#dad ghost

[writersdrug]

Dad!Ghost, but his two girls are so picky with everything they eat. It's a struggle for the both of you to convince them to eat their vegetables - the only success you've had is cooking broccoli and cauliflower until it's fall-apart tender, and slathering it in butter. Maybe you can sneak a few cooked, blended vegetables into their spaghetti sauce, but they're Simon's girls - they know when something's up. They try to bargain and make ultimatums with him at the dinner table, but he doesn't budge an inch, of course. Says something like "eat your vegetables or no Tangled for a month", which makes them reconsider.

Of course, your youngest son will eat anything - no qualms whatsoever. He was barely started on solids and he'd eat bites of steamed eggplant and peas like they were popcorn. Of course he has his favorites; he had a meltdown once, when Simon turned away from the dinner table to pick up the fork your son dropped, only to lift his head and find the little bugger had grabbed the rest of a medium-rare steak off of his dad's plate, attempting to eat it like a true caveman (the apple really didn't fall far from the tree). Didn't let it go or stop crying until Simon put a yogurt pop in his tiny hand.

("Mummy doesn't need to know about this, 'kay?")

[ilostthewar]

Your baby is born and Ghost feels like he is on one of the most high-stress stake outs of his life.

He insisted you go to sleep, cause god knows you need it. He watched all your organs leave your body and then get stuffed back in like sausages. Simon has seen more gore than most of these doctors, and he still stared in mild horror when your screaming baby was pulled from your womb and placed on your chest.

So he insisted you get some rest. He promised, unnecessarily, that he would keep watch over both you and the baby. After all you have been through, if there is anything he can do, it’s this.

He has been shot at, held hostage, shared bathrooms with Price. He has dealt with live bombs that haven’t made him as anxious as he is now. You are vulnerable, exhausted and freshly stitched up. And this baby, so defenseless and entirely reliant on him. Unaware of the world outside of his arms.

He’s pacing the length of the room. He’s shirtless. He had fucked up the swaddle somehow and then the baby had started those little high pitched whines that foretold the end of the world, and Simon had all but torn the fabric in half. Skin to skin contact was important, that’s what the nurse had said earlier. So here he was, the big bad Ghost, with an infant pressed against his scarred chest, the world’s softest and most aggressively pastel blanket coiled around their back.

He doesn’t know what he is waiting for. For the door to burst open, for this bubble he finds himself in to pop. For his damned phone to ring, calling him away from you both. There are a billion things that can go wrong, he knows that. He’s seen it.

But then he feels the bundle in his arms wriggle and he angles his head down to see their blurry eyes as they coo, and the weight in his chest lightens, just enough. He raises the blanket to gently wipe their chin. He lowers his nose to smell the top of their head, and they smell like milk.

He hears you adjust and call his name, soft and sweet. And he turns to go answer you, his hand smoothing over your head to see the drowsy smile that forms on your face.

Maybe he can exist in this moment, just for a little while.

[drifting-along-cai]

Ghost Head Cannons||: Dad Life - Newborn Edition

( No Gender specified for Kiddo or User )

Dad!Simon, who just can't stop staring at his little baby as he holds them in his arms, even when he passes them back to you, he can't stop staring at the little bundle, his head resting on your shoulder.

Dad!Simon, who did cry silently with joy when he was alone with them, processing the fact he's actually got a little family of his own, the possibility once seeming so far from him.

Dad!Simon, who's more than used to staying up long nights, happily taking up the nightshifts while you get proper rest, not letting you take more than needed.

Dad!Simon, who remembers how to change diapers after helping care for his late nephew, so there's no debate when the time comes to it and you're busy.

Dad!Simon, who talks to the kid like he would another grown person, like they'll understand or retain any of rants he shares "'M only sayin', Price keeps trustin' yer Uncle Johnny to handle the recruits, we're only gonna get a army of Johnny's and I can barely handle one as it is." *Baby makes a low noise or flails a tiny hand* "Y'know that's exactly what he did, toss a hand and gruff at me when I told 'im that, but 'M tellin' you, it's just gonna be a headache at the end of it."

Dad!Simon, who goes about the trouble of finding "excuses" to hang out with his own kid, always cooking or helping clean with them in his arms when he has the chance to, "Look at you, layin' about like yer gonna live rent free forever. Oh no, you and I are gonna do some work round the house together, start you early on how things are run here."

Dad!Simon, who, yes, does explain every recipe and chore to the baby. You're not quite sure if he's legitimate about it or it's for his own amusement, but he looks happy anyways.

[mactavishsgfandwife]

Dad!Simon Helps Your Daughter When She Falls Over :((

inspired by this ADORABLE instagram reel 💞💞💞

Your 3 year-old lets out a little gasp as she slips over on the ice and after a moment of shock, she starts to cry out. No words, just a stream of tears and wails of pain, frozen on her hands and knees, bare palms against freezing, snowy ground.

