greblogsx

Main; thewriterg

[greblogsx]

𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬𝐱

🎸 This is just my re-blogging page where i reblog any and everything and acknowledge all the love I get which thank you for writers <33

🕷️ My main is; @thewriterg

🎸 That’s where you can find all my fics and such!

🕷️ about me | all pronouns but I’m a girl

[sweet-as-an-angel]

House Husband! Simon who…

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Sexual Punishment (Consensual), Degrading, Edging, Simon Exhibiting Some Himbo Tendencies, Objectification of a Military Man, Implied Pegging, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

Lets you take the stresses of your day out on him, riding him with such fervour that he’s left digging his heels into the mattress of your shared bed, gritting his teeth and trying not to let the coil in his stomach snap before you’ve gotten yourself off.

Secretly loves being berated, being called your “Stupid boy, only good for cooking and cleaning. Such a good husband for me.”

Loves when you spoil him with the lavish gifts you can afford with your high-paying job. “A reward for keeping the house so tidy while I’m away.” You say as you take the cologne bottle in your hand and pull the waistband of his boxers with the other, slipping the bottle past before letting the band snap against his skin. You make sure to give his ass a good smack on your way past, too.

Another symbol of your ownership of him to complement the wedding band you’ve bound him with.

He’ll bend himself backwards to please you, learning to cook anything that takes your fancy, giving you massages when you need them, using his height and strength to clean the house thoroughly, pulling out all the furniture and making sure the place is spotless.

Though, he’d never admit that he sometimes leaves certain things — laundry, dishes, whatever — unfinished so you’ll punish him when you come home.

Loves when you edge him, using him for your own pleasure while preventing him from feeling the fullest extent of his. He lives for the tears in your eyes when you cum for the third time, rocking yourself on his thick cock as he holds you by the hips, desperately trying not to rut into you and give you another reason to stave off his orgasm.

When you think he’s earned it, you’ll make sure he really feels it. Squeezing around him with such ferocity that has him seeing stars when he finally does unravel, thick ropes of cum shooting into you as his back arches, his low, strangled moans filling your home. He’ll pant heavily, trying to gather his bearings as you detach from him, thin strings of cum trying desperately to keep the two of you connected.

He shudders at the tone in your voice when you throw a towel and a pair of pants at him, telling him to clean himself up and go and make dinner.

“I expect it done within the hour. I’m starving.”

Needless to say, he considers burning it a little to incur your wrath once more. But he knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that that parcel you ordered the other day did look rather long. Thin, too. Almost dick-shaped.

He’s taken a peek. He knows he shouldn’t have, but now he knows he mustn’t – under any circumstances – get on the wrong side of your strap-on. Especially one so girthy and long; big enough to even wind Simon if when you slammed into him with it.

But that’s a punishment for another day.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad Tumblr Backup Account

[greblogsx]

YOU ATE THAT SCRUM DILLY YUM YUM‼️

[bluegiragi]

holding back (part 2)

early access + nsfw on patreon

[greblogsx]

GIVING YOU ALL YOUR FLOWERS 😫🙏🏽🙏🏽

(how mad would you all be if I wrote a new series based off this 😖)

[osteohack]

Art: General Relationship Headcanons

Content: All sfw

Art is very humorous and utilises that a lot in your relationship. Most of his jokes will be light hearted for you if he can tell that you’re not responding well to his other, darker jokes. If you are someone who enjoys very dark, somewhat sick comedy then he’s more than willingly to let some pass. He’d also enjoy the jokes that you tell as well; communicating in his own way that he finds them funny (e.g., putting his hand over his mouth and pretending to giggle like a school girl).

He isn’t one for cuddling, but if you begged him, he might be willing to lay down and let you hold him. He’d be restless and constantly moving, especially if you whine about it. He’d think it’s funny.

If you lived in the same space, you’d have to be prepared to clean up after him a lot. Not only the mess he’d drag into the area after his activities, but also just in general. Art definitely isn’t a clean person and doesn’t really care to be.

In terms of affection, he’d be attentive in his own weird way. Art is sneaky, very quiet, and has good hearing. He’d always know where you are and would use this to scare you. Peeking around corners, honking right next to your ear. It’s his version of quality time. Of course, he has more conventional mannerisms as well, like neck kisses, little bites, and bringing you gifts that he finds (e.g., jewellery from victims). He’ll show affection in his own way, but he can be mindful of more normal methods.

He’s shameless. He doesn’t really obey boundaries. You would have to be really clear in what you do and don’t want, but don’t count on him listening.

[greblogsx]

Art is so Deadpool coded to me 🤭

[mockerycrow]

HELLO the biggest congrats on 4k, you absolutely deserve that and so many more!!!

Could I see a female!reader x Ghost with the prompt:“I had a nightmare . . . can I stay with you tonight?”

TY and yet again, congratulations 🤍🤍🤍

REASSURANCE (Ghost x Fem!Reader) — 4K CELEBRATION

authors note; thank you so much anon <3 i hope you enjoy!

[WARNINGS; not proofread (like most of my fics), silent panic attack + light dissociation, implied you’ve never seen his face, hurt/comfort.]

You know Ghost has nightmares—everyone knows Ghost has nightmares. No one really wants to talk about it because he doesn’t, but everyone has seen the man up at ungodly hours of the night, or perhaps beating the absolute shit out of a punching bag at the on-base gym.

No one except for Price knows what Ghost’s been through, but no one really questions him. It’s unrealistic to think Ghost is the only one waking up due to their dreams—even Price does on the occasion. What Ghost doesn’t do is ask for help.

You had a weird gut feeling about tonight; you weren’t really restless, but you weren’t tired. Every time you laid down to try to get some sleep, your eyelids would slowly open back up. You tried multiple methods; white noise, thinking about nothing, thinking about a story, taking a sleep remedy—nothing.

You had a weird tightness in your stomach that you couldn’t shake. It’s no big deal, you’ve had several nights like this. Nights where you stay up, half expecting something to happen. You aren’t sure if its the military-esque anxiety flaring up, expecting an attack of some sort or if it’s just one of those nights.

You’re laying in bed, trying to think of what you have to do tomorrow. Might as well try to think of something useful, right? Let’s see, you have to do morning training and then you have to eat, brief with price, it’s your turn to help the armourer—the weapons master, you like to say to piss them off—and you also have to do paperwork.

A very tame evening, you think, avoiding the Q word everyone oh so desperately hates; including yourself. Because the second you say it, you’re going to be called by Laswell, or General Shepherd, or some other CIA federal agent bureaucrat about some fucking thing that’s happening in the god forsaken world that only, and only task force 141 can handle—

—Someone knocks on your door, breaking your disorganized thoughts. Your eyebrows furrow; no one should be up, maybe Price is, or Ghost. Did you forget some paperwork? You sit up, slip your slides on your feet, and you walk to the door. You unlock the door and open it, wincing from the bright light of the hallway pouring in, and you’re met with the large figure of Ghost.

