

I done the design, plumbing, electrics, carpentry, decorating, tiling and flooring.

We even have a speaker so can listen to music to relax while showering.

I'm pleased with the results, it was challenging and made my back and hands sore but worth it.

My latest project is the garage.

The ceiling board was bad, the loft hatch awful, lighting wrong, tap location wrong and it affected the house with cold due to the thin walls. So I cleared the ceilings, knocked a wall down, got the ceiling renewed and insulation board on the house wall then plastered.

Moved the tap, relocated the lights and switches, reinforced the ceiling joists around the loft hatch and a new loft hatch with wood ladder for easy access, and of course it all fits nicely tucked in the ceiling out of the way. I've painted the walls, ceiling and floor so now clean and brighter than ever. I need to box in the gas pipes and meter but should be finished soon. Then I can get the stuff back in and the car...

Before and after pics!

At the gar end is the wall which I took down, had an outside cupboard which wasted space so hopefully adequate better use without the walls and moved the door to the left for better rear access. The after picture is not complete, but if you're a DIY person you know, it's never finished lol...

The other door on the right as you look down the garage will be replaced with a low wall and window as its not required. The garage floor surface wasn't great but 100% better painted.

So there's more in my like that adoring male beauty and a sense of pride in my work

Paul

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musicarenagh · 1 year

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Lovely" by 9OASES: A Hypnotic and Euphoric Ode to UK Garage "Lovely" by 9OASES is a mesmerizing and transporting track that seamlessly blends elements of hip hop, electronic music, and UK garage. The song opens with a hypnotic vocal snippet that dances in different pitches, creating a dynamic and atmospheric soundscape. The drum break, enhanced by the richness of analog drum samples, adds a rhythmic depth that runs through the core of the song. Spherical synth lines intertwine gracefully, painting a soundscape that stirs the imagination and transports the listener to ethereal realms. These melodies blend seamlessly with the hypnotizing vocal line, creating a harmonious synergy. As the song progresses, a break emerges as the highlight of the track. Piano chords, the vocal line, and the early 2000s-inspired lead synth in the middle of the track evoke vivid images of dance floors and euphoric spaces in the listener's mind. The song invites you to surrender to its charms, taking you to ecstatic moments and enveloping you in its irresistible charm. "Lovely" is a masterclass in sound design and production. The song was crafted with attention to detail, and it is clear that 9OASES have a deep understanding of their craft. The song's production is top-notch. The soundscape is lush and enveloping, and the track's energy is infectious. The song is also incredibly catchy, and it is sure to get stuck in your head after just one listen. The song's title, "Lovely," is perfectly apt. The track is indeed lovely, with its hypnotic vocals, swirling synths, and driving rhythms. The song is sure to appeal to fans of a variety of genres, including hip hop, electronic music, and UK garage. If you are a fan of hip hop, electronic music, or UK garage, then you need to check out "Lovely" by 9OASES. This song is a true gem, and it is sure to become a classic. Listen to Lovely below Follow 9OASES on Spotify Instagram

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wordbirb · 1 year

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Album Review: Circulation of Light by IVU

Berlin-based electronic music producer Jing Yu 虞菁 aka IVU has just released a new mini-album. It features six tracks. Each has its own distinct feeling, genre wise ranging from Minimal Techno to Tech-House and UK Garage - if you want to put labels on it. The artist invites the listener to go on an inner-dance journey. Titled "Circulation of Light”, the name is inspired by The Secret of the Golden Flower 太乙金華宗旨, a 17th Daoist meditation book on the concept of inner alchemy which was first introduced into Western countries by Richard Wilhelm and Carl Jung. As the production is bass heavy and highly dense, it is need of a good sound system or headphones.

The first track ‘San’ has the groove of something that you might hear at four in the morning at Get Perlonized (a German label party founded in 1997 by Markus Nikolai and Thomas Franzmann aka Zip, known for trailblazing in minimalistic experimental Tech-House). ‘Amoeba’ follows, which sounds as trippy as a single cell organism looks like under the microscope. Time wise it might be the shortest, but the next track ‘Ye Ye’ has all qualities of a banger that can make hearts meld together. For those who love the early 00s breakbeat vibe, this is a real gem. Side B starts with ‘Another Trip’ and has a muffled lullaby-like vocal which takes the listener down a Perlonesque rabbit hole. ‘Mount Kailash’ with its four to the floor beat has a mesmerizing sound texture that undulates, transmitting a hovering sensation through an eventful soundscape, a highlight on this album. The last track is layered in meditative frequencies guided by a hypnotic beat. We hear the voice of the American electronic music composer Robert Ashley ‘What Was Unclear Is Clear’ from Éliane Radigue's "Songs of Milarepa” (an album that was compiled in Radigue’s analog studio between 1981 and 1983, inspired by the life of the 11th century Tibetan Buddhist poet and revered yogi).

All tracks are characteristic for IVU’s sound in that they are capable of painting sonic pictures that are outstanding for their emotional depth. Due to her use of modular synths in combination with self-built MaxMSP patches, the uniqueness is audible even for those who are unfamiliar with the processes of electronic music production. The inclusion of samples from spiritual sources adds another layer to the music that when played to an open and engaged crowd could without a doubt take the dance floor to the next level.

#music blog #album review #IVU #circulation of light #minimal techno #tech-house #uk garage #mini album #maxmsp #modular synth #electronic music #berlin

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cricketcat9 · 3 years

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Long uplifting post, will make you feel better

By Stephen Givot, from Poland:

Today was my first day actually contributing to the humanitarian disaster unfolding in Europe. It has been impossible to sign up for work at World Central Kitchen. When I emailed, they said just show up, there’s plenty to do. This morning I showed up. The nearest lodging I could book is about 90 minutes south of Przemsyl (Poland) in Sanok (Poland). It’s only about 45 miles, but the drive is across the Carpathian Mountains (2 passes) and through a countryside where most of the farmhouses have chimneys bellowing smoke from burning firewood. The road is about 20-30 miles from the Ukraine border. When I arrived there were about 50 people working in about 25,000 sq ft (half the CBOE trading floor) that was a dirty warehouse three weeks ago. In a week, World Central Kitchen (WCK) paint everything from the floor up. There had been no plumbing other than a toilet. Now there is state of the art mass quantity cooking equipment, stainless steel sinks, 6 for diameter “paella pans” that hold about 950 GALLONS of food (up to the brim) on enormous propane burners. I think there are ten of these. There is a walk in refrigeration room that is about 2000 sq ft that a Polish company put together in 24 hours with a garage door to enter and leave with enormous quantities of food on fork lifts. Today, my little group from Ohio, Idaho, Portugal, Canada, and the UK peeled an enormous quantity of potatos and cored/sliced an ungodly amount of apples (for baby food). I won’t go into details, but we were told that we fed 7000 people in Przemsyl and at the border, and we prepped food to be cooked in Lviv, Ukraine for another 30,000 people. Not a typo: 30,000. The volunteers are from everywhere in Europe, the US/Canada, and one from Japan. They show up, and they work. Some for a few days, some for longer. After the 90 commute and 10 hours working, I’m tired but also wired. Sometime in the next few days, I’ll join trips to three places. One trip will be to the train station in Przemsyl. I’m told there are 70 Polish volunteers greeting people as they leave the train and helping them sort out their next destination. Some know people in Europe and have a place to go. Far too many do not. They are being spread throughout Poland and beyond. I have been told that most homes and apartments in Warsaw and Krakow have a host family and one or two refugee families. The generosity of the Polish people is beyond comprehension. A second trip will be to a local shopping mall that has just been built but is not yet occupied. There are many thousands of women and children sleeping on the floors as well as an enormous space used to store donations of clothing, baby goods, things to occupy kids, etc. The third trip will be to the border. I will be serving people the first meal many have had in days. With the bombing near Lviv (not far across the border), many people who had traveled as far as Lviv are not coming to Poland — many on foot. They (many with children of all ages) are tired, hungry, and cold. The temperature at night is around freezing. The past two days have been warm (50s) and sunny. Still, when they reach the border, hot food is an immediate need. I will update this daily. The last thing I’ll post is one ton of beef and 1000 pounds of apples for baby food — part of what was cooked today.”

Thank you, Stephen, and every volunteer who works to help, in any capacity. Faith in humanity restored. 💖

#ukraine #refugees #poland #assistance #volunteers

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hotwings0203 · 3 years

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as ur irl bestie i am cashing in my favor and am asking- no begging for a dilf damon fic pls <3

😑fine fineee I guess I can take a quick break from writing BNHA stuff for you🙄

CW: NSFW, Damon Albarn being an a-hole, manipulation, gaslighting, language minor stuff like that

The studio itself was pretty spacious, you couldn't lie. As much as you loathed to give this cursed group any more credit, you were hard-pressed to remember the last time you´d been called into such a professional recording booth. You were used to dingy atmospheres, crumbling walls, stained carpet, and even cramped garages at times. It felt like your years of meticulously swaying your hand back and forth on the rosin and tuning your strings until they damn near popped were slowly going down the drain, lost in spaces of screaming adolescent boys and shady market agents. The streets of London were unforgiving for a young musician like you, no room to turn to since others were exactly in the same position as you.

It was by pure coincidence that the day you had played for a local cafe for a small commission, Graham fucking Coxon was sitting in the back of the run-down joint, sipping a murky glass of Bourbon.

You didn't notice him at first, of course. You had simply let the music in your mind travel from your head down to your arms, and allowed it to move through your fingertips to your bow. The serene melody that sang through the air had turned his head to face you, the shitty drink in his hand stopped halfway to his mouth.

Your solo was only a couple of minutes, but the second you were done and packing your bags to head out, the brunette made a beeline for you, blocking your exit.

¨Uh, can I help you?¨ You cock your head and shift your violin case.

¨Yes, you can actually. Listen, I know this is gonna sound a bit straightforward, but I really liked your piece. Did you compose it yourself?¨ He sounds quiet and sounds nervous, with him barely looking you in the eyes.

¨Yeah, I did!¨ You can´t help but beam-it took you several days just to perfect a few meager lines, but in the end you were content with the piece.

¨Wow...that's serious talent right there,¨ He opens the door for you, and you nod before you head out, him trailing behind you as he leaves with you.

¨You make a good amount of money doing small jobs like this?¨ His voice is nasally and low, but with a slightly higher pitch than your typical London accent.

At this, you squint your eyes a bit and turn your head at him. It was nice of him to be interested in your work, but for someone you don't personally know, the idea of talking about your small gigs that merited little to no money was not something you were fond of.

He senses your hesitancy and immediately withdraws. ¨I´m sorry, that was probably rude of me to be so blunt about it. Actually, I don´t think I´ve properly introduced myself.¨ He stops to face you, and you do the same.

¨I´m Graham Coxon. You may or may not have heard of me, but I can assure you that I too enjoy music, as an understatement.¨ He extends a calloused hand and smiles a little bit, adjusting the blocky glasses on his face.

Graham...Coxon? Graham as in....oh, holy shit.

¨No way.¨

¨Er...unfortunately, yes way.¨ His soft voice lilts as he holds back a laugh, and you gape at him.

¨Oh my god!¨ You drop your violin case in the excitement of eagerly returning his handshake. ¨You-you're from Blur! I know you!¨

¨Was from Blur, and ´careful now, don´t wanna ruin your instrument. But listen, I´m kind of in a bind here so I´ll get to the chase. We´re working on a few chords here and there back at the studio, and I´ve been on the lookout for a while for someone who fits our tune. ´Thing is, the deadline for submitting our song is comin´ up fast, so we only have a couple weeks left.¨

You raise your eyebrows, heart pounding in your chest as you listen to his proposition.

¨So I´m thinking, you sound pretty good, it's exactly what we need to fill in our bridge. I´d love it if you came in and played a tune for us. If we like you and you´re cool with it, you could feature on our song.¨

It feels surreal. Were you hearing right? Graham Coxon from Blur asking you to play on his song? This had to be a prank.

¨Ẅait, but you've only heard me once, what if my sound doesn't match what you're actually looking for?¨ You stammer, palms clammy as you wipe them off on your trousers.

¨Well, that's what a rehearsal session is for, lovely,¨ He chuckles nervously and slides his slightly foggy glasses up his nose. ¨So, you wanna give it a go?¨

You think for a moment, biting your lower lip. There wasn't exactly anything stopping you now, was there? I mean, sure, the prospect of playing in front of one of UK's most famous bands was daunting, but this was your chance to finally be recognized!

