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bbyquokka · 22 hours ago

Text

drunk

– jeongin is drunk - in more ways than one .ᐟ.ᐟ

pairing | yang jeonging x fem reader

genre | established relationship , smut – 18+ is strongly advised!

cw | jeongin is drunk , explicit language , face sitting , oral (f rec) , breast play , masturbation (m) , face riding , 'girl' is used , unprotected penetration

words | 2.7k ~ ( 2,776 )

notes | another piece i wrote when i went on a break! i dont write for jeongin enough :( i hope u all enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

m.list — tag list — you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

soft grunts and groans from beside you fill the space of the car you're currently driving.

the streets are somewhat quiet. the headlights from cars passing by blinding you but the night is calm and quiet which, for a saturday, is unusual.

what's even more unusual is for you to be driving around in your boyfriend's expensive car, with him being drunk and groaning in the passenger seat. his eyes closed as his temple rests against the cold glass of the window, providing some cooling relief to his sweat coated skin.

jeongin, chan, seungmin and hyunjin decided that tonight's the night that they’d go out and have a ‘lads night.’

you don't mind jeongin going out. you trust that he (and his friends) will care and look out for one another. you trust that, when one has one too many, they will stop it from becoming a disaster.

and that is the case for you.

jeongin can handle his drink–to some extent. chan texted you urging you to pick up your not-so sober boyfriend from the club, claiming that jeongin has had one too many shots and alcohol his body can handle.

“feels good.” you stop at a red light to look at your hazy boyfriend. his usual well-kempt hair is disheveled. a beautiful pink haze sits pretty on his glowy, sweat stained skin.

“what feels good, baby?”

“i love you, you know that right?” he mumbles, ignoring your question. you laugh softly and nod.

“i know. i love you too.”

“really?” he lifts his head up from the cold glass, his eyes wide and glistening, like a love sick puppy.

“really. forever and always, remember.” jeongin nods and leans over, hooking his long pinky finger with yours.

“pinky promise.”

“pinky promise.” you repeat with a smile. jeongin sits back in his seat, a grin adorning his facial features and making his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“i’m one lucky man, yn. i’m the luckiest man in this entire world! no.. wait, galaxy!” as the red light switches to green, you start to drive as you listen to your loved one babble on with himself.

after a few minutes of babbling, it falls silent. the only sound is the roar of the car engine and passing vehicles. you think nothing of the silence, until a few small breathy pants ring in your ears.

maybe he is sleeping? is your first thought until you hear a low, guttural grunt. your ears perk up at the sound. you quickly glance to the side. you can only see jeongin slouching in his seat, his head hanging low with his chin tucked into his chest, hair hiding his face.

you focus on the road. the roads may be quiet but that's no excuse to act stupid.

“hurts.” jeongin pants, his voice strained a little. you panic a little.

“what hurts, baby?”

“yn.. it hurts.” he mumbles. he looks up at you to catch your gaze but you keep your eyes on the road. “yn.. help me. please.”

his usual soft voice is now laced with desperation; like he is begging for you.

“tell me what hurts, darling.” is it his stomach? he is drunk after all, so maybe he needs you to pull over.

“help me.” he begs, on the verge of tears. you drive to a nearby car park, shutting off the engine and taking off your belt.

you look at jeongin. the pink haze has now turned red, spreading to his ears. his eyes are hazy and glassy. lips glistening from the saliva.

“baby.. are you ok?” you lean over to him, placing your hand on his thigh gently. he tenses under your touch.

“hurting.” he repeats. his breathing slowly becoming short and laboured.

“your stomach? if you need to throw up, it's ok to baby.” you squeeze his thigh as reassurance but that causes jeongin to let out a soft grunt and tense more under your hand.

“no.” he huffs, his patience running very thin. “it hurts.” you stare at him, utterly confused. with a huff, jeongin grabs your hand that's on his thigh and places it on his crotch.

“oh. oh!” his cock is straining against the rough material of his black jeans. he bucks his hips in the palm of your hand for some sort of friction but it's not enough to suffice and feed this hunger he has. “why.. how?”

“i..i dont know. i just… looked at you and now i feel so hot and bothered.” his chest rises up and down fast. he squirms in his seat, pulling at the fabric of his shirt as a way of saying ‘get it off me’

“i want to see you.” his eyes scan you, undressing and eating you up. you feel bashful and aware of his prying eyes. he takes his seatbelt off and struggles to unbuckle the belt of his own jeans. “take them off.”

“excuse me?” you stutter.

“take them off. your pants. off. please. i want to see you, yn.”

“we're in public, jeongin. anyone can see us!” you stumble over your words.

“the windows are tinted.” he states. an argument you lose in an instant. you can't deny, however, that his request has left you feeling a little tingly in the pit of your stomach. “please.”

you nod, giving in to him; as always. you take off your pants, throwing them to the side. jeongin watches you, eyes never leaving you as he licks his lips hungrily.

“c’mer.” rough hands grab your waist and pull you onto his lap. you have no option but to situate your legs on either side of him. his large hands reach behind you to grab the soft flesh of your ass.

“mhm.. missed you.” he murmurs as he massages, squeezes and plays with your ass cheeks. you chew your bottom lip gently, your body twitching every now and then. he buries his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. more guttural groans erupt from the back of his throat as he takes in mouthfuls of your scent. “smells good”

“we should go home. you're drunk.” you say in an attempt to stop him.

“’m fine.” he states. “just want to touch you some more, that's all.” his lips start to pepper kisses along the skin of your neck. they’re soft and gentle at first, but they’re quick to turn into hot, wet open mouth kisses where he leaves behind marks in the form of purple bruises and teeth.

“then can we go home?” you struggle to say due to you slowly losing your composure as jeongin attacks you sweet spots. his large hands playing and fondling with your ass cheeks, occasionally disappearing under the fabric of your t-shirt to stroke your growing hot skin.

“maybe. or maybe i’ll just devour you right here, right now.” he purrs. you shuffle on his lap to get comfy, your core throbbing and stomach tingling. your fingers dig into his shoulder blades as a way to help ground yourself.

“devour me? how?” you play dumb. your body tingles with pleasure. your core is throbbing and you can feel your slick being soaked up by your panties, creating an embarrassing wet spot.

“like this.” his seat falls back, taking you with him. in one swift moment, he manhandles you onto his face so you're straddling him. his large hands on your thighs, gripping them with force.

“baby!” you peer down at your hazy boyfriend, his head between your legs. you feel his breath fanning against your clothed core, the dampness in your panties intensifying with each puff of air.

“what?” he says nonchalantly.

“you're unbelievable!” you squeak in embarrassment. the lewd position you're in makes you feel bashful; even though it's not your first time like this with him but it is a first in public.

“and you smell good.” he groans. his long finger trails from your thigh, to your inner thigh and to your clothed core. he presses his finger against your core, against the wet patch on the fabric and hums in satisfaction.

“you're wet.” he states, feeling somewhat cocky and proud. “i haven't done anything and you're wet.”

“s-shut up! you don't have to state it. gosh, this is so embarrassing.” you whine.

“not embarrassing. hot. so fucking hot. you have no idea the effect you have on me, yn.” he peers up at you, his foxlike eyes boring into your soul. he turns his head slightly, planting open mouth kisses on your inner thigh, closing in on your core.

he runs his finger in between your folds, adding a bit of pressure when his finger bumps against your now swollen clit. with each bump, your thighs jerk and twitch. jeongin can feel you throb against his finger.

his own cock throbs at the sight, touch and smell of you. it's begging to be free–and it will be in due time.

“wanna taste.” he mumbles as he hooks his finger on one side of your panties and pulls the flimsy fabric to the side. if it wasn't for his patience being paper thin, he would’ve ripped them off you. the very sight and smell of you is driving him insane and it hurts. the cold air mixes and hits your slick folds, making you gasp. “holy fuck.”

you watch your hazy boyfriend lick his lips as if he is about to devour a meal. he brings your hips forward a little more. you buck at the sudden contact of his warm and wet tongue being pressed against your cunt.

“j-jeongin.” you moan out softly. he grabs the hem of your t-shirt, bringing it up to your lips.

“hold this.” he instructs against your folds. you bite down on your t-shirt, the fabric rises up and exposes your soft stomach and breasts.

his tongue is back on your cunt, lapping your slick and core like a dog lapping up water. he sucks and kisses your clit, rubbing the swollen bud occasionally with the tip of his tongue.

he grips onto your ass, pulling you down on his face more. you worry that you might crush him and try to resist but his strength overpowers you.

hot open mouth kisses on your cunt. jeongin slurping and panting like a dog in heat. his hips bucking in the air as he eats you, gathering your slick on his tongue. he whimpers and moans at the taste, his rough hands keeping all your weight on his face as you crush his skull.

your legs tense around him several times. his tongue slips between your folds and into your core. jeongin is a mess. a panting, pussy drunk mess as he tongue fucks your core until you’re sobbing.

once confident that you’re going to keep all your weight on him, he removes his hands from your ass. his large hands slide up the softness of your stomach to under your breasts where he grabs them roughly, one in each hand, to squeeze and toy with them.

your moans are muffled by your t-shirt. a damp patch forming from your saliva as you struggle to keep the fabric between your lips. your hands have found their way to jeongin's hair, pulling and tugging at the strands.

the air in the car is thick. the windows misting over with condensation. you don't want to be loud but you want to be at the same time.

the thrill of knowing that you're in public, having you pussy eaten by your boyfriend who is completely pussy drunk and fucked out because of you makes you tingle.

one of jeongin's hands leaves your breast to reach behind you. you hear him fumbling with his jeans, struggling to unbutton and unzip them. he grunts in frustration before lifting his hips up to pull down his jeans and underwear halfway down his thighs.

he shivers as his hand wraps around the base of his throbbing cock. he squeezes a few times before rubbing his thick, veiny cock. he treats himself by rubbing his pink head with his thumb, smearing the over flowing pre cum around his sensitive head.

he's a mess. you're a mess. his chin and lips are coated in saliva and slick. your body is hot and coated in sweat. the stimulation of everything is too much for you. you feel light and woozy but you don’t want the pleasure to stop. jeongin tries to time the strokes of his hand with the thrusts of his tongue inside you but he fails quickly, becoming uncoordinated and sloppy.

“not gonna last long. ’m sensitive.” he mumbles. you nod, unable to speak as you feel the same. your stomach is tight, a knot forming very quickly. his tongue leaves your hole to lick between your folds, his nose bumping against your clit.

you're just a sobbing mess. tears spilling for the corners of your eyes. your thighs crushing his skull. hands not knowing where to be placed for stability so you settled with one hand on the roof of the car and the other on the window, leaving a handprint behind in the condensation.

your only thought is how much (and how badly) you want to cum.

jeongin is no different. his cock is hot to the touch. tip sensitive and begging to be inside you. his hand isn't enough for him to feel satisfied and he knows it, but he wants to wait until he gets home to have his way with you.

“close.” he groans. as you open your mouth to talk, your t-shirt falls back down.

“m-me too.. oh fuck, me too.” you kick your head back, succumbing to the pleasure. you rock your hips a little on jeongin's face, a smirk on his face as he watches you lose yourself in the pleasure he's providing.

“you're so fucking hot, yn. look at you riding my face like a good girl.” his words are muffled but it's loud enough for you to hear. you can't respond however, just nod and moan at his words..

“feels good. feels so good, baby. wanna cum.”

“want to cum on my face? make a mess outta me?”

“yes. i do. want to make a mess on you.” you beg.

“go ahead. do it. cum for me, yn.” the coil in your stomach tightens and snaps. your thighs shake as your orgasm hits you hard, knocking the air out of your lungs and making you see stars. you cry out his name like a mantra, jeongin lapping at your core to catch your essence that spills from you.

his hand picks up in pace before soon, his own hips buck and cock throbs as he cums onto his own hand and stomach. slow, languid strokes of his cock to help ride out his high as he licks you clean before the high subsides; leaving you both breathless and exhausted.

you lift yourself up and off his face the best your jelly legs can muster. you look down at him, shivering as that look in his eyes from earlier is still there.

“we need to go home. now.” he instructs in urgency.

“are you ok?”

“no. i’m not. it still hurts, yn.” you look behind you to see his hand still stroking his cock, which has failed to go soft from his orgasm; but now it's angry. sticky sounds emit from his cock as he uses his own mess to stroke himself.

“jeongin…” you start only to be cut off.

“yn. i don't think you understand the urgency of my situation. if you don't drive home right this second, i am going to drag you onto my lap and fuck you until you can't walk in the morning.”

you swallow at his words. they go straight to your core.

“that.. doesn't sound like a bad idea..” you mumble, looking at your, now somewhat sober, boyfriend.

