#daddy simon

Afternoon naps — Sleepy! Reader x Simon

Just thinking about how Simon was never the type of person who could take random naps through the day— until you.

You’d dragged him with you to take your daily nap in your soft, cozy, comfortable, pink, nest look like bed, changing into your, it was his but you claimed it has yours now, oversized shirt and some comfy panties. He’d just take his shirt and socks off because he just knew he was going to get a little hot when you’d wrap him up in your cozy pink blankies.

At first, he would fight you a little, stubborn man and his own little way to make you know he really wanted it but wasn’t sure, to then give up and let you prepare him for the nap. He’d tell himself he just wanted to for you to take your nap in peace and then when you’d fall asleep he could just get up do his own thing.

Of course that was not the case.

He’d end up taking one of the best naps he have ever taken in his life, and your would just look at him with a soft smile knowing that he needed it just like you did

It became a thing of you two, a routine where you’d just give him a kiss and a little tug on his shirt and he knew it was time to take a nap of the day.

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

It doesn't take long for a routine to be established. Simon stops by, at least for a little bit, most days. He brings something from the neighborhood bakery by for breakfast, or helps you fix dinner, and naturally there is still the occasional park playdate.

"We need to take it slow," you'd told him that night in the kitchen, when the two of you had kissed until your lips were pink and swollen from his attention. "I don't want Charlie to get confused."

And that was fine by him -- still is. The beauty of it all is that he doesn't just care for you, but for your children, too, and if you think moving slow is best, then that's just what you'll do. He's got all the time in the world.

Except, of course, until he doesn't.

It's been a few weeks of this, and just when he's starting to feel like he could actually be lucky enough for this to be the rest of this life, he gets the call. Another mission, a longer one this time from the outset.

He's got to tell you, and he's got to leave you. The thought tears him up inside. He pictures this beautiful little life he's just started carving out for himself passing by without him, and the darker parts of his mind picture you realizing that maybe you're better off without a man who can only take care of you parttime.

You try your best to ease those notions. You've gotten pretty good at reading him, and you can see the self doubt etched in his face soon after he gives you the news of his impending departure. You give him sweet kisses and hold him, whispering to him about how you'll miss him, and he wants so badly to believe it.

It's Charlie, the night before he's off, that really calms his nerves.

After dinner, Simon sits beside you on the couch while you hold Emma, and he tries to convince himself that when he comes back, things will be just like this. Charlie had run off to his room, and when he comes back, he climbs onto the couch, kneeling beside him with his little hand on his shoulder.

"All right, Charlie?" he asks.

Without a word, the boy reaches out his other hand, and in it he holds a beaded bracelet. Obviously homemade, it's mostly made of black beads, with some yellow and pink ones scattered in with no real pattern.

He glances at you, and you smile at him, so he takes the bracelet, and looks at it closer, not quite understanding the presentation.

"It's nice," he tells Charlie. "You make it?"

Charlie nods. "It's for you."'

Simon is not a crier in the least -- he's experienced all sorts of pain, physical and emotional, spiritual even, without shedding a tear. But this ... he clears his throat, focusing again on the bracelet and not the darling little boy who gave it to him or his beautiful mother who, every day, he grows more and more certain is the love of his life.

"For me?" he finally says, fighting to keep his voice even. "For what?"

"For when you go," Charlie answers. "So you don't forget about us."

There are no words to describe how outrageous he thinks the idea is, so instead he presses on.

"You pick the colors?"

"Yeah," Charlie answers, leaning over to poke at the bracelet. "Black because that's your favorite color, yellow because it's my favorite color and pink because Mum and Emma are girls."

Simon nods, and slips the bracelet on. He thanks the child, who wraps his arms tightly around his neck before climbing off the couch and heading back to his room.

"He loves you," you tell him with a smile, and he knows you can see how affected his is by the gift.

"Yeah?" Simon asks. "And what about his mum?"

You lean in, carefully as to not disturb the baby, and he meets you the rest of the way. You haven't slept together yet, figuratively or literally, and you've been insistent on taking things slow, but he can't help it. He wants to know where he stands, if you're feeling the same way he is.

Your kiss is soft, and you linger, long enough for him to bring his hand to your cheek to hold you in place just a little longer. When you pull back, you give him another small smile.

"His mother happens to be extremely fond of you."

Simon ends up being gone just shy of two months, and it's miserable, being away from you for so long. He keeps the bracelet safe in a pocket on his vest, toying with it in his downtime. It feels like a tether, something that keeps him focused. Something that will pull him home.

