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jimlingss · 4 years ago

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Sugar and Coffee [18]

Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 18.5 OR Chapter 19

➜ Words: 4.5k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

It’s funny how things come and go in life. The longer you live and the more things you experience, you realize just how fickle living can be. The events that you anticipate the most come and go while the ones you dread linger. The people you expect to stay with you leave — and the people you expect to leave end up staying. Similarly, the internship that you had been so worried and excited for was finally finished. It was sad to say goodbye and to leave the shop behind. You genuinely loved being there, learning and spending your time perfecting your craft. Even bratty Yuna was sad to bid you farewell — the two of you had grown fond of each other over the months, so you sent her a card right when you got home yourself and you heard from Namjoon that she had pinned it on her wall. Luckily, you knew that this goodbye wouldn’t be a permanent one. It was different to other goodbyes you’ve had in the past. Namjoon and Sejeong assured both you and Jungkook a million times that it was only temporary — that they’d be happy to hire you back after your schooling is finished if you so happened to choose to work for them again. And it’s a proposition that still interests you greatly. You’re not sure what Jungkook wants to do — but you know you’d love to return and continue making wedding cakes under their mentorship someday. But for now you had to return on your path. The end of Summer was quickly approaching, and you find yourself coming back to where it started. Well. Sort of. In actuality, you were standing on Jungkook’s parents’ doorstep. Suitcase in hand. Full of hesitance and uncertainty. Fingers kept away from the doorbell. You’re not sure if this is a place that would welcome you again. But Jungkook had insisted. He pressed on, insisting that you should visit his family again, to at least come see him for a few days with the Summer that remained left. He whined about how much he missed you. And you had to admit, you missed him too. So here you were, like a complete idio— “God, okay! I’m throwing out the trash now!” The door opens. The boy freezes. He stares at you with rounded eyes as you stare back at him. He’s dressed in a worn t-shirt and gym shorts, flopping hair sticking out in all directions like he just woke up even though it’s well past noon. One hand is on the handle, the other is holding a black garbage bag. Slowly the corner of your mouth quirks. “Hi.” A stupidly big grin plasters across Jungkook’s face and spreads into his cheeks as his eyes light up with mirth. Jungkook’s voice softens. “When’d you get here?” “Just now.” He drops the garbage and is about to come and hug you, but something shoots out from between his legs to engulf you in a tight embrace instead. “Y/N!” Eunbi’s summer dress flutters in the breeze and you lift her up as best as you can with a smile. Lia follows quickly behind, wearing a big smile and she turns over her shoulder. “Y/N’s here!” “She’s here?” Someone comes stumbling from the kitchen, throwing her kitchen towel aside. Jungkook’s dad comes out from the backyard, having heard the ruckus. “She’s here.” “She’s here!” Eunbi repeats in giggles and your arms widen when Lia joins in greeting you with a hug. Jungkook sighs wistfully, separated from you by his overbearing family members. Yet, all the worries you had about being welcomed or not instantly vanishes. They greet you warmly — Jungkook’s dad asking how you’ve been, how exams and classes and the internship was. You’re bombarded with curious questions and enthusiastic answers, only spared when Jungkook’s mom pulls you to the kitchen where she has a whole countertop of food prepared. She wasn’t sure what you liked to eat, so she made everything she could when she heard you were coming and you can’t find it in your heart to reject her hard efforts. So you consume as much as you can before Eunbi tugs you aside to join her tea party with Lia. You find out their parents have gone for a last-minute trip, so they’ve been staying at their aunt’s and uncle’s, obviously having a blast by the looks of it, especially now with you here. It’s only when Jungkook turns on a Disney movie and makes them sit down to watch that he’s finally able to sneak you away. “Sorry about that.” He shuts the door to his room, sighing at how difficult it was to get a hold of you in his own house. “It’s okay. I love your family.” “That makes one of us,” Jungkook mutters and sulks. “You try spending twenty four hours a day seven days a week with them and see how they can drive you nuts.” “Aww, poor baby. Your family cares about you, how horrible.” Your voice drips of sarcasm and you feign sympathy, reaching over to pat him on the back. Jungkook scoffs but takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around you. He leans down enough to accommodate for the height difference and he props his chin on your shoulder. His nose digs into your hair, breathing in. You’re ticklish from his grip. “Jungkook…” “I missed you.” “It’s only been what?” You rest your head on his shoulder, giving into his warmth. “Two weeks?” “Long enough.” “School starts in another week. If I didn’t come, you still would’ve seen me.” “Yeah, but what if I died before then and couldn’t see you ever again?” he whines and it’s hard to resist the small smile tugging at your lips. But you manage to pull away from him and roll your eyes. “You’re so dramatic.” The boy grins and takes a seat on his chair by his old computer desk while you plop down onto the edge of his bed. “So….what have you been up to?” “You act like we haven’t called and texted each other every single day.” “Yeah, but I don’t know what the trip was like up here.” “Fair enough,” you hum. “I guess all that really happened is that I sat next to this really handsome man on the bus here who shared my interests and hobbies. And we had a hot, passionate summer fling and we decided to make this a long-term thing, so we’re getting married. Sorry to say, Jeon, but you’ve lost your chance.” You laugh and his eye twitches. In an instant, you’re being pinned to his mattress with Jungkook hovering above you. His knee wedges between your legs, hands pressed flat next to your head. The dark strands of his hair grazes against your forehead and you sink deeper into his pillows. But even in such a compromising position, you can’t help but muse how cute he looks feigning anger like this. “I’m trying to be nice here, but you’re always testing my patience, brat. You really think I won’t kill you one day?” “You wouldn’t.” You quirk your head to the side, hands grasping at his forearms. Your eyes glimmer with a challenge before they flicker up to the posters lining his wall. “Not with IU watching.” He grins, a small laugh coming from his nose. “Jieun would understand.” You snort and he helps you sit up. “Do your parents know…?” “No. Otherwise, you’d be on the phone with my grandma right now. They’re overbearing enough as it is.” You nod. “They don’t think it’s weird that I’m here?” “No.” Jungkook scoffs. “God, they love you. Isn’t it obvious? They think you’re a ��good influence’ on me. Better than Taehyung and Jimin are, at least. Those two are just idiots no matter where they go, so my parents are always concerned that all of us will get into fender benders.” He uses air quotes when he says ‘good influence’ and you bat his arm. “I am a good influence on you.” “Uh-huh.” Jungkook eyes you skeptically. “They should see you when you get mad—” “I don’t get mad.” “—and when you start swearing. Or the amount of dirty, dirty things you can say…” “Jungkook,” your whine tapers off when he suddenly lays a hand on your upper thigh. Jungkook’s half-lidded eyes and heavy gaze flickers down to your lips. He starts to lean in, head angling and your breath catches in your throat in eager anticipation. Your eyes flutter shut. But you never feel the velvet texture of Jungkook’s lips against yours. Instead, there’s a loud knock that startles you both to death. Then, the door opens. And the boy, whose lap you were nearly perched on, is already back on his desk chair, whirling around. “Hey, Y/N.” Jungkook’s dad is smiling wide. “What are you guys up to?” “We’re just talking,” his son deadpans. “Is there something you need?” “Nope.” The middle-aged man who uncannily has Jungkook’s eyes leans on the doorframe with arms crossed casually. “Just thought I’d pop by, see what’s going on, let you know your mom thinks you two can bring Lia and Eunbi into town to pick up some groceries….” “Okay. We can do that later.” There’s a terrible, awkward silence as Jungkook’s dad hangs around. It makes the younger frown. “Is there something wrong?” “No.” He shakes his head, slowly starting to turn away before Jungkook dies in modification. But then he stops and looks back with a smile playing at his lips. “You guys should keep the door open though. House policy. Not mine but your mother’s. You know...she doesn’t want any funny business happening.” “Dad.” “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.” His hands are lifted up in the air and he laughs it off. The older man pushes the door so it’s wide open and then waltzes away. Jungkook’s sigh is long enough to empty out his lungs and you giggle at their interaction. The walk to town is lovely. The end of Summer keeps the weather from sweltering or being uncomfortable. It’s warm with a brisk wind kissing against your cheeks. You consider just how cozy this town is, small houses and big lawns, white picket fences and scalloped shingle rooftops. The grocery store is modest too and several people greet Jungkook when he enters, asking how he’s been and if you're someone special to him. It’s a place where everyone knows everyone and it’s cute. You never considered Jungkook to be a small town boy, but it’s somehow fitting. “We need to get apples, cucumbers, scallions….” He flips over the list, trying to discern his mom’s chicken scratch as he pushes the shopping cart. “Uh…..that either says potatoes or tomatoes.” “Can we get this?!” Eunbi holds up a box bigger than her body. The doll inside is smiling. Jungkook doesn’t even glance at it. “No.” “Awww.” The four of you walk down the cereal aisle and Jungkook stops for a detour. He picks two to compare and concentrates too hard for such a menial task. “I didn’t know cereal was on our list,” you say while peeking over his shoulder. “I like cereal,” he mumbles. In spite of taking a full minute on deliberating what brand he wants, Jungkook ends up settling for both. He places them into the cart and continues pushing it down the aisle while humming. You keep a watch on Eunbi in the meanwhile to make sure she doesn’t get lost, but soon Lia comes back with something in hand. “Y/N, can we please make this together?” The seven year old has a bright, red box of chewy fudge brownie mix. Automatically, you and Jungkook’s faces twist in abhorrent disgust. “It says we just need...egg, water, and oil!” she reads off of it proudly. “No, we don’t need a box to make brownies,” you coax with a smile. “We can make it fresher. A few more steps and it’ll taste worlds better than the box.” “Really?” “Really.” “Yay!” Eunbi’s loudly cheering in the middle of the grocery store, arms in the air and hopping up and down. “We get brownies!” “What’s even in here?” Jungkook takes the box and flips it around. His eyes narrow in on the tiny letters of the ingredient list. “Sugar, enriched bleached wheat flour? What’s carrageenan? Pft, artificial flavour?” He arrogantly tosses it aside. “We don’t need that. We’re professionals.” You snort. “Uh-huh. A professional who doesn’t even know how to make a moist cake.” “At least I can temper chocolate,” he bites back without skipping a beat — without blinking or taking a breath. When Jungkook sees your shocked expression, he laughs heartily and throws an arm over your shoulder, nuzzling into you. “I’m kidding. Kidding.” You scoff, throw his arm off of you. “No, you aren’t.” “Are you fighting?” Eunbi grabs a hold of your shirt, tugging lightly. “Only because Jungkook is mean,” you tell with an exaggerated pout. It’s his turn to be offended. “You just said my cakes weren’t moist!” You ignore him. “Let’s go, children. We don’t interact with bullies.” Lia and Eunbi giggle, happy to go along with you and leave Jungkook in the dust, scrambling to roll the shopping cart behind you. Eventually, the groceries are paid for and the walk back turns out to be equally enjoyable. Once the four of you arrive back to the house, his parents are out working in the garden, so you and Jungkook put away the groceries together and pull out the necessary ingredients for brownies. “We can probably make two batches.” “I wanna do it with Y/N!” Lia immediately exclaims, jumping to your side. She leaves her younger sister frowning and on the verge of tears. “No, I wanna!” “How about me?” Jungkook stands in the middle of his own kitchen at a complete loss. It causes laughter to bubble from you. “Okay, all three of us can do it together and we can verse Jungkook. How about that?” They nod and Lia tells her cousin that he’s going down, teasing him mercilessly and you indulge them about how you’re better than Jungkook in everything at school — something he adamantly protests about. Soon, all of you get to work. You teach them how to preheat the oven, grease the pans, and watch as the half cup of butter is melted in a saucepan. Lia and Eunbi help you measure out one cup of sugar and they each crack an egg into the butter. Three quarter cups of cocoa are shifted into the mixture along with a half cup of flour, a quarter teaspoon of salt and a quarter teaspoon of baking powder. You show the two girls how to fold the ingredients gently together and you catch them a moment before they’re about to spoon the batter into their mouths. They give stretching smiles and you help them spread it into a pan instead to bake. It’s put in for half an hour, slightly underdone so it’s sweet and still gooey. “It smells wonderful in here,” Jungkook’s mom gasps as she enters, taking off her garden gloves and wiping her brow with the back of her hand. “Did you make something special?” “Look auntie!” Eunbi is jumping, hands jittery, on a sugar high. “We made brownies!” “Did you now?” She peers over the counter, brows raising. “My goodness, they look amazing.” “We helped make them with Y/N,” Lia announces, mouth smeared in chocolate. “Did you thank Y/N yet for showing you how to make them?” Both girls instantly whirl around, thanking you with bashful and shy smiles. In the meanwhile, Jungkook’s mom is unable to resist and reaches over for a brownie. She groans at the taste and smacks her lips together. “Don’t eat too much or it’ll ruin your appetite,” she says — much like how Jungkook often reminds you — and ironically bites into her brownie again. The woman turns to you. “These are delicious, dear.” “They weren’t too hard to make.” “You should show me the recipe, I’d love to bake these again.” “I’ve made these before!” Jungkook complains in a higher pitched voice, eating his own brownies when no one takes them out of his pan. But no one pays mind to him. Not his mother or his twirling cousins. “Of course, I can.” You, on the other hand, do pay attention to Jungkook. You grin at him as he glares. And only later when there’s a moment of privacy will he tickle you as revenge for making his entire family love you more than him. It’s then that he finally gets the chance to kiss you too. // Dinner with the Jeon family is as you would expect it to be. Everyone inhales all the food and chit chats with one another. There’s warm banter shared across the dinner table as his parents make him talk about the trip to Tahiti, how the internship was and if he was on his best behaviour. He gives you discreet, defeated looks to show how he’s so done with them and it’s hard to stifle your giggles. Afterwards, you help him do the dishes as his cousins turn on a movie to watch and his parents finish off the brownies you made. Not long after that, everybody begins to retreat to their rooms. “Aw, do we have to go to bed?” “Yes. Don’t you want to help plant the flowers tomorrow?” Jungkook’s mom smooths out her hair. “Only big girls can help and you can only get big if you sleep and get strong.” “Okay.” Lia sulks. “But can I at least say goodnight to Y/N?” “Yes.” The older woman offers a rather maternal smile. “You can.” Lia runs to you down the hall right as you leave the bathroom with your toothbrush in hand, catching you off guard. She hugs you tight. “Goodnight, Y/N!” Eunbi is hot on her sister’s heels and you stumble back when she throws herself at you too. “Night, night, Y/N!” “Goodnight, you two.” “Can we play tomorrow?” You ruffle the five year old’s hair. “Course we can.” She beams and hops back, following her aunt. Her uncle is already inside their room, holding up books. “Who’s ready for story time?” “Me!” Lia runs off and waves to you. At the same time, Jungkook leaves his room to see their retreating forms and scoffs. “Wow, are they not going to wish me a goodnight?” You slap his arm, laughing. “Stop being so jealous all the time. I can’t help that I’m so lovable.” He scoffs and affectionately pokes your forehead with his index finger. “I can’t even argue with that.” The corner of his mouth curls and you grin. Jungkook has that look in his eyes — the one you’ve learnt to recognize. He looks like he wants to kiss you, like he’s about to do it too, but the pair of you are interrupted by someone lingering in the hallway. “Y/N, you’re sleeping in the guest bedroom, right?” His mom looks at you and you nod quickly. “Yes, I am.” “Good.” She relaxes and bobs her head. “Jungkook, you go back to your room now. There’s a long day tomorrow.” He sighs, but doesn’t argue. Jungkook turns right back around into his room and keeps the door slightly open for a second, enough to give you an incredulous look. It makes you smile and mouth ‘goodnight’ to him before he shuts the door. His mom brings you to the guest bedroom, helping you set up for the night and asking if you need extra blankets and pillows. “Are you sure everything’s okay?” “Yes, it is. Thank you, Mrs. Jeon.” “If you’re ever cold, feel free to grab anything from the closet.” When you nod, she gets to the door. Jungkook’s mom is about to turn off the light, but lingers. She twists around to share a smile with you. “Thank you for coming, Y/N. I’m glad to see you again.” “No, thank you.” You’re caught off guard by her words of gratitude. “Honestly, I didn’t want to be such a bother.” “You aren’t. Trust me.” She laughs, a tinkling sound emitting from her chest. “I’ve always wanted a daughter like you. Jungkook is two more handfuls than I can handle sometimes, especially when he was young.” The older woman shakes his head with a fond expression. “He might not look like it but he’s still very much a child. I worry about him being gone so far for so long out of the entire year. So, I’m glad there’s someone like you looking out for him.” You’re touched by her sincerity, but you can’t help but feel like she’s gotten it wrong. You awkwardly shift your weight from one foot to the other. “Mrs. Jeon—” “You can call me auntie, if you’d like.” You nod timidly. “Jungkook actually looks out for me a lot more than I do for him. He really helped me through a lot of tough times, so really, I should be the one thanking him….” She smiles, the wrinkles around her eyes creasing. “Then I’m even more grateful that Jungkook’s not hopeless. It’s good that the two of you have one another.” Part of you wants to tell her that you’re unequivocally in love with her son. But by the twinkle in her eye, you get a sense that she already knows the true nature between you and Jungkook. You don’t need to say it aloud or make any announcements. Her smile becomes more tender in the small silence and then she finally bids you a goodnight, flicking off the lights in the room. You end up laying there for a while. You receive Jungkook’s text telling you this is so dumb and you laugh. The bright lights of your phone eventually burns your eyes too much, so you throw it aside, opting to stare at the ceiling and listen to his house. You can hear doors closing, footsteps, the flicker of the hallway light turning off and more doors closing. Silence settles in for a good ten minutes, but before you can completely drift off to sleep, your door cracks open. A familiar boy sneaks into your room with a soft sigh. He shuts the door silently and nimbly avoids all the creaks in the floorboards, knowing where each of them are after growing up and spending his childhood in these four walls. “You’re not supposed to be here.” You sit up, covers pooling around your waist. His feet slide and the mattress dips underneath his weight. “And I care because…?” You scoff. “Rebellious, aren’t you, Jeon?” “You don’t even know the start of it.” He grins. “I just want to lay with you for a while. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.” “But your parents don’t know that. What happens if they catch you here?” you ask while peeling back the covers anyhow, happily inviting him in. “Nothing will happen. It’s okay.” “Yeah, but they might hate me...for tainting their son.” “Impossible.” Jungkook settles in and pulls the covers up to keep you warm. You cuddle yourself into him and he props his chin on top of your head. “And they don’t care about that. They just don’t want any Jeon grandkids, or at least not until we graduate.” “Psh. You’re going to have to prove yourself before you implant anything in my uterus, Jeon.” His nose wrinkles at your euphemism, but then he pokes your side, making you squirm. “Prove myself? Haven’t I already?” “Just cause I let you kiss me a few times doesn’t mean I have plans to make this long-term,” you tease and this time he’s the one scoffing. Jungkook rolls on top of you, pinning you underneath him. The soft glow of the lamp posts outside on the suburban street comes through the window and when your eyes adjust to the darkness, you’re able to discern a few of his features — especially that sulking expression of his. Jungkook’s such a baby sometimes. Or at least he likes to be babied by you. Yoongi, Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jimin would shit themselves if they saw him now. But it makes you happy to be the only one who can see this endearing side of him. “What more do you want to put me through, hmm?” You cock your head to the side. “Who knows, you might just get bored of me in a few weeks, Jeon. Better not to jump the gun.” “I don’t think so. What do you take me for? Someone with that low of an attention span?” “Well…” You draw out the syllable. “Last I checked, you still don’t know how to make flowers with gum paste.” His tongue clicks in annoyance and he starts to tickle you again at your weakest parts. You squirm underneath him, giggling as your legs kick to no avail. It makes the bed squeak, the headboard hitting against the wall and Jungkook laughs and quickly lets up. He covers your mouth with his palm. “Shush! You’re going to wake them up.” You peel off his hand, harshly whispering, “You started it.” Jungkook’s smile is big enough to make his cheeks hurt. He missed you — your company, warmth, the teasing banter. It’s hard to fathom that his best friend is actually here with him, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Jungkook leans down, locking his lips against yours. Your soft mouths slots against each other like it’s the way it always should have been and he relishes in the groan you release. It’s a gentle kiss, one that merely tests the waters and then he pulls away. You blink up at him, breath leaving through your parted lips that now taste like his vanilla chapstick. “No funny business, remember?” “I know.” Jungkook gets off of you, resuming his place by your side. “But I wasn’t planning any ‘funny business’. Where has your mind gone too?” Your cheeks heat. “I’m just saying.” He chuckles softly, arm slung across your waist. You’re pulled close as he nestles in. It’s easy to relax and your hand lifts to wrap around his back. The both of you hold each other for a while in the comfortable darkness underneath the cozy covers. You’re lulled in his company. “Jungkook.” “Hmm?” “You can’t fall asleep here.” “I know,” he mumbles. But contrary to Jungkook’s words, he does fall asleep with you — sharing the same bed like those nights in Tahiti. Only in the morning, when dawn breaks and the morning light comes through the glass windows are you both naturally shaken awake. It’s then that Jungkook scratches his bed hair flopping in all directions, eyes swollen as he stumbles back to his own bedroom. And you drift back to sleep with a softened smile on your face.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #bts reader insert #jungkook reader insert #btsboulangerie #LET'S GO Y'ALL

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goodguydotmp3 · 4 years ago

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two questions: why don’t you like harry and do you really think harry villanized the weed video or do you think that was the people attempting to court him (azoffs)

Whew, this is a long one folx!

Why don’t you like Harry [Styles]?

Let me preface this response by saying that I’m a pretty new “fan” if one can still call me that. I got into the One Direction fandom in the summer of last year, and much of my opinions of the boys where shaped by fan reactions. After gathering more and more information however, I realized that the fandom and I were wrong about some things, and over hyping others.

Still, it wasn’t until this year that I actually broke out of the Harry-centric bubble to realize that the shady goings on where much worse than I originally thought. Add to this my realization that Harry’s music really doesn’t withstand the test of time, and that his persona is pretty Stagnant, and I’ve come to feel rather bamboozled.

Of course I know that the entire point of his PR team is to sway public opinion of him one way, and if I ate it up that was part of the plan. That doesn’t mean I have to like it. It also doesn’t mean I feel any less hurt about it. It also doesn’t mean that I like when other people fawn over him, as quite a lot of what I’m going to say has been public knowledge, and some of it before I was even a fan.

A. Music

Actually getting to a big part of the problem here, his music isn’t good. Well, not long term like I said in the preface. He doesn’t really have much of a vocal range despite being a singer for more than ten years. He does not care and acts like he does, often leading to him sounding like he’s screaming instead of singing. He’s lyrics are boring and flat, and his melodies are fine, they just don’t make up for his unmemorable lyrics. I personally think that the cause is him more heavily relying on song writers to fill in more in more, but that’s mostly because I don’t want to believe that the same person who wrote Happily and Olivia also wrote At the Dining Table and Treat People With Kindness, because that would just mean he’s getting worse or putting forth less effort.

Of course one could argue that I’m not a professional, I don’t have the necessary Jargon to correctly critique, and I’m no longer a singer so I can’t even do what he does. But to that I say fuck off. I know what sounds good! I know what I like!

Even more than that though, If you bought a product (non food), and you could only use that product for the first two weeks you bought it, you’d say it was a shit product! You’d scream from the rooftops that no one should ever buy this product because it’s crap! Well guess what? I pre-ordered Fine Line just to listen for two weeks and never pick it up again except for golden, she’s a funky tune every couple months.

Besides the test of time, there is still the subject of actual talent/listenability if you will. I feel there’s four main categories when I listen to music that makes it worth listening to

1.Amazing voice

2.Awesome lyrics

3.Funky/ cool ass melody/Beat

4.Catchy as hell

Now, a song doesn’t need to be all four, however the more they have the more likely I am to like the song. Also, I’ve said “main categories” because I’ve definitely had songs were I just through the beat drop was cool, or maybe the bridge was sick as hell, or maybe I just liked the pacing or the way the singer/singers stressed a note. Alternatively there is a sweet spot for me of super depressing lyrics but a melody/ that makes you want to dance. See: most of After Laughter by Paramore, Lola By Mika. But in general, those four usually make me love a song long term.

If it’s an album, it usually Just has to sound like it belongs on the same album/ tell a story. Like I really don’t like albums that sound like it’s just a playlist of songs personally. I should be able to listen to a song and go “oh yeah, that’s off --- album” or I didn’t like the album as a whole. An album is a bit like an outfit to me. It’s not going to be all tops, nor does it need to be monochromatic, but it does need to go together

For Example, I love Four as an album. I thought it was amazing. I still hate Spaces and Illusion. I hate both of their melodies, I don’t like the Illusion intro, I’m not to keen on those lyrics, and they’re definitely not catchy, I skip every time.

So taking that logic to Harry’s music, I think HS1 works very well as an album, almost all of the songs sound like they’re supposed to be there. And I hate every song but Kiwi. The lyrics are boring/don’t make a ton of sense, the melodies definitely don’t make up for that, he doesn’t have the range, and none of them are catchy! And then you get to Kiwi and she’s got that vibe you know? She’s a pop punk bop and I cannot fucking believe that Harry has one pop punk bop among unmemorable pop rock album.

Going to Fine line, It’s not as great as an album. There are some songs that don’t really feel like they fit? Like just going through the album, cherry doesn’t have any business being there? Like the lyrics fit sure, but what is that weird intro and outro? It probably would have been fine If the song didn’t have those two, but having them there upset the pace a bit I felt. And then there was Treat People With Kindness, which was really Jarring and doesn’t feel like it belongs on the album at all? It actually feels like it’s trying to be Kiwi - it’s loud and garish, and the lyrics are trying to be carefree, but! It just doesn’t work! TPWK sounds like Hippie music! Kiwi sounds like Brendon Urie could sing it and people would be like “good ol Panic!”. And then the album goes back down into Fine line the song, which again is Jarring because you’ve had this TPWK monstrosity right before it.

Then, looking at the overarching theme of his music, It’s whiny piss baby music He hates to take responsibility for his actions! It’s all in his lyrics! And don’t get me wrong, I love Honest lyrics, but not if the person is an asshole! LIke I fucking hate confessions by Usher specifically becasue he’s talking about how much he’s a piece of shit in the most whiny and piss baby way, making it all about him and no the people he hurt. I also really hate that one song that Zayn did with Usher and Chris Brown, because you have these awful men completely misunderstanding what it means to write a love song, and then you have Zayn at the very end all like “actually I really am in love tho…” Esp Chris browns verse! It boils down to “Hey I know I was a asshole seven billion times but I miss you tho :(“ GIRL BYE!

Harry sounds the exact same though, Except he can’t even blame himself for his own mistakes, and just wades through self pity about how the object of his affection won’t love him even though he didn’t even do anything except it wasn’t his fault and why are you still mad it wasn’t even his fault and he was young and reckless and drunk and horny. Like??? WRITE A NEW SONG TAYLOR SWIFT 2.0! There’s only so much you can repackage the same narrative before it becomes stale no Cinderella does not count keep that shit coming. And It really jumps out in his writing, even through 1d, although I will say there were some catchy beats, and awesome lines to keep him afloat back then. Although wtf was Walking in the Wind??? Choke!

Then there are the melodies I’m talking post wondee here which often give this 70’s pop rock vibe. Which fine I guess, it’s his brand, but that doesn’t make it interesting. Or new. Or fresh. Or an interesting take.

Now I completely understand relying on nostalgia to boost people’s opinion, but you could at leas have the decency to actually have good music. For Example, Miss you by Louis Tomlinson has a very distinctive pop rock feel, but it’s also an amazing song. Great lyrics, amazing voice, catchy liddle diddy that happens to be reminiscent of that 2005- 2010 punk pop/emo pop feel. Sour diesel has that like,,,basey 90s pop feel, and it fucking works with the lyrics, and of course his voice is beautiful. When Walls dropped and Lou put out that playlist of songs that were an inspiration, you can hear the influences when you listen to the album, but they’re also really good songs in their own right, with amazing lyrics, and Louis’ distinctive voice. Comparing that to Harry, it seems like he’s mostly relying on people’s nostalgia rather than actually good music.

Okay so this last point I’m making on music is a little petty but it’s been like a week and I’m still pissed about it so I’m saying it now. Someone said that Harry Styles is the best pop rock artist right now???? Just admit that you don’t listen to pop rock tf. Louis Tomlinson is right there. Brendon Urie is right there. Mika is right there. Haley Williams is right there. Janell Monae is right there. I don’t listen to a lot of pop rock lol but i feel my point has been made

B. Public Persona

He get’s so much clout! SO MUCH CLOUT! For doing the bare minimum (this is not specifically about the fandom, that’s for later)! People will write all these glowing reviews of him for him??? Being polite??? Like okay and? Just because a person is polite doesn’t mean they’re fucking Jesus??? There’s a million and one stories so i’m not fucking looking them up but there’s the pizza story and the fish story and the plane story and the snl story and the Stormzy story and the WS story on and on and on! Stop giving this man brownie points for basic human decency. “I didn’t expect him to be like that!” okay is that because of their perception of what a rock star is supposed to be like? Because in that case we need to start holding people accountable for being assholes. Or is it because he seems like an asshole. Cause valid.

I also don’t like him leaning so heavily on the queer image thing. Like! If that’s how he likes to express himself, Fine, But so much of it is just...so manufactured! And I Know I’ve heard people say oh well he wore the one rainbow on his lapel that one time or he wore the shirt or he wore the Keith Harring.

