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SUMMARY: A harmless family dynamic where Gavin is the “fun parent” and YN is the stricter one slowly creates an unhealthy imbalance.
WARNINGS: Child tantrum, minor injury, emotional hurt, family conflict, discipline, angst with comfort, happy ending.
Requested: Gavin Mckenna + one parent accidentally becomes the fun parent
At first, it was funny.
Gavin was the fun parent.
You were the one who remembered bedtime, vegetables, clean clothes, doctor’s appointments, and the fact that Mason Rhys McKenna could not survive solely on dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets no matter how passionately he argued otherwise.
Gavin was the one who built forts in the living room.
He let Mason jump from couch cushion to couch cushion while pretending the carpet was lava. He added extra chocolate chips to pancakes. He turned bath time into naval warfare and somehow managed to make brushing teeth into a game involving a stuffed bear and a dramatic countdown.
You loved watching them together, you loved how Mason’s entire face lit up when Gavin came home, you loved hearing their laughter from another room.
You even loved the way Gavin would glance at you afterward, grinning like he had personally invented fatherhood.
The teasing had become normal.
“Mommy said no,” Mason would complain.
Gavin would gasp theatrically “She did?”
You would look over from the kitchen, Gavin would immediately clear his throat “Then the answer is no, buddy.”
Mason would pout, Gavin would whisper, far too loudly, “We can try again tomorrow.”
You would throw a dish towel at him, it had been harmless. At least, that was what you told yourself.
You were the practical parent, Gavin was the exciting one.
You packed snacks while he planned adventures, you checked the weather while he promised a trip to the park, you set limits while he found ways to make those limits feel less disappointing.
It worked. Until it didn’t.
The change was small at first.
Mason began running to Gavin whenever you told him no.
If you said he could not have another cookie, he asked Daddy, if you said it was time to put his toys away, he waited for Gavin to turn cleanup into a race, if you told him it was bedtime, he called for his father as though Gavin might overturn the decision.
Most of the time, Gavin backed you up.
But sometimes he laughed, sometimes he softened the rule after seeing Mason’s pout, sometimes he gave him five more minutes, one more story, or half of the treat you had already refused.
You knew Gavin did not mean anything by it, he loved making Mason happy. That was all.
Still, each time Mason looked at you as though you were the obstacle standing between him and happiness, something inside you tightened.
It came to a head on a rainy Sunday afternoon.
Gavin had been away for several days, and Mason had spent the entire week asking when he would be home.
You had handled everything alone, the tantrum in the supermarket, the wet bed at two in the morning, the nightmare that left Mason clinging to you until sunrise.
The phone call from preschool because he had pushed another child after they took one of his crayons.
You had spoken gently to him, corrected him, comforted him, and loved him through all of it.
By the time Gavin came home, you were exhausted, Mason ran toward him the second the front door opened “Daddy!”
Gavin barely had time to drop his bag before Mason launched himself into his arms “Hey, buddy.”
He lifted him easily, laughing as Mason wrapped himself around him. You stood near the kitchen doorway, watching them, Gavin looked over Mason’s shoulder. His smile softened “Hi baby.”
“Hi.”
He walked toward you and leaned down for a kiss, but Mason immediately pushed at his chest “No. Daddy’s mine.”
Gavin laughed “I think I can say hello to Mommy.”
Mason tightened his arms around Gavin’s neck “You were gone forever.”
“Four days.”
“Forever.”
Gavin kissed the side of his head “I missed you too.”
You looked away before either of them could notice the strange ache that settled behind your ribs.
Of course Mason had missed him, it did not mean anything.
That evening, Gavin suggested a movie night, he ordered pizza, dragged blankets into the living room, and let Mason choose the movie.
Mason selected one he had already seen enough times to quote every line while Gavin arranged the couch cushions on the floor, Mason ran to the toy basket and began pulling everything out.
Cars, blocks, plastic animals, a foam hockey stick, ahard plastic dinosaur Gavin had bought him during their last trip together “Mason,” you said, “you need to put some of those back before dinner.”
“I’m playing.”
“You can play with one thing. The rest need to go away.”
“No.”
You paused, across the room, Gavin looked up “Mase,” he said lightly. “Listen to Mommy.”
Mason clutched the dinosaur against his chest “I want all of them.”
“You aren’t using all of them.”
“Yes, I am.”
“You’re not,” you said. “Choose one toy, then clean up the rest.”
His face scrunched “No!”
“Mason.”
“I said no!”
Your patience, already thin from the week, strained further, you crouched beside him “We do not yell at Mommy. You can be upset, but you still need to clean up.”
Mason looked toward Gavin “Daddy, tell her.”
Gavin hesitated, it lasted less than a second. But you noticed and Mason did too “Daddy,” he repeated. “Tell her I can keep them.”
Gavin sat back on his heels “Mommy already told you what to do.”
Mason’s expression changed instantly, the betrayal in it would have been almost funny if you had not been so tired “You’re supposed to be fun.”
Gavin’s mouth opened slightly, you reached for one of the cars beside Mason “Come on. I’ll help you start.”
Mason slapped your hand away “Don’t!”
You froze and Gavin’s expression hardened “Mason.”
But Mason was already spiraling, he grabbed the plastic dinosaur with both hands “I hate when you ruin everything!”
Then he threw it, you barely had time to turn. The dinosaur struck you high on the cheek, close to your eye, with a sharp crack, pain exploded across the side of your face.
You stumbled backward, one hand flying to your cheek, the room went silent. Mason stared at you, his anger vanished so quickly it was almost frightening.
Gavin was on his feet immediately “Mason Rhys McKenna.”
His voice was low, not loud, not furious. Somehow, that made it worse.
Mason’s bottom lip trembled “I—”
“Go to your room.”
Mason’s eyes widened “But Daddy—”
“Now.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Upstairs. Right now.”
Mason looked at you, then back at Gavin, for once, Gavin did not soften. He did not offer a joke, he did not turn it into a game or give him another chance to avoid the consequence
“Go.”
Mason burst into tears and ran toward the stairs, his footsteps pounded against the floor before his bedroom door slammed shut.
Gavin did not follow him, at least not immediately. The second Mason was gone, Gavin turned to you, his entire expression changed “Let me see.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re not.”
He crossed the room and gently took your wrist, lowering your hand from your face, a red mark was already forming along your cheekbone.
Gavin’s jaw tightened, his fingers hovered near the injury without touching it “Did it get your eye?”
“No.”
“Can you see properly?”
“Yes.”
“Are you dizzy?”
“Gavin.”
“Are you dizzy?”
“No.”
His shoulders lowered slightly, but the tension did not leave him, he guided you toward the couch “Sit down.”
“It’s fine.”
“Please sit down.”
There was something in his voice that made you listen so you sat, Gavin knelt in front of you, one hand settling carefully on your knee. For several seconds, he only looked at you.
The anger in his face had given way to guilt, you recognized it immediately “Don’t,” you whispered.
His brow furrowed “Don’t what?”
“Blame yourself.”
“He threw something at you.”
“He’s little.”
“He knew enough to throw it because he was angry.”
“He didn’t mean to hurt me.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
“I know.”
Gavin looked toward the stairs, from above, you could hear Mason crying. It tore at you despite the throbbing pain in your face “You should go to him.”
Gavin looked back at you “Not until I know you’re okay.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re shaking.”
You looked down, your hands were trembling in your lap, you curled them together “It scared me.”
Gavin’s face crumpled for a moment, he stood and went to the freezer, returning with an ice pack wrapped in a dish towel. He sat beside you and gently held it against your cheek, you flinched
“Sorry.”
“It’s cold.”
His free hand settled at the back of your neck “I’m so sorry.”
“You didn’t throw it.”
“No, but I helped create this.”
“Gavin—”
“I did.”
You looked at him, his eyes were fixed on the mark on your face.
“I made it seem like you were the one who ruined things,” he said quietly. “Every time I laughed when he complained about your rules. Every time I gave him something after you said no. Every time I made myself the escape from you being the responsible parent.”
“You never told him not to respect me.”
“I showed him that your decisions could be negotiated if he came to me.”
You swallowed, the honesty hurt almost as much as the toy had “You were trying to make him happy.”
“And I made your job harder.”
The crying upstairs became quieter, Gavin lowered the ice pack slightly “Is your face still hurting?”
“Yes.”
His eyes closed briefly “I need to talk to him.”
You nodded.
Gavin stood, then leaned down and kissed the uninjured side of your forehead “I’m not leaving because you matter less.”
“I know.”
“I just need to make sure he understands.”
“I know.”
He hesitated before walking upstairs, you remained on the couch, holding the ice pack against your cheek.
The movie menu continued playing in the background, cheerful music looping through the room in sharp contrast to the heaviness in your chest.
Upstairs, Gavin stopped outside Mason’s bedroom, he knocked once, Mason did not answer so he opened the door.
Mason was curled in the corner of his bed, clutching his blanket beneath his chin.
His face was red from crying, the second he saw Gavin, he began sobbing again “I’m sorry.”
Gavin closed the door behind him, he did not go directly to the bed. Instead, he sat on the floor a few feet away “Mason.”
“I didn’t mean to hit Mommy.”
“But you did.”
Mason’s crying hitched, Gavin kept his voice steady “You were angry, and you threw something at her.”
“I wanted her to stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Telling me no.”
Gavin stared at him, then he nodded slowly “You wanted Mommy to stop being your parent.”
Mason looked confused “No.”
“Yes, buddy. You wanted her to stop setting a rule because you didn’t like it.”
Mason wiped his face against the blanket “You let me have fun.”
Gavin’s chest tightened “Mommy lets you have fun.”
“She says no.”
“So do I.”
“Not as much.”
“That’s because I haven’t been doing my job properly.”
Mason stared at him, Gavin moved closer, but he did not lift him into his arms. Not yet.
“I like making you happy,” Gavin said. “I like playing with you and giving you treats and making silly rules for our games.”
Mason sniffled
“But I made a mistake.”
“You did?”
“Yes.” Gavin rested his arms on his knees “I made you think Mommy was the bad parent because she tells you when something isn’t safe, healthy, or allowed.”
Mason looked down “She makes me clean.”
“So do I.”
“You make it a race.”
“That doesn’t mean the rule belongs only to her.”
Mason’s fingers tightened around the blanket “I was mad at mommy.”
“You are allowed to be mad.” Gavin’s voice became firmer “but are not allowed to hurt her.”
“I said sorry.”
“You haven’t said sorry to Mommy yet.”
Mason began to cry again “I don’t want her to be sad.”
“She is sad.” The words were difficult to say, but Gavin did not soften them “She is hurt, Mason. Not just on her face.”
Mason’s eyes filled with fresh tears “I love Mommy.”
“Then you need to understand something.” Gavin leaned closer “Loving and respecting Mommy is not a choice.”
Mason stared at him.
“It is not something you only do when she gives you what you want,” Gavin continued. “You do not get to be kind to her only when she says yes. You do not get to decide she matters less because she is the one who takes care of the difficult things.”
“I don’t think she matters less.”
“You treated her like she did.”
Mason’s face crumpled.
Gavin hated the pain on his son’s face but he hated the red mark on yours more. He hated knowing Mason had looked to him for permission to ignore you.
“You asked me to tell Mommy she was wrong,” Gavin said. “Then when I didn’t, you hurt her.”
“I didn’t want to hit her face.”
“What did you want?”
Mason had no answer, Gavin waited. Finally, Mason whispered, “I wanted her to know I was mad.”
“You can say you’re mad.” Mason nodded.
“You can cry.” Another nod.
“You can ask for space.” Mason wiped his eyes “But you never throw things at people. Especially not Mommy.”
“I’m sorry.”
Gavin’s voice softened slightly “I know you are.”
“Does Mommy still love me?”
The question nearly broke him, Gavin moved onto the bed and finally pulled Mason into his arms, Mason buried his face in his chest “Mommy will always love you.”
“Even now?”
“Even now.” Gavin rubbed his back “But loving you does not mean pretending what you did was okay.”
Mason cried against him “I’m bad.”
“No.” Gavin pulled back enough to look at him “You did something bad. That does not make you bad.”
Mason’s lower lip trembled.
“You made a hurtful choice. Now you need to make a better one.”
“How?”
“You apologize to Mommy.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“Will you come?”
“Yes.”
Gavin carried him downstairs, Mason clung to his neck the entire way, but when they reached the living room, Gavin set him on his feet.
You were still sitting on the couch, the ice pack rested against your cheek, the mark had darkened.
Mason saw it and stopped moving, his face collapsed “Mommy.”
You lowered the ice pack “Hi, baby.”
Mason rushed toward you, then abruptly stopped before touching you “Can I hug you?”
Your eyes burned “Yes baby”
He climbed carefully into your lap and wrapped his arms around your neck “I’m sorry I threw the dinosaur.”
You held him tightly.
“I’m sorry I hurt your face.”
“I know.”
“I was mad because you said no.”
“I know.”
“But I can’t hurt you.”
“No, you can’t.”
He pulled back, tears running down his cheeks “Daddy said loving and respecting you isn’t a choice.”
You looked at Gavin, he stood several feet away, watching both of you “That’s right,” you said.
“I love you even when you say no.” Your throat tightened, Mason touched the edge of the ice pack carefully “Does it hurt?”
“A little.”
His face crumpled again, you pulled him back against you “But I’m going to be okay.”
“I won’t throw things anymore.”
“You need to work very hard to remember that.”
“I will.”
Gavin finally came closer and crouched in front of you “Mason,” he said, “you’re going to help clean up every toy you took out.”
Mason nodded immediately.
“And the dinosaur is going away for a while.” Another nod.
“No movie tonight.”
Mason’s face fell “But—”
Gavin raised an eyebrow, Mason looked at you then he lowered his head “Okay.”
You ran a hand through his hair “You can sit with us after you clean up.”
“But no movie,” Gavin said.
Mason nodded again “I understand.”
For the first time, Gavin did not try to make the consequence smaller.
Later, after Mason had cleaned the living room and fallen asleep upstairs, Gavin found you standing in the bathroom, studying the bruise that had begun to form on your cheek.
He stood behind you in the mirror “It looks worse.”
“It always does before it gets better.”
His jaw tightened, You turned “He’s asleep.”
“I checked twice.”
You leaned back against the counter “He feels awful.”
“He should.”
“Gavin.”
“I don’t mean forever.” His voice broke slightly. “But he should understand that he hurt you.”
“He does.”
Gavin stepped closer “I should have stopped this sooner.”
You sighed “You didn’t know it would get this far.”
“I knew he was starting to treat you differently.”
That silenced you, Gavin looked ashamed “I saw him run to me every time you said no. I saw the way he looked at you when I changed a rule.”
“Then why didn’t you do anything?”
The question slipped out before you could stop it, Gavin flinched and you immediately regretted it.
But the hurt was already there.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I liked being the one he wanted.”
Your eyes filled, Gavin continued before he lost the courage.
“I’m gone so much. When I come home, I want him to be excited. I want him to think being with me is special.”
“You are special to him.”
“I know.” He looked down “But I let that matter more than making sure he respected you.”
You folded your arms around yourself “I don’t want him to see me as the person who ruins everything.”
“He won’t.”
“He already did tonight.”
Gavin moved closer “Then I’ll help fix it.”
“How?”
“By being his father, not just his favorite playmate.”
You looked at him.
“I’m going to say no,” Gavin continued. “I’m going to enforce bedtime and make him clean up. When you set a rule, I’m not going to soften it because he looks disappointed.”
A tear slipped down your cheek.
Gavin carefully wiped it away, avoiding the bruise “And I’m never going to laugh when he treats you like the enemy again.”
You leaned into his hand “I don’t want you to stop having fun with him.”
“I won’t.”
“Being the fun parent isn’t bad.”
“No,” Gavin said. “But making you the unfun parent was.”
Your face crumpled, he pulled you into his arms. You rested your forehead against his chest, careful not to press your cheek against him “I hated the way he looked at me.”
“I know.”
“Like I was ruining everything.”
“You hold everything together.”
“That isn’t the same as being loved.”
Gavin tightened his arms around you “He loves you.”
“I know he does.”
“But tonight it didn’t feel like it.” You nodded against him, Gavin kissed the top of your head “I love you.”
You closed your eyes.
“And respecting you is not optional for me either.”
A broken laugh escaped you “That was intense.”
“He threw a dinosaur at your face.”
“It was a very emotional dinosaur.”
Gavin pulled back enough to look at you, for the first time that evening, the corner of his mouth lifted “You’re still making jokes.”
“I’m trying.”
His expression softened, he cupped the uninjured side of your face “You’re allowed to be hurt.”
“I know.”
“You’re allowed to be angry at me.”
“I’m not angry.”
“You should be a little.”
You looked at him for a long moment “I’m hurt that it took this for you to notice.”
Gavin nodded “I know.”
“But I believe you’ll fix it.”
“I will.”
The next morning, Mason appeared in the bedroom doorway carrying a piece of paper.
You were still in bed, Gavin had woken before you and was sitting beside you, scrolling through his phone.
Mason climbed onto the mattress “I made Mommy something.”
You sat up carefully, he handed you the paper, it was a drawing of three stick figures holding hands beneath a large yellow sun.
One had Gavin’s messy hair, one had Mason’s favorite blue shirt. The figure in the middle wore a crooked crown “That’s you,” Mason explained.
“I’m wearing a crown?”
“Because you’re the best mommy.”
Your eyes filled instantly, Gavin turned his face away, pretending to inspect the nightstand.
Mason touched your bruised cheek very gently “I’m sorry again.”
You kissed his palm “Thank you for apologizing baby.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
He looked at Gavin “Can we have pancakes?”
Gavin put his phone down “Yes.”
Mason brightened “With chocolate chips?”
“After you help Mommy make your bed.” Mason stared at him, you stared at him too, Gavin remained completely serious “Both sides,” he added. “And you’re putting your pajamas in the laundry basket.”
Mason frowned “You’re not fun anymore.”
Gavin reached over and tickled his side, Mason squealed “I’m still fun,” Gavin said. “I’m also your dad.”
Mason escaped his hands and crawled into your lap “Mommy is fun too.”
Gavin looked at you “Yes,” he said quietly. “She is.”
