jennay

[jennay]

Ur an amazing writer

Oh my god. This is so sweet. Thank you for your kindness! 🖤🖤

[jennay]

❤️

joakim karlsson. these men dont do it like you do <//3

[jennay]

@a-villain-vying-for-attention the banner you made made it absolutely perfect. ❤️

Masterlist

Word Count:2270

Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary/request: Noah, the tattoo artist, works across the street from the flower shop where a certain girl can’t seem to stop stealing glances his way.

AN: Should there be a part two? Showing their first date?

Riley lets out a sigh, watching as your gaze drifts once again to the tattoo shop across the street, where one of the men stands outside, cigarette in hand. She’s tired of seeing you doubt yourself, constantly insisting that he doesn’t notice you. But Riley knows better. She’s seen the way he lingers when he comes to buy flowers, how he pretends to browse just for an excuse to stay a little longer. She could swear he was flirting at one point, but you were too oblivious to see it.

"You could ask him out, you know?" she says, matter-of-fact. "It’s really not that big of a deal. If he says no, at least you tried."

"I don't know what you're talking about." You drift to the other side of your grandma's flower shop, reaching for the watering can as you eye the roses—drooping slightly, in need of care. "Besides, he's not single. There's no way in hell. And, well… I'm me." You set the watering can down with a soft clink, brushing off the lingering doubt in your voice.

Your hands find an empty pot, then loose soil. You meant to plant these hyacinth bulbs over a week ago, but paperwork had kept you occupied—your grandma’s way of preparing you to take over when she retires.

"What does that even mean?" Riley walks over, sliding onto the counter beside you and your project. She offers you a pair of gloves, but you're already pressing your fingers into the earthy soil.

You keep shifting the soil around, a little too forcefully. "I'm probably not his type. Girls like me don’t get guys like that. Have you seen Noah?"

Riley’s brows pull together, her nose wrinkling in disbelief. "Girls like you? You mean beautiful, intelligent, and hilarious girls? Please—he’d be lucky!" She rolls her eyes, then tilts her head toward your project. "Do you need a break? That poor plant looks like it’s about to suffocate."

With a sigh, you slide the pot toward her. "Yeah."

As you move to the sink, washing the dirt from your hands, you can’t shake the feeling that Riley is just saying all this to lift you up to be a good friend. But believing her? That’s a different story.

When you reach the door, you turn back to her. "I’m gonna run to the pizza place. Do you want anything?"

Riley shakes her head, shooing you off with a flick of her wrist. "I'm good. Stay and eat there. Take a break… and don’t even think about coming back until your hour’s up, grumpy."

As you step outside, your timing is almost too perfect, Noah is just leaving the tattoo shop. He catches sight of you, and his smile is effortless, easy. Suddenly, your stomach isn’t sure whether to twist into knots or flutter like a hundred restless wings. You manage a shy, slightly awkward wave, and he waves back but your gaze is already fixed straight ahead, missing the moment entirely.

Lucky for you, the city's best pizza parlor is just down the street, and with the warm breeze and clear sky, the walk feels like a little gift. You hadn’t even realized how hungry you were until you stepped inside.

"Hi, dear!" Mr. Parker’s voice is bright and welcoming, just like always. He remembers you by how you helped him pick the perfect flowers for his wife, how patient you were. Now, he stops by the shop often, even taking lessons from you so he can impress her with his newfound gardening skills.

Your smile widens as you scan the glass case, each pizza looking more tempting than the last. "These look incredible!"

Mr. Parker chuckles, waving a hand. "Ahh, you're too kind. I recommend the new chicken barbecue—mozzarella, fresh basil, straight from the garden. A masterpiece, if I do say so myself."

"Well, I guess I have no choice but to try it." You hand him your debit card, but he slides it right back across the counter.

"On the house today," he says with a wink.

You thank him warmly, then take your plated pizza to the cozy corner table, pulling out your phone. If you had to be away from the shop for an hour, you might as well make it count.

The bells above the door chime as someone steps inside, but your attention is locked on your screen. Then, the first bite of pizza—pure magic. Smoky, sweet, creamy, and fresh all at once. Your eyes flutter closed, a satisfied smile easing onto your lips.

"What kind did you get?"

That voice—you’d recognize it anywhere.

Noah.

You crack one eye open, setting your pizza down before quickly grabbing a napkin. "Chicken barbecue."

Noah raises a brow as he settles into the chair across from you, sliding his plate onto the table. "Bold choice. I went with plain ol’ pepperoni classic, dependable."

Your gaze flickers to his hands, a fleeting curiosity about the rings he wears. Your stomach twists when you spot the one on his left ring finger, and internally, you scold yourself. This is exactly why you ignored Riley. Why entertain fantasies about someone who’s clearly unavailable?

"My grandma loved those flowers you recommended," he says, and his boyish grin is charming, effortless—catches you off guard. It’s annoyingly contagious.

"That’s good," you reply, trying to sound casual, unaffected. "You'll have to stop by this week. We’ve got some specials."

You cringe inwardly. You weren’t trying to sell him flowers, you were just grasping for something to say. You two weren’t exactly close. Sure, he’d come into the shop a few times, and one of his coworkers had given you a tattoo a while back, but outside of that, your interactions had mostly been polite smiles and brief waves.

Yet, here he was, sitting across from you, looking entirely too comfortable for someone who was supposedly just another passing acquaintance.

Noah chuckles, shaking his head. "Well, you don’t have to tell me twice. I’ll be there."

Whoever married him was lucky.

Noah didn’t just exist in a room…he filled it. He had this way of making you feel like you were the only person that mattered in a conversation, even if you knew that was just… him.

You force a smile, hoping it hides the whirlwind in your chest. "Well, I’ll look forward to it."

Your heart immediately sinks. Why did you say that? Why did it sound like—like something more?

You push the thought away as quickly as it comes, standing abruptly. "I should get going. God only knows what Riley is up to."

Noah leans back in his chair, arms casually draped over the sides. "Right, wouldn’t want her starting any revolutions while you’re gone."

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head, but the nerves still tangle in your stomach. "It was nice seeing you."

"Yeah, you too." He gives you an easy smile—so damn easy, like none of this is affecting him the way it’s affecting you. "I’ll see you around."

"Bye."

You make a beeline for the trash, tossing your plate away like it betrayed you somehow, then slip out the door before your mouth can betray you next. The walk back to the flower shop is brisk, your hands stuffed into your pockets as if that’ll somehow keep your thoughts in check.

When you push through the shop doors, Riley barely glances up from her book. She’s lounging behind the counter, perfectly content.

"He’s married."

You throw your hands up, frustration spilling over.

Riley slowly marks her place in the book, setting it down with an exaggerated sigh. "Oh?"

"Yes!" You drag a hand down your face, pacing as your thoughts race. "Left ring finger. How did I not notice that before?"

