#clapping her little hands for her while they cheer for her daddy while she just coos and smiles up at buck

[fiona-fififi]

Suddenly thinking about Buck, after he and Eddie finally get together, accompanying Eddie to his pick-up games every now and then just so he can sit on the sidelines to cheer Eddie on.

[ferrstappen]

let me take care of it l LN4

a/n: this was inspired by the gorgeous gorgeous scene of K-mag and his daughter 💘 also, this is ALL OVER THE PLACE bc I wrote it on my phone in like 15 min but still hope you like it💘 I’ll also update dad max tomorrow 💘

summary: when papa isn’t feeling his best, baby Norris knows what she has to do.

Lando wasn’t feeling his best and everyone could see it; it didn’t matter what anyone said, whether it was his dad, mum, sisters, Zak, Oscar, even you… he couldn’t stop being so harsh on himself that every person on the paddock wanted to lay his back and tell him to catch a break, he still is one of the best.

Your arrival to Abu Dhabi has been one worthy of the last race of the season, the private flight full of the Norris family, from the little ones to the in laws, with your parents chatting and laughing with Lando’s mum as they took turns to hold Amalia.

Everything was going great, really, but as the weekend started rolling and after quali, his smile faltered, face hardened, bringing himself down for some mistake.

So you made sure the hotel room had everything he needed, left Amalia sleeping on the crib while you picked his race day boxers, McLaren tshirt and joggers, so he could just throw his body to the bed and fall asleep.

���Do you want to talk about it?” You asked him as he settled his body in front of yours, not even asking to be the little spoon.

“No, but I just want tomorrow to be over so we can go home and be alone, you know?” His voice came out muffled by the pillow and your arm. “The only thing I want is to get home and start decorating for Christmas, Amy’s first Christmas… that’s all I want,”

“Okay then, let’s focus on that,” kissing his shoulder, you noticed his breathing slowing down.

Amalia Norris was a known face around the paddock, even if she couldn’t speak or even walk, she greeted everyone with a quick movement of her hand and happy squeal, depending on who it was.

Now, she had big things to protect her ears from all the sounds, Lando’s helmet and gloves in front of her and just as she was about to reach for the gloves and get scolded by you, Lando appeared with his usual smile, chest buffing at the sight of his two girls cheering him on, both wearing papaya.

“Do you want to help me get ready for the car, bubba?” Lando asked his daughter and she clapped her hands, giggling, almost as if she was trying to say something but couldn’t. “Okay, gloves please,”

Lando supposed it was going to be a show but no, his daughter had a concentrated look on her face as her small hands grabbed the glove and put it on Lando’s hand, repeating the action.

Before putting on the helmet, Lando picked her up, giving her a tight hug and loudly kissing her cheek just to fill his ears with her melodic laugh, the only fuel he needed. He closed his eyes while her hands grabbed both of his cheeks to get him closer and leave a kiss on his forehead, and in that moment Lando thought he was capable to give up the last race of the season just for this moment to never end.

“I think you need the helmet, huh?” You reminded the pair, taking Amalia from your boyfriend’s arms.

Lando gave you a quick peck on the lips before putting on the helmet, adjusting it until it was perfect, but there was one last detail.

“Visor, baby,” Lando pointed at it and Amalia carefully closed it, now he was ready.

“Good luck, daddy!” You told him as you noticed people were looking for him.

“Daddy? I thought in public it was papa,” he cheekily added, making you blush.

“Shut up, go get second place!” You joked before blowing him a kiss.

“I’m only thinking about our Christmas tree, baby. I love you both.”

[gilbertscurls]

Tutu Day ➵ Matt Sturniolo

summary: matt dresses up in a tutu just because your daughter asks him

inspired by

The living room was a whirlwind of color and laughter as your Matt’s three-year-old daughter, Luna, bounced around in her favorite pink tutu. The sparkle in her eyes was contagious, and her excitement filled the room with a joyous energy. She had been adamant all week about having a special “tutu day,” and today was finally the day.

You watched from the couch, your heart swelling with love and amusement. You had anticipated the moment when Luna would ask Matt to join in on the fun. You were prepared for the laughter and the chaos that was sure to follow.

Luna tugged on Matt’s hand, her little face set with determination. “Daddy, you wear a tutu too!”

Matt, who had been trying to balance a stack of blocks while simultaneously monitoring Luna’s playtime, looked down at her in surprise. “A tutu?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, Daddy! You wear a tutu! It will be so fun!” Luna insisted, her eyes wide with hope.

Matt glanced at you, while you were trying your best to stifle your giggles. You gave him an encouraging nod, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “Alright, Luna. I’ll wear the tutu.”

Luna’s face lit up, and she clapped her hands in delight. “Yay!”

You quickly retrieved a sparkly, pink tutu from the closet. Matt took a deep breath, preparing himself for the spectacle. He stepped into the tutu, pulling it up around his waist with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. The fluffy pink fabric settled around him, and he looked at you, seeing you were now fully laughing.

Matt adjusted the tutu, trying to make himself look somewhat comfortable. “How do I look?”

Luna’s eyes widened in pure joy as she ran up to him. “You look amazing, Daddy!” She spun around in her own tutu, mimicking ballet moves with adorable clumsiness. “Let’s dance!”

Matt grinned, his nerves melting away as he saw the sheer happiness on Luna’s face. He took her small hands in his, and they started twirling around the living room. Despite the awkwardness of the tutu, Matt found himself laughing and enjoying the moment. Luna’s laughter was infectious, and he couldn’t help but get caught up in the fun.

You watched from the sidelines, capturing the heartwarming scene on your phone. You knew that moments like these were fleeting but precious. Seeing Matt so willingly participate in Luna’s fantasy made your love for him even stronger.

“Look at you, Daddy! You’re the best!” Luna cheered, her enthusiasm unwavering.

Matt chuckled, giving Luna a gentle lift and spinning her around. “Anything for you, sweetheart. Just remember, this tutu is not becoming a regular part of my wardrobe.”

Luna giggled, giving him a quick hug. “I love you, Daddy.”

Matt’s heart melted as he hugged her back, the tutu’s fluffiness adding a playful touch to the embrace. “I love you too, Luna. And I’m glad we had this tutu day.”

As they danced and played, you joined in, your laughter mingling with theirs. The room was filled with love and happiness, a perfect snapshot of family joy. Matt might have felt silly in the tutu, but in Luna’s eyes, he was the hero of the day.

When the laughter finally settled and the tutu day came to a close, you and Matt cuddled on the couch with Luna nestled between you. Despite the initial awkwardness, Matt knew that the day would be one of those cherished memories you would look back on fondly.

You looked at him with a loving smile. “You were amazing today. Thank you for making Luna’s day special.”

Matt smiled, resting his head against yours. “It was worth it. Seeing her that happy… It’s all that matters.”

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom

[russellsppttemplates]

This drawing is for you (Lando Norris)

Matilda already has her love language, handing out her drawings to people

Note: english is not my first language. Look who showed up, hm? Honestly, the last two weeks have been a bit all over the place and I've been meaning to post way more than what I actually have

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Mummy?", you heard your daughter call for you, walking to her playroom since you assumed that's where she was, "yes, baby?", you made your presence known.

"Can we stop by the stationery shop when we go and pick daddy up from work, please? My colouring pencils are getting too small", she showed you a few examples, the colours you recognised from having a big presence in her drawings belonging to pencils that you were barely able to hold in your hands yourself.

"Of course, Tilly", you smiled, "speaking of which, we have to leave soon. Are you almost finished with your drawing?", you wondered, "yes, mummy, I just need to finish colouring in the sun", she mused, grabbing the tiny yellow pencil and carrying on with her work.

When she finished, she set the pencil down, stopping in the bathroom to wash her hands and heading to the door to meet you, "hold your sleeves", you nudged as she held on the hems while you put on her jacket, not wanting her to let the clothes climb up her arms and be uncomfortable.

"Let's go, mummy!", she cheered, walking downs the stairs into the garage so you could get in the car and drive to the factory.

As you were driving, your husband called, "hello, love! We're already in the car on our way to get you, we're going to stop by the shop to buy some colouring pencils for Tilly so we don't have to wait too long for you", you said, turning on the blinker once you faced the junction.

"Hi daddy!", Matilda spoke loudly, hoping her could hear her like she heard him, "How are my favourite girls today? Actually, I was calling because the meeting ended early and I'm ready whenever you want to pick me up", Lando voiced as you saw your daughter smile from her spot in the back of the car, "you can come with us to the shop, then!", she said excitedly.

"That's a great idea, love! Me and Matilda will go and pick you up first, then! We're ten, maybe fifteen minutes out, depends on how traffic is, it looks okay, though", you muttered, finding it easy so far to drive to the factory.

"Okay, I'll be waiting for you! I love you, girls! Drive safe!", he said before ending the call, Matilda clapping her hands excitedly at the prospect of seeing her father earlier than expected.

By the time you arrived at the factory, Matilda had listed all of the materials she would like to get so her drawings would be pretty. Parking the car, you got out, putting on your coat as you walked to open Matilda's door, "let's go, Matilda!", you smiled, unbuckling her belt and making sure she was cozy and warm to face the cold end of the day temperatures.

Everyone in the factory knew you and your little one, so they would have at you, knowing they would have a difficult time at getting many words out of your little girl, usually a sweet smile, a wave and a small and quiet "hi" before she held onto your legs and hid her face there.

Lando was laughing loudly, so it was easy to know that as soon as you crossed that corner, you'd find your husband along with one of his mechanics and engineers.

Matilda smiled as she saw her daddy, releasing the grip she had on your hand, but keeping them laced until Lando and her locked eyes, "hello, my loves!", Lando said, crouching down so his daughter could finally unlace her hand from yours and run up to him, hugging him and allowing him to pick her up so she could kiss his cheek, "Hi, daddy", she whispered in his ear.

Even though there were only two other people beside her parents, she was still shy as they greeted her, "Hello!", they said as she waved, smiling before hiding her face on her father's neck.

"We'll talk about it tomorrow. Goodbye Y/N, bye-bye Matilda!", they said as they went the opposite direction, you and Lando bidding goodbye whenever you encountered someone until you were in the parking lot, ready to get in the car.

"Do you want to drive?", you asked your husband despite already knowing the answer. He hated not being in control of the situation if he could, so driving his family around was non negotiable most times, only sitting as a passenger when he was very tired.

Buckling Matilda back in her seat and kissing her forehead, you got into the car yourself as your husband drove to the usual shop where you got your daughter's art supplies and your own whenever your work required materials.

"Do you already know what you want to get, babygirl?", Lando asked as the three of you walked inside the shop. It was unusually quiet for this time of the day, and a small part of Matilda was happy because she could go up to the shelves and drawers she already knew had what she needed without having to ask her parents for help in moving along the shop.

After grabbing the supplies she needed, she took them to the young woman at the front so her parents could pay for it, "have a nice day, Matilda! I'm sure your works of art will be beautiful!", she said. You and your family were regular costumers, so they had already grown to know your name and hers, so they had managed to get in the small group of people that were not family and friends and Matilda didn't feel to shy with.

"Bye-bye, have a nice day, too!", she waved sweetly before running up to her daddy, "very good, Matilda, I'm very proud of you for that!", he said, kissing her cheek and walking along with you to the car.

.

The McLaren unit was working on full speed as you arrived, coffees and other drinks being served as guests arrived or workers carried on with their day, you opting to go to the track, along with Matilda, after the initial morning rush so you wouldn't have to deal with too many people at once.

"Do you want to to go to daddy's room or stay here?", you questioned her, "here in the lounge", she replied as you walked to one of the tables near the windows so you could be near the sunlight that had graced the weekend and be a little further away from the buzz.

"Do you want to draw with me, mummy?", she offered once she was comfortably sitting on the chair, taking her pencil case from her backpack along with the blank sheets of paper.

"Sure, love! Let me just text daddy so he knows where we are when he finishes his meeting", you smiled, grabbing your phone to text Lando before setting it down and grabbing the things you needed.

"Are you drawing daddy's car?", Matilda asked sweetly as she took a peek at your work, "I am! Do you think it's pretty?", she nodded, "but not as pretty as yours, I love your butterfly", you complimented.

As she was finishing colouring in the wings, one of the girls from the PR team came to greet you, "Y/N, Matilda! It's been a while since I saw you around!", she cheered, kissing each of your cheeks as you did the same to her before she noticed your daughter looking at her, "hello", she said in her usual quiet tone.

As you spoke with the young woman, your daughter carefully folded the paper and ripped it by the crease she had made so she could separate the small drawing from the rest of the plain paper.

"Alright, girls! I'll see you later!", she said as someone called her name, presumably with a task for her to do.

"You can have this one if you'd like", Matilda spoke, showing her the drawing, "really, babygirl? Thank you so much, I'm so flattered!", she said, accepting it and keeping it safe in her notebook, "I'll keep it here until I can get home and put it in my wall, okay?", she nodded as your little girl blushed at the attention, nodding too.

.

Because the practice session was being used as the scheduled opportunity for the reserve driver to do a few laps on the track, Oscar joined you and Matilda as you looked over the cars on track.

"I need to go to the bathroom. Do you also need to go, Tilly?", you asked your daughter, earning a head shake no, "I'm good, mummy", she said, going back to colouring in.

Excusing yourself after Oscar assured he'd keep her company, Matilda was quick to silently offer her crayons to the Australian man along with her colouring book.

"Where are Lily and Lucas?", she asked for her usual companions for the weekend. They would often be together so you and Lily could catch up while the kids entertained themselves in eachother's company.

"They stayed back home this weekend", Oscar explained, "but they told me they wish they were here. I think they're coming to Silverstone, so we will all be together then", he smiled as she gave him a small smile, too, noddinh in agreement and taking out her new glitter pens.

They start colouring and not saying much, only asking eachother to please hand them a crayon or pen the other couldn't reach or if the drawing looked good. Matilda felt understood by him, so it was no surprise that, besides her family, he was the person she felt the most comfortable with spending time in the paddock.

.

"Where's daddy taking you, little miss?", you asked as you saw Lando change the t-shirt your daughter was wearing. Under her dungarees, she now had an orange McLaren t-shirt, matching her father as he held her on his hip, "we're going to hand in drawings I made, and I didn't want to do it alone, and since you said you were feeling tired, daddy said he would take me", she smiled, kissing your cheek when you got up to kiss your husband's lips and her forehead.

"You sit tight, alright baby?", Lando urged, "me and Tilly want you to be well rested when the time comes to watch the race", he kissed your forehead. You hadn't slept that well the night before, so when Matilda had built her collection of gifts, she didn't want to tire you out more.

Leaving the hospitality, Lando walked with Matilda, asking her where she wanted to go first, "Can we find uncle Seb first? Mummy and I saw him when we arrived, but there were a lot of people near him so we said we'd see him later", she reasoned as Lando quickly searched for the retired German driver, "there he is, love", he pointed, walking in his direction.

Despite her initial confidence, Matilda felt shy as everyone's eyes landed on her and her father, cooing at the sight of them matching and the fact that little Norris had showed up, too.

"Hello, Matilda! How are you?", Sebastian asked, smiling at the duo as she retreated, hiding her face on his neck. Her backpack was open as Lando pulled the art pieces out.

"Didn't you want to give something to Sebastian, gorgeous girl?", Lando encouraged, kissing her cheek sweetly and giving her time.

"The bee one, daddy", Matilda whispered against his neck where she kept hhalf of her face hidden as Lando flickered the drawings, finding the one she meant.

"Is this for me? Thank you, Matilda, this is very nice!", Sebastian said warmly, making he little girl smile at him.