“i don't think you un–”

“no, i understand.” you mumble, removing his hand from his cock. you shimmy down to line yourself up, holding the base and rubbing his tip between your soaked folds. “and i don't mind. we've come this far, so why stop now?”

“...fuck.” he holds onto your waist as you slowly lower yourself onto his member. his size stretches you, and because of your earlier orgasm, you're tighter than usual.

he hisses as he shieths himself in your tight cunt. the warmth and tightness makes him stop breathing for a nanosecond. he watches his length disappear and become encapsulated with delicious warmth.

“just know–hng, fuck!–just know that you can't go back on your words. it's going to be a long night for you, yn.”

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bread-crum206 · 2 days ago

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A Game of Hearts

Chapter twenty-three: Beneath the Mask

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

previous | 23 | next

Series Masterlist

The evening was heavy with silence, the kind that fills a room like a storm waiting to break. You sat across from In-ho, your fingers absently tracing the rim of your glass, watching him as he worked through papers at his desk. There was a subtle tension in the air, one that neither of you had addressed but both could feel. It wasn’t the same distance as before—no, this time it was more like an unspoken wall between you. You could feel his eyes on you, every now and then, like he was trying to decipher something about you.

But even as he remained immersed in his work, there was an unsettling vulnerability to him, an unspoken weight hanging over his usually stoic expression. You knew he was lost in his thoughts. There were still cracks in his armor, though he tried so hard to keep them hidden. You couldn’t help but feel the urge to bridge the gap between you—to understand what he wasn’t saying, what he was keeping from you.

The hours had drifted by, the soft hum of the quiet night only broken by the sound of his pen tapping against paper. But you couldn’t ignore the knot in your stomach any longer. The connection between you, however fragile, needed to be addressed. You had no idea what this was—this pull you felt towards him, this subtle but undeniable thread of something more. But one thing was clear: you couldn’t keep pretending that things were fine when the tension between you both only deepened.

“In-ho,” you said, your voice breaking the stillness. It felt strange saying his name, but it also felt like the first step toward something more. You didn’t wait for him to acknowledge you before continuing. “I need to ask you something.”

His pen paused mid-tap, and he finally looked up, his gaze flicking to yours with a cool indifference, but there was a softness there now—something hidden beneath the hard mask. He didn’t speak, just gave you a subtle nod, waiting for you to continue.

“You’ve been pulling away,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “And I don’t understand why.” Your voice wavered, but you couldn’t stop yourself now. “What’s going on, In-ho? I feel like there’s more to you than what you’re letting on. You’re holding something back. And I… I need to know why.”

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze turning cold again, as though your question had triggered something within him. For a moment, he didn’t speak. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he folded his arms across his chest, his eyes now fixed on some distant point beyond you. The silence stretched between you both, thick and suffocating. You felt exposed in a way, unsure if you had crossed a line you weren’t meant to cross.

“You don’t want to know,” he finally said, his voice low, his tone flat. “Trust me.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, a chill running through you as the walls around him seemed to rise higher. But you weren’t going to back down. Not this time.

“I think I do want to know,” you said, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your chest. “I’m not asking to pry, but if we’re going to keep pretending like nothing is going on, then I don’t know how much longer I can stay here. I can feel it, In-ho. The distance between us.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you saw something flicker in his eyes—a flash of pain, fleeting but unmistakable. It was enough to make your heart race, even as he closed himself off again.

“Let it go,” he said, his voice sharp now, a command. “You’re better off not knowing. I told you before… this isn’t the life for you. The sooner you accept that, the easier it’ll be for you.”

But something inside you pushed back against that notion. You weren’t ready to let him shut you out—not when you could feel the depth of his emotions beneath that cold, calculated exterior. He was trying to protect you, but it wasn’t just that. You knew it. He was afraid. Afraid of losing someone else. Afraid of loving again.

“I’m not afraid of the truth, In-ho,” you said softly, standing up from your seat, closing the distance between you. Your gaze locked with his, and this time, you didn’t flinch. “You don’t have to protect me from it. I want to understand, even if it scares me.”

He looked at you then—really looked at you. His eyes searched your face as though trying to gauge whether you meant it, whether you were truly prepared for whatever he was about to say.

For a long moment, the tension hung heavy between you, the weight of his past pressing down on both of you. Then, In-ho stood up slowly, his movements careful, like a man preparing to reveal something dangerous.

“You think you want to know,” he began, his voice quieter now, as though he was telling himself more than you. “But the truth is… I lost everything once. My wife, my unborn child. I thought I had a future. A life. And then it was all ripped away in the span of a few months.” His voice cracked ever so slightly, but he quickly masked it, turning his back to you, walking toward the window. “It broke me. And now… now I don’t know how to love anyone anymore. Not like that. Not after everything.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the confession more vulnerable than you ever expected to hear from him. The realization that In-ho, the frontman, the powerful man who seemed to control everything, had been shattered by a loss so profound made your heart ache.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You wanted to reach out to him, but something told you he wasn’t ready to be held.

He shook his head, the darkness of the night outside reflected in the coldness of his eyes. “It’s not your problem,” he said, his voice laced with a quiet bitterness. “I can’t let anyone in again. You wouldn’t understand. You’re not part of this world. And I can’t—”

“You’re wrong,” you interrupted him softly, your voice trembling but determined. “I’m already here. I’m already a part of it. And I’m not leaving, In-ho. Not because of this.”

For a second, you thought he might say something more, but instead, he exhaled sharply and turned away from you, his jaw clenched tight.

“You should go,” he said, his voice thick with finality. “I have things to handle tonight.”

You didn’t say anything else. You simply nodded, heart heavy, as you turned to leave. But as you reached the door, you glanced back at him. There was something different in the way he stood��something that hadn’t been there before.

“I’ll be here when you’re ready,” you said quietly, then walked out, leaving the door slightly ajar behind you.

In-ho didn’t follow. He didn’t say anything more. But you knew, deep down, that something had shifted. Whether it was a step forward or a step back, you weren’t sure. But you could feel it—the quiet promise that things between you had just begun to unravel, for better or worse.

———————

Chapter twenty-three!! Wooow let’s goo! More progress?? As always lemme know what you think! Thank you! :)

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#in ho x reader #squid game #squid game x y/n #squid games x reader #x reader #arranged marriage #frontman x reader #marriage au #the front man #squid game x reader

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pretty-little-mind33 · 2 days ago

Note

I just wanted to ask if you could make headcanons about being in a relationship with Pietro (I don't remember if I already asked for that, and I'm sorry if I did, I'm not rushing you 😭😭), and another one with Sergai? It doesn't matter if it takes a while, I totally understand, and thank you for all your fics, I love them 💖💖💖

~ i hope you like this, darling 🫶 been on a tiny bit of a writers block so this headcanon list was a good thing to write! ~

• with Pietro, friends to lovers is the only way!

• he has trouble with his feelings. he has trouble understanding them because he becomes overwhelmed and so in the beginning, it's difficult.

• plus, he has trauma so loving someone else is hard for him— he doesn't like the possibility of loosing you like he lost his parents.

• so being your friend, becoming your best friend, is the first step!

• his love language is physical touch and quality time! He always has to be touching you in some way (his hand in yours, playing with your hair…) and he loves planning days out around the city with you!

• Pietro is very loving and he's also funny. he adores making you laugh and he'd do anything in his power to make you laugh when you're sad or crying or hurt (to distract you from the pain).

• once he's your boyfriend, the quality time becomes more domestic. he tries less—and not in a bad way. he's comfortable just laying around, reading or watching a show, and it's as good as planning a whole day like he used to (he would get himself worked up, the poor boy).

• when he does take you on dates, he goes all out now! He knows all your favorite things because he is observant so he'll take you to your favorite restaurant unprompted!

• Pietro's favorite way to spoil you is by doing things for you! He's very in tune with your emotions once he'd finally dating you!

• he never forgets an anniversary or a birthday, although you're worried he does because he's always spacey and all over the place 🥺 but he keeps a calendar specifically for your events, nothing else lmao.

• you and Wanda being friends is VERY important.

• he adores you and teaches you how to say things in Sokovian! he always teaches you about his culture and his traditions. it would take a while for him to open up, but once he does he doesn't hold back.

• he trusts you easily and he isn't jealous. he hates when other men flirt with you, but he is never jealous because he knows you are his and his alone!

• he is very protective over you though! like no one hurts his girl. ever.

* * *

warnings: mentions of sex

• i think the courting before the relationship would be involuntary stalker-ish 😭

• like he's obsessed with you. he can smell you everywhere! maybe he met you when he was visiting his brother in London and he hasn't stopped thinking about you and only you.

• for the first few months you don't even meet him and yet he's just there—watching. making sure you're safe.

• he never does anything weird or breach your privacy in ways that would make you hate him, he's just like your guardian angel 😏

• when he does talk to you, you're instantly intrigued. he's rugged and handsome and unlike any man you've ever met. you like him.

• your relationship starts with sex. you bring him to your apartment and have intense, weirdly passionate for someone you just met, sex.

• when you wake up, he's gone. but eventually he comes back with a pastry from a nearby shop and your relationship starts.

• Sergei is good at reading you and knowing what you're feeling without you needing to speak or ask him. he just knows.

• he visits London more than necessary to spend time with you, letting you be the second person on his phone 🥺

• he waits to tell you what he does for work. he doesn't want to scare you or make you feel unsafe.

• you are safe. you always are with him.

• once you know and you accept him for who he is, Sergei is wrapped around your pinky until you let him go. he would do anything for you.

• he has trust issues so whenever he starts an argument, it's because he was feeling a little insecure and didn't know how to bring up his feelings. his father never let him.

• he's never violent with you but he does yell in the beginning. which scares you, so he quickly learns to leave for a walk to calm down instead.

• you promise him that you aren't leaving him. he loves words of affirmation. he needs them because he hasn't heard many of them from his father.

• he's very gentle with you normally, touching you as if you are something to be worshiped. which he does. he worships you.

• his love language is gift giving. whenever he is away, he will always brings you back a present from his home in the woods. and it's always thoughtful.

• he will teach you some words in Russian and call you pet names in Russian.

• eventually, he asks you to move in with him. you're unsure because living in the woods is scary and you are afraid you'll miss your friends and family.

• Sergei doesn't force you. he tells you you don't have to decide immediately but he really wishes you will. but he's not forceful. he gives you time and he waits.

• when you decide you want to live with him eventually. and you don't regret it. Sergei is very devoted to you (he is very protective over you, duh). he also brings you back to London wherever you want, no hesitation.

#headcanons #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff headcanons #pietro maximoff x fem!reader #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff age of ultron #marvel #pietro maximoff fluff #sergei kravinoff #sergei kravinoff x fem!reader #sergei kravinoff x reader #sergei kravinoff kraven the hunter #kraven the hunter #marvel kraven the hunter #kraven the hunter x fem!reader #kraven the hunter x reader

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spookwriter-xo · 2 days ago

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Coppélia

Chapter 12 - The Muscle

Chapter Summary - the cobra is active once again, and someone close to Y/N has a target on their back.

warnings: mentions of murder

Series Masterlist

MINORS DO NOT GO BEYOND THIS POINT

I awoke the following morning to yelling from downstairs. It seemed the appearance of my father had caused some tension to arise.

"How did he even get onto the property? The guards know not to let him in unless we say so." I heard Wooyoung say, his voice strained from stress.

I could imagine the fallout. Not only the impact of me leaving halfway through my own party, but also the fact that the majority of the guests that were there hated my father equally as much. Seeing him supposedly invited to a party at the ATZ Manor could cause some damage to their reputation, or worse, cut ties with allies all together.

"It was a masquerade ball. He probably snuck in as a plus one." Yeosang answered Wooyoung, his voice indifferent. Yeosang had gone radio silent since our time in the library. He wasn't avoiding me, at least not on purpose, I suspected he was busy with work.

"With everything going on, why would he think it would be a good idea to show up here?" Mingi grumbles. By this time, I had made my way out of my room and was now hiding on top of the stairs. By the sound of it, they were gathered in the living room.

"He obviously wanted something. Yunho, did Y/N say anything?" Hongjoong asks.

"She didn't want to talk about it. Honestly, I didn't realise it was her father until she outright told me." Yunho says. I could imagine him sprawled out on one of the couches, his head resting on the arm with a hard expression on his face, his dark hair messy from sleep.

"She didn't say anything about why he could be here? Anything at all?"

"No, I don't think we have to worry about her. She wants nothing to do with him." Yunho says, his words causing a pang of confusion to prick at my stomach. Worry about me?

"Good, just in case, Yeosang can keep an eye on her since he's finished with his work." Hongjoong says, causing Yeosang to let out a groan.

"Are you really making me babysit? Yunho just said she's not a threat." Yeosang asks, his voice almost whiney.

"We don't know her well enough, she could be a spy." Hongjoong says.

