#I need to cook and it’s getting late and before I can cook I need to do a bunch of cleaning I’ve been putting off and I can’t Not do either

[queen-of-gotham]

Late Night Pancakes

(Batboys x Reader)

Synopsis: where you wake your boyfriend up at 2am to make you pancakes

Notes from the Batcave: request from @delirious-gothamite, enjoy babe!

Bruce Wayne

You nudge him awake at 2 a.m., and he cracks one eye open, expression unreadable.

“…You woke me… for pancakes?” His voice is gravel and judgment.

The first thing out of his mouth isn’t “Why?” but, “We are not waking Alfred at this hour.”

He acts like this is a completely unreasonable request… and yet ten minutes later he’s in the kitchen, making them himself.

They’re burnt. There’s a reason Alfred has him banned from the kitchen.

Dick Grayson

Blinks awake, hair a mess, and is already smiling before you even finish your request.

“Babe. YES. Middle-of-the-night pancakes are the best.”

Throws on sweatpants, puts on music in the kitchen, and flips them with way too much flair, nearly dropping one but saving it midair like a circus act.

Makes them into cute shapes, pours way too much syrup, and insists on eating them together on the kitchen counter with your feet touching.

Jason Todd

“You’re lucky I like you, sweetheart.” Said while burying his face in the pillow.

Acts like you’ve asked him to run a marathon, but eventually drags himself to the kitchen.

His pancakes are thick, almost cake-like, and drowned in butter.

Keeps muttering about how this is “ridiculous” while very clearly enjoying himself, especially when you try to feed him bites as a thank you.

Tim Drake

You shake him awake and get a very confused “…Pancakes?” followed by “Oh. Yeah, sure,” like you just asked if he wanted oxygen.

Adds chocolate chips or fruit without you asking because of course he’s going to overachieve.

Feeds them straight from the pan to you, while you while sit on the counter, legs swinging.

Duke Thomas

Groggy but doesn’t protest much. “You want pancakes? Fine. But I’m making the good ones.”

Pulls out every ingredient like a pro, he’s got secret Saturday-morning breakfast skills.

Teases you the whole time about your “late-night cravings” but makes extra so you can snack on them tomorrow.

Ends up sitting with you in the dark, both of you lit by the fridge light, eating in companionable quiet.

Damian Wayne

Jerks awake instantly, frowning like you just told him Gotham is under siege.

“You’re waking me at 0200 hours for… pancakes?” His tone suggests he’s considering ending the relationship.

Says no at first. Then, five minutes later, shows up in the kitchen muttering about “your appalling lack of self-control” while making perfectly uniform, golden pancakes.

Thankfully he did NOT inherit his dad’s lack of cooking skill.

Sets the plate in front of you with a curt “Eat. Quickly. I’m going back to bed.” But he sits down to watch you, because he needs to see you enjoy them.

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[pitstopparadise]

Slipping Away - CL16

Masterlist

Summary: When you and Charles first got together everything was great. You travelled with him as much as you could, you both went on dates at least twice a month and you hardly ever argued but lately, it seemed like every conversation ended in raised voices and hurt feelings.

Warnings: angst, arguing/yelling, Charles is a little mean in this.

Authors note: This has not been proofread so let me know if you find any mistakes!

When you and Charles first fell for each other, it felt like the world finally made sense, every glance across a crowded room felt like a promise. He’d plan small, thoughtful dates between races— whether that be quiet dinners in hidden restaurants, late night walks along the harbor, or even just small grocery runs that turned into playful banter in grocery store isles.

But lately, those moments have felt few and far between. Conversations that used to flow so easily now feel forced. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had laughed at something he said.

The travel had become more exhausting than exciting. The hotel rooms all blurred into one, and the days between races felt less like quality time and more like an awkward waiting period before the next departure. When it was time for Charles home race in Monaco, you thought things would be a little better. That he would be more relaxed because he would be in his own home.

It was Saturday night, you and Charles had just arrived back home after the qualifying round where Charles had placed p2. You had felt like Charles had been in a better mood the past week, which in turn caused you to start talking more and a little faster than usual, laughing at your own jokes, and gesturing wildly, caught up in the easy comfort of conversation you had hoped would come back.

But Charles hasn’t been paying attention or returning the conversation like he used to. It wasn’t until after you had cooked dinner for you both—something that would fit his diet— and sat down at the table that you finally noticed.

You reached for the salad, animatedly explaining how you’d tried a new dressing recipe, when you noticed his fork hovering mid-air. He wasn’t looking at you. His gaze was fixed on the table, distant.

“Charles… are you even listening?” you asked gently, a tinge of hurt threading through your words.

He let out a sharp sigh and put his fork down. “Can you just stop talking for a minute,” he snapped, voice tighter than you’d heard it be in months.

You froze, fork midway to your mouth. “I—I’m just trying to—”

He cut in, his voice sharper now. “Honestly, I don’t need a play-by-play of your entire day right now. Can you just… be quiet for two seconds?”

You opened your mouth, wanting to defend yourself, but the lump in your throat made it hard to speak. “I… I didn’t realize I was bothering you,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice steady but knowing you failed as you hear it wobble.

“Well you are. I’m exhausted, okay? I’ve been on the track all day, dealing with media, the team… and now I have to listen to you go on and on about salad dressing?” He snaps.

Your heart sank, and your hand gripped your fork a little too tightly.

Charles ran a hand through his hair, sighing but the tension didn’t leave his shoulders. “I need some space.” He says, getting up from the table and walking into your shared bedroom.

You stayed where you are, finishing dinner by yourself and in silence before finally clearing everything up and putting Charles plate in the microwave in case he wants it later.

When you finally walked into the bedroom, you seen Charles sitting up in bed with his back against the headboard, scrolling on his phone. He glances up when he hears you walk into the room but doesn’t say anything, just looks back down at his phone and continues what he was doing.

You exhale softly and decide to go take a shower and try to talk to him when you get out. You walk by him grabbing your clothes and making your way into the bathroom.

The warm water should have been comforting, but it only seemed to amplify the ache in your chest. You let your hands drift over your face as the tears finally slipped down your face.

Steam filled the bathroom, blurring the edges of the mirror, and for a moment, you let yourself imagine a different version of tonight. One where you both laughed over dinner, teasing each other as usual.

When you stepped out of the shower and wrapped yourself in a towel, reality hit again. The apartment was quiet, except for the faint hum of the city outside.

You walked out of the bathroom and seen Charles was still leaning against the headboard, scrolling through his phone, his jaw tight.

You quietly walked to your side of the bed, slipped under the covers, and faced the ceiling. You could feel him there, restless beside you, but neither of you spoke. The argument lingered, unaddressed, each of you caught in your own frustration and hurt.

You closed your eyes, wishing things could go back to the way they were—but deep down, you knew that tonight, like so many nights before, it wasn’t going to happen.

[idontknowmanijustlikereading]

Fam i absolutely adore your unique au and the deeply emotional (and extremely well written like fam you are COOKING😔👌) moments that stem from the interactions between Celine and the girls, but also i know that women's blood pressure has probably been DOUBLED since day one.

Normal teenagers are already insane but haveing not one, not two, but THREE supernatural one's under your supervision. Home girl needs a drink 🍸. Especially after the reveals.

Like she's dropping something off at the girls' house late at night and goes into their kitchen. only to be met with mira hunched over next to the fridge, horns out, and tail curled around her. Miras head jerks to meet her gaze. Revealing 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘯 being CRUSHED between her jaws. She takes its mangled remains in her claws and just says, "i was hungry😅". Celines soul silently leaves her.

Or she goes into zoeys room and doesn't see her even though she 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 her tell her to come in. She hears zoeys voice above her and sees her on the ceiling back 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 in half with her neck 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘵 to look at her, and zoey just goes 👋😃"hi! i wanted to see how long i could hold this pose before blood rushed to my head. " Celine almost curses.

What other supernatural shenanigans do you think the girls get up too during training accidental or other wise?

Oh so much shit I tell you. Honestly, Celine should be getting paid for all this shit, but alas.

When Zoey got an even better grip on her illusions, you can bet your ass she just had a copy of herself going to Celine whenever she needed help with something and didn't feel like moving. The first time the illusion copy faded out in front of her she nearly had a heart-attack. Then Zoey just casually pops her head up from behind the couch "Can I purchase this animal documentary on *insert random site for movies and shit*"

"...Sure Zoey."

And the amount of times she has nearly tripped over Mira's tail, because the damn thing is always invincible, is astonishing (more than half of those times it was purposeful on Mira's end). The good thing about that tho is that she literally developed a sense of echolocation for that shit. She'd hear the ways her shoes clicked on the floor and if it sounded 'strange' at some point, she learned to take a larger step because Mira's tail was there. It was very helpful when hunting demons in the dark. Less helpful for Mira who could no longer use that as entertainment or small payback for the harsh training.

She has lost count of how many times she's had to reinforce chandeliers and other things on the ceilings with how much Zoey likes to dangle or do general acrobatics from them. She even had actual handlebars and grips installed to discourage her from using the decorations. (She was genuinely surprised that is worked).

There was also the time she had to try and soothe an inconsolable Rumi who though she had just broken Zoey's arm. They had been sparring with staffs, and at one point she hits Zoey's with enough force for Zoey's arm to bend backwards with a crack(the crack was the wood of the staff). Far more than any human elbow should be able to bend, double jointed or not, I'm talking basically a 90 degree angle. They both knew that shit wasn't normal, so Zoey had to put on an Oscar worthy performance, all while fighting the urge to come clean because of how genuinely distressed Rumi was. (Celine had the most mirthful look in her eyes whenever they were alone after that. Because Zoey had to wear a useless cast for over a week. Celine managing to spin the tale of the honmoon aiding her recovery process a lot. Rumi believes it because she also heals quickly(honmoon and demon genetics) and so does Mira (honmoon and dragon genetics). Zoey was not a happy camper. Until she realized that she got even more of a princess treatment from the other two while "recovering". Celine gave them the week off, because there was no way in hell she was gonna try to pry them away from each other. She didn't feel like getting bit, thank you. It's a toss up on who'd do the biting. Even "injured", Zoey was the highest contender.

Celine also invests in some good sunlamps for Mira for the winters. Because, while yes, she is a water dragon who thrives in the cold, she is still very much a reptile. And if there is something reptiles loves doing, it's curling up on a nice warm rock and enjoying the warmth of the sun.

It just gets worse after the reveal.

Because now Celine has to deal with a half demon as well. She could deal with Zoey speed-blitzing into her space, but Rumi just randomly teleporting up right behind her? That takes a lot of time getting used to, and she also doesn't really want to get used to it. That's a big problem with Rumi's abilities. They're demonic, and none of them can afford to get used to her doing them, because habits breed hesitation. What if a demon with ill intent suddenly teleports behind them and they hesitate because they can't risk it being Rumi?

This actually ends up being a bit of a problem, until Celine just goes: "Okay, fuck it. No more of this."

Mira and Zoey are ready to throw hands because they think she means that Rumi needs to go back to suppressing herself. Rumi is resigned in a "I hate this but I guess it makes sense" way (no honey it doesn't, you deserve to be yourself just like the rest of them). But Celine just grabs Mira by the horn and Zoey by the ear and starts walking, gesturing with her head for Rumi to come along.

This all goes down before the honmoon is sealed in the movie events, so there are still a fair amount of demons coming through some cracks.

What they do is; three of them are attacking the demons, while the fourth sits down in the middle of it all and concentrates, while Rumi teleports and acts as demonic as she possibly can. Then they go to a new spot and a new person sits down. And on and on and on. (Rumi is always acting demonic tho)

What they're doing is learning the difference. The demons are all using Gwi-ma's powers to do all their freaky shit, but Rumi uses not only his power, but the power of the honmoon as well. There is a subtle difference. Very subtle indeed, but a difference nonetheless.

It takes them days- weeks, but soon enough it's as easy as breathing.

Even if it's still not good for Celine's blood pressure to have someone just poof into existence right in front of her face.

[sapphirelightningbug]

WHAT ABOUT JIMMY OLSEN X READER W THE WHOLE “I had no where else to go” TROPE LIKE READER SHOWS UP SUPER LATE ONE NIGHT IN SEARCH OF COMFORT, MAYBE ENEMIES TO LOVERS? ALSO LIKE A DRUNKEN LOVE CONFESSION FROM EITHER JIMMY OR READER 🩷?!

Late Night Visits [Jimmy Olsen x Reader]

DC Masterlist | Request Rules

Word Count: 2.5k

Content Warnings: General drunkeness, like one mention of something suggestive, that's it!

Comment if you'd like to be tagged in future works!

Taglist in the comments!

It's 11:30, and you're at Jimmy Olsen's doorstep, panicking and so very drunk. Your date hadn't gone as planned, and his was the closest apartment you knew, so you wouldn't have to be alone on the streets, potentially with that creep following after you. You wanted to get inside sooner rather than later because you were inebriated, half-dressed, and very anxious. Your knocks stopped when Jimmy came to his door in a pair of basketball shorts and a white t-shirt.

He looked through the peephole before opening the door. You know Metropolis, it always has those pesky salespeople. Still, it was late. He was still awake because his sleep schedule is irregular, but when he sees you standing outside, looking cold with mascara smeared over your face, he's concerned. He opens the door and gives you a once-over.

"(Y/N)? What are you doing here?" He looked confused but not disappointed. You and Jimmy had a complicated past. You'd become friends, then a misunderstanding with a stolen article left you sore and untrusting of him. Still, when you had nowhere else to go, he was there, of course, he was as much as you hated to admit it, Jimmy was reliable.

"Can I come in?" Your voice was urgent, and you were visibly on edge. He thinks quickly, but figures there's no reason he shouldn't, especially with the state you are in. He ushers you in, closing the door behind you with a thud.

"Of course," He locks the deadbolt and chains the door before bringing you over to his tan couch and sitting you down. Your outfit was a bit revealing, making his cheeks heat slightly. He'd always been attracted to you, but he hated to see you in this kind of state. "What's wrong?" He looks over you to make sure you weren't hurt. He didn't see any physical injuries, but you were clearly intoxicated with potentially more than alcohol.

"I had a date," you admitted. His eyebrows shot up; that worried him even more. Had the guy who took you out hurt you? Why did you feel the need to come see him?

"Okay? And?" He stands a few feet away from the couch, making sure you're not going to pass out or throw up. His eyebrows are pinched, and his soft blues worried.

"I think he slipped something into my drink," Jimmy was suddenly alarmed and moved to the kitchen to grab you a glass of water. The kitchen that was attached to his living room was small, but it was enough space for him to store his food and occasionally cook. He grabs a cup from the cupboard, its smooth, rounded glass almost slick under his touch.

"Do you feel like you're going to be sick?" He kind of shouts from the other room, trying to be quick. He rushes out, trying not to spill the drink or clumsily trip over himself, which he had done. More than once. When he brings the cup to you, he helps you bring it to your lips. You sip slowly, small slurping sounds leaking from your lips, and you pull back.

