#i think addys need to travel is half a genuine love for it and half a fear that she's only living half a life here

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Don’t Be Over Me

John Wick x Reader (A/n-this should have been the third part of The Arrangement, but I got distracted and ended up writing this)

Warnings- Angst 

Blinking slowly, Y/n hoped the motion would brush the hurt out of her eyes while the long sip of her martini would numb the ache in her heart. Why wasn’t he hurting too? Hadn’t he ever cared, or had they simply been words cast out to reel her in? She wished she knew; Y/n definitely had the courage to kill a man with her bare hands, but approach John after they’d broken up? She could never. 

It happened a month ago, but still, it hurt like hell, and didn’t help that John seemed to have already been over her. Their break-up had been his idea- if it were up to Y/n, they’d still be together, but John had pushed her away, with the flimsy explanation that he wasn’t looking for a commitment. He’d tried once and it hadn’t turned out the way he had expected, and now that John was back in the life, the last thing he wanted was to be attached. Y/n though, Y/n loved John, adored him, messy, bloody past and all; she’d had the same kind, though unlike him, she wanted more than a casual, label-less involvement. But instead of trying with her, John had chosen his own path, walking out of her house without even a second thought.

It killed her, more and more everyday, but Y/n had done her best to put on a brave face. Even if he’d broken her down, shredded her heart, Y/n wasn’t going to let it show. If she did, she’d feel like she’d lost somehow, like it was just a game; John would ruin her and then they’d see who was better at coping. Arguably, he had an advantage. 

In his life, John had done a  lot, more than most, he'd killed, survived, made hard calls, loved and lost. He'd made countless decisions, and had regretted few. At first, breaking up with Y/n was just like that, a decision that he wouldn't regret; he loved her, but she wanted commitment and something that was lasting. But John wasn't ready for that, it had only been a couple years after Helen and he'd only just rediscovered stable ground in the criminal underworld, so naturally, cutting off their relationship seemed like the best way to go. At first, it was okay, she was better off without him anyway. But then it happened, maybe he'd have been okay if he hadn't been there right at that very moment, that movie moment, where one party regretted everything that had led to that very specific moment;

She laughed.

And because the world was a cruel, cold, unforgiving place, it just had to be genuine, full bodied, melodious laughter. She’d thrown her head back, loose tresses grazing the navy silk fabric constituting the back of her blouse and her eyes slipping closed, long, dark lashes fanning the tops of her cheeks. John hadn’t seen Y/n laugh like that since their split, and when it happened, and he realized he wasn’t the one making her rousing that reaction, in fact, he wasn’t even privy to the reason. That was how disconnected he was from her. Really, it should have been okay, it was what John thought he wanted. 

But instead, it hurt, like hell. Like someone had punched him in the gut then drove a knife through his chest.

After that evening, in the Continental's lobby, when she was checking out and he was checking in, every time John saw her, the knife turned; slow enough so he’d be sure to soak up every agonizing ounce of pain. He’d let Y/n go, and now, she was okay without him.

All while he was falling to pieces.

He’d never let her see though. 

That was why he was sat at the bar in the Continental’s lounge, fingers loosely closed around a half-finished, crystal glass of his favorite bourbon, stealing glances at her through the maze of patrons, as Y/n sat in a secluded booth, all by herself with a martini. John knew exactly how that martini was made; gin, always gin, never vodka, top shelf vermouth and a twirl of lemon peel instead of an olive. He recognized the dress she was wearing too; a short, black, velvet strapless one that hugged her curves and rode up her thighs when she sat. Her hair was held up in a high ponytail, strategic strands falling over her face and boasting her diamond earrings, she hardly ever wore her hair like that, but John always thought it looked nice when she did. But that night, Y/n looked better than nice, better than pretty or beautiful. She looked exceptionally stunning. Unattainably gorgeous. Light years better than he deserved. 

And she was perfectly fine.

No quiet tears or sunken eyes. No paled cheeks or quivering lips. No sniffles or fidgety posture. Instead, Y/n was okay. Sipping her drink without a care in the world, leaned back into the leather upholstered cushions with her legs crossed and her stoic gaze cast towards the uncaring sea of people. Occasionally, someone would stop by and she’d trade hushed words with them, sometimes chuckling quietly, other times just offering a soft little quirk of her deep red lips, waving briefly as they’d leave her to return to disturbed solitude. 

It was wrong, and utterly selfish, but John hated seeing Y/n like that. He hated that she was okay while he felt like he was dying inside. At least if she wasn’t, he could somehow summon up the courage to walk up to and admit defeat. Say the words that would ensure things went back to the way they were, “I’m sorry, I made a mistake.” But surely, he couldn’t do that when Y/n didn’t even seem to miss him. As far as he could tell, the only person John had hurt was himself. 

What was her secret for getting over him so quickly? 

Didn’t she ever love him?

When, eventually a man, younger than him but still older than Y/n, one he didn’t know very well, stopped at her table, talking for a bit before sliding in next to her, John’s stolen glances turned into a full on stare. At times, when some unknowing person or the other would temporarily interrupt his sight, John would groan quietly, hoping they’d somehow get the message and move out of his way. He needed to see. She couldn’t be over him that quickly.

But Y/n was.

Because soon chatting turned into low whispers, with heads drawn in, and then, whispers turned into huddling, and huddling turned into his lips on her neck. John had kissed her neck, as she emitted hitched, low breaths and soft pleading moans. His lips had traveled down her neck, slow, with his hot breath fanning her pulse erotically, just the way she liked it. He’d tasted Y/n’s skin, felt its softness and sought haven in her warmth. Her fingers had threaded through his hair and her bare leg, brushing his thigh had awoken something in him that John hadn’t felt in years. It was never just sex, it more than that, all encompassing, protective, soothing, it was love. 

And John had thrown it away, just so he could see her tangled up with someone else in a low lit bar. Her was drink forgotten, her eyes screwed shut in pleasure as Y/n’s new companion let his hand paw at her waist. Maybe to John it looked more provocative than it was. Maybe he was just a jealous, sore loser who couldn’t stand seeing the woman he loved give herself to someone else.

Maybe he was just too weak to have kept her.

But ‘maybe’ didn’t matter. Because it was actually happening, she had actually moved on. And now, she was letting her new friend urge her out of the seat, taking his hand as they weaved through the masses. And for a split second, John thought that their eyes met, just as she was being gently pulled along. There was no emotion in her stare though, it was brief and cold, yet John was anything but grateful when he was wretched out by a hand on his arm and a voice interrupting his thoughts, “Hey you.”

It was Addy, old friend and flame. In another life, she might have been the one that got away, but by then, the title had gone to Y/n. “Hey,” he pretended to clear his throat with purpose, turning to face her.

“On the house,” Addy, winked, topping off John’s drink, watching with dilated pupils as he downed it in one go, setting the glass to the counter with a thump, drowned out by the edgy jazz, “You know,” she dragged her lower lip through her teeth seductively, “My shifts a couple minutes from being over, and it's been a while since we hung out.”

John suppressed a smirk, Addy was always one to get to the point. Unfortunately though, John didn’t think he could bring himself to enjoy the company of another that night, “I think I’m just going to turn in,” he slid off the bar stool, fishing through his pockets for a gold coin, “Goodnight Addy,” nodded, slipping it onto the marble top.

“I told you,” she gleamed, sliding it back towards John, “On the house,” that was when she got closer, leaning over, probably standing on her toes so their faces would be within a hair of each other’s, “And Y/n’s already over you, maybe you should let me help you get over her.”

The smell of her perfume, mixing with the heady fragrance of booze was enticingly intoxicating, and John found himself drawing towards Addy. Their lips brushed, though just barely, not really in a kiss, but with enough contact to ignite the first sparks of lust. Besides, maybe if he kept his eyes close and her mouth shut, he could probably fool himself into thinking it was Y/n. “How long?”

“I can be done now,” she tossed a dish towel to the bar top, walking towards the edge so she could slip out and join him on the other side, “Let’s go,” Addy offered her hand, and when John took it, he kept his lips sealed, knowing that the sooner he sunk into the fantasy, they better.

Nothing. That was what he’d offered in his unaffected gaze when their eyes locked. It was what he’d shown when Y/n started leaving the lounge with a man who’s name she hadn’t even registered. John Wick had acted like Y/n was nothing to him when he took Addy’s hand, ready to leave himself. 

Not that she should have been surprised. 

And the worst part? Y/n still couldn’t even bring herself to hate him. In fact, she was jealous, she wanted him to hurt, for his heart to bleed and match hers. She wanted him to sulk up to her and apologize, just so she could tell him to ‘fuck off,’ only to take him back in the end. She wanted something. Anything but more heartache. But that was all John seemed to give her.

Maybe she was better off without him after all.