"I think work is making you paranoid." Seonghwa says, his voice low in warning.

"Maybe you should all be paranoid." Hongjoong hisses, the sound of a chair scooting on the floor tells me he's stood up now. "The Cobra is on the move again, Y/N's father shows up uninvited to a party he shouldn't have known about. Not to mention, two of our generals were killed in their own homes."

"That still doesn't mean Y/N has anything to do with it!" Seonghwa argues, probably standing also. "Do you think she's the Cobra?" He scoffs.

Hongjoong laughs bitterly. "I don't know! It's possible, just like it's possible it could be one of us. But I trust you more, don't I? More then -" He stops when he sees me, now standing in the doorway of the living room with a heart broken expression.

Did they really think that of me? That I was a spy? Did Hongjoong not trust me even after all those nights we'd spent alone together?

The others turn to see me, Mingi and Jongho mirroring a saddened expression. The others just stared, probably not knowing what to do. Hongjoong looks down at his feet in shame.

"You're right," Hongjoong says, sighing deeply as he takes a seat once more. "I'm paranoid." He sounded more disappointed in himself, more than the fact that Seonghwa was right. I felt attacked yes, a little heartbroken sure, but I understood his worries.

He had a family here, one that I still needed to fond my place in, one that he needed to protect.

"The Cobra is back?" I ask, my hands fidgeting with the string of my night dress.

"A body was found last night." Mingi confirms softly, standing up and walking over to me. He reaches for my upper arms and gently rubs them with his calloused hands, giving my biceps a gentle and comforting squeeze. "Nowhere near here, but it was a his M.O."

"Were any of you going to tell me this?" I ask, glancing behind him and, for some reason, looking directly at Yeosang, who stared right back at me. It was like he was talking to me with his eyes, and I understood every word.

'Be calm, and all will be told.' Patience was never one of my strong suits.

"There's a lot to unpack." San says, the boy lounging in only a pair of sweatpants and a coat, his bare chest and abs distracting me for a breath moment.

"Like what?" I ask, moving away from Mingi and towards the empty spot beside Yeosang. "I want to know."

Hongjoong and Seonghwa share a look, before Seonghwa lets out a sigh.

"He's announced his next target." Hongjoong tells me, his expression serious. "It's someone you know."

"Who?" I ask, a sick feeling in my stomach.

"Mia Hua." Wooyoung answers for him, his voice soft but loud enough for me to catch the name.

"Mia? But she's not involved in this world! What would the Cobra have to gain from her death?" I question, my words coming out in a shout as I stand.

"Doll.." Seonghwa says, reaching forward, but I move away. I had to get out of there, a moment of peace to collect my thoughts.

The only girl who had been nice to me in 3rd grade, and had never left my side since. The girl who protected me, and gave me a home when life at home got too much. My best friend.

My sister.

She had a target on her back, and for what? Being a painter? Did The Cobra know I was searching for him already? Why has everyone I'm close to become a target?

Then it clicked.

Why did everyone I know become a target?

I made it to the library when I had my epiphany, the gears turning in my head, making it spin in turn. I hadn't noticed I'd been followed, not until his hands cupped my face.

Yeosang stared back at me, slowly bringing me back to earth with his gentle gaze. He understood the pain and fear. He had to have, especially with Aurora. I let my breathing settle, matching the patterns with his.

"There you are." He says gently, his thumb gently stroking my cheek. "It's okay, baby. Everything is going to be fine."

"It's me, Yeosang." I say, my breath heavy. "I'm the big target."

"What're you talking about?" He asks, his eyebrows furrowing. As I move towards the back windows.

"Everyone I know, every single target aside from Aurora I have met or known at some point. Yeosang, I'm a common factor." I say, starting to pace. "The Cobra has to be someone close to me, or someone associated with my family."

Yeosang stared back at me, genuinely considering my words. "I'll bite; if you're right, who could possibly be a mindless serial killer?"

"My father probably." I grumble.

"It can't have been, he was here last night." Yeosang says.

"When was the body found?"

"Early this morning." Yeosang answers, not missing a beat. It felt refreshing in an odd way.

"Do we know the time of death yet?" I ask next.

"Around 7:30 last night." He says, his voice going quiet as we both stare at each other. I could see the gears turning in his head now. "This is insane." He says. "As much as I hate that man, he's got too much going for him. Besides, would he really try and kill you or your sisters?"

I thought for a moment, sure he was a cruel father, but he'd never kill any of us.

"But you believed it." I say, taking a step forward. "Even if it was just for a second."

Yeosang relaxes his shoulders, looking away briefly. "If you're right.."

"Yeosang we could put a serial killer away!" I whisper, closing the gap between us and taking his hand. "The man who killed Aurora, the man whose been tormenting my family."

"That's not what I'm worried about. Not anymore." He says softly, his eyes gazing into my own again. "If it is your father.. Y/N that would destroy you, no matter how much you hate him."

I look down at our entwined hands. A small part of me didn't want to believe it.

"He is not my father." I say, "If putting him away saves whats left of my family then so be it."

I jolt slightly as I feel Yeosangs lips brush the crown of my head. "Just.. Let us do the dirty work." He whispers, cupping my cheek as I loft my head again. "I'm not letting history repeat itself."

I always had a feeling Yeosang was a romantic at heart, but this? This was a whole other level. I felt like I was in a movie with the way he was looking at me.

"I'm not going anywhere, Yeosang. You have my word."

I slept beside Seonghwa that night, the mans arm draped over my waist as he slept soundly behind me. My mind couldn't stay in one place, my thoughts muddled with worry. Hongjoong had agreed to allow Mia to stay in a safe house deep in the city. Mark would love with her for added protection, though I'm sure the only thing he could do was talk them out of it (To which I had faith).

I felt Seonghwas lips on my shoulder, just above the elastic of my night dress.

"Doll, you should sleep." He murmers. "If you keep worrying about one thing, you'll never have any new ideas about other things."

I pondered his words for a moment before speaking. "Have any of you ever had a target on your back?"

My question seemed to humour him, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

"All of us had, but they were empty threats." He says. "The only time the Cobra targeted one of us was after he killed Aurora." He says.

"He targeted one of you after?" I ask.

"Yeosang." Seonghwa answers softly. My eyes softened at the thought. They really couldn't catch a break.

"The Cobra went into hiding before he could make anything of it." Seonghwa continues. "Until now at least."

"Would he still come after Yeosang?" I ask, feeling Seonghwa hold me a little tighter against his chest.

"I hope not." He whispers.

a short one cause I've got two big chapters coming up! sorry I've been away for so long, I've been absolutely hounded by work right now, not to mention I start up again at Uni next week.

on a positive note; updates should return to normal once i set my routine up next week. so look forward to some more chapters! also, questions and feedback are always welcome! i love reading your comments!

taglist:

@bellaptv @arilevenatz @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @hecateslittlewitchling @starhwacore @neuviloved @monstacheol @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @vtyb23 @bigbabygremlin @professormingisglasses @nuggiesnuggetdog04 @pinuspot @astral-trashcan @ateezswonderland @joonhasjiminsjams @atzlordz @lightwxodd

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holylulusworld · 2 days ago

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Gap Filler (3)

Summary: Lack of communication leads to fallout.

Pairing: Walter Marshall x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, Walter being a douche, break-up, mentions of break-ups, amends, angry reader, unplanned pregnancy, mentions of calling someone daddy (nothing happens)

A/N: A short drabble to the miniseries.

Gap Filler (2)

“Baby? Y/N? Please open the door. The cactus is an aggressive beast. It tries to poke holes into my chest. The orchid, well, it won’t make it if it stays with me. You know I’m not good with soft things.”

Walter listens closely, hoping you’ll open the door and let him explain things to you.

“Go away,” you growl on the other side of the door. “I don’t want you anywhere near me!”

He sighs deeply. “Y/N, I know I fucked up big time, but please believe me, I love you. Rachel doesn’t mean anything to me. I lied to hurt you.” He sniffs. “I know it was stupid and selfish of me. It’s just… a woman left me for a job before.”

“Do not use your broken heart crap to excuse that you broke my heart!” You kick the door and curse his name. “Now get off my lawn.”

Walter chuckles. “Uh—your doormat is green, but I don’t think it counts as a lawn.” He comments as you throw insults at him. “Please open the door,” Walter whispers now. “Your neighbor is about to call the cops.”

“You’re a cop too,” you bite back. “Get your badge out and tell them to get fucked! "Annoying assholes!”

“Baby, open the door,” he murmurs your name, pleading with you to let him in. “Do not make me raise my voice.”

You snort. “As if you’d dare to raise your voice, Marshall. I’d love to see you try, fucker!”

“Stop swearing so much in front of our baby!” He tuts. “I can still kick the door open.”

“I don’t think so,” you snort. “It’s a reinforced door. Good luck breaking your back, old man!”

“Old man?” Walter hiccups. “Last time, you called me daddy because of the gray in my beard.”

“Marshall!” You rip the door open to size Walter up. “What are you talking about? That’s not true. I’d never call you that.” Wrinkling your nose, you huff. “That’s just ewww…”

He smirks as you realize your mistake. “Hah, it worked.” Before you can close the door, he stands in the door frame, keeping you from shutting the door again. “Y/N, please talk to me. I won’t go away, and it’s your fault if the poor plants die.”

You glance at the cactus pressed to his chest and the poor orchid he’s about to strangle. “Fine, give me the plants, but you can go home.”

Snatching the orchid out of his hands, you keep an eye on Walter.

“Baby, please let’s talk. I don’t want to go home knowing I lost you forever only because I was a fool,” he murmurs your pet name and gives you puppy dog eyes.

“No, this won’t work on me any longer. You hurt me to feel better.” You angrily wipe your eyes. “You told me you want to be with Rachel because you knew this is my worst fear coming true. How could I ever trust you again, or believe that you love me, Walter?

Walter drops his head and nods. “I used your fear against you. This is unforgivable.” He feels like the worst person ever as you look at him with teary eyes. “I let my hurt pride and feelings get the best out of me.”

“That’s no excuse for abandoning and hurting me. I admitted years ago that I’m scared of losing you to Rachel if she ever comes back. And you,” you growl at him, “used it against me.”

He nods slowly. “I knew the moment your luck was more important to me than mine that I was in love with you. When I got to know that they offered a better position to you, my worst fear came true. I couldn’t bear hearing you say that you will leave me.”

“Even if I’d have considered taking the position—” you sniffle. “Do you honestly believe I would have left you? I would have asked you to come with me, if possible. If not, I’d declined their offer.”

Walter stares at you, eyes filled with unshed tears. You have never seen him cry before. Not in all the years you know him.

“Fine, close the door and give me that cactus before you kill it for real…”

Tags in reblog.

#walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall x you #walter marshall x y/n #x reader #Gap Filler (3)

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totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus · 2 days ago

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Fic Preview

A sneak peek of the next chapter of Something to Sink Your Teeth Into

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

Evan was dreaming. He had to be dreaming. That was the only explanation for what was happening—Sally, solid and purring against his chest as he held her; the strength and warmth of a coven bond pulsing through him, restoring his magic faster than he’d experienced in years. He buried his face in Sally’s rough fur the way he used to when he was a child, unable to stop the tears that sprang to his eyes. “Sally,” he whispered, his voice choked and hoarse. “Sally…what…how…” His words broke on a rough sob and he finally raised his face from Sally’s fur. “How are you here?”

Sally pressed her forehead against his cheek, the familiar rumble of her purring filling his ears and it only made the tears spill faster. It was Sally. It was Sally.

I’ve been waiting so long. I’d begun to think I was wrong…that you’d never find your way to him.

Evan startled at that, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Huh? Wh-what do you mean?” Him? Him who? Surely she couldn’t be talking about…

He looked over at his vampire, who was watching the whole scene unfold in front of him with a sort of stunned confusion. The other two vampires were just as frozen, staring at Evan and Sally in disbelief. Slowly, he started to pull himself to his feet, his muscles protesting and his head swimming at the sudden change in altitude. He was recovering quickly…but he’d been dying less than an hour ago. He let out a soft, pained sound despite himself, and Tommy was suddenly at his side. His vampire’s strong arm slid under his, helping him up and then immediately pulling him close to Tommy’s side. Evan closed his eyes and opened himself fully to the bond that flowed between him and Tommy, nearly gasping out loud at the flood of emotions he could sense from his vampire.

Witches learned early how to dampen their feelings and emotions in a coven bond, how to keep them from overwhelming the coven. Vampire covens were not the same as witch covens, though—Tommy had no frame of reference for how to close that part of himself off. All of it was laid bare for Evan…his vampire’s worry, his confusion, his wariness over Sally’s sudden appearance, his heart-stopping relief that Evan was all right.

His love.

