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http-paprika · 7 months

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noise / simon “ghost” riley

dad!ghost / pairing simon “ghost” riley x wife!reader / wc 504 / warnings none, pure fluff

summery raising a baby is completely different than anything else simon has done. but a new skill she learns leaves him completely surprised.

note this is what I wrote for the result of the poll, it’s not very long, I know. I just had to write this little story, it was too cute to pass up. maybe I’ll add more dad!ghost one-shots in the future.

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The baby smacks against his chest, babbling loudly as he carries her through the house, trying to pass the time as his wife enjoys a moment of solitude in the shower after Simon got home from work.

Having a baby was still such a strange new chapter in Simon’s life, and the seven months since her birth, it had been a wild ride. Between the joys of watching her grow and learn, to the endless nights of her crying and the struggle of Simon learning how to actually be a good father for her. But the moments he got to spend with her alone, when she wasn’t screaming her lungs off, had become a favorite part of his day. Watching her smile, listening to her little laughs, was one of the things that he always looked forward to when he returned home from a long day.

“Oh really? And why’s that?” He chuckles, pretending to understand his infant daughter as she tries to converse with him. Moving through the house, he walks her out into the cool autumn air where their dog ran up to greet them.

“Be careful.” Simon tells her as she turns, leaning against his arms to try and reach the happy, retired military dog, Bandit, who barks up at her. Slowly, he crouches down on level with the canine who continues to enthusiastically bark and paw at them.

“Gentle.” He says to her as she reaches out, taking a fistful of the dog’s fur. “Gentle, lovie. Gentle. Just like that”

Simon takes her tiny little hand in his own, showing her how to pet the dog. Eventually, he drops his hand allowing the baby to reach out on her own autonomy and pat at Bandit’s muzzle.

She makes a noise that startles him, his eyes widening as Simon realizes the baby is attempting to mimic the dog as it yips back at her. It comes out a babbled mess, but there’s no mistaking the imitation and the excited nature of the baby everytime the dog responds back to her.

“There you two are, I was wondering where you’d disappeared to.” His wife steps out onto the patio, a startled look on her face as Simon looks up at her, exasperated. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s barking.”

“What?” She furrows her brow, confused by his statement and folding her arms looking down at him and the baby. “What are you talking about, Simon?”

“Just— listen. Bandit, speak.” He commands the dog, who obliges and barks, quickly followed by the daughter who attempts to bark back, giggling and kicking her feet afterward. “She’s imitating the dog.”

Almost as if to prove his point to her mother, the baby does it again, this time smiling up at her mother while doing it. The two adults just stare down at the baby who’s proud of the new noise she’s managed to make.

“She’s never gonna stop, is she?” Simon finally asks his wife, the realization creeping over him, his face contorting in horror.

“No, she’s not.”

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #call of duty mw2 #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw22 #ghost mw2 #fanfic #such a good dad and husband omg #dad!ghost #ghost is a girl dad #ghost is babygirl #simon ghost riley x you #ghost needs a baby #I’ll stand by that until I die

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mactavishsgfandwife · 3 months

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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

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hecateslore · 4 months

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based off of this little thought I had in the am.

TW: mentions of death and dying

Simon sat in the living room alone, his baby girl swaddled tightly in his arms. He watched her soft resting face, her little brow twitches and soft sleepy smiles. Only home for a week, he was so used to his little girl. Her sleep interrupted by a kiss on the cheek from her father, she let out a soft mewl, “‘m sorry baby” he says smiling down at the newborn.

“Such a pretty baby” running his finger over her soft hair. “You’re a big girl, hurt mummy” he said adjusting her position, big brown eyes staring back up at him. He watches her closely, hoping he could stay like this forever. Bringing her closer to his face to smell her, Baby soap and milk.

You enter the living room, bottle in hand watching as he holds the baby.

