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celandeline · 2 months

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Okay this is my first time asking for a one shot so I hope this makes sense. Okay how about Farleigh and reader aren’t close friends but they are close like behind closed door (if you know what I mean) and like reader is sensitive. So one day Farleigh makes a joke about her without noticing she is there and like hurts her feelings. Like does that make sense obviously you can ignore this if you want. But you if you could write about the part where he is apologizing to her (smut will be great honestly), but you do whatever you want.

sorry this took so long - i promise i'm working through all the lovely asks you guys sent me, it's just taking a minute (school and shit, you know)

anyways!

I'm Sorry (In Not So Many Words)

Farleigh Start is a lot of things. At first glance, a stuck up bitch, but that’s only the first of many layers. He’s wicked smart when it comes to literary analysis, can write an argumentative essay like nobody’s business, and breezes through books faster than anybody else you know. He’s funny in a bitchy kind of way that’s distinctly American and not to everyone's taste, but definitely to yours. He’s fashionable to a fault - a bit of a diva, truly - but on more than one occasion has held your hair back so you can vomit vodka into the toilet. He always has enough weed or coke or acid tabs to share and always has extra room in his dorm for you to crash if you’re too high to get home. He’s mean and nice at the same time, and to most people, it’s confusing. But not to you.

To anyone else, you’re friends. Barely friends, even, connected only by the fact that Felix and Annabel are kind-of-sort-of a thing. You would have never have even met him if Annabel hadn’t dragged you into Felix’s circle, but you’re glad that you did. It’s fun, finding excuses to get each other alone, patting concealer over hickeys you’re not ‘supposed’ to have. And he’s nicer behind closed doors, when he’s not putting on a show for his cousin. You might even go as far as to say that he’s sweet, when it's the two of you alone. Of course, you’d never tell anyone - not that anyone would believe you, either.

So when you overhear Felix ask Farleigh if he’d ever consider going out with you to double date with him and Annabel and he laughs, an icicle shoots through your heart. It’s condescending, his laugh; it’s you’re kidding and I would never and you can’t be serious all at the same time, and it shoots through you like a bullet.

You don’t show up to Kings Arms even though Annabel texts you that that’s where everyone is, instead holing up in your room, the sound of Farleigh’s laughter banging around in your head. You don’t know what the truth is. Has he just been leading you on this whole time? Pretending to like you for… what? It can’t be sex, he can get that with other people, it can’t be drugs, he always supplies them, it can’t be money either… but the way he laughed, like it was so ludicrous that he would ever consider going on an actual date - a double date, even, which is really only half a date - with you. And to think that you liked him. Even just as a friend. Maybe you were wrong to think that his bitchiness was a front - maybe that’s just who he is. Maybe you were wrong to think that he was anything else. Maybe-

A gentle knock at your dorm door interrupts your spiraling, and you get up from your bed, padding across the room to look out the peephole, and find a familiar puff of curls. You’re opening the door before you can really think about if you want to see him right now, just out of habit.

Farleigh smiles at you, and breezes into your room like nothing’s wrong. “Did I leave my grinder in here?”

“I don’t know.” You say, closing the door and retreating back to your bed, watching him sort through the things on your desk, looking for the little blue grinder he keeps with the rest of his weed supplies. He sorts through your things like they’re his - and if you’re being honest, some of them are. Over the course of the semester, the line between what’s yours and what’s his has blurred significantly.

He turns around at the sound of your voice, peering down at you. “What’s wrong with you?” It’s teasing and sympathetic at the same time.

“Nothing.” You shrug. “I’m just not feeling well.”

He squints, moving from the desk to sit down on the bed next to you. “Uh huh.”

You’re really not in the mood for him right now. “Fuck off.” Why should you give him the time of day when he was so rude behind your back? You don’t really want to tell him off to his face - he’s quick as a whip in an argument, you’ve seen it firsthand - but you really, really, don’t want to see him right now.

He laughs, sharp and surprised. “Wow.” He says. “What?”

You roll your eyes. “What, what?” You mock him. You know you’re being childish, but you don’t really care - it was childish of him to laugh.

He rolls his eyes back at you. “What’s your problem?” He asks. “You were perfectly fine earlier, did I say something?”

“Obviously.” You say.

He waits for you to keep going, but you don’t. “You’re not going to tell me?”

“I heard you and Felix.” You snap. “Is the idea of actually going on a date with me in public, with other people, that fucking funny?”

His face shifts into something you don’t recognize. “I-”

“If you don’t want to do this anymore, you should just say so.” You keep going. “I thought that we were actually, I don’t know, friends, at least. Call me crazy but I felt like I actually knew you, and actually liked you.” You laugh. “I just-” You pause. “Nevermind. I guess I was stupid for thinking that it went both ways. I guess I shouldn’t have, I mean, I was watching you do this same shit to other people, I don’t know why I thought I would be different-”

“I wasn’t laughing at the idea of going out with you, I was laughing because there’s no way in hell I would ever go on a double date with Felix and Annabel. They’re fucking insufferable as is.” He interrupts you, placing a hand on your cheek and turning your face so that you’re looking at him. “Did you really think I was laughing at you?”

“I wouldn’t have been so pissed off if I didn’t think you were.” You say, not quite sure whether to believe him or not. “But-”

“I’ll take you out.” He says it casually, thumbing over your cheekbone. “Just us. We can go get dinner at that new place by the pubs. If you want.”

All of the anger and doubt that had been piling up on your chest is suddenly lifted. “That sounds great.”

“Cool.” He says, grinning, his hand still caressing the side of your face. His fingers trail down the side of your neck and then he’s cradling your head, pulling you closer to press his lips to yours - softly, gently. It’s an ‘I’m sorry’ in fewer words, but you know him well enough to read it as an apology.

You kiss him back, pouring your sorry back into him. You shouldn’t have been so quick to assume that he was laughing at you, you should have had more faith in the fact that companionship is a two way street - he seeks you out as much as you do him. It’s mutual, and in the heat of the moment, you had forgotten that. Sweeping your tongue into his mouth, you smile against his lips when he sighs into the kiss.

He pulls away so that his lips are just brushing yours. “Let me make it up to you?”

“You don’t have to.” You say, leaning back as he gently pushes you down on the mattress. “It was really my fault, I misunderstood-”

He noses down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake as your back hits the mattress. His curls tickle your skin as he works down your collarbone, rucking up your shirt so that he can kiss down your stomach, looking up at you through his lashes as he does. Butterflies swirl in your stomach as he kisses over the skin. “Farleigh-”

“What?” It’s teasing and playful as he sits back on his heels to thumb at the waistband of your pants. He drops his voice slightly. “Can I?”

You nod, and he dips his fingers below your waistband, gently pulling your pants down to your ankles. You kick them off the rest of the way as he leans back down over you, holding your eyes with his as he noses between your thighs. You suck in a breath as his tongue makes contact with your skin, and a bolt of pleasure shoots through you. Your tip your head back against the mattress as he starts to work his mouth over you. He knows how to use his tongue - there’s a reason there’s a rumor about him sucking teachers off - and he puts it to work right away, diving in like he’s hungry for it.

“Oh fuck-” You wind your fingers into his curls, tugging at the root. He moans into your skin, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. It’s good - it’s always good with him. That’s another thing about Farleigh - you can always trust him to actually get you off. Unlike most of the other guys you’ve been with.

But you feel a little guilty that he thinks he has to make it up to you, when you were the one who didn’t bother to ask him what he meant. If anything, you should be sucking him off. Tugging more insistently at his hair, you pull him up to latch your lips together in a kiss, licking yourself off his skin. He pants against your lips. “Why’d you stop me?”

“I want you to fuck me.” You say. That way it’s even, that way, you’re both getting to enjoy yourselves.

“Fuck. Okay.” He shucks his trousers and boxers down in one motion, kicking them down the bed. He’s already hard - but he usually is, after burying his head between your thighs - and you don’t hesitate to reach out and stroke him a few times, watching his face change into that almost pained look he gets when you fuck him.

You line him up, brushing his skin against yours, and watch as his eyelids drop to half mast as he pushes in. The stretch just borders on the edge of too much, but the groan he lets out distracts you from the sting. He always sounds so pretty when you’re like this, tangled up in the sheets of your too-small dorm room bed. You wind a hand into his hair and pull him down into the crook of your neck so that you can nip at his earlobe as he starts that slow, delicious grind you’ve come to associate with him.

He sinks his teeth into the skin of your neck, gently biting over a hickey that he left only a couple days before, refreshing the mark as he muffles a groan. You trail your lips down the shell of his ear until you find his neck again, doing the same. His hips stutter into yours as you suck at the tender skin of his neck, and you smile. Even though he’s on top, he’s still putty in your hands - or mouth, really.

“Farleigh.” You whisper against the mark you just left.

“Mm, what?” He nips at your collarbone.

“Switch with me.” You say. “Let me on top.”

He laughs, a breathy thing that borders on a whine. “I’m supposed to be making it up to you-”

“Which is why you should let me on top.” You say.

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you-”

“Please?”

His hips stutter against yours again, and that's how you know you’ve got him. He pulls you tight to his chest, wrapping his arms around you, and rolls across the mattress until he’s flat on his back and you’re straddling him without ever pulling out. Sitting up, you take in the sight of him, pupils blown wide, lips still slick with spit, a blooming mark peeking out from behind his ear, and plant your hands on his chest for leverage as you start to bounce.

He grins, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth to muffle the moan that forces its way out of his chest as you work yourself up and down his cock, his hands finding their place on your hips, fingers digging into your skin. You purposefully scratch your fingernails down his chest to watch him squirm, and he uses his grip on your hips to fuck up into you, to watch you falter. It’s a fun game that you play, who can make the other keen and whine more, made even more fun by the fact that more often than not, you win.

“Fuck, fuck-” Farleigh rasps, his grip tightening as he takes over your bouncing for you. You let him move you at his own pace, able to tell just by the way he whines that he’s close. He throws his head back and you watch his stomach tighten as he lets out a long groan. His whole body tenses, and then stills. You wait for his eyes to flutter open before you start bouncing again.

He gasps, a high pitched laugh leaving his lips. “Shit-”

“I’m almost there.” You say, watching his face as the coil tightens in your gut.

“Take your time.” He says, panting. “I’m good.”

He always says that, but you know it’s only a matter of time before it’s too much and he starts to grit his teeth. You know what it’s like - you’ve been on the other end before, already came but Farleigh’s still fucking, the drag growing more overstimulating the longer it goes on. So you bounce faster, focusing on the way he looks underneath you, debauched and panting, eyes half lidded as he watches you go up and down, sweat gathering in the hollow of his neck. God, he’s so beautiful.

“Ah-”

You shake apart on top of him, and he catches you as you slump down onto his chest, arms wrapping around your middle. You nose into the crook of his neck with a sigh, contentment washing over you. “‘M sorry.”

“For what?”

“Being stupid. Thinking you were laughing at me. Sulking about it.” You say, pressing a kiss to the warmth of his skin.

“‘M sorry for making you think I was laughing at you.” He says.

You sigh. “We’re good?”

“We’re good.” He says. You can hear the smile in his voice.

#farleigh start #farleigh start x reader #farleigh x reader #saltburn #saltburn x reader #farleigh start smut

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boywithpinkcarnation · 6 months

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tbh kinda wanting some jealous!jb like if someone is filtering w her gf OR ESPECIALLY IF IT WAS A ANOTHER GIRL AHH THE DRAMA 🕳️🕳️

alrighty... i am in no way a writer, so this is. going to be bullet point, blurb, word vomit, unedited chaos. additionally, this is gonna be so incredibly self indulgent and catered to me so i hope it suffices for u bug 💝

frankly posting this is very scary for a little tumblr baby like myself, but i feel a need to serve my community 🫡

they style of writing and tbh most headcannons/lore is coming straight from @gingerjolover their blog is lowkey bible and they are the sweetest pookie pie ever. luv u g fr <3 like seriously i recommend you go just read through their masterlist bc this will not compare (not trying to fish here, just being very real as someone who is a like fein for fics as a source of comfort, i fear this will not fully suffice)

rpf content under the cut (no hate if that's not ur jam, just ignore me!), minors dni!!!

refering to jb's parter in this as "gf" and sense i am a selfish selfish girl in this scenerio she is roughly jb's height/a little shorter bc i am and theres no shorter than julien rep ANYWHERE

personally, i see julien as lowkey so possessive in a cutie non toxic way... and sometimes that manifests in some cutie jeleousy that gf can not get enough of. i think it obviously would come out in like flirty enviornments like bars and parties where people are loosey goosey... but sometimes it's just like and about on a normal date. here's a little thought i cooked up for like a more domestic environment jealousy:

aquairum date

the date starts out very normal, classic boyfriend!julien activities are happening

she's making sure y'all are touching at all times. like she'll die if you guys are not physically connected

i'm talking arm around your shoulder, iron grip within intertwined hands, hand in ur jean pocket 16 candles style, hand on the small of your back,,,, but i think eventually (and her favorite, albeit a little awkward) she's hugging you from behind as you walk, almost hanging on you, head perfectly slotted on your shoulder kissing your head and neck at every stop to look at the pretty fish

"jay! look at this one" "real pretty princess" *kisses your head* (its over i can'tttt)

then maybe she leaves you to go get you like a bottle of water or a jacket from the car (idk something to make you more comfortable, very "can't have my baby thirsty/cold" vibes)

then of course, you are looking so cute and so gay, a girl approaches you

you are very focused on the fish bc they are truly just so pretty (can you tell i love fish?) and only look up when mystery girl nudges you

"omg i'm so sorry" "oh uh, you're good" "sorry, i have a bit of a habit for running into pretty girls"

and your're kinda caught off guard bc like... this is an aquarium??

"haha um thank you" "so what are you doing here all alone"

mystery girl is sooo fuck boy coded just go with it

"well um my girlfr-"

julien is back behind you, re koala latching twisting open the water bottle for you and handing it to you, GLARING at this girl

"sorry it took me a second princess, who's this?"

then her grip tightens pulling you even closer to her chest

mystery girl, bless her heart, replies "we just bumped into each other. i was just letting her know how beautiful she was"

oh jb did not like that

she reaches over grabs your jaw tilting your head to the side and back to look at her

"she is beautiful. my sweet girl" and kisses you DEEPLY

and ur blushing because you know jealous/protective/possesive!julien is in the room with us now and kind of giggle out of the kiss

"well then... i should be going, sorry again for running into you"

instead of letting you respond or responding herself jb keeps your face turned and starts kissing all over ur face as you giggle letting mystery girl to just shuffle away.

for the rest of the date she is SO overly affectionate

squeezing ur hips

keeping you so close

kissing your cheek and neck as you tell her about all the fish and animals

"really baby? that's so cool" "my little biologist" "ooo princess what about these?"

it's times like these julien wishes she wore lipstick to leave a mark on your face so everyone knows

she's probably taking you to the gift shop and buying you some random thing for fun because when she's jealous she doesn't take it out on you, she's secure with you and knows you aren't doing anything but being your pretty self

in fact it just makes her softer and more affectionate

when you finally let her drag you out she had you against the car kissing you lovingly and deeply and sets her forehead against yours

"i just love you so much. my sweet girl. my priincess"

"all yours j."

note from c: i hope this is at least semi ok? literally no editing or even proof reading, just love sick delusion.