"Who's next?", Lando asked, "Charles, I made a drawing for him with a sea, because he lives in Monaco", she reasoned.

.

"And on the screens now we can see the McLaren garage this afternoon, where Lando Norris has his little one and his wife here this weekend!", Natalie said looking at the screen along with Naomi.

"That's true! Little Matilda has been in the paddock with her parents this whole weekend, and yesterday I had the privilege of seeing the cutest scene! She was hiding behind Lando's legs, but she kept holding some of the drawings until she found the people she wanted to give them to!", Naomi added, "she had one for Sebastian, for Charles, and she also shared some with the McLaren crew, too!

"And when I was interviewing Oscar this morning, Matilda walked closer to us and asked for his help to get the drawing she made of me - I have it right here, let me show you! - and this is the cutest thing ever! I have an orange suit - because of papaya, she said -, and my braids look so good with this glittery accent, see?", she showed Natalie as she nodded, "she's usually a very quiet little one, but she's an artist for sure. She takes after her mummy, so I've heard", she smiled into the camera.

"Yet, this morning, when me and the crew were deciding where to go first, we caught a father-daughter that made our hearts melt, take a look in the screens!", Natalie finished.

"Is it silly, Matilda?", Lando tried, seeing his daughter give him a full belly laugh as he drew a crocodile with rain boots, "crocodiles don't need rain boots, daddy! They can swim and walk all the same!", she giggled, delighting the people who were watching and hearing her laugh. "Well, maybe I should give him some floaties, too! Should I make him pink ones like yours?", he tried, earning another set of giggles out of his little girl.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

(cw: a child, f!reader, "mommy", and "daddy")

[8:41 am]

"Are you sure she's warm enough?" Dad!Jeno asked nervously, adjusting the scarf on his toddler for the nth time.

"She's sweating Jeno, she's fine. Right baby?" You bend to ask the toddler to pull up her zipper.

She nods with an excited smile. You and Jeno had woken up to the excited squeals of you daughter while she jumped on your bed and babbled on and on about the snow. This would be her first year she could actually remember being in the snow and being able to play on her own. She was so excited, she talked the whole way through breakfast about how she couldn't wait to be outside and play in the snow until the sun went down.

Before you all went outside, after a lot of begging on your daughter's end, and many, many layers later, you were all heading down stairs to go outside.

Jeno had bundled her up in a thermal, sweats, gloves, a beanie, and a snow suit, the poor girl would be sweating outside. Jeno had made sure you were bundled up as well and led you all out of the house in his pajamas. Needless to say, you made him go in and get changed.

"Snow!" Your daughter cheered as she dashed out of the elevator. Jeno was hot on her tail, grabbing her hand and helping her over the icy sidewalk to get to the fluffy white snow.

You joined them outside right on time to see her plop onto her back, sinking into the snow to make a snow angel. She laughed happily, flapping her arms up and down through the snow. She stood up with snow stuck to her snowsuit and rosy cheeks, red from the cold and ran off to play some more.

You and Jeno watched her for a while, running around happily with the other kids of the apartment building. She made countless snow angels, snowballs, and just had fun in the snow.

Jeno smiled at her lovingly, "She really looks like she's having a good time- put the snowball down! Don't eat it!"

You laughed watching Jeno chase after her and the snowball she was going to eat. She ran straight behind you to hide, giggling like crazy and out of breath.

"Hey baby," You laugh, adjusting her hat, "Want to build a snowman with Mommy?"

She nods excitedly, beginning to gather up a pile of snow. Once it gets to the point where you need it to be taller you send her off to get some sticks and little rocks for the details. She comes back with an armful of twigs with happy laughs and beyond excited to show you some cool rocks she found.

Jeno joins you both to add his scarf to the snowman. Your daughter giggles happily, "It's daddy!"

Jeno laughs cheerfully and calls her over so they can start making more snowmen, one small one, and one more that was "adult size." The small one gets your daughter's scarf and the remaining one of course gets yours when your daughter waddles over to ask for your hat and scarf.

"Look at that baby! Who did you make?" You ask her with a smile.

She claps her hands, the sound muffled by her gloves, "It's me, mommy, and daddy." She begins to babble on and on about how she made them, how many sticks she found, her cool rocks, a dog she saw earlier, how she saw a snowman in a movie, and really- whatever else comes to mind.

Jeno comes up to you, wrapping his arm around your waist to tug you closer, "I think she liked the snow."

"So much she's trying to eat it again," you chuckle, watching her form a small clump of snow and lick it.

Jeno runs to her, "Not again! Leave it on the ground!"

-

tagging! @jaeminnanaaa17 enjoy more dad!nct dream :)

[pocketsizedq]

Mama Bear and Papa Bear

request;can you write where pregnant mom and quinn’s 3 year old toddler son go to watch quinns game against the devils with quinn’s parents and family friends. and everyone thinks his son is a miniature quinn personality and looks wise. and the little boy absolutely lovessss watching hockey and cheering on his dad and uncles but also kinda shy so he wants his mom next to him at all times and sometimes to carry him which is kinda hard bc she’s pregnant but quinn’s parents are a big help. and then when the games over quinn’s family and you guys all go out to dinner but now it’s kinda late so the toddlers kinda cranky but quinn is so soft and gentle with him during his tantrum 🥹

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rowden Jerome Hughes also known as the quinn clone as He can be seen with the same "i don't want to be here face." He is Quinn's made over, but was a certified mama's boy. You can always find him either snuggled into your side or near his wonderful mumu.

You were sitting in the stands with the wonderful Ellen and Jim also known to Rowden as Mumu and Coach which he came up with on his own and the little hughes was curled up next to your six months belly which was another little boy watching his dad playing against his uncles.

Rowden had on his little canucks jersey just like his dad's but instead of hughes on the back it said daddy with quinn's number on it and to support his uncle's he wore a little devils hat that Jack had gotten him.

if you asked him who his favorite uncle was he wouldn't tell you as he loves them both the same but if it's between you and me he always hugs luke first even though he was technically name after Jack so its fair.

Rowden has been glue to your side the whole game, but every now and then he will go to his mumu and sit with her for a bit while you go use the bathroom.

Both Jim and Ellen are heaven sent when Quinn is always busy and your pregnant with a 3 year old. They have really helped you out with everything you couldn't have asked for better in-laws.

You started really needing to use the bathroom now so you look down at your husbands mini me with a quiet voice "row would you be okay with sitting with mumu while mama goes and uses the bathroom"

Rowden just snuggled into your side more which made the baby inside you kick so you put your hand on your stomach which catches the queen attention.

"sweetie are you alright" she spoke looking at you which you nod looking at her and Ellen notices your struggle with Rowden as she almost is remind of when quinn use to do something like this when she was pregnant with her second oldest.

Ellen notices her oldest son known as rowden dad about to try and score a goal. She does quick thinking and says "row daddy's on how about you go let mama use the bathroom and you can watch daddy"

Rowden nods his head quickly moving away from you so you can go use the bathroom.

Rowden and Mumu watch as his dad scores a goal to which he lets out a big scream clapping his hands screaming daddy.

From where they were sitting they couldn't see it but quinn had the biggest grin on his face hearing his little voice chant his name he gave him.

Quinn only had three soft spots. One was for his parents. Second was for his brothers and lastly You and His nearly two sons.

He was overjoyed when he found out he was going to be a dad especially having kids with the love of his life that he married just four years ago and you were just a bit younger than jack.

As the game went on the devils won, but Rowden didn't care about that as he got to watch his dad pay against his uncle while also spending time with his grandparents.

As Ellen and Jim went to wait out in the car while you rally up their sons to dinner as it was around eight o'clock which also might mean rowden will have a hissy fit if he doesn't get to bed soon.

The first one to come out of one of the locker rooms was luke as he was one of the ones to hit the showers first which meant he would be on rowden holding duties.

Luke made his way out of the locker room where he spotted you and his favorite nephew well his only nephew came waddle his way over to the over six foot tall guy doing grabby hands.

He lets out a soft chuckle leaning over picking up the boy who resembles his older brother while saying "hey there row row did you enjoy the game.

Rowden nods sleepily letting out a big yawn when another voice comes into the conversation "aww is row sleepy?"

Rowden nods snuggling into luke while Jack makes his way over to you saying "How are things going mama bear."

Ellen was the one who started the "mama bear" nickname as she always noticed when her and her husband always came over to Quinn and Your's house that you would make sure they had their dinner first before serving yourself like mama bears cold porriage.

"I'm okay J you and luke both played well tonight. Rowden was the one screaming his lungs out when you scored." You said which made Jack chuckle knowing Rowden loves the games just like his dad,uncles and grandpa.

Jack and you talked until you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist which you know all too well and as you felt a kiss on your cheek you softly smile.

----------------

As you all get sat at table in the back that when all hell broke loose when rowden started fighting with you about sitting in a high chair then started begging for coke.

Quinn got up from his seat witnessing his little boy burst out into tear and start having a hissy fit which broke his heart.

"bud how about this you can sit in daddy's lap and we can get you sprite but you can only have alittle bit okay?" he spoke to the pouty face boy with brown little curls falling into his face which he pushed them back.

Quinn wipes his son's eyes as he repiles with a nod letting his dad pick him up and soothe him knowing he's just tired and if he's tired he knew you were.

Quinn went back to the table sitting in his sit with his little boy in his arms gently rubbing his back as he sniffs while quinn orders his food while you put your head on his shoulder.

You were so very grateful to have a wonderful husband who loves you as their own.

[vampiretendencies]

jj being on hair duty for all the kids while you’re cooking breakfast, and he has his spray and brush in hand while he does the boys hair, then he’s just like “pigtails today for my miss maybank?” and she just squeals because she can’t even talk

so sweet n domestic luv it :,) dad!jj, children are a boy and girl.

he’d come beaming down the stairs with his usual dimpled grin, what’s not to adore about the family that he’d hoped for. dressed for work, acquiring a job that has him working with his hands, perhaps a mechanic. the thick material, hugging his bulky body so tightly.

you are the first to receive his good morning greeting, from behind of course. breakfast on the stove, yet all he could do was breathe in the scent of the otherworldly being in front of him. feeling it flood his airways, with a sensation of relief and calamity.

“morning baby,” he’d mumble into the deepest nook of your neck, fingers gliding evenly over the surface that was your hips. "so pretty," he complimented, despite the nest of tousled tresses on your head and the sleep still ridden in your features. peppering repeated kisses to your temple. really, though is was his way of buttering you up before evenly snatching a piece of bacon of off the plate, knowing full well the rule was everyone eats together.

"jj, put it back!"

the piece of meat hangs from his mouth, with hands lifted in innocence before he slaps a serene smack to your ass causing a fit of laughter from the two children behind him. oldest, aka jj's shadow— the three year old boy, who idolized his father as though he could do no wrong. youngest, the girl reigning in at one. sat close to the island on their bar stools, waiting partially impatient by their plates for food.

"you two better stop laughing before you end up in time out with him, now get on hair duty, maybank."

"yes ma'am!"

every occurrence that its jj's turn to tame the children's hair he always looks at it in a foreign matter. because he doesn't manage his, priding on the fact that "water works wonders for his hair." the baby's thin bright blonde locks were growing so much so that recently her hair can go up, he misses the days when he could just brush it and be done. but you insist it has be styled. he maps out the the hairstyle excessively, his large hand almost suffocating the little pink brush.

"hm what'll be today sweet girl? pigtails today for miss maybank?"

peering over your shoulder from the stove an ear to ear smile is plastered on her alike dimpled features. and she simply can't contain it, so overbearing with affection for her father that this little gesture is erupting a fit of squeals from her lungs. somehow growing more and more honored with everytime jj touched her head, it was as if she thought she was in the presence of royalty.

"she loves it, j," you grin back at her, whilst a delighted smirk is on jj's face.

"course, she does baby look who's doing it," he curves the brush the form one half of the hairstyle. "momma's not a pro at this like daddy huh princess?"

you shake your his in disbelief as he just always has something pest like to say.

"me next dad!" the boy clapped his hands, cheering for jj.

[its-all-papaya]

heyyyy there has been a ~buzz~ on the dash with all the landoscar + children content this week and it feels like a good time to remind the tag that I’ve got a ~70k driver!oscar / single dad!lando fic in the works, hopefully dropping towards the end of this month. wanted to give you all a little snippet AND start a tag list for when i post the first chapter so :,) comment if you’d like to be tagged when this debuts ! and enjoy, hopefully, a peek at dad lando:

“Uncle Max!” she props one hand on Lando’s knee while she points with the other at the McLaren. It’s not, obviously, but she can’t tell helmets apart and he never really has the heart to point out when she’s right or wrong about whose car is whose. He finds he sort of wants to, though, as he watches Oscar edge closer, start nibbling at the margin. It’s an odd feeling. It doesn’t matter, she doesn’t know the difference and won’t until someone’s standing on the podium, but it spins in Lando’s belly all the same. But then, he’s never really given a second thought to Max’s teammate, never really cared where they finished. Not when it was Danny, and not about Oscar until now.

It isn’t on the straight that Oscar makes the move. It’s on the exit. A beautiful, smooth glide around the racing line until he’s clear through the corner. Lando watches his name marker swap places in the standings with Sainz’ and the feeling in his stomach blooms into something near to what he probably would feel if it were Max. Different, though. Pride, probably, but also a twisty category of excitement, a little embarrassing, a little thrill. Like a crush, Lando’s stupid brain supplies, even though he most definitely did not ask.

“He did it!” Emma’s clapping, looking up at Lando to affirm her excitement.

“He did!” Lando bumps knuckles with her when she offers. Oscar did it, he thinks

McLaren undercuts. Ferrari pushes Leclerc too far on mediums. With less than three laps to go, Lando watches Oscar slip around on the outside, and a handful of minutes later, he watches both papaya cars follow Verstappen to the checkered flag – 2-3, a double podium.

Emma cheers over the commentary on the cool-down, all the way into parc fermé, when the podium sitters start climbing out of their cars. Lando’s heart is beating hard again for reasons he does not care to examine, and he’s more than a little distracted from whatever Emma’s saying about the finish.

“Daddy,” she plants both hands on his thigh and rocks her weight back and forth. Her voice is bordering on whiny, so Lando snaps his focus back where it belongs and blinks at her.

“What, baby?”

“He’s three?” little fingers up again, always.

“Yeah,” Lando nods, eyes back on the screen. Oscar’s working on his helmet, tugging the strap, and Lando remembers with stunning clarity the way those fingers had burned in his brain for no logical reason a week ago. Oscar’s just through pulling his balaclava off when Max appears from the side of the screen to clap his hand in congratulations, and Lando realizes- “Wait, no,” he covers Emma’s hands with one of his own, “Uncle Max is two, Em, he got ahead of the Ferrari. Sorry.”

“Oh,” she sucks her lip into her mouth for a second ahead of a grin, “Oh! Two is better!”

“Yep,” Lando looks down at her again, forcing his brain to cooperate for both of their sakes, “Two is really good. He’s gonna be really happy."

[radiant-reid]

okay but dad!spencer taking paternity leave?! would that not be the cutest thing in the world?

the absolute cutest, i've got to expand

"I'm home!" You call out when you come through the front door, placing your bag on the side table and taking your shoes off.

Spencer comes down the hallway to meet you in the foyer, wrapping you in a hug. "Hi, honey. Missed you."

You grin before pulling back to quickly kiss him. "Missed you too, baby. And there's the actual baby." You coo, looking down the hallway at where she's making a fast crawl down across the hardwood floor.

She must have recognized your voice, probably sensed the excited tone in Spencer's voice, and came crawling.

You kneel down, reaching out for her. "My sweet girl, come here."