Evan could feel it—a thread that stretched effortlessly through every other emotion he could sense from his vampire. Unyielding. Unshakable. Tommy loved him already, needed him, wanted him…could not bear the thought of being apart from him. Whatever they were facing, Tommy would be right beside him because that was where he belonged. That was where he wanted to be. Not for anything he felt he owed Evan, or anything that Evan could do for him or give to him. Because he loved Evan and trusted Evan, and that was enough.

Evan was enough.

All his life, that had only been true for Maddie and Sally. And he loved them with all his heart and was so, so grateful for them…but this was different. This was someone who had no reason to want him, no obligation, no link, nothing binding them together. Evan’s magic had drawn them together, but he saw now that Tommy was right. It couldn’t force his vampire to love him like this. Tommy had chosen this. Chosen him. Just like he was choosing Tommy. No matter what happened, no matter how this awful knot of tensions they’d found themselves embroiled in resolved, Evan knew he was staying with Tommy.

He let himself sink into the bond—the impossible, unbelievable coven bond that had somehow formed between himself and his vampire. He had never heard of such a thing, didn’t even know how it was possible, but he wasn’t afraid. Only a short while ago, this would have terrified him. Would have sent him spiraling into fear and self-loathing at the idea that his magic had somehow once again trapped Tommy into something he didn’t want. Now, though? He’d have to talk to Tommy, to tell him what had happened, but wrapped securely in the echoes of Tommy’s love and trust, their coven bond singing in his blood, he wasn’t even a little afraid. Tommy would understand.

His vampire would want this. Want him. He had nothing to fear from telling Tommy about the bond.

He let Tommy take more of his weight as Sally finally pulled back from the crook of his neck, looking up at his vampire with a sharp, assessing look. Took you long enough, you damned fool, she said with a light scoff.

Evan let out a wet laugh, hugging her tightly again. Something deep inside him, something that had been lost and hurting for the past five years eased, and it was like he could take a full breath again after a vise had constricted his lungs. He had Sally. He had a coven. He had his vampire.

Everything. Almost everything he had been longing for, wishing for, back before he’d even known what the things he wanted were…was right here.

Tommy’s arm tightened around his waist, and he tugged Evan towards the living room. Sally shifted slightly, sliding out of Evan’s arms to land neatly on the floor and trotting ahead of them to leap up on the couch. She turned to face them expectantly, her tail twining primly around her feet in such a familiar gesture Evan almost started crying again. He let his vampire help him over to the couch and sank down onto it, his whole body relaxing when Sally immediately scrambled onto his lap.

“Maddie?” Evan asked urgently, the biggest and most important question he had bursting out of him, his voice sounding desperate even to his own ears. “Is Maddie okay?”

Sally batted at his cheek with a gentle paw. Your sister is well, she said, and it felt as though a ten ton weight he hadn’t even been aware he was carrying slid off his back. I contact Sebastian whenever I can. He assures me she is fine.

“Good,” he breathed, swallowing harshly. “Good, that’s—that’s good.”

“Evan,” Tommy interrupted gently. His voice was careful. “I’m—I’m gonna need some context here.” He sounded bewildered, throwing looks down at Sally that seemed more cautious than strictly warranted.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind knowing what the fuck is going on, either!” Sal added, boosting himself up to sit on the large island that dominated most of the kitchen.

Evan struggled to pull himself together. “This is Sally, guys,” he said, one hand finding its way to the rough fur on Sally’s back almost without conscious thought. “My…my familiar. Or—or she was, I—”

I shall always be your familiar, little love, Sally said fiercely, and Evan took a deep, shuddering breath. Tommy stepped closer to them, his hand lightly skating through Evan’s hair, though he didn’t sit down.

“Yeah, no, I got that. Just, that’s also the stray I’ve been feeding for like two years.”

#bucktommy #911 abc #tommy kinard #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #911 tv show #tevan #buck x tommy #mywriting #shameless self promotion #firebeast #firepilot #bucktommy au #kinley

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gremlin-in-the-woods · 1 day ago

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My favorites:

Revenant, Revenant by Civilized_muppets

“High King Phantom was widely regarded as a benevolent King, fair and kind and just. But the Benevolent King was still a King. Still all-powerful. Still the commander of armies. Still had a core that beat for the protection of what was his.

Jason Todd, known as the Red Hood in Gotham and the High King's Red Knight in the Infinite Realms (but known to Danny as his boyfriend Jason, Jane Austen nerd and Chili Dog connoisseur) certainly qualified as his.

And Batman had just slit Jason's throat. Batman had nearly destroyed the greatest treasure of High King Phantom's core. And the King would not rest until the Bat paid the price.”

The Ghost of Heroes by Enigmaris, ScarletNightFury

““Uhh, Mr. Stark?” Peter said.

“What is it, Spiderman? You okay?”

“I’m fine but…I think we might have a ghost fighting on our side.”

“Impossible.” Thor interrupted. “Ghosts hate the living.”

“Yeah well one just saved my life and made a joke about New York’s rat problems.”

Silence over the radio.

Or, New York City isn't prepared for a ghostly invasion. The Avengers are finally all in the same place again. Thor and Bruce are back from space with a semi-reformed chaos god and a thousand refugees in tow. Steve and the Rogues have got their pardons and are ready to start being heroes again. But Tony isn't ready trust, neither is his new protegee Spiderman. The fractured team can't seem to come together. It's a good thing then that Danny Phantom is ready to save the day. That doesn't mean anyone is prepared for when he keeps showing up.”

Patent Royalties in Good Company By Sonrium

“Vlad is planning something big, he’s using his wealth and connections to make it happen. You cant punch a law, so Danny's only option is to find a different billionaire he can convince to fight this battle for him.

Danny is not looking for another parent. He already had parents that love him, thank you very much, and one billionaire trying to make him his son. The last thing he wanted was another.

Armed with nothing but an engineering internship and the little he remember from Vlad’s “you will be the heir of DALV Co.” rants, Danny has to get close enough to the elusive Oliver Queen, to make a business proposal while remaining under the radar of the Justice League and the GIW.

Meanwhile, something is rotten in Star City that wreaks of magic and mind control. Ollie might not be able to solve this one without the kid that knows more than he should.

It is Oliver Queen that develops accidental child acquisition genes instead of Bruce Wayne. He doesn't realize it's happening until it's too late. Slow burn found family. Danny needs many hugs and Ollie is ready to give them. Well, as soon as they can stop being suspicious of each other long enough to work together and fight the real threat.”

How to Adopt by woodland_gremlin

“Danny Fenton, otherwise known as Danny Phantom, has more in common with Bruce Wayne than just looks and heroism. He also has an adoption problem.”

DP PHANDOM !!!

hello! my name's taylor, and i'm a senior soon to be finishing my undergraduate degree in english & creative writing. last semester (because i hate myself), i decided i just had to graduate with honors. that means, this semester, i'm completing an independent honors study. what beautifully linguistic academic topic have i chosen for this project, you ask?

danny phantom. i sent in a request to do an honors study on danny phantom. more specifically, to "examine the impact of fan communities via interviews with popular fanfiction authors within the danny phantom fandom..." to be honest, i didn't think it'd even get approved. like, it had to go through the chair of the english department?? …and yet, here we are.

my job, now, is to choose popular authors to reach out to for a potential interview, but i worry that the way i lean toward the horror subgenre of dp fanfic may be a misrepresentation of what "popular" means now, meant a decade ago, even meant at the inception of the phandom, when we primarily ran on long-gone forums.

therefore, i'm asking YOU what your favorite danny phantom fanfictions are! long, short, crossovers, aus—send me the fanficiton that got you into the fandom, whose trope you've seen copied time and time again, whose plot had you laying awake at night (or straight up skipping school, like i used to do in highschool...oops). I'm talking the Phantom of Truth duology, I'm talking A Snapping Sound, I'm talking that fuckass dpxdc fanfic with the wax ducky that every dpxdc fic easter-eggs into their plot (just kidding, love you If You Give a Bat a Burger). SEND IT IN USING THE GOOGLE FORMS LINK BELOW! i'll pick the top-named authors to reach out to about an interview.

GOOGLE FORMS LINK

in conclusion,

(oh, & please rb so i can hear from as many people as possible)

💚💚💚

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floralscented · 3 hours ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤBETTER BIRTHDAYS — vampire!dean

slowly, dean is learning to love his birthdays again, after going for decades without letting himself.

not what i intended to write, and not as good as i wish it was, but to be fair to myself i have sickness. and i'm NOT missing out on my beloved baby's birthday! if logistics don't make sense, i don't care. that's fiction baby! vampire!dean is just rent free so it was inevitable.

it wasn’t supposed to be possible.

it was one of those things that dean came to terms with when he’d been turned so long ago — a family? was not something that was personally in dean’s cards. he’d have an infinite life, yes, but any family he wanted would have to be made or created, and not in the way that he’d ever get a chance to hold something so small that was part him.

dean forgot often that the impossible seemed to happen a lot around him.

there was a moment when he thought that being with you was a fate destined for doom. but every step of the way, you’d helped convince him that decades of isolation did not equate to deserving said isolation, and slowly, he’d let you make a home in his heart.

you accepted him for what he was. you trusted him with all you had; let him into your heart, your house, and every room that was deigned yours. no secrets, you’d promised.

it was a promise you held true to, because on a day he’d always remember, june 27th, you’d sat him down and told him that you were pregnant. and, on top of that initial shock, you were three months along.

he’d used the word impossible over and over throughout your pregnancy. this was not something for dean to pour his hope into and get attached to. it had to be a mistake; it had to be a misunderstanding — something.

but on dean’s birthday, a day he refused to celebrate anymore because of how many he’d had, a day that you took into your own hands and made him celebrate anyway—

a little boy was born.

a son with his hair, his face, and your eyes. so human and so real that it stole his breath away, unable to breathe at all even if he wanted to try again.

and it only got more chaotic from there. the little boy was an absolute devil; just as dean had been before sam was born, and before his father sank into a depression that drowned both of them. cassius winchester was a little force with sharp teeth and an affinity for crawling after him everywhere that dean went.

everything about cassius was impossible. that was why he’d been given the name, after all; helmeted warrior, it meant, so nothing could take him, so nothing would try to. now that dean had him, it was not going to be so easy to pry him away.

it was cassius’s third birthday, which meant it was dean’s… he’d lost count, really. either way, it was an incredibly special day for you. your two boys, one grown and one anew, and while you didn’t fit the mold when it came to the family dynamic that your boys painted, you certainly made up for it with your enthusiasm.

“blood in the icing?” you’d asked dean the moment he stepped downstairs, cassius balanced on his hip. “would that make it any more edible for you? for cassy?”

dean, taken aback for a moment, raises his eyebrows. “what would you eat, then?”

“i’m sure a little iron in my diet won’t hurt me.”

his scoff is an amused one, his eyebrows furrowing when he feels a sharp nip on his fingertip. in cassius’s mouth is dean’s finger, gnawing on it like it were nothing more than a teething toy.

his lips quirk up. he hasn’t genuinely grinned in so long that it feels almost foreign all of the time to do it now, since he met you, and even more since cassius. “on second thought, it might not be a bad idea.”

you stop the stand mixer to glance up at them, your eyes glimmering with that look that dean always refused to address. so much love for one person always made him feel on edge, like one day it would all fall away, like everyone else he’d loved prior. his fears had never once deterred you. perhaps it was why he, too, loved you so fiercely.

“he finally learned how to use those little teeth?” you ask, circling around the kitchen island to stand in front of dean and cassius, your expression alight. “what a milestone, my love. and on your third ever birthday.”

it certainly was a milestone. cassius had not let up his biting, little pinches that were certainly going to leave his finger raw for a few hours while it tried to heal. already, dean was planning on tossing all of the teething toys in the house away; he did not care for them like he cared for dean’s pointer finger.

you press a kiss to dean’s cheek, cassius’s forehead, before turning back to the slightly/less-dusty kitchen again. it’d been practically gray before you, but you had to eat, didn’t you? the scattered leftovers of human and forest creature in the boxed refrigerator did nothing for you. but you stop quickly, your eyes widened when you spin back around.

“wait!” you say on a gasp, grabbing something from underneath the countertop. two somethings. very shiny somethings. you jog back up to dean, looping the string of one underneath his chin and planting the birthday hat securely on his head, and doing the same for cassius, albeit with a smaller one. “happy birthday, my boys.”

dean tries to not let it affect him so deeply. how long had it been since his birthday felt like something to be celebrated and not a burden? there were so many years of those feelings that he did not understand yet how to react in instances like this, in the sheer warmth that you and cassius’s joy brought to him.

you were well aware of dean’s affinity for privacy. he was reserved, had made a home in the reservation, and would not leave it, not when he was so comfortable. so you did not call upon his sired to come celebrate — especially not them, when he was only beginning to heal the self-deprecation that came from their being there.

you did, though, dust away his hallway of their paintings, and uncover his painting supplies again. it was special to him, after all, and a hobby he’d locked away for too long after realizing the solace he found in keeping memories forever was embedding him into the past.

the paints and the blank canvasses were neatly wrapped in your room, along with a smaller box — dean’s present pile. there were more toys wrapped in a pile next to it, toys that cassius was far too spoiled already to need, but deserved anyways.

dean is not amused by the blindfold you put over his eyes as you led him to your shared room. or really, he was incredibly amused, but not so much to find out that all it served for was a dramatic way to lead him to his gifts while cassius napped downstairs.