You blink, unsurprised. “Hey.” You utter. “Did I wake you?” God, Ghost sounds rough. It sounds like he garbled glass—er, maybe that isn’t the nicest way to describe one of your superiors voices right now. It’s clear he just woke up. You shake your head in response, stepping aside. “Here, come in. It’s bright.”

Ghost silently obeys, stepping inside of your room. You close the door and head over to your desk. You feel around in the darkness until you feel your lamp and you click a button, turning it on, illuminating the room just enough for you to see Ghost. He’s wearing a pair of dark grey sweatpants with one of his black, long-sleeve compression tops to go with it.

He’s wearing a basic black balaclava without the iconic skull, but.. His eyes are different. Distant and weary, cautious—panicked almost. Your eyebrows furrow together as his broad shoulders are tense, fists clenched.

“Ghost..” You call softly. He seems far away—he needs your help. “Ghost.” You say more insistently and louder, noticing the way his chest is barely moving. “Ghost, hey, can y’hear me? You need to take a breath..” You murmur, slowly approaching him.

He’s frozen but you see how his eyes flicker towards you, taking a moment realize where he is. You offer a soft smile you always show him and you nod. “There you are, big guy. Can I touch you?” You make sure to ask because you never know; a soldier during a flashback, touching them? That can be fatal—you trust Ghost as you don’t think he would ever hurt you, but you never know a person.

It takes him a moment to nod, which makes you promptly and gently grab his wrists. You gently guide him to your bed, and you sit him down. You’re nervous—you’re about to calm him down in one of the only ways you know how to, but you’re worried about the consequences you’ll receive afterwards. Oh well, you don’t care, not when Ghost’s eyes are as unfocused as they are.

The bed dips under his weight and you gently spread his legs, standing between them. You grab his arms; they’re deadweight, but his eyes flicker some recognition, allowing you to guide his arms around your waist. You guide his head to lay against your stomach, your hands cradling his masked jaw and the back of his neck.

Ghost takes in a harsh, shuddery breath which makes you hum in approval. “There you go, Ghost. Breathe, you’re alright.” You say in a mellow manner, your thumb brushing over his masked cheek. Ghost takes in another harsh breath as his arms tighten around you. You continue to try to ground him, talking and praising him for his efforts to stay calm. You know he isn’t in the right mind, but you’re still shocked he’s allowed you to touch him for as long as you have.

Something in your gut unravels as Ghost pulls his head away ever so slightly, ripping his mask off and throws it away like it was constricting his breathing. He buries the side of his face back into your stomach, taking you by surprise. Your met with his blonde hair in the low light, your heart stuttering.

You hesitate only for a moment before you bury a hand in his hair on the back of his head, your other hand returning to his jaw, your heart hammering as you note he has stubble as well as something on his skin, like deep scar tissue.

Ghost lets out a noise which you quickly hum in response. “It’s okay, let it out.. Won’t tell anyone about this, okay?” You assure him, causing another noise to escape him, almost like a laugh. “Kinda hard t’do that when a pretty girl is comfortin’ you.” He croaks, his voice broken—both his voice and sentence making your brain short circuit. You laugh in return, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Shush,” You murmur. “Just relax.”

Ghost nods against your stomach, shakily exhaling. You stay like that for a while; neither of you are sure for how long, and neither of you care. You’re enjoying the rare vulnerability Ghost is displaying, and he’s enjoying the grounding touch you’re currently providing him. The silence is comforting as you comb your fingers through his hair, and you enjoy the weight of his head and his arms.

“I had a nightmare…” Ghost utters. You hold your breath as he looks up at you, and oh god, he’s hot. “..Can I stay with you tonight?” You’re mesmerized by the way his nose is curved—clearly has been broken a couple of times and wasn’t reset right—by the way his eyebrows are furrowed, his big, beautiful brown eyes.. You nearly forget to respond. “Yes,” You push out, resisting the urge to reach up and rub the tension between his brows. “Always.”

[groguspicklejar-deactivated2025]

part 5 of zombie!ghost

you don't know whether to be relieved or horrified.

first, you're immune to the infection and now zombies don't attack you. you look human. you feel human. what gives?

the wound on your hand has healed. you don't feel any different than you have before you were bitten. it was weird enough that Ghost, although infected, was sentient in a way and it would make sense that he'd walk among the infected because his body closely resembles that of one. but not you.

your flesh was still warm. heart still beats, lungs still need air and your blood was still as red as any normal human being.

you wave a hand in front of one zombie. no reaction. the undead man keeps walking. when you yelled at the top of your voice, you caused a bit of a stir. but the zombies that you had attracted only seemed to move around you, looking for the human that was in their territory, brushing past you as if you weren't the one who caused the ruckus.

"huh." you mused, glancing at Ghost. "weird."

but since this technically means you were in no real danger, you smiled and thought of something.

"hey, Ghost." he looked at you. "ever been on a shopping spree?"

you think a wave of terror might have flashed in his mirky eyes.

there's a certain freedom that comes with being immune to a plague that ended the world. first, the most sensible thing to do was find the nearest weapons store and stock up on those, as well as other supplies.

then the fun began.

you had a blast touring through the city. all the pretty stores that you never got to visit were now open to you and Ghost. you tried on designer clothes that you never would've otherwise looked at, let alone even afforded.

"how do i look?" you twirled around in the flow dress, admiring your new look in the mirrors. Ghost grunted and looked away. you pouted and picked the other hanger. "okay, fine. i like this one better."

dresses weren't really ideal in this new norm. so you settled for a pair of new pants and a shirt. Ghost got a new helmet and a mask to hold him his broken jaw. surprisingly enough, he didn't mind the pink mask. you even put a pair of heart sunglasses on him to accessorise his new look.

"oh, those glasses look nice." you cupped his face before picking up the Polaroid camera you swiped from the electronic store. "how about we document this moment? say cheese!"

you took so many pictures, that you needed one of the albums to file them all. you hugged it to your chest with a big smile. "I'm going to treasure these with my life."

Ghost might not be the man he once was. he might not speak or react the way you'd want him to, but his presence alone was enough to keep you going. he's always kept you going.

you were glad he was there when you were bitten. you don't know how you ever could've gotten through that ordeal by yourself. you don't know how he got through it alone and you wished you could've been there for him.

if anything about this adventure means something to him as much as it does to you, you hope he'll remember it if somehow you part ways for good.

he's startled by your sharp gasp and rushes to your side, drawing his gun to eliminate any threat. but there was none.

"ice cream!" you pointed to the parlour and took his hand and dragged him inside. the display was trashed and a complete mess, which was to be expected. but you went around the back. "look, the fridge is still on! you don't think-"

you opened the fridge and squealed. "it hasn't melted!"

Ghost watched your face brighten with absolute joy as you found boxes of unopened ice cream cones and scooped up mountains of the cold desert. something in his chest warmed as he observed you.

he's never seen you this happy in a long time. the only reason he even let you put on anything pink on him is to see you smile. he doesn't think he could've denied you anything when your eyes shine like that.