She looks so small in his arms, He looks so at peace, touching her little ears, trying to remember every detail of her. “You wanna feed her?” you ask, taking a seat next to him. He nods, taking the four ounce bottle, placing the nipple in your daughter's mouth. He chuckles at the baby's grunts. “'I'm leavin' in a bit.” Now it was your turn to nod, speechless.

A heavy feeling sat in Simon's chest, would this be the last time? His hold on the baby became a bit tighter as his mind drifted. Simon never feared death, he wasn’t afraid of dying.There’d been multiple occasions where death seemed like the only option. But when it came to leaving the two of you behind? He was terrified. Your daughter's wail of discomfort snapped him out of his thoughts. Pulling the bottle away from her mouth, he takes the neatly swaddled blanket off her ( He paid really close attention in the hospital, now it’s the only way she sleeps:( ) holding her tummy to tummy, staring at those brown eyes. “I probably have to get goin’ ” he frowns at the baby, rubbing her tiny back. “Be a good girl for papa” he whispers then smells her one last time, kissing the crown of her head for a moment.

Simon stands, baby still in arms, “Come walk me out.” He walks towards the front door and you follow behind. He holds her tight, swaying back and forth, kissing the crown of her head, rubbing his fingertips on her back. Praying to whatever and whomever, Just get me there and bring me back. Just get me there and Bring me back home.

need a domesticated Simon BAADDDD

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zylev-blog · 4 months

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Dick, Damian, and Tim are ice skating. During this time, Danny, Dani (age 2, which is her actual age vs her aged up age) and Valerie are also ice skating. Tim trips Damian, sending him careening into Dani and Danny. Danny rolls on instinct and lands with Dani and Damian on his chest. Valerie, who saw this whole thing, grabs Tim by the ear and forces him to apologize to her boyfriend and daughter. Tim recognizes Danny as his newest PA, and decides that today wasn’t the day he wanted to meet his newest employee.

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tb-png · 1 year

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cat army!!! - 👻🐱

Ghost is the ultimate cat whisperer, he does nothing and cats flock to him like hes their messiah. They’re his little army!!! They follow him around the base and ready to defend their dad from anyone!!! friends or foes!!!

#tbpng #cat dad #simon riley #simon ghost riley #lieutenant ghost #cod headcanons #cod hc #cod ghost #baby girl ghost #ghost fanart #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod mwii #cod mw22 #cod mw2

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moongreenlight · 7 months

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I love your work about the 141 gossiping about Ghost, love the concept of him having a “secret wife”.

Please please please write more with “secret wife y/n”, I beg of you. 🙏🏻

ANYTHING FOR YOU, ANON. <3 Ghost and secretwife!reader are my sweet babies I love them so much.

Tw: blond Simon & smiling Simon. Read at your own risk.

If there’s one thing Gaz knows how to do, it’s shut the fuck up. And if there was ever a time to employ that skill, it was now. Now after he’d been frozen watching the two of you reunite after a close call. After he’d discovered your dirty little secret. Suddenly feeling like Icarus after flying too close to the sun. Hurtling back down to earth. He was certain that when he moved there would be a crater under his feet where his stomach dropped.

He’d gone so green that another nurse came up and gently tugged on his arm to see if he was alright. He snapped his jaw shut, nodding and mumbling something that didn’t sound anywhere near reassuring. But he forced himself to leave the medbay. Left the two of you behind the curtain, where in his final glance back he saw that your feet were still neatly on top of Ghost’s big boots. Pushed up on your toes to be able to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

He made some excuse not to meet with you that evening. Could barely look you in the eye when you caught him in the hall, looking significantly more cheery than you had been that morning. You pried, asking if he was alright, feeling his forehead with the back of your hand, but he claimed the stress of their mission had just hit him and he really needed to sleep.

It took him weeks to get over the initial shock. Couldn’t stand next to Ghost during conditioning. Made a point of sitting catty-corner to him during meetings and in transit so he had the least chances of accidentally catching his eye. Feeling like he’d deeply bastardized the idea of ‘Ghost.’ Blurred the lines between the man Gaz knew and the man he was in private.

