#like!! he left his daughter at home with the promise to be back soon - he thought he'd just be goin into work like normal

[sandwitchstories]

5 More Minutes

I had this image in my head of Mouse in Sukuna's haori. And then this little drabble happened.

For more adventures with Mouse, check out my Dad!Sukuna Series on my AO3 - Here! )

Author's Note: For anyone new to my Dad!Sukuna Series, Mouse is Sukuna's, currently, 2 year old daughter with reader.

Summary: Sukuna's favorite haori has disappeared. It can't just grow legs and disappear. Or can it?

WC: 600+

CW: reader is referred to as 'Mama' but not described, toddler dad Sukuna, girl dad!sukuna, true form Sukuna (4 arms), it's pretty much just plain Dilf Sukuna fluff and crack, SFW in every way, just family fluff, father and daughter fluff, writing them together gives me life

Sukuna gave a frustrated huff as he walked around his estate in search of his black haori. He had somewhere to be and he was not happy to have his departure delayed. He still needed to say goodbye to you and the brat. Which was never a short ordeal between your ‘one more kiss’ and Mouse’s ‘now me!’

You had been the first place he checked. You had a tendency to steal his clothing no matter how big it was on you. You had a litany of excuses for this behavior. However, today you were not the culprit.

He headed into your shared room to see if maybe he had left it in there, though he could swear he had grabbed it that morning. It wasn’t like the damn thing could grow legs… or could it? 

He went straight to your bed, looking down with his hands on his hips. It had indeed grown legs.

Two tiny legs attached to one very troublesome little girl. 

Mouse laid curled up in your bed, sound asleep, wrapped in his haori. Tsk. While it was indeed cute, it was also very annoying. Sukuna leaned forward and pulled at the material, trying to tug it out from under Mouse. She growled and rolled so it was tighter around her. He used a hand to gently start to roll her and try to retrieve his item. 

She cracked her eyes open and gave him your look of instant death. “What doing, Papa?”

“I am taking back my haori, Mouse. I have somewhere to be,” he said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his tone.

She regarded him for a moment before turning her head and closing her eyes again. “5 more minutes, Papa. Please and thank you.”

“No more minutes, Mouse,” he said firmly, starting to pull on the material again.

“Don’t do it, Papa,” she said in a sleepy but grumpy tone.

“Or what?” he challenged her.

“I bite you, Papa.”

He guffawed at her. “You’ll bite me?”

“Yes, Papa.”

Her audacity knew no bounds. “Well, if you bite me I’ll bite you back. And I bite harder and have sharper teeth. Now, give me my haori.”

“But I comfortable, Papa…” she whined, rolling onto her back to rub her eyes and look up at him. “Why need it, Papa?”

“I already told you, I have somewhere I need to go,” he said, picking her up with one arm and taking his haori back with the other, ignoring her protests. “You can have it back when I get home.”

“But, Papa… I don’t want you to go,” her lip started to tremble.

“Well, tough shit, little one,” he said, laying her back down on the bed. He pulled the blanket up around her and rubbed her back. “Go back to sleep, Mouse. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Papa?”

“Yes, Mouse?”

“You bring back something tasty for Papa and Mouse?” she asked, eyes already fluttering closed.

He grinned. “I promise.”

“And I get it back when you get home?” she asked, reaching out her hand to sleepily play with the edge of the haori laying on the bed. 

“Yes, Mouse, you can have it back when I get home if that will please you,” he chuckled. “Now, I need to go.”

“Okay, Papa,” she said, a pout on her face making her chubby cheeks even more prominent. 

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead before pulling back to leave. She caught his face between her hands and cracked open one eye. “One more kiss.” 

He gave her one more kiss and started to stand. He grunted as you managed to startle him as you wrapped your arms around him from behind. He glanced over his shoulder at you with an arched eyebrow.

You grinned up at him and said, “Now me!”

He was never getting out of there, was he? 

________________________________________

Author's Note: Sukuna was only that nice about his haori because she was asleep. One time, you and Mouse rolled up like a burrito in it. He grabbed on to the edge and gave it a yank, a huge smile on his face as he watched the two of you go flying across the bed. It's his brand of cuteness aggression.

[paradoxgavel]

thinks about mr. fnaf cassie's dad for too long and gets really sad about him

[entitled-fangirl]

Lost.

Cregan Stark x Pregnant!reader

Summary: the reader accompanies her brother and Cregan to the Wall to discuss an alliance. But the news of Luke's death causes turmoil among them.

Warnings: Blood, cursing, grief, death, miscarriage, Cregan fucking crying

A/n: based on this ask!

Masterlist

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She had to practically beg him.

"No. No, and you need to drop it," he said as he began to lace up his boots.

She whined and pulled herself from the bed, her hair a mess and still only in her shift, "Cregan."

Cregan let out a soft growl, "You dragons just don't see reason, do you?"

She smiled and neared him. Her hands rested over his, keeping him from lacing his boots. "I want time with my brother again. Is that so terrible?"

"It's a two week trip to the Wall."

"That's at least a month with him." She gripped his hands tighter, "Please, Cregan."

He sighed, "The prince will have plenty of time with you before and after. I won't have my wife and unborn child far from the maesters." He let out a forced laugh, "Or near the men of the Wall, for another matter."

"There are maesters there, Cregan. And we all know I am safest with you."

He stared at their connected hands for a while, a million thoughts ringing loudly in his head, but all unvoiced. 

"We still have a few months until the birth," she continued to reason. "And you know I grow cold at night when you're gone."

Cregan smiled up at her. He pulled his hand from hers to rest over her small swollen stomach. 

As much as he wanted to lock her away from the threats of the world, he knew doing so would hurt her more than letting her go.

He chewed at his lip. "If I let you," he began, "You will take no chances. On anything."

"None," She agreed. "Nothing at all." Her hand joined his on her stomach. "I'll stay by your side. I promise."

"Alright." 

…

"Ready to go?" Jace smiled as his sister neared. 

She grinned back as she took his arm, "I've been ready since I heard you were arriving, brother."

He chuckled lightly as the two began to walk to the stable, "Must I say, you practically glow like the sun nowadays."

She huffed, "Do not lie."

"I don't," he said. "There is more color to you."

"That is only the cold nipping at me and coloring my cheeks."

He laughed again, "Maybe so. But either way, You are a natural, my dear sister. A healthy boy is on the way, I know it."

"A boy?" She asked with raised brows. "Oh no, Cregan and I think it's a girl."

He hummed in thought, "No. It's not. I know these things."

She laughed and playfully hit his arm, "You know nothing of this!"

He grinned and shrugged, "All the same. You'd raise a wonderful boy-"

"-Or girl."

"-or girl. Either way, I shall be a very proud uncle."

"Oh, you must wed Baela soon brother, please."

"So eager?" He asked with a smile.

"Our children would be such wonderful friends." Her eyes lit up and she squeezed his arm, "Or such a beautiful betrothal! Think of it!"

Jace look away in thought, "Perhaps so. I hadn't considered that."

"Only," she began again. "I shall pray your boy does not inherit your unruly curls!" 

"Ah, you're the one having a boy first. I said so."

"Oh. So, you wish to have a girl, brother?"

He bit his lip, "If the gods wish it, then yes."

"You'd be wonderful to a daughter, Jace."

His brows furrowed, "Let us focus on the baby at hand, please. And get you to the stables before Cregan has my head."

…

Cregan helped her into the lift at the bottom of the wall, pulling her to him to make room for Jace. 

"I sent a letter to mother before we left," Jace began. "About the child. Luke, Joffrey, and I will choose a dragon egg and send it to you upon my return home."

Her eyes lit up, "Thank you. That was… That was very thoughtful."

Jace looked up to Cregan, who looked at Jace as if he was going to explode any second. 

A dragon? In Winterfell? Around his child? 

But he said nothing. 

"Do have Luke pick it." She finally said. "He has the best taste in such things."

Jace laughed lightly, "I will. But I will not tell him you said so. I can't have him getting prideful."

A silence fell over them as the lift brought them further and further up the wall.

"So, what is this that falls from the sky and shivers my bones?" Jace asked.

"This is only a late summer snow, my prince." Cregan finally spoke, "In winter, it will cover all you see."

"It's quite beautiful, Jace." She smiled, "If you have a warm cloak, that is."

…

Cregan and Jace walked together along the ice halls of the Wall, the Lady Stark behind, making her rounds around the men at work, thanking them, and chatting as she moved. 

"Starks do not forget their oaths, my prince." Cregan began, "But you must know that my gaze is forever torn between north and south. In winter, my duty to the Wall is even more dire than the one I owe to king's landing. I need my men here." 

He looked behind him to his wife, who was in an intense conversation meters back, a hand resting on her stomach as she nodded along with the man that spoke.

"While your men guard against wildings and weather, the Hightowers plan to usurp the throne." 

The two began to walk up to the outlook, Jace continued, "If my mother is to defend her claim to hold the realm united, she needs an army. War is coming to the whole of the realm, my lord." He looked out over the wall. "We cannot wage it without the support of the North."

Silence filled the air, save for the sound of the wind blowing loudly. 

"Do you think my ancestors built a 700-foot wall of ice to keep out snow and savages?"

"What does it keep out."

"Death."

A man approached the two, "My lord, a raven's arrived. Urgent news from Dragonstone."

Y/n's head perked up, and she immediately excused herself from her conversation to go to her husband.

Cregan unraveled the note, his eyes flitting across the paper hurriedly, and a furrowing in his brows formed.

She moved to Jace and his arm wrapped around her side, pulling her to him. "Cregan," she said. "Is everything alright?"

He looked up at the two Velaryons.

Then held the paper out to Jace.

Cregan then reached out and took his wife from the man, having a new sense of needing her near him.

When Jace read the note and his hand covered his mouth, she became worried, "Jace?"

He didn't answer, but Cregan's grip on her tightened and one hand rested protectively over her swollen belly.

"Jace. Please."

"It's alright," Cregan whispered into her ear, "We're alright." He looked up to Jace, a silent plea to keep calm in front of her.

Jace's jaw clenched, but he forced himself to smile with gritted teeth, "Just a slight hiccup, dear sister."

He gripped the note with an iron grip, not caring of the tears or crinkles it could bring.

He shook his head and began to storm off.

"Jace…" "-It's fine!" He shouted. "Everything is just fine."

He stormed off before she could get it out of him.

She turned around in Cregan's grip, "My love. Please tell me what has happened."

He shook his head and brushed a piece of hair from her face, "No. You needn't worry about these things. It's bad for the babe."

"Cregan-"

“Please do not ask me to bring you torment, my girl,” Cregan said with a tilt of his head.

“Cregan, you torment me by keeping me in the shadows.”

“Trust me when I say, I am not.”

She pulled herself from his hands, “No. You do. Now, tell me.”

Cregan’s jaw tightened and his voice became stronger, “I won’t.”

“Speak the words, Cregan.”

He stared back.

“Say it.”

Silence.

Her voice grew desperate, “Say it.”

He simply stared, a slight tilt to his head.

“If you love me as your wife, you’ll not keep this from me.”

He immediately took a step and his voice lowered, “Do not use such words-“

She growled, “then fucking say it.”

He took steps to her, their faces not far, “You won’t hear it from me.”

“Then I will find it elsewhere," she sneered in his face.

She stormed off, Cregan left to stare over the wall.

He wanted to chase after her. Stop her and correct it all. But he just couldn’t.

This news changed everything.

…

She opened the door, finding Jace in the midst of a fit of rage, throwing his cup against the wall.

“Jace?”

He looked up at her, forcing himself to calm. She moved to him and held her arms out.

And he collapsed against her, weeping into her neck.

“Jace. Jace, it’s alright.” She cooed lightly to him.

“He’s gone. He’s gone and I wasn’t there.”

Gone? Who? 

Her mind began to race and her heart dropped.

Surely not Daemon. Jace wouldn’t weep as if his world crumbled.

Gods, Jace hadn’t wept at all since the day Ser Harwin died.

“Jace. Look at me.”

She pulled his face to look at him, “What happened?”

“I promise you, I’ll kill them all. I will.”

“Calm yourself, dear brother.”

“CALM MYSELF?” He roared and pulled back from her. “Our brother is dead and you tell me to calm myself?”

Hot tears sprang to her eyes and she sniffled lightly. 

A hand shot to her stomach.

“Luke?”

Jace brows immediately relaxed, “gods, you didn’t… Stark didn’t…”

“Luke is dead?” She whispered as a shaky hand covered her mouth.

“I didn’t mean to… please, come here.”

The two siblings embraced, Jace holding her tightly against him and brushing through her hair as she began to wail against him.

Her hands clutched at his cloak and it quickly became wet with her tears.

Cregan threw the door open and his entire body stiffened at the sight.

She turned her head against Jace’s chest. She spoke through broken hiccups, “Luke…”

Cregan’s eyes softened as he saw her puffy eyes, “I know.”

Jace tightened his hold, “Aemond hunted him down on his dragon.”

Cregan watched her eyes completely glaze over and her breath quickened.

She let out a low groan.

“Sister? Sister, please.”

She pulled away and a hand quickly moved to her stomach, her brows furrowed.

“Cregan…”

“Fuck…” Cregan immediately moved to her and pulled her into his arms. “My love, please steady yourself.”

A few more tears slipped from her eyes, “It hurts, Cregan.”

No.

No. No. No.

He gripped her biceps in an iron grip, “No. No, you’re alright.”

She shook her head, “No. I’m not.” She gritted her teeth and her eyes closed. “I’m not. Please.”

“My girl.” He cooed, “Let us sit you down.”

She gasped at a sudden feeling.

“Sister…” Jace took a step towards her.

“Please," She begged and held a hand out, stopping him. “I…”

A low and pained groan and her knees buckled.

Cregan caught her with ease, holding her up. “My prince. Bring me that chair.”

Jace moved immediately, pulling a wooden chair across the floor with a loud scrape.

Cregan lowered her into the chair, cringing at the whimper that left his wife’s mouth.

“Perhaps a maester…?” Jace asked.

“No-“

“-Yes,” Cregan nodded. “Yes. Please.”

“Cregan,” she cried. “I can’t. I can’t lose her-“

“-if we do not fetch the maester, then she will be.” Cregan’s eyes were set, as if challenging her to fight him on it.

“Fine. Fine, please.”

Jace quickly left in practically a sprint.

“It’s not your fault, you know.”

She turned to the Stark, “What?”

He looked like he was ready to cry. His bottom lip quivered, “if you do lose her.”

Her eyes saddened and her hand moved to his face, “I can’t.”

“You will, my love.” He forced a deep breath to hold back the tears and let out a breath, “She is gone now, I’m sure of it.”

If she wasn’t in pain enough, that multiplied it.

…

Four hours later, Jace and Cregan sat in the opposite end on the room, watching the maester work endlessly.

But they were silent. Their eyes were both fixed on the blood that stained everything.

She had fallen asleep long ago, from the pain or loss of blood, they weren’t sure.

But it gave their ears a break from her piercing cries that rang through the entirety of the Wall.

When the maester moved to the two men, they stood.

“My lord, my prince,” he began. “The Lady has lost much blood.”

“Will she live?” Cregan immediately asked.

“I…” he bit his lip. “She will, my lord, but…”

“That is all I need. You may go.”

“Lord Stark-“

“GO!” He growled.

The maester bowed his head and quickly left, pulling the door behind him.

Silence filled the room. Both men still stared at the poor woman who slept away the pain.

…

Jace had left not long after, wandering the halls of Castle Black in thought, so it was only Cregan in the room when she woke.

She let out a low groan, and he held her hand in his. "Lovely, how are you feeling?"

Her eyes studied him before a light sob racked through her.

He lightly kissed her knuckles, knowing that was the only comfort he could bring to her at the moment.

"I told you it wasn't your fault."

"But I…" She hiccuped and wiped her face with her free hand, "I pushed for you to tell me. I… I forced you to let me accompany you here."

"You did not do any of that," he reprimanded. "None of it."

Her eyes held a hollowed look to them, "I lost the future of Winterfell."

Her brows furrowed and his hand smoothed the hair from her forehead.

"A boy," she sniffled. "Would've been."

He felt a punch to his gut.

He'd seen battle before, but nothing caused him as much pain as this moment. 

He looked down at their intertwined hands, "It does not mean that all is lost, my girl."

"Then why does it feel like it?"

His eyes watered, and his nose scrunched in frustration. He wanted to curse as his bottom lip trembled for the second time today, "I don't know."

A single tear ran down the Wolf's face.

"But I promise you," He sniffled. Another tear down his face as he let out a soft breath, "You have not lost me."

"I couldn't give you an heir."

"And I do not know how to comfort you through it."

She pushed herself up and he shook his head, "No, you need to rest."

But she managed to sit herself up against the headrest.

Her hand brushed his cheek and he couldn't stop the tears that began to rush down his face.

"Oh, Cregan," she cooed.

His hand brought her other one up to his lips again, kissing her knuckles fervently this time, as if she would disappear if he didn't.

"Hey. Stop," she tilted her head. "Cregan. Stop."

His eyes looked to her through a blurry haze.

"It's not your fault either, you know." She finally said.

He forced a laugh and shook his head. "I fear I'd go mad without you, my girl."

"As I with you."

The two managed to catch their breath in the silence that followed, a promise that things would get better if they only let it.

He leaned forward to her, gently connecting their lips. 

She let out a whine, accepting his kiss eagerly. 

His hand moved to the back of her head, pulling her to him. He hardly cared about the salty taste of the tears on their lips.

He pulled away first.

"I'll promise our graybeards to the queen," Cregan stated as he sat back down.

She huffed, "Don't pity me and feel as if you must defend-"

His grip tightened on her hand, "I will have the head of that boy on a fucking spike." Cregan growled.

"He did not lose our child, I did!" She said with a raised voice.

His jaw clenched as his eyes bore into hers, "Aemond Targaryen lost the war the second he chased your brother with Vhagar. The graybeards will march when the time is right. In exchange for Aemond's head by the time the war is done."

"Cregan-"

"-He is why our son is dead. And the North will remember that."

She looked down to her stomach, rubbing a hand over what used to be there only hours before.

Cregan Stark's gaze became more rigid than the ice around them. 

"Winter is coming for the Greens."

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A/n: Okay, hey, now that you're depressed from this fic, let's talk. I'm making a Cregan Stark tag list! Let me know if you want on it!

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - warning: postpartum depression requested by multiple: mama's family

"Where's my baby?!"

You can practically hear your teeth grinding together as you give your aunt a tight lipped smile. "He's due to get up any minute." She sighs, like it's an inconvenience, your mom hot on her heels.

"Hi honey," she says, glancing around your now pristine flat, "how are things?"

"Oh, fine." It's the same thing you've been saying this whole time. I'm fine. I'm good. Everything is great. "Went to the pediatrician the other day, Ry is perfect and healthy." You omit the rest of your news, the sudden reappearance of Simon, the stable, consistent presence in your life, the man who was supporting you in anyway he could.

Even though you absolutely do not want your mom or your aunt to meet him, let alone know about him-

you still kind of wish he was here.

He told you yesterday, regretfully, that he had meetings on base all day today, and you told him your mom and aunt were coming by, but probably wouldn't stay long. It was good, that he wouldn't be around.

Before he left for the night, he made you promise to call if you needed him. Text him to check in. You did as he asked, but didn't hear much. Not a surprise, since he said he wouldn't have a lot of time to respond, but still wanted updates.

"That's great honey." Her smile is genuine, and you know she means it. She does mean well, mostly. It's not her fault you're bad at asking for help, or that since you left home, you've become stubbornly independent. You even spent a few years "gallivanting across the globe" as your sister liked to say, shirking responsibility after uni.

Your family was used to you being a bit of a ghost.

"- don't you think?" Your aunt's voice brings you back to earth, and you nod robotically, unsure of what you're agreeing to. You're about to apologize for missing the conversation when the baby monitor on the kitchen counter lights up, Orion's fussy 'I just woke up mom, come get me' cry crackling from the speaker.

"That's for me." You joke half heartedly with a smile that doesn't reach your eyes. You know the battle with ensue as soon as you come back into the living room with the baby, and you dread it.

"Hi baby." You bend at the waist, scooping him out of his crib. "You're gettin' too heavy for mama, big boy. Don't know what I'm gonna do when you're older." The thought stops you in your tracks, the acknowledgement that he'll get older, that soon he'll be six months, and then a year, two. He'll learn to crawl, to walk, to speak. It's exciting, and anxiety inducing. What if you mess him up? What if you don't give him a good life? What if you're not a good mom, or he gets sick, or there's an accident, or an attack or-

No. You're not going to do this. You're not going to fall into these obsessive what ifs. It will only make you sick to your stomach.

You get him into a new nappy and clothes before slinking back into the living room, cowed with your head down. His head turns against your chest, seeking, and you know he's starting to realize he's hungry.

But the vultures don't care.

"Bring that boy over here, let me hold him." Your aunt croons, syrupy sick voice conjuring a roar of nausea.

"He's probably hungry." You start to warn them that this won't last long as you lower him into her arms, but you know it will fall on deaf ears. "So-"

"Just get a bottle from the fridge dear, I can feed him no problem." You fight the urge to to snap at her, unreasonable rage swelling inside your heart. No one feeds him except you, and Simon. Bottles are fine when you're asleep and can't nurse, or between feedings, but he doesn't eat as much from them. Of course, you've tried to tell them that, multiple times, but it never seems to stick. Your mom knows, but she never stands up to her older sister.

Like mother like daughter, you guess. You've never been a doormat per se, but you don't have a strongest backbone, and becoming a mom has changed you, a lot. You've become even more soft, more sensitive. It's... a problem.

"How are you feeling, honey?" You know she's asking mostly about your body, your stitches, your physical aches and pains, which were plenty considering what you went through when Ry was born, but your mom's voice is gentle, like she senses you frustration, and you give her a weak smile. It's nice she's expressing interest, but that's usually as far as it goes, unless you count the meals she's brought over that you barely picked it, not having enough energy to even feed yourself, or shower, or the suggestion that you give her the baby all the time so you could 'take a break' even though he screamed the moment he was separated from you. Not helpful. Nobody cared that you had scary thoughts, scary moments, scary days. Nobody offered to be here at night with you, when you were all alone with the baby after dark, terrified, crying in the bathroom with your face buried in a towel so you wouldn't wake him. No one was here when you were afraid you might hurt him, or yourself, and no one seemed to hear you when you shrugged over and over again, your lack of interest in everything explicitly clear.

You sucked at asking for help, so you didn't. And when you did, you never got it right, or got the right answers, so you stopped asking. Everything became fine. Good.

"Fine, good." She opens her mouth to say something, ask some question, probably about Ry, when your blood goes cold.

The sound of your front door opening rings out like a bang, your eyes widening in panic, and you nearly run to the kitchen.

Oh fuck. Oh no, no no no-

You turn in slow motion to see your baby's daddy, the man who has a key now, stepping through the doorway. As soon as you lay eyes on him, you split down the middle. You're horrified, because of what's about to happen with the two hens on the couch and-

your libido roars to life. Simon's not wearing his usual jeans or joggers and black hoodie, but a camouflage military uniform. One that he fills out, broad shoulders and broad chest fitted snug inside the material. You think you're staring. Or drooling. Or both.

His lips quirk up on one side with a secretive, almost seductive smile, and he peeks over your shoulder before turning his attention back to you. "Hey mama."

"H-hey. Uh. Hi." Your hands uselessly flit around, like you're trying to swat some invisible bugs away or something. "My mom is still here. And my aunt," you can't help yourself, you take him in from head to toe one more time, "you look... nice."

"Price makes me wear my BDU for on base meetings." He grunts, slightly exasperated. Who?

"BDU?"

"Battle dress uniform. It's... the approved, standard uniform. I don't wear it... in the field." His lips press together, and your mind wanders, curious questions about 'the field' popping up like fireworks, but you push them away. Now is definitely not the right time. His thumb brushes your cheek, under your eye, and he frowns. "Everything alright?"

You step to the side, motioning to the living room, where your aunt and mother are whispering fiercely. You roll your shoulders, and take a deep breath. "Do you... want to, say hi?" The question is weak, your voice small. His brow furrows. He looks hesitant, and you don't blame him. They're a lot. It's a lot. He glances down at you again, head tilted in consideration. "Or you could just go. If you ran out that door... well I'd only wish I could come with you." You whisper, and he cracks a smile.

"No. 'm not runnin' from any part of you, sweetheart. C'mon. They can't be worse than..." he trails off, odd look in his eyes before it clears, "they can't be worse than a lot of things."

He follows you around the corner of the kitchen, crossing the threshold of the living room with two large strides.

Your mother gasps. Your aunt makes a sound that you can only describe as a goose being strangled, and Orion starts to cry. Perfect.

"Oh, oh shhh, shhhh." Your aunt tries to soothe him, but you know it won't work.

"Mom," you call over the noise, gesturing to the giant man standing next to your coffee table, and you, "Mom! This is Simon." She stares at you, confused, shocked even. You never told her your one night stand's name, just that you couldn't track him down, so she doesn't make the connection.

