#n in a decent amount of pain also

[apricot-the-apricat]

This was originally gonna be a specific scene from an rp but then i zoned out and a full nighttime background just appeared out of nowhere (the scene was in that setting but daytime) and then i was just like ok fuck it im gonna just do whatever now so yea thats how i ended up adding lighting too n here we are now

go easy on me i was fully just winging it (hah) throughout the entire piece im still tryina figure out how sai works lol

[the-xolotl]

Take It Right.

Alastor x fem!reader

ᯓღ Warm-up snip — gift idea for my wife @denki-69

ᯓღ a/n: you got me; i love writing for Denki. at this point this is my entire life’s purpose. it’s to write filth with or for Denki.

SUMMARY: Alastor helps you take his knot when it’s still too big for you to take.

ᯓღ cw: knotting, womb fucking, cervix stretching, slight cumflation, slight mention of blood.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED ON SIGHT. Thank you~♡

“You can take it sweetheart, I know you can,” he laughed lowly, radio filter tickling in your ear. Your eyes roll back feeling him put more pressure on your hips and feeling his fat cock sink in deeper. The knot at the base of his length had swollen impossibly large and it’s teasing at your entrance the further down he forces you. Admittedly, you’re a bit terrified at the sheer size of the stretch his cock already spread you, but the added circumference of the knot had you trembling from more than just pleasure.

“A-Al please… I can’t—” you know begging and pleading for mercy is useless. He’s made up his mind, and deep down you wanted it. It was the surface fear that currently wouldn’t let you simply let go. Even as you tried to relax feeling every inch go into your soaked pussy made you clench.

“Here,” he purred, guiding your hand between your legs, “Follow my rhythm, let go, focus on my voice,” his voice sent a delicious shiver down your spine. He pressed your fingers against your throbbing clit, rubbing in tight circles to help ease the aching pain that’s his knot pressing against your hole.

He’s so close to having his entire length inside you and it’s taking him all of his composure to not shove you down; you know, make you bleed now and apologize for it later. But he didn’t want to do that to you. Instead he’s taking his time; the amount of foreplay and eating out had you wet enough to make a stain on the bed and he had stretched you out a decent amount. And as much as he loved your snug cunt, the only draw back would have to be this.

Even still, it’s maddening how good and warm you feel sucking his cock in, the way you cried and moaned his name. He reveled in your trembling figure sitting on his lap basically fucked dumb when all he’s done is ease you down half his dick. And even with the attention to your puffy bud it’s already making you clench, you’re going to cum again. With your body tensing and back arching he feels your orgasm and juices dripping down him. You nearly right down scream already feeling overstimulated and overwhelmed.

He took the opportunity to thrust up into your waiting heat, the tip of his cock pressing and pushing a past your cervix made your entire body spasm. His tendrils shot out to grab you, pressing you harder against Alastor’s chest, keeping your legs spread open over his lap and a gag to keep in your high-pitch cries.

The searing warmth and tightness of your sex made him moan out your name. Truly the prettiest sounds you have ever heard now that he’s successfully nuzzled his knot inside you and is spilling deep into your waiting womb.

You feel his hot cum fill you up to the brim but the knot stopped it from spilling out. You’re fighting hard against your restrains; it’s painful as much as it’s arousing and pleasurable that the radio demon has forced his way inside you. Big, warm tears begin to fall even wetting his cheek as you seek to hide your face into the side of his neck for comfort.

Being a little dazed himself he’s barely babbling praises and coos, “That’s a good girl, that’s my girl. See? You fit perfectly. Made just for me.” They aren’t even coherent full thoughts but you sob and keen at his words.

When you feel a pressure in your belly the hand that had been rubbing at your clit goes to press on your belly. Swollen, full of cum. Full of his fawn. You’re clenching and cumming again. Alastor sucks in a breath, he needs to also take a minute from the overwhelming ecstasy, the hold on your hips only gets tighter, his claws begin to break skin and warm red liquid slowly drips down your thigh.

© 2024 the-xolotl — all rights reserved. do NOT alter, translate, or repost my works on any platform without my consent, do not claim my content as yours.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 29

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Slightly graphic depictions of labor and childbirth A/N: Maybe a cliffhanger. Maybe not. You'll have to read to find out! ;) Daryl is definitely ooc in this. I'm sorry, I tried to get as close as I could to how he might react. Also, the saying he uses is one we use in the south that means "how is that relevant?" You'll know it when you read it, lol.

“About 4cm now. Progressing nicely.” Hershel informed, wiping his hands on a cloth that Carol had provided. 

Rick and T-Dog were out doing yet another night run in the van. It was also low on fuel but the map showed another town close by. Fuel, gloves, and other necessities were on the list. Glenn was on watch with Daryl for backup if anything happened. It wasn’t an ideal situation but it couldn’t be helped.

Thumper was calling the shots at that point. 

Before the men had left, Daryl had confiscated all the blankets except for those that were for Lori and Carl. When Glenn began to complain, one look from the anxiety-driven archer had brought the young man very close to hiding behind Rick. While some blankets were used for your comfort, others were fashioned into a tent-like structure over the bare branches of a decently sized bush. You needed some sense of privacy. 

Carol and Lori had dug through the maternity clothes that hadn’t been lost on the road and found a button up dress. It was comfortable and made things much easier than leggings. 

After your immediate needs had been met, Daryl then perched himself just beside your shoulder and hadn’t moved since. 

“S’the number we’re aimin’ for?” He asked with frustration lacing his tone, making sure the blankets were back over you and tucked tight to keep you warm. He had been muttering to himself how he wished he had made time to read the rest of the books. Daryl was not a man that liked being in the dark on anything. It made him feel helpless, as you had learned over the last several months. 

“She needs to be at 10cm and the baby needs to be in the correct position before she can push.” The old man positioned the ear tubes of the stethoscope before pressing it against several spots on your belly. “Heart beat is strong. Everything is looking good.”

You had remained quiet until that moment. “Do I just—I don’t know—lay here?”

“Walking encourages the cervix to dilate and soften. Once you dilate a little further, the contractions will likely be stronger, whether painful or not.” The calmness that man practiced really made you want to strangle him with that stethoscope. “Make sure you don’t go alone, and—”

“She ain’t.” Daryl snapped. 

Hershel shot him an admonishing look. “As I was saying, take breaks. Sleep when you can. I’ll check you periodically. You’ll need to keep timing the contractions, son.” Daryl nodded. “Sip small amounts of water, no food. Keep me informed of any changes. And as unpleasant as it may sound, if you feel the pressure and urge as if you may need to have a bowel movement, call for me immediately.”

You, as well as Daryl, reared back, lips curling. 

“The fuck that gotta do with the price’a fish?” The archer queried, not so nicely. 

“Settle down. The pressure from the baby’s head moving into the birth canal can feel similar to that.” Shaking his head, Hershel shuffled his way out of your tiny tent. 

Finally alone, you turned onto your side and scooted your upper body toward Daryl. He stretched out his legs so you could rest on his thigh. 

“Get some rest.” His hand wiggled beneath the blanket and rubbed up and down the length of your upper arm, but moved to your belly when another contraction took over. Without prompting, he slid his warm palm around to your lower back and applied the least bit of pressure, rubbing small circles. You buried your face into his thigh to ride it out, but you had to admit the light massaging helped, if only a little. 

“You’re supposed to be—” You were panting when you rolled your head to remind him, but found the watch already lifted to eye level, his gaze shifting from it to your stomach. 

“Sleep if ya can. I got this.” His brow was furrowed in concentration, your heart swelling and warm. Any worry you had entertained of him running when things got real, just gone in an instant. He was there. He was there. 

“I’ll try.” You whispered, the pain finally an afterthought. You felt him slide his hand back to the side of your stomach before you let yourself succumb to exhaustion. 

“Sorry, Sunshine. Doc says up, so up ya get.”

You let Daryl take your dead weight and pull you up by a grip beneath your arms, making it as difficult as possible so you might get to stay in your warm little nest. You were still at 4cm. Hershel had said you had to start walking to help labor progress. 

“This isn’t fair.” You whined, rubbing your back once you were upright. The pain that accompanied each contraction had lessened but was still ever present. “Can’t you walk and I dilate?”

Daryl snorted. “Don’t think that’s how it works.” He placed a careful hand on the small of your back and kept your pace, slow as it was. 

“Okay, then how about if it gets worse, I kick you in the balls and punch you in the kidneys so you can participate properly?” You were only half joking. 

“If it gets ya through this, I guess.” The archer shrugged. You regarded him with a skeptical brow arched. 

“You’d really let me do that?”

“Hell nah, but s’the thought that counts or some shit like that, right?” He didn’t even try to dodge the smack you aimed at his shoulder. 

“You’re hilarious.” You deadpanned, even as you leaned into him while you strolled in circles around the perimeter. The moonlight caught the watch in his right hand, his finger tapping against the casing. Bless him, he was taking his role of supportive partner very seriously. You gasped when the next contraction came, stopping to bend slightly and breathe through it while Daryl secured an arm around you and flipped open the watch. 

When it was clear you weren’t falling, he slid his hand to the middle of your back and massaged the length of your spine using gentle pressure from the heel of his palm. He never said much—if anything—during the episodes themselves, but kept you informed of the timing of each one. 

“Oh, goddamnit, this one sucks.” You managed through clenched teeth. You swayed slightly when it was over, grasping blindly for the man next to you. 

“Thirteen minutes since the last’un. A minute, twelve.” He was slow and careful when turning you back toward camp. “Let’s getcha back to Hershel.” 

You shook your head. “One last loop, then we can go back.” Daryl didn’t say anything but you felt him tense. “I’m sure. They’re just getting a little more painful in the stomach, less in the back.” 

He still hesitated. “Alright. One more.”

Hershel stepped into your path before you started the second loop, allowing Daryl to fill him in on the last contraction. 

“Do one more. Rest. And then again.” The old man ordered curtly. 

Once he had vanished back toward the small fire, you mocked his words. “Rest and then again.” Daryl shook his head beside you. “I mean seriously, how much help can walking actually be?”

“Fuuuuuck!” You were digging your fingers into the blankets below you, swatting away Carol’s hand when she tried to dab your face with a piece of cloth. Daryl was sitting beside you, wide-eyed and lost, the watch forgotten by his leg. Hershel was between your knees, sporting his medical gloves that had been brought back by Rick and T-Dog. 

The archer cleared his throat. “She alright?” 

“Do I look alright, Daryl?!” You hissed, making an admirable attempt at breathing the way Carol was instructing. The contraction finally ended and you fell back onto the folded blankets. “I’m sorry.” You found his worried blue eyes easily and fumbled for his hand. 

“S’okay.” He whispered, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. 

“She’s at 6cm. We can still time the contractions but I think she may need your attention more than that watch does now.” Hershel reached for the item and placed it in his pocket once Daryl handed it over. “Keep moving but stay closer, no more perimeter walks.”

Daryl nodded, you whimpered. 

“I’ll be back soon to check again. If we’re lucky, things will move a little faster now that you’re in active labor.” Hershel left the tent while Carol fixed your dress. 

“I know it hurts, but you two will have little Thumper in your arms in just a matter of hours.” She smoothed your hair and tucked it behind your ears. “You’re doing great.”

“I don’t feel like I’m doing great.” You murmured, ducking your head almost bashfully. “I’m really sorry I snapped at you, Daryl. It just—well, it hurts and it’s hard to think.”

“Ain’t mad.” He tried for a half smile but it was weak. “Better than gettin’ kicked in the balls, I reckon.” You laughed and squeezed his hand. “Guess we oughtta getcha up again.”

“I’ll help.” Carol offered. You could see that a refusal was on the tip of Daryl’s tongue but he never voiced it. With Carol under one arm and Daryl under the other, you were pulled upright. 

Your body already felt wrung out and sore, and the epic finale hadn’t even begun. Still, you allowed Carol to pass you off to Daryl. 

“We movin’ on? Be better to find a house or somethin’.” He looped an arm around your back, following as you shuffled your way around. 

Carol shrugged, not touching you but keeping up with your small strides. “Both vehicles have fuel but Hershel isn’t sure we should move her. He thinks the baby will come soon and she needs to be kept in one place.”

You groaned, letting your head fall back in frustration. “She is right here. And if my opinion matters, I’d rather not—” The contraction came on strong, halting you suddenly with your hand fisting into the lower part of Daryl’s vest. The archer stepped around in front of you, rough but gentle hands grasping your wrists to guide your arms to his shoulders. 

“Try to breathe. Sometimes humming or even moaning helps, like an outlet.” Carol advised while rubbing your back. 

Your head fell forward against Daryl’s chest, a deep but quiet moan muffled against the firm muscle beyond his shirt. His hands had fallen to your hips, his body followed you as you swayed back and forth. The episodes were growing more intense, coming closer together and lasting longer. It wasn’t difficult to surmise that things would be growing more difficult to handle. 

“Ain’t nothin’ we can do for ‘er?” Daryl asked quietly above you, each word blowing his warm breath over the top of your head. Carol must have answered in the negative because his fingers flexed against your hips. 

The skin of your belly was pulled so tightly that you swore it would tear open, the muscles feeling as if they would pulse right out of the gaping hole your torn flesh would leave. 

“Shit.” You whimpered, your voice finding its way back during the last dregs of pain. You almost didn’t register warm hands gliding up and down your sides, a smaller hand on your back. “I don’t want to have the baby here.” You argued weakly. “It’s too open. Things will be too chaotic, too loud.”

“I know, Sunshine, but the doc says—”

“I don’t want to risk Thumper here in the open, Daryl. With—with walkers or people.” With enough strength having returned after the pain, you lifted your head, eyes pleading. “Please.”

The archer was visibly upset. He was just as vulnerable as you were at that moment, torn between what he felt was right and what Hershel said was for the best. His tongue wet his bottom lip before he pulled it in between his teeth, looking to Carol for guidance. 

“Could lay down the seats in the van. Use the back.” He suggested. “Plenty’a room an’ if we need to move fast—”

“I don’t think that’s unreasonable.” Carol agreed, rubbing your back in a few soft strokes before beginning to move away. “I’ll go talk to Hershel. You two keep walking.”

You watched her go, turning your gaze up to Daryl when he shifted back to your side to urge you along. “Gotta keep movin’.” You groaned, dragging your feet with your head falling back in frustration. 

You were in the middle of a contraction, when you heard it. A snarl, a raspy growl much too close. You were already clinging to Daryl and breathing through the pain that was readying your body for Thumper’s arrival, but you’d have to let him go. He had to protect the baby. And to do that, he had to protect you. 

But he didn’t move. He was nearly vibrating, rigid beneath your hands on his shoulders. He was just as scared as you were, even more so. He knew he could take the walker but that would mean letting you go. He needed to protect you but he wanted to support you. He had told you he'd never let you fall and you knew he had meant it.

“Go.” Your hands slid from his shoulders, down his chest before they released him completely to clutch your belly.

His boots disappeared from your view of the ground but you couldn’t focus after that. The pain was growing in intensity, immobilizing you with your lips tightly pressed to withhold the cries that vibrated behind your teeth for release. You couldn’t, you just couldn’t make a sound. You’d attract more, endanger everyone. You’d endanger Thumper. Daryl. 

There were scuffles. More snarls. Tears were threatening your waterline. Pain was coursing through you like a serpent, slithering around each muscle and tendon and pulling them tight. You felt disappointment and guilt over all the agony when your mouth fell open with a guttural moan, your will to cut off the scream that begged to follow barely holding true. 

“D—Daryl.” You cried out. And he was there, hands on your face, your biceps, your belly. 

“M’here. M’here. Gotta move, though.” He swept you up with the slightest strained noise. “Gonna getcha to the van. Gonna find somewhere safe for ya.” The pain was fading. You could focus on the dark blood on his face, the dirt and grime. 

“Herd?” You whispered. 

“Ain’t your fault.” His expression emanated fear and stress. “The hatch.” Someone was with him. The small hands that opened the back of the van and spread out the blankets, those were Carol’s. She sat a pile of smaller blankets and squares of fabric toward the indents on the floor where the seats had been stowed. 

“Get as many in the truck as you can! In the cab and the bed!” Rick was calling out at the same time that Hershel climbed into the van. Daryl was careful when he placed you inside, climbing over you before pulling you further in to make room for Hershel and Carol. 

Through your haze of exhaustion, you saw Rick climb in the driver's seat and Maggie beside him. That meant that five others had to somehow fit into the truck. 

“Is everyone okay?” You asked, eyes pleading with Daryl for an honest answer. 

“Yeah, they’re all good.” He nodded, smoothing a hand over your hair. 

The van was moving, though you didn’t realize when it had started. Hershel was between your knees when another contraction came. It felt like only moments had passed since the last one. In the safety of the van, though you couldn’t be bothered to consider that, you bowed forward with a scream. Daryl gingerly worked your fingers loose from the blanket to take your hand. 

“She’s at 9cm. This baby is coming soon.” Hershel didn’t move this time, he and Carol began sorting things that you couldn’t see. Panting, you leaned to the side, knowing Daryl would be there. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and squeezed. 

“What—” He swallowed audibly. “Tell me what I need to do.” 

“Just be with her.” Carol poured some water from a bottle onto a piece of fabric and passed it across you for Daryl to take. “Wipe her face, put it behind her neck.”

The archer’s hand was trembling fiercely when you felt the blessed cool cloth touch your forehead. The moan that left you was not one of pain but utter relief. “Oh, that’s nice.” You breathed. Your skin was on fire, every cell of your being felt twisted and wrong. But that trembling cloth wiping at your face grounded you, centered you around what your body was preparing to do. 

You were so close to being a mother. 

But that didn’t stop the scream that ripped from your throat when the next contraction tore through you. You sat up, propped on your elbows with your eyes screwed shut. Tears leaked from the corners, the wailing cutting off into wretched sobs when you felt Daryl’s forehead fall against the crown of your head, his mantra of m’sorry m’sorry m’sorry shattering you into a million shards. 

You couldn’t tell him it was okay. You couldn’t remind him why you hurt. You couldn’t reassure him that he was the one you wanted and you were more than happy to do this with him. For him. You didn’t have the breath. 

“Don’t push, Y/N. Not yet.” Hershel’s tone was even but not cruel, his gloved hands on your knees. 

“It fucking burns!” You shrieked, squeezing Daryl’s hand until you were certain you felt the bones shift. The contraction let up, the fiery sensation dulling but ever present. 

“What’s happenin’?” Daryl sounded breathless. Terrified. You were still catching your breath when you looked up at him. His tan skin was white as a sheet, no color in his lips. His blue eyes were brighter than you’d ever seen them. From tears or fear, you couldn’t be sure. 

“The baby’s in the right position. Y/N, it’ll be time to push soon. It’ll be very important for you to listen to everything I say. Can you do that?” Hershel wasn’t looking at you, between moving around things Carol was handing to him and keeping a constant eye on your progress. Distantly, you wondered why it was Carol at his side and not Maggie. Maybe because you were close with Carol? For your comfort? 

“Yeah. Yeah, I can.” You turned your attention back to Daryl when his grip on your hand loosened slightly. He swayed, the pallor of his skin growing more concerning. “Daryl?”

The archer shook his head almost violently. “M’good.”

“Okay, I just—oh, fuck, already!?” You grit your teeth as your stomach tightened, a visible shift beneath the fabric of your dress. 

“Maggie, can you climb back here?” Hershel requested calmly. His eldest said nothing but maneuvered her way into the back and on your opposite side. “I fear we may lose Daryl at any moment and Y/N will need support.”

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Daryl snapped but it was a weak effort. He inhaled deeply and began squeezing your hand to keep you from dislocating his fingers. 

“Here.” Carol passed him an opened bottle of water. “Drink a few sips. You’re white as a ghost.”

You were barely aware of everything happening around you, shaking almost violently to refrain from bearing down until Hershel told you to do so. It was bordering on excruciating. 

“Jesus Christ, it feels like you’re holding a flamethrower to my fucking pussy!” 

Hershel sighed while Maggie and Carol chuckled and Daryl snorted out a quiet nice, Y/N. 

“It’s just the birth canal stretching to make room for the baby.” The veterinarian explained coolly. 

“Just?” You mocked. “Just, he says while it’s my—oh Jesus fuck!” With all the presence of mind you could summon, you managed not to start screaming at Daryl for putting you in that position. You knew that beyond the pain and fear, you wanted Thumper in your arms more than anything in that fucked up world. 

“Okay, Y/N,” Hershel patted your bare knees just at the tail end of the contraction to ensure he had your attention. You had fallen back against Maggie while Daryl held the cool cloth against the back of your neck. His hand was vibrating your skull to the point that you nearly asked him to move away. “You’re ready. On the next contraction, you need to push.”

“God, your calm voice makes me want to kick you in the teeth.” You didn’t mean it—mostly. Hershel must have known that because he chuckled. You could feel the next contraction already building when the van lurched to a stop, throwing everyone in it. 

“We got a herd in front of us!” Rick called from the front. 

“Go ‘round it! Turn ‘round! Just keep ‘em off us!” Daryl yelled as the pain peaked. “Fuck!” He bellowed when your hand began to shake with how hard you squeezed his own. 

“Push!” Hershel shouted over the bumps and jerks of the van doing whatever Rick had deemed best. “Good, good!” He began to countdown from ten while you screamed.

You were being torn open. Thumper was going to rip you in half on their way out. Your throat was raw, surely bleeding from your wails. When the old man reached one, you fell back against Maggie but Daryl’s hand was there too. 

“Maggie, Daryl, hold behind her knees. Help support her legs. It’ll keep her hips open.” Both moved forward, taking you with them to sit you up a little straighter. Daryl had to release your hand to hold you and your leg. The archer hissed with the pressure against his abused palm. “Perfect. Alright, Y/N. A nice, strong push this time.”

You almost snarled. “Last one wasn’t good enough?”