She crawls to you, using your legs to stabilize herself while she stands up. "Momma, up!"

"Maisie!" You cheer back, swooping her up into your arms. "You've been good for Daddy today?"

"You're always good for Daddy, aren't you?" Spencer says as he takes her little baby fingers and pretends to bite them. It makes her giggle in your arms at his playfulness. "You wanna show Momma our new trick?" He asks her, sounding more eager himself.

You love getting to see their new tricks, even if they're just Spencer pretending to chew at her fingers. "Okay, let's go."

"It needs extra equipment." He tells you, hyping it up with recognizable joy like whatever it is, is the most amazing thing in the world.

Maisie must realize what Spencer's rambling about because she starts babbling as you enter the living room. You notice the blocks on the floor, arranged in a tower that there's no way she could touch the top of.

"Come here, baby." He says, reaching out for Maisie. You hand her over, patiently waiting for their trick. He supports her with one hand on her stomach and the other on her legs like she's having tummy time. She appears to know her role in their rehearsed trick and holds out her arms in front of her with a mischievous look in her eyes.

Spencer pushes her forward and she puts all her force into knocking the tower over, blocks scattering over the rug.

Her laughter is instantaneous and so wild you'd believe it was the funniest thing in the world to her, and it's too contagious a sound for you not to also laugh. Spencer's laughing with you, clearly proud for inspiring such joy in her.

"That was amazing!" You say, clapping at her. "The best trick I've ever seen."

Spencer pulls her back upright, kissing her cheek to celebrate their victory. "I agree. That laugh is better than any magic trick of mine." He rests his forehead against hers while she puts her tiny baby palms on his cheeks. "You're just such a smart girl, aren't you?"

"So smart." You agree. "Just like her Daddy."

"I guess I am smart." Spencer shrugs, moving to sit down next to you with Maisie in his lap. "For marrying the most beautiful woman alive."

You grin at his compliment so he knows it's received, appreciated, and your next comment is just a joke. "And those three PhDs."

He chuckles. "Still, I think that being about to seal the deal with you is the most impressive."

You look around the room at the happy space you've created, where even the worst days don't feel too bad, and then back at him, the love of your life. "This is really the whole deal, isn't it?"

"It truly is."

[lowkeyremi]

Haikyuu men as fathers pt 4.

Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3

100 follower special!! THANK YOU GUYS!!

Ft. Semi, Aran, Noya, Akaashi

The age range of the kids will differ for each character but it’s from babies up til like 17 or 18

CW: Indication of pregnancy, relationships, marriage, and certain styles of parenting

Enjoy lovelies <33

………………..

Semi Eita:

“That’s it sweetheart, keep going.” Semi coos at his 3 year old who is playing a little pink guitar (for children) she’s singing the words to You Are My Sunshine while Semi was recording her.

Why? Well, to cheer you up. Your friend was going through some really hard stuff that made you feel very upset so you went to help her out. Meaning Semi was to take care of your sweet toddler.

“Shunshine, you are mah shunshine!” She sung happily, Semi couldn’t bring himself to correct her wording. “You make me happy- uh what rest of da words daddy?” She asks still strumming the guitar out of tune.

He whispers the words as not to interrupt the video, “when skies are gray.”

“When skies are gway!” She sets the guitar down after singing that line.

“Daddy I done, send to Mommy.” She says eagerly and he chuckles. Your long time boyfriend (now fiancé) stops the recording and sends it to you.

“I think mommy will love this video.” He says holding his arms out for Kana to sit in his lap.

“I hope it make her feel happy, you think she really like it?” Kana asks playing with her small fingers.

“I think she’ll love it, would you like to play the piano, my dear?” Your home is filled with a bunch of instruments and Semi loves letting his little girl choose something each day to try to see if she’ll be a musical genius.

“Hmmm,” she taps her chin and responds, “I wanna play drums.” He moves his hair out of his face and picks his daughter up to take her to the music room where Semi works on songs and holds practice for his band.

“Drums it is!” He says and Kana claps her hands and does a little cheer.

Half way through their drum session Semi gets a phone call from you. When he picks it up he puts it in speaker.

“Hey baby, you’re on speaker.” He informs.

“Hey,” you say sounding tired. “Where’s my sweet pumpkin who sung for me?” You ask over the phone. Kana sets down the drum sticks and practically runs over to Semi’s phone.

“Me! It’s me mommy!” She says bouncing up and down.

“Thank you Kana, that made mommy feel much better.” You tell her which makes her giggle.

“Thank you mommy! What else I sing?” She asks. Your precious three year old is definitely ready to sing another song for you.

“How about row, row, row your boat?” You asked knowing it was an easy song that Kana knew.

“OO! OKAY!” She took a deep breath and started to sing.

“Row, row, row-” she stopped and you planned to ask her why but she answers the question that doesn’t come out of your mouth.

“Daddy! Why you not singing? Mommy loves when Daddy sings!” She practically scolds.

His deep chuckle is heard on your end. “Sorry, sorry. Let’s sing it together.”

Your two most precious people sing Row, Row, Row Your Boat. You felt better by the end of it. After Kana talked to you for a bit Semi dismissed her to play the drums while he chatted with you for awhile.

In the end you two talk about how precious your beautiful daughter is.

he sings his little girl to sleep as often as he can

they make up new songs together all the time 🥺

DREADS leaving for concerts

omg he loves it when u guys come to his concerts

he'll be like "shout out to my beautiful wife and baby girl who made this opportunity possible"

tbh he's lost ur daughter a few times " oh shit... i thought she was w you"

he has his two fav girls tatted on his shoulders

Aran Ojiro:

Fifteen year old Mei walked over to her father, she noticed him rubbing his temples.

"You okay, Daddy?" ahe asked worried for him.

"Yeah I'm good baby girl, momma and i just got into again. We'll make up with each other, though." Aran explains rubbing his goatee.

Mei walks over to him and gives him a hug.

"I'm sorry, Daddy. It's not your fault that I got dress coded." Aran didn't say anything in return, he was sighs realizing how unaware he was when arguing with you.

"I talked to momma about it, you didn't know the skirt was too short. It looks a lot like my other one, right?" She states.

He was starting to realize how childish the argument was. Mei's school is very strict so the fact the skirt was two inches shorter than it needed to be was beyond Aran's understanding. He hadn't even noticed the difference.

It only became a problem because you had to leave work to pick up Mei. Aran couldn't because he had a game. When he came home you started arguing with him. He argued back because you pinned the blame on him. After all, he was responsible for getting Mei and Koro to school.

"Yeah it does. Is Koro sleep?" He asks his daughter.

"I put him down before y'all started arguing." She says retracting from the hug.

"I'm really sorry, I don't like when you and momma fight." Aran frowns, you two have been fighting more often than usual.

"I know baby, I think momma is stressed with a lotta stuff. I mean she's finally back from maternal leave, she's working toward a promotion, and some other things. I just gotta be more mindful."

Before Mei can respond you emerge from upstairs, "Go on Mei, momma needs to talk to daddy in private." It doesn't go unnoticed how Mei gives her dad a thumbs up before making her way upstairs.

"Aran, baby, i'm sorry.. Mei told me what happened." You say quietly. You had no idea what you were expecting but it wasn't your husband holding his arms out for you.

He embraces you quietly for a few minutes. and then he responds.

"I know things have been rough lately. I just want you to know, I still love you." He explains softly.

That shouldn't have made you tear up but it did.

"I love you too, Aran. Always." You say mirroring his previous statement.

SUCH A GOOD COOK

He was amazing helping you thru pregnancy i mean that man worked his ass off

You two agreed on no more kids after Mei but Koro came long sooooo

He loves both his babies dearly, he doesn't have a fav

Hates arguing with you :((

Not allowed to take them to stores cuz he's weak to their puppy dog eyes

He's 100% a dad superhero to his kids

Nishinoya Yuu:

Noya stared down his toddler. The little man started babbling very loudly.

"Don't you get an attitude with me, Akio. You think you're so high and mighty cuz, you're the result of my sperm!" He says in a teasing voice.

"Nishinoya Yuu he is two years ol-" you were cut off by your son.

"Sp-erm!" he says and claps. Noya mutters an 'oopsie' and you glare at him. "Yuu! Stop saying stuff like that in front of him," you scold.

"Well, tell him to stop copying me." Akio looks at his dad, "Stop, stop, stoooooooooop." You couldn't help but giggle it was so interesting seeing your son find his voice.

"Bye bye. Akio go bye bye." He says struggling to get down from the couch. Once he's down he starts running towards the bathroom.

"Yuu, make sure he's going potty and not playing in toilet water... again." Noya makes his way to the bathroom. After a few second you hear a groan followed by, "Akio, noooooo."

Your son can be heard laughing followed by, "daddy, noooooo."

"Dude toilet water is not something to play with." Noya sighs.

"Fuck you!" The two year old yells and you gasp loudly.

"Huh, wonder where you learned that, kid." Noya chuckled sheepishly.

"Nishinoya Yuu!" You yell and he comes into the dining room with your cute little trouble maker who had nothing on besides his pull-up.

"Ooooo daddy get trouble."

Noya begins muttering, "I don't- he must've... Tanaka..." you tap your foot and your two year old giggles.

"Tanaka what? Speak up, babe." you say with your arms crossed.

"Tanaka and I were watching a volleyball game with Akio and we were betting... the team I was betting on won so tanaka screamed f you when my team won by one point." Noya explains.

"Akio, that's a no no word, okay? We don't say everything we hear others say." You scold your son because not only is it Noya's fault it's his fault too.

"Otay mommy." Noya puts your little menace down.

"Let's go get you bathed little dude." He says smuggly.

"Good idea." When they're out of ears reach you sigh rather loudly.

You love your two guys but it can be tiring when your husband stoops to a two year old's level.

The type to be like "you want a piece of me little man?"

More often than not instead of handling a situation normally he'll get on his son's level

He stopped traveling so often to settle down with you

He and his son are always getting into some form of trouble

He made your son think popsicles are a sustainable breakfast

Butttt when you're gone he does pull himself together and makes an amazing father

He and Akio take naps together, being a menace is not easy work

Akaashi Keiji:

"No! The monster will get me!" Ami yells as she runs away from Bokuto.

"Papa save me!" She yells out to Akaashi.

"Honey, your Uncle Bokuto isn't a monster." he explains.

Bokuto pouts at Ami's reaction, any time he's over she gets scared. The scared little girl crawls into her father's lap for comfort. Akaashi rubs her little back and she hugs him close.

"I don't try to be scarey, Ami. I brought you candy!" Bokuto exclaims with the candy in his hand. It seems to work for a second because she turns her head to look at him. He smiles at her and she makes a small 'hmph' and nuzzles her head in her father's stomach.

"Come on, bun. Don't be shy, your uncle is really cool.." his voice lowers and he mutters, "at least most of the time he is." Ami hears this and giggles.

"Okay papa... you gotta hold my hand though, just in case." She says shyly.

Akaashi nods his head confirming he'll listen to his daughter's request. She cautiously approaches Bokuto. He holds out the candy for her to take, without hesitation the young girl grabs the candy and remembers her manners.

"Thank.. you." she says to bokuto. He beams at her and nods.

"That's my girl, you've got great manners." Akaashi says with a very small smile.

Everyone turns their head to the door because they hear it unlocking. "Ami, mommy's home with the kitten!" You yell.

Ami jumps up and down quickly forgetting she was even scared, "What did the vet say?! Will Popcorn be okay?!" She asks all at once.

"The vet said Popcorn has perfect health." Ami squeals in excitement. She runs over to the carrier to open it up so her kitten could come out.

Akaashi looks at his daughter in awe, "she's just like you." You know who he's refering to. He believes that your daughter looks more like you but you think it's the opposite.

"Papa come hold Popcorn!" Ami says. Akaashi walked toward the cat carrier and picked up the kitten. Ami was a giggling mess.

"Akaashi! I always knew you'd make a good father!" Bokuto exclaims dramatically.

"Huh, you really think so?" Akaashi asks and Bokuto can't get a word in because you're quick to interrupt.

"We know so!" Well, everyone knows so. Akaashi is calm and rational after all. He completes you and your daughter.

Stay at home dad (i don't make the rules)

His daughter is a daddy's girl

He initially said no to a kitten but you and your daughter begged until he said yes

Pretty calm in most situations

Surprisingly didn't freak out when he found out you were pregnant

He did so much research on how to be a dad because he didn't wanna mess up

VERY protective of his daughter

He bakes with his daughter as a hobby

[onskepa]

Left behind: Prologue

Here is the first of many chapters for the long awaited series! Enjoy!

Left behind series

----------------

Jake’s pov

Earth has always been our home. Us, humans. And like parasites, we leeched off of our provider. Always wanting more and never getting our fill. And now, what made us humans, is dying. There is little to no chance of saving it. 

As earth dies, so does the human spirit. Over mass population, consumption, greed. It is clearly taking a toll on all of us. Whenever something pure, something untouched is found, the greed of humanity taints it. Corrupt it. 

As is the youth of our children. 

With what hopes and dreams the kids have are instantly killed. The adults are blunt and cut throat in telling kids today there is no hope for earth. Being molded to think one way, molded to be fitted in a box and not have any form of creativity. To think of a certain way. 

And it is disgusting. 

Third  POV 

After a nasty fight at the bar, Jake went home. He got the money, less than last week but it's enough for the both of them. 

Yes, both. 

After being discharged from the marines after his life changing incident, Jake sully didn't have a clear vision of what to do. Learning that his new life will contain him in a wheelchair, Jake's mind darkened and stayed like that for a while. Dull and colorless were his day. 

Would go to bars and make a fool of himself if it meant getting some attention and money for more booze. Made many mistakes in his dark days. Mistakes that aren't so easy to take back. Many regrets and doubts. But there was one thing that Jake would never see as an accident or a mistake, was his only reason to live. 

His daughter. 

A little angel sent from above to take him out of his dark days. 

Jake could barely remember the women he spent the night that conceived his child. Some faceless lady that gifted him his child. Really the only good thing left in his life. And because of his little star, did Jake push on. Still not making good choices, but hard ones to make it by.

Jake’s pov

The door opened and I pushed myself inside. Home sweet home. A small apartment, not the best, but its plenty. 

“Daddy daddy daddy!!” I can hear my little girl call out to me. 

Turning, I caught her just in time. Quickly climbing on my lap, her little arms hugging me. “I missed you daddy!” she tells me. I couldn't help but smile widely. My little angel, my little star, a gift from above. 

“Oooh I missed you too, have you been good for Misses Morve?” I asked her, moving her little messy hair away to look at her beautiful blue eyes. She nodded fast. And on cue, the kind lady we have as our neighbor came to us. 

A nice little old lady across from our door. 

“She has been so good, I am surprised she hasn't caused any trouble, '' Misses Morve tells me. “Thank you, you don't have to watch over her tomorrow. I'm staying in” I was informed. Saying our farewells, she left our place. 

My little girl turned back to me, “daddy! I saw on the hologram that the tigers came back from the dead! I saw them and they looked so cuuuuuuute!!” 

Animals has always been her favorite thing to learn about. I buy second hand books for her. School has become too expensive for an average family. So I try my best to teach her what I know. 

“Really? Maybe one day we can go see them together” I tell her. Her eyes sparkle in excitement, cheering and clapping. Letting her chat away of what we can do should one day we go to the zoo. 

I know it might not happen, but nothing wrong with giving a little hope right? 

Third pov 

As the father-daughter duo chatted, a sudden knock was hard on the door. Both stood silent, misses Morve just left, Jake wasn't expecting anyone else. 

Jake gave his daughter a look and quickly she left to go hide in a cabinet. Jake grabs a gun hidden from a shelf and preps it. As he got closer, another knock was heard. “Who is it?” he asks loudly. 

