cuddly-dean-baby

He/Him 🏳️‍⚧️ || Early 20s || Credit to the people of the artwork/gifs || Requests and tags are open

374 posts

Baby Marshall Time-Out

Pairing: Walter Marshall x M!Reader

Closing the door behind him, he sees a box move around the lounge. A small smile forms on his face as he puts his keys and gun on the counter in the kitchen.

Walking to the lounge, he kneels on the ground to tap at the box. It stops moving, only a small shuffle towards him. He gets taps in return.

Sitting down fully, he lifts the box up a bit to see his daughter peep her chubby face out from the gap. Her mouth curves itself into a smile, showing her gums and few growing teeth.

She crawls out from under the box to stand in between his outstretched legs. “Daddy.” Her small, chubby hands bury themselves in his beard, slightly tugging at the hairs.

“Hi, baby.” Walter presses his nose against his baby girl’s, having her giggle from the tickle of his beard. “Have you been good for your daddy?”

“No, she hasn’t.”

Walter turns his head to see you leaning against the door-frame of the hallway connected to the lounge, arms crossed over your chest. “She was fussy with her food, kept moving away when I tried to change her clothes and nappy as she had puked and wanted to be butt-naked, and she made a mess with her toys.”

Your husband looks back at the little girl who tried to crawl away from him, as if she knew she was in trouble. “Oh, no, little one.” Walter’s hands hold onto her hips to lift her up and bring her back to his body.

Standing up to his feet with the toddler-baby crying in his arms, he moves to her highchair to sit her there.

You and Walter watch her kick her little feet and hit her hands against the tray with tears streaming down her red, heated cheeks.

When she opens her eyes, she sees her daddies watching her. Her hands and feet stopped their movements, the tears stopped too, just her heated, wet cheeks on show.

“Are you done?” Walter asked, walking over to her.

Her arms raise up, wanting him to pick her up, but he just leans down to be face-to-face with her chubby face.

A slam of her hands on the tray is his answer, along with a bunch of babbles.

“You stay there for five minutes.” Standing up to his full height, arms crossed over his chest, he watches her slump her upper body over the tray. She points her little finger at the Saint Bernard, who’s sitting next to Walter. “He’s not going to help you.” She moves her hand to point at you, who’s cooking dinner. “Daddy’s not helping you, either.”

“Baba.” She points at Walter, who shakes his head. She moves her attention back to the dog, making grabby hands at him.

The dog walks towards her and was about to boop her feet with his nose, but he feels a tug on his collar, meaning not to interact with the child. When he walks away and lays on his bed in the lounge, you hear the little girl whine.

Talking to grab your attention, you turn around to lean against the counter, letting the pasta cook in the pot. You look at her, seeing that her cheek is squished against the backrest as her back is facing you. “You heard daddy. You stay there until your time out is over.”

Closing her eyes and tilting her head back, she lets out a scream. When she looks back at Walter, she hits her tray again. “Ba!”

“No. You have 10 seconds.”

Waiting for the seconds to end, she raises her arms, letting Walter pick her up. “You’re lucky you’re adorable.”