#ghoap dads

[divine-draws]

POV you knock on the Riley-MacTavish door and get greeted with this (originally posted on my ko-fi)

[mactavishenjoyer]

(wedding planning)

Soap:"your dad? Duh."

Ghost:"He's dead."

Soap:"Oh my fucking god he Is literally right there. I don't care if Price and you got in a fight he's still your dad and I want him in our wedding."

Price:"I- I'm not his dad?"

Soap:

Gaz:"Bullshit."

Roach:"Biggest damn lie I've heard all month."

Soap:"Womp Womp, you're not getting out of the wedding."

[mrjeremyman]

RAT DAD GHOST!!! HE HAS MANY RATS THEY’RE HIS FAMILY!!!

Phillip: absolute trouble maker, will escape and will cause chaos. Has to be separated from the group sometimes because he will start fights.

Gregory: Polite and gentle young lad, loves his berries. Ghost tends to let first time rat handlers hold him first to get a feel as Gregory isn’t fussy.

Ivo: Most skittish but over all nice. Never bites, will go bald soon.

Toms: most energetic and curious rat, is usually the one scrapping with Phillip. Fussy eater, might bite of feeling moody. But on a good day, very happy to get pets and to be held. Might run away if too excited.

I love them. So much.

[risetherivermoon]

Soap asks Price for his blessing before proposing to Ghost, and Price is just like: "What? I'm not his dad."

Soaps like: "Youre not?"

and when Soap retells the story to Ghost at the actual reception Ghost furrows his brow and goes: "Wait he isnt?"

[pfhwrittes]

i can't get the thought of simon calling johnny "our johnny" out of my head.

it's such a northern thing to do. it's such a normal thing for him to think in the privacy of his own head where he doesn't have to soften his nasal manchester accent or hide away the linguistic markers that make the brass bristle or recruits snigger.

but he's never said it out loud to anyone because when he thinks "our johnny" what he really means is "my johnny". and that's not a thought he can share with anyone.

[meowmeowriley]

"Why'd the soldier run into the demo site before it went down?"

Soap sighed, throwing a long suffering glance to his Lieutenant. He shifted his grip on his rifle. He could pretend he didn't hear the man but... either morbid curiosity or masochism won out. He wasn't sure which. "Why?"

"To C-4 himself."

"Awful."

"More?"

"As if you'd stop if I said 'no'." Years of practice kept a smile off his face. In all the time Soap had known Ghost, the man's sense of humor had remained steadfastly terrible.

Their unit advanced. Ghost and Soap were in the lead, spread far enough to need comms to talk, but close enough to signal one another if need be. Their men fanned out behind them.

"You hear 'bout the microwave incident on base?" Ghost's voice had taken on an ethereal quality.

Glancing over again, Soap spared a moment to admire the other man's silhouette against the muted orange glow filtering through the trees. He deftly stepped over branches and around trees. Rifle at the ready. Always ready.

Soap had missed this. Missed him. Missed them.

Soap hadn't blown up a microwave for fun in much too long. He hadn't had time, too desperate to fix things. Things were fixed. He'd need to change that when they got back. "Go on."

"Lost two kernels in a popcorn explosion."

"Tragic. Your jokes are painful, Lt."

"I'm just warming up."

Good. "That's a worrying statement."

"'Fraid of a good time, Johnny?"

"Afraid your jokes'll be the death of me."

"You could only hope so."

Trees and branches created illusory enemies as the trudged through the wood, but their trained eyes and steel nerves kept their small platoon from panicking. Sure-footed, they kept searching.

Soap offered one of his own. "What do you call an officer who spends too much time at the head?"

"What?"

"A loo-tenant."

"Not bad." A pause, Soap had just begun to soak in the praise when Ghost continued. "Not good either."

"Fucker. Yours're no better."

"I'm much better."

You are. "Keep telling yourself that."

"Why's there no winning a war with zombies?"

"Ghost." Soap's warning fired off nearly unbidden. He didn't like where this joke was headed. Behind him he heard one of his men misstep, a twig snapping. Perhaps the cause of his warning had been mistaken.

"Cause it's dead even."

"No. Too topical, Ghost. Don't like that one."

Minute crackling from the smoldering world around them filled the uncomfortable silence that followed his outburst.

"Lighten up, Johnny." Easy for him to say.

"I'll try, Sir."

"Heard the Navy is the most religious military branch. 'Parently they love a good warship."

***

Why did they have to use comms? Why did they have to keep that thing around?

The Sergeant was a freak, but at least he was still human. Still alive.

