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mcueveryday · 1 day

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Continuing on with my baby fever I came across videos of parents "laying" (softly hovering) on their babies lap to see their reaction. Some babies are gentle with one parent and push of the other parent. But I wanna see how Eliza would react to the entire Munson family doing this. Thank you!

Baby fever you say? 👀 Step into my office…

Honestly, looking up reference videos for this fic was the most heart melting thing ever and I thank you for bringing that into my life. I hope I have done this justice for you!

Words: 3.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Ugh,” Luke groans as he flops down on the floor of Eliza’s nursery. The Minnie Mouse shirt and pair of toddler jeans he’s holding smack him in the face as his dramatics bring him down.

Eliza sits on her miniature butterfly couch and watches her brother, face stoic as the two-year-old is used to the theatrics he’s inherited from their father.

“What is taking so long?” Ryan strolls into the room and leans against the door jamb. He crosses his arms over his chest and arches an eyebrow as he clocks his brother on the ground.

Flinging the articles of clothing behind him, Luke huffs and turns his head to meet Ryan’s questioning look.

“Every outfit I pick out she doesn’t like!”

Heaving a loud sigh, Ryan saunters over to the closet tucked into the corner of the pink room. Curious as to what he’s doing, Eliza cranes her neck in an attempt to see past her oldest brother. Try as she might though, she doesn’t have x-ray vision and has to wait for Ryan to turn around to see the black and white striped dress and pastel green sweater.

“Eh?” Ryan raises his eyebrows as he holds the items out towards the toddler.

Keeping her chin high, little Eliza looks over the proposed outfit before nodding her affirmation once.

“What?” Luke shouts as he bolts upright. “The Minnie Mouse shirt is way better!”

Ryan throws a smirk over his shoulder at his younger brother as he helps Eliza get changed into the winning look of the day.

“She must love me more.”

“Uh, no,” Eliza hums as her head pops free from the confines of the dress. “Better clothes.”

Luke cackles with laughter, arms crossing against his stomach as he falls on his back once more.

“Oh, that’s too good! Please, we all know I’m her favorite,” Luke says.

At only two-years-old Eliza is already used to her brothers competing in almost every aspect of life. She rolls her doe brown eyes and allows Ryan to help her into the green sweater before leaving the two boys alone in her room.

“I seem to recall us having this argument before and Grandpa somehow coming out the winner,” Ryan says, following the little girl’s lead and heading towards the door.

“Well,” Luke says, stretching out the word as he scrambles to push himself up into a standing position, “then this time we don’t allow him to be part of our bet.”

The older Munson brother shakes his head in amusement as he walks out into the hall and to the right, towards the rest of the house. Luke is right behind him though, practically nipping at his heels as he waits for some kind of response.

“What bet?” Ryan asks, stepping into the kitchen.

“Yeah, what bet?” Eddie echoes, eyeing his two sons over his “#1 Dad” coffee mug where he leans against the counter.

“Seeing who Eliza’s favorite is. And not Grandpa this time,” Luke informs his dad as he slides into a chair at the table.

“I believe that would be me,” you say with a proud smirk, traipsing in from the living room with an empty sippy cup. “I just turned on Rolie Polie Olie for her.”

“No one can compete with the Rol,” Eddie jokes, giving you a playful wink and a smile.

“She definitely loves that show more than she loves any of us,” Ryan says. He yanks the refrigerator door open and stares inside as if something new is magically going to appear before his eyes.

“I bet I could interrupt it and she’d be okay with it,” your husband says. “And will you either grab something out of the fridge or close the damn door?”

“So, you’re saying you’re the favorite, Dad?” Luke asks, eyebrows disappearing into the curls that are getting too long for his liking.

“Isn’t that old news?” Eddie asks with a smirk as he walks over to grab Luke’s box of Lucky Charms.

“Everything about you is old,” Ryan says.

The joke has your hand slipping, causing the apple juice you were refilling Eliza’s sippy cup with to spill all over the counter. Avoiding Eddie’s eyes, you try to hide your snort of laughter as you grab a towel to mop up the mess. Once the sippy cup is successfully filled up, you turn back towards the living room—Eddie’s eyes still firmly burning your back—and go to give your daughter her drink.

“Didn’t we already do this? I feel like we played this game before,” you say. “Eliza picked Wayne over all of us.”

Eddie shrugs and takes another sip of his coffee. “No beating the old man. The actual old man.” Eddie narrows his eyes at Ryan, who just chuckles in return.

