reiner sleeps on the side of the bed closest to the door.
he always has.
even now, half-awake, his body is angled like a shield. broad shoulders tense beneath the thin cotton of his short, blond hair falling into his eyes in soft, uneven strands. his face looks difference in the dark, less guarded, more worn. lines at the corner of his eyes that only show when he's tired. a mouth that always seem set like he's bracing for something.
he hasn't slept yet.
you can tell by the way his breathing stays shallow, controlled, like rest is something he has to earn.
you shift closer, careful not to startle him. the mattress dips slightly. your hand rests against his arm, solid and warm, muscle relaxed only because he knows it's you.
"reiner," you whisper.
your voice is quiet, still heavy with sleep, soft in the way it only ever is at night. not asking. just there.
"i'm awake," he murmurs.
his voice is low, rough around the edges, like he hasn't used it much today. there's a steadiness to it—practiced, almost—but underneath, it sounds tired. honest.
you don't rush him. you never do.
minutes pass. your thumb traces slow, absent lines over his skin. outside, something hums in the distance—a car, streetlight, life continuing without asking anything of him.
"i don't think i deserve this," he says at last.
the words fall flat between you, not dramatic, not rehearsed. like he's been holding them in his chest for a long time and finally ran out of room.
you breathe in. his scent. him.
"deserve what?" you ask softly, even though your heart already knows.
he swallows. you can feel it under your hand.
"you," he says. then, quieter, "this. the house. the quiet." a pause, long enough to ache. "peace."
you move closer until your chest presses lightly to his back, until the warmth between you feels shared. your forehead rests against the space between his shoulder blades, where his breath rises and falls.
"this isn't something you took," you tell him. your voice is gentle, steady, the way it always is when he starts to drift too far inward. "you didn't steal it. you built it."
he lets out a breath that sounds almost unsteady.
"some days," he says, "it feels like i'm pretending. like i'm waiting for someone to realize i don't belong here."
you slide your hand into his, threading your fingers together slowly, deliberately.
"you come home," you say. "you take off your boots at the door. you sleep facing the hallway because you think it keeps me safe." your thumb presses lightly against his knuckles. "you belong."
that's when he finally turns.
careful, like he's afraid of breaking something fragile, reiner rolls onto his side to face you. up close, you can see the exhaustion etched into his features—the shadows under his eyes, the way his brows knit together even now. his eyes search your face like he's looking for permission.
"i'm tired," he admits.
"i know," you whisper.
you lift your hand to his face, brushing your thumb beneath his eye. his lashes flutter, and when he closes them, it's like something inside him finally loosens. he leans into your touch, just slightly—a quiet surrender.
you rest your forehead against his.
"you can rest," you tell him. "im here."
reiner exhales, slow and shaky, and this time, his breath deepens. his arm slips around your waist, protective even in his sleep, pulling you closer like it's instinct.
the door stays shut. the house stays still.
and for tonight, reiner lets himself believe he's allowed to be safe.
Kento is a hardworking man who gets things done at work. Ironically, the only thing he can’t manage is getting his boys to behave.
⤷ series masterlist ┈ kento's dad lore
CW. smau / family au / cursing / fluff / crack / bickering, chaotic siblings
📩 Out of office auto reply, enabled by Kento Nanami
From: Kento Nanami <██████████>
Subject: Out of Office
Good day,
I am currently on a scheduled vacation with my family in Osaka and will have limited access to email and may not be able to respond promptly.
Kindly contact the appropriate department head for assistance should you have any urgent concerns.
Thank you for your understanding.
Best regards,
Kento Nanami
P.S. Free cookies for everyone on Thursday, courtesy of my wife’s bakery, in celebration of our son getting into his dream college. Thank you.
📹 Interview clips with the Nanami family
Papa on managing his expectations
KENTO: My wife and I have no expectations for our boys, but they always find ways to surprise us, and that makes me really proud. Feels like we've done an amazing job parenting.
Mama gets sentimental over her boys
YOU: I look at the 3 of them and wonder, when did they get so... grown?! Ryo used to ask us to read him bedtime stories. Choso has always been such a darling and so reliable. Oh, and we always found Yuji's appetite a bit funny for a 3-year-old!