Still, she gapes at him. Clears her throat with a question.

"Is this... your boyfriend honey?" Your aunt's expression is not much different, and you freeze. Is he? Is that what this is? You half expect Simon to reject the term boyfriend flat out, but instead-

"Something like that." His hand settles between your shoulder blades, and you lean into it, relishing the comfort. Just the presence of him in the flat is enough to soothe you, lessen the tension you feel building in your chest. "Sounds like he's hungry, mama."

"Yeah, I think he's more than ready." You reach for Ry, eager to pick him up, but your aunt shifts her body, shying away, turning her shoulder to you. You're used to this, the keep away, the way they always try to convince you he'll calm down, to let them hold him for too long, to get him a bottle... but Simon is not.

He goes rigid at your side. You can feel the muscle in his arm turn to stone, and his eyes narrow, upper lip curling. Your mother's eyes go wide, but your aunt remains oblivious. "I can feed him, dear. Go get a bottle warmed up and-"

"No." Simon snaps, rough pitch of his voice dipping deeper into the manc accent, and she bristles. This bitch wouldn't be scared of the devil himself.

"Excuse me?" You watch the muscle in his jaw flex with fascination, wondering what he'll do next. You're brought back to when you met, when he stared down the guy who pushed you out of the way at the bar like he was going to murder him, before calling you over to settle next to his thigh. He put his hand on your waist, shielded you from everyone else for the rest of the night.

You were a goner before you ever had a chance to begin.

"Orion wants his mother. You can hand him over without a fuss, or I can throw you out of this flat. Your choice." His words are hard, cold steel, a sharp knife slicing away, exposing vulnerable parts and smashing them to pieces.

Your aunt has the gall to look scandalized, but when you glance at your mother, she has a different expression. It's warm. Approving. She mets your eyes with a small smile as you scoop Orion up, and then she stands.

"We'll get out of your hair, honey." She tugs you into a half hug before looking over. "Nice to meet you Simon." Your aunt is ranting and raving all the way to your front door, but once it's shut...

"Bloody hell." He mutters, and shakes his head. "I won't let anyone push you 'round like that, sweetheart. Family or not. Especially not in your own home, I-"

"Thank you." It's all you can say. "I um, kind of suck at sticking up for myself, sometimes. It means a lot, that you would do that. For me." He steps close, hand covering Orion's belly and chest, even though he's still crying.

"Kitten doesn't have any claws," he murmurs against your ear, and your eyebrows knit together. Uh... what? "Don't worry, you won't need 'em. Not now that you have me." There's something dangerous in his tone, something lethal and profound. It’s as fervid as his proclamation about his commitment to you, to Orion. Like dark water, bottomless and black, it draws you out deeper, sends shivers up your spine, but doesn't turn you away. It makes you curious, intrigued, desperate to peel back his layers, to dig into him until you know it all, inside and out.

Curiosity killed the cat, isn’t that what they say?

You weren't afraid of him that night, and you're not afraid now. You know Simon is not an ordinary man. You know you've bitten off a lot, by having his baby, rekindling this connection, giving him a key-

but you plan to chew.

[ozzgin]

Omg i love your Yandere serial killer with a split persona so much 😭😭, can you do more headcanon about him?? Like does he aware of his other persona seeing reader kinda scared to talk to him normally thank u

Yandere! Serial Killer Scenarios

Featuring the kind, quiet man who has no idea why you look at him with terror in your eyes. This time with an official character design!

Content: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror, dubious/non-consent

[Main Story] | [More original works]

You only attempted to escape once.

His frequent warnings had begun to wear off, and your mind dared to wander towards hope. One day, during his evening walk, you ran to your bedroom and pulled out a train ticket you'd hidden earlier inside a drawer. The small piece of paper weighed heavy in your hand. Come, now, you scolded yourself. It was weeks of careful planning: anticipating his schedule, erasing your tracks, preparing the essentials. You could already smell the worn leather seats, and hear the jarring whistle of departure. Then you'd be far away from this maniac, all but a terrible memory to be locked away.

There was no time for hesitation. You grabbed a small bag and sped towards the station, frequently looking over your shoulder, muttering silent prayers. Once you made it to your compartment, you exhaled in relief. A relief you hadn't felt in months, washing over your body and relaxing your tense muscles. You climbed the stairs, and searched for your seat. Has someone misread their ticket? You found your spot occupied by a stranger.

"What did I tell you about running away?" his deep voice echoed across the empty hall.

The walk back home was silent. You were convinced this was your end. You'd arrive at the house, and he'd cut you into pieces. Your lips curled in a horrified grimace, mind flooded with foreign feelings: your nails plucked apart with pliers, a burning sting after each detachment. The roots of your teeth grinding and screeching within the bone of your jaw, until all that's left is a fleshy, gaping wound. Plop, plop, as each little souvenir falls into the jar.

He slammed the door shut and stared you down. You looked at the floor, but all you could see were the grimy ID cards of all the women who never made it out of this damned house. You were next.

His large hand ruffled your hair, and you glanced up in disbelief.

"This stays between us. Mother better not hear that her soon-to-be daughter in law tried to run away. Especially now that she's warmed up to you. Are we clear?"

You nodded desperately. God, how pathetic of you. But being trapped was better than rotting underground like the rest of them. You just wanted to live.

You can always tell whether it's him, or him. It's the silence. Or lack of, for that matter. He likes the quietness, the muffled ticking of the clock, the busy rattling in the kitchen, your laughs, your chatter. You'll sit together and listen to the rain, or read your books across from each other. There's no need for words, you know you can be at peace.

He likes music. When you hear the record player, you know it's your cue to perform. You exit your room - it's better if he doesn't call you down himself - and descend to the main area. The stairs creak louder, the wallpaper begins to yellow. It's almost as if the house ages with the music, and you tumble back in time.

He's been waiting for you, naturally. How's a man meant to spend his evenings, if not with his adored wife? He'll reach out for your hand, and invite you to a slow dance. Those are the worst moments. The tight, suffocating hold, his deranged stare drilling into your very soul, the whispered promises: that you're forever his, and you'll never find happiness anywhere else. He knows it. It's the same for him, really. Everything he's ever needed lies within your embrace.

Some days, the charade doesn't last long. You simply won't be in the mood to be kissed, to be stripped naked and fondled by his murderous hands. So you'll just pout and gaze ahead. It angers him terribly.

"Wretched whore. Do I look like a beggar?"

He'll shove you aside and make his way out, taking his tools with him. He hates asking for your affection and would rather take his anger out somewhere else. You know he won't hurt you, or force himself on you, which means someone else will have to pay for your disrespect. And yet, it's the only freedom you have around him - the privilege of refusing him and living to see the next day. The rest aren't as lucky. You'd rather not think too deeply about it.

My honey, I know With the dawn that you will be gone But tonight, you belong to me Just to little old me.

What a bizarre thing, to harbor such hatred towards the one you love. You've never met anyone kinder. He's thoughtful, patient, caring. He knows everything about you and lives to serve you. He's your best friend and your lover. He's the one you want to marry one day. But he's also...well...him. And you can't have one without the other.

"No, Mother, it isn't tacky," he barks at the shattered mirror, adjusting your necklace. "And you know what? It's up to (Y/N) to decide if she wants to wear your wedding jewelry."

"It's nice", you respond curtly. You look into the empty reflection and nod. He likes it when you take his side in front of Mother.

"I knew you'd agree. We're a match made in Heaven, aren't we?" he smiles and zips up the old dress. You shiver: wearing a dead woman's gown was not part of your wedding plans. The corset is tightened, and you gasp. His hands are tense.

"I know he proposed to you. And what a stupid grin you had on your face when it happened! You never act like that around me."

He doesn't call me a bitch, for starters, you think to yourself. You shuffle on the bed, trying to loosen up the garment, but he swiftly pins you down onto the mattress.

"Not that it matters. Would you like to know why?" he inquires with a familiar glimmer of jealousy in his dilated pupils. "Because I'll always be your first. You know it, I know it. He never will.

At the end of the day, you belong to me."

To compete with oneself. Nonsense. Utter madness, all of it. The house; the drawer filled with gory trophies; the nightly talks with Mother dearest, whose bones have most likely turned to dust by now; the bloodied scalpels; the embrace of a man who fills you with warmth and terror.

You're part of it now.

[queenpiranhadon]

"Daddy! Why are you sad?"

Satoru chuckles, ruffling his daughter's hair affectionately, scooping her up in his large hands and situating her on his lap.

"Aw...is my pumpkin concerned for Daddy? Don't worry kiddo, Daddy isn't sad- just..." he paused, thinking of the right word. "tired."

Your daughter pouts, cerulean eyes peering up to gaze into her father's. "You should buy a pony Daddy! That way you won't be sad!"

Satoru laughs in surprise. "A pony, huh? Maybe I will...but I don't think Mommy will let us."

"Mommy won't let you do what?" you say, coming up from behind the couch and lean over the back to see the situation, eyebrow raised in suspicion. "Satoru, what propaganda are you teaching our child?"

"Daddy said you wouldn't let us buy a pony!" your daughter chirps and you stare at him incredulously.

"Absolutely not."

"But Mommy!"

"No!"

"C'mon sweetheart-"

"Stop enabling her!"

If he could, Satoru would have that memory tattooed to the inside of his brain, memorizing the way you laughed, your daughter's giddy face, the fuzzy domestic feeling in his heart, everything. If he could, Satoru would do anything in his power to feel that feeling again.

But he couldn't.

Because yet again, Satoru Gojo experiences one of the feelings he thought he left behind, all those years ago.

Grief.

It was during the war, when Satoru comes home late from a battle, only to find you lying on the cold tiled floor, in a pool of your own blood. In your arms, your 6 year old daughter, unconscious with a serious head injury.

A curse had come into your home in the middle on the night, and attacked you while he was gone. And Satoru wasn't there to protect you.

You didn't survive the encounter. You had lost far too much blood for the doctors to nurse you back to health, and your body was damaged beyond repair.

Your daughter was spared however. She was able to be nursed back to health, but her severe head injury gave her severe and permanent amnesia. She had no idea who you or Satoru was.

His own daughter- just…gone.

After that, Satoru just...broke.

He quit his teaching job at Jujutsu High, and left jujutsu society without a trace.

Satoru wasn't a stranger to hiding his true emotions, always masking any negative feelings behind the mask he'd worn for so many years.

But when you died, Satoru had died with you.

The Satoru Gojo of the physical world was nothing more than a hollow body with an empty heart, pain caused it to wither into nothing, as if it was never there.

"Why are you sad Daddy?" He could almost hear her say.

He's tired, he would say, like always.

But never why.

He was tired of watching his daughter grow up from afar, tired of not living a life with you at his side. Tired of waking up in a cold bed, in an empty house, far too big and lonely for him to live in by himself. Tired of being alone at night, consumed by nightmares and the suffocating feeling of grief and depression that overwhelmed him so much it hurt to breathe. Tired of not waking up to your kisses, your love, tired of not waking up to you, falling asleep with you, tired of not being with you.

How could he live without you? You the love of his life, his sweetheart, his everything. How could he live without you by his side, without the life you had made together? How could he watch his daughter grow up without you there to grow old with by his side?

The truth is- he couldn’t.

And Satoru knew that.

Soon, he promised himself. Soon, he'd be able to reunite with you again.

"You told me to buy a pony but all I wanted was you..." - Hidden in the Sand, Tally Hall.

A/N: This got really dark hahah...based on an idea I had last night

[luveline]

𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

you get upset when eddie's friends think you're clingy. he sets you straight with some unbridled affection. requested here. fem!reader, 2.6k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The diner is bustling with life and smells alike, people in their summer jackets eager to sit down and dig into a plate of greasy, fatty meats. You're just as excited, your fingers curled into Eddie's sleeve and following his lead as he weaves through a gaggle of kids playing between the bar and the booths. 

"Sorry, sir," a young girl says to him, springing out of his path. 

"That's okay," he says, leaning back to squint at you curiously, "Do I look like a sir?" he asks you.

Pale faced, dark-haired, the remnants of last night's eyeliner clinging to his bottom lashes, you can't say you'd look at Eddie and think, Sir. Pretty boy extraordinaire with a rather inviting smile, absolutely. 

"I think so, sir," you say. 

Eddie laughs at you, pressing a hand behind your shoulders to move you along. His friend Gareth waves from a booth tucked in a corner under a white sconce. Jamison sits to his left, and Margaret to his right. You feel a little skip in your pulse at the sight —they intimidate you, and you want desperately for them to like you, only you never know what to say. 

"Hey," Eddie says as you approach the booth. He pushes you gently to encourage you into the seat first. "How's it going? Did we order?" 

"We were waiting for you. They said we have to go up to the bar when we're ready."

"We're late, I get it. Where's Jeff?" 

"He went to the bathroom, like, ten minutes ago," Jamison says with a sigh, climbing to his feet. "I'll go see if he's alright." 

"He's fine. Maggie, are you coming to order?" Gareth says, getting up with him. 

"Yes, finally!" she says. 

The relative chaos of your arrival has you hesitating in your seat. Margaret left her purse and her jacket on the table, and Jamison his keys. 

"You okay to stay here while I order?" Eddie asks. 

You'd much prefer Eddie order for you, but you don't want to be sitting here by yourself if Jamison and Jeff come back before him. You won't know what to say. It won't be their fault. You'll make things awkward for everyone. 

You stand up again, shedding your jacket as you do. No one's gonna steal anyone's stuff, the bar is too close. "I'll come with you."

Eddie slots your fingers together easily, grinning, "Lucky me." 

His friends order first and return to the booth soon after. You and Eddie get cut by a cranky looking old lady but neither of you say anything, nowhere to be and no reason to mind. He tells you about the guitar he's been repairing at work and you listen adoringly, in love with the shape of his lips and how he says every word. He's a great storyteller. 

A new friend appears once you've ordered. 

"Hey, Eddie!" one of the waiters says, appearing from the kitchen with a tray of drinks and fries in hand. "Man, I've been trying to get a hold of you all week. The string on my daughter's guitar flew off, nearly blinded her in the process, would you be able to fix that for me? I'll pay you for your time." 

Eddie waves it off. "It'll only take five minutes, you can drop by whenever I'm home. Why do they keep splitting like that, is she messing with the pegs?" 

"She definitely is. Can I get your number? Macey washed my pants without emptying the pockets."

There's a mad scramble for a pen. You have one in your jacket because Eddie's always looking for one, but your jacket is back in the booth. You promise to make a hasty return and set off for it, glad to see Jeff's alright, standing at the table likely waiting for you and Eddie to get back rather than move your things. You like Jeff most out of everyone. With the whole group collected you know he won't drag you into conversation. 

"She's a bit… much," Gareth's saying.

"How can she be a bit much? She doesn't say a lot," Maggie says. 

You frown. You're the only other she. 

"Not like that, just– the touching and stuff. She's always grabbing onto him like a toddler. I don't think I could stand it." 

"You don't have to stand it," Jeff says. "She's Eddie's girl." 

"Clearly." 

"Gareth, when was the last time you got laid?" Maggie asks, flicking a hair tie at him, to his annoyance. "You're being bitter. They fucking love each other, man, it's nice." 

"It is a little tiny bit too much sometimes," Jamison says.

You wince. You know it's a matter of seconds before one of them turns to see you standing there. Is it worse to turn around or to approach? 

You walk up to the table just as Gareth says, "Yes! Thank you man, she's too–" 

He cuts off when he sees you with a cough.

"Who?" you ask, full well knowing it's you. Honestly, you're shy but you still get mad, you kind of want him to own up and say it while you're there, and at the same time you're hoping against hope they'll lie. 

Thankfully, they pretend it was about someone else. 

"Nobody," Maggie says. 

"Some girl at the library," Jamison says. 

You lean past Jeff with as sunny an apology as you can manage to grab the pen from your jacket. "Eddie," you say by way of explanation, holding the pen up with a shrug. 

You walk away quicker than you should. It's obvious you've overheard. There's a thump and a, "Nice fucking job, loser." 

Eddie's deep in conversation as you offer the pen. He takes it without stopping, but he makes sure he kisses your cheek. 

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom, okay?" you say. 

"I'll be right there, sweetheart." 

To get to the bathroom you have to walk past the booth again. With the hurt feeling pounding between your ears and what you suspect might be all eyes on you, you make for one of the two doors. The summer sun and the dry Hawkins heat hits you immediately, a second layering of smothering to wrap around the first. You walk around a rainbow chalk hopscotch and into the shade of the smoking shelter, hands at your collar, breathing hard. 

Don't cry, you think firmly. Don't cry. They'll know if you do and that's twice as embarrassing as walking out. Imagine how embarrassed Eddie will feel if you cause a scene.  

You sit on the little perch in the shelter and stare at the floor. There's nowhere to look that isn't stingingly bright, the sun in the white-blue sky glaring down on you and the sidewalk bleached a blinding ivory. You close your eyes against it. Your shoulders hunch in protectively. Your hands find their way to your face. 

Like a toddler, Gareth said. You press your fingertips into your eyes, fighting against the ache. Is that true? Are you childish in how much you rely on Eddie? You take his hand and his arm, you catch onto his clothes when you're worried, you step behind him when you're overwhelmed. 

"Shit," you whisper. 

The breeze washing over you does little to cool you down. You must sit there for a handful of minutes, worried and nauseous. 

"Hey," Eddie says gently. You flinch despite his best efforts not to startle you. 

He looks tall outlined by the sun. 

"You okay?" he asks. 

"I just wanted some fresh air," you say. 

He raises his brows slightly. "That why Gareth just apologised to me?" 

You wince as he sits down. All of you wants to sag into his side, but a small voice tells you not to. You stay ramrod straight, hands pressed flat and clammy to your knees. 

Eddie gives your elbow a rub. His thumb digs into soft skin and the harder suggestion of cartilage and bone before sliding up. He uses touch often to convey silent reassurement. This seems to say, I don't know what happened, but I'm here. 

"I'm fine. We can go back inside," you say, attempting to fool him. 

"There's no rush." His voice tips to a low, rough register. He's keyed in to your upset, no doubt about it. "It's a nice day, babe." 

He gives you a minute. The small feathering of clouds skirts one edge of the horizon to the other, the shadow of the diner stretching tall as the sun lazes down. You push the worst of your feelings from your mind. It's easy to do with such an unshakeable support at your side, his fingers curling down to your forearm, vying for a hand to hold. 

"I heard your friends talking about me. It wasn't all nice," you confess. 

"Assholes." 

You glance at his face. He has a crease between his brows. 

"Well, mostly Gareth. He said that I… act like a kid. A toddler, that I'm too much, at least for him to stand. And don't get me wrong, Eds, I'm not thrilled that they were talking about me, but I guess I…" You take a short breath and look away from him. "I hate that it's true." 

"You can be mad when people talk shit. I'm mad," he says. "He said you're like a toddler?" He shuffles closer to you on the bench. "Babe, it's not true, okay? You're not too much. Fuck, we're here to hang out and they can't wait ten minutes to run their mouths–" 

"It wasn't like that, it was just Gareth." Gareth's always been the selfish friend. 

"He doesn't get a pass for saying something shitty 'cos he's always shitty. I brought you here," —you peek at him, recognising upset in his tone even when it's the barest inkling— "knowing you didn't really want to come because you get so nervous," —he sounds pained for you— "I fucking told him to leave you alone. I said we wouldn't come around if he didn't stop being a mood killer." 

You worry at your bottom lip. "Maybe that's kind of his point, Eds. You have to look out for me. You had to ask someone to be nice to me 'cos I can't handle it–" 

"You don't have to handle it. The people around you should be nice to you. This isn't high school, you don't have to put up with it, and I told him that." Eddie grabs your arm with the hand that isn't tangled in yours and turns you to face him. "I'm sorry," he says, almost a murmur, "I didn't invite you today to have you humiliated." 

You're feeling a little mortified by the passion of his feelings. He's mad at the wrong person, isn't he? "Why are you sorry? I'm the one who clings to you." 

"I want you to." Eddie holds your eyes, brown and big and imploring you to listen, the starts of his brows sewing together. "I'm sorry because it's not fair. And because Gareth was a dick to you. And for getting mad." He smiles at you ruefully. "I'm being a dick, too." 

"In what world?" 

Eddie leans in slowly, giving you enough time to close your eyes as his nose bumps into yours, encouraging your head up to allow for a kiss. He kisses twice, a third time, pulling away to rub your bottom lip. 

"Are you really upset?" he asks softly. 

You know whatever answer you give him is one he's okay with. 

"I feel so embarrassed," you say. "They knew that I overheard them. Now I feel like I'll be constantly worried about how much I'm touching you." 

"Well, that's their problem. That doesn't say shit about you," Eddie says, wrinkling his nose. 

"I'm really not too much?" you ask. He can likely hear how desperate you are for a kind answer, your throat burning with the effort it takes to stave off tears. 

"You've never been too much. I'm the too-much one. You wouldn't even hold my hand when we first started dating, you remember that? We'd go to the movies and you'd get so flustered when I bought your ticket." Eddie's arms wrap around your waist, the breeze ruffling his sweet curls and sending gusts of his smell your way. You're a goner, dropping your face into his shoulder. "Do you remember that?" he asks again, his face slipping down to yours as he hugs you close. "The first time we went to the Hawk together, I went first, and I don't know why you thought you'd have to buy your own ticket but you got all quiet when I got yours, too. I loved that. You know what I loved even more than that?" 

You smile, knowing he's going to say something lovely. "What?" you ask. 

"I loved how proud you were to sit down with me. You wouldn't hold my hand but you'd put your cheek on my shoulder just like this." 

Eddie rubs the tip of his nose against your temple. "I love how much you want to be near me," he says. "It's not childish, is it? If being closer to me makes you feel better, there's nothing wrong with that. Gareth's just jealous 'cos he isn't getting laid." 

"That's what Maggie said." You laugh. 

"Maggie's a good one. She makes Gareth bearable, kind of." 

You feel the stretch of his back under your hands. Your head is pounding from the sudden rush of big emotions, your tongue dry and throat aching, but you don't have a lick of urgency to get up and go back in. 

"He's such a dick," you whisper. 

Eddie laughs, patting your back. "Such a fucking dick." 

"I can't help being a loser and wanting to hug you so much," you say. You're joking now, but it's true all the same. 

"I tempt the untemptable," he says agreeably.

You laugh and lift up a bit to hug him harder, your face pressing into his neck. 

"You're not a loser," he says more seriously. "You know that, right? What Gareth said, it's not okay, but there's no accounting for idiocy." Eddie sits back on the bench, taking your forearms into his hands for some more soft massaging. "He can think whatever he likes, I'm not the government, but he was wrong, and also it's rude and, again, super shitty of him to do that here. So with your blessing I'm gonna punch him in the face." 

"Nooooo," you murmur. 

"Very soft no. Taking it for a yes."

"Eddie, you can't hit Gareth."

"He should watch his mouth, then." 

You reach up for a second hug. You love that he prioritised how you felt, as well as how eager he is to stick up for you —how mad he is on your behalf. 

"He's trying to take this away from me," Eddie says, leaning back under your weight, arms crossing behind your spine. He looks up at you like you've stolen his breath, lips parted and teeth peeking out with his smile. 

"Do you really want to punch him?" you ask. You sound very fond.

"I hate that he made you feel bad about yourself. And he irritates me." 

"But…" 

Eddie hums like he's thinking for a moment. "No, I definitely still want to hit him." 

You tuck a curl away from his cheek tenderly. "Thanks for wanting to defend my honour, Eds," you say.

"I'm on your side through everything." He looks ridiculously pretty saying such a ridiculously lovely thing. "That's how we work, right? You're on my side too?" 

Your face flushes with heat. "Of course I am, baby." 

"Good. Unrelated to our previous conversation, how much money do you have, roughly? In case I need financial aid in the coming days." He drops his voice to a whisper, "How much even is bail lately?" 

You cup his cheek. "We can't afford it," you whisper back. 

"Typical." 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!♡

[kihyunsflavor]

Cross my heart part 1

next chapter ↪︎

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x f!reader

Summary: When Paul Atreides is killed by Feyd-Rautha, the only hope for the Bene Gesserit plan lies with Feyd. As the eldest daughter of the emperor, your father promises you to the na-Baron to forge an alliance between your two houses. However, this turn of events is not to your liking, and you harbor little fondness for him.

Warnings: arranged marriage, sexual tension (smut in next chapter), mentions of violence and blood, pet names, size kink, enemies to lovers trope (?)

Authors note: English is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes. Also let's imagine Margot Fenring did not visit Feyd on his birthday. 

Horror plays on her face when her lover falls to the ground. Blade buried deep in his chest, where his heart was beating only seconds ago. There is no scream from her, she is quiet as the tears fall. Soon the room is filled with loud gasps and cries. You watch her break down on her knees. Now her lover was dead and the Fremen had lost. 

From the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of your father's face. There's a subtle hint of relief, a fleeting expression that only you can discern. Meanwhile, Feyd-Rautha turns around, a broad grin stretching across his lips. "Is this your Lissan al-Gaib? The Mahdi?" he mocks the Fremen gathered in the hall.

