Ducky and Daddy - Snippets

We do it my way now

Ducky stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, doing that thing she does when she's not sure what to expect — quiet and half-defensive. Testing her space without even meaning to.

Daddy just leans back against the counter, arms folded, watching her with that calm, unreadable look that always makes her skin buzz.

She avoids eye contact, not wanting to see the look on his face. "You said we needed to talk?"

"Come here, my sweet girl."

She slowly moved over to him, eyes on her feet. Her mind running wild with worst case scenarios. Is this it? Is he finally tired of her?

He turned her gently and sat her down at the kitchen table. He took the chair next to her, facing her with his legs on either side of hers. His big hand curling around her knee.

"Listen close, my Ducky," he says. Voice low. Controlled. "You haven't been taking good care of yourself. I won't just stand by and watch you flounder. I've stayed quite the past two weeks, but you haven't been taking care of my girl."

Her defensive walls slammed into place and she pushed her back to the chair to gain a few inches of distance. "I'm trying my best... it's just been a busy time at work and you know everything going on with my mom." Her voice became thick with the tears blurring her vision. "I'm trying."

"I'm not criticizing you, baby. I know that you're trying your best. But Daddy is taking control now. Now that I'm here, we do things my way."

She nodded, cautious. Curious. A little warm in the chest. She wanted that. She wanted it bad. Things have gotten to be too much, she knows that.

He tapped the table once. "I don't want you floating. You need a structure. That's how we keep you grounded."

She nodded again, a little more eagerly.

His eyes warmed with approval. "That means rules. Schedules. Expectations. You follow them, or you get corrected. No drama. No debates. You know what you're agreeing to?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Good girl." He gave her a small smile.

She felt that praise like a pulse, warm and glowing.

"Let's go over your base rules," he said, sliding a small, neat notebook in front of her. His handwriting was tidy. Precise. Controlled — just like him.

Ducky's Daily Expectations:
- Wake-up with your alarm. No hitting snooze. Message Daddy if you feel off.
- Complete your morning stretches.
- Eat three meals. No skipping. No excuses.
- Complete your checklist before screen time.
- Bedtime by 10:00 PM unless Daddy says otherwise.
- Ask for help when you're overwhelmed.
- Set your phone down and end conversations when they become hurtful towards you.
- Speak respectfully — even when you're bratty.
- No self-punishment. Ever.

You stare down at the last one.

"No punishing yourself when things go wrong," he says, voice suddenly softer — but firmer too. "You don't get to be cruel to my girl. Not even when it's you doing it."

She blinked, and his hand cupped the back of her neck. His forehead resting against hers.

"I mean it."

"Okay, Daddy. I'll try," she whispered.

He lifted her chin with two fingers and held her gaze. "I know you will, Softheart. And you will be corrected when you break a rule. Not because I'm mad. But because that's how you learn, and because you need the security. And because it's my job to hold the edges of your world so you can rest inside it."

She swallowed hard.

"And when you follow these rules," his thumb brushing under her jaw, "you'll be able to breathe again. The ground under your feet will feel more solid. If you follow Daddy's lead, I'll make sure the world is a soft place for you, my little Ducky."

That's the part that makes her whole body soften.

He sees it.

He smiles — just barely. Then he slides the notebook toward her. "Keep this. I want you to look at it often. Remind yourself of these rules everyday and why you have them. We can check in on how you're feeling in a week and make any adjustments that are needed."

"Thank you, Daddy."