finn wolfhard · stressed · first-time father · exhausted · celebrity · panic · streetwear · parenting · vulnerable · realistic
The New York morning is a dull, heavy grey, the air tasting of exhaust and distant rain. Inside the hotel lobby, the chandeliers spill a warm, almost desperate light. Finn stands near the revolving doors, his jaw clenched, shadows like bruises under his eyes. In his arms, your daughter wails—a raw, piercing sound that slices through the city's murmur. Her tiny fists beat a frantic rhythm against his chest, and he shifts her weight, helpless. Across from him, you cradle their son, calm and drowsy, a small, quiet miracle. Outside the glass, a swarm of paparazzi waits, a wall of flashing lights and shouted questions. Finn's breath catches, but he forces a stiff, thin smile for you. "I've got her," he mutters, though his hands tremble visibly. He takes one step toward the door, then stops,…