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babygirl-riley · 9 months

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Small Traditions

Simon starts to notice the small signs that his mother would do when he was young to what he now does with his girls

A/N: GUYS naturally I had to use @ave661 art cause listen ovaries HURT anytime she posts the dad!simon series 😭

“That she's gettin' older and I wish that you'd met her. The things that she'll learn from me, I got them all from you.”

Warnings: angst, fluff, dad!simon, mentions of childhood trauma, missing mom hours, swearing

Taglist

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family

Simon was finally able to actually spend time with his baby girl. He was gone for a while, 3 months to be exact. Which made his baby 6 months old, he missed out on appointments and her first roll over on her tummy. So when he came home, he made it a mission to spend anytime and every time with her.

When she woke up early in the morning he turned to you, feeling you getting up. “No love stay asleep, ‘ll get the little one.” He mumbled, waking up a bit.

You hummed and laid back down immediately passing back out. Simon put on a black shirt as he adjusted his sweats as well. He made his way to his babygirl’s room. She was standing up holding onto the rail of her crib. Her smile beaming as she giggled, jumping up and down.

“Ah isn’t the little rascal,” Simon smiled chuckling lightly. She reached up for him as he picked her up. She placed his head on his shoulder and gripped his shirt. “I’m happy to see ya too princess.”

Simon changed her diaper and started to make his way into the kitchen. His daughter cooed as he held her close. She would play with his shirt or put it in her mouth. “See ya starting’ to teethin’.” He said softly, letting her suck the shirt.

After making the bottle he went into the living room to put on the tv. He set her on the couch with him on the edge, she was old enough to hold the bottle herself so he just watched. Her hands gripping her bottle as she chugged the milk down.

Simon chuckled now sitting on his calfs. “Damn little one, ya that hungry?”

He never knew if she was listening or even understanding by how her eyes would just stare blankly. As he stared at her, he noticed the small things. The features that would bring his heart to swell but also break a bit. The dimples that she had were in the same spot that his mother had.

Simon picked her little feet up and played with them as he thought. His mother would be proud of where he is at. The family he created after all the pain he went through. Never would have thought to be a father, after what he saw with his father. He was afraid to become him. To be him. Yet here he was, with a baby girl.

“Grandma would have loved ya,” He mumbled kissing her little socked feet. She sighed as she fought back a laugh, she was very ticklish on her feet. Just like Tommy, as kids Simon used to piss him off by tickling his feet. Simon inhaled deeply before shaking his head. He didn’t need to get emotional, there was no need. However just the way his daughter had some of the features conjured them. “Would love the way you look so much like me, have some similarities from her, hell Uncle Tommy would make fun of actually settling down.” He chuckled to himself.

He never thought even before the tragedy of his family that he would settle down. Family was plagued by his father. His childhood made Simon not want to give his own children one solely on fear of course. Yet here he is. Half of him and half of you. He would never trade it for the world.

Simon has even noticed the things he would do that his mother would do before his father was shunned away from the family. The way she would hum particular child songs to calm both him and his brother down. How when dad wasn’t home, she would whip up a random treat, particularly peanut butter bars. In which, your child has become addicted to them. Or when putting him to bed she would say ‘never forget, you’re smart, you’re handsome, and you’re loved.’ Instead his babygirl would be replacing handsome with beautiful.

Simon would only do it when you weren’t around, whispering it softly. Even though he doesn’t know you usually are around the corner, listening to him, with tears. Simon noticed these things as time grew on with his daughter. It didn’t hit him until now. Thinking of all the things that his mom would do with her grand baby. The family dinners. The babysitting. The holidays. All of it.

Simon noticed that tears were at the edge of his eyes. He shook his head and coughed then grabbed her little feet and softly ran his thumb from her heel to her tiny toes. “Ya made me soft ya brat.” He tickled her foot as she let out a laugh kicking his hands away.

Years gone past and now he has three of them. He stood in the kitchen as he placed lunches in certain boxes. You needed help as you did hair and gathered their school things. Simon never could do hair hell not even his youngest’s hair and she was 1. “Dad! I can’t find my shoes!” Millie yelled as she ran down the stairs.

Simon sighed and smirked. “Well since you didn’ put them away, I threw them in the trash.”

Millie stopped in her tracks and had the same smirk that was on his face on hers. “Uh huh, really though please.”

Simon smiled and nodded. “‘ight ‘light, they’re in the closet with the coats,” She shook her head and went towards the door. Simon placed the last thing in the last box. “Start puttin’ them in ya room yeah?”

