#book fandom

Hi Tumblr! It’s been [redacted] years that I haven’t posted something, which is rather silly actually. Fixing that.

summary: 1k. a soft, love-soaked moment between johnny kavanagh and you, while adjusting to life with your newborn baby <3

cw: fluff, new parents, johnny kavanagh is a softie, gentle intimacy, english is not my first language xx.

author’s note: i tried to replicate the tone from the original series even when english is not my mother tongue, don’t come for me!

currently playing: oh my angel

The first thing you become aware of is warmth.

Not the hospital blankets or the dull heat pulsing behind your tired eyes, but a deeper, living warmth — the kind that wraps around your heart before your mind fully wakes.

You blink slowly, the world taking a second to come into focus. The room is dim, quiet, the curtain drawn. A soft rustling sound pulls your attention to the side… and there he is.

Johnny Kavanagh, sitting in the armchair pulled right up to the bed, massive hands curled around the tiniest bundle you’ve ever seen.

Your baby.

Your breath catches, and even in the low light you see Johnny’s head snap up, his whole face breaking open into that bright, boyish grin he saves for very few people in the world.

“Hi, love,” he whispers, voice raspy from hours of not sleeping. “Look who’s awake.”

He shifts carefully, the little bundle rising with him, and moves toward the bed. He’s still in the clothes he wore during the birth — track pants and a soft hoodie — crumpled, stained, and clinging to him in a way that tells you he hasn’t left that chair for more than a minute.

You try to sit up, wincing slightly, but Johnny is already at your side, lowering himself onto the mattress and slipping an arm behind your shoulders to help.

“Easy,” he murmurs, kissing the side of your head. “You’ve done enough superhero work for one lifetime.”

You exhale a laugh, small but genuine. “Let me see him.”

Johnny’s grin grows impossibly wider. He shifts so that the baby rests between you both, tiny and impossibly peaceful in his father’s arms. Johnny looks down at him like he’s the most miraculous thing to ever happen — and to him, he probably is.

“He’s been sleeping like this the whole time,” he says quietly, brushing the softest thumb over the baby’s cheek. “Snoring too. Just like his mam.”

“Johnny!”

He laughs under his breath, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “I’m only joking. Kinda.”

The baby stirs, a small, wrinkled movement, and Johnny’s lips part in awe, like he can’t believe this is real. You watch him — the way his whole body softens, the gentle tightening of his arms, the tenderness in his eyes — and your chest swells so much it almost aches.

“You’re a natural,” you whisper.

His cheeks go a little pink. “I dunno about that. I’m afraid to breathe too hard.”

“You’re doing perfectly.”

He leans his forehead against yours, exhaling shakily. “I can’t stop looking at him.”

“I know.”

“I keep thinkin’… we made him,” he says, wonder thick in his voice. “Like… that’s actually our son. Our little lad.”

Your eyes burn, but in the warm, happy way. “He’s perfect.”

Johnny shifts, letting you take the baby in your arms. The moment the weight settles against your chest, everything else disappears — the soreness, the exhaustion, the hours of labour. His tiny fist uncurls against your skin, and you melt.

Johnny lies beside you, stretching out on the narrow hospital bed even though it’s too small for him, but he makes it work, sliding one arm under your shoulders so you’re leaning against him. He rests his chin on your hair.

“We’re a family now,” he whispers, almost like he’s afraid saying it too loudly will break the spell.

You turn your head slightly, pressing your lips to his jaw. “Yeah. We are.”

A soft knock on the door pulls you both from the quiet bubble you’ve been floating in.

Johnny straightens, sitting up a little. “That’ll be Mam and Da.”

A nervous excitement flashes across his face — the same look he gets before big matches, except softer, more personal.

“You ready?” he asks you gently.

You nod, adjusting the baby in your arms.

He opens the door, and Mrs. Kavanagh bursts in with watery eyes and a hand already pressed to her chest.

“Oh, Johnny,” she breathes, brushing past him with zero hesitation. “Oh, sweetheart, look at him!”

She comes to your side, eyes shining. “Love, may I hold him?”

“Of course,” you say, handing her the baby carefully.

She cradles him with practiced ease, rocking gently, tears spilling over. “He’s gorgeous. A perfect wee angel.”

Johnny’s father steps in more quietly, but there’s no hiding the pride in his face. He claps a hand on Johnny’s shoulder, squeezing firmly.

“Well done, son.”

Johnny swallows, emotion tightening his throat. “Thanks, Da.”

His mother looks up suddenly. “What’s his name? You settled on it?”

You and Johnny share a look — the soft, secret kind that says yeah, this feels right — and he answers:

“Rory. Rory Kavanagh.”

Mrs. Kavanagh gasps. “Oh, Johnny, that’s beautiful.”

Johnny slips his hand into yours under the blanket, giving it a little squeeze. You squeeze back.

His parents take turns cooing, admiring, murmuring sweet nothings, and Johnny watches all of it with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on him — proud, emotional, and absolutely in love.

When his parents leave, promising to return with food and a ridiculous amount of photos printed out already, Johnny climbs back into the bed beside you.

He pulls you close, his arm warm and steady around you, and rests his hand gently on your son’s back.

“Get some sleep,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead.

“You too.”

He laughs softly. “Not a chance I’m sleepin’ tonight. Gotta keep an eye on my two favourite people.”

Your heart swells again.

“Johnny…”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

His smile goes soft and slow. “I love you too, love. More than anything.”

He kisses you again, lingering, then shifts just enough to tuck the baby safely between you both.

And for the first time as parents, the three of you fall asleep together — warm, safe, and completely wrapped in love.