#sniff each other through the doors

[grimalkinmessor]

Put Light, Mello, and Beyond in a room together and they will IMMEDIATELY start fucking fist fighting but if you leave them in there TOO long all of a sudden you've got an unstoppable trio of mentally ill homicidal twinks ready to be cunty and start a cult

[hopeforbountifulasks]

... it's never going to happen is it

[toast-in-a-cowboy-hat]

Honestly, shout out to whatever the hiring process is in the Compound that they looked at 2 of Britain's most autistic dorks and went "Hmm yes, those two need to be bound together for the rest of their lives" and damn, ya know?

They were correct

10/10, no notes, godspeed 🫡🫡🫡

[slashhinginghasher]

Into the Cricketverse - Spring Break

Cricket and Marena first meeting let's goooooo

This was supposed to be a "miscommunication teehee" piece but it turned into angst at the end whoops

As always, Cricket belongs to the phenomenal @thesightstoshowyou

~

Spring break meant a month spent in Jesse’s penthouse in the Florida Keys. Having never been to college, or any school really, the concept held no weight in Marena’s mind, but apparently it was like Christmas for Chromeskull. The massive influx of visitors from all across the country made for a bounty of easy prey, and the cops’ attempts to control the chaos of the drunken partiers kept them too busy to worry about some pesky murders - at least until the tapes started rolling in a few weeks later. For Marena’s part, it meant people in brightly colored clothes making a lot of noise on the beach below while she watched from the security of the penthouse’s lofty patio, getting her brains fucked out multiple times a day as the excitement of the hunt cranked Jesse’s libido up to nearly unmanageable levels, and a lingering worry that the Miami homicide department would somehow sense she was back in the area.

She would never understand how Jesse returned to the same murder spots again and again with such confidence. The mask helped, she supposed.

Marena was curled up with a book on one of the sitting room sofas while Jesse showered off the sweat from his morning workout (mercifully, one involving his private gym and not her today). She’d started reading a lot more, in both English and Russian, after being acquired by Jesse, and what had once been a laborious task was now something she actually enjoyed. The novel before her, though, was dense and confusing enough that she felt like she was twelve years old and just learning to read all over again. She’d had to start making notes on a scrap of paper just to keep track of what the hell was going on.

The lock on the front door clicked open. Her head jerked up at the sound. The maintenance staff for all of Jesse’s properties were strictly on-call - no regularly scheduled visits, lest someone walk in on something they shouldn’t see. Was it the cops? The FBI? She’d have expected a battering ram in that case, although it wouldn’t work on the reinforced door.

Setting her book down on the coffee table, Marena slipped her hand into her pocket to grab her knife and listened as hard as she could. There were a few muffled shuffles and thumps, a brief murmur of voices. The shower was no longer running, but Jesse had a skincare routine that rivaled that of a high-class hooker, so it would be some time before he emerged. (She had mentioned the hooker thing to Jesse exactly once, and he’d choked her so hard she blacked out the next time they had sex, which was approximately two minutes after she made the comment.) She would have to be the frontline against whatever intruder was coming down the hall.

Asa fucking Emory walked in, carrying several duffel bags, trailed by a pretty brunette woman in a sage green sundress.

Marena’s spine stiffened as she locked eyes with the predator on the other side of the room. Asa’s face was an impassive mask, but she could tell by the flashing of his eyes that he was hardly thrilled by her presence. To say their first and only meeting had been… fraught would be an understatement. Much of it felt like a fever dream to her, being of neither sound mind or body at the time. Jesse had later told her that it was only his direct and insistent interference that kept her from being turned into one of the mutilated creations that Asa crafted at his torturemurder hotel.

But none of that explained what Asa was doing here now. Did he have some sort of timeshare on the apartment? Had Jesse invited him to join in on the spring break slaughter party? And who the hell was the woman clasping her hands nervously behind him?

“Marena,” Asa said icily.

“Dr. Emory,” Marena replied, equally glacial.

He glanced around the room.

“Where is he?”

“Shower.”

Asa sighed heavily through his nose, as though Jesse’s inconvenient hygiene schedule was Marena’s fault. The mystery woman bit her lip. She opened her mouth. Reconsidered, closed it again. Her eyes bounced between Asa and Marena. Beautiful eyes: one warm brown, the other mossy green. She took a small, fortifying breath and spoke up in a timid whisper.

“As-”

“Quiet,” Asa snapped, and she immediately shut her mouth again with an audible click, shrinking back into herself.