Riley hums thoughtfully, tapping her fingers against the counter. "That is… interesting."

You freeze, narrowing your eyes. "Interesting? What do you mean, 'interesting'?"

She shrugs, entirely too casual. "Did you actually see a wedding band?"

You pause. Think.

No. You saw a ring—yes—but was it actually a wedding band? Or had your brain just filled in the worst-case scenario because that was easier?

Riley smirks, knowing exactly where your thoughts are spiraling. "Looks like someone has some investigating to do."

You groan, dropping your head onto the counter. "Riley."

"You’re the one who said it was 'too good to be true,'" she teases. "Maybe it's just… good."

The day drags on, and despite your best efforts to stay focused on customers, you can’t shake the lingering interaction with Noah. You sulk quietly in the corner, tending to the hydrangeas that have decided to be overly dramatic this season. No matter how much water, sunlight, or whispered encouragement you give them, they insist on wilting in protest.

The bell jingles as the front door swings open, but you don’t bother looking up. Riley has it handled. All you want is for the day to end so you can go home, reset, and forget the ridiculous butterflies Noah somehow set loose in your stomach.

A sudden tap on your shoulder yanks you from your pity party. You whip around, startled, only to meet Noah’s piercing gaze and ridiculously charming smile.

"I didn’t mean to startle you," he says, hands slipping into his pockets, looking entirely too comfortable standing there in your shop.

Oh. Shit.

As if today couldn’t get any worse, here he is to buy flowers. For his wife.

Because of course he is.

Because of course you had spent your morning overthinking every interaction with him, only for reality to come and hit you like a freight train.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you manage to keep your voice steady. "That’s okay, I was just trying to figure out why these hydrangeas keep throwing a tantrum." You lift one up, frowning at its drooping petals.

Noah’s smile lingers as he watches you, eyes scanning the flowers, but it’s different now. Not flirtatious, just... curious. Like he finds you genuinely fascinating.

"So," he muses, tilting his head, "what’s your favorite flower? What would you recommend for a fun woman—something that says, unique, passionate, and beautiful?"

Oh, this sucked.

Your fingers twitch with the urge to shove him toward Riley, let her handle this mess, but she’s deep in conversation with an elderly couple. You’re on your own.

"Well," you say, forcing a breath, "these aren’t supposed to grow here, but I figured out how to keep them alive." You guide him toward the back of the shop, toward your personal favorites.

His gaze flicks over the delicate blooms, eyes widening in admiration. "Wow. What are these? They look like tiny hearts."

A soft laugh escapes you despite yourself. "It’s kinda emo—they’re called Bleeding Hearts."

Noah grins, running his fingers lightly over the petals. "That’s metal."

You snort. "Right?"

"I’ll take them." He grabs a small bouquet without hesitation.

"Good choice." You nod, leading him back to the front.

When you ring up his purchase, he doesn’t hesitate to hand you the cash. As you slide the receipt toward him, he turns to leave but stops just before reaching the door.

He looks back at you, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

"Something wrong?" you ask, laughing lightly, trying to shake the tension creeping into the air. "I’ll take them back—a full refund, no questions asked."

Noah chuckles as he strolls to the counter, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Nothing's wrong," he says, casually placing the flowers in front of you.

You blink at him. Then at the flowers. Then back at him. Your eyebrow shoots up. "Are you feeling okay?"

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair as if that’ll somehow make this moment less awkward. "They’re for you," he blurts out. "I—uh—I didn’t know how to ask you out, and in my head, this was going way smoother." He groans, shaking his head. "Did I blow it?"

Your lips part in surprise, but then your gaze instinctively drops to his hand, the one adorned with rings, particularly the one on his left ring finger.

"Aren’t you married?" you ask, pointing accusingly at the evidence.

Noah softly laughs shaking his head. "No! I just like rings." He lifts his hand, wiggling his fingers like they’re part of some magic trick. "Purely decorative, I swear."

You squint at him, suspicious. "So you like messing with people?"

"Absolutely not." He pauses, then grins. "Okay, maybe a little. But only when the reactions are entertaining."

You roll your eyes, but you’re already smiling. Bringing the flowers to your face, you inhale their soft, sweet scent, trying to hide the way your cheeks warm under his gaze.

"There’s definitely a spark," you finally admit, peeking at him over the petals. "And yes, I’ll go on a date with you."

Noah visibly relaxes, a huge grin spreading across his face. "Seriously?"

You grab a scrap of paper, quickly scribbling down your number and sliding it across the counter. "I’m off at five."

His fingers brush yours as he takes the paper, sending an unexpected jolt through you.

"I’ll see you soon," he says, his voice carrying an edge of nervous excitement.

He steps toward the door, hesitates for just a moment, then glances back, offering you a final wave before disappearing outside.

You stare at the spot where he stood, your smile stretching so wide it almost hurts.

"I don’t mean to brag," Riley drawls, sidling up beside you, "but I told you so."

[jennay]

Masterlist

Word Count:2270

Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary/request: Noah, the tattoo artist, works across the street from the flower shop where a certain girl can’t seem to stop stealing glances his way.

AN: Should there be a part two? Showing their first date?

Riley lets out a sigh, watching as your gaze drifts once again to the tattoo shop across the street, where one of the men stands outside, cigarette in hand. She’s tired of seeing you doubt yourself, constantly insisting that he doesn’t notice you. But Riley knows better. She’s seen the way he lingers when he comes to buy flowers, how he pretends to browse just for an excuse to stay a little longer. She could swear he was flirting at one point, but you were too oblivious to see it.

"You could ask him out, you know?" she says, matter-of-fact. "It’s really not that big of a deal. If he says no, at least you tried."

"I don't know what you're talking about." You drift to the other side of your grandma's flower shop, reaching for the watering can as you eye the roses—drooping slightly, in need of care. "Besides, he's not single. There's no way in hell. And, well… I'm me." You set the watering can down with a soft clink, brushing off the lingering doubt in your voice.

Your hands find an empty pot, then loose soil. You meant to plant these hyacinth bulbs over a week ago, but paperwork had kept you occupied—your grandma’s way of preparing you to take over when she retires.

"What does that even mean?" Riley walks over, sliding onto the counter beside you and your project. She offers you a pair of gloves, but you're already pressing your fingers into the earthy soil.

You keep shifting the soil around, a little too forcefully. "I'm probably not his type. Girls like me don’t get guys like that. Have you seen Noah?"

Riley’s brows pull together, her nose wrinkling in disbelief. "Girls like you? You mean beautiful, intelligent, and hilarious girls? Please—he’d be lucky!" She rolls her eyes, then tilts her head toward your project. "Do you need a break? That poor plant looks like it’s about to suffocate."

With a sigh, you slide the pot toward her. "Yeah."

As you move to the sink, washing the dirt from your hands, you can’t shake the feeling that Riley is just saying all this to lift you up to be a good friend. But believing her? That’s a different story.