Mason rested his head against your chest “And I love her even when she says no.”
Gavin leaned over and kissed your forehead “That’s my boy.”
SUMMARY: After a cruel social media rumor claims that Josh is unhappy in their marriage and that having three children has “aged” YN, her confidence begins to crumble. Things become worse when six-year-old Miles sees one of the videos and starts questioning whether his father plans to leave.
WC: 6.1k
WARNINGS: Age-gap mentions, social media harassment, body-image insecurities, postpartum body discussion, motherhood struggles, cruel comments about aging and appearance, marital insecurity, child overhearing upsetting rumors, crying, emotional distress, and hurt/comfort.
Requested: Josh Manson + Social media starts a rumor that destroys your confidence.
The rumor started with a photograph taken on your twenty-eighth birthday.
Not during the small breakfast Josh and the boys had attempted to make for you that morning, when Miles proudly carried a plate of slightly burned pancakes into the bedroom while Noah dragged a balloon behind him and Jude sat on Josh’s hip, clapping because everyone else was excited.
Not when Josh handed you a thin gold necklace with four tiny charms—an initial for each of your boys, including his—and watched nervously as you opened it.
Not when he kissed you in the kitchen while Miles complained loudly that birthdays were supposed to involve cake, not “gross married stuff.”
The picture appeared later that night.
Josh had planned a dinner for the two of you at one of your favorite restaurants in Denver. It was the first proper date you had managed in weeks. Between Josh’s schedule, Miles’s school, Noah’s determination to climb every piece of furniture in the house, and Jude still waking during the night, time alone had become increasingly rare.
Your mother had offered to watch the children, but Jude had cried as soon as you placed him in her arms. You had nearly canceled. Josh had stood by the front door in his dress shirt, patiently waiting while you walked Jude around the living room and tried to calm him.
“We can stay home,” you had said.
Josh had shaken his head “You’ve been looking forward to this all week.”
“He’s upset.”
“He’ll be okay.”
“What if he isn’t?”
“Then your mom will call us, and we’ll come back.”
You had looked down at Jude, who was clutching the neckline of your dress with one tiny fist. Josh moved closer and rubbed a hand over Jude’s back “Buddy, I already made reservations. You can’t ruin my marriage like this.”
Your mother laughed from the couch, You gave Josh an unimpressed look “He’s one.”
“He knows exactly what he’s doing.” Eventually, Jude settled enough for you to leave.
Dinner had been wonderful.
Josh made you put your phone away so you couldn’t check the baby monitor application every three minutes. He ordered dessert without asking because he knew which one you wanted. He listened while you talked about Miles struggling with reading aloud in class and Noah refusing to use any cup that wasn’t blue.
There had been no argument.
No tension.
No sign that your marriage was falling apart.
But when you left the restaurant, your mother called to tell you Jude had woken up and wouldn’t settle. You were already worried as you stepped onto the sidewalk.
Josh took your hand while answering your mother’s questions through the car’s speaker. He walked slightly ahead because a photographer had appeared near the curb, and he was trying to guide you around him without causing a scene.
The photograph captured only one second, Josh was looking forward with a tense expression. You were behind him, your hand still in his, looking down at your phone.
By the following morning, the image had been reposted by several hockey gossip accounts.
The first caption was relatively harmless.
Trouble in paradise? Josh Manson and his wife look tense after her birthday dinner.
You rolled your eyes when your friend sent it to you. Apparently we’re getting divorced because Jude woke up, you replied.
She responded with three laughing emojis and told you to ignore it.
You intended to.
Then another account reposted the photo beside an older one from the beginning of your relationship.
You were twenty-one in that picture, standing beside Josh at an offseason event. Your face was rounder, your hair was longer, and you were wearing a fitted dress you hadn’t seen in years. The newer photograph showed you at twenty-eight after three pregnancies and countless sleepless nights.
The caption read:
Seven years younger and somehow she’s the one who looks exhausted. Three kids before thirty will do that. Josh already seems checked out.
That one spread quickly. People began arguing about the age difference between you and Josh, some insisted that you had been too young when you started dating him, despite the fact that you had been an adult and neither of you had hidden the timeline.
Others accused you of intentionally becoming pregnant quickly to “secure” the relationship.
Someone claimed Josh had only married you because Miles had been conceived.
That wasn’t true.
You and Josh had already been engaged when you discovered you were pregnant with Miles. The wedding had been postponed because you wanted to wait until after he was born, not arranged because of him.
The facts didn’t matter. Within hours, strangers had constructed an entire version of your life, according to social media, you had sacrificed your twenties to raise Josh’s children while he continued living freely.
You were isolated, he was controlling. You looked miserable, he looked bored. You had aged badly, he would eventually leave you for someone younger, even though you were already seven years younger than him.
At first, the comments almost seemed absurd enough to be funny.
You sent Josh one while he was at practice.
Someone thinks you forced me to have three children.
He responded a few minutes later.
I can barely force Noah to wear pants.
You laughed. Then you made the mistake of continuing to read, someone posted a close-up of your face from the restaurant picture and pointed out the shadows beneath your eyes. Another compared your body before Miles to your body after Jude.
A popular account created a poll asking whether Josh would still be married to you by his thirty-fifth birthday.
The options were:
No
and
Absolutely not
You stared at the poll much longer than you should have, Josh was thirty-four and would turn thirty-five in a few months. You had just turned twenty-eight. The age difference had never felt significant inside your home.
Josh never treated you as though you were younger or less capable. You made decisions together. You argued like equals, you divided responsibilities as fairly as his career allowed.
But strangers reduced you to the younger wife who had spent her best years having children. That phrasing lodged itself in your mind.
Your best years. As though they were already over.
You looked around the living room, there were toys beneath the coffee table, a basket of unfolded laundry beside the couch, and a faint stain on your shirt from where Jude had spit up after breakfast.
You hadn’t washed your hair in three days, your body no longer looked like it had when you met Josh. Your stomach a bit softer. Your hips were wider. Fine lines had appeared around your eyes from exhaustion and laughter. There were pale stretch marks across your skin and a small scar low on your abdomen from Jude’s emergency delivery.
You had never hated those things before.
Some days, you struggled with them, especially when getting dressed for team events surrounded by women who seemed impossibly polished. But Josh had always made you feel wanted.
He kissed your stretch marks, he rested his hand over your stomach when you slept, he still looked at you across crowded rooms in a way that made you feel twenty-one again. But after reading hundreds of strangers say he was only pretending, you started wondering whether you had misread him.
The rumor followed you for the rest of the week, Josh attended a team dinner alone because Noah had a fever. A photograph of him laughing with teammates appeared online.
He looks happier without her.
You skipped a home game because Jude had been awake all night with teething pain and Miles was sad because he lost his drawing, when he was the one who throw it in the trash when he spilled his water on it.
She never supports him anymore.
Josh failed to like the birthday post you uploaded until several hours later because he had been at practice.
He couldn’t even pretend to care on her birthday.
You knew there were explanations, you knew the accounts were manipulating ordinary moments. But knowing something logically didn’t stop it from hurting emotionally.
You began checking your reflection more often.
Every time Josh looked at his phone, you wondered whether he had seen the posts. Whenever he seemed quiet after practice, you wondered whether he was thinking about the poll.
You started changing clothes before he came into the bedroom.
When he walked into the bathroom while you were getting ready, you immediately pulled your robe closed. Josh paused in the doorway “Sorry my love”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“You covered yourself like I caught you committing a crime.”
“I’m cold.”
He glanced toward the shower, which was still filling the room with steam “Right.”
You avoided his eyes.
That night, he tried to pull you closer in bed, you pretended to be asleep. His arm remained around your waist for several minutes before slowly withdrawing.
You felt him roll onto his back. The disappointment in that small movement nearly made you turn around and tell him everything. Instead, you closed your eyes more tightly.
The worst moment happened three days later.
You were in the kitchen packing Miles’s lunch when you heard Noah’s tablet playing a video from the living room. You had restricted most applications, but sometimes clips slipped through the child settings, especially when they included hockey footage.
A woman’s voice came through the speaker “Fans are convinced there could be trouble in Josh Manson’s marriage after recent photos—”
You dropped the sandwich bag onto the counter “Noah.”
He didn’t respond.
You rushed into the living room and found the tablet propped against the couch. Noah was sitting on the floor with toy cars, barely paying attention.
Miles was standing behind him, unlike Noah, he was listening. On the screen, the host showed the birthday photograph.
Then the older picture, your stomach dropped.
“Mommy?” Miles asked. You grabbed the tablet and stopped the video “Where did you find this?”
“Noah pressed it.”
“I didn’t,” Noah protested immediately.
“It was on the hockey video.”
You looked at Miles, his expression was troubled in a way no six-year-old’s face should have been “What did you hear?” He shrugged, but his eyes stayed on the dark screen “Miles.”
He hesitated “The lady said Dad doesn’t want to be married anymore.”
Your chest tightened so sharply it almost hurt “That isn’t true.”
“She said people think he’s going to leave before his birthday.”
“No.” You crouched in front of him. “Dad is not leaving.”
“Because you got old?” The question broke something inside you, you stared at your son. Miles shifted anxiously “They said you look old now because you had us.”
You could barely breathe “No, sweetheart.”
“Did we make you old?”
“No.”
“Did Jude?”
“No.” Your voice cracked. “None of you did anything.”
Miles’s lower lip trembled “Dad still likes you?”
You pulled him into your arms “Dad loves me.”
“Then why did the lady say that?”
You closed your eyes. Because cruelty earned attention, because strangers forgot there were real families behind photographs, because people who had never met you believed they were entitled to explain your marriage to your children.
You couldn’t tell him any of that “Sometimes people on the internet say things that aren’t true,” you whispered. “They see one picture and make up a story.”
Miles leaned back “So Dad isn’t leaving?”
“No.”
“Promise?”
You forced yourself to answer immediately “Promise.”
But after sending him to school, you went upstairs and cried in the bathroom. Not because you truly believed Josh was going to leave.
Not entirely.
You cried because the rumor had reached your child, Miles was six years old, and someone had made him wonder whether he and his brothers had ruined their mother. You sat on the floor between the bathtub and vanity, pressing your sleeve against your mouth so Noah wouldn’t hear you.
That was where Josh found you.
Practice had ended early, but you hadn’t heard him come home. He appeared in the doorway still wearing his team sweats, his hair damp from the shower at the arena.
His face changed instantly “What happened?”
You wiped your cheeks “Nothing.” Josh stepped inside and closed the door behind him “You’re sitting on the bathroom floor crying.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“I just had a bad morning.”
He crouched in front of you “Did something happen with the boys?” Your silence made his expression sharpen “Are they okay?”
“They’re fine.”
“Then what happened?”
You looked down at your hands, Josh reached for you, but you shifted away before he could touch your face. His hand stopped in midair, the hurt in his expression made you feel worse “You’ve been doing that all week,” he said quietly.
“Doing what?”
“Moving away from me.”
“I haven’t.”
“You have.”
He sat on the floor across from you “You won’t change in front of me. You pretend to sleep when I touch you. You barely spoke to me at breakfast yesterday.” His voice softened. “Now I come home and find you crying. Tell me what’s going on.”
You wanted to, instead, embarrassment rose in your throat “It’s stupid.”
“Let me decide that.”
You shook your head.
Josh watched you for a moment “Did I do something?”
“No.”
“Are you unhappy?”
The fear behind the question made you look at him “What?”
“Are you unhappy with me?”
“No.”
“Then help me understand.”
You drew a shaky breath “Miles saw one of the videos.”
Josh frowned “What video?”
You told him.
You explained the post, the comments, the poll, and the way the rumor had spread. You told him how Miles had asked whether his father still liked you, you did not intend to tell Josh the rest.
But once you started speaking, everything came out “They keep saying I wasted my twenties,” you whispered. “That I had three kids too young and now I look older than you.”
Josh’s jaw tightened “They’re idiots.”
“But I do look different.”
“Of course you look different. It’s been seven years" You flinched, he noticed immediately “That didn’t come out right.”
“It came out honestly.”
“No, it came out badly.”
You stood from the floor, Josh rose with you.
“I know I don’t look the same,” you said. “I don’t need you to pretend.”
“I’m not pretending.”
“You don’t have to protect my feelings.”
“I’m not protecting your feelings. I’m telling you the truth.”
You turned toward the mirror. Your eyes were swollen from crying. Your hair was twisted into a loose bun. There was a small stain on the shoulder of your shirt “I look exhausted.”
“You are exhausted.”
“You’re not helping.”
“I’m saying you’re exhausted because Jude still wakes twice a night and you refuse to wake me when I have practice.”
“You need to sleep.”
“So do you.”
“That isn’t the point.”
“Then tell me what the point is.”
You looked at him through the mirror “The point is that I don’t feel like the woman you married anymore.”
Josh went quiet,you folded your arms over your stomach “She was fun. She traveled with you. She wore dresses without worrying whether anything showed. She didn’t spend every conversation talking about school schedules and pediatric appointments.”
“She also couldn’t cook.”
You turned sharply “Josh.”
“I’m trying to lighten the mood.”
“This isn’t funny.”
His expression softened “I know.”
You looked down “People keep saying you’ll leave me for someone younger.”
“You are younger.”
“That isn’t what they mean.”
“I know.”
“What happens when you turn thirty-five and realize you’re married to someone who already feels fifty?”
Josh stared at you, then he walked forward and gently took your wrists, uncrossing your arms from your stomach “Look at me.” You resisted for a moment before raising your eyes “I am turning thirty-five,” he said. “Not losing my mind.”
You said nothing.
“I’m not waiting for my birthday to suddenly discover I have a wife and three children.”
“They think you look miserable.”
“I was miserable in that picture.” Your throat tightened, Josh squeezed your hands before you could pull away “Because your mom called to say Jude had been crying for forty minutes, the photographer was blocking the car, and I knew you were blaming yourself for leaving the house.”
“Oh.”
“I wasn’t miserable because of you.” You looked away, Josh stepped closer “And I didn’t marry the twenty-one-year-old version of you because I wanted her to stay exactly the same forever.”
His thumbs brushed over your wrists “I married you because I wanted to change with you.”
Your eyes burned.
“The woman I met at twenty-one didn’t know how to calm a newborn while half asleep. She didn’t know every dinosaur Miles has ever mentioned. She hadn’t learned that Noah will eat carrots if you call them orange fries.”
A tear slipped down your cheek, Josh released one of your hands to wipe it away “She hadn’t held my hand in a hospital room while doctors rushed Jude into surgery.”
Your breath caught.
“She hadn’t built this home. She hadn’t made me a dad.”
“You did part of that.”
“A very small part.”
Despite yourself, a weak laugh escaped.
Josh’s mouth lifted slightly “There you are .”
You shook your head, he cupped your face “You didn’t waste your twenties.” His voice was firm now “You lived them. You loved me through surgeries, trades, road trips, losses, and every mood I’ve ever brought home after a bad game. You had three beautiful boys because we both wanted them. You built a career around our family. You made friends in every city hockey dragged us through.”
His forehead touched yours “And you’re twenty-eight. You have plenty of twenties left.”
“I only have two years.”
“Then we’ll make them irresponsible.” You laughed through your tears “I’m serious. We’ll stay out past ten.”
“That is irresponsible for us.”
“We might even order dessert.”
“We always order dessert.”
“Exactly. Wild.”
Your smile faded again “But Miles heard it.”
Josh’s expression hardened “I know.”
“He asked whether they made me old.”
The anger in Josh’s eyes became unmistakable “They?”
“The boys.”
He stepped back and dragged a hand over his jaw “He thinks this is his fault?”
“I told him it wasn’t.”
“But he heard it.”
“Yes.”
Josh paced once across the bathroom, you had seen him angry many times. On the ice, his anger was immediate and physical, at home, it was quieter. More controlled and somehow, that was more intimidating “Where’s the video?”
“I deleted it from the tablet.”
“Find it.”
“Josh.”
“Find it.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“That usually means something terrible.”
“I’m not going to fight someone.”
“You sound disappointed about that.”
“I am.” You found the clip through your own phone and handed it to him, he watched the entire thing.
His face remained expressionless until the host repeated the claim that having three children had “aged” you and suggested Josh might be reconsidering the marriage as he approached thirty-five.
Then his jaw flexed. At the end of the video, he handed the phone back “Who is she?”
“A reporter for one of those entertainment channels.”
“Does she come to games?”
“Sometimes.”
Josh nodded once, you knew that look “No.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You’re going to.”
“She talked about our marriage like it was entertainment.”
“That’s what those channels do.”
“She involved our kids.”
“She probably didn’t know Miles would see it.”
“She put it online.”
You reached for his arm “Please don’t make this bigger.”
Josh looked at you “It’s already big enough that our six-year-old thinks I’m leaving.”
You had no response.
That evening, Josh sat with Miles in his bedroom, you remained in the hallway at first, listening while pretending to fold laundry. Miles was sitting beneath his Avalanche blanket, holding one of his stuffed animals.
Josh sat on the edge of the bed “Mom said you saw something online today.”
Miles looked nervous “It came on Noah’s video.”
“You’re not in trouble.”
“I didn’t look for it.”
“I know.”
Miles picked at the stuffed animal’s ear “Are you leaving?”
Josh’s shoulders dropped “No.”
“Even when you’re thirty-five?”
“Especially then.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll need Mom to remind me where I put everything.”
Miles smiled slightly, Josh leaned forward “I’m not leaving mommy buddy, I love her.”
“The lady said you don’t.”
“The lady doesn’t know me.”
“She said Mom looks old because of us.”
Josh’s face tightened “Your mom doesn’t look old.”
“She said—”
“I know what she said.” Josh’s voice softened. “She was wrong.”
Miles watched him carefully “Did we make Mom tired?”
“Yes.” Your mouth fell open in the hallway, Josh continued before you could interrupt “You made both of us tired. You used to wake up every two hours and scream.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.” Miles smiled.
“But being tired isn’t bad,” Josh explained. “Sometimes it means you worked hard at something important.”
“Like hockey?”
“Exactly. Or being a mom.”
Miles considered this “So Mom isn’t sad she had us?”