1. That Rainbow pin is sus as hell I don’t care what ya’ll say It absolutely screams set up, if he wanted to not be seen he would have not been seen

2. That goes for literally every other time. I can’t believe it’s not a set up to push a queer image. (that he profits from!)

3. If he actually did his homework on Keith Harring he’d know that the man was a predator, and he wouldn’t have worn those shirts. It seems so performative! To add to that, does he know now? If so, why isn’t he using his platform to correct his mistake? Why didn’t he come out and let people know not to buy Harring’s stuff??? He knows the pull he has! He absolutely could have been like “I’ve made a mistake, if you are looking for queer artists to support, here’s some” But he fucking doesn’t

4. To add on to that last part, It is actually sus that he gets to profit off of this queer image, and yet the only queer voices that he’s propping up are white gays. And then not even directly? Not a “queer artists, esp queer artists of color are important and need their voices boosted because they are the back bone of society” but this wink nod type of deal, where again, he mainly boosts white gays.like??? One queer black woman that doesn’t work for the Azoffs, and then a bunch of white gays. Like?? That’s not racist to anyone else???????Just me? okay.

Now from a professional point of view, it’s even worse. I’m not saying that artists can’t be campy or blurr gender lines, or imply that they ‘re queer subtly. But I think it’s fucking disrespectful to play both ends. Like, he profits off of using the queer image, all while Dancing around the subject, but then on the back end he never says that Homophobes/Transphobes aren’t allowed in his fandom. He gives this empty ass tpwk and then washes his hands of it.

Don’t get me wrong, I am always upset when people who have lots of queerphobes in their fandom bullying and harassing the actual queer people never say anything to let queerphobes know they’re unwelcome (clearly money is better than morals) but for me it’s an extra kick to the gut for it to literally profit Harry to seem queer. Look at that time that gay company sold out shirts in less than an hour,because harry was wearing it and tell me people aren’t throwing money at him because they feel he’s queer.

C. Fashion

This one is a really rough one for me because this is partially what drew me into Harry in the first place. But he’s really not all that in terms of fashion. He’s expensive certainly, but sometimes, the things that are more expensive are worse. Even When He’s not looking like a grandparent out on the town, his style is very dated, and yet he gets paraded around like he’s the freshest new thing?? Like who is his team paying of for him to get that many articles about how he’s fashion’s biggest star. And the thing is, his style is even dated for the mainstream. There’s already a post about how he copies prominent pop/pop rock stars of the 70s, which means that his style is 50 years old for the mainstream. Now don’t get me wrong, I think it’s totally fine if you’re addicted to seventies wear. I don’t think he should be heralded as this huge fashion star if his wardrobe is this dated

Even more than that. Gucci???? The Gucci with a history of Racism?? The Gucci with the child labor??? The Gucci with the 14 hour days Gucci??? Ugly ass Gucci????? Soulja Boy don’t even fuck with Gucci no more and he fuck with Gucci since like 2007. (although that was because of the racism, not cause it’s ugly)

I think that bothers me the most though. Like it’s not enough to exploit people, you also have to be tacky ugly and expensive???? For what??? @Gucci cease to exist please.

If Harry wants to be tacky ugly and expensive, that’s of course his rights to do so! But don’t act like he’s at the very pinnacle of fashion every time he does.

I’m actually always very conflicted about that. I personally prefer a style that’s very loud and campy and avant garde but like,,,,that ain’t it. Maybe it’s something you got it or ya don’t??? Like for example Billy Porter could wear a trashbag and make it work. The expensive sweaters and the slacks? The suits? Not a good look on one Harry Styles. Maybe it’s because they’re expensive sweaters and slacks and expensive suits. What are you, Ted from accounting??? Grow up.

D. Treat People With Kindness

Ugh this is the thing that pisses me off like the second to most. This phrase is so fucking empty. You could not have made up a more corporate mandated phrase if you fucking tried. It stands for nothing! Just like him!

Let’s break it down. “Treat people with kindness” is, at face value, a call to action. It’s asking you to do something. But it doesn’t actually tell you what to do!! So it’s pretty inoffensive! You don’t actually have to change your behavior in anyway for two main reasons:

1. What the hell is Kindness??? This phrase never actually says what it is??? It’s just this short little punchy thing that assumes you know what kindness is! What if you didn’t actually know? What if you have differing ideals of what is considered kindness? I mean to my mother, Misgendering me is kindness, but I don’t think that’s kindness. To my father, not letting his children have autonomy is kindness, but I don’t find that kind. And yet they could both use that phrase and feel confident that they go around treating people with kindness. After all they cooked dinner didn’t they? They smiled at Janice from public relations didn’t they? That’s kindness right?

2. It also assumes you know what “people” are. Queer people are people. Queerphobes don’t consider queer people, people. Racists aren’t going to consider some people, people. So they can continue their harassment and dehumanization of them and still be treating people with kindness, because they never harmed actual people (to them)

E. Harry bots

Bitch?? Corporate spies?? Tf ??? That’s not weird to ya’ll ?? I think the thing that shocked me more than someone from Colombia records admitting that he manufactures the hype around people signed to Colombia, is the fact that the Fandom been knew!!!! Ya’ll been knew and ya’ll wasn’t gon tell me???????? I just found out last week wtf????????

Another thing I don’t like about them Harry bots, is it’s one thing to hype up Harry, but why tf do they need to shit on the other boys??? Is it because they’re more talented, good looking, and charming??? How about you get good!!!! I esp hate that it’s usually Louis. What is Corporate’s obsession with putting Louis down like? What a bunch of fucking weirdos?? It’s not enough to be a Harry fan and live up his ass, I gotta hate Louis too?? You lost yo damn mind. If you reading this and you a spy? Die.

F. Capitalism

Honestly that should be the end of it but here the fuck we go I guess. Now I get that there is going to be some capitalism involved when you get music, especially mainstream music, there are tones of articles out there with people who used to be in the industry telling you about how fucking awful it is, all in the pursuit of money. (Which isn’t fucking real by the way! We made it up! People out here getting traumatized! Belittled! Bullied! Married off! So some corporation can make all the money! The Imaginary Credits! That we made up! I hate it here!)

But it’s another fucking thing to participate in a capitalist system? He invested into that one sleep app, even going to do one of the voice sessions (So you could have Harry Styles themed sleep paralysis) and you pay for that! He makes money off that! It’s not enough that you buy his mediocre music or his ugly ass merch, you also have to give him money through the sleep paralysis app.

Then there was that Google Camp for Rich People Only! I don’t even want to fucking hear that it was on Climate Change oh wow all the rich people took helicopters and Yachts to a resort with manicured lawns??? To talk about how they treat the environment? That’s not at all Counter intuitive! Not at all for show! Fucking disgusting.

Oh and the Covid Shirt! Really bitch??? You need to Profit off a deadly pandemic? Are you profiting off of AIDS next you fucking bastard. And he can of course get a tax write of for his “ charitable donation” fuck off.

G. Racism

This! This is the thing that gets me the most! YA’LL CAN EXCUSE RACISM???

No, I’m not talking about the Native American Headdress thing, that was plenty despicable on it’s own, No I’m talking about the on going racism. The whole, using black people for clout and then dropping them and never returning the favor when they sing his praises thing. Specifically I’m thinking of Sis the activist, Stormzy, and Lizzo.

The Lizzo thing pisses me off the most actually. I think it’s very fucking convenient that Harry started taking interest in Lizzo after there was uproar from black fans noting his hypocrisy of performing for Pepsi (Notoriously racist) and Having BLM sticker on his guitar. So he shows up at one of her concerts dressed like a senior citizen that got lost on the way to the retirement home bathroom. She looked fucking amazing and he couldn’t put forth the effort to at least not look senile. Then there was the covering of her songs, and then there was the cuddling up with her at the awards show. Funny how I haven’t seen any interaction after the fact! And Of course everyone forgot about the Pepsi concert! Fuck all the way off!!

Also! Are we just never going to talk about the fact that he didn’t comment on the blm protests earlier this year until his team could gauge whether or not it would be profitable to do so by DATA MINING HIS FAN BASE???? And then when he actually did he got the most praise for it, truly fucking hate it here. Also when he marched with those protesters he made sure we knew it was him. There were posts flouting around everywhere on how to best cover up to make yourself completely unrecognizable should you wind up on camera or fucking worse, get attacked by the police. Funny how Close Sprouse could follow the advice and not Harry? Also supper funny how he got the hell out of dodge before things got super bad and I have not heard anything on the matter since. Guess what Harry??? We’re still out here fighting for the rights to exist! Still wanna have a photo op while our own government tries to squash us with force????? This is like that Jenner Pepsi ad but with sunglasses and a pandemic.

H. Fandom

I think I would hate him less if I didn’t have to hear about him every hour of everyday. Stop Hyping this man so much. Even after unfollowing and blocking a bunch of Harries and Larries he’s all across my dash. And twitter. And insta. KURTIS CONNER FUCKING LIKES HIM I JUST WANTED CRACK CONTENT AND NOW LOOK.

I. Conclusion.

After writing all this I think the running theme is that Harry Styles isn’t even a person, he’s a brand. I do not like or trust brands! And I definitely don’t like being advertised to! Just like It’s fake as fuck when Absolut is all about queer rights, it’s fake as fuck when Harry does it too. Just like I know Target doesn’t actually care about Black lives, I know Harry doesn’t either. People are always like “oh he’s so nice!” no! He’s polite! There’s a difference. Zayn Is a truly kind person. Liam is a truly kind person. Louis is a truly kind person. It shines though so brightly all the time, and yet people are really out here worshiping the Brand Harry Styles.

Do I think It was Harry or The Azoffs throwing Zouis under the bus.

Truly doesn’t matter! Whichever one did it, Harry was totally fine with it! Which tells me that he doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. He’ll go along with anything as long as it gets him to the top, and that’s fucked up on one million and one levels

#hazza curly mchazzerson #This is like 4 thousand words #Have fun #Harry Styles

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singingaboutwishingx · 4 years ago

Note

Sam/Josh, 19+37

19. summer camp + 37. coming out

sam and josh are nineteen years old, but they’ve been coming to camp since they were nine. they’ve gone from the babies of the camp to the counselors, the top of the food chain. they’ve been best camp friends for years, but it’s mostly a “we’re best friends for eight weeks out of the year, and we like each other’s instagram posts during the other forty-four, but we don’t really stay in touch because, yeah, we can call and text and facetime, but we both have lives, and it’s just not the same, you know?” this is partially due to the fact that sam lives in california and is about to be a sophomore at ucla, and josh is from connecticut and is about to be a sophomore at harvard. the bigger, unspoken reason, is that they’ve both been pining for the other for YEARS.

the kicker (because we couldn’t have a story about these two without one, now could we?) is that they’re both dumb teenagers who think the other is straight. sam has been in love with josh since they were fourteen, and josh just as long, but it took him a couple more years to come to terms with it. they’re both too afraid to say anything because they think they’ll ruin the precious friendship they have.

and so here they are at nineteen, back for the last summer they’ll ever spend in these woods, sad and a little apprehensive and so, so in love, but determined to make this the best one they’ve ever had. one of the other counselors somehow managed to sneak in a fifth of cherry vodka for each of the last-year counselors (there were only four of them, but still impressive). it’s awful, cheap as shit, but hey, nobody’s died yet, and it gets them drunk.

at the end of week one, josh and sam sit alone, very tipsy, at a dead end of one of the hiking trails they know by heart. they’ve been sitting uncharacteristically quietly for like five minutes, and josh decides he has nothing left to lose. he’s going to tell sam how he feels. if sam doesn’t take it well... well, it’s seven more awkward weeks and then they never have to see each other again. before he can say anything, though, sam just blurts out “listen, i’ve been sitting on this for, like, four summers now, but i’m in love with you.” josh is absolutely stunned. “sam... i didn’t even know you liked guys.” “it’s not really public information.” it takes josh another minute to collect his thoughts, but he finds his words eventually. “i mean, i would say it’s good thing you told me because i’m in love with you, too.”

so they date in secret that summer. it’s everything a summer romance should be: passionate, emotional, ephemeral. they try long-distance for a few months when they go back to college, but it just doesn’t really work out. they meet halfway over winter break and spend three days in iowa, knowing that they’re saying goodbye. they agree to at least stay vaguely connected on social media, and to not close the door permanently. you know, just in case.

sam publicly comes out the following november, and josh the june after that. they send each other pretty generic “hey, i’m proud of you” messages, but that’s the last they really talk for a while.

eight years down the line, sam’s on the fast track to becoming a junior partner at gage whitney pace, and josh is helping run grassroots campaigns anywhere they’ll hire him. when a prospective new york state senator calls him, his heart stops a little because new york is where sam is, but an acceptance tumbles out of his mouth before he can think about it. he needed a job anyway. what was he going to do, turn it down?

after josh has been there a few days, he drops by sam’s office. not in the middle of the morning, interrupting his meeting, but at 5:30 pm. he’s half hoping sam will already be gone for the day because josh has exactly no plan (there are few things josh is scared of in a big way, but his affection for sam, still there after all those years, is one of them). sam isn’t gone, though, and his assistant escorts josh to sam’s office and lightly shuts the door.

sam’s initial shock at seeing josh soon gives way to delight, and he comes around his desk to give josh a huge hug. and they just talk for a while, catching up on the past eight years. sam, at first, leans back against his desk, josh wandering around his office (and, oh, how it reminds sam of all those summers--sam would sit on the bottom bunk, josh pacing the wooden cabin floors in front of him and talking more with his arms than his voice).

eventually, a half-baked plan pops into josh’s mind, and once again, before he can think about it, he’s standing completely still, but a foot away from sam, and the words “are you seeing anyone?” come out of his mouth. sam looks at josh for a moment and slowly shakes his head no.

josh takes another step closer, and sam stands up fully. they’re at eye level now, so, so close, and josh is struck by sam’s eyes, just as blue as they were when he was nine years old. something distant in the back of josh’s mind knows that anyone could walk in and see them inches apart, but he doesn’t care.

with a last burst of courage, he leans forward and kisses sam. it’s soft, tentative, but not unreciprocated. sam pulls away soon, though.

“not here,” he whispers. “you wanna go get dinner?”

they get dinner, and they go back to sam’s apartment. sam lends josh a t-shirt and sweatpants and curls into josh’s side when they go to bed. the years have changed a lot, but not how they fit together.

they effortlessly slip back into it, and josh starts taking more new york-based jobs. slowly, they build a life together. they get a brownstone and a dog and a marriage license, and not a day goes by without them both silently thanking god that they got drunk on terrible vodka when they were nineteen because, hey, maybe they had killer hangovers the next day, but the fact that it led to this? worth it.

color palate/vibes: every shade of green, the crystal blue of a lake. the faded orange of a camp t-shirt, worn soft by years of wear, and the steely gray of a skyscraper. shy glances and messy kisses and initials carved into a tree. secret handshakes and “love ya, man,” said at a normal volume and a whispered “i love you” after so no one else can hear.

send me two tropes and ship and i’ll tell you how i’d combine them into one story!

#oh man this one really got away from me #kamilla i really did mean to just keep this a cute summer camp romance but my brain went 'where does this go?' and i couldn't not answer it #idiots to lovers we love to see it #bianca writes the tea #bianca's two tropes #the west wing #josh lyman x sam seaborn

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 5 years ago

Text

Cherry Coke Special: Six

Bucky stopped outside his apartment door, key in his hand. The hallway was quiet but for the sound of someone singing in your apartment. At first, he thought you had your little stereo on.

But the longer he listened, the less sure he was about that. It was too bright, and there was no backing track. Just a voice. A really lovely voice.

He hesitated for a second before locking his own door and letting himself into your apartment. Ostensibly, he had a key for emergencies. But so far, those emergencies had been him bringing you dinner 3 or four nights a week instead of taking food back to his to eat alone.

And I'll rise up I'll rise like the day I'll rise up I'll rise unafraid I'll rise up And I'll do it a thousand times again And I'll rise up High like the waves I'll rise up In spite of the ache I'll rise up And I'll do it a thousand times again For you

Bucky paused in the doorway after quietly shutting the door and watched. You’re standing in the middle of the living room, still dressed in your work scrubs. And you’re putting books on a shelf. And singing.

When you stop, Bucky clears his throat quietly, “Why didn’t you ever tell me you could sing, baby?” he said fondly, crossing the floor to kiss you hello.

“I- I mean-” your cheeks color, and you worry your lip between your teeth for a second.

“What?” he says, “No one ever tells you they like your voice.”

You shrug, “All the time, but- I guess I didn’t realize anyone was listening.”

Bucky smiled a little sheepishly and pulled you closer, “Sorry,” he said, “I was leaving to get a bite to eat and figured I heard an angel singing. So, I went to investigate. Turns out, I was right.”

“Bucky-” you murmur, leaning against him. It had been a long day. A really long day. Your mom had yelled at you for at least an hour. Furious about you being pregnant on top of your current... situation, with Bucky. She refused to believe you weren’t sleeping with him.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart, huh?” he murmurs, tilting your chin up gently.

“I’m just tired,” you answer, but you lean into the touch anyway. You always get needy when you’re tired, or you don’t feel well.

Bucky hums softly and kisses your nose, “You talked to your ma today, didn’t you.” It isn’t a question. He’s seen you get like this before.

You nod, “I knew it was coming. It doesn’t really make it easier.”

He tuts softly and tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. You’d been dreading this little chat for two weeks. “What’d she say?”

“The standard stuff,” you sigh, “How could I do this to her, she knew I shouldn’t have moved to the city, Don’t expect me to help you, blah- blah- blah.”

He frowned and rubbed your back gently, “What the fuck?”

You roll your eyes, “Mama has some narcissistic tendencies... See. She’s okay with Rocky because well. That’s her firstborn. And it wasn’t till she had me that her body got “ruined.” So, yeah. It’s been this kind of thing as long as I can remember. And god help me if I point out she never married my dad.”

“That’s bullshit,” he said softly.

“Yeah, but, eventually, she’ll realize this is her first grandchild, and she’s missing out on all kinds of martyr points on Facebook.”

Bucky shakes his head, “Still gross. Let’s- let's get you some dinner, huh?”

“Bucky,” you tell him, laughing softly, “Didn’t you have plans?”

“I’m the boss, baby. I can move stuff around. And I told you. You’re my girl. I gotta take care of you. And you need to eat. It’s past dinner time, and my guys told me you didn’t eat lunch.” He kisses your nose again and smiles. “Aside from that, I’d rather spend the evening with you. You’re a lot nicer to look at than Steve.”

You nod, too tired to argue with him. Not like you want to anyway. It’s nice having someone to talk to that doesn’t have a never-ending list of things for you to do.

“I’m gonna get a shower,” you tell him, pulling away, yawning.

“Good plan,” Bucky said. He didn’t like the tension in your shoulders, “You get a shower, and I’ll make a few phone calls and get us some dinner.”

He watches you go, smiling a little. He likes this. He loves having a girl that doesn’t ask him for endless stuff. Just his time and some attention. It feels better. It feels good. And he doesn’t even mind not having sex with you. Not really. You’d told him you wanted to take it slow. Give yourself some time to heal. Get used to a world without Rory in it. And Bucky had to admit, you had a point. Seven years was a long time. Still. He figured domestic life suited him. He slept better. Hell. He slept. And he was more aware of how risky stuff was. He couldn’t help you raise a baby in jail. Well. He could, but. He didn’t want to.

So as he made his phone calls and put in a supper order as he changed clothes. It felt right. Maybe not into his pajamas. Because he didn’t wear any. But some joggers and a t-shirt. Something you could snuggle closer in without worrying about mussing his clothes. That done, he slipped back across the hall and let himself in to wait on food. He helps himself to a drink out of your fridge, a little touched that you started keeping his preferred strawberry yogurt and his favorite brand of water. He made a mental note to thank you. And put a little extra money in the account where he put your rent.

He didn’t need the money. Not really. Not like you did right now with a baby coming. But he knew you’d never agree to not paying him rent. You were already uncomfortable with paying him considerably less than his asking price. So he compromised. Kinda. He took your money but stuck it in an excellent bank account for you. He figured he’d set you up a little. Give you a safety net. That way, even if you decided this wasn’t right for you, you’d not be stuck again.

When the food arrived, he tipped the kid and set it all out on the table with plates and silverware. You weren’t a fan of eating on the couch, and you hated plastic utensils. Which, as far as riders for meals went, Bucky didn’t mind. It was kinda cute. Your insistence that meals were for talking and not watching TV. That done, he padded quietly back to your bedroom to pop his head in and let you know the food was here.

It all smelled nice. Soft, flowery, sweet smells, and steam from the shower. He paused for a second, about to say something but stopped. Cheeks turning pink. You were panting. Really panting, making those soft little kitten noises that Bucky was intimately familiar with.

“Oh,” he thought, swallowing hard. “Okay then,” he muttered, backing out slowly. Far be it from him to interrupt. Even if he’d really like to offer you a hand with that. He crept backward slowly, careful not to let on that he heard you. But in his creeping backward, he didn’t miss the soft moan of his name on your lips before you found some relief. He stopped dead in his tracks, and his prick throbbed. “Fuck me,” he whispered, forcing himself to shut the door. He had to remind himself several times that he was a gentleman. And also that he’d not been supposed to hear that. Still. It made him feel... warm. Knowing that you thought about him as you brought yourself off.

He’d thought about you a lot. Dying to see you under him writhing in pleasure and so hot for him, you burned to the touch.

He willed himself to take a deep breath and calm down before you came out. But it looked like loose pants were going to have to save the day. At least until he was safely back across the hall and could do something about it. But when you come out of the bedroom, dressed in pajama bottoms and a tank top. A bra underneath for modesty’s sake, he can’t breathe. You’re flushed from more than just the shower. And sweet. And when he looks down just a little, he softens. You’re getting a tummy.

He smiles a little and stands up to pull out your chair, “I knew you’d be cute when you started getting a tummy,” he teases, pressing a soft kiss against your temple.

You rub the swell gently and your cheeks heat, “Thankfully, my scrubs still fit because my jeans don’t. Not comfortably anyway.”

“When’s your next appointment, sweetheart?” he asked, taking his own seat. He wants to ask to touch your stomach, but he’s afraid his heart might burst.

“Friday after work,” you answer, taking a sip of water.

He nods, “Do you want me to take you?” he asked gently. He wanted to take you. You were his girl, and this was his kid as far as he was concerned.

“You don’t have to,” you murmur.

“That isn’t what I asked,” he said gently, “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to be there.”

“It’s nice to have someone to talk to,” you allow.

“Then I’ll take you,” he said, smiling. “Aside from that, I wanna ask some questions... make sure I’m taking care of you right.”

“Bucky,” you laugh, squeezing his hand, “Ribs aside because they’re still healing. I’m okay. I take my vitamins, and Sharon yells at me if I even so much as look at a box that needs to be moved at work.”

“Good,” he says around a bite of dinner, “But I still want to be sure. I want to make sure my girl is getting what she needs. Anything she needs.” He quirks an eyebrow and gestures towards your plate, but he knew. And you knew. That there were other implications. And he doesn’t miss your cheeks heating.

“You okay?” he asks, a little concerned.

“Yeah,” you murmur, taking a bite.

“You sure?” he presses.

“Yeah, just-” you pause, trying to gauge if you want to say something. “Yeah- I’m fine.”

Bucky chuckles. He hadn’t meant to press, but. Clearly, your time in the shower hadn’t done enough to relieve your feelings. “Sweetheart,” he rumbled, rubbing your thigh gently to gauge your reaction, “what do you need?”

When your breath hitches and you press your thighs together reflexively, he feels himself throb. That was- that was a response, and he’s willing to bet you’d be a blast in the sack. A real tiger when he got you going.

“I need to be laid,” you say, exhaling slowly with a soft frustrated noise.

“Oh,” he chuckled, “Why didn’t you say so?” He chances moving his hand to your stomach, rubbing lightly, “Hormones?” he teased.

“Yeah,” you say, biting your lip. You want to ask for more. You want him to tear your clothes off and fuck you on the tabletop. It’s been forever. Probably not since Rory managed to forget a condom and knock you up. And Bucky. Bucky is a beautiful man.

He tutted softly, “Y/N,” he murmured, “Let’s get you taken care of, huh? Get you calmed down, so you’re focused on food and not your clit.”

“But-” you start.

“But nothing, Doll,” he says, grinning, “What kind of guy would I be if I just left you frustrated?” He picks you up gently, “Besides, it’s good exercise,” he reminded, teasing you, “Good cardio since you can’t go running.”

“Bucky,” you whine, fingers tangling in his shirt as you bury your face in his neck. Too horny and needy to lodge any significant protest.

“At your service,” he rumbled, laying you gently on the bed before sliding off his t-shirt.

#Bucky Barnes #soft bucky #heavily implied smut #Bucky x reader #mob!bucky #Mob!AU #fluff

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years ago

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 89

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @tragiclyhip, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007

“Can you feel this?” Esme asks, as she lightly drags her fingernails down Tyler’s face. Starting just below the stitches under his eye and then stopping at the corner of his mouth

In the past forty eight hours -and following a lengthy and heated debate pitting her and Julie against the head of anesthesiology-, they’ve significantly lowered the amount of sedation being pushed through the central line. Upping the pain meds, but slowly easing the heavier drug out of his system. In twenty four they’ll cut the sedation all together; stopping it in the middle of the night while he’s asleep and then allowing both his body and brain to walk naturally. It will be hit or miss; he’ll either react calmly to full consciousness or wake to overwhelming panic and fear over his surroundings and the state of his body. And while he’s nowhere in the clear when it comes to even a partial recovery, it’s a remarkable beginning; his strength and overall health and physical condition allowing an earlier than expected start to the long and arduous healing process.

“I can feel it.”

His wakeful moments are coming more often now, yet still relatively short in duration. The pain medication and those to keep nausea at bay make him groggy and often disoriented; the quick return to exhaustion his weakened body’s response to fighting the injuries and the pain caused by them.

“A hundred percent or…?”

“A hundred percent.”

She gives a pleased smile then presses a kiss to his temple. “Good! The plastic surgeon was a bit worried; it’s deep enough that it could have messed up some of the nerves. But if you can feel it…”

“I can feel it,” he assures her. “I wouldn't lie.”

“What about this?” She scrapes her nails across the top of his eyebrow, followed by higher up onto his forehead. “And this?”

“The first one, not so good. Second one is okay.”

“Not so good as in you can’t feel it all or…?”

“It feels weird. I don’t know; kinda fuzzy. It didn’t scratch but it didn’t tickle either. Just feels...fuzzy.”

“Might take a little longer than the other spots. I’m sure it’s nothing. You want something to eat? Are you hungry?”

He glances over at the tray on the bedside table. Disgust registering on his face at the sight of the cup of extremely weak tea, a styrofoam bowl of soup, and a container of red gelatin. “Not for that. That’s not food.”

“It’s the only food you’re allowed right now. Nothing solid. I don’t make the rules, honey. I just follow them and enforce them. You should eat a little bit; get your tummy used to food again.”

He grins. “My tummy?”

“Listen, I’m used to talking to little kids about this sort of thing. I can’t turn the mommy side of me off.”

“You’re a good mommy. A really good mommy.”

“I try. You really should eat. Just a little bit. The soup doesn’t look too bad. You want to try that?”

“It looks and smells like shit. Probably tastes like it too.”

She moves to the bedside table and pops the lid of the soup; using a plastic spoon to stir and poke at the mushy, pale green concoction before placing some in her mouth. “It’s surprisingly not bad. There’s actual taste to it. I think it’s a mixture of cream of broccoli and cauliflower.”

“I don’t know if I can take your word for it. About whether it’s good or not. I’ve been living with your cooking for almost seven years.”

“And you’re alive, aren’t you? You’re a big boy; you’re not wasting away. So it can’t be THAT bad. Hang on for a second; don't move. Don’t even make a different face. “ She fishes her phone from the pocket of her hoodie; flipping open the front cover of the case and then quickly snapping a picture of him. “Thank you, husband. Now I have proof.”

“Of what? The huge fucking mess I am? How I need my wife to babysit me?”

“Don’t be like that. I am not babysitting you, I’m taking care of you. And in case you haven’t noticed, you need a bit of help right now.”

“A bit? I’ve got a tube in my dick so I can take a piss, and I’m eating baby food. Which I can’t even feed to myself. What’s next? You’re going to have to wipe my ass for me?”

“If I have to, I will. In a heartbeat. And you know why? Because I love you, you insufferable bastard. And you would do it for me; if the situation was reversed. You would, right? Take care of me like that?”

“OF course I would. You’re my girl. My wife.”

“And you’re my husband. It’s what people who love each other do. Take care of one another.”

“But I’m the man. The man is supposed to…”

“Shhh…” she lays a palm over his mouth. “...none of that toxic masculinity shit. Here, have some soup.” She removes her hand from his face and holds the spoon to his lips; the other hand cupped under his chin to catch any spills.

“That’s not soup. That’s baby food.”

“Which kept your first four children alive and helped them grow, right?”

“But I’m not a kid.”

“No. You’re not. But this is all you get right now and you need to at least eat a little bit. A few spoonfuls. It would make ME feel better; if you ate something. Happy wife, happy life. Eat the fucking soup.”

“I don’t remember you using the F word when you were feeding our babies that kind of shit.”

“I was thinking the F word. A lot. Especially when TJ used to blow raspberries when he had strained peas or green beans in his mouth. Don’t make me shove this food down your throat, Tyler James.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“I could always get one of the personal support workers do it.”

He frowns. “No.” It’s one of the things he hates the most; the thought of a complete stranger helping him with basic needs.

