🕶️🔔 Adler and Bell Appreciation Fanweek 2026 Prompts🕶️🔔
DAY 1: Training (Koa and Bell)
A/N: I just want to say thank you to @ladysouthpaw1213 for tagging me into this WONDERFUL event! I have never participated this for I was always busy! But seeing this had given me the URGE to try! And just to let you guys know, this is mostly about my OC interacting with either Adler or Bell! I am sorry that this is not what you guys are expecting. I just want to share more of my Black Ops OC in this fandom! So, I hope you'll enjoy this!
(P.S. If you guys would like to join! Go ahead and check through here so that you'll know of what to write or draw for ONE of them!)
Words: 2,003
The safehouse in West Berlin echoed with the dull thuds of fists striking padded mats and boots scraping against the mats on the floors.
Most of the team was training.
Across the room, Park stood beside Adler, the two of them bent over a spread of documents and photographs from their last mission. Their voices were low, deliberate — chasing threads that might lead them closer to Perseus. Sims lingered nearby, arms crossed, observing the sparring session with clear reluctance. He had no intention of volunteering to get thrown across the room.
At the center of the makeshift training area stood Lazar and the newest addition to the team — Captain Koa Nikau.
Both men carried themselves with quiet authority. Lazar’s movements were precise, controlled. Koa were grounded and heavy, strength contained beneath discipline. After a brief discussion, they had agreed to run the session together.
Mason and Woods stepped up first.
The two veterans circled each other, exchanging sharp blows and testing reactions. Lazar corrected their footing, adjusting Mason’s stance with a firm tap of his boot. Koa said little, but when he did, his voice was calm and direct — a simple instruction, a subtle adjustment of balance.
They let the pair finish before offering further critique.
And that was when Koa’s attention shifted.
Bell stood near the far wall, half-shadowed by the dim overhead light. Watching. Studying. Not moving.
Observing every strike. Every mistake.
Yet making no move to join.
Koa’s dark eyes lingered a moment longer than necessary.
Hesitation.
Koa had watched Bell in the field before — swift, precise, always quick to deal with threats. He had to admit, he was impressed. But now he was curious to see how Bell performed on the training ground. Slowly, he made his way toward the corner where Bell stood.
Pono, his loyal Belgian Malinois, had been resting nearby. The dog’s ears twitched at the sound of boots against the floor. Instantly alert, Pono lifted his head, eyes tracking his master as he approached Bell. A low, cautious whine escaped him — protective, curious, aware.
Koa stopped a foot away from Bell, letting the silence stretch for a moment. “Feeling alright, Bell?” he asked, calm but firm, letting the question hang in the air.
Bell’s eyes flicked toward the captain, body shifting slightly. Slowly, a nod followed.
“I’m… fine. Just watching, waiting for my turn,” Bell said.
Koa noticed the hesitation behind the calm exterior, the thoughts just beneath the surface. But he didn’t press. Instead of asking more questions, he turned and moved toward an open space away from the others.
“Come. Let’s spar,” he called over his shoulder.
Bell’s head perked up at the words. “W-What?”
Koa kicked off his boots before stepping onto the mat, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Did I stutter? Come on. I’ll spar with you.”
The hesitation lingered, but Bell didn’t refuse. Slowly, they walked over, muscles tense under Koa’s unwavering gaze. Pono, the Belgian Malinois, didn’t miss a single step — alert, protective, watching every movement. Bell felt the dog’s eyes as acutely as Koa’s own.
With a deep breath, Bell kicked off their boots and stepped onto the mat, ready for whatever the captain had in store.
Koa’s dark eyes studied Bell for a beat longer. Then, without another word, he stepped back and dropped into a combat stance — deliberate, controlled, showing exactly how a strong opponent moves.
Bell’s eyes flicked up, hesitation still there, but curiosity sparked. Koa didn’t rush them; instead, he circled slowly, like a predator gauging its prey — or, in this case, a soldier gauging another soldier.
“Show me what you’ve got,” Koa said, calm, measured, but carrying weight. “One move at a time. I want to see precision, not strength.”
