#ivan drago

The feeling of her arms looping around his neck was a sense of safety that Ivan had been lacking for little over two weeks now. The weight of her in his arms, the feel of her chest merging up against his and her lips finally on his was what Ivan had been dreaming about and missing every day since he left.

The misery which Ivan felt about being away from home had finally washed out of his system and was replaced with relief and comfort.

A laugh tumbled past his lips before they were glued to (Y/n)'s once again. Her warm lips enveloped every one of his senses and made him feel drunk; something he hadn't felt for a long time since the beginning of his training.

Ivan bound his left arm around her waist, keeping her stable against his chest and as he straightened up, he lifted her from her feet to keep their lips connected. His right hand moved to cradle her face, basking in the warmth of her skin as he smiled into the kiss.

He managed to utter "Miss me?" against her mouth, to which he received a laugh and the tightening of her arms around the back of his neck.

"So much, too much."

It had felt like months had passed rather than weeks. (Y/n) didn't like being home without Ivan, it didn't feel right. But (Y/n) couldn't go with him to America, she couldn't be there in person to witness his fight against Apollo. Not when the girls couldn't go too.

(Y/n) stayed home with the girls and watched he fight from home. She longed to be there, she could see how uneasy Ivan had been and how out of place he felt with all the mayhem and havoc and floosy shows the Americans had put on before his fight. She knew Ivan hadn't felt comfortable and she could see how annoyed he was at the way they treated him after he won.

He did what he was supposed to do, he won the fight. The Americans should have realised that their former Champion was out of his depth.

They had all been waiting for him to come home.

Ivan grinned against her lips and brushed his thumb across her jaw as he leant forward and finally set her down to her feet. His arm stayed bound around her middle, keeping her flush against him while he gently tilted her head back and rested his temple against hers.

"Did you watch?" He knew she did, he wasn't sure why he was asking. He knew (Y/n) would have watched the fight, or at least seen the highlights and known that he had won, but he still found himself asking anyway.

"I watched; and I was proud."

The fight had caused (Y/n) to worry; her husband had killed the American champion in his home town. He had caused an uproar and a mix of emotions throughout the country, maybe even the world. It had been safer for him to come home than to stay over there.

Back home, he was a champion too, he was acclaimed and seen as a star. He wouldn't get the kind of threats and torment here that he would receive if he stayed in America.

Her words made him smile so brightly that he rivalled the stars in the sky and the way that he looked down at her made (Y/n)'s blood fizzle right down to her toes. Her hands caressed either side of Ivan's neck but they both paused when the sound of footsteps caught their attention and a high pitched voice rung out through the air.

"Papa's home!"

Pushing up on her toes, (Y/n) quickly stole one more kiss from Ivan's lips that tried their best to glue against her. But she begrudgingly slithered out of his embrace and stepped aside just in time as Chrissy shot through the hall like a whippet.

The five year old bounded over with her arms held out expectingly and a bright smile on her face when she finally reached Ivan.

She squealed when he bent down and scooped her up, lifting her high off her feet and hoisting her into the air. He settled her on his chest, attaching his lips to her temple while Chrissy bound her arms tight enough around the back of his neck to make him take a deep breath. She had a strong grip when she was determined enough.

"There's my girl." He murmured against her forehead and began to sway them both from left to right.

"I missed you."

"I missed you too, missed all my girls." He moved his hand to cradle the back of her head, holding her closer if that were even possible.

Ivan never felt right when he had to leave for long stints of training or for fights set up around Russia to prove that he was the best their country had to offer. He didn't like going when that meant leaving his four girls behind at home. This was where he wanted to be, this was where he belonged.

His lips stayed meshed against Chrissy's temple while he felt her skimming her small fingers over the back of his neck to feel his shaved hair. And the feeling of her giggling into his neck and wriggling to stay close to him made him grin against her skin.

But his eyes drifted over to the right when he noticed (Y/n) moving out the corner of his eye.

"Millie should be waking up now, I'll go get her."

