#Dad and his two kids... and uncle

[tapakah0]

Part 10!

…there’s….there’s some very showy scenes coming up…can you tell ahahah

Part 1

[mirensiart]

Shulk going dad joke mode at the tender age of 18.... dude had a huge arsenal of them ready when Nikol was born i can tell

Reyn laughing at Shulk's pun is also so funny, Nikol didn't stand a chance, that kid was born surrounded by constant puns lmao

[m4gp13]

there's this one post-war ethabaster divorce au that I've been rotating in my brain for genuine years

Basically, Percy vouched for Ethan after the Battle of Manhattan so the gods decided to let him more or less off the hook. He gets to live in relative peace but every now and then he gets called up by one of the camps or by a deity to go deal with some issue. He's basically a contractor but the job he gets contracted for is killing monsters and solving god issues.

Alabaster, on the other hand, still got exiled and he has been a very busy boy. He's sort of like Silco but with slightly less domestic terrorism and drug trafficking. He reconnected with a lot of the surviving demigods and monsters from the TA, took advantage of the power vacuum left by the Triumvirate, and is pretty much in charge of the new titan army, albeit much smaller and less active. They try to keep their heads down to avoid catching the ire of the gods and just play it as them being rogues working together for their own survival, and the gods leave them to it mostly to maintain their agreement with Hecate.

The actual logistics of what Ethan and Al do in this au don't really matter that much because it's just a backdrop for the main event. See, during Ethan's questing he became aware of a group of demigods (who at the time didn't know they were demigods) in foster care and at first he was content to leave it at that but then he couldn't make himself stop thinking about it. He knows how hard it is to be a demigod on your own like that. The oldest of the kids is 15 and the youngest is nine. He had a horrible childhood and he has the ability to prevent these kids from having the same experiences he did so . . . he becomes a foster (and eventual adoptive) dad. He doesn't tell the kids that they're demigods until he has to because he wants them to have as normal a life as possible, even when almost everyone around him disagrees with how he's raising the kids. He's a bit of an awkward dad, especially at first, but he really wants these kids to have a decent life and it comes across. He knows what teenagers are like and he doesn't want to force a relationship so he gives them their space but he's always caring for them in little ways like making sure there's a home-cooked meal waiting for them when they get back from school or picking up extra jobs for the gods so that he can get them cool new shoes or send them on a fun field trip. Ethan staying up until the middle of the night sorting out bills and permission slips at the kitchen table, gently ushering the kids back to bed if they wake up. Ethan being a weary but happy domestic single dad is the fuel that powers this au I cannot stress enough how Dad(tm) Ethan is in this au. He probably has reading glasses or something.

The main conflict comes from Al, who needs demigods to recruit to his cause, which Ethan is staunchly against. The positions they take are Al being of the mindset that demigods being child soldiers is normal. It's how they grew up so he doesn't see any reason why the next generation shouldn't grow up like that as well. Ethan doesn't want the next generation to grow up like that because it's how he grew up. He's not going to let his children become soldiers and be used for another divine war in which they're ultimately just going to be fodder.

Also there is the slight comedic aspect of Ethabaster basically having a custody battle of these three random ass demigods. Alabaster gets thrown for a loop when Ethan refers to the demigods living in his apartment as his kids. Also the kids see Ethan as the pretty young, slightly awkward guy who took them in and has some boring job and is friends with the hot baker who lives around the block. So imagine their surprise when Alabaster "the C stands for Cunt" Torrington and his cool criminal underworld that keeps trying to kidnap them and tempt them to the dark side is revealed to be Ethan's annoying ex-bf who keeps trying to call him up. like, "hey dad, why is that man with the glowing eyes and the mob cult who keeps trying to kill and/or kidnap us calling you in the middle of the night to ask you if you miss him?" "Why don't we stop talking for a while?"

[steamedlotusroot]

swk and macaque being mk’s father figures is such a cute headcanon but i like seeing shadowpeach as mk’s dysfunctional uncles instead. uncles who are HORRIBLE influences and cannot get their shit together but still love you a lot and would die for you!!!

[tommygotwrittenoff]

the fact that eddie and maddie have never interacted outside a group setting is so funny actually. you cannot tell me those two wouldnt get on like a house on fire. i fear the day we get a solo maddie and eddie scene is the day we get buddie canon

[veone]

weed vs coke

[fullscoreshenanigans]

Norman ratri fuckery or maybe Norman in lambda scenario if im understanding this right!

For an AU with greater canon divergence, I like tinkering with the idea of Peter being more hands on in interacting with Norman to better contrast with Emma and Ray getting Lucas and Yuugo for father figures.

22194 has been a child of interest since he scored a perfect 300 on his first test at age four. Potentially even earlier than that, if, like Ray, the demons kept track of his pedigree and his mother was also a full scorer. Regardless of exactly when it started, he continues to capture the attention of researchers and the demon nobility alike, so by the time Legravalima gives approval for him to be sent to Lambda so she can avoid handing him over to the demon god, Peter was already aware of his general existence.

He's thrown for a loop when he meets him in person though. The only potential photographs he would have of Norman would be from when he was an infant at headquarters. His incredibly light/white hair on its own wouldn't have been enough to give him much pause, but now that his features have had more time to develop, Peter's a bit startled at the Ratri ones he can pick out.

(@bon-nii's comparison of James and Norman from chapters 173, 152, 126, and 154)

(Chapter 74)

There's a bit of vanity in him saying he's too young to be Norman's father (never mind he was eighteen when Norman was born), but combined with the boy's looks, the phrase sits at the back of his mind, nudging him until he can't ignore his curiosity any longer. He looks into the genealogy records at Grace Field headquarters until he can't find any recording of a sperm donor, which isn't more than a few generations back. Odd, given that Grace Field is the top premium farm, but sometimes such documentation snuck through the cracks, and it wasn't unheard of for the occasional scientist to consort with the Sister candidates prior to the refinement of artificial insemination.

It's one of Norman's blood samples that confirms someone from the family—either from the main one or the branch Andrew's from—fathered a daughter with a Sister, and that daughter went on to have a daughter who then bore a son.

Pulling this bit from an earlier post:

…I still have trouble wrapping my head around the idea of Peter knowingly and willingly [putting a Ratri child in the farm system] on the basis of viewing them as an extension of the clan rather than as individuals, so it’s almost like it’s a worse reflection on him not being able to restore the honor of this wayward branch of it by “salvaging” the traitor’s children and raising them “correctly.” He places such great value in being a Ratri and displays such disdain when speaking of the cattle children as food, it’s hard to see him sullying the line in any way by condemning a member to the fate of the latter as opposed to just outright killing them, even if said member was an infant. That’s still Ratri blood—his blood—that would be going into the farm system, and he would never let anyone as lowly as food have any sort of claim to such a noble and prestigious status. […] However, I’m more inclined to entertain the idea of another family member taking advantage of their position as a Ratri to have a dalliance with a Sister candidate, as @officersnickers brings up in this post. It’s not something Peter would ever approve of, but what’s done is done, and importantly there was no explicit denouncement of the clan in this act, which I feel he would take personal offense to. There’s nothing he can do to save these children—the one-drop rule thoroughly entrenched in his mind, and their blood is thoroughly tainted—but maybe their Ratri lineage will win out and they’ll be able to rise above their pitiful status, so he does keep tabs on both as he approves of them being sent on their separate ways in the system.

This is where one has to make the concession that Peter cares more about having an heir and/or believing a child's Ratri heritage trumps their fate of being born into the farm system. Shirai never confirms if he has a partner, but regardless, no mention is made of biological children of his own or if he knows of any potential ones on the way.

And maybe that's getting to him as the thirty-sixth head of the Ratri clan who's going to turn thirty next year, along with this boy looking so much like James. He knew his brother had no children, and despite his traitorous ways knew he'd never father one with a Sister for a variety of reasons. Yet here is this distant relative whose genes were still so prominent even after being diluted with multiple generations of cattle blood (him being vain enough to include Norman's intelligence as being another gift of Ratri inheritance). He decides to take it as a sign and as a duty to reclaim and "salvage" this wayward line of the clan.

Norman knows something's off when he doesn't receive all of the drugs he normally does for the day. Everything else proceeds as routine until dinner, when he's escorted not by scientists or demons, but men dressed in suits to an area of Lambda he's never been to before. They arrive in a lavishly decorated room with Peter seated at a relatively small but well-furnished dinner table. Norman's never seen so much food meant for one person, but as Peter invites him to have a seat, he realizes it's meant for two people.

There's some small talk regarding the spread, Peter's recommendations and whether Norman's favorite dish is there. By sheer coincidence there is some chickpeas and meat stew present, and while Norman is still wary of the entire situation, he doesn't refuse the bowl placed in front of him by the butler. It's the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. Peter makes sure to clarify one of his personal chefs made it.

This segues into a brief discussion about the daily tests Norman's been taking at Lambda. He confirms they're harder than the tests at Grace Field, but he enjoys the challenge, the tiniest bit of smug pride seeping in in the event Peter had any ego tied up in his being bested by one of these tests. The proud tone in the response throws him off before his brain registers the words "as to be expected of a Ratri." Peter then apologizes at the small but still noticeable change in his expression, lamenting how he probably should have started out with that to ease any of Norman's worries.