As Y/n let her mystery man lead her to the elevator, all she could think of was what John was doing with Addy. Were they just going to drink, she knew they had a history, so maybe they were going to do more. It was a dry, hard pill to swallow; the thought of John with another woman, sharing what they once did. Him, touching Addy the way he touched her, kissing Addy the way he kissed her, making Addy feel the things John had made her feel. It wasn’t fair, Y/n wanted that, she wanted that and more. She wanted to love him. 

The cool reflective doors of the elevator opened with an automatic ding, leaving Y/n and her companion to stagger out and towards his room at the end of the hall. By the time he was shutting the door behind them, there was barely a moment to slap the light switch before he was pawing hungrily at the hem of her dress, carnal desire over taking his being. With her fingers tangled in his short shock of dark hair, Y/n fought to sink into the moment, pressing his face to her chest as he crouched lower. But even as she stumbled backwards into the made bed, letting him nearly fall on top of her, still fighting clumsily to get her dress off, Y/m couldn’t do it. It didn’t feel right.

He, whoever he was, didn’t feel right.

His touch floundered about her body, quite unlike the way John's just glided across her skin. His kisses were far too sloppy, noisily trailing down the column of her neck, and all in all, he was in too much of a hurry. On top of that, it was hard to get out of her head, to accept that for a while, that might be her new reality, hook-ups with random men in an attempt to fill a John shaped void, nights spent with someone who seemed woefully inexperienced in savoring pleasure, or worst yet, with the kind of man that didn’t really care too.  

“Stop,” Y/n managed, suddenly shoving him off, immediately standing and regaining composure. Before the very confused man could protest, or even try to convince Y/n to stay, she was cutting him off, “This isn’t gonna work,” she huffed, readjusting the top of her dress, making sure that everything was in its place, “I should go,” and without another word, she turned on her heel, brushing a couple escaped tears away from her lids. 

Sniffing, Y/n stumbled out of the suit, shutting the door behind her, simultaneously as someone else a few doors down did the same. Her breath shook quietly, and she kept her head down, more interested in getting back to her room than seeing who it was. But apparently, they couldn’t condone her unspoken plea to be left alone, and tentatively, they interrupted her walk back to the elevator,  “Are you okay?”

Gasping quietly, Y/n jumped as she looked up at him. John. Looking quite unlike they way he’s looked back at the bar. His eyes were dimmed and his lips agape with surprise. “I….” Y/n trailed off, unable to offer more. Seeing him like that, with the hurt clearly painted on his rugged, handsomely worn features wasn’t half as satisfying as she’d imagine it would be. All of a sudden, she didn’t want to yell, scream or cause a row. She didn’t want him to break down a cry either. Instead, she wanted to make it better, wanted to hold him, tell him that despite it all, she still loved him with her whole heart. “No,” she finally sighed, her breath hitching in a quiet, broken sob, “I’m not.”

John’s eyes shone with mirrored pain, and he sniffled quietly as he slipped his hands into his pockets and turned on his heel to slowly approach her. For the first time, he seemed to be letting his guard down, showing everything that he’d kept hidden from the world. John wasn’t fine, he wasn’t okay, and certainly wasn’t over Y/n. “Neither am I,” he shook his head, his gaze panning to his feet before once again meeting Y/n’s. “It was a mistake,” they were closer than a foot apart by then, and all Y/n wanted to do was melt into his arms.

“Do you miss me?” Her inquiry was sorrowful, and Y/n’s lips quivered. Inside, she knew that if his response anything opposing a ‘yes’ would completely shatter her.

“Everyday,” John stepped closer, reaching for her waist in a leap of faith He seemed almost surprised when Y/n didn’t recoil or shove him away, the way he thought he deserved, “I was wrong Y/n. I don’t want casual, I’m ready for more. But only if it's with you. Please don’t be over me,” he pleaded with soft urgency

“I’m not, bu I don’t want you to just say that just-”

“This isn’t like that,” John interrupted, his eyes begging her to believe him, “I miss you so much Y/n. And it kills me to think that you could be happy without me, because I don’t remember how to be happy without you. I love you, and I promise, I just need one more chance to prove that this is exactly what I want.”

“Promise?” And John’s answer wasn’t verbal. Instead, he kissed her, deep and true, as if it was the last thing he’d ever do. Their tears mixed and Y/n felt like she was sharing the sheds of her soul with John, like they were pouring themselves into each other with just that one kiss. Shared breaths, salty tears and muffled noises held them together, reminding them both that it was always meant to be like that. 

There was no one else she wanted to kiss, there never would be.

“I promise,” cupping her face, John kept their foreheads close, the tips of their noses touching, just before he went in for another kiss, letting the walls around them fade away as they melded in to each other.

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana   @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx​  @danceoftwowolves​

[let-it-raines]

How about showing them during and/or after the Yankee’s crappy 2020 season? As I’m not a Yankees fan (no, not even your lovely story could convert me!) I would enjoy some bad season angst with a heaping side of comfort coming from Emma. Thanks for considering! - jonirobinson64

Excuse me for having to send myself an ask. lol. Sometimes I do that when someone gives me a prompt not in my ask box. It helps me not forget it. Thanks @jonirobinson64 for being a sweetheart and a forever supporter of me! Here’s a little insight to that 2020 season ♥️ 

found on ao3 | here |

-/-

June 2020

“What the hell is wrong with all of you?” Al yells, throwing his clipboard down onto the ground. “Scarlet can’t hit, Fisher can’t catch a fucking ball because he’s too worried his wife is going to go into labor, and Jones has forgotten that the ball has to go over the plate! These are simple parts of the game! A five-year-old in Little League knows this!”

The locker room is silent except for the sound of uniforms being stripped off and feet shuffling across the floor. Al’s breathing is heavy, his chest heaving, and while Killian’s already showered and gone through his post-game routine, all he wants to do is go back out on the field and practice his pitches again.

That won’t screw up his shoulder or anything.

They’re losing a series against the Orioles.

They’ve owned the Orioles for his entire career. Hell, last year they barely lost a game to them. They were shutting them out and getting a ridiculous amount of runs, and now they can’t seem to string together two good plays against them.

Then again, that’s been happening against everyone.

This is the season from hell, and Killian has had some pretty shitty seasons before.

Coming down from the high of back-to-back World Series wins isn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world when they don’t even look like the same team they were when they won those Series.  

To be fair, King is gone. He’s with the Cardinals now, and Killian never thought he’d miss that asshole. He doesn’t. He treated Emma like shit, and Killian was constantly ready to knock his front teeth out, but he was a damn fine ball player.

He doesn’t want King back, not really, but a part of him thinks even Emma would take King being back in her vicinity if he could help them win a few more games.

“I’m in Maryland, and my wife is back in New York a week past her due date. I’m allowed to fucking worry,” Eric growls as he slams a t-shirt against the ground.

“You’re supposed to be focused on the ballgame and nothing else out there. We’re getting fucking embarrassed!”

“Hey,” Robin interrupts, standing from his locker and running his hand through his hair. “I get that we suck, Coach, and that you’re pissed. Trust me, we’re all pissed. But telling Eric he can’t worry about his wife and his kid is a load of shit.”

Al groans, placing his hands on his hips and looking up at the ceiling while his foot taps. He’s usually level-headed. He can get angry and upset, but it’s never been this bad. It’s never been him getting into their personal lives, and Killian can’t quite believe Rob is having to stand up and try to calm Al down.

What the hell is wrong with them?

“Do you guys know what’s being written about us? Half of it is articles about how we’re suddenly shitty at baseball and the other half of it is your personal lives. If I’m asked to give another statement on where Jones took his girlfriend to dinner or to comment on pictures of her in her bikini at the beach, I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.”

There’s a round of whistles across the locker room, and Killian really should have left as soon as his PT was over.

“Al,” he grits out, “I understand your frustration, but I suggest you hold your tongue. If there’s anyone in this room who should understand to tread carefully when talking about Emma, it’s you.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”“Aye, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to get pissed off. I hate more than anyone that the only news about his team is how much we suck and my personal life, but that’s how it is right now. We’re not as good as we have been, and the other teams are better. Doing what we’re doing obviously isn’t going to cut it, and I don’t think making us all hate each other is going to make it any better.”

“You’ve got balls saying that to Al,” Will mutters under his breath as his knee hits against Killian’s.

“I’ve been putting up with this shit with Emma for a year and a half from everyone else. I’m not going to hear it from our coach. My personal life is none of anyone’s damn business.”

“Just go to the hotels” Al finally sighs. “I don’t know what to do or how to fix this, and apparently, none of you are going to let me yell at you tonight. Be at practice at ten. If you’re late, you’re running the field.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Will salutes only to get stared down by half the locker room.

The team spirit is obviously alive and well tonight.

“Do you guys want to get dinner?” Will asks as they walk out of the clubhouse hours later, warm downs done and press conferences unfortunately suffered though. They’re walking down the hallway to get to the loading bays so they can take a car back to the hotel, and Killian has no interest in going out for dinner.