Pono let out a soft growl, shifting closer, alert. Bell’s posture stiffened — the dog was reading the tension before the human even moved.
Bell tried the first maneuver — a jab, quick, but Koa easily deflected it. “Too fast,” Koa said, his voice quiet but cutting. “Speed means nothing without control. Again.”
Bell adjusted. Koa’s eyes never left them. Every strike, every hesitation, every small mistake — Koa saw it all. Not to belittle, but to teach, to sharpen.
By the end of the set, Bell was breathing harder, more alert, muscles aching. And Koa? He still looked calm, almost untouchable. But under that calm was respect — subtle, silent, growing. "Come on, Bell. I know you’re better than this. You were great on the battlefield. Why hesitate now?” Koa asked, lowering his arm and giving them a small break.
Bell was out of breath, slowly drawing deep breaths to calm their nerves, rubbing the back of their neck while looking away. “It’s nothing, sir… just thinking about the mission. About Perseus.” Their gaze drifted behind Koa toward Park and Adler, hunched over their documents. “I just… don’t know.”
Koa followed their eyes and noticed Bell was mostly watching Adler. Without a word, he stepped slightly, blocking Bell’s view of the CIA agents, wanting them to focus on the training at hand. “Seems Adler’s been using his… questioning methods on you, huh?”
Bell looked at the captain, unsure how to respond.
Pono stayed alert, watching both of them carefully, muscles tensed but still cautious toward Bell.
Bell exhaled slowly, finally replying. “Sometimes… but I still have to work with him to get to Perseus.”
“Well, you’re not working for him now, are you?” Koa said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re in training. With me. None of that CIA shits right now. You’re with a Captain who’s training you for a better future.”
Bell’s eyes flicked up, slightly surprised by the words. A small spark of attention and focus appeared as Koa continued.
“And if Adler calls you over later, then you can go. But at this moment, you’re working for me. And I want you focused on this right now.” Koa shifted into his fighting stance, grin still in place. “Now… show me what you really can do. No holding back.”
Bell felt a small surge of confidence rising, a fire pushing past the hesitation. They nodded, settling into their own fighting stance, ready.
Pono’s ears perked up from where the dog had been resting. He sensed the shift in the atmosphere — nothing dark, nothing threatening, just… something different between the two.
Even Sims noticed it, gaze flicking toward the mat. “Hey, look at these two,” he called to the others.
Lazar turned his head toward the pair sparring. Woods and Mason followed suit, attention shifting away from their drills to the new dynamic unfolding on the mat.
Koa and Bell circled each other, eyes locked, waiting for the first move.
Bell feinted a jab, testing Koa’s reflexes. Koa blocked easily, but Bell’s movements were sharper, more deliberate than before. A spark of confidence shone in their eyes.
“You’re faster,” Koa murmured, stepping back, letting them push forward.
Bell’s next strike came quicker — a combination of jabs and a low kick. Koa blocked most of them, but one light hook grazed his side. Bell’s chest swelled with pride, a small grin tugging at their lips.
“Better,” Koa said, his tone approving, but his eyes still sharp. Then he leaned slightly closer, a small challenge in his voice: “Alright… try to pin me down. Let’s see what you’ve really got.”
Bell’s focus sharpened. They ducked under Koa’s swing, shifted their weight, and moved with precision. With a smooth, practiced motion, they took advantage of a small opening and managed to pin Koa to the mat.
For a moment, the mat was silent except for their breathing. Bell had done it. They had pinned the captain — a full, undeniable victory in this round of sparring.
Koa pushed himself up, brushing off the mat, and gave a slow, approving nod. “Impressive. You’ve improved… a lot.”
Pono wagged his tail slightly, ears pricked, sensing the shift — this wasn’t just a fight anymore. It was recognition. Bell had earned it.
“FUCK YEAH, BELL! YOU GOT HIM GOOD!” Woods yelled, giving a thumbs-up.
Mason smiled, pride clear. “Good job, Bell.”
“Remind me not to mess with you,” Lazar said with a laugh. “You already defeated Koa — and from half your size!”