Taking a deep breath, you pick up your fallen case and nod. ¨Alright, I´m in. When you do wanna meet up?¨

Graham visibility deflates in relief, letting out a shaky exhale. ¨Great. I'll text you the time and place, yeah? The boys and I´ve gotta get a few more things set up, so we´ll be in contact soon.¨

You both exchange numbers, your phone tingling in your hand long after you bid farewell and drive home in a buzz.

When you finally get home to your apartment, you throw your keys onto the counter and flop down onto the mattress. What a fucking day.

So many thoughts bounce around in your addled head. You want to do well, but obviously you don't have their kind of experience in the industry. Should you play more in tune with their song, or continue with your own sound? An idea pops into your head amidst your lunch, a few hours later. Why not just do some more research on the band themselves? Then you'd know exactly what kind of music they're looking for.

The boys and I´ve gotta get a few more things set up.

Oh yeah, who else was in the band? It's not like you didn't know who Blur was at their peak, but you paid more attention to their music rather than their faces. Truthfully, you never really basked in tabloids and newspapers purring about the next big scandal, or the top dogs of Britain´s industry when that stuff was relevant.

You abandon your pathetic sandwich and make your way to your laptop, sliding into a chair and getting down to business. After a few quick searches, you pull up a couple tabs around the name Blur.

Graham Coxon- Recovering alcoholic. Big fight with Damon Albarn.

Alex James- Cute boy turned conservative. Classic case.

Dave Rowntree- Mainly untouched. Became a successful lawyer. Good for him.

Damon Albarn- A fucking mess.

Puffing up your cheeks and putting your hands behind your head, you lean back in your chair. Good god, this man is a wreck. Headlines from decades ago swim in and out of your eyes, loud, obnoxious neon prints of Justine and Damon broken up again? Suede claps back!, or Will the Blur Brothers ever come back to each other? Find out first-hand from Coxon himself!, and worst of all, Albarn relapses again, Damon Albarn from Blur goes head-to-head with Liam and Noel-news flash, the brothers win!

You think you see something about him and a potential wife and child, and that's when you decide it's time to sleep.

After all, there's no point in getting caught up in any of their backstories.You were just there to play a solo and get out. Nosing around in their lives was more trouble than what it was worth, anyways.

Which is exactly what you kept trying to tell yourself as you walked into the modern studio two weeks later, its grey soundproof walls and white floor screaming fancy and rich to you. And fancy and rich didn't come without grit and experience, which you had none of. As if to emphasize your inexperience, you went into the wrong halls twice before you exasperatedly checked your messages with Graham and saw that no, it wasn´t room 311, it was room 113.

Finally, finally, you came across your designated room. The mahogany door was closed, and you placed a hand on the silver knob. You could faintly hear the sounds of a guitar being played from the inside, and it was curiosity above everything else that compelled you to push it open.

From behind the clear window that separated the booth from the recording area, you see them. Graham, Damon, and other men you don't recognize are all in the midst of the song, the same song Graham had texted you the PDF of for the violin notes. You sheepishly take a few steps forward and clear your throat to catch the attention of a bald man leaning back against his chair right in front of the glass. He turns around and you give a weak little wave, clutching your case in the other hand.

¨Hey, I´m here for-¨

¨-Yeah, yeah, Graham told me all about you. Go on ahead and join in, they just started.¨ He pulls a toothpick out from between his lips and gestures to the door of the divider.

You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you make your way through the second door, and the second you step inside meekly, Damon and Graham´s eyes are on you.

Graham continues to play the guitar, only lighting up his eyes and giving you an encouraging nod when you step in, and the other two men on bass and saxophone also give a quick smile in greeting. And Damon…well.

Damon barely acknowledges you.

He continues to sing and stare straight ahead at the wall in front of him as if there's an interesting scene being played out on the grey paint.

You´re unsure of whether to catch his attention and give a proper greeting, but you decide not to as it would interfere with the song. So instead, you quickly grab a nearby chair and stand and set up your rosin and papers.

Your timing is perfect; the bridge is about to come up. Just to be certain, you look up from your poised position and catch the eyes of most everyone except for Damon´s. They all give you a quick thumbs up or an expectant look for your confirmation of playing.

And then, it comes. Damon stops singing, and your cue to sweep your bow across the horse hairs of your strings comes.

Melodious, whole, fulfilling, it was. Graham´s guitar chords harmonized with the tones of your violin, and music that you´ve never dreamed of creating was made by your hands exceptionally.

Everyone was in awe of your raw talent, from the way their gazes were rapt onto your bow, moving back and forth,staying still in some highs and whittling away at the lows. You even thought you saw the producer from inside the booth turn his head towards you from the corner of your eye, but you couldn´ be sure.

Everyone except Damon Albarn.

The song ended a minute later with the signal of a fading out bass, and then there was silence.

¨Right on with that tune.. ´Thought we'd be fucked ova´ if we didn't find someone to take that melody.¨ The bassist with long shaggy hair grinned and you returned one back.

¨Yeah, I was kind of hesitant when Graham ´ere told us he found one to take this position on, but I'm pleased.¨ The saxophone player scratched his chin and hummed his agreement. You felt relief.

Until he spoke.

¨Is this your first time playing?¨

You look incredulously over at him, looking straight on at his face. Sandy hair, lines on his cheeks, slight scruff around his chin, he looked older than his online pictures.

¨Uhh, no?¨ You laugh a little, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice. ¨If I was, I doubt Graham would think I´m good enough to play with you guys.¨

¨I don't think Graham is the only one who needs to think that.¨ Everyone shifts uncomfortably, looking nervously from Damon to you, and Graham tugs his collar as if the temperature had gone up.

But nonetheless, you don't back down.

¨Oh yeah? How so?¨

¨You played the G-string too high,¨ He deadpans, looking utterly bored amidst oceanic hues.

¨What?¨ You flip your music pages a couple of times until you find the page where you played that part. ¨No I didn´t, I was right on tune-do you even know how to play the violin?¨

¨No,¨ he smirks, and with your blood boiling steadily you open your mouth to argue, but thankfully Graham butts in.

¨Damon, don´t be a prick, she played fine. Unlike you, who fucked up on the 5th verse.¨

The man in question lazily stretches his arms above his head, causing his white tee to rise a few inches over his belly button. You can´t help but glance at the skin-it's smooth, cleanly chiseled with part of his v-line showing, a happy trail rising from the juncture.

¨Oi, sweetheart, eyes up here.¨

You snap your gaze back to his smug face, cheeks burning.

¨I didn´t-¨

¨Sure you didn´t. Just like how I didn't mess up on the 5th verse, and how you didn't ruin the song with your shitty violin, yeah?¨ He simpers, and you almost rise out of your seat to snarl at him before Graham jumps in between you two, scolding a very inappropriately-grinning Damon.

You get up out of your chair and huff, shoving your belongings back into your bag as everyone else packs up, the men bickering and playfully throwing shit at each other.

The producer even congratulates you on your successful first day, and everyone cheers and pounds you on your back, your hair falling in your face and gracefully hiding your 120k watt smile.

Damon shoulders right past you, knocking your case right out of your hands. You grapple with it for a second before it hits the ground, and when it does you whip around and shoot him an icy glare.

He's not even looking at you, he's already out the door.

It's quiet for a moment.

¨Well, there he goes again being a dickhead. Classic Damon, you got.¨ The saxophone player points to the leaving blond and grins sheepishly at you.

¨What's his problem?¨ You ask in disgust, shaking your head as you join the rest of the boys leaving.

¨Uh, well...¨ Graham scratches the back of his head and avoids looking at you. ¨He's always been kind of like that, y´know, so don't take it too personally, but between just us four, his wife´s been on his arse for a bit about um...some...domestic affairs.¨ He finishes lamely, and the other two men guffaw at your raised eyebrow.

You don't have a chance to press further as to ask what domestic affairs, exactly because a loud clap of thunder shakes you all to your cores as you step outside.

¨Aw, come on!¨ You stamp your foot and hold out your hand for confirmation of the raindrops about to drop on you all. ¨I didn't know it was gonna rain today,¨ you grumble.

Graham squints up at the sky and wipes some droplets off his blurred glasses, covering his head with his jacket hood as he begins walking to the parking garage. ¨I´ll see you lot in about a week, yeah? Just keep practicing, good rehearsal we had today!¨ He waves his hand and dashes off.

¨Good job on your first day, Y/N. Fancy the weather on your walk back for us!¨ The sax and bass player bid farewell and also do a sprint to their respective cars, splashing through the puddles and sending muddy water on your pants.

¨Urgh!¨ You raise your hands to try and protect your bottoms but to no avail- London's sewage strikes again.

Sighing in defeat, you walk through the rain towards your car, succumbing to the grimy walk. Unfortunately you didn't think to use the parking garage due to high nerves when you first came in.

You walk for about 5 minutes, the rain drenching your hair and clothes and chilling you to your bones.

Could this day get any more annoying?

Oh, but you should´ve known that it could.

Because right at that moment, a black limo swerves right next to you on the sidewalk, sending a massive wave of gutter water right your way.

You swear loudly and jump back, barely managing to avoid the remnants of the sewage tsunami crossing your feet.

Looking up wildly at the offensive vehicle, you make a fist and flip the window off, your lip curled up into a snarl.

The obsidian glass rolls down.

¨Well that's not very nice, is it? Nasty weather we got going on right now, careful it doesn't get on your clothes.¨

Oh.

¨It's you,¨ you monotone, less than pleased to see his salacious grin at your predicament-which was being soaked to your undergarments in brown muddy water, your hair clinging to your face and your violin case lugging down towards the ground, its weight proving mutiny against you today of all days.

¨In the flesh,¨ Damon beams, and you scowl at his cheery attitude.

¨You almost drowned me, asshole,¨ You turn your nose up in scorn, and he chuckles in his baritone voice.

¨Nah, cant´ve love, I can't drive,¨ he clicks his tongue and jerks his thumb to the seat in front of him, where you assume his chauffeur is.

¨Oh, so it was under your orders that your poor driver practically waterboarded me?¨ ¨Well, yeah, I mean what else do you expect me to do when I see a pretty lady walking so harmlessly in the rain?¨ Your voice catches in your throat for a second from his words and the way his glacial eyes twinkle for a moment, but then he erupts in dry chuckles at your demeanor and you throttle your hesitancy at speaking.

¨Shut up, you're absolutely vile, y´know that?¨ ¨So I´ve been told, but to be honest sweetheart, I´d rather hear that in bed, where I´m used to hearing it. Now are you going to get in or shall I talk about my sexual prowess with you the rest of the afternoon?¨ He opens his door from the inside and mockingly winks at you.

You feign a gag, but still decide to jump in the spacious limo when a flash of lightning lights up the sky.

He scoots back to give you space to sit and adjust your violin case on the seats in front of you, but just as you´re about to close the door, he leans in right next to you and reaches behind you to pull it shut himself.

You´re caught still as he draws close, you´re extended hand frozen in midair as his arm against your back flexes and stiffens with it pulling the door. You can feel his breath against your neck as he exhales, can feel some of his hair tickling against your ear and cheek. You hold your breath, not daring to move lest you accidentally brush up against his proximity.

The loud slam of the door causes you to jump, and he laughs a little at that, signaling his driver to go.

You don't quite face him, your gaze down in your lap as his entire body is facing you, still stuck in its position when he was closing the car door.

¨Not nervous, are you?¨ He murmurs in your ear, and you can´t help it when your whole body shivers at feeling the rumble in his gravelly voice.

¨N-no, I´m not. Do you have to be so close?¨ You stammer, barely giving him a sideways glance which eggs him on, much to your displeasure.

¨Not really. But if you´re not nervous, then it shouldn't be a problem, right?¨ He says quietly and leans around to catch your eye.

Before you can lose your nerve and jump out of the car, you snap at him. ¨You just don´t quit, do you?¨

He finally relents and the side of his pink lips lift lazily as he stretches his knees out and practically manspreads across the expanse of three seats. ¨Nope. Not that you really were against it though, ´could feel your heart pounding a mile a minute sweetheart. Trust me, I´m used to making girls nervous, I would know.¨

You sneer at him. ¨Don´t call me sweetheart, and yeah, I was nervous about getting some disease-ridden prick like you getting close to me. God knows how many STD´s you've contracted from bedding some poor groupies.¨

¨Only one way to find out, right love?¨ He leans his head up to the car ceiling and lets his tousled golden hair flop back, his jawline accentuated by the cream-colored seats contrasting with his tan skin.

You catch yourself staring, and shake your head quickly.

¨You must´ve been more hopped up on heroine than I thought if you think I´d ever fuck a self-absorbed, narcissitic bastard like you.¨

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, but once they do your eyes widen and you clap a hand over your mouth in horror.