“Eat the goddamn soup. Please.”

He sighs heavily, reluctantly opening his mouth and then quickly shutting it again.

“Tyler…”

“Esme…”

“What is your issue with the soup?”

“Why can’t I do this for myself again?” The confusion and the forgetfulness are courtesy of the amount of medication -sedation wise- that had been pumped into his system and still continues -albeit minimally- to be administered. Once he’s fully weaned off, those issues SHOULD disappear within a couple of days.

“Because you’re not supposed to use your right arm at all and your hands shake too much. From withdrawal.”

He accepts the explanation, and the first spoonful of food. “Why can’t I use my arm?”

“You have a torn rotator cuff and a shredded labrum and a lot of scar tissue pressing on some nerves. That’s why you’re getting those pins and needles in your hand,” she explains, and gives him another helping of soup.

“Why didn’t they just fix it?”

“I didn’t want them putting you through too much once.” Her tone never changes, nor do her eyes or the expression on her face. Always patient. Gentle. Loving. “It’ll get fixed when you get home. When we get you into the hospital there.”

“When’s that?”

“I don’t know yet. Couple weeks, probably. Maybe sooner if you keep doing as well as you are. And if you keep eating your soup. Not too bad, right?”

“Tastes like shit.”

Sorry, I don’t have access to vegemite. This the one and only time I’d actually suck it up make you a vegemite sandwich AND feed it to you. And by the way, the picture I took? It’s my evidence.”

“Of what?”

“That you pout.”

“I don’t pout. That wasn’t a pout. That was a frown.”

“It was a pout. You want more? Or do you want to try the jello?”

“I’ll try it. It’s not baby food, at least.”

“Probably not real jello, either. And don’t be grumpy. I don't care how adorable it is when you are.”

“What did I tell you about the A word?”

“You’re adorable and you’ll never convince me otherwise.” She places the half eaten bowl of soup to the tray, licking the spoon clean as she returns with the gelatin.

“Don’t do that,” he teases. “I don’t want your cooties.”

“I think we’ve shared way more than cooties in the past seven years. You seem to forget I’ve had your dick in my mouth. On multiple occasions.”

“Oh trust me, I could never forget THAT. What flavour is it? What does it taste like?”

“Depends what you eat during the day. Sometimes it’s salty, sometimes it’s sweet, sometimes there’s no flavour.”

“ Not THAT. The jello.”

“I think it’s supposed to be cherry.”

“Supposed to be?”

“Shut up and try it.”

“You’re bossy. Like your daughter.”

“You like it.”

“Depends on the circumstance. You’re beautiful, by the way.”

“I look like shit. But thank you,” she pecks his lips.

“Never. You never look like shit.”

“All the ass kissing in the world won’t save you from trying the jello,” she chides.

Neither of them speak for several minutes, and when the cup of gelatin is finished, she playfully -and affectionately- ruffles his hair and places a kiss on his forehead.

“You’re a good patient. My all time favourite. Even when you’re grumpy.”

“I don’t mean to be grumpy. Not with you.”

“I know. You have any pain?”

“A little.”

“Back?”

Tyler nods.

“It’s the pressure on the wound. Lean forward a little bit.” She places a forearm against his chest for support, then moves one of the pillows further down the bed; wedging it between him and the mattress and then helping him lay back. “Better?”

“A little. You’re good at this. This nurse stuff.”

“You and the kids are the only ones I’d be able to do this with. Strangers? No thanks. Feel a little better?” She uses two fingertips to gently clear any leftover food from his lips. “Tummy okay?”

“Feels okay,” he confirms, then scowls. “Why can’t I feel my legs?”

“Nerve blocks,” she gently reminds him. “To help with the pain. You had three pretty serious surgeries done all at once. It was the best option. I didn’t want you to be in agony and I didn’t want you to be able to move and maybe hurt yourself.”

“You told them to do it?”

“I had two options. Nerve blocks, and a tube they’d put right into your spine that they could put medication through. I chose the nerve blocks.”

“Like an epidural? The other option?”

“Kind of . And seeing as you almost fainted when they gave it to me while I was in labour with Millie, I decided to spare you.”

“Good call, baby.”

“Don’t worry, I got you. Always. You feeling alright?”

“A little tired.”

“This is the longest you’ve been up. And the chattiest. I’m shocked.”

“Maybe I just like your company.”

“Well I like yours, so…” she softly kisses him.

“Will I be able to feel them again? My legs?”

“They’re going to stop with the blocks while you’re sleeping tonight. It’ll take a couple days; to get the feeling back.”

“Are you sure? That it’ll come back?”

“I’m sure, baby. This is only temporary. Just give it a couple days, okay? You trust me, right?”

“With my life. And I think it says a lot that I just let you feed me baby food. And what’s up with this stupid fucking thing?” He nods down at the metal ‘cage’ around his thigh.

“It’s helping the femur heal. It was a bad break. A VERY bad break. It was the best option to fix it.” She’s explained it all -the surgeries, the loss of feeling in his legs, the apparatus on the right one- at least a dozen times in the past twenty four hours. But she’s always the same; calm and gentle. But she hates how it makes her feel. Not having to answer the same questions over and over again, but at how confused he gets and in turn, how frustrated he becomes. And how he sometimes looks and sounds so sad and scared. Like a lost, hurting little boy.

“How long do I have to have it on for?”

“A while.”

“How long’s a while?”

“Three or four months.”

“What the fuck? Are you serious? Why so long?”

“Because your leg needs to heal. Properly. This was the best way to do it. I would have picked another way...an easier way…if they’d given me another option.”

“I’m not mad at you. Please don’t think I’m mad at you. I’m not.”

“I know you’re not.”

“I’m a fucking asshole.”

“No. You’re not. You’re scared and you’re confused. It’s okay. Don’t beat yourself up, Tyler. This is a fucked up situation.”

“I'm not scared. I’m pissed. At this whole mess. At everything that happened. And the fact that sometimes, I don’t even remember what DID happen. And I’m pissed at...at…” he frowns, unable to come up with the name.

“Nathan.”

“Yeah, him. I’m pissed at him. I swear; I am going to fucking hunt him down and kill him when I get out of here.”

“He’s already dead,” Esme gently reminds him, then puts down the railing on the left side of the bed and takes a seat beside him. “You don’t have to worry about him; he was taken care of.”

“You sure?”

“One hundred percent sure. Calm down, okay? Don’t get worked up. Especially over him. Why don’t you close your eyes and try and rest? You’ve been up for a long time.”

“I don’t want to rest. I’m tired of resting. It’ll rest when I fucking want to.”

“Don’t you get pissy with me, young man. Or I’ll never give you a sponge bath.”

“I can’t exactly enjoy your version of sponge baths with a tube in my dick. And I’m sorry. For getting pissy. I love you.”

“I know you do. And I love you. Even when you are pissy and grumpy. You’ll be getting rid of this soon too,” she lays a finger against the port of the central line. “They’re going to switch you over to a regular IV tonight. So you have to promise me that you won’t rip it out. You have a real uncanny ability of tearing your IVs out.”

“I can’t make that promise.”

“Don’t make me get them to put no-no’s on your arms. Remember when TJ split his head open?”

“The time he fell off the back deck in Telluride? Or right after we moved back to Australia and he announced he was Superman and he could fly and he launched himself over the second floor banister?”

“The Superman incident.”

“Yeah, I definitely remember that. I was home alone with him. All of them. And he did that stupid shit.”

“They had put the no-no’s on him so he wouldn’t pick at the stitches. He was so pissed! He is a TRUE junior. Not just in name, either. He is so much like you, baby. A mini you.”

“I miss him. I miss all of them.”

“I know you do. And you’ll see them soon. When you get sent to the hospital back home.”

“That’s not soon enough.”

“No. It’s not. But I knew you wouldn’t want them here or staying in Mumbai. That’s why I sent them home. It wasn’t to hurt you. Or punish you. You know that, right?”

“I know it wasn’t. I know it’s what was best for them. I just miss them. And I guess I don’t really want them seeing me this bad.”

“You actually look really good considering. And you’ll get the stitches out in three days. Are they getting itchy?”

He nods.

“You’re going to be so sexy; with your new scars.”

“You have a very weird definition of sexy.”

“You’re my definition of sexy. I don’t care how many scars you have. Would it bother you? If it was me all beat up?”

“Nope. ‘Cause you’d still be the most beautiful woman in the world to me.”

“And that’s how I feel about you. To me you’re the most beautiful man in the world.”

“Did you just really drop the B word?”

“You’re beautiful and I don’t care what you say. Fight me.”

“You’d be able to kick my ass right now. Can I get rain check?”

She sighs dramatically. “I suppose.”

“Do they know? The kids? Do they know what happened?”

“They know the basics. I didn’t give them too many details. They know daddy got hurt and that he needs to stay here until the doctors say it’s okay to send him to a hospital closer to home. Maybe when you’re fully off the sedation and you’re up to it, you can video chat with them. They would love that. And I know you would too.”

“I can do that. Are they okay? With what you told them?”

“They’re sad. A little scared. But they’ve got a lot of people around them that will reassure them that you’re going to be okay. And they’re back at school and doing pretty good. They have a lot of crafts to show you. And the principal said there’s a special school. A private one; for kids like Tanner. Gifted kids. Because he’s so smart and he’s not being challenged where he is and he deserves better than that. And we can more than afford it.”

“Do whatever you think is best for him. You know what that is. I trust you to make the right decision.”

“Both of their classes made you huge get well cards; they’ll show when you video chat with them. And they have so much to tell you.”

“I bet they do. And I can’t wait to see all of it. I miss it; that kind of stuff. I miss life in general. OUR life.”

“We’ll get back to it soon. We’ve got a lot of years ahead of us. Together.”

“Yeah…” Tyler smiles. “...we do.”

She leans down to kiss him. “Your daughter is super pissed. At me. For lying to her at first. She won’t talk to me.”

“She’ll get over it. You’re her mom. She loves you. You did what you thought was the best for her. And it was. It WAS the best thing for her.”

Esme nods in agreement, then closes her eyes and rests her head back against his chest. It’s incredible. That solid, strong body and the warmth that radiates off it, being able to both feel and hear his heart beating; the weight of his head as he rests his cheek against her hair. How even with those stitches in his left shoulder, he still manages to sneak his arm around her; hand resting on her baby bump.

“It’s getting big, huh?”

“It’s cute. Just makes you more beautiful. I can’t wait to see it; watching you get bigger with the baby. MY baby.”

“You sappy bastard you,” she teases, and tilts her head up towards him and presses a kiss to his chin. And for several minutes, neither of them speak; his hand moving in slow, smooth circles over her bump, her body relaxing against his, feeling as if she could drift off into a peaceful, well deserved nap. But it’s short lived; eyes snapping open when she feels his body tense and then begins to tremble. It’s heartbreaking; the mental anguish so clearly etched on his face, the tears that stream down his cheeks.

“Baby…” she turns to face him, laying a hand on the side of his face. “...what’s wrong?”

“Everything.”

“I know; life’s pretty shitty at this moment.”

“You’re the only thing that’s right in it. You and the baby.”

“Don’t leave out how great you’re doing. Because this is a huge right. Believe me, it is. You came so fucking close, Tyler. But you’re here and you’re doing amazing and things will only get better. And you have proved so many people wrong. That has to feel good, right?”

“It does actually.”

“I’m sorry. That you’re going through this. I’d take it all away if I could.”

“I know you would. I’m just glad you’re here. Not just here, here. But HERE. Alive. Because what he said…”

“No,” she gently orders. “We are not going to talk about that. Don’t do this to yourself. It doesn’t matter what he said. I’m here. The kids are fine. Fuck what he said. Please don’t think about that. Don’t think about him at all.”

“Hard not to. He’s the reason I’m in this fucking mess.”

“And he paid for it. Trust me, he did. So don’t give him another thought. Think about other things. Think about us. The kids. How good it’s going to be to get home. Even if it’s just to a hospital there. The one in Cairns is really nice. The ward you’ll be on? All the rooms overlook the beach. That’s perfect for you. And you’ll be able to see the kids all the time once you’re there. That’ll do you a world of good.”

He nods in agreement.

“You’re tired. You need some rest. You’ve been up a hell of a long time. I’m so proud of you. You have no idea HOW proud.”

He manages a small smile.

“You need sleep. You’ve used a lot of energy today already.”

“Doing what? Sitting on my ass?”

“It takes a lot of energy to heal. And you’ve been sleeping well; no pain for once. No bad dreams.”

“I had a good dream though. Good in a sad way.”

“About what?”

“My mum.”

“When you were a kid?”

“No. She was with OUR kids. At our house. She was on the beach with them; walking in the surf. And she looked back at me and she smiled and she was so beautiful…” his voice cracks with emotion. “...like that picture I showed you; the one when I was five. She looked just like that. And she was happy. She was SO happy. No bruises, no cuts, no old man in sight.”

“Baby…” she carefully kneels on the bed, then pushes her hands through his hair and kisses his brow. “...it’s okay.”

“I’d give anything for that dream to be real. Anything.”

“So would I, believe me.”

“After this first happened, I had a dream about her then, too. She told me not to be afraid. And I don’t know if that meant not to be afraid because I was going to be okay, or don’t be afraid to die.”

“I’m pretty sure it was the first one.”

“I didn’t want to die. But I was expecting to.”

Her heart shatters at his confession, and it takes all her willpower and strength to not cry herself. Instead, she places a hand on the back of his head and draws it down to her shoulder. Both of his arms -despite their injures and the pain and discomfort accompanying them- wrapping around her waist. His entire body shaking as he sheds enough tears for both of them.

*****

Koen and Rata take up residence in Tyler’s room while he sleeps. He can’t be left alone; panic immediately taking hold of him if he awakens and no one -especially her- is there with him. It’s the confusion and the ‘fog’ caused by the weaning of the sedation and the increase of pain meds; his brain not allowing him to remember where he is, why he’s there, or that she is even alive. Torturing him with the last thing ever said to him inside the storage facility; the promise that Asif’s people would get to her and the children, torture them, then kill them.

She goes to lunch with Sanjib and two others from the ICU ‘family’, a young woman whose brand new husband had been in a horrific car accident, and an elderly man whose only surviving relative -a great grandson in his twenties- had overdosed on a near lethal combination of street drugs. And it makes her blood run cold when the latter situation leads to talk of Amir Asif and his long standing -despite his death- reputation as the biggest and most evil drug lord in Bangladesh history. She offers no comment or opinion; not revealing her own seven year long tie to the man in question or her connection to the infamous ‘shoot out’ on the Sultana Kamal Bridge or the now well known incident three days before. She acts oblivious to it all; pretending to both listen intently and concentrate on her food. The conversation makes her feel nauseous and anxious; internally screaming about the false information and pure speculation being spread around the table. Desperately wanting to set the record straight yet knowing it isn’t her battle to fight anymore; the last of Asif’s men dead, their demise hopefully ending his posthumous reign of terror. It’s hard not to share her personal -and very accurate- account of what happened seven years ago; the memories and the images still so vivid and fresh. She is still able to to remember certain moments right down to the very second; recall conversations word for word. But it would be for nothing; stirring up a hornet’s nest that’s better left to wither and rot. That chances are good that she won’t be believed; her lunch companions would laugh it off and accuse her of lying and she’d be left with the anxiety or reliving the nightmare in the first place . And she’s thankful when the conversation changes to other matters; world news and celebrity gossip.

“I almost forgot what it feels like,” Sanjib says, as they slowly make their way back to the hospital; a two block journey from the small dinner they’d converged on. “The sun on my face. The breeze in my air.”

“I almost forgot what it was like to wear real clothes,” Esme quips. “ARE leggings considered real clothes? Real pants? Because none of my shorts or my jeans fit. I can’t even get them over my stomach, let alone closed and done up. I am not amused.”

“Real clothes are whatever you feel most comfortable in. My wife always says that; when someone complains about her choice of casual attire. How far along are you?”

“I don’t even know. We were in Mumbai when we found out about this little bean. It’s what we call them; when I’m pregnant. Little bean. Or beans, for the twins.”

“That’s very cute.”

“My husband started it; after the very first ultrasound with our daughter. He said she looked like a little bean and it stuck. I can’t be anymore than thirteen weeks; it’s mathematically and biologically impossible. That’s the first time we...you know...after our last baby was born. And she was three weeks then , so…”

“It was a surprise? This baby?”

“Very much a surprise. In more ways than one. None of our kids were really planned, though. Declan in a way, I guess. That’s number four. We had a miscarriage between him and his older brothers; that’s why there’s three and a bit years between them. It did a lot of damage to both of us; mentally speaking. It took us a while to be ready to try again. But it happened quickly when we decided to go for it.”

“Do you have a preference? Boy or girl?”

“If I’m totally honest, I do. I want a boy. Our daughter Millie is six, and none of my boys have been as difficult as her. I love her to death; she’s my first and she’s beautiful and incredible. But holy crap! The drama! And the attitude! She’s just...I don’t know...she’s just extra. Do they use that word here? Extra?”

“Sometimes.”

“Well let me tell you , she is very extra! The pre-teen and years are going to be brutal. My husband wants a boy, too. Although it doesn’t really matter that much to him; he’s very ‘as long as momma and baby are healthy’. That’s all he really cares about. He worries about me. All the time. Even now. No matter what he’s going through...how brutal it is...he always puts me first. He’s pretty incredible that way. Actually, he’s pretty incredible in a lot of ways.”

“He sounds like a good man.”

“He is. He really is. He’s big and he’s tough and he can be pretty intimidating IF he wants to be, but he’s got a huge heart. When he loves, he loves huge. You should come into the room sometime and meet him; when he’s up to it. I think you’d really like him. He’s a little tough on the outside, but I promise he’s pretty tame. Unless you’re threatening his family. THAT doesn’t go over well. He’s not afraid to defend and fight for what’s his. Or stand up for what’s right.”

“I’d like to meet him. He sounds…interesting.”

“He is. In his own way. People are always surprised when they get to know him. They look at him and assume things about him. Some ARE true, mind you. When you do meet him, you’ll see what I mean. He’s a study in contradiction. I learned that real quick. And I think it’s what made me fall in love with him in the first place.”

“And you met working?”

“We did. We were assigned to the same job. Just the two of us. Things took off from there. It’s kind of strange and a little complicated; the hows and the whys.”

“Try me. I’d like to hear it.”

“You sure? It’s a dandy. I don’t tell many people.”

“How bad could it be?”

“It’s not that it’s bad. It’s just...surprising.”

“I’d like to hear it.”

“Alright. Keep in mind, this is something I don’t just don’t tell everyone. You’ll understand why when I DO tell you. No one ever expects it.” Sighing, she takes a sip from the plastic cup of iced coffee in her possession. “Tyler...my husband...is a mercenary.”

Sanjib stares down at her, both eyebrows arched.

“Right?” Esme laughs. “I said it was surprising. That’s not what you thought I was going to say, was it.”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Well he is. A mercenary. And we met on the job. Here in Dhaka. Well, we technically met in Australia, but everything between us started here.”

“You’re one as well?”

“No. I’m not. I never have been. My job was to help guys like him information they needed; about people they’re after. And this job we were on was a little different than most. We actually had to pretend we were married. That’s how it all started. How WE started. We met and things happened while we were working together and well…seven years and five kids….” she lays a hand on her bump. “...SIX kids later, here we are. My fake husband became my real husband.”

“Now I’m even more curious. What kind of job?”

“I had to help him find where a fourteen year old boy was being held. Amir Asif took him.”

“You’re talking about Ovi Mahajan's son?”

She nods.

“I was just a boy when that happened. Only sixteen. Forgive me, but how old ARE you?”

“Old enough to have almost six kids and an almost forty two year old husband. But if you thought I was younger, thank you. My ego needed that.”

“So you did know. About what we were talking about at lunch.”

“Yeah, I did. And I wanted to say something and clear some things up, but it wouldn’t have done any good. It just would have stirred up a lot of bad things for me. A lot of bad memories. Things I can’t seem to let go of. And it wasn’t entirely wrong; what you guys were talking about. We DID cause a big old mess on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. That was all us.”

“You were there. On the bridge?”

“I was. I pretty much heard and saw everything that went down. It’s pretty accurate; the way it was described at lunch. But the man who got the boy out…who was responsible for it...he is very much alive. And I’m very much married to him. He got off the bridge. Barely. But he did.”

“I’m sorry. The stories have all been the same. That he died. On the bridge. If I’d known…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, and in a way, that’s what we wanted; people to think he died. It meant they wouldn’t come looking for him. Which in turn meant I was safe, too. And eventually our little girl. It worked for a while, but they...Asif’s people...figured it out. And they found us and made our lives hell and we’ve pretty much spent the last seven years worrying about when they’d physically come after us. Always wondering IF they would. And they did. They came hard. They teamed up with Mahajan and they took people we care about. And that’s what happened four days ago. I know it’s been all over the news. The bloodbath at the storage facility north of here. About all the bodies; Asif’s people.”

“That was you?”

“Well not me per say, but yeah. It was. They did and said horrible things. About me. About my children. Things they would do to my daughters. My little girls. They’re six and four months, and these people were going to hurt them. In ways that physically make me sick to think about. I can handle what’s said about me. I’ve had bigger and better threaten me. But those are my kids. My babies. And when I think about what could have happened…”

“I’m sorry.” Sanjib says, and lays a comforting hand on her back. “I didn’t…”

“My husband isn’t usually about revenge. He’s the one always giving me shit when I talk about wanting it. But he won’t back down when people are threatening his family. Especially his children. He will fight to the death for them; no questions asked. And that’s almost what happened. They almost DID kill him. That’s what happened; in that storage place. He got our friends out and he got the revenge he wanted. That I wanted. I told him to do whatever he had to make them pay. And now look. Look what happened to him. He’s paid too high a price. Way too high.”

“He was protecting you. And your children.”

“It’s still too high. These people are merciless. But they didn’t expect him to be even more so. So that’s what happened. That’s why we’re here. That’s why we were here seven years ago. Because Amir Asif...alive OR dead...won’t leave us alone. He won’t let us rest.”

****

She returns to the hospital an hour and a half after she left; emotionally drained following the emotional conversation with Sanjib, but somehow feeling lighter. It felt good; as if some of the burdens and the lingering horror of seven years ago had been stripped away, making her feel lighter and more optimistic. It’s a relief; getting it off of her chest. Able to finally vent to someone without the fear of judgment; able to just let go of some of the things that have been holding her back and weighing her down. It will be different this time; when they get home. She’ll finally be able to let it all go. To let the memories of seven years ago become just that; memories. No more dwelling on the mistakes made or the decisions that could have been different. No more nightmares and vivid recollections of that final twenty minutes on the bridge; holding a dying man in her arms and putting her fingers through the hole in his neck in a desperate attempt to keep him alive.

This time when she leaves Dhaka, she’s leaving it behind for good.

“You missed some excitement,” Koen says in a way of greeting when she steps into the room, slipping out of the bedside chair with a loud yawn and a languorous stretch.

She sets her purse and a take out container of food on the window ledge. “ I don’t really don't want to know do I.”

“You never told me about that drongo’s apprehension when it comes to strangers touching him.”

“Oh no…” she glances towards Tyler; fast asleep, hair damp and his beard trimmed. “...please tell me they didn’t send a PSW in here.”

“They sure as shit did.”

“I specifically told them NOT to send in someone. It’s written right in his chart; no one is to come in here and force their services on him. How bad did it get?”

“Bad enough they wanted to sedate AND restrain him. Seems like these blokes don’t know how to take no for an answer; no matter how big and strong the guy is that keeps saying no. All those drugs in him and all those injuries, and that fucker fought with the strength of ten men. Took me and Rata and two orderlies to hold him down. Just to get his hair washed and his beard trimmed.”

“Was he sleeping? Did they wake him up to do it?”

Koen nods.

“That’s why he freaked out. When he wakes up he’s disoriented. He’s confused and he’s scared and being in a hospital freaks him out. He has to take meds when I go into labour; so he’s calm enough to walk through the front door and he can see his child being born. It’s his fight or flight. And he chooses fight. Every damn time.”

“Color me surprised.”

“He was probably losing it because I wasn’t here, right?”

“He was upset; pretty certain you were dead. No matter how many times we told him you were fine and just went out for a bit. It was like he didn’t even hear us.”

“He probably didn’t. He doesn’t know what he’s doing when he’s like that. That’s what his brain does to him. And now you’ve seen it yourself. All those times you’ve got on his ass about being ‘sick in the head’ and to just ‘suck it up’. Well, now you’ve got to witness what it does to him. The PTSD. How’d he calm down?”

“They gave him some meds. Through the line thing.”

“They sedated him? Are you fucking serious right now? You didn’t say anything?”

“They said it was just a little something to calm his nerves. And it worked; that poor PSW was able to get shit done.”

“Yeah, and now look. He’s out. We are trying to wean him off sedation. Not give him more. Jesus Christ. This is what I wanted. I told them not to give him anything. Why didn’t you call me? I would have come back right away. He would have been fine when I got here. I would have been able to calm him down. Now…” she gestures towards the bed. “...he’s out again. Not what I wanted.”

“I didn’t know that. If I’d known…”

“It’s not your fault. It’s theirs. They were told not to send anyone in here. I said I would do it. I’d wash his hair, cut it if he wanted, trim his beard. He was fine with that. He wanted ME to do it. And then they totally go against that? What the fuck?”

“Sorry, sunshine,” he presses a kiss to her cheek and gives her shoulder a squeeze. “Didn’t mean to shit on your parade.”

“Where did Rata go? Did he get scared off?”

“Once again, he saw something he liked. This time it WAS a brunette.”

“I thought he had a girlfriend?”

“They broke up when he agreed to become a merc. The world’s his oyster now.”

She gives a derisive snort and rolls her eyes.

“I’m going to get a drink. A stiff one.”

“There’s a bar in this hospital?”

“No. But there’s a mini one in my hotel room. Need me to bring you anything?”

“Some tequila would be nice, but seeing as I have this inside of me…” she lays her hands on the sides of her bump. “...I’m shit out of luck.”

“Shouldn’t have let something else inside you and it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Very cute,” she grumbles, and he playfully tousles her hair before heading from the room.

Esme toes off her running shoes and then slips into the bedside chair; leaning back and putting her feet on the mattress.

“You just had to be difficult didn’t you,” she lightly scolds her sleeping husband. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you here. And I’m sorry that they sent someone in here AND they gave you meds. That is not what I wanted. At all. I don’t blame you for being pissed. I don’t like strangers touching me, either. I met someone nice here though; another ICU family member. Just a young guy; his wife had a stroke giving birth to their first kid. Remember how scared we were just because I bled a little too much with Millie? We thought THAT was scary. Or even when my blood pressure went up with the twins. We thought THAT was bad. But this? Having a stroke while giving birth? What the hell? How can the universe allow that to happen? Bring a baby into the world but take its mom at the same time? Can you imagine? You’d be a basket case and burn the whole fucking place down if something like that happened to me. And this poor guy…this new father…” she shakes her head and fights back her tears. “...it’s just so sad. His wife probably won’t make it and he’s got this beautiful baby girl at home. Maybe when you’re up to it, you can meet him and talk to him. A little dad to dad chat. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

She sighs heavily, then runs her hands over and along her bump. “I need to be honest about something. Either this baby is going to weigh over ten pounds or there is more than one. And if it’s over ten pounds, I’m doing a home vasectomy on you. That way I’m guaranteed no more surprises. We haven’t used any of those knives from the set your dad gave as a wedding present. I bet one of those bad boys could do the trick. But, on the bright side, I brought you REAL soup for dinner. Sweet potato and thyme. It’s delicious. I made them puree it really good. I felt you deserved better than glorified baby food. I hope you wake up soon. I miss you. As corny as that sounds. I know we just talked like two hours ago, but I miss being able to talk to you whenever I want. I miss spending time with you. REAL time. Not like this.”

She slides further down into the seat and moves her feet further onto the bed, until her toes touch the side of his thigh. And she closes her eyes as she leans her head back against the chair; minutes away from sleep when a light knock comes to the door.

“Holy shit!” She can’t hold the cry that escapes from her mouth, the chair being pushed back from the bed as she hurries towards the unexpected visitor. “What are you doing here?!”

“Thought you might fancy a visit.”

“Oh my God...Andy…” She throws her arms around his torso and buries her face in her chest; not bothering to restrain the tears that flow from her eyes. “...what the hell? What…?”

He chuckles and embraces her warmly. “None of that now. No tears. Unless they’re happy ones.”

“Happy and surprised ones,” she says, and he cradles her face in his hands as she looks up at him. “What are you doing here? In Dhaka?”

“Thought I’d come and see how things were. How the two of you are doing. I’m an artist when I feel like it; I have a lot of time on my hands.” He presses a kiss to each of her cheeks. “How are you?”

“Right this second? Shocked. I can’t believe you’re here. We just talked two days ago.”

“And after I hung up, I decided to come here. Thought you could use another someone. A different face.”

“I can’t believe you came here...all this way...for us.”

“That’s what friends do, right? They make a way to get to each other. I made a way. Here I am. How is he?”

“Amazing, actually. He’s doing really well. Proving a lot of people wrong, that’s for sure. You can come in. He’s having more wakeful moments. He might wake up if he knows you’re here.”

“Let him rest. He needs it. Come with me….” he slips behind her, then places his hands on her shoulders and steers her out of her room. “...I have something to show you. Go out now; into the hall.”

“What are you up to?” She laughs, then glances left to right when she steps out onto the hall. “What do you have to show me?”