"No, it's not that bad." You take the glass from his hands and inhale deeply through your nose, trying to calm down. He slides onto the couch next to you. "I just feel gross and really dizzy," You frown, and he rubs your back softly. "I'm really sorry for coming here, Jimmy. I just didn't know where else to go, and I didn't know if he was following me, or what?" Jimmy nods, understandingly. His hand comes back to his lap, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

"Don't apologize," he whispers. "I'm glad you came. I don't want you getting hurt." His smile is soft, and it's neither happy nor pitiful; it's something in the middle, like he's glad you came to him, but he's angry for the reason. He leans back into the lofty couch, a grimace on his face.

"I'm sorry I made everything so terrible." Your eyes are teary. You try to swipe at it and come away with a smudge of black on the side of your hand. He looks confused and shakes his head.

"You didn't do anything, none of this is your fault," He's worried that there's something wrong, but then he realizes what you are talking about. "Oh, you mean- no, it's fine. I've never held it against you," his grimace turned into a frown. When the name mix-up happened at the planet a few months ago, he would have done anything to make you believe him. That what happened wasn't on purpose.

In short, earlier in the year, in February, you had spent weeks working on an article. A full exposé on the superheroes of Metropolis, complete with photos you'd taken, interviews you'd done, and biographies you'd taken over a week to write. It broke your heart when it got published under his name. Title: A Complete History and Current Affairs of Metropolis' Superheroes, By Jimmy Olsen. He didn't take credit for it, but the damage had already been done. It was in the papers; you could edit it online, but by the time it was noticed, it had already been out for hours. You never forgave Jimmy, though obviously you knew it couldn't have been his fault, just an honest mistake from Perry.

Since, and honestly, before, your feelings for Jimmy had been complicated. He was attractive, it was something you couldn't deny, and yes, you imagined dating him, and he sometimes slipped into your fantasies, but you didn't have a crush on him. Right? You liked Jimmy; that was clear, it was something you knew, but the extent of the interest was yet to be accepted.

Jimmy was watching you, your silence worrying him. You looked as if you'd spaced out, but he wanted to make sure you were okay. He reached for your hand, the one that wasn't clutched around the glass. You looked at him, the sobering realization of your feelings scaring the hell out of you.

"Jimmy?" Your eyes glazed over him; he was pushed into the soft couch, stiff and anxious, a complete contrast.

"Yeah?" He avoided your gaze, unwilling to face the warmth of it.

"I like you," it was kind of slurred with small and deep breaths.

"Oh," he shifted uncomfortably, "Me too, but you're drunk and you need to be clear of mind before making any rash decisions." His voice was gentle, caring; you knew he would never rush you into anything. Your face falls, fuzzy brain confused. "Do you want to get some clothes on?" He asks, eyeing your body in the tight dress.

"Uhm, sure," You nod. He stands and ushers you to his room. You sit on his bed while he rifles through his closet. Sifting through the clothes in there, he finds a pair of sweatpants he thinks would fit you and one of his Metropolis Meteors t-shirt jerseys. He comes out with them in hand.

"Do you think these will work?" You nod, and he hands them to you before kneeling in front of you. "I'm gonna help you out of these heels, okay?" You stick your leg out a little so he can easily grasp the clasp. The first heel comes off easily, and he runs his thumb over the arch of your foot, applying pressure and giving you massive relief. The intimacy of it all makes a heat rise up from your neck and to your cheeks. He does the same with the other foot, before standing. "Alright, get dressed, I'll be out there," He points out to the living room before walking to the door and shutting it behind him as he leaves to give you privacy.

You wobble out a few minutes later, sweatpants hanging haphazardly from your waist and sliding to your hip. He urges you to sit back with him. Moving to slide back in next to him, you try to snuggle into him, and he stiffens.

"Do you not like me, Jimmy?" It almost comes out as a whine. He isn’t entirely sure where you got that from, considering minutes ago, you’d shared quite the intimate moment. You hiccup, and he is quick to reassure you.

"No, no, I like you so much you don't know how much I like you," He's cupping your cheek as you babble things he can't make out. "You're just super drunk, and I don't want you to do anything you will regret." You know he's telling the truth because Jimmy Olsen respects you, which is much more than you can say about that asshole you went out with.

"Okay," Your eyes are teary, and you lean into his touch, soft fingers pressing into the plush of your cheeks. He hesitantly shifted you into his side so you could get comfortable. You snuggle into his side, a satisfied smile coming to your exhausted face. He takes the cup from her hands and places it on the red wood-stained coffee table. "Can we put on some TV?" Your sleepy eyes wandered up to him, and he nodded.

"Yeah, sure," He picks the controller up from the arm of the couch. Clicking the power button, he turns the television on and glances down at her. "What do you want to watch?" You grumble.

"Mmm, do you have Netflix on this thing?" He nods and looks over you, watching for any signs of discomfort. "Hm, what about... Bridgerton?" Jimmy chuckles.

"You want to watch Bridgerton?"

"Yeah," Your voice is breathy and tired as you let out a yawn.

"Okay," You eyeball the screen as he navigates to the Bridgerton page and presses play on the first episode. The first few minutes play before your snores are audible to Jimmy. He brushes the hair out of your face, fingertips gently trailing over your cheekbones.

After a few more minutes of him mindlessly staring at the television, he stands, lifting you and carrying you into his room. He strained at the weight but was able to place you delicately onto the plush mattress. You toss lightly, tucking your knees into your chest. He brings the blanket up to cover you. He wets his lips with his tongue before walking out of the room, hands in his pockets.

The linen closet at the end of the hall has a throw blanket and pillow in it that he collects and brings out to the sofa. He sets everything up before getting comfortable. Head sinking into the pillow, he falls asleep soundly.

When you wake up in the morning, the room around you is unfamiliar, but the scent is. A musky spice, a cologne you've smelt a thousand times before, you just haven't given much thought to it. Now, being wrapped up in it, you realize where you are. A Metropolis Meteors poster and various photos on the walls hinted that you were, in fact, where you assumed. Your heart dropped. A glass of water sat on the bedside table with two Tylenol. Your head was pounding with a tense pulse. Opting to take the medicine, you swallow it down with water.

You unwrap yourself from the blankets and stumble on wobbly legs out to the living room. At once, noticing the clothes that, while comfortable, definitely were not yours. Especially because you’d left the night prior in a dress. Coming out into the living room, you noticed a stray blanket on the couch. Your head snapped to the side, and Jimmy’s familiar face was there. Standing in the kitchen in the same loose basketball shorts and t-shirt from the night prior, holding a red plastic spatula, he was cooking some eggs.

Jimmy, as always, was a vision. All sandy ginger hair and soft eyes. Pink rounded cheeks with freckles that danced over every inch of him. Downturned eyes that looked your way and made your already wobbly legs weaker. Lastly, that beautiful boyish smile that caressed his pinkish coral lips and showed his straight teeth.

“Sorry, I don’t have a lot of breakfast foods. I wasn’t really expecting company this morning,” you stepped towards him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Uhm, why am I here?” He rubbed the back of his neck with the hand not holding the spatula.

“You came here last night, you were drunk? Your date roofied you or something of the like,” he focused on frying the eggs while he spoke. Stepping into the kitchen, you lean your hip against the counter. Crossing your arms, you watched him.

“And what happened?” you asked. Listening to the eggs sizzling as they hit the heat of the pan.

“We chatted a little, gave you some clothes, and let you have the bed so you could sleep it off,” he shrugs.

“Chatted about what?” You were guarded. Praying that you hadn’t said or done anything stupid.

“Your date… oh gosh, you said you liked me, obviously you were drunk, it wasn’t anything,” Eyebrows raised as you blinked. You looked dumbfounded. Of course, you did like him, but Jesus, why did you have to tell him while you were drunk?

“I mean, yes, I like you, but that shouldn’t matter; you hate me.” his head snapped over to you, confused.

“I do not hate you,” he frowned, Where had you gotten that idea from. He took the eggs from the heat and plated them. The plates were ceramic and tan, maybe pottery? He offered it to you, and you took it, waiting for him to join you.

“So what, you just act like it?” God, he wished you could remember last night all the gentle niceties and small things he’d done because he knew he couldn’t really do anything. Couldn’t kiss you. Couldn’t tell you in confidence how much he adored you.

“I’m not trying to, I,” he took a deep breath, “I really do like you.” It was quiet, almost a whisper. The sun came in through a window across from him and lit his hair into a blaze of browns and reds. You reached for his hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

“Maybe we can work on it?” A soft smile graced your face as you squeezed his hand. “Try things out?” A grub broke out on his face, all teeth and pink cheeks, freckles and smudges of lines from sleeping weird the night before.

“I’d like that, yeah,” he said, unlacing his hand from yours and grabbing two marbled glasses from the cupboard. Slipping his hand into the fridge, he set his plate down before pouring two cups of orange juice and handing one to you. Once your hands were both full, he placed the gallon back into the refrigerator and pulled you into the living room. Sitting you down on the couch, he slid next to you and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “Let’s eat.”

[euphicess]

Bookshop Shadow

Pairing: Choi Seunghyun x reader

Summary: You’re browsing in a little secondhand bookstore, and he disappears for a while. When you find him, he’s been quietly holding a stack of books he picked out for you because “they looked like you’d love them.“

Warnings: None, just pure fluff and Seunghyun being Seunghyun.

Autors Note: Actually got nothing to say. Requests are still open tho. Currently working on an request but I needed to get this off my chest. Enjoyyy! 🫶🏻

//

The apartment smelled faintly of garlic and soy, the warm haze of late afternoon pooling in the kitchen like honey. You stood at the stove, wooden spoon in hand, watching steam curl lazily from the pot. The faint crackle of scallions hitting oil filled the quiet, broken only by the low hum of the ventilation fan and the occasional shuffle of your slippers against the tiled floor.

Behind you, a door creaked open — soft at first, then the slow, deliberate tread of heavy feet down the hall. You didn’t have to look to know it was him. That unhurried pace was so distinctly Seunghyun’s, like each step had to be considered before he gave it permission.

When he finally appeared in the doorway, hair flattened on one side from sleep, sweater sleeves pushed haphazardly up his forearms, his eyes were still half-lidded from the nap you knew he’d needed. “Mm,” he rumbled, voice still thick with sleep, “smells good.”

“You sound like you’ve just been resurrected,” you teased, glancing over your shoulder. “How long were you out?”

He leaned against the doorframe, rubbing the heel of his hand over his face. “Long enough,” he murmured. “Studio ran late last night.”

You didn’t press — you knew how consumed he’d been these past months, the way his solo project had swallowed his days whole. Instead, you waved him toward the table. “Sit. I’ll bring it over.”

He obeyed without protest, lowering himself into the chair with that quiet heaviness that came from carrying too much for too long. By the time you set the bowls down in front of him, his eyes had softened, that subtle shift from public Seunghyun to yours alone. Dinner was quiet, comfortable — the kind of silence you didn’t feel the need to fill. You watched him eat slowly, the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth when you leaned over to refill his glass.

Halfway through the meal, your phone buzzed on the table. You picked it up without much thought, scrolling absently as you chewed. A post caught your eye — a photo of a quaint little bookstore tucked in a side street downtown, the caption boasting about its rare finds and hidden nooks.

Without thinking, you blurted, “We should go here.”

He didn’t even glance at your phone. “Now?”

“Yes, now,” you said, turning the screen toward him. Seunghyun glanced at it briefly, then returned his attention to his food, one brow lifting. “You want to drag me out after I just woke up?” “You’ve been inside for days,” you countered, nudging his knee with your foot under the table. “Fresh air. Stories. Maybe a cup of coffee on the way.”

He let out a low chuckle, deep and reluctant. “You make it sound like an adventure.”

“It is,” you insisted, leaning forward on your elbows. “Come on. You can sulk in the poetry section while I browse the rest.”

His eyes met yours then — tired but fond, the kind of gaze that always made it hard to tell if you’d just won or if he’d been planning to give in all along. He exhaled slowly, setting his chopsticks down. “Fine,” he said at last, though the word was softened by the faintest smile. “But you’re carrying the bags.”

By the time the bowls were empty, his shoulders had loosened a little — not much, but enough that you noticed. He sat back in his chair, absently twirling the empty glass between his fingers while you began stacking the dishes. “I’ll do that,” he said, starting to rise. “You cooked last month,” you shot back over your shoulder, rinsing the first bowl under warm water. “My turn.”

A low hum of amusement slipped from him — the kind that said he knew there was no winning this one. Still, he hovered in the kitchen for a minute, leaning against the counter, watching you move with quiet interest. When you shooed him toward the living room, he only crossed the space between you instead, slipping his arms loosely around your waist from behind.

You felt the weight of his chin rest on your shoulder, his sweater warm against your back. “You’re stubborn,” he murmured. “And you’re in the way,” you replied, though your tone was soft. He didn’t move immediately. Instead, he let his lips brush your temple, slow and lingering, before pulling back just enough to turn you in his arms. His eyes — still a little drowsy, but focused entirely on you now — held yours for a long beat. Then, without ceremony, he kissed you.

It wasn’t deep or rushed, just the familiar press of his mouth against yours, warm and unhurried. A kiss that lingered an extra heartbeat longer than it needed to. When he pulled away, he touched the corner of your mouth with his thumb, a faint smile curving his lips. “I’ll change,” he said simply.

You watched him pad down the hall toward the bedroom, the sound of his footsteps muffled against the hardwood. A few minutes later, he reemerged — black hoodie, his grey-ish looking like gravity jackets adored his frame, his usual cap just visible, glasses perched on his nose. The cap framed his face in a way that made him look both more guarded and more himself. Dark jeans, his white shoes, one hand in his pocket — casual, comfortable, and entirely Seunghyun.

He glanced toward the door, then back at you. “You ready?” You nodded, slipping on your coat, and he reached past you to open the door, holding it without a word. There was nothing grand about the gesture, but that was the thing about him — it never had to be.

Outside, the city felt softer than usual — maybe it was the hour, maybe the season. The air carried that faint crispness that only autumn could bring, cool enough to make you tuck your hands into your sleeves but not enough to rush you along.

The breeze toyed with the ends of your hair as you and Seunghyun fell into step together, his stride naturally slower to match yours. Neither of you spoke much at first; there was no need. The rhythm of Seoul at this hour — the muffled hum of passing cars, the occasional chatter spilling from an open café door — filled in the spaces.

Half a block down, the warm glow of a coffee shop pulled you in without discussion. The windows were slightly fogged, the scent of espresso spilling into the street as Seunghyun pushed the door open for you. Inside, the warmth wrapped around you instantly. His hands intertwined in front of him as you ordered, his gaze flicking over the chalkboard menu though you suspected he already knew what he wanted.

“Americano,” he said when the barista looked his way, voice low but steady. You added your order, and a moment later you were both standing off to the side, watching the steam rise from behind the counter. You brushed your fingers against his — a casual, barely-there touch — and felt him shift just enough to link them together. No glance, no smile, just his thumb pressing lightly against your knuckles in acknowledgment.

When the drinks were ready, you stepped back into the street, cardboard cups warm in your hands. The city stretched ahead of you, leaves skittering across the pavement in sudden gusts.

For a while, you just walked.