Damon lifts his head and slowly turns to face you, his mouth set in a thin line.

¨A self-absorbed, narcissistic bastard whose limo you're riding in, need I remind you, so I can´t be all that bad. ´Can't say I haven't heard any of that before love, but most girls who say that end up in my bed anyways.¨

You open your mouth to argue but he cuts you off.

¨Although, ´hopped up on heroin´ is a new one. Just exactly how much research have you done about me so far?¨

Your rebuttal dies in your throat. You were caught.

Your ears burn and your face flushes as you bite your lip in embarrassment. Maybe you went too far, and on top of that you let it slip that you knew about him beforehand.

But you refuse to kowtow in humiliation to this idiot, so you think quickly.

¨I doubt you´ve got your head that far up your ass to disregard how half the world was tuning into your personal life when Blur was big, Damon.¨

He looks unimpressed with your excuse, but before he can open his mouth to question you further, you hurry up with another save.

¨Also, where are we going? You never asked me where my car was.¨

Bingo His eyes brighten and he shouts at the driver, harping on about him being a brain-dead idiot for driving in circles the past 10 minutes.

What a save.

*******************

The moment you step into the booth next week, a drumstick is lobbed at you from seemingly nowhere. You yelp and hold your case up, blocking the weapon as it bounces off your makeshift shield. You bring the case down and shoot a glare towards the only man you know capable of acting so childishly at his grown age.

But he´s already scrolling through his phone, looking for a measure to start from.

¨You´re late.¨

¨Hardly,¨ you mutter, glancing at the clock on the wall. Two minutes past shouldn´t be an excuse for having a drumstick pick out your eye.

¨Good to see you again, Y/N,¨ Graham pipes up softly, sending you an apologetic glance from Damon to you and you stick out your tongue in faux annoyance.

The other two members of your group greet you as well, and you all begin practice. Notes begin harmonizing together, voice and sound coinciding to make music you´ve swayed your hips and nodded your head to on blue nights.

It´s a hot day, humidity clinging to your skin akin to the perspiration hanging off your forehead, and halfway through the song you decide to take off your sweater. You´re wearing a white tank top underneath, nothing too revealing save for the slight dip in the V-neck, but you couldn't care less about modesty at the moment when your fingers were literally slipping in their grasp on your sweat-slicked bow.

During a quick break in your part of the song, you slip off your sweater and fan yourself out. It feels good, but you feel a pair of eyes staring at you. Following the laser gaze, you turn your head to face Damon, but he´s nose-deep in the lyrics sheet, warbling about a broken love or friendship.

Huh, must´ve been imagining it.

Your solo comes up, and you prepare yourself for tackling the notes to your best ability, keeping up with Graham´s rapid guitar pace. Sweat continues to build on everyone´s vicinity when the rapid movement of arms waving around their own instrument causes more body heat to suffocate you all.

Miraculously, the song finishes, and you collapse in your seat like the rest of the men, panting and wiping slick off your foreheads. You reach for a bottle of water on the floor and unscrew the lid, grimacing at its lukewarm temperature but drinking it nonetheless.

For the second time, you have an unnerving feeling of being watched. This time, you whip your head to the side and catch him staring straight at you.

Damon´s face is flushed, his hair tousled, his rose colored glasses steamed up from the muggy aura in the room. His denim jacket is hanging off one shoulder, the rest of his torso covered with a sheer wife beater that accentuates his chiseled dad-body.

But he just stares you down, saying nothing. You frown at him a little bit and shift your body away from him, feeling vulnerable to his laser-gaze. His eyes darken, but Graham speaks, cutting him off from whatever he was about to say.

¨That was pretty good, you lot. Greg, Taz, hold off on the third beat of the fourth measure. We´ve gotta crescendo slightly-¨

¨Y/N, do you have a job?¨

Damon's voice cuts off Graham, and everyone falters as they look at him and then you in surprise.

¨I don´t know what you mean,¨ you respond coolly, knowing that whatever he was about to say wasn't good.

¨I mean, do you have a job? Because as far as I know, most people who work don't dress like whores at their job.¨

His eyes travel from your face down to your slight cleavage, and you sputter in rage as the rest of the boys shift uncomfortably.

¨Damon, for god's sake what´re you on about?¨ Graham asks wearily, taking his glasses off and rubbing his shiny neck.

¨I could ask you the same thing, actually. Because as far as I know, you've fucked enough women in your lifetime that one would think you could keep it in your pants for five minutes without acting like a twelve-year-old. Oh, but unless that´s too professional for you? I guess you´re not as serious about your work environment as you claim.¨ you laugh, and the sax player, Greg, snorts into his water bottle.

Damon sneers, ¨How could I forget, you actually have done your research about my life and sexual endeavors, what a cute little fangirl you are. If you wanted an autograph, you could've just asked, sweetheart.¨

¨Go fuck yourself,¨ you snap. ¨You´re all wearing wife-beaters anyways, what's the difference?¨

Damon starts again but Graham claps his hands loudly, startling you all.

¨Enough, both of you! What's gotten into you? Need I remind you that our song is due in less than two weeks? We need to finish this shit and get on with it. Stop acting like children.¨

You mumble under your breath and Damon shoots a dark look to his childhood friend, but the brunette doesn't back down, and continues to give advice on how to improve their song. You don´t look at Damon the rest of the session out of pure spite, but that doesn't stop him from shamelessly staring straight at you, right until it's time to leave.

The second Graham checks his watch and exclaims that it's a quarter past twelve already, you´re already bolting out of your seat and shoving your violin in its case, eager to get out of the disgustingly hot room.

Fortunately, this time you had the right idea to park in the garage like everyone else to avoid any other unwanted encounters, but unfortunately while it was nice to not be waterboarded on your walk, it wasn´t enough to stop said unwanted encounters from occurring.

Take right now, for instance.

As you stumble to your car in the blistering weather, your energy depletes faster and faster, causing you to be light headed. Practice was already tough enough in the sweltering heat, but after Damon's little scene you don't have any energy to even walk.

You crash blindly into your car, the metal of the doors burning your skin as you make contact with the handle. You hiss and jerk back, swaying slightly as your head fogs up. You can barely see, you feel like your clothes weigh a ton on you, so you slide down the vehicle and sit up against the tires, throwing your head back against the car and groaning. The idea of unlocking your doors and sitting in the seat where no doubt several temperatures higher will be settling on the dashboard and in the front row is nauseating.

Weather-2

You-0

You don't know the building well enough to know where a vending machine is, and even if you shot Graham a text, you don't have enough energy to wander around and scout for it.

And lo and behold, from a distance, a figure approaches. You squint as it draws nearer, and let out a laugh as the features come into familiarity.

The heat must be getting to you worse than you thought, because you´re certain you´re hallucinating Damon Albarn of all fucking people swaggering towards you, one hand holding his denim jacket over his shoulder, and a shit-eating grin on his face as he comes to stand in front of you.

All you can do is pant like a dog, looking up at him with unimpressed eyes.

¨Oi, G-String. ´Brought you some water.¨ he holds out a hand, and you choose to ignore the offensive nickname, insead noticing the large bottle in it, cold condensation covering its expanse.

Your eyes widen and you lick your lips unconsciously, holding your hands out for it.

Damon watches your tongue poke out and loses focus before snapping back to reality and moving his arm above your head. You pout and try to reach for it again, but he laughs and holds it even higher.

You glare and turn your head away from him, suddenly remembering how he embarrassed you earlier.

¨Go away. I don't want it anymore. You´re an asshole.¨ you mumble, perspiration hanging off your lip as you lick the salty beads away once again.

Damon´s eyes never leave your mouth as he listens to you and watches the pink appendage make its appearance again, and his mouth hangs open slightly unbeknownst to you for a second. You cross your arms and glare at the empty parking lot, silently willing him to go away.

He snaps back into focus yet again and shakes his head at you. ¨Oh come on love, I´m just teasing. You look like you´re about to die anyways, might as well make this your last meal-er, drink I mean.¨

¨I´m not taking anything from a complete dickhead who enjoys harassing women about their clothes. You know, for such a womanizer, you act pretty clueless about how comments like that would make a girl feel. No one else but you had an issue with it, or rather, had the audacity to point it out.¨ You cough at the last word, your dry throat and heavy head making it harder to talk.

He sighs and crouches down, balancing on the balls of his feet. He pops open the cap and gently turns your chin towards his face, much to your surprise. You´re genuinely too weak to protest, but when you look at his concerned face, eyebrows scrunched up and accentuating the lines on his forehead, you don't think you'd want to turn away even if you could.

He coaxes your agap mouth even more open by dragging a rough thumb down over your lips, and you obediently open your mouth, mesmerized by his eyes. His movements are soft and slow, as if you were a fidgety rabbit about to run off at the slightest touch. He scoots closer, right over in front of you as you simply gaze up at him, allowing him to pour cool water down your throat, quenching your bone-dry palate.

For a couple of seconds, water floods your mouth but all you can do is stare up at him. The light rays are reflecting off his back, casting a yellow glow around his silhouette and he almost looks like an angel. His hair is mussed as if he'd spent the day running his hands through the golden locks, and the scruff on his face peeks through soft-looking skin.

¨Swallow, or I'll really waterboard you this time,¨ he says lowly, chuckling a bit as he catches you staring so adamantly right in his face. You jerk back to consciousness and swallow hastily, accidentally choking on the gulp in your rush.

He laughs even more and lets go of your chin much to your disappointment as he adjusts himself to sit next to you, not seeming to mind the scorching car metal. The absence of his hand on your face leaves a cold, empty feeling in your heart despite the heated blush on your cheeks

¨You´ll burn yourself,¨ you mumble, lolling your head over to look at him.

But he looks straight ahead and shrugs casually. ¨Not any more than you.¨ You both sit in silence for a few minutes, occasionally sipping from the bottle he passes towards you and watching cars go by.

¨You didn't answer my question. Why do you harp on me in the studio? You act like a normal human being here.¨

Damon looks thoughtfully at a white sedan passing by, then speaks.

¨As I´m sure Graham has blabbed to you already, I´ve been having some...trouble with the missus, let's say.¨

You say nothing and raise a questioning eyebrow.

¨For the shitty attitude,¨ he mutters and swipes the bottle from your hand, taking a large swig himself.

¨And, like you said earlier, I am an asshole. Of course I´ll enjoy harassing pretty women over their revealing clothes,¨ he smirks and gives you a once over.

There it was again, pretty woman.

You scowl and get up to leave, but what he says stops you in your tracks.

¨Taz was lookin´ at you,¨ he says quietly, suddenly very interested in the now-empty bottle. ¨´Didn't like it, but I couldn't say anything to him. Graham likes him too much.¨

Huh. Maybe the pair of eyes you felt back in the room didn't only belong to Damon.

He cracks a small smile and looks up at you, his face adorably innocent and wide as he sheepishly admits, ¨I´m used to butting heads with blokes like him for women.¨

You jerk back up to your feet, brushing off any insinuation he was giving and pat his knee awkwardly, ignoring the fire now igniting once again in your chest.

¨Thanks for the water, I needed it. You might wanna move if you don't want to get run over by my car.¨ You reach down and pick up your case as Damon clambers to his feet.

He looks amused as you fumble for your keys, nervously turning the lock and sitting in the hot car, obviously eager to get away from his intimidating gaze.

¨I´ll see you next week, yeah?¨ You laugh breathlessly and roll your window down to call out to him.

He says nothing, but merely cocks his head at you, his eyes now obscured by the rose-colored glasses he puts over his eyes. He waves a little and watches as you drive away a little too fast.

But as it turns out, you don't see him next week.

******

It was just your luck that one of the cutest guys from your work asked you out on the very same week you had practice with the boys. You contemplated moving the date to another time, but...you deserved to have some fun time off too, right? It's not like it would make too much of a difference in your skill, anyways, you´ve gotten all the strings down and such.

So, you decide to go on this date. It goes well, the dude was cute, dorky, lacked a little pizzazz but nothing a bottle of fancy red wine and a night of movies couldn´t coax out of him. It honestly wasn't anything too big, you exchanged numbers and made plans to meet up again soon. After parting ways, you threw yourself back into the regular regime of practicing your violin and meticulously listening to the booth recording every night, just so you could perfect your part to a T.

The day came where you had to go back to practice, and you were ready, veins pumping with determination to make these last few sessions the best you´ve played yet. You texted Graham that you´d be there soon, and he gave you a thumbs up in return. When you finally arrived in front of the room, you were 10 minutes late. The boys were already playing, by the sound of the percussion booming outside the door. You grimace and take a deep breath, turning the handle in and hurrying inside the booth.

