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once-upon-an-imagine · 2 years

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Another One Bites The Dust - Eddie Munson & Steve Harrington

A/N: sorry it was a day later, but I was able to complete this and I’m quite happy of how it turned out! also, I need more Argyle in my stories xD he’s just such a wholesome character! :D hope you loves like this!

Request - hobisfavoritespritecan asked: Hello!! I saw your Steddie X Reader post and I was thrilled to see that we couldn't possibly choose between the two so we settled for both 😈 Anyways, I was wondering if maybe you could write something along the lines of the reader and her boys at a party? And then some guy tries to flirt with her and he's really pushy so he says "What are you going to do about it, call your boyfriend?" And then the reader is like "Actually I have two." AND THEN THEY BEAT HIS ASS?!Thank you I hope you're having a lovely day 💛🦐

Warning: polyamorous!relationship (SteddiexReader); Andy being an asshole and harassing the reader; there’s a party so there’s drinking involved and Eddie’s a little high; Steve beating the shit out of Andy (and winning a fight!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own Stranger Things :) gifs aren’t mine :D

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Another One Bites The Dust

But I'm ready, yes I'm ready for you I'm standing on my own two feet Out of the doorway the bullets rip Repeating to the sound of the beat Another one bites the dust

"Hey, there's my favorite Hawkins girl, man!" you heard a familiar voice behind you and you turned around with a big smile on your face.

"There's my favorite California man, man!" you ran, throwing your arms around Argyle and he wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you a little. He honestly gave the best hugs. Not that you would ever admit that to any of your boyfriends. "I didn't know you were coming!"

"Of course, I was coming, man. It's Jonathan's birthday!" he smiled. "Shit, man. Wheeler really outdid herself" he said, looking around.

"Right?" you laughed, looking at all the people around. "Steve and Eddie are gonna freak when they see you" you told him.

"Where are they, man? I was looking for them, thought they'd be with you" he said.

"They're outside. I think Eddie's handling business" you smirked. "And Steve always gets dragged into some drinking game or actual game so... I set them free for the night" you winked at him.

"That's my man!" he said, high-fiving you. "I'm gonna go say hey, but I'll come back and talk to you, okay?"

"Okay" you smiled. "Hey, if you see one of the kids with a beer, tell them I'm watching them!" you said and he just nodded back to you. "Hey, Robin-"

"I did a stupid thing!" she said, running towards you.

"What did you do?"

"I told Nancy we would sing in the karaoke thing-"

"You did what?" you widened your eyes at her. "I don't want to sing!"

"I don't want to either but she was really insisting, you know how she gets and she was looking at me with those huge eyes that she makes a-and Vickie was nearby and she thought it would be cool if we sang so-"

"Oh, so we're singing to impress Vickie, are we?" you smirked.

"Please, as my designated best friend-"

"I thought Steve was your best friend-"

"Well, you're his girlfriend so, that makes you my best friend too, so please?" she begged.

"Fine, but if we're doing this, I need to be a lot more wasted than I am right now" you chuckled and she laughed, pulling you over to the table full of drinks.

"Well, shit, this must be my lucky night" you heard a very unpleasant, and unfortunately familiar voice when you arrived. You looked up to find Andy standing there with some of his friends.

"I would assume so since I honestly doubt Nancy invited you" you glared at him with Robin.

"Oh, don't be like that, babe. Wheeler said it was an open house" he smirked.

"Don't call me babe" you glared at him.

"Come on, relax, babe. It's a party" he said, getting closer to you but you walked backwards, pulling Robin with you. "Here" he said, offering you the drink in his hand.

"I would honestly rather die of dehydration than drink anything you give me" you glared at him.

"Why must you always be so hostile with me, babe? I'm just trying to be nice" he said, taking a sip of the drink. "See you around" he said, winking at you and walking away.

"Fuck, I hate him" you muttered as you started making your drink and Robin's.

"He's a fucking asshole" Robin added. "Have you... told Steve about him? Or Eddie?"

"Not really" you said, handing her one of the drinks. "I mean, Andy is all talk, and I don't want them getting into any fights for me" you told her. "Eddie's graduating this year, so I have to make sure he avoids things like fighting" you explained. "And Steve..."

"Can't fight for shit" Robin chuckled, finishing for you.

"Yeah, thanks for not making me say it" you laughed.

"But, I mean, he knows about you and Steve and Eddie, right?"

"Yeah, I have told him a million times, but it just... doesn't stick" you said, frustrated. "I always tell him that I'm in a relationship but I honestly think he doesn't care. And he keeps on thinking it's only one" you told her. "But look, I can handle Andy, like I said, he's all talk" you said, rolling your eyes. "Now, to the matter at hand" you said, raising your glass. "If you want me singing with you... let's get wasted!"

"Cheers" Robin smiled, clinking her glass with you.

Several drinks later, you were feeling a little relaxed and thinking you could sing with Robin, who couldn't really stop laughing at the moment.

"Hey, do you think Argyle will sing with us?" she asked between laughs.

"Oh my God! We should totally get Argyle to sing with us!" you said as if it was the best idea you had ever heard in your life. "I'm gonna go look for him!"

"Alright, but hurry up because Nancy said we're up next" Robin shouted your way as you ran outside.

You stumbled through the Wheeler's living room to make your way outside and realized you might be a bit drunker than you initially intended to be. But it was fine, Eddie and Steve were here. And Nancy said you could spend the night if you needed to. You missed a step in the living room and felt a hand grabbing your arm, rather roughly.

"Watch your step, babe" Andy smirked, gripping your arm, tightly.

"Don't fucking touch me!" you said, getting out of his grip.

"That's the thank you that I get for helping?"

"Stay away from me, Andy" you glared at him. "I mean it" you said, walking away from him as quickly as you could and making your way outside. You were still looking back to make sure Andy wouldn't follow you. He only smirked and winked at you until you bumped into someone.

"Hey, princess" you felt relieved when you heard that voice and you turned around to see Eddie smiling at you. "You okay?" he asked, looking at the frown on your face.

"Eds" you smiled, throwing your arms around you. "Hi" you said, giving him a peck on the lips.

"Are you drunk?" he smirked.

"Are you high?" you asked, with the same smirk.

"Fair question" he said, giving you another kiss. "Don't tell Steve" the two of you said at the same time and laughed.

"What's up, man?" you heard Argyle's voice next to you.

"Argyle! Just the man I was looking for!" you said, pulling away from Eddie.

"Excuse me?" Eddie asked, sounding hurt. "What's that supposed to mean?" he pouted.

"It means, Robin is forcing me to sing karaoke with her, which is why I'm drunk, and we are recruiting Argyle to sing with us" you smiled at him. "Because I know you wouldn't want to sing our songs" you told him. "And Steve wouldn't want to either" you finished.

"I love how smart you are, princess" he said, pulling you closer and kissing your head.

"So, what do you say?"

"Alright, man! Right on!" Argyle said, excitedly as the three of you walked back into the living room.

"Guys! We're up!" Robin said, waving you two over.

"Good luck, princess" Eddie said, kissing your cheek. "Hey, Steve! You gotta see this!"

You would probably never admit it, but you were having more fun than you thought you would singing and dancing around with Robin and Argyle. Maybe it was the alcohol. Of course, it was the alcohol. And the fact that Steve and Eddie kept smiling adorably at you as you danced and laughed. You three were probably the most uncoordinated trio to ever exist, but you definitely made up by the energy and the passion you were bringing to the song.

A gathering of angels Appeared above my head They sang to me this song of hope And this is what they said, they said Come sail away, come sail away, come sail away with me, lads Come sail away, come sail away, come sail away with me

"That was more fun than I thought it would be" Robin laughed as you three finished the song and the people around you cheered, including your lovely boyfriends.

"That was fucking awesome, my dudes!" Argyle said, hugging you two at his sides.

"It really was" you laughed. "But I'm parched, I'm gonna go get some water" you told them. "You guys want anything?"

"Nah, I'm cool. I’m gonna go get some pizza! Later, ladies" Argyle said, before walking over to Jonathan and Nancy.

"I'm actually gonna go talk to Vickie" Robin said, excitedly as Vickie smiled at her from the other side of the living room.

"Go Robs, what are you still doing here?" you said, pushing her away and smiling when she reached Vickie. You then started to make your way to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

"Well that was quite a fucking show, babe" you heard that fucking voice behind you. You slowly turned around and, of course, stupid Andy was standing there with his stupid smirk. "You looked really sexy-"

"What the fuck do you want, Andy?" you asked, rolling your eyes. It was really getting tiresome. He was never really this insistent. Usually, it would be like a stupid comment a day while he passed you in the hall at school.

"Ouch, why do you always have to be so mean to me?" he asked, pretending to be hurt. "I'm trying to pay you a compliment here-"

"Well, I don't really want it" you said, trying to walk past him but he blocked your way.

"Come on, babe" he said, trying to reach out to your face but you slapped his hand away.

"I told you to not fucking touch me!" you said, walking backwards.

"Come on, babe. How long are you still going to pretend you don't want me?" he smirked.

"I'm not pretending!" you complained. "I'm going to tell you this one last time so you get it through your thick skull. I am not interested. Now, leave me the fuck alone, or I swear, you're gonna regret it" you said, trying to walk past him again, but he pulled you back by your wrist, harshly. "What the fuck-?"

"Look, I've been trying to be nice here, babe, but I'm really starting to lose my patience" he said as you tried to remove your wrist from his tight grip, but you failed.

"Let go of me" you said between clenched teeth. "NOW!"

"What are you going to do about it, call your boyfriend?" he laughed, saying the last word in a mocking tone. "You know, you keep saying that but I haven't even seen anyone with you tonight, are you just making it up? Do you really have a boyfriend?"

"Well, actually..." you smirked, feeling relieved when you saw two very familiar figures standing behind Andy. "I have two."

"Two?" Andy laughed, still not letting go of your wrist. You saw Steve and Eddie share a look between them and you knew what they were planning. "Come on, babe. Either that's the most pathetic excuse you've tried on me, or you are the biggest slut in our school-"

"What the fuck did you just say?" Eddie asked, stepping closer to him with Steve.

Andy's smirk instantly dropped as he turned around to face your boyfriends.

"Munson, Harrington" he said, glaring at them. "Why don't you walk away, this doesn't really concern you" he insisted. How stupid can this guy really be?

"It does when you still have your fucking hands on our girlfriend and she's told you to let go" Steve said in a quiet, furious tone.

"Your what-?" he asked, looking back at you. "Oh shit! This is fucking priceless! The freak Munson and Has Been Harrington are your boyfriends?" he laughed.

"Mhm" you smiled proudly. "And they told you to let go of me" you repeated, pulling away from him and succeeding this time and quickly making your way to your boyfriends, who placed you behind them.

"This asshole bothering you, princess?" Eddie asked you.

"Yes" you pouted, dramatically. "He's been bothering me for weeks, but he doesn't seem to take no for an answer" you told them.

You were getting sick of Andy. And, as much as he had bothered you before, he had never touched you until today. So that made you feel absolutely uncomfortable. If he wasn't going to listen to you, you were sure he would listen to Steve and Eddie.

"Is that so?" Steve said, glaring at Andy.

"That's not true-!" he glared at you, trying to walk in your direction, but Steve and Eddie blocked his way from you.

"So you're calling her a liar?" Steve asked, pushing him back.

"Our girl doesn't lie, man" Eddie said, glaring at him. Andy chuckled, trying to seem unfazed by the whole thing but you could tell he was feeling a little intimidated.

"I'm telling you, freak. She was enjoying it" he said, making Steve and Eddie clench their fist. You could actually feel them trembling in anger. "Not my fault she's not satisfied even having two of you the sl-"

Eddie threw his arm back and punched Andy hard in the face, making him stumble backwards. As soon as he was going to come back and attack Eddie, Steve got in the middle, throwing several punches himself, making Andy fall to the floor. He then launched himself onto Andy and kept on punching him.

"Talk shit about my girlfriend and boyfriend again! I fucking dare you!" you heard him say between punches. The truth was, you had never seen Steve like this, and neither you nor Eddie seemed to be able to move to stop him.

"Holy shit" you two muttered at the same time. "Are you as turned on as I am, princess?" Eddie whispered to you.

"Yes" was the only thing you could reply.

"STEVE!" you turned around to see Nancy at the entrance of the kitchen with Jonathan, Argyle, Robin, and pretty much everyone else in the entire party. "Eddie, do something!" she yelled, walking next to the two of you.

"Are you shitting me, Wheeler? My guy's actually winning!" Eddie chuckled.

"Guys! This isn't funny!" she told you, looking worried that Steve might get hurt, but it seemed like he was doing fine for himself.

"Yeah, alright, break it up, love" you told Eddie, who pouted a little at you. "Eddie, he's bleeding!" you said, referring to Andy. Although he was kind of bleeding since Eddie punched him on the nose with all of his rings.

"Fine" he sighed, rolling his eyes, and walked over to Steve. "Alright, that's enough, big boy, come on" he said, pulling him off Andy.

"No!" Steve said, landing on a final kick on Andy's stomach. "He doesn't get to fucking talk about you two like that-"

"I know, love. But you're done" Eddie smiled sweetly, giving Steve a peck on the lips and pulling him away. Meanwhile, you saw some of Andy's friends taking him away as Nancy yelled at them that they weren't even supposed to be there so they needed to get out of her house so Jonathan and Argyle made sure to kick them out. "You did good, King Steve" Eddie smirked, pulling him to the fridge where you waited for them with an icepack.

"Hi, handsome" you said, placing the icepack on his bruised hands and kissing his cheek.

"Dude!" Dustin said, excitedly as he stood there with Mike, Will, and Lucas. "You did it!" he smiled and Steve smirked back at him. "You won a fight!"

"That was fucking insane!" Lucas said, just as excited.

"Alright, people" Robin said. "Nothing to see here. Show's over!" she said, ushering everyone out of the kitchen leaving you three alone.

"C'mere, love" you said, hopping on the counter and pulling Steve closer, kissing his forehead. You then placed the icepack on his left cheek where a bruise was forming from the few punches Andy managed to give back. "You okay?"

"I am" he smiled, pulling Eddie closer. "Sorry, I just lost it-"

"Don't apologize, Harrington! That was fucking hot" Eddie said, kissing his cheek and Steve smiled a bit proudly.

"Why hadn't you told us about Andy?" he asked, looking at you and you sighed, putting the icepack down.

"Because it was nothing-"

"Princess, this isn't nothing" Eddie said, gently grabbing your hand where you could see a bruise forming on your wrist.

"He had never done that before" you insisted. "He only said stupid things-"

"Still" Steve said, holding your other hand. "You should have told us" he frowned.

"I know. I'm sorry" you sighed. "I just... didn't want Eddie to fight him because you have to graduate this year" you said, making him laugh a little. "And... well-"

"I can't fight for shit" Steve rolled his eyes.

"Well, you couldn't! How was I supposed to know you got better at it? When did that happen?"

"You know, you two could give me a little credit. I just won a fucking fight for you" he pouted and Eddie hugged him closer, kissing him.

"Hey! What about me?" you asked, looking at them with puppy eyes and you gave each one a kiss. "Thanks" you smiled, happily. "Sorry I didn't tell you about Andy before, I really didn't want you guys to worry. And he honestly had never done something like this before. He only said stupid things while walking down the hall" you told them. "And I did tell him many times that I had two boyfriends, I swear-"

"We know, love" Eddie said, softly. "We trust you. It's not your fault he's an enormous asshole who wouldn't take no for an answer" he assured you.

"Still" Steve said, stroking your thigh with his firm hand. "Maybe we need to go home and remind you that you are taken" he said, with a look you knew too well.

"No" you simply said, making him frown. "We're going to go home and Eddie and I are going to thank you for being our brave knight in shining armor" you smirked back at him.

"I'm down with any of those plans" Eddie smiled, happily, giving each of you a kiss.

"Let's get out of here then" Steve said, helping you down the counter. They started walking out of the kitchen but you stood in your place, pulling them back. "What?"

"I love you" you told them, giving each a kiss on the cheek.

"Me too" Eddie said, wrapping his arm around you.

"Me three" Steve said, kissing your temple and hugging you both closer.

The End

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Song: Come Sail Away - Styx

A/N hope you liked it :D let me know what you think! :)

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the-takosader · 11 months

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Fretting About Frets

You ever wonder why there's fretless basses, but less commonly fretless guitars? I have. I also want to see what a fretless guitar would actually be like to play.

So, what would it sound like? I honestly don't know. A fretless bass is intuitive. A fretless guitar would not be. Why's that? Well, a bass is a simple animal of an instrument. You hold the string down tightly at a point along the fretboard, you pluck the string, and it makes a very satisfying noise if you get it right.

A guitar is... Not That. Your fingers have to hold the strings in the right places to make a chord. You move your fingers up or down even a single fret, and suddenly, you make a dissonant chord, or it won't sound right, or whatever.

Now, a fretless bass lets glissandi have more freedom in the notes. Glissandi (sing. glissando) is the music term for a glide between one note and another. The movement between 7-0-12 on Dear Prudence's bassline is a glissando, though quite complicated. The full sequence (repeated several times in the song) is as follows (all on one string, so it's not like it has to include the full diagram, but I'll include it anyway):

G---------------------------------------------- D-7-7-0-12-10-10-0-10-9-9-0-9-8-8-0-8- A---------------------------------------------- E----------------------------------------------

What would this sound like on a fretless? Heck if I know. However, what's probably certain is that the sound of the glide would be cleaner.

So what's all this got to do with the concept of a fretless guitar? Well, a fretless guitar, in this concept, would still have the frets marked on the board, as a guide to where to place your fingers for certain chord structures. On top of that, though, would also be the potential to make some very interesting music, that is, if it were reasonable to play.

Now, I know that fretless guitars are indeed a thing already. But where's the point in buying one when you can make one, and for a much cheaper price? Sounds awesome, right?

Well, not really. De-fretting a fretboard is, surprisingly enough, hard. To do so, you need a specific tool to remove the frets, but on top of that, you need to make sure that you remove the frets without taking out half the wood with it (in this case, rosewood).

Then, on top of that, you need to fill in the holes where the frets were with wood filler. Not a whole lot of pain, but that's gonna be hell to wait for. And while you wait for that, you have to decide whether you're going to make more of a Frankenstein of a guitar (body mismatched with headstock) or limit your fucking up of this instrument. Me? I'd use a full Epiphone Casino kit if I could. Guess I should explain why.

The Epiphone Casino is a marvellous guitar. For one, it's built like a Gretsch Tennessean, or if you want a more modern example, the standard ESP body of a guitar. Now, what do I mean by this? Well, I mean that it's got f-holes. ...Hey, get your mind out of the gutter! F-holes, on an instrument, are those squiggly lines you'd generally see on something like a violin or cello. The Epiphone Casino also has those.

But you might be wondering: "Are they functional? Or just decorative?" Well, despite its thin construction, the Casino is hollow-bodied. So yes, they are functional. And, it sounds like you'd expect for any normal acoustic. But when you plug it in, there's where you get your good sound. As an example, I'll use John Lennon's playing. His playing on tracks like Revolution and The End are half-defined by how he plays, and how it sounds. And oh BOY, does it sound good. There's a difference between power and punch. But with that sound, you CANNOT tell the difference. It straddles the fine line between hit in the face and beautiful to listen to.

...Oh yeah, if you couldn't tell, the title's a misnomer. I'm not really fretting about anything. If anything, I'm fretless!

...I'm sorry.

#guitar #the beatles #epiphone casino #bass #fretless guitar #surprisingly no tag for fretless guitar existed #interesting #again sorry for the horrible pun

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existentialmagazine · 11 months

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Review: Marlene Larsen’s newest single ‘I Said I’m Fine’ embraces a nostalgically warm sound with lyrical poignance

Settling into 90’s inspired indie soft rock, the up-comer Marlene Larsen has coined a sound you can’t help but fall for immediately from first listen. On stage - along with her right hand woman Hélène Badouin - Marlene also puts on a performance that’s unforgettable, showing off her skillsets in all avenues and always doing it at 110%. Sharing her second single from her debut EP, Marlene boasts ‘I Said I’m Fine’ , one of five strong and bittersweet tracks that tie together many of her own experiences for others to relate along with.

Resting at four and a half minutes in length, ‘I Said I’m Fine’ is a release that urges you to curl up and listen deeply, following along with Marlene’s carefully crafted instrumental and lyrical journey that’s deeply intertwined. Nostalgically led by warm steady beats and deep bass twangs, the soundscape of ‘I Said I’m Fine’ is immediately established to be easy-going and soft, somewhere between a little somber but comforting nonetheless. As the pre-chorus changes up the tone a little, the instrumentals fade into intermittent beats and bright guitar strums, embodying more of a vibrant momentary lapse whilst being intimate all at once. The chorus falls back into the track’s bedding of melancholia, resuming steady beats and scratchier bass twangs, mesmerising you on the journey that plays out. All the while things play out, Marlene’s gorgeously airy, soft vocals soar through a higher range that so effortlessly complements the track’s more downbeat sound, a complete contrast that together interweaves delicacy and poignance to a tee. With a crescendo to conclude the track’s slowly ebbing sound, ‘I Said I’m Fine’ erupts into an emotionally invigorated high depicted through clashing drums, shimmer guitar riffs and strums, resounding bass and an all around hazy reverberation you can’t help but get completely lost within. As a slow burner, Marlene has not just made a song worth listening to the entire way through, but a mesmerising piece of art to be cherished for a long time to come.