Ivan nodded, watching his wife retreat up the stairs. Their youngest had been having a nap but (Y/n) knew she would be about ready to wake up, and she would be thrilled to know that her dad was back home now.

Tilting her head back, Chrissy leant to one side and moved her hand from her dad's neck so she could trail her fingers across his face.

Ivan knew what she was doing, and he grinned as he felt her fingertips tickling along his skin. She was checking for bruises or cuts, something she was always watching her mum do whenever he came back from a rough fight. But surprise was evident in Chrissy's eyes when she realised that her dad didn't have any cuts to or around his mouth, no cuts along his eyes or swollen shut eyes. No fading bruises on his skin either.

"No cuts." She remarked with a smile that made Ivan laugh and had his eyes creasing at the corners.

"No, baby, papa won the fight in the first round. No damage." He angled his head from left to right as if to prove his point and let her see that he was clear of any damage. His fight against the old American Champion had been surprisingly quick and easy, Ivan barely broke into a sweat.

He just hoped that his next scheduled fight with the current world Champion would be that easy. The General- and Russia- had big plans for him, and he didn't want to let anyone down.

When Chrissy tilted her head forward, Ivan pressed his lips to her temple and closed his eyes, soaking up the touch like he hadn't seen her for years rather than just a few weeks. And when she patted his chest to gain his attention, Ivan begrudgingly parted his lips from her temple so he could look down at her.

"Did you win a medal?" All the girls knew that when Ivan had a big fight, he would win a medal or sometimes trophies, depending on what kind of match it was. There was a shelf in the back room displaying the medals he won and showing off his triumphs so far.

Chrissy was enamoured with them. She would always beg to wear a medal or one of the belts he won in a boxing competition. The belt was far too big to go around her petite waist, but she liked to parade around the house wearing it and making up her own little games.

She also knew that this particular fight had been something big, and big competitions and fights usually meant trophies at the end of them.

Her little eyes went round as she watched him purse his lips and look up towards the ceiling like he was thinking hard and debating his answer. Before he finally cracked a smile and ticked his head to the side towards where his bags were waiting, forgotten by the front door.

"Why don't you check the bags?"

He quickly set Chrissy down to her feet before he dropped her with the way she wriggled in his arms, squealing to have a look.

Ivan didn't actually get a medal or a trophy for this fight with Apollo. It wasn't a fight in a competition or a championship of any kind, it was supposed to be a friendly fight where the Americans thought they could beat Russia in the first round. And with how brutally Ivan had won the fight, he would have been shocked if they offered him any kind of medal or reward for the fight.

But he had found a store before he came back home which had stocked a few kiddie trophies and medallions, so he got one for the girls to commandeer and parade around with. He knew it would keep them happy.

While Chrissy entertained herself by sitting on the floor and rummaging around in Ivan's bags, creating a mess around the hallway, he turned towards the stairs at the sound of footsteps. He thought it would have been (Y/n) coming down with Millie, but he found his eldest making a beeline for him.

Anya sped down the stairs like her feet weren't touching the steps and she was floating through the air. She practically leapt off the bottom step to barrel into Ivan's waiting arms.

He lifted her with ease, binding the ten year old to his chest and pressing a flurry of kisses against her temple. The way she bound her arms around his neck made the back of Ivan's head ache and he had to suck in a deep breath when it felt like she was cutting off his breathing. She clung to him like she was afraid something bad would happen if he let her go.

He adjusted her a bit better in his arms, hoisting her up higher with his left arm around the back of her legs to keep her steady while his other hand smoothed up and down her back.

"There you are."

Ivan's bright smile started to falter and diminish the longer he waited for Anya to say something, anything, or give a little nod or indication that she had heard him. But she didn't.

She seemed to tighten her arms around him until Ivan had to bow his head down to make breathing easier. His muscles started to tighten and tense up when he felt her meshing her face into his shoulder so much that it began to hurt.

He finally heard what he guessed was "Missed you," spoken in hushed, muffled tones against his shoulder while her nails started to scratch at the back of his neck.