No one really spared a glance at you, so you assumed you were okay in terms of punctuality. You opened your case and started strumming your strings, counting the measures and beats until it was your turn. Damon´s voice rang out, melodious and airy as ever, dropping octaves and floating on soprano tones. Your bow moved across his words, accenting his tones and adding emphasis to his sorrowful song. And then, after a couple of minutes, it was done.

¨Alright you lot, pretty good for today. ´Specially you, Y/N, you caught up pretty quick, I expected you to slack behind but I'm actually impressed.¨ Graham flashed you a nervous grin and you beamed back at him in return.

¨Yeah, speaking of, why were you gone last week? I expected someone who makes below the poverty line would actually want to work for their money,¨ Damon chuckles a little meanly.

You feel your smile drop a smidge.

¨Well actually Damon, not that it's any of your business, but I went on a date.¨ You smirk at him, enjoying the way his mouth opens slightly and moves silently.

But he regroups quickly and glares at you. ¨None of my business? The deadline is only a few days away, and you´re whoring yourself out and going on dates? I guess you´re not as professional as Graham thought.¨

Everyone shifts uncomfortably, and blood rushes to your face, anger clouding your mind. Why was he being like this? He was fine the last time you saw him, you actually thought maybe he was going to change the way he addressed you.

Graham speaks up. ¨Damon. You´re overreacting man, I gave her the okay, and she played fine today. No harm done, seriously, there's no need for that kind of language towards her.¨

¨Actually, there absolutely is a need. If I knew you were going to invite a prostitute as our sub-in then I would´ve never agreed to have her here. Didn´t know you were so low on money Y/N, I would´ve spared you a couple pounds.¨ He sneers.

¨Damon!¨

You laugh bitterly and rise to your feet. ¨Oh that's rich, coming from the man who fucked half the continent just because he couldn't get over one girl. No wonder every real woman in your life including your wife wants to leave, nothing is ever good enough for you. Except heroin maybe.¨

The words leave your mouth before you can take them back, and there's a pin drop silence as if a bomb had been dropped. In a way, it kind of did.

Damo glares at you. Everyone is holding your breath, including you.

¨Get out.¨

¨Hey,-¨ Taz tries to gently interject but Damon throws the mic at him.

¨I said get the fuck out. You´re not practicing with us anymore, you can pack your shit and leave.¨

Tears brim at the corners of your eyes, and you choke out a small ¨Fine.¨

You hear Graham berating him behind you as you fly through the door, telling him that they need you, it's too late to change people, but the words jumble in your ears as the door slams shut. You don't hear what Damon says, if he even says anything, and you aren't interested in his comebacks right now.

It's only when you leave the car, tears streaming down your face in rage and embarrassment that you groan to yourself, your hands reaching an empty seat with one foot out the door-

You forgot your violin case.

************

It's nighttime.

The crickets chirp as you creep silently through the parking garage, the soft thud of your shoes echoing a lot louder than you wanted in the empty lot. The studio itself wasn't closed, but you were sure Damon must have informed the manager there not to let an ex-musician like you back in there.

Wearing a black hoodie and black pants was a smart move- you blended in with the shadows well. The doors weren't locked, and you hiss out a small ¨yesss¨ as you slip inside the mostly dark building. Needless to say, you were proud of yourself for navigating through the windings pitch-black hallways to your old booth.

Testing the handle lightly, you sigh out in relief when that too gives way. Unfortunately though, the second the door shuts behind you, you immediately stumble forward and fall.

The room is dark, darker than the other hallways so you can barely see your hands. The only source of light you´re granted is the dim red bulb on top of the booth door. And speaking of, that's exactly where you need to go...which proves to be harder when you keep bumping into random shit and cursing when you feel potential bruises forming on your shins.

Miraculously you stagger through the next door towards where you last sat, and blindly feel around the floor and chairs for your violin case. You feel nothing there, but panic starts settling in your heart when you can't find it.

¨Looking for something?¨

You scream and lurch backwards, knocking your head into some kind of stand. Groaning, you rub your head and hold a hand on your racing heart as you squint into the dim red room, placing the voice to the person.

¨D-Damon?¨

¨In the flesh sweetheart. ´Knew you'd come back for this, s´just my luck I came back to get it tonight so I could give it to you personally in case you wanted to be stubborn. But this is even better than I could´ve hoped.¨

You make out his silhouette in the obsidian abyss in front of you. He's sitting with knees spread on a chair, a few feet in front of you as he leans his head back on the wall. Your precious violin case is being held hostage in his arms, and it's the absolute love you have for the brittle instrument that propels you to your feet and moves you to get the hell out instead of interrogating him.

¨What, so you were just here the whole time listening to me falling around like an idiot?” You laugh incredulously, and you see the area of his shoulders move up and down.

¨Was pretty funny to watch, honestly. You sound cute when you curse.¨ He stands up to his fullest height now, the red light bouncing off his back, giving him a sort of demonic halo.

You knew it was actually time to leave when you felt those stupid butterflies in your stomach rise up again.

¨Right, well, I´ll be on my way then. Good luck with your song and whatever, I´ll just take the case...¨ You trail off as your extended hand is left in midair, no violin case reaching it.

He cocks his head at you. ¨Why are you in such a rush to leave?¨

You can´t help the scoff that escapes you.

¨Are you serious? You were such an absolute dickhead to me this afternoon, you said all sorts of horrible things to me, and you even fired me for Christ's sake! I want nothing to do with you, so could you please give me my case back so I can go?¨

He's silent for a moment before answering. ¨Are you done yet?¨

It isn´t just the light that's making you see red now.

¨Fuck you, honestly.¨ You whirl around and stomp towards where you guess the door is, ignoring the clatter behind you and bingo you locate the handle, but as soon as you turn it-

A hand reaches from behind you and pulls the ajar door shut.

¨Don´t go. I´m sorry.¨

You´re absolutely still as you feel him towering over you, his arm dangerously close to your midriff as his hand remains on the knob.

His voice is low, and you can feel him breathe against your neck, mere inches away. You can´t help the involuntary shiver that passes through you, and he feels it too, inhaling deeply when he gets close to your ear.

¨You smell so good.¨

¨Leave me alone, Damon,¨ you whisper, your voice catching in your throat from the overwhelming onslaught of emotions passing through you.

He breaths in and slowly lets his hand rest on your side.

¨I can't do that. You know why. You have to have known by now.¨

You tremble in his touch, yet allow his hands to wander down to your hip, the other coming around in a sort of hug to pull you closer to him.

¨We can´t.¨

¨Sure we can.¨

You can feel his erection bumping against your ass.

¨You´re not worth this.¨

¨I´ll make myself worth it.¨

And as soon as he latches onto the back of your neck, you´re like putty in his hands, a moaning mess as he sucks galaxy-colored hickies on your skin. You can feel yourself grow wetter as he shoves his hands up your shirt and teasingly pulls down the bridge of your bra, letting the weight of your tits fill up his hands appreciatively. He starts rolling your hardened buds in between his skilled calloused fingers, and you whine and throw your head back when you feel him rut against your ass, panting raggedly in your ear.

You rub your thighs together, desperate for some form of friction as he squeezes your tits, and then letting one hand ghost across the expanse of your stomach, down to brush against the rim of your panties. Damon chuckles meanly in your ear when you buck against the stilled hand over your mound.

¨You want this?¨ He lightly nips your ear. He smells like old spice and sandalwood.

You nod desperately, frustrated with him not giving you his thick fingers already.

But it's not enough for him. ¨No no, pretty girl, use your words now. I´ve barely touched you yet and you´re already moaning like a wanton little slut for me? And here I was thinking you weren't that easy.¨

You stop jerking your hips and blood rushes to your face at his insulting words. You try to move out of his grip, huffing and regretting the whole thing but he outright laughs now and spins you around, tugging you forward until your chest is slotted against his. You pout at him and look away, but he's quick to grasp your chin and pull you in for a rough yet sensual kiss.

Pushing you backwards against the wall, he deepens the lip-lock, tracing his tongue over your lips, nipping at the soft flesh and darkening his eyes when you whimper and look up at him.

He knows what he´s fucking doing when he again drops his hand under your pants and over your panties, his other palm wound up firmly through your hair. He pulls your head back and lets you breathe for a second from his kiss of death before he speaks again.

¨I didn't hear an answer, slut. Do you want this?¨ He leans forward until his nose brushes against your neck, flicking his tongue out to taste your saccharine flesh.

You tremble against his firm body when he pushes his pelvis against you, letting you feel how hard he is for you.

It doesn't matter anymore. Maybe he was right, maybe you were just an easy slut putting up a facade for him, but when his clothes erection grinds up against your pussy you can't care less.

¨Y-yes, yes, ´want you, please,¨ you pant, frantically gripping the back of his cropped hair as his head descends to mark your neck again.

¨What a good girl,¨ he whispers, finally allowing his digits to oh-so-slowly trace over your mound, pressing down harder when you jerk against him. He finds your wet clit and flicks it a few times, snickering when you gasp and moan. Your body writhes in place but he holds you literally between a rock-or, wall- and a hard place, preventing you from scampering off.

He drums his fingers against your folds, paying no attention to the way you grip his head tighter against you, silently begging him to go further.

But he relents eventually and retires from just pushing and prodding your folds, allowing his slicked fingers to slowly dive into your drooling hole. You whimper and bite back a string of curses when you feel him fill you completely, scraping against your walls for that one special spot.

His mouth moves off your neck and he rises to face you, a stupid smug grin on his wet lips, his eyelids lowered and trained on you. You flush at his lustful expression and gently push his head away, not wanting to accept his victory yet.

¨My fingers are literally fucking you right now, and you still won´t let me look at you? What, too embarrassed you couldn't continue being a stone-cold bitch for long?¨

You open your mouth to snap back but right at that moment he curls his fingers and grazes your G-spot, simultaneously grounding his wet palm against your clit.

With a loud gasp and the sluttiest moan you´ve ever made, you cum hard, your mouth open in a silent scream and your tongue hanging out like a bitch in heat as you do so. You fall forward against him.

You don't even need to look up to know that he has a shit-eating grin on his face.

¨What was that sweetheart? Sorry, ´couldn't hear you over those slutty moans. I think even the pornstars I´ve been with would give you a standing ovation if they heard what you just sounded like.¨

Your words are slurred as you curse nonsense at him, yet you´re still gripping his forearms to keep a hold on yourself. Your ears are ringing and you see spots as you come down from your climax, and surprisingly enough, Damon holds you close and doesn't let you slip down to the ground as you expected to when your knees start to give out.

Instead, he lifts you up quite easily and carries you over to a table in the corner of the room. You don´t know how he even navigates his way through the dimly lit room, but you suppose after almost half a lifetime in studios he knows his way around.

You offer no resistance as he sets you down gently and begins to lift your shirt off of your body. You manage to lift your arms weakly up in the air for easier access to stripping, but when he starts to kneel down to take your pants off you stop his hands at your knees and look at him with scrunched eyebrows.

He stops and looks up at you. His eyes aren't so darkened anymore, they´re wide and imploring, probably noticing your hesitation.

¨Damon, I...¨ You trail off as he maintains eye contact with you and slowly lowers his pursed lips to your calf, lightly pecking his way up to your knees and ensuring that you´re watching his every move.

Your breathing increases again as his pink appendage darts out, his saliva cooling on your exposed thighs. He sucks on the plush skin and turns his head upwards to face you.

You want to run your hands through his hair.

¨You have a wife,¨ You breathe.

¨Not for tonight I don´t.¨

Your voice gets caught in your throat at that. He positions his hands at the side of your knees, fingers curling around the hem of your pants in a second attempt.

¨Let me make you feel good, love.¨

His answer is in the form of your hand reaching for his collar and pulling him up into a standing position until he towers over your seated form, once again breath stolen in a heated kiss.

Damon fumbles with his zipper as you shove your pants off, fully ready for him now, your dampened panties solid evidence of your need for him.

He pulls his cock out and it bounces out, slapping up against his stomach.

You do a double take. The tabloids were right. He was absolutely huge.

It was disgusting almost, it was insulting really. How the fuck could he be that big? You lose count of how many inches he is when you start to get light headed, realizing with a jolt that he plans to put that monster inside you.

And fuck, why did it have to be so pretty too? Normally you wouldn´t use the word pretty to describe a dick, but fuck, that´s the only appropriate word that came to mind as you admired the white flesh as it mixed in with a dull pink flush turning into an angry shade of red as your eyes progressed up to his tip...which was soaked with precum, mind you.