The boys on who's the favorite
RYO: Clearly I'm the favorite. I'm the only one who has a second name. Tell me that doesn't have some undertones of favoritism. Go on, change my mind.
CHOSO: I don't think our parents have favorites. I mean, at least not to me. Never really felt it. Though I do have to say we probably each have our own unique ways of getting them to say yes to our small requests.
YUJI: If I'm not the favorite, then why are we going to Osaka when it was my idea? Hm? Hasn't clicked in any of their heads yet, huh?
📱 Kento's only note on the Notes App
Daily affirmations
The quality of my life is the quality of my communication.
I listen to understand, not to respond.
I appreciate all the small things in my life because my children will never count the times I failed.
Mama and I will live a long, happy life together until our hair shares the same shade of grey.
My children will be successful in whatever endeavors they choose, and their chosen paths will bring them joy.
So, since the JJK boys already have a college AU (frat!Gojo / nerd!Gojo, plug!Choso, frat!Sukuna), would it be asking too much for a Demon Slayer college AU too?
Unless one already exists and I just haven’t come across it yet.
Summary: He doesn’t care anymore. His past won’t haunt him. Toji let you go so you could fulfill your duty and get married off to the head of the Gojo clan, he doesn’t care whether you live or die– But he must say it is kind of weird that the brat next to you looks like his carbon copy.
I wanna be high all the time would you come with me?
In which Plug!Choso can't seem to follow family policy and always lets you get away with not paying...with money, that is ;)
Warnings: smut, minors and ageless blogs do not interact you will be blocked, p in v, cunnilingus, talks of weed, criminal activity, swearing, talks of 'whoring oneself out', Choso gets used and abused here but when does he not in my fics, premature ejaculation (Choso can't help it poor thing), features Sukuna, a little crack, college au, non-curse au, not proofread
Word Count: 2.7k
Art by einruji__ on insta
“No, not this time.”
You groan. “What? No, come on. Just whip your dick out and let me suck it a little.”
Plug!Choso’s fingers drum on his steering wheel, the paint on his nails almost completely scratched off. “Can’t. Sukuna throws a fit every time the money doesn’t add up — somehow he can tell when I’ve put in my own money.”
The era of getting free weed in exchange for the oldest currency there existed in the history of humanity has really ended, it seems.
Back in the good ol’ days, you’d slide your panties down your legs in the janitor’s closet and hand it over to him for a baggy, give him a messy blow job behind the bike shed till he blacks out and can’t stop you from snatching what you’re owed, let him suck on your tits in one of the art rooms and call you mommy, or grant him an hour of sketching your pussy for some thing or the other.
Now, he actually expects you to pay up.
Curse the greedy Ryomen bastard — his family’s so stinking rich that he should never have had to resort to drug distribution. He just does it for the love of the game, for control. Running a campus-wide empire must make him so fucking hard.
Guess he’s been especially hard up on his lil cousin because of you. Guilt should consume you, and yet only frustration does.
Sitting in the passenger seat, you shake his arm with a whine. “But, Cho. I’ve got a super hard exam coming up; I need it to calm me.”
Plug!Choso pulls his arm away from you, crossing them altogether so you can’t touch him. “Sorry, I can’t. I’m serious this time. He’s still mad at me for last time, says he’s embarrassed to have such a spineless loser in the family. I’m on the last straw as it is.” He sighs at the memory. “You should go.”
Nah.
Manicured nails poke his beefy bicep, trailing upwards. Goosebumps rise on his skin. He frowns.
“Choso…”
With a groan, he inches away, pressing himself to his window to get as far away from your wandering hand as possible. “Don’t say my name like that.”
“Like what, silly boy?”
Plug!Choso’s messy pigtails bounce with his sudden panic. He’s growing redder in the face, messing up his usual blank expression. “Like that! Like you’re gonna make me eat you out for two hours just for some weed again.”
Since you got into his car, he’s been avoiding your eyes. Maybe he knew you’d come dressed basically like a hooker — tight shirt that hangs low to reveal ample cleavage, tighter skirt that doesn’t even cover your panties when you sit, and his favourite: fishnet tights.
