#dad!noah

[lostinthemelody]

Imagine Dad!Noah asking you to bring your son, Levi, to the last shows of the tour and showing him off to the crowd.

♡ Noah had been missing the two of you the whole time he was away on tour. Late-night phone calls and FaceTime calls with you and Levi were the only thing keeping him sane.

♡ He misses the both of you more than he's willing to admit, so one night on a FaceTime call he asks if you and Levi would like to come to the last show.

♡ You tell him that the both of you would love to. You missed him too, and even though Levi is still too little to understand, he misses his dad too.

♡ When the day comes, Levi has a very eventful day. Crew and venue staff cooing at him all day, "helping" the FOH with soundcheck, a.k.a. Levi babbles into the mics. Your toddler was never put down either; he was always in someone's arms. He was being passed between you, his dad, his uncles, and the other bands. Levi was absolutely loving all the attention.

♡ Your heart is full while you're in the green room with Noah and the rest of the guys. Folio lets Levi play with some drumsticks that now have some teeth marks. Ruffilo and Jolly let him strum the strings on the guitar and bass. Levi also blows raspberries at Noah while he's doing his vocal warm-ups, trying to mimic the sounds his dad is making.

♡ Noah helps you put on Levi’s ear protection as the countdown to showtime begins. He also gives you and Levi a kiss and a very tight hug before going out on stage. He claims it's for good luck before sending you over to the FOH to watch the show.

♡ Levi stays up for a good portion of the set, clapping, bouncing, watching the lights in awe. But about halfway through, he starts to doze off in your arms, trying to fight sleep so he doesn’t miss anything.

♡ Right before the intermission before Just Pretend, security asks the tech to relay a message: Noah wants you to move to side stage. You follow, assuming he noticed Levi falling asleep, but you can’t help wondering why side stage instead of the green room.

♡ You make it to side stage, standing there with Levi, who lost the fight to sleep, in your arms. Noah is doing his usual crowd work, reading signs and passing out drumsticks when he spots you guys.

♡ He smiles softly at you. For a moment, it’s just the 3 of you, his perfect little family. Your relationship was never a secret, just something you both kept close. But right now, he wants to share that with the world.

♡ "Okay," he says into the mic, turning back to the crowd. "I have someone I'd like to introduce you to before we start our next song, but you have to promise you'll be quiet." The crowd goes curiously silent as he walks towards you.

♡ "Are you sure?" You ask him once he's in earshot.

♡ Noah looks at you, then at his sleeping son. "Yeah, I'm sure," he says softly before taking Levi from your arms.

♡ Levi wakes up when he transfers from your arms to his dad's, rubbing his sleepy eyes as his dad takes him on stage with him.You can hear the squeals and gasps from the crowd.

♡ "Everyone, this is my son, Levi. Levi, can you say hi?" Noah holds the mic up to Levi, and he waves and babbles out a sleepy "hey" before burying his face in Noah’s neck to get away from the bright lights.

♡ The crowd loses it. The cheering and screaming are almost enough to shake the whole building, totally breaking the promise they made moments ago.

♡ Noah stands there with Levi, pride swelling in his chest. He's happy to share this moment with his son.

♡ "Alright, alright, that's enough," he says into the mic. "It's way past his bedtime. Levi, can you say 'bye-bye'?" He holds the mic up to Levi one more time, and Levi lets out a small, sleepy, quiet "bye-bye." Noah smiles and gives him a kiss on the forehead, then squishes his chubby baby cheeks before handing him back to you.

♡ He gives you a quick kiss and tells you to take Levi to the green room so he can sleep. You agree and give him one more quick good luck kiss. That gives Noah the energy to finish the concert.

♡ At the end of the night, Noah finds you and Levi curled up on the couch in the green room.

♡ Noah wakes you gently, telling you it's time to go home. You stretch and then look down at Levi, who's still fast asleep. Noah takes Levi into his arms gently, careful not to wake him this time.

♡ You get up and give Noah a kiss again, and his free arm wraps around your waist.

♡ "You know, I think Levi needs a sibling," he says, a playful smirk forming on his lips. Your face goes red and your heart stutters.

♡ "Don't worry," he continues, "we can talk about it more. I've got time off now." He pulls you in closer by your waist, brushing his lips against yours.

♡ "We'll figure it out," he mumbles against your lips before closing the gap. It's warm, certain, dangerous.