He goes on to explain how he discovered this, interpreting Norman's silence as positive before moving on to provide a brief overview of how the Ratri clan came to be the mediators between two worlds and then explaining how his life will change now that he'll be staying in the Ratri visitors' quarters for the remainder of his time at Lambda. The process to remove his tattoo and brand will begin the following day, and he'll be weened off the remaining drugs he's been given.

Norman knows it's beyond his consideration, but he still can't believe the gall of this man.

As for what [being a Ratri] would mean to Norman, he’s never indicated any sense of loss related to not knowing members of his immediate birth family or fretting over his origins, but for him to be related to the clan that’s perpetuated this system of abuse over a millennia and with how his rigid sense of morality lent itself to the idea of exterminating every single demon, if he was in a particularly negative thought spiral, it might eat at him on some bad days.

Where Peter expected rapturous or reverential awe at being a long-lost member of the clan, he felt sick. He never knew his birth mother or other forebearers, but imagining everything those women had to endure after seeing what it turned Isabella into, all being said so casually without a hint of guilt over the horrors his clan perpetuated like he's discussing the pedigree of a thoroughbred animal instead of a human being, it's nauseating.

And his neck tattoo…the Lambda brand he wouldn't give a second thought to losing, but the tattoo has this paradoxical sense of kinship attached to it that I briefly go over in this post regarding the children still keeping their tattoos years after being in the human world. Even with it being a horrible symbol of their dehumanization under this system, it's been a familiar sight to him since his earliest memories. It's one of the physical markers of his connection with Emma, Ray, and the rest of his family, and this man will be flippantly erasing that. How easy it is for him having never bore the grief that comes with it.

This is already long but a tangentially related conversation to this eventually comes up with Peter asking about Emma and Ray. On the surface it's to connect with Norman and learn more about his life at Grace Field, but the ulterior motive is to see if there's any information he can glean about these kids to find and capture them quicker. Norman will give it to him for having the tact not to slip and refer to them by their numbers like he's sure he wants to do, but he's still incensed at their names in his mouth. There's also the chance that Peter might reveal a crumb of information himself about their status (because Norman can't see why he would be asking unless he had something to gain from it, so that has to mean their escape was a success and they were all alive. The alternative would kill him), so he entertains the conversation. He tries not to give any tells, but when he talks about them his thumb might have grazed the spot where his number used to be before covering it up with a cough.

Norman's never taken in by Peter's seemingly genial demeanor, but it's odd how personal and almost…amiable the man can be with him. Still, the love he's offering is contingent on Norman's continued assistance at Lambda (Peter sees it as their shared duty to solve the conundrum of faster high quality meat production) and at least the appearance of respect toward the clan. It's not unconditional like Lucas' and Yuugo's.

The clearest hint of this might be Peter mentioning how much Norman resembles James one night at dinner, building his brother up with the same admiration he displays in chapter 173 before lamenting his fall from grace, stressing the sacrifice he had to make by murdering him but still ultimately going through with it because the clan and balance between two worlds takes precedence above all else.

Alternatively, another scenario that's easier to work into canon is the Ratri clan realizing Norman's lineage when the cattle children arrive in the human world, also prompted by the databases at Grace Field sparking further investigation with a DNA test. Once it's confirmed, they keep pestering Norman about leaning into this kinship and actively working for them, along with having his family and friends seemingly on good terms with the clan for some PR optics. Norman finds the idea insulting and revolting, but he can't ignore the benefits that would come with it.

Like some other fans, I greatly dislike Norman becoming a CEO during the final major timeskip, as well as Lambda sickness being conveniently treated with no chronic aftereffects and absolutely no issues with them integrating into human world and being welcomed with open arms by everyone. I understand Shirai wanted to wrap up the series on his own terms after years of dealing with the strain that is weekly manga publishing, and he needed an explanation for how the kids could easily fund their expeditions to search for Emma, but oof, do I hate it lol. All of these remain a concern for the cattle children here, and while the Ratri clan wouldn't outright abandon them if he refused, Norman wouldn't put it past them to drag their feet on certain matters. Their finances and prestige shield them from any misguided resentment some people may hold for them. Their connections are a boon for securing future educations and careers. And god would it expedite the search for Emma.

I like to imagine a late night benefit-cost analysis between Norman, Ray, Don, and Gilda taking place at some point after they've settled in enough. The other three reaffirm that if Norman felt it was going to kill his soul to work for the Ratris, his friends and family would stand by his refusal, but they would be remiss not to acknowledge the pragmatism in further solidifying the relationship (particularly poignant coming from Ray, though not completely analogous situations). The conversation drifts off for a bit before Norman, looking exhausted across the table they're seated at with his hands on his knees, states, "I want her back with us."

Working with the clan would be odd in so many ways with how they would laud his status as a cattle child and how he was taking the lead on amending relations between the Ratri and the cattle children while never wanting to fully interrogate what that meant. There's a hierarchy with Norman at the top and the mass production farm children at the bottom in many of their minds. At one point in private after a publicity event someone says offhand, "you can cover that up now, you know," referring to his ID. Even in the winter he tries to make a point not to wear scarves or turtlenecks when he knows he's going to be around them.

I hate the idea of there being one good and upstanding Ratri member that befriends him just because it's too convenient, and if we're being real Norman would never let down his walls enough and let them into his personal world after everything he's been through, but I do like the thought of him maybe getting along with a few scattered members, probably younger, who recognize the terrible fate that befell the children from another world and are genuinely amiable with him without beholding him to form a meaningful friendship with them. A small attempt at a personal level of atonement that he can recognize and appreciate while still maintaining that mental distance. I also think he'd appreciate the very youngest children of the family who could give him insight into what the adults might really think of him and his friends with their uncensored commentary lol.

[waitineedaname]

OKAY SO. i think in mdzs there's someone named wei wuxan(?) who died and came back and its like a political drama with a big cast and weird sibling dynamics in the sense that 'hey you died and came back. wtf.' but also the sibling isn't aware they died and just thinks hes drunk(???) or smth.. also there's poly gay people. and someone's dad really really REALLY sucks so he's made sure to be much better to his kid. i think they're nobility? dressed so nice

it is incredible how much you managed to get right dlksjflksdjf it's sad that I thought I knew which terrible dad you were referring to, and then I realized you meant an entirely different dad, oh god there are too many terrible dads. also "just thinks hes drunk(???)" is making me lose my mind lksdjflksdj god I wish

[theresa-of-liechtenstein]

i think something that me and several members of my dad’s side of the family have in common is that we all either unexpectedly or unwillingly became leaders (or at least seen as leaders) in our respective careers/professions/communities

[queenofbaws]

i do not know why but one of my fav gags to write is character A accusing character B of looking like a celebrity they only tangentially look like to get a reaction out of them (ie josh calling conrad justin timberlake), and as i'm messing around in my outline i get to an old note where i have jack call chris a "dave coulier looking motherfucker" and i do not know why that's what past me landed on but uh

now the desire to describe like wringing blood from a stone as an until dawn/the quarry/full house crossover has grasped me by the throat alkdsjfklsjf

worse, the desire to write like wringing blood from a stone as if it were an episode of full house is creeping in from the shadows

"now kids...what do we say when something like this happens?"

"what doesn't kill you makes you stronger..."

"that's right! now let's go have some ice cream!"

"we can't."

"what??? well why not?"

"uncle jack's been using the freezer to store body parts again :\"

"ahahahaha, oh geez. then how about cookies instead!!!"

[freakish-hazzard]

Some people just don't experience a lot of coincidences and some people have 4 cousins from 2 families who's birthdays are April 1st

[crossbackpoke-check]

i've been thinking a lot about the mojoe show, especially how i miss seeing them together and somehow, i stumbled on your blog and all your tags about them (joe in specific) speak directly to me!

no go on... what are the tags saying to you... come join the mojo(e) jojo hive mind...

[sunni-stuff]

Standing outside your apartment, Simon tightened his grip around the wooden toy train, the corners of the box digging slightly into his palm. His heart thrummed uncomfortably in his chest—a sensation far too foreign for someone who’d faced down worse odds than this. He was used to calculating risks, taking them head-on, but this? This wasn’t a battlefield; it was something infinitely more terrifying. He was meeting his daughter.

He cast a glance at the train in his hand, a sturdy, well-crafted toy he and Johnny had spent hours picking out earlier that day. The shopkeeper’s amused expression still lingered in his mind—two grown men scrutinizing toy trains as though the fate of the world rested on their choice. You hadn’t been specific, just a train, no frills, nothing cartoonish. And so Simon had chosen the simplest one, figuring it was better to err on the side of practicality.

Beside him, Johnny leaned casually against the wall, spinning a plastic-cased mermaid Barbie in his hands. The vibrant teal-and-pink packaging clashed starkly with the air of seriousness Simon carried.

Simon scowled, his gaze darting to the doll. “I told you, no dolls. She said no dolls.” His voice was low and rough, almost a growl, though it carried more nervous energy than actual anger.

Johnny raised an eyebrow, smirking as he turned the Barbie over in his hands. “What kid doesn’t like a Barbie? Eh? You’re overthinking this, big man.” His Scottish accent lent an irreverent edge to his words. “Besides, it’s just a backup. If she doesn’t like the train—which, let’s face it, is a bloody long shot—I’ve got something she’s bound to love.”

Simon shot him a sharp look. “It’s not about the toy,” he muttered, shifting his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “It’s about… makin’ an impression. Proper one.”

