The post i recently reblogged about the Romeo and Juliet with heelys in reminded me of the way I got my first heelys.

It was when we lived in the states (NYC area) and my mother had a drs appointment that was going to take at least an hour. I was 8, and allowed to either stay in the waiting room or go to the rooftop garden, but that was all.

At the age of eight I had gotten my first job that paid like, appreciable money (I worked for the family business for five dollars an hour prior to this but got a job with a friend of the family pulling 100 dollars a week doing two nights of office cleaning with them. Yea, child labor. Not the point of my funny story tho. I liked my money. I’m honestly not mad about it.)

So I had cash.

And damn I wanted heelys.

So I illicitly left the building and walked six blocks to the closest Modell’s (gotta go to mo’s) and bought my gorgeous heelys for 30 big bucks.

At this age I had taken to carting around a huge messenger bag for all my books and I had premeditated this excursion and packed an empty box in the bag to make it look full, chucked that in a crosswalk garbage bin and carried the shoebox back.

Not questioned by the mother. None the wiser I had left.

No one was awake to see me leave for school wearing them and no one was home to see me come home wearing them and I got away with this for literal years (I had had a fairly large growth spurt at 8 and bought two sizes too big so they fit for ages)

what love feels like ༓ myg (m)

✑ Summary: Being a mother to a beautiful baby girl and wife to an adoring husband is the most rewarding feeling in the world. But you also work a full-time job, are overtired most of the time, stressed, don't have any alone time, look very different than eight years ago, and sex? Well, that hasn’t happened in weeks. The gravity of the situation weighs on you until one day, all of your deepest insecurities rear their ugly head–that your husband might not love you as much anymore and someone could take him away from you.

Pairing: husband!yoongi x reader

AU/genre: angst, fluff, smut, marriage au

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 6.7k+

Warnings: swearing, both Yoongi and oc are in their 30s, mom and full-time worker!oc, reserved!dad!yoongi, lack of intimacy, mentions of body insecurities post-pregnancy, mentions of fear of abandonment, mentions of jealousy. irrational worries, built-up stress, light fighting, silent treatment, stubbornness, lots of reassurance, nightmares, cute backstory of how they met, a lot of ily, Yoongi and oc being good parents 🥹, Yoongi calls oc doll, and explicit sexual content

sexual warnings: swearing, kissing, neck kisses, pleading, banter, dirty talk, doll petname, asking for consent, b**b squeezing & sucking, hair threading, penetration, f*ngering, big d*ck!yoongi, growling, missi*nary, eye contact, tearing up, c*ming together

Now Playing: Breathing by Anne Marie

a/n: Okay this was for Yoon's bday. Based on the poll, husband!Yoon won. Was intended to be a Drabble but well...heh 😅 Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this fic and Yoon is just such a good hubby for responding well to these very relatable insecurities. (Low-key love this couple...) I'm sorry for any typos or warnings i missed! I checked and double checked but a few might have slipped. Enjoy! Anyway please enjoy! 🥰

“So, you're Jia's father, huh? I don’t think I've seen you here before, and I’m sure I would have recognized you.”

With his back straight and arms folded, Yoongi gives the woman in front of him a quick once-over. Mid-40s, freshly single, and definitely in need of some companionship. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out; she’s been talking his ear off for the past twenty minutes like he’s some kind of remedy to all her problems.

Honestly, he just swung by to pick up his four-year-old from daycare after another grueling day at work. But the moment he walked in, it was as if all the single moms latched onto him like a flock of hungry geese. This one’s name is Sandra in particular.

It reminds him of his college basketball days, how the cheerleaders all too eagerly swarmed around him after sinking the winning shot at the championship game. Shame he was too busy eyeing the girl in the stands to care, her face buried behind a book twice as big as her head. Who reads an 800-page novel during the playoffs anyway?

Fate, as one may call it, intervened about a week later when his best friend became said girl’s lab partner. Yoongi didn’t make any sudden moves at first, but well, he did make her his wife three years later.

“It’s just so nice to finally meet the father of such a sweet child. Especially considering how many dads tend to take a backseat in their child's early years.” Is she still going on? Yoongi does his best to stay present, though it’s proving unsuccessful. “And Jia truly is an angel! It’s clear you’re doing a wonderful job raising her, even with a full-time job and all.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows knit together at the somewhat odd choice of words. “Thanks,” he drawls out, noticing her pupils dilating with every breath. “Most of the credit goes to my wife though. She’s a great mom to Jia.”

“Jia’s m-mom?” Sandra stutters, her mouth slightly agape. Yoongi senses the gears turning in her head as she struggles to process the unexpected presence of his wife. Tempting as it is, he holds down a smirk. Of course, he’s a happily married man–for nearly eight years now.

“Yeah,” he replies simply. “She’s usually the one to pick up our daughter from daycare, but she’s been working a lot of overtime lately. I thought I'd come instead so she can get some rest."

“Oh, well that’s very–“

“Daddy! Daddy, you’re here!” The sound of a familiar high-pitched voice, along with a light pattering of feet, diverts both adult’s attention.

“Hey kid.” Yoongi effortlessly lifts the small child once in front of him, securing her in his arms. “Have fun today?”

Jia gives an enthusiastic nod, bright red ribbons in her hair bouncing cutely as she does. Proudly, she shows him the drawing she made.

“See? It’s me, you, and mommy!” She makes sure to point to each part of the picture with her pointer finger.

Yoongi gently takes the artwork from his daughter’s hand and lets out a soft chuckle. “Now this is what I call a masterpiece! Mommy’s gonna love hanging this one on the fridge. How about I hold onto this and you go grab your backpack, okay?”

As soon as Jia’s feet touch the carpeted floor again, she races off to her cubby in the far corner of the room. Yoongi shoots Sandra a final glance before slowly following behind. “We got to get going, but nice meeting you.”

“You…too.” Sandra’s response is more than disappointed as she watches the father-daughter duo make their way out of the building. Evidently, Min Yoongi isn’t the single dad she originally assumed. Funny, she swore there wasn’t a wedding band in sight. Maybe she missed it.

“No, I’m sorry but I’m certain we haven’t used any of your services in the last six months. My husband canceled it in late October.”

With one hand, you grip your cell phone up to an ear while the other pops open the dishwasher. You’ve been on the phone with the cable company for half an hour, trying to make sense of an unexpected charge that appeared on your bank account this morning. You consider yourself more patient than most, yet after working all day, a pile of laundry waiting to be washed, and dinner threatening to burn on the stove, the last thing you have time for is arguing with your old service provider.

“I understand, ma’am, and I apologize for any confusion. I’m taking a look at my records and they’re all showing me that—oh wait a second.”

The young man on the opposite end of the line interrupts his own thought, piquing your concern in the process.

“What did you say your last name is?”

You answer and in an instant, you’re met with a thousand rushed apologies; something about getting the account names mixed up in their system. It’s difficult to decipher everything you hear with the front door being thrust open that very moment.

“Mommy, where are you? We’re home!” Your daughter not so subtly announces her presence from the foyer. She kicks off her shoes, hangs her backpack on the designated wall hook, and then rushes to the kitchen upon catching a brief glimpse of your shirt.

“It’s alright, these mistakes happen.” You hang up the call and turn around to find Jia only steps away, a big goofy grin on her face. Infectious, you break out into a smile yourself and swoop her up.

“Hey honey, I missed you so much!” You kiss the side of your daughter’s head as she wraps her small arms around your neck. “You look so pretty with all these ribbons in your hair! Daddy did a good job, didn’t he?”

Being that you were called into work earlier than usual this morning, Yoongi was the one who got Jia dressed and ready for daycare. You’re delightfully surprised by the results.

“Mmhm,” Jia nods, twirling a couple of strands of hair between her thumb and forefinger. “But Daddy pulls too much!”

“Maybe if someone had listened and stopped fussing when I told her, I wouldn’t have accidentally yanked on her hair when I was reaching for her favorite Hello Kitty scrunchie.” Yoongi joins you both in the kitchen, walking over to press a quick peck on your lips while tenderly caressing the small of your back. The gesture soothes you of your earlier frustrations. “Who was that on the phone? Cable company?”

“Yeah, they canceled the charge. Wrong account.” As you reiterate the entire mix-up, your eyes wander all over your husband. He’s especially handsome tonight, given his perfectly tousled black hair and navy blue blazer flowing over his body. It’s tastefully oversized with a clean, white top paired underneath. You, on the other hand, are sporting a raggedy old t-shirt and stained sweatpants.

There was a time when you used to put a shit ton more effort into your appearance. It was before you got pregnant with Jia, back when you and Yoongi were going out on weekly dates. Neither of you has that kind of time anymore, or energy for that matter. You didn’t believe the other moms when they told you the romance takes a nose dive after you have your first kid. Yet here you are, proven wrong again.

Being parents to a beautiful baby girl is likely the most rewarding feeling in the world for you and Yoongi. You don’t remember the last time the two of you got real quality alone time though. And sex? Well, that hasn’t happened in weeks. The gravity of the situation weighs more on you with each passing day to be honest. Sure, you’re not the same person you used to be eight years ago, but shouldn’t you and Yoongi still make time for at least a little intimacy?

“How was picking up Jia by the way?” You look at Yoongi who merely shrugs nonchalantly in response.

“It was fine. Nothing too out of the ordinary,” Yoong gives you another peck before heading up the stairs to your bedroom. “I’m gonna go get changed. Why don’t you show Mommy the drawing you did Jia?”

“A drawing?” You shift your attention to your daughter whose eyes sparkle like diamonds upon mention. “We should put it up on the fridge then. Let’s take a look hmm?”

“It’s in my backpack! My new friend and I were drawing together. Her name is Mi-Sun.” Jia continues telling you all about her friend Mi-Sun as you make your way to the front door where her backpack hangs. You’re fully engaged until the very end. “Daddy made a new friend too!” she joyously claps her hands together, not realizing the depth of her remark.

“Oh, who’s Daddy’s new friend honey?” You ask, staying as calm as possible.

“Ms. Cho! They were talking for a really long time today.”

Ms. Cho? You think back to all the moms you’ve met at daycare. Somehow you can’t recall ever hearing or meeting a Ms. Cho. She must be a single mom, you deduce. Was she new? What did she look like? And why didn’t Yoongi mention her when you asked?

This has to be nothing but a little small talk, an acquaintance at most. Besides, the moms at Jia’s daycare are quite a chatty bunch and Yoongi wouldn’t dare overstep any boundaries.

“Do you know what they were talking about?” You don’t enjoy asking your child for details about your husband, yet you can’t seem to help it this time.

“I dunno,” she shrugs her shoulders. "Daddy was laughing a lot."

Suddenly, the self-assurance you gave yourself earlier slips away; seemingly useless given the queasy feeling building in the pit of your stomach.

For the remainder of the night, you purposely dodge every attempt your husband makes to kiss, touch, and hold you. You’ve even begun responding to his questions in one-word answers and at times, with nothing at all.

Yes, you’re being petty; more than usual. The silent treatment frustrates Yoongi to no end and it isn’t very mature of you, but neither is refusing to tell your wife that some single mom was flirting with you in front of your kid! Okay, so maybe that's an exaggeration. Maybe it all sums up to a harmless conversation, but it’s not like you know either way with Yoongi being as reserved as he is. It brings you back to your early dating days when he wouldn’t think to tell you about various aspects of his day; who he ate breakfast with that morning or the one classmate of his that wouldn’t leave him alone for two semesters.

Truth be told, you're simply hoping that your husband will bring up the topic first, without having to be the classic nagging wife. You’re a jealous person by nature so it’s not a simple task. Even now as you fold the first batch of laundry on your shared bed, him on the other side doing the same, you struggle to keep from blurting everything out.

“So,” Yoongi fluffs up a clean pillowcase before sliding it onto one of the bed pillows. “How was work?”

What a basic question, you grumble internally. Is that all he’s got? “Was okay,” you reply. “The usual.”

“You must be tired from the day. Did you get to lie down at all?” Yoongi picks up another pillowcase, repeating the process as before. When he glances your way, it’s clear something’s on your mind. You’ve started pairing Jia’s socks far more aggressively than normal and you’re holding back your responses. “Did you hear me, doll? Or am I going deaf here?” The sarcastic chuckle distracts you from your task, forcing your attention.

You’re about to respond when your eyes briefly flicker down to his hands, his left one in particular. Where's his wedding ring? Yoongi always wears it no matter what. The same sick feeling from before returns tenfold. No wonder that Ms. Cho was all over him–she must have thought he was single.

“No, I didn’t get to lie down Yoongi. I worked all day, came home and made dinner, called the cable guy to get that stupid bill figured out, and now I’m doing the second load of laundry. I’m really just not in the mood to chat.” It comes out a blur as you snatch the empty laundry basket and head for your washer and dryer, your eyes welling up with tears.

“__, wait.” Yoongi tosses the last pillow near the headboard and stops you in your tracks, his hand firmly gripping one end of the laundry basket. The intensity of his stare softens as he speaks. “I'm sorry if it seems like I'm forcing you to talk. I know you've been losing a lot of sleep recently between work, Jia, and upkeeping the house. We just don't get a lot of time to see each other anymore and I miss you…I miss talking to you."

With every ounce of self-control remaining, you hold back any tears that risk spilling out. You don't know why you're acting like this, why you're crying over something that seems so small and insignificant to the rest of the world. Yoongi loves you. He's said it a million times and proven it to you over and over again, for eight years now. He wouldn’t cheat on you, yet you still get so worked up about the idea that someone could take him away from you. Someone half your age, more attractive, or hell even the opposite sex if it means fewer dark circles under their eyes.

"Why- why aren't you wearing your ring?" Your naturally confident voice dwindles to the whisper of a mouse. It's completely out of character, nevertheless, here you are.

"I..." Your husband's voice wavers. His gaze flickers to his left hand, where his ring should be, but isn't. "Shit...I took it off in the shower this morning," he confesses, frustrated by his forgetfulness. "I was in such a rush to get Jia to daycare, and me to work, that it completely slipped my mind. I'm sorry—I fully intended to put it back on." He pauses, then perks up. "It's still in the bathroom. I'll be right back, okay?"

You watch as he makes a beeline for the master bathroom, eager to rectify the situation as soon as possible. You should have kept silent what you say next, but you don't.

"No wonder the moms at Jia's daycare were so drawn to you."

"What?" Yoongi stops in his tracks. The dumbfounded expression on his face tells you that you've caught him off guard again.

"Jia told me about someone named Ms. Cho," you reluctantly continue. "The two of you were laughing and talking and–"

"Baby, don't worry about that." Seizing his chance, your husband walks back over to you and sneakily pulls the laundry basket from under your arm. He sets it on the ground after, then reaches to take your hand in his, but stubbornly you cross your arms.

"Her name's Sandra," he starts explaining. "She's a new mom at the daycare and she didn't know anyone, so she started talking to me. I got the sense she was a little overly friendly but it was all small talk, nothing more."

Still largely unsatisfied, you remain unmoved. "If it wasn't a big deal then why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Because nothing serious happened. The majority of the conversation was her venting about her ex-husband and me wishing you were right there next to me. Please believe me. All I could think about was finally being able to come home to you after a long week with Jia in our arms."

"Really?" Well, now you're feeling guilty for avoiding him in nearly every way tonight. Guilty for believing such wild assumptions that he'd leave you for someone else over one measly conversation. Guilty for letting yourself get so worked up over a situation you, quite frankly, knew few details about.

"I mean it doll." This time, when he reaches out to grasp your wrist, he succeeds. He intertwines his fingers with yours and leads you to the edge of your bed, gently pulling you down to sit on his lap. "Do you really think I could look at anyone else the way I look at you? Or think about you the way I have for the last eight-plus years we've been married and known each other?"

You hesitate your answer, averting his eye contact. "I know but…"

"No, don't finish that. Look at me," he intercepts. "You and our daughter are the only women on my mind–24/7. I can't get either of you out of my head and I don't want to. I'm so sorry I forgot to put my wedding band back on this morning, and again tonight. I feel awful about it and I'll be more careful from now on. And another thing, when Sandra and I were talking I mentioned you multiple times. So, it's clear to her that I'm a happily married man."

The last bit of information manages to perk your ears. "You talked about me?" Your eyes widen as you finally shift your full attention to him. Yoongi eyes widen with you, amused by your sudden change of heart to look at him.

"I said my wife is an amazing mother, works too hard for her own good, and needed to rest today. Give or take a few words."

That's all? You huff to yourself. Would it been nice if your husband also thrown in that you were beautiful or stunning in that mix of compliments? Yes, yes it would have–again, you're pettiness clouds your better judgment. You're not as pissed off as before, but rather semi-irritated.

"Okay…well I guess it's fine then. I'm sorry for being short with you earlier. I shouldn't have made those rash conclusions about the ring and that woman from the daycare. It wasn't reasonable of me." You get up from his lap, yet Yoongi isn't entirely convinced that you're okay.

"There's still something you're not telling me. I can tell."

"No, there's nothing else." You waive him off, placing your hand on your bedroom doorknob "You told her you had a wife so it's fine. I need to switch the second load of laundry.”

"Come on, doll. Let's not leave things unsaid now."

Sighing at his plead, you find yourself giving into all your repressed thoughts and emotions. It swallows you up, like a tidal wave you can't stop. "Look at me Yoon. I'm sweaty, I have dark circles under my eyes, stretch marks, love handles, my hair's a mess, and all I wear are old sweats covered in stains. I'm nothing like I used to be! No wonder we aren't intimate anymore."

Yoongi rises from the bed at once, offended by the sudden digression. "Is that what this is all about? It’s not even about that single mom from daycare is it?" The truth of the matter sinks in as he speaks.

"I guess maybe so…though I'm still annoyed about that too." Great, you're back to square one again.

"Come with me, I need to show you something." Your husband gestures you to follow him, which you slowly concede to.

"What are you doing Yoon?" You both walk into the master bathroom, stopping in front of the large mirror above the sink.

"I'm showing you the woman I'm in love with and have been in love with for nearly eight years now. Sweats and all." Yoongi makes you face the mirror directly, hands around your shoulders. You have trouble stomaching the sight.

"Yoongi please, I can't. The laundry ringing off." You avoid looking into the mirror and make a move to leave the bathroom.

"Just stay with me a minute, please?" Your husband refuses to loosen his hold on you, turning your body so you're looking eye to eye. "No, you're not the same person as you were and neither am I. We're parents to a beautiful daughter now, who we love and adore. We're also overtired 90% of the time, juggling a million things at once. But there's one thing you can count on to always stay the same–my loyalty to you. I'll always be in love with you __, no matter what age you are or however way you look. There's nothing you can do to change that, so why fight it?"

Dammit. A single tear rolls down your cheek as you take in his heart-melting speech. It's not his words alone, it's the sincerity behind them. How he's repeated similar countless times before throughout your entire relationship.

"I love you, Yoon..." you choke out the words, composure fleeting.

"I love you so much, doll." He wipes the wetness of your tear with his thumb. "As far as us not being as intimate anymore, that's my fault. I don't ever want you to feel like I don't desire you every day. Why don't we send the kid to my parents this weekend and let me start making things right hmm?"

"I don't know if we can this weekend. Jia has a playdate on Saturday."

"So, I'll ask Mom to take her. She'll be happy to, trust me. We can finally watch that movie you've been dying to show me since what? December?"

"You're serious?" Your eyes light up at the mention of what is essentially a movie date. The show Yoongi's referring to is one you've been craving to see for months, yet neither of you has found the time to watch. "I've been talking about it for so long, Yoon."

"I know you have, it's why I suggested it. I've been wanting to watch it too with all the trailers you keep sending me. Plus, I'll be able to keep my beautiful wife in my arms for over two hours. That's a lot for us, especially with you being such a busy bee. I can never get you to light in one place! What's up with that, huh?"

Feeling your natural self re-emerging, you throw a playful swat to his arm and scowl at his teasing comment. "You're one to talk! You're basically a workaholic! Besides, you knew who you were marrying when you met me."

Yoongi chuckles and brings both hands to cup your cheeks, squishing them slightly. "A cutie who reads 800-page novels at a basketball game?"

"Stop babying me!" You pull his hands off your cheeks and rub them, trying to regain some composure. "I don't regret my choices, I like books. It's why I'm such a boss at work!"

"Okay, boss," he laughs. "What about what I suggested before then? I can call Mom tomorrow and ask her if she could watch Jia for the day. She'll take her to her playdate, then they can spend the rest of the day together."

It does sound nice, having the whole day with your husband.

"Okay," you agree. "Let's try."

"Good." Yoongi slides his hands down to your hips and pulls you flush against his chest. "How about we seal it with a kiss now?" You nod and he leans his head down, pressing an amazing, tender kiss to your lips. It makes you both giddy on queue.

"Read one more story, Daddy!" Jia leaps off her small, twin bed and bounds for her bookshelf. She lets out a series of giggles when a large pair of hands catch her, lifting her high into the air.

"I already read you three books kid," Yoongi says, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Bedtime." He then tucks her into her fluffy comforter, plugs in her teddy bear nightlight, and closes her bedroom door.

The next second, Jia comes running out of her room, latching onto his right leg. "I don't wanna go to bed. I wanna play!" Figures she'd be hyper at this hour.

Yoongi sighs and picks her up. "Daddy told you to go to sleep, it's not playtime. You'll have lots of time for that tomorrow when you get to see your friend." He then carries her into her room, yet she fusses in his arms; thumping her tiny fists into his chest.

"No, no, no, Daddy. I want to play!"

Sighing, Yoongi looks at his child with sharp eyes. "Jia–"

"Hey," you interrupt, entering your daughter's bedroom upon hearing the commotion down the hall. "What's going on?"

"Kid doesn't want to go to bed."

You give an empathetic look and saunter over to the pair, gently taking Jia into your arms. Yoongi places his hands on his hips as he watches you reason with your daughter.

"Jia, you know tomorrow's a big day right? You and Sana are going to go to the playground together." The child nods. "You don't want to be tired when you're playing do you?"

"No..." She shakes her head. "I want to be awake!"

"Then you need to listen to Daddy and go to sleep. That way you'll be full of energy tomorrow when you and Sana go on the swings or slide down all the big slides." You smile as Jia starts rubbing her drowsy eyes, yawning in the process.

"But I...okay," she slowly concedes, eyes fluttering shut as she gives into her sleepy state. Unsurprising to you and Yoongi, she was tired all along. But like most kids, hated going to bed.

"See?" You lay Jia in her bed and pull the covers up near her chin, giving her a light kiss on the side of her head. Yoongi bends down and does the same after you. "You just gotta talk to her a little, she'll typically fall asleep on her own."

"But I read her three of her favorite books." Yoongi shuts off the overhead light, along with the door to Jia's room, and follows you to your bedroom.

"That's different Yoon," you argue back. "Books excite her."

"She takes after you that way then." Yoongi pulls his t-shirt off, leaving him bare-chested, and climbs onto his side of the bed. You join him shortly after with your head resting on his chest and an arm thrown around his waist.

"I'm so exhausted," you yawn.

"Go to sleep, baby. I'm right here." Your husband places a hand over your wrapped arm, sending you off into a deep slumber.

Well this is just ironic. Almost 2 A.M. and you're wide awake.

What initially started as a nice, relaxing dream quickly turned into a terrible nightmare. In the dream, you woke up alone. Yoongi was gone. Jia was gone too. You can't exactly make sense of it, except for a vague memory of Jia calling another woman 'Mom'. You couldn't see her face very well, so it could've been anyone. You couldn't speak either, so even when you tried approaching the three, they couldn't hear you. You've had nightmares plenty of times, but this one is new. It's a clear projection of all the underlying concerns upheaved from earlier; insecurities, abandonment, loss, and it has you unsettled.

You glance over to your husband's side of the bed. He's fast asleep, no longer cuddling you due to you both flip-flopping in your sleep. You decide to slide closer to him, needing to watch him for a while. It might sound weird, but you love watching him sleep. He's so handsome and you feel a great deal of comfort doing so. Maybe if he was awake, you'd tell him about what you dreamt. Then again...maybe not.

"I love you Yoon," you whisper as quietly as you can, tracing his every facial feature with your eyes.

"'m, I love you too."

Is he-was he awake? As if caught red-handed, you quickly flit your face away in favor of the blank ceiling above. You weren't expecting him to answer at all, and in such a hoarse voice too. You're a little turned on by it to be honest.

"Can't sleep?" he speaks up again, eyes still closed.

"No, I''ll be okay though. You can go back to sleep. Don't worry."

He grunts, a tad unhappy with your dismissal of him. "Do you want to talk about it? Your dream?"

You whip your head in his direction. "How–" You pause, seeing his eyes blink open.