His free hand stayed buried in the pocket of his jacket, but his presence was steady beside you, a kind of quiet anchor against the moving city. He didn’t fill the air with talk; instead, every now and then, you caught the way his gaze drifted toward you, as if making sure you were warm enough, as if he liked the way the streetlight caught in your hair.

The bookstore was still a few blocks away, its neon sign barely visible in the distance. You took a sip of your coffee and smiled to yourself, knowing he’d come along half out of reluctance, half out of not wanting to say no to you — and maybe, if you were reading him right, already glad he’d agreed.

//

The bell above the door chimed softly as you stepped into the bookstore. It was smaller than you remembered, the kind of place where every shelf leaned slightly from the weight of stories, and the air smelled faintly of paper and dust — a scent you could never get enough of.

Seunghyun followed you in, cap brim shadowing his face. His gaze swept the room once, cataloging the layout like he always did, before his hands slid into his pockets. He didn’t make a move toward the shelves at first; instead, he leaned lightly against the counter near the entrance, watching you wander down the narrow aisles. You trailed your fingers along the spines, scanning titles with a quiet focus. Somewhere in the back, the faint sound of a record played through a single speaker — the low, warm hum of a jazz tune.

When you glanced over your shoulder, Seunghyun wasn’t by the counter anymore. He’d moved, silent as ever, slipping between two shelves. He didn’t call for you or tell you what he was looking at. Just… disappeared deeper into the store.

You kept browsing, but a part of you noticed how long he’d been gone.

A few minutes later, you caught sight of him again — not watching you this time, but standing in the corner near a small table stacked with novels. His head was bent, fingers brushing over the covers, flipping one open to read the inside flap. The pile in his arms was already four books high. You walked over, quiet on the worn wooden floorboards. He didn’t notice you until you were close enough to see the slight crease between his brows. “Are those for you?” you asked softly, tilting your head toward the stack.

His eyes lifted to yours, dark and unreadable for a beat. Then, with the faintest curve of his mouth, he said, “No. These… looked like you’d love them.” Your chest warmed, though you tried not to let it show. “You weren’t even going to tell me?”

He shrugged one shoulder, gaze flicking away like it was nothing. “You’d have found them eventually.” You didn’t call him out on the lie — on how he’d disappeared the moment you got distracted, on how each book in his arms was so specifically your taste it almost startled you. Instead, you stepped closer, your hand brushing the sleeve of his hoodie as you reached to take the top one from his stack.

The faintest hum of the jazz track filled the quiet between you, and when you looked up again, his eyes were already on you — not hurried, not expectant, just steady, like he’d been standing there all along, waiting.

You shifted the book in your hands, tracing the worn edges of the cover before placing it back on his stack. “Let’s get them, then,” you murmured. He didn’t argue, just adjusted the pile in his arms and followed you toward the front counter. The floor creaked softly under your steps, each sound blending with the low hiss of the jazz playing somewhere in the background.

The cashier — a man in his fifties with wire-rimmed glasses — glanced up from a paperback when you approached. His eyes darted briefly to Seunghyun, lingering on the cap and his glasses, but he didn’t say anything beyond a warm, “Find everything you needed?” You smiled faintly. “More than I meant to.”

Seunghyun set the stack down on the counter, his hands sliding back into his pockets as the man began scanning the books one by one. He stood close enough that the edge of his sleeve brushed yours, close enough for you to catch the faint trace of his cologne — clean, warm, familiar. The man behind the counter wrapped each book in soft brown paper before slipping them into a cloth bag. “You’ve got good taste,” he said, glancing at you. “She does,” Seunghyun answered simply, his tone low and unhurried, but there was a weight in it that made you glance up at him. His gaze didn’t waver.

The cashier handed you the bag. You took it automatically, but before you could shift it onto your shoulder, Seunghyun reached out, curling his long fingers around the handles. “I’ll carry it.”

It wasn’t up for debate.

You stepped back out into the late afternoon air together. The breeze carried the faint bite of autumn now, sharper than earlier, but Seunghyun didn’t seem to notice. He walked beside you, the bag of books swinging lightly at his side, his other hand buried in the pocket of his jacket.

The streets were quieter here, lined with gingko trees beginning to turn gold. Somewhere down the block, a café door opened, spilling the scent of roasted coffee into the air.

For a while, you didn’t speak — just walked in step, your shoulder brushing his now and then, both of you folded into the kind of silence that felt full rather than empty.

You let your eyes wander over the shopfronts as you walked, their windows catching the amber light of late afternoon. But every so often, your gaze drifted sideways — to him.

The way the edge of his cap shadowed his face, the set of his jaw relaxed but not careless, the quiet steadiness in the way he moved and for just a second you caught the sharp line of his cheekbone. It made something in you soften, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth before you could stop it. You looked away quickly, pretending to study the leaves skittering along the sidewalk, but the warmth lingered.

A few steps later, you reached for him without really thinking — fingers slipping into the pocket of his jacket. His hand was warm, curled loosely inside, and you tugged it out gently.

He glanced down at you, one brow raising just slightly, but didn’t resist as you threaded your fingers through his. The size difference was stark — his hand completely wrapping around yours — but he gave your joined hands a subtle squeeze, a quiet acknowledgment, before his thumb began idly brushing over the back of yours. You kept walking like that, the bag of books still swinging at his other side, the city moving around you in soft blurs.

And for a little while, the world felt very far away

By the time you reached the apartment, the air had cooled just enough to make the warmth inside feel like an embrace. Seunghyun unlocked the door, stepping in first out of habit, his shoulder brushing yours as you followed.

He toed off his sneakers by the entryway, setting the bag of books carefully on the console table — not dropping it like something bought on a whim, but placing it down as if it mattered. You watched him for a beat, that small, deliberate act making something in your chest pull tight.

“Tea?” you asked, shrugging off your coat. He hummed in answer, already heading toward the kitchen. You knew without looking that he’d pick your favorite mug out first, his movements unhurried but certain. By the time you padded in, he was leaning against the counter, one hand tucked into his hoodie pocket again, the other stirring honey into the steaming cup he’d just set down for you.

“You’re quiet,” you teased, stepping closer, the soft sound of the spoon against ceramic filling the space between your voices. “I’m tired,” he murmured — but his eyes found yours, steady, and you knew he meant more than that. You took the tea from him, fingers brushing over his. He didn’t pull back, even when you lingered there, your knuckles resting against his palm.

Later, after the books had been stacked neatly on the coffee table, he sank into the couch beside you, cap still on, hood half-up. His arm came around without fanfare, pulling you in until your side was pressed to his. Outside, the wind shifted, carrying with it the faint rustle of autumn leaves. Inside, the only movement was the slow rise and fall of his breathing, steady enough to make you want to close your eyes and let the evening settle around you.

You reached for one of the books from the small stack, its worn cover already feeling like it belonged in your hands. Seunghyun’s gaze followed the motion, and without a word, he took it from you, turning it over in his long fingers like he was weighing something unseen.

“Sit,” he said quietly, and you did — tucking your legs up on the couch beside him. He adjusted just enough to face you, flipping the book open to a random page. His voice was low as he began to read, each word unhurried, measured in that way he had of making even silence feel deliberate. His freshly cut hair laid slightly messily over his forehead and you found yourself watching him more than the pages. At one point, your eyes met. He paused mid-sentence, one corner of his mouth tugging upward — not a smile exactly, but the ghost of one, reserved just for you.

“What?” he asked, tone faintly amused. “Nothing,” you murmured, leaning your chin on your hand. “Just… like seeing you like this.”

He shook his head, a quiet huff escaping him, and went back to reading. But his arm slid around you again, hand resting warm against your side. The pages turned slowly, the soft rasp of paper filling the spaces between his words. When he finally stopped, he closed the book and handed it back to you without looking, his gaze still on the cover. “You’ll like this one.”

“You think so?” you teased. “I know so.” And there was no trace of doubt in his voice. You leaned in, pressing a brief kiss to his jaw. He didn’t move, but the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away. The rest of the evening passed in that kind of quiet — your head against his shoulder, the books resting between you like a promise that the world outside could wait.

By the time the sky outside had turned a deep, inky blue, the quiet between you had shifted from bookstore stillness to something warmer, homier. You slipped out from under his arm with a gentle pat to his chest, his brow creasing faintly at the loss of your weight. “Where are you going?” His voice was low, a little rough with the beginnings of drowsiness. “To feed you,” you said simply, heading for the kitchen. “You’ve barely eaten today.”

That earned you a quiet exhale that could have been a laugh. “Bossy,” he murmured, but you could hear the affection in it. You moved easily in the small space, the overhead light pooling golden over the counter as you pulled out ingredients. Seunghyun stayed where he was for a few minutes — you could feel his gaze following you — before finally getting up. His footsteps were unhurried, his socks whispering against the floor. “You could sit,” you offered without looking up.

“Mm.” He came to stand behind you instead, hands finding your waist as if it was the most natural place for them to be. His chin lowered until it hovered just above your shoulder, his breath brushing your neck. “You’re distracting,” you said, trying to keep your focus on chopping vegetables. “That’s the point,” he replied, voice warm and smug.

The two of you slipped into that easy rhythm — you cooking, him half-helping and half-stealing bites when he thought you wouldn’t notice. He passed you a glass of water without asking, brushed your hair back when it fell forward, and dropped a kiss to the crown of your head that made your hands still for a moment. “Smells good,” he said after a while, leaning against the counter with his arms folded. “Of course it does,” you teased, sliding the pan off the heat. “I’m making it.”

Dinner was unhurried — you sitting across from each other, trading small bites, and occasionally drifting into comfortable silence. He kept watching you, though, his gaze lingering longer than necessary, like he was still carrying that bookshop softness in him. Afterward, you stood to clear the dishes, but he intercepted you, taking the plates from your hands. “Go. Sit,” he said, not quite meeting your eyes.

You leaned in, pressing a brief kiss to his jaw. He didn’t move, but the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away. The rest of the evening passed in that kind of quiet — your head against his shoulder, his beanie still in place, the books resting between you like a promise that the world outside could wait.

Later, when the dishes were done and the apartment had settled into that muted hum that only came after nightfall, you found him still sprawled on the couch, book in hand. He hadn’t bothered with the lamp — just the soft wash of light from the kitchen spilling across him, catching the edge of his jaw and the frames of his glasses. “Are you planning to sleep out here?” you asked, leaning against the doorway.

He didn’t look up immediately, just finished the paragraph he was on, closed the book with a quiet thud, and finally met your eyes. “Was waiting for you.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips tugged into a smile anyway. “You could’ve said that earlier.” “And interrupt your cleaning?” He stood, stretching with a lazy roll of his shoulders. “Dangerous.”

The two of you drifted to the bedroom, his steps slow in that way only he could manage — unhurried, like nothing in the world could pull him faster. He pulled open the closet and reached for his favorite pajama set: deep navy with small white polka dots, the fabric soft and worn from years of use. You’d teased him about it before, but secretly, you liked how much it felt like him.

You changed into your own sleep clothes while he disappeared into the bathroom, toothbrush in hand. By the time you joined him, he was leaning casually against the sink, head tilted toward you in the mirror. “Don’t rush,” he said around the faint foam of toothpaste. “We have nowhere to be.”

You nudged his hip with yours in reply, and he let out a small laugh, spitting into the sink before handing you the cup of water without asking. It was such a small thing, but it made warmth rise in your chest anyway. When you were done, he took your toothbrush from you, rinsed it, and placed it in the holder before switching off the bathroom light. The quiet between you was easy, your footsteps soft as you padded back to the bedroom.

He pulled on the pajama top, buttoning it lazily, while you slipped under the covers. The mattress dipped when he joined you, his arm immediately finding its way around your waist, pulling you in until you could feel the steady thump of his heart against your cheek. “You smell like the bookstore,” you murmured, teasing. He made a low sound of acknowledgment, already halfway to sleep. “You smell like dinner.”

You laughed softly, tracing idle patterns along his chest until his breathing deepened. His thumb brushed over your hip in slow, absent circles, the last movements before he finally stilled completely.

And just like that, the day gave way to night — the city outside still moving, but in here, you were wrapped up in his warmth, letting the world wait until morning.

//

[munsonsreputation]

FRIDAY IM IN LOVE

joel miller x fem!reader

word count: [10.8K]

summary: Joel’s favorite day of the week is Friday and for good reason.

OR

Joel knows you're prone to stressful weeks and he does what he can to take some of it off your plate and get you through to Friday.

warnings: no use of y/n, no outbreak, age-gap (joel is late 30s/early 40s and reader is in her mid to late 20s), reader is also in college & has an internship, sarah is alive and well and happy (!!!!), sarah is also in high school (freshman i think are like 14? 15? so yeah that's how old she is), joel's love language is acts of service and literally the rest of them too, lots of joel comforting reader w cuddles and dinner, and words of affirmation, slight mention of stress and sleep depravation (?), basically a bunch of fluff and domestic life with the Millers <3

Mondays are regularly a rough one, no matter if you wake up on the right side of the bed or put your best foot forward. But Joel understands it completely. The start of the demanding days ahead, and you just want it to be over before it has even truly begun.

It’s routine by now and he gets it—he always will until routine changes and you decide otherwise.

On this particular Monday, the sun has already begun to set. Rays of oranges and pinks filter through the backyard sliding door and into the kitchen. The big light is already being switched on, slightly brightening up the space where Sarah sits at the island working on her essay while Joel busies himself with making dinner.

In the distance, he can finally hear the rumbling of your car pulling into the driveway. The kill of the engine and the keys jingling as you unlock the deadbolt, letting yourself in.

“Hey babes.” You call out just loud enough for them to hear, shutting the door behind you.

You toe off your shoes, dropping your bags to the ground and keys into the ceramic bowl beside his. Padding across the house, you follow the sounds of faint bustling, entering the kitchen where you find them like two peas in a pod, never far away from one another. 

He and Sarah turn their heads, watching a tired yet content smile wash over your face, eyes crinkling at the edges despite the fatigue in your orbs. The day has so clearly worn you down, yet coming home to see their faces makes it all feel a little better, no matter how crappy the hours prior have been. 

“Hey hey.” Sarah beams as you round the island, hugging her from behind.

You take a quick peek at the progress she’s made on her essay since she first asked you to look over it last week. There are more paragraphs now, and it looks more complete—the suggestions you had initially made in the margins were erased having been considered upon her best judgement.

You whisper out a quiet ‘good job’ before leaving her alone to continue working, before trailing towards Joel. He hovers over the stove with a kitchen towel thrown over his shoulder, deeply observing the pot over the open flame.

You wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss to the middle of his back, where you feel him chuckle and reach behind you to run his palm over your hip.

“Hi there darlin’” he greets, covering the lid and drawing you to his side, holding you tight to his chest and placing a kiss on the top of your head.

You don’t say much at first, just letting your bones temporarily free themselves of the weight of the day, giving it all to Joel who happily carries it for as long as you need. A minute goes by before you finally shift your eyes elsewhere and part your lips to speak.

“What’re cooking?” You rest your head on his chest, peeking into the foggy lid where something simmers on low, a savory smell permeating the air making your stomach rumble.

“Stew. Got some chunks of beef in there, some baby potatoes, and carrots. Nice and soothing.” He explains, gently thumbing your shoulders lulling the excess stress away.

