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lele. she/her. 19. bi. white, light green, black. lana del rey. sabrina carpenter. louis tomlinson. harry styles. drew starkey. 1d lover. books. pinterest. horror movies. the walking dead & variants. outer banks. silver jewelry. dogs. pistachio. rafia. hot chocolate. snoopy. the last of us. hotd.
english isn’t my first language.
© DREWSCTOVER est. 2025
you lost faith in yourself and in the world, but destiny is already written — and when you least expect it, happiness finds its way to you. 𓈒 ⭒ ݁ .
warnings: none !!! maybe just reader overthinking and almost having an anxiety meltdown.
chapter one. 𓈒 ⭒ ݁ .
it’s your first day, and joel’s not even home.
what kind of dad hires a nanny to take care of his daughter and doesn’t bother to be there to meet her — y’know, the person who’s going to look after the most important human in his entire life every single day? jesus. this man is insane.
you’d never leave edward alone with a nanny before getting to know her really well. like, stalk her on social media and check her astrological-sign. you’d have to be absolutely sure she’s a good person.
edward... god, stop thinking about him. you cannot have a panic attack on your first day.
when you stepped into joel’s apartment, it totally caught you off guard — clean, organized, almost suspiciously perfect. spacious and immaculately decorated, with these big windows overlooking a postcard-worthy view of kelowna — a small town in canada where it’s always cold, but people are warm, smiley, and weirdly eager to help strangers.
the dark hardwood floors, sleek grey couch, black-and-white furniture — it all screamed modern minimalism. like, straight out of a high-end magazine. pretty? sure. but also cold. impersonal. it didn’t feel like a seven year old little girl actually lived there too. poor ellie.
you left the living room behind in silence, your eyes trailing down the long hallway toward what you assumed was ellie’s bedroom — thanks to a cute snoopy plushie hanging on the doorknob. you let out a slow breath, trying to think of a gentle way to approach.
since losing your son, you’ve done everything you could to avoid children. that sharp, unbearable ache in your chest always finds a way to show up when you see one.
he could’ve been that age. he could’ve had a room like this. would he like snoopy too?
damn it. fet it together.
your brother warned you it wouldn’t be easy — that you'd want to turn around and bolt back to the comfort of your own home. but you didn’t think it would be this hard.
it’s fine. you’ve got this.
you walk up to ellie’s door and knock softly. on the other side, you hear a grumpy little mumble, followed by hesitant footsteps. then, the door creaks open — just a sliver.
a tiny face peers out, eyes squinted with suspicion.
“you my new babysitter?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper, sizing you up from head to toe. she looks bored. maybe mildly annoyed.
you nod and smile. she’s so stinkin’ cute.
“yes, ellie, i’m your new babysitter,” you reply in a whisper to match hers. “joel, your... dad...” the word sends an odd little chill down your spine. weirdo. you don’t even know why. “he told me on the phone that you’re really good at making new friends, and that you’d play with me until he gets back. can i come in?”
she doesn’t answer right away. her bright blue eyes watch you through the crack in the door. then, with the slow, deliberate movement of someone making a very important decision, she opens it the rest of the way.
she just stands there for a second, staring at you with this funny little expression, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders, chubby fists clenched like she’s bracing for battle.
“okay,” she says, her voice suddenly softer, gentler — none of the earlier suspicion in sight. “you can come in…”
she steps aside and you walk in, carefully, trying to keep your emotions in check. and thank god — the inside of her room is nothing like the rest of the apartment.
it’s full of life, not like a hospital room.
colors everywhere. dolls and toys scattered across the floor. stuffed animals lined up on shelves. crayon drawings taped to the walls. it’s messy, but in that magical way only a kid’s room can be.
he could’ve had a room like this...
your thoughts are cut short when ellie grabs your hand and pulls you down onto a pastel yellow shag rug in the middle of the room.
she’s shy, clearly, maybe a little worn out. but then she casts a quick, hesitant glance toward a little open box of nail polish sitting on her bookshelf. you catch the tiniest glimmer in her blue eyes — and that’s your cue.
you scoot a bit closer and sit beside her.