#i am so in love with her #julien baker x reader #julien baker fanfic #julien baker x fem!reader #boygenius fanfic #boy with the pink carnation writes!

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minnielvr · 7 months

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future reference - hwang hyunjin

˚ ༘ pairing bf! hyunjin x fem reader

˚ ༘ genre hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

˚ ༘ wc 826

˚ ༘ warnings angst, reader is insecure

˚ ༘ note this shit was hella self indulgent!!

you had just gotten back home after yet another bad day and all you could do was look in the mirror, judging each part of your body. your brain pointing out all of your flaws. the acne on your skin, the frizzy, unbrushed hair sitting atop your head, and so many other things you just hated about yourself.

why does he even love you? what does he see in you thats so special? your boyfriend, hwang hyunjin, was practically sculpted by the greek gods. he's tall, handsome, strong, and oh so sweet. he's everything a woman could ever want on this planet. but for some reason, he chose you. and you did not know why.

of course, you knew he loved you. he says it every day. and if thats not enough, he buys you the most expensive jewelry and the most lavish clothes. not to mention the dates he takes you on, fancy 5-star restaurants all the time. still, you couldn't help but think, why?

with all of the voices in your brain you hadn't heard the door open and close, or the voice of hyunjin telling you he's home. when he walked up to your guys shared bedroom and saw you staring at yourself, he knew what was happening.

"hey sweetie, everything okay?" he asked right by your ear as he snaked his arms around your waist.

"y-yea everythings fine." you tried to get out of his hold, but he didn't let you.

he led you over to the bed and laid you on the bed, then he slipped in next to you. he pulled the covers over you two and grabbed your waist and turned you towards him.

"whats going on in that pretty little head of yours hm?" he asked.

"hyunjin its nothing really. just some stupid stuff." you tried to dismiss the subject.

"hey nothing that you feel is stupid. your feelings are valid okay?" he reminded you. "so, what're you thinkin' about?" he asked once again.

"i just felt..weird today. i started to wonder why you love me." you admitted.

the look on his face was a mixture of shock and sadness, but most of all guilt. how could he let you think like that? now he was angry at himself. had he not been doing enough to show you his love?

you could sense that hyunjin was about to start beating himself up for it, so before he could talk you decided to explain yourself.

"im not saying you don't do enough because you definitely do! i appreciate it really and i love you so much for that. but i cant help but think why me hyunjin? theres so many other girls who're better looking than me and don't act like this. i mean, all the girls in the idol industry are better than me so, why?" you had word vomit, you didn't mean to say that much, but it just came out. and now you could see tears in his eyes.

"y/n..i-i'm so sorry you feel this way. how did i never notice? god i'm such a bad boyfriend." he chuckled at himself while trying to wipe away the tears. and before you could say anything about how its not his fault he continued on.

"i want you because you're...y/n. you better than any girl out there. you're pretty and smart and super funny, but what i love most is that you have the biggest heart ever. more than any of girls in the idol industry. you're so kind to me y/n. you don't love me just for my looks or for my money, you love me for who i truly am. and thats the same reason i love you. you're perfect in my eyes." at this point there was several tears rolling down his cheeks, but neither of you cared.

"hyunjin..." you started at him sweetly and brought a hand to his cheek to wipe away the tears, ignoring your own. "god i love you so much," you chuckled, "what would i do without you?"

"no, what would i do without you, my y/n? my beautiful girl" he embraced you and held you close to his chest. "one day, im going to tell everyone in the world that you're the love of my life okay? im going to yell it out from the top of a building." he said.

you giggled. "one day, i want to be able to call you my husband." you looked up at him from his chest.

his eyes went wide, and so did his smile. "you mean that?"

"of course." you assured him.

"okay then, i know i dont have a ring or anything yet. but just for future reference, will you marry me?" he asked with a big grin.

"hyunjin!!!" you shoved your face back in his chest and laughed. then you looked back up at him.

"just for future reference, yes hyunjin, i will marry you."

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lexithwrites · 3 months

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lexith writes | @jegulus-microfic | 2nd feb - cheat 579 words

Regulus was numb. He didn’t think he could ever feel this bad, but he did. He felt everything. His stomach had dropped in the cafe when he told him, and he felt the need to vomit from that moment until now. He hadn’t, thankfully, but that sickening pool in his stomach hadn’t gone away. The thing was, Regulus was technically ‘the other man’ in the scenario and that somehow made it ten times worse.

He had been used to hurt someone else. He helped him cheat.

Regulus truly had no idea his boyfriend of almost a year had been using him in that way, he had seemed so perfect. Right from the start, bringing him flowers, taking him out to lavish restaurants, late night drives and staying over each other’s apartments. It had all been perfect. Guess nothing is perfect, though.

Regulus sniffled and wiped his eyes as he curled further under the blanket on his sofa, ice cream slowly melting on the floor next to him. He felt so disgusting. The poor woman…did she hate him too? Probably. At least he’d never see her. Hopefully.

Tate had been an American exchange student at their university and everyone had been enthralled with him the moment he showed up to class. Regulus especially. Tall, tanned, handsome, bright green eyes, funny, intelligent. He was just everything he had been looking for in a guy. And he had seemed so special to be picked by him.

But no, he had a fiance back home who he’d been with for nine years. Not only that, but she was pregnant. Fucking asshole.

Regulus swallowed at the memory of Tate telling him a month ago he was going home early to deal with ‘a family emergency’ and Regulus thought he had been distraught then. Nowhere near how he felt now. In reality, he had to go home for his wedding. His fucking wedding. Regulus had never felt so stupid in his life.

He jumped when he suddenly heard the front door and he hid himself under the blanket as James wandered down the hall. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, even if James was the nicest person he knew.

“Hey! I was thinking we could order—…Reggie?” James sounded so concerned. If only he knew.

“Not now, James.” He mumbled, but James didn’t seem to hear him because he came to crouch by the sofa and touch his shoulder. Regulus relaxed a little at that. He was always relaxed around James.

“What happened?”

“Tate…he, he left.” Regulus slowly poked his head out and came face to face with his roommate.

“Oh. I’m so sorry.” James genuinely did look very sorry for him. God.

“He was using me.” Regulus sniffled again. “He…back in America. He has a fiance. A fiance, James. Fucking imagine—” Regulus hiccuped out a sob and James’ mouth opened in shock. “I’m sorry.”

“No, god, don’t be sorry. Can I hug you?” It only made Regulus cry harder as he felt James curl around him, holding him so delicately. Regulus cried into James’ chest for almost an hour. He just let it all out, let everything he had been holding inside since that morning into the air. He hated Tate, he hated the situation, he hated himself for being tricked.

“You don’t have to talk about it now.” James whispered into Regulus’ hair. “But I’m here for you, Reggie. Always.” He held him a little tighter.

James was too good to him.

#jegulus microfic #the marauders #regulus black #james potter #jegulus #lexith writes #starchaser #sunseeker #james x regulus #regulus x james #james potter x regulus black #regulus black x james potter

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gojos-fr-bae · 3 days

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Liar pt.8

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Pairing: Gojo x fem!eader

Warnings: ANGSTTTT, but fluff at the end, cussing, drinking, grinding, NOT PROOFRED, i don't think there's anything else but as always lmk if there is.

Note- the italics is a flashback, actually, Satoru's entire section is a flashback from pt 7.

Word Count: 1.3K

A/N: VFYVKD. Guys, I think this might be the last part to this series😭😭😔😔 This has been a journey, thank you so much for everyone who has read this far, I truly and deeply appreciate every single one of you❤️❤️ I don't want it to endddd, so lmk if you would like me to keep writing for this au bc I would LOOVE to.

(Requests open)

Satoru

He was beginning to feel like he was slipping. He hadn’t had a glass since the shot he took before Kaito came to spend the night with him. Although it was now night and hours since his son had left, he naively thought that he had overcome his addiction since he hadn’t felt the urge to drink the whole time he was with Kaito.

Oh how wrong he was. He needed to get a drink and fast. He jumped into his car and began speeding to the nearest liquor store, only to find it with an eight-person line. He didn’t have the patience to wait that long and made his way to a bar. Any bar, honestly speaking, he had no idea where he even was.

He quickly went over, ordered, and chugged five tequila shots consecutively. Once the alcohol finally kicked in, he finally began to feel like himself again.

‘He was is disgusting. What kind of pathetic, sorry excuse of a man can’t survive without drowning himself in alcohol? How was he supposed to win you back and be a father for Kaito in such a state?’

These were the thoughts that ran rampant through his mind as he ordered a glass of whiskey, this time much more relaxed, seated on his stool, staring lifelessly into the endless abyss.

He was slowly sipping his drink when he felt a pair of hands clutch his shoulders before slowly gliding down his arms. Because of his inebriated state, he wasn’t able to sense them approaching, however, he just chose to ignore, only seeming to amuse the stranger. He slowly turned his seat to face them.

He was completely unamused when his eyes landed on a young woman clearly intent on getting into his pants. She clearly thought that she was the most beautiful girl in the room, therefore disarming a chance at him, but all he could think of was how ugly she looked in comparison to you. He just rolled his eyes, trying to go back to wallowing in self-pity. The lady just wouldn’t let up, turning around before she began grinding against him to the beat of the music. Foul, Satoru thought, feeling his patience run out.

“Get away from me you fucking slut,” he hissed, venom lacing his words as he placed his hand on her waist, trying to push her away when next thing he knows, a palm is making contact with his cheek, landing a harsh slap across his face. It was only then that he finally sensed your cursed energy. He quickly turned to face you, heart plummeting when he saw tears streaming through your face.

Shit, he can only imagine what this looked like to you. He tried to reach out to you but you just screamed at him and ran away from him.

He began to panic.

His heart was racing.

The world around him was spinning and despite how hard he tried, he couldn’t move a single inch. His vision was getting spotty and all he could hear was the ringing in his ears. He felt like he was going to vomit.

WHY! WHY HIM, WHY NOW! WHY COULDN’T HEJUST CONTROL HIMSELF AND STOP FUCKING DRINKING! He was absolutely torturing himself in his head as he spiraled.

He finally mustered the strength to run after you, leaving the unnamed girl where she stood, utterly confused.

He ran as fast as his legs could take him but you were nowhere to be found.

He leapt into his car and drove as fast as the vehicle could go. He was at Jujutsu tech in about five minutes but that was the longest five minutes of his entire life. He had to get to you. He needed to explain, he needed to make sure you know that it wasn't what it looked like.

Y/N

After crying your heart out on the sidewalk, you eventually made your way back to Jujutsu Tech. You texted Shoko and asked her if she could take care of Kaito for the rest of the night. You felt so guilty for staying away from him for two nights in a row but you just couldn’t bear to have him see you like this.

Just as you were about to close the dorm door behind you, you heard running and frantic breathing approach. You didn’t even bother trying to fight Gojo as he forced his way through the door you were trying to shut.

“Y/N p-please” he took a pause, slightly hunched over as he attempted to catch his breath, “I pro- I promise it wasn’t what you looked like!” he tried to explain, clearly panicked.

“What the fuck do you mean it’s not what it looked like, Gojo.” you questioned, putting emphasis on how you said his name. It felt like you were continuously stabbing him with a jagged dagger and he felt his knees getting weak but he couldn’t let you go, not now.

“My love please! I swear on my life it wasn’t! I wasn’t trying to do anything with her fuck! I don’t even know her name!” “Then what was it Gojo! She was grinding on you and you were FUCKING ENJOYING IT, DON’T YOU DARE LIE TO ME! I KNOW WHAT I SAW!!” You yelled your throat raw.

“I was trying to get her away from me! Please, believe me, I promise,” He dropped on his knees, reaching for your hands with his own shaking ones. Tears began to trickle down his face as his breathing grew heavy.

A small part of you wanted to believe it, but you were struggling. Deep down, you were telling yourself that he was telling the truth. But that was a part of you you hadn’t seen since Gojo was sealed. You survived this long without listening to it, so why start now?

“Gojo…let’s get a divorce-”

“NO! NO! BABY PLEASE! Don’t do this to me! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU MORE THAN LIFE, MORE THAN BREATHING, MORE THAN MYSELF MORE THAN ANYTHING! DON’T LEAVE ME-”

“Gojo you were gone for years! I LIVED WITHOUT A HUSBAND FOR YEARS! And from what it looks like, you CLEARLY didn’t feel my or Kaito’s absence! And from what it looks like, you’ve moved on-”

“BUT I HAVEN’T! I HAVEN’T! I GO TO BED HOLDING A PICTURE OF YOU CLOSE TO MY CHEST EVERY SINGLE NIGHT! I HAVE NEVER TAKEN OFF YOUR RING SINCE THE DAY I GOT BACK AND FOUND YOU GONE!” He cried, showing you your ring, which laid on his fingers. You would be lying if you said you didn’t notice it, but you just assumed that was due to how expensive it was. It would’ve been a waste to let it collect dust in a drawer.

“Y/N, you and out baby boy are the only fucking reason I wake up every day. You two are the light of my life and when I lost you. I was so distraught I even started drinking and you know better than anyone how much I hate that shit but it’s the only thing that takes my mind off of everything!”

You were now crying too, touched by what he was saying. You could see in his eyes that he meant every word and it shook you to your core.

You stayed anchored where you stood, sobbing now as Satoru got up off his knees and took you into his arms. Hugging you as tightly as he could without breaking your ribs.

You couldn't even move. You just stood there and cried with him, feeling the weight of everything that had transpired over the past couple of years wash away.

All that grief, suffering, and pain over the past few years was washing away in your tears.

You love him.

You had pushed down your feelings for him so deep that for a moment, you forgot they were even there. But you love him, and he you, and you knew that there was know way either of you could live without each other any longer.

You love him, and he loves you, and nothing was going to change that.

Not now, not ever.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

The End...?

@porridgesblog , @giannitaa , @c0pkiller , @havens-not-here, @starlightanyaaa

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sirgogington · 2 months

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My Word Vomit Response on the Shelby Situation

Main Situation: Last week Wilbur Soot from Lovejoy was accused of having been abusive towards his ex girlfriend Shelby. Shelby is a live streamer and last week she did a livestream about the signs of knowing if you are in an abusive relationship. She never stated his name, but from details given people started assuming it was about Wilbur Soot. A few days later Wilbur confirmed that it was him in an apology tweet on his Twitter account. The abuse had to do with painful biting, and manipulation.

I want to start off by saying I do believe Shelby's story. I don't think Wilbur is innocent, but I do believe this situation isn't as black and white as people are claiming it to be.