When you reach the door, you turn back to her. "I’m gonna run to the pizza place. Do you want anything?"

Riley shakes her head, shooing you off with a flick of her wrist. "I'm good. Stay and eat there. Take a break… and don’t even think about coming back until your hour’s up, grumpy."

As you step outside, your timing is almost too perfect, Noah is just leaving the tattoo shop. He catches sight of you, and his smile is effortless, easy. Suddenly, your stomach isn’t sure whether to twist into knots or flutter like a hundred restless wings. You manage a shy, slightly awkward wave, and he waves back but your gaze is already fixed straight ahead, missing the moment entirely.

Lucky for you, the city's best pizza parlor is just down the street, and with the warm breeze and clear sky, the walk feels like a little gift. You hadn’t even realized how hungry you were until you stepped inside.

"Hi, dear!" Mr. Parker’s voice is bright and welcoming, just like always. He remembers you by how you helped him pick the perfect flowers for his wife, how patient you were. Now, he stops by the shop often, even taking lessons from you so he can impress her with his newfound gardening skills.

Your smile widens as you scan the glass case, each pizza looking more tempting than the last. "These look incredible!"

Mr. Parker chuckles, waving a hand. "Ahh, you're too kind. I recommend the new chicken barbecue—mozzarella, fresh basil, straight from the garden. A masterpiece, if I do say so myself."

"Well, I guess I have no choice but to try it." You hand him your debit card, but he slides it right back across the counter.

"On the house today," he says with a wink.

You thank him warmly, then take your plated pizza to the cozy corner table, pulling out your phone. If you had to be away from the shop for an hour, you might as well make it count.

The bells above the door chime as someone steps inside, but your attention is locked on your screen. Then, the first bite of pizza—pure magic. Smoky, sweet, creamy, and fresh all at once. Your eyes flutter closed, a satisfied smile easing onto your lips.

"What kind did you get?"

That voice—you’d recognize it anywhere.

Noah.

You crack one eye open, setting your pizza down before quickly grabbing a napkin. "Chicken barbecue."

Noah raises a brow as he settles into the chair across from you, sliding his plate onto the table. "Bold choice. I went with plain ol’ pepperoni classic, dependable."

Your gaze flickers to his hands, a fleeting curiosity about the rings he wears. Your stomach twists when you spot the one on his left ring finger, and internally, you scold yourself. This is exactly why you ignored Riley. Why entertain fantasies about someone who’s clearly unavailable?

"My grandma loved those flowers you recommended," he says, and his boyish grin is charming, effortless—catches you off guard. It’s annoyingly contagious.

"That’s good," you reply, trying to sound casual, unaffected. "You'll have to stop by this week. We’ve got some specials."

You cringe inwardly. You weren’t trying to sell him flowers, you were just grasping for something to say. You two weren’t exactly close. Sure, he’d come into the shop a few times, and one of his coworkers had given you a tattoo a while back, but outside of that, your interactions had mostly been polite smiles and brief waves.

Yet, here he was, sitting across from you, looking entirely too comfortable for someone who was supposedly just another passing acquaintance.

Noah chuckles, shaking his head. "Well, you don’t have to tell me twice. I’ll be there."

Whoever married him was lucky.

Noah didn’t just exist in a room…he filled it. He had this way of making you feel like you were the only person that mattered in a conversation, even if you knew that was just… him.

You force a smile, hoping it hides the whirlwind in your chest. "Well, I’ll look forward to it."

Your heart immediately sinks. Why did you say that? Why did it sound like—like something more?

You push the thought away as quickly as it comes, standing abruptly. "I should get going. God only knows what Riley is up to."

Noah leans back in his chair, arms casually draped over the sides. "Right, wouldn’t want her starting any revolutions while you’re gone."

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head, but the nerves still tangle in your stomach. "It was nice seeing you."

"Yeah, you too." He gives you an easy smile—so damn easy, like none of this is affecting him the way it’s affecting you. "I’ll see you around."

"Bye."

You make a beeline for the trash, tossing your plate away like it betrayed you somehow, then slip out the door before your mouth can betray you next. The walk back to the flower shop is brisk, your hands stuffed into your pockets as if that’ll somehow keep your thoughts in check.

When you push through the shop doors, Riley barely glances up from her book. She’s lounging behind the counter, perfectly content.

"He’s married."

You throw your hands up, frustration spilling over.

Riley slowly marks her place in the book, setting it down with an exaggerated sigh. "Oh?"

"Yes!" You drag a hand down your face, pacing as your thoughts race. "Left ring finger. How did I not notice that before?"

Riley hums thoughtfully, tapping her fingers against the counter. "That is… interesting."

You freeze, narrowing your eyes. "Interesting? What do you mean, 'interesting'?"

She shrugs, entirely too casual. "Did you actually see a wedding band?"

You pause. Think.

No. You saw a ring—yes—but was it actually a wedding band? Or had your brain just filled in the worst-case scenario because that was easier?

Riley smirks, knowing exactly where your thoughts are spiraling. "Looks like someone has some investigating to do."

You groan, dropping your head onto the counter. "Riley."

"You’re the one who said it was 'too good to be true,'" she teases. "Maybe it's just… good."

The day drags on, and despite your best efforts to stay focused on customers, you can’t shake the lingering interaction with Noah. You sulk quietly in the corner, tending to the hydrangeas that have decided to be overly dramatic this season. No matter how much water, sunlight, or whispered encouragement you give them, they insist on wilting in protest.

The bell jingles as the front door swings open, but you don’t bother looking up. Riley has it handled. All you want is for the day to end so you can go home, reset, and forget the ridiculous butterflies Noah somehow set loose in your stomach.

A sudden tap on your shoulder yanks you from your pity party. You whip around, startled, only to meet Noah’s piercing gaze and ridiculously charming smile.

"I didn’t mean to startle you," he says, hands slipping into his pockets, looking entirely too comfortable standing there in your shop.

Oh. Shit.

As if today couldn’t get any worse, here he is to buy flowers. For his wife.

Because of course he is.

Because of course you had spent your morning overthinking every interaction with him, only for reality to come and hit you like a freight train.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you manage to keep your voice steady. "That’s okay, I was just trying to figure out why these hydrangeas keep throwing a tantrum." You lift one up, frowning at its drooping petals.

Noah’s smile lingers as he watches you, eyes scanning the flowers, but it’s different now. Not flirtatious, just... curious. Like he finds you genuinely fascinating.

"So," he muses, tilting his head, "what’s your favorite flower? What would you recommend for a fun woman—something that says, unique, passionate, and beautiful?"

Oh, this sucked.

Your fingers twitch with the urge to shove him toward Riley, let her handle this mess, but she’s deep in conversation with an elderly couple. You’re on your own.

"Well," you say, forcing a breath, "these aren’t supposed to grow here, but I figured out how to keep them alive." You guide him toward the back of the shop, toward your personal favorites.