“Easy, Sunshine.” You felt Daryl's lips against your temple and yearned to keep them there. 

“I’m sorry, Hershel.” Once again, the man simply smiled. Lori had told you that childbirth in the movies was often dramatized but so far, you weren’t seeing the truth in that statement. When the contraction reached a crescendo, you leaned forward while Maggie and Daryl held your legs steady. The pain was extraordinary. You almost wished you could see what was happening, but any train of thought was derailed with Hershel’s next words.

“The baby is crowning!” 

Gasping, you swallowed hard, glancing at Daryl—who had a front row seat to what was happening—and then back to Hershel. “Crowning?”

“The head will be out soon.” 

“All this and we don’t even have the head out?!” You screeched, just as your stomach rippled into a rigid mound and you were pushing again. This pain was different. Thumper was definitely ripping you apart. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! It burns!”

“S’that—” Daryl cleared his throat and swallowed, swaying on the spot. “S’that normal?”

“Perfectly normal.” Hershel glanced up at the archer, back down, and then up again. “Carol.” He needn’t say anything else. The other woman was moving to grab the back of your leg and let Daryl fall against her so he didn’t smack his head on the side of the van.

You were completely unaware, your entire focus centered on the inferno between your legs. There was no way any woman would willingly do this unmedicated. Never in your life had you wanted drugs more than you did in that moment. Thumper. Thumper, Thumper. You chanted internally, even as your vocal chords vibrated harshly with your screams. And just as you thought you would lose consciousness from the pain, it lessened. It hadn’t disappeared but comparatively, you would take that over the prior. 

“The head is out!” 

Panting, you smiled but then fell into confusion when you saw Carol beside your leg and Daryl slumped against her. “Daryl? Daryl?!” You shifted but Maggie held you still. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine.” Hershel chuckled. 

“Who knew a man that could gut a walker without batting an eye couldn’t watch his baby’s head come out?” Carol smiled but began to act, jerking her shoulder to jar the archer. “Daryl. Daryl, wake up. You don’t want to miss this.” He stirred and started to lean back. “Think you can take a look without losing it again?”

“Shuddup.” He shook his head hard, grunting. His hand was the first thing to move, sliding beneath Carol’s to take hold of your leg. Then he was looking at you. “M’sorry. That was—fuck, m’a pussy.” Maggie was moving your hand and pulling you forward as you watched your partner. 

Then your fingers were touching a soft, albeit slimy, head. 

You gasped. “Daryl.”

The man gulped, but then sat up on his knees a little. You watched the fear and apprehension melt away into awe, his jaw loosening, eyebrows rising, and eyes beginning to shine. “S’that—”

“That’s Thumper.” You were able to say before Hershel announced your miniscule break was over. He didn’t need to say a word, your body was already letting you know. Daryl’s hold felt stronger now and he was watching with an awestruck intensity that just made your heart want to explode even as you rode out the waves of agony. You were going to be a little family.

Then, out of the blue, you could feel something was different, wrong.

“Her—Hershel—Ow, fuck—” You fingers clawed at Daryl’s chest, his wet eyes going wide with concern. The contraction ended and you were gasping and swallowing convulsively, feeling nauseous regardless of your lack of food. Daryl’s eyes were darting back and forth between you and the old man. “Daryl, something—something’s wrong.” You could tell the baby had not moved an inch during the pushing, but not only that, it felt like they had actually pulled back toward your opening. 

“I know.” Hershel’s voice had lost the calm and was taking on an emergent edge. “The baby is stuck.”

Panic flashed over Daryl’s face in the form of anger. “The fuck ya mean stuck?!”

Still trying to catch your breath, sweat dripping into your eyes, you thought for certain Daryl was going to jump across your leg and attack the old man. Thankfully, he remained at your side. Trembling and breath stuttering, but he wasn’t moving. 

“Shoulder dystocia. The baby is turned in such a way that the shoulders can’t fit through the pelvis. Carol, I will need your help, please.” You were already on the edge of the next contraction when Hershel nearly barked “Y/N, don’t push.”

“What the fuck’re ya doin’?” Daryl snapped, leaning over your leg to investigate. So many emotions were battling for dominance in his expression that you couldn’t even begin to imagine how he was feeling.

“Daryl, please.” You pleaded, trying your hardest not to sob. For once, you cared nothing about being self-reliant or what the group thought of you and how much you needed Daryl. As you fought through the pain and against your body’s natural insistence to push, you just cried. Daryl kept a hand below your knee, too afraid to move unless Hershel gave the okay, but he leaned as far as he could to hold you without influencing your position.

“S’okay, Sunshine. S’gonna be okay.”

“Y/N, listen to me. I can feel the shoulder.” Now, the veterinarian’s tone was just downright frightening. “Maggie and Daryl are going to pull your legs back on the next contraction. I’m going to apply some pressure above your pubic bone. It’s not going to be pleasant, but if I’m correct, the head should come and then the baby. I need you to push with all you have, do you understand?”

You pressed your cheek further into Daryl’s chest and nodded, hiccuping through ragged, exhausted breaths. When the contraction began to tear through you, Maggie and Daryl reacted immediately, pulling your legs toward your belly while you curled inward with a guttural scream. Hershel pressed into the area just above your pubic bone, the pressure only compounding the whirlwind of pain you were already caught in. And then it was over and you let the two supporters take your weight.

The van rocked again, but was ignored. Hershel looked at Carol gravely and shook his head. 

“S’that ‘bout?” Daryl hissed, trying hard for your sake not to lose his cool.

“It didn’t work.” Before Daryl could speak, the old man continued. “We’re going to try one more time. If it doesn’t work, there are a couple of other things we can try but time is of the essence. The baby isn’t getting the oxygen they need like this.”

“Whatever ya gotta do. Just take care’a both’a ‘em.” 

Hershel nodded. “Alright, same thing, Y/N. A big, big push for me.”

You shook your head, exhausted. “I can’t.” You whispered, your eyelids heavy as hope attempted to flee and you accepted that once again, the world would take from you. It would take from Daryl. “I’m so tired.” You felt movement beneath your left leg and then Daryl’s hand was grasping your chin, firm but gentle. 

“Hey. Cut that shit out.” He wasn’t angry. He was using the same tone you’d heard him use when he had told Thumper to cut you some slack. When he had started communicating with the baby. “Ya’ve gone through hell an’ back for this an’ I ain’t lettin’ ya quit at the goddamn finish line, ya hear me?”

“I’m tired, Daryl.” Your face screwed up in pain as the next contraction began to build.

“Nu uh. Ya ain’t gonna bust into my life an’ fuck up my world six ways from Sunday, make me love ya an’ this kid, an’ then just give up. S’you an’ me an’ Thumper. S’what ya said!”

You blinked at him, slowly starting to sit up.

“I’ve seen ya be a badass before, Sunshine.” Your breaths were coming faster, the contraction nearly on top of you, but you only had eyes for Daryl. “Be a fuckin’ badass now.” His hand left your face and went back to your leg, pulling it toward you at the same time Maggie moved the right one. 

You screamed so loud that you were certain the rocks and bumps of the van were due to your wails alone. Something shifted, you felt it and it hurt. You were on fire and aching at the same time. When the contraction ended, you still felt painfully stretched and bruised and uncomfortable. “Did—did it work?” You panted, grasping desperately for Daryl’s shirt.

“The head is out, the shoulders are turned. One more big push, Y/N. Just one more.”

You breathed harshly through your nose, trying to amp yourself up. Maggie and Carol were throwing encouragement your way, but you didn’t hear them. You only felt Dary’s breath against your ear, his stubbled cheek rubbing against your skin.

He whispered, only for you to hear. “I love ya.” Kissing your temple, he moved back to his spot and when you looked at him, exhausted and crying, the corner of his mouth twitched and he nodded.

You could do this.

When the next contraction ripped through you, the world went silent. It was only you and the pain, white hot and all consuming. You were indeed being torn in half but if it meant Thumper would take that first breath, would open those little eyes to see the world—fucked up or not—then you would gladly be wrenched into pieces. 

The moment the baby slipped free of you, you felt the emptiness. You still hurt, but the worst of the pain was suddenly absent. Sound and sight came back to you in an onslaught that had you sucking in a breath like your lungs had been starved. 

“Is—Hershel, the baby?” You asked, trying to move as Daryl and Maggie lowered your legs. The archer was leaning across your knee. You couldn’t even tell if he was breathing, but his eyes were wide and darting. 

“Doc—”

The ferocious first cries of the distraught newborn echoed throughout the van. Maggie had moved behind you to keep you sitting up while Daryl had staggered backward and fallen on his ass against the interior wall, eyes on the little thing that Hershel was looking over intently. Maggie reached over your shoulder and began unbuttoning your dress, whispering in your ear as she moved.

“The baby needs to nurse, bond with you on your skin and it’ll help when you have to push out the placenta, okay?” You blinked at her, concerned. “It’s okay. It’s nothing like what you just went through. One or two small pushes and it’s out.”’ You nodded robotically, watching Hershel maneuver some sort of tape around a slimy cord.

Thumper was not happy. They were probably cold and that thought made your heart ache. Your baby should never be uncomfortable. Daryl was slowly, clumsily making his way toward you, but wasn’t taking his eyes off the baby. When he was sitting beside you, Hershel finally leaned over you and placed the squirming, slippery baby on your chest.

“Congratulations. You have a daughter.”

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Insufficient Pt. 3 | Azriel/Eris x Reader

Summary: Your journey to Autumn Court doesn’t go exactly as planned, but you do pick up some entertaining company along the way, who also happens to be useful in getting you where you need to go.

Word Count: ~ 3.5k

Warnings: horse getting a bit scratched up, big scary monsters, rock juggling, allusions to abuse, platonic!lucien & reader, sassy luci, knife, blood

A/N: y’all I’m so sorry this is so late…school just started and I’ve also just started writing for cod too since I’ve been obsessing over it, so here’s some food for you guys, eat up<3

Requests are open!

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As it turned out, traveling was a lot more difficult than you had originally thought.

It wasn’t just getting on a horse and riding until night, starting a fire, and all that. Sure, you’d been around for a decent amount of time for a Fae, nothing close to centuries, but you still didn’t have much knowledge on things like that.

Most of your life had simply been with your family in the family home, spent in a warm house with plenty of food and water to spare. Not many hardships, nothing.

The first night you’d gone out had been rough.

Riding a horse for nearly six hours straight had made your thighs ache more than ever before, feeling as if someone had just beaten them with a rolling pin. Not to mention the fact that you hadn’t been able to get a decent fire going, so you’d eaten some cold dried meat in your pack, and curled up in a small den that was deserted by whatever animal had made it.

You were only on your second night when things already began going wrong. The woods were thick from where you were skirting the borders, tangy magic thick in the air from the protections most High Lords kept over their courts after Amarantha’s reign of terror. Your horse was tiring, sweat coating her mane, and your beads of sweat gathered on your forehead despite the chill of the night.

You slowly pulled the reigns back, slowing her to a stop when you got to a small clearing, before throwing a leg over and slipping off. Your knees nearly buckled when your feet hit the ground, sparks of pain flitting through them before fading slowly. The horse huffed, following as you led her by the reigns over to a little wall of stone in a mountain, a little roof provided by an overlook above. It looked relatively untouched.

Unbuckling the clasps and setting the mare free, though she never wandered far, somehow knowing better, you put the bridle down close to you.

Too tired to eat, you scooted backward, sitting slowly down as you resisted a groan with how your legs ached. Your eyelids felt heavy, and your body and movements were sluggish. Before you could even get a single coherent thought through your brain, you slipped into a deep sleep.

What must’ve been hours later, or at least felt like it, you drowsily opened your eyes when you heard the nervous nicker of your horse. Dark, splotchy figures stood nearly twenty feet away, concealed barely by trees. Maybe three of them.

They whispered and muttered quietly amongst themselves, sometimes in a language you couldn’t understand, other little English words snagging your mind. Inhuman eyes, two of them each, shifted your direction, and your eyes shut immediately.

Playing dead.

They must’ve bought it since they went back to their hushed whispers. Your mind, now fully alert and panicking, tried making sense of it. Maybe they were other travelers, like you? But outside of any court? They had looked at least 8 feet tall, thin, and cloaked in black that only served to remind you of the very male you were running from.

You heard your mare nicker again before a hoarse cry came out of it, and a scuffling sound. Your eyes opened almost involuntarily, being given a front-row view of the creatures, whatever they were, and their bony hands as they reached towards the poor animal, trying to drag it towards them as their shadowy maws opened. Whispers turned more excited.

Your body was frozen between shock and terror as you watched one of them grab the horse’s front legs, then back legs, both in different hands and begin pulling.

The horse cried out.

The hands pulled.

A disgusting ripping sound, but not from the horse.

From your dagger, embedded in one of the thing’s shadowy hands that were somehow physical, ripping the skin and flesh.

It hissed, dropping the horse, but the wound you’d made on it closed immediately as it flicked your dagger away.

You were at the horse’s side in less than a second, for some reason in a defensive position, lip curling to bare canines at the things. As you looked at the largest one dead in its cold eyes, a realization dawned on you.

Skinwalkers.

These things were skinwalkers.

It should’ve been obvious to you from the start. The dark but physical body, the dead, shining eyes, the giant frame, and clawed hands. It was then that you had another realization.

Skinwalkers didn’t eat horses. In fact, according to an old mythology book your grandmother had owned, they only ate humans. Then why-?

“A fine catch we’ve gotten ourselves..”

It said, tone between a hiss and a purr at the same time, mingling in a sound that made every cell in your body want to run and never look back. If a direct stab hadn’t done anything to kill or even harm it, then what would it take to kill one, if not the three to four that were in the group?

“Not very clever,”

One hissed in a hushed tone, and another peered down at you, dead eyes hungry.

“I told you it would work. They’re always so attached to those little animals..”

Another whispered, poking the horse, now cowering against the stone, looking for an opening to run although there was none. It pawed at the ground, stomping and huffing as if it would help.

A trap. It had been a trap, and you’d been stupid enough to fall for it. Of course.

“Get on with it, I'm starving.”

The last of the group hissed, jabbing the largest one with a pointed finger. The largest one bared its perfectly midnight black teeth and stalked closer to you. Backing up, you spotted a flash of movement to the very left, behind the group of skinwalkers.

Too fast to be a human or animal. Too slow to be another skinwalker. Which meant either it was Fae, or another creature waiting its turn to eat you, and you were praying for the former.

Between a few trees, a small face came into view, along with golden orange hair, a scarred face, a mechanical eye, and dark clothing. You tried not to stare, so the creatures wouldn’t notice him.

“It’s been too long since I’ve gotten to smell their fear, let me have a moment-“

The biggest spat, and they then began bickering in their unearthly tones, creating a temporary way of distraction. The male in the trees jerked his head towards your right, and you gave a confused face, turning to your right. All it was was a pile of big rocks. He sighed silently, mouthing something to you.

You couldn’t lip-read for the life of you.

After asking “What?” silently three times in a row, you finally understood what he was saying.

“Distract them.” He mouthed, clearly agitated as he frowned, giving you a judgmental look. Sassy for a male, this one was.

The creatures seemed quite distracted amongst themselves at the moment, but you knew once that ended, everything would be over for you. You needed a distraction, and their hushed whispers were getting less frenzied, quieter, and slower. They agreed on something.

Your mind rushed to find something, anything and thought back to the pile of rocks the male had originally jerked his chin to.

You slowly moved towards it, eventually reaching it, before the creatures came to a final consensus.

“No, no, you don’t get to escape.” One hissed through its teeth as it grabbed the back of your shirt, dragging you back in front of the largest one, but instead of slaughtering you, they were left dumbfounded when you began throwing rocks up in the air, catching them, and throwing them again.

Juggling. You were juggling the rocks.

“What is it doing?”

The smallest asked the largest in a slightly concerned whisper, or as concerned as a skinwalker could be, and the giant shadowy figure only silently watched.

“Is it diseased?”

A second asked in a hushed whisper, poking at you with a finger, only for you to yelp and hop away on one foot, unable to regain your balance while continuing to juggle the rocks, meaning you were now constantly hopping on one foot.

Juggling was a trick you’d originally learned to impress some of your younger cousins and nephews and whatnot, and mostly forgotten, but it had somehow kicked back into you at the last moment.

Eventually, though, they continued poking at you, and you dropped a rock on one’s finger, before deciding to fully commit and hurling the two remaining ones at the shadowy beasts while falling flat on your ass.

They hissed, swatting them away, but only getting halfway through the motion before a giant blaze of flame consumed them, trapping them in a burst of golden light, and then they were just…gone.

Not even a pile of ashes, no bones, no remains, nothing.

However, the male from earlier was there, walking through the now-black grass, offering you a hand while giving you an odd look. You took it, and he sighed, offering his name. It sounded mildly familiar, probably because you’d heard snippets of the bond between him and Elain before, but it was a topic most people avoided in Night Court. His hair meant he was Autumn Court, no doubt.

“Lucien.”

He said simply, and you swallowed, immediately going to your horse’s side and checking her.

“Y/N.”

You replied, hands smoothing over your horse’s coat, trying to soothe the spooked animal as it nervously nickered and scraped its hooves against the ground, bringing up dirt.

“That was certainly one way of…distracting them.”

He said in a tone that barely held back that he thought you were insane, but also mildly entertaining.

“You looked at the rocks, didn’t you?”

You said, giving him a scowl, and he paused a moment, raising a brow, before shaking his head.

“I meant for you to go pull some out to unwedge the boulder up there to flatten them.”

He said, sass evident in his dry tone. You paused, glancing up at where you’d been trapped, and sure enough, there was a giant boulder above some of the rocks you’d used to juggle. Embarrassment heated your cheeks as you swallowed, eyes shifting back to your horse.

“Oh.”

He snorted at the reply, rather undignified for a pretty boy such as himself, shaking his head, before walking over to your horse as well and assisting in checking her.

“Only a few little nicks, nothing terrible.”

He said, and you gave him a look.

“A few nicks is terrible. Imagine if you were a horse and you had a few nicks.”

You replied, scowling once again at him, getting quite protective over the horse that technically wasn’t even yours. You’d only just stolen her a few days ago.

He gave you a flat gaze, before blinking.

“I do have a few nicks.”

A few seconds passed in silence, before he pursed his lips, sighed through his nostrils, and tapped the scar on his face with one finger.

“Ohh….. That is not what I meant.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t.”

“Shut up.”

“I just saved your life and this is how you’re thanking me?”

“I’m starting to wish you hadn’t.”

An exasperated sigh from him again, as those seemed to be his favorite form of expression.

“Why are you even out here?”

“Why are you out here?”

He gave you an annoyed look, something akin to almost a pout on his lips.

“I’m an emissary. It’s my job to travel between courts.”

You raised a brow, hand running over your horse’s dark coat.

“Why by foot when you can easily winnow? Going by foot outside of the court’s boundaries at that.”

More annoyance crossed his features before his hand went to rub the bridge of his nose.

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“So are you.”

“Just answer this, where are you going?”

You took a moment of pause, trying to consider whether Lucien was a man to be trusted, looking him up and down. When he raised a brow, you considered it a sure.

“Autumn Court.”

A well-covered-up sour look crossed his face.

“Why there, of all places?”

“I have people there I want to see, and other people I don’t want seeing me. So I’m going to Autumn Court. Using this way.”

He looked at you like you were stupid. You were not stupid.

“And you’re still taking this way?”

“Yes.”

“After almost being devoured by skinwalkers?”

“Yes.”

He frowned, hand going to run through his russet locks as he looked to be thinking.

“I could take you there, I suppose. We’ll still have to travel by foot, seeing as I used all my magic saving you.”

A slightly dirty look in your direction for him having to have used all of his magic just to save your sorry ass. You only gave a little frown, and a reluctant sigh as if you’d accept the offer. And you would. It wasn’t like you had any other choice, but if he was going to be all snarky about it, you would match it.

“Guess we’ve got a new travel buddy.”

You muttered to your horse, patting it on the head.

~

Your new travel buddy was surprisingly useful, as it turns out. He’d taught you how to forage, what was poisonous and what wasn’t, and what mushrooms you could eat if cooking them well enough (you brought home deadly mushrooms 90% of the time but you looked so happy when he said “good job” that he pretended they were normal and exchanged them for edible ones when you weren’t looking).

You were not meant for hunting, your arm was too unsteady to hold a bow well, fingers kept slipping off the string, the arrow wouldn’t stay straight…it was a mess. Your knife usage wasn’t much better, but you at least got one rabbit over nearly four days.

He hadn’t shared much with you other than his name, but you’d gathered that he was a Vanserra, Emissary for Night Court, and he was always talking about some band of friends named Vassa and Jurian. When you asked, he wouldn’t elaborate. Something about a Band of Outcasts.

He helped make the fire with his magic, and passed out at night, going into a deep sleep to recover what he’d spent of his energy that day, leaving you with the first watch.

Not many incidents occurred after the skinwalker one, but more than once you’d heard twigs snapping when they shouldn’t be, or bushes and leaves rustling. That was usually when you started adding more logs and thatch to the fire, and the noises quickly stopped after that.

You shared the food and drink with him, and he gratefully took it, most of the time both of you eating and discussing childhood meals you’d had to pass the time.

“My mother used to make the spiciest chili I’ve ever had, I couldn’t get it down without crying.”

“Seriously? Isn’t she like, a High Lady, though?”

“She might be a High Lady, but she’s a mean cook, and has a concerning tolerance for spice.”

“Damn. My grandparents make dishes all the time. Potato or tomato soups…lots of soups, but sometimes they’ll make this delicious curry, too.”

“Is the potato soup not bland?”

“No, they like…sauté onions and add salts and peppers, all that. It’s delicious.”

“Maybe I’ll get potato soup someday, just to try it.”

You had given a crooked grin at that, one he couldn’t help but smile at. You reminded him a lot of his younger brothers when they’d still been mere teenagers, except you were older, but still seemingly just as carefree and young at heart.