♡ Then Levi stirs in Noah's arms. A small, sleepy sound pulls you back into reality. Both of you glance over to him to see if he would wake, but he gets comfortable in Noah's arms then falls back into a deep sleep.

♡ "Come on, let's go home," Noah says, giving your waist a light squeeze before letting you go. You take his hand and start making your way out of the venue. A perfect little family.

I was trying to get this out before my medications kicked and I made it 😌 It's not proof read but I'll do that later. I'm still not super confident in my writing but I still hope y'all in enjoyed 🫶🏼❤️

Divider from: slient-stories

[alwaysfightforwhoyouare]

Gosh I love him. Sometimes.

📸ashavildsen

[concretejunglefm]

Ok, but girl dad noah, but specifically THIS ONE. Every time he goes to his daughter's school, the children are afraid of him because they say he looks like a vampire. His daughter says, "Yes, he is a vampire, and he already bit my mommy, and when I grow up he's going to bite me too, and that way we'll all live together for many years, MUAHAHAHA." And that's why they called him to the school, for scaring her classmates 😂

hii bb 💕 oh i love this, reminds me of something i did as a kid and the teacher called my mom in 🫣 kids and their overactive imaginations, right? i hope you enjoy this 🤭

cw: 18 + 𝖒𝖉𝖓𝖎. dad!noah, mom!reader, ‘mean’ teacher, all fluff.

The tapping from Noah’s foot echoes down the hallway, his knee jiggling as he sits beside you outside the classroom. It’s a nervous tic, something you’re well attuned to, and reaching out, you rest your hand on his knee, the pressure stilling him, pulling him back to the present.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, slinking back into the plastic chair, arms crossing over his chest. “Just… why did they call us here?”

It isn’t unlike Noah to spiral, particularly when it comes to your daughter, and even though it’s been well over a decade since he was last in a school setting, the words ‘I need to speak with you after class’ still have a way of triggering that familiar fight or flight response he carried from his preteens into his teenage years.

“Noah…” you say softly, like you’re calling him back to you. Your hand squeezes his knee, drawing his attention your way. “Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.” You study him the same way you study your daughter, that maternal instinct searching for something out of place, an imperfection you can gently guide away. You find it, and your hand comes up to his cheek, cupping his face in a soothing touch meant to bat away the negative thoughts, while simultaneously wiping something from the corner of his mouth, probably leftover from the coffee he was sipping on the way over. “Lou’s an angel. We know that,” you add.

You do know that, but Noah also knows she shares half of his DNA, which means she’s just as likely to be a handful, to speak without a filter, much like he did at that age. To the adults around you, who only know you as casual acquaintances, she’s cheeky. To you, to your family, to close friends, your daughter is funny and wise beyond her years, unafraid to speak her mind. Only there’s a time and place for that kind of behavior, and the classroom isn’t one of them.

You were both under the impression that at school she’s nothing more than a well behaved delight, yet when the classroom door opens and her teacher steps out, there’s a mild look of disappointment on her face.

“Mom and Dad,” Ms. Avery addresses you both after a brief, polite introduction, gesturing toward the open door of her classroom. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

Noah’s stomach sink as your hand slips from his knee, but as you rise from the chair, he reaches out and catches it, his grounding lifeline in a situation that, logically, he knows he shouldn’t be worried about. You’ve never cared for the policing of parents, and neither has he, yet being called in by a teacher still presses that one nerve that has always stuck with him, the notion of being in trouble with an adult.

It’s a foolish concept, an adult can’t actually be ‘in trouble’ with another adult, there’s no dynamic in which a stranger, an acquaintance, or even a friend holds that kind of authority over you. Still, squeezing your hand, he offers a smile as you glance back and return the pressure with the same reassuring force, and he follows you into the classroom.

The chairs are small, both in size and height, and given Noah’s tall stature, his knees feel almost up to his ears. He imagines it must be a cartoonish sight, the two of you perched there while Ms. Avery sits opposite, on the other side of her desk, elevated like an authority figure.

She clears her throat and peers down through the glasses perched on her nose. Flaming ginger curls crown her head, a wrinkle etched into her brow that suggests a constant frown. Lou had once compared her to a character from a book Noah had been reading with her, a character who was mean and therefore ugly, inside and out. That comment had led to a lesson on how it’s rude and unkind to remark on people’s appearances, and while his daughter’s cartoonish description of her teacher feels far from the reality of the woman sitting before them, her intimidating presence certainly doesn’t.