Pouting, you drag your nails to his chin. You grip it firmly and force him to face you. Now that he’s looking at you, all of you, the fight in his eyes waver, washing away Sukuna’s threat and leaving behind only his unbridled desire for you.
Hook.
“Chosito,” you drawl, “are you saying you don’t enjoy eating my pussy out? That’s hurtful.”
Line.
His lashes flutter, lips parting like he’s your puppy and you’ve rubbed at a good spot. “N-no…love your pussy…love your taste.”
Sinker.
You grin, devilishly. “Prove it.”
Adjusting the seat back, reclining all the way down, and parting your legs wide, you beckon him over. He all but scampers to your side, slotting his muscular self in the tight spot between your thighs. You can’t count how many times you’ve ended up in this position. Most times, it’d been for weed. Other times, you’re not afraid to admit, had been because he’s just really fucking good at eating pussy.
Cold metal stings your skin when he grips the pudge of your legs. You hiss.
Plug!Choso says, “Sorry,” before rubbing warmth into your inner thighs. He runs his hands up and down. “I like when you wear fishnets.”
“‘cause they make my thighs pretty?”
“Hmm. Also ‘cause they feel nice against my cheeks.”
You smile. “That’s dirty, Cho.”
He shrugs. Lacking any ounce of hesitation, he rips a hole in your tights, baring you just a layer more to his hungry eyes. His thumb grazes your slit through the material. You fight the urge to squirm. “Dirtier than you wearing lacey, purple panties for me?”
You hum. “I wanted you to have a good view.”
“I hate that you know I like it when you say things like that,” he mutters, breath teasing the sensitive skin. “I hate that you know I’ll always cave in.”
Then, he yanks your panties to the side and wastes no more time. An experienced tongue works its way between your swollen lips, spreading them open with his fingers so he may lap at your entire slit.
“Oh god!”
“Mmm, missed this,” he moans.
His tongue piercing scrapes through the heated flesh, the coldness a sharp contrast. It provides the perfect friction against your clit, drawing it out of its hood. Not many men have a tongue piercing, or can even pull it off. But he…he can more than pull it off; he’s practically the CEO of tongue fucking piercings.
And there’s no faking the wetness gushing out of you.
Honestly, you don’t even like weed that much. You just like this game you play; the prize is always too damn good. Maybe you’re absolutely insane to play with his attraction, but maybe he’s more so because he can never seem to say no.
Not to you at least.
“Suck my clit, Cho,” you ask, growing more and more into it than you had planned.
“You’re so bossy,” he grumbles, though he does exactly as you say.
Threading your fingers through his hair, you guide him, rubbing his face and nose to where you need him most. He’s so pliable under your touch, not a second of resistance. Such a good boy. “You -mm- love it.”
Plug!Choso’s drinking up your dripping juices like it’s his last meal, like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted, and he has no intention of letting you go until he’s had his fill. His gluttony fogs up the windows more as rain drizzles over the metal shell.
It’s always like this with him: he says no, you look at him a little wrong, and then he gives in, as though depriving himself of using your body for his own pleasure is such a crime against humanity that he’d be doing the world a disservice by not making you cum.
“Tastes so good,” he mumbles against your clit. “Better than weed.”
“Nothing’s better than weed,” you moan.
His pretty eyes meet yours, all clouded and glossy and half-lidded so quickly. “You’re wrong.” The sincerity, the adamant assertion, the genuine belief in his raspy voice has your back arching off the leather of his fancy sports car.
He’s positively making out with your pussy — there’s no other way to describe it. He’s kissing and tonguing your clit and hole as if he’s channeling all his frustrations and devotion to where you’re most sensitive. Every time you’ve abandoned him after getting what you want, every time you’ve ignored him out in public, every time you’ve gotten him into trouble. He uses all of it against you.
Sluuuuuurrrp! Sluuuurrrpppp!
His name escapes your lips with a sharp cry. “More!”
Plug!Choso snickers against your pussy. “Sukuna’s gonna hate when he smells pussy on my breath. You know, he kidnapped Yuji for a weekend as punishment when I left your pink polka dot thong in his bed after I came in it?”
