#riley it okay i'm joy

[dr-fizzovich]

it's my birthday today :3 that means i am no longer 14 and i can no longer eat people's skin :D /ref /j

[dr-fizzovich]

Test Tube it okay I'm Dr. Fizzojoy 😁

EEEEEEEE TYSM FOR THIS IT'S SO SILLEH HEHEHEHEHRGHEHEGEHJEBEHGE <333 ^_^ :3

riley it okay i'm joy 😁

Dr. Fizzojoy(?)

Joy it okay I'm Test Tube 😁

[sinkovia]

Consequences

-Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Angst, mention of miscarriage, mention of death, blood.

Alternative ending

You sat on your bed, a book in hand, your other hand gently resting on your stomach. The room was filled with a warm and serene atmosphere as you flipped through the pages. You were reading about first-time parents and tips on what to do when you first bring your baby home. It was a moment of quiet joy, and you couldn't help but smile.

You were happier than ever, your face radiant with the anticipation of the life growing inside you. After a string of painful miscarriages, you had made it past the usual time period of uncertainty. You were now six months pregnant, and the relief of reaching this milestone was evident in your expression.

You and Ghost had been trying for a baby for the past two years. Each time you got pregnant, you miscarried around the three-month mark. His deployments often left you feeling lonely in the house, and it was time for you to expand your family. The idea of having children had always been a shared dream, and you were now well on your way to realizing it.

Ghost had just returned home, his hands full of grocery bags, which he placed on the table with a heavy thud. He was in the midst of a heated phone call, and you could hear his loud, strained voice from the adjacent room. Closing the book, you set it down on the nightstand and slowly made your way to the kitchen, your footsteps filled with a sense of anticipation.

His voice grew louder as you approached, you strained to listen as you heard his words spill from his mouth, the tension and frustration evident in his tone. He cursed in exasperation, abruptly ending the call and slamming the phone down on the kitchen counter, the resounding noise echoing in the room.

"Is everything okay?" you asked him, walking up slowly, your voice filled with concern. He took a deep breath, his gaze heavy and tired, and then turned to face you.

"Price is deploying me," his words landed like a heavy blow. Your heart sank, and your eyes began to well up with tears.

"What do you mean Price is deploying you? You told me that you talked to him about not sending you on missions while I was pregnant," your voice shaking with emotion. You took a step closer, desperation creeping into your tone.

"You did talk to him, right?" searching for any sign of reassurance. But he wouldn't meet your gaze, his eyes fixed on the counter. Your heartache deepened, and a single tear escaped, tracing a path down your cheek.

"Simon!" you cried, flinching as he slammed his fists down onto the counter. He raised his voice, his frustration turning into anger.

"For fuck's sake, Y/n! No, I didn't talk to him!" he shouted, and you were stunned into silence. The words he spoke were a painful betrayal. You remembered vividly that he had assured you he'd spoken to Price about this.

"I never got around to it, okay? I didn't think you would make it this far. I assumed you would miscarry again, so I didn't bother telling him. I'm sorry, okay?" he admitted, his voice laced with guilt. The room felt heavy with the weight of his confession, and disbelief washed over you as you struggled to comprehend what he had just revealed. Your heart felt as if it had been torn in two. The man you loved and trusted had let you down in a way you never thought possible.

"Are you serious, Simon?" The disbelief and pain in your voice was thick as you confronted him. "This whole time, you were just pretending to be happy, but in reality, you were just waiting for me to miscarry again?" The weight of your words hung heavily in the air, and you fixed your gaze on him, waiting for his response.

He couldn't even bring himself to look you in the eye as you spoke to him, and his voice was heavy with guilt as he admitted, "Yes." Your tears were now falling freely, and your chest ached with the pain of betrayal. He moved past you, grabbing his keys from the counter, his actions leaving you bewildered.

"Where are you going?" you asked, your voice a mixture of confusion and hurt. You moved closer, positioning yourself between him and the door, your determination to address the situation clear in your eyes.

"I'm going out; I need a drink," he responded, his words sounding callous and uncaring. You scoffed in disbelief, feeling the need to get to the bottom of this situation.

"No, you're not. We need to talk about this—" You reached for his hand, but he forcefully ripped it away, turning to glare down at you, his anger laid bare.

"There's nothing to fucking talk about, y/n. I'm deploying in two weeks, and nothing will change that!" He raised his voice, his frustration evident.

Your heart ached as you took a step back, struggling to understand his behavior. "Why are you acting like this? Why are you yelling at me?" you asked, your voice trembling as tears continued to fall.

"Because I'm fucking stressed, y/n. I didn't think you would make it this far into your pregnancy. Now, I'm getting deployed, and I don't know when I'll be back," he snapped, his own frustrations and anxieties taking over.

"Why are you taking it out on me?" You couldn't hold back the pain in your voice. "It's not my fault you didn't tell Price. You should have told him. I'm six months pregnant, Simon! How long were you going to wait until you told him?"

"Did I say it was your fault?!" he shot back, his anger flaring. "I know what I should have done, but I didn't, and now we are here. Now, get the fuck out of my way."

The harshness in his words cut deep, and you looked up at him in disbelief. He had never spoken to you like this before. While you knew his temper could be volatile, he had never taken it out on you in such a way.

"No, I don't want you to leave," you pleaded, trying to keep him from walking out the door. "We need to work this out, Simon. You know how I feel about things like this." You were insistent on resolving conflicts, always wanting to talk things through.

"I don't care how you feel; I don't want to talk about this right now," he retorted, his voice filled with frustration. "I need a fucking drink, so get out of my way." The desperation in his words hung in the air, and you couldn't believe the person he was becoming in this moment.

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. "No, I won't let you leave." Your resolve was strong, and you were determined to keep him here until you could address the issues at hand. His frustration had pushed him to a point where he was leaving the house in anger, but you couldn't let that happen. You would never let him leave the house when you guys were upset with one another. It was always something you were insistent on.

His hands went to your shoulders, and he harshly moved you out of the way. You stumbled, almost losing your balance, but you steadied yourself. He walked out the door, slamming it behind him, leaving you alone with a heavy heart and a whirlwind of emotions. You couldn't hold back the overwhelming flood of emotions that consumed you, and you collapsed onto the floor, your body wracked with deep, wrenching sobs.

In all the time you had been together, he had never laid his hands on you in anger like that. His temper was known to flare, but this was an entirely new level of intensity, especially considering he was the one at fault for the situation. You remained on the floor for what felt like an eternity, weeping into your hands, your heart heavy with a mixture of pain, betrayal, and despair. It was an hour of solitude in your sorrow before you mustered the strength to get up.

Getting up to your feet, you made your way to your room, your phone in hand, desperate to reach him. You attempted to call him, your fingers trembling. But just as you were about to press the call button, a sharp and agonizing pain coursed through your stomach, stopping you in your tracks. You were begging, repeating the words, "Please, not again," as you made your way to the bathroom, tears filling your eyes. You were in agony and feared for the well-being of your baby.

You collapsed on the bathroom floor as the pain became nearly unbearable, unlike anything you had experienced before. It felt as though your insides were being torn apart, and you couldn't bear it. With trembling hands and tears streaming down your face, you pressed the dial button and called Simon, your voice choked with pain and desperation.

You cried out as the agony radiated through your body, each moment feeling like an eternity. The phone rang and rang, but there was no answer from him. It eventually went to voicemail, leaving you with a sinking feeling of abandonment and despair. As the pain intensified and your vision blurred, you set the phone down on the bathroom floor, your sobs echoing through the empty room.

Your trembling hands moved between your legs, coming away soaked in blood. Panic and fear gripped your heart as you propped yourself up against the toilet, leaning over it for support. Desperation consumed you as you reached for your phone once more, this time dialing 911 in a desperate attempt to get help.

But the blood on your fingers made it difficult, and the phone slipped from your grasp, landing with a sickening splash in the toilet. Your heart sank as you watched the screen turn black, your lifeline to assistance lost in the crimson-stained water.

Tears streamed down your face as you sat on the bathroom floor, gripping your stomach. You watched as the blood began to pool beneath you, and you cried out in anguish. You mustered all the strength you could, attempting to get up from the cold, hard bathroom floor. You needed to get help. Panic and agony coursed through you as you struggled to rise.

The pain was unbearable, and you knew something was terribly wrong. This was beyond the point of a typical miscarriage, given how far along you were in your pregnancy.

As you moved, a searing, relentless pain tore through your body, causing you to scream out in sheer agony. You lay on the bathroom floor, helpless and writhing in pain, your body refusing to cooperate.

An hour had passed, and in your hands, you held your stillborn baby. You sat against the bathroom wall, surrounded by a growing pool of your own blood. Emotions swirled within you, leaving you feeling numb and empty. You asked yourself what you had done to deserve this.

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring the world around you as you sat there, grappling with the reality of the fifth baby you lost. Your body was supposed to be nurturing new life, but instead, it had betrayed you once again. It felt like a cruel and never-ending nightmare.

With great pain and effort, you retrieved a small box from under the sink. You had experienced miscarriages so often that you'd prepared for such moments, stashing the small boxes under the sink. Gently, you placed your baby inside and closed the lid, tears still silently falling.

You lay on the cold, tiled bathroom floor in a growing pool of blood, your body trembling with exhaustion and pain.

In your arms, you cradled the small, delicate box, the weight of grief pressing heavily on your chest. Every passing moment seemed to drain you further, and the relentless flow of blood showed no signs of stopping.

Each breath became more laborious, your vision blurred, and you could feel your strength waning with each passing second. Your sobs and cries were replaced by an eerie silence as you struggled to hold on, the world fading around you as you clung to the precious, heartbreaking reminder of the life that would never be.

Ghost, sitting at the bar with Soap, had been sharing the situation he was in. It was late into the night, and the bar's dim lighting seemed to reflect the weight on Ghost's shoulders.

He ended up calling Price again, explaining that you were pregnant, and the conversation had been a long and tense one, going back and forth as they argued about the deployment. Finally, Price made the decision not to deploy Ghost on the mission.

With a deep exhale, Ghost felt a mixture of relief and guilt. He knew he had to make things right with you for the hurtful words he had spoken. For the way he treated you when you only wanted to talk it out. For breaking the promise you made to each other to never leave the house when one was upset with the other. Soap patted him on the back, offering his support and reminding Ghost that he really needed to make it up to you.

They ordered a few more drinks, and as the night wore on, they both realized they were in no condition to drive. It was then that they decided to walk to Soap's house, which was conveniently located only five minutes from the bar.

Their plan was to return in the morning, and whoever was in better shape would drive to the store to pick up the things Ghost needed for you.

Morning came, and they walked back to the bar to retrieve Ghost's car. Ghost ended up driving to the store where they selected a variety of items, ultimately deciding to make a basket filled with things you liked.

In the passenger seat Soap arranged the items in the basket while Ghost took a quick detour to the florist, picking out the largest and most beautiful bouquet of flowers he could find before going home.