"it's so good." you hummed gleefully and handed him your cone. "Ghost, you need to try this!"

eventually, you and Ghost wandered into the zoo. some of the animals were still there. mostly herbivores that survived on the vegetation nearby. both of you stayed a good distance away from them as you admired them.

then you gasp at a new sight. the python exhibit.

"think they're still in there?" you asked as you walked closer to it. "c'mon, let's find out."

only, you don't realize that he stopped following you until you went past the sign. you looked behind you to find him standing a few yards away. "Ghost?"

not a sound comes out of him. he only stares at the sign with an expression you've never seen before.

you pulled at his arm but he won't budge. "hey, come on. let's go see."

a low groan is all you get from him. he won't move. in fact, he takes a few steps back. you stare at him, shocked.

this is new. he's never not followed you anywhere.

"Simon?" he looks away from you when you step closer to him, trying to read him. you eyes widen when you came to a realization.

he's... scared.

you glance at the sign. python exhibit. snakes. is that why he won't go in there? as fearless as he's always been, you don't think anything could've frightened him.

"oh... you don't like snakes?" he shakes his head. your shoulders drop. damn, you really hoped to see a python, but if he won't go, then you won't either. "that's okay. we'll check out the other exhibits instead."

you took his hand and started pulling him elsewhere. it's unclear if this was just your imagination or not, but you think he squeezed your hand.

you and Ghost kept going, pushing forward and exploring more of the zoo. some of the animals were still there, even though the cages were open. some exhibits were empty. and some weren't.

you didn't dare to take a look at the skeletons of the animals that had starved to death. most were carnivores. poor things.

as usual, you chattered away while your undead sentinel followed closely behind. in some moments, you think he might actually be listening as you spoke to yourself, but you can't be sure and you don't dare to ask him.

unbeknown to both of you, some of the cameras were still active. and someone was watching.

Cure For Me Masterlist offer a coin to the picklejar this initially started as a drabble to push back against the angst surrounding zombie!ghost but I've been having some thoughts aaand i might turn this into a full fic. banners by @cafekitsune

[greblogsx]

Petition to kill Simons flop of a father 😡 I love baby boy though

[peachesofteal]

Dead Disco / Chapter 9

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 3.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ mdni no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Nightmares, comfort, relationship issues and dynamics, established throuple. Emotional distress. Mention of medication. Angst. Darling is her/your own warning/tag. Eating related issues. Flashback heavy. Simon and Darling heavy. Simon struggles with the aftermath of his words.

Simon is having trouble keeping his eyes on the road.

He keeps looking in the rear-view mirror, holding his breath, hoping you’ll say something, answer one of Johnny’s questions, or look back at him for a second, even though the seconds tick away, and none of that happens. You keep your face pointed away from them, streetlights and headlights reflecting across your face, illuminating your grief filled gaze that’s transfixed on the world outside the window.

You’re far out of his reach now. Farther then when they came home and discovered you had left, farther then when he saw you in the doorway of your hotel room, exhausted, confused, free falling.

He had a good grip in those moments. Had a firm hand on the situation, could still read you, anticipate you, understand what was needed.

Now, he can feel that grip, that control, slipping away.

He clears his throat.

“Darling? Are you hungry, do you want to stop for something?” You don’t answer, still facing out the window, mind somewhere else, and Johnny shifts uneasily in the passenger seat, the spot you refused even though it’s your preference.

His phone vibrates in the center console, pulling his focus to where the screen is lit with a text from Price.

Let me know what you’re going to do. You’ve got more than enough leave saved. 

His stomach twists.

Simon jolts, trying to piece together where he is, where Johnny is, what’s happening, muscles instinctively tensing, legs and arms shifting his body into a weapon, something that can be used to defend, to fight-

He’s in his own bed. He’s in his own bed, at home, with Johnny...

and you. 

You’re shaking in your sleep, practically rattling between their bodies, face scrunched up in terror, panicked whimpers breaking from your throat. He recognizes it immediately, similar symptoms of the same affliction that sometimes plagues both himself and Johnny. 

You’re having a nightmare. 

His eyes adjust, taking in the dark of the room, the leak of light from the hall just barely illuminating the curve of your hip, Johnny’s chest and messy mohawk. 

Johnny had wanted you to stay the night so badly. Simon did too, but he didn’t want to push you as hard as Johnny was willing to, more agreeable to let you lead, let you decide what you did or did not want to do. 

But Johnny was so sweet on you, with you, convincing you to stay over even though in the past, you had been adamantly against it. 

Is this why? 

He scrounges in the dark for his mask, the black cotton one that he’s been wearing around you, sliding it over his face, loops behind his ears, before he hesitantly reaches towards your shivering form. 

“Darling.” He murmurs, bringing himself closer, boxing you in with his chest. If you have a bad reaction when you wake, he needs to be able to grab you, hold onto you. Keep you from hurting Johnny. “Shhh, hey, you’re alright.” He rubs your upper arm, firm pressure enough to keep you mostly still, leaning closer to say your name a few times, gently trying to rouse you without making it worse. He knows how it feels to come abruptly out of a nightmare, how it feels to wake up confused, frightened, unsure if you’re still dreaming, or still trapped in your own mind’s torment. 

He shakes you carefully, holding your shoulders firm, listening to your gasps turn into stronger breaths, your eyes flickering behind closed lids until they’re slowly peeling open, half clouded with sleep.   

“Ngh-“ you groan, blinking up at him, disorientated. You instantly tense, flinching away, and he keeps himself still, letting you come to consciousness slowly. 

“Shhh. You’re safe. It’s alright.” Your brow furrows, like you’re trying to piece together what’s happening, and he keeps his voice low, soothing. “You’re with us, at our flat. You stayed the night, remember?” He’s still rubbing your arm, working the contact, the connection, into your skin, trying to jog your hazy memories, keep you present. 

Realization snaps across your face, fear melting away into something else, something he knows well. 

Shame, and panic. 

“Oh my god.” You whisper, turning to look at Johnny. 

“Don’t worry, he’s a heavy sleeper, he-“ 

“I’m so sorry.” You blurt, sitting up, slipping yourself out from under his arm. “Did I- did I wake you? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. We’re no strangers to nightmares either.” He tries to calm you, ease you with the lighthearted comment. You shake your head, pausing, and then manage to slide down the bed, swinging your legs over the side to sit up. 

“I shouldn’t have… I- I shouldn’t be here.” You take short breaths, and he reaches for you, hand hovering over your shoulder. Johnny taught him that touch can be comfort after a nightmare, a lesson learned over too many nights spent waking in terror, choking on the feeling of dirt clogging his windpipe.  “I’m sorry. I didn’t- I-“ you trail off as you stand, stepping away from the bed, hands gripping each other, clenched together. 