You laugh too, breathily, petting his head with a slight twinge of pride. “Yeah? Is that why I never got one of my favourite panties back?”
“No, I just kept it.”
“Along with seven of my other panties?”
“I’m building a collection,” he says simply.
Two nimble fingers work their way inside your pulsing hole, stretching past the rough pleats at the entrance. There’s only the slightest sting before your back arches at the pressure. You mewl.
“You’re so tight,” he says, marvelling like it’s the first time he’s ever felt you. “So warm…so fucking wet. God, I wish I could live in here forever.”
Mischievously, you reply, “You could…for free weed”
“Family-only privilege, sorry,” he playfully retorts, not sounding sorry at all. How can he when he’s too distracted with forcing squelches out of your cunt like he’s conversing with it? “So loud, so fucking dirty” he whispers. “Sounds so pretty. Love this pussy.”
“My g-spot, Cho,” you breathe out. “Do that thing I -ngh!- like.” When he curls his slender fingers, prodding at that spot inside you that has the whites of your eyes taking over, you yell out his name.
Plug!Choso pants, like he’s equally as delirious with euphoria as you are. The car shakes with your combined squirming. “Love the sound of my name on your lips. Always sounds so good. Say it again. Please.”
“Choso!”
He groans. “Thank you, baby.”
Thank god the school parking lot is usually empty on Tuesday nights. Although the windows have fogged up, you’d never risk being seen in such a scandalous position. This is reserved for late nights you’ll add to your list of college regrets.
Plug!Choso hikes up your leg so he can press in deeper, ramming a barrage of attacks at that spot inside you that has you seeing stars. “Faster? Deeper? Let me hear your voice. Tell me what to do. Boss me around. Tell me how to please you, to make you go fucking crazy. Tell me what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling. Tell me everything. I want it all.”
“Fuckfuckfuckfuck Choso!”
“More,” he demands, pleads. “Give me more. Give me all of it.”
Your vision blurs. You scream.
SPLASH!
Eyes dark, not a hint of humanity in them anymore, he scrambles over your body to do one of his most favourite things: making you taste yourself. A gulp-full of your cum is shoved inside your mouth. You taste your own sweetness and tanginess, moaning into his mouth and letting his pierced tongue explore the moist cavern like he had with your pussy.
Below the belt, he hurriedly unbuckles his belt, unzipping his ripped jeans, and freeing his already rock-hard cock. A wet patch meets your skin.
Your bleary eyes flutter.
“Did you…”
Plug!Choso nods, not the least bit ashamed. “Sorry.”
Man, you’d forgotten he has inhuman recovery speed.
He yanks a condom down his heated length, prodding your entrance. Inch by inch, he enters you. Together, you moan. He’s so fucking big it steals your breath. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. The stretch stings a little, but not so much that you don’t relish every second he’s filling you up.
It’s only a moment that he bottoms out and he’s quickly pulling out so that only his very tip is inside before he rams it to the hilt.
“Fuck!”
Your skin slap together, rocking the car so passionately that if anyone’s walking past, they’ll know exactly what’s happening inside. The thought has you creaming on his cock.
“Sogoodsogoodsogood,” he mumbles up at the roof of his car, head bumping into it, like a mantra.
You bite down on one of his chains, peering up at him. “Use me, Choso. Fuck me hard, baby.”
“N-no, don’t say -hngh!- things like that.”
When he hits at a particular sensitive spot inside you, you clench down hard, unable to help yourself.
“S-shit!”
Plug!Choso groans, shuddering. The leather by your head creaks with the strain of his fingers digging into the material. “Nononono, fuck!”
He slumps into the crook of your neck, hips halting their movement.
One clench.
Just one, and he’s tapping out.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, bashfully and wholly humiliated, “I did it again.”
Cooing, you pet his head. “It’s okay. You can repay me with weed.”
Plug!Choso groans for a different reason. “Almost forgot why you’re here. You have a serious problem.”
“Says the one-stroke wonder.”
“...Shut up.”
.
.
.
Plug!Choso smacks his head against the steering wheel. “I’m dead.”
