#gifts fer me

[alixcitement]

heeyyyit’s weird but many years ago I used to follow your WoY drawings and I like your style a lot! now that I can draw I can gift you my fav OC of yoursI hope you like it!

Nothing weird about liking a thing, mate! Thank you for the awesome fan art! B;D Glad to know she’s still relevant even after all these years 💝

[alixcitement]

HOLY CRAP! They look so freakin' cool AND pointy!!! (I even have physic powers in this hehe) Thanks for the kick-ass b-day gift, my gurl! ツ👍

Alixcitement's Birthday Adventure 2!!!

starring @alixcitement

don't ask about aba1...

[skalidris]

thought of reading some danmei after a while to give my brain a break from mlc only to be forcefully reminded how many fucking danmei-tropes they slapped into that damn show

[rosetintedgunman]

( @stageplayhero , @xshatteredreflectionsx )

Wilford shrugged. "These blogs have had th' worst luck when it comes ta romance over th' years. If I wanna get some sorta self-indulgence I gotta go find it somewhere."

[paint-the-walls-white]

I don't share

Pairing: Possessive!König x Fem!Reader

Summary: König doesn't like sharing you, which is exactly why you had been married for almost ten years and none of his comrades knew about you. At least, not until he drunkenly spilled the beans and you showed up the next day with a box of cookies..

Warnings: Bondage! MDom! Doggy! CreamPie! OverStim! Oral(M2F)!

König was very secretive of his personal life on account of his social anxiety. He had been transfered to Task Force 141 for a while and had made pretty good friends with them, but of course, one night TF141 was making fun of him while drinking and in his own drunken haze he blurted out something that didn't go unnoticed,

"If you keep making fun of my wife, I'll kill you. Oh wait, that sounded like a joke; I will actually kill you."

He was very protective and possessive of you, which you didn't mind in the slightest. But he had accidently revealed that he had a wife, and everyone kept pestering him about it.

"I bet she's a strong lass aye? Big as an Ox! Only person that makes sense fer a mountain" Soaps slurred comment made him scoff as König kept sipping on his vodka, aggravated and embarrassed.

"What she do fer a living König? She a construction worker or somethin?"

König looked at Gaz with bewilderment. "A construction worker? where the hell did you get that? Gott.. Nein she's a baker."

Even Ghost was muttering how she probably had massive arms to carry 8 trays at once of protein bars. König kept to himself the rest of the night before returning home to you.

"Hi mein Liebe, I'm home." He pressed a kiss on your forehead, stripping off his tactical vest and mask then kicking off his boots.

"How was your night with the boys? Was it fun?"

He lied down on top of you, burying his face in your chest, crushing your small frame as he huffed annoyed.

"Kept making fun of you...Arschlöcher.. kept sayin you were a big burly lady.."

You snorted, running your fingers through his hair. You told him to ignore them because they didn't know what they were talking about, they were just trying to get a rise out of him.

He sighed, content in your arms as he fell into a drunken sleep on top of you, the crushing pressure more than welcomed.

The next day you decided to surprise König on base with a little gift. The guards of course did not believe that you were his wife so you pulled out the marriage certificate and your spouse ID card to shove it in their face. They were gob smacked as they discovered he had a wife and informed you he was currently at the cantina.

You were directed where to go, a box of chocolate chip cookies in had as you made your way there. Once inside, the place gradually got quiet as you made your way over to your husband giddy as his back faced you.

König was currently berating his friends about making fun of you again until he noticed that they weren't even paying attention, they were looking behind him.

He turned, and there you were, barely meeting his eye level while he was sitting, a box of cookies in hand adorned in a pleated pink skirt and a white tank top with a knit sweater and chunky white heels.

"Surprise! I brought you cookies Liebe!"

The horror that flooded his gaze was unmatched. He quickly wrapped around you to hide you from onlookers, glaring in their direction.

"Mein Liebe, what are you doing here? You are for my eyes only!"

You pouted into him, pushing off of his chest, "I wanted to surprise you," His eyes softened and he huffed, turning to glare at the men at the table who were still gaping in your direction.

"Thas your wife König? The lass is like half your size!" Soap stared on in horror, you could tell what he was thinking about so you hid in his shirt.

"Let's go." He stood, throwing you over his shoulder and flattening your skirt over your ass. Your face was red as you tried to keep the box from being crushed, and you just stared down, completely embarrassed.

"König put me down!" You kicked your legs, trying to fight him off, but he just smacked your ass and carried you out of the cantina, everyone completely silent.

"What the hell just happened." Ghost shrugged at Soaps comment and just kept eating silently.

König had carried you all the way to his quarters, gently placing you on the bed. The blood had rushed to your head so you were bright red.

He knelt, taking off your shoes and rubbing at your sore feet.

"Why did you think this was a good idea mein Liebe? Hmm?"

"I just wanted to bring you a treat.. I thought you'd like seeing me here.."

König sighed, kissing your shin before he looked up at you with his piercing gaze.

"Lamm, I can't keep my eyes off of you, which means neither can other men. I'm the only one that gets to look at you. Du bist mein."

You huffed and averted your gaze, cheeks a bright pink as you handed him a cookie.

"Still, you didn't have to make a scene.." He simply chuckled and stood.

"I know you like it when I toss you around Liebling, you cant fool me. I know you loved the attention."

He caged you in on the bed, prompting you to lie on your back, legs hanging off the edge. You pulled up his mask to reveal his mouth and pressed your lips to his. König groaned softly, slanting his lips against yours, intensifying the kiss.

You moaned and panted into his mouth, whimpering at the flavor of his tongue against yours. He ran a hand up your thigh, squeezing your soft skin in his calloused hands.

He pulled away to attack your neck, sucking and biting at the exposed skin

"K-König.. what if someone sees-!"

"Don't care.. they need to know who you belong to... Du bist mein..."

You squirmed underneath him, far too excited at the attention he was giving you, especially when he slipped a finger under your panties and rubbed at your sloppy folds.

"Scheiße.. du bist so wet for me Liebe.."

You watched with dazed eyes as he slid off the bed onto his knees, dragging you to the edge of the bed where he ripped off your underwear and started sucking on your clit. You immediately grabbed at the fabric of his mask and threw your head back, arching into his mouth as you moaned loudly.

König quickly sunk two fingers into your wet cunt, rubbing at your sensitive walls as he fucked you with his hand. You met his gaze and whimpered as he continued eating you out like a starved man. He moaned against your pussy as you came on his hands and face, plenty of slick being absorbed into the fabric hiding his face.

A soft whine escaped as he cleaned up your mess with his tongue, savoring every drop of your arousal. He stood, sucking his fingers clean as he stared down at your spent form lying limply on the bed.

"Braves Mädchen.."

You lied there, staring at him as you tried to grasp a single thought after that mind blowing orgasm, but you just blushed when you noticed his dick straining against his pants.

"What is it Liebling? You want more? Dirty little slag..."

Gnawing on your lip, you nodded, completely drunk on his attention. The sound of his belt being unbuckled and shucked from his pants immediately made you throb for him.

He bound your wrists with the belt, flipping you on your stomach so you were bent over the side of the bed. You had to stand on your toes, causing your legs to shake at the stretch.

"König.. Please.." He chuckled at your desperate plea as he forced your knees back onto the bed so your hips met his. He rubbed the head of his cock along your slick folds, teasing you by swiping over your clit.

You whined, burying your face further into the mattress as the friction of the blanket rubbed against your knees. König sunk the head of his cock into you, eliciting a pitiful moan as he stretched you wide, this fat cock stuffing into you inch by inch.

He groaned softly at the friction, praising you for taking him so well, "It's like you were made for me Mein Liebe, wrapped so fucking tight around me... Scheiße.."

He slowly pulled out then sunk back in, reveling in the feel of your gummy cunt wrapping tight around his meaty shaft. You whined, pressing against him to meet each thrust, tears staining the mattress as you took his cock.

König nearly growled every time you sucked him back in, head thrown back as he pulled your hips against his.