Johnny’s smirk softened, his usual teasing tone giving way to something closer to sincerity. “And you think that’s all ridin’ on a train? C’mon, mate, it’s you she’s meeting, not just some toy. Kids aren’t daft—they know when someone’s tryin’.” He tilted his head toward the toy in Simon’s hand. “But, for what it’s worth, that train’s not bad. Proper classic. No gimmicks.”

Simon grunted in response, his attention flicking back to the apartment door. It was a quiet, unassuming building, but the pressure of what lay beyond that door was immense. You were in there with her—Adira. His daughter. The thought still felt surreal, even after the days he’d spent turning it over in his mind. He’d seen her before, from a distance, but that was different. This was too personal in a way he wasn’t sure he was prepared for.

“I should’ve brought the others,” Simon muttered under his breath, more to himself than Johnny.

Johnny’s eyes twinkled with humor. “Aye, because showin’ up with the whole bloody team wouldn’t be overwhelming at all, eh? ‘Here’s yer dad, and here’s his army of uncles.’ Real subtle.”

Simon huffed a dry laugh despite himself, the tension in his shoulders loosening just a fraction. Johnny always had a knack for cutting through his nerves, even when Simon wasn’t in the mood for it.

The sound of footsteps on the other side of the door snapped Simon’s attention back to the moment. His pulse quickened as the lock turned, and the door creaked open to reveal you standing there, a mixture of caution and curiosity etched into your expression. You didn’t say anything right away, your gaze darting between Simon, Johnny, and the toys in their hands.

“Hi,” Simon managed, his voice quieter than he’d intended. He cleared his throat, adjusting his grip on the train. “Uh… thought I’d bring somethin’ she might like.”

You glanced at the train, then at Johnny’s Barbie, raising an eyebrow. “I see Johnny didn’t listen,” you comment dryly, though there was a hint of amusement in your tone.

Johnny grinned, unbothered. “Insurance, lass. Always good to have a backup plan.”

Stepping aside, you gestured for them to come in. “Well, let’s see how this goes. She’s in the living room.”

Simon felt the air grow heavier as he crossed the threshold, each step bringing him closer to something he’d been equal parts dreading and hoping for. The sound of quiet giggles and the rustle of toys came from the living room, and he stopped short in the hallway, his hand tightening instinctively around the train.

“You okay?” you asked curiously, your question laced with something he couldn’t quite place—concern? Reassurance?

He nodded stiffly, though he wasn’t entirely sure who he was convincing. “Yeah,” he said, masking his unease. This wasn’t the time to let emotions run wild, not when his daughter was just a few steps away. He needed to reel everything, keep composed.. “Just… takin’ a moment.”

Johnny clapped him on the shoulder, his grin unfaltering. “You’ve got this, mate. And if all else fails—” he held up the Barbie with a dramatic flourish—“I’ve got you covered.”

Simon rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at his lips. “Thanks for that,” he muttered dryly.

He took a grounding breath, then stepped into the living room. The sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks—Adira, sitting cross-legged on the floor, a miniature train set spread out before her. Her dark hair fell in delicate curls around her face, and her eyes, so startlingly like his own, lit up with delight as she guided a tiny train along the tracks.

The world seemed to narrow, every noise fading into the background except for the sound of her soft laughter. This was his daughter, and for the first time, he wasn’t just watching from afar—he was here.

Adira looked up, her curious gaze locking onto him. Simon’s heart leapt into his throat as she tilted her head, studying him with a mix of curiosity and caution. Before he could speak, Johnny stepped forward, a grin plastered across his face as he crouched beside her.

"Hey, bonnie lass," Johnny greeted, bringing in  warmth and cheerfulness. He held out the mermaid Barbie, its plastic casing shimmering in the soft light. “Look what I got for ye.”

Adira blinked at him, her small head tilting to the side in the same assessing way she’d done with Simon. Then, in a voice as sweet as it was blunt, she said, “Ugee.”

Simon held back a laugh, but Johnny froze, his grin faltering. Did she just call me ugly again? he thought, momentarily stunned before recovering with a sheepish laugh.

“Oh, come on, lass. That’s no way to treat yer Uncle Johnny,” he teased, though his pride was clearly bruised. He pushed the doll a little closer, his voice softening. “It’s for you. Look—she’s got a shiny tail and everything.”

Adira’s expression shifted, her curiosity piqued as she finally reached for the doll. Johnny’s face lit up with relief, and he turned to you and Simon with a victorious smirk. “Told ya,” he mouthed, his tone smug.

Simon raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, while you merely crossed your arms, waiting for what you knew was coming.

The sound of plastic ripping shattered Johnny’s moment of triumph. His head whipped around just in time to see Adira pull the doll free from its packaging with surprising efficiency. She studied it for a moment, her tiny fingers gripping the head and the body. And then—pop—the doll’s head came clean off.

Johnny’s jaw dropped as he watched Adira inspect the decapitated doll with silent satisfaction. She set the head down beside her, then held up the now-headless body, apparently contemplating her next move.

Simon let out a chuckle, unable to hide his amusement as Johnny gawked at the scene, his earlier smugness entirely gone. “Well,” Simon drawled, unable to hide his dry humor. “Guess she wasn’t a fan after all.”

Johnny turned back to you and Simon, his expression caught between disbelief and betrayal. “What… what kind of kid just does that?!” he demanded, gesturing wildly at the scene behind him.

You shrugged, biting back a laugh. “I warned you about the dolls.”

Johnny shook his head, still reeling as he muttered under his breath, “She’s Sid from Toy Story incarnate, I swear.”

Adira, seemingly unbothered by the fuss, returned her focus to her trains, contentedly adding the doll’s head to a makeshift pile of "cargo." Johnny looked ready to protest further, but Simon stepped forward, crouching to her level and holding out the wooden train.

“Hi,” he spoke softly, his voice steady despite the lingering laughter in his chest. “I brought you somethin’. Thought you might like it.”

Adira didn’t respond right away, her eyes bouncing between him and the toy. Then, slowly, she reached out, her small fingers brushing against the train before taking it from his hands. Unlike the Barbie, she carefully opened the box, her movements deliberate and methodical. She removed the wooden train gently, inspecting it for a moment. Without a word, she added it to the tracks, her attention already back on her play as if nothing else in the world mattered.

Simon stayed crouched, watching her intently. A flicker of relief crossed his face at her acceptance of the gift. The room, heavy with unspoken tension just moments before, now felt lighter, though Simon could feel the enormity of the moment pressing against his chest.

You appeared at his side, crouching slightly to meet his eye, a small grin on your lips. “That’s a good sign,” you murmured, keeping your voice low. “She doesn’t usually let people touch her trains.”

Simon exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His gaze flickered back to Adira, watching as she carefully positioned the new train car alongside the others, her focus unwavering. It wasn’t much—just a small gesture—but it felt monumental. A start.

“She’s got good taste,” Simon adds, a touch of pride in his tongue as he nodded toward the tracks. “Knows quality when she sees it.”

You chuckled, the sound easing the edges of Simon’s nerves. “It’s not just that,” you replied, your eyes lightening as you watched Adira. “Trains are her world. If she’s letting you into it, even a little…” You trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

Simon nodded, his throat tightening with a mix of emotions he wasn’t used to confronting. For a moment, he allowed himself to simply watch her, the curve of her cheek, the determined set of her brow as she pushed the train forward, creating a soft click-clack noise against the wooden tracks. He thought of all the moments he’d missed, all the firsts that had come and gone without him. But now, sitting there on the floor of your apartment, watching his little girl play, he felt something unfamiliar: hope.

“It’s a start,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. And for now, that was enough.

Johnny hung back near the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the tender scene unfold. Simon, a man he’d always seen as unshakable and stoic, was crouched beside Adira, his usually guarded expression diminished by a rare, genuine grin. Johnny didn’t dare interrupt—this wasn’t his moment. He was just a spectator, standing on the sidelines as a long-standing divide finally began to close.

The warmth in the room tugged at Johnny’s own heart, and though he wasn’t one for sentimentality, the sight was too good to pass up. Without a word, he slipped his phone from his pocket, angling it just right to snap a quick picture. Simon’s grin, lopsided and proud, was illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp, his large frame almost comically dwarfed by the tiny train set and the little girl at its center.

Satisfied with the shot, Johnny smirked to himself as he typed out a caption: “Big man, small trains. Heart officially melted. ” He hit send, the photo shooting off to the group chat where the lads were bound to have a field day with it.

Moments later, his phone buzzed with a flurry of responses:

Roach: “Never thought I’d see Ghost look so human.”

Gaz: “He’s got the ‘Dad Look’ down already. Almost feel bad making fun of him.”

Price: “I don’t. Send more pics.”

Stifling a snicker, Johnny shoved his phone back into his pocket. He glanced back at Simon, who was completely absorbed in Adira’s world, watching as she pushed the new train along the tracks with the utmost concentration. The sheer joy and focus on her face seemed to draw Simon further into her orbit, as if nothing else existed but the tiny, clacking train set.

Johnny shook his head fondly. Big, scary Ghost, he thought, brought to his knees by a wee lass and a wooden train. It was a sight he’d never forget.

Johnny slipped out of the apartment with a quiet click of the door, leaving the two of you in a silence that felt both comfortable and weighty. His absence left the air clearer, yet filled with the unspoken. As Adira remained engrossed in her trains, her murmurs creating a gentle rhythm in the background, you found your mind racing with a single, unrelenting question:

What now?