“Are you actually scared of your cousin? You know he can’t do anything to you, least of all kill you, right? He’s all talk.” You tuck the fresh bag he got from the boot of the car between your tits, smiling like you’d been given the world.
Dryly, he says, “You clearly don’t know him very well.”
You don’t debate that; your interactions with the pink-haired man have been limited, thank god. But you still know him well enough to know he is, in fact, batshit crazy. You’ve seen that man hold a guy under water in the pool of a frat house during a party until people had to pull him off. Pretty sure there’s a rumour going around that he kicks puppies for fun too.
Knock.
You yelp.
A blur at his window prompts a wince from him. With heavy reluctance, he rolls it down. “Hey…”
Like all the talking had summoned him, pink hair comes into view. So does a scowl. “Don’t fucking ‘hey’ me you fucking loser.” His gloomy gaze slides over to you. “What the fuck are you doing here? Whoring yourself out for weed again?”
“No,” you mumble, pulling your skirt down a little.
Sukuna’s nose crinkles. “Don’t lie to me, you dumb bitch; It smells like pussy and STDs in here.” He turns back to his cousin. “Tell me you haven’t given Miss Druggie over there any of our weed.”
Plug!Choso says, “I haven’t.”
The other man’s eyes narrow. “You’re a shit liar.”
At that, your plug keeps quiet. Though not an ounce of fear radiates off him, he is smart enough not to say anything that’ll earn him more smacks against the head than what’s already coming for him, or something of the sort.
Frustrated, Sukuna stands to his full height outside the car and runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck, I’m losing my mind here. Does no one have any entrepreneurial instincts?” He pops his head back in, fixing you a glare that could kill. “Get the fuck out. Walk home, get held at gun point by a hobo, or trip and scrape your knee — I don’t fucking care. Just get outta here and quit exploiting my loser cousin.”
Exiting the car, you rub at your arms to generate some warmth. At least it’s stopped raining. With the car between you, you return Sukuna’s scowl right back at him. “Leave him alone.”
Sukuna waves you off. “Yeah, yeah. Oh, and if he tests positive for anything, and I mean anything, I’ll personally make sure you never graduate from any respectable university.”
“I’m clean, asshole. Worry about yourself — everyone knows you have syphilis and that’s why you’re so highstrung.”
Sukuna growls out, pulling at his hair, “Fucking Gojo Satoru, that piece of twink shit.”
Rolling your eyes, you bend down to whisper a ‘bye, Choso’ through the window. He does a half-nod, slyly tucking your panties into his pocket. Guess you’re gonna be walking home pantyless again. “I’ll see you around, ‘kay?”
“Liar,” he says without any real heat to it.
Metres away, you can still hear their pretty one-sided conversation, and you fight to stifle a laugh.
“If you want pussy so fucking bad, then buy yourself a pocket pussy, you absolute disgrace. Don’t fucking beg me to make you one of my drug goons just so you can get in her cheap ass panties and then fuck me over by shorting me.”
“Sorry.”
“Say that without a raging boner next time and I might believe you. God, why must my family be so fucking stupid? What did I do to deserve this? Was I some war criminal in my past life? A mass murderer, or something?”
“Probably.”
“Shut the fuck up and quit looking at her ass — look at me, you idiot…Fuck, go rub one out; I can’t take you seriously with a boner damn near poking my eye. You disgust me.”
(No mention of how you became parents, could be interpreted as adoption or pregnancy, gn!reader)
ANDREW
Andrew is such a cute dad, he's so attentive.
He's one of those parents that genuinely listens to whatever his children are saying.
Answers to any and all nonsensical things his children say.
It often caught you off guard while you were roaming the house, the random snippets of conversation.
Like how one day, you were walking through the hallway with a basket of laundry balanced on your hip, folded baby blankets that had been cleaned of their spit up and general gross baby stuff, alongside toddler clothes that the babies had only worn for about 2 weeks, but the fit on their small chubby bodies was already growing tight.
From the twins bedroom you hear giggling increase in volume, peering through the open doorway, you see Andrew with one toddler curled up in his lap- the quieter of the two, who seemed preoccupied with twiddling with a chew toy to really listen to his father or his rambunctious sister.