But in that moment, the Emperor and the na-Baron were invisible to them. All attention was focused on the fallen messiah as they swarm around the body. It doesn't take long for the left over armies to come and escort you to safety. Feyd trailed closely behind, a constant amusement playing on his features.

Your father's fury is evident; his clenched fist betrays his agitation. Yet this time, you won and destroyed the upcoming force from Arrakis. You tried to match his steps, but he was eager to leave this planet. You look back once, only to see her again. You didn't. She was hidden by the crowd. Instead, your eyes meet Feyd's. He had been walking closely behind you. "Don't worry, princess." Is all he says. You turn your face away, but he falls into step right by your side.

There is a ship, that will escort you back home. Feyd stayed alongside you and your father until your departure. "For now, I will return to Kaitain. But we will come back and slaughter them all." The emperor declared. Feyd Rautha nodded solemnly. He had dropped to one knee in front of your father. "You will stay here to oversee the spice harvest." There was a long silence. You noticed how your father exchanged meaningful glances with the revered mother Gaius Helen Mohiam. The silent communication left you puzzled, unaware of its significance.

Suddenly, your father rose from his chair. "And I will give you my eldest daughter." 

A cold shudder went down your spine as you heard his words. You stared at his side profile, hoping this was a misunderstanding, but the revered mother came into your sight. You understood why it had been done, you remembered the words from her. Feyd was yet another prospect for the Bene Gesserit. When your eyes fell on the Harkonnen, he smirked up at you. 

"I will not leave with you, will I?" You asked, as the na-Baron had left the room. "You will. He won't claim you until he has proven himself." Your father affirmed. He referrered to the need for the spice harvest to resume successfully.

"He will come to Kaitian when the time is right." 

When you arrived on your homeplanet, the emperor dissappeared immediately. He was busy tending to the Fremen rebellion. The news of Paul Atreides getting killed by Feyd Rautha spread rapidly. The other houses remained firmly aligned with the emperor, since Paul had attempted to disrupt the spice harvest. Now there was no hope, no Lissan al-Gaib, for the Fremen. No one, who would bring them to Paradise as the prophecy had been told. However, Paul had not been the awaited Kwisatz Haderach, the Bene Gesserit had anticipated. Few knew, but the hope now rested upon your future husband.

Over the past few months, reports were sent to your father. They arrived from Arrakis, each carrying Feyd's signature. He described the spice harvest as successfull and on the best way to reach big numbers again.

As your father reviewed the latest missive, his expression grew pensive. "He seems to exceed the expectations. The baron sent a report himself." The emperor said, while leaning over his table. You nodded approvingly, your heart racing at the mention of Feyd's name. "Will he come soon?" Your father frowned at your question, fully lost in his thoughts.

"My daughter, I think I need to send you away." Your eyes widened, but his remained fixed on the scroll. "You will go to Giedi Prime. Solidify our alliance with House Harkonnen, familiarize yourself with the Baron and find out his political plans. The wedding will take place on Kaitain in due time." You listened well, while he explained. "Will Feyd-Rautha also be on Giedi Prime?" The thought of facing the Baron alone on this dark planet made you shudder. It was a nightmare. "Yes."

Before the month´s end, you yourself send a letter to the na-Baron. It was a request form your father, advised by the revered mother. Every word was carefully written by yourself with your name prominently displayed beneath the message. It was not a long letter. You informed him about your upcoming trip to Giedi Prime to meet his uncle, the Baron. And suggesting that he should join you as well. It was not a plead, but like a beckoning call to him. Of course you had to charm him first. In the future he would either listen to you willingly or you would resort to manipulation. Feyd Rautha was known for his ambitious and ruthless character, willing to do whatever it took to achieve his own goals.

Oh how it angered you to travel to this unpleasant planet - but you were hiding your feelings from everyone. It was a duty you had to fulfill. Showcasing the amicable relations between the two houses was important.

The ship was prepared at the start of the next month, laden with various garments, jewelry, shoes, and other essentials. The dresses, in particular, were meticulously crafted for this trip, symbolizing the prestige and authority of House Corrino. A few servants and a Bene Gesserit sister accompanied you.

The journey was short and soon you found yourself descending into the atmosphere of Giedi Prime. Sitting composedly in your chair, you awaited the ship's landing. A scroll was clutched in your hand, an unfamiliar excitement stirred in your stomach. You read the single line repeatedly. "As you wish, my princess." While technically you couldn't hear him say it, in your mind, it was as if he were speaking directly to you.

He was a very intelligent man, with a mind sharp like a knife, yet charming and handsome at the same time. He effortlessly commanded attention wherever he went. Despite this, you wished you could avoid marrying him. While he ignited unfamiliar passions within you, you were certain they were nothing more than fleeting fantasies. There was excitement, but you couldn't shake the feeling that he wouldn't hesitate to cause you harm. Maybe with time, you'd figure him out better.

As the ship landed, there was no time left to dwell on these thoughts. Stepping out onto Giedi Prime, a servant handed you your long coat, its once vibrant color now subdued by the planet's dim light. The Baron awaited your arrival, surrounded by a crowd gathered to greet you. It was to be a grand entrance, fitting for the daughter of the emperor.

With confidence, you made your way to the Baron, your eyes catching Feyd standing beside his uncle. A smirk played on his lips, betraying his excitement to see you. In that moment, you felt a sense of relief that he was here.

"Welcome to Giedi Prime, Princess. It's an honor to have the daughter of the Emperor grace our humble planet with her presence. I trust your journey was pleasant?" The Baron's words brought your attention back to the present, as he bowed before you, followed by his nephews.

"Thank you, Baron. The journey was indeed smooth," you replied politely. As the three men straightened up, Feyd stepped forward and gently kissed the back of your hand. First, you wanted to pull away, but his touch was surprisingly soft, and you allowed him to continue. After all, it was a well-mannered gesture.

"I was waiting for you, my princess," he whispered slyly, his words dripping with charm. There was a palpable tension building between the two of you, and despite yourself, you found him captivating. Your mind wandered back to the Fremen girl you came across on Arrakis, the one who had lost her beloved. In her eyes, there had been an unmistakable depth of love and dedication. You couldn't help but envy her, for she had someone to fight for, someone to live for. You were never going to experience that.

As you were led through the castle, the architecture and decor caught your attention, though not in a favorable way. Everything seemed dark and robust, with a metallic, cold feeling permeating every corner. The building reflected the characteristics of the residents of Giedi Prime, with their porcelain-white features and hairless appearance. You couldn't help but feel relieved that the wedding would take place on Kaitain, away from this grim atmosphere.

A room was shown to you by Feyd Rautha himself. It was an uncomfortable walk. Conflicting emotions churned in your stomach, leaving you uncertain of how to act. There was only one topic you both could talk about. "I heard the spice harvest is going well," you ventured, breaking the awkward silence. Feyd, who had been walking slightly ahead, slowed his pace and turned to look at you. "Yes, my princess. The Fremen haven't been attacking our spice harvesters. They have withdrawn almost entirely." You acknowledged his response with a subtle nod. "That's great."

Suddenly, Feyd stopped, causing you to pause in confusion. The servants trailing behind also halted. "Is it?" Feyd's smirked, as he turned his body to face you directly, now standing pretty close to you. "Well, why wouldn't it be?" you replied, perplexed by his demeanor. "You know what I mean by that, my little princess," he said, his hand reaching up to caress your cheek. You allowed the touch, still unsure of his intentions. Seeing your confusion, he smiled, showing his black teeth. "My dear, you know what your father told me. If the spice harvest was doing well, I could make you mine." He leaned in, now towering over you. "And if I understood correctly, you're looking forward to our union?" It was as if a switch had been flipped in your mind. Your praise for his work could easily be misunderstood as eagerness to marry Feyd.

You took a step backwards to create more distance between you. Feyd let his hand drop to his side, his smile remaining in place. "I see what you mean now. Perhaps it could be interpreted that way, but it wasn't my intention. I was simply acknowledging the work that had been done on Arrakis." You said.

Feyd appeared disappointed by your response, his eyes betraying his displeasure at your lack of reciprocation. But first, he would have to work to earn your attention. While he may have proven himself to your father, it didn't mean you were now at his feet. You would make it especially challenging for him.

He escorted you to your chambers without uttering another word. "Good night, Princess." His tone was cold and desinteressed. You stood in the door frame, contemplating wether to say something, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. "My Lord." You interjected at the last moment. Feyd paused abruptly, turning to face you. "Thank you for heeding my request and returning to Giedi Prime." You offered him a little smile, before closing the door behind you.

It was all just manipulation, to wrap him around your finger and keep him under your influence. He was thrilled to marry you anyways. Though love and affection were foreign to Feyd Rautha, his sexual desire was his weakness.

next chapter ↪︎

[pnghoon]

daddy's in a tutu !!

(🩰) ── 𝓟ARK JONGSEONG [제이] ⁞ ㅤㅤ𝓰. fluff, humor, married auㅤㅤ୨୧ㅤㅤ warnings : est. relationship, not proofread, pet-namesㅤ⟡ㅤ!nonidol hubby !jay 𝔁 wife !reader ᯓ ꒰ wc : 1.3k꒱ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤsynopsis .ᐟ in which you come back home to the sight of your husband in a pretty pink tutu (•̪ o •̪) ── 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ᡣ𐭩

juno's note ─ "unfortunately I can imagine him in a tutu if our daughter asked him too" is so jay coded. you will never not catch me yapping about husband jay..bc why is that man so hubby material. if you enjoyed reading this, please be sure to like & reblog !! ♡

the snow was falling heavily outside, blanketing the world in a soft, white layer. inside your cozy home, you were busy getting ready for a day of much-needed errands.

bustling around the house, you pulled on your warmest winter coat and bundled up, ready to brave the icy roads.

before you left, you turned to your husband, jay, and your four year old daughter, yubin, who was sitting on the couch, hugging her favorite pink stuffed bunny.

you stared at your daughter's crestfallen face as she cuddled up beside jay. It was the inevitable that the four year old would be upset right now. due to the icy roads and heavy snow, today's ballet class was canceled, leaving yubin devastated.

“are you sure you'll be okay?” you asked, fixing the scarf around your neck and grabbing your purse.

jay looked up from the couch, where he was busy trying to cheer up yubin, her eyes still a bit puffy from the earlier tears and her nose resembling rudolph.

“we'll be fine,” he reassured with a smile, “right, princess?”

yubin nodded half-heartedly, a cute pout still present on her face as she clutched her bunny.

“you guys call me if you need anything,” you reminded them, pressing a kiss to jay's cheek and ruffling yubin's hair. “i'll be back soon.”

and with one last look at your two favorite people, you braved the snowy outdoors. the cold air nipped at your cheeks, but the promise of hot cocoa and a warm house kept you going.

you made your way to the car, shaking your head with a smile at how cute they looked together. little did you know, an adventure was unfolding inside.

jay and yubin huddled together in the living room, surrounded by the warmth of the heater and the faint sound of delicate snowflakes hitting the window.

yubin wore her little ballet outfit, a mini bun perched on the crown of her head as she practiced her pirouettes.

jay on the other hand, was trying his best to keep up with her, although his ballet skills were definitely less refined.

“okay binnie, let’s try that spin again,” jay said, puffing slightly. “i think i’ve got it now.”

yubin giggled, her cheeks flushed with excitement as he watched her dad try to catch his breath from just a couple twirls.

“daddy, you’re doing great! but…”

“but what, sweetheart?” jay asked, glancing down at her with a raised brow.

“i think you need a tutu too!”

jay blinked. he hadn't anticipated that request. “a tu..tu? i don’t know if that’s a good idea honey...”

“pleeease, daddy?” yubin begged, giving him her best puppy eyes. “it’ll be so much fun!”

jay stared at his daughter for a moment, his heart swelling in his chest at the sight of her big round eyes staring up at him.

after a moment of thought, jay reluctantly sighed, giving in to her adorable plea. “alright, alright. if it’ll make you happy, i’ll wear a tutu.”

and with that, jay found himself sporting a frilly tutu that barely fit his hips, his face turning an adorable shade of pink to match the tutu. yubin clapped her hands in delight, twirling around in her own tutu.

“we're matching now daddy!” yubin cheered, jumping around in her ballet slippers.

jay laughed, looking down at the slight new change of wardrobe. it was definitely a combo to say the least, never in his life would he expect sweats to look so good with a tutu.

“isn't that right binnie?” he commented, extending his hand for yubin to take. “now, let's get back to those grand jeté's we were working on earlier eh?”

yubin squealed, immediately accepting his requests with the grasp of her tiny fingers and a wide smile plastered on her face.

“yes please!”

as they continued their ballet practice, the living room had turned into a makeshift stage for the two, with yubin and jay performing a whimsical ballet routine, the sweet melodies of the nutcracker adding the perfect touch to their chaotic performance.

“okay, let’s see your best grand jeté!” yubin called out, her tiny arms reaching out dramatically.

jay attempted a grand jeté, but ended up looking more like an enthusiastic baby goose learning to fly, his arms flailing in the air.

yubin giggled uncontrollably, trying to mimic her dad's moves with even more dramatizing flair.

they pranced around the living room for what seemed like hours, their tutus fluttering in sync with every twirl and leap. for jay’s sake, they would take periodic breaks throughout the practice.

during these breaks, yubin would watch in amusement as her dad rested his hands on his waist, desperately trying to regain his composure. let’s just say, it was like watching a wind-up toy wind down.

after what felt like ages, you were finally heading home. sure, the sweet jingle of christmas music and the warm smell of cinnamon from each errand stop were enduring, but what you were really looking forward to was being wrapped up in a warm, cozy blanket with the two people you love most.

as you pulled into the driveway, the house looked picture perfect against the snowy backdrop. you carried your bags inside, balancing them as you nudged the door open with your hip.

“i'm back!” you called out, kicking off your snowy boots and setting the bags down in the kitchen. “i got all the goodies!”

no response. now you were curious.

you walked further into the house slowly, following the sound of familiar classical music you knew all too well. peeking around the corner, you stopped in your tracks, eyes wide and mouth agape.

there, in the middle of the living room was your husband, in a bright pink tutu that barely fit his athletic build. matching his outfit was your daughter, her own tutu flaring out as she twirled around, her giggles a melody of their own. they were completely in the zone, unaware of your presence.

If you were being frank, the scene was too precious to interrupt. jay was trying to execute an arabesque, but his balance was off, making yubin laugh even more.

“come on, daddy! like this!” she demonstrated with the grace only a child could have, and jay tried again, a bit more successfully this time.

you couldn’t hold back your laughter any longer, and jay’s head practically spun at the sound, his face turning even redder from embarrassment.

“oh- hey honey! um, well, yubin wanted to practice ballet–” he explained, his voice trailing off at the end.

“don't stop on my account,” you teased, revealing yourself from behind the wall as you took in the scene before you in all it’s glory.

yubin ran over to you, her eyes shimmering with excitement.

“mommy, look! daddy's my ballet partner!”

you couldn't help but chuckle, kneeling down to hug your daughter. “i can see that," you commented through giggles, your gaze flickering towards your husband for a moment. “and I must say.. he's doing a pretty fantastic job.”

“why thank you.” jay answered. he tried to pull off a graceful bow, but from the energy he had just exerted to his recent performance with his daughter, he stumbled a bit.

you couldn't stop laughing, tears forming in your eyes. “oh, jay, you're a sight.”

jay grinned, walking over to join you and there daughter. “anything for our little princess. plus, i think i’ve found a new appreciation for tutus.”

later that evening, after yubin was tucked into bed, you and jay found yourselves cuddled on the couch, the soft glow of the christmas tree lights casting a warm glow to the room.

“you really made her day today, y'know,” you murmured, resting your head on jay's chest.

“well, that's what dads are for, right?” he replied, his fingers playing with a strand of your hair.

“i think you might have missed your calling as a ballet dancer,” you teased, nudging his side with your elbow.

jay laughed, pulling you closer. “i'll stick to my day job, thanks. but for yubin, i'd wear a tutu any day.”

you smiled, feeling the warmth of his love envelop you. “and that's exactly why you’re so amazing.”

𝓢igning off... @pnghoon

── 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 [OPEN 🗯] @onlyhees @amouriu @greentulip @enhluv1 @samiikeu @hoonwhile @dearrwoni @won4kiss @jakesangel

[kedsandtubesocks]

game changer

MLB pitcher!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: back from your first semester of grad school your parents lovingly drag you out to celebrate with an old family friend - but what unfolds there (and after) cracks you wide open

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, no outbreak/modern AU & Joel has both his daughters, dad’s friend!Joel, unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but is a drinking aged adult & Joel is in his early 50’s), light use of gendered language, yearning & flirting, some light angst, brief alcohol consumption, masturbation (f), smutty thoughts, heavy makeout, spicy themes, allusions to smut (p in v), Joel’s dirty talk, one use of “good girl,” one light ass smack, reserved but soft!Joel, start of secret relationship, lots of baseball talk

word count: 9.1k (I’m sorry)

a/n: i know, i know another non-typical AU for Joel but I blame my sports girlie heart & baseball season so here we are lol big thank you to @swiftispunk for always putting up with my sports ramblings LMAO im so sorry Han ily, special thanks to @burntheedges @undercoverpena @tightjeansjavi @msjarvis because this truly wouldn’t be here without y’all - you don’t know how much you babes mean to me & I can’t thank y’all enough…now to you, if you’re reading this too I also can’t thank you enough ♡

You barely have any solid memories of Joel Miller, even if he was your dad’s oldest friend. And if you were being honest, you remember his brother Tommy more who smiled so warmly and seemed to radiate warmth.

Now you stand before Joel Miller’s face on the side of the Globe Life field along with the rest of the Texas Rangers professional baseball team.

It’s a cool evening in Arlington. Everyone seems to bask in the weather that feels perfect for a night of baseball.

Home from your first grad school semester, you didn’t think you’d be going to a game. But your parents explained how good the tickets were, and that even if you didn’t care about the game, you could just enjoy the stadium. So with the promise of free food and a nice night out, you were sold.

Now you’re here.

“Yesterday Joel said to head to the side entrance, that’s where we can check in.” Your dad eagerly explains and stunned you simply follow along like a confused duckling.

The sea of jerseys sweeps you into a sports wave until you’re deposited in a new space. Your jaw almost drops.

The VIP suites sit at the very side edge of the field, and it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen.

The seats are incredible. Everything feels deluxe but comfortable. Someone calls out to your mom, and soon enough the rest of the Miller family approaches.

Tommy’s married now and his wife Maria is lovely, so is their baby. Joel’s daughters, Sarah and Ellie, are older. Time sucker punches you in the gut seeing how much time has passed, but you warmly greet everyone. You realize how long it really has been since you saw any of them.

You greet everyone warmly and appreciate all their surprised welcome seeing you back.

“Joel’s glad y’all were finally able to make it. Been talking about it since yesterday.” Tommy explains.

“Yeah us too! Just worked out that we all could come out and enjoy this with someone back home now.” You mom teases, but it’s warm.

Even though you were cities away, the new workload just kept you so busy.

You’re grateful to be here too. Even though your mind still swirls trying to grasp all of this.

You knew your dad’s friend made it big as a professional baseball player. Joel and his family left Austin to move to Arlington after he signed for the Rangers. So you rarely saw them. But with your mom’s job recently relocating here, your dad talked non stop about maybe seeing more of the games. It never really clicked that your family knew a professional sports athlete. Plus you never cared too much for sports to even look more into it.

Now as the game starts with a wild explosive and electric opening, you feel like you’ve slipped into another reality.

Then Joel’s entrance arrives, and your heart jumps out of your chest. The stadium erupts in a wild frenzy. The music for his arrival is western themed, grand and epic.

��All of this is because the league calls him Cowboy Miller.” Your dad explains.

The nickname was given to him not just because of his very southern twang, but Joel’s cold demeanor on the mound along with his wild style of pitching. All this led to him being deemed a Cowboy.

You understand why.

A serious air of power radiates from Joel while he approaches the mound.

Wearing a jersey with the number two on it, he’s older, more distinguished than the last time you remember him. Grays pepper his beard and the shadow of his baseball cap highlights the wrinkles flowing across his face.

He’s handsome, utterly gorgeous. His shoulders look broad, pure striking mountains, in his white jersey.

It’s like your mind finally registers and settles into the reality he’s a man, a full grown and incredible man.

And he really is incredible.

Even though he’s older for a pitcher, he still possesses dazzling talent. You even clap loudly when he strikes one of the batters out.

Your eyes never leave him. Joel sternly staring down the batter is terrifying. His legs look strong as he whips the ball fast to the home plate. Your eyes can’t help but flicker to his ass when he walks back to the dugout.

He’s gorgeous.

But cold reality crashes into you when your dad brightly yells. Joel is your dad’s friend, and that thought sours the bubbling feelings in your chest.

So you try focusing on the game, which actually turns out to be rather fun. The vibe of the stadium, along with the atmosphere of the game itself, is easy to melt into.

At one point someone gets a hit off Joel and he has to run to cover first. He’s surprisingly fast. Seeing him catch the ball, get the out, is so impressive and hot as fuck.

After that the Rangers switch pitchers.

As he leaves the mound, the stadium cheers at Joel’s exit. Very politely he nods, raising his hand in a quick goodbye to everyone. Then he scans the crowd.

It’s admirable seeing how he instantly finds where his family is. Joel’s roughed face melts soft with a small crooked grin hearing the applause they give him. He even spots your dad proudly cheering.

Joel’s eyes then lock with yours. Still walking towards the dugout, his face stays on you while his focus narrows in a cloudy confusion like he’s trying to recognize you.

Then his eyes go wide as realization sinks in.

You weakly grin back. It’s all you can do before Joel is fully gone from your line sight. Your heart thumps erratically within its cage.

The Rangers unfortunately lose by three. Once the game ends, you decide to swing by the merch store.

“Guess the game made you a fan huh?” You mom perks up noticing you eyeing the jerseys.

You shrug easily with an eased grin.

After this the Rangers have a five game stretch at home.

You only know because after the game you check for all things about the team, about Joel. You haven’t brought yourself to look at any videos of Joel yet. But you did discover from the team's instagram that he has one too.

Early the next morning, still lounging in bed, you scroll through Joel’s instagram page. It seems very professional, like it’s run by a social media manager primarily using it to promote Joel without being too personal.

You’re not paying attention, still a bit too focused on your phone, when a knock comes at the door.

Your face scrunches up confused. Then terror sucker punches you when you see who’s at the door.

No way.

Opening the door Joel stares at you, but this time wearing striking thick black rimmed glasses. They make him incredibly distinguished. Instead of seeming like a professional baseball player you’re reminded of a studious professor. And without a baseball cap on, you’re given sight of his soft glorious curls and the light gray streaks dancing among them.

He’s knockout beautiful.

Of course, you’re still in your mismatched lounge clothes and barely look like you’ve left bed.

He says your name, greeting you with a curt nod. You swiftly greet him with an awkward hello.

“Are you going for like a Clark Kent thing?” You blurt before you can stop yourself.

Joel’s face scrunches up as he sighs.

“Gotta take a break from my contacts s’all.” He admits with a grumpy reply.

But it’s his thick twang, the familiar southern accent - that sweeps you breathless.

“How do they even let you pitch?” You lightly tease, and

Joel rolls his eyes.

“Good to see ya too.” He rumbles, finally greeting you.

Now realizing he’s still standing in your doorway, you let him in.

Joel explains how he wanted to come by, visit your folks, catch up, and thank them for getting to stop by.

You’re the one early thanking him.

“The tickets were incredible. And you did amazing the other night.” You add sincerely.

“Oh, yeah thanks. Glad we won.” Joel nods.

“So they let you just roam around?” You ask slightly stunned still seeing him here in your family kitchen.

Joel scoffs. “Ain’t gotta be at the stadium till later.”

“So, was uh…surprised to see ya at the game.” His tone now reeks of trying to just make small talk.

Weakly you grin back explaining it was a nice change from your days on campus.

“So…back from school, huh.” That awkward thick small talk tone of his gets worse especially as he asks how’s it going and what you’re doing.

For being a talented professional pitcher, right now he simply seems like just some guy…

Just your dad’s pal.

The thought brings a strange acidic taste in your mouth.

You explain school is going good and how you’re here just visiting until the next semester starts up again.

Politely he asks what you’re going to school for. You tell him about your program, explaining all the classes you’re taking and even about the undergrad classes you help TA for.

Joel nods, quiet. You wonder if this sounds boring to a man who professionally plays baseball everyday.

“You’re damn smart.” He then whistles low, and his compliment jumpstarts your heart.

“Haven’t read a book since… shit can’t even remember when.” Joel muses.

“What? They don’t have you take baseball quizzes for pitching?” You joke, but it falls flat. Joel just gives you a dull look.

However his lips twitch faintly, like he’s fighting a grin, and it makes you grin.

“Though, I’ve heard you could maybe work on your slider pitch.” You add.