"I didn't meet you just yesterday, doll. I know they keep you up. Just know, I'm always here okay? Always." He reaches for you with delicate fingers as he continues. "Now, come here. Seems we got separated in our sleep."

You accept the offer and cuddle into him again. This time your noses nearly touch and his arm wraps around your lower waist. You feel the growing urge to kiss him, wanting to forget your nightmare entirely. But perhaps silly, you ask permission first, seeing as he's close to drifting off again.

"Yoon?"

"Mm."

"Can we kiss?" Your cheeks flush a little at the request. Why are you acting like this? You've been married for years.

"Sure, 'm tired but I could go for a make-out right now." A small smirk graces his lips as he teases you. You give him a classic 'Yoongi!' in reply. "I'm kidding. You don't ever have to ask me that," he finishes.

"Hmm, maybe I don't want a kiss anymore." You feign stubbornness, just to see his response. And a response he gives you, more than you're prepared for.

"You're ridiculous," he grumbles, capturing your lips in one fell swoop. He moves his lips against yours as the hand on your waist grips tighter. The tiniest of moans escapes your lips.

You attempt to break the kiss first, thinking it will only last for a few seconds. Yet Yoongi slips a hand behind your neck to bring you into another kiss. One that's deeper than the last. You feel your breath being taken away little by little, especially when his tongue licks into your mouth. God, you haven't kissed like this in an eternity. A wetness soon gathers between your thighs.

"'m, Yoon," you gasp when his cool fingers sneakily make their way under your shirt, tickling your bare skin. They travel the expanse of your waist, stomach, and up along your back. "So cold."

Yoongi pulls away from the kiss and retracts his fingers. He then lazily moves his body until his chest hovers over your own, rolling you on your back in the process. He's a bit of a blur due to the dimness of the room, yet you can see the whites of his eyes a bit better than before.

"Help me warm them then," he says, folding his hands on top of yours from where they rest on your stomach. "You're really burning up, doll."

His observation is right. Ever since you woke up, you're body's been hotter than normal. The stress is clear and it's only increasing due to the unexpected turn of tonight's events; your husband seemingly wanting to make love to you in the middle of the night.

"So I am," you reply, staring straight into his eyes. "Must be because of all the sudden surprises today. My body's finally responding to it all."

Yoongi nods, following your implication. "Well let's do something to calm it down, shall we?" He waits for your final go before making any abrupt movements.

"But...you haven't seen me–"

"Naked in a while?" he predicts your next words, unfazed. "I've seen it all, each time better than the last because I love you. You're beautiful to me, no matter what. Let me love you __. I've missed you. I've missed us."

"Okay...please," you sigh, desperately needing his touch. "It's been so long since we've been this close."

Neither of you has it in you to delay another second as you dive into another fiery kiss, your hands wandering up and down each other's bodies. You love his hair the most, so you run your fingers through it repeatedly. Your husband's soft grunts remind you that it's as pleasurable for him as it is for you, and as if to counter, he latches his lips to the curve of your neck.

"Yoon," you moan, shivering at the feeling of being peppered in open-mouth kisses. Your eyes automatically roll up as well.

Yoongi nips at your jaw next, featherlike, yet deadly to you nevertheless. He doesn't allow himself to linger more than a second, though, preferring to keep you on your toes. So with careful fingers, he begins lifting the bottom of your shirt.

"Can I?"

You hum in approval and lean forward for him to remove it.

With your nipples now exposed to the brisk air, stiffening due to arousal, Yoongi brings both his hands up to caress your boobs. He's incredibly gentle, telling you how beautiful you are once again until his thumbs start circling your peaked nipples. A rush of sensation shoots up your spine as he rolls them harder, flicking them once in a while.

"Fuck," you swear.

"Feeling good?"

All you do is nod fervently in response, which Yoongi takes as his signal to lower his head to your chest. He squeezes both breasts in his hand before wrapping his mouth around a nipple, licking and sucking relentlessly. He repeats the same to the other.

"Yoongi, I need you. Please." You're core tightens, thighs struggling not to rub together, as you plead with your husband to relieve you. You are so wet and getting wetter.

"I'm here, doll, I got you. Fingers first hm?"

He pushes part of the comforter towards the foot of the bed, then gestures for you to raise your butt. Any shred of mystery of how worked up he's gotten you slip away as he pulls your underwear and pants down your legs. They both get tossed on the floor, per usual.

Bare pussy exposed, Yoongi guides your legs further apart and brings a hand down to your entrance. One of his long, slender fingers traces up your folds so smoothly that you buck your hips upon the touch. He smiles lightly at the subtle response, pleased that you're finally enjoying yourself; too often you put your needs last. His finger slowly sinks into your well-lubricated pussy, velvety walls clenching around it.

"Oh, g-god," you give a shaky moan as his finger pumps and curls in you, stimulating your g-spot. "Need you now, Yoon, so bad."

"Mm not yet, we need to stretch you out. You haven't taken me for a good three or four weeks," he smirks at your eagerness, sliding a second finger next to the first. "This pussy is drenched but not enough. I need you to come. Can you do that for me?"

Fast, quick movements follow suit as your husband works you up to an orgasm. Oh fuck, oh fuck, you chant in near whines. Your pussy is spasming around him, walls tightening with each push and pull. You know when he draws his hand out that it's covered with your come. Messy, sex is messy and both of you are too far gone to care; the pleasure sweeping over you.

Finally, in what feels like an endless tease, you have your first orgasm of the night. You feel your body relaxing into the mattress again, yet your breath remains short. Yoongi, on the other hand, groans seeing your release dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. For a split second, there's a slight darkening in his eyes while he takes in your post-orgasmic form. The two fingers that had been inside you are sensually brought to his lips, slipping between the seam before being cleaned off.

You're taken aback by the action, though you've witnessed it before. Something about watching your husband willingly follow through with a gesture so lewd makes your head spin–you want him to fuck you right this instant. He must share the same feeling because you don't even need to sound the words due to his hands already making quick work of his pants.

"You drive me mad, you know that? Can never get a break with how sweet you taste. Your lips, your come. All of it makes me go mad." His full length comes in view, hard and tip leaking with pre-cum. You try not to let yourself stare at the thickness but hell, you must've forgotten the extent of your husband's size. You don't remember it being this big before.

"Well," you gulp. "You're not making it easy on me either, looking like this."

Yoongi climbs over to you again, settling into a straddled position, and looks deep into your eyes. "Who's fault do you think that is?"

"It's your fault." You bend your legs and wrap them around his mid-section. You can feel the tip of his cock tease at your entrance. The anticipation is beyond grueling.

"No," he says, aligning himself up to your weeping hole. "it's yours." He then thrusts his hips forward, his length sinking into you so perfectly it has you completely satisfied.

"Y-Yours," you whimper out, unable to form a steady sentence.

"Fine." He picks up his pace. "Let's just agree we both fuck each other up on a daily---ah fuck!" Yoongi growls and gives you a suspicious look when he feels your pussy suddenly clench around his length.

"I didn't do it on purpose this time! You're fucking me too good is all."

"Really? You're not just teasing me?"

Yoongi is slow to believe since you've purposefully clenched countless times before, simply out of playfulness. Tonight is different than those nights though because you're telling the truth–he's truly fucking you so good.

"What the hell," he concedes. "You feel so fucking fantastic, I don't even care." He continues his movements, thrusting into you with deep groans and labored breaths. His fingers grip the mattress harder with the veins in his neck bulging out.

Both your bodies move in sync as the familiar sound of skin slapping on skin echoes off the walls of your bedroom. You do your best to keep your moans low, not wanting to risk waking up your daughter.

"Yoon, fuck! I need to come, it's gonna-fuck-happen soon," you swear, pussy throbbing at the feeling of being so full after weeks of abstinence. You can tell you're reaching your high with the bundle of nerves in your core threatening to snap at any given moment.

Of course, you're wet too, extremely wet.

"I'm. Nearly. There." He barely sounds the words out, jaw clenching. "Just another minute, and we can finish together."

Your eyes, which haven't left his since he entered you, begin to glass over with tears. It's overwhelming; his love for you. No matter the doubts that tell you the opposite, you can't give in to their ugly lies. You'll continue to struggle, naturally, but you won't ever let them win. Yoongi's never once given up on you, and neither should you.

"I love you, Yoon...I love you with all my soul," you choke the words, falling apart all at once. "I'm sorry for today. How jealous and irrational I got."

"Don't apologize, doll. I shouldn't have let it go so far, our lack of intimacy and alone time. I promise we're going to make it all right okay?"

Giving you one last thrust, you both have your release at the same time. Yoongi helps ride your orgasm out by lazily continuing to grind into you. Yeah, you might need to shower and switch out the sheets after tonight, but you don't regret it one bit.

"In all seriousness baby," Yoongi speaks up, guiding your legs back on the soft mattress until you’re comfortable. "Don't feel like you have to apologize for everything. I understand your feelings and where you were coming from. I will say, the silent treatment kills me though. I'd rather you yell at me than not talk to me at all."

"It's not easy for me to raise my voice like that, Yoon." You throw your arms around his neck and sigh softly. "But I can try talking to you more, or at least tell you I need some time to process before I'm ready to have a conversation. I don't know, am I making sense?"

"Plenty of sense. I'll share more about my day with you and who I'm talking to as well. We'll also carve out time to have together. I love our daughter, but I don't see the harm in reaching out to our friends and family to babysit once in a while."

"Well, this sounds good to me," you hum.

"Me too." Yoongi smiles wide and goes in for another warm kiss. Your eyes flutter shut in unison.

This is what love feels like.

a/n: LMK what you think 🥰

Masterlist | Requests: closed | Taglist | Fic Recs

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

Guess who fell right smack back into BATFAMILY feelings hell?  Who has two thumbs and really thought they were truly out of the DC game, that it had been like ten years since they’d read a single comic, that they were finally safe from crying about stupid bats and birds?  Yeah, that’s right, this nerd.  And now I’m waking up and choosing violence on the rest of you by throwing every I’m Having Dick Grayson Feelings Fic at you that I can find, because this fandom is fantastic for it.   This list will skew towards my fave, but I hope there will be some good Jason, Tim, Damian, Cass, and Steph fic for anyone who wanders by for them!  You just have to scroll for a second first. I probably tend towards a slighty softer view than canon always provides (I will grab hold of Nightwing #100 with both hands and a death grip, though, and you can’t take Dick & Bruce hugs away from me now) but that’s what fic is for!  All the emotional resolution the source material cannot give us itself and I am GOING to inhale all of it like it’s oxygen and I’m on a run.  And then shove it at everyone I can while crying on them, too. BATFAM FIC RECS - BABY DICK IS THE CUTEST FERAL ROBIN I’M NOT HEARING ANY ARGUMENTS: ✦ Stay a Child by ijustwanttodestroy, dick & bruce & alfred, 2.2k      “Redo it,” Bruce orders. “Aw, come on!” Dick dares to pout — a thing that he uses often, and would work on anyone but Bruce and Alfred. Sometimes. Bruce gives him a look. “I’m not going to do it for you.” “I’m going to misdo it until you do,” Dick threatens. ✦ Sweater Weather by MashpotatoeQueen, dick & bruce, 2.2k      Dick Grayson is eight, Bruce Wayne is trying, and there’s a walk home in the rain. ✦ Hay Is for Horses by lurkinglurkerwholurks, dick & clark & cast, 2.7k      The sleepover had been Dick’s idea. In which Clark is a good but very overwhelmed uncle who is Trying His Best. ✦ Eye of the Storm by Janie__loops, dick & bruce & cast, de-aged!dick, 2.5k      Dick Grayson becomes once again a traumatized volatile murderous eight year old, and the only thing more surprising is how adept Bruce is at handling him. ✦ A Blur of Spinning Wheels by chinuplilpup, dick & bruce & alfred, 10.1k      Dick is on the chandelier. An eight year old. A genius gymnast, to be sure, but a child, small for his age and under Bruce’s legal care. On the chandelier. Twenty five feet above the ground, surrounded by glass and kept up by a single fifty-year-old chain bolted to the ceiling. Bruce is going to have to check his blood pressure after Dick is safe on the ground. ✦ The Flame and the Night: A Bedtime Story by WingFeathers, dick & clark, 1.8k      Dick’s thrilled to stay with the Kents, but they go to bed far too early for him to sleep. It turns out to be a job for Superman, who shows Dick the Kansas night sky and tells him a story from Krypton––a story about two gods, called Nightwing and Flamebird. ✦ (T)his Child by shanahane, dick & bruce & alfred, 2.1k      ”I’m here for the elephant,” Bruce says bluntly. ”Elephant?” Haly says. ”We haven’t had elephants in over two decades, what…?” ”The toy. That Dick left on his bed.” OR What wouldn’t Bruce do for… this child? ✦ 5 Times Dick Grayson was in the Newspaper Because of Bruce Wayne by Engineerd, dick & bruce & alfred & clark & cast, 4.7k      Batman and Robin are Gotham’s urban legends, and Bruce wants to keep it that way. “I know that,” Clark said. “But when Robin eventually goes officially public, I want to be the one that does the interview.” ✦ we don’t allow monsters in these walls. by thychesters, dick & bruce, 1.8k     New dad Bruce is still trying to figure things out with Dick. He’s not his dad, not his brother, he’s just … he’s B, the guy Dick runs around with at night fighting crime. He’s worried, and he’s scared, and he’s too protective. Tonight the protective side just won out. ✦ shades of monochrome by renecdote, dick & bruce & clark, 6.1k      He can’t even think, let alone think how to act. His brain is like a broken record, stuck on a loop of blood and ringing gunshots and Bruce is going to die. “It’s going to be okay,“ Alfred says. But it isn’t. How can it be? Dick takes a deep breath and screams for Clark as loud as he can. (The one where Bruce gets shot and Dick cries a lot.) BATFAM FIC RECS - ADULT BATSON AND BATDAD ARE MY KRYPTONITE, I FOLD LIKE WET CARDBOARD FOR THEM: ✦ Ghosts by fanfictiongreenirises, dick & bruce & batfam, 2.5k      “Nights like this, when everything was balanced on the edge of a knife, when Bruce could feel Gotham clawing at them with her claws, he could feel their gazes scraping his back.” Bruce waits for backup with an unconscious Nightwing tucked in his cape. ✦ When I Touch the Water by audreycritter, dick & bruce, 2.7k      Bruce is trying to deal with an old injury alone, and alone is exactly the opposite of how Dick Grayson is willing to let him handle it. But Bruce can’t really complain because it’s nice to see his son again and not fight for once. ✦ Making Time by CaptainOzone, dick & bruce & cast, 6.5k      Bruce does not remember anything leading up to this moment. He does not remember teaming up with Superman recently, nor does he remember being anywhere but Gotham proper. He does remember having Robin at his side. Robin, it turns out, is not there any longer. God does he hate magic. ✦ to love is not to leave by daringyounggrayson, dick & bruce, 1k      Dick called Alfred for a medical consult last night, so when he hears someone at his door, he’s not exactly surprised. What does surprise him is that the man who came to check in on him isn’t Alfred: it’s Bruce. ✦ Olive by Ptelea, dick & bruce, 1.5k      In which Dick and Bruce catch up in the kitchen sometime after episode 11, “Not It,” Dick peppers his speech with condiment-related puns, and Bruce is sort of amazed by his life sometimes. ✦ too lost and hurting to carry my load by daringyounggrayson, dick & bruce, 1.8k      Dick is sick and feverish, and those two things are forcing him to face some previously-stifled fears and insecurities. He really just needs someone to take care of him. ✦ No Other Songbird Like You by SilverSkiesAtMidnight, dick & bruce & damian, 8.5k      The difference between grappling off a building and free-falling off a building is actually a very small difference. Really, it’s just the difference between firing your gun before you jump, like Bruce always insisted on according to safety protocols, and firing after you jump, when it’s more fun. The fun way, ninety-nine times out of a hundred, is totally fine and has absolutely no consequences. ✦ mid-May’s eldest child by one_step_closer_to_death, dick & bruce, 1.2k      Dick’s sick and Bruce takes care of him. BATFAM FIC RECS - EVERYBODY LOVES DICK: ✦ Handle with Care by takadainmate, dick & bruce & damian, 3.4k      Dick is sick. Alfred isn’t around. Bruce and Damian do their best. Damian had known something was wrong. ✦ Off The Record by amathela, dick/donna, NSFW, 1.2k      Dick and Donna work off the aftereffects of a mission. ✦ Rejoice in Youth by FlashThroughLight, dick & bruce & tim & damian & jason & alfred, 6.1k      Dick has been regressed to the age of four, now Bruce and the rest of the family has to look after him until he returns to his rightful age. If Bruce thought teenage Dick Grayson was unruly, nothing could prepare for the storm that is Dickie Grayson. AKA Dick cons his family into giving him hugs. ✦ The Real in Funereal by lowflyingfruit, dick & damian & alfred & tim & jason & barbara & selina & cass & cast, 9.3k wip      Batman is dead. So is Bruce Wayne. And the Bat-family is struggling to cope, both publicly and privately. But crime in Gotham waits for no Bat, and like it or not, new grievances and old, the family must pick themselves up. Gotham needs its defenders, before their grief tears them apart. (Battle for the Cowl AU) ✦ Visions of Sugarplums by CamsthiSky, dick & bruce & damian, 3.7k      See, it happens like this. Everything’s normal for them all—or, well. As normal as a family full of vigilantes can get. But things are running smoothly. He keeps his head up and his ears open, though, because he may be able to move forward, but he isn’t stupid enough to think that he’s not going to hit a bump in the road. He always hits a bump in the road. He just hadn’t expected this. ✦ Safety First by SuperWhoLockianFangirl, bruce & dick/babs & dick/roy & dick/wally, 2.6k      Bruce Wayne can handle lunatics like the Joker without even flinching, but the hurtles of raising a teenage boy prove more daunting. When it comes time to give Dick the “Talk”, he has absolutely no idea what he’s doing. And unfortunately for him, he finds himself repeating the experience multiple times over the years. BATFAM FIC RECS - BATKIDS ALL HAVE MANY SIBLINGS AND THEY’RE ALL PETTY ASSHOLES AND/OR WONDERFUL BABIES AND I LOVE THEM WITH MY WHOLE BEING: ✦ Catch by Ptelea, dick & jason & tim & damian & bruce & cass & steph, 13.7k     Five times Dick caught one of the younger Bats, and one time he wasn’t the one to do so ✦ Stubborn by audreycritter, dick & jason & tim & damian & cast, 20.3k     Dick is usually the one taking care of everyone else and he’s bad at asking for help. So bad, in fact, that he never even actually asks– but Jason shows up anyway. And then Dick returns the favor. And then they both do for Tim. And it’s just going to keep going from there. It’s probably Alfred’s fault. When your butler mom calls and says, "Go check on your brother,” you don’t argue. You just do it. ✦ Without Question by lowflyingfruit, dick & jason & tim & damian & bruce, 6.2k     There is something very wrong with Dick at the moment. He’s doing everything Bruce says without a hint of protest. Tim’s going to get to the bottom of this. ✦ Ranking Robins by Beauty_In_Her_Darkness, dick & jason & tim & damian & bruce, 5k     Buzzfeed has been cranking out quiz after quiz about Gotham’s Bat-themed superheroes. When Jason shows them to his family, him and his brothers decide that not only should their adoring fans get to rank the Robins: Bruce should too. ✦ Carry by Ptelea, dick & jason, 4.9k     Whoever said, “He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother,” didn’t have to haul you around. ✦ a pointless resistance by emavee, bruce & dick & jason & alfred, time loop, 26.7k     It starts with a news report running in the background of a greasy little diner, but it ends with Dick dead. Except, it doesn’t stop there. It keeps on ending, over and over. Bruce’s son keeps dying, and nothing he does seems to make any sort of difference. ✦ while you see it your way by irnan, bruce & dick/babs & tim & cass & damian & alfred, 4.5k     Wherein Damian acts his age for once, and - to the astonishment of absolutely no one - it’s all Bruce’s fault. ✦ Manor-Dad lets me drive the Batmobile by loosingletters, bruce & dick & jason & tim & cass & steph & damian & duke & cast, 21.2k wip     Bruce had two options when Dick found the Cave. 1) Tell him the truth. 2) Go along with Dick’s excited “You’re dating Batman!” until he figured out the truth. Several children later Bruce wished he’d gone with option 1) or he wouldn’t have to deal with all his kids believing he and Batman were separate people. ✦ Bomb Sing Se by Cephalogod, dick & jason & tim & cass & steph & damian, 2.2k     The thing was…it wasn’t actually the worst idea. (The bombs in the gauntlets part; Jason had vocally disapproved of every aesthetic decision Dick had ever made since they were teenagers, Dick wasn’t going to start listening to him about that now.) ✦ Above Any Price by centreoftheselights, dick & jason & tim & damian, 1.6k     Dick gets the news that Jason has been taken hostage. This time, he’s going to save his brother. ✦ Upside Down by withthekeyisking, dick & jason, de-aged!dick, 2.1k     Something that was not on Jason agenda for the night, but somehow now is: take care of the de-aged version of his big brother, who is—in his tiny mind—apparently running away from juvie. Because, sure. Why the fuck not. ✦ straight up, what did you hope to learn about here by irnan, bruce & dick & damian & barbara & jason (background dick/babs), 3.8k     (or: Three Conversations Dick Grayson Has About Jason Todd, That One Time A Couple Years Ago When Jay Was Dead, And How Talia Al Ghul Is Why Dick Can’t Have Nice Things.) ✦ Now Comes Good Sailing by geminus_17, dick & jason, 2.3k     Dick and Jason escape to Walden Pond and have a healing talk about the meaning of life and death, and insult Henry David Thoreau. ✦ on the other side by MermaidMarie, dick & jason & tim, 3.6k     In which Tim and Jason are staying up all night in the hallway, after Dick gets his memories back. ✦ Control Alt Delete by audreycritter, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & stephanie & riddler, 1.9k     Sometimes the only way to solve an impossible riddle is to give up. ✦ Extension by smilebackwards, tim/kon & dick & jason & bruce, 5.9k     Tim’s going to need to learn to be less conspicuous about this hopeless crush he’s developed; he lives with an entire family of detectives. Or: Tim has a crush on Conner and everyone has something to say about it. BATFAM FIC RECS - JASON TODD IS AN ASSHOLE CAT, I’M GONNA THROW HIM AT DICK BECAUSE IT’S FUNNY (AND MAYBE SOME OF HIS OTHER SIBLINGS TOO): ✦ The 70 Days After Groundhog Day by Ptelea, dick & jason & batfam, time loop, 43.9k      There’s a time loop that only Jason remembers. It acts as a catalyst for changes within the family. Some arguments, some misunderstandings, some bonding, some healing, and quite a lot of conversations that mostly take place over food. Dick POV, focused on Dick and Jason but with the other Bats around and very present. ✦ Fair is Fowl by Lysical, dick & jason & batfam, 4.3k      Dick Grayson is visiting the Manor. Jason Todd has the chickenpox. They might not be brothers, but maybe they can get along for one evening. ✦ Ensemble Performance by lowflyingfruit, jason & damian & batfam, 4.8k      Damian has a deep, dark secret he needs kept from Grayson, his father, and most of all Drake, at all costs: he has, quite unwillingly, been volunteered for a part in his school’s annual musical. As a grouchy dinosaur. This is now Jason’s problem. Or his blackmail opportunity. Whichever. ✦ Home Intrusion by daedalusdavinci, dick & jason & cast, 7.2k      There are moments when the… everything of Dick’s life catches up with him, and exhaustion sinks deep into his skin. However, when he goes dark on everyone else, Jason doesn’t quite get the memo. Rules never seem to apply to little brothers. After two weeks of little more than clipped texts, Jason shoves his way into Dick’s life and gets him up and moving again. BATFAM FIC RECS - DICK AND DAMIAN WERE THE BEST BATMAN & ROBIN, I’M NOT HEARING ARGUMENTS ABOUT THAT EITHER: ✦ 3:16 by partingxshot, dick & damian & alfred & stephanie & cast, 70.7k      The knife pushes thin along Dick’s carotid artery, cupping the indent between neck and jawline—forcing him to angle his chin. The metal is warm, pulled with execution speed from under Damian’s pillow. “Okay,” Dick says quietly, tracking the intricacies of his own heartbeat—counting the space between breaths. “Guess I did need a shave.” (With faltering steps, Dick and Damian become Batman and Robin.) ✦ The R Stands for – by Cirth, dick & damian & bruce & talia, 5.8k      Damian pretends to focus on lacing up his boots as his father tugs Drake to his side, plants a gruff, casual kiss in his hair. Drake’s lips curl into a pleased smile, and Damian yanks the strings so hard his palms burn. ✦ The Rule Stands by Engineerd, dick & damian & bruce & tim & alfred, time travel, 11k      Damian meets a 10-year-old Dick Grayson, and they become best friends. ✦ this tiny little space by Alienu, dick & damian, 2.1k      The landing on his fire escape is nearly silent. Nearly. ✦ waiting for the tides to meet by partingxshot, dick & damian, 2k      Grayson behaves like this sometimes: like Damian needs to be protected. It twists his stomach in sharp and unfamiliar ways. “You leave, then!“ Damian spits. "I’ll—I’ll track Clayface on my own.” Another shudder takes him. The pain floods him all over again. It doesn’t matter: he won’t cry out. The rain pelts the dumpster behind him. It pools in cracks in the concrete. ✦ the city without stars in its skies by Alienu, dick & damian & batfam, 18.5k      (Or, in a world where he was never sent to live with his father, Damian al Ghul is contracted to assassinate one Dick Grayson.) ✦ Catch Me (All Records Indicate) by Engineerd, dick & damian & batfam, 9.5k      Damian had studied each of his father’s prior proteges briefly before he’d left the League of Assassins. Somehow, Grayson in person is nothing like Grayson on paper. OR “Are you sure you can catch me?” Grayson asked. Damian could hear his heart beating. He wasn’t sure. “Yes,” he answered anyways. ✦ Even in the Midst of Grief by Ellegrine, dick & damian, 4.3k      Richard Grayson has never hurt Damian. It’s unforgivable that anyone should believe otherwise. BATFAM FIC RECS - TAKE THE ANGST DIAL, TURN IT UP TO ELEVEN, AND BREAK THE KNOB OFF, MAKE ME CRY ABOUT BATS AND BIRDS, THAT’S WHAT I’M HERE FOR: ✦ Second Generation by lowflyingfruit, dick & bruce & tim & barbara & jason & alfred & cass & cast, aftermath of rape + depression, 108.9k      Nine months after the ‘Blockbuster Incident’, a call from Lockhaven Penitentiary regarding Catalina Flores brings all Dick Grayson’s plans for his future in Bludhaven crashing down. Thrust suddenly into parenthood and hiding what happened to make him a parent in the first place, Dick must decide, adjust, and accept - and no matter what, the family has to pull together to help him. ✦ Savior Complex by Arwriter, dick & bruce & barbara & tim & jason & damian & alfred & cast, 11.6k      “All I did was disappoint you.” He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t catch his breath. “I just wanted to do good. I just wanted to be better and all I did was make everyone angry.” Or: When Bruce comes back from the dead, Dick goes nonverbal. Nobody seems to have the time to notice. ✦ Essential Actions by CKBookish, dick & clark & bruce & wally & cast, 8.8k      Clark shifted his weight making the floorboards creak and groan under his feet. “Dick I hate to see you–” He paused searching for the right word. Dick snorted. “Wallow?” Clark sighed. “That’s not what I was going to say.” “I know. I can go to the barn and hang out there if I’m bothering you and Lois.” Dick pushed himself up. Of course he should have thought of that. Lois didn’t want some random teen laying around her home on Christmas Eve. Dick’s first Christmas without Bruce after he’s fired. ✦ The Night It All Came Crashing Down by chibi_nightowl, dick & jason, rape aftermath/read the tags, 4k      After a difficult night on patrol, memories Dick would much rather forget come to the surface. Thankfully, Jason’s there to catch him before he falls. ✦ The Winter of Our Discontent by BloodFromTheThorn, dick & bruce & jason & tim & alfred, 10.2k      Why did criminals always think that the best time to make a disturbance was in the middle of winter? Between the snow, Clayface and Scarecrow, Dick’s having a really bad day. It really doesn’t help that Batman’s late. ✦ The Universe Doesn’t Get to Take This by fishfingersandjellybabies, dick & bruce & damian, 1.9k      “And they’re so important that you don’t come home to check on your recently un-amnesiac brother? And here, I thought I was your favorite.” BATFAM FIC RECS - THROW BABY DICK AT BATTISON, C'MON DO IT, IT’LL BE HILARIOUS: ✦ In This or Any Other Universe by wildsofmarch, dick & bruce & alfred, 33.4k      Dick Grayson (DCU) accidentally lands himself in Battinson’s Gotham. ✦ I’m a Good Pretender by shipNslash, dick & bruce & alfred, 40.4k      Dick’s mother raised her son to be a star. Dick’s father raised his son to be an athlete. Bruce’s new ward is charming (manipulative), dedicated (obsessive), and way, way too smart for either of their own good. ✦ take these broken wings and learn to fly by fishingclocks, dick & bruce & alfred & cast, 45.5k wip      or, How Dick Grayson Burrowed His Way Inextricably into the Heart of Bruce Wayne ✦ i turned around, there was nothing there by lwbones123, dick & bruce & alfred, 3.1k      the batman got me thinking about battinson with a robin. this is that. ✦ Robin’s Light by iammadeofmemories, dick & bruce, ~1k      ‘Lies still’. Murder weapon still missing, Why riddles? Why leave a code? And why— “B! Whatcha working on?” or, in which I throw nine-year-old Dick Grayson at Battinson.