“there are much more fun things that we could do with this blindfold,” he grumbles from in front of you, “there are much more fun things that we have done with it.”

“it is okay to be selfish and accept gifts sometimes, dean,” you say back, lightly kicking open the door with your foot to guide him inside.

dean is at his most shy and timid, somehow, on his birthday. as if he could make himself invisible and shrunken enough to be forgotten about, as if this day was not as equally about dean as it was cassius. “you are well aware of how little birthday gifts i’ve gotten over these years, aren’t you?”

“that is why i’ve got you three today.”

he can’t see, but he can hear the rustling of wrapping paper. shifting around, moving him as you so please, until he’s sat on the edge of the bed, and you are sitting at his feet in front of him, can feel the warmth of your humanity seeping into his legs.

something heavy lands in his lap.

“you may take it off,” you hum, and dean is not surprised to see that when he does, you are wearing a smug grin that makes you all the more beautiful. “go on. open it. that’s why gifts exist; to be opened.”

“i have not gotten a birthday gift in a while,” dean says with a huff, lifting his eyes as he tears into the wrapping paper to meet yours, “but that does not mean i need the process explained—”

his words die in his throat.

his paints. the ones that created life out of people he’d long killed. his heart falters. his mind blanks.

“this—” you pat the biggest gift behind you; flat and hollow when your hand touches it, “is some of the canvases i found too. i was just thinking— well, about how you paint everything you love in case it leaves.”

dean can’t even find the words to respond. his eyes stay locked on yours with a vulnerability you rarely see. “but i’m not leaving. and cassius is not leaving. and i think a family portrait for the front entrance would look lovely, don’t you?”

his swallow is thick and unnecessary, but he feels the lump in his throat and simply can’t help it.

instead of addressing your words, or the paints in his lap, or anything, he looks at the third present sat in your lap. his voice is raw when it comes out. “what is that one?”

dean’s paintbrushes, he assumes. fits the theme, would complete the puzzle.

your lips curl in a little grin. “those are cassius’s building blocks and perhaps a toy train. i can’t spoil everything.”

the attempt at lightening the mood works. he sets the paints aside and leans forward, lifting your chin with one finger and reaching into your lap with the other of his hands. “i meant this, little devil.”

there is no explanation or comments from you this time, as he opens it. it was hasty, the way he tore in, feeling light and airy like he did as a child on christmas. it’d been a long time since dean had felt so free.

it was not paintbrushes as he assumed, though. for the second time in one evening, you’d shocked the words out of him.

impossible, his mind begins to repeat again, but it’s quieter. less insistent. the voice of his subconscious had already been proven wrong once before.

a pregnancy test with two lines sits in the little jewelry box you’d tucked it away in.

the lump in his throat is tight, heavier. his mouth opens, closes, opens again, and no words come out. dean is left holding a pregnancy test between his fingers like it might break, left staring at the one person who heard his cries for company and answered with a family.

a family. how long had it been since he let himself dream? of this, of you, of anything?

“i know it is yours and cassius’s day, but i figured…” you don’t even need to finish the sentence for dean to get it. this was something that he’d wanted desperately, a secret he shared only with you. his childhood was bleak and unforgiving. all dean wanted was a chance to start anew and make it better.

here it was, in the form of a stick and a woman and a toddler.

he is more ginger with the pregnancy test than he was with the paints. as much as he appreciated the sentiments being brought back up, painting sam and judas had pulled all of the fun and the peace out of the hobby. he had no intention of digging back into the part of himself that loved the art of creation, in any way.

but now, in his head, there’s the grant entrance of his manor. and above the fireplace is you next to him in acrylic, a little cassius painted onto his hip, and a little baby in your arms. it would be updated every time his children grew. it would be updated every year, maybe even, so he could have multiples of you in the dresses he loved so dearly, and to see the progression of his kids. his family.

the hand on your chin moves to the back of your neck, tugging you up and into his arms. his eyes close, breathing you in slowly. he’s always loved the warmth of your livelihood, and it felt that much more intense, knowing that there was another life now, too.

“you have a talent for making a man forget he doesn’t deserve this,” he whispers into your throat.

you grasp at the sleeves of his coat, the grin on your face evident even as its buried into his chest. he can feel it, the pull of your lips, your smiling mouth in his shirt. “i hope to foster that talent, then. to become an expert in bringing you a lifetime’s worth of better birthdays.”

dean doesn’t know how to tell you that these years with you have done plenty. this was all he needed — you and the family you brought to him — to have better days and better birthdays.

so he stays silent and holds you to him, letting himself slip away into this life that felt more and more like a wish come true with every passing day.

and it is only when the sounds of little footsteps start stomping up the stairs toward your room, toward his presents, that dean’s eyes lift up to meet the sleep mussed little boy babbling to himself — and the big brother t-shirt you’d had him in, only now noticed.

notes. i literally woke up just to write this quick asf & post it PLS. if it sucks my bad. i'm just a girl. happy bday my pookie beloved baby waby!!!

tags. @titsout4jackles @moonstruksandco @starzify @ultravi0lence14 @itzavahere @sagegreen17 @bruceewayne @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @deansbeer @blushpinkdoll @warpedless @sabrinasopposite @k-slla @deansbite @foolinthera1n @honeyryewhiskey @angelblqde @whyyouegg @bluemerakis @fallbhind @florchids @figthoughts @beausling @chevroletdean @mccartneyqp @bluestrd @sthefferrete @rubyvhs @tortureddarkstar @aileenunfiltered @frosttbitessam @theosaurous

#──★ dahlia's jrnl #──★ gothic horror #dad!dean #vampyr!dean #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester one shot #supernatural #spn #supernatural one shot #spn one shot #happy birthday dean winchester!

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daryltwdixon · 3 days ago

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Summary: One month later, you’re trekking through the snow-capped Midwest, the cold biting at your resolve. After crossing paths with a reclusive couple in a remote cabin, you camp under the northern lights, trading fire-warmed banter and quiet confessions.

Winter’s biting chill has officially set in over the northwest, the cold gnawing at any exposed skin despite your layers. Your boots—salvaged from some unlucky soul on the road—crunch through the thick, icy snow that coats the ground like a frozen blanket. The chill seeps through your wool socks with each step, making you clench your gloved hands tighter inside your pockets. The tundra stretches endlessly in every direction, a blank canvas of white interrupted only by the silhouettes of barren trees.

“Those weirdos,” Ellie grumbles, the map she’s holding nearly crumpled in her gloved hands as she squints down at it. A white rabbit hangs from her backpack, tied and waiting for the next rest you take. Her voice is exaggerated with mockery as she continues, “‘Yeah, I know the best way west, go east!’ Assholes. They don’t even know what’s out there, I bet. They probably never leave that cabin.”

“They’ve been out here long enough to know better than you,” Joel quips without looking back, his breath visible in the freezing air with every word. His tone is low, steady—just enough to put a stop to Ellie’s ranting without riling her up further. His strides are purposeful, boots carving a trail ahead of you, but his shoulders remain slightly hunched, as if bracing against the wind.

The cabin they’re talking about comes back to mind: a squat, weathered structure half-buried in snow, smoke curling lazily from its chimney. The couple who lived there looked as though they’d grown out of the land itself—wrinkled, sun-creased skin, and movements slow but purposeful. The husband had the wary eyes of someone who trusted nothing beyond the forest’s edge, while the wife was kinder, her smile nothing but genuine as she ladled steaming bowls of soup for your group.

Their way of life had sparked memories you’d long kept buried. Self-sufficient, capable, surviving where most would’ve crumbled—people like them always reminded you of Bill and Frank, of the haven they built in a world determined to tear everything down. The warmth of the soup and the way the wife’s eyes softened when she spoke had felt familiar, almost painfully so. That feeling lingered now, a quiet ache that made you draw your coat tighter around yourself as you trudged through the snow-covered woods.

Ellie, still muttering under her breath about the “crazy old people, probably like a thousand years old” stumbles slightly over a root hidden beneath the snow. “Goddamn snow,” she snaps, kicking at it.

“You keep wastin’ your energy on bitchin’, you’ll freeze before we hit the next stop,” Joel says gruffly, glancing back at her. His gaze briefly lands on you, his brow furrowing. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you reply quickly, your voice muffled by the scarf wrapped around your face. Your breath fogs up in the cold, and you hate how it feels like an effort to speak when the air itself is so frigid.

But you’re not good—not really. The cold bites deeper with every step, and your thoughts keep drifting back to the cabin, to the life you left behind. You wonder what it would’ve been like to take care of Bill and Frank in their later years, to repay all they’d done for you by helping them in return. Maybe they’d have softened with age, like the couple at the cabin, weathered but still standing, relying on each other in the quiet rhythm of a hard-earned life.

They never got the chance to grow old, and they never gave you the chance to care for them the way you’d wanted to.

The weight of that loss lingers now, as heavy as the snow beneath your boots. You tell yourself there’s no use dwelling on what could have been, but the memory clings to you anyway, a bittersweet warmth against the chill of the barren woods.

“Here,” Joel’s voice breaks the quiet, rough and low. “You look like you’re about near ready to succumb to frostbite.”

“I’m fine,” you say, swatting a hand at him without much conviction. The cold has your fingers stiff, your nose numb, but you’re not about to admit that.

“Shut yer mouth,” he mutters, his tone gruff but not unkind. Before you can protest further, he’s already wrapped his scarf around your neck, his large, calloused hands tugging it snugly into place. The coarse fabric covers your mouth, cheeks, and the tip of your nose, the warmth of it seeping into your skin almost instantly. His touch is fleeting, but it leaves a ripple of heat behind that has nothing to do with the scarf.

You blink up at him, caught off guard, but Joel doesn’t meet your gaze. He adjusts the strap of his rifle and moves ahead, as if the moment hadn’t just happened. You catch Ellie smirking from the corner of your eye, but she doesn’t say anything.

Soon, though, you’re about ready to admit it—you’re lost. The snow blankets everything in an endless expanse of white, blurring landmarks and swallowing the faint trails left behind. Past the rushing river, every direction looks the same: barren forest stretching endlessly, skeletal trees clawing at the gray sky.

You glance back at Ellie, her face scrunched in concentration as she turns the map over, trying to make sense of it. The edges are damp from the cold, smudged with grime and faint traces of blood—one of the many souvenirs of your journey. You lean closer, squinting at the tiny lines and faded markings, but the map might as well be written in a foreign language for all the sense it’s making right now.

“Let me see,” you murmur, reaching for the paper. Ellie reluctantly hands it over, muttering something about “as if you’re gonna do any better.” You ignore her, holding the map closer as you scan the page, glancing up every few seconds to compare the forest around you to the indistinct shapes on the paper.

Joel’s footsteps crunch heavily through the snow behind you, his pace slowing when he notices your hesitation. “What’re you doin’?” he asks, his voice cutting through the frigid air. There’s no annoyance in his tone—yet—but you can feel his eyes on you, watching, assessing.

“We’re figuring it out,” you say, a little sharper than you intended. The cold is making your patience thin, the ache in your fingers and toes growing harder to ignore. “It’s just... this all looks the same.”

Joel steps closer, his presence looming but steady, and plucks the map from your hands without waiting for permission. “Give it here,” he mutters, unfolding it with deliberate care as his sharp eyes flick over the markings. He takes a long look around, the faint movement of his jaw the only sign of his own mounting frustration.

“You were supposed to be keepin’ track,” he says after a moment, his voice calm but edged with a quiet reprimand.

“I was,” you snap back, though the words feel weak even to your own ears. “It’s the damn snow. Everything blends together.”

Ellie, ever the peacemaker—or maybe just enjoying the chance to poke at both of you—chimes in, her tone light but pointed. “Relax, you two. It’s not like we’re completely lost. Right, Joel? At least those old people showed us where we are now.”

“Yeah, but that was, like, two miles back, El,” you reply, your voice sharper than intended, though the frustration isn’t directed at her. You sigh, softening slightly. “I think we went northwest?”