Soap followed close behind Ghost as they entered the house, he placed the gift basket in the kitchen, and Ghost slowly made his way to the bedroom. He slowly opened the door, and noticed that you weren't in bed so he started to walk over to the bathroom.

He stopped dead in his tracks as he noticed the blood that had seeped from under the bathroom door. Panic surged through him as he rushed to open the door.

His heart dropped, and his breath caught as he found you lifeless, lying in a pool of blood. Your gaze was far away, and you held a small box beside you. He recognized it immediately – the same small boxes you used for the miscarriages.

With a rush of emotions, he took a hesitant step forward, but his balance wavered as he almost slipped on the blood-soaked floor. Rushing to your side, he carefully set the small box aside, his trembling hands unsteady. Ghost cradled your cold face in his hands, tears streaming from his eyes as he sat on the floor, your blood seeping into his clothes.

"Y/n baby look at me, please look at me, love. You're okay, it's okay, it's going to be okay."

He called out for soap, who was in the kitchen. Soap attempted to approach you, but Ghost, his voice strained with grief and guilt yelled at him.

"Johnny just call 911!" he hurried to the kitchen to make the call, leaving Ghost alone, cradling your lifeless form, lost in a world of anguish and guilt.

He called out to you, his voice a desperate plea, but there was no response. Ghost's cries of anguish filled the small bathroom, echoing the unbearable pain in his heart. Tears streamed down his face, and he continued to rock back and forth, cradling you against him.

His voice quivered as he muttered, "I'm so sorry, y/n... It's all my fault... I should have told Price… I should have told him…" he breathlessly whispered against your cold cheek. The weight of his regret was crushing, and the burden of knowing that his actions had led to this moment was almost too much to bear.

Simon held your lifeless body in his arms, the weight of your cold form pressing on him physically and emotionally. The room felt suffocating, and the air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and grief. As he cradled you, all he could think about was the what-ifs and the guilt that gnawed at his conscience.

His mind tried to replay the scene of your final moments over and over. The thought that you were in pain, alone, and scared haunted him. He pictured you suffering, reaching out for help, and he wasn't there for you. The echoes of laughter and clinking glasses from the bar where he was drinking seemed deafening in his mind. While he was having drinks with Johnny you were here, alone and dying.

His eyes wandered to the toilet, where he saw your phone lying there. A chilling realization struck him — that missed call he ignored. Did the phone slip from your weakening grasp after calling him for help? Did you wait for a lifeline that never came? Guilt, heavy and consuming, pressed down on him, making every breath a struggle.

In that heartbreaking moment, Simon felt the weight of the consequences of his actions. The regret and sorrow mingled with the deafening silence of your absence, creating a painful symphony of remorse that would echo in his heart forever.

The memory of his last words to you, spoken in anger, haunted him. Those words, "I don't care how you feel," echoed in his mind like a relentless mantra. He wished he could turn back time, go back to that moment, and change everything.

He longed to take back the hurtful words he'd spoken and to be there for you in your time of need. He wished he had never stressed you to the point of pushing you into another miscarriage. But it was too late, and the reality of the consequences of his actions had come crashing down on him.

Grief enveloped him as he clung to your lifeless body, your silence an agonizing reminder of the happiness he had let slip through his fingers. The guilt and regret were insurmountable, and Ghost's world had shattered into a never-ending nightmare of his own making.

Alternative ending

[qtboni]

hai bonni <33 this is my first reqs 4u and im sry in advance if it's kinda of cringe 😭 (i came here from yr simon fic btw nd i luv ur writinggg) wht do u think abt simon being tired as hell coming back home from his mission and literally melts into reader's arms?

HELLO DEAR ANON ! thanks for requesting and no, it's not cringe dw i LOVE it. also ty for loving my writing that literally made my day sm >< enjoy this!

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

OVERVIEW: Simon melting into your arms after a rough day at work <//3

C/W: Entirely fluff + kisses

Simon had a long day at work and was feeling tired and stressed. He started his car and drove home, feeling the tension in his shoulders and back. As he pulled into his driveway, he saw you standing on the porch, waiting for him.

You smiled and walked towards him, your arms outstretched. Simon stumbled out of his car and into your arms, letting out a deep sigh of relief. He felt the tension in his body melt away as you held him close, your warmth and comfort surrounding him.

"Welcome home, Simon," you whispered, resting your head on his chest.

"Thanks." Simon replied, wrapping his arms around you and taking a deep breath.

The warmth of your body against his, your breathing against his ear, all of it was like a balm for his soul. He let go of the tension in his muscles and let himself melt into you. Your warmth and love surrounded him, making him feel safe and protected.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling you hug him tightly.

"I missed you," he breathed, his voice barely audible. "Missed you so much."

"I missed you too, Si'," you replied, your voice full of love.

For a moment, nothing else mattered but your embrace and the love that you shared. The weight of the world seemed to fade away, replaced by a sense of peace and contentment. And in that moment, he knew that everything was going to be alright.

"Hey," you said, leading him towards the house. "Let's go inside, okay?"

You helped him inside, guiding him to the couch, where you could hear him release another deep sigh.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" you asked, sitting beside him. "Food? Um, what about some tea? I think that will help you loosen u-"

Simon reached for your hand and gently squeezed it. "Just you being here is enough, love." he replied.

"I'm always here for you, Simon," you said, giving his hand a squeeze back.

You leaned into his embrace, pressing a soft kiss against his stubble-roughened cheek. The gesture was gentle, yet full of meaning. Simon felt a warmth spreading from his cheek to the rest of his body, your love surrounding him like a blanket.

He closed his eyes and savored the moment, letting himself be fully present in your embrace. He could hear your heartbeat against his chest, and the sensation was soothing and calming.

You reached out and pulled his balaclava up, revealing his mouth. A quick peck and his face lit up with a smile, his eyes sparkling with joy.

You watched as he became more and more beaming, his mouth turning into a grin as you removed the balaclava. "There he is," you said softly, your voice filled with affection. You giggled, teasing him as you added, "My little baby soldier."

Simon's eyes were fixed on you, filled with a sense of pure adoration and love. He was grateful to have someone who accepted him for who he was, especially coming home from a long and difficult mission.

"Baby soldier?" He asked.

"Yeah, well, aren't you one, my love?"

"I am so not a baby soldier."

"Oh, damn you're right." You replied with faux surprise. You leaned into him, cupping his cheeks and squeezing them together.

Then you added, whispering as you do so, "You're my little baby lieutenant, aren't you, Si'?"

You feel Simon inhale and see him averting his gaze. You giggled at him and kissed both of his cheeks.

Simon cannot bring himself to retort any longer as he completely melts into your kisses and embrace. If you said he's a little baby lieutenant, then for god's sake, he is.

It was a moment of pure serenity, of pure love. And Simon knew that he would always cherish it, a beacon of solace in the midst of the chaos of the world.

And then, as if driven by an instinctive need to express the depth of his emotions, he pulled you closer, holding you in his arms, his touch firm and passionate.

"I love you," he murmured, his voice low and hoarse. But there was no question about the sincerity of his words, the longing in his eyes as he looked at you. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

"I love you too," you replied, your own voice just as genuine. And with those words, Simon knew that everything was going to be alright.

[dontyouworrydaddy]

Imagine 141 & Konig walking home late at night with their gf and as soon as they find themselves near an empty park or a more isolated street, some jerk with a knife / gun tries to rob them. Even worse, he threatens to hurt the SO in even worse ways if they don't comply. Will they avoid violence and cooperate or go Rambo mode on the man? Thank you very much.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝖾

Task Force 141 (+König) + fem! reader

Oh YES. I feel like Simon and König would go fully violence mode. Like, they wouldn’t even hesitate to jump this man because how dare he threaten you? Price would try to solve the problem but as soon as he sees it doesn’t get better he would literally break that man. They’re way too protective over you and would absolutely destroy anyone that dares to touch you or even threaten you.

Thank you for the ask I hope you enjoy lovelies 🩷

♫ ♪ ♪ ♫ ♩ ♬ ♭ ♮ ♯

König

As the moon cast its gentle glow upon the darkened streets, you walked alongside König, feeling safe in his presence. The night air was cool and the sound of your footsteps echoed softly as you made your way home. But how were you supposed to know that you guys were being followed by someone with not so good intentions?

As you neared a secluded park or an empty street, a man emerged from the shadows, brandishing a knife or a gun with malicious intent. Panic surged through your veins and fear threatened to overwhelm your senses.

"Give me the woman. Now." the man‘s voice was deep and filled with danger

But in that moment, König's protective instincts surged forth like a tidal wave. His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, and without a moment's hesitation, he stepped in front of you, a shield against the impending danger.

"You" König's voice carried a steely determination, "will not harm her. Not while I'm here."

The man laughed in a maniac way and the tension in the air grew palpable as the assailant's gaze shifted from you to König. A battle of wills ensued, as the predator met the match in the form of a soldier who refused to back down. König's stance exuded confidence, a silent promise that he would not allow him to harm you.

With a swift motion, König moved, disarming the threat. His movements were precise, a testament to his training and unwavering dedication to protect those he cared for.

As the confrontation reached its climax, König's determination prevailed, overpowering that man. With a final blow, he incapacitated the threat, ensuring your safety and ending the ordeal.

Breathing heavily, König turned his attention to you, his eyes filled with concern. He reached out, gently cradling your face, his touch a balm to the frayed edges of your nerves.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft but laced with an underlying intensity.

You nodded, a mixture of relief and gratitude flooding your being. In that moment, you realized that he had risked his own safety to protect you, fighting with everything he had to protect you.

You wrapped yourself in his comforting embrace, as a thank you, since the shock didn’t leave your body. And with a soft sigh he patted your head, reassuring your safety.

Simon Riley

The night was dark and quiet as Simon walked alongside you, the two of you engrossed in conversation, unaware of the danger lurking in the shadows. Your laughter echoed through the empty streets, filling the air with a sense of warmth and joy.

But as fate would have it, you found yourselves near an empty park. And you guys didn’t see someone following you. Suddenly, a menacing figure emerged from the darkness, brandishing a weapon and pointing it at you specifically.

"Your bag. Now. And you little boyfriend, stay where you are. Or she gets it!" Fear gripped your heart, but Simon's protective instincts kicked in. His eyes narrowed, his muscles tensed. He didn’t move but he kept his cold gaze on the man who was in a very bad shape. He couldn’t stay still and was scratching the arm that is holding the gun and his head. His eyes were red and you could tell that he would immediately shoot you if Simon moved.

"You don’t want to do this mate. Leave now. Don’t tempt me" Simon‘s voice was filled with pure anger and hate. If he had the chance, he would jump him right now. But he couldn’t risk it. He knew that this man would pull the trigger at you. So he didn’t move.