It takes Noah a moment to realize she’s already begun to speak, her voice pointed, an air of contempt clinging to the words she reads from the page in front of her. 

“My daddy is a vampire. My mommy is a vampire too. He bit her once, and they said that when I grow old enough, he will bite me too, and I’ll become a vampire like them and live for many, many, many years.”

Lowering the paper slowly between her fingers, Ms. Avery raises a brow and tilts her head, staring back at the two of you. The only thing readable in her expression is the same disappointment she wore when she stepped out into the hallway, and Noah briefly wonders if that’s simply how she always looks.

The silence is heavy, intimidating, like she’s staring Noah down, waiting for him to confess to something he isn’t guilty of. He doesn’t fully understand what it is she’s read, and yet he feels responsible all the same, his hands gripping the sides of his chair until you speak up, more confident than he is, and break the silence.

“Um… what—”

She cuts you off, leaving no room for the question, answering it in one fell swoop. “It’s what Lou said to another of her classmates. A few of them, actually. She has been frightening a number of my students with this kind of talk.”

“Are you sure it’s just her frightening them?” Noah mumbles under his breath. He feels you nudge your elbow into his side, but from the corner of his eye he catches the flicker of a grin, like you know you shouldn’t be laughing, but can’t help it. Across the desk, Ms. Avery looks far from impressed, pure indignation etched across her face, clearly having ears sharp enough to catch the remark.

“I don’t know what you have told her,” she says, “but she seems to be under the impression that you are vampires. That she will, one day, be a vampire too.” There’s an unmistakable tone of ridicule in her voice before she leans forward, elbows braced on the desk, hands folding beneath her chin as she fixes her gaze on you both—her targets. In the ensuing silence, it feels as though she’s studying you, perhaps Noah especially, his tattoos fully on display, before she delivers the accusation. “Is she perhaps overhearing conversations she shouldn’t at home?”

There’s a quick, defensive flare in Noah, but you jump in first, your tone even. “Absolutely not.”

Noah’s face twists slightly despite himself, prompting Ms. Avery to redirect her attention to him, one brow lifting as if waiting for his confession.

“We did watch a vampire movie over the weekend,” he admits, “and I may have said something along those lines…”

“Noah!” you gasp, though he can tell it’s more about the admission of guilt, especially since it had been a joint decision. It had felt harmless, letting Lou stay in the livingroom with the two of you while you watched Interview with the Vampire late one night, even when it turned into a playful obsession with the idea that you are a family of vampires, and that Noah is unmistakably one.

“He only wears black, he stays inside during the day, he locks himself in the basement sometimes, and he bites Mommy on the neck.” Those had been her deductions, and instead of squashing her creativity, you’d both encouraged it, never once considering it might travel beyond the four walls of your home, or Noah’s closest friends.

“Yes, well… I suppose I don’t need to inform you why those movies are dangerous, especially for impressionable young minds,” Ms. Avery huffs.

You both fight the urge to roll your eyes. You do know that, you also know your daughter, less afraid of monsters and horror than most kids her age, and far more aware of real, everyday dangers.

“We’ll have a word with her when we get home,” you say, so sincerely that Noah almost believes it himself, like you’re actually going to scold your child for having an overactive imagination, something Ms. Avery clearly doesn’t encourage, judging by the bland classroom walls Noah catches when glancing around.

“Thank you. I hope this doesn’t happen again, because the parents of the other children are rather upset, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Absolutely…” Noah murmurs. It doesn’t sound nearly as convincing as you, and he doubts his resting bitch face helps the moment. He can’t comment on how other people parent their kids or what they find unacceptable, but he also can’t imagine Lou’s playfulness being all that damning. Still, he nods, offering a tight grin, silently agreeing to the ‘talk’ you’ll have with her later.

Once you’re both excused, Noah can’t get out of the classroom fast enough, nearly tripping over his own feet as you hurry after him, your arms slipping around his waist as you draw closer.

“I thought she was going to keep us in there and give us detention,” he confesses once you’re safely out of earshot.

You just chuckle, your arms squeezing him as he wraps a long arm around you. “Oh? Was the big bad vampire scared of a little teacher?” you tease, giggling as you tilt your head back to look up at him.