Lyrically as you’d expect from such a haunting sound, ‘I Said I’m Fine’ paints a deeply resonant picture of unrequited feelings and over-romanticisation, losing yourself in someone while they don’t even cast a look in your direction. Heavily soaked in lyrics that are vastly open to interpretation, Marlene’s unravelling mental love affair is one that you have to unpack all on your own, making your own conclusions and connections between the journey of heartbreak and self-love she’s embarked upon. From the line ‘I went through the blue, straight into your soul, that’s criminal’ , it’s almost alluded that Marlene’s found herself escaping her darker emotions by replacing the hole they left with the visions of her new obsession, filling her emptiness with dreams of a lover to take the space. But just as much as someone can bring joy, they can quickly take it away, and further lyrics like ‘my obsessive brain was full of the ghost of you’ embody the pain and cyclical thoughts that come with losing someone that perhaps was never hers to begin with. The heart-wrenching chorus makes it clear she’s continuing to struggle thoughout, repeating lines and singing ‘I’m fine, one more time and they’ll believe you’, desperate not just to convince others but to also convince herself she’s coping much better than she truly is. A final climax ties it all together, showing a thoughtful level of introspection as Marlene reveals ‘it was never about you, it’s what it says about me’, knowing that perhaps all along she needed to work on herself and deal with her emotions. Whilst that’s what we inferred from the gorgeous journey that Marlene tells, ‘I Said I’m Fine’ is a truly wondrous piece of art you can appreciate in so many ways, detailing a story worth unpacking, relating to and finding yourself in too.

Check out ‘I Said I’m Fine’ here to cascade through Marlene’s dreamy sound and poignant message that embodies an all too relatable struggle with mental health and self-worth.

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

Photo Credits: XUS Photography

// This coverage was created via Musosoup, #SustainableCurator.

#music #singlereview #marlenelarsen

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longjoomla · 2 years

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Weatherman song sea shanty

#WEATHERMAN SONG SEA SHANTY FULL#

Sea shanties are not the first pandemic example of a virtual but collective musical experience that has ascended to the big trend of the day. Maybe it’s just because “Wellerman” is a great, boisterous bop of a song in any century.īut I don’t think so. Maybe it’s a coincidence that millions of TikTokers are finding delight in a centuries-old music genre meant to bind separate bodies together into one shared, cooperative action. We’re all stuck staring at tiny screens in our own tiny individual boxes, desperately wanting to sing loudly into a stranger’s face while knowing that singing loudly into a stranger’s face is incredibly dangerous right now. Every news story is about division, deadlock, anger, and the massive gulf between the left and the right. Right now, it’s not safe to gather in groups. They are unifying, survivalist songs, designed to transform a huge group of people into one collective body, all working together to keep the ship afloat. One person is the song leader, setting the pace and singing the verses, but the engine of the song is in the repeating chorus that everyone sings together over and over again. They’re songs with simple, blunt rhythms, meant to be easy to learn and easy to sing along with while doing the hard physical work of sailing a large fishing vessel. The sea shanty seems like the strangest possible pick for this year’s new, hot music trend, but as a longtime sea-shanty fan (what can I say, I’m the type who read Horatio Hornblower novels in high school), I’m here to tell you that sea shanties make so much sense for this moment, right now. The shock of getting lit to that is what we see register on the face of the dubious TikTok brother. There’s some overlap between sea shanties and African American spirituals that deserves a lot more attention, but the default picture of the sea shanty as a genre is a bunch of white European sailors bellowing “haul away Joe” in harmony. They’re songs about whaling and strong winds, and they sound the way a bowl of New England clam chowder looks: imprecise, sort of lumpy, and, not to put too fine a point on it, very white. Sea shanties are also resiliently uncool.

#WEATHERMAN SONG SEA SHANTY FULL#

Aside from the word Wellerman, they’re full of harpoons and pierheads and the specifics of butchering whales the most recognizable lyrics are lines about “rounding the Cape” and the love of bonny brown-haired lasses. Simplistic in structure, they are deliberately repetitive and full of ideas and references that feel very, very far from life right now. They sound like prehistoric oddities, which is part of the appeal. On the surface, it’s a little weird that digital culture in 2021 would become suddenly obsessed with 200-year-old folk songs about men on whaling boats. (According to a few different sources, a Wellerman” is an employee of the 19th-century Australian whaling company the Weller Bros., and the song is about company ships that would arrive to resupply whaling vessels.) They are both so in the song by the end, singing along happily even though it’s an ancient song and the word Wellerman has been lost to history. As with many of the best TikToks, it’s the naked, transparent sincerity that really sells the video. By the end he’s all in, singing along with the refrains and offering an “oooOO” of harmony as his brother sings the verses. First he’s skeptical of “Wellerman” and then he’s entertained by how much his brother likes it. The magnetic thing about that reaction TikTok is the way the dubious brother gets pulled in. My favorite addition is the sea-shanty reaction video, particularly this one, which has the caption “when I hand my brother the aux”:Ģ021 is the year of the sea shanty /ohOAGvkbtC- Tim - Poster of Hugo Pics January 11, 2021 “Wellerman,” the song that’s gotten especially big in the past few days, has now been remixed and performed by other singers, and other sea shanties have started to pop up. It wasn’t even the first performance of “ Wellerman” I’d seen - in the past month or so, spurred by a Scottish musician named Nathan Evans and others, sea shanties have become increasingly popular on TikTok and then shared widely on other platforms. It was not the first sea shanty I’d seen on TikTok. All of them were links to a TikTok video of several guys singing a song, a sea shanty from the 19th century called “Wellerman,” using TikTok’s duet feature. When I woke up last Friday morning, I realized I had several messages. SeaShantyTok keeps getting better /yWLEHzlPlB- Peter Fries January 8, 2021

#Weatherman song sea shanty

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babblydrabbly · 3 years

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Trust Me Pt. 1 - (Rick Flag x Reader); (Harley Quinn x Reader (Friendship))

Pairing(s): (Rick Flag x Reader); (Harley Quinn x Reader (Friendship)

Characters: Harley Quinn, Rick Flag, Digger Harkness, mentions of Amanda Waller

Rating: General

Word Count: 1.5k+

Warning(s): Language, blood/violence, car accident.

Summary: Imagine you’re occasionally sent on Task Force X missions to back up Flag, but he knows Waller really just sends you to report back any dirt you can find on Rick. You’re a rat (No offense to Sebastian). He keeps you at arms length most of the time, and resents any attempts to be a part of the ‘team’, despite his big speech about treating each other like brothers and sisters. Still, you bond over all the literally suicidal missions, and really do watch each others’ back during the chaos. Rick Flag is torn between you being one of Waller’s spies and how much he cares about you. Part 1/?

---

You were uncomfortable with the assignment to begin with. You’d heard about what happened at Midway before you even transferred to Belle Reve, so when Waller said you’d be assigned to the next few Task Force X missions, you immediately knew why. Amanda Waller did not trust Rick Flag.

Without needing to say it, you were going to report back any and all chatter you considered insubordination between the members of the ‘suicide squad’. You were a rat. And Flag knew it right away. You were adequate in the field, but nothing spectacular; Your real job was working in the comms room during their missions. When the plane touched down on your first tag-a-long, Flag did little to hide the resentment he felt for you.

That was fine. You didn't need to be friends. He kept you at arms length, only speaking to you directly with orders or updates. You rarely spoke at all while out with the team.

That was, until Harley Quinn was reinstated a few missions into your assignment. During the take down of a moving convoy and extraction of an important meta-human asset, Flag looked happy to tell you you’d be driving a hundred miles out into the desert beside the bubbly criminal. He didn’t even give you the dignity of being in charge of driving.

You sat in the passenger seat of the hummer, as Harley blasted the radio and sang without any shame at all. You had a feeling Flag could see your silhouettes from his own vehicle one car back where he was driving with Harkness. You had literal hours to go before your four vehicle team (plus helicopter) even reached the convoy, and Harley’s energy was relentless.

“So, where ya from, hun?” “You got a cute outfit- I’m more prone to a pop of color myself.” “Hey, you ever try peanut butter on a cheeseburger? Hear me out-”

“—Teams report.” Flag’s voice came in through your earpiece after an hour or so. Were you imagining it, or did he seem amused? The members ahead of you check in before you grit your teeth and give a curt, “Fine. Over.”

You gasped as Harley let go of the wheel to stick her body out of the open window, her blonde pigtails whipping around. She waved enthusiastically back at Flag, and you could see in the rearview as he casually waved back from his sunroof behind you. You cursed and snatched the wheel as the hummer swerved, shouting for Harley to get her ass back in the damn car!

You heard a few chuckles and quips over the comms that made your cheeks burn, and you made a note to definitely mark this moment down in your stupid report. Fucking Flag. It wasn’t like you volunteered to be Waller’s little snitch. But you couldn’t help the smile spreading across your face. He was getting bolder. It had been less than a year, and what was once just cold shoulders and dismissals between the two of you was slowly turning into harmless jabs like this one. You even found yourself leaving things out of your reports on occasion. What use was mentioning it if it wasn’t relevant to the task force? Lying by omission for a bunch of murderers and losers— Who were you turning into.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sudden absence of noise— Harley had stopped singing along, instead choosing to bob in her seat to the beat. She glanced at you with a wide grin. Then again. And again.

“Eyes on the road, Quinn.” You practically begged at this point. You pressed your body into your seat anxiously. The dust cloud from the incoming convoy was beginning to blow past your window. Flag’s voice crackled through the comms again to get ready.

“You’re one uptight broad, y’know that?” She said cheerfully. You didn’t know if you were meant to take offense or not. Then, “I like it! Got a real Restin’ Bitch Face.”

“Thank...you?”

“Don’t get me wrong— When a gal’s got on a good RBF, it’s in the name. You’re a bitch. But when a broody guy like Flag’s got one he’s a ‘serious leader’ and a ‘professional’ and a ‘dreamy hunk’.” Harley went on, taking her hands off the wheel to demonstrate her air quotes literally. You gripped your seatbelt in fear as the hummer began swerving again.

“Quinn...”

“Everyone’s always calling me a psycho bitch when I get in the zone, y’know. But then I’m just a crazy bitch when I’m tryin’a keep it fun—!”

“HARLEY!”

Your heart leapt in your throat. As Harley let the vehicle veer back and forth, your attention was suddenly taken by the flash of fire and an explosion just yards ahead of you. The hummer with two other squad members leading the line had been hit with a rocket launcher, sending their vehicle into the air in a burst of flame— and because Harley was driving like a maniac, the explosion had missed your own hummer. Harley and Flag broke the line in a single moment, dodging the car that was now overturned and engulfed in fire.

Hell broke loose then, as it always did.

You remember Harley shouting at you to take the wheel before climbing up to the mounted gun on the roof. Chatter erupted on the comms as Waller’s team directed the helicopter above and the rest of you still converged on the target. The plan was to never stop, to keep driving and extract the asset while all teams kept up with the convoy. You remember seeing a car pull up beside Flag in your side mirror, a rifle pointing right at him through all the dust and cross fire.

But the beauty of Task Force X was how laughably terrible these guys were at not following the plan. You catch a flash of red and blue as Harley leapt onto the enemy’s truck, abandoning her post on the hummer to go get the asset herself. Waller’s orders were meaningless in moments like this, and she knew it. They would either accomplish the mission their way, or they were dead.

That’s what the suicide squad did— was that really you? You looked in your rearview again in time to catch Harkness collapse onto the hood of Flag’s vehicle, a splotch of red visible on his chest even from where you were. You heard Waller’s voice in your head already dismissing Boomer’s loss by the end of all this.

But you also heard Rick, his voice concerned but steady in your ear as he ordered Harkness to hang on while he attempted to lose the car still beside them.

You sucked in a breath, and with a sudden jerk of the wheel, you lined yourself up with the enemy car behind you— And slammed on the breaks.

---

You had to come back to Belle Reve on a separate jet with Harkness, who also needed medical care before being sent back. Harley, despite her protests to see that you were both okay, was returned to her cell without so much as a ‘good job’ from Waller. Flag locked the caged door behind her with a murmur that he’d send word about Boomer soon.

You landed in Louisiana with a fractured arm and ten stitches along your right temple. They had to reset your shoulder too. The bruising on the right side of your face made you look worse than you felt, but you still had to keep your face still from pulling the stitches. As you shuffled down the exit stairs, dragging your duffle behind you, you were startled when you looked up to see Rick Flag on the tarmac approaching you quickly.

His brow furrowed, he immediately greeted you with a gruff, “Hey.”

“Hey—” You said back, feeling your bag being taken from you. He peels it from your fingers, your wrists brushing. No ‘[L/N]’, no curt nod. You watched as Flag slung the duffle over his broad shoulder and gestured back to the SUV he’d driven over to receive you from the Belle Reve air field without a word. When you approach your door, you stare as Flag uncharacteristically holds it open for you, then promptly shuts it, your bag placed down in the back seat.

The drive back to the main compound was usually brief, but today it felt like an eternity. You glanced over as Flag glared at the road ahead, and you remembered what Harley said about his... What did she call it? RBF? Dreamy bitch face?

Silence.

“Am I fired?” You finally said, your voice piercing the dead quiet of the car.

Flag blinked, looking between you and the road as if pulled from his own thoughts. “No, what?”

“Am I fired?” You repeated. Then grumbled, “Feels like you’re rushing me to an exit interview.”

“You're not fired.” He replied in his drawl, still distracted. “And I’m tryin’a hustle you to your debrief with Waller so you can get home and rest.”

He put the car in park, the silence falling over you again deafening now that the engine was off. You sneak another glance over at him to see him staring ahead, his large hands still gripping the wheel tightly.

“Are... You okay, Flag?”

“Are you okay?” He suddenly snapped. He released the wheel, turning his chest to face you in his seat. You reeled a little, confused at the sudden anger that seemed to release like a burst dam.

“Stitches, a broken arm. You got lucky, [L/N]. What the hell were you thinking?” He continued, voice raising. And it was like muscle memory, the way your uncertainty vanished, your body turning in your own seat to square up to Rick Flag, Colonel pain in the ass. He was chastising you now? After you just saved his fucking life?

You said as much, your face shutting down, on the defense. Typical Rick Flag. The thought was written on your face, your contempt like a flashing billboard.

Flag’s lips parted, a sharp intake of breath telling you he was about to fire back— because that’s what the two of you did— but instead he surprised you by promptly clamping the sharp line of his jaw shut. That silence fell like a wall between the two of you once more, and Rick turned to face forward, his gaze leaving you and taking all the fire with it. You watch his Adam’s apple bob minutely, something unreadable washing over his features before he mutters,

“Waller’s waiting for you in comms. Better hustle.”

#rick flag x reader #rick flag #harley quinn #tss 2021 #mywords*#reader is a genius. very smort.

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dourpeep · 3 years

Note

you asked for albedo stuff yesterday and i forgot to give you some 🥲 here

-Albedo bites the ends of his pencil/pen while in deep thought

-He covers his mouth while laughing

-His hair is a huge problem to becoming messy so he usually keeps it in one style bc he sucks at styling hair

-I believe he would hyperfocus on a meal until he starts to hate it and goes onto another

-Probably sleeps on his back or stomach

-Quietly sings to himself when he's alone doing experiments

-his hands are probably soft as hell

-he probably bounces his leg when stressed

-I cant decide whether or not he's always cold or always hot (wearing his jacket everywhere but seems fine at dragonspine??)

-would break klee out of jail

-he always tries to have at least one meal with klee

WAIT SHIT I FORGOT ABOUT THIS--

definitely a pleasant surprise nodnod always a treat to have more Albedo, thank you for the food, Chi OTL

I'll write a little about each one b/c I have no self control and I'm feeling inspired by ur headcanons so lets goooooo ehehehe

They'll be a mix between imagines and drabbles!

Enjoy the food :3c

Contains: Albedo x gn!Reader, some standalone Albedo, Klee, fluff

- Breaking Habits -

"Albedo? You're doing it again-"

He blinks, shifting to remove the tip of his pencil from his lips, frowning when little indents come into view.

"Hm...it appears to be so."

Really, the Chief Alchemist has tried to wean himself off the habit, taking to coating the butt ends of his writing utensils with a horrid concoction of qingxin and jueyun chili, but the moment he slips into his usual daily tasks, it arises once more. The bitter spiciness is a taste that he still has not forgotten.

When his brows crease and his gaze seems to burn into the pencil, you offer a smile. With a kiss pressed to his temple, you take it from his loose grasp, setting it down on the table's surface.

A few weeks later, it dawns on him that the touch of wood to his lips evokes the memory of your gentle reminder. Without fail, he sets his pencil down in search of a sweet to busy himself with instead.

- His Laugh -

I can just imagine him with his hand lifted to cover his mouth, a smile tugging at his lips and his eyes slightly squinted. It's something that'd happen almost instantaneously--he doesn't intend to hide his smile but for some reason he can't help but do it.

An endearing habit that you've come to look for.

Regardless-

If you lower his hand and pepper him with a few little kisses, you'll get another giggle out of him before a kiss.

- Hairstyles -

Albedo only knows two ways to do hair: Klee's twin pigtails and his own half-up braid.

Over the past three years of his residency in Mond, it's become a sort of trademark. The assumption that it's just how he likes to style his hair has long since been accepted as truth--and really, he does prefer the style.

Though...

"Mr Albedo? Perhaps you should try to tie it all up instead...?"

The stray wisps of bangs that escape from the securely tied braid fall into his face and distract him from the task at hand. There's also the ever-present tickle right where the blond locks fall around his jaw. Surely, this shouldn't prove to be a problem considering he always has this style...right?

Needless to say, the smell of singed hair makes him choke and the Alchemist finds himself pulling away to tie his hair properly.

It's simple.

Or at least that's what he has been stuck repeating like a mantra as he stares at his reflection, unhappy with the way there's a strange bit of hair that refuses to stay tied. Sighing, he undoes his pony tail and tries again.

Hm.

No, now it's lopsided...certainly can't have that.

- Mealtime -

First, two little ears peek up above the surface of the counter besides him. Then, two little eyes belonging to a stuff rabbit toy followed by a red hat--

"Klee?"

The little girl stares at the fish steaks sizzling away on the pan, displeasure on her features despite the incredibly enticing smell. With unmatched resolve, she huffs.

"Big brother, Klee doesn't want fish again-"

Ah, right.

He's been in another of those moods, the particular taste and texture of the fish mingling with the salted butter, simple sauce, and lightly seasoned veggies sounding so much more appealing compared to nearly any other dish he's tried to enjoy in the past two weeks. It's without a doubt Albedo's all-time favorite dish. Perfect for someone with a small appetite and a need for something quick, filling, and nutritious.

"What would you like then?"

Ultimately (and truly, Albedo wasn't surprise), the little knight requested a serving of 'Fishy Toast'. Cutting up one of the fillets he'd fried, he laughs and shakes his head.

- Sleep Time -

When you come home, it's already dark, the streetlamps lining the cobbled road illuminating the front door as you fish out your key.

"Albedo? I'm back-"

Soft snoring punctuates the silence.

With a fond smile, you remove your shoes and make your way to the make-shift 'sleep station' set up on the couch. Sure enough, with his face shoved at an awkward angle against a pillow, Albedo lays on his stomach holding a second pillow to his chest.

As much as you'd rather not wake him (after all, he's barely gotten sleep over the past few days with how busy it's been), you kneel besides the couch to gently shake him awake.

"Bedo? Bedo, lets go to bed-"

He shoves his face further into his pillow, muttering something about waiting for results. But the silence that follows only lasts so long until he sighs and opens his bleary eyes.

"Welcome home," he mumbles, carefully shuffling best he can closer to meet your lips.

With a stretch and sigh, he sits up. Blond hair sticks up from the top of his head and to his cheek, some parts tangled despite his attempts to prevent it--your hair shouldn't tangle if you sleep on your stomach, right?

Holding back your laugh, you help him up so that the two of you can get ready to sleep.

- Singing -

Most often if not nearly each day, if you pass by the Favonius HQ's workshop, you might catch the soft sound of singing. A light sound that drifts from the partly-cracked door echoes into the empty hallway. Regardless of the traffic outside, it shows no sign of stopping, so you easily can sit right outside and listen.

It's not shy, though, even as the man's dulcet tone comes out gently, and there are days that the lyrics that slip from his tongue are of other regions.

Perhaps if you ever approach the Chief Alchemist, you might be able to convince him to sing just a short little tune. He'll oblige, though a soft dusting of pink will cover his cheeks as he does.

- Hands -

"My hands?"

Albedo watches as you tug off his gloves, head cocked to the side curiously. The moment his hands are free from their confines, you press a kiss to his palm and intertwine your fingers.

"Do you use lotion or something?"

He laughs.

"...Not that I am aware of...?"

When you squeeze his hand once, he squeezes yours back three times before bringing your joined hand to his cheek. Resting against them, his eyes close.

"Why do you ask?"

He feels you take his other hand as well, turning it over palm-side up, your fingertips tracing over the lines that adorn it's surface.

The tenderness of your touch is enough to make his heart stutter in his chest.

"Mmm...no reason."

- Leg Bouncing -

Whenever Albedo bounces his leg sitting at the Dragonspine workshop, a curse or two will slip out the moment his knee bangs against the wood.

Even being considered short, the table has decided to lay just low enough for him to cause minor injury to himself.

Shaking his head, he rubs at his knee to rid himself of the dull ache before continuing his observations at hand.