Your horse was carefree as well, mainly in the manner she didn’t care about anything you told her to do.

“Just lift your foot, it’s not that hard.”

You seethed, trying to pull her hoof up to pick whatever dirt and rocks had gotten into it out, so she didn’t get any sort of infection or injuries from it. However, she huffed and refused to do so much as to bend her knees. Stubborn thing.

Lucien strolled over, dropping a pile of gathered wood before observing the scene before him. He took the sharpened stick you were trying to use as a hoof-pick right out of your hands, and with the most feline ease you'd ever seen before, easily got the mare to lift her hoof, and he cleaned it out.

You stared, blinking, internally furious. He smirked lazily as he glanced over at you. The horse huffed again, this time more relaxed, and he looked a bit more curious then.

“What’s her name?”

Your mind blanked on that, you standing there silently like an idiot, before replying.

“I never really named her, considering I’m immortal and she’s going to die someday. Thought it would be better not to get attached.”

A lie. Not a full lie, but you’d really just forgotten to name her, and accidentally gotten attached along the way. Lucien raised a brow.

“You seemed awful attached when you attacked an eight-foot-tall-“

“Hush.”

He rolled his eyes, but obeyed, moving on to another hoof to clean.

“You should name her. Might make her listen to you better?”

He suggested, and you sighed.

“I don’t even know what to name her. I’m not great with naming things. One of the many reasons I’m never having kids.”

His lips twitched into a small smile at that, but quickly faded into a more thoughtful, deep expression, as if thinking hard about something.

A silence passed over you both as he worked, and you idly watched, toying with your hair, not sure and also not very willing to do anything else. He eventually spoke up when he finished cleaning out her hooves, looking the horse over. Her little nicks had been patched up by you and him days ago.

“Jesmind.”

“What?”

“Name her Jesmind.”

“Okay…any particular reason why?”

He shook his head at that, as if not going to talk about it any further.

“She just…reminds me of someone, is all.”

You raised a brow but didn’t push. Not when he went to go walk out into the woods, and you walked over to your dark mare, brushing your hand over her muzzle and looking into her defiant eyes.

“Jesmind, huh?”

You mused, testing how the name sounded on your tongue.

“Blink twice if you think it should be your name.”

The horse just watched, blinking once slowly, and when you made a flicking motion with your fingers, it blinked again, looking annoyed.

“Yeah, it’s perfect. Confirmed by the horse herself.”

You said, grinning to nobody in particular as you began walking away, trying to find Lucien, only to almost fall face first off of a cliff edge. One hand grabbed the back of the jacket you were now wearing, pulling you back up.

“We’re here.”

He spoke grimly. This place, Autumn Court, didn’t hold fond memories for him. You could tell. And from what you’d seen and heard of his family and court…you wouldn’t be surprised if they’d done awful things to him. There was a reason he’d run from here so many years ago, after all.

“How am I going to get down there?”

You asked, looking down the large cliff. It was too steep for Jesmind to go down, even trying to go on the sides of it wouldn’t work.

“I’ll winnow you both,”

He said all too casually. You blinked slowly, turning to him.

“I thought you couldn’t winnow, that you needed to regenerate your magic.”

He gave you an amused smile.

“I had more than enough magic to winnow you and your mare the first time we met.”

Your fury slowly began to rise as you gaped at this male in front of you.

“Then why-“

“I was bored, and you seemed like entertaining company.”

Before you could even muster a reply, he gave you a pat on the back, walking back to camp and returning with your horse in one hand and your things in another. He handed you your bag, which you slung around your shoulder, and you took the reigns of Jesmind.

“Will I see you again?”

You asked, and he gave a lazy, but genuine smile this time.

“I’ll never stop annoying you, don’t worry.”

You huffed a bit of laughter.

“That’s a relief.”

His hand went to your shoulder again, and the tangy iron scent of magic hit you once again like it had in the very beginning days of the journey.

“A word of warning,”

He then said, voice now serious.

“Stay out of trouble, and stay away from my brothers. The High Fae of Autumn are not people you want to get caught up with.”

You gave a nod, and in a flash of golden light and fire like a rising sun, you were then in the bustling streets of a city, no Lucien in sight, looking more than a little ghetto.

A horse in one hand, bag hanging from the other, wearing clothes that were best described as hunting clothes rather than the proper clothing most wore, you began walking, the sun so bright and heavy that you could barely see.

Jesmind nickered, pulling to the side of the street.

Just quick enough for you to walk straight into the chest of none other than Eris Vanserra.

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[toruro]

idk if u accept asks like this but what do u think would be svt thoughts/reactions to u scratching up their back during sex???

just a random random thought LOL (thank u sm!! please feel free ignoring this if its not vibing)

svt + scratches on their back

tags: smut ..,, sort of (18+),

a/n: ngl i miss doing ot13 reactions to stuff like this so!! so glad that u requested :3

seungcheol: not a surprise but seungcheol absolutely loves it. he's obsessed with it, even. like takes pictures of it in the mirror after you fuck when the marks are still raw and red and fresh. it's part of the reason why missionary is probably his favorite position ... and i feel like cheol would shower you with money just so you can get your nails done perfectly sharp enough to rake into his back every time you guys fuck.

jeonghan: the only who i think is truly indifferent. it doesn’t bother him nor does he feel like it adds anything but he figures if you like it he’ll let you do as you please

joshua: i feel like he's also indifferent, but sometimes he'll use it as an excuse to be a little mean ... "aw baby can't keep her hands to herself ..,, might have to tie you up"

jun: loves it because of the pain. hear me out but he thinks your nails digging into his back adds onto his own pleasure from the sensation alone, but he's also a little shy about that fact and so just makes it a point to fuck you as hard as he can so you scratch his back involuntarily.

soonyoung: a mix of jun and joshua. he doesn't care too much for it, but occasionally the sting is pretty pleasurable ...,, other times he might use it as an excuse to pin your hands above your head

wonwoo: i actually think he's one of the few members who does not like getting scratches on his back because when he is being dominant, he likes have full control !! and that includes dictating where your hands get to be and what they get to do. although, wonwoo thinks it's cute when you get so lost in pleasure that you forget about his rules and can't help but scratch his back ...,, makes it a point to punish u for that and he always enjoys that

jihoon: secretly judges his self reflection of well he fucked you based on how messed up his back is after every round. loves every single mark.

seokmin: isn't a huge fan of the feeling while getting them—the sting kinda hurts, however he loves how scratches look afterwards ...,, admires himself in the mirror a lot when you leave loads of marks

mingyu: likes them a decent amount. he no strong opinions on it, if you like it, then he likes it. sometimes the feeling of you giving them eggs him in a bit more and boosts his ego

minghao: i feel like he doesn't really care about the pain while it's happening, and might even like that you get so lost in pleasure that you end up digging your nails into his back, but he doesn't like how the scratches sting afterwards so he probably asks you to hold off on the claws when you fuck

seungkwan: enjoys it occasionally, but other times he might straight up ask you to stop and oil / massage his back afterwards, and help him treat the marks with ointment

vernon: he wasn't the biggest fan at first but he didn't tell you to stop because it seemed like you liked it ..,, it eventually grew on him and he would never admit it to anyone but he really started to enjoy the sting while fucking, along with the view of his back all red and raw with scratches afterwards

chan: likes showing it off more than the actual process of getting the scratches to be honest. i have this feeling that the first time you scratched his back while fucking, chan was kinda surprised and, leaning into his more dominant side, wanted to make sure you didn't do that again ..,, but soon he grew to appreciate how the scratches were a sign of how good he's fucking you .,,

[slytherinshua]

OKAY HEAR ME OUT ITS SO SO BASIC but i crave soul fluff :( imagine playing minecraft with him and i honestly feel like it could go two ways: either extremely cute n cozy OR chaos. mans destroying all of ur stuff.

BUT ALSO IM THINKING imagine just matching his vibe so well and speaking his silly alien language, not really caring about weird looks from others … n he’s just so :( i love him btw

actually yk how soul always makes those minecraft villager noises?? MY BROTHER DID THAT TOO WHEN HE WAS YOUNGER :( so actually this is kinda nostalgic... also i forget if my brothers ever did this to me when we were playing minecraft but i always played on creative anyway cause.... i hated dying 👹 warnings: soul explodes ur house ^_^ a lil cursing. wc: ~600.

“Once we get that flint and steel, we can finally go to the nether!” You said excitedly, making your way back to your house in the Minecraft world you had with your boyfriend, Soul. He loved to play in his free time, and luckily for him, you also enjoyed the game. It was a no-brainer that you two would play together. 

You had gotten decently far in your world. You had built a cute little house, with two cats: Kamden and Mackiah. Definitely not named after your boyfriend’s junior group members (yes, yes they were). 

You had just finished a very successful mining trip, which was the last thing you needed before you could finally reach the nether. You weren’t sure what your boyfriend was doing in the world; your best guess was either exploring a desert temple or an abandoned shipwreck. He always liked going on dangerous missions. 

There was nothing that could ruin your mood, though; everything was going exactly how you wanted.

Until you reached the door of your little house. And immediately you heard a soft little click, and then ensuing explosions.

Oh, you were so going to kill your boyfriend.

“What the fuck did you just do, Haku Shota?” You asked, your eye twitching at the ‘You Died!’ screen on your computer, the score displaying only a couple hundred digits. Your mind thought over what you had in your inventory; 3 diamonds from your mining trip, along with valuable loot from skeletons and zombies you had killed along the way. A nice supply of arrows and an extra bow, your iron tools all needing to be replaced after this.

But what pissed you off the most is your cats. How could he have killed Kamden and Mackiah just like that? Did your boyfriend have no heart? 

Soul knew he was partially fucked. It had been Theo’s stupid idea to pull a prank in your minecraft world, anyway. Maybe he could avoid the blame? Then again, he was the one who executed it. Using the skills that he had honed for hours playing the game, making an elaborate explosion completely hidden in your house with ease… just waiting for you to step on the pressure plate. 

And while your immediate reaction did make a satisfied and mischievous smile grow on your boyfriend’s face, it soon dropped. You never used his full name. Ever. Not even once. Suddenly Soul was a bit scared. You were going to extract revenge, no doubt. For the diamonds, and the loot, but mostly for the cats.

You put your laptop down, turning towards your boyfriend, staring incredulously at his blank expression. What was going through his little brain behind those thoughtless eyes? Was he enjoying your pain and agony, or was he regretting his actions?

“Theo.” He said suddenly, avoiding eye contact with you.

“Oh hell no. You are not gonna blame Theo for this, baby.” You were back to calling him baby— that was a positive sign. You grabbed his wrist, forcing him to face you as you cupped his cheeks.

“You’re going to rebuild my house, right? And get my cats back. And the diamonds. I want double the original amount. Double the size of the house, 4 cats, 6 diamonds. Got it?” You were determined, but Soul could still tell that you weren’t that upset with him. It barely took more than 5 seconds for you to calm down, especially when it was a harmless prank.

He made a slightly reluctant villager noise in response, agreeing to your terms. You grinned and pecked his lips before giving him one last warning.

“If I don’t get 4 cats then I’m quitting the world.” 

↳ p1harmony taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @kangtaehyunzzz,, @amara-mars,, @nyukyusnz,,

@blossominghunnie,, @wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @heavenfilm,, @sobun1est,,

@bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

The apparition

a/n only fitting for to me come back with an angst after a month of disappearing. Do I think that this should have never seen the light of day? Yes. But oh well… Sleep token made me do it. Also, this a one shot. Won’t be writing a part two to this. Pain is pain for a reason. 🥹

warning: forbidden love, addiction, toxic love?, past trauma, brief mentions of sexual intimacy.

The part in italics is the glimpse of the past.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

He felt like a kid. Pushed aside once again. A rock. Kicked carelessly by the side of the road. Mindlessly misplaced. Carelessly ignored. Azriel knew his tendencies. That desire to be loved. To be wanted. To be longed for. That same feeling had him crawling after females who never reciprocated his affection. Yet he crawled back. No matter the amount of stabs his heart took. He always found himself reaching.

Was this something his brothers had warned him about? Yes. Cassian repeatedly sat him down like a youngling, pointing out the damage he was creating. The wounds Azriel was tearing open. The self-inflicted pain he was causing himself. Yes, yes, and triple fucking yes. But it was like a drug, and he was an addict. Addict that was so far down the line that the withdrawal was scarier than knowing that every morning his bed was cold, his arms were empty, and his heart had been bled dry. 

The corner street door creaked open. Alerting the lost spymaster. His senses perked up. Azriel doubted that it was true, but even now, even without catching a glimpse of you, he was convinced that he sensed you. But nothing compared to that wave of familiarity that crashed into him when your frame came into view. Chasing the last bits of air out of his lungs. His hands reached out in a frenzy of muscle memory.

“Azriel?”, and it’s the surprise—the hints of horror, almost pain—that sounded in the way you said his name. But his mind was too far gone to register that. So much of an always-alert spymaster. “Oh, no, no," you dragged your hand out of his grip, “You shouldn’t be here”, you shook your head, putting distance between you two. "Please," and here goes that plea. The desperation. “No, Azriel, we had a deal, remember? Last week was the last time," you hissed at him, turning to look over your shoulder. 

“This will be the last time," Azriel muttered. A lie. He knew that. But maybe you didn’t. Maybe he could lie to himself to the point where even the ones around him believed him. “Oh, no, I know how this goes." You shook your head repeatedly, “I warned you, you stupid fool." He could feel the frustration flowing through you. The panic. “You promised me you were decent. That you had a hold of your mental shields." There was nothing sweet in your tone as you hissed out, reaching to open the door leading to your shop.

“They were. They are," Azriel muttered, stepping after you. “Don’t lie to me. You can’t fool me”, you huffed, looking through the drawer, cursing as loose pieces of paper swayed, falling to the floor. And Azriel just stood there, watching. Drinking in every single movement. “When?”, you asked, wild eyes looking up at Azriel. And he knew exactly what you wanted to know too. Should he lie? Alter the date? Hide a symptom or two. “Last month," his mouth betrayed him, however, and he had a first-seat ticket to watching your face fall. “But it’s not bad; I have it under control," Azriel quickly jumped in, hoping to defuse the situation, “It just flared up tonight, I promise." Another lie. But if he wanted to get what he was looking for, he had to push this narrative in a convincing enough manner.

“I’m telling Rhys," you muttered. "No,"  Azriel cut in so quickly that it made you jolt. “No need, plus he is aware that I am seeing you," he added in a much calmer tone. “Seeing me or seeing me now?”, you pushed. It was the mess with Elain that had made him crumple. Had taken him out for months before he found his footing once again. Even if he knew that the relationship had an expiration date, the mating bond always won. No matter the stories others showed down one’s throat about the chance of rejecting it.

“All of it. Knows all of it”, Azriel nodded. Just one more, he thought, just for tonight. “I’m saying this as a friend. You can’t keep coming back," you whispered, “This needs to stop." It was Rhys who had found you. An illusionist manipulating people’s emotions, threading together images that felt real to the depths of one’s bones. An alter of wished they called you. People and even high-fea prayed at your altars for Mother's sake. You were something some feared and others were ready to sacrifice themselves for.

“What illusions do you obtain from?" It was your fifth meeting, and Azriel, much to your dismay, had pushed the idea of getting to know each other. After all, he would have to let you into the depths of his soul. So that had been his one rule—befriend me first. You had stayed silent for a long time. Twirling the red wine in your glass. “Of love," you muttered, and Azriel could have never imagined that those two words would alert all of his life. “Why?”, was a question brought up by pure curiosity back then, with no implied intentions. “It gets messy, and the falsification of love feels wrong. Such feelings shouldn’t be tainted by magic," you said, pushing your hair over your shoulder. You glowed even in the dim light. The curves of your body were breathtaking as you lounged in the day bed on the balcony of Azriel’s apartment. It was a lethal kind of beauty, and with a handful of heartbeats, he knew that he was already slipping. 

“I saw Elain today; she... we spoke, and I just..." It was a hell of a lie he was choosing, but the need won out in his logical sense. “Mend it for me; I can’t keep feeling as if I have nothing," he breathed out. His eyes filling up with tears. “Just this one time," Azriel said, sinking to his knees. He saw your walls cracking slowly as you rounded the table. Fingers reaching out to cup his face. His hands reach to hold onto your hips. Pleading eyes burning into you. “I should have never said yes, and I hope you know how much I regret this," you muttered, clawing at his heart. 

“Admit it, I’m a fun company." Azriel leaned closer, making sure you could hear him through the music. You had no clue how he managed to drag you to Rita’s of all places, but here you were. One of the finest silks on your skin. A private booth. The lights. The drumming of the crowd. You shook your head, suppressing a smile. “You’ve gotten cocky," you observed, “Who knew you had that in you." Azriel leaned back, undoing the first button of his black shirt. "Oh, there’s so much more you don’t know about me, baby," he said, speaking into thin air. Knowing that you could hear him. He had leaned in only to feel you closer to him. Smirking as he lifted his glass. 

His hands reached out, taking hold of your legs as he pulled them up, draping them over his lap. Caught by the sudden movement, you were forced to reach out. Hand on his shoulder as you steadied yourself. That’s when he caught that unrehearsed glimpse of need in your eyes, but it was quickly pushed back. “Now this is crossing the line," you huffed. But before you had a chance to move, Azriel clasped his hand on your thigh. “What are you afraid of?” He threw that question absentmindedly, not realizing how deep that root of pain was. “Wasn’t that what you asked me the first day we met?” Azriel smirked before averting his attention back to the crowd. Leaving you slowly breaking down beneath the feeling of him. Beneath the fear of yourself.

“I should have never given in," you said, lifting his chin, and he obliged without a fuss. “You liked this too. Admit it," Azriel bit back, his hold on you tightening. He would fight hell in hopes of being able to keep his hands on you. In hopes of keeping you. “We had a deal. No falling for one another," you hissed, nails digging into the sides of his face. “I warned you that my kind doesn’t do happy endings and picket fences, Azriel," you huffed. “I don’t need that from you," he argued, “I just need you to chase Elain away. That hasn’t changed. I still love her, not you." Another lie for the night. A bitter chuckle slipped through your lips, “You’re one shit of a liar, dear spymaster of the night court.”. 

You were to blame for this just as much. You should have stood your ground. Should have never been entertained by that wimp. Because Rhys had warned you. Told you about Azriel's tendencies. So the fact that he had asked for a night that would make him feel loved should have been a red flag. But it was the empath in you that buckled at the feeling of his sadness. The loneliness that could drown out the whole army. The crippling emptiness. The way he broke down crying as he held onto you.

But all that could have been forgiven. Could have been managed. But it was yourself that you threaded into that glimpse of hope for him. Something you had never done before. It was always a made-up face you used while creating an illusion. It was the safest way. But you had been just as selfish. Nights spent getting to know each other left you wondering what it would feel like to know the touch of a man who wanted you. Who craved you. Who chose you even though loving you was a forbidden act of insanity.

And then it felt as if sending a ship you knew was destined to sink set sail. The next time Azriel stopped by, he was barely through the door as his hand grabbed the back of your head, pulling you closer to him. It felt so raw. So powerful. Whatever was happening in that small corner shop was way too big for it. Too big for Velaris. The whole world. As his hands danced over your body. Unraveling parts of you no one had seen before. Laying you bone bare beneath him. “Make me feel," he had whispered over and over. That sad lost man, making you break your own rules as you wrapped him in the sense of eternal peace as he made love to you over and over again. Digging a grave for each of you.

“If loving that silly girl with flowers in her hair had an explanation date, this has the date of your death engraved on your gravestone," you whimpered, your eyes burning as you held back tears. You warned him. Kept on warning him. In hopes of being able to wash your hands clean afterward. Because he knew the consequences. Loving you wasn’t something that could ever happen. But it only dragged you deeper. “I know. I  remember everything," Azriel muttered, pressing ghost-like kisses over your stomach. His hands already slipping past the hem of your dress. Fingers skimming over your legs. You pressed your own hands over his, “Just an illusion this time, nothing more." You reached to pull back from his touch, but his grip on your thighs only tightened. “Let me make love to you," Azriel pleaded, and if you could justify the opium your magic gave him before, it was oozing out in ugly sores now. You had doomed him. Pained tears fell down your cheeks as you kneeled in front of him. Cupping his face with both hands. You let yourself take in the sight of him. Both because you knew that you would never meet another man like him and so you could torment yourself with guilt for fracturing him for the rest of your existence. 

“You’re all better now," you muttered, smiling up at him. Azriel’s eyes grew hazy. “Do you remember the night we danced in your apartment after way too much wine?” You pushed the damp curl from his forehead, biting the inside of your cheek so you wouldn’t break down alongside him. He nodded eagerly. “You’re there, my love, in that moment," you said, taking a steady breath. Savoring the warmth of him. The feeling of him being close. “But you’re not there with me. Because I’m not real, Azriel," his shoulders sagged at your words. You could feel him trying to pull back, but you kept your hand on his neck. “I was never here. Never with you. You dreamed me up, baby," you said, pressing your lips to his forehead. You closed your eyes, feeling your own heart shatter, “But it was a nice dream, Az, and you will wake up way lighter tomorrow.”

Those same words were like a broken record as Azriel jumped up. Body aching and drenched in sweat. He turned aimlessly, as if in hopes of seeing you there. But he was in his room. The black sheets covered his body. "No," he grunts, yanking the black silk off him. Without a second thought, he winnowed. To one place that had been calling for him all of these weeks. And he’s nearly falling to his knees as the side of the wall comes into view. No windows. No sign. A solid concrete wall. “I know it’s your doing," he screams angrily into the depths of night. Hands pushing against the solid foundations. But there’s nothing. Not even a breath of you. As if it were never there. As if for the entire time it was just the corner of the street.