“No,” Luke says. He shakes his head as he lets the marshmallow cereal fall into his bowl. “We have to know who her favorite in the house is.”

“Any ideas?” Ryan asks, plopping down in the seat across the table from his little brother.

“Hmm,” Luke hums as he chews on a bite of his breakfast. “I’ll brainstorm at school today.”

In the end, it’s you who comes up with the idea that sets the competition into motion. Once Eddie heads out to work and the boys to school, you realize how much you’re able to get done around the house because Eliza is thoroughly hypnotized by her favorite show. It’s not until the hour of Rolie Polie Olie is done that Eliza is running around the house, wanting to play with every toy under the roof.

After dinner that night, and once Eliza is in bed, you bring your idea up to the boys.

“So, like, we take turns? One person a day?” Luke asks.

You nod in confirmation.

“Right. Because if we all did it one after the other on the same day, she’d get cranky and it wouldn’t be fair for whoever goes last.”

“What, we like, pick straws?” Ryan asks. “Then someone goes Tuesday, then Wednesday...?”

“I’m game,” Eddie says. He lifts one flannel-clad arm and rests it behind you on the couch, giving you the perfect opportunity to snuggle into his side.

“So…” Luke muses as he walks over to the couch and takes a seat next to you, on the opposite side of Eddie. “We just put our heads in her lap like this?” The younger Munson boy demonstrates by laying his curly head on your thighs, staring up at you with wide blue eyes.

“Exactly,” you say, reaching down to boop the tip of his nose. “See if she cuddles you or pushes you off. And then we’ll see who she has the best reaction to.”

“I like it,” Ryan says.

“Me too,” Luke agrees. “Ryan, go get straws. Cut one short!”

With an irritated eye roll, Ryan does as his little brother says, feet shuffling along the carpet as he goes.

The plan springs into action the next day. According to the laws of the straws, Ryan was up first. Followed by Luke, you, and then Eddie rounds it out.

Tuesday morning starts off like every other weekday, everyone running through their routines to get ready for whatever lies ahead for them that day. Once Eliza is dressed in her purple long sleeve shirt, pink overalls, and her morning apple juice is finished, it’s time for the games to begin.

You, Eddie, and Luke watch as inconspicuously as you can from the kitchen entryway as Ryan approaches the couch. Your daughter’s eyes never leave the little yellow robots, even as her oldest brother kneels on the dusty-brown cushion next to her and keeps scooting closer.

Eliza’s leaning back, her legs out straight in front of her, and Ryan takes advantage of the open space to lay his head right down on her little knees. The two-year-old just seems confused at first. She looks down at Ryan, back up to Rolie, down to Ryan, up to Rolie, then back down to Ryan again. After staring down at her big brother for a little while, Eliza reaches for his head and begins to card her tiny fingers through his golden-brown locks. Her hands continue the movements even as she turns her attention back to the television screen. Ryan can’t help but smile; it actually feels really nice. She keeps up the motions until there’s a commercial. Then Ryan rolls on his back to look up at her and she giggles down at him in return, not sure what he’s doing, but happy to have his attention.

“Do you want me to stay?” Ryan asks.

Instead of answering verbally, Eliza wraps her arms around her big brother’s neck and settles back against the cushions.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Ryan says with a chuckle, before adding under his breath, “and as a win.”

Wednesday, it’s Luke’s turn. Once Eliza’s got her favorite show on and a cup of apple juice in her, he makes his move. It’s clear from the moment Luke’s head hits her lap that Eliza is in a feistier mood today. Whether she woke up like that or Luke brings it out of her is anyone’s guess.

“Ow,” Luke groans as two small hands beat down on the side of his head as if it’s a drum. The boy winces, face scrunching up, but as you watch him alongside Eddie and Ryan from around the corner, you can tell Luke is trying to stick it out and see if he can somehow salvage a win. There’s a brief glimmer of hope when Eliza stops percussing on her brother’s head. However, it’s short-lived.

Short, stubby fingers make their way up to Luke’s curls and the youngest Munson boy breathes a sigh of relief, seeing as how gentle the toddler was with Ryan’s hair the day before. The problem, they discover, is that since Luke’s curls are far tighter than his older brother’s, Eliza’s fingers quickly get caught in them.

“Oh, please no,” Luke murmurs, but it’s too late.

Eliza tries to yank her hands free, frustrated that her fingers can’t run smoothly through his locks like she did for their eldest sibling. She pulls Luke’s hair while letting out her own whine.