He was neatly shaven everywhere, including his plush balls. No wonder he got to fuck half the continent.

Damon notices your gawking and smiles lazily, taking a fist around his prick and stroking lethargically up and down.

¨You gonna just stare at it all day or are you going to spread those cute legs for me?¨

Spoken like a true middle aged fuck-boyman.

You look up at him beseechingly, thoroughly intimidated by his length. He merely scoffs, winking at you when he wrenches your tightly closed knees apart.

It's almost like he falls into a trance when he presses his now-naked torso against your chest, when he slots himself between your legs and drags his tip through your sloppy folds and up onto your clit. His mouth falls open slightly and he moans when your juices coat his dick, making it slippery and easy to push the first few inches ever so slightly into your spasming cavern.

He can't help but want more, need more as he practically smothers his weight onto you, forcing you to lie back on the table and letting your legs dangle off the edge. He hunches over you and thrusts minutely into your pulsing folds, groaning when you whine and lace your fingers around his neck and tangle your legs around his back, dragging him impossibly close into you.

For a moment it´s just the sound of you two panting and moaning like inexperienced teenagers, and a zing of pride zips up your spine at the realization that Damon Albarn, one of the world's most renowned playboy is whining and humping against your pussy, reduced to nothing at your hands.

He takes your hands from around his neck and grips your wrists, forcing them above your head on the table. He leans down and kisses you, hard. You give him back the same energy when your hips move up and down along his length, pushing your inviting hole towards his eager and jumping dick.

¨Pretty little girl,¨ he murmurs against your lips, and you nip his bottom lip playfully in retaliation. He slowly starts to sink himself into you, and you practically purr at the feeling of his veiny member dragging against your sensitive walls until he stops.

You look at him questioningly, and blanch when you see the mischievous glint in his cobalt eyes.

¨I want you to count for me.¨

¨Count…?¨ You shake your head in confusion and he pulls out, making you groan in annoyance.

¨I want you to count every inch I put inside you. Unless your slutty mouth can't even do that? I'd be surprised if you couldn´t, you usually have so much shit to say.¨ His voice is low yet teasing, and a shiver passes through you when the rumble of his chest vibrates against your nipples.

¨F-fine, I´ll count.¨

He hums in approval and regroups, guiding his length into your awaiting pussy once again.

It´s almsot torture how slow he goes, and your toes curl at how vivid the sensation is at this pace.

You almost forget to do what he asks until he ducks his head down and teeths your bud.

¨Ah, fuck! One!¨ You yelp, writhing to get away from his lecherous gaze and hold on your poor tit.

He tuts and licks the swollen area until the pain subsides a bit, and then he continues to push.

¨T-two,¨ you moan and let your head fall back. It's unfair how tightly he´s holding your reins-you want him to plow you down, not take his sweet time in this punishment.

¨Damon, can´t you go any faster? Please, I want y-¨

¨-I didn't take you for a masochist, Y/N, but I´m happy to play around with these cute tits if you want to bitch more.¨

Your scowl is cut off when he suddenly shoves two more inches into you, and you mewl loudly at being filled so much.

¨Three! Four! Fuck, oh god, please,¨ you babble nonsense as he curses above you, his form shaking in an effort not to push all the way in.

¨Doing so good sweetheart, you´re almost halfway,¨ he smirks and you gape at him in disbelief.

Halfway?

Five, six, seven, eight, and nine go painfully slow, and by the time he´s fully sheathed inside you, plush balls pressed against your ass, you´re an incoherent, drooling mess.

Your hair is in your face, your cheeks are flushed, and your body bounces up and down as he begins to rock inside you, finally giving you what you want.

His name is chanted like an obscene prayer from your mouth as he grunts and shakes the table. Your legs are wobbly and unable to do anything except press him tighter against you to the point where he can barely move back. The skin of his stomach slaps against yours, his balls slap against the crevice of your ass, and your pussy practically sloshes with every stroke in and out.

He fists your hair with one hand and pulls your neck up to meet his searching lips, his other hand holds your wrists fast against the table. You want to touch him, you want to explore your body as he has conquered yours but he doesn't let you feel anything else apart from the rapid thrusts inside your battered body.

Damon switches positions and lifts the back of your knees up and pushes them forwards until they meet your chest. He lets his body weight rest on the back of your thighs as he pulls out and pushes back impossibly close inside you, closer than he did in missionary.

You sob with need as he plunges into you and reaches a higher spot than before, his tip grazing your cervix. He pounds into you, and you thrust your hips up to fuck back into him, calling out his name as if he were your god.

It´s a good thing the rooms are soundproof.

You feel your second climax comes when he paves way through your tight walls and batters your uterus. It doesn´t hurt so much as feel intense, and your choked moans become panting gasps when he brings a hand down to swirl his thumb over your aching clit.

¨You´re not going to meet with that prick from your work again, yeah? Say it. Say it if you want me to let you cum.¨ He could have been speaking an alien language for all you knew. Your poor addled brain didn't pick up anything except for the word ¨cum¨, and you were a goner.

¨Yes, yes, anything you say, anything you want, just please let me-¨

And oh he does.

It comes over you like a tidal wave, your mind going blank, your eyes seeing white as your legs shake from your earth-shattering orgasm. You feel like you´re going down a rollercoaster, and you never want to stop dropping.

Distantly, you hear him groan and say your name. You can feel pulsing in your filled walls, with what you assume is his ropes of cum. It feels like when you came, it practically squeezed all his cum out with your clenching.

He lets out a shaky breath and falls forward, his nose inches from yours, his breath puffing in your face.

Your eyes are glazed over, but you´ve never seen anything more clearly before.

Maybe Damon Albarn really was worth it.

#blur #damon x reader #damon albarn #damon albarn smut #britpop #90s damon #90s #smut #fluff #britpop smut #damon fluff #Damon Albarn #damon albarn x reader #Damon albarn smut #Damon albarn fanfic #Damon albarn fanfiction #blur fanfic #blur fanfiction

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wiypt-writes · 4 years

Text

Riding On

Ch 8- Buns (And Cookies) In The Oven

Summary: Frank and Fliss attend Mary’s end of year fundraising gala at school, the Nursery is finally finished and plans are made regarding Mary’s adoption.

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut (NSFW, NO UNDER 18s!).

Pairing: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: LONG update here guys but a lot happens! First off, please bear with me if the legal terms are a little off- from my research they seem to be similar to the UK ones but if I get some things wrong…just go with it! Also the photo I used for the Nursery inspiration was found in another fic on Tumblr- I can’t for the life of me remember which one. I did, however, ages ago ask permission so if you recognise it that’s why.

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 7

“You braved the outhouse yet?” Bill asked as he skimmed that last bit of the wall he had been working on, the trowel he was holding sliding in a large arc, spreading the plaster evenly.

“Had a brief glance but there’s all sorts of shit in there.” Frank said, dropping his tools onto the dust sheet as he stood back to admire their work. “Some larger pieces of wood and a few engine parts I had spotted that might come in handy but other than that think it’s all for the dump.”

“We can hit that this weekend if you want?” Bill added, hopping down from the step ladders.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind helping?” Frank looked at him and Bill shook his head. “No problem.” He said. “Still thinking about getting a boat?”

Frank gave a smile “I thought about getting one and doing it up. The garage is big enough to use as a workshop." "Well it’s good to have a hobby.” Bill nodded.

“Plus if I get one it will stop Lissy converting it into stables.” Frank said, looking around the room again. “She still wanting to expand?” Bill asked.

“Yeah, she’s talking about buying more of the land that surrounds the yard but…” Frank scratched at his chest “I told her to wait until Bean is here.”

“Good plan.” Bill smiled, before he turned to Frank “Speaking of Boston Bean, any ideas on names?”

Frank smiled “We had a few but we need to give it some proper thought. Mary wants us to call him Theodore.” “Theodore?” Bill arched an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Teddy for short. Something she saw on TV.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s not going on the list, trust me.”

The two of them cleared away their tools, tipped the pots of water down the sink in the main bathroom before Frank quickly cleaned up after himself, heading back into the nursery where Bill was taking a look at a patch on the wall. Deciding it was ok he turned and nodded and the two men made their way downstairs and into the main area at the back of the house.

Frank opened the door to their kitchen living area and the smell of baking hit the pair of them immediately, but it was the view that made Frank stop in the doorway. Mary was stood on a chair at the kitchen counter, mixing something in a bowl. To her left Verity was supervising, nodding when Mary showed her whatever it was she was mixing, and to Mary's right, Fliss was wiping the surface down, one hand resting on her belly. It was the sight of his girl stood there, in that gorgeous blue and white checked sundress, all barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, with her mother and Mary that had him feeling suddenly quite emotional. Mary giggled and looked at Fliss who smiled at her, reaching out and brushing her cheek with the back of her fingers. Nanna, Mom and Daughter, a matriarchal trio Frank never imagined he would ever get to see Mary part of. And it was beautiful. "You OK lad?" Bill looked at him and Frank blinked and turned to face him, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Yeah, sorry. Was miles away" "I noticed." His future father in law smiled softly, squeezing his shoulder before he loudly asked if there was any chance of beer before he died of thirst. "You know where the fridge is." Fliss shot back. "I just spent all afternoon with Frank plastering the walls in that Nursery and that's the thanks I get?" Bill shook his head as Frank chuckled and walked to the fridge. He opened it, grabbed 2 beers and once he popped the tops off he passed one to Bill. "All finished?" Fliss turned to look at Frank as he gave her a soft peck on the lips. "Yeah." He smiled as she rubbed her hands up his arms to his shoulders "Once its dried out which should take a day or so we can paint." Flies smiled and was about to say something when they heard Mary and Verity yelling, their shouts punctuated by Bill's loud guffaws as he jumped back, a freshly baked cookie in his hand as he ran away from Verity who was swatting at him with the tea towel. "There's like a hundred of them!" Bill sniggered shoving the cookie into his mouth. "You can spare one." "We actually made extra." Mary looked at him, hands on her hips "Because Fliss and Nanny V said you and Frank would both walk in and rob some." Frank looked at Fliss, his eyebrow raising as she grinned before he glanced at Mary who smirked back. "Well in that case..." he mumbled before he grabbed Mary easily, hooking the arm that held his beer round her midriff, swinging her off the chair as he snatched a cookie with the other, taking a huge bite. Mary's giggles died down as he set her on the floor and made an appreciative noise. "These are good." "You sound surprised Francis..." Verity pointed the wooden spoon she was holding at him and he shook his head. "You know what I think of your cooking V..." he flashed her a wink and she rolled her eyes and turned back to whatever it was in the bowl. "OK Mary, this frosting is ready so you wanna do the cupcakes?" She nodded and the two of them moved, Verity handing Mary a little spatula so she could start to dish out the yellow frosting. "Shall I ring through to The Shack and order us a burger each?" Frank asked, and everyone made appreciative noises. Already knowing his, Mary and Fliss' order by heart, he ordered what Bill and Verity wanted before the two men strode out to Bill's car to pick up their food.

“You sure you’re alright, Frank?” Bill asked, and he turned to him, smiling.

“Yeah, honestly I’m fine.” Frank smiled. Bill looked at him before he turned his head back to the road.

“It’s overwhelming isn’t it.” The older man said gently and Frank looked at his hand, shaking his head as he gave a soft laugh.

“You can say that again.” He said “Doesn’t seem five minutes since our first date and here we are. Our own home, weeks away from our baby being born and me taking a weeks’ worth of annual leave to finish the decorating.” “You’ve done it once.” Bill said gently. “The baby thing I mean, not the decorating…although we did do that once too…”

Frank chuckled before he took a deep breath “Not like this.” Frank shook his head “Never done the first 6 months. Not really. I mean I helped Diane but…” “Well you got us to help out.” Bill spoke again, taking a right turn “I know Verity can’t wait. Another grandkid for her to spoil.” “I do appreciate everything you’ve both done for us Bill.” Frank looked at him. “I mean the money, helping out with the decorating, everything you do for Mary.”

“I know son.” Bill smiled, “And it’s our pleasure.” Frank smiled and looked back out of the window.

“What else is on your mind?” Bill probed gently and Frank looked at him, giving a little scoff.

“You’re just like Fliss.” He said with a chuckle and Bill grinned.

“Well you’ve been a little quiet all afternoon.” Bill said.

Frank studied him for a moment, and then realised that he actually had a perfect opportunity here to talk to someone who had been through something a little similar to what he was struggling with. And he trusted and loved Bill, like a father.

