#parent fic

Pumpkin Patch Aftermath (#25)

If you told Abby that one day she’d be chasing her three children around a pumpkin patch while the love of her life cackles behind her camera lens, she wouldn’t believe you.

But here she is, in the middle of October, trying to wrangle her kids to take a family photo. The youngest, your only daughter, has given up the chase and instead giggles into Abby’s warm neck as Abby boosts her up on her hip. The other two are running in overlapping circles through the pumpkins. It isn’t until Abby lets out a sharp whistle that they stop giggling and turn towards their mom.

After your daughter’s very first birthday, you and Steve admire the life that you’ve made for yourselves together.

Dad!Steve Harrington x Mom!reader

Warnings: Not much, talk of birth and Steve’s horrible parents. Talk of being young parents. Reader is described to have long hair.

Enjoy!

Main Masterlist ! Kinktober 2023

It’s quiet. 

Too quiet. There hasn’t been a moment like this since Laila was born, a whole year ago. To the day. You spent Halloween night last year with a scrunched up, sweating face and pushing with all your might. One good thing comes with having a child born on an evening of festivities — birthday parties. Yours and Steve’s home comes alive on her birthday, with people celebrating and bringing their own little ones, everyone dressed up as characters from books or TV shows. Yourself and Steve had dressed as Leia and Han, with Laila snuggled down in an ewok onesie. Steve had insisted on you dressing up as her namesake – since you had refused to name your actual daughter leia. Steve, in his ever loving and altruistic glory, had let you have your way. It’s not very often that Steve doesn't bend over backwards to make you happy, and he’s come so far to the teenage douchebag that tried to hook up with you at a halloween party in your Junior year. 

Underrated trope: I absolutely loathe you but your kid is genuinely an angel/ but you make my usually distrusting child smile so I’ll tolerate you.

This could include

Possible jobs for A: kindergartener, baker, ice cream vendor, barista, librarian, bus driver, doctor etc.

Both of them acting all kind and polite in front of the child with underhanded jibs and sarcastic comments towards each other if the kid is around

Both Voices going higher at least 2 octaves around the child.

Whisper yelling at each other when the kid is distracted/a few meters away

“How the hell did you manage to raise an actual angel when you’re literally a satan himself?!?” “News flash: the devil was an angel himself!”

“You so clearly take after your other parent, sweetheart.”, with a shit eating grin towards the parent.

“ I will never understand how you tricked, no bewitched, my sweet child like that. The moment I find out we! Are! OUT OF HERE!!” “ Oh I just have that effect on genuinely good and nice people like that. You wouldn’t understand.” “Fuck you!” “Oh no! Such horrible language! Truly a terrible parent! That poor child! I’m gonna pray for them!” “You’re not even religious!?”

‘Oh no when did I learn the ins and outs of their daily life ?!?’

“Oh sweetie, you can’t just invite someone over without telling me. And theyre a very busy person and we wouldn’t want to interfere with-“ “No it’s fine! I have time!” Through gritted teeth:”We really wouldn’t want you to come all this way, just for us.” “It’s fine! I’ll come by at 12!”

“Hey this is me by the way!” “How the fuck did you get my number ?!?” “Your sweet child gave it to me!” “And you dickhead just took it ?!?! Why the hell would you even need it, asshole ?!?” “Again with those words in front of a child. Tsktsktsk” “We’re on the phone, dumbass.” “And you’re on speaker. Say hello to your parent, sweetie!” “Hello!” “H-Hey sweetie! Oh god.”

“Don’t teach my child such language!” “I think they’re learning worse from you actually.”

“I’m so sorry I know this is so last minute and it’s your off day/ Friday night but could you please look after my child?“ “sure!” “What?!? Just like that ?!? I was gonna do a whole speech about how I have an important event to go to and my usual babysitter just got sick and I don’t know who else to call and I yell at you most of the time we talk but I know you would never hurt my child- and !” “It’s truly fine! Even if I had something to do I know you wouldn’t resort to me if you had literally any other option so it must be an emergency. And also your child is an actual Angel, why wouldn’t I want to spent some time with them?!?.” “Oh god that you!I’ll owe you! Anything you want! ”

“Soo, you trust me?” “Bitch, That’s not what I said at all. I trust you with my kid. Nothing more.” “Semantics, sweetheart!”