He tried to reason with himself. Keep it fresh in his mind that he’d seen the signs, just hadn’t been able to fully connect the dots by himself. And it was an accident. He’d never intentionally pry into either of your personal lives like that. It wasn’t in his character. There was nothing innately wrong with the two of you hiding a marriage. Probably would have been an HR nightmare. Gotten both of you re-stationed. He was certain you both had a good reason to hide it. And there was no better person to find out than him. He’d actually be able to keep it a secret. Soap would immediately run his mouth. Get on the intercoms and scream the news as loud as he could. Price would pull the both of you aside and try to have some heart-to-heart. Not that it wouldn’t have been nice, it just would have felt too forced. Wouldn’t have served any real purpose.

So eventually he gets over it. Never pressed you about your marriage again, and you never seemed too keen on following up his request from months ago. The dust settles in his mind. He shelves the information like an old book. Life goes on.

And then the weather turns. Starts getting colder. The first few weeks of cold after summer where the wind stings a little more. Finds it’s way through jackets and uniforms a little more artfully. Soldiers are catching ill and passing it around like it’s a competition of who can infect the entire base. The medbay is busy, but a different kind of busy than summer when it’s an optimal time to see missions through.

The medics are tasked with rounding up all the soldiers on base and issuing flu vaccines to hopefully prevent further spread. You trudge to Price’s office in the early morning. He notices you look a little pale. The rims of your eyes and tip of your nose are blotchy. A gentle shade of pink that he assumes is from the weather or the cold you were bound to catch. You chat for a bit, catch up because you haven’t had the opportunity for a few weeks. Let him know that he and the boys need to make their way to the bay for their shots at some point.

You feel a little woozy. Pressing into his doorframe for support, white-knuckling it to keep yourself from swaying in your spot. He looks a little concerned. Asks if you need to take a few days away to recoup. You wave him off, tell him it’s nothing you can’t handle, but he insists on walking you back to medbay. And he’s glad he did because on the short walk back you find yourself having to duck into a dark meeting room so you can vomit into a trash can.

He keeps a steadying arm wrapped around your waist when you stumble back out into the hall. Shaking his head when you profusely apologize. Slowing his normally long strides so you were comfortable. Gently lets you down on your own cot and instructs you to stay where you are while he goes to find a few other doctors that can delegate your work for the day between them so you can have the day off.

He sends you home despite your protest. You’d already gotten your color back. Claimed you must’ve had something off to eat. He wasn’t having it. Said he wouldn’t have his best doctor spreading sick because she’s too stubborn to get off her feet for a few hours. He’s a bit more stern than usual because he knows you won’t listen otherwise, but he brings you a ginger ale and sits next to your bed until you’ve finished it.

Later that day, when he and the boys finally get around to the bay for vaccines, he notices the way Ghost’s eyes dart around like he was looking for something. His shoulders tensing when he sees your station empty, and moments after he’s taken his shot, Price sees that he’s slunk off to a corner to make a phone call.

He doesn’t think much of it. He’s been trying to give Ghost some space. So he just shrugs it off. Let’s him finish up whatever he’s doing before they get back to work.

The boys have gotten in the habit of taking a week off as the snow melts. Just before Spring brings rain and the soft buds of new leaves on the trees. Unofficial tradition proposed early on to have a few more days rest before things inevitably picked up again. Usually gave the boys time to kick off to visit family or get some well needed time away from base. Get in a well needed break because God knew they wouldn’t be able to for the foreseeable future.

Soap finds himself a little North of Manchester in his time off. Went out to see his godparents in Bolton for a couple days before getting back up to Iverness to see his parents. Meandering through a supermarket to pick up a bottle of wine for his godmother and a bottle of bourbon for himself. Could have sworn he saw Simon turning a corner at the end of the aisle. Chalked it up to a trick of the light. Seeing things after months of close quarters with his L.T.

