I don't even have Daddy Issues. I have a great relationship with my father.
That being said. I desire Bro Santa carnally. He is precisely half my age yet the things that I would do to him if he were real would put me in a list of sorts.
Absolute DILF. Idc if Dear's 10 years old— I birthed that boy myself. Oh but wait Guita's 14—? Nah, I birthed her too. The power of my love aged both of them up. IDC.
Ghave lectures tomorrow 7 am. Yet here I am flicking my shit to Bro Santa x Reader.
bro is like disgustingly obsessed with his wife and it’s actually really a problem it’s also disgustingly hot#menwhoyearn
10 million percent yes and he's not the least bit sorry about it.
he takes any and every opportunity to mention you, even when the conversation has absolutely nothing to do with you.
"we're gonna hafta replace the rotors - brake pads, too. fuck." enjin mumbles around a cigarette, face worn and tired from the days long mission they had all been sent on.
" yeah that's good and fine and everything," gris starts as he comes around from the side of the truck. "but we're also outta gas. hand me your knife so i can pop the tank to one of..."
bro pops his head up from where it was angled down into the hood of the car, his mind previously occupied with cooling the overheated engine down.
"you said how is my wife?"
"no, i didn't."
"she's amazing. a real angel." he shoots off a disgustingly cheery grin that makes the other two men even more annoyed at their current predicament. "she just started learning sign so she can teach dear, and she learned how to sign i love you and it's the cutest fuckin' thing - she just goes around like this all day. god, i love her."
the other cleaners learned very early on not to try and cajole him into hitting the strip with them on a rare night off, because he never failed to be in a funk and ready to lash out at any poor soul who made the mistake of approaching him.
"hey, sexy." the quintet falls silent as a real smoke show (by enjin's standards) stops at their table, a seductive smile on her painted lips. enjin, gris, follo and semiu's eyes snap to her, only for the lot of them to deflate when they see her gaze focused squarely on bro.
he's seven shots deep and has been staring at his wedding band and sighing forlornly. they've been pointedly ignoring him for the past hour, their ears still ringing from the million tales he had told them about you.
"she calls me sexy, too." bro shakes his head as if he's in agony, and he is. the woman slides a hand up his back and rests it on his shoulder, and he stiffens up, face curling into one of utter disgust as he shakes her off. "chinga tu madre. i'm married." she smiles wider and presses her front fully against his back and the group share looks of worry - mostly for themselves and the potentially lifetime ban they'll be facing if they don't get her ass far away from bro.
"to her?"
semiu visibly wretches.
"so then where is she, hm? only an idiot would let someone as fine as you out at night." enjin sighs and lights a cigarette. gris downs the rest of the drink that he had been nursing. follo notes the nearest exit. semiu eyes the woman across the room that she had been banking on all night and slides out of the booth to hurry up and make her move.
"idiot?" bro sneers. "my baby is a goddamn scholar - idiot? a scholar who beats ass, too. do you want me to call her? hold on - baby, honey, chichona - ah, what's the problem? they are big! to me, yes! no no, that's not the point - come beat this girl's ass. she's pushing up on your man, baby. i'm scared. she's giving me the jeebies."
back at hq he's never seen far from you. when you enter a room he's coming in a few seconds later, and when you leave it he's right behind you. he does it unconsciously, his body moving on its own to follow you as if being pulled by an invisible magnet.
he's left in the middle of many conversations when he'd caught sight of you, leaving the other participant slack jawed and highly irritated. his most grievous offense had been when he'd saw you out of the corner of his eye during a very, very important meeting.
"the hellguard is currently en route with orders to arrest - any clue why?" corvus gives bro a flat look, and he rubs a hand down his goatee, pretending to think about the reason.
"nah. none."
"one of their officers was assaulted by a cleaner."
"that's awful. who would do that?"
"they were sucker punched."
"sucker punched my ass. i hit him head on and he knows it—ah, shit." bro sheepishly scratches the back of his neck. "look, corvus, it was for a good reason."
"hitting a hellguard officer because they stopped you in the street is not a good reason."
"he made me late for my date! have you seen my wife's face when i'm late for date night? she doesn't cry or anything but you can see it in her eyes - it's heart breaking, and it was that fucker's fault."
"well, that fucker is currently holding a warrant for..." corvus blinks once and bro is gone, and he quickly stands up from his seat and heads to the door, bewilderment on his face as to how the actual fuck he's just lost sight of someone that fast.
it all makes sense when he hears your familiar laugh. corvus has absolutely no idea how bro had known you were nearby -the door had been shut and there were no windows looking out- but he has since stopped using reason and logic to explain the effect you had on bro.
aforementioned man is hanging off of you, arms wrapped around your shoulders from behind and his teeth playfully biting at your ear and neck. oh how it sickens him. he contemplates letting the hellguard drag him away and keeping him in a cell for a few days so he can learn his lesson.
bro becomes physically unwell (by his declaration) when apart from you for too long, and tired of his antics, corvus had agreed to prioritize him on missions not too far from hq, but sometimes things came up and all hands were needed on deck.
