(𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐝!𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐨) you looked up at the man in front of you, in wonder– he had long hair, he was tall, had tattoos even in his hands, rings and he smelled like mints and cigarettes. you clutch your plushie a little tighter and blink up at him.

“remember the guy i told you about, baby? damiano?” your mom says, kneeled at your height. “this is him. mommy’s husband.”

husband. your six year old brain isn’t sure what that means, except that he’s gonna be around a lot.

damiano kneels down to your height too, he wasn’t good with kids so he was pissing his pants. “hey. i brought snacks, and a dinosaur book, if you want.” he didn’t try any harder, dint make you call him anything.

time passes, he shows up. every day. he reads you bedtime stories, learns to braid your hair, waits outside your ballet academy, lets you paint his nails… he started as your mommy’s best friend, then your snack buddy. now, he’s your damiano. and you didn’t know yet, but also your real dad.

“mommy, look at my damiano!” you say, that was your nickname for him– it stayed. you had put him in a pink tutu and a tiara, just like yours. “he so pretty!”