"Hnnnnnnggggrrrrrrraaaaahh." The fucking monster that had once been their Lieutenant moaned, scratchy and split. It traveled through the smoke unnaturally, fraying the nerves of the men it led.

"Go on."

"Rrrrrah arrrrrrrrnnnnnn."

"Tragic. Your jokes are painful, Lt."

It still moved like a man, from a distance you'd never know.

But the sounds. Why did they keep it? It was one of them.

"Eyuhm. Mruuuuaaammm."

"That's a worrying statement."

Why the hell did the fucking thing moan into comms? Why did the Sergeant respond like it was talking? Why did they all have to pretend they weren't being led to their deaths by a fucking Zombie and a mutant who'd lost his mind?

"No. Too topical, Ghost. Don't like that one."

MacTavish's snap quieted the monster for a moment. Holy shit he could breath again.

"Ahhmff. Ohnneeee."

"I'll try, Sir."

The beast began to moan again, it floated back to them, broken bloodied nails against his nerves. It crackled through their comms. It was destroying him. "I can't fucking take this anymore!"

Both freaks rounded on him. He leveled his gun at the former Lieutenant.

"Corporal Evans, what the fuck?" Sergeant MacTavish snarled. Green eyes mutely glowing.

"That fucking thing keeps moaning. He's dead, he's one of them! Why are we pretending he isn't?"

The Sergeant was moving before Evans could even blink. Evans fired off a shot but it went wide, nowhere near his target, as the Sergeant laid hands on him.

Green smoke emanated from the mutant, eyes glowing fiercely as he threw Evans into a tree and held him there. Pain in his collar bone and a loud crack told him it had been broken.

The Sergeant barked something at him, but his ears were ringing too loudly and his mind was clouded. He must've hit his head against the tree.

***

"Heard a shot, boys. Report."

"Evans lost his damn mind and took a shot at Ghost." Soap spat. He was ready to rip the Corporal limb from limb, the traitor would deserve it.

"He hit?"

A hand landed on his shoulder. A bloodied skeleton print glove, missing the ring finger and revealing grayed flesh and blood caked under the nail.

Toxic green met milky white. Ghost's eyes still conveyed such intense emotions. He was worried about the shot and yelling giving away their position. He was feigning indifference to being targeted. He was angry about Soap losing his head.

"Ohnee. Rauhghh."  Ghost's voice echoed within Soaps mind as well. 'Johnny. Cool it.'

"Ghost's fine. Shot missed."

"Hhhnnnnaowww."

Soap rolled his eyes and dutifully translated for the others. "Apparently I just broke Evans's collar bone."

Price grunted before ordering. "Right. Bring him back in one piece, he'll be dealt with later."

Two of the others had stepped up. Zip-cuffs and duct tape in hand. There'd be no more outbursts from Evans, then.

"He probably got heated because you're not translating for us, Soap. I'm missin' his comedy gold." Gaz piped up.

Ghosts exposed mouth was one of the benefits to his condition, he refused to use a different mask since the incident. His slack, broken jaw didn't stop him from smiling.

"Hnnh hnnhh huaaaaaarrrrrnnnnnghuhh."

Soap closed his eyes and centered himself. Things had been so touch and go for so long. Theyd kept Ghost caged because they didn't know they could still trust him. No one could hear him. When The Director had offered to change that, in exchange for Soap participating in a few experiments, he'd jumped on it. Hearing the man in his own mind now, he could never regret it. Even if the damn respirator on his face could never be removed.

" 'Picasso used to drive a tank. Was known for art-illery.' Sure you want me to keep translating?"

"Terrible, Sir."

"Fucking hell, Simon, that was bad."

A few of the men around them laughed or chuckled. None would look either officer in the eye though.

"I was trying to save you all." Soap said before taking his position back up and letting his men handle Evans.

They resumed their advance through the smoldering wood.

[miwsolovely]

dad!ghoap au | ghoap x gn!reader

what could be

tw: suggestive themes of you squint just a little bit …

a/n: unedited … enjoy the crumbs dee !! wrote this in one ish sitting be proud of me

They’re here.

Of course they are, this is where they live, it’s cozy and domesticated, and intimate. You’re in their house, in their kitchen. Their daughter is sleeping upstairs.

You look at the man in the doorway. All too big and all too broad, taking up the height of the door. “Mr. Riley, how are—”

“Simon.” He says. He steps up to you and you find yourself taking one back, not ready to face this Goliath of a man. Not yet. “Call me Simon, love.”

