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obsessed also with the implication from that one part of le morte that kay literally cannot travel anywhere as himself. he either has to go incognito or disguise himself as an entirely different person wherever he goes because he’s annoyed so many people that everyone just attacks him on sight
Meet ugly with Katsuki saving you from a villain attack at a cafe and you’re just mad he pulled out of there before you could get a chance to grab your drink that’s ready bc you paid 10 dollars for it
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Summary: Noah comes home from work right on time to give his babygirl a bath with lots of bubbles 🫧
Words: 1.8k | pairing: noah sebastian x reader + their daughter | my works | 🏷️ tags: girldad!noah, bathtime, tooth-rooting fluff | Author's note: these thoughts wouldn't leave my mind since yesterday so here it goes ✨
Bubbles & Snow
I had just finished undressing our nearly three-year-old daughter, getting her ready for her evening bath, when the front door downstairs shut, announcing someone’s arrival. The sound was followed by the familiar zipper being undone and shoes being kicked off.
Our little girl snapped her head up toward me as I continued crouched on the floor, gathering her clothes to toss in the laundry hamper. Her big brown eyes went wide with excitement, eyebrows shooting up as if she’d just made a grand discovery.
“Daddy,” she half-whispered half-exclaimed, as though I didn’t already know who had just come home.
Before I could stop her, she was off—bare feet pattering across the floor as she darted out of our bedroom and into the hallway. I called after her, reminding her to be careful, but there was no slowing her down. Noah had been gone all day, and she missed him like crazy.
Our house had two levels. The upstairs, where the bedrooms were located, had a hallway that opened up to a loft-style landing with a wooden railing, overlooking the spacious living room below. From there, you could see the main entrance and most of the ground floor.
My baby skidded to a stop at the railing, grabbing the wooden bars and peering down, eyes bright and full of anticipation.
“Daddy!”
Noah stepped into the living room, smiling brightly as he looked up at her. His hands rested loosely on his hips.
“Who’s this little lady, running around the house with no clothes on?!” he asked, mock-scandalized.
“’S me, daddy!” she declared proudly. “‘S bath time!”
“Bath time?” he echoed, eyes widening in exaggerated surprise. “No way—that’s my favorite time!”
Without missing a beat, he tugged off his white T-shirt dramatically, then he made a theatrical dash for the stairs, trying to peel off his socks mid-run, nearly tripping in the process, sending our daughter into a fit of giggles.
“Faster, Daddy!”
“I’m trying!” he said with urgency, stumbling over his own feet. She squealed with laughter, jumping in place, her long wavy hair tumbling down her back like a waterfall. We hadn’t taken her to a hairstylist for a while and it really was time for a trim.
“Daddy, you’re silly!”
“I think I broke my ankle!”
“No, you didn’t!” she shot back, unable to contain her laughter.
Grinning, he scooped her up into his arms the second he reached the landing. She melted against his bare chest, squealing and squirming as he greeted her by covering her cheeks in loud kisses. Then, with one arm wrapped tightly around her, he made his way toward our suite.
Seeing Noah holding our daughter like that—her always looking so small in his arms even as the years passed—was a sight that never failed to send a flutter of butterflies through my chest.
As he approached me, looking intently into my eyes, he caught the hem of my loose T-shirt between his fingers, tugging me toward him for a kiss.
“Hi, love.”
“Hi,” I said, smiling. “How was work?”
“Good. But now that I’m home with my girls?” He made our daughter bounce on his arm. “Even better.”
My heart melted a little. Just a little.
“I was just about to give her her evening bath. The tub’s already full and at the right temperature.”
“Bubbles!” Our baby girl squealed, throwing her arms in the air.
“Perfect. I’ll hop in with her,” Noah said, nudging his head toward the bathroom. I could tell by the way he looked at me that he meant: Take a break, you’ve earned it.
I’d been with her all day, and while I loved spending time with her and didn’t want to miss a second of her childhood, I couldn’t deny how much I appreciated a few quiet minutes to myself.
I whispered a “thank you” as I stepped aside with her tiny clothes bundled in my arms and left them to their bubbly, lavender-steamed bath.
Five minutes later, I was stretched out on the sectional in our living room, trying to lose myself in the book in my hands. I’d cracked it open with every intention of escaping into another world for a while as Noah washed our baby and got her hydrated and ready with her pjs, but focusing was proving to be a challenge.
From upstairs came the sound of laughter and splashing water (Noah had left the bathroom and bedroom doors open, so their world kept spilling warmly into mine.). I could hear our daughter squealing, filling the house with her sweet sounds. I tried to concentrate, my eyes scanning the same paragraph for the third time, but my attention kept drifting back to the chaos above me.
“Daddy, you’re a snowman!” I heard her say, her voice bubbling with delight.
Immediately, the image of Noah sitting in the tub, legs bent, absolutely covered in white foam, bubbles piling up on his head and shoulders popped into my head. I bit back a smile, the corners of my mouth twitching.
I turned another page I hadn’t actually read, the words blurring as sounds continued to drift down from upstairs as the minutes passed.