Also the good old “oh shit did your/my child just trick us into having a date with one another ?”

Set 18 years in the future, Valentine's Day looks a little different for Parker and JJ. Sneaking outside while the kids are asleep, Parker discovers JJ hasn't taken his wedding ring off for fifteen years and JJ freaks out about when his daughters are old enough to date.

Smut in part two.

Parker Kate 

Sinking into the hammock, I took a slow, deep breath, releasing the stress of the day. The February air sent a chill through my body, and I tightened the blanket I had thrown over my shoulders before coming outside. On my thigh, I balanced the baby monitor, watching the grainy black-and-white footage of my youngest daughter sleeping. 

She was so peaceful. It was a marvel she came from me and JJ. 

Behind me, I heard the creak of the back door as JJ stepped outside. His steps were light and careful, the way they always were after bedtime. Tonight had been a particularly hard night, scrubbing red-dyed sugar off of baby teeth and combating the energy coming from pounds of chocolate eaten at school. And home -- JJ thought he was being sneaky handing out candy hearts behind my back. He wasn't. I didn't say anything because I liked watching the kids' eyes light up, forming a secret sugar-fueled alliance with their dad. 

There were no quips, no sarcastic jokes. Not even an eye roll. I had turned fucking soft from watching the man I loved become SuperDad. 

"Hey, love," JJ said softly, his words muffled by the singular white daisy captured between his teeth. He held out a mug filled with an amber liquid. It was the expensive whiskey he had splurged on for himself. 

My heart stumbled over itself in my chest the same way it did when we first started dating. Moonlight always did JJ well, but the warmth in my body came from more than his looks. It came from the man who was once my dirty secret and then my teenage dream. The feeling of knowing we were going to make it here one day, and that every time I looked at him, it would still feel like the first time. 

"Hey, baby." I smiled up at him. Taking the mug from his hands, JJ removed the flower from his mouth, snapped off the stem, and tucked it behind my ear. "Where'd you get that?" 

I hadn't expected to see anything from JJ. We decided against Valentine's plans this year. We were too busy and tired and would rather have a slow night at home between the two of us. He probably stole it from our oldest son, who had taken his girlfriend out tonight and treated her right with flowers, candy, and a small necklace. 

"I have my ways." He wiggled his eyebrows and sank into the hammock beside me. I moved the blanket to rest over both our shoulders. "Is she sleeping?" He motioned to the baby monitor in my lap. 

"For now," I said, holding the monitor for him to see. "She still sucks her fingers." 

JJ squinted at the monitor, smiled, and placed it on the ground. "I think it's because they had chocolate on them." 

I didn't ask where she got the chocolate, instead sipping on the whiskey. Expensive or not, it tasted like a Sharpie to me. JJ smiled to himself, like he was getting away with something. 

Reaching my thumb out, I traced the creases starting to form beside his eyes. He was only thirty-five, but he had smiled so much it was starting to leave lines in his skin. I perceived it as a personal accomplishment. 

"Are you going to call me old again?" JJ teased, and the skin under my thumb bunched together. 

"No," I said softly. Normally, I would call him old. Make fun of him for aging before I did. But tonight, the tiny lines had my heart overflowing with love. "Actually, I was thinking about how they are my favorite part of you." 

"Oh yeah?" 

"It shows you are happy. That I make you happy." Turning my head to the yard, I examined the mess we purposefully never cleaned. Bikes, balls, and shoes littered the yard. Surfboards, from when he had taught the kids, and skateboards from when I wanted to prove I was still cool. JJ had looked at me that day the same way he did when we were seventeen, with awe and a slight bit of anxiety that I was going to break a bone. And then, when I landed a kickflip perfectly, he cheered loudly. Louder than all our kids. "That we make you happy." 

Pulling my feet into his lap, JJ leaned back in the hammock. "You make me very happy, Parker." 

"What about me?" I asked, tipping my head to the side. "What's your favorite part of me, after all these years?" 

JJ's smile pulled tighter, more mischievous, as his eyes fell onto my chest. I had gone up a cup size or two since having kids, and JJ definitely took notice, though he assured me he loved my chest at every size. 