His brows furrowed and he began to walk down the hall just a few steps away from the stairs and from Chrissy who was still in her own world, rummaging around like she was searching for buried treasure. Ivan pressed his back up against the wall, straightening his frame while he tried to carefully peel his eldest daughter from his shoulder so he could actually look at her and find out what was the matter.

She kept her arms around his neck, their chests glued together but Anya relented and raised her head so they were level. But it didn't stop her from adverting her eyes down and focusing on his chin instead of his eyes.

"What's wrong devochka?" His thick accent rolled around the words causing them to sound rather deep and gruff, but the concern was clear in his voice.

Ivan was so used to all the girls clinging to him and hounding him with questions and divulging him for details, and them reeling off what they had been doing in his absence. Having one of the girls go quiet and seem like something was clearly upsetting her wasn't something Ivan was used to when he came home.

And he didn't like the thought of something upsetting any of his girls. If there was something wrong, Ivan needed to know so he could try and sort it out.

He watched Anya's eyes as they moved from left to right, almost like she was doing what Chrissy had done, searching his features for any marks or bruises before she finally spoke.

"Papa… did you win your fight?"

He didn't like the fact that she was deflecting his question when something was clearly wrong or upsetting her, but she was starting the conversation so Ivan would go along with it, for now.

He didn't smile, but his eyes creased as he nodded. "I did, and now I have a bigger fight to train for."

Anya nodded, her lips twitching so fast that Ivan wasn't sure whether she had tried to smile or whether he simply imagined the motion. But then her teeth were sinking down into her lip and she was pouting as she pulled her hands from around his neck so she could start to tug at the collar of his shirt. Something she was doing to try and distract herself.

"Can you teach me?" Her voice was softer this time, an edge of worry woven into her words like she was waiting for him to deny it and say no.

Her words perplexed him. Why did she want him to teach her? What did she want to learn to fight for? Ivan wasn't against the idea, when Anya was younger, before Chrissy and Millie, when Ivan was training hard to make a name for himself, he would take her down to the gym with him.

She would watch him train, she would be his little cheerleader smiling and clapping along. And sometimes, Ivan would show her how to throw a punch at the punching bag or how he taped his knuckles before getting his gloves on.

But there was something different in her voice today, she wasn't asking to watch or for him to show her how it was done. She wanted him to teach her to box, to fight like him. There had to be a reason. Anya wasn't the kind of child that would just ask for something like this on a whim.

"Teach you? To fight?" When she nodded and confirmed his words, Ivan held his breath for a moment or two. "Why?"

He would have felt better if Anya was asking with a wide smile and curiosity burning within her eyes. If she had been asking him because she wanted to be like him or take after him. But she wasn't smiling, and she didn't look all that happy, if anything she looked worried.

Her head dropped so her cheek was laid out on his shoulder and her arm loosened a little around his neck so Ivan no longer felt like he was struggling to catch a breath. He began to smooth his hand up and down her back for a few moments, his own back still resting up against the wall with Anya tilted into his chest almost like she was a newborn again who he was trying to settle down for a nap.

Either she was avoiding his question or she couldn't find the right answer to give him, for she stayed silent in his arms. Now tracing her fingers along his chest like she was secretly writing down her answer into his shirt.

Another minute ticked by before Ivan sighed and smothered his lips against her temple.

"Devochka, what's the matter?" His voice was softer than before and his words were hushed as if they were having their own little conversation that they didn't want anyone else to hear.

Anya looped her finger in the collar of Ivan's shirt and started to pull, clearly just fiddling and messing around and Ivan didn't mind. He watched her with interest while his hand continued to glide up and down her back. The feeling of her short nail scratching against his chest was ticklish and she kept pulling until his collar bone was exposed.

"I told them at school that you always win, they said you fight nasty… Joseph pushed me, and said I'm not strong like you."

Her head stayed on Ivan's shoulder as she spoke which meant that she felt the way he tensed up once her words registered in his mind.

She told some of her friends that her dad was in America, she told them he was a fighter and that he won all of his matches. But there had been one boy at school that had been rude, who said that her dad was a bad fighter and he fought nasty.