"I‘m not your mate. Do as I say, bitch." the mans focus was on you now and Simon took the chance to push you to the ground. The mans reaction response was slow but he still pulled the trigger which left you in shock. You couldn’t move and Simon‘s heart was breaking into a million pieces at the sight of you being shocked and scared. But he had to protect you first. He would comfort you as soon as he took down the threat. He was too focused on you that he didn’t feel the bullet that pierced into his arm.

With swift and calculated movements, Simon ran towards him, using every skill he possessed to just knock out the man so the police could deal with him. He ignored the burning in his arm and with only one punch he send the man to a sweet slummer.

Breathing heavily, Simon turned to you, his eyes filled with a mix of relief and concern. He reached out, his hands gentle and steady, offering you a reassuring touch. In that simple gesture, you felt his unwavering support and knew that you were not alone. "You’re okay now, sweetheart. Look at me"

"Simon. Your arm" you whispered, still in shock. Your eyes were wide but his eyes were so soft.

“I‘m okay, love. Nothing I can’t handle. Come here" he took you in his arms and called the police and price to report what just happened. You couldn’t do anything but hug him tight and hold his bloody arm so he doesn’t lose any more blood. And that’s everything he needs right now. Now that you’re safe, he doesn’t care what happens next.

John MacTavish

You walked beside John and your steps echoing through the quiet streets. The world seemed serene, a peaceful respite from the chaos that defined your lives.

As you reached a desolate park, a sudden chill crept up your spine. Out of the darkness emerged a figure, a sinister glint in their eyes, accompanied by the chilling sound of a knife being unsheathed or the cold presence of a gun.

Panic seized your heart as the assailant's threats hung heavy in the air. Their intentions were clear…your possessions, your safety and even your life were at stake. But amidst the terror that threatened to consume you, John's presence remained steadfast, his gaze unyielding.

"Your bag. Now." The mans voice was loud and clear which left you paralyzed on the spot, next to John.

In that moment, John's cold gaze met the man's eyes, his voice firm and commanding. "You've made a grave mistake, lad," he said, his tone carrying an air of authority that sent shivers down the man’s spine.

With a steely resolve, John refused to back down, knowing that surrendering to fear would only empower the assailant further. He stood tall, his body radiating strength and determination.

"I suggest you leave" John continued, his voice carrying a weight that left no room for negotiation. "Or you'll find yourself in a position you don’t even want to imagine."

Fear crept into the man‘s eyes as they glimpsed the unwavering determination etched upon John's face. Their confidence wavered and doubt crept into their mind. In that moment, the man‘s weapon trembled in their grasp, his initial aggression diminished by the mere presence of John's unwavering resolve.

Sensing the retreat, John took a step forward, his voice a low growl. "Leave now, and count yourself lucky that you encountered me instead of someone with less restraint."

As if awoken from a trance, the man scrambled to escape the grip of fear that gripped his heart. With haste, he fled into the night, disappearing into the depths from which he had emerged.

As the adrenaline began to subside, John turned his attention to you, his expression softened by a mixture of concern and relief. He enveloped you in a protective embrace, his arms a fortress that offered solace and reassurance.

In the aftermath of the harrowing encounter, John's words washed over you, a soothing balm for your shaken spirit. "You're safe," he whispered, his voice filled with genuine care. "I won't let anyone harm you."

John Price

John walked alongside you, his protective presence a comforting shield against the darkness, and his mission now is getting you home safe. As you strolled through the quiet city, unaware of the impending danger lurking nearby, a sense of calm enveloped both of you.

However, fate had a different plan in store. As you neared an empty park a figure emerged from the shadows. Their face concealed, a glimmer of malice danced in their eyes, a knife held menacingly in his grasp. Fear gripped your heart as he spoke but your shock blocked every single word that came out of his mouth.

John, never one to back down in the face of danger, stepped forward, his eyes narrowing with resolve. He refused to allow anyone to harm you, to subject you to their wicked whims. With a voice dripping in authority, he tried to intimidate the assailant, hoping to scare them away. But as the seconds ticked by, it became evident that words were not enough to dissuade the desperate individual standing before you. The threat loomed, and John's protective instincts surged within him like a raging tempest.

Without hesitation, he sprang into action, his muscles with years of training and experience. With a fast strike, he delivered a powerful punch that connected with precision, rendering the man‘s unconscious. The danger swiftly subsided, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins refused to relent.

As the man lay unconscious, John turned his attention to you, his eyes filled with concern. He gathered you into his strong, reassuring embrace, offering solace and comfort amidst the chaos that had unfolded. His touch spoke volumes, silently conveying that you were safe now, that he would protect you with every fiber of his being.

Kyle Garrick

You walked alongside Kyle, the night sky casting a veil of darkness over the streets. The two of you were talking about his recent conversation he had with Price about how he sees life and the comforting weight of his arm around your shoulders makes you feel safe.

As you neared an empty park, Kyle saw a man coming out behind a tree and in his hand, he brandished a weapon, a stark reminder of the danger that loomed before you.

Fear coursed through your veins as the man‘s demands echoed in the night. "Both of you. Your wallets. Now!" Your heart was pounded in your chest and you instinctively hide behind Kyle.

"Fuck off, man. You think you can scare us like that?" Kyle tried to scare off the man but he clearly didn’t give a fuck. "I‘m serious man. Leave or I‘ll make you leave" Kyle‘s voice is getting colder and he clearly is getting impatient. The man stood still, not saying a single word.

In a split second, Kyle got too impatient and with a swift movement, he delivered a powerful punch, his fist connecting with the man‘s jaw, sending him falling backward. The man's grip on his weapon faltered, the threat momentarily subdued.

As the man crumpled to the ground, Kyle wasted no time in rushing to your side, his arms enveloping you in a protective embrace. The adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you clung to him, finding solace in the strength and love that radiated from his presence.

"It's okay, you're safe now," Kyle whispered, his voice a soothing balm against the turmoil in your mind. His touch was gentle, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along your back, grounding you in the reality that you were no longer in danger.

[seiwas]

the blade bleeds longer than the wound takes to heal | simon riley

wc: 2.2k

summary: progress is non-linear. simon is learning just that. 

contains: any warnings that apply to cod, blood, mentions of serious injuries, recovery and healing, kind of non-linear, simon-centric with a splash of romance, hurt/comfort

a/n: first time writing simon and he's a tough one!! but i'm really happy with how this turned out! + a very belated birthday gift for @vierisqe! forgive the jumble of american + british english in this one (i've reread this so many times that it's mushed together in my head and i can't tell the difference anymore djhfbjas) i hope i wrote him well!!

Simon picks up a knife in the dead of the night. 

At 2:00 a.m., the wind whistles outside your window, a wayward branch being thrown aimlessly against glass. The branches drag roughly against the delicate surface, scratching and banging in the gust of a predicted storm. 

Simon wakes up, eyes shooting open as his fingers instinctively reach for the small blade slotted underneath your mattress, sandwiched between soft cushion and the wooden panels of your bedframe. He keeps it there—

“For monster hunting. Sneaky fuckers only appear when lights’re out.”

—in case anything happens, he doesn’t say. 

(But you know old habits die hard, and Simon sleeps better with a weapon only layers away from his skin.) 

You’re curled up on his chest, hanging tightly onto his bicep as your breaths lull in the steady beats of slumber. His eyes blend dark blue against the backdrop of the night, and the only light casting itself into your bedroom diffuses from the streetlamp a few flats down. 

“We should keep a night light,” you’ve told him a few times before—if only to avoid small accidents, like tripping over folded carpets or bumping into the sharp edges of your dresser. 

“No ghosts here but me, love.” is all Simon replies.

(You take his cheekiness and keep it close to your chest, sporadic as it is, snorting as you let go of the topic.) 

He sees better in the dark—better than most, he’d like to think. 

His gaze flits to the window, watching intently as the branches move haphazardly; the sound hits the glass like bullet cases clinking against marble flooring. The same white marble bloodied deep red—

An inhale tickles his side, a phantom sharpness despite his ribcage being fully healed. There is no puncture, no gaping wound like that day 8 months ago—only scar tissue formed thickly along the outline of the knife that pierced through him. 

He breathes out, slow and steady, taking one last look at the window, before moving over to the door, checking for shadows and any suspicious movement. Then, his gaze rests on you—your hair splayed across his shoulder as you sleep soundly.

It’s okay. You’re okay. 

Everything is okay. 

.

Some days, he can breathe just fine. 

Spring blossoms through the flowers in your garden, white chrysanthemums that give Simon the worst spring allergies but he insists you keep. Despite the morning sniffles, when pollen seems to dust his dawning breath, he finds breathing easier on these days than most. 

You do your best to snip away at the blossoming buds, preparing to bundle them far away from the burly man they weaken. 

But Simon stands beside you with a watering pot, tilting the spout to drizzle life onto the blooms he knows are your pride and joy. 

He owes it to them, he supposes, for keeping you company months at a time. 

. 

It’s at the fizzling end of summer when Simon returns to you. 

Captain Price had contacted you weeks prior to inform you of the incident—just three things Simon requested be divulged: 

One, that he had incurred a stab wound to be monitored for a few weeks, most likely in military facilities. 

Two, that he��ll be discharged soon after. 

And three, that you stay put and be calm; that you not worry. 

(Your hands shake throughout the entire call, your knees giving way as you fall to the bunched up carpet of your bedroom floor. 

To you, Simon is untouchable. 

To you, Simon is impenetrable. 

He never divulges any more than he has to, but you’ve always known he was good at his job. The silent yet commanding confidence he carries can only be born from years of expertise, his senses sharpened and tuned to the slightest sign of danger. 

Over the years, without fail, Simon has always come back to you in one piece. 

So when he walks into your flat with staggered breaths, smelling of antiseptic and sterile sheets, your heart aches.) 

You give him a look, eyes glassy with your hands clenched on your sides as if avoiding to touch, should he be fragile; he holds that stare for a few seconds too long until he decides to fuck it, pulling you closer to his chest. 

Fuck doctors’ orders that his stitches haven’t fully healed. Fuck doctors’ orders that he should ‘minimise thoracic pressure’. 

Fuck doctors’ orders that he should watch his breathing, keeping it slow and steady only. 

“Quit all ‘o that,” he clears his throat, hiding a wheeze from the impact, “Didn’t get me killed, ‘n it won’t. S’no grave to cry over.” 

You can’t help it though, he knows, your fingers clutching tighter onto the ends of his jacket as you rest your forehead on his collarbone. The pain muddles together in his chest, soaked by the tears seeping through the fabric of his t-shirt. 

There are many things Simon doesn’t tell you, many more that he won’t—

His body holds a litany of injuries, scars built upon scars; some lie on the surface of his skin, others residing deeper than any knife can sink into. 

—last month, he nearly died. 

A miscalculated raid had led him straight into a trap, isolating him from the rest of the 141. He was concussed and sedated, senses dulled by the chemicals injected into his bloodstream. It happened too fast—a blade, inconspicuously small but sharp, piercing through his ribcage; the hits that followed dealt greater damage. 

Price found Simon lying in a pool of his own blood, deep red against the white brinks of death. 