His gaze flicks over the delicate blooms, eyes widening in admiration. "Wow. What are these? They look like tiny hearts."

A soft laugh escapes you despite yourself. "It’s kinda emo—they’re called Bleeding Hearts."

Noah grins, running his fingers lightly over the petals. "That’s metal."

You snort. "Right?"

"I’ll take them." He grabs a small bouquet without hesitation.

"Good choice." You nod, leading him back to the front.

When you ring up his purchase, he doesn’t hesitate to hand you the cash. As you slide the receipt toward him, he turns to leave but stops just before reaching the door.

He looks back at you, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

"Something wrong?" you ask, laughing lightly, trying to shake the tension creeping into the air. "I’ll take them back—a full refund, no questions asked."

Noah chuckles as he strolls to the counter, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Nothing's wrong," he says, casually placing the flowers in front of you.

You blink at him. Then at the flowers. Then back at him. Your eyebrow shoots up. "Are you feeling okay?"

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair as if that’ll somehow make this moment less awkward. "They’re for you," he blurts out. "I—uh—I didn’t know how to ask you out, and in my head, this was going way smoother." He groans, shaking his head. "Did I blow it?"

Your lips part in surprise, but then your gaze instinctively drops to his hand, the one adorned with rings, particularly the one on his left ring finger.

"Aren’t you married?" you ask, pointing accusingly at the evidence.

Noah softly laughs shaking his head. "No! I just like rings." He lifts his hand, wiggling his fingers like they’re part of some magic trick. "Purely decorative, I swear."

You squint at him, suspicious. "So you like messing with people?"

"Absolutely not." He pauses, then grins. "Okay, maybe a little. But only when the reactions are entertaining."

You roll your eyes, but you’re already smiling. Bringing the flowers to your face, you inhale their soft, sweet scent, trying to hide the way your cheeks warm under his gaze.

"There’s definitely a spark," you finally admit, peeking at him over the petals. "And yes, I’ll go on a date with you."

Noah visibly relaxes, a huge grin spreading across his face. "Seriously?"

You grab a scrap of paper, quickly scribbling down your number and sliding it across the counter. "I’m off at five."

His fingers brush yours as he takes the paper, sending an unexpected jolt through you.

"I’ll see you soon," he says, his voice carrying an edge of nervous excitement.

He steps toward the door, hesitates for just a moment, then glances back, offering you a final wave before disappearing outside.

You stare at the spot where he stood, your smile stretching so wide it almost hurts.

"I don’t mean to brag," Riley drawls, sidling up beside you, "but I told you so."

[jennay]

😦😦😦

HEAR ME OUT

[jennay]

@a-villain-vying-for-attention stooooop I just melted 🥹🥹🥹

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Word Count: 1430

No Warnings just fluff.

Master List

Gentle brown eyes tracked you across the crowded bar, their gaze unwavering. Noah looked like he was trying to win a staring contest you didn’t even know you were part of. He feared that if he so much as blinked, you'd bolt for the exit like a cat spotting a vacuum. You were, after all, his favorite thing to look at—even more so than the nacho platter he’d passed on his way in. It was honestly a little surprising you’d shown up at all. This wasn’t your kind of scene, and it certainly wasn’t your kind of people. You stuck out like a penguin at a beach party, and you knew it.

You could feel the stares from the surrounding crowd—the silent, calculating judgment from women who couldn’t quite figure out why Noah kept you around. "Character building," he’d joked once when someone asked. He loved to tease you about the women with their perfectly blown-out hair, designer clothes, and wallets that probably weighed more than their small dogs. Somehow, those same women still glared at you like you’d stolen the last pair of shoes in their size. You always waved him off, rolling your eyes. “Trust me,” you’d say. “No one is envying me.”

But Noah never let you get away with self-deprecation. He took every opportunity to remind you how amazing he thought you were. It didn’t matter that your ears still bore faint scars from your gauging days or that your laugh had a wheeze at the end that made you sound like an offbeat accordion. To him, you were spectacular—not because of how you looked, but because you unapologetically owned every part of who you were.

From his spot at the bar, Noah watched you try your best to mingle with his friends, faking small talk like it was an Olympic sport you were determined to win. He couldn’t help but smile—he knew you’d rather be at home in your pajamas, eating snacks and roasting bad TV shows. That’s why, after a long sigh, he decided to rescue you. He pushed off his barstool, prepared to swoop in.

But before he could reach you, Joakim came out of nowhere like a scene-stealing sidekick. Noah froze as Joakim slung an arm over your shoulder and whisked you toward the other side of the room with all the casual confidence of someone herding a cat. Watching you disappear toward the dance floor, Noah smiled to himself, knowing you’d probably give Joakim a piece of your mind later.

“This is a terrible idea,” you muttered to Joakim, glaring down at your heels like they were plotting against you. “I can’t dance in these.”

Joakim just grinned, already grabbing your hand like a man on a mission. “You just have to move. No one’s gonna notice your questionable dance moves—except maybe Noah.” He jerked his head toward the bar, where Noah still stood watching like a hawk.

Joakim gave Noah a cheeky wave as if to say, “I’ve got this,” while you sighed dramatically. Noah finally relaxed, knowing you were in good hands—for now. He shook his head with a chuckle and turned back to his drink, trusting that Joakim’s chaos would keep you on your toes while he caught up with old friends.

"My feet hurt!" you yell, limping toward Jolly with all the grace of a baby giraffe. "Why did I think heels were a good idea? This is why I’m not fashionable."

Jolly pauses mid-dance, raising an eyebrow. "You think it’s the heels? I think it’s the fact that your ‘dancing’ looks like a chicken trying to fly."

"Wow, rude," you say, slipping off your shoes and handing them to him. "Here. If you’re gonna insult me, you might as well hold my heels and carry me to the bar like a gentleman."

Jolly laughs, shaking his head. "I’ll carry the shoes, not you. I draw the line at piggybacks. Here, lean on me—just not too much. I need to preserve my dignity."

With an Oscar-worthy sigh, you drop onto a barstool as though the weight of the world has finally been lifted from your shoulders. "I’m ready to go," you announce like a martyr.

Jolly orders drinks, and you scan the room, zeroing in on Noah—or rather, attempting to. You couldn’t leave without him; after all, he’d sneakily insisted you ride with him, knowing full well it was his cunning way to keep you here longer.

"I'm glad you're here," you grumble to Jolly, raising your glass. "I don’t know a single soul here. Except for you. Unfortunately." You take a sip of your vodka cranberry, wincing. "Also, what is this music? Who plays slow-dancing songs at a birthday party? This DJ needs to be demoted to kids’ parties."

Jolly smirks, keeping his focus fixed ahead. "You’re just bitter no one’s asked you to dance," he teases.

You let out a laugh, pointing at him with your drink. "You danced with me, you hypocrite!"