Your mouth opens and closes expecting words to escape but none surface. If you were underwater, bubbles would be flying out your mouth, words upon words upon words trapped in them, floating up to the surface and popping before reaching the outside world.

You swallow a thick lump down your throat and look away from him, at anything but him. The cute, messy drawings of a family strewn across the fridge, perched in frames on the kitchen island, the set of keys in a bowl. The wet jacket that was just added to the coat hanger. “Mr. Riley,”

He places a large hand on your waist, almost where your hips curve and right where your heart pounds.

His deep voice sent vibrations from where his hand is placed all throughout your body, stopping air in your lungs, stopping your heart and then pumping it all by himself. “You don’t like to obey, do you pet?”

You let out a shaky exhale and try to keep your eyes from meeting his. His that evoke luminosity. Eyes that like the earth, hold mysteries in its depths, mysteries that you wish to pull from his deep caves and unknown mysteries and shine them with a blinding light. “I’m not—this is. . .”

“This is what?” He breaths, placing his thumb and forefinger on your chin with the gentlest of touches, the type of gentleness that he only graced with Johnny and Teddy. Now you. He guides your face towards his and you catch the gaze of his soft eyes.

“This—this isn’t right, it’s not—” You stammered, placing your hand on his, the one on your waist, the one that fit like it belonged there. The one that has his wedding ring on it.

“‘S not right?” He teased. Thumb playing with the fabric that wrinkled at your hip. Sending shivers that shook you to your absolute core.

Your breath shallows. “It’s not,” you think for a moment, removing your hand from where his is placed so delicately. “professional.”

“Oh really?” His eyes squint as he smiles. He smiles and it nearly sends you into cardiac arrest, nearly sends you plunging into his deep brown eyes in search for something, anything that could stop you from this, this bad idea.

You take two steps back, his hands falling off your skin live waves on sand. In response he takes one closer to you. You already miss the warmth of his palms on your skin.

“Mr. Riley—”

He says your name in response.

“Mr.—”

He places both his hands back on the dip of your waist. Back where they belong, your subconscious thinks. Firm and grounding. You suck in air as if it’s the last you’ll ever breathe.

“S-Simon,” You breathe and he smiles a smile that warms your heart. A smile that is only supposed to warm Johnny’s and Teddy’s hearts. Not yours. “This, your—your husband is—��

He shushes you. “My husband is the one that proposed the idea of us.”

Us? Johnny wants you? Is okay with the three of you, together?

You ignore his confession. “Your—your daughter is upstairs and,”

He takes another step forward when you take one back and his palms stay planted where they are.

You take one step back, not two.

One, because you felt the familiar heat of a particular man behind you. One, because if you took another, God himself couldn’t bring you back to the land of the living. The land of these two men.

“Upstairs an’ sleepin’ Bonnie.” A pair of gentle hands find their home on your hips, right below Simon’s. “Ye needn’t worry.”

You forget to breathe when between these two. Feel your heart clenching and your muscles tensing in want when you feel Johnny’s front press against your back, Simon just a hair away.

His nose presses against yours softly and you can feel Johnny’s soft lips on the side of your neck placing butterfly kisses on your skin.

You look up at the man before you, the man who forgets his glasses are atop his head most everyday, the man who smiles bright just for his daughter, the married man, whose husband is right behind you, whose daughter is, completely unaware.

“You. . .” You whisper. “You’re married.”

“Not officially,” Johnny confesses. When he speaks you can feel the tickle of his stubble on your neck and the repeated featherlight kisses delicately placed on your jaw. “We want ye, hen. Know that. Yer special to us. To Teddy.”

You feel Simon’s forehead gently bump against yours, redirecting your focus from the names spelt on the fridge to him and Johnny.

You’re special to us.

It feels like a thousand ton weight is pressing on your heart. Rich blood not able to access your brain making you start to feel dizzy, your hearing ringing in your ears. You’re dizzy from the spell they unknowingly put on you, a spell that makes you feel like you’re hallucinating when you feel one of Johnny’s hands travel low until it rests on your stomach, slipping underneath your shirt and pressing you further into him.

You close your eyes, biting harshly on your lip, enough to create a crescent indent in your lip, crimson bleeding out ever so gently, you do this so you can try to ignore the pulsing heat you can feel press against your ass. The heat of hands all over your body, soft but strong all the same.

“Kiss me.”

Your eyes snap open and you feel your breath catch in your throat. “What?” You mutter, your voice box barely able to form the notes to sing this little song they’re stringing out of you.

