When you were pregnant, Simon was so worried she would be huge like he was. He lived in terror that the birth would be horrendous for you. He felt so guilty, blaming himself for a scenario that he made up. The thought of doing anything to hurt you was torture for him.

But, when she came out, she was tiny. Little fingers and just over 5lbs. Simon had never held something so little. He could hardly even believe it when he took her into his arms for the first time. This tiny little thing was his and yours. Perfect and ridiculously miniature.

Her little fingers wrapped around his thumb as she makes little frustrated sounds. “Don’t think she’s a big fan o’ me, Lovie.” It comes out as a joke, but for him, it’s a half truth. One of his biggest fears coming out, trying its hardest to damper his mood.

“She’s just hungry, Si. She likes you plenty. She’s only about an hour old.” You smile tiredly as you look at your large husband cradling your impossibly tiny little girl.

Your daughter pulls his thumb forward, trying to nurse on him. “Ah wrong one, darling. You’ll need mummy for that.” He laughs. You swear if you didn’t know any better, you would think he was crying.

Simon’s little girl is unexpected to say the least. No one but the two of you knew about her, besides her pediatrician and even then Simon did not enjoy having another person know of his child.

He was terrified really. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t petrified of the wrong people knowing about her. He had seen too much to foolishly believe that the world would be safe for her. The world would be cruel enough to her already. Being his child came with a risk that wasn’t even her fault.

So when you show up on base with the little baby in her stroller, dressed in a little bonnet, yellow summer dress and the smallest shoes the men had ever seen, it was quite a shock. He had told them about you. Bits and pieces here and there. Never anything concrete. Certainly nothing about your baby girl.

She babbled nonsense as she was lifted out of her floral stroller, the one you insisted upon getting. “Ahhh bahhh bah!” She shrieked as she kicks her tiny legs, recognizing her father immediately, tiny hands clapping together.

He takes her into his arms. It looks ridiculous. Such a small thing compared to the towering behemoth of a man. “Hi, Lovie girl,” he whispers, kissing the top of her head. “You a good girl for mummy?”

You smile at your husband. You loved to see them together. It’s like Simon really became himself when she was in his arms. “The best.”

The team stares, confusion written all over their faces. Johnny looks almost offended at being kept in the dark. “Tha’ thing is yours?” He asks as he pressed a scandalized hand against his chest.

Simon merely grunts in response, adjusting the baby and grabbing her stuffed bunny from your bag.

“Don’t seem like the dad type,” Kyle mutters, though it’s void of judgment.

Simon ignores him. He knew it was true. It had been on his mind since the day you told him you were pregnant. Even now he couldn’t always shake the feeling that he wasn’t cut out for this.

Your girls babbling snaps him out of his thoughts. “Mmmaa buh.” She says with complete conviction, nodding her little head and reaching up to pull on the balaclava covering his face.

Johnny looks nothing short of delighted. He smiles at the baby and tickles her, making her scream in pure anger and try to bite him with her tiny teeth. Your girl hated nothing more than being tickled. “I’m the uncle, right?” Johnny grins as he squishes her cheeks, earning another attempted bite.

Continuation here

Simon Riley is the type of man to go to your mean boss' house in the middle of the night to “scare him straight” after he hurt your feelings.

He canceled your office birthday party. "Purely budgetary" was what he said, but Simon didn’t give a fuck. That bastard hurt your feelings, and as your husband, it’s his job to fix it and make you happy.

He waited until you were asleep to track the man down. He drove with the headlights off, wanting to be completely undetected. The house was nice. Too nice. Just another thing that pissed him off. This muppet didn’t deserve a house this nice. 

His large fist pounds the door hard, ready to kick this prick's ass straight into the ground. Your boss answers the door in his robe, looking tired and annoyed.

His face changes quickly when he sees your gigantic, furious husband on his doorstep, masked and all in black. “Who- who are you? I don’t have any money.” Your boss stammers in terror, lips trembling. 