“No.” Josh glanced toward the doorway, clearly aware you were there. “Mom would choose all three of you again.”
“Even Noah?”
“Probably.”
“Daddy.”
“I’m kidding.”
Miles giggled.
Josh tucked the blanket around him “And nobody gets to tell you things about our family that Mommy and I haven’t told you ourselves. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“If you see another video like that, you bring it to us.”
“Are you going to yell at the lady?”
Josh paused “No.” You released a relieved breath “I’m going to speak very calmly and make her wish I had yelled.” You closed your eyes, Miles grinned.
The opportunity came sooner than you expected.
Two nights later, you attended a home game with the boys, you considered staying home.
The idea of cameras made your stomach twist, but Miles had been asking to watch Josh play all week. Noah wanted popcorn, and Jude had recently become fascinated with the arena lights.
You refused to let the rumor take those moments away from them, you wore jeans, boots, and one of the play-offs jacket. Before leaving, you stood in front of the bedroom mirror and nearly changed three times.
Josh came up behind you “You look good.”
“You have to say that.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You do if you want somewhere to sleep tonight.”
Josh placed both hands on your hips “I’m serious.” You looked at him through the mirror, His gaze didn’t move away “You look like my wife.”
You swallowed “Is that supposed to be romantic?”
“To me it is.” He kissed the side of your head before heading downstairs to help Miles find his gloves.
The game went well.
The avalanche won, Miles cheered until his voice became hoarse, Noah spilled half a bucket of popcorn onto the floor, and Jude fell asleep against your chest halfway through the third period.
For several hours, you forgot about the internet.
After the game, you waited with the boys near the family area while Josh finished media availability. Miles and Noah were playing with Gabe’s kids. Jude remained asleep in your arms.
A reporter approached you, you recognized her immediately. She was the woman from the video.
Your entire body went tense.
She smiled as though she hadn’t publicly speculated about the end of your marriage two days earlier “YN, could I ask you a quick question?”
“No.”
Her smile faltered.
“It will only take a second.”
“I’m here with my children.”
“It’s actually about the recent conversation online.”
You adjusted Jude against your chest “I’m sorry but i'm not interested.”
She stepped closer “Would you at least like to address the rumors that you and Josh are experiencing marital problems?”
Miles stopped playing, your eyes moved toward him. The reporter followed your gaze but continued anyway “Some fans have expressed concern after recent photographs—”
“Concern?” Josh’s voice came from behind her, the reporter turned. He was still wearing part of his suit from the game, his tie loosened and his hair damp. His expression was calm, far too calm “Josh,” she said brightly. “I was hoping to ask you—”
“No.” She blinked, he moved to stand beside you and placed one hand against the back of your neck “You don’t get to ask my wife anything.”
“I was only giving her an opportunity to respond.”
“To something you created.”
The reporter’s smile became strained “We reported on public speculation.”
“You started the speculation.”
“The photograph raised questions.”
“It was a picture of us leaving dinner.”
“You appeared unhappy.”
“My one-year-old was crying at home.” She hesitated, Josh continued “You took a picture of my wife on her birthday, compared her body to what she looked like seven years ago, and invited strangers to vote on whether I would leave her.”
“I didn’t personally create the poll.”
“You shared it.”
The reporter glanced toward the other people beginning to watch “This may not be the right setting—”
“You approached her while she was holding our son.” Your hand tightened around Jude, Josh’s voice never rose. That made every word land harder “Our six-year-old saw your video.”
The reporter’s expression changed
“He asked whether his brothers made his mom old. Then he asked whether I was leaving them.”
“I’m sorry he saw it, but content online—”
“No.” Josh stepped slightly closer “You don’t get to apologize that he saw it. You apologize for making it.”
She stared at him “I understand you’re upset.”
“I’m not upset because someone criticized me. That comes with my job. I’m upset because you decided my wife’s face, body, age, and motherhood were appropriate entertainment.”
You felt tears threatening again.
Josh’s hand remained steady against your neck “You don’t know her,” he continued. “You don’t know what she has sacrificed for this family. You don’t know what she survived bringing our youngest into the world. And you definitely don’t know anything about my marriage.”
The reporter looked toward her camera operator, clearly wanting the exchange to end.
Josh didn’t give her the chance to redirect it “You wanted an answer to the rumor?” He looked directly at the camera “Here it is. I love my wife. I’m not leaving her at thirty-five, forty-five, or any other age. The only people who damaged anything were the adults who made my six-year-old question whether his family was safe.”
Silence settled around the hallway.
Josh looked back at the reporter “Don’t approach my wife or children again.” then he took Jude from your arms, called Miles and Noah over, and led all of you away.
You remained silent until you reached the parking garage.
Noah was talking excitedly about the popcorn, Miles kept looking at Josh with obvious admiration. Jude slept through everything. Once the boys were buckled into the car, you stood beside the passenger door and stared at Josh.
“What?”
“You confronted her.”
“She confronted you.”
“You knew cameras were recording.”
“Good.”
“Josh.”
He stepped closer “What?”
“That clip is going to be everywhere.”
“Then maybe people will finally repeat something true.”
You looked at him for a long moment “You said you weren’t going to yell.”
“I didn’t.”
“You were terrifying.”
“I was polite.”
“You told her she damaged our child.”
“She did.” His expression softened when he saw yours “Are you angry?”
“No.”
“Embarrassed?”
“A little.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re not.”
“Not even slightly.” You laughed quietly, Josh placed both hands around your waist. The parking garage was cold, and you could hear the boys arguing inside the car over who had cheered louder.
“You didn’t have to do that,” you said.
“Yes, I did.”
“You could have ignored it.”
“I tried ignoring it, then it reached our house.” He looked down at you “I can take people talking about me. I’m used to it. But I’m not going to stand there while someone makes you feel ashamed of the life we built.”
Your eyes burned “I do feel ashamed sometimes.”
Josh’s brow furrowed “Of us?”
“Of myself.”
His hands tightened slightly.
You looked away “I know you tell me I’m beautiful. I know you love me. But sometimes I look at old pictures and miss her.”
“The old you?”
You nodded.
“She looked rested.”
“She didn’t have Jude.”
“She was smaller.”
“She didn’t have Jude.”
“She went out.”
“She didn’t have Jude.”
You gave him an annoyed look “Are you blaming everything on the baby?”
“I love him, but yes.” A laugh escaped you, Josh smiled, then became serious again “You’re allowed to miss parts of your old life.”
“I am?”
“Yes.”
“But I chose this.”
“You can choose something and still find it hard.”
You stared at him “Being their mom doesn’t mean you stop being a person,” he said. “And being my wife doesn’t mean you have to be grateful every second or never struggle with what changed.” His thumb brushed against your side “But you need to tell me when you feel like this.”
“I didn’t want you to think I regretted the boys.”
“I would never think that.”
“What if I regret things sometimes?”
“Like what?”
“My body. How tired I am. Not having more time for myself.”
Josh nodded “Then we work on those things.”
“You can’t fix everything.”
“No. But I can wake up with Jude. I can take the boys out so you get time alone. We can find someone to help more when I’m traveling.”
You started to protest, He gave you a look “You don’t get a medal for doing everything until you fall apart.”
“I wasn’t falling apart.”
“You were crying between the toilet and bathtub.”
“That was one time.”
“That I know about.” You looked down, Josh tilted your chin upward “I should’ve noticed sooner.”
“You were working.”
“I’m still your husband.” His expression carried guilt now “You stopped letting me touch you, and I let myself believe you were just tired.”
“I was tired.”
“You were also hurting.”
You leaned into him “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Believing them.”
Josh wrapped his arms around you “You don’t owe me an apology for getting hurt.”
“I knew it wasn’t true.”
“Knowing doesn’t make you bulletproof.” You rested your cheek against his chest, Inside the car, Noah pressed his face to the window “Daddy!”
Josh didn’t release you “What?”
“Are we going home?”
“Eventually.”
“I’m hungry.”
“You ate enough popcorn to feed the team buddy.”
“I need dinner.”
Josh sighed against your hair “This is what aged us.” You laughed so loudly Miles joined in without knowing why.
The confrontation clip spread online before you arrived home, this time, the response was overwhelmingly supportive.
People criticized the reporter. Fans shared photographs of Josh looking at you during games and family events. Other mothers wrote about feeling unrecognizable after having children.
Women you had never met sent messages saying they had also struggled when motherhood changed their bodies and identities.
But you didn’t read much of it, Josh took your phone when he noticed you opening the applications “Positive comments are still comments,” he said.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does to me.” He turned off your notifications and placed the phone on top of the refrigerator
“You know I can reach that.”
“I know. But it makes my point dramatic.”
The next morning, he posted a photograph, it wasn’t from your birthday dinner or the game. It was a picture that your mom had taken several weeks earlier.
You were sitting on the kitchen floor in an oversized sweatshirt, your hair in a messy bun. Jude was asleep against your chest. Noah was stretched across your lap, attempting to reach a bowl of strawberries, while Miles stood beside you wearing Josh’s helmet backward.
You had no makeup on. There were toys everywhere, you looked tired but you also looked happy.
The caption read:
My wife turned twenty-eight last week. We met seven years ago, and she doesn’t look exactly the same now. Neither do I.
Since then, she has moved cities, built a home with me, supported my career, survived three pregnancies, and raised three boys who think she is the center of the world. She has changed because our life changed.
She didn’t lose herself by becoming a mother, and our children didn’t take anything away from her. They added to who she already was.
I loved her at twenty-one. I love her at twenty-eight. I’ll love the woman she becomes at thirty-five, fifty, and every age after that.
The internet saw one photograph. I get the whole life. I know which one I’d choose.
Comments were disabled. When you found the post, Josh was in the kitchen making breakfast “You posted me in my worst sweatshirt.”
He glanced over his shoulder “You love that sweatshirt.”
“It has bleach stains.”
“It has character.”
“My hair looks terrible.”
“You look beautiful.”
“You always say that.”
“Because you keep being beautiful.” You walked toward him, he set down the spatula and opened his arms before you reached him. You tucked yourself against his chest “What are you making?”
“Pancakes.”
You looked into the pan “They’re burning.”
“They’re caramelizing.”
“Josh.”
“I’m defending my family and making breakfast. I can’t do everything.” Miles came running into the kitchen “Dad, Noah took my dinosaur!”
“I didn’t take it!” Noah shouted from the hallway.
“You’re holding it!”
“It likes me!”
Jude began crying through the baby monitor, Josh closed his eyes. You started laughing, He looked down at you “What?”
“Nothing.”
You shook your head and reached for the monitor, Josh caught your wrist “I’ll get him.”
“You’re cooking.”
“I’m burning things. There’s a difference.” He kissed you and headed toward the stairs. At the bottom step, he turned back “And for the record?”
You raised an eyebrow.
“Twenty-eight looks really good on you.”
You smiled “Thirty-five might look good on you too.”
“Might?”
“We’ll see.” Josh placed a hand over his heart as though wounded, then went upstairs to get Jude.
The rumor did not disappear immediately, the internet rarely admitted when it was wrong. But it stopped controlling the way you saw yourself.
You still had difficult days.
Days when nothing in your closet fit the way you wanted, days when motherhood felt less like a gift and more like an endless list of people who needed something from you. Days when you missed the freedom you had at twenty-one.
But when those thoughts became too loud, you told Josh.
Sometimes he reassured you, sometimes he took all three boys out for several hours and returned looking as though he had personally survived a natural disaster, sometimes he simply sat beside you without trying to fix anything.
A week after the confrontation, you found Miles drawing at the kitchen table.
There were five stick figures, one tall figure holding a hockey stick, one figure with long hair. Three smaller figures between them “Is that us?” you asked.
Miles nodded, he pointed toward the figure representing you “That’s you.”
“I guessed.”
“You’re not old.”
You smiled “Thank you baby”
“You’re twenty-eight.”
“I am.”
“That’s kind of old.”
Your mouth fell open, Miles grinned “But Dad is older.”
“Much older.”
Josh walked into the room carrying Jude “I heard that.” Miles laughed and ran away, Josh looked at the drawing “What’s this?”
“Our family.”
He shifted Jude higher on his hip “Why am I so much taller than everyone?”
“Your ego.” He gave you an unimpressed look.
You took the drawing from the table and examined it again, the figure representing you had an enormous smile. There were three children around your legs and Josh beside you.
Josh came to stand behind you, wrapping his free arm around your waist “You okay?” he asked. You leaned back against him, for the first time in days, the answer felt completely true “Yeah.”
He kissed your temple.
“You sure?” You looked at the uneven stick figures, the baby on Josh’s hip, and the three bowls still sitting in the sink from breakfast.
You were not the same woman you had been at twenty-one. You were tired, changed. Softer in places and stronger in others.
You were twenty-eight years old, married to a man approaching thirty-five, with three loud little boys who had transformed every part of your life and none of that made you less worthy of being loved. It only meant you had lived.
SUMMARY: A teammate accidentally reveals Sidney and YN’s secret marriage—and their three-year-old son—during a live interview, forcing the family into the public eye sooner than they ever planned.
Requested: Sidney Crosby + A teammate exposes your relationship during an interview
AN: the form with the new prompt list is open!
Sidney had always been protective of his private life.
It wasn’t that he was ashamed of you or the family you had built together. It was the complete opposite. You and Chase were the most precious parts of his life, which was exactly why he kept the two of you far away from cameras, interviews, and strangers who believed they were entitled to know everything about him.
Most people knew Sidney lived a quiet life in Pittsburgh.
They knew he had a house, enjoyed spending time back home in Cole Harbour, and spent most of his free time either training or watching hockey.
What they didn’t know was that he came home every night to his wife and your three-year-old son.
Your marriage had never been publicly announced. There had been no magazine spread, no carefully staged Instagram post, and no wedding photographs released to the media. Sidney wore his wedding band, but he often removed it before games and practices out of habit, so fans had never managed to confirm anything.
There were rumors, of course.
There were always rumors when it came to Sidney Crosby but nobody had ever gotten close enough to discover the truth.
Until Ben Kindel moved into your house.
The decision had been easy for Sidney. Ben was young, adjusting to professional hockey, and suddenly living in a city far away from everything familiar. Sidney remembered what it was like to be that age, stepping into a league filled with grown men while everyone watched and judged every mistake.
So when the organization mentioned that Ben needed somewhere stable to stay, Sidney volunteered your home before the sentence was fully finished.
He had called you immediately afterward “I might’ve offered our guest room to someone,” he’d said cautiously. You had been standing in the kitchen, cutting strawberries into small pieces for Chase “Someone?”
“A teammate.”
“For how long?”
Sidney had paused.
“I’m not completely sure.”
You had laughed because you already knew there was no point pretending you would say no.
A few days later, Ben arrived carrying two suitcases, several hockey bags, and an expression that suggested he was terrified of accidentally breaking something in Sidney Crosby’s house.
The nervousness lasted approximately two days.
By the end of his first week, he was stealing cereal from the pantry, arguing with Sidney over which movie to watch, and allowing Chase to climb all over him like he was playground equipment.
Chase adored him instantly, every morning, your son would toddle down the hallway and knock on Ben’s bedroom door “Benny awake?”
Sometimes Ben wasn’t.
That had never stopped Chase. He would push the door open, climb onto the bed, and begin jumping until Ben finally groaned into his pillow “Why does he have so much energy?”
“Because he’s three,” Sidney would answer from the doorway, already dressed for morning skate.
“And why does he always wake me up?”
“Because you taught him where your room is.”
Ben had quickly become part of the family’s routine. He ate dinner with you, helped clean the kitchen even when you told him he didn’t have to, and played mini sticks with Chase in the basement almost every evening.
He also became frighteningly comfortable around you and Sidney. Which should have warned both of you.
The interview happened after practice.
It wasn’t supposed to be anything important. Just a short, lighthearted segment about Ben’s transition into the organization and what it was like being mentored by one of the greatest players in hockey history.
You were at home when it happened, sitting cross-legged on the living room rug while Chase built an unstable tower out of wooden blocks.
Sidney was still at the rink.
Ben was seated in front of a Penguins backdrop, wearing a team hoodie and smiling politely while the reporter asked him several predictable questions.
“How have you adjusted to living in Pittsburgh?”
“It’s been really good,” Ben answered. “Everyone’s been helping me a lot.”
“And you’re staying with Sidney Crosby, correct?”
Ben nodded “Yeah.”
The reporter smiled. “What is it like living with Sidney? Is he as serious at home as he is at the rink?”
Ben laughed “No, not really. I mean, he’s still Sid, but he’s pretty normal at home.”
That answer alone would have been harmless. Unfortunately, Ben continued “His wife is amazing. She makes dinner most nights, and she’s helped me with everything since I moved in and I love playing with Chase. He’s three, so he has way more energy than all of us.”
The reporter froze, Ben kept smiling.
Somebody behind the camera made a strangled sound.
There was a full three seconds of silence before the realization began to settle across Ben’s face. His smile slowly disappeared, the reporter blinked at him “Sidney’s…wife?”
Ben’s eyes widened “Oh.”
“And Chase is—”
“Oh, no.”
“His son?”
Ben looked directly toward someone off-camera, silently begging them to help him. Nobody did “I think I’ve said something I wasn’t supposed to say.”
The clip ended there. Unfortunately, the internet did not.
By the time Sidney walked into the house that afternoon, the video had already been viewed millions of times. You were standing in the kitchen with your phone in your hand, watching the interview for what had to be the sixth time.
Ben was sitting at the island with his head buried in his arms, Chase sat beside him eating crackers, completely unaware that his existence had just become international hockey news.
Sidney stopped in the doorway, he looked at you, then at Ben, then at Chase “What happened?”
Ben slowly lifted his head “I ruined your life.”
Sidney’s eyebrows pulled together. “What?”
You held your phone out to him “Watch.”
Sidney took it and pressed play. You watched his expression closely as Ben revealed your marriage, complimented your cooking, and told the entire world about Chase in less than fifteen seconds.
Sidney remained silent when the video finished.
Ben looked ready to throw up “I’m so sorry,” he rushed out. “I didn’t even think. They asked what it was like living here, and I just started talking, and then I mentioned YN, and then Chase, and I know you don’t talk about them publicly, and I swear I wasn’t trying to—”
“Ben,” Sidney interrupted.