Giving her toys was one thing. Simon showing up, physically present, was a start. But the path ahead of you wasn’t so simple. Building a connection took more than gifts and fleeting moments. Adira was too young to truly grasp the gravity of this shift in her world. Telling her outright that Simon was her father didn’t feel right—not now. That conversation would be better left for a day when she could fully understand it.

You rose from your position near him, brushing off your knees as you took a real long look at her. There it was, in her little mannerisms, her sharp focus, the way her brow furrowed just slightly as she concentrated—it was him. So much of him. And the way Simon’s gaze relaxed as he watched her? You could see it, plain as day. He wanted to be there for her.

And you wanted her to be happy.

The realization hit you with clarity: the best way to make this transition smooth was to let Simon find his place naturally. He couldn’t make up for all the firsts he’d missed, but there was still time for so many more moments.

“So…” you began, your voice quiet but heavy, the word hanging between you like an unspoken question. You turned to face Simon, watching him carefully as he sat cross-legged on the floor, his broad frame surprisingly small in this intimate space. He was still holding that wooden train, his fingers gently brushing over the smooth surface like it was something sacred.

Simon looked up at you, his eyes catching yours, and he shifted slightly, his posture relaxed, but there was something else—something vulnerable yet determined. "So," he echoed, his voice unshakable, though you could hear the undertone of apprehension, a slight tremor of uncertainty beneath his calm façade. He wanted to be open, to show you he was ready for whatever was coming next, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what that was.

You crossed your arms, not out of defiance but out of the need to ground yourself. It was a physical gesture, a way to hold yourself steady in the face of everything that had led to this moment. “This isn’t going to be easy,” you said, the words a simple statement, but they carried meaning.

“I didn’t expect it to be,” Simon replied, his voice firm, the same way it would sound in the midst of a mission, when the stakes were high. The seriousness in his tone wasn’t lost on you. But there was more than just the soldier in him now—there was a father. "But I’m here. I want to try. For her." His eyes darted to Adira, his gaze lingering on her as she lined up her train set with careful precision. It was a look filled with fierce, almost protective determination, and it tugged at your chest.

“For her,” you agreed, your heart swelling with the truth of it. “She deserves that. But it’s not just about showing up with toys. It’s about showing up for her. Being there when she needs you, even if it’s hard. Even if she pushes you away at first.”

Simon’s jaw tightened as you spoke, and you saw the muscles in his neck flex, as though he was fighting against something—maybe the grandness of what this all meant, maybe his own doubts. “I can do that,” he said after a pause, his voice low but resolute. “I will.”

“You’ll have to.” Your tone tender, but you still held that edge of playful taunting. It was your way of testing the waters, of gauging if he was truly prepared for what this would take. “She’s stubborn. Wonder where she gets that from.”

Simon huffed a quiet laugh, and a faint smirk forming on his mouth. For a brief moment, the walls he’d built around himself seemed to weaken, just a little. “Aye, can’t imagine,” he replied, the humor easing some of the tension in the room.

There was a pause, the room settling into a calm that hadn’t been there before. You watched as Simon glanced back at Adira, his eyes lingering on her as she placed another train down, her little brow furrowed in concentration. The sight was almost too much for him—this was his flesh and blood, sitting right there in front of him, in this quiet, domestic world he hadn’t been a part of.

“First things first—likes and dislikes.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, but you didn’t wait for him to respond. You turned on your heel and slipped into the kitchen, the quiet tension that had settled between you both diminishing. Simon, sitting cross-legged on the floor near Adira, was still absorbing the weight of everything unfolding. His gaze followed you as you disappeared into the next room, the brief silence stretching between the two of you.

When you returned, you were holding a file—nothing flashy, just a plain folder. You approached him and handed it over, watching as he hesitated, the weight of the paper in his hands heavier than it appeared.

The sight inside that greeted him threw him off guard—pages upon pages of meticulously written details. At first glance, it looked like a detailed report, every section filled with information about Adira’s daily routine, preferences, and even the smallest of habits. Her favorite snacks, the way she liked her sandwiches cut in triangles. Each page was packed with specifics: her reactions to certain foods, her favorite colors, how she responded to certain sounds and even what she liked to do on rainy days—took him completely off guard.

Simon blinked at it, flipping through the pages as if trying to find a sense of grounding in the flood of information. It was overwhelming, but what struck him the most was how thorough it was—how much you had put into it. Everything about her, everything you alone learned over the years, all laid out for him to see.

The file was thick, packed with details. The more he flipped through, the more surprised he became. Notes jotted in neat handwriting with labeled sections.There wasn’t just filled with cold, clinical notes. It also contained moments of tenderness, small anecdotes about how Adira reacted to certain situations or things that made her smile. You had carefully noted the songs she liked to sing along with, how she would curl up on the couch when she was feeling down, the exact way she liked her bedtime story read.

Simon looked up at you, his expression one of confusion and curiosity. “What is all this?” he asked quietly, his voice tinged with surprise.

You offered him a faint smile, though there was no real humor in it. “Before you think I’m crazy or paranoid,” you began, raising your hands slightly in defense, “I work at the daycare around the corner, and Adira comes with me. It’s policy to keep these records—just in case. You know, since some kids have allergies, or there are specific things we need to be aware of.”

He nodded, still flipping through the file, as if seeing this list of Adira’s little quirks and habits for the first time made her seem more real. More like a child who had to be cared for, understood, and loved in ways that went far beyond simply showing up with a toy.

“I didn’t know you’d been keeping track of all of this,” A look of genuine surprise crossed his face. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know you’d been doing so much.”

You shrugged slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “It’s nothing. Just making sure she’s okay.” There was an edge of vulnerability to your words, as if you were downplaying the emotional weight of it all.

Simon’s fingers lingered on the pages, his gaze skimming the words as if trying to understand the depth of the commitment you had for Adira. It wasn’t just about her well-being, it was about every little thing that made her, her.

“You really do know everything about her, don’t you?” he said, his voice tinged with awe.

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you at his reaction. It wasn’t about control or being overprotective—it was about ensuring that every part of Adira’s world was in order, even when you weren’t looking.

“I know what she likes, what she dislikes. I know how she reacts when she’s tired or overstimulated. I know what makes her laugh and what makes her cry. It’s not about keeping tabs, it’s about making sure she feels safe. Especially with everything changing right now.”

Simon absorbed your words quietly, the weight of the file heavy in his hands. The realization hit him like a punch in the gut. You had been doing this alone for so long—carrying the weight of all these little details, managing the complexity of motherhood without the support he should’ve been offering.

“She’s lucky,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “You’ve done more than I can even imagine.”

You didn’t say anything at first. The simplicity of his words caught you off guard, making you feel a bit exposed. “It’s just what you do for them,” you replied, your voice softer now, more vulnerable. “You do what you can to make sure they’re okay.”

Simon closed the file slowly, processing what it meant. He felt a surge of something—guilt, maybe, or a quiet ache—as he realized just how much he’d missed. He’d been absent for so many of the small, seemingly insignificant moments that made up Adira’s life. And now, looking at the file, he could feel the weight of his absence more than ever.

“I want to know it all,” Simon said quietly, his voice full of resolve. “Every little thing. I don’t care how small it seems. I want to learn everything about her.”

Your heart skipped at his words, and for the first time, you felt a sense of stability knowing he’d be around to lift some of the hardship off your shoulders. For once, it wouldn’t just be you anymore.

“Good,” Your voice filled with quiet approval. “Because it’s going to take time. And you’ll need to be patient.”

“I can do that,” he replied, his jaw set with determination. “I’m not going anywhere.”

By 6 AM sharp, there he was—a solid, familiar figure standing at your door with his sleeves rolled up and a faint, hesitant smile. He never asked if you needed help; he simply showed up, ready to lend a hand. Simon didn’t just want to be in your life—he wanted to belong in it. Every visit to your apartment wasn’t just about showing up; it was about figuring out how to bridge the gap between her world and his. You had been Adira's anchor, her everything. Simon understood that, respected it, but he was intent on creating his own place in her little universe—one small gesture at a time.

At first, his kitchen skills left a lot to be desired. You insisted you could handle breakfast on your own, but Simon waved you off, determined to prove himself. Adira sat in her highchair, small fingers clutching a slice of strawberry as she watched her father with wide, curious eyes. He wrestled with the stovetop like it was an enemy combatant, flipping pancakes that somehow always ended up sticking or splattering in every direction. A particularly ambitious flip sent batter flying, splattering across his shirt and the counter.

Adira paused mid-chew, her sharp little eyes zeroing in on the mess. "Messy man," she mumbled around the strawberry, her tone matter-of-fact but laced with childish amusement.

Simon froze, mid-swipe with a paper towel, and glanced at her, eyebrows shooting up. “What’d you call me?”

"Messy man," she repeated, a little more confidently this time, giggling as she pointed at the batter streaked across his chest.

You couldn’t help but laugh as Simon groaned, shaking his head with mock exasperation. “I’ll remember that,” he muttered, though there was no hiding the faint smile that tugged at his lips.

Despite the mishaps, he never gave up. Day by day, the kitchen disasters became fewer. He learned that Adira liked her pancakes shaped like stars if you had the time and that a dollop of whipped cream on top made her clap her hands with delight. He discovered she preferred her strawberries sliced thin, not chunky, and that she hated the crusts on toast but loved when it was cut into neat little triangles.