Before you can say more, hands land gently on your shoulders, sending a chill down your spine. You look up, startled, to see Noah’s face inches from yours.

"Want to dance?" he asks smoothly.

Your shoulders slump. "Not really," you admit, blunt as ever.

"Too bad." He grins, pulling you up before you can protest. "You danced with Jolly; now it’s my turn."

You hastily set down your drink, nearly knocking it over as he tugs you onto the dance floor. "I don’t even have shoes on!" you gripe.

Noah glances down and, without a word, kicks off his own shoes, planting his bare feet on the floor. "There—now we’re both rebels. Come on, princess, the song’s almost over." He flashes his infuriatingly charming smile.

The dance floor is filled with couples holding each other close, swaying like they’re all rehearsing for a rom-com. You wrap your arms around Noah’s shoulders, still grumbling. "Shouldn’t you be dancing with someone who actually likes you? You’re pushing thirty, dude. Should I start taking applications for ‘Date Noah Before He Dies Alone?"

His hands tighten on your hips, pulling you closer. "You’re the worst!" he mutters with a laugh.

You grin. "Thanks. I learned from the best."

Noah’s laughter is warm and genuine, the kind that makes your chest feel lighter. He presses his forehead to yours, holding you close as the music wraps around you. Your eyes flutter shut, letting yourself melt into the moment.

"Thank you," he says softly, his voice carrying an unfamiliar tenderness. "For being here."

You tilt your head slightly, meeting his gaze. His smile is soft, almost shy, as he watches you with quiet intensity. "You know I’d do anything for you," you reply, smirking playfully.

He chuckles, his eyes flickering down for just a second before snapping back to yours. "Anything?" he repeats, his voice light.

"Anything," you confirm with a nod, expecting another teasing comment. But instead, Noah suddenly leans in, his lips brushing against yours in the most unexpected, fleeting kiss.

Your mind blanks for a split second. When he pulls back, you catch the slight widening of his eyes, as though even he didn’t plan to do it.

"I—" he stammers, his crooked smile faltering as he rubs the back of his neck. "Sorry, that just... happened."

You blink, your surprise slowly giving way to a mischievous grin. "What was that?"

"Impulse," he mutters with a sheepish laugh, his eyes flickering with uncertainty.

Shaking your head with a playful grin, you grab his shirt and pull him back down, pressing your lips to his again—this time with purpose. When you finally pull back, the dazed, boyish smile on his face makes your chest flutter.

"Guess I don’t mind your impulses," you tease, smirking as his arms tighten around your waist, holding you close.

Noah’s gaze shifts over your shoulder, and he spots Jolly approaching with your shoes in hand, looking mildly amused. A mischievous grin spreads across Noah’s face as he declares, "Get used to them, because I’m about to act on one again."

Before you can respond, he lets out an exaggerated, maniacal laugh—half joking, half triumphant—as he effortlessly scoops you up into his arms. "We’re leaving!" he announces dramatically, already making his way toward the entrance.

You burst into uncontrollable giggles, smacking his shoulder lightly. "Noah! Put me down!"

"Not a chance, princess," he shoots back, grinning ear to ear. "This is what you get for encouraging my bad behavior!"

Jolly shakes his head behind you, muttering something about "lucky shoes" as he follows, but you’re too busy laughing over Noah’s shoulder to care.

[jennay]

@xmads-omensx awww that’s so awesome! I had no idea how many first there were with this blog 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Word Count: 1430

No Warnings just fluff.

Master List

Gentle brown eyes tracked you across the crowded bar, their gaze unwavering. Noah looked like he was trying to win a staring contest you didn’t even know you were part of. He feared that if he so much as blinked, you'd bolt for the exit like a cat spotting a vacuum. You were, after all, his favorite thing to look at—even more so than the nacho platter he’d passed on his way in. It was honestly a little surprising you’d shown up at all. This wasn’t your kind of scene, and it certainly wasn’t your kind of people. You stuck out like a penguin at a beach party, and you knew it.

You could feel the stares from the surrounding crowd—the silent, calculating judgment from women who couldn’t quite figure out why Noah kept you around. "Character building," he’d joked once when someone asked. He loved to tease you about the women with their perfectly blown-out hair, designer clothes, and wallets that probably weighed more than their small dogs. Somehow, those same women still glared at you like you’d stolen the last pair of shoes in their size. You always waved him off, rolling your eyes. “Trust me,” you’d say. “No one is envying me.”

But Noah never let you get away with self-deprecation. He took every opportunity to remind you how amazing he thought you were. It didn’t matter that your ears still bore faint scars from your gauging days or that your laugh had a wheeze at the end that made you sound like an offbeat accordion. To him, you were spectacular—not because of how you looked, but because you unapologetically owned every part of who you were.

From his spot at the bar, Noah watched you try your best to mingle with his friends, faking small talk like it was an Olympic sport you were determined to win. He couldn’t help but smile—he knew you’d rather be at home in your pajamas, eating snacks and roasting bad TV shows. That’s why, after a long sigh, he decided to rescue you. He pushed off his barstool, prepared to swoop in.

But before he could reach you, Joakim came out of nowhere like a scene-stealing sidekick. Noah froze as Joakim slung an arm over your shoulder and whisked you toward the other side of the room with all the casual confidence of someone herding a cat. Watching you disappear toward the dance floor, Noah smiled to himself, knowing you’d probably give Joakim a piece of your mind later.

“This is a terrible idea,” you muttered to Joakim, glaring down at your heels like they were plotting against you. “I can’t dance in these.”

Joakim just grinned, already grabbing your hand like a man on a mission. “You just have to move. No one’s gonna notice your questionable dance moves—except maybe Noah.” He jerked his head toward the bar, where Noah still stood watching like a hawk.

Joakim gave Noah a cheeky wave as if to say, “I’ve got this,” while you sighed dramatically. Noah finally relaxed, knowing you were in good hands—for now. He shook his head with a chuckle and turned back to his drink, trusting that Joakim’s chaos would keep you on your toes while he caught up with old friends.

"My feet hurt!" you yell, limping toward Jolly with all the grace of a baby giraffe. "Why did I think heels were a good idea? This is why I’m not fashionable."

Jolly pauses mid-dance, raising an eyebrow. "You think it’s the heels? I think it’s the fact that your ‘dancing’ looks like a chicken trying to fly."

"Wow, rude," you say, slipping off your shoes and handing them to him. "Here. If you’re gonna insult me, you might as well hold my heels and carry me to the bar like a gentleman."

Jolly laughs, shaking his head. "I’ll carry the shoes, not you. I draw the line at piggybacks. Here, lean on me—just not too much. I need to preserve my dignity."

With an Oscar-worthy sigh, you drop onto a barstool as though the weight of the world has finally been lifted from your shoulders. "I’m ready to go," you announce like a martyr.