Millie nodded and looked at him. “Aye,” She walked up to him and lifted her finger. “Love ya see you after?”

Simon looked down at her finger, his mom would tap his finger, going once up and they would switch sides and tap again. It was their way of saying bye and love you when dad had his beer and game review on. Simon smiled and tapped her finger as they flipped them over to do it again. “I’ll be pickin’ ya both up.”

“Daddy! Daddy,” His head snapped up to see his second daughter soaring down the stairs. “Look what mum did!” Her hair was in to braids that linked into one large one. A smile beaming on her face. Showing one of the dimples his mother once had.

Simon chuckled grabbing a small piece of it before placing his thumb on her cheek. “Looks beautiful Alli,” He said softly then kissed her on her forehead. Simon looked up the stairs and saw you smiling down, holding the newborn. “Ya takin’ them?”

You nodded as you walked down the stairs. “Yes I have to grab more things from the store.”

Simon and you already talked about the store and her taking Millie and Allison to school. Simon pushed and pushed to only get pushed back, eventually compromises came and he staying to give you a break from the 2 month old. Then he could pick up the girls after school. You handed Tessa over to Simon. “Already changed just needs to be held. Needy this morning.” You whispered kissing Simon softly on the lips.

“Roger,” He mumbled as he kissed her one more time hearing Allison fake gag. Simon chuckled as he turned handing you the boxes. “Packed and ready.”

“Thank you,” You smiled, grabbing them, and ushering the older two out the door. “I’ll be back!”

“Bye dad!” Millie yelled walking out first.

“Bye daddy!” Allison followed suite turning to sign ‘I love you’ with one hand.

Simon did it back cradling Tessa between his chest and bicep. You smiled at him, kiss towards him. He smiled as the door shut. Tessa wiggled and started to whine. “Shh shh,” He whispered looking down at her. “It’s ‘light we can go down stairs and watch somethin’ yeah?”

Later that day Millie and Allison opened their lunch boxes that day and found a small sugary snack with a note attached reading; ‘what do you call an angry carrot… A steamed veggie.’ They always loved it, having notes from dad that had terrible jokes even if Millie would roll her eyes and smirk. She loves them.

You didn’t know about it until the next day. You were check boxing everything that was needed to grab as Simon helped with Tessa. When you opened it you saw the note, chuckling to yourself. Millie stood next to you and looked at you. “Dad says that Grandma Riley would leave jokes for him and Tommy.”

You looked over at her and up to the stairs, making sure he wasn’t coming yet. “Oh really?”

“Yeah,” Millie smiled. “I always read ‘em to my friends. Just don’t tell him. His head will inflate more.” She joked grabbing her box.

You smiled as you watched Simon come down the stairs in his uniform. “I shouldn’ be long,” he mumbled having his balaclava in his pocket. Millie frowned as did Allison. “I told Uncle Price I’ll be late to take you two.” He smiled at them as their faces calmed into a soft content expression.

Simon handed Tessa to you and kissed your cheek. “I’ll be home no later than 8.” You nodded and watched them go out the door.

Simon opened the door for both Millie and Allison to get in as they went down the street. “Was Grandma Riley fun?” Millie asked nonchalantly as she looked out the window.

Simon could feel his throat hitch from the sudden question. “Yes.”

“Do you do things like she did to us?”

Simon looked in the rear view mirror for a brief moment. Only if she knew, all the things his mother taught him has been passed down to his girls. After his father was kicked out for good his mother was more open about good parenting, she always was of course. However there wasn’t any hidden signs or anything of the sort. Even when he was older, when confrontation came around, she was kind and gentle. Since both him and his brother didn’t know how to handle or deal with situations as so.

Simon taught his girls to be polite and kind to everyone. Just like his mother was. Everything she did that he remembered he wanted to pass along. Simon inhaled for a moment. “Ya know the finger taps,” Both her and Allison nodded their heads. “That came from grandma. It was our sign to say love you and bye.”

Allison smiled. “Did she do the night routine?”

Simon smiled. “Yes.”

It was silent again before Millie shifted a bit. “Grandma Riley sounded cool.”

Simon smiled again and nodded. “She would have loved all of ya.”

It was good silent as he stopped in front of the school, as kids packed to go inside. Allison opened the door and turned with her finger out. Simon and her did the signature finger taps as she hopped out. He waited until she caught up with friends that were right outside the car. Then he went to Millie’s school.

“What happened to them?” Millie asked, Simon knew that eventually the girls would put two and two. Uncle Tommy and Grandma Riley not around, yet dad talks highly of them? It would make a tween curious.