“Ouch! Why are you whining? I’m the one who’s about to be bald!”

Next to you, Eddie lets out a snort of laughter.

“Bald?” Eddie says. “Wayne? That you?”

Giving a roll of your eyes, you gently swat at his stomach. Luke also hears his dad’s remark and gives him a glare from the couch as he tries to wrestle himself free from the toddler’s grip.

Finally, Eliza is able to slip her hands free from the rat’s nest that’s become of Luke’s hair—thanks to her. She’s thoroughly annoyed now and grumbles a few low groans, giving up on words completely. If she were old enough to know swear words, she’d definitely be using those.

Luke breathes a sigh of relief and raises a hand to rub at his sore scalp. Before he can make contact though, both of Eliza’s hands splay flat on the back of his skull and she gives a hard shove. The implication is clear: get off my lap.

Not willing to risk any more of her tiny wrath, Luke rolls off her and off the couch altogether. He lands with a thud on the carpet and gets the chance to rub at his head at last. His eyes narrow as he looks up at Eliza, who is no longer paying him any mind. She’s immersed in Rolie Polie Olie once again, the rest of the world forgotten.

Your youngest son pushes himself to his feet with a huff. He shuffles back towards the kitchen, back towards the rest of you.

“I don’t wanna hear it,” he mumbles as he passes, heading straight for the fridge.

To Eddie and Ryan’s credit, they do both stay silent as the three of you turn to watch Luke yank a Yoo-Hoo out of the refrigerator and pop the top. He chugs down half the bottle before wiping his mouth off on the back of his hand.

“Ugh,” Luke says with a sigh as he heads toward the hallway. “It’s not even 8 am yet.”

With both of the boys’ attempts out of the way, you’re up. You debate going in straight for the lap when you give her the purple sippy cup of apple juice, but something tells you that you’d end up with a wet and sticky face though. Instead, you wait until most of the beverage is gone and she’s let the bottle roll out of her hand onto the cushion next to her.

“Good luck, babe,” Eddie says, giving your ass a pat before you walk out into the living room.

As soon as your knee touches the couch, the television show your daughter is so transfixed on goes to commercial. She turns her head to look at you, large brown eyes sparkling with curiosity.

You freeze, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. It’s odd to be struck still and silent by your two-year-old, but here you are. Rolie Polie Olie being on a commercial break could either make or break this for you.

“Mama!” Eliza chirps.

A breath loses from your chest, and you give her a grin as you move to lay your head on her little legs. The moment your body makes contact with hers, Eliza’s arms encircle you as much as they possibly can, and she leans down to rest her head against yours. Her cheek smooshes against yours, her chin bumping into the corner of your eye.

Warmth floods through you, your heart growing three sizes as she lays all her body weight against yours.

“Hold on,” you hear Luke mutter from the kitchen, “wait to see what happens when the show comes back.”

There are only about forty-five seconds until just that happens.

Eliza’s skin brushes against your cheek as she adjusts her head to get a better view of the television, but otherwise stays where she is. In fact, it feels as if she cuddles into you even further as she settles in to watch her favorite show.

“Oh, come on,” you hear Luke complain. The twelve-year-old is clearly not happy that he is losing this competition so far. It’s not as if Eliza could be bribed, though. Luckily, toddlers haven’t been corrupted by life yet.

Luke walks into the room and stands at the side of the couch, hands resting on his hips.

“Comfy, are we?” he asks.

It’s evident your daughter is quite cozy as she doesn’t look up at her brother or move for the rest of the episode.

“All right,” Eddie says, rubbing his hands together. “Saved the best for last.”

“Debatable,” Ryan says as he chomps on a granola bar.

Your husband flicks Ryan’s black-rimmed glasses so they slide down his nose. With a huff that sounds far more sophisticated than one coming from a fourteen-year-old, your son shakes it off.

“Ready?” you ask, slipping your arms around Eddie’s waist.

“Always up for snuggles with my girls.”

A wet, smacking kiss is placed on your cheek, and you let out a soft giggle.

“Gross,” Luke groans.

“I know you are, but what am I?” Eddie taunts, proving he’s as mature as his adolescent sons.

You let your arms drop from around his middle and you cup Eddie’s cheeks.

“Go get her,” you say.

He pecks your lips before heading out into the living room.

Eliza is as entranced as always in her cartoon and Eddie takes advantage of that by silently sidling up to her. She doesn’t even realize he’s there until the couch dips next to her and her empty sippy cup rolls until it meets Eddie’s jean-clad knee.