From the clips you’ve seen and the comments you’ve read, that's the one thing others have commented on, along with how unbearably handsome he is. ESPN even named him one of sports top most eligible bachelors.

“Oh?” Joel’s eyebrows rise up fast. Crossing his hands over his chest, Joel turns towards you more.

“Suddenly you’re a sports analyst now, huh?” The way his voice perks up confidently, matching your edge of playfulness, causes something to get stuck in your throat.

“Y’gonna start telling me how to pitch too? Just like your old man used to.” Joel adds still with that same tone and even chuckles.

But his words slice through you. Swallowing hard, you steel yourself tight.

Thankfully the sound of the front door unlocking arrives. Your parents are home.

“You’re fantastic, Joel. Glad I got to see it live.” You tell him earnestly looking him straight in the eye, as if to stare him down and remind him unwavering you’re a grown adult. Even if you’re in lounge shorts and holey t-shirt, you try holding your head high with as much grace as you can.

With that you head to tell your parents Joel is here then quietly slip back to your room.

Eventually your mom knocks on your door and pops her head in.

“There’s another game tonight. Wanna go?” She offers.

You decline, explaining you want to rest and catch up with a few shows you’ve been neglecting. Thankfully neither of your parents pressure you to join them.

With the house to yourself, you now search for as many videos of Joel you can.

Even slowly starting to understand baseball at a base level, you realize Joel ‘Cowboy’ Miller really is spectacular. You hear about his time playing for The University of Texas and how adored he is by his alma mater.

Then heat crawls up your chest when you see clips of him drenched in sweat, heavily breathing, or even licking his lingers to help with the ball grip.

You quickly turn the videos off before you get yourself worked up.

This has to be just a simple infatuated infestation. You simply need to try to shake it off.

The last home game the Rangers play the Minnesota Twins and Joel isn’t pitching. You again decide to sit this game out. You just have to detox yourself of Joel Miller.

Until you’re invited to a dinner cookout at his home. You thought about maybe playing sick, but with how hungry you are, you see this just as an opportunity to get a nice meal.

Your dad casually mentions Joel’s house has a pool, a nice bonus. He just forgot to mention how huge the Miller house would be.

Though gorgeously grand, it’s still surprisingly cozy. In the backyard you spot Joel at the grill and it makes your head spin. The weathered old burnt orange Texas longhorn shirt he wears looks cozy and casual, sits on him beautifully highlighting his shoulders.

You slip into the pool hoping it will cool you off. But your eyes always find Joel who now laughs with your dad.

Joel’s eyes suddenly flicker to yours, catching you staring red handed. Immediately you sink back into the water.

There’s more people here than expected and you feel a bit out of place. After drying off, you decide to head inside for a drink.

The soft Texas evening illuminates the home in a gentle glow. The music from outside floats in a soft hum making the room feel like it’s underwater.

Ellie told you the house was free for you to roam and from the quick tour she gave, you caught a glimpse of something you want to see more.

So letting yourself maybe take another peek, you walk back to the small alcove carved in the wall. It’s honestly a rather quiet achievement exhibition compared to other grand trophy rooms you’ve imagined.

There are honestly more pictures of Sarah and Ellie, along with Tommy and the rest of the Miller clan, decorating the main hallway of the house. All of it suits Joel.

His UT longhorn jersey is framed on the wall. There are a few awards clustered together, a couple of magazine covers where he looks so dashing in his uniform.

But what makes your heart float are the framed drawings of Joel with a baseball on the mound that range from adorable scribbles to a rather good pencil sketch. These had to be Ellie and Sarah’s work.

“If you’re thinkin’ about stealin’ somethin’ maybe go for the jersey. I can always get another one.”

Joel’s drawl trickles out, and you almost jump out of your skin. Turning to the side he walks to where you are. You hate how exposed you feel just being caught in his gaze and also obviously browsing in his home.

“Nah, I was hoping for a World Series ring to steal and sell but.” You shrug playful, knowing now he’s gone to the Series but never won.

Joel makes a low hissing sound like he’s injured.

“Damn, y’hit low.” He chuckles low.

You grin triumphantly.

“Don’t worry. You’ll get a ring someday.” You say simply.

“Sound sure about that.” He replies.

“Cause it’s true.” You nod. “You’re pretty great.”

Even with your limited knowledge of baseball, it’s easy to see how great he is. Joel is incredibly talented, a shining star stitched in accomplishment. Yet you can tell hasn’t let it go to his head. He’s anchored by his loved ones, and it’s admirable. You even tell him that.

“I…thanks.” He stumbles for a moment, deep dark eyes a bit cloudy as he searches your face with his voice thick and rumbled.

“What game has been your favorite?” You suddenly ask, wanting to know more about him.

His eyebrows furrow and his deep eyes glaze over a bit distant, creating a face of thought that looks adorable.

Then he nods with a soft grin remembering.

“One of the first games the girls gotta go to.” He paints a picture of seeing his daughters, sitting with their uncle Tommy, wearing too large adorable Texas Rangers jerseys.

“One of the best games I ever played.” He adds gently.

He really is a rare beauty of a man with a gilded heart of gold.

“And you? Your folks talk about ya nonstop. Tell me about grad school. And none of that simple ‘it’s good’ crap.” The quick playful mimic he does of your voice makes you laugh warm and bright.

So you tell him about your favorite moments from lecture and the fondness you have for simply embracing subjects you love so much.

Joel stares fully focused on you. You swear his eyes twinkle like stars might be sowed right in his deep earth depths.

He opens his mouth, eager to continue the conversation. Until the kitchen comes alive with more people entering inside. The bubble breaks, but electricity still brews under your skin.

The next day the Rangers have a game at Globe Life Field you go.

Even if Joel isn’t pitching, you want to experience this world he loves so much. You’re however surprised to find Joel is starting.

Your dad explains how one of the pitchers planned for today had to rest. So Joel will simply be the opener before the rest of the bullpen steps in.

Your heart doesn’t rage wildly as it did like seeing him the first time. Now you feel almost drawn to Joel. You focus on his stance on the mound, so disciplined and almost hauntingly serious.

The Arizona Diamondbacks batter hits the ball solid. It flies straight at Joel, and fear sinks its fangs into you.

Until with fast reflexes Cowboy Miller catches the ball eased. You and the stadium erupt wild.

The Rangers win one to four. On the high of the game, you head to the jerseys again in the shop.

“You should get one!” Your mom urges.

Your fingers itch, almost begging you to grab the jersey that says Miller on it. But something continues to hold you back.

On the drive back home, you now see all the great reaction clips and memes of the game. There's a particular one of Joel catching the ball that includes a great western music overlay, like he’s a hero in an old cowboy movie.

Feeling brave, you send the reel to his Instagram profile. You even add underneath the message “now you just gotta work on that slider pitch.”

You send it. Think, hell at worst the poor social media manager will see it and not even give it the time or day. He must get so many messages anyway.

When you get home, you see the message has been read.

But also, a new profile has followed you.

JM_8712

The profile also sent you a message.

JM_8712: ain’t nothing wrong with my slider

No way.

This can’t be who you think it is. You message back saying this possibly can’t be the real Joel Miller because he doesn’t seem like the type to even know how to send a gif.

JM_8712: think ur so funny huh

The account sends a simple gif of someone rolling their eyes.

Then another message flies in.

JM_8712: ur dad get those damn nachos he kept bitchin about with Tommy?

It feels like one of Joel’s changeup pitches knocks you out.

Because it’s really him messaging you. When you even go to double check the blank profile just to make sure, it barely follows more than twenty people and you spot Ellie and Sarah’s accounts among those profiles.

Warmth unfolds from your chest, dangerous and electric. This is Joel’s personal private account.

Unknowingly this all kicks off something you never thought would have ever started. You and Joel start talking.

The messages flow between you and him, back and forth, at first just talking about the games. Then, when the Rangers leave to travel, the messaging increases.

Joel sends you pictures of the places he travels, the food he eats, the vacant stadiums he gets to enjoy.

You devour it all with a greedy eagerness. However it dawns on you that you’re sliding down a slope too slippery to stop.

For the rest of the summer you earnestly check your messages on the app.

One evening, on a stormy delayed game against the Dodgers, your messages don’t send through. The weather is getting worse in Los Angeles.

“They’re gonna reschedule the game. Storm’s not letting up.” Your dad comments glumly.

You just hope Joel is alright.

Instagram finally alerts you of a message and your heart jumps.

Joel.

JM_8712: sorry connections shit

Then he simply sends you his phone number.

You wonder if you’re seeing things.

Trying to keep calm you text the number a simple message asking if he’s alright.

When your text alert chimes, it rattles your brain.

Yeah im good thanks

Then another message follows. It’s a photo from the locker, bags packed like he’s ready to leave.

Looks like room service for tonight

It’s Joel. You’re texting Joel right now.

It feels like a step deeper into a current you never want to leave.

Texting seems to shift the energy between you and him, a transmutation you never could have imagined.

You text Joel good morning and he tells you good night. You and him bond over a love of music. He’s got incredible taste while also complimenting yours. You stay up late on game days when pitched and now feel your throat dry up knowing you’re getting to know the man on the mound.

The desire brewing more for Joel mixes with the summer heat and melts the days away. Soon enough summer dwindles away, and your new semester approaches.

The drive back to your apartment is a good couple of hours. Funny enough Joel is also traveling today for a game. Stopping for gas midway, your phone goes off.

You think at first it must be one of your parents.

But instead it’s Joel.

You scramble to answer.

“Hey,” his voice sounds incredibly richer and deep on the phone.

“Y’doin’ alright?” Joel asks hesitant.

That catches you off guard.

“Oh yeah, just finished putting in gas actually. Why, what’s up?” You relax more into the conversation now curious to why he called asking that.

Joel sighs.

“Sorry I just…your last text uh, it just got me worried.”

Now you’re really curious about what you texted him. It had been half an incomplete response you sent. Even from your side it seemed abrupted and strange.

Sighing, you apologize that you didn’t even realize you had done that. In the rush of wanting to get out on the road you must have just sent the text.

But it suddenly hits you. Joel called because he was worried. That thought rips into you with a ferocious rawness.

“Okay yeah,” Joel says a bit clumsily. “I’ll…let you go.”

“No, it’s okay.” You quickly reassure him. “How’s the traveling going?”

“Good, just finished rewatching one of the inflight movies.”

“Please tell me it was Field of Dreams.” You tease him with the iconic baseball film as you head back on the road. Just now with Joel on the phone.

On speaker, Joel scoffs echoing in your car all around you. You realize this might be a bad decision trying to stay focused driving while also talking to him.

“Funny.” His thick drawl is dry but so softly teasing just below the surface.

“Was some new movie Sarah told me to watch but…fell asleep.” Joel admits low.

Thinking of him asleep on the plane clutches at something warm and deep in you.

Yes you can admit how badly you want Joel, how you picture what his calloused fingers would feel like on you, in you. But you also are finding yourself aching for more now…

Like falling asleep beside him while watching a movie, or sharing a meal with him and teasing him over his dry sense of humor.

It’s dangerous falling deeper like this.

Especially now in a blink you realize you’ve been talking to Joel this entire drive to your apartment.

“Shit sorry.” He realizes it when he sees the time. “Y’should’ve told me to fuck off. Don’t gotta waste your time talkin’ to some old ass like me.”

He rarely comments on his age, and his words sink hard into your gut.

“Trust me… I’m glad I get to talk to you.” You truthfully tell him.

“You’re the one who probably has better things to do than talk to me.” You add slightly dejected. The words even sting your lips.

“Like watching Field of Dreams.” You quickly add some light humor trying to dispel your heartache leaking in.

Joel snorts.

“Definitely would rather chat with you than watch that.” Joel mutters, but his world electrifies your skin.

“I’m flattered knowing I can beat Kevin Costner.” You joke. When he snorts amused, warmth fills you to the brim.

Someone in the distance calls out to Joel, and you know your time with him is limited. It’s confirmed when he sighs.

“Gonna be landing soon. Ya make it to your place okay?” He asks.

“I did, thank you. And thanks for keeping me company on the drive.” You smile to yourself.

“Don’t mention it. Uh, glad you made it back safe.” Joel replies and his words make you melt.

You say his name quick.

“Can you just… Text me when you make it to the hotel?” Just to know he’s safe. It’s simple, but it feels as if the words weigh a ton.

A moment passes.

“Yeah, will do.” Joel agrees.

He doesn’t text you. Instead Joel calls you when he gets to the hotel.

“Saw a full on fuckin’ fight at the airport when we landed.” Joel rambles immediately, and you learn how much of a secret gossip he is. While Joel breaks down all the details of what he saw, you realize he wanted to tell you about this.

A light burst in your chest because you want to tell Joel everything too.

And when your next semester starts, you tell him all you can.

The texting stays but evolves into more frequent phone calls. Joel listens to you with a gruff saint’s patience. He faintly picks up the names of your professors, even the name of your roommate. At one point he even stays on the phone with you when you cook dinner.

Joel calls during the stretch of waiting at the airports, a few times after games. Sometimes he rants about his teammates, sighs about his frustrations when they lose or when he ends up not doing well on the mound.

While every inch in your body still hums for Joel, it’s steady now - like you’re slowly accepting these emotions fully into your bloodstream and part of your existence.

You adore Joel, maybe more than you want to admit.

During a rare night out with your friends from class, feeling nice in your favorite outfit, courage courses through you. After posting a few photos from your night out, you also post a rather nice selfie.

You pray Joel sees it. Then you get a bit tipsy, and it takes all your willpower not to text Joel.

But the alcohol burns in you. Once you’re back at your apartment, in the safety of your room, you pull up your favorite video.

It’s a spring training video the Rangers made of the team preparing for the upcoming season. The video ranged from showing the guys on the field practicing, to them in the weight room.

There’s a nice small segment just on Cowboy Joel Miller. Specifically he’s training with a few weights and when you first saw it, your throat got so dry.

Joel is drenched in sweat. The simple worn navy blue shirt sticks to his body, highlighting the tone of his arms and width of his shoulders. Curls wet with sweat stick to his forehead. His concentrated face is sinful.

But not as hot as the sounds he makes.

The grunts, the soft growls, the exhales he gives lifting the weights… they drench your thoughts with images of him fucking.

You’ve never done this before, never gotten off on his videos. You never wanted to fall this far.

But it’s so hard when your body feels molten, so wet hearing with his groans directly in your ears. Your fingers trail down to relieve the throbbing wet ache between your legs.

Imagining Joel’s sweaty gorgeous body pressed against yours, picturing his thicker fingers in you, getting to taste him on your tongue - you come incredibly fast.

The next morning a text and a somber guilt wait for you.

Joel of course had messaged you.

Looks like you had fun last night

So he did see your pictures. A blistering heat crawls in your throat.

But reality sinks in fast. You got off to Joel. You don’t want to feel guilty. You reason there’s probably others who have maybe done it. But it does quietly eat at you.

So much that you don’t even reply to Joel for the whole day trying to sort your mind out. He’s the one that eventually calls you.

“Y’go out on a date or somethin’?” Joel asks about the night out, and your mind sputters to a halt.

“Oh uh, no. Just went out with some friends in class.”

“Oh.” He replies quick. “Well, looked like fun.”

You agree and thank him.

“But yeah, no dates for me.” You weakly laugh.

“Yeah? Any reason why?” Joel presses.

Because you’re partially head over heels for him, but you can’t admit that yet.

“No one’s asked me recently that’s all.” You reply simply. You’ve done the dating apps, had the headache mess of ghosting and awkward dates.

Joel snorts. “Pretty thing like you? Hard to imagine.”

His words, like a change up ball that drops wildly in the air, disorient you.

“Trust me, it’s real.” You dryly reply.

“And you? You must be seeing some famous celebrity in secret huh?” You teasingly ask.

You’ve seen the ESPN clips of the beautiful reporters flirting with him, cooing at how handsome he is. He probably could snag a supermodel or other famous person.

Joel barks a hollow laugh of a thing.

“No, none of that.” He answers.

“Ain’t not time for that or…mainly…haven’t found anyone who’s got the patience for me.”

Your heart sinks.

“Wait, what do you mean?” You quietly press.

He sighs.

“M’ older, a single dad. My schedule ain’t perfect. And those that have tried to uh… pursue something haven’t always had the best intentions.”

His voice trails off somber. You wonder how many just wanted him for his money or fame.

A grim cloud seems to settle above you.

“You’re a great guy Joel, an incredible one.” You earnestly tell him. “Those who can’t see it don’t deserve you.”

“And I have to say it but…you’re a real catch.” You go for the obvious baseball pun.

Joel’s chuckle is a beautiful low gruff treasure.

“That was bad.” You can almost picture him shaking his head. “But thanks…same uh, same goes for you. You’re smart, gorgeous. Someone will come around to see you’re worth it.”

You’re drowning in his words. They feel too much.

He ends up having to quickly end the call with his manager calling, and you’re thankful for it. Because this blooming rawness in you feels like it’s getting too much, yet not enough.

Joel’s compliments are sincere. But many feelings tangle you up. It hurts, like you’re stuck in a rose bush trying to get comfortable within the thorns.

Then, the universe decides to pull you away from Joel.

Classes kick up and the workload piles on. You’re exhausted. It even gets harder to reply to Joel as swiftly as you did. You even miss a few of his phone calls and don’t even call him back.

The days blur together.

Then, one morning you find a text waiting for you.

hope you’re alright

You want to cradle that message.

When you call Joel, it’s like not a day has passed between you and him. Your heart soars hearing his voice again.

“So uh…” Joel begins cautiously, and you’ve never heard him this nervous almost. “We’ll be heading your way into town soon.”

That’s right.

Caught up in the semester you completely forgot the team would be playing the Astros soon. Excitement immediately rises in you.

“Hope ya can come out and see us. And if ya do, let me know.” Joel suggests and you swear his voice sounds shy.

The minute the conversation ends, you try checking for tickets. But they’re a pretty penny. You jokingly circle the top section, the highest nosebleeds, and text him saying he needs to try and find you from here.

He texts back immediately.

Don’t worry about the tickets. Just head to will call and let them know you’re with me. Got it covered

That might be one of the hottest things you’ve ever read.

Game day can’t approach any faster. Your parents even mention the upcoming game when you call to check up.

“You should try to go!” Your dad urges, eager.

A part of you has wondered if Joel mentioned you to your dad. You’ve kept quiet, not saying a thing about whatever this is with Joel, and you now think so did Joel.

You take a small comfort in that.

When game day does arrive, you head to Minute Maid Park alone. Your closest friend and classmate couldn’t make it, and neither could your roommate. But for some reason, you’re slightly okay with being here by yourself.

At the ticket window, you nervously say that you’re here for Joel. Like if nothing they verify your name, and with an ease slide tickets your way.

Not just any tickets, but seats right by the Rangers dugout.

Still stunned, but now slightly lost, you can’t help but feel stranded in the stadium.

“You okay, sweetie?” A lovely voice comes and when you turn, you find a sweet older motherly woman. She wears a Texas Rangers jersey and another younger woman stands besides her in the same jersey. They both stare at you concerned.

“You lost?” The younger woman asks sympathetically.

It must be that obvious. The motherly older woman politely asks to check your tickets to point you in the right direction. She perks up.

“Aw look at that! You’re sitting close to us! Come on, we’ll show ya around!” She beams warmly.

“Wait, are you sure?” You ask worried.

“Oh of course,” the younger woman reassures you with a smile. “The stadium is so huge and besides, us Rangers fans gotta stick together.”

She then winks, noticing the Rangers shirt you bought and wore for the game.

You find out Malinda, the older woman, is the mother of the first baseman. And the other lady, Casey, is his wife.

Kindly, this sweet family adopts you, guiding you towards the section literally right besides the dugout on the other side of the net.

You’re stunned in shock yet again.

Even though your tickets are a few rows away from the two sweet ladies, they reassure you you’ll be fine sitting with them.

It’s beautiful and comforting.

“So, who are you here for?” Casey asks with a friendly gossip like whisper. “These seats are for friends and family, and I haven’t seen you around before.”

But then she quickly reassures you don’t have to explain if you don't want to.

You with a weak laugh you’re here to see Joel, adding that he’s a family friend. Her eyes go wide.

“Oh wow! And he warmed up today too so he might pitch!” She says excitedly.

Joel had texted you before the line up was confirmed that he would be warming up.

Don’t know if I’m gonna get put in but just in case

Even if he didn’t, you told him you just wanted to be there to support him.

With the Rangers being the visiting team, they bat first. You want to root for the guys to get a hit and get on base, but you also already selfishly want to see Joel.

Three outs come and the Rangers switch to take the field. No sign of Joel.

In fact he doesn’t show up until the fifth inning, and it happens so casually. Joel simply walks out from the dugout and takes your breath away.

The team wears their cobalt blue jerseys and the color flatters Joel marvelously.

It feels like seeing him for the first time all over again but through a deeper lens you can’t explain.

You clap and cheer with pride when he manages to strike out the first batter. Then the second.

Two strikeouts back to back.

Joel told you back in his younger days he struck out seven hitters in a row. Now for him to get two, much less strike out the third batter, is something to applaud and admire. And the Rangers fans here, including yourself, cheer loud when the team heads back for the next inning.

“Cowboy Miller in his golden age.” Someone off to the side whistles appreciatively.

You don’t fight the syrupy fondness swallowing you whole.

“It’s rare that a more…seasoned pitcher like Joel still is relied on,” your new friend Casey explains. “But it’s hard to see why not. Everyone’s been saying like he’s almost found a new groove and still has so much power.”

He’s a force you’re terribly in awe of.

Seeing the whip of how strong his body still pitches the ball with a dizzying speed, how handsome he looks under the baseball cap, you want to savor this as much as you can.

Joel manages to get two more strikes out in the second inning. Then by the seventh they get a hit off him but thankfully, no runs come in. Cowboy Miller ends the inning striking out the final batter. You, and the other Rangers fans present, erupt wild.

He did amazing.

Laser focused, locked in on the game, he doesn’t search the crowd or even glance up and you understand. The game gets intense when the Astros manage to hit a home run in the eight. In the end the Rangers win because of an error.

But it’s still a sweet victory.

You relish and warmly celebrate it with your co cheerleaders for the game that made you feel so welcomed with them. You’re about to head up and leave, start looking for an Uber ride home, when Malinda calls to you.

“Sweetie? Aren’t ya gonna wait with us and greet the guys!?” She asks with warm curious sweetness.

You can’t say no.

The commotion sweeps you into a neon coated excitement. There’s a special area sectioned off, almost in a backstage-like section that connects to the entry way for the visiting teams. You’re surprised at how many others wait here.

The team slowly trickles out of the locker room and into the hallway. You’re hilariously reminded of a class being let out.

Then the world then melts away when Joel walks out. Focused on his phone you almost want to call out to him, but your voice gets caught in your throat.

Putting his phone away Joel finally glances up and spots you.

Even with his baseball cap on, you see his eyes widen for a fraction. Your body reacts on its own moving towards him. But he also walks fiercely towards you.

The world blurs away for a moment and then without even thinking, you’re embracing him.

It happens so naturally you don’t even realize what you did until you blink and it’s like you’ve been thrown into cold water.

Panicking, you’re about to pull away until Joel’s arms slowly wrap around you.

“Good to see ya too.” He says low gruff but you’re taken out by the knees grateful your body doesn’t give out.

He smells of sweat, of the dirt on the field, and something sharply Joel, and it’s wonderful.

Quickly you draw yourself away to proudly tell him how amazing he did. Joel waves you off with a gruff noise as his eyes refuse to meet you, almost bashful.

It’s been so long since you’ve seen him this close, been in the same space as him. And it feels so different.

“Alright, dinner?” Someone says, and when you turn, you’re stunned to see it’s the team manager.

Guess this means you’ll be saying goodbye.

“Headin’ home?” Joel asks when he notices you staying back once everyone funnels outside.

“Uh yeah, gotta grab an Uber first. Didn’t wanna drive down here and deal with Houston traffic along with awful parking during a game.” You joke, and Joel snorts.

“Let me take ya back then.” He offers, and you almost drop your phone.

You scramble out reassuring Joel it’s fine.

“Besides, don’t you have dinner to go to?” And where would he even get a car to take you.

“S’fine. Would rather make sure you get home safe anyway.” He then tells you to hang tight then goes to grab one of the rental cars the team has on ready.

Because of course they do.

Your blood hums wild knowing Joel is taking you home, that you’re going to be alone with him. Even in this glimmering dusted dream you still want to tell Malinda and Casey goodbye and thanks for treating you so kindly.

You wish them well and even welcome their warm goodbye hug.

“Wish you could come to dinner!” Casey frowns.

“Maybe next time.” Her mother in law says bright.

Next time.

“Yes hope to see you at more games.” Casey grins and the possibility bubbles iridescent in you.

With a goodbye to them you wait for Joel. There are still a few others of the wives or girlfriends hanging around while the team sorts out where to go.

You haven’t turned to give them any attention. However something crawls on your skin like you’re hyper aware of being watched.