“It smells delicious.” You hum, reaching out to uncover it, getting a better look and smell.

Joel feels quite proud seeing the way you flutter your eyes shut, taking a deep whiff, like the aroma alone could heal your tiredness. It was the same recipe his late mother would whip up for him and Tommy when they were younger, and without fail it always left him feeling a little warmer inside after a long day. And now, it was the same kind of comfort he was trying to give to you. 

“It’s not quite done yet, though.” He says, keeping one arm locked around you as he reaches for the wooden spoon, stirring the contents and ensuring nothing is getting burnt to the bottom of the pot.

The rich brown broth is still a tad bit runny for his liking, needing more time to reduce, yet even then it still looks appetizing with all the hearty ingredients floating around becoming more tender by the minute.

He drags the bottom of the spoon along the pot’s edge, blowing the steam gently and offering you a small taste. You take a small sip of the broth, nodding your head in satisfaction as the flavors melt onto your tongue–watching as he samples the remainder while you cover the pot again. He hums at the taste, setting the spoon back onto a plate before speaking once more. 

“Should be finished by the time you get out of the shower.” 

His suggestion is not only considerate of the food he’s making, but your own wellbeing and schedule. By getting you into the shower now, it means getting you to bed earlier without needing to do much after. On Mondays, Joel knows you never really feel inclined to take any work home, just simply wanting to close out the day and get some rest to prepare yourself for the next day. 

Though it pains him to see you so blue and restless, it makes him feel a lot better to know you’re resting rather than forcing yourself to work through the night–because those nights will come later on in the week, he knows from experience. Without putting up a fight, you pull yourself away from his side, slowly stretching out your stiff limbs. 

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ve been wanting to scrub the day off, anyway.” You say with a groan, gripping your back and pushing your chest forward, hating yourself for not taking more breaks from your desk today. 

He leans over to peck your lips, rubbing the small of your back gently.

“Go baby.”

Before you can fully exit the kitchen, Sarah whistles, grabbing your attention promptly.

“Don’t fall asleep in there. You’re the only one I can trust to proofread my essay!”

She shoots you a pointed look then aiming it at her dad and finally back to you in a pleading manner.

He can only tsk, while you reassure her with a small laugh.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, honey.”

Joel had tried giving his own string of feedback earlier in the afternoon when Sarah asked, but all he could manage to find wrong was the incorrect date on the front page of her paper. 

Call it the dad in him, but he thought everything she did was perfect. No flaws to ever grace her, not even in the academic work she did. And while Sarah always appreciated having such a supportive dad her whole life, in times like these, it was when she really cherished having you around to step in and help her find what she could improve on–not necessarily to be perfect, but to progress and learn more from her previous tries.

So, Joel didn’t mind being a second-place proof-reader, at all. Not when you consistently speak so highly of his little girl and continue to encourage her to keep learning. And especially when Sarah feels comfortable enough to go to you for help, no matter how big or small. 

He knows that even when your plate's full with a hundred different things, you’d drop it all to make time for her, never making her feel like she’s adding to your responsibilities because you never saw Sarah as such to begin with. 

No matter if she wasn’t yours the same way she was Joel’s–you cared for the kid like she was your own. It’s what made coming home to her and Joel everyday extra special.

Twenty minutes later the island was set with three steaming bowls of stew over a fluffy bed of white rice. Sarah’s handwritten essay cast off to the side, free from stray splatters and potential spills. 

“Food’s already plated sweetheart.” Joel calls out when he hears your footsteps pad down the stairs, reentering the kitchen.

You sport an oversized t-shirt and a pair of sweats, quietly saying thank you to him before taking your seat, getting comfortable. 

Sarah hisses around a hot mouthful of food, standing up and going for the fridge. 

“Water or Coca-Cola?” She garbles between chews, fanning her mouth while you and Joel stifle your laughter. 

“Cola, please.” You say kindly, beginning to mix your food around with your spoon, getting every grain of rice coated with the velvety broth. 

“Water for me.” Joel answers. 

She takes her seat again after you all have your respective drinks, warning you guys that the food is really hot. You grin, rubbing her back as she sips her soda, Joel snickering at her for being too impatient to dig in. 

“So how was everyone’s day?” You raise your brows, blowing on your spoonful, and looking between the two of them.

Joel clears his throat, going first.

“Didn’t go on the work site today,” he takes half a bite, chews, then continues, “stayed in the office doin’ paperwork, WD40-ed a squeaky door. Solid, easy day.” He says casually. 

“Did the office ladies ogle while you did that?” Your lips quirk up into a smirk, peering over at Sarah who mirrors your expression with a giggle. 

“Last time I visited, I swear Martha was flirting with him.” She badgers, tilting her head at her dad all while you feigned a gasp, brooding in your chair.

“Martha’s sixty-one with a husband and three adult children.” Joel deadpans between the two of you, but it doesn’t seem to shake the devious grins on your faces.

He won’t say it, but he doesn’t mind, even when the teasing is at his expense. Anything to see you smile on Monday makes him happy, even the accusations that the office ladies who he considers his elders find him attractive. 

“She’s also a woman with desires, Joel.” You argue, going to poke at his cheek as he cringes inwardly.

“You know most women her age often have more elaborate fantasies and higher sex drives than women in their thirties.” You pester on, taking another bite of your food while his cheeks go bright red. 

Sarah cuts in dramatically, slapping her palms down on the granite countertop, drilling in on the joke. 

“Oh my God, I just learned about that in my health guidance class!”

Laughter swiftly fills the kitchen as you and Sarah throw your heads back and Joel can’t help but shake his head in amusement at the two of you. He likes to think that he wields the magic wand of getting you through the week, but the truth is, it really is a team effort between him and Sarah, giving you a reason to smile and laugh as hard as you were now. 

When your combined laughter finally dies down, you glance over at her in curiosity, wondering how the high school freshman was holding up. 

“Tell us about your day, Sarah.” You ask, going back to enjoying your home-cooked meal.

She chews quickly as if she remembers something intriguing she just has to tell you and her dad.

“Jessica and Ben from third period English broke up last weekend, and now it’s like, super awkward. The class is basically split into two sides, and even Mrs. Click can sense something is wrong.” She spills without missing a beat. 

“Why’d they break up?” Joel raises a brow, taking a sip of his water. 

“Apparently Ben went out to the movies with Jessa from fourth period biology, and even though he says he’s just friends with her, Jessica doesn’t buy it.”

“Wait,” you tip your head up suddenly perplexed, “So Ben’s ex-girlfriend’s name is Jessica and the girl he decided to ‘cheat’ with is named Jessa?”

She nods totally aware of the absurdity of it all, before telling you two the kicker. 

“And they both have blonde hair and green eyes.”

Joel snorts disapprovingly, while you purse your lips and roll your eyes.

“Yeah, he definitely has a type.” He mutters. 

“Totally! But the worst part is Mrs. Click said that if the class doesn’t start getting on the same page she’s gonna get the counselor in to do a big talk for a whole period.” She groans with a roll of her eyes. 

The three of you continue dinner, entertained by the rest of Sarah’s recollection of her day, which is hands down way more interesting than you and Joel’s combined. 

He’s thankful for her willingness to share parts of her life that many teens her age would much rather keep to themselves. And he always thought there’d be a time where she’d brush him off and barely give him the time of day, but it seems quite the opposite–her never failing to include you and him in her life, even when you two don’t always ‘get’ the newest teenage fads. 

When you all finish eating, Sarah helps bring the dirty dishes over to the sink where he begins to scrape the scraps into the garbage bin. He tells you to sit back down when you offer to help, not wanting you to exhaust yourself more than you already were. 

“I think I’m gonna head up early. I wanna read before bed.” Sarah says, rinsing her hands under the warm water. 

“Sounds good, sweetheart.” Joel nods, leaning into her as she hugs at his side saying goodnight. 

“I’ll look over your paper and leave it here for you okay?” You reach over across the island, just as she comes over to you. 

“You’re the bestest,” she hugs you tightly, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “and make sure you get some sleep too.” She reminds you, privy to the workload you carry on your shoulders too. 

“I’ll go to bed as soon as your dad finishes up.” You promise, kissing her temple sweetly, so grateful for her thoughtfulness that she so undeniably got from her father.

Joel steals glances at you every so often as runs the dishes through the stream of water before loading them into the dishwasher. You were concentrated, mouthing the words on the paper, pausing every so often to squiggle notes in the margins before flipping through the rest of the pages. 

By the time he starts the washer and finishes wiping down the counters, he’s peering behind you, watching as you wrap up your last set of notes on the final page, giving her citations a quick skim to make sure they were all formatted correctly to which they were. 

“How’d she do?” He rubs your shoulders tenderly, before you tip your head back to look at him upside down while he grins, fingertips moving to rub at your cheeks instead. 

“Phenomenal as per usual, but she just needs to clarify some sentences to make it stronger, then she’s good to go.” You explain, shutting your eyes just briefly, only to open them to the sight of him bending down, connecting your lips. 

His are tender and warm against yours, sweeping just softly as you kiss back, feeling the dull scratch of his stubble graze across your skin as you both smile into each other like tired idiots, desperately needing sleep. 

He pulls away just to tilt your head back up, offering you a hand as you stand from the chair.

“Thanks for lookin’ over it even though I know you’re tired.” He murmurs, lacing his fingers through yours, standing still in the amber light of the kitchen.  

You shake your head at his small hint of remorse, the task actually doing more to help you forget about the real cause of your tiredness, if anything at all.

“Anything to get my mind off school and the internship helps a lot.” You tell him, and he nods understandingly, silently slinging his arm around your waist as you two begin shutting off the lights and making your way up the stairs quietly. 

“Do you wanna talk about your day?” He asks casually, always reminding you that you never had to if you didn’t want to revisit it. 

Tonight, you shake your head, sighing softly. “Not really.”

He nods, fingers kneading into your side sympathetically, just doing what he can to help you know he’s here for you. 

“S’alright baby, I got you.” He opens the bedroom door, walking you to the bathroom where you two brush your teeth in silence. 

His eyes stayed glued to your reflection in the mirror, watching the way your eyes begin to droop heavily with every blink now turning into a longer pause. The hand holding your electric toothbrush becomes limp, just holding it weakly and letting the brush do all the work. When the cycle finishes, he gently steals it from your hands, running it under the water and encouraging you to rinse your mouth just for a few seconds. 

He eventually steers you back into the bedroom, guiding you towards your side of the bed where he pulls back the covers, letting you fall onto the mattress like deadweight. He pulls the covers up a little higher over your collarbones, switching on the bedside lamp so that you can fall asleep easily, though it doesn’t look like you need the extra help. 

“I’ll be out in a bit.” He whispers, placing a kiss to your forehead, but to his surprise, you squirm under the overs, brows furrowing as you mumble.  

“Don’t be long, I want cuddles.”

He grunts with a shake of his head, not knowing how you were still able to form words after all that, but he pressed another kiss this time on your lips. 

“I promise darlin’.” 

He returns from the bathroom fifteen minutes later to find you snoring quietly. Soft breaths of air leaving your mouth, chest rising and falling, and your limbs finally resting like they’ve craved for. 

He rounded over to your side to shut off the lamp, now completely eclipsing the room. His eyes adjust to the dark, walking back over to his side and letting his back meet the comfort of the mattress. Like clock-work he turned his body towards you, snaking his arms around your body and pulling you close before he finally shut his eyes.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He murmurs, burying his face in your hair.“I love you.” 

Tuesday and Wednesday are equally draining as Monday’s, but the pace seems to quicken with the days bleeding into one another and your schedule getting busier. You share a few texts when you can throughout the day, checking in on how the new renovation is going on his end, and he asks about the final internship project on yours.  

The next time his phone buzzes, it’s not a text but a FaceTime call coming from you. His fingers click the green button, and he flashes a small smile, waiting for the screen to connect. 

“Hey baby.” He greets when finally graced with a grainy video of you adjusting your earbuds. 

“Hi,” you wave, gazing down at your phone just briefly before looking back up at what’s in front of you. “Sorry I’m walking to a coffee shop right now.” You say, keeping the phone at a low angle.

“Goin’ to get some late lunch?” He suspects, noting the two hours that have gone by since he had his own—leftover stew from two days ago.

“Yeah, I’m starving. I barely had time for breakfast.” You let out a small groan, pulling open a glass door as he suddenly hears faint jazz music and chatter in the background. 

Joel leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches you tap a finger on your chin as you look over the menu. 

“And what is it you’re always tellin’ me about never leaving’ the house on an empty stomach?” He teases while you roll your eyes playfully, whispering for him to ‘shut up.’

You finally seem to decide what you want, stepping up to the counter as you greet the cashier with a smile and begin ordering. 

“Yeah, can I do a medium iced vanilla latte with an extra shot of espresso?”

Joel would chastise you for consuming enough caffeine to induce a heart attack, but you were clearly in the working groove, just needing a little something extra to get you over.

He hears you order two more items: a ham and cheese croissant and a chocolate chip cookie. You thank the cashier, moving off to find a seat while you wait. Setting your bag down, you finally set the camera upright where he can see all of you now.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not disturbing any office time.” You say, noticing that he isn’t in fact taking his usual break from the comfort of his truck, but in his office with his phone propped against what you assume is his computer monitor.

He shakes his head, turning the camera a little to show you what he was doing before you called. 

“Not at all, sweetheart. Just finished up sendin’ the invoice to the new clients.”

“All done with the worksite today?” You assume, and he nods, turning the camera back to himself and catching you up on his day so far. 

“Just needed to check on the concrete pour from yesterday and get some of the electrical started. Headin’ to pick Sarah up from school…” he pauses, looking down at his watch, making a note of the time, “in about an hour, then take her to practice.”

Wednesdays were early after school pickups and late afternoon practices, ones that Joel never missed no matter how tied up he was at work. 

You pouted deeply, propping your chin up on your fist, “Wish I could get out early too, but the stupid deadline got moved up and I really want to finish this before—”

“Baby, s’okay,” he cuts in with a deep chuckle, “Sarah understands how busy you are. I understand. You’re nearly done, sweetheart, and when you are we know you’ll be there.”

He catches you on one too many occasions beating yourself up for feeling as if you’re missing out on their lives. But the truth is Joel doesn’t want you spreading yourself out thinner than you already are, especially when you’re juggling more than he is. He doesn’t say it out loud though, he never does, not when he knows you’d defend his honor about being a full time present dad all while running an independent contractor business with no outside partners–which you find way more difficult than grad school and an internship. 

He disagrees with your argument by a long shot, but he’s content with keeping it to himself, knowing deep down in his heart you’re the most hard-working person he’d ever met, and a selfless one at that. 

“Thanks, babe.” You smile sincerely, in awe of how easily he can soothe your worries without feeling like pity, but understanding. 

You two chatted for a few more minutes, catching him up on what you did in the office today and the free time you had to work on some course assignments before your order was called out. 

“I’m gonna head back to the office now, but I’ll text you when I’m free. I might be home later than usual. Just trying to squeeze in as much work as I can today.” You let him know, not wanting him to worry too much if you didn’t get home at your usual time. 