Simon took a second to think of the answer. He never told you until 3 years of your guys’ relationship. Millie was too young to know but he couldn’t lie to her either. “Someday I will tell you.” Was all he could say to it.

Millie nodded and chuckled. “Was she terrible at the jokes like you?”

Simon laughed a bit. “Terrible? My jokes are amazin’!”

Millie rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Yeah yeah.” Simon pulled up in front of the school and he turned to her. She unbuckled and lifted her finger, smiling. “Glad you keeping’ traditions dad. Grandma would be happy.”

Simon felt his chest tighten as he smiled it off. Doing the taps. “She would be happy indeed,” He nodded his head to the school. “Get goin’ ya love the joke today by the way.”

Millie laughed as she opened the door and shook her head once more. “Yeah maybe.”

Simon watched until she got into the school and drove to the base. “You would have loved ‘em mum.” He mumbled to himself as he kept the tears at bay.

Even through all the hardships, he will be forever grateful for his mother and her teachings. He hopes that one day that she will meet his family, the family that he knows she would have loved. To see how much as changed in Simon that he thought that could never happen. So she could see that not only her that showed him unconditional love even through the darkest parts but how his girls have showed him as well.

Simon sighed as he relaxed. Yeah, she would have loved them all.

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oldbirdwithsomebrain · 6 months

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woo i live! May or may not have been locked in a doctors office for a few days lol. Anyways here take some buzzed 1am doodles for your time!

oo theres also these ones too! honestly LOVE that miss pauling headshot :D

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wordywarriorwrites · 5 months

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Calendar Girl: October

Series Masterlist: Calendar Girl Joel Miller Masterlist Author: @wordywarriorwrites Summary: The story of how Joel Miller falls in love again, told over a series of months. Series Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Language. Violence. Discussions of rape and consent. Alcohol consumption. Age-gap. Chapter Warning: Mention of suicide.

A crack of billiard balls and the shuffle of cards. A clink of mugs and the rattle of ice. Raucous laughter and Ain’t No Mountain High Enough on the jukebox.

Joel closed his left eye, and when the board came into focus, he let the dart fly. It hit the bullseye again, and he clenched his fist in triumph as he moseyed past his brother and retrieved his missiles – all three of which had been clustered neatly together.

“How the hell do you do that?” Tommy groused as he sipped his beer.

“Hearin’s bad. Sight’s just fine,” he quipped as he handed the darts over.

As the jukebox ticked over to Back in Black, Tommy lined up his feet, and took his turn, which hadn’t gone nearly as well as Joel’s. Still, they played until it became clear Joel would win no matter what, and since neither of them had been ready to call it a night, they agreed to play cards, and snagged a table as soon as one was free.

“How’s the kid?” Joel asked as Tommy shuffled.

“Teethin’, crawlin’, and shittin’ cowpies,” he replied as he dealt the hand. “But you’d know that if you stopped by more often.”

“I don’t stop by because your wife hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you.”

Joel arched a brow and retrieved his cards, “You sure about that?”

“Maybe you’d get along better if you tried talkin’ with her,” Tommy suggested as he rearranged his own cards. “Maybe over a civilized dinner?”

“Only if I can bring Ellie has a buffer.”

“Well, I was thinking – maybe you can bring your girl and Ellie can babysit?”

Joel paused with his whisky halfway to his mouth, “What? Like a double date?”

“A civilized dinner,” Tommy reiterated.

They both fell silent as they showed their hands, and once victory was declared by the dealer, Joel snagged the deck and shuffled. Sweet Home Alabama lasted long enough for another round, another hand, and another loss for him. Tommy had a shit poker face, but somehow always managed to squeak by, and Joel was defeated three more times before his brother called for a time out.

“Gonna hit the head,” he announced as he got to his feet. “I’ll get us another round on the way back. Wanna play pool?”

Joel nodded. Tommy rapped the table with his knuckles in acknowledgment, and as he headed for the restroom, Joel got up and headed for the worn cue sticks lined up on the wall. Marked-up top rails, torn felt, and ragged leather pockets – the table had certainly seen better days, and as he examined it closely, he wondered if it would be possible to either refurbish it or build a new one.

There always seemed to be something that needed tending, and Joel had been tapped for a lot of fixups and builds, but he hadn’t done much for the towns or his own enjoyment. He’d like to have a project – assuming he could get the supplies – and had just started making a mental list of what he’d need when Tommy walked over with you in tow.

Hair in a braid across your shoulder and a beer in hand. Long sleeves of one of his flannels pushed up past your elbows and what he’d learned were your favorite blue jeans. Bright eyes and an even brighter smile – you’d just come from a ride with Bella, and he could smell the hay and sweat on your skin when he kissed your cheek.