“I want to get back to the hotel and call Ariel,” Eric sighs. “I honestly keep expecting to get a call that she’s at the hospital and that I need to be at the airport.”

“We’ll be home tomorrow,” Robin assures him. “If I know Ariel, she won’t have that kid before you get home.”

“As the only other man here with a child, I feel like you should know that’s not how it works.”

Robin chuckles. “You can hope.”

“I’m going to order in for dinner,” Killian says. “You can come to my room and do the same if you want.”Will actually snorts at that. “And spend more time with you when you’ve lost a game and someone has talked shit about your girlfriend? That’s like asking to be tortured.”

“Shut it, Scarlet.”“I only speak the truth.”“I think we all need a break from each other.” Robin opens up the door of the van that’s waiting on them. “After we share this ride.”

-/-

Emma’s on her laptop when he gets back to the hotel room. She’s already changed out of what she was wearing earlier, is in her pajamas, and has her makeup wiped off, and he knows better than to bother her while she’s writing her article on the game to the network. They’ve got her running circles and jumping through hoops this season as some kind of sick test to make sure she can handle being promoted to a regular in-booth commentator.

It’s fucking ridiculous. Of course she can handle it. She doesn’t need to run up extra reports and think pieces on top of working on the field and traveling full time with the team in order to prove herself when she’s already proven herself time and time again.

She’s doing more work now than she would ever do once she’s up in that booth.

This is not how this season was supposed to go. It was supposed to be better than this.

It was supposed to be better than the both of them running themselves far past their personal limits and still coming up short.

At least his arm doesn’t hurt.

Killian doesn’t believe in jinxes and superstitions, but thoughts like that should probably stay far away from his mind if he doesn’t want to get injured again. With all of the people watching him like a hawk, it’s not like he’d be able to hide it even if he wanted to.

He’s definitely learned that lesson.

Quietly, he puts his bag down on the table in the entryway of the room and goes into the bathroom in order to brush his teeth and wash his face. He wants to shave, but he didn’t bring his razor. Dammit. That’s all he really wants to do right now, to have some kind of control over something, anything.

His phone buzzes in his back pocket, and he pulls it out.

Liam: Addison wants you to know that she is not mad at you for losing.

Killian: So she’s lying to me now?

Liam: Oh, absolutely. She’s genuinely upset. We’ve got to get her a new hobby.

Killian: I think she’d be brilliant at soccer. I’m surprised she’s not already in a league.

Liam: We’ve got her signed up for the fall league.

Liam: You okay?

Killian huffs and turns the water in the sink off after splashing his face one more time.

Killian: I’m fine. Tired. Pissed off at how I played.

Liam: Fine and pissed off aren’t exactly the same.

Killian: I’m pissed off BUT fine.

Killian: It’s late. You should go to bed. I’ll call tomorrow before we fly home.

Liam: Don’t beat yourself up about any of it. I love you. Addy loves you, too.

Killian: I love you both.

Sighing, Killian opens the bathroom door and walks back into the hotel room, tugging his t-shirt off, tossing his phone onto the couch, and then grabbing the room service menu before laying down on the bed next to Emma.

“Have you eaten dinner, Swan?”

“I had a salad earlier.”

“You mean the salad we had at lunch?”

Emma’s brows furrow together, and she keeps on typing. “I’m not really sure. I had a salad at some point. I’m fine.”

Killian groans and reads through the menu before picking up the hotel phone and calling down for a plate of their grilled chicken rice with a side of steamed vegetables. It’s not at all what he wants, and when he orders to basket of fries that he tells himself is for Emma, he knows that he’ll end up eating them as well. It’s late, though, and the kitchen isn’t staffed as much as it usually is, so the man on the other end of the line tells him it could be anywhere between thirty minutes and an hour.

If he hadn’t eaten a little in the locker room, he’d probably bitch and moan over the wait team. He gets the wait. He does. He’s not about to complain over people trying their best, but damn what he would give for something other than a package of crackers to eat.

Emma keeps working, and Killian turns on the TV, putting it on mute as he flips through the channels. There are baseball games on what seems like every other one, but he eventually settles on some action movie he doesn’t know the name of and watches it in silence to the sound of Emma’s fingers clicking against the keyboard.

What a banner day.

Suddenly, Emma’s laptop clicks closed, and she places it on the foot of the bed before turning to him and placing her knees on either side of his thighs while her nails curl into his biceps and her lips move over the side of his neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses.

Fuck, that feels fantastic.

She’s like magic when she’s like this, her lips heaven and the feel of her pressing down on top of him something even better, and Killian wraps his arm around her back as his hand sneaks up underneath her tank top while the other presses into the back of her thigh. He bloody loves when she sleeps in the pajama shorts like this, the material barely covering her skin.

Her mouth is hot against his neck and flames flicker down his spine as Emma keeps working his skin, nibbling before soothing the spots with her tongue, and when he palms her ass through her shorts, she rolls her hips into his like she’s trying to kill him with how good that feels.

“Are you trying to kill me, love?” he rasps as her tongue circles around the shell of his ear. He can feel his cock twitching in his sweatpants, and while he’s doing his best to ignore it, he can’t help but jut his hips up into hers for some friction.

“No.”

“Something damn near close then.”

Emma laughs into his ear as she rolls her hips over his, and she really is trying to kill him. He’s fine with letting her succeed tonight.

“Take off your pants, twenty-nine.”

“Well, when you say it like that…”

Emma pulls back from him and looks into his eyes. “What? Do you not want to?”

He juts his hips up into hers again. God, that friction feels good, but it’s not enough. “I very obviously want to.”

“Then what is it?”“It’s nothing.”“What? Are you too tired? Was the adrenaline of the game too much? Because I was fully ready to have some hate sex.”

“Darling, I don’t believe it’s hate sex unless you hate each other. I think it’d just be pissed off at the trajectory of the season, ESPN executives for making you jump through hoops they’d never make any man do, and the fucking Orioles.”

“That is too long. No one would ever say that.”

“Then pissed off sex.”

“Okay,” Emma sighs, leaning back even as her fingers curl into his chest hair. She’s always doing that, and he can’t say he minds. His right hand leaves her hip and moves to grab onto the chain around her neck, the cool metal soothing. “Then I was ready to have some pissed off sex.”

Killian chuckles and leans his head back against the headboard and closes his eyes. “Can we do a raincheck on that until we’re home and in our own bed? I’m exhausted. I didn’t realize I was exhausted until you said it, but I am.”

The exhaustion hit him like a ton of bricks, and even if he knows Emma would be fine doing all of the work this time, it’s not what he wants. It’s not going to be what she wants either.

“Rain check it is,” Emma promises. He doesn’t know she’s leaned forward until her mouth moves over his. “I hope we still have something to be pissed off about.”

“If this season keeps going how it’s going and if we keep ending up on every newsstand in New York, I think we’ll have something to be pissed off about.”

Emma pulls back, and her brows furrow. “Hey, don’t do that.”

His hand reaches up to tuck her hair behind her hair, thumb lingering against her cheek. “Do what?”

“You know exactly what you’re doing. You lost, and you’re about to go into some kind of downward spiral over it.”

“We’re horrible, Swan.”

“Yeah, you are.”

His thumb presses into her cheek while her hands fall away from his chest and land in her lap. “That makes me feel great.”

“If I said you weren’t horrible, you’d be pissed at me for lying.”

“You know what – ” Killian snaps his mouth shut, leaning back against the headboard and taking a deep breath. Emma is still on his lap, and he chokes back the hiss when she shifts. “I’m not going to fight with you on this, love. It’s not worth it.”

There’s fire in Emma’s eyes and he’s sure a fight on the tip of her tongue, but she leans back and shifts until she’s on her side of the bed again, pulling her knees to her chest.

“I’m sorry today was rough, twenty-nine. I’m sorry that the season sucks. Like, big time. I’m sorry that our life, ours, is something people think is their business. None of it is fair, and as much as I wish you were out there winning, it doesn’t make a difference in who you are. I’m not going to stop loving you just because you’re having a hard time.”

Killian huffs and lazily reaches forward until his fingers are intertwining with Emma’s. “Are you sure? You’ve only been dating me as a champion. This whole thing might go to hell now.”

“Don’t even say that.”“Why not? All I really want to do is impress you. Indefinitely or something. This isn’t very impressive.”

He’s pitying himself. He knows that. He wants to stop, but at the back of his mind, there are all those awful thoughts about not being good enough: for the team, for himself, for Emma.

God, he thinks all the time how he’s not good enough for her.

“If you think I’m only with you because you’re good at baseball, that’s the stupidest thought you’ve ever had. And I know how smart you are, twenty-nine. I’ve seen your engineering books. That’s not a degree for dummies.”

Killian chuckles. “To be fair, I don’t know what’s happening in those books either.”

