Frank Sinatra x Reader One Shots

Babysitting

Author's Note: You're babysitting Frank Sinatra. It's 1918. He's two years old. (btw I'm not an expert on babies so if some of this makes no sense it's not my fault)

Frank lies on the floor on his stomach, a bunch of papers spread out all around him. He's coloring, drawing in large circles that spread onto the other papers beneath.

You're standing in front of the stove, attempting to make macaroni for Frank. You glance down to see him drawing dramatically. You laugh to yourself.

Frank starts talking to himself, "Biiiiig circles," he says in his baby voice. He hasn't quite perfected his r's yet.

The macaroni is finally finished. You turn off the stove and put a small portion into a bowl. You step over Frank and put the bowl on the table.

You walk back over to Frank and pick him up. He whines in your arms, grabbing the air. "I want to draw!"

You put an arm under his legs and an arm around his back to face him towards you. "Frankie, it's time to eat."

Frank pouts.

You sit him down in the chair that has lots of firm cushions on top. You sit next to him and push the bowl closer to him.

Frank completely forgets about the coloring and shoves his spoon into the macaroni, his tongue sticking out as he focuses.

He makes a mess as he eats. You clean up the kitchen.

Frank yells, "Done!" You look at him, his face is covered in cheese.

You walk back over with a napkin and wipe the food off his face. Frank squirms and puts his tiny hands on your hands in attempts to push you away.

You smile. "Frankie, you can't be all messy for nap time."

Frank freezes. His lips quivers. "Nooooo," he whines.

You pick him up and hold him in your arms.

Frank starts crying. He lets his head fall on your shoulder. "I don't want a nap!" He nearly screams.

You put a hand on his small head and bounce him slightly in your arms. "Shhh."

Frank yells more, "Noooo." He grips your shirt in anger.

You walk to his room. Frank rubs his eyes against your shoulder, his whole head moving back and forth.

You rub your hand on the back of his head, "Frankie, it's nap time."

Frank looks at you, his eyes all puffy. His lips form a small frown.

You lean in and kiss Frank's forehead. He wraps his tiny arms around your neck.

"I love you, Frankie."

Frank buries his head into your neck.

You move to put him into his crib. He won't let go. "Frankie."

Frank leans back to look at you. You smile. "Nap time."

You place Frank in the crib. His lip quivers again.

"Frankie, please don't cry," you say before he has a chance to cry. "Frankie, tell me what you're going to dream about?"

Frank sits in his crib, his little legs bent in an almost criss-cross position. His hands droop in front him as he slouches. Frank squints as he thinks. He leans his head against his shoulder and looks at you mischievously. He says, "You."

Your face lights up. "You're going to dream about me?"

Frank nods shyly. He puts his hands over his face and widens his fingers just enough to see you. He notices you smiling at him and lies down, rolling over onto his stomach and stuffing his face into the crib so he doesn't have to look at you.

You put your hand on his head and gently rub your thumb back and forth. "Have a good nap, Frankie." You pull a blanket over him. Frank rolls over and stares at you as he grabs for the blanket. His little fingers curl around the edge of the blanket as he pulls the blanket closer to his face and rubs it against his cheek.

You smile and walk out of the room, turning off the lights.