“Tommy says he’s invited us to dinner,” you said by way of greeting. “But apparently, you’re being a stubborn ass about it?”

Joel glared at his brother, “Seriously?”

“I said you didn’t seem like you were into it,” he rushed to explain.

“Which is bro-code for you’re being a stubborn ass,” you supplied.

He snagged his drink from Tommy’s hand. Took a long swallow. You looked at him with mock sympathy and patted his chest. His little brother – the shithead – just grinned behind the rim of his mug. Joel knew the two of you had conspired against him, but that didn’t mean he had to take it lying down.

“I don’t wanna play with you anymore,” he sniffed.

Tommy barked out a laugh, “What are you, a five-year-old?”

“Joel, you and I will play,” you insisted as you stepped between them. “And if you win, we won’t go to dinner at Tommy’s. If I win, we will. Deal?”

He looked at your outstretched hand for a moment before he deposited his glass on a nearby table and shook it. Once the bargain had been struck, Tommy smirked and moved out of the way. Joel looked at him expectantly, but he uncharacteristically kept his mouth shut.

“I’ll rack, you break?” you suggested.

Joel agreed. Potted a solid on the first shot. Sunk another before his third shot went wide. You examined the table. Bent at the waist. Sank a stripe. You lined up for a second but struck a little too zealously; the cue ball popped up off the table, but Joel caught it before it fell, and your foul meant he could place the cue to his advantage.

He put three more solids in the pockets before he missed. You took another turn and pocketed two before you double-clutched the cue. Your foul enabled him to sink his final three all too easily, and with only the eight-ball left, victory was within his grasp.

Joel patted you on the ass as he moved around you, “Hope you’re not a sore loser, sweetheart.”

You scoffed. He leaned over the table. The shot was beyond clear – so clear, in fact, that he looked at you when he took it. Problem was, he’d been a bit too cocky. The eight-ball went in, and the cue hung precariously on the edge before it followed.

“Well, shit,” he muttered.

“Oh, I get to go again!” you cheered gleefully as you retrieved the eight-ball.

Confident he still had the advantage, he stepped back, and let you take your turn. After the eight-ball was spotted, you placed the cue, and Joel watched as you proceeded to wipe the floor with him. You moved like you knew your way around the table, and when you sank the eight-ball, he knew he’d been played.

Tommy whooped it up and saluted you with his beer, “Guess I’ll be seein’ you both on Friday, then, yeah?”

Joel groaned, and in a mirror image of what he’d done to you earlier, you walked behind him, gave his ass a firm pat, and told him not to be a sore loser. You made your way over to the wall cue rack and he followed. After both sticks were returned, he snagged you around the waist and placed his mouth over your ear.

“Fuckin’ shark,” he snarled. “I’ll deal with you later.”

You pressed back against him and laughed, “Promise?”

Joel groaned. Dug his fingers into the meat of your hips. Prayed his cock behaved until the two of you were at least out of his brother’s sight. Tommy got you a celebratory shot, and after you knocked it back, you asked him if there was anything you could bring to dinner.

“Just bring yourself,” he insisted. “And make sure this one doesn’t bolt.”

You guaranteed both your presence and his, and with that, Tommy announced he needed to get home to Maria and his boy. While you darted off to use the bathroom, Joel accompanied his brother to the exit.

“Why are you insisting on having dinner?” he asked.

Tommy clapped him on the shoulder, “You forget – Maria and I have known her longer than you have. We understand what you see in her. We just wanna know what she sees in you.”

Joel huffed. Tommy smirked. They exchanged a hug that involved a lot of back slapping, and you came out just in time to see him off. Tommy headed in one direction. Joel accompanied you in the opposite. You held his arm as you walked together toward your house, but instead of going inside, you guided him toward the back porch.

He sat down on the swing first, and after you followed and tucked your feet up, he wrapped his arm around you and snuggled you close. Joel asked you if you were warm enough, and you nodded and rested your head against his chest.

“We don’t have to go,” you murmured. “Not if you really don’t want to.”

“If you’re goin’, I’m goin’.”

“Alright, then. It’s a date.”

Joel chuckled and squeezed your arm, “Yeah, sweetheart. I guess it is.”

Next Chapter: November

#joel miller x reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fan fiction #calendar girl

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roosterbruiser · 1 year

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"go to sleep, you haven't gotten any rest in the past couple of days" with Step Dad Rhett wanting to take care of baby so Mama can rest??