Three broken ribs—two that stabbed through his lungs along with the knife, and one that managed to puncture his heart. Doctors warned that breathing during recovery would be difficult, but he hardly finds it to be the most challenging part. 

The paranoia is worse. 

He’s been more fidgety since, constantly wary; uneasy. Worse compared to usual. 

Every professional he’s spoken to has told him that progress is non-linear—

“So, give yourself some time. Some days can be easy and difficult the next, but the day after that might be—” 

To that he says, fucking ‘ell. 

.

You cut yourself while trimming your chrysanthemums. 

It’s a small nick on your thumb, but that finger always bleeds more than the others do; blood red drips onto a few white petals—a striking contrast.

Simon finds you that way. 

He moves on autopilot, rushing in to grab the first-aid kit you keep in one of your kitchen cabinets. On the surface, he is calm, face set straight and hardly rattled by the accident. This is the only good he sees in the snail-pace of his recovery—his jagged breaths conceal the real reason his hands tremble slightly holding yours.

A small cut shouldn’t need bandaging. A small cut shouldn’t need gauze and waterproof plaster. Simon shouldn’t insist on taking over, especially when the pollen clogs his nose. 

But your white chrysanthemums should not be red. 

He tells himself he’ll get you a pair of those cut-resistant gardening gloves. 

Those petals should not be red. 

.

The knife isn’t the problem, it’s what surrounds it. 

Simon hasn’t been the same since his return, and you’ve begun to notice.

For a big and hefty man, he prefers keeping himself away from as much fuss as he can. Weekend markets with him have always been pleasant; he carries all the produce and you stop at food stalls to feed him bites of whatever catches your eye.

Not this time.

This time, Simon glues himself behind you, your back pressed against his chest as he navigates you both through crowds. He zeroes in on every single person brushing against you, searching for anything sharp. 

When you wait by a food stall, he scans the area; his focus shifts from a family of four settling their toddler on a stroller, then to a man older but not nearly as large as he, bringing in sacks of flour inside a bakery. Off in a corner is a teenager, swallowed by the thick fabric of a hoodie similar to his own; Simon observes him a little longer, drawing suspicions about the movement concealed inside the kid’s pocket. 

(You notice it when you ask whether he prefers peaches or mangoes for the crepe’s filling, only to be met with no reply.) 

Then, a faint trail of smoke wafts out of the boy’s nose—it’s just a vape. 

Simon turns away. 

By brunch, which you always somehow seem to drag him into, you settle into your seat and ask the server for a butter knife. 

(Simon stays silent most times, with the occasional dry retort or witty quip directed at any silly thing he notices, but he’s been completely quiet this entire day. The slightest bit of tension pinches the skin between his brows as his eyes dart from one person to the next—like roaring waves rushing to catch the shore.) 

It happens all too quickly, how he pins the server’s wrist down onto your table when you’re handed the butter knife. 

Everybody in the restaurant pauses to look at you two.

The shock on your face mirrors the server’s. 

Simon lets go immediately, mumbling his apologies as his hands dig inside the pocket of his hoodie. You turn to the server sheepishly, standing up to follow him to the cashier. 

(You know Simon well enough that he hates all the attention, so you quickly settle everything with the manager, explaining as best as you can that it wasn’t intentional. The server is kind enough to let it go, his wrist red but otherwise uninjured from Simon’s grip; you still give him a tip, for the shock and trouble.) 

The whole trip home is tense. Simon can’t look you in the eyes, and even when you both walk into your flat, he heads straight for the kitchen, preparing to clean and wash the vegetables.

He rolls up his sleeves and opens the tap, rinsing carrots and potatoes, along with some of the lettuce you managed to pick up for half off. 

(Something stabs at your heart seeing him curl into himself even more, but Simon will talk when he wants to—never before or after. 

So, you walk towards him instead, wrapping your arms around his waist as you rest your cheek against his back.) 

He stops moving, and the water continues running. 

(You can hear his heartbeat, feel each slow breath he’s taking.)  

Simon doesn’t tell you of the sleepless nights, of the terrors that plague his waking mind more than nightmares do. He doesn’t tell you that he sees you in his spot that very same day, on that same marble floor—your own pool of red against the very same white that your chrysanthemums bloom into. 

“I’m okay,” you whisper against his back, landing kisses on each of his shoulder blades. The fabric of his hoodie is soft and thick, but he feels you through it. 

“You always do a good job of keeping me safe.” 

Your words layer on him like tactical gear, arms tightening around his abdomen akin to the belt that holds his ammo. 

“Let me take care of you now,” you close your eyes, voice a little shaky, pleading, “okay?” 

Simon holds his breath. 

.

Your chrysanthemums sit in a vase by your kitchen sink, water droplets catching onto the petals and leaves. 

Simon sneezes every time he washes his hands, but he’s the one who put it there—

“S’called exposure therapy, love.” 

(And who are you to argue with a man on a mission?) 

—along with the cut-resistant gloves he stores in a drawer near your kitchen tools. 

From the corner of his eye, he watches you drag your chef’s knife to fillet a chicken breast. He keeps his gaze locked on your every movement, fingers twitching as if they itch to reach for you. Pain tingles at the side of his chest, a faded remnant of how it felt when the wound was still fresh. 

You fillet the breast successfully, and he releases a breath.

Simon has keen sight and he uses it to his advantage—sniping, scoping, watching. He notices the sharp edge of the open cupboard door over your head and reflexively lays his palm over it, cushioning the impact when you hastily move to the side.

If you notice, you don’t show him any signs.

Tonight’s menu is honey glazed soy chicken, a recipe you’ve been wanting to test out. He’d offered to help but you insisted that he sit back and relax; and of course, in typical Simon- fashion, he only partially heeds your advice. 

He sits back and relaxes all right, but on the barstool by the kitchen island, ready to spring into action whenever you need him. 

And he sees it all—that near-mishap by the cupboard, how dangerously close your fingers are from your chef’s knife; your cut-resistant gloves are ready-to-use in the drawer next to your garden tools. He still keeps that small blade between your mattress and bedframe. 

Old habits die hard, the aftereffects of near-death moreso, but Simon is a man on a mission, and when he watches you hiss away from the brief ‘pop!’ of oil splattering from your pan, he stays right where he is, convincing himself he can leave you to handle it. 

You’re okay. 

This is progress. 

It’s a start.

a/n: this turned out a lot more serious than i intended, but i enjoyed picking simon to see how he would act in a period of adjustment back to regular life, especially after something potentially traumatic. i find simon an incredibly difficult character to write because he carries so much with him and i could go on about this, but the tldr is: i think he's become desensitised to a lot of things, which is why i don't think he's afraid of wounds or knives no matter how much he's been hurt by them. i don't imagine him being afraid of dying either, because it's what they do—it comes with the job. i do think though, that his close call with death here shifts his fear to the idea of loss, particularly, losing you. and as a protector, he finds himself responsible for that.

thank you notes: to @soumies my gawd!! for helping me with dialogue and proofreading, practically beta reading this entire thing!! you are the heart of this fic 🥺 simon would not be simon in this without you!! love u love u love u!!!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[filmofhybe]

생산자 - PRODUCER ♪ LEE HEESEUNG

(UPDATED VERS.)

THE PROFILES : #1 loyal listeners !!

MASTERLIST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

Y/N Y/L/N > joyful, too joyful.. ( "Riley it's okay I'm JOY!" ahh character) upcoming rising soloist of BELIFT. Everyone's social bubble yet she's also a bit shy and introverted.

Kwon Eunbin > Ex izone member who's now a soloist, supports everyone in #1 loyal listeners !! ( the mother of the group. ) Tries to convince y/n to switch company because she thinks Jake is weird.

JEON SOMI > Known y/n before her trainee era so they are LOCKED IN. No filter whatsoever and speaks whatever comes to mind before thinking. Tries to convince y/n to switch company just like Eunbin (they are in it together)

HUH YUNJIN > met y/n and BOOM, they realize they hit it off so well, and they also have mutual friends so they got along really quick. (just like sisters and always bickering.) Yunjin promises to collab with y/n in the future if their company isn't so damn shitty.

Kim Mingyu > Seventeen Member, knew y/n for ages bc of her older brother. Gives really good advice to the girls. They think he's gay but he's just an ally!! (TRUSTT!!)

⋆౨ৎ˚ © filmofhybe on tumblr — do not copy , translate or share.

please reblog or comment to boost your writers!

networks : @k-neighborhood @k-films @k-labels @kflixnet

[ordinaryschmuck]

During Riley's college years...

Joy: Okay Anxiety, be ready. We need to lower our...you, for our finals, so Riley's taking her anti-anxiety medicine.

Anxiety: I'm just so nervous! I mean, what'll happen to me when she takes them? Will I shrink?! Dissapear?! Die?! Or-

Suddenly out of a hatch comes a tube labeled "Anti-Anxiety".

Sadness: What do we do with that?

Anxiety comes over, takes it, looks it over for a second....and then puts it in her mouth and take a long inhale off it. After a few seconds, she let's out a breathe of smoke.

Anxiety: Ooooh, yeah. That's good.

Joy: You okay?

Anxiety: Yeah...yeah, I'll be good....let's get to studying....and maying getting some pizza, this is making me hungry...

Yes.

Yes to all of this.

The idea of anti-anxiety meds just making Anxiety high to mellow her out is hilarious. I love it.

[rockcollector3000]

Girldad!Ghost’s day at the office

A fic for @blingblong55 <3

I really hope I did your request justice

Word count - 824

Warnings - none

No one on base would have expected to see the Simon “Ghost” Riley pull up on his motorcycle in a pink helmet with little cat ears. They also wouldn’t have expected him to show up with his two daughters, much less on his day off.

Nonetheless, he was— the big bad Ghost in a pink helmet, with his two little girls.

Price stood at the door, a confused look painting his face.

“It's your day off, Ghost.” Price said, looking at the two girls. “And who might these little ladies be?”

Simon took his helmet off, then helped the girls with theirs.

“Marie,” he said, pointing to the smaller girls. “And Aurora.” he pointed to the taller girl. “My daughters, my pride and joy.”

Price smiled at the two girls who were now waving up at him.

“And you brought them why?” he asked, the smile not leaving his face.

“My spouse is out of town, and the sitter got sick.” Simon sighed. “So I get to bring my little loves with me today.”

Marie wrapped her hand around two of Simon’s fingers, obviously nervous about her unfamiliar surroundings. Aurora, on the other hand, was looking around excitedly, a big smile painted on her face.

The girls looked just like Simon. Blonde hair, deep brown eyes, pale. They were spitting images of their dad.

Marie’s face lit up when she saw Soap come out of the building, waving enthusiastically at the two girls.

“Lt! And little LTs!” He said happily. “Mornin’ girls.” Soap smiled down at them.

Marie was first to run up to him, immediately being brought into Soap’s arms in a bear hug.

Aurora followed suit, wrapping herself around his legs. “Uncle Johnny!” She squealed happily.