"Daddy!" she cries out, by which time her father is already knelt down at her side, "Dada!"

"Hey, baby," his usually gruff voice sounds soft and low as he gently strokes his daughter’s hair away from her tear-stained cheek, trying not to show how much it affects him to see her with big, sad eyes and so clearly in pain.

“Tell Daddy where you’re hurt.”

"M- m- my knees!" your little girl sobs, leaning into her father’s chest as he picks her up and cradles her in his arms, just as he did when she was younger.

Her bottom lip trembles, and she whimpers softly into Simon’s shirt, sniffling and covering him in tears. Her little hands are sore from the fall, and your husband takes both of them in one of his much bigger, stronger, rougher hands, his thumb gently caressing her knuckles.

"Let me see…" he gently rolls her trouser legs up to see her knees, which aren’t bloody but just a little sore and grazed from her fall. Taking care not to hurt her fragile skin, he leans closer and gently kisses her chubby toddler legs better. It looks funny, this big, scary man being so gentle and loving with a little girl in her pink raincoat, but he doesn’t care. Anything for his daughter.

"Need plaster, daddy!"

"You don’t need one, love, you’re not blee-" he looks down only to be met with her big, teary eyes and sad little pout, her tiny heart so sad not to be getting a plaster.

"Alright, y’get a plaster," he chuckles softly, giving her a tender kiss on the forehead, "you’re such a brave girl."

thanks for reading :P

[somnambuletta]

tangles and tactics

the bathroom is a battlefield.

not the bloody kind— not the kind he’s trained for. no, this one's got washable crayon streaked across the counter, a barbie face-down in the sink, and a rogue hairbrush that might actually be sentient at this point. simon riley, ghost, walking nightmare of a man with arms like reinforced scaffolding and a stare that’s made enemies piss themselves, is currently… very gently trying to detangle a knot the size of a small rodent out of his daughter's curls.

she’s sitting on the counter, knees pulled up, towel around her neck like a superhero cape, legs kicking the cabinet rhythmically with each second that passes. he swears it’s a timer.

“you’re pulling,” she says matter-of-factly, watching him in the mirror like a tiny manager. “don’t pull.”

“-’m not pulling,” he grunts. tug. “it’s… resistant.”

“you need the detangler spray.” she says it like it’s obvious. because it is. because of course it is. because she is five and already knows more about long hair than a man who’s shaved his head for over a decade.

simon exhales through his nose. mutters something about how “this never happens on the field” and “why are these elastics so bloody small,” but he reaches for the little pink spray bottle anyway. it’s got a unicorn on it. the unicorn is winking at him.

he spritzes. gently combs.

“tighter,” she says when he starts to braid. “no bumps.”

“-’m tryin', sweetheart, but your hair’s got a mind of 's own.”

“you’ve got big hands.” ... “you’ve got a big mouth.”

she gasps, scandalized. “daddy!”

he smirks. there it is—that little giggle, pure and bell-bright, and it just melts him. every time. it knocks him out more than any explosive ever could. he could be elbows-deep in glittery bathwater, or sitting cross-legged at a tea party with a tutu on over his joggers, and it’d still be the easiest mission he’s ever signed up for. because it’s her.

because when he finally wrangles the braids into something that kinda resembles what he’s seen on youtube— she turns her head side to side in the mirror, inspecting them with the seriousness of a field commander.

“they’re…” she squints. “okay.”

“only okay?” he lifts a brow.

she spins on the counter and throws her arms around his neck, towel and all. “they’re my favorite.”

simon freezes. then wraps her up like she’s the most fragile thing in the world, presses his nose into her curls, and murmurs, “mine too, baby. mine too.”

[cluelessatthispoint]

Dragon's Hoard: ch 11

(inspired by Blugiragi and Docdudo)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sensed him long before you saw him.

Ghost didn’t breathe the way the others did. Didn’t move, didn’t sigh, but he was there. Just at the edge of your vision. A shift in the shadows. A second weight in the silence.

He clung to the shadows and wore it like a second skin. Still and soundless, the kind of stillness that made your bones itch. Something primal in you knew not to look directly at him. But you did.

You turned. And instead of vanishing like a bad thought, he stood at the mouth of one of the side tunnels—half-consumed by flickering dark, half-revealed in the pulse of firelight. Watching.

When you turned, you expected him to vanish. Instead, he stood at the mouth of one of the side tunnels, cloaked in the flickering dark. Watching.

He said nothing.

As if he knew what happened yesterday with Soap still bothered you. It lingered in your mind like a never-ending nightmare. Shuddering at the memory, your eyes meet Ghost's for only the briefest moments. His silence spoke volumes. It screamed. You knew he knew. Knew about what had happened with Soap the day before. Knew how the memory still festered beneath your skin like an old bruise that wouldn’t fade.

Your breath caught. A single glance into the hollows of his mask, and it was like staring into an empty grave. A grave he very well might have crawled out of.