Babysitter - Matthew Sturniolo x Y/n Oneshot

warnings - fluff, kissing, swearing,

also read ‼️‼️: name change on the daughter just because this fic is not where y/n is the biological mother, but i am going to keep estrella and mailo for when y/n and matt are biological parents.

—————————

7:39am

I wake up to my phone blaring from a call, contact name says ‘The dad of the kid i start babysitting’

Hoping i’m not late i check the time, it’s only 7:40, my job wasn’t supposed to start till 11.

I pick up the phone, “Hello?” I asked in the most not tired voice possible.

“Hey, uh this is y/n right?” Matt asks.

"Yeah, you're Mr.Sturniolo right?"

Matt chuckles, "Please call me Matt, i'm not old."

"Of course, Matt. So what's up?” I rub my eyes and get out of bed as i keep my phone against my ear.

“I’m sorry this is such late notice but do you think you would be able to get here before eight?” He asks.

I let out a small sigh.

“Okay that’s okay i can just be late-”

“Wait what? No! Sorry i’m trying to find a shirt to wear.” I laugh in embarrassment.

“Oh okay great, see you at eight?” Matt confirms.

“See you at eight.” I hang up the phone.

—————————

7:58am

I ended up picking grey cargo pants with a plain white sweatshirt.

I walked up to the given address, nice ass house by the way. I walk up to the font door and knock, the door opens and it reveals a brown haired man, bright blue eyes and stubble on his cheeks, covering his jaw, he was wearing black jeans and a black t shirt. He looked like he was really young so i thought there was no way he could be a whole ass dad

I look at the number again, it said 434.

“Sorry, i might have the wrong ho-” The man cuts me off.

“Wait you’re y/n?” He asks, sort of in disbelief, looking me up and down.

“Yeah, uh- babysitting?” I laugh.

“Oh okay, i’m sorry you look young.” He says, opening the door for me to walk in as i do so.

“Says the teenager.” I joke.

He looks down and laughs, “You’re totally right. Flora!? Come down here please!” Matt yells, a little girl that looks almost exactly like Matt runs down the stairs.

“What did I say about running down the stairs?” Matt scolds as the little girl, presumably Flora hugs his leg.

She had brown fluffy hair that went all the way down to her belly button.

She had blue eyes and was milk white like Matt.

“Sorry daddy.” She hugs his leg as he ruffles her hair.

“I’m gonna ignore it just because we have a guest and daddys running late. This is y/n, she will be hanging out with you for the day while daddy works.” He tells her, i give a small wave and she smiles at me but continues holding onto his leg.

“She’s usually shy at first, actually she might be shy the whole time, she gave my last babysitter a really hard time so i’m so sorry if today is trouble, and what time is it?” He glances at the clock, “Shit. I mean- Flora don’t say that word i really gotta-”

“Okay, Matt you can go, i’m sure we will be fine.” I smile.

Matt takes a break, “Uhm- Right, right. I’m so sorry, y/n. I really didn’t think they were gonna call me in this early-” I cut matt off as he apologizes again.

“Matt seriously, it’s fine. I don’t mind at all. Go ahead.” I laugh.

“Right, right. Okay,” Matt bends down and puts his arms out for Flora, she wraps her arms around his neck.

“Okay, daddy will see you later okay? Love you baby.” He kisses her cheek and quickly leaves the house.

Flora walked towards the window, watching Matt pull out of the driveway.

“It must be hard when dad leaves.” I start, “I know what that’s like, it must hurt, huh?” I ask.

She just nods and stares at the now empty driveway with just my car now.

“Daddy said I was born really early, while he was still in school. But then Mama left so he said he had to quit.” She says, her voice quiet.

“Yeah, it must be tough. How old are you, Flora?” I ask her.

She puts up a five on one hand and a three on the other.

“eight years old? Wow!” I fake gasp.

“So when do you start highschool? Next year maybe?” I ask her, she looks at me and giggles but shakes her head.

“Nooooo!” Flora drags out.

“Really? So you’re already in highschool?” I ask as she giggles some more.

“No silly! I’m in 3rd grade!” She says.

“Oh no way!” I laugh too.

—————————

6:24pm

I look at our two drawings.

“What is that?” Flora points to mine.

I hesitate for a second, “I thought we were drawing dogs..”

“We were supposed too. But that’s not a dog.” She shakes her head, almost disappointed.

I gasp, “Okay one more round, now let’s do cats.”

Matt’s Pov

I walk inside and take my jacket off. Sighing as i rub my forehead. Expecting the house to be trashed and the babysitter to be gone, (that’s happened before) but instead I hear laughs and giggles come from the kitchen.

“That’s not a cat!” I hear Flora yell.

“I promise it is!” I hear Y/n speak now.

I hear Flora giggle at Y/n’s response.

I walk into the kitchen and look at a bunch of papers and crayons scattered everywhere on the kitchen table.

Flora looks up first, “Daddy!” She yells, running up and hugging me.

“Hey baby!” I smile, leaning down and kissing her head while hugging her.

She hugs me tightly before letting go.

“I had lots of fun daddy!” Flora yells.

“That’s great! why don’t you go play while i talk to y/n?” I suggest.

“Okay.” She sighs before running to her play room.

Y/n smiles at me as she starts to put away the crayons. She was actually really pretty.

“So how’d today go?” I ask her, helping her clean up the papers.

“It was great actually, i think she likes me but im not gonna jinx it.” She laughs.

“she seems like she loves you.” I smile, “Does that mean you’ll stick around?” I half joke, half serious.

She looks up at me, stopping her movements. “Of course, i’m not going anywhere.” She continues to put the crayons away as she finishes.

“See you saturday, Mr. Sturniolo.” She says, saying bye to flora before leaving.

—————————

1 month later

9:35pm sunday

I was cleaning up after i made dinner for alora and i, Matt had a party for influencers to go to. I didn’t mind staying longer, in fact i liked it. Made me feel less lonely.

I put Flora asleep about an hour ago, she insisted to wait up for matt but i stroked her hair a little and she fell right asleep.

Honestly i had a fat crush on matt, he was 25, and im 23, thats perfect, he is a beautiful man anyway.

I was in the kitchen when i heard the front door open. I was wiping down the counters and i see Matt.

“Hey, how was your night?” I asked him.

He nodded and put his keys down on the table, “it was good.. good..” He trails off, “what about you?” He asks as he watches my movements as i wipe the counters.

“It was great. Flora is asleep now, i told her that if she went to bed you’d be here to see her in the morning.” I smile at him as he continues staring at me, i throw the now dirty paper towel away.

“Okay, so i made pasta which i put in a container for you, it’s in the fridge, and i also packed Floras lunch for school tomorrow because i figured you would be too tired to pack it.” I told him, he just stared at me.

“Are you okay matt?” I asked him.

He clears his throat and looks down, fiddling with his fingers, “Um, yeah yeah, of course. thank you so much you do a lot and have done a lot this past month, so thank you for that.”

“I mean of course, i love flora and y- i love taking care of her.” I catch myself.

“Right.” Matt nods, looking around the room in awkwardness, which has never happened before.

“Yeah, right so i’m gonna go now.” I smile.

“Or maybe you don’t have too…” Matt trails off, i give him a confused look, but he walks up to me, and gets real close. “You should stay..” Matt breathes out, he got so close to where his lips were almost hovering over mine.

“I can..” I swallow harshly and nod. “I can stay..” I whisper.

“Good.” He mutters before he leans in and kisses me, it catches me by surprise but i immediately kiss back, my hands going around his neck as his go around my waist.

He hums into the kiss and bites my lip, making me let out a soft gasp and matt takes his chance in sticking his tongue in my mouth. I moan against his lips as he presses me against the counter.

“Daddy?” We pull away from the kiss to see flora.

—————————

i know this is such a bad ending but this is probably the last i’m posting till the weekend so i just wanted to get it done because i feel bad for like disappointing you guys.

taglist: @sturniolosmind

BELL JARS AND BUTTERFLIES !

ft. infinite darkness!leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. emotional abuse, mom-son incest, power dynamics, sub leon, some references to past physical abuse not explicit tho, few drug references, p in v

note. hai :3 put id leon cuz that’s who i saw but!!! u can think ab whoever u want :3 thank u to @devilmayfuck for proofreading oh my gosh :3 still ignore mistakes bc I tend to make em while formatting! feedback n rbs so appreciated <3

tumblr removes fics that, for example, use tw non-con and any nsfw tags in general from the tags. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

It’s no surprise that Leon breached contract and put his dick in his shrink. He tends to do these things around women that sound like school teachers. To be fair, the contract wasn’t his to breach, she’s totally taking advantage of his vulnerability or whatever.

“You still live with your mother, Leon?” It’s a statement, not a judgement, he takes offence either way.

“She’s sick,” Leon says, and it’s a bold-faced lie, they both know that she, his shrink, has his file. That you’re well and alive. He doesn’t like to talk about you to her. Mainly because what you have done to him is private, no one else needs to know, it’s the only thing no one knows about him— The only thing that’s not written across his dossier in bright red is that he and mommy have a less than sound relationship. It’s the only thing that is his.

“Sick?” She’s not much older than you, and she’s not as beautiful as you.

“Sick,” He confirms, and it’s not far from the truth. Physically sick, nah, but Mommy might be, she certainly is, the biggest narcissist Leon has encountered in all twenty-eight years of his shitty life, and that says something. ‘Cause Leon works with the US government. He’s owned by them, actually, to say he’s working would be a lie— He’s been owned all his life, first by mommy, then by work, and Leon has started to think it’s always going to be this way. That it’s okay because he doesn’t have to dissect, ache and hurt like he does when he’s thinking.

When she tries to probe further, as it is her job, her duty, in the same way it is Leon’s duty to save the world on any old Monday, he leaves. The apartment is his by lease, but Leon has never stayed long enough to call it a home, he’s never considered it anything more than where you are.

His fist knocks against the lacquered wood, and you answer a minute or so later. It doesn’t suit you. Trying to fit in with all the D.C career women, prim and polished and intelligent, that’s just not you. At your core, mommy is trailer trash through and through. Your smile is artificial, and your nightgown is too, it’s ill-fitting, the only thing you’ve worn well is his father’s anger. Leon thinks that if he wasn’t so full of the milk of compassion, whatever it is Lady Macbeth said, he would help you out. Show you what you’re truly worth. Unfortunately, all Leon would like, all he has ever wanted, is his mommy.

“Leon,” Your concern comes sparingly, so he takes what he can, head dropping to your shoulder. He melts. You’re about as friendly as a loaded gun, but Leon’s got suicidal tendencies and all that jazz. “Baby, what happened? You look so thin, my goodness, you must weigh less than me.” It’s true, looks like he weighs seventy pounds soaking wet. Skin stretched thin over his bones. Teetering from left to right on ankles so thin they’re ready to snap. “What’s this? Looks expensive.” Your eyes sparkle as you take in his appearance, tracing the fabric of his Armani tie with tenderness you have never given to him.

“Ma,” Leon mumbles into your neck, he stumbles past the threshold and the door clicks shut behind him. All he wants is a kiss or two.

“Leon,” You say his name the way you did before, “That’s not my name, darling, you used to be such a good boy.”

“Mommy,” He corrects himself, it’s always been mommy and no one else, “I’m sorry for— I’m sorry for leaving.”

“It’s not your fault, baby,” Whether he comes or goes, you don’t care, your flippant nature drives him insane. “You’re too much like your father.”

He is not. If Leon was anything like that man, more scum than blood and flesh and bones, your face would be in the concrete. But Leon is your son, and he is who you’ve made him to be. Cowardly. “I’m sorry,” The words dry up in his mouth when your nails rake down his clothed chest, a soft whine slips from the base of his throat, like he’s a dog. Then you scratch behind his ear, and he really is a dog, tail between his legs and everything.

“Oh, my poor baby,” Mommy says, and you pout at him— Did you get your lips done? The money wired over to your account is for necessities. He’s a civil servant, there's nothing classy about that. You piss him off. You do. But you’re his mommy, and he loves you.

The bed smells like you, it was his once, but you take over every aspect of his life. Eat away at any part of him that isn’t appropriate by your terms, a vetting process harsher than the DSO’s. Now Leon’s here, faced with the same hole he crawled out of. The same hole he wishes to crawl back inside. It was safe in there. Warm and quiet. Darkness cradling him like you never have. The one place in which he cannot move, speak or be. The closet he can get to that is stuffing his dick inside.

“Outside clothes on my bed,” You tut, lifting back the covers so you can undress him, “What’s this?” In your hand is an orange tube that you’ve swiped from his back pocket. Leon blinks as you squint at the label. “Oh, darling, you don’t need these, let mommy keep them safe, alright?” Leon nods. That was a new prescription, paroextine, fluoxetine made him a smidge less suicidal, meaning instead of wanting to drive his car off the side of a bridge anytime he got in, he simply drove without a seatbelt in hopes of being crushed to death by a thirty-two tonne truck. Natural selection or whatever. Side effects were shakes, to the point where Sherry was worried he went and got himself put down in the Guinness World Records Book as the youngest recorded case of Parkinson’s disease.

“I need those, ma,” His voice breaks when you tuck them into your bedside cabinet, facing him with your beautiful, cruel smile.

“You don’t need them, Leon,” You gesture for him to come closer, he does, presses his face into your tits, and lets you tell him what’s right and wrong. When it’s coming from you it will always be wrong, but he’ll listen anyway. “It’s not real, baby, you know that, don’t you? I thought you were smarter than this— Shouldn’t be wasting all your money on therapy of all things, I mean, you go to talk for an hour and that supposedly makes everything better?”

“Mm,” Leon makes a noise that is both a grunt and a hum. Please, for the love of god, shut up and get him off— Do something. Hold him. Comfort him. You’re his mother.

“Then they want you to take all these pills-“

“They’re meds, ma,” He corrects for the sake of his— Well, for the sake of nothing at all. Not his ego, not his dignity, they have been depleted completely.

“Meds, huh? You can get addicted fast, and then next minute you know, darling, you won’t be able to function without them- You’ll be like a zombie.” You kiss the top of his head, cooing softly when he raises his head to look up at you like the sad, wet dog he is.

“It’s not crack, ma.”

I know you wish it was.

For an indolent lady who spent half her time doped up on what could only be described as sludge, putting morphine in his milk bottle, you do talk a lot of shit.

“Hah,” Your face changes, you laugh anyway, “You’re so funny, Leon.” You tell him, and he thinks, obsessively, that he would do anything to hear that laugh again.

“Thanks, ma,” Leon’s unrest is mollified by the featherlight touch of your hand on his bare chest, your nail drags down his sternum, as if you’re splitting him in half. It digs into the toughness of his abdomen, he squirms, “That feels weird,” He mumbles, unable to voice out his dislike properly.

“Leon,” You sigh heavily, heavier than his cock in his briefs, “You don’t feel anything, my sweet thing, you’re all empty inside.” He’s a bell jar waiting for its butterfly.

“My poor baby, look at you, can’t do anything without mommy.” Without mommy Leon doesn’t know how to be a real person.

“Can’t eat,” You trace his ribs, sticking out in odd angles through a yellowed layer of skin, “Can’t sleep,” The hollows of his face, his sunken eyes, they tell you everything, “Can’t even breathe without me, can you Leon?” Without mommy he has to be kicked in the gut so his lungs remember what it’s like to breathe. He has to constantly be on the verge of death to know what it’s like to live. “It’s so tiring, darling, I’m too old to be taking care of you.”

“Mommy,” Leon pleads, helplessly, the only manner in which he can behave is helpless.

“Baby,” You toy with his waistband, “You need mommy to help you feel, don’t you?” Feeling should be innate to a human being, shouldn’t it? “Even when you were a baby, Leon, you only cried when mommy did, I used to think it was sweet, but now, darling, it’s gotten a little old.”

Leon whines softly, animal-like, caught by the ankle like a hunted stag, “I’m sorry, mommy— I can’t help it.”

“Oh, it can’t be helped, Leon,” Mommy says impassively, because it is such a chore to jerk off your mentally stunted almost thirty-year-old son. It’s not his fault. He didn’t choose to be this sex-mongering freak that needs to be punished to get off, to not feel ill— To be alive. You started it, and Leon’s sure you’ll end it. Brought him into this world, and you’ll take him right back out of it. At the drop of a hat too.

Your nail, red and glossy and a tad too sharp, presses into his leaking slit. One hand curled around his jaw, the other down his pants. You fish his cock from his boxers, “Mommy was waiting for you,” That makes his chest ache, knowing that he had crossed your mind even once for just a split second, god, he could die a happy man, “Every time you leave I get so worried, I start thinking, well, gosh, how is my Leon doing without his mommy?”

Bad. He does bad in general. Around you it’s bad. He is entirely bad at all times, at every minute, every passing second. With you it’s less bad.

“I just miss you,” Leon says, helplessly beyond help.

“All the time?”

“All the time,” He agrees.

“Oh, baby,” You coo.

“Do you… Did you miss me?” He asks, breathless, twisting in your grip like he’s fitting. Your touch is a million pinpricks on exposed nerves. There's no answer, you just stroke his dick instead, and his moan shatters like an ice fractal. Leon wants to ask and beg and demand— He turns stupid too quick when you cup his balls, squeeze ‘em hard.

“So noisy,” Mommy spits on her palm, real classy, a bit of your whore heritage comes out— See that, it’s a real Kennedy move, dad would be proud. Then you get his cock nice and wet, pumping his shaft as he leaks through the gaps in your fingers. “My sweet boy, you used to be so cute. I miss when you were blonde— It happened to your dad too, it’s a shame.”

“Sorry,” Leon says as if it is his fault natural progression took place, his hips bucking upwards into your fist, schlick, schlick, schlick.

“Well, there’s no need to be sorry about it, you can’t do anything about it, Leon,” Well, at least you’re sane enough to know that, “You know what you can do, darling?”

He shakes his head, abs contracting, balls tightening, ready to blow—

“Clean up before you come to see me,” Your hand is gone, his dick twitches like there’s a parasite inside of it waiting to burst out, “I’m not stupid, Leon,” Your palm sits on his cheek, looking at his stubble with distaste, “And you should shave, look too much like your dad otherwise.”

The scruff is purely out of neglect for his appearance. Leon has never put much thought into it, no one’s ever complained, he’s fuckable. Very fuckable. So fuckable— It’s just you. Mommy says and Leon scrambles to do.

“Off you go then,” You shoo him away, force him to pick his discarded clothes off the floor, he tosses them in the laundry basket. His shrink left the print of her brown foundation on his collar— That’s what you meant by clean up.

In the bathroom cabinet he finds a packaged razor covered in a film of dust. His hand is shaking, nicks his chin once, the sting is not half as bad as your touch. When Leon returns, the nightgown is off, folded neatly on the side, he almost trips over getting to you.

“Mommy,” Leon mumbles around a mouthful of tit, like a proper stupid baby, dumbed-down to fit mommy’s taste.

“I know, baby,” You kiss the crown of his head, stroking over until your fingers toy with the hair at the nape of his neck, “Oh, there is just nothing inside of you but that big ol’ heart, huh?” It’s true. He’s empty but his heart. A heart that turns on its hind legs, rolling over onto its back for mommy and mommy only.

Leon hums, suckling on your nipple like he’s going to get milk out of it. “Can I—“ Leon lifts his head, ducks back down to avoid your scathing gaze.

“Can you what, baby?” You thumb his bottom lip, nail grazing his teeth.

“I want to fuck you,” He says, because he would like to fuck you.

“That’s not how you talk to mommy,” You go to push him off, but Leon shakes his head, and he is stronger— He is, he pins you down, presses his face into your neck. An apology that you accept.

“I’m sorry, mommy,” He’s trembling, “I’m sorry… I’m sorry, didn’t mean to talk like that— I’m sorry, please, can we-“

“Fine,” You cut in, and he knows that mommy is a slut. More so than him. That you want it just as bad, you just like playing games.