- His Jacket -

Wait okay but like...what if he actually has different versions of the same jacket? They look virtually the same but there's some of lighter material for warmer days, 'standard' ones for day-to-day use, and heavier ones lined with warm, soft fabric to insulate heat when he's on Dragonspine.

Same with his tights. I do know for a fact that there are tights lined with fleece that are incredibly warm and comfortable!!

- Escapees -

"You need to be very quiet, alright?"

Once more in the dark of the night, Albedo finds himself awake within the walls of the Favonius Headquarters.

Now...Klee technically wasn't grounded, so technically escorting her out of the so called 'solitary confinement' wasn't against any rule. To be fair, the room itself also wasn't really that either, judging by the child-themed decor, soft bed, books littering the floor, and the little table that sits just off to the opposite side of the room.

So! Albedo was certain that there wasn't any harm in what he was doing.

Not that he wasn't still sneaking around on his little improvised rescue mission.

He looks back to Klee, the little girl now wide awake and hanging on to his hand tightly.

When the morning comes, he sighs, crouched sitting on one of the child-sized chairs in the solitary confinement room, Klee peacefully snoozing in bed.

If only Jean wasn't pulling an all-nighter last night as well.

- Very Early Breakfasts -

Klee wakes up to the smell of sweet berry jam and chocolate in the air.

Clumsily, she slips out from under the covers with Dodoco cradled in her arms, padding along the wooden floors on her way to the kitchen.

"Big brother...?" She rubs the sleep from her eyes waiting for him to turn around.

"Oh, good morning Klee-"

"What time is it?"

That, Albedo decided, was a very good question. Especially considering that he hadn't yet gone to sleep and instead shuffled through the kitchen in the early hours of the day to make pancakes. If he had to guess--and he took a quick peek out the window despite the darkness of the early morning lending no clue--he'd say it was nearing 4am.

"Early. Go ahead and sit down, breakfast is almost ready."

The plate is presented to her with a brilliant smile, the Chief Alchemist satisfied to be able to keep his promise with her to always share a meal. But...the fluffy pancakes and freshly made whipped cream were also a source of his brightened mood.

Even though he knew he'd have no time to sleep and pack for his next Dragonspine expedition, the lack of sleep was worth seeing the sudden widening of eyes and delighted giggle from his younger sibling.

He could always take a quick nap at the base camp, anyway.

#anon asks #chifema #albedo #genshin impact albedo #genshin impact headcanons #albedo headcanons #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact drabbles #albedo my beloved #klee #albedo x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff

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parkers-gal · 3 years

Text

simple acts of intimacy that actually mean a lot T.H.

wc: 3.1k (fluff)

taking something out of your pocket

"Tom!" you called for him.

"Hey, babe," he greeted you. You had just gotten back from a shopping spree, and you were holding about seven heavy bags, two drinks in your hand. Harrison and Harry were seated on the couch in front of the two of you, Tuwaine in the kitchen getting more snacks.

"I didn't bring my purse," you huffed, out of breath from the walk. "Can you check for my phone? My wallet?"

Tom smiled softly in response, sending you an easy nod. "Of course," he said, moving to the pockets of your jeans.

He searched the front right pocket first, his fingers strong and warm and lean, and the touch made you giggle. He found your keys in the front right pocket, momentarily holding them up for you to see before moving to the next pocket. He found your phone and wallet pocketed in the back pockets, and then he was by your front again, searching your left pocket.

"Your chapstick," he held it up, and you giggled again as he opened it and applied it to his own lips and then your own. "They say you get more alike to your significant other, y'know," he smirked, and you laughed again with a nod.

knowing just how to calm you down

It was a dangerous scenario to be in in the first place, though it wasn't your's nor Tom's fault. After dealing with a rather rude man from the front desk, you were rushing out of the building, Tom barely trailing after you. Just as you were making it to the car, he rushed ahead of you, halting you.

"Hey- hey, hey, hey," he said, hands gesturing for you to slow. There were frustrated tears in your eyes, threatening to spill if any one move prompted them. You'd hope Tom could be the dam to keep them up. "It's alright," he assured you.

"No, its-! It's not!" You exclaimed, breaking your silence. "N-now I have find another way to do it and I can't t-"

"Love," he cut you off, hand caressing your arm, moving you into his embrace slightly. "He's an asshole- he had no right to tell you those things, okay? We're gonna find another way, but later, okay? Listen to me, listen to my voice," he whispered. "And look at my eyes," he moved your chin, engaging eye contact. "We're going to be alright."

A smile broke out onto your face for the first time, and you nodded, fully accepting his hug and hiding in his chest.

calling to make sure you've eaten

Calling in between takes and scenes wasn't uncommon, and especially calling during lunch. Tom had a tendency to forget to eat or take breaks; wearing the Spider-man suit was a big contributor to his re-prioritization, his reason for the distractions. Unfortunately, he tended to bring this habit onto the sets of different films. Luckily, you had paid mind to the habit, and made sure to check in on him everyday, especially if you weren't on set all the time.

"Hi, angel," Tom spoke into the phone after picking it up.

"Hi, Tommy!" You exclaimed excitedly. "How's filming?"

"Good, tiring. Miss you," he huffed out, still with a smile.

"Miss you too bubs, tell everyone I say ''hey.'" you replied. "Have you eaten today?"

Tom was nodding off silently to a crew worker who had asked him a quick question. "Hm?" he laughed a light one. "Oh, yes I have. Have you, darling?"

"I have, I have, no worries," you assured him. "Drinking water?"

"Just got a new bottle," Tom smiled. "Alright well," he trailed off disappointingly, "I hate this part but, they're calling me now. I call you when the shoots over. Love you, baby."

You hummed, "'kay, love you Tommy. And good luck!" You giggled before hanging up.

"Y/N?' Harry asked Tom, looking to the phone.

"Mhm," Tom smiled. "She says 'hi'."

wearing/borrowing clothes

"Hey, Y/N, have you seen my-?" Tom stopped short in his tracks, barely through the doorway. He smiled at the sight of you, a pint of ice cream sitting on the table in front of you, an open book in your lap and a spoon in your mouth.

You hummed, "What was that, hun?"

He eyed your figure, clad in his pink sweatshirt, before shaking his head. Upon realizing you weren't looking at him, he breathed out a laugh. "Never mind."

You hummed again, glancing up to him before smiling softly at him.

"Hey, love?" Tom hollered from within the depths of the closet.

"Yeah?" you shouted back, applying some lip gloss as you looked into the bathroom mirror.

"Does this work with my outfit?"

You laughed before walking over to him. You smiled at him: he was holding a baseball cap in one hand, your beanie fitted on his head. Though he loved his buzzcut, he also loved to wear matching hats, though this time you were wearing the sweatshirt.

"I like the beanie," you agreed.

He glanced up with a smile, setting the baseball cap down. "Me too."

zipping up/ unzipping

Tom was waiting in the living room for you. It was almost routine, that whenever the two of you were attending a gala or a premiere together, he'd wait to see your final look, and god he loved the reveal every time. This time, however, was one of the first times you were doing everything on your own, no makeup artists or stylists there to assist you.

"Tommy?" you yelled softly.

Tom's head perked up, and he slipped his phone into the pockets of his dress pants before making his way to the closed bedroom door.

"Yes, love?"

You opened the door, stepping towards him slowly. Tom was awestruck, mouth agape and eyes wide. You were absolutely stunning, from every and all angles, and Tom swore his heart leapt into his throat.

"Tom?" you repeated, waving a hand in front of his face.

It had just occurred to him that you had been talking and he had completely tuned your voice out, too taken up by the sight in front of him.

"Sorry- what?" he asked, finally looking at you.

"Can you zip me up?" you asked again, softly. You turned around, gesturing to your zipper. Tom smiled, fingertips softly grazing the lower portion of your back, before softly gripping the zipper. The fingertips of his left hand ran up your spine, his right hand with the zipper following along. He left a small kiss on your shoulder and you went straight back into the bedroom to get the remaining accessories for your outfit.

putting jewelry on for each other

After you chose a few rings, you walked back over to Tom with a necklace in hand. You placed both ends in his hands with a hopeful smile before spinning around, making sure your hair was not in the way. Tom clipped both ends and let the jewelry dangle off your neck. He left another kiss on your shoulder before you intertwined your hands.

remembering coffee/tea orders verbatim

"Go find us a booth," Tom whispered in your ear, hand on the small of your back as he gave you a nudge, and the two of you separated into two different directions, you towards the seats and him towards the line to the barista.

"Hi, how're you?" The barista greeted.

Tom returned a smile," I'm good, how're you?"

"I'm good, what can I get you today?"

"Can I get a hot chamomile tea with some lemon...?"

"Size?"

"Uhm, medium please."

The barista, Sophia, nodded. "Anything else?"

"Yeah uhm, a medium honey cream latte? Not too heavy on the creamer?"

"Got it. Will that be all for you today?"

"Yes I think so," Tom replied, handing her his credit card before moving to the counter to pick up the drinks.

When he had both, he made his way over to you, who found a booth by a window.

"Hey, love," Tom trailed excitedly, placing the mugs down softly. "I got your favorite."

"Light on the cream?"

Tom sat down across from you. "Light on the cream," he repeated with a smile.

dancing in the kitchen

A quick trip to the kitchen for some toast had started a mini concert by the sink and in front of the dishes. Tom was clad in a pair of sweats, white socks helping him slide on the cool tiled floor, his pink hoodie fresh on his torso.

The speakers were playing a playlist of his favorites, which also consisted of your favorites, because you had introduced him to several new artists and genres. Song after song came on, distracting him from the opening and closing of the front door.

Hearing the commotion from the cooking room, you left your bags by the door, going upstairs to change into some comfy clothes and finding your boyfriend rocking out to some of Taylor Swift's Lover.

You giggled from the doorway, and he spun around to look at you, lowering the large metal spoon away from his mouth.

"Hi," you laughed again.

"Hi," he panted.

"What," you took a sip of water. "are you doing?"

"Dancing in the kitchen, obviously."

You nodded, drinking your water again with a smile.

"Care to join me?"

You set the cup down with raised eyebrows. "Thomas..."

Mariah Carey started ringing through the speakers, and the spoon went back up to his mouth as he started singing his heart out.

"C'mon, Y/N...." he smirked. "You know you want to," he held his hand out.

You rolled your eyes playfully before extending your arm, accepting his hand. "Fine.."

Tom grinned in victory, singing louder again, and you joined him, twirling him around as he did the same for you, toast long forgotten in the toaster oven.

knowing what food you're craving based on your attitude

"I'm bored," you whined to Tom, who was sitting next to you on the couch, looking at his phone.

He chuckled quietly as he clicked the device off. "Yeah, whaddya want to do?"

"Cuddle. I'm cold."

He grinned again, turning to you, caressing the skin of your ankle, which was splayed across his lap.

"Are you hungry, my cuddle bug?" he asked after pulling you into his chest, arms circling around you.

"Mhm," you nodded, fiddling with his fingers. "How'd you know?"

He grinned again, his face out of sight for you. "What if we eat... pho?"

You gasped, louder for dramatics, hand slamming down on his, halting your movements. "Thomas Stanley Holland how did you fucking know?" you whined, feet kicking lightly.

He chuckled again, kissing the back of your ear before opening the Ubereats app on his phone.

offering to drive instead

The gala was coming to a close, and you and Tom had both taken the clue to get ready to leave, heading out to the parking lot after saying your goodbyes to the present participants.

Rounding the car, you pulled the key out of your hand-purse, unlocking the car. Your hand was still intertwined with Tom's, about to separate to get into your respective seats, when he spoke.

"Do you want me to drive instead, love?"

You glanced to his eyes with a thankful nod. "Will you?" you asked, reaching to give him the key.

"Of course," he smiled, moving to the other side of the car, giving your temple a kiss as he rubbed your arm, taking the key from you and closing your car door after you had been seated.

remembering confessions from late nights or simple words that are forgotten by most

"Hey did you book the flights for next month?" You asked Tom, sitting across from him at the dining table, planner in front of you, a pen and your phone in each of your hands.

"Just up till the nineteenth," he replied, thumbs moving across the keyboard of his cell phone.

"Got it."

"Oh also," Tom looked up from his phone, forearms leaning on the edge of the table as he looked at you, focused on writing more details into that little book you loved so much. "I booked us a round trip to Mae Raem. I talked to Harry and I managed to get a week off from work, in between films I think."

Your eyes were fixed on the boy sitting across from you, hands frozen in their places.

"You what? "

"I booked us a flight To Mae-"

"I heard that part!" You exclaimed with a laugh. "Why the fuck are we going to Thailand?!"

"Well I just-" he looked off to different parts of the room, the tips of his ears turning scarlet as his cheeks heated up. "I remember you saying you wanted to go to this little place in Thailand and I just- I wrote it down so I wouldn't forget. I was just waiting until I had free time in my schedule."

"Tom you moved film times for this trip!" You laughed. "Why- how did you even remember that? It was like three A.M. when we were talking about those crazy dreams and shit," you laughed.

"I don't know," he put his phone down, fiddling with his fingers and knuckles. "You just sounded so passionate about it- I just remembered the sound of your voice, I guess. It seems like fun."

You clicked your pen, putting it down, and closing the planner. "Yeah, yeah it does."

remembering to buy something you'd forgotten to (grocery shopping)

"Oh fuck, I'm out of jaffa cakes," you huffed, closing a cupboard door.

"Let's go to the market then," Tom said, finishing his cup of tea.

A shower and a car drive later, the two of you were walking into the supermarket, Tom leaning on the cart as he followed you. You spotted the chip aisle, and headed straight for it. Tom chuckled at your behavior, suspecting that perhaps you were stocking up on your cravings-foods, knowing your period was coming too.

Aisle after aisle the two of you went before grabbing a few boxes of brownie mix. You saw the aisle with cereal, and left Tom on his own. He chuckled, moving over the next aisle.

"I think I'm done," you huffed, placing your last items in the cart. Tom nodded, putting a bag of apples into the cart before moving into a line for the cash register.

"Wait lets do the self checkout thing."

"Really?" Tom laughed at your suggestion before reluctantly agreeing, heading into the direction. He was scanning while you were bagging, the two of you moving like clockwork.

Tom paid the receipt before stopping abruptly. "Wait fuck, I forgot something."

"What?" you asked.

"Nothing, I'll meet you at the car."

"'Kay," you replied, rolling the cart out of the shop. Tom went off to find your favorite jaffa cakes, buying some extra danishes as well. When he paid, he added the items to the bags in the trunk before joining you in the front seat.

"Ready?" He asked, turning the engine on. You hummed a confirmation, and Tom changed the car's shift, driving home.

After the two of you brought the bags into the kitchen (in one trip, because two trips are for loser), you began unloading the items into their spots in the kitchen.

"Wait," you groaned after opening the cupboard. "I forgot the fucking jaffa cakes!"

"Ah ah," Tom spoke, pulling the sweet out of a bag he'd just unloaded.

You gasped, jaw slightly ajar as you reached for the food. "Oh. My. God," you looked at the wrapping. "I fucking love you."

Tom laughed, "Well," he was moving forward, his face two inches from yours, "it's a good thing I fucking love you too."

and finally, showering together

"Tommy! I missed you," You greeted him, rushing to your boyfriend, jumping into his embrace just as he closed the front door.

He groaned with a laugh, arms on your waist. "I missed you too, angel."

"Are you sore? Tired?"

He chuckled again, "mhm."

"Let's go get you cleaned up and we can go to bed then," you smiled at him, fingers running over the hair of his brows, trying to smooth out the stray one.

"Sounds like a plan, darling."

Making your way up the stairs, you ridded Tom of his coat. You went into the bathroom to turn on the shower, hoping to get the water warm, before pulling him into the bathroom with you.

"We can do face masks or we can fall asleep watching movies."

He booped your nose before answering. "Let's do the face masks tomorrow."

"'kay, arms up now, mister," you ordered him playfully, and he rolled his eyes before complying.

"My limbs still work, yanno-"

"Sure mister I-love-being-babied."

"I do not!" he denied, cheeks reddening.

"You secretly love it," you kissed his nose after removing his shirt, hands splaying across his bare chest and abs. He visibly shivered at your touch, and you smirked.

"Now get in the shower, you big doof," you playfully pushed him in the direction of the shower before stepping out of the bathroom.

Tom, unknowing of your full plans, hopped into the shower, letting the heated water cascade down his skin and drench his hair. As he was about to reach for the bottle of shampoo, you opened the shower door, your bare skin coming into view as you joined Tom in the shower.

His eyebrows shot up, movements stopped.

"Uh-"

"Hi," you said with a giggle. "Let me," you took the shampoo from his hand, squirting some into your hand before rubbing it onto the top of his head, fingers running through his unruly curls as he hummed contently at the feeling, always loving when you did anything to his hair.

"Rinse now," you said, moving to clean the strands out, ridding them of the suds. You repeated the process with conditioner (your conditioner, because though Tom would deny it, he secretly loved it, and cheered internally when you picked it up instead of his own) before reaching for the body-wash.

"Uh-uh, let me do this one," he took the bottle from your hands, starting to clean himself.

You laughed at his attempts before snatching the bottle from him. "You can't even reach this part of your back!"

"I'm a gymnast! I'm flexible enough to reach that!" he breathed out a laugh.

You giggled, shaking your head and letting your fingers caress his shoulder blades, his lower back as well as his ribs. You spun him around so you could continue on his chest as well, and his eyes were closed in bliss. When you finished, you walked him backwards under the streaming water of the shower head, arms wrapping around his lower stomach, hugging him, chin resting on his chest as he looked down at you.

"Thank you for this, love."

"Anything for you Tommy."

He kissed the tip of your nose and smiled.

1K notes · View notes

scintillasofbeomgyu · 3 years

Text

˚ · . 𝘁𝘅𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻! — 𝙨/𝙤 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙘 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙩𝙚𝙨𝙩

pairing: txt x gn!reader

genre: fluff; comfort

word count: 1,1k

warning(s): mentions of stress and anxiety

requested: yes

a/n: i'm not that satisfied with these, but thanks for this cute request anon !! these also turned into something between reactions and headcannons i'm sorry 😭

᠃ ⚘ choi yeonjun:

no because he’s literally going to be the one insisting that you need to take a break and go on date with him

he would try to be patient at first, he would.

but the way you were sitting at your desk, chanting repeating the same lines from your textbook, over and over again, nearly had him thinking you were speaking in tongues– he’d even check to see if there were paranormal bodies lurking around

it’d hurt him to see you agonizing so much when you’ve worked so hard

is NOT taking no for an answer

“yeonjuuuun, please, just one more hour!”

“sure. when we get back. come on yn, get off your pretty ass. let’s go on a drive.”

would take you on a long, late-afternoon drive to some pretty outdoor place he found by accident (spoiler alert: he prepared a whole picnic basket 🥺)

would lay out the blanket, then your head in his lap before running his fingers through your hair

“you’ve worked so hard, you’re going to do so well baby, i promise. and if you don’t? you’re going to be the significant other of this future baller anyway.”

᠃ ⚘ choi soobin:

is startled when you storm into his room at the dorm with a huff; you throw your bag on the floor before climbing up onto the bed next to him and attaching yourself to his side

“i thought you were studying today?”

“don’t even ask” you’d say into his chest “math could be pouring out of my ears right now and i’ll still have no less anxiety than before”

he’d coo before placing his book on the nightstand and shifting so that you’d be more comfortable, and would place a lingering kiss to your forehead

soobin knew that you were a hard worker: hence the total adoration and concern in his eyes whenever he looked at you. you always pushed yourself, and sometimes it made you lose confidence in your abilities

“come on, I have an idea”

you would spend the entire day receiving the royal treatment !!

he’d bake all sorts of things for you, cuddle with you on the couch infront of the tv, would massage your feet and shoulders (spoiler alert: he’s really good at them 🥺)

“who even likes math? but my yn still manages to do their best everytime. i’m so proud of you.”

᠃ ⚘ choi beomgyu:

immediately switches off the new song he composed when you walk into his studio, but panic morphs into concern when he sees your limbs splayed across the sofa, head buried into the cushions

“i’m going to fail this test, but i need a break before i tear this textbook apart”

is well-aware that you’ve probably been overwhelming and underestimating yourself again

he’ll probably jest to lighten the mood, but will also affirm you ALOT

“eyyyy, what are you stressed about? even i could do– what’s this? alphabet sums? yeah, i could totally do these alphabet sums! and if my half a brain cell can, you’re going to ace it, jagi!”

WILL poke you until you get up and look at him, WILL give you a big phat hug, WILL give you a phat kiss on the lips 😖

and how can your heart NOT flutter at your adorably silly boyfriend

“i’m still going to fail though”

will bonk your head and lead you to his desk, will sit you down and let you listen to that song he was so antsy about

“here, take your mind off that test and give me some feedback”

would blush hysterically when you tell him you like it– it was about you after all (you lucky fish !!)

“just like you always support me, i will always support you, yn. you’ll do great tomorrow, i know it!”