“Darling, hey.” He follows, stepping closer into your space, your eyes wild and darting all over the room. Johnny mumbles behind him, and you wince, your mind working in overdrive, guilt and worry and fear trying to take over, drown you, work you up until it convinces you to run out the door. 

Something tugs at Simon. Something strong, heavy with emotion, with feeling, pulls at him, dragging him towards an inevitability, one that he’s been able to see coming since the first night they took you home, and he’s not going to let whatever is going on in your head right now take you away from them. Not when they've just found you. Not when he knows there could be so much more. 

“Look at me.” He drops his tone, sinking into the authoritative edge, the one you’ve responded so well to during sex. He’s pushing boundaries, pushing into unexplored territory, but he needs to control this situation before it destabilizes you, and he knows, instinctively, that he can reach you. If he tries. “Everything’s alright now, you’re okay.” He pulls your hands into his, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of your knuckles, your head tipped back to stare at him, vulnerable as he’s ever seen. “There’s nothing to apologize for, you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“What’s goin’ on-“ Johnny grunts, twisting in the bed to find where Simon is standing with you in the dark. He immediately goes on alert, back straightening, scanning the room for what’s happened, if there’s danger, if there’s a problem.

“It’s okay, she just had a nightmare.” Simon doesn’t take his eyes off you, your hands squeezing his like you’re afraid he might disappear. “She’s a bit rattled, is all.” There’s movement, Johnny getting up, stretching, before lumbering over to where you’re frozen to the floor. Simon releases one of your hands, motioning for his partner to stop. The gesture speaks volumes. 

I’ve got it. 

“Johnny, I think, some tea-“ 

“Rog.” He presses a kiss to Simon’s shoulder before heading for the kitchen, and you force a deep breath, still holding on tight, fingers gripped to his like iron. 

“Let’s lay down while we wait, yeah?” Simon instructs, turning your body back towards the bed, keeping his hands on you as he directs you between the sheets. The stiffness in your limbs starts to dissipate as he rubs your back, your neck, arms wrapped around you, holding you tight to his body. You fit there, right in the crook of his torso, his shoulder, and he presses you closer, mask covered mouth above your ear. “You’re safe with us. I’ve got you.”  

“What do ye mean, it’s not the right thing?” Johnny hisses, voice low. He casts a glance at the sunroom door, lips pressed together, jaw tight with disbelief.

“I was telling Price that the relationship is difficult, at times, that it can be hard on all of us, that it doesn’t feel fair, to her. It was a casual conversation, he was talkin' about his wife too. I said…” He trails off, frowning. “I said, I worry about it being the right thing.” Johnny shakes his head, incredulous.

“Well, that’s… that’s just bloody-“

“I was talking to Price as a friend. I didn’t know she was outside.”

“Ye shouldnae’ve been sayin’ anything to Price! Ye get on her for communicating poorly, but then ye go and do somethin’ like this.”

“I know.” Johnny’s still shaking his head, but there’s a note of fear to his voice now, panic, and Simon knows they’re thinking the same thing.

They could lose you. You could run. They just got you back. Just got you settled down. 

The consequences of his mistake loom on the horizon.

You’re going to shut down. 

“Ye need to fix this. Now.”

“Hey.” You whisper, peeking out from the blanket and Johnny’s arm, soft and hazy in the early sun’s light. He bends forward instantly, brushing his lips against your forehead, palm cradling your cheek, thumb stroking across your skin gently. Johnny’s snoring, oblivious, and he can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips, leaning over to kiss his cheek too, running a few fingers through some unruly strands of mohawk. “How was the gym?” 

“Fine. How’d you two end up out here?” He motions to the couch, slipping off his trainers. 

“Couldn’t sleep after you left. Johnny said we should watch a movie, but he nodded off pretty quick.” The Black Cauldron is playing across the screen, one of your favorites, and you shrug your shoulders “He said I could pick.” 

“I said we were goin’ to sleep.” Johnny grunts awake, burying his face into your neck, blinking up over the mound of blankets and your hair at Simon. “C’mere.” 

“Gotta shower.” 

“No come on.” You whine. “Please?” You look so hopeful, and Johnny looks so sweet, he can't say no. He’s weak for it, for both of you, settling himself between Johnny and the couch, shifting your weight so that you’re laying across the two of them, still curled up in the blankets. Johnny’s face is blissfully slack, still half asleep, and he wonders if he can get you back to sleep too. 

“Feel like closin’ your eyes?” He whispers, and you shrug. “We went to bed pretty late last night darling, and you hardly slept the night before.” You make a face, and then try to burrow deeper into the blankets, hiding your eyes from his. 

“’m not really tired.” 

“Did you take your meds this morning?” Johnny cracks an eye open, watching where you squirm under the scrutiny. 

“No…” you pout. Simon looks to Johnny, who gives him a swift nod of acknowledgment. Neither of them have to speak. 

“Alright.” The blankets move, Johnny arranging you so you’re completely in Simon’s arms. “I’ll get them for ye, okay? How about some toast?” He’s the one leaning over now, looking down at you, hand gently cupping your face. You nod reluctantly, and he rewards you with a proud kiss, short and sweet, before turning away for the kitchen.

 “We don’t shut each other out.” Simon implores, listening to the sound of you moving around behind the locked door. “You know that. We need to talk about what you heard, I need-“

“I don’t want to talk.” You yell, and Johnny winces, Simon thunking his forehead against the wood, defeated, worry tying his stomach in another knot.

“Darling, please. Talk tae us. Let Si explain-“ The door swings wide with a jolt, surprising both of them, nearly sending Simon careening forward until he catches himself.

“I don’t want to talk.” You repeat, slowly. Your face is blank, concerningly so, hands already holding two paintbrushes. “I don’t want to talk to either of you right now. I’m fine, I just… I want to be left alone. Is that too much to ask?”

“You’re not fine. It’s okay to be upset, to be angry, you have every right to be. But I can’t let-“

“You can’t let what?” You’re eerily composed, nearly void of the storm that he was expecting, and it’s absence makes him worry even more.

“Let you shut down and ignore us when we need to talk.”

“Why don’t you two talk to each other instead? Since you have so many opinions about what the right thing is. And we all know, what Simon says goes so-“

“No, darling. Stop.” Your mouth snaps shut, outraged, but it fizzles out quickly, and your shoulders slump.

“I’m not doing this.” You rebuff him, swinging the door shut to the sunroom, the art room, and locking it. Johnny covers his face with his hands, and Simon bristles, the overwhelming guilt practically jeering at him, blaming him, reassuring him that this is all his fault.

“’m go get started on dinner.” Johnny grinds out, glum, shooting him a pleading glance before he turns away. Do something, it says. Please.

“She hasn’t answered.” Simon glances at the clock. 

“She has a life, Johnny, and a job. Do you expect her to drop everything, every time we text her in the middle of night? It’s not like she can plan for it.” 

“Ah know but… it’s been all day. She usually at least responds.” He can’t argue there. You do always text them back, even if it takes a little while. If they get home in the early hours of the morning, you’ll usually respond when you wake. 