“He’s givin’ ye a choice Bonnie.” Johnny assures from behind you. Hands pawing at your hips slowly.

You swallow your dignity. “You’re not giving me a way out,” you counter, trying to twist your neck to meet Johnny’s eyes, but Simon’s hand on your jaw turns it back do you face him again.

Simon reaches up and swipes his thumb on your lower lip. He does it painfully slow so you can feel it. Feel the pain of your lip so you feel not even a fraction of the pain him and Johnny feel wherever you look their way and disappear among the crowd. “Do you want a way out?”

You blink away the fogginess that they guide over you and feel your blood run hot in your veins.

The rational part of you scoffs, but the you in control, the real you, internally smiles in joy. You feel yourself leaning up to Simon and you reach a hesitant hand to the side of his face. Simon meets you halfway and you feel along the jagged scar that raised skin on his jaw.

Two waves colliding in the vast expanse of the sea; thats what it feels like. Time standing still as you lost yourself in the way Johnnys hands felt on your skin, the way his lips felt against your neck and jaw. You imagine the salty breeze mingling with the sweetness of your kiss. All three of your hearts beat in harmony, echoing the rhythm of the ocean’s waves.

Johnny grunts and starts an assault on your neck, biting and creating marks that you find yourself wishing that they’ll last forever.

With a gentle smile, Simon parted from your lips and chuckled when he saw how your lips sought after his, the way Johnny’s lips stuck to your neck until he pulled him away with a gentle hand on his jaw. The warmth of your kiss was lingering in the air like a gentle caress.

You pressed your lips together and ran your tongue over your bottom lip, the sweet liquid of your blood melting on your tongue. You suddenly felt parched and your mouth felt dry. The effect of their spell.

You breathed out a heavy exhale and glanced up at Simon once more.

Your mouth was opening and closing, not knowing what to say, how to say it, how to say anything.

You took another deep breath and you’re sure they both felt it through your shirt. Through your skin. “. . . Us?”

Simon’s eyes brightened and Johnny pressed a long kiss near your ear.

“Wake up.” He whispers; and with a gentle kiss caressing your neck, they’re gone.

You come to on a groggy groan, bringing your hands to your face and wiping away the remnants of your dream; your unconscious wish.

You scoff and wipe away the tears stinging your eyes. “What am I doing? “Us” my ass.”

It had been a few months, a few months of longing looks and confessions left untold, and suggestive hand placement that you forced yourself not to dwell on.

That stupid dream; showing you, tempting you, with what you want and ripping it away from your clutched hands.

The remains of of it clung to your consciousness, begging to be made reality.

If it was reality, it would have been perfect. Every moment infused with an unearthly tranquility and joy and love.

But as the truth set in, when the real world woke you up with its cruel truth, your heart ached with longing, and the dream slipped away like sand through fingers, leaving behind a bittersweet yearning for a world that felt more real than the one you awoke to.

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms !

- likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3 !!

©miwsolovely

[sgt-tombstone]

Soap knows how to load and fire a flintlock but won’t tell anyone how or why

it’s his favorite party trick and he loves to gloat that he knows how to operate one weapon that Ghost doesn’t (he could probably figure it out but doesn’t want to risk sacrificing his fingers or face in a firearm explosion to test that theory)

[tellmealittlelie]

Ghost and Soap shopping at the mall:

Ghost: hey, johnny, what do you call a store that sells only clothing for ghosts?

Soap, rolling his eyes: what?

Ghost: a "boo-tique"

Soap: okay, I've got one, what did the colour blind person say at the art exhibit?

Soap: "i'm here for the 'shades' of gray"

Ghost: that sort of insensitive to the colour blind folk like me, johnny

Soap: 😧 *mind blown*

Soap, holding up three fingers: how many do you see?!?

*based on a true story*

[steriotypicaloutlaw]

Ghost putting up glow in the dark stars above his bed because he gets nostalgic about sleeping under the stars sometimes. Ghost having a nightlight so he can see his surroundings and make sure he's not back in that coffin when he wakes up from a nightmare. Ghost keeping a fan on in his room at all times to stop the ringing in his ears. Ghost only being able to sleep if another member of the 141 are in the room with him. Ghost who secretly enjoys cuddling and being held, but only Soap, Roach, and Price get the honors of being able to even touch him for prolonged periods of time. Ghost who cries when overwhelmed and overstimulated, but blames it on allergies or sweat.