“I’ll move out.”
“You’re not moving out.”
“I can pack tonight.”
“You’re still not moving out.”
“I can apologize publicly.”
Sidney set your phone on the counter “That would probably make it worse.”
Ben dropped his head again “I’m an idiot.” Chase looked over at him “You’re not idiot, Benny.”
Ben turned toward him sadly. “Thank you, buddy.”
“You bad at hockey sometimes.” you covered your mouth to hide your laugh, Sidney failed to hide his. Ben stared at Chase “That was unnecessary.”
Chase offered him a cracker, Ben accepted it anyway. Sidney walked around the island and placed a hand on Ben’s shoulder “You made a mistake.”
“A massive mistake.”
“A mistake,” Sidney repeated. “You weren’t trying to expose anything. You were talking about your life.”
“My life includes your secret wife and child.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Secret wife sounds a little dramatic.”
That was true, Chase was getting older. Soon he would start preschool, make friends, and talk about his father to anyone willing to listen. Hiding your family permanently had never been realistic.
You had simply hoped to control how the information became public.
You had imagined a quiet statement, maybe a carefully chosen photograph, something that allowed Chase to remain protected. You hadn’t imagined Ben casually revealing everything during a post-practice interview.
Sidney glanced at you “Are you okay?”
You considered the question, your phone hadn’t stopped buzzing for nearly an hour. Friends had sent messages, your family had called, and reporters had already started attempting to identify you.
But when you looked across the kitchen, you didn’t see Sidney Crosby, hockey superstar.
You saw your husband.
His hair was still damp from his post-practice shower. His wedding band was back on his finger. His concern was completely focused on you and Chase “I’m overwhelmed,” you admitted. “But I’m okay.”
Sidney stepped closer “We’ll handle it.”
Ben looked between you “You’re both being way too calm about this.”
You smiled slightly. “Would you prefer that we yell?”
“No.”
“Then stop trying to convince us.”
Chase reached toward Sidney “Daddy, up.” Sidney immediately lifted him from the stool, Chase wrapped both arms around his neck and pressed his face into Sidney’s shoulder.
Ben watched them for a moment before groaning “I also said I loved playing with him.”
“You do love playing with him,” you said.
“I do, but now everyone knows.” Sidney glanced down at his son “There are worse things for people to know.”
The Penguins’ communications team called less than ten minutes later.
They offered to have the interview removed, although copies had already spread across every social media platform imaginable. They also offered to release a statement denying that Ben had meant the comments literally.
Sidney rejected that idea immediately.
He wasn’t going to deny you, he wasn’t going to pretend Chase didn’t exist simply because the public had learned about him earlier than planned. Instead, after a long conversation between the two of you, Sidney agreed to release a short statement.
No interviews, no questions, no photographs of Chase’s face.
Just the truth.
That evening, Sidney sat beside you on the couch while you drafted it together. Chase had fallen asleep across his chest, one tiny hand gripping the fabric of Sidney’s shirt. Ben sat on the opposite couch, unusually quiet.
Sidney read the statement once more “‘My family has always been the most important part of my life. YN and I have chosen to keep our marriage and our son private so Chase can grow up away from unnecessary attention. We understand that people will be curious, but we ask that our family’s privacy continues to be respected.’”
You nodded.
“It’s good.”
Sidney looked down at Chase “Should we mention Ben?” from across the room, Ben shook his head violently “No.”
You laughed, Sidney’s mouth twitched “We could say our teammate accidentally shared the news.”
“Please don’t.”
“We could thank him for making the announcement for us.”
“Sid.” Sidney finally laughed, and some of the guilt disappeared from Ben’s face.
The statement was posted several minutes later, the response was overwhelming, but mostly kind.
Fans congratulated Sidney. Former teammates sent messages teasing him for keeping such an enormous part of his life hidden. People clipped together every moment from previous interviews where Sidney had smiled mysteriously when asked about his personal life.
There were also hundreds of comments about Ben, most people found the reveal hilarious.
Someone edited dramatic music over the exact moment he realized what he had done. Another person froze the video on his horrified expression and added the caption:
When you accidentally expose your captain’s entire secret family.
Ben refused to look at his phone for the rest of the night, at dinner, he barely spoke, you placed an extra serving of pasta on his plate “You need to eat.”
“I don’t deserve your cooking.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“I told the entire world you existed.”
“You also said I was amazing.”
Ben looked up “You are.”
Sidney pointed his fork toward him “That’s probably the only reason she’s forgiven you.”
You smiled. “It helped.” Chase, seated in his booster chair, looked at Ben seriously “Benny made mistake.”
Ben sighed. “Yes, Chase. Benny made a mistake.”
“Daddy makes mistakes.”
Sidney looked offended. “I do?”
Chase nodded “You forget blue cup.” you leaned back in your chair, laughing. Ben stared at Sidney “You forgot the blue cup?”
“It was one time.”
“He cried,” you explained.
“It was a serious situation,” Ben said solemnly.
Chase nodded in agreement.
The tension finally broke, Ben laughed, Sidney shook his head, and dinner returned to normal. Later that night, after Chase was asleep and Ben had gone upstairs, you found Sidney standing in the kitchen scrolling through his phone.
You wrapped your arms around his waist from behind “How bad is it?”
He placed his phone face down on the counter “Not as bad as I expected.” you rested your cheek against his back “Are you upset?”
Sidney turned in your arms “About people knowing?” you nodded, he thought about it “I’m upset that we didn’t get to decide how it happened.”
“Me too.”
“But I’m not upset that they know I have you.” his hands settled on your waist “I’ve never wanted to hide you.”
“I know.”
“I just wanted to protect this.” he glanced toward the staircase, where Chase slept and Ben was likely still replaying the interview in his head “Our home. Our family.”
You reached up and touched his cheek “We still have that.”
Sidney leaned into your hand “Tomorrow might be difficult.”
“There might be cameras.”
“I’ll make sure security handles it.”
“And Chase?”
“No one gets near him.”
The certainty in his voice made you smile.
Sidney had always been quiet, but he had never been passive when it came to the people he loved, you kissed him softly “We’ll be okay.”
He kissed you again, slower this time.
“Yeah.”
A floorboard creaked upstairs, then Ben’s voice floated down the hallway “Are you guys talking about me?”
Sidney closed his eyes “Go to sleep, Ben.”
“I’m still sorry!”
“We know!”
You pressed your face into Sidney’s chest, laughing.
The following morning, the three of them left for the rink together, Sidney carried Chase on one hip because your son had insisted on going to practice, while Ben followed behind them carrying Sidney’s coffee and Chase’s tiny Penguins backpack.
Several reporters waited outside.
Cameras lifted the moment Sidney appeared, he paused briefly, adjusting Chase so his face remained tucked safely against his shoulder. Ben looked nervous beside him, Sidney glanced at the younger playe “Relax.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“You’re the one who gave the interview.”
Ben groaned.
One reporter called out, “Sid, any comment about yesterday’s news?”
Sidney continued walking.
Another shouted, “Ben, how does it feel being the one who revealed Sidney Crosby’s secret family?”
Ben looked straight ahead “Worst interview of my life.”
Sidney laughed despite himself, Chase lifted his head from Sidney’s shoulder “Benny made mistake!”
The reporters burst into laughter.
Ben stopped walking “Chase.”
Sidney continued toward the entrance, his shoulders shaking “You taught him that sentence,” Ben accused.
“I didn’t have to.”
Chase waved at the cameras “My daddy plays hockey!” Sidney kissed the side of his head. For years, he had kept his greatest happiness hidden from the world, Now the secret was out.
And although it hadn’t happened the way either of you planned, Sidney discovered that he didn’t mind people knowing he was a husband and a father.
He only cared that when the interviews ended and the arena emptied, he still got to come home to you. As for Ben, he was never allowed to complete another interview without a member of the communications team standing directly beside him.
And every time a reporter asked what it was like living with Sidney Crosby, his response became painfully simple “It’s great.”
Nothing more, nothing less.
Especially nothing about Sidney’s amazing wife or the three-year-old waiting at home to challenge him to another game of mini sticks.
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SUMMARY: After overhearing Nathan say he misses his old life, you quietly leave with your one-year-old twins, forcing him to prove he never regretted your marriage or family
WC: 4.4k
WARNINGS: Marriage angst, misunderstanding, postpartum exhaustion, feelings of inadequacy, brief separation, crying, emotional reconciliation, happy ending
Requested: Nathan MacKinnon + where you overhear a conversation and think your partner regrets your relationship
The boys had finally fallen asleep, it had taken nearly an hour.
Knox had refused to lie down unless you rubbed slow circles over his back, while Ryker had stood inside his crib, gripping the wooden rail and crying every time you took more than two steps toward the door.
They had recently turned one, and somehow bedtime had become harder instead of easier, by the time both boys were asleep, your arms ached, your back hurt, and the faint headache that had been building since dinner had settled behind your eyes.
You stood between their cribs for a moment, watching them breathe.
Knox was sprawled on his stomach, one cheek pressed against his mattress and his favorite stuffed bear trapped beneath his arm. Ryker had fallen asleep on his side, still holding the corner of the small blanket he carried everywhere.
Your boys.
You loved them so much that sometimes it frightened you, you loved their matching brown curls, their loud laughs, and the way they both shouted “Dada” the second Nathan walked through the door.
You even loved the chaos.
The toys scattered through every room, the fingerprints on the windows, the sippy cups that seemed to disappear no matter how many you bought.
You loved the life you and Nathan had created, you only wished you still felt like yourself inside it, after quietly closing the nursery door, you headed downstairs.
Nathan had invited a few teammates and friends over after practice. Nothing major. Just food, drinks, and an evening where he could relax without needing to be somewhere else.
You had spent most of the night upstairs.
The boys had been overtired and clingy, and Nathan had been distracted with his friends. He had offered to help once, but you had told him you could handle it.
You always told him that.
Even when you couldn’t, even when you wanted him to notice that you needed help without having to ask for it, you reached the bottom of the staircase and heard voices coming from the kitchen.
Nathan’s was the easiest to recognize “I just miss how things used to be sometimes.”
You stopped, your hand tightened around the banister, you knew you should keep walking, you knew listening to a conversation that wasn’t meant for you would only lead somewhere painful. But your feet refused to move, one of Nathan’s friends said something you couldn’t hear over the low music coming from the living room.
Nathan sighed “Before everything got so complicated.” your chest tightened “The boys are great,” Nathan continued. “Obviously. I love them more than anything. But sometimes I think about how easy everything used to be.”
You pressed your lips together, he sounded tired, not angry and somehow, that made it worse “I could come home and Y/N and I could just leave,” he said. “We could go out to dinner. We could travel whenever we wanted. We could sit through one conversation without one of the twins screaming.”
His friend laughed softly, Nathan didn’t “I don’t know,” he continued. “Marriage, the house, the kids—it all happened so fast.”
Your breathing became shallow, you and Nathan had been married for three years, you had been together much longer.
The twins hadn’t been planned for that exact moment, but they had been wanted, you remembered holding the positive pregnancy test in your shaking hand while Nathan stared at it.
You remembered the way his face changed when he understood, the tears in his eyes, the disbelieving laugh, the way he dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead against your stomach even though there was nothing to feel yet.
Then, at the first ultrasound, the doctor had turned the screen toward both of you and explained that there were two heartbeats, Nathan had cried so openly that the nurse handed him tissues.
He had wanted them, you knew he had, at least, you had believed he had “I just wonder what my life would look like if we’d waited,” Nathan said quietly.
That sentence broke something inside you, you didn’t stay to hear anything else, you turned around before anyone could see you and climbed the stairs as silently as you could.
Once inside your bedroom, you closed the door.
For several seconds, you simply stood there, your pulse thundered in your ears, your reflection stared back at you from the mirror above the dresser, your hair was pulled into a messy knot.
There was a faint stain on the front of your shirt from Ryker throwing part of his dinner at you.
Your eyes looked tired, everything about you looked tired, you didn’t look like the woman Nathan had married, the woman who used to meet him after games in tight dresses and heels, the woman who booked last-minute flights and stayed awake talking to him until three in the morning, the woman who had once been able to give him her full attention.
You looked like Knox and Ryker’s mother, apparently, that wasn’t enough or maybe it was too much.
Your eyes filled with tears, but you wiped them away before they could fall, you couldn’t fall apart yet.
Nathan was downstairs, his friends were still in the house, the boys were asleep.
You needed to leave before you lost the courage to do it, you pulled a weekend bag from the closet and began packing, you didn’t take much for yourself jus a few shirts, leggings, some underwear and your toothbrush.
Most of the bag was for Knox and Ryker, pajamas, some clothes, a lot of diapers, wipes, sippy cups, their medicine because they had been sick the past few day, their stuffed animals and the small sound machine they struggled to sleep without.
You packed carefully, moving through the room in a numb silence, every few seconds, you could hear laughter downstairs, Nathan’s voice blended with the others.
He sounded normal.
That hurt more than if he had sounded miserable, you had just discovered that your husband might regret the life you shared, and he was downstairs laughing.
You sent your sister a brief text.
Can the boys and I stay with you tonight? Please don’t call. I’ll explain when I get there.
Her reply came almost immediately.
Of course. Door’s open.
You carried the bags to the garage one at a time, using the back staircase so no one in the living room would see you, no one noticed.
Nathan didn’t notice.
That realization lodged painfully beneath your ribs, you moved through the same house, packing yourself and your children away from him, and he had no idea.
Once everything was in the car, you returned to the nursery, Knox stirred when you lifted him from his crib, his eyes opened halfway “Mama,” he mumbled sleepily.
“I know, baby,” you whispered, pressing your lips to his curls. “I’ve got you.” he settled against your shoulder, you carried him downstairs and secured him in his car seat.
Then you returned for Ryker, he woke more fully, he blinked at you, confused, before resting his head against your chest “Dada?” he whispered.
Your throat closed “Dada’s downstairs.” Ryker made a small sound, but he was too tired to question it, you strapped him into the car beside his brother.
The music and voices inside the house remained loud enough that no one heard the garage door open, you backed out slowly and for one terrible moment, you stared at the house through the windshield.
The home Nathan had bought with you, the home where he had carried you through the front door after your wedding, the home where you had brought Knox and Ryker after leaving the hospital, the home where you had believed you would raise your family.
Your hands tightened around the steering wheel.
Then you drove away.
Nathan never saw you leave, you had been at your sister’s house for almost forty minutes when your phone began vibrating.
Nathan.
You stared at his name until the call ended, then it immediately started again, you declined it.
A message appeared.
Where are you?
Another followed seconds later.
Where are the boys?
Then:
Y/N, answer me. Please.
Your sister sat beside you on the couch, watching silently as you held the phone in both hands, Knox and Ryker were asleep in the guest room, both portable cribs positioned close to the bed.
You had managed to move them without waking them completely, you wished you could sleep as easily, the phone rang again “Tell him you’re safe,” your sister said gently. “You don’t have to explain anything else yet.”
You swallowed, your fingers shook as you typed.
The boys and I are at my sister’s. We’re safe.
The call came less than a second after the message delivered, this time, you answered.
“Where are you exactly?” Nathan demanded, his voice was panicked.
“You know where my sister lives.”
“Why did you leave?”
You closed your eyes “Keep your voice down.”
“I’m not near the boys.”
There was movement on his end, a door closing, then his voice lowered “I went upstairs after everyone left, and you were gone. Their cribs were empty. Half their things were missing. Your clothes were gone.” His breath hitched. “Do you have any idea what I thought?”
You felt a sharp stab of guilt “I texted you as soon as I saw your messages.”
“You should’ve told me before you took them.”
“You were busy.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Act like I wouldn’t have cared.”
Your eyes burned “You didn’t notice me packing an entire car.”
Silence, Nathan had no immediate answer, you laughed bitterly “That’s what I thought.”
“Y/N,” he said, his voice cracking. “Please tell me what happened.”
“I heard you.” another silence followed, this one was different. He knew, you could hear it in his breathing “You heard the conversation in the kitchen,” he said quietly.
“I heard enough.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I heard you say you missed your old life.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“You said marriage, the house, and the boys happened too fast.”
“I explained what I meant after that.”
“I wasn’t there after that.”
Nathan exhaled shakily “You left in the middle of the conversation?”
“I left when you said you wondered what your life would have looked like if we had waited.”
“Jesus Christ.”
You flinched “Don’t swear at me.”
“I’m not swearing at you.” His voice broke. “I’m realizing what you think.”
“I think my husband regrets marrying me.”
“I don’t.”
“And I think he regrets having children with me.”
“I don’t.”
“You sounded pretty sure downstairs.”
“Because you didn’t hear everything.”
You wiped at your cheek “I heard you say you missed when things were easy.”
“I do.” the honesty hurt, Nathan continued quickly “I miss sleeping. I miss being able to talk to you without both of us being exhausted. I miss taking you somewhere without spending two hours packing bags and snacks and emergency clothes.”
“So you miss not being a father.”
“No.” His voice sharpened. “I miss you.” you went quiet, Nathan breathed heavily through the phone “I was telling him that I miss my wife,” he said. “Not because I don’t love our sons. Not because I want to undo anything. I miss you because you’re right in front of me, and I still feel like I barely get to see you.”
Your fingers tightened around the phone “You see me every day.”
“I see you making breakfast, cleaning, chasing Knox, carrying Ryker, folding laundry, falling asleep on the couch.” His voice softened. “I don’t know when the last time was that you sat next to me and weren’t doing something for someone else.”
“That isn’t the boys’ fault.”
“I never said it was.”
“You made it sound like they ruined everything.”
“I was trying to say that I wasn’t prepared for how much our marriage would change.”
You stared at the dark window across the room “I wasn’t prepared either.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do now.”
You pressed a trembling hand against your mouth, Nathan was quiet for a moment “When I said I wondered what life would look like if we waited, I meant I wondered if I would’ve been a better husband.”
Your brow furrowed “What?”
“I wondered if I would’ve known how to take care of you before we had kids. I thought being a good dad meant loving them and being home whenever hockey allowed it.” He released a broken breath. “Meanwhile, you learned how to do everything, and I started waiting for you to tell me how to help.”