Even Sims chuckled. “Thought they called you Hunter for a reason, Cap,” they teased. Koa rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his lips.
“I was just giving them a warm-up,” Koa said.
“Yeah, right! They literally got you down!” Woods laughed, pointing at Koa.
“You want to spar with me next, Woods?” Koa asked, smirking.
“Nah, I already sparred with Mason here,” Woods replied, grinning.
Mason laughed and patted his best friend on the back. Bell just smiled, noticing Pono getting up and padding over to Koa, checking to make sure his master was alright.
Koa crouched to pet his dog. “I’m fine, Pono. Just training.” Then he slowly looked up at Bell. “And… they got me pretty good.”
Bell felt a small surge of pride at the captain’s compliment. “You… want to go another round?”
Koa chuckled, standing and bending slightly forward. “I would, but I think you’ve already broken my back, Bell.”
“That’s because you’re old as FUCK!” Woods called out, grinning at Koa’s annoyed expression.
“I can still kick your ass, Woods. Don’t test me,” Koa replied, voice teasing.
Bell chuckled at the exchange and looked at the captain with a soft, appreciative gaze. “Captain?”
Koa turned toward them. “Yeah?”
“Thank you… for helping me out here. Adler’s been on my case ever since we started working together.”
Koa smiled gently, placing a hand on Bell’s shoulder. “Of course. If you ever need a break from him, just give me a call — I’ll let you pet Pono.”
Bell hesitated, remembering how growly Pono could be, but then felt a gentle nudge on their hand. The dog poked his nose forward, asking for pets. Bell smiled softly and began stroking Pono. Even Koa looked pleasantly surprised.
“No fucking way… how come Bell gets the good treatment and we get the shitty ones?!” Woods exclaimed, only to back off quickly when Pono growled at him — a clear warning to choose his words carefully.
Koa laughed and shrugged. “That’s up to him.”
Sims gave Koa a flat, unimpressed look. “You’ve got a weird dog, Nikau.”
Bell laughed softly, glancing at Koa and then down at Pono, who was now contentedly sitting beside them. For the first time since joining the team, they felt… capable. Confident. Like maybe they could handle whatever Adler threw at them next.
Koa straightened, brushing dust from his uniform. “Alright, everyone. Training’s done for now. But remember — what you learned today, take it with you. Precision beats force. Focus beats hesitation.”
Bell gave a small nod, pride swelling in their chest. The captain’s words weren’t just about the sparring; they felt like guidance for the missions ahead.
Woods clapped them on the shoulder. “Seriously, Bell, don’t let this go to your head… but that was impressive.”
Mason chuckled. “Yeah, you’ve definitely earned your stripes today.”
Lazar laughed, shaking his head. “I might need a rematch myself, just to make sure I’m not rusty.”
Even Sims smirked, though he tried to hide it behind an unimpressed expression. “You did well. Don’t expect this to happen every day.”
Bell gave a small grin, feeling lighter than they had in weeks. And as they looked at Koa, who just gave a small approving nod, they knew one thing for sure: they weren’t just a recruit anymore. Today, they’d earned a little respect… and maybe a little fun along the way too.
Pono let out a soft bark, as if agreeing, nudging Bell’s leg again. Bell laughed, reaching down to pet him once more.
“Next round tomorrow,” Koa said casually, watching the team start tidying up. “Don’t disappoint me.”
Bell just smiled, feeling ready.
And somehow, with the sun streaming through the safehouse windows and the sound of laughter echoing in the room, it felt… like they were finally part of something bigger.
Sims is sick of Adler's shit. This will be their last night together, he swears.
Sims sighed, closing his eyes as Adler cuddled up to his side. He just wanted space for half a minute, but Adler had already tossed his arms around his middle, hooked his right leg over Sims’ left, and tucked his head up on Sims’ shoulder, his soft breaths warming Sims’ collar bone.
Sims’d sworn that he’d never end up here again; sweating in a bed not big enough for two, dick messy with the come that hadn’t stayed in Adler’s ass, with the man himself wrapped in his arms, as Sims instinctively curled his arm around Adler’s shoulders, for lack of choice on what to do with them.