Joel shoots both of you a look—his signature cut it out expression—but says nothing as his eyes shift back to the map. The silence feels heavy, like he’s measuring the weight of the situation against the fading daylight. You cross your arms tightly over your chest, fighting the creeping chill and the feeling of shrinking under his scrutiny. “Well?” you press, your voice quieter now.

Joel exhales, a puff of condensation curling into the freezing air. “We’ll figure it out,” he says at last, his tone softening just enough to keep the tension from snapping. His gaze flickers to you, steady and unreadable, before shifting westward. “But it’s too close to dark. There’re some caves along the riverbank. We’ll set up there and cross in the morning.”

“Good,” Ellie says quickly, her relief plain. “I’m starving. Should’ve stolen two rabbits.”

Joel doesn’t miss a beat, his response low and reprimanding. “We can catch our own rabbits.”

Ellie grins, her eyes lighting up. “You gonna teach me how?”

The corner of your mouth twitches, a faint smile threatening to form as you watch the back-and-forth. Joel’s response is gruff, but there’s a hint of amusement in the way he shakes his head. “Just keep movin’.”

Ellie falls into step beside you, muttering under her breath, “Bet he doesn’t even know how to set a snare.”

You glance at her with a raised brow, biting back a laugh. Joel’s sharp ears catch the remark anyway, and he shoots her a pointed look over his shoulder. “I heard that.”

Ellie snickers but doesn’t push further, her boots crunching in the snow as she keeps moving. You can’t help but notice the way Joel’s shoulders relax ever so slightly, his focus shifting ahead as if he’s already plotting the next steps.

The banter lingers in your mind, though. Ellie might be fine with the idea of hunting—eager, even—but she hadn’t quite come to terms with what came after the kill. It was a conversation waiting to happen, one Joel seemed content to push off for another day. For now, though, she seemed happy enough to tease him, her grin a rare bright spot against the bleakness of the snow-covered forest.

The nice thing about being in the middle of nowhere was that you could build a fire. No need to worry about unwanted visitors—at least, as far as any of you could tell. The centenarians you'd crossed paths with earlier seemed like the only souls for miles. Now, the warmth of the flames was a welcome reprieve from the biting cold, flickering against the backdrop of the night sky.

Above you, greens and purples danced in ribbons, the northern lights casting an ethereal glow over the frozen landscape. You’d read about them as a kid in one of the many books your dad had kept on the shelf, never imagining you’d see them in person. It felt surreal, like stepping into the pages of those dusty old books.

Despite the fire’s warmth, the frost bit through the layers you’d piled on, and your teeth chattered as you pulled your knees up to your chest. A cold rock pressed against your back, but it was a small price to pay for this view.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Ellie begins, breaking the quiet.

“This oughta be good,” you tease, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

Ellie shoots you a look, narrowing her eyes playfully before continuing. “Let’s say it all works out, right? We find the Fireflies, they draw my blood, make their magic cure, and boom—world saved.”

You nod along, sensing the question coming but unsure what it is.

“Okay…” Joel says, his voice low and cautious, urging her to get to the point.

“Then what?” Ellie asks, looking between the two of you. “What do we do?”

“It’s a ‘we’?” Joel asks, and though his tone is serious, you can tell he’s just pushing her buttons.

Ellie rolls her eyes. “Fine. Whatever. You. What’re you gonna do when it’s all over?”

Joel hesitates, the weight of the question settling over him. “Never really been an option,” he says after a moment, his voice thoughtful. “But… maybe a farmhouse? Ranch?”

Your chest tightens slightly at his answer, the thought of a homestead tugging at something deep inside you. It’s a dream you’ve let drift far out of reach since leaving home, but the idea of it—of a place to call your own, self-sufficient and whole—makes you smile faintly.

Joel glances between the two of you, his eyes lingering on you for a fraction of a second longer. Then, almost reluctantly, he adds, “When I was a kid, though… I wanted to be a singer.”

Ellie’s face lights up. “No way! Sing us something!”

“No.” His answer is immediate and firm.

“Oh, come on! You can’t just tell us you wanted to be a singer and not sing.” Ellie rolls her eyes again, her grin infectious. You laugh softly, the sound carried on the cold air, and Joel’s gaze shifts to you. For a moment, his expression softens, and you swear you see the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I ain’t singin’,” Joel says firmly, though he lifts a small canteen to his lips, hiding whatever might’ve been written on his face.

“What about you, El?” you ask, shifting your hands closer to the fire.

Ellie straightens, her grin widening. “Astronaut. Easy. Can you imagine being up there all by yourself? Would’ve been cool. I read about all of them in the school library. Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, Jim Lovell—but you know who’s my favorite?”

Joel answers before you can even think. “Sally Ride.”

“Sally fucking Ride!” Ellie exclaims, delighted. “Best astronaut name ever.”

Her grin fades slightly as she stares into the fire. After a long moment, her face falling into a serious, thoughtful stare, she asks, “It’ll… it’ll work, right? The vaccine?”

Joel’s voice is low as he answers, “Little late to start wonderin’.”

Ellie nods, the firelight dancing in her eyes, before turning to you. “What about you? What would you do when the world goes back to normal?”

You take a long moment to think, staring into the fire as it crackles and pops. “I’ve never really thought about it,” you admit, your voice quiet. “But if I could do anything… I’d travel. Go everywhere. See everything I’ve only read about in books.”

You pause, your breath fogging in the cold. “But really? Truthfully? I’d want to try to have what I had before.” you look at Joel, who is watching you, “Back when you used to visit me and my dad. Everything felt so good then. Having a homestead again, being self-sufficient… that’s what I’d want.”

When you look at Ellie, she nods, smiling softly. “Sounds boring, but cool.”

You glance at Joel again, and something compels you to tease, “Could I come live on your ranch? I promise I make a pretty good farmhand.”

Your tone is light, playful, but Joel’s expression shifts. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, something flickers there—something deep, like he’s really thinking about it. It’s not obvious, but it lingers long enough to make your stomach flip. Then he looks away, clearing his throat.

“Farmhand, huh?” Joel mutters, taking another sip from the canteen. His voice is rougher, as if to cover the moment. “Guess we’ll see.”

You smile, letting the warmth of the fire and the fleeting tension settle into the quiet. The northern lights shift above, painting the sky as Ellie begins rambling about space again. Joel stays quiet, his gaze fixed on the fire, but every so often, you catch him sneaking a glance your way.

#the last of us #all that remains #Joel miller #Joel miller x you #Joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #tlou #thou hbo #tlou joel #Joel and ellie #joel miller fic #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #joel the last of us

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shiorihyugawrites · 2 days ago

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The Devil's Bride

Aurora Jaeger, Eren's long-lost childhood friend, was taken from him when they were children. After years of suffering under Marleyan control, Aurora is reunited with Eren while he’s undercover in Marley, igniting a bond neither of them expected. Despite her gentle nature, Aurora breaks her vow of pacifism to save Eren’s life, solidifying their deep connection. Secretly married before the Raid on Liberio, Aurora is swept into Eren's world of chaos and destruction. As the Scouts learn of her existence, tensions rise on the airship home. Mikasa’s heart shatters, and Levi demands answers. And Eren will stop at nothing to protect the only light left in his dark world—his bride, Aurora.

In this journey of love, loyalty, and war, Aurora must reconcile her innocent heart with the brutal reality of the man she loves, while Eren faces the truth of what he’s become. (Eren x OC)

Chapter Thirty Seven

Eren shut the door behind him, his movements harsh as he locked it, ensuring they wouldn’t be interrupted. Aurora sat at the edge of their bed, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her dress, her face still pale from the events of the past day. She glanced up at him, her expression a mix of worry and resolve.

He crossed the room, standing in front of her with his arms crossed. The weight of everything seemed to hang heavy in the air. Aurora knew she should bring up how she felt about Floch—how his hostility toward her made her uncomfortable—but she hesitated. Floch was too important to Eren right now. The Jaegerists were volatile enough without more infighting, and Aurora didn’t want to be the one to push Eren into an even tougher position.

Instead, she shifted her focus to Eren’s troubled expression, sensing that he had something on his mind.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly, reaching out to take his hand. Eren looked down at her, his piercing green eyes unreadable for a moment, before he sighed and sat beside her on the bed.

“It’s about Historia’s plan,” he began, his voice low but steady. “She wants to use the ice burst stone as leverage to gain allies. Offer it to other nations in exchange for their military support.”

Aurora tilted her head, listening intently. She could sense the frustration in his voice, the way his hands clenched into fists as he spoke.

“I don’t like it,” Eren admitted, his tone sharper now. “The world already hates us. You really think they’d fight for us? No, they’d just take the stone for themselves and leave us to rot. We can’t trust them.”

Aurora frowned, absorbing his words. She knew he wasn’t wrong—the world’s hatred for Eldians ran deep. But something about the plan still resonated with her. If there was even a small chance to avoid using the Rumbling, wasn’t it worth exploring?

“I think it’s a good idea,” she said carefully, watching Eren’s reaction. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt her, so she continued. “If we have a shot at avoiding the Rumbling, Eren, shouldn’t we take it? Even if the chances are slim, isn’t it worth trying?”

Eren shook his head, his frustration boiling over. “You don’t get it, Aurora. These people don’t care about us. They don’t want peace with us. They want us dead. Giving them the ice burst stone is like handing them a loaded gun. How do you think that’s going to end?”

Aurora held his gaze, refusing to back down. “I know it’s risky, but what other choice do we have? The Rumbling is… it’s genocide, Eren. If there’s a way to avoid it, even if it’s a gamble, I think we have to try.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, Eren didn’t respond. His expression was a mixture of anger and pain, and Aurora could see the war raging inside him. He was so resolute in his belief that the Rumbling was their only option, but Aurora could see the part of him that didn’t want to carry that burden. The part of him that wanted another way, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

“I don’t want to use the Rumbling either,” Eren said finally, his voice quieter now. “But the world isn’t giving us a choice. They’re coming to kill us, Aurora. We can’t gamble with something this big.”

Aurora reached out, cupping his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. “You’re not gambling alone, Eren. We’re all in this together. Historia, Levi, Mikasa, Armin, Hange me… We’re all fighting for the same thing: survival. And if there’s even a chance—just a chance—that we can do this without wiping out millions of people, then we owe it to ourselves to try.”

Eren closed his eyes, leaning into her touch for a brief moment before pulling back. His shoulders were tense, his hands gripping his knees tightly.

“You really think this plan could work?” he asked, his voice laced with doubt.

“I don’t know,” Aurora admitted honestly. “But I think it’s worth a shot. And I think you do too, deep down. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have brought it up to me.”

Eren let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You’re always too optimistic for your own good.”

Aurora smiled faintly, though her eyes were serious. “Maybe. But sometimes optimism is all we have.”

Eren stared at her for a long moment, his mind clearly racing. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh and stood up, pacing the room. “I’ll think about it,” he said gruffly. “But I’m not promising anything.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” Aurora replied softly, relief washing over her.

Eren paused by the door, glancing back at her. “You’re too stubborn, you know that?”

Aurora chuckled, a small but genuine sound. “Takes one to know one.”

For the first time that day, Eren allowed himself a faint smirk before stepping out of the room, leaving Aurora alone with her thoughts. She hoped that she had managed to get through to him, even just a little. If there was even a slim chance to avoid the Rumbling, she was determined to find it.

…

Hours later, the couple found themselves in a meeting with the scouts. The meeting was tense from the moment it started. Eren and Aurora sat side by side, their expressions serious, as Levi and Historia stood at the front of the room. Around the table were Hange, Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Connie, Sasha, and Floch, their faces a mix of apprehension and curiosity. Even Porco was present, though his hands were bound and Levi stood close enough to act at the first sign of trouble.

Eren wasted no time getting to the point. “Historia has a plan,” he began, his tone measured but carrying a weight that demanded attention. “She wants to use the ice burst stone as leverage to form alliances with other nations. In exchange for the stone, they’d provide military support.”

A ripple of murmurs ran through the room, and Levi shot a glare at the group, silencing them. “Let him finish,” Levi said curtly.

Aurora chimed in, her voice steady though she felt the weight of the room’s scrutiny. “This plan isn’t without risk, but it could give us the allies we need to stand against Marley and the rest of the world. If it works, we might not need to rely on the Rumbling.”

Hange leaned forward, her sharp eyes glinting with interest. “The ice burst stone is an incredibly valuable resource. It powers the ODM gear, so other nations must have been itching to get their hands on it. Theoretically, this could work.”

Armin nodded, his face lighting up with cautious optimism. “If we could convince even one or two nations to ally with us, it could change everything. They’d see we’re not devils, that we’re just people trying to survive.”

Jean tapped his fingers on the table, thoughtful. “And if they don’t stab us in the back, this could actually buy us time.”

Connie and Sasha exchanged hopeful glances, their relief palpable. “Anything’s better than the Rumbling,” Connie said quietly. Sasha nodded in agreement. “We don’t want to wipe out entire populations.”

