#dad lewis pullman

[rhettrosunsets]

Porch Swings And Promises - Rhett Abbott X Fem! Reader

Pairing: Rhett Abbott X Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff, Slight Angst

Summary: A warm summer evening in Wabang and a porch swing leads Rhett to having a realization while he holds his four year old daughter.

Masterlist

Word count: 622

Warnings: No use of Y/N, no description of reader, Rhett doubting himself as a parent, mentions of your daughter being a surprise, mentions of Rhett's own upbringing.

Notes: Kind of want to make this a little series with reader and Rhett's backstory, how they met, when they found out they where having their daughter, their wedding, etc if anyone would be interested in that. 🤔

The porch swing creaked softly under Rhett’s weight as he gently rocked back and forth, 

The Wyoming sunset painted a hue of soft oranges and pinks across the sky on the clear summer evening. And on his chest bundled in her softest unicorn pajama set and her hair still partly damp from her bath laid your four year old daughter, her tiny hand curled into his worn flannel shirt.

He had one arm wrapped around her back, the other cradling the back of her head like he did when she was still just a new-born.

"You gettin’ sleepy, Sunshine?" he murmured against her temple. She made a soft humming noise instead of answering him, just nestling closer to him, her cheek pressed right over his heart. Something she’s done from the minute he held her for the first time.

Rhett exhaled softly, one hand moving in gentle soothing strokes down her tiny back. His fingers were calloused from years of ranch work and rodeo rides but they were always gentle when it came to you and her.

“You know” he said softly looking up, almost more like he was talking to the sky rather than to her “I was real’ scared when I found out I was gonna be your dad. You were quite a shock to your momma and I.”

The wind blew softly, just enough to create a light breeze causing your daughter to curl even closer to Rhett's chest. While inside your home, the floor creaked as you moved through the kitchen, letting them have their moment together seeing the soft sight through the window as you sipped your tea with a soft knowing smile, quickly taking a photo with your phone.

“I didn’t really grow up knowin’ how to be soft,” he whispered, tightening his hold on her just a little “I didn’t know how to show love the right way and I didn’t think I’d ever be good at this. Your momma had to tell me over and over that she was confident I could do this, and it took me a long while to truly believe her..”

Your daughter blinked up at him with sleepy widened eyes, small and confused as she responds. “You are good at it, Daddy.” Rhett’s heart melted a bit at her sleepy reply as he kissed her forehead, before resting his chin atop her small head “You think so, Princess?”

She nodded firmly, her face determined despite her prior tiredness. “You make me pancakes with smiley faces and you sing the princess songs with me and mommy on movie nights. And, and you always check my closet for monsters, which makes you super brave.”

He let out a breathless chuckle, the kind that made his shoulders shake. “I’m glad you think so Princess.”

She snuggled closer and looked up at him with her eyes that she got from you, before muttering a soft “You’re the best daddy ever"

And well that, that undid him completely. It wasn't in a loud way, and not through tears either, but in the way he went quiet as he blinked up at the darkening sky as if trying to send up a prayer of gratitude for how grateful he was for you and your daughter. She was asleep before the stars came out, her little hand still fisted in the plaid fabric over his heart.

And Rhett sat there more in love with his tiny daughter and you than he’d ever thought possible. He promised himself that he’d do better than what he had, you two deserved the world and he’d try to give it to you. He promised that he’d love you two gently, and in the ways that his girls always deserved, Forever.

[littlepinkbirdie]

Welcome to the World

The hospital room was bustling, but in the best possible way.

Sunlight streamed through the window, lighting up the small bassinet where your newborn son slept peacefully, swaddled in a soft blue blanket. The scent of fresh flowers mingled with the quiet hum of visitors filling the space.

Your parents were there, grinning like proud grandparents, your siblings cooing and asking a million questions. Lewis’s family had arrived too — his mom fussing over your comfort, his dad quietly admiring the little miracle, and his siblings passing around baby blankets and gifts with wide smiles.

Then, there was a special knock at the door that made Lewis’s eyes light up.

“You’re not going to believe who’s here,” he whispered, barely containing his excitement.

You barely had time to blink before a familiar group entered — the Top Gun Maverick cast, laughing and joking as they filed in, the energy warm and full of love.

Tom Cruise gave a gentle nod and a big grin as he crouched down near the bassinet.

“Welcome to the team, little man,” he said with a wink.

Your heart swelled watching Lewis greet his friends, proud and glowing, the way he always did — but now with his son cradled close.

Throughout the day, laughter and chatter filled the room.

Stories were shared, advice given, and every visitor got a chance to hold the baby, marveling at his tiny fingers and perfect little nose.

Your sister teased Lewis for the way he kept his eyes glued to the baby, barely blinking.

“He’s got a new obsession,” she said with a smile.

Lewis just smiled back, eyes soft.

When the room quieted for a moment, Lewis turned to you, taking your hand gently.

“I think it’s time,” he said softly.

You nodded, heart pounding with anticipation.

Together, you leaned over your son, the two of you whispering names you loved, imagining the kind of life he’d lead.

Finally, Lewis looked up, eyes bright.

“We’re naming him... Finn.”

You smiled through tears.

“Finn Everet Pullman.”

The name felt like a promise — of adventure, of love, of every new dawn you’d face as a family.

Lewis kissed your forehead, voice barely more than a whisper.

“Welcome to the world, Finn. We’ve been waiting for you.”

The room erupted with happy cheers, and little Finn yawned, curling his tiny fists close to his chest.

Lewis cradled him, softly humming the tune he’d already started to make his own.

The future was bright, and you were all exactly where you were meant to be.

Author Note: WELCOME FINN EVERET PULLMAN!!

[hargreeves-duncan]

⎯⎯ ROBERT “BOB” FLOYD HEADCANONS

a/n: i love bobby SO much i had to expand a little on my characterisation of him

warnings: mentions of parental death/grief

word count: 879

visual is for vibes only, reader’s appearance is nondescript!