[divine-draws]

i love the thought of simon making his own masks so here's some si doing some crafts for his kids (little skelly beanies and "daddy dolls" of himself for when he's deployed)

[robiinurheart33]

John “terrible quips” MacTavish

Simon “dad jokes” Riley

[mrjeremyman]

Showing my rats places they haven’t seen!!

I wanted to add more but drawing is hard and also I have to go to a wedding tomorrow and the day after.

WIP of sleeping Johnny with the rats as an apology 🙏

[mikichko]

Begging for more of your ‘chao mi niño’ story🙏

hi cariño! thank you so much for the love on that series! it's one of my favorites 💖💕 i wasn't sure what you wanted to see but i wrote up something from zach's pov for the first time!

beekeeping part of chao mi niño cw: child pov, depictions of anxiety in children, all lowercase

there are bees under zach’s skin.

it’s the only possible explanation for the buzzing, itchy feeling living right below his skin. he’d tried to tell daddy, who after a thorough inspection that included getting shaken upside down, his absolute favorite part, had concluded that there were no bees in him. pa was no better, pressing his ear against all the body parts that zach offered him to listen for bees, but nope. he also missed the bees completely. 

but if it’s not bees, then what else could it be? 

zach is familiar with the bees. they’re not friends, he doesn’t particularly like how they make him feel, but he doesn’t dislike them either. he guesses the bees are always trying to warn him of something. the bees always come before change after all. he wonders if they’re like the geese, flying south. but instead of flying south they fly to zach and warn him that something big is coming. 

which is why zach finds himself squished between his dads in their own bed, feet wiggling between the two of them as they go over their plan of attack. though, zach worries that daddy isn’t really listening because he has a book in his hand. and zach knows that daddy can multitask very well but he’d really ‘preciate it if daddy could at least give him all his attention. pa at least looks zach in the eye, even if zach doesn’t meet his gaze, busy tracing the crisscrossed white lines on papa’s knuckles.

“and you goin’ to wait outside for a little bit right?” he bites his lip and peeks into papa’s eyes. 

papa’s blue eyes crinkle, the front of his mohawk wet and flopping onto his forehead, “aye z, told ye we’ll wait in case you dinnae like it.” papa’s other hand squeezes his ankle, “but i promise ye, school’s very nice. daddy and i already checked it out to make sure you’d like it.”

zach’s head turns at the sound of daddy placing his book on the beside table. he slides his glasses off and folds them before placing them on top of his book. daddy finally looks down at zach, ruffling his hair. “what’s got you all worked up? bees again?” 

zach nod’s solemnly, arm wrapping around himself as the bees intensify just a little more. papa’s hand curls around his and he shares a look with daddy. it’s the same look they shared when zach hid behind daddy’s leg when they first met clover. he’d had bees then too. clover was just a tad too big and too excited to meet him and zach was still scared of puppies. now clover snuggles with him occasionally and he gets no more bees around her.

“i used to get bees too, you know,” zach’s eyes widen at the rumble of daddy’s voice. daddy’s never been scared of anything, he even caught the neighbor’s dog that tried to jump on zach without flinching. he’d never thought that daddy would be the one to have bees too.  

daddy nods, wrapping an arm around zach pulling him close, “had really bad bees before your pa and i got married. they got really loud and were moving around so much i got pretty warm.”

zach leans into his daddy’s side, looking up at him with wide eyes, “but daddy why’d you have bees then? weren’t you ‘cited?” daddy chuckles a little, the low sound filling zach’s ear the same way the chocolate papa gave him earlier melted in his mouth, warm and sweet. 

“was worried your papa was gonna say no.” zach’s head immediately whips to his papa, had he even thought of saying no to daddy? papa is just as surprised as zach, with eyebrows raised and pulled together in the middle. he’s looking straight at daddy, not even noticing that zach’s wide eye expression is on him.

“he hadn’t said or done anything. if anything he’d made sure to tell me how happy he was. but, i was still a little worried i’d walk all the way to the altar and he’d still say no.” daddy’s eyes flicker from zach’s over to papa’s, naturally zach follows his gaze too.

papa’s eyes look a little wet. well, more wet than usual at least. zach’s recently learned eyes are always wet, that’s what blinks are for, but daddy’s eyes look wet like from tears. his head whips back and forth between daddy and papa, trying to decipher the silent conversation that they’re both having. daddy’s cheeks are a little pink, his lips pressed inward while papa blinks, the wetness in his eyes still not spilling over. it’s like this for a moment, the silent conversation between his dads before papa laughs a little silently and his free hand comes to scrub at his eyes.