He nods, drawing the phone close to his face, as if he’s trying to bring you closer to him too. “Sounds good sweetheart, I love you.”

“Love you, too.” You grinned, pursing your lips together, giggling as he returned the gesture with a wet smooth and then the line disconnected. 

As he anticipated, you did get home later than usual. Sarah was already fast asleep, but not without reminding him to stay up and wait for you to get home before he tucked in. Without a doubt, he was going to do so, never sleeping well, or at all without knowing you got home safe and sound.

He was sitting on the couch freshly showered and his belly full of Chinese takeout, by the time you pulled into the driveway. He greeted you at the door, pecking your lips and taking your bags, telling you to head to the living room where dinner was waiting. 

There was a steaming plate of fried rice and an array of leftover entrees and side dishes beside a cold glass of water. Even though you had called him to let him know you were on the way and not that hungry, he still made the effort to lay it out for you, just in case you had a change of appetite.

And of course you did with such a long day you had. 

He sat with you on the couch, your legs thrown over his thighs as you forked through the plate on your lap telling him about the drive home. There was a minor accident on the highway, leaving one lane closed and traffic beginning to pile up. You would have been home twenty minutes earlier had it not been for the jam, but Joel still murmurs that he’s happy you got home safe.

He tells you about early pick up and Sarah’s practice, while occasionally reaching over to spoon more food onto your plate as you eat, knowing you didn’t have much since your late lunch FaceTime call. 

The hour ticks on late, and he yawns deeply from time to time, trying to get himself to stay up even when you tell him he can head up to bed before you. Sarah’s practice also had run a little overtime, leaving Joel too tired to cook something at home by the time they left the field, and so takeout it was. 

“I’ll be up in a bit,” you promise him between bites, your foot rubbing against his thigh hoping he would sway. “I just need to log in to do some forum replies and start the next chapter reading.”

“How long is ‘a bit’?” He let out a groan, eyes crinkling shut and yawning once more. 

You wiggle your shoulders, still chewing, “Like an hour tops.”

“They due tomorrow?” He assumes, noting that you never stay up this late unless you really have to.

“Just the replies,” you reply, swallowing, “but if I can at least get half the chapter reading done, it’ll help for the lecture.”

He gives you a slow but hesitant nod, shifting your legs off his lap and onto the cushions as he stands up. 

“Just leave the dishes in the sink. I’ll load them in the washer tomorrow before I head out.” He mumbles, bending down to peck your lips. 

“Okay.” You nod, watching as he walks up the stairs, leaving you to work in silence for a while. 

He manages a little more than an hour of rest until his body wakes up on its own after feeling you were nowhere to be found when he shifted, trying to cuddle you. If his intuition served him right, you were passed out on the couch with your laptop nearly falling off onto the ground at this point. 

He threw off the covers, making his way down the stairs groggily, doing his best to stay quiet and not wake Sarah. And just as he suspected there you were completely passed out. 

“Sweetheart,” he shook your shoulders gently, seizing your laptop before it could topple over and placing it on the coffee table.

You stirred slightly at the sudden touch, pinching your eyes and finally opening them.

“W-what time is it?” You croaked, rubbing your eyes and causing your mascara to smudge around your skin. 

“Almost 1:30.” He squints at the clock on the wall then back down to you. 

“Already?” You whine, covering your face with your hands, trying to get yourself a little more awake but failing.

He helps you sit up straight before gesturing to your laptop.

“Is your work all saved? Goin’ to shut it and charge it for you.” 

You nod your head wordlessly, watching as he sifts through your work bag, pulling out a long charger and plugging it into the wall, connecting the other side to your laptop as it makes a soft ding and he shuts it gently.

“Let’s get you to bed.” He says, holding his arm out to you as you stand up and lean into his side, his elbow knocking the light switch off. 

“I still have to shower.” You whisper, slowly walking up the stairs. 

“Just be quick.” He tells you, shutting off the stairwell light, and closing your bedroom door.

You agree wordlessly, heading towards the bathroom while he rifles through the drawers grabbing you a clean pair of underwear and an oversized t-shirt leaving it on the counter for you. He slips back into bed, eyes shutting as he hears the water run. It’s a few minutes before it finally shuts off, and the slide of the glass shower door tells him you’re all done. A few minutes pass, and he feels the bed shift with you settling beside him. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, enclosing your arms around his body and placing a delicate kiss to his bare shoulder. 

He makes a disapproving low sound, drawing his fingers up to yours where they rest on his sternum, clasping them together. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry for baby…go to sleep.” He mumbles tiredly. 

You shuffle as close as you can get, brushing your lips against his skin once more before your breaths begin to fall against his spine, the two of you lulled to sleep, and this time without Joel missing you beside him.  

On Thursday, Joel feels like he’s counting down the seconds to midnight just so he can get closer to his favorite day of the week. But in some ways, he feels like Thursdays offer a head start to that day, especially when his phone erupts with messages coming from a group chat Sarah has named Family. 

Your message comes in first. 

‘Just remembered we have beef patties in the freezer. Want burgers for dinner tonight?’

Sarah replies almost instantly, ‘Sure. Can we have sweet potato fries too?”

‘Yeah, I’ll grab some otw home. Need anything else?’ You add. 

Joel’s fingers type something out, a stupid self-indulgent smirk spreading over his features as he stares down at his phone like a skittish teenager texting their crush.

‘Your pretty face’ he hits send without a second thought prompting Sarah to flood the chat with a slew of eye-rolling emojis.

Then, ‘Really dad? Text her privately. Gosh!!!!’ He can practically hear her embarrassment seeping through the messages. 

Before he can send back his own string of pixelated emoticons, his screen lights up with a picture of you as an incoming call rings. He picks up, pulling off a bright yellow hard hat and pressing the phone to his ear.  

“Are you trying to gross your daughter out or what?” You scold him jokingly, and he swears he can picture the smitten look on your face.  

“She’ll live.” Joel chuckles, eyes fleeting around the site where his brother and few other guys work on prepping the next concrete pour some feet away. 

“So you’re gettin’ off early today, huh?” He asks, pleased that you don’t have to stay back as late as you have been the last few days.

The long days you have been pulling have put a dent in your usual sleep schedule and it certainly hasn’t been easy on your body or mind, especially when working uncomfortably at a desk for hours at a time, barely getting to eat a proper filling meal. Today is one of those lucky Thursday’s and he can only hope for more of them, as you near the end of your semester and things are beginning to fizzle out into a manageable calm. 

“Yup.” You quip eagerly.

He can hear some rustling in the background, zippers pulling shut and the fabric of your bag crinkling as you pack away your things.

“I’m just about finished with the project, and all I have to do is look over it one more time before I send it over. And I can do all of it from home.” You inform him, slinging your bag over your shoulder and swiping your keys off your desk, quietly saying your goodbyes to a few of your colleagues. 

He feels slightly relieved to hear the day has been kinder to you, despite the obvious obligations you still have yet to fulfill and get off your plate. Nevertheless, the light at the end of the tunnel is closer than you think. 

“I’m proud of you, darlin’,” he praises warmly, already making plans to grab you a little something before he gets home.

“Couldn’t have done it without you.” You reply gratefully before continuing with a short laugh, “But seriously, do you need anything else from the store?” 

He chuckles, thinking for a moment, trying to remember what he had in the fridge. “Grab some sesame buns and a red onion.”

“And my pretty face, right?” You tease, and he hears your car door open and shut. 

He doesn’t miss a single beat, buzzing out something soft and low. 

“Pretty sure they don’t sell ones like yours there…too special, too already mine.”

From across the site, Tommy shouts something in the distance, badgering Joel about getting off his phone and joining the rest of the crew. He grumbles, shouting something back at him as you start up your car and giggle at their banter. 

“Go back to work flirt.” You chastise, pulling his attention away from his younger brother. 

“Sorry about him,” Joel sighs apologetically, though you think it’s cute they still poke fun at each other now that they’re older. “Drive safely, sweetheart.” 

“I will, baby.”

By the time his truck pulls up in the driveway later that afternoon, your car is already parked in its usual spot. He took a little longer to get home, stopping by the grocery store to pick up a bouquet and your favorite candy bar as a small congratulations for getting one step closer to finishing up the big project. 

“I’m home!” He announces, undoing the laces of his boots and setting them aside, throwing his keys beside yours.

“We’re out here!” Sarah clamors from the backyard.

He stops a few feet away from where you two don’t notice him, allowing himself to revel in the sight of his two favorite girls. You both stood in front of the deck grill, changed out of your usual work and school attire, and your hair pulled out of your faces. Sarah waved an aluminum pan in the air, gently fending off any flies, meanwhile you stood with one hand on your hip, the other gripping a metal spatula, staring intently at the grill. 

He doesn’t expect to see you two starting without him, but he can’t complain knowing there was no better sight to come to than this, especially on the rare occasions that it’s you home before him. 

“You started without me?” He whistles, hiding the goodies behind his back as steps outside to join you both. 

Sarah manages to catch a glimpse of the flower petals, nodding her head when he mouths at her to ‘not say anything’ without you catching it. She hovers the pan behind his back, helping keep the gift hidden.    

“I just put them on a few minutes ago. Sarah had to help me watch a YouTube tutorial on how to get the grill started.” You met his lips in a quick peck before you turned your attention back to the grill, hoping it wasn’t burning. 

He took notice of the charcoal bag resting on the ground, ripped open and slightly lopsided as you and Sarah struggled to lift and pour the heavy thing into the firebox. It had finally set in that you had been aiming to get dinner done before he arrived home. He had been pulling a lot of your weight lately, always making sure you came home to a warm and cozy dinner no matter how tired he was, and you wanted to attempt to at least try to do the same for him today. 

Sarah points at you, smacking her dad on the shoulder gently.

“She was the brave one and actually lit it up. I was kinda scared but she did it just like how you always do.” 

You grin, letting your back fall against his chest, peering up at him.

“Yeah, and I’m coming for your title as grill master.” 

Joel chuckles, shaking his head as he finally pulls his arm from behind him, presenting you with the colorful arrangement and the candy bar he managed to lay in the center. 

“Reckon these are yours, grill master.” He hums, letting you take hold of the stems, trading you for the spatula instead. 

You stare down at them in appreciation, shaking your head up at him with a shy smile. “You didn’t have to.” 

He shrugs, leaning over to kiss your forehead. “I wanted to.” 

Finally, Sarah laughs, bonking her dad’s head with the pan, and making grabby hands at the arrangement, wanting to see which kinds of flowers he picked this time. You handed it over, trading her for the pan as she took in every kind of flower. 

“I’ll leave you lovebirds alone,” she sings, making the two of you laugh.

“And I’ll get started on the fries.” She tosses the candy bar towards you, skipping into the house, but not before looking over her shoulder and giving her dad a thumbs up for his choice of bouquet.

“Thank you.” You say quietly, ripping open the treat already enjoying a bite.

He laughs, shaking his head telling you it was nothing.

“So how was pick up?” He adds curiously, silently thanking you for grabbing Sarah from school today.

“Good! I surprised her with a milkshake and donut from the cafe I went to yesterday, and she loved it.” You held the bar out for him to take a bite.

“No carpoolin’?” He chews, sliding the spatula under the patties checking on the char.

“Not today, but some of her friends stopped by to say ‘hi’ to me.” You reveal a little proudly, hoping Sarah doesn’t hear you pathetically brag about how neat it was that she brought you up to her friends enough that they wanted to meet you. 

“Hmm, is that right?” He nudges your side with his elbow, teasing just slightly at your clear giddiness.

“Apparently, they’ve been dying to meet Mr. Miller’s cool, pretty, and super smart girlfriend.” You repeated in the same inflection Sarah had introduced you to them through the passenger window. 

He smiles at the thought, knowing plenty of his daughter’s friends often ask him about you too when it was his day for carpooling. He suspected that next week he’d probably have to deal with a bunch of teenage girls asking him how he managed to luck out with someone like you, but he says it would be pretty worth it. 

“Can’t say that I haven’t bragged about you a few times either.” He grins, flipping the patties as you giggle beside him.

“It was definitely the right pick-me-up for today.” You tiptoe, kissing his cheek sweetly.

Dinner is eaten outside, with the three of you watching the sunset and talking about the plans for tomorrow. Sarah doesn’t need a ride home because it’s a home game, so you and Joel agree to meet there. Your last lecture of the day ends right when her game starts, so you warn her that you’ll be a little late, but she assures you she’ll save her scoring drive when you turn up. 

Joel finds that as the week comes to a close, you open up a little more about your day, finding small parts of it that don’t seem draining to revisit. Sarah asks about the office you intern at and if they’ve fixed the air conditioning that went out last week. Joel grins proudly when he hears that you were this close to having him stop by and take a look at it himself, before they actually got someone to come and get it up and running again.

With Sarah being a freshman in high school, she has been a little more interested in taking a look at her different options after graduation. You attend a university just a half hour away from the house, and they offer an array of concentrations. You offer to bring her on campus one of these days to show her around and maybe talk to some friends of yours in different degree paths just so she can get a feel of what is out there. 

Joel can’t help but feel a little sad that she’s growing up so fast, but at the same time he’s thankful to know you were always there to help her through anything, especially with these sorts of things that he didn’t have much knowledge in. 

By the time your bellies are full, Joel picks up the dirty dishes, taking them into the kitchen where you trail behind holding a stack of watered down glasses.

“Go rest up kiddo, you’ve got a big day tomorrow.” He calls out to Sarah who hovers around the kitchen about to jump in and help you two clean up.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” She asks, looking over at you who nods reassuring her that she can go rest up. 

“I don’t have much work to do tonight, so I can help out. Thanks again, sweetheart.” 

She hugs you both goodnight, making a pit-stop in the garage to grab her cleats and kneepads to pack into her duffle bag for tomorrow, leaving you and Joel in the kitchen. You are in charge of dishes tonight and the countertops, while Joel goes back outside cleaning off the grill and throwing out the used charcoal.

By the time the kitchen is nice and tidy, he meets you in the living room where you lounge on the couch, mindlessly scrolling on your phone for a quick break.

“You goin’ to work down here tonight?” He asks, flopping beside you, draping his arms around your thighs and laying his head on your hips.

You sigh heavily, fingers running through his hair. “I don’t know. I kinda wanna put it off, if I’m being honest.”

He looks up at you, lifting his brows. “When’s the deadline again?”

He recalled just a few days ago that you said the project’s due date got pushed closer than expected, but you were already practically done with it.

“Next week.” You answer.

“And you just gotta look through it and send it in, right?”

You hum in agreement, beginning to feel his fingers dig into your thighs with a gentle squeeze.

“I say you get it out of the way tonight and save yourself the extra stress next week.” 

“You’re so right.” You murmur, pulling your hands away to rub at your cheeks, trying to find the sliver of energy left in you to do it.

Joel had no problem with letting you put it off if you really wanted to, but he knew you just needed an extra push. 

“What if you work from bed?” he suggests, hands running up your thighs and over your hips. “We’ll go have a nice hot shower, and I’ll stay up with you until you’re finished.” 

There had been no space in the week for you and Joel to have some proper alone time. And it wasn’t that the kisses and small gestures weren’t enough—Joel knew just how much it all meant to you, how it kept you grounded throughout the busy week—but there was a need to feel his hands more than just the touch of him pulling you closer in bed when you two were half asleep. 