“Liar.” Her hand squeezes his. “If you want to be pissed off, be pissed off. It’ll apparently come in hand for our sex life later. I’m just saying that the season sucking doesn’t mean you suck. As a ballplayer or human or boyfriend or whatever.”

“Those are some eloquent words there, Swan.”

Her eyes roll, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. He can feel one tugging at his lips too.

“I lied when I said I wasn’t hungry earlier. I think it’s affecting how my brain works.”

“I ordered you fries. There weren’t any onion rings.”

“I heard. Should I go find a vending machine and get some more junk food? I know you don’t really want to eat your food.”

“Trying to watch my figure, love.”

“Shut up,” Emma groans, leaning forward and quickly kissing his cheek. “Where’s your wallet? I’m going to go get us snacks.”

“Why do you need my wallet for that?”

“Because I don’t have cash on me.”

“It’s in the safe.”

Emma nods and rolls off the bed, adjusting her shorts from where they’d risen to expose half of her ass. “Eating vending machine food in a hotel room is pretty much a tradition for us, you know?”

“So is having sex after you’ve seen me in a pool.”“That happened one time. That’s not enough for it to be a tradition.”

He moves his brows up and down. “We could make it happen more times.”

“Go take a shower, twenty-nine. A cold one. Room service is going to be here soon, and you haven’t calmed down from the almost hate sex.”

“Pissed off sex.”

She shakes her head, just slightly.

How the hell did he end up with someone like her?

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Get me some barbecue chips if they have them, yeah?”

Emma holds his wallet between her fingers. “Was already planning on it. I hear the guy paying makes damn good money even though his baseball team sucks.”

Killian throws a pillow at Emma, but she dodges it before slipping out of the room, the door clicking closed behind her.

Love of his life, that woman.

One day he’ll tell her so with something other than words.

-/-

-/-

Tag list: @bluewildcatfanatic @killianswannn @dorisquinn​ @onepunintendid​ @authorarsinoe​ @stunningswan​ @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury​ @superchocovian​ @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog​ @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings​ @carpedzem​ @tornadoamy​ ​

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 29

Warnings: none really

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

The water is scalding. Causing her to wince; ripping the breath from her lungs as she steps underneath it. Accepting it’s brutality and punishment in an attempt to exchange physical pain for internal. She bites down on her bottom lip hard enough to break skin and draw blood; holds her breath and bouncing up and down on her heels as she suffers through the temporary agony in the hopes of gaining long term relief.

Her heart aches. A pain far more intense than anything she’s ever experienced in her thirty-five years.  An emptiness has settled deep inside of her; holes that had long ago been patched back together threatening to burst wide open. The anguish is unbearable. The start of what feels like prolonged state of mourning that comes with expected yet still devastating loss. It’s a painful and bitter pill to swallow when you’ve the end of your rope and no matter how desperately you try to hold on, you still wind up torn apart and broken in the end.

Tyler’s confession had blindsided her; knocking the wind clear out of her and sending both her emotions and her reality into a violent tailspin. She’d a setback when it came to alcohol. After all, he’d fallen off the wagon three times in the last six and half years and the last time she’d relegated herself to the fact that it would always be part of their life. Comforting herself with thoughts of how at least he wasn’t a mean or a violent drunk. Loud and obnoxious, and often overly emotional and sensitive and sometimes even absentminded and neglectful, but never intimidating or aggressive. That she would never tolerate.

But he hadn’t had Oxy in his system since the rehab stint after Dhaka, and it had been successfully flushed from his system and he’d never gone back to it again. It’d been a tough battle, but he’d come out happier and healthier without the added weight of dependency. For almost seven years he’d never given the drug a second thought and had dedicated himself to living a cleaner life; hating the mere thought of taking anything stronger than over the counter pain medication despite being in near constant agony.

Things had been better. Even with alcohol still in the picture. Once he was off the Oxy he became calmer. More content. Those jagged and rough edges softening. But then the Dhaka nightmares began and was closely followed by depression and PTSD; powerful and unrelenting demons that had dragged him into the very depths of hell. Convincing him that he -and everyone around him- would be better off if he had died that day on the bridge. There’d been no reasoning with him while in that state, and it had taken two legitimate suicide attempts and as many psych ward stays to convince him to get the help that he so desperately needed.

But they’d made it through. Somehow emerging from the darkest and most dreadful times -and a six month separation- stronger than ever. Surviving things that would have torn most couples apart. And even though the battle with alcohol had remained, not once had he ever mentioned needing or wanting or Oxy. Even while rehabbing from painful knee and shoulder replacement surgeries. He’d just battled through it; never complaining, barely wincing or grimacing even on the worst days. He’d accepted it as his new natural state of life; permanent punishment for the bad decisions and the horrible things he’d had to resort to just to stay alive. A life of physical suffering in exchange for having a life at all.

It had been hard. Hearing the confession as it tumbled from lips. The stark and brutal realization of just how lost and troubled he actually is; seeing the desperation and vulnerability...and even shame and disgust...in his eyes and all over his face. It’s difficult; loving someone that much and having to watch them suffer. Knowing that there’s more you can do for them and feeling completely and utterly helpless. There’s no words that can make things better or take all the pain -both physical and mental- away.

She’d known the moment he’d said it that things were out of her reach. That HE was out of her reach. That there was nothing more she could say or do that would make even the slightest bit of difference. That if things keep spiralling out of control and the want and need became too powerful to control, he would fall back into old habits. And that will be the final straw. No more chances. No more thinking that love alone is enough to save someone. It should be -and it would be- in a perfect world. But there’s only so much she can take; only so much fight left in her. And if he gets to that point, she will have lost him. With no chance of ever getting him back.

The tears come now. Spilling down her face and joined by painful, choking sobs that cause her entire body to quake. Tears of anger and frustration; profound sadness that accompanies an impending loss. The ache in her heart and the tightness in her chest increasing, and she places both palms and her forehead against cool, smooth tile and closes her eyes. Standing directly under the steaming, pounding water until there’s no more tears to shed and the sobs settle into nothing more than soft, pitiful whimpers.

You can do this, she tells herself, even though the emptiness and the tremendous sense of loss say otherwise.  You’ve gotten through worse. You got through Dhaka. You got through what happened on the bridge. You can get through this too.

She thinks of those minutes and hours immediately afterwards; sitting in a packed OR waiting room still clad in the same clothes and Doc Marten boots she’d been wearing on the bridge. Covered in dirt and grime and blood. So much blood. Some of it still bright and damp and smelling fresh, other areas thick and dark and stiffening the fabric of her t-shirt. It had caked and stained her hands and gathered under her nails; travelled all the way to her elbows and was streaked across her face and forehead and had even settled in her hair. She’d been alone. No Nik. No Yaz. No team members whose names she didn’t remember. And the shock of just what had happened -the things she’d seen and the things she’d done- had left her feeling numb. As if her body and mind were acting on their own accord and she had absolutely no control over them.

She can remember the looks on other peoples’ faces. Their outright horror and disgust at being confronted by so much blood,  their obvious concern for her fragile mental state, and genuine curiosity. Complete strangers had offered her drinks of water and juice and small snacks, yet couldn’t refrain from asking well meaning yet horribly invasive questions that she had no reasonable answers for. A nurse had brought her a pair of scrubs and socks to change into and had escorted her to a staff shower so she could clean herself up. And she remembers standing under the water watching as all the blood washed away; swirling around at her feet before disappearing down the drain.

She hadn’t been in the waiting area for ten minutes before the surgeon had come out with his first update; grim faced and stern, not an ounce of confidence in his eyes. Giving her the clear plastic bag packed with Tyler’s belongings; whatever could be salvaged, that was. Combat boots, cell phone, the watch and the bracelets he’d been wearing, the utility vest. She’d spent half an hour in a public washroom trying to scrub the latter clean; sobbing uncontrollably as she tried to ignore the rips and the tears and the bullet holes, using hand soap to attempt to get all of the blood and dirt out. Her stunned and foolish brain convincing her that it HAD to be done. After all, he might need it again.

Tightly screwing her eyes shut, she drops her chin to her chest; breathing slow and steady as she lets the steaming water pound against her body. And while soothing, it does nothing to wash away the vivid and haunting memories that will forever plague her mind.

****

She finds him on the couch; in nothing but a pair of tattered old sweats with his legs stretched out and his bare feet propped on the coffee table.  Eyes closed and breathing soft and steady; Addie lying high on his chest with her face against his neck, his cheek pressed against the side of her head and a protective hand on her back. It’s quite the sight; that big, strong man made up muscles and tattoos and scars with a tiny baby clad in a bubble gum pink sleeper. And she’s quiet and stealthy as she picks up his cell from where it sits on the coffee table, quickly snapping a picture before returning the phone to its resting place.

“What’cha doing?” It’s a groggy mumble, stirred awake when he feels her plucking the empty baby bottle from where he’d set in between his thighs.

“You fell asleep,” she explains, then places the bottle on the table. “Want me to take her? I can put her in her crib and you…”

“Leave her. She’s fine for now.”