More importantly, while you were around, Adira began to interact with him in ways you hadn’t expected. She would babble at him as he cooked, her little hands waving animatedly as though she was offering advice. He listened as if she were telling him the most important secrets in the world, nodding solemnly and responding in his deep, rumbling voice.

One morning, as he handed her a plate with her favorite star-shaped pancakes, she looked up at him with a toothy smile, “Thank you, messy man.”

Simon froze, his grip tightening on the plate for just a second before he crouched down to her level. “You’re welcome, love,” The endearing nickname left his lips with ease, carrying an edge of something raw and tender.

You stood in the doorway, watching the scene unfold with a lump in your throat. This wasn’t just about breakfast. It was about Simon trying—every single day—to show her that he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere. It was clumsy and imperfect, but it was real. And you couldn’t help but feel the faint stirrings of something like hope, watching the way Adira’s small world seemed to expand to make room for him.

After some time of this new, unspoken pattern settling in—one that felt like a quiet, gradual understanding—Adira seemed to begin warming up to Simon. It wasn’t as deep or instantaneous as it had been with you, but it was enough. Enough for her to sit at the table, nibbling on the pancakes he’d made. Enough to sit near him and listen to his voice without the immediate urge to run to you. And, perhaps most telling, enough for her to offer him a strawberry one morning before daycare.

Still, there were unspoken boundaries. She wouldn’t let him touch her trains, a sacred realm of hers he dared not trespass. And after a while of him being nearby, she’d often wander back to you, clutching at your leg or climbing into your lap, needing the reassurance of your proximity. 

You saw it in Simon’s eyes sometimes, the flicker of hurt that he quickly masked, brushing it off like it didn’t matter. But it did. You could tell. Adira was studying him from the safety of her bubble, keeping her distance as if trying to figure him out. You couldn’t blame her. Adira had lived her life with you as the constant; Simon was a new element in her world, one she wasn’t sure how to integrate yet.

But you couldn’t help but wonder: Did she need just a little nudge? A chance to have a moment with him—just the two of them—without you hovering nearby to catch her if she fell?

That opportunity came one morning when the daycare announced they would be closing down the toddler classrooms for renovations. Since Adira’s classroom was off-limits, she couldn’t come with you, leaving a gap in her schedule for at least a day or two. It was the perfect chance for Simon to step in and watch her alone, just the two of them.

That morning, Simon arrived as usual, but the atmosphere was different. You were already dressed for work, and Adira sat on the couch, her little frame wrapped in her favorite onesie—a fuzzy lavender number with tiny clouds on the sleeves. Her attention was fixed on the cartoon playing on the screen, her pillow hugged tightly to her chest.

You had considered this moment for a while, weighing the risks and the benefits. You knew how much it would mean to Simon if Adira let him in just a little bit more. But it was still a leap. You couldn’t help but feel the protective instinct rising in you, a sharp edge of caution in your chest. If anything went wrong, if Adira seemed uncomfortable or the situation felt off, you’d be home in a heartbeat. It was your job to protect her, to put her needs above all else—even Simon’s. As much as he was trying, as much as he cared, she was still your child, and her safety and happiness mattered most.

Simon raised an eyebrow as he noticed your state of dress and Adira’s lounging figure. “So, it’s just me and her today?”

You nodded, grabbing your keys. “her classroom is closed for renovations. Figured this would be a good chance for you two to spend some time together.”

He didn’t respond right away, instead Simon seemed to take everything in stride, breathing in deeply, knowing his moment was now.

You couldn’t help but study him for a moment longer, as if reading him for any sign that he was second-guessing himself. But then he smiled at you, it was genuine—reassuring. You had to trust him. You had to let him try.

Walking over to Adira, you knelt beside her, smoothing her hair as you spoke. “Sweetheart, you’re gonna hang out with Simon today, okay? I’ll be back soon.” 

Adira’s brows furrowed, her lips pressing into a tiny pout. “You go?”

“Just for a little while,” you reassured her. “Simon’s going to stay with you, and you’ll have lots of fun. Won’t you?”

Adira looked up at you with those wide, dark eyes, not fully understanding the implications, but offering you a small, shy nod. She then returned her attention to the TV, her little fingers absentmindedly squeezing the fabric of her pillow.

“She’s had her bath, so no worries there,” you swiftly explained, slipping into your role as her mother. “She’s in her onesie because it’s raining today, and for some reason, she loves wearing it on rainy days—I don't understand it but as long as she's happy. There’s food in the fridge, but after a couple of hours, I’d suggest cutting the TV off. Let her color, read, or maybe play with her trains. It gives her eyes a break from the screen. Oh, and rainy days mean pizza. Her favorite place is ‘Mario’s,’ and the number’s on the fridge. She’ll ask for the stuffed crust and extra cheese, light on the sauce.”

Simon absorbed the instructions like a soldier receiving a mission briefing, nodding along as you spoke. His eyes flicked to Adira, who was now idly kicking her feet as she watched the TV, and then back to you. “Got it. Anything else?”

You hesitated for a moment, then let it subside. “Just… be patient with her. She’s still figuring this out. You’re doing great, Simon.”

His lips twitched into a small, almost shy smile. “Thanks.”

You gave him one last glance, scanning for any signs of hesitation or doubt, but his steady demeanor gave you confidence. With a final goodbye to Adira, who waved absently, you headed for the door. With that, you left, the door clicking shut behind you. Your chest felt tight, your every nerve on edge as you walked to work. This was Simon’s test, sure, but it was yours too—trusting someone else with the most precious thing in your life. Only time would tell how it would go.

The door clicked shut behind you, leaving Simon standing awkwardly in the quiet apartment. Adira stayed exactly where she was, her little form cocooned on the couch, eyes glued to the animated animals bouncing across the TV screen. Simon exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck as he took in the moment. This was it. His chance.

He crossed the room and sat down next to her, careful not to invade her space. For a moment, the silence stretched between them, thick and uncertain. Adira didn’t so much as glance his way, her focus unwavering as the characters on the screen launched into a cheerful song.

Simon cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the air like an awkward ripple. "So, uh," he started, his voice low and unsure, "you like it when it rains?"

Adira finally looked up at him, her big, curious eyes meeting his. She blinked a couple of times, processing his question, before giving a small, shy nod.

"Yeah?" he pressed, a soft smile creeping onto his face. "What’s your favorite thing about it? The sound? Jumping in puddles?"

Her lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she shifted on the couch, pulling her pillow closer as if using it as a shield. Simon waited, giving her time, not wanting to push. Then, as if finding the courage, she mumbled, “The sound.”

“The sound, huh? Me too,��� he said, leaning back a bit to ease the tension. “Kinda peaceful, isn’t it? Makes everything... quiet.”

Adira nodded again, this time a little more confidently. Her tiny fingers started to drum on the pillow in her lap, the rhythm mimicking the pitter-patter of raindrops. Simon caught it and grinned.

“You know,” he said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “I used to watch the rain all the time when I was little. Sometimes I’d sit by the window for hours, just listening. My mum always said I’d get stuck there.”

Adira tilted her head at him, her curiosity evident now. “Why?” she asked, her voice soft and a little unsure, as though she wasn’t entirely ready to start talking freely.

Simon chuckled, scratching his chin. “Dunno. Maybe I thought if I stayed there long enough, I’d see something special, like... I dunno, maybe the rain would make magic happen.”

Her eyes widened slightly at the word magic, and Simon felt a small victory bloom in his chest.

“Magic?” she echoed, her tone a mix of skepticism and interest.

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, leaning in just a little, like he was about to share a secret. “The kind that only shows up when you’re really, really patient. You gotta look close, though.”

Adira’s gaze darted back to the TV for a moment before returning to him, her guard lowering inch by inch. She hugged her pillow tighter but didn’t turn away.

“Maybe,” she murmured, almost too quietly for him to hear, “maybe I’ll see magic too.”

Simon’s chest tightened, a warmth spreading there that he hadn’t felt in years. For the first time, he wasn’t just a stranger in her world; he was someone she was starting to let in.

“Maybe you will,” he said softly, leaning back into the couch. He let the quiet fill the space again, content to sit beside her, waiting for the rain—or the magic—to come.

After a few minutes, Adira reached over to the side table where her sippy cup rested. She grabbed it, then paused, her hand hovering. Slowly, she stretched it out toward him. “Drink?” she offered, her voice small but steady.

Simon blinked, caught off guard by the gesture. It wasn’t much—just a sippy cup of watered-down juice—but it felt monumental. “Thanks, but that’s yours,” he said gently, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

She pulled it back and took a sip herself, nodding like she’d made a grand decision.

Simon chuckled softly. “Fair enough.”

It wasn’t much, but it was something. A small step, a tiny opening, and Simon took it as the win it was.

The hours slipped by quietly, the sound of the TV buzzing in the background, and before Simon knew it, the three-hour mark had passed. He glanced at the clock, then at the screen, and with a deep breath, he reached over and clicked the power button.

Adira's eyes widened in shock, her little fingers frozen mid-air as she pointed at the now-black screen. "Why?" she asked, her voice a mix of confusion and mild frustration. "I wanna watch..." Her words trailed off, her pout deepening as she looked back at him, like she couldn’t quite understand why he’d taken it away.

Simon bit his lip, fighting a chuckle. "You’ve been watchin' for a while now, kiddo," he said, trying to sound casual, but there was a slight hesitation in his voice. "Time to do somethin’ else, yeah?"