Scoffing, I rolled my eyes. JJ let out a little laugh and wrapped his hand around the back of my head, forcing me to look at him. "Your eyes, Parker. They have always been my favorite." 

"They're not just mine anymore." 

"No," JJ's gaze was heavy with adoration, stopping my heart in its tracks. "But I fell in love with yours first." 

There was a quiet beat between the two of us. JJ stared at me, and I stared at him. Neither of us made a move to close the distance or say anything more. 

At the start of our relationship, we loved out loud, and I mean literally. Screaming "I love you" in each other's faces. Tackling each other into hugs and obnoxious kisses. Making sure that every person in the room knew we were together. 

The showy part of our relationship never left. JJ still made heinous comments about me in front of John B and would kiss me grossly whenever the kids were watching. But our love had morphed into quiet moments too. Falling asleep together on the couch while folding laundry. Sharing glances at restaurants where the servers were dressed as firemen and the food was made of plastic and Play-Doh. Leaning on each other while we loomed over the coffee machine in our sweatpants. 

When we were young, we were so sure we were running out of time that we forgot to live it. Traipsed all over the world for treasure, only to find out the treasure was the people who we travelled with. Now, with lines on our skin and hair that was sure to turn grey soon, we lived in the moment. 

"Would you have believed it if you told yourself all those years ago that we ended up here?" I asked, tilting my head to see the entirety of JJ's gorgeous face.

JJ shook his head immediately. "Not a chance in hell." He said on the edge of a laugh. "Never would I have believed that I would have you as my wife. That we'd have a huge family. That I was destined for something other than loneliness and jail cells."

I let out a little laugh. "Well, we have been to jail a few times." 

"Not in a while." Leaning back in the hammock, JJ took a sip of his whiskey before adding, "We traded jail time for time-outs." 

He was not the person to be saying that. "I'm pretty sure the last person I put in time-out was you." 

JJ smirked that devilish smirk that didn't grow up with the rest of him. "Still would have rather been spanked." 

"We tried that one time, remember? You cried." 

"Yeah, from laughing so hard," JJ rebutted. "You called me a bad boy like I was a fucking dog." 

Whiskey sputtered from the corners of my lips. "You were on all fours with your ass in the air!" 

Knowing neither of us could win this argument and maintain our egos, we doubled over, laughing until our stomachs hurt. The kind of hurt that came from wholehearted joy and complete comfort. 

Reaching for my shoulder, JJ pulled me back until my head was pressed against his chest. His heart beat happily under my palm, remnants of laughter fleeing his chest. 

"We've had a lot of good sex in our time. There's got to be some flops from time to time." I pointed out. 

JJ furrowed his eyebrows dramatically. "Had a lot of good sex? You're acting like we've peaked." 

"You don't think we have?" I teased, lifting my head off his chest. 

"No!" He pretended to be offended, then paused, thought about it for a second, and raised his finger up. "The time we accidentally got high on acid at a college dorm party and fucked on an air mattress. I distinctly remember seeing those nineties rainbow optical illusions when I came."

"Oh my God! I totally forgot about our accidental acid trip." And the great sex that followed. My clit was never the same. 

"But that doesn't count because we weren't sober." 

"Was that the same night you got your ass tat?" Laughing, I grabbed a handful of my husband's ass and squeezed. 

"No, that was boy's night out." JJ said, swatting my hand away. "Remember, I was pissed that you wouldn't blow me after I tattooed my ass for you." 

"I was stone-cold sober, and you were drunk off your ass. Literally," I defended myself. "That's like the time I convinced myself you weren't sleeping with me because you had a girlfriend." 

"We were already married," JJ reminded me, bringing my left hand to his mouth and kissing my wedding ring.  The same way he did that fateful night I had forgotten everything. 

All it took was one kiss to remember he was my husband. That I had him wrapped around my finger, and he had me wrapped around his. 

"You know what I think our peak sexual experience was?" I asked. 

JJ was quick to guess, "The time you blew me in the car while Nickelback played in the background and the cop pulled us over for reckless driving." 

"No." 

"The Halloween I chased you through the woods in a mask?" JJ said, quickly correcting himself with the plural, "Halloweens." 

"Not quite." 

"Our honeymoon when we broke the hotel bed and pretended that our room had been raided?" 