With his free hand he reaches out and takes hold of her wrist, gently tugging her towards him and down onto the couch. Arm wrapping around her when she settles in tightly against him; legs tucked under her, head against his shoulder, a hand on his stomach.  

The familiarity of him is comforting; smooth skin against her cheek, the smell that clings to him, the warmth of the strong, solid body and the feel of those tight, well defined abdominal muscles under her fingertips as she slowly and methodically traces each one. Yet she can feel the tension in her shoulders and that aching -that dread- that lingers in the pit of her stomach. And she wonders if he’s fallen asleep again; if those demons and those monsters have finally agreed to let him rest.  Until she feels the brush of his thumb along her shoulder and then his body moving against hers as he carefully moves Addie from her resting place; laying her along his forearm with her head in the crook of his elbow, then tucking her tightly into him.

“Everything okay?” Tyler asks, and she nods. “You haven’t said much since we got home.”

That was eight hours ago, and since then they’ve maybe had five minutes of meaningful conversation. Despite putting on a good front with the smiles and the laughs, they’d been fabricated for the most part. She’d been quiet and distant. With him, with the kids, even with Salena who’d cover over to ‘hangout’ with Ovi and Kyle while they held down things on the homefront.

He’d thought things were okay; that his confession and the open and honest -and completely rational- talk afterwards had been a good start. That while it was going to be a long, hard road, at least they were beginning it on the right foot.  And he hates how weak it makes him feel; how the last seven years of fighting PTSD and depression and everything that comes with him have left him a neurotic, self conscious mess.

“There hasn’t been much to say,” she says, as her fingers continue their exploration of his abs and the small scars and imperfections that mar his stomach. “It’s been one thing after another since we got home.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It’s been a little...I don’t know…”

“Off the reservations?”

He chuckles. “That works.”

“And it annoyed me that there were so many goddamn people here. Ovi and Chloe and Kyle and Salena.  Like what the hell? We’re not a drop in centre or a shelter for wayward youth.”

“Well someone did have to watch the kids.”

“They should have left when we got back. They didn’t have to stick around. It’s like having four other kids. We have to entertain them and feed them and worry about keeping them happy. I’m their maid or their mother. Like, fuck off already.”

Tyler grins. “You’re feisty tonight.”

“It just pissed me off. I love having my brother visit and I like Salena and it’s nice to have a friend. But God. Go away. I like when it’s just us and the kids and I don’t have to worry about other people.”

“Fuck ‘em. I don’t worry about anyone else. Just my people. That’s all that I care about.”

“Is it wrong that I’m glad my brother is next door eating the neighbour’s ass like a cupcake?”

“When you say it that way? Yes. It is. It is wrong. In so many ways.”

“I mean, I know he just met her and despite what he says, I know it’s one of the main reasons he broke things off with Nik. But at least he’s out of my hair. I’ve got enough to deal with. I don’t need his bullshit on top of it.”

“You know what I think? I think we’re the last two people who should be talking about things happening too fast between him and Sabrina.”

“Salena,” she corrects. “I don’t know if you actually don’t remember her name, or if you just call her Sabrina just to be a dick.”

“It’s just to be a dick,” Tyler admits.

“You honestly don’t like her? It’s not just you being paranoid for no reason?”

“It’s not that I don’t like her. I just don’t trust her. And not in a paranoid or overprotective way. I’m working on being okay with the ‘you having friends’ thing. I’m good with that. There’s just something about her. Something that doesn’t sit right. And you've always said I have good instincts.”

“Very good instincts. Amazing instincts, actually.”

“Well they’re telling me that there’s something not right with her. That she’s not who she says she is. Who you think she is. Even Millie said she doesn’t trust her.”

“Well in all fairness, Millie is five and hates anyone who doesn’t put pineapple on pizza or who eats steak cooked past medium rare.”

“I just want you to be careful. I’m not saying don’t talk to her or don’t hang out with her. ‘Cause I get that you need friends. Just be careful around her. Don’t get too close, don’t say too much. That’s all I ask.”

“Okay,” she says, a smile on her face as she pats his stomach and kisses his shoulder. “See how agreeable I can be when you don’t freak out and we actually talk about things?”

“You are less of a bitch.”

“You know, you start out so well and you always manage to end so badly.”

“Kind of like everything in my life.”

She frowns. “That is not what I meant and you know it. I meant it as a joke. I was teasing you.” She tousles his hair, then runs her fingers through it. Loving the messy ‘bed head’ look it so easily takes on. “Are you alright? You’re not…?”

“Thinking about getting drunk and high? No. I’m not. I honestly haven’t thought about that since this morning. I don’t think about it all the time. It’s not every day, twenty four hours a day. Just when shit happens.”

“Like Ovi wanting help,” she concludes. “And your dad. And the nightmares.”

Tyler nods.

“I mean I get it. I do. I don’t know exactly what you’re feeling or what’s going on in your head, but I know you struggle. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate and a lot of things inside of you that are weighing you down. And I know the kind of life you’ve lived. The things you’ve seen and the things you’ve had to do. That would mess anyone up.”

It’s been a lifetime of turmoil. An abusive childhood, the death of his mother at a young age, a tumultuous marriage right out of high school, and the death of his first child. And he’d spent years devoting himself to the military and then to the job. Never taking time to truly rest and worry about himself.

“I don’t want you to think less of me,” he says. “I don't want you being disgusted or disappointed or…”

“Okay, first off,” Esme interjects. “I won't let you talk about yourself like that. Because none of that is true. I’m not disappointed or disgusted. Not in the slightest. And I could never think less of you. Because I know what kind of man you are and I know you’re strong and resilient and you’re loyal and protective and all those amazing things that make you, you. I mean, yeah, I won’t lie; there’s some things about you that drive me batshit insane.”

Tyler smirks.

“But it’s stupid shit like your snoring and how cold your feet are and you have the nerve to put them against me in bed. Or how you refuse to separate laundry before putting it in the machine and we’ve had to throw out so many clothes. Or how our last Christmas in Colorado you actually used a staple gun to put the lights on the house.”

“Don’t hold back baby,” he grins. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“But it’s dumb stuff like that. It’s the little things that drive me nuts but don’t make me love you any less. And I bet you have a whole list of things that drive you crazy when it comes to me.”

“It’s not actually a list, but…”

“But they’re still things that drive you nuts, right? Do they make you love me any less? Even the more serious things. Are they horrible enough to make you think less of me?”

“Of course not.”

“Well then why would I think that way about you? You’re not a terrible person because you’ve got issues. It’s not like you were a mean or an abusive drunk. That would have been a lot worse.”

“You would have totally kicked my ass if I ever got like that.”

“I would have given you the ass kicking of a lifetime. And then I would have taken your kids and left and I would have made sure you never found out. And that would have hurt you a lot more than anything physical I could have done.”

It’s the harsh and honest truth. As much as she wants him around, she would be more than capable of surviving without him. Of taking the kids and giving them a good life; somewhere safe and happy, away from the turmoil and heartache that booze and drugs would cause. And he wouldn’t blame her if she did leave. If that six month separation had taught him anything, it’s that she’s a hell of a lot stronger than anyone...even him...gives her credit for.

“If you go back to that...the booze...the meds...especially the meds..I can’t stay with you, Tyler. I can’t. Not because I don’t love you. Because I do. With everything I am and everything I have. But I love my children more and I won’t let them grow up like that. I refuse to let them go through that. I can live with going back to the job, but if you go back to the way you were when we met...if Oxy comes into this house or I find you’re sneaking off and doing it somewhere else...we’re done. I’ll walk out of here and I will take those kids and I won’t look back. And I know you don’t want that.”

“I don’t want that.”

Emotion chokes at him; tears filling his eyes as he looks down at the baby sleeping soundly against him. So tiny and so perfect. Everything that’s beautiful and good about the two of them existing in those six pounds and fifteen inches. Five times he’d experienced this; the joy and the profound love that comes with being a dad. And six months away from his kid had felt like a lifetime and had nearly destroyed him.

“You could survive without me,” she says. “But I know you wouldn’t survive long without them.”

“I don’t want to live without any of you,” he tells her. “We’re in this together. The second we found out about Millie and when we decided to get married. I don’t want to lose them and I don’t want to lose you either.”

“But you will. If you go back to the way you were.  The booze, the Oxy, the death wish. If you go back to that, we are not going to make it. Because I need to think about those kids first. I won’t let them grow up like that and you shouldn’t want them to either.”

“I don’t. I don’t want that. I don’t want to be that person again.”

“I can handle the job. If you decide you want to go back, I can accept it and we can live like that. That won’t kill us. But the rest will. And I don’t want that.  I don’t want to have to walk away. Because I love you. More than I ever thought I could love someone, especially after Mark. I’d rather live with you than without you.”

“Even with the snoring and the cold feet?” he teases.