With your back to the cave wall, the feeling of solid rock against your spine almost burns from how cold it is. Your thin arms wrapped around your knees for warmth. The fire in the center crackled quietly, a low murmur of warmth and light against the cooler draft from deeper in the den. You didn’t look at him long. You’d grown used to the others filling every silence with noise, but Ghost never seemed to need sound. And strangely, that made him less unbearable to be around. Almost tolerable.

At least he wasn’t trying to touch you. Or talk. Or pretend to understand.

But that didn’t mean it was easy, either.

It wasn’t long before the quiet of the new day was broken, by Soap. the werewolf came bounding into the room. You heard him before you saw him— always did. His impressive claws clicking on stone, the slap of something soft, maybe a pelt being dragged across the floor.

“There you are!” he chirped, too loudly. His grin was sheepish, his ears pinned back like a dog that knew it had done something wrong but wasn’t sure what. And sure enough, there was a pelt being dragged by his side. But in his arms, he held something, almost tenderly. He was holding something—a little doll, maybe. Squinting, it takes a moment to makes sense of what he's holding. Rather than a doll, it looks more like a bundle of dried grass tied with bits of twine, knotted in places to suggest the shape of limbs and a head. “Made this for you. Look—see, it's even got a wee face on it.”

He crouched, holding the thing out like a peace offering. The smile on his face faltered as you just stared. The longer you stared, the more the hairs of his mohawk started to spike.

You didn’t want the doll. Not because it was ugly (though it was), or because it came from claws that had once curled too tight around your arms. But because it was too late. The damage was done. He didn’t understand what he’d done to upset you, not really. And that made the apology feel wrong. Like a not so well practiced performance.

Soap’s ears flicked nervously. “You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t ask for it,” you said softly, indignation curling in your stomach.

Soap blinked. You could see the sting in his cerulean eyes even as he tried to laugh it off. “Right. Of course. Just... thought it might help.”

You didn’t answer.

The silence thickened—until Price’s voice cut clean through it.

“Hatchling,” came the gravel-deep rumble, and Price emerged from the far tunnel, his one wing half-spread for balance as he ducked under a low arch of stone. His eyes were narrowed, not in anger, but in that assessing way dragons often looked at things they considered theirs. “Soap love, out of the way.”

Soap hesitated, then stepped aside with a huff, tail flicking. He muttered something under his breath you couldn’t quite catch.

Price settled in front of you with slow, heavy movements, like a mountain deciding to sit. His golden eyes studied you with practiced patience.

“You’ve been quiet.”

You said nothing.

“Can’t blame you,” he said. “What happened yesterday... shouldn’t have. Not like that.”

You stiffened. His tone was calm, but it curled uncomfortably in your gut. You didn’t want to talk about it. You especially didn’t want to understand him.

“I told Soap not to roughhouse with you. He doesn’t know his own strength. Thinks humans are made of bark and bone like he is.”

glaring, you send a steely gaze up at the dragon hybrid. Your expression a little sharper than intended.

Price’s brow lifted. “Fair enough.”

He shifted, then reached out, slow and deliberate, as if you were a skittish animal. His clawed hand didn’t touch you—but hovered just close enough to make your skin prickle.

“Let me show you something,” he said.

You didn’t move, but your silence was enough.

Price nodded once, then turned, gesturing for you to follow. Reluctantly, you did. Brushing off your knees with both hands as you rise to standing.

He led you to the edge of where the mouth of the cave just about opened to the world outside. Ghost lingered behind, silent as breath with Soap who could be heard whining in his thick accent.

“This,” Price said as he stopped beside a stone shelf tucked beneath a low overhang, “is where we teach.”

“Teach?” you echoed.

“Yes, to teach other. How to live in the same den without tearing each other’s throats out. Just far enough into the cave, and shallow enough to take advantage of the outside if needed." The walls etched with tooth marks, talon scratches and burnt marks.

“Ghost, Soap and Gaz, they learned how to deal with me. I learned how not to torch them when I’m pissed,” he said with a dry smile. “Now we’re going to learn how to live with you.”

You stared at the stones. They didn’t mean anything. Not to you. Not yet.

“I’m not part of your pack,” you said, voice low. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“No,” Price agreed, surprisingly gently. “But you’re still here. That makes you part of it—whether or not you think so.”

His words were meant to comfort. Instead, they curled around your ribs like vines, squeezing.

“You can’t just decide that.”

“I didn’t,” he said. “The others did. All of us did.”

He stepped back, giving you space, but his presence lingered like smoke in the lungs.

"I'm your Papa. We're your papa's now."

Then he said it.

The thing you didn’t want to hear. The thing you couldn’t un-hear.

Behind you, Soap shifted again, claws scraping softly on stone. Still holding the grass doll like a promise already broken. And Ghost—

Ghost hadn’t moved at all.