When he does get back to town, he slings his bag over his shoulder and walks out of the train station. He plans to drop his things off at his apartment before giving you a call, seeing if you're free, but when he gets to the juncture where he can either continue on towards his building or turn and trek the few extra blocks to your house, it's barely a decision he registers.

He's heading towards you.

There's a brief moment of hesitation after he unlatches the gate and climbs up the steps of your porch. Doubts creep in -- thoughts that tell him that he's been gone for longer than you were together, that you're not expecting him ... maybe that you don't want him anymore.

But Charlie's bracelet, on his wrist now, makes him remember just how good it felt, being a part of your life, and the memory is enough for him to knock.

All the doubts leave him, a rush of wonderful certainty hitting as soon as you open the door, because in your eyes, he sees it -- you missed him too. You take him into your arms, pulling him down to kiss his face, the sound of your happy, surprised laughter like music to his ears, and he's home now. He knows it more than he's ever known anything.

Simon holds you tightly in his arms, kissing you too, his lips landing on your head and your temple, anywhere he can reach, and then there's another, much smaller set of arms around him, and he looks down to see Charlie hugging his legs.

"You came back," he says, his voice muffled.

"Always will."

Simon absolutely strikes me as a dominant man. So he would be surprised when he hears you slam the front door. Stomping into the living room, where he sits, and throwing your bag onto the ground with a groan.

“I have absolutely had it with people today,” you exclaim, punctuated as you drop into the sofa next to him. You adjust into his side so you are leaning fully into him.

Simon chuckles softly, closing the book he had been reading. Throws an arm over your shoulders and pulls you in tight to his side.

“At least your comin’ round to my view on people…” he teased you playfully, only earning an eye roll in jest.

“Yes,” you confirm, and turn your head to look up at him, “which means I’m coming around to your method of dealing with them….Don’t.”

Simon laughed softly again, as he pulled you closer to his side. His hand gently playing with the ends of your hair. The silence settled comfortably between you until…

“Pants off Simon…” you say from next to him. Your voice short and to the point, making his eyebrow quirk up at you.

“What?” You ask, as he studies you. “I’ve had a bad day, and I could use a good fuck…” you say, raising an eyebrow back at him.

Quickly, you sit up and heft yourself off the couch to stand in front of him. Hands on your hips, glaring down at him playfully.

“So do I need to repeat myself?” You ask, your voice the low and dangerous one for once. Simon couldn’t tell, but he was pretty sure he loved this new side. “Pants. Off. Riley.” You say, a wicked smirk on your face.

Simon stands holding his hands up in surrender, as he smirks back at you. Slowly his hands go down to unbutton his jeans.

“Careful Princess….” He warns, but there’s no real heat to it. He’s enjoying this. “Don’t play with fire…”

Simon Riley x reader

The front door clicked open as Y/N stepped into the house, juggling two shopping bags and laughing to herself after a day out with her friends.

"I'm home!" she called.

No answer.

She frowned, setting the bags on the kitchen counter. The house was strangely quiet. Usually Tommy would be blasting music or arguing with someone online.

Then she turned the corner into the hallway and froze.

There was Tommy.

Half-sitting against the wall with no chair beneath him, legs bent at a ninety-degree angle as if he were sitting in thin air. His back pressed flat against the wall, both arms fully extended in front of him, clutching a heavy medicine ball. His face was bright red, his muscles visibly trembling.

Y/N blinked.

"Tommy... what on earth are you doing?"

Without moving so much as an inch, the fifteen-year-old groaned through gritted teeth.

"My punishment from Dad..."

Y/N looked around, completely bewildered.

"Your punishment?"

"Yep."

"For what?"

Tommy sighed dramatically. "I told him his old playlists sounded like they belonged in a museum."

Before Y/N could respond, heavy footsteps approached from the living room.

Simon Riley appeared, coffee mug in hand, wearing his usual unreadable expression.

He took one glance at his son.

"Back straight."

Tommy immediately corrected his posture with a miserable whine.

Y/N folded her arms. "Simon."

Simon raised an eyebrow. "Love."

"Why is our son pretending to be an invisible chair while holding what looks like half the gym?"

"He mouthed off."

Y/N stared at him.

"So your solution was... military wall sits?"

"They build character."

"They build leg cramps."

"They also build respect."

Tommy weakly interrupted, "They build regret."

Simon ignored him.

Y/N tried very hard not to laugh, but the sight of her six-foot-tall teenage son shaking like a leaf while Simon calmly sipped coffee was simply too much.

A snort escaped.

Tommy looked offended. "Mum!"