“You can’t push me away," he roared, beating his fist till the skin of his knuckles cracked, “You’re a fucking coward; that’s what you are." There was no way he had dreamed it. That you were a fleeting image of the night. Drafted by his brain. “You promised...", Azriel sank to his knees. His hands still pressed against the wall as he leaned against it. “I know it was real; you can’t make me believe otherwise," he crocked out, angry tears rolling down his cheeks. Falling to the ground, he pressed his back against where the door of your shop used to be. His wings sagged on either side of him. And he just sat there. The stars up above keep him company throughout the rest of the night. He wasn’t gonna move. He won’t go. He wouldn’t go. The wind kissed his damp cheeks but he was numb to it. You watched him from the other side of the alley. Hand on your mouth as you drowned the shattering waves of pain within. You watched until the night took you away forever.

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Hi there,

Saw your post about Cajun/cowboy Alastor and OMG! I don’t have many ideas other then maybe he plays poker for souls or something like that and maybe a reader comes into town and is just as good at poker as he is. And he cannot seem to win, leading him to become mildly obsessed over winning their soul.

Thats all I have as I don’t know much about cajun/cowboy stuff.

I’ll let you know if I have any other ideas!

Thank you!

Alastor - [ ACE OF HEARTS ]

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A/N: Omg, I love your take on cowboy Al! It got me thinking about it for days. I have never played poker, so I had to watch multiple YouTube videos to understand the game while writing this. Hopefully, it came out accurate enough! Also, this is a very, VERY traumatic/smut-heavy fic I'm working on, so please be aware and know I don't endorse anything I write.

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ MATURE THEMES ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ GUN PLAY… ] + [ SLIGHT DUB CON….eventually.] + [ SLIGHT/IMPLIED AGE GAP ] + [ MENTIONS OF GORE/BLOOD/CANNABILISM ] + [ KIDNAPPING…sort of?.. ] + [ PARENTAL PHYSICAL AB*SE…eventually..] + [ ANGST/TRUAMA…]

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**Cowboy Alastor** is known for his record of killing, is a skilled bounty hunter, and is far from a decently moral one. Everyone assumes his motives, guessing who his next target is and if he’ll ever feel guilt for what he does to them.

He doesn't.

What kind of demon would he be if he did…

Besides, the people he kills owe him in one way or another, all in debt to the red demon by their stupidity and lust for life, so he feels nothing for them when the time comes for the price of their deals to be paid.

Alastor arrives for them in the dead of dry nights, taking their last breath with a single bullet to the head or a clean cut across the throat. Their pleas do little to affect his decision.

“A deal is a deal…”

He reminds them that escaping a bloody end is impossible, already solidified by their selfish desires, and no amount of begging will change his mind. They curse his name, glaring at the grin on his face as he draws nearer with deathly intent in his eyes, and it only grows as he derives pleasure from their refusal to cooperate.

The riches, the riding, and the roughness he endures daily are nothing compared to the satisfaction he gets from killing. Others may deal in chasing oil, farming land, and cattle, but he stakes his fulfillment in the business of blood.

**Cowboy Alastor** dabbles in gambling when he's not off-striking deals with lowly souls or wreaking havoc on those he deems deserving.

Every city south of New Orleans with a bar or saloon welcomes his visits and not by choice.

Those who don't meet his standards or demands of hospitality drop from the face of the earth at his will, burning to a crisp full of the dead occupants who so lightly offended him, and never to be rebuilt out of fear he'd return to demolish it again.

He surely would, but no one has yet to test the theory in fear of a painful death by his hands.

Alastor leisurely travels the expanse of Louisiana's countryside, partial to riding wherever the wind blows, but he’ll always return to the rumbling city of New Orleans.

Whether for personal reasons or because his beloved mother wished to see him, it becomes second nature for the deer demon to reside there randomly. It was his hometown, after all, and he preferred the taste of whiskey from a familiar place over foreign alcohol in far-off dusty taverns he'd never visit again.

The saloon he fancies sits opposite the central townhouse, a tall building at the end of a main street that never seemed to rest.

Lafitte’s Blacksmith Bar

Summer nights brought out and drew in more people, filling the bar with patrons who knew of his deeds and those who’d only heard scarring stories about him through the ladder. The knowledge of a red reaper roaming the towns of Louisiana varied, but their fearful respect of him was abundant the moment Alastor stepped foot into the bustling bar.

He was there, in good spirits for the most part, but still an impossible threat they couldn't brush off.

**Cowboy Alastor** greets the silent patrons with a sly grin, tipping his hat to the fear-stricken owner who eyed him from behind the packed bar.

“Don't let me interrupt the fun, Cher. I'm not here to cause you trouble… that's if you're kind enough to indulge me.”Alastor chuckles, not waiting for a proper response from anyone as he stalks over to his usual spot in the smokey parlor.

A group of cattlemen stiffen in their seats as he walks by, all grabbing their drinks as swiftly as possible before leaping up from their table to avoid him, and their skittish actions cause Alastor to laugh as he settles into a particular backroom booth.

It was customary for people to keep their distance from him, some deterred by his striking appearance while others simply didn't want to risk involvement with a known killer. He saw nothing wrong with their aversion, glad that his reputation proceeded him, but there were those single few who saw him as a challenge rather than a threat.

Poor fools…

Mortal or not, he ran into them regularly, welcoming their duels like a bored child getting a new toy to destroy, and though he knew they'd fail to win against him, he'd never turn down a good game.

Ever…

**Cowboy Alastor** lets the saloon wind into chaos again, humming along to the melody of music and rowdy singing while getting comfortable in his secluded spot.

His hat rests low on his head, shielding most of his red gaze from those who look his way, only leaving the view of his Cheshire smile and effectively signaling his oddly calm demeanor. Alastor slipped his riding jacket off, tossing the tailored burgundy clothing across the back of the booth, his leather and suede black gloves following suit.

“What a day it's been…” he mumbled while flexing his long fingers, relaxing his posture while leaning back and rolling his neck until a soft ‘pop’ was heard.

Consequently, the tension tangled in his limber body from riding all day unraveled. Alastor sucked his teeth at the feeling, licking his lips as a satisfied groan left them, and just as he sat forward again, the owner hurried to his table with a bottle of alcohol and a tray of cigars.

“Your usual, Al,” he split out, setting the items in front of him with shakey hands, and Alastor clicks his tongue at the nervous tick. He'd come to this bar for years, and the old man still trembled in his boots around him. The poor fool wouldn't dare admit his fear either, rushing off as soon as he reached for the bottle, and though some might consider his retreat rude, Alastor found it amusing.

Flattering, even.

**Cowboy Alastor** drinks slowly, letting the whiskey burn his tongue and drowning the malt taste with languid drags from a cigar.

Eyes scan over him, women whisper about him lustfully under the rowdy music, and the men keep their senses about them with happy trigger fingers.

Because as they say: “Red Reaper, Red Reaper. The devil's solemn deal keeper. Beware him & the hell he seeks…”

Alastor imposes his intensity, grinning at those who stare too long, watching the women who drink him in with an equally sultry stare, and daring the men to throw a bullet his way with a knowing smirk. He invites trouble, waiting for it like a preying snake in tall, dry grass, but after some time, he assumes no one in the saloon will accept his invitation.

That is until you step in, looking lost among the worldly thrills of a bar but unafraid to venture further into it with an air of certainty surrounding you.

**Cowboy Alastor** makes no move to approach you, laid back as ever, as he observes the gentle way you speak to men who drunkenly approach you. They make offers to dance, almost crowding your more diminutive form as you trail to the bar.

“Sorry, boys, but I'm here on business, not pleasure. Now, run along..” you wave them away playfully, purposely flirtatious but avidly stern.

He expects them to continue bugging you; you're a doll, after all, prettier than most women he's seen. However, the men retreat politely, leaving you be as the owner approaches your side, and you immediately turn to hug him despite his apparent concerned expression.

Alastor observes the exchange closely, reading your lips perfectly while sipping at his drink, and it's all too easy for him to assess the situation.

The daughter of a businessman returns home after finishing school in the north, wanting to visit him at work as a pleasant surprise, but he's far from happy about a young lady like yourself being out late at night in a place like this.

You're too mannered to be seen around the patrons, it's dangerous for you to ride alone in the evening, and your father isn't pleased you intend to stay out to celebrate your school completion.

He tells you it's best to go home, that he'll come with you, but you insist on staying and remind him, “I'm not your little girl anymore, Daddy!..” The older man can't seem to rein you in, having to drop the lecture as a small brawl breaks out in the corner of the saloon, which draws his attention immediately, and this leaves you to wander the scene freely.

A perfect time for Alastor to reel you in close and personal…

**Cowboy Alastor** whistles when you walk past his area, catching your attention with a short, soulful melody, and you quickly notice him in the dim back room.

“Hi there, lil’ lady. Searchin' for somethin'?” He inquires playfully, tone bordering sensual, and his grin slipping into a closed smile as your gaze settles on him.

You’re curious, not scared of him like most are, and the moment he speaks to you, questions race through your head.

Who is he?

How have you never seen him here before?

Why, in God's name, is he sitting away from the masses?

Is he a rider, a hunter, or maybe a convict?

It was hard to tell from a distance, so without a second thought, you flashed him a gentle smile, gradually approaching where he sat, “Hello, and who might you be, sir?” You chirp a greeting, resisting the urge to bite your lip as he stares into your wandering gaze.

Alastor assumed you’d been away from the South too long to realize who he was, that your father's earlier warning didn’t sprout from overprotectiveness but rather fear of his presence.

You didn’t see him as a threat, nor a danger, but a new face in an old town.

He chuckles, putting out his cigar after taking a particularly long drag from it, blowing smoke past his lips with a coy hum. You blink as the convoluted air fans your face, unbothered by it and itching for a taste of tobacco yourself. It’d been a few years since you’d let loose, not allowed to frequent bars or act unladylike in the limelight of northern modesty.

“A loyal patron, but it’s been some time since I’ve paid this place a visit.” He answers you politely, an odd trait that most men only reserved for themselves but refreshing to experience.

“Oh, well, that’s nice to hear, but your name is what I would like to know.”

A tender smirk stretches your lips, a red hue dusting your cheeks as he tips his hate apologetically before uttering a response, “Alastor Hartifelt. A pleasure to meet you, Miss…” he pauses, quirking a brow at you expectantly, and you take a moment to analyze him further.

You've heard your father utter his name many times before your departure to the north. He'd described him brutally, having less than pleasant things to say about bounty hunters in general but especially about the man in front of you now. You'd heard people talk of his deeds, deals, and evil.

He was dubbed the ‘Red Reaper’ for a good reason, lurking around in the bitter nights and drawing blood from one poor soul or another in his travels.

Supposedly, he was a terrifying monster, but you'd always found beauty in the demented. It was one of the reasons your father had sent you away, but fortunately, the influence of the posh upper class did nothing to change your consciousness.

Besides, the rumors had failed to mention how attractive the red reaper was, let alone dashing. He seemed nice enough hadn't flashed his weapon, threatened, or catcalled you disrespectfully.

So, you found no harm in telling him your name, “Y/n L/n. It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Hartifelt.” You blink slowly, drowning in his red eyes, unconsciously swaying where you stood, back to a wall that hid your presence near him from your father's eyes and the curious stares of others.

Alastor glanced at the space beside him, silently asking that you join him, but unlike most women, he rarely took an interest in, you didn't move until he asked you outright.

“Would you care to join me for a drink, Miss L/n? I'd like to have your company for a while..”

He doesn't speak any louder than needed, using every bit of charm he has to lure you in, and you let him believe he's succeeded with a sensual laugh and purring laugh.

“Why, I thought you'd never ask..”

**Cowboy Alastor** asks a lot of questions. Subtly gathering information about you that he has no use for.

You give him answers; some are lies, others are indiscriminate truths, but you can't bring yourself to be completely honest with a stranger known for his cunning. He keeps your glass full, pacing the liquor with you, reveling in your gentle laughter after every sip, and softening faster and faster the longer you conversed.

You kept your wits about you as best as possible, inviting his fleeting touches but never going further than whispering in his ear or tapping a finger under his sharp chin when he'd stare too long.

Alastor didn't mind your soft hands on him, nor your lingering gaze and confident provocations. He absentmindedly returned the gestures just as boldly.

Your fifth glass of whiskey was running low, and without a hint of hesitation, he refilled it alongside his own. You watched as the amber liquid filled each glass, utterly relaxed as he spoke to you tenderly, “You say your father sent you far up north. May I ask why?…”

He peers at you, sliding the transparent glass into your waiting hand, and you chuckle wryly while taking a sip. “Daddy says it was for my good. You see, my mother is a stickler about manners, and I didn't have much of any growing up. Ironic, seeing as I was raised well enough.” you paused, frowning at the memory of your strict but loving mother.

She was lovely to look at and kind most of the time, but her ambitions for you outweighed her patience. Alastor noted the haunting sadness in your eyes but said nothing as you continued, looking out into the crowd of patrons fussing about as you did.

“My mother died a few years back, leaving daddy to handle me, and when he realized he couldn't manage the business and a daughter, he sent me away. Couldn't blame him either; I was getting into trouble left and right and had some bad habits on the rise, too.”

His ears perked at the words ‘bad habits’ leaving your lips, naturally drawn to knowing a mortal's darkest secrets, so he pressed for clarification.

“Bad habits, you say? I couldn't imagine a sweet thing like you havin’ such things.”

You scoffed, glad your cheeks were flushed from the alcohol buzz to mask the blush his comment invoked, “Well…I did. Still do if I'm honest.” you admit in a hushed tone, knocking back the last of your drink before glancing his way.

“It's hard to resist doing things you're good at.”

Alastor leaned back into the seat, drink in one hand, the other fixing his hat so it sat back on his head. The adjustment gave you a peek at his fluffy red hair and the distinctive blood-marked x on his forehead. You thought to ask what the mark meant but saved the question for later, as he agreed with your statement.

“Very true, ma chere. Although I'm one for killin’, your passion may not be so grizzly and easier to alleviate.”

“My father thinks gambling is just as bad as killing. It doesn't matter if he's addicted to it himself or not. If I do it…I'm the devil's daughter in his eyes..” You roll your eyes, an action that jolts a nerve Alastor hasn't felt in years and subconsciously doesn't ignore.

“Gambling? That's your unproper poison?” he narrows his gaze as you nod lazily, a few ringlets of your hair falling from its pinned-up style as you do, resting on the skin of your shoulders and neck.

Soft.

Your locks look soft and silky to the touch, tempting him to run his fingers through it, across your skin, and, god forbid, under your dress.

A heavy breath settled in his chest at the possibility, a familiar rush coursing through him as you moved your lips to speak, “Yes. I see a stack of playin’ cards, and I just can't help myself. I got rather good at playing too but when you beat everyone in town at it people start to be less kind about your reputation.”

You laugh, attempting to make a light-hearted joke but ultimately grimacing at the mention of lousy sportsmanship from others. You couldn't help winning a challenge in poker, and many saw the talent as disgraceful, which prompted I'll rumor about you.

“That's a shame, sugar. Everyone deserves a chance to play a good game of their choosing.” he feigns concern, meeting your curious eyes as you shift to face him, “Everyone except me if my father has anything to say about it. Still, I suppose it's best I let it go…” you sigh, grabbing the bottle of whiskey to pour another shot.

Suddenly, you freeze, feeling his body heat invade your space. Alastor tilts his head down close to yours, breathing in your scent discretely before pressing his lips to the lobe of your ear as he mutters into it, “Why don't you play a game with me, chere? One lil’ round for fun… right under your daddy's nose, hm?”

The burn of excitement seizes your body, a shakey breath leaving your lips as his voice settles in your mind, inviting you to indulge his offer. That same heat pooled in your core with every second he spent in your space, inhaling the scent of bourbon and sweet sugar cane grass he rode through radiating off him, words just as inviting and addictive.

For a horrifying, well-feared killer, he sure did entice a woman like any natural-born gentleman…

It was a deathly combination you knew he often used, killing or not, and though it'd be wise to avoid his idea, you didn't want to risk missing an opportunity for the thrill.

It'd been so long, too long, and what's the worst that could happen?

Losing to him?

You'd never lost to anyone before, and you were confident that fact wouldn't change -even going up against the Red Reaper himself.

**Cowboy Alastor** relishes when you utter a ‘yes’ to his offer. His grin widens menacingly for a split second as he sets his glass down next to your empty one, conjuring up a meticulously detailed deck of playing cards and placing them on the table.

“You can choose which game we play, sugar…”

Alastor shifts away from you, letting you regain your composure and watching as your delicate fingers reach for the top card of the deck.

“Poker. A favorite of mine..” You didn't think twice before answering him, admiring the red and black ace in your hand, wondering where he acquired such personalized playing cards.

“Poker it is then, chere,” he smirks wickedly, removing his hat entirely to set it on the table before gingerly plucking the card from your hold and sliding to sit opposite you while dishing out equal amounts of cards between you.

Your eyes light up under the oil lamp's golden hue, studying the flick of his hands as he worked, trying hard not to wander up to his piercing gaze. Afraid he'd immediately see your attraction to his nimble hands, well to him in general, and use it against you somehow, so your focus remains on the hand dealt and not him.

As you both plucked your respective set from the table, studying the cards intently, you asked the singular most crucial question every poker match was built on.

“What will the bets be,” Your innocent inquiry earns sultry laughter from him, filling the air, raising feverish chills on your skin as he stares at you through half-lidded eyes.

“I prefer bargains of the soul, my dear. The use and price of one's existence is always more valuable than money, don't you agree?”

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxx

A/N: Don't be mad AT ME, GUYS, PLEASE. I HAD EXAMS LAST WEEK. I'm SORRY FOR DROPPING OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH… sort of, but I'm back now (please do hate me :((( ). Uh, so I might merge “Down in the Dust” with this because both stories kinda originated in my brain at the same time. However, since this is a request, I wrote a two-part tangent smut as a sort of prequel to the other fic! Also, the phrase “Save a horse. Ride a cowboy” will be unironically used…I'm sorry (I'm not lol) ❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ] VOLUME WARNING!!! 🗣️

Fun fact: In the South, we have a rule that if you take a cowboy hat and end up wearing it, they catch you with it (preferably in the mutual interest of getting to know each other). That cowboy gets to fuck you (hopefully, but technically you're initiating a flirting game wearing their hat, lol). It's a cute concept and one any Cowboy Alastor enthusiast should think about. ❤️ credits to the creator.

[sungbeam]

007!ji changmin x f!reader

you're sent to montenegro to infiltrate a high-stakes poker game, but with the world hanging in the balance, it's a good thing m's sending her best employee along with you—agent 007, ji changmin.

▷ genre, warnings. f2l, james bond/007/spy au, action, suspense, pining(?), minimal angst, humor bc i'm me, violence, blood, death, mentions of alcohol, mentions of weaponry, mentions of corruption, swearing, kissing, near-death experiences, mentions of terrorism but not explicitly discussed, the ending is kinda cheesy im sorry it's late and i like making him yearn, barely proofread (dudes it's so late when im writing this)

▷ word count. 11.1k

▷ based on. casino royale (2006)

a/n: this is for @winterchimez ally's 007 files collab! pls check out the other fics that have been posted 😎 also, this is way lighter than the actual movie, so uhm, yeah!

YOU KNEW FROM THE MOMENT you first stepped into your position as an agent of the Treasury, that Kenneth Kang would be a thorn in your side. Perhaps not even a thorn, but a massive pain in the neck, the back, the ass. He was a man with a helm of pomade for hair and an ego the size of Russia, who, for some odd reason, despised you.

It was funny… the last time you checked, an entity such as Russia wouldn't be so easily threatened by someone like yourself. But here was Kenneth Kang, continuing to email you passive aggressive correspondence as if he wasn't butthurt the director chose you for this task rather than him.

After all, only the best of the best were selected to assist MI6 with their assignments. The fate of the world hung in the balance.

You told Kenneth just that in your last (hopefully) email to him for the trip: The quarterly reports are still due on Monday, Kang. Remember that Director Song excused me from them because I'm off to go save the world—ta-ta! Or something to that effect.

It was unfortunate the government monitored everyone's emails or you would've signed off with something wildly hilarious like “Love (if pigs flew), Director Song's Favorite <3 (not you)”—that would stick it to him—

A clearing throat drew your attention away from your laptop so abruptly, you were glad you didn't get whiplash.

“This seat taken?” You didn't catch a clear glimpse of the man's face before he was already claiming the seat across from you. The voice was awfully familiar, and when you finally saw him, you understood why.

You nearly did a double take, but the surprise swiftly melted away like glaciers in the spring to something like warm amusement. “Ah, do I—uh—know you, sir?” You asked, gently folding your laptop closed so you can gesture to the teapot before you. “Tea?”

Ji Changmin leaned back in his chair, eyes darting from the view outside the train car window and back to you. He dragged his gaze up and down your form, the back of his knuckles pressed against his lips. It did nothing to hide his smile. “Tea would be lovely, thanks.”

You obliged, refilling your cup with the hot beverage and pouring a decent amount into the extra teacup and saucer on his half of the table.

The two of you were currently on a train to Montenegro. Less than 48 hours ago, you were summoned into your director's office, only for the head of MI6 (the elusive M) to join you. You were debriefed on a high stakes poker game being hosted by a man notoriously reputed for funding terrorist organizations around the globe. You were told that M would be sending her “best” along with you to be dealt into the game—you were never given the agent's name or identification number.

But now that you were nearly an hour's ride away from Montenegro, it seemed he finally decided to reveal himself.

“Are you sure you don't remember me, Miss?” He asked, eyebrows raised over the rim of his teacup. “I was so sure that I left a lasting impression on you the last time.”