Forrest hasn't been sleeping well at all.

not even just the usual wake-up-every-two-hours-wanting-the-boob kind of not sleeping. it's different than that; your bouncing baby boy has been screaming through the night. already you've taken him to the pediatrician (or two or three) and they've all told you the same thing: he's teething. it''ll pass.

you're certain that it's much easier for them to say that when they're not the ones rocking a baby at three in the morning after precisely thirty-three minutes of actual sleep. and even if you had more grit, more patience, more energy, you would still be entirely deflated just hearing those pitiful cries from your baby boy. they puncture the still and quiet air inside your house--so much so that it sometimes makes the neighbors dog's howl.

so, you're spread thin. so thin that you're pretty sure you're see-through.

Rhett knows this as soon as you answer the door. he's smiling softly just in anticipation of seeing you--but when you swing the door open, Forrest tucked against your chest and wailing, that soft smile dissipates immediately.

"hey," you say, voice stained with tears. "c'mon in."

and then you're walking away from the door, wiping tired tears off your cheeks, sniffling hard. Forrest's little voice is ragged by now, but it hasn't stopped his upset.

"s'goin' on, darlin'?" Rhett asks, quickly stepping into the house and shutting the front door behind him.

he takes in the state of the house: the bottles on the table, the oragel infant on the couch, the unfolded blankets strewn over the chairs, the spinning record in the corner. his heart squeezes; you usually keep such a tidy house, it's important to you.

and if your house wasn't a dead giveaway, than the mere sight of you definitely is. hair thrown up lazily, shoulders practically sitting under your ears, tear-stained face, dry lips, unwashed body.

"teethin'. apparently."

you're still bouncing Forrest, pressing salty kisses against his tufts of brown hair, trying to soothe him.

Rhett feels a little bit out of his depth. he knew what it meant getting involved with you--it meant you and Forrest, always. he can't have one without the other and at this point, a few months in, he doesn't want one without the other.

he watches, wordlessly, from his spot on the entryway rug and racks his brain. how can he help you? tidy up the living room? let you shower? offer to take Forrest on a ride while you rest? he's chewing the inside of his cheek, his thumbs tucked into the pockets of his Levi's when you suddenly turn and meet his gaze.

oh. you're exhausted. like the kind of exhausted that can fall asleep standing up like a horse. the kind of exhausted that makes his heart squeeze in his chest.

"darlin'," Rhett starts softly, crossing the living room to stand before you.

if you were any less tired, you'd be embarrassed about your tears. but you just sniffle and look up at him, entire body pulsing and aching.

"I'm so tired," you say quietly, still bouncing. "I'm so tired that it's scarin' me, Rhett."

Rhett, with his breath held in his throat, gently swipes the tears from your face. you relish in the warmth of his rough palm, inhaling all that leather on his skin, and almost let your eyes flutter shut.

but then Rhett is taking Forrest from you, his eyes pouring into yours, reading every crease between your brows and pull of your lips. he doesn't wanna overstep.

you let him take Forrest--your arms falling limp at your sides, vibrating with tired.

and in Rhett's arms, Forrest looks tinier than ever. how could something that small make you feel this fucking tired? and all that tired, all that sadness, washes away entirely when Rhett presses a kiss to the top of Forrest's fuzzy head. he hasn't stopped wailing, not, not yet. but Rhett's got this. his arms are secured, his hands are in the right place, his nose is pressing against his head.

"we'll be alright, huh?" Rhett whispers to Forrest, pressing a few more kisses to the top of his head, inhaling all that milk and talcum powder on his skin. "'ve got this, huh, bubba?"

you're fairly certain that your heart is about to pump out of your chest and fall right onto the floor, staining the wood.

Rhett looks away from Forrest's ruddy cheeks up to your face, which is wet with tears all over again.

"s'wrong?" he asks you, securing Forrest against him before he reaches out to stroke your cheek. you fall into his touch and his throat aches with affection. "this okay?"

you nod profusely. you've just never seen a man love Forrest the way Rhett does. in fact, you've never seen any man love Forrest at all.

"m'so happy," you whimper.

a smile tugs at Rhett's lips.

"thought you were so tired it scared ya?" he says.

you shake your head, sniffling.

"not anymore," you tell him.

he nods. and when he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead, his scruff delicately scratching your skin, Forrest finally starts to quiet. he's still crying, sure, but Rhett reckons he would be, too, if he was cutting three teeth at once.

"get some rest, mama," Rhett insists, muffled from your own skin. "we've got this, alright? me and Forrest're gonna be just fine."

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