“You sure?” You ask, weary of his own exhaustion that doesn’t seem to ever phase him nor get in the way of him being there for you.

He nods, reaching up for your hands and bringing your knuckles towards his lips. 

“Positive, sweetheart.” 

The shower is steamy just how you like it, and his hands glide over the slopes and dips of your body, taking the time to feel you the way he’s been missing—the way you’ve been needing. Your hands do the same to his architecture, running down his arms and over his chest, murmuring sweet words of thanks as he massages your scalp and presses scattered kisses where he can. There’s nothing more to it than tenderness, nothing sexual or heated, just intimacy in the simplest form as water cascades the two of you.

He dries the two of you down after using up all the hot water, staying glued to your side as he watches you complete your night-time routine in front of the foggy mirror. He pulls on a pair of boxers before plucking one of his faded t-shirts, guiding it over your frame before entering the bedroom. 

“I should be done in less than an hour.” You settle beside him against the headboard with your laptop in hand. 

He swipes his reading glasses and a book off his bedside table. “Take your time darlin’, I’ll be right here.” 

He looks over at you after every few pages, watching as you scroll through the screen, mouthing words as you re-read and type on your keyboard, making a few edits here and there. When he hears you let out a deep breath, raking your fingers through your damp hair, he sets his book down, giving you his full attention.

“I’m pretty sure this is good to go.” You whisper.

“Yeah?” He leans over, closing the space between you both to take a peek at your screen. Just a month and a half prior, it was a blank slate, so much planning and hours you had spent to make it what it was now.

“I don’t know why I’m so nervous about submitting it.” You bite down on your lip, scrolling through it once more, just trying to make sure everything was in its rightful place. 

Above the covers, his hand squeezes your thigh encouragingly. “It’s normal to feel nervous baby, you’ve been workin’ on it for a while now.” 

“Want me to give it a look?” He suggests, sitting up a little straight offering you to pass it over to him. 

You nod with a faint smile, placing it on his lap.

“You don’t have to read the whole thing, but could you just make sure it makes sense?”

“‘Course I can.” He nods, bringing the screen closer to his aging eyes.

He reads to himself quietly, nodding his head every so often, prompting you to scroll to the next page for him–Joel afraid that he may accidentally click something and mess up all your hard work.

“Sweetheart, it’s perfect.” He removes his glasses, glancing over at you with a proud expression. 

You let out a breath of relief, kindly thanking him as you take the laptop back into your lap, opening up your mailbox and typing out a quick email to your supervisor. He watches as you attach the final link, telling them to reach out if they have any questions or concerns before finally pressing send.

He can see the visible relief that washes over you the second you close your laptop and set it aside. The weight that falls from your shoulders and the tug of your lips rising into a content smile for getting it out of the way.

“God that felt good.” You admit, making him laugh, as he pulls you closer, pressing kisses to your temple and your cheeks, wherever he can feel you.

“Rest now, baby.” He murmurs, guiding your cheek into the crook of his neck, feeling your soft breaths hit his skin.

His eyes watch you, ears drawing in on the sounds of your gentle snores, feeling the way your limbs tangle with his on their own accord. He doesn’t need a clock to know the hour, but just by the feel of it alone, he knows Friday is almost here.

Friday hits you when you need it most. Your schedule is a little less hectic with the claws of responsibility loosening its grips on you and giving you the chance to leave home later than usual. 

Joel sees the color and life seep back into your skin, from the moment he wakes with you still asleep at his side, the sun shining down on your skin and greeting you for the day ahead. Breakfast is a messy and rushed affair enjoyed between the three of you. Sarah scrambles to find her favorite pair of jeans while you and him whip up some pancakes and coffee. 

You eat fairly quickly, remembering you had a study group to meet up with before your first lecture of the day. You kiss Sarah’s cheek and wish her good luck on her game, promising you would be there as soon as possible–she hums thankfully, chewing and mumbling past the syrup-soaked pancakes in her mouth.

And of course you linger a little when you kiss Joel goodbye, reminding him to have a safe day at work and text you when he has the chance to. He watches from the front door as you load up into your car, rolling down your windows to wave one last time before you drive off. 

When lunch rolls around, he’s smiling down at his phone. 

Sarah sent in a picture of her final essay with a big red A+ at the top of the page. You flood the chat with a bunch of hearts and congratulations, even sending a selfie of you grinning from ear to ear with a thumbs up. 

From the background, he can make out the shelves of books and a few tables behind you where bystanders look locked in on their laptops and overpriced textbooks. You were most likely on a quick break between classes, squeezing in some extra studying and clearly a text chain. 

‘Proud of you, baby girl’ He sends first followed by more hearts and thumbs up.

Then, replying to your picture he types, ‘Lookin’ pretty sweetheart’

You send in a few smiley emojis which can hardly depict the way you find yourself actually blushing down at your phone in the half empty library where your peers probably think you’re crazy–but you don’t find it in yourself to care, not today at least. 

And now, this time Sarah isn’t badgering him for being in love, just liking the picture of you and commenting about how he was obsessed. Yes, he was guilty, and there was nothing anyone could do about that fact. 

The workday and the aches in his muscles fade into the bygone as he sits on the bleachers. The late afternoon breeze grazes his exposed arms, a pleasant warmth of the sun beating down as the team huddles on the sideline getting ready for the game. You had called just a while earlier to let him know you were leaving campus and heading their way, and he didn’t miss the chance to let you know Sarah had scored a goal during their warm-up. 

The girls finally shouted something in unison, clapping excitedly as they ran out onto the field getting in their positions before the whistle blew and the game began. Joel kept his eyes zeroed in on Sarah, watching her sprint across the field, waving her hands in the air to her teammates, trying to get an opening. 

But it wasn’t too long before he heard a familiar voice barreling through the air as you walked up the bleachers with a bunch of flowers in hand–your post-game gift to her after every game no matter win or loss. 

“Go, Sarah!” You shout, barely acknowledging the steps and the fact that you almost missed one with your gaze focused on the game instead. 

Joel immediately stands, hands reaching out to grab you by the shoulders.

“Jesus baby, you wanna try not crackin’ your skull open before the game ends?” He jokes, helping you take a seat beside him. 

“She’s so fast!” You exclaim, finally turning to kiss his lips quickly, “Did they just start?”

He nods, sliding his arm across your shoulders. “How was everythin’ today?” 

You rest your head on his shoulder, watching intently. “Not so bad, actually. My lectures went well, and I got some work done for next week.”

He gives you a warm squeeze, thumbs tracing circles over your arm. “Good, cause I wanna enjoy the weekend with my girls.” 

“Trust me, it’s going to be the best—”

Your mouth shuts mid-sentence, elbows bracing on your knees as your eyes widen at the sight. 

Sarah had managed to steal the ball, flying down the field like she magically grew wings. Her legs stride briskly, keeping the ball close to her foot as she made a beeline for the net. Her foot swung with full force, driving it right into the goal. 

You and Joel were on your feet, cheers erupting in the air as you two screamed and clapped. 

“Let’s go, baby girl!” 

“Woo-hoo, Sarah!”  

She finds you two in the crowd of cheering families and students, smiling from ear to ear and pointing at you both like you’re her biggest fans—and of course you and Joel are and always would be. She catches the way you two blow her kisses before high-fiving each other, laughing so proudly, and making it the most memorable goal in her book. 

The game drags on with a good back and forth between the two teams, but ultimately finishes with Sarah’s winning on their home turf. You and Joel step down the bleachers, watching in admiration as she celebrates with her team, giving out hugs and praises to everyone before she comes jogging over with open arms, embracing you two tightly.

“We’re so proud of you, baby girl.” Joel kisses her sweaty temple, holding onto her a little tighter. 

“You killed it, honey.” You add, placing the flowers in her arms, watching as she smiles appreciatively. It’s tradition and a reminder to her that no matter the outcome, to always be proud of herself and that she always had you two in her corner to cheer her on.

“Today’s like the best Friday ever! I got an A+ on my paper and scored, and won!” She hoots, jumping like the luckiest girl in the world, making you guys laugh. 

“Are you gonna celebrate with the team tonight?” You reach over to push her damp hair away from her forehead and cheeks, tucking it behind her ears. 

She scoffs, waving off a few of her teammates who were already beginning to exit the field, before looking at you with a sneaky grin. 

“And miss out on our Friday pizza party? Absolutely not.” 

That’s all you need to hear as you drape your arms around her shoulders, the two of you walking to your car as Joel trails behind carrying her school bag and her duffle. 

“Go on and head home. I’ll go pick up the pizzas and meet you there.” He says, gesturing to you to unlock your door. 

You reach into your purse, pressing down on the key fob. 

“Remember our order, right?”

He shoots you a look, like he could ever forget the never-changing order that you two consistently request every week. 

“One supreme pizza with extra bell peppers and one cheese pizza.”

“And…” You and Sarah say in unison, the word dragging out as he sighs, pretending to be annoyed. 

“A brownie pie with extra chocolate chips.” He sighs while you two smile and give him a nod of approval. 

“Don’t forget the parmesan packets!” Sarah calls out, rounding your car and getting into the passenger seat.

You step closer to him, tiptoeing and brushing your lips over his. “I’ll see you at home.”

“See you there.” He kisses back, giving your bum a small tap before you push him away towards his truck.

He arrives a half-hour later, finding you two changed into pajamas and lounging on the couch, flicking through one of the many streaming services Sarah’s has convinced him to buy, trying to decide what to watch.

You look over when you hear the front door shut, waving him over. 

“Babe, did you know your daughter has never seen Dirty Dancing?” You stand, grabbing the paper bag from around his wrists, while he places the boxes of pizza on the coffee table. 

He snorts, glancing up at Sarah who shrugs her shoulders unknowingly. “I’m surprised you haven’t watched it at any of the sleepovers you’ve been to.”

“Dad, we don’t watch 80s movies. We talk about social media and boys and—”

“Boys?” he repeats incredulously as if it were a sacred word that she had never uttered until now. 

“Oh God.” She rolls her eyes, covering her face while he stares, still completely astounded–he’s dramatic, he knows, but seeing her act a little embarrassed at him makes him laugh inside. 

You shake your head at the two, nudge his shoulder for him to knock it off Sarah’s sake. “Go shower! We’ll wait for you.”

“This conversation isn’t over, alright?” He barks jokingly, adding a stern point of his finger, all while Sarah groans, waving him off, while you fail to stifle your laughter.

Joel takes less than 20 minutes to shower, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and a faded shirt as he makes his way down the stairs. You two scroll on your phones, showing funny videos to each other to pass the time.

“There you are.” You smile, tossing your phone to the side as you scoot over and pat the empty space.

“Surprised you two haven’t ransacked the food yet.” He half jokes, plopping down between the two of you. “What are we watchin’?”

“Dirty Dancing.” Sarah answers, pressing play on the remote and glancing over her dad as she gestures to you. She says I need to be aware of the cultural impact of Patrick Swayze.”

“You’re in for the time of your life, kid.” Joel smirks, nudging your side while you giggle, and Sarah can do nothing but raise her brows in confusion, not quite getting the reference just yet. 

But alas, an hour and fifty minutes later, the movie had finally wrapped up after a whole lot of you and Sarah squealing, drooling over Mister Swayze himself and occasionally using the sleeves of Joel’s t-shirt to wipe your teary eyes. 

Anyone else would probably ditch the movie all together, but Joel wouldn’t be anywhere else. In truth, he probably paid attention to less than half of the movie, too busy smiling at the two of you and reveling in your combined laughter throughout the whole thing. 

And it’s no different now that Sarah has decided to put on what she argued was the best song from the movie. 

“Cause I’ve had the time of my life…” She lifts the TV remote up to her lips, singing along passionately. 

Joel can’t help but chuckle as you join in, but only this time dramatically perching up beside him as you hold his face in your hands. 

“And I owe it all to you…” you sing, drawing out the words just until Joel can’t help himself. 

He closes the space and presses his lips to yours in a wet smooch that leaves you squealing and giggling against him, all while Sarah groans out an ‘ewww’ and manages to pull you away from him. 

“Dad, do we still have that tub of ice cream?” She asks, tugging you along to the kitchen with her. 

“Pretty sure we haven’t touched it since last Friday’s movie night.” He replies, trailing behind you two, watching as you pull open the freezer and Sarah goes to retrieve two spoons. 

You let out squeal when you find the tub, the two of you immediately digging in as if you didn’t ransack the entire pizza pies throughout the entire movie. But all Joel can do is smile, too consumed with the joy he feels from watching you two have this much fun together without worrying about what next week will bring.

He lingers, just watching as he always does, enjoying every second of his favorite sight like it’s the true movie he doesn’t want to miss. He doesn’t patronize you or Sarah for leaving the freezer door propped wide open, thawing everything out. But he just watches with immense happiness. 

The refrigerator light casts a glow across your smiley faces. You stand tall, leaning your head against hers where she lays her cheek on your shoulder. There’s nothing but love and care between the two of you–pieces of each other’s hearts that neither of you knew were missing until you found each other. 

Joel feels it so deeply in his bones, the fact that he’s gotten lucky two times in his life. The day Sarah was born and the day he met you. Nothing could beat what he had, and despite even the struggles he had gone through before all of this–he wouldn’t change anything, not when it all led him home to this. 

“You think someone could really do that lift in real life?” Sarah asks, eyes flicking to the television and rewatching the iconic lift. 

“Maybe,” you said around your spoon, “looks kinda scary though.” 

“Wanna try?” Joel clears his throat, lifting his brow towards you. 

“No way, dad, you’ve got a bad back.” Sarah snorts with a ridiculous shake of her head.

“My back is fine.” He waves her off, then holds his arms out towards you with a smirk. “No one puts Baby in a corner, right?”  

You giggle, stabbing your spoon into the tub of ice cream, as Sarah takes it from you and instantly puts it down on the counter. 

“I’m so recording this.” Sarah shouts, pulling out her phone and stepping back to capture you and her dad in the frame. 

“Ready, babe?” You stare at him with a nervous smile, taking a deep breath. 

He nods, legs bending slightly. “I got you, sweetheart.” 

You jog, hands bracing against his shoulders, as you feel his fingers dig into your hips and suddenly your feet lifted off the ground.

You can’t help but shriek from above him, peering down to see him staring up at you with an ear to ear grin on his face before he finally sets you down again. 

“Oh, my god!” Sarah let out an amazed laugh, while you giggle uncontrollably, jumping up and down as his arms looped around your waist keeping you close. 

“I can’t believe you just did that!” You praise proudly, patting his chest. 

“Told you so.” He murmurs, pressing another kiss to your lips as you laugh against him. 

“And that’s my cue to leave,” you hear Sarah pipe, waving her hands in the air as she turns around. “I’m going to bed, lovebirds.” She shoots you two a grin over her shoulder. 

“You sure you don’t want to watch Grease next?” You shout after her, but she shakes her head.

“Tomorrow.” She replies. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart, we love you.” You call out through the room, peering a little past the hallway to see her. 

“Thank you! Love you guys too!” She yells back, voice fading as she gets to the top of the stairs. 