You slowly raked your eyes over the sharp, dark blue suit he wore, the white dress shirt beneath opened up at the collar, his wrist fitted with a watch that glistened in the afternoon light filtering in through the window. He had cropped his hair since the last time you saw Agent 007, M's so-called “best.” That was about two years ago, when there was a joint-branch charity gala and the two of you shared a dance before he was called away. Before that, you reckoned it was likely your graduation from Cambridge.

Time flew, you supposed, and you'd both been busy.

The corner of your lips lifted as you took a ginger sip of your tea. “Well then, you'll have to do a better job this time. What brings you to Montenegro?”

“Ah, business. You know how it is.”

“A truly dull answer,” you remarked. He couldn't come up with better conversation? You expected more from the man who always prided himself on buttery smooth lines. Where was the fun in ‘business’? “No wonder you've got all of that on. You're dressed like you're about to go buy a company.”

“Could I buy your company?” He asked in jest, tilting his head to the side.

You set your teacup down and a smile flitted over your lips. “I don't think you'd ever have enough money in the world for that.”

He chuckled then and ran his tongue over his bottom lip, catching a droplet of tea clinging to it. “Challenge accepted.”

When the train pulled into the station at Montenegro, it was just about a quarter past two in the afternoon. You and Changmin stood up from your cozy two-seater table to prepare to disembark. You rifled through your laptop tote for your wallet, but before you could retrieve your money, Changmin was already dropping bills on the table.

“Is this yours?” He asked, placing a hand on the bag stowed above the seat. It was a duffle bag that ranged on the smaller size with enough room to store your toiletries, emergency items, and any other things you might have needed. You were informed that clothing and the like would be in your accommodations waiting for you—there must have been a strict dress code for this event.

You shouldered your purse. “Yes, I'm traveling light.”

“Same here.” He grabbed your bag for you, and the two of you were off, shuffling down the aisle toward the nearest exit. Light, indeed. He didn't seem to have any luggage on him, but you supposed an agent of his caliber was provided everything he needed at his accommodations.

The train station, at this hour, was rather busy. People bustled to and fro to get to their trains, the parking lot, the ticket booth, the works. Your instructions once you'd arrived in Montenegro were to get in touch with the agent who was assigned to this case, and that you already accomplished. Until now, that was about all you knew, barring the general mission at-hand.

“I assume you’ll be staying at the Hotel Splendide, as well?” You voiced to him as you walked by his side toward the valet at the front of the station. You never knew a train station to have a valet, but you supposed it made sense if there were luxury, long-haul train cars.

“Your assumption would be correct,” he said. “In fact, we’re sharing a room.” The reveal of this information nearly had you tripping over your own shoes, and you were sure you saw a ghost of a smile make it onto his lips. You narrowed your eyes at him as he carried onward—of course, the two of you were sharing a room. What cover did MI6 even come up with? Something incredibly original like a married couple, you’d bet. Or, god forbid, a man and his mistress. (The thought made you gag.)

Changmin made eye contact with the valet boy, his chin inclining toward him. “Afternoon. It should be under ‘Ji.’”

The boy traced his finger down the edge of his tablet screen and his eyes lit up in recognition. “Ah yes, Mr. Ji,” he said, grabbing a keychain from his station and tossing it over to Changmin, “your car was just delivered two minutes ago. Have a nice trip, sir.”

“Thank you.” A rolled up bill was exchanged so fast that you thought you’d imagined it, and Changmin was walking onward down the length of the curved curb toward a parked vehicle. You followed swiftly after him, and upon further inspection, realized that the vehicle he was striding towards was a sleek Aston Martin in a classy shade of silver. It looked like something straight out of Hollywood, the sight nearly making your knees buckle. It was enough to say that all thoughts of you sharing a room with Changmin flew out the Aston Martin’s window.

Changmin gave a laugh at your reaction, opening the passenger side door for you. “You look more excited to see this car than me, sweetheart.”

“Was I that obvious? She’s beautiful.” You couldn’t help but grin back as you slipped into the smooth, leather seat. The interior was just as beautiful and sleek, with dark colored leather and a shiny center console. While you buckled yourself in, you heard Changmin deposit your bag in the backseat before rounding the car to take his place in the driver’s side.

“I can’t say I disagree,” he said, the door slamming. He retrieved a pair of aviator sunglasses from a compartment above the rearview mirror, donning them, then flashing you a dimpled smile. “Shall we?”

Changmin revved up the engine and pulled out of the train station's front lot onto the scenic road that would wind down the mountains to reach the portside where Hotel Splendide was located.

“I haven't seen you in two years, have you been well?” You piped up, now that the two of you were alone.

He hummed. “Ah, for the most part, yes—I’ve been alright.”

“Trotting the globe, I bet?”

“You'd win that bet, for sure,” he mused. He passed you a brief glance, turning his eyes back to the road. “And you?”

You mimicked the humming sound he'd made earlier. “I've been decent. Just work most days; you know how it is.”

He nodded his understanding. “Social life just as dead as uni?”

An incredulous sound flew out of your mouth, your hand swatting his arm to coax an impish smile from him. “I have friends!”

“Significant others then,” he offered.

You bristled in your seat and met his grin with a stink eye. “There are more important things than finding romance.”

“Still the same Yn as I remember,” he teased. “Now I know you're not an imposter.” A beat of silence, and then, “M must have been very pleased with your performance records to have approved of your director's choice. Not that I'm surprised; you've always been exceptional in your field.”

You turned your head to face the window on your side, barely hiding the pleased smile on your face from his compliment. It had taken a lot of hard work to get where you were, and you should've been proud of yourself. “I appreciate that. Though, I'm sure the fact that we know each other might have something to do with it, too.”

“I think that's just an added bonus,” he remarked optimistically. “You'll know how to keep me in check.” That was, literally speaking, exactly what your role here was. While Changmin was dealt into the game, you controlled the amount of money he was able to use or bet with. Because you were the trusted agent of the Treasury, you would be privy to the amount of money appropriate to use from the government's coffers.

“Who knew one partner project would lead to us saving the world together?” He added offhandedly with almost a nostalgic sort of whimsy.

“Are you ready to be a team player this time, though?” You asked, eyebrow raised. “The rumors say you enjoy flying solo.”

“I fly solo when it's dangerous,” he corrected. Which, you guessed, was most of the time in his line of work.

“So you're saying this mission isn't dangerous?”

“A poker game?” He laughed. “The only dangerous thing about it is gonna be how fast I'm going to win.”

The Hotel Splendide was as splendid as its name suggested. The grand, white limestone facade was carved with arched windows and statues, sleek columns and balconies. This side faced out into the waterfront, giving all arriving patrons a beautiful view of the port.

Changmin directed his car into the cobblestone roundabout at the front of the hotel. When he brought the vehicle to a stop, a bellboy in a maroon colored uniform opened your car door for you and offered a hand to help you out.

“Thank you,” you murmured, rolling your neck and stretching your limbs from the hour-long car ride.

Changmin emerged from the driver's side with his keys in hand, speaking to another attendant about being careful with his vehicle. He rounded the car just as the bellboy grabbed your duffle from the backseat.

“Welcome to the Hotel Splendide. This way to the check-in counter please,” the bellboy said, gesturing toward the front door, framed by an amber-toned awning and crowned in a myriad of flags from around the world.

You felt Changmin's palm warm the small of your back as you clutched your laptop purse in your hands. “Of course, thank you.”

The hotel’s foyer was just as magnificent as its outside. A crystalline chandelier hung from the high-domed ceiling, painting the room in a luxurious champagne gold, while the marble floors were lined in a deep crimson velvet. The front desk was to your immediate left with a number of staff stationed behind it.

The woman you and Changmin went to greeted you both with a polite smile. “Welcome to the Hotel Splendide. May I have the name of your reservation, please?”

“Ji,” your friend answered, “James Ji.”

Your eyebrows flew to your hairline.

“Ah,” the woman said, “but of course, Mr. Ji. Yours and your assistant's suite has been prepared for your arrival.”

Assistant? While she readied the key cards for you, you met Changmin’s gaze with a number of questions in your eyes. He only answered with a helpless expression.

Assistant? As if.

For fear of jeopardizing the mission by correcting the cover MI6 so generously assigned you, you reluctantly kept your mouth shut.

The desk clerk pushed a pair of cards across the polished wood toward you and Changmin—key cards. “These are your keys for your stay in room 700. All amenities, such as room service and the spa, are included in the fees you paid while booking. Your luggage will be delivered to your room for you. Anything you might need may be addressed via the phone in your suite or here at the front desk.”

(Assistant? Did you look like a fucking assistant?)

Changmin collected the room keys and passed you one. “Excellent, thank you. Did any mail arrive for me?”

“Yes, sir. A small parcel was delivered directly to your suite, as well as several garment bags. You'll find them in your wardrobe. Is that all?”

With nothing else to be addressed, you and Changmin thanked the front desk attendant and you were shuttled toward the elevators at the end of the hall. It was a good thing the elevator carriage made a swift arrival, because as soon as the doors slid closed, you let your frustrations be known.

“Assistant?” You exclaimed, gesticulating frustratedly. “Out of all the cover options? That woman probably thinks I'm your mistress!”

“I didn't choose it,” Changmin said, raising his palms in surrender. Though, it was clear by his expression that he was at least amused by your reaction.

You rolled your eyes, then narrowed them and crossed your arms over your chest. “What if you were the assistant, hm? Why aren't I the rich lady with a handsome secretary I take on vacation with me?”

His grin was teasing as he leaned closer to you, your breath hitching for a split second. There was a brief moment where your senses were fully engulfed by the smell of his cologne and the way a lock of his hair curled over his forehead. “You think I'm handsome?”

As if the universe could feel the warmth rising to your cheeks, the elevator doors mercifully opened onto the seventh floor.

He leaned away, something self-satisfied playing on his mouth as he returned his hand to your back. “Okay,” he drawled, “say I'm your handsome assistant…”

“I'm never living that down, am I?” You groaned, already feeling the headache spike in your temples. Your eyes fluttered about the corridor you entered; it was just as beautiful as the lobby downstairs, but with a slightly moodier glow to the lights as if not to disturb any of the patrons on this floor should they wish for an escape from downstair's hustle and bustle.

“Imagine if Chanhee found out you'd said that.”

“Don't get me started on Chanhee.” Room 700 appeared in your sight, and you smacked your key card against the card reader before letting yourself into the room. As the lights flickered on, you asked Changmin from over your shoulder, “Have you heard from him recently, by the way?”

Chanhee was a mutual friend from your college days. While he was technically a closer friend to Changmin, you'd met Chanhee through Changmin after your partner project and grabbed dinner together every once in a while whenever Chanhee was in town.

You were already making a beeline to the bathroom when you heard the hotel room door close and lock behind Changmin. “Recently? Depends on your definition of ‘recently.’”

The sound of your sigh echoed as you absentmindedly fixed your hair in the reflection. Train hair wasn't as poor as airplane hair, that was for sure. “He misses you,” you said in a singsong tone.

“Is that right?” He chuckled. “I'll shoot him a text then.”

He appeared in the reflection behind you holding two black garment bags, one in each hand. He'd shed his suit jacket somewhere, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to expose his forearms. “These are ours for tonight,” he said to you, handing you the one with your name on it.

Ah, tonight. “Thanks,” you said, taking a peek inside to see what exactly was prepared for you. Your curiosity piqued at the sight of deep wine red fabric, but you didn't look any further for the time being.

“Are you ready for tonight?” He asked, stealing a glance at you as he brushed his hair back in the mirror.

At the proximity of tonight's events, you suddenly felt your heart rate climb. Before when this was only an assignment, the gravity of the situation hadn't fallen over you yet. But now that it was your current reality, it began to rush at you with the speed of an oncoming train.

You steeled your nerves. You were tapped to carry out this task for a reason. The only thing you had to do was be wary of Changmin's spending; he was doing the heavy lifting. Even if you were about to be in a room with a few dozen other dangerous people.

You swallowed, nodding. “Ready as I'll ever be.”

He pressed his lips together, his dimples appearing in his cheeks but not because of joy. There was a step forward, then another. “Hey,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone, “I won't let anything bad happen to you or to anybody; that's what I'm here for.”

He draped his garment over his arm and leaned against the bathroom counter beside you. “If we both do our jobs right, we'll be fine. Do you know who our target is? Just so you're aware of who to look out for.”

You nodded, “Le Chiffre.” That was the name of the host of tonight's poker game. He was high on the MI6's most wanted list, and tonight was a critical effort to put a stop to his movements, as well as the credibility he had with his clients. You'd seen pictures of this man—the cold of his eyes and the pale scar that disabled one of his pupils—you were well aware of what he looked like.

“Good,” he murmured. “Then you stay far away from him, got it, sweetheart?”

“Got it.”

Though the gravity of the situation hung heavy in the room after that conversation, Changmin ordered the two of you room service before you needed to prepare for the poker game. You figured food in your stomach would keep you grounded and lessen the nerves trilling through you and making your extremities feel cold to the touch.

Dinner shared in the privacy of your hotel room with an old friend was pleasant. You both sat on the couch sectional next to each other, his arm laid casually over the back of where you sat, as you caught up and dined. There was something oddly warm in his eyes… you didn't know what it was that made him seem so clued into what you were saying, as if he was spellbound. You figured it must be the training he underwent; after all, if he couldn't just muscle his way to an answer, then seduction was also a powerful tool at his disposal.

You just wondered why it was seeping into his interaction with you. Perhaps it became second nature for him to be this way—to lean into every word you said, to brighten at the sound of your laugh, to mirror every smile. To make you feel like you were the only person in his world and that you were all that mattered.

By the time nine o'clock rolled around and you were in the bathroom preparing for the game, your nerves had calmed considerably.

The dress that MI6 provided you was a deep wine evening gown that hugged your upper body and cascaded down the length of your legs before it hung just above your feet. The satin was gathered and left to create a cowl at the neckline, and somebody had thought it was a fabulous idea to leave a high slit in one side all the way up to mid-thigh height. (One wrong move and you were screwed.)

It was as if a river of wine physically wrapped around you as a garment for the night.

Though you appreciated the beauty of it, it only served to make you realize that perhaps controlling Changmin's spending wasn't your only job tonight; your other purpose was to distract everyone else. You weren't sure how you felt about that.

A knock sounded at the bathroom door just as you were fitting on a pair of matching ruby earrings. “Yn?”

“Just a second,” you said. You pushed the earring backing into place and hustled over to open the door. “I'm just finishing… hey.”

Changmin had changed into an all-black suit, a classic piece of uniform that was tailored perfectly to his proportions. His eyes were hooded and dark as he drank you in like a glass of Pinot Noir.

A low whistle drifted out from his lips. “If I'm being honest, you might be a liability in this dress.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you said, turning back to return to the bathroom counter.

Changmin trailed after you, almost dumbfounded, like he'd forgotten why he'd knocked on the door in the first place.

You tried to suppress your smile as you handed him his comb. “See something you like?”

His eyes met yours in the mirror, tongue swiping over his bottom lip. “I do.”

Your expression shuttered in the mirror having not expected that reply at all.

Changmin cleared his throat, stepping to your side to fix his hair with practiced grace. In no time, his appearance was complete, and he was heading out of the bathroom, his cologne lingering by you.

When you were satisfied, you turned off the bathroom light on your way out to meet Changmin in the main room. He was by the safe, fitting a fresh magazine into a silver pistol with skilled hands. He felt your gaze on the weapon and passed you a glance. “We can't carry weapons into the room,” he told you, “but it's a good idea to have one ready here.”

You bobbed your head in agreement, though you felt your shoulders tighten.

He locked up the safe before making his way toward you. “Do you know how to use one of these?” He asked.

You shook your head. “It was never in my job description,” you said quietly. “I hope you don't have to use it.”

There was a graveness to his gaze now. “I hope I don't have to either.” Because both of you knew, if it came down to it, he wouldn't hesitate.

The room where it happened was deep in the bowels of the hotel, somewhere below the casino floor and above the core of the earth. To get in, one was required an exclusive invitation, which was the item Changmin had received in the small parcel from earlier in the afternoon.

You and Changmin arrived on the scene arm in arm, your posture straight in an effort to come off as nonchalant. As you descended the velvet-lined stairs into the basement room, you were confronted by a pair of broad-shouldered bodyguards with body scanners in their hands. After retrieving Changmin's invitation, you were both scanned separately for security, before being granted entry.

The playing room was on the smaller side with a fully equipped bar on the furthest wall of the room. The centerpiece was an oval table, barred off with railings for spectators to lean on while the game was played. There were a sprinkling of others here, both players and their guests.

Your initial scan of the room, unsurprisingly, produced no familiar faces—but your arm tightened around Changmin's when you caught sight of the man of the hour. Le Chiffre stood on the opposite side of the room, nursing a coup glass of liquor as he spoke in low tones with another man. From this angle, you could see the cut of his one glassy eye and the angry scar that marred his face.

“Our four o'clock,” you muttered between your teeth to your counterpart.

Changmin glanced over out of his peripheral vision, nodding subtly. “How about a drink, sweetheart?” He asked you, his voice slightly louder than your own.

You gave a small smile, and he began to lead you over to the bar.

As the two of you moved, you couldn't shake the feeling of eyes trailing after you, something akin to spidersilk clinging to your limbs that you could never quite brush off. It was no secret that you were one of the few women in the room.

When you reached the bar, Changmin flagged the bartender down. “A vodka martini, please—shaken, not stirred—and a mint julep for the lady.”

“Right away, sir.”

You looked over at Changmin with an impressed purse of your lips. “You remembered,” you mused.

The corner of his lip tilted upward. “How could I forget?”

With your drinks served to you, you gently sipped on your mint julep. It wouldn't do you well to get drunk tonight; you just needed a little liquid courage.

From your side, Changmin stared out into the crowd, likely assessing his opponents in the room. He made a small noise of consideration that made you prompt him. He answered lowly, “You see the man to our nine o'clock?—”

You followed his instructions and casted a single glance that way. At the other end of the bar stood a man in a gray suit, nursing a rum and coke in his hands as he assessed the room for himself.

“—Lee Juyeon. CIA.”

Your eyebrows flicked upward. “Interesting. Are they after our man, too?”

“Good chance that they are,” he said and raised his glass to his lips. He swallowed the last of his drink and set the empty glass behind him, leaning the elbow closest to you against the bar behind him. “Know how to play poker?”

“I’m more of a Go Fish girl, actually.”

He sputtered a laugh, and you smiled into your glass. “You're kidding. Not even a little?”

“Go fish, Mr. Ji,” you said and gestured to him with your glass. “Do tell though, since your boss seems to have so much faith in you. What's the secret to winning poker?”

You hadn't even realized how close your faces were tilted toward each other until you registered the smell of his drink on his breath and the shine on his lips. For a plot second, you swore his eyes even dared a glance away from your own.

Neither of you backed away from the other and remained in the intimate gray space.

“The secret?” He parroted, cocking an eyebrow. He tugged at his bottom lip. “The secret is figuring out what everyone else's tells are. It's about bluffing and strategy. If you can figure out how to tell when a person is lying, then you're practically set.”

You hummed. “I see. So what's my tell?”

“Your tell?” His gaze on you was hot and heavy as his eyes devoured you slowly but surely for yet another instance tonight. You could no longer ignore the rapid hammering of your heart, its insistent palpitations threatening to expose you to the man you swore could already see right through you.

His lips pulled into a slow smile, the kind you couldn't decide if it really was a smile or a smirk. “That’s for me to know, and you to figure out.”

“You don't know then.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart.”

A hush fell over the room. You followed everyone's eyes up to the man who had summoned the room's attention. Le Chiffre stood atop the poker table's platform with a small laptop seated upon the table's edge.

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the game,” he greeted coolly. “We will begin this evening's festivities with an introduction to our security protocols. This device—” he gestured to the computer, “—is fully secured to store and activate all of the night's betting money. Each player will enter a six-character code, unique to them, that will grant them access to the winning sum—should they win.”

A small murmur of laughter amongst the crowd; you didn't find it funny.

“We will begin with Mrs. Takeuchi.”

One by one, each of the players present tonight came forward to input a six-charactered passcode of their choosing. When Changmin was summoned forward, you watched as his expression became a careful, unreadable slate. He strode up toward the poker table, eyes never leaving Le Chiffre and Le Chiffre's never leaving Changmin. You could feel the tension in the room tighten, and Changmin confidently input his desired password.

When he pressed ENTER, you swore you could feel the fifteen million dollars being locked into the pot. Fifteen million was a shit ton of cash. The amount you were not willing to go beyond was twenty million. As long as Changmin played safe and played well, it wouldn't be a problem.

Not before long, the players were all summoned to the table. You sent Changmin off with a reassuring squeeze of his shoulder, and followed behind him to find a space at the railing to watch.

Changmin settled in the chair directly across from Le Chiffre.

The dealer passed out two cards to every player, each of whom hoarded a stack of chips and rectangular plaques that valued up to fifteen million. As the dealer revealed the four cards before him—two jokers, a king, and an ace—the game was on.

You weren't even sure what you were looking for, but the sinking feeling in your gut would not fade the entire game. You held onto your mint julep until it was drained, eyes trained on the cards lying face down in Changmin's hands as he watched Le Chiffre across from him like a hawk.

He was looking for his tell, you realized.

The match was tense. You couldn't pull your gaze away, for fear of missing some minute detail, even if each move made was technically quite large. In the beginning, however, it felt as though everyone was playing it safer, for fear of getting out too early.

The night was young, and it would do none of them any good if they lucked out of a pot of at least one hundred million.

You watched Changmin, who watched Le Chiffre. You noted the way Le Chiffre would occasionally bring his left hand up to his scarred eye… was that his tell?

It was nearing one hour when it was only Changmin and Le Chiffre who had yet to fold. The dealer called for Changmin to make his move, and you looked over to your counterpart as the gears turned and twisted in his mind.

“I'm all in,” he decided, and shifted his entire pile into the center, mounting up to some amount close to twelve million.