It’s a sound that still makes his insides warm, and he scoffs. “Absolutely terrified,” he admits, laughing with you before dipping down, his mouth brushing closer to the side of your neck. “Now stay still,” he murmurs. “This big bad vampire is hungry.” He snaps his teeth together playfully, tightening his hold as you giggle and wriggle, letting out a playful squeal while the two of you wander toward the exit together.

[leosunshine]

Girldad!Noah x mom!reader thought✨

Imagine Noah with twin girls and reader also being a touring musician in a band and they both stayed home pretty much through the whole pregnancy and like the first year of the little ones or so and reader is actually the first one to go back to touring so noah and the girls visit her during like the first show or so and he stands side stage with them sheering mommy on I can't my heart😭🥹🥲

Also like imagine all the fans also being so excited (and in my world ofc also super respectful as it should be) too finally see the whole family even if its just a glimpse from backstage I would actually die😫

And as reader is coming off stage after the show she is greeted with two passed out lil princesses in Noahs arms both with their huge headphones on snoring away peacefully in his embrace and she just gets to cuddle into them as Noah congratulates her on the successful show and gives her a kiss on the temple WOAH WHAT A LIFE THAT WOULD BE

[darksigns-exe]

dad!noah headcanons - bedtime edition

✯ He’s an absolute champ at bedtime. To the point where your daughter insists that he’s the one who tucks her in

✯ They have little talks about her day while he gets her ready for bed. He wants to know what’s happening in her little life, how she sees the things they do. Also, it makes everything a little easier because she’s thinking more about her day than the fact that he’s getting her ready for the worst thing in the world: brushing her teeth

✯ They always pick out a story or two. Noah does voices for the stories, and sometimes it's a little counterproductive because it turns her into a giggly little mess when she should be getting sleepier. 

✯ More often than not, he sings her a little lullaby. Sometimes it's just a little hummed tune, other times it’s a “real” lullaby or some other tune. 

✯ He stays until she’s fast asleep, and sometimes he’s just so comfy that you have to wake him up an hour after he went upstairs to tuck your daughter in. A part of you wants to let him sleep -- they just look so comfortable and cosy -- but you know that he'll complain about his back in the morning.

✯ Naturally, Noah has planned for the inevitable case of him being away on tour. The evening after he’s left, as you’re preparing yourself to break the bad news to your daughter, Noah lets you in on a secret project of his. He has prepared two CDs. One with her favourite bedtime stories and another with a collection of lullabies just for your daughter. And maybe he’s even included an original – that maybe later makes its way onto a BO album in a slightly altered version because the original will always be for your daughter's ears only.

[flowery-mess]

dad!noah vibes when his daughter wanted matching nails, but didn't have enough patience to do both of his hands🥹

@silent-stories Luna?🥺🥺🥺🥺 I can see her doing just one hand and calling it "fashion" right before she goes to have a snack

[veephoenix]

bubbles & snow — noah sebastian

Summary: Noah comes home from work right on time to give his babygirl a bath with lots of bubbles 🫧

Words: 1.8k | pairing: noah sebastian x reader + their daughter | my works | 🏷️ tags: girldad!noah, bathtime, tooth-rooting fluff | Author's note: these thoughts wouldn't leave my mind since yesterday so here it goes ✨

Bubbles & Snow

I had just finished undressing our nearly three-year-old daughter, getting her ready for her evening bath, when the front door downstairs shut, announcing someone’s arrival. The sound was followed by the familiar zipper being undone and shoes being kicked off.

Our little girl snapped her head up toward me as I continued crouched on the floor, gathering her clothes to toss in the laundry hamper. Her big brown eyes went wide with excitement, eyebrows shooting up as if she’d just made a grand discovery.

“Daddy,” she half-whispered half-exclaimed, as though I didn’t already know who had just come home.

Before I could stop her, she was off—bare feet pattering across the floor as she darted out of our bedroom and into the hallway. I called after her, reminding her to be careful, but there was no slowing her down. Noah had been gone all day, and she missed him like crazy.

Our house had two levels. The upstairs, where the bedrooms were located, had a hallway that opened up to a loft-style landing with a wooden railing, overlooking the spacious living room below. From there, you could see the main entrance and most of the ground floor.

My baby skidded to a stop at the railing, grabbing the wooden bars and peering down, eyes bright and full of anticipation.

“Daddy!”

Noah stepped into the living room, smiling brightly as he looked up at her. His hands rested loosely on his hips.