“We had an incident with Mary, last week at school.” He took a deep breath he explained to Bill what had happened and the decision he and Fliss had come to about the adoption. “We were planning on asking her at some point but…well, the time hasn’t bene right you know. We don’t want her to think it’s a reaction to what happened at school.” Bill looked at him before he slowed the car to a halt at a red light. “That makes sense.” He said gently “But I’m getting the impression you’re not so sure.” “It’s not that I’m unsure as such…” Frank sighed, “I just…Oh I don’t know Bill, the whole thing just seems so fucking shitty and complicated. How did you know it was the right thing to do? With Fliss and Steve I mean?”

“I just did.” Bill shrugged. “Our circumstances were slightly different thought. I met V when Fliss was 2. Steve's mother, my first wife, Andrea, she died when Steve was 3. Brain tumour. I never thought I'd love anyone again but then when I met Verity one evening 2 years later through friends she blew me away.” Bill smiled and Frank watched as his face went softer before he continued “We dated for 3 months before we met each other’s kids and the first time I saw Lissy she was fast asleep in the car seat in the back of Vs battered old fiesta and...” Bill sighed “I loved her from the minute I laid eyes on her. So did Steve.”

He set the car into drive again and they continued down the road as Bill spoke again.

“She started calling me dad on her 4th birthday. I’d been with V just over 2 years then and it was at her birthday party and we told her to make a wish. She blew her candles out and then later that night I was tucking her in and she said to me that she knew she wasn’t supposed to tell anyone what her wish was, but if she didn’t tell me then it wouldn’t come true.”

To Frank’s surprise the man’s eyes misted over and his voice became a little bit croaky.

“She’d made a wish that she was my daughter.” Bill shook his head “That she wanted to call me dad. So I told her I didn’t have a problem with that as long as she didn’t and…” he smiled “But I get that your situation is different. Fliss’ shitbag father walked out on Verity before Fliss was even born. You’ve got a whole other scenario you’re dealing with.” “Mary told me months ago she wishes I was her real dad.” Franks sighed “You know I explained to her that a label doesn’t matter and then the whole thing with the kid at school kicked it off again and she broke her heart to Lissy that evening. It got me thinking that I’d bene so wrapped up in my own worries about Diane and whether it would be right to allow Mary to refer to me as her dad that I hadn’t really given much consideration about how my refusal to do so was affecting her.” Bill pondered something for a moment. “You know I had the same concerns over Steve. I know that sounds hypocritical because I was over the moon when Lissy first called me dad but, well Steve was

3 when his mum died and had a few vague memories of her. I was worried that by letting him refer to V as his mum those memories would fade and it would in some ways disrespect her, you know? Almost like it would invalidate who she had been.”

“But you did it anyway?” Frank asked.

“With Steve it just happened.” Bill said, “He started naturally slipping into calling Verity Mum, and we just decided not to make a big deal out of it and let him do what he felt was right for him. Even now he alternates sometimes, calls her Verity instead of mum but I know it doesn’t change a thing. He loves her like she is his mother, and she loves him like he’s her son, which he is anyway of course as she adopted him too.” “And that felt right?”

Bill nodded “It did to us, but the most important thing was it did to Steve and Fiss too. So we floated the idea a year or so before we got married. Fliss...well she had no reservations at all. Burst into tears and hugged me saying she couldn't wait for me to be her proper dad and have the same surname but Steve was a little more subdued, I suppose, is the word. We assured him if he didn't want V to then she wouldn't be offended. He took his time to think about it. Came to his conclusion a week or so later and announced over dinner he wanted to do it. So that was that.” Bill pulled up outside the shack and cut the engine, turning to Frank. “I guess what I'm trying to say is Mary will let you know if she's not happy. From the sounds of it I don't think you'll have any problems, but the important thing is like Titch said, you give her the choice...” “I know.” Frank nodded, “Liss and I discussed this. I don't want to make her call us mom and dad either it she doesn’t want to. To be honest, I'm still not 100% sure how I feel about that but I suppose if we do adopt her then…” “You still worried about how it would make your sister feel?” “A little.” Frank smiled softly. “I'm sure she would be happy Frank.” Bill said gently “This is the same internal debate I had about Ange. But you have to remember, she left that little girl with you for a reason. If you ask me, the very fact we're having this conversation proves she was right. I think this is exactly why she chose you, because she knew that whatever decisions you make regarding Mary are done with love and care, and this is the best outcome she could have hoped for.”

Frank felt the lump in his throat again and Bill gently reached over and grabbed his shoulder.

“Thanks Bill.” Frank smiled at him.

“Any time, now let’s go get this food, I’m starving.”

It wasn’t long before they were all sat outside back at home, eating happily as Mary filled them all in on what she was going to be doing at the gala the next day. Frank watched her, smiling to himself at how excited she was. Such a contrast to the sullen, obstinate 7 year old that he’d had argument over argument with about going to school. But then again their entire circumstances had changed, dramatically, and for the better he may add.

His heart to heart with Bill had made him feel a little more at peace with everything. If truth be told, since Mary’s little breakdown last week he’d been worried about a lot of things. Worried he was making a mess of things with her, worried he was going to do the same with Bean. But he realised now he wasn’t doing it on his own anymore. He had Fliss and her family to help him, and even his Mother too if he so required. Whatever bump in the road the encountered in the future then they would face it as a family, and this eased that nagging, gnawing anxious feeling a hell of a lot.

At just before 8 Mary was dismissed to bed, despite protests, and a little after 10pm Bill and Verity also decided to head home. Frank thanked them both for their help, Verity for giving up her entire afternoon by shopping, picking up Mary and then baking enough treats to feed a small army, an Bill…well, for just about everything he’d done that day.

They stood on the porch area of their home, waving the two of them off and Fliss turned to Frank.

“I can almost hear your mind whirring from here, Sailor.”

Frank chuckled as Thor headed back up the path, having given up chasing the car down the drive. “Yeah, I had a moment before. But your dad set me straight.” “Moment? About Mary or-“ “To be honest about everything.” Frank looked at her as they headed back inside, closing the door “Mary, Bean, about not fucking everything up.” Fliss looked at him before she shook her head “Baby that’s not gonna happen.” “I know.” He smiled “I just had my worries, that’s all.” “You don’t think I worry at times too?” she asked him gently “I’m fucking petrified about him arriving and how I’m gonna cope with a baby but…” she stepped forward and took his hands “I know that as long as we stick together an work through whatever we face together, we’ll be fine.” “Yeah, we will.” He smiled, bending down to give her a soft kiss. “Wanna sit outside?”

She nodded and together, Thor padding behind, they made their way out to the back garden. Fliss dropped heavily onto the wicker garden sofa and Frank lifted her feet up setting them in his lap. He expertly ran his thumb up the arch of her right foot and she gave a little groan of satisfaction.

“Back still sore?” he asked glancing over at her and she shrugged a little.

“A little, nothing major though.” She sighed “I’d kill to get in the hot tub though, unwind a little. So not fair I can’t.” “There’s always the pool.” Frank suggested and she looked at him.

“How is going in the pool going to help me unwind?” she looked at him and he grinned, arching an eyebrow.

“You’re a bad, bad man.” She snorted as she swung her legs off his lap and moved to straddle him.

“And?” he smirked as his hands ran up the side of her thighs, creeping under the hem of her dress which had ridden up.

“Just pointing it out.” she grinned, leaning down to kiss him. His hands came to a rest on her hips, squeezing gently as his mouth moved from hers to find that spot just below her ear. With a sigh, Fliss tilted her head back as he continued to nibble gently at her skin, her fingers tangling in his hair. She gave a soft pull, tugging his head back so she could kiss him again, pushing down on his lap as he thrust his hips up to meet her, the pair of them giving a little groan at the contact. And that was it. Hormones raging, sending a fire through her entire body, Fliss stood up, slipped off her panties and then reached to Frank’s jeans, undoing the button.

“Ok, so no foreplay then?” he asked as he lifted his hips so she could slide his jeans and boxers down, his already hard cock springing free.

“Less talking, more fucking…” she reached down, wrapping her hand around him. Frank let out a hiss as she gave him a few tugs before she straddled him and lining him up sunk straight down, letting out a groan as he tilted his pelvis upwards, filling her as he bottomed out.

“Fuck, Lissy…” his voice was gravelly, his head falling back against the rear cushions of the garden furniture, hands on her hips as she rolled them forward, finding a rhythm that was soft, deep and perfect for the quiet, late summer evening.

Despite the fact they were outside and Fliss’ earlier demand, there was no rush to any of their love making. It was slow, gentle and sweet. Frank’s thrust’s upwards weren’t measured, he hardly put much effort into moving, keeping in synch with the rolls of her pelvis, rocking them together as Fliss leaned over, capturing his mouth again. The gentle breeze from the night air ruffled through her hair whipping it around her face and Frank moved his hands, brushing it away as he cradled her face, his nose brushing against hers. After a particularly deep push upwards Fliss let out a shaky moan into his mouth, tightening her fingers in his hair as she felt him striking her spot again and again. Her bump was causing her to lean forward slightly, which meant he was hitting her as deep as he possibly could and the feeling was intense, her toes curling slightly as she could feel the heat in her belly burning, the slick from between her legs rubbing off on his thighs slightly which was driving Frank wild.

“So wet baby girl…” he mumbled as she slid a hand between her legs, his fingers gently teasing her clit.

“Who needs a pool?” she manged to quip between her gasps, and Frank smirked a little, watching her face intently as her eyes locked onto his. His fingers never once quickened, his touches light and teasing, and their pace continued on to that very end, until with a breathy gasp and a shudder it became too much and she surrendered to the inevitable bliss that washed over her entire body as she came hard. Her hips stilled and Frank moved his hands back to her hips, pulling her down onto him as he bucked upwards, his thrusts now quickening as he chased his own end, spilling into her with a loud groan before his eyes flickered shut, his head falling backwards.

Fliss leaned forward, peppering soft kisses up his neck to his jawline and he let out a smile as she dropped her mouth on his, biting his bottom lip softly his hands rubbing at the base of her back.

“How was that for un-winding?” he asked, opening his eyes to see her smiling at him. She bit her lip and smiled, kissing him again.

****** “Where do you want all these?” Fliss asked Bonnie as her and Frank walked across the school yard, Frank’s arms laden with the various boxes of baked goods.

“How much did you bake?” Bonnie snorted as Frank set them down on the wooden tables that Bonnie indicated

“My mum does nothing by halves” Fliss smirked as she glanced around. Mary was stood showing Frank something on a chalk a-board, Rosie interjecting here and there.

“Hey Stack.” Fliss stepped over to her “All set?”

“Yeah we were just working out the pricing and what best to charge if we wanna make a certain percent profit.” Mary said.

“You suss it?” Frank asked, “Although that’s a stupid question…” “Yeah, it is.” Mary shot back, causing Frank to smirk a little as he glanced at Fliss “Bo-I mean miss Stevens we thought a dollar a cookie, or 3 for 2 and then 2 dollars a cupcake or brownie, and 3 for 5” “I think that’s fair.” Bonnie nodded.

“Ok, cool… “ Mary grinned standing the board up and giving Rosie a high five.

Bonnie and Fliss helped set up the cakes on the stall and Frank found himself getting roped into helping one of the male teachers set up the field where a few events and fun races were going to take place, the man thanking him profoundly when he headed over, spotting him struggling to set the soccer nets up.

“We had someone due to help but…well, most parents shy away from this stuff.” He sighed “They want their kids to enjoy and experience it but don’t wanna help us out.” Frank smiled “Well, to be honest I’m happy to be here. This is the first one Mary’s taken part in.”

The teacher smiled “Yes, she was a bit of an enigma when she started but she’s come out of her shell recently. Lovely girl too Mr Adler, always polite. You must be very proud.”

Frank beamed and turned back to where Mary was behind the stall, Fliss talking to her with Bonnie and Rosie both listening and nodding before he turned back to the man and smiled “It’s not all down to me but…yeah, yeah I am.”

Hour or so later more people had arrived and Frank and Fliss wandered around a bit. They chatted to Rosie’s mom and dad, a dark haired, bespectacled man called Phil and a smaller, red haired woman called Melissa, and the couple invited them over for dinner in a week or so which they both accepted. Whilst Mary and Rosie were close, Frank’s interaction with her parents had been minimal simply because Fliss had fallen into that role of being the one that set up the girls’ little togethers, and he was keen to get to know the couple simply because Mary seemed to be taken so much with their kid. They were inseparable at school, and Mary had already said that over the summer she wanted Rosie to come for a sleep over which, given her previous position on such things had knocked Frank for 6. Of course they had said it was ok, and Fliss had simply told her that Rosie was welcome at any time over the holidays, even saying she’d arrange for them to do something with one of the riding school ponies.