“Did you see how she hugged him? Probably just using him, poor Joel.” One of them whispers.

“She’s not even that pretty.” Another one giggles.

“Oh then you know he’s maybe just using her then! And if that’s the case then good for Joel.” The other replies with a searing joke that makes your stomach sick.

Joel returns, keys in his hand. “Ready to go?”

You weakly grin back.

You should be basking in this moment of finally getting to be alone with Joel, of getting to see him drive you around. Once in the car he took off his cap allowing you sight of his soft hair. The darkness of the car, the warmth of the city lights flickering by, all coat him glorious. Yet those comments from earlier fester poisonous and sour any hope of enjoying this.

You stay rather quiet while giving him directions to your place.

Joel however is surprisingly talkative.

“So you’ll have to give me recommendations of places to go around here.” His voice even sounds just traces softer, higher almost - like he’s happy being here.

And it kills you.

“Y’seem quiet, you okay?” He notices it of course, ever aware.

“Yeah, just a bit tired. Didn’t know the game would take that much outta me.” You lie.

Eventually you arrive at your apartment complex.

“Your place is nice.” Joel admires as he helps you out of the car like the Texan gentleman he is. He even follows you to your door.

You graciously thank him again for this night and for taking you home.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks again.

You walk a few steps away from him. The night all around is still quiet, feels soupy with how much hangs in you.

You refuse to cry about this, don’t want to get emotional. If anything, you deserve to treat this like an adult.

“Joel…” you start cautiously, already hating the way your voice wavers.

“Yeah?” His voice stays steady, unbothered, but his eyes furrowing say otherwise.

“What…what is this? What are we?” You ask as steady as you can, but your tone continues to crack.

Joel’s eyes brow furrow and his mouth closes, tightening his jaw.

“Just…good friends.” He replies simply, almost cold. “Just showing my pal’s daughter a nice night.”

There it is.

Your soul deflates. So all the times you’ve felt like this might be something, maybe it's just been you wishing it would be.

So salvaging whatever dignity left, you nod.

“Thanks again, Joel.” You reply briskly and return walking towards your door.

He says your name. It stops you dead in your tracks.

“Why? Why d’ya ask that?” He asks, pressing firm and hard.

You turn back to him, and a deep scowl is etched on his face.

“It doesn’t matter.” You answer.

“The fuck does that mean?” He snaps a bit sharp.

“It means what it means.” You fire back.

“Bullshit. Why did you ask that?” Joel growls out firmer.

“Even if I told you, it doesn’t matter.” You repeat.

“Stop sounding like a fuckin’ owl.” His voice rises hard and fast, like a hand slamming on the wall.

It startles you, makes your eyes water and something in you shakes. Mainly because you know this is beginning to taste like the end. The smallest trace of hope is dissipating right before you.

You blink back tears, and immediately Joel’s face falls.

“Honey, I’m sorry-”

Shaking your head, you cut him off. Not even the sweet pet name he effortlessly uses can shake you.

Through gritted teeth you tell him to go.

“Not when you’re this upset.” He urges.

Through tears a sad water laugh escapes you and Joel’s eyes go cloudy.

“I’m realizing…I’ll never be anything to you then just your friend's kid, huh?” Your voice is waterlogged and you can’t fight it.

“You are.” He states simple and straightforward.

You nod, swallowing back the heartache boiling over.

“Can’t be anythin’ more than that.” Joel adds through mutter.

“Why?” You now ask him. Under the amber light of your apartment’s hallway the most frustrated cloudy look hardens his face.

His eyes scan your face then he steps closer towards you

“Don’t act dumb, sweetheart.” His voice rips out low cruel, slightly harsh.

You’re not and you tell him that.

“I…” the words you’ve held locked up so fiercely in your heart now sneak out from their bars to escape.

“I’d give anything to be yours, Joel.” You croak barely realizing you even said that.

He inhales, and his face goes taunt.

You wait for the sharp reply, even brace for it.

Instead Joel swoops in, kisses you wild like a sudden storm, and presses you against the door of your apartment.

Greedily, you claw onto him not wanting to ever let this go, to let him go. Your mouth begs him more to invade and consume. And he does so with a steady hunger.

The clamor into your apartment is messy, but at one point Joel cautiously stops to look around.

“My roommate’s visiting family…” you reassure, kissing his neck and softly under the side of his jaw with delicate cautious lips.

“Just you and me.” You whisper soft.

Joel takes command the minute you lead him to your room.

“Thought about this. Fuck, think about ya all the damn time.” He growls against your neck as he slides your bra off and runs a callous hand over your chest.

“Fucked my fist that first night you went swimmin’ at m’house.” Joel’s words make you whine and then his lips lick against your skin trying to savor you.

“Me too.” You admit through a whimper. “Touched myself thinking of you.”

Joel freezes.

“Tell me,” he says rather calmly, deadly almost.

Your syrupy lust begins fading away when you realize what you said, what he asks for, and what your answer will be.

Your lips and eyes shut close.

Then Joel’s warm breath, like a ghost, crawls against up your chest and tickles against your ear now.

“Come on, honey,” his voice is utterly decadent with a plea. “Tell me, please.”

You swallow hard telling Joel you don't want him to get weirded out.

He hums against your neck already starting to suck a mark against your skin. Your eyes roll back, and the embarrassment is quickly fading away.

“Promise, I’ll be okay.” Joel reassures you with a mumble against your skin.

So with a shaky voice, you weakly admit how you touched yourself to videos of him.

He groans.

“Baby, oh fuck, fuckin - shit.” Joel sputters out hard, like he just got kicked in the gut, and you’re worried until his lips smash into yours.

He devours you.

You’re swept into a tangled dizzying frenzy. Your clothes practically get ripped off as do Joel’s while he clutches onto you and licks into your mouth.

“That’s my girl. Knew you’d be m’good girl.” He says almost drunk and you’re done for.

You fall into the chasm with no hopes of turning back. But you don’t want to.

Joel feels like a god carving open your universe. You want to consume him and want him to consume you. He becomes your center of gravity.

In the aftermath, you’re left basking in Joel’s warmth and never want to leave.

Even though you were in his arms, Joel had to sit up to take a call and now scrolls through his phone. Your fingers trace his beautiful back.

You’re thankful for all the soft lamps you bought that now melt him into a dreamlike glow.

“Joel.”

He hums a gruff gentle noise that says he’s listening.

“I don’t…” you begin softly, then tell him your doubts. You don’t want him to think you’re simply using him for his status or money.

“Joel… you could quit or retire tomorrow and work with your brother as a contractor and I’d still always want you the way I want you.” Your deliciously aching limbs, the soft afterglow, all of it has you speaking soft and freely.

You never wanted Joel because of his fame or even because of the forbidden taste of him being friends with your dad. You wanted Joel for deeper reasons, some that have carved out a chasm in your heart.

You explain this all to him best as you can without rambling or sounding silly.

Joel sighs.

“Y’shouldn’t.” His voice is a hollow rumble. “I’m old, friends with your dad. We shouldn’t be doin’ this.”

Now a bitter venom spills in you.

You glare at his back, how his shoulders slump defeated while you sit up

“I'm an adult, Joel. And if that’s all you’re worried about then sorry it’s a shit reason.” You launch back.

Over his shoulder he glares at you.

“If…” you swallow hard. “If you’re the one who wants to leave, because i’m that young, or you really don't want this or don’t feel what I feel, then fine. At least tell me that.”

“But I care about you. And I want to make this, us, work.” You finish firmly, even with how much emotions clash in your chest.

Joel sighs again. His eyes face turns away now down downcasted.

“Didn’t wanna want you the way I do. You’re so bright, fucking’ smart and so g’damn gorgeous.” He softly admits.

A pause settles between him and you.

“Y’could be with someone younger, less complicated.” Joel admits low.

“Don’t want anyone younger or less complicated. Just want you.” You reassure with a soft steady mutter.

He goes quiet again.

“Used to not get bothered when I started leavin’ away games by myself. With Tommy married and the business booming, then the girls startin’ to have their own lives…I didn’t mind doing this alone.”

Underneath his words you catch it, his rusting loneliness.

“But then…these past few months…and now today seeing ya waitin’ for me…” he says clipped, like the rest of his words are caught in his throat and he can’t free them yet

Joel turns, and his eyes bore into you.

The silence stays as you stare unflinchingly back at him.

He doesn’t need to say anything else. You don’t think you have to either. Like a magnetic pull, it’s effortless moving towards him. Joel’s warm large calloused hand, seasoned from so many seasons of hard work, of pitching, cradles your face. You kiss him with every inch of your heart.

Even after spending the night, you’re surprised Joel hasn’t left yet. He even comments about figuring out lunch plans with you.

“You have another game today, Cowboy.” You comment.

The term makes his eyebrows rise, and the most coy smirk tugs his face making him look so charming.

“Got today off to rest, ya little shit.” It’s affectionate. “Besides my back ain’t what it use to be and after goin’ more rounds with ya this morning-”

In the middle of your living room you rush to kiss him.

The rest of the day unfolds like a dream drenched and stitched from every domestic fantasy you’ve ever had. Joel stands in your kitchen when you make him a quick lunch and you laugh apologizing that your fridge isn’t MLB diet certified. Joel steals your last saved snack after that joke.

Cuddled snug on the couch with him, you try watching a movie but Joel, so greedy and handsy, ends up fucking your brains out with his tongue.

When dinner rolls around, you order from your favorite local takeout place and Joel pays for everything. You ignore all the work you need to do for the week and don’t care. You’re here at this moment and want to stay crystalized in it for as long as you can.

But tomorrow is the last day before the team leaves to Miami to play the Marlins.

While showering with him, you wrap yourself against Joel’s back already dreading his leave. He seems to sense it too because his hands squeezes yours.

Against your shower wall he glides into you tender and slow, almost trying to draw out every inch of this.

Later that night, you try staying up but the day begins settling in. Your eyes flutter trying to fight sleep.

He mutters your name soft while his fingers run soft against your side.

“Hm?” You answer, trying hard to fight your tired eyes.

“Don’t want ya to think i’m ever using you, honey. You’re not just some young thing keepin’ me company.”

His words are simple, but they erupt so much in you.

Joel had been spooning you from behind, but now you immediately turn around to burrow your face against his chest. You reassure him and his arms tighten around you wonderful chains you wish never break.

But the next morning arrives.

“Gonna come to our last game here?” Joel asks while he packs up.

“Don’t know, I heard you guys still have that really old guy who might be pitching.” You say with a shrug.

His face frowns hard, but Joel moves to playfully smack your ass while you laugh. He quickly draws you in for another kiss.

You have class tomorrow and work you need to jump on, but you go to the game. Joel doesn’t play, but you don’t mind. Getting to hug him goodbye one last night in the shadow of the stadium is worth it.

“Text ya when we get to the airport.” Joel promises, secretly placing a soft kiss on your head.

That night when you get home you order not one, but two Joel Miller jerseys.

[marcsburnerphone]

Bars and broken hearts

Simon Riley x F!reader 

Summary: The 141 minus john goes out for drinks and when johnny decides to throw simon a spontaneous bachelor surprise it goes left quickly.

Warnings: angst, betrayal, infidelity?, guilt, heartbreak, not a happy ending, alcohol consumption, lmk if I’m missing anything.

—-----------------

“Well I think you should go.” you say to your fiance who's currently trying to back out of plans he promised to attend with his mates, again.

“Why can't you just beg me to stay isn’t that what you’re are supposed to do.” he says in a whine although with a gruff voice like his only you could pick up on the slight change.

“And hear Johnny complain in my ear the next time I see him cause you’re never out of the house, yeah no thanks.” you say while stirring honey into your cup of tea. You can practically feel the holes his eyes are burning into your skull.

“You know they are always up to no good when we go out.” he says in a condescending tone.

“I trust you.” he has never given you a reason not to.

“You should they’d never let anything come between us, they love you more than me.” he says while slowly approaching you from the back planting a firm kiss to your cheek.

“So you’ll be attending then?” you say gleefully.

“Yeah, just this once though, gives me leeway to say no next time.” you laugh softly, simon and his thought out plans to get out of leaving home.

“I'll drop you off, don't look too good.” you say turning around, he gives you a strong kiss on the lips, tangling his large hand into your hair as his other hand squeezes gently at your ass groaning roughly as he hikes your thigh onto his waist.

“Yeah, nice try.” you say pushing him away reluctantly.

“Sure you don’t want me to stay?” You do want him to stay.

“I’m sure.” he groans, walking off into your shared bedroom carelessly pulling a black shirt and pants off a hanger, nearly snapping them.

You laugh to yourself taking a seat onto the couch as he noticeably makes his steps extra heavy on his way to the bathroom. You patiently wait for him, swiping mindlessly through social media.

“Right, I'm ready.” his voice slightly startles you and he quickly softens his attitude.

“If you would’ve kissed me looking like this i might’ve just kept you in.” you sigh into his mouth pulling him down for a kiss.

“Later I arrive, the later I leave, let's go.” you drive him to a pub not too far from your home. His hand squeezes at your thigh the whole way there until you arrive.

“I'll see you in a bit, I love you.” the corner of his mask lifts slightly.

“Better not be late for me doll, I love you more by the way.” he says while shutting the door waving you off.

—----------

“Aww where’s the lass?” Johnny questions still mostly sober.

“At home she said she’ll join next time.” Simon lies, you hate babysitting three 200 pound plus men after a long night.

“Tell her I promise to not empty my stomach in her car next time, I swear it.” soap says while ordering a round of shots.

“Like she’d believe that after the past TWO times.” Johnny looks remorseful as Gaz laughs then gags remembering what it was like to sit in the backseat with him.

“I feel like we're going to get into some trouble tonight.” Johnny says while downing his third shot early into the night. “When is a night with you not trouble?” gaz says to the two men smiling widely.

“When is a night with me not fun you mean.” Johnny says with a devilish smirk.

“Chaos you mean?.” Simon quips.

“All of those sound like a good time to me.” Johnny says while waving down the bartender again.

—------

“You’ll be approaching married life soon.” Johnny says with slightly slurred speech.

“Indeed I will.” It makes a tipsy drunk Simon smile as he lifts the bottom of his mask to take a swig of the whiskey in his glass.

“Think you’ll be having little ones running around soon?” gaz asks, he could see the big scary ghost with a daughter or two. Simon smoothens his mask before talking.

“Maybe, me and miss talk about it sometimes but nothing ever too serious, she’d make a great mum though.” The boys love just how in love he is with you.

“Will you name one of em after me?” Johnny asks.

“Funny joke mate.” They all laugh.

“Lass we’ll take another round.” heads snap towards him.

“Johnny!” Both simon gaz exclaim their nearly 8 shots in each and a couple of other drinks the result of tonight's starting to sound like alcohol poisoning.

“What’s wrong with a little fun once in a while.”

—---------

“I miss my wife.” Simon says, eyes glossed over and a severe need to taste your mouth. 

“Will we be throwing you a bachelor party?” Simon scoffs.

“This is my bachelor party, enjoy it.” Johnny groans at his awfully boring best lad.

“I have to take a piss be back.” Johnny says, excusing himself. Gaz and simon give each other a look knowing full well he went to the mens room less than ten minutes ago.

“What’s that about?” Gaz asks.

“Don't know but ima text the missus to come save me.” Simon says whipping out his phone instantly happier by the picture of you on his lock screen.

After sending you a quick text he agrees to one more round as Johnny rejoins, what he doesn't notice is as he tossed his head back Johnny slipped his phone into the back pockets of his jeans mistaking it for his own.

“Why do you look like that?” Gaz questions the mischievous smirk on Johnny's face.

“No reason.” 

“Oh no johnny what’d you do.'' They follow his eyeline as a woman, definitely a hooker walk from the hall where the bathrooms are definitely heading towards them. 

“Hey boys.” she says, running a hand down Simon's chest.

—----------

You’ve tried simons phone nearly six times now and nearly circled this block three times to let him know you’re here. You call once more groaning loudly as the voicemail starts once again. You search the busy street for parking, getting lucky as a car pulls out from the front of the pub.

You step out into the chilly london air not caring to pay for parking this shouldn't be long anyways. It's busier than you’d ever seen it, you wrap your arms tightly around yourself considering you're in thin pajamas, Simon emits too much heat to sleep in anything else.

Finding your way to the bar knowing where they usually sit you keep your eyes peeled for him excited to get him home and finish what he started earlier. That's until you see him. You see her first actually, snaking her hands around the back of his clothed head where yours were merely hours ago. His eyes are pointed towards her breast as she puts on quite the show, grinding slowly on his lap, flicking her tongue out onto his cloth covered ear. Simon’s hazed eyes are seeing you, like a dual reality that goes back and forth between a random woman and the woman he loves. Words are unable to leave your mouth so you stand there in utter horror until reality catches up to you.

“Simon.” your voice comes out in a whisper as the three men's heads turn towards you. The woman who looked like she’d been having a good time on Simon's lap also looks towards you, then the ring on your finger. The three of them had never become sober so fast in their lives.

“Oh god.” you feel sick, turning around quickly and bee lining for the door as your eyes tunnel vision.

“Get off me.” Simon says awfully harshly as Gaz looks disappointed towards johnny.

He’s after you in seconds, strides long and quick. You're at an arm's length when he tries to pull you back but misses by a thread. Times moving in slow motion for the both of you and this pub has never been so large.

“Wait, I swear that wasn't what it looked like.” His deep and loud voice causes the other patrons to look your way. Gaz and Johnny are steps behind him as he rushes as quickly as he can.

When the outside hits you, so do the tears. Your hand grips weakly at the spot of your shirt above your heart. It feels like the wind has been knocked from you and the world is crumbling around you. 

“Love i swear-” you turn around quickly slapping him across the face. It stuns you but not him; he simply looks back towards you.

“Deserved that.” 

“Lass it was a dumb joke i thought id-” 

“You were supposed to have my back, you guys are like my brothers, is this how it is everytime you come out?” a sob racks through you as they all visibly watch your heart break.

“It's not like that.” Simon tries to calmly explain.

“I'm leaving.” you say slowly walking backwards towards your car getting in quickly and locking the doors before your fiance can try the handle.

“Love, just listen to me i didn't know what was going on.” he shouts through the window as you start pulling out and speeding off as soon as possible.

“I’ll fucking kill you.” he yells to johnny.

“I don't know what I was thinking.” he admits as his drunk actions hit his sober self.

“You need to get a ride home now.” gaz says walking into the street to hail down an overly expensive taxi.

Simon gets in it immediately telling the man your address and slipping him a few extra hundred for speed. His breath is rapid matching the racing pace of his heart. The two other men watch as he leaves.

“You’re so fucked mate.” Gaz says to an already guilty looking johnny.

—--------------------

Simon nearly tears off the door handle as he exits the car almost two homes ahead and runs there instead. He’s fumbling keys until he realizes you’ve left the door unlocked. Instantly he's searching for you, panicked and in a hurry to soothe your aching heart.

He goes to reach for your shut bedroom door only to realize it's locked. He knocks rapidly once then twice.

“Love let me explain. I swear it's not what it looked like.” he leans his head against the door as you silently cry on the other side.

“Don’t do this to yourself.” wrong choice of words but he meant well.

Before he knows it you're throwing the door open.

“To myself!” you yell as loudly as you can, shoving your hands into his solid chest.

“That's not what I meant.” he says, removing the mask.

“We’re engaged Simon, we were going to get married in a few months.” you cry turning around trying to slam the door on him.

“Were ? No, let me explain.” he says, catching it with the toe of his boot.

“I don't want to hear it, go tell it to whoever that woman was.” you’re infuriating he wants to scream but he knows all hell would break loose had he caught you in the same position.

“Johnny had hired her, I had no idea.” he gets out as quickly as possible.

“And you let her dance and lick on you and hold you the way I hold you.” the disgust on your face as you look at him cuts deeper than any knife.

“I was drunk.” he even thinks that sounds disgusting.

“Cheap fucking excuse.” you say going into your closet grabbing all your clothes and throwing it onto the bed.

“What’re you doing?” it's hushed and laced with panic.

“Leaving.” 

“Like hell you are.” he says quickly, fighting to pull what's in your hands out of them. You’re unwilling to give up at first, grip tighter than ever but he would always win. You fall to the ground and let go. Crying from hurt and frustration. He drops to his knees to meet you on the floor.

He scoops you into his chest as closely as possible, it hurts that you don’t clutch onto him like you normally would. You Are stiff in his arms so visibly uncomfortable. He wants to cry too, he knew he shouldn’t have gone out there's no need when your heart is at home.

“Let go of me.” you say weakly.

“Lets talk.” he says, loosening his grip on you watching as you scurry backwards.

“Nothing you say can make this better.” you admit leaning your head against the wall behind you.

“It wasn't my idea or choice, my love I was wasted.”

“I was waiting outside for you, calling over and over again but you were just too busy being entertained by another woman, how fucking dare you.” you say quietly but firmly.

“I know I fucked up but we cant throw this away just cause one mishap.” he says trying to inch closer to you.

“I would’ve never done that to you.” you say as tears stream smoothly down your reddened cheeks.

“I know.” how does one forgive an action like this he wonders.

“Please get out.” you say through stuttered breaths.

“Love-” 

“Simon, get out or I'll leave.” He rises to his feet in an instance beginning to very slowly make his ways towards the door.

“Hey simon.” you say and his name sounds so rare on your tongue since you've met him he's always been riley or love.

“Yeah.” he says, approaching you crouching down slightly. You reach out, grabbing his hand and placing something into his palm before closing it.

Simon slowly opens his hands fearing what he already knows is there and utterly cringes inside when he sees your ring.

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

excited but ready for a little criticism, be easy on me I'm barley getting familiar with the character.

Hope you guys thoroughly enjoyed mwah!

[xxblairexxss]

Belief

Pairing : dad!Charles Leclerc x mom!reader

Theme : Angst, fluff

Still felt like something’s missing with this one 😩

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

“Y/N, listen–“

“No, Charles, I’m done.” You brushed past him with your duffel bag that you had prepared days before because you knew he would still keep on denying everything.

“What do you mean you’re done? Y/N, please listen to me.”

“Let’s go, baby.” Taking your baby girl’s hand, you pulled her up to her feet as she threw her toys on the floor.

“Where are you going? Y/N, you can’t do this to me.

“I’m going home. I’m not coming back until you set your priority straight.” You took little steps while your daughter trailed after you, constantly checking back, wondering why her daddy is not coming along.

“I told you she’s a new physiotherapist ! Please, don’t do this.”

“Physiotherapist won’t be in your room all cuddled up like that! You think I’m a fool?” You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, eyes still looking at your husband in disbelief as you felt every trust you had for him far gone.

“I don’t know what the news said but those didn’t happen, baby–“

“Don’t call me that.”

He breathed in, hand on his forehead as he squeezed his eyes shut and took a step back. “Y/N, none of the things happened. Yes, she was in my room but nothing happened. You need to trust me!”

“Dada not come?” Your daughter asked as she stood up after you put on her shoes. Her little hand goes back into yours.

“Dada’s not coming, sweetheart. Dada has work.” You tugged on her little hands and turned around to leave but she refused to follow, pulling you back the the little force she had.

“But I want dada.” She yanked her hand from your grip and ran back to hug Charles’s legs. “Dada follow?”

Charles then crouched down and gave his little girl a kiss on her forehead. “Dada can’t come, princess. Take care of mommy for dada, alright?” His arm went around her little frame when the circled her arms around his neck, hugging him.

“See you later, dada!”

“Y/N.” The soft tone of his voice nearly knocked down the wall that you were trying to build in your heart. When you turned around, you saw he took few steps closer to plant a kiss on your forehead, mumbling the words “I love you” as he pulled away. Both you and Charles had made a promise on the early stage of your dating life that both of you would never go a day without an I love you because tomorrow wasn’t confirmed, regardless of how bad the arguments would be. “And I’m sorry…”

You didn’t look at him when you pulled away to make your way to your car. You didn’t want to ignore the words, but you also didn’t want to say it back so you just mumbled the words back under your breath. Your little girl had her half body turned sideways jusy so she could kept on waving to her dad, unconcerned with the problems going on.

If it wasn’t for the constant tagging, you would have been left in the dark. Checking your social media had always been apart of your wind down activity but you weren’t expecting to have over 100+ notifications one night, people tagging you on a screenshot of news article about your husband exposed to be having a short “intimate break” with a new woman. The articles were supported heavily with a blurry picture of your husband and the woman walking out of the driver’s room after which was what they assumed as a quickie before the race in Hungary. People started making fun of your marriage, saying that you tricked Charles into one by getting pregnant on purpose or you got pregnant as soon after the wedding because you wanted to secure the bag and some of them even assume Charles was forced to stay in the marriage not because of love but because of the child and his image.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

Though you had been living separately for nearly a month, Charles would always came by. Sometimes it would a short 5 minutes where he just dropped by to give his little daughter a new toy or just a short cuddling session. You felt guilty of course, because your daughter had always been daddy’s girl but you couldn’t be in the same house with him without thinking about the pictures so you had to continuously tell her that Charles was busy with his fast car.