Marena felt a pit forming in her stomach. A phantom smell of perfume, sweat, and blood on the back of her tongue. She was gripping the knife so tightly she could feel the filigreed pattern of the handle imprinting itself on her skin. This was so, so not good.

Asa’s gaze was lingering on her bare neck. She’d had a thick leather collar the last time they saw each other. What did he make of its absence now?

The stalemate was broken when Jesse sauntered in, clad in nothing but his silk boxers and a towel around his neck. He grinned broadly, so clearly he was expecting the company and had conveniently neglected to tell Marena.

“Took your sweet time getting here.”

“You don’t get to lecture me about punctuality, Cromeans,” Asa growled.

Jesse chuckled, then looked over at the woman, who had straightened fractionally when he walked into the room but was still half hidden behind Asa’s broad shoulders.

“Aw, don’t tell me you’re getting all shy on me now,” he said, followed by an unfamiliar sign that must have been the woman’s name. She gave him a little wave and a quiet “hi”.

“Manners, Cricket.”

“Sorry, Sir.” The woman, Cricket, stepped fully into view and folded her hands in front of her. “It’s good to see you again, Daddy.”

Marena choked, on air or spit or her own incredulity. All eyes turned on her when she started to cough: Cricket’s quickly dropping to the floor, Asa’s as cold as ever, and Jesse’s dancing with mirth. The latter was smirking, that smug, shit-stirring grin he wore whenever he did something he knew would get under Marena’s skin. She glared at him while she tried to get her breathing under control, knowing he could read her face as easily as she could read his.

Fucking really?!

Fucking really, baby. C’mon, don’t you wanna try it out?

“There are so many things wrong with you,” she croaked. “What the fuck.”

There was a soft, terrified gasp from Cricket but Marena was already walking away. Jesse grabbed her arm as she passed and she tried to recoil - “don’t fucking touch me, god” - but of course he didn’t listen, reeling her in and planting a kiss square on her mouth before releasing her and sending her on her way with a swat on the ass.

Her shudder of disgust was almost entirely unfaked.

***

“You are far too lenient on her,” Asa groused after the door to the master bedroom slammed shut.

“Yeah, but she’s fun when she gets riled up like that.” Asa fixed him with a glare that had brought many a grown man to tears and Jesse rolled his eyes, knowing it would piss the other man off even more.

“You won’t be laughing when it’s your neck with a needle in it,” Asa snarled. He grabbed the duffel bags and stalked off to the guest bedroom, muttering uncomplimentary things under his breath. Cricket remained frozen in place, anxiously clutching at her locket. Jesse could see her brain working overtime trying to process what had just happened. She jumped when he tipped her face up with a finger under her chin.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked tremulously.

“Not at all, doll. She’s just shy.”

Cricket gave him a dubious look that made him laugh before schooling her face into neutrality.

“And Sir is… okay? With that behavior?” Oh, she was stressed stressed if she was referring to Asa as “Sir” when he wasn’t even in the room. Poor little thing.

“Doesn’t matter if Asa likes it. She’s mine.”

She mulled that over.

“That time Sir left me at the hotel overnight, he said he had to watch something for you… that was her?”

Jesse nodded. Cricket bit at her lip. He could tell she wanted to ask about what had happened that night, but she was a good girl. She didn’t survive as long as she had by prying.

“Okay. Thank you, D-” she cut herself off, indecisive.

“Just ‘Jesse’ to you now, doll. Unless you prefer it the other way, I won’t mind.” He winked. She blushed.

“I should help Sir unpack,” she murmured, and scurried off.

***

Two of Marena’s fingernails were chewed bloody and she was going to work on finger number three when Jesse crouched down in front of her perch on the window seat.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

What was wrong? What was wrong was that someone had ripped a figure straight out of her adolescence and plunked it down in front of her like some kind of sick threat. She had known so many girls who made themselves small and sweet, the only way they knew how to survive the men who led them away every night and gave them pain, and even then it was rarely enough to save them.

“Her name is just Cricket?”

“She doesn’t need any other name.”

Dehumanizing. Reducing woman to insect.

“She wasn’t with Asa that night.”

“I asked him to keep her out of the way. He can be rather… single-minded when it comes to Cricket, and I needed his full attention on you.” Jesse shook his head indulgently. “Not that it made much of a difference in the end, huh?”