That didn’t happen this time. 

“Maybe we should call.” Johnny hedges, restless, pacing, overanalyzing the last time they saw you, and the text message they sent earlier. Simon takes a breath, stepping forward to pull him into his arms. 

“I know you miss her.” He doesn’t say it out loud, but he misses you too, and you’re not even theirs yet. “I don’t want us to be too overbearing. We can’t… we’re trying to treat it like a relationship, but we haven’t even had the conversation yet.” He only just showed you his face, before this last op, and that was almost two weeks ago, at this point. 

“But we will. We are. We said we are.” Johnny protests, half panicked. 

“We are.” Simon agrees, soothing him. “I don’t think it’s a bad idea to call, I just don’t want you to be disappointed, if she doesn’t answer.” He tries to temper the younger man’s expectation, hoping that they won’t be left heartbroken if there’s still silence on your end. He wants to see you as much as Johnny does, but he’s cautious about encroaching on your boundaries, upsetting your equilibrium. Too much, too fast, could do more harm than good. 

The phone starts to ring, on speaker, and Johnny chews on his bottom lip, hand rubbing through his mohawk anxiously as it goes to two, then three rings. Simon sighs on the fourth, about to tell Johnny not to stress, when the line clicks open. 

“Hello?” It’s you, but you sound… different. Your voice is scratchy, and thin, almost watery. 

“Hey, darling.” Johnny coos. “Just wanted to give ye a call, see what’s goin’ on?” 

“Hi, I- uh. Sorry, I meant to text you back I just… fell asleep.” Simon frowns, and a warning bell goes off in the back of his head. 

“Are you sick?” He asks, and you take a breath, blowing it out sharply. 

“No, um… well, maybe. I’m out sick from work today. I’ve just been really low energy, not feeling great.” 

“Do ye need us to come over? Have ye eaten?” 

“I’m not that hungry, I’ve just been in bed.” 

“Can we come by? Check in on you?” Simon keeps his voice light and controlled, but worry is crawling up his spine now, pieces clicking together in his mind, painting a picture that’s been all too glaringly obvious. 

“Um, if you want? I’m not really doing anything. I don’t really feel up for… you know. I won’t be much fun for you guys.” You try to joke, and Johnny grimaces. 

“We just want to see ye, darling. We dinnae care about that.” He assures you sweetly, and Simon is already shrugging on his hoodie, looking for his shoes, calling out to the phone from across the room. 

“We’re on our way.” 

“I can’t fix it if you won’t let me in.” He says through the door. He doesn’t know for sure if you’re listening, but he has a good feeling that every time he opens his mouth, you probably pause, head inclined to where he sits outside the room. He can see it, paintbrush in your fingers, mouth slightly ajar as you consider his words.

And then go right back to ignoring him.

Occasionally, over the last hour, he’s heard things here and there, soft murmurs to yourself, the opening of moving boxes, bunching of the tape that had been holding them together. You even came out for water, filling your pitcher in the kitchen in silence, ignoring Johnny’s honeyed and gentle attempts to get you to talk to him. You refused to acknowledge him until he was pressing your water bottle into your free hand, which you accepted with a sigh, shoulders slumped and face completely morose.

You didn’t even look at Simon on your way out, or in, opting to ignore his presence entirely.

His back is a little sore from sitting straight up against the door, and he stretches, bringing his arms over his head to work his neck out. He’s trying to resist the urge to pull the key down from the top of the frame and open the door, something he could easily do, if he had the gall. He’ll let this go on, for a while, until he can’t stand it anymore, until he starts to become too worried. Until the sick feeling in his stomach becomes too much, and he’s forcing you to talk to him. To give him a chance to at least explain.

“Dinner’s ready.” Johnny interrupts his thoughts, holding out his hand to pull him to his feet. “Darling, do you want something to eat? I made chicken soup.” He offers, but there’s no response, and Simon tries to knock for good measure.

“You have to eat.” He murmurs, hand flat against the wood grain. “You know that.”

“’m not hungry.” You’re just on the other side, so close that he can see the shadow of your feet, can practically the feel the vibration of your voice through the door.

“Please, open the door. I need-“ His knees suddenly feel weak, and he’s desperate to just lay eyes on you, to prove to himself that you’re alright, that you’re here, with them. He pleads softly, tidal wave of emotion rising through his body, Johnny’s warm hand on his back between his shoulder blades. “I need to see you.”

[greblogsx]

Me waking up out my sleep to read dead disco

[nickgoesinsane]

wristussy drabble? wristussy drabble.

i don't know enough about miguel to make proper content, so this might be ooc for him lol.

you and miguel are relaxing at home together. he's just watching tv, while you idly feel up his hand (affectionately). then just as you run your finger over (presumably) where his web shooter would be, miguel makes a strange noise.

you turned to look at him, his cheeks are lightly tinted red, though he had his usual poker face. unsure if you imagined the sound, you lightly traced around his web shooter with your thumb—and sure enough–

“mgh– stop..”

this reaction was a little strange to you, as you didn't think that massaging a spider's spinnerets would provide any kind of stimulation. but you couldn't help but tease your lover, continuing to gently manhandle his web shooter. in response, he let out a series of soft groans and curses.

all was well(?) until– thwap! a web was shot onto your chest—the force even knocked you back a little. for a few seconds, you sat there in bewilderment, staring at it. you then looked at miguel, who had a mixture of emotions on his features, though the most prominent ones were annoyance and slight embarrassment. he was even trembling a little.

“i told you.. to fucking stop.” he growled softly, his fangs bearing a bit as he spoke.

knowing you, miguel had a foreboding feeling that you would use this newfound weakness against him. of course you would. why wouldn't you?

did i do it right? :>

Falling on my knees for his wristussy

[greblogsx]

LMAOO wristussy got us hooked 😖🙏🏽

[tainted-liquor]

'Cuddle Monster(s)☾‧₊˚ ⋅

E42!Miles Morales x Witch!BlackFem!Reader ┆˚✧Ingredients: Crack, kisses, and a lil bit of smiles! ┆∘⋆TWs: Cursing, Reader being a menace, n I think that’s it? ┆⁺˚⋆W/C: I’ll fix this later😭 ┆`✦A/N: I lowkey used this as spanglish practice

"Miles? Can you get me some basil and patchouli while you're out?" You called from your bathroom as you heard your front door swing open. "I'm only going to the bodega, but I'll see what I can find Mami!" he shouted back from downstairs before swiftly exiting out your house. You smiled to yourself, thinking about just how much you loved your boyfriend as you threw a slew of items and herbs into a small jar. For the past 5 months, you've been perfecting your new craft of spirit-raising, the art of manifesting a living vessel from the hole between your world and theirs. These spirits, or "monsters" as many people would call them are...usually grateful when you raise them, often repaying your kindness by offering protection and energy in exchange for being their path to this world and theirs.