“Don’t go!” Your daughter cried out and tugged on her dad’s hand, dragging him back into the living room. “Dada can’t go!”

“I need to go, princess.” He drew his lips back, squatting down to level his face with hers. “We spent half a day together, didn’t we?” His arm was stretched out again as she kept on trying to pull him back.

“Can dada stay?”

He looked up and caught your eyes on him with your arms folded. “I’m not sure mommy wants that. Why don’t you go and ask mommy?”

“Can dada stay tonight, mommy? Please please!” She ran to hug your legs and pulled on your shirt to get your attention.

“Sleep on the couch. I’ll get a blanket for you.” You left those two together shrieking with laughters and came back with blanket to find both of them cuddling on the couch. “Are you gonna sleep with dada on the couch tonight?”

“Yes! Mommy too?” She scooted aside and pat on the empty space. “Mommy too!”

“Mommy will sleep in the room, okay?” You bended down to peck on her forehead and looked at Charles who has been staring at you. “Make sure she sleeps by 9.”

“Thank you.” He took your hand and you snatched it back before matching to your room.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

“Baby, what are you doing with my phone?”

You had just done putting on your skincare and walked out of the bathroom to see your little girl looking sullen as she was holding your phone. “No answer?” She raised the phone up as it shook a little from the unbalanced weight between the phone and her little grip.

“Answer? Who are you calling?”

“Y/N, is there–“

“Hi dada!”

“oh, hi, princess!”

You froze when you heard Charles’s voice. When did she even learn how to call someone or more specifically, her own dad.

“Dada! Hello!”

“Hi, I miss you so much.”

Your daughter squealed and clapped her hands, bringing the phone that was larger than her hand closer to her mouth. “Miss you too!”

“Where’s mommy? Is mommy okay?”

Your lips were pressed into a thin line. Sure, you can still acted all fine in front of your daughter but that doesn’t mean you could play pretend with your feelings. I miss you, Charles.

“Mommy is okay. Mommy was putting cream on face.”

“Oh, yeah? Mommy always takes a long time in front of the mirror, right princess?”

“Yeah, very long time! Mommy always goes dab dab.”

You heard him chuckle and continued the conversations until he had to end the call. “Princess, dada has to go. Listen to mommy and be a good girl. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Bye, dada! I love you.”

“Bye, princess. Tell mommy I said I love you.”

She stood up and ran to you, handing you back the phone with the brightest smile, which had everything to do with the little time with her dad.

“Dada said I love you mommy!”

“I love you too.” She giggled in your arms as you poked on her waist. “Who taught you how to call dada, hm?”

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

You were sitting at the living room, leaving Charles and your daughter having their own time. Faint giggles and maffles could be heard filling the silence.

“Girl secured the bag but still got cheated on.”

“Proof that a child is not enough to make a man loyal. Good try, girl.”

Though it had been more than a month since what happened, your social media was still full of unpleasant comments. Your life had been in a downward spiral, even more when Ferrari’s official account had posted a few photos from the weekend and you saw the woman who was in the picture with Charles months ago in the background of the photos. The comments were quick to jump into their own assumptions and speculations, making you felt more oppressed within every minute you spent on your phone.

“Where’s she?” You asked when you saw Charles in the living room, no longer hearing her squeals and laughters. Your phone was no longer in your hand as you turned it off. Charles had took a seat on the couch, afar from you since you kept on shutting him out so he just knew you wouldn’t want him close to you this time as well.

“She’s asleep.” He grabbed your hand as you were walking trying to walk pass him to get yourself a drink. “Bab– Y/N, can we talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Charles.”

“You can’t keep on doing this.” He was now standing only a step away. “I miss you. I don’t want to come home to an empty house. Please, tell me what you want me to do.” His fingers softly traced your cheek, making your heart beat faster, yearning for more of his touch. “I’ll fix the mess. I’ll speak up about this, let the news clear out my name, your name. I need you, Y/N, please.”

You wanted to give in. You were so close to give into his wishes, his plead but you couldn’t. Never once in your life would you imagine yourself to be in a situation where your husband got tangled up with another woman that people started making fun of your innocent child.

“You need to leave.” You paced back, feeling his touch leaving an imprint on your skin.

“Y/N,”

“Leave, please. I’m not doing this tonight.”

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

The scream of your daughter took up the house as she saw Charles walked through the door. You had told Charles you wanted to do a small birthday for her and he had set everything up that you didn’t have to lift a finger. A day before a group of people came by to start putting on balloons and ribbons in your house. The food and drinks started ti arrive a few hours ago so you were only left with a few task when you had to dress her up and prepare a few starter and dessert. The guests were not a lot. You had invited your friends, their kids, family members and of course, Charles.

“Hey, princess! Happy birthday!”

Charles immediately picked her up and attacked her chubby cheeks with kisses, causing her to squirm while giggling. “You are so pretty, princess. Did you wear mommy’s lipstick?” He laughed and wiped the smudge at the ends of her lips.

“I stole mommy’s lipstick!”

“Knew it! You should have asked mommy to help put it on you. Where’s mommy?” She had ran to join her friends back to the small backyard garden, leaving Charles’s question left unanswered as he ambled to the kitchen to see you were preparing a cheese board for the guests.

“Do you need help?

“Oh, yeah. Can you help me open the pack of crackers and just plate it nicely on this serving board? You handed him the board to which he took it and started opening crackers that you had placed on the kitchen counter while you went back to cutting the cheese.

Both of you were doing things in silence so you didn’t bother to check up on him as you only asked his help for the simplest task ever. One that even your daughter could do.

You had realised it wasn’t as simple as you thought it was when you looked at the board which was supposed to be filled with crackers, were only filled with a few ones while the rest went into his mouth.

“Charles!” Charles’s hand stop moving as he looked at you. “I asked you to put them on the board, not eat them!”

“It’s addictive. Give it a try.” He offered you one and you took it, chuckling as you chew. “Right? I told you! It’s tasteless but it’s good. Do you want more?”

He moved closer to put the cracker to your mouth when you declined, making you laugh as you tried to move your face away. “It’s not that good. I don’t want it!”

He cackled along, arm finding its way on your waist as he pulled you close. “God, I missed you so much.”

“Hello?”

“Yeah–” The smile on your face ceased as your eyes landed on the owner of the voice, the same woman who was caught in a gossip with the guy standing in front of you. “Oh, hi.”

“Y/N, this is Leah. She’s–“ Charles tried to grab your arm as you tried to walk out of the kitchen. “Baby, wait–“

“I need to check on my daughter.”

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

“Isn’t that the girl that was in the picture? Did you invite her?”

The drink in your hand tasted somewhat bitter. “No, she came with Charles.” You replied, eyes locked on your daughter as she played with her dad and Leah in the backyard.

“Is he trying to introduce you to his new girlfriend?”

“I don’t know.” You stretched out your arms as your little girl came running to you. “Did you have fun with dada?”

“Yes! Can mommy play too?” She jumped and tugged on your finger to get you off the couch. “Please please!”

“Alright, alright. I’m coming.” You patted her head, giving your friends a glance as you trailed after her to the backyard where Charles was on the grass, joining by your daughter after.

“Dada, let mommy be the tagged!”

“You asked me to join you only for you to gang up with dada? Come here!” You gasped dramatically and chased after her while she waddled to the end of the backyard. “Oh, tag.” Charles had just stood on his feet and stopped by your side as he saw you focusing on the little girl when you tapped on his arm.

“Oh, come on! Really? I thought you were chasing after her.” Charles groaned. He barely had a 5 minutes break and thought you were chasing after the little one instead of him, which was why he wasn’t running away.

“I can’t catch her!”

“Okay, then I’ll just tag you back.” He poked on your cheek, laughing when you clicked on your tongue, thing that you always do when you get annoyed.

“Charles, can I borrow you for a second?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back.” He left your side when Leah called out for him, both of them seemed to be engrossed in a discussion. Leaving you alone while your daughter had found her way back into her group of friends. You saw your friends’ sympathetic eyes on you as they called you out to join them back.

You felt pathetic.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

For the rest of the birthday party, you tried to ignore Charles and his partner though you could feel his eyes on you the whole time. Every time you caught a glance of both of them, exchanging conversations and smiles while she kept on showing something on her phone, tears would welled up in your eyes and you couldn’t cry, not today. Today isn’t about you.

“Baby, can you please stop ignoring me?”

You bumped into Charles as you tried to head to to kitchen and he had gripped on your arm, forcing you to stay as you were trying to get away from Charles again when the front door opened as you saw a man with 2 kids around your daughter’s age walked in with a birthday present nicely wrapped in his hand.

“Happy birthday!” The kids shrieked and handed the birthday present to your daughter as they ran to join the kids outside.

“There you are! What took you so long?” Leah exclaimed as she pulled the man into a hug. “Y/N, this is my husband and my kids. I hope you don’t mind three extra guests?”

“No, not at all.” A soft smiled creeped in as a mask to hide your true feelings before you made your way into your room with Charles chasing after you.

You felt so dumb. First you had to see your husband’s new “girlfriend” then having to constantly see your husband played with your kid while his new girl a step away as she laughed and smiled along, one when your husband left your side in a blink the second Leah called out for him, only to find out that all of that was just an act and that she actually had a husband and kids. You felt your throat tighten up as you breathed in a short intake. “Did you try to make me look like a fool because you aced it.”

“No, that’s– no, not at all. Y/N–“

“I feel so woeful and pathetic. If this– if this is your payback because I took your daughter away, I’m sorry.” You sobbed into the palm of your hands.

“Baby, no. No, that– that’s not it. You got the wrong idea. I brought her along because I had a scheduled medical checkup and she had to tag along. I thought she could be the one to explain to you what actually happened since you refused to listen to my explanation.” Your trembling hand in now in his while he cupped his free hand on your left cheek, thumb wiped off the fresh tears that rolled down you cheeks. It had been a week since the last time he touched you, month since he hugged you and there was a hole in his heart from your absence. You didn’t reject him, not this time so he continued. “Yes, she was in the room with me but I was asleep and she was looking for my stuff. Something that she wanted to borrow. We didn’t cuddle or do anything at all. Not like how the news portrayed. She came in with Joris because he had the access to my room but they didn’t catch that moment so it just seemed like there was only both of us.”

Your tongue was tied, your head was in a shamble. You didn’t know know what to do, what to react, what to respond. If what he was saying was true, then why did he seemed so close with her. Why would he go to his daughter’s birthday party with her. Why would he left you just because she called out for him.

“You know how much I love you, Y/N. I would never do anything that would break your trust on me. I was asleep. I would have asked Joris to not allow her inside my room if I was awake. I didn’t know there were pictures taken.”

“I don’t know, Charles. I’m just– “ You tilted you head away as you felt your throat closing up. “Everything I saw earlier didn’t make it seemed as if nothing happened between you guys.”

“What did you see?” He leaned in, tugging on your hand in his just so you would look back at him. “Tell me, baby, what did you see?”

“You came to the birthday party with her looking like a happy couple as if you tried to shove that in my face.”

“We didn’t. We didn’t come together, Y/N. She drove her own car but we came from the same place, remember? Her husband wanted to buy a last minute birthday gift, just before they came here so she had to ask for my opinion since they didn’t know what they should give.” You felt his thumb kept on stroking the back of your hand, he wanted to pull you in his embrace but he couldn’t afford getting rejected again. He didn’t know if you wanted him to touch you but grateful enough that you didn’t retract your hand away so he wouldn’t ask for more if your weren’t comfortable just yet.

“I am such a fool…” Your voice trailed off with tears streaming down your face.

“No, you are not a fool. You needed reassurance which I failed to give.” Charles then surrendered to his own wish and eventually engulfed you in his arms. “Is this okay? Can I hug you?” He didn’t get your response but he felt your arms on his back, returning the hug.

“I’m sorry…” You tilted your head to look at him with swollen eyes.

“We are both at fault here.” He drew in his arms tighter around your frame. “Will you come back to me? Come back home?”

“Do you still want me back?”

“I will always want you back, baby. Always.” He pulled away and pecked on your cheek, chuckling when you started having hiccups from crying too much.

“Dada?”

He pulled away and turned to look at his little girl walked in with a lollipop in her hand. You stayed behind Charles so you could pat your eyes dry before she noticed.

“Is mommy okay?” She slanted her body to peek on you as Charles continued to cover you with his back.

“Mommy’s fine, princess. Mommy’s eyes just hurt a little.”

“Give mommy this!” She offered Charles her lollipop, making both of you laughed.

“Charles took the lollipop and extended it to you. “Would you like a lollipop, baby?”

✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj

if your usernames were crossed meaning I can’t tag you 😭 let me know if you would like to be removed or added to the taglist! or if I missed anyone!

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Butter

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Main Masterlist }

Rating: None

Summary: What if Joel doesn't forget to buy himself a cake for his birthday? But by the time he remembers, all the bakeries in his neighbourhood are closed - except yours.

Warnings: No outbreak AU, pure fluff, mentions of baking and food, meet cute, some sexual tension but very mild stuff compared to my other fics, single dad!Joel being a sexy menace, reader has a nickname related to her job, reader has an accent similar to Joel, very lightly edited, not my best work, but I'm in my writing for fun era 💁🏻‍♀️

Word count: 3.6k

Notes: It's here! This was an exercise in speed writing, and just putting words to paper without overthinking anything. I really enjoyed writing this sweet little piece, this is dedicated to @psychedelic-ink who has been the biggest cheerleader for this idea since day one. Happy birthday to our favourite single dad who never lived through a cordyceps outbreak ❤️

September 26, 2003 was supposed to be a good day.

It’s Friday, after all. Not that the weekend is relevant to you anymore, with Saturdays and Sundays being the busiest days for business. But you have a date for once tonight, and you’re determined to enjoy it.

If you can get the goddamn security shutter to close, that is.

Standing on your tiptoes, you pull futilely at the bottom of the metal shutter with both hands, but it refuses to budge. You lament the sweat seeping through the fabric of the nice dress you changed into, the hem reaching almost indecent heights on the back of your thighs where it’s climbed up. And you don’t have to look at your reflection to know that stress has already smudged the edges of the eyeliner you hurriedly painted on as soon as you got the last customer out the door.

You can be forgiven for not noticing the wash of yellow headlights over the windows of the shop front and the sound of rolling tyres as a truck pulls up on the curb outside the bakery, until a gravelly voice pipes up behind you alongside hurried footsteps.

‘Ma’am, please tell me you’re still open.’

You tap on the ‘Closed’ sign through the window without turning around, determined to wrangle the shutter into submission. ‘Bad luck buddy, come back tomorrow. We open at nine sharp.’

‘No I can’t, I’m so sorry, but I need a cake now.’

Curiosity turns your head, and over your shoulder, you find a broad-shouldered man in a dark tshirt and casual jeans standing a respectful four paces away. Under eyebrows sloping downwards in a pleading angle that matches the slant of his moustache, his warm and imploring eyes are on you.

‘I’m sorry, sir, but I really need to go,’ you say. ‘Can you give me a hand?’

‘Look, I’ll do you one better. I’ll fix the shutter for you for free - if you sell me a cake.’

You purse your lips, the prospect of saving on what looks like an inevitable repair bill tempting. ‘You can fix it?’

‘I’m a contractor,’ he replies, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a battered looking wallet. ‘Here’s my card, if you think I’m bluffin’.’

Miller & Associates is printed in bold across the top, and underneath, is presumably his name and cell number. Glancing up at him, you say, ‘Look, Mr. Miller, I really want to help, but I’m late for a date, and I’m all sold out of cakes today -’

‘I’ll take anything you got. Cupcakes, cookies, whatever you have left,’ he cuts in, then apologises in quick succession, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. ‘I’m sorry to be so pushy - I’m not, usually - but I promised my daughter I’d bring something home, and by the time I remembered, this is the only place I could think of. Please.’

You feel the exact moment your resolve crack, and then fold like a goddamn lawn chair. What can you say, this contractor really knows how to work those puppy eyes, and you can never say no to a man who refuses to let their kid down. 

Especially when the man looks like this.

Shooting off a text to your date to push back your dinner plans, you nod towards the door. ‘Alright. C’mon in, Mr. Miller.’

‘Nice place you got here,’ he remarks politely, hovering by the entrance as the fluorescent lights flicker on, his manners impeccably southern. 

‘You don’t have to flatter me, I’ve already let you in,’ you joke, lips quirking at the way he flusters. ‘But I appreciate it. You been here before?’

When he smiles, you notice the corners of his eyes crinkle charmingly. ‘No, but I know I’ll be comin’ back.’

‘I wasn’t lying when I said I was out of ready-made cakes,’ you tell him, holding the door open to the kitchen so he can come in after you. ‘But I have some cake layers in the fridge so I can put together something fairly quickly.’

He ducks his head in a manner that tells you he’s not used to demanding things, and protests, ‘I don’t want to put you out. I meant it, if you just have some cupcakes or somethin’ -’

‘Listen, you promised your daughter a cake, didn’t you?’ you interrupt.

He shrugs. ‘Well, yeah I did -’

‘I’m guessin’ it’s for a birthday?’

He nods sheepishly. ‘It is.’

‘Well, as a baker, ‘mfraid I can’t let a cakeless birthday happen on my watch, Mr. Miller,’ you insist, opening the fridge door with a flourish. ‘Let’s see what we have here. Cake for three, I assume?’

‘Two, actually.’

Hopefully you’re as discreet as you think you are when your eyes drop to his left hand - his fourth finger is conspicuously ringless.

Interesting.

You hum, considering the mismatched options in your inventory. ‘It’s gonna be a bit of a Frankenstein’s monster of a cake, if you don’t mind. How does chocolate and vanilla layers with cookies and cream frosting sound?’

‘Sounds perfect,’ he answers without skipping a beat. ‘Thank you, ma’am.’

You shake your head, hands full of cake rounds wrapped in cling film as you nudge the fridge close. ‘Please, call me Bri, Mr. Miller.’

‘And you can call me Joel,’ he says in return. ‘Is Bri short for somethin’?’

Laying the cakes on the work surface, you reply, ‘Yeah, Bri for brioche, like the bread. It's a silly nickname.’

The single dad surprises you with a low whistle. ‘Can’t say I saw that comin’.’

You grin. ‘You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Joel.’

You don’t often have an audience while baking, and you find yourself talking Joel through the steps while you prep everything for assembly.

Swirling a spatula through the tub of buttercream you made earlier that day, you explain, ‘I just need to whip up some of this frosting so that it’s nice and soft for putting the cake together. You wanna help me break up some Oreos so we can make it cookies and cream?’

‘I’m all yours, chef,’ he says, one corner of his mouth curling into a teasing smile that has no business warming the apples of your cheek as it does. ‘Just tell me what to do.’

While your Kitchenaid whirrs to life, whipping air into the buttercream, Joel wields a rolling pin, smashing a generous helping of Oreos into crumbs in a Ziplock bag. The almost exaggerated care with which he moves speaks to inexperience in the kitchen, and you muse that either his kid makes up for it in that department, or they live off takeout.

Eventually, he picks up the bag and looks at you in a question. ‘I think I’m done?’

You smile and tap the lip of the mixing bowl. ‘That’s perfect. Why don’t you tip in the crumbs straight in here?’

Before you can step back to allow him space, Joel’s taken two strides towards you, and his arm brushes your shoulder when he lifts the bag and tilts the contents into the frosting. He’s warm and solid, and damnit, he smells good - like sawdust and sweat.

The thought comes to you unbidden - what a man.

There’s a lull, and only when you feel the weight of eyes on you do you realise that you missed his question.

‘Did you say somethin'?’ you squeak, embarrassed.

‘I said, is this ok?’ he repeats, nodding at the mixing bowl.

You nearly stumble over your words. ‘Yes, yes it’s perfect.’

He watches you closely, a touch of concern in his brown eyes. ‘You ok there, honey?’

‘Yup,’ you chirp, far too cheerfully. ‘Just need to mix it all up now -’

If you had your wits about you, you would stir in the crumbs first and set the machine on low. But this man somehow stole said wits by sheer proximity to you, and you accidentally start the Kitchenaid on high, an indignant yelp escaping you when Oreo dust flies aggressively out of the bowl along with a splatter of white buttercream that lands squarely on the front of your dark knit dress.

‘Oh shit!’ you cry out, frantically turning off the mixer. ‘Shit shit shit!’

Over your panicked mantra, Joel is calmness itself. ‘Hang on, honey, I gotcha.’

He makes a beeline towards the sink, grabbing a tea towel and wets it under the tap with a bit of dishwashing liquid. It all screams competent single dad, and you find yourself staring at his unfairly large hand, mapped with thick veins, holding out the damp towel for you to take.

‘Thanks,’ you stutter self-consciously, the tips of your ears hot while swiping at the stain. ‘That was a rookie mistake. I promise I’m actually a good baker.’

He gives you a wink to put you at ease. ‘Don’t worry, I believe you.’

Starting over, the mixer hums as it gently incorporates the Oreos until the buttercream is a speckled grey and doubled in volume. ‘Looks like it’s ready. You wanna taste, Joel?’

‘Sure,’ he says. ‘D’ya have a spoon or somethin’ for me?’

‘You can use your fingers,’ you reply, and it's too late to take it back.

You feel the back of your neck heating up when he shoots you a meaningful look, just a touch of mischief in the tilt of his lips. 

‘Can I, now?’ he teases.

You try a nonchalant shrug that probably comes off as painfully awkward. ‘This batch is just for you, I won’t tell the health inspector if you don’t.’

Joel chuckles, his strong shoulders quaking. And so you watch, shamelessly, as he raises his right hand, index and middle fingers at the ready, before diving into the metal bowl, scooping up a generous dollop of buttercream. There’s a peek of his pink tongue when his plush lips part, and then he sucks his fingers into his mouth with a gratuitously loud moan, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

When he turns to you with a pained expression on his face, maintaining eye contact all the while licking an errant streak of frosting off the side of his middle finger, you gape at him for a whole five seconds before you manage to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth.

‘Good?’ you barely manage to squeak.

‘You betcha, honey,’ he declares, then adds, ‘Mind if I double dip?’

He doesn’t mean anything by it, you know it, but a hot flush runs through your body and you swallow thickly. ‘You can do whatever you want, cowboy.’

You don’t think you’re imagining the wicked glint in his answering stare - you’re getting yourself into trouble, and don’t you know it. 

Clearing your throat, you attempt to thwart your mind's dangerous descent into the gutter by changing the subject. ‘So, I can do somethin’ really snazzy that I think your daughter would like - do you know what a piñata cake is?’

He shakes his head. ‘Sounds dangerous.’

‘Hardly,’ you chuckle. ‘It’s a cake filled with sprinkles, so when you cut into it, it’s a sprinkles surprise!’

He lets out a playful sigh of relief. ‘As long as there’s no whackin’ involved, it’s good by me.’

You gesture at him to follow you across the room. ‘And here’s the fun part - you get to choose the sprinkles.’

Joel whistles at the reveal of your compulsively organised sprinkles cabinet, each shelf sorted by colour, shape and size. He quips, ‘Is this what the inside of your brain looks like, honey?’

You grin. ‘Pretty much. What’s your daughter’s name?’

‘Sarah.’

‘What colour does Sarah like?’

‘Any and all shades of pink.’

‘I can work with that.’

Now that everything is ready and waiting on the work surface, you pull out a lazy Susan and plonk a cake board on top of it, dusting your hands dramatically. ‘Alright, Joel. Ready for the magic to happen?’

Making himself comfortable next to you, he leans on his elbows, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the way his tshirt stretches and strains over his back. ‘Go ahead, I’m ready to be impressed, honey.’

Filling a piping bag full of the cookies and cream buttercream, you ask, ‘You wanna get your hands dirty?’

He raises his palms in surrender. ‘I’ll leave it to you, I don’t want to make you any more late for your date.’

You’re used to working with much bigger cakes, so this one doesn’t take you long. With a cookie cutter, you carve out a small circle from each cake round, then you stack and fill the layers with buttercream. After loading the shaft in the middle with all manner of pink sprinkles, you stopper the top with the cake cut-outs.

‘How old is Sarah turning today?’ you ask conversationally while you spin the cake around, smoothing on the crumb coat.

Joel looks up, surprised. ‘Oh, it’s my birthday today, not hers. ‘

‘Wait, what?’ you cry, throwing your hands up. ‘I made this cake with Sarah in mind - it will literally be vomiting pink sprinkles!’

‘I’m a girl dad. I like pink,’ shrugs Joel easily.

You huff, using an icing smoother to make sure the buttercream is even all over the cake. ‘I would pop the cake into the freezer to firm up before adding a final layer of frosting if I had the time, but this will have to do.’

‘It looks great,’ Joel assures you as you put the finishing touches to the cake, with buttercream swirls all around the top and a final baptism of sprinkles.

‘There, all done. Lemme box it up for you and this bad boy is ready to go.’

‘Amazin’, thank you so much,’ he grins. ‘Please, lemme do the washin’ up while you’re at it.’