"God, we're sluts." I crinkled up my face. Letting JJ guess was a bad idea, though he appeared pleased with himself. "I was going to say the time we were angry at John B and fucked on his bed." 

"Oh!" JJ threw his head back. Smiling, he added, "I wonder if he kept those sheets." 

"He didn't find out until a year ago. We did that when we were, what, nineteen?" For my brother's sake, I hoped the sheets had gotten a hole years prior and he chucked them. Or at the very least ran them through the wash. 

At the time, though, it was fucking epic. The epitome of breaking the rules. 

"Do you ever remember what we were mad about?" I asked. 

"Not something worth coming straight on his sheets." JJ laughed, finishing off the whiskey in his mug. 

"We were horrible to John B," I admitted. After all these years, I had come around to my teenage rebellion and realized we treated him like crap. I didn't regret it, but I realized it. Halfway there. 

Looking across the backyard at my brother's house, I could see the faint light coming from his kitchen. I had learned better than to look for long, scared of what I would see going on inside his house. Though, tonight all I could see was him pacing his kitchen. Back and forth with his hands tangled in his hair. 

"Hey, look," I nudged JJ's shoulder, cocking my head towards the Routledges' house. "He's still pacing." 

His oldest had her first Valentine's date tonight, and John B had spent most of last night in our living room, running the boy's name through criminal databases, where it came up that he was, in fact, a normal sixteen-year-old boy. Eventually, Sarah came and dragged him back home to face his fears. 

"I don't blame him," JJ said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I barely slept last night thinking about what would happen when our girls started dating." 

"Our son is on a date now." 

"True, but it's different with daughters," JJ claimed. "For years your the most important man in your daughter's life, and then one day some pubescent boy with a pedo stash comes and takes your place. You become less important." 

My mouth hung open. I had thought he was about to say some misogynistic bullshit about how dating was different for boys than girls, but instead he wiped my heart from my chest. 

A ghost of a smile danced over my face. Not at my husband's pain, but because I knew I had chosen the right man to father my children. I thought JJ placed me on a pedestal, but compared to them, I was sitting on the side of a curb. 

"I can promise you that's not how it works," I told my husband, looping my arms through his. "I still think my dad hung the moon, and I have a ring on my finger." Grabbing onto his left hand, I ran my fingers over his wedding ring. "My dad hung the moon, but you hung the stars. It takes both to make a beautiful nightscape." 

Dropping his head, JJ let out a strangled, "Jesus Christ, love." 

"I've got a way with words, huh?" 

JJ shook his head. "You have a way with my heart." 

A fierce blush rose on my cheeks that JJ traced with his thumb before pressing a soft kiss to my lips. He tasted bitter, like whiskey, but with that sweet aftertaste I still hadn't placed after all these years. 

"I love you," He muttered, dragging his lips against mine. "I think more now than I ever have." 

"You've said that before." I giggled. 

"When you put a ring on my finger," JJ said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "I haven't taken my ring off for fifteen years."

"Not once?" I asked. I thought he was exaggerating, but he shook his head.

"Not since you slipped it on." He said, smiling at our intertwined hands. 

There was a brief moment of "Oh my God, this is so romantic" before the logistics of how long he had the ring on hit me. Every diaper explosion. Every night with the norovirus. Every swim in the ocean. 

"Jesus, JJ!" I exclaimed, reaching for the ring. "Do you know how many times you've gotten shit on your fingers? Or puke? You've put this finger inside of me!" 

I held his hand up for him to see. JJ, as expected, was less than fazed. He was closer to laughing than anything. 

"I wash my hands, Parker," JJ said. "And I'm right-handed. Your brother knows that." 

I was too flabbergasted to hear what he was saying. Instead, I was imagining all the different colors his finger could be under the ring. "You've never taken that ring off," I said to myself once more, making sure I heard him right. "Your poor finger is probably rotting under there." 

The ring didn't budge when I pulled on it. Trying again, I dragged JJ's hand out, ring and all, while he winced in pain. 

"Stop pulling!" He whined. "It stopped moving about two years ago."

"What?" My eyes nearly bulged out of my head. "The ring fastened itself to your skin two years ago, and you never thought, 'Huh, maybe this is something I should get checked out?'"