Jolly orders drinks, and you scan the room, zeroing in on Noah—or rather, attempting to. You couldn’t leave without him; after all, he’d sneakily insisted you ride with him, knowing full well it was his cunning way to keep you here longer.

"I'm glad you're here," you grumble to Jolly, raising your glass. "I don’t know a single soul here. Except for you. Unfortunately." You take a sip of your vodka cranberry, wincing. "Also, what is this music? Who plays slow-dancing songs at a birthday party? This DJ needs to be demoted to kids’ parties."

Jolly smirks, keeping his focus fixed ahead. "You’re just bitter no one’s asked you to dance," he teases.

You let out a laugh, pointing at him with your drink. "You danced with me, you hypocrite!"

Before you can say more, hands land gently on your shoulders, sending a chill down your spine. You look up, startled, to see Noah’s face inches from yours.

"Want to dance?" he asks smoothly.

Your shoulders slump. "Not really," you admit, blunt as ever.

"Too bad." He grins, pulling you up before you can protest. "You danced with Jolly; now it’s my turn."

You hastily set down your drink, nearly knocking it over as he tugs you onto the dance floor. "I don’t even have shoes on!" you gripe.

Noah glances down and, without a word, kicks off his own shoes, planting his bare feet on the floor. "There—now we’re both rebels. Come on, princess, the song’s almost over." He flashes his infuriatingly charming smile.

The dance floor is filled with couples holding each other close, swaying like they’re all rehearsing for a rom-com. You wrap your arms around Noah’s shoulders, still grumbling. "Shouldn’t you be dancing with someone who actually likes you? You’re pushing thirty, dude. Should I start taking applications for ‘Date Noah Before He Dies Alone?"

His hands tighten on your hips, pulling you closer. "You’re the worst!" he mutters with a laugh.

You grin. "Thanks. I learned from the best."

Noah’s laughter is warm and genuine, the kind that makes your chest feel lighter. He presses his forehead to yours, holding you close as the music wraps around you. Your eyes flutter shut, letting yourself melt into the moment.

"Thank you," he says softly, his voice carrying an unfamiliar tenderness. "For being here."

You tilt your head slightly, meeting his gaze. His smile is soft, almost shy, as he watches you with quiet intensity. "You know I’d do anything for you," you reply, smirking playfully.

He chuckles, his eyes flickering down for just a second before snapping back to yours. "Anything?" he repeats, his voice light.

"Anything," you confirm with a nod, expecting another teasing comment. But instead, Noah suddenly leans in, his lips brushing against yours in the most unexpected, fleeting kiss.

Your mind blanks for a split second. When he pulls back, you catch the slight widening of his eyes, as though even he didn’t plan to do it.

"I—" he stammers, his crooked smile faltering as he rubs the back of his neck. "Sorry, that just... happened."

You blink, your surprise slowly giving way to a mischievous grin. "What was that?"

"Impulse," he mutters with a sheepish laugh, his eyes flickering with uncertainty.

Shaking your head with a playful grin, you grab his shirt and pull him back down, pressing your lips to his again—this time with purpose. When you finally pull back, the dazed, boyish smile on his face makes your chest flutter.

"Guess I don’t mind your impulses," you tease, smirking as his arms tighten around your waist, holding you close.

Noah’s gaze shifts over your shoulder, and he spots Jolly approaching with your shoes in hand, looking mildly amused. A mischievous grin spreads across Noah’s face as he declares, "Get used to them, because I’m about to act on one again."

Before you can respond, he lets out an exaggerated, maniacal laugh—half joking, half triumphant—as he effortlessly scoops you up into his arms. "We’re leaving!" he announces dramatically, already making his way toward the entrance.

You burst into uncontrollable giggles, smacking his shoulder lightly. "Noah! Put me down!"

"Not a chance, princess," he shoots back, grinning ear to ear. "This is what you get for encouraging my bad behavior!"

Jolly shakes his head behind you, muttering something about "lucky shoes" as he follows, but you’re too busy laughing over Noah’s shoulder to care.

[jennay]

@lacy1986 I had to make my occasional appearance 😆😘

New Noah one shot almost ready to go just need to edit. It will be called Dance with Me. It’s fluff cause I love fluff.

I’m taking requests also! 🖤

[jennay]

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Word Count: 1430

No Warnings just fluff.

Master List

Gentle brown eyes tracked you across the crowded bar, their gaze unwavering. Noah looked like he was trying to win a staring contest you didn’t even know you were part of. He feared that if he so much as blinked, you'd bolt for the exit like a cat spotting a vacuum. You were, after all, his favorite thing to look at—even more so than the nacho platter he’d passed on his way in. It was honestly a little surprising you’d shown up at all. This wasn’t your kind of scene, and it certainly wasn’t your kind of people. You stuck out like a penguin at a beach party, and you knew it.

You could feel the stares from the surrounding crowd—the silent, calculating judgment from women who couldn’t quite figure out why Noah kept you around. "Character building," he’d joked once when someone asked. He loved to tease you about the women with their perfectly blown-out hair, designer clothes, and wallets that probably weighed more than their small dogs. Somehow, those same women still glared at you like you’d stolen the last pair of shoes in their size. You always waved him off, rolling your eyes. “Trust me,” you’d say. “No one is envying me.”

But Noah never let you get away with self-deprecation. He took every opportunity to remind you how amazing he thought you were. It didn’t matter that your ears still bore faint scars from your gauging days or that your laugh had a wheeze at the end that made you sound like an offbeat accordion. To him, you were spectacular—not because of how you looked, but because you unapologetically owned every part of who you were.

From his spot at the bar, Noah watched you try your best to mingle with his friends, faking small talk like it was an Olympic sport you were determined to win. He couldn’t help but smile—he knew you’d rather be at home in your pajamas, eating snacks and roasting bad TV shows. That’s why, after a long sigh, he decided to rescue you. He pushed off his barstool, prepared to swoop in.

But before he could reach you, Joakim came out of nowhere like a scene-stealing sidekick. Noah froze as Joakim slung an arm over your shoulder and whisked you toward the other side of the room with all the casual confidence of someone herding a cat. Watching you disappear toward the dance floor, Noah smiled to himself, knowing you’d probably give Joakim a piece of your mind later.

“This is a terrible idea,” you muttered to Joakim, glaring down at your heels like they were plotting against you. “I can’t dance in these.”

Joakim just grinned, already grabbing your hand like a man on a mission. “You just have to move. No one’s gonna notice your questionable dance moves—except maybe Noah.” He jerked his head toward the bar, where Noah still stood watching like a hawk.

Joakim gave Noah a cheeky wave as if to say, “I’ve got this,” while you sighed dramatically. Noah finally relaxed, knowing you were in good hands—for now. He shook his head with a chuckle and turned back to his drink, trusting that Joakim’s chaos would keep you on your toes while he caught up with old friends.