"I don't share Liebling.. You're all mine.. Only I get to see you.. get to fuck you... Scheiße.."

He moaned as you tightly squeezed around him, creaming on his dick. He watched as a ring of white collected at the base of his cock, stuffing it all the way in before spurting thick ropes of cum into your cunt.

He pulled out slowly, his cum leaking down your thighs as you whimpered at the empty feeling. He gently undid the belt around your wrists and pressed a kiss to your forehead through his mask.

"Stay there Liebling, Ill clean you up.."

König stepped away to get a washcloth soaked in warm water, gently cleaning off the arousal that had covered your legs and folds, placing a gently kiss on your ass and putting your underwear, socks and shoes back on for you.

"Now let's get you out of here, I don't need anyone else looking at my beauty.." you just nodded slowly and tried to rise on shaky legs. Clinging to his arm, he walked you back to your car, many onlookers staring in shock and utter horror.

He raised his mask above his nose and pressed a soft kiss to your lips before letting you leave. When you started the car, window still rolled down, he listened intently to the radio, realizing you were listening to his playlist.

Rein, Raus

Rein, Raus

Rein, Raus..

You flushed, turning down the radio and meekly met his gaze, "I like that song.. Reminds me of you.."

His piercing blue eyes told you all you needed to know. When he got home, you wouldn't be going anywhere for a while.

Because he was going to make sure you couldn't walk.

[satorisoup]

ᰔ CANDY GRAMS ft. rintaro suna

ʚ CW : secret admirer. manager! reader.

ʚ hq valentine’s series mlist ಇ

every year on valentine’s day, your schools student body sets up a booth for candy grams. $2 to send a cute little message to your loved one with little lollipops and candied hearts. the line would stretch all the way down the hall with students eager to buy one, the end of the line grumbling at their time wasted when they heard the shout of “sold out!”. it was a huge tradition that the students never failed to miss, as it would always cause an uproar of excitement along with the funds being donated to whatever cause.

it’s your second year at inarizaki highschool, and you were luckily privileged enough to become the manager of the volleyball club during the second half of your first year, being a new student, despite the insane amount of girls who had applied for the spot. you had made it extremely clear that no, you were not interested in the twins, no, this wasn’t a plan to get one them to fall in love with you, and no, you weren’t a secret spy for a fangirl instagram account trying to gather information. all things accounted for, you were accepted into the position.

now as a second year, you had kept your word on not falling for the infamous volleyball twins who in reality were just dumb teenage boys that talked your ear off with their constant nagging and immature jokes. however, the one who had caught your eye was the middle blocker with the #10 jersey, rintaro suna. they never said you couldn’t have a little crush on him, right? and even despite having quite the interest in him, you would never act on it, as you seemed to be good friends with him along with the twins, not daring to ruin the friendship or break the trust with the club.

suna was a nice person to be around, his sense of humor was infectious and he was a good, more tame break from the rambunctious person known as atsumu miya, even though they did tend to occasionally get into mischief when together. he was blunt in the ways he showed that he cared, and you recall the moment you realized you had feelings for him when you had accompanied him at the store to get a snack before practice. he had asked you if you wanted anything, and you had told him you didn’t have any money with you.

“i didn’t ask if you had money. i asked what you wanted.”

it left you blushing for the rest of the day, walking out of the shop with a cookie in hand and hearing “why didn’t ya pay fer me?!” fall out of atsumu’s mouth in complaint. you knew in your heart you definitely couldn’t deny it now, you had fallen.

the date marked february 14th, valentine’s day, and just like last year, the halls were bustling in delirium as the line stretched from one end of the courtyard to the other. you slung your bag over your shoulder and continued to walk to your designated class, overhearing the cheers of the people who finally made it to the front of the string of students. making your way to class and taking your seat, you prepare to take on the day as if it were any other.

eventually, the period before lunch had rolled around, and the person passing candy grams from each class had reached your door. you could feel the anticipation of your peers as the student began dropping each one off to certain desks. 1 here, 3 there, 5, wow that’s quite a few.

after most of the class had received their special gifts, whispering the notes their partners had left for them to one another, you had expected the deliverer to make their leave and be on with it.

your assumptions hadn’t been correct, when you see that they had made their way to your desk.

“10 candy grams for miss l/n, here you go!”

wait what?

you caught a few quiet gasps and small whispers from some of your classmates as your desk had been filled with a whopping number of 10 candy grams. even you had wanted to gasp yourself, but you really did not want this attention on you.

after everyone had quieted down a little more, you took the gracious opportunity to check the pink slips of paper on each packet of treats.

“to: y/n.”

again, you checked another slip. then another, and another for good measure. to your upmost confusion, every single slip you had was completely nameless. before you could comprehend exactly what was going on with these mysterious sweets, class was being dismissed for lunch.

“buying candy grams for yerself? that’s pretty depressin’.” atsumu bellowed at you when you had walked up to your friends, arms almost overflowing with your gifts.

“im not that cheap, you idiot…there’s 10 here, and ALL with no name.” you scoffed back at him.

“maybe it’s yer stalker.” osamu had countered, eyeing the bags.

“oh yeah, how lovely that would be. quit trying to scare me, osamu.” you deadpanned. “where’s suna?”

“dunno. so, ya gonna share that candy or what?”

“really miya? you’re both holding an entire grocery bag of them. i’ll see you guys at practice.” you walked off, still pondering on the thought of who it could be.

you still hadn’t managed to find suna within the midst of this entire situation, wanting to get his input. despite the so called “thrill” of having a secret admirer, you didn’t really seem to care. you wanted suna, and you wanted it to be him who was sending you stupid pieces of candy and dumb notes. that however, is a wish that could never be granted no matter how bad you yearned for it.

it’s the last half of the day by now, most classes having been visited by the deliverer, disregarding a few. mostly extra candy grams were being passed to the people who didn’t receive them before lunchtime. you practically ignored the lesson your teacher was explaining, too caught up in your thoughts to listen. 10 candy grams, no name, suna has practically disappeared. when class had been dismissed, you passed by your locker in hopes of putting the treats in there for later, but when you opened the latch, you had yet another surprise waiting for you.

10 more packets of candy dribbled out of your locker, a couple landing by your feet as if to mock you. you scamper to pick them up with a huff, and when you start to shove them in with the rest in your locker, miserably failing to fit them all inside, you come to an immediate realization.

atsumu is the only person who unfortunately knows your locker combination, back when you had held his lost textbook for him until he could get it back.

it dawned on you in an instant, of course, this was atsumu’s idea of humour, a perfect valentine’s day prank.

you roll your eyes at the idea of the twins antics, but also began to feel a tinge of sadness when you came to your conclusion, a hint of hope in the back of your mind that maybe, it was the one your heart had longed for who was up to this, but you’re quick to shut it down. with an upset slam of your locker, you head to the gym.

feet that slowly skid onto the concrete stairs was all that could be heard, and your shoes squeek against the vinyl flooring of the inarizaki gym when you enter. as you prepare to tell off atsumu, a voice interrupts you.

“what’s up with you?”

it was suna, his head cocked to the side with a slight furrow in his brow.

“im trying to find atsumu, he’s really done it this time…”

“and what did he do?”

“he thought it would be a funny idea to prank me! on valentine’s day of all days! sending a mountain of candy grams that won’t even fit in my locker…there wasn’t even a name on them. and it made me think…” you interrupt yourself before you accidentally say too much, “it’s just dumb yknow?” you huff.

“i figured you would think something dumb like that.”

“… huh?”

suna starts to dig into his bag, hand reaching in and then back out. one of his arms extended out to you, holding one of the same cellophane bags that had been taunting you all day.

this one held a cookie, the same kind as that day back at the store, and when you open the note, you can feel yourself grow lighter.

“to: y/n.

you’re kind of a dunse.”

and this time, there’s an indicator of the sender on the slip of paper, in the same handwriting as all of the others.