“these are amazing, ells! did you paint your nails all by yourself?” you ask, genuinely impressed.
“i did,” she says, her voice small and quiet. but you spot the ghost of a smile starting to tug at the corner of her lips. “but daddy always says i make a mess.”
“mess is part of the fun! i’m totally clumsy with nail polish too,” you admit, because honestly, it’s true. you reach for a little white bottle and hold it up, eyes wide. “this one matches my dress! will you show me how to paint?”
and just like that, her ghost of a smile becomes a full-on, toothy grin.
“okay. but don’t mess it up, okay? i know how to do it right.”
your heart basically melts right there.
she scoots in close and offers you her tiny hand. you gently place yours on top of hers. ellie picks up the bottle from the floor with both hands, carefully, and leans in like she’s working on a masterpiece.
and while she paints, you notice it.
your heart’s no longer racing. the lump in your throat is gone.
if she looked up at you now, she’d probably laugh at the dumb, starry-eyed expression you’ve got on your face.
ellie is magic.
you’re so glad you took this job.
hours pass like soft echoes in the apartment — cartoons fade, laughter quiets, ellie drifts into sleep — and now it’s just you and the dim hum of the fridge, the ticking clock, and the hush of your own breath.
you’re curled into the corner of joel’s gray couch, legs tucked under you, wearing one of ellie’s forgotten scrunchies like a bracelet and still smelling faintly of bubblegum polish.
and then, the door clicks.
you freeze, barely turning your head — like movement might break the spell — and in steps joel, finally home.
he looks… tired. worn around the edges in a way that feels permanent. his flannel’s half unbuttoned, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and his hair’s a little damp, like he ran a hand through it too many times or maybe got caught in the rain. there's a weight to his presence — not heavy, exactly, just undeniable.
when his eyes land on you, there’s a flicker of confusion. then something else. curiosity, maybe.
you sit up a little straighter, brushing your fingers over your knee like that’ll make you look less… like a person who just had her heart melted by a tiny human and is trying not to fall apart about it.
damn it, joel, you didn’t tell me your daughter’s a heart-stealer.
“hey,” you say, your voice a little softer than usual. “ellie’s out. like, out-out. didn’t even make it to the second bedtime story.”
joel raises an eyebrow as he walks farther in, tossing his keys in a bowl by the door. “that’s a record. she usually tries to negotiate at least three.”
you laugh under your breath. “yeah, she offered me a deal. if i let her watch tangled twice, she’d go to bed early.”
he chuckles. the sound is deep, low, warm in a way you weren’t expecting. “smart kid.”
“she is,” you agree. “and funny. and bossy.”
“that she is,” he mutters, like it’s a badge of honor.
you’re both quiet for a moment, the kind of pause that stretches just a little too long but doesn’t quite cross into uncomfortable. he leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching you like he’s trying to figure something out. like you surprised him.
and yeah, maybe you’re watching him back. maybe your stomach does a tiny, ridiculous flip when he smiles — just a twitch of his lips, crooked and lopsided.
you’re not supposed to notice stuff like that.
but you do.
“thanks for taking care of her,” he says, quieter now. “i know it’s the first day. that’s not always easy.”
you offer a small, genuine smile. “honestly? she made it easier than i thought she would.”
and then he nods — slowly, like maybe that means something to him — and says, “still. appreciate it.”
you nod back, heart doing that low thrum thing it hasn’t done in a while.
joel glances toward the kitchen, then back at you — a little hesitant, like he’s debating whether or not he should say what he’s about to say.
“want a coffee?” he asks, casual enough, but there’s something curious in the way he says it. like he’s testing the waters, seeing if you’ll stay just a little longer.
and for a second — just a second — you almost say yes. you picture the two of you sitting at the table, mugs in hand, the soft clink of ceramic filling the quiet, maybe talking about ellie, or life, or… whatever this little buzz in your stomach is.
but you take a slow breath, offer a soft smile, and shake your head.