The Marena of now was already far more domesticated than the Marena of eighteen months ago, but maybe that wasn’t enough for Jesse anymore. Maybe this was his subtle way of telling her what was in store, even though he was hardly a subtle man.

“How long has she been Cricket?”

“Asa’s had her for years. Since before I met him. She was actually part of my welcoming committee.”

Was that nostalgia on his face? Marena felt sick. Jesse noticed her expression and frowned.

“I haven’t touched her since we met, baby. That part of our arrangement ended the moment I laid eyes on you.”

Arrangement? Jesse tried to take her hands in his, but she snatched them away.

“I don’t care who you fuck, Jesse! That’s not the goddamn issue!”

“Then TELL ME WHAT IS.”

The issue was that the woman in the other room had given up her entire self just to be able to keep breathing, and Jesse expected Marena to do something as petty as hate her. The issue was that the fate she had railed so hard against, had been willing to die to escape, was coming for her no matter what. The issue was that he wanted to turn her back into a doll, and whether he succeeded or killed her, she lost either way. The issue was that he had always been on the other end of the knife, had never had to fight against being made into something lesser than himself. The issue was that all of her pain and fear and heartbreak meant nothing because he decided it didn’t. Her life wasn’t hers, it never had been and it never would be, and the latest reminder of that was cupping her cheek in his hand and staring at her like she was a silly little girl.

Please understand, she begged him with her eyes. I need you to understand.

He didn’t. He thought he did, but he was wrong. He thought she was jealous and lying about it for the sake of her pride. He would go out tonight and turn some other girl she didn’t have the bandwidth to care about into a carcass, and then he would come back and kiss her and fuck her and make her cum and she would like it and hate herself for liking it. They would fall asleep and she would have nightmares that left her chest and throat aching with unvoiced screams.

She let him kiss her without complaint before he got dressed, and again before he left the room. She slumped against the window and watched all the scurrying little ants on the beach below. She felt numb. Doll-like.

[yb-cringe]

happy day 3 of qaiden being missing. so do you guys think shes still in those offices? they did say she needed to stay there for ‘a few days’ but who knows how long that is. makes me wonder where else they plan on Moving her if shes going to irl be gone for awhile yknow?

[saturncoyote]

Had to draw our Iterator ocs meeting

I think their first meeting went great :-) we should totally set another playdate, what about friday ?

[lunadivino]

What I would give to put Alisaie and Trish in a room together

[catboy-joyfriend]

guys how do i get my vampire boyfriend and werewolf girlfriend to stop trying to kill each other i dont think i introduced and socialized them properly :(

[identityarchitect]

i still need to post about the blue right hand au ...

[disaster-zagreus]

Aaaaaaa i'm so conflicted. On the one hand I wanna know EVERYTHING about hades ii and on the other hand i kind of just wanna go in blind when it comes out. But that will probably take a looooong time

[liebelesbe]

One thing about me is that I make a lot of playlists. Another thing about me is that I have no idea how to make a playlist make sense.

[melanodis]

I've got a few animatronic requests in my backlog but. send me all your weems also :3

[riflemikey]

If there was a guy installing flooring at my apartment and I made an appointment with another guy to fix the boiler and he showed up while the flooring guy is there will they like fight

[bpmiranda]

I can’t get the idea of Logan having ruts and going feral because of his mutation out of my head lol. Could you write a quick story about the reader having to experience that for the first time please? Thank you!

Let Me Help (Logan Howlett) nsfw

A/N: 18+ f!reader, nonmutant!reader, feral!logan, mentions of breeding, oral f! receiving, rough sex

For about two days now, Logan had been avoiding you. You weren’t quite sure what it was that you could’ve done to upset him that much, but you felt insecure in yourself as the most attention he seemed to want to give you was a quick peck on the cheek before you both parted ways in the morning.

What Logan had not told you in the time you had started seeing each other was that due to his mutation, he often experienced the same behavioral changes as an animal. He couldn’t possibly bring himself to put you through this, however, not his sweet girl. But Logan didn’t count on you being so tenacious.

“Lo,” You murmur quietly from the hallways as you peer at him sitting in the living room where he’s smoking a cigar and drinking a beer when he should be in bed with you by now. His eyes meet yours and he offers you a kind smile. “Don’t you want to come to bed?” You ask, stepping out into the living room in the shortest pajama shorts you could find and a little matching camisole.