- 34 (during the events of Top Gun: Maverick)

- Grew up in Montana

- His mother is old money, but his dad was new and refused to have a child until they’d gotten themselves set up independent of her family

- They ended up having Bob well into their thirties and after Bob’s mother had complications during child birth, they decided not to have another child

- Being an only child meant that Bob grew up absolutely cherished by both of his parents

- His parents met at a Honky-Tonk and even after they had Bob, they still went there every Friday night

- He used to sit up on the railing to watch them until he was old enough that his mom let him dance too

- He was a really shy and quiet kid and his mom signed him up for dancing lessons because she thought it was important for a boy to know how to lead and have a little charm

- By the time he was ten, girls his age would line up to dance with him and even though he’d blush his way through most of the numbers, dancing slowly brought him out of his shell

- His father, Richard Floyd, didn’t care much about religion but his mother, Elizabeth Joan Floyd, believed in bringing him up Protestant

- Bob attended Sunday School when he was a boy and all the way until he was eighteen, he volunteered with his mother to help at charity drives and church suppers

- He was brought up in a gentlemanly manner - all “sir’s” and “ma’am’s” and always opening the door for a lady

- His mother agreed to let him pursue his career in the Navy, so long as he got a degree whilst he did it

- He got his degree in Systems Engineering at the US Naval Academy at 22 and, from there, began his active duty in the Navy

- Two years before his time at Top Gun, his father was diagnosed with a terminal illness at aged 71

- He was torn between the hospital and the naval base during the months where it accelerated and on the day that his father passed, he wasn’t there

- He still feels guilty for not being there for his mother, or his father, that day and now, to try and make up for it, he visits his mother whenever he has any time to spare

- Communication is everything to him, especially after losing his dad - Bob is sure to send you check-in texts anytime he has a moment to breathe and when he’s deployed, he never misses a letter home

- In the words of Lewis Pullman, Bob’s a “library dweller”

- Often, when he’s reading, he’ll find a passage that reminds him of you and he’s sure to dog-ear the page to show you it later

- He’s read almost all of James Baldwin’s works

- Best believe that there are bookshelves lining almost every wall in your home

- Bob has a habit of tucking your feet into his lap when you’re sat together - whether it’s in bed or on the couch, he’ll take your feet into his lap, rest one hand on your ankle and let the other press circles into the soles of your feet

- He doesn’t have any social media and only really uses his phone to talk to the people he cares about

- His camera roll is full of pictures of the two of you and, of course, his favourite picture of you - laughing at something he said at your anniversary dinner - is his lockscreen

- Prior to meeting you, he used to take himself on solo-dates to the cinema or, on occasion, a museum

- Was obsessed with Star Wars as a kid

- Had a movie-quality Luke Skywalker costume that he wore four Halloweens in a row, it was too big the first year and too small by the last but he didn’t care

- He was heartbroken over what they did to Luke in the sequels and rewatched Return of the Jedi over and over like it could undo the damage after seeing them

- “That wasn’t Luke. Not my Luke.”

- Bob savours all of the time he has with you - keeping his phone on silent and his eyes on you, hanging onto your every word

- He’ll happily spend his mornings mumbling sweet nothings into your skin, half-asleep and cuddled up to you as sunlight spills onto the bedcovers

- And he loves evenings on the porch watching the sunset, under a blanket or two on the swing chair, just as much

- His favourite chore is doing the laundry - it’s therapeutic for him to switch his brain off and go through the motions of folding and sorting for a while

- Bob’s not particular about much except for his cedarwood soap bar and when you replace it with your own fancy body scrub, you hear about it

- “I just- what happened to the other one?”

- “I threw it out, Bobby. It was worn down to a sliver.”

- “Yeah, a sliver that was still usable, baby.”

- He doesn’t yell, or throw a fit, but he’ll dramatically fish the old bar out of the bin and balance it on top of the new one in protest

- You eventually decide that his soap stays in the shower and your scrub by the sink - much to Bob’s chagrin

[sadboyeddie]

𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐥 𝐑𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐃𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 & 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭

Summary: It's time to taste Miles' pies.

Warnings: There's some implied stuff and the tension gets a little heavy but nothing yet.

A/N: I'm on a roll so might as well keep going. I'm thinking about putting some smut in the next chapter idk. Please let me know if you're reading and enjoying this. I'm desperate for praise and feedback.

WC: 2.8K

A small curse leaves your lips as you struggle to open the door, the key fit in the lock fine but the handle is jammed. You knock your shoulder against the hard wood a few times and to your relief the door begrudgingly pushes open. 

You can't help the grimace that covers your face as you take in the colour of the room; it's a lot. You don't let that deter you though as you fully enter, kicking the door closed behind you, and drop your bag on the floor. 

You sit on the side of the bed facing the large mirror on the wall, fingers gliding over the material of the comforter; a little stiff but not the worst you've had to endure this trip. The mattress itself is a bit springy but it's also kind of firm which you like. 

You allow yourself to sit for a moment and just take a breath. 

Falling back against the bed you decide to close your eyes for a few minutes, unaware of the man staring at you from only a few feet away.

-- 

Miles knows this is wrong.

Knows he should be in his little closet sized room doing something else wrong but he just couldn't help himself. Your smile, your laugh, your genuine interest in what he was saying was just too captivating.

It's not like he's filming you, not that the dark thought hadn't crossed his mind, he's only watching. He tries to convince himself what he's doing is not that bad.

It could be worse.

Your soft demeanor seems to have a calming effect on his soul, something he hasn't felt since before he left for war.

He leans down and flicks the switch, the small crackle of the machine adds sound to the quiet hall before your voice fills the space. 

You're humming a tune and it takes him all but a second to realise it's the song that was playing in the lobby. He cant see your face, unfortunately, from the angle that you're laying in but he watches as you bring your hand to your chest and start playing with something; your necklace most likely. 

Although a dirtier more darker part of him wishes it was something else.

Miles takes a step back until he hits the cold concrete wall behind him, bringing his hands to his face to press the heels of his palms into his eyes, he doesn't stop until he starts to see stars behind the lids.

He's never done this before, he's only every come down to observe and watch when he's been told to. When he gets that call. He's normally very respectful of regular guests but there's something about you. Something sweet and alluring. Something the darker part of him wants. Craves

He takes one last look at you before flicking the switch off, your soft voice being cut out, as he quickly leaves the dark hallway. 

When he locks the door behind him he can hear the shrill alarm of the oven going off. 

His pies. He completely forgot.

-- 

After dragging yourself from the bed you had made your way to the shower, relieved to feel the hot water pulsing from the head. You admittedly had spent far longer in there then you intended but it felt far too good to get out, the images of the handsome concierge didn't at all help your situation. Maybe you should've had a cold shower instead? 

Here you sit on your bed now, lacing up your shoes as you finish getting ready to go out and find something to eat. You're still starving, the small bag of peanuts you had before your shower did nothing to help your hunger but you chose the comfort of the warm spray of water over food and now you're slightly regretting the long shower. 

Double checking to make sure you have your room key and purse you head down the covered walkway back to the lobby, a little surprised to see that it's already dark out. You hadn't noticed the time get away from you.