"It's not like I'm taking it off anytime soon." JJ tried to defend himself, flexing his hand. "My circulation is fine." 

It took every ounce of my self-control to not mock how dumb he sounded. "What if there was an accident? You'd lose your finger!"

"I'd rather lose my finger than the ring." JJ said honestly as I stood up off the hammock, turning back for the house. "Where are you going?" 

"To get some string and something lubricating. Your finger needs to breathe," I told him, ignoring his protests. 

"My finger needs to honor my wife!" 

"Your tongue can do that!" I shouted back. 

Fifteen minutes later, I was hunched over JJ's finger with a bottle of lube, dental floss, and a needle, fighting with the ring that attached itself to my husband. JJ loomed above me, using his phone as a flashlight. 

"You're going to stab me!" He whined, shaking like I was performing open-heart finger surgery. One would think after delivering our last kid on the bathroom floor in our ensuite twenty minutes after the first contraction, I would have earned more credit when it came to getting large things out of tiny holes. 

"It's almost through." 

"It is not almost through!" JJ exclaimed. "You're under my skin!" 

"If I were under your skin, you'd be bleeding." I told him, leaving out "pussy," like the good wife I was. 

"It's not going anywhere, love," JJ said on a sharp intake of breath. "If it makes you feel better, I will call Pope in the morning and have him help me get it off. But, for the love of God, take the needle and the fucking dental floss out of my ring!" 

Agreeing that the ring was, in fact, not going anywhere, I pulled the needle and the dental floss out of his ring and dropped it in my empty mug. JJ leaned back and sighed with a relief greater than surviving war. 

"Fuck!" He cursed, bringing his finger to his mouth and kissing it. "I almost lost you, buddy -- eugh, lube." His lips curled upwards, trying to get the taste out of his mouth. 

"You're fine. You've eaten lube," I reminded him. "Remember at that sex shop? And then we had to buy it." 

JJ looked me dead in the eye, more serious than he was when he asked me to marry him. "It was green apple flavored. I wanted to see what it tasted like." 

"Like green apple?" I stated the obvious. 

"Well, I know that now." 

All I could do was laugh at my husband. Loudly. Obnoxiously. It didn't take long for JJ to break down too, collapsing on top of me. His body pinned mine to the hammock, and he chuckled into my neck, sending pleasant ripples down my spine. 

Fingers grasping at the skin under my shirt, JJ pulled me down until we were face-to-face, breathing heavily. His smile was wicked, pulling the corners of his eyes tightly, while his fingers traced circles on my skin. Slow and deliberate, enough to steer my train of thought from "I love this man" to "I need this man." 

They worked together. Love boiled inside of me, spilling from my chest, while a lower heat settled between my legs. I pulled JJ closer because I wanted to hold him while simultaneously bathing in the feeling of his weight on me. 

Unable to help myself, I pressed my lips to his, frantic with equal parts of love and lust. The same way it was when we were seventeen, lying on the pullout bed, ripping our clothes off. 

"I need you," JJ rasped. 

"Baby, you have me." 

JJ shook his head and pulled away. "Not like this. Closer. Less clothes." 

Rising onto his knees like a vengeful warrior, JJ huffed out a sigh, hearing his phone buzz. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone, revealing a photo of me and our baby girl asleep on the couch. 

"He wants to stay out an hour past curfew." JJ told me, running a hand through his hair. 

"And he texted you?" I asked, slightly offended our son had chosen to come to him first. That kid knew damn well I called the shots around here. 

"Because I'm more likely to say yes," JJ filled in the blanks. "I remember what it was like to be seventeen with a half-naked girl underneath you." 

"Oh God, JJ." I rolled my eyes. 

"I'm surprised he's asking for more time instead of showing up late and hoping we are asleep." JJ's fingers flew furiously over the phone. 

"What are you saying?" I asked. 

"He can have an extra hour. It's a special night." 

"JJ!" 

Shrugging his shoulders, JJ threw his phone into the yard. "I added 'be safe' at the end."

"Good parenting," I deadpanned. 

"He needs to have teenage experiences." Leaning back over me, JJ grabbed my hands and pinned them at the sides of my head. 

The sinful gleam in his eyes told me that his permission was less about our son's teenage experiences and more about his own desire. 