As Frank was mid conversation with Phil about a boat he was currently repairing, Fliss excused herself to go to the toilet. On the way back she decided to detour to the cake stall to see how Mary, Bonnie and Rosie were getting along, and as she passed 2 women stood a little way away, deep in conversation, she heard something that stopped her in her tracks.

“Child prodigy, apparently.” One of the women was saying.

“Well whichever way you dress it up I feel sorry for her.” The other sniffed, flicking her blonde hair behind her shoulder, the ridiculous sized ring on her left hand catching the sun as she did so “I mean, her Dad, sorry, Uncle is a total fuck boy and only went and got his new girlfriend pregnant a year or so after they got together…no wonder the kid’s apparently a screw up. Did you know a when she first started here she broke a boy’s nose?”

“Excuse me?” Fliss blurted out, her neck and cheeks flushed with anger. Both women spun to face her, the blonde one looking at her “Who the fuck are you calling a screw up?”

“Erm, private conversation…” The woman looked at her and Fliss snorted

“Yeah well maybe you should keep your shitty opinions to yourself, just in-case that Fuck Boy’s pregnant fiancée overhears you.” She shot back, and the woman’s face slipped a little as she suddenly realised who Fliss was. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

Frank, meanwhile, had finished up talking to Rosie’s parents and was now looking around for Fliss. He spotted her pale green maxi dress in the crowd as she stood talking to two women, and then frowned as he realised she wasn’t talking as much as angrily ranting, her hands flying out to her side before she pointed at one of them directly. He had no idea what the fuck had sparked her off, but he jogged quickly over, catching the end of the rant.

“I don’t see any of your kids going to university 2 days a week or being asked to run a stall handling money because they can do sums in their head like that.” Fliss snarled, clicking her fingers “So keep your shitty, horrible comments about my family to yourself.”

“Hey, hey…” Frank gently grabbed her arm. “Honey…come on.” “You know nothing about us. Any of us.” Fliss shot at her as Frank looked at the women, realising instantly he recognised one. With a groan he moved himself in front of Fliss his back to them and looked at her.

“Stop.” He said firmly but calmly and she looked at him, her eyes blazing with an anger he had never seen before. “Come on.”

She shot a glare at the women before she turned and allowed him to steer her away. He dropped an arm round her shoulder and gave her a squeeze “What the hell set you off into momma bear mode?”

“Her!” Fliss seethed as she shot a final glare over her shoulder at the bitch "She was making shitty comments about you getting me pregnant and saying it was no wonder Mary was a screw up…I mean who the fuck does she think she? I swear to god if I wasn’t pregnant I’d kick her ass." "Don't let her get to you honey." Frank said softly, kissing her temple.

“Does it not bother you?” “Only because it’s got you so wound up. I’m not going to let the opinions of two Stepford Wives bother me. They clearly have no idea what they’re talking about.” "Bet she's called Karen." Fliss spat. "Carly, actually." Frank replied without thinking and Fliss stopped to look at him. "How the hell do you-" she groaned "tell me you haven't!" "It was a drunk night a very long time ago!" He began to protest and Fliss shook her head making a noise of disgust.

“Well suddenly that makes a little more sense.” She said, before she snorted "Is there anyone in this State you haven't shagged?" "I love it when you swear in British." He grinned before sighing as his attempts at humour fell flat. "Oh Lissy come on...it was years ago. I was a total fuck up till I met you." "Was she married back then?" "I don't know!" He shrugged "not exactly a great topic for pillow talk is it?" "You're disgusting." She rolled her eyes before she stepped away from him and headed over the stall that had been or original destination, leaving Frank wondering what the fuck just happened. With a sigh he followed her over and smiled at Verity who had just arrived with Bill, who was at that moment teasing Mary, trying to haggle with her over the price of the Brownies.

“Hey…” he tugged on Fliss’ elbow “Are you seriously pissed at me?” She looked at him, pushing her shades up off her eyes “I just don’t like being reminded of your Four F stage.” “My what?” he looked at her, blankly. He had no idea what she was talking about.

“The Friday Fergs Fuckboi Frank stage” And at that Frank snorted, shaking his head.

“Ok, well, I can categorically tell you that now I’m in a double F stage.” “What?” it was her turn to look puzzled.

“Yeah, the Fliss’ Frank stage” He flashed her a cheeky grin and she blinked before she snorted and shook her head.

“I hate you.” She mumbled as he pulled her in for a hug, giving her head a quick kiss, the chuckles vibrating from his body to hers.

*****

The rest of the week passed fairly uneventfully. Mary broke up for summer on the Friday and Frank finished the painting and the wallpapering in the attic. On the Saturday he got 3 out of 4 of the walls in the Nursey painted, leaving just the feature one for Sunday, which he was ridiculously excited about. However, his plans of an early start were derailed when he slept in a little later than he had anticipated. Fliss was still out for the count when he climbed out of bed, and he dressed as quietly as he could, dropping a kiss to her cheek before he headed down to the kitchen and was joined by Mary a few minutes later. For whatever reasons she was in a particularly raucous mood, probably because she had realised she didn’t have to go to school on Monday, bouncing around the kitchen telling Frank loudly what she was going to do that afternoon which involved riding Monty and swimming in the pool until it went dark. Then, apparently she was going to watch a load of movies and stay up all night…Frank didn’t bother to tell her there was no chance, as both he and Fliss still had to go to work. As with the previous Summer, Roberta was looking after her Monday to Wednesday, and Verity and Bill had her on Thursday and Friday, which meant she was basically going to be up the same time as normal every day so he could drop her off.

However, that was an argument for later. Right now he was simply trying to get her to calm down.

“Mary, for the last time, be quiet!” Frank groaned “Fliss is still asleep.”

“But it’s almost 10 am.” Mary whined.

“It’s Sunday and she’s cooking another person, she can sleep however long she wants” he replied “Now come on, we got painting to do.”

Mary looked at him and let out a groan. “I’m 9. Making me paint this house is child labour”

“You wanted to help with the nursery.”

Mary glared at him “He ain’t even gonna be here for another like 7 weeks or whatever.”

“Yeah, and the rate you’re going it’s gonna take us that long to sort it. Come on it’s the last wall.” He cajoled as she bit into her toast “We did your room first, then the attic. I even let you pick that horse wall paper for up there.” Mary shoved the last of her toast in her mouth and hopped down off the stool “Fine…” she said with an exaggerated eye roll. “I’ll go change into my painting stuff.” He watched her go, tossing the crust from his toast to Thor who caught it expertly, before he headed upstairs. Fliss wandered out of the bedroom and onto the landing, still in her sleep set, yawning.

“Hey…” she smiled at him and he beamed back as she shuffled to him for a hug.

“Did Mary wake you?” he asked and Fliss shook her head.

“No, I was just dozing.” .

“Ok, well we’re finish painting the nursery.” He smiled and she pulled back grinning. “Want me to get you breakfast first?” “I’m good.” She smiled “I’ll sort myself out and then come help”

Pressing a kiss to her head he stepped back and watched as she headed down the stairs before he walked into the Nursery, joined shortly by Mary. All bar one of the walls were painted a cream colour, and he checked the paint for patches, happy that it looked ok before he looked pulled the print out of the theme they’d looked at on Pinterest and handed it to Mary once he’d taken a look at it. Grabbing the stepladders he set about marking squares out on the wall where the crib was going to lie against with tape. Then with a pencil he supervised as Mary checked the photo and wrote a letter in each square to signal what colour they were going to be painted to make a block pattern of different greens, browns and blue.

Once the squares were marked out he handed Mary a paint brush and told her to keep between the lines. He knew he might have to go over a few patches on the areas she did, but even that was quicker than him doing it all himself and it was important to both of them she felt involved, even if it was under duress.

Half an hour or so later Fliss joined them and the 3 of them finished the wall in little over 2 hours, standing back to admire their handy work. Fliss beamed as Mary nodded in satisfaction.

“Can I go see Monty now?” she asked.

“Yeah, we’ll head over.” Fliss nodded.

“I’ll get the furniture up whilst you’re gone.” Frank smiled.

“Sure you can manage?” Fliss teased. “We’re supposed to be at my mum and dad’s in 4 hours.”

Frank shot her a look and she grinned cheekily before she headed out of the room to change into her stable gear.

With the radio on, Frank unwrapped the packaging to the crib and got to work, humming gently to himself as he powered through, following the instructions. It was fairly easy all things considered, and he had the crib fully assembled and in position in 45 minutes. Smiling to himself the chest of drawers were next, then the little wardrobe and the changing unit. Then he fixed the blind to the window and added the stencil he’d bought over the top. All in all it took him just under 2 hours until he jumped down from the little step ladder and looked around.

Now it looked like a nursery.

He took the cardboard boxes and wrap down to the garage and slung them on the pile of other garbage that needed slinging during the week and then back into the nursery, removing the dust sheets from the new carpet and then he set about unpacking the various bags and items of things they’d bought for bean. He placed the blankets in the crib, the lamp on the table, shuffled the rocking chair around and then stepped back to admire his work.

“Oh my God…” He jumped a little and turned to see Fliss blinking. He’d been that wrapped up in everything he hadn’t heard her come in.

“Frank, you did everything...”

“I’m sorry.” He blurted out, cursing himself. “I got carried away. I didn’t think. Did you want to do the accessories or…” “No, I mean yeah, but…” she shook her head, stepping into the room “It doesn’t matter. Sailor, it looks great!” She slid her arm round his waist as he dropped a kiss to her head, her eyes scanning the room. She stopped and frowned at the stencil above the window blind. Frank swallowed a little nervously, that was one thing she hadn’t seen before. He watched her profile as she read the cursive writing, which spelt out the words ‘All because two people fell in love’, and she turned to look up at him, tears in her eyes.

“Oh, Frankie…”

He smiled at her, his own eyes threatening to fill up again as he pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “It’s true.”

She turned back round to look once more at the room, her hand falling to her bump as they simply looked around the bedroom that would soon enough house their little baby boy.

“It’s perfect.” Fliss said, and Frank smiled, his arms wrapping around her from behind, his hands cupping her bump as he pressed a soft kiss to her neck.

After the usual Sunday roast Verity’s which was filled with the normal laughter, teasing and also some cooing from Verity over the photos of the nursery which Fliss had taken they headed home and after breaking the news to Mary that she was up early, which resulted in a mini- melt down until Frank threatened to send Monty to the dog-food factory if she didn’t stop right away.

“Whatever Frank, Fliss will never let you do that.” She glared at him, hands on her hips.

“Fliss won’t have a say in the matter.” He shot back, “Bed, now Mary. Don’t make me count to three.” “You know, I really don’t like you right now.” She glared at him.

“Well that suits me fine, because right now I’m not your biggest fan either.”

With a filthy look she turned on her heels, stomping from the room and muttering something under her breath, from which Frank made out the words Uncle and douchebag.

“I might be getting older but I can still HEAR YOU!” he yelled after her.

“GOOD!” came the shout back before the stairs thudded under her feet and her bedroom door slammed shut.

Frank exhaled, ran a hand through his hair and then checked all the doors were locked before he headed upstairs. “What was all that about?” Fliss asked as she emerged from the en-suite dressed for bed.

“Her being a pain in the ass about going to bed.” He grumbled, face planting onto the bed with a groan “Do we really want another one?”

“Too late for that now Sailor.” She chuckled. “She called me a douchebag.” He said, rolling over onto his back and Fliss let out a laugh.

“No comment.” “Hey.” He pouted, a hurt expression on his face. Fliss stuck her tongue out at him before he sat up with a heave and stripped off ready for bed.

They lay awake for a couple of hours, chatting, and talk turned to baby names after Bill had teased them over dinner that they still hadn’t decided on one. They had discounted a few, but had yet to settle on any that really grabbed their attention.