Adira stared at him for a long moment, her little brow furrowed as she processed what he’d said. She didn’t seem convinced at first, her gaze darting back to the black screen as if willing it to come back to life. When it didn’t, she crossed her arms over her chest, her lower lip poking out in a full pout.

“I don’t wanna,” she muttered, voice small but firm. It was clear she wasn’t happy with the decision, but Simon had a feeling it was more about the principle of the matter than the TV itself.

“C’mon now,” Simon said softly, trying to soften the blow. “We can do somethin’ fun. How ‘bout we build somethin' together? Or read a book?”

Her little frown deepened, and Simon almost felt bad for turning the TV off. But this was the first time he’d gotten a moment alone with her, and he knew it was important to break the habit, to show her there were other things to do in the world besides the screen.

She hesitated, her gaze flicking between him and the quiet living room. Then, with a small sigh, she uncrossed her arms and stood up, shuffling toward the toy box with little steps, only to find nothing that interested her.

"Books?" she asked, her voice still laced with uncertainty but tinged with the smallest bit of curiosity.

Simon smiled, feeling a wave of relief. “Books it is,” he said, standing up to join her. “I bet we can find somethin’ that’ll be just as fun as that TV show.”

Adira didn’t answer, but the way she grabbed a book off the shelf made Simon’s heart flutter with a tiny spark of victory. 

Adira returned to Simon’s side, holding a colorful book with a soft, focused expression on her face. The cover was bright, featuring two foxes—one with a bushy tail and the other a smaller, more timid-looking one. The title, No Matter What, was written in bold letters above them. She climbed up beside him and, without a word, placed the book in his lap, her small hands brushing gently against it as if offering him a treasure.

Simon looked down at the book, caught off guard by her quiet gesture. He glanced at her for a moment, meeting her eyes. She looked at him with a silent kind of expectation, waiting.

Slowly, he picked up the book, holding it carefully as if it were something precious. “What’s this?” he asked softly, though it was clear he already had an inkling.

“Foxes,” Adira replied simply, her voice soft but firm. “Mama read it. It’s ‘bout love.”

Simon’s heart tugged at the mention of you. He could imagine the way you’d read to her, the soothing cadence of your voice, the way Adira had probably snuggled up beside you during the bedtime ritual. But there was something in Adira’s face now, something that felt like an invitation—a little piece of trust she was offering him, too.

“Well, alright then,” Simon said, his voice soft as he began to flip open the book. Adira sat close beside him, her tiny hands still on the cover, watching his every move with an intense focus. She didn’t rush him. The silence between them felt comforting.

He began to read aloud, slowly at first, as if still gauging her reaction. “No matter what, the foxes knew that they would always be together, through the rain or the snow, through the darkest nights and the brightest days.”

Adira shifted beside him, her little legs crossing as she settled into his side. Her small hand reached for the page as he turned it, her fingers brushing over the illustrations. She didn’t interrupt, just quietly absorbed the words.

As Simon read on, his voice grew more confident, and the warmth of the moment started to settle between them. For a fleeting moment, it felt like they had bridged a gap, one word at a time, one page at a time. It wasn’t much, but it was something—something to build on.

Adira’s gaze remained fixed on the book, but her body had relaxed against Simon’s, the way a child does when they feel safe. As the last pages of the book came into view, she snuggled closer, her head resting against his shoulder.

When Simon finished reading, he let the book fall softly onto his lap. He looked down at her, her eyes half-closed, but still aware and trusting. She looked up at him again, her tiny voice soft as she spoke. “Foxes love each other... no matter what.”

Simon’s heart thudded in his chest, the simplicity of her words hitting him harder than he expected. He wasn’t quite sure what it all meant yet, but in that moment, it was enough to see her so close, so willing to share something so personal. A bond had begun to form—fragile, yes, but it was there.

“Yeah,” Simon said, his voice barely above a whisper, “no matter what.”

With the last of the kids sent off and the staff beginning to clean up, you closed up shop, ready to call it a day. But just as you were locking up, a loud clap of thunder rattled the building, causing you to jump in shock. Your heart raced for a moment, the suddenness of it making you freeze in place.

“Jesus, if Adira was here, she’d lose it,” you muttered to yourself, trying to laugh off the shock. But then, your words hit you like a ton of bricks.

If Adira was here.

A chill ran through you as it dawned on you just how careless you’d been. Shit. Shit. Shit. You had completely forgotten to tell Simon about her fear of thunderstorms. She hated them. Hated the loud crashes of thunder, the flashes of lightning. You’d seen her curl up in a ball, her hands over her ears, eyes wide with terror when the storms hit.

The sound of the storm outside was only getting louder, the thunder now booming and crackling as it came closer. You could imagine Adira, sitting there with Simon, eyes wide and full of fear, clutching whatever comfort she could find, and Simon… God, Simon probably didn’t know what to do. He wouldn’t have any idea how to handle it.

Without thinking twice, you dropped everything—your bag, your jacket, anything that wasn’t crucial to getting home. You shot a quick look toward the staff, offering a hasty explanation and apology. Then, without another word, you bolted through the doors, past the remaining parents who were still talking in the lobby, and into the rain.

The rain beat down on you as you sprinted through the streets, the cold droplets stinging your skin as the thunder rumbled overhead. You couldn’t focus on anything but getting home. Adira needs me. Adira needs me.The mantra repeated in your head with each pounding step. Your feet splashed through puddles, the air heavy with the scent of wet pavement and the growing tension in your chest.

It felt like forever as you raced through the downpour, but at last, you reached the building, heart hammering in your chest. You fumbled with your keys, every second feeling like an eternity as the thunder rumbled louder, closer. Hurry, you told yourself, voice shaky as you turned the key and shoved the door open.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

The air felt thick, and as you stepped inside, your eyes instantly darted to the living room.  

On the couch, Simon was sitting with Adira curled up in his side, wrapped tightly in her favorite blanket. Her little body was nestled against his, her small form practically hidden in the folds of the soft fabric. On the coffee table in front of them were the remnants of their quiet afternoon—plastic plates with pizza stains, her sippy cup placed haphazardly next to the mess. Around them, the stack of books you always read to her was scattered across the table: I Love You to the Moon and Back, The Koala Who Could, What Color is a Kiss?—books that had been a staple in your bedtime routine for as long as you could remember.

The sight of them—Adira calm, safe, resting against Simon—caught you off guard. You’d expected panic, chaos, something more… uncertain. But instead, the two of them looked peaceful. Simon’s hand was gently resting on her back, his other arm loosely around her as she drifted in and out of sleep, her head nestled against his chest. She was calm. And that... that made your heart ache in ways you hadn’t expected.

You hadn’t expected Simon to be so… natural with her. He’d stepped up in a way you didn’t think was possible, at least not this soon. Maybe you had underestimated him. Maybe—no, you knew—you had underestimated this. 

Simon, with Adira, was something real.

Hi so, this took a while, wanted to make this really long for yall. For me as im writing this, it's 5 AM! I've been working on this since 1 PM yesterday. Long Fics are not my strongpoint, I had so much trouble with this because I'm a perfectionist and my tiny brain often repeats words ALOT. I'm working on it and the best way to improve is to keep writing.

As things currently go, I may write shorter things for this family, I want to develop Adira and Simon's relationship more just not with super long stuff like this. I'd also would love to answer any questions or talk about headcanons anyone has about them. Feel free to send asks!

Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed and by the time this goes up I'm sure I'll still be asleep!

P.S can someone tell me if I do tags wrong, like ive noticed sometimes when I tag it doesn't have the little underline so I keep thinking it doesn't go through </3

BIG ASS TAGLIST: @notsochillnerd @xanvasy @nightunite @reyy001 @liliemb04 @doodle-cat16 @wwe1rdc0re @multy-fandom-lover @skylarmitchell @athenianharpy @mxtokko @watu2ka @gifted-aurora @sapphire-jelly26 @janeety @lem-hhn @natdu @honey-teaaaaaaaa @gg-trini @kawaiivanilla-chan @despairinglakepasta @gaida-511 @jayjkay @watersquirtpewpewboomm @nikt-wazny-y @dragon-bubs @thisishwrworld @prettygirlwhoreadsatnite @illusionistlover @just-pure-trash @theliqouricebtch @sullyoung @me-llyssa @drewsuncrustables @phosphoracat @sabrina-senpai @shadowdark00 @imttryi @brokenxintroverted @eevily @aiyaaayei @coffeeandtealol @codcosplayer @scaleniusrm @momoewn @classaysstuff @fancymilkshakewitch @tessakate @a-lil-bit-nuts @beautifuleaglealpaca @vickieesstuff @captainchrisstan @alyyaanna @kaeyasfuturewife @huehuehuehuehehe @allllium @the-number7 @idfkimhereforsmut @katzarantos @tamayakii @7haze @k-bakuhoe @armycaratlover @thecoolestastrophile @montenegroisr @little-b33 @pantheonofbeauty @oooof-ifellforyou @ang3lc @littleracco0n @dravenskye @supaturtl3 @maciswack @carebear209 @bassandlace @3ndar @bespectacledhuman @xshellchenx-blog @astro-stars @avavie @vexillum-moeru @nina-from-317 @gazsluckyhat @1-800-g00ber @yukisdelusional @styx-eclipsed @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @nommingonfood @idkwhattodosooo @noheadcanons-juststories @zaqnette @fluffysmiko @aliciamorov @mageknight-anya @athaliw @princessloveweird @lucypaulette @hikotaru @julesjunimos @xqhro @blushingskulls @foodisbaepinterestislife @thecursebreaker @harperdoodle @taygirl24 @alfie2401 @devoetee @kodokunarisu-blog @lovealwaysserena

[madamechrissy]

Need a seatbelt when you Ride it

Cw-MDNI- Satoru x fem!reader, explicit, domestic smut

After ten years together and three kids, you and your husband Satoru are still as freaky as ever.