And then you hear a tiny voice shout "Heehee! Dada it go boom!" The eldest of the two twins, your rowdy mess of frizzy hair and wide smiles that looked so reminiscent of Andrews own.
A mock expression of seriousness flitters onto your partners face, a facade of solemn glumness that is already drawing another giggle out of the young girl.
"Boom indeed. I'll alert the scientists, this is crucial and very important stuff" he speaks after a small pause, a smile flittering onto his lips as he mirrors the gleeful toddler.
He was always so good at that, making the children feel heard, brilliant and hilarious. You think to yourself, not for the first time, how lucky you are that it's him. Two years of childish nonsense and more throw up and various bodily fluids that you can count, but you wouldn't change it for the world.
^^^^ he has twins because I say so
Also there is a poeticness to it, that I can't just toss aside
He tries SO hard not to treat them differently, always thinking back to his own childhood.- ensuring history doesn't repeat itself is always on the front of his mind.
He is constantly recommending new hobbies to them, they mention liking stuffed animals? Why don't we learn to crochet so you can make your own? They look at the TV screen for 5 seconds on any nature program, he's buying a book on the subject.
It's really sweet. He found what he loved to do at a young age through unhealthy ways, and he's trying to encourage exploration but without the pressure or expectations he had as a kid.
He's very much an overprotective parent, but not in a strict stern way.
In a way where he wants to know what's going on in his children's life.
He preaches the "if you're going to do something bad, tell me about it first. I'd rather you be safe while exploring, than keeping it a secret."
He raises VERY comfortable teenagers, they come into his office at home and flop down onto the armchair in the corner immediately spewing about some drama, or a rude substitute teacher as soon as they get home.
He always puts down what he's doing to listen and be present.
It's very much reminiscent of the little drabble I wrote above, he still listens with apt interest, but his babies aren't exactly babies anymore. 😭
ELIAS
He's certified Cool Dad™
When you guys decide to have kids, he realizes how much he needs to adapt
He buys a car, car seats, picks out starry wallpaper for the nursery. He's so far out of his element, but deep down he's ecstatic.
Although he buys a car, he doesn't give up on riding his bike
In fact, your son decides that he wants to be included too
By the time Elias realized something was wrong, it was too late.
In hindsight, the silence should've been an indicator of trouble brewing. But nonetheless, he finds himself standing in the doorway into the garage, helmet in hand, staring at the explosion of colour now decorating the matte black material.
Stickers adorned from chin guard to crown, dinosaurs, stars, hearts and even a glitter unicorn displayed proudly buy small hands.
The culprit, the 18 month old boy sitting idly on the floor, legs splayed and tiny hands gripping an empty sticker sheet.
"Hey bud, you been doing some DIY?"
A bright smile, and matching twinkling eyes gazed back , "stickers!!"
"yeah... I can see that."
Elias rotated the helmet slowly, a T-Rex sticker slapped across the visor. "There's a dino where my eyes go bud"
"Rawr" a giggle comes from that happy face, now having toddled over and reaching up to touch the helmet still in his dad's grip. "He make you drive fast"
"hmm how about we move him from the visor next to the unicorn?"
"'kay"
Elias sighed with a soft smile, placing the helmet onto his head after moving the sticker, he saw himself going for a night drive to clear his head, leather jacket and a motorcycle helmet with dinos, hearts and a very determined unicorn.
"well, I suppose safety and style matters"
"Daddy happy?"
"Yeah. I really am bud."
His favorite thing to do is read your son bedtime stories.
From a book, usually one depicting stars and space, or just making one up on the spot, he loves it
He puts those glow in the dark star stickers on the ceiling of the nursery, imagining him laying in bed with his kid when they're sick, running his hand through his kids hair and looking at the ceiling.
He cries whenever they hit a milestone, no matter how small.
First day of kindergarten? Tears. Won first place in a science fair? Tears. Graduating college with honors? Tears.
An older Elias who has aged like fine wine, salt and pepper hair and a scratchy beard crying at his children?