Since these spirits can be seen as an extension of you due to bringing them into this world, they tend to be in tune with your emotions. When you cried, they cried, when you yelled, they yelled, and when you loved, so did they. When Miles first learned about your ability to pull spirits through that invisible portal, he didn't really care. He's murdered people before, so what's a little witchcraft? After all, he hadn't actually seen exactly what came through that portal just yet.

You casually dumped more herbs and tiny crystals into your jar, maintaining perfect focus on the task at hand as you slowly dumped almond oil into the jar. When everything was finished, you sealed the jar with purple wax before throwing it rather aggressively into your full bathtub. You closed your eyes, silently hoping that you didn't do shit wrong as you kneeled down next to the tub, dunking a hand into the numbing and cold water for a couple of minutes. When you didn't notice anything happening, you sighed to yourself and went to pull your hand out of the water. But no sooner than you moved, you felt something unfamiliar and cold grab your hand.

You felt a harsh tug, then watched as what appeared to be an all-grey horned creature emerged through the tub. It was around 8 feet in height and looked like something straight out of a horror fantasy movie. It had no face, only one massive pitch-black eye where what would be a nose. It stared at you unblinkingly, processing its surroundings before emerging from your bathtub and standing behind you. It looked more afraid of you than you were slightly of it, so you gave it a small wave and a pat on the...knee? to calm it down.

It sat down motionless and limp in the bathroom, radiating content as you heard the front door open. It wasn't even a fraction of a second before the creature came darting out of the room, you following quickly behind it as it advanced toward Miles. Miles didn't even get the chance to scream before it scooped him up, hugging him like the tiniest of babies as its eye closed in joy. "WHEW. OKAY. MAMI, QUÉ ES ESTO?" He shouted with wide eyes. "It's...my new protector! I just raised it...It's not gonna hurt you it just loves you" you quickly explained as Miles froze up in the monster's hands. "Shit...warn me next time" he huffed, slowly relaxing as he processes what was happening.

From that day forward, he learned to accept the sudden appearance of various creatures in his house. A bone dog, a very very long horse, several people that weren't quite people, and various spirits that took on many many forms. He wasn't gonna pretend like it never caught him off guard or scared him, occasionally stepping out of the shower to see a monster or two staring at him silently always managed to raise his heart rate by a couple beats per minute. He knew they loved him with the same affection you always gave him, so he was never truly terrified by them. He had been told it was rude to not speak to them, so he always gave them a rather quiet and shaky "Hola..." whenever he saw them.

"Mama, te amo tan mucho...pero, por favor dime cuando tus 'spirits' will be watching me shower."

"Sorry love!"

And it never quite stopped there. Whenever you were outside of the house and a few entities decided to loom and fawn over your boyfriend, he always knew how you felt in the moment. There were times when he would be sitting on the couch, eating a nice bowl of cereal and a sea of non-human crying could be heard. He immediately jumped up from whatever it was he was doing, running to his phone to check on you. Whether you were minor stressed or full-blown crying, he was able to tell how you truly felt at the drop of a hat. In some sense he was grateful because it allowed him to further understand and navigate...you!

"Mami are you mad at me?"

"...no"

"Tell me the truth, c'mon muñequita"

"What makes you think I'm mad?"

"You deadass?" he huffed as he pointed at the strange thing hovering above him, staring at him with crossed arms and an annoyed grimace.

"okay maybe..."

[greblogsx]

You definitely did your thing with this one! <333

[bluegiragi]

bag of tricks

early access + nsfw on patreon

[greblogsx]

Looked at these an unhealthy amount of times now

[lunarfleur]

It actually pisses me off the way y’all will write Miles (42) so toxic as if it’s healthy??

Like idc how you perceive him, it is not healthy for him to he going through your phone and shit.

He’s a 15 year old boy who probably has problems socializing. This boy probably can’t hold a girl’s hand, let alone do half the shit y’all make him do.

And I know his mama did not raise a lil bitch. Cheating is a no-go.

Be so fr

[greblogsx]

Write what you want but if this the truth 😒

[peachesofteal]

PEACH i’m humblingly asking for more omegaverse dead disco, maybe hearing some more thoughts from ghost and johnny about darling’s heat? perhaps they managed to get you to rest (as they’re both still incredibly sensitive) and as they’re talking about what to do, they witness even more self soothing behaviors from darling in your sleep, like they aren’t even there.

i usually don’t particularly read omegaverse, but the way you wrote it??? AGHHHHH I LOVE IT

So, I don’t usually dabble in omegaverse either, this is the first time I’ve actually started to put words down for it (except for a little fic I’ve been plucking away at) so it’s a little intimidating but also fun! I find it very self indulgent but hey, that’s why I’m here. 🩵

I live for your ideas they’re always sooooo good. Takes place after this.

Johnny closes the door behind him, ensuring it clicks shut, but keeping it quiet enough that it won’t wake you.

They don’t need it to open to listen for you, your scent alone will tell them everything they need to know.

“She’s asleep. Finally.” His head droops forward, into Simon’s chest as the bigger Alpha rubs his back gently. They managed to lull you into a heat hazed sleep, both of them emitting enough pheromones to break through your hormone addled state, reassuring you it was safe enough for you to lay in the bed.

“No- no.” Simon strips his hoodie off and places it on the bed, followed by his t shirt and then Johnny’s as they coax you towards the mattress.

“Yes, darling. It’s okay. This is our bed, it’s your bed.” He holds out your own long sleeve t shirt, trying to jog your awareness with your own scent. Your temperature has gone down since they got home, regulated by their ability to relax you, scent you, but it’s evident you haven’t slept in days. You don’t have the strength to manage a cycle right now, and their priority is your health.

The knotting has to wait.

“It’s- it’s not safe.” Your eyes dart around and Simon tightens his grip on the back of your neck, just enough to help settle you into to an calmer state, while Johnny eases you onto your side slowly.

“You’re safe. We’re right here. You’re in your nest, at home.” Fat tears pool at your eyelids and then roll down your cheeks while you grab for them, trying to press yourself as close as possible.

“A-alpha.” You whimper and Johnny’s heart chips. How long had you been here, crying for them? Alone?

“Shhh.” He hums, and you wrap your arms around his neck. Simon keeps his chest to your back, steady and soothing subharmonics rattling through the three of you. “Close your eyes, darling. Rest.”

It wasn’t uncommon for Omegas to experience feelings of distress and anxiety during a heat or before, and considering the depth of your emotions on a regular day, it didn’t surprise Johnny or Simon that these heat standard emotions were affecting you so strongly.

But for you to be trying to self soothe, scent yourself, was enough to make them both very, very concerned.

It makes them wonder if there are other things about you, that maybe they don’t know.

“She won’t be down for long.” Simon murmurs into Johnny’s overgrown mohawk, and he nods. When you wake, he knows it will be to unbearable agony, and he dreads those moments when you’ll be upset and in pain.