“Who’s this little lady, running around the house with no clothes on?!” he asked, mock-scandalized.

“’S me, daddy!” she declared proudly. “‘S bath time!”

“Bath time?” he echoed, eyes widening in exaggerated surprise. “No way—that’s my favorite time!”

Without missing a beat, he tugged off his white T-shirt dramatically, then he made a theatrical dash for the stairs, trying to peel off his socks mid-run, nearly tripping in the process, sending our daughter into a fit of giggles.

“Faster, Daddy!”

“I’m trying!” he said with urgency, stumbling over his own feet. She squealed with laughter, jumping in place, her long wavy hair tumbling down her back like a waterfall. We hadn’t taken her to a hairstylist for a while and it really was time for a trim.

“Daddy, you’re silly!”

“I think I broke my ankle!” 

“No, you didn’t!” she shot back, unable to contain her laughter.

Grinning, he scooped her up into his arms the second he reached the landing. She melted against his bare chest, squealing and squirming as he greeted her by covering her cheeks in loud kisses. Then, with one arm wrapped tightly around her, he made his way toward our suite.

Seeing Noah holding our daughter like that—her always looking so small in his arms even as the years passed—was a sight that never failed to send a flutter of butterflies through my chest.

As he approached me, looking intently into my eyes, he caught the hem of my loose T-shirt between his fingers, tugging me toward him for a kiss.

“Hi, love.”

“Hi,” I said, smiling. “How was work?”

“Good. But now that I’m home with my girls?” He made our daughter bounce on his arm. “Even better.”

My heart melted a little. Just a little.

“I was just about to give her her evening bath. The tub’s already full and at the right temperature.”

“Bubbles!” Our baby girl squealed, throwing her arms in the air.

“Perfect. I’ll hop in with her,” Noah said, nudging his head toward the bathroom. I could tell by the way he looked at me that he meant: Take a break, you’ve earned it.

I’d been with her all day, and while I loved spending time with her and didn’t want to miss a second of her childhood, I couldn’t deny how much I appreciated a few quiet minutes to myself.

I whispered a “thank you” as I stepped aside with her tiny clothes bundled in my arms and left them to their bubbly, lavender-steamed bath. 

Five minutes later, I was stretched out on the sectional in our living room, trying to lose myself in the book in my hands. I’d cracked it open with every intention of escaping into another world for a while as Noah washed our baby and got her hydrated and ready with her pjs, but focusing was proving to be a challenge. 

From upstairs came the sound of laughter and splashing water (Noah had left the bathroom and bedroom doors open, so their world kept spilling warmly into mine.). I could hear our daughter squealing, filling the house with her sweet sounds. I tried to concentrate, my eyes scanning the same paragraph for the third time, but my attention kept drifting back to the chaos above me.

“Daddy, you’re a snowman!” I heard her say, her voice bubbling with delight.

Immediately, the image of Noah sitting in the tub, legs bent, absolutely covered in white foam, bubbles piling up on his head and shoulders popped into my head. I bit back a smile, the corners of my mouth twitching.

I turned another page I hadn’t actually read, the words blurring as sounds continued to drift down from upstairs as the minutes passed.

There was the gentle splashing of water, Noah’s deep, low voice, and our daughter’s endless giggles and mispronounced words bouncing off the walls. 

“Okay,” Noah said, in his best dad voice, “arms up!”

“Nooo!” she squealed, knowing what came next.

“Come on, arms up! We’ve got to clean those little armpits. Very important business.”

“No, Daddy, that tickles!”

“You know I’m just doing my job. It’s either that or you’re going to be a smelly baby.”

“M’not smelly!” She countered, and I could see her pout and the glare she was probably sending to Noah so clearly in my head.

“You won’t be if you let me wash you properly. Arms up, come on.”

“No tickles, ok, daddy?”

“Okay. No tickles, I promise.”

“Good Daddy.”

I heard Noah laughing to himself as she praised him with that authoritative voice she must have picked up from him, probably from when the rest of the boys were around and he bossed them around about business.

“Arms up now, and close your eyes.”

Before he even touched her, I could tell she was already squealing and trying to clamp her arms to her sides.

“Daddy, no!!”

Noah didn’t reply. He focused on washing her, making sure she didn’t slip under his touch and sink into the water. He told her to be still a couple of times, using his serious dad tone.