Former fans after hearing the story started unfollowing Wilbur and Lovejoy and saying what a terrible man that Wilbur is, and vowing to never listen to or view any of his content ever again. He's not just a terrible man, he has to be evil too. I may be optimistic but I do think most people can change for the better if they truly want to. There are exceptions, but I truly believe that Wilbur can. The internet wants to just label him as evil and not give him any room to do that. The new thing is "guilty until proven innocent" and that's super harmful as I will go into in a different post. The way people are spreading hate in a us/them mentality is not a mature way of viewing/handling this situation and does more harm than good. Especially when it comes to death threats and doxing which have been received by both sides.

Wilbur is someone who had a hard upbringing, and has brought up at different times his struggles with mental health. On screen or on stage you would never know this about him, because he has this mask of being confident, well spoken, and joyful. Through these details Wilbur has shared we know that touring took a lot out of him mentally and put him in a bad place, but that he was seeking therapy and is probably currently still seeing a therapist to try and get better. He's shared in the past that when he first blew up on the internet he used alcohol to cope because of how overwhelming it was that so many people were consuming his content. From Shelby's stream we also learned that his living space was dirty and unhygienic and that he would make excuses for it. The details for me paint the picture of a guy struggling badly with mental illness and having a hard time caring for himself and his home. Someone who can hardly take care of themselves should not have been in a relationship. This puts a lot on the other person. It's different if he were stable and then then his mental health crashed in the middle of a longer relationship, but not if your too mentally ill to begin with. I do deeply feel sorry that Shelby had to experience that, as it truly shouldn't have happened.

I went to school for psychology and know quite a bit about different types of mental illnesses. I am by no means diagnosing Wilbur, but I do think he shows signs of someone with Boderline Personality Disorder. Borderline Personality Disorder is an emotional disregulation disorder characterized by unstable mood, behavior, and relationships. People with BPD self sabotage and will frequently end up pushing people away because they don't think they're good enough for them. (In this case maybe he wanted to act so bad so she would leave him, which is very unhealthy). People with BPD also go through depressive episodes and can act impulsively. Without therapy it is extremely hard to cope with this condition but with therapy you can make great strides in changing. I think like most mental illnesses you are aware of the fact you don't like the way you're acting you just have a hard time controlling it. For instance for me growing up with anxiety I knew most of my fears were completely irrational but that didn't stop them from overtaking my life and still feeling anxious. Wilbur has written some really deep lyrics on his new solo album Mammalian Sighing Reflex and I feel like it reflects that he doesn't like the way he is and feels guilty about those he's harmed through it. Maybe I'm giving this man too much credit, but like I said I do believe most people are capable of changing for the better.

Shelby stated she did the livestream as a way to help protect other victims of domestic violence and Wilbur Soot himself. He might still be dangerous to the public, it's really hard to know. I know after my own situation with being manipulated I was worried about the guy going after other younger women like he had with me. I didn't want anyone else have to be in that situation so I understand where Shelby is coming from. I also know that if the guy in my life had ever posted an apology, no matter how good it was, that I still wouldn't believe him and have a hard time forgiving him. Bold take but I think his apology was at least decent. Could it have been better, yeah, but could it have been a lot worse, also yes. In his apology he admits to being the person Shelby was talking about. He states that her feelings are valid, and that he wants people to hold him to higher accountability, and that he was sorry for any hurt he caused. Maybe he isnt, but it's hard to know. Wilbur stated in a livestream from last October 2023 that he was going to therapy the next day, because of this we can assume that Wilbur has been going to therapy at minimum since October. In that same livestream he states that he showers once a day when he's in his "big sad", and that he has rented places all over Brighton. He is at least hygienic in this regard, maybe moreso than he was before. It could be a red flag that Wilbur has lived all over Brighton due to possible evictions whether that be negligence or noise complaints from doing livestreams.

We'll never know how other content creators truly feel about him except for the ones that made it obvious. Of course most content creators are going to jump on the bandwagon and agree that he's an evil man. If they don't then they'll lose their platform because of all the hate they'd get. I do believe some content creators will still hang out with Wilbur secretly or still even remain his friend. But we'll never know.

For the people who are posting different video evidences of Wilbur supposedly showing signs of being abusive in the past this is what is called confirmation bias. If you believe someone is abusive suddenly you can find details in the littlest things to confirm your thought process. A lot of the clips I've been seeing have been of normal everyday behavior or confirmed bits. I've seen people say that Wilbur must have bit down really hard to leave bruises. In some cases people bruise more easily than others. I know I have random bruises on my body from nothing. We can tell that what Wilbur did however was pretty painful due to have to use a safe word. Getting bitten usually hurts. I've been bitten by a 5 year old at work and can't imagine how it would feel to be bitten by a grown man who intentionally bit down hard.

This could be confirmation bias as well, but when looking at the lyrics in Mammalian Sighing Reflex and at the album art it seems to tell the story of a man (Wilbur) who really messed up in a relationship and is feeling the pain from that, and has a lot of regret due to knowing he was the cause of her pain. He poured so much of himself into the album it's like he's bleeding out in front of the audience with the amount of vulnerability.

Analyzing lyrics because why not, using lyrics from "Mammalian Sighing Reflex"

"I get so drunk I can barely see." If this album is related to his relationship with Shelby, which I think it probably is, then maybe he tried to cope with the relationship failing by using alcohol, or sabotaged the relationship through drinking.

"A lot of friends have left my life, escaping my tractor beam of woe" Having a mental illness can make it hard to maintain friendships. This could be because it makes you so self-focused on your problems, or that people get tired of hearing about your problems. If you constantly talk about how sad you are, some people are going to have a hard time dealing with that, or get burnt out from having to keep on cheering you up.

"Fuck my life, you cared when I was sick, no one ever gave a shit.....you fought this war one-sided and asked me what am I doing this for." These lyrics seem to speak about how in a past relationship (probably meaning with Shelby), that she cared that he was mentally ill/in a low point and wanted to help him get better. The fight to help him get better was one-sided due to Wilbur not helping to get himself better. If he would have helped her then they "could of stitched my mind together."

"Never been the one for romance, never thought that I'd get married. Never been the kind to give a shared life a second glance, selfish prose." In Shelby's livestream she talked about how her and Wilbur talked about the possibility of getting married and having kids until he backtracked and said that he wasn't that way and changed his mind.

The song "I Don't Think It Will Ever End" is how his mind seems to work in cycles. He'll be sad, because he feels sad he hides away for a bit, but then he feels silly for hiding himself so he forces himself to interact with people. But then when forcing himself to interact again he feels sad, which he says is not a good feeling when you're supposedly in a good phase. He says as self-sabotage he gets silly. Wilbur is known for telling a lot of jokes, and maybe this is a way he masks his true feelings. Also for Mammalian Sighing Reflex it says the songs were written by William Gold (his legal name) and performed by Wilbur Soot (his stage name). Wilbur is who the internet/fans see him as and William Gold is who he really is. Meaning the way we see him online is the extroverted, charismatic, likeable guy we know him as whereas William Gold is introverted, self-sabotaging, nerdy, and a deep thinker.

The internet gives us way too much information. We're constantly bombarded with more and more information. Before the internet and even in the earlier internet days you did not have this. People were not being as closely viewed and known as they are now. You have to be careful about every little thing you say, because God forbid you say the wrong thing and get canceled. It didn't used to be this way. The only reason you'd ever know anything bad about a celebrity is if they were in the news. I think most of the media we consume whether TV shows, movies, etc. have the potential to have us supporting "bad people". It would be overwhelming to look up every single person we had ever consumed media from and sift through what are lies and what are not about each actor, singer, etc. I get that people don't want to give a platform to people doing bad things, but it's almost impossible to know and to remove every single bad person from the content you consume. Being a celebrity in general is hard. It's easy to become addicted to drugs, and experience toxicity especially celebrities that live in Los Angeles. Most become people they regret, but some change for the better too. I'm not saying people who do serious crimes should get out of jail because they can become better people. People in jail should remain in jail for serious crimes. Time will tell what becomes of him. If more about him is released or if he's able to actually make strides in his health like he said he would. We will wait and see. I really hope he can heal and get better. Even the most unlikely ones can change their lives. You can both support Shubble and hope that Wilbur gets better.

#wilbur soot #lovejoy

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adrift-in-thyme · 5 months

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@skyward-floored and I both noticed Warriors looking less than comfortable in Jojo's latest art and thought 'wait is he afraid of heights??' As someone who is VERY afraid of heights I naturally had to latch onto the idea...and write something about it. Sorry, Wars

CW for blood/injury, mentions of vomit, and descriptions of panic and fear of heights

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In no universe is this enjoyable.

Warriors stares down, transfixed by the sky and clouds beneath him, (beneath him — by the golden three they should be above him, ABOVE HIM like normal). His limbs are leaden, his thoughts scrambling, panicked. His mouth is dry as the Gerudo Desert.

He swallows, forces saliva down a too-tight throat. He and heights never truly have gotten along. But this is a new extreme.

He’s never been this high before. He’s never been atop an island in the sky. It’s something he was very much fine, never having done. In fact, he was much more fine before the Shadow had decided it would be wonderfully comical to dump them here.

To Sky, it had been the best thing since pumpkin soup. He was home, after all. Warriors can’t blame the guy.

Still…

He drags his foot away from where it had crept worrying close to the edge. How exactly had that happened?

Still, why on Hylia’s green earth does the hero have to live IN THE SKY?

Warriors glances over to where Sky is eagerly showing off his loftwing to Wild and Hyrule. A short ways away, Time converses with Gaepora. Not far from him, Legend and Wind seem to be engaging in a game of some sort.

Warriors squints. Are they…are they hurling those strange, little creatures off of Skyloft to see them fly back? Well, not anymore, because here comes Twilight to save the poor things. Not that they had seemed to mind much…

The rancher catches Warriors watching and shakes his head.

Can you believe these two? His gaze seems to ask.

Warriors dredges up a dry smirk.

Try dealing with that behavior 24/7, he mouths.

Twilight frowns. I do, is his silent response. Then, his brows dip further, expression losing its exasperated humor. He walks forward, a tiny creature cradled in his arms. Still very much paralyzed, Warriors watches helplessly as he advances.

“Rancher,” he says, cordially, once the hero is beside him – or more in front of him. (Why Twilight has chosen to stand with his toes off the edge of the island, Warriors has absolutely no idea. All he knows is that it makes his legs go numb. He forces himself to look forward instead.)

“Captain,” Twilight replies. He shifts and Warriors’ stomach somersaults. “Are you doin’ alright? You look a little pale.”

“Do I?” Warriors chuckles. It sounds too harsh, too loud. “Must not be spending enough time in the sun.”

Twilight gives him an unenthused look. Warriors grins. The expression feels as wrong as his laugh. Too wide, too brittle.

Why does everything just seem off right now?

“Don’t worry about me, rancher. I’m alright.”

Twilight studies him for a moment, eyes narrowed. He opens his mouth, no doubt gearing up to pry further. But Four’s voice rings out before he can, beckoning him to come inspect one thing or another. Warriors can’t truly make out the words. Maybe that’s because his ears are filled with the sound of rushing wind.

Is it the wind? Or is it coming from inside of him, stealing away his remaining balance and setting his stomach churning?

“Well, take care of yourself,” Twilight says. He sets a hand on Warriors’ shoulder, with a small smile. “And be careful. Can’t have you fallin’ off the edge there.”

Warriors looks down and immediately regrets it. He hardly registers Twilight walking away, doesn’t hear his brother’s lively voices as they enjoy the wonders of Sky’s home. All he can see is the drop off he is certain that he is mere inches from plunging off of. His line of vision narrows, darkening at the edges, and he stumbles back, arms wrapped protectively around his middle.

“Captain?” Time is suddenly holding him, keeping him from toppling. “Are you well?”

Warriors swallows hard. “Fine, Sprite.

“Just fine.”

It’s only the lack of a substantial breakfast that morning that prevents him from getting sick all over the old man’s shoes. ----------------

The next few days are torture. Warriors does his best to keep his distance from the edges of the island. But it is nearly impossible in a place so compact as Skyloft. And the sparse fences constructed around hardly seem enough to keep him from plunging off.

So, he spends most of his time indoors (praying to any goddess who may listen that there won’t be a sudden earthquake that sends the building careening down into nothingness).

His excuses are few and paltry.

“I don’t feel well.” “I’m tired after the journey.” “I need to think about an actual plan to track down the Shadow before he gets too far ahead.”

The heroes can see right through him – he is certain of it. And none more than Time.

“Tell me what I can do, captain,” he says one night when Warriors awakens screaming after a dream of plunging into a sky of flame. (And wow, does that commotion help him maintain his secrecy and uphold his reputation. He’s doing wonderfully.) “Please, I want to help.”

Warriors’ breath hitches as he slumps into his little brother’s arms. Here, with the two of them there is nothing to hide anyway. He couldn’t even if he tried.

“You can get me off this cursed island,” he says, with a dry chuckle. “That would be lovely.”

Time merely sighs and holds him closer.

They both know he can’t do that.

…just as he cannot keep away the monsters the Shadow sends after them the next day.

Venturing outside of the academy to fight off a hoard of monsters is not exactly something Warriors had wanted to do. He is a hero, however, and he refuses to leave his brothers to battle them alone. So, out he comes into the light of the day, with his heart in his throat and his chest feeling like Ganondorf is sitting on top of it.

“I’m sorry that you have to do this,” Time murmurs as they head toward the tell tale screeches (in the plaza, of course).

Warriors shrugs, somewhat stiffly. “Who knows? I could get lucky.” He sends Time a grin and plunges his sword into the first of the monsters. “Maybe the Shadow will open another portal.”

Time smirks. “Perhaps, he will.”

-----------------

The fight drags on all morning. Warriors fares well enough through it. He remains in the center of the plaza as often as he can and his brothers take care of the stragglers around the edges. He does his best not to look at them when they toe the edge, heedless of certain death less than inches away.

And he fights on with the same ferocity as he always does.

…until about midmorning. Because that’s when the moblin shows up.

It is one of Sky’s – hulking and corpulent and capable of taking at least ten bokoblins with one hefty swing of its spear. But he has fought this kind before. With a smirk, he rushes forward to engage it.

He hacks away at its shield easily, then readies himself to dodge as it roars in rage. It rears back, then bends its head, smoke puffing out of its nostrils.

Warriors raises an eyebrow. He hefts his sword more firmly into his hand.

“You gonna come and get me?”

It roars again and breaks into a run. He steels himself, tensed for the strike. One second, two, three…

“Warriors look out!”

Something hits him from behind – something big and bulky and heavy. It slams into his side, breaking bones on impact. He gasps, vision going spotty.

And suddenly he is flying. His feet leave the ground and he is tumbling, head over heels through the air. The world is a blur of color, up is down and left is right. He is almost certain that he’s going to be sick.

Then, it’s over. He hits the ground in a tangle of limbs and fabric. Blood fills his mouth and he chokes on it.

“Captain!”

Running feet sound in his ears. He blinks, dazedly, trying to bring everything back into focus. It feels like the moblin has taken to tap dancing on his skull.

“Ugh…”

“Captain!”

There is panic in that voice, he realizes sluggishly. There must be a reason for that, there has to be…

His vision clears just enough that he can make out a gigantic something looming above him. He tries to push himself up for a better look, but his upper half seems to be on a slightly different level than his bottom half. When he allows himself to lay down fully he sees only sky.