Simon huffs and pushes the door open fully. “I don’t want your fuckin’ money, prick. I’m here for my wife.”

“I don't have her! I swear, Sir! I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The pathetic wanker was nearly in tears already just at the sight of Simon. To his credit, Simon was a sight to behold, especially when he showed up ready to throw fists and ask questions later.

“Shut up!” Simon bellows. “You hurt 'er feelings today, canceled 'er party. She’s been excited about tha', been talking all month about it.” It was true; you really had been excited for that stupid party. It was nothing but a small office party with a cake and maybe some streamers, but Simon knew it meant the world to you. 

“What? That… that was budgetary. I had no choice.” Your boss faltered, pulling the fluffy robe tighter around himself like it would save him from the soldier in front of him ready to strike. 

“I don’t give a fuck.” Simon growled, standing taller and grabbing the man by his collar. “I’ve killed men for less than this.” 

“Please, Sir.” Your boss whimpered, trying to pull away. 

“Be quiet, you pathetic shrew.” Simon rolls his eyes and shoves the man inside, towering over him. “You’re gonna do exactly what I say, or we're gonna have problems.”

Your boss scampered away quickly, trembling now. He pressed himself into a corner like a frightened animal. “Okay okay I swear I’ll do whatever you want.”

Simon sneered at him, satisfied with the pathetic display. “You’re gonna give ‘er the party. You’re gonna make it the best damn party she’s ever been to. There will be gifts, an apology, and whatever cake my wife wants. Got it?”

“Y-yes yes I understand.” Your boss nodded rapidly, eyes wide and pleading.

Simon couldn’t help but smirk. He deserved this. Deserved this for making you sad, taking something special from you. Your boss was not going to get away with it. “Throw a bonus check in there too.”

“I can’t just-“ Your boss sputtered pitifully. It was bullshit. Simon knew it. The company was doing better than ever, especially considering the lavish state of this man's house. He would find the money for your party whether he liked it or not. 

Simon was having none of it. He wouldn’t actually kill him. You would never allow that. But that didn’t stop Simon from crouching for effect, needing to really give this little shit a good scare. “Do it. Or I’ll be back, yeah?”

Your boss looked down, nodding in surrender. “Y-yeah… okay.” 

Simon slipped back into your house without a word that night. He tells you nothing when you come home with that bright, beautiful smile, saying that your boss gave you the party and you got a raise to go with it. Seeing that look on your face would always be worth terrifying a man in the middle of the night. 

Simon was used to sleeping alone. If you could even really call it sleeping. Passing out from pure exhaustion, body unable to handle being awake any longer wasn’t your definition of “sleeping”.

Simon saw no issue. The less time he spent unconscious and vulnerable the better. So when he moved in with you? Yeah, you had to do something about it.

The first night you found him he was face down on the couch, phone just barely dangling from his hand.

You wanted to be angry, to be frustrated that he didn’t come to bed with you, but you understood. The man had never had a moment of peace his entire life, no wonder he wouldn’t be able to relax. Sleep was vulnerability and for Simon, vulnerability meant death.

You started small, lingering around him when he clearly started getting tired. You would just talk and touch his hair, trying to make him feel relaxed and safe. Eventually, he drifts off with your hands in his hair.

It takes months of slowly conditioning helping him to feel like he really can relax in your home. Each time you found him somewhere strange, clearly having knocked out there you start all over again, determined to get him to properly rest.

Finally FINALLY one night when you are deep into your skincare routine do you hear him shuffling into the room, setting his phone down and crawling into bed.

You can hardly contain yourself, nearly leaping onto him when you get into bed, sheet mask halfway falling off your face as you pepper him with kisses.

Continuation of this

Today was your company picnic, which Simon always refused to go to. It was tacky, boring, and he was forced to socialize with strangers. It was nothing but a nightmare for him.

But you had begged and begged, big eyes and batting lashes. He caved after just two days. So here he was, miserable as can be in a nice sunny park, surrounded by your co-workers.