᠃ ⚘ kang taehyun:

would be waiting outside your house the minute you sent him a text

he’d been busy with schedules, and was a little disappointed when you said you couldn’t hang out during his off day because of your test

but his idea of a “break” was so not what you had in mind

you’d come out in the clothes most suitable for a date, only to find him in sweats and a jacket– mans is literally taking you on a jog 😭

“come on, yn! nothing better than a little fresh air and exercise to get that brain-juice flowing” while you’re literally gasping for air behind him

but give him a chance! he just likes to tease!

after all the running, a bicycle is waiting lmfao, he’s sitting you on the back, don’t worry!!

will wrap your arms around him as he takes you on a relaxing ride along the Han River– and some chocolate covered strawberries are waiting for you at a spot on the grass !!

will drape an arm around your shoulder and peck your check before resting your head in his shoulder.

“i’m sure you’re pretty anxious about this test, but i believe in you. and if you ever need me to explain anything to you, i’ll do the best i can to help. no matter the result, i’m always proud of you, yn.”

᠃ ⚘ huening kai:

don’t @ me, but i can totally see him taking you to the karaoke room😭

he’ll definitely be really worried when he sees how anxious you are as you sit at your desk, but being someone who doesn’t really talk himself, he’ll probably just suggest it out of the blue

“come on, let’s go to the karaoke room!”

“kai, i need to not fail bio”

would nag on you until you finally cave in (how can you withstand those puppy dog eyes and those pouty lips!)

but instead of going out, you’ll do it in the livingroom

he’ll excitedly plug in the karaoke machine and the two of you would be screaming the lyrics of pop songs at the top of your lungs

when you get tired of singing, you’ll just end up dancing around the furniture– Kai moving in the way that made him question whether or not he was actually a practical dance student or not

but you're laughing and smiling and that’s all that matters to him 🥺

when you eventually fall onto the sofa in exhaustion, he’d cuddle up to you and rest his head on your shoulder

“i love you so much. you’re so smart and so beautiful, it’s unfair! you’ll do just fine on your test, babe. i know it. spanish? ha, just bonjour it up then!”

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bqstqnbruin · 3 years

Text

Aerosmith

Alright, y'all: here's that fic that I'm low key scared no one is going to read that has taken me a few months to write, a Trent x single mom!reader fic

It's a long one, with the Bruin's feral little fighty boy from St. Louis, around 13.3k words. The songs listed as the headers of each section are all by Aerosmith, each part partially inspired by the song (hence the name of the fic)

Shoutout to @toplinetommy for helping me with this the entire time and being my beta AND to @chara-hugs for letting me bounce ideas off of you and talking through what I was thinking of. Love you lots 💛

I hope people like this

___________

Just Push Play

Considering how much was happening around you at the bar your friends had dragged you to, the only thing that could keep your attention was your phone. It was the only thing, at this point, that you would allow to keep your attention. You had no desire to be there. Part of you wanted your phone to start buzzing, anything that would give you an excuse for you to leave, but the other part of you knew that something bad had to happen in order for you to leave. Every second that you stayed was costing you more money and less time being where you wanted to be.

“Hey, Y/N, put the phone away. This is your first night out in, like, years,” Molly tells you.

“Four years. Maybe five?” you guess.

“Six years, exactly,” she wrongly says, earning a disappointed head shake from you, a small ‘no’ escaping your lips that goes ignored as she takes your hand that’s holding the phone. “Can we please just enjoy tonight and have some fun? He’s going to be fine.”

You take in a deep breath, almost sure she was right about that. You hadn’t had a night to yourself in years, and Molly was also almost right that this was your first one in over four years. Actually, given the timeline, it was probably more like five. “But what if something happens?” you ask, the natural worry and constant fear you felt taking over your ability to just enjoy the night.

“If something, anything happens, you’ll be able to feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, and I will go home with you to take care of it,” she reassures you, playing around with the settings on your phone. She hands it back to you, pulling you up from the table you had yet to move from in the first place. “He’s fine. He always is. Why don’t you request a song?”

“Because you keep telling me you hate my music.”

“Well, that’s because you have the same music taste as your sixty-something-year-old father when you’re a twenty-something-year-old woman.”

“You don’t even know how old I am? We’re the same age.” Molly rolls her eyes at you, dragging you up to the line of people to request songs, a book sitting there with the songs you could request. “They’re not going to have anything I like,” you tell her as the line behind you gets longer.

“Don’t you listen to that one guy?” she starts.

“That could mean anything. Have I told you lately that you are the most unhelpful person I know?” you snap at her, trying to find anything in your Spotify that you could request as the line got shorter and shorter in front of you. “What about this song?” you ask, your finger hovering over someone from one of your Daily Mixes. Molly looks over your shoulder at your phone, shaking her head at your song choice, and every song choice that you suggested. “I’m just going back to the table, you’re being impossible.”

Before she can protest, you turn around and head back to your table, sitting off to the side away from the rest of your friends, your eyes glued to your phone. At this point, you were praying that you would get a message from Rachel asking you to come home, telling you that something was wrong. Even something as simple as she had to leave unexpectedly so you could, too. Anything so that you could leave sooner rather than later.

“Sorry, but you really couldn’t find a song in that book?” you hear a guy's voice, tearing you away from the screen. He sits down next to you, not too close that it was uncomfortable but just close enough that you could smell his cologne, covering the smell of beer that had been lingering in the air around you. “There was some Aerosmith in there, I have a feeling that’s the closest to something you’d enjoy,” he says, smiling at you.

He must have been in the group that was in line behind you, hearing your conversation with Molly. Regardless, you smile back at him, something about his own being so infectious that you couldn’t help but mirror his expression. “Well, you’re right, but it depends on what Aerosmith song,” you respond, a hint of flirting in your voice.

“Is there a bad one?”

“No, but there are some superior ones,” you tell him, his eyebrow cocked as a sign to get you to explain. “Sweet Emotion is great but not as good as their cover of Come Together. Dream On and I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing are easily, in my opinion, their best songs.”

“Is that up for debate?”

“Oh, you think their most popular songs aren’t their best?”

“I think the one that’s about to play is one of their best,” the guy says, both of you pausing as there’s a lull in the music, the chatter and screaming of the bar’s drunk patrons overtaking everything.

“Just Push Play?” you ask, a smile on your face. It wasn’t one of their most well-known songs, but you still had to admit it was an underrated one.

The boy shrugs, a smirk on his face. “I might have requested it so you’ll have a reason to dance with me,” he flirts, getting up and extending his hand for you to join him.

You hesitate, unsure if you should get up with this mystery man standing in front of you. There was something about him that you couldn’t figure out. He looked young, probably younger than you but looks can be deceiving, nevertheless telling you that there was some sort of innocence or naivety to him, but the obviously fit physique under his clothing telling you that he could and would break your heart in a moment if he had to, the time leading up to that would be like nothing you had experienced before. You didn’t have time or the energy to spend on something you knew would lead to heartbreak, but you felt like you wanted to, like you had to. “I’m not sure I can dance with someone whose name I don’t even know.”

“I’m Trent,” he says, taking your hand and guiding you away from the table. You introduce yourself as his hands snake their way around your waist, holding you close enough that you could feel his heart starting to race against your own chest as your hands met the skin at the back of his neck, your fingers grazing along the collar of the back of his shirt, the two of you not moving at all in sync with the faster beat of the song. Not that you cared. There was something about this boy you were talking to talk to over the music that made you completely disregard the movement around you, forgetting about your phone and what was waiting for you at home for the first time in nearly five years.

You danced for what felt like forever, for what you wanted to last forever, every song passing you by as he listed out song after song that he recognized, most of them country as he claimed he had a country playlist that went on for seven hours, all of them involving him trying to sing bits and pieces of the lyrics off-key, every time pulling a laugh from you.

“I don’t know what I like more,” he starts, resting his forehead against yours as the space between the two of you disappeared, “the music they’re playing or your laugh.”

You roll your eyes, a smile on your face as the heat rushes to your cheeks. “Those lines usually don’t work on me.”

“But?” he asks, his lips ghosting yours.

“But from you, they do,” you tell him, planting your lips on his before he has the chance to say anything else. You didn’t know what it was about Trent; you were never the one to make the first move, you barely interacted with guys at this point since your life was permanently hectic. But Trent was something else. You don’t know what Trent was, you just knew he was different.

His hands were on your back, finding their way to your waist, his grip tightening when you feel someone tap your shoulder. You pull away, a pout on Trent’s face as you turn around to see Molly, waving your phone in your face. “It’s almost midnight.”

“Oh, shoot!” you squeal, taking your phone. “I’m sorry, I have to get home.”

A confused look covers Trent’s face. “Is your Uber going to turn into a pumpkin if you aren’t home, Cinderella?”

You laugh at his joke, going back to your table to grab your stuff. “I’m so sorry,” you repeat, “But I really have to get home.”

“Let me walk you.”

You stop in your tracks as you were rushing out the door. You never brought a guy anywhere near your apartment, knowing that most of them would want to go in, most of them would want to sleep with you if you invited them, most of them would be gone by morning when they found out why you didn’t want them there in the first place. You don’t know why you knew Trent would be different. “No, you don’t have to,” you tell him, instead, even though you wish you could bring him home with you.

Before he can answer, someone calls out his name, pulling the two of you away from each other’s attention. “Trent, we’re leaving.”

Trent looks between you and his friend, the group of guys aggregating around him as they wait for his answer.

“You don’t have to,” you repeat, trying to get out the door because you had to.

“Jack, give me a minute,” Trent calls to his friends, “I want to,” he tells you, taking your arm, turning you towards him. The look in his eyes was sincere, begging you to let him walk you home. “Please?”

You let out a sigh, caving in even though you knew you shouldn’t. “Fine, yeah. Let’s go,” you tell him, taking his hand and leading him out of the bar, his friends left without an answer as they watched the two of you walk away.

Come Together

“I’ve had a really great night. Sorry about my friends, though” Trent apologizes to you again. He explained that he had gone out with them after their game that night, supposed to be spending their off-day tomorrow together, but Trent leaving with you had seemingly changed those plans. As the two of you walked and talked on the way back, his hand never left yours, from the time you left the bar to now standing outside your door. He pulls you in for another kiss, the worries of what was on the other side of the door melting away. You wanted to invite him in, but you weren’t sure if he would even want to once he found out.

Your door opens, Rachel stepping out. “Sorry, it’s almost curfew.”

“Yeah, sure, go ahead,” you tell her, Trent confused by the girl sneaking out of your apartment. “That was Rachel. She’s my babysitter.”

“Babysitter?”

You could feel your face twisting involuntarily at his question. You knew you should have told him before you got home, it would have been easier leaving him at the bar than watching him walk away from you outside your door. Why did you even let him walk you home in the first place? Because he’s hot and you’re dumb, that’s why. “I have a four-year-old son. If you wanted to leave, I would understand. Most guys do when I tell them about Ben,” you spit out, not making eye contact with him. You weren’t ashamed of your son, you just knew people your age got weirded out and panicked at the thought of the responsibility that came with having a child.

He tilts your head up, his eyes flicking between your own and your lips, a lazy smile on his face. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Do you want to stay?”

“If you’ll have me,” he says, kissing you yet again. You bring him inside, showing him Ben’s room first. The two of you stand in the doorway, his arms wrapped around your waist as you lean against the door frame. You feel him kiss the back of your head as you watch Ben wriggle in his sheets before settling down, you taking Trent’s hand and leading him down to your room. You tell him that you don’t want to do anything because of Ben being so close, Trent giving you a sweet smile, kissing you before settling next to you in bed. You had no idea why, but it all felt so domestic, so right that he was there with you in that moment.

“Can I ask you something?” his voice pierces the silence that had fallen between you.

“Sure.”

“Why didn’t you mention Ben before?”

You swallow hard. You weren’t ashamed of having Ben, something you found yourself repeating in your mind every time you told a guy about your son. He was the best part of your life. Everything you did was for him. “We’re young. Being a single mom at our age has such a stigma around it. When guys find out, they normally bolt. I didn’t want you to until the last possible second.” You turn to him, still able to make out his features in the dark, the pout that was forming on his face visible without anything lighting him up.

“You could have told me before we got here,” he says, pain in his voice as he reaches for your face, the pad of his thumb gently grazing over your cheek. “I don’t care if you have a kid. I mean, I do, Ben is part of who you are. But, I would have understood. I understand. You shouldn’t be afraid of telling someone about that part of you. What I know about you so far is pretty amazing, I can only imagine what Ben brings to the table.”

“That seems weirdly out of character for what I know about you,” you tease him, pulling a smile from him.

“Well, maybe, but even a stopped clock is right twice a day, right?”

You kiss him, a feeling of relief washing over you at his words. The two of you spend the rest of the night telling each other about yourselves, keeping quiet for Ben, despite the amount of laughter you let you. You couldn’t remember the last time a guy made you feel so happy, falling asleep with a smile on your face, his arms wrapped around your waist as if that’s where they belonged.

You wake up the next morning, the sun shining into your room, but no Trent. You get out of bed, probably figuring that he had left in the middle of the night, trying to spare your feelings about you having a son. You understood. What guy really wants to get into a relationship with a single mom at this age?

You go to check on Ben, opening the door to his bedroom to find that he wasn’t in his room. You started to panic at the sight of his empty bed, unmade with his blankets in disarray. If Trent was gone, and Ben was gone, where could they be? He wouldn’t kidnap your son, would he? He was a professional athlete, that’s not something he would do, right? Your panic starts to recede when you hear laughter coming from the kitchen.

Trent is standing at the stove, spatula in hand with eggs cooking on the stove, a piece of bread held up to his face with holes bitten out of it where his eyes are, making Ben shriek with laughter. “Sorry. I heard him get up and I didn’t want to wake you, so I started making breakfast. Is that ok?”

You can’t help but smile, going over to Ben. “How’s he doing so far?”

“Mommy, look! French toast!” Ben says, pointing excitedly to the cut-up pieces of bread on his plate.

“French toast?” you repeat, your eyes wide to play along with his excitement. “Give me a bite,” you tell him, opening your mouth as he picks up a piece with his fingers, nearly missing your mouth. You hear Trent laugh, you not containing your own.

You go over to Trent, leaning into him as the two of you watch Ben eat the food Trent made. You feel him kiss the top of your head, his fingers dancing up and down along your arm. You look at his hand, a bandaid on the back of his hand. “What happened to you here?”

“Oh, oops,” he says, looking at his hand. “Got a little cut, but don’t worry, it’s not bad. Dr. Ben here fixed me right up,” he tells you, going over to Ben and ruffling his hair.

Trent hands you a plate of french toast and eggs, pouring you a cup of coffee, kissing you in front of Ben, who either didn’t notice or didn’t mind. No guy had ever stayed the night, let alone stayed and made breakfast for the two of you the next morning.

“So, what were you two talking about before I joined?” you ask, taking another bite of the French Toast. You already knew it was good from what Ben gave you, but you were still devouring it.

“Bears, boots, and battles of galaxias,” Ben lets out, his full mouth spraying crumbs everywhere.

“I’ve been trying to make sense of that all morning. I have no idea what he means. Why does that sound familiar?” Trent asks, sitting down next to you, his hand on your thigh under the table, sending a chill through your entire body as his fingers lazily traced an unknown pattern on your skin.

You take a sip of the coffee he had handed you, setting down your cup and putting your hand on top of his under the table. “He saw that one part of the Office, the identity theft cold opening, where Jim says, ‘Bears, beets, Battlestar Galactica?’ That’s how he remembered it,” you explain, Trent looking over to your son who was fixated on the food in front of him.

“Benny,” Trent calls him, your entire body going numb hearing him call him the same nickname you used for your son, “do you like bears?”

“Bears are the coolest!” he squeals. Everything he saw with a bear on it, he would start begging you to buy him, your heart breaking from the look on his face when you had to tell him no, we don’t need the kitchen towel just because it has a bear on it.

“Can you do your best bear impression for Mom and I?” You felt your heart skip at the sound of Trent calling referring to you as just ‘Mom’ instead of ‘your mom,’ like he was already part of the family. You didn’t even hear Ben growling, his best attempt at being the ‘scary’ Baby Bear that he was just laughing along with Trent.

“Hey, buddy, what if I called you Benny Bear from now on? Do you like that?” Trent asks, Ben nodding excitedly at his nickname.

“You’re nice,” Ben says to Trent while he clears his plate, Ben running off to go play.

You look at Trent, not able to help how you were beaming at him getting along so well with your son. It was like he belonged there with you, and with Ben, making his presence that much better. “That means he likes you.”

“Not trying to pry,” Trent starts, standing beside you at the sink while you wash the dishes, “But how often does he like the guys you bring home?”

You bite your bottom lip, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. “I almost never bring guys home. And when I do, he generally doesn’t talk to them.”

“So he likes me,” he starts, getting closer to you as you nod your head. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you away from the sink. “How about you?”

“That depends,” you flirt, stretching to turn the sink off before draping your arm on his shoulders, twirling his hair through your fingers at the nape of his neck, “do you like me?”

He lets out a small laugh, pulling you in for a kiss. “I do.”

“I like you, too. Help me finish cleaning up and then we’ll go watch Ben, ok?”

The two of you wash dishes in silence, weirdly domestic and comfortable considering you knew this boy all of twelve hours. “Can I ask you something?” Trent breaks the silence, just as he did the night before.

“Sure.”

“Where’s Ben’s dad?” You take in a deep breath, knowing that this would have come up eventually. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he continues, a wash of panic over his face at the thought of asking something too personal too soon.

You shake your head, smiling at him to try to calm him down. “No, no, that’s fine. Um, we were together when we were in college, but we broke up. I started feeling like shit so I went to the doctor and she told me, ‘Congrats! You’re two months pregnant!’”

“Does he know about Ben?” Trent asks quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah, he does. I told him when I found out because I knew Ben was his. I told him that I was going to keep the baby and since we weren’t together anymore, he had the choice of either being present and helping out or if he didn’t want the responsibility, then that was fine, too.”

He didn’t know what about the way you were talking was making him feel this way. A lump in his throat was forming looking at your eyes start to shine with the threat of tears while you refused to make eye contact with him. You rarely talked about Ben’s father, making the decision a long time ago that he wasn’t worth your time thinking about since he didn’t want much to do with his own son. “And he didn’t?”

“He sends a present to Ben on his birthdays and Christmas, but other than that nothing really. I’m not even sure if Ben’s made the connection between the presents and his father yet. Like I said, though, I gave him the choice.”

“Do you regret anything?”

“I could never regret Ben or anything with him. I almost regret giving his father the choice, though. Being a parent isn’t easy, even if you have someone to take up half the work, but it’s even harder when it’s just you by yourself, you know? And I’ve gotten help, but it would be different if Ben had his dad as a constant in his life. Ben’s only seen him a few times, anyway. He calls him Andy instead of dad, and it’s just,” you stop, trying to find the word, “heartbreaking seems too severe, seeing him not acknowledge his dad as his dad, but what can you do?”

Trent didn’t know what to say. He was practically still a child himself when you really look at him. He couldn’t imagine having his own at this point in his life, let alone raising one on his own. “I’m sorry,” is all he can get out, trying not to cry even though he could hear Ben’s laughter ringing from the other room, sending a weird sense of joy through him at the same time.

“No, it’s fine. I would rather do this alone than do this with someone who didn’t want Ben to begin with. You can’t be a parent if you aren’t all in.”

He had no idea why, but he already felt so connected to Ben. There was no reason why, but he did. “I’m in.”

You turn back to him, shocked, confused, not even sure if you heard what he said properly. “What?”

“I’m in with you. With Ben. If you’ll let me. I want to see you again, keep seeing you. And that includes Ben. He already likes me, after all.” Trent was used to making snap decisions, on the ice, off the ice, wherever. He knew this was one, but this one felt like his best one.

“You don’t have to, you have your own life with hockey and everything,” you try to insist, cut off by Trent’s lips connecting with yours.

“I want to. Let’s go play with Ben.”

Angel

“Are you sure this is safe?” you ask him for what was probably the millionth time, getting out of his car in front of the rink.

He runs around to get Ben out of his car seat, you grabbing the stuff he had stashed in the trunk. “Yes, I promise it is. The guys bring their kids all the time and they’re way younger than Ben.” He had invited you and Ben to the family skate the team was having, you reluctant to go since Ben had never been skating before. Naturally, you were worried he would get hurt, either by falling down or being curious about the skate and somehow cutting himself, something you were sure he would do if given the chance.

You two had been together for about a month, Ben falling head over heels for Trent, jumping up and down whenever he saw him on TV. Much to your dismay, Ben loved it when Trent was fighting, begging you to let him play hockey so he could fight just like Trent. You loved taking videos of his excitement despite that fear of him skating and fighting like Trent, sending them to him to see during the game, Trent always making sure to FaceTime you the next afternoon when you got home from work if you two couldn’t meet up so that he could talk to Ben. He was acting like the dad Ben never had.

And that was terrifying to you. The thought of you and Trent breaking up and him suddenly leaving Ben’s life was the reason why you never got close with a guy before. You didn’t want Ben to go through that. You didn’t want to go through that.

But there you were, sitting rinkside at the Garden as you tried to tie up the skates that Trent got for Ben, his feet swinging back and forth in excitement no matter how much you tried to get him to stop for a moment.

“Are you excited, Benny Bear?” Trent asks, picking him up and walking out to the ice.

“Yeah!” he says, squirming around and clearly ready to go.

You weren’t sure if you were more nervous about Ben being on the ice for the first time, Trent already showing him how to skate, or you formally meeting all his teammates for the first time, that night at the bar not really counting. The three of you step onto the ice, Ben in between you two, practically swinging in the air as you both held his hands while you skate.

“You’re nervous?” Trent asks, reading the expression on your face.