“R. S.”

you look to suna with widened eyes and a growing blush to your cheeks, your mouth slightly ajar when you ask him,

“…it was you?”

suna softly smirks at you, his hidden facade of mischievousness breaking as he replies,

“yeah, you should really think before you trust a miya with your locker combo.”

[fictionismyreality3]

Penpals with the 141

Warnings: stalkerish behaviour at the end teehee 🤭

Notes: if only I had a hot military man or men to send letters to 🤷🏻‍♀️😩

It started out as just another way to keep the boredom away. Sending care packages to military members was also a plus. You'd be staying busy and doing a good deed at the same time. You found some trustworthy-enough organization, signed up, and sent out your first letter along with a few goodies like choclates and warm socks.

The 141 had never really thought much about getting care packages from civilians. In their eyes it was just a good way to get the things they missed out on while on deployment. Most of the letters got tossed as soon as they opened the box.

That was until they got yours.

The stupid little smiley face drawn on the cardboard shouldn’t have stopped Simon in his tracks, but he found himself staring down at the doodle.

"L.T? Y'been standin' there fer a good 15 minutes." Soap remarked.

"S'that your favourite candy, right?"

Soap was swayed by the chocolate oranges, finding himself reading your letter as he scarfed down each wedge. The curly handwriting, the crossed out and rewritten words had him showing the letter to Gaz, and then Price. Soon you found yourself in an almost penpal situation. Over the exchange of more and more letters, you were able to dicern the personalities of each man who was writing to you.

There was Soap, who wrote in barely legible chicken scratch, often skipping words or even entire sentences, like he was thinking too fast for his hand to keep up. Always calling you 'bonnie' or 'lass'.

Gaz, who wrote much more formally. His hand writing was the best to read, neatly printed on the lines of the paper. You got the sense that he sat down and put his whole attention into writing back to you.

Ghost, who's name you were yet to learn, tacked on his responses at the end of the paper. It was rare to get more than a few sentances from him, and even rarer for them to be anything but small talk. Slowly, he began to open up, asking you how you were or if your boss had resolved that HR issue yet. How did he know that?

Price, who'd quickly insisted on you calling him John— makes me feel old, luv— was the one who you seemed the most interested in your life. You chalked it up to him wanting to have something to think about other than his life threatening job.

Questions about your living situation, your job, your hobbies, it all seemed like small talk. Easy enough to look over. And then came the questions about your bills. Does your job pay enough? When's the last time you've been on vacation? What does your ideal living situation look like? Are you in a relationship?

It wasn't just John who was asking. So were Gaz, Johnny, and even Ghost began to inquire about more personal details. Every time you got a letter, it was almost a pavlovian response for your cheeks to blush. You looked forwards to the letters from your far away military men, and they even sent you gifts!

A watch, just like the one on your pinterest, wrapped up in a pretty pink bow. They added on such a sweet note too.

"Synced up to our watches." Ghost.

"Thought you needed a little treat." Gaz

"Here you go, bonnie! Now you can know when we're awake!" Soap.

"Let me know if you need it tightened, sweetheart." John.

They didn't feel the need to tell you about the favour they called in with Laswell to get the micro-tracker added, or about the camera and microphone they planted in the watch face. You looked so pretty with it on anyways, they'd need to make sure nobody stared too long.

[random-thot-generator]

Simon is slow to share his past with Johnny, but sometimes he'll share memories that are 'safe'.

One memory he shares is about the cuddly toy he had as a little boy. His grandmother gave it to him when he was still in nappies, and he'd kept it for years after she passed because it reminded him of her.

"Bloody thing was ugly as sin," he'd muttered, describing it. "S'posed t'be a penguin, but it had bald patches an' a missin' eye, beak all chewed up an' smashed in its face." He huffed a laugh. "Kinda like mine is now."

When Johnny asked what became of it, a pained look crossed Simon's face, a slight blush riding high on his cheeks.

"Guess I was close t'ten. Still had the ratty ol' thing, kept it hidden under the mattress. Sometimes I'd get it out if I had a bad dream. Helped me get back t'sleep." He shrugged, embarrassed. "Was too old t'be sleepin' with cuddlies, least tha's wha' m'dad said. He caught me wiff it one night, took it away, ripped it apart. Tol' me only babies slept with cuddlies."

He went quiet for a moment, then blew out a breath. "Tha' old teddy on the bookshelf, tha' was yers?"

"Aye. Da bought in a gift shop fer me after mam had me. Had ever since."

Simon nodded. "'S good ya kept it."

Three weeks later, Johnny's on loan to another task force and calls Simon, who's at home. During their video call, he spies his old teddy bear poking out of the bedcovers near Simon. He doesn't say anything, but it chokes Johnny up.

Next mission they're apart, it's Simon who's out and Johnny's home. He calls to check in to find that Johnny's relaxing in bed, drawing. Perched on Simon's pillow beside him is a brand new plushie, a fuzzy black and white penguin with yellow feet and beak.

"Wha's tha' on the pillow?"

Johnny grabs it and holds it in front of the camera, grinning wide. "Saw it an' it reminded me of ye. Had t'get it. Sleep wi' him while yer gone. Makes me feel better."

They ended up buying each other tinier versions to keep tucked away in a pocket when on assignment.

And no one dares say anything to the scary lieutenant when they see him sleeping with a wee bear clutched in his hand.

-

[shotmrmiller]

Valentine's day with Pathetic!Simon

You should've known Johnny had been serious when he talked to you that morning.

"LT's never had anyone to gift fer Valentine's. Just...let him give ye the flowers 'n accept the chocolates, aye?"

Simon stood in front of you, pinning you in place with his beady gaze, a bouquet of red roses in his clenched fist.

The ends of them look torn. You really hope he didn't just rip these off of someone's front yard.

He interrupts your inner musings by forcefully presenting them to you— velvet petals brushing your lips, causing you to jerk your head back slightly.

Allllrighty then.

Tenderly, you raise your hands and grab them— encircling the base of the rose just above his hold.

"Thank you for these, Simon. They're very beautiful," you croon. His delivery might be awkward, but you truly are grateful for them. Every individual rose is pristine, colours vibrant, stems strong and firm— not a brown petal nor wilted leaf in sight.

They're perfect.

Until your fingers are pricked by something pointed.

What?

You let go quickly and turn your hands up to inspect them. Sure enough, there's blood beading up on some of your fingertips, and the soft flesh of your palms.

And you grab Simon's wrist to lift the bouquet to eye level.

Thorns.

They're everywhere, and Simon's knuckles are white from how tight he's holding the roses.

"Jesus! Simon! You've got to be kidding me! Put them down!" As you let him go, you quickly spin around to fetch your first aid kit, but a forceful grip on your shoulder stops you in your tracks and spins you right back around.

"Just get a vase for them," he rumbles.

In disbelief, you protest, "What? No! You need—" but he swiftly interrupts you, his grip on your shoulder tightening marginally.

"What I need is f'you to get a vase." His firm response is resolute.

"O-okay, I...I er, got a few under the sink." With a silent stride, Simon stays close behind you, his hand that had touched your shoulder now curling around the back of your neck— only letting go when you reach for the sink base.

Placing it on the countertop, you ask him if he would now put them down.

"No. Fill it with water."

Simon nods when you do as he says, then drops them inside the vase— and you can't look away as red furls inside the once-clear water, turning it pink.

He clears his throat, catching your attention, and when you turn to face him, Simon's handing you something else.

It's a flattened snickers bar. You can see caramel peeking out from one corner, and the wrapper is streaked with some of his blood.

Delicately, you grab it with your thumb and index by the sticky edges and place it on a paper towel.

"How did you know that snickers are my favorite?" Simon doesn't answer, only looks at you unnervingly expectantly.

Right. Let him give me the flowers and chocolate.

"Thank you so much for all of this, Simon. Happy Valentine's Day."

He lets out a deep sigh (of relief?) and opens long arms. You walk up to him, wrap your arms around his waist— the side of your head flat on his broad chest— and let out an undignified squawk when you feel your spine pop as he returns the hug.