“I just tell you to put on socks or to roll over and be quiet. Sometimes I plug your nose until you can't breathe and you wake up.”

“So you are homicidal.”

“I’m not trying to kill you. I’m trying to wake you up and to stop your snoring. Now if I covered your nose and your mouth, you might have a valid concern.”

Tyler smirks.

She tightens the hold on his hair, then presses his lips to his temple, followed by his ear, then down to his cheek. Lips warms and feathery as they travel along his jaw as she speaks. “You are the strongest person I know. That I’ve ever known. And I need you to fight this. Harder than you’ve ever fought anything else. Even after Dhaka. Because you have little humans that love you and adore you and would miss you so much. If you can’t do it for myself or for me, do it for them. I mean look at her…” she reaches across to him to run a palm over Addie’s head; the dark hair soft against her skin. “...look how beautiful she is. How perfect she is. You did this. You helped make this. Something so amazing. Why would you not want to fight?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I just don’t know I have anything left to fight it.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. You don’t give up. You’re not a quitter. Maybe before we met and you felt like you had nothing to lose and thought you deserved to die. But now you have everything to live for. So if you think I’m just going to sit back and let you...of all people...just give up, you have another thing coming. So stop,” she kisses his cheek. “Stop your shit and get it together and fight this thing. Promise me, Tyler. That you’re not going to give in to this.”

“I’m not going to give in,” he assures her. “I don’t want to lose you or my kids. That would kill me quicker than anything else ever could.”

“See , now THIS is when being ferociously stubborn is a good thing,” her face and voice seem brighter. “And isn’t she something else?” She traces the outer edge of Addie’s ear with her fingertip. “She’s just so tiny and so perfect and so amazing.”

“And beautiful,” he adds. “Just like her mom. We did good, yeah?”

“We did. Five times. It’s surreal, isn’t it? If you think about where you were seven years ago compared to now.”

“I don’t even want to think about where I was seven years go. I mean, other than when you walked into my place looking all cute and shit in your little shorts and your tank top.”

“I still can’t believe you remember what I was wearing. It’s not like it was anything spectacular. Not like Nik and her blouse cut down to her belly button nearly.”

“I never paid attention to what she was wearing. I was too busy looking at your ass in those shorts.”

She laughs. “You were honestly checking out my ass?”

“And other things,” he admits. “I’m a guy. I’m gonna look. Especially when fresh meat walks through the door.”

“Fresh meat? Really? That’s what you thought of me?”

“I don’t mean it in that way. I didn’t know who you were; I’d never seen you before. And you just show up out of the blue and walk in looking like that? Yeah, I checked you out.”

“You were very sly about it because I thought you hated me.”

“I didn’t hate you. I was nice to you.”

“That was nice? That was you being nice?”

“Okay, so maybe you annoyed me a little.”

“I annoyed you now?” she laughs. “How did I annoy you? I barely spoke to you or looked at you.”

“I didn’t like that Nik just showed up like that and brought someone with her. And it threw me off that you looked like you did and your ass looked like it did. And I hadn’t had sex in like four months, so…”

“That’s what it was! I annoyed you because you were sexually frustrated.”

“Pretty much,” Tyler nods.  “And you were wearing those shorts and that strap of your tank top kept falling down. I kept wanting to push it back up but Nik was there and that would have been really awkward if I’d kicked her out and made her wait while I banged you.”

“Awfully bold of you to assume I would have succumbed to your advances.”

A sly grin spreads across his face. “You so would have.”

“Actually, yeah. I would have,” she agrees, and then bursts out laughing and drops her forehead onto his shoulder. “You’re a bad influence! You and your blue eyes and your stupidly handsome face. For what it’s worth, you sort of annoyed me too.”

“How? I behaved myself.”

“You did. But I was annoyed at how ridiculously good looking you were. I’ve seen a lot of mercenaries, but I’d never seen one that looked like that.”

“So you were checking me out too.”

“Of course I was. I’m not blind. I know a good thing when I see it.”  She jumps off the couch and heads for the kitchen, returning with a carton of ice cream and two spoons. “I mean, you were all tall and big arms and broad shoulders and the pure definition of walking sex. And the voice…” she drops down beside him once more, handing him a spoon and pulling off the lid on the ice cream. “...that would have sealed the deal. If you had said drop your pants, I would have done it, no questions asked.”

“Talk about a wasted opportunity.”

“Well we made up for it over the course of five days,” she reasons. “I couldn’t give it up in the first ten minutes. I already looked like a big enough slut after knowing you for three days.”

“For the record, I never thought you were a slut.”

“That’s reassuring. I thought you were one, so…”

He frowns. “That’s not nice.”

“A guy doesn’t look like you and not get laid a lot. I’m just saying. And the things you knew how to do and how well you did them? Yeah. I knew you were a player.”

“Yeah? Well for someone who claims to have only been with three guys including me, you knew a little too much and were a little too willing to let me do certain things.”

“You’re going to complain about it seven years later? Really?”

“I’m not complaining. I’m just saying how it seemed.”

“Well you spend four years never having an orgasm other than the ones you give yourself, then let’s see how you feel when someone comes along and gives you multiple.  I have to say, you were on the ball that night.”

“I wanted you to keep coming back for more so I had to make a good first impression.”

“Oh believe me. You did. Because here I am, seven years later, looking like a hot mess after having five kids, and still putting out.”

“You’re beautiful. Always have been. Always will be.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Even after that many kids?”

He gives her a wink and leans in to kiss her. “Especially after that many kids.”

****

He groans as he stands; a grimace on his face and limp more pronounced as he carries Addie to her playpen; gently placing her inside and then tightly tucking a blanket around her.

“You okay?” Esme asks, as he returns to the couch, sitting down beside her once more. “You haven’t limped that bad in a long time.”

“I’m just stiff as hell,” he assures, then frowns as he reaches for one of the spoons. “Are you trying to make me fat?”

“You’re in a bulk. Ice cream will help you do that. Although I should be getting you fat. So then I don’t have to worry about all those thirsty teachers and playground moms.”

“You already don’t have to worry about them. Besides, you should be more concerned about the neighbor.”

Esme grins. “She thinks you’re a snack.”

“A snack? Fuck her. I’m the whole goddamn buffet.”

“Plus extra dessert. And those warm lemon smelling face cloths some places give you.”

Tyler grins. “I think that’s honestly the best and the weirdest compliment anyone has ever given me. Just so you know, you’re the whole dessert section of the buffet. Plus extra chocolate sauce and sprinkles.”

“You keep sweet talking me like that and I may just jump you right here.”

“Yeah? You promise?”

“We’ll see…” she singsongs, and they lapse into a companionable silence as they dig into the ice cream. Listening to Addie’s soft breathing and the sounds of the nocturnal wildlife that lingers on their property.

“So…” he breaks the silence. “...I was thinking.”

“Uh oh. I don’t know if I like the way you said that.”

“About what you said today. About the job. How you’d be okay with me going back.”

Both eyebrows arch as she regards him.

“I just want you to hear me out, okay? Just listen to what I have to say before saying anything back or freaking out on me. Can you do that?”

Esme nods.

“I have an idea. Actually, it was Ovi’s idea first but I tweaked it and made it make more sense. More beneficial. For me. For us. As a family.”

“Alright,” she swallows some ice cream and helps herself to another spoonful.

“What if I started my own operation? If I got my own group of guys together and made up a  team and got the word out that we’re available and looking for work? What if I was the boss. The Nik of things, so to speak.”

“Where would you find the guys?”

“It’s been almost seven years since Dhaka but my name still has a lot of pull. I let people know I’m looking for mercs, there won’t be a shortage of interested people. And I have a few that have been itching get back into it  and would jump at the chance.  Remember Nathan?”

“The marine from New Zealand?”

“He’s been wanting to break away from Nik for a while. Says she’s losing her touch and things are going to shit.  He’s put his name out there but has gotten a lot of interest.”

“What are his numbers like?”

“Decent. Got a good kill record. Not that that means everything when it comes to the job. But he hasn’t gotten seriously hurt, hasn’t gotten a client or a teammate killed, or royally fucked up.”

“So he’d be one to take a chance on.”

Tyler nods.

“Who else?”

“Just guys I’ve worked with before. That I know work hard and I can trust. Nik won’t be happy though.”

“Because you’re getting into it and getting a piece of that pie?”

“That and I’d be pinching some of her guys. And she knows if people know it’s my operation, we’ll start pulling all the big jobs. Word travels fast in the game and if surviving Dhaka did anything…”

“It boosted your reputation,” she concludes. “Big time. People will be shocked. If you decide to get back in it. Especially if you get back in as a boss. Is that really something you want to do? Or would you rather be right in it getting your own hands dirty?”

“I’d rather come home to my family. And there’s a way better chance of that if I just run things. I mean, I’d have to go where the jobs are, but I wouldn’t have to go out right out in the field. I’d just stay behind and run shit.”