daddy looks back down at zach, “but papa said yes and now we’ve got this house, we got clover, and we got you.” he leans down, real far down for daddy, to press a kiss on his forehead, “all the best things i could have got. because i didn’t let the bees scare me away.”

zach nods earnestly, chewing on his inner cheek as he thinks through daddy’s scenario. daddy is the bravest man he knows. he knows papa is brave too but he squealed at a mouse once so he knows that daddy is a little bit braver than him. zach is too, he named the mouse rupert. daddy had bees even though he was brave, they even got loud for him. daddy’s bees didn’t scare him away from papa and now they’re here, in this bed, with clover on the floor all together. 

papa’s hand is back on his ankle, rubbing at the skin there just like he does before zach falls asleep, “you got us here too bud. you don’t have to deal with the bees alone.”

papa’s right. daddy was brave with his bees alone. but daddy is also very big and zach is very small, so it’s nice that daddy and papa are both here to help with his bees. 

zach goes back to tracing his papa’s scars, quietly for a moment before, “but you promise you’re going to wait outside, right?”

daddy laughs, zach’s head moving a little with his shakes, and papa’s forehead falls forward against his leg. papa laughs and it tickles him, making his leg squirm.

papa smiles at him, daddy’s hand patting his head, “promise we’ll wait outside for you bud. always will.”

a/n: as always a special thank you to xavi for reading this over before i push this out here. 💕 always immensely thankful for you 💕

[vic-draws-sometimes]

Ghost likes puzzles.

He didn't know until he visited Price once and saw a huge puzzle on his table. Price had been at it on and off for a few weeks, so tired of it but not about to give up.

Ghost came to visit him for a simple dinner and chat, to "relax" for once. But he barely ate and didnt talk because of how much his attention was on the puzzle. His body was the most relaxed it's ever been. Hours later he finished the puzzle.

Now, when Price knows Ghost needs to relax but the bugger won't do it, he takes out a puzzle and throws it on the table. Ghost comes in like a dog smelling food and immediately starts working on it. Nothing can take him away from that puzzle. He will also eat and drink anything offered to him (probably won't even notice he's munching on something).

Soap one time made the mistake of giving him a puzzle as a gift during a holiday party... Ghost definitely enjoyed it... On the floor... Of the rented place... During the party... And after...

One time he was really frustrated and Price gave him a puzzle. For once Ghost noticed the trick and called it out "you won't buy me with that cheap ass puzzle! I won't just sit down like a good kid the second you pull that out!

Actually, it's so cheap and easy I'll do it now to show you and when I'm done with it you'll still be here drinking your coffee and I'll still be angry!"

He wasn't...

[miwsolovely]

dad!ghoap au | ghoap x gn!reader

sun burnt eyes and bunnies

tw: ( mentions of ) nightmares

a/n: simon is so whipped here um… ( unedited )

Teddy woke them up before their alarm did.

“Da, Da! Wake up, wake up!”

The body pressed into his front let out a grunt. Meanwhile the tiny body jumping on their bed was stepping on their legs.

The sun barely showed itself above the horizon and their daughter was up before them and full of energy. Johnny would say that she got the early bird genes from him. Simon would counter saying she inherited his golden retriever attitude.

With groggy eves and slow, sleep ridden movements Johnny sat upright against the headboard and pulled their daughter in his arms with a smile. "Whit's keepin' ye up at this time hm, leannan?"

Simon shifted to his side and drank in the sight of his lover and his daughter speaking in hushed whispers, trying to be discreet and quiet while occasionally looking at him and giggling. He loved his daughter with his whole heart. From her dark black hair to her bright blue eyes, he loved her.

He loved Johnny with his entire soul as well as his heart, he'd always find a way to fight his way in anyways. Johnny always liked to brag to everyone he'd meet that Simon was his rock, his fortress, but Simon didn’t feel much like a rock with how he felt like he would tumble and break if anything could happen to his family. He felt less like an imposing fortress and more like a ball of tumble weed with how he felt his walls break and burn when his daughter came crying to him with a scrapped knee.

His heart was so fragile and seemed to be on the verge of breaking. But when nights were bad and he'd wake up with sweat making his clothes cling to him, suffocating him and making him choke on his own breath, Johnny would be there. Johnny would be his rock, making sure Teddy was still asleep and making sure he was changed into clean clothes. Johnny was his fortress, making sure the monsters of his eternal night were far away from him, making sure they wouldn't be able to taint their house, their family.