“You do help.”
“When you ask.”
“You can’t read my mind.”
“I shouldn’t have to read your mind to know that two babies need baths every night. Or that the dishwasher needs unloading. Or that you haven’t gone anywhere alone in nearly a month.”
Your eyes closed “I didn’t say anything.”
“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have noticed.”
You thought about the way you had moved through the house unnoticed only hours earlier, packing bags, carrying your sleeping sons, leaving “You didn’t notice tonight,” you whispered.
Nathan inhaled sharply “No.”
“You didn’t notice me leave.”
“No,” he repeated, his voice full of shame. “And I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for that.”
You wiped another tear away “I thought you wanted us gone.”
“Never.”
“Then why didn’t you come upstairs?”
“I thought you were putting the boys down.”
“For nearly two hours?”
“I lost track of time.”
“That’s the problem, Nathan.”
“I know.” his agreement left you with nowhere to place your anger, you had expected him to defend himself, to tell you that you were overreacting, instead, he sounded devastated “I’m coming over,” he said.
“No.”
“Y/N—”
“I need space.”
“I need to see the boys.”
“They’re sleeping.”
“I need to see you.”
You closed your eyes “I can’t do this tonight.”
Nathan went silent, for a moment, all you could hear was his breathing, then he spoke quietly “Are you leaving me?” the fear in his voice broke through your anger
“I don’t know.” it was honest and cruel, Nathan made a sound like the words had physically hurt him “I don’t want to,” you added. “But I can’t go home tonight and pretend I didn’t hear any of it.”
“I’m not asking you to pretend.”
“I need to think.”
“Okay.” you hadn’t expected him to agree so quickly.
“Okay?” you repeated.
“If you need tonight, take tonight.” His voice shook. “But please don’t decide our entire marriage based on half a conversation.”
You looked toward the guest room “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Can I say goodnight to them?”
Your throat tightened “They’re asleep.”
“I know. Just put the phone near them for a second.” you stood and walked quietly into the guest room, the twins were sleeping peacefully, you held the phone between the two cribs, Nathan’s voice came softly through the speaker “Goodnight, Knox. Goodnight, Ryker. Dad loves you.”
Ryker shifted in his sleep, Nathan inhaled unevenly then he said, “I love your mom too.” you pulled the phone back “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you whispered.
“I love you.” You couldn’t say it back, not yet, you ended the call.
You barely slept.
Every time Knox or Ryker shifted, you opened your eyes, every time a car passed outside, you wondered whether Nathan had ignored you and driven over.
He didn’t, at seven in the morning, you found a message waiting on your phone.
I won’t come over until you say I can. I’m sorry I didn’t notice how alone you felt.
Another arrived an hour later.
I called my parents. They can help two afternoons a week when I’m traveling, but only if you’re comfortable. I’m also looking into getting more help around the house.
Then:
I know hiring help doesn’t fix me being absent when I’m standing in the same room. I’m going to fix that too.
You stared at the messages while Ryker sat on the floor beside you, banging two plastic blocks together, Knox crawled into your lap and tried to steal your phone “No, baby.” he grinned, for one second, you saw Nathan so clearly in his expression that your heart ached, your sister walked into the kitchen carrying two cups of coffee “You look terrible,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She sat across from you “Do you believe him?” you looked down at your wedding ring “I believe he loves the boys.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
Your eyes filled “I believe he loves me.”
“But?”
“But sometimes love doesn’t stop someone from wishing their life was different.”
Your sister considered that “Do you think he wishes it was different, or do you think he wishes it was easier?”
You looked toward your sons, Knox had taken one of Ryker’s blocks, Ryker immediately protested and attempted to crawl into his brother’s lap, you separated them before a fight could begin “I don’t know.”
“Then talk to him.”
Nathan arrived shortly after noon, you had told him he could come to your sister’s house, but you hadn’t told him whether you were returning home.
He looked like he hadn’t slept.
His clothes were wrinkled. His hair was messy. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, the second the door opened, Knox and Ryker recognized him “Dada!”
Both boys rushed toward him in their unsteady toddler walk.
Nathan dropped to his knees, he caught Knox first, then Ryker collided with his side, and Nathan pulled both boys against his chest, his eyes closed, you watched his shoulders tremble “Hey,” he whispered. “Hey, my boys.”
Knox grabbed Nathan’s face with both hands, Ryker buried his head against Nathan’s neck, Nathan kissed them repeatedly, their hair, their cheeks, their small hands, he didn’t seem embarrassed by the tears running down his face “I missed you,” he murmured.
They had been gone for less than a day, he held them as though it had been months, your sister quietly left the room.
Nathan eventually looked at you.
He remained on the floor with both boys in his lap “I’m sorry.” you folded your arms over your chest “I didn’t mean for you to think I regretted any of this.”
“But you do miss your old life.”
“Yes.” the answer stung despite everything he had explained, Nathan looked down at the twins “I miss parts of it,” he said. “I miss being able to focus on you. I miss how rested you used to look. I miss hearing you laugh more than once a week.”
“You make it sound like motherhood destroyed me.”
“It didn’t.” He shook his head. “But I think you’ve been giving everything to us, and I’ve been standing there accepting it.”
You swallowed “I love being their mom.”
“I know you do.”
“I don’t want you to think they’re a burden.”
“I don’t.” Nathan carefully moved the boys onto the rug with their toys, then he stood “I love being their dad,” he said. “Even when Ryker throws food at me. Even when Knox wakes up at five in the morning and acts like it’s lunchtime.”
Despite yourself, your mouth twitched, Nathan noticed but didn’t smile “I don’t want a life without them,” he continued. “I don’t want a life without you.”
“You said everything happened fast.”
“It did.” your eyes lowered “That doesn’t mean it was a mistake", tou looked at him again, Nathan stepped closer but left space between you “I can think we weren’t prepared and still believe they’re the best thing that ever happened to us.”
“They’re one now, Nate. How long are we going to use being unprepared as an excuse?”
“We’re not.” his voice was firm “I’m not going to use it as an excuse anymore.” you studied his face “I didn’t notice you leave,” he said. “You packed bags. You carried both boys out of our house. You loaded the car, and I didn’t notice.”
Your eyes burned “I know.”
“I’m ashamed of that.”
“You should be.”
“I am.” he didn’t defend himself, Nathan glanced toward the twins before looking back at you “I don’t want to be the kind of husband who realizes his wife is drowning only after she disappears.” a tear slipped down your cheek, Nathan’s hands flexed at his sides, but he didn’t touch you.
“I need you to understand why I left.”
“I do.”
“I didn’t take the boys to punish you.”
“I know.”
“I thought you wanted a version of your life where they didn’t exist.”
His face crumpled “Never.”
“You sounded like you regretted us.”
“I regret not taking care of us.” His voice broke. “That isn’t the same thing.”
You wiped your face “I miss you too,” you admitted, Nathan stared at you “I miss being your wife instead of feeling like your live-in babysitter.”
“You’re not.”
“That’s how I feel sometimes.”
He nodded slowly “Then I’ve failed you.”
“I don’t want you to call yourself a failure. I want things to change.”
“They will.”
“You can’t fix everything because you got scared one night.”
“I know.” Nathan took a careful step toward you. “I’m not asking you to trust one apology. I’m asking you to let me prove it over time.”
You looked at the man you had married, he looked exhausted, terrified and completely sincere “Do you regret marrying me?” you asked.
“No.”
“Do you regret the boys?”
“Not for one second.”
“Do you wish we had waited?”
Nathan thought before answering “I wish I had learned sooner that loving you wasn’t enough if I wasn’t paying attention to you.” your breath caught “But no,” he continued. “I don’t wish we had waited. If waiting meant Knox and Ryker wouldn’t be Knox and Ryker, I wouldn’t change anything.”
Behind him, Ryker squealed, Knox had placed a plastic bucket over his own head, Nathan turned at the sound, Knox stumbled forward blindly, Nate caught him before he could walk into the coffee table, he removed the bucket, Knox laughed wildly “See?” Nathan said, holding him against his side. “I’d miss this idiot.”
You laughed through your tears “He’s your son.”
“He definitely got that from you.”
“Excuse me?” for the first time since he arrived, Nathan smiled, it was small and cautious, Ryker reached upward, demanding to be held too, Nate lifted him with his free arm, he stood there carrying both boys, one on each hip.
Your family.
The life he had chosen, the life you had both nearly forgotten to protect “I want to go home,” you whispered, Nathan’s eyes widened “But I’m not pretending everything is fixed.”
“I don’t expect you to.”
“And I need things to actually change.”
“They will.”
“And if you ever miss me again, you tell me.”
“I will.”
“You don’t tell your friends while I’m upstairs taking care of our children.”
“I won’t.” you stepped closer, Nate shifted Knox to make room for you, you rested your head against his shoulder, careful not to crush Ryker between you.
Nathan’s arm wrapped around your waist.
His face pressed into your hair “I thought I lost you,” he whispered.
“You almost did.”
His hold tightened “I’m sorry.”
You closed your eyes “I know.”
Knox grabbed a handful of your hair, you winced, Nathan immediately loosened his grip “Knox, no.” Knox laughed, Ryker pressed his sticky hand against your cheek, you looked at Nathan “This is the life you miss escaping from?”
Nathan kissed your forehead “No,” he said. “This is the life I want to stop taking for granted.”
Things didn’t change overnight, Nate still had practices, he still traveled, the twins still woke too early and fought over identical toys.
But Nathan stopped waiting for instructions.
When he was home, he handled breakfast, he learned which cups Knox preferred and that Ryker would only eat bananas if they were cut into circles instead of slices, he began doing bedtime alone several nights a week, even when both boys screamed for you.
He encouraged you to leave the house.
Not to run errands, not to buy diapers, to do something for yourself, at first, you didn’t know what to do with the time, eventually, you remembered.
You met friends for lunch, you booked appointments you had been postponing, you spent one afternoon alone in a bookstore and came home with three novels you weren’t sure you would have time to read.
Nathan also arranged for his parents to watch the boys regularly.
The first evening you had alone together, he took you to the restaurant where you had celebrated your engagement, you wore a dress you hadn’t touched since before the twins were born, you felt nervous walking down the stairs.
Nathan stood near the front door, adjusting the sleeves of his shirt, when he saw you, he froze “What?” you asked.
He shook his head “Nothing.”
“Nathan.”
He walked toward you “I’m looking at my wife.” your expression softened “She’s been here the whole time.”
“I know.”
He placed his hands gently on your waist “I forgot to make sure she knew I could still see her.”
Your eyes burned, Nate kissed you slowly, there was no desperation in it, no attempt to erase what had happened.
It felt like a promise.
Later that night, you returned home to find Knox and Ryker asleep, Nathan checked the nursery before joining you in the bedroom, you were removing your earrings when he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.
His chin rested on your shoulder “You know I’d choose you again, right?” he asked.
You looked at him through the mirror “All of us?”
“All of you.”
He kissed the side of your neck “You, Knox, Ryker, the toys all over the floor. The five a.m. wake-ups. The food thrown at my head.”
You smiled “Even the diapers?”
Nathan hesitated “Almost everything.” you laughed, a cry came through the baby monitor, Nate rested his forehead against your shoulder “That’s Knox.”
“How can you tell?”
“He does that angry little yell before he starts actually crying.” a second cry joined the first “And that’s Ryker,” you said.
Nathan kissed your cheek “I’ve got them.”
“You don’t have to do both.”
“I want to.” he left the room, a few moments later, his voice came through the monitor “Hey, boys. Daddy’s here.”
Their crying gradually softened, you climbed into bed and listened as Nathan spoke quietly to them, he didn’t regret your marriage, he didn’t regret your children.
He had simply missed you while both of you were learning how to become parents without losing each other and this time, neither of you would wait until someone disappeared to admit it.
me when im on "x reader tag" looking for fics at 3 am BUT all i find is memes and all the funny posts under the world EXCEPT the fics abt the character :
May I request a little….more about chatterbox reader and Clark Kent? 🫣
chatterbox reader I have missed you!!! tbh I put myself in a box by the way I started this, but was too far in to redo. so I do apologise, this isn't my best work
search 'chatterbox' on my blog to find other posts relating to this one xx
NO SCREENS
clark kent x fem reader, 786 words, fluff
There are hours when your mind is far more active than others, times of the most inconvenience that your brain whirs with thought. It tends to happen at nighttime when you're all tucked up in bed, supposed to be sleeping.
Maybe it's just because it's so quiet that you have no choice but to listen your mind, or that you simply struggle to sleep at a reasonable hour. Whatever the reasoning may be, it had become a regular occurrence that Clark had grown to anticipate. He knew that when your head hit the pillow, you would not yet be ready for sleep like he is.
Clark's not like you in that sense, he can sleep anytime, anywhere. With these five-some minute you've spent together under the covers, Clark was already struggling to stay awake — to keep those big beautiful blue eyes of his open.
You however could not shut your own, they refused to give in and allow you the sleep you so clearly needed.
"Clark?" you whisper, calling his name gently. "Are you awake?"
You're tucked into his side, ear to his chest as you listen to the steady thumping of his heart. It should ease you, the repeated sound one of comfort; though that was not the case.
"Mhm?" he hums.
Barely awake.
With one hand situated above his stomach, you raise it slightly and use it as leverage — carefully pushing off on him so you can twist in to face him. Your head peers in his direction and you meet his fluttering eyes. He was very clearly making an effort so as not to drift off.
"I can't sleep."
He runs a hand down your spine, palm gliding down your tee like it was an attempt of soothing. His touch is heavy and deliberate as he strokes your back, fingers trying their best to offer comfort.
"Why not?" he whispers, tone low.
Clark's hand reaches the spot between your upper shoulder blades and his hold settles around the back of your neck for a moment. His skin to your own as he directs you, guiding you back into the placement where your head was nestled into a few moments ago.
"I don't know."
"What're you thinking about?" he asks, voice tired.
"I don't know, nothing really."
His hand on your head slides up and it's then that he encompasses it, holding you dearly with both his hand and arm. Almost like he's protecting your head. You didn't have to see him to know that he was fighting to stay awake. You just appreciate him wanting to selflessly indulge you.
"I think we should move the room around— I don't like the flow of anything. It doesn't work."
Clark strokes over your hair, fingers skirting across your scalp. "Why's that?" he asks, wording careful.
"It has a name, but I can't remember it… 'fun' something," you um and ah, unsure if it was even the word you were thinking about in the first place. "I'm really blanking on the word. I can't think of the name."
"It's okay," Clark responds, his hold firming atop the side of your head. Almost like it was an instinct to shield it. "Feng shui?"
"That's it, that's the word. I just don't think the layout works, you know. Maybe we just have too much stuff."
"Maybe," Clark utters.
"But I did see this really cute duvet cover ages ago though," you mention, dropping the hint that you wanted to add another set to your already extensive collection of bedding.
"Yeah?" he murmurs.
His breath evens beneath your ear, the repeated sound growing steady in his chest. It was a tell he was nearing sleep.
"I found it on my phone yesterday so I took a screenshot of the screenshot so I'd remember—"
But just as you begin to lift yourself from his chest, Clark's hold firms in it's rested position atop your head, the act an effort to keep you still. To stop you from doing what he knew you to be doing — reaching for your phone.
"Can I just show you? It'll be quick."
"No screens."
Something he often reiterates, 'no screens in bed'. A point he makes extensively about how it messes with your mind in your hours of sleep.
"I'll only—"
Clark cuts you off. "Honey," he hums, the pet name like a coo. "Bedtime."
"But—"
He smooths over your head, stroking it like it was an attempt to calm down the overactive contents inside. "It's late," he mutters, tired voice gentle.
He can keep himself up a short while more for you, he thinks. Rather, hopes. He can force himself to stay up as he knows he can't rest soundly when you're wide awake.
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How would sugar daddy Rafe react if he was having a formal dinner party/meeting with his investors and reader came stumbling in from a night out?🫣
𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: sugar daddy!Rafe Cameron x bratty!reader
𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 18+, minors dni, daddy kink, sugar daddy x baby relationship except they’re also actually in a relationship, age gap (Rafe is in early-mid 30s, reader is in early 20s), MAJORRR misogyny and sexism, objectification, babying, super condescending, SEXIST RAFE!, touching, fondling, inebriation, I think that’s it.
𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: Rafe’s having a business meeting and you decide to interrupt...
𝘼/𝙉: another surprise little drabble! I love writing these two, let me know what you think!
“Hiiiiii baby, I missed you soooo much!”
You should know better. And maybe if you weren’t drunk, you would’ve known better. You would’ve known that the door to the formal drawing room was shut for a reason. You would’ve known he had company. Important company. You would’ve known to keep yourself scarce from adult matters.
But you didn’t.
Rafe’s jaw tenses as you stumble into the room in a cloud of sexy perfume and the clickity clack of your heels against the polished wood flooring. He tries to keep his cool, watching closely as his associates’ eyes land on you. They were both potential investors on a new development deal he was trying to close. They’re completely distracted by you now though, eyes glued as you skip drunkenly across the grand room.
“Rafeeee,” you squeal, as if you haven’t seen him in decades. You stumble into his lap, in this insane little lace dress that barely covers your body. See through fabric, low cut neckline. Rafe wonders how he ever agreed to buy you something so slutty.
His hand automatically presses against the small of your back, pushing you gently upright into a sitting position in his lap while also tugging your dress down before you expose your ass. He hears one of the men chuckle.
“Who’s this little rocket?”
“Baby, say hello to my friends.” Rafe tries to keep his voice level. Inside, he’s half furious yet half amused. You look cute and needy, touching up on him all prettily like you always did when you were drunk. But he’s also aware this perhaps isn’t the best look, his girl drunk and scantily clad in front of his two very old school guests.
Your blink at one of the men with your mascara-rimmed eyes, “I’m not a rocket, I’m his girlfriend.”
The guy chuckles, “Oh really? Well, it’s lovely to meet you, sweetheart. Rafe, that’s a pretty little thing you’ve got there.”
Rafe knows they’re looking at you with lust. Most men did. And he liked to show you off like the pretty arm candy you could be. Especially if it helped close deals as important as this one.