“Is this Jake sully’s residence?” A voice was heard. 

“Who are you?” Jake asks. 

“We are from the RDA. We came to look for Jake sully. It is urgent we speak to him”. 

Aaaaaaaand that is all for this one! Hope you all like it cause there will be more chapters in the future! Until next time! see ya!

[buckys-wintersoldier]

Adoption | Steve Rogers; part two

Pairing -> Husband!Steve Rogers x Wife!Mom!Reader

Summary -> After Eva asked Steve to adopt her and he happily said yes, you’re inside with your friends and family to finally tell them about the adoption.

Warnings -> (G) none, just fluff

Wordcount -> 2.1k

Prompt -> Fandom-Free Bingo | I3 | Shoulder kisses | @fandom-free-bingo | AFG Fluff Bingo | N4 | “For all time. Always.” | @anyfandomfluffbingo

Request -> I loved the adoption story!!! It was so cute!!! 😍 I can 100% see Steve crying as the documents are signed and Bucky wearing a 'fun-cle' shirt and thumping him on the back to get him through it lol 😆

A/N -> Thank you so much for your kind words, it really means a lot and I’m glad you loved the oneshot. I thought of making a second part with your ask so here we are. I want to thank @lives-in-midgard for helping me with some parts.

Masterlist | Fandom-Free Bingo | AFG Fluff Bingo | Steve Rogers Masterlist | Adoption Part 1

When the three of you are in front of your friends and family, Steve holds the piece of paper in the air. His smile is almost from one side of his face to the other, and his hand is around Eva’s shoulder, making sure she is really close to him.

“She wants me to adopt her,” he says proudly, and the others, the Avengers, clap into their hands while they all cheer loudly. “And I said yes,” he adds, kissing the head of your daughter before letting go of her so she can go to Natasha.

Natasha is a lot older than Eva, but she is like her big sister combined with her best friend. And your daughter always tells her everything, sometimes before she tells you, but you don’t mind; you understand the way she loves the red-haired woman. And Natasha couldn’t be someone better for her as she is; she helps Eva a lot and has every time for the little girl when she wants attention or just cuddles.

“I asked him, and he said yes." She almost shouts and throws her small arms around Natasha's neck.

She laughs softly, wrapping her arms around Eva and lifting her to walk to the couch to sit down. Placing the girl on her lap and listening to every detail Eva wants to tell her.

You turn to Steve; he still has some tears in the corner of his eyes, and you understand it. You would probably feel the same way when the child of your partner asks you to adopt them.

Your husband places the paper on the counter next to him and smiles at you. His eyes brighten when he looks a short moment over your shoulder to see the little girl happily talking about the situation outside with the adoption.

“I didn’t know this year could start that well,” he mumbles. “I thought I’m already the happiest man on earth or in the universe, multiverse, with a wife like you and a little girl like Eva,” he adds, and you see the tears of joy in his eyes getting more again.

Before you can say anything, you hear Bucky shouting from the other side of the room. He immediately gets the attention of Steve and you.

“Daddy Stevie,” he says and walks closer, opening his arms to welcome the two of you into his embrace.

You adore Bucky; he is the most wonderful uncle, next to the others, for your little daughter. But even though the others are like uncles for her, Bucky is a bit of a special uncle.

When he met Eva the first time, he immediately accepted her, which is a surprise because the man with the steel blue eyes, slightly curly brown hair, and metal arm is known for being grumpy. But the little girl has his heart; whenever she is there, he is laughing with her, joking around, and the grumpy Bucky isn’t there. And Eva loves the man as well, not only his metal arm but also his strength, his jokes, and the way he treats her and takes care of her in the most beautiful way he can as an uncle.

Bucky comes to a halt when he stands in front of you and Steve. He covers his t-shirt with his arms, but you see something on it. It could be something the two of you talked about, but you’re not sure until he lets his arms fall down and reveals the words on the t-shirt.

‘Fun-cle’

like a dad, only cooler

See also: handsome, exceptional.

Fun uncle

You laugh softly when you read it, because it’s exactly what you were talking about. Bucky loved the idea of getting one of those when Steve gets the adoption papers; he really bought one of those t-shirts.

“Let me show you something else,” he says with a mischievous grin on his lips.

Bucky pulls up the shirt and reveals another one; he was hiding it under the fabric of the shirt, but now he hands Steve the other t-shirt. Your husband hesitates for a moment before he looks at it. He holds it up in front of you, and when you read the phrases on it, you burst out laughing.

‘Just the dad’

like the fun-cle but not as cool as he

See also: strict, boring.

The dad

“I designed it,” Bucky says proudly when Steve looks at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“Strict and boring?” he asks, getting a nod from his best friend.

“Wanna bet who she loves more?"

Bucky looks at Steve with a grin on his lips. Then he places his hand on Steve's shoulder.

“Don’t worry, pal. She loves you a lot; otherwise, she wouldn’t ask you to be his dad. But let’s be honest, she would say yes to me too; you just got y/n; that’s why you can be Eva’s dad,” Bucky jokes, and Steve shakes his head about the silliness before he remembers the piece of paper.

“I still need to sign it,” he mumbles, looking to the side where the paper is lying.

“But first, we’re going to change your t-shirt,” Bucky says emphatically.

Steve rolls his eyes slightly and kisses your shoulder and your neck a few times. His breath meets your skin, and you feel the goosebumps all over your body. Your husband chuckles before he lets go of you and walks with Bucky out of the room to change the t-shirt.

“Eva, could you come here for a moment?” you ask when you turn to your daughter.

She looks at you before she nods and kisses Natasha’s cheek softly. The red-haired woman smiles and turns around to talk to someone else while Eva walks towards you.

“Uncle Bucky will tell you a funny story about your dad when you say that Bucky is the best,” you tell your little daughter, and the mischievous grin on her face says everything she thinks right now.

“You and Uncle Bucky want to annoy Daddy, right?” she asks. “I knew; you looked at me like that,” Eva tells you.

Before you can say anything, Steve and Bucky walk back into the room. They both wear the shirts Bucky bought for them. Steve chuckles when he sees your daughter with a huge smile next to you.

“Hey, princess,” Bucky says, opening his arms for his favorite girl.

She runs into his arms and hugs him tightly. He places his big hands on her small back and holds her against him while he grins at Steve.

“My favorite girl, huh?" Bucky says, and Eva immediately nods.

“You’re my absolute favorite and the best uncle, Bucky,” she says and looks up at him, knowing she will annoy her dad with it.

"See, Stevie, I told you.”

Steve rolls his eyes and looks at you. The way he looks at you shows you that he exactly knows what you told her.

“What does she get for saying that?” Steve asks, and you shrug, pretending like you don’t know what he is talking about.

He walks a step closer and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close against him. You can feel his hot breath against your sensitive skin and his fingers digging into your waist, and he looks at you with a huge smile.

“Don't you want to tell me? I’m pretty sure you will, at least when we’re in bed,” he mumbles into your ear, and you shiver slightly.

“I told her Bucky would tell her a story about you. And you know she uses every chance to annoy you when she can,” you explain, and your husband nods.

Bucky lifts the little girl and kisses her forehead a few times before he looks into Eva’s eyes.

“You have the same blue eyes as Uncle Bucky, don’t you?” he asks, and your daughter giggles happily.

“Mommy said you tell me a story when I say you’re the best,” she says as quietly as she can, so Steve wouldn’t understand her.

Bucky looks at you with a big smile on his lips before he shakes his head and walks with her to the table. He places her on top of it and stands between her small legs. Looking at Steve and showing him to finally sign the papers for the adoption.

“Don’t you want to sign up? I can do this for you too,” he shouts, and Eva grips the paper to wave them in front of Bucky's face.

“Can you sign those too?” She asks, looking with her big blue eyes at Bucky.

He shakes his head with a chuckle but takes the papers and hands them to Steve, who walks closer. Bucky turns to your little daughter again and tickles her while she tries to escape his grip. But the brown-haired man is way stronger, and she needs to beg while she laughs to make him stop.

“Oke the story about your dad,” Bucky starts and sees the expression of Steve, which definitely tells him he shouldn’t dare tell you about it. “When Steve was a little man, we were on Coney Island. And little Stevie thought a roller coaster was a good idea,” Bucky continues, and you almost burst out laughing when you remember the moment Steve told you about it.

“He loved those roller coasters, but after five times, he threw up in the middle of them. Luckily, we sat at the end of it, so it just landed on the ground and not in someone’s face." Bucky finishes his story, and your little daughter looks at Steve, finally knowing a story she can embarrass her dad with.

Steve rolls his eyes, and then he looks down at the papers. His hands are sweating and the tears are burning in his eyes, but he has a big smile on his lips. Just a signature away from being your little daughter's dad, a moment he waited so long for and you often talked about it.

Bucky sees the tears in the eyes of his best friend and places his hand on Steve's shoulder. His thumb rubs slowly over Steve’s back.

With a deep breath, the blond-haired man smiles and looks at his daughter next to him before he reaches for a pen and puts his signature under the text on the paper. Then he can’t stop the tears anymore when he looks up and into the smiling face of his little girl.

You love to see her smiling at him. And you’re glad you married Steve; you can’t imagine a better father for your daughter than him. And you wouldn’t choose someone else when you could, never. Steve shows you a part of yourself you would have never known when he wasn't there. A part that is always happy and loved. You try not to cry as well when you see your husband crying, but a few tears roll down your cheek when you realize how lucky you are.

“Don’t cry, or I need to cry as well, pal,” Bucky mumbles, wiping a small tear away.

Eva chuckles while he wraps his arms around Bucky's neck and kisses his nose.

“It’s oke uncle Buck; men can cry too,” Eva says, smiling encouragingly at him.

You can’t stop yourself from laughing; with your hands, you hold your stomach. Steve smiles too, while Bucky shakes his head softly before he kisses Eva’s forehead.

“Your daddy is crying too,” he says, looking to the side.

Eva follows him and sees her dad crying too. She lets go of Bucky and pats his head before she opens her little arms for Steve. He immediately wraps his arms around her and lifts her up, spinning her around the way she loves and making her giggle.

“You’re my little princess, huh? For all time. Always,” he chuckles and kisses her cheek before he spins her around even more.

“I’m daddy’s princess and a plane; look, uncle Tony. UNCLE TONY LOOK,” she shouts and opens her arm.

Tony and the other Avengers laugh and cheer, shouting some congratulations through the room. You walk closer to Bucky, looking at him.

“What’s up, doll?” he asks.

“Thank you for always being here for us. And I’m glad I asked you to be her godfather; you’re definitely the best,” you tell him, and his smile grows.

Bucky wraps one of his arms around your shoulder and the other around Steve, who is standing with Eva in his arm on the other side of him. He pulls you close, and it doesn’t take long for the others to join that hug.

“You knew they would make a sandwich out of us,” you giggle, and Bucky nods with a wink at you.

“But you like it,” Steve says, and you roll your eyes, making your little daughter giggle even more.

“Yeah, I love it.”

“And I love you.” You blush when he looks at you, and you feel nothing but happiness inside of you.

This is your family and your home. With all those chaotic people, they are your chaotic people.

Taglist: @nicoline1998enilocin | @sergeantbarnessdoll | @km-ffluv | @identity2212 | @kandis-mom | @felicitylemon | @cjand10 | @bookishtheaterlover7 | @rogersbarber | @lives-in-midgard | @lunaalovesyouu | @jae0515

[whatsnewalycat]

Designated Person | Chapter 8

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 8: Invitation

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 10.3k+

Content / Warnings: Frankie POV, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship, angst, food, AA meeting mention, jealousy, alcoholism, lying, conflict avoidance, crying, unprotected piv sex, dirty talk, internal conflict, suggestion of sexual assault, trauma response, verbal argument, we're gonna pretend i know what i'm talking about w the criminal justice system but lets be real i don't

Notes: HEY HI! First of all big thanks to @frannyzooey for beta reading for me, I appreciate you with all my heart. Ok so up until a few days ago, this chapter was going to be this plus the birthday party. But I made an executive decision I think it will be better. So here's this and just know I already have a pretty solid head start on the next chapter lol. ANYWAY let me know what you think, ok love u bye.

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“…Happy birthday, dear Sarah, happy birthday to you!”

Sarah’s pudgy little feet patter in place on the seat of the dining room chair. Frankie rubs her back and says, “Blow out the candles!”

“Wait sweetie, let me just,” Angie scoops Sarah’s long chestnut curls into a bundle, “Ok go ahead.”

She leans over the small, two-tiered cake and blows them out one at a time.

“One… Two… Fwee… Four!”

All three of them cheer as the ribbons of black smoke dissipate into the air. Sarah claps her hands and squeals, looking up at her parents with big, sparkling eyes. Frankie can’t wipe the smile from his face. His heart aches with adoration.

While Ang plucks the spent candles from the cake and cuts it into sixteenths, Frankie takes a seat next to his daughter and asks, “Did you have a good day today?”

“Yes,” Sarah nods, watching her mom slip a chef’s knife under the biggest slice of cake and plop it onto a plate. Angie slides the plate in front of her and gives her a fork.

“What was your favorite part?” he asks.

“Ummm,” Sarah stabs the chocolate sponge cake with her fork and manages to tear off a wobbly chunk, “The penguins.”

“The penguins! I never woulda guessed,” Frankie chuckles, glancing up at Angie when she hands him a plate, “Thanks, hun.”

Sarah carves a line into the air with her nose, a smile digging out dimples in her chubby cheeks.

“Got to stay at the aquarium for a long time today, huh? What kind of penguins did we see?”

“Mmm,” she pauses her attack on the cake to scrunch her face up and think about this, then resumes as she tells him, “King penguin… rockhopper penguin… emperor penguin… little penguin…”

“So many penguins!” he grins.

She giggles, “Yes.”

“And then we got pizza, and opened presents, and now we’re having cake.”

She wriggles around in her seat and giggles some more, “Yes.”

“That’s a good birthday, huh?”

Sarah nods and plunges a finger into the pink strawberry frosting.

“Use your fork, sweetie,” Angie reminds her, taking a seat adjacent to Frankie. 

Sarah sticks her finger in her mouth to clean off the frosting, then obediently picks up the fork.

“What should we do after cake?” he asks Sarah before taking a bite. 

The little girl hums thoughtfully, tapping one confectionary-coated finger to her chin, “We can… watch Happy Feet?”

Her big, dark eyes sparkle, a mirror of his own, and Frankie grins from her to Angie, “What do you think, Mama, should we watch Happy Feet after cake?”

She checks the smartwatch on her wrist and shrugs, “Sure, we can watch it for a bit before dropping Daddy off.” 

A pleased smile spreads across Sarah’s face as she digs her fork into the cake. Frankie turns his attention to his own plate, and a content silence falls over the table as the three of them eat. 

The silence is broken when Sarah asks, “Daddy, why don’t you sleep here anymore?” 

He stops chewing and looks over at Angie, who just tilts her head at him like she, too, would like to know the answer to this question. 

“Well,” he swallows a mouthful of cake and clears his throat, “Daddy, uhh… Daddy did something bad and got in trouble with the police.” 

She frowns at her cake, seeming to consider this, then looks up at him,  “Like when you and Mommy were fighting?” 

The response zaps him. Stuns him. His lips part to respond, but he finds himself speechless. 

What the fuck is she talking about? 

He combs through his memory and hits a snag. 

They just got back from some kind of a trip. Ang was giving him the cold shoulder. He recalls drinking in the garage, fuming by himself, trying to work up the courage to confront her. Yelling. Not just him, though, Angie too. Both of them just fucking screaming at each other. Blue and red lights outside. Doorbell. Cops. 