Then he pushed her. He taunted her by saying she wasn't a fighter or even strong like her dad. Anya wanted her dad to show her how he practised, she thought that if she knew then she could show Joseph and the other kids in her class that she was strong and she could defend herself and Ivan if they ever said anything.

"He pushed you?" Each word was huffed and panted as his nostrils flared and his lips twitched when he felt her nod against his shoulder.

He didn't care who this child was, they had no right to be pushing his daughter around or taunting her. Ivan didn't care what anyone said about him or the way he fought, it didn't matter. He had (Y/n), his team, his managers, the General and President behind him. He had them all to tell him he was doing good and to promote him and show the world what he could do.

Hearing a few kids say he fought bad or he was ruthless or nasty in his fighting didn't bother him one bit.

But he wouldn't have anyone, adult or child, saying those things to his daughter and upsetting or hurting them.

Ivan would teach Anya some defence moves, he would teach Chrissy too and Millie when she was a bit older. He would teach all his girls how to look after and defend themselves so if they got taunted, they could fight back and stand up for themselves. He would make sure that this didn't happen again.

"I fight to win, devochka and that's not nasty, it's strong." He would admit that he was ruthless, but he wouldn't say he was nasty.

He didn't cheat, he didn't go against the rules or throw punches in the kidneys or too near the heart. He didn't do anything that he could be disqualified for or be called out for. He was simply ruthless and powerful and that was something he was proud of.

He peppered a few kisses against her temple and stroked his finger along her cheek when she lifted her head to look up at him.

"I'll teach you." He vowed, sealing it with a kiss to her cheek before he finally pushed off the wall he was leaning against. "Come on, I need to find Millie."

Ivan felt like he had a little shadow for the next hour. When he went to see Millie and spend some time with the two year old, he had Anya trailing behind him happily and quietly.

When he watched Chrissy parade around with the medal he bought, while he grabbed his bags- that had been scattered and raided by his middle daughter- and put his things away, he still had his little shadow behind him.

He had to hide the presents he brought home for the girls in their rooms for Anya to finally settle and leave his side, too intrigued to know what he got for her to stay faithful to his side.

He watched the three of them toddle off to their rooms, eager for the little gifts he had hidden away for them to find. While they were distracted, Ivan trailed down the hall and slipped into his room, exactly where he knew he would find (Y/n).

She had her back to the door, humming softly like she was in her own little world as she folded some clothes on the bed. He approached her with caution, his feet gliding across the carpet with quiet stealth the same as he did when he was gliding around the boxing ring. And when he was close enough, he reached his large hands out and clamped them down on (Y/n)'s hips sharp enough to make her gasp.

Her frame jumped in his hold, feet almost leaving the floor as she sprung up and craned her neck to look over her shoulder.

(Y/n) couldn't help the grin that spread across her features as she looked up at Ivan. For the last two weeks while he had been away, she hadn't had any jump scares like this, it was something he had a knack and a love for doing. He was always trying to sneak up on her or making the girls jump, prowling around the house for one of his girls to give them a playful shock.

She set down the shirt in her hands and let herself slouch back into Ivan's broad chest, moving her hands down to clamp around his forearm when his arms bound over her waist like he was caging her in against him. And she wasn't about to object.

"Okay?" Her lulling voice seemed to make Ivan close his eyes and he smiled as he hummed in response, turning his head to tuck his face into her neck.

She could feel his lips ghosting over her skin before he started to graze his teeth and bite down just enough to leave a scratch behind. The searing touch was enough to turn (Y/n)'s mind to mush and she closed her eyes when she realised Ivan was slowly swaying them both from left to right.

She was glad he was back home. It wasn't the same around here without him; without the only man in the house.

"Bring the girls down to training tomorrow."

Surprise flooded (Y/n)'s face and her eyes opened as she tried to make sure she'd heard him right. She couldn't exactly turn to face him when his face was tucked up into her neck and his large frame was enveloped around her like a shawl or a safety net. But she tried to glance down as much as she could. Ivan didn't lift his head from her skin and he didn't chuckle or make any kind of joke or statement afterwards.