“Not again, Daddy,” she whined after a minute. “I want to be smelly.”

Noah’s snort reached the living room.

“Smelly babies can’t sleep with their mom and dad on the weekends. Did you know that?”

“Yes, they can! Don’t tell lies, Daddy!”

Noah shook his head, trying to contain a smile, biting his lower lip as he looked down at the tiny creature submerged in water up to her chest, facing him as she sat caged between his bent legs.

“Jesus,” he muttered, starting to wash himself, “so dramatic for a two-year-old.”

“I’m not dramatic!” she shouted. Splash.

“Yes, you are.”

“No! I’m Elsa!” she declared suddenly. I could tell she tried to stand up too quickly, because I heard Noah say, “Easy there.”

“I have snow powers!” she continued. “Look!”

I was so tempted to get up and go upstairs to peek and watch the scene unfold with my own eyes. But I stayed put, imagining exactly what was happening in the bathroom.

“Oh no…” Noah said, voice slow and warning. “Oh, no! She’s freezing me! Somebody help!” 

“I’m throwing snow at you, Daddy!”

“Aaahh!” he shouted, making the water slosh so much that some of it spilled out of the tub.  “I’m freezing! I’m drowning in snow!”

I snorted, letting the book drop from my hands to the cushions beneath my legs. Noah’s tall frame was probably awkwardly folded into our standard-sized bathtub, and now he was pretending to be defeated dramatically with snow and suds thrown by our daughter in some imaginary battle. 

About twenty minutes later, I heard the creak of the stairs and the soft pad of footsteps.

When I looked up, I saw Noah and our daughter coming down to meet me in the living room.

Noah had a white towel wrapped around his waist, and another twisted into a bulky turban on his head. In his arms, our daughter was bundled up like a burrito, tucked in tight in her towel, arms free, a miniature towel-turban wobbling on her head, slightly off-center. They looked like posh spa models. 

“Mommy, we match,” our baby announced, putting a hand on her towel-turban.

“I can see that,” I chuckled.

“She insisted,” Noah replied, shrugging. “Couldn’t say no.” 

“I am clean now,” she said proudly, her skin shiny and hydrated. “I’m not smelly. Can I sleep with you and Daddy?”

I shared a knowing look with Noah, and all I got back was that warm, love-filled expression. He could try to teach our daughter that she wouldn’t get to spend the night with us unless she was good and followed the rules, but the truth was, Noah was the one having the hardest time letting her transition from our room to her own.

He loved morning snuggles and waking up to little fingers pushing at his side, telling him the sun was up and reminding him that Nick would scold him for being late to the studio if he didn’t get moving.

She stretched her arms toward me as Noah rounded the sofa and stopped in front of me, gently handing her over. I scooped her up, and she toppled into my lap.

“Of course you can, sweetheart,” I said to her, kissing her pink chubby cheek. “Mm, you smell good, that’s true.”

“I smell like a flower, Mommy?”

“Like a lavender burrito, if you ask me,” Noah replied, flopping down next to us, legs spread, sinking into the cushions. He looked at us for a beat before lifting an arm to adjust our baby’s turban. “You should’ve seen her in action,” he said to me. “She froze me with snow powers. I barely survived.”

“No way.” I took her by the arms and lifted her so her toes touched my thighs. “Is that true? You froze Daddy?”

“But it wasn’t real, Mommy. Just suds and bubbles. I didn’t hurt Daddy.”

Noah draped his arm around my shoulders and tilted his head until it touched mine, both of us gazing lovingly at our daughter.

“You didn’t, baby,” Noah reassured her in a low, gentle voice.

“But he tickled me. Here,” she said, pointing to her left armpit.

“No, I didn’t,” Noah shot back quickly, raising an eyebrow and pointing at her. “I cleaned you. That’s different.”

“I don’t like it.”

“But now you’re clean and smelling so nice, aren’t you?” I said, bouncing her gently on my lap. “Tell you what,” I added, pulling her closer and brushing my lips against her ear, sending Noah a mischievous glance, “why don’t we tickle Daddy tonight when we go to bed?”

Immediately, her face lit up, and within seconds, a grin spread across her entire face.

“Yes!” she exclaimed.

“Two against one? That’s not fair!” Noah replied.

[takeme1st]

The cutest Somewhere down the line moodboard by @r3prise!!! 🥹 ugh it’s so sweet! Can’t wait to continue writing this story. 🩷