The scraps of his memory bind together and he remembers… it wasn’t a trip they all went on together. It was just Angie and Sarah. Not a fun vacation, either. More of a spur-of-the-moment trip to her parents’ house in Texas, inspired by his recently uncovered infidelity. 

Wasn’t Sarah sleeping? How the fuck does she remember that? 

Frankie shifts in his seat, glancing at Angie, whose face is inscrutable, then back to Sarah, “No. Well, kind of, I guess. Except worse. They took me to jail.” 

Her dark eyes go wide, “But bad guys go to jail.”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

Leaning forward onto the table, he presses his fingertips to his lips and watches her sponge-like brain absorb this information. He’s getting into the weeds. Keep it simple. 

“They let me go, but now I have to have a babysitter like you do. That’s why I don’t sleep here,” he reaches over and tucks a loose ringlet behind her ear, “Does that make sense?”

Her brow furrows, “Is Chacha your babysitter?” 

Jesus fucking Christ, this kid. Asking all the right questions to make him squirm. 

“Yeah,” he nods, “Yeah, she’s pretty much my babysitter now—”

Angie scoffs. 

He shoots her a sharp glance, “Until we know how much trouble I’m in, at least.”

“I saw Chacha at the park,” Sarah informs him, as if he wasn’t there. 

The nickname makes him chuckle. She hasn’t used it in forever, now twice in one night? 

When he thinks about how your face will light up when he shares this news with you, warmth sparks in his guts. 

“You did see Chacha at the park,” he gives Sarah’s arm a playful pinch, “She told me she was happy to see you, and that she misses you.”

At this, Sarah giggles, dimples and all. 

And, at this, Angie shoves her chair out behind her and stomps out of the kitchen. Like a fucking child. 

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

The thought strikes him square between the eyes. Brief, but distinct. He sweeps it under the rug of his mind to deal with later. 

“Mommy don’t like her,” Sarah tells him in a loud whisper when the bedroom door slams closed.

He has to stifle laughter. 

“Don’t worry about that, princesa,” he waves off the petulant outburst, leaning in to ask, “Would you like it if Chacha came to your birthday party?”

Sarah studies him for a moment. When the question registers, she smiles wide and nods, “Yes.” 

“I’ll talk to Mommy about it later, ok?” 

“Ok.”

“Whaddaya think, should we finish our cake in the living room? Put on Happy Feet?” 

She giggles, hopping off the chair to spin in circles and clap her hands. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he snorts.

Once the birthday girl is sufficiently distracted, Frankie follows his wife’s warpath to their bedroom. He pauses at the closed door, hand hovering over the shiny knob, grimacing at what will follow. 

Did Sarah hear their whole argument that night? 

What else does she remember? 

Does she remember the days he’d call off work to take the two of you to the butterfly house? Or how he would sneak up behind you when you were cooking and kiss your neck? Does she remember you scrambling out of the house, half-naked, gasping for air, while Frankie held Angie back?

Probably not. 

Hopefully not. 

He takes a deep breath and twists the knob, pushing the door open. 

Inside, Angie is sitting at the foot of the bed, texting furiously. Frankie enters the room, closing the door behind him. He approaches cautiously and sits down beside her. Brings his hand to the small of her back. 

She doesn’t acknowledge his presence. 

“Amor,” he murmurs, sliding his palm up and down her rigid spine, “You can’t get pissed at me every time she comes up in conversation. It’s not—” 

He cuts himself off with a thick gulp. 

This catches her attention. She tosses her phone aside and blinks, “It’s not what? Not fair? Is that what you were gonna say?” 

“Fuck, I don’t know, Ang,” he shakes his head, leg bouncing, “It puts me in a weird spot. Whether you like it or not, she’s a part of my life—” 

“Oh, for fucks sake—”

“And—and Sarah, she picks up on that, you know? That you don’t like her—”

“I don’t give a shit if she knows I hate that bitch, Francisco,” Angie spits, “Why shouldn’t I, huh? Give me one good reason I shouldn’t.” 

Answers deadlock his throat. 

Because I care about her, and Sarah cares about her, and she cares about us. Because she has helped me more than any other human has, more times than I deserve. Because she saved my life, and you should be fucking grateful. 

The thought makes him shiver as it replays. 

You should be fucking grateful.

He tries to bypass the question, clearing his throat before taking Angie’s soft hand and meeting her eyes, “I know this arrangement has been hard for you.” 

Her features sharpen. She pulls away and crosses her arms in front of her chest. Unease rings out his stomach. 

But a sense of familiarity dawns on him, too.

It reminds him of conversations he’s had with you the past two months. Those “State of the Union” discussions that loom, dark and terrifying, but end up making him feel ten pounds lighter when they’re all said and done with. 

And, fuck, he wants this to feel better. Wants to be in the same room as his wife and not feel like he’s walking on the razor’s edge. 

“Hey,” he takes back her hand, “Stick with me, ok? We can talk about this.” 

Angie glares at him, but waits. 

“We are friends. That is it. Just like Santi and Benny and Will—”

“Remind me, did you fuck any of them?” 

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

He stares back into her piercing gaze, with pleading eyes, “Ang.”

Her jaw clenches and she shakes her head, but doesn’t storm off or start screaming at him, so he continues. 

“I know I fucked up by having sex with her. It was—It was a mistake.”

Angie’s features soften. Relief floods his veins, warm and buzzing and sedative. Like the first drink at the end of a stressful day. 

And, much like when he would finish his first drink, he aches for more. 

“It was impulsive. I was so fucking numb, I needed to feel something, and she was around. I’m not, you know, into her, or attracted to her—”

Angie scoffs. 

“I know it sounds like bullshit. I know,” he squeezes her hand, “But if I could go back in time and do anything over, it would be that day.”

She studies him, eyes narrowed in scrutiny. 

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

“It didn’t mean anything, amor. I love you. I mean, fuck, I’m here, aren’t I? I’m trying.”

Her shoulders slump. She swallows hard and looks down at the floor. Her nails twitch against his palm and the rush it gives him flips his stomach upside down. 

“I’m sorry, Ang.” 

“You’re sorry you got caught.” 

“I’m sorry I betrayed you. I’m sorry I broke your trust. I’m sorry I was so fucked in the head I found comfort in someone else. I took you for granted, and I’m so sorry.”

Angie lets out a little sob. He should feel remorse. At the very least, he should feel something other than sick satisfaction at her finally breaking. Just a little bit more. Almost there. 

“But that day is behind us now, and what I have with her is entirely platonic. She has Rory, and I have you, and we are friends. She’s helping me out right now by giving me a place to live, and driving me places while my license is suspended, and just being… a really, really good friend to me. I know that’s hard for you, and I’m sorry that it makes you uncomfortable, but I promise that’s all it is.” 

“I hate it.” 

“I know,” he nods, pulling her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles, “I know, baby. I just need you to trust that I’m doing this for you and Sarah. The two of you are everything to me. I love you.” 

Angie sniffles and straightens her spine, then looks over at Frankie, “Can you promise me something?” 

Her warm gaze is glossy and full of emotion. He leans into it, answering, “Anything.” 

“When the trial is over, and you leave her house—I don’t want you to talk to her ever again.” 

It sobers him instantly. 

He pulls back, shaking his head, “Ang, I can’t—”

A fire comes to life in her eyes.

“If you give a single fuck about our family, you can and you will. You told me your friendship with her is a means to an end. Is that still true, or no?” 

Slowly, he nods, but it feels wrong. The dull blade of guilt rips his belly open. 

This isn’t what was supposed to happen. 

“Then you cut ties with her when this is done. Do that for me and I will put my feelings about her aside.” 

That’s what Angie tells him, but what he understands is this is a reprieve. A stopgap. It buys him some time to figure out what the fuck he’s going to do because—

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

He swallows the thought down with a thick gulp and says, “Alright.” 

Angie blesses him with a peacemaking smile. 

Despite his churning stomach, he returns the smile and squeezes her hand, “Can… Can you do me a favor, though?” 

“What?”

“Let me invite her and Rory to Sarah’s party.” 

She stares at him like she doesn’t understand, then scoffs, “No.” 

“Why not?” 

Jumping to her feet, she shouts, “Because she fucked you in our bed, Frankie, do I really have to explain that?” 

He stands too, “You just said you’re putting those feelings aside, and she’ll be with her boyfriend, I don’t understand what the big deal—”

“Why does she even want to go?” Angie crosses her arms and scowls. 

“She misses Sarah. And Sarah obviously misses her, too. I mean, you heard her at the table earlier.” Frankie approaches her, placing his hands on her waist, searching her face, “I’m with you, amor. I promise. This would just mean a lot to both of them. Especially if they won’t be able to see each other again.” 

She softens a little. Her jaw ticks to the side, then she sighs, “Fine.” 

He represses the smile from his lips and murmurs, “Thank you,” before pressing a kiss into her forehead. 

She hooks her hands behind his neck and drops her eyes to his mouth. His pulse jumps as she captures his lips in hers, alive and wanting. The sugary sweetness of strawberry frosting makes his taste buds perk up and want more. 

Her long, red nails work into the curls at the nape of his neck, scratching that deep, aching itch for her favor. That’s the thing about Angie. She gives her affection sparingly, and when he earns it, it feels so fucking good. 

He can’t remember the last time she touched him like this, with enthusiasm and hunger. 

It was before he quit drinking. Before the failed attempts at marriage counseling. Before Angie came home from work early and caught her husband fucking the nanny.

It’s strange how something as trivial as early dismissal can alter the trajectory of so many lives. His own path seems to be an infinite freefall, always bracing for impact but never meeting the ground. 

Drinking more. Fighting more. Pushing you away again and again and again while trying to transplant these feelings into the right relationship. 

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

Especially now, when Angie kisses him, and all he can think about is your lips, your tongue, soft and slick and writhing on his. The heel of your hand kneading against his stiffening cock. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groans, eyelids fluttering open to meet her gaze, not yours. 

He wishes it was you. 

But he closes his eyes and lets her guide him back to their bed, settling for the next best thing. 

Frankie hears the buzz of an incoming text message from his pants pocket. He kisses Angie’s sweaty forehead and departs from her body, snatching the discarded jeans off the floor. 

> MARIPOSA:  > Rory is over here fyi, let me know when you’re on your way 

A nagging, confusing spring of jealousy bubbles up in his chest. Something else, too. Like guilt, but deeper. An infection festering away inside him. 

“I should get going before the birthday girl falls asleep. I don’t wanna have to wake her.” 

“Can’t you stay?” Angie asks, stroking his arm, “I mean, really, Francisco. Your PO won’t ship you off to jail for spending the night with your wife, will he?” 

Her gentle touch is a branding iron on his skin. Searing. Territorial. He has to stop himself from lurching away. 

He slides his pants back on and shrugs, “I don’t really wanna find out.”

“So fucked up.”

“I know, baby,” Frankie fishes his shirt off the foot of the bed, tugging it over his head, “I have to, I’m sorry.” 

She releases a sigh and pulls her shirt back on, “Oh, don’t forget, on Thursday my parents will be here.” 

Nodding, he stretches his arms above his head. How could he forget? 

“Try to get along with my dad.” 

He rolls his eyes before turning to face her, “Tell him the same, yeah?” 

She snorts and fastens her jean shorts, raising an eyebrow, “I will, but you know how he is. Don’t take his bait.” 

Frankie grunts in response while buckling his belt. Fully dressed, they meet at the door. Angie looks him over, giving him a rare warm smile before telling him, “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

She kisses him, and he places that rotten feeling: shame. 

Frankie walks up the cement path, craning his head up towards the cloudless sapphire evening sky, admiring the way it contrasts the tangerine siding of your post stamp of a house. The sun hangs just at the horizon, and its absence lends relief from the stagnant July heat. 

It’s a nice night, but he’s still a little surprised to find you and Rory are sitting out on the front porch swing, his arm draped around your shoulder with you all tucked into his side. Sure, it may be better than coming home to your closed bedroom door, with just the indistinguishable murmur of your voices to drive him crazy, but still… not ideal. 

The sight causes something deep within Frankie’s chest to clench and pulse, growling, “MINE.” 

Fuck, he couldn’t be more a hypocrite. 

“Whatta we have here, a couple of swingers?” he jokes while climbing the front steps.

It’s a bad joke, and in poor taste given the circumstances, but the sneer on Rory’s lips gives him a rush of satisfaction. 

Conversely, you light up when you see him. Your smile is fucking luminous. A goddamn heat lamp. He feels himself melting into the floorboards. 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

You sit up and put a little space between Rory’s body and yours, “Hey! How’d it go?” 

“Good,” he crosses his arms, leaning against the banister with a shrug, “Went to see the penguins, had pizza, presents, cake, all that.” 

“Did she like her gift?” 

“She loved it. She said she’s going to sleep with it tonight—Oh, that reminds me—Ang gave the green light for you two to come to her party on Saturday if you still want to.” 

“Holy shit, really?” you ask, eyes widening, then chuckle and shake your head, “Sorry, I’m just surprised. She really said that’s ok?”

“Yeah,” he smiles despite the guilt condensing in his stomach, and asks Rory, “Know if you can make it?” 

Rory’s head jerks back a little, and he frowns, “Well, this is the first time I’m hearing about it. But, yeah. I have nothing else going on,” he looks at you, “If that’s ok.” 

“Yeah, of course.”

Your words come out airy and unconvincing. Rory studies your face.

Frankie calls your attention back to him, “Guess what she called you earlier.” 

You avert your gaze from Rory’s, tucking your hair behind your ear before you chuckle, “Oh god, did she learn it from her mother?” 

He laughs at this, shaking his head, “No, she called you Chacha.” 

“Shut the fuck up, did she really?” you gasp.

Frankie nods, “Hand to god.”

You sit with this for a few gleeful seconds before your smile falters, and you say, “I miss her.” 

“She misses you, too,” he tells you, “She’ll be happy to see you this weekend.”

You nod, then look to Rory, whose mouth is flattened into an unamused line. He stares at you a beat too long for comfort. The air around the porch swing seems tense.

Frankie glances between you and Rory, then clears his throat and says, “Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair.”

You mumble a brief, distracted, “Oh, ok,” before he walks into the house. 

As he closes the door and leans back against it to untie his work boots, he hears you ask, “What?”

Both the sharpness in your voice and its volume make Frankie halt. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the curtains rustle from a light breeze. Quietly, he pulls his boots off and sets them on the shoe tray. Morbid curiosity keeps him rooted in place, barely breathing as he listens in on your conversation. 

“You didn’t tell me we were invited to his kid’s birthday party.”

“He said he would ask, but I wasn’t going to invite you until I knew for sure whether or not we could go.”

More silence, then your voice again, “Oh my god, what is your problem?” 

“I don’t like how you are with him.” 

“How I ‘am’ with him? What the hell does that mean?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb. You know what I mean.” 

“I really don’t, could you explain it to me?”

Rory pauses for a beat, then says, “You’re flirting, both of you, right in front of me. I don’t like it. And—and I want it to stop.”

“What am I doing that you think is flirting?” 

“It’s not just you—”

“What he does is irrelevant, he is his own person—”

“It’s fucking disrespectful.”

The silence that follows writhes under his skin. 

This is private. He shouldn’t be eavesdropping. But he can’t bring himself to move. Some fucked up part of him wants to hear what you say to Rory about him. How do you defend yourself? Do you throw him under the bus, too? 

Are you just as bad as me?

Your voice comes through the window again, metered and firm, but shaky. 

“What am I doing that you consider flirting?” 