“i’d love to, but… i should head home. first day and i’m already wiped out,” you say, rising slowly, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder.
“of course,” he nods, understanding — though something flickers behind his eyes, something that might’ve been disappointment. just a flicker. “i get it.”
you walk toward the door, and he follows, opening it for you. the warm yellow hallway light spills into the apartment like it’s gently nudging you out.
“thanks again,” he says, his voice a touch lower now, eyes meeting yours. “for everything with ellie. and… for taking the job.”
you smile, soft and genuine. “thank you for trusting me.”
you both linger there for a beat, maybe two. like there’s something else hanging in the air — something that wants to be said but refuses to take shape.
so instead, you just say:
“good night, joel.”
and he answers, steady and quiet:
“good night.”
you take a few steps down the hallway, and it’s not until the door clicks shut behind you that you realize you’d been holding your breath.
your heart’s still steady.
but your stomach… your stomach hasn’t quite caught on that this was only day one.
authors note. HELPPP i can't believe i posted this fr WHAJSBD like it says on my pinned, english isn't my first language so pls bear with me if there's any mistakes lol <3 hope u guys like it !! 🥺 if u wanna be on the taglist just lmk in the comments !!!!
warnings: modern series/no outbreak, dad!joel, age gap (reader is twenty four and joel is forty two), fluffy, a little bit of angst due to the reader’s past (mourning and miscarriage), mentions of body insecurity and unhealthy eating habits, smut (chapters marked) and maybe… slow burn.
their instagram profile’s. 𓈒 ⭒ ݁ .
you lost faith in yourself and in the world, but destiny is already written — and when you least expect it, happiness finds its way to you. 𓈒 ⭒ ݁ .
warnings: modern series/no outbreak, dad!joel, age gap (reader is twenty four and joel is forty two), fluffy, a little bit of angst due to the reader’s past (mourning and miscarriage), mentions of body insecurity and unhealthy eating habits, smut (chapters marked) and maybe… slow burn.
epilogue. 𓈒 ⭒ ݁ .
you lost your baby a few weeks ago. no. months ago. but you still can’t get over it. the loss of your little boy, your little edward, whom you loved with all your heart, broke something inside you. and maybe that can’t be fixed anymore.
the first weeks were terrible. you didn’t eat, didn’t get out of bed, and ended your two year relationship with your son’s father.
you lost all sense of life and color — your world turned gray and miserable, and your heart felt heavier than ever. you feel guilty. you feel lost, and there’s this constant sense of emptiness, especially in your belly, where your baby used to grow.
edward was restless that afternoon, maybe scared by the sound of the rain. while he kicked you, making you giggled and cry from the pain, you stroked your belly and whispered, with a faint smile and tears in your eyes, “easy, my sweet boy, you’re going to kill mommy like that.”
and just like that, the pain would fade, and your heart would warm. your son was there, safe — and in a few months, you would have him in your arms.
but that didn’t happen.
and now, one year later, you got a job offer: to be a nanny for a seven year old girl. a kid was the last thing you needed right now. but, according to your older brother, you should give the job a chance, because, like grandma used to say, “children heal everything.”
yeah, maybe. but at my first panic attack, i’ll quit.
“hello? mr. miller?” you said, your voice soft and calm, as you held the phone to your ear. you had just finished your coffee and, in that moment, were grateful you'd gotten your future boss’s number through linkedIn. because if you hadn’t, you’d have to leave the comfort of your home to meet him in some fancy restaurant. “i accept the job, mr. miller. i’m honored by your trust! and i can’t wait to meet you and, of course, little ellie.”
chapters. 𓈒 ⭒ ݁ .
one┆two┆three┆four┆five┊six┊more to be added.
extras. 𓈒 ⭒ ݁ .
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