He loved them so much. He loved the way Teddy tickled her way out of Johnny's grasp and crawled his way towards him, and he loved her big cerulean blue eyes that only gazed at him with wonder and love.

Her face made home on his warm chest, her small hands grabbing at his large ones, playing with his fingers. "What's wrong Dada?"

Simon smiled and rested his free palm on her head, playing with her soft curls. "Nothin’ my darlin' Teddy. Just love you." He placed a kiss on her forehead and laughed as she giggled.

"I love you more!" She exclaims. Suddenly sitting on her knees and spreading her arms as wide as she can. "Ah love you an' Da this much!"

The weight of the bed shifting more to Simon's side made him aware of Johnny leaning towards Teddy and lifting her up, gaining a squeal of joy from her tiny lips.

"Oh yeah? Let's show yer Dad how much ye love ‘im then, eh?" He smiles. "How's breakfast in bed sound Si?”

Simon smiled a toothy smile and met Johnny halfway to meet his lips in a kiss. "Sounds like heaven.”

Johnny already felt his body shivering when he stepped outside.

Though he has a long sleeved shirt on with long pants, his thighs pressed against the fabric and his biceps were so prominently outlined with this shirt that it felt like he was walking outside bare naked; the clothing doing nothing for warmth he would’ve felt the same unforgiving chill if he was naked.

Johnny scratched his hair, his mohawk in need of a trim, he’d make sure to ask Simon to cut it for him. That or he’d just grow it out.

He let out a yawn, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. Even with the barrier, he watched his breath escape him as a white cloud, vanishing into the air.

Reaching his mailbox, he smiled fondly at the pink hands of Teddy that greeted him.

‘RILEY HOUSE’ was written in a mix of yellow and green paint, three sets of hands in three different colors painted on the once white box.

‘SIMON’ , ‘JOHNNY’ , and ‘TEDDY’

Simon’s badge was written in black, blue for himself, and Teddy’s name was written in pink. Their hands forever painted on the mailbox below their names.

Johnny patted the mailbox with a fond look in his eye. He remembered Simon complaining about how the paint wouldn’t come off his hands. How Teddy ran around the house and stuck her tiny hands to the wall separating the kitchen from the living room and how Johnny smiled at her with love even though he knew the paint would never come off.

He loves his family. His Riley’s.

Johnny opened the mailbox and took the mail out, walking back to the front door with his eyes reading the mail and his hips jutting out with every step.

Bills, scam, scam, letter from his Ma he’d read once inside, bills, scam, clearance sale coming up, and a letter addressed to Simon.

Johnny’s thick brows met when he reached the last paper in the stack. A letter for Simon? He rarely gets any letters.

Pushing his worries aside, Johnny was near his door when he heard the opening and closing of another.

He looked to the house on his left and out came you. His neighbor that he never met. His neighbor that always seemed to wake up earlier than him and Simon.

Johnny stood pin straight on his porch, mail in one hand and the front doorknob in the other.

You were speed walking to your mailbox, your hair was out and the breeze was getting it in your face, your robe was flowing in the wind doing absolutely nothing to protect your soft skin from the chilly air and all the while, revealing the oversized shirt you were wearing.

If Johnny was a bad man, if he looked hard enough, he could see the little pebbles of your nipples and the form of your breast outlined by your shirt. But he wasn’t a bad man.

He was a good man, a respectable man. So he only saw the was your pants squeezed your thighs just as his own did his.

Though that didn’t seem any better, did it.

Distracted by the cup of coffee in your hands and the person you were calling on your phone, at the same time turning your phone over to your face every couple of seconds, likely checking the time and hoping it was earlier than 6:47 in the morning, you didn’t notice that you were almost in the middle of the street. You didn’t notice the car speeding.

You certainly didn’t notice Johnny dropping his mail, running towards you and scooping you up by your waist, placing you on the sidewalk in front of your house. Your hero.

The sun burnt his eyes. It was too early to be here. If he came later though, it would’ve been too late.

He heaved out a deep sigh and ran a calloused hand through his blond hair, wincing at the feeling of his fingers catching tiny knots and tugging at his scalp.

There were a dozen or so cars parked near the front of the school, parents eagerly waiting for their children to walk out of the big doors and into their arms. Parents who couldn’t stop gawking at him.

He’s not here to meet the stares of the married parents trying to lean on his car discreetly, he’s here for one thing and one thing only: his daughter.

But he can’t not stop thinking about the way the sun’s rays pierced his eyes and made him wish he was blind.

