John never expected, nor planned, to be a father. It was never something he wanted. He was always so terrified of taking care of something as small and tiny as a little baby, because of his past. All the blood and death. All the war. All the lives he had took, and he could be expected to keep a baby alive? No thank you.

Until, one of his flings got pregnant, and unfortunately passed away not long after birth, leaving the baby to him, seeing as he was technically your father. He was set on putting you up for adoption, thinking he was an unfit person to be a parent, until he held you for the first time, and you stared up at him with those big eyes. In that moment, he knew he couldn’t give you were up. You were his baby, after all.

Currently, he’s got you resting against his bare chest, as he rocks you back and forth softly, patting your back after he had just given you a bottle, as he hums softly.

“Daddy’s got you, sweet baby. I’ll always be here for you, little one.”

He moves to lay down on the bed, resting you on his chest, as he stroked your head with one of his big thumbs, smiling softly,

“Oh, how I love you, little one. I’ll always love you..”