When you enter the lobby the first thing to hit you is the warmth, followed by how dark it is. There's light coming from the dessert display cases, a light behind the bar some small lamps on the tables in the booths here but not much other then that. 

You intend to ask Miles if there's a place around here to eat but just like check-in the man is nowhere to be seen.

As you make your way over to the counter you hear the faint grumblings of President Nixon going on about some such garbage that you don't really care to listen to coming from the small TV set, so you turn and head over to the display case of food on the opposite side of the room. 

You bite your bottom lip in contemplation, there's a few sandwiches; looking a little stale, some sad looking fruit and finally some slices of pie, there's a little paper note on the bottom of each plate labeling each selection in a messy scrawl; apple, strawberry, cherry or mix. 

Interesting.

While you were engrossed in the cases you didn't happen to notice or hear Miles entering, not until he stands several feet behind you and clears his throat. 

You swear you jump several feet in the air as you quickly spin to face the noise, hand tightly clutching your chest, "my god!" your breathing is a little fast as you take in the apologetic smile of Miles, "you're a quiet little thing when you want to be." 

He has the audacity to look sheepish but a little pleased as he once again apologises, "I'm really sorry, I tried to be a bit louder so I wouldn't scare you."

After taking several seconds for your heart to stop racing you let out a small chuckle, "didn't work."

You notice how he's a little more put together then he was this afternoon, not twitching as much and able to actually look you in the eye. 

It's actually a little intense.

"So.." you slightly trail off as you turn back towards the display case, "what would you suggest?"

He walks a bit closer to get a better look at the options and you take the opportunity to be a little creepy and smell him a bit. 

He smells like fruit and washing powder, an odd combination but not at all unpleasant. 

"Well, uh, I baked the pies this afternoon," he looks over at you with a proud grin and you can't help but smile back. He's so cute.

"A concierge and a cook?" You ask, impressed, "a man of many talents."

"I don't know about that," he chuckles a bit, "I never said the pies were good."

"I guess I'll be the judge of that," you turn fully to the case and take your purse from your pocket before you're stopped by Miles. 

"If you're going to rate my desserts you shouldn't have to pay," his smile is small but still there as he makes his way towards the case; ignoring your protest with his key in hand he unlocks the glass door. 

"Trying to butter up the judge?" you playfully ask as he grabs two small plates of sliced pie.

"If I was going to do that I would go and get the ice cream," he grins and makes his way over to a booth, you obediently following behind him. 

"Well now I'm definitely taking a point off for no ice cream," you grumble with a smile as you take a seat.

Miles breathes out a laugh through his nose, an easy smile on his face and heads back over to the display case to get the other two flavours of pie and two forks. 

"So, which is which?" you ask, gently turning the slices of pies to get a better look at their fillings as he sits down and places the forks on the table.

"Apple, strawberry, cherry, mixed," he points to each one as he names it, he takes note of the small confusion as he points to the fourth, "I had extra filling left over so I made a smaller pie," he shrugs.

"Ah, very smart," you praise as you pick up a fork and pull the strawberry pie a little closer to you, "have you tried any yet?" you nod towards the desserts.

"I had some of the cherry before putting it into the oven," he picks up his fork and waits for you to start, "it was good." 

"I'll decide that," you smile, and he laughs a bit, as you cut the tip of the pie off with the side of your fork, making sure to get a decent amount of crust and filling before scooping it into your mouth. 

Miles watches you with baited breath, trying to gauge your reaction. To your credit you try very hard to keep a neutral expression but your facade falls and you let out a small groan.

If you hadn't gone to fork another piece you would have seen the tips of Miles' ears go red and his face flush a deep crimson.

"This is so good!" you praise before taking another bite. Your hunger make itself more evident now that you've had a taste of food.

Your praise snaps him out of his trance and he gives you a warm smile, "yeah?"

"Yes!" you nod, "try some," pushing the plate with little force in his direction, stopping when it's in the middle of the table between you. 

"Okay," it's soft and a little shy but he eagerly digs his fork into the pie, a small thrill runs through you as you watch him share the dessert. The whole thing feeling entirely too intimate but you can't find it in yourself to stop.

You admit that if Miles was a different person, perhaps loud and brash you might not want to spent much time in his presence but he's completely the opposite of that. Gentle and shy, mysterious and intriguing. A soft riddle you want to solve.

You can tell the moment the pie hits his tongue because his eyes widen and light up a bit, "huh," he nods, trying his hardest to stay modest, "not bad."

"'Not bad'," you scoff and playfully roll your eyes, "such a humble chef." 

You go to break off another peace and he follows your lead smiling as he does. 

"Where'd you learn to bake?" you ask the question casually but you notice his shoulders stiffen a bit.

He takes his time chewing the mouthful of pastry before finally answering your question, "my Grandma taught me."

You take in his hesitancy before replying, "I think she'd be proud of this," you point the fork at the crumbs now lingering the empty plate, feeling slightly guilty you ate much more then Miles.

If he cares, he doesn't show it.

"Oh, this wouldn't even compare to hers," his laugh is a tad depreciating, "hers tasted like home," the last part was said much quieter and a with a little sadness.

The look on his face makes you want to climb across the table and hold him; instead you gently place your hand on his, to your relief he doesn't shake it off or remove it. The urge to sooth him is overwhelming and you have to take a second to mentally pull yourself back.

You met this guy this afternoon and have barely been around him for an hour and yet you're ready to risk it all for him. How desperate are you?

He clears his throat and puts on a small smile before pushing the apple pie in your direction, "ready for more?"

Okay, yeah, you're very desperate. 

"Mhm," you hum, not really trusting your voice at the moment. You take note of how cold your hand feels now that it's no longer touching his warm one.

Pull it together!

"Apple," your voice comes out a little rougher then you'd hope, "a classic," you bite your bottom lip as you cut off a piece and bring it up for a taste. 

Your hand stutters slightly as you notice Miles' burning eyes focused solely on your lips. You quickly place the for in your mouth but you're so distracted by Miles you don't really taste it before chewing and swallowing. 

"It's, um, it's very good," you nervously laugh avoiding Miles' gaze as you go in for more. 

He's once again snapped from his trance, letting out a heavy breath as he takes a scoop of the apple and quickly pushes it into his mouth. 

"Your verdict?" you ask, feeling your cheeks heat up watching him swallow. 

What is going on with you?

"You're the judge," his shy smile is back, like it never left, "you tell me."