You pressed the backs of your knuckles to your lips in anticipation of Le Chiffre's move. The man did not cower, but rather, called his bet. He moved his pile of fourteen million to the center. All in.

“Gentlemen,” the dealer gestured for their cards to be revealed.

They flipped their cards into view—you could feel the scandal rocket through the crowd.

“A pair of jacks. Monsieur Le Chiffre wins. This marks the halfway point of the match; we will return in one hour to resume, with the big blind set at two hundred thousand.”

Everyone around the table, both players and spectators, began to dissipate to find something to distract them for the hour-long break.

Changmin's posture was taut as a bowstring as Le Chiffre pulled his mouth into a sly smirk across from him. “Ah, Mr. Ji. You must have interpreted my tell wrong. Off your game tonight, don't you think?”

A muscle feathered in the agent's jaw. “I wouldn't be so quick to boast,” he drawled. “The game's not over yet.”

You didn't know what to say, but you knew one thing was for certain—no matter what, you and Changmin could not let Le Chiffre leave tonight with the jackpot. And as Changmin departed the table with a crease between his brows but his head held high, you knew what was on his mind, as well.

“Need a drink?” You asked, as he met you where you stood.

Changmin shook his head. “No, I'm alright,” he said, glancing about. He nudged the back of your shoulder with his fingers, guiding you toward the exit. “Let's get out of this room for a moment though.”

You weren't going to argue with that decision, and the two of you linked arms and made your departure.

When the cool air in the lobby swept over you and all the tension in your body left for a brief moment of paradise. It was so stifling down in that room; you were almost thankful to be wearing this dress.

You and Changmin lingered at the top of the railing that looked down into the lobby from the second flood, heads close together. “What now?” You asked him.

“I need more money.”

“I can give you five million, but that's my limit, Changmin,” you told him firmly.

His brows crossed together. “Five million isn't enough to go toe to toe with a guy who just ended round one with thirty—”

“That's not my fault; this is policy.” You knew the world hung in the balance, but while that was his job, this was yours. You sighed. “Maybe I can contact someone about approving more, but right now, five million is our only option. Do we not have a plan B?”

Changmin's lips pressed into a line. “Plan B is hoping he does something fucking illegal in front of my face, and praying that reinforcements come in fast enough to take him away.”

Now it was your turn for your brows to crease. “Why do we have to wait for him to do something illegal? Don't we know he's a criminal?”

“We're onto him, yes, but there has been no tangible proof that he's a corrupt banker,” Changmin admitted tersely. He absentmindedly rubbed his jaw with his palm. “If we could just—”

“Ji.”

Both you and Changmin straightened. Coming toward you from down the hall was Lee Juyeon, the CIA agent Changmin had pointed out to you earlier.

You didn't fail to notice the way Changmin blocked you from Juyeon's view with his body. “Lee,” Changmin greeted back.

Juyeon nodded to you in hello with a warm smile, and you lifted your hand to wave. He seemed decent enough.

Changmin’s eyes narrowed as he shifted so he stood next to you now, an obvious arm slung around your waist. “I didn't know the CIA was on this.”

“I didn't know the MI6 was on this,” Juyeon fired back. He let out a sigh that sounded about as stressed as you were. “I wanted to propose a deal with you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, well—” Juyeon cupped the back of his neck with one hand. “I'm not the most adept poker player,” he confessed. If you remembered correctly, he nearly lost half his money throughout round one—then again, Changmin lost all of his. According to Le Chiffre, it was because he had read his tell incorrectly; you must have interpreted the wrong one, too. “And I figured that I'm not going to be making enough right moves in the second round to even stand a chance against Le Chiffre. You've got the balls to go up against him, and I know you're down a few bucks, so I wanted to bow out of the round and stake you instead.”

Both you and Changmin glanced at one another in surprise.

Juyeon was backing out… and wanted to stake Changmin? Stake, meaning to invest or sponsor him; to give Changmin funds.

Changmin's eyes narrowed. “And what would I do for you in return?”

“You would give the CIA Le Chiffre.”

What other choice did you and Changmin have? Five million was not enough to make a winning comeback; at least being sponsored would give Changmin enough cushion to make some more mistakes. The allyship between your governments was enough to make the CIA taking Le Chiffre in the end seem like a victory.

Changmin exhaled and stuck out his hand. “Deal.”

The second round was no less tense than the first. Changmin entered with more determination and fury than before, and Le Chiffre was no short of amusement and arrogance.

After Juyeon made his official departure from the game, he came to stand by you to spectate and offer insights wherever he could. The game chugged on by for another half hour with bets being placed, drinks being sipped, and money being exchanged.

You watched Changmin reach for his glass again, only to pause. There was a moment where you didn't breathe, and you watched his hand retract up toward his shirt collar to loosen it.

“Something wrong, Mr. Ji?” Le Chiffre asked.

You squinted at him, disliking the sinking feeling that had returned to your gut.

“Break,” Changmin suddenly called out, as he stumbled out of his seat and pushed out of the room in a hurry.

Eyes widened, you bolted after him, leaving Juyeon to wonder what had happened to Changmin.

You called out to your partner as he stumbled into the elevator, and you crashed in after him. “Oh my—fuck. What the fuck happened?” You asked as Changmin toppled over into you, sweat dripping down his face and his skin growing more and more flushed.

You jammed the button for your floor in a hurry as you attempted to hold him upright. “God, you're heavy, man—”

“Poison,” he choked out, practically ripping his shirt collar open, as if it was constricting his breathing. He gasped for air and clung onto you like a lifeboat.

Panic seized you by the heart and squeezed hard. “Oh my god. Okay—uhm, okay. What do we do? Changmin, what do we do?”

The elevator arrived on the seventh floor, and you half dragged Changmin toward your room. “The—the antid—antidote—”

“The antidote! We have an antidote?” You didn't have time to question him as you retrieved your room card from within your dress and barged into the hotel suite.

You deposited Changmin onto the floor as quickly and carefully as you could, hands shaking as you helped to take his shirt off so he could breathe.

“Safe,” he gasped to you.

“The safe? Fuck, what's the code?” You asked, clambering to your feet and racing over to the black box in the wall.

You heard him choke out the four digits, and the safe swung open without ceremony. You rifled around the contents and retrieved an aluminum foil packet with a slim syringe inside. “Found it!” You cried and practically slid across the floor to get back to him.

You ripped the packet open as Changmin's breathing continued to shallow, his skin paling, and his body growing weaker. His left palm had landed somewhere on his thigh—inject here.

“Shit,” you swore, grimacing to yourself before stabbing the syringe into his leg.

As soon as the liquid was gone, all you could do was pray.

But the storm clouds were beginning to clear, and color slowly returned to Changmin's face. You sank back onto your heels, relief and adrenaline coursing through you.

“Fucking hell, that was a close—”

White hot pain flashed through you as something—someone—grabbed you by your hair and yanked. Your scream pierced through the silence, and it was nearly enough to wake the dead.

They were dragging you backward toward the door, and you reached up to claw at their hands, your skull feeling as if it was being pulled into a million directions while being set ablaze, all at once.

“Let—go!” You screeched, thrashing around. You couldn't see your captor, but they suddenly released their grip on you.

Relief was short-lived.

Your head whipped to the side as a shoe met your cheek. Stars danced in your vision, and you cried out in pain—and then you begged. You were certain Changmin was still recovering, hardly in a state to save you, and desperation began to claw itself into your heart.

Your body was hoisted up beneath your armpits and you squirmed, fighting for your life.

For a second, you were sure you heard Changmin call out your name.

You threw your elbow back into your attacker's face, then tried the back of your head—the sound of pain and bones cracking echoing in your eardrum.

“You bitch!” They roared, loosening their grip to feel their broken nose.

You were a mess as you landed on the ground. A gleam of silver caught your eye. The gun.

Adrenaline seized you and you made a mad dash for the table where the gun was stowed beneath.

Your opponent caught your ankle and dragged you back down to earth. There was no time to mourn over bruised knees and limbs, and you kicked your heels out behind you in a blind fury, desperate to get away.

“Yn—”

“Please,” you screamed, begged. Whoever that was—you just wanted this to end. Fear coursed through you as your body began moving backwards and was dragged back to the door.

You dug your fingers against the polished ground, unsuccessfully gaining purchase. You clutched at a chair leg and dragged it along with you, and felt the hand around your ankle tighten—

With all your strength, you took the chair and heaved it back toward your captor. He let out a garbled swear, only agitated by your continued resistance. The hand around your ankle disappeared and you took it as an opportunity to get away.

“Not so fast.”

Your body hit the ground, the back of your head making purchase against stone. This time, you saw your assailant—he was one of the guards from earlier, likely working under Le Chiffre's orders. Blood dribbled down his lower face, courtesy of your retaliation.

“I should just kill you here and now,” he growled and enclosed his meaty hands around your neck. “Won't make a difference.”

You struggled against him, but to no avail. Your windpipe was being crushed and your vision blurred.

You thrashed and scratched and kicked—this was the end. Oh god, was this the end?—

A shot rang out.

Air slowly began seeping into your airway and you hacked a cough around the hands that had fallen away from your throat.

The dead body above you was heavy and sticky, and the smell of iron permeated your nose like a nightmare. You didn't even realize your cheeks were damp until you blinked and tears filled your eyes.

You nearly died just then.

With a suppressed sob, you shoved the dead body off you with all of your remaining strength.

There, by the table, was Changmin and the smoking gun in his hand. He still looked only half conscious, but he'd managed to get himself to sit up with pure willpower, enough to reach the gun stashed beneath the table, and to aim and fire a shot.

The room was quiet for a few moments, other than the persistent ringing in your ears.

Then you let yourself cry—it shook through your body and shoulders in violent sobs.

Changmin's chest clenched painfully at the sound, and the gun clattered out of his hand so he could crawl his way over to you. His hair, his face, his clothes were all dampened in sweat and the empty syringe laid abandoned on the floor. He made it over to where you were, the red of your dress mixed with the blood of a dead man, and held your body close to his.

“I'm sorry,” he muttered against your hair, lips pressed against your crown. “You’re okay; we're okay now,” he promised.

With his strength slowly returning to him, Changmin sat himself upright and let your body lean against him. You grappled onto him so tightly, as if he might slip out of your grasp.

It was almost thirty minutes later that you and Changmin returned to the poker game. With some gentle coaxing, he got you into the shower to wash the blood away, but you couldn't get the icky feeling clinging to you. He'd been gentle, though, letting you sit beneath the stream in your dress as he got onto the shower floor with you to run the water and soap through your hair.

In his hold, he rocked you gently through the tremors. “No one's gonna hurt you anymore, sweetheart,” he rasped. Never again, not if he could help it.

You'd never seen him like that—all the tenderness in his gaze out in the open.

And you'd only seen it when you glanced up at him once; the rest of the time, you tucked your chin to your knees, staring at a tile.

Unnerved but still alive, you entered the room with another clean dress, and Changmin with another clean set of clothes. You returned to your place beside Juyeon, and Changmin went back to the table to face Le Chiffre.

Le Chiffre, however, looked as if he'd seen a ghost. His eyes had widened just a millimeter, but it was enough.

Changmin dragged up the sleeves of his dress shirt, a predatorial-like gleam in his eyes. You almost killed me. Even worse, you dared to lay a dirty hand on her. “Sorry about that,” he drawled, gaze lifting to meet Le Chiffre's, “seemed that last hand nearly killed me.”

His opponent swallowed.

The game resumed.

With the final phase in play, the dealer announced that there could be no more buy-ins. Juyeon had fetched you a drink, which you were most grateful for, and Changmin avoided all beverages for the remainder of the game.

“Everything alright?” Juyeon asked you quietly as you chugged your drink.

“Perfectly.” You handed the drink off to a waiter nearby and smiled tightly. “We were just strategizing on how to murder this game.” You hoped he didn't hear the tremor in your voice.

As the final round approached, each of the four finalists that were left alive were asked to make their bets. Each player slowly, but surely, slid all of their remaining chips into the center.

Everyone was all in.

“Reveal your cards, if you please.”

One by one, the cards in each player's hand was turned. The room held its collective breath as Le Chiffre revealed an ace and a six—a fuller house, with three aces and two sixes.

All that was left were Changmin's.

With little more than an arched brow, he slid his cards apart: a five and seven, both of which were spades. When joined together with the rest, they made—

“A straight flush,” announced the dealer. “Monsieur Ji wins the game.”

Cheers and applause rang out throughout the room as the game finally came to a close. Relief soared through you, and you shook hands with Juyeon at Changmin's success. Perhaps twenty million had been spent, but it all meant that you had won back that money in full.

From your standpoint, you couldn't see Le Chiffre's reaction, but he didn't look pleased. He stormed out of the room only moments later.

Changmin was swift to join the two of you, his hand coming to lie on your shoulder. “We should go after him,” he said.

Juyeon nodded, expression sobering. “You're right.”

“I'm going with you,” you told him. Already anticipating his refusal, you shut him down with a look. Though you might have been shaken from the night's near-death experience, it only seemed to steel over your resolve to catch this bastard. “I'm safer with you; don't try to argue with me.”

He knew you were right—you saw the reluctant agreement in his eyes. He grunted, “Okay, but you're staying behind me the entire time and when I say run, you better run.”

You patted his chest and followed after Juyeon. “Of course.”

The three of you raced after Le Chiffre in the direction he disappeared. He'd gone up to the second floor via the grand staircase in the lobby, but neither you nor the other boys knew which direction he went from there. The second floor was damn near close to a labyrinth.

“We split up,” Changmin declared. “Me and Yn go one way and Juyeon takes the other.”

“Wait, Juyeon goes alone?” You butted in. “Le Chiffre is dangerous and desperate; that combination isn't good for anybody.”

“None of us have any weapons either,” Juyeon pointed out.

Changmin gestured to you. From beneath the skirt of your new dress, you withdrew the pistol from earlier out into the light. After what happened in your suite, the both of you thought it best to let security measures be damned and holster a gun to your inner thigh. And now, it was proving to be the right decision.

Juyeon deadpanned, amending, “I don't have a weapon.”

“Then you should go get one,” Changmin said smartly. You rolled your eyes at him.

“I—shit.” Juyeon huffed in frustration. “Goddamn it. You better hold your promise, Ji.”

“My word is gold,” Changmin swore as you passed him the pistol. “We'll find Le Chiffre; you call for backup.”

With that matter settled, you grabbed Changmin's hand and set off in one direction.

His fingers tightened around you as you stuck close behind him. The corridor was hauntingly quiet with not a soul around. You and Changmin trudged onward and kept your eyes and ears open for anybody hiding behind a corner or waiting to enact revenge on your poker victory tonight.

The hair on your arms and the back of your neck stood erect, heart thundering loudly in your ears.

So loud, that you almost missed it.

You caught Changmin's eyes. Did you hear that?

There it was—it sounded like voices coming from a room further down the hall.

“—please, just a few more weeks, and I can get you your money back!”

A muffled response in return.

“NO! I swear, I'll do better! I have another i—”

You never heard the end of Le Chiffre's offer. There was only the sound of a metallic swish, followed by a dull weight hitting the ground. A body.

Your breath hitched as you and Changmin looked around wildly for a swift exit or cover. There was an emergency stairwell just a few doors down.

Changmin grabbed you and booked it.

Your breath caught in your throat as he pressed you against the open doorway, eyes flickering somewhere behind you to watch the door the voices had come from.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, eyes furiously searching your own.

You didn't have to think about it. “Yes.”

Just as a door opened in the hallway, Changmin cupped your jaw with his hand, braced himself against the doorway with the other, and kissed you.

Your eyes fluttered closed upon immediate impact and you felt your heart leap into your throat. His lips moved gently against your own, as if afraid of breaking you, and his hand moved down from your jaw to wrap around your waist to pull you flush against him.

One moment you were melting into his embrace, and the next, he was shoving you behind the other side of the doorway for cover.

A war cry rang out—not Changmin, you realized—as a body blurred past you and was thrown into the stairwell's metal railing. Your soul nearly left your body, head turning in time to throw yourself out of the way of the incoming bodies.

Changmin brawled and grappled on the floor with a second man, a silver machete glistening in the dim light, only a few centimeters from his throat. The first man was slowly beginning to stand up, and your eyes tracked where Changmin's gun had skidded to the floor.

You swiped the gun up just as Changmin wrestled his opponent off him.

With adrenaline powering through you, you smashed the butt of the gun against the back of the man's skull. He crumpled to the cement—unconscious.

“Here,” you breathed, helping Changmin to his feet and shoving the gun into his hand.

He shook his dizziness away, eyes widened on something behind you. “YN, DUCK!”

You swore, and dropped to the ground, narrowly missing the arc of the first man's machete attempting to remove the head from your shoulders.

You dove down the first set of stairs to get out of the way of the fight, your knees and hands scraping against the cement and bruising.

The man with the machete attacked Changmin with reckless abandon, swinging his blade and striking the railing to make sparks fly. Changmin had no opening to use his firearm and—oh shit. They were coming this way.

“Yn, you better be fucking running.”

He didn't need to tell you twice. You tumbled down more stairs, ditching your heels as you went. You would be useless in this fight, so your best action would be to get the fuck out of the way.

Changmin's breath flew out of his chest as he hit the wall hard, then stuck his hands out in time to stop the assassin from impaling his head on the sword. Changmin drove his knee into his stomach, then threw him across the stairs to the opposite landing.

The fight clambered on down the spiral stairwell, metal clashing against metal, and bone and flesh grinding against stone. Changmin gritted his teeth as he fumbled backwards down the stairs, hitting the opposing wall with even more momentum.

He ducked—and missed another swing; and another; and another.

There was a kick to his gut, and his body went flying. His assailant took a leaping start and charged. Changmin grabbed at his hands again, desperately attempting to wrestle the machete away.

The weapon went sailing; that was his opening.

With pure adrenaline, Changmin fisted the man's shirt and flung him over whatever railing was left. You cursed as his body hit the basement floor with a thump.

Changmin tackled him as he attempted to climb to his feet. With the violent thrashing, Changmin ended up beneath him, his arm wrapped tightly around his opponent's neck, and he squeezed.

The man's arm flopped about, desperately reaching for the gun that scattered onto the floor from all the ruckus. If he could just reach it—

You lunged for the gun, tripping as the man clawed at your ankle to throw you off. You shrieked, swinging the barrel at his hand to knock it away.

When you finally managed to scramble backward, you watched the light fade in the assassin's eyes.

As soon as the man slumped in death, Changmin loosened his grip and crawled out from beneath the body.

You clambered over to him and helped him to his feet, his joints and muscles screaming as he attempted to straighten. He groaned, white-knuckling the railing, “Fucking hell.”

“Are you okay? Holy shit, Changmin,” you said, wrapping your arms around him to hold him up. There had been too many close calls there.

You passed a glance over at the corpse lying on the floor about a meter away from you. A shudder rippled down your spine, and you felt Changmin's hand on your forearm, like he knew.

From up above, you heard the sound of the stairwell door opening. The two of you peered straight upwards as a familiar face peered over the landing.

“Le Chiffre's dead,” said Juyeon. In his hand was a pistol; it seemed he finally retrieved his firearm.

“No shit,” you and Changmin replied simultaneously, chests heaving up and down in laborious panting.

Juyeon blinked, squinting his eyes to take in your appearances. “What the fuck happened to you guys?”

“Careful,” you called up to him, “that guy isn't dead.”

Juyeon jolted and he considered the body at his feet with new awareness.

You threw one of Changmin's arms around you to begin the ascent back up. “Can you—fuck. Is that yours?” You swore for the thousandth time tonight as you peered over at the growing dark splotch of red seeping through Changmin's shirt.

He hung his head as strength rapidly bled out of him with his own life force, and you carefully laid Changmin down on the ground.

“Juyeon!” You called out. “Juyeon, help!”

You heard rapid footsteps in the distance, but it faded to background noise as you ripped open Changmin's shirt and came face to face with the vicious knife wound in his abdomen. “Oh my god,” you whispered. God, there was so much blood.

“Cover the wound, Yn,” Juyeon said to you as he leapt down the final steps. “Fuck, this looks bad.”

“He must not have begun to feel it until the adrenaline was over,” you reasoned in a desperate attempt to keep your head on straight. Per Juyeon's instructions, you pressed your palms over the wound, bile rising in your throat from all the blood. “Changmin—Changmin, come on. Stay with me.”

He murmured something you couldn't hear, and you leaned your ear down over his lips. “Come on, talk to me, love. Tell me something, anything.”

His voice came out, barely there. “I'm… I'm glad I got—I got to see you again.”

And he would see you again. That was a promise you made to yourself, and to him, as Juyeon called for his reinforcements and you clung onto Ji Changmin's life with your own.

When Changmin came to, it was bright enough to blind him. There was a fuckass beam of sunlight shining right into his eyes, and he blinked rapidly, wrinkling his face into a grimace. There was a violent throbbing in his abdominal area that ached when he attempted to roll over or sit up.

Was he dead?

“You're not dead.”

His body immediately relaxed into the sheets he was settled in. When his eyes grew accustomed to the god awful amount of light in the room, he was met by the sight of your face, silhouetted against the sun, and beautiful. “Are you sure? 'Cause I'm pretty sure you're an angel.”

Your palm came over to rest against his forehead, and his eyes fluttered shut. “You must still have that fever,” you teased.

When you both shared a laugh, he opened his eyes again.

It seemed he was in a hospital room—well, something akin to that. It looked more like a small bedroom was transformed into one, and he laid on the bed with a heart rate monitor hooked up to him on the side. You perched on the edge of his bed with a cardigan draped over your frame, and something soft in your eyes.

No, he was definitely in heaven. Maybe he didn't die, but he was in heaven.

Your expression sobered as your hand drifted down to caress the side of his face. “You lost a lot of blood,” you whispered. “I was really worried about you.”