You blatantly ignore the bulge firmly pressing itself into the soft flesh of your lower stomach, and definitely don't think about how large it feels.

"Happy Valentine's Day, pet."

Later, Johnny laughs so hard that he cries when he sees the rust-colored streaks of blood on the Snickers wrapper.

"Simon's an intense man, what can ah say?"

[dixons-sunshine]

Doggie Bath | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: It was bath time for your daughter. However, she refused to take a bath unless Dog bathed first, and the furry companion refused to comply with Daryl's requests. Luckily, Dog loved you and would easily comply with your wishes.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Post Bridge (Not mentioned, but Rick doesn't go missing and the Leah plot never happened, hence Daryl being in Alexandria.)

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive themes towards the end.

Word count: 1.2k.

A/n: I don't know what this is. I had an idea pop up and I tried to get it written down, but not very well lol. However, I hope you like this!

“Dog, c'mon. Jus' this once, buddy,” Daryl practically pleaded with his furry companion, desperately trying to lead Dog towards the bathtub and into the water, but to no avail. “I'll cook ya a squirrel if ya do this fer me.”

In your arms, your three year old was happily giggling as she watched her dad struggle due to something she requested. “Go, Doggie, go!” Hazel happily babbled as she clapped her hands for added emphasis. “Pick up, Daddy. Put in water.”

You were seated on the closed lid of the toilet with Hazel in your arms as you watched in amusement as your husband struggled with the big dog. “Yeah, babe, pick him up. Put him in the water.”

Daryl shot a small glare in your direction. “The hell ya think I've been doin'?” Dog suddenly barked loudly, making Daryl flinch and your daughter burst out into laughter. Daryl looked at Hazel with a playful glare, but the smile on his lips betrayed his true emotions. “Oh, s'this funny to ya, Hazelnut? How 'bout I put ya into the bathtub first?”

Hazel gasped and hid her face in your neck. “No! Mama, Daddy mean. He promised. He breaking promise.”

You let out a small chuckle and rubbed her back affectionately. You looked at Daryl and shared a smile with him. “You can't break your promise to our daughter, Dar.” Your eyes moved down to look at Dog, who defiantly laid on the ground with no intention of setting his paws into the water. “The deal was Dog, and then Hazel. You can't go back on your word now.”

Daryl groaned in frustration. “He won't fuckin' listen. He—” Daryl suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, all colour draining from his face. His eyes flickered back to Hazel, praying for the first time in his life; he really prayed that Hazel hadn't heard his little slip up. However, Hazel appeared ignorant to his mistake, making Daryl sigh in relief. “Oh, thank god.”

You laughed and lowered Hazel from your lap and onto the floor, handing her your necklace to play with. “Stay here, baby. Mama needs to help Daddy bathe Dog. Daddy can't do it without Mama's help.”

Hazel giggled and started toying with the arrow on the necklace you gave her to play with—a gift that had been given to you by Daryl many years ago.—and nodded. “Mama gonna get it right. Daddy learn from Mama.”

Daryl smiled fondly down at his daughter and shook his head. “Ya have a lot'a faith in yer dear ol' dad, huh?” He stepped back and allowed you to approach Dog, who excitedly wagged his tail and nudged his nose into your hand. “Good luck with tha', Sunshine. If he ain't gon' listen to me, wha' makes ya think—” With little to no effort, you urged Dog into the bathtub, the puppy in a grown dog's body excitedly splashing around in the water, nearly soaking both you and Daryl . Daryl sighed and shook his head. “I thought ya were on my side, Dog. Fu—Freakin' traitor.”

You laughed and scratched Dog's chin. “Good boy.” Dog barked happily and moved around in the water, luckily making no attempts to jump out of the bathtub. You turned your head and sent your husband a cheeky smile. “What can I say? He's a total ladies' man.”

Daryl hummed, his eyes narrowed at his furry friend. “Would be alrigh' if he wasn't tryna impress my girl with his tactics.” He stepped back and leaned down, picking Hazel up and adjusting her in his arms. “Ain't tha' righ', Hazelnut? Dog's tryna steal Mama from us?” He gently started tickling her on her stomach, eliciting shrieks of laughter from his baby girl. He chuckled and pressed a soft, tender kiss to her temple. “Dun' worry. I won't let Dog steal her from us. He'll have to fight me fer her.”

You smiled at the two people you loved the most in the whole world fondly. You leaned forward to grab the dog shampoo—something Daryl found while on a run and something you were surprised actually still existed in the now messed up world you existed in—and lathered some onto your hands. “You just gonna stand there and look pretty, Dixon, or are you gonna help?”

“Hmm,” Daryl hummed as he pretended to think about your question, gently rocking Hazel in his arms as she lowered her head to rest on his shoulder. “Nah. I think ya got it. 'Sides, yer clearly tha' traitor's favourite. He'll stay still for ya.”

You playfully narrowed your eyes at him. “So you're leaving this all up to me while you, what, watch?”

Daryl took your prior spot on the closed lid of the toilet. “M'holdin' our daughter. Ain't tha' the excuse ya used earlier when I originally asked fer yer help?”

“Touché, Dixon, touché.”

Daryl chuckled again and smoothed his hand over Hazel's back. All fell silent between the two of you after that. Dog was relatively still while you washed all the grime from his coat, only moving whenever you tried to wash his paws. In a little over ten minutes, Dog was completely clean and more than eager to leave the cooling water. Before you could even attempt to towel dry him, Dog was shaking himself off, sending water flying in every direction.

Daryl shielded Hazel from the onslaught of droplets. “Dog, no!” Dog simply barked and made a run out of the door, leaving wet footprints in his wake. Your husband simply rolled his eyes and shook his head, standing up from the toilet and holding Hazel close to his chest. “Fuckin' hell. M'wetter than a drownt rat righ' now.”

You laughed and nodded, standing up and wiping the water from your body. You turned to Daryl and eyed your daughter in his arms, a look of realization dawning on you. “She's asleep, isn't she?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. She fell asleep almost fifteen minutes ago.”

You shook your head and allowed a small smile to spread over your face. “Well, at least Dog's clean.” You took a step forward and pressed a soft kiss to Hazel's head. “Let's just put this little Gremlin to bed. We'll bathe her first thing tomorrow morning.”

Daryl nodded and leaned forward, capturing your lips in a quick, loving kiss. He pulled back and gave you a small, fond smile. “I love ya, Peach.”

“I love you too, Dar,” you replied softly, caressing his cheek. Hazel started stirring in the archer's arms, making your breath hitch. Luckily she only adjusted her head on her dad's shoulder, making you sigh in relief. “I think that's a sign that we should get her to bed. And after that, how about we watch a movie in our room?”

“Yeah,” Daryl quickly agreed, nodding eagerly. “Let's go.”

Daryl knew exactly what you meant by that. The television that came with the small house you lived in with Daryl and your daughter was located downstairs in the living room. There wasn't a television in your shared room. However, with a little one running around and needing to speak in codes around her innocent ears, that particular code translated to something else, something much more enjoyable.

And after Hazel was put to bed, Daryl wasted no time in rushing you to your room and gently pushing you onto the bed for some much deserved “movie watching.”

[sadplaguedoctor]

grief

⤷ silco x fem!reader

summary: you’ve been taking silco’s death rather hard and found yourself doing almost anything to remember him, even if that means masturbating in his chair.

tags: solo masturbation, referenced major character death, scent kink, grief, angst, hurt no comfort, you are going slightly mad

It’s been two months. Two whole months since Silco had gone and died and left you here alone to fend for yourself— something you had gotten used to not having to do after so many years of being with him.

His office was quieter than before, and cold. So very cold. You no longer had the option of pushing yourself up next to him despite his grumbles about “distraction” and “important business”. You no longer felt his arms wrapped around your body late at night. The rise and fall of his chest was now forgotten.

Though, you were determined to keep him alive in any way you could. You slept in his bed, wore some old jewelry of his, wrapped yourself up in the clothes he had gifted you time and time again. Even sprayed yourself with his cologne— just a bit, making sure to get it mostly on his clothes that were saved for bedtime.