But the white of his mask burned like frost in the dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

here is chapter 11!!!!!!!!!!! I hope that you all enjoy it! With the requests now closed. I'll be getting to work and hopefully posting more regularly.

[gothghostiie]

HAIII! I love you're work soooo much! I had a little idea for you btw!

So imagine girl dad Simon and readers baby girl. They get her ears peirced and she crys HYSTERICALLY. (Bonus of reader feels so bad that they cry with her baby! :()

Remember to drink water and eat please! An apple a day keeps the doctor away!💗

thank you sm darling!! same for you, eat and stay hydrated <3

and I can so see that. poor little girl wanting and begging to have her ears pierced like mommy and daddy but she gets so scared:( shes sobbing as she sees the needle, clinging to her mom who starts crying too, in the end you need to sit on Simon's lap with her in your lap 😭

[urfavpillow-princess10]

Girl dad Simon riley.

Who when his daughter came home from school crying because a little boy in her class pulled her hair, he dressed in his militarily uniform and dropped her off at school the next day. Walking into the school with her. His massive frame towering over everyone, teachers and students. The little boy saw the little girl and instead of picking on her he looked up at Simon. His face immediately dropping realizing that was her dad. Oh the look in Simons eyes, the poor kid was lucky Simon couldn’t kill him.

A shorter one bc idk what to write recently and I’m tired😭

[sgrplumditz]

You had his baby and he didn't know (Pt. 2)

A/N: Thank you for all the positive feedback! I am so beyond grateful that you guys enjoyed the 1st part. I never fathomed to get this much attention from my first post, which means I didn’t really intend on making a part 2. But with such gratitude and motivation… here it is!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

She had told him everything, and through it all he did nothing but soothe her, keeping her small hands in his as her soft voice filled their ears. It wasn't until now that she had realized how absurd it was to feel nervous to tell him the story of her unaccompanied pregnancy, and her introduction to motherhood.

Like herself, he also held no resentment, or distaste toward the secrecy behind the conception and birth of their beautiful baby girl. Simon's only intention was to understand her and her decision to keep their child a secret from him, but in the midst of her reminiscent disclosure he couldn't help but feel alienated, guilty and a rollercoaster of many other emotions revolving her and his daughter.

His usually hard, and stoic gaze had softened for her -- which wasn't an unusual occurrence for him when it came to her, the mother of his child. "Hey, you're alright" he soothed when he noticed a stray tear race down her soft cheek. His thumb instinctively coming up to stop the salty drop of emotion in its track, and likewise she instinctively leaned into the feeling of his large hand that cupped the side of her face.

The moment was tender, intimate, comforting -- it was everything that she craved from him from the moment she found out she was carrying their child. Their baby girl seemed to be emotionally connected to her mother. The sound of her fuss and whimpering coming from the playpen where she had been placed to rest. Both her and Simon's attention was drawn to the infant the moment her restful cooing was replaced with the sounds of discomfort. Her mother knew that she was most likely hungry, but her father, Simon seemed to only be alarmed by the sudden crying. It was evident that his protective nature had taken over -- a quality of his that could not be tamed or ever be put to rest.

"She's just hungry, Si" she spoke, breaking the silence between the two. The melancholy aura of the room immediately being lifted as she chuckled softly at his high alert behavior as it only reminded her of the first few nights that she was home from the hospital with her daughter.

As she normally would she gently picked up their daughter, making sure to keep a firm hand on the back of her neck to support it. Her maternal nature was in full effect as she spoke sweet and soft words to the baby girl. Her cries being soothed, and her simple mind now distracted at the sight and sound of her mother. Simon watched this all divulge in front of him. He didn't know whether his heart ached because he had missed hundreds of moments like these or if he felt such sorrow because he didn't share the same bond with the tiny being that he helped create.

He let his the thoughts and endless "'what if" possibilities consume his mind while she prepared a bottle with the infant still resting in her arm. She was small, measuring out the length of her mother's forearm. Normally she would make the bottle with ease, but as time went by and the baby girl grew, the process slowed down. She was careful and calculated making sure that the baby was always safe in her arms.

"I can take her if you're alright with it" spoke Simon in a mildly nervous tone. “It’d make it easier for you to prepare her bottle, yeah?” he spoke again, using the feeding time as an excuse to finally hold their daughter. But he was nervous? Simon doesn’t get nervous. He has always been incredibly calm and collected to the point of mastering stoicism. He wasn’t nervous to hold the infant — that was the less of his worries.

There were so many special events that he had missed while he was away. Core memories that he doesn’t have with her or her mother. He missed the pregnancy, the first kicks, the birth, the first powerful cries from her little lungs, the first feed from her mother’s full and lactating breasts, the first skin-to-skin contact —which he read was essential for bonding in newborns, the dad walk out of the hospital after being discharged as a family — the one where he knew his overprotective nature would automatically take over.