“Over here…” he lays his hands against the side of her face and turns her head to the right. “...the nurses station. Look there.”

“What about it? A nurse is holding a baby and the rest of them are gathered and their ovaries are exploding at how cute the baby is. Why…” her voice trails off, eyes widening and a hand moving up to cover her mouth. “...is that MY baby?”

“Someone missed their momma just as much their momma missed them.”

“Oh my God...Addie…” It comes out as a choked whisper, and she breaks away from her friend and rushes over to the nurse’s station.

“She’s beautiful,” the young nurse holding the infant hands her over to her mother. “And tiny.”

“Thank you. Oh my God...Adeline...” she manages through her sob of relief, and settles Addie along her arm, Managing a laugh at the sight of the custom made onesie the baby sports; DADDY’S LITTLE PEANUT written across it in pink and purple glitter. “Addie…” she presses a kiss to her daughter’s forehead and runs her fingers through that soft dark hair, smiling when the baby flashes one of her own and reaches for Esme’s hair. “...I missed you. I missed you so much. I was worried you’d forget me.”

“You’re her momma,” Andy says as he joins her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. “She could never forget you.”

“Ovi was supposed to bring her. Tomorrow. What…?”

“Change of plans. I have a room across the street. If you want to stay here at night, she can stay there with me. I’m a dad; I know what I’m doing.”

“Thank you. You have no idea how badly I needed to see her. To be with her. I could never, ever thank you enough. Or repay you.”

“That smile is all the payment and thanks I’d ever need,” he says, then drops a kiss on the top of her head and leads her back to the room.

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Tyler Rake fan fic

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psychospeak-blog · 6 years ago

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Won’t Go Slowly // 63

One // Two // Three // Four // Five // Six // Seven // Eight // Nine // Ten // Eleven // Twelve // Thirteen // Fourteen // Fifteen // Sixteen // Seventeen // Eighteen // Nineteen// Twenty // Twenty One // Twenty Two // Twenty Three // Twenty Four// Twenty Five // Twenty Six // Twenty Seven // Twenty Eight // Twenty Nine // Thirty // Thirty One // Thirty Two // Thirty Three // Thirty Four// Thirty Five // Thirty Six // Thirty Seven // Thirty Eight // Thirty Nine // Forty // Forty One // Forty Two // Forty Three // Forty Four // Forty Five // Forty Six // Forty Seven // Forty Eight // Forty Nine // Fifty // Fifty One // Fifty Two // Fifty Three // Fifty Four // Fifty Five // Fifty Six // Fifty Seven // Fifty Eight // Fifty Nine // Sixty // Sixty One // Sixty Two A/N: Thanks to @hockeyandstuff91 as always for her help! This is so STUPID long, I’m sorry guys, but I could not find a natural break for this one.

Warning: Smut near the end because Tyler can’t stop and he’s the reason this is so long really.

One of the major changes that you'd noticed since having a kid was that holidays mattered to you a lot more than they used to, even the ones that you'd typically see as just a day off to hang out with your friends or family, which was exactly how you usually saw Canada Day.

You wiped your hand on the tea towel when you heard your phone buzz, pulling it to you.

Tyler: What the fuck is Bocconcini?

You: It's like little balls of mozzarella cheese.

Tyler: Cheese balls?

You: It should be by the feta cheese

Tyler: What's feta cheese?

You: You can ask someone if you can't find it

Tyler: I would if I knew how to pronounce it

A couple minutes later though he sent you a kissy face and you'd assumed he found it, sending him back a quick "Love you" message, your hand going to cradle Bentley's head as you turned, looking down at his smiling face.

"Oh, is Gerry kissing your foot? Does that feel funny?"

You raised your knee as Gerry jumped up excitedly. "Oh, don't jump when I have the baby, please. Sit," you said, Gerry sitting, and then walking his paws out so he was laying down, looking up at you with his tail still wagging. "Good boy," you said, gathering him another piece of watermelon, and then you had to give one to Cash and Marshall, too. You ran your finger over the raised red bumps on his cheek, trying to see if the little rash he'd woken up with this morning was bothering him at all. You'd put balm on it earlier, before you'd left the house, but of course you'd left it next to the change pad in his bedroom, with everything you had to remember to pack up before you came over to Tyler's. Luckily, though, Tyler said he would go back and grab it when he went to get the few last minute things you'd agreed to pick up today.

Once you'd finished with your watermelon, you started on making guacamole and dip for the veggies, washing extra tomatoes so you'd be ready to go by the time Tyler got home with the cheese. When Bentley started whining and rooting in your chest, you merely just shifted, adjusting him and yourself so he could nurse while you continued to do what you've been doing until Tyler got home.

"I got your ball cheese," he said, grocery bags in hand as he pushed his sunglasses up, leaning in to kiss you.

"Thank you," you laughed, and Tyler smiled an affirmation, turning to unpack the groceries and put them away in the fridge, laughing.

"Did you cup the watermelon up into maple leafs?"

"Yeah, aren't they cute?" you said, looking over your shoulder at him. "Oh, did you get the ketchup chips?"

"Yes, but I don't really know why you wanted them, nobody likes ketchup chips anyways."

"They're Canadian," you said.

"Yeah, I know, and so is the clamato juice," Tyler said, turning to look at you, and then frowning, his eyes drifting downwards. "Is he on your boob?"

"He's eating," you said, your hand moving behind Bentley's head. "He got hungry."

"Yeah, well I know what he's doing, I just thought he was just chilling in there," Tyler laughed, "I've never seen you feeding him standing up like that before."

"I haven't, this is the first time we tried it," you said, grinning and holding your hands up, swaying side to side just a bit. "I like it."

"Because you can multitask?"

"Yeah, its awesome," you said, going to start making your red and white skewers with the bocconcini and tomatoes, Tyler giggling. "What is he doing?"

"He's giving me the side eye," Tyler said, continuing to laugh.

"Well he probably knows you're home, he can hear your voice," you said, "He's just too busy to say hi right now."

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to be talking to anyone if I had a tit in my mouth either," Tyler grinned, and you shook your head.

"Do you have to make a comment every time I breastfeed him?"

"Mhmm..." Tyler said, leaning around you for a cherry tomato, popping it in his mouth. "You look damn beautiful when you feed him."

"Tyler," you said, looking at his deep, and honest, and loving eyes.

"It's true," Tyler said, smiling at you. "Also, I'm really not mad about the fact that I get to come home and your boobs are out."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," you laughed.

"No, but look at him, he's all cuddled up," Tyler said, grabbing yet another tomato. "I grabbed his lotion, by the way. Has he been okay when I was gone?"

"Yeah, he's just been hanging out with me," you said, "I think I need to get him out of here when he's done eating though, he feels like he's getting warm. Maybe it's like a heat rash?"

"Well, it's probably fine if he's not scratching at it."

"I don't even know if he knows how to scratch himself though."

"I mean, I guess," Tyler said, scratching his head, "I just feel like if he was uncomfortable, he'd be crying."

"Yeah..." you said slowly, looking down, and then back up at Tyler. "He had a bit of a rash after he was born, but it went away. It could be something I'm eating, too."

"Babe, you've eaten the same thing all week," Tyler said, opening the fridge once more and then looking back at you. "We'll just keep an eye on it and if it's still bothering him tomorrow, then we'll call the doctor and see what they say."

"Okay," you said, smiling because he could calm you down, just like that. He knew just what to say, the solidity with which he could make a decision. "Are you hungry? There's lots in the fridge."

"No, I'll wait," Tyler said, giving you a boyish grin. "It looks amazing, though. What do you want me to do to help?"

"Umm..." you said, looking over the kitchen, feeling surprisingly in control. "You could put the plates and glasses and everything outside?"

"I already got that covered," Tyler said, reaching into one of his bags and pulling out paper plates and cups, tossing them onto the kitchen table, Gerry following them with his gaze like he thought for a moment they were a toy. "You want to play?" Tyler asked, bounding like an excited puppy himself, and Gerry repeated the action, jumping up on him, with Tyler laughing. "Hey, you know where the cooler is? I should put the ice and drinks in there."

"How would I know where your cooler is?"

"You know where everything is," he said matter of factly, bending down to pet the dogs, and now you felt like you actually had seen it somewhere.

"Oh, its in the garage," you said, "On the left. I saw it when I was getting the Christmas tree."

"See, I told you you knew where it was," Tyler said, leaning around you from behind, kissing your cheek, and then resting his chin on your shoulder. "Hey, bud, what's up? How was the milk?"

"I think he had too much," you said, grabbing a cloth of the table to wipe his face off around the gummy smile he was giving Tyler.

"Milk drunk, everyday," Tyler said, "you guys need anything before I go grab the cooler?"

"No, I'm just going to- oh," you said, as Bentley just decided that he wanted to latch back on and Tyler started giggling.

"Apparently he's not done yet."

"Yeah, I guess not."

"C'mon, Ger, let's go," Tyler said, Gerry following Tyler to the garage. Although Bentley didn't feed for much longer, leading you to believe he was just restless, fixing the top of your dress and then pulling Bentley out of the baby carrier, settling him on the kitchen table, your hand against the back of his cheek, and then going to unsnap his onesie, grabbing the lotion that Tyler had left on the kitchen table, applying the balm over where his skin was irritated.

"Ummm.... where are your clothes, sir?" Tyler asked, coming back into the kitchen with Gerry at his heels.

"Sometimes you just have to take your clothes off in the kitchen."

"Yeah?" Tyler raised his eyebrows. "So you're into naked cooking, huh?"

"Ummm..." you said, "That sounds...dangerous?"

Tyler laughed, leaning over Bentley. "Yeah, his skin doesn't look like its getting worse.,"

"Does he feel hot though?"

"Babe, he doesn't have a fever, he's smiling while you're giving him a rub down, he's fine."

"No, I know he's fine," you said, "I just meant it's just a bit warm, it's summer."

"Do you want me to go grab the fan from upstairs so we can cool it off a bit in here?"

"Would you?" you asked hopefully.

"Yeah," Tyler laughed, heading upstairs, and you kept Bentley's onesie off, picking him up and walking into the living room to put Bentley in his bouncer, going over to grab the basket of toys for him that you had placed up on the bookshelf, because the dogs were constantly getting them confused with their own toys, unless Bentley actually had it. And, like he knew, Gerry went over to his toy basket, grabbing a toy out of it and squeaking it as he shook it, and Bentley cooed, raising his arm at it.

"Whatcha got?" you asked, bending down to try and grab Gerry's toy. "You got a goose?"

Gerry, however, dodged you, bowing down in front of Bentley and squeaking his toy, Bentley kicking his legs and making little noises, Gerry turning abruptly and then starting to zoom through the house.

"Where'd he go?" you asked, setting a toy down in Bentley's lap, smiling when you heard Tyler yelling at Gerry, Bentley looking up at you in surprise. "Yeah? What's he doing?"

"What is his problem?" Tyler asked, coming back down and setting the fan down, bending down to plug it in.

"Bentley was talking to him and he got really excited, they were playing."

"Yeah?" Tyler asked, "Did you tell him to bring it back? Oh no, you forgot? What are you going to do?"

"He's thinking about it," you said, watching Bentley looking at Tyler, Tyler turning on the fan and then swearing under his breath when it came on way too strongly, Bentley's eyes closing and his hair blowing back, pursing his lips, and you covered your mouth laughing at Bentley's reaction as Tyler struggled to turn it down to a less intense level.

You caught Tyler's eye, who was biting his lip trying not to laugh, leaning over to tickle Bentley's toes. "Is that better?"

"He's like, 'aww yeah'" Tyler laughed, his arms wrapping around you briefly as he passed by you back into the kitchen, where he started dumping ice into the cooler, bending over and shaking his ass back and forth, looking over his shoulder at you.

"What are you doing?" you laughed.

"You're the one looking at it."

"Well, I..." you stumbled, Tyler laughing harder.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he said, shifting his hips back and forth a couple more times before he stopped, finishing what he was doing while you finished up on your skewers, sticking them in the fridge, when you felt flicks of cold water against your arm, flying off Tyler's fingers.

"Babe!"

"Yes, babe?" Tyler grinned, continuity to flick his fingers towards you, laughing.

"Stop it," you laughed.

"No, never," he said, wrapping his arms around you from behind, planting several kisses on your cheek, rocking back and forth with as you looked out into the open living room, where Cash was stretched out in front of Bentley, Gerry on the couch with his toy, while Marshall was still hanging out in the kitchen, probably waiting to see if there would be any more snacks. Bentley looking in your general direction and smiling, repeatedly, kicking his legs as Tyler proceeded to flick more water from the ice onto you.

"It's not funny," you said, shaking your head playfully. "You're supposed to be on Mommy's side."

"No, he knows it," Tyler said, "He's a smart boy."

You moved around each other as you put together a plate of topping for the burgers, like you'd been doing this your whole life. You were adding the powdered sugar in with the cream when Bentley started crying.

"One second, baby," you called, looking over your shoulder to check that he was okay.

"I got him," Tyler said, and a few seconds later you heard Bentley settled, smiling to yourself, Tyler lifting Bentley up to sniff at his diaper, settling him into the curve of his arm, grabbing Bentley's pacifier off the table as he went. "You wanna go see what Mama's doing?"

"Hi," you said softly, "Did you want to come see the cream cheese icing?"

"Mmmm...that looks good, I think I want that for my birthday cake," Tyler said, lifting and lowering Bentley's arm, and then looking at you. "Are one year old's allowed to eat cake?"

"Of course he's getting a cake for his first birthday," you smiled, "Okay, you gonna watch it get mixed?"

You flipped the switch on the stand mixer, turning to grab a spatula from the drawer, and then going to scrape down the sides.

"Can you taste this? I don't want to have dairy until later." you asked Tyler, who just nodded and then opened his mouth wide, and you laughed, grabbing a spoon from the drawer and scooping a bit of icing onto it, holding your hand under it as you brought it to Tyler's mouth, smacking his lips together after he ate it.

"That's bomb, babe."

"Yeah? Does it need anything? Vanilla? Lemon?"

"I need to try it again," Tyler said, opening his mouth once more, and you shook your head, grabbing a clean spoon and scooping up more, "Maybe.. Maybe more vanilla?"

"Are you sure, or are you just guessing?"

"Umm.." he said, his free hand wrapping around your forearm, kissing your hand and then your lips softly.

"A little more vanilla," you agreed.

"Mhmm, that's what I said," Tyler said, and you added a little bit more, icing the cake you'd made yesterday while Tyler walked about with Bentley, shaking a toy for him, you using a toothpick to trace out the Canadian Flag design, grabbing the berries out of the fridge.

"What are you doing?" Tyler laughed, looking over your shoulder. "Are you making the cake red and white, too?"

"It's gonna be a flag," you said, filling in the areas on either side of the pan with rows of raspberries, Tyler giving you an interesting look. "It's Bentley's first Canada Day."

"Yeah," Tyler said, giving you a sly grin. "But you know he can't actually eat any of this, right?"

"I know," you said, "But I love doing stuff like this. And it's the first thing we're hosting together."

Tyler gave you a serious look. "Technically," Tyler clarified, "but you've been saving my ass for years."

"But it's more fun like this."

"Well, duh," Tyler agreed, sticking his tongue out at you. And while this was an annual thing, Tyler had made it clear he wanted things to be low key and a friendly hang-out rather than a party, with only some of your mutual friends and then some of the guys Tyler trained with.

"Everyone knows about us, right?"

0"Mhmm..." Tyler said, and you gave him a serious look, because you didn't want a repeat of when you went to Dallas, only to find out that your pregnancy was a surprise to everyone. "Sometimes the guys go out, they know I'm hanging out with my girl. And this guy."

And even though you loved the way he looked at you both, and having him home for Bentley's bedtime routine you also knew, logically, that you didn't have to spend every free minute together. "Well, you can still go out and do guy's night, you don't have to-"

"There's no such thing as guy's night," Tyler interjected.

"What do you mean there's no such thing as guy's night?"

"There's no such thing as guy's night," Tyler repeated, "there's always girls there. It's not a thing that....well, it should just be a single guy thing."

"What are you talking about? Guys can go out and -" you said, stumbling for your words, Tyler giving you an amused look. "do guy things?"

"Like try and feel someone up?" he asked, laughing before he was even done talking.

"Tyler!" you scolded, and he backed away from you giggling.

"I never said I was doing it, I'm just telling you how it is," he said, "And you're the only girl I want to feel up."

You wanted to yell his name yet again, yet you knew that was the reaction he was hoping for so you refrained. "You say the sweetest things."

"Yeah, I know," Tyler said, his eyes glinting devilishly with a smile. "But, yeah, there's just friends' nights. Which you should always come to."

"It is gonna be nice to hang out," you said, because there was no… weird tension between you anymore, where you could just both be open with your intentions.

"I know," Tyler said sincerely, "but I'm pretty sure everyone would still be happy with regular watermelon slices. They're pretty easy to impress."

"But the cake can be like a tradition," you said, "wouldn't that be so cute if next year he can help put the berries on?"

"Why not this year?" Tyler asked, his hand wrapping around Bentley's and reaching into the container of raspberries, trying to help him pick it up and then put it on the cake, resulting in about a third of the raspberry making it, the rest becoming smashed all over Bentley's hand. "This was a really, really bad idea," Tyler said, holding Bentley's arm and then proceeding to stick Bentley's fingers in his mouth, licking all the raspberry off them.

"That's -"

"A great way to clean food off a baby's fingers?" Tyler said, kissing at Bentley's fingertips, looking rather proud of himself. "Yeah, I know."

You were cut off by a rather gentle knock on the door, followed by barking as the dogs ran towards the entrance, you and Tyler looking at each other and smiling, and then calling in unison to come in, Brooke opening the door slowly as to not hit any of the dogs who were clearly waiting right behind it.

"Get her, guys," Tyler said, all three of the dogs' tails going crazy.

"Hi, hi," Brooke giggled, using her free arm to pet the dogs.

"Hi," you said, leaning over the dogs to hug her.

"I brought macaroni salad."

"That looks awesome," you said, taking it from her so you could put it in the fridge.

"Hey, Brooke," Tyler said, "How are you?"

"Good," she said, hugging Tyler and then smiling at Bentley in Tyler's arms. "Hi, Benny."

"Sorry, he is indecent," Tyler said, using his hand to shield Bentley's nipples. "I told you, dude, it's rude to invite a girl over to your house and just be waiting for her naked when she shows up."

Brooke laughed, tickling Bentley's bare belly. "Oh, that's fine, I don't mind at all."

"Well, that's interesting to know, " Tyler said, his eyebrows raised.

"His skin was irritated I wanted to get some air on it," you said, looking at your phone to see if your mom had texted you back. "My mom said to put breast milk on it."

"Breast milk?" Tyler repeated. "Like, you put it on him, not just drinking it."

"Yeah, it helps with the inflammation and its antimicrobial, it is supposed to help with everything."

"So you want me to hold him up so you can do it?" Tyler asked, "How do you want to do it?"

"How do I want to-" you repeated, and then you started laughing when you realized what he meant. "What, did you think I was just going to squirt it onto him?"

"What? How else are you going to do it?"

"Well, I was going to take some that was in the fridge and put it onto a cloth or something and pat it onto his skin," you said, connecting eyes with Brooke who had her hand over her mouth, and you could tell that she was trying not to laugh too hard.

"Okay, guys," Tyler said seriously, "How am I supposed to know that?"

"Common sense," you said, looking at Brooke who was completely losing it by now, Tyler trying to remain serious, but failing.

"It's okay," you said lovingly, patting Tyler on the cheek. "You can hold him while I put it on him."

You went into the fridge, pulling out some of the breast milk that you seemed to have in both your and Tyler's fridges now, pouring some onto one of Bentley's washcloths, softly dabbing at Bentley's cheeks and on his chest, while Tyler instructed him not to lick himself, and Brooke continued to say hello to the dogs.

"Do you guys need any help?" Brooke asked, standing up from where she was petting the dogs.

"I don't think-" Tyler said, looking at you as if he didn't quite know.

"I just need to finish decorating the cake, everything else is ready, you can help us take stuff out when people start getting here though."

"Of course," Brooke said.

"In the meantime, you can hold this guy though," Tyler said, shifting Bentley over into her arms. "He wants to be around all the action."

You smiled at Brooke grinning at Bentley, bouncing him lightly.

"Are you making a Canada flag?" Brooke asked. "That's so cute."

"Bentley and I did that one," Tyler said, pointing out the broken berry, now blended in with the rest.

"Awe, did you help, Benny?"

"He was a big help," you heard Tyler say, as you continue laying the strawberries in the centre. "Let's see."

"Wha-?" you started turning, only to get Tyler's phone right in your face, jumping back and feeling flustered immediately, like you were live on the internet, Tyler grinning at you from behind the camera, where he knew he was safe. "Let's see," he repeated, laughter in his voice. You tried to move out of the way so he could get closer, but then Tyler prompted you to lift it up and you sighed, tilting it up, Tyler bringing his phone in and then bringing his phone up to his face to watch it.

"You're fine with baby feet, right?"

"Yeah, but-"

"But what?"

"But what about me?"

“You're fine," Tyler said, shaking his head as if you were being ridiculous, grinning as he typed on his phone. "I was asking you your opinion about him, not about you."

"Can you not even tell me ahead of time that you're gonna start taking a video?"

"Nope," Tyler grinned, continuing to type on his phone.

"K, well, just don't tag me," you said.

"Why not?"

"Because then I've got so many people I don't know requesting to follow me."

"And you don't like that?" Tyler laughed, even though he full well knew the answer.

"No, I don't," you said, "and I don't like it when you take stories of me without me even having time to get prepared, either.'"

"Well, I wouldn't care if you did that to me," he grinned.

"Yeah, because it's not the same," you laughed.

"Well, if you let me tag you, then you could get more than 200 followers," Tyler grinned, bumping into you.

You rolled your eyes, looking down at Cash who was sitting immediately, looking up at Bentley in Brooke's arms, leaning against the kitchen bar, his tail thumping on the floor, and you bent down, rubbing him behind the ears.

"He's, like, looking right at him," Brooke said.

"Yeah, they're best buds," you said. "You're a good boy, huh, Cash?"

"That's so cute," she said.

"They're all good boys," Tyler said, in an embarrassingly intense baby voice, and you smiled, reaching out to touch Bentley's arm, checking the temperature of his skin.

"Should we go put your Canada Day outfit on?"

"He has a Canada Day outfit?" Tyler asked, looking at you, "Of course he has a Canada Day outfit."

"You want Auntie Brooke to come help you?" you asked Bentley, motioning for Brooke to follow you upstairs to Tyler's bedroom where you'd put Bentley's diaper bag, hearing paws following you as well as Tyler. "You can't come," you said, turning to him.

"Why not?" Tyler asked, pouting.

"Because I want it to be a surprise," you said.

"Oooh..." Tyler said, "is that why you wouldn't let me look in his bag."

"Yes," you laughed, Tyler grinning at you.

"You guys want me to grab you a drink while you're doing that?" Tyler asked, looking from Brooke to you.

"I'll have a caesar," you said, "virgin one."

"Virgin?" Tyler asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, no alcohol," you said.

"Yes, I know what you meant, obviously you're not the other type of virgin," he said, smirking, "You can drink though, and I won't."

"No, it's okay," you said, although you thought it was sweet of him to offer. "I just don't feel like it tonight. You can have a drink."

Tyler seemed to look at you, double checking that you were sure, knowing your hang up about wanting at least one of you completely sober with the baby. "Brooke?" He asked. "We have...pretty much everything."

"Ginger ale?" She asked.

"Okay, so one ginger ale and one virgin caesar," Tyler said, leaning down to grab the cooler, "are you at least gonna come help me, Ger?"

"Do you need a hand?" You asked.

"Nope, I got it," Tyler said, hoisting it up easily, whistling for Gerry while the other dogs followed you upstairs, Brooke laying Bentley down on the bed and talking to him while you reaching into the bag, pulling out his onesie his red onesie, which was made to look like a Team Canada Jersey, complete with a print of the little tie lace up.

"Look at this," you said, grinning. You'd almost bought him a onesie just to show off that it was his first Canada Day, like you'd had for his first Easter, but then you'd remembered this, and you couldn't think of anything better.

"Are you gonna play hockey, Benny?" Brooke asked, and you sat down on the bed next to him while she pulled the onesie over his head, Marshall coming to rest his head in your lap, looking up at you with soft eyes, your hand moving to rub his ears. "I can't believe you guys are together now."

"I know," you said, half dreamily, leaning back on the bed you'd spent so many nights last summer, watching your friend dress your baby, and just feeling so happy that he was loved by so many.

"Is it weird dating a professional hockey player?"

"Umm..." you said, considering it, "yes and no."

"What does that even mean?" she laughed.

"I mean, like, it's...like, he's just Tyler. He's my friend, he's still my friend."

"He's your boyfriend," Brooke clarified.

"Well, yeah, my boyfriend," you said, shaking your head. "That's still so weird to say. But, yeah, he's still Tyler. It's just...I don't know, it's kind of weird because he was my friend, and he was...just there all along. And he's still the same guy as when I met him mostly, he's just... I don't know, everything." You knew you were grinning like a maniac, too, just talking about him but you couldn't contain it, no matter how hard you tried.

"Awe," Brooke said, like her heart was melting, and you felt a little silly, like you were in a rom com, but you didn't even know that it could be like this, really.

"He's always been really dedicated and disciplined to hockey, as long as I've known him, I guess this always kind of seemed like his path, although it was surreal, kind of, but I didn't really think I'd ever be dating him, or anyone who does what he does," you said, your voice trailing off as you thought about it. It was kind of a lot, too, now, now that you let yourself actually notice just how attractive he was, and knowing how many other people just wanted to run their hands over his abs, or kiss that swell of his cheek, feeling the prickle from his beard across your lips, inhaling his aftershave, and knowing now that you could do those things whenever you wanted to. "And then I remember that he's got half a million Instagram followers, the whole social media thing- it's a bit much."

"Yeah, it is," she agreed.

"I just don't know if I want Bentley on there," you said, "and I know Tyler loves taking pictures of him, and wants to show him off, but it's just...a lot."

And, like, surprisingly you felt a little less worried about having a baby with Tyler now that you were together, because you weren't thinking about how his future girlfriends would react, or feeling like you had to keep Bentley on the down low, but you also still felt a streak of anxiety running through your body when you thought about the comments that both of them would get.

But it would come out at some point, and you weren't even entirely sure how Tyler wanted to approach this, or if he needed to talk to his manager,and it all just seemed way out of your depth.

"Well, you don't need to decide anything now," Brooke said. "You can post pictures of him whenever you want."

"No, no, I don't," you said, smiling, because all that just floated away when you were with Bentley and Tyler. "It's only been the summer, too, I'm sure things will change when the season starts."

You could still hardly even think about it though, the summer having a way of seeming both impossibly long and impossibly short, looking at Brooke who was finishing up buttoning the bottom of Bentley's onesie now. "I can't believe you're moving to Dallas," you said, still kind of in shock over the whole thing because it had materialized so fast, with her sister planning to move down there for college and then realizing she needed her sister with her, too.

"Me neither," she confessed, "it's ...kinda crazy."

"I think it'll be awesome," you said, "I'm really excited for you."

You knew the feeling well, too, because you'd gone through it last year when you decided you wanted to have a baby on your own, and you'd taken this giant leap of faith and it had been more than you ever could have hoped for.

You wanted that, for her, too.

"I'm excited," she said, "but it's going to be a big change and leaving everyone..."

"I'm sure we'll still see you lots," you said, because you could only imagine you'd be spending more time down there now. "And at least you know people there already."

"Yeah," she said, smiling and tickling Bentley under his chin, now that he was all dressed and ready to go, realizing that you'd been up there for longer than you'd intended, the door of Tyler's bedroom creaking open, Gerry pushing his way in, and you laughed.

"Did he send you up here to look for us?" You laughed, bending over to pet Gerry, his paws wet like he'd been running along the water.

"Someone's impatient to see your outfit," Brooke said to Bentley.

"Grab him, and let's go before he comes up here himself," you said, Brooke leading the way with Bentley and the dogs following behind, you sidestepping to grab the gift you had stashed behind the couch, stepping onto the deck and smiling when you saw that Tyler has stretched a blanket out under the shade of the tree for Bentley, his basket of toys laid out on the perimeter, your drinks waiting on the table.

"Do I need to close my eyes?" Tyler asked, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

"No, it's okay," you laughed, Brooke shifting Bentley in her arms so Tyler could see his outfit, Tyler turning around slowly, and then ducking his head, grinning as he leaned towards Bentley.

"Did you get a Canada jersey, bud?" Tyler asked. "Looks good on you, when'd you get that?"

"I got it at my baby shower," you said, "from one of the girls at work."

"Oh, did they know you were having a baby with a hockey player?"

"Umm..I don't think so," you laughed, "Although I took him in to visit one day, I feel like people know from looking at him, but I think that's just my thing. But everyone there was pretty enamored with you, always asking when you'd come by."

"Oh, really?" Tyler said, "Good thing you're not working this year, everyone would be jealous."

You shook your head at his cocky grin, Tyler gloating briefly, Gerry preoccupied with running around the yard. "We should take a picture of him in the Canada jersey chair," Tyler said, scooping Bentley up from Brooke, easing him into his arms, fixing his onesie as his flip flops clicked across the ground.