You playfully laugh as you take another bite, fully intending to actually taste the pie this time. You take a minute after swallowing to answer him.

"Apple isn't my favourite type of pie," you start, "but the cinnamon really brings out the flavour," you complement, "would be nicer with cream though," you joke.

It was meant as a jest but Miles answers like his mouth was faster then his brain. 

"Cream pies are the best," your eyes go wide as he tries to stutter out a response, "cream w-with pies, cream is good on pies," you can see the horror in his eyes as he talks.

The room goes still, awkward tension fills the air but you can't help but add to that. 

"I like cream pies," you wink as you reach over and grab the cherry pie, feeling pretty satisfied when you hear Miles let out a choked cough, "I'll admit cherries are my favourite so you better not have messed this up," you add playfully, like you didn't just send his mind spiraling.

"Mine too," is all he can manage to say after a long pause, his voice is soft but the grip he has on the fork looks like it's enough to bend the metal. 

This time the groan you let out is not all for the taste of the pie, its exaggerated and you close your eyes just for show, "So good, Miles." 

He quickly scoops up what was left of the apple pie into his mouth, something to distract him from the problem he's now facing. 

"I don't know if I want to share this," you open your eyes and give him your most innocent smile, "it's the best one."

After a beat and a small breath he replies.

"There's more in the case," it's his turn for his voice to be rough, "you can have as much as you like."

"Don't tease me," you laugh, "I might just take you up that." 

The pie really is the best of the three, you haven't tried the fourth one yet but you've already picked a clear winner. 

"Here," you cut off a generous portion of the pastry and filling and hold it up, "taste it."

Miles can no longer hold back the small groan that's been lingering at the back of his throat as he eagerly leans forward and wraps his lips around your fork, all the while keeping eye contact. 

All the control you thought you had and all the confidence suddenly vanishes as you watch him slowly eat the pie from your fork. Your breathing is once again coming out heavy as you watch him slowly chew, eyes burning into yours before swallowing.

A small bit of juice has gathered on his bottom lip and before you can lean over and do something about it his tongue darts out, swiping over the sweet liquid, there really isn't that much but just to be sure he make a show of bringing his thumb up and swiping over his lip before sucking the tip into his mouth.

You harshly push the plates to the side and lean up in your seat to kiss him, he follows your lead as you grab handfuls of his white button-up shirt but just before you can crash your lips to his the front door to the lobby opens and a man and woman walk in, loudly chatting between themselves.

You hear Miles let out a small sound, something between a whimper and a groan, which if you weren't annoyed at being interrupted would have definitely done something to you. 

You can't help but pout when he stands up, taking a second to straighten up his now crumpled shirt before heading over to attend the couple that are now ringing the bell at the front desk. 

With the tension gone and the mood ruined you grab the last piece of pie and head back to your room, you would have maybe stayed but you can over hear the man talking about having a few drinks at the bar, and you doubt there's a bartender other the Miles here. 

You briefly make eye contact with Miles as you open the door, his jaw is clenched and his shoulders are straight, you let out a humourless chuckle at the look he sends the woman when she asks for the introductory tour. 

At least he's feeling similarly to you.

[lobeliamaximoff]

"I'm going to watch Thunderbolts and Fantastic Four for the plot"

The plot:

(really how am I suppose to survive Sebastian, Wyatt and Lewis in one movie)

[sillygoose067]

Sunshine & Snuggles

Joaquin Torres x reader

The morning light crept through the blinds, soft and golden, casting gentle lines across the rumpled sheets. You and Joaquin had been awake for a while, tangled together in the warmth of your bed, his arm draped lazily around your waist, your legs still intertwined beneath the blankets. His bare chest pressed against your side, the steady, comforting rise and fall of his breaths a quiet, familiar rhythm against your shoulder.

“Mornin’, hermosa,” he murmured, his lips brushing the warm, sleep-flushed skin just below your ear, his voice still thick with that slow, gravelly tone that clings to the edges of his words when he first wakes up.

You hummed a soft, contented sound in response, your fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles along the curve of his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steady, comforting thrum of his pulse beneath your touch.

“I could stay like this all day,” you whispered, leaning back just enough to catch the soft, drowsy curve of his smile, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners as he let out a low, rumbling chuckle.

“Mmm, don’t tempt me, cariño,” he whispered, his nose nuzzling gently against your temple as he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your jaw.

You lay there like that for a while, your breaths falling into the same slow, steady rhythm, your bodies wrapped up in the warm, drowsy tangle of sheets and each other’s limbs. Every now and then, his lips would drift back to your neck, his breath warm and featherlight against your skin as he murmured sweet, sleepy endearments in Spanish, his deep, rumbling voice sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

Then, the baby monitor crackled softly on the nightstand, cutting through the sleepy quiet of the room, and you both stilled, heads turning slightly toward the small, glowing device as your daughter’s familiar, high-pitched babbles echoed through the tiny speaker. Her tiny, curious voice filled the room, a cheerful, singsong stream of sounds as she woke up in her crib, already chattering away to the shadows dancing on her nursery walls.

Joaquin’s lips curved into a sleepy grin against your cheek, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “There she goes again. Little morning chatterbox.”

You laughed softly, your fingers tightening gently against his shoulder as you shook your head. “Oh, please, you know she gets that from her daddy,” you teased, pressing a playful kiss to the corner of his mouth, the taste of him warm and familiar, like the slow, steady heat of a summer morning.

He chuckled, nuzzling his nose gently against yours, his warm, dark eyes crinkling at the corners as he whispered, “Okay, fine. You got me there.”

The baby monitor crackled again, another stream of soft, lilting babbles filling the room, and Joaquin sighed, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple before reluctantly untangling himself from the warm, comfortable cocoon of blankets.

“I’ll get her,” he murmured, stretching his long limbs as he rolled out of bed, his bare feet padding softly against the cool hardwood floor as he made his way down the hall, the sound of his footsteps fading into the gentle, early morning quiet.

You could hear the soft, creaking hinge of the nursery door, followed by Joaquin’s low, lilting voice, his words too soft to make out clearly but unmistakably warm and affectionate. A moment later, he reappeared in the doorway, your daughter bundled snugly in her swaddle, her tiny, round head resting just under his chin, her big, dark eyes blinking sleepily as she took in the warm, familiar surroundings of your bedroom.

“There’s mi chiquita,” he cooed, carefully climbing back onto the bed, settling her down on the soft, rumpled sheets between the two of you.