‘Oh, Joel, you can’t,’ you protest, but he’s already grabbed the mixing bowl and all the bits and bobs stained with buttercream. ‘You’re the birthday boy!’

‘Least I can do,’ he shoots back over his shoulder, already halfway to the sink.

‘Well no, you promised to fix the security shutter for me, remember?’ you call after him.

‘Damn, I was hopin’ you’d forgotten about that.’

Joel cleans up with a practised air, humming under his breath as he waits for the water to heat up and the soap to lather. You watch him from the corner of your eye while you secure the cake inside the box, throwing in a birthday candle for good measure. You’ve just tied a nice ribbon around the cardboard box when he puts away everything in the drying rack and wipes his hands dry.

‘Didn’t expect you to be good at that,’ you tease, moving towards the door.

‘Sexist much?’ he jokes, no real bite in his retort. Then by way of explanation, he tells you, ‘I work late, so Sarah usually cooks and I wash up afterwards.’

‘Sounds like you guys make a good team.’

Joel helps with the lights and locks the door, and you stand to one side when he grabs the security shutter and forces it into submission by brute force. You can’t help but stare when the bottom of his tshirt rides up, revealing a soft sliver of belly underneath, his biceps bulging and back rippling as the shutter is finally forced shut in a metallic ripple.

You give him a smile. ‘Well, happy birthday, Joel.’

‘Thanks again for the cake.’ He looks around, as if looking for your car, but the sidewalk is empty except for his truck. ‘How are you gettin’ to your date?’

‘I was just gonna call a taxi.’

‘No, you ain’t,’ he nods towards his ride. ‘C’mon, I’ll give you a lift.’

‘Oh, no, it’s late, and you should be getting back to Sarah -’

‘I spoiled your date, so please, let me,’ he insists, holding the door open on the passenger side. Hop in.’

Joel takes the cake off your hands and puts it in the backseat carefully, putting the seat belt over it while you climb in. Glancing over your shoulder, you see toolboxes and newspapers on the floor, and it smells like paint and wood dust.

‘Sorry it’s a bit messy, occupational hazard,’ he apologises as he straps himself in. ‘So, where are we goin’?’

‘Do you know the steakhouse on Third Street?’

‘Vaguely,’ he replies, pulling smoothly away from the curb. ‘It sounds fancy.’

‘You been?’

‘Nope, I barely have time to go anywhere nowadays. It seems like I’m only ever in bed, or at work, or in my truck.’

You turn to smile at him, admiring the way his his thick fingers around the top of the steering wheel, making it look so small. ‘I feel you. Small business owner, am I right?’

‘I hear ya,’ he shoots you a smile. ‘So - what’s the deal with tonight? First date?’

‘Fourth, actually.’

He wriggles his eyebrows suggestively. ‘Fourth date? You know what happens on a fourth date, honey.’

‘I don’t, actually. Tell me, what happens on a fourth date?’

He blows out his cheeks, and admits, ‘Honestly, I can’t tell ya. I haven’t been on a fourth date since 1991.’

You burst into laughter at his unexpected answer. ‘You’re such a dork, Joel Miller.’

When the truck rumbles to a stop outside the steakhouse ten minutes later, he looks at his watch and announces, ‘Here we are, only fifteen minutes late.’ Squinting through the windshield, he points at a man smoking outside, an impatient frown on his face. ‘That him?’

‘Yeah, that’s him,’ you nod, but you stay put in your seat, in no hurry to make a move.

Joel nods, tapping his tidily trimmed nails on the steering wheel. ‘So I’ll swing ‘round tomorrow after work with my toolbelt? ‘Round six thirty?’

‘A toolbelt? What a sight to look forward to,’ you rib, slowly reaching for the seatbelt and unbuckling it.

‘Hell yeah, it’s got a special clip for my Nokia and all,’ he adds mischievously.

'You must fend off the ladies by the dozen,' you tease.

'Daily,' he answers without skipping a beat.

You probably shouldn’t have, especially not with the guy who you’re supposed to be on a date with glaring daggers at you through the windshield. But there’s something cackling in the air between you and this man you just met not an hour ago, and the way the streetlight filters through the window, backlighting his messy curls and scraggly beard, that has you throwing caution to the proverbial wind.

Impulsively, you lean across the gear shift, your left hand finding purchase on his knee before pressing your lips to the side of his whiskered jaw, your kiss fitting right into that little heart-shaped patch on his beard. 

You’re not sure who’s more taken aback, but you don’t have time to find out. 

‘Happy birthday, Joel Miller.’

He smiles after you as you hop out of his truck.

You’ve just sold your last cupcake of the day when the bell over the bakery door rings. And sure enough, it’s Joel Miller crossing the threshold, right on the dot at six thirty.

‘Hey, Bri,’ he waves, hovering half-in and half-out of the shop, a slight awkwardness having set in overnight.

But it's ok, you're happy to pick up where you left off. Putting your hands on your waist and a cheeky grin, you quip, ‘Wow, you weren’t kidding about that toolbelt, huh?’

Your chest swells as you watch him thaw with an easy smile, and he banters back, ‘I’m a man of my word, honey. You ok with me gettin’ to work now?’

‘Yes, thank you. I’ll be cleanin’ up back in the kitchen, I’ll join you when I’m done.’

Joel shoots you a thumbs up. ‘Great. I’ll grab the ladder and get right to it.’

When you emerge fifteen minutes later, he’s on the fourth rung of the ladder, tinkering the rolling mechanism with a screwdriver and a studious frown on his brow. He looks like he’s wearing the same thing as yesterday - you can believe that he’s a man who buys the same tshirt in bulk - and he smiles at you when you duck out of the shop.

‘Did Sarah like the cake?’ you ask in casual conversation.

‘She went nuts over the piñata surprise,’ he replies. ‘And the cake was delicious, there were hardly any crumbs left when we were done with it. She says we’re definitely ordering a cake from you for her birthday.’

‘I like the sound of that.’

‘How was your evening?’ he asks, glancing down at you from his perch. ‘Did you find out what happens on a fourth date?’

You let out a dry laugh. ‘Yeah, I did, actually. He dumped me.’

Joel freezes, a scowl darkening his countenance. ‘Oh shit, what? Why?’

You shrug, leaning your weight on the ladder as you look at the ground. ‘I mean, I did show up an hour late in some other guy’s truck. And I guess probably shouldn’t have kissed you on the cheek right in front of him.’

You startle when Joel’s fingers slip under your chin, tilting your head up towards him. ‘It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.’

‘Honestly, you don’t look that sorry, Joel Miller,’ you joke.

He cocks his head to one side. ‘Well, I can't lie, I think you deserve better than him.’

‘Do you now?’ you prompt. ‘Who do you have in mind?’

Joel peers at you from under long lashes with a half-smile that's almost shy. He dodges your question, and says instead, ‘I didn't mean to ruin your night, let me make it up to you, honey.’

‘How?’

Deftly, he climbs down the ladder, landing squarely on two booted feet, his presence comforting as he looms over you, his eyes warm. ‘Can I buy you dinner?’

‘Like - a date kind of dinner?’

‘Yeah, like a date,’ he nods.

You can’t help the dig. ‘And you were just sayin' you haven’t been on a date since...?’

He flashes you a smirk, and you shiver when his hand brushes your waist. ‘Since 1991. Tough sell, I know - but I thought I’d give it a shot.’

Running a finger along his sharp jawline, softened by the endearingly untidy beard, you have to bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from giving away too wide a grin. ‘Why, I think I have a good feelin’ about you, Joel Miller.’

Catching your wrist in his fingers, he presses a sweet kiss to your knuckles, the rough graze of his stubble chasing goosebumps across your skin as his eyes smile at you. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then, honey.’

More notes: I hope you enjoyed this sweet little oneshot 🥰 I really leaned into the fluff and I have no regrets. Comments/reblogs/asks are much appreciated as always! I don't have plans for a second part right now, but a smutty follow-up is always a possibility...

The adorable dividers are by @firefly-graphics 👩🏻‍🍳

[megalony]

Just In Time

This is an Evan Buckley imagine, based on a request by anon. I hope you will all like it, let me know what you think.

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Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: While Buck is at work during a storm, (Y/n) goes to spend the day with Athena. And subsequently ends up going into labour.

Enjoy.

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(Y/n) slumped her left arm on the kitchen counter and turned the kitchen stool to the side when she heard loud footsteps approaching. Her eyes set on her husband and she did a quick sweep up and down his frame and bit down on the corner of her lip.

"You're leaving me?" Her lips curved into a pout and her head tilted to the side, causing Evan's heart to soften yet speed up at the same time.

He jogged down the last of the stairs and advanced across the apartment towards her with his arms stretched out in front of him.

As soon as he was within reach, Evan clamped his hands down on (Y/n)'s hips and moved to stand between her legs. He felt her knees pressing into his hips and her arms looped around his torso while her chin pressed into his chest so she could look up at him.

"Sorry baby, I gotta go to work." Evan leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss as his hands gave her hips a loving squeeze.

If he had the choice, he would stay home with her. Somehow, it didn't feel the same going to work without (Y/n) being there with him.

Evan was used to his wife working alongside him. He was so used to turning to her when he had a patient that needed transporting to the hospital and Evan loved those times when he got to ride in the ambulance and see (Y/n) at work as a paramedic.

The 118 really was a family-run unit, with (Y/n) being both Bobby's daughter and Evan's wife.

But she was on maternity leave now.

"Hmm, that's not fair, leaving me all alone." (Y/n) tilted her head down so she could press her face into his shirt and breathe in his scent and cologne.

(Y/n) didn't like being home alone, she didn't know what to do with herself and if Evan wasn't here to monitor her, she seemed to end up doing a lot more than she should recently.

"Sorry baby." He pecked the top of her head and rested his chin on her head for a few moments while he grazed his fingers up and down her side. "Promise me you're not gonna go out today, there's a storm and the last thing I need is a call saying you've had an accident or got stuck in this weather."

Evan panicked, he was a worrier by heart. But he knew his wife like the back of his hand. He knew she was becoming restless and didn't know what to do with herself when the nursery was already set up and they had everything ready for when their boy arrived. He didn't want (Y/n) going out when the storm was already rolling in and making itself known. Evan couldn't deal with that kind of phone call today.

He was on a double shift, he wouldn't be home until tomorrow afternoon and he dreaded to think what (Y/n) would get up to in that time.

"We get bored-"

"And I get worried. Please?"

A groan tumbled past (Y/n)'s lips and she looked up at Evan, feeling a shiver roll down her spine when she was met with his stern expression. Her hands grazed up and down his back and she leaned back on the bar stool until she was leant against the kitchen counter.

"Can you drop me at mums then? So I don't go crazy sitting on my own in here."

She watched Evan's expression soften into a warm smile and he nodded, pecking her temple again before he looked down at his watch.

If he was leaving her, (Y/n) would rather go somewhere and be with family so she wasn't alone. And she knew Athena wasn't at work today. They could have a catch up or watch some movies and just spend the day together. It would only be two weeks until (Y/n)'s due date and then there would be a baby in the mix, stealing all the attention.

(Y/n) and Evan had only been married three months before (Y/n) announced she was pregnant. As thrilled as everyone had been, they also took it as an opportunity to tease Evan. Telling him he didn't waste much time or asking if it was a shotgun wedding. The whole team loved to wind him up, but he didn't care.

He had his girl and now they were having a baby, Evan was going to be the happiest man at the station.

"Sure. Come on then, baby."

Evan slowly walked back so he was no longer stood between her legs and he held his hands out for her. He took her hands and helped (Y/n) slide down off the kitchen stool. He turned, about to walk towards the hall but he stopped when (Y/n) latched her fingers around his wrist and gave a sharp tug.

She pulled his arm close and pressed his hand against the side of her stomach so he could feel the baby wriggling. The movement made Evan's lips quirk into a lopsided smile and he brushed his thumb across her skin, waiting for another movement or a kick in his direction.

"Someone's happy today." He murmured softly and leaned down so he could press a kiss to her stomach.

(Y/n) held onto Evan's hand and followed him into the hall and she grinned, leaning against his back and his arm as she found her shoes. Evan had recently become her leaning post when she found it harder to lean over to bend down. It was why (Y/n) had gotten a pair of flat shoes that were easy to slip on and off so she didn't have to bend or pull them on.

She slipped her phone in her bag and hooked it on her shoulder, but both hands moved to grab the cabinet in front of her and she took a sharp breath when her back twinged.

"Okay?"

"My back twinged," Her fingers dug into the cabinet and her upper body arched forward to see if it would relieve the sudden twinge in her lower spine.

Her lips curved into a tight smile when she felt Evan's hand move along her back in slow, deep circles that did something for the pain and made her feel a little better.

"Maybe it's a sign you should take it easy," Evan murmured into the top of her hair. His hand continued to move along her back and his other hand moved to hold her arm for added support. He waited patiently for (Y/n) to take a deep breath and lean off the counter again but he could see the pain flicker across her face when she straightened up.

"It's a sign your son is a menace."

"Oh, so he's mine now, not ours?"

(Y/n) ignored his comment and tilted her head back to look up at Evan with a pleading glimmer in her eyes. "Tell him to be good?" She moved Evan's hand from her back to the lower side of her stomach and she waited as Evan leaned down to hover his lips over her bump.

"Behave, mister. Or else."

***

A crack of thunder broke through the sky and rattled the windows and the patio doors until it sounded like they were going to shatter. The rain beat down on the patio outside and a steady stream trickled over the stones and down onto the grass that was going to be flooded, come tomorrow morning.

(Y/n) shuddered at the thought of going out in this weather.

Her eyes glanced over at the clock on the kitchen wall. Seven o'clock. She had been here all afternoon and thankfully, the afternoon had gone by in a flash with Athena. They ate tea together, watched some movies and went through a few magazines and sorted through some things the station had got for when the baby arrived.

(Y/n) finished making two cups of hot chocolate and held one in each hand, but her eyes focused on staring out the kitchen window when she turned around. It looked like it was midnight with how black and dead the sky looked and all the white flashes rippling across the sky. The sheets of rain pouring down from the heavens didn't look much better, either.

She took slow steps back through to the living room but ended up shuffling her feet to see if it would dull the aching in her back and her lower stomach. The baby had shifted around again and now he was weighing heavy on (Y/n)'s abdomen to the point it was hurting every now and then.

"Thank you," Athena murmured as she placed down a bag of baby clothes near the coffee table and took her seat on the sofa.

Her hand moved to (Y/n)'s lower back and she watched cautiously as (Y/n) slowly sat down with a wince. She stayed sitting upright instead of slouching back into the sofa like before to see if it would do anything to help her discomfort.

"Well, I think you'll be spending the night with me, hun."

"Is that okay?"

"Oh, it's more than okay, you keep me company and I've had my instructions from Buck. We're not to go out in this weather, he said he'd come pick you up after work. And your dad would have my head if we drove out in this storm."

Athena didn't have a problem with (Y/n) staying over, it was the reason why they had the spare room here for friends and family to stay over. Although there was a lot of things packed into the spare room. Bobby was getting ready for his first grandchild and he was already planning ahead to the weekends when he could have his grandson stay over with them.

Leaning forward, (Y/n) took a sip of her hot chocolate and looked beyond the tv at the back garden. They hadn't drawn the blinds yet as both women rather liked watching the storm take hold and seeing the rain splatter down on the glass and sprinkle across the garden.

She looked over at the tv when Athena started searching for a new movie to watch, but she had to set down her mug when her stomach clenched. Her hand drifted beneath her shirt and she covered her grimace by biting down on her bottom lip.

When the baby started wriggling and hurting like this, it was when (Y/n) wished Evan was home with her. He had a knack for distracting her or giving a massage and the baby seemed to love the sound of Evan's voice.

"You okay?"

"Hm, he keeps moving." (Y/n) straightened up to click her spine back into place. And when she noticed Athena looking at her stomach, she smiled and gently took her hand, pressing it to the base of her abdomen.

They shared a smile between them and Athena danced her fingertips along (Y/n)'s stomach for a few moments before she turned to reach for the bag she brought in. She placed it on the floor between them so they could go through the garments together and decide which ones (Y/n) wanted.

It had been lovely that from the moment they told the team, everyone was overjoyed and wanted to be involved. (Y/n) and Evan got so many baby clothes and gifts from everyone that they had items coming out their ears now.

They started going through some items and had a movie on in the background, but (Y/n) could barely pay attention to anything.

Everything hurt.

Her back was twinging and felt like each column of her spine had weights pressed down on it like the bone was about to break. Her stomach was weighing heavy and every time she felt a twinge, she was starting to feel sick.

Maybe she needed to try and relax and get comfy to see if dozing off would take away the pain. God knows she had fallen asleep during enough movie nights with Evan this last month.

She heard Athena mutter something about finding them some snacks and she nodded, forcing herself to smile as she watched Athena head towards the kitchen. But (Y/n) moved her hand back to her stomach and started making slow circles beneath her shirt to see if it would help at all.

But then she felt it. A steady trickle of water between her thighs and a very sharp, tightening pain in her pelvis.

"Mum… ooh, mum!"

"Honey, what's wrong?" Athena set down the bag of goodies on the kitchen side and rushed back into the living room, skidding on the rug on the way.

She wedged herself between the arm of the sofa and the coffee table and knelt down at (Y/n)'s side. She placed one hand on (Y/n)'s knee and the other on her back, wondering if she had suddenly got back pains. Evan mentioned earlier that she had been having pains all week but that was normal.

(Y/n) couldn't bring herself to say anything. She just looked between her parted thighs, the floor, and Athena until her stepmum suddenly got the message and realised what had happened.

Her waters had broken. The pains she had been having all day were actually contractions. She was going into labour during a storm, without Evan here by her side like he promised to be.

"Okay… this is okay, give me a minute I'll go and call Buck."

Athena wasn't stupid. This was not the weather to be driving her daughter down to the materntiy ward at the hospital. She was a good driver, she was safe, she had to be since she was a seargent in the police. But that didn't mean Athena had been trained to drive during storms. It was too dangerous and if she crashed, they might not get help in time. Evan and Bobby might not find them or know what was going on if they crashed.

Staying here and getting help to come to them was by far the better and safer option and they both silently agreed on this.

Shuffling back a little, (Y/n) slumped back into the sofa and let herself sink into the cushions. She moved both her hands to cradle her stomach and began glaring daggers into her bump towards her baby. Why was he choosing to be born now? Why did he think this was a good time? It was two weeks early, right in the middle of a storm. Without Evan.

(Y/n) was expecting to go into labour any time from next week. Evan was supposed to be on shorter shifts as of next week so if this happened and he wasn't home, he could easily find his way back to (Y/n) and be there for her.

Her eyes looked up at Athena as she stood beside the sofa, one hand on (Y/n)'s shoulder and the other holding her phone to her ear.

Evan didn't answer.

"Buck, call me back please. (Y/n)'s gone into labour." She hung up after leaving a message and tried to ring Bobby instead.

He didn't answer either.

"Bobby, honey you and Buck need to come home when you get this message. (Y/n)'s with me and she's gone into labour. Call me."

Tears began to trace down (Y/n)'s face. She was afraid of this, it was her worst nightmare coming true. She knew the job was hectic and unpredictable, but she wanted Evan to be home when she went into labour, not out at work. She didn't want to be doing this by herself. Her only saving grace was she had decided to come here to be with Athena. She wouldn't have been able to do this on her own, at home.

Her eyes focused on Athena as she tried to smile and dialled for the emergency services instead. They would need to take (Y/n) to hospital soon and Athena wouldn't be able to do that. She would need medical help too if they had to wait a while for an ambulance to arrive.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"This is seargent Grant, I need an ambulance to my address. My daughter's gone into labour and she's thirty-eight weeks pregnant."

"How advanced is labour?"

"Her water just broke."

"Then can you keep her comfortable? With the storm, we have a backlog of emergencies and limited teams to dispatch. The current wait is almost two hours."

Panic struck a cord in Athena's chest and her hand tightened around (Y/n)'s shoulder. What were they supposed to do? Was Athena supposed to deliver her own grandson because they couldn't put this as a priority call? This was a woman going into labour, anything could happen or go wrong, they needed help and transport to the hospital.

"Make this a priority." Was Athena's response. They could wait a while, they might be able to wait an hour, but they needed help.

"Mum?" (Y/n) tilted her head back on the sofa and looked up at Athena. She wasn't sure she wanted to know what the dispatcher was saying. Why couldn't Maddie have been on shift today and answered their call? She could have talked them through this and got through to the team and sorted everything out. Maddie was calm during a crisis.

"Help will be here soon, honey."

They needed the team. They needed Evan and Bobby.

***

Tears traced down (Y/n)'s face almost as badly as the storm raging outside. Her hands clenched down on the back of the armchair and when a contraction tore through her stomach, she bit down on her lip so hard she drew blood. Her shaking arms pressed down on the chair and she leaned forward, burrowing her face into her arms.

Her back arched out and her legs began to shake from how tense they were straining to keep herself upright.

She felt Athena's hand rub up and down her back, but it wasn't the touch she wanted. It wasn't Evan. The thought made her tears fall faster and a lump formed in her throat. She shifted her weight from foot to foot and let out a scream when another pain tore her pelvis to shreds.

With a muffled scream, (Y/n) leaned over the back of the chair and scrambled around until she found her phone. She wasn't doing this alone. She wasn't having this baby without Evan. Someone was going to get the word through to him that he needed to come home. Now.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"I n- I need you to contact the 118." She gruffed, breathing through clenched teeth as her head started to go fuzzy.

"I'm sorry?"

"LAFD 118, get Buckley on the line- oow!" (Y/n) dug her nails so tightly into her phone she worried she was going to crack the screen. Her forehead pressed back down into the armchair while Athena moved her hands to hold her shoulders.

"Miss, what's your name and the nature of your emergency-"

"Get Buckley!" (Y/n) all but screamed before she held the phone to her left to try and get Athena to make the man understand.

She needed Evan. She knew dispatch could get on the radio frequency and contact the team because clearly they were out on a call. None of the team were answering their phones and (Y/n) was getting closer and closer to giving birth. If she had to do this without Evan she was never going to get over it. She wanted him here.

"Sir, you need to contact the 118 fire station and tell them that firefighter Buckley's wife is in labour. We called over an hour ago and we still haven't received any medical help. Tell Mr Buckley and Captain Nash the situation, now."

"Dispatch to Captain Nash?"

"Go ahead dispatch." Bobby gripped the radio on his shoulder but he could barely feel his fingers despite the thick gloves he was wearing. The cold from the storm was seeping into his bones by now and the rain had thoroughly soaked through his uniform to the point he felt like he was swimming.

"Is Buckley with you?"

A frown pulled on Bobby's face and he waved his hand over at Evan, shouting his name through the howling wind that was screaming at them all to go home.

"I have Buckley with me, what's the problem dispatch?" He wasn't sure why he needed his son in law here for whatever message they were about to receive. But something deep in his gut told him this wasn't going to be for anything good.

"We have Mr Buckley's wife on the line, she says she's in labour."

All the blood drained down to Evan's toes and his eyes locked with Bobby but neither of them could find words.

He shouldn't have come on shift this afternoon. He shouldn't have left (Y/n) at all this week to go to work, he should have stayed with her. He knew she hadn't seemed herself this morning when he dropped her off at Athena's. Thank God he took her there and didn't leave her home alone.

"Is she okay? Is she at the hospital?!" Evan shouted down the radio and leaned as close as he could to try and listen for the crackling response. The storm was creating a vivid distraction, he could barely see and now he could barely hear the dispatcher.

"We haven't managed to get a unit to her address yet-"

"Then don't. We're on our way."

"Oh God, mum…" (Y/n) lowered herself down to her knees and meshed her face into the back of the chair. Her fingers were about to dig through the top of the chair and her knees began to quake and cause friction against the carpet.

She barely managed to lift her head up to look to the side when she heard footsteps, but a sob bubbled up at the back of her throat when she looked over at Athena.

She was hurrying back into the living room with a bowl of hot water. There were towels, a few old blankets, gloves and scissors on the coffee table and the sight made (Y/n) want to be sick. She couldn't do this. She couldn't give birth here, at her parent's home, in the middle of a raging hurricane storm. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

"Okay honey, I need to check how far along you are-"

"No, I c- I can't… hospital. We have t-to go," Her lips rolled together as she tilted her head back to look up at Athena with pleading eyes.

"Let me see how far dilated you are, then we can worry about the team tranferring you. This is just a precaution, okay honey?" Athena needed to be prepared. She had a gut feeling that (Y/n) had been in labour for a few hours now. The constant back pain all day and the twinges and pains she had been having which she could have mistook for general pains instead of the beginning of labour.

She might be too far dilated for anyone to move her once help arrived. The 118 were leaving their latest call and diverting straight over here which meant Evan knew what was happening. And he would be here soon for the birth of his son. But Athena needed to know if she had to step in or if they would have enough time to get her in the ambulance and down to the hospital.

Shifting to the right, (Y/n) let Athena grip her arms and carefully help her up to her feet. She held onto Athena's shoulders and tucked her chin down into her chest, wheezing through crackling breaths when another contraction hit.