Knowing that he was here didn’t help. Ever since we went banging on your boss' door, work had been much better for you. You got all sorts of special treatment and as many paid days off as you wanted. You didn’t have a clue why, but it made you happy, so he didn’t say a word.

After being introduced to who he believed was everyone on earth, he finally spotted your boss, Mr. Burton. Fucking son of a bitch. Simon detested him with every ounce of his being. He didn’t give one single shit about whether he was nice to you now. He knew it was just because he was scared of him, not because he respected or valued you.

You nearly drag him over to say hello. He goes unwillingly, cursing himself and this day as he stalks along beside you.

Burton looks like he might shit himself then and there when he spots Simon at your side. “Mr- Mr Riley. Hello, it’s a… it’s a pleasure to see you again… Sir.” Burton stammers anxiously, standing as tall as he can, but the anxiety is unmistakable.

You turn to look up at your husband, the surprise plain on your face. As far as you were concerned, Simon had never seen this man in his life. “You two have met?” You tilt your head curiously at him.

Simon grunts in response, shrugging once. “You could say tha’.”

“Y-yes yes we have… spoken. Once,” Mr. Burton stammers, nodding quickly. His lips curling into a false smile.

You look between the two men, eyes narrowing suspiciously. Something wasn't right here and you wanted answers. “Mhm. That’s nice.”

Simon sneers down at the frightened man, satisfied with his trembling. Stupid little prick. Getting what he deserved. “Glad to see you took my advice to heart, Burton. Smart man.”

Mr. Burton let out a startled, pained laugh. He put his arm around his very confused wife, pulling her closer on instinct. “Yes, Sir. You- you make very compelling points.”

“I know.” Simon said flatly, his face void of expression, which only seemed to make Mr. Burton's skin crawl more than it already was. If such a thing were even possible. Simon loved it.

Your mouth hangs open just slightly, unsure of what to do or what is even happening with these two men. “Simon what doe-“ You can't even finish your sentence before Simon is retreating from the conversation.

“Good to see you again, Burton.” Simon says with daggers in his voice, eyes narrowed tight and unyielding. He clasps your hand and pulls you away to the snack table.

You scoff, staring at him in disbelief. “Simon, what on earth was that about?” Never in your years together had you seen Simon react that way to anyone.

He looks away, going to grab a sandwich off the table, but you snatch it from his hand. “Nothin’. Don’t worry about it.”

“Did you do something to that man?” You cross your arms, looking up at him. "Look at me, Simon." You loved him more than anything, but God was he stubborn.

“No. Just gave him a talkin’ to is all, Lovie. Little reminder on his manners.” He shrugs nonchalantly, refusing to give you what you're looking for.

“Simon Riley! I can’t believe you.” You gasp, shoving the sandwich back at him, but there isn't any real anger in it. As long as it kept Burton off your back, you couldn't be mad.

TF141 + König getting pranked by reader by doing the “I found (best friend) on hinge” trend from TikTok

Tags: fluff, mentions of cheating, but no actual cheating

WC: 1417

A/N: I'm so behind on this trend, but I couldn't get it out of my mind. Bon appetite!

Ghost just stares at you. His face is blank, not even blinking when you say you saw Johnny on hinge.

He sits back slowly in his chair, dinner forgotten in front of him. “You lyin’?”

You smile, thinking you have him right where you want him. “I’m not lying! I saw it today. Even saved it for you”

“Saved it for me?” He asks, his brows starting to pull together.

Shit.

“Yeah. Figured you might get a laugh,” you continue, voice hitching slightly as you try to keep the act up, fighting the urge to tell him it's all just a joke. At least that would get that look off his face.

His lips press together as his hands drop from the table. “Get a laugh? You thought I would get a laugh from knowing my bird is fuckin’ around on hinge? That’s funny, huh?”

Oh. Oh he looks… hurt. Angry sure, but the hurt is unmistakable in his eyes. If you didn't know any better you would say he looked like he might cry.

King!Simon had never been very affectionate. He didn't believe in it. There was no point in being frivolous with his love. It was stupid. It was for the weak.