His pillows still faintly smelled of him. The amount of times you had turned your head to shove your nose into the fabric all while burying your fingers within yourself was lost to you.

Sometimes, you would cry. Cry because your fingers weren’t his and would never be his again. They didn’t reach the areas that he touched with so much grace, nor were they as rough. It was a reminder of the empty husk he had left you to wallow in.

“I still feel your presence,” you spoke quietly, talking to a figment of the past as you dragged your fingertips across Silco’s desk. “I still see you. In the dark, in our bed.”

There was no doubt that your sanity had been slipping ever since the incident. You would hear his voice speaking to you and guiding you throughout your day. Sometimes, you’d see him duck behind alleys or stand silently in the corner of his bedroom. You often found yourself fighting the urge to follow these hallucinations, but then with one simple blink, he disappeared.

“Jinx tells me I’m going crazy, but I see it in her eyes. She feels the same. We all do.”

It broke you to see the distant look in Jinx’s eyes when she thought no one was looking— but it hurt even more to see the rabid, pure unadulterated fury in them. Sure, you both got to see and feel different versions of Silco, but the pain of loosing him was similar. It was sorrow, it was dejection, it was rage.

But, truly, what good did crying do? It wouldn’t bring him back. No matter how many times you screamed into his pillow, begging for one little sign that he was still watching over you. You remained cold.

His chair still felt the same against your body, the softness of the plush leather stuck to your skin the same way it used to. It kept you warm during nights spent staring off into space, reminiscing on old memories you could never experience again.

Though, you were weak. You could only spend so much time inhaling his scent without becoming eager and internally frustrated.

One arm rest dug into your back as your legs draped over the other— head turned so your nose could press against the back of the chair, taking in as much of his lingering scent as you could without having to gasp for air.

Jeans pooled at your ankles and your legs shook, fingers hurriedly pumping in and out of your cunt while you wriggled and writhed on the leather.

“You were always so desperate with me. I must say, I’m quite pleased to see that spark never dulled.”

You could hear him. His voice echoed in your mind like his lips hovered by your ear, taunting you.

“Damn you,” you whispered, closing your mouth quickly after to muffle any sounds of pleasure that dared to escape you. “Damn you for leaving me.”

A jolt shot through your body and your thighs clenched tightly around your wrist, head thrown back as you choked on your own breath. Your movements were feral, unhinged and like he said, desperate. So were the tears that cascaded down your cheeks, pooling at the corners of your lips which began to part and make way for broken sobs and groans.

When you came, you kept your fingers tucked inside you— not ready to get rid of that stretch, that sensation of being full and his. Silco’s name bubbled up in your throat and died on your tongue, the taste sour and grey.

“Good girl,” he whispered once more, a light pressure pushing against your temple. You clung to that. Clung to the phantom kiss that would fuel your desires and delusions for days to come.

He was gone, you knew that. But the figure that vanished the moment you opened your eyes, promised otherwise.

Even in death, he haunted you.

i wrote this the very moment i woke up this morning and posted it an hour after. this wasn’t the first and will not be the last time i wake up to the thought of silco.

[2-dsimp]

How would Nokka react to walking into a very domestic scene (you in the kitchen or smt and listening to music)

Cw: coercion, suggestive, Nokka being a simp, manipulation, slight mention of creampies

Yandere husband Admiring you from beyond the couch. Watching you fix him his favorite meal. While he reminisces about the past between the two of ya.

Nokka: ‘My babydoll being sucha good little thing fer me. Ah it was so worth it having them sign that marriage certificate once we started dating’

For context he did indeed made you put your signature down when y’all had an expensive anniversary date. He didn’t necessarily trick you into signing it all he did was tell ya to write down your signature.

While he covered your eyes, encompassing his hands over yours. Effectively helping you drag your pen over the legally binding certificate of marriage. Saying that it was meant to be a special surprise gift for the both of you guys…Back to the present.

Nokka: ‘They look so cute when they’re busying themselves in the kitchen…Damn that ass is fat, I need a get me a piece of that’

Y/N: Feeling a telltale shiver draw up their spine in a foreboding manner. Looking back to find that their husband was nowhere to be found. Only moments later to be met with a meaty slap to the rear followed by a greedy hand grab. And a dark rasp into your ear.

Nokka: “I’m in the mood for some deep creampies dontcha think that’d be nice too darlin?”

[spidybaby]

do another pedri the type ❤️ please

Pedri the type 2

Summary: The type of boyfriend Pedri would be in different situations of life.

Warnings: cursing.

He's the type to do activities with you without questioning them.

"Okay, now that's a coffee cup." You giggle. "Look at mine." You say, showing him your cup.

He smiles, looking at how happy you look with your work. "Está guapa eh!" He smiles. "I'm painting mine blue and red, like the club."

You try to decide what color you should paint your cup. You wanted something cute, maybe some pastels.

"Try some light green." He suggests. "Or some white and some flowers."

You nod, doing the flowers one. You grab a white coat of paint, making sure to create an even canvas for your painting.

You two work on your own pieces. Laughing at how concentrated and cute your faces made. Pedri showed you his work, explaining the drawing he did.

"Muy guapa," He says, looking at your cup. "Mine has a small dog, like nilo."

You smile at how much you love doing these activities. You love that he takes the free time he has to spend it with you.

He's the type to let you ramble about your day. If it's bad, he let you talk your anger out. If it's good, he celebrates with you.

"Una putada!" You say, frowning. "He fucked up and decided to throw me under the bus by saying it was me."

He passed the salt to you. Letting you talk about your day, letting you get your frustration out.

"I had to stay two extra hours." You move the pasta you were cooking. "And they told me that I need to go to work this weekend."

You slam the kitchen rag on the counter. Frustrated. He grabs two plates, serving the pasta on them.

"Want some cheese?" He asks.

"Si," you say. "A lot." You pout.

He nods, adding extra extra cheese to your plate. He brings the plates to the table, watching you serve the drinks.

"And my bubblegum fell on the ground today." You pout, handing him his drink.

You frown for a little, staying quiet. He's smiling, trying not to chuckle at how you look. Looking at your food with your serious face.

You sigh, relaxing a little now that you told him about your day. You stop the frown on your head, sipping your drink.

"How was your day?" You ask him, now smiling.

He smiles back, grabbing your hand and kissing it. "It was good. Today, I scored the winning goal of my team."

We all know his parents and Fer live with him, so I think he's the type to crash your place. Like on a random Thursday, you would get back home and find him watching a cartoon.

You open the door, watching the video your friend sent you. You leave your bag on the couch. Taking your shoes off and walking to your room.

You noticed the sound of the TV. Thinking that maybe you didn't turn it off. You hit yourself mentally.

You open the door, finding a very concentrated Pedri. He's eating some pistachios, enjoying some Sponge Bob.

"Hola, pepi." You smile happily. You move closer to him, kissing his lips. "What are you watching."

He moves to the side, so you fit on the bed with him. You join him, hugging his side. "I'm watching Sponge Bob." He says happily, kissing your hair.

He offers you some of his snack and drink. You accepted happy. You love watching cartoons and better if you have him by your side.

He's the type to add his touch to your place. Even if it's a room on your parents' house, a room on a shared house with roomies, your own place. He would add his touch.

"Pedri, this is too much." You say, rolling your eyes at him. "You just got me a new TV. The gifts need to stop."

Pedri stands with his hands on his waist, smiling at his new purchase. A new ps5 with a cover on your favorite color.

"It's your favorite color." He says. "And the controller is the same color." He points at it.

You shake your head, smiling at how cute he looks. "Amor, thank you for the thought of picking the PS5 with a cover of my favorite color." You say, hugging him. "Thank you for the new TV, for the drinks you got me, for the snacks and everything else you got me."

"You don't have to thank me." He smiles, hugging me harder. "I'm going to teach you how to play, I even got you your own fifa."

You frown, still smiling. "Amor, I can't play fifa."

"That's why I have my own controller." He points you at the boxes. "I'm teaching you how to play."