"i'm dying. puta madre, my chest!"
"it's acid reflux. take a tum."
enjin throws a bottle at him from the driver's seat, the car swerving as a result, and gris grips the middle console hard enough to crack the plastic.
bro is sprawled in the back, drenched in sweat and heaving like he's been shot, and zanka has made it his mission to stare straight ahead and ignore the clown. giving him attention will only reinforce the bad behavior. ignore it and—
"he's dying, guys!"
"fuck, rudo! he's fine!"
"no, i'm not! i'm fucking dying - call my wife. my collar got wrecked in the fight. rudo, use yours."
"rudo, do not call his wife." zanka, gris and enjin say in unison.
rudo's eyes bug as his gaze darts between the three of them, and then down to bro who genuinely looks like he's about to croak. rudo twitches.
"rudo." zanka gives him a look scary enough to make his bladder feel uncomfortably full. "do not, under any circumstances, call that man's wife. he is fine." bro chooses then to let out a gut wrenching scream. "he's not going to die."
bro heaves and hacks and coughs and grabs at his chest.
rudo connects with you and there's three resounding groans in the car, but he knows he's done the right thing. he's potentially granted a dying man's last wish. he's kinda like a hero...
"mami!" bro grins, his previously near lifeless eyes filling up with light, and he sits up in his seat and runs a hand through his hair, his previous life ending pain nowhere to be seen in his face. "oh, you tried to ring me? yeah it got smashed when I went flying. am i okay? not at all - i've got a case of i-miss-my-girl-so-much-i-could-die and it's fatal. life expectancy of 2 days max."
three sets of eyes glare rudo down, and he sucks his lips into his mouth as he slides down into his seat.
"wanna know what the cure is?" bro snickers, and zanka reaches over to press his hands over rudo's ears, blocking out whatever it is the man says next.
rudo is not a hero. rudo is apparently the villain. he will learn from this.
bro has managed to piss everyone off with his obnoxiousness when it comes to you, and he doesn't give one bit of a damn.
THE HUSBAND OF THE YEAR™!!! Caring, attentive, supportive, and honestly, everything you'd want in a spouse, he has it all
A worry-rat—his eyes are always trailing to your surrounding, assessing whether something (or someone) might pose as a threat against you
"There's no need to go all bodyguard on me, y'know."
"Still, it wouldn't hurt to be cautious, right?"
Not big on PDA, but intimate touch is sacred to him. When you're around others, his arm naturally snakes around his waist, resting just above your hip bone, a quiet I'm here meant for you
Lets you repair minor damages on Cloth, heart-warming whenever he watches how gentle you handle his jinki—treating it as an extension of himself, rather than just an object
"Are you... stitching a flower?"
"Mhmm. Do you not like it?"
"I love it, darling. Thank you."
Loves watching you interact with Dear Santa. There's evident softness in his gaze when he watches you crouch down to your step-son, speaking gently and trying to coax a smile or laughter out of him. He'll pretend that he didn't hear Dear chuckle when the kid sent a glare
"C'mon, Dear. Can you give us a big smile?"
"On your daily 'Let me try to make our son smile' time?"
"You betcha! Our boy needs to exercise his cute cheeks!"
"Oh! He's actually smiling—Nope, never mind."
He yearns to have a big family. It didn't even have to be biological children; he's satisfied with Team Child and the rest of the Cleaner kids. He wants to build something lasting with you—a life where you two could grow old together and watch your children live out their own lives
Speaking of Team Child, they absolutely adore you. Most of the time, they prefer to listen to your instructions rather than his—the team leader. One time, they just stared at him with bored eyes when he relayed their mission, and only reacted when you repeated his speech word-for-word
"...That was literally what I just said."
"I guess they just like me better, honey."
"Ain't fair at all."
When he gets stressed, he gets quieter and snappier than usual. He won't lash out at you (he'd rather die than do that), but his words would have a slight edge to them. He's quick to apologise, though, pulling you into his chest and inhaling your grounding scent
He'd memorised every tone and mannerism you have. The difference between your casual voice and your don't test me, boy voice is crystal clear to him. One glance in his direction, one word said a little too flatly, and he already knows: Ah, I've messed up
Quick to make things right with you. A soft apology always comes first, followed by an explanation and genuine actions.
"'m sorry, darling... Just been stressed lately. I'll do better, I promise."
"I know you will, honey. It's alright. I forgive you."
Your shared room is filled with mementoes. Little things you've given him when you two were still dating? Taped on the wall. Photographs others had taken of you two? Framed and mounted on the desk. Every inch of your room was just a walk from the past
You'd usually fall asleep first most nights. He likes to stay awake a little longer, arm around your stomach as he listens to your breathing
Sometimes, when he catches you doing something mundane—folding clothes, feeding Dear Santa, or just fixing your appearance—his eyes sting. He still couldn't believe that he's allowed this kind of happiness on a trash-filled world
"I'm so lucky to have you, [Name]. Wouldn't trade you for anything... I love you to eternity and back."
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