The house is suddenly quiet, except for the faint buzz of the television and the whirling of the air conditioner. The second Joel hears the familiar sound of Sarah’s door closing, he can’t help but kiss you again, but this time a little deeper than before. His hands glide down your hips to the backs of your thighs, lifting you up. 

“Babe!”

You pull away and whisper quietly, locking your legs around his waist, stifling your laughter into the crook of his neck as he walks you over to the couch. 

He plops down comfortably, with you in his lap, smiling up at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he murmurs softly. 

“Just wanna spend more time with my girl.” 

“I’m not complaining,” you smile, fingers trailing across his salt and pepper stubble, slowly inching towards his face once again.

“Not. Complaining. One. Bit.” 

You emphasize each word with a soft kiss, all before Joel’s patience finally dwindles. With a firm yet gentle hold, his hand meets the back of your neck, holding you to him and keeping your lips sealed against one another.

He can feel the plush of your lips curling up into a smile, and then his own breath of laughter falling against yours. In this moment, nothing else seems to matter–not when he’s here with you. And after what seems like the longest week, time and everything in between stands still and for once you can finally just be. 

Sure, tomorrow would bring another day and then another week to come, but today is Friday. And Joel’s in love.

*literal depiction of joel's calendar he has hanging somewhere in his office or perhaps hung on the fridge at home hehehe*

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!!

a/n: i know i'm one day late from posting this on a friday (I AM SORRY!!!!)!!! i really wanted to write something sweet and domestic w/o the outbreak so i came up with this! i also got the idea after plenty of listening to Olivia's cover of 'Friday, I'm in Love' and figured this would be super cute hehehe. i hope you guys liked reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it <3 have an amazing weekend and take care MWAH!

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @keerysfolklore @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3

[jameshetfieldsno1writer]

Hey baby! (I’m comfortable calling you that, sorry if your not) can you make werewolf James hetfield x reader finding reader hurt from getting attacked by 3 wolves and took us in and help us heal and then fell in love with us and we accepted the love… and then we found out we are having his pups…. And he happy as ever

Shapeshift

A/N: i have another werewolf rq AND ILL DEF COMPLETE IT DW!!

Word Count: 3k!

Tw: soft sex, smut, scratching kink, size kink, idk what sex w a werewolf is called dude…anyway enjoy!

It was the kind of night that made every horror movie trope suddenly feel plausible. You’d gone out for a late walk because the air was crisp, the moon was bright, and you were apparently deeply committed to making every poor decision the main character makes before they die in act one.

The problem was, you’d wandered too far into the woods — your “five more minutes” of exploring had stretched into “how far can I go before I lose cell service.” The answer, unfortunately, was this far.

The second problem was the sound behind you. Low growls, snapping twigs, and the unnerving realisation that you weren’t alone. You spun just in time to see three wolves — real, teeth-baring wolves — emerge from the shadows.

“Okay,” you said aloud, your voice shaking. “You’re probably just... curious. Maybe you want to be friends?”

They were not there to be friends.

The next few minutes blurred — claws, teeth, and the desperate scramble to get away. You weren’t fast enough; one wolf lunged, teeth grazing your shoulder. The pain was sharp and hot, but before the second could pounce, something else exploded out of the darkness.

It was… huge.

A wall of muscle and fur slammed into the wolf, sending it yelping into the undergrowth. Another went flying. The third turned and bolted. You were left shaking, staring at the massive creature that had just saved you — and which, inconveniently, was now looking right at you.

Golden eyes. Not yellow — golden.

The creature stepped closer, and for a heartbeat, you thought you were about to become dessert. But then… it nuzzledyour arm. Carefully. Almost apologetically.

And that’s when you blacked out.

You woke to the smell of woodsmoke and something faintly metallic — a mix of clean blood and damp earth. Your head felt fuzzy. The couch beneath you was ridiculously comfortable, and a heavy blanket was tucked snugly around your shoulders.

“Hey,” came a voice. Familiar. Rough, like gravel dipped in honey.

You blinked, your eyes focusing on the tall man crouched next to you. He had a mess of sandy-blond hair, a jawline that could probably slice bread, and the kind of build you only get from hauling lumber for fun.

“James?” you croaked.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “You’re safe now.”

James was… well, James. You’d been friends for a while — the kind of friend who showed up when your sink broke, carried your heaviest groceries without asking, and somehow managed to always have coffee ready exactly when you needed it. He’d never mentioned living out here in the woods, though. Or owning what looked like a cabin from a very expensive catalogue.

“You were hurt,” he said. “Had to patch you up.”

Your hand went to your shoulder and found it bandaged neatly, the skin beneath sore but no longer bleeding. “I got… attacked,” you muttered.

He nodded, expression darkening. “Wolves.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Funny you say that like you know them personally.”

That earned you the smallest twitch of his lips, but he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he stood, moving to stir a pot on the woodstove. The smell of stew drifted over, and your stomach growled like it was auditioning for a speaking role.

The next few days blurred into a strange rhythm. James refused to let you leave until you’d healed more. He cooked, checked your bandages, and made sure you stayed warm. At first, you were grateful. Then you started noticing… things.

Like the way he moved — quiet, fluid, predatory. The way his eyes sometimes caught the light and flashed gold. How his hearing was freakishly sharp. (“I can hear your heartbeat,” he said once, deadpan, after you dropped your spoon. You’d stared at him for a full thirty seconds before deciding he was joking. Probably.)

And then there was the fact that he disappeared for hours at night, always returning with the faint smell of the forest clinging to him.

By the fourth night, curiosity got the better of you.

You were curled up on the couch when he came in, brushing snow off his flannel. “Out for a stroll?” you asked casually.

He shot you a glance. “Something like that.”

You tilted your head. “You’ve got… pine needles in your hair.”

He reached up, plucked one free, and shrugged. “Cabin’s surrounded by trees. Not exactly shocking.”

“Mhm,” you said, drawing the sound out. “So, when were you planning to tell me you’re a werewolf?”

The mug he’d been holding froze halfway to his lips. “…What?”

You grinned. “I mean, the signs are there. The disappearing acts. The golden eyes. The super-hearing. And unless you’re part German Shepherd, I don’t know why else you’d sniff everything.”

James set the mug down slowly. “That’s… a hell of an accusation.”

“It’s not an accusation if it’s true,” you shot back. “C’mon. Prove it. Shift. Or whatever you call it.”

He gave you a long, unreadable look. “…You think this is a joke?”

“Kinda,” you admitted. “Also, I’ve had like, zero entertainment for days. Humor me.”

There was a beat of silence. Then James sighed, muttering something under his breath about “you never making anything easy.” He stepped back, rolling his shoulders like he was loosening up.

You watched, suddenly unsure if you were actually about to see a man turn into a giant wolf in your living room.

The change wasn’t violent — no horror movie bone-snapping — but it was still… wild. One moment, James was standing there, human and scowling at you. The next, fur rippled across his skin like ink spilling in water. His posture dropped, muscles shifting, bones subtly reshaping until the man was gone and a massive wolf stood where he’d been.

And yep. Golden eyes.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, clapping a hand over your mouth. “You’re adorable.”

The wolf huffed — actually huffed — like he was offended. You reached out slowly, half expecting him to growl, but he just let you scratch behind his ears. His tail twitched.

“You’re wagging,” you teased.

He immediately stopped.

It took you a while to stop laughing. He shifted back with a shake of his head, muttering about “never living this down,” but you caught the smile tugging at his mouth.

“That’s so cool,” you said, still grinning. “Also explains why you’re freakishly warm all the time.”

James just rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well… now you know.”

You leaned back, smirking. “So, you gonna tell me why a werewolf was conveniently nearby when I got attacked?”

That smile of his turned softer. “Because I was already looking for you.”

You blinked. “Why?”

His gaze met yours, steady and warm. “Because I care about you. And I knew those wolves were hunting too close to your place.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you suddenly found the blanket on your lap very interesting. You stand up to try meet his height. James is taken aback, his eyebrow raising as he realises what you were thinking.

“whaddya doin sweetheart…?” You put a finger over his lips as you lock eyes with him, pulling him in close, so close that now you could hear his heartbeat. Your lips touch his, your breath intermingling as you feel the rough fur on his back.

“Don’t worry hun, ill do the walking”🚶‍♂️

—————————

Your breath catches in your throat as you realize what you were doing - he's a werewolf, a powerful creature driven by primal instincts. And yet, despite the danger, you find yourself drawn to him, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his presence.

“You sure you want this?,”

“Certain,”

James reaches out and grabs your wrist, pulling you against his hard, muscular body. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the barely contained strength beneath his skin. His lips crash against yours again in a bruising kiss, and you moan into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his long dirty blonde hair.

James's hands roam over your curves, squeezing your ass and tweaking your sensitive nipples through the thin fabric of your clothes. He bites down on your neck, marking you as his own, and you whimper with need.

"Please," you beg, your hips grinding against his. "I need you."

James growls in response, picking you up and tossing you onto the soft grass. He rips your gown from your body, exposing your smooth, pale skin to the cool night air. You shiver, goosebumps breaking out across your flesh as you lay bare before him.

"You're mine," James repeats, his blue eyes roaming hungrily over every inch of you. "All mine."

He strips off his own clothes quickly, revealing a lean, muscular body that takes your breath away. His huge cock stands proud and erect, the head glistening with pre-cum.

James lowers himself on top of you, rubbing the thick head of his dick against your slick folds. "Are you ready for me?" he purrs, nipping at your earlobe.

"Y-yes," you stammer, your legs falling open in invitation.

James doesn't hesitate. With one powerful thrust, he buries himself inside your tight heat, stretching you to your limits. You cry out, your back arching off the ground as you're filled completely.

"Oh god," you whimper, feeling every inch of his huge cock as it moves inside you. "You're so big."

James groans, his hips starting to move. He pulls out slowly, before slamming back in, setting a brutal pace. The force of his thrusts makes your whole body jolt, your tits bouncing with every movement.

“Mhmph…good boy—“ james stops at that, looking up at you, his piercing blue gaze bearing into your soul. His sharp teeth just inches away from your face.

“Say that again…” James growls, feeling you shake in pleasure.

You whine against him as you feel his throbbing cock slowly grind inside you. You smile as you see his fucked-out features. “You like that huh—ngh, such a good boy…make mama proud then,”

In an instant James pounds into you, practically destroying you from the inside. You can only moan in response, lost in the pleasure coursing through your veins. James's hips are a blur of motion, his massive cock stretching your pussy to its limits.

"Harder," you beg, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Fuck me harder."

James complies with a snarl, pounding into you even harder. His huge cock hits your cervix with every thrust, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

"Fuck, you feel so good," James grunts, his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. "So tight and wet."

"Oh god," you chant, your eyes rolling back in your head. "I'm going to cum."

"Cum for me," James demands, reaching between your bodies to rub tight circles around your clit. "Cum on my cock."

That's all it takes to send you over the edge. Your pussy clamps down on James's dick like a vice as you come hard, your body shaking with the force of it. James growls in satisfaction, fucking you through your orgasm as he chases his own release.

With a final roar, James buries himself to the hilt and comes deep inside you. You can feel every hot spurt of his seed painting your insides, his cock pulsing over and over again.

James collapses on top of you, panting and trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm. You lay beneath him, equally spent, your combined juices leaking out around his softening cock.

———————

You didn’t say it then, but something shifted in you that night. Not just because you now had confirmation your friend was secretly a giant forest guardian with a tail — but because you’d seen the way he’d looked at you, protective and unshakable.

And maybe… just maybe… you weren’t opposed to seeing him wag his tail again.

[lowresmegumi]

Part two of best friend's older brother zayne series

854 words

Zayne thinks it’s kind of ironic that you call him disciplined.

Sure, he wakes up early every morning to go for a run before class. His meals throughout the day are expertly balanced in order to justify his sweets cravings. Before going to the library to study in the evenings, he’s always at the gym to strength train at exactly six o’clock.

He doesn’t get sick. He doesn’t drink. He doesn’t stay up late.

If you were to ask Zayne, he would agree that this approach to life has earned him the success he’s made at such a young age. Starting university at only fourteen, going on to be the youngest recipient of multiple academic and professional awards. And now at 22, he’s about to become a fully-fledged doctor at the same age most people start medical school.

But why then does this one little inconsequential note make him feel so… inadequate?

Lunch with Joel @ Destiny Cafe!! 

He stares at the offending handwriting on the calendar that’s hanging on the fridge. There’s no mistaking that it’s yours, even if the color-coded key in the corner that distinguished your notes from Mel’s wasn’t there.

Finding it had been a mistake. Pure happenstance from the result of looking around the room. A room in an apartment he doesn’t live in. Rather than his morning run, he’s cooking breakfast that he won’t even eat. All because his sister decided to have too much to drink.

The sound of a door opening echoes from somewhere down the hall just as he’s shutting off the stovetop, and your quiet footsteps soon follow.

Zayne turns just as you round the corner. It takes a Herculean amount of effort not to grin at the sight of your messy bedhead.

“Zayne?” You rub at your eyes slowly. “What are you doing here?”

He motions to the counter where two plates of fried eggs and toast are waiting. “I thought you and Mel might need breakfast after last night.”

“Oh my god, you’re a saint.” At the sight of food, your entire body seems to sag in relief. “Wait—did you stay over?”

Zayne nods. “By the time I got both of you in bed, it seemed like a better idea to leave in the morning.”

It had been like trying to wrangle two overgrown children the moment he’d gotten you back to your apartment. Mel thankfully managed to make it to the bathroom before getting sick, and he had to spend the entire time trying to keep you upright while you tearfully held her hair back.

The worst of it had been getting you to go to sleep though. For whatever reason, you seemed more interested in catching up with the uneventful things going on in his life while you fought the weight of your eyelids. It wasn’t until well after two in the morning before he was certain you wouldn’t wake up and ask him to keep going on about the lunch he had last week. 

You seem blissfully unaware of his sacrificed sleep though as you shuffle to the counter and take a bite of toast. Buttery crumbs cling to the corner of your mouth, your cheek bulging out to one side as you chew. It’s cute in a way that Zayne feels it really shouldn’t be.

Not only because you’re just eating, but you’re also his little sister’s best friend. And his friend too, he reminds himself. The same little girl that he spent summers fighting with over who got the last cherry popsicle after spending all day outside. The same girl who helped him find his classroom’s pet turtle when he’d been tasked with watching it over the weekend. The same girl who, no matter how much time has passed, always greets him with a smile and asks about his day.

Like you can hear his thoughts, you give him a playful smile that has his heart struggling to maintain a steady rhythm, and he distracts himself by quietly reciting the chambers of the heart.

“I’m glad you could fit us into your busy schedule, Dr. Zayne.”

Right atrium. Right ventricle.

“It’s Saturday,” he murmurs, and before he can think any better of it, he adds, “Looks like you have plans though. Who’s Joel?”

Left atrium. Left ventricle.

“Huh?” Your eyes follow his gaze as it trails back for the calendar on the fridge, then you suddenly straighten up in your seat. “Oh, I forgot that’s today! He’s an advisor for the engineering department. We’re meeting up to go over what I need to get into the program.”