"You want to grab one of his blankets, babe?" Tyler asked, nodding towards the blankets laid out over the top of one of the chairs for later, one of Bentley's on top. You smiled, tucking a to the side of where he was going to sit, tucking it around so you could try to prop him up, while still seeing the inside of the chair, Tyler attempting to prop Bentley up, and then moving his hand away slowly, so he didn't tip over. "You might have to hold him up," Tyler said, and you slide your hand in the place where his had been, crouching down while Tyler was backing up with his phone raised in front of him "Make sure we can't see you."

Remaining crouched, you tried to lean away as much as possible. "I can still see you," Tyler said.

"Well, what do you expect me to do?" you asked incredulously.

"Go behind the chair," he said, and you rolled your eyes, pretty sure that he had already gotten a decent picture, Tyler laughing as you crouched down, Bentley trying to look at either you or the dogs. "Lower," he said, laughing even more, until you were just practically laying on the ground, Gerry lunging at you, his tongue flicking out of his mouth and Tyler giggling even louder, peeking through to see that he was done, and then walking around to scoop Bentley up. "Hey guys," you heard Tyler says, following him over to where Danielle and Jeremy were walking around the side of the house, going over to greet them, and then just now noticing the few little miniature Canada day flags on wooden dowels stuck around at various places to edge the yard.

"Did you get flags?" you laughed, especially with his incessant teasing earlier.

"It's his first Canada Day," Tyler said, his arms wrapping around you, pressing a kiss to your cheek and then moving his chin to your shoulder, looking at Bentley, and you turned your head, searching for Tyler's lips until he captured them with his own.

"Gerry, those are Bentley's toys," Tyler said, Gerry running off like he'd only been sniffing around them to try and play, you laying Bentley down on the blanket. "I saved one for you," Tyler said, grabbing the one of the flags, and then leaning down and tickling Bentley's face with it.

"Do you want to try and hold it? And Mommy take a picture?" Tyler asked, trying to fit the wooden dowel into Bentley's fist, encouraging his hand to try and grip it. "He's working on trying to figure out how to hold things right now," Tyler explained to the rest of the group.

"Can you say "Happy Canada Day?" You asked, leaning over him to take his picture with your phone. "Babe, can you make sure he doesn't-?" you said, taking the picture and then reaching towards Bentley when you felt he was about to drop it towards himself, but Tyler grabbed it instead, still crouched down next to Bentley.

"I was watching him," Tyler smiled up at you, because of course he was. "Let's get you something softer to play with."

Tyler tried to give him a toy but Bentley seemed more interested in just looking and wiggling around, Tyler resting his hand on your shoulders as he asked Danielle and Jeremy what they wanted to drink, going off to collect them and then passing them out, his eyebrows raised.

“What’s that?” Tyler asked, nodding towards the gift bag on the blanket, a grin on his face.

“You know what it is,” you laughed, waiting until Brooke was sitting down, passing it in front of her.

Brooke looked between the two of us, a suspicious look on her face. “That gift bag is huge guys..” She laughed.

"Well, open it," you prompted, grinning at Tyler with a knowing look, because it had been in the works for awhile. "It's from both of us."

"All three of us," Tyler added

“Aww you guys didn’t have to get me anything,” Brooke smiled, reaching into the gift bag and pulled out the contents, setting the bag next to her.

The look on Brooke’s face was priceless, a mixture of shocked and excited. Her eyes were wide open and her jaw dropped as she carefully picked up the large frame.

"We wanted to give you something to remind you of home," you said, "and for your birthday."

"It was my idea to get it framed so you don't wear it in public," Tyler added.

Brooke laughed “Think that might not go well in Dallas?” she jokingly asked Tyler.

"Nope, I'd have to pretend I didn't know you," Tyler said.

“Rude” Brooke laughed and looked back at the framed Leafs Marner jersey that was signed by Mitch Marner himself, who happened to be her favorite player. “I can’t believe you got him to sign it! And he wrote me a birthday message,” she smiled, bringing it closer to her so she could read it.

“Happy Birthday Brooke! Thanks for all the support you have given the Leafs! Hope to see you at a game soon :) - Mitch”

“There’s a card too,” you smiled at Brooke.

Brooke reached into the bag and pulled out the birthday card, opening up the envelope and reading it over. "Can't wait to see how this looks in your new place! Happy Belated Birthday Love from y/n, Tyler, Bentley, Marshall, Cash, and Gerry."

“Aww you guys,” Brooke smiled at us. Looking down at the ground, she noticed that there was a note that had fallen out of the card. “What’s this?” she asked, picking up the note.

Brooke gasped as she started reading it. “Mitch wrote me a separate note too?”

“What’s it say?” Tyler asked.

“You don’t know?”

“He told me to not read it,” Tyler laughed.

“Well it says ‘Brooke, I hope you have a great birthday, and I hope your move to Dallas goes well! When the Leafs play the Stars I will invite you to a game, don’t forget your jersey!’”

“Awe, that’s so sweet,” you said, continuing to shake Bentley’s toy for him.

“Oh! You should come down to Dallas when the Leafs play, we could all go together,” Brooke smiled, leaning forward to tickle Bentley’s belly.

“Oh, that would be so fun,” you said brightly, “We had talked about doing something like that.”

“We had?” Tyler asked, his lips pressed together and you looked at him oddly,

“Yeah, you said we could fly down with you?” you said. “Take Bentley to the aquarium? You mentioned it when I was pregnant.”

“Oh, umm, yeah…” Tyler said, running his hand over his face. “Of course you can come whenever you want. You know that."

You thought it was odd, especially that Tyler hadn’t made some comment about Bentley having to wear some Stars gear, glancing at Danielle and Brooke, who seemed to have an expression reflecting your own confusion, however, Jeremy was just sitting there much like Tyler was, like absolutely nothing was happening.

You didn't have time to contemplate it, though, because then Tyler was inching his way behind you, resting his legs on either side of yours, and repeating Bentley's babbles back to him, his lips pressing against the back of your head, encouraging you to lean against him.

"Whatcha doing? Are you playing?" You asked him,his big wide eyes staring over at you, looking at his outfit. "He needs his hockey stick, it's here, right?"

"Hmm?" Tyler murmured from behind you. "Yeah, I think it's in his basket of toys, I put everything I brought back from Dallas in there."

You started to lean forward to look for it, but Tyler just made an impatient noise, scooting closer with you, and you couldn't stop your lips from twitching up into a little smile. "I think it's at the bottom, Dani," Tyler said, and you could see her give him a bit of a look, but she couldn't really resist with Bentley being there, even when Tyler started nudging at the basket with his foot. "Can you find my hockey stick for me please, Auntie Danielle?"

"Can you hold it?" You asked him. "Yeah, good job."

"Way to go, little man," Tyler said, leaning around you with his phone to take more pictures of Bentley, the soft foam stick in his hand waving above his body. It was clearly still way too big for him, half on his body, but it was really adorable for pictures, especially because he was so excited, like he always was when he managed to grab a hold of something, even continuing to smile and chat away as the top got too heavy and came down to land on his face. "Oh, you're not supposed to high stick yourself, bud," Tyler said, the stick falling from Bentley's hand onto the blanket underneath him. "Oh yeah, just drop your stick and pretend you had nothing to do with it. The ref'll never know."

"Is that what you do?"

"No, I never get in trouble," Tyler said, "look at this face, its innocent."

"Yeah, right," you laughed

"Shush," Tyler said, leaning around and planting playful kisses on your cheek. "I know all the tricks, he won't be able to get away with anything."

"Well, by the time he's a teenager, you'll be old and out of touch."

"Ouch," Tyler managed to get out between his laughs.

"I'll be old, too," you said.

"Uh-huh, just a little bit younger than me, right?"

"I was just gonna say that!"

"Yeah, I know," Tyler laughed, his fingers intertwined with yours, resting against your leg for a moment while Bentley started making noises like he was annoyed, and then started crying.

"Oh, what's the matter?" You said, reaching for him and picking him up, settling him so he was half sitting up against you, pulling his toys over in front of him when he quieted. "Did you just want to sit up a bit?"

"Nah, he was jealous, he saw us sitting all close, he wanted in on the action, you're happy now, huh?" Tyler said, his thumb sweeping across Bentley's cheek, and then moving down as Bentley stretched his arms out, his hand falling around Tyler's wrist. "You want your stick again?" Tyler asked, trying to hand it to him but Bentley just kept his hand where it was. "Look, we can go like this," Tyler said, moving the stick around a little like he was stick handling, pushing around one of his toys a little because you assumed the stuffed puck it came with was still in the basket, Bentley screeching a little and kicking his legs. "Oh, use your feet, yeah."

You leaned around, looking at Bentley's face, hearing echoes of "awes". "He gets so excited when he does something new."

"He's so proud of himself, that's why," Tyler said, "look, Mommy, I'm learning so many new things. I think hockey's fun."

"I know," you said, your heart swelling with visions of Tyler and Bentley passing the puck round around on the hardwood floor as you make dinner, without a care in the world about scratching the floors up, the dogs chasing after the puck. "That makes mommy a bit nervous though."

"Why?" Tyler asked, half whining like he couldn’t wait to skate, half bent over, holding Bentley as if he was wiggling his skates on the ice.

"Because I don't want him to get hurt," you said, your thumb running over Bentley's arm. "I worry about him."

"Do you worry about me when I play hockey?" Tyler asked, his voice soft and sweet.

"Sometimes," you admitted, although if you were being honest with yourself, you were more worried in earlier years when Tyler seemed to not be much bigger than you, but you had recently found your eyes only watching him and his reactions when he was on the ice, like he was the only one you really cared about. "He's just so little though."

Tyler laughed, the movement echoing through you, "Well, he's like three months old, babe, he's going to get bigger," he said, "And probably he should learn to walk first. Which could be really dangerous, too."

"I know, I know," you said, "Honestly I don't think I'll be able to say no to whatever he wants to do. But I'm still going to be nervous about it."

"Yeah, I know," Tyler said, kissing the back of your head, "he's a tough guy though, aren't you? Your brothers get in your face all the time and you hold your own."

You smiled because Cash was still laid out on the edge of Bentley's blanket, Marshall stretched out by your legs on the grass, Gerry sniffing at all the toys that were out, and you felt warm from something other than the early July sun. "Are you taking a picture of us?" Tyler asked, and you looked up to see Brooke looking at you slightly sheepishly, her phone in hand.

"You guys just look so cute," Brooke said. "I had to."

"Well, duh," Tyler said, and you could feel his lips at the back of your head again. "You have to be careful though, couple of hours around this guy and your phone will be full of pictures."

It was true, though, because Tyler was just so....well, Dad-like, that he was constantly taking pictures, especially as Bentley seemed to be developing every more and more facial expressions these days, his personality starting to come out. That being said, though, you didn't have many pictures of just the three of you and you were trying to make it a point to take more, although it was mostly consisting of a selfie of the three of you in the morning in bed together in the morning, when Bentley was all happy and cute, and neither you nor Tyler quite ready to get up yet, the dogs standing over you and waiting for food. Although really what your most favourite thing to do was to keep your eyes closed when you heard Bentley making all those little noises that was signaling in he was waking up before he started crying. You were pretty sure Tyler had caught on to you faking sleep, but he still got up anyways, and you'd have to try and keep the smile from creeping across your lips as the mattress dip as Tyler got back into bed and to help Bentley wake up slowly and comfortably, and you turned over to see him laid across bare chest, his tattooed arm holding the baby in place, the sheet bunched up around Tyler's waist, Bentley's legs tucked underneath.

"You have to send me that," you said to Brooke, now.

"Yeah, well that's why I took it," she smiled back at you, typing away on her phone like she was sending it to you right now. You thought there might be an air of weirdness, as more people showed up. Even though you'd met everyone before, obviously, you'd always just been Tyler's friend from high school or his best friend, and now you were basically just always touching each other in some way, like you were just attached. But it didn't seem awkward at all, and you suspected that maybe everyone else had seen it before you had, although you were also beginning to suspect that Tyler was talking about you more at the gym than you thought. Brooke had gone off to talk to some of her co-workers who had shown up and Jeremy and Danielle were playing with Bentley, who was back laying on his blanket now, flipped over onto his belly. You shared a look with Danielle, who seemed to be looking at Jeremy more than Bentley even, knowing how even more freaking attractive Tyler seemed to you when he was interacting with that baby you'd made.

"Ger," you heard Tyler laugh, his giggle reverberating through you,holding his phone up to capture Gerry, who had somehow grabbed one of the mini flags in his mouth, excitedly running through the yard with it, the flag flapping in the wind. "What did you find, bud?"

You smiled at Gerry, attracting all the attention and loving it, Tyler's arm sweeping around you as he typed on the instastory, a bit of a wave of anxiety rising up as you saw the crazy amount of notifications pop up at the bottom, although Tyler closed Instagram fairly quickly. You didn't want to seem like the overly noisy girlfriend who wareading over his shoulder, trying to focus on petting Marshall, but his phone was right there, closer to you than it was him, and he was swiping through the pictures he'd taken of Bentley earlier, selecting a few.

"I'm just sending them to my mom, don't worry," Tyler said, like he knew what you were thinking. "I'm not posting them."

"No, I know you wouldn't," your hand sliding along his strong forearm.

"Not until you're 100% okay with it," Tyler said, softly, and gently, making you take pause.

"It's not..." you said, trying to formulate your thoughts. "People are just going to say stuff." Although, they probably already were, you just really didn't want to know anything about it.

"They might," Tyler said, "Well, actually they probably will. But it doesn't bother me. But I get that you want to protect him."

"It doesn't bother you?" you asked, turning your head to look at him.

"No," Tyler said, shaking his head, his lips pursed as if he was confused by you thought that he would be. "We talked about this before we decided to get you pregnant, babe."

Yeah, but that was before you were together, when you felt like it would be so much easier for you just to kind of hide away or whatever, and this was just absolutely so out of your depth.

"Oh, hi," you said, Bentley's grunts of effort turning into happier ones as he flipped over onto his back, looking up at you like he was surprised to see you.

"Did you hear us talking about you? Or did you just want to show everyone your new trick?" Tyler asked. "Or are you just being lazy, and you don't want to hold your head up anymore?"

"It's hard work," you said, although you were having more trouble keeping Bentley interested in tummy time now, now that he'd discovered that if he wiggled around just right he could get onto his back. "And he's got kind of a big head, it's heavy to hold up."

"Which is your fault, not mine," Tyler quipped.

"Have you seen yourself as a baby?" you asked, to which Tyler just gave a little "mhmm..", "Tyler, I will text your mother right now and get her to text me a picture of you as a baby."

"Well, you're not allowed to use my phone," Tyler laughed, "And I'm gonna hide yours."

"Oh my god."

"Don't use my mom to get embarrassing stuff on me," Tyler chided, "I don't think she's gonna have any space left for any pictures of me, she wants us to get those ones printed for her."

"Awe."

"She loves being a grandma," Tyler said, and you smiled. You'd known she would, since the moment she'd gotten over the shock of having told her. But you may have loved it even just a little bit more that Tyler loved it so much, too.

"I told you my mom is coming, right?" you asked, because now you couldn't remember, between the combination of all of you just staying up later than you should, "That's still okay, right? She'll probably just stay for dinner because she has to work tomorrow."

"Yes," Tyler said, laughing under his breath like he always did when he thought you were being a little nuts. "We said invite whoever."

"Yeah, I know," you said, "But your mom isn't coming."

"Only because she already had plans," Tyler said, "don't worry, I'll make sure she doesn't go home with anyone."

"Tyler," you laughed, shaking your head a little at the foreign idea of your mom dating or having a companion or.... "that is not what I meant."

"We've got tons of food, of course she should come hang out for dinner," Tyler said, "And I'm sure she wants to come see the baby. Everyone wants to come see you, huh?"

"Well, that's the only reason I came because I heard he was going to be here," a voice said, and you looked behind you to see Michael Del Zotto and you smiled briefly, and then Bentley was crying with his hand now in the grass and you reached down to pick him up, standing up because Gerry was now barking and jumping at you, although Bentley quieted immediately even though you were pretty sure that Gerry's nail had scratched at him, but somehow that wasn't quite as upsetting.

"What's your deal?" Tyler asked, his voice soft, leaning over you to offer Bentley his pacifier, and then his fingers easily sweeping your fallen strap to settle back on your shoulder.

"He's never touched grass before, I don't think he likes it."

"The drama," Tyler said, his thumb sweeping at Bentley's cheek even though you didn't think any tears had actually fallen. "Can you say''hi?''

Michael leaned in and Bentley smiled behind his pacifier, and you had never really been the most social person or who wanted to be the centre of attention and Tyler had, although you thought you'd kept things pretty under wraps at least when you were trying to get pregnant, and then you haven't really seen many people last summer when you were just newly pregnant, and you wondered if Tyler even talked about it with anyone, although you didn't think he had, like no one could even change his mind. "Do you want to hold him?"

"Too heavy for you?" Tyler asked.

"No," you said, passing him over.

"He's getting so big, though," Tyler said.

"He is," you agreed, swiping Bentley's hair out of the way, feeling Tyler's hands sweep soothingly over your shoulders.

"He's cute, you guys."

"Well, have you seen his mom?" Tyler asked, "He just got the good parts of me, and the everything of her."

"No, he looks like you."

"So you think I'm cute?" Tyler asked playfully.

"Yes, I think you're cute."

"Aww, thanks, babe," Tyler said, his arms moving around you even tighter, nuzzling against you, feeling him around you, while looking at your perfectly content baby.

"Are you the reason he's been so happy lately, huh?" Micheal asked, bouncing Bentley slightly.

"Half that baby, half this baby," Tyler said, his lips pressed against the back of your head.

You noticed him take a glance at the various baby paraphernalia throughout the yard. "You've got quite the set-up here."

"Mhmm...." Tyler replied nonchalantly, like this was just part of his life now, like this was the plan the whole time.

And that was the main difference, really, as your mom showed up and Tyler offered her glass of wine and she checked out the remnants of Bentley's rash, which seemed to be fading away which you were very happy to see, was that Tyler was just openly talking to your mom as she mentioned that you had gotten heat rash as a baby your first summer, too, Tyler talking about his own skin and offering to ask his mom if he'd had it too, not like before when he'd seemed like he wasn't quite sure if you'd wanted him to reveal the genetic connection or the whole relationship story about how Bentley had come to be born, just talking to your mom like he'd known the baby was fine,all along, but he trusted your mom's opinion more than he did his own, understanding why you might be worried about it.

"You are not getting a burger, Marshall," you heard Tyler says, clear from across the yard, the cutting board laid across his arm, Marshall trailing after him to the barbecue, after Tyler had insisted that he didn't need your help, and that you could just stay and hang out with the baby, Tyler shooting you little grin as he walked across the deck.

"They might be ready for dinner, babe, do you want me to-"

"I just fed him, babe," Tyler said, and you could see now that he was setting out bowls for the other dogs, somehow managing to juggle it all with now issue, continuing before you could open your mouth to speak again. "And no, he's not still hungry, I know you were giving them snacks while I was gone."

"They were being good!" You said, thankful that they'd been patient, Tyler smiling at you like he wasn't swayed by their soft brown eyes either, Bentley hearing Tyler tell Marshall to leave the other dog's food alone, to go get mom, and you called for him, Marshall trotting over and pushing his way through your extended arm, flopping onto his back and stretching his legs out, rubbing his back against the grass.

"What are you doing?" Your mom asked, briefly taking her hand off of Bentley's belly to scratch Marshall's. You smiled, running your fingers along his side and then to Cash's. "Go find Daddy, he's got food for you guys," you said, noticing your mom just giving you a little look, "What?" you asked.

"Nothing," she said, innocently enough, a hint of a smile on her face, Marshall's head settling in her lap, her hand moving easily over her head. "You're so sweet, aren't you?"

"He's sensitive," you said, because you were pretty sure that Marshall had known something was up with you last year before Tyler ever did, when you felt so confused and overwhelmed, and like everything was moving way too fast, sitting with him before you realized that Tyler would do anything to slow the world down for you.

"You look happier than I've ever seen you," your mom said, quietly, and you looked up at her, not even crying even though you still felt so damn emotional all the time, grinning just like Bentley did.

"Are you?" you asked, softly, because you realized that you'd feel a little lost without your baby, especially when she'd gotten through it with just you, when you'd really always had Tyler to rest his hands on your shoulders, to steady you when you weren't quite sure if you were doing the right thing.

"Happy?" she asked, and you nodded, quietly, her face breaking out in a soft but genuine smile. "Yeah, being a Grandma is the best. This guy is pretty special."

"He is," you smiled.

"Don't look at me like that, Mom," your sister said, "I don't care how happy it makes you, it's going to be a long, long time before I give you a grandbaby."

"I didn't say anything," your mom said in innocence, "Although I wouldn't complain..."

"We talked about having more. Not like right now, but.." you confessed, because you didn't know if you ever would, really, kind of loving the way your mom's eyes lit up and she mouthed the word "really?" and you nodded, your eyes drifting over to where Tyler was, finding his eyes looking towards you, not able to hide his smile.

"I think he misses you," Nicole said, "He keeps looking over here."

"Does he?"

"Mhmm, with straight heart eyes," your sister grinned, and you were pretty positive that Tyler had won her over, too. "You should go see him."

You looked at your mom, and then down at Bentley, who was happily batting at his toys, moving his hand by his mouth, to the point where you wondered if he was trying to put his hand in his mouth. "He'll be fine hanging out with Grandma," she said, barely taking her eyes off the baby, and you stood up, moving barefoot across the lawn, where group seemed congregated around the barbecue. Tyler was trying to tone down his eagerness at seeing you, you could tell, a smile spreading across his face as you stepped in behind him, your arms moving around his broad back, pressing you cheek against the cotton of his shirt. "Hey," he said softly, turning his lips to meet yours, the hand that didn't have the spatula in it weaving into yours.

"Hey," you responded back,everyone else kind of floating away, looking back to where your mom was with Bentley. "So I think maybe after we get back from the mountains we should drop Bentley off at my mom's house for a couple of hours? I think she'd really enjoy it."

"Yeah, yeah, we could do that," Tyler responded, turning his head to look into the yard, "And Marshall and Cash, too?"

You turned your head now, too, seeing that Marshall still had his head in your mom's lap, Cash stretched out half on the Bentley's blanket again. "Maybe, yeah," you laughed.

"I don't know what we would do with no dogs and no babies, though," Tyler said, his voice teasing. "I'm sure we could find somethin'"

You were contemplating this, because you hadn't really been apart from him after he'd been sick other than leaving him with Tyler for less than an hour while you went to the store, when Tyler swore under his breath, hurriedly moving to flip the burgers while you tried to step back, but Tyler's hand held you in place. "No, you're good, babe, I didn't burn anything," he said. "I'm really, really good at doing things with only one hand now."

"Oh, are you?"

"Mhmm..." he responded, pecking at your cheek playfully and openly, a wide smile coming across your cheeks.

"So, I guess we can do the double date thing, now?" Jeremy asked, and you laughed against Tyler, because it had been evident to Jeremy that you are Tyler were meant to be a thing before you had even gotten there, even though you hadn't really met him much.

"Not yet," Tyler said, and you pulled your head back a little in shock, because while he was super protective of the women in his life, you thought that he liked Jeremy. "I haven't gotten to take her out on a date yet."

"Yes, you have," you relented, feeling Tyler's face turn to question. "We went to the movies and the barre class, and we've gone out for milkshakes."

"Those were not really real dates."

"What is a real date, then?" you laughed.

"Mmm...like we plan ahead, I ask you out, maybe surprise you a little bit, something more special."

"You made me a picnic in Dallas, that was special."

"That was adorable," Danielle agreed, Tyler grinning proudly. "She was giddy, like, 'Tyler did the cutest thing for me, and he said it was the dogs, which made it even cuter.''"

"So you knew that was me, not the dogs?" he asked, and you laughed a little, like he was ridiculous. "Woman, I was sending you out signals left and right, I didn't think you were picking up on anything."

"I didn't know, I didn't -!" you should your head, looking at him.

"Yeah, I know," Tyler said, smiling at you, his eyes a little glassy, because it had hurt, like a lot. But you'd do it all over again. "Perfect timing and things have a funny way of working themselves out and all that shit, right?"

You smiled with a nod, which turned into a laugh when Danielle said, "It could have been a little bit sooner, if you're asking me."

"Maybe a little," Tyler agreed. "But I don't think either of us is going to be that dumb again. Anyways, like dating your best friend is awesome, but we kinda skipped over the whole dating part. And I want to take you on a real date, like nice dinner, get dressed up a bit. Bentley can third wheel, but that's it."

"Well, we can do that when we go away."

"I know, that was my plan," Tyler said, smiling at you teasing, "Don't ruin this for me, let me have my moment."

"Okay," you smiled, sliding in next to him, because you could see he wanted this, even though he already made you feel special every day, Tyler's hand moving around your side, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"You guys are going away?"

"Mhmm...next week," Tyler said. "My idea, too."

"Don't you think that's a bit soon?" Danielle asked, flashing a grin your way. "I mean, you've only been together for a couple of weeks..."

"Shut up, Danielle," Tyler replied easily, and you had to laugh, because you were pretty sure this would be something that you would kinda always be teased about.

"No, that'll be awesome, though," she said, "where are you guys going?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but Tyler spoke over you. "We'll tell all about it when we get back," he said, and you barked out a laugh.

"What? You don't want her to know where we're going?"

"It's so we can have alone time, no phones, no work, no friends, no nothing," Tyler said, and then looked back at Danielle, "I'm sorry, but I waited a long time for this, I'm going to be selfish for a bit."

You laughed at his pettiness. "She's not gonna follow us up there," you said, looking at Danielle, looking forward to it because while you'd felt totally relaxed after your trip to Dallas, Tyler had also been working, and you honestly were just really excited to actually have a real family vacation and make memories that Bentley wouldn't remember, but you would. "We're going to Quebec."

"Shh..." Tyler said, grinning against you and then kissing you all over your cheek, like he knew that would get you to shut up, Danielle just shaking her head and laughing. You wondered a bit if Tyler might try to be on his best behavior with your mom being there, like he wanted to impress her, because he offered to get your plate for you while you put yours together for your mom, because Bentley was all cuddled up on her chest, his eyes sleepy, and you knew that she was soaking up the moment. But, then again, Tyler would probably offer to do it for you anyways, pulling your chair out for you before you sit down like he'd been doing it his whole life.

"Is he sleeping?" Tyler asked, leaning around you, peeking at Bentley's cheek, pressed against your mom's shoulder.

"Yeah," she whispered, her free hand running over his head and his back.

"Kid falls asleep anywhere," Tyler said, and you laughed under your breath.

"Like you," you said, because it wasn't common for the both of them to nod off on the couch on you after you evening although Tyler typically just dozing on and off.

"I've still never fallen asleep at a hockey game," he said, smiling at you like it was a secret only you knew.

"Yet."

You mostly got lost in the conversation, the occasional dog paw on your foot, Marshall's nose sniffing at Bentley's bare foot, and then resting his head in your mom's lap, and you caught her eye, trying not to smile as snuck him a piece of meat. You noticed Tyler looking at you, but then Gerry started barking, chasing a squirrel as it ran up the tree, and then Tyler was trying not to laugh. "Shh, Ger, the baby's sleeping," he said, although Bentley just shifted a little in his sleep and then settled himself with a little sigh. "Where's Marshall?"

"He's just sleeping under the table," you said, nudging Marshall's body with your knee to try and encourage him to lie down, using your fork to scoop up a bit of the cheese and tomato, pulling it towards Tyler's mouth, him considering it as he chewed.

"That's damn good," he said.

"I know," you said, nodding confidentially, "I told you."

"You know I love your cooking," he grinned, and then lighter, "C'mhere, Marsh."

You felt Marshall shift under the table, his head coming to rest in Tyler's lap now, and you bit your lip, looking away because Marshall was still licking his lips, even as Tyler petted him. "Did Mommy give you a treat or was that Grandma?" Tyler asked. "It was Grandma, wasn't it? You're spoiled."

You couldn't say you were too surprised when Marshall, Cash, and Gerry trailed after you and Tyler when you walked your mom out to her car, although you were a little surprised by Tyler offering to pack her up a slice of cake to take home with her, since she didn't want to get home too late as she had to work tomorrow, carefully transferring Bentley back into your arms as she said goodbye.

"Oh, you're awake now," Tyler said, clearly to Bentley, picking his little hand up and waving it, "Say 'bye-bye, grandma.'"

You smiled at the way she ducked her head, waving back as she backed out of the driveway, watching her until you couldn't hear the sound of wheels against the gravel any longer, turning to Tyler and smiling and Bentley gurgled, kissing each other for no reason and all, even while Gerry was running circles around your feet. "You guys want to play?" Tyler asked, Gerry running off ahead of you like he was trying to show you the way, turning to walk back into the backyard with Tyler.

"Oh," Tyler said, Bentley's hand reaching out towards his, Tyler sliding his finger into Bentley's grip. "I was gonna hold your mom's hand. You want to hold my hand and then you can hold her hand? That's a good plan."

You laughed as Tyler kissed at Bentley's side until he smiled. "He's being so good today."

"He's always good," Tyler said, even though he most definitely had the capacity to be grumpy, and you were still trying to figure out how to deal with that on those days like today where you actually had plans for most of the day. Everyone else seemed to be hanging out around the water, so you turned Bentley around so he could face out, tucking your arm under his legs as you walked along the edge of the water, where it was shallow and warmer against your feet, rocking with Bentley back and forth to the music that was playing in the background.

"Do you see the puppies swimming?" you asked him, because while it wasn't unusual for you to spend the evening out here on the dock with Tyler and the pups, it hadn't gotten quite warm enough until recently for the dogs to go in and actually swim, rather than just playing along the shore.