🥴🥴🥴
ISAAC
You and Isaac become parents accidentally, whether that's through accidental pregnancy, or finding some kids left on the side of the road, similar to how pickle was found- it's up to you
Isaac is scared of not connecting with his kids, he's gone through a lot, and doesn't know how to act around children
He would be very over prepared though, he buys parenting books, listens to podcasts. He's studying for parenthood like it's a law exam.
Isaac had imagined this a thousand times buy now, none included the shaking in his hands.
The baby lay against his chest, in all her tiny glory, her head tucked beneath his chin like she had always been there. One month old. Every one always says that number as if it ever could explain anything. As if one month was enough time to know how to be a father
The baby blinked up at him, her dark eyes unfocused and small fingers curling and uncurling against his sleep shirt. He watched her breathe, her chest rising and falling, afraid if he stopped watching for a mere moment something would go wrong.
"I don't really know what I'm doing" he admitted softly, "But I hope you know how much I'm trying."
She cooed softly, gummy toothless smile beaming at him, her grip tightening on his shirt. A grip, a choice, strong and delibrate. Seeking comfort in her father
He swallowed, "okay... We can figure this out."
He started to hum, off key and quiet, perhaps it was an old song? A nursery rhyme his mother used to sing? He didn't remember, but it felt right regardless
For the first time in a long while, his chest unclenched.
He separates his work with his children completely.
From 8-4 his children attend school nearby, from 8-4 he works on cases.
From 4-8 he spends time with his children, cooks dinner, bathes them, before reading them a night time story.
It depends what he does after that, he might go back to work, re reading over files and cases, or he settles down with his partner.
He's an incredibly over protective father. He does NOT respect privacy, but he never makes his children feel violated.
All of his information searching on his children's lives are kept secret and far away from them
JONAH
He needs to be sure they're safe. Just in case.
(ft my fan work)
Is the funny dad.
He lives and thrives off of making his kids giggle and smile.
He genuinely enjoys spending time with his children, he looks forward to every second of it.
He brags about absolutely everything they do.
They made a finger painted picture? It's framed on the back of his stream set up. They made him a happy birthday card, trust he's not gonna stop yapping about it until the next years card
Loves watching cartoons with his kids
Bluey? Yeah he's invested in that shit, he goes on full rants to his twitch chat about the plot of episodes.
The red live button pulsed in the corner of the scream, chat whizzing past too fast to read. His headset was on, mic hot, game loud and hands sweaty from button smashing.
"And that's why you should never reload mid fight- ESPECIALLY in the open." He said while leaning forward, "Just watch chat"
The door behind him creaked, the chat of course, immediately noticed.
[CHAT]
> door????
> guys who is it. A) pet. B) partner. C) child.
> Awwwweee baby jonah
"Dad?" Came a small voice.
Jonah closed his eyes as he got killed in game, "Hey buddy, I'm live"
The newly turned seven year old shuffled into the frame anyways, pajama shirt on backwards, and holding something suspiciously sticky. "I know. But my iPads on 6% which is basically 0 and I can't find my charger"
[CHAT]
> the answer was c) child.
> LMAOOO
> very important reason to interrupt steam, I get it lil bro
Jonah muted, "did you check your room?"
"yes"
'Did you check the place where you definitely left it but don't remember?" He joked.
"that's not a place, silly!" Responded a giggle.
Jonah unmuted "Alright chat, please hold while I go and do a very very very important side quest for my spawn... I will be back briefly"
The kid tugged his sleeve "also, I'm hungry"
"of course you are"
"And the dog threw up on my bed"
Jonah slow blinks, looking at his kid. Then his camera, then his kid again. "Okay we'll be right back"
Before he could stand to turn the screen to the brb screen a little voice interrupted.
"Hi internet! I hope your parents know you listen to my dad, he swears too much- and you always have to get permission to watch things with naughty words."
The screen switched and the mic muted for a final time.
"alright you little monster let's go hunt for your charger"
He's children are especially gross, sticky hands constantly grabbing at things they really shouldn't be
His kids think that he has the coolest job ever.
God forbid you try and get them to go play outside or do the dishes. "Dad plays video games for a living! I don't have to go to school!"
origamiaround
pixelskylines
turnnoffyourmind
janainaart
jbbartram-illu