"My feet hurt!" you yell, limping toward Jolly with all the grace of a baby giraffe. "Why did I think heels were a good idea? This is why I’m not fashionable."

Jolly pauses mid-dance, raising an eyebrow. "You think it’s the heels? I think it’s the fact that your ‘dancing’ looks like a chicken trying to fly."

"Wow, rude," you say, slipping off your shoes and handing them to him. "Here. If you’re gonna insult me, you might as well hold my heels and carry me to the bar like a gentleman."

Jolly laughs, shaking his head. "I’ll carry the shoes, not you. I draw the line at piggybacks. Here, lean on me—just not too much. I need to preserve my dignity."

With an Oscar-worthy sigh, you drop onto a barstool as though the weight of the world has finally been lifted from your shoulders. "I’m ready to go," you announce like a martyr.

Jolly orders drinks, and you scan the room, zeroing in on Noah—or rather, attempting to. You couldn’t leave without him; after all, he’d sneakily insisted you ride with him, knowing full well it was his cunning way to keep you here longer.

"I'm glad you're here," you grumble to Jolly, raising your glass. "I don’t know a single soul here. Except for you. Unfortunately." You take a sip of your vodka cranberry, wincing. "Also, what is this music? Who plays slow-dancing songs at a birthday party? This DJ needs to be demoted to kids’ parties."

Jolly smirks, keeping his focus fixed ahead. "You’re just bitter no one’s asked you to dance," he teases.

You let out a laugh, pointing at him with your drink. "You danced with me, you hypocrite!"

Before you can say more, hands land gently on your shoulders, sending a chill down your spine. You look up, startled, to see Noah’s face inches from yours.

"Want to dance?" he asks smoothly.

Your shoulders slump. "Not really," you admit, blunt as ever.

"Too bad." He grins, pulling you up before you can protest. "You danced with Jolly; now it’s my turn."

You hastily set down your drink, nearly knocking it over as he tugs you onto the dance floor. "I don’t even have shoes on!" you gripe.

Noah glances down and, without a word, kicks off his own shoes, planting his bare feet on the floor. "There—now we’re both rebels. Come on, princess, the song’s almost over." He flashes his infuriatingly charming smile.

The dance floor is filled with couples holding each other close, swaying like they’re all rehearsing for a rom-com. You wrap your arms around Noah’s shoulders, still grumbling. "Shouldn’t you be dancing with someone who actually likes you? You’re pushing thirty, dude. Should I start taking applications for ‘Date Noah Before He Dies Alone?"

His hands tighten on your hips, pulling you closer. "You’re the worst!" he mutters with a laugh.

You grin. "Thanks. I learned from the best."

Noah’s laughter is warm and genuine, the kind that makes your chest feel lighter. He presses his forehead to yours, holding you close as the music wraps around you. Your eyes flutter shut, letting yourself melt into the moment.

"Thank you," he says softly, his voice carrying an unfamiliar tenderness. "For being here."

You tilt your head slightly, meeting his gaze. His smile is soft, almost shy, as he watches you with quiet intensity. "You know I’d do anything for you," you reply, smirking playfully.

He chuckles, his eyes flickering down for just a second before snapping back to yours. "Anything?" he repeats, his voice light.

"Anything," you confirm with a nod, expecting another teasing comment. But instead, Noah suddenly leans in, his lips brushing against yours in the most unexpected, fleeting kiss.

Your mind blanks for a split second. When he pulls back, you catch the slight widening of his eyes, as though even he didn’t plan to do it.

"I—" he stammers, his crooked smile faltering as he rubs the back of his neck. "Sorry, that just... happened."

You blink, your surprise slowly giving way to a mischievous grin. "What was that?"

"Impulse," he mutters with a sheepish laugh, his eyes flickering with uncertainty.

Shaking your head with a playful grin, you grab his shirt and pull him back down, pressing your lips to his again—this time with purpose. When you finally pull back, the dazed, boyish smile on his face makes your chest flutter.

"Guess I don’t mind your impulses," you tease, smirking as his arms tighten around your waist, holding you close.

Noah’s gaze shifts over your shoulder, and he spots Jolly approaching with your shoes in hand, looking mildly amused. A mischievous grin spreads across Noah’s face as he declares, "Get used to them, because I’m about to act on one again."

Before you can respond, he lets out an exaggerated, maniacal laugh—half joking, half triumphant—as he effortlessly scoops you up into his arms. "We’re leaving!" he announces dramatically, already making his way toward the entrance.

You burst into uncontrollable giggles, smacking his shoulder lightly. "Noah! Put me down!"

"Not a chance, princess," he shoots back, grinning ear to ear. "This is what you get for encouraging my bad behavior!"

Jolly shakes his head behind you, muttering something about "lucky shoes" as he follows, but you’re too busy laughing over Noah’s shoulder to care.

[jennay]

New Noah one shot almost ready to go just need to edit. It will be called Dance with Me. It’s fluff cause I love fluff.

I’m taking requests also! 🖤

[jennay]

Summary: Jolly and Reader are first time parents ready for the arrival of their daughter.

Jolly Karlsson x Reader - Fluff

Master list

AN: This might have a few parts eventually cause Jolly as a daddy melts my heart and goofy uncle Noah sounds amazing to write

You sit lazily at the dining room table, surrounded by your friends and Jolly. Noah and his girlfriend, Leah, are visiting to celebrate Jolly’s birthday. This year feels a little different—at nine months pregnant, you’re more irritable than you’d like to admit. You do your best to keep a smile on your face and not dampen the mood. You adore your friends, but deep down, you’re counting the minutes until you can slip out of your clothes and crawl into bed.

As Jolly excitedly shares the name you’ve chosen for your daughter’s arrival with Noah, you rest a hand on your bump, letting out a deep breath. You stretch your back to ease the discomfort, your eyelids fluttering closed for just a moment. A soft groan escapes your lips, drawing all eyes to you.

Jolly’s warm brown eyes search your face as he rests a comforting hand on your knee, gently rubbing your leg. “You alright?” he asks softly. 

“Yep.” You slowly open your eyes, a wry smile tugging at your lips. “Your daughter is just trying to reorganize my organs.”

Jolly chuckles, his hand moving to your belly as he lovingly rubs it, hoping to feel a kick. “Oh, she’s my daughter now, is she?” he teases. “Funny how that changed since this morning when she was all yours.”

Noah pushes his plate forward, his eyes lifting as he opens his mouth to speak. “So, have you settled on Aurora Karlsson, or are you hyphenating like your mom suggested?”

You smile through another contraction, the waves of discomfort growing closer together. You don’t want to alarm Jolly—his stress would only amplify your own.

“Aurora Rose Karlsson,” Jolly announces proudly. “Rose is for (Y/N)’s mother.”

Your eyes well up with tears. The thought of your mother, who’s no longer here, stirs a mix of emotions—joyful memories and the occasional spiral of grief. Pregnancy has heightened everything, leaving your feelings raw and unpredictable.