"One puppy swimming," Tyler clarified, "Two puppies standing in the water doing nothing."

"Two dogs standing," you clarified Bentley smiling at Marshall's tail wagging, and you laughed at the weird dancing head bob thing that Tyler was doing.

"He likes it," Tyler said, as if he could read your mind, but really all you could think about was just how peaceful this was, even as Tyler bent over and made you smack his bum as he shook it back and forth, trying like hell to remember st summer. You usually spent it at Tyler's place, except for a summer or two when you'd been in the states with him, and then that one summer after you graduated when you'd been in Europe. But you hadn't ever remember feeling quite so content at parties like this, and now you were wondering if a part of you had wanted Tyler by your side all the time then.

"What did I do for Canada Day last year?" you asked.

"Uh, we had some people over here," Tyler said, frowning, his hand pulling a stick through the water, teasing Cash, shooting you a cheeky grin. "You and I worked on the whole trying to get you pregnant thing."

"Tyler!" you scolded with a whisper, because there were people all around you, and you weren't one for talking about your sex life publicly especially when you and Tyler had been a thing and yet not a thing last year, but he just laughed at you. And you thought he was lying, but now you could vaguely remember being in his bed, the sound of fireworks echoing around you, and then you'd woken up the next morning with your period, feeling quietly discouraged and sore, crawling back into bed with him and being thankful that you didn't bleed on his sheets, but hehel'd come home from the gym that afternoon to find you sitting in the backyard with the dogs, offering you a cupcake and a kiss on the temple without saying a word, just because he'd seen the tampon wrapper in the garbage can.

"What?" he laughed, "You asked the question. We had to work on the baby making so we could make this baby."

You opened your mouth and rhethen closed iagainai and Tyler just laughed at how flustered you were, trying to regain your focus by rocking back and forth with Bentley a little, Tyler grinning at you, and then looking at Bentley. "What's up, little man, what's up?"

He made a little delighted noise that you didn't think you'd ever heard from him before when Gerry ran through the water in front of him. "What's he doing?"

"You guys might have a lot of trouble keeping him out of the lake next year," Danielle said, and the thought of him being able to walk and run around just seemed crazy, but Tyler was looking at you like he couldn't quite wait for that, visions of letting him float around on a day like today to cool off, and then taking a nap curled up in a blanket under the shade of the tree.

"Does that sound fun?" you asked Bentley now, "Do you want to try and put your feet in? You haven't done that before. Do you think it's too cold?" You asked Tyler who just kind of quirked his lips, and then shrugged.

"Just stick his toes in right here and see what he does," Tyler said, "The worst that's gonna happen is he gets mad, and we know how to make him happy."

Marshall and Cash were now looking up at you expectantly, and probably you should have tried this before the sun was going down, but now you couldn't wait to see how he would react, your hands moving up to wrap around Bentley's chest, crouching down with him, Tyler leaning forward to fix the leg of his onesie where it was bunching up around his diaper, lowering the tops of his toes until the waves started sweeping over them, scoffing when Marshall barked for no reason. Bentley wasn't making too much noise, though, so you didn't have an indication of whether he liked it or not.

"What do you think?" You asked him, looking at Tyler who leaning down in front of him, making faces. "Does he seem okay?"

"He's thinking about it, he's a little bit like 'what are you doing to me, mom?'" Tyler said, scooping a bit of water over the tops of his feet. "You don't hate it. I think we need to take you swimming at Grandma Jackie's house, see what you think about that."

"Oh, that would be fun," you said, looking at Tyler, and kind of wanting summer to never end, sweeping Bentley's feet through the water.

"You want me to take him so you can see his face?" Tyler asked, and you nodded, easily transferring Bentley over, Tyler holding him easily with one hand splayed practically Bentley's entire body, and suddenly you couldn't think about anything other than how large Tyler's hands were, which was just....not something you should be thinking about right now.

"Good job, you're such a summer baby," you said, when Bentley's feet went back in the water without him even crying, smiling enthusiastically, running your thumb over his chubby cheek, leaning down in front of him, "There's a little smile, I love you."

"I love you, too," Tyler responded, even though you clearly were not talking to him, pressing his head next to Bentley's, "My smiling is almost as cute as his."

"Almost," you agreed, pinching your fingers together to show he was close.

"What's that weird thing you're doing with your legs, bud?" Tyler asked, Bentley starting to make that noise he did before he started to cry, Tyler pulling him out of the water and back to his chest. "Does that mean you're all done?"

"It might be a bit too cold for him," you said, reaching out to touch his feet to decide if you needed to put socks on him.

"It's not cold," Tyler said, even as he was drying Bentley's feet off with the bottom of his shirt.

"I'll go grab a towel," you said.

"Nah, it's fine," Tyler said, and his feet did actually look dry, but why Tyler always seemed to use his shirt rather than the many actual clothes you had to wipe the baby, you didn't quite know. "Say 'It's not too cold for me, Mom, I'm just taking a little breather and then I'm gonna go for a little swim."

You were about to say that you didn't think that was a good idea, because you didn't want to deal with an upset baby, especially not when you were entertaining, but Tyler just switched Bentley so he was laying down, Tyler's hands underneath him, rocking him towards the water like he was going to throw him in and then pulling him back, making this "aboo" noise as he did so, Bentley looking up at Tyler. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna throw you in the lake," Tyler said, kissing Bentley's belly. "Not until you're, what? Three? Four?"

He looked at you, and you noticed immediately the devilish look in his eye, the way his lips were starting to curl up at the sides.

"No," you said, already taking a step away from him.

"Yeah," he insisted with a whisper, nodding his head, looking behind him for someone to take the baby. "Hey, Brooke, can you hold Bentley for a sec?"

"No, Brooke, do not take him," you said, but it was too late, because she was half holding him, looking up at you slightly confused because she clearly didn't know what Tyler was plotting, reaching towards your hands which you pulled away, turning and trying to get out of the water.

"Babe, c'mhere," Tyler said, and you let out a way too girlish scream, Tyler laughing at you , feeling his hands against the side of your dress, taking off across the grass and running like you hadn't in forever, feeling light, but Tyler seemed to be taking it seriously, pumping his arms as he came after you, his arms moving hard around your waist, pulling your feet up off the ground easily, and you shifted, knocking him off balance and sending both of you tumbling onto the grass. Which, you thought would be the end of it, but that seemed to only give him an opportunity to slide his arms under you, picking you up like he was holding Bentley only a moment earlier.

"Tyler," you repeated, trying hard not to laugh, to sound stern, his knee coming up to steady your body when he stepped on the dock. "Stop."

"I'm not doing anything, just walking," he mumbled, walking down to the end of the dock where he turned to the side, turning sideways and then rocking you back and forth like he was about to throw you in. Your hand, which had been held around his neck moved down, gripping his shirt hard in your hand. "Let go of my shirt."

"No," you laughed, "Because you're gonna throw me in."

"I would never," he said, although he was trying hard now to pry your fingers off the fabric, going so far as to duck his head down and try to nudge your hand away with his face.

"Be nice," you said, although he was kissing and nuzzling at your face, your stomach contracting to try and not show your laughter.

"You're so wiggly," he said.

"Because I'm trying to get you to put me down!" you laughed.

"Oh," Tyler said, and you were so distracted by the way he gently let you slide down his body until your tiptoes reached the wood of your dock, his arm wrapped around your back as if he was trying to steady you and stop you from losing your balance and falling in, melting into his gaze against you that you realized his arm was moving out from behind you too late, reacting to his push against you with a squeal, gripping onto him with a last-ditch effort to at least pull him in with you. You were pretty sure he could have stayed on dry land for sure, and but you heard him let out a little scream as he jumped in after you, hearing the dogs barking even under the water. You couldn't be mad, though, even though you'd actually done something with your hair today for once, and you were pretty sure your light makeup was gone the moment you hit the water, not when you and Tyler seemed to surface at the same time, looking for each other, his toes gripping yours over the bottom of the lake, your lips pressing together in a smile, shutting your eyes together when Gerry ran off the dock and jumped in next to you, or the way he reached for your hand, helping you out of the water, his hand steady on your hip.

You realized that he'd made a bit of a scene, but Tyler was really only looking at you, shaking his head to get the water out of his hair, Gerry doing the same thing so they were both fluffy.

"What happened?" Brooke asked Bentley. "Mommy's all wet."

"Yeah, Mommy's silly," Tyler said , "She went swimming with her clothes on."

"Not by choice," you clarified, feeling Tyler moving around you from behind, "I didn't even pack extra clothes for me."

"You've got to have something here," Tyler said, even though you weren't entirely sure, because you hadn't been spending the nights here anymore, and you were pretty sure that everything you had in his closet was from your pre-pregnancy days. "C'mon, I'll find you something."

You checked that Brooke was okay with Bentley for a couple minutes, walking back to the house with Tyler half wrapped around your back. "You didn't have your phone in your pocket, did you?" he asked, patting at the sides of your dress, and then over your hips, sticking his hand down the top of your dress as if he was actually looking for something.

"Stop," you laughed, "It's on the table."

"I know, I checked," Tyler said proudly.

"So thoughtful of you," you said sarcastically.

"Not gonna lie, I would have just thrown you in with it anyways and got you a new one," he said, "Could you try not to get my floor wet thought, please?"

"You are such a jerk," you said, pushing at him as he laughed, Tyler catching your arm and pulling you into him.

"Mmm, you're so cute with your hair all wet," he said, a thumb sweeping across your cheek like you had a drop of water there, leaning in to press his lips softly against yours. Although, you had to admit that he too, hair wet and hanging in his face, like it always did after a shower, no matter how much he tried to push it out of his eyes.

Your hair required a lot more work that his, though, which was why you were in his ensuite bathroom, a towel wrapped around your body, trying to squeeze as much water out of your hair as possible before you pulled it back, because you didn't think Bentley would like getting a face full of wet hair when you were holding him.

"Oh," you said, when Tyler opened the door, clothes hanging from his hand. "You're not wearing any clothes."

"Well, neither are you," he scoffed, eyebrow raised up at your towel, although you were actually covered, although by now your brain had finally caught up to the reality, although you were still more used to him at least wearing shorts, it was you who seemed to be more in the various states of undress.

"I'm still not used to this whole not being just friends thing."

"Mmm..we're still friends, though," Tyler said, leaning in to kiss your bare shoulder, "It's kinda awesome to just be able to kiss you in public though, with people we actually know around."

"It is," you agreed, leaning over to kiss his actual lips, done with your feeble attempts to actual dry your hair, looking through his bathroom drawer for a scrunchie or hair tie, or anything to pull your hair back, and Tyler reached around you, feeling at the back of the drawer and pulling out a collection of hair things, including a clip that you accused your sister of borrowing and never giving back, pulling your hair back into some attempt at some type of bun, that you'd definitely have to fix, but it was worth it just to see his look of concentration in the mirror.

"I found you some tights and like a stretchy skirt," Tyler said, nodding towards the pile of clothes that he'd placed on the bathroom counter, a soft bra and boy shorts and a thong on top, which you weren't entirely sure when you would have left it here, but it was definitely yours and definitely clean. "And I just grabbed you one of my shirts cause I'd figured you'd want to be comfy."

"Do you have another shirt I can have?"

"What? You don't want to wear something that has Dallas on it?"

"No," you laughed, "Bentley's gonna want to eat soon, it's too hard to feed him with a t-shirt."

"Oh," Tyler said, "Well there's button-ups and zip-ups and stuff that would be easy to get your boobs out of. Unless they're still all at your house."

"I gave them back!" you laughed. "You've been wearing them."

"Yeah, but now you're actually my girlfriend which means you're going to steal them all back again," he said, grinning like he liked this idea, and, yet, neither of you moved to look for them or get dressed, Tyler's head resting on your shoulder, eyes connecting with yours in the mirror. "Is it bad that there's all those people out there and I'd kinda just rather hang out here with you?"

You smiled in the mirror. "We can stay in here for just a minute," you said, turning to face him, his sheepish little grin right there, your lips meeting, and you didn't think you could ever remember wanting to just kiss a boy as much as you did him, Tyler's eyes darting to where your dress and bra were hanging in the shower.

"You're not mad at me, are you?" he asked, and you shook your head, your lips still pressed together.

"I'm gonna get you back, though," you said.

"You won't," Tyler said confidently, this time his hand going to grip around the back of your head, leaning into you as you kissed, and you didn't quite know where to put your hands without this getting inappropriate, settling for trying to maintain grip on the bathroom counter behind you, but you failed fast, your hand moving to his chest and over his collarbone, pushing up onto your tiptoes to get closer, your hand moving to the nape of his neck to pull him to you. He seemed to take this as an invitation though, maybe, because then his lips were at your neck, soft but sinking into your skin and you could feel his breath change against you.

"Tyler," you said, your hand moving back over his shoulder now, like you were trying to maintain distance between your bodies. "We can't."

"Can't what?" he asked, his hands moving to rest on your hips, like he was actually oblivious.

"You know," you said.

"Well, why not?" Tyler asked, half-whiny, and yet his hands felt persistent, his eyes soft.

"Because we're supposed to be hosting."

"We did, we cooked," Tyler said, "Everybody's cool, they won't notice if we're gone for a little bit."

"We have a baby," you said, clearly, trying to look into his eyes so you could attempt to focus on anything other than your bodies being drawn together. Because, well, Tyler hit on you a damn awful lot, but when Bentley was awake it was merely playful, both of your touches being kept PG. Or maybe PG-13.

"Yeah, exactly," Tyler said, as if it was this simple. "Brooke said she's got him."

"For like five minutes while we get changed," you said.

"I can work fast," Tyler said, eyebrows raised, kissing into you, lips soft and deliberate, your hand immediately moving to the side of his torso, trying like hell to form words or at least make a noise, but it came out like more of a moan, but Tyler reluctantly disconnected his lips from yours, his hand sliding over yours where it was held against your body, looking down at you, a little smile splayed across his face.

"It's not that I don't want to," you clarified, your hand falling into his, "I just.." you said, your head nodding towards the backyard.

"You just what?"

"I just don't want to be rude," you said, your eyes moving back and forth, trying to process everything.

"No one's gonna think you're rude," Tyler said, "The kid's just off chilling, making new friends, everyone's gonna be fine if we hang out in here for a few minutes."

He was crowding into you as he spoke, although you didn't think he meant to, lips brushing against yours, once and then twice, a sigh moving from him and into you when your top lip caught over his bottom one, Tyler's lips ghosting along your jawline, and then back to your neck, hot against your ear lobe, and you became aware of the way his bare leg was slotting between yours, feeling somehow like you could move him around however you wanted, despite the fact that he so solid around you. "Okay, if you just want to hang out for a minute, you really, really, really need to go back into that bedroom and put some clothes on.

"Really?" you joked, surprising yourself at the way that you actually sounded like you had it together, despite the steady throbbing between your legs, and Tyler just tilted his head at you.

"Look, I'm sorry, but the minute we're alone and don't have to try and figure out how long he's gonna sleep for, I'm gonna just... want to do stuff to you," Tyler said, and then tilted his head in question. "Which maybe isn't the right way to say that but -"

"No," you said, standing up straight now, no longer leaning against the counter.

"No?" Tyler asked, and you just shook your head.

"No, I'm not gonna put my clothes on," you said. And probably you should have paused for a moment, for dramatic effect, to build the anticipation, but you couldn't, not with the way he looked at you like nothing else existed, your hand gripping the back of his head, pulling him into you so forcefully that your teeth bumped, just for a moment, before you got your footing, lips, falling easily into the way your lips pulled against each other, familiar and yet leaving you wanting more. Always. Tyler's hand moved to your hip, bunching with the towel that was still wrapped around you, although you could feel the knot coming loose around your chest, suddenly wanting it off as the chill you felt was replaced with a deep heat.

"Yeah?" he asked, breathless against you and barely a question.

"Yeah, we've...we've got enough time?" you said, because now you couldn't even figure out how long you had even ever been in here for.

"Probably got like twenty minutes before he wants to eat," Tyler said, his arm cradling your head, leaning over into you, lips on yours. "Since he hasn't been awake for too long."

You expected him to pull back to get that towel off your body, wanting to watch it fall off you, but instead his hands just pushed it away, his skin against yours, lips never breaking from yours, breathing into you, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you up towards him and then onto the counter, your heartbeat speeding up at the way that he was just able to move you around like you were nothing, and you knew that you could just as easily grip onto his arm and move it anywhere you wanted it, even though you could feel his muscles flexing under your small hand.

His hands were soft now though, cupping your jaw as you kissed, much more slowly and leisurely than you should be when you were supposed to be having a quick hook-up, letting out a shudder for some reason when his finger just brushed the side of your neck, every part of your skin feeling so sensitive.

"Mmm.." Tyler moaned against you, his kisses getting kind of sloppy, even though you knew for certain that he hadn't had that much to drink, lips falling the corner of your mouth before he reluctantly broke away, shooting you a little look as his lips met your shoulder, sliding over your collarbone with a dark of his tongue, dropping down your body and between your breasts, looking up at you with dark eyes. "Best view ever," he muttered, against your skin, and you lost the ability to think, your hand going to your own shoulder for anything to hold onto as he continuing his descent, lips plush against your belly and across the soft swell over your hip, followed by a scrape of his teeth as he started sucking at the skin there, your legs falling open without even realizing it other than you could feel the handle from the cabinet pressing hard into your thigh but you didn't care, your chest rising and falling as he reached for your hand, pulling it into his as he lowered himself onto his knees before you, moving your hand onto his shoulder, and then hooking his hand behind your knee, kissing his way up your inner thigh, stopping to nibble at your flesh.

"Tyler," you said, your voice coming out breathless, at the way he just made you lose your mind all at once, to the point where you couldn't even think which would normally freak you out but you didn't even care with him, although maybe you'd like to eventually get your head together, one of these times, so you could take care of him.

"Say that again," he said against your skin, his breath warm over your centre, so close, and yet you already felt like you were going to fall apart.

"Tyler?" you repeated, unsure of what he wanted you to say.

"Yeah, babe," he encouraged, kissing into your cunt like he had been your mouth, the stubble from his beard scratching between your legs but his lips curving around your clit, sucking it into his mouth, moving against you.

"God, Tyler," you said, your head moving back like you were trying to make more room for him or get a better view, and he hummed in appreciation against you, sending shockwaves throughout your body,hearing nothing other than the sound of his mouth against you, his tongue circling around your entrance, your legs shaking as your walls throbbed, wanting more. Your hand reached forward, threading through his hair, repeating his name with an unintentional tug on his hair, because suddenly you wanted nothing more than to feel him against all of you, even though your hips and legs seemed more attracted to his mouth at the moment.

"Hmm?"

"Kiss me," you said, a bit desperately, and Tyler pulled back, lips plump and red, circles of pink on his cheek, which would have been cute had you been in the mindset to process him being how adorable he could be.

"I am kissing you," Tyler said, a quick smirk before he gripped your thighs again, returning his face to its place between your legs.

"I meant...oh god..." you said, his lips and tongue moving against your clit, your hips seeking more. "I meant up here."

You weren't entirely sure if he'd heard you, the way your voice was so breathless and he kept moving against you, large hands holding you in place, finally breaking away. "You sure?" he asked, laughing under your breath, and you nodded needingly, reaching out for him, although he really didn't use you to help him up, catching you with an open mouth kiss, his skin hot against yours, finally feeling him hard against you. You held him steady with one hand clasped around his neck, the other breaking to trace over his abs, wrapping your hand around his cock, Tyler inhaling with his mouth still over yours.

"Baby, fuck..." he said, his head dropping into junction against his neck, although he continuing to make an attempt to move his lips against your skin, pressing into your touch. "You're gonna kill me," he said, like he hadn't just been kneeling on the tile floor going down on you.

"Want you inside me," you said, and Tyler made a pleading noise like he agreed, his hands frantically moving at your sides, slipping a finger between your lips and inside you and you shifted, because it still wasn't enough. "Should we....we should go to the bedroom."

Tyler panted hard, his finger still half inside you, resting his forehead against yours, and you weren't sure if it was sweat you felt against your forehead or water still dripping from his hair, but either way it was hot. "If I get you up into that bed, I don't think I'm gonna be able to leave," he admitted, and then lifted his head up slightly like he just remembered something. "But we can -"

"No, no, I'm fine," you replied, honestly, shifting on the counter. Honestly, you felt better about it, because you wouldn't be as worried about someone overhearing you this way. "I was just thinking about you."

Tyler's eyes were dark for a second, his lips quirking up. "I'll fuck you anywhere," he said, lips in your neck, "Bathroom counter...kitchen counter, floor, the bed, the couch....wherever you want."

He seemed intoxicated by the idea, getting frantic with his touch, his damn hips still not hitting into yours like you wanted.

"Please," you said, your hand grasping his bicep, trying to get his attention.

"Mmm..." Tyler said, kissing your lips quickly, stepping back. "One sec."

"Where are you-?" you said, looking at him, your hand still attached to his arm, thinking that maybe he was going to lock the bedroom door, when all you wanted him to do was just lock the bathroom door, because then you wouldn't have to not touch him.

"Grabbing the lube, baby," Tyler said and you let out a crazy laugh, your body so loose already.

"You brought it with you?" you said, although it came out like more of a declaration than a question, because it seemed so absurd to you, Tyler scrunching up his face.

"No, I didn't bring it with me," he said, laughing at you. "it's in my nightstand drawer. Like, for us, 'cause we're here a lot, and like in case you wanted to have sex while we're here."

You laughed again't, because somehow he just made this whole postpartum intimacy thing easier and because he had his head tilted sideways even as his hands ran up and down your thighs with anticipation, like you were the one who had seduced him.

"I'll be right back," he said deeply kissing you, "don't move."

You could not even consider moving, of course, starring at his ass and his hamstrings as he left, leaning back just slightly, feeling your hair where it had come undone already against your back. You wanted nothing other than to close your legs, applying pressure where you needed it, but your legs hung open in anticipation.

Tyler visibly gulped when he stepped through the doorway, hair hanging over his eyes, and for once you let your eyes run unabashedly over his body, your fingers tickling your collarbone, desperate to be touched.

"Get yourself ready for me," he said, your fingers moving between your legs without even thinking of what he said, running them through your arousal, slipping inside. They were nowhere near as big as his,but you were pressing hard against yourself, chest rising and falling, eyes glued onto his forearm and then his hand, gathering lube and stroking himself.

Blissfully, he stepped forward, moving into you, entering you in one smooth and slow stroke, a sigh falling from chest, feeling him finally fill you, your walls stretching around him.

"Fuck, so good" he whispered, and you nodding, capturing his lips in a breath, legs wrapping around him, eyes connected with yours when he started to move, slow and controlled. "Okay?"

He looked to you, of course, but his face betrayed him, eyes trying to stay open, struggling to hold back. You nodded, at a loss for words, hand sliding to clutch to him.

"Harder," you pleaded, wanting nothing more than to feel him pound into you, public bone rubbing your clit again and again, your nails scraping his back, hard and in a struggle for you both to get off. He tried to hold back, an effort to build things up slowly, his head tilted back in pleasure, trying to steadying his breathing, but you kept pulling him into you, muscles clenching around him every time he drew out, which somehow just made things even more intense, like you could feel every inch of him inside you.

"Fuck.." Tyler mumbled, "don't stop doing that."

You repeated the action, feeling high on the way that Tyler's breath was coming out in little pants and groans, trying to be quiet, his hand slipping between you, pushing your legs apart further and gripping it around his hips, and you shifting, your mouth falling open silently.

"Mmm...right there."

"Yeah," Tyler panted, fingers wrapped around the top of your thigh, keeping you there, hitting that spot over and over again, the cold counter under your ass a stark contrast to the way he was pushing into you, the heat of his body and his breath, his lips soft and even against your own and then moving around your neck, his free hand alternating between gripping the counter and roaming your body, like he just couldn't decide where to keep it, rocking into you, feeling like you couldn't possibly get any closer to him. "C'mon," he pleaded, desperately, like you weren't already close from the moment he pressed inside you, his hand gripping at your breast and you moved your head back a little at the pressure. "Sorry," he mumbled, kissing you although you were incapable of feeling pain at the moment, his hand somehow moving between your bodies, moving until his knuckles were against your clit, like he was trying to get the pads of his fingers in there to circle it, but you didn't even need it, because there was already enough friction with the movement of his body against yours. "Babe, you gotta-"

"Don't stop," you said, your eyes falling shut with the sensations, a slightly aggressive noise coming from Tyler right before his mouth moved around yours again, pushing your through the way your body was trembling, his teeth catching your lips when you as you continued to cum, his movements frantic and then stilling as he released, lips falling from yours, breathing as your felt all your muscles go deliciously relaxed, Tyler's body moving into yours, both of your satisfied breathing filling the small room.

"You okay?" Tyler asked against you, hands circling your thighs where your legs hung off the counter now, and you pulled back from your grasp around his neck.

"I'm great," you said, giving him a curious look, "Are you not -?"

"Mmm.." Tyler said, leaning into kissing you steady, "We just haven't gone at it like that in a while, I-"

"I wanted it like that," you assured him, and Tyler groaned, his hand coming to push your hair back out of your face, wiping his thumb under your eye, look going tender for just a moment, eyes on you. "I love you."

"I love you," he said, lips meeting softly, hands going to your lips, moving back. "As much as I'd like to just stay here, we should go back."

You nodded, Tyler reluctantly pulling away from your body. "Also you really need to feed the kid," he said, cupping his hands under his own chest to show how full your boobs were, arching a brow, and you laughed, shaking your head at his grin, half in disbelief at how you could just be completely lost in each other a second before, and a moment later just easily laughing, naked in front of each other, like this was a regular thing for you. You did your best to clean yourself up with a towel and a bit of water, trying to look like you'd hadn't just been doing what you did, or maybe like you'd had a shower, knowing full well if you actually did you'd be in trouble, patting cold water into Tyler's cheeks, trying to take the redness out of him. You felt kind of nervous, going back out there, even though you'd disappeared with him like that before, but now you were a thing, and you were pretty sure that everyone would notice when one of you was gone, knowing the other would be gone with them. And you felt even more shy when Tyler disconnected his hand from yours before you stepped back outside, telling you to follow his lead.

It was twilight by now, and clearly some other people had already taken the liberty of getting the fire going, so you felt a little less like you had to try and make your face look natural, feeling comfortable half in Tyler's clothes and half in yours. Your eyes searched for Brooke, noticing her long hair over the back of the chair immediately, Cash laying beside it, stepping around to see Bentley in her lap, clearly content and looking at a toy together, turning to look at you when you came in beside her, not wanting to say anything and disturb what Bentley was doing. She smiled, clearly giving you a knowing look, although she seemed to hold back from calling you out in front of the group, although you could hear one of the guys asking Tyler if he had trouble finding his clothes, to which Tyler gave some lame excuse about needing to find pants for Bentley in case he got cold, and then having to help you with your hair because he had these 'boyfriend responsibilities' now, and you wanted to do nothing other than to put your hand over your face.

"Hi," you said, once Bentley's eyes found you. "Are you having fun with Auntie Brooke?"

He looked at you for a moment as if to process something, and then promptly started crying.

"He was until just now," she laughed, passing him to you, and you pulled him into your body.

"I think he's getting hungry," you said, trying not to laugh when Bentley cried even louder, everyone still talking around you and not for once feeling like you were the odd man out for bringing a baby to the party, Tyler laughing and leaning behind you, his fingers moving to wipe Bentley's tears.

"He didn't realize how hungry he was until his food got here," Tyler laughed, kissing Bentley's cheek in a feeble attempt to calm him down, and then yours, because he knew you sometimes got a little rattled when Bentley was upset. "I'll grab you your water, you need anything else?"

You shook your head, and going to sit down by the fire to nurse him, and yet Tyler came back with your water and a slice of cake, a baby blanket over his arm, offering you your water and then giving you a bite of cake before he took one himself, easily leaning toward you as the conversation continued and you half listening, feeling a little tired yourself and you were pretty sure that you were going to just stay in this chair by the fire for the rest of the evening, turning to Tyler with question when he held up Bentley's blanket in front of your chest, and you wondered briefly if he thought you were showing too much skin.

"Didn't want him to get smoke in his face," Tyler explained, and then you turned your head when the wind blew the smoke in your general direction.

"Thank you," you mouthed, adjusting your legs under the baby, feeling the dogs at your feet.

"Mhmm," Tyler replied, tucking the blanket around Bentley's toes once the wind blew in the other direction, rubbing at Bentley's foot, and then bringing his hand to your shoulder, half rubbing at your shoulder and neck, relaxing you more as Bentley ate contently. He only removed them once you lifted your now full and happy baby up, laying a cloth over your shoulder as you rubbed Bentley's back. "You gonna stay up and party with us tonight, bud? We got fireworks. And so much milk."

You laughed under your breath, shifting Bentley in your lap, adjusting a pillow under your arm so he could sit up, looking at the fire which seemed to constantly attract his gaze, hearing Tyler say something like 'here' and you said "hmm?", only to realize he wasn't talking to you, despite his hand being on the arm of your chair still.

"Oh, I was just saying this was where we had our first kiss," he said, and you were instantly transported back to last summer. "Well, on purpose," Tyler said, sharing a knowing look with you, his hand just somehow settling over yours, Bentley's hands just moving around.

"No, you weren't there yet, little man," Tyler said, "you were just a wish in our heads, yeah."

Tyler's eyes were just on you though, smiling softly.

"Was it like sparks?" someone asked, and you kind of bit your lip trying not to laugh, because at how it had all gone down.