So, here he was, wishing he was deaf instead with how loud the end of school bell screamed in his ears, and wishing he had the eyes of a hawk so he could look at and wait for the beautiful elementary teacher to walk towards him with his daughter grasping her hand.

When you did come out, Simon realized why your name always fell from Johnny’s lips.

It’s might be the clothes hugging your figure. Might be the sun. It might just be you.

But the way your pants curves with your hips, forms with your thighs, your glowing skin kissed by the sun. You’re vibrant in the fabric, big eyes shining so bright it makes his knees buckle and he feels his breath catching in his throat. He can’t look away.

You’re a dove, perfect and pure, kind and naive, skin so soft he would feel like the softest of feathers were blessing his skin with kisses.

If he got close enough. If you’d grace him with the air you blew his way with a flap of your feathers. If.

You finished guiding the children to their parents, bidding them farewell with a wave accompanied by a delicate smile that made your eyes scrunch and cute footprints that reminded Simon of crows appear on the corners of your eyes.

Simon stood up straighter when you approached him with his daughter skipping and giggling without a care in the world. He felt his lips tug on his cheeks.

Teddy was looking side to side trying to find the tall man that was her father, when she met his eyes, Simon felt his smile match hers. Fun of life and love.

Teddy let go of your hand and almost broke into a full sprint, almost because your palm on her little stomach stopped her from doing so. You bent down a bit to match her height and reminded her about looking both ways before crossing the street.

Teddy smiled up at you and grabbed your hand once more, sticking her head to see the road better and seeing her head both right and left making her pigtails sway with the movement.

You patted her head with your free hand and now that you were a few feet away from him, Simon could hear your sweet voice.

“Good job Teddy! Always remember now, okay?” You smiled at his daughter with such, care, it made his heart squeeze.

“Mhm!” Teddy answered. She looked at Simon and a gasp escaped her lips as she let go of your hand and ran into his arms.

Simon smiled and squatted down to match her height, picking her up by her armpits and twirling her around in the air.

“There’s my girl,” He said, propping her on his hip and kissing the crown of her head.

You were just about to leave, midway into turning around and going back into there school into your classroom. But Simon wanted to actually see you up close. He wanted to drink you in and get drunk on your sweet nectar.

Teddy giggled, he’d never get enough of that, and she pointed at her teacher, at you. “Look, look its my teacher Daddy, aren’t they pretty?”

You turned around and paused, looking at Teddy in surprise. As if you haven’t heard a compliment like that before. As if you hadn’t heard a compliment done right, a compliment said by the right mouth.

Simon has the right mouth. He can shower you in compliments right and pure if he tried his hardest. If you gave him and Johnny a chance to.

“You’re right, love,” He says, looking at you with flowers blossoming through his eyes. You with the bright and lovely skin, you with those perfect lips he wished to kiss. “She’s beautiful.”

The way your eyes widened, Simon could tell your cheeks were warm, your ears burning.

“I—” You paused. Seemingly deciding your next words carefully with a hesitance that resembled one of a bunny. Meek and lovely.

Simon could see in your eyes that you were debating on how to answer, how to speak after what he and his daughter just said. You looked so confused and cute Simon couldn’t help the slow smile spreading across his face.

“Thank you, Mr. Riley,” You said softly. A shy thing you were. “That’s very kind of you.”

Simon thought your voice was heaven.

He would’ve kept taking to you, kept you tucked in his chest right next to Johnny in his heart. But he forgot he’s not alone.

He’s in the burning parking lot with parents pretending to look anywhere but him and the lovely teacher, trying not to eavesdrop and likely spread gossip that would stem from the lines of “why not come to my place-” or “i missed you, let’s do this again-”

However, Simon wouldn’t think those words would be such a bad idea to spread. You were a lovely person who deserved men to cherish and flaunt you. Simon and Johnny could do that job.

Johnny already does with how much he boasts about how amazing his daughter’s teacher is.

Teddy’s stomach started to rumble. Hungry clawing and cramping her poor stomach.

“Hungry, love?” Simon asks her, tilting his head down to look at her tucked into his neck. Teddy blinks up at him with tired laced eyes and nods softly.

“Let’s get you home to eat then, hm?” He assures, giving her a small smile and patting her head back into his neck for rest.

“It was nice meeting you, Mr. Riley.” You say, and the breeze answers you with a cold wind that erupts your arms in goosebumps, making you shiver. Making Simon wish he brought a jacket to drape over your shoulders.

“Nice meetin’ you too, dove.” He nods his head at you and leaves you with a warm smile.

His heart pounds.

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