#singledad!simon riley x singlemother!reader

[deunmiu-dessie]

(unedited) widowedfather!simon remembers you. [ one, two ]

he seemed lost, but not in the sense of having lost his way; no, more like he was lost on what to do with himself, with his child. you had noticed that about him the moment you spotted him in the grocery store, standing in the formula aisle.

cradled in his strong arms he held a tiny infant, a baby girl you had realized— and she was wailing, it was loud but familiar; relatable. his furrowed brow and hesitant movements betrayed his lack of confidence, as if he were treading unfamiliar territory. it was as if he was grappling with the weight of the world, unsure of how to provide for this tiny life that now depended on him.

even now he seemed lost, this time in the sense of belonging— after all, he stood out as a towering figure amidst a sea of mothers, with his daughter securely strapped to his chest and his arm tightly clutching her for added reassurance. his broad shoulders and strong presence seemed out of place in this gathering of nurturing figures, and his demeanor hinted at an underlying unease, you could tell that he was anxious, and questioning.

you couldn't help but watch briefly as he observed the other parents chatting animatedly, before lifting from your spot in front of the class, and padding your way over to him, just before he could talk himself out of leaving. this would be good for him, for her.

“we meet again.”

his eyes, brown like deep pools of melted milk chocolate, met yours and lit up with recognition as your warm gaze enveloped him. a subtle change washed over the man, the tension that had once resided in his features began to melt away, replaced by a sense of ease and comfort, though the respite was subtle, it was evident in the way his shoulders sagged, the lines on his forehead softened.

you smile warmly at the baby, softly cooing as you extend your finger towards her, laughing as she latches onto it immediately. finding his gaze again you flash a grin. “welcome to baby & me, i’ll be leading today's session."

you hold your hand out to him, tilting your head slightly. his voice is deep, rough, gravelly, and accented. you can't help but feel a bit surprised for a moment, especially when his grip on your hand remains as gentle as ever. it’s the contrast between his rugged appearance and his gentle touch; weathered hands, adorned with calluses and scars, that makes your head spin.

“simon.”

you flash a smile as you position yourself beside him, gently placing your hand on his arm to guide him toward an empty seat. “i’m happy that you two are here, simon. now let me get you seated before i begin class, hm?”

[deunmiu-dessie]

(unedited) widowedfather!simon gets help with his daughter. [ connected with this post as an au! ] [ one, two ]

the incessant wailing of the baby seemed never-ending. her plump, delicate cheeks were tinged with a crimson hue, and torrents of tears streamed down her face. simon, standing amidst the formula cans, wondered briefly how such a tiny thing could produce such an ear-piercing noise, the sound grating at his ears, which only served to exacerbate his already troubled state of mind.

he was at a loss, unable to figure out what was causing her distress. simon had just fed her, burped her, and changed her diaper recently—yet she continued to cry inconsolably, legs kicking and arms tucked to her body. it’d been like that, him desperately trying to calm her down while receiving judgmental glares from onlookers (although he couldn't bring himself to care) for the past fifteen minutes.

she misses her mother.

well, she's gone. he was all she had now, and he wasn't much– he knew that. he’d asked price’s wife for help several times after she was born, when he couldn't figure out why she was crying, what to do when she wouldn't go to sleep. simon eventually stopped asking for help a couple of months later, didn't want to inconvenience them any more than he already had. didn't matter if they swore that he wasn't. he was a father, he needed to act like one.

simon had never been annoyed or angry with his child. how could he ever find it in himself to be annoyed or angry with his own flesh and blood? especially when she bore such an uncanny resemblance to his late wife.

no, his anger was solely directed towards himself, anger for not being able to understand her needs quickly, anger for not knowing how to soothe her. doubt plagued his every thought, making him question his capability to raise her properly.

“hi, would you like some help with her?”

taken from his thoughts, simon turned slightly to where the voice spoke, a woman standing just a few feet from him. her grocery cart was filled with food and two children, twin boys, were hanging off the side he realized. they seemed to be no more than five years old, but they were calm; giggling amongst themselves and pointing to what cereals they would eat early tomorrow.

simon redirects his attention toward the woman, her smile is warm, sympathetic, and non-judgmental. she eyes the newborn with starry eyes and a slight pout on her lips. simon shakes his head softly. “s’alrigh, don’t want t’bother you.” he murmurs gently. regardless, even though he declines her help, his daughter continues to cry inconsolably, much like the day she was born.

she waves him off and grins— everything about her was so, motherly, so kind. “believe it or not, i miss the newborn phase. they're like little critters when they hit their tot years.” she whispers the last part to avoid her kids overhearing and sends him a wink. he chuckles, it's small, barely there but she hears it nonetheless and responds with a soft laugh of her own.

the woman takes a few steps forward and gently takes the baby from his grasp, despite his hesitation, before he can decline once more. and a weight is lifted from his shoulders, his body no longer tense from not understanding what was wrong. simon watches as she cradles the newborn, a bright smile adorning her face, before she looks up at him. “she’s just a little gassy, feeding her while she’s upright will help to stop this from happening.”

simon anxiously nods, his heart pounding as the woman gently applies pressure just below his daughter's tummy, causing the gas to escape gradually and the baby's cries to turn into soft whimpers instead. his heartbeat slows, and he readjusts his arms to take the child. the woman lovingly coos at the newborn one last time before placing her delicately into simon’s waiting embrace.

she waves him off once more when he goes to thank her, smiling. “we parents need to stick together,” she says, before she walks back towards her cart and affectionately runs her hands through her children’s hair. “so, where to next?” her laugh is soft and loving as the two excitedly shout, "candy!" she looks over her shoulder at him and rolls her eyes, mouthing: ‘critters’

and simon, since the death of his wife, finally feels something.