He leaned over, gently working the edges of her swaddle loose, his large, calloused hands surprisingly gentle as he unwrapped her, the soft, cotton fabric falling away to reveal her tiny, wiggling body, her chubby little arms and legs slowly stretching out for the first time since she’d been bundled up the night before.

Both of you watched, utterly captivated, as she arched her tiny back, her fists stretching above her head, her little toes curling as her face scrunched up in that exaggerated, full-body stretch that only babies seem to master. Her pink, bow-shaped lips formed a small, perfect “o” as she let out a contented, squeaky little sigh, her tiny fists waving unsteadily in the air as if testing the boundaries of this newly unwrapped freedom.

“Oh, look at that big stretch,” Joaquin whispered, his eyes shining with that soft, unmistakable awe you’d seen on his face a hundred times since she was born. He leaned down, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to her chubby cheek, earning a delighted, toothless smile in return as her tiny fists batted uncoordinatedly at his face.

Then, with a soft, playful huff, he scooped her up, settling her small, warm body against his broad, bare chest, her tiny, downy head nestled just beneath his chin, her small, curious hands clumsily batting at the cool, metallic surface of his dog tags as they dangled against his skin.

“Oh, you like those, hm?” he murmured, leaning back against the headboard as her tiny fingers curled around the cool, jangling plates, flipping them over and over with that intense, baby-like concentration as if trying to decipher the cryptic engravings.

For a moment, he let her fumble with them, her dark, curious eyes narrowing slightly as she brought the cool metal closer to her wide, determined eyes, her tiny, pink tongue peeking out between her gummy lips as she prepared to give them a good, slobbery taste.

“Oh, no, no, no,” he chuckled, gently pulling the chain away from her grasp before she could fit them into her mouth. “Not for the mouth, mija.”

He leaned down, pressing a series of quick, playful kisses to her round, chubby cheeks, making her squeal with delight, her tiny fists batting unsteadily at his face as if already trying to pull him back in for more.

Eventually, he carefully set her back down on the mattress between you, her small, wriggling body sinking into the soft, rumpled sheets as she let out a soft, babbling coo, her tiny, clumsy hands reaching out to pat softly at your bare arm, her dark, curious eyes flicking between the two of you.

You watched as she babbled up at the ceiling, her tiny, chubby cheeks flushed pink with excitement, her little fists waving unsteadily in the air as if trying to grasp the faint, early morning light filtering through the blinds.

“She’s definitely your daughter,” you whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her other cheek, your heart swelling as her dark, curious eyes flicked between the two of you, her tiny mouth working through a series of soft, babbling coos as if already trying to join in on the conversation.

Eventually, Joaquin reluctantly pulled himself from the bed, muttering something about breakfast as he disappeared down the hall, leaving you and your daughter alone in the soft, warm cocoon of the blankets.

When he returned a few minutes later, a tray balanced carefully in his hands, your daughter had begun to fuss, her tiny fists waving unsteadily in the air as she curled instinctively against your chest, her little nose nuzzling into the warm, familiar curve of your breast.

“Oh, somebody’s hungry, too,” he murmured, his lips curving into a soft, affectionate smile as he carefully set the tray down on the mattress beside you, leaning in to help you adjust your daughter’s tiny body, his hands warm and steady against your sides as he guided her to your chest.

Joaquin settled in behind you, his bare chest warm and solid against your back, his strong arms wrapping snugly around your waist as you leaned into his embrace, your daughter still nestled comfortably against your chest, her tiny fingers flexing and curling as she nursed, her round, curious eyes flicking between the two of you.

“Look at her, she’s getting so big,” Joaquin whispered, his voice low and full of quiet awe as his lips brushed the soft curve of your jaw. His hand rested gently against your side, his thumb tracing slow, absentminded circles against your hip, his eyes never leaving your daughter’s tiny, perfect face.

You felt a warm, familiar swell of affection bloom in your chest at the soft, reverent tone of his voice, the quiet, unspoken awe that seemed to have settled between the two of you in the months since she’d been born, that deep, unshakable love that seemed to grow with every tiny coo, every toothless smile, every soft, sleepy sigh.

After a moment, Joaquin shifted slightly behind you, his arm slipping away from your waist as he reached over to the breakfast tray he’d set beside you, carefully selecting a small piece of fresh fruit from the colorful array of food he’d prepared.

“Here,” he whispered, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he gently brought the piece of fruit to your lips, his thumb brushing softly against the corner of your mouth as you took a small, appreciative bite, the sweet juices bursting across your tongue.

You hummed softly in gratitude, leaning back against his broad, solid chest as he reached for his own plate, his long, graceful fingers carefully plucking a piece of toast from the tray, his eyes still fixed on your daughter as she continued to nurse, her tiny, pink mouth working in that steady, instinctive rhythm, her chubby little hand still patting softly against your skin.

For a few minutes, the two of you shared your breakfast in comfortable, contented silence, Joaquin occasionally leaning in to press soft, lingering kisses to the side of your neck, his breath warm and steady against your skin as his free hand drifted back to cradle the small, round curve of your daughter’s head, his thumb brushing gently over the delicate curve of her skull.

Then, as if sensing that the world had shifted back into focus around her, your daughter finally released from your breast, her tiny, perfect face turning slightly to gaze up at you, her dark, curious eyes wide and bright, her tiny, chubby fists flexing and curling. You lift her to your shoulder to burp her.

Joaquin chuckled softly, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your temple, his lips lingering against your skin for a long, breathless moment. “Thank you for giving me such a beautiful family.”

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with that familiar, all-encompassing warmth as you leaned into his touch, your hand drifting up to rest against his cheek, your thumb brushing gently over the rough, stubbled curve of his jaw as you whispered, “I couldn’t do it without you.”

[k4is4rion]

If I were to hypothetically write a series about a winter soldier!reader x Bob, would anyone be interested? Plus fatherly/mentor Bucky is so fun to write and I’ve written blurbs of this before for funsies and aughhhh the dynamics

give this post some love if you’d be interested!

5/15/25: PROLOGUE OUT

[sleepynegress]

For the Pullman girlies who have made Lewis their current "white boy of the month"... I just found out he majored in Social Work in college and was the only guy in his class. And I have a picture of him with his class... LOL ENJOY:

EDIT found another one:

[springseventeen]

[dontpulltohardman]

Hi my love! Can we get a pt.2 to secrets, surprises and sunburn, where they find out Mr. & Mrs. Floyd have a baby?