Ah…that would explain it.

Panic pierces him far deeper than any spear ever could. He digs his fingernails into the grooves in the pavement, gritting his teeth against the pain and oncoming unconsciousness.

Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out…

“Captain!”

He tries once more to pull himself up and fails.

Warriors lets out a grow of aggravation. He really wishes his brothers would exert more energy on fighting off this thing and getting him back on land than yelling his title repeatedly.

…though maybe he has heard it a few more times than they have really said it.

The monster raises its weapon just as Twilight comes out of nowhere, leaping forward to skewer it. The rancher’s sword strikes home seconds before the monster’s can, piercing it through. And the next thing Warriors knows, he’s staring up at the concerned face of his brother.

“Are you alright?”

Twilight leans forward, grabbing his hand and supporting his back as he drags him away from the edge. Warriors slumps against him with a relieved sigh.

“Just great,” he slurs and Twilight chuckles.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get you a potion and you’ll be just – ”

Warriors isn’t entirely certain what happens. He is too dazed to comprehend the events that occur in quick succession.

One moment he is held in Twilight’s arms and the next, the rancher is wrenched away from him with a grunt of pain and shock. Then, something collides with Warriors’ chest…

And he’s falling.

His stomach turns to lead, the wind rushes past at breakneck speeds, his scarf tangles about his limbs. Panic courses through his veins, beating in time with his pounding head and thumping heart. It encases him like a vice, paralyzing him, chasing away all other feelings, all other sensations save for icy, thick, undefeatable terror.

Warriors shuts his eyes and grits his teeth. He can’t breathe. He’s going to be sick, he’s sure of it.

…Or maybe he’ll die before that happens. Maybe he’ll collide with the hard ground and in a quiet, contained explosion of agony be gone.

And after he had just gotten up the courage to propose to Arty too. Isn’t that just his luck.

“Hold on, Wars!”

An inhuman cry rings out, free and brave and strangely familiar. In the next moment Warriors’ lands with something blessedly solid. Arms wrap around him, warm and strong. A heart beats fast beneath the chest he collapses against.

“I’ve got you, captain,” Sky breathes. “I’ve got you.”

He drapes his sail cloth over Warriors’ trembling shoulders. Warriors clutches it so tightly his fingers ache.

“Get me somewhere low to the ground,” he whispers, in between haggard breaths. “Please.”

“Don’t worry.” Sky’s voice is kind. “I’m bringing you to the Surface.”

The Surface. That sounds promising. Warriors can only hope that it is as solidly on the ground as the name suggests.

He won’t see it if it is, though. He keeps his eyes stubbornly closed the entire trip.

---------------

The Surface, it turns out, is just plain, old Hyrule. Which, in Warriors’ book, is pure heaven.

“I still can’t believe no one thought to tell me about this place,” he gripes as he limps out of Sky and Sun’s cozy, little cottage, two days later. “Why would anyone want to stay up in the sky when we could be down here, on the ground?”

Twilight smirks. The rancher has been cooped up with him for the last few days as they healed from the injuries they got on Skyloft. And Warriors has to admit that he has appreciated his company.

“I still can’t believe you’re afraid of heights.” Twilight grins innocently at him. “The great Captain of the Hyrulean Army, scared of a little sky island.”

His tone is light and teasing and Warriors feels no pain from the jabs. But he scowls anyway.

“I’m scared of falling off a ‘little sky island.’ Which, coincidentally, I did and nearly died. Given that, I’d say the fear is warranted.”

Twilight hums. “So, what you’re saying is fear of heights is really a fear of falling.”

Warriors sighs. He looks out over the small town Sky and Sun are building, smiling slightly as he spots Time and Wind fishing in a nearby stream. It’s lovely, really, how he’ll be able to enjoy those activities with them now that he isn’t trapped in the grip of nauseating fear.

“I don’t know, rancher,” he says, shrugging. “Call it what you want. All I can say is that I want my feet firmly on the ground.”

#trin writes #linked universe #lu warriors #lu twilight #lu time #lu sky #angst #hurt/comfort #blood #injury #whump #fear of heights #linked universe fic

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frogchiro · 11 months

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Hello to anyone who will read this. There are some things I need to adress befire I leave for good. The first one being the sheer amount of people reaching out to me and sending in kind words and support was really...unexpected but just know that while I'm unable to respond to everyone, if you're reading this I love you and thank you from the bottom of my heart, know that your words had a big impact and I'm thankful for every last message.

The second issue is my leave. This is probably the emotions talking since I'm dealing with issues privately too and adding this 'unfortunate event' didn't help me at all. For all I know I'm leaving this blog and I don't know when and if I ever go back because while I truly loved it here, I loved writing for you guys and reading your responses it all just...went down the drain for me. I lost motivation, I lost the will and I don't want to write anymore. Being baselessly accused of vile things just...left me empty and fight just left me while still the one accusing never provided any evidence as far as I know and I openly talked about any possible issue. I won't be deactivating this blog since many people reached out to me asking me not to and I'm way too attached to it myself since I spent here some of my most cherished moments but I just can't do this anymore, not for a very long time and I truly don't know if or when I'll return.

If you're reading this far, I'm sorry for this word vomit, I just had to get this out. My dm's are open and askbox too but I doubt I'll answer anything in the forseeable future. I really hope you're happy and wish you good. Goodbye guys💕

#kin speaks

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savanaclaw1996 · 8 months

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The Birth of Richard

Just a little story about life after Sariphi's coronation as queen, the stages of her pregnancy with Richard and Richard's birth. To be honest, I've got quite a fetish for fpreg and birthing stories, and it's kinda embarrassing to even mention it, hahaha...😅 Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 2,916 words.

Warnings: pregnancy, morning sickness, swollen breasts, lactation, childbirth, episode 12 spoilers.

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Shortly after Sariphi was crowned the official Queen of the Beasts, life in Ozmargo had never been the same. Some of the beasts were still skeptical of having a human woman like Sariphi be their queen, but her kindness and sweet disposition quickly won them over.

Leonhart was happy that Sariphi had proved worthy enough to rule by his side. Then again, he had always known that she was worthy to be Queen of the Beasts.

After their marriage, everyone carried on with their lives as usual. But then, one year later, some changes had slowly begun to materialize. It all started one morning when Sariphi suddenly felt sick and threw up in a basin provided by the maids.

Sariphi tried to focus on her queenly duties, but she would often get dizzy and nauseous in between them. Cy, Clops, Amit, and Lanteveldt would often worry about how pale her face looked, and how she would sometimes pause her duties to throw up.

Eventually, Leonhart took notice of her getting sick and expressed his concerns. "My queen, are you ill?" he asked. Sariphi's shoulders shook as she panted, leaning over the vomit in the basin.

"So-Sorry, Leo," she sighed as she wiped her mouth with a handkerchief. "I just got a bit nauseous." Leonhart frowned. If Sariphi is sick with something, then she'll need to rest. "Sariphi, I'll have the Head Priest look after you tomorrow." he said.

"I'm sure it's nothing serious." Sariphi said with an assuring smile. "It's probably just the flu or something." Despite seeing her smile, Leonhart couldn't help but worry about Sariphi's condition. "Don't take things like this so lightly, Sariphi." he said firmly.

"I do not intend to lose my new queen any time soon. If you truly are ill with something, then it's best that you get some rest and take better care of yourself." Sariphi nodded. "Okay, Leo." she said.

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And so, Sariphi was examined by the Head Priest. After a thorough medical examination, the Head Priest nodded. "It seems that your body is undergoing some changes, my queen." he said. Sariphi tilted her head in confusion. "What does that mean?" she asked.

The Head Priest smiled. "It means, my queen, that you are..."

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"P-PR-PREGNANT?!?!" Amit's screech echoed through the air. Amit has been worried that Sariphi might be suffering some sort of illness since she was constantly nauseous, but to hear Sariphi announce that she was actually pregnant... she was not prepared for that at all!

Neither were Cy and Clops, for Cy's eye was wide and Clops' mouth hung open. Even Lanteveldt was flabbergasted.

Sariphi nodded. "Yep. I was worried that it might be the flu or something, but the Head Priest said that I was actually suffering morning sickness." she replied. "And my body is preparing itself for my baby to develop."

Amit, Lanteveldt, Cy and Clops said nothing as they all stared at Sariphi with wide eyes. Sariphi looked at her friends with concern. "Guys, what's wrong?" she asked.

Then Amit burst into tears as she wrapped her arms around Sariphi's torso. "SARIPHI...!!!" she wailed joyfully. "Congratulations!!! You're going to be a mother!!!" Cy and Clops were equally as excited as they hopped up and down.

"Congratulations, Sariphi! We're so happy for you!!!" Clops cried. "Happy!" Cy squealed, tears streaming from his eye. Lanteveldt just scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Congrats, I guess?" he said.

Sariphi beamed. "Thank you!" she said. If she was being honest, she was excited to be a mother, but at the same time, she also felt pretty anxious. To actually be pregnant for the first time ever... that feeling felt very weird to her.

"I wonder how Leonhart will react to the news...? Would he be happy or... shocked?" she wondered. Most likely the latter. No doubt that Leonhart would be speechless once he finds out he's going to be a father.

She remembered their talk back at the waterfalls during their visit at Sarbul. Leonhart told her how since he was king, he was duty bound to produce an heir to the throne.

He also told her how his dying father, or rather, uncle expressed his deep loathing towards him because of his half-human blood and how he was terrified of passing on the same burden of his cursed blood towards his future offspring.

He even expressed how he was not confident that he could love a child born from his blood. Leonhart once loathed that weak and inferior human side of him. How it was a troublesome curse he didn't wish to pass on to his future offspring if he were to take a queen.

But Sariphi also remembered the next words he told her that night: "No matter what predicament my blood places my heirs in, if they are the children of our union, then I swear on my name, Leonhart, to defend them with all my body and soul."

She had prayed that that curse of his would one day be a blessing. And seems that day finally came true. Even after his whole kingdom discovered his human form, he fought hard to reclaim his kingdom and won back his people's trust.

Now he no longer held any fear of burdening his offspring with his human blood. Sariphi smiled. "I can't wait to tell Leonhart the wonderful news." she thought.

"Oh, Lady Sariphi, does His Majesty know about the wonderous news?" Amit asked. "No," Sariphi replied, "but I'll tell him tonight."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that night, Leonhart returned to his bedchambers, exhausted from a day of work. Sariphi was sitting on the bed, smiling. "Good evening, Leo." she greeted him.

Leonhart noticed that Sariphi was smiling from ear to ear, which was rather strange. What did the Head Priest say to her to make her smile like that? "Sariphi, you look rather joyful tonight. What happened?" Leonhart asked.

Sariphi giggled. "Well, sire. The Head Priest told me that I'm going to be a mother." she said. Leonhart stiffened as his ruby-red eyes widened. Did he just hear her correctly? Did she say what he thought he heard her say? "Sariphi, repeat that one more time." he said.

"I visited the Head Priest, and he told me that I was actually suffering morning sickness, which is normal during the first stages of pregnancy." Sariphi replied joyfully. "That means I'm pregnant! Isn't it exciting? You're going to be a father, Leo!"

Leonhart said nothing as he stood still in his spot. His fur bristled as thoughts rushed through his mind. Sariphi looked at her husband with concern.

"Leo, are you okay?" she asked. "Are you...shocked?" She started to worry. "Oh, no! Was it too soon? I should've been more subtle on letting him know about my pregnancy. Maybe I should..."

Sariphi's thoughts were suddenly interrupted as Leonhart suddenly approached her. Sariphi looked up at her large husband, seeing the unreadable expression on his face. "Leonhart...?" she asked. Leonhart said nothing as he tenderly embraced his wife's small frame.

"Sariphi..." he whispered as he rubbed his furry cheek against hers tenderly. "Leo...?" Sariphi asked as she looked at her husband's eyes. It was sometimes difficult to understand his facial expressions, but the look in his eyes told her that he was smiling with elation.

"Sariphi, I cannot tell you how deeply happy I am to be a father." Leonhart said. "I look forward to meeting our child when it is born." Sariphi smiled as she wrapped her arms around Leonhart's neck.

"I have no doubt that you'll be a wonderful father, Leo." Sariphi said. Leonhart nodded.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ever since Sariphi's pregnancy was announced, Sariphi had gone through many changes. Besides her morning sickness, she sometimes went through certain mood swings like crying over the littlest things and craving certain foods.

With each passing week, Sariphi's once-flat belly started to noticeably round out. As her belly grew, so did her breasts. They would get big, swollen and tender as they were filled with milk for her baby.

Poor Sariphi would moan in pain as she massaged her sore breasts. And since she started to lactate, she has to hold a large bowl under her breasts as the milk dripped down into it.

Ever her faithful friends and attendants, Cy and Clops stood by her side and tended to her. They even held up the bowl for Sariphi whenever she was lactating. Little by little, the bump on her belly started to grow bigger and bigger until she looked big and gravid.

She couldn't even count the times the unborn baby kicked and moved in her belly. Sariphi smiled. If the little baby can kick her, that proves that the baby will be born healthy.

Sariphi sometimes had trouble walking around the palace grounds. With her gravid stomach, she would only waddle short distances and get tired quickly. Carrying around a growing baby in your belly was certainly no easy task!

Fortunately for her, she wasn't alone. Cy, Clops, Amit, Lanteveldt, Anubis and even Leonhart himself kept constant watch over her and her unborn baby.

One day, Sariphi was in the gardens with Cy, Clops, Amit and Lantevelt having a little picnic. Little Tetra was there with them, enjoying her day together with her companions. Sariphi rubbed her round belly, smiling contently as everyone ate and talked.

Tetra looked at her round belly curiously. "Can I touch it?" she asked. Sariphi nodded. "Of course. Go ahead." she said. Tetra gently placed her little paws on Sariphi's gravid stomach.

When her mother Calra was pregnant was Calcara, she never had the chance to rub her stomach or listen to her unborn brother inside the womb. Now that she was able to listen to Sariphi's unborn baby inside her womb, it felt weird yet also exciting.

"Sariphi, how does it feel to be pregnant?" Tetra asked curiously. Sariphi let out a sigh. "Well, it's pretty difficult to explain. It feels really strange carrying a new life inside you." she said.

"But it's also exhilarating because I get to meet my child after it's born." Tetra tilted her head. "Really?" she asked. "I wonder how I would feel once I'm married and pregnant." she thought. Then suddenly, Sariphi let out a pained gasp.

Everyone stopped chatting and saw Sariphi clutching her gravid belly and groaning in pain. "Sariphi? What's wrong? Are you alright?!" Amit asked worriedly. "Sari!" Cy and Clops yelled, also feeling concerned.

"Lady Sariphi?" Lantevelt asked with wide eyes. Sariphi didn't respond. She started to pant laboriously before she turned to face her friends. "Sorry, guys." she apologized, trying to manage a smile, even though she was obviously in pain. "My stomach hurts..."