It wasn't often that he asked for them to come and watch him train. (Y/n) used to all the time, and when he trained at home in the garden (Y/n) could never stop herself from admiring Ivan. But she knew how hard he had to train recently.

His team were strict and (Y/n) didn't want her or the girls to be a distraction or get in the way if they turned up to see him train. So they usually just kept to watching him when he was practising at home.

"Really? Why?" She wasn't unhappy about the idea, (Y/n) was rather taken to go and see Ivan practise properly at the gym where he worked out with his team. But there had to be a reason, something must have prompted this sudden request and she was curious.

"I want my girls there."

A soft "Alright," murmured past (Y/n)'s lips before she reached her hand out to cup his face, lifting his head from her shoulder so she could press a kiss to his lips.

There was a reason, she knew it, but she wouldn't push the subject when he was smiling so sweetly against her lips. All the girls would be happy to go and see him gearing up and working hard for his next fight.

And (Y/n) was relieved that his fight against Rocky was going to be in Ivan's home town. If it had been another American fight then (Y/n) would of had to stay home and watch the fight over the tv, because of the girls. They couldn't drag all three girls out of school and nursery to go and see the fight, Anya was the only one old enough to watch the fighting anyway.

At least this way they could find a babysitter and (Y/n) could be there in person to support her husband.

***

Ivan closed his eyes and dropped his head forward as he felt the sweat pouring from his temple and he shook his head when he felt a slow trickle trickling down the bridge of his nose. He could feel the sweat slowly trailing down his forearms trying to reach the gloves strapped tightly to his hands and covering his wrists.

The red shorts bound tight around his hips were loose over his thighs meaning that the material didn't stick to his skin. He hated sweating through clothing and having to peel it off at the end of the day like a second layer of skin.

It was why he never trained wearing a shirt or a vest of any kind, they just got drenched in sweat and made him uncomfortable.

Inhaling a deep breath, Ivan opened his eyes and bounced on the balls of his feet before pummelling his gloves into the blood red punch bag hanging in front of him like it was taunting him, just begging for him to split the seams and break it from the hook it hung on. He rested his hand against the punch bag when he tried to catch his breaths, stopping the bag from swinging back and knocking into him.

"Papa!"

Ivan almost didn’t hear the familiar voices calling out to him over the sound of the blood rushing through his ears like an amplified drumbeat rattling through his head. He stopped bashing his gloved fists against the punchbag the moment he noticed two of his girls running at him full speed.

Moving a few steps away from the punchbag, he crouched down and opened his arms with a smile when they headed his way. He hooked one girl under each arm and straightened up, lifting both Anya and Chrissy off their feet instantly.

A grin spread across his features when Chrissy squirmed, squealing and groaning as she patted his shoulder, muttering that he was sticky. She didn't want a big hug if he was covered in sweat, but she didn't have a choice now.

"There are my girls." He mused as he kissed each of their cheeks before he looked dead ahead.

(Y/n) was aiming his way with Millie a step in front of her. The two year old was speeding as fast as she could, scuffing her shoes against the waxed floor as she tried to reach them all with her arms stretched out in front of her.

A rendition of "Papa!" left her lips until Ivan bent forward to ease the girls down to exchange them for Millie.

"Hi beautiful." He kissed her cheek and stayed crouching near the floor so he could cuddle her and be at her level. Millie hadn't been here very often so this was going to be a new experience for her. Ivan could see her little eyes were already going wide as she took everything in.

Noticing the few people on Ivan's team who were getting everything ready for his training regime. There was a boxing ring in the corner, although none of his team liked to be the volunteer to go up against him. There was a treadmill, sparring gloves, weights and bench presses. And there was a large field outside where he could run track and relay lengths if he wanted to.

Once Millie wriggled out of his arms, Ivan pushed up to his feet with his eyes solely focused on his wife.