But then he saw the man again. Stood in line at the butcher’s counter. No mask, but the same crooked nose and cropped blond hair. Same scar hooking his jaw. Swapped out his uniform and gear for a thick leather jacket, white shirt, and a pair of jeans. Would have been unrecognizable if Johnny didn’t know him so well.

He was about to head over to say hello. Make some wise crack about Ghost missing him too much, but he was stilled for a moment when a woman approached Simon. Pushed her cart up next to him and nudged his side with her hip. Prompted him to give her a small smile- the only smile Soap had ever seen Simon grace anyone with. No teeth, just a curve of his lips, but it changed his face completely.

Ghost said something to the woman. She reached up to fuss with the collar of his jacket. Johnny saw her shoulders shake slightly and heard the quiet tinkling sound of her laughter. Completely shell shocked. So imagine his surprise when the woman turned away from Ghost and it was you. Only you looked wildly different. He knew your face well enough, but after almost six months not going to the medbay on a weekly basis, something had changed.

Even wearing an oversized sweatshirt he could see the way it pulled taught against your swollen belly. Saw the way your arm was cradling it like second nature. He didn’t even realize that the bottle of wine had slipped from his fingers until he watched Simon’s head snap toward the sound. Ears perked. Tense like he’d suddenly flashed onto the battlefield. His eyes went wild for a moment as he scanned the busy aisle, calmed only a degree when he found you.

It’s like that Spider-Man meme where the three of them meet and point at each other. Johnny’s smiling sheepishly (for once), your jaw is dropped in surprise, and Simon is glaring daggers at Johnny like somehow it was his fault that you were all in the same place at once. You’re the first one to move. Rushing up to him as quickly as you could- now moving a bit awkwardly with the disproportionate weight of your pregnancy on your front. Asking if he was alright. Grabbing his hands to make sure the glass hadn’t cut him.

Simon tailed you like a hulking shadow. Glowering down at Soap something fucking ferocious. Didn’t even give him time to tell you he was fine. Pulling you back behind his arm by the wrists with a kind of gentleness Johnny had never known the L.T. to possess. You twisted your face in displeasure, batting his hands away and stepping back out from behind the wall that was your husband. Ignoring the wine and the soft crunch of glass under your shoes.

And to Soap’s absolute bafflement, Simon stood down. Didn’t try to yank you back, didn’t voice his protest, just drew his mouth into a hard line and let you push past him. He was speechless. For what well may have been the first time in his life, John MacTavish had no words. Couldn’t apologize for the mess. Couldn’t crack a joke. Couldn’t even say hello. He was pure dead at a loss.

Somehow, he allowed you to guide him away from the mess he’d made- staining the waxed tile a muted crimson even after the disgruntled looking employee came over to mop it up. Found his voice in your tugging him along after you and Simon to the checkout where you insisted you’d pay for the bottle of bourbon he’d managed not to send careening to the ground. Tried to tell you no, but you’d already sent it down the belt. And by the time you’d rooted through your purse in search of your card, Simon had already finished paying and was tucking his wallet into his back pocket.

Shuffled out with the two of you into the car park. Making a point of putting distance between himself and Simon who was pushing the cart with one hand and had the other planted firmly on the small of your back. Always walking on the side of oncoming traffic.

Johnny tried to keep up with your conversation. Asking him about his break. Where he was staying and for how long. How had he been. But it was tense. He could feel Ghost’s eyes on the back of his head. Burning through him. Making him feel like he had a target tacked to his skull.

He said a quick goodbye when Ghost helped you into the passenger seat of your car. You said you’d see him soon enough, said if he had any extra time before they went back he’d have to come by for dinner. Simon closed the door before you could say anything else. Looking monumentally irked.

The two men stood in suffocating silence while Simon unloaded the groceries into the trunk. Johnny tried to ignore the glinting of the silver band on the L.T’s finger. Caught the light every time he set a new bag in the back. A little unsure if he was being dismissed or if Ghost was just waiting until he was certain you wouldn’t hear the lashing he was bound to receive.