Changmin brought his hand up to gently take your wrist and turn your palm inward, his lips meeting your hand in a butterfly kiss. “Hey, sweetheart. I'm alright now, see?” He intertwined your fingers, missing the feeling of how they felt interlocked in the hotel hallway.

The hotel hallway—the fight—Le Chiffre—the kiss. His lips seared at the memory, and he fought the urge to touch his lips at the phantom sensation.

“What happened?” He croaked out instead, gazing up at you. His heart tugged against its confines when he made out the shape of dark purple smudged against your cheekbone. It was the bruise forming from the guard who came after you, and it made Changmin ache to see.

Hurt, you'd been so hurt.

You shifted your body so you could tuck your feet onto the bed, too. “Juyeon came with reinforcements and we got you out of there as soon as possible. One of Le Chiffre's clients killed him—the guys you fought with in the stairwell. Apparently he'd used their money to buy into the game, and because he wasn't able to win, they killed him.”

Changmin stared up at the eggshell-colored ceiling. He supposed that would have been the tangible evidence needed to convict Le Chiffre, but his client was faster at acting as judge, jury, and executioner.

“M's on her way to meet with you,” you continued, your thumb gently tracing dizzying circles onto the back of his hand.

“To be expected,” he chuckled. He glanced back up at you. “How are you? Were you hurt at all?”

You shook your head. “No, nothing to your extent. There were a few scratches and bruises, but nothing time won't heal.”

“And everything else?” Your mental state, especially after all you went through, could not have been in a terrific place. If he could have prevented you from experiencing any of what happened, he would do it in a heartbeat.

The pure fear that speared through his chest when he thought you were about to die…

He had long since figured out that what he felt for you was not simply platonic. It was more—he yearned for more. Seeing you again after so long just made it worse.

You made a noncommittal noise. “I'll… I'll be alright.”

For a moment, the room filled with only silence and the white noise from the heart rate monitor. You suddenly perked up at something, and turned to reach over to grab an item from the side table. Changmin recognized the small laptop device from the poker game now seated on your lap.

“The money pit from the game was stored in escrow in a Swiss bank. A representative from the bank delivered this to us,” you explained, showing him the screen. It left room for a passcode to be filled in. “To the victor go the spoils, love.”

The nickname made him shudder and he forced himself into an upright position.

“Changmin—”

“I got it,” he countered and stubbornly gritted his teeth through the pain until he was seated against the headboard next to you. He clutched his injury, head knocked back against the wood. “Well? Wanna guess the password?”

You lifted your brows in amusement. “Do you know how many six letter combinations exist out there? For all I know, it was a random keyboard smash.”

He chuckled lowly, leaning his chin against your shoulder. “S.”

We're really doing this? You seemed to ask with the expression on your face. You humored him, though, pressing down on the S key.

“W.”

The letters that followed amounted to S-W-T-H-R-T. You were quiet for a second as you stared at the final combination; you didn't want to press the enter key just yet.

Changmin murmured against your shoulder. “I'm not one for corny messages, but that's a 'sweetheart’ if I've ever seen one.”

You were still quiet as you pressed enter and unlocked the winner's pot. There was no special celebration, no balloons or confetti—just a solid number with too many zeroes for your little heart to handle. Perhaps, in the end, there really was no amount of money in the world that could buy your company. Not if you freely gave it, at least.

Changmin felt his chest lurch. “Yn, sweetheart, say something.” He leaned off your shoulder so you could turn your body to face him, the laptop returning to its place on the side table.

“What should I say?” You asked, your fingers playing with his own in your two hands.

“I'm sorry if the kiss was too much.”

You faltered for a second. “It, uhm, it wasn't too much. I actually thought that it was nice.”

“You did?” He hated the way hope made him feel, how it made his heart sprout wings—maybe he was dead.

A small smile crawled onto your lips and you dug your teeth into your bottom lip. “Maybe I did.” You raised a hand to the side of your face, an embarrassed groan falling out of your mouth. “God, I feel like a teenager with a crush again.”

“Giddy?”

“Pathetic,” you teased. You leaned your head against the headboard again as you looked over at him with the most beautiful gleam in your eyes he had ever seen.

He never understood the romanticizing of someone's eyes—what else had he ever discerned but fear or boredom? But he could hear your laugh just by seeing your smile reach your eyes, and he could feel the warmth spreading in his chest and making electricity zip down his spine from the tenderness in your irises.

He swallowed hard. “If you feel pathetic, then I am literally chopped liver,” he said. A surge of courage, the kind that was a trademark of his reputation, propelled his next words: “I'd like to kiss you again.”

Your eyes darted to his lips and he clung onto that detail as if he were hanging by a thread. “Because you saved the world, Agent 007, you can kiss the girl,” you mused.

You leaned over him slightly and cupped the back of his head, mouth meeting his own in a familiar dance. Even with his injury, he pushed back to meet you, and ignored the throbbing in his stomach, so he could haul you closer, over, around him. Anything to get you pressed up against him.

Real—you were real, and you were alive, and so was he.

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed! omg that permanent taglist looks SCARY 😭😭😭

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr @mars101 @moonyswolf @your-mirae @richasdiary @deobi0412 @sunramzi @honeyrecommends @synthwxve @dearly-somber @empire-x @kflixnet

[five-bi-five-mind]

Instead

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x fem!reader

Genre: Angst-ish, Hurt & Comfort, Smut

Words: 9.4k+

Summary: JJ had been in love with you from the very moment she met you. The only problem is, you've been with someone else this whole time. Not only that, but he treats you like shit and you keep running back to him. Is there more to it than she knows or do you truly love him the way she wished you loved her?

Warnings: Mentions of stalking, cheating, and unhealthy relationships. Smut, fingering (r receiving), marking (r receiving), top!JJ, bottom!r, smut with a lot of feelings okay

A/N: I was really into this concept and then I really wasn't... but it's finished and now I can move on to other fics. Hope y'all enjoy it though!

(gif not mine, credit to greencways)

This happened way too often, but JJ was there every single time. She knew the signs, knew what was going on. You didn’t have to say a word and she would immediately understand what was going on with you. It was the look in your eyes, even when you smiled. Those eyes always said the opposite of whatever you tried to tell her. Or even what you tried to tell yourself. 

He was always bad for you, from the moment JJ met him, she knew he wasn’t ever going to be what you deserved. And, boy, was she completely right. She lost count of the amount of times she would catch you bawling your eyes out over something stupid he said or did. You’d often try to appear unbothered, but the minute she would approach you and ask if you were okay, you’d utterly fall apart. And every single time, she would open her arms for you to fall into. She would stroke your hair and wipe your tears and tell you all about how he’s not good enough for you and that you deserve someone who would never treat you nearly as bad as he did. There was always the silent sentence she never said, though. The one that ends with something along the lines of someone like me or I would never treat you that way. But she always held her tongue, feeling selfish everytime she was tempted to say it.

Without fail, whenever there was a fight, your horrible boyfriend would come back with some excuse, some way of apologizing, and you’d rip yourself from her arms and fall right back into his. Not that you even knew that JJ wanted you to stay in her arms, but it still hurt like hell every single time. She tried to tell herself for a while that it hurt so much because she knew he would hurt you so much. You were her closest friend, so of course it was just that she cared deeply for you like a friend should. Right? That lie only lasted so long. A year went by and she was stuck with this horrible crushing feeling in her chest. Finally, JJ couldn’t deny it at all anymore. It was incredibly obvious to everyone except for you, it seemed, that she was completely in love with you. 

So then she went through these phases each time you took him back. It would start with the painful feeling of rejection, even if you were completely unaware that you were rejecting her. Then she would get angry. Go, be in love, JJ would think, I don’t care. But that was a complete lie, because she would remember all the times you’d smile at her. Really smile. A smile she swore you’d never give that man. She saw the two of you together, she saw the forced smile you gave him in the rare moments he’d hold your hand, kiss your cheek, and be a semi-decent partner. It’s what confused her the most about this situation. It also, unfortunately, gave her this false sense of hope that maybe you didn’t feel the way you said you felt. 

But then again, why did you fall apart every time he left? Why did you run back into his arms every time he came back? JJ found herself laying awake in bed at night way too often, just mulling over these questions for hours. She didn’t get her answer, but this time… This time was the last straw. 

She knew what was going on within seconds of seeing your face. It was the way your eyes were just slightly puffy and how you’d let out a small sigh before throwing on a forced smile. To your credit, you were really good at selling that smile, but JJ just knew. You walked around the office, your eyes never really focusing on any one thing. Your mind was obviously elsewhere than whatever task was at hand. The team didn’t seem to pay much mind, too busy closing up a case, while you did your own duties alone in your little corner of the BAU. JJ knew exactly what all of this meant and she felt herself get angry this time. It was a new feeling for her; a break in the routine. She usually was just concerned for you and angry at him, but this time it was just the whole situation. 

So, when she got you alone in her office, the back and forth was a little different. It started out the same, though. You did that avoidance thing. The thing where you gave her a pained smile and swore up and down you were fine, while she pursed her lips and crossed her arms. JJ wasn’t buying it at all. She never did.

“Really,” you sighed, “I don’t want to get into it.” 

“Of course you don’t.” JJ rolled her eyes and your own widened. She had never been even remotely snappy with you. “Because it's probably the same shit it always is. God,” she scoffed, “Why do you let him jerk you around like this?” 

You stood there, your eyes filled with disbelief, and you both just stared. If JJ were being honest, she wasn’t proud of that. She was a little shocked all of it came out of her mouth and even more shocked at how harsh her tone was. 

“You don’t get it.” Your tone wasn’t exactly harsh like JJ’s, but she could tell she struck a nerve. 

“What’s there to get?” JJ threw her hands up, obviously letting her frustration boil over. She got this far, might as well keep pushing. Did JJ think it was a good idea? No, maybe not, but she wanted you to finally get a grip on the reality of this relationship. It was clearly not good for you. “He’s not reliable. He doesn't consider your feelings. He clearly hurts you every single time he goes off and fucks up. And god, he has fucked up so often.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Your tone was a warning. “You don’t know everything.” 

“What then?” JJ knew she was pressing. She knew she was pissing you off, but frankly she didn’t care. She couldn’t watch you fall apart again only to go back to the very person who kept mistreating you. She couldn’t handle you choosing him again instead of her. “Jesus, what is his hold on you? Why do you let him treat you like shit? You run back to him every damn time too! It’s— fuck, it’s ridiculous! Why don’t you have more self worth when it comes to him?” 

You definitely did not look pleased right now. Your face was twisted into a tight lipped frown and JJ didn’t think she’s ever seen you look at her like that. Her eyes flicked down to your hands and saw the way they were balled into fists, before looking back up, finally into your eyes. That’s when the anger fled her body and was immediately placed with crushing guilt. Your face told her you were pissed, but your eyes… Always those god damn eyes of yours. They were so expressive and JJ could read them better than anyone. She saw, hidden behind this anger, the pain and, to her confusion, the fear. 

An uncomfortable tension filled the room and finally you took a slow, deep breath. Your eyes closed for a minute and JJ noticed the way your hands squeezed for a second before you relaxed them. When your eyes reopened and met hers, she realized you were trying to calm yourself down. It was like you had that routine down, like it was a factory reset of your own emotions, and she wondered how often you had to do that. Her gut twisted when she realized you needed to because of her. 

“I said I was fine,” you said in the most monotone voice. “So, if you don’t need anything else, I have files I need to get back to.” 

JJ’s jaw clenched as she realized that you, for the first time, were shutting down in front of her— because of her. She gave a short nod and turned her eyes to the floor as you walked right out of her office. 

Fuck, she thought. JJ had fucked up with you. She pushed when you warned her not to and now she has some apologizing to do. Then again, she still was curious about the look in your eyes. What exactly weren’t you telling her? You said she didn’t know everything, so what else was there? Something told JJ whatever it was would just make her even more angry about this whole situation. 

———————————-

This might look bad. That’s what JJ was worried about as she stood in front of your door with a bag full of takeout boxes of your favorite foods. It might look like she was pushing, and she absolutely was. That was her goal anyways. She needed to know whatever it was you weren’t telling her. 

It took a couple of minutes of pacing in front of your door before she finally took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and knocked. Her grip tightened on the bag of food, and she took a few more slow breathes as she waited for you to answer.

Thank god you lived alone. For whatever reason the two of you had never moved in together and as far as she knew, you had no intentions of doing that. That was something at least. That you understood a little that if he treated you so badly when you spent time together, living with him 24/7 would make your situation even worse. 

JJ’s foot tapped on the ground as she waited outside your apartment. She couldn’t hear if you were coming to the door or not, but she knew you were home. When you finally did rip the door open, there was absolutely no surprise in your eyes when you saw that it was her on the other side. Was she really that predictable? JJ fully understood that to everyone else who knew about her feelings for you, it looked like she was some lovesick puppy, following you around until you finally opened your eyes. The fact that you weren’t surprised she was standing at your door stung a little. 

“I came bearing gifts.” JJ held up the bag of food. “And to apologize. Can I come in?”

You didn’t reply, but you didn’t have to. All you did was step out of the way so she could enter and she knew all was forgiven. 

JJ knew your apartment well at this point. There were too many nights she spent just sitting next to you in your living room, sleeping next to you on your bed, taking in everything about your space that felt very you. Of course, all of this time she spent there with you, you were none the wiser about the fact that it made her heart go crazy. How could you know that sharing a bed made her ache to reach out for you? Or know that spending so much time in your personal space felt almost like a domestic bliss JJ so badly wanted to share with you? You had no idea and it tugged at her heart in the most uncomfortable way each time. 

She knew your apartment so well that, as she walked into the kitchen, she didn’t even wait for you to get anything. JJ already started rummaging through your cabinets for plates and your drawers for silverware, knowing exactly where to find them. You just stood back and watched as JJ plated the food, never saying a word. Not a lot of things unsettled JJ, but your silence was always one of them. When you were silent, it meant you were really hurting or stressed. She could imagine, right now you might be feeling both or— she thought back to that look of fear in your eyes— perhaps it meant something worse? Was your mind preoccupied with something scaring you? 

“So…” JJ broke the silence herself, handing you the plate as she spoke. “I stopped by that place you like on 4th street.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking the plate and turning to go to your couch. She followed after you. You owned a dining table. Granted, it was small, but plenty of room for you two and all the food JJ over-ordered. But JJ liked to think you chose to sit on the couch and eat there because of how close you two could be. Hopeful thinking again, she realized that, but damn… she had it bad. 

“Listen,” JJ started as she sat down next to you. “I’m sorry about my outburst today.” She paused for a moment, reading your face. Your expression was neutral, but she knew you were listening and receptive. You were always so kind, too kind for your boyfriend, so she wasn’t worried you would be angry for long. “I just hate seeing when you hurt. And I worry that you’re not okay… That something is really bothering you.”

“I’m fine,” you said in a very unconvincing tone as you absentmindedly pushed your food around on the plate. 

“You say that but…” JJ trailed off and didn’t continue that thought when she saw the warning glance you gave her. She dropped it for a moment, but she was going to bring it back up. Just not yet. 

As you both ate, conversation turned to unimportant things. It was obvious that you were both avoiding the pressing subject— your shitty boyfriend. Or maybe ex-boyfriend if JJ was lucky this time. When you two were done JJ took both your plates without waiting for you to get up and made her way to the kitchen. She was entirely too aware of the way your eyes stayed glued to her as she washed the dishes, dried them, and put them back in their rightful place.

You would do that sometimes. Just stare at her when you thought she wasn’t looking or wasn’t aware. But she always knew. JJ was always aware of you, even if you weren’t aware of her. It was like she had finely tuned herself to notice every little thing about you, whether she meant to or not. She just had to be and at first she didn’t understand why. Then, when she realized it was because she was in love with you, it all made sense. It was blatantly obvious that the man you kept running back to wasn’t taking care of you in the slightest, so JJ did it instead. Deep down, she hoped you would notice; hoped you would understand that she would treat you better than he ever would. But it’s been a year of her pining and your constant heartbreak and still things between you and JJ haven’t changed. 

When she was done with everything she sat down next to you again and, to her relief, you scooted closer. Her eyes studied you and she wondered if now was the time to press again. However, this time she was going to be more gentle. 

“Listen,” she started. “I know it’s a touchy subject, but I really want to talk about-”

“Can we just not please?” Your eyes left hers and she watched the way your body shifted uncomfortably on the couch. At least you didn’t scoot away from her. That was one small relief for JJ. 

“I think we need to.” JJ was trying to keep her tone as gentle as possible this time. Patience, she must have patience with you. Clearly, there were some details she was unaware of. You hinted at as much, anyway. “I just don’t understand why this keeps happening. You do know you deserve far better than him right? That you don’t deserve all the pain he puts you through.”

You nodded slowly, your shoulders slumping as your eyes fell to your fidgeting hands. It was absolutely clear in that moment, to JJ, that you did know you deserved better. A spark of irritation filled her chest, but she tried to take a couple of deep breaths. She didn’t know the full story, she was trying to convince herself that maybe what you said next would be a good reason for why you still stayed.

“It’s complicated, JJ,” you breathed a shaky sigh. “I know he treats me like crap, but there’s a reason I stay. He takes care of me…” 

“Are you sure about that?” JJ’s jaw clenched as she thought of all the times he’d fuck up. “Because it looks like he could care less about your feelings or your wellbeing for that matter.”

“No.”  You shook your head hard. “No, not in that way. It’s…” Your eyes closed tightly and you took another deep breath. It was at that moment that something clicked for JJ. It was a face you made every once in a while when you brought your boyfriend around and he said something stupid. It was a look of shame that had washed over you and whatever irritation JJ had felt a moment ago was replaced with a feeling of worry. “It’s that with him around I feel… protected, I guess.”

“Protected?” JJ’s brows furrowed as she tried to understand. You worked at the BAU, so of course you saw some scary stuff. You weren’t one of the members who would go out in the field, sure, which meant you didn’t have all the training of an agent, but you had the basics. She didn’t think even for a second you’d be afraid of anything coming back on you from the job. It wasn’t like your face was even known to anyone involved in any one of the cases. 

“Not– It’s not from the job,” you quickly corrected, reading exactly where JJ’s confusion was coming from. “I had this boyfriend back in undergrad. Things didn’t exactly end the way he wanted it to.”

JJ felt like her stomach was dropping as she watched you fidget even more. She knew, whatever you were about to say would tie everything together for her, but it still made her feel sick. The idea of you being scared of anyone made her feel unimaginably uncomfortable for you. 

“Ever since, he’s just kind of been around,” you shut your eyes tight for a moment before continuing. “I could move and then, somehow, I’d just bump into him. He would always be there when I met someone new. He just– He hovers. He’s never hurt me, but then again I don’t ever want to let my guard down.” 

“So with your boyfriend then…?” She was still trying to put the pieces together of where your current boyfriend fit in. It didn’t quite make sense that you would leave one shitty guy and then find another.

“My boyfriend scares him. It wasn’t always bad between us, not at the very beginning. He was protective and I felt safe. There was this one time when he caught on that we were being followed– He made this big show of how protective he was. Ever since then, I’ve felt a little less like I need to keep looking over my shoulder.” 

JJ was nodding patiently as you explained. Suddenly, she understood just about everything. It wasn’t that you were so heartbroken that he was treating you so badly, that he would cheat on you, that he would disregard your feelings, it was that he provided something important for you. Something that helped you just exist without having to be terrified all the time. It made sense now to JJ. She knew how important it was to feel safe, to feel protected. It broke her heart that you thought you needed to put up with poor treatment just to be safe. Didn’t you know she could protect you so much better than your boyfriend ever could?

“Why are you just telling me this now?” JJ’s voice was gentle, barely a whisper. She felt like if she were to push anymore you’d break in front of her. 

“I don’t know, I was ashamed. Maybe? But I know you’re tired of seeing me go through the same routine with him. He always does this thing where he’ll run off with someone else and I’ll be scared, but it’s not– I’m not scared of losing him, just of being alone. I was so tired of looking over my shoulder, but when he showed up it was better… He always comes back though. Always.” 

It was like you were trying to convince yourself of that fact. The way you gulped right after you said that, your eyes looking anywhere but at JJ. You knew she could read you, that she could tell when you had doubts or were lying. JJ wondered if you really thought he would come back this time? She knew it might be selfish, after all the things you just told her, but she hoped he never would come back. If he made a show of protecting you to your stalker, then she could make a better one if she needed to.

“And if he doesn’t?” JJ knew this question was going to be a hard one for you to answer, but she needed you to see that he wasn’t the answer to your problem.

“He will.” You said that almost as if it were a bad thing. Or maybe JJ was reading into it.

“You don’t need him to,” JJ urged. Okay, so now maybe she was being a bit more selfish, but she also wanted you to know that even if he didn’t come back you’d be safe. JJ would protect you with her life, she thought you understood that already. Even if you didn’t know what feelings she had for you exactly, she thought you knew how important you were to her in general. “You don’t need his protection.”

You let out a bitter chuckle at that and rolled your eyes. “Yeah, okay,” you snorted. “JJ, I’m not a field agent like you. It’s not that easy for me to protect myself when I’ve only got the bare basics of self-defense down. By the time I have more skill in that, my ex will have already made an appearance or worse.”

“That’s not what I meant.” JJ was trying to give you the most determined look she could give you and you looked back at her, clearly confused. 

Realization dawned on you as you understood what she was implying. “I can’t expect you to always be there.”

“I would.” She didn’t miss a beat. Her tone was almost pleading. “I’d protect you and– I don’t know, I can teach you to protect yourself in the meantime. Just–” She was getting desperate as she watched the way you shook your head in protest with every word she said. “Please, just let me. Please.” 

“JJ, shh,” you cooed, your arms suddenly coming up to pull her into an embrace. For a moment, JJ felt pathetic. It was her job right now to console you, but here you were holding her and trying to calm her. She didn’t realize how upset she was about this whole situation. She hated that you were allowing yourself to be mistreated just so you could have some sense of protection from another bad relationship of your past. She hated that you felt scared at all, she never wanted you to feel that way. More than anything, she hated that you didn’t think she would protect you, that you even needed your horrible boyfriend in the first place, when she was right here practically screaming choose me, pick me! 