He moved towards her, slowly, like a predator stalking its prey and he raised his left hand to his mouth. His teeth attached to the blood red strap around his gloves, ripping the velcro so it undid and he could jiggle his wrist until the glove came loose and dropped to the floor by his feet.

He made quick work of undoing his other glove, letting it drop to the floor too so he could reach out for his wife.

Sighing, (Y/n) couldn’t help but smile and she tipped her head forward to rest in the crook of his neck, relishing in the touch for a few moments as Ivan's arms bound around her. She didn't mind the sweat or his flushed skin that was beet red by now, she was used to it. Everything about Ivan was comforting.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek before reluctantly unravelling from him so she could reach out for Millie before the toddler had chance to run off and cause chaos in her wake.

"Papa, are you going to teach me?" Anya swayed from her toes to her heels as she curiously pointed towards the punching bag which Ivan had creased in the middle.

There was a sparkle, a glimmer in her bright eyes that made Ivan's heart speed up and had his chest igniting with adrenaline. She didn't look nervous or worried like she did yesterday when she asked him about teaching her, she looked eager. Excited. Happy. That was what he wanted to see, he was more than happy to train her with him if she wanted to.

And when he glanced towards Chrissy, he saw a curious look in her eyes as her lips parted like there was some kind of secret going on. As if she was being left out of something and Ivan just knew that she would want to try too.

"Sure."

Ivan sharply turned to the left when he felt (Y/n)'s hand curling around his tense bicep and for a brief moment he thought she was going to refuse. He thought she was about to tell him not to, that Anya was too young or didn't need to be trained to fight like him. But he was surprised to see her smiling at him.

"Can we take a look around?" It was clear (Y/n) was referring to her and Millie, and probably Chrissy too if she didn't want to join in.

(Y/n) would never want to just wander off and let the girls roam around if Ivan or his managers would oppose to it.

"Course, sweetheart." His lips pressed a lasting kiss to her temple before he aimed towards Anya while (Y/n) took Millie's hand and started to wander around with her. Letting Ivan and Anya have a bit of one to one time together so she could have her dad's full attention.

Ivan crouched down in front of Anya and waited a few extra moments to see what Chrissy was doing, but when she timidly pointed towards the treadmill, he nodded. She was curious about what Ivan was going to teach Anya, but she was too eager to look around and do her own thing to stand and watch them.

And she was a good little runner, the treadmill was exactly what she would be good at doing, and Ivan knew in a little while she would be calling out to him to show off how well she was doing.

"Okay, let's start out simple."

He stayed crouching in front of her and reached out to hold her sides. A gentle smile formed on his lips as he started to wriggle her waist, showing how floppy and loose she was. "Up straight, tense. We want strong core, not jelly."

Anya couldn't help but giggle when Ivan wobbled her back and forth again to make his point. If someone tried pushing her again- Ivan would blow through the roof if he found that out- she had to hold herself up and keep a strong core. The looser she was, the easier she would be to tackle and push around.

It took a few minutes, but they seemed to get there and once they did, Ivan turned her around so she was stood in front of him with her back to his chest.

"You need power in your punches, firm and forceful." He curled his hand into a fist and began stretching his arm out beside her, showing how to push and punch the air.

When Anya began to do the same, Ivan held her elbow to try and keep her arm in the right position and show her how to give a bit of power.

Tilting back a little, (Y/n) sat Millie a bit higher on her hip while the toddler began to tap her shoulder. She was very curious and had been roaming around looking at all the equipment for a while. But now she was happy to be carried for a little while, which was a relief. (Y/n) didn't want her youngest running into one of Ivan's managers or causing a ruckus.

She turned on her heels, looking around the vast gym but there was one sight in particular that made her heart leap and had a fond, nervous smile forming on her lips.

Ivan and Anya.

The eldest was stood on one of the wooden benches, presumably to work on balance and keeping a strong core, plus it made her a bit more level with her dad so he didn't have to crouch down in front of her.