Rory scoffs, then says, “It’s the way you look at him and talk to him. Always smiling at him, and joking with him, and asking him how his day went—”

“Wow, how dare I ask my roommate—my friend—how his day was.” 

“That’s not what I mean. It’s—it’s—I know it when I see it, ok? There’s obviously something going on between you two.”

“Obviously,” you deadpan, “Because I smile and joke with him, and ask him how he’s doing, we are so obviously fucking. You’re totally right, Rory. You caught me.”

“He’s a fucking loser, you know that, right?”

Another long pause. 

“I want you to leave.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Seriously, get the fuck off my porch.” 

“I don’t have my—”

“I’ll get your shit.”

Frankie hears the porch swing creak and his heart jumps. He launches himself forward and manages to collapse on the couch as you swing the door open. 

You freeze when you see him. Your eyes flick from him, to the open window, then back to him before you scoff and stomp off to your bedroom. 

Rory steps into the doorway, standing at attention with his hands shoved in his pockets. Frankie stares at him. Something protective and instinctual, almost paternal, wells up inside him and fine tunes his nerve endings.

From the back hallway, you holler, “What the fuck are you doing? I told you to get the fuck off my porch.”

Frankie can’t stop himself from laughing.  

Rory glares at him, “Fuck you.”

You steamroll into the room wielding a backpack and shove it into Rory’s chest, “LEAVE.”

“You’re fucking crazy.”

“I sure am. Get the fuck off my property.”

Rory holds your gaze for an intense moment before turning to go. You slam the door behind him and deadbolt it, then go to the front windows and do the same with them. 

“I’m—”

You hold up a hand to Frankie and exit the room. A few seconds later he hears your bedroom door click shut. 

After scrubbing his skin raw in the shower and changing into pajamas more comfortable than he deserves, Frankie tries to go to sleep early, but finds himself restless. 

He stares at the ceiling, at his phone, at the walls. When he hears running water in the bathroom, he wonders if you’re getting ready to go to bed. Wonders if you’re ok, and if you would accept his company. 

He thinks about his wife. Her nails digging into his shoulder blades, her hot breath on his cheek. The electric squeeze of her cunt as he came inside her. 

What would you do if you knew? 

Would it tear you apart, or could you care less?

Fuck, why does he feel so guilty? 

For the sex just as much as the tentative agreement he made. 

You know he intends to stay with her, and there’s nothing going on between the two of you. Not really. Nothing certain, at least. Right?

Sure, there was the slip up the week after he moved in. And the panties. And, yeah, some flirting. Not intentional when Rory is around, despite what he may think. And maybe you got off next to each other once. Then there’s the cuddling, and the hand holding, and this deep, aching, maddening desire to spend every ounce of his free time with you. To know all of your favorite things, and your life story, and your ticks. To make you feel happy and appreciated and safe and loved. 

And loved. 

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

His muscles and tendons vibrate with anxious energy. 

It brings him to his feet and compels him to wander through the dark, silent house, into the living room, confirming its vacancy. He starts off towards your bedroom. The light from your open door slices through the dark back hallway like a beacon. Floorboards creak under his step as he makes his way towards it, and when he arrives, he leans against the door frame. 

You’re stretched out horizontal across your bed, belly-side down, facing away from him, hovering over a thick book. He studies the curvature of your body, lingering on the generously exposed swathes of soft skin that lead to the hem of your shorts. 

“Are you just gonna hang out in the doorway like a weirdo?” you glance over your shoulder, then back at your book. 

“Sorry, I, um... I wasn’t sure if I was interrupting.” 

“You’re not,” you sit up and crawl to the head of your bed, tapping the empty pillow beside you, his pillow, his spot. “Come on in.”

While he walks over to the furthest side, you plump the pillows on your side of the bed and stuff them behind your back, then resume reading. 

“What’s that?” he asks as he stretches out across your bedspread.

You lift the cover to show him and sigh, “Still chipping away at Doctor Sleep.” 

“It any good?” 

“Terrible, that’s why I’m reading it.”

Frankie snorts and shakes his head while digging his phone from his pajama pants, “Are you doing ok?”

“Wow, you’re full of great questions tonight, huh?” 

“Maybe you’re just full of sass tonight, ever think of that?” 

“Doesn’t sound like me.” 

He raises his eyebrows and murmurs, “No comment.” 

“That’s, like, actually a comment though, in itself—”

“Weren’t you reading?” 

“Weren’t you—I don’t know, reading the news or whatever dads do on their phone?”

“Looking for car parts,” he corrects. 

“Same thing.”

Frankie drops his phone on his chest and looks at you, “Not even close.”

You peek around the corner of your book, “It’s like, equal levels of dad-ness, though, so basically, yeah.”

“Levels of dad-ness,” he chuckles under his breath, shaking his head, “You’d know something about that, huh?”

“About what, how daddy you are?” you laugh.

He shrugs, meeting your eyes. You hold his gaze, mouth cracked open in a mischievous smile, then shake your head and look back at your book, “No comment.” 

Grinning like idiots, you both go back to reading and browsing, respectively, although Frankie can’t concentrate for shit with you next to him. His skin aches with the heat of your body so close. 

He listens to every breath you take, every wet swallow, every microscopic wiggle bringing you closer. Minutes go by, but he doesn’t hear your page turn once. 

Eventually, you let out a powerful yawn, and it spreads to him. 

You grab the bookmark off your nightstand and tuck it between the open pages before closing it, “I should go to bed soon—” another yawn interrupts you, “It’s getting late.”

“Yeah,” he sits up, stretching his arms over his head, then looks back at you, “I’ll see you in the morning?”

Your features melt and soften, lips parting as you meet his eyes. This invisible force keeps him anchored there, tugging at his chest, urging him to move closer to you. He glances at your mouth, at the pink flash of your tongue wetting your lips. 

He doesn’t want to go. 

He wants to stay and kiss you breathless, to fall asleep with the warmth of your body lining his, to wake up in your bed and never fucking leave. 

He wants to take back everything he said to his wife earlier today, to defend your honor like he should have, like you would do for him, like you did for him. 

Fuck, he doesn’t deserve you. The hole he dug for himself is a just punishment. He needs to let you go and allow you to find peace with someone else who won’t hurt you like he has. Like he will inevitably do again. 

You reach out and place your hand on his arm, thumb grazing his tingling, heated skin, “Do you want to stay?” 

The contact floods him with feel-good chemicals that his hungry synapses gobble up. 

“I, umm—”

His throat swallows around his thudding pulse. It fucking hurts how bad he wants you right now. He finds himself leaning back on his elbow, gravitating closer to you, resting his hand in the dip of your waist as you roll on your side to face him. 

“Is that a good idea?” he asks. 

“Probably not,” you search his face, your gaze catching on his mouth.

His heart skitters and he doesn’t really notice that his fingertips dig into your side until your whole body shivers in reaction. Doesn’t really notice he’s been inching closer to you until your breath grazes his lips. 

The sound of your ringtone cuts through the thick air between your bodies. 

You sit up and shake your head, trance broken, then reach for the source of the noise with shaky hands, “It’s Rachel. She’s full bridezilla mode, this might take a while.”

“Ok,” he nods, “I’ll go.” 

You look over at him, apologies written all over your face. An impulse yanks hard on his body and urges him forward. Before he can talk himself out of it, he slips a hand behind your head and pulls you into a kiss. 

Your lips are soft and warm, fucking perfect, just how he remembers. They barely have time to respond before he draws back and tells you, “Goodnight.” 

You watch him crawl out of your bed, stunned silent for a moment, then answer the phone, “Hey, Rach—what’s wrong?” 

Frankie glances up at you as he closes the door behind him, and sees you tracing the dumbfounded smile on your lips. 

When he turns out the lights in his room and crawls under the covers, even though he knows damn well he won’t find sleep for hours, he does the same. 

Frankie is at work, elbows deep in the engine compartment of a Bell 407, when the call from his attorney comes. 

“Your case is on the docket,” the voicemail tells him when he returns to his small, shared office space, “Trial is scheduled for Wednesday, September 6th. We might still be able to find a favorable plea deal, so I’ll get working on that, but either way, I’d like to set up a call with you early next week to discuss your options moving forward. Give me a call when you get this, thanks.” 

He takes a seat at his desk and stares at his phone for a minute, then replays the message to make sure he heard correctly. He did. 

The earth tilts. 

Everything seems to crumble as reality dawns on him. All he can see are cold steel prison cell bars and stiff orange jumpsuits. Angie’s words from the other night echo in his head:

“When the trial is over, when you leave her house—I don’t want you to talk to her ever again.” 

A vast, unshakable hollowness overtakes him.

Or… or maybe it’s the opposite. 

Maybe he’s so heavy and full he’s just sinking deeper and deeper into the dark, endless pit of his mistakes, down, down, down… 

He unlocks his phone to return his lawyer’s call, but pauses when he tastes the salt of his own tears. Confused, he wipes his eyes and stares down at his damp hand.

Frankie just sits there for a moment, watching tears splatter onto his palms, stunned. When did he start crying? Why did he start crying?

He knew it was just a matter of time before the consequences of his actions became real. Now it’s happening and he’s blubbering like a baby. 

I need to get my shit together. 

He stands and shoves his phone in his pocket, shaking out his hands.

A string tugs at his chest, leading him to Michael’s desk. He watches the closed door as he carefully pulls open a drawer. Inside, he finds a half-empty bottle of whiskey. The string pulls taut, urging him to do it. 

He thinks about Angie. How her sour attitude always poisons his mind. How this thing between them feels so distant, so vacuous, he doesn’t know how he will ever restore it. 

He thinks about Sarah. How much he’s failed her as a father. He thinks about his own father and wonders if it’s pointless for him to keep resisting fate. Was it always going to be like this for him? Does it matter if he tries to be better, or is this all futile? 

He thinks about you. His chest aches and he feels tears burn behind his eyes again. He wishes you were here. You’d know what to say or do to make him feel better. 

Frankie takes the cell phone from his pocket and dials your number. He glances up at the door again as the line rings. 

“Hey,” you answer, sounding slightly confused, “What’s up?”

Kids squeal in the background as he tries to find his voice. Words catch in his throat, the only thing that comes out is a rasp. A sob. He’s fully crying now. Staring at the whiskey. 

“Frankie, what’s wrong? Are you ok?” 

Your concern is audible. It reaches through the phone and coaxes him to speak. 

“I, um,” he swallows hard and shakes his head, “I don’t know. I’m kind of freaking out right now.” 

“Why, what’s going on?” 

“I just got my court date,” he sniffles, clears his throat, then says, “I feel… hopeless.” 

“Where are you?” 

On your end of the world, Frankie hears a door click shut and the chaotic background noise becomes muted. 

“In my office.” 

“What’re you doing?” 

He pauses, so you repeat the question. 

“I’m staring at a bottle of whiskey,” he admits quietly. Just a whisper. 

“Ok,” you breathe, and he can hear your mind start to whiz into action, “Ok. Did you drink any of it?” 

“Not yet.” 

“Thank fuck,” a sigh of relief crackles in his ear, “Ok, that’s good. Good job. Can I come get you? I—I mean, do you want me to come get you now? Because I can—”

“No, sweetheart,” his eyes flick to the ceiling, trance broken, and he pushes the drawer closed, “You don’t have to do that.”

“But I will—”

He turns towards his desk, “No, really, it’s ok—“

“Oh my fucking god,” you huff, “Look, I am responsible for you. Not only that, but I—I care about you, Frankie. I need to know that you’re safe. And dry.” 

Warmth sprouts up beneath his sternum and branches out under his rib cage. 

“And—and it’s ok if the answer is no, because I can just come get you and bring you h-home,” you stumble a little on the last word, but you recover quickly, “Are you safe?” 

“Yeah. I just needed to, um,” he turns and leans back against the desk, pressing his fingertips to his mouth, then drops them and says, “Thanks for picking up.”

“You promise you’re not falling off the wagon?” 

“I promise.” 

“Good,” you say, your sweet, soft voice tinged with a smile, “If you’re lying to me, though, I’m gonna break your thumbs.” 

“Break my thumbs?” he chuckles. 

“Yeah, you know how many bottles you can lift with broken thumbs? None.” 

He snorts and shakes his head, “Alright, alright. Don’t get out your vice grips just yet, buster.” 

You laugh and Frankie feels his heart swell with adoration. There’s a bit of an awkward pause when your laughter fades out, then you murmur, “Thank you for calling me. Instead of… you know.” 

“Yeah.”

“Still need me to pick you up from your meeting later?” 

“If that still works for you.”

“Of course it does,” you coo, and he can hear the smile in your voice again when you say, “So, about my movie pick for tonight...”

He grins, “Uh-huh. You got a good one?”

“Well, the thing is, I was going to pick The Shawshank Redemption, but that seems a bit too topical now—”

Laughter bubbles up Frankie’s throat, and he shakes his head, “Hey, maybe it’ll give me some pointers for tunneling my way out of a prison.” 

“That is so true. In that case, maybe I’ll keep it. We’ll see,” you chuckle, “Ok, well… I’ll see you tonight, then?” 

“I’ll be there.” 

When Frankie sees your car pull up to the strip mall coffee shop that holds his Friday night meeting, a few thoughts populate his head almost instantaneously. 

At the very forefront is the reminder that he kissed you. 

It was a peck, really, just a quick kiss goodnight. But for three days, the first thought on his mind when he sees you or thinks about you or breathes or does anything really is that he fucking kissed you. 

After being notified of his court date, Frankie should only be thinking up ways to see minimal jail time. But every time he finds a still moment, before anything else, he pictures you sitting on your bed, rubbing your lips and smiling as he leaves your room. 

The thought that follows this one, on par for the past three days, is that he fucked Angie. 

Has anyone ever felt this fucking terrible about having sex with his wife?

Then, on top of that, he said shitty things about you and let Angie do the same. He knows he didn’t just betray you, but he betrayed himself, too. It wasn’t just wrong, it was disingenuous. That knowledge fills him with a heaviness so profound, at times he thinks it might break him. 

Which brings up the last thought that shotguns through his head following the kiss, then Angie: 

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

What “this” is, he hasn’t quite figured out yet. His marriage? His obsession with you? Sobriety? Life itself? 

Fuck, all of the above? 

All he knows is he means it, and that “this” is not sustainable. 

He built a timebomb with no countdown. If he concentrates hard enough he can hear it ticking in his bones, whispering in his ear: 

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

Frankie opens the passenger door to your car and sits down, closing it behind him, “Hey.” 

“Hey,” you throw the car into reverse, craning your neck around to check for oncoming traffic, “How was your meeting?” 

“It was… good, actually,” he stretches out in the seat and shrugs, “Yeah. I, uhh, I think I needed that today.”

“Yeah?” you glance over at him, “So your opinion that it’s, and I quote, ‘total bullshit’ has shifted a bit?” 

He chuckles, “I guess so.” 

“Wow, look at you. A changed man,” you smirk, “You’re almost two months sober, you know that?” 

“Feels like centuries,” he taps his lips, then tells you, “But also days, sometimes. I don’t know. It’s weird.” 

“Is it getting easier?” 

Not at all. 

The thought surfaces from the hungry part of his brain. The beast that just wants and wants and wants, regardless of the cost. But that’s not necessarily accurate, even though it’s the loudest part of him. 

“Sometimes,” he admits, “Sometimes I can’t imagine being that person again. And—and sometimes all I want to do is drink until I don’t care about anything anymore.”

“But the meetings help?”

“Yeah, they do.”

“What step are you on?”

“Well… I haven’t actually started the steps. So, zero.” Before you can ask, he adds, “I don’t know why. I should. I mean, I’ve been thinking about it.” 