Amit then gasped. If Sariphi was in pain, that could mean only one thing... "Don't tell me...! Are you...?" she asked. As Sariphi tried to respond, there was a sudden loud pop!, and water spilled between Sariphi's legs. Amit gasped. "Sariphi, you're...!!!"

Sariphi groaned before she gasped as a painful contraction coursed through her. Amit immediately stood up. This was it! This was the time! "Sariphi's going into labor! That baby is coming!" she announced.

As soon as she said those words, Cy and Clops immediately started to panic. "WHAT DO WE DO?! WHAT DO WE DO?!" they cried as they ran in circles. Lanteveldt, however, remained calm.

"Calm down, you cannonballs." he said. "We'll get her to her bedchamber." Amit and Lanteveldt quickly but carefully helped Sariphi stand up and guided her towards her bedchamber. The trek was difficult, but they've managed to place Sariphi on her bed.

Amit then quickly summoned the priests and the midwife who was hired to aid Sariphi. Once everyone got into position, the labor process began.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Leonhart was sitting on his throne when one of the palace vassals, a cat, quickly approached him. "Your Majesty! I bring urgent news! Lady Sariphi has gone into labor! She's giving birth to her baby right now!" he yelled.

Leonhart's eyes widened and he immediately stood up from his throne as soon as Clops' words reached his ears. He wasted no time as he rushed towards the bedchamber.

"Sariphi...!" he whispered anxiously, silently praying to the gods that she'll be alright.

Meanwhile, Sariphi panted and gasped in pain as she lay on her bed. Her forehead was wet, and her hair was sticky with perspiration as she struggled to push the baby out from her womb. The midwife was tending to her, wiping her forehead with a cold washcloth.

Another contraction shot though Sariphi's body, making her squeal with pain. She had never known that childbirth could be this painful. She had heard some stories about pregnant women going through painful labor, but never thought much about it since she was to be sacrificed.

Now that she was Queen of the Beasts, she's going through that exact moment of labor. And it was more painful than she had ever imagined it would be!

"Ohhhh, it hurts!" Sariphi cried out in pain. "Please hang in there, Sariphi! I'll be over soon!" Amit said, gripping her hand tightly. "You're crowning, Lady Sariphi! I can see the head! Push!" the midwife said. Gathering up reserves of her strength, Sariphi pushed.

Meanwhile, outside the bedchamber door, Lanteveldt leaned against the wall while Cy and Clops paced by the door nervously, listening to Sariphi's cries of pain.

"Oh, I hope she'll be okay! I wish we could help her in some way!" Clops said anxiously. "Help Sari." Cy added worriedly. "Chill out, you guys. Sariphi may not look it, but she's a tough woman." Lanteveldt said. "I'm sure that she'll tough it-"

A loud, shrill, agonized scream coming from the bedchamber quickly cut him off. Cy and Clops grew even more anxious. "SARI!!!" they wailed, fearing the worst.

Then they noticed Leonhart marching down the hallway towards the bedchamber door followed by Anubis. "Your Highness!" Lanteveldt exclaimed before he quickly bowed before Leonhart. "How is Sariphi?" he asked.

Cy and Clops approached him. "Your Majesty! Sariphi is still in labor!" Clops said. Leonhart didn't want to waste another second longer as he headed towards the double doors.

"Sire, wait! You mustn't! Men are forbidden to enter the birthing room!" Anubis said. Behind the bedchamber doors, they could hear Sariphi gasping in pain. "I must tend to Sariphi! I cannot stand idly by while she's in pain!" Leonhart said as he pushed the bedchamber doors open.

As he entered the room, the sound of an infant's wails reached his ears as he stared at the sight before him.

The midwife was carrying a crying white bundle in her arms. Sariphi was lying in bed, her pale face dotted with drops of sweat and panting heavily. "Sariphi!" Leonhart exclaimed as he quickly rushed to her side. "Sari!" Cy and Clops cried as they followed suit.

Sariphi didn't respond to their cries as she was too exhausted to lift her head. Leonhart knelt beside his queen and gently held her hand. "Sariphi?" he asked.

Sariphi wearily opened her eyes. "Leonhart?" she asked. She tried to get up, but she felt too tired to move. Leonhart gently helped her sit up. All the while, the little infant continued to wail. The midwife turned her attention towards Sariphi as she walked over towards the bed.

"Congratulations, Your Highness." the midwife said with a smile as she placed the swaddled infant into Sariphi's outstretched arms. "It's a boy. You have a healthy son."

Sariphi gently removed the blanket, revealing the baby's face. The little baby beast had soft fur as white as clouds, the same color as her hair, a tiny wet pink nose, soft tiny fluffy ears and two tiny little bumps on top of its head. The newborn beast waved its little paws as it wailed.

Sariphi smiled as joyful tears rolled down her cheeks. Her baby son was simply the cutest little thing she had ever seen. A symbol of her and Leonhart's love, a perfect mixture of both her and him.

Sariphi held her newborn son close to her chest. Hearing his mother's heartbeat, the baby beast's wails softened into whimpers. He then reached his tiny paws out to her. Sariphi gently pressed her thumb against her son's little pink paw pads.

Soft and squishy, just like Leonhart's, she thought. Leonhart gazed down at his newborn son with a mixture of curiosity, pride and joy. He could hardly believe it. He was now a father. A father.

Leonhart knelt beside Sariphi and his newborn son. "Isn't he beautiful, Leo?" Sariphi whispered. "Indeed he is. I'm so proud of you, Sariphi." Leonhart replied. He then gently pressed his snout against his son's furry cheek.

Sariphi wanted to squeal at such an adorable sight, but she didn't want to wake her son. As Leonhart looked at his son, the words of the vow he made years ago rang in his mind:

"No matter what predicament my blood places my heirs in, if they are the children of our union, then I swear on my name, Leonhart, to defend them with all my body and soul." And he will see to it that his vow will be fulfilled.

"What should we name him?" Leonhart asked. Sariphi smiled. "I've already thought of it. From now on, our son's name will be Richard." she replied.

"Richard?" Leonhart asked. Sariphi nodded. "Since you've taken Leonhart as your name, we should name our son Richard." she said. "Richard. I think that name suits him." Leonhart said. "Welcome, Richard, our son."

#sariphi #niehime to kemono no ou #sacrificial princess and the king of beasts #sariphi x leonhart #贄姫と獣の王 #leonhart #lanteveldt #cy&clops #pregnancy #childbirth #fpreg #giving birth #birth story #writers on tumblr #pregnant wife #wholesome #prince richard

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adorethedistance · 11 months

Text

RollerMagic - Quinn Hughes x Reader

Hockey Masterlist

Warnings: mention of vomit, swearing, suggestive comment

Words: 1904

Requested: could you write about quinn pleeeease. had a dream last night: Quinn was in New Jersey for a Canucks and Devils game and went out with his brothers to a roller rink (?), met a girl by the candy machine (her candy had gotten stuck and he politely punched the machine to catch it) they spent the night talking (the two youngest Hughes looking for him like fools) and he invited her to watch the game and, soon after, a date; she said she would go to the game but would only accept the date if he scored a goal for her (he scored a hat trick)

A/n: Listen I don't know Quinn very well so I was not going for realism on this one. This is literally just my best guess at flirting with him but I truly don't know him enough to know if this is true to his character so I'm sorry for that! I've also just never done a Quinn fic before so first time for everything I guess?

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” I say to myself as the small pack of Skittles I’d just bought becomes wedged between the coils of the vending machine. I gently bang on the glass but the Skittles packet doesn’t budge. Utterly defeated, I huff out a soft sigh before dropping my head and staring at the fluorescent patterning of the Arcade carpet. Today is not my day.

I was late to work because of my car stalling, some kid puked in the middle of the roller rink and I had to clean it up, I left my lunchbox on the kitchen counter by accident, and now the only food that I had enough cash on me to buy was stuck in the vending machine. Could this day get any worse?

I lift my head, preparing to cut my losses, when I lock eyes with a guy who is probably around my age but definitely attractive. His wavy brown hair and soft eyes shimmer in the dim arcade lighting. He smiles at me politely and I smile back, too absorbed by my own infatuation to think twice about it. He glances to either side before making his way over. I panic internally at the idea of such a cute stranger heading my way, but I can’t bring myself to walk away.

“You doing alright?” The hazel-eyed boy asks upon seeing me in distress.

“I’m great!” I fake being chipper as we both know the real answer. He laughs softly at the joke and I relax a tiny bit at the idea of making a good impression. “How much of that did you see?” I ask, praying his answer will keep my dignity intact. He hesitates for a moment before answering,

“Honestly? Everything.”

“Good. Good! This is good. First, I have a terrible day, and now a really cute boy has officially witnessed my latest and greatest downfall? This is just great.” I ramble out of intense nervousness.

“You think I’m cute?” He teases inquisitively. I search and scan my brain for a witty response to no avail.

“It was hypothetical?” I say though it comes out as more of a question than a statement.

“What’s hypothetical?”

“I don’t know, I was hoping if I said it with enough conviction that you wouldn’t question it.” The cute stranger apparently thinks this is very funny and heartily laughs at my confession.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I got your name?”

“Y/n.”

“Y/n,” he softly repeats my name, smiling at the way it sounds in his own voice. “I’m Quinn by the way.” Quinn extends his right hand politely, and the feeling of his strong hand in mine gives me butterflies. The shape of his palms and the length of his fingers. I wonder what it would feel like to have one around the base of my neck and the other in between-

“Nice to meet you, Y/n.” I blink rapidly to shake away the brief fantasy. God, it’s been a while.

“Uh, you too…?

“Quinn.”

“Quinn!” Quinn. “Quinn what?”

“Quinn Hughes.”

“Pretty good name.”

“Thanks, I guess?”

“Has a pretty good ring…” I pause, unsure of why I needed to tell him that.

“Have you worked here a while?” He asks, and my brows furrow in confusion.

“How do you know I work here?” Quinn laughs heartily before realizing I’m not making a joke.

“You… you’re wearing a name tag and a t-shirt that says RollerMagic.” I close my eyes and wince at my own unfathomable obliviousness. I’m surprised he’s still talking to me with the way this conversation is going.

“Right. It’s been a long day.”

“Tell me about it.”

“What happened with you?” I ask, genuinely curious about the day of the slightly less unfamiliar boy. Not that I could even help the sudden interest. Especially when he looks at me this kindly and smells like icy sandalwood.

“Also a bad day at work.”

“Where do you work?”

“Vancouver.” My jaw drops and Quinn bursts out laughing at the more than apparent shock on my face. I don’t laugh though, I just look at him bewildered, waiting for an explanation.

“Care to elaborate?”

“I play hockey.” “Like, for a living?”

“You could say that. Although it took a bit before making a living since I was drafted in 2018.”

“Oh shit, you’ve been pro since 2018?” He nods, surprisingly patient with my disbelief. “So you’re like, rich rich?” Quinn laughs at the question and concedes a little bit.

“I don’t know about that-”

“I know what sports contracts pay, my mom is a lawyer. Also, look at your watch. You can’t pretend and play coy when you’re wearing something that expensive.”

“Touché. What about you? You never answered my question.”

“I’ve been working here since Freshman year so coming up on four years now.”

“You’re a student?”

“Yeah.”

“Where at?”

“Princeton.”

“Holy shit. So you’re like smart smart?” Quinn makes fun of me and I roll my eyes at him.

“Okay, I see how that sounds now. Wait if you’re from Vancouver what are you doing here?”

“We’re playing the New Jersey Devils? Ever heard of them?”

“No, I got that, you little priss. I mean why are you here as in why are you at a roller rink?”

“I don’t know. My idiot brothers were hellbent on going to an arcade.”

“Do they play for Vancouver also?” I ask playfully.

“They play for Jersey actually.”

“I was kidding…” After I trail off, Quinn and I begin laughing, the absurdity of the conversation continuously growing in magnitude. “But like, both of them?”

“Yep.”

“How did that happen?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” He states in a non-judgemental, yet amused tone.

“Only when someone is interesting enough to be worth interrogating.” Quinn smiles flirtatiously and I drop my eyes to the floor, shocked by my own boldness.

“You’re really cute,” He says simply, as if the very statement didn’t ignite every nerve in my body.

“So did Vancouver lose and that’s why you had a bad day at work?”

“No, just a rough practice. The game is tonight actually.”

“Good luck,” I say without any snark or playfulness. Just a legitimate regard for his success. Quinn is taken aback by the genuine care and he smiles brightly as a result.

“Thanks.”

“I’ve never been to a hockey game before.”

“Never?!”

“Never.”

“Well, then you’ve gotta come to the game tonight.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“Are you working late?”

“No, I’m off at six.”

“That’s perfect.”

“I don’t- I’m not-” I sigh, unsure of how much or little I should share with Quinn in this moment. “I can’t really afford a hockey game right now.” I put as simply as possible. Quinn pauses for a moment and then laughs softly.

“Don’t even worry about it.”

“...What?”

“Don’t worry about it.” I stare at him dumbfounded as if I’m stunned he could be so nonchalant like this.

“There’s gonna be three of us from the same family out on the ice tonight and our parents don’t even live here. I’m pretty sure we can swing getting you a seat or two.”

“I can’t accept that. We just met and I’m not really cool with taking things from strangers.”

“Even if it’s a really cute boy with a sports contract?” He says jokingly and I drop my guard a tiny bit. I huff out a sigh, still feeling conflicted and slightly uneasy. Quinn picks up on the uneasiness and looks me in the eyes before softly saying, “Look, you don’t have to take me up on the offer, but it would be really cool to see you there tonight. Either way, it’s totally fine with me.” The lengths to which he is going just to ease my anxieties and ensure my comfort fills my chest with warm, radiant light and I smile gently at the level of consideration.

“...Okay.”

“Okay. Could I get your number to send you all the information you’ll need?”

“Is that the only reason you want my number?” Quinn looks off and shrugs a little as he admits,

“Well, I’d also like to get to know the pretty girl from the roller rink. And I was hoping I could possibly take her out on a date while I’m still in town?” My stomach erupts into a million butterflies and I hold out my hand to take his phone. He gives me the unlocked device after setting up a new contact. I brazenly decide I should keep Quinn on his toes, out of concern that he thinks I’ll make things easy for him.

“If you win tonight you can take me out.”

“Bro, what?”

“I’m serious!”

“Why? This is so childish!”

“No, this is serious, Quinn. I can’t date a loser!”

“Oh my god- okay, fine. If we win-”

“Win what?” A strange voice says from behind me. I turn around to see two other boys have appeared behind me and Quinn from seemingly thin air. Out of fear of more of them appearing, I lean back against the vending machine I was once sworn enemies with. Seeking shelter in the cool glass that’s been illuminated by LEDs.

“Nothing.”

“Is this guy bothering you, sweetheart?” The tallest one says and the one he’s standing with laughs.

“Seriously, Q. We leave you alone for ten minutes.”

“I’ll meet you guys in the car,” Quinn speaks up, clearly flustered by their presence in this moment.

“Okayyy, don’t be long, lover boy.”

“You’re on the clock.”