“Yeah, she’s great.” Rafe smirks, tapping your butt lightly, “Say thank you, baby. He just gave you a compliment.”
You look like you couldn’t care less, too busy running your freshly manicured nails up and down the lapels of his jacket while you made yourself comfortable on his lap, “Thanks,” you say dismissively, barely looking at the guy before batting your eyelashes at Rafe, “Could you put me to bed, daddy?”
Booming laughs echo across the room. Rafe wants to roll his eyes but he’s also getting hard at how innocent you sound. You were a brat through and through, and yet so cute and needy when you were drunk. That was half the reason he still allowed you to go out partying like this sometimes. Well, it was more like an ongoing game between the two of you. He’d “forbid” you from going out, you’d sneak out anyways, he’d proceed to fuck the living daylights out of you to tame you for the next couple weeks. Rinse and repeat.
Rafe snorts, “I’m busy right now. And you know you’re not allowed in here when I’m working.”
You pout, all glittery makeup and shiny cheeks. Smelling like some fruity pink cocktail that you’ve probably had one too many of. Arms wind around his neck, “But that’s unfairrrr.”
One of the men smirks, “You spoil this little princess rotten, don’t you?”
They both look like they’re about to start drooling any second. What with how you’re completely unaware of how your tits are almost spilling out of your dress, making your cleavage look incredible. Not to mention you smelled so irresistibly sweet like candy, mixed with something else. Something so fucking sexy, he almost has to adjust himself in his pants.
“Rafey, please,” you frown cutely, pressing kisses on his jaw, “can’t sleep without you.”
“Need him to read you a bedtime story, honey?” One of the men guffaws. Rafe eyes him warily, not missing how he and the other one both stare at you with an envious kind of lust. It makes him feel powerful, knowing that to men like them, women are nothing more than currency and a pretty ornament to decorate a man’s lap.
Rafe can’t entirely disagree with that.
“She gets needy when she’s drunk,” He chuckles, squeezing your ass then grabbing your chin to make you stop kissing him, “Baby, I’ll tuck you in when I’m done working.”
“No, now!”
He looks at you sternly, and despite your inebriated state you lower your gaze. Like you know you’re pushing it. Like you know exactly what he’s capable of if you take it too far and it’s no longer all fun and games. He feeds you his thumb, lets you suck on it to calm yourself down from whatever tantrum you were on the verge of throwing. His bratty little girl, always throwing tantrums, always working yourself up. But he could control you when he needed to. And his guests can see that too.
You sit quiet and pretty on his lap from that point onwards. Like a good little doll, letting him fondle and touch you every now and then while he casually talks to his associates. Squeezing your ass, your hip, playing with your fingers. Stroking your bare thigh, fingering the lacy strap of your dress which keeps slipping down your shoulder. And you let him. In fact, you snuggle up into him even more, wrapping yourself around him like a koala. Sucking on his thumb like a baby and it’s getting him so fucking hard.
“She do that a lot?” One of the men asks, transfixed at the sight.
Rafe smirks, “She does whatever I want her to.” He removes his thumb from your mouth and you whine drunkenly, “don’t you, baby?”
“Yeah.”
Fuck, he gets off on the power he has over you. His spoiled little princess, who got whatever she wanted so long as she did whatever he wanted. And he bets he could make you do anything if he wanted to. Give him a fucking lap dance in front of both these fucking men, or let him fuck you in front of them too. Casually, his hand slips up to play with your tits, brazenly cupping one through the sorry material of your dress. Just because he can. He smiles when you suck your breath in harshly, and yet you don’t dare push his hand off. You knew all too well what would happen if you did.
They continue talking business, Rafe sipping his whisky while he keeps you steady in his lap. He knows he’s giving these men a show, knows they’d go home tonight to their average wives who weren’t even one percent as hot as you. Rafe had you, owned you. And they were all envious of him. Goddamned rocket was right, you were a fucking firecracker and you were all his.
Fucking you tonight would be a great reward for the deal he’s about to close.
Finally, the old fucks get up to leave after accepting the deal and shaking on it.
“We should head out. Can’t keep this sweetheart waiting for too long, can we honey?” One of them asks you.
You blink sleepily, cuddling even more into Rafe because suddenly you’ve decided you were shy. It amuses him no end.
“You should bring her to the club next time. While we play golf.”
That grabs your attention, and you tug at Rafe’s collar, batting your lashes up at him cutely, “I like the cute golf outfits. Will you buy me one, dada?”
“If you’re good,” Rafe taps your cheek condescendingly, knowing full well his card details were saved on your phone and you could buy whatever you wanted without having to ask him ever. “Now say goodbye to my guests.”
You do, albeit begrudgingly. They don’t seem bothered, in fact they look downright charmed.
“Don’t have too much fun tonight, Rafe.”
He leaves you on his armchair while he sees the men out. When he returns, you’re half asleep. Looking every bit as cute and sexy as always. Fuck, he just wants to devour you for how slutty you’d acted tonight.
Your eyes flutter open, and you immediately make grabby hands at him. Gone from being bratty to needy in record time.
“Daddy, bed please.” You smile sweetly up at him, a smug satisfaction in your eyes now that the men were finally gone and you knew he could shift all his attention on to you.
“You’re a goddamn piece of work, you know that?”
You pout, making grabby hands at him till he scoops you up into his arms. Then squeal when he throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, slapping your ass hard multiple times.
“Don’t worry, baby. I won’t bruise you up too bad. Gotta take you to the country club tomorrow, show you off a bit more.” He squeezes your tender ass, it’s bare because your tiny dress has ridden all the way up. “But you’re still in for it tonight.”
yeah so… I don’t even know!!! let me know what you think y’all 😭😭😭 reblogs and comments mean everything!!! 💞
summary; rafe is the president of the biggest party frat on greek row, and his sweetheart girlfriend meets his frat brothers for the first time, under less than great circumstances.
warnings; veryyyyyy ooc rafe (like sue me), sensitive!reader, slightly smut at the end but barely, so it would make me more comfy if mdni!
Rafe's hand was tight on your thigh while he drove you guys to the library on campus. Your english lit books stuffed into your tote, and your uggs snug on your feet as you prepared to have a full studying day with Rafe.
You were already sceptical of the idea the second he brought it up. He pushed the proposed study date the second you refused to hang out with him until your lit final was out of the way.
Rafe was smart sure, majoring in finance and on his way to securing a high position after graduation. However, he wasn't the most academic person you had come across, preferring study the playbooks for his next football game.
So, you knew not much focused study could come from his day, but your boyfriend refused to not see you for the 2 weeks until your final was over.
He picked you up in his far to massive truck, getting out of the drivers side to kiss you good morning and lift you up into the passenger seat next to him.
He was tapping the beat of the music that echoed out of his car speakers, a backwards cap resting on his head and his lettermans jacked slung over his broad shoulders.
You listened to him babble on and on about him and his fraternity brothers recent escapades on campus. A story about how they climbed up the flag pole that stood in the middle of the college and tied their fraternity flag to the top of it in the middle of the night.
His smirk was bright on his face, perking up when you laughed at his recount of that night. You lifted your pale pink water bottle out of his cup holder that you always kept there, remembering you filled it up only the day before.
What you didn't recall though, was the fact that you hadn't screwed the top all the way. Meaning, when you brought it over to your body, it spilled all over you before you could lift it up to your lips.
Rafe turned his head swiftly at your squeal, your waterbottle now empty in your hand and its contents all over you.
The water covered nearly the whole front of your top, the white fabric of your baby tee now turning see through due to the liquid, revealing the lace pink bra you threw on before leaving your dorm.
"Shit, baby" Rafe sighed, watching as your eyes went glossy as the tears rose through you.
It would be an understatement if you said you cried often. But with all stress pushing a heavy weight on you due to your looming final, you couldn't help but cry over spilt water.
Rafe's eyes went back to the road, pulling into an empty space and parking.
"Hey, hey. Don't cry. Please don't cry." He begged, bringing his hand up to your cheek and wiping a stray tear that had fallen. He turns away, rummaging around his truck to see if he could find anything to dry you with.
"Rafe, its cold" you whisper, cringing at how whiny your voice sounded. This would be the only moment in your life you regretted how well your water bottle kept your water cold.
Rafe's hands continued to search his glove box and console, failing to find anything but old receipts and sonny angels you had left in his car.
"Shit" He whispered, looking back at you and then the area he had pulled over in. "The frat is not even 2 minutes away, we can run in and get you a dry shirt, yeah?"
You nodded swiftly, any anxious thoughts about entering his frat failing to enter your mind as the feeling of your shirt sticking to your chest and shivers rushing through you overtook your senses.
Rafe pulled his truck out rather dangerously fast, the hand that wasn't gripping the steering wheel finding your hand to clutch it tightly.
His large hand swallowed yours, grounding you as the sensation of your sticky shirt clung to your like a life line. Your tucked your lip under your teeth to halt its relentless wobbling as the tears ran softly down your cheeks.
Okay, maybe your brother was right when she said you were a crybaby.
Rafe turned his head over to look out through his rear window, pulling in to his carpark at his frat, the 'Fraternity President' sign standing proudly at the front of the car space.
He turned off the engine, unbuckling his seatbelt and hopping out of his seat. Rafe walked around to your side, opening the door and reaching over to unbuckle your seat belt before placing his hands on your waist and effortlessly lifting you of his truck.
The fall breeze sent goosebumps down your thighs, nipping at the wet fabric of your shirt and threatening your teeth to chatter at the cold.
He held your hand once more as he guided you up the cobblestone walk way that brought you to the stairs that lead to his fraternity.
Your head craned up to the view of the massive house that stood on greek row. Large white columns stood in your view, vast windows spread across the walls, black greek symbols decorated the space that met the roof proudly.
You and Rafe had only been dating for 2 months now, preferring to stay in the cozy four walls of your dorm than his fraternity that was decorated by littered red solo cups and empty beer bottles.
It would be a lie to say Rafe wasn't putting off introducing you to his frat brothers. He wasn't embarrassed of you, far from it.
He loved his friends, alot. But he was, well, maybe just a tad worried they would scare you off.
You weren't in a sorority. You didn't frequent greek row for the weekend parties. You topped nearly all of your classes, spending the weekends cozied up with your roommate eating ice cream and clad in silk pyjamas.
Rafe knew you were too good for him. Too smart. Too pretty. Too pure.
His thoughts were interrupted as you stood at the front door that lead into his fraternity. Rafe reached into the pocket of his letterman jacket, pulling out his key card and moving to push it against the reader on the front door.
"Rafe, wait." You gasped, pulling your hand out of his and stepping back. He turned to you, looking down at your eyes that stared back up at him.
"Look at me" You voiced, his gaze following your hands that swept over your frame. He hadn't noticed during his frantic haze to do anything to cease your tears how your white shirt was fully see-through, your bra fully now visible.
His lips upturned into a smirk, raking his eyes up and down your frame. "Yeah, i am. And i'm loving it"
You reached up and smacked his shoulder, not finding this situation as amusing as he was.
"Ok, ok. Sorry baby. Here"
He shrugged his letterman jacket off his frame, resting it over your shoulders as the smell of his Cologne clouded your sense. You interested your arms into the jacket, the fabric nearly swallowing you whole as you used it to bring around your front and cover your shirt.
Rafe's hand was clasped into yours once again, his biceps straining against his navy tee as he pressed unlocked the door with his key card.
"Ok, We just gotta run up to my room real quick. We'll be in and out." He voiced, turning to give you a searing kiss on your cheek.
You were surprised to find the house rather cleaner than you expected. Rafe told you that there was a party here last night, that he kindly described as "Shit"
You half expected to see drunk guys passed out on the floor and empty liquor bottles resting on every surface.
But the floor was free from unconscious bodies and suspicious liquids. However, remnants of the night before still remained through the folded up ping pong table resting on the wall and trash bags brimming with beer cans waiting to be taken out at the door.
"Rafey! Back so soon?" A voice cheered, the floorboards of the stairs creaking as a body bounded down them.
A blonde boy only clad in checkered pyjama pants appeared in your view only seconds later, his expression dropping and his eyes found yours before darting back to Rafe.
"Oh my god!" The boy gasped, dramatically bringing his hands up to his mouth in exaggerated shock. "You're real!"
Your brows furrowed at the statement, looking up at Rafe next to you who was rolling his eyes. "Fuck off Top" Rafe spoke, his hand dragging down his face as an amused smile painted his lips.
"Well, Are you gonna finally introduce me?" The boy spoke, looking at Rafe expectantly.
Rafe rolled his eyes once more, looking down at you adoringly.
"This is Topper. Topper, This is my girlfriend" Rafe spoke, finishing of the sentence with your name. You smiled as the boy suddenly brought you into a bounding hug, grinning from ear to ear as he released you.
"We were starting to think our Rafe made you up!" Topper smiled, putting his hands up in surrender as Rafe placed his hand against his chest and pushed him away from you.
"Nope, I'm pretty real the last time i checked" You voiced, laughing softly.
"Hey, you're funny. I like you" Topper smiled, pointing at you jokingly.
"Ok, This was fun." Rafe stated sarcastically, reaching his hand to rest on the small of your back and guiding you up the stairs.
"Hey! The other boys are gonna want to meet her!" Topper yelled behind you, Rafe not even looking back as he replied with a middle finger directed back at Topper.
Rafe had never been more glad all of his friends were to hungover from the night before to leave their rooms.
"He's nice!" You whispered to Rafe as you two walked up the stairs as he lead you to his dorm. Rafe looked down at you, a smirk still present on his lips.
"He's annoying"
You smiled back, hearing the adoration thick in his tone despite his statement.
Rafe guided you down the long hallway of doors, reaching the end and using his keycard once more to open the door to his room. Pushing you inside softly and closing the door behind him.
His room was exactly what you pictured. Somehow messy but still clean.
It smelled exactly like him, like cologne and the soft scent of his occasional cigarettes he indulged in when stressed. Occasional picture frames decorated his dresser and desk, pictures of him and his friends holding up a football trophy and him and his little sisters when they were little.
One frame caught your eye, the only one that rested on his bed side table. In it, was you. Not even aware of the camera as Rafe shot the picture.
You remember that day vividly, because it was the day Rafe asked you to be his girlfriend.
A flower crown rested softly on your head, the sun kissing your skin as you looked up through the trees in the field Rafe took you to, an hour drive out of campus.
You stood out like a sore thumb in the muted tones of his room, standing awkwardly before Rafe rested you down on his haphazardly made bed, quickly going to rummage around in his draws for a shirt for you to wear.
You watched him as he found one, shutting his dresser draw before walking over to you.
He looked down at you intently as he lifted his letterman jacket of you, instructing you after the fact to lift your arms up.
You couldn't help but bite your lip as he peeled the still soaking wet top off of you slowly, watching as his eyes drifted down to your chest now only clad in your bra.
He reached for the top, halting as you suddenly spoke. "Rafe, wait"
You reached for his hand, guiding it slowly to the clasp of your bra on your back. "It's soaking too"
Rafe ticked his jaw at your statement, running his tounge over his teeth at your teasing.
He couldn't help but lean down to catch your lips in a heated kiss, swiftly unclasping your bra before pulling back and staring at your bare chest.
You pulled further away from his, reaching for the shirt he brought you and putting it on.
"You're such a fucking tease" He gasped, embarrassed his hard on was growing under his grey sweats further at the sight of you in his grey football shirt. Your college logo etched on the front and the list of the championship winning team on the back, his name proudly stamped first under Quaterback.
You giggled softly at his statement, reaching up to pull the collar of his tee-shirt and guiding him down to your lips once more.
His hands rested heavily on your thighs, picking you up effortlessly to switch positions so he was now sat at the foot of his bed. You now sat on his lap and bringing your legs around to straddle him.
Your hands lifted up to rest on his jaw, your tongues now interlocking as you made out.
He brought his hands down to the waistband of your leggings, hooking his fingers under the fabric as his touch left a searing heat on your skin.
You pulled out of the kiss, causing him to groan at the lose of contact. "I'm glad i could finally meet one of your friends." You sighed, out of breath as you rested your forehead onto his.
"Yeah? Me too." He smiled, feeling a weight now being pulled of his shoulders that he didn't even know was there.
He leaned forward once more to catch your lips in another kiss, the feeling of your ass on his dick making the tent in his pants grow even harder.
But the feeling was short lived, as you two were swiftly taken out of your little bubble.
The sound of fists banging on his door boomed through his room, making you jump and lift yourself off his lap and stand up straight.
"Rafe! We know she's in there" "Let us meet her!" "C'mon bro!" "Topper got to, It's not fair!" "Open up!"
Rafe rolled his eyes at the sound of his friends yelling through the door, lifting himself off his bed and adjusting his dick in his pants.
pairing: Quinn Hughes x FemaleReader
description: you interrupt Quinn during his important game tape review, he teaches you the consequences of interrupting his focus.
TW: MDNI, Smut, dominant/submissive dynamics, vaginal sex, cockwarming, edging/orgasm control, creampie, unprotected sex, praise kink, degrading language (slut).
The living room is bathed in the soft, ambient glow of the TV, the blue light flickering intermittently across Quinn's face. He sits sprawled on the oversized leather sofa, legs extended, his sweatshirt carelessly on the floor. A large bowl of pretzels sits on the coffee table, but his attention is entirely consumed by the replay in front of him.
Beside him, you shift restlessly. You've been trying to occupy yourself for the last hour, scrolling through your phone and trying to read a book, but the proximity of Quinn is a physical weight that your focus can't shake.
You glance at the TV screen where the replay pauses on a defensive rotation, but your eyes drift back to him. Quinn's jaw is set in that familiar, focused expression, his brow furrowed as he analyzes the play. He looks devastatingly handsome, the sharp angles of his face illuminated by the screen. You feel that familiar heat pool in your lower belly, a traitorous combination of adoration and a deep, desperate need.
"Quinn," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the low hum of the surround sound. You reach out, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.
He doesn't turn away from the screen. "Mm?" he hums, his voice rough and gravelly, the sound sending a jolt straight through you. He doesn't look at you, his gaze fixed on the TV, but he doesn't pull away from your touch either.