“Need to go to the grocery store.” He grunts, and pulls away to peer into the fridge, worrying his lip between his teeth as he stares at it’s sparse contents. You haven’t been eating. Anxiety roils his stomach, and Simon rumbles a bit to calm him. You’ll need food, and lots of it, fresh fruit and vegetables, protein. Enough to water and juice to sink a ship, too. It’s been a long time since either of them have experienced an Omega’s heat, and it being yours, makes it all that more intense. Precarious. Precious.

They always dreamed of sharing your heat with you, used to whisper about it to one another during their ruts, dreaming about you, wishing you were with them.

But you were insistent about the suppressants. Stubborn about them. You said you needed the drugs, that you couldn’t handle your heats, that you didn’t want them. That you didn’t want to be controlled by your designation.

And they believed you. They didn’t want to push you, make it seem like they were engaging in overbearing Alpha behavior. They loved you no matter your designation. With heats, or no heats.

“Why did she lie?” Simon questions aloud, staring off at the door. His face is grim, and Johnny shakes his head.

“Dinnae ken.”

“I think… there are a lot of things, we don’t know.” He pauses, and then a look of heartbreak filters across his face. “This… this is my fault. I should have been paying closer attention. I shouldn’t have pushed away my instincts, should’ve taken control.” Johnny’s about to disagree when there’s a spike in your scent, waves of sour tinged distress and confusion pulsing from the bedroom.

You’re curled on the bed, shaking against the sheets, a pillow tucked between your knees and-

Your wrist is rubbing against the gland in your neck, again.

Trying to scent yourself, soothe yourself. Even though you’re laying in a pile of their clothes, even though Simon’s balaclava is twisted around your forearm.

Johnny feels sick.

Why don’t you recognize your own partners? Why are you emulating abused, abandoned Omega behaviors?

Why does it feel like you’re on an island somewhere, where they can’t reach you?

“Darling.” Simon coos, and then starts to break down the tense lines of your body, your muscles, encouraging you to lay flat while you whimper and squeak in your fitful sleep.

They shouldn’t have left you alone.

You curl up against the bigger Alpha, but your wrist finds the gland again, and Simon catches it in his hand, pressing a finger to your palm in circular movements.

“No, no baby.” He holds your hand steady, and you twitch against him, lashes fluttering. Johnny molds himself onto the other side, and replaces your movements with his own, pushing out as many calming pheromones as possible, letting his lips press to your hair, your ear, the soft skin of your neck.

Minutes pass, and Simon holds your wrists firm. You twist and pull against him but they hold you steady between their bodies, gentling you as much as they can until your eyes are blinking awake and you’re wincing in pain.

“I don’t feel good.” You moan, and he hums, wide palm sliding over your belly to tuck you closer.

“I know darling, I know. We’re going to make it better, I promise.”

[greblogsx]

I don’t even read alpha and omega things but this⁉️

girl dinner

[deadbranch]

Long-time Tumblr Users: Too many of you know my weaknesses. I guess I should be more discreet online.

Same Long-time Tumblr Users: Fuck yeah, I would die for this man. And this one too. I have a type, and it's HOT DILFs. Oh hell yeah, here's another one *reblogs*

[ad-wills]

lore mode

[lovesbucky]

How do you think Hobie would react if he bent down and his partner just started humping him from behind as a joke and then the partner quickly runs away before he can get them😂 I love your writing btw your really talented and I look forward to reading more 😊 oh and if you do respond could the partner be a girl and maybe you could like make it where he get payback if you know what I mean 😏. It’s up to you. Have a nice day! 😃

sorry for the wait anon!

HAVIN’ A LAUGH?

PAIRING: HOBIE BROWN X FEM!READER

GENRE: FLUFF, SUGGESTIVE

WORD COUNT: 0.4K

AUTHORS NOTE: IF I MAKE A PART 2 IT WILL HAVE HOBIES ‘REVENGE’

SYNOPSIS: THERES NO WAY HOBIE’S LETTING YOU GET OFF EASY AFTER THIS ONE

—

“There’s just no way you actually did that-“

“I did! I swear on my life!” You laugh, hitting Hobie’s arm playfully in the lobby as you recall the mission you just went on. You’re a mess, practically crying as you cling to his arm. Hobie can barely piece together your weird story but he’s gathered that you slapped an anomaly with an entire bunch of bananas that you grabbed from a market stall, completely peeling all of them in the process and coating the anomaly in crushed banana. You were a fruity mess after the battle in a tropical dimension and Hobie was laughing at how hard you were laughing,

“Oh god, i’m so hungry now though! All that beautiful food that I didn’t even get an opportunity to appreciate!” You tsk, walking into the cafeteria with Hobie by your side. He picked up a tray with you and picked out his food as you did when he dropped a bag of chips,

“Aw shit, my fucking crisps…” Hobie groans after the bag falls, indefinitely crushing some of the contents inside. He’s setting his tray down to pick it up when his eye twitches at the sound of you stifling a giggle,

“Don’t-“

“Did you just say crisps? Nah man, get that British tomfoolery out of here!” You nearly cry, laughing your head off as Hobie shakes his head at you, clicking his tongue,

“You really want to play these games, Y/N? What’dyou want me to call em eh? Chips?” Hobie playfully argues, putting on your accent to mock you, and poking your side. You laugh uncontrollably at his annoyed state, your eyes glinting mischievously as he bends down in front of you to grab the bag. Without a second thought, you grab his small waist and hump him right in the cafeteria, your hips slamming into his ass and nearly sending him face forward into the ground,

“Giddy up!” You holler with a mock-southern accent. Hobie flinches and scoffs in disbelief as you take off out the doors, his jaw open and a smile creeping onto his features,

“You havin’ a laugh?” He yells after you, wiping the smile off his face with his hands before he sets the chips on his tray and takes off after you, the whole cafeteria in complete awe at what they just witnessed.

Web-Slinger and his horse eat in the corner of the room, and he shakes his head,

“Amateurs.”

—

@ohxx @luxxtuxx @fatenpara @hobesbf @defnot-bri @lasagnaisbest @deepzombieyouth

[greblogsx]

This was so good make more ‼️😡 (Please😊)

[kil-g]

surprise

a/n: i got too sad after writing that last thing and needed to do something silly

summary: there's a new member of the household and you have to convince simon to like them.

g!n reader; civvy!reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: simon being mean to a dog :(

---

“Hey, I’m…uh—I’m on my way home.”

“Oh!” You say. 

There’s a certain exasperation to your voice that makes him think that you’re somewhere that isn’t the house. He puts his phone down in the cupholder and places both of his hands on the wheel of the car.

“In an hour.”

“An hour?”

“An hour.”

“Could you fuck off somewhere and maybe make it, like an hour and a half?”

“I’d like to go home.”

“I know, yes. I know. It’s just that I have this whole thing planned and I need an extra thirty minutes. You’d be doing me a pretty big solid if you fucked off for a little bit longer.” 

“I’m tired and I’m hungry. I’m not gonna fuck off.”

“What, are we making this a race?”

“You can race. I’m going home.”