“They look like they didn’t know about Ben.” You saw the looks you were getting from the guys' families as you and Trent were skating around with Ben between you. You knew they were looks of confusion, but you couldn't help but think that they were the same looks when you went out with Ben in general, the societal disapproval of being a young mother, no ring on that finger to show that this was planned with another parent on the other side. People were judgemental; it was in their nature, but you were hoping Trent’s teammates were accepting like Trent had been.

“Um, I guess I didn’t tell them? I didn’t think I needed to,” he says, looking down at your son. Ben was beaming, not paying attention to what you two were talking about, not that he would probably understand it if he was. Trent didn’t think it would be a big deal to have your son around. The guys knew he was seeing you, but was it really that big a deal that you have Ben? He looks over at you, the scared look that was on your face worrying him. “We can just tell him he’s your nephew or your little brother?” he whispers so Ben doesn’t hear.

“Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know. You don’t seem to want them to know he’s your son?”

You stop skating, pulling Trent over to the side while holding onto Ben’s hand as he begs to pull away and take a lap on his own, something you weren’t going to let him do. “I told you I’m not ashamed of Ben,” you hiss at him.

“I’m not saying that you are. I’m just saying if you’re scared of what people would think we could just tell them something else.”

You look at him for a moment, trying to properly process his words. “Am I scared of what people think, or are you?”

He steps back, careful not to fall on whoever's kid was zooming past him at that moment, Ben begging to go skate with him. “Hey, Zach,” he calls Patrice’s son over. “If he takes Ben is that ok?”

You knew you shouldn’t say yes, but you didn’t need Ben hearing this conversation, no matter how oblivious he might have been to begin with. “If you trust him, fine.”

“Zach,” Trent starts, crouching down to their level, his hands on Ben’s shoulders so he can’t skate away before he’s done, “Can you take care of my guy Ben here? Make sure he doesn’t fall? Go skate to your dad.” Zach and Ben practically rush off with each other to Zach’s dad, eager to skate around and surprisingly good for their age. “What do you mean I’m scared?”

“Who’s the one suggesting that we don’t tell your teammates that Ben is my son? We’ve been out together when people ask if he’s my brother, my nephew, if I’m his nanny, and every single time you’ve seen me correct them. I told you I’m not ashamed of Ben. And to come here and have everyone giving us looks because they’re trying to figure out who he is to you makes it seem like you are. You couldn’t even tell the guys you claim are like your family about Ben. He’s not old enough for that hurt, but I am.”

He looks down at the ice, shuffling back and forth on his skates. “I’m sorry.”

You move closer to him, tempted to reach out and hold him. He looked just as hurt as you felt, part of you glad that he was actually showing he was sympathetic instead of just saying it. “Are you ashamed of Ben?”

His head snaps to you, a look of disbelief on his face. He starts shaking his head, the curls on his head that were loose enough going wild with his movement. “I’m crazy about that kid. I know why you aren’t ashamed of him because I don’t think I could ever be.” Trent turns around to find Ben on the ice, skating around with the other kids, some of the guys playing a small game with them, Ben with his own little stick. He watches Ben score on whoever was playing goalie, Ben shrieking with joy. Trent couldn’t help but smile, turning to you. “He means more to me than I thought someone else's child could.”

“Then why didn’t you tell them about Ben?” you ask him.

He shrugs, sticking out his bottom lip. “Because I’m dumb.”

You can’t help but laugh, hooking your fingers in his belt loops to pull him close to you. “Well, I do call you a stupid muppet,” you joke, earning a groan from him, “Hey, I say it with affection and you did say I could call you that.”

He cups your face and kisses you, momentarily forgetting his teammates and their families around you. “We could go tell them now?” he suggests, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Do you want to?”

Trent starts skating over to the rest of the guys, Ben giggling and playing with the rest of the kids. The two of you start talking to his teammates, introducing yourself to Jack and Jeremy, keeping your eye on Ben while he plays as you wait for Trent to finally say something about him.

“Trent! Trent!” Ben’s voice tears you two away from the conversation. “I’m you!” he yells, using the stick to try to shoot the puck, instead missing the puck and falling down on the ice. He was trying to process what just happened, hopefully not meaning to do what he did.

You look at Trent’s face, his teammates laughing while his face turned red. Ben shoots back up and starts skating again, Trent beaming at him. “That was cold,” he says to you, a smile on his face anyway.

“You know he didn’t mean it,” you tell him, squeezing his bicep before skating over to your son. You lift him up off the ice, thankful that he was still small enough to do that as you kiss his cheek and skate around with just him for a bit.

Trent couldn’t take his eyes off you, his teammates doing everything they could to try to peel his attention away from you. He watched you interact with Ben, the same light in your eyes when he looked at your son.

“Dude?” Jack finally succeeds in bringing Trent back down to Earth, “is that her brother?”

Trent shakes his head, turning back to you. “Nope, that’s her son.”

“Son? What are you thinking?” Jack asked. He knew what he meant. Trent was young. You were young. Having a kid was something real adults did, not whatever definition of adult he fell under.

Trent shrugs, watching you and Ben laugh and smile as you skated around, talking with some of the guys' girlfriends as they coo over Ben. “I’ve been better since I started seeing her.”

“You were fine before you started seeing her,” one of them mumbles.

He rolls his eyes, turning back to them. “Come on. I was fine but I wasn’t great. All I did was punch a few guys and get a couple of secondary assists. Even Butch said something about my play last game. Everything in my life is better with Y/N in it. And Ben.”

He didn’t hear what the guys were saying, and honestly, he didn’t care either. He loved your son, probably not as much as you did, but he felt like he was getting there. He wanted to get there.

Because he loved you.

Dream On

“Where are you?” Molly's voice comes through your phone, panicked and irritated. “I thought you were coming in today?”

“What are you talking about? Today’s my day off.” You were at home, sitting on the couch with the tv playing in the background while Ben played with his toys in front of you. It was one of the rare days that you could spend from the time you woke up until you went to sleep with your son, and you had no real intention of changing those plans, which is what it sounded like Molly was going to ask you to do.

“Well, you know that funding we secured for that new project?”

“Yeah?” you say, Ben coming up to you, trying to show you something. “Hold on, Benny. What’s going on, Mol?”

“They’re getting cold feet.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, we need you here. You and DeAndre were the ones who got them in the first place, and he’s already here. Please?”

You take in a deep breath, trying to figure out if anyone is free to watch Ben. You couldn’t bring him in and have him running around the office while you were trying to convince a major investor to give you the money promised. “I have to find a babysitter but I’ll be there as soon as I can,” you sigh, wracking your brain as to who would be free. Rachel couldn’t typically do weekends, but maybe she could if you promised to pay her extra? But then there was the issue of: did you have the money to pay her extra?

You start scrolling through your contacts, trying to figure out if anyone in there would be able to watch your son, running into your room to get changed to look at least a little presentable.

Trent’s name pops up, calling you with what you hoped would be somewhat perfect timing. “Hey, babe, what’s up?” you answer, your phone on your bed as you try to find something to wear.

“What am I looking at?”

“I’m changing for work and my phone is on my bed, so the ceiling.”

“I thought it was your day off?” he asks as you throw what seemed to be the only clean work shirt that you could find. You knew you were forgetting to do something today, now you realized it was laundry.

“Molly called saying that I need to go in and now I have to find someone to watch Ben or else I’m going to have to bring him in with me, which doesn’t seem like a good idea. And most of my friends are from work or have their own lives and can’t watch him, Rachel can’t do weekends, but I guess I could ask her if she has any friends who could watch him last minute.”

“Y/N.”

“But then I have to pay them and since it’s so last minute I would need to give them more money, right?”

“Y/N.”

“I guess I could, but I think I would also have to pay for meals, and then I have no idea what time I’m going to get home, and whenever that is I’m going to have to do laundry, and-”

“Hey. Earth to Y/N. I can watch him,” Trent finally cuts you off long enough to get a word in.

You were hesitant; Trent had never been left alone with Ben, and probably never left alone with a four-year-old ever by your assumptions. “No, no, I can’t ask you to do that,” you tell him, picking up your phone to see him.

“I’m serious! You just said you need a babysitter, I was going to ask if I could come over and see you before the road trip, anyway.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, biting your lip. Did you trust Trent enough to let him watch and take care of Ben? If you could trust Rachel, a girl who still had a curfew and couldn’t even drive her friends in the same car as her, why couldn’t you trust your boyfriend?

“Of course!” he says, clearly getting up and walking around what you think was his apartment. “I’m leaving right now, I’ll be there in ten.”

He hangs up and leaves you to finish getting ready, hurrying through trying to make yourself look presentable and finding the stuff that you needed. You couldn’t find your work bag, or your computer, mentally cursing yourself for the one time you didn’t leave it in your closet like you normally did.

“Hey, Benny? Have you seen Mommy’s computer and bag?” you go into your living room to where you left Ben. He shakes his head, his overall attention not leaving whichever toy he was fixated on. “Great,” you mutter under your breath, trying to find it. “Ben, how about you and I play a game?” you ask him, getting down in front of him. “If you can help me find my blue bag and my computer, someone really special will come over tonight!”

Ben gets up and starts looking for you, hoping that you can find it before Trent actually gets to your place. “Mommy! I found it!” Ben comes running to you, your bag nearly as big as him as he struggles to carry it to you.

You take it from him, kissing his head as he goes running off, a knock at your door just in time. Opening it, you see Trent on the other side, a bag in his hand. Kissing him hello, you tell him, “I owe you big time.”

“We can discuss payment when you get home. And I have some ideas as to how you could pay me,” he says, bringing you in for a kiss.

“Trent!” Ben runs over, interrupting.

Trent practically launches himself off you, picking up Ben and hugging him while your son’s laughter and happiness fill your home. “Benny Bear!” He gives Ben the bag, telling him to open it.

“A bear!” Ben jumps up and down with the small stuffed animal that Trent had gotten him.

“What does a bear say?” Trent asks, both of them going, “grrrrr,” with their hands curled like claws, their faces scrunched. You felt yourself melting at the sight of Trent getting along so well with Ben, your son running around in circles with his new toy that he would probably say is his favorite since it came from Trent.

“Did you buy him a Benny Bear?” you gush, bringing him in for a hug.

“I saw it when I was on the road and had to get it for the little guy.”

“You love him,” you tell him, not needing to ask since you already knew what his answer would be if you did.

“Of course. But you have to get to work,” he tells you, pushing you off him.

“I’ll pay you for whatever you get for dinner, order what you want, within reason for him.”

“You don’t have to pay me back, and I’ll make sure to get him lots of candy,” he jokes, earning a look from you. “I’m joking,” he says, throwing his hands up in defense. “Go, go to work. I’ve got this.”

“If you need anything call me, or even one of the guys who have kids. If you trust them, I’ll trust them.” You kiss him again, yell goodbye to your son and remind him to behave for Trent. You were nervous about leaving Ben alone with him, but if you wanted to be serious about this guy, you had to do it at some point, right?

You close the door, leaving Ben and Trent alone on the other side as you try to think about how you and DeAndre can now keep your investors from pulling money, practically running down the hall so that you can get to your car.

Trent turns around, Ben already sitting back down on the floor and playing away with his toys. He had no idea how to watch a four-year-old. He takes in a deep breath, sitting on the ground with Ben, his back leaning up against your couch. “Alright, Benny, what do you want to do?”

Ben hands Trent a toy, starting to ramble on about whatever magical world he’s conjured up that Trent was no part of. He had no idea what he was doing, trying to follow along with your son’s imagination as best as he could.

Trent didn’t know how you did it. Ben was a ball of energy all the time, and at home seemed to be no exception. Trent was chasing him around as they played ‘Bear catcher,’ which Trent wasn’t really sure the rules of in the first place, just following around your four-year-old through your apartment while he sprinted, jumped, hid, crawled, and did every other action that Trent felt too old for.

Ben finally sits down and focuses on the tv when he hears some song coming from it, the first moments that Trent can sit down as well, hoisting himself onto the cushions. His phone starts buzzing, a call from Jack coming in. “Hey, what’s up?”

“What are you doing right now?” Jack’s voice comes through the phone as Ben gets up again, starting to run around with the bear Trent bought him.

“I’m watching Ben.”

“Since when are you a babysitter?” Jack asks, judgment dripping in his voice.

“Since Y/N needed a babysitter and I was free.” Ben climbs up on the couch and starts jumping, Trent suddenly feeling a wash of panic over him at the thought of Ben falling and getting hurt. Jack starts saying something that Trent knew he didn’t want to hear anyway, giving him the perfect excuse to cut him off. “Hey, Ben, you’ve gotta be careful. Sorry, dude, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.”

He hangs up before Jack can get another word in. “Hey, Benny. Mom said we could order dinner,” he says, pulling Ben into his lap in hopes that he would calm down long enough so he could talk to him. Ben squirms as his energy never seems to stop, Trent doing everything he can to try to figure this out. “What sounds good to you?”

“Ice cream!”

Trent lets out a small laugh, Ben’s face glowing at the thought of ice cream for dinner. “No, bud, you can’t have ice cream for dinner.”

“Ice cream! Ice cream!” Ben wriggles free of Trent’s grasp, repeating the phrase over and over again as he sets off running around again.

Trent was way in over his head. He didn’t think that Ben would have this much energy for this long. Whenever he was with you, it was either during the day and Ben stayed relatively calm, or when you were playing, he had you to help counteract and keep Ben from being the seemingly crazy child that he was right now. He could call you and ask what to do, but from how you sounded on the phone and when he came over, you were way too stressed out to also have to worry about Ben at that moment. He could call one of his teammates who actually knew what they were doing when it came to child care, but Jack’s words from the family skate practically haunted him. He wasn’t in too over his head when he was with you, or when he was with you and Ben. But just Ben? Not going too well.

“Benny Bear, come here,” Trent says, reaching out to catch Ben as he runs by the couch. “How about, we get something else to eat, and if you eat all of it, I’ll get you ice cream?” he asks, making a mental note to at least text you to ask if it was ok that he have it. Ben nods his head since Trent technically said he could have ice cream. “What do you want?”

“Mac and cheese!”

“What about,” he starts, pulling out his phone. “Some chicken fingers?” Something told him cheese and ice cream wasn’t going to end well for Ben’s stomach that night, and by default, it wasn’t going to end well for Trent, either.

Ben nods, going back off and running around the room. He had to tire out at some point, right?

“Hello?” you answer your phone, Trent calling you to make sure his dinner plans were ok.

“Hey, Ben said he wanted ice cream, but I told him only if he eats his dinner, and I had to make sure it was alright with you, first.”

“What did you settle on?”

“Chicken fingers?”

He hears someone calling your name in the background, you yelling something back to them in panic. “Yeah, there might be some in the freezer? If not, just tell him that the ice cream fairy is coming later and he can have it tomorrow, or something. There are also some carrots in the fridge, too. Tell him he has to eat some of those if he wants ice cream, even if I don’t have any. Have some with him, pretend they’re spaceships, and play with them before you eat them, that normally distracts him long enough.”

“That works?”

“Trent, he’s four. Most things like that do.” He hears more yelling from your end, Ben coming zooming by him yet again, nearly tripping over Trent’s feet. “I’ve gotta run. Love you, bye.”

You hang up before Trent can react. You hadn’t told each other that you loved the other yet. He knew he loved you, but he didn’t know if you loved him back. But you just said it, and he didn’t even know if you meant it since you said it in such a hurried context. He hoped you meant it. He can’t even focus while he’s ordering dinner, not really sure what he was having other than the carrots you mentioned were in the fridge.

Trent just sits there while he waits for the food to arrive, getting the carrots out and trying to see if there was anything close to ice cream, or even yogurt that he could throw in the freezer for Ben while he continues to zoom around your apartment. “Hey, Benny, look!” he says, holding up the carrots. “Spaceships!”

This felt like he was talking to a dog, which seemed weird, but at this rate, Ben was tiring him out so fast he didn’t know what to do. He and Ben start playing with the carrots, watching your son eat what was in front of him when the doorbell rang for food.

Ben keeps playing with food, something Trent thought you probably wouldn’t like too much, but at this point, he didn’t know if he should care. He had no idea how you did this. There was no way Ben had this much energy every night, right? He had never seen you exhausted, so Ben couldn’t be a ball of energy all the time. At least, that’s what he convinced himself as he sat there eating his food.

Eventually, Ben goes to sleep, Trent helping get him ready for bed and tucking him in. You had texted that you weren’t sure when you were going to be home, but Trent was free to stay the night instead of driving back home regardless of what time you would be back, something he gladly took you up on.

Trent finally settles down after finding a pair of sweats he left at your place a while ago, collapsing onto the couch in complete exhaustion from Ben’s running.

“Trent?” he hears Ben’s small voice coming from down the hall, pulling Trent away from the trance he fell in trying to stay awake until you got home. “Trent!”

He runs down the hall at the sound of the increased panic in your son’s voice, not sure what he was supposed to expect when he practically burst through his bedroom door. “Buddy, what’s wrong?”

Ben was breathing heavily when Trent got close to his bed, clutching his sheets to his chest, “I had a bad dream.”

Trent sits down on Ben’s bed, a sad smile on his face. “Ah, Benny, it’s all over now. You’re safe.” Ben nods his head, a terrified look still on his face. He pulls Ben in for a hug, kissing the top of his head, Ben’s small arms wrapping around Trent’s own. “How about I read you a story to help you fall asleep?”

Ben nods, jumping out of bed and getting a book for Trent. “Goodnight Lab?” Trent reads, a confused look on his face.

“Mommy likes science,” Ben offers as his explanation.

“Of course she does,” he says, opening the book, putting his arm around your son as Ben cuddles up against Trent’s chest. “In the great green lab, there was a laser, and a lab notebook, and a picture of Einstein with a stern look,” he starts, already seeing Ben’s eyes getting heavy.

You finally get back home, seeing the light on, no one in the living room. Wandering through your apartment, you hear Trent’s voice coming from Ben’s room, finding him there with your son, him asleep against Trent’s chest as he whispers the end of the book to him, “Goodnight liquid nitrogen, goodnight compressed air, goodnight scientists everywhere.”

You stand in the doorway, Trent not noticing you as he slips himself from Ben, your son curling up with his blankets. Trent bends down to kiss him on the head, tiptoeing out of the room.

“Hi,” you whisper, closing Ben’s door behind you, giving Trent a kiss hello. “What was that?”

“He had a nightmare, so I read him a story to calm him down and get him back to sleep,” he explains.

“That’s so sweet of you,” you tell him, leading him down the hall to your room.

He shrugs, closing the door behind you. “My mom used to do it for me and my siblings. I always told myself that I would do it for my son or daughter.” You don’t know what to say, just pulling him in for a kiss, down on your bed. He pulls away, a smile on his face, “Oh, and I love you too,” he tells you, hoping that Ben didn’t wake up and hear what you two were about to do next.

Sweet Emotion

“Happy birthday, Benny!” Trent says, taking a video of your son as he blew out the candle on the small cupcake in front of him. Your son’s fifth birthday was spent out with Trent, starting with him making breakfast again, taking the two of you to the park and Boston Commons as he played with Ben the entire time, out to dinner where you were now, treating you the entire way. Ben didn't even care about the gift that you had gotten from Andy, something he had previously looked forward to every year. Ben was starting to see Trent as a father figure, something that was both terrifying and exciting to you.

If Trent, for whatever reason, stopped wanting to be part of your life, that would mean he would also probably leave Ben’s, a boy who already didn’t know his father and didn’t seem to want to know him. But he wanted to know Trent, he loved Trent, and you knew Trent loved him, too. You were just afraid he would fall out of love.

Ben was giggling as Trent smashed part of the cupcake against his nose, the bright red frosting making him look like Rudolph as he tried, and failed, to lick it off himself.

“Did you get that part, too?” you ask Trent, leaning over to see his screen.

“Yeah, I’ll send it to you. Do you mind if I post it to my private story? Some of the guys and their wives would go crazy for this.”

“Only the private one,” you tell him, laughing as you turn to Ben to see his face more of a mess than before, the red frosting now spread to his cheeks, “Benny, what happened?”

“I’m painting,” he says, using his finger to smear the frosting on his face.

Trent can’t help but laugh, you pulling Ben in for a hug. Trent snaps a picture of you kissing the frosting off his face. “Wait a sec,” he says, calling over a waiter to take a picture of the three of you, both of you kissing Ben’s cheek as he beams at the camera.

You see him set his phone down, notifications lighting the screen up as you guys get ready to leave, the picture of the three of you his new phone background.

The next morning, Trent had morning skate before needing to get ready for their game that night. The last game before the All-Star Weekend marking the halfway point of the season was always both nerve-wracking and exciting, the hypothetical of ‘if the season ended today, would you be in or out of the playoffs?’ always on everyone’s mind even though it meant virtually nothing, but still wanting to stay at one of the top spots in the league regardless.

“Hey, what was with that story yesterday?” Jack asks him after practice.

“It was Ben’s birthday,” he shrugs.

“Isn’t it weird?” Zach asks. “She has a kid. She’s a mom. You aren’t a dad.”

“I never said I was his dad,” he defends himself, starting to take on a hostile tone.

“Well, you’re acting like his dad, aren’t you?”

Trent rolls his eyes as his only response. What was he supposed to do? Ignore that you have a child? Trent gets up to leave, Jack now standing in front of him to stop him.

“You’re with them all the time. You watch him when Y/N is busy. You brought them to family skate. You know his favorite toys, his favorite tv shows, you facetime them every night before the game because he’s going to be asleep by the time the game is over. You’re not his dad,” Jack lists to Trent, Trent getting more angry with every word that comes from his friend.