You move closer, your hand sliding down to rest on his chest. Through his t-shirt, you can feel the steady, rhythmic thrum of his heart. You press yourself against him, leaning in to place a soft, chaste kiss on the side of his neck.
Quinn shifts his weight, but doesn't stop watching. "You're distracting me," he murmurs, not unkindly, but with a trace of frustration in his tone. "I need to watch this. Game's in two days."
"I know," you breathe, your nose nuzzling against the sensitive skin behind his ear. "But I need you." You let your hand wander lower, your fingers tracing the waistband of his sweatpants, just hovering over the skin. "I need you inside me. Right now."
Quinn lets out a low, exasperated sound that you can't quite place. It sounds like a warning. He finally shifts his gaze from the screen to look at you, his eyes dark, intense and almost predatory. He takes your hand in his, his grip firm, and guides it away from his waistband.
"Not right now, baby," he says, his voice dropping an octave, rougher than before. "I'm concentrating. Watch this with me. I'll handle you in a bit. After the tape."
You pout, feeling the heat in your cheeks rise. "But I need you right now," you whine softly, letting your head fall onto his shoulder.
Quinn smirks, the corner of his lip quirking up. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer, his hand coming up to tangle his fingers in your hair. "You're always so needy," he says, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your scalp. "And I love it. But right now, I need to focus."
He reaches over and pauses the tape. The silence that fills the room is heavy, the only sound being your own ragged breathing and the sound of the A/C humming. He looks at you, his expression unreadable, but his eyes hold a glint of something that makes your knees weak.
You reach out to touch him again.
"You're really desperate for my attention right now, aren't you, baby?" he asks, his voice low and husky. "I will make you a deal. You're going to sit on my lap like a good girl, you're going to let me finish this tape and you're not going to make a sound. Then I'll fuck you like you need me to. Deal?"
Your heart hammers against your ribs. The dominant edge in his voice sends a fresh wave of desire crashing through you. You nod eagerly, your mouth going dry. "Deal," you whisper.
Quinn leans forward and presses play on the remote, the replay resuming. He leans back into the cushions, settling into his seat. "Come here," he commands, patting his thigh.
You climb onto his lap, straddling him. You sink down, feeling the thick, hard length of him pressing against you through the fabric of his sweatpants. You adjust, trying to find a comfortable position, but his erection is undeniable. It presses insistently against you, demanding attention.
Quinn groans low in his throat, his hand immediately moving to grip your hips, holding you firmly in place. "Don't move," he warns.
You try to obey, your legs trembling slightly as you settle onto him. The friction of his erection against you is maddening, a constant, teasing pressure that has you moaning softly in your throat.
"You're so wet already," he murmurs, his hand sliding up your shirt to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple through the lace of your bra. "You're soaking for me."
You can't help it. You let out a small gasp, your back arching slightly. "Quinn," you whine, your hips bucking instinctively.
He tightens his grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin. "Quiet," he whispers, his lips hovering near your ear. "Don't talk. Just watch."
He reaches down and tugs at the waistband of his sweatpants, freeing his hard cock. Your eyes widen at the sight of it, thick and throbbing with need. He grips the base, positioning it upright against his stomach.
"Pull your panties to the side," he commands, his voice low and authoritative.
Your hands tremble as you obey, hooking your fingers in the delicate lace and pulling the fabric aside, exposing your wet, swollen folds. Quinn guides your hips down, and you gasp as the head of his cock presses against your entrance.
"Slowly," he warns, his hands gripping your hips firmly. "Take it all in, but don't move once you're settled."
You sink down inch by inch, your body stretching to accommodate his impressive size. The feeling of him filling you so completely, so slowly, is almost overwhelming. When you're finally fully seated, his cock buried deep inside you, you let out a shaky breath, your hands gripping his shoulders for support.
"Good girl," he murmurs, his eyes still fixed on the TV screen. "Now stay still. Let me feel you wrapped around my cock while I watch this tape."
You try to obey, your legs trembling with the effort of remaining motionless. The feeling of him inside you, hot and hard, is a constant reminder of your submission. Every time he shifts slightly beneath you, you feel a jolt of pleasure shoot through your body.
The replay of the game continues on the TV, the players moving in slow motion, but your focus is entirely on the sensation of Quinn sitting beneath you. He is hard as a rock, and the feeling of him stretching you, filling you so completely, is driving you insane. You bite down on your lip, trying to suppress a moan, but it escapes anyway.
Quinn chuckles darkly, his hand sliding down to rest on your lower back, rubbing soothing circles. "Look at you," he whispers. "So desperate to move, so desperate to be fucked. You're such a slut for me, aren't you? Sitting here with my cock buried deep inside you, just waiting for me to use you."
You whine softly, your hips instinctively trying to grind against him, but his firm grip on your waist prevents any movement. "Quinn," you breathe, your eyes fluttering open to look at him.
He catches your gaze, his eyes dark and intense. "Don't look away. Watch the tape, baby."
You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, trying to regain control of your body, but the feel of him inside you is too much. Your breathing grows shallow and ragged. The fullness, the heat, the way he feels so perfect inside you is maddening, and you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.
"Please," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "Please, Quinn."
He smirks, his hand sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple through the lace of your bra. "Please what, baby? Please fuck you? Not yet. I'm still watching the tape. You're going to sit there with my cock stretching your tight little pussy until I'm done. Understand?"
You nod frantically, your eyes wide with need. "Yes," you whisper.
"Good girl," he murmurs, his eyes drifting back to the screen. "Now let me concentrate."
The minutes stretch on, each one feeling like an eternity. The feeling of him inside you, hot and hard, is a constant reminder of your submission. Every time he shifts slightly beneath you, you feel a jolt of pleasure shoot through your body. You try to focus on the game, but it's impossible.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Quinn shifts beneath you, his hips moving slightly. "Almost done," he murmurs, his eyes still fixed on the screen. "Just a few more minutes. Can you handle that, baby?"
You nod frantically, your body trembling with need. "Yes," you whisper.
"Good girl," he murmurs, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip.
He lets the final minutes of the tape play out, the commentary droning on about a missed power play opportunity, but you're barely hearing it. Your world has narrowed to the delicious, torturous stretch of him inside you, the way his hands feel branding your hips, the low rumble of his voice vibrating through his chest and into yours. You're a trembling mess, slick with sweat and desperate for the release he's withholding.
Finally, he hits a button on the remote. The screen goes black, and the sudden silence in the room is deafening, broken only by your ragged, shallow breaths.
"There," he says, his voice a low, satisfied purr. "All done." He shifts beneath you, and the movement sends a shockwave of pleasure so intense through your body that you cry out, your head falling back. "Now, where were we?"
His hands slide from your hips to your ass, gripping the flesh firmly and pulling you even tighter against him. The change in angle makes his cock press against that perfect spot deep inside you, and your vision whites out for a moment.
"Quinn," you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders. "Please."
"Please what?" he asks, his voice dropping to that dangerous, dominant tone that makes you tremble. "Tell me what you need, baby."
"You," you whine, your hips trying to move, to find some friction, but his grip is like iron. "I need you to fuck me. Please, Quinn, I've been so good."
He chuckles, a dark, wicked sound. "You have been good," he concedes, his thumbs stroking the skin just below the curve of your ass. "The best. Sitting there, taking my cock like a perfect little toy. I think you've earned a reward."
Without another word, he lifts you slightly, his hands under your thighs, and then slams you back down onto his cock. The sudden, deep thrust rips a scream from your throat. He doesn't stop. He sets a punishing rhythm, lifting you up and pulling you back down, using your body to fuck himself. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, loud and carnal and utterly obscene.
"That's it," he growls, his eyes fixed on where your bodies are joined. "Take it. Take every fucking inch. You wanted this, didn't you? Wanted me to fill you up while I watched the game."
"Yes," you sob, your head lolling forward onto his shoulder. "Yes, Quinn."
He wraps one arm around your waist, holding you flush against him, while his other hand tangles in your hair, pulling your head back so he can look at you. His eyes are dark, feral with lust. "Look at me," he commands. "I want to see your face when you come."
His hips begin to snap up to meet yours, his strokes becoming faster, harder. He's hitting that spot inside you over and over again, a relentless, perfect rhythm that's pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You can feel the coil of pleasure tightening in your lower belly, threatening to snap.
"You're so tight," he groans, his lips brushing against yours. "So fucking wet for me. You're going to come all over my cock, aren't you? Going to make a mess for me?"
You can only nod, your mouth open in a silent scream as the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak.
"Come for me, baby," he orders, his voice a rough command. "Now."
His words are your undoing. The orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, a blinding, all-consuming rush of pleasure that steals your breath. Your body convulses, your pussy clamping down around his cock like a vice. You scream his name, your nails raking down his back as you ride out the waves.
"Fuck, yes," he growls, his hips bucking wildly as he chases his own release. "That's it. Milk my cock. Take every last drop."
With a final, deep thrust, he buries himself to the hilt and groans, his body shuddering as he spills himself inside you. You feel the hot flood of his release, the final, intimate claiming that sends another, smaller orgasm through you.
For a long moment, you just stay like that, tangled together, your bodies slick with sweat and the aftermath of your passion. His chest heaves against yours, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm that matches your own. He presses soft, lazy kisses to your neck and shoulder, his hands stroking your back in a soothing, gentle gesture.
"Good girl," he whispers, his voice soft and loving, the dominant edge replaced with something tender. "You did so well for me."
You pant, your heart hammering against your ribcage. You feel like jelly, completely drained of all energy. You look down at him, seeing the satisfied, contented smile on his face.
He leans in and kisses you, a deep, passionate kiss that tastes of sweat and sex and pure satisfaction. You melt into him, your body relaxing against his.
"Did you like that?" he asks, his voice soft now, a low rumble against your ear.
You can only nod, your body still trembling from the intensity of it all. He smiles, his thumb stroking your cheek gently.
"Good," he says, his voice dropping back to that low, dominant tone, though it's laced with affection now. "Because next time, I might just make you sit through the whole game like that."
Prompt: you rarely sleepwalk, so of course you end up sleepwalking while staying with will’s family during the summer. but luckily will is quick to help you
Warnings: sleepwalking (which I’ve only experienced a handful of times with people so I’m hoping this is accurate)
requested!
You were over the moon when Will’s mom Colleen called you one afternoon asking for both you and Will to come stay at their lake house in Boston during the off season. You guys were on a plane in an instant back to where Will grew up.
You’ve visited Boston only a handful of times, being born and raised half the country away didn’t make for much time for you to be in that area.
So, you and Will did it all. He showed you everything he loves, you’ve done boat days, fishing, golfing, shopping town days, you name it. Boston, had begun to feel like your home too, or a home away from home as you tell Will.
By a week into the trip you are exhausted, but that good kind of exhausted where you feel so at peace and so happy. But, that’s what you think triggered it. Not that you could blame anyone else for your lack of sleep. After all, it was you who chose to stay up every night around the fire with Will and his sister Grace, and it was you who insisted on sneaking out in the dark for a midnight lake runs with Will.
So tonight, the family also equally exhausted, all turned in early. After your shower, washing off a mix of sunscreen, tanning oil and lake water, you walk into the room you and Will are staying in, drop your towel, and pick up his sharks t-shirt. It fits you in that perfect way, coming down to mid thigh. So again, it was you who chose to stay up with Will as he showed you just how much he loved the look of you in his clothing.
But now, it is past 1am, and Will is sprawled out over the bed, his arms reaching out like they are searching for you, only your side of the bed is cold.
—
Colleen walks slowly down the stairs to the kitchen, slowly blinking sleep out of her eyes, but she freezes as she hears a faint clicking coming from downstairs. Clicking which sounds like the door lock on the sliding glass doors that lead to the patio.
She frowns, walking fully up. And as she slowly looks around the corner, she sees you.
You’re standing in front of the doors, your hand pulling uselessly on the lock. Your hair is curly from all the lake water, but plopped in a huge bun on your head, pieces falling down on the sides of your face. Will’s Sharks t-shirt covers your frame, but it’s large enough on you that it leans off one of your sun tanned shoulders.
“Honey?” She says, squinting a bit as she walks closer to you.
But you don’t look towards her, it’s almost like you didn’t even hear her. You just keep pulling on the lock, your breathing labored, panicked sounding almost.
“Sweetie.” She says, a bit more firmly but still coated in softness and comfort.
Your head moves towards her at that. As Colleen takes in your appearance her heart hammers. You look… different. Your eyes are glassy and slightly squinted. Your body is stiff and you seem like you’re floating somewhere else.
That’s when it hits her, she remembers it clear as day. A phone call she had with her son a long time ago when she asked how you were doing. Will had told her about this.
“She’s okay. Work’s been taking a lot out of her recently, she actually started sleepwalking occasionally.”
“Sleepwalking?” Colleen parroted back to him.
“Yeah, it’s rare. She only does it when she’s overly tired. Freaked me out the first time, I honestly didn’t know she was asleep.”
So Colleen makes sure her expression is soft and loving, her normal expression when she is talking to you, and she listens as you finally manage to speak.
“I have to get him.” You mumble, your voice so soft she could have easily missed it.
“Get who, honey?” Colleen asks you.
“Rigney.” You say, turning back towards the lock.
Colleen’s eyes flick to the chair in the living room, where Rigney is lying, perfectly safe, and still asleep. She glances back to you, wanting nothing more than to show you the family’s dog is inside, but it seems evident that you’re not abandoning the door without some persuasion.
“Rigney’s inside already, sweetie.” Colleen says very gently, trying not to startle you. “He’s in his normal chair in the living room.”
“No. He’s cold. Colleen he’s out there.” You say, a slight panic starting to rise in your tone. Your glossy eyes get glossier as you beg her to hear you, beg her to listen to you.
“Okay, okay.” She says, stepping closer and noting the shaking of your hands, and the way your chest moves rapidly. “Why don’t you sit down quick and I’ll go grab Will. He’ll help us look okay?”
“Will?” You question, and for a second she swears she can see the fully awake you at the sound of her son’s name.
“That’s right.” Colleen says, leading you so carefully that you think it’s your choice to sit down. “You stay right here while I grab him, alright?”
You only nod in response, but your eyes stay locked on the doors. “Tell Will to hurry, he’s all alone out there, I don’t want him to be scared.” You whimper, and Colleen’s heart cracks at how upset you sound. She’s a mother after all, she wants to fix this, wants to protect you from this, but she knows it’s not her that you need. So Colleen moves quickly, trying to stay silent so she doesn’t wake the rest of the house. She opens the bedroom door, and goes to the side of the bed that Will is sleeping on.
“Will.” She says, setting her hand on his shoulder, but he doesn’t budge. “Will.” She says again, a bit louder as she shakes him lightly.
Will opens his eyes, and takes only a second before he’s looking at his mom in worry. That’s when he notices you’re gone, and the sheets are cold enough to tell him you’ve been gone for quite some time. Will’s heart leaps out of his chest, you missing, his mom looking a bit panicked.
“Mom-“
“She’s alright. She’s downstairs, I think she might be sleep walking.”
Will didn’t need to hear anything else, he didn’t bother with a shirt or shoes as he starts going down the steps. He knows not to startle you, so as he walks into the kitchen he does so as calmly as possible.
“Baby?” He asks, as he sees you. Sees the way you’re stiff, and as if you’re not really here. You turn your face towards his at the sound of his voice.
“Will, he’s out there.” You say, standing up in panic as Will makes his way over to you. He’s crouching a bit, trying to stay eye level with you.
“Who’s out there?” Will asks you, and it kills him to not reach out and tuck your curly strands of hair behind your ears.
“Rigney.” You say, and you choke on the name.
Colleen looks at Will, and he tracks her eyes over to the chair where Rigney is still sound asleep.
“Okay, well let me sit down and put my shoes on and we’ll go look.” Will says, secretly trying to lead you into the living room. You follow him blindly, like you always do.
But then your brain freezes when you hear the familiar shake of metal dog tags, and all of a sudden a wet nose comes and pokes your shin.
“See baby? He’s inside, he’s safe.”
“But he was-“ you start to say, pointing to the doors. “He was out there, and he was cold.” You try to justify.
Rigney jumps on the couch, and Will watches as you reach your hand out and touch the soft fur of the dog.
“He’s warm, he’s here with us.” Will comforts you as tears leak from your eyes. “Hey, hey.” He says, and even in your sleeping state you throw yourself against his chest. The warmth of his skin grounds you, just as much as the familiar smell of his body wash.
Colleen smiles sadly and looks away as Will comforts you. His hand on the back of your head, while one runs up and down your spine through his t-shirt. He waits, while throwing small comforting words in here and there until your cries soften.
“He’s safe?” You ask one more time, and Will smiles at you, your glossy eyes shining in the light of the moon that’s filling the living room.
“He’s safe. Just like you.” He says. “Do you want him to sleep with us tonight? That way we can watch him?” Will asks, and you just nod, tears back in a steady stream down your cheeks. His wipes them away with his thumb, and your eyes stay glued to the dog like he might vanish if you look away.
Getting you to believe Rigney was in the house wasn’t very challenging, but getting you back up the stairs proved to be more difficult than he thought. Rigney of course bolted straight up, making a beeline for the room. You took the steps slowly, Will next to you the entire time. Halfway through you just stopped, and he quietly and calmly reassures you that Rigney is probably sitting on your pillows waiting for you.
Colleen stayed behind you the entire time, far enough away so you don’t feel crowded, but close enough that if for whatever reason you fell backwards she was there to catch you.
But most importantly, they didn’t rush you. They took each step one at a time, and in your hazy fog and confusion, you let Will guide you. By the time Colleen made it to the top step, she wished you both a goodnight, and unknown to you looked at her son, quietly asking if he’s got you. He nods, and turns your body slowly to get into the bedroom.
Sure enough, Rigney has taken over your side of the bed. His head is resting on your pillow as if he’s using it, and for a smaller dog he manages to take up a lot of room.
Will walks you to his side of the bed instead, pulling back the covers and helping you get tucked in. Will slips in next to you, keeping you in the middle while he was dangerously close to the edge. But he pulls you flush against him, your back on his chest, your legs finding comfort tucked under his.