But Floch’s voice cut through the room like a blade. “And what makes you think they won’t stab us in the back? What makes you think they’ll even agree to help us? They hate us. They’ve hated us for generations.” His eyes darted to Eren. “You of all people should know this, Eren.”

Eren didn’t respond immediately, his jaw tightening as he glanced at Aurora. He could feel Floch’s resentment radiating across the table, but he ignored it for now.

“Floch does have a point,” Levi said, his voice neutral. “This isn’t without risk. Offering them our most valuable resource could make us vulnerable.”

“But sitting here and doing nothing guarantees our destruction,” Armin countered, his voice firm. “We can’t just keep relying on the Rumbling as our only option. This is a chance to avoid mass genocide.”

Floch slammed his hand on the table, standing up. “We’re handing them the ammunition to destroy us! They’ll take the stone and use it against us. This isn’t a plan—it’s a death sentence!”

The room fell silent, the tension crackling in the air. Finally, Eren spoke, his voice low and steady. “Floch, sit down.”

Floch hesitated but eventually obeyed, his glare unwavering. “You’re letting her distract you,” he muttered, barely audible but loud enough for everyone to hear.

Eren’s eyes snapped to him, sharp and unyielding. “What did you just say?”

Floch didn’t back down. “You’re distracted. By Aurora. By this fantasy of peace. You’re losing sight of what’s important.”

Aurora stiffened beside Eren, her face falling, but before she could respond, Eren raised a hand to silence her. His voice was cold, each word deliberate. “You don’t get to question my decisions.”

Levi stepped in, breaking the growing tension. “Enough. Let’s vote on the plan and move on.”

One by one, the team cast their votes. Hange, Armin, Jean, Connie, Sasha, Mikasa, Levi, and even Historia voted in favor of the plan. Floch was staunchly against it, his scowl deepening with each “yes.” Finally, it was Eren’s turn.

“I’m against it,” he said, though there was a hesitation in his voice that hadn’t been there before.

Floch’s head snapped toward Eren, surprised. But then, Eren added, “I still don’t trust the world. I don’t think this will work. But if the rest of you think it’s worth a shot, then so be it.”

The room was stunned. Even though Eren voted against it, his tone suggested he was open to the idea—a significant shift from his usual unyielding stance. Floch’s fury was barely contained, his fists clenching as he glared at Aurora, blaming her for this perceived betrayal.

With the vote settled, Levi clapped his hands sharply. “That’s it. We have our decision. Now let’s get to work.”

Porco’s gaze scanned the room before he finally spoke. “The people who will be most interested and willing to negotiate with you are undoubtedly the Azumabitos. If you want to contact them, you can’t just go in guns blazing or send a message demanding an audience. You need to appeal to their… interests.”

“And by interests, you mean money,” Jean cut in, raising an eyebrow.

“Exactly,” Porco replied, leaning forward slightly. “The Azumabito are opportunists. They’ll sniff out a good deal from miles away. If you send them a friendly, non-threatening invitation—something that emphasizes the potential wealth they could gain from the ice burst stone—they’ll bite.”

Hange nodded thoughtfully, scribbling notes down on a piece of paper. “It makes sense. They thrive on trade and profit. If we present this as an exclusive opportunity, they might be more inclined to listen.”

Armin tapped his fingers on the table, his mind racing. “But how do we make it convincing? We can’t afford to seem desperate. They’ll take advantage of us if they think we’re backed into a corner.”

“That’s where you word it carefully,” Porco continued. “Make it seem like you’re doing them a favor by even offering the chance. Highlight the exclusivity of the deal. Make it seem like you’ve got other nations lined up waiting to get their hands on the stone.”

Floch, who had been sitting silently in the corner, suddenly muttered, “Why the hell is he even allowed to speak? He’s still a prisoner and an enemy.”

The room froze for a moment, tension thick enough to cut with a blade. Levi, standing near the back of the room with his arms crossed, didn’t even hesitate. “Shut the fuck up, Floch.”

The bluntness of Levi’s words caught everyone off guard. A few muffled snorts escaped from Jean and Connie, but Floch’s face turned red with anger and embarrassment. “I’m just saying—”

“I don’t care what you’re saying,” Levi interrupted, his voice sharp enough to make Floch flinch. “Every time you open your mouth, it’s nothing but useless noise. If you don’t have anything productive to add, keep it shut.”

Eren’s lips twitched slightly, but he said nothing, his eyes flicking between Levi and Floch before landing back on Porco. “Continue.”

Porco’s mouth quirked into a slight smirk at Floch’s dressing down, but he quickly wiped it off his face. “Like I was saying, the Azumabito won’t be able to resist the prospect of exclusive access to the ice burst stone. You make the deal look too good to pass up, but you don’t give them everything upfront. Keep some leverage.”

Mikasa nodded, her expression guarded. “How do we even deliver this invitation? It’s not like we can just send an envoy across the sea.They might feel threatened if they see a Paradisan ship.”

“Send a letter,” Porco suggested. “Something straight to the point but won’t appear threatening. Have Historia write it herself. The Azumabito love pomp and prestige—seeing a letter from the queen would definitely make an impression. They may even extend an invitation to Hizuru.”

The room fell silent at that suggestion. Everyone’s eyes turned to Historia, who sat with her hands folded in her lap. She took a deep breath and nodded. “If that’s what it takes, I’ll do it.”

“Absolutely not,” Eren said immediately, his tone brooking no argument. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Then who?” Jean asked, frowning. “We need someone who can make an impact. Someone they’ll actually listen to.”

Levi tilted his head slightly, his calculating gaze sweeping over the group. “If Historia goes, she won’t be going alone. And we’re not making any decisions about this right now. We still need to draft the message.”

Aurora glanced at Eren, who was visibly tense, his jaw clenched. She reached out and placed a hand on his arm, grounding him. “Eren, we have to at least consider it. If it’s the best way to make them listen…”

Eren looked down at her, his expression softening slightly, but he said nothing. The room remained quiet for a moment before Hange finally broke the silence.

“Alright, we’ll work on the wording of the invitation first,” Hange said, their tone firm but hopeful. “Once we have something solid, we’ll figure out the rest. But for now, we’ve got a direction, and that’s better than nothing.”

The room began to clear as everyone prepared to move on to the next steps, but the tension lingered, unspoken doubts and fears hanging heavy in the air.

Captain Levi motioned for Porco to stand. The clinking of his chains echoed through the room as Levi grabbed the end of the chain with an iron grip, ready to lead him back to his cell. Porco stood silently, not offering any resistance, but his jaw tightened slightly as he avoided looking at anyone in the room.

"Let’s go," Levi muttered, turning toward the door.

"Wait!" Historia's voice rang out, stopping everyone in their tracks. Levi froze and turned his sharp gaze toward her, one eyebrow raised.

"What now?" he asked, irritation clear in his tone.

Historia took a step forward, her hands clasped in front of her. "Please, Captain. Just give me some time with him. Porco’s been nothing but cooperative since he got here. He hasn’t shown any signs of hostility. You said it yourself during the interrogation."

Levi’s eyes narrowed. “That doesn’t mean I’m letting him roam around like some tourist. He’s still the enemy.”

“I understand that,” Historia said, her voice steady but imploring. “But we’ve been working together for months. He’s helped me more than anyone realizes. I just… I need to talk to him, Captain. Please.”

Levi tilted his head slightly, studying her with a cold, calculating stare. “Talk about what, exactly?”

“That’s personal,” Historia replied, straightening her back. “But it’s important.”

Levi’s gaze flicked between Historia and Porco. The Jaw Titan had a guarded expression, though there was a flicker of something—gratitude?—in his eyes as he glanced at Historia.

“No,” Levi said curtly, starting toward the door again. “He’s going back to his cell. You’ll have to make do with visiting him there.”

“Captain,” Historia pressed, stepping forward to block his path. “I’m still the Queen of this island, and I’m asking you to trust me.”

Levi stopped abruptly, the chain in his hand rattling as Porco nearly stumbled into him. He turned back to Historia, his face unreadable, though his jaw twitched slightly.

“This isn’t about trust,” Levi said, his voice low and dangerous. “This is about security. You’ve already been sneaking around with him for months, and look where that got us. Do you think I’m going to let you have another cozy chat with the enemy just because you ask nicely?”

“Please,” Historia repeated, her voice soft but unwavering. “I’m not asking for hours. Just a few minutes. You can even stand guard if that’ll make you feel better.”

Levi stared at her for what felt like an eternity, his icy gaze drilling into her, searching for any sign of weakness or deception. Finally, he let out a frustrated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Five minutes,” he said tersely. “And if he so much as breathes the wrong way, I’m cutting off his damn head. Got it?”

Historia nodded quickly. “Thank you, Captain.”

Levi shot a glare at Porco as he unlocked his chains, though he kept his blades sheathed at his sides. “Don’t try anything stupid,” he warned. “I’m not in the mood to deal with any more drama.”

Porco smirked faintly but didn’t say a word as Levi stepped back, folding his arms and leaning against the wall to observe.

Historia turned to Porco, her expression softening as she took a hesitant step toward him. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “For everything you’ve done. For me, for all of us.”

Porco shifted slightly, his usually confident demeanor replaced by something more uncertain. “You don’t need to thank me,” he muttered. “I did what I thought was right.”

“I know,” Historia said, her voice gentle. “That’s why I trust you.”

Levi, watching the exchange with narrowed eyes, tapped his foot against the floor. “Four minutes,” he muttered.

Historia gave Porco a small, reassuring smile before glancing back at Levi. “I’ll be quick.”

As they began to talk in hushed tones, Levi stayed true to his word, keeping an unrelenting watchful eye on Porco. He didn’t trust him, not even for a second, but something in Historia’s determination kept him from interfering—at least for now.

But as Levi leaned against the wall, he found his gaze drifting across the room. His sharp eyes landed on Floch as the young Jaegerist moved toward the exit, flanked by a pair of his ever-loyal lackeys.

Levi's expression soured. He had never liked Floch, not even before the young man had risen to prominence within the Jaegerists. Floch's arrogance, his blind devotion to Eren, and his unrelenting willingness to cross any line grated on Levi's nerves.

The disdain deepened after Floch spent a full month hunting him and Mikasa like they were prey. That act alone had solidified Levi's complete lack of respect for the man.

And now, there was something new that Levi couldn’t ignore. Floch’s growing animosity toward Aurora. It wasn’t always there—Floch had initially been indifferent toward her, treating her like little more than an extension of Eren. But over time, that indifference had twisted into something sharper, something uglier. Levi didn’t miss the way Floch’s gaze lingered on her during meetings, or the way his lip curled in disdain when her name came up in conversation.

Levi was certain Eren had noticed as well. Eren wasn’t the type to miss such things, especially when it involved Aurora. But Eren also wasn’t the type to do anything about it, at least not yet. Floch was too important to the Jaegerists. If Eren was the “king” of this little rebellion, Floch was its commander, its rallying point. The soldiers didn’t just listen to Floch—they followed him. And that was what worried Levi the most.

Levi’s sharp mind played out a dozen scenarios. What would happen if Eren and Floch found themselves at odds? Who would the Jaegerists side with? And where would that leave the rest of them?

"Doesn't matter," Levi muttered under his breath, forcing the thoughts away. "Let Eren deal with his own damn cult."

But what Levi couldn’t shake was the way Floch looked at Aurora. It wasn’t just dislike. It was contempt. Resentment. Hatred. Levi couldn’t stand it. Aurora had enough to deal with as it was—her past, her current position, and now this mysterious connection to the Founder that no one fully understood. The last thing she needed was someone like Floch making her life harder.

And much to Levi’s annoyance, he had come to care about Aurora in a way he hadn’t anticipated. It was the same camaraderie he felt toward the rest of his squad— protective, almost paternal. She was stubborn, naive at times, and had a tendency to stick her nose where it didn’t belong, but she also had a strength that reminded him of people he’d lost. People he failed to protect. He wasn’t about to let someone like Floch target her without stepping in.

As Floch reached the door, Levi called out, his voice sharp and commanding. “Floch.”

Floch froze, turning slightly with a raised brow. “Yes, Captain?” His tone carried that same mocking edge it always did when addressing Levi, the kind of tone that made Levi’s fingers itch for his blades.

“Keep walking,” Levi said flatly, his eyes narrowing. “And stay out of things that don’t concern you.”

Floch’s expression darkened, and for a moment, it looked like he might argue. But something in Levi’s gaze must have warned him off because he simply nodded once and continued out of the room.

Levi watched him go, his jaw tight. He’d have to keep an eye on Floch. And if the little bastard stepped out of line—especially where Aurora was concerned—Levi wouldn’t hesitate to put him in his place.