Ivan had his arms held steady at his sides, his broad shoulders tense and pushed up and his back was square and straight. (Y/n) could see the beads of sweat still visible and trickling down his skin especially in the bright lights beaming down on him. And he was grinning down at Anya who had her arms raised in front of her, holding a strong frame that mirrored her dad.

"Hit properly." Ivan rose a brow as he looked down at Anya, his pointed expression making a blush dance across her cheeks as she glanced down at her hands for a moment or two.

"Don't wanna hurt you." She mumbled back in response. Plus, she didn't want to throw a big punch and send herself off balance, she was stood on a bench after all.

"You won't, not yet. Come on, show me how strong you are."

This was a good practise, working on her core and holding herself up like this while trying to give a bit of force. Ivan was over two hundred pounds, there wasn't a lot of force that his daughter could use to actually hurt or damage him with. Her biggest punch would likely only give him the lightest blush of red on his skin. She wouldn't bruise him or hurt him and even if she managed to, Ivan wouldn't care.

As predicted, when she sent her curled knuckles into the centre of Ivan's chest, she didn't inflict much damage and he didn't even move or flinch or waver in the slightest. But the smile that beamed across his face told his daughter that she had done good, that she had some kind of force and strength within her.

"That was good, devochka." Ivan pecked her temple and closed his eyes, trying to commit that beautiful smile to memory like his eyes had taken a photo. He never wanted to forget that look on his daughter's face, that proud, beaming expression that almost blinded him and filled him with pride.

He reached his arm around her and ran his hand up and down her back, both his hands still tightly bound in white tape. It was too time consuming getting his knuckles and fingers taped for him to take it off now when he knew in a while he would be using his boxing gloves again.

Plus, keeping the tape on meant that Ivan could show Anya how to hold her hands and curl her fingers while they were practising.

When a little excited laugh flooded the air, Ivan twisted his hips to look behind him. Watching as his youngest aimed for the punching bag that had been long-forgotten since the girls turned up.

A wide, open-mouthed grin spread across Millie's features as the two year old aimed for the red bag like it was a beacon drawing her in. And once she was close enough, she began whacking her small hands against it excitedly.

It took them all by surprise when Millie suddenly curved her arms out and clung to the bag, much like a monkey trying to cling to a tree. The motion caused Ivan to grin but he quickly jogged over and set his hand on the top of the bag before it started to swing. Either Millie would be swinging in the air or the bag would knock her down, neither of which sounded like a good idea.

"Careful," His tone was soft but there was an air of caution that made the toddler tilt her head back and look up at his tall stature, flashing her teeth up at him.

When he heard a chirpy "Papa look." he turned along with (Y/n) to see that Chrissy was still on the treadmill, where she had been for almost twenty minutes now. It would burn out a lot of her energy so she would be calmer when she went home. She looked like she was in her element.

Before either parent could comment or sing their praise and surprise, a new voice cut through the air and had Ivan's smile fading from his face.

"Wow Drago, lot of girls there. No boys?" Ernie, one of the training assessors on Ivan's team, looked around their group with one brow arched and a smirk on his face. He didn't seem to realise that Ivan wasn't smiling along with him and was indeed frowning.

He wouldn't be the first person to comment on the fact that Ivan had three girls who all had him wrapped around their fingers. And each time someone said a remark like that, it grinded on him. He loved having girls, he loved each of his babies and it didn't matter to him that he didn't have even one boy. His family was perfect the way it was. He was surrounded by strong women and he loved it.

"Thought you'd have a troop by now."

"I have an army of girls in training." His voice had a dangerous edge to it while he motioned his hand to each girl, showing them off.

One was running on the treadmill like she was a super soldier. One was still stood on a bench in the perfect fighting stance, and the other was clinging to the punch bag with a fierce grip.

It seemed to dawn on Ernie that he had said the wrong thing, for he bowed his head and left the room without another word. It wouldn't do him any good to go around upsetting Russia's most prized soldier. If Ivan didn't lash out at him for it, the General would certainly scold him for winding Ivan up.