You don’t speak, you just close your eyes, listening to the soft words from your boyfriend. Little “sleep baby” or “you’re safe” or kisses on the top of your head.
To no surprise of Will, it didn’t take long for you to completely pass out, but Will stayed up for a little longer. Almost afraid that you’d manage to slip out again without him knowing. The thought of you getting outside in the dark, alone, with no shoes on, and near an open body of water was enough to scare him senseless. But he reminds himself too, that you’re right here.
He finally drifts off with the image of you sleeping in his chest burned into his brain, not that he’d ever want to forget it anyway.
—
As morning came, Colleen makes her way up the stairs to knock on the door. She didn’t tell anyone else what happened last night, not knowing if you’d be embarrassed or not. As she’s faced with the door it’s cracked slightly, Will must have left it open last night only a sliver in case Rigney needed something.
She opens it a tiny bit more, just enough to poke her head in to wake you guys for breakfast. But she stops, and nothing comes out of her mouth as she takes in the sight before her.
The three of you are curled into each other. Rigney spread out but pressed against your chest, and Will pressed up against your back. The three of you completely sound asleep. The dog and Will guarding each side of you like neither of them wanted you to slip away.
Colleen doesn’t move for a better part of a minute. And after she witnesses yet again how much her son adores you, she only smiles, watching as Will shifts slightly but just to pull you in deeper, the action making you pull Rigney in as well. She closes the door just a bit before she lets out a soft laugh, and a warmth different than the sun washes over the house.
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Prompt: Connor picks you up from the bar after a night out with your best friends
“One more, Y/N?” Your best friend asks, as she finishes off the rest of her drink.
It was a Friday night, and after what felt like the longest week of your life, you were so glad to be out with your best friend. When you moved to Chicago she was the only thing holding you back. Not that she told you not to go, in fact she said if you didn’t move she’d kill you. You went from seeing her almost everyday, to seeing her a few times a year.
Connor knew you were having a tough week, knew you were overworking yourself and brushing your exhaustion off. He saw it when you’d leave before his morning skates, and you wouldn’t return until after the sun had set. He knew if he couldn’t break you out of your slump, there was only one person who could.
Now, your best friend also knew you were off. Your texts were scarce and short, so when Connor called asking if she’d be available to come to Chicago for the weekend, your best friend jumped on the opportunity.
“Yeah, why not!” You exclaim to her as she took your empty glass and made her way to the bar to order another round.
You had a half day today, which at your job was almost unheard of. And you nearly cried when you opened your shared apartment door to see not only your boyfriend, but your best friend waiting for you. Connor insisted that you guys go out tonight, saying he’ll be a call away if you need anything. He checked in every few hours, and you made sure to respond back that everything was great.
“Texting your husband again?” Your best friend jokes as she sets a new and very full glass in front of you.
“He’s not my husband.” You chide, clicking your glasses together in a cheers.
“Not yet anyway!” She exclaims, before you both fall into a million different tangents about things happening in your lives.
She told you about this new guy she has been seeing, you told her about life with Connor. She bought drinks when she lost the card game you both insisted on playing every time you went out, and you bought drinks when you lost.
A wince covers your face as you look at the time. You’ve been out with her for more than 7 hours.
“We should probably be getting home soon.” You slur but only slightly. Looking to your phone so we can see the time.
“Yeah.” She hiccups. “Especially if we’re all supposed to be together tomorrow night too.”
Tomorrow night the three of you were going to do some movie marathoning. You and her already went to the grocery store and stocked the fridge up, and you were all set with everything you were going to cook and prepare.
“Yeahhhh.” You say, moving your head back and closing your eyes, now this proved to be a huge mistake. Because as soon as you opened them back up the world seemed to be a bit tilted, and … spinning?
“I’m going to call Con.” You say, blinking slowly in search of your contacts. “Are you sure we can’t drive you?” You ask, looking as she was already ordering an Uber back to the hotel.
“Nope, nope. I’m all set.” She assures, before attempting, but failing to flag down the bartender.
Connor picked up on the first ring, because of course he did.
“Hey angel.” He spoke, his voice music to your ears.
“Hey you. Think I can cash in on my ride?” You ask, the hiccups now hitting you really bad.
You can hear Connor’s laugh, before a quick “of course, send me your location.”
“Can I- can I just tell you the name?” You question, although you know how to send your location, in your current state that might take some time. He agrees, and you tell him the name of the bar.
“I’m ten minutes away.”
“Good, Y/B/N’s uber is going to be here in like… like.. 15?” You question yourself before promptly agreeing with yourself. “Yeah, yeah. 15 minutes.”
“Sounds good angel, I’ll be there soon, okay? Do you have your coat with you? I can bring one with me for the ride.” He asks, and you can hear him shuffling in the background.
“I have one, thank you for checking though.” You say softly, wanting to cry over how much he cares for you.
As you hang up, your best friend places a shot and a water in front of you.
“One last one, and then we are chugging waters.” She says, pushing both liquids towards you.
“Down the hatch!”
—
Connor, true to his word, was exactly ten minutes away. He parked the car on the side of the street as he made his way into the bar. It took almost no time for him to spot the two of you. You both sitting on stools, gripping each other and laughing. He pauses, taking the sight in for a second. Your cheeks were flushed, and even from far away he could see the gloss of your eyes. You were, without a doubt, drunk drunk.
“Con!” You say once he comes into your view, and without hesitation you fling yourself from the high top chair and into his body. Luckily he has fast reflexes, and his arms wrap around you, catching you.
“Hi.” He whispers into your hair, setting you back down on the ground. He takes you in now that you are next to him. Your drunken state obvious, but the most obvious thing was the swaying. He’s sure you didn’t realize you were doing it, and he stepped into your side as your best friend grabs the bill.
“Here, let me.” You say to her, grabbing at your purse to try and pay.
Connor smiled watching you both bicker back and forth on who should pay. And as the bartender comes back around Connor slipped his card past you both to pay. With how drunk you both were neither of you noticed until he came back with the receipt for Connor to sign.
“Did you just-“ you start to ask.
“Yes.” Connor says, signing it and putting it back on the bar.
“When did he?” She starts, looking at you.
But you just shrug your shoulders, before thanking him.
“I was going to get it. You just paid for something you didn’t even do!” You exclaim, feeling guilty because you knew that tab wasn’t cheap.
“Did you have fun?” He asks.
“Well of course-“ you say.
“Then it is worth it. I think I can afford to spoil you guys.” He jokes.
Your best friend breaks out laughing, and you just look at him like he hung the stars. Before you could say your thanks yet again, and Uber notification popped up on your best friend’s phone.
With jackets now put on, and reassuring him you both could walk on your own, you make your way to the entrance.
“You better marry him.” Your best friend attempts to whisper, but she ends up yelling it without realizing. As Connor trailed behind you both, ready to grab you if you took another stumble, he tried to act like he didn’t hear her comment. But he needed to physically restrain himself as you responded,
“I really want to.”
—
With your best friend in her Uber safely on her way back to the hotel, you turn your gaze to Connor. The cold air feeling great on your flushed skin.
“Think you can make it on your own?” He asks, smirking as he clocks how much you stumble in your heels.
“Oh yeah. I’m a pro, watch this.” You say, holding your head high as you start your descent towards his car. Only, you made it about a foot before the world began spinning again.
“Alright superwoman, come here.” He says, sweeping you into his arms and walking towards the car.
“Thank you.” You say, tucking your head into his shoulder.
“Whatever for, angel?”
“All of it.” You say. “For knowing me so well you could tell my week was shit. For bringing her out. For paying. For picking me up. For loving me.” You whisper that last part. Feeling a little more vulnerable than usual.
“Loving you is my favorite thing, you never have to thank me for that.”
“Oh my god you’re such a sap!” You say as he opens the passenger door and places you in the seat.
“Only for you.” He says, buckling you in and planting a kiss to your lips.
Prompt: your little brother has always looked up to you. However, when you bring Connor home he refuses to leave the hockey players side
As Connor drives, he takes in the unfamiliar surroundings, the tall trees and the winding roads. He’s met your family before, well your parents he should say. They make their way down to Chicago as much as they can, visiting you and coming to watch him play. He has tried to assure them that he will not be offended if they do not want to come, after all he knows that your parents don’t know much about hockey. But they always shut that down immediately, they want to support him. The warmth of acceptance flooding his heart every time he sees your parents sitting next to you as you wink at him through the glass.
The only member of your family Connor has not met is your little brother. Logan, who is turning five this weekend was a hockey fanatic apparently. Hearing that his older sister was dating a hockey player turned the tides for the boy, and you have filled Connor in with how much Logan looks up to him.
Connor isn’t nervous per se, he’s met hundreds of kids who look up to him and the other players on the Blackhawks, but this was Logan. This is your little brother that you, at every turn, drop everything you’re doing for him. And even though your parents had begged Connor not to give Logan anything else, because apparently all the kid wears is Blackhawks gear, he smiles as he squeezes your hand. The kid sized jersey covered in signatures is folded neatly in his suitcase, and he cannot wait to give it to him.
—
Your eyes widen as Connor turns the car into the driveway of your family’s up north cottage. Growing up in the Midwest made you accustomed to the lakes, the trees, the open skies. But time living in Chicago started to make the up north scene more meaningful. You love your apartment, love your city, but sometimes when it gets too loud you miss the cottage. You miss your parents, and you miss Logan. The thought of seeing your little brother fills you with so much joy.
“You ready?” You ask him, smiling. He nods, and gets out of the car grabbing your bags.
“SISSY!” The little voice carries in the wide open area, snapping your attention away from your boyfriend to the little form barreling towards you. You drop to your knees and catch him as he flies into your open arms.
“Hi bug.” You say squeezing him as he laughs. You hear your parents walking out, your mom welcoming Connor into a bone crushing hug, and your dad holding his hand out for Connor to shake.
“Sissy, sissy.” Logan says, whispering to you.
“Yes?” You ask, your eyes catching your little brothers wide gaze.
“Is it… is that him?” He asks, almost like he can’t believe Connor Bedard is standing in front of him.
“Yea, bug.” You say, calling him the nickname you gave him the first time you saw him. “That’s him. You want to say hi?” You ask, noticing the shyness starting to wash over him.
Logan nods, and as you stand up he grips the back of your leg. He hides as you walk over to Connor and your parents, who are already deep into some conversation. The scene makes you happy, watching as Connor without question is a part of your family. As you walk to them, your parents beam at the nervousness of their son, who is peaking at Connor from behind your legs. Connor beams as well, trying not to chuckle as he watches the young boy peer at him with wide eyes.
“Logan, this is-“ You start to introduce him to your younger brother until you were interrupted.
“Connor Bedard.” He says, looking at Connor like he was heaven on Earth.
Connor chuckles lightly, kneeling down to your brother’s level.
“I heard you’re the Blackhawks biggest fan.”
“Try your biggest fan.” Your mother cuts in talking to Connor, smiling at her son as she opens her arms for you.
“I have something for you, well actually it’s for our biggest fan.”
“That’s me! That’s me!” Logan says excitedly as Connor goes for his bag and grabs the small jersey.
“Connor what did I tell you!” Your mother says, jokingly rolling her eyes as Logan’s jaw drops as he takes in the team signed jersey.
“Here you go, now you have to promise me that when you come to our next game, you will be wearing that.” Connor says, and as if it was possible Logan’s eyes open even more.
“I’M GOING TO A GAME?” Logan yells, looking at your parents, who nod.
You laugh at his excitement, and Connor lands ass down on the pavement as your little brother throws himself into Connor’s arms. All nervousness from him gone, and you watch Logan as he grips your boyfriend. Connor’s eyes travel to you, and he winks, it’s then that you realize you may have been replaced as your brother’s favorite person.
—
You were correct, you have been replaced as Logan’s favorite person. Of course not that you could really be mad about it, because Connor is also your favorite person. Watching how he is with our brother makes you unbelievably happy, and Logan is attached to Connor at the hip during everything.
As your parents prepare the boat to go around the lake, you and Connor make your way to the guest room.
“He’s in love.” You say, sitting down on the quilt and running your hands over the rough edges of the patches.
“I think I might be too.” Connor says, sitting down next to you before pulling you to lay down on the bed.
“Thank you.” You say, though you’re not very sure what it is you’re thanking him for.
He kisses you, before voices yell up the stairs to get changed and meet your family out on the boat.
You smirk, pulling away and the both of you unzipping suitcases to pull out swimsuits.
“I thought this was supposed to be a family friendly weekend.” Connor says, watching as you tie the top of your bikini on.
“It is.” You say, turning around and taking him in with as much ferocity that he is you.
“You look good baby. Like, really fucking good.” He says, walking over to you, his shirtless torso touching your back.
“Get it all out now, because as soon as Logan sees you, you wont be able to get me alone until after he goes to bed.”
He moves your hair to one side of your neck, leaving small kisses from your collarbone to your favorite spot behind your ear. Warm hands float over your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“Let’s go before I can’t handle not jumping your bones.” You say, forcing yourself to pull away. And look away, fuck, you think as you take him in. His muscles flexing under your gaze, the veins in his arm pulsing, body shifting as your eyes rake down his happy trail.
“SISSY!”
The voice breaking both of you out of your trance, and Connor smiles as he grabs your hand and leads you down to your parents boat.
As your Mom and you sit down across from Connor and Logan, you both catch each other up on your lives. You tell your Mom about your job, your life after moving into Connor’s apartment And she tells you about her job, about your grandparents, and about how well Logan did in school.
“I don’t know if you’ll manage to get your boyfriend back this weekend.” Your Mom states as Logan continually talks Connor’s ear off. But you watch the pair, Connor listening intently to everything the younger boy says. He doesn’t seem put off, or upset. He seems relaxed, and happy to have somebody to talk hockey with.
“It’s a funny thing to see.” You whisper, your Mom giving you a questioning look, waiting for you to continue. “The two most important people in your life being like this, being this close already.” And you feel a little choked up as your Mom grabs your hand.
“I couldn’t ask for somebody better for you, for both of you.” She says, motioning to Logan as well.
You smile as Connor’s gaze catches yours for a moment.
I love you. Connor mouths at you as the boat pulls away from the dock.
I love you too. You mouth back.
—
By the time the sun is setting, Connor starts a fire in the fire pit. He helps Logan put a marshmallow on the end of his spit, and instructs Logan on how to get it golden brown. But as time ticks on, and the younger boy’s eyes droop more and more, he leans himself into Connor. Listening to one of Connor’s hockey stories that Logan had begged him to tell.
“He’s asleep.” You say quietly to your boyfriend, who peaks down to the boy as his eyes are shut, head leaning into Connor’s chest.
“Stay like that, stay like that.” Your mom says, pulling her phone out to get a picture.
“Mom.” You chide, rolling your eyes with a chuckle as she takes a million pictures.
“I’ll take him up,” You say, standing up and shrugging the blanket off your legs.
“No, no.” Connor says, before you can approach them. “Let me.” He says, picking the boy up carefully and making his way into the cottage.
Your parents watch as Connor takes their youngest child in, and then they both look to you. But your eyes are stuck, not moving from his frame as he retreats.
“You’ve done good.” Your dad says, which makes you laugh. Your father is not the kind of person to throw out compliments all willy nilly. He is the nicest man, truly, but he isn’t the type of man to wear his heart on his sleeve. Unlike Connor, who doesn’t hold back when it comes to things like that.
“Seriously, sweetie.” Your mom starts, shifting into your dad a little bit more for warmth. “He’s lovely.”
You smile, unable to say anything because you actually feel choked up from the support and love they are giving Connor.
As he finally comes back out, you notice his baseball cap replaced by a beanie, and one of his hockey sweatshirts in his hand.
“Was he okay?” Your mom asks, and Connor smiles and nods.
“He didn’t even wake up.” Connor says, before offering you the sweatshirt. “Here baby, put this on.”
Your parents smirk, looking away at the display of affection in front of them. You shrug on the sweatshirt, thanking him as he pulls you into his side, blanket now thrown over the both of you.
“What’s on the agenda tomorrow for the birthday boy?” You ask your parents, the fire cracking and popping.
“Whatever he wants to do really.” Your mom says, smiling as she talks about your brother.
“So that means whatever Connor is doing.” Your dad jokes, sending the four of you into laughter.
“I can’t wait to see him at a game.” You say, thinking about how excited he’ll be.
“Yeah, just wait until I bring him back to the team after the game.” Connor says, and your parents groan.
“He wants to play hockey now.” Your mom says, filling you in on his life.
“That doesn’t surprise me.” You say.
“His class had a ‘what do you want to be when you grow up’ day. And guess what he said.” She says, her eyes sliding in between the two of you.
“A hockey player?” Connor questions.
She shakes her head no, before saying the words that sweep you off your feet. “He stood in front of his class and said he wants to be Connor Bedard when he grows up.”
Your eyes grow watery, emotion taking over you. You look to Connor, whose eyes look equally watery.
“I-“ Connor starts, but stops. Your hand finding his under the blanket. “I don’t even know what to say.”
Your parents laugh staying out talking with you both a bit longer before heading off to bed, leaving the two of you outside.
“I know a lot of kids look up to me, but it’s different knowing it’s him.”
“How so?” You question, eyes staring into the fire crackling in front of you.
“Because he’s your brother, he’s your family. I don’t want to let him down.”
“You never could.” You reassure. “He’s in love with you.” You say, smiling thinking about all the moments they shared today.
“I love him too.” Connor says, his voice soft, vulnerable. You both fall into a comfortable silence, and you lay down on the bench, your head resting in Connor’s lap. And before you know it you, like your younger brother, fall asleep against the hockey player.
Connor senses it, he can tell the moment you drift off. The fire was all but gone now, and he picks you up, blanket and all to carry you to the guest room.
As he enters the house with you being carried in his arms, he stops as your Mom is standing by the sink, glass of water in her hand. She takes in the view in front of her, and Connor smiles almost sheepishly. While he doesn’t care about giving you affection or calling you by pet names in front of them, carrying you to bed might have been a little strange for the woman to see.
But she only smiles at him as she says, “you promise me you’ll take good care of them?”
“I promise.” Connor says without hesitation, causing her to nod and say two words that change Connor forever.
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