So many factors playing into the aggregation of his nerves, but there was a single one that was keeping him on edge the most. Simon was nervous that he wouldn’t be able to bond with the small and fragile being that shared half of his DNA. Being absent for so many critical events made him doubtful in his ability to be and feel like a genuine father. All of his nerves dwindling down and relying on this very moment.

But none of it mattered. The pessimistic thoughts that lingered in his brain practically disintegrating. As if the warmth of his daughter’s small body destroyed every doubtful fiber in his own. She was no longer just his biological daughter, but a part of him. His soul was tied to hers, his emotions was connected to hers, his breath was for her. His entire being was engulfed by her.

The baby adjusted herself in his broad, tattooed and muscular arm by leaning her small face into his chest, as if she sensed some sort of familiarity in him. Like mother like daughter.

She watched their entire interaction curiously. She saw his hardened exterior breakdown at the moment their daughter’s infant body fit into his arm like a puzzle piece. It was obvious. Just like she felt her daughter was made for her, she was just as equally made for him. The instant connection between the father and daughter was electric. This was everything she had wanted and more.

She always knew Simon would be a great father — he was a great guy after all — he was attentive, protective, polite, masculine, and so much more, but she never fathomed that it would have been as magnifying as she felt it to be.

Simon’s gaze turned to her and she swore she saw his eyes glistening, tears threatening to spill. No words were exchanged between the two, but she knew exactly what he was feeling and thinking. As their daughter’s mother, she felt those exact emotions as well.

She was then engulfed by his scent. His arms embracing the two most important girls in his life, but it was not just a typical embrace of joy — it was firm, passionate and filled with urgency. He needed them.

With their daughter still resting in his arm, he used his free hand to remove a stray strand of hair from her face before he firmly cupped it. A soft kiss landing on her forehead.

He pressed his forehead to hers and exhaled softly before breaking the silence, “I am so proud of you” he said — his english accent thick and correlating respectively with how emotional he was.

“I am so proud of you” he repeated again, “but you are never doing anything like this alone. We do it together. As a family”.

[maskedmenmakemeferal]

Daddy Daughter day

As you and Simons daughter -Lily- gets older, the more he mourns how she was when she was young. She was all bright eyed and would cling to Simon every change she could.

But now, she’s 14 and that once close relationship is crumbling away.

Now, it’s not like she’s a bad kid. She gets good grades and is always respectful to you two. She’s just…..not as eager to hang out with Simon.

After another Friday night of her hanging out with her friends, Simon’s at home stewing.

There’s a rerun of Lily and his favorite movie and now he’s too pissy to enjoy it. He’s grumbling something along the lines of ‘Im too sad to watch it’.

You roll your eyes and smile. “Si. You know Lily loves to spend time with you. Just not like how she used to.”

“‘Ts bullshit, birdie. She doesn’t even want to go to car shows w’ me.”

“She never wanted to. She hated going to those, but she knew it made you happy.”

He furrows his blonde eyebrows in disbelief. ‘No way.’ He thinks. ‘His best memories with his daughter couldn’t be due to her wanting to please him.’

“Come on, Si. You just need to do stuff that appeals to 14 year old Lily, not 7 year old Lily.” You gently rub his shoulders.

So, that’s how he ended up at the mall with Lily, 200£ and a goal to spend time with his daughter.

She flits around from store to store, blabbering about the things in them.

Simon couldn’t care less, but now it’s time for him to suck it up and deal with his boredom.

They eventually end up at the food court and he gets some pretzels. He hands one to Lily, who chose a table towards the back.

Eventually, after a few minutes of awkward silence, they see a poster for their favorite movie from when she was a kid.

Standing right in front of it are her friends. She looks away, worried they’d spot her hanging out with her dad.

“Wha’s wrong?” Simon squints a bit, knowing she’ll try to bullshit him.

“Nothin’. Jus’ thought I saw someone I knew.” Simon looks over at her friends.

“Worried they’d see you with your ol’ man, eh?” Even though his voice sounds joking, it isn’t. He is really hurt over feeling like an embarrassment to his kid.

“No, no. It’s just….their dads are kind of…..pricks. And I don’t want them to be upset I have such a cool one.”

Simon can tell she’s fucking with him on this. Sure, he’s met her friends dads and they are kind of assholes, but he definitely isn’t cool.

“If ya’ so embarrassed ‘bout hanging out with me, go.” He gets up and walks away. People move away from his fuming form like he’s on fire.

He gets a ticket for that movie, a last ditch effort to remind him of a simpler time. He sits down, crossing his arms and having a small pout on his lips.

The cheesy comedy movie begins and it doesn’t help. He still feels like an asshole. He knows he got a bit sensitive about Lily not wanting to hang out with him and he became a dick.

30 minutes into the movie, someone opens the door and comes in. It’s Lily with tears rolling down her cheeks.

