Summary: Tyson has a way with words when it comes to bedtime stories
Requested: Yes
After a long day at work, the only thing that you wanted was to relax.
Being a mother of two was troubling enough, but when one of them was a toddler and the other was barely six months old, things were a bit tougher. Ever since you and Tyson got together, you had been honest about wanting to start a family- which he was all for. In his mind, he wanted at least three kids. With two already brought into the world, you were sure that he would be on his way for asking for. third in the next few months. But your body needed a break, which is why you had gone back to work a bit earlier than intended.
Tyson didn't want you working and reassured you several times that it wasn't necessary, but it gave you some space from not only him and the kids, but from the house. Being cooped up all day wasn't good for anyone. You worked at a small company in Denver but they often look to you to handle large projects which meant varying hours- after coming home from your day, you had clocked in a total of eleven hours just to ensure that things were going well.
Kicking your heels off at the door and tossing your jacket on the edge of the couch, you weren't surprised to find the living room empty, the sound of nhl rewind met your ears as you passed on through, heading directly to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of white wine- it was well earned.
Sipping from the crystal glass, you swished to woody flavour before swallowing, setting the glass down on the counter and making your way upstairs.
There was a trail of children's toys which you had learned to step around over the last few years, in the beginning it was a big change and Tyson had definitely fallen as a result of stepping on the kid's toys. As you reached the top of the staircase, you could hear your husband's voice whispering from down the hall, a soft grin splayed across your lips and you tip toed towards the kid's bedroom. It was your favourite sight at the end of a long day.
Tyson laying smushed into your kid's bed as he had his arms wrapped around them. The exhaustion in his eyes was evident, but the smile on his lips never faded.
Stories of princesses and princes fell from his lips, tales of monsters and heroes floating from the pages into the real world as he read to your older son Ashton. He was a cutie just like his father, wild brown curls and deep brown eyes, your daughter Sadie was asleep in her crib in the same room and you leaned against the doorway.
Once Tyson realized you were there, he glanced up and smiled- peeking down at your son, your husband found that he was asleep and carefully peeled himself away before tucking him in and kissing the top of his head. Walking out into the hall, he closed the door slightly before wrapping you up in a hug and kissing you softly.
"Ready for bed?" he asked, knowing just how long of a day you had.
With a short nod, you allowed him to lead you into the bedroom, taking your time as you undressed and let the stress from the day fall off your shoulders- tugging one of Tyson's shirts on, you paid no mind to the fact that you had abandoned your glass of wine downstairs. Wrapped up tightly in Tyson's arms as you laid under the sheets was the perfect way to end the night, as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear. His voice was like your own bedtime story, lulling you off to a peaceful sleep, it was almost as if he was reading to you just like he had done for the kids. It was perfect.
After that night, you had made a mental note to ask Tyson to read to you before bed. He was happy to oblige- every night once the kids went to sleep, the two of you would whisk away towards your bedroom just to get a couple chapters in. It never mattered what book you were reading or what the plot was.
Just the sound of Tyson's voice was enough to capture your attention and have you enthralled. He was a natural. Sometimes he gave the characters different voices which made you laugh, or if he was reading poetry, he put emphasis on the right words and main the simple passenger feel powerful.
It was funny how a few basic words upon a page could become something so meaningful depending on who read them. If Tyson had been in your English classes during high school and read to you, you were pretty sure that you would have done much better- or at the very least paid attention for longer than 5 minutes.
Tucked away in the blankets, you were happy to have Tyson- not only was he a great father, but he was the most tender lover you had ever been with. He was your life, and you were his, he was willing to do anything for you.
Even if that meant reading a few books to you before bed.