You feel his happiness and instantly feel really happy. He was doing this as a way to spend time with you and to let you into his favorite things to do.

When you do your makeup, he will try to ask you what for is everything you use, even if it's only mascara and blush. He would ask.

"And why do you wet the strawberry?" He asks.

You laugh, taking the water excess out of your strawberry shaped sponge. "It's because if you wet your sponge, it gives the skin a more natural finish."

He nods, paying attention to your movements. You grab your concealer, applying some to your undereyes.

"I know what that's for." He smiles.

He looks at you with puppy eyes. You tell him about different things.

"Why are you leaving that white powder?" He asks, confused.

You chuckle. "This is called baking. It's a makeup technique." You smile. "I like how it makes my makeup look."

"And this other powder?" He points at the compact.

"It's bronzer. It's used to contour the frame of the face." You say, showing him how you do it. "I apply it on my nose to mark it."

He can't help his smiles.

"Can I help you with your blush?" He asks.

You nod, passing him the brush. "You can pick the shade." You show him the options. "I have rare beauty, I have fenty, I have some bissu." You place the blushes in front of him.

"I like this shade." He grabs the blush. "Can I use this?"

You nod. "Si, dale."

You love how he's so careful and caring. Kissing your nose when he's done. He grabs your hips, making you turn back to the mirror.

"Do you feel bonita?" He asks. Remembering the tik tok sound. You nod, smiling at him. "Wonderful because you look bonita." He hugs you.

He's the type to watch you do your skincare routine. He would stare at you in awe.

You apply your cream, feeling a lot better now that your skin is clean and your fresh. You feel more relaxed.

You turn back to the room. Finding Pedri's eyes focused on you. "You okay, pepi?" You ask him.

He nods, giving you a half smile. His eyes never leave yours. You smile back at him, turning back to the mirror to keep applying your next step.

You grab your last step. From time to time, you look over the mirror to where he is. You notice that his eyes are still focused on you.

You place everything back in order. Taking a last look in the mirror and walking out of the bathroom.

You walk over to where he is. Grabbing his cheeks and kissing his lips and forehead. "Night Night, pepi." You smile.

"Night Night, preciosa."

🏷: @gadriezmannsgirl

[miiyas]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MIYA !!

little birthday moments with him.

wc: 482, 401, post-ts, fluff, gn reader, may be ooc, slight proof read

ATSUMU MIYA loves his birthday. he’s very vocal about it, bragging to everyone about how he gets to have osamus homemade vanilla-yuzu cake and how he was going to get absolutely wasted with him today. and as much as he loves all the attention and gifts, he also loves you.

everywhere he goes, there always would be a reference to you. your favorite drink, the restaurant you so desperately want to go to, favorite shopping brand, the bundle of smiski blind boxes atsumu always finds himself buying for you— everything reminds him of you.

now, despite his actions towards you, atsumu isn’t one for cheesy sentimentals. he thinks he’d rather suffer through sakusas earful lecture of cleaning his room and which sanitizing products are best for his shared home with you then admit that he’s soft for sweet affection and care. so when you give him his small birthday present after his actual party, he’s a caught a little off guard.

“savin’ best fer last, huh ? what’didya get me ?” he hums, leaning against the bed frame. he watches you crawl back atop of his waist, big hands coming to rest on your hips as you hold the small wrapped gift. it’s dark in your shared bedroom with the only source of light being from a lamp by your bedside.

atsumu almost reluctantly slips his hands off your sides and gently takes ahold of the present. it was no bigger than his palms, maybe a bit smaller, and it lacked weight. with sleep on his mind, the blonde carefully peels off the wrapping with blunt nails, tired eyes widening as he sees a small golden locket drop onto his stomach.

“it’s a keychain.” you whisper to him, picking it up and handing it back in his bigger hands.

“i wanted to get you a necklace so we can match, but i figured because of volleyball, you wouldn’t be able to wear it around as much.”

as you explain, you could see your boyfriends eyes prick up with tears ever so slightly which only engulfed panic in your system. the blonde brushes it of, telling you that he ‘ain’t cryin’ !’ and thumbs the tears away, opening the locket with a hand with a soft click.

“.. there’s nothin’ inside..” he mumbles, a little disappointed to not see your pretty face already displayed. that’s when you tug out your matching necklace already looped around your neck, opening it up to show its similar emptiness.

“i wanted to print stuff out with you tomorrow. y’know, i have your face on mine and—”

“i have yers on … mine.” atsumu finishes the sentence for you, his words a little drifted off as his thumb grazes along the intricate lines on the metal.

atsumu knows for a fact that he fell first and harder, and he can’t help but feel it happen all over again.

OSAMU MIYA doesn’t wish for a lot of things on his birthday.

the only few things he wishes for are for the prices of onigiri ingredients to go down, find a bigger mattress for the two of you, and maybe get sponsored by a good kitchen utensil company and get some free goods. other than that, he likes to think that he’s content with the things already given in life.

he also wishes for people to stop teasing him for taking the second slice of his own cake.

there’s been a small birthday ritual the twins had been doing since they were younger— to give the first and second slice they cut to the people they care about the most.

first slice would always and forever belong to their ma, no matter what. that much would never change. second slice normally was given to one another, but osamu had soon gone irritated with the fact that his brother would always purposely make him take the best slice, only to hand it off later. so overtime, osamu had began to claim the better slice for himself, saving it and giving the third slice to his twin.

he doesn’t think he’s being greedy, just reasonable and fair.

but after starting to date you, he subconsciously sees himself handing you the first bite to all his meals, sharing a bento box when normally he would glare at those who want a bite, and letting you enter the kitchen whenever he’s at work in it which is a surprise in itself.

so when greedy-glutton osamu hands you the second slice to his cake, you’re a little taken aback.

“.. want me to hold onto it for you ?”

you sit right beside him by the table and osamu shakes his head, sliding the plate closer in front of you. there’s a soft look behind his pretty hooded eyes that makes your ears burn red, the atmosphere around you growing quiet until it was just your boyfriend voice you could hear.

“i wan’cha ta have it.”

you blink, eyes wide as you watch your boyfriend continue to slice through the cake with his twin before handing the slice to one another. your lashes flutter as you look down at the plate, you realize how generous of an amount you had received.

osamu likes to say ‘i love you,’ but he loves to show it more.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Slasher Handler Part 11 - Slip Lead

Slasher Handler Masterlist

Read on AO3

NSFW under the cut.

CW: Implied stalking/surveillance, implied kidnapping, physical injury, deception/emotional manipulation, physical violence, injury with knife, genuinely not enough information, hidden weapons

Something about stabbing him, about meeting Price, has resulted in you being able to stray a bit farther from Simon’s orbit. You’re still on a rather short lead, there is a list of unspoken rules between the two of you as long as your arm. But you’re going out alone more. You don’t feel Simon’s eyes on you every moment he’s out of your sight. It’s weird.

But when it comes to Simon, it’s best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. So you start a routine of going to the cafe down the street twice a week or so to work and see other human beings. It’s surprisingly difficult, some days. More than once, you’ve felt too exposed and retreated back home. These days, you have more good days than bad. As long as people don’t talk to you too much, you’re fine.

So it’s a bit jarring when someone clears his throat while you’re wrangling spreadsheets.

The man is in a light jacket, tee shirt and jeans. Looks like he works out. Kind of a stupid haircut, but he’s at least committed to it. Very distinct looking, Simon’s voice says in your head, easy to track. Unlikely to cause problems.

Something about him makes the hair on your arms stand on end.

“D’ya mind?” he gestures to the chair across from you. At your skeptical look, he rushes to assure you, “ Jus’ fer mah coffee, ‘n t’read,” holding up a thick paperback. He gestures to the rest of the cafe. “Wouldnae bother you, but this’s the only open chair.”

The shop is unusually crowded. You frown up at him. “I’m really busy.”

“Willnae hear a peep from me,” he promises, setting down his coffee and pulling out the chair across from you. He turns the chair so he’s facing more of the room instead of the corner you’re in. And he opens his book.