You dab at the corners of your eyes and rise from your seat. “I’m going to head to the other room,” you say, addressing the group. “I need to get into pajamas and lie down.”

“I’ll be in shortly,” Jolly murmurs, his hand resting on your lower back as he guides you between his legs. “Let me know if you need anything.” You tilt your chin down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He jolts back suddenly, a look of surprise crossing his face as a tiny kick thumps against his chest. “Was that—”

You giggle. “Yeah, she’s probably wondering why I’m still upright.”

“Being a dad is going to be amazing,” Noah says with a grin. “You two are going to be incredible parents.”

“Hopefully, she doesn’t take after me,” you laugh. “I was a nightmare for my parents. God, I don’t want to deal with a miniature version of myself.” You rub your belly and add with a smirk, “And don’t be like your dad either… you’re not allowed to act like him until your late 20s—maybe even your 30s.”

Jolly chuckles, his hand gently rubbing the small of your back. “We’ll just send her to Uncle Noah when she’s naughty,” he teases.

Noah raises his hands in mock defense. “Nope! I get her when she’s in a good mood, and then I send her home full of sugar.”

“Shit,” you groan loudly, your breath hitching. “Joakim,” you say, taking a deep breath. “Either I just peed myself, or my water broke.” You lean on the table for support, your voice rising. “We need to go.”

The room erupts into chaos as the three of them scramble around, momentarily forgetting how to function. You take a steadying breath and calmly call out, “Jolly.”

He freezes mid-step, clutching the baby bag tightly. “Do you need anything else?” he asks, his wide eyes darting around the room. “Bag, clothes… water bottle.” Beads of sweat trickle down his forehead, dampening his hair as he anxiously scans the space.

“I need you to breathe,” you say, your breaths deep and measured. Taking his hands in yours, you press your chest to his. “Please, breathe.” You kiss his knuckles gently. “There’s a baby on the way, and I need you to help me get to the car.”

Jolly nods, snapping into action as he tosses Noah the car keys. “Drive.”

Noah doesn’t hesitate, heading straight for the front door with Leah. “I’ll get the car started,” he calls over his shoulder.

You grip Jolly’s arm, leaning heavily on him as he supports your weight and helps you waddle to the car. “Do you want to lie down?” he asks, concern lacing his voice.

You shake your head and climb into the car, settling in as Jolly slides in beside you. That’s when the contractions hit with a force you can’t describe—waves of pain that make you want to push this baby out right then and there. You swing your leg across the empty seat, leaning back against Jolly for support. He coos softly, holding your hand with all the tenderness he can muster, though you nearly crush his fingers in your grip.

The sounds escaping you are primal, almost otherworldly, as if an exorcism is taking place. “Drive faster!” you scream at Noah, your voice raw with urgency.

“Jolly,” you cry out, tears streaming down your face. “I swear, I never want to do this again!”

When you arrive at the hospital, Leah rushes inside to grab a wheelchair and notify the receptionist. “It’s okay, darling,” Jolly says, holding you steady. “Here.” He guides you into the wheelchair. “Sit.”

“Are you the father?” the receptionist asks.

“Yes,” he replies firmly, already pushing you down the hallway toward the room. “Look, my little bee, your doctor is waiting.”

You sigh with relief as Jolly helps you to your feet, guiding you out of your clothes and into the hospital gown. The doctor wastes no time, immediately beginning her examination.

“We need to get you pushing now,” she says with urgency. “That baby is ready. Honey, I know you wanted an epidural, but it’s too late. She’s coming.”

You nod, your voice strained. “Just get her out of me!”

Jolly grips your hand tightly, his voice steady and reassuring. “You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you.”

“One more big push,” the doctor encourages.

Summoning every ounce of strength, you push with everything you have. A sudden release washes over your exhausted body, and then you hear it—the tiny, miraculous cries of your newborn. The sound soothes you instantly.

They gently place her on your chest, and tears blur your vision. You can hardly believe it—she’s finally here, warm and safe in your arms.

Jolly crouches beside you, his eyes filled with awe as he gazes at his daughter. Pride radiates from him, more than he’s ever felt before. “Baby, you did so well,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “She’s beautiful.”

After a few moments, the nurse gently guided Jolly through cutting the umbilical cord, his hands trembling slightly as he made the delicate snip. Then came her first bath, a tender ritual that left you mesmerized. Watching Jolly cradle his newborn daughter, his every movement filled with awe and care, was the most precious interaction you’d ever witnessed. Even though you’d sworn you’d never go through this again, you knew in your heart you’d endure it all over just to see that beautiful, admiring look on his face.

With the nurse’s help, Jolly carefully wrapped his daughter in a fresh blanket, his touch gentle yet protective. He stared down at her, still in disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite grasp the miracle in his arms. In that moment, he silently vowed to love and protect this tiny human with every fiber of his being.

“We’re parents,” you said softly as Jolly laid Aurora back in your arms.

“Who let that happen?” he teased, a playful grin breaking through his awe.

“Failed birth control,” you quipped with a smirk, “but let’s keep that to ourselves.” You ran your thumb tenderly down your daughter’s cheek, committing every detail of her tiny face to memory. “By the way, you’re a sexy dad.”

“Oh, thanks,” he replied with a chuckle. “Does this mean I can get a dad bod now and stop going to the gym?” He gently pulled back Aurora’s little hat, revealing a head of dark, silky hair. “Her hair is so dark,” he marveled, his smile widening.

“As long as she has the normal amount of fingers and toes, I don’t care what color her hair is,” you said with a yawn, leaning your head back. “Here,” you murmured, holding Aurora out to Jolly. “I need to close my eyes.”

Jolly gladly took her into his arms, his smile uncontrollable as he gazed at her. He carefully counted her tiny fingers, ensuring they were all there. When she instinctively grabbed hold of his finger, refusing to let go, his heart melted. He let out the softest “aw,” his voice filled with wonder.

It didn’t take long for Aurora to have him completely wrapped around her little finger. “I thought your mom would be the only keeper of my heart,” he whispered with a soft laugh, “but here you are, pulling at every string.” He gazed at her with pure adoration. “You’re the best birthday gift I could ever receive.”

As you drifted off, the sound of Jolly’s voice filled the room. He was telling Aurora all about his greatest hits in life, his tone warm and full of love. In that moment, you knew—Jolly was meant for this.

[jennay]

Hiii! How are you???

I’m surviving! Thanks for asking. I hope you’re doing ok too! 🥰

[jennay]

And more of this...

[jennay]

@a-villain-vying-for-attention im cracking up 😂

He let his intrusive thoughts win 👋🏻🍑

[jennay]

🥰

[jennay]

I just finished reading chapter 5 to my best friend and I loved it. Can I please be added to the tag list

Absolutely! I'm so glad you're enjoying it. That makes me happy. ❤️