"What about Max?" Frank asked. He raised his head from where he was led, nose pressed against the curve of Fliss' belly as his hand gently tracked the movements his son was making. Boston Bean was being fairly active considering it was past 11. Fliss, who was sat propped up by a mound of pillows against the headboard looked down at him, her hand pausing where it has been raking through his now very fluffy hair and she wrinkled her nose. "Mmm not keen" she mumbled. "Although I like the X. The way it melts into Adler." Frank blinked before he snorted and Fliss laughed "God you talk some shit" he chuckled and she swatted at his head as he moved back to where he had been before, nose brushing her skin. "Benjamin..." he offered again, "Benjamin Billy. Then we can keep calling him BB" "That's actually kinda cute." Fliss said. "And its after my dad, although he's William." "William." Frank rolled the name around a little "I like that." "Could be a middle name." Fliss said "I don't really like Will, which is what it will no doubt end up shortened to and Bill...no, that's dad. And an old man's name" "I'll tell him you said that." Frank smiled and she shrugged. "I tell him he is an old git all the time" she retorted. Frank's hand stopped as Bean gave a particularly harsh kick and Fliss jumped a little. "Jesus..." she groaned. "Looks like we got a future footballer on our hands. You gonna be the next Tom Brady huh buddy?" Frank chuckled talking to her bump before he stilled "hey, what about-" "No." Fliss said, shutting that suggestion down immediately "We are not calling him Tom or Brady. Besides, that abomination you refer to is not football..." "Excuse me." Frank scoffed "It’s better than that damned shit you Brits play! Soccer." He muttered the word, shaking his head. "No, THAT’S football!" Fliss said indignantly. "Soccer" "Football!" Fliss repeated "it's a ball you kick with your foot! We invented it, we named it!" "Okay, okay!" Frank chuckled "Calm down before you go into labour!" She swatted playfully at his head as she grinned. "You know I would have loved you to have met my granddad and had this debate with him. He'd be spinning in his grave if he could hear us. You know he was actually a professional at one point?" "No kidding?" Frank askes and Fliss gave a hum. "Way before I met him, obviously" Fliss sighed "he played right back for Preston North End but had to retire early when he broke his leg. Never recovered from the injury. Dad said he had a pretty mean right peg on him. I mean leg..." she corrected her slang. "He was their designated Penalty taker. In the 10 years he played he took 60 penalties and missed a total of 2" "That's pretty cool." Frank admitted. "OK, so maybe if he grows up playing soccer that wouldn't be so bad..." "Alex Gallagher." Fliss chuckled "not quite as famous around here as Tom Brady...but still the GOAT. Well, in my eyes anyway." And then she took a deep breath. Frank paused, his hand staying still as he looked up at her smiling softly. "Alexander." They both said at the same time, Fliss' mouth curling into a little smile, her hand falling on top of his. "Alexander William Adler." She beamed down at him and Frank nodded, his own smile growing wider. "Yeah. Yeah I like that." He leaned up to give her a gentle peck, smiling against her lips "I really like it. Alex for short..." She smiled at him as he gently cupped her face. "Alex Adler it is." She nodded, her eyes misting up slightly before he kissed her again. ***** The next morning they packed Mary off to Roberta’s. She wasn’t in quite as bad a mood with Frank as she had been the previous evening. She was talkative enough to ask who had been on the phone when she had walked into the kitchen and why it meant Fliss had ended up re-jigging her morning around. The told her they had some stuff to sort for Bean, but in truth they were heading to see Greg who had called following Frank’s text message to say he could fit them in to talk about Mary’s adoption before his first appointment that morning.

"Hi guys!" Greg strode out of his office greeting the pair of them with a smile "Damned girl you getting bigger by the day?" He teased, gesturing to her bump. "Bloody well feels that way." She grumbled. Frank placed a hand on the bottom of her back and guided her into the room where they both took a seat at one side of Greg’s desk.

“So…” he smiled “Tell me then, what’s sparked this off?” Frank briefly explained about the school and how he’d been thinking about it for some time as Greg smiled, pausing only to thank his PA who walked in with two coffees and an apple juice. Once Frank had finished Greg leaned back, a finger trailing over his mouth before he smiled.

"So the process you’ll go through, if you decide to go through with it is called Kinship adoption." Greg repeated "In general, the procedure of adopting a family member’s child is considerably simpler than other types of adoption because some parts of the domestic adoption process will not apply ergo it is normally easier and faster. And given the fact that you already have legal guardian status this negates any requirement for home studies, nor will there be any need for a supervision period post an initial care placement period as she is already in your care." "So what do we need to do?" Fliss asked. "First off we need to obtain permission from Polland." Greg said "He needs to surrender his legal parental rights by law." Fliss frowned and Greg looked at her before he began to expand on his explanation. "A child can’t have more than two legal parents at a time." Greg looked at her "So as you both would be Mary's legal parents via adoption, it means that Polland's legal rights to her will be completely severed." "I thought they were already terminated?" Fliss looked at Frank who shook his head. "We discussed petitioning for it but it would have prolonged the whole hearing process." Frank looked at her. "I just wanted Mary to settle and legally be allowed to stay, and, well to be honest, it didn’t feel right to sever him completely whilst she was so young, even though he is a total dick. Mary could have changed her mind down the line about all sorts of things so…” he trailed off.

“So all that means that technically he still has the right to apply for visitation if he so wishes." Greg looked at Fliss “But an adoption would stop that." "What if he objects?" Frank asked, the thought suddenly springing into his mind. "Then we would file to the court to have his objection overruled, and request they sever his rights regardless of what he says." Greg said "And given the history with this case, I think there's a pretty good chance we would win." Frank nodded "Ok, so rights removed one way or another. Then what?" "Then we petition the court, file the paperwork, all the boring stuff like the welfare checks will happen, which, will predominantly focus on you Fliss as Frank went through all of this already. They may want to meet your family but I wouldn't worry about it at all. It’s a safe, stable and loving environment that Mary has. That's clear to anyone." Frank gently took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together as he gave her a smile. "And then, once that's over you’ll attend a finalisation hearing where you’ll be granted legal parental status." Greg says. "It sounds complicated but it’s fairly straight forward because, as I keep saying, she's been with you for a while now and she's a relative." "So how long would it take?" Fliss asked. Greg wrinkled his nose "if Polland doesn't object I'd be surprised if it took longer than 3 months. Given that Bean is due to arrive in just under two, you might wanna hang off until things have settled down a little. Maybe kick it off at the end of September, give you both time to get to grips with the fact you have a new baby. Leave it with me, I’ll speak to one of the guys at the Welfare department, see exactly what parts of the process they will need to do and then we’ll take it from there.” “Sounds like a plan.” Frank smiled, as Fliss squeezed his hand.

*****

"I prefer Theodore" Mary shrugged when they told her over dinner about the name they had settled on. "But William is cool, after Bill." "Well when you grow up and have your own kid, and by grown up I mean 35 on account that you won't allowed to date until you're at least 30..." Frank pointed his fork at her "...you can call your own kid that." "I might have a girl" Mary shrugged, the towel she was wrapped in slipping from her shoulders slightly. "Theodora then" Fliss said, shoving another fork full of chicken into her mouth. Mary pondered this for a second before she shrugged and Frank simply arched an eyebrow as he looked at Fliss who leaned back in the whicker chair and grinned. "So why can't I tell anyone the name?" Mary asked after she swallowed more of her dinner. "Because we want something to stay a surprise Stack" Frank explained "everyone already knows he's a boy. We just wanna keep a little something to ourselves for the 5 weeks or we have before he arrives." "But we wanted you to know." Fliss smiled. Mary grinned "Ok. Secret's safe." She placed her fork down on her empty plate "I'm finished, can I go back in the pool?" "Give it 5 minutes for your food to settle yeah?' Frank looked at Fliss who nodded at him and he cleared his throat slightly. "And while you're waiting, there's something else we wanted to talk to you about." "Ok..." Mary looked at him. "You know how you asked us where we were going this morning?" He looked at her, his hand dropping to Fliss’ knee under the table and she tangled her fingers with his, giving them an encouraging squeeze. "Yeah" “And I said it was to do with Bean?”

“Yeah…” "Well, it was actually to see Greg. And it was about you." Her eyes widened and she swallowed her food with a gulp. “They're not taking me away again are they?" "No, no nothing like that." Fliss soothed her quickly, "In fact...kinda the opposite." "I don't understand" she frowned. "We went to see Greg to ask him about how, if you want us to, we can start the process to adopt you." Frank looked at her. Mary blinked and she looked at Frank who held her gaze before she turned to Fliss. "Adopt me" she whispered. Frank nodded. "But only if that's what you want. It won't mean anything will change, not on a day to day basis anyway, it just means that me and Fliss will both have full-“ He was cut off as Mary jumped up out of her seat and flung herself at him, wrapping her arms round him, pressing her face into the crook of his shoulder and neck as she began to sob. Fliss watched them both, a lump forming in her throat as Frank glanced at her, his eyes glassy. "I'm hoping they're happy tears." He said, clearing his throat. Fliss smiled gently as he simply sat rocking Mary slightly till she calmed down enough to sit back, her hands reaching up, fingers threading into his beard. "So..." she sniffed "you would be my mom and dad?" "Baby we already are." Fliss leaned forward as much as she could to gently rub her back. "I told you that a few weeks ago." "But legally?" "Yeah." Frank nodded. "It will take a little while but Greg says that it will be quicker than usual considering its something called a Kinship Adoption." "What does that mean?" Mary asked quietly. "Basically because you're a relative to me and you've been living with me for so long, some of the process may not be needed." Frank explained. He hesitated for a moment, debating how honest to be before he decides to explain fully to her. She had to understand, she deserved to. "What it does mean, however, is that to allow both Fliss and I to become your parents, they have to completely cut your father off. Which means he has no rights to see you at all going forward. He might refuse our application because of that." "He could refuse?" Mary frowned. "Yeah, but I don't think he will." Frank shook his head "And even if he does we can fight it." Mary nodded, her head bowed a little "He never wanted me anyway..." "Well we do." Fliss said firmly. “And he’s a jackass for not wanting anything to do with you Mary.” "If he does refuse will I have to go live with him?" she looked up her eyes wide. "No." Fliss shook her head "it just means things stay the same as they are now." "That's not so bad." Mary shrugged and Frank gave a huff of a laugh. "Glad to hear it." Frank raised an eyebrow as Mary began fiddling with the collar of his t-shirt "Now, we're going to need to wait until after Alex is born as things are gonna be busy for us all when he arrives but we wanted to give you chance to think about it and make sure it’s what you want. And whatever you decide it doesn't change a thing, ok? You'll stay here and we will still love you no matter what." Mary swallowed and looked at Frank earnestly "I do want. I know already. I don't need to think about it." Frank smiled and brushed her hair back off her face which was getting rather long now and she beamed back at him. "Will I still need to call you Frank?" Frank took a deep breath "that’s up to you. Why don't you see how you feel OK?" She nodded and reached up to kiss his cheek before she hopped down and turned towards Fliss. She chambered onto her knee as best she could and wrapped her arms around her neck, hugging her tight. "I'm so happy." She sniffed and Fliss let out a little noise that was half laugh, half sob and she held her back tightly. Frank wiped his eyes, sniffing a little as he fought to keep it together. He had expected an emotional response from Mary, but it still hadn't prepared him in the slightest for how he was going to feel. For so long he had resisted being referred to as her father and now here he was about to embrace it, and make it 'legal'. Whilst he still had that tiny little bit of guilt regarding Diane, he was pleased to find he didn't feel a shred of doubt, nor after all the soul searching and conversations with Bill last week, and then his mother this afternoon who had, rather emotionally, told him she thought it was a ‘wonderful’ idea, even stating that if Polland did object, she was ready to go onto battle alongside him. Greg was convinced they would have a great chance of winning if it came to it, and even if they didn't, like Fliss said, nothing would change. But for now, he pushed all that to the back of his mind, focusing on the here and now as Mary sat on Fliss lap, her hand skating over her bump as they both giggled, Mary pulling her arm away and squealing. "He just kicked real big!" She looked at Frank, drawing out the word real as he smiled. "Clearly he likes the idea too." He quipped as he stood up "and you know what I like the sound of?" He whipped off his t-shirt and in a flash plucked Mary off Fliss' lap and ran full pelt to the pool with her in his arms as she shrieked and swatted at his back playfully, Thor running behind them, his loud barks booming around the garden. With a huge jump Frank propelled them straight off the side and under the surface of the cool water. They both emerged a second or so later, Mary spluttering as she splashed him causing him to reach out and grab her leg, pulling her back under. "I’m going to be living with 3 children Bean." Fliss patted her bump, just as Thor gave one final frustrated wine before he launched himself into the pool too. Mary let out a huge laugh and pointed to him and Frank grinned as she chambered onto his back. "Hey Frank look..." she giggled loudly "doggy paddle" Frank found that far more funny than he should.

**** Chapter 9

#riding on #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 Ch8: A Bun (And Cookies) In The Oven

Summary: Frank and Fliss attend Mary’s end of year fundraising gala at school, the Nursery is finally finished and plans are made regarding Mary’s adoption.

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut (NSFW, NO UNDER 18s!).

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

Series Masterlist // WIYPT Masterlist

And it may take some time to patch me up inside, but I can't take it so I run away and hide. And I may find in time that you were always right, you're always right.