You nod in acknowledgement, then a few seconds pass before you tell him, “Last time I talked to Ralph, he suggested I check out an Al-Anon meeting.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“I’ve been thinking about doing it,” you glance between him and the road, “Would that be weird?” 

“I don’t think it would be weird at all,” he answers, tapping his fingers against his knee. 

“Really?”

“It might be helpful, talking to other people in similar… situations, I guess.”

“Ok. Well, yeah, maybe I’ll check it out.”

“You should,” he gives your arm a playful pinch. 

A smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth. Your hand moves towards his, then the fingers curl back and you mutter, “Sorry,” before returning it to the steering wheel. 

Frankie studies your face, watching your jaw gnash around like you’re chewing on your goddamn tongue again. He lays out his hand, palm facing up on the center console. 

You look at it, then release your white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel to place your hand in his. 

Once you do, he interlaces your fingers and pulls your clasped hands to rest on his leg. His thumb absentmindedly works against your skin as he looks out the window at storefronts and restaurants rolling past. And, for the first time all day, he feels sated and calm, like he knows everything will turn out ok.

As the end credits to Moulin Rouge! run, Frankie looks down at you sleeping peacefully with your head on his lap. He rubs your arm, murmuring, “Sweetheart.”

You wake with a start, jolting upright, and clamber to the other end of the couch. Your wide, frightened eyes glow with the ambient light of the TV. Every muscle in your body is rigid and guarded. You look like a cornered animal. 

“Hey,” he holds up a hand, “It’s just me.”

It takes a moment for you to recognize him and your surroundings, but when you do, you slacken, burying your face in your hands, and release a sob.

He stares at you, afraid to move, not wanting to rattle you further. A minute goes by like this, while you cry and he sits there frozen and uncertain. 

“Sorry,” you sit up and wipe your eyes, shaking your head, “That was fucking weird I’m sorry.” 

“No, don’t apologize. It’s ok.” 

“Ok,” you stand on shaky legs, “Well, goodnight.”

When you walk past him, he calls out, “Hey, wait,” and grabs your hand, “Are you ok?”

You don’t say anything, but you don’t pull away, either. For a moment he doesn’t even think you’re breathing. When your breath returns, it’s a sob that racks your body. You shake your head and choke out, “No.” 

“Do you want me to stay with you?” 

You nod, so he stands and follows you to your room. The lights stay off as he crawls into bed beside you, ushering you into his arms. You feel so warm there, fit so perfectly, even with your stuffed panda bear cuddled into your chest. 

When he thinks about your nightmares, your panic attacks, the times like this when you seem stuck somewhere far away, he desperately wants to know who did this to you. 

He can connect the dots. He doesn’t need you to tell him the gory details. If he could put a name and a face to the scars in your psyche, though… 

He cuts his thoughts short, not wanting to see all the methods of vengeance his volatile brain can come up with. Not with you right here, safe in his embrace, drifting to sleep. 

The long, slow breaths expanding and contracting your rib cage lull him into a hypnotic state, and sleep comes to him easily, the way it only does when he’s with you. 

Frankie wakes in your bed at dawn.

Eyes still closed, he frowns when a breeze slices through the thick, stagnant air and cools his skin.

He mutters to himself, “You stole the goddamn blanket again, didn’t you?”

One eye peaks open and confirms his suspicion. At some point overnight, you managed to twist yourself up into a cocoon on the opposite side of the bed. 

“Hmm?”

The noise is muffled and groggy. He chuckles and shakes his head, “Nothing. Go back to bed.”

The heap jiggles a little. Your hand pokes out from underneath it and grabs around for him. He scoots closer, peeling back a poofy duvet layer to reveal your serene, still mostly sleeping face. You wince at the dull light of day, but a smile ticks across your lips when you make contact with him, smoothing your palm against the heat of his chest before worming your way into his arms. He pulls the blanket with you, draping it over himself, even though the air is hot and soupy, just to feel your warmth because it’s yours. 

You mumble something into his shirt. The words all stick together when they dribble from your comatose lips and he can’t make out a single one. 

He smirks, “What’s that?”

This time, you tilt your head to the ceiling, notching the crown of your head between his collar and jaw, smacking your mouth a few times before repeating yourself. 

This time, he understands. 

“IIiii love you.” 

His heart skitters electric through his fingertips. 

He tries to keep his countenance calm when he peaks down at you. Your eyes are closed, breath passing through your slack lips in long, halting strokes. One foot in the door of consciousness, if that. 

Fuck it. 

“I love you, too.” 

Every synapse in his brain shoots off like the grand finale of a fireworks display when he says it. A sweet, sleepy hum sounds from your throat as you feel around blindly for him, patting up his arm like you’re searching for a light switch in the dark. 

When you reach his face, your wobbly fingertips twitch a little. They graze his stubbled cheek, then follow the curve of his smile. Your eyelids flutter open, and it takes a moment for your eyes to focus, but when they do, you don’t go to move or push him away like he was half-expecting. 

No, instead, your gaze slides to where you trace his lips, your own parting with a sharp breath. 

If he says anything, he’ll fuck this up, he’s sure of it. And he wants to squeeze every last drop from this moment. So he just watches you and tries to subdue the wildfire scorching his bones to dust.

“I had a dream about you,” you tell him in a hoarse whisper, as if someone might overhear. 

His pulse surges. He feels his limbs wiggle a little closer to you as he asks, “A good dream?”

You nod.

“What happened?” 

The answer tucks into the corners of your mouth and spreads across your face in a big party banner smile, “I dreamed that you, um…”

You lick your lips and shrug, raking your nails along his jaw, reeling him in closer. He doesn’t want to be the fool that makes the first move. Not unless you want him to be. 

“That I what?”

The question leaves his throat in a rumble. Permission, he needs your permission, baby, please—

Then you kiss him. Delicate and hesitant, like a question: “Do you want this?”

“I do,” every cell in his body cries, aching with restrained force when his lips move in response, pressing hard against yours like a declaration, “I don’t just want this, I need this. I need you.” 

A moan bows your vocal cords, vibrating onto his tongue as you yank on his shirt and roll onto your back, pulling him on top of you. It’s like second nature, how his hips arch into yours, the dull edge of your pubic bone grinding against his already stiff, throbbing length. 

He keeps expecting you to come to your senses and shove him away, but you don’t. You keep kissing him, pulling him closer, tongue rolling soft and wet against his—morning breath be damned, thank fucking god. If you tried to shoo him now, he might die, too much inertia from this pulsing, maddening energy rippling beneath his skin, it would tear him to shreds. 

Your lips part from his and you peer up at him through your lashes, studying his face as you tug at his cock over his shorts. His whole body shudders, a groan spilling from his chest, and you smirk, “Take them off.” 

“Are you sure?”

You glance at his lips, then meet his eyes, “No, but do it anyway.” 

Frankie sits up and strips off his clothes, watching you do the same. You pull him with you as you lay back on your elbows, lips meeting again and again in frantic, desperate kisses. His cock nudges against your slick entrance, and you whine, “Please—” 

He pushes forward, swallowed up by your tight, wet heat, catching the whine of “Fuck yes,” that escapes your mouth. A thick wave of pleasure rushes up his spine, and your hips work against his, taking him faster, the shared movements quickly escalating. 

“So fucking good,” he pants, nipping at the column of your throat as your head falls loosely back, “Sweet girl, you take me so well, don’t you?” 

“Yes,” you gasp, nodding up at the ceiling, mouth hanging open slack, eyes pinched shut, “Oh my god, yes, Frankie—”

“That’s it, baby, say my name,” he growls, this insane gush of hot, writhing ecstasy flooding his body, “Look at me.”

Your head snaps up and you meet his eyes. He slips a hand behind your head and cradles your skull, holding you here, fucking you in deep, long strokes, asking you, “Whose pussy is this?”

“It’s yours, Frankie,” you gasp, nodding, “It’s yours, it’s always yours, fuck—”

“Fuck yes it is,” his voice sounds far away, babbling all on its own as he grapples with the fire growing inside him, “Does your little boyfriend fuck you like this?” 

You let out a pathetic whimper and shake your head, “No.”

“Do you think about me when you fuck him?”

A nod, continuing frantically when he asks, “Think about how you wish it was me to make yourself come?” 

“Fuck, holy shit, Frankie—oh my fucking god—”

You’re so fucking close. His muscles start to clench at the overwhelming pleasure. 

“That’s it baby, come on, let it go, it’s ok, be a good girl let me feel you come on this dick—”

Your moans grow louder, matching his fervid thrusts, and he feels you suck him in, the spasming squeeze of your plush, hot walls yanking him violently over the edge. Liquid static condenses, then pulses through him, and he lets out a guttural noise as he fucks his load into you. 

The rhythm of his hips slow, then come to a stop. 

He looks down at you, panting, and brushes his thumb against your cheek, searching your face for signs of regret, and notices you’re studying him in the same manner.

You smooth your hands over his shoulders, then pull him into a sweet, lingering kiss. When your lips depart his, you release a heavy sigh, dragging your nails through his damp bed head as you ask, “What time do you have to go?” 

An old, familiar ache returns. Reality setting in. He realizes what the day holds in store for him. Sarah’s birthday party. Spending the day with family and friends, playing pretend. 

When he thinks about being around you and Angie simultaneously, how he will have to act neutral or even cold towards you, his stomach twists and a sour taste rises in his throat. He’s been here a million times and it always leaves him nauseous with shame. It doesn’t feel right. It never felt right. 

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

Everything seems to click into place. He understands what he has to do. 

“Pablo is picking me up around 9.”

Your throat bobs and a crease forms between your brows as you avert your gaze, fingers still working through his hair, “Today’s gonna be a fucking nightmare, isn’t it?” 

“Mmm,” he presses a kiss into your forehead, right on the little worry lines, mumbling against your skin, “It’ll be ok.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, “We just fucked, now we’re gonna spend the day with your wife and daughter, what could go wrong?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he chuckles, but you don’t find it funny. 

You flinch and look down, hands curling to your chest. Frankie tilts your chin up. When he meets your eyes, they’re bloodshot and watery. He opens his mouth to say something, frantically searching his brain for some kind of band-aid, but the box is empty. He’s not sure what to say to comfort you. All that comes out of his stupid fucking mouth is, “I—fuck, sorry.” 

“No, it’s ok,” you wipe your eyes and sit up, so he draws back, watching you scramble to put your shorts back on, “I, um… I’ll go make some coffee.” 

He wants to assure you it will be ok, that he’s going to fix this, make things right. Something he should have done years ago. But the words lodge in his chest. What if he can’t fix it? What if it’s another promise he can’t keep? 

So he just sits there and lets you walk away for the millionth time. 

After taking a shower and getting dressed, Frankie pours a cup of coffee and walks into the living room, where you’re scribbling in your notebook, limbs twisted up into a tight knot. Uncertainty paralyzes him in the archway between rooms. He takes a step back, pauses, then steps forward. 

You smack the notebook and blink at him, “Oh my god Frankie, just sit down, you’re making me nervous.” 

He nods and strides over to the couch, lowering himself onto the cushion beside you with a groan. Meanwhile, you return your attention to the notebook, furrowing your brow as you write.

Curiosity flips his stomach. Is it about him? About what just happened? 

Desperately, he wants you to share your feelings on the matter with him like you would your journal. The unfiltered truth. 

Do you want this like I do?

He takes a big, burning sip of coffee, then asks, “What’re you writing about?”

Your eyebrow arches and you continue to scribble as you narrate, “Dear diary, he’s gonna be super fucking weird about this now, isn’t he?”

Frankie snorts, shaking his head while you spear your pencil down the notebook’s wired spine and smirk at him. He tugs at one of your ankles, and you welcome the invitation, stretching your legs out across his lap and he scoots closer. 

“Am I being weird about it?” he asks, glancing down into his steaming mug. 

You exchange the notebook for your coffee and raise it to your lips before shrugging, “A little. But I think I am, too, so…” You take a loud sip, then lower your mug and ask, “Do you regret it yet?”

He doesn’t even think about it. The answer barrels from his heart to his mouth. 

“No.” 

A timid sort of smile curves your lips. It reminds him of the way a neglected animal would react to an outstretched hand. Cautious. Not sure if he’ll slap or pet you, but hopeful. 

“Really?”

He nods, searching your face, “What about you?”

“No. But—” your smile falters, eyes dropping to your coffee cup, “But I’m scared.” 

Guilt pools icy cold in his guts. His throat bobs on its own accord. He takes your hand, weaving his fingers with yours.

Your face twists into a pained expression and you croak, “What are we even doing here?” 

“I don’t know yet,” he shakes his head, “But give me some time—”

“I can’t be your mistress again,” you whisper, shaking your head as tears pool in your eyes, voice escalating, tinged with panic, “Please don’t ask me to do that again, it would kill me, Frankie, I fucking can’t—”

“Hey—no,” he sits up to place his mug on the table, takes yours and does the same, then scoops you up onto his lap.

You bury your face in his neck. Sobs work through your body with violent force—a horrible, tortured sound that pulverizes his heart. All he can do is squeeze you tight and do his best to restrain his own tears. It barely works. Self-loathing bubbles under his skin. 

His voice cracks as he tells you, “I won’t do that to you again, mariposa, I promise. I’ll fix it, I promise I’ll fix it, ok?” 

He clenches his eyes shut, cradling you as a few more strangled noises burst from your chest, each one driving the thought deeper: I don’t want to do this anymore. 

“Give me some time,” he rasps into your hair, “I promise I’ll fix it—”

“You’re just saying that because I’m crying,” you choke out in an accusatory fashion, then take a big, wet, gasping breath. 

“No, I’m not—hey, look at me.”

He pulls back to meet your eyes, but you shake your head in protest, covering your face, “I don’t want to, I’m ugly crying.”

“Ugly crying?” Frankie snorts, “I don’t know about that, let me see.” 

Your shoulders bounce with a soggy, muffled chuckle, “Shut up.”

He smirks at the spunky response as you sniffle and drop your hands, shooting him a glare he knows you don’t mean. Feigning seriousness, he pinches your chin to inspect your damp, puffy face. 

“Hmm,” he clicks his tongue and sighs, “Just as I thought. Too goddamn pretty for your own good.” 

To this, you roll your eyes and chuckle, “You’re a liar.” 

“Maybe,” he shrugs, thumb sliding across the plush of your bottom lip, “But not about this.”

Your gaze softens as you search his face, “Which part?” 

“All of it.” 

“Really?”

Frankie nods. 

You study him, brow furrowed, eyes welling up. Everything is so silent and still, he wonders if the world stopped turning. A fat tear rolls down your cheek and you croak out, “You better not be fucking with me, Francisco.”

“I’m not—”

“Because, I swear to god, if you’re lying—”

He cups your cheeks and holds your gaze steady on his, “I promise, ok? I’ll tell Ang later this week. But today…” He trails off, shaking his head, “I don’t know.”

A few tears break loose, so he wipes them away. 

The column of your throat bobs and you ask, “Do you still want me to go?”

He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, “Do you still want to go?”

“You first.” 

“I’d like it if you did. And it would mean a lot to Sarah,” he slips his arms around your waist and leans back onto the couch. You follow, laying your head on his shoulder, melting into him as he pets your hair and says, “But it’s up to you. It might be hard.”

“Because you’re still… with her, right? Like this?”

His chest aches. You flatten your palm against his heart and he tells you, “Yeah. Well, kind of. It’s different, but yeah.” 

“Different how?” 

I don’t love her. Not like this. 

“I, um… I don’t know how to explain it. She’s just a different person. Our relationship isn’t like this. It’s kind of like it was, but, you know… worse.”

You’re quiet for a moment, then ask, “Do you still fuck her?”

“No.”