She sits down a few seats away, clearly not knowing what to do to make it right. But Simon knows she’s trying. He moves a seat closer, and so does she, until eventually their next to eachother.

“‘M sorry you think ‘m embarrassed of you.” She sniffles and whispers.

“‘M sorry I made you feel like a dick for growing up.” He wraps a burly arm around her and gently hugs her tight.

They watch the movie, talking about how shitty the quality is and how predictable the ending is.

But, this is Simons new favorite memory.

Why?

Because. His baby girl is finally spending time with him again.

And that’s perfect to him.

[obsessivelullabies]

being simon riley’s housewife: pregnancy!

part one.

— when you first told simon you were pregnant, he had to sit down. he was feeling so many emotions; joy, anxiety, infatuation. mainly, he was overjoyed he’d gotten the love of his life pregnant. to him, it was almost like the final way to solidify your bond.

— he soon wrapped you up in his arms and gently kissed your forehead, immediately his hand wandered down to your belly, despite it being flat at the time. this became a habit.

— the first few weeks, he started becoming overly protective and worrisome. “.. you sure you can eat that with the baby?”, “what if somethin’ happened to ‘em in there?” and most commonly, “you feelin’ ok, lovie?”.

— he is at your beck and call. you’re up early throwing up? he’s up holding your hair and rubbing your back. you want takeout? course, what do you want? you want a foot rub? ok. anything for you.

— simon’s whole day revolves around you and pampering you. he’s always looming in the background. you’ll probably have to beg him to leave the house alone.

— as you progress into your pregnancy, his worrying only gets worse. he worries about being a good father. he doesn’t feel ready. yet, when he looks at you, he feels everything will be okay.

— when he’s not deployed he’s at every doctor’s appointment. he keeps a sonogram of the baby in his wallet, alongside a photo of you.

— even during sex, he’s much more gentle than usual. as if he’s terrified he’ll harm you or the baby. this is something you have to gently reassure him about.

— simon absolutely adores it when your belly gets all swollen. he loves go rub his hands on it and kiss it. he constantly tries to feel for kicks or any movement.

— when it comes to baby names, he isn’t picky at all. he’s fine with almost anything. after all, you’re the one carrying it, so he’s indifferent.

— as you go through labor, he’s nervously holding your hand and trying his best to silently be supportive no matter if you curse him, the nurses or the doctor. whatever you need, he understands.

— the moment simon got to hold his healthy, sweet baby, he felt like he fell in love all over again. he glanced between you and the baby. his heart swelled. he knew he had a family with you, something he’d lost years ago.

bonus : simon would be ecstatic if you allowed him to name your baby girl after his late mother. he’d smile to himself, the terrible memory of his mother’s passing becoming a sweet name of remembrance. [if this makes no sense, read his backstory!]

masterlist. | requests are open!

[sunflwrapple]

[Ghost retired from military and now is a father, he adopted a child, the child ⇒ you]

Simon, reading newspapers :

Kid!Y/N : dad! Dad!

Simon : what is it, little bee?

Kid!Y/N, struggling to climb up on the armchair : what do you used to work as, before you retired? :O

Simon : *doesn’t want to tell them that he used to be in the military*

Simon : well… I used to hunt aliens

Kid!Y/N, giggling, showing off a missing tooth : aliens don’t exist, silly!

Simon, smiling : have you ever seen an alien?

Kid!Y/N : ……no 🫢

Simon, gently pinching ur cheek : you’re welcome

[sleepyeepyp3rson]

boydad!simon riley

an: this is HEAVILY inspired by @whateveriwant and their girl dad simon headcanons, if you find this alright, you should totally go read theirs!!!

(masterlist)

Simon Riley who teaches your son "real football" but lets your kid win every time, regardless if he played by the rules or not.

Simon Riley who rough houses with your son, and is totally fine with being used as a jungle gym.

Simon Riley who makes time to go to everything your son does, from parent night to performances or sports games. But feels terrible when he can't make it.

Simon Riley who would never tell your son not to wear makeup or pursue theater. The same goes for anything else that's traditionally not "for guys." He couldn't care less as long as he's not hurting anyone.

Simon Riley who tells the worst dad jokes on purpose just to annoy you and your son, and if he joins his dad in the jokes, Simon's ecstatic.

Simon Riley who texts your son everyday once he moves out, and sends him those awful minon memes to annoy him.

Simon Riley who doesn't care who his son loves, his son better be treating them like royalty. Simon would also treat them like family immediately but would give them the "don't hurt my little boy" talk.

[mactavishsgfandwife]

Dad!Simon Takes Your Daughter Swimming 🧸

i’ve started taking adult swimming lessons recently because i literally forgot how to swim 😭 it’s so fun tho and i’m good at it now that i’ve jogged my memory pure fluff! just simon being a good daddy (i love him as a girl dad it just makes sense)

Walking out of the changing rooms, you hold your daughter’s hand at the edge of the swimming pool, looking about for her father who seems to be taking his sweet time getting his trunks on. For the mean time, you focus on controlling your hyper little girl. Her hair bounces over her shoulders as she jumps up and down excitedly in her pink kiddie wetsuit - almost giving you a heart attack every time she makes a sudden movement, for fear that she’ll slip. In that anxious state, a tall, military man wrapping a strong hand around your waist almost makes you cry out from shock.