“What am I supposed to do? Pretend that Ben isn’t part of her life? Pretend that she has no kid? I can’t do that. I don’t want to do that.”

“It’s messing with you, Trent!” Jack yells, the rest of the remaining guys getting quiet. “You don’t do this. You don’t date a girl who has a child and play ‘house’ with her. You’re the guy who just fucks around and has fun. Where did he go?”

“I can’t change? I can’t settle down because I wasn’t settled before?” Trent responds, knowing that his face was bright red, “I love Y/N, and I love Ben. I don’t care if you think it’s ‘not normal.’ It’s what I want and you don’t really get a say in that.” Jack stands there, stunned by his friends' words, still struggling to find them as Trent grabs his bag and walks out of the room to go home before the game.

He wanted to call you and talk about it with you, but what was he going to say? ‘The guys think my dating you is weird since you have a son?’ The flash of your expression appeared in his mind when you realized the guys didn’t know about Ben at family skate, the pain he knew you felt when you thought he was ashamed of Ben. He wasn’t then and he isn’t now.

But what was he doing? Jack was right: he wasn’t Ben’s dad. He could never really be Ben’s dad. Why did your son mean so much to him if he had no relation to the child in the first place?

Why did he have to say he was all in? He was supposed to be focusing on himself and his hockey, not a girl he met at a bar and pouring all his excess energy into you and your son. What was he supposed to do? Pull back? Pull you away from your son? There was no way that was going to be an option, and there was no way that was an option he wanted to follow.

He was supposed to be following his normal pre-game traditions and routines, not having his mind run rampant over the thought of you and Ben and what his teammates think.

He pulls out his phone, a notification from Instagram telling him that you had responded to his story a few hours ago while he was at practice. Trent opens it, seeing the picture of Ben, looking so happy with the cupcake that was all his, the red frosting seconds from being smeared all over his face. Trent didn’t think about being a dad anytime soon. He really never had any intention of settling down, at least not yet, not seriously, yet there he was, thinking of Ben like his own son, head over heels for you and your son.

It was too much, wasn’t it?

His phone started buzzing with texts from the guys to make sure that he was ok after they watched his and Jack’s blow up in the locker room. Trent didn’t even care about them at this point, knowing that he should at least answer them even just to tell them to leave him alone for the time being.

But what if they were right? Jack’s words kept ringing through his head, that he was just a guy who had fun because that’s what he wanted, not a guy who settled down with a girlfriend, and especially not a guy who settled down with a girl who had a toddler.

He spent the entire time he was supposed to be taking a nap going back and forth between whether or not he was in too deep or if he was fine because he was in love. The night he met you, he had never intended to get this far in with you. He had just wanted to hook up, the reason he went home with you in the first place. But as soon as you told him about Ben, seeing the crushed look on your face at the prospect of him leaving because of your son, he knew that he couldn’t just be one and done. There was something about you and Ben that he had to be part of it once he was introduced, that part of his life that he never knew was missing until he realized he couldn’t picture his life without you.

And it was just too much.

Attitude Adjustment

Trent finally gets to the Garden, not even remembering who they were playing that night. He couldn’t think about anyone else, almost tempted to tell Bruce that he was sick so he could be a late scratch instead of letting this mess with him. Because no matter what he did, he couldn’t get out of his head and focus. The music that he normally played before a game wasn’t working, even so much as trying to close his eyes and picture being on the ice while he was in the locker room before the game.

No one approached him while he was in his stall, probably out of fear of another outburst from him. He wasn’t even paying attention when Bergeron gave his traditional pre-game motivational speech before they all went out to the ice, Trent skating around by himself in hopes of being able to focus before they played the Flames that night.

“Alright, what’s going on?” he hears someone say, not even noticing who came up to him in the first place.

He looks at Brad, suddenly thankful that there was someone on the team who knew what he was going through. “Katrina already had Sloane when you two met, right?”

“Y/N and Ben on your mind?”

“You were in the locker room after practice.”

The two of them skate around their half of the ice, the time before the game ticking down. “When you date a woman, when any two people date, there’s always going to be something that can get in the way and potentially break you up. That includes their family, their kids if they have them. You need to decide if you want to let Ben break you and Y/N up or if you’re going to take him in and not let him do that.”

The guys were migrating back to the bench, Brad still on the ice for the starting lineup. “It worked for you, though,” Trent says, hanging back as long as he could, his eyes darting back and forth between the clock and his teammate.

Brad shrugs, looking out to the blue line where Bergeron and Pastrnak were already waiting. “I don’t see Sloane as any less of my son than I see Sawyer as my daughter. It worked for me. If you want it to work for you, then you have to make it work.”

The buzzer sounds, Bruce yelling for Trent to get off the ice and onto the bench. Did he want this to work with you and Ben? What the three of you had was already great, but Trent had barely spent any time with you, a time when you and he could just be a couple without worry of anyone else.

Trent’s line goes out on the ice, his mind still occupied as he skates. The puck touches his stick, him making a mad dash towards the Flames net, only to get tangled up with Tkachuk, sending Trent to the ice. He doesn’t get up for a minute, trying to process what happened, an easy shot and probably goal just messed up, leading to a breakaway to the other end to put the Flames up 1-0 against the Bruins.

By the time he can finally get himself up, Bruce is yelling at him that if he messes up like that again then he’s benched the rest of the game, definitely not a good look going into the All-Star break. He gets back out on the ice, the same thing happening with him tripping on a breakaway, this time over himself instead of a Flame, again leading to them scoring and putting them up 2-0. He couldn’t get out of his head. Trent sat there the entire time, not even focusing on the game, not focusing on the comeback his own team had to win the game 4-3.

He didn’t talk to anyone in the locker room, rushing out as soon as he could to go home, hearing Brad’s voice carry through the hallway to the elevators as he explained what he knew about the situation, no doubt that Jack offered his own remarks that Trent was sure would have lead to them fighting right there.

He had never wanted to fight one of his teammates over shit they said before, let alone one of his best friends. Other guys on other teams? Sure. But Jack?

Trent gets into his car, his phone already blowing up, asking him if he had still wanted to come on the trip to Puerto Rico he and the guys had planned with their girlfriends a while back. He had completely forgotten about the trip, no one even mentioning it for the longest time, not even sure that it was actually booked by anyone.

What surprised him most was Jack asking in the group if you were going to come with them, followed by a separate text saying that he meant it, that he wanted you to come.

Maybe this is what you and Trent needed; a trip with the guys, the two of you able to spend some time alone and just be with each other without the constant worry of someone or something else. He texted back that he would be there, not sure about you yet.

“Hello?” you answer your phone, Ben’s coming through the background. Hearing him made Trent hesitate, swallowing hard.”Trent?”

“Yeah, uh,” he swallows again, “Sorry, um, mind if I stop by for a few minutes?”

You sit up from the couch, looking at the mess you didn’t even realize Ben had created during the game. “Yeah, sure. I’ll see you soon?” you say, hearing him start up his car.

“Yeah, awesome,” he says, hanging up before either of you could say anything else, practically speeding out of the Garden as fast as he could to get to you. The more he thought about it, the more excited he was about spending a week with you.

“Hey, Benny, guess who’s coming over soon?” you put on a cheery voice, crouching down to the floor where Ben was playing with his toys.

Your toddler started bouncing up and down, his arms waving around in excitement. “Trent?” he squeals.

“He should be here any minute, help me pick up some of your toys, ok?”

You and Ben start to scramble to pick everything up. You knew Trent wouldn’t normally care if there were toys on the ground, but there was something about the tone of his voice when he called to tell you that he was stopping by that worried you.

You had watched the game, you weren’t stupid that he had had an awful game, thankful that it was an earlier evening game that Ben could watch with you. Even he was upset when Trent fell, both times, getting benched and hearing Jack and Brick speculate what was up with one of their favorite players.

Ben continued to buzz around as you waited, thankful that he couldn’t sense the anxiety that was building up while waiting for Trent. You hear him knocking on the door, getting up while Ben seems to be oblivious to the sound. You smile when you see him, mirroring his own expression, the complete opposite of what you expected given the conversation you had minutes ago.

“I have something to ask you,” he starts, his hands on your waist as he starts walking you backward down the hall, seemingly toward your bedroom.

“Trent! Trent!” Ben comes up to the two of you, bouncing up and down, Trent's hands releasing their grip on you. “Are you coming on Friday?” Ben asks him, referencing his concert at school that Trent had promised to come to.

You saw the smile on Trent’s face fade at Ben’s words, a nervous look taking over as he knelt down to look Ben in the eye. “I really want to see your concert, buddy, but I’m not sure if I can make it. I’m gonna try, though, ok?” he tries to save face when he sees the crushed look on your son’s face.

Ben nods, not understanding what Trent was really saying to him. In his world, Trent saying he wasn’t sure meant he didn’t want to see him sing with his other classmates. “Um, Ben, why don’t you go play in your room for a little bit, ok?” you ask him, guiding him to his room, watching him run down the hall. You turn to your boyfriend, clearly confused by what he just told Ben. “It’s the All-Star break, what came up?”

“The guys and I are going away for the break, and I want you to come with me.”

“What are you talking about? You said you were staying here?” you ask him, praying that Ben doesn’t come out of his room and couldn’t hear any of this.

“I know, I know, but, come on, things change,” he says, taking your hand and trying to lead back down your hallway.

“Wait, Trent, come on,” you stop him, turning him around to face you. “You want Ben and I to come with you on a trip with the guys? What guys, where are you going?”

His expression drops again, “I was kinda hoping it would just be me and you.”

“And where would Ben be? I can’t just leave him alone. I can’t go away with you.”

“But, Y/N, come on,” he whines. “This could be so good for us. A few days, just you and me, no distractions, nothing stopping us from just being together, like a real couple.”

“Distractions? A real couple? Trent, what the,” you stop, realizing you were standing right outside of Ben’s door. You look between Trent and the door, Trent’s pleading expression as you take him down the hall, practically slamming the door to your own bedroom. “What the fuck are you talking about?” you hiss.

He sits on your bed, you still standing, towering over him. He puts his hands in his face, letting out a deep breath. “I’m,” he starts, “I just want time where it’s you and me. Other than that night at the bar, we almost never have had more than a few hours when you and I are alone. I need to get out of Boston for a bit, and I don’t want anyone with me beside you.”

“Trent, I can’t,” you protest, sitting down next to him.

“Yes, please, just say, yes.”

“No, Trent. You aren’t hearing what I’m saying.”

“I am, I just-”

“Ok, then you aren’t listening! I can’t just drop everything on a moment’s notice and go off with you on a vacation. I have a kid, and if you haven’t noticed, I can’t exactly afford a babysitter for more than two nights in a row, let alone watching him all day every day for an entire week.”

“Don’t worry, I can pay for one, I just need to get out of here, and I need you with me.”

“Trent, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Ben can stay with a sitter.”

“Don’t you get it? Ben comes first. Ben has to come first. When it comes to a decision between you and Ben, or anyone and Ben, my choice is always Ben. There is never a case when I’ll pick something or someone over him, especially not going on some trip with you and your frat boy-like teammates because you’re upset you had one bad game. I choose him every single time. Especially over you, Trent.”

“What about Ben’s father? Can’t he stay with Andy?”

You can’t help but gasp, hurt by what you thought Trent meant. “You mean the father that didn’t want him? I. Told you. This,” you say, standing up again, “Andy wants nothing to do with Ben. And right now it seems like neither do you.” You could feel the tears threatening to roll down your cheeks, turning around and heading out of your room. You couldn’t look at him. You had no idea where you were going to go, given that you had Ben in his room and couldn’t leave him.

“Y/N, please, I’m sorry,” he runs after you, stopping you before you reached the door. “I just want a few days, where it’s you and me. Where everything is easy for us. Where there’s nothing, no one, besides you and me.”

“This isn’t supposed to be easy. You knew it wasn’t going to be so why are you so shocked that this is how it is?” you tell him, the tears finally falling.

The two of you stand there for a minute, Trent starting to reach for you a few times before running his hands through his hair. “It’s me and Ben, or neither of us,” you give him an ultimatum. His mouth opens and closes like a fish, wishing he can find the words. “Fine. If you can’t make the decision, I will. Get out.”

“Y/N, come on.”

“No. If you have to think about it, then you aren’t ‘all in,’” you call back to the morning after you two met. “Because if you were, you wouldn’t have to think about it.”

Trent doesn’t say another word, pushing past you and leaving you there.

You press your back against the door, letting out a silent sob so that Ben can’t hear you. This was exactly what you were afraid of, wiping the tears from your face and peeling yourself off the door. You walk down the hall, hoping that Ben wouldn’t notice the redness that was probably in your eyes from crying, opening his door.

“Where’s Trent?” Ben asked, handing you a toy of his when you sit down on his floor with him.

You swallow hard, not sure what to really tell him. “He had to go, Benny,” you say, running your hand on his hair, pulling him close to kiss the top of his head.

“When’s he coming back, Mommy?”

You put on a fake smile for him, not wanting to let him know when you really thought Trent would be back. “I don’t know, sweetie. Not this week.”

I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing

You hadn’t checked anyone’s story on Instagram since last night, sitting on the metal chairs in the middle of the day, surrounded by parents much older than you, figuring now was probably the only time you hate the chance.

You tap through them, some stories from friends from college, random celebrities that you followed. You finally get to Jack’s story from last night. They were in Puerto Rico, in some dark restaurant. Zach and Jeremy were dancing, Jack behind the camera. In the corner, you could see Trent sitting at a table, looking miserable. He sees Jack with his camera, shakes his head and storms off. You replay the story, Jack’s shaking making you think that he was saying something and turning the sound on low, holding the phone to your ear. You could hear the music more than anything else, sounds of Zach, Jeremy, and Jack’s laughter breaking through after one of them said something inaudible. Trent must have gotten up at that point, because you hear Jack yell, “Oh, Trent! Come on, man! Have some fun!”

You go to Trent’s profile, hoping that he had posted anything. The last photo he has posted was of the two of you, him strategically cropping out Ben because you had asked him to. It was from Ben’s birthday, outside the restaurant. He had captioned it, ‘Spent the day with my two favorite people, Bear not shown.’

Ben’s preschool teacher gets up on the stage, the high-pitched whispers of the four- and five-year-olds starting by the back door as Ms. Barry introduces the class, all of them walking up in a line to the stage. They start waving to their parents, Ben waving to you as everyone, including you, has their phone out waving back and recording the moment. The children start singing ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,’ their pixie-like voices filling the auditorium, all slightly out of key and slightly out of sync with each other. Towards the end of the song, you notice Ben starting to jump up and down, anxious over something he saw towards the back of the auditorium, as did some of the other children. You figured it was nothing, none of the other parents turning around to look at what it was either.

They go onto their next song, one you weren’t paying attention to, nor did you recognize it. Ben was no less antsy than he was before, waving again with the biggest smile on his face. It had to be someone.

You turn around, Trent leaning against the back wall, one hand in his pocket while the other was waving to Ben. All of his attention was on Ben. You turn back in your seat, shocked that he was there. He was supposed to be in Puerto Rico.

You put your bag on the seat, the mom next to you promising to watch it. You sneak back to Trent, not sure what to say to him. You turn to Ben, giving him the thumbs up and a single finger to tell him that you were going to be back in a second, feeling bad that you were leaving your so. Ben jumps up and down, nodding and continuing to sing.

You grab Trent, pulling him out of the room and into the small hallway. “What are you doing here? You were in Puerto Rico last night; I saw you on Jack’s story.”

He looks down at his feet, biting his bottom lip. “I couldn’t be there knowing you and Ben were here.”

“That’s not what you said when you wanted to go.”

He nods, looking up at you for a second before his eyes flick back down to his feet. “I told you I was dumb.”

“So why are you here then?”

“I told you when we first met that I was all in. I can’t be all in if I’m not here.”

“So?”

He takes a step closer to you, hesitating for a moment. “So. I don’t want to miss anything with you, or with Ben.” You don’t know what came over you, kissing him outside your son’s concert the way you did. You can hear the parents start to cheer, signaling that the concert was finished. Trent pulls away, your foreheads pressed against each other. He smiles before stealing a kiss again, pulling you back inside.

Ben comes running up to you, giggling with his arms open. “Trent!”

“Benny Bear!” he responds, crouching down with his arms open, hugging Ben when he came in contact. He picks him up, kissing him on the cheek, your hand on Trent’s back.

“You came! You’re back!” Ben squeals, burying his face in Trent’s shoulder.

“Back and here to stay,” he says to you, giving you a quick kiss before putting Ben down, getting your bag, and going home.

#trent frederic #trent frederic imagines #boston bruins #bruins imagines #boston bruins imagines #bruins #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagines #aerosmith fic

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harold-has-style · 2 years

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Harry's House: First Impressions

First LISTEN: Out Loud, Second: with headphones

Music For A Sushi Restaurant: A GROOVE. Scoob-a-doop-bo-bob. This man is the scatman. Lizzo needs to get on a remix of this ASAP! Or at least cover it. This will be so amazing live. 80's bop! Love the horns or whatever too!

Late Night Talking: MAN IS IN LOVE. YA BOY IS WHIPPED. Things haven't been quite the same. A lot of change happening metaphorically on this album.

Grapejuice: A crooner. YOUUUUUU. Shakespeare who??? This album seems like a chill one you listen to....around the house....eh? eh? I'll see myself out. NAH fr, I would definitely listen this to study, gives me low-fi vibes. (Liked it better the second time with headphones)

As It Was: In the album order it hits like woah. New chapter like Zane said. Feels surreal and cool to sing along. Like feels sped up but it's just cause the track before was so calming.

Daylight: This album is much more electronic than acoustic fine line. But the rock of this? FIRE! Very unexpected and I love it! Someone doing coke??? V bad harry. bad one. If I was a blue bird? So cute!!! Reminds me of old 2000s coldplay as well. I'm guessing this is the cocaine album.

Little Freak: Jezebel? mE! I'm a whore. Ya welcome. I expected it to be more risque but it's actually so romantic and kinda cute. Lana Del Rey could sing this and it would be cool too. Just thinking about youuuuuuuu. Love the guitar.

Matilda: Family never showed me love? Yeah no shit. That's why I'm listening to your album at 2am. Dead inside? *that's so raven voice* Yep that's me. I do want to do it on my own, thanks harry! KEY CHANGE KING! This song really made me smile. On second round, it feels like an intimate hug from Harry.

Cinema: This is so cute. I'm guessing it's about Olivia, which I find adorable. Do you think I'm cool??? Aw, little Harry has to prove himself. Good. Damn this nigga screaming in the background. You okay??? You pop when we get intimate? if this is his way of bragging about making a woman come then so be it. But okay....

Daydreaming: As soon as I heard it, I loved it. INTRO IS AMAZING! Like the groove is soooo sick. Love me like you paid me? Sugar daddy. Also gives me a little bit of Stevie Wonder vibes. Can't wait to hear this live!!!

Keep Driving: Very cute and cinematic way of singing. This album feels very indie. Hash brown egg yolk I will always love you? CUTE!!!! Like I can see this music video and the camera cutting rapidly between these things. I love it. Puff pass? Edibles? Cocaine? Say no to drug kids. This man loves a good drugs sex and love theme and I love that for him. Choke her with a sea view??? Yes please daddy. I told y'all this man wasn't vanilla. My fave on the second hearing, it was the first song I liked on Spotify.

Satellite: There are a lot of questions in this song and in the album in general. I like that the beginning sounds a bit space like. Like dreampop. idk why this songs feels SAPPHIC! This is gonna be the summer song of the album. IYKYK. When he said I'm here idk why I teared up. I think this song is going to be the best live.

Boyfriends: I'm gonna need some wine and ice cream for this one. Very true. If I ever slip and get my heart broken by a man this song is going on repeat for months. SAY IT WITH ME: MEN ARE TRASH. I think this was the song playing in the trailer????

Love of My Life: Nevermind it was this song playing in the trailer? Baby you are the love of my life???? Sheesh. This man gonna marry that woman. Second hearing update: looked up the lyrics and he talked about a past love. Damn. Sorry bout that. At least you got some good bops out of the heartbreak. Second hearing: Harry loves a bop beat with devastating lyrics. Damn song. Like the sunnier yet just as sad sibling of Falling.

Final thoughts: I feel like Fine Line was more 70's groove and this was more 80's bop. But tbh I think this album is very groovy indeed. I think this album had more similar sounding songs (in a good way) and was more of a mesh of emotions rather than Fine Line which were like, in my opinion, very significant different emotions. Harry delivers again. TBH while Fine Line (the song and album) will have such a special place in my heart but I do like this one. JOB WELL DONE.

#Harry's house #album #album review #harry styles #2022 #mine

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givemethatgold · 3 years

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Fix’er Upper Pt. 3

Pairing: Eventual Frankie Morales x F!Reader Warnings: Clumsy injury, more stupid fighting Length: 2.5k Notes: If these two dummies could have one (1) adult conversation they’d be in bed together by now. Instead, we get this! *waves around vaguely*

PART ONE, TWO

Money was tight. You had been trying to ignore the dwindling stack of cash, telling yourself that you didn’t actually need to fix the cracked drywall, replace the old oven, or fill in the missing patches of shingles.

That ignorance had finally come to bite you in the butt. You were rudely woken at three a.m. to the clap of thunder and the pat-pat-pat of rain hitting the house. You loved storms, the excitement of the lighting, and how fresh the air smelled once the rain had passed.

You rolled over onto your back so you could watch the lightning flashing between the cracks of your curtains. A tap on your forehead quickly destroyed the excitement you were feeling. The wet ‘splat’ was quickly followed by another, and another, and before you were able to scramble up and search for the closest thing resembling a bucket, it had turned into a steady stream.

“Fuuuuuuuck!”

The next morning, the sun rose and shed its light upon a beautiful scene. The leaves, now free from dust, were beginning to turn, the grass glimmered with raindrops, and the sky was clear. You, on the other hand, were a verifiable disaster.

Hair unkempt, heavy bags under your eyes, and wearing the first items of clothing you could find in your scramble last night. Your exhaustion was so complete, it hadn’t even dawned on you to change or freshen up a bit before going out into the public eye. All you could focus on was getting to Hank’s Hardware and buying all the shingles you could get your hands on.

Once again, however, you were harshly reminded of your dwindling savings and just how expensive fixing up a house could be. The owner, Allan if you remembered correctly, had shown you the right size and style for your home’s roof and you nearly choked at the price.

“You know,” he had said gently, “we do have the option of a payment plan. I don’t let just anyone use it either. It’s for trusted customers. I have a good gut on who I can trust.”

“Really?” You asked, feeling a little pathetic while also knowing now was not the time to let pride ruin such a good thing. “And, um, what does your gut tell you about me?”

“Welllll,” he smiled, hooking his thumbs into his suspenders and leaning back a little to size you up. “You’re hard-working, feel like you have something to prove, won’t back down from a challenge, and are in way over your head with that damn old house.”

“Oh.”

“No offense, ma’am! Sometimes I forget myself and talk to strangers the same way I’d talk to my friends.” He patted your forearm gently then hooked it back into his suspenders, pretending he didn’t notice you jumping at the physical contact. “But it’s true. No denying you won’t be able to shingle all by yourself. I’d offer, but I’m in no shape to be climbing up roofs.”

“That’s very sweet of you, truly. But I’ll manage! I doubt I could afford a handyman, so it’ll be me and my stubborn self scrambling around up there.” You joked, but it fell a little flat since the both of you knew it was the truth.

“I’ve got an idea...” Hank trailed off, his gaze searching around by the till. “Maybe you two can help each other out?” He fiddled at the computer for a minute, then grabbed a flyer from the corkboard mounted behind the counter before handing you two pieces of paper. One was a receipt of what you owed him after this latest excursion and a detailed timeline of when small payments could be made.

Glancing up at him, you gave him a watery smile and thanked him for being so kind. Allan waved you off and pointed to the second paper.

‘Help Wanted’ it read, ‘Morales Acres. Light physical labour, quiet environment, rate of pay dependent on quality of work.’

“So friendly and welcoming,” you murmured, sarcastically, under your breath. Not quietly enough though because Allan snorted out a laugh and agreed that the ad was worded very abruptly. However, he vetted for the owner of the farm and suggested you head over to see if he would be willing to trade labour for labour.

Or at the very least, you thought, pay you so you can afford a roofer.

Following the directions Allan had provided for you, you quickly found Morales Acres. Surprisingly, it was a very short distance from your own home, making you wonder if the owner had been one of the people to drop by during your first weeks here.

The driveway was a beautiful, winding drive. The view of the farm was obscured by thickets of trees on either side of the road but you managed to catch glimpses of a pond and a few bales of hay before rounding a bend and driving into the yard.

A small gasp left your lips at the sight. It was picturesque! Something out of a travel magazine, or on every city girl’s Pinterest board. The driveway came to an end in front of a statuesque barn painted in the classic red and white, stone walls cordoned off certain areas that, from where you sat, looked like they could be used to house sheep or hens. A few small sheds were lined up along the other edge of the yard but the main attraction was the neatly lined rows of apple trees all heavy with fruit.

Climbing out of the cab, you slowly made your way into the yard with your mouth hanging open dumbly. It was just so peaceful here and it was obvious that the owner cared deeply for the property. You were enchanted and fell immediately in love.

“You must be the help Allan called to say he was sending over,” a warm voice rang out.

Looking around for the source your gaze widened, then immediately hardened, when you caught sight of who was talking to you.

“You!”

“You?!”

To say it had been a smooth business agreement would be a total lie. You and Market Asshole, Frankie you reminded yourself to call him, had bickered back and forth for the better part of an hour before shaking hands. Surprisingly, you had both argued more for the other person’s benefit, something you had been mulling over since.

If this guy was such an ass, why was he also acting like his help with your renovations wouldn’t be worth as much as you picking apples? You knew your presence disturbed his peace, and that you weren’t as strong as he might have hoped his helper would be, and he still hadn’t trusted you with all the workings of his orchard.

So, while you weren’t going to argue anymore, you knew you were getting the better end of the deal: you help him gather his harvest and get it safely stored in the barn, then he spends the same amount of hours helping you. While the weather during September was prone to drizzle, you had convinced him that a tarp thrown over the baldest patches of roof would be fine and that the apples couldn’t wait.

He had grumpily conceded your point but had sworn that as soon as the last of the fruit was picked he’d be over to do a proper job of it. So continued the uneasy truce between the two of you for the past four weeks. The first week was the hardest as your hands, unaccustomed to work, blistered, and your muscles ached from sudden use. You had initially tried to pass the time by making conversation but you got the hint and stayed quiet once Frankie started choosing trees farther and farther from yours.

Slowly, however, the blisters healed and gave way to callouses. Your muscles became accustomed to the work and you were able to carry twice the amount as you had started off with. Your home could now boast electricity and running water everywhere it should be, and the pile of discarded furniture had been reduced to ash by a spectacular bonfire which Jacquie and her family had joined you in admiring.

Today started off as a normal day. You showed up for harvesting at the break of dawn, having discovered you much preferred the cool morning air over being up on a ladder with the midday sun beating down on you. The trees were obscured by a low fog that had yet to burn up, but you knew what section you needed to start on.

Enjoying the way the fog enveloped you, making you feel like you were in a magical world, you began to hum and your steps took on a dreamy dance-like quality. You had never taken lessons or had even been allowed to make such a spectacle of yourself while living with Brad but now you felt free enough to spin, twirl, and glide. Overcome with the joy your freedom gave you, you began to belt out “These Are a Few of my Favourite Things”, The Sound of Music having been played on repeat when you were a child.

Once you reached the ladder, you hoisted the basket onto your back and continued to sing whatever songs you could remember while you worked. A particularly boisterous rendition of “Do Re Mi” had you flinging your arm out wide and leaning back on the ladder for a dramatic finish.

The apples threw you off balance.

With a screech, you fell backward, managing to twist yourself around to land awkwardly on your hands and knees instead of on the basket of apples strapped to your back. You seemed to have come away unscathed, with just scratched knees and a throbbing in one wrist. Thankfully it wasn’t your dominant hand.

“Whoa!” Frankie called out, catching sight of you on the ground with the ladder tipped on its side, “Everything okay? Are you okay?”

Coming to a skidding stop next to you, he grasped the basket and slipped it off your back with ease.

You took a few deep breaths and nodded. “Fine! Fine, just bruised knees and ego...” you assured him.

“What were you thinking?!” He tore into you, “You could have broken your neck! Or ruined a whole barrel of apples! Then what would I do?! This job doesn’t come with health insurance for Christ's sakes!” Running his hands through his curly, brown hair he let out a huff of air and walked over to where your ladder lay on the ground.

“Un-be-fucking-lievable!” You called out, incredulously. While trying to get to your feet, to march over and wag your finger in his face, you put too much pressure on your injured wrist that caused pain to scream down your arm.

You managed to mask the cry of pain as a cry of frustration and got to your feet. Surreptitiously cradling your hand against your chest, you grabbed another basket and walked past Frankie to start climbing the ladder again. Looking at the ground so he wouldn’t see the tears of pain in your eyes, you mumbled, “I’ll be more careful, alright? I’m sorry.”

Stopping your ascent with a hand on your arm he stuttered out what might have been the beginning of an apology but he couldn’t quite seem to put the right words together so he just cleared his throat.

“Just...” he said in a much softer tone, “just be more careful. Okay? I can’t lose my best worker.”

The lame joke made you smile despite yourself.

“Employee of the month,” you replied in a dry tone, “hurrah.”

You shared wry smiles while a silent apology passed between the two of you. His dark brown eyes held a warmth to them you had never noticed before. Their hue reminding you of every tree in the orchard from the early light to the sunset, golden flecks reminiscent of the sun. His face, weathered from so much time spent outdoors, was marked with laugh lines, worry lines, and a small scar gracing his left cheek.

Your eyes wandered past the scar to note how long his scruffy facial hair had grown and how it had started to obscure those pleasantly pouty lips.

Then, with a start, you realized you were staring at this infuriating man’s lips like a hormonal teenager. With an embarrassed squeak, you quickly scurried up the ladder, hooking your elbow around each rung to avoid any more pressure on your wrist.

To say Frankie was coping well with having someone around would be a gross overstatement.

It’s not that he didn’t like the company or wanted to be alone. The problem was that he was starting to like her company too much, to care too much. And caring too much had been the root cause of all Frankie’s sorrows.

First, there had been his Dad, trying to impress the man who never even wanted kids. Then the force, always feeling like he needed to prove himself and desperate for praise. After that was his wife, ex-wife, and trying to be someone he wasn’t so she would stay interested and in love. The pressure created by caring about these people and the expectations they had for him drove him to abuse drugs. Then his friends came calling and Frankie went against his gut because they had cared so deeply about something and he had cared deeply for them.

His wife, his kid, his family, his job, his friends. He had cared more than they did and he had come away worse off. At least now he was clean and sober, and was very aware of the irony of him now making and selling an alcoholic drink.

No, it was best to stay alone. He loved too freely and put too much stock in being loved back and every. single. time. it hurt him.

So, he closed himself off from you. Initially, he didn’t think it was going to be an issue, especially considering how you two had met. But then he found himself smiling at your stories, idly leaning against a branch so he could watch your graceful moments. He hated watching you leave, knowing you were going home to that piece of shit house that he should really be fixing up for you.

He recognized the signs and nipped them in the bud; working farther away, replying to questions with the fewest possible words, focusing purely on work, and maintaining a professional relationship. It pained him to push you away but deep down he knew it was best for the both of you.

Which brings him back to this moment.

Frankie was too stunned to notice your awkward climb up the ladder. Standing there, dumbly, for another few seconds. Wondering, all the way back to the idling tractor, what the hell had just happened.

One minute he was just driving the tractor minding his own business and the next he was having a mild heart attack after seeing his only worker laying limp on the ground. Then, after arguing like usual, you had shared a...a moment and stared at his mouth almost long enough to tempt him to use it.

Part Four

If you’d like to be tagged please send an ask!

@rebelliouscat @pedro4ever @speakerforthedead0 @yespolkadotkitty @ilikechocolatemilkh @weirdowithnobeardo @pedro-pastel @disgruntledspacedad @a-skov @trash-dino-5000 @reader-s-cantina

#Fix'er Upper #Frankie Morales x reader #Frankie Catfish Morales x reader #Catfish x reader #catfish x you #Frankie Morales x you #triple frontier fanfiction #Frankie Catfish Morales fanfiction

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lapinlunaire-games · 2 years

Note

Oh also ❝ i’m only doing it because you’re cute. ❞ for mina (if you like) ✨

FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF

Neither of you are speaking, but Mina’s tiny flat is filled with sound: the rushing babble of the street hasn’t quite died down into late evening, so it weaves in with the gurgle of water through the pipes, barely muffled by the thin walls, and Mina’s pen scratches over paper with the ferocity of a steam engine.

She writes, pausing only to rewet her nib or ponder the page for a few brilliant seconds before her pen launches across the page once more, spurred on by the invisible whip cracking behind her eyes. Mina writes, and you watch, and London chugs along outside the open window.

And so the silence of your companionship is deafening.

You rest your chin on one hand and study Mina as she scans her notes. The dark gaze that darts between pages is cupped by puffy, purple skin that looks thin as paper, and there’s a jerky fatigue to her quick motions. She’s hiding it well, but there’s only so much Mina can do to disguise the exhaustion wearing her frame.

She stifles a yawn and that decides the matter for you.

“Mina,” you start as you walk casually to her desk and make your presence just enough of a bother to make her stop writing. “I need your help with something.”

She eyes you quizzically, clearly debating how rude it would be to refuse indulging you. You smile broadly and wait—it’s well-rewarded with the click of her pen meeting the desk and the rustle of papers shifting into a stack.

“And this is something you couldn’t have done while you sat and watched me finish this report?”

She’s (mostly) joking—you can tell—but there’s a hesitant undercurrent of frustration to her voice. It occurs to you that it’s nearly the end of the week, and a new month coming up besides. Rent will be due soon—suddenly, the sheer amount of work Mina has been taking on makes much more sense to you.

A tremor of guilt ripples through you, but the slight sway in Mina’s motion as she looks up at you quashes it; she’s hairs away from fraying out completely, and by the Veil, you won’t let that happen.

“I need you to repeat some things for me,” you say earnestly.

Mina lifts an eyebrow, but nods. Your grin widens.

“I am loved. I am brilliant. My worth is not dependent on either.”

She sighs and fixes you with a tired stare. “I am loved. I am brilliant. My worth is not dependent on either,” she repeats flatly.

You huff and grab the pen before she can reach it. Mina scowls, but makes only a halfhearted attempt to swipe it back.

“No! You’ve been sitting here all day—if I hadn’t swung by this afternoon, you wouldn’t have eaten anything at all! You can’t do this, Mina, or you’re going to burn yourself to ashes.” You stare at her to make your point sink in, careful to really make it a stare and not a glare. “Now repeat after me, with feeling. I am loved. I am brilliant. My worth is not dependent on either.”

Mina’s scowl slowly dissolves, leaving her looking more exhausted than ever. “…fine.” Her eyes cut to you, shining razor sharp and vibrant for one beautiful instant. “I’m only doing it because you’re cute, you know.”

You don’t say anything, just poke her shoulder with a slanted grin. Mina's awfully good at reading between the lines of your reactions. She sighs, but some of the tension has lifted from her shoulders.

“I am loved. I am brilliant and tired. My worth is not dependent on either.”

She laughs when you throw yourself onto her in a hug, and the sound settles in your heart like warm summer sun. “Stop it, you’ll get ink all over yourself!”

“I don’t care,” you announce, and something inside you sings at the sound of more laughter rolling from Mina’s lips.

She rests her forehead in the crook of your neck for a few precious seconds, during which the entire world is composed of the smooth, inky black chignon at the nape of her neck and the sliver of skin peeking out between it and her collar. Faintly heady perfume clings to her, something rich and floral but faded, the memory of a scent more than anything.

“You’re adorable. Now let me get back to work—unless you want to go through my notes.” She waves the notepad with a dry smirk, pages nearly black with tiny lines of shorthand.

“Wait,” you protest, grabbing onto her partly out of persistence and partly out of sheer panic. “There’s more!”

You choose to ignore the warning in the way she says your name—no use swerving when you’re already knee-deep.

You cup her face in your hands and hold her gaze with the solemnity of an oath. Reluctantly, she nods again.

“I am not alone,” you murmur. Mina’s cheeks are very warm in your palms.

She hesitates. Without missing a beat, you bat your eyelashes and pucker your lips out so far it hurts.

“Come on,” you wheedle, “do it for my cutesy wootsy sweet little face?”

“Ugh. Only if you promise never to do that again.” Mina shudders, but there’s amusement hidden beneath the disgust. Her voice drops whisper soft—still steady, but so quiet you have to strain to hear her.

“I am not alone.” Her dark eyes hold yours steady, afraid but forging on anyways.

“I can ask for help,” you prompt her gently.

“I…I can ask for help.”

You beam at her. Words come to your tongue, but none taste just right for the moment. Instead, you lean forward and hug Mina again, pressing everything you can’t say into her body as you breathe in the faded fragrance that clings to her like a ghost.

If her laughter was sunshine, the feeling of her hugging you back is a gentle breeze. Delight suffuses through you as Mina sighs again, this time in contentment.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, and in two words she says a thousand. You squeeze her tighter and press three into her skin with a brush of your lips.

#h&h:mina #she needs a hug and a nap #like several naps actually #thanks arlo!!! this was super fun

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salchat · 3 years

Text

The Yellow Room

It was the carving that triggered the memory; a small, rounded shape, which of course wasn’t an elephant, but fit into his hand in the way that he’d imagined those ebony elephants would have fit, had he dared to pick one up. John held the wooden animal now, and its curving sides were so smoothly polished that he could make it rotate just by the movement of fingers and thumb, over and over, the cool, slippery wood running across his palm, across the calluses on his fingers and the pad of his thumb.

He could buy it. Maybe he would, when Rodney had finished haggling over the collection of might-have-beens and maybes that he’d sorted out from the mass of treasures and junk. Maybe John would buy this little, hand-sized carving so that he could touch it whenever he wanted. He’d been far too scared to pick up one of the elephants; far too sad and confused.

They’d been visiting with his Grandma, who his Dad had taught him to address as Mrs Sheppard, so he did, because he always tried to do what his Dad told him to, even when he didn’t understand why. To himself he’d called her Grandma, though, because other people had grandmas and it sounded much nicer.

Her house hadn’t been nice. It was big, real big, but John couldn’t tell what most of the rooms were for. At home there was a room for eating, for watching TV, for playing games, for sleeping. There was the room where the big piano lived that John played sometimes, sitting on his Mom’s knee, pressing the keys she told him to press. And there was a room where you were supposed to sit and be polite and talk to strange people - he didn’t like that room. But at Grandma’s house, all the rooms were like that. There was a piano, but the lid was always shut and no one ever played it, not even Mom.

Mom was different at Grandma’s. She and Dad always said weird stuff beforehand, like ‘keep her sweet’ and ‘for the boys’ future’ and there was almost always an argument on the way home, where harsh, raised voices would fill the car and then Mom would cry which made John cry, which made Dad angry. Davey would cry too, but then he cried anyway because he was a baby.

John had made up his mind to be good that day, as good as he knew how; because he was almost certain that the car-arguments were his fault. After all, the grown-ups didn’t quarrel with Grandma. They were always real polite and nice to each other, even if their smiles didn’t ring true. John was the one who was constantly being told to stand up straight, keep his hands out of his pockets, do something with his hair (what? why?) and speak only when he was spoken to, as well as speak up and not mumble. So it must be his fault.

That day, he’d decided to be so good that no one would be able to find fault and then on the way home, they’d listen to music in the car and sing along like they did if they’d been on a day trip somewhere nice.

And to begin with, it had seemed like everything was going to work out fine. Grandma, no Mrs Sheppard, had opened the big, shiny door and led them into the hallway and she’d smiled and looked at Baby Davey, sitting up on Dad’s arm and her smile had broadened.

“How big he’s getting,” she’d said. “And how like his Grandpa! What a fine little man!”

Even John had had to admit Davey looked pretty good, for a baby. He’d had on a tiny little suit and tie and he could sit up straight now, not just slump in a heap in his highchair. His hair had grown in and it was soft and blonde and his Mom had damped it down and parted it with a precise line that ran straight to one temple, the hairs either side staying exactly in place.

Grandma had tickled his rounded cheek and he’d giggled and then she’d actually leant down and kissed him.

And she’d said again, “Just like his Grandpa! This one’s definitely a Sheppard!”

There’d been a subtle change in the atmosphere just then and, looking back, John wondered whether it was that as much as her repeated use of the word Grandpa that had led to his mistake. Tension between grown-ups had been nothing new to John and he didn’t usually try to do anything about it. But Grandma had kissed Baby Davey and she’d smiled at him and so she must like that kind of thing, even though Mom and Dad said she didn’t. And Dad was wrong about what she wanted to be called too - he must be. And also, standing straight and stiff and trying so hard to be good, to be ‘a Sheppard man’, John had just wanted someone to look at him the way she’d looked at his brother, to approve of him and kiss him and say what a fine young man he was growing up to be. He’d imagined them all smiling down at him the way they smiled at Baby Davey.

So he’d ran forward and opened his arms and said, (without any mumbling, because she didn’t like that), “Grandma!” And he’d hugged her, as far up as he could reach.

Or he would have, if she hadn’t taken a step back, her smiling face retreating behind a mask of distaste. Anger would’ve been better, somehow. An angry face and angry words were honest at least. As a small child, he hadn’t even had words for her expression, but now, a grown man, standing at a market stall on an alien planet, John could easily name contempt, derision and disappointment.

He remembered his mother’s indrawn breath and his father’s harsh bark, his name used as a rebuke. “John!”

He’d stopped, his arms falling to his sides, all his vows and wishes to be good shattered. This was bad. He’d been bad. He’d looked around at his Mom’s pale face and tight mouth, his Dad’s heavily frowning brows and accusing eyes and then back at his Grandma’s, no Mrs Sheppard’s upturned chin and sneer of condemnation.

But now, still holding the carved wooden animal, John huffed a soft breath of bitter laughter. No wonder he could face down a Wraith queen. No wonder he stayed stiff and straight under the disapproval of superior officers. He’d been trained for it.

And then he’d made it even worse, because he knew he’d disappointed all of them and there’d be an argument - no, a row, a furious ferocious row in the car on the way home, and it would all be his fault because he hadn’t been good, because he wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough to be a Sheppard. His chest had tightened and jerked, his throat had closed up so much that it hurt and his face had begun to crumple, no matter how hard he’d tried to keep it straight.

And now, all these long years later, he wondered if the jerk of his father’s head had been as much a thing of mercy as the curt dismissal that he’d thought it to be at the time. Because Sheppard men didn’t cry. That was a rule he’d learned by heart, even at that age. So he’d walked away. He’d walked, not run and he’d opened the door to the entrance porch and gone through it and shut it behind him, hearing three pairs of feet slowly retreating from the shiny wooden entrance floor into one of the many rooms where people sat and were polite to each other. He’d stay here, because he couldn’t be polite. He’d tried and he’d failed.

“You have got to be kidding me! Thirty? For this heap of junk?”

“That is quality merchandise, sir! It is worth fifty easily!”

Rodney should leave the bargaining to Teyla. She’d get him a good deal. But still, if Rodney had a good rant at the stallholder now, maybe he’d get it out of his system for a few days.

A gust of cold wind made the awning above the stall snap. There was rain in the air.

It had been raining that day, the day of the visit; raining and cold, and John, in the square space between outer and inner door, his only company an umbrella stand and its contents, had begun to shiver. The doors rattled in their frames and every time the inner door rattled he’d jumped because he’d thought someone was coming to get him and then the yelling’d start.

But he was cold and they’d gone into one of the big rooms and there were plenty of other places in the house where an unwanted boy could sit and wait - places that might be a bit warmer. So, John had turned the big round handle and eased the door open, slowly, slowly, wincing at the creak of the hinge and then wincing even more as he closed it behind him and the handle turned back into place with a click.

No one had come out, though, so he’d stepped forward, his best, shiniest shoes clicking on the hardwood floor. To his right was the room with the piano, but he wouldn’t go in there because then he’d want his Mom to come and sit him on her knee and play the piano around him and that was almost like having a hug, so he wouldn’t think about that. Maybe he’d only get hugs if he and his Mom were alone together now. In fact, maybe that was another rule. Maybe it was like the crying thing - you could do it as a baby, but once you got to John’s age, that was it, no more hugs.

His eyes had blurred. He’d sniffed, wiped the sleeve of his scratchy jacket across his face, swallowed hard and walked on. Past the dining room, where he had to slowly and carefully eat everything on his plate, even if it was liver and really, really green, bitter vegetables. Past the other sitting room, where you sat after dinner, as if the chairs in the other room could only take so much sitting in one day. He could go in there, but it wasn’t after dinner, so that was another rule he’d be breaking.

And there was another door. He didn't know what was behind it. Could it be a games room? Or might there be a TV? He turned the handle and pushed it open and the door brushed softly over a thick, golden carpet. The room was yellow. All golden and yellow, but not the gold and yellow of flowers or sunshine or new, bright things, but the old, faded gold of another place where you had to be polite and respectful. The heavy hangings at the window were thick, shiny fabric with big tassels holding them back, and even the walls were goldy-yellow with a repeating pattern of curly flower-things that looked like they’d be velvety if you dared to touch them. It was a rich, old, be-on-your-best-behaviour room. John went in anyway, because it was smaller than the other rooms and not so forbidding, although it seemed like this room probably didn’t want him here either.

He closed the door softly behind himself and trod slowly and carefully across the carpet. Maybe he should’ve taken his shoes off. They didn’t usually do that at Grandma’s house, because they were in their best things and he supposed it’d look pretty weird going around in just socks when the rest of you was all fine and neat. And their best shoes only ever went from the car straight into the house anyway. Nevertheless, he picked up one foot and then the other and inspected their soles. But, standing on one leg, he wobbled and flung out a hand for balance. His fingertips brushed over something hard and there was a rattle of a fragile thing about to fall. John’s heart pounded hard and his ears fizzed in terror. If he broke something, if he knocked over a precious antique and actually broke it - it was so awful a thought that he couldn’t even imagine the consequences. It wouldn’t just be yelling. He’d probably be sent away somewhere for bad children that couldn’t behave.

But nothing was broken. It was an elephant, in fact a row of elephants on a small, round side table. It hadn’t even fallen. All was as it should be, the three elephants arranged in order of decreasing size, traversing the tabletop in organised, trunk-to-tail dignity.

John was jerked out of his memory by a jostle to his shoulder and an arm reaching in front of him to sort through a stack of fabric. He needed to focus. Just because Ronon and Teyla were circling the stall, infiltrating the crowd, didn’t mean he could afford to daydream.

But the carved alien animal was warm and heavy in John’s hand, pulling him back into his past. Were those long-ago elephants as heavy for their size? They had probably been made from ebony, or some other endangered hardwood. And their tiny white tusks had certainly been real ivory, stolen from some poor elephants killed on the distant African savannah.

He’d wanted to touch them. He’d wanted to so badly, to see if holding their rounded wooden bodies in his hands would go any way toward taking away the ache in his chest, the emptiness in his arms and heart. He’d wanted to pick up the big Daddy elephant and turn it toward the Mommy and put the baby elephant in between them, guarded by both of their long, dangling trunks. And then he could’ve made them roam over the golden carpet like real elephants across the sandy grassland, and the two big ones would’ve made sure the baby was safe and helped him up if he fell, curling their trunks around his body and setting him back on his feet.

But even though he’d wanted to, he hadn’t touched them. John had kept his arms by his sides, his hands empty, dangling quietly, not in his pockets, not doing anything that anyone could say was bad or wrong. He just stood on the carpet, not even sitting down on the low, padded chair that was the same colour as the walls and the curtains, not even moving closer to the little round table that was the elephants’ domain. He just stood, wondering if he was like the elephants - just someone small and not real. He wasn’t a real Sheppard. He couldn’t be, because he wanted to be hugged and sometimes he needed to cry, and Sheppard men didn’t do either of those things.

“Are you buying that?”

He didn’t remember how the day had ended. He didn’t remember if anyone came to find him or if he’d made his way back through the hallway and waited until they went home. He certainly didn’t remember the inevitable row in the car.

“Sheppard, are you buying that? Hey, you! You can have forty if you throw in this elephant thing!”

John shivered. There was water running down his neck and the awning was snapping and flapping in sharp gusts of wind. Rodney was handing over some trading tokens, his wet hair plastered to his head, his cheeks tinged pink with cold. He nodded to the trader and began packing a slew of items into a wooden crate.

“D’you want to put that in here or are you still bonding?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve been playing with it for ages. Who is it? Dumbo? Nelly?”

“It’s not an elephant.”

“As good as.” Rodney paused in his packing. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“John?” Rodney, hand on hip, eyes narrowed, communicating through body language and willpower alone. They’d had an agreement about this - honesty, about feelings as well as physical stuff. “I repeat, are you okay?”

“Uh, well. This thing reminded me of something.”

“Oh. Something good or something bad? We don’t have to take it if it’s something bad! I can renegotiate. Hey, you!”

The stallholder kept his back deliberately turned.

“No, it’s okay, Rodney.” John tucked the elephant-thing in a pouch in his vest. “It’s kind of not good. But I think… maybe I can make it better?”

“Oh. Right. So, I can expect the full story when we get home?”

“Yeah. The full story.”

Rodney nodded in satisfaction. “Right, where’s the muscle when you need him. Ronon? I bet he’s found a bar to prop up. Ronon!”

John smiled and picked up the crate. And as they made their way back to the Gate, the four of them together, he almost didn’t mind the thought of pouring out his childhood memory to Rodney. He almost didn’t want to run away and hide and stamp everything down until he could reappear, blank-faced and stoic. Because with Rodney, there were hugs every day. With Rodney, you could cry if you needed to. And with Ronon and with Teyla. And maybe he didn’t make a habit of hugging his Marines and crying on their shoulders, but if they came to him with issues that needed that kind of thing he didn’t tell them to man up or expect them to stamp it all down, to bury their feelings.

He was learning. Slowly, gradually, he was learning that this Sheppard man could hug and he could cry and he could do all those things that he’d been taught were so wrong.

And when he got home, back to Atlantis, back to the rooms he shared with Rodney, he’d set the elephant-thing on the nightstand; the thing which wasn’t an elephant. It would glow golden-brown when he turned on the bedside light and he’d pick it up whenever he wanted and hold it in his hands until it grew warm from his touch - just like he’d grown warm from the touch of his friends.

He’d tell Rodney his story about the yellow room and the elephants, and then he’d be held, wrapped in warmth, and if he needed to he could cry all those tears that he’d kept inside himself when he was just a boy, just a little boy who wanted to be loved.

#stargate atlantis fanfic #mcshep #john sheppard #rodney mckay #angst #sentimental

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peachpitfics · 4 years

Text

Mistletoe

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Summary: Every year Rossi holds a Christmas Eve dinner, the Team and their little families attend. This is your first one, and coincidentally, you get caught under the mistletoe.

Length: 2.6k

Pairing: SpencerReid x Female!Reader

Content Warnings: ~none~

A/N: Hiiii, this is super fluffy and sweet. Hopefully the first of a few Christmas themed fics. I hope you like it!!

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You never had anywhere to go for the holidays. You had no real family, moved to a new state, and joined a new force only a few weeks ago. The new team you worked with was a tight knit family. They had been together for years and while they were welcoming and did their best not to exclude you, it was hard to bear the inside jokes and recalling of memories you were not a part of. What shocked and surprised you most about their bond, was the family Christmas held at Rossi’s huge house. Everyone, and their families would come, eat a glorious Christmas dinner, and spend it together.

You rang the doorbell and stood, rugged up on the doorstep, huge wooden and glass double doors in front of you. Dave answered the door, arms wide open as he took you in a loving embrace. “Thanks for inviting me” You shuffled into the house awkwardly, passing Rossi two bottles of wine as he showed you where you could shed your winter coverings. Rossi’s house was beautifully decorated from top to bottom. You were sure it had to have been professionally done. “Thank you y/n, this is great. I’m so glad you could make it out here tonight” Dave beamed at you, “And you look beautiful”. You hadn’t put too much effort in tonight but dressed nicely for dinner at least. What he said made you blush; you hid your face as he led you into the dining room. “Hey! Looks who’s here” Morgan smiled across the table. Garcia, sitting next to him, waving overly excitedly. You waved back, clearly not having had any eggnog. As you sat down, in between Hotch and JJ, Hotch poured eggnog into your glass and clinked glasses with you. “We’re just waiting on the kid, he said he was on the phone with his Mom. But he should be almost here” Rossi shared with them.

They all sat around the table, laughing at Garcia who was intoxicated, conversing over Christmas memories from their childhood. Not all of them were overly happy memories, just thoughts of a simpler time. “What about you, y/n? Favourite Christmas memory from when you were a child?” Hotch asked. Emily looked worriedly at you, she had been the one you spoke to and got to know out of everybody. “Well... um” Clearing your throat, you paused as Spencer walked in and slipped into his seat beside Garcia and across from you. “Yeah, okay. I think I was about 8... I was in my second group home and there were about 15 kids of all different ages. The church choir stopped by to sing carols to us in the evening; and, uh, we had a roast chicken, a lot of us had never experienced Christmas before so it was pretty wonderful. The church also brought us a box of second-hand toys, which was lovely. I think that’s probably the best one” Everyone stared at you in awe. The type of awe you were dreading. You shuffled uncomfortably in your seat as they started to notice that the staring was out of control. “I didn’t know you were a foster kid” Morgan said somberly, having grown up in an area with a lot of foster kids himself. “Yeah, I was. It wasn’t so bad” You smiled softly, begging someone to take the attention off of you. “Sorry I’m late, you guys, my Mother was reminiscing about Christmas in 1969” Spencer chuckled awkwardly. And that was the end of it, their focus was changed, and Spencer was explaining his Mother’s story, which in turn was quite boring.

Within 30 minutes, Rossi and several servers emerged from the kitchen, bringing platters and large bowls and more wine. It was the most extravagant thing you’d seen in your whole life. I’ve never even been a restaurant this nice, you thought to yourself, watching as they served. Rossi held in his hands an exceptionally large knife, whilst standing over the bird, gathering everyone’s attention. “For me, Christmas means being with family. Sharing it with you, makes it the most precious and special time of the year” Rossi paused, “To family”. Everyone raised their glasses and repeated the toast back to him. He carved the meat, and you all passed the fixings round the table. It was the most delicious food you’d ever had. You began to wonder if everyone with a family had a lovely Christmas like this every year.

Before long, the kids were playing hide and seek throughout the house as all the adults made their way into the awesomely large sitting room. Everyone gathered around, sitting in the settee’s or on the rug by the fireplace. “Anyone care for brandy and a cigar?” Rossi asked. “Am I in a game of Clue?” Garcia looked around the room, “Where the hell is Miss Scarlet, I want to ask her some questions”. People snickered at her comments, she got more sarcastically funny as she got further intoxicated. “No seriously, would anyone like a drink?” Rossi stood by his sideboard bar, crystal decanters lined up with matching glasses. “Scotch, for me Dave, thank you” Hotch nodded. “I’ll take one of those as well” Emily smiled. “Not for me, I’m driving” Will grinned at JJ, hoping she would have another drink and let her hair down a little. You noticed this and nudged JJ in the side, “I brought more wine” You raised your eyebrows cheekily at her.

She looked long and hard into your eyes, really thinking over how hectic the headache was going to be in the morning. “Screw it” She mumbled, caving in to your devilish look, “Go get the wine” She lightly tapped your arm. “Oh no, come on y/n, I’ll go” Rossi offered. “Seriously, it’s fine, I’m sure I won’t get lost on the way back or anything” You giggled, jumping up from the floor and heading towards the big arch way through to the foyer. “Hey, y/n!” Spencer stopped you in the doorway, “Would you mind getting me a glass of water?” He asked in a soft tone. You nodded happily; it was an easy request.

“Hold on...” Hotch said quickly. They all stared at you again. “You can’t move” Hotch smiled gently, “You’re under the mistletoe”. Everyone laughed and gaped as Hotch caught you out under the mistletoe. “What do you mean I can’t move?” You laughed, as if this were a silly game. “In the Rossi house, if you pause under mistletoe and get caught out, you have to wait there until someone kisses you” Dave explained. Obviously Hotch had been caught before and was now pointing out Rossi’s next victim. “Who’s gonna do it?” Garcia looked intrigued, waiting for the war between them to begin while you stood there, knees shaking at the thought of having to kiss someone on the team. “Well, I’m out” Rossi said, having reconnected with an old lover recently. Will and JJ snuggled closer together, that was an obvious no. Hotch uncomfortably sat back into the settee, smiling cheekily into his glass.

A few faces turned to Morgan. “Hey now, that’s usually my style, but I’m seein’ somebody at the moment” Morgan shrugged, hoping Penelope wouldn’t pull him apart over the comment he made. Which inevitably, she did. “Can’t I just go to the kitchen, come on, this is silly” You spoke over them, they were discussing among them who should be the one to kiss you and set you free from the nasty grip of the mistletoe. “It’s gotta be Reid” Emily’s voice rang out over all of the incoherent babbling.

Spencer had been laughing and watching this unfold around him, blending into the leather settee like a chameleon. Now that the faces turned to him, he flushed red and he eyes grew wider. “Ha ha, you guys” Spencer tried to redirect, blushing madly “Emily, it’s you! You know it’s you” He laughed awkwardly. “It could be me; I just don’t really think that’s y/n’s speed... whereas you...” She let the rest of the team join in on the end. “Yeah I don’t think she swings that way” JJ looked back at Emily, shaking their heads together negatively. “Which leaves you Spencer, everyone else is attached at the moment” Hotch's voice seemed confident and firm, but had a hint of a giggle in it.

This started to seem like a set up to you, everyone was grimacing, smirking up at you. No one else tonight had been caught under mistletoe and there was no shortage of it in this house. You crossed your arms in front of you and lovingly glared back at each of them. “Come on Spence” JJ grabbed his knee and shook it, as if this provided some sort of moral support. “Spencer! Spencer! Spencer!” Penelope started a chant and within seconds, they had all joined in. “Okay! Okay, okay, you can stop doing that now. The peer pressure has worked” Spencer’s face couldn’t not smile. His cheeks tugged tightly at his lips, and though his face was red, he looked pleasantly excited. Reid stepped over JJ and slowly approached the door frame. He got closer to you, looked into your eyes, and pursed his lips, eyes widening as if to say, “This is weird”. He rocked back on his heels for a moment, hands awkwardly in his pockets. You remained still, one eyebrow raised in shock, arms still folded in front of you. “Come on pretty boy, we haven’t got all night” Morgan teased, Garcia gripping onto him, her eyes as wide as possible so she didn’t miss anything.

In an instant, he lunged forward, a hand landing on your cheek and one at the small of your back. Spencer planted his lips onto yours, you could almost feel him smiling into it. Your arms softened and untangled as they found their way onto his chest in front of you. As you parted, the embarrassing hail of whoops and clapping arose. Spencer stepped back giggling, hiding his face from his colleagues. You pursed your lips together and held your fingers to your lips briefly, surprised at how good that felt. “I’m gonna go grab that wine now” You blushed, laughing along with the hyenas in the sitting room. Pausing slowly at the fridge, your head hitting the metal, you exhaled from deep in your lungs. Never in your life did you think you would be in such a position. But you were happy and almost grateful for your embarrassing workmates.

You returned with the wine, rose coloring still in your cheeks. Spencer was now playing with the kids under one of the many Christmas trees and you retook your position on the rug with JJ and Will, pouring them both a glass of white wine. No one teased anymore, no one laughed. There were just separate pods of conversation. Eventually, after picking up sleepy children off the couches in the lounge room, JJ and Will were thanking Rossi for such a lovely evening. Hotch not far behind with Jack. Those that were left were Morgan and Penelope, desperately arguing over whether or not ‘Die Hard’ was a Christmas film. Rossi and Emily, who were debating finer Scotches and Whiskeys. You watched on, amused by their friendships, and longing to be one of them. Until you noticed that Spencer had gone. You got up from the rug and wondered through the house, finding him on the balcony off the dining room.

You unlatched the door, alerting him to your presence. “Hey” He smiled softly at you. “Hey” You sounded unsure, “I’m sorry if that was super weird for you in there”. He chuckled under his breath slightly as you approached and stood next to him in the cold night air. “You know, I thought it would be... But it was... nice” He nodded, tucking his smile into his scarf. You tried to look away, hiding the permanent smile plastered on your face. “It was nice” You said gently. Spencer turned towards you, and unintentionally looked you up and down, “You must be so cold” He said, shedding his coat and draping it across your shoulders. You looked at the soft brown tweed and curled your nose, “But now, you’ll be cold”. “Doesn’t matter” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Spencer I-” He interrupted quickly, “Can I have a do over?”. “Sorry, what?” You shook off whatever you were going to say and clarified you heard him correctly. “I just- I would have kissed you differently, had they not set me up and cheered like an audience” He closed his eyes, “ I would have kissed you differently”.

Without saying anything, you slid your icy cold hand into his. Warmth radiated from his large hands as his fingers slid between yours. You pulled his hand and turned him to face you. “You can kiss me again” You mumbled. His eyes were so dark and deep, he held eye contact with you, bringing his face slightly down to meet you in the middle. His soft lips, tripping over yours hungrily. His breath warm on your face. His tender hands, not so gingerly on respectful places on your body like before. One hand slid up to your neck, lightly holding on, but eventually wrapping around to grasp the back of your neck. His other hand placed further south of the small of your back, pulling your whole body into him as his tongue delved into your mouth. You tried to move your hands, you tried to do anything, but your brain was completely overwhelmed and stunned by the warmth and pleasure washing over you.

He pulled away, kissing your cold nose, along your jawline. Pressing on last kiss to your lips, and then to your forehead as he wrapped his arms around you. Your body sunk into him. Even without his jacket, he was still so warm, and it was so inviting. You wrapped your arms around his back and held onto him as tightly as he held onto you. “This is a better Christmas story than the one I told before” You muttered at a giggle into his woolen jumper. Spencer smiled into the nape of your neck. “God, I hope so” He laughed, and you felt his whole body move against yours. After a while, you parted and just stood snuggled together on the balcony. “They really set us up, big time” You pondered. “I can’t believe Emily blabbed” Spencer shook his head. You looked sharply up at him. “Blabbed?” You asked confusedly. “Yeah... I kind of told her I had a crush on you” He tried to hide his face but you wouldn’t let him, you grabbed his hand and held it in your own. “Oh my god” That same old shocked expression was strewn back across your face. “I know, it’s super embarrassing and I’m sorry I didn’t -“ You interrupted him this time, “No, Spencer, I told Emily I had a crush on you” You said quickly, without thinking.

Both of you, stunned, really thought about how devious Emily was. Why did we do that? You asked yourself; the answer quite simply was, she was a very open person and people often told her their secrets. “I guess, I’m glad I told her” Spencer smiled, “Because otherwise I never would have got to kiss you”. You leaned up to his lips and kissed him again. “Now, you can kiss me anytime you want” You whispered to him, that gorgeous smile still fighting its way onto his face.

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Inside, Emily and Rossi stood in the doorway of the dining room, peering out onto the Balcony like a pair of sneaky teenagers. They had been watching for several minutes, and though they couldn’t hear the conversation, they knew they were busted for setting the whole thing up. “Thanks again, Dave” Em raised his glass of scotch to Dave’s brandy, both of them grinning like school girls. “Absolutely anytime, my dear” They clinked glasses and walked steadily back into the sitting room, arms around each other.

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