(If someone has asked this pls ignore me 😭)

Beers, Bars and…Babies?

pairing: GirlDad!Bob Floyd x Wife!Reader

requests: OPEN

asks: OPEN

warnings: fluff fluff flufff, drinking but not much, daughter’s name is Wendy nicknamed Winnie, girl dad Bob has just been playing in my mind ughhh

summary: The dagger squad finds out Bob has a baby on board. part one

word count: 1k

A/n: tsymmm for the request mll hope you all enjoyed, love yall lots and lots like jelly tots🤭🩷

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“Hey Winnie baby” you coo and your daughter giggles as her little hands grab at your face, “You wanna go see daddy and all his friends, yeah” you quickly unbuckle her from her car seat and shift her onto your hip as you close the car door.

Winnie babbles as she lightly tugs at your necklace and the sound of old jazz music reverberates through the Hard Deck as you enter, “Y/n! hi” you turn to be greeted by Penny from across the bar whose eyes just light up when she sees Wendy. “Hii Winnie girl” she slightly waves as you walk up to the bar, “You and you mama come to pick up your daddy?” Winnie babbles at the sound of her father’s ‘name’, clapping her hands as she slightly wriggles in your arms.

Both you and Penny laugh as she dances, “Well daddy is right over there missy, and some of his friends too” Penny winks as she nods her head towards the pool table where the dagger squad resides, Hangman and Phoenix both playing a game of 9 ball while Bob and Fanboy sip on beers having their own conversation, you also spot Rooster, Payback and Coyote on the other side of the bar talking to some girls. You mouth a thank you to Penny before walking over.

“Hate to be a party pooper guys but Mr. Floyd is needed back home ladies and gents” You announce your presence right as Jake loses but he doesn’t even get a chance to register is his eyes fall on the baby girl hiding in your chest, “What the-”

“Winnie!” Phoenix smiles as she rushes towards you, you gently shift Winnie into her arms right as Bob walks up to you, “Hi baby” he hums as he captures you in a kiss, “Baby on board has a Baby on board!” you laugh, separating from Bob to catch Jake’s shocked expression.

“A little over a year now actually” you say settling into Bob’s side, “Everyone this is Wendy, or Winnie as you know,” you say gesturing to Winnie in Phoenix’s arms, “Our daughter” Bob proudly finishes before lightly kissing your temple. “Now let me see my baby girl” he says moving towards Phoenix and how all hell breaks loose.

The moment Winnie sees him she is squirming out of aunty nat’s arms to reach her daddy, he gets her into his arms right before a tantrum starts and the place just lights up with her giggles as Bob kisses her cheeks.

The rest of the squad, minus Phoenix, watch in awe at how Winnie and Bob interact, she has him wrapped around his finger and she doesn’t even know it yet. You watch as he carries her over to the boys, to let her and them get used to each other, “They’re all looking at her like she hung the moon and stars” Natasha snorts as Winnie grabs at Jake’s hair and he just lets her as he holds her tightly to his chest.

“She’s not glass hangman she won’t break” Bob smirks as he notices how Jake is holding her, “Tell it to yourself” you chuckle knowing that’s exactly how Bob held her when she was first born, like if he moved to suddenly she would dissolve. He shoots you a glare to which you laugh at.

“Okay okay, enough introductions, miss Wendy here has already stayed up past her bed time just to see you guys,” you say taking her from Rooster, who almost protests but the scowl on your face makes him change his mind.

Right on cue, Winnie lets out a yawn as she rests her head on your shoulder. The squad practically pouts as you and Bob make your exit, but the promise to have a family BBQ ultimately lights their spirits hoping to see you and Winnie soon.

While walking towards the car, Bob walks ahead to open the door for you to buckle Winnie into her car seat and he settles into the driver’s seat as he never lets you drive when you’re with him. When you finally settle into the passenger’s side Bob is already watching Winnie sleep through the rear view mirror with a look of pure adoration and devotion that only ever seems to be there when he looks at the both of you.

“Do you ever think about having another one?” the question surprises you, it’s not that you’ve never thought about it, of course you have it’s just with Bob always flying and you now settling back into work, you never had the time to discuss it. Well until now.

“All the time” you say softly, meeting his eyes, “But not until she’s at least 3” Bob chuckles as he rests a hand on your thigh, “Deal baby” he mutters softly before driving out of the parking lot with both of his worlds in tow.

ps. you both found out you were pregnant a month after Winnie’s second birthday so, maybe that other baby came a little early.

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[rhettrosunsets]

Hospital Bed's And Confessions - Porch Swing And Promises Series| Girl Dad!Rhett Abbott X Fem!Reader

Pairing: Rhett Abbott X Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff! So much fluff!

Summary: Rhett has been terrified of what type of dad he's going to be since the moment you told him you were pregnant, but when the nurse hands him your daughter for the first time, he has a realization that begins to heal him.

Masterlist

Porch Swings And Promises Masterlist

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: No use of Y/N, no description of reader, Pregnancy, Rhett doubting himself as a parent, Hospitals, Birth, mentions of Rhett's own upbringing, mentions of Rhetts doubts about being a good husband.

“Rhett Abbott! You aren’t going to break her. I promise you, she’s a lot stronger than she looks, Baby.” You told Rhett softly, your eyes full of love as you spoke to him, trying to calm down his never ending nerves.

Rhett had never been at just good at standing still. It was something you had always teased him for. He was never able to stand in one place for long, always needing to do something, walk around, be productive.

He'd been pacing the hospital room for the last twelve hours you'd been in labor, so worried about you and worried about his daughter. But he felt cemented to the floor the second the nurse turned around and placed the tiny, squirming bundle that was his daughter into his arms.

He’d thought about this moment since the moment you had told him you were pregnant. He'd worried about it enough that he felt he had aged five years alone within the last nine months. He had dreamed about this moment. He'd dream about what your combined futures would look like from now on.

Truthfully, he wanted to run from it and also run towards it at the same time. Nothing had made sense to him after you had told him all those months ago, he felt like the world's biggest contradiction for the emotions he was dealing with on a daily basis.

He’d lay awake on sleepless nights when you couldn’t seem to get comfortable and would cry into his shoulder about how tired you were and how your body ached, while one hand would rest over your growing belly. He’d whisper all his hopes and fears to you, the future, what you wanted from it, what type of parents you were going to be.

He remembered promising you on a particularly bad night when you sobbed into his arms for hours due to your aching back and nausea that you just couldn’t seem to curb, that he’d build you that wrap-around style porch you’ve always wanted and dreamed about since he first met you. He told you he'd put a porch swing out there so your little family could sit out there and watch the sunrises and sunsets, something you've always wanted.