"Hello, love," he tries to hide his chuckle at how he made you jump, planting a soft kiss on your temple.

"God, Si, you scared me!" you laugh, still a little breathless, as his toddler starts to whine and tug your hand towards the pool, her arms somewhat restricted by her small yellow armbands.

"Hey, relax," he whispers into your ear softly, taking a moment to calm your anxieties. Oh, and he thinks he’s being smooth and subtle when he checks you out, but he’s definitely not - not that you care. When he sees your tensed shoulders gently start to ease up, he lifts the baby up into the air and steps down into the pool with her, making her shriek in joy. You giggle to yourself, silently noting how your husband chose not to wear that plain black tshirt. He almost always reaches for it when you go swimming, in an attempt to hide his scary scars from the little kids and to retain some of the comfort that he finds in covering himself - the same comfort he finds in his mask. But today, he was just in his trunks, and you couldn’t help but appreciate the sight of his warm, broad back as he held your little daughter on her tummy in the shallow end, encouraging her to "kick!" and "swim to daddy, sweetheart."

With one hand on your stomach, you gently lower yourself down the pool ladder - your back faced away from it to give your (still small) pregnant stomach some room to breathe. Watching you slowly descend into the pool, Simon lifts your three year old up onto his chest so that her chubby cheek is squished against his shoulder, and swims over to you. The little girl babbles and kicks her soft legs, convinced that it will help them move faster, making simon chuckle and plant a little kiss on her forehead before he stops next to you.

"Y’okay?" a firm but gentle hand supports your lower back as you finally land your feet on the bottom of the pool. When you’re down, that same hand wraps further around your back to lightly caress your stomach, the baby in Si’s arms still babbling and trying to swim away like a mermaid (she can’t actually swim).

"’Course I am," you grin, spirit lifted by your family and by the way the water supports your belly, taking some of the pressure off of your tender body.

"Daddy’s been teaching you how to swim, has he?" you let your body float, Simon still holding both of his girls close to him in the water.

"Can swim! I can swim! Swim!" your little girl squeals, her energy shining through her purple goggles, that would leave little rings around her eyes for a few hours after she took them off

"You gonna show Mummy how well you can swim..?" your husband grins. He gently loosens his grip around her, his hands never actually leaving her sides but still not restricting her freedom of movement.

With her new-found freedom, your daughter starts to giggle and kick her legs, chubby arms flailing and splashing water everywhere.

"Swim!” she squeals, wriggling and kicking, simon gently nudging her back upright when she loses her balance, "can swim! Daddy, can swim!"

"That’s right, baby," Simon coos, a little smile growing on the face that’s typically so rugged and serious. He’s so proud. <33

i hope this was up to standard! tysm for all the love on the last dad!si post!!! i want to do my next one on her falling over (inspired by this video) bc omg imagine him cuddling his little girl and kissing her knee better 😣😣😣

thanks for reading!!

@minimimmies as promised x

[somnambuletta]

tea party gone tactical

aka: simon riley, code name: daddy

there’s glitter in the creases of his knuckles. plastic rings on every finger, tea stains on his jeans, and a tiara— pink, crooked— sitting proud atop his buzzed hair. simon riley, six-foot-something slab of elite military steel, has just been declared princess cupcake the third, ruler of the sugar kingdom. and he has orders to attend high tea at precisely four o’clock sharp.

he obliges. obviously.

the living room has been transformed into chaos of the most devastating kind—childhood imagination. there’s a tablecloth made from an old baby blanket, plastic saucers balanced on top of hardcover books, plushies seated like dignitaries from rival kingdoms. one has an eyepatch. another wears his sock. a stuffed unicorn has a crayon drawn scar and a tactical vest made of paper.

across from him, on her little purple beanbag throne, his daughter beams. two missing teeth. a feather boa dragging on the floor. she pours lukewarm apple juice into tiny cups, careful, careful, tongue poking out in concentration. simon watches like it’s a mission briefing. she finishes with a flourish.

“sir cupcake, would you like sugar?” she says, all posh and prim and nearly squeaking with excitement.

he nods solemnly. “two lumps. gotta keep my energy up.”

she plunks invisible sugar into his cup with a spoon the size of her hand. simon pretends to sip. “delicious,” he says, setting the cup down with exaggerated grace. “might be the best cuppa i’ve ever had, actually.”