“I’ll be okay,” you murmured, your hand running up and down her back in a way to comfort her. Only, instead it made her heart race. Her arms wrapped around you now, holding you close for a moment. “You don’t need to take this on, okay? I can handle this.”

It wasn’t like that for JJ. It wasn’t a burden for her to take on, it was something she’d do for the rest of her life happily if you let her. It was something that she already was doing, even if you weren’t aware of it. Whether you felt the same as her or not, she would protect you with her life for as long as you would have her around. She had to make you understand that.

So she pulled back a little from the embrace. “It doesn’t have to be like this,” she whispered as her eyes searched yours. You looked back at her with a soft, wistful gaze, but you let her continue. “Let me be here for you instead…” She trailed off and started to lean in. It was now or never, and her eyes closed just as yours widened. But still, you didn’t move, you didn’t pull away, clearly knowing exactly what JJ’s intentions were. Instead, you held perfectly still until finally, for the first time, JJ’s lips met yours.

The kiss was gentle and earth shattering all at the same time. JJ was scared you’d pull away, but you didn’t. Instead, your lips parted for a brief moment, a slow exhale fell from your lips onto hers and she shuttered. She expected you to pull back, but instead you waited and she kissed you again. When she kissed you this time, you instantly melted into her. It was like every nerve ending in JJ had finally woken up. The moment she had waited for so long was happening and it was better than she ever imagined it to be. 

Her hands tightened around your waist and the small sound you let out, as you were pressed closer to her chest, made her heart skip a beat. Your hands were holding onto her for dear life. She could feel a slight tremble from your body, but when she thought she should pull away, you kissed her harder. 

One of JJ’s hands left your waist, only to reach up and cup your cheek. You had never been kissed so lovingly, so deeply in your entire life. JJ, on her part, was trying to pour every ounce of love she’s ever had for you into the way she was kissing you. It was intoxicating for both of you. For a moment, everything melted away. There was no tension between you two, there was no shitty boyfriend that JJ was desperate to get you away from, there were no unspoken feelings that plagued JJ’s mind every waking minute. There was only you and her and this moment. A moment that meant everything to JJ. 

But it was fleeting. Maybe JJ had pushed it a little too much. One second she was brushing her tongue lightly along your bottom lip, a small gasp escaping from you as she did. The next, you were pushing her back and she was blinking at you in confusion over the abrupt change. 

“What are you doing?” You said breathlessly. Your eyes were shining and JJ realized they were rimmed with tears that had yet to fall. JJ was kicking herself. Obviously, she had rushed this way too much. 

“I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have–” 

“I don’t need you to do this, JJ,” you interrupted. “You don’t have to. Just because I’m scared of being alone doesn’t mean– you don’t have to make this sacrifice just so I can feel safe.”

“What?” JJ was trying as hard as she could to understand what you meant. Sacrifice what? Her own safety? Surely, that couldn’t be what you meant. JJ’s own job put her safety at risk constantly, so you had to understand that she wasn’t worried about that when it came to being with you. She would be safe and she’d keep you safe, it wasn’t a problem. So what were you talking about?

“I don’t want you to think you have to be with me in order to fix all my problems. That’s not fair to you. Or to us.” You were squeezing your eyes shut so tight as you spoke and JJ realized the hands still pressed to her shoulders were trembling even harder now. 

“I don’t think that,” JJ put her hands over yours, trying to calm you. She was starting to understand now and her heart ached for you yet again. Of course, you’re so used to being treated badly that you didn’t even realize how genuine JJ was trying to be. “Just…” she let go of one of your hands to brush away a tear that had fallen down your cheek, “be with me instead.”

“Oh.” That was all you said. Things were clicking for you now too. The word instead rang through your ears and suddenly it all made sense. “Oh,” you repeated, this time with more shock in your voice. JJ was putting it all out there for you now and nerves were getting the best of her. But what would it look like if she backed out now? If she couldn’t handle the fear of being vulnerable in front of you, how could she show you that she could protect you from the things you feared most? 

“JJ,” your voice was barely above a whisper, “Have you always had feelings for me?”

She swallowed hard. It was a question she knew was coming, but still, that didn’t make this moment any easier. If she was going to put herself out there, then she might as well bare it all. Yet, words escaped her. Her heart pounded in her chest so loud, she could hear its beat ringing through her ears. All she could manage was a nod. 

You sat back a little and it looked like you got the wind kicked out of you. It was very clear to JJ now that you really had absolutely no clue about how she felt. In all fairness, that wasn’t a surprise for JJ. She was probably a little too good at keeping a poker face around you, even if she didn’t mean to. Although, with you, for so long she was terrified of you finding her out and losing you all together. She warred with herself for so long on telling you about her feelings, but the idea of ruining your friendship and losing you forever felt worse than never having you in the way that she wanted. But here it all was, out in the open. 

“For how long?” Your question wasn’t harsh, just genuinely confused. 

“I don’t know,” JJ admitted. “Maybe they’ve always been here. It took me a while to realize it, but then you…” She didn’t need to continue for you to understand. There was always your boyfriend, so JJ thought there was never a good time. It was your turn for your heart to break for her. All the instances where you’d question her actions, her looks that she shot your way, all of it hit you. The realization was shocking in some ways, but made complete sense in others. And, for the first time, you realized just how much it pained her to watch you stay with someone who treated you with very little disregard. You thought back now to all the times you had run back into his arms and all the times she was just forced to watch. The hurt that must’ve caused her, you couldn’t even begin to imagine. 

“I had no idea,” you mumbled. But then again, maybe you did? In the entire time you knew her, she had one relationship. It was a relationship she was already in when the two of you met, and it lasted maybe three or four months after you’d gotten to know each other. When it ended, JJ didn’t say much about why, just that it was for the best. Now you understood; it was because of you. “Or… I think I didn’t. I– I don’t really know either.”

JJ’s eyes stayed on you. She could tell you were going in circles in your own mind, trying to better understand this new development. Guilt was washing over her as she realized she’d put something complicated onto you, on top of all the other complicated factors you had just told her you were juggling. The kiss was a mistake. JJ knew the timing was horrible, but would she take it back? Absolutely not. Not even when you were looking at her in a way that told her she was about to get her heart ripped out. Her whole body tensed as she waited for the rejection she thought was coming, but still you just… sat there and stared. 

You kept opening your mouth for a second, seeming like you had something to say, but then backing out a moment later. JJ knew whatever you were going to say wasn’t going to be easy for either of you, but she also knew you definitely had something you wanted to get out. She didn’t say anything in response to you, she just kept waiting for you to resume talking. Part of her hoped that whatever you said, it would be a good thing. Another part of her, a bigger part, worried that you were struggling so much because you were trying to tell her she made you uncomfortable and you didn’t quite know how to best reject her. Little did you know, it didn’t matter how hard you were going to reject her. JJ was going to stay by your side. Now more than ever, she understood how important that was for you. 

Still, the silence was getting deafening for JJ. You stopped trying to talk and just looked down at your lap. JJ was about to finally break it when you did eventually decide to look back up at her.

“I think,” you began, “Maybe, I need a little time to wrap my head around this.”

JJ nodded hard, her heart thudding in her chest. It wasn’t what she expected you to say. It wasn’t even necessarily a good thing, but it wasn’t a rejection. She’d settle for that. “Of course,” she rapidly replied. “I know, it’s a lot. Today was a lot.” She stood up for a moment, anxiously looking around the room, trying to figure out her next move. “I’ll– I can give you space for the night. I should– Yeah, I should go.”

When your shining eyes looked up at her, it was like JJ’s world stood still. You had such sadness in them, such exhaustion. It was hard for her to see when she knew she caused even the smallest portion of it. You didn’t deserve everything you were dealing with. And to deal with it in silence for so long? It crushed her that you were just telling her all of this now.  

You didn’t say anything for a moment as you stared up at her. Your head nodded the slightest bit, but JJ saw it. “Just for tonight,” you said in the smallest voice. JJ gave you a pained smile, one that she hoped would read to you that she understood completely. 

JJ did as she said and found herself back home in her empty apartment before she could even realize how she managed to get there. The minute she stepped out of your place, all throughout the drive, and even as she laid in bed there was only one thing on her mind. Would things be different if she had known sooner?

She fell asleep with what if scenarios running through her head. Ideas of the two of you being happy somewhere far away from anything you feared. Far away from the shitty boyfriend you thought you had to be stuck with. 

———————————-

JJ wanted to give you all the space she could possibly give you, but it wasn’t that easy. Now that she knew what she knew, it was hard for her to take her eyes off you for even a second. Not that it wasn’t already hard for her to do so without the information she now had, but now there was an extra layer to it. She felt more protective than ever, but she also knew you needed some space from her to process. So, she was constantly internally debating with herself.

You had told her you wanted space just for the night, but then you didn’t really talk to her the next day or the next or even the rest of the week after that. She kept her eye on you still, even if your eyes would never meet hers or you’d shift and squirm when she was near. It was killing her inside. A lot sooner than was probably healthy, a horrible thought popped into JJ’s head that had her spiraling. What if she had messed everything up? What if she ruined her friendship with you because she brought up her feelings?

The kiss kept replaying in JJ’s mind though, and she swore up and down that you kissed her back that night. Yes, you were the one to pull away, but before then, it felt like everything JJ was trying to give, you wanted to reciprocate. Maybe that was just all in JJ’s head, but she really didn’t think so. Then again, maybe she shouldn’t have kissed you at all. Maybe in her mind, everything seemed so different than it actually was. She just kept going on and on spiraling further into this thought process with each passing minute that she hadn’t heard from you.

Finally, after over a week of work, JJ had a day off coming up. Nothing had changed between you and her, you were still very much avoiding her. It was exhausting JJ, how worried she was about your wellbeing, how worried she was about the state of your friendship with her, how  worried in general she was about all of it. JJ didn’t even have a minute to really sit down and take in the fact that it was also hurting her, knowing that she was probably rejected by you and her wishful thinking was just that– wishful thinking. But now she has a day off. A day to process. JJ didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing for her. For one, she got space away from seeing how uncomfortable you were, but then she couldn’t keep an eye on you to make sure you were safe. On the other hand, she could actually sit and think about how she was feeling and how to approach the silence you were giving her. However, she knew the minute she really started to think about it her heart would ache. JJ liked to think she was strong, but even she had her limits. 

So how did she spend her day off then? By wallowing in her apartment and nursing her expected heartbreak ahead of time. At one point she did get dressed to go work out, but she never made it out of her apartment. She just stayed in her clean gym clothes and sat back on the couch, the idea of possibly running into you in the gym (even if she knew you’d probably be busy elsewhere) was too much of a risk. 

When evening came and she finished checking her texts, missed calls, emails, and everything else you might message her on, she decided maybe she should get food. Before she even decided what she wanted to get delivered— there was still no way she was leaving her apartment at this point —she heard a knock on her door. Her eyebrows furrowed, there was no package she was expecting, no conversation with anyone else about coming over, nothing that warranted this knock. 

With an exasperated sigh, she hoisted herself off the couch to go see who it was. It hadn’t been that long since the first knock that she heard another, more frantic tapping at her door. She huffed again, frustrated that whoever was on the other end was both impatient and interrupted her night of self loathing. A third knock came and she was getting a little pissed at this point.

Usually, being an agent at the BAU, she has a strict habit of checking the peephole before swinging a door open to an unexpected guest. But JJ hadn’t really been thinking clearly lately, so why start now when she could tell off the irritating person on the other side? Except, when she swung open the door she utterly froze.

She didn’t expect you to show up tonight, not when you had been actively avoiding her for days. Not to mention, you had never really needed to knock on her door. You had a key and both of you had a habit of just waltzing into each other’s places. So, you were definitely her last guess for who was waiting on the other side.

When JJ’s shocked eyes fell on you, you looked back up at her with the look of a deer caught in the headlights. JJ’s first reaction was to ask you why you seemed so scared if you were the one avoiding her for days and then showing up at her doorstep, but she held her tongue.

“Listen, okay here’s the thing…” you started suddenly. “I thought about the night, about what happened. Okay— so I took longer than I said and I’m sorry about that, but I have a good reason. I think, maybe.” You were rambling. JJ’s eyes were still filled with shock but she still had the sense to step out of the way when you pushed yourself into her apartment. “It’s just that,” you kept talking as you let yourself in, “this isn’t just something you do quickly, you know? I was with him for a while, and you and I… I’ve never connected with someone on the level I have with you. So if there was ever an inkling that I might lose our connection, even if it’s the smallest chance—“

“(Y/N), you would never lose me.” JJ had the sense to butt in with that, but your hand came up immediately after to signal her to stop whatever explanation she was ready to give you. 

“Even then… The idea is terrifying,” you looked back at her with pleading eyes. Her heart sank as she began to realize where this conversation might be going. You were still pacing and she so desperately wanted to stop you and tell you not to worry about it. You didn’t have to say them to her tonight. She didn’t know if she could manage to hear the words you might say, but she didn’t dare move from the doorway. 

“This isn’t coming out how I planned.” You pressed your hands to your eyes for a second and took a deep breath. “But…” you dropped your hands and gave JJ an intense look. “Then I thought about that night and all the other nights I’ve spent with you and I thought about… that kiss.” You both gulped as you said the word. “It was,” you paused, struggling to find the right words. “It was eye opening. It made me realize something…”

JJ was holding her breath. She really wasn’t sure where this conversation was going, but she really was internally begging for you to rip off the bandage.��

You took a deep breath and tried to center yourself for what you wanted to say next. JJ was on edge where she stood, trying not to let you see the way her hands trembled as she waited.

“JJ, I want to be with you.” The words were out there and JJ’s eyes widened the second she took that in.

“What?” It wasn’t that JJ didn’t hear you, it was that she was in a state of mild shock.

“I have feelings for you too. I think I’ve always known how you felt, how I felt even. I just wasn’t sure how to face it…” Your eyes fell to the floor, suddenly feeling more vulnerable than you perhaps ever had been. “But then when you left that night it was all so clear to me.” 

JJ took a few steps towards you, her heart beating like a jackhammer in her chest. “Then why did you ignore me for days?”

“I wasn’t trying to.” You looked back up at her with apologetic eyes. “I said I wanted to do things right and I do. So, I wanted to make sure I put a permanent end to my relationship. All his stuff needed to be out, I needed to tell him that— You know, that this was really it. Which I did, last night. And then it took me all day to figure out what to say to you.” You let out a soft laugh and shook your head. “I had this whole script planned out. I didn’t use any of it. This has to be the messiest way to tell someone you want to be with them.” 

Finally, JJ’s face shifted from shock to a soft smile. She took another step and then another until she was right in front of you. “I think it still worked out well.” 

You took a step towards her and whispered, “yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded before reaching for your waist. She leaned in and her lips pressed against yours for the first time since that night. And just like that first time, you melted into it. 

———————————-

When you made up your mind to finally tell her that you wanted to be with her, you had also told yourself that you would do things right, take things slow. However, when your back hit her mattress and you looked down at the foot of the bed to see JJ crawling up your body… Well, that ship had long sailed. Even JJ had a similar thought when you finally admitted that you wanted to be with her, but that idea quickly went out the window the minute she felt your whole body press into hers as she kissed you. Her resolve only broke further the more the two of you pulled at each other’s clothes as you made it to her bedroom.

There was still a part of both of your minds that told you two that maybe things should slow down, but then when you looked at her, pupils blown, a slight blush across your face, that idea left her mind entirely. And when she looked back at you, nothing but adoration in her eyes as her hands ran up and down your half-naked body, any worry about going too fast was erased from yours too. This was JJ after all. It wasn’t like you didn’t know her. You did, you truly knew her. Perhaps deeper than most people can know one another. 

So there you both were. JJ was hovering over your body at this point and you couldn’t stop yourself from taking in the beautiful tone of her bare stomach as she waited above you in nothing but a sports bra. Without even thinking, your hands made their way to her stomach and your nails, ever so softly, raked down her skin. You watched in awe as JJ shivered and her eyes filled with lust; a look entirely new for you to see. 

JJ cupped your chin and dipped her head down. The way she kissed you, slow and deep, had your chest heaving and your heart racing. Your nails dragged across her stomach until they reached around her back and you pressed her down. Now her barely clothed form was pressed against your matching half naked body. Her hand didn’t leave your chin as her tongue traced around your own. You, for the most part, could only grip at her closer as you continued to kiss her. All of these feelings, of her pressed against you, the way she kissed  and touched you, everything was just overwhelming your senses in the best way. Finally, when you felt JJ’s other hand start to brush down your stomach until she pressed the palm of her hand to your bare thigh, did you start to ground yourself in the feeling of her touch. Her fingers gently traced circles on your inner thigh as she kept kissing you, with each passing second getting closer and closer to where you wanted her most. 

JJ pulled back just a little, her lips still barely ghosting over yours. Her fingers were playing with the edge of your panties and you realized she was trying to get your consent. Your heart swelled for the care she was giving you. It was something that might just be considered the bare minimum, but when JJ did it, it showed just how much she respected and felt for you. All of this felt new to you tonight, not just the fact that you were about to be with JJ for the first time in a way that you had never expected before, but everything else about the encounter. Never had you felt someone cherish you as much as she did and that feeling intensified with each little touch.

You gave her a small nod, your arms moving up her back to wrap around her neck and pull her lips back down to meet yours. As you resumed the kiss, you let a small gasp out against her lips the moment you felt her fingertips dip into your panties and brush against your clit.

Her fingers stroked slowly across it once and then twice and you couldn’t stop the small sounds that escaped from you. JJ wanted to take this slow, to soak in every single sound you made and how good you felt, but it wasn’t easy. Part of her wanted to just let go of everything, to let go of the long time she spent bottling things up, but she knew you needed to feel the love and adoration she had for you before she could dive in and finally indulge in what she’s wanted for so long. 

Her fingers started to trace small circles around your clit and her lips left yours to kiss across your jaw. Your eyes were screwed shut again and your hips were moving ever so slightly with the way her fingers were working on your clit. JJ’s eyes were fixated on the way your face looked, flushed and twisted in the pleasure she was giving you. Your lips parted slightly to let out a small whimper and that was when JJ knew she needed to pick up the pace. Her fingers pressed more firmly on your clit and the way they moved against it sped up. Your hips kept moving in time with her hand, trying to get more friction. JJ’s other hand went to your breast, pushing your bra up so that she could have access to your nipples. Her fingers traced around each one as her lips made their way down your neck. Neither of you seemed to notice or care that the way she started nipping and kissing at the skin there was surely going to leave visible marks. 

The feelings she was building up in you was starting to become too much, but you still wanted more. The way she focused on your clit felt amazing, but you wanted to feel her– to really have her. Without hesitation, one of your hands untangled itself from around JJ to reach down and grab her wrist. Both of you were shocked by the bold move, but neither of you minded, when you pushed her hand down further into your panties. JJ knew exactly what you wanted and let her fingers circle your entrance. 

You took a few deep breaths, your hand leaving her wrist to go back to pressing her body closer to yours. JJ’s lips moved down to your chest and the moment you felt her fingers start to push into you, you also felt her take one of your nipples into her mouth.

“Oh!” You did not mean to gasp as loudly as you did, but after that gasp came a moan as you felt JJ’s two fingers sink deeper into you before pulling out almost completely and pushing back in. She wasn’t going fast, but she wasn’t necessarily going slow either. The angle was a little awkward with your lower half still partially clothed, but you desperately wanted her to keep going. Eventually, your legs fell open wider to give her more space and your arms left JJ again only for a moment to frustratingly pull your panties down and kick them off. With those off, and JJ’s fingers back inside you, your head rolled back again. You couldn’t stop the constant, desperate moans and gasps that left your lips. 

JJ, in the meantime, had been busy switching between your breasts, marking up each of them and running her tongue across both nipples. When she started to feel your legs shake, she knew she needed to speed up. Her lips moved back to your neck, kissing over the marks she had left behind previously. Her fingers curled and your nails pressed into her skin. The sting of it didn’t even bother her, she was too lost in this moment with you. You were practically crying out her name with each pump of her fingers inside you. She wasn’t aware of much else other than the way you felt around her fingers. 

“I love you.” Her voice was muffled into your neck, barely above a whisper. “I love you…” she breathed again, her fingers pumping faster inside you while your nails dug harder into her back.

It took a moment for those words to sink in. Words you didn’t expect to hear so soon. Especially not now, not during your first night together like this. But they were out there, whether JJ meant for you to hear or not. 

Your body tensed for just a moment, even if you didn’t mean to. You had hoped JJ wouldn’t notice, but like always she did. Her head pulled back, her fingers slowed to a stop but never pulled out. Immediately when she met your eyes hers filled with panic. Probably because you looked back up at her with shock.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean for–” She started to pull away. “I know this isn’t the best time to say–”

Your hands clenched harder onto her back, trying your best to get her to stop pulling away from you. “I love you too,” you whispered. It wasn’t something you expected to say, but suddenly as you looked up at her, you realized it was the truest feeling you’ve ever had. 

Her eyes searched yours for a moment. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” You nodded hard, your hand pressed to the nape of her neck to encourage her to lean down and kiss you once again. As she did, her fingers resumed from the pace that they had left off. 

One of JJ’s hands came down to your thigh, grabbing it to hook across her waist. Her fingers hit just the right spot deep inside you and you broke the kiss to moan out a breathy, “I love you.” JJ’s pace sped up even more and that was all it seemed like you knew how to say. You kept saying it until finally, finally you came hard on her fingers.

JJ slowed her pace, letting you ride out your orgasm until you finally took a deep breath. Your eyes stayed closed and JJ, ever so slowly, pulled her