He moves the cup aside and slowly lowers himself until he’s able to rest his head in his daughter’s lap.

At first, it’s as if Eliza doesn’t even notice. She’s watching her show, letting her dad just lay down on her. But after a few seconds, her stare breaks from the television and her brown eyes meet matching larger ones. Her head tilts to the side, inspecting him, and her curls bob with the motion. Eddie smiles up at her and a slow grin grows on her face in return.

One of Eliza’s tiny hands splays across Eddie’s forehead, some of his bangs getting pushed to the side, and some getting caught under her warm palm. Her other hand lands on his chin, delicate fingers curving around his jaw and rubbing against some stubble.

Eliza stays like that, looking down at her father, not moving. It takes everything in Eddie not to laugh as he just stares back at the inquisitive little face that reminds him so much of you.

Quickly, Eliza leans in and presses a kiss to the tip of Eddie’s nose. Gone is his urge to laugh, replaced by the most adoring grin as he revels in her affection. He’s about to thank her for the kiss when she leans in to do it again. This time, however, her mouth is open, and she ends up enveloping his nose in her small mouth.

There’s no way Eddie can hold in his laughter this time as he feels her drool dribble up his nose onto his face. The giddiness is infectious because Eliza pulls her mouth off only to begin laughing alongside of him.

“You might just be as weird as I am,” he tells her, which makes her laugh even harder.

That night at dinner, the results are discussed.

“So, who wins?” Ryan asks as he spears some green beans with his fork.

“Not me,” Luke grumbles, slouching down in his chair.

“Oh, relax,” Eddie says, reaching over and clapping the younger boy on the shoulder. “It’s not like this was scored or anything.”

Luke drops his fork onto the plate with a clang and raises his hands up in front of him.

“My hair ruined it for me! That’s not fair!”

“You know, she can talk now,” you point out, looking at Eliza happily eating in her highchair next to you.

“Good point,” Ryan says. He clears his throat and leans across the table towards her. “Eliza, which of us is your favorite?”

The little girl pops a grape in her mouth and chews, looking like she’s thoughtfully thinking over the question.

“Me,” she finally says.

“No,” Luke says with a shake of his head. “Which of us?” He emphasizes his point by gesturing to the four of you around the table.

Eliza nods her head once, with finality. “Me.”

Eddie huffs a laugh and shrugs his shoulders.

“Her Majesty has spoken.”

“I don’t think it counts,” Luke laments, looking back down to his plate.

“Yeah, her vote doesn’t count,” Ryan agrees.

You and Eddie share a look of amusement across the table. With these three around, life will never be boring.

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mcueveryday · 3 days

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You're an Asshole - Pt 4 - Morning After

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

Summary: Adam hated dealing with the morning after fucking someone. He was usually so careful, making sure they went to her place or a hotel or something, just so he can leave before she wakes up and avoid the whole thing.

Warnings: Cursing, Sexual themes

Word Count: 1,349

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

He did not plan this out properly, did he?

Now, the original plan in his head was simple. Prove he wasn't an asshole, win her over, maybe fuck her, and move on with life the same awesome bastard he had always been.

But then he was stupid and brought her back to his apartment.

Usually he would go to their place or something, leave before the bitch woke up and avoid the awkward ass morning after. They were all one night stands anyway, what did it matter. But he couldn’t very well leave when it was his own apartment.

He guessed it didn't matter. She'd probably think he was an asshole if he pumped and dumped and all that work pretending to be a better person would be for nothing. He was stuck.

He… probably should care more than he did. He hummed, nuzzling into her hair as he thought.

He had slept better last night than he had in a long fucking time, and it didn't suck waking up to someone in his arms. Especially when that someone was so fucking hot.

B8t what should he do now? He wasn’t about to make her breakfast or some corny shit like that. He could stay here, pretend to be asleep until she woke up herself. Leave what to do to her. But what if she wanted to snuggle or some bullshit like that?

… he supposed he could suffer through it. Just this once.

He shifted the golden wing covering her, almost unconsciously pulling her closer, an arm draped over her waist. They got a blanket on themselves sometime in the middle of the night, though he didn't remember grabbing. He didn't remember changing positions either, but they did. It was probably all her, safely snuggled into his chest. She probably just grabbed the blanket or something.

He sighed, letting his eyes flutter shut. He would wait on her then.