Dropping the three girls off with Auntie Shoko and Uncle Sugu, you immediately dive down and start sucking Satoru's cock as he drives that minivan neither of you wanted. Gone is PTA mom and soccer dad, replaced with Satoru whimpering as you slobber down his length.

'Baby f-fuck not gonna make it' he whines, big hand slipping down to rub you under your skirt over your tights, which you've soaked through, earning his groan. 'So wet, fuck you're a slutty soccer mommy'

You just moan around him, to the point your husband Satoru has to pull over, the side of some quiet street, pulling you by your hair off him, you look at his lidded blue eyes as you stroke his cock up and down. 'Need you, now Toru, please'

Satoru slides his seat back, leaning over and kissing you sloppy and messy, not sweet little pecks like you all usually do, no its dirty. He's spitting in your mouth when he yanks a titty out toying with your nipple, dragging you on his lap.

He's as eager as when you all met in college, and so are you, you're so excited your head bumps the TV system, playing dumb ass Coco melon the kids watched, you both laugh breathless. 'Please... need you in me'

'Lemme lick her' He rips a hole right in your tights making you gasp, slipping two fingers in your soaking wet cunt, your ass bumps the steering wheel, honking the horn and making you both blush and giggle as you look around.

'Can't wait. Lick me later' you take his cock and rub it against your slit. He cries out, cheeks dusted pink, while your hands entangle in his silky white locks, his hands on your hips firmer.

'Fine lemme taste you, at least. Fuck...' Satoru's thumb swirls your clit as you sink down on his cock, inch by inch, and fuck there were so many, stretching you, cunt gushing when he sucks you off his thumb, cheeks hollowing, blue eyes rolling back. His hands grip you hard then, yanking you down his length, filling you so good you are close from that. 'You're so tight'

'Fuck me, please, please' Soon your husband Satoru is pounding into your pussy, leaky tip slamming your cervix, and you're pretty sure you're not making those dinner reservations when you cumming for the third time and he's dragging you to the back of the minivan, as dumbass cocomelon plays and you're smashed against a bunch of toys and goldfish wrappers, but you really don't mind when he's cumming inside you again, whispering -

'Gonna put another baby in you, whole fucking soccer team'

Hcs of my man all domestic✨️

[sincerelyneo]

juno | l.hc

“one of me is cute, but two though…?”

💿now playing: juno by sabrina carpenter

❯ summary: Kids were never really something you thought about. But then you saw your sexy as fuck boyfriend playing uncle and now you can't stop thinking about giving him a baby of his own. What can you say...your hormones are high.

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: smut, established relationship

❯ words: 2.7k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, unprotected sex (don't do this!), swearing, breeding and pregnancy kink, possessiveness, dirty talk, begging, praise, creampie, slight angst not really idk, fluff, reader uses she/her pronouns, literally just the reader getting baby fever from seeing hyuck with kids (very real el oh el.)

an: i know this is like my third haechan post in a week, but i literally don’t care. sue me x

You didn’t want kids. Well, that’s not true. You were indifferent to kids. 

That was until you saw your boyfriend with them. You didn’t think you could be more attracted to him, but then he had to go and check off the "great with kids" box. Maybe it’s just his playful side, but Lee Donghyuck is just so good with them.

And being forced to attend his niece’s first birthday party made you realise it. Honestly, you’d never given much thought to the idea of kids—cute yes, ready to give up endless nights of sleep, no. 

But the minute after you walked through his childhood family home and were done greeting his parents and siblings, a swarm of kids ran at him, hugging his legs and stomach. And he just melted into them, so gentle and excited. It was cute and made you smile. 

From then it was him letting his oldest niece cover his tanned cheeks in blush and stickers, to tossing a ball with his nephew after he announced he made the basketball team—and don’t even get started on him poking the chubby cheeks of his youngest niece, her soft giggles filling the backyard of the party. 

It was like he was in his element—soft, loving, and completely at ease. And even though his nieces and nephews had other uncles and aunts, they’d always say Uncle Hyuck was their favourite—even if they weren’t supposed to.

You watch him from the patio door in the kitchen, overhearing him tell his dad he’s “too young to be having the adult conversations,” which was really code for ‘let me play with the kids.’ 

Running around, telling jokes, creating games. It had your stomach turning and—were your heart strings being pulled? Seeing this absolute perfect man, so caring and playful, living just to make those little ones laugh and smile, had you seriously considering the sleepless nights that might come with having some of your own.

Wait. 

“He’s good with them, huh?”

You jolt, turning to see Hyuck’s sister standing behind you.

“Uh... yeah, I guess so,” you shrug. She steps beside you, and the two of you stand there, watching your boyfriend bounce his niece in his arms, soothing her gently.

She giggles, and you glance over at Hyuck’s sister again. “What?”

“Nothing,” she shrugs. “Just... you’re looking at him like you’re ready to add to the Lee family name.”

You gasp. “I am not!”

She gives you a knowing look, and you bite your lip, eyes shifting back to Hyuck. This time, he’s handing his niece a sippy cup, tapping her nose. Your chest tightens.

“Okay... I suppose he is good with them.”

Hyuck’s sister nods, humming in agreement. “He always has been. With every younger sibling, every cousin—even when I had my first daughter, Hyuck was the most excited.”

He’s sitting on the grass now, all his nieces and nephews swarming him, tickling him. He’s being extra dramatic, letting the younger ones tug at his hair just to make them laugh. You stare, warmth and wholesomeness filling you.

“He’d make a great dad, Y/N.”

The statement is completely sobering.

“Uh,” you stammer, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about it.”

That’s not entirely true. You had spoken about it—once. You’d told him it wasn’t something you had planned for but weren’t necessarily opposed to, and the conversation had never come up again.

Hyuck’s sister blinks at you, clearly confused. “That’s crazy. Hyuck’s always said he wants to be a dad.”

Clearly. 

There’s no denying that. It’s so obvious—every second he’s cupping up the kids, tickling them, teasing them. He looks so profoundly happy, so perfect. And it suddenly clicks for you.

This could be yours. Forever. He wants it. And now... you’re starting to think you want it, too. Him, this, forever. His kids. Your kids.

“Y/N! Y/N!” one of the younger kids calls, waving you over from across the backyard. “Can you play with us? We need more people to play the monsters. Uncle Hyuckie can’t do it on his own.”

And just like that, you’re being pulled away from the baby fever conversation and coaxed into joining them—not that it took much convincing. Your thoughts were starting to scare you a little. You’d never seriously thought about kids—until now.

Because you’d never seen Hyuck look more attractive than when he was playing dad.

“I can’t believe she’s one already,” Hyuck beams from where he’s stretched out on your bed. He’s been talking about the party nonstop since you got home. “Did you see the little bows in her hair? So fucking cute.”

You glance at him through the vanity mirror where you’re sitting, watching the way his face lights up, animated and so full of joy. There’s a warmth in your eyes, your lips curved into a soft smile as you take him in. He notices, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s that look for?” 

You stand and walk over to him, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. His eyebrows knit together, more confused now.

“Y/N, what’s going on?”

You smile, sidestepping his question with one of your own. “Did you have fun today?”

“Yess…?” he replies, but there’s a trace of suspicion in his voice.

“Your family’s really nice.”

“Oh, are they now?” He squints playfully. “I saw you talking to my sister. I hope she wasn’t embarrassing me—she loves doing that.”

You shake your head with a giggle. “She wasn’t.”

“Okay…” he draws out. “Then what was she saying?” 

“That you’d be a good dad. That you want to be a dad.” 

Hyuck’s eyes widen and you mentally add this moment to the short list of times your boyfriend has been rendered completely speechless—still countable on one hand.

He coughs, his cheeks turning pink. “S-She said that?”

You nod, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

“And…what did you say back?”

You spread his legs out on the bed so you can slide between them, sitting there and looking up at him as he waits, eager for your response. He’s so cute like this—adorable, even—clearly dying to hear what you thought.

“I didn’t respond,” you admit honestly.

You catch the flicker of hurt in his eyes, but he covers it with a laugh—though it’s not genuine. You can tell he’s trying to brush it off, trying to pretend that he’d be okay with the possibility that you might not want that kind of future with him.

“She shouldn’t have said that,” he mumbles, embarrassed. “I used to talk about it a lot as a kid. I don’t really think like that now. I can’t, you know… because of my job.”

“So you don’t want kids because of your job?” You ask. The tone in your voice takes him by surprise because now you’re the one sounding hurt. 

“Baby... is this a trick question?” He laughs nervously.

You shake your head, crossing your arms across your chest. “No Hyuck. But I want you to answer it truthfully.” 

He shrugs, looking unsure. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.”

“You’re lying.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Baby, I don’t know what you want me to say—”

“The truth,” you insist. 