"No, she liked screamed and jumped away," Tyler answered for you, and your couldn't hold back your smile.

"Okay," you clarified, "It just took me by surprise, I wasn't, like...trying to get away. It was a lot, like, a big change."

"Yeah, but I was already nervous as sh-," Tyler said, catching himself, and then laughing, "You did not help."

"You were nervous?" you asked, in surprise, because he has seemed so calm and like he had everything together, and you were the one who seemed to be acting like you couldn't possibly process it.

"Yes," he said, clearly, "My heart was pounding out of my chest."

"Why?" you asked, before you could stop yourself, because maybe he didn't want to share all of this with everyone, his other hand scratching at the back of his neck.

"I wanted you to think I was a good kisser," he answered though, shaking his head in wonder and you felt the same, because the kissing and the touching thing was something he'd never come to you in the past when he needed help with girls, always confident that he had that under control, and it was the emotional and communication part that he always seemed to want your advice on, "I was in so much trouble."

He was smiling though, and you knew that he wanted to fall, that he was glad that he did, and you kind of loved the nerves that you felt, for once.

"I did. You are," you said, and it felt like the first time, again, except with that baby in your lap, and the questions gone from your mind when he cradled your cheek gently in his hand, tilting your head just slightly, pushing his lips to yours.

#wont go slowly #Tyler Seguin #tyler seguin imagines #tyler seguin imagine #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #nhl smut #hockey smut #nhl fanfiction #Hockey Fanfiction

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styles-is-the-name · 5 years ago

Text

Just Before You Go - Part Three

this is my first shot at a harry-y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. Harry is a single father of two that hasn’t even looked at another woman in years. For the first time in five years, he finally feels like he’s returning to himself all because he met someone unexpectedly at a grocery store. Even though his kids are determined to help him find love again, will it be possible? (There eventually be smut, but will mostly be fluff.)

TW: suicide, self harm, and others will occur

Word Count: 2,399

“Harry, you do absolutely amazing work!” Your eyes widen slightly as you continue flipping through his books looking at different tattoos he’s done over the years. Each one is beautiful and unique.

“Thank you, love. I’m not like a traditional tattoo artist if you couldn’t tell. I won’t do any tattoo that another artist has done.”

“So if I were to ask for a butterfly, you wouldn’t do it the same way another person did?”

“I would ask you why you want the butterfly and depending on your response, I will find a butterfly that suits your reasoning perfectly.”

“Do you know about the butterfly project?”

“I sure do. Is...is that why you want one?” You look down breathing out shakily and nod nervously. He sits down next to you gently placing his hand over yours. “I’m here for you, Y/N. I know that we just met and you don’t trust me yet, but I am here for you.”

You smile up at him through tears and nod not able to speak fearful that you might start crying. He hands you a tissue and you dab the corners of your eyes trying not to ruin your makeup. The two of you look over at Darcy who is petting her cat lovingly.

“She’s very beautiful.”

“Thank you.” He smiles at you widely. “She looks exactly like her mother did.”

“She mentioned...you know...what her mother did.” You say softly not sure how to approach the topic. He sighs shakily leaning back on the couch.

“She really struggled with postpartum depression after she had my son. I didn’t realize it was as bad as it actually was. I spent more time with the kids than I did with her. She...she cheated. And when I found out...she killed herself in front of me.”

“Harry...oh my god. I’m so sorry.” He nods awkwardly trying to blink back all the emotion he feels right now. You decide to change the topic to help him out. “So should I bring anything to dinner tomorrow? I can bring dessert.”

“You cook?”

“I do, but I mostly bake.”

“The kids love baking.”

“So maybe...I can bring something over and we can cook and bake together.”

“Like a family.” He smiles lightly at you making your heart flutter.

___________________________

The whole day was so miserable and long for you. You were impatient and you hated it, but you managed to get some of your job applications sent out. Hopefully you’ll be hearing back from schools within the next few days. One of the only good things about who your father is is that he sends you money every week. That’s how you’ve been surviving.

Around three, you decide to call your best friend, Louis. He’s always good to talk to in a crisis or a fashion emergency and in your case, it’s the latter.

“Y/N!”

“Louis!”

“What’s up, babe?”

“Okay so. There’s a lot I have to catch you up on.”

“Is there a guy?”

“How did you know?”

“I haven’t seen you this happy since-“

“Don’t even say his name. I swear to god I will fly to New York and rip out your vocal chords.”

“Okay! Okay! Calm down. But anyway. Spill the tea!”

“Well I was at the grocery store yesterday and I met this man.”

“Name? Age? Nationality? Religion? Race? Relationship status? Criminal record?”

“Louis! Oh my god. His name is Harry Styles.”

“Oh my god that’s amazing. Imagine him so deep inside of you that you start scream-“

“OKAY! Okay! Enough!”

“Continue.”

“He’s a tattoo artist.”

“Seriously? Dude that’s so cool! Maybe I should make a trip out there.”

“Oh my god he’s amazing, Lou. He showed me some of his past tattoos and they’re all amazing.”

“You’ll have to send me pics.”

“I will the next time I’m at his shop.”

“You went to his shop?”

“Just shut up and let me talk!”

“Okay bossy.” You roll your eyes giggling.

“Well he has a British accent.”

“That’s your weakness!”

“I know! He’s a single father.”

“How many kids and how old?”

“Two. Darcy is nine and she's the sweetest little girl I’ve ever met. I haven’t met Carter yet, but he’s six and adorable.”

“And their mom? You don’t need a crazy ex around.”

“She’s not in the picture.”

“Seriously? She had two kids then just left?”

“Lou, it’s more complicated than that.”

“Well, tell me!”

“She killed herself.”

“Oh my god.”

“I know. But Darcy is really trying to get us together and guess what.”

“What?”

“Every Tuesday they have taco Tuesday. And they invited me tonight.”

“Yasss! My girl is gonna get some dick tonight!”

“Louis! Oh my god. Why did I even bother calling you.”

“Because you probably need help picking out an outfit.”

“Yeah I do. I don’t wanna be too dressy, but I don’t wanna be too casual either.”

“You know that yellow, flowy top we bought before you left?”

“The one that has ruffled sleeves and goes down to my thighs?”

“Yeah that. Wear that with leggings and sandals.”

“And my hair?”

“Braid it to the side and natural makeup.”

“Thanks, Lou. I owe you. I gotta go though so I can be there on time. We’re cooking together.”

“Awwww! You’re a little family already!”

“Oh fuck off.”

“Love youuuuu!”

“Yeah yeah.” You hang up giggling then rush to get ready.

_______________________

“But daddy! It’s not fair! Why did Darcy get to meet her and not me?!”

“Bubba, I already explained this to you. Darcy was at the store with me, but you get to meet her tonight. She’s coming over for dinner.”

“But I wanted to find you a girlfriend!” Harry blushes bright red. It’s not that he’s embarrassed to have you called his girlfriend (if it weren’t too soon, he probably would ask you to be his girlfriend himself), but having your kids talk about it is just a little weird.

“She’s not my girlfriend, Carter.”

“YET!” Darcy looks at Carter smirking.

“Jinx! Knock on wood. You owe me a soda!”

“Daddy.” Carter whines looking up to Harry.

“I need you both to be on your absolute best behavior tonight okay?”

“Okay daddy.”

“Yes daddy.” Carter leans closer to Darcy. “Is she pretty?” Darcy giggles and nods. Harry rolls his eyes sighing.

“She’s beautiful. Beyond beautiful. But we just met, guys. Nothing serious is going to come from a din-“

The two are running towards the door before Harry can even finish. Darcy opens the door right as you were reaching to ring the doorbell.

“Y/N!” She hugs you tightly catching you off guard. You hug back smiling lightly and wave to Carter.”

“Hi guys!” Harry walks over wanting to just melt into the floor seeing how embarrassing his kids are being.

“Guys, let her in! Let her in.” Darcy let’s go of you and let’s you walk inside.

“Woah.” You look around at the beautiful interior. “It's beautiful in here!”

“Daddy said you’re beautiful too!”

“Carter!” Darcy nudges him with her elbow.

“What?! He did!” Harry squeezes his fists biting his lip nervously.

“Well, your daddy is very handsome.”

Harry can’t help, but smile. He feels like he’s in high school again. He just met you yesterday and his heart is already racing when you compliment him. The only difference is that he is twenty-six almost twenty-seven and he knows it’s not just some school girl crush. It’s more than that. He hasn’t felt like this in nearly five years and to say that it’s terrifying doesn’t even come close to how he feels.

“Darcy, you were right! She is really pretty.”

“I know!” The two giggle running into the living room. Harry looks up to you blushing deeply feeling bad.

“I’m so sorry. I told them to behave. Looks like they decided not to listen.” You giggle.

“It’s okay, Harry. I wasn’t sure what to bring for dessert so I just brought stuff to make homemade chocolate chip cookies.”

“From scratch?”

“The best way to make them!” He leads you into his kitchen talking over his shoulder to you.

“My mum used to bake cookies from scratch and she would have them ready for when I got home from school. I tried to figure out how to make them the way she does, but I never could figure it out.”

“The secret ingredient is sour cream. Sounds disgusting, but it just makes the cookie more moist. Also, milk instead of water.”

“I knew the milk, but not sour cream. God I worked in a bakery as a teenager. I should know these things!”

“Awww little Harry in an apron!” You hold your heart jutting out your bottom lip. You see his gaze move down to your lips and your knees just about give out on you.

“Just be thankful my mum isn’t here. She’d be showing you all sorts of baby pictures.”

“We should have invited her then! I’d love to see those chubby baby cheeks. I love babies.”

“What’s your favorite age to teach?”

“Probably both elementary and high school.”

“Not middle school?”

“Oh hell no. Those brats are so rude it’s not even funny. And they’re too hormonal.”

“I would’ve thought that high schoolers are more hormonal.” You sit down on the counter popping a cherry into your mouth while watching him roll his sleeves up. Your mouth waters but you can’t tell if it’s from the cherry or his tattoos.

“That’s what you’d think, but they have the majority of their hormones in check. I mean think about it. Most girls start their periods in six grade. That’s around the time that guys started yanking off to socks.” His laugh sounds like music to your ears. You’d do anything to hear that again.

“True. I love how you put it like that.”

“I mean it’s true! I’ve heard most guys prefer socks over the male dildo vagina things.”

“What guys have you been talking to?!”

“My brothers and my best friend.” You shrug amused by the conversation.

“Well I just prefer my hand.”

“But doesn’t that make a mess?”

“If you aim right it shouldn’t.”

“Oh my god. I’d struggle if I were a guy for a day.”

“How so?”

“My aim sucks. I wouldn’t be able to even pee.” He throws his head back laughing.

“Well if I were a woman for a day, I wouldn’t be able to leave my bedroom.”

“Why? Too busy fingering yourself?” You giggle rolling your eyes.

“Eh. I’m more of a tits guy.” Just the way he said that makes you feel light headed. You know you need to change the subject before you have to go to the bathroom.

“Oh whatever. Anyway. Tell me about yourself, Harry.”

“What do you wanna know, love?”

“Anything and everything.” Harry hands you a pan and the package of meat. You pop another cherry into your mouth before hopping off of the counter and turning the burner on.

“Well, I was raised in Holmes Chapel.”

“Isn’t that just a few hours outside of London?”

“Yeah. It’s a pretty small town, but it’s lovely.”

“Why’d you move here?”

“For uni. Three of my lads and I moved here. We got an apartment and went to uni together.”

“What do they do for a living?”

“Well Niall owns his own club. Zayn is a model. And Liam is about to graduate med school.”

“Oh wow. That’s a big variety.”

“I know, but I know who to go to for free drinks and surgery if needed.” You laugh while pouring the meat into the pan. This isn’t as awkward as you thought it would be. It’s actually pretty fun.

“Where did you go to college?”

“We went to NYU but Liam is at Chapel Hill for med school.”

“I went to NYU!”

“No way! Class of 2012.”

“Class of 2014!”

“We probably saw each other around campus then. You were a sophomore when I was a senior.”

“I actually went to your graduation. My best friend Louis was graduating.”

“Louis? As in Tomlinson?”

“Oh my god. You know him?!”

“Yeah. We were pretty good friends. We lost contact a couple years after graduation sadly.”

“Maybe you should reconnect.”

“I would love to, but I don’t even know how to get in contact with him.”

“Here. I’ll FaceTime him.” You walk over to him touching the small of his back while FaceTiming him.

“Wha-“

“Y/N? Oh my god! Harry! I was wondering if you were him!”

“Lou! Hey man!”

“How’s life?!”

“It’s great! You?”

“Wonderful. I’m actually thinking about proposing to El.”

“Oh my god. That’s awesome!” You give him the phone giggling. It warms your heart hearing the two of them get along. They’re the two most important guys in your life right now. And you have a feeling that Carter will probably be the third.

You walk into the living room and see the kids watching tv. You lay down dramatically with your head in Darcy’s lap and your feet in Carter's.

“Hey! Your feet are smelly!”

“Hey!” You pout sitting up. He giggles and jumps into your arms making you groan.

“Just because your feet are smelly doesn’t mean I don’t want cuddles.” You laugh holding him close.

“Alright. What are you guys watching?” Darcy pauses the tv looking at you.

“There’s nothing really to watch.”

“Do you have Disney plus?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know what to watch.”

“Have you heard of Wizards of Waverly Place?” They both shake their head no making you grin. “When my brothers and I were growing up, we would watch it all the time. It’s about two mortals that have three kids that are witches.”

“What are mortals?” Carter looks up to you confused.

“Mortals are people like us. We don’t have any powers.”

“I’m not a mortal! Daddy says I’m Superman!” You laugh pinching his cheek.

“You sure are Superman!”

“Can we watch it, Y/N?”

“Of course. Selena Gomez is one of the lead characters.” Darcy gasps pressing play immediately. She moves closer to you cuddling into your side.

Your heart has never felt this full before. Sure you’ve had cuddles from some of your kids, but you’ve never done this before. Carter rests his head on your chest sucking his thumb. You close your eyes just soaking in the moment.

Nothing could make this any better.

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pizza-soup · 5 years ago

Text

Garden update!

My apricots are officially ready to harvest, here’s one bowl of four. My tree gave a lot more this year than I anticipated. I’m not a huge fan of these, since I always thought they tasted sour, but this year they’re actually really sweet. Not sure what happened, but I like them now and will be adding them to some frozen yogurt tonight.

We got our first clusters of grapes this morning, just two for now, but I’m sure in a few days the rest will follow. There’s at least seven clusters this year. I’m waiting on my red grapes to mature now.

My horned melon vines are flowering now, I placed a bee puddler nearby to entice the pollinators to drop in. Below that is a baby watermelon! The first one to pop up, I hope we start seeing more soon.

The peaches have yet to mature but I’m starting to see that familiar blush on them, there’s eight in total which isn’t too bad for such a small tree. Next year I’ll be adding some compost to boost up it’s growth. The pears are getting bigger, just about the size of the palm of a hand, 16 in total. I have no idea how many pomegranates I have, there’s...a lot. I’m guessing 20 for now, last year I had about 22. This fruit is the first one to show that lovely red.

Ube!! All of these were the same root but planted at different times, the biggest was planted in March, the smallest just last week. These are a giant purple yam from Okinawa with a lovely rich color, even the roots are deep purple and stain everything! But they’re so delicious, this is a childhood fav for me, ube was a flavor I’d eat in Pinoy halo-halo in CA. They’ll be repotted in a tote so I can move them inside during the colder season. I’m reading they don’t take the cold like the sweet potatoes do. They’re said to give tubers within 2 years of maturity.

Other plants not pictured are the mini pumpkins, they’re vineing rather well and might get flowers early because I see some buds. Some cherry tomatoes which have only just blossomed. Blue corn from my dad’s tribe is about two hands high now, they're starting out straight and strong. I have a indigo plant finally sprouting, such a tiny thing, the batch of seeds I bought was from a textile company owned and operated by women in India.

Now for some bad news...a caterpillar ate my radishes. >:[

I checked this morning to find almost all the leaves eaten down to the stems with a fuzzy green caterpillar sitting on the edge. But I couldn’t get myself to kill the thing, I mean, it’s just doing what’s in it’s nature. I put it in a container with some spinach. It can live out it’s life in there, but I won’t be releasing it. No more little caterpillars. I checked all over the greenhouse to be sure I didn’t miss any. I don’t use pesticides on my plants, so I need to be on top of things.

Darn. And the radishes were doing so well too, it would’ve been my first year growing those, I’m just glad we have a long summer season in NM, so there’s time to restart a new batch and they take off rather quickly.

#daily update #garden update #it's fine #gotta take the good with the bad #my life is kind of like animal crossing sometimes

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emospritelet · 5 years ago

Note

#94 — “I wasn’t expecting a gift,” from the festive fic prompts. Original sin verse, please!

Belle heads to Storybrooke to give Demon!Gold some news...

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [AO3]

It was snowing again.

Belle closed and locked the door of the bookshop, turning her face up to the darkened sky and feeling the light kiss of cold flakes on her nose and cheeks. She let out a sigh, blinking rapidly to clear the snowflakes from her lashes, and put her keys in her bag before heading down the street. It was the day before Christmas Eve, and people hurried around her, clutching bulging bags of last-minute purchases. Belle had already made it known by virtue of a card in the bookshop window that she would not be open on Christmas Eve. It would mean that she would lose some last-minute sales, of course, but that couldn’t be helped. There was somewhere else she needed to be.

The wind was biting, and she shivered a little, pushing her chin down into her scarf as she quickened her pace. The neon sign outside Roni’s bar was a welcoming sight, and Belle ducked inside the door, letting a wave of heat and the raucous guitar of some rock ballad wash over her. She stamped snow from her boots, eyes flicking to the bar. Roni, the dark-haired owner and bartender, was deep in conversation with a woman that Belle hadn’t seen before. She was blonde and slender, with pale skin set off by the cream coat she wore above leather pants the colour of tropical sand and a cream turtleneck sweater. The woman had a glass of white wine, and was running a pale finger around the base of the glass as they talked in quiet voices. Roni had a glass in her hand, and was wiping it with a cloth in a surprisingly nervous fashion.

“So, I’m closing up tomorrow around eight,” she said. “If - if you wanted to come over for a drink, or something.”

The blonde woman smiled a little sadly.

“I don’t think my side would like that,” she said, and Roni’s face fell a little before a bright smile curved her red lips.

“Sure,” she said. “I understand. Big night for you guys, right? I don’t exactly celebrate.”

“It’s - it’s not that I don’t want to…”

“Really, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Roni turned away, her smile tight, almost a grimace, and Belle felt a surge of sympathy for her. She had never seen the blonde woman before, but there was clearly some history there, and deep feelings that were not remotely one-sided. She hoped they could work it out.

“Hey,” she said lightly, as though she hadn’t noticed their pining. “Man, it’s freezing out there!”

“Belle,” said Roni, looking relieved at her arrival. “You okay? Haven’t seen you in a week.”

“Yeah, I was feeling under the weather,” said Belle, wrinkling her nose.

“Nothing serious, I hope.”

Belle sucked her teeth, then shrugged. May as well tell someone.

“Depends on your point of view, I guess,” she said. “I’m pregnant.”

“A baby?” The blonde woman looked delighted. “That’s wonderful!”

“Thank you.”

Belle returned her warm smile. Roni’s reaction was nothing more than an upward flick of one brow.

“Oh,” she said. “Uh - congratulations?”

“Thanks.” Belle shrugged out of her coat. “You don’t seem too surprised.”

Roni pulled a face.

“You did look kinda beat last time you were in here,” she said. “When you said you couldn’t face a gin and tonic but scarfed down a bowl of pickled jalapeno slices, I gotta admit I had my suspicions.”

“Is that why you pushed me away from the wine and towards the iced tea?” said Belle wryly.

“Speaking of…” Roni picked up a glass with a questioning look, and Belle nodded, climbing onto a bar stool.

“You got any of those jalapenos?” she asked.

Roni slid a glass of iced tea across the bar towards her, and smirked before reaching for the jar of pickled chilli slices behind her.

“I’m gonna have to get in some more of these,” she said. “Never took you for a spice fiend.”

“Can’t seem to get enough of it right now,” said Belle, eyeing the slices of jalapeno as Roni scooped them up and drained them with the edge of a spoon.

“Is that a pregnancy thing?”

“Must be,” she sighed. “I guess at least it’s more healthy than my old cupcake obsession.”

“Got a fresh batch in today.” Roni pushed a little dish of pickled chillies towards her, and gestured to the plastic cake stand to her left, where sat half a dozen chocolate cupcakes, each topped with a thickly-piped swirl of inky-black frosting and a single dark cherry, sticky with syrup. “Want one? On the house, since you’re eating for two.”

Belle was tempted, tapping her fingernails on the bar.

“Guess I’d better check there’s nothing in there I shouldn’t be having,” she said. “You got a list of what’s in these things? I ate like two dozen of them leading up to Halloween, and they taste too good to be totally healthy.”

“Yeah, I got an ingredient list somewhere,” said Roni vaguely, fishing around under the bar. “The guy that makes ‘em dropped it off. Get a lot of questions about allergies. Here.”

She slapped a somewhat ragged piece of paper on the bar, and Belle looked it over. She glanced up, fixing Roni with a flat stare.

“Activated charcoal?” she said. “You weren’t planning on mentioning that?”

“Oh, yeah, apparently it’s how he got the frosting black,” said Roni, unconcerned.

“Activated charcoal?” said Belle incredulously. “Are you kidding me? I thought it was just regular food colouring!”

“What?” asked Roni, looking confused. “Isn’t it supposed to be good for you? That’s what the guy said, anyway. Some sort of hipster ingredient?”

“Not if you’re on bloody birth control!”

“What?”

“It screws it up!” exclaimed Belle, throwing up her arms and letting them fall. “You do know that?”

“Uh…” Roni shifted uneasily. “No?”

“Roni!”

“Well, why would I?” she said defensively. “I don’t take birth control! I’m not even sure I understand how it works!”

“I don’t believe this!”

“Seriously, you’ve been handing out cupcakes that mess with people’s birth control?” remarked the blonde woman. Roni put her hands on her hips.

“It wasn’t me!” she insisted. “Do you really think I could do something that evil?”

The blonde woman gave her a very flat look, and Roni huffed.

“Well, I didn’t!”

Belle leaned on the bar with a sigh.

“At least I have an explanation now,” she said dryly. “I thought it was just bad luck. Or - or good luck, I guess. You know what I mean.”

Roni leaned on the bar, putting her head to the side.

“You’re happy about it?” she asked carefully.

Belle took a sip of her iced tea, and smiled as she set down her glass.

“Yeah,” she said. “I am. I mean, it was a shock, not gonna lie, but now I’ve had time to think about it, I’m really excited. I guess the timing isn’t great, but is there ever a perfect time?”

“And the father?” Roni sounded cautious, and Belle sighed.

“Haven’t told him yet,” she admitted. “I only found out yesterday, and - well, he lives up in Maine. Something tells me this needs to be a face-to-face conversation.”

“Yeah.” Roni poured herself a glass of whisky, and leaned on the bar. “Well, I imagine he’ll be pleased to see you.”

“You think?” asked Belle. “We only had one date.”

“Apparently it was one hell of a date.” Roni sipped at her whisky.

“Yeah, but we haven’t managed to cross paths since,” she said. “We’ve been emailing, but - well, I guess it’s a long drive. He said work was keeping him busy until the New Year.”

“So are you going up there?”

“Getting the bus to Maine tomorrow,” she confirmed.

“Hmm.” Roni smirked. “Give the old bastard my regards, won’t you?”

“Do you know him?” asked Belle, confused. “He said you didn’t, but the two of you acted kind of…”

“Kind of what?”

“I don’t know.” Belle popped a chilli slice in her mouth, savouring the sharp heat. “Like you were in some sort of secret society and couldn’t talk about it.”

“Who are you talking about?” asked the blonde woman, suddenly suspicious, and Roni sent her a smile.

“No one important,” she said. “At least not to me. Don’t even know the guy’s name.”

“His name’s Damien Gold,” said Belle, and the blonde woman frowned slightly, as though she was trying to remember something.

“Anyhow, never mind about him,” said Roni hurriedly. “When’s the baby due?”

“July.”

“You know what you’re having?”

“Oh, it’s way too early to tell,” said Belle hastily. “I don’t care, anyway. Boy or girl, it doesn’t matter to me.”

“Well, I wish you every happiness,” said the blonde woman warmly, reaching out to take her hand.

Belle went to take it, opening her mouth to say thank you, when a spark of electricity bounced between them, making them both yelp and jerk back before they could touch. The woman rubbed her fingers on her pants, frowning.

“Ouch,” said Roni. “Man-made fibres, huh? Give me leather every time.”

The blonde woman gave her another suspicious, somewhat weary look, and Belle wondered exactly what it was that was going on between them. She took a sip of her iced tea, picking at the chilli slices as Roni went to serve another customer. Twenty-four hours, and she would be in Maine. Seeing the father of her child. She wondered what he was doing with his day. Whether he had the faintest notion of how his life was going to change.

The Greyhound bus pulled into Storybrooke just before seven, and Belle looked around herself as she stepped off onto a sidewalk covered in snow and crisscrossed with footprints. The town looked quaint, the main street strung with festive lights and the shops all sporting decorations. A large Christmas tree sat in a square off to her left, lights flashing red and gold, and she smiled. Storybrooke certainly embraced the Christmas spirit.

Belle clutched her bag in one hand, a holdall stuffed with enough clothes to get her through the next week if necessary. She wasn’t sure how long she would need to discuss matters with Gold. Worst case scenario, he would refuse to have anything to do with her, in which case she would be back on the bus to New York and preparing to raise her child alone. She didn’t think he would cut them off completely, but she was prepared for it nonetheless.

She had called ahead to the only place to stay in town, a bed and breakfast called Granny’s. Finding it was easy; a nearby diner bore the same name, and she could see the inn attached to it. She bypassed the diner and walked up a dark path, the trees lining it strung with coloured lights. The interior of the inn was old-fashioned, but it was clean and comfortable, and Mrs Lucas, its grey-haired owner, seemed kindhearted, if a little brusque.

She did little more than check that her room was clean before dropping her bag on the bed and rummaging in it for the gift she had brought. Perhaps it was foolish, bringing Gold a Christmas present, but she had been poking around the flea market and the item had called to her. She had taken it home and set it carefully in a box, wrapping it in bright red paper with stylised reindeer and Santa figures, and tied it up with a red ribbon. Now that she was looking at it, it seemed garish and somehow insulting, although she wasn’t sure why anyone would be insulted by receiving a present. Telling herself she was nervous, and therefore not thinking straight, she shoved it into her handbag and checked her hair and make-up, reapplying deep red lipstick and pulling her cloche hat back on her head.

Belle had asked Mrs Lucas where Mr Gold’s antique shop could be found, and after receiving a surprised, narrow-eyed look, had been given directions. She could hear the noise from the diner as she passed by: Christmas music and the raucous laughter and cheerful conversation of the diners. It faded as she walked away, down the darkened streets with the snow falling around her and deadening her footsteps. It was late, and she wasn’t sure if she would find Gold in his shop, but the lit sign appeared out of the night, a square of gold against the black of the sky. His was the only shop not decked with coloured lights, the window displaying an old tea set, an ancient globe and a brass telescope, all cushioned on black velvet and lit with a warm, golden light. Perhaps he didn’t celebrate Christmas. It made her feel even more nervous about buying him a gift.

Glancing through the window, she could see him, and her heart began to thump harder. He was standing behind the shop counter, hands poised on tented fingers and his eyes fixed on the door, as though he was waiting for someone. As though he was waiting for her. It made her swallow hard, her nerves increasing. Why the hell didn’t I call, tell him I was coming? What if he has family visiting? What if - what if he has a wife? Is that the reason he didn’t come back? Because he has his own life here? Oh God, why didn’t I bloody well call?

Taking a deep breath, and telling herself to be brave, she pushed open the door, a bell tinkling cheerfully above. It swung shut behind her, and she took a step forward, moving closer. Gold’s dark eyes caught hers, but there was a tiny smile on his face, and it gave her courage, made her move closer.

The shop smelt of beeswax and old books, filled with the low, rhythmic ticking of clocks and the gleam of soft yellow light on polished wood and shining brass and cut crystal. Belle stepped up the counter, meeting Gold’s eyes. He was wearing black, the faint gleam of silk in the folds of his shirt where gold sleeve garters pushed them up above his elbows. His tie was black silk, too, with a damask pattern, a gold tie pin clipped across its dark length. He wore no jacket, a waistcoat closely fitting his slim form, the thin gold chain of a pocket watch looping across from his belt. His hair hung around his face, soft and shining, and she remembered how it had felt slipping between her fingers, brushing her cheeks as he moved inside her. She felt a surge of desire go through her, and licked her lips. Not the time.

“Hey,” she said, and he smiled in a satisfied manner, settling back on his heels a little.

“Miss French,” he said. “How lovely to see you.”

“I think we’re on first name terms,” she said, with a nervous smile. “We’ve seen each other very naked, or did you forget?”

Gold’s grin widened, showing white teeth.

“Oh, I could never forget that.” He put his head to the side. “How are you?”

“I’m - uh - fine.”

Her heart was thumping, her belly twisting with nerves. How would he react? Would he be pleased? Angry? Certainly he’d be shocked, but would he reject her, reject his child? God, she wished she had called first! Telling herself it was too bloody late now, she decided to follow her original plan. She reached into her bag, taking out the gift-wrapped box, and placed it on the counter.

“Merry Christmas,” she said nervously.