Logan inhaled sharply, the sight of you making him ache. His heart is beating fast and he feels the animal inside him urging to get out, to attack. “No,” He says curtly, turning away from you and closing his eyes, willing himself to hold his ground. Your bare feet pad slowly over to him and he wants to bolt for the door, but he also wants to slam you down on the couch and take you right there. “Sweetheart,” His tone is warning as you carefully move to sit down on his lap and straddle him.

“You haven’t touched me in two days,” You say sadly and his heart breaks. It wasn’t his intention to make you feel like he didn’t desire you, but he couldn’t trust himself to control himself with you while he was in this state. “Did I do something wrong?” You pout.

A small sigh escapes him and he set the cigar in the ashtray and his beer on the coffee table. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong, sweet girl.” He said as he let himself rub on your thighs. His eyes fall over your chest, your nipples are softly showing through your thin tank top, he can smell your natural scent, it’s making him uneasy. “I just - mm - I’m working through something right now.”

“Can I help?” You ask brightly, hoping you’ve figured out how you can fix things between you and your man. Logan smiles and shakes his head while thinking, you’re the only one that could.

“I can’t ask you to help me with this, sweetheart.” He says, grunting softly as you move in his lap and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Logan?” You murmur, your hands running through his hair as he rubs on your ass. “Do you still find me attractive?” Your eyes are welling with tears and Logan knows he’s fucked up when he hears you sniff.

With a sigh, he pulls you back so that he can hold your teary face in his hands and he gives you a sympathetic look. “Of course I do, Y/N, you’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen walk this Earth. I can’t get enough of you, sweet girl.” He says as he kisses your nose and you give him a weak smile. “I’m in a rut, baby.” He finally says and you give him a confused look, thinking you know what he means, but he shakes his head. “And not in a dull routine type of rut. It’s, well, more animal than that.”

“Oh,” You murmur, knowing now exactly what he’s talking about. Your teeth bite down on your bottom lip and you place your hands over his and slowly guide them down to your breasts. Logan’s breath hitches in his throat and he goes to move away only for you to hold him there. “Let me help you.”

Logan shakes his head sternly. “No.”

“You won’t hurt me.” You insist, slowly rolling your hips into him and he growls lowly, his hands gripping your breasts making you hum in pleasure. “Please, Logan, I miss you so much.”

“Sweetheart, I can’t control that side of me. I’ll hurt you and not even know it.” He argues, making you pout, and he sighs. “Be good for me, okay? Just stay out of my way for the next three or so days, no more of these little outfits either. I’ll be just fine. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Y/N nodded sadly, still not moving off his lap, but letting him take his hands off your chest. “Can I at least have a kiss?” You ask innocently enough for Logan to smile and nod. Your hands latch onto his neck as you lean in and kiss him softly, slowly while he caresses your back and thighs. The taste of the cigar he was smoking and the beer he was drinking makes your mind fuzzy and you only want more, you want to savor every bit of him. Logan can’t pull away, and you don’t make a move to separate yourself either. Your hips begin to move again and he groans your name in a warning tone. “Please,” You breathe desperately against his lips and his hold is so tight on your thighs you can feel the bruises forming already. “Yes, please.”

“Damn it,” He growls as he takes control of the kiss and lays you down on the couch, climbing over you quickly as he devours your neck, marking you immediately and making you whimper underneath his heavy frame. “I can’t stop once I start, Y/N. Are you sure?” He asks as he’s already tugging your shorts off roughly, the smell of your arousal making his thoughts center around one thing only, and you nod quickly, gasping as he pushes your thighs to your chest to dive face first into your cunt.

You’re holding tightly onto the back of the couch, one hand gripping on his hair as he’s groaning and lapping into your pussy. The sound is so filthy, so desperate, as if he had starved in those two days, and you knew how big his appetite usually was on a normal day. “Oh, my God, Logan!” You moan, your head rolling back as you feel your walls clench around his tongue as it’s burrowing into you, not slowing even as your release with a light squirt.

“You always taste so damn good, baby,” Logan groans, lapping at your hungrily, petting your clit with his thumb while he’s got your knees in one hand to keep your legs elevated and together. “Like a plum, so fucking delicious.” His words make you tremble with pleasure and he’s still playing with your cunt, making your vision blurry as the stimulus of pleasure does not cease. A small whine falls out of your lips and he makes you swallow it as he kisses you hungrily, his tongue pushing past your lips and bringing your own tongue into to his mouth. “C’mon, baby, wanna feel that little pussy wrapped around me.”