“Okay, we’re gonna race.” You say, halfway through laughter. 

“What are you doing?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises.” He says.

“Well, I love you and I need you to suck it up because it’s a pretty cool surprise.”

Simon blinks, keeping his eyes on the road. Then, he sighs and says, “I’ll see you at home.”

“Not if I see you first!” You reply, this time a little out of breath. 

“I’m not racing you.”

“Scared you’re gonna lose?”

“Goodbye.”

“Love you!” 

The line dies out.

Part of him wants to be annoyed. Surprises weren’t exactly his favorite thing in the world. He especially did not like such a surprise that would keep him from coming home after a very long month of trying not to die in a violent, fiery explosion. And, he deeply, desperately wanted to lie down in a bed with an actual mattress, real pillows, and clean blankets.

But, for the life of him, he could not think of anything more unbearable than the thought of letting you down.

It was almost laughable. Simon is first and foremost a soldier. And, when you’re a soldier first before anything else, like a friend, companion, romantic partner, let downs were par for the course. A birthday, an anniversary. Celebrating a promotion or any other achievement of the like. Those didn’t even come secondary or even tertiary on the line of things that needed to be cared about. 

And, the worst part, is that you tolerated it. Sure, there was a certain disappointment to a missed call or text. Despite that, you loved him with a stability that he couldn’t possibly be more grateful for. It made him feel almost normal. Normalcy was a luxury someone like him couldn’t typically afford.

So, before he pulls his car into the driveway, Simon mentally prepares himself to be open-minded. Whatever the surprise was, he would do his best to actually try and enjoy it. That is until he unlocked the front door to the house and stepped in, only to be greeted with the sight of a dog sitting up, barking at him from within a metal crate.

She was clearly still a pup. Her paws are far too big for the size that she currently was. And, the more clear it is that Simon was no threat to her, the more she cries to be let out. Though, Simon makes no move to do any such thing. Instead, he sits on the couch and looks back at her until eventually, she stops making noise all together and resolves herself to sit quietly. Each time Simon accidentally catches her eye, her tail wags, bumping against the floor of her crate softly.

This goes on for about twenty more minutes before a key turns in the door knob once again. You step through, carrying bags of groceries.

“Sweetheart.”

“Can you help me with these?” You say.

Simon gets up, takes bags out of your hands and walks them into the kitchen. “Why is there a dog in the house?”

You lean down to lift the latch off of the door and the dog comes barreling out. “You couldn’t have opened her crate up for her? Why were you just staring at her like a weirdo? It’s a dog.”

“Why is there a dog in the house?”

“It’s our dog.” From one of the bags you were still holding, you pull out a bag of dog treats and throw it at Simon. “Give her one of these so she knows you’re not a complete hardass.”

“I’m not giving it anything.”

“Simon.”

He looks back at you. And, from the way you stare back at him, it becomes more and more clear that this dog is one of the very very few things that you simply won’t back down on.

In fact, there were toys all over the ground. He’s not sure how he didn’t notice them earlier. And, with an attentiveness that only slightly put him off, the dog fell into step beside you following you very closely while also looking up at you for any sign of praise or reward. 

Simon inhales, then exhales. He grumbles under his breath, then rips the bag of treats open and kneels down with one of them in his hand. When the dog notices, she clumsily stumbles her way over to him and gratefully takes the treat from out of his fingers.

You appear at his side and kneel down next to him, pressing a kiss against his cheek. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Whose dog is this?”

“Ours.”

“I don’t want a dog.”

“You’ll learn to want a dog.” You say, jokingly. Your hands wrap around his arm and shake him gently.

“I’m serious.”

“Well, you aren’t exactly home very often. I think the decision is mine.” You say, firmly. “And, as sad as it is to admit, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t lonely, sometimes.”

He can feel the weight of your head on his shoulder. He doubts that your intent is to guilt him–but if it is, it’s certainly working.

The dog nudges her wet nose into the palm of his hand. No doubt looking for more treats Her head is smaller than his hand. As gently as possible, he brushes his knuckles over her head.

“Does the dog… make you feel less lonely?”

“Yes. Most of the time.”

He rests his palm over her head now, brushing his thumb back and forth over the space between her eyes. 

“What’s it’s name then?”

“Goose.”

“Stupid fucking name.” He says, softly.

“Fuck you.” You laugh. “You love it. Asshole.”

Goose walks in a circle in her spot, then sits with her back turned to him. She leans her weight against his knee.

“Not much of a guard dog.” He murmurs, and you reach a hand to scratch behind her ear. “Hardly did anything when I came in.”

“Because she’s a good girl.” You say.

He can feel her tail hit his foot at the sudden excitement at being praised for being anything. “If she’s gonna stay in this house, she’s gonna have to protect it.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Simon takes another treat out of the bag. Goose does absolutely nothing to hide her excitement. “And, how did this happen?”

“She got dumped outside of my work. No one wanted to take her so I took her.” You say. Simon looks at you and you look back at him. “No chip, no collar. She was wandering around our parking lot for hours, I think. Probably waiting for whoever dumped her. Vet said she can’t be any older than five months.”

“When was this?”

“About a month and a half ago.” You rub your thumb against his arm and press your mouth against his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Yeah.”

“So, what do you think?”

Slowly, Goose sinks down closer to the ground and settles her chin over her far-too-big paws. She looks at Simon, blinking at him with big eyes before they slowly settle into a nap.

“I think that a dog is a perfect waste of space.”

“Okay, what do you really think?” You chuckle. 

He sighs. A moment passes of complete silence. You’re hanging onto his arm, kneeling beside him as you both look down at this dog who can only get bigger and dirtier and stupider. This dog, who is also very soft and sweet. And, while (in his own opinion) he might be something of a monster, Simon couldn’t allow himself to be completely heartless. He couldn’t be the thing that takes away the bits of happiness that you can find for yourself.

“If it makes you happy, then I can hardly say no.”

You smile at him, give his arm a squeeze, and press another kiss on his cheek. You stand, “Do you wanna help me with dinner?”

“I’m gonna get cleaned up first.”

You hum in response but before you can fully turn away, he takes your hand and places a kiss on your cheek just below your eye, then another on your mouth. And in the moment that either of you are looking away from Goose, she gets up and begins chewing on his shoelaces.

“She likes you.”

“If I’m lucky it’ll pass.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t say that it will.” 

Another moment passes where it’s nearly completely silent, save for the sound of Goose’s mouth gnawing the little strings attached to Simon’s feet. Then, slowly, you wrap your arms around his neck and give him a squeeze. 

Then, you pull away, picking up Goose with a labored groan. You walk her over to the back door, open it, and place her down at the threshold. She all but stumbles down the steps into the backyard.

“Well, go get cleaned up if you really wanna help me with dinner.”

Simon watches you empty out grocery bags, then sighs. You listen to his footsteps walk farther into the house. And, through the window, you watch Goose twist up and roll into a splotch of mud. 

[greblogsx]

This is cutest 🙁

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