It shouldn’t relieve him as much as it does, but Zayne feels something within him relax at your words.

It’s a feeling akin to the satisfaction he feels when adhering to his usual regimented routines but noticeably lacking any of the discipline you so often praise him for. When it comes to you, sometimes he feels like he doesn’t have any discipline at all.

And as he gathers all of the dishes to wash up the mess, he thinks briefly that life is more fun with a little break from routine.

taglist: @thechaoticarchivist @humanitys-strongest-brat @ackerbootytobbi

[nuttyhatter]

I've started reading fnaf fanfiction where Michael Afton goes back in time and tries to fix shit. In some, William goes back as well and tries to be better, in others he doesn't become a murderer due to Michael preventing Evan's death, in some he is a piece of shit even though he doesn't go into a killing spread.

Those where the Asshole goes back along with Michael are fun for the groveling and how uncomfortable the interactions are.

But what I have yet to see is a fic where William is jealous of Michael. Think about Michael going back in time and being determined to not only prevent the murders from happening and be a better brother, but to ensure his siblings have a reliable person looking after them and teaching them. So he starts spending more time with them and being nicer. He makes sure they do their homework, he makes a point of getting better at cooking and preparing meals, he pushes for them to get healthier habits, ensuring that they form a routine with basic things like bathing, brushing their teeth, keeping their rooms tidy or waking up relatively early on days they don't have much to do. He makes sure his siblings spend time playing outside and not only inside with the TV.

Elizabeth and Evan are weirded out at first, but things were never this good. They can go back home everyday and even though is usually just the three of them, both children know that there will always be warm food and clean clothes and someone who will tell them to finish their homework before watching TV. And to finish their meal before desert. Or to pick up after they played with their toys.

When Evan's birthday comes, there was nothing Michael could do to stop it from being at Freddy's, but he stopped his "friends" from going and nothing horrible happened to Evan. And once the party was over, with their father still at the diner, Michael, Evan and Elizabeth rented a movie of Evan's choice, Michael made Evan's favorite meal for dinner and the three of them baked a cake togheter.

It takes a long time; actually, it takes close to a year for the oldest Afton to realise that his children haven't been fighting lately. He notices then, how after a nightmare Evan went knocking on Michael's door. He saw how before school, Lizzy asked her older brother to help her with her hair. He noticed how both kids went to Michael for help with their homework and how they always asked him to come and play with them. They went to him for trips to the park. They went to Michael when they needed help with a broken Teddy Bear, they went to their older brother when they felt ill, they went to him when they were hungry, or upset. They asked their older brother for permission to go to their friends' house!

William wasn't home much, but when he was, it was as if he was invisible. None of his kids sought him out.

Maybe, one day a sleepy Evan called for his dad, looking at Michael with nearly closed eyes.

[chickenalfreado]

Boys Don't Cry (except at the dentist)

[gif by samcarpenters] THIS IS A SECOND PART!!! Find the first here.

Relationships: Dennis Whitaker & Trinity Santos, Trinity Santos x Dentist!Reader, Dennis Whitaker & Dentist!Reader Summary: Whitaker remembers past experiences from Broken Bow, as his appointment draws near. (HIS ASS DOES NOT WANT TO GO TO THE DENTIST. 😭😭😭) (1.5k words)

Author's Note: I'm ngl I'm not too confident with how this one turned out but I hope y'all enjoy it! :D (also woops late post. i was at a summer camp with no wifi)

Panting with a cold sweat running down his back, Whitaker wakes up from a nightmare involving his childhood dentist visits. Turns out, the dentists in Broken Bow, Nebraska, don’t have the most modern technology, resulting in him having to have most of his baby teeth and one adult tooth removed before anyone got the chance to even consider simple restorative work. His tongue fills the hole of where his premolar sat just over a decade ago while he winces at the thought of the experience. 

His brief reflection is interrupted by his phone lighting up with a calendar notification Santos created to “remind him,” although the thought already haunted his brain– a never-ending reminder that consumed his mind. However, he can’t allow his fear to take over, at least not fully.. He falls back into his everyday morning routine: putting his black scrubs on, packing his bag, and going into the kitchen to make him and Santos some breakfast. Santos always insisted he cook whenever they didn’t order food because she would “burn the kitchen down,” and apparently Dennis’ farm experience made him pretty handy in the kitchen too. He finishes cleaning his plate just as Santos exits her bedroom, practically floating at the smell of fresh pancakes and syrup.

“...Huckleberry, you are a godsend.” She flops into one of the stools sitting next to the kitchen island.

He smiles humbly. “Says the girl who let me live with her after knowing me for 12 hours.”

“First of all, it was like 16 hours. Second, the meals I get are perfect payment in my eyes.” She looks down at the pancakes, drooling just by seeing them, and shoves a large chunk in her mouth. As Whitaker turns to leave, she sees the notification left on her phone. “Oh, and don’t forget. Ten am today.”

He winces at the reminder and grumbles a small, “…Yep.”

He was hoping she’d forget, but apparently the reminder was more for her than for him. She was usually very punctual when it came to going places thanks to her constantly updated calendar, which she has forced into Whitaker’s life as well. He understood that she always meant well, but her confidence was definitely going to end up killing someone. Maybe Whitaker will be her first victim with how today is going to go. 

In the kitchen, Trinity cleans up and gets her things ready. In the midst of her preparation, she texts you out of genuine concern about her roommate.

-good morningg 

-Good morning Trin. 😊

-so about dennis today. he is like really nervous so PLEASE be kind to him. don’t mock him too much it’s clear this is a rlly touchy topic for him

-Yeah of course! Anything for you, honey.

-thank you thank you thank you 🙏🙏

-Sometimes it blows my mind that you can have a heart.

-i need to save all my love for you

-OKAY ENOUGH! I CANT BE BLUSHING AT 6:30!!! Have a good day at work; I’ll see you soon. 😚

My lesbian lover (Trinity) liked a message.

Santos sighed as she headed out to meet Dennis in the living room only to find it empty. He was usually ready to leave before her, so this was way out of the ordinary. Whitaker constantly took her jokes in a lighthearted manner, often shooting back a sarcastic comment in return; however, maybe she overstepped this time. Maybe Whitaker couldn’t take any more of her stupid jokes. Trinity’s greatest fear is not catching things like this. When her harmless jokes turn out to cause more harm than anything else. The final straw. Sure, she liked to joke around with him and everyone around her, but she knew, or at least she thought she knew, when it was needed and when it was definitely not.

“Whitaker, you ready?” She shouts out in the direction of his room, but there is no response. A minute passes, and her worry only grows. “Dennis, are you good in-“ Her question is cut off as he leaves the bathroom and quickly and quietly heads for the door. 

The car ride to the hospital is dead silent. The first few hours of their shift pass, and Dennis is acting weird; he is quieter, more clinical with his movements, and is constantly looking at his phone in anticipation. He chooses hard cases and seemingly avoids Trinity at all costs, sticking to Mohan’s side as much as possible. She always encouraged him to comfortably push beyond his comfort zone. A thing that Trinity tried doing but only ended up hurting someone she cares about.

The clock hits 9:30, and Trinity and Dennis leave the PTMC together. The car once again falls into complete silence; it reminded Trinity of the first few weeks after he moved in: cold, empty. But, at the point they are at, he’s warmed up to her, constantly returning little remarks, adding his own music to the Spotify Jam, talking about interesting stories from med school, bringing the car to life. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Trinity tries to break the silence, but Dennis just barely looks up and shakes his head. “Well, do you have anything specific you are worried about?” She tries to remember the tactics you told her about this morning: “I can try to explain anything to the best of my ability.”

Dennis lifts his hands as he drags them across his face. “Everything? Trin, I don’t...I don’t know if I can do this.”

She squeezes his hand while still keeping her focus on the road. “Whitaker, you are a 1st-year resident in the emergency department. You survived moving to Pitt alone, med school, and that fucking shift from hell on your first day. You can do this.” 

The car pulls into the parking lot of Polished Dental. Whitaker can feel himself start to sweat, but the small pep talk from Santos did actually help a little. The clock reads 9:45 as they walk into the waiting room that is about the size of one of the patient rooms in the PTMC, enough to fit around ten people at the most. Whitaker finds a seat as Santos goes up to the receptionist’s desk to check him in. She sits down next to him and takes out her phone to, from what he can see, text you to let you know that they are here. 

Wooden beads clatter from a kid playing with the bead maze in the corner, another child starts sobbing as they are taken back, pens scratch at the unending paperwork, the receptionist chooses to type as loud as her keyboard allows apparently, and the ear-piercing noise of drills and suction fills the waiting room. Though still terrifying, this office had a significantly different feel from Broken Bow Dental. It was colorful, modern, and unfortunately very, very noisy. He tried to block out the experience by focusing on his Instagram feed but was interrupted by the sound of a door opening. Trinity and Dennis both lift their heads from their phones, and there you stand in the doorway: hair tied up, lilac scrubs that seem to fit perfectly, loupes loosely hanging around your neck, and a disposable medical gown to top it all off. You see the two sitting at the other side of the waiting room, and you visibly light up. 

“Trinity!!” You exclaim, a wide smile forming as you walk over, your pace much faster than usual. 

Trinity stands up and greets you with a hug and a brief kiss. “Love! I expected one of your assistants to come down, but this is much better. How has work been so far?”

“Pretty boring until now. Plus, Jen needed a little break. How is my super awesome next patient doing?” You glance in Whitaker’s direction to see a clearly nervous wreck who is hiding it horribly, and your demeanor quickly changes. “Hey, Dennis. How about we head on back? You guys are, what, 10 minutes early? So you can get the chance to get used to things, and I can take some more time to explain how this is gonna go. That work for you?”

Trinity always found it interesting to see just how much you change when at work, your sweetness levels breaking the scales. It constantly makes her reflect on her own bedside manner, which she has very much improved with your help. Dennis never saw this professional side of you, but he really needed this kind of thing right now.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Thank you.” He takes a final look around the waiting room, shoves his phone in his pocket, and stands up. He avoids eye contact with anyone and everything in a childlike fashion and talks as if his mother is leaning over his shoulder telling him to use his manners. You are sure that if he didn’t know you as well as he does, he would call you Ma’am. Trinity notices, shoots a sympathetic smile that ends up going unnoticed, and sits back down as you lead Whitaker out of the waiting room.

[moonlight-tmd]

If Team Prime ever somehow turned into techno-organics, like just creature overhaul, same colors and such, the following creature alternatives would be;

Optimus would turn into a big tarantula. Similar to Blackarachnia, but thicker and fuzzy limbs. He's conflicted about his new appearance and abilities, spiders aren't his favorite and being one brings some bad thoughts but he ultimately powers thru it and adapts to help others once more. He will let out clicky hissy sounds when he's frustrated, his fangs produce a very toxic venom so he has to be very careful when cooking to not contaminate it. (he learned it the hard way when he was taste testing the batter and Bee ended up in medbay for a whole day)

Bulkhead was a though one to think up but I think he would be a big draft horse. Strong, heavy and made for work. He's able to deliver a strong kick and often neighs or snorts as a reaction, mainly when he's annoyed or taken by surprise. Yes, he does chew on grass and weeds as a snack, he may or may not have gave in and nibbled on Prowl's plants some. I'd say he's not above offering "lawn moving services" when he gets comfortable as techno-organic.

Ratchet would defo be the mother hen, protective and angry at everything other than his team. He's often broody and puts even more effort into taking care of the injured, even if it's a little possessive/violent- if you need to rest, he will make you rest. If his engine growled when he was angry the now he will cluck while he speaks, but don't be fooled it's not one bit less intimidating than before, if not more so.

Another idea connected to this, I don't think Bumblebee would mind being a techno-organic in general. I mean he likes organics and their culture, he was rather chill when he turned human too. So when he's turned into earth bumblebee he's chill too, I mean sure he's miss his wheels and be bummed cuz it wasn't really consensual turning but he's ok with it. And hey flying is awesome and now he can race with Sari in the sky without any obstacles! (except for planes) He almost always is buzzing, mainly around others. He's just a very happy boy and now everyone knows he's a happy boy, it does get annoying after a while tho. Also he can make honey, edible for both organics and cybertronian.

Prowl... hmmmm. I have 3 alts for him. First one is rhinoceros beetle, he's black and shiny and relatively strong compared to his previous self. Bee would be so hyped about it, constantly calling them "bug buddies". Also, beetles have wings. He would be so enchanted when Prowl accidentally activates them and flies to not crash (he kind of crashes anyway but that's not the point). His wings are crystal and in all sorts of blue hues, it's really surprising contrast to his pitch black armor. (in this setting Bee would be actively flirting and trying to court Prowl in an insecticon way, he is wholeheartedly NOT aware he is doing it. Prowl is questioning what Bee is doing but he's not against it (it's working but he doesn't wanna admit it). Both of them would be doing some weird bug stuff to court one another and not realize they are courting each other until it's too late and they end up mates.) Also like all beetles, he's so FUCKIN LOUD when he flies, Bee thinks he sounds like a helicopter. Prowl is surprisingly clumsy with flight, Bee has flying lessons with him cuz for some reason he's the most graceful flier Prowl's ever seen.

Another alt idea is a cat obviously. Generic sleek black cat, stalking on the streets. He's pretty much the same as he was except he has cat ears and a tail. Would be funny if he couldn't control his purring and would just randomly purr while he has the most stone-cold expression ever. Everyone thinks it's adorable and they're happy he's happy, Prowl... not so much. Bonus point if he automatically has like a bell collar and cannot get rid of it by any means so sometimes others can just hear this gentle jingle coming their way and they smile. Also Bee figured out his soft spot so when they're arguing he'd just reach and scratch it mid-yell and Prowl just melts involuntarily. This work 79% of the time for defusing arguments, other 21%... Bee now knows what these kitty claws can really do, ouch.

The last idea is a wolf since Prowl is kinda lone wolf character. Not much on this one, but I will say he is fond of sticks. Like unusually fond of sticks. He doesn't chew them, just collects them. And yes, he will chase it if you throw one- but only to retrieve it back to the hoard and then chase you down later for touching it.

[starry-bi-sky]

realizing i have. a lot of untapped trauma potential for clone^2 danny because i just Fully Processed Four Months Late the fact that his parents were capturing and torturing ghosts in the basement before he became Phantom. and the fact that he was on house rest for 2 weeks. during that time period. and he wasn't really leaving the house. he could hear their screaming through the floorboards

*points at clone danny* i can give you suuuuuuch a bad time babe ahaha. i've got two untouched years before you meet damian what fucks you up before then

[ambersky0319]

New Employee aquired today

My manager: Hey Grace maybe you can show NE some things, but don't overwhelm her

Me:

Me: so like. make sure it's not a repeat of my first day???

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

Playing Cooking Mama with Finn so he can explain what all the foods are that I don't know.

[mars-ipan]

kinda funny when ur brain’s gut instinct is repression so you just kinda watch while your stress and emotions get bottled and corked and the whole time ur just like “that is going to bite me in the ass so bad later but i can’t seem to open the damn bottles without getting glass everywhere so! guess we’ll wait”

[exopelagic]

yeah I have more to say