He waited impatiently for Historia and Porco to wrap up their time together. He was already annoyed that they’d spent this long, and his patience was hanging by a thread. Just as he moved to step forward and call time, Mikasa approached him, her boots barely making a sound against the floor.

“Captain,” she said quietly, her tone laced with urgency.

He glanced at her, sharp and inquisitive. “What is it, Mikasa?”

Mikasa hesitated for only a second before continuing. “I just wanted to tell you… I saw Floch a few hours ago. He was outside Aurora and Eren’s quarters… with two other Jaegerists.”

Levi’s gaze darkened immediately. “Go on.”

“They were talking about Aurora,” Mikasa explained, her voice low but firm. “I couldn’t hear everything, but I caught enough. Floch mentioned her name—he called her a distraction. A liability. He doesn’t trust her, and he’s trying to rile others up against her.”

Levi’s jaw tightened, his expression hardening further. “Tch. That little bastard.”

Mikasa’s own frustration was evident in her tense posture. “He’s dangerous, Captain. Especially now. The Jaegerists listen to him. If he decides to target Aurora, it won’t just be him—it’ll be them too.”

Levi let out a slow, deliberate breath, his sharp eyes flicking toward the door Floch had left through earlier. He wasn’t surprised by Mikasa’s report—it only confirmed what he’d already suspected. Floch was a threat, not just to Aurora but to the fragile balance they were trying to maintain among the Jaegerists, the scouts, and Eren’s inner circle.

“He’s been crossing lines for a while now,” Levi muttered, his tone low and dangerous. “Hunting me and you for a month wasn’t enough, apparently. Now he thinks he can mess with Aurora.”

Mikasa nodded. “I didn’t want to bring this up earlier, but I think he’s been trying to sow distrust in Eren too. Floch sees Aurora as a weakness, something that’s pulling Eren away from the goal. If he keeps this up—”

Levi raised a hand to stop her. “I know. He’s testing the limits. And if he pushes too far, I’ll handle it.”

Mikasa didn’t doubt Levi’s words for a second. If anyone could handle Floch, it was Levi. But there was something about the situation that unsettled her. “Do you think Eren knows?”

Levi’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Of course he does. He’s not an idiot. But Eren’s keeping Floch around for the same reason I haven’t cut him down yet. The Jaegerists need someone like Floch to rally them.”

“Even if it’s at Aurora’s expense?” Mikasa asked pointedly.

Levi’s eyes flashed. “No. That’s where I draw the line.”

Before Mikasa could respond, Historia and Porco emerged from their quiet corner. Porco looked irritated at being interrupted, but Historia gave Levi an apologetic look as she stood beside her companion.

“Time’s up,” Levi said flatly, stepping forward to grip Porco by the arm. His movements were firm but not rough. “Back to your cell.”

Porco shot a glance at Historia, clearly reluctant to leave, but Levi wasn’t about to entertain any arguments. “Don’t even start,” Levi warned, his tone like a blade.

As Levi began to lead Porco away, Mikasa’s gaze followed Floch’s trail out of the room. Her grip tightened around the hilt of her blade. “Be careful, Levi,” she said softly. “Floch is dangerous.”

Levi glanced back at her, his expression as sharp as ever. “I know. But if he tries anything stupid, he’ll learn the hard way what happens when you step out of line.”

Mikasa nodded, her trust in Levi unwavering. But in the pit of her stomach, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Floch wasn’t going to stop until he got what he wanted.

…

Aurora sat at her workbench, the faint glow of a lantern casting a warm light over the collection of vials, herbs, and jars of carefully labeled powders. Her hands moved with practiced precision as she poured a shimmering liquid into a small glass flask, but her mind was far from her work. Thoughts of the Azumabito plan swirled in her head, a strange mix of hope and anxiety tightening her chest.

Could it really work? Was it too good to be true?

She didn’t want to let herself believe too much in the idea, but it was impossible not to feel a flicker of optimism. Aurora never wanted the rumbling. The sheer devastation of it haunted her, the image of entire cities reduced to rubble and innocent lives crushed beneath titan feet. She couldn’t bear the thought of Eren carrying the guilt and weight of billions of lives on his shoulders.

But now, because of Historia and Porco, maybe—just maybe—they had a real shot at another path. The possibility filled her with a cautious lightness, one she hadn’t felt in weeks. Her lips curved into a small, hopeful smile as she reached for another ingredient, a faint hum of a melody escaping her lips.

The soft creak of the door opening drew her out of her thoughts, and she glanced up to see Eren stepping into the workshop. His sharp eyes softened as they met hers, a rare smile playing at his lips when he saw the brightness in her demeanor. He leaned against the doorframe for a moment, silently watching her before approaching.

“You seem happy,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a note of curiosity.

Aurora looked over her shoulder at him, her smile widening. “I was just thinking...about the plan. It might actually work, Eren. We might have a real chance.”

Eren moved behind her without a word, wrapping his strong arms around her waist and pulling her gently against his chest. His hands rested on her growing belly, his touch firm yet careful, as though he were cradling the most precious thing in the world. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, pressing a kiss to her skin.

The sudden contact made Aurora giggle, her cheeks flushing. “Eren! That tickles!” she squealed, trying to wriggle out of his grasp, but he only tightened his hold, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest.

“Stop moving,” he murmured against her ear, his tone teasing yet affectionate. “I’m trying to hold my wife.”

Aurora stilled, her hands instinctively covering his as they rested on her belly. She leaned back into him, her earlier anxiety melting away in his embrace. “You don’t think it’ll work, do you?” she asked softly, her voice tinged with a mixture of hope and worry.

Eren didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he kissed her neck again, slower this time, as if savoring the moment. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice quiet and honest. “I still think the world will stab us in the back the first chance they get.”

Aurora’s smile faltered, but she didn’t pull away. “Maybe they will,” she said after a moment. “But isn’t it worth trying? If there’s even the smallest chance we can avoid the rumbling, isn’t it worth it?”

Eren tightened his arms around her, his jaw clenching as he considered her words. He hated how much she believed in this plan. Hated it because he wanted her to be right, and yet the cynic in him couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all a trap. Still, seeing her so light, so full of hope, he couldn’t bring himself to crush that spark. Not now.

“You’re too good for this world, you know that?” he said quietly, resting his chin on her shoulder.

Aurora laughed softly, the sound easing some of the tension in his chest. “You always say that, but I don’t think it’s true. I just...want to believe there’s something better out there for us. For everyone.”

Eren kissed her cheek, lingering for a moment before pulling back slightly to look at her. “For you and our baby,” he said firmly. “That’s what I care about most.”

Aurora turned in his arms, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. “I know,” she whispered, her gaze searching his. “But if this plan works, it’s not just for us. It’s for all of us.”

Eren didn’t respond, but his hand moved to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin. For a moment, he let himself hope, if only because she believed enough for the both of them.

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totallyanopossum · 3 days ago

Text

Call of duty

Ghost babysits

WC: 1.3k

Link to story master post

Warning: mentions of drug use, addiction, sexual content

Note: solo smut scene

Part 6, home alone

3 days later their teams packing up to go on a mission. Price calls her down to talk to her, he's planning on leaving her on her own, that's why he had Ghost stay over. It was a test run to see how she'd do without someone who knows her past watching and she passed with flying colors.

Y/N-“ so what's up?”

P- “ we've got a mission real soon and I know I've been overprotective but I trust you and think your ready to be on your own this time”

She never thought she'd hear him say that, not only that he trusts her but acknowledging his behavior. She's so used to being lied to and manipulated that someone taking responsibility for their actions is a surreal experience.

Y/N-“ th..thank you, this means a lot, i wont let you down”

P- “ it's okay to slip and fall along the way, as long as you keep trying and getting back up. I'm sorry if i ever pressured you made, you think one slip up is a disappointment, this is new for me”

Y/N-“ this is a learning experience for both of us, i think we're doing good”

P- “ yeah”

Y/N-“ so how long will you be gone”

P- “ a week or so can't really know till we're headed home”

Y/N-“ okay”

-💀Simon❤️‍🔥-

Hey

Hey lovie

Heard you got a mission soon

Yeah we leave tomorrow

Good luck come back to me

Nothing could keep me from you

When your back I wanna see you

I already miss you so much

Me too lovie me too,

once back I won't make you wait long

It's weird having the house to herself, she hasn't been left alone this long since before rehab and even then she has never liked being all alone, it kinda creeps her out. Being left alone with her thoughts is a torturous trial she's never done well at.

When Ghost was ‘babysitting’ she couldn't always hear or sense where he was because of how stealthy he is but she knew he was there somewhere. But now she knows she's all alone, alone with just herself and there's a reason even before rehab she was always around others, when she's alone all that's left is her mind, and her mind is greatest enemy.

Getting clean wasn't easy, she's drawn to anything that takes away the pain. She can't remember most of her psychotic break but it's still got its claws in her, the call to drugs, and now left all alone with her thoughts she's starting to have strong cravings.

Knowing no one is coming home to stop her, to catch her, scares her so badly she goes to a meeting. She keeps this up going to a meeting every day, figures if she's busy doing that and getting support then she can't go find something to swallow, inhale, or snort.

When she's not at meetings she's drawing, doing yoga, baking, dancing to music, and has doubled her walks now taking one in the evening too. She usually keeps a relaxed, very free schedule but now she's packing her days so full there's no time for anything else. No time for her mind to wonder and torture her, no time to think of drugs, no time to go score them, no time to worry about Simon and Price.

She's got the days covered but the nights,she can't escape her mind during the nights. All she can do is put on her sleep playlist, hug onto the pillow Simon used, focus on counting her breaths and hope she can fall asleep before 4 am.

A week has gone by and still no word but she's not worried, well not yet at least, she promised herself she wouldn't worry until the 3 week mark. But she really hopes they get home soon, her sleep has been extra shitty and she needs a night of sleeping with Simon. Wither it's just sleeping cuddled up or being fucked till passing out, both resulted in excellent sleep and she needs that.

Almost at the 2 week mark and the packing her day's full routine is wearing her down and the crappy sleep is not helping. So today she switches things up, she needs to feel something good, needs some oxytocin.

She lays down her towel, gets her rose toy and thinks of her man. First time she did this she was just imagining what it would be like with him, but now she's been with him and knows exactly what it's like, fueling her even more.

She dims the lights, puts on some music to set the mood, not having to care if someone overhears.

Legs spread open, one hand rolling her nipple between her thumb and pointer finger the other applying her rose to her swollen clit.

She never thought something could top the rose but Simon working his tongue on her is just something else, but she'll just have to make do without him for now.

Her light moans turn to whines of need, she needs more. She feels so empty now knowing just how full she can feel. She gets up and digs through her still till she finds the hidden velvet bag stuffed in the back of her underwear drawer.

The metals cold to the touch but it's just what she needs, Simon's stretched her cunt to only be satisfied by him now, so a butt plug is just what needs. She hasn't played with her ass in ages so she'll have to go with a smaller plug.

Laying on her side, leg up, using her own slick arousal as lubrication she slowly pushes the cold metal plug into her tight ass. The stretch is euphoric, making memories of Simon painfully stretching her out flash before her. Letting out sinful moans as the plugs fully in and she's clenching around it.

She always orgasms so quickly when she has something in her ass, but she wants to enjoy them, make it last. So she sets her rose aside and uses her fingers. They easily glide into her sopping wet cunt as she starts pumping 2 fingers in and out.

Her core tightening, clenching down hard, pussy dripping, toes curling, bottom lip bloody from biting, head thrown back, as she reaches her peak calling out Simon's name and a mess of unrestrained moans.

She's panting as she comes down from her release, she finally got the hit she was craving, oxytocin isn't Oxy but this was better. Once calms down, coming down from her high she looks at the mess she made and a sinful thought crosses her mind. She wants to snap a picture and send it to Simon but he explained she won't be able to reach him till he's home so it's no use doing that.

She cleans up her bed and goes to shower but leaves her plug in, she used to love wearing one on the regular and had even managed to stretch up to a decent size, but her ex hated it, called her a bunch of nasty things but she has a feeling Simon won't have a problem with this.

She takes a long shower just closing her eyes and enjoying the feeling of the water falling over her still sensitive body. This leads to round 2 with the handheld shower head held to her puffy sensitive clit peppering it with water, she's so glad she left her plug in. She orgasms hard screaming out, grabbing onto the edge of the shower bench as she squirts. She knows she's able to but it's been ages, she feels lightheaded and takes a while to recover and finishes her shower.

She spends the rest of the day in bed drawing and watching a show enjoying her oxytocin bliss.

Sorry for the wait and short chapter lifes been getting crazier then usually

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #ao3 #call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #simon x reader #simon ghost x you #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #call of duty fic #totallyanopossum writting #smutty fanfiction #smut scene #solo smut scene #ghost babysits

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