“What’re you two doin’ here?” He said with a small laugh. “Thought yer dad had the day off.”

“Daddy had to bring us because our babysitter got sick,” Aurora explained, looking up at Soap.

“An’ mama is out of town,” Marie explained, running her fingers through Soap’s hair absent-mindedly.

“Aye, got it,” Soap responded, looking at Simon. “Si, ye gonna be here all day?”

Simon shook his head. “Just a couple of minutes, I'm doin’ some paperwork and leavin’,” he explained, looking at Soap holding his girls.

“Speakin’ of which, you mind playing with them, just till I finish the work,” Simon asked, taking a deep breath.

Soap nodded, still smiling. “Sure. Gotta be in your office, though.”

Simon shrugged, not much minding having them in his office. “Just keep it down.”

In total, they were all in Simon’s office for about an hour. He sat at his desk, silently doing his paperwork, only breaking his silence when one of the girls asked him something.

Soap had a grand time playing with the girls. They had brought a few tutus and a play makeup set, which Soap loved.

Eventually, when Simon finished his work, he played with the girls and Soap, putting on one of the tutus and letting Marie do his makeup.

After another hour, he called time on their game.

“Alright, kiddos,” Simon said with a big stretch as he stood up. “Time to get goin’.”

“Nuhuh! We aren’t done playing with Uncle Johnny!” Marie protested from her spot on Soap’s lap.

Aurora was quick to back her up. “Yeah! Can’t we have a couple more minutes, Daddy?”

With Aurora’s pleading and Marie’s protesting, Simon was already convinced.

“Okay, okay.” he sighed. “Ten more minutes. But after that ten, we go home. I still have to give you two a bath and make dinner.”

The girls quickly went back to playing with Soap, giggling and telling him all about the “right way” to play their games.

Before Simon could get the tutu and makeup off, Price and Gaz checked up on them. Upon seeing their lieutenant dressed like a princess, they both had to stifle their laughter.

“Lookin’ good, Ghost.” Gaz chuckled. “Pink is a nice color on you.”

“I see you're done with your paperwork, Ghost.” Price said, grinning.

“Just lettin’ the girls get some energy out before we go home, sir,” Simon replied with a faint smile.

“They've got about four minutes.” His comment was more directed toward the girls and Soap this time.

The girls whined lightly as they began to clean up, Soap offering help as he worked to get his tutu and makeup off.

“Alright, be safe on the road home, Ghost.” Price said, patting Ghost on the shoulder.

“Girls, keep your dad in line, alright?” he said to Marie and Aurora.

They gave a small salute to the captain before going back to cleaning.

Once everything was all clean, Soap helped Simon bring the girls back to his motorcycle.

They strapped the girls into the sidecar, put on their little helmets, and said goodbye to Soap, Gaz, and Price.

Simon wore his helmet and started the bike, waving to his co-workers before speeding off with his little ones.

[dr-fizzovich]

interact with this post for a "riley it okay i'm joy 😁" in your asks

[simming-girl]

Hello Neighbor: WTRB Fanfiction Story - Welcome June

The sun has raised as well. Maritza first woke up, washed her face and made a breakfast. Then, she realized it's the last day of May, from a season, «spring».

«Woah, this is the last day of May, summer's almost here», Maritza said.

Enzo was still sleeping on his bed, as he also woke up taking his glasses on, and joined Maritza for the breakfast.

«Buongiorno, Mari», Enzo greeted at his sister, after waking up.

«Buenos días, Enz», Maritza greeted at him back.

«Today, is the last day of May, you know».

«Oh, really? Summer is almost here», Enzo said.

«Yes! Would we watch a movie?», Maritza asked.

«Sure, in afternoon», Enzo replied.

Enzo then gets a call from Trinity for a FaceTime, and thought she wanted something. So, he pressed the call.

«Morning, Enzo. How was your sleep?» Trinity asked on a call.

«Good morning, Trinity! My sleep was good. My sister, this morning, told me that is the last day and month of spring, and when the school ends, it feels great to be free...», Enzo replied.

Trinity's smile was gorgeous, her eyes were sparkling purple, her lashes were big, and her hair was shining. When Enzo saw Trinity sending a kiss to him, he blushed like a strawberry.

«Yeah, when you said that summer break is starting in a few days, it actually sounds fun!» Trinity smiled at Enzo.

«I'm busy, bye, Enzo!» she continued.

When the Esposito siblings finished their breakfast, they changed their pajamas to clothes.

«What if we relax at the balcony...?» Enzo asked.

«It would be cool», Maritza replied.

Nicky Roth was at his home, he realised also that it's summer is tomorrow and he took the suitcase down to find summer clothes, swimsuits, and even has a snorkel.

«Who even wants to swim with me...?» Nicky thought. He won't go to the beach yet, but he can go for a walk later. He then called Enzo.

«Uhh.. Nicky is calling me.. Just be quiet, Mari», Enzo said to Maritza.

«Hey, Nicky! What are you doing?»

«I'm doing well, thanks. I took the suitcase down to see my summer clothes, swimsuits, aaand, more. Wait, I also have a snorkel!» Nicky said.

«Wow! I have a snorkel too! But, I will stay home with my sister» Enzo replied.

«Okay, can I tell you something, how did you sleep?» Nicky asked to Enzo.

«I slept well, grazie (thanks). I'm busy by the way, I'll call you back, if I have to» Enzo said.

«Okay, bye», Nicky continued, hanging on the call.

5 hours later...

«Aww, what a happy family we were... But our mother died due to cancer, but we felt sad and we fought», Enzo sighed.

«Yeah.. We were younger», Maritza sighed, too.

«Anyways, do you want to watch a movie from now?» the boy continued.

«Sure, why not?» the girl replied.

The movie they selected is about... Inside Out (2015).

«Ha, we're going to watch a memorable film!» Enzo and Maritza laugh, holding the popcorn on their hands and high-fiving each other. They sat next to each other on the couch. They decided to watch a movie.

«Aww, how cute Riley was, as a baby...», Maritza said, as she does puppy eyes.

«She's so adorable! Oh, there's Joy, and Sadness» Enzo said.

"Another" 9 hours...

«I. Am. Tired. I. Look. I look like I'm drunk!», Enzo yawned, as he tried to fall asleep.

«The movie ends sooner, Enz», Maritza replied.

It's been an hour when the siblings watched "Inside Out", but Enzo yawned and snored. As the movie just played, the boy fell asleep on his little sister's legs.

«Oh, my, look at him. My older brother just fell asleep. Who is Enzo then? My cat...? By the way, the movie just ended», Maritza said, as she picked up her sleeping brother and put him to bed.

«Enzo, I took off your glasses, I put the sleeping mask on your eyes, I put a teddy bear and then I spread you with a blanket. Buenas noches», she continued.

«Buona notte», Enzo said quietly, while sleeping.

She went also to sleep, and tomorrow, they'll tell about the greatest summer news to their friends.

(Part 12: soon 🔐✨)

[peachesofteal]

Hi Mother Peach! I ran to your inbox as soon as I read the latest Raspberry Girl chapter. I just want to say, every single Raspberry Girl chapter you post somehow coincides with a bad day I'm having, and your sweet berry girl makes me thinks of myself in such a way, and the way Simon just lifts her up emotionally...

I am not the best at asking for help or establishing boundaries, and I feel guilty for not taking care of myself better, and the way you write them - how Simon loves her SO MUCH, so devoted to her. It just fills me with so much warmth. I usually try to picture myself reading reader fics, and it's fun, but it is such an overwhelming joy to feel she IS me. I love her so much, I wanna wrap her in a soft blanket and tell her she's so sweet. I literally got yelled at work this week and started my period and as soon as I started this chapter it was like the universe giving me a 'you're gonna be okay' sign.

Sorry I rambled on like this, please feel free to delete this if you feel like it. I just wanted to thank you for sharing your wonderful writing with us all. You are one of my favourite Simon writers, I love your characterization of him, it tickles this specific part of my brain that makes me giggle and sigh dreamily and makes me so happy. Thank you, so so much. You are an absolutely magnificient writer.

- @simon-rileys

Aww you’re so sweet thank you so much, it makes so happy you feel connected to her like this. I’m sorry you were yelled at too, that sucks, but I’m glad raspberry girl and Simon are there for you! Thank you again, I’m really flattered you like my characterization 🩵

[qtboni]

Hello again boni! its me, again, bc i adored your writing on my last req! i have another if that okay!

how would ghost (or maybe konig too, bc i luv him aswell) act if you told him you were pregnant? like this is early relationship, maybe a month or two into dating, only had sex about 4 times, and how would he go about telling soap and his friends and shit?

if you dont want to do this req u dont have to, but it was jus an idea! ^v^

again, thank you in advance, luv ya and your work!

HAI BBY! sorry this took so long to write >< i hope this makes up for it! i also saw your other req and im rly looking forward in writing it! thank you for this!

╰﹒ 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐉𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐒 !

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Fem!Reader & König X Fem!Reader

OVERVIEW: Your partner's reaction to the news of your pregnancy.

C/W: A sprinkle of angst with cute comfort and fluff ^^ mentions of being pregnant.

You took a deep breath, trying to still the trembling in your limbs. Your hands were shaking as you reached for the pregnancy test on the bathroom counter. You closed the door behind you and sat down on the cold tile floor, closing your eyes as you waited for the result.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you looked down at the test. Two bold lines were staring back up at you. You couldn't believe it - you were pregnant! At first, you felt a wave of joy wash over you, but it quickly turned into terror.

You were pregnant... with a baby. His baby.

You didn't know how to tell him, you were terrified that he would leave you if he found out. Tears streamed down your face as you collapsed onto the floor, sobbing inconsolably.

You had always dreamt of having a baby, but this was too much. It was too early. You were scared, alone, and entirely unsure of what to do. The idea of bringing a human being into this world was daunting, and you couldn't shake the fear that you wouldn't be a good parent.

You stayed there on the bathroom floor for what felt like hours, tears streaming down your face, until finally you heard the sound of your thoughts, telling you that you need to tell him. Your heart skipped a beat as you quickly wiped away your tears, trying to compose yourself, and scrambled to your feet to find him.

You opened the door and went out, sniffling away your tears. You were determined to do what was right, even though you knew it would be painful.

── ◜‹3◞  SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY :

"I'm pregnant..." you said, your voice shaking.

You stood in front of Simon, your legs trembling as you held the positive pregnancy test in your hand. You had taken the test a dozen times, and each time it came back positive. You had tried to push the thought of it away, to pretend it wasn't happening, but the reality was sinking in. You were going to be a mother. But more than that, you might become a mother without the man you love.

The words echoed in the silence that followed, as if they hung in the air between you two. Simon took a step back, his eyes growing wider as he tried to make sense of what you had just told him.

Simon stood in front of you, his eyes searching yours for an answer. You could see the shock and confusion written all over his face, and you knew this was the moment to tell him.