Logan carries you to the bedroom where you spend the next four hours trapped underneath him.

“L-Logan!” You scream as he’s plummeting roughly into you from behind. His hand is holding your head down into the pillows while the other one is spanking your ass between thrusts, groaning as he watches your ass jiggle from the force.

It’s your third orgasm, and it’s coming up fast, much faster than the first two. Your insides feel gummy and numb as his thick cock drives into your mercilessly, searching for the furthest depth at which he can fill you. “Fuck, you’ve got the prettiest ass.” He groans, suddenly stopping while he’s pressed right up to your cervix and he’s squeezing your ass making you cry. “It’s okay, baby.” He murmurs, pulling out to kiss your ass, bite it, spank it lightly and you can feel his cum that had been plugged inside you by his cock now running down your thighs. “That’s a damn sight right there.” He sighs and you feel a little embarrassed, mainly aroused at the way he’s contemplating your disheveled appearance. “Wouldn’t you love to be fucked full of my babies?” He asks sweetly as he fingers his cum back into your aching pussy.

“Logan, more, please.” You beg weakly, your voice hoarse from screaming and crying. Logan chuckles and he realigns his tip to your pulsing core which is already sucking him back in and he hisses at the feeling, the sight of you desperate for him.

“The things you do to me, sweetheart.” He growls as he continues his brutal pace from before and you close your eyes, hot tears slipping out of the corners as you feel him use you.

By now, your legs feel like jelly, they’re trembling something awful on his shoulders while he’s rubbing them tenderly, pounding into you roughly while cooing at you. Your eyes burn from the fresh hot tears flooding them and running down your cheeks, your cunt is overused and red from his incessant pace. “You’re such a helpful little thing, sweet girl,” Logan murmurs, leaning forward as he holds your knees against your chest to kiss you. You cry against his lips, your whole body shaking underneath this heavy weight as he’s rutting deeply and purposefully into you. “Look at you taking me so well, does it hurt?” He asks and you bravely shake your head, wanting him to use you. Logan groans, knows your lying, and he picks up the pace anyway, bearing his weight on your thighs as he lifts himself up slightly to jackhammer into your oversensitive pussy.

“Ah!” You sob, your mouth falling open as you take it, clutching tightly onto his thighs as he growls while spilling his seed inside you for the third time. “Ah,” You whimper as he pulls out of you. “More, please.”

Now you’re sitting in his lap, straddling him, and he’s telling you to take it slow while he’s fucking into you from below, unable to relinquish control. His hands are firmly holding you by the arms and he’s fucking you down into his cock, more tears spill from your eyes. Logan’s unbelievably aroused watching you cry and pout, your tits bouncing obscenely as he’s bouncing you like a doll. His little doll. “I love you so damn much, sweet girl.” He says, pinning you down on his lap so he can kiss you, tasting your salty tears and smiling as you kiss him back weakly, a meek cry coming from your throat. “You love me, baby?” You nod, leaning back in to kiss him again and you make out gently as you continue bouncing on him. “Goddamnit!” He growls, letting go of your arms so he can wrap his arms around your waist as he holds you against him and fucks his last load deep into you. Your head falls weakly on his shoulder as you wrap your arms around his neck, your pussy contracting around his throbbing cock as he spurts his cum on your walls.

A soft sob leaves your lips as he finally stills inside you and every ache and bruise consumes your body, but you love it. “You feel better?” You ask in such a soft whisper that tugs on his heartstrings.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I feel better.” He murmurs against your shoulder, kissing your neck softly as he can feel you growing heavy in his arms.

“I helped?”

Logan chuckles, scratching your scalp lightly as he kisses your cheek. “Yes, sweet girl, you helped.”

🤧😓🫠

[lice-haver]

The reason Percy and Jason fought so much in Mark of Athena was because there was no time for them to sniff each other through the door before introducing them

[bi-writes]

I imagine that Johnny's "uncle" instincts are so strong that he would do anything for the MOB and Simon's kids, it doesn't matter that "the kids" are cats. Also i think Simon would have a talk with MOB (and Soap) along the lines "if something happens to me he is the person who would take care of you". ~ i spend to much time daydreaming about this fic

mail-order bride

johnny watches with a careful eye as simon disassembles his rifle. he's methodical about it, very careful. he has a clear desk in front of him, and every piece that comes out has a place on the surface, a special spot that it must go.

