Dad Ghost - Tumblr Posts
Dad Ghost resisting the urge to beat up a 7 year old after finding out they’re mean to his kid
ghost resists the urge to beat up anyone who picks on his kids
It’s late. Your eyes are fluttered shut already, but you’re laying your head on his chest and mumbling sleepy, random updates to him. Pieces of information you might’ve forgotten to share over the phone. He’s only been back for a day, but with two kids and an unplanned third on the way, there are so many little things to fill him in on.
“Did she tell you about that boy at school?”
A muscled chest stiffens beneath you. His fingers pause in your hair and he groans.
“Jesus, no. What boy now?”
Your daughter is only five, yet she is quite the talker, constantly sharing with you two details about all her friends and school activities. Simon always did his damned best not to say anything… wrong whenever she mentioned the boys at school. He understood it was normal for her development, her curiosity (yeah, yeah.) That didn’t mean he didn’t hate the growing idea of it, and that he didn’t let a few things slip just to you.
But this time, you sigh and prop your chin on his chest. “Well, he’s this new boy,” you murmur. “And he’s two years older than her-“
“He’s… what?”
“Listen, Simon. This isn’t one she fancies.” You sigh and touch the side of his inked arm gently. “He was… picking on her a bit this week. In the school yard-“
“Picking on her?” Simon repeats, words slipping out slow through tightening teeth. You see a scowl furrow. “How?”
“Well, she told me that he was teasing her about her hair on Monday. But then it turned into him calling her some names-“
“What the fuck?” You feel him shift underneath you, carefully lifting you off his chest only so he can sit up straight. Roughly now, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” you mutter softly. Slipping a hand in his cropped hair. “And I already had a word with her teacher about it.”
“And?”
“She says she’ll keep an eye on it.”
“Keep an eye on it? Bloody hell.” His hand clenches. “What’s the kid’s name, huh?”
“Simon-“
“Maybe I’ll keep a goddamn eye on it-“
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Calling our girl names? Christ, m’gonna fuck him up.”
“You will do no such thing,” you whisper firmly, fitting a hand over his arm. “Let’s just see if it gets better. If not, you can talk to her teacher.”
“M’gonna talk to her damn teacher tomorrow, anyway.”
Your hands gently guide him back to laying down, but his scowl doesn’t soften.
“Gonna talk to this kid, too.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“You were just talking about hurting him.”
Through flared nostrils, he sighs. Loops his arms back around you and softens a bit.
“I won’t, I won’t,” he mumbles, pressing a firm kiss to your hair. “Just gonna talk to him, yeah?”
“How about you just talk to your daughter instead?” You lay your head back to his chest, hearing the steady pounding of his heart. “Talk to her about standing up for herself, okay?”
And he does. Simon has a long talk with his little girl the next day before school, perhaps not in the way you meant for him to. Right here, dove, he murmurs to her quietly so you can’t hear, grabbing her little hand and guiding it gently to his nose. Go for him here if he bothers you again, alright?