He’d sworn it every time, and yet, he always seemed to end up back here. Damn him and his big heart, clinging to the sliver of hope that one day Adler would throw all the clandestine shit away for something on the straight and narrow, or retirement, or just literally anything other than all the cloak and dagger stuff. Sims knew the truth really, that even if Adler was capable of doing it, he wouldn’t. The hope was more of a principle at this point. Who would Sims be if he started to believe that his friends could be completely lost causes?
Snippets like these, drunken nights off fun slept off in Sims arms, was the closest to normalcy or domesticity that Adler was ever going to indulge in again. He wasn’t going to waste his time at giving it another go ‘properly’, not after the wreck that had been his divorce.
Sims couldn’t exactly fault him for that. He’d been a distant outsider to Adler’s marriage troubles, but he’d seen enough to know that refusing to settle down as a more than fair reaction from Adler; and it wasn’t like Sims had ever settled down either.
He’d had a girl, once. A long time ago, before she’d cut him off with a three-line letter while he’d been in Vietnam. It wasn’t long after he’d got that, that he and Adler had slept together the first time.
They’d pooled their money together to buy as much alcohol as they could afford, both drunk more than was perhaps reasonable, stumbled back together, barely succeeding in getting into their barracks without getting caught by the officers on duty. The barracks were even empty, so they could stumble around drunkenly without worries of snitches getting on them. Everything had gone completely according to plan, until Adler had fallen into Sims’ cot with him, and kissed him.
Sims hadn’t even thought about pushing him away. When he did let his hair down, Adler was really good fun. He had been back then, and he still was now. It was like a switch with him, flipping between being on and off duty.
Sims liked him off duty. Adler joked, played around, flaunted what he’d got, because Adler was hot and he knew it. Though, for the men around them, it was aspirational, rather than admiration or attraction.
Their first time had been heated, rushed and messy, with them doing little more than jerking each other off, as even intoxicated, they knew it would be very bad idea for them to get caught like this. When they’d finished, Adler had kissed him again, and staggered back to his own cot, and managed to collapse into it, rather than on the floor, as Sims quickly changed his trousers.
Good thing too, as some of the others had arrived back not long after, just as Sims was tossing a blanket over Adler. The other guys were a little tipsy too, and wanted to know what was up with him, and Sims had herded them away, declaring to the rest of the room that ‘pretty boy was a lightweight’ and needed to sleep it all off.
Adler had almost killed him the next morning, when it got back to him why everyone was greeting him as ‘pretty boy.’
It was the one and only time Sims had ever caught Adler off guard, when he’d grabbed Adler’s collar and pulled him close to whisper that, ‘well, he’d looked pretty last night.’
That had shut Adler up, and let Sims go about his day, lightly fantasising about what his life with Adler could have been like, if they hadn’t both been men.
It would never work, even if we were doing it over today,Sims thought. Reagan’s lack of action during the AIDS crisis and the rampant hatred that had spread across America with it had seen to that. It would have to be a different world, a different universe, for him and Adler to be together, openly, like a normal couple.
And, that wasn’t even taking into consideration how bad Adler was with relationships.
Adler sighed and tried to roll over. Sims held him tighter to stop him falling onto the floor.
He was going to make it clear this time, that while he might renege on his threat to stop providing Adler with military support if he was ordered to, this was the last time he and Adler would be together like this.
There would be no more indulging in Adler fishing for compliments, no more late-night catch ups fuelled by alcohol, no more innocent kisses that ended up with Adler resting in Sims’ bed. No more friendship, no sex, no relationship beyond their official capacities.
Sims sat up on his elbow, scooped up his glass of whiskey and drained down the watery liquor. The melted ice improved it, if anything. Adler insisted on only having the expensive stuff, but Sims had never been much of a whiskey drinker, so to him is all tasted the same: kind of like shit.
“Oi…” Adler poked his abs. “Don’t drink too much. You won’t be able to get it back up otherwise.”