She covered her mouth, failing spectacularly to hide a smile.

"Sorry, sweetheart."

Simon checked the timer on his watch.

"Thirty seconds."

Tommy's eyes widened in horror.

"Thirty seconds? Dad, I thought I was done!"

"That was before you complained."

Tommy let out the longest sigh Y/N had ever heard.

She walked over and gently took the medicine ball from his hands.

"I think he's learned his lesson."

Simon considered it for a moment before giving a small nod.

"Fine."

The second Simon spoke, Tommy collapsed onto the floor with a dramatic groan, stretching his aching legs.

"I can't feel my quads."

Y/N patted his shoulder.

"Maybe next time don't insult your father's music."

Tommy looked between them.

"So you're taking his side?"

Y/N smiled innocently.

"Oh no. I just know better than to challenge a man who thinks discipline is a recreational activity."

For the briefest moment, Simon's lips twitched into something almost resembling a smile.

They're such good toddlers, as good as they can be as almost two year olds. Their father was in the military, while their mother wasn't in their life. It's not your place to pry. You're simply there to watch the little dears.

You don't hear the footsteps coming up the stairs, but when the hairs on the back of your neck stand up in response to being watched you turn sharply. One arm raising to shield the kids and the other griping the shampoo bottle ready to launch it.

"Easy, just me." Mr. Riley says, coming farther into the bathroom.

"Dada!!" Both of the girls scream, little hands flailing, bubbles flying. It makes you smile.

"Welcome home Mr. Riley, as you can see the girls missed you." You smile at him as he drops to his knees by the tub. He kisses each toddler on their head.

"Missed them too. Told you none of that Mr. Riley shit."

You shush him, "Don't curse in front of them! That's the last thing they need to start saying."

He helps finish bathtime and tucks them into bed. You watch as he reads a book to them, then it's lights out. Baby cam pulled up on your phone as you both head downstairs.

Resting at the kitchen table while you make him a cup of tea, he stares you down. It used to bother you when you first started this live-in nanny job. Now you know it's just how Simon is.

"Oh, your mail is on the counter." You say adding in the small amount of milk he takes. He stands to grab the small pile and sits back down going through it.

Setting his cup in front of him, you sit beside him. You rest your head on your hand, eyes tired. The twins had woken up early today and then refused to take their nap. Must of sensed their daddy was coming home early.

"Can sleep if you want, Love. Don't gotta stay awake for me." He says opening a letter.

"Mmmm, tempting but I've got a mountain of laundry to do still, and I need to finish up the dishes."

"You've taken such good care of the girls, I can help out with chores. I know they can be a handful."

"Simon, it's part of my job description." You laugh softly. "Besides, I love them so much. The little cuties, the chaos is worth it."

He stares for a moment before letting the mail flop to the table. He hooks a foot around the leg of your chair and pulls you closer.

"Such a good momma..." He rumbles. Your cheeks heat as you meet his gaze.

Characters: Simon Riley x Black!Reader.

Summary: Missing your deployed husband, you get a late-night surprise that satisfies both your cravings and loneliness.

Warnings: Steaminess, a bit of angst, loneliness, fluff, mentions of phone sex with suggestive language and descriptions, mild swearing, and lighthearted humor. Oh, and if I hadn’t already made it clear at the top of my blog: minors DNI. My content is for the grown folks👏🏾.

Authors Note: Hello my lovelies🫶🏾! I've been toying with the idea of writing for the Simon Riley/Ghost fandom for a while now. Thanks to some awesome encouragement, I finally took the plunge! This story idea wouldn't leave me alone, so I decided to say, "What the hell," and give it a shot. I hope I captured Simon to the best of my ability. Please remember that this is my first attempt at a Ghost fic…and, well, “I’M JUST A GIRL!🥺🥹😩😆” Okay, a grown woman, but a girl nonetheless. I had a wonderful time writing this, and I hope you all enjoy reading it. Word Count: 1,700+.

(And Sick Simon with Teddy and the second baby 🥹)

Here kitty kitty 😏 expert meme I thank you that’s now mine.

By: Gwendolyn (storiesofchaos) / @shouldntbearevolution

Rating: Explicit

Summary:

Wille feels himself blushing and starts pacing the room he uses as an office, embarrassed to spell it out. He ends up taking the easy way. Wille Like 🐶 ? He has to lock his phone after that, feeling too much, but Simon lights up his screen a moment later. Simon 💜 you want to be my puppy tonight, baby? is that it? (Or, after a particularly exhausting day, Simon gives Wille what he needs.)