“Hmm…” Esme taps the bowl of her spoon against her lips as she considers his word.

“What are you thinking?” Tyler asks. “And be honest. Don’t just say that you think I want to hear.”

“Well, first, I think it’s a huge step for you.”

“In a good way, or…”

“Of course in a good way. In a very good way. You have the experience. You know how you want things done and you know how you want guys to be. And you know they’ll work for you and that they’ll work well.”

“But…”

“Actually, there is no but. Not that I can think of. And I already told you that I was okay with you going back. Even when it was just the thought of you back out in the field. Could you run things from home? Until there’s a job and you have to go wherever?”

“Baby, in this day and age and with the technology out there? I could run things while taking a shit.”

“And it’s something you’d be happy with?”

“I think so. I think it would stop me from missing the job. I’d still be in life, but not actually in it. I would be a hell of a lot safer, that’s for sure.”

“I know I’d feel better about it,” she admits.

“It would take a bit. To get everything off the ground. I might need your help.”

Her eyes widen.

“Just with intel stuff and getting the word out. Nothing serious.”

“I am not getting involved like I did in Ireland.”

“I wouldn't want you to. Strictly behind the scenes. I promise.”

She sighs. “I suppose I could help with that. What’s in it for me? What kind of payout do I get?”

He grins. “My undying love and loyalty?”

“I already have that. Next.”

“Lots of dick?” he tries again.

“I already get that.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know then. What do you want?”

“I want to go away. Just the two of us. For a couple days. Three at the most.”

“Okay,” Tyler agrees. “Where?”

“I want to go to Kimberley.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Why the hell would you want to go there?”

“I want you to call Koen and tell him we want to stay at the shack. That we’ll pay for him to stay somewhere else for two or three days. I want to go hiking and I want to camp for a night at that gorge you told me about. Where you jumped off the cliff and scared the shit out of Rata.”

“That’s all you want?”

Esme nods.

“Really? You don’t want flowers or expensive jewellery or…”

“I don’t want those things. I want to go away. With you. Just the two of us. And that’s where I want to go. Can you make it happen?”

He gives a confident smile. “Consider it done.”

[callunavulgari]

YEAR-IN-BOOKS | 2020

So. Last year I read 112 books. The year before that I read 89. The year before that I read 39. This year I have (thus far) read 87 books out of my goal of 75 and will likely at least one or two more before the end of the year. So, click below if you want rambly book recs!

1. a book you loved?

This year has been rough. Like, I’m looking back at the books I read in January and am genuinely horrified to realize that I read them a scant twelve months ago when it feels like I read them at least three years ago. I’m glad I kept my limit lower this year, because enjoying anything this year has been harder than usual. I did read some decent books though, and I think the one I loved the most was Gideon the Ninth (and it’s sequel, Harrow the Ninth). They’re both fantastic books, and so deeply unexpected. Reading the first chapter or so of Gideon’s book is like getting whiplash. You go into it expecting angsty lady necromancers and get a crossdressing bee that secretes hallucinogenic substances and pulsates in time to the music in your head. Literally, Gideon’s dialogue is so out of left field that I spent half the book delightedly confused. But it is genuinely funny? And lesbian necromancers in space is just.. such an underutilized concept. Harrow’s book was a little harder - her head space is weird and everything is intentionally fucking with you so you really are confused for 90% of it, but I think the pay off was more than worth it.

2. a book you hated?

I was deeply, DEEPLY disappointed by The Secret Commonwealth. I finished it near the end of January and was just so fucking mad for days. Because the thing is, my expectations were not super high. I was excited for it, mostly because a grown up version of Lyra is something that I thought I would only ever experience in fanfiction. Now, I wish I’d only experienced her in fanfiction. Graphic attempted rape, retroactively confirming a rape happened in a previous book (one where it was implied that the victim got away in time), retroactively raping a character from the previous trilogy... like. I’m sorry. But fuck that noise. Fuck Philip Pullman. Fuck any douchebag asshole who thinks a woman has to be raped in order to write compelling fiction. I was riding the high of the new HBO series (which was good) and I guess I just... thought the author would have some goddamn integrity.

3. a book that made you cry?

We Are Okay was a really gorgeous, tender little book about grief that I read in one sitting in my bed when I really should have been sleeping. I read this book in March, when things only kind of hurt for me. When things were still largely okay. Before the bulk of covid hit my side of the world. Before self-isolation was an every day thing, not just something in books. Before Mal. Before getting covid. But ultimately, this was a book about healing. It aches, yes, but it also soothes.

4. a book that made you happy?

Both Beach Read and Written in the Stars made me pretty happy. Both romcoms done right, the first is a book about a romance writer falling in love with a thriller/mystery writer. They’re staying at neighboring beach houses and spend a summer getting themselves out of their comfort zones by challenging the other to write in the other person’s chosen genre. It’s sweet. It’s sexy. Over all, a really fun read, with enough depths to keep me engaged.

The second book is a meet-cute that involves astrology, fake dating, and lesbians. It’s written phenomenally well, and gave me a brief surge of happiness when I needed it most.

5. the best sequel?

Probably Harrow. The Dragon Republic is a great second choice though. Again, it’s a hard book, and I wouldn’t have been able to read it any later in the year than I did, because it is... not a happy book. But it is, in my opinion, a good one. And I am still excited about the third.

6. most anticipated release for the new year?

I am hoping to get the as of yet Untitled sequel to Ninth House in 2021. I am also hoping to actually be able to read The Rhythms of War in the new year, since I doubt I’ll get a chance in 2020. I’m looking forward to Mister Impossible, the second book in the Ronan trilogy by Maggie Stiefvater. I’m looking forward to the Hourglass Throne, which I think is coming in 2021? A Desolation Called Peace in March. The Thorn of Emberlain might actually be out in October, which will be wonderful it doesn’t get pushed back again. Rule of Wolves, the King of Scars Duology in the Grishaverse will also be March. One Last Stop by Casey McQuistion in May!!!!

7. favorite new author?

Defintely Tamsyn Muir. I will also be keeping an eye out for Alexandriua Bellefleur’s stuff...

8. favorite book to film adaptation?

Uh, can I say MDSZ/The Untamed without actually having read the original text? Well, I’ve read a few chapters, but damn.

9. the most surprising book?

Taproot. It’s this little graphic novel about a gardener who can see ghosts. And like. It still makes me warm to think about how tender it is.

10. the most interesting villain?

Does Loki: Where Mischief Lies count? Since Loki is technically a villain, even if he’s only villain adjacent in this book.

11. the best makeouts?

I... don’t know? I didn’t real read any of these books for makeouts. Not this year. 

12. a book that was super frustrating?

Boyfriend Material. It has great ratings! It has fake dating! But the story was very so-so for me. 

13. a book you texted about, and the text was IN CAPSLOCK?

I think I yelled at Nick a few times about how pissed I was at the Secret Commonwealth.

14. a book for the small children in your life?

The House in the Cerulean Sea is a book about a case worker at the department in charge of magical youth and he is charged with traveling to an island and making a very important decision about the children living there. It was adorable and I wish I’d had a book like it when I was young.

15. a book you learned from?

That is not the sort of book that I was reading in 2020.

16. a book you wouldn’t normally try?

I read a couple mysteries. Some were good. Most made me remember why I don’t read mysteries.

17. a book with something magical in it?

Call Down the Hawk, because all of Maggie’s books are at least a little bit magical. And while this definitely didn’t hit quite the same vibes that the Raven Cycle did, it was still very, very good.

18. the best clothes?

Gideon the Ninth and Harrow the Ninth have the best goth aesthetic I have ever seen in a book. Also, The Invisible Life of Addie Larue, because Addie’s clothes always sounded cute and comfortable.

19. the most well-rounded characters?

The City We Became had some fantastic characters. It was really interesting to see Jemisin get out of her typical fantasy setting and this novel was so out of this world. 

20. the best world-building?

Deeplight! It’s described as Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea meets Frankenstein and that is pretty accurate. Old gods that traversed the sea tore each other apart and now the world tries to get a hold of their corpses for amazing powers. It was really, really cool and probably the best book I could have chosen to read at the beach.

21. the worst world-building?

Eh. Most of the books I hated I didn’t keep reading this year.

22. a book with a good sidekick?

I really like all of the characters in the Tarot Sequence. There are some solid characters, even if there’s basically no women. Also Graceling.

23. the most insufferable narrator?

I was not a fan of The Mysterious Benedict Society, mostly because of the narrator. It was so boring and I quit halfway through.

24. a book you were excited to read for months beforehand?

Return of the Thief. Which... was still mostly good. But the ending felt lackluster for me. I may go back and reread the series and see if it feels more genuine after I’ve read them all together.

25. a book you picked up on a whim?

I literally picked up Written in the Stars because the cover was pretty and it looked like the romance was between two girls. And it did nooooot fail me.