You watch him for a minute, but he doesn’t look up. It’s hard to shake the feeling that something is wrong, but you do need to work. With a last wary glance at him, you settle your headphones over your ears - transparency on - and get back to organizing a data set that reminds you of a ball of duct tape.

It’s time for a break before you know it. Your companion, true to his word, hasn’t said a peep since he sat down, more than an hour ago. He barely looks up as you close your laptop before turning back to his book. He does look up when you flag down one of the servers.

“Lunch,” you say, inanely. To the server, you say, “Can I get the chicken sandwich today?”

“Chips ‘n a lemonade, yeah?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

They turn to your table mate. “And for you?”

“The same, ah guess?” He raises his eyebrows at you, like he expects you to give him permission or something. He looks back at the server. “Yeah, a chicken piece for me, as well. ‘Nd a juice?”

“Separate checks?”

“Aye, ta,” the guy says. When the server leaves, he blanches. “Hope you dinnae mind.”

You do mind, but it’s not like he can sit anywhere else right now. “It’s fine.”

He sets his book on the table, and your eyebrows shoot up. Whatever you thought he’d be reading, Jurassic Park wasn’t it. He grins. “Ah ken. It’s old, yeah? But it’s a damn sight better’n the movie.”

“Isn’t that how it goes,” you say, vaguely. 

But you’ve already fallen into his trap. He turns his chair to face you, crossing his arms and leaning into the table. His eyes are unnervingly blue - somehow even bluer than Simon’s - and bright with interest. “’M serious. It’s not just that a character yells in the movie and speaks softly in the book, aye? In fact, the movie made Dr. Sattler older, aye? Great choice, emphasize ‘er expertise.” 

Aging up a woman character? You’re reluctantly intrigued. “She was a less important character in the book?”

“Nae,” the man scoffs. “She’s probably the first o’em to realize how shite the whole thing is. Notices things. Stuff the other’s aren’t payin’ attention to because she’s the plant expert, an’ naebody pays attention to plants.”

You find yourself drawn in, in spite of yourself. Johnny, as he introduces himself, has obviously been waiting for a chance to talk about it, but he’s not pushy. He excitedly pulls a pen from his pocket to doodle along with his explanations. By the time your food has arrived, he’s convinced you to at least try the audiobook.

“I cannae pay attention stuff in mah ears,” he says with a grin as he starts to dig in. “But I hear good things, if you don’t ‘ave time to sit an’ read the text.”

As you nod along, you look up and almost choke on your next swallow. Simon is outside, looking at you through the window with raised eyebrows above his usual black surgical mask. His eyes flick to give the man at your table an obvious once over. And then he turns away and walks out of sight.

“Ye alrigh’?” Johnnys’ eyebrows are up near his hairline when you look back at him. “Ye look like ye’ve seen a ghost.”

“Y-yeah,” you say, torn between staying seated and the urge to run after Simon. You can’t help but look at the window again, but he’s gone, there’s nothing for it. “Sorry, I thought… Sorry. Yeah, I’ll get the audiobook.”

When you get home, Simon is on the couch, the TV on with the volume low. He watches you, like he always does, as you take off your shoes and shuffle around to put away your things. When you finally join him on the couch, you find that he’s watching a nature documentary. A crocodile slides under the water with barely a ripple.

“He was only sitting with me because there wasn’t anywhere else,” you rush to say.

Simon turns to cock his head at you. “You get ‘is name?”

“John. Johnny,” you answer. “He told me about his book, but I left as soon as we were done eating.”

“Good,” he says with a nod. He lifts the arm closest to you, pulling you close as you settle into his side. “’S good to have friends, Precious.”

“He’s not a friend. Just some guy out to lunch like everyone else.” 

“You let him stay,” Simon points out. He squeezes you in a rough approximation of a one armed hug. “Been nervous around people, but you’re gettin’ better.”

This isn’t what you expected. You can’t help but side-eye him. “You’re… proud of me?”

Simon’s lips press gently against your forehead. “’S long as you pick better this time, I don’t mind you ‘aving friends. Can’t keep you all to myself forever. ‘Sides, you’ve marked me proper, ‘aven’t you? Got me as your little pet. Johnny’s not gonna be a problem.”

The little pink scar around his ribs is little more than a raised line. You slide your fingers under his shirt to pet at it. Among all of his scars, it’s one of the smallest. You’d cried the first time he’d let you see under the bandages.

“You’re not a pet,” you grumble, leaning your head on his shoulder. “You’re an alligator who won’t leave my house.”

“Your alligator, now,” Simon agrees. He focuses back on the television, seemingly done with the conversation.

You could leave it at that. But you turn to face him, instead. “You’re not mad?”

“Not unless ‘e ‘urts ya.” Simon presses his lips against your hair. “An’ I wouldn’t let that ‘appen.”

The following week, though, he stands over you with an exaggerated grimace at how crowded the place is. “Och, d’ya mind?”

Johnny is there the next time you go to the cafe. He waves from his table, but ducks back into his notebook without waving you over. So you work from your own table in peace. When you take a break for lunch, he’s gone. Two days later, it’s the same. It’s easier to concentrate, now that you’re less worried that he’ll take the conversation from the other day as an invitation. 

With a sigh, you clear some space for him. But just like last time, he keeps to himself, reading and occasionally jotting things down in his notebook. It’s not until just before lunch that he breaks the silence.

“D’y’ve a boyfriend then?” You can’t keep yourself from cringing fast enough, apparently, because he laughs. “Sorry, sorry, shouldnae asked.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you grumble.

“Aw,” he coos. “Don’ worry hen. You’re right bonnie. Ah’m sure they’ll come around, whoever they are.”

That would be sweet, if it wasn’t so painfully off base. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Oh, you’re right done wit’ me,” he laughs. “Ah ken’t I shoulda kept mah mouth shut. Ma always said runnin’ mah mouth would get me into trouble. I won’t bother ye again.” 

You roll your eyes. “It’s fine. I just don’t want to talk about it.”

He doesn’t push, and you’re grateful. But when it comes time to pay for lunch, he insists on paying. It grates on your nerves. A gift from a guy is never just generosity, you learned that long before Brandon. But you clench your jaw and pack your bag up a bit more roughly than usual and say your goodbyes.

“They didn’t have the brownies you wanted,” you announce as you return home from the grocer, two days later. “I think it was a limited edi…tion…”

You notice Simon watching through the window, but he’s there and gone before you can get a read on his expression.

There’s a smattering of blood on the entryway carpet.

You don’t drop the bag with the eggs, but only because your muscles are locked up. Did someone break into the apartment? Was Simon here when they did, or next door? Did they leave? Did he take them?

A sound makes you gasp before you bite your tongue hard enough to taste blood. And then again, a muffled groan, close, from the direction of your couch. 

It’s not Simon’s voice.

You gently set your bags down and reach behind the coats for the blackjack Simon insisted on leaving there for security. There’s a rustling. Another groan. You stoop low, trying to make yourself a smaller target, and creep around the edge of the couch.

When you see Johnny, bound and gagged, shirt covered in blood where he lies on the floor, your stomach drops so fast you feel dizzy.

“No, no, no, no, no,” you whisper, dropping the jack with a thump. You crawl over to him, looking around frantically. Simon is nowhere to be seen. But he did this. He had to have done this. Right?

Johnny twitches, groans again, eyelids fluttering open. When he sees you, his eyes go wide, and he frantically tries to sit up.

“No, don’t! I don’t know where you’re hurt,” you hiss. You reach around his head to untie the cloth that’s gagging him. “Oh my god-”

“We gotta get out’f here, bonnie,” he grunts, leaning into your hands as you help him upright. He spits blood on the floor. “No tellin’ when that mental bastard gets back.”

“Oh god,” you whisper again, touching the front of his shirt. It’s dark and sticky in a bloom across his chest. “Where are you hurt? Did he stab you?”

“Ah’m okay,” he grunts. “A bit banged up, but ah’ll live.”