Her hands gripped the arm of the sofa and she doubled over, arching her lower back out.

A strangled wheeze spluttered through her lips and she tried not to cry out while Athena laid a few blankets over the sofa.

When she sat down, (Y/n) slumped down as much as she could until her thighs were barely on the sofa and she felt like she was going to slide right down to the floor. Her hands pressed into the sofa to steady herself and she let her head tilt back into the cushion.

Her lips formed a broken smile and she huffed, feeling a laugh mixing in with her broken cry.

"You're s-supposed to be my- my birthing partner, not my midwife."

Athena's smile made her heart soften somewhat, but she couldn't help but feel uneasy and angry at the same time. This wasn't fair. She was supposed to go into labour at home with Evan right next to her. They were meant to ring Bobby and Athena, all meet at the hospital and she wanted Athena and Evan in the room with her.

But not like this. Athena wasn't supposed to be acting as midwife, delivering her baby during a storm with no help and no Evan in sight.

"And why can't I be both, at least until help arrives?" Athena patted (Y/n)'s knee, but when she turned around and grabbed a pair of gloves from the table, (Y/n) tensed up.

"Mum-"

"Honey, your dilated already, but it's okay. Buck will be right through that door in no time."

She grimaced and sank back on her heels when (Y/n) screamed, and not from the pain. Her hands moved to her stomach and she pressed down like she was trying to keep the baby right where he was and prevent him from moving.

She wasn't doing this without Evan. He had to be here, this was the part he was most excited about. Evan had been expecting to be with (Y/n) when she got the first pains and when her water broke. He thought he would be driving her to the hospital, not travelling through the rain to reach her in time.

Another scream broke past (Y/n)'s lips and she shrank back into the sofa when a horrible bang shot through the house.

The front door swung so far that the door handle crashed into the wall and created a dent in the plaster. Evan planted his hand down on the door to prevent it from swinging back at him and he barged inside, followed swiftly by his father in law.

"Baby?!"

"LAFD!" Bobby called out at the same time, his breathing ragged and a trace of a smile on his lips as the team followed him inside his home.

Evan shook his head from side to side and he dragged a hand over his eyes and nose, clearing away the sheen of water cascading down his face, blocking his vision.

"Evan- oow, Evan!"

Flinging himself around the corner, Evan skidded on the carpet and catapulted over to the sofa wedged in the corner of the room beside the fireplace. He practically jumped down on the sofa, bashing his shoulder into the back frame which sent a jolt running down to his fingertips.

"I- are we- I haven't missed it?!" Terror and dread flooded his voice as he shed his gloves so he could take (Y/n)'s hand in his.

"You're just in time. Where's Hen? She's too far gone to move her, this baby's coming now." Athena waved her hand towards the top of the stairs where Hen, Chimney and Eddie were following inside with medic bags and a gurney between them. They slammed the door shut, keeping out the raging storm that sent frozen chills throughout the air and had them all shivering at the temperature change.

"Thank fuck! Oh baby, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

When Evan leaned across and pressed his frozen lips to her temple, (Y/n) cried out and reeled back as his helmet smashed into the top of her head.

"Evan." She snapped, giving his helmet a rough shove and she dragged her eyes up and down his overalls. She could feel the rain seeping into her shirt and soaking through the blanket laid out on the sofa beneath them.

"Oh," A sheepish smile pulled at his lips and he wrenched up from the sofa, tossing his helmet down to the floor. The helmet had saved him from getting his head caved in outside from the storm.

His arms flung out behind him and he tore off his overcoat and unhooked his suspenders. In one fell swoop, he shoved down his overalls that were drenched through and through and stumbled out of them so he was in his cotton shirt and trousers. He kicked his uniform to the side, grateful when Bobby moved them out the way as he shed his own jacket and helmet now they were inside.

His trousers and shirt were damp, they were almost as drenched as his overalls, but he was at least a bit dryer like this and a lot more comfortable. Once he shed his second skin, Evan slumped back down on the sofa.

He curled one leg up beneath him and shuffled across until he could loop his left arm around the back of (Y/n)'s shoulders. Her head fell on his shoulder so he could feel each harsh, gasping breath she took fan against his neck. And he held his right hand out in front of her so (Y/n) could put his fist in her grip and cling tightly to him.

"Hen, she's crowning." Athena snapped off her gloves and moved to sit on (Y/n)'s other side on the sofa so Hen could take her place.

"I leave you for one day and look what you do… trying to have him without me, hm?" Evan muttered the words quietly against her temple and he ran his hand up and down her arm.

He felt (Y/n) try to laugh but she broke off into a groan when her stomach tightened. She shifted her weight from her heels to her toes to try and steady herself so she didn't slump forward, but all she wanted to do was crumple down to the floor and fold in on herself.

"I thought y-you wouldn't make it," (Y/n) closed her eyes and leaned further into Evan, pulling his hand up to her chest as she screamed.

"I know, I know baby but I'm here now. We're all here,"

"Really big push (Y/n), and the head will be born." Hen snapped on a pair of gloves, shed her jacket and helmet and grabbed one of the towels from the table. She laid it over her lap as she knelt down on the floor. She could feel Bobby hovering on her left near Evan while Chimney and Eddie hung back at the stairs. They didn't want to overpower (Y/n) and flood her with people when that would be the last thing she needed.

"Here we go," Evan murmured into her hair, giving her hand a squeeze, although he could barely feel his hand anymore from how tightly she was gripping him.

The moment Hen announced the head was out, (Y/n) opened her eyes as Evan leaned forward to take a look which in turn made (Y/n) lean over a little. She kept his hand held to her chest and moved her free hand to hold his thigh, steadying herself on the edge of the sofa.

"Small pushes, panting breaths, you're almost done now (Y/n)."

(Y/n) could see stars dancing across her eyes when that last push finally worked. Her head slumped against Evan's neck and she could feel him laughing into her hair as he let go of her hand to cup the back of her neck.

"That's my girl." He spoke against her temple, brushing his thumb up and down the side of her neck as he suddenly realised he was swaying them both back and forth.

"Buck, you wanna do the honours?" Hen held out a pair of scissors after she's clamped the cord and her cheesy smile made Evan laugh.

He carefully unwound his arms from (Y/n) and eased her back into Athena's embrace who held her tight and kissed the back of her head. He shuffled to the edge of the sofa and leaned over, trying to stop his hands from shaking when he leaned down to cut the cord.

"Here's your beautiful boy." Hen praised, lifting up the wriggling newborn who had no trouble taking his first breath and using it to scream and announce his presence.

(Y/n) could feel herself shaking against Athena when her baby boy was delicately laid on her chest. She tightened the towel around him and tried to hold him as carefully as she could. His tiny fist wormed beneath the collar of her shirt and rested on her chest while his cheek pressed down beneath her shoulder.

Her eyes sparkled when Evan's hand curled on top of her own, cradling the back of their son's head while he perched his chin on (Y/n)'s shoulder. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss against her neck and glued his chest up into her shoulder, smiling down at the little boy that brought tears to his eyes.

"Do we have a name?" Athena spoke quietly, rubbing her hand up and down (Y/n)'s arm.

When she looked up, she smiled at Bobby who sat down on the arm of the sofa just behind Evan. He leaned over for a first look at his grandson, the person he had been waiting months to meet. And the sight had him smiling from ear to ear.

"Yeah, uh… Bobby."

"What?" Reaching out, Bobby planted his hand on Evan's shoulder but he couldn't tear his eyes away from his grandson to look at his son in law and see what he wanted. Did he want Bobby to pick a name? Was he asking him something and he just couldn't concentrate?

"No," A wide grin broke out on Evan's face as he lifted his chin from (Y/n)'s shoulder to look behind him at his captain. "That's his name, Bobby. After you."

Tilting her head to the right, (Y/n) leaned her temple against Evan's cheek and tiredly smiled up at her dad. They had already agreed as soon as they thought about boy names that their boy would be named after Bobby. He was one of the most important people in (Y/n)'s life, he was her dad and they had been through so much together.

And he was more than just a Captain to Evan. He had become a father figure to him, he looked out for him and took him under his wing. Bobby loved and cared for Evan better than his own parents did, and that was the kind of parent Evan wanted to be to his boy.

"You… you're naming him after me?"

(Y/n) nodded and smiled back down at her little baby as she tucked herself more into Evan's side. She could see her dad grinning through his tears. He was happy. He was proud.

"Baby Bobby."

[luvyeni]

❛LITTLE PINK BOOK❜ ( p. jongsong )

p. schoolmate!jay x fem!reader w. 2.7k

warnings? — 𖦹 ( jay finding your book, your little secret pink book ) !

authors note. first full fic in a minute finally back after week, also thank you for 14k , i appreciate it🫶🏾 🤙🏾🤍

You were the spitting image of girl next door — your dad a business man; your mother a stay at home wife, your family went to church every single sunday, greeted all the older church ladies, smiling when the pinched your cheeks, telling you you’d make a honest wife.

You upheld the same image; getting good grades, having no friends — you kept to yourself , never getting in trouble; boring goody-two shoes if you’d asked other students in your class. So when you dropped your little pink book in front of park jongsong— not noticing as you kept walking, he wasn’t even gonna bother picking it up, but he decided to do something good and return it. “hey!” you didn’t hear him, continuing on down the hall.

he hadn’t seen you for the rest of the day, so he ended up taking the book home with him, tossing it on the table, it opened wide. He didn’t expect to find anything, but he was still curious— what did a girl like you; a little church mouse write about?

Sitting on the edge of the desk, opening the book; reading off a random page — he was so shocked by the contents that he had to read the name over, making sure it was actually yours, he flipped through the pages in awe. Pages upon pages of straight porn is what jay would call it — your every dirty fantasy written down, things you did to yourself, things you want to do to other people, it was a lot — even a confession of the lost of the virginity; god he wished it was him who was the to defile you first.

“fuck.” He curse, getting hard at the words, it was so dirty — then he turned the page, and the first thing he saw just made him harder, his name, he adjusted himself , but it didn’t help as he read the page — ‘I do anything he asked me to’. You were saying that about him , you wrote about what you wanted him to do.

His hands traveled down to his pants, just has his door opened — he quickly tossed the book leaning over to cover up his hard on, his mother walking in; just in time. “you’re home?” he nodded , trying to catch his breath. “yes.”

“why do you look so nice?” he questioned. “get dressed for dinner, we’re meeting your dads new business partner for dinner at their home.” He sighed, he hated these things. “really? do I have to come?” his mom nodded. “yes you do, the y/ln’s are good people, we need to get in their good graces.” He froze at the last name. “y/ln?”

“yeah.” His mom hummed. “they have a daughter, sweet girl she does to your school, do you know her?” he shrugged, trying to keep his cool; yeah he knew you — well he thought he did. “big school probably passed her a couple times.” He said. “well she’s gonna be there tonight so dress nice.” He nodded, she walked out , closing the door leaving him alone.

He picked the book up, sitting it down on the table — finding a outfit for the night. “jay be quick we leave 5!” his mom yelled from the steps. “okay!” he stuffed the book in his pocket with a smirk on his face. “you look nice baby.” He thanked his mom. “be on your best behavior son, your father needs this deal.” He couldn’t promise anything, he definitely had other things in mind. “I promise.”

You sat on your bed, going through your homework; your door opening making you look up. “you wearing that?” your mother said, making you look down at your outfit. “well it’s just dinner with daddy’s co worker.” you said, your mother nodding opting to not fight with you. “I guess so, did you finish your homework? They should be here soon?”

“yes, im just finishing up now.” You said. “good, I’ll call you when you they get here.” She left you, closing the door. You began to put your stuff in your bag — noticing something; your little pink book, it was missing. “oh no.” you said, searching through your bag, dumping everything out — gone, it was gone. “shit.” You couldn’t even remember where you last saw it, you always kept it tight with you.

You began pacing, if anyone found out what you wrote in that book you’d be in trouble — who could even have it? Did anyone have is? If so who? All these thoughts raced through your mind, just as your mother called out for you. “dinner!” you sighed, smoothing out your skirt, you couldn’t let your parents see you shaken up, blowing out a breathe before leaving out your room.

You made your way down the steps — your mother and waiting at the bottom. “there she is, come here baby.” Your mom pulled you to her side, kissing your forehead. “mom.” You whined, the couple in front of you laughing. “these are the parks.” You held your hand out shaking both of them. “nice to meet you.”

“nice to meet you as well young lady.” The older man said. “such a pretty daughter, much prettier than you described her.” You smiled, nodding your head. “thank you ma’am.” She smiled. “our son jay is in the car, getting the gift he’ll be in soon.”

Jay? As in park jongsong? You knew him all too well, he was the subject of just about everything recently you wrote about in your journal — if he was the one to find it, you’d die.

“ah! There he is.” Mr.park called for the boy as he walked in the room, holding the bottle of wine. “sorry it took so long.” He bowed to your parents, his eyes honing in on you. “I do know you.” Your breath caught in your throat, how did he know you? He hardly paid attention to anybody else but his friends. “h-how?”

“you’re in my history class, you sit in the back quite as little mouse.” He smiled, you didn’t even notice the look in his eyes — full of hunger. “head always in a book.” Your mom slapped your arm. “I told you about that.” You hissed. “im sorry.”

“lets take a seat.” Your father guided everyone to the eating area; jay took a seat across from you— you can feel his eyes on you. You looked up, eyes locking on you— did he know? You squinted your eyes in confusion and he smiled, before turning to your father. “may i use the restroom?”

“sure son, yn could you show him?” you looked up from the empty plate. “m-me?” you said. “yes you.” You dad laughed along with the parks. “oh ye-yeah sure.” You stood up, jay mimicking you. “fo-follow me.” You walked up the steps, he followed behind you, book in his pocket — like a predator stalking his prey.

You walked to the end of the hall where the bathroom was, pushing the door open. “here you go.” You went to walk away, until he spoke up. “you really don’t know who I am?” you stopped , heart racing. “we-well we do go to the same school.” You said. “that’s it?” he said, reaching in his pocket — revealing the pink book, your heart dropping. “really?”

“h-how do you have that?” you stuttered. “oh this, you dropped it.” He said. “see I was gonna leave it, then i decided to give it back.” He said, stepping closer to you, making you take a step back. “but you didn’t answer, so I took it home — and then I got a little curious.” He said; so he did read it. “for such a cute and innocent face, you surely write about a lot of dirty thing in this notebook.”

He was now pressing you against the wall. “I also no, daddys little girl has been lying about being a virgin, seems like somebody already popped that little cherry of yours.” He smirked. “jay— princess and the things you said about me, damn.” He dry laughed. “for someone who’s never said a word to me, you surely want me to do a lot of things to you.” His hand came up to your face, caressing it. “what was it?” he teased. “let me do whatever I want to you.”

He was pressing against you, you could feel his hard on your stomach. “seems like our little church mouse is hiding many secrets.” You couldn’t get a word out, but the way his hands traveled down your body, his hand burning your exposed skin made your body tingle. “we-we have to go back down stairs.”

He smiled, stepping to the side, letting you walk past. “yeah we do, don’t want daddy to think im doing anything to his precious little girl right.?” You tried to gather yourself, panties sticking uncomfortable to your cunt as— he walked past you, whispering in your ear. “this isn’t over baby.”

You made it back to your seat before jay did, sitting down. “he’ll be down soon.” You sat down, your mom finally bringing the food from the kitchen — jay finally returning, sitting down in his seat, his eyes on you, you looked down at your plate, secretly fanning your warm face.

He didn’t make dinner easier either , using his foot to toy with you, starring at you so intensely that you would stumble over your words every time his parents would ask you a question.

“dinner was lovely, Mrs. yln.” Jay said. “thank you jay such a sweet boy.” If only she knew the thoughts he was having about her sweet daughter. “it was lovely dear, but I believe there is business to disgust.” Your dad said. “mr.park?” your dad stood. “my office?”

“Mrs. park while the men discuss business would you like some wine?” your mother asked. “sure why not, you kids can go play amongst yourselves right.” Jay laughed. “we aren’t 5.” His mom glared at him. “but im sure we can find something to do.” He turned to you, you could see his eyes full of lust. “right?”

They dismissed you both, sending you both upstairs, putting enough trust in both of you— they were wrong; the moment the door closed to your bedroom, he was grabbing your arm, pulling you close to him, pressing his forehead against yours. “j-jay.”

“so pretty.” He whispered, holding his hands in your hand. “what do you want?” your mind went blank. “an-anything.” You whimpered. “yeah, let me do whatever I want?” his other hand coming up to his collar, undoing the tie. “yes, please ” He could see the look in your blown out eyes— you wanted this just as bad as he did. “okay little mouse.”

Taking the tie — you looked so confused. “give me your hands.” you held your hand out. “I believe this was in that little fuck book of yours.” Your ears were hot from embarrassment. “what was it? Ah I believe it said you wanted me to tie your hands behind your back and have my way with you.” He smirked, turned you around, tying your hands. “what else did you write?”

“yo-you read it didn’t you?” you whimpered, just wanting him to touch you. “yeah, but I want to hear you say it.” He said. “so, tell me baby, what did you write.” He pressed his cock against your ass. You whimpered, he left little kisses down your neck. “i-i sa-said i wanted you to fuck my face.” He smirked. “yeah you did.”

“get on your knees.” He commanded, you compiled immediately. “oh baby , it's like you’re used to this.” He tease. “almost like you’ve done this before.” Truth be told, you haven’t — you weren’t a virgin anymore, losing your virginity to you secret boyfriend months prior, but that’s it.

“i-i haven’t.” hearing that made his cock twitch. “so you were writing all those dirty things without having done any of them.” He laughed furthering your embarrassment. “don’t worry, baby I got you.” He undid his belt, letting his pants fall to his ankles, along with his underwear, his cock slapping against his stomach, it was much bigger than the ones you seen, wanting to touch but you couldn’t due to the restrictions. “give it a kiss pretty girl.”

He hissed as he felt the shortness of your lips. “fuck, now open up.” You slowly opened your mouth, letting him slide his cock into your wet cavern. “fuck, there we go.” He sighed, slowly pushing himself inside. “just be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth.”

He started off slow, just to ease you into it — speeding up his movements gradually, his tip kissing the back of your throat. “fuck your little throat is sucking me like crazy.” You began to gag around him, unable to grab his thighs, he grabbed your head to steady you. “go-gonna fuck your face.”

Using your throat, throwing his head back. “fuck , gonna cum.” groaned, pushing himself fully down your throat, groaning in pleasure as he came, filling your throat with his warm seed. “oh fuck.” He let your hair go , releasing your head — you coughed, lips swollen and wet. “so nasty.” He tapped his cock on your lips. “looked so fuck out just from sucking cock.”

Thing’s escalated from there, he pulled you up. “what else was is?” you felt him reach under your skirt. “what else did you want me to baby?” your voice was sore, legs wobbly as he pushed you on to the bed, arms still behind your back. “i-i wanted you to fuck me.”

“good girl.” he maneuvered your body into his desired position, your ass up in the air — pulling your panties down, the air hitting your cunt, you whined. “look how wet you are.” He tease your cunt with his fingers. “such a slutty pussy baby, little church mouse wants me to use her.” He slapped your ass, you yelped. “be quite unless you want mommy and daddy to hear how much of a slut you are.”

You felt him shuffling behind you, wiggling your hips. “stay still.” You felt another slap on your ass, you bit down on your plushie, moaning as you felt the warmth of his cock. “daddy would be so disappointed.” He slapped his cock on your cunt, teasing the tip of his cock into your hole. “seeing his daughter tied up — fuck!” he groaned as he fully seethed himself inside you. “j-jay.”

He was much thicker than the guy before, filling you up; moving his hips. “fuck this cunt is so fucking tight.” He squeezed your ass. “fuck!” you squealed, “jay please.” He began to move faster, grabbing your arms as he fucked into you, your shoulders were going to hurt in the morning, but you couldn’t care less with the way he was fucking you. “I should’ve known this innocent church girl was disguise.” He groaned. “that you really were a slut.”

He lifted you up by your wrist, roughly fucking into faster. “something else I read in that book.” He moaned. “you want me to make you squirt.” He cursed, his hand coming around to your clit, rubbing it. “if that’s what you want, then I want you to squirt for me.” He slapped at your cunt. “cum for me.” He whispered into your ear, your eyes rolled to the back of the head, as you came, he released your arms, letting you face plant into your pillows as he continued to plow into you.

“fuck, fuck im gonna cum, where do you want it?” he groaned. “i-inside.” Your voice muffled in the pillow. “please.” He grunted, thrusting a few more times, feeling the warmth of his cum filling you up. “fuck.” He stopped moving, his cock twitching.

He finally undid his tie from your hands, gently laying your lower body down. “good girl.” He said softly. “let’s get you cleaned up yeah?”

“jay!” you heard his mom yelling down the steps. “time to go.” He pulled the covers over your body , still holding the book in his hands. “gonna keep this pretty girl.” He smirked. “got a lot of reading to do.” He said , walking out, forgetting his tie — knowing you’d have to walk up and give it back to him, he could see your shy red face as you approach him, nervously giving him the tie back, almost made him horny again. he was determined to do everything you wanted him to do in the book.

He was gonna turn you into his perfect little slut.

©️LUVYENI

[antoncyng]

౨ৎ. STORYTIME - k.sn

synopsis - you listen in when your boyfriend offers to put your daughter to sleep

genre / warning(s) - fluff, ! sunoo is not the dad !, daughter name is jieun and she’s 4 ><, ex-idol!sunoo x fem!reader, sunoo and reader have been dating for 2 and a half years

wc - 792

you sat on the couch with your boyfriend after finally putting your daughter to sleep, taking what felt like hours with how much energy she had at 11:34 pm. he just smiled at you proudly as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, rubbing your skin softly.

until your love was disturbed by tiny footsteps and a toddlers voice, you sighed knowing what would happen. small sniffles came from behind the couch, turning your head to make contact with your daughter who was standing there in her pajamas, stuffed bunny in one small hand while the other rubbed the tears in her eyes.

“i don’t like the dark.” your daughter said to you after sniffling a few more times and catching her breath. “baby, your nightlight was on. what do you mean the dark?” you responded to her, confused as you clearly remember turning it on before leaving the room.

“too dark.” all you could do was sigh and stand up, but you felt a hand grab yours. “it’s okay, you stay here. i’ll put her to bed.” sunoo said to you with a sweet smile before standing up and turning to your daughter. “how about i put you to bed tonight? how does that sound? i can read you a small story too”

you could tell your daughter really loved sunoo, especially from the bright smile that appeared on her face when your boyfriend’s offer was spoken. taking his hand in her smaller one, they waddled off to her bedroom together.

you soon followed along and put your ear to the door, while watching the small creek that was left open, you couldn’t help but get curious on how your boyfriend would put jieun to sleep.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ IN JIEUN’S ROOM

“what story do you want to read tonight bug?” sunoo asked her sweetly, helping her sit on the bed comfortable, while he sat at the end.

“can you make a story for me? i’ve read all of mine already?” she says back, pointing to the bookshelf of short books that have already been read to her multiple times.

sunoo just nods and smiles, before moving off her bed and drawing a quick picture, than coming back and sitting on her bed again. “are you ready? you have to really focus on this story, okay?” he starts, your daughter just nodding with a waited smile on her lips.

“well, once upon a time in a beautiful bunny forest, lived a pink baby bunny named.. what should we name her?” he asked jieun, trying to make the story more interactive for her.

“rachel!” she said excitingly. “okay, lets call her rachel then. one day rachel wanted to go to the playground with her friends, but her mommy made her make a promise. can you guess what that is?” sunoo read from the picture to her, getting a head shake of denial in response.

“her mommy asked her to promise to go straight to sleep when she comes home, just like your mommy tells you.” he says, tickling her stomach slightly when she gets brought up in the story, earning a giggle from your daughter. “but why does she have to sleep right away?”

“well, when you go to sleep, it gives you energy for the next day! with no sleep or even a little bit of sleep, you’ll be too tired to play the next day. do you want to miss out on a day of playing because you didn’t sleep before? you’ll be very sad, you know.” sunoo cocks an eyebrow at jieun, leaving her mouth agape and she nods her head.

“can i sleep now then? i don’t want to miss playtime tomorrow!” she says, worriedly while she pulls her blanket higher and clutches her stuffed animal in her arm, while sunoo grows a smile on his face and just nods.

“that sounds like a good idea, lets get you tucked in.” he stands up, helping jieun get comfortable in her bed before kissing her forehead, turning off the main loght and turning on her nightlight. “are you going to be here when i wake up?” jieun looks up at sunoo with puppy eyes.

“yes, i’ll be in the room with mommy. call me if you need me okay? goodnight bun, sweet dreams.” he says while brushing her hair to the side before leaving her room quietly, making eye contact with you after closing her door.

“is she sleeping?” he nods in response, wrapping his arms around your neck in a bear hug.

“lets get our own rest now, unless you need a storytime too?” sunoo chuckles with a teasing manner before walking to your bedroom together, you knew you were so in love.