But it all stayed relatively calm. Maybe the eye of the hurricane. Simon pushed the bottle of bourbon into his chest before swinging the trunk shut.

“Appreciate if you’d keep this between us.”

Ghost spoke first, the words sounding a bit sticky in his throat- like they didn’t want to come out.

“‘Course.”

Johnny’s voice wasn’t much better. Both of them shifted on their feet. Not use to this kind of conversation. Uncomfortable being pushed from their usual dynamic.

Simon just nodded, moving to push the cart back to the corral. Johnny followed.

“How long you been keepin’ this in?”

“Which bit.”

His response was flat.

“Dinnae, L.T. Seems yer a man o’ mystery these days.”

Soap prodded, unable to help himself. A smile crept into his voice.

“Don’t push it.”

Simon bit back.

“Bonnie thing for a brute like you.”

“Johnny.”

“Looks ready’ta pop.”

A harsh sigh from Ghost. He reached into his jacket pocket like he was going for a cigarette. Tightening his jaw when his hand showed back up empty. He hummed his agreement.

“Few months.”

They’d reached Johnny’s car by this point. Just a few rows over in the car park. Stood by his driver’s side door shuffling their feet once more.

“Ken it’ll turn out like you?”

He couldn’t help but ask. Never pictured Ghost the fatherly type, but the idea was growing on him now that it’d been planted in his mind.

“Hope not.”

Simon gruffed back. Johnny snorted.

“Boy o’ girl?”

This earned him a nasty look, but he figured he was in deep enough as it was. No harm in asking.

“Girls.”

#this had me giiiiiiiiiggling and kicking my feet anon thank you #self indulgent dad!simon fluff #picturing him with twin baby girls I’m tearing my hair out holy shit #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #141 headcanons #moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #secret wife

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emperorpalpatittay · 8 months

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Simon is a protective and loving father. If he only had girls you bet your ass he takes being a girl dad 100% seriously. He gets you to teach him how to do their hair. His big burly hands that could wrap your daughters head are delicately trying to place bobbles in her tresses.

He teaches them how to change the oil in a car and how to change a tire in an emergency. He teaches them how to grill and hunt.

“No daugh’er of mine will need to depend on a man.”

Whenever his daughters are old enough to date he gets more protective than ever. Lord help the poor terrified boy who shows up at the door to pick up your daughter. The mountain of a man standing there arms crossed. Face scarred, nose crooked from being broken one too many times. His face set in a scowl.

“You touch a hair on my daughters head. You are dead. You hurt her in anyway. You are dead. You try and force her into anything. You are dead. You make her feel uncomfortable you are dead. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes s-Sir.”

#ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x wife!reader #ghost with kids #ghost as a girl dad

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spacedace · 8 months

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Found this old snippet and don't really remember of the context for it outside of being a joking exploration of how weird the Fenton/Phantom family tree would seem to outsiders (not even getting into how relationships might be classified differently between the human side & the ghost side)

Anyway gonna drop it here as a prompt lol

Mind the quick reference to dismemberment, there's no gore or detailed description and no one is actually hurt, it's more there for comedic effect, but still wanted to give the heads up on it 👍

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Nomad motioned to the towering, vaguely vampire-looking buff dude with literal flaming hair what the fuck, “Dan, this is everyone. Everyone this is Dan. He’s my…” Nomad trailed off and blinked, a look of confused befuddlement on her face as she let the sentence hang for too long.

“Huh…” She said considering, looking up at vampire-dude, Dan apparently, with a confused furrow on her brow. “You know this is the first time I’ve ever had to try and explain our relationship to each other and I’m drawing a blank and what exactly to call you. Uncle? Dad? Brother? Like, I think you could technically be considered all three.”