"ye called fer me, LT?" johnny asks, knocking on the door gently. simon nods, not looking up from where he's sitting. he motions to the chair in front of the desk, and johnny takes a seat, hooking his thumbs into his tact vest and spreading his legs as he sits there. "what do ye need?"

"'ave somethin' ta say," simon mutters. "'n i'm gonna say it, and y'r gonna keep quiet and not interrupt me. and when i finish, ya aren't gonna say anythin' about it. and we aren't gonna talk about it ever again. say ya understand me, sergeant."

johnny swallows, shuffling in his seat before nodding.

"aye," he says lowly. "roger tha'."

simon sniffs, picking up the barrel and using a microfiber cloth to rub it clean. he leans back in his chair, not meeting johnny's eyes.

"tha' last op got me thinkin'," simon mutters. "thinkin' a lot." he sighs, deep from his chest. "wot would happen to my girls. if somethin' were to happen to me."

johnny purses his lips, his palms getting a little clammy. but he doesn't speak, because he's been ordered not to.

"and if tha' happens," simon continues. "i don't want anyone else lookin' after them except for you, johnny."

their eyes meet finally, and johnny swallows hard. it's a long gaze, and they hold each other there for a few moments to get an understanding of one another, to speak without speaking.

johnny stands, shaking his head. it's hard for him to believe that simon could die. he's unkillable. he's ghost. he's a man too capable of staying alive, too good at crawling out of early graves, that he doesn't understand truly what it is he's seeing in his lieutenant right now.

the thing in his eyes, he's just never seen it before. it's fear.

"simon."

your greeting as he steps through the front door immediately makes his shoulders relax. you're in the living room in nothing but one of his old shirts, standing there with a big smile on your face. his eyes rake down your body, over your bare legs and socked feet. your smile is bright and contagious, and he drops his bag off as you come closer to him. as always, your hands find the hem of his skull mask and slip it up and over your head, and you giggle when he blushes as you look over his face.

"you're so handsome," you whisper, and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. you lean up on your toes and kiss him warmly, smoothing your hands up his big arms and wrapping them around his neck. simon can't help himself; he slides his hands down your back and slips them up the hem of the shirt you wear, cupping your ass in both gloved hands and squeezing hard. you laugh into the kiss, pulling away slowly, meeting his eyes. he looks tired. he looks...sad. "simon...is everything okay?"

you swipe your thumbs under his eyes, smudging the eye-black there, and he just shrugs. he doesn't lie. it isn't okay, he isn't okay, and you kiss him again to say you're sorry, because you don't know if he would want to hear that.

"i, uhm...ordered a pizza," you say softly. "thought we could watch a really bad movie and eat gross."

simon smirks, leaning his forehead against yours.

"i'd like tha'."

as you're plating up greasy slices of pizza, simon passes a piece of paper to you. it's an index card with a phone number on it and an address. the address is far, really far, and you lick the sauce off your finger before looking up at him.

"what is this?" you ask, taking it from him.

"tha's johnny," simon murmurs. "if anythin' ever happens...if ya ever need me...'n i'm not 'ere--" you open your mouth to say something, but simon shushes you gently. "--if somethin' ever happens to me...you call johnny."

you purse your lips, meeting his eyes for just a second before looking back down at the card.

"nothing's gonna happen to you, simon--"

he cups your face in his hands, shaking his head. he's staring down at you, pleading, asking you to just do this for him, to just say yes, to not fight him on this one thing because he needs this.

you press the index card to your chest gently, nodding finally.

"yeah...okay..." you whisper. "i'll call him, simon. if something happens...i'll call him."

if something happens, if something happens, if something happens--

"simon," you whisper, grabbing his eyes again. he blinks, and you compose yourself when you see that glaze over his eyes, the slight shake of his bottom lip. you have never seen him this way. you have never seen him shake ever before. this was your husband. simon riley, made of nothing but dense rock and steel. but his thoughts are far away. his thoughts are somewhere else, seeing a scenario in his mind that you imagine may not be hard to think about, as if he's lived something like it himself.

the unknown. the despair. the aftermath.

the inevitable.

"simon."

your voice brings him back. he's back in the kitchen. he's back at home. he can hear the cats in the living room, the little bells on their collars ringing as they chase each other in little chaotic circles.

he's back with you. in his little bubble. he's praying to a god he doesn't believe in that it won't burst so easily.

"dont worry, simon. i'll...i promise i'll call."