Sims chuckled harshly, which Adler seemed to miss, closing his eyes as he lay back down, as Adler’s fingers trailed over his pecs. In the morning, he’d put an end to all of it, for good.
Warnings/Tags: Mature Rating, Graphic Violence, Dark Themes, Trauma, Body Horror, Gore, Major Character Death, Brainwashing, Post!Cuba, Pre!Solovetsky, No Solovetsky, Female Bell, Older Man/Younger Woman
Words: 1.6k
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You were observing for days.
Picking apart the papers, the plans, the tools they have at their disposal with Sims. Hawkish tired baggy eyes, always seeming to stray at the itch of your skin that is getting irritated from your nails than anything else. No other outside source. (Nightmare.)
It was hard for the others to cajole you out the cage you built around you, the storage room with the arcade game you used to play with but now is stock still.
Dead. A waste of energy.
(Why are you here again? Ah. Solovetsky. Always about going to Solovetsky. That’s all they need of you. They aren’t your friends. He’s not your friend.)
You even locked yourself in. To keep them out. To keep you in. Concentration. Watching. Planning. Eying.
You had a fire to your ass and this time it wasn’t Adler that caused it, (his hands around your jaw or your throat, squeezing your cheeks together unforgivingly or pressing down warningly to your carotid and air supply, Bell, open the door. He said good work. ) but instead it was your head, your thoughts, the feeling of blood pumping to your ears and grim determination clenching your jaw and hands around the pens and pencils and office supplies you have hoarded in this cage you made yourself.
You ignored how Woods cursed at you and your behavior, but your eyes couldn’t help but study his deep blue. The ocean normally with its high tides to make up for the hurricane of a man, only for it to be swimming in concern and worry on what is causing this frantic episode of yours.
The tornado of a man cursed at you with no intent, looking haggard with tired shoulders as if he was there in the cage with you. Only for them to tense when Adler, who is ice and cool and hard to read and what is that look in his eyes when he stares past your cage and into your face, tells Woods to leave you be, to let you plan the finishing touches needed for the cell tower and you will come out when you decide to.
“Stop babying her.”
“Wha—you conniving fucker,” the hurricane spat at the arctic breeze, dangerous and unbelieving wild grin upon his face. “You ordered her to do this. You think I’m going to let you dig around your dirty shitty claws around her brain again? You used the trigger phrase, didn’t you? Didn’t you?!”
(You talked to Woods once, that the trigger would still probably work. The lot of you have no time to deprogram a terrorist. You were concerned, worrying your lip and how easy it would be to become a mindless puppet again. Frank, all grim faced, only tugged you to him with your eyes widening as you met the gear covered chest. Safe . Secure . The immovable mountain and the chaotic hurricane turned firm like a rooted tree that shall never bend. Can you make a home here in these roots? Is he letting you? And a rumble to your ear “You don’t have to worry your pretty little head about that. No one will say that sentence again. Until we get you back to Washington and we’ll fix you up, you’ll be able to say the words yourself as easy as you can decode.”)
Face to face.
The storm and ice.
And, despite you wanting to see Frank punch the ever living lights out of Adler again, you stepped out the cage and intervened with a gentle yet firm hand to Woods shoulder before Mason or Sims could, back to Adler who you can feel his eyes on you.
When he glanced down in bewilderment, he met your grateful little smile playing on your lips and a shake of your head.
“It’s okay. He didn’t do any of that. I wanted to.” Woods didn’t seem to believe you, and your hand wandered from his shoulder to his wrist to do a squeeze of his hand. Woods blinked, eyes on the hold before meeting your somber ones. “We need this plan. Adler is right on the importance of this. We need that cell tower. Him and I gotta do this right with all of you. To plan with all of you. ”
Woods face began to sour right when you mentioned Adler. Glancing up to where Adler was only to sour more.
He tugged his hand away and turned his back on you. You tried to not let it affect you. (He always touches you and accepts yours like you accept his. He’s not distant.)