“And that was…”

“The idiot brothers I was talking about.”

“Right. Got it.” I’m amused if anything, but I can tell Quinn is struggling to shake off the encounter. Rolling my eyes, I extend my hand to him which he takes confusedly. Pulling him closer to where I’m leaning against the vending machine, he gets the idea and steps forward to close the gap between us. I didn’t anticipate being flustered by the close proximity, but as he steps closer he places his hand against the glass of the vending machine, above my head. His crisp scent is stronger and I’m grateful he took the invitation to close in.

“Anyway. If we win-”

“Mhm.”

“I get to take you out?”

“And if you lose?” I ask, challenging him. He takes a moment to think it over.

“I don’t know. What happens if we lose?” I mimic his expression from when he was deep in thought, before saying with a completely straight face,

“I kill you.” We both burst out laughing. I hate to think that I already like Quinn as much as I do.

“I guess I’ll make sure to win.”

“You better.” Quinn backs up and the excitement I was having trouble controlling vanishes when I can no longer feel him near me. My subconscious urges me to be nearer to him and I push off of the vending machine as well. Quinn looks past me and I follow his gaze. He’s examining the Skittles packet that I abandoned, and in one swift movement, he hits the side of the machine and the packet neatly falls to the bottom. My lips part in shock and I’m amazed at how seemingly easy that was for him. He grabs the bag and holds it out to me like it’s no big deal, but I can tell he’s very proud of himself.

“See you later tonight then?”

“See ya later.”

***

A/n: hope y'all liked it and I've got a Jamie fic in the works so stay tuned!! Special thanks to the person who requested this !

#Quinn Hughes #Quinn Hughes x reader #Quinn Hughes x y/n #Quinn Hughes x you #Quinn Hughes fanfiction #Quinn Hughes fanfic #Quinn Hughes fic #Quinn Hughes imagine #Quinn Hughes one shot #Quinn Hughes oneshot #Quinn Hughes reader insert #Quinn Hughes smut #Quinn Hughes fluff #Quinn Hughes angst #nhl #nhl fanfiction

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mackenzielovee · 1 year

Text

parenthood part twenty: intemperance

a/n: ahhh , this is a long one! but it's a good one (hopefully). happy sunday and i hope you guys have a wonderful week ahead. reblogs are appreciated, as is feedback! thank you! xoxo

warnings: swearing, verbal arguments, complicated family dynamics, alcoholism, vomiting, mentions of pregnancy, birth control, vasectomy, allusion to smut

ambivalence masterlist , parenthood masterlist

You’re completely still in front of the bathroom mirror as you stare at yourself, listing off the symptoms in your head and connecting the potential dots.

The nausea. The tender breasts. The bloating. The alert on your phone telling you that your period is five days late.

Your life plays out before your eyes as you anxiously plan out what another pregnancy means for everyone. Not just you, who already feels defeated and drained at the thought of having to go through another nine months. It also means a baby, a million sleepless nights, and another adjustment to your house. Your family. It changes everything, and it wasn’t anything you planned on.

Rafe knocks on the bathroom door and you shove the unused pregnancy test back into your vanity, spinning around and giving him a fake smile as he enters.

“Sorry, forgot my belt,” he tells you, looking handsome as ever as he gets ready for his boys night with Kelce and Topper.

“You’re fine,” you promise him, “You look handsome.”

He smiles as he buckles his belt, “Thanks, baby.”

You accept his kiss when he offers it, and without another word, he escapes back out to watch the kids. You take one final look at the mirror, then at the drawer concealing your pregnancy test, and walk out behind him.

“I can handle it.”

It’s your fifth time saying that statement to Topper, and yet, he still seems hesitant. He clutches Eleanor tightly, as if the thought of separating from her is going to physically rip her from him. You glance over at Rafe, who shakes his head at you.

“I know you can, I just hate leaving her,” Topper mumbles, his eyes never leaving his daughter.

“I get that, man, but Y/N’s got this,” Rafe promises him, “A night of no spit-up is exactly what you need.”

Topper, who has spent the last two weeks moving into the guest house while also taking care of Eleanor, truly does need a night out. Kelce and Rafe volunteered the idea of drinks at the Club, and with Maddie out of town, Noah and Julian are with Maddie’s parents. You promised to watch Eleanor so Topper could go, and while he initially agreed, he seems unable to separate.

“Alright,” Topper declares, stepping toward you, “But, don’t forget that she cries if you take away her pink giraffe. And, she gets fussy around seven, but if you give her the purple pacifier—”

“Topper,” you groan, “I have two. I know. Now, go. Have fun.”

“Fine,” he grumbles, gazing longingly at Eleanor.

“Alright, kiddos, come give Daddy hugs,” you call over your shoulder.

Josie hops right up and sprints over to Rafe, who lifts her up with no challenge whatsoever.

“Wanna bring ice cream home?” Josie grins mischievously.

“Maybe,” Rafe whispers, “Only if you’re good for Mom, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” she nods.

“Alright. I love you, princess.”

“Love you, too,” she replies, hugging him tightly before he sets her down.

Connor hurries over to Rafe, who kneels and hugs him right away. You smile at the sight, loving their relationship. That smile drops when you think about whether or not adding another would be good for Connor’s sensitivity; what if he can’t understand? What if it’s too much for him, or he feels too disconnected from you or Rafe?

“Be good,” Rafe whispers to him, “Keep an eye on your sister.”

“I will,” Connor promises, “Love you.”

“I love you, too,” Rafe smiles.

“Uncle Top, you have to give hugs and kisses, too,” Josie demands, holding her arms up in expectation of being picked up.

“Yes ma’am,” Topper laughs, grabbing her and lifting her up.

She squeals when he kisses her cheeks repeatedly, then squeezes her tight. Eleanor stirs in your arms, so you rock her back and forth to try and relax her.

“Best behavior,” Josie lectures Topper.

He chuckles, “I promise, baby. Be good to Ellie, okay?”

“Okay,” she nods.

Topper kisses Josie once more, then sets her down. Connor steps over and gives Topper a hug, and the kids follow you to the door to wave goodbye to the men. Rafe wraps a gentle arm around you on the porch, then presses his lips to your temple.

“Call me if you need anything,” he lectures, “I’ll come right home.”

“I’ll be fine,” you promise him, “Have fun with them. Don’t worry about me.”

Rafe steps away, but shakes his head as he starts walking backward down the sidewalk, “I always worry about you, baby. Love me?”

“I love you,” you smile.

“I love you, too.”

“I love you, three,” Topper calls, “Thanks again, Y/N.”

“Have fun,” you yell, waving as they climb into Topper’s car.

Once the boys are gone, you corral the kids back inside. Josie, who obsesses over Eleanor, immediately wants to play, while Connor goes back to his puzzle.

The evening plays out as successfully as you could’ve hoped, and you’re almost sad when Josie falls asleep beside Eleanor, who is resting soundly in the pack ‘n play you’d set up just for her.

Connor comes over and crawls up on the couch, not even asking before he sits down in your lap. You welcome it and give him a smile, watching as he returns it.

“Mama?” he asks, his voice quiet.

“Yeah?”

“Is Aunt Sarah coming home for Christmas?”

You comb through his hair as you stare into his deep eyes, pursing your lips as you debate how to answer his question. The truth is, you have no idea. You haven't reached out to Sarah after what she’d had to say about you last time she was home, and no part of you wants to. You just hate that it has to impact the kids.

“I’m not sure, handsome,” you reply softly, “You miss her?”

He nods, “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

“It’s okay. At least we have baby Ellie.”

You smile, grateful for his big heart, and pull him tighter against you. It doesn’t take long for Connor to fall asleep, with you not far behind him. The worrying combined with babysitting — practicing for when you have to handle three, you try not to think — has exhausted you.

While you’d never meant to doze off, you also never thought you’d be waking up to someone banging on the front door. Your eyes open in a panic, and you gently remove Connor from your lap before standing up. The uneven banging continues, and you know Rafe and the boys would never do that because of the kids.

Hesitantly, you stand, hurrying to the foyer out of desperation for the sound to stop. You’re thankful Eleanor hasn’t started crying yet, but you’re sure she will if you don’t stop it. Glancing out the window, you grow frustrated when you realize that it’s Scott on your porch. He’s unbalanced, leaning on the door as he pounds on it.

Without another second wasted, you swing open the door to stop him. He tumbles forward, having been leaning all his weight on the door, and you have to reach out and grab him so he doesn’t fall to the floor.

“Oh, shit,” he mutters to himself, then laughs, “Whoops.”

You shut your eyes as Scott grips your hands, steadying himself before standing up straight. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, the shitty bar on his clothes, the cigarette smoke in his hair.

“Scott—”

“Lost my keys,” he tells you, slurring his words, “Couldn’t get the door open without my keys. Why are you holding my hands?”

You frown, “You’re drunk.”

He shakes his head, but the movement causes him to feel unsteady again, and he stumbles once more. You groan as you attempt to keep him upright, ignoring him when he starts to laugh at himself again.

“I am not,” he replies, “Just had a few. But I am not a lightweight.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter to yourself, then shake your head, “Scott, the kids are asleep.”

He chuckles, “I’m not gonna wake ‘em.”

You roll your eyes and debate what to do, trying to remember if the guest room is prepared for anyone to use. Deciding that it has to be, that you have no choice, you sigh.

“Alright, let’s just get you upstairs,” you say, pulling him toward you.

“No, wait,” he says, yanking his hands away from you, “Fuck, I lost my phone. I have to call her.”

You don’t bother asking who — given that you already know. You quickly figure out that Scott has done something to ruin his relationship with Mae, which has caused an apparent relapse in his drinking.

He’d been keeping himself under control for a few months now, and you’d been proud of him. Now, he’s taking three steps back.

“You can call her in the morning. Please, I don’t want you to wake—”

He attempts to side-step you, resulting in him stumbling, tripping over his own feet, and falling down on the floor. His hands fly out to try and brace himself, but the noise his body makes when he hits the hard wood is loud enough to wake even the best of sleepers.

You cover your face with your hands as Eleanor starts to cry in the living room, knowing she will also awaken both Josie and Connor.

“Shit,” Scott mumbles to himself, “You should really put a carpet here.”

He makes no motion to get up from where he lays in the middle of the foyer, and you don’t try to get him up. You take a deep breath and exhale slowly, trying to calm yourself.

“Mommy?”

You turn around and find Josie standing in the middle of the entryway, her tired eyes moving between you and her uncle.

“Josie! Hey, baby!” Scott cheers from the floor.

Confused, Josie looks back up at you. When she doesn’t find any source of direction, given that you feel completely frozen, she starts over to the two of you.

Instead of allowing her to step any closer, you move over and pick her up. Quickly, you turn her away, running a hand up and down her back to calm her.

“Let’s go take care of baby Ellie,” you say, giving her a smile, “Will you help me?”

“Sure, Mommy,” she replies, although you don’t miss the way she looks over her shoulder to steal another glance at Scott.

Connor is awake and standing over the pack ‘n play that Eleanor occupies when you get into the living room. You set Josie down and walk over to him, giving him a smile and a soft ‘thanks’ when he points down to the baby.

“Is Uncle Scott okay?” Connor asks, glancing heavily toward the foyer.

You swallow, “He’ll be just fine.”

He nods and watches as you grab Eleanor out, cradling her in your arms as you attempt to coax her back to sleep. You can hear Scott groan and yell for you from his place on the floor, but you pretend not to hear it.

You feel too many emotions to know how to handle all of them right now. Sure, Scott didn’t know you were watching the baby tonight. And, yes, you’re glad he came to you instead of passing out on the side of the road or in an unsafe situation. But for him to come here and pound on the door, drunk out of his mind, when he knows you have children? Who are both asleep at this hour? It makes you feel angry. Then, you switch to relieved, knowing he’s safe. Then, you decide you’re anxious, because you can’t take care of four people right now.

Your heart sinks when your mind tells you to call Rafe. You don’t want to — you want to handle it, to let him have his fun and keep Topper’s mind off of all the stress, but you know he will be sad if he comes home to you when you’re overwhelmed and upset and didn’t feel as if he would be of help.

Eleanor falls back to sleep relatively easily, which you’re thankful for. Connor sits down on the couch and Josie follows him, where she ultimately falls asleep with her head in his lap. You kiss Connor’s cheek, then grab your phone from the coffee table. It lights up right then with a new text from Rafe, one that has you letting out a breath of relief.

How’s everything? Can’t stop thinking about you.

You smile at the text, and for a brief moment, you want to suck it up. Then, Scott groans once again, and you drop your gaze back to the keyboard, staring at each individual letter as you prepare to let your husband down.

Can you come home?

Your thumb hovers over the send button for what feels like forever, and the second you press it, a shot of anxiety shoots through you. Even though you know he will with no hesitation, you hate having to ask. You hate being a potential burden.

He’s typing almost as soon as your test delivers to his screen.

Of course, baby. Is it urgent or just miss me?

You smile despite the situation, typing back quickly.

Not urgent but necessary. Scott showed up and woke up the kids. He’s drunk.

Rafe’s response is quick yet again.

Be home as soon as I can. Hang tight.

You let out a breath of relief, because you know he’s coming. Connor’s eyes are closed when you look over at him, so you feel comfortable stepping away from the kids to check on Scott. He’s sitting up now; his back is resting against the wall and his head is tipped back, like he’s prepared to sleep there.

“Scott,” you say softly, inching toward him.

His eyes open when he hears you, “Y/N, thank God. I’m gonna throw up.”

The mere mention of the action has your stomach turning. You swallow down the impulse, then reach for him.

“Let’s get you to the bathroom, then,” you try.

“Can’t,” he replies, “Your house is spinning.”

He starts to slide down the wall on his right side, but you don’t try to stop him. Instead, you watch as he collapses, unable to pick himself back up. He lets out a low groan as you turn on your heel, walking into the kitchen and getting an old grocery bag from the pantry for Scott to throw up in if need be.

Your hand meets your stomach before you leave the kitchen, and you catch yourself hoping that the pregnancy test shows a negative. Your heart sinks at the thought, at the blatant denial of wanting another child.

With another breath — because breathing seems to be all you can do — you walk back out to Scott and toss the plastic bag in his lap. You stare at him for a moment, and just as he turns his head to the side, you check your phone to find an empty lock screen.

The sound of Scott relieving his stomach of the alcohol he’d consumed draws you right out of your phone, just in time for you to notice that he doesn’t even bother using the bag you’d given him.

Your hardwood floors are ruined, you think.

“Scott—” you groan, but his sound is louder. It’s a mix between a sob and a grunt, but it all sounds sad to you.

“Fuck,” Scott swears, “Fuckin’ Mae. Why do I have to love her?”

You don’t reply, still too upset about the floor and him, and the kids, and the potential baby growing inside of you.

Scott’s eyes follow you as you step into the living room, checking on the kids. They’re all still sound asleep, which you’re relieved for.

“I know why,” he continues, “‘Cause she worked her magic on me. I’ll be in love with her forever. Wanna have babies with her. Y/N, should I have babies with Mae?”