What the fuck did that mean??? Kon snapped his attention over to meet Tim’s masked gaze, the look of wild confusion Kon was sure was on his own face mirrored there. Around the meeting room confused and worried looks were being shared by the rest of the League. Which like, yeah, what in the Habsburgs was happening here for all of those terms to be applicable?

“Well, you’re Danny’s Mirror, so if you consider him your dad then it stands to reason I’m also your father.” Dan said, hand coming up to his - literally flaming, how did that work? - goatee thoughtfully.

“Yeah but like, I call Danny dad just to piss Vlad off.” Nomad countered, toying with her severed arm with her still attached hand. Kon didn’t think he’d ever get over how casual she was about being literally disarmed and just…not caring. “And I definitely don’t see you as a dad. Uncle?”

The giant of a ghost shook his head with a frown, “Implies that Danny and I are brothers, which could work but gives our relationship kind of a weird vibe. I feel more like his father than anything.”

“Gramps, then?”

“No.”

Nomad laughed, “Fair, wouldn’t want to take the title of Grampa away from CW. Besides we’re both half Vlad, so I think brother works best here.” She frowned, looking thoughtful, “Maybe half brother?”

Dan considered, “Half-brother could work. Though it gives Vlad more credit than he deserves.”

“Oh come on, can you imagine the look on his face if we went in together on suing him for child support?” Nomad asked, fanged grin wicked. Dan’s face lit up at the idea, and Kon felt like they were rapidly heading towards the two ghosts running off to go and go torment whoever this Vlad guy was rather then them help deal with the current demonic problem at hand.

“Can you please explain what any of that means?” Kon asked, more a squeak than anything else. He was starting to get a headache.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dani phantom #danielle phantom #elle phantom #elle's hero name is Nomad in this one because why not lol #dan phantom #kon el kent #kon kent #connor kent #tim drake #justice league #Elle & Dan just having a very weird concerning conversation about how to define how they're related to each other #& accidentally invoking imagery of European royal families terrible marriage practices #If Bruce wasn't on the verge of trying to adopt the sassy ghost girl *before* all this he absolutely is now #Kon thought his family dynamics were fucking weird but now he's just grateful he doesn't need to use a chart to explain it #what do you *mean* you're older sister could also qualify as your grandma & your older brother is kinda your dad??#And who the FUCK is Vlad and why does it seam like he's somehow responsible for all this?#even the demon they pulled Dan in to help with has stopped what he was doing in vague horror and concern for what's going on here

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thebookbutterfly · 3 months

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Get ready because it’s time for girl-dad!Simon Riley part 2.

We all know that Simon’s daughter would have him wrapped around her little finger. So, of course he’s going to spoil her with his military salary. She is never unreasonable about it but when she really wants something all she has to do is bat her tiny little eyelashes at him and it’s game over.

She has a wealth of Barbies, sparkly dresses, pink t-shirts with skulls on them and light up sketchers. Her favourite doll (much to your amusement) was a soldier action figure she had begged Simon to buy. “It’s just like you daddy!” She had squealed, little pigtails bouncing as she dragged him to see what she had found. 5 minutes later they had left the store GI Joe in hand, and Simon, with watery eyes (not that he would admit it).

When he is away on deployment it is the one thing she takes everywhere. She had very quickly been unable to fall asleep without it.

When Simon finally gets back he wants to spend as much time with his little girl as possible. You can’t count how many times you had opened the front door to find Simon’s huge frame hunched up on a tiny chair in your daughter’s room. His eyes were always warm and his scarred mouth set in a soft smile as he pretended to take sips of tea from the teensy pink teacup she had handed him. The sight of him there, messy blond hair filled with glittery butterfly clips, while being bossed around by a girl 1/10th his size never failed to be amusing.

And oh boy would his daughter boss him around. When they play dolls Simon is under a strict set of rules. One of which being that if he was going to play Barbies with her then he HAS to use his girl voice. Between his naturally deep timbre and his accent it is a bit of a strangled impression. But he gives it his all every time.