The lie slips out automatically. Immediately, his stomach drops to the ground. He wishes he could take it back, and for a second, he considers it. But, at the same time, you don’t need to know about a one-time fuck up. 

He shifts a little, looking down at you, “But we’re still… affectionate sometimes. Which could be hard to see. So, it’s up to you.” 

You smooth your hand up his chest, to his neck, and sit up to meet his eyes, “I’ll go.”

Frankie nods, searching your face. 

“We can behave, right?” your eyebrow quirks, and you glance down at his mouth. 

“Uh huh,” he leans closer, inhaling your breath, brushing his knuckles against your cheek. 

But when his lips meet yours, and sparks ignite under his skin, he knows it’s just another lie. 

[the-witch-of-one-piece]

Daddy Tokyo Revengers: Having an Overly Shy Daughter pt 2 Ft: Mikey, Baji, Wakasa, Takeomi, Chifuyu, and Shinichiro WC 2000+ Part 1 a/n: part two is here! part 3 is in the works of characters on the list for part 3 Mitsuya, Kazutora, Kisaki, Kakucho, Izana, and Smiley!

Wakasa He began to lace the purple little gloves on her hands. “Remember what daddy taught you?” he asked his baby girl. Her eyes watching her dad tying the strings of her glove. “Just like we practiced.” Wakasa patted her head. 

She saw her large uncle Arashi get into the ring he had his gloves on as well. She saw her daddy get out of the ring leaving her in the ring. “Daddy.” She trembled in her voice. 

“you got this bumble bee, keep your hands up and remember the bigger they are the harder they fall.” Wakasa spoke. For years he saw people come in and out of the gym then after training with him he could see the confidence in them. He wanted to do the same thing for his daughter seeing how sometimes she didn’t have confidence in herself due to her being overly shy about anything she did. 

She heard the bell ring and followed her dad's instructions keeping her hands up. Arashi was willing to help his little niece even if he had to be a little dramatic. Wakasa's little bumble bee swung towards her uncle hitting Arashi’s stomach and in a matter of seconds Arashi began to feel ‘pain’ from the hit. He fell to his knees and pretended to knock out. Her eyes widened in shock that she did that to her uncle. She turned around hearing the bell. “I killed him.” 

“ no no you knocked him out! You did it!” Wakasa said, reassuring his little one, getting into the ring. “And the winner is my little bumble bee” Raising her hand up Some of the members in the gym clapped and cheered for this because her little cheeks radiated with heat. She had a bashful smile. “See bumble bee l, no one your age can knock out a giant like him.” 

Takeomi 

“No daddy I don’t want to go…” Her little backpack was on her shoulders. This was her second day of kindergarten. His daughter didn’t have the best day yesterday. She tried her best to meet some friends but when she would try to speak she began to stutter when nothing came from her mouth she took off in the other direction in the classroom. 

Takeomi felt bad for how her first day went. He should have listened to his wife and should have put her into a head start program to help with her social skills but he thought she was too little and being a first-time dad all he wanted to do was protect her and just knowing her parents would always be there for her. Now letting her get her own wings was a challenge. His hands gently were on her shoulders. “I know it’s tough but you can’t give up…. Daddy wants you to try for him. Can you do that for me?” He calmly spoke to her. 

She took a moment to respond with a slight nod. He had a relieved smile. He reached into his coat pocket  “Since you're staying today I have something for you that can help.” Pulling out small bracelets with charms on them.  “I went to the store last night and I asked the lady I needed a special bracelet to help give little princesses confidence. She found this… Look, it has all your favorite things on it too.” He began wrapping the bracelet around her wrist. Going to the jewelry store last night as a gift for her starting kindergarten. Something special for her and if she knows it’s supposed to help with her shyness she could feel a little more relaxed when making new friends. 

“Will it help me? ” She blinked a few times looking at her dad.  

“Mmhmmm,” they heard the bell ring “alright princess I will be here to pick you up after school.” Giving her a big hug. “ I love you.” 

“I love you too.” Kissing her cheek. He watched her enter the school and she disappeared around the corner where he class was.

Chifuyu 

It was his day off and he told his wife to enjoy herself for a few hours while he kept an eye on his munchkin. He was trying to feed Peke J when he couldn’t find him. Calling for him no response. He was looking everywhere for him and nowhere to be seen. The last place he checked was his daughter's room. Her door was slightly cracked open when he could hear his daughter's voice. “Down by the bay~~~ where the watermelons grow~~~ back to my home~~~`” he could hear the cute melody coming from his 4-year-old who was in her room singing. He could see on her bed Peke J,  he had one eye open as he watched his little owner enjoying herself. “Have you ever seen a fly wearing a tie? Down by the bay~” 

He hasn’t heard his daughter sing like this before. She would copy a few words from the song but it will only be spoken softly by her. Hearing her sing the full song brought a smile to his face. Peke J notices the presence at the door picking his head up meowing. His daughter stopped singing and he was busted.   “papa?”  she called out. When he finally opened the door the familiar pair of green eyes that resembled his looked back at him. “Hey sweetie, I was looking for Peke J. It was time for him to eat.” Chifuyu smiled. “I happen to hear you singing.” he smiled. “It was cute.”

She was bashful as she looked down at the ground, her hands were behind her back  “you liked it?” “Of course! You have the sweetest voice I ever heard. You got that from your mama. I know it's not from me. Do you mind if you will sing for me?”  

Her eyes lit up, nodding. “Mhmm.” 

“Promise?” he crouched down holding his pinky out to her. 

“Promise.” her little pinky wrapped around his. 

Baji 

During his final year of residency, he was exhausted. Knowing this would be a big step in his career and for his family as well. Stressful years in school were going to pay off. His shift at his vet hospital ended. Making his way to his home knowing it was late his daughter could be asleep. Entering his home that was silent. ‘They are asleep.’ he thought to himself. He got out of his clothes into something more comfortable, he walked into his daughter’s room, the small night light by her bed was on and she had a stuffed white cat she was holding onto. He sat on the edge of the bed. He had been so busy he hadn’t had a lot of time with his favorite girl. Brushing her hair back and kissing her temple. Her daughter shifted her little hand rubbing her eyes as they slowly peaked open “Sorry I woke you.” he whispered. 

She let out a yawn. “I told mommy I wanted to wait for you, but I fell asleep.” She looked up at her dad. She missed her dad and knew when he had some time when he wasn’t doing his residency he needed rest. “Imissedyou.” she mumbled quietly. 

Baji noticed how his daughter held onto the stuffed cat as she buried her face into the top of its head. “I missed you too kiddo.” he looked at the drawing that was on her nightstand and picking it up he could see three figures “Did you do this?” She nodded her head “It’s f-for you Daddy.” snuggling into her stuffed kitty cat.

“ I have to add this to my collection of fine art, thanx kiddo” he looked at the photo then he found himself yawning. His daughter could see a tired look in his eyes. She scooted in her bed and Baji noticed she was making room for him to lie down. He was too exhausted to get to his room and he gladly accepted cuddling with his baby. “You wouldn’t mind if I crashed with you huh.” 

“I-I don’t mind.”

At times Baji forgot how big she was getting he still remembered her being a newborn who was the side of her forarm. Brushing her dark bangs out of her face. It didn’t take long for his daughter's eyes to become heavy; she didn’t fight her sleep. Baji looked down to see the smile on his baby’s face as she was asleep cozy next to him. His eyes finally gave out as he hit a deep slumber. 

Mikey 

The father-daughter dance was today and Mikey was ready to go. He had the corsage to match his daughter's dress. When he first heard about the dance his daughter was excited she would be taking her dad with her, but the closer it got she became a bit more nervous. There were going to be a lot of dads with their daughters there.  “Love, we are going to be late.” he knocked on her door. 

When his 5 year old opened the door she saw him in the pretty red dress she picked out last week from the store. His daughter didn’t get his personality at all. No matter how hard he tried to help her out breaking the shyness she retracted back more. There were people she was able to talk to that she was comfortable with but others she was mute. Mikey smiled, “I sure do make one hell of a cute kid, you are gorgeous my little princess.” 

He could see her face glowing red as it matched her dress color. “I um uh thank you dad,” she was a bit jittery with the compliment from her dad. Opening the container of the red corsage and placing it on her tiny hand. 

“Am I going to get to dance with my gorgeous date?” Mikey asked, taking her hand. 

“Ca-can you teach me ?” She began following her father to the car.  She really didn’t know how to dance. 

“Of course. Anything for you princess.” He buckled her seat belt and he began to drive towards the school. 

Shinichiro 

Shin could see the frustration in his daughter's face. She was trying to fix her toy that came apart. Trying to clasp them back together when they kept coming apart. She let out a low sigh. “Do you need help, cupcake?” Shin asked, catching his daughter's attention. 

“It’s okay daddy I got it.” Her concentration was still focused on the toy.  Shin could see how to fix the toy he began making his way . “No-No daddy, it's okay.” She looked up at him and he took a seat next to her on the floor. She became a bit more nervous; she wanted to do this for herself instead of going to ask her dad all the time. Shinichiro always loves helping her out. When he is in the shop he would ask her to help him pass him the tools he would need to fix a bike. 

“Daddy is just gonna watch kay?” he patted her shoulder. He continued to watch her tweak it but it wasn’t working. A frown came to her lips she had to admit to defeat this time. “It's okay sweetheart. Take a deep breath.” He guided her through the deep breath and saw her relax after. “Turn this piece around.” He pointed to the left side of the toy. Following her fathers instructions she managed to place the piece properly in. “ you did it!” Shinichiro saw the look on her face she was biting her inner cheeks looking at the toy. “What’s wrong?” 

“I wanted to figure it out myself.” She looked over at her dad then back down. “But i couldn’t.” 

“It’s okay to ask for help, I know you want to do it yourself but sometimes we need help and I will always be there to help you.” Rubbing her back. 

She gave a small smile nodding at her smiling dads face. She reached for one of her other toys “ do you want to play with me?” In her other hand she one of her toys 

“Of course!”

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[jackhues]

our house - arber xhekaj

notes: i hope you guys like this, third fic for 'it's the most wonderful time of the year', a bit of domesticy fluff for this one :))

likes are good, reblogs are better <3

part of naqia's end of the year celly!

gif not mine

"we got the gingerbread houses!" arber announced, ushering your daughter inside before closing the door.

hana, your daughter, came stumbling in the kitchen, holding a gingerbread box that was much too big for her. your husband followed close behind, just in case she dropped it.

"is the icing ready already?" she asked, putting the gingerbread house box on the edge of the counter. arber laughed, picking her up a bit to help her place it more securely.

"it's ready!" arian, your son, said proudly to his little sister. "mommy and i made so many colours, look daddy!"

"oh wow," arber grinned at the different colours you and arian had been mixing up while he went shopping with hana. he ruffled arian's hair, "good job. this is gonna be the best gingerbread house ever!"

"i wanna see too!" hana raised her hands for arber to lift her. "show me, please."

arber lifted her up, showing her the reds, and blues, and pinks, and yellows you and arian had mixed up.

"woww," she muttered. "can i eat it?"

"no, hana," arian shook his head, sounding like a tired old man. "we need to decorate the house first."

"i can eat it after?"

"you can eat it after," he agreed.

you and arber shared a grin at their interaction. you had two kids and they were basically polar opposites. arian was the calmest child you'd ever met, absolutely content with whatever you gave him. meanwhile hana needed to cause chaos wherever she stepped.

"okay, okay, now that we have everything, we can start building," you decided.

you all grabbed the icing, candies, and gingerbread house, making your way to the living room. you'd set up an old tarp on the carpet just in case anything spilled (which was basically a certain with hana involved).

"for you, my love," arber held out the gingerbread box. "you may do the honours."

you laughed, ripping open the box as arber and your kids cheered. you broke apart the pieces, handing everyone a piece of the wall. putting the roof on the side, you turned to your piece of the gingerbread house.

hana immediately grabbed the yellow frosting and began spreading it all over the wall she had gotten.

"hana, it's going to make it heavy. the wall won't -- never mind," arian decided. "do whatever you want."

"okay," hana shrugged, continuing to spread the icing all over her gingerbread piece.

across from her, arian pipes a small amount of blue around the edges, drawing designs on it. across from you, arber drew a heart on his wall, with both of your initials inside, and hana and arian's right outside.

"you're such a dweeb," you rolled your eyes, laughing at his grin.

the four of you watched the home alone movies as you decorated your gingerbread pieces, laughing at each other's pieces and trying to hide your pieces from the others.

"i'm done," arian smiled, holding out his piece.

the rest of you brought your own pieces out, getting ready to build the actual house.

"oh no, it's falling!" hana cried, pointing at her piece.

she's smothered so much icing on it that it wouldn't stay up, no matter how much arber tried to get it stay.

"hold up, let me do it," you said, playing around with the icing. you allowed her piece to lean on the other walls. after a few minutes, you stepped back, grinning. "ta-da!"

"yay!" hana clapped.

arian laughed at her reaction, happy to see the gingerbread house standing.

"i don't know how you do it," arber muttered to himself, staring at you in awe.

"do what?" you asked.

"make me fall in love with you a little more," he answered simply.

you blushed, shoving him away as he laughed and pulled you close. you gave in, leaning against his chest as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"okay, stop being mushy guys," hana turned back to the gingerbread house. "it's time to make the roof."

you and arber exchanged a look, bursting into laughter.

"of course, princess," arber grinned at her. "let's make the roof of our house together."

[hockybish]

Reveal

l family is everything au l quinn x mom l masterlist l

October 29, 2024

With Jack and Luke in town for the Hughes Bowl, it was the perfect excuse to have the family over for dinner and a gender reveal. It was going to be just a little party with yummy food, a cake, and maybe some board games.

Neither you nor Quinn cared if the baby was going to be a boy or girl. Hattie may have had a prefference if she wanted a little brother or a baby sister. But as long as the baby was healthy that is all the mattered.

The reveal was just a fun thing to do while the family was together.

"Ready?"

You nodded towards your husband/boyfriend/fiance/baby daddy thing, to get a move one and cut into the cake to reveal if it's blue or pink inside.

"Okay. One, two, three!" Quinn made one angled cut and then another. He then slid the pie server under the slice and slowly lifted to cake to reveal the blue sponge inside.

"It's a boy!" You squeel clapping your hands together excitedly, while the rest of the family cheered. Quinn quickly put the cake on a plate, so he could wrap his arms around you and kiss you.

"A boy" Quinn smiled. He couldn't stopp kissing you. He was happy, you were happy, everyone was happy.

Once the family had there fill of cake, a couple of presents were brought out for the unborn child. Both Jack and Luke got the baby new Devils jerseys, one had "Uncle Jack" on the namplate and another had "Uncle Luke." And from Ellen and Jim the baby got a blanket and little outfit that had Fin on it.

Hattie thought the new blanky was for her. She took if immediately and started snuggling with it. You didn't want her to throw a fit tonight, so you let her have it for now.

"You guys have any ideas on names yet?" Ellen asked when the night was winding down.

"I don't know. We had talked about maybe Caleb or Asher for a boy. I don't know yet." You rubbed your belly answering the question.

"Don't worry about it honey. There's still plenty of time. And it's not like Quinn made a bet with Jack again for naming rights." Ellen patted your leg. There was a little bit of an awkward laughter amoungst the group.

"Actually, about that" Quinn grimisced. He actually did it again. He didn't make a bet with either of his brothers but he may have made a drunken promise to name his first born son after two of his teammate buddies.

"No, not again." You groaned. You scowl at the Jack and Luke who were playing with their niece on floor. They both threw up their hands in innocence

"Sorry?" He leaned over to give you another hug, you shoved him away.