“Yeah, yeah. I got it. Just don’t…” his tone lost his gumption when he turned his face back towards you. You can spot his swallow before he waved a hand flippantly, (not the hand you touched. The hand you touched is tucked in his jacket pocket. Like a secret.) before he made a dramatic puff of air out his mouth. “Just don’t fall over dead or electrocute your brain over there.”
The joke fell flat, your brows pinched in concern and your back still itched with eyes on you.
You turned, almost missing the smug smirk Adler had around his cigarette but not missing his upturned brow when he looked at you.
He dipped his head in a semblance of a nod, nicotine smoke around them both as he breathed, “Don’t let him keep treating you like glass. You’re not made of it.”
And off he went, whisking away to his corner of the safehouse.
Your jaw clenched when his scent and presence left you, irritation building at the pretense(How would he know how you wanted to be treated? He doesn’t know you. You used to lick up those small nods as if they were ambrosia, his pride towards you like nectar. He broke you. He can’t tell you what to do.) before you went back to your cage.
Later, after your three day planning confinement, with you and Park atop a nearby building of the cell tower to study the zombie horde and the strange crystals that keep appearing like never ending amethysts, you were questioned by the MI6 agent.
Or what may be left of the MI6.
“Is Woods a wise choice, Bell?”
The question came from left field(Woods taught you that saying) and it made you take off your binoculars, your face twisted into deep befuddlement.
“What?”
Park’s face didn’t change, it was the expression where she expected no nonsense. Her attention on you and not the sniper rifle who has an impressive scope and what she should be using to watch.
“Don’t play the oblivious card, Bell. It doesn’t suit you.”
You were starting to get annoyed at the non answers. (You hate non answers. Hums that don’t mean anything or everything. You’re sick of it.)
“What are you talking about?”
Park huffed.
“This dance you’re doing with Woods. Is it genuine? Or are you trying to get back at Adler?”
Your eyes flashed, your grip on your binoculars tightening.
That’s all it goes back to. Your genuineness.
(Stop lying, Bell. Start again and tell me how you met Perseus.)
“Frank and I are genuinely friends. Just like me and Mason are.” Park’s brows pinched together and you really want to shout at her but you stick with a hissed “What?” instead.
“You’re getting that look in your eyes when you look at Woods. And don’t think we can’t all see how touchy you two are with each other. Especially with what happened earlier.” (You touched Woods hand, yours were gloved. But you still felt it. How warm he can be. The curious inquisitive side of you wanted to know what would happen if your hand was bare, what would the valley of his knuckles feel like? Would it match the mountain of a man?) “Woods is…” Park cleared her throat. “Woods is showing deep care for you. But the last thing we need is something to split the team apart. So. Is it genuine?”
You bit the inside of your cheek, looking through the binoculars again to dismiss her.
“Didn’t you say to give a certain man a wide berth?”
“And I’m glad for you for it. But Bell,” a hand moved stops yours, shifting the binoculars down and you were met with concerned gray eyes, a soft voice. “. . .Adler is the type of man who has a hard time giving over control. Can you honestly say you won’t fall upon his hands again if he asked?”
“Adler,” you spat, fury and rage and vindictive and hot on your chest. It made Park’s eyes widen, which made you blink and deflate and appear like the kicked bunny that you are instead of what you were before. “. . . I know what kind of man Adler is. But. . . Woods is. . . Frank is. . . ” You clenched your teeth, bowed your head. “I. . . don’t want to hurt him. . . He’s been. He’s been kind to me. He makes me laugh.”
Park’s eyes gave you a once over, assessing and scrutinizing before you felt a hand atop your shoulder. A gentle squeeze. You looked up and spotted gentle eyes to match before she focused back on her sniper and looking through it.
“It seems we may have similar taste in men, Bell.”
You glanced at her in pity.
Lazar always found a way to make her laugh.
If they achieve this, create the line again for Washington—to Weaver—than perhaps Park can find someone again.
You and Adler’s plan can’t fail.
(Adler’s protege will make a way.)
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…hahahahahaha… hi?