"And?" I prepositioned him. 

Smirking, JJ pressed a small, teasing kiss to my neck. 

Fandom: Grey's Anatomy Summary: Late one night, each of the four parents rise from their bed to check on their little one. Warnings: Polyamory, pregnancy, mentions of past relationship drama, and general Grey's Anatomy related dramatics Word Count: 2,779 Chapters: 4 Ship(s): George O'Malley/Izzie Stevens/Callie Torres/Alex Karev

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Summary: Hermione and Ron discuss baby names.

The air was warm and breezy on that Sunday evening at the Burrow. Most of the family were still inside chattering and laughing after enjoying the feast lovingly prepared by Molly Weasley.

Hermione and Ron decided to take some time for themselves out in the quiet garden behind the house. They cuddled together on the padded garden swing under an arbor of climbing pink roses that hung heavy in full bloom and perfumed the air with their rich floral scent.

Ron took a handkerchief out of his pocket and neatly Transfigured it into a lightweight throw and then slung it around Hermione’s shoulders. She leaned back against his chest and he wound his arms around her waist, smoothing a palm over her rounded belly.

“What about ‘Apollonia?’” Ron suggested.

Hermione snorted softly and nudged him with her elbow. They still hadn’t settled on a name for their unborn daughter and for the past week her husband had been suggesting more and more outlandish girl names, originating from every corner of the world – and if she wasn’t mistaken, this time it was Greece.

“Sephronia?”

Hermione wrinkled her nose and hummed negatively.

“Petronella?”

Hermione giggled and shook her head, “Seriously, Ron.”

“Eulalia?”

Hermione sat up a bit and looked at him with a raised eyebrow, “And spend her entire life spelling it out for people?”

Ron considered that and conceded, “Good point.” He kissed her temple and hugged her back against him.

Muffled shouts of joy and groans of despair from inside the house reached their ears. Charlie was visiting from Romania and challenging everyone to beat him at a Muggle game he had recently learned called arm-wrestling. Ginny’s distinctive whoop of triumph followed and Hermione and Ron both shook with silent laughter at her apparent victory.

They swayed slowly back and forth, watching the fading colors of sunset, until a stray breeze blew a petal down from above their heads to land on Hermione’s cheek. She plucked it from her skin and rubbed it between her fingertips for a few moments; the silky texture made her smile.

“I remember the first time we sat out here, under these roses,” Hermione began.

Ron hummed against her temple. “After the Battle, yeah. Dad stayed at Hogwarts to… sort things out for Fred. Mum brought almost every else here. Well, all the kids, anyway.”

“Gathered all the chicks, made enough food for three armies,” Hermione smiled warmly. “When the crowd and the noise got too much, you brought me out here. Held me under these roses.”

He tightened his arms around her, much as he did then. “Kissed you, too.” She could hear the smile in his voice and turned her face up to once again accept the soft press of his lips on hers.

She pulled back and met his eyes. “It was the first time I’d felt safe, truly safe, for the longest time. Like I could finally breathe again.”

Ron swallowed hard and pressed his forehead to hers. "I knew it that night, you know? That I couldn't be without you. I wanted to hold you like that for the rest of my life."

Hermione stroked his cheek and kissed him again. "You asked me to marry you under these roses."

Ron snorted softly, "I managed to wait a year, but I didn't even have a bloody ring for you."

Hermione pinched his chin, "Ridiculous man. You had something better: an old wizarding tradition of sealing an engagement pact in blood. You taught me a new spell - it was absolutely perfect."

Ron lips turned up in a wry grin. "Dad gave me the idea. He had done the same with Mum. They still have tiny scars on their palms."

"We pricked each other's thumbs with a thorn and made our promise."

"You wore a rose in your hair at our wedding. Bloody gorgeous, you were."

They both jumped when they felt a sudden kick from Hermione's belly.

Hermione laughed and patted the spot, "Yes, darling, we mustn't leave you out of this. We were here on Ginny's birthday, sitting under these roses eating cake when the owl came from Dr Lux and confirmed the test results."

“Nearly passed out, didn’t I?”

Hermione huffed in amusement and leaned back against him, “Recovered quickly enough to spin me around and almost vomit up the cake, is what you did.”