Leon’s lips part when the tip of his fat cock sinks into your heat. He wishes that your hole would gape like the maw of a beast and swallow him up David Cronenberg style. Wouldn’t that be so fun?

There’s a falter in your breath when he bottoms out with a squelch. You try to be this way, so unaffected, but Leon knows that you’re a glutton for cock. Not his alone, which crushes him, any old dick would do for his mom. It’s how she got by way back when.

“I love you,” Leon moans into your mouth when let him kiss you for the first time tonight, he savours it, lets the taste linger, “I love you, mommy.”

You loop your arms around his neck, pull him closer so his cock is deeper, hitting your cervix with the fat head. The most he can do in your grip is move his hips back and forth shallowly, never allowing more than an inch out of your sweet cunt. It’s suffocating and yet he loves it. Your love is a cage. Contains him. Leon licks the droplet of salty sweat that trickles down between your tits, he spurs his hips forward, fucks you with all that he’s got— This is all he’s good for, just good to give you your fill of dick. That’s why you had a son.

“You can do it better than that, Leon,” You’re panting, eyes glassy as you smile your gorgeous smile at him, “I know you can.”

With a grunt, he fucks you with fervour, balls slapping against your ass, all the nasty shit you love. His dick jumps inside of you, and you gasp, biting down on your tongue as he slams into you once, twice, thrice— Oh, it's so over. Leon can’t help it. Mommy’s pussy is so warm, so hot and wet and tight. Your disappointment is tangible. No need to hide it.

We can work on that, his shrink usually says to mask her annoyance at his premature ejaculation.

Mommy just shakes her head while frowning.

“I’m sorry, mommy,” Leon’s body jolts, hips still moving despite the oversensitivity, his cum makes your cunt sloppier. He fucks it back into you like the filthy boy— man he is, so set on making you come undone that it comes across as a little freakish. Like he’s in a trance or some shit. “I’m so- I’m so sorry, mommy— Didn’t mean to— Fuck, I’m sorry, sorry—“

“Leon, stop that,” You place a hand on his chest. He stops. Leon is good at that. Taking instruction no matter how life-threatening, no matter how embarrassing, he’ll do it to be worth something.

“I’m so sorry,” He croaks, truly humiliated by his dick’s lack of selflessness. Shit just cums without Leon telling it to do so.

Mommy pats his head, “It’s okay, baby, you’re only a stupid little boy, aren’t you?”

Leon nods. Mhm. Mhm. Yup. Yup. That he is. Mommy’s stupidly depraved little boy. Just makes sense.

God, yes. “Yes, mommy,” Leon finds himself face to face with your cunt. One that popped him out. A well-beaten yet pretty pussy, because all of you, to Leon, is beautiful no matter how worn out. He parts your cushioned lips, teeth tugging at your labia as he dribbles his spit over your fat pussy. His cum sticks to your inner-thighs, a shiny trail that dries up before he can lick it up and spit it back onto your puffy cunt.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling at his hair till he’s sure the roots have weakened and now he’s even more prone to male pattern baldness than he was before. Leon focuses his attention on your clit, it’s small and fleshy on the tip of his tongue, the more he sucks the more you drip drop and fill his mouth with your slick. Crazy that is. The clit. It’s just a gift that keeps on giving. And it's good both ways. Leon gets to quell that urge, the sucking on a tit urge, and mommy cums so hard her thighs snaps shut around his head. Your back bows off the bed, and god dammit is he proud.

With the lower half of his face covered in your wetness, Leon re-emerges to kiss you. “That’s enough, darling,” You tell him after the fifth and final kiss. He holds onto it. He just wants you, his mommy. Is it so bad to want?

“I love you, mommy,” Leon says for what might be the third or hundredth time of the night.

“I know, darling,” Your nose bumps his, “I did miss you, Leon, if I’m being honest.”

“Really, mommy?” His heart skips a beat or two. God, it might’ve fucking stopped. Then he’d just be a doll of some sort. The rarest collectors doll that mommy could put in a glass case and show off and dust off— Well, to think she’d care enough to dust him off, Leon has a bit of an overactive imagination.

“Really, darling.” Mommy nods, and he’ll take it. He’ll take it and treasure it.

Evangeline

Barbie dolls: dean Winchester x fem!you

Summary : basically the Lisa plot but like not though you hid your baby from Dean for years before being like “hey check out this kid we made”

Warnings: pregnancy, birth described by a person who has only watched like three birth videos, talks of religion? This is supernatural the last like eight seasons are about god come on guys, I named the kid sorry, not the kids name is sorry like you get it, it’s fem reader I’m sorry, um so much dialogue oh my god these bitches don’t shut up, happish ending but majority pained Dean, I think that’s it

Request: no. Also my inbox is open guys

You hunted with the Winchester boys for years. You loved them both very much and trusted them with your life. You knew if anything ever happened they’d be there, and vice versa. Throughout the years, your feelings for Dean blossomed into something more than friendship. Maybe it was his incessant flirting, which you returned. Maybe it was his car. Maybe it was just him. Anyway you were certain Dean didn’t like you in the same way. He was just a flirtatious person. You were 100% positive on this conclusion until you both went on a hunt alone. Which wasn’t new, but what was new was the tension. Dean got himself into trouble as usual and you saved him as usual. Only this time he seemed to be reminded how short life truly was. So he told you how all these years he was yearning for you. You were shocked. Dean was worried he had just ruined everything. You told him you felt the exact same way. So of course you both spent the entire night wrapped up in each other. You were mindful of each other’s new wounds. It was a beautiful night. Though you slightly regretted it weeks later.

You found out you were pregnant. You knew Dean wasn’t prepared. You weren’t sure if he ever would be. Dean drank, he spent most of his time working on his car, he barely knew your favorite color, he was quite immature, and he killed monsters for a living. Which you did too but that’s not the point. So you decided not to tell him. In fact the only person you told was Bobby. When you told him he called you idgit and asked if either of ever heard of a condom. To which you replied something along the lines of we didn’t plan it out. Which caused Bobby to tell you the next time he saw Dean he was knocking him out. He asked you what you thought about doing. You explained to him your plan.

You’d go into hiding for about a year, have the baby alone.Then you’d come out of hiding, find a job, a simple home. Raise your child alone. By the time for kindergarten every hunter would’ve forgotten about you. The boys would probably come across an old photo and think I wonder whatever happened to them and move onto the next photo. You’d become an empty guest room in the bunker, an odd mug in the cabinet, a forgotten note in the margin of a book on their shelves, and the hazy memory of a hookup in Dean’s head. Simple as that.

Bobby truly thought you were smarter than that.

“What happens when Dean comes around asking me where you went?”

“Tell I quit hunting, the jobs got in my head. No baby, nothing to do with Dean. Just got tired.”

Bobby decided while he hated the idea of you raising your child alone he knew you were capable. He didn’t like thinking of you in hiding from his boys but if it’s what you wanted who was he to argue with you. So he helped hide you. When Dean came around asking what happened to you he hadn’t heard from you in a while. Were you on a hunt? Bobby told him exactly what you told him to. Job got too much, you quit. You’re off in some quaint town in some perfect little apartment with nothing to your name but a box of cereal and an unfinished crochet project. Dean was obviously upset that you hadn’t told him you planned on quitting, but he understood entirely. So he left you be and assumed you’d call him eventually and tell him all the beautiful things you’d been up to.

All the while, you were wrapped up in some off the grid cottage with Donna Hanscum squeezing your hand, telling you how amazing you were doing over your screams. Jody Mills between your legs, which at first you quite embarrassed about but when your contractions became closer you no longer cared, ready to catch your baby. Through the screams and the tears, and god how much you wished Donna would hit your head with a candlestick to knock you out, your daughter was born. You thought of Eve. Ridiculous, but you spent so much time with the boys hunting down demons and angels it was hard not to think of religious figures. You thought of how scared she must of been. All alone. She would’ve given birth on the forest floor, having no idea what was going on. If she would make it. She had no other woman to support her and tell her, “believe me darling, been there done that. Everyone poops a little its perfectly natural.” No one to tell her anything she was just screaming alone. You stared at the ceiling and while you felt like a vampire ripping all your skin off would hurt less you cried for her. You cried for your pain as well because fucks sake. You felt Donna wipe a wet cloth over your sweaty forehead. You felt Jody gently rub your thigh, grounding you. You looked to Donna’s face and smiled. Eve was alone, but you weren’t. You were so incredibly glad Bobby was a hard headed bitch because your whole “I’ll give birth alone” plan would’ve been hell. Donna nodded at you and asked you to push again. You squeezed her hand harder and pushed. You squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back screaming at the ceiling as you were sure Eve did to the stars.

You heard Jody and Donna both say hello in that usual baby talk voice that seems to just kick in naturally. You opened your eyes and saw her. She was screaming her head off, like mother like daughter. She was covered in blood just as Jody. Jody held her up from between your legs. Your legs made a frame for this filthy, disgusting, gorgeous image. Her misshapen head supported by Jody’s hand. God she was beautiful. You smiled brighter than you were sure you ever had. Jody gently placed your newborn on your stomach as she worked on the umbilical cord and placenta. You couldn’t care less what Jodie was doing, you were holding your baby. You held her to your chest after Jody trimmed the cord and wiped her down. She was still crying, which you understood. She was just evicted and now she’s being held by some sweaty mystery woman, you’d cry too. Something hit you while you were cradling a whole new human to your chest. You had no idea what you were doing.

“I don’t know what to do.” You sobbed. Donna nodded and leaned down to you, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead. You felt her tears dip down onto your hairline. Donna gently pushed your hair away from your face. She pulled back. Even though you couldn’t see her through your tears, you knew she was smiling at you.

“You don’t need to.” Donna whispered to you, wiping the tears off your face.

You stopped following your original plan after that. You did what you felt was right. For you and your daughter, Evangeline. You stayed with Jody and Donna. You kept in contact with Bobby, telling him all the milestones, events, and birthday parties. Bobby always showed up at them too, some obscure gift tucked under his arm wrapped in pretty wrapping paper. On her third birthday Bobby brought her a two headed stuffed bear, she still slept with it clutched to her chest every night. Jody and Donna helped you with every step of the way. Bobby helped keep things under wraps when Dean and Sam popped in asking where you are now, or if another hunter came around asking if you were dead.

Of course with the years of silence between you two, Dean starting asking more questions. “Do they hate me? Was it something I did? Was it because I told them I loved them? Are they okay? Are they alone? They aren’t in any trouble? What aren’t you telling us?” Bobby did his best to answer them without revealing anything he knew you wouldn’t want him to. However Dean was persistent and Bobby was a tired old man who could only take so much of Dean’s questions. So just to get Dean off his back Bobby gave him your phone number. You got a new phone when you went into hiding, leaving all of Deans messages and calls unanswered. So Dean thought about it for a while, would you really want to hear from him? It’s been six almost seven years, the last time he saw you he told you he loved you and a handful of weeks later him and Sam get home from a trip with your room cleared out. A sticky note taped to your door. I quit hunting, I’m exhausted. Don’t look for me. Love you both. It never sat right with him you didn’t seem like the type to just pack all your things and ditch them leaving nothin behind but three sentences. Though Dean used to think that of his father so what exactly did he know. What could it hurt?

You gingerly closed the door behind you, Evangeline snoring away. You quietly snuck away freezing when the stairs creaked. The house was still, so you continued on. You reached the kitchen and made yourself a snack. Your phone rang on the table. You quickly picked it up, moving out the door onto the back porch.

“Hello?” You wished you had taken a moment to look at the caller Id but the panic of waking up Evangeline outweighed knowing which one of the three people you knew were calling you.

“Hey baby, miss me?” You froze at the sound of his voice. It was terrifying, what if he knows about Evangeline? But god, it’s Dean. It’s hard to stay upset or worried around him.

“And here I thought your car was named Baby, not me.” You sat on the cushioned swing. You smiled as you heard him chuckle.

“Oh don’t be like that. Anyway you quit huh? What’s got you so tied up you can’t even call poor old me?” You glanced at the swing set and blowup pool in the backyard. Evangeline’s toys scattered across the yard. You clicked your tongue. Yes you were so tied up you couldn’t call him. You shrugged. You remembered he couldn’t see you.

“Oh you know, basic civilian life. It’s real lovely. I have a pool now, and a garden.” You looked to the tomato plants you and Evangeline planted, you thought they were flower seeds and when they didn’t produce pretty petals she sobbed for five minutes straight. Once Evangeline stopped crying she said she would like to be alone and stormed to her room. A week later you were both planting actual flower seeds. Dean gasped.

“Wow a garden huh? Do you think we could meet up, catch up? I’m sure a lot has happened in the past, what’s it six years?” He knew the exact number of days you’d been gone. It wasn’t really a question. You coughed.

“Uh well you know I don’t know, you’re probably not even near my state right now anyways. But maybe sometime.” You heard Dean sigh.

“Come on, baby. Don’t even tell me your county just what state?” You rolled your eyes at his nickname. You hummed.

“Minnesota.” You heard Dean groan.

“We’re only like 11 hours away, that’s a cake walk.”

“Maybe let me think about it for a little bit.” Dean hummed in agreement. You let out a small sigh, happy he’d give you enough time to decide whether you should throw a wrench in everything.

“You’re not out there alone are you?” Dean sounded worried though you know he’d never admit it. Dean probably missed you, too. He wouldn’t admit that either. Maybe it’d been years but you could tell it was same old Dean. His voice was deeper but he still talked the same.

“No, Dean. I’m not alone. I actually have roommates.” Dean made cooed. You heard Sam yell his name in the background.

“Yeah me too. They nice? Not beating up my baby are they?” You chuckled at him.

“No, they’re lovely. Sam’s good?” You heard a car approaching your house. You glanced up, moving back into the house to peer out the window. Dean hummed.

“Oh yeah he’s great, he like goes on morning runs and stuff. It’s disgusting.” You laughed.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You both fell into a small silence. You didn’t feel uncomfortable, it was Dean. You felt happy. You squished your lips in disappointment when the car sped past your driveway.

“I miss you.” He added. You paused. You pulled the phone away from your ear to look at the number. He wasn’t saved but you still had to check you weren’t hallucinating. You hummed.

“I missed you too.” Dean sighed happily. It felt good to hear you say it. He still had so many questions. Dean wanted to sit down with you ask you everything he ever wondered all these years.

“Why’d you leave like that? I was so worried about you. I had to find out from a sticky note and Bobby. You couldn’t call me and tell me you were okay? You didn’t even seem like you were tired of the job when we’re working. It was out of the blue, all I wanted was you to call tell me you were still in one piece.” Dean’s voice cracked. You heard him inhale deeply, composing himself.

“I know it was sudden, but I just- I had to get out of there. Things happened and suddenly all I could think about was my future. I didn’t want to spend my whole life chasing after monsters, I’m not some children’s book character. I should’ve told you, I should’ve called but all I wanted was to get out and i felt like if I didn’t just cut contact with everyone and leave immediately I’d get sucked back in. I treated you poorly, I apologize but you have to understand i needed to get out or I didn’t think I’d live much longer.” You threw yourself into the armchair near the window. You felt like you might need to sit down for this conversation.

“I get that but god I would’ve killed for you to just tell me you were safe.” You nodded at his uneven voice.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. You heard him sigh on the other end.

“I’m sorry. For just the life it sucks. I’m glad you got out.”

Another silence settled over you as you watched the trees in your front yard sway. You saw Donna’s car pull into your driveway. Right on time, Evangeline’s footsteps sounded above your head. Dean seemed to have already matured so much and you barely had an hour long conversation.

“We should meet, catch up.” Dean barely had enough time to agree before you hung up on him. Clearly you still needed to practice your goodbyes. You called for Evangeline, telling her Aunty Donna was back.

Soon enough you were sat in a diner. A kids menu placed next to you on the table. You waited patiently, watching Evangeline pick a song on the jukebox. You heard the familiar sound of Dean’s car pulling into the parking lot. You watched as he stepped out with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. He stepped into the diner, the bell ringing above his head. Dean smiled brightly when he saw you, moving towards you with a fast pace. He paused when he heard AC/DC come on over the speakers, Dean all together froze when the child next to the jukebox ran over to your table. When Dean finally reached your table he was silent. Evangeline had crawled into your lap, dancing to the song she picked out. She snuggled further into you when she saw Dean. You smiled at him and greeted Dean. You introduced to him to Evangeline explaining he was your friend. Dean slid into the seat across from you. Evangeline busied herself with the crayons and maze on the back of her menu. After he gave you the flowers, which you thanked him for, Dean looked at Evangeline.

“What’s- uh what’s her name?” Dean whispered. You grinned.

“Evangeline” you paused a moment watching him look to your daughter pushing her hair out of her face.

“Winchester.” You finished. His eye shot to you. Dean pointed at himself in question. You nodded.

“She’s mine?” You nodded again. Dean stared at her. Before he was looking at her because she was yours. Now he was looking at her because she was his too. You both watched as she scribbled over the maze, ultimately giving up. Evangeline looked up at you and flipped her menu over. As you both decided what she wanted. When the waitress came around you ordered for the three of you, hoping Dean’s love for bacon hadn’t changed. As you and Evangeline started a game of tic-tac-toe Dean seemed to come to his senses.

“You left because you knew about her. That’s where you went, to raise your baby.” Dean asked though it was more of an observation. You nodded, stealing one of Evangeline’s Cheerios. She pouted at you and “won” your tic-tac-toe game.

“Our baby, technically. But yes. I found out I was pregnant and I ran. I went into hiding with Jody and Donna I gave birth. And now here we are.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dean whispered. He looked up from the table with soft puppy eyes.

“You weren’t ready, I barely was. But I wanted this baby so I made the best decision I could come up with.” He nodded.

“I wish I could tell you you were wrong. I don’t think you were. I was a dick. I’m ready now though. I promise, I wanna be there for her, for you. I have a stable home, I drink less, I’m less of a douchebag. I can do this.” You nodded. You were proud of him. You already knew he’d grown. Old Dean would’ve showed up with a condom not a bouquet.

“I know. Let’s start small Dean. Breakfast first then we’ll start with life changes.” You thanked the waitress as she placed your orders in front of you each. Evangeline smiled brightly at the plate of bacon in front of her. Dean watched her as she squealed. He smiled brightly as she thanked the waitress before digging in. Evangeline really was his daughter.

Propaganda

Ruan Lingyu (The Goddess, New Women, Love and Duty)—icon of chinese silent cinema known for her luminous beauty, her exceptional acting talent, and her tragic life story

Barbara Stanwyck (Ball of Fire, The Lady Eve, Double Indemnity)—I hope someone else has submitted better propaganda than I because I don't want my girl's prospects to rest on me just yelling PLEASE VOTE FOR MY TERRIBLE HOT GIRLFRIEND. She is a delight in everything! She is often a sexy jerk! (It's most of the plot of Baby Face!) Even when she plays a "good girl" (as an example, Christmas in Connecticut, which more people should see) she's still kind of a jerk and I love her for it! She won't take men's shit and she sure wouldn't take mine!

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Ruan Lingyu:

silent era chinese actress who had a subtlety in her acting ability that was way ahead of her time. huge star but her career and life was sadly cut short by damaging publicity

Widely considered one of the best actresses of Chinese silent film

Ruan Lingyu had an eight year movie career, starting at 16 and ending with her suicide at only 24. Despite this, she made some of the most widely acclaimed films of early Chinese cinema and the BBC called her "China's Greta Garbo." In "Love and Duty," she plays her character as a teen, a young mother, and an older woman beaten down by life AND her teen daughter in an early application of split-screen technology. Lingyu is absolutely unrecognizable as the older woman, yet emotionally the transition is seamless because she does such a good job. Lingyu had a hard life and killed herself after ination [sic] of media scorn and private problems. Her funeral was three days long, the procession was allegedly four miles long, and three women killed themselves during her funeral. The New York Times called it "the most spectacular funeral of the century." I'm adding this to show what kind of hold she had over the public at the time, much like Rudolph Valentino's raucous funeral. I would rather she had lived.

Barbara Stanwyck:

"THE leading lady of the golden age of hollywood. One of the only actresses to work independent of a studio, making short-term contracts that enabled her to make movies wherever she wanted. She had so much range, and could act in basically any genre. She's been rumored to be a lesbian literally since she was active in Hollywood; most notable is the rumor that she had a long time on-and-off relationship with famously bi Joan Crawford, her "best friend" for decades (They lived right next door to one another). She also lived with Helen Ferguson, her "live-in publicist" for many years. She was the quintessential femme fatale in Double Indemnity, and really pushed sexual boundaries in her pre-code films like Baby Face, and the famous screwball The Lady Eve, where she plays basically a downlow domme. Allegedly, when a journalist asked her if she was a lesbian, she straight up threw him out of her house. She even played a lesbian in Walk on the Wild Side"

"THE queen of screwball comedies. I adore her, I'd kill for her, I will cry if she's not gonna win this poll."

"listen ok she had awful politics she was a mccarthyist right wing wacko BUT she's so incredibly hot that i've deluded myself into believing i could fix her. if you see her onscreen she carries herself in a way that's just so effortlessly sexy AND she has just a stunning face. imo she was at her hottest in the 1940s but even as early as the late 1920s she had a rly captivating screen presence and just a beautiful face, and then post-1950 she was just irresistibly milfy so really she was just always incredibly hot. she was also an incredibly talented actress who was equally stellar in melodrama, film noir, and unhinged screwball comedy. the blonde wig they made her wear in double indemnity is notoriously silly looking but she still looks sexy in it so that's gotta count for something. i've watched so many terrible movies just for a chance at seeing her that i think her estate should be paying me damages."

"Not often thought of for her sultriness, Barbara Stanwyck was incredible in that she could actually choose to be hot if the role called for it, and then have a glow-down to look ordinary for another role. She wasn't the most beautiful or effervescent, but damn did she have rizz. Watch her with Gary Cooper in Ball of Fire teaching him about "yum-yum" or with Henry Fonda in The Lady Eve whispering huskily into his ear."

"She is always the smartest woman in the room. Watching her play Henry Fonda like a befuddled fiddle in The Lady Eve was a highlight of my life. Femme fatale in Double Indemnity, comedy queen in Ball of Fire. She can do anything."

"She was part of my gay awakening"

"SHE'S A PRE-CODE QUEEN. She did everything, drama, comedy. The most beautiful woman in the world to watch weep. Beg for to step on you with those legs. Fun Babs story: Ginger Rogers was offered the role in Ball of Fire but said, “Oh, I would never play that part, she’s too common.” So they called Barbara Stanwyck and they said “We offered this to Ginger Rogers but she’s turned it down, would you be interested?” And she read the script and she said; “You bet! I LOVE playing common broads. [link]"

to all the girls you've loved before part 1

author's note: hi! remember that time i wrote jack fics? well i'm branching out, so BUCKLE UP BABY. it should be said that this will be multiple parts, i don't know how many though so again, buckle up. also i'm pretending the trade never happened

pairing: single dad!mat barzal x reader

summary: being a nanny for rich people was probably the worst thing that ever happened to you, until you started working for mat.

warnings: children, rich people, mentions of absent parent

mat barzal. nearly everyone in new york was obsessed with him, you knew him by the awkward elevator interactions when you were leaving work and he was getting home.

you nannied for a family in his building, a mom named erin who was rarely home with two really sweet children, ages 2 and 4.

you didn't even know his name until a few weeks after he moved in when erin mentioned his name in passing conversation, saying something about an nhl player living across the hall.

"i think he's around your age," she said with a sly smirk. "and handsome too, introduced himself to the kids too. such a sweetheart."

"erin," you started. "you can't possibly know he's a sweetheart from one two second interaction."

she tsked and waved you off. "first impressions have a great impact."

you met him when you were getting off the elevator. he had a duffle bag slung over one shoulder and wore a suit, his hair was wet and strewn about in every direction. you were in a pair of sweats to combat the cold.

he mumbled a small hey and made a pathetic excuse for a smile as he waited for you to get off the elevator.

everything you knew about him, you gleaned involuntarily. he must suck at cooking given the amount of times the smoke detector would go off in his place, you could hear the beeping through the walls. and his lack of cooking skills took shape in the trash bags filled with take out boxes that he loudly dumped in the trash chute. you even knew he had a best friend named "tito" from the shouting that erupted every time said friend came over.

you thought nothing of him aside from the mild annoyance at his loud noises.

it wasn't until the fall came and the two year old turned three (and therefore went off to preschool) that things changed.

you'd just settled into your pajamas when erin called asking you to come over.

"is everything alright?" you asked.

"you remember mat?"