That was until your child was born. She was small, so small it scared him. He was sure she was ill or something was wrong, but here she was dressed in what he considered to be the world’s most needlessly opulent dress for a little baby girl. She babbled happily and smashed her wooden toy horse into the stone floor of your shared chambers.

He huffs, eyes looking over your happy baby. “She looks ridiculous.”

“She looks royal. Like a little princess should,” you retort. You had dressed her in the finest clothes you could find, sent as a gift from your family. It was customary to show wealth and power with lavish clothing for your people. Simon did not feel the same way.

“Your people are strange. I see no need for this drama.” He mutters, sighing. He would never say it out loud, but he found her extravagant clothing to be entirely adorable.

You turn your nose up at him, scooping the little girl into your lap and adjusting her dress so it didn't wrinkle. “It shows she is important, Simon.”

“Important people have many furs or weapons. Things of strength, not… a little gold dress.” He insisted, patting the girls back as she coughs.

You roll your eyes and hand your daughter over to him when she starts to fuss, little hands making a grabbing motion at her father. “Oh hush. She is darling.”

“Mmm. Sweet child." He nods in agreement, poking her cheek with his finger, earning a squeal and laugh from her.

He indulged her at every chance. Toys and dresses filled the chest he had made for her with his own hands. He had even started a second to fit more of her possessions. In her short 8 months she had already accumulated quite a collection.

Simon took her everywhere, even if it wasn’t deemed “appropriate." Your little baby sat in on war meetings, happily chewing on her father’s collar, interrupting the council with happy shrieks or hungry screams. He even took her to the training ground, letting her watch the young soldiers train and practice their swordsmanship.

For Simon, there was no place that she didn’t belong. He has her on his lap while he tears his food apart, relishing in the large plate delivered to him. She also is very enthusiastic, shrieking and trying to take bites from his hands. “No, little one. This is not yours.”

“Bahhh bahh!!” She shrieks in growing frustration, tiny little hands slapping at his chest.

He shakes his head, adjusting her away from the food. “Yelling will not make me give you any. You are spoiled enough."

Your little, furious girl wails, face turning red as she starts to cry, confusion and anger overriding her usually calm demeanor. Her chest heaves as she tries to throw herself backwards in her dramatic display.

"Oh fine, child." Simon huffs and pulls her closer, handing her a piece of cheese that is far too big for someone so small. Her shrieking halts immediately, using her tiny little teeth to bite a chunk off of the wedge. She shakes the cheese up and down in delight, tilting it for you to see as you watch.

"Daddy spoils you again, I see," you joke, smiling at the exchange.

He looks scandalized by the claim, putting a hand to his chest. "What? She is a princess. She must be strong."

"And cheese will make her strong?" Sometimes you swore he said things just to justify gifting her things and spoiling her beyond reason.

He nods with full conviction. "Yes. Besides, she wants it. Best to keep 'er happy."

He lifts the girl so he can look at her chubby little face. He smiles as she takes another bite of her cheese. "She knows good food when she sees it." He plants a kiss on her cheek and adjusts the little bonnet you had put her in. "There we go, princess."

Husband!Price HATES your cat.

To be fair to him, Pickles is evil. There’s no better way to put it. She has an aversion to compassion, fueled purely by hate and rage. If she’s not stalking him around your house, growling and hissing, she is trying to tear up his arms and face.

He’s complained for years about Pickles. You won’t hear any of it. Pickles loves you and only you. She’s your baby and you will not allow him to slander her name.

To you, Pickles is an angel. You’ve had her for years and she’s been nothing but sweet to you. She sleeps on your chest, meows for pets, and makes biscuits on you.

John calls her “The Demon”. Each night once you’re asleep with her on your chest she just stares, growling low in her throat, tail flicking angrily. He’s tried to reason with her. He’ll bring her treats and blink slowly. He read somewhere that that’s supposed to make a cat trust you, but really it just seems to make her more blood thirsty.

Everyday is a battle between them and John is definitely losing.