I’m back in the writing pit of this universe! Thank you to @makeyourpeacenow and @junkyardhound with their wondrous works in AO3 I recently discovered thanks to me trying to scour for Adler x Bell fics again. And that inspired me. And for the BO6 trailer. Where I’m back to wanting the Officially Wanted Man Russell Adler.
May this fire not die until this fic is at least completed. And than maybe I can hop back into my other Adler x Bell fic.
Alright so… this a lot different of a post than I’d usually make. But the summer of 2024 during an absolutely horrendous depressive episode, I started a roleplay that went on consistently for around 6 months.
The roleplay was between Simon Riley and a (sort of) OC I have, that I typically use for self inserts.
Throughout this roleplay Ghost and my OC had gotten married and had a family. (I was coping)
I really wanted to share them on here but I’m not confident enough in my drawing abilities. So, I resorted to making them in The Sims. So here they are hope someone likes this 🤷
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley
Both masked and unmasked. He is modeled after both the reboot voice actor Samuel Roukin and the 2010 comic depiction of Ghost. (Tattoos and mask are both CC that was created to be accurate to Ghosts original model)
At this point in the roleplay Ghost is around 45 years old having retired to desk duties for the 141 a few years after the birth of his youngest son.
Nicole Riley (My OC)
(Pretty much me… but not? Hope that makes sense.)
Nicole Riley, formerly Nicole Massey, is currently about 37 years old having a 9 year age gap with Simon. She is a freelance writer and stay at home mother to their many children.
Simon and Nicole met through mutual friend Soap McTavish when Soap had invited Simon to the bar with him in celebration of Nicole’s birthday. They married shortly after discovering Nicole’s pregnancy with their first child.
Elizabeth Joseph Riley or ‘Lizzy’
Named after Simon’s late Sister-in-law (Beth) and Nephew (Joseph). Lizzy is a sweet, loyal, and outgoing 14 year old who loves all things pink. (The purple shoes are absolutely significant)
She is the oldest and first born of the couple’s biological children. Lizzy takes after her uncle Soap in personality and her mother in looks.
Johnathan and Thomas Riley or ‘Johnny’ and ‘Tommy’
Twins Johnny and Tommy, 12 years old, are both named after significant figures in Simon’s life.
Jonathan (left) being a combination name of Price and Soap. Is an active and socially inclined kid who loves sports and being outside.
Tommy (right), named after Simon’s late older brother, is the more reserved and quiet of the two with a more logical and academic mind. Taking much more after his father with his observational demeanor and loyalty.
Unfortunately, as the role-play followed the events of the MW3 reboot, Soap passed shortly after the birth of the twins leaving Johnny and Tommy the last of the Riley children to meet their uncle Soap.
Oliver Kyle Riley or ‘Olly’ and ‘Tav’
Olly is the youngest of the couples biological Children, named after his uncle Gaz. He is now 6 years old and a very bright and independent young boy.
Shortly after Olly’s birth a furry friend was added to the Riley family. Tav (MacTavish) is a 4 year old black, female German shepherd, named in honor of Soap, and trained to protect the family. She is a well behaved and adventurous dog who does well to keep the kids safe.
Samantha and Elouise Moore or ‘Sam’ and ‘Ella’
Sam and Ella are the most recent additions to the Riley family. Two sisters taken in and fostered by the Couple.
Sam is a troubled 16 year old girl who’s independent and fiercely protective of her younger sister Ella. Much like a younger Simon, Sam does not trust easy and prefers her solitude.
Ella on the other hand is a cheerful and affectionate 8 year old girl. She is very loving and gets along well with others but, does tend to be more on the shy side. She effortlessly fit into her new foster family as if they were her own and was quick to bond with Nicole.
**
This is a very short summarization of the story line and characters. There is so much more to it and many other side characters as well.
i.e. Alejandro and Valeria and their 3 children. Or Gaz, his wife and their daughter. 🤭🤭
I worked hard on this and was super excited to share. Hopefully someone finds it interesting or whatever. If you’d like to know more let me know and if you read this far thank you!!! you’re a real one 🙏😊
#project hail mary
#cats of tumblr
#lana del rey