"hardly."

she laughed through the phone, though it sounded a little strained. "can you come over? he's found himself in a bit of a situation."

you paused. "what kind of situation?"

spoiler alert: it was an eight month old baby girl kind of situation.

mat was sitting on erin's couch while the baby, whose name was apparently ella, snoozed away in the pack and play when you walked in.

erin explained the situation as you took a seat. something about a fling he had that resulted in a pregnancy (obviously) and the mom decided parenting just wasn't for her so she dropped the baby off with mat and has blocked him on all forms of communication.

erin leant some things like a pack and play for ella to sleep in until he got a crib. but he didn't need that as much as he needed you.

a nanny.

"i know you already have a job, but i can pay well and pay you more for watching all three kids when you have them," mat begged. "i know i have late games so it would require late nights but you can sleep in the guest room if you'd like and i might be gone for a week at a time, but you can invite friends over to hang out and--"

you held up a hand. listening to the man beg and plead for your help was almost heartbreaking. "i'll do it."

he sat back. "what, really?"

you furrowed your brows. "is that a problem?"

mat shook his head. "no! sorry, i was just surprised you'd agree so quickly.

"well, it's not like it would interfere with my time with erin's girls. i could watch your baby during the day and take her to pick up the girls from school and keep ella until you get back."

he still looked unsure. "i work late nights sometimes, is that a problem?"

you thought about the fact your schedule has been empty for the past few months, that the only reason you leave your shitty apartment was because erin needed you to nanny. "i think i can manage."

he smiled for the first time that evening, looking almost near tears. "thank you thank you thank you," he said.

you nodded, a little overwhelmed by his sudden change in demeanor. "when do i start?"

day one

you hesitantly walked into mat's big ass apartment to the sound of a screaming baby.

it was six in the morning.

mat ran into the living room, hair askew, clothes wrinkled, but his baby was in a clean set of pajamas with tears running down her face.

"i don't know what's wrong," he said frantically. "she woke up and i changed her diaper but she's still crying."

you dropped your bag on the floor and made your way over to him, taking ella out of his arms and immediately bouncing her in your own. "she's probably hungry," you guessed.

"i tried that! i put the bottle in the microwave but when i gave it to her she started crying harder and--"

"wait," you stopped him. "you put the bottle in the microwave?" he nodded. "with the formula?" he nodded again. "mat, you can't do that. heat the water separately and then add the formula. and then test it on your wrist to make sure it's the right temperature." you walked into the kitchen and prepared the bottle the right way, showing mat how to do it as you went.

when all was said and done, you placed the new bottle in ella's mouth and watched as she took it without issue.

mat's shoulders sagged in relief. "you're a miracle worker."

you gave him a sheepish smile. "you can go get ready, mat. i've got her from here." he nodded and hurried towards what you assumed was his bedroom while you walked over to the couch to sit down.

ella was a cute baby, you'd give her that. no doubt taking after her father. she looked at you with wide eyes as she drank her bottle, her irises never left your face. it would've been unnerving if she had been an adult.

mat came out a little less frazzled ten minutes later. ella had finished her bottle at that point and the both of you were laid on the floor doing tummy time.

"what's that?" he pointed to the two of you once he stopped running his hands through his hair.

"what's what?"

"what's that you're doing?" he gestured again before placing his hands on his hips.

"tummy time," you smiled. "it helps build her neck muscles. also helps prevent flat spots on the back of her head."

you didn't like to judge people for their skin color, because it's racist, but you didn't think it was possible for mat to be paler until you spoke.

"she could get flat spots?"

you hung your head as ella babbled to herself.

it was going to be a long employment.

day ten

you'd finally gotten mat on a rhythm, he looked a little less scared with every day that you came over.

but today was different.

he was going on an eight day roadie which meant you would be watching her overnight several nights in a row (on top of erin's kids).

you'd done much harder jobs before, so you weren't nervous about the time you spent with ella, it was more so you feared all the confidence you built in the week or so you'd worked for mat would disappear when he came back and realized he had an eighteen year commitment waiting at home for him.

"you have my number, right?" he asked even though you got it the night you accepted the position.

"yes, mat," you said instead.

"and you'll text me if anything goes wrong?"

you nodded. you bounced ella on your hip and held her hand up. "bye dada," you said for her, smiling as she did.

mat's bags were stationed by the front door, but he made no move towards them. he stayed planted in front of you, but his hands fidgeted.

"can i--" he cleared his throat. "can i hold her?"

"of course!" you didn't hesitate to pass her off to mat, who handled her like precious cargo, but was still a little unsure about the entire situation.

once she was settled, he took his eyes off her to look at you. "you know where the guest room is, right?" you nodded. "right, just make yourself at home. i stocked the fridge, i have just about every streaming service, so you should be fine." he paused. "but if you aren't--"

"mat--"

"--you can just text me if you need anything, alright?" he turned his head to focus on ella who took her hands to slap to his cheeks. "and you be good, okay baby?" his voice pitched higher right before he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

you checked your watch to keep yourself from intruding on what felt like a special moment. "mat," you started. "you should get going before you're late."

he nodded and pressed one last kiss to the top of ella's head before passing her back to you. "i'll facetime you when i get to the hotel, okay? so i can tell her goodnight?"

you nodded and left out the part that she would probably be asleep because honestly, you weren't expecting him to remember.

"alright," he said, wiping his hands on his pants before making his way to the front door where his bags sat. "i'll see you in a week."

"bye bye dada," you said in a high squeaky voice, using ella's hand to wave just like before.

he smiled before walking out the door and locking it behind him.

day fourteen

it wasn't until halfway through mat's roadie that weariness settled in. you were constantly surrounded by children, which normally wouldn't be an issue, but between ella and erin's two kids, you were practically a full time single parent.

which sucked because it wasn't even like you got laid to even create this issue.

mat, though, true to his word, facetimed every night he possibly could. he smiled wide every time he saw ella's face and while she was confused at how your phone worked, ella smiled and laughed at the sound of her father's voice.

"what have you been up to?" he asked one evening. you were spoon feeding ella sweet potato puree for dinner while he was laying in bed in his hotel room.

"nothing really, we went to the park today, she was really happy to see a few dogs."

mat grumbled. "certainly didn't get that from me."

you couldn't help it, you smiled at his pout.

"is that--" he guffawed. "did i make you smile?"

you rolled your eyes. "i'm sure i've smiled at you before."

"you haven't!"

"and i don't blame you!" another voice piped in. "he's not funny."

when mat saw the look on your face, he sighed. "that's tito," he said like that explained everything.

"nice to meet you, tito!" you called.

"is that your nanny?" you heard him call. "can i say hi to ella?"

mat rolled his eyes but moved the camera to show you a good looking man lounging in the other bed. he was handsome in a way that mat wasn't. you couldn't really compare one to the other in the same way you couldn't compare an apple to quantum physics.

"ella can you say hi?" you asked in a small voice. ella spared a single glance to camera before screaming. you laughed before spoon feeding her more puree. "sorry," you started. "she does that sometimes."

tito looked terrified but covered it up quickly when mat cleared his throat. "she just screams randomly?"

you shrugged. "usually when she's excited or frustrated."

tito laid back in his bed and started scrolling on his phone. "babies, man."

mat came back into view. his head rested back on his pillow as he held the camera above his face. "are you both doing okay?"

you opened your mouth to reply but tito cut him off.

"you don't need to ask her that everyday!" he said.

you couldn't see what he did, but judging by the shaking of the camera and the cackle that escaped tito's lips, you'd give your left leg and say he flipped his best friend off.

you took your eyes off the camera to look at ella who was using her puree covered hands to rub at her eyes. you put your phone down and grabbed a napkin to immediately start wiping her face and hands.

"is everything okay?" mat asked. "did i lose you?"

"just had to put the phone down to clean her up. she's getting sleepy." you pulled ella out of her high chair, resolving to clean it up later, and picked your phone up.

mat's face lit back up when ella came into view. "hi baby girl," he smiled. "are you getting ready to go to bed?"

ella rested her head on your shoulder and yawned.

"well, i'll let you two go," mat sighed. "i love you, ella bean." he directed his gaze to you. "same time tomorrow?"

"i'll let you know if anything changes."

"night."

"night, mat."

he ended the call and left you to take ella to bed.

day twenty-seven

nearly a month into working for mat and everything was going great. ella had gotten used to you which meant she knew you would come back when you left the room. the first two weeks, she cried every time you left. and if you had to guess, it probably had something to do with how her mother treated her.

and mat, well, he was embracing the father role well enough for someone who thought he was an unattached bachelor not even a month ago.

as far as you go, you were still getting used to the workload of erin's kids and ella. and while you would never breathe a word of it to anyone, you preferred ella over erin's kids.

your roommate and your boyfriend took some time to adjust to your new hours, but your roommate was excited when you contributed more to groceries and apartment needs. as far as your boyfriend went, he was still getting used to the idea of you being gone all day and sometimes even weekends, but even he admitted ella was the cutest baby he'd ever seen.

you were plating yogurt and some smashed peaches for her morning snack while holding her on your hip when mat walked in the kitchen, hair wet from a shower.

"hey," he said. "how is she?"

at the sound of his voice, ella turned in your arms and made a grabby motion for him. "you tell me," you said, handing her off to him. almost immediately, ella rested her head in the crook of his neck and popped a thumb in her mouth.

a smile crossed his face at the way ella fit so perfectly into the lines of his body.

"you're good at this," you remarked.

he laughed. "i have no idea what i'm doing."

"does anyone?"

"you seem to have it figured out."

the laugh was out of your mouth before you could stop it. "well then, let me go audition for broadway. i'm a better actress than i thought."

neither of you said a word, but you continued to stare at each other until his phone dinged. mat shifted ella around until he could fish his phone out of his pocket. "oh it's my mom." he scrolled through the texts when a figurative lightbulb appeared over his head.

"what?" you asked.

"my family is coming into town to meet ella next week so that might affect the hours you have." a flash of panic must've been present on your face because he quickly spoke again. "but your pay will still be the same! i don't want you to worry about that at all. i might still need you throughout the week."

"okay!" you smiled before moving ella's morning snack to her high chair. mat peeled her off of him and placed her in the seat before taking the chair next to hers.

his phone dinged again.

"oh," he said.

"what is it?"

"my mom wants to meet you."

"oh."

Never Say Never

Chapter 2

Pairing: SingleDad!StevexReader

Summary: You are a 32 year old single mother, raising your seven year old son on your own. After being widowed at 30 and going out on awful dates with disgusting men for the past month, you have decided that you're giving up. You already had your great love. One person can't possibly get lucky enough to have two in their lifetime. But then your son starts playing baseball and the coach might just change your mind about that.

No posting schedule.

18+ only for eventual smut

Word Count: 7.3K

1

“It seems to be just a case of the common cold,” you told the worried mother. “Dr. Wilson said she just needs rest and to make sure she drinks lots of fluids. She should be back to herself within a few days.”

“Thanks. I know I’m probably being silly rushing her in here but she kept waking up last night, crying, and I’m all alone. I’ve just been exhausted having to do everything on my own. It’s been so hard. And with her not feeling well, neither of us have gotten much sleep the last few days. My husband’s in the Air Force and he’s currently deployed and we don’t know when he’s going to get to come back home and my parents live three hundred miles away.”

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Let the feeling come. Acknowledge the feeling and then move forward. You closed your eyes for a moment, centering yourself, not letting this one burrow too far in before you forced it back. Maybe you weren't supposed to push them away but sometimes it was necessary. Like now. You couldn’t be the nurse who assured the nervous mother if you were busy trying to find three things to look at, smell, and move. It wasn’t reassuring to have your medical professional falling apart in front of you.

Pressing your index finger to your thumb, you allowed yourself to feel the sensation, to know you were here. You weren't back there. No one was waiting on the other side of the door to give you the news that would send a wrecking ball through the middle of your life, destroying and altering it forever. You were strong. You were handling it. You were moving forward. Opening your eyes, you put on your best smile. 

“Of course. I can’t imagine how challenging that must be for you.” Actually, you could, but this was not the time or place to share your own story. This was the time to be an empathetic ear, to listen to your patient. It was not the time to unpack your own trauma or make this about yourself. “Please, no need to apologize. You call us whenever you need to. It’s always better to be safe than sorry.”

The mother thanked you, lifting her three year old into her arms. You directed her which way to go. Parents often got a bit turned around in this place, the hallways like a maze to the various exam rooms, like a figure eight. This practice was a thriving one, one that kept you very busy, your days packed with back-to-back appointments. But you preferred it that way. It made your days go faster. 

After you finished college with your Bachelor’s of Science in nursing, you had immediately gotten a job at the local hospital. You'd loved it. The hours were long and you were exhausted all the time but it had been fast-paced and so rewarding. However, it had also been heartbreaking as some children who came into the hospital were there to stay and would never again leave. They would never get tucked into their own bed again, never run through their own backyard again, never sit on the floor of their living room on a Saturday morning eating cereal while watching cartoons again. The job had not just been physically exhausting but mentally and emotionally exhausting as well. 

After you'd found out you were expecting Eli, Justin had suggested that maybe you needed something a bit more predictable. It would be hard for you to work twelve hour shifts with a baby at home. It would be even harder to watch children suffer, watch parents in the darkest moments of their lives, when you had a little one at home. You weren't sure how you could face that kind of heartbreak and then go home to your own child, hoping it never happened to you.

Still, you wouldn’t have given it up if it weren’t for Justin being in the military. With his job, he would often be gone for months at a time, leaving you alone. It hadn’t been a problem before but with your parents living across the country and his parents more than three hours away, you were limited when it came to help. So, you'd applied to the new local pediatrician's office, delighted when you got a call that same week, inviting you in for an interview. 

You'd been there ever since, watching as Dr. Wilson’s practice grew. He was young, just a bit older than you, and new to the job but his warm demeanor and empathetic ear quickly had every mom in town bringing their child to him. It probably didn’t hurt that he was pretty damn good looking too. 

“Hey Rita, I’m going to take my lunch if I don’t have any more patients for a bit,” you told your receptionist as you placed the child’s file into the cabinet. 

“That’s fine. Your next appointment isn’t for an hour so you’re good. I’ll have Sarah handle anything that pops up while you’re out.”

“Thanks.”

You grabbed your lunch bag from the fridge and made your way out of the office, heading for the pond. When it was nice out, you always chose to eat your lunch out here, a little escape from the fluorescent lights and germs of the office. Finding a bench, you sat down, pulling out your bologna sandwich. It wasn’t your usual choice but it had simply felt easier to make two this morning instead of trying to come up with something else for yourself. 

You pulled out your phone, dialing the number of the one person you'd been desperate to talk to after the events of yesterday. Janice was a photographer. She did great business and had multiple clients who came back to her again and again for family portraits, baby pictures, and senior photos. She worked from home, which also meant her hours were flexible and she was almost always available to take your calls. Sure enough, your best friend picked up after two rings. 

“Are you sitting under your tree?”

You laughed, “How did you know?”

“Because it’s your lunchtime and that’s what you always do when the sun is shining. Are the geese around?”

“Yep. The five little babies are swimming with mom and dad. They’re so cute. Little brown fluffballs that look so soft and sweet. I just want to cuddle them.”

“I wouldn’t try it. Geese can be nasty.”

“You don’t have to tell me. Remember when Eli was two and he wanted to feed them and those two geese hissed and opened their wings wide when he got too close. We didn’t know they had a nest right there. I know they were just protecting their babies but that scared the shit out of me.”

“Well, Eli’s your baby. Of course you were scared,” Janice laughed. “Oh my god. That poor kid. He won’t go anywhere near them now. It cemented itself into his brain and gave him a complex. He’ll probably hate those feathered fiends for the rest of his life. So, how was his first baseball practice? Did he love it? Matt can’t wait to talk to him about it.”

“He did. He talked my ear off the whole way home. His best friend is on his team and his coach is the kid’s dad. He loves him and said he was so nice and fun. He’s really patient with the kids. When Eli missed the ball for the third time, he was so upset with himself. The coach was so sweet, giving him some pointers, and assuring him he could do it.”

“Oh…okay, hold on. Wait a minute. Why do you sound like that when you’re talking about his coach?”

“Like what?” you demanded. 

“Like you did in high school when you used to talk about Josh.”

“What? No I don’t.”

“Yeah you do! You’re all gushy. You sound like a Disney princess about to break into song among the forest animals who are going to help you clean your home about the guy you just met in the woods.”

You snorted, “Oh please. No I don’t. I’m just glad that his coach is so kind since Eli is new at this.”

“Uh-huh…so, this coach isn’t cute?”

“I mean, yeah, he is…objectively speaking, most women would say he was very attractive.”

“Most women, huh? And what about you?”

“Yes, okay? Yes, I think he’s very attractive. Anyone with eyes would see that he is good-looking. You should have heard the moms at practice going on about his ass. Married moms basically saying they would cheat on their husbands for this guy. I swear, the housewives club is scary. But it’s just…he’s just Eli’s coach. His son is coming over to our house later today to play with Eli.”

Steve was attractive. Hell, he was possibly the most attractive man you'd ever laid eyes on and that made the guilt just twist in your stomach even harder. Justin had been the love of your life. How could you be so turned around by some guy you barely even knew? You'd spoken for all of three minutes. You didn’t know anything about him besides the fact that he coached kids baseball. 

“Oh, is he now?”

“Janice, stop. Eli and Jeremiah have become best friends this year and Eli asked forever ago if he could come over and I completely forgot about it and it never happened. He asked again yesterday so I promised him I would set it up. That’s all it is.”

“And is his dad coming over to play too?”

You groaned, your hand coming to y our forehead, “Do you have to say it like that? And no he’s not. He has a work meeting. So, I’m kind of helping him out, I guess, but not really because I was going to invite the kid over anyway.”

“So, he’s just dropping him off and picking him up?”

“Well, he may have offered to grab a pizza on his way back to thank me for watching his kid. Which is completely unnecessary because I asked for him to come over before he ever told me about his meeting. I wouldn’t even have known I was babysitting for him if he wouldn’t have told me about it. I never would have expected him to hang around while our kids hung out.”

“Hmm, so you’re going to be having dinner with him, then?”

“And our kids,” you reminded her. 

Janice had this all wrong. Of course she did. He was just being friendly. Your kids were friends and they wanted to spend time together. He’d said it himself, you were helping him out of a bind with childcare issues. That was all. He was just being nice and buying everybody dinner. Your sons were going to be there. It wasn’t like it was a date. 

“Still. You know, I said maybe you could find a hot, single dad at practice and look at you, finding one on the first go! He is single, right?”

“I think so. He said his best friend was busy and he had no one else to watch Jeremiah. That would make me think the mom isn’t in the picture but I honestly have no idea. We barely talked because he had to start the practice.”

“Well, you should have plenty of time to talk tonight and get clarification on his status.”

“I don’t need clarification on his status. I told you, I’m done with all of that. I had Justin. There is no way I will ever find anything that can begin to compare with what we had.”

“You definitely won’t if you just throw in the towel. Come on, Aly. Would it really be so bad to just talk to him a bit? I’m not saying you have to jump his bones tonight. I mean, probably wouldn’t hurt. You haven’t been laid in two years, my friend. Your vagina could use some airing out. Clear all the cobwebs that have settled, you know?”

“Jesus, you are so foul,” you sighed, catching sight of a young family heading into the office. The dad had a little boy on his shoulders. He said something to the mom and she grinned, leaning up onto her toes to kiss him. The sight sent familiar pangs of the loss of what could have been, what should have been, through you. 

“Maybe but you know I’m right. Anyway, if you’re going to be such a prude, then just talk to him. Be his friend. If your kids like each other that much, chances are this won’t be the only time you’re around each other. And then who knows?”

“Yeah…who knows…” you sighed, thinking you did know. The universe was never going to let you get that lucky twice. Something had to be wrong with this guy.

___________________________________________________________

You folded the towel from the dryer as you watched Jeremiah and Eli race around the backyard, dressed up in Eli’s superhero costumes. Your son had an entire bin of them. He was obsessed. Comic books and action figures covered the shelves in his bedroom. Eli had always loved superheroes but Matt, who was a self-proclaimed, very proud nerd, had gotten him into comics. Most of the items Eli now had came from Matt himself, stuff he’d kept since he was a kid.

You'd survived the drop-off, being cordial and friendly without giving off any signals that you were interested in anything more. At least, you thought you were. It was hard to concentrate when that man looked so damn good, standing there in gray slacks and a yellow sweater. When his cologne hit your olfactory nerves, a woodsy scent of sandalwood and pine, you had gripped the door frame, fighting back the swoon that was quickly coming on. But no, you were sure you kept things professional, just two parents in the midst of an exchange for a playdate. 

Besides, you weren't even sure you were interested in anything more. You didn’t even know how to do more at this point. It had been so long since you'd spent real time with any man that wasn’t Justin or Matt. And even if Janice kept pushing you to move on, even if it had been two years, you weren't sure you were ready. 

And you weren't sure if Eli would be ready. His therapist said he was doing well. He had adjusted as best as you could expect a child who’d lost his father to adjust. But did that mean he was ready to see his mom with a new guy? Was it fair to bring someone new into his life that could just disappear? What if you started something with someone and it ended badly and he lost another male figure and his best friend at the same time? Would he be so well adjusted then? He had settled into their routine, him and you against the world. You weren't sure you could change that on him. 

He’d only been five when it happened but you had made sure that he’d never forgotten his daddy. A picture of him and Justin sat on his nightstand by his bed. It was one of your favorites, taken at the pumpkin farm when Eli was four. He held a giant pumpkin, looking so proud, when really Justin was holding the bottom of it for him, both of them beaming their matching smiles. 

The two of you talked about him often, you sharing stories with him of you and Justin and him and Justin. Reminded him how much his daddy had loved him. You couldn’t allow him to forget. You couldn’t do that to Justin whose smile could have lit up the entire planet the first time he laid eyes on his son. 

“Mommy! We’re hungry!” Eli yelled as he and Jeremiah came racing in the back door. 

You glanced over at the clock, “Well, Jeremiah’s dad is bringing pizza and he should be here any minute. Do you think Superman and Batman can wait just a few minutes to eat?”

Eli groaned, dramatically tumbling down to the floor, “But fighting crime and saving the world is hard work. It makes us so hungry, mommy.”

“Okay…how about you two have some strawberries?” you offered, thinking it wouldn’t be too filling and it would get something good in their system before they loaded up on carbs and cheese. 

“Strawberries!” Jeremiah’s eyes lit up. “They’re my favorite fruit. Daddy takes me strawberry picking every single year and we get a ton. My daddy makes strawberry jam and it’s so good on my toast.” His eyes went wide, shooting over to Eli. “Hey! I’ll ask my dad if you guys can come this year! It’s super fun. They have goats, cows, chickens, and ponies that you can ride!”

“Can we mommy?” Eli asked, turning those sweet blue eyes up at you. 

“I…uh…I mean, strawberry picking around here isn’t for another month or so. But, maybe, I guess? I mean, if Eli’s daddy wants to take you too, that would be fine.”

“You can come too!” Jeremiah told you. “They have other stuff there like fancy soaps and stuff that they make. My mommy used to like those.”

“Oh, well, maybe…” you muttered as you busied yourself with getting out the strawberries. You ran them under water before working at slicing them onto a plate for the boys to share. 

His mommy used to like those? So, she’d been around during his life, obviously. Enough for him to remember going strawberry picking with them. Unless, like Eli, he was repeating stories his dad had shared with him.  Where was she now? Had she left? Had she died? You couldn’t very well ask a little boy. What if she had passed? You couldn’t bring up that pain for him. 

“Did we ever go strawberry picking with daddy?” asked Eli as the boys sat down at the table, the plate of strawberries between them.

You swallowed, “No. We didn’t go strawberry picking but we used to go to the apple orchard every fall and daddy would put you up on his shoulders so you could get the apples. And we always went to the pumpkin farm too.”

“We still do that!”

“Yes we do,” you smiled as you washed your hands. You worked so hard to keep the traditions that you and Justin started alive. It was another way for you to remind your son how incredible the five short years he had with his dad was. You looked up when there was a knock at the door, drying your hands on a kitchen towel. “I bet that’s Jeremiah’s daddy with the pizza.”

Smoothing your hands over your hair, you inhaled deeply, reminding yourself that this was just two parents whose kids had become best friends getting to know each other. No pressure. No reason to be nervous. You were simply trying to be good parents. 

Grabbing onto the door, you swung it open, only to feel like the entire world had turned upside down at the sight of Steve. There he stood in those slacks and that yellow sweater that looked so damn good on him. Not many people could pull off yellow but boy, he could. His right arm was raised, two pizza boxes balancing on his hand and a smile that could have outshone the sun on his face. 

“Pizza, as promised,” he announced. 

Gathering yourself, you returned his smile, “The boys will be very relieved. Superman and Batman have been battling the forces of evil all afternoon and they are wasting away to nothing.”