“better than mummy’s?” she asks, eyes wide, clearly testing boundaries.

he leans in, whispers behind one big, calloused hand, “don’t tell 'er, but yeah. loads better.” she giggles—full, bubbly, from-the-gut giggles—and his heart pulls like a parachute cord mid-fall. she moves on to the cupcakes—half crumbled fairy cakes from the corner bakery you brought home last night, now decorated with more sprinkles than frosting. she smashes one into a napkin, offering it like a truce treaty.

“thank you, commander sprinkle,” he says, accepting the mashed sugar bomb and taking a heroic bite.

“you’re welcome,” she says, eyes shining. “you’re the bravest daddy in the kingdom!”

something warm knots in his chest. not the cupcake— he could take five more of those—but the way she looks at him, like he built the sky with his hands and tucks the stars in at night.

simon clears his throat, glances down at his ring-bedazzled fingers, the glitter on his arms, the juice in his lap. “…i'd go to war for you, y’know.”

she nods solemnly, not entirely sure what that means—but knowing it’s important.

then she picks up her pink plastic walkie-talkie and presses the button. “monster in the hallway. repeat, monster in the hallway! might be mummy coming to check if we ruined the carpet..”

simon stands, dramatically brushing invisible crumbs off his lap. he adjusts his tiara. lifts his plush unicorn with military precision. “on it, commander.”

and then, he charges out of the room, bare feet thudding against the floor, in search of the ‘monster’—glitter trailing behind him like smoke from a flare.

[writingoddess1125]

Over Achiever

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x FemReader

This is just Corny Corn Fluff!

Enjoy!

Next Part >>>

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Sitting on your couch you stared at the stack of papers before you in total shock- it was suppose to be a simple checkup.. not something like this.

You especially felt unsure since your husband wasn't here- He should have been here for something as important as this.. However his missions were important for the world- That and its what you signed up for when you married Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

You and Simon had been married for 3 years and dated for nearly 5 before then, Meeting at a resturant you owned when he showed up during leave to grab some take away. That was the humble start to a beautiful and gentle relationship the two of you shared.

You two had every conversation in the book about what you both expected in life and what the plans were.. This however was not one of them..

"Fuck- I've got to tell him.."

It was still a good month out till he returned and didn't use his phone while out on missions so you knew it was off in his pocket- he needed to know however.. so you figured a letter would be fine- it would be a cute and easiest way so he wasnt surprised with a heart attack when he got home and saw you like that... jumping to your feet you grab the car keys quickly and rushed to the closest store and then the post office- How bad could it be anyway?

WEEK LATER

On the other side of the world Ghost leaned against an outdoor wall, they were just back from their latest mission and had a cool down before the next one.

He missed you- terribly.. he missed his home and truthfully didn't want to be sweating his arse off when he could be with you. It surprised him in truth, before he used missions to escape the idea of a home- However now he was excited to return home... to you.

Simon was still highly secretive however so no one knew he was married, besides Price who had been invited to the wedding. He had to protect you, his little slice of sunshine in a overall dark life.

"Riley, you've got a letter" Price called out snapping the man from his thoughts, Ghost surprised to hear this- He never really got mail even from you since he insisted it was emergency only to avoid any information leaks.

Stepping forward quickly he grabbed the pale blue envelope- Soap now also curious as he peaked at his Lieutenant.

"Oh? Someone special?" Soap teased, however curiosity burning in his gaze.

Rolling his eyes Ghost opened the letter and saw a tiny plain card, a spike of anxiety hitting his chest as he slowly opened the card and felt the air suddently sucked directly from his lungs.

The team watched Ghost eyes widen like big blue saucers, worry now blanketing the group as Ghost closed the card and then opened it again like to confirm.

"Eh, Lieutenant?.. You alright there?" Soap said softly as he stepped forward to touch the man's shoulder. Price and Gaz also getting closer to see if the masked man was okay-

"Y-Yes I'm fine.. move" He grunted out, the men stepping back as Ghost went to step forward before passing out misstep and falling into the dirt.

"Holy Fuck!!" They all yelled as Ghost fashionably face planted into the dirt and Soap and Gaz scrambling to help the man to his legs which had seemed to suddently turn to jello- Ghost wobbling up as his mass seemed to suddently be too much for him, dropping the paper into the dirt which Price quickly scooped up to keep from getting damaged.

"Take him to the medical bay" Price said quickly as they could hear Ghost muttering something about a van and other random shit- worried their hardened killer had finally lost his mind as they dragged him off to the medbay.

Price holding the card in hand and cracking open to take a peak at what just laid out his Lieutenant-

Congratulations!

You Over Achiever!

Si I'm pregnant and they are triplets!

You over achieving Ass-!!!

I love you and can't wait to see you home!

- Love (Y/N) ♡

The ultrasound picture with the clearly labeled 1,2,3 in red over the black and white images. Price couldnt help but crack a smile and chuckle softly as he closed the card- Looking as he saw Ghost still being rushed to the medical bay.

"I'll be damned-"

A tiny cornerstore card had knocked out one of the world's best solders.