They fell silent and linked their fingers over her belly, where their little one was merrily wriggling around.

“What about ‘Rose?’” Ron spoke after a while, his voice low and slightly rough in her ear.

Hermione swallowed against a thick lump in her throat and nodded, “Rose.”

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Hi! We always wonder when we get such questions - any more than what? :) Than what you read or than what you have found in our recs?

There are a lot of fics with teen Yev. DodgerBear has several, for example:

The Trevor Project series  (has NOTHING to do with Trevor from Shameless)

There Goes The Neighborhood 

Snapbook

Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot

Fics from other authors:

Iron & Blue 

Inheritance

Our Son, The Teenager.

Take this waltz

like fathers, like son

Mischief series

First of all, this is like making one of those easy bake muffins or something- How hard can it be? Very hard. And these two would not get muffins, but would somehow get cheesecake. Here's your parenting headcanons, straight off the hot fic press:

-Pantalone is the walking credit card. If you think Targagle buying Zhongli anything the Archon touches was bad, wait until you see the predecessor to his antics: Pants. This man will go out of his way to get the finest of any item Babytorre wants. Even if it means spending thousands upon millions of mora. He is willing to go the distance.

-Overall, the two bicker like an old married couple. Sometimes it gets a little physical. Childe once made the mistake of popping in to check on Babytorre then found the two wildly in disarray, Pantalone with the Doctor shoved halfway up the wall, and a sleeping Babytorre in the other room. All while suspiciously close together. He just assumed they were about to get it on and left as speedy as possible.

-Just in general, they have a pact to not argue in front of the child, let alone speak of a past argument while he is in the vicinity. If they're going to fight, they take it outside. Babytorre cannot find out that they really don't like each other all that much. He cannot.

-Babytorre is not allowed to bathe alone, and it's become a habit that someone bathes with him (might as well take out two birds with one stone, it's not like you'll get time to do it later when you have an innocent child always accidentally running into danger all the time). Babytorre really likes having his hair scrubbed, and Pantalone has mastered the art of not getting soap in the child's eyes, all while knocking him out with head pats and scratches for a little while.

-Pantalone had to teach Dottore how to hold children because this man had no clue. At all. Zero. Zilch. Nada. He literally tried to pick up Babytorre by the wrist at one point and got a smack on the head for it. Pantalone had to awkwardly explain that yes, you have to actually support its main flesh vessel so it doesn't get hurt.

-Don't trust either of them to cook. There's a reason the Fatui have a whole fleet of cooks, okay. These two cannot be allowed to make anything other than hot chocolate for this child, or he might just die from indigestion.

-Dottore actually somewhat comes around, after notoriously hating on Babytorre. He finds that the clone is actually very different from him, and is not another disillusioned copy that wants only attention and fame. This leads to a tentative truce. After a while, Dottore considers him more as his "son-ish creature" rather than an annoying reminder.

-Now there's not just one of the Dottore species sneaking into Pantalone's bed in the middle of the night. There's two, and they are both very cold.

-Dottore's feet and hands- scratch that, his whole body is like an ice cube when he sleeps. Or just in general. Pantalone will not hesitate to whack him with a pillow in the middle of the night if Dottore puts his damn cold feet anywhere near him. Babytorre is okay though, his body is too tiny to really be a disturbance and he warms up quick. But Dottore has gotten shoved out of bed several times by a half asleep Pantalone because he's "too cold."

-I refuse to believe that Dottore even has a bed, he just has a fainting couch that he occasionally crashes on in the lab.

-Don't let these two drink together. Pantalone is very big on playing poker and wining, while Dottore keeps trying to convince him to play glorified Russian roulette. So now it's a high stakes poker game, while Babytorre just plays with the extra cards. Luckily no one's died yet.

-Whenever either of the two has a meeting, they just drop Babytorre off with the other. Though Babytorre now has a sectioned off part of Dottore's lab so he doesn't isn't in the way and doesn't get hurt. It's got a bunch of books with pretty pictures and Dottore's past journals to keep him entertained for a little while, and some of the new clones occasionally drop by to hang out with Babytorre. Turns out, their stress levels have decreased from the usual baseline, which is giving Dottore steady progress on his clones and something to look forward to.