Steve’s cheeks hollowed out as he released a long, audible breath, “Can’t have that. How will they ever keep the city safe if we don’t recharge them with greasy pizza? But seriously, I hope he was good for you.”

“He was great,” you assured him. “Seriously.”

“Good. Thanks again. You were a real lifesaver.”

“No problem. I…”

“Daddy! Where’s the pizza!?” came Jeremiah’s whine from the kitchen, loud and impatient. 

“Sorry. It’s right here.” Steve grinned, tossing you a wink that had you dazed, before making his way into the kitchen, plopping the boxes down in the middle of the table. “We can’t have Superman and Batman losing their strength. Have to keep them fed so they can keep the city safe. Are we currently in Gotham or Metropolis?”

“Daddy,” Jeremiah sighed, looking exasperated with his father. “Everyone knows both of those places are based on New York City. Then we can be there together.”

“Oh, sorry,” snorted Steve, sharing an amused look with you. “I am not as well versed in superhero lore as you.”

“I know. Uncle Dusty knows way more than you.”

“Of course he does because Uncle Dusty is so much cooler than your boring, old dad.” Steve rolled his eyes, pulling out the chair next to Jeremiah and having a seat. 

“You have a brother?” you asked as you stretched your arm up to retrieve the plastic paper plate holders from the top shelf. Turning, your breath caught in your throat. Steve’s eyes were watching you, focused on your midsection, right where your sweater had ridden up when you'd reached for the plates. He quickly looked down at his son as you cleared your throat and set the holders and plates on the table. 

“Uhh…no. I mean, not really,” he laughed. “Dustin isn’t actually my brother. I used to babysit him actually. I helped him out one day. There were some older kids picking on him and his friends at the park and I stepped in. Anyway, he went home and told his mom about this cool teenager and she tracked me down and asked if I’d be interested in babysitting. I think she really just wanted him to have a guy in his life. His dad died when he was young and he was an only child. Anyway, he was ten and I was sixteen and he just latched on like a leech and stuck. So…” He balanced his elbows on the table, hands facing up. “I guess he’s mine now. Him and Jere, here, are really close. Jere is into all the nerdy stuff that Dustin likes so Dustin is like his hero.”

“Uncle Dusty is amazing! He taught me how to make a homemade rocket,” Jeremiah told you, his smile so like his dad’s. 

But his eyes were different, a beautiful blue like the color of the ocean on a sunny day. And his nose was rounded, a cute little button, the complete opposite of Steve’s which was longer and pointed, almost Romanesque. He must have gotten those features from his mom, which left you wondering where she was again. 

“Yeah, and you almost burned the garage down. That thing singed the walls. I had to pull out the fire extinguisher,” Steve reminded his son, grabbing plates and placing them into the holders. 

Eli’s eyes went wide, “You almost started a fire?”

“Only a little one but you should have seen the rocket. It zoomed around the garage and then flew out and went bang! It was so cool.”

“Yeah, real cool,” Steve rolled his eyes. 

“Daddy, did you get just cheese?” asked Jeremiah as Steve moved to open one of the boxes.

“Of course, kid. Do you think I’m new here?” He reached over, ruffling his son’s hair, causing Jeremiah to giggle and that familiar pain, the pain that reminded you of everything your son was missing out on, tightened around you once again. Steve looked up at you. “I got one cheese and one pepperoni. I figured those were safe bets since I don’t know what either of you like. Hope that’s okay?”

“I love cheese too!” Eli told him eagerly, grinning over at Steve. “And mommy usually gets bacon and pineapple for herself but she likes all pizza. Pizza is our favorite food. We have it every Friday and watch a movie.”

“Pineapple on pizza?” Steve questioned skeptically, that beautiful nose crinkling. 

“Hey, don’t knock it until you try it,” you teased with a laugh, pouring milk for the kids. “My husb…” You paused, swallowing hard before taking the seat between Steve and Eli. But why shouldn’t you talk about Justin? Steve had to know Eli didn’t arrive by immaculate conception. “My husband thought I was crazy too. He was more of a pepperoni and green onions kind of guy. But my roommate in college is the one who got me into it. She ordered it one night and I was skeptical too but the combination of sweet and savory is delicious.”

“I think I’ll just have to take your word on that one,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Fruit on pizza.” He looked over at the boys, one of those long, thick fingers swirling around by his ear. “Can you believe that? She’s nuts.”

Eli giggled as Steve plopped a piece of cheese on his plate, “My mommy can be crazy. Sometimes we do backward dinner.”

Steve’s lips pursed, head tilted, “Backward dinner? What’s that?”

“It’s where we have dessert first. So, we’ll have hot fudge sundaes and then we’ll have chicken nuggets and vegetables. It’s my favorite kind of dinner because I don’t have to eat all my vegetables before I get my dessert.”

“Oh, that does sound like a good deal because dessert is the best part of the meal,” Steve agreed with a nod. 

“I mean, it’s only done sometimes as a special treat.” You didn’t know why you felt the need to justify yourself but you did. “I do make sure he eats healthy.”

Steve laughed, “I’m sure you do. Sometimes Jere Bear and I like to have ice cream for dinner, don’t we?”

“Yeah! My daddy used to work at Scoops Ahoy and they have the best ice cream! I always get a banana split and daddy gets the U.S.S. Butterscotch.”

“Mmm, the U.S.S. Butterscotch is my favorite,” you grinned. “Eli always gets the hot fudge sundae.”

“With extra fudge!” he added. 

“Obviously,” Steve scoffed. “You can never have too much fudge.”

“So, how long ago was this when you worked at Scoops Ahoy?” you asked, picturing him in their little sailor outfit. You couldn’t deny that it gave you a little thrill of pleasure.

“Oh god, it’s been years now. I worked there right out of high school. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and when I couldn’t even get into community college, my father forced me to get a job. Said I needed to know what it was like to earn a working man’s wage.” He snorted harshly, leaving you with the impression that his relationship with his father wasn’t a particularly good one. “Anyway, I worked there for a couple years. That’s actually how I met my best friend, Robin.”

“And I assume you did figure out what you wanted to do with your life since you had a work meeting tonight?”

Steve took a large bite of his pizza, the slice folded up in his hand, “I’m a project manager for a construction company.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that job. What exactly do you do?”

“I oversee the building process, make sure everything is completed on time and within budget. I work with the architects and the engineers to develop plans, establish timelines for different phases to be complete, and calculate what labor and materials are going to cost. That’s what my meeting was about tonight actually. We just got a contract for a new subdivision they’re putting in off of Cherry. It’s a big job. We’re thinking it’s going to take about two years.”

“Wow, that’s a long time.”

“Not really when you consider we’re building around sixty new houses. It’s a good thing really, means my team will have plenty of work to do for a while. Steady income, you know? Nothing’s worse than having to lay someone off, knowing you’re possibly making their life impossible.”

“What’s laying off?” asked Eli. 

“Well, when we don’t have enough work to do, then we don’t have the money to pay people. So, I have to tell them that we’re letting them go for a while. It’s not really getting fired because you hope you can call them back when there’s more work. They can apply to get money from the government but it’s not nearly as much as they make when they’re working. That can make it hard for them to feed their families and pay their bills.”

“That seems mean,” Eli commented. “Why do you do it?”

“I don’t want to do it. But when the money’s not there, we have no way to pay them. It happens a lot in the wintertime because there’s not as much building when the weather’s bad. That’s why this job is such a good thing because it will be steady work for the next two winters. I won’t have to worry and neither will my guys.”

“Well, that’s good. Did you have to go to school for that or like a trade school?” you inquired. 

“No college. I don’t think I was ever made for college. I struggled through high school. Of course, that could have been because I was interested in everything else but high school. That’s why I’m so glad my kiddo here got his mom’s brains. She was an overachiever, still is. I actually started just like my guys, doing the construction part. I got interested in how the job runs and wound up getting my certification. And about four years ago, they promoted me to project manager.”

So Mom definitely wasn’t gone but then why did he need a babysitter? Maybe she was busy too? Or maybe she lived out of town and they shared custody? And this was none of your business. Why were you so interested in what the situation was with mom? 

“Wow, that’s amazing. You must have really impressed them then. Going to college isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, anyway. I’ve told Eli, it all depends on what you want to do with your life. Some jobs don’t require college and they’re just as important. I mean, you build homes. You provide a space for families to start their lives and make memories. I think that’s pretty important work.”

A flush rose up along his neck, bright red against the yellow of his sweater. A small smile curved his lips as he tapped the table before looking up at you. The boys had long given up on your conversation, deeply entrenched in one of their own about the latest episode of X-men: Evolution. 

“I mean, you work in a pediatrician’s office, right? You help sick kids. I think that might be just a bit more important than what I do. But thanks. What do you do in the office, anyway? Are you the doctor?”

You laughed, “No. That was far more schooling than I was interested in doing. I’m a nurse but honestly, we know just as much as they do. Experience is way more educational than sitting in some class, listening to someone talk about stuff. Sometimes, I think we might know more than the doctors do. But Dr. Wilson is great to work with. He’s not one of those guys that talks down to his nurses or acts like he’s superior because he’s got that M.D. after his name. I worked with plenty of misogynist ego-driven jerks when I worked at the hospital. They act like they’re royalty or something. Dr. Wilson actually trusts us and values our input. He makes us feel like a part of a team instead of a dictatorship.”

The conversation flowed easily, the boys jumping in here and there, all four of you laughing and smiling as you enjoyed your pizza. You could not deny the feeling of rightness in this moment, this moment that was everything you had ever wanted for your son. It was a picture perfect moment in time, this little dinner at your kitchen table full of warmth and laughter. 

And no, you weren't insane. It wasn’t that you were looking at this as a family or that you were jumping ten steps ahead of just this pleasant evening. It was just nice to have a full table, to have it not be just you and Eli, to watch your son enjoying himself. He loved when Matt and Janice came for dinner but this was different. He had his best friend with him, the two boys sending each other into hysterics every thirty seconds.

For just this moment, this little slice of time, the weight had been lifted from your shoulders. The constant guilt that you weren't enough, that you could never be enough for your son. You could never be all of the things that he needed you to be. For just this moment, you thought maybe you didn’t have to be if you could surround him with people who provided everything he needed. 

“Alright, kiddo, we should probably get heading home so you can take a shower before bed,” Steve announced around seven thirty, pushing back from the table and standing up. He gathered the paper plates, tossing them in the trash. “Did you want help cleaning up before we head out?”

You waved your hand dismissively, “Oh no. That’s not necessary. Just a quick wipe down of the holders and popping the cups in the dishwasher. It will only take a couple minutes.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, seriously. No big deal. Besides, you bought the dinner so the least I can do is the clean up.”

“Yes, but I brought the dinner to thank you for watching my kid.”

 “Please. I offered to take him and having Jeremiah here saved me from having to wear the Superman cape and run around with Eli all evening. It was nice to just be an average human instead of a superhero tonight.”

“You’re a nurse,” Steve said with a soft smile, leaning into you, causing your heart to skip a beat. “Pretty sure you’re a superhero all the time.”

“Daddy, can Eli come to our house this weekend? Please? He really wants to meet Miles.”

“Miles?” you asked.

“It’s his dog!” Eli told you excitedly. “He wears capes too! Jeremiah said he can be my sidekick, Robin.”

"Which is silly because that's my Aunt Robin's name," Jeremiah added, "but the cape doesn't fit her so good so she's usually Catwoman because it's a mask and a tail."

Steve laughed, “Sure kid. He can come over. If it’s okay with his mom.”

“Fine with me,” you shrugged. Seeing the joy on your son’s face to get to spend time with his friend was all the reason you needed to readily agree. It definitely did not have to do with having the chance to see his dad again. No. That didn’t factor in at all.

“Okay, well, how about this?” Steve knelt down to his son’s level. “We’ve got baseball practice on Saturday until two. Why don’t we all go get ice cream afterward and then Jeremiah and his mom can come meet Miles afterward?”

“All of us?” you questioned, wondering if you'd heard him correctly.

He rose, head tilting forward, those eyes as warm as a chocolate chip cookie coming right out of the oven, and just as delicious. “Why not? I mean, if you have something else to do…”

“No. No, I don’t. I mean, that would be nice. We haven’t gotten ice cream yet since they opened. And I love dogs. Who doesn’t love dogs? Crazy people, right? So obviously meeting your dog would be fun. I just…I mean…yeah, okay.”

He appeared amused with you once again and you wished you could just pull the foot out of your mouth. It appeared to be permanently wedged there whenever he was around. 

“Good. Maybe we can even have a sleepover.” Your breath caught as his mouth dropped open, eyes going wide, one of those hands running nervously through his hair, sweeping it to the side. “I mean the boys. The boys could have a sleepover. At my house. If you’re okay with that?”

Had he meant what you thought he meant? Had that just been an innocent mistake or was he as attracted to you as you were to him? Trying to let your son hang out with his friend was proving to be far more complicated than you thought it would be when you'd approached him on the baseball field. 

“Yeah.” You weren't sure why. You hadn’t even let Eli stay the night anywhere before but there was just something about Steve that you trusted. “Eli would love that, honestly.”

“You’re gonna sleep at my house!” Jeremiah yelled, grabbing Eli’s hands, the two boys jumping around the kitchen. 

“Obviously, they’re both okay with it,” Steve chuckled, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “So, we’ll see you Saturday at practice?”

“Yeah. Saturday.”

You said your goodbyes, the boys both still screeching, talking about how it was only two more sleeps until their sleepover. Steve gave you one last smile and a little finger wave before turning and taking his son’s hand, leading him to his Ford Explorer that was parked just behind your Prius. 

“Mommy, are you and Jeremiah’s dad friends now too?”

“Kind of, I guess,” you shrugged.

“Cool because if you’re friends and want to play with each other all the time then me and Eli can play with each other all the time too!”

You gripped the door, closing it slowly behind you. Your son had no idea the implications of what he’d just said but you definitely did. Your entire body was vibrating with the implications of what he’d just said.

___________________________________________________________

“Daddy, when Eli spends the night can we make a fort like the one we made that one time where it was the whole living room? Remember? And we put up the Christmas lights inside and we put in our sleeping bags and pillows.”

Steve blinked, glancing up at his son in the rearview mirror. He’d completely missed everything that his kid had just said. The boy had been rambling from the moment they’d gotten in the car and he was having trouble focusing, his thoughts completely focused on the last hour of his day. 

You had been consuming all of his brain space since you'd approached him yesterday on the baseball field. Yeah, you were gorgeous. He’d noticed that instantly. Who wouldn’t? But there was something else about you, something that wouldn’t let his brain rest, something that kept poking at him, telling him to do something about these feelings you were stirring up inside him. 

And it had been so long since he’d had anything stirring inside of him. After him and Nancy had split four years ago, Steve had jumped right into another relationship. He struggled with being alone. According to Robin, it was his dysfunctional childhood. The little boy inside of him who never got the love he needed from his parents, constantly seeking it out in someone else. 

According to Robin, that was why he’d married Nancy even though the two of them had been all wrong for each other. He clung to the first solid thing that had come along and refused to see any of the millions of little signs that it wasn’t working. Of course, that was according to Robin, his best friend who thought she knew more about the internal workings of his mind than he did.

He’d dated Stacy for a year, convinced himself that she was the one, told Robin he was thinking of proposing and his obnoxious friend had slapped him upside the head. To be fair, he probably needed a good jarring, something to knock some sense into him. Marrying Stacy would have led to him being twice divorced. She had been even worse for him than Nancy. 

Not that there was anything wrong with Nance. No, she was amazing. She was smart, beautiful, kind, and an absolutely wonderful mother. Neither of them had ever cheated or hurt the other. They simply just weren’t a good fit. It seemed so obvious now when he could see how well her and Jonathan slid together, like two puzzle pieces locking into place perfectly. 

He’d dated a few other women after Stacy, most recently Janet, a single mother that he met at the park last summer. They’d made it about four months before he saw it was going nowhere. She was clingy, pushing for them to move in together, and it was in that moment that he realized he could not see a future with her. The idea of waking up next to her every day was exhausting. He’d ended it and she had not taken it well, calling him every name in the book, very loudly, in the middle of the restaurant he’d taken her to to try to soften the blow.

Steve didn’t lack for options. It felt like the moms of this town were throwing themselves at him constantly, some of them not even single. But none of them fit. None of them made him feel that thing, that thing that Robin said was like the Big Bang, everything exploding and then rearranging into this perfect arrangement. She kept telling him it was called falling in love, not forcing in love. He needed to stop trying to make it happen and just let it come to him. Yeah, well, that was easy for her to see, the girl who’d found the right person in high school.

Was that what he was doing right now? Was he just trying to force something to be what he wanted? Your kids were friends. You'd approached him because you wanted to set up a time for your sons to be able to play. It could be that simple. You might not even be interested in him or in anything. 

He knew your husband had died. Jere had told him that Eli’s dad was in heaven. But he didn’t know how and he didn’t know how long ago. Maybe you were still freshly grieving. You'd definitely struggled when you were talking about him tonight. If you were still in the midst of your grief, the last thing you needed was some guy trying to push you to go out with him sometime. 

No, he probably needed to just take a step back. Cool it off. Yeah, you were beautiful and you seemed far more real than most of the women in this town who were interested in him. But if he tried to force something that wasn’t there, he wouldn’t be the only one to suffer. Jere would too because he would inevitably lose his best friend when things went south. He couldn’t do that to him. 

“Daddy, are you even listening to me?” Jeremiah huffed from the backseat, breaking through Steve’s thoughts. 

“I’m sorry buddy. What did you say?”

“I said can we make a big fort when Eli comes with the lights and our sleeping bags and stuff?”

“Oh yeah. Of course, bud. We can definitely do that. You want to make some s’mores too?”

“Yeah! And can we have popcorn and watch the new Scooby Doo movie too?”

“Absolutely!” Steve replied, grinning in the mirror. “And I can grill some hamburgers and hot dogs. We’ll make it the best sleepover ever, kid.”

His son’s smile stretched from ear to ear, reminding Steve why he very much needed to focus on his son’s happiness instead of his loneliness. No, he didn’t need to jump into another relationship with some woman he’d just met. He was just seeing things he wanted to see, trying to rearrange the pieces into the image he was so desperate for.

“Is Eli's mommy gonna sleepover too? Our fort will be big enough.”

“Uh, no buddy,” Steve answered. “She’s gonna come over and see Miles but she’s not staying.”

“Why not? Don’t you want a friend, daddy?”

Yeah, he did. More than his son could possibly know.

Chapter 3

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Thank God For You || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - My friend’s husband just got back from an eight month tour and their first baby was born about a month before he left. Now that he’s back any time he tries to comfort the baby or take care of him alone the baby gets more fussy and upset... Read Rest Here

A/N: So sorry I'm so slow these days. Work is kicking my butt. Here's a cute lil one to tide you guys over until things slow down! Loved this one. It's shorter but oh so sweet. Love Jake as always!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 1.2k +

“Babe!” You ran down the stairs of your home stopping by the front door to look for your keys. You were still getting used to Jake being home after nine months away. He was shipped off to who knows what country, he couldn’t ever tell you, classification and what not, only three months after your daughter was born. Still being the emotional wreck you were, his mom moved in for a few months to help you out. And she actually did help. Her being there was literally your saving grace.

Jake walked out of the kitchen with a smile on his face. You, of course, had to return the smile to him. You’d missed him so damn much, “Hey.” He walked over to you stopping just shy of where you were.

“Hey.” Grinning, your eyes traced his face making sure to memorize every little detail you could. He loved his job, and you knew it, you just wished and prayed he didn’t have to go away for so long. But you knew what you were getting into all those years ago.

“You called?” He reminded you giving you a playful smirk when your eyes snapped back to reality.

“Yeah, I did.” You nodded, “I’m heading out to meet Allie at the mall. Nora’s down for her nap. She’ll need to be fed at three. Call me if you need anything. You got this babe.” You kissed his cheek trying to reassure the nervous father. He wouldn’t outright say it to you, but you weren’t dumb. You could see the hesitation, the looks over to you to make sure he was doing it right. It was hard and he was relearning it all with a brand-new baby to him. When he left she was barely three months and now she was becoming a toddler right before your eyes, almost a year old.

Nora Anne Seresin was a light to your life. She taught you so much about yourself. What unconditional love really looked like. You loved Jake, through and through but he could leave. You could never leave Nora, not ever. You finally understood what it meant, what all those moms said for years.

Jake picked out her name without even knowing it. He was putting names together after the two of you had found out you were pregnant. He was trying to mash up names like they had in Twilight. You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t be giddier and happier. When he mentioned Nora for his mom and Anne for your grandma it just worked. You’d called the baby Nora all the way up to her birth, you certainly couldn’t have changed it then.

Jake nodded back to you, “Can you make it home by 3:10?” He asked.

“I’ll try, but you’ll be just fine. She loves you. She’s just got to get used to you again.” You squeezed his shoulder.

“Love you.” He pulled you back in for a hug before letting you go.

“And I love you.” You shut the door behind you praying Nora wouldn’t make a fuss.

But boy were you wrong. When you walked through the front door at 3:30 it looked like a bomb went off. And you heard Nora screaming from the kitchen. Poor Jake. Poor Nora. You sighed setting your purse down before heading to the scene of the crime.

“Oh, thank God.” Jake audibly let out a sigh of immense relief when he spotted you in the kitchen, “She won’t eat.”

You walked over taking the bottle from your overly stressed husband, “It’s okay. She might not be hungry.” Setting it down on the counter you motioned for him to follow you with the fussy baby in his arms.

He looked perplexed, “We’re not starving her?”

Oh, your poor confused husband. Clueless as all get out. Not that you minded, he was on a ship and couldn’t exactly do research on them. He was used to the newborn who sucked down food almost every hour on the hour, “No, she’ll let us know when she’s hungry. I try to keep her on track. 7:00, 11:00, 3:00 and 8:00. But sometimes she’s just not hungry.” You sat down on the couch patting the seat beside you.

He sat down with the red cheeked fussy baby in his arms, “You’re stressing your papa out Norrie.” You poked your daughter on the nose trying to distract her. She was confused. Her world as flipped upside down too.

She looked right at you giving you the biggest grin with that happy toddler giggle that made your heart soar, “That’s right, yes you are.” You poked her again earning another round of giggles and laughter.

Jake was looking down watching the entire interaction a bit defeated. His daughter wanted nothing to do with him and everything to do with you. When he tried to hand Nora off to you, you simply refused knowing how much they both needed this. She knew you, trusted you. She was just learning Jake. She needed to trust his scent, his touch, and his voice too. Jake pulled her back into his side. She looked to you, when you gave her a nod and smile she seemed to finally give in. Resting her head on Jakes chest he watched as her tiredness overcame her stubbornness. Her bright eyes drifted off into a sleep. You watched Jake as he watched Nora. He too was looking at her like you were looking at him earlier, studying her face.

When he looked back at you there was that sadness there that you’d seen earlier, “What’s wrong J?” You asked him, pulling him right out of his own thoughts.

He sighed looking away from you. Was he embarrassed? “Jake?” You asked again in a softer tone.

“She doesn’t want anything to do with me honey.” He admitted in low tone, almost so you couldn’t hear him.

“She’s learning you.” You grabbed his free hand that wasn’t holding her close, “This is so new to her. She’s only known me. Look at her. That’s not the baby girl you had to leave nine months ago. She’s brand new. Brand new almost every day. It’s a pleasure to watch.” You gave his hand a squeeze, “And look at her, she’s sleeping on you babe. That wouldn’t have happened last week. Cut yourself a break, you’ve been home for a week.” You prayed that your words meant something to him.

He nodded looking back and forth between the two of you, “How do you always know what to say?”

You grinned, “That’s why you married me? Remember?”

He grinned before shooting you a mischievous wink, “If I wasn’t holding this baby right now I’d be putting another one inside you right now.” He contained his laughter seeing your eyes widen in shock. He just knew exactly what to say.

You threw your hand over your mouth trying your best not to gasp and wake poor Nora up, “Jake!”

He shrugged, “What? It’s true. You’re more beautiful than I remember my dear. So damn gorgeous.”

You shook your head trying to hide that blush he always seemed to get out of you, no matter how many years you’d been together now, “Thank God for Nora.” You winked right back at him playing the game he was so good at.

“Thank God for you.” His gaze gave away just how much he really did care for you.

Biting your cheek to hide the massive smile you stood from the couch letting the two of them bond alone, “You’re a sap Jake Seresin.”

He nodded right along, “Only for you my dear. Only for you.”