You’re not sure if it’s your own anxiety projecting off of you, but when you look at your brother, and the state he’s in, you cross your arms defensively over your chest.

“No.”

His eyebrows furrow, and the expression that crosses his face borders on anger. You simply shrug, not defending or retracting your answer.

“Whatever,” Scott mutters, “Sorry I’m not as perfect as you.”

Your chest rises as you take in a steady, deep breath, trying your best not to react to that statement. Just as you open your mouth to speak, to try and defend yourself, you see the headlights on the car bringing your husband home as they reflect off the wall. Without a word to Scott, you walk over to the front door and open it just in time to see Rafe hopping out of his Uber.

You step out onto the porch, then down onto the sidewalk to get to him faster. His eyes never leave you as he approaches, scanning you for any potential physical issues as he opens his arms.

“Hey, sweetheart, you okay?” he asks you, his voice soft from the sympathy and alcohol coursing through his veins.

Tears well up in your eyes the second his familiar scent hits your nose. Between the kids, your anxiety about being pregnant, and Scott, you feel as if the world is crashing down on you. Before you can suck it up, and instead, blaming it on hormones, you accidentally let out a sob into his chest.

Rafe’s grip tightens around you and he squeezes — not too tight, but tight enough that you feel him trying to put the broken pieces back together.

“Talk to me,” he whispers into your hair, “I’m right here. I’m sorry I left. Tell me what’s going on in your head.”

“It’s too much, Rafe,” you mumble, trying your best to calm yourself.

“Okay, hey,” he coaxes you, pulling back and tipping your chin up so you’re looking directly at him, “Look at me. I’ll fix all of it. Just tell me the first thing you want me to handle.”

You pout, because of course he wants to swoop in and save the day. He always does, even if he doesn’t know it.

“No, I’m sorry,” you say, wiping your eyes, “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t you dare apologize to me,” he says, earning a small smile from you.

You nod in understanding, then sigh, “Scott’s in the middle of our foyer on the floor. He won’t get up, and he was just being kind of rude to me. He woke up all three kids and everything.”

Rafe listens, nodding his head and waiting for you to finish telling him about it. Then, he wraps your hand in his and nods his head toward the house.

“I’ll handle it. Come on.”

You follow him up the stairs to the porch, a certain peacefulness washing over you just due to Rafe’s presence.

“We just need to get him upstairs,” you say quietly.

Rafe doesn’t respond to you; instead, he guides you inside the house and releases you so you can close the front door. You watch as he walks over to Scott, who is still laying on his side and pressed against the wall. Rafe glances at the now stained hardwood floor and turns his nose up, but doesn’t say anything.

He doesn’t bother to hesitate for even one second. He touches his shoe to Scott’s chest and nudges him — not roughly, but not exactly gentle, either.

“Get up, Scott,” Rafe says loudly, “Don’t make me force you up.”

Scott groans, his eyes glued shut, “Go away.”

Rafe chuckles, but it sounds sarcastic and unforgiving. You draw back, knowing how this will end. Without word or warning, Rafe kneels down in front of Scott. Your brother’s eyes are still closed, so he doesn’t see how Rafe reaches around him and then grabs a fistful of the back collar of Scott’s tee shirt.

Rafe pulls him upright, eliciting a gasp from Scott’s lips. You watch Scott struggle to get his bearings, but you say nothing.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Scott exclaims, trying to brush Rafe off.

“Yeah, what the fuck,” Rafe repeats, “My kids are in this house. My wife is in this house. You think you can pass out on the floor in front of them?”

“Get off me,” Scott demands, but his words are still slurred and his actions are weighed down by the alcohol in his veins.

“No.”

“Cameron, I’m gonna—” Scott warns, covering his mouth with his hand.

Rafe rolls his eyes and starts forward, dragging Scott along toward the bathroom. He yanks him inside and closes the door, leaving you out in the living room with the three kids. Not sure of what else you should do, you quickly clean up Scott’s mess, then pick up Connor from his place on the couch and carry him upstairs to his bed. You come back down and do the same with Josie. Both of them are too far asleep to wake up as you do this, which you’re thankful for.

On your way back downstairs from Josie’s room, you find Rafe pulling Scott up the stairs. Scott refuses to lift his feet, reacting only when Rafe tugs on his shirt again.

“Come on, Scott, stop fucking around,” Rafe demands.

“I can’t—” Scott slurs, seeming that after he’s spilled his guts in your downstairs bathroom, he’s too tired to even climb the stairs, “Fuck— I can’t.”

“I’m not carrying you, so you don’t have a choice,” Rafe snaps back.

“Rafe,” you say quietly, hurrying down the stairs to meet them both.

Scott looks up at you when you set your hand on his arm, and you can see relief through his tired, drunk eyes.

“Y/N,” Scott whispers, immediately growing emotional, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m fucked up, I’m so fucked up—”

“Stop,” you demand quietly, letting him fall onto you in a hug, “It’s okay. Let’s just get you upstairs and you can sleep it off. Work with me, okay?”

He nods against you, and with the help of both you and Rafe, Scott makes it all the way up the stairs. You both guide him into the guest room, where he immediately collapses onto the bed without pulling the sheets back.

Rafe swears under his breath and shakes his head as he stares, while you move forward and untie Scott’s boots. When he starts to snore, you move his head onto the pillow and grab a spare blanket from the closet, then lay it over him.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Rafe coaxes you gently.

You stare at your brother for another few seconds, desperately wishing you could change things for him. You wonder what this means — will he apologize and then go back to the same behavior? Is he sick? Would you be a bitch to bring up AA meetings and programs that will help him stay sober? Does he even want to stay sober?

You follow Rafe down the stairs silently. He crosses the living room and checks on Eleanor, who is still sleeping soundly.

“Topper’s gonna have to crash on the couch,” Rafe says to you, “He and Kelce stayed behind. I didn’t want them to see Scott like that.”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

His eyes linger on you for far too long, watching you squirm under his gaze. He steps toward you and opens his arms, watching as you practically collapse into him.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You nod, “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

Choosing not to answer that, you opt to change the subject instead.

“I’m sorry about tonight. I just—”

“Don’t,” he says gently, “I would’ve been overwhelmed, too.”

“Thank you,” you repeat, needing for him to affirm that you’d done the right thing.

He squeezes you tighter and lets you cuddle into him for as long as you need to, not making any attempt to move or anything.

The room falls silent as he holds you. Your mind buzzes with questions, plans, and doubts as you press yourself further into Rafe, as if he can fix this, too. You wonder if you should sneak off and take the test now, or if you should wait until the morning. Above all else, you want to tell him. You want him to know, and you want him to be there when you find out.

“Rafe,” you say, feeling him shift as he looks down at you.

“Yeah?”

You swallow, “I have to tell you something.”

He nods his head as you pull back, looking up into his eyes. He doesn’t seem drunk in any capacity. Not even tipsy. You briefly wonder how much he drank tonight, if anything at all.

“Okay, what is it?”

You take a deep breath, the words leaving your lips right as you hear Topper at the front door, sticking his key in the lock and twisting it open.

“I think I might be pregnant.”

Rafe’s expression falls to shock as he stares at you, as if assessing your seriousness. His jaw is slack and his eyes are wide, but Topper enters the house and walks through the foyer before either of you can say another word.

“Hey,” Topper says casually, “How’d she do?”

You turn away from Rafe and give Topper a smile, watching as he leans over the pack ‘n play and smiles at Eleanor.

“She did great,” you promise him, “Um, Scott showed and kinda woke her up, but I got back to sleep pretty easily. He’s crashing upstairs, so the couch is all yours.”

He nods, “Sounds good to me. Thanks for letting us sleep here.”

“Yeah, of course—”

You stop speaking when Rafe’s hands fall from your waist, and he excuses himself to your bedroom without a word to either of you. Topper shrugs at the action and walks over to the couch, where he pulls out his phone as he gets comfortable.

You give Eleanor another quick check before whispering a ‘goodnight’ to Topper. Your anxiousness skyrockets as you walk toward your bedroom, not knowing how Rafe will react. You’re sure he’ll make you take the test, but you’re not sure what he wants the result to be.

When you enter your bedroom, Rafe is seated on the edge of your bed. His lips are parted and his eyes are glazed over as he comprehends what you’ve told him. He doesn’t look up when you enter; he doesn’t even seem to notice until you’re standing in front of him.

“Did you—” he starts, then stops and looks up at you, “Did you take a test?”

His voice is weak, hoarse, and you’re not used to it. He watches as you shake your head.

“No. I was going to, but I got nervous.”

He nods in understanding, but doesn’t speak. You’re now standing directly in front of him, but he hasn’t reached for you the way he always does.

You’re not sure what to say, and apparently, he isn’t either. His eyes are still wide, and you can see his mind going a mile a minute trying to make it all make sense. Desperate for him to vocalize those thoughts, you speak.

“Rafe,” you say softly, “I need you to say something.”

He sucks in a deep breath through his nose, then exhales through his lips. You chew on your bottom lip roughly, but relax a bit when he reaches forward and places his hands on your hips.

“Do you have a test here?”

You stare at him for a moment, having expected a little more comfort from him.

“Yes.”

He nods, “A few of them? Sometimes they can be wrong.”

You furrow your brows, unsure of what that means he’s thinking. You swallow and shake your head, struggling to find your voice.

“I have three. One of them is old, though.”

He nods again, but he seems deep in thought. As if at his mercy, you stand and wait for a response, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding when he squeezes your hip.

“Okay,” he says slowly, “Let’s go take one.”

He moves to stand, to drop his hands from your hips, but you stop him quickly.

“Wait,” you blurt, setting your hands on his shoulders, “I just— I’m freaked out, Rafe. You’re not saying anything.”

“What do you want me to say?”

You shake your head, “I don’t know. Something.”

“Okay,” he repeats, squeezing your hip again, “How about this? I love you. And I would like to know if we’re having another baby before I start worrying about if this is what you want, because you look like you’d rather set a match to our house than be pregnant right now.”

You attempt to draw back at his words, but his grip on your hips keeps you completely in place. You stare, wondering what exactly it is about your demeanor that is telling him how you feel without having to verbalize it.

“I’m scared,” you admit quietly, “We haven’t— I mean, you and me, we didn’t say—”

“I know, baby,” he nods, “Let’s get our answer before we talk about anything else, okay?”

As he takes in your concerned expression, his hands trail up your body slowly. He cups your cheeks in his palms and gives you a reassuring smile — one that seems to calm the deepest anxieties roaming around your chest.

“Okay,” you agree.

Rafe nods and leans forward, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead before he takes your hands and leads you to the bathroom. He watches patiently and silently as you retrieve one of the pregnancy tests from the drawer of your vanity, then gives you an encouraging nod and smile before you step over to the toilet.

He’s seated on the floor of your bathroom when you return with the test, which you promptly set down on the counter. His back is leaned up against the bathtub and he’s anxiously picking at his nails, but when he sees you, he stops and gives you a sympathetic, closed-mouth smile.

“You don’t want to be pregnant, do you?” he asks, phrasing it in a way that tells you he already knows the answer.

With a sigh, you sit down on the floor beside him, not surprised at all when he pulls your legs across his lap.

“Am I horrible if I say I don’t?” you ask quietly.

He shakes his head, “No. I don’t think that’s horrible at all. In fact, I think that’s very reasonable.”

“What do you want?”

“Easy,” he replies, his hands stroking up and down your bare legs, “I want whatever is best for this family. I want dinners at the table and scrounging up cash to pay babysitters and an empty fridge telling me that my kids’ stomachs are full. I’d do the whole baby thing again in a heartbeat, if it’s what you want. But, I know it’s not, and that’s completely okay.”

“Rafe,” you pout, but he shakes his head.

“You’re the one who does all the work, so you’re the one who makes the call. Whatever it says, we have options.”

You smile through your emotions and tug him closer, resting your head on his shoulder as he moves to kiss the top of your head. Although you still feel anxious about the result of the test, you no longer feel as if the task is insurmountable.

“Can you look?” you whisper to him after a few minutes, nodding to the test sitting on the counter.

“Yeah,” he replies, “Ready?”

You nod, but don’t speak. He gives your leg a gentle squeeze, silently telling you to pull them back so he can stand. You do, and you watch as he takes a deep breath before stepping over and picking up the test.

He stares at it for a long moment, too long, and you swear you can feel your heart racing in your chest.

He clears his throat, and his voice is hoarse as he says, “It’s negative.”

You let out a breath — one that holds relief, guilt, and sadness — and finally let the tears fall from your eyes. Rafe stands still, clutching the test, and watches as you brush tears from your cheeks.

“I should take another,” you say, “They’re not always accurate.”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly.

He hands you another test and watches as you escape, letting his eyes fall back onto the negative test. When you emerge a second time, Rafe’s now seated on the floor with the test in his hand, staring at it with zero expression.

“Are you—” you start, setting the new test down to wait on it, “Are you okay?”

He nods, but his expression doesn’t change, “Yeah.”

Your heart sinks into your stomach as you watch him, unable to read his mind or know exactly what he’s thinking.

“Are you mad that it’s negative?” you ask weakly.

His laugh is incredulous, and before you even realize he’s crying, Rafe angrily swipes tears from his cheeks, as if he can't believe they’re there in the first place.

“No,” he answers, “I’m not mad about anything. I just— I was thinking.”

You sit down beside him once more, but you don’t move to touch him. You let him shift his gaze from the test to you, where you smile sadly.

“About a third kid?”

“About our two kids,” he corrects, “About our family. About the way we work around each other. Maybe I’m selfish, but I don’t want that to change. And, yeah, I’d welcome a third baby, but I’m also content with what we have. You know what I mean?”

You extend a hand, then another, and soon, you’re pulling your husband into your arms. He comes to you without hesitation; wrapping his arms around you as he brings his head to your chest.

“Of course I do, Rafe,” you whisper to him, “You’re not selfish. Wanting what’s best for our children is not selfish.”

“You, too,” he says instantly, pulling back and looking up at you, “I want what’s best for you, too, sweetheart.”

You nod and lean down, pressing your lips to his without a second thought. You kiss him for a long minute, then pull back and look up at the counter.

“My turn to look,” you say, earning a small laugh from him.

Standing from his lap, you feel calmer as you approach the second test. Knowing that if you hesitate, you’ll stop, you pick it right up and look at it before you can talk yourself out of it.

You stare at the word for a second too long, letting the adrenaline settle and the ringing in your ears come to a halt before turning back to Rafe.

“Negative,” you say, letting out a last breath of relief.

Rafe nods and gives you a small smile, one that tells you that he’s okay, he’s just sorting through things in his mind, and he just needs a moment.

You toss the test into the trash can under your vanity, and when Rafe waves you over to sit with him one last time, you don’t even think about denying him.

“So,” he says with a puff of his cheeks once you’re settled in his lap, “What should we do from here?”

You furrow your brows, “What do you mean?”

Rafe lets out a small chuckle and pulls you closer, taking his time raking over your features before he bothers to explain.

“Well, our current method of birth control just scared the living shit out of you,” he explains, “So, what do you think we should do so that this doesn’t happen again?”