There was the gentle splashing of water, Noah’s deep, low voice, and our daughter’s endless giggles and mispronounced words bouncing off the walls.
“Okay,” Noah said, in his best dad voice, “arms up!”
“Nooo!” she squealed, knowing what came next.
“Come on, arms up! We’ve got to clean those little armpits. Very important business.”
“No, Daddy, that tickles!”
“You know I’m just doing my job. It’s either that or you’re going to be a smelly baby.”
“M’not smelly!” She countered, and I could see her pout and the glare she was probably sending to Noah so clearly in my head.
“You won’t be if you let me wash you properly. Arms up, come on.”
“No tickles, ok, daddy?”
“Okay. No tickles, I promise.”
“Good Daddy.”
I heard Noah laughing to himself as she praised him with that authoritative voice she must have picked up from him, probably from when the rest of the boys were around and he bossed them around about business.
“Arms up now, and close your eyes.”
Before he even touched her, I could tell she was already squealing and trying to clamp her arms to her sides.
“Daddy, no!!”
Noah didn’t reply. He focused on washing her, making sure she didn’t slip under his touch and sink into the water. He told her to be still a couple of times, using his serious dad tone.
“Not again, Daddy,” she whined after a minute. “I want to be smelly.”
Noah’s snort reached the living room.
“Smelly babies can’t sleep with their mom and dad on the weekends. Did you know that?”
“Yes, they can! Don’t tell lies, Daddy!”
Noah shook his head, trying to contain a smile, biting his lower lip as he looked down at the tiny creature submerged in water up to her chest, facing him as she sat caged between his bent legs.
“Jesus,” he muttered, starting to wash himself, “so dramatic for a two-year-old.”
“I’m not dramatic!” she shouted. Splash.
“Yes, you are.”
“No! I’m Elsa!” she declared suddenly. I could tell she tried to stand up too quickly, because I heard Noah say, “Easy there.”
“I have snow powers!” she continued. “Look!”
I was so tempted to get up and go upstairs to peek and watch the scene unfold with my own eyes. But I stayed put, imagining exactly what was happening in the bathroom.
“Aaahh!” he shouted, making the water slosh so much that some of it spilled out of the tub. “I’m freezing! I’m drowning in snow!”
I snorted, letting the book drop from my hands to the cushions beneath my legs. Noah’s tall frame was probably awkwardly folded into our standard-sized bathtub, and now he was pretending to be defeated dramatically with snow and suds thrown by our daughter in some imaginary battle.
About twenty minutes later, I heard the creak of the stairs and the soft pad of footsteps.
When I looked up, I saw Noah and our daughter coming down to meet me in the living room.
Noah had a white towel wrapped around his waist, and another twisted into a bulky turban on his head. In his arms, our daughter was bundled up like a burrito, tucked in tight in her towel, arms free, a miniature towel-turban wobbling on her head, slightly off-center. They looked like posh spa models.
“Mommy, we match,” our baby announced, putting a hand on her towel-turban.
“I can see that,” I chuckled.
“She insisted,” Noah replied, shrugging. “Couldn’t say no.”
“I am clean now,” she said proudly, her skin shiny and hydrated. “I’m not smelly. Can I sleep with you and Daddy?”
I shared a knowing look with Noah, and all I got back was that warm, love-filled expression. He could try to teach our daughter that she wouldn’t get to spend the night with us unless she was good and followed the rules, but the truth was, Noah was the one having the hardest time letting her transition from our room to her own.
He loved morning snuggles and waking up to little fingers pushing at his side, telling him the sun was up and reminding him that Nick would scold him for being late to the studio if he didn’t get moving.
She stretched her arms toward me as Noah rounded the sofa and stopped in front of me, gently handing her over. I scooped her up, and she toppled into my lap.
“Of course you can, sweetheart,” I said to her, kissing her pink chubby cheek. “Mm, you smell good, that’s true.”
“I smell like a flower, Mommy?”
“Like a lavender burrito, if you ask me,” Noah replied, flopping down next to us, legs spread, sinking into the cushions. He looked at us for a beat before lifting an arm to adjust our baby’s turban. “You should’ve seen her in action,” he said to me. “She froze me with snow powers. I barely survived.”
“No way.” I took her by the arms and lifted her so her toes touched my thighs. “Is that true? You froze Daddy?”
“But it wasn’t real, Mommy. Just suds and bubbles. I didn’t hurt Daddy.”
Noah draped his arm around my shoulders and tilted his head until it touched mine, both of us gazing lovingly at our daughter.
“You didn’t, baby,” Noah reassured her in a low, gentle voice.
“But he tickled me. Here,” she said, pointing to her left armpit.
“No, I didn’t,” Noah shot back quickly, raising an eyebrow and pointing at her. “I cleaned you. That’s different.”
“I don’t like it.”
“But now you’re clean and smelling so nice, aren’t you?” I said, bouncing her gently on my lap. “Tell you what,” I added, pulling her closer and brushing my lips against her ear, sending Noah a mischievous glance, “why don’t we tickle Daddy tonight when we go to bed?”
Immediately, her face lit up, and within seconds, a grin spread across her entire face.
