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Wonderful ( ´ ▽ ` ).。o♡( ´ ▽ ` ).。o♡
Ghost Head Cannons||: Dad Life - Newborn Edition
( No Gender specified for Kiddo or User )
Dad!Simon, who just can't stop staring at his little baby as he holds them in his arms, even when he passes them back to you, he can't stop staring at the little bundle, his head resting on your shoulder.
Dad!Simon, who did cry silently with joy when he was alone with them, processing the fact he's actually got a little family of his own, the possibility once seeming so far from him.
Dad!Simon, who's more than used to staying up long nights, happily taking up the nightshifts while you get proper rest, not letting you take more than needed.
Dad!Simon, who remembers how to change diapers after helping care for his late nephew, so there's no debate when the time comes to it and you're busy.
Dad!Simon, who talks to the kid like he would another grown person, like they'll understand or retain any of rants he shares "'M only sayin', Price keeps trustin' yer Uncle Johnny to handle the recruits, we're only gonna get a army of Johnny's and I can barely handle one as it is." *Baby makes a low noise or flails a tiny hand* "Y'know that's exactly what he did, toss a hand and gruff at me when I told 'im that, but 'M tellin' you, it's just gonna be a headache at the end of it."
Dad!Simon, who goes about the trouble of finding "excuses" to hang out with his own kid, always cooking or helping clean with them in his arms when he has the chance to, "Look at you, layin' about like yer gonna live rent free forever. Oh no, you and I are gonna do some work round the house together, start you early on how things are run here."
Dad!Simon, who, yes, does explain every recipe and chore to the baby. You're not quite sure if he's legitimate about it or it's for his own amusement, but he looks happy anyways.
That’s my Man ( ´ ▽ ` ).。o♡( ´ ▽ ` ).。o♡
Gaz with piercings please!! 😩💎✨
\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/ stuck with me forever XD
Hi! I absolutely love your writing and I've been stalking your page for a while now and I'm really surprised no one requested that one old tik tok trends of S/Os grabbing thier partners feet from under the bed.
PLEASE I NEED TO KNOW THE COD MEN REACTION 😭😭😭😭😭
The way I cackled over this. I love a good prank, especially when there is nothing malicious or nasty behind it. Thank you so much for sending this in!! I had a freaking blast with this. Also, genuinely startled/surprised 141 is just a hilarious concept to me. Enjoy!!
For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE
Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)
Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, hijinks & shenanigans, pranks, established relationship
Word Count: 800
ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist
John Price
It’s unfair to do this to John, but he makes it so easy. He falls for every one of your pranks. Speedwalks right into them.
And this one is no exception.
You’ve smushed yourself underneath the bed. It’s possible you won’t be able to get out. But that’s a problem for later. Right now, you’re about to scare John.
“I’m home,” he calls out.
You remain quiet. Distantly, you hear the front door shut, and John’s heavy footfalls.
“Dove. I’m home.”
Still, you remain silent.
John calls your name this time. You do not respond.
“Cabbage?”
This time, you almost snort. John doesn’t call you cabbage unless he’s being sincere.
John appears in the doorway, pausing just outside. He takes one step, and then another. He’s just out of reach, booted feet near but not close enough.
“Car’s out front.”
Another step.
You grin, and grab at his ankles.
“What in the bloody—”
John stumbles back, nearly trips, and then rights himself. You cackle, and John sighs. Wiggling closer to the edge of the bed, you bring your face into the light.
“Welcome home,” you grin.
John shakes his head. “I’m not helping you get out from under there.”
John "Soap" MacTavish
You silently chuckle to yourself, rubbing your hands together like some comic book villain. Johnny is just off the game with Simon, walking around the house looking for you.
“Darling,” he calls out, that Scottish lilt making the pet name even sweeter.
You stay hidden, watching him pass the bedroom not once but twice.
Even from your hiding spot, you can hear him muttering to himself as he searches room to room.
His feet and ankles appear, pausing just inside the doorway before heading straight to the bathroom. He checks there, and then the closet.
As Johnny passes by the bed to leave, you take a swipe at his feet.
“Oi!” he shouts, spinning around.
You wait a beat. He takes a step. Pauses. When he attempts to leave again, you make another pass.
This time Johnny yells, rushing for the door, returning seconds later. Moving to his hands and knees, Johnny looks under the bed—but only at a safe distance.
“You,” he says, smirking. He starts crawling toward you.
“Johnny,” you warn, but it’s too late. He’s reaching under the bed, wrestling you out from under it, peppering you with sloppy kisses that leave smears of salvia behind.
Simon "Ghost" Riley
Simon is fresh up from a nap. He has no idea you’re currently hiding under the bed. But you’ve taken his phone, placed it on the bed as bait, making calls on it to herd him toward your hiding spot.
Simon appears, stopping directly beside the side of the bed. Slowly, you reach out, and then manically flail about, grabbing at his sock-covered feet.
You expect that your actions might surprise him. He might even make a sound, or even swear. What you didn’t expect is to hear your unshakably dreary husband let out a shriek like that of a startled old woman. Pulling your hand back, you cover your mouth, stifling a snort.
“Bloody hell!” he shouts, taking a few steps back.
He pauses a moment, and then gets down onto his knees before flattening himself across the floor.
“Come here,” says Simon, voice eerily calm.
Oh. Oh no.
“I’d rather not,” you reply, knowing that Simon is already brewing up a punishment.
“Come out, love.”
You scoot further away. “Your tone is too neutral, Simon.”
“Everything’s fine.”
“Is it?”
“I’m calm.”
You’re nearly out the other end.
“I’ll chase you,” he smirks.
You make a run for it.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
“I’m in here, Kyle,” you call out as you slide yourself beneath the bed.
You wiggle around until you’re hidden, waiting for him to follow your voice. You hear his footfalls before he appears.
“I thought we—” He comes to a stop just inside the door. “Babe?” A pause, and then he says your name. Then, softly, “where are you hiding?”
As he steps into the room, and heads for the bathroom, his feet pass by your hiding spot. This is your only opportunity before he figures out that you’re beneath the bed.
You reach out, just brushing your fingertips against him, then retreat.
“Fucking hell!” he shouts, stumbling backward.
You do it again, and this time he growls your name. Taking a step back, Kyle drops onto his stomach, gaze narrowed as it focuses on you.
“Really?” he asks, deadpan.
“I found it hilarious,” you reply.
Kyle sighs and shakes his head. “Move over.”
“What?”
Shoving himself underneath, Kyle drags himself across the floor until you’re shoulder to shoulder under the bed.
“Bloody filthy down here,” observes Kyle. “Needs a good dusting.” He winks. “Got a spider in your hair, love.”
“I regret this so much,” you whisper.
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