Gold blinked, and looked from the present to her and back again, seemingly unsure of himself.

“I wasn’t expecting a gift.”

“Tis the season.”

“Yes.”

He picked it up and turned it over in his hands, looking oddly hesitant.

“I thought you’d come to me,” he admitted. “But I didn’t know when that would be. Perhaps the New Year, or—”

“Did you want me to come?” God, this was agony! Gold sighed, but gave her that tiny smile again.

“Of course I did,” he said. “What I mean to say is, I - I don’t have anything to give you in return. I don’t celebrate, you see. Tomorrow I was planning on doing inventory.”

“That’s okay,” she said, and took a deep breath. “You already gave me the best present I could hope for, anyway.”

His eyes flicked up to meet hers, a gleam of gold shining in their depths.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She shifted awkwardly. “Uh - you might want to be sitting down for this.”

His smile widened.

“Whatever you have to tell me, I can take it.”

“Right.”

Her heart was hammering in her chest, her skin prickling all over, and she wanted nothing more than to climb over the counter and kiss him. She licked her lips, and summoned all her courage, raising her chin.

“I’m pregnant.”

#sprite's festive fic fest #fic:original sin verse #rumbelle #jackabelle73 #rumbelle fic #my fic #demon!gold and human!belle #fic: communion #demon/human relationships #demon/human pregnancy #just ignore the ridiculousness of this whole situation #there'll be hot smut at some point #and a HEA

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years ago

Text

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Twenty-Seven: Miniature ___ ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

If there’s one thing Hinata is a fan of...it’s tiny things. She isn’t even really sure why...she just likes them. Always has. When she was little, she collected the miniature versions of Beanie Babies. Polly Pocket was one of her favorite toys, along with any teeny models of anything she could get her hands on. Little figurines, small animals, tiny dollhouses...the smaller, the better.

Even her handwriting is small. Neat and curvy, she even dots her i’s and j’s with tiny little hearts. During her doodling phase, there would be tiny little drawings along the sides of her assignments and notebooks. Then she got into things like knitting and crochet, and took to creating smaller and smaller versions of the projects she would find in books or online.

Even her height caps out relatively short in high school. By the time she’s a senior, she’s still only five feet four inches. Of course, she also has a rather curvy build, but that doesn’t bother her at all. She’s the shortest of her friend group, and earns herself the nickname pixie.

She loves it.

“So...what are we making today?”

“Huh?” Looking up from the cookbook she’s skimming through, Hinata gives a small start. She...sort of forgot she was in Home Ec class...whoops. They have a bit of a free day, and as always that means cooking with Sasuke. But though she’d started reading with the intention of finding something to make, she got a little...lost. A bit of a daydreamer, her focus isn’t always the best. A sheepish smile pulls at her lips. “Um...I dunno yet. You wanna pick?”

“Eh, I’m no good at it.”

Lips pursing thoughtfully, she absently flips through a few more pages before perking up. “Ooh...what about this?”

“Hm?” Glancing over, Sasuke grimaces just a hair: it’s a dessert. He still doesn’t like sweet things all that much.

“What?”

“Brownies?”

“Mhm! See, they’re supposed to be like, um...s’mores!” She turns the book to him, letting him see the picture right side up. “You make a graham cracker crust first, in the bottom of the pan. Then you make the brownies on top! Once those are done, you put a whole bunch of miniature marshmallows along the top, and broil them so they get browned. Doesn’t it look good?”

“Eh, I guess.”

Hinata gives a pout. “I still can’t believe you don’t like s-sweets.”

“They’re okay, I guess. It’s just easy for something to be too sweet, y’know?”

“No such thing!”

“Says you.”

“Well...we’ll make something savory next time,” she promises, turning the book back around. “I just...really want to use the marshmallows…”

“Oh yeah?”

“They’re so cute and tiny!” Hinata brings hands to her cheeks, smiling and going a bit pink. “Don’t you think?”

That earns a small snort of amusement. “Never really thought of food as cute before, no. But uh...I guess?”

“They are! Fluffy and soft and small…”

A grin softly curls Sasuke’s lips. The more he gets to know Hinata, the more he learns about her little quips and quirks. And so far, they all add up to a sweet, soft girl. Much like the marshmallows she’s so excited about. “All right, you win. They’re cute.” Like you.

...he...he did not just think that.

Jolting a bit as he realizes the thought, it thankfully goes unnoticed as Hinata turns to start gathering ingredients. Gripping over his mouth with a hand, he takes the opportunity to fight back a flustered flush. Darn this girl…!

“So, do you want to make the crust?”

“W-? Huh?”

“The graham cracker crust! It’s super easy,” she assures him, smiling. “You just need to melt some butter, and crush the graham crackers, mix them together...a-and press them in the pan to bake!”

“...sure.” Schooling his expression back to neutral, Sasuke does as asked, referencing the book as he goes. At least she has one thing right, it’s pretty straight forward. Using a ziplock bag, he smooshes the crackers with a rolling pin before mixing them into the butter. It actually...smells pretty good.

All the while, Hinata works on the brownie batter, humming idly to herself. Every so often, Sasuke gives her a glance from the corner of her eye, watching her go. A lot about her reminds him of his mother. Whenever she’s in the kitchen, she gets just as jovial, no matter what she’s making. It’s so boringly domestic, and yet...something about it brings a subconscious smile to his face.

“Ready to put it in the oven?”

“O-oh, uh...yeah.” Hurriedly getting it all packed into place, Sasuke puts the pan in, setting a timer.

“Okay, once that’s done we can do the brownies, and then the marshmallows!”

“So...we have marshmallows?”

“Mhm, right here.” Hinata shows the bag, which is...open. At his perked brow, she goes a little pink. “I...might’ve eaten one. Just to see if they were s-stale!”

“...and?”

“And, um...they’re fine!” She takes out another, squishing it between a thumb and forefinger with a giggle. “Nice and soft!”

Amused, Sasuke takes one as well, giving it a squish before popping it in his mouth. Almost immediately, he cringes at the pure sugary taste.

“W...what’s wrong?”

He shakes his head, forcing himself to swallow. “It’s just, guh...sweet.”

“You’d never survive a week at my house, I’ve always got sweets around,” Hinata laughs, indulging in another marshmallow.

“I dunno how you stand it. It’s just...too much.”

“Well, the taste changes a lot once they’ve been broiled, and along with the brownie and the cracker crust. Maybe that’ll be more your style?”

“Maybe.”

The timer dings, and once Sasuke fetches the pan, Hinata carefully spoons out the batter, smoothing it with a spatula and ensuring it’s nice and flat, with no splatters on the side. “There we go…!”

Then...more waiting.

“Here, you pick something for next time, okay?”

“Uh…” Accepting the book, Sasuke starts idly flipping through the pages. In truth, there’s...not a lot in here that isn’t sweet. “Maybe we need something other than baking, huh?”

Hinata blinks. “...you...probably have a point.” She moves to the little bookcase of cookbooks. “Anything look promising to you?”

He has no idea. Picking one at random, he flips a few pages before coming to a halt, eyes going a little wide. “...that one.”

Looking over his shoulder, Hinata brightens. “Baked Parmesan tomatoes…?” They look really easy to make. “...do you like tomatoes?”

“Yeah, they’re one of my favorite foods.”

“Ooh, aren’t there cherry tomatoes…? The little ones?”

At that, Sasuke gives her a glance. First miniature marshmallows, now little tomatoes? “...you have a thing for small stuff?”

The accusation makes her go pink again. “Well, I...s-sorta. I just think small stuff is...is cute!”

His prior thought nearly comes spilling out, and Sasuke has to clench his jaw shut before it tumbles out of his mouth. “...all tomatoes are good.”

“Then we’ll do this one next time! I’ll bring some fresh tomatoes from the store the next time we have a lighter day. If it was summer break, I could bring you some from my garden!”

“...you grow a garden?”

“A small one, yeah! I love plants, too!”

Is there anything this girl doesn’t love? “I’ve never grown anything...no idea if I’d be any good at it. Mom keeps a flower garden, but nothing you can eat.”

“I’ll have to bring you some!”

“...I’d like that.”

There’s a small, growingly-awkward silence, and then they’re blissfully interrupted by the timer. “...o-oh! Time to, uh...add the marshmallows!”

“...yeah.”

Carefully taking out the pan, they marvel at the two layers they have so far. “Okay, set the oven to broil, and I’ll add the ‘mallows!”

With everything in place, they put the pan back in, door cracked to make sure nothing burns. Soon enough, the smell of caramelized sugar wafts out, and Sasuke surprises himself at finding it pleasant.

“Okay, all done!”

...it looks glorious.

By then, they’ve drawn onlookers, and Hinata doles pieces out for the rest of the class. They take their own last, Sasuke looking at it curiously before taking a bite.

Hinata waits for a verdict.

A few seconds of chewing pass, and then he swallows. “...not bad. I like the bitter brownies, helps balance it out.”

“Yeah, I put in a bit less sugar to try to balance it out!”

“...you did?”

“I thought you’d like them better that way,” she replies, beaming.

He blinks. “...thanks.”

Once all is said and done, they clean up just as the bell rings. “Oh shoot, I need to get to practice, can you…?”

“I got it,” Sasuke assures her. “Get going.”

“Thank youuu!” Taking up her bag, she dashes out of the room with the others.

Left alone, Sasuke considers the bit of a mess, eyes lingering on the mini marshmallows.

...he’ll have to remember that.

.oOo.

Back to the Home Ec AU! I...love this one a lot xD It's so gosh darn cute. Give it up, Sasuke - there's no resisting how stinkin' adorable Hinata is. You're as good as gone, my boy. Just give in and submit to the cute! Anywho, I got more to get done tonight, so...that's all for now! Thanks for reading n_n

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #best years of your life [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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timeinabottle · 6 years ago

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Joyce & Hopper meet-cute in Melvald’s over the holidays, Will & Jonathan make an appearance. Life in sleepy Hawkins before the upside-down.

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If The Fates Allow

Christmas, 1982

It was quarter to seven on December 21st, and Joyce Byers was finally coming up on the tail end of her shift at Melvald’s General Store. She was all alone, sitting at the checkout counter, chin in her hands, mindlessly flipping through the latest issue of Cosmopolitan and listening to Brenda Lee’s holiday hits on the tape deck. Nearly an hour had passed now without a single customer and the minutes were crawling by.

Busy little bee that she was, Joyce had already swept, restocked the shelves, dusted the displays at the front of the store and replaced a few worn snowflakes hanging in the windows. She even remembered to water the poinsettias. All she had left to do now was cash out, and she was gone. Her fuddy-duddy of a boss wouldn’t normally approve of such things, but Joyce decided to close out her cash register early anyway. Donald would just have to understand.

Tonight was special after-all: the Hawkins Middle School Christmas pageant began at seven-thirty sharp, and she would need to lock up the store within the next twenty minutes to get there on time. The sixth-grade students were putting on a production of A Christmas Carol, Will was playing Tiny Tim, and she couldn’t be more thrilled. She was so proud, in fact, that she had bragged non-stop all day to anyone who’d listen.

Her youngest had devoted the past two weeks to rehearsing with his brother and friends in her living room, while she sat cross-legged on the floor, reading their stage directions aloud. She knew that script word for word by that point and while he might not have the most lines like Mike or the funniest ones like Lucas and Dustin, Will’s lines were the most important of the whole play, in her opinion. She was more than excited to see her baby’s debut performance.

Jonathan had called the store shortly after six to say he was running late and might not make it to the store in time to pick up the finishing touches for Will’s costume before he needed to get his brother back to the school. Joyce still had the pageboy cap (she had finished sewing it on her lunch break that afternoon) and a crutch borrowed from the pharmacy down the street, so she absolutely, positively could. Not. Be. Late.

She was nearly done tallying up her receipts with two minutes to close when she heard the bell on the door chime behind her. Of course a customer would walk in as she was closing up tonight, the only night of the year she had somewhere important to be.

“Oh come on,” she muttered under her breath, looking up in time to see her inconsiderate shopper breeze by. The familiar face glanced her way and gave a slight nod, acknowledging her unapologetic stare. He looked like a man on a mission brushing the fresh snowflakes off his corduroy jacket with that perpetually annoyed expression on his face.

It was always a strange sight to see Hopper out of uniform.

That night, he was wearing a festive plaid flannel and jeans. His dirty blonde hair was mussed, missing it’s sheriff’s hat, and day-old whiskers shadowed his cheeks. He passed the disheveled look off like it was intentional — even though she knew that he had likely just rolled out of bed from patrol the night before and didn’t give a hoot what he looked like. That just made it all the more sexier in her opinion and she scolded herself for thinking that way. She couldn’t help herself, though. He was aging into the perfect blend of Harrison Ford and Jack Nicholson: A bit rough around the edges, handsome as hell, and cocky… like he knew it.

Her heart was creeping its way into her throat as she watched him head to the back of the store. You don’t like him like that anymore, she reminded herself sternly (even though she knew deep down it was a lie).

Bee-lining to where Donald kept the liquor, he snuck another glance back at Joyce before turning down the aisle and disappearing from view. She pretended not to notice and promptly checked her reflection in the dark windows, thanking her good sense that morning to put a bit more effort into her hair and makeup for the pageant tonight. Smoothing her new bangs in vain, she took out the cherry chapstick from her vest pocket, popping some color on her lips. Joyce was nonchalant but mentally preparing for the worst.

An unsavory exchange at the supermarket on Labor Day that year had left a sour taste in her mouth and she vividly recalled swearing to herself on the drive home that if she never saw Jim Hopper again, it would be too soon. She regretted every word she said by the time the groceries were put away and meant to apologize when she saw him again, but in spite of their small hometown, they managed to avoid each other for the rest of autumn. Joyce really couldn’t be too surprised to see him now; they were well overdue for a run-in, and it was quickly becoming apparent he was meant to play the Ghost of Christmas Past in this twisted little production of her life.

But maybe (emphasis on maybe) enough time had passed now, and Hopper wouldn’t be on the defensive with her this time. He could see for himself that she was doing good and she could let him know that she took his words of advice, got her life back on track. She could finally, properly thank him. They could both say their sorry’s and move on.

Sure, it wasn’t the greatest timing, and she had maybe less than ten minutes to follow through on this little burst of spontaneity, but she could work with what she was given and was grateful for the opportunity at a fresh start. This could be her new year’s resolution for ’83, and it was something she could get started on right now.

She had unplugged the Christmas lights in the window, turned the radio and overhead lights off and moved the open sign to ‘closed’ by the time he reappeared.

Out of all the stores in all the towns, in all of Indiana…

This had to be fates giving her the nudge she needed to make amends. Or maybe she had just listened to one too many sappy Christmas songs that day, and they rotted her brain. A hundred ways to say hello ran through her head, but any notion she had about where the conversation would take them went out the window the second he opened his mouth.

“Am I keeping you?” he called out across the darkened store, leisurely taking his time walking back, making it clear he didn’t give a shit either way… slower than molasses in January.

Despite the actual answer and her simmering annoyance at his choice of greeting, she shook her head 'no’ and peered at the contents he carried up to the checkout with wide eyes.

“You okay there?”

Hopper scowled at the question, shifting the weight in his arms. She raised an eyebrow at him, pushing for an answer.

“Yeah, what’s it to ya?” he finally muttered, looming over her on the other side of the counter now, but Joyce didn’t back down.

She looked pointedly at him. His arms were full; a 40 of Jim Beam and Stoli were both tucked into the crook of one arm, with a box of wine wedged under the other. He expertly balanced three six packs and a stack of styrofoam cups on top of two flats of beer.

“‘Lot of booze for one person. Even you.“

She meant for her comment to come off as light-hearted teasing, but it fell flat. Rolling his eyes at her concern, Hopper dropped the beer on the counter with a thud, stacking the other items around unceremoniously. One of the bottles rolled towards the edge of the counter, and Joyce thankfully caught it before it could fall, placing it gently down next to his other items.

She didn’t mean to pry, but as long as she had known him, Hopper was possibly the most stubborn man she had ever met. If he were suffering, he’d die before he’d let on, and that worried Joyce more than she cared to admit. Over the last few Christmases, she had watched him from afar, a silent witness to his inner struggles dealing with the holiday season. She could only imagine how he felt, especially since she could barely cope herself after her own divorce. But to lose your only child too? She couldn’t bear the thought.

Even if they weren’t exactly on speaking terms, and even if he drove her up the wall when they did see each other, he was still (kind of) her friend. She felt compelled to ask, if only for her peace of mind.

"It’s not all for me, Joyce. It’s the PD Christmas potluck tonight,” his irritation peaked, and he waved the sleeve of cups at her with a wry look on his face, like it should have been obvious.

“Oh, well my mistake then,“ she snapped her mouth shut, feeling stupid she didn’t think of that first and even more so for assuming. Joyce grabbed the cups from Hopper and found the price tag, focusing on the task to take her mind off the fact she could sense his eyes watching her every move.

"Gimme a pack of camels too,” he sniffed. Two twenties were flicked at her across the counter, like he was leaving cash on the nightstand. Like he didn’t even know her at all.

Joyce’s blood started to boil.

“Say please,” she snapped, glaring at him. It wasn’t what Hopper said; it was how he said it.

He locked eyes with Joyce, not budging, and now it was her turn to roll her eyes. It didn’t take long before she gave in and grabbed his pack of smokes from the drawer under the counter, adding them to the total, punching the price in with a tepid fury. So much for peace on earth and goodwill to men. Not only was he making her late, but he was ruining her mood now too.

Her cheeks smoldered, but Joyce held her tongue, fighting the burning desire to tell him off. A small part of her recalled that this is what always happened between them: she’d go out of her way to initiate the conversation, trying her best to be pleasant, if not a bit friendly (sometimes even a bit flirty). Hop would instantly go on the defense with an ignorant remark or two. She would retort to start the fight, and then they were off to the races. Both would walk away smarting, leaving all the words they shouldn’t have said hanging in the air for all of Hawkins to see. Everyone in town knew that Joyce and Hopper were on the outs and had been for a long while.

But after all the damn self-help books she had read that year, it finally clicked: They didn’t have to ride on this merry-go-round of hurt feelings anymore. She knew she could break the cycle if she really wanted to. Truth be told, she missed his companionship, and if there was one thing Joyce was in need of right now, it was a friend… maybe even something more. It drove her batty how much she wanted to console him as a friend, throttle him like a nemesis and rip his clothes off all at the same damn time.

Clearing her throat, she spoke up again, refusing to give in to his silent treatment, “Got any plans for the holidays?”

He grunted in response, making her venture a guess that was a “no,” or “none of your business,” — possibly both.

Joyce carried on, fidgeting with the box of wine. She looked for the price, instead of at him, “Well, the boys and I are planning a big breakfast on Christmas morning, um, since I work Christmas Eve. You should stop by. I mean, if you don’t have anything else going on…“ She side-eyed his reaction and set the wine aside.

Hopper’s eyes narrowed. His mouth drew tight at her words as if he was considering it for a split second, before he declined with a curt, "No, thank you.” Didn’t even bother with an excuse.

The outright dismissal took her back by surprise before she quickly recovered with a half-shrug, half-smile.

“Oh okay, maybe next year,” she said, just hoping she didn’t look as defeated as she felt.

With a sober nod, Hopper let his attention fall to the items on the counter between them. He passed them off to Joyce without another word as she rang them up, one by one. With each button pressed, the silence between them grew more and more awkward. Joyce expected some pushback from Hopper, but this was really taking the cake. Here she was, putting herself out there, doing her best to extend an olive branch during the holiday season, and he was still holding a grudge. Un-be-lievable.

She wasn’t about to give up, though. She wanted to make it clear to him that this little game they continued to play year after year had gone on long enough. They were both adults now, and it was time to put their differences aside. Forgive and forget.

Joyce would melt Hopper’s little Grinch heart, even if it killed her.

She gave him his receipt and change, slowing down to let the tips of her fingers pause over the palm of his hand. Joyce lingered for a slow, taciturn moment until she finally caught his eye, her thumb brushing over his. Hopper’s steely demeanor softened at her touch, if only for a brief moment in time, and there it was: a fleeting glimpse of the man she once knew.

Her voice was quiet when she spoke again, "Merry Christmas, Hop.”

His acknowledgment was barely there, but unmistakable. He gave a subtle squeeze back before pocketing the change.

To an outsider, it would have looked like nothing more than a momentary pause between acquaintances or perfect strangers, but to them, it was a spark of hope on the longest night of the year.

“Merry Christmas, Joy,” the words tumbled from his mouth like he didn’t want to say it, but she could tell he meant it nevertheless. And just as quickly as the moment fell over them, it passed.

Without another word, he opened the pack of Camels and lit up, ignoring the ‘No-Smoking’ sign taped to the wall behind Joyce. She didn’t bother to say anything, watching, amused as a puff of smoke enveloped him in the dark of the store, like a magician making his grand exit. Loading up his arms, he took one last glance to make sure he got everything and was on his way. Her heart was heavy to watch him go, but what could she do? Chase after him? Beg him to talk it out? Force him to be her friend again? It was going to have to be on his terms if anything, and it was clear to her now that he wasn’t ready to make nice.

The door swung open before Hop could reach it, and Will ran into Melvald’s only to stop short, practically colliding head first into the beer.

“Chief,” Jonathan nodded politely.

“Hi uh, M-mister Hopper,” Will smiled up at the tall man he recognized as his mom’s old friend before running over to her counter to grab his hat from her outstretched hand.

"Hi baby,” Joyce beamed at her youngest, admiring his costume. “You look great! Very Dickens!”

Will proudly donned the pageboy hat for his mother’s approval and grabbed the crutch. “Thank you! Love you! See you at school,” he called to Joyce over his shoulder, running back to where Jonathan was offering his assistance to Hopper.

“Need a hand with that, sir?” The teen didn’t bother to wait for a response from the police chief, shifting his camera bag upon his shoulder, and grabbing the bottles off the top of the stack, while Will held the door for them.

Hopper could only watch it happen; he was bombarded by the trio of Byers’ and completely caught off guard. He looked down at the two smiling boys in front of him before looking back at Joyce, who was glowing at the sight of her polite, little men.

“Fine,” he huffed. “Take these, too.”

Jonathan grabbed the six-packs without hesitation from under Hopper’s arm and started for the door while Joyce stifled a giggle, drawing the attention of all three.

“So I’ll uh, meet you boys at the school in twenty,” she told her sons before turning to Hop. “Nice to see you,” she smiled, her heart fluttering just the tiniest bit when it was returned.

It might not have been a complete reconciliation like Joyce had hoped for, but she would accept it for what it was; a Christmas armistice in their war. With it came a renewed sense of hope that 1983 could be a fresh start for the both of them.

The boys led Hopper to his marked Chevy parked out in front of the store. The snow was finally tapering off as the temperature started to drop, the tiny flakes sparkling in the soft glow of Hawkin’s street lamps wrapped up in pretty red bows. The street was empty and quiet, the fresh snowfall making it seem like they were the only ones left in town.

"You in a play or something, Tiny Tim?” Hopper called out to the younger Byers boy, who was running ahead outside the store.

“Yeah!” Will turned back to him at the truck and raised the crutch in the air as Hopper approached. “How’d you know?”

“Just a guess… Your mom’s real proud, I can tell,” Hopper smirked at the kid, despite himself. “Y’know, she used to star in all the school plays when she was your age, too.” He glanced behind the Byers boys to the storefront, where he could see Joyce locking the door behind them. The urge to go back and talk to her was pulling at him now, but he stayed firmly in place.

Jonathan opened the trunk and started to load up the back of the Blazer while the Chief was distracted, exchanging a look with his little brother. Turning back to Hopper, Jonathan grabbed the last of the load from the older man and his attention.

“We have an extra ticket, you know.”

“Oh?” Hopper mumbled, Jonathan’s words breaking him from his daze. Firing the styrofoam cups in behind the booze, he slammed the trunk hatch and took a long drag off the cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth. He glanced back, but she was gone.

“It was supposed to be for my dad but… he’s not coming,” Will was looking glum, poking holes in the fluffy snow with the end of Tiny Tim’s crutch.

Rage prickled the inside of Hopper’s chest as he took in the sad sight. He instantly wished he knocked Lonnie’s teeth in a lot sooner than he did.

“You should come,” Jonathan perked up, offering Lonnie’s ticket to the other man. “She won’t mind.”

Hopper highly doubted Joyce would agree with that statement. But then again, after her little grab at attention in Melvald’s just now… maybe the kid was right.

“Yeah! You should come,” Will perked up, echoing his brother with a sly look. It was suddenly very apparent the angle was to make him Joyce’s date for the night.

Nope, sorry boys, not happening. Maybe in another life.

“Ah thanks, I’d really like to,” he lied, fishing for the keys in his pocket and a quick excuse. “But I have to get this stuff back to the police department. People are waiting on me, important police business, y’know?” he dropped the last of his smoke to the ground and stamped it out.

“Merry Christmas boys, and thanks for the help.”

He gave the Byers boys a small salute as he climbed into the truck, frantic to get out of there and away from the barrage of emotions his little errand brought with it. The Chevy’s engine roared as it turned over in the cold, making the boys take a step back onto the curb. He didn’t mean to be a jerk, but he was walking a fine line here; he had boundaries to maintain.

Through the fogged up windows, he watched them share a look of disappointment and turn to go.

Hopper’s blackened, frozen heart tapped on his chest to remind him it was still there and he heaved a sighed. Rolling his window down, he called out to Will & Jonathan, “Hey, how about a raincheck for next year?”

"Sure,” Will brightened up instantly.

Hopper choked back his smirk, “Break a leg tonight, kid.”

Jonathan chuckled, and Will waved the crutch again with a laugh, “Thanks!”

There — that could be his good deed for the Byers family this holiday season. Even if he couldn’t keep the raincheck next year, the gesture was enough. While Hopper let his diesel warm up, he watched the boys climb into Lonnie’s beat-up, old Ford.

They were good kids. It was clear Joyce had done her absolute best in raising them on her own over the last three years, even if it was only to spite the asshole who fathered them. Hop was sure Sara and Joyce’s youngest would have made great friends, too. A twinge of sorrow hit him at the realization they never even got the chance to meet.

The brothers waved to him once more as they pulled out of the parking stall, leaving just him and Joyce, the only cars parked on Main Street. Deciding it was a good a time as any to chain smoke, he lit up again and idled, getting lost in his thoughts.

Why did he have to stop there instead of the gas station or grocery store? Sure, Melvald’s was the closest store to the police station, but if he really wanted to, he could have gone out of his way to avoid her altogether. Hopper would be lying to himself if he said that he didn’t stop in to check up on her, to test the waters. He figured if he was feeling lonely, she was probably lonely too…

Turns out, he wasn’t ready. Seeing Joyce only brought the bad feelings bubbling up to the surface, making him feel worse. Now he had all these unfettered emotions to deal with, and lord knows, it would take weeks to get them back in their bottle.

With nearly twenty years of history between them, they had been through so much. Forgive and forget was easier said than done at this point. There were some words you couldn’t take back, and some things you just couldn’t forgive, and it would take a lot more than some simple pleasantries or a soft touch to make him change his mind and start rebuilding all the bridges Joyce Byers burned.

The cigarette had burned down when the chime of the bells jostled him out of his thoughts, his eyes darting to the rearview. Joyce was locking the deadbolt and hadn’t yet noticed that he was still there. He stubbed the butt out in the ashtray, watching closely as she turned around and saw his truck still parked in front of her store. There was no hiding from her now.

She paused, blinking once, twice. The corner of her lips curled.

Hopper’s eyes flicked to the passenger side mirror to watch as she began walking towards her car, head down, stifling a satisfied smirk in her purse.

Watching Joyce struggle to find her keys through the frost-bitten truck windows was a strange mix of bitter and sweet for Hopper. It was a familiar sight, almost comforting, like shaking up a snowglobe and watching it settle. A shimmer of frost and foggy breath swirled around her head like a halo, and he swore she glowed like a goddamn angel under the lamplight. He fought the impulse to roll down the window and say something, anything, knowing full well a she-devil still lurked underneath that pretty little exterior.

Danger, Will Robinson. Time to tread lightly, think logically and not let his festering feelings get the better of him.

She threw him one last look over the roof of the Pinto to let him know she saw him watching her, before climbing in and starting her car. It was the same look that she always shot him right before ripping him to shreds: exasperated, like she was tired of his shit. Hopper had grown to hate that look, yet it still wound him up all the same. She was teasing him now.

He shook his head, shaming her for playing games.

Joyce shook her head back and flipped him the bird.

Hop narrowed his eyes at her. Very mature.

She wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out, hesitating before finally waving goodbye. Hopper chuckled to himself as Joyce put the car in reverse, a serene sense of nostalgia settling over him then.

She must have felt it too. Glancing back to him one more time, a tiny smile played about her lips.

He nodded a simple farewell, and she returned it before driving off towards the school, retreating into the dark and silent night. Once she disappeared around the corner, he started to make his way back to the party at the station, turning the radio on to distract himself.

Hopper wasn’t quite ready to let Joyce back in just yet. Even if they could go back to being friends… Did he really think he could be open with her? Allow himself to be vulnerable? Not when it still felt like everything he ever loved had been taken away from him too soon (including her, more than once).

He’d see how the new year panned out, but he wasn’t sure if he could ever shake this feeling it might never be the same again.

But, dammit if he didn’t miss her anyway.

#jopper #stranger things #fanfiction #joyce byers #jim hopper #joyce byers x jim hopper #stranger things fanfiction #fanfic #joyce x hopper #if the fates allow #christmas fic

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