-Pantalone can actually sing decently. Dottore might sound like a dying ostrich, but Pantalone actually has a decent singing voice, and Babytorre really likes his lullabies. Even if they are about mass murder or money. He also likes to be held until he falls asleep, which often leads to Pantalone falling asleep with him. Dottore has to begrudgingly tuck the baby in and carry his co-parent to the actual bed, which he's always grumbling about.

-Dottore sometimes takes untimely naps in the lab, and Babytorre just kind of... plops down in his lap and falls asleep too. The other clones are too scared to join in, but they find it kind of cute and terrifying at the same time.

-Dottore got some substances in his eye at some point, and had to remove his mask. Or at least, it was Pantalone telling him to take off his mask so he can take a look at the damage and put some water on it so it wouldn't burn his eye out, while Dottore very strongly protested. In the end, Pantalone won, but on the sole condition that he didn't stare. What Dottore wasn't prepared for was no questions, a quick and easy solution, then Pantalone went back to work as if nothing had happened. The Doctor is still confused about it.

-Once again, Dottore fell asleep in the lab, except this time Babytorre tucked him in under an old blanket and brought him some water for when he got up. While the child required some assistance reaching the water tap, he has many clones that are now his best friends.

-As Harbingers, these two have a lot to worry about already. So Babytorre can sometimes be a little in the way, though they've both agreed that there will be no shouting or being angry at him. He's just trying his best, and they have full permission to body the other if they step out of line in that case. Pantalone is somehow succeeding, Dottore has gotten bodied twice.

-Babytorre usually hides in Pantalone's coat during meetings and plays with the newest puzzle one of the other clones gives him. Either that, or he wanders around until someone either puts him in their coat or lap. He somehow gets passed back to Pantalone or Dottore at the end of the day though.

-Dinner is usually with the other Harbingers anyways, but Pantalone is always wiping Babytorre's face and scolding him about manners, all the while the Doctor is not eating again, which pisses Pantalone off so much. After the public dinner, Pantalone usually has some food brought back to his office so Dottore can eat in peace or so he can coerce at least a few bites into the Doctor before he gets back to work.

-In general, there is no getting a madman on a logical schedule, so Pantalone has to constantly remind Dottore to at least visit Babytorre every once and a while, even if he won't eat or sleep. Which has turned into an excuse to visit and feed the Doctor, make sure he's actually had a wink of sleep in the past week, and knock him out with a pan if necessary. He's come across some pretty hysterical or downright crazy versions of Dottore, but he has yet to voice judgement, instead sitting him down and getting him some water or vodka.

-Pantalone definitely drinks vodka in a mug unironically. He needs it. He also enjoys wine quite a bit, but only after Babytorre has been put down for bed. He sometimes drinks with La Signora and just bitches about his job.

-Babytorre definitely notices that his new "parents" pretending to tolerate each other has gone beyond just tolerating each other. They each give a fuck a little bit. At least that much.

-They would both kill for Babytorre. That's all you need to know on that point.

-Babytorre has favorite books for each of them. Dottore's shrill and bitchy princess voice is for The Princess and the Pea, Pantalone gets Hansel and Grettle because he keeps muttering snide comments at the "stupid children".

-Screeching in Snezhnayan vs cursing up a storm in Liyuen: the ultimate face off.

-When Babytorre has nightmares, Dottore is always there first, surprisingly. In fact, by the time Pantalone gets there, Babytorre is already being awkwardly comforted and held by the Doctor. Despite supposedly not being able to feel any sort of human attachment, Dottore really does seem to at least try. And it usually works, as Babytorre is asleep in his arms in minutes.

-Babytorre loves getting squished in hugs, and it is the only time these two will willingly touch each other in such a way. The only time.

-Pantalone totally kisses Babytorre's cheek before he goes to bed, it's just his thing.

-He also brushes both Babytorre and Dottore's hair before they wind down for sleep, if he can coax the Doctor into relaxing for two minutes. His success varies, but Babytorre usually almost falls asleep by the time his hair is completely untangled. Dottore usually has to be wrangled like a feral cat, but he looks less deranged by the time Pantalone is done with him.

-Dottore and Babytorre definitely have matching coats. This is non-negotiable. But Babytorre has a blue color scheme like Pantalone's.