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i was looking through my masterlist and saw my new husband harvey post & inspo struck. hence, this.

contains ; fluff. sm fluff. new husband!harvey. fem!farmer. drabble. this might be kinda niche??😭😭 looking through harvey’s baby book <3

the boxes, once piled all throughout your previously vacant living room, now limited after the many hours spent working through them. you chose to take a chunk of your day off for this, helping him with the unpacking as he would’ve for you.

although you were leaving one chore for another, there was something so refreshing in the way you sorted through his old stuff, casually making comments about each item before placing it where you deemed fit.

you eventually got to one of the heavier boxes, filled with medical books you didn’t bother to open. just placing them beside you for him to move later.

towards the bottom were books you ended up recognizing from your own childhood, gushing short comments about how the nostalgia made your heart warm, and how you couldn’t wait to pass them onto your own children (which definitely didn’t go ignored by your husband.)

you reached for one that was unrecognizable to you, wide with a wrinkled spine and a puffy, plain cover. “what’s this?” you mumble absentmindedly, cracking it open to peek at the front page.

“hm?” he hums across the room, distracted with his own box.

the distressed corners of the open page, small bubble letters in text that instantly gave you the clue you needed, along with the neat writing of “harvey” underneath.

you gasp at the realization, a little too exaggerated in the way your lips pull to a pout and a loud, “aww,” whines from your throat.

“what?” he jumps, a frantic pinch in his eyebrows as he turns to face you.

you quickly open to the next page, where immediately, you melt.

there’s multiple photographs, the first one of a baby with thin, brown hair that’s hardly a month old. he’s being held in someone’s arms, someone you immediately recognize as your husband’s mother.

“it’s your baby book!” you chirp, leaning in to look at the photo with the softest eyes and the subtlest lip quiver.

the next photo underneath continues to be another baby photo, seemed to be taken the same day as the last, where he’s being held by his father. the sentimental aspect makes your heart ache.

“oh, i haven’t seen that in years.” harvey chuckles, now standing over you.

“aww, you look so cute. look at your little hands,” you gush, scanning the contents of each photo like it was your job.

you whine again when you flip to the next page. the photograph is of harvey, around age two at this point with short, messy brown hair. he’s got a shy smile on his face, cheeks red and due to the pumpkins in the background and the clothes he’s wearing, it’s clear it’s around autumn.

“i think that was my first time at a pumpkin patch.” he contextualizes, to which you let out another enamored squeal.

you don’t even pay attention to him taking a seat next to you, so captivated with the little book in your hands.

you continue to scan each photo, even a few that carry a small caption underneath. several candids of him at home, some at what you can only infer is an airport—wide shots of him standing next to large planes with an eager grin, or even just him sleeping on the couch that his mom or dad took purely for the sake of how silly it was.

he sits beside you, only a little interested with the photos, but more focused on how you react with each one.

the way your eyes crinkle each time you sweetly sigh. you’ve propped your feet on the coffee table, resting the book on your bent knees while flipping through each page, making sure not to skip a single one.

and each time you find a particularly sentimental photo, you look at him for the backstory that lies behind it.

you flip to a picture where he’s grinning wide at the camera, around age seven or eight. there’s a large gap between his teeth, and the context is clear in the way he’s holding up the missing tooth with his thumb and forefinger for the camera to see.

this is the first picture where he’s wearing glasses, similar to the ones he still adorned even 25 years later.

“harvey,” you drawl, tone pitched an octave higher as you still carry the same whine. “this is so sweet, why haven’t you ever shown me this?”

“i would’ve if i knew i still had it,” he explains, looking from you to the book.

he can’t even remember when he last thought of it. maybe the last time he actually spent this much time sifting through it was when he was in college, so to be sitting here with the woman he married only days ago, well, it did something to him.

the soft whimpers you’d let out looking at an old photo of him posing with armfuls of his favorite miniature planes.

how you giggled when you stumbled on a photo he remembers being vividly embarrassed about, teasing him for such while his cheeks grow red and you eagerly beg for the backstory, in which he won’t tell you, so you end up saying, “fine, i’ll just have to call your mom and ask about it later.”

and it feels like his whole world is falling into place when you lean in to get a closer look, whispering a quiet, “god, i want one, i want a little you.”

Sweet Creature

A househusband!Harry fic.

Summary: Harry’s daughter wants him to sing with her at the school talent show. The only problem is… He has stage fright.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: slight angst (father-daughter disagreement)

A/N: Didn’t realize I would enjoy writing dadrry this much. I hope it’s as fun to read as it was to write :)

***

Y/N is not a morning person. At all. She would live like a night owl if she didn’t have to get up at the ass crack of dawn every day for work. On the bright side, she’s one of the few lucky people on this planet who actually loves her job. It has allowed her to build a comfortable life for her family, and early mornings are only a minor trade-off.

Besides, her mood always brightens up as soon as she heads downstairs and hears the lively chatter of her husband, Harry, and their eight-year-old daughter, Savannah, emanating from the kitchen. Unlike her, mornings are not a problem for Harry and Savannah. It’s like they both wake up with permanent smiles plastered to their beautiful faces.

“Good morning, my angels,” she greets them as she enters the kitchen.

“Morning, Mom,” replies Savannah from the dining table, her little voice muffled by a mouthful of cereal. Y/N kisses the top of her head.

“Morning, Mama. You’re right on time for breakfast,” says Harry, transferring scrambled eggs onto a plate for Y/N. “Oh, and I’ve put your lunch right by the door so you won’t forget it this time.”

She thanks him and gives him a kiss on the cheek. As she’s pouring herself a cup of coffee, Savannah asks, “Daddy, are you a musician?”

“A musician?” Harry responds distractedly as he carries the pan he used to cook the eggs over to the sink.

“Yeah! Yesterday at recess, Kayley told everyone that her dad is a musician.”

Who’s Kayley? Y/N mouths to Harry. Although she isn’t able to spend as much time with her daughter as Harry due to work, she makes every effort to be present in her life and keep track of all the little details, like the names of her friends. So, the mention of this unfamiliar name comes as a surprise to her.

New classmate, Harry mouths back.

Meanwhile, Savannah, oblivious to the silent exchange between her parents, continues with her story, “She said he makes music with his friends and they have a lot of fans on the internet, so I said ‘my dad is a musician too!’ Then Kayley asked if you have any fans on the internet, and I said no, you only play music for me and Mom, and then Kayley said ‘that’s not a musician.’ ”

“Well, I suppose she has a point,” says Harry, running cold water over the pan.

Y/N frowns. “What? You write your own music all the time. Just because you’re not posting it online doesn’t mean you’re not a musician.”

“Maybe an amateur musician?” he suggests with a shrug.

Turning to her daughter, Y/N states, “Savvy, your father is a musician.”

Savannah perks up in her seat like bread popping out of a toaster. “Okay! I’ll let Kayley know.”

“You do that, honey.” When Y/N looks back at Harry, a small smile has emerged on his face, one that he tries to conceal by staring down into the sink, but the dimple in his cheek gives him away.

He likes to pretend that he’s not serious about his music, that songwriting is just a fun little hobby he dabbles in once in a while without putting any real effort into it. But Y/N knows how deep his passion for music runs. His songs are his babies. She often tells him to make more time for songwriting, though he never listens. He devotes so much of his time to other people—taking care of housework so that Y/N can focus on her job, supporting Savannah’s education and extra-curricular activities, and volunteering in the community, even offering free guitar lessons to kids. Rarely does he make time for himself and his own hobbies.

Y/N now takes her breakfast over to the dining table and sits across from her daughter.

“The spring talent show is coming up,” announces Savannah.

Y/N’s face lights up. “Oh, fun! I love going to those.”

Savannah’s school hosts talent shows every spring and fall. Everything from singing and dancing to reading poems and doing magic tricks is permitted, as long as it’s been vetted by the show organizer, Ms. Lee. Savannah always sings; she has yet to miss a show.

“Which song are you performing this time?” asks Y/N.

“I’m not performing,” she mumbles, playing around with the last bit of cereal in her bowl.

“Aw, why not? I thought you loved performing.”

“Yeah... But Kayley told everyone she’s singing a song with her dad and Ms. Lee allowed it. Now the other kids are bringing their parents on stage too. I wanted Daddy to play guitar and sing with me, but he said no.”

Y/N gasps and turns to Harry. “What? Why?”

She can see him struggling to come up with an answer, eventually settling on, “I’ve never performed for a proper audience before.”

“Harry, it’s a school talent show. The audience is going to be kids.”

He scoffs. “Are you joking? The audience is always full of parents. Remember the last one we went to? Place was so packed with parents, they ran out of seats.”

She can’t argue with that. Savannah’s school is quite big for an elementary school. The auditorium can hold up to five hundred people, and it’s always at full capacity on the night of a talent show. Parents aren’t the only ones in attendance but also grandparents, aunts, and uncles, as well as teachers and other school staff. It’s a popular event.

“Okay, well, it doesn’t matter anyway,” says Y/N. “You have an amazing voice. So does Savvy. And the two of you together will blow everyone away.”

He doesn’t seem convinced. “I dunno…” Turning to Savannah, he suggests, “Maybe you and your mum can do something instead.”

“Mom can’t even sing!”

Harry shoots her a disapproving look. “Savvy, that’s rude.”

Y/N chuckles. “I mean, she’s not wrong.”

“Well, your mum likes to dance, so maybe you can do a dance routine together.”

“But I don’t wanna dance!” Savannah protests, growing frustrated with her father’s deflections. “I wanna sing with you.”

He lets out a sigh, leaning his hip against the sink and crossing his arms, as he glances back and forth between his wife and daughter.

“Will you at least think it over?” asks Y/N. “Savvy, when’s the talent show?”

“It’s at the end of the month, but Ms. Lee said we have to prepare something by next Wednesday to show her.”

“That’s not very far away,” mutters Harry.

“Well, the sooner you make up your mind, the more time you’ll have to prepare,” says Y/N.

He narrows his eyes at her. She just smiles and bats her eyelashes at him.

“All right, all right,” he says finally, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I will think about it.”

Savannah squeals with glee.

***

It’s been a year and a half since Harry started teaching kids to play guitar. The first child he ever taught was a shy little boy named Jordi who was one class below Savannah. Harry knew Jordi’s mother from parent council meetings, and she sometimes asked him to watch her son for a couple hours after school until she got off work.

Whenever Jordi was over, Savannah would take out the little guitar that her parents had gifted her for Christmas and play with it, often strumming the same two chords over and over because that was all she knew. Jordi would watch on with an awestruck face. He would never utter a word, but Harry could tell that he wanted to try playing it himself.

It took some convincing, some lecturing about “sharing is caring” to get Savannah to lend her guitar to Jordi, but once he got his hands on that thing, he was hooked. Harry enjoyed teaching Jordi. In many ways, the boy reminded him of himself when he was younger.

Word got around on the school playground that Jordi learned to play guitar from Savannah’s dad, and suddenly, Harry had parents asking him if he would teach their kids as well. Not wanting to overwhelm himself, he took on only a small number of kids. Nowadays, he teaches four kids and sees each of them for a couple hours a week.

He doesn’t charge anything for the lessons, even though some parents insist on paying him. He doesn’t need the money. Y/N’s job rakes in so much that any amount he might make from the lessons would be a tiny drop in the bucket of their family income. He also knows that some of the kids he teaches come from low-income backgrounds, and it wouldn’t feel right charging their parents for lessons when they can hardly afford a babysitter.

The child he’s working with today is one of Savannah’s school friends, Jasmine. They finish around 6 p.m. when Maria, Jasmine’s mother, drops by to pick her up. Harry follows Jasmine out the front door to greet her mother on the porch.

“How was the lesson?” asks Maria.

“It was good. I learned to play a song,” replies Jasmine, clasping her hands behind her back and beaming up at her mother proudly.

“Wow! Already?”

“Yeah, she’s a pro,” says Harry, telling Jasmine, “We should have your mum sit in on the next one so you can show her how good you are.”

The girl eagerly nods in agreement. “Okay!”

Maria smiles and places a loving hand on Jasmine’s head. Then she says to Harry, “Hey, I heard you and Savannah are singing at the talent show together.”

His eyebrows lift up. He has yet to tell Savannah his decision about the talent show, but it seems she’s already been going around telling people that he’s performing with her.

“Oh, um… Yeah, I—I guess I am.” He rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat. “How about you? Are you and Jasmine doing something together?”

“Hell no!” She gives a hearty laugh. “Can you imagine me getting up in front of all those people and putting on a performance?”

“Sure, why not? You seem like a talented lady.”

She snorts. “Even if that were true, I couldn’t do it. See, kids have an excuse. If they mess up, it’s like, ‘oh they’re kids, they’re adorable.’ But us adults? We don’t get excuses.” She shakes her head. “You’re brave.”

“Thanks,” he replies half-heartedly. He knows her words were meant to be a compliment, but all they do is make him even more terrified about the prospect of being on stage.

“Well, Jasmine and I should head home. See you next week, same time?”

“Yup. See you next week. Bye, Jasmine.” He smiles and waves at the little girl.

“Bye, Harry!” Jasmine waves back as her mom leads her down the driveway.

He heads back into the house and goes upstairs to Savannah’s room, which is down the hall from his and Y/N’s bedroom. As he approaches, he can hear Y/N helping Savannah with her math homework. Harry loathes math. Y/N doesn’t mind it. They have a mutual understanding that when it comes to math homework, Savannah is better off going to her mother first.

The door to her room is open. She sits cross-legged on her double bed with her math notebook open in front of her, a colourful feather-topped pencil gripped between her fingers. Y/N lies on her side across the bed, propped up on one elbow; she smiles at Harry as he enters. Savannah is engrossed in the question she’s working on, brow furrowed in concentration as she stares down at her notebook.

“Is the answer fourteen?” she asks her mother.

Y/N nods. “You got it.”

She scribbles her answer in the book.

“How’d the lesson go?” Y/N asks Harry.

“Went well,” he responds, standing next to the bed. “Had a chat with Jasmine’s mum just now. She was asking about the talent show. Apparently, a little birdie told her that Savvy and I performing together.”

Y/N acts surprised. “Oh! I wonder which little birdie told her that.”

Harry and Y/N both slowly turn to look at their daughter, who tilts her chin into her neck to avoid their gazes. Harry reaches out and starts tickling her sides, making her giggle hysterically.

“Was it you?” he asks.

“No!”

“Are you sure about that?”

Savannah topples over onto her side, squirming and snickering into the mattress as he continues tickling her until finally, she caves. “It was me! It was me!”

The tickling ceases. Some residual giggles escape her before she straightens up to look at her father with sugary sweet eyes that resemble her mother’s.

“I thought we agreed that I was going to think about it,” he says.

She huffs out a sigh. “It’s been two days, Dad. How much thinking can a person do?”

He and Y/N exchange amused looks.

“Well, you’re in luck,” he says, “because I had actually made up my mind and I was going to wait until dinner to tell you, but I suppose I’ll tell you now...” He pauses for dramatic effect, watching as Savannah holds her breath in anticipation. “I will sing with you at the talent show.”

“Woohoooo!” Savannah jumps to her feet on the bed and launches herself into her father’s arms. He catches her before she can plummet to the floor, stumbling backwards a little.

“Sav! Be careful,” Y/N scolds.

She wraps her arms and legs around him like a koala bear and kisses him on the cheek. “Best dad in the world!”

He chuckles and squeezes her tight before setting her back down on the bed. “Have you thought of what song you want to do?”

“Oh, oh, oh! Can we do the one we sang for Mom’s birthday?”

He thinks back to Y/N’s birthday a few months ago. He had just finished working on a new song that he named Sweet Creature. Knowing how much his wife relishes hearing him and Savannah sing together, he decided to surprise her with a father-daughter duet. Savannah has a remarkably sharp memory when it comes to music, so it didn’t take her long to learn the lyrics and melody.

“You mean Sweet Creature?” he asks.

“Yeah, that one!”

“Um… Are you sure you don’t want to do a Disney song or something?”

She shakes her head adamantly.

Singing in front of people is nerve-wracking enough on its own, but to sing an original song that no one has heard, except for Y/N and Savannah, will take those nerves to a whole other level.

“I think that’s a great idea, Savvy,” Y/N chimes in.

He gives her a slightly frustrated look.

She shrugs. “What? I think people deserve to hear your beautiful music. It’s actually a crime that you keep it hidden away from the world, you know?”

A little smile cracks through his frustration. “Okay, I suppose we can try that one and a few others and see what works.”

Despite how far out of his comfort zone this is, the excitement that appears on Savannah’s face, and even Y/N’s, every time they discuss the talent show makes his heart sing. It might be the only reason he hasn’t scrapped the idea altogether.

***

“But I don’t wanna do that song.”

Y/N stirs on the couch, pulled from her deep slumber by the sound of Savannah’s disgruntled voice coming from the den. It’s been an hour since she got home from work. Harry and Savannah have been rehearsing for the talent show all evening, so she decided to unwind by watching TV in the living room but fell asleep not even ten minutes into the show she was watching.

“Okay, then we’ll pick another one,” she hears Harry reply. “How about the one from that movie—”

“No! I wanna do your song,” insists Savannah.

“Well, we can’t always get what we want, Sav.” His dwindling patience is evident in his tone. He rarely speaks to their daughter so bluntly.

“But you promised!”

“I did not promise. I said we’d try out a few different songs and see what works.”

“You’re a liar!”

“Savvy, that’s not very ni—”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire!”

“Savannah, come back here plea—”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire!”

She comes storming out of the den and over to Y/N. Perching herself on the edge of the couch, she crosses her arms over her chest, face set in a deep frown.

“What happened, Sav?” Y/N probes gently.

“Daddy promised we would sing his song for the talent show and now he says we can’t!”

“Baby, I’m sure he has a good reason.”

“Can’t you just tell him we have to sing it? He always does what you tell him.”

She presses her lips together and shakes her head sympathetically. “I can’t make your father do something he doesn’t want to do.”

“Yes, you can! You can make him do anything! He never says no to you. Only to me.” A sad pout forms on her lips.

“No, honey, I…”

Savannah’s eyes fill with tears. She stands up and scurries off upstairs.

Y/N has never seen herself as a pushy person. Although leadership comes naturally to her, allowing her to climb the corporate ladder with greater ease than most, she has never been the kind of leader that forces others to do things they’re not comfortable with. People, both in her personal life and work life, have commended her ability to push others to reach their full potential without being overbearing. However, Savannah’s words make her wonder if she might have pushed Harry too hard. A pit of guilt forms in her stomach.

Harry emerges from the den with a weary look on his face.

“Where’d she go?” he asks Y/N.

“Upstairs.”

He plops down on the couch next to her with a heavy sigh. She brings a hand to the back of his head, running her fingers through his soft curls.

“Savvy and I are having creative differences,” he states, earning an amused chuckle from Y/N. “She really wants to sing Sweet Creature. I feel like it’s too slow, maybe too mature for a school talent show. I wanted to try looking up some fun, upbeat songs, but she wasn’t having it.”

“It’s okay. Let her cool off for a bit. Then we’ll go and explain to her that you’re just not comfortable doing one of your songs.”

“It’s not that I’m not comfortable with it. I just don’t think it’s the right song choice.”

“H, you don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not—” He groans and runs his hands down his face. “God, why does my family think I’m a liar?”

She places a hand on his cheek, turning his face towards her. “I don’t think you’re a liar. I just think somewhere deep down, you know that the real reason you don’t want to do this song isn’t because it’s too slow or too mature but because the thought of sharing your music with people scares you.”

His green eyes blink back at her. He shakes his head. “You always read me like a book.”

She smiles. “Look, I’m the one who talked you into this. You had already told Savannah no and she accepted your answer. And then I came butting in, pushing you to reconsider. And now, she thinks I can just wave a magic wand and make her father do whatever I want, even if he’s not comfortable with it, which is not exactly the kind of example I want to be setting for my daughter.” She sighs. “I’m sorry if I pushed you too hard.”

“It’s all right,” he replies. “I need the push sometimes, honestly.”

She tilts his face more towards her and kisses him softly on the lips. When they part, she catches movement on the stairs from the corner of her eye. She turns to find Savannah sitting on the second last step, staring at the two of them from behind the vertical posts of the bannister.

“I’m hungry,” the girl declares.

Harry glances at the clock above the fireplace. “Oh, it’s late. I should get started on dinner.”

“Why don’t we all cook together?” suggests Y/N.

“Are you sure you’re not too tired?” he asks.

“No, I’m good.” She rises to her feet. “I think it’ll be fun. What do you think, Savvy?”

“Um… okay.”

“Awesome!” Placing her hands on her hips, Y/N turns to Harry and says, “Well, Dad, you’re in charge. You tell us what to do and we will get it done.”

He gazes up at her, eyes glinting with affection and amusement.

“Okay?” she asks.

He nods. “Okay.”

The three of them head to the kitchen where Harry begins delegating tasks. Y/N decides to put on some music. Although Savannah stays closed-off for the first little while, clearly embarrassed about her earlier outburst, she slowly starts to warm up, unable to resist the cheery atmosphere created by the music and her parents’ corny jokes. Soon enough, she’s singing into a wooden spoon and being twirled around the kitchen by her father, while Y/N stays by the stove to make sure their dinner doesn’t burn.

Later that night, Harry and Savannah have a serious talk to sort out their “creative differences.” She apologizes for calling him a liar and storming off; he ultimately decides they should stick with Sweet Creature as their song. Y/N also speaks with Savannah to stress that her father is not a puppet who will do whatever he’s told without question, that he deserves the same respect that Savannah shows to her mother.

***

On the day of the talent show, Y/N dashes straight home from work, buzzing with excitement to see her two angels on stage tonight. They’re already dressed and ready to go by the time she gets home, so she quickly changes out of her work clothes and touches up her makeup before driving them all to the school.

Harry and Savannah head to the music room, where Ms. Lee had instructed all of tonight’s performers to gather. Meanwhile, Y/N joins the other attendees in the auditorium. It’s still early and people are slowly trickling in. A refreshments table has been set up at the back, serving coffee, juice, and baked goods. Y/N helps herself to a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin before finding a seat a few rows away from the stage.

The show consists of a variety of acts. A mother-daughter dancing duo, a father-son comedy skit, a grandfather-granddaughter magic act, and so much more. Y/N finally sees Kayley for the first time when she appears on stage to sing a piano ballad with her father. At the end of their performance, she thinks, “Savvy and Harry are gonna blow them out of the water.” It’s not a competition by any means, but that doesn’t stop her competitive side from coming out anyway.

Halfway through the show, her phone vibrates in her pocket with a text from Harry.

H: Can you come to the restrooms by the kindergarten classrooms? I need you.

Y/N: On my way

She stands and makes her way out of the auditorium, trying to cause as little disruption as possible. She finds Harry pacing back and forth in the hallway outside the restrooms. His outfit consists of a ringer tee with little strawberries printed all over it paired with bright green trousers. He matches with Savannah, who wore a strawberry-print skirt for tonight. His hair was perfectly styled when they left the house but now looks a bit ruffled, probably from nervously running his hands through it too much.

“Hi, honey,” she says. “Everything okay?”

He stops pacing to look at her. “No, I’m literally shitting my pants.”

A couple of older women were exiting the restroom right as he said that. They shoot him a disgusted glare.

His eyes widen, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Sorry, I—I didn’t mean literally. I was just exaggera—”

Y/N grabs his hand and pulls him into one of the classrooms nearby so they can speak in private.

“Where’s Savannah?” she asks him.

“Backstage, waiting for our turn.” He runs a hand through his hair again. “She’s not nervous at all, Y/N. Our eight-year-old daughter isn’t nervous at all about getting up in front of all those people. Meanwhile, I, a grown man, am hiding out by the restrooms.” His words come out in a frantic half-whisper, topped with a slightly crazed look in his eyes. Just as he reaches up to mess with his hair again, Y/N takes his hands.

“H, it’s okay to be nervous,” she tells him softly. “Of course you’re nervous. You’ve never done this before. Getting on stage? Singing one of your own songs? That would terrify just about anyone. Not all of us can be natural-born stars like Savannah.”

“I don’t want my nerves to ruin this for her,” he admits. “That’s what I’m most afraid of. Making a fool of myself is one thing, but disappointing our daughter is another.”

Y/N smiles, overwhelmed with fondness for the man standing before her. “Harry, she’s already so happy that you’re even doing this with her. She’s going to love you regardless.”

He nods and takes a deep breath in, blowing it out through his mouth. Then he says, “She’s just like you, you know. She has your confidence.”

“Well, she has your talents.”

“Wonder where she got the stubbornness from,” he mutters with a teasing lilt to his voice.

“That would be you, obviously.”

His face contorts with disbelief. “Me?!”

“Indeed.” She walks out of the classroom with Harry following close behind.

He scoffs. “No way. It’s you and you know it.”

“Nope.”

“Yup.”

“Nope.”

“Yup.”

They “nope” and “yup” their way back to the auditorium. She reminds him once again that he’s an amazing father for agreeing to do this and gives him a kiss for good luck before they part ways.