The idea of this big, scarred, war-hardened man being soft and gentle with his daughter has me down HORRENDOUS. I need to lie down—

#ghost is and will forever be girl dad coded you can’t change my mind #once again i am plagued by thoughts of ghost being a softie #ghost is babygirl #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod modern warfare #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #konig cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii #ghost mw2

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tamsinbeybey-she-no-porcupine · 7 months

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His proud little "she got me on that one...well played, well played indeed" dad smile

I can't.

#i love him your honour #he is Allisons dad #also when he says clever girl he also looks so proud and slightly annoyed...annoyed isn't the right word though #anyhow it gives s1 cap smug vibes #i love this so much #also oh boy he looked so gorgeous in that scene #like aesthetic attraction going through the damn roof #bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts spoilers #my creaky boy #bbc ghosts series 5 spoilers #my comfort middle-aged man ben willbond

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 3 months

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Yeah im logging off-

#SHE BROUGHT HER DAD 😭#also ignore the owo #lethal company #lethal company bracken #lethal company ghost girl #my screenshots

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kkvqwrites · 1 year

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A Visitor

Someone from Simon's past comes knocking.

Word count: 1,480

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, fem!reader (no use of y/n)

CW: Mentions of past abuse/DV

A/N: This is technically canon divergent since Simon's dad is presumed dead. Also I could have sworn his name was Lee in the comic but when I went back to check I couldn't find it, so it'll do.

The knock at the door came at perhaps the worst possible time. Simon had dozed off watching rugby with the baby snoozing on his chest, one of his large hands plenty big enough to support her. The man was a notoriously light sleeper, and always vigilant, so it was nice to see him relaxed enough to doze off.

You hurried to the door, hoping against hope the knock didn’t wake the two sleeping beauties. You hadn’t been expecting company, so your secondary hope was that it wasn’t someone who wanted to linger. Upon opening the door, though, you froze, perplexed. Standing before you was someone you’d never seen before.

The man was old, but how old it was hard to say. His clothes were worse-for-wear and he looked like he hadn’t showered in days. The wrinkles in his face betrayed a permanent smirk. He was rough around the edges, not just in appearance but in the way he carried himself. You had half a mind to ask if he was there asking for charity, but the words stuck in your throat. Something about this man made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“Can I help you?”

“Dame of the house, I presume?” The words were polite enough on their face, but something about the way he said them grated, as did the way his eyes raked over you as he said them.

“Yes. Can I help you?” you repeated, hoping to speed this interaction along.

“Name’s Lee Riley, here to see my son.”

The name wasn’t familiar, except for the surname. Dumbly, you blinked at the man for a few seconds before realization struck.

Oh.

Oh no.

Simon had inherited his mother’s warm brown eyes, but looking closely you were able to see traces of him in the man’s stature and bone structure. Standing before you wasn’t just any random person, but a monster you had heard about only in stories. You felt sick looking at that smirking face, knowing it was the same face Simon had to look at as a boy facing relentless abuse and terror.

Instinctively, you squeezed the door shut just a bit tighter, as if to barricade yourself in the house and keep him out. The two people you loved most in the world were inside, blissfully unaware of the piece of shit on your doorstep, and you intended to keep it that way.

“Get off my porch and never come back here.” You willed your voice not to betray how uneasy you felt. The man barked a snarling laugh.

“Ha! Mouthy bird my son went and found himself. Just like his old man.”

“He’s nothing like you,” you spat, your voice struggling not to rise alongside your temper. “And there’s nothing for you here, so get -”

A hand on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks. Simon stood behind you, the gurgling baby in his other arm. His eyes were fixed over your shoulder on his father, expression unreadable.

“Take her and go upstairs.” His tone was gentle, not a reproach but a warning to get far away from whatever was about to happen. You hesitated only a moment, silently praying for some way to save Simon from this confrontation. He spent so much of his life fighting against his father, against the beatings and the fear and the expectations that he’d grow up to be just like him. You were desperate, in that moment, to spare him one more fight. But one glance between the two men, at the stare-down they were having, made your shoulders sag in defeat. This was something that had to happen, and you and the baby being in the crossfire would only make it worse.

