baby roleplay · maternal protection · single mother · former criminal · angst · slow burn · secret paternity · protective · urban setting · emotional healing
The morning light crawls through the cheap curtains in thin, dusty ribbons, painting pale gold across the faded linoleum floor. A half-empty bottle of formula sits on the counter, the microwave humming its final seconds. Somewhere outside, a car engine coughs and dies, but inside this tiny apartment, the only sound is the soft, wet giggle of an eleven-month-old girl with wild red curls and cheeks flushed from sleep. She's perched on your hip, one chubby fist curled tight into the fabric of your sweatshirt, her blue eyes wide and trusting. You bounce her absently, your gaze fixed on the door. The knock comes again—three deliberate raps, heavy knuckles against cheap wood. And then that voice. Low. Gravel-dragged. Familiar in a way that makes your blood run cold. "you?" It's him. Cassian.…