"What.." you heard him whisper. You thought he was going to run, to leave you to face this alone. But he didn't move, he just stood there, frozen in place..

That isn't a good sign.

You felt a lump form in your throat as the tears welled up in your eyes. This was too much to bear on your own, and you needed him, you needed his support, or else you didn't know how you would make it through this. But the silence was unbearable, and you felt like you were suffocating.

"I.." You took a step forward, your hand extended towards him. "Please, Simon, I need you."

You cradled your stomach and felt hot tears slowly going down your cheeks. You sobbed as you managed to choke out, "I can't do this alone, Si'. Please..."

Long gone was the distress in his eyes. Softness emerged from them as he realized the situation. And you swore you saw a shimmer in his eyes. You slowly watch as he reached out and took your hand, his touch sending an electric shock through your body.

"I'm here, sorry, love," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I'm here for you."

You felt like you could finally breathe again, like you had just been given a second chance. You felt a sense of relief wash over you, and you broke down in tears, finally letting go of all the fear and emotion that had been swirling inside of you.

Simon pulled you into his arms, holding you tight as you cried, his presence the only thing that kept you going. You look up at Simon, tears streaming down your face.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper. "I know this is a lot to take in, and I know it's not the right time."

Simon's eyes soften as he lowers himself to one knee, taking your hands in his. "Don't be sorry, love," he says. "We're in this together, we'll figure it out. I love you. I'll do everything I can to be there for you and our baby."

You feel a rush of relief and gratitude wash over you, and you lean in to hug him. "Thank you, Simon," you whisper.

Over the next few months, Simon goes above and beyond to show his support. He does research on pregnancy, childbirth, and newborn care, and he attends every doctor's appointment with you. He asks questions and listens carefully to the advice of the healthcare professionals, and he makes a point of being involved in every aspect of your pregnancy.

As you begin to show, Simon becomes more protective of you, helping you with simple tasks like carrying groceries or opening doors.

Despite his own uncertainties and insecurities from his abusive father, Simon still dreams to be a good father. He would spend time reading parenting books and attending parenting classes.

In those early days, Simon is a different man than the one he was before the baby arrived. He's more patient, more sensitive, and more thoughtful. He listens to you more deeply, and he makes an effort to truly see and understand you.

Simon walked into the pub, greeted by the familiar sound of laughter and the smell of beer. He made his way to the bar and ordered a beer, before taking a seat at their usual table in the corner.

Gaz, Captain Price, and Soap were already there, engaged in a conversation. As soon as Simon sat down, Soap noticed his presence and greeted him with a wave.

"Hey, mate," Soap said, his accent thicker than usual after a few beers. "What's up?"

Simon took a sip of his beer and cleared his throat, trying to come up with the right words to say. "I need to talk to you guys about something," he said, his voice sounding a little hoarse.

Gaz put down his beer and turned to face Simon. "What's up, man?" he asked, his concern evident on his face.

Simon took a deep breath, steeling himself for the reaction he was going to get. "My girlfriend and I are expecting a baby," he said, feeling a mix of emotions wash over him.

The three friends looked surprised for a moment, before bursting into a chorus of congratulations and questions.

Gaz asked if it was a boy or a girl, while Captain Price offered to help build the nursery and Soap promised to be there for Simon every step of the way, even bragged at the man jokingly that he would be the favorite uncle of his child amongst Gaz and Price.

Simon felt overwhelmed with gratitude for his friends' support. He felt like he could handle anything, knowing that he had people in his life who cared about him and were there for him, no matter what.

Simon, although still is quite insecure with himself to be a dad, he wants to be there for your child.

── ◜‹3◞  KÖNIG :

König is sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone, unaware of what's about to happen and you shakily inhaled.

"Hun," you say, your voice trembling, "I need to talk to you."

He looks up at you, sensing that something's off.

"What's wrong, schatz?" he asks, placing his phone down and coming closer to you.

"I'm pregnant," you blurt out, feeling a wave of emotions wash over you. His eyes widen in surprise, and he takes a step back.

"W-Was meinst du?" he stammers in German, clearly taken aback by the news.

For a moment, there's silence between the two of you. You can see the fear and uncertainty in his expression.

"Are you sure?" he adds, his voice quieter than usual.

"I've taken three tests," you assure him and fumbled on your fingers. "It's... I'm sure."

You watch as König sinks onto the couch, rubbing his forehead as he tries to process the news. His social anxiety is starting to kick in, and you can see him pulling inward. You know this is a lot for him to take in, and you want to give him the space he needs to process his emotions.

But as you stand there, waiting for him to respond, you notice a sudden change in his behavior. He stood up to pace back and forth, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. You can tell that he's getting increasingly agitated, and you're not sure what's going on.

This hurts you. So much.

Before you confront him about it, he abruptly storms out of the room, his footsteps echoing through the house. You're left standing there, confused and worried. Hurt, you cradled yourself for protection. Was it something you said? Did you do something wrong?

You spend the next few minutes in a state of anxiety, unable to shake the feeling that something is deeply amiss. You have no idea what to do or where to turn. But then, several minutes later, König finally comes back.

You hear him before you see him, his footsteps pounding against the floor. You jump up from the couch, your heart pounding in your chest. It's clear that he's in a state of panic, his hair disheveled and his eyes wide with distress.

"I'm sorry," König says, his voice shaking as he rushes to you.

He pulls you into a tight hug, his body trembling against yours. You can feel his heart pounding against your chest, and you wrap your arms around him, offering comfort and reassurance.

"I'm so sorry, mein liebling," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please forgive me."

You're too stunned to even speak. Why'd he leave? And, he came back?

He takes your hands in his, tears streaming down his face.

"I never meant to hurt you," he says, his voice hitching. "It was just too much, too fast. I'm sorry, Es tut mir so leid, Süße."

"It's okay, König," you say, kissing the top of his head. "I understand. This is a lot for both of us to take in."

He pulls away slightly, looking up at you with teary eyes.

"I don't know if I'm ready for this," he says, his voice cracking. "I'm so scared. I don't want to mess this up."

You caress his cheek softly, smiling at him. "We'll figure this out together," you say, your voice filled with kindness and love. "Okay?"

He nods, clinging onto you tightly.

"Okay," he whispers, his voice filled with gratitude. "Danke, mein liebe. I love you so much."

König kissed your forehead and continued on peppering kisses all over your pretty face, making you giggle.

And in that moment, you know that everything will be alright. You're in this together, and you'll face whatever challenges come your way, hand in hand, united in love and determination.

The day König found out about the pregnancy was one of the most overwhelming moments of his life. He never expected to become a father so soon, and the thought of having so much responsibility suddenly weighed heavily on him.

As someone who struggles with social anxiety, he found it difficult to process his emotions and express them to you. He withdrew into myself, feeling isolated and like he was failing you.

But you refused to let him pull away. You gently but firmly pulled him back in, offering love and reassurance at every turn. You listened to his fears and concerns, and gave him the space to process them at his own pace. You were in this together, and he would be right there beside you every step of the way.

As the days passed, König slowly started to come out of his shell. He became more involved in the pregnancy, eager to learn and prepare for your new life as parents. He started to think about what kind of father he wanted to be, and how he could be the best partner he could be to you.

He was still anxious at times, but your support and love never wavered. You reminded him that he didn't have to be perfect, that you would face the future together, and that you would make mistakes along the way. Together, you faced every challenge that came your way, from picking out baby names to decorating the nursery. You became a team, united by your love for each other and your love for your child.

Through it all, König realized that you were his strength, his hope, and his happiness. You were his everything, and he couldn't imagine going through this journey without you. He knew that you were meant to be together, and that the road ahead would be filled with love, happiness, and joy.

König had always struggled with social anxiety, and it had been difficult for him to make friends. But he was incredibly close to his beloved grandmother, who he knew would be overjoyed to hear the news of his soon-to-be fatherhood.

So, he took a deep breath and started to write down what he wanted to say, practicing it a few times to help him feel more prepared. He knew that this was an important moment in his life, and he wanted to share it with the person he loved the most.

When he finally approached his grandmother's house, he could already hear her laughter and happy tears. It was as if she had been expecting the news, and he felt a weight lifted off his shoulders.

König takes a deep breath and approaches his grandmother, holding out the sonogram photo. His heart races as he waits for her to look up, eager to share the news.

"Großmutter," he trailed off. "I have some news to share with you."

"Oh, König, selbstverständlich!" the old woman said in her native tongue as she turns to him. "What is it, dear?"

"Großmutter," He clears his throat. "I'm going to be a father."

König watches his grandma's eyes light up and he felt so relieved to hear, "Oh König, that's wonderful news! I'm so happy for you!"

To his surprise, his grandmother responded with the sweetest words of love and encouragement that he had ever heard. She told him how proud she was of him, and how excited she was for your journey ahead as the mother of her grandkid.

He replies back in German, "Thank you, Großmutter. It means so much to have your support."

The old woman stood up and hugged him tightly, "Of course, dear. You know I'll always be here for you."

His grandma then kisses his cheek. He could see the joy on her face as he told her about the new life growing inside him, and he felt a warm sense of love and acceptance. Konig felt an overwhelming rush of happiness and gratitude as he hugged his grandmother tightly. For someone who struggled with social anxiety, the kindness and love that she showed him made him feel more confident and secure in the journey ahead.

With their love and guidance, König was excited to embrace the next chapter of his life as a father. He knew that he would never have to face life's challenges alone, he had you. You had always been there for him in the past, and he knew that you would continue to be there in the future. And with the new life growing inside him, he felt a sense of hope and happiness that he had never experienced before.

König can't wait to be the father of your child and shower him or her with endless affection and support.

[thedollydiaries]

hello! i read your family fic and absolutely loved it with all my heart<3333 i was wondering if you could write more about the riley family :33

maybe they’re celebrating someone in the family’s birthday! your pick on who it is :D

but i would love to see what you do with this<3333

you ask for birthday and i raise you:

soldier returning home for his children's birthday🥰

i hope you enjoy !! <3

simon "ghost" riley x mom!reader/children!ocs

word count: 1433

warnings: pure pure fluff, tears of joy, so so so so much crying from reader and the 17 year old son (bc men are allowed to be vulnerable too <3)

a/n: simon returing from a mission early for the twins' fourth birthday?? i think yes :) idk why but this is immediately what came to mind when i read this request. this fic takes place just before the riley family vacation to soap's beach house <3 in my mind it's like early july

a/n 2.0: also we officially have names for the riley kids. bug, matthew, lyla and luka <3

--------

"mandy it's not his fault he can't be here, he's literally in a another country fighting a war right now. i'm sure he's just as heartbroken about it as the rest of us." you sighed to your sister in law.

it was the twins' fourth birthday, you and your sister's wife mandy, were in the kitchen prepping the food for their birthday party in 20 minutes.

"i don't know, i just think he should've asked for the time off. he knows when his kids' birthdays are." the blonde said as she cut up some strawberries.

