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pretend that's his morning hair and he's at home with you and the baby. it's the only picture i could find of him with messy curls.
his feet shuffle along the carpeted floor as he nears the nursery room, heart sinking at the sound of his flower's cries. he peaks his head through the door and finds her restless in her cot, wailing her little heart out. he reaches his hands out to hold her and scoops her up in his arms.
'shh— shh' he coos.
her cries muffle as he nestles her head between his neck and sways her side to side. his heart aches at her desperate cries. he tiptoes out of the nursery room and makes his way down the stairs to the kitchen. the soft, morning sun barely breaks through the kitchen window. the light gentle to his eyes. he repositions her in his arms and bottle feeds her milk. soft, untamed curls framing his face. emeralds filled with sleep. she suckles on the bottle fast and then grasps for air in between.
'slow down peanut..' he coos.
she doesn't slow down, but latches firmly to the bottle and drinks it all before wailing her little heart out again. he places the bottle down onto the counter and rests her head over his shoulder as he pats her back coaxing her to burp. she wails harder until all the content comes back out.
'oh— no' he coos.
he grabs a towel and cleans her mouth. then tries to clean his tee. she cries harder, frightened by it all (it is her first time), but he calms her right down with soft whispers and tender kisses to the back of her head.
'shh— shh. s'no need to cry precious' he coos.
he coaxes her into a golden slumber and the two rest in his bed, tucked under the covers with you cuddled by his side.