Harry and Savannah’s performance happens towards the end of the show.

“Our next act of the night is a father-daughter duet,” Ms. Lee announces into the mic. “We have Savannah and Harry singing an original song called Sweet Creature.”

Everyone applauds as the duo makes their way on stage. Their mic stands are already set up a few feet apart, slightly angled towards each other. Harry walks over to the taller one, his acoustic guitar slung over his shoulder. Savannah takes her place in front of the shorter mic. They look adorable in their matching outfits, their eyes sparkling under the stage lights. Y/N’s cheeks already hurt from smiling.

The two share a quick glance before Harry begins strumming his guitar. Soon, Savannah’s mellifluous voice fills the auditorium. She mostly sings the verses by herself, with Harry jumping in on every other line, his voice blending seamlessly with hers. The chorus—Y/N’s favourite part of the whole song—is sung together.

Ironically, Harry’s eyes find Y/N in the audience right as he sings, “We’re both stubborn, I know.” She flashes him a knowing grin. 

The end of their performance is met with thunderous applause filling the auditorium. Harry claps too, directly at Savannah, who returns the sweet gesture. The two of them take a bow before exiting the stage.

After the last few acts, the talent show draws to a close. People rise from their seats to mingle and compliment the performers on their work. Harry and Savannah make their way through the crowd to Y/N, who pulls them both into a loving embrace.

“You guys were amazing,” she praises. “I’m so, so proud of you.”

“Savannah! Savannah!” They hear Savannah’s friends beckoning her nearby.

“I’ll be right back,” she tells her parents before running over to her friends.

Y/N looks at Harry. “Well? How did that feel?”

He takes a deep breath, squinting his eyes a bit. “Terrifying… But good.”

“The single moms are going to be all over you after that performance.”

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“It’s true. They’re actually on their way over here right now.” She glances over his shoulder.

“No, they’re not.”

“Yes, they are. In three… two… one…”

Right on cue, a group of three women appear from behind Harry, swarming around him like moths to a flame.

“Harry!” shouts one of them. “We didn’t know you could sing.” She places a hand on his arm.

“You and your daughter are the most adorable things I’ve ever seen,” says another.

“You’re so talented,” says the third.

“Thank you so much,” he replies sincerely.

“What song was that? I’ve never heard it before.”

“Oh, I wrote it.”

The women gasp and share shocked glances. “You wrote that?!”

Y/N tries not to laugh at their over-the-top reactions to everything he says. Instead, she decides to go talk to a few other parents while her husband basks in the glory of his newfound rockstar status.

A while later, she’s standing by the entrance to the auditorium, swiping through the pictures she took on her phone during the show, when she hears Harry whisper in her ear from behind, “Why’d you leave me alone with them?”

She turns to him, laughing at the annoyed expression on his face. “What do you mean? I was letting you have your moment. Kind of hard to soak in all that female attention with your wife standing right next to you, isn’t it?” She asks the question teasingly, curious to see how he’ll react. And as usual, his response reminds her of why she married him in the first place.

“I don’t want their attention,” he whines, squeezing her waist. “I want yours.”

“Aww.” She caresses his cheek and kisses him. “Well, maybe we should get out of here so you can have all my attention.”

His expression changes, the slightest hint of lust swimming in his green irises. “Okay, let’s find Savvy.”

“Oh, Jasmine’s mom let me know she’s taking them out for pizza. She’ll drop Savvy home after. So, yes, for the next couple hours, you have all of my attention,” she tells him, smirking.

The hint of lust turns into full-blown desire. Without another word, he starts pulling her towards the exit.

***

Thank you for reading! For more househusband!Harry and other fics, check out my MASTERLIST

Taste

Lee Felix x reader (f)

Genre: smut (minors DNI)

WC: 1k

Warnings: slight dom/sub dynamics if you squint (dom!felix), dirty talk, fingering, oral (f receiving), messy childhood friends to lovers

A/N: This is a reupload from my old sideblog linoguistics, so you might've seen this on tumblr before! The prompt (as requested by @minisugakoobies) for this drabble is "I want to taste you."

© hobivore Reposts, translations and modifications are not allowed. All events and characters are fictional and for entertainment purposes only.

SKZ masterlist | Ask box

“We’re so happy you could make it, Felix. It’s been too long.”

Felix smiles at your father, bright, his response—something about the years flying by—lost to your ears as he draws figure eights on your thigh underneath the table, the pads of his fingers burning through the fabric of your trousers. 

If he were anyone else, your parents might’ve read more into the stolen glances you’ve been sending each other all evening. But this is Felix, the boy you grew up with; your best friend since kindergarten, who’d been at your side for as long as you can remember. Primary school, high school, college, even your first real job that didn’t involve working odd hours at the university’s library: Felix has been there through it all. 

Felix, who’d kissed your mum on the cheek when you arrived, giggling as she told him how much he’s grown, even though he stopped growing years ago. 

And it’d been that same Felix who had dragged you upstairs to bring his luggage to the guest bedroom, pressing you up against the door upon entering, hungry, down onto your knees, thrusting into your mouth while holding your wrists pinned above your head until your dad’s voice called out for dinner. 

It’s impossible to concentrate on dessert when your best friend’s hand inches up your thigh slowly, torturous—the situation made even worse as he bends over, his breath ghosting the shell of your ear.

“Your mum’s cheesecake is just as good as I remember.” He chuckles when you rub your thighs together, voice dropping even lower as he continues, “but I want to taste you.”

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to hurry upstairs—concerned parents brushing off your offer to help clean up, insisting you should rest after such a long exhausting flight—and you let him lead you into your old bedroom, heart pounding against your ribcage, panties sticking to your skin uncomfortably. 

He notices, of course—peeling them off your body with a reproachful tut, spreading your thighs with his hands as his face hovers inches above you. “This wet already? From just a bit of teasing?”

You come up to your elbows, impatient, head lolling back when he spreads your folds with two fingers and blows hot air on your slick core, grinning at your choked-off response.

“Lix—please, come on,” you whine, pent-up frustration from the hours of teasing bubbling to the surface again, body aching for his touch. 

He spits on your pussy, watching the dollop of saliva drip down, his index finger catching it before circling around your entrance, making you bite the inside of your cheek to avoid a moan from spilling past your lips. 

“What do you want?” Felix asks.

“Just—I need something, please, your fingers, your cock—” you ramble as he continues his motions, hating how such a simple touch muddles up your thoughts. Your hips move on their own volition in search of more friction, but Felix holds them down with a forearm wrapped around your thigh. 

He laughs, his breath tickling your skin again, making you shiver. “I don’t know, baby,” he murmurs. “Do you think you deserve it? You’re so greedy.” 

His finger is still circling your entrance and you clench around nothing, arousal leaking onto his hand. “And desperate,” he adds at the sight, grinning. “Maybe,” he continues, heavy-lidded eyes finding yours, “I’ll make you come on my tongue, then let you ride my cock—make you fuck yourself through it.” 

Your core aches at his words and Felix brings his hand up in front of his face, licking his fingers clean before pinning your thighs to the bed. Burning hotly, you squirm in his grip as he takes in the sight of you. His gaze trails over your body, pretty lips curling into an amused smile. “If you can do it—I don’t think you’ll be able to, after I’m done,” he contemplates. “I’ve barely touched you and you’re already a mess.” 

He’s not wrong, of course—but his words are just the right amount of condescending to make you grit your teeth, head coming up again, eyes narrowing. “I can do it.”

“We’ll see,” Felix smiles, all teeth and crinkled eyes, before dipping his head down. He quickly settles into a rhythm that has you writhing against the sheets, his tongue playing with your clit, teasing you until you’re at the brink of release only to pull back again. 

It’s wet and messy—slick noises fill up the room when he adds two fingers, and you push your own into your mouth, sucking on them, not wanting anyone else but Felix to hear the soft whimpers uttered under your breath. 

Your thighs are slippery with arousal and spit, dripping onto the sheets below, still the same—now faded—floral motif your mother bought all those years ago. Your cheeks heat at the thought of what they’ve seen; countless nights spent with Felix, hiding from the world, stolen kisses between breathless gasps. 

“For old times’ sake,” he says every time he undresses you, and each time you lie to yourself, thinking this night will be the last. 

But what’s a little bit of fun between friends? 

It’s another lie—sloppy, open-mouthed love bites down your neck, sharp teeth grazing your skin. Felix knows every curve and dip of your body, mastered proficiency through tracing it with his tongue. 

The right amount of pressure, now three fingers stretching you, his lips around your clit as he sucks, harshly, humming when he feels your thighs starting to shake. 

“Fuck—don’t stop, don’t stop,” you urge him on, and you can see your own hunger reflected in his eyes. Their intensity is almost unbearable.

Have I ever let you down? 

Never.

You come with a sob, tugging on his hair when the pleasure fades into the pinpricks of overstimulation. Felix crawls his way up on the bed until his body is next to yours and flops onto his back, a big grin still plastered onto his glistening face. He licks his lips, hand lazily stroking his cock, inviting. 

“Come on then, angel. Show me what you’ve got.”

Thank you for reading! If you liked this story please reblog, leave a comment, tell a friend, send me a pigeon, launch a mars rover. Your encouragement fuels my inner writer cryptid 👾

Sandcastles

CEO Husband Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky is always working overtime, but when his best girls really need him, he leaves everything behind just to make you happy.

Words count: 1.6k

Warnings: fluff, dad and husband Bucky, like one curse word.

Author’s note: just a cute little drabble. obviously, Sebastian’s pictures from Paris inspired me, so enjoy <3

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Bucky Barnes was a busy man. Running a multi-million-dollar company wasn’t the easiest thing, but something that he cared more about than this job was his family. His beautiful wife and daughter.

You always loved and appreciated the attention, support, and endless love that your husband gave, even when you just started dating eight years ago. As soon as you met, it took some time for both of you to finally admit your feelings, but when you got together, it was perfect. You’ve never felt that way in your life before. When you were younger, everyone told you that you wouldn’t be able to find a person because of your high standards, but when you started dating James Buchanan Barnes, you knew that it was forever.

A beautiful, respectful, and caring man who would do anything for you.

For the past two months, he has been more distant. His company was getting bigger; he had too many meetings, and too many new things required his whole attention. You understood it; of course you did. But you would be lying if you said that you didn’t miss him. Your daughter felt it too. She was totally daddy’s girl, so being away from him for too long upset her, even though she was trying to be tough and careless, just like her dad when he was working.

You talked to her about her dad’s work, and she was a smart girl for a 3-year-old. She understood that he has a lot to do right now and that he still loves her more than anything in this world.

Today he returned home only after 2 am., you heard that he went to take a shower in a different room, probably not to wake you up. But you were too eager to spend as much time with him as possible, even if it was when he was falling asleep.

Bucky came into the room quietly. As soon as he got under the blanket, his warm and strong arms wrapped around you. He pulled you closer to him, burying his nose into your neck.

"I’m sorry, doll. Again." He took a deep breath, enjoying your scent, which he missed so much. "I love you."

"That’s okay, baby." You moved even closer to him, burying your fingers into his wet hair, and left a kiss on his temple. "I love you too. Now take some rest."

You hadn't even started to fall asleep when you heard a weird noise outside your bedroom, and then the door slightly opened.

"Daddy? Mommy?" A little voice came through the silence of the room. "Are you asleep?" Your daughter suddenly sobbed, and you and Bucky immediately sat on the bed, reaching for the nightstand lamps.

"Hey, angel, what happened? Come here." Bucky’s voice was very soft and gentle, as always when he talked to your daughter. She came closer to the bed, and Bucky picked her up, putting her on his lap. She was tightly holding her favorite white wolf, which you gifted Bucky as a joke because of his nickname at work. Your daughter's eyes were a little bit red, her hair messy, and her cheeks wet with tears. You moved closer to them, gently rubbing her face.

"What’s going on? You saw a bad dream?" You quietly asked, but she just shook her head.

"I— I—" She was obviously too upset to put her words together, so Bucky started to rub her back, whispering a quiet "sh-h".

"I— miss you, daddy." As soon as these words left her mouth, you and Bucky froze, and she started crying even harder. "I don’t s-see you, and me and mom—mommy are always alone."

Bucky looked you in the eyes, and you saw that his own were full of tears. The last thing he wanted to do was upset either of you. He felt that his heart was ripping apart. You made your daughter cry, you idiot. Your wife deserves better.

You just put your hand on his shoulder and squeezed, already knowing where his mind went. He always wanted to give his family everything, and the fact that he put work above his two favorite people in the world made him sick.

"Angel, hey, baby, look at me." Bucky turned back to your daughter, grabbing her little face with his hands and gently wiping away her tears. "I promise that the day after tomorrow we will go somewhere. Only mommy, you, and me, okay?"

"But—but you’re working."

"I know, angel. But I didn't want to make you feel lonely or to stay away for too long from your mom." He grabbed your hand and brought it to his mouth to leave a kiss. "We will go wherever you want to. Maybe stay there for the week. You would like that?" He smiled at your daughter, and she happily giggled, wrapping herself around Bucky’s neck. "I love you. Both of you. You two are my whole life, and I'll do anything to make you happy."

You softly smiled at him, leaning in to leave a quick kiss on his lips.

Your daughter put away her white wolf and opened her other arm, wanting you to join her and Bucky in a hug.

That night she stayed in your bed because she almost passed out in Bucky’s arms but still held onto you both too tightly. The three of you happily curled under the blanket, with your daughter in between. Bucky knew that it was time for him to finally make the right decision. To choose his family.

As Bucky promised, one day later your little family was on a vacation where no one could disturb you. He left Steve, Sam, and Natasha, his closest and oldest friends, in charge of everything, canceled all the meetings, and took you and your daughter on the private jet that brought you here. One of the most beautiful places you’ve ever been

It was quiet. No strangers, no annoying noise, no worries. Just the three of you on the beach with a perfect little house and warm, crystal-clear water

You were wearing a light flowy dress, and Bucky, finally free from those annoying suits, chose trousers with a white tank top and shirt on top of it. 

You two were sitting under the sunset on a blanket with food and a bottle of wine, while your daughter was playing near the water with sand. It was such an amazing evening; just everything was perfect, and as you were watching your smiling husband, you felt that you had fallen in love once again.

"You keep staring at me, doll, You ‘kay?" He finally turned his face to you, and you couldn't hold your wide smile, which he immediately returned.

"I’m okay. It’s just… everything is perfect here—the beach, the house, you two here." You covered your eyes with your hand because of the setting sun. "You know, you’ve been here for a couple of hours, but you look much better. Your skin is glowing, you’re happy, and, god, that hair bun looks really hot." Bucky’s smile grew wilder because of your words.

He grabbed you in bridal style and set you across his lap, wrapping his hands around your waist. You slightly screamed, not being ready for such movements, but then happily melted into your husband's touch.

"So you think that I look hot?" A cheesy grin crossed his face, and you playfully rolled your eyes.

"Do you think I would’ve married you if I thought otherwise, James?" You arched an eyebrow at him. Your hands found the perfect place under Bucky’s blue shirt by themselves. God, it's been too long since you spent good time together alone.

"What do you think about the idea that when we get home, we send our daughter to visit her amazing grandparents, so we could be completely alone for a couple of days?" He said it as if he was reading your mind, so you just silently nodded. "Doll, you’re too beautiful for this damn world; I can’t even understand how I was able to be far away from you for that long. I missed you so much, baby." Bucky’s hands slipped lower on your hips, while his lips were leaving sweet kisses on the side of your neck.

"Not here, Buck; we’re not alone, remember?" You nodded back at your daughter, who was honestly more interested in building sandcastles.

"Of course. Just wanted to say that I’m so sorry for my absence. I got so involved in work that I didn’t even notice that you too were hurt. I’ve never wanted to do that. I’m sorry. And I love you. So fucking much." Bucky connected your foreheads and put his right hand on your cheek.

"Don’t be sorry. I know that you want better for us and that you want to do everything right. It’s okay to make mistakes sometimes. You know, you are such a great dad because your daughter’s tears made you leave everything and spend time with us. And I’m forever thankful for this." You smiled, holding his stubbled face in your hands. "I love you, James."

You two connected with a kiss. It wasn’t too rough or desperate. It was just pure love and adoration for one another. Bucky was slowly moving his lips, feeling the need for your taste, your smell, and your touch. Your little bubble didn’t last too long, though, not after your daughter finally wanted your attention.

"Mommy! Daddy!" You pulled away from the kiss, looking back at your daughter, who was now all in the sand. "Do you want to help me build a castle?"

You looked at Bucky, who had the same smile on his face.

"Of course, angel. What do you need from us?"

Been thinking on how Maggie would technically still be a brand new member of the Simpson family if the timeline wasn't however many seasons long. Don't know what to do with those thoughts but I have been having them.

I’m so glad you brought this up because it happens to be something I think about continuously. I need everybody to embrace my theory of The Simpsons where the family having an unexpected brand-new member is fundamental to all of the characters as we’re currently (constantly) perceiving them:

Marge’s difficulties with her, up to this point, uneventful marriage (tempted to have an affair a few episodes in!) are the result of all her hormones still resettling combined with the stress of the pregnancy itself where Homer struggled to come to terms with the fact that he had to go back to his old job, and wasn’t very emotionally supportive as a result. As her older two children grow up, she’s gaining a sense of her identity outside of motherhood, while the new baby is simultaneously tying her more closely to the heart of her home than ever. She’s both more rooted and more unsettled than she’s ever been before and that conflict is reflected in her episodes.

In the episode “Lisa the Simpson” we’re told that Bart was a good student when he was in Lisa’s year, before his grades took a rapid dive from which they never recovered. The episode attributes this to a “Simpson gene” which makes all the male members of the Simpson family lose their intelligence at the age of eight. I have not lost my intelligence and think it’s very obvious that Bart is still trying to recover from all the aforementioned sources of stress that would have occurred right around that exact point in time. He faced some upheaval shortly before we met him and the Bart we know now is still trying to get his head above water.

Lisa tends to feel neglected and overlooked, identifies herself with her intelligence to the point where she has an identity crisis any time she’s not the smartest person in the room, and is constantly embarking on socially disruptive moral crusades. All of the above are clearly the actions of a child who was the baby of the family for most of her life and is now actively engaged in determining her value beyond that designation.

And finally, Homer’s contribution to his family up to this point has been completely based on his role as the provider, having spent the better part of the past decade since he and his high school sweetheart had that accidental pregnancy paying off the family’s debts and looking forward to the time when he had definitively done right by them and could transition to a lower-paying job without worry. Instead, the presence of yet another unexpected baby and his transition to the role of safety inspector have forced him to an awareness of the fact that his responsibility is ongoing, that his other two children—at ages eight and ten—aren’t babies anymore, that it’s no longer going to be enough to clock in every day to provide for them and then clock out and nurse a well-earned beer, that they now need him in a way they didn’t before and that leaving all the parenting to Marge is no longer going to be enough. I think that this reflects a reality of life for many working parents whose primary duty hasn’t been at home, until suddenly their home starts to demand them. That’s why The Simpsons doesn’t take place in 1989 or 2024 or any year in between, it takes place in the year that Homer Simpson becomes a father.

OUT OF TIME

Flicking through the apps on his shiny new phone - Joe grinned in delight at his new purchase. It was 2007 and he was one of the first people in his circle of friends to own an iphone.

His wife Linda had bought it for him. They'd just got married, were deeply in love and were trying for a baby. In fact she was ovulating today and he had a good feeling that perhaps today could be the day. He was heading home shortly to make love to her, once he'd finished his work up in the office.

Joe was self employed - so he was in his own private office and his employees had all left already. His business was modest - but with good prospects for the future. Right now though - he was completely alone and with just a few things to tidy up.

Suddenly Joe's phone vibrated and he saw a picture message had come through from an unknown number. Intrigued he opened it up. Who could this be?

Joe's mouth dropped open as he saw a picture of an incredibly gorgeous looking twenty something girl in sexy lingerie. The resolution of the image was incredible, far sharper and more defined than his own photos so far. She appeared to be holding a phone like his - but so much more futuristic and advanced looking. In fact - everything about her oozed a futuristic sexuality... girls in 2007 just didn't look like this.

The phone began to ring and Joe answered it hesitantly.

"Hi Daddy, did you get my picture?"

"Errrrr who is this? I think there's a mistake."

"No Daddy there's no mistake, my name is Krystal and I'm your step-daughter."

"Errrrr I don't have a step-daughter," he said - feeling confused.

"Not yet you don't - but years from now once you dump that loser bitch Linda you will. I'm calling you from the future Daddy."

Joe laughed, "So this is a prank call. Who put you up to this?"

"You had to settle for Linda until you made it big. Soon your business will become a success... you'll become rich and powerful and then you'll meet my Mom Shelly and me. My Mom and her big tits will own you. She gets a job as your slutty secretary and you begin banging her brains out daily. She transforms you into an Alpha male and you ditch that fat cow Linda to marry her."

"Stop it... this isn't funny," snarled Joe down the phone - though to his horror his cock was suddenly and unexpectedly stiffening.

"You start working out, you get a little cosmetic work done... you even get a cock enlargement. Soon you're a powerful dominant bastard who gets everything he wants."

Joe groaned suddenly at the thought of being a stud with a big cock - it sounded nice. His average five inch cock got even harder. He imagined what it would feel like to have eight or nine inches down there.

"And with your slut eighteen year old step daughter, you soon have the tightest pussy you could imagine for that big new cock to fill. That's right Daddy - you get bored of my Mom and start fucking me. You give me everything I want and spoil me rotten. It's wonderful..."

Krystal's voice was breathy and with a edge of pleasure to it. It sounded like she was touching herself.

"There's only one fly in the ointment..."

Krystal's voice changed - became petulant.

"Before you dump Linda, you get that fat loser pregnant and she has a daughter. Your prim and proper daughter Megan. For some reason you love her unconditionally and she gets in my way of totally controlling and corrupting you. That's why I'm calling Daddy."

Krystal's voice became seductive and slutty again.

"Right now that fucking loser is swimming around in your balls as a tiny sperm. See tonight is the night Megan is conceived and I want to ruin everything. I want you to jerk that dick for me and pump all your sperm out. I want you to flush that little loser down the toilet and leave your balls drained and empty so Linda can't conceieve tonight."

"You're insane - this isn't real. You aren't from the future. That isn't possible."

Joe felt his phone *ding* as more pictures arrived. With Krystal on speaker phone he opened them up to see topless nudes of the perfect young bitch and a video of her masturbating her tight shaven pussy with a glass dildo.

"It doesn't matter if it's real or not Daddy... you're still gonna jerk off. Look how fucking hot I am? Just imagine how good my pussy would feel gripping your cock... imagine sliding it in and out of me."

Krystal began to moan down the phone, her hot pants and moans making his cock even harder.

"Grab your cock Daddy. Pump for me."

Driven horny with lust, Joe unzipped his fly and grabbed his dick. He shuddered in pleasure. He'd never had phone sex before and this was so hot and naughty.

"Yessssss... play along with the fantasy Daddy. You need to cum for me Daddy... its going to feel so fucking good to cum again and again. I want your balls pumped empty of every last sperm. Your cum belongs to me now Daddy - Linda gets nothing."

Joe couldn't believe how turned on he was. He began to follow Krystal's instructions, more pictures and videos of her playing with herself arriving to his phone for him to stroke to.

"That's it Daddy... harder... faster.... stroke that cock and give me the biggest load you can."

"Ugggghhh I should stop," groaned Joe as he pumped - his eyes glued to a video of Krystal fingering her tight cunt - "I'm supposed to go home and make love to Linda."

"No Daddy... you need to keep going. You need to cum... you need to make me happy. Once you cum Megan will be no more. I'll be your little bitch - the centre of your world. It will all be MINE Daddy. Now do it for me... cum for Krystal and betray the daughter you will never even meet."

With a moan Joe erupted. His balls convulsed as thick loads of fertile white cum erupted from the tip. His dick throbbed and throbbed - more cum oozing out as he heard Krystal's triumphant laughing.

"YES DADDY... OH YES!"

Squeezing the last of the cum out of his cock, Joe felt a flash of guilt. He had been saving that for Linda - but now he had wasted his load.

"I can always get her pregnant another night," he mused. Looking down he saw Krystal had hung up and vanished - but her pics and videos remained.

"Or I could keep jerking off to this slut... fuck she's hot. It would be kind of hot if she really was my future twisted step-daughter."

Cleaning himself up, Joe decided to finish his final task which was to read the applications for the secretary position. He would do that then head home and try to avoid having sex with Linda.

Opening the folder he gasped as he read the first application and his eyes widened in fear.

The first applicants name was Shelly and it said here she had a teenage daughter... a daughter named Krystal...

THE END