He pauses, his gaze softening. “I love you, Y/N. You said kids weren’t really part of your plan, and that’s okay,” he begins, his voice steady but sincere. “And yeah, maybe I always kind of thought kids would be in mine, but then I met you. And you became my plan.”

You grab a hold of his hand and squeeze. It draws a genuine smile from him before he speaks again. 

“I know we’ve never talked about it since. But I’m fine with anything—as long as it’s with you.”

You smile, his comment pulling at your heartstrings because you feel the exact same way. 

“Those kids absolutely adore you, Hyuck,” you say and he gives a half smile. 

“Well, I am their favourite Uncle.” 

You trail a soft finger up and down the naked skin of his arm. His eyes follow your touch and that furrowed expression is on his face again. 

“Y/N what’s going on with you? You’re confusing me—”

“You know—” you cut him off. “I think you’d be a great dad.” 

He stares at you, properly taking you in. He’s never seen this side of you before, and you’ve never given him a compliment quite like that before. The thought of you being into the idea of him as a dad… well, he didn’t expect it to turn him on this much. Maybe it’s the way your fingers brush his arm? Yeah no, it’s not.

“Today made me realise something,” you say, shifting to straddle his hips, your arms wrapping around his neck now. He raises a curious brow, waiting. “You look so hot with kids. The thought of you being a dad is so fucking hot, Hyuck.”

Hyuck smiles at the confession, and his hands move to grip your ass as he ground your hips forward on himself. You let out a small gasp of surprise as you feel him. 

“Please don’t joke like that, Y/N,” he whines, eyes squeezing shut. “Because I’ve been thinking about you being the mother of my kids since the day I met you.”

You giggle, biting your lip to stifle the soft moans escaping you as he grinds you slowly against his growing bulge.

“Well, why don’t you do something about it then,” you tease breathlessly, feeling the hardness of him through his sweatpants.

Hyuck’s mouth parts, caught somewhere between awe and shock, but before he can question how serious you are, your lips capture his, and your tongue is slipping inside his mouth to deepen the kiss.

The groan you both share is synchronised, and it’s all the encouragement he needs to flip you over, hovering above you with a renewed sense of urgency to make promise of your teasing. 

His fingers hook into your panties, sliding them off as you shift upward against your pillows, tossing your nightgown aside. Hyuck strips out of his own clothes, desperate to press his bare skin against yours, his need overwhelming any sense of patience.

He kisses you back roughly, passionately. Fuelled by your impossible hotness and readiness to be fucked—fucked by him. Your tongue dips deeper and deeper into his mouth, never satisfied, craving more of him. You cling to him, your hands and legs moving over his skin, desperate to feel every inch. Your hips roll up, slickness coating his shaft, causing a rippling gasp to leave his mouth. 

Hyuck pulls back with dark eyes. You—his girl—naked and desperate under him, begging him to do something about his baby fever—your baby fever. It’s the hottest shit he’s ever seen. His new favourite thing. His obsession. He loves seeing you like this, he decides—so willing, so desperate for him, for his cock. Needing him to bring you the pleasure only he can give. And he’ll make sure you remember that once you're carrying his child.

The image floods his mind—your stomach growing, swelling with his baby, the glow in your smile as you hold his child. A family, all with him. Only him. Because you want his kids.

The last thought pushes him over the edge, and with a low growl, he bites down on your neck, lips and teeth claiming your skin. He wants you marked by him—like always—but this time it’s different. It’s possessive. Primal. Feral. His saliva wet on your neck, dark bruises blooming over your breasts, his fingers burning prints into your hips, and his seed buried deep inside your soaking wet cunt.

His cock jumps when you roll your hips again, your whimpers causing him to groan and eyes roll back. You sound so desperate. Desperate to make him your forever. 

“Hyuck—” you sob as his teeth graze your nipple, sending it hardening under his touch. “Please, I need to feel you.”

His eyes sparkle with lust as he drapes your legs over his waist and leans down, capturing your mouth in a long, needy kiss. He aligns himself with your slick pussy, your fingers clawing at his back as he slowly eases into you. He fills you completely, lifting your hips to bury himself deeper.

“So fucking pretty like this,” he mumbles, pulling away to admire the way you take his thick cock. “Taking me so well, always so good for me, aren’t you, baby?”

You moan as his cock hits every spot inside you—so deep, so hard, so good. Each thrust drags along your walls in a way that feels divine.

“Can’t wait until you’re mine, so full of me,” he whispers, kissing your neck. You whimper, your walls clenching at his words, urging him to quicken his pace. “Do you want that, baby? Want my cum inside this pretty pussy?”

“Yes—fuck yes—please.”

“Say it for me,” he requests softly, a gentle yet desperate edge in his voice. “Please tell me.”

“I want to be yours; make me yours,” you breathe out.

Hyuck's gaze drops to your lips, entranced by the words spilling from them. He thrusts harder, your nails digging into his skin as you pull him closer. Your cunt swallows his cock whole, turning his thrusts sloppy, and he groans.

You’re practically sobbing with how fast he’s driving into you, so close to seeing stars.

“You’re so good at taking me,” he praises, his breath ragged. “Gonna make me fill you.”

You squeeze around him, and the thought of cumming inside you sends a shiver through his thighs, making his breathing stutter.

“Yes! Fuck, please keep going,” You pant. 

“Want you so full of me that it’s dripping down your leg. And then I’ll push it back in when I fuck you again.”

Your breaths grow louder and quicker, matching his as you both teeter on the edge. He kisses you deeply, your mouths suffocating each other as you grip his soft brown hair. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you tight.

“Hyuck—I’m gonna cum.”

“So fucking good, baby,” he moans in awe. “I’m going to fill you with my cum. I want you overflowing with my seed—fuck!” He grunts hoarsely, his body tightening with tension.

Your walls shatter around him, tightening and fluttering on his cock as you cum. Hyuck holds you close, so intimately, holding himself deep inside you as he feels the first spurts of his cum shooting from his cock. 

He doesn’t stop, his hips still moving gently, making sure you take everything, softening each thrust with tender kisses along your bare shoulders. You sigh dreamily, fingers threading through his hair, and he smiles, still half-hard inside you. You’re exhausted, and the sight of your sleepy expression makes his heart twist. Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss to your lips, and for a moment, you stay like that—so close, so intimate.

But as the post-orgasm bliss begins to fade, a flicker of panic flashes in his eyes.

“Fuck—” he mutters, pulling himself off of you quickly. There’s a gnawing feeling in his chest, a sudden guilt. “Y/N, I’m really sorry, I got caught up in the moment. Do you want me to run to the store—”

“No.” You shake your head and grab his arm, keeping him close. “I don’t want you to. If that’s okay…”

His eyes darken with lust before a slow smile spreads across his face.

“Y-yeah… that’s more than okay with me,” he says, nodding eagerly.

“Who knows?” You shrug with a teasing grin. “I might not even get pregnant this time.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “This time?”

You nod confidently. “Yeah, this time. Because we’re going to keep doing this until I am pregnant, Hyuck.”

His grin widens as he climbs back into bed, pulling you into his arms.

“I never thought I’d hear you say that, especially not when I woke up this morning,” he laughs, pressing soft kisses along your neck.

You giggle, leaning into his touch. “What can I say? Seeing you in dad mode made me so fucking horny.”

[youregonnabeokay-kid]

i think a lot of people (especially those who haven’t read the books) are underestimating Hades

yes, he presents as the sassy queer uncle who’s done with his family’s drama, but he’s not “just some guy”

when his Helm is stolen, no one knows about it. he uses his own resources and orchestrates a plan to bring Percy to the underworld alive, all while managing an entire freaking kingdom

he doesn’t threaten war because he doesn’t have to and he knows it. unlike Zeus, he keeps a level head and thinks about the situation logically

think about Percy’s priorities throughout the show, look at what the flashbacks are teaching us about him and his relationship with others. think logically. this is a 12 year old kid who grew up with a single mom and no friends

his priority is his mom, it’s always been his mom and Hades knows that. Percy’s worst fear is losing his mother and Hades uses that against him

he takes Sally before Poseidon claims Percy because he has eyes everywhere. he already knew who Percy was and he already had a plan formed before Percy even set foot in camp

when he greets Percy and Grover he isn’t surprised, relieved, or agitated because he planned this. he knew that Percy would come to him whether by force or by his own choice (for my book readers, think about this in comparison to how Zeus reacts to the situation. Zeus comes off as desperate and angry, whereas Hades is at ease. annoyed, sure, but never panicked)

when he offers them pomegranate juice it’s in the guise of politeness and humour but it has an underlying meaning. Percy knows the stories about Hades and Hades knows that he knows. the pomegranate juice is a reminder, it’s Hades demonstrating his power without outright threatening Percy. it’s him going “I can make something as small as a pomegranate seed into a weapon” it’s him asserting his dominance and control over the situation

he leads them to a seating area clearly made for their arrival. another reminder that he knew they were coming and Sally stands, frozen in the middle of it as a reminder of what they have to lose

when he learns that it’s Kronos behind the robberies he immediately offers sanctuary to Percy, Grover, and his mom. Kronos, the king of titans, the father of all Gods, and a being who could once tear the world in two with the snap of his fingers, wants Percy, and Hades offers to protect him because he’s that powerful

so yes, Hades makes dad jokes and he talks in a way you wouldn’t expect an all-powerful being to talk, but he isn’t “just some guy”

he’s powerful, he knows it, and he shows just enough of that power to absolutely terrify Percy