But nothing, absolutely nothing could've prepared him for this moment right here. She was so small, almost her entire body being able to fit in one of his hands, as she was wrapped in a plush white blanket with small yellow ducks on it, making her seem more like a babydoll than his daughter. Her little face was red and scrunched up from crying, but as soon as he held her close and near to him, she settled into his chest and her little body went still as she stopped her frantic squirming. And just like that, he knew the rest of his life would forever be changed by the little bundle he was holding in his arms.

His knees nearly gave out, as his throat tightened, while his heart felt like it was going to leap out of his chest. But she was finally here, all the months of crying, the months of planning, the months of you two building your perfect house. The hours of labor done to create her nursery. The hours he spent holding you and comforting you while you felt anything but yourself.

She was finally here, and she was the perfect mixture of both of you. When he looked down at her, his thumb coming up to trace her tiny face, it hit him hard. “I don’t deserve you or your Momma” he whispered in such a soft tone, like he was petrified he was going to startle her. He didn’t mean it in the way people say when they’re overwhelmed with emotions and just blurt something out, no, he meant it like a truth he carried in his bones for years since he met you that day in the coffee shop and fell in love with you.

He’d spent so many years believing he’d screw this part of life up. Telling himself that he’d never be a good dad because he didn’t know how too, because he didn’t have a good example himself. He didn’t believe he was cut out to be someone’s example of what a man and father should look like, he always said that he was too rough around the edges, that he’d be too quick to run at the first sign of a problem, that he'd just end up hurting you in the long-run.

But now, here he was, standing with you in the quiet hospital room, holding his daughter, his little girl. The word echoed over and over again in his head as he shifted her slightly, one hand cradling the back of her head, supporting her as he peered down and looked at her tiny form in his hands.

“Hi, Sunshine” he said, his voice a bit rough, as his eyes welled up with tears. “I’m your Daddy, babygirl” he watched as her little mouth opened in a sleepy yawn, while her small fingers curled into tiny fists resting against his chest.

“I didn' know I could love someone I just met, this much” he muttered quietly before sitting down slowly on the edge of the hospital couch, still staring at the small bundle in his arms.

He could see you resting nearby, exhausted but watching, and it broke in him again, because you looked at him like he was enough, like he could do this and like he’d be good enough, and what broke him the most, like you trusted him to be good enough.

He hadn’t known a love like this existed, it wasn’t like the love he had for you. That type of love already had its own place carved into his chest, and has had a spot there since the moment he met you. A big you shaped hole that he's had since he moment he first saw you. That love was steady, strong, warm, gentle and quiet. It felt like you wrapped around him, you telling him everything would be okay even when you didn't know if it would be, the moments of you two running off laughing like little kids, the moments where you’d pull him into the rain just to watch him smile as you danced around, the moments when you looked at him like he was your everything.

But this, this love was something else entirely. This love felt like terror and admiration. He felt the most instinctual kind of protection that made him feel like he’d throw himself in front of a train if it meant your daughter would never know a day of being hurt. This was something so pure and intense, that it frankly scared the hell out of him.

She blinked slowly peering up at him, her dark lashes fluttering against her cheeks. She had your nose, and your eyes. He knew that she had him wrapped around his finger entirely, just like you do, and she wasn’t even an hour old.

“I ain’t perfect, Sunshine. And m'gonna mess up, probably a lot.” He said as he swallowed hard. “But m'gonna try, every single day and gonna try my damndest to make sure you never go a day without knowin’ that you’re loved. You’re not gonna grow up wonderin’ if you’re good enough. I promise you that babygirl. You and u’re momma are the two most important things in my life. ”

 Her little face scrunched up before relaxing as he rocked her gently, his heart pounding as he kept whispering to her “I’m gonna teach you how to ride if you ever wanna learn, and m’gonna teach you how to change a tire. And I’m probably going to cry the first time you put on those little boots your momma and I got you and they actually fit.”

He leaned his head down until his forehead rested lightly against hers. “I’m scared outta my mind here, Sunshine. And I feel so out of my depth.” he whispered, his eyes stinging as he managed to choke out a soft “But I’ve never wanted to be good at anything more in my life than I wanna be good at being your Daddy, and being a good husband to your momma.”

She gurgled softly in her sleep, and he laughed quietly while the tears in his eyes finally fell. Your hand reached out, gently touching his arm. You were smiling, obviously exhausted, but smiling like Rhett has given you the world, and he turned toward you, looking at you like the rest of the world had disappeared besides you and your daughter. “She already adores you” you hummed out exhaustedly “She’s gonna be a daddy’s girl, I can just tell.” 

Rhett looked down again at the tiny human in his arms, the tiny little girl that the two of you made. “I love you two more than I thought was ever possible.” He kissed her forehead, as he looked at you, the tears streaming down his cheeks. And In that moment, Rhett Abbott, the rodeo cowboy, the deemed troublemaker, the youngest son of a rough family who had more to deal with than anyone knew? Well, right now in this hospital room he wasn’t any of those things, he was just a husband, and a Dad.

And he’d never been prouder of anything in his life than his two girls.

Taglist: @darkwhisperswolf

[littlepinkbirdie]

Little Heartbeat

Pairing: Lewis Pullman x Reader (Married) Genre: Fluff | Humor | Family Feels | Pregnancy Reveal Timeline: A few weeks after their 1-year wedding anniversary

You stood in the kitchen barefoot, hands nervously smoothing down the side of your sundress for the hundredth time. The soft hum of chatter and backyard laughter drifted in from the open screen door as Lewis appeared behind you — curls slightly tousled, shirt half tucked in, holding two lemonades like they were shields.

“You okay?” he asked, offering you one.

You took it and nodded. “Yeah. Just… kinda feels like we’re about to drop a bomb.”

“A tiny, adorable bomb with fingers the size of tic-tacs,” he said, then lowered his voice and added, “Still can’t believe there’s a whole human growing in you.”

You smiled down at your belly, barely showing but already the biggest secret you’d ever kept.

“I feel like I’m lying to everyone,” you whispered. “They think we’re just hosting a barbecue because we missed Easter.”

“Well, technically, we are feeding them,” Lewis said, motioning to the table full of ribs, coleslaw, and your mom’s famous potato salad. “We're just also about to break their brains.”

He kissed your temple, gently. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You glanced toward the cake on the patio table. White frosting, lemon filling, and a single sentence piped in gold script: “See you in January, Baby Pullman 💛”

It was subtle. Simple. Elegant. And totally out of place next to the basket of hot dog buns.

You laughed nervously. “They’re either going to cry… or someone’s going to choke on a deviled egg.”