Shudders and sparks ignited through Ivan's skin when he felt (Y/n) moving to stand at his side so she could rest her cheek up against his bare arm. Her hand curled around his bicep and he could feel her smiling triumphantly into his skin.

(Y/n) had a funny feeling that she and the girls would be coming here a lot more often now. And she already knew that she would find Anya out in the back garden training with Ivan whenever he was out there. It was a sight she couldn't wait to see and capture on film.

She stayed leaning up against him, feeling how Ivan pressed his lips and nose against the top of her head and how each slow, calculated breath he took fanned against her head and made her skin ignite with shivers.

He only lifted his head when he heard Chrissy finally climb off the treadmill and aim towards them. She was panting through her smile but her fingers were twitching at her sides like she still had a lot of energy to burn off. And she seemed to look between her adoring parents before glancing towards the punching bag. Her younger sister was no longer clinging to the bag, she was stood in front of it giving little hits and pats against it as if she thought she had any power or strength at all to move it.

The fiver year old moved to stand beside Ivan and she took his hand, swinging it between them for a minute before she pointed at the bag.

"You do it. Break it papa." It sounded more like a command than a suggestion and Ivan glanced towards (Y/n) before he nodded with a deep breath. He had been ordered, and he couldn't say no.

A quiet but determined "Alright," left his lips as he took a few steps back, bare feet slick against the floor.

He waited for the girls to step back, noticing that Anya had since climbed down from the bench and was now eagerly watching and observing. But Ivan's lips flickered into something sweet and he held his breath when (Y/n) stood in his line of sight, both his gloves in her hands.

She had done this thousands of times, stood in front of Ivan and helped him into his boxing gloves or gently eased them from his sore knuckles. (Y/n) was always unbinding tape from his hands and applying cream and gel to the sore knuckles that somehow managed to stay in place. It wasn't often that Ivan broke a finger or a knuckle.

He shimmied his wrist from side to side until his hand was safely encased in foam and (Y/n) strapped the velcro tight. Once both hands were bound, (Y/n) leant down and pressed a quick kiss to his right glove before she stepped back and reached out for Millie.

Scooping their youngest up into her arms so she could sit her on her hip, just in case Millie tried to help and got caught up or in the way.

(Y/n) felt Anya lean into her side with her head pressing into her waist as they all stood to one side in anticipation. And Anya was the first to move, jumping in shock when Ivan sent a harsh punch to the bag that had the metal chain creaking from the impact.

(Y/n) couldn't deny how much Ivan was in his element right now, nor how much it impacted her to watch up close and personal like this.

She loved to see his arms flex and tense and his shoulders heave and rise or the way he switched his weight from foot to foot. When he was in the ring it was different to see him switching his force from hand to hand, going left and right to confuse and daze his opponent.

It was so much more concentrated to see Ivan using his force and strength on the punching bag because he could just hit repeatedly and constantly. His rhythm didn't break, his change in pace or punch was fluid and seamless and he could carry on without injury or retaliation.

The punching bag had already been creased in the middle when the girls all arrived, and (Y/n) couldn't tell whether that was from days of repeated abuse or whether this was a new punching bag Ivan had started on this morning. But it didn't matter. What mattered was the shape of the bag. It wasn't straight like a beam of light. It was bent, refracted, changed like a broken spine.

The foam was moving and breaking apart on the inside and the bag wasn't steadily swinging back towards Ivan anymore. His punches were so fast and solid that the bag was at a constant angle, tilted back and still like it had been frozen in time.

A loud squeal left Millie's lips and Chrissy began to clap happily the moment that the bag snapped. It seemed to hit the floor, bounce and twist as it fell back and finally landed a good few feet away from Ivan.

His breaths were laboured, his shoulders were hunched and he was leaning forwards like he was expecting the bag to get up for round two like one of his more abled opponents. He only turned when he seemed reassured that the bag wasn't going to shift until he picked it up to throw it in the bin, along with all the others he had damaged.

And when he turned his head to the right and his eyes set on all four of his girls, his mouth quirked up and an almost bashful look flushed his features when he heard them chanting.