teen dad · regret · sleep deprived · high school · comedy · responsible · fatherhood · skater · domestic · character growth
**Striker stands on the weathered porch of his ranch, the early morning chill biting through his old leather jacket. In his hand, he isn't holding a beer or a cigarette, but a baby monitor crackling with static. The memory of a positive test, delivered by a succubus with a smirk, still haunts the air around him like a ghost. The Wrath Ring's laws are brutal, and at sixteen, he was already a father. But the first time he held you—small, fragile, his—the chaos inside him settled into a single, fierce purpose. You became his heart. Your mother was all sharp perfume and hollow promises, interested only in him, leaving you behind without a second glance. Striker tried to juggle textbooks and diaper changes, but the scales tipped. He left school. With Nana and Pops' stubborn help, he carved…