He drifTed in and out of sleep until, eventually, she did wake up. She made a sleepy noise, then stretched herself out under his wing, white wings spreading out behind her before resting there on the bed. He kept his eyes closed, but he could feel her lips land under his jaw, then on his cheek.

He let out a sleepy hum, letting his eyes flutter open to look down at her.

“‘Morning.” He mumbled, and she giggled, her lips pressing against his neck.

“Good morning, Adam.” She hummed back and he could feel her smile against his skin. Shit, that shouldn’t turn him on so much. But then she was pulling away, sitting on the edge of the bed as she stretched her arms and wings. It was the perfect chance for him to admire that hot ass body of hers in the morning light, all soft edges and tempting curves.

Yeah, he could totally fuck her right there if he wasn’t afraid he’d scare her off or something.

Still, he laid on his side with his cheek propped in his hand as he watched her search the floor for her clothes, smirking at himself. He couldn’t help but feel like he was the shit, pulling such a fine piece of ass after so much work, so much time and shitty concerts playing the nice guy. Or at least not quite as bad a guy.

The real question was how long he could keep it up. Or if he wanted to. Surely he had proven his point by now right?

“Hey, where’s the bathroom?” Her voice broke through his thoughts and he glanced up to see her with her clothes bunched up in her hands, and god she really did look great with her tits out. She should go shirtless more often. Or all the time. He smirked at her, letting his eyes roam her body greedily. Nah, but then those other fuckers would get to see her like this too, and he wouldn’t have that.

“Down the hall to the right. ‘Course, if you’re looking to shower I could always help…” He teased, but she was having none of that.

“Nope, not showering here. You and I both know we’re not going to get very clean.”

“We’d get there eventually, we would just have a bit of fun too.” He gave a shrug, sitting up in the bed.

She sighed, but he couldn’t quite decipher what that meant. Was she disappointed? Going to give in? Or something else? Who was he kidding, of course she was going to give in! After the way they fucked last night, there was no chance she’d say no now!

“Nah, I really gotta get going.” She finally said. She smirked when she saw him scowl, but shrugged in a ‘watcha gonna do?’ way and vanished through the bedroom door towards the bathroom, leaving him alone in his bedroom.

He heard the bathroom door shutting and huffed, stomping out of bed to put on some sweats.

Fucking bitch, not even pretending to care, just up and leaving. What, was she going to ghost him now? This is why he should never have brought her to his place. At least then he could just leave before she got the chance to kick him out or something.

He paused and took a deep breath. He was being an asshole again, wasn’t he? He needed to be sure to keep these thoughts to himself. He shouldn’t be getting upset anyways. If she just left and ghosted him, then he didn’t have to pretend anymore and could just take the win like the badass he was.

He heard the bathroom door again. He expected the bitch to just walk out, but those footsteps were heading back to the bedroom instead.

She looked disheveled as she walked in with that fucking smile, cleaned up a bit but definitely still in need of a shower. He should probably take one too, now that he thought about it. He had that shitty meeting later today.

“Uh, so I gotta head out, shower, eat something, stuff like that. Got band practice today. I’ll see you later, okay?”

And she sounded so damn happy and chipper, for a moment it seemed like she actually meant it, the seeing him later. Perhaps she wasn’t going to ghost him after all. Which brought up the question, why was that the first thing he thought of? Why did he jump to being abandoned so easily?

… he didn’t feel like thinking about that. Instead he gave her his most charming smile, which he was sure wasn’t that good considering they had just gotten up. His hair was probably a mess, he was only wearing those sweats he put on, and again, he really needed that shower. Still, she seemed to brighten regardless. That was only natural, of course. He was the fucking best, even if he was a mess.

“No problem, sugartits! Rock on, and text me later, yeah?” Wait, sugartits was probably the wrong thing to see. Woman considered that an asshole nickname, didn’t they? He’d have to try something else next time. But she was still smiling, so it couldn’t be so bad.

“Hell yeah, text you later!” She said with a wave and headed out. He followed her footsteps until she reached the door and that shut behind him.

… yeah. Yeah, that wasn’t too bad, as far as morning after’s go. They had a great night, she didn’t seem disgusted or upset in any way, and she probably wasn’t going to ghost him. He supposed he would just have to continue the game a bit longer, keep policing himself and prove he was a good man, as exhausting as it was. It would be worth it if he got to tap that ass a few more times before she got tired of him. God, he was getting hard just thinking about it. Well, harder, it never did go down from earlier.

He smiled to himself and collected some clean clothes so he could take that long ass shower. He was already looking forward to that text from her later on.

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