"he can't just request time off in his job. his job isn't like a 9-5 mandy."

you were starting to get frustrated with the conversation so you just decided to change the topic and turn the attention towards the stars of the day, the twins.

"anyhow, the twins are going to wake up from their nap any minute now so i'm gonna go upstairs and shower really quick before i lose the opportunity."

"alright, i'll start bringing the food and games outside."

"okay, bug and matthew should be out there setting up the tables and decorations so ask them for help if you need it. when is erin coming back again?"

"she said she'd be back just after the party started, she needs to go pick up the rest of lyla and luka's gifts."

"gifts? plural? mandy, you two already brought like four seperate bags of gifts! they're four they don't need this much." you replied with a laugh, disbelief overtaking you as mandy reveals her and your sister were absolutely spoiling your children.

"they deserve it! plus, i promise, you'll like this last part she's getting too. now go! go! get your shower."

"god, you two are insufferable." you mutter, mostly to yourself, with a slight laugh as you walk up the stairs to get to your room and take a quick shower.

almost immediately after you step out of the shower and wrap a towel around yourself, the cries of one of the twins rang through the house, their cries triggering the cries from their twin. you let out a soft sigh and dried yourself off as quickly as possible and slipped on your bathrobe, making your way to the twins' room.

"awake from your nap my darlings?" you say softly as you enter their room and approach their separate cribs.

lifting luka from his crib first, you hold him out for a moment and then bring him close, pressed to your chest.

"happy birthday, my sweet pumpkin." you say softly, rocking the crying infant whose cries die down slowly now that he is in the arms of someone safe and loving.

you walk over to lyla's crib, adjusting luka in your arms to carry him in just one so you can reach in a hand to lyla to let her know you're there.

her cries begin to cease as she grabs at your hand.

"hi there baby, did you nap well angel? happy birthday~" you coo at her.

lyla nods as she grabs at your fingers.

"i'm gonna put your brother in here with you for a moment so i can go get your outfits." you tell her with a smile as you set luka in the crib with lyla.

you turn to their dresser and pick out their outfits for the party, you suppose you'll just have to get dressed in a few minutes.

it was a bit of a struggle to get the outfits on thr twins, both having woken from their naps with a lot of energy meanth they were wiggling around as you were trying to change them and that only prolonged the task.

eventually though, you were successful and placed the two down onto the floor and smiled at them. "goodness, look at how cute you two are... gotta take a picture for daddy, yeah? look at mummy, smile!"

you take your phone out from the pocket if your bathrobe and snap a picture of lyla and luka, adorable smiles on their faces.

a small twinge of sadness pokes at you as you take the picture, sad that simon will only get to see them on their birthday through a picture. celebrating his babies' birthday alone on base.

nonetheless you shake off your negative thoughts and pocket your phone once more, picking the twins up and carrying them both back to your room so you could keep an eye on them as you tried your best to get ready in time for the party

you were now 40 minutes into the party, games being played, the bunch of kids in your backyard ran around and laughed happily. you scanned the area, taking note of where all your own children are.

bug was playing in the dirt with lyla, probably looking for critters, something they bonded over frequently.

matthew was playing tag with luka and some of the other little kids, letting them tag him as they played.

"erin should be back in about five or so minutes." mandy says from behind you, causing you to jump a little at the suddenness.

"jeez! oh, okay.." you reply, putting a hand over your heart to calm yourself as you laughed a little from nerves.

"we should probably start opening presents, yeah?" mandy suggests, motioning to the overflowing presents table.

you couldn't say you didn't spoil your kids, that's for sure.

"yeah, you're right." you nod and begin to call out to the guests and your family.

"guys! it's time for presents and cake!"

"present!" you hear luka scream excitedly, beginning to try and run over to you.

you laugh at his cuteness and sit down, letting everyone gather around, situating the twins on your lap while they open their presents.

you were almost to the end of all the presents when you heard the patio door slid open and closed, erin walking through with a few bags in her hands.

"so sorry i'm late! but i have lots of presents!" she calls, waking over to you and the twins as she holds up the bags.

"here, here, take them." she says, pushing them all onto the table.

"thanks erin, you really didn't have to get this much." you reply with a laugh, letting both of the twins reach out to try and grab the bags, you make sure they grab their own bags, watching as they opened them excitedly.

"okay, erin and i have one more present, but it's for all five of you. gimme just a minute, i'll be right back with it, it's a big gift." mandy says as the twins finish opening their presents.

this makes you look at erin and mandy, a confused and almost worried look on your face. you knew your sister and her wife pretty well and there's so many ways this could go.

mandy runs into the house as everyone at the party waits in anticipation for whatever the hell mandy could've brought.

when mandy returns, her gift is the very last thing you expect.

simon walks through the back door with her, a smile on his unmasked face.

"daddy!" lyla squeals loudly, wiggling from your lap to run over to simon, hugging his leg as she cried from her overwhelming happiness.

"dad?!" you hear matthew and bug yell in shock, both of their voices cracking.

matthew full on runs into simon's arms, hugging his father as tight as he possible could as he also cried, overwhelmed by shock and happiness. he sobbed hard into simon's shoulder as simon chuckled and rubbed his back. "missed you too bud."

"oh my god.. simon?" you say softly, getting up from your seat as you keep luka in your shaking arms.

"c'mere, love." simon responds, motioning in a come hither motion to you.

like you were on autopilot, your feet carried you and luka over to simon, joining in on the family hug. bug was the last to join, wrapping their arms tightly around simon from behind.

"i missed you all so much..." simon says softly, quiet enough for just your sweet little family to hear.

"we missed you too dad." matthew says between sniffles, his emotions still getting the best of him.

"and happy birthday to my two little rascals, you're... three now right?" simon says, teasing the twins.

"no! daddy silly! we dis many." lyla says with a giggle, holding up four fingers in her father's face.

"ah yes, my mistake princess." he chuckles and gives her little head a kiss.

this was definitely the best birthday party you could've ever had for the twins.

[thirdlotusprince3]

Other idea I had Anger forced Pouchy to swallow all the new emotions so they will not be a problem.

And

Envy is acts more like a spoiled rich kid who cries and tantrums to get what she wants.

(Okay the Logan Paul and Jojo Siwa I'm kinda making fun of them, I don't actually like any of them)

Based off of this

(99+) Of the options listed below, which one would completely ruin “Avatar the Last Airbender” for you? Aang discriminates against... – @giveamadeuschohisownmovie on Tumblr

[uselessgay10101]

Summary | A long night filled with hurtful truths and healing words

Warnings | discussions of feelings, some agnst maybe, mention of death....gay?

A/N | This is written with MY Mc bc Riley. Yeah Riley doesn't give me "I would kiss the ground you walk on" ....yes my Mc is obsessed with hana as I am. Gomez addam style. Who wouldn't be?

W/C | 2632

Pairing | Hana Lee x Alma Huntress

A03 Link | Right here bb <33333

Disclaimer | none of the characters are mine ... obviously. The characters were all created by Pixelberry Studios in their book "The Royal Romance" on the app called "Choices: Stories You Play" ... idk go see. Wlw is not good in the book but 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

○○○●●●○○○●●●○○○●●●○○○

"I'd go through it a million times..."

------------------------------------------------

Pleasantly sore, Hana turned in bed, reaching across to the other side of her bed, looking for her own personal pillow. Unfortunately, her fingers grazed only the cool, empty space.

She pouted, blinking the sleep from her eyes, only to see her wife, Alma, leaning on the railing of their balcony.

"Hey," Hana whispered, her voice thick with the remnants of sleep. "Is everything okay?"

The Duchess gasped as the mere sound of her wife shocked her. She turned quickly. "Hana, you scared me," she laughed softly.

Hana's brows furrowed, seeing her wife's tear-streaked face. Moving off the bed, she whispered soothingly, "What's wrong, darling?"

Alma chuckled, flushed. She looked away, embarrassed. "Sorry, I didn't think you'd wake—"

Hana gently cupped Alma's chin, her thumb brushing softly against her skin as she shifted her face, locking eyes with her. The tender gesture spoke on its own, conveying a depth of affection that words could never quite capture.

"Alma," Hana whispered, her voice filled with warmth, "I took a vow to love and cherish you for the rest of my days. I think impromptu nights where I have to stay up to listen to you are a given."

Alma's lips parted in a slow, affectionate smile, her eyes reflecting the same adoration. "I'm... happy," she replied, her voice husky with emotion—a mix of resignedness, joy, and sadness.

Hana watched as Alma tilted her head up to the sky, her eyes tracing the vast expanse above with an almost sacred yearning. The moon's light bathed the duchess, highlighting the delicate curve of the woman's neck and the soft flutter of her lashes. There was a serene intensity in her expression, as if she were communing with the heavens themselves.

"You're beautiful, you know that?"

Alma blinked, surprised, turning to Hana and blushing. "That's my line," she laughed softly.

Hana smirked as she kissed the end of Alma's shocked smile.

"Doesn't make it any less true." She laughed softly against her wife's soft lips.

Pulling away, Hana caressed the woman's cheek, her eyes shining with adoration. She spoke softly, taking care not to break the comforting atmosphere, "What was on your mind?"

Alma glanced away, only to force her eyes to meet Hana's deep and soulful gaze. Her eyes held the warmth of a thousand sunsets, her eyes—her very presence made everything all the more comforting and enchanting.

Hana raised an expectant eyebrow playfully. "Well?"

The duchess blinked, snapping back to reality. "Sorry, I quite literally got lost in your eyes."

Chuckling softly, Hana cupped Alma's face, her fingers tracing the outline of her jaw. Her face slowly flushed as she spoke. "Sweettalker," she giggled, "but don't think that gets you out of telling me what's wrong."

Alma pouted playfully. "Aw, man, I thought I had you."

Hana laughed lightly, smacking her shoulder. "Come on now!"

Alma smiled before frowning and looking up at the night sky with the same anguished longing. "Do you think they—" Her throat locked as her eyes filled with emotion.

She chuckled nervously, shaking her head before Hana gently wiped her tears. Pressing her cheek to Hana's hand, Alma took a deep breath, steeling herself.

"It's about my parents."

Hana blinked.

Seeing this, Alma laughed loudly. "Shocking, I know! I never mentioned them once, and if I did, it was without much context." She kissed her love's hand before looking down at the lake. "Now here I am, crying and feeling..." She shrugged, looking down. "Sad? Nostalgic? Mad it even happened?"

Hana bit her lip, looking away nervously. "I don't want to pry—"

"You're my wife."

Hana turned to Alma only to see her surprisingly firm expression, which softened at the sight of her love.

Taking a breath Alma continued "It's been a while since I accepted everything that happened, but I still..." Her face crunched. "...Don't enjoy remembering."

Hana nodded before leading Alma to sit on a nearby bench. "You can talk to me about it... or anything until you get tired again."