About twenty minutes later, you stood beside Lewis as everyone gathered around the cake.

“Okay!” you called, trying to sound casual as Lewis wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “We figured it was time to cut dessert!”

Your best friend rolled her eyes. “You two are so dramatic with your cakes. Remember your engagement one?”

“Hey,” Lewis said, grinning, “we like a good surprise.”

He stepped aside to hand you the knife. You sliced through the soft frosting, and your mom leaned in with a phone to take pictures—until she paused, squinting at the inscription.

Her eyes widened. “Wait… wait a minute.”

Silence fell over the group like a dropped curtain.

Your dad leaned in next. Your sister gasped. Your best friend dropped her solo cup.

“Oh my God,” someone whispered.

“You’re pregnant?” your mom said, voice trembling. “Is this—are you serious?”

You and Lewis shared a glance before nodding.

“I’m twelve weeks,” you said softly, eyes already stinging. “We wanted to wait until it felt real… and now it really, really does.”

The backyard erupted. Cheers, tears, a dropped beer bottle, and someone — you suspected your sister — screamed, “I KNEW IT! She wasn’t drinking mimosas at brunch!”

Your mom covered her mouth as tears spilled down her cheeks, hugging you tight and whispering, “My baby’s having a baby.”

Lewis was immediately pulled into a hug by your dad, who clapped him on the back so hard he nearly dropped his lemonade.

“I’m gonna be a grandpa?” your dad said, half-choked up. “Does this mean I can finally buy that ridiculous rocking chair?”

Lewis laughed through his own tears. “Buy two. I’m gonna need one too.”

Later, when the sun was setting and the cake was mostly crumbs, you and Lewis sat on the porch swing wrapped in a blanket of contentment and half-melted twilight.

“Everyone handled it better than I thought,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder.

“No one fainted. Only one person cried into a hamburger. I’d call that a win.”

You laughed, but then he turned to you — his expression soft and full of something that looked an awful lot like awe.

“You’re going to be such a good mom,” he said quietly, like it was just for you.

And when you looked at him, glowing under the warm golden light, hand resting over your belly, you knew two things for certain: You were no longer just the two of you. And this, this was the start of everything.

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

You were curled up in the passenger seat of Lewis’s truck, hand resting over your still-small bump, as the driveway came into view — his parents’ cottage framed by pine trees and early summer sun.

He reached over and laced your fingers together, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“You sure you’re ready?” he asked.

You smiled at him. “Only been thinking about this since the minute we found out.”

“You’re gonna make my mom cry, you know,” he said, pulling into the gravel. “Like... not sniffly cry. Full-on waterfall.”

“I packed tissues,” you grinned. “For both of you.”

An hour later, the four of you were seated around the back porch table, lemonade in hand, feet bare in the cool grass. Lewis’s mom had made her famous blueberry crumble. His dad was flipping grilled veggies. It felt like the kind of afternoon that hung in the air like a secret — quiet, golden, sacred.

You exchanged a glance with Lewis. He gave the tiniest nod.

“Okay,” he said, clearing his throat. “We have something we wanted to tell you. Something kind of big.”

His mom leaned forward, eyes already suspiciously wide. “Okay…?”

Lewis looked at you. You smiled and placed his hand gently over your belly.

“We’re having a baby,” you said softly.

For a second, the porch fell completely still.

And then—

“Oh my God,” his mom whispered, covering her mouth with shaking hands. “Are you serious?”

Lewis was already getting pulled into a hug before he could answer.

His dad stepped back from the grill, stunned. “Wait. You’re—? You’re gonna be a dad?”

Lewis laughed, nodding, voice choked. “Yeah. We are.”

His mom’s hands were on your cheeks, her eyes shining. “Oh, sweetheart,” she whispered, pulling you into the kind of hug that felt like home. “You’re giving me a grandbaby.”

“I didn’t want to say anything,” she sniffled, “but I had a feeling. You were glowing when you walked in.”

“I think that was sweat,” you joked through your own tears.

His dad eventually wrapped both of you in a big, warm bear hug, voice thick with emotion. “We’re so happy for you, honey. You two are gonna be such good parents.”

“You’ll come visit, right?” his mom asked, wiping her eyes. “Whenever you want. For help. For rest. For—anything.”

“You’ll probably get sick of us,” Lewis said.

“Never,” she promised. “You’ll just have to pry the baby out of my arms.”

Later that night, you were curled up on the couch beside Lewis, your head on his chest, the fire crackling in front of you. From the kitchen, you could still hear his mom humming — baking banana bread for the baby, because she said she needed to “practice grandma recipes.”

Lewis kissed the top of your head. “You did perfect today.”

You smiled into his chest. “So did you.”

“I still can’t believe it,” he whispered. “We’re building a whole little person.”

You turned your head to look up at him, eyes soft. “And they’re already so loved.”

AUTHOR NOTE: okay so im obsessed im making this a series.

[batuubaby7567]

i just had a thought.

thunderbolts spoilers i guess

what if bobs parents are still alive. out there somewhere. and they wake up one day to see the new avengers headlines and to the side of the new team is their son. their bob. who knows the last time he was in contact with his mom at the very least, i hope he hasn’t interacted with his dad for a loooooong time. that must be the weirdest thing. and especially because he’s not actually an avenger (yet). that must honestly feel so silly. everyone in the world is wondering who the heck is this guy. and maybe his parents are wondering this too. i would ask if there’s any sense of pride but honestly it probably just confusion. like how on earth did he get there. idk. just a thought that popped into my head.

[metalarmsrcool]

okay so first of all CABNW/Thunderbolts is totally bringing the fandom back to life (TOWER FICS ARE BACK BB)

second of all I just got this idea for a bob x reader where reader is like Bucky’s daughter in a way, and he’s been teaching her how to use her powers (invisibility/force fields) and then she meets bob and they bond over their shared trauma. LIKE THEY BOTH JUST SO CUTE AND they both like gen z babies so they’re always sending each other memes and Bucky is like a father figure to bob as well UGH DO I WRITE IT I CAN JUST PICTURES THEM BEING SO CUTE

[acoyoteeeeeeeeee]

went to see Thunderbolts* today and the entire time (cus i dont look at anything) i was thinking "fuck this guy looks like my first ever crush, Bill Pullman... the guy from Caspar... Dr Harvey, yes, my first ever crush from when i was a kid... thats so funny...

hold on"

[goddesspharo]

Lewis Pullman at The Line NYC VIP Screening - 📸 Eugene Gologursky