You swallow down the urge to vomit. “There’s a lot of blood, Johnny.”

“S’nae all mine,” he answers. “C’mon, untie me, before Simon gets back.”

You’re shifting to reach behind him before your mind catches up. You can feel the blood drain from your face. “W-what? What did you say?”

“We need to get out of here!”

“No, you said his name, you called him - ”

“Simon? That’s what ye called him when you came home,” he hisses. 

“No, I didn’t,” you whisper, body stuttering between frozen and electrified. You never call Simon’s name where others can hear. “And - and I - you - you were unconscious.”

Shining blue eyes stare into yours from two inches away. Johnny’s bloody mouth curls into a smile. “Oh, he’s trained you up good, he has.”

You scream when he lunges forward, huge arms grabbing at you. 

His weight crushes the air out of your lungs when your back hits the ground. You twist under him, using the arm he hasn’t trapped to grab his hair and yank. He swears, and loosens his hold just enough that you’re able to free your other hand and jab him in the throat.

You expect the way that he chokes, but the hand he’s twisted in the back of your shirt stays locked tight. He coughs out a frenzied laugh as you twist. Your heart races as he prevents you from getting your knees up between your belly and his. But he doesn’t expect you to hammer the heel of your boot against the back of his knee, or how you use the leverage against his leg to roll away onto your belly. 

He doesn’t let go of you, but that’s fine, that’s okay, as long as you can reach under the edge of the couch. Johnny pounces, body curling around you without quite pinning you down. His fingers twist into your hair in an echo of how you wrenched at him. But he doesn’t stop your hand, grabbing the leg of the couch and then reaching under and up and-

“Try again, Bonnie,” Johnny chuckles into your ear when your hand meets nothing but cotton and wood.

Your heart doesn’t have time to stop. The grinding pain between your hip bone and the floor makes you pop up your pelvis and reach down. The tiny knife, Little K, jumps to your hand. It’s so easy to flick it open, you think you almost cut your own belly as you heave. Johnny rides you for a moment, then pops up onto his knees to let you roll freely.

You don’t have time to decide, gut or femoral, you just swing. Denim parts, pressure - 

Johnny yelps.

His weight is suddenly gone, and the arc of your arm slams the back of your hand and your elbow onto the carpet. It’s a shock, almost hard enough to make you drop the knife. You flick your eyes around, nearly blind with tunnel vision, and see Johnny standing over you. His jeans are slashed, outer thigh almost to crotch, but you can’t see blood, fuck.

He sways, oddly. Is your vision swimming? He doesn’t descend on you again, though, just laughs and wiggles. One of his feet isn’t on the ground, his injured leg is dangling, did you get him?

You imagine you can see Simon’s face, a little angry and a little amused. If you die here, Johnny will live to see his own intestines, you know it. Even if you survive, he won’t. Simon might gift you another skull. The thought almost has a laugh bubbling out of you. 

“You stupid motherfucker,” you hiss. 

“Oh, now you’ve done it.”

Simon’s voice startles you into action. You’re off your back and scrabbling backward in and instant as he manifests behind Johnny. Except, you realize, that Simon is holding Johnny up, one arm snaked under Johnny’s and hand around the back of his neck. That’s why Johnny looks off balance, it’s because he is, because Simon is here, he’s going to save you-

“Did real good, Precious,” Simon says with a grin. “Knew you’d get along.”

What? “What?”

Simon says something else, but you can barely hear him over your heart pounding in your ears. But you hear it when Johnny laughs. You see when Simon releases him with a ruffle to his mohawk and a shove toward the armchair. Before you know it, Simon’s scooped you into his arms and taken his usual seat on the couch. He pries the knife from your hand and snaps it closed. 

“Told you I was thinkin’ of gettin you a dog,” Simon rumbles, sitting you in his lap so your back is against his chest. Before you can protest that no, he never once mentioned a fucking dog, he continues, “This’n’s mostly ‘ousebroken, already. Soap needs a firm ‘and, but you c’n ‘andle him. 

Soap? What the fuck does soap have to do with anything? What kind of a name is…

"Oi!” Simon barks. “Off the furniture.”

Your stomach drops as you remember John Price, two months ago now. “Soap’s supposed to be my troublemaker, not you.” Soap.

When your wide eyes swing to him,  Johnny’s face is split into a toothy grin. He tips his head back against the seat of the arm chair. One of his hands touches the blood blooming through his jeans and brings it up to his lips. He laves his tongue over his fingers. “Ah’m lookin’ forward to gettin’ to know you, Bonnie.”

A part of you wants to get up and slit his throat. The rest of you slumps back into Simon’s chest and bursts into tears.

[usiel21]

The courting gift.

Thing: What about a diamond?

Wednesday: Don't be ridiculous Thing, Enid is worth more than any mere dia-

Thing: Oh no, i know that look.

Wednesday: Thing you are a genius.

Thing: ...This isn't going to end well.

1 Hour Later...

Wednesday: Enid, a family matter has arisen that i must attend to, I will be back by the end of the weekend.

Enid: Uh yeah sure, everything okay?

Wednesday: (Pause) Yes, it cannot wait. Don't wait up and if i shan't return, burn this school down and everyone inside.

Enid: Wow... you're such a psychopath! (Giggles)

Wednesday:

Wednesday: Flattery will... it won't... (Sigh) Los halagos no te llevarán a ninguna parte cuando ya me has capturado, en cuerpo, mente y alma.

Enid: (Smiling widely) I Love you too!

Wednesday: (Quietly) Do not jest with your words Mi loba.

Two Days Later...

Enid is stood in the common room of Ophelia Hall, watching the news with Yoko and Divinia.

News Presenter: ...We have some upsetting breaking news, The Tower of London was broken into last night where thieves took the Koh i noor, a diamond that was set in the crown of the Queen Mother. With an estimated value of Three Hundred Million Pounds, the jewel is said to be priceless. The Metropolitan Police in conjunction with Palace officials have confirmed that currently there are no suspects, this is without doubt one of the greatest heists in history, although authorities are baffled that only one item was taken.

Enid: Wow... what kind of person would steal from a dead woman's crown. (Shaking her head) Anyway laters, Wednesday is due back at any moment!

Yoko: (Grinning) Like a puppy eagerly awaiting their owners return at the door.

Enid: (Blushing) Shut up. Anyway i'll see you later!

Enid rushes up a flight of stairs, two steps at a time, a bounce in her step. She had missed Wednesday. She had missed her so much. She pushes open the door making Wednesday flinch.

Enid: Wends!

Wednesday: (Turning around sharply, hiding something behind her back) Mi loba.

Enid: (Narrowing her eyes.) What's behind your back?

Wednesday: ...Nothing.

Enid folds her arms with a pointed glare and tilt of her head.

Wednesday sighs, knowing she can't lie to Enid, not anymore, brings the item in front of her.

Enid: Wednesday... please tell me you have a really, really good reason for having the fucking Koh-i-noor in our dorm room???

Wednesday: (Weakly) I stole it for you. I planned to give it to you this coming full Moon. To court you.

Enid:

Enid: Wends... all you had to do was ask me out for a coffee or something, not commit the greatest heist in living history! (Tearily) But oh em gee, you did this? for me?

Wednesday: I would do anything for you, my fierce, fluorescent wolf.

Enid: (Preening and blushing) Oh my gosh... I'm going to have to get used to that huh?

Wednesday: (Striding forwards) As long as I breathe every breath will be spent making sure you never feel unloved ever again.

Enid: (Squeaking as Wednesday gets within several inches of Enid's face)

Enid: You...I...uh... you love me?

Thing:

Thing: Oh fer fuck sake, just propose already!

45 Mins later...

Thing: These lesbians, i can't anymore. They keep making googly eyes at each other from across the room and smiling, a hand can only stand to watch so much you know?

Weems: Wait... Wednesday AND Enid???

Thing: YES!

Weems: Wednesday smiling?

Thing: YES!

Weems: (Muttering) God help us all...

(The Koh-i-noor is never found)