Alma huffed good-naturedly. "Aren't you tired? You—"

Hana simply smiled. "Again—I took a vow in front of everyone to love you each and every day, and at times, that means—" She shrugged, laughing as she stared softly at Alma. "...Staying up to hear you rant about anything until your mind lets you go to bed, where I can hold you close. You do more than enough for me, and it's only fair I do the same for you."

Alma ducked her head, shielding her blushing face. "How are you so perfect?"

Laughing, Hana gently pulled Alma into her arms. "You think too much of me, my darling."

"Quite impossible, my lady." She chuckled, kissing Hana's chin.

After exchanging small sweet kisses and relishing in each other's company, Hana asked, "Do you want to talk now, or should I wait... and steal more kisses?"

She stole several kisses, making Alma laugh. "I'll talk if you do more of that."

Kissing her wife's cheek, Hana's laugh was whispered in her darling's ear. "I will for the rest of my days."

Alma smiled, cheeks flushing before lightly clutching Hana's body.

Hana waited patiently, kissing her wife's forehead as the woman gathered herself.

"You remember what I said when you were writing invitations?"

Hana nodded almost immediately. "Yes, of course!"

---

Wrapping her arms around the working duchess’s neck, Hana asked, "My darling, do you have anyone you'd like to invite to our wedding?"

Alma's jaw clenched unconsciously before taking a breath, leaning her head back on her wife. "Hm... Daniel, definitely!" She laughed. "Poor guy is probably telling people how he waited tables with Cordonia's newest duchess, and no one believes him!"

Hana laughed. "Already done, my dear." She glanced away as she asked, "Anyone else?"

After a moment, the duchess smiled, letting out a quiet, closed-mouthed laugh before reaching up behind herself and pulling Hana into a brief kiss. "That'd be all, my love. You don't have to worry."

---

"I didn't want to pry for more..."

"You wouldn't have if you asked." With a giggle, the duchess kissed her anxious wife.

Pulling away, Alma's fingers unconsciously pinched her nightgown before sighing. "Well, it's not as... not as bad as I'm making it out to be." She chuckled nervously. She took a deep breath. "I just miss them." She looked into her wife's sympathetic eyes with a saddened smile.

She shrugged. "I guess those emotions kind of boiled over to how I acted towards your mother and father."

Hana tilted her head, confused. "What do you mean?"

Alma let out a subdued laugh, glancing away before looking back at Hana. "I was... mad. The way they treated you. That-" She looked away. "That's not..." She bit her lip, eyebrows furrowing angrily. "Parents aren't supposed to act like that."

A single tear rolled down her cheek, thick with pain, shoulders trembling with rage. More tears. These weren't soft, sad drops—no. These tears were different. Heavy with disappointment, they carried the bitter sting of resentment. Is that too much? Maybe. But she didn't care. They hurt her wife and she'd gladly throw them out on the curb herself if Hana wasn't so... Hana. Her wife was so different than her. She loved it. She loved her

And yet her jaw clenched as the tears burned their path down her skin, the liquid a mix of heartbreak and fury. The tears seemed to sizzle with disgust, a physical manifestation of her revulsion at what she witnessed. How dare they...

"I'm not... I don't hate them. If they really do change, I could forgive them, but I know I will never forgive them for what they did to you for your entire life. Parents aren't supposed to be like that no matter what they say." She took a deep breath. "When..." She swallowed a cry, glancing away. "Uh, when—"

Hana gently guided her face back to face her own. "When?"

Alma looked down after a second but looked up just as fresh tears rolled down her eyes. "When... I was 15, they—" She whimpered as if she momentarily was that scared 15-year-old. She felt pathetic. She was always the strong one and yet she folded the minute it came to emotions. Her emotions.

Smiling understandingly, Hana placed a gentle kiss on her wife's forehead, waiting as she held onto her hand. Her warmth seeped into Alma's heart, soothing the duchess enough to continue talking.

"My parents died in a car crash. They collided with a semi-truck and would've been unrecognizable if it weren't for their identification." She looked away before looking back at Hana.

Alma wet her lips, her fingers tracing the sewing pattern of her clothes. An annoyed sound escaped her mouth before she forced herself to talk after an almost comedic inner battle played on her face.

"Point is—they died, and since they didn't have a will, their assets were distributed by law. They weren't rich or anything, but they did have things our relatives envied." She huffed bitterly. "Ypu can imagine what happened when they died. As for me, my aunt, Susan, took me in." She snickered, whispering, "I think it was only for the money she'd get." She frowned. "She didn't help me in anything." Her features hardened as her eyes darkened as she told her fun little story.

"She worked me however she could, legally, of course—mostly. I don't think being an underage teen worker in bars was very legal." She chuckled before biting her lip, fists clenching harder as she looked down. "She always wanted more than what she had no matter what I said." A tear rolled down the angry duchess's cheek. "So when I was finally old enough, I left her and everything behind me." She sighed as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

Alma looked back at Hana. "I'm sorry for not mentioning my 'backstory' to you of all people, but—" She looked away, ashamed. "It just—" An unexpected pained sound escaped her throat. She shook her head, shoulders shaking slightly as she tried to hold back her tears. "I didn't mean—"

Hana closed her eyes, her breath shaky as she pressed her forehead gently against Alma's. Her heart ached as the warmth of the contact filled the raw silence.

With a quiet voice, she spoke, her words trembling with raw emotion. "I'm sorry you had to go through that and deal with my parents being... insufferable."

Alma smiled bitterly. "I'm sorry you had to deal with your insufferable parents." They laughed before Alma pulled away slightly.

"Want to know something?"

Hana pulled away enough to look into her eyes. "What?"

Alma laughed with a tear-filled voice. "I don't even regret what happened in my life." She pulled away from her wife's soft hands with a soft kiss.

She held Hana's face delicately. "I'd go through it a million times over if it meant getting to even meeting you."

The duchess's thumbs softly stroked her wife's cheeks, as if grounding herself with every tender movement. Alma's eyes locked with Hana's, filled with quiet intensity and unspoken gratitude as she leaned in, kissing her softly before resting her forehead against each other's.

Hana hummed softly, a gentle smile on her lips, The very words made her feel both shy and happy at once.

"I'm still not happy about what you went through" Hana huffed. "I get they were envious but you were still a kid who lost her parents! You deserved everything but that!"

Alma laughed sadly "Grown ups, even us, are very stuck in our ways. Whether that's 'good' or 'bad', my love. However unfortunate that is to some people" she rolled her eyes.

After a moment, Alma looked up at the sky longingly again. "They..." She swallowed audibly. "My parents used to tell me that no matter where I went or how far apart we were, the night sky would always connect us. I never thought I'd have to repeat that to myself before."

Tears rolled down the duchess’s cheeks, even as she closed her eyes with an almost serene expression. "I miss them... but I know they're looking after me. Somewhere. Even if I can't see them but... It's a strange kind of sad. I miss them. I miss my dad's laugh. My mom's cooking."

Hana chuckled "Your laugh is what I imagine your dad's is—" She points to her throat. "Very throaty and loud when its true" she laughed "and your cooking is amazing! Very... homey." Hana giggles. "It definitely feels like you have people looking after you sometimes." She smirked "Especially because you survived two assassination attempts and haven't burned down our kitchen while laughing with that laugh of yours."

Riley laughed joyfully.

Hana's eyes twinkled as the same laugh she was talking about seemed to wrap her heart in a gentle hug.

She coughed softly, biting her lip, whispering. "Do you think—" She stopped, looking away. "Never mind, it's silly." She shook her hands, laughing shyly. "I—"

Covering her mouth gently, Alma leaned in to peck a small kiss on Hana's forehead, grinning happily. "Now, my love, you just woke yourself up to hear me rant about my trauma, and as the upcoming 'Wife of the Year,' the least I can do is hear yours."

Hana, despite herself, smiled and laughed quietly. She took a breath, continuing, "Do you think I'm weak for—for wanting to forgive them? My parents I mean." She glanced away "Because I wouldn't blame you. It sometimes feels like I'm just trying to please them again and I—" Despite herself, tears fell down her tanned cheeks.

Before she could wipe them away, Alma's arms encircled Hana like the softest of shelters, her touch as delicate as a whisper and as careful as handling something impossibly fragile. She gathered Hana close, her embrace a living sanctuary where each movement was measured and tender. Her hand cradled the back of Hana's head, fingers threading through her hair with a gentleness that spoke of boundless understanding and love the woman has for her.

Hana melted into Alma's embrace—familiar, comfortable, like coming home. This isn't a moment of breakthrough or deep trauma processing, but a simple, profound connection between two partners who are in love and know each other intimately in every way. She sighed, not with pain, but with quiet contentment. Her muscles relaxed effortlessly, her head finding its perfect resting place against Alma's shoulder.

The way Alma held her was like she was holding a flower made of glass—not with fear of breaking like her mother would, but with reverence, with a strength that was entirely about her protection and healing. Her breath synchronized with Alma's, a quiet rhythm of connection, of bearing witness to whatever wounds or memories resurfaced in that moment.

Alma spoke softly, still holding Hana close. "I could never think you, of all people, weak. The fact you are here with me is fact enough to prove you are strong." Alma placed a kiss on crying Hana's hair. "I think the whole saying of ‘forgive and forget’ is so much more complicated than simply forgiving someone and forgetting they ever hurt you." She frowned. "The sad truth is you can never really forget what people do to you—"

She pulled away, smiling empathetically. "-but you can live on like you forgot. I guess the saying basically means forgive so you can forget. In the end, forgiveness is about freedom, not about actually forgetting. Forgive like you forgot."

Hana laughed against Alma's shoulder. "You always turn into such a philosopher when you give advice."

Alma blushed, smirking. "Do you not like it?"

Hana laughed, hugging her tighter. "I never said that!"

Alma's eyes glimmered as a memory resurfaced. "You want to do something with me?"

Hana pulled away, smirking. "You know I'd do anything with you."

Alma rolled her eyes, blushing lightly, flicking Hana's forehead. "Oh, quiet." She walked into the room, retrieving her phone.

Hana raised an eyebrow. "What are you planning?"

Alma smirked before walking to stand before Hana. "It's been 12 hours since I've danced with you, so..." She increased her phone's volume as music started to play. She bowed, offering her hand to Hana. "May I have this dance, Duchess Hana?"

Hana grinned happily. "Why, of course, Duchess of Paragon." She grabbed Alma's hand with an exaggerated movement.

Alma laughed before pulling Hana to her. Her hand found Hana's waist with a gentle certainty, their bodies moving in a rhythm that seemed to exist between them long before the music started. It wasn't a performance, but a conversation—each subtle shift, each twirl was a whispered word, a shared secret, another confirmation of their adoration for each other. Hana's fingers intertwined with Alma's, their connection more profound than the physical space they occupied.

They moved slowly, not with the precision of skilled dancers they were, but with the intimacy of two souls who knew each other's landscapes. Alma's eyes never left Hana's, a soft smile playing at the corners of her lips. The dance was less about steps and more about connection—a silent dialogue of love, of understanding, of being completely present in a single, suspended moment.