You lifted your daughter into your arms and made your way upstairs to the nursery. Once safely inside, surrounded by soft pink toys and blankets and baby books, you wanted to cry. Simon never got the opportunity to be soft, never got the tenderness he showed you and your baby. Getting out some blocks to let the baby play, you couldn’t help but wonder what was going on downstairs on the porch.

What you couldn’t see, what no one could see or hear, was the war that was going on inside Simon’s head as he took in the sight before him. The shriveled old man before him had once loomed so tall it seemed impossible to ever escape him. Now, half-bent and coming up to his son’s collarbone, it was almost laughable. This was the tyrant who robbed him and his brother of their childhoods; this was the coward who had beaten his sweet, joyful mother down into a zombie. He had seen her just now in your defensive posture, and something in him had gone scarily quiet. Ready. Eager, even.

He had done it once; bullied the bully and forcibly removed his father from the home, and he was all too ready to do it again. He was ready, in that moment, to do whatever it took to be the wall between this evil on his doorstep and the family he had built, that which he cherished above all else. The nerve of this piece of shit, the gall to show up out of the blue like this and contaminate the doorstep had Simon’s anger rising in a persistent wave.

“Why are you here?” His tone didn’t betray the storm of emotions roiling under his skin; he’d had that trained out of him long ago. He didn’t much care what the answer was. What he was really thinking was Say something. Try something. I dare you. I want you to. Let’s finish this.

“Can’t an old, sentimental man visit his son? The manners of your generation!” The man’s taunting expression and jeering tone were almost enough to get his face flattened into the ground. Almost.

“I’m no son of yours - you said that yourself. Now I suggest you take my wife’s advice and go back to whatever hole you crawled out of.”

“Wife! Atta boy,” the man cackled, barreling on and completely ignoring him. “And a tyke too. Taking after the old man after all, are we?”

Simon’s knuckles flexed. You were right when you said he was nothing like the man standing before him; he had worked hard to be sure of it. Every therapy session, every time he communicated with you when he was upset, every time he cooled off before arguing, every time he looked at his infant daughter and vowed silently to the universe to only ever show her safety and love, he was making sure of it. Every time he used his strength and brutality - perhaps the only gifts his father ever gave him - for the good and safety of the world and made the decision not to bring it home with him he was making sure of it. Every time he used his pay to pay bills and take care of the house instead of spending it at the pub, he was making sure of it. Every time he nurtured the friendships and brotherhood he had with his teammates, he was making sure of it. Everything he was as a man, as a husband, as a father, was in spite of his upbringing, not because of it. And he would be damned if this man would take credit for any of it.

It was on the tip of his tongue, this acidic rebuttal, when realization struck: he’d won. He’d grown into a man he was proud to be, a man who embodied everything his father had tried to beat out of him. He’d created a home where he and his loved ones felt safe, he’d found a good-hearted woman and built her up rather than draining the life from her, and now she was a great mother to his daughter. His beautiful little daughter who would never know the fear, the hunger, and the confusion that had marked his earliest years.

The realization was shocking and humbling, and he blinked, taking in the scene before him with seemingly new eyes. The dirty, snarling man before him was nothing. Not a challenge, not a threat, nothing more than a nuisance. Not worth the air it would take to explain why he was wrong, and certainly not worth putting his hands on and causing a scene.

Simon let out a long breath, and with it, decades’ worth of something to prove. The man before him wouldn’t hear it, and couldn’t understand it, and that was okay. Because Simon understood it, and you understood it, and one day your daughter would understand too. He could see his future stretching out before him, and there simply was no room for the mean little man on his porch.

“If you ever come back here, you’ll regret it.” He said, finally.

And then he closed the door.

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