Your current method of birth control — or lack thereof — has always left a little room for error, but you know Rafe’s right. You don’t want to go on hoping that nothing will happen, because the both of you know all too well that things do, indeed, happen.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I could make an appointment and talk about birth control.”

He frowns, “Those hormones mess you up.”

Shrugging again, you try to play it off, “Yeah, but only for a little while. My body will adjust.”

“Or,” he says softly, so softly that he earns your eyes on his, “I could just get a vasectomy.”

Your eyes widen immediately, “A vasectomy?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, “It would take care of everything. You don’t have to pump yourself full of hormones, I don’t have to wear a condom, and we don’t have to worry about being pregnant again. And, it’s reversible if you change your mind.”

“If I change my— Rafe.”

He laughs again, and it’s like the anxiety from the past few hours just melts away. There’s no pregnancy tests, no drunk brother upstairs, no single parent with a baby on your couch. It suddenly feels like just the two of you, in love after years, and tangled together on the floor of your bathroom.

“I’m serious,” he presses, “It would solve all our problems, and you wouldn’t have to lift a finger.”

“But—” you stumble over your words, trying your best to digest his explanation and come up with a flaw, “Doesn’t that, like, hurt?”

He grins, “I don’t know, sweetheart. I can find out for you.”

“Rafe,” you repeat, eyes still wide.

He chuckles and kisses your forehead, watching as your mind works in overdrive to figure this all out.

“Just think about it. I think it’s our best option, but I can do some research on birth control if you’d prefer that route.”

You smile, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies, giving you a smile back, “Let’s take a shower and go to bed, okay?”

“Okay.”

Rafe offers his hands to you and helps you stand before moving to stand himself, then peels off his shirt. You do the same, and both of you toss the dirty clothes into your hamper at the same time.

“I’ve gotta rest before I deal with your brother in the morning,” he mutters, “How do you wanna move forward with that?”

“Josie saw him, Rafe. I could see how confused she was. He can’t—” you shake your head, then look back up to him, “Not around our children.”

He nods in understanding, “I agree. I’ll handle it.”

You pout at him, staring as he unbuckles his belt and starts to remove his pants. He catches your eye and raises a brow, now standing in just his boxers.

“You don’t have to handle everything, Mister I’ll get a vasectomy.”

Rafe laughs, “I know I don’t. We’ll do it together. Now, take your shorts off.”

You grin and do as you’re told, and when your shorts rest in the hamper with Rafe’s pants, he crosses the bathroom and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into him. You giggle and shake your head, watching as he silently questions what’s going on in your mind.

“A vasectomy,” you repeat, still trying to wrap your head around it.

He rolls his eyes playfully, “I’m gonna start the water.”

“Have you been thinking about doing that?” you question as he turns on the water.

He smirks when he turns back to face you, and you already know what he’s going to insinuate.

“There’s only one thing I’m thinking about doing right now,” he grins, “One person. So, could you get your mind off of the vasectomy and come take a shower with your husband?”

“I suppose,” you tease him, “But, what about—”

He smirks, “I’ll get a condom.”

You giggle and toss your underwear and bra into the hamper, then hurry into the shower. Rafe huffs audibly when he sees your undergarments in the laundry, having not stolen his glance like usual because he was busy riling through your vanity drawers to find a condom.

“Tease,” he mutters, tossing his boxers right beside your panties before he hops in the shower with you.

You wake in the morning with Rafe’s chest pressed against your bare back, his hands tangled in your own, and a smile on your face that you swear you must’ve woken up with. Sunlight streams in through your white curtains, and for a moment, you can’t believe that you both managed to sleep in. That is, until you remember that Topper stayed over, and you’re sure he’s playing babysitter to the kids.

“Rafe,” you whisper, bringing your tangled hands up to your lips and kissing his knuckles.

“Hmm,” he hums sleepily.

You smile, “Good morning.”

Although you can’t see him, you can hear the grin on his face.

“Good morning, baby,” he rasps, “Might have to hire Top full time if it means I get mornings in bed with you again.”

You laugh, turning around in his arms and facing him. His blue eyes peel open slowly, and the grin on his face only grows when you return his blissful expression.

“We should probably get out there,” you whisper.

He groans, “But it’s so warm and quiet in here.”

As if to prove his point, he tugs you closer under your shared comforter, then begins to press kisses down your exposed neck and collarbone.

“I know, but we have to be responsible parents,” you lecture him.

He smirks against your skin, “Do we?”

“Yes.”

Rafe laughs and pulls back, nodding you in for a kiss without a word. You comply, and soon, you feel lost in him.

It isn’t until his hands start to wander, until you feel as if you really could stay in bed with him all day if he asked you to, that you pull back.

“Alright, fine,” he sighs, “Up you go, baby.”

You smile and sit up, stretching out while Rafe stands from the bed and crosses to the dresser. He slides a pair of boxers on, then grabs one of his shirts and tosses it over to you. Without even being asked, he then steps to your side of the dresser and tosses you a pair of shorts, already knowing you won’t want Scott and Topper to see you in his boxers.

You dress and climb out of bed, following Rafe into the bathroom. The two of you brush your teeth while he pinches your hips, loving how you squeal and playfully swat him away. You make Rafe wait for you to use the restroom, and he cracks up when you cheer that you did, in fact, get your period overnight.

The two of you are still giggling like teenagers as you walk out to the living room, finding Topper, Josie, Connor, and Eleanor together on the couch. Topper holds Eleanor in one arm and has the other around Josie, who is cuddled into his side. Connor sits beside his sister, and they all seem content watching TV.

“Morning,” Topper greets.

Rafe chuckles, “Morning, Top.”

“Hi, Daddy,” Josie chirps, “Hi, Mama.”

“Morning, princess,” Rafe replies, raising a brow when she makes no attempt to move from her current seat, “Can I get a hug?”

“I’m comfy,” she answers, cuddling deeper into Topper’s side and earning a laugh from her uncle.

Connor chuckles at his sister, then gets up off the couch and walks over to you and Rafe. He watches his dad kneel before giving him a hug, then doing the same to you.

“Hey, Mama,” Connor greets you.

“Hi, baby.” you smile, “How’d you sleep?”

“Good. Think we could make pancakes for breakfast?”

“We definitely can,” you nod, “Has anyone seen Scott yet?”

Josie looks over, her eyes containing the same hesitance they held last night when she saw him on the floor of the foyer.

“Is Uncle Scott gonna be weird again?” she asks.

Rafe’s jaw clenches, and you don’t miss the sight out of the corner of your eye. You plaster a smile on and hold out your hand, signaling for Josie to come with you and Connor.

“Let’s go start pancakes,” you say, “Top, wanna help?”

“Yeah, of course. Come on, Jo. You can teach Ellie how you like to decorate them.”

Josie smiles and nods happily, following Topper into the kitchen while you guide Connor in. Rafe, looking at you and communicating wordlessly, nods his head toward the stairs, telling you he’s going to deal with Scott.

Climbing the stairs, Rafe doesn’t even have to think about what he’s going to say. The expression on his daughter's face, coupled with the fact that his wife felt the need to call him home last night, fuels him enough.

When he reaches the door of his guest room, in his house, he knocks exactly one second before he opens the door. As he expected, Scott is sprawled across the mattress in only his underwear, having apparently stripped in the middle of the night. Rafe shakes his head before he pushes Scott, trying to wake him.

“Scott, get up,” Rafe demands.

Scott doesn’t budge. Rafe pushes on him again, watching as he shifts, turning completely on his side.

With another push, Scott grunts, but Rafe doesn’t give up in the slightest.

“Scott,” Rafe repeats, “Wake the fuck up.”

“Fuck off, Cameron,” Scott groans, burying his head in his pillow, “Just let me sleep it off.”

“No,” Rafe replies, “I’m not playing around. Sit up.”

“Go away.”

“Sit up.”

“Dude—”

“Sit up, Scott. Now.”

Scott grunts and groans, but when he turns to lay on his back, Rafe relaxes slightly. His hands meet his hips as Scott pushes himself up, resting his bare back against the headboard.

“Fine,” he snaps, “What the fuck do you want?”

“What do I want?” Rafe questions, laughing incredulously, “I want you to get up and get out of my house. I’m serious. Get up, get dressed, and go. Don’t say anything to the kids, because they’ll ask you to stay. Get out.”

“Y/N’s letting you kick me out?” Scott questions in disbelief.

“Letting me?” Rafe repeats him again, “Scott, my fucking children saw you drunk off your ass, practically passed out on the floor of our home. You threw up on my fucking floor. My wife had to call me to come home because she was taking care of your ass on top of three children. You crossed a line. You don’t even seem sorry about it.”

“Of course I’m sorry about it, you asshole,” Scott fires back, “I would never want the kids to see me like that. It won’t happen again.”

“You’ve already used that line on me,” Rafe snaps, “You said after Josie’s birthday party that it would never happen again. I don’t want this behavior around my kids. So, get up, and go get some help.”

“What, you want me to check myself into rehab?” Scott chuckles, but Rafe’s expression remains unchanged.

“If it means you won’t be harming my family with your drinking, yes,” Rafe nods once.

“Dude, be serious.”

“I am,” Rafe presses, “You were doing so well, man. But this little episode just shows everyone that you can’t control yourself. You’re impulsive and reckless and—”

“An alcoholic,” Scott finishes, narrowing his eyes at Rafe, “I’m not going to rehab.”

Rafe bends down and picks Scott’s jeans off the floor. Without missing a beat, he shrugs and tosses the pants at him, then takes a step toward the door.

“Then you’re not watching my kids,” Rafe replies, “Now, go.”

Wide eyed, Scott opens his mouth to speak, but Rafe turns and exits the room. He makes it to the top of the stairs before Scott comes bursting out of the guest room with his jeans on, unbuttoned at the top and sagging on his hips because he doesn’t have his belt on.

“Whoa, Rafe, you can’t just take the kids away from me,” Scott protests, stopping Rafe in his tracks.

“My kids?” Rafe raises a brow.

“I love them,” Scott replies, his voice heavy with emotion, “I love those kids and I would never do anything to jeopardize my relationship with them. You should fucking know that by now.”

“They both saw you, Scott!” Rafe exclaims, “They’re too young to understand it. Love has nothing to do with this—”

“Knock it off, Cameron. You’re taking all of Sarah’s bullshit out on me. You can’t keep banning people from seeing the kids—”

“They’re our kids!”

“Guys!” you yell from the bottom of the stairs, giving them wide, angry eyes, “Enough.”

“Y/N,” Scott says, sidestepping Rafe and hurrying down the stairs, a pleading look in his eye, “Please don’t take the kids from me. I messed up, okay, I know, but I’ll go to the AA meetings. I’ll get sober and everything. Just— please.”

You frown, looking between Scott and Rafe in an attempt to figure out how you should respond. Ultimately, you nod to your brother, but raise a pointed finger.

“Do not make me regret this,” you whisper.

He nods, “No, I promise.”

Before any of the three of you can say another word, Topper’s voice is heard in the doorway of the kitchen.

“No, Jo, come on, let’s stay—”

Josie comes running around the corner and through the doorway, where she comes face to face with Scott. For a second, neither of them say anything. Then, Scott sinks to his knees and swallows roughly.

“Josie, I am so, so sorry—”

She cuts him off by running over to him and diving into his arms, where Scott doesn’t waste a single second pulling her close. You watch as he embraces her, even noticing the tears that have welled up in his eyes.

“Uncle Top says you’re sick,” Josie tells him, “Want me to make you some soup?”

Scott laughs, but his emotion is evident, “No, thank you, lovebug. I am sick, but I’m gonna get better. For you and Connor.”

Josie pulls back and looks him in the eye, clearly taking his words to heart. You silently pray that he doesn’t let her down.

“Promise?”

“I promise,” Scott replies.

Connor appears in the doorway then, standing behind Topper as you’re sure he was instructed to do when Topper told the kids to stay in the kitchen and let the three of you talk. Scott catches his eye and waves him over, watching as Connor hesitantly listens.

“Hey, buddy,” Scott greets him, pulling him into a hug, “I’m sorry about last night. I made a mistake. Do you think you can forgive me?”

“Yeah,” Connor replies with a nod.

Scott smiles, “Thank you. I love both of you so much.”

“Love you, too,” Connor answers.

“Love you, Uncle Scott,” Josie chirps.

Scott hugs both kids at once, seemingly reluctant to pull back and let them go.

Rafe, who still seems reluctant, keeps his arms crossed over his chest as he watches the interaction.

Josie, always the first to bounce back, gives Scott a big smile as she starts to jump up and down.

“Can you stay for breakfast? I can make you pancakes!” she offers.

Scott chuckles and looks back at Rafe, who had previously told him that he couldn’t stay to eat. Rafe gives Scott one single head nod, which Scott takes as a win.

“I’d love to stay for breakfast, lovebug. We can put a thousand chocolate chips in our pancakes, how’s that sound?”

“Amazing!” Josie exclaims, “Let’s go!”

“Alright,” Scott grins, “Come on, Little Cam.”

He scoops up Josie and then reaches out for Connor’s hand, taking both kids into the kitchen. Topper looks between you and Rafe, all three of you communicating wordlessly. Then, he does the one thing that he knows will make you feel better.

“Wanna hold Ellie for a bit, Cameron?”

Rafe breaks immediately and smiles, “Sure.”

Cradling baby Ellie, Rafe nods his head for you to follow him into the kitchen, where both of you watch your kids cook breakfast with their uncles. Scott makes coffee and passes it out, then wastes no time conspiring with Josie to smuggle more chocolate chips into the pancake batter every time Topper and Connor turn their backs.

Rafe turns to you after a few minutes, keeping his eyes down.

“Do you think I was too hard on him?”

You glance over at Scott, who is too busy spraying whipped cream into Josie’s mouth to care about your conversation.

“Whatever you said, it worked,” you admit, “He seemed serious.”

“I think that’s part of the disease,” Rafe says quietly, his frown evident, “He thinks he can get himself under control. Until something stressful comes up, and he turns back to it.”

You nod in understanding and look at your brother once more, wishing that smile could stay on his face forever.

“Day by day,” you sigh, “Let’s just take it easy for now. We’ll handle things as they come.”

“Alright. I’m fine with that. But, he slips up again, I’m gonna get your dad involved,” Rafe presses, watching you nod, “And I won’t apologize for it, either.”

“That’s fair.”

Rafe leans over and kisses your temple, then offers you a turn holding Eleanor. As you take her into your arms, you smile, then kiss her tiny forehead. She grins, and the sight makes you smile.

“Vasectomy, huh?” Rafe whispers, teasing you.

“Ha ha,” you reply.

He laughs and pulls you into his chest, careful of the baby. When breakfast is served, complete with more chocolate chips and whipped cream than you could ever imagine, you just smile, because even though you know things are messy, there’s still so much love at your dining room table. That’s all you could have ever hoped for, and you smile because you get to do it all with him.

*i no longer use a tag list. follow @mackupdates for updates! <3 thank you for reading!

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