26. a book that should be read in a foreign country?

Shrug emoji.

27. a book cassian andor would like?

I still don’t know what to make of this question.

28. a book gina linetti would like?

Shrug emoji.

29. your favorite cover art?

Gideon and Harrow, honestly. I also really liked Under the Udala Trees.

30. a book you read in translation?

I genuinely don’t know.

31. a book from another century?

Teeeeechnically The Great Hunt?

32. a book you reread?

I reread the Diviners and the Captive Prince series near the beginning of the year. They were still delightful.

33. a book you’re dying to talk about, and why?

Into the Drowning Deep was fucking amazing. I love Mira Grant’s work anyway and there’s this scene where a character pilots a submersible into the Marianas Trench and experiences your first face-to-face encounters with the sirens and like. AHHHHHHHHHH. It was so spooky and beautiful and just genuinely amazing.

TLDR; 2020 sucked, most books still couldn’t pierce through the depression, but there were a few bangers.

[deargoditsgrace]

2018 WRAPPED.

Just finished reading 2017′s recap and even though it’s only been a year, a lot has changed. In 2017 I grew a lot spiritually, which led me to the Philippines, struggled with relationships, but ended up finding someone even more amazing. My family dynamic got better, and we learned to trust each other and support one another in our struggles, and my friends remained my constant. I started 2018 with my friends who, in my opinion will be my friends to the end. We might not catch up regularly, but often enough to know the importance of the relationship. And I’m not just talking about Ekim and Eyang, but everyone else too. I also started and ended the year with Andrew, mi amore. Thinking back, the year felt so short, but a lot has happened in a year.

I’m definitely not the same person I was in 2017, and prior years. I’ve grown in ways I haven’t before and was tested in even harder ways. In terms of faith, I face planted, took an L, dove straight into the deep end, complained, and almost straight up gave up. It was hard. It’s hard not being in the home environment that cultivated your faith from the start. It’s hard to share with faith with people who haven’t been there for the worst times, and it’s hard to open up. It’s hard to meet people on the same wavelength and even then, its hard. It’s hard to stay faithful when the world drags you into the mud and gives you enough reasons to leave it behind. My faith suffered a lot this year. I forgot to trust God with everything..my life, my relationships. But in the silver lining of it all, I know he still showed me grace, because he allowed me to have grace for CCPC. He allowed me to give it a chance and find people, women who lift me up, who encourage me and one another to fight the good fight and remind me that I’m not doing this alone. I found a women’s ministry group that meets every Wednesday. It’s not the deepest bible study, but the women in the group make it worth going to every week. We’re all at different places in our lives, yet we still can all relate and pray for one another. And through it I was able to get closer to Esther mainly but also Shalom.

Our CG last year also ended in pieces. People, including myself, not caring anymore. But Andrew, my Andrew, stepped up and became a CG leader. Woah.. never did I think he’d be one so soon in our relationship, but it was pretty amazing to see his courage throughout it all. I know it stemmed from wanting to contribute since he’s been a member for a while now, but he’s really taken on a lot of responsibility and hasn’t complained about it once. Our CG is definitely something special and feels so different from last year. I feel like we all genuinely want to get to know each other and encourage one another, and I hope we continue to keep that energy going into the new year. I’m looking forward to all the adventures our CG will take, especially the ski trip coming up in a few weeks.

Moving on to Andrew and Relationships. It’s been a ride, for sure. Never in my life did I dream of dating someone so seriously .. just kidding I did, but I never really dreamed of the reality of it all. The first six months were challenging and a whirlwind. I started working, I was working the weirdest hours, which was tough on both me and Andrew, we went to a wedding, and we did cool things. But during it all, I don’t think i let myself be 100% with him knowing that he could leave at any moment, that his attraction for me could disappear at any moment and that it wouldn’t last. Thinking of those things kept me on my toes and didn’t let me fully enjoy the person I was with. I’m not sure when that all changed, but when my mental state changed, it felt like all the weight and pressure of just being in a relationship also completely disappeared. So now, I love it. I love spending time with Andrew, and probably enjoy his company more than he enjoys mine. We got a routine and I like it. But i really do love spending the time I do with him, and everything just feels right. We argue, but we always try to talk it out, we’re sensitive to each others’ feelings, and yeah... I honestly can’t wait for what the future holds, but I imagine it’s really bright.

For all the Esthers and I, we all got into relationships all around the same time. WEIRD. It’s weird to think that even happened but also weird to think that a couple years back we were all thinking about totally different guys. Like our boyfriends now weren’t even in the sphere. AT. ALL. But i think it worked out perfectly... wow. There were definitely some testing times in our relationship, but I’m kinda glad we all disappeared at the same time so that we can all reappear at the same time. I’m grateful and blessed to have friendships like these... and I really do hope to continue to foster them in any way that I can.

OH CRAP. A huge thing for me in 2018 was traveling. I got to travel a lot and to opposite ends of the earth. In March I got the opportunity to go to Singapore with Addie and Syd. Eat at some amazing places, and stay at even greater places. Honestly the food wasn’t as good as the hype, minus the soup dumplings, but now I gotta go to Taiwan for the real deal. But I got to travel to Malaysia, stay at an amazing hotel and an even better spa program. See the hustle of Singapore and how the crazy rich live, and even stay at Marina Bay Sands- the kind of hotel people shoot documentaries of. The experience was so rich and never in a million years would I have imagined going to a country like that so soon. But like something Andrew said was, well if you wanna go, just make it happen instead of making excuses for a while and never going.

In April I got to go to Chicago for Hannjoo’s wedding. The wedding was so sweet and even though I never met Dan before it was so palpable how much they loved each other and that was the best sight to see. I hope whenever I get married, the man I marry loves me as much as I hope to love him. But before and after the wedding we got the chance to explore Chicago and all it’s offerings. We tried the best burger I’ve ever eaten at Au Cheval, played ping pong at a ping pong bar, and even watched a movie. For a city, I was so pleasantly impressed by everything, the architecture, the history, and all the things that make it a “cool” city.

In May, I went to Vancouver/Whistler with my parents for my graduation trip. I finally grew up to realize hiking aint so bad, then we hiked the hardest and most exhausting hike ever. The snow hadn’t melted all the way so we walked half the trail on snow. And it wasn’t even just a layer, it was ... i don’t even know how to explain it, but it was rough. It was a lot of fun traveling with my parents though. We rented this sick Jeep, and it felt so right to be in it. ahhh the dream car for me and mom. But we didn’t even fight! Appa had to leave early but his flights kept getting canceled and/or delayed so me and mom stayed in our AirBNB to make sure he got home okay. Even with that, the whole trip was really nice and relaxing. But I never knew there were so many rich Asians living in Vancouver.

In late September, Andrew and I went to Colorado for his birthday. The day we got there we drove up to Boulder so that we could hike the Rockies in the morning and dayumm that was tough. The altitude got us, but the views were incredible. All I remember is that I couldn’t stop talking about how beautiful everything was. And it’s not like I haven’t seen mountains before, but the mountains there weren’t like the mountains back home. The rocks are grander and because of the altitude there aren’t a lot of trees. We also fought, and made up. I also realized we are compatible traveling buddies, and we ate the best croissants in the whole wide world.

That’s it on travel, but I’m not done cause the FOOD of 2018 was pretty epic. We tried our first Michelin star at Rose’s Luxury, our second in Chicago, and our fifth back home at the Inn. I ate more than this, but it was a pretty epic year in terms of the Michelin guide. Now, back to eating 2 for $5 at McDonalds, and scraping our monies together.

I ALSO GOT MY FIRST OFFICIAL JOB. like it’s legit and I get paid via direct deposit every Saturday. C R A Z Y. The job itself is in the industry I wanted, and I honestly got everything I thought I wanted, but a couple months in, I can kinda tell this isn’t where I see myself in the long run.

So now, onto my 2019 dreams, wishes, desires....

1. I hope to CONTINUE on my faith walk with Andrew. We had some ups and even some downs, but all in all, God was gracious to us. I hope that we can reflect on his faithfulness going into the new year in hopes to seek Him even more than we did in 2018. In addition, I hope to create bonds within our own church to help us grow and mature in every way that we can, that we can lean on our brothers and sisters so that if we falter we have people to continue to encourage us to keep fighting.

2. I want to take this real estate situation seriously. I’m not sure if I’m even meant to be a realtor, but I should try.

3. I want to be a better daughter to my parents. I want to honor them better, think of them more, and care for them in ways i haven’t been able to

4. In the same way I want to be a better sister to my friends, especially the Esthers but also to everyone in my life.

5. I want to live in the present but be aware of what I do and the implications of it. I want to be more self reflective and more often. So through that I want to be more accountable for my actions and change if i need to.

6. Grow. In any way. aka go to the gym, create discipline.

2019, I don’t know if you’ll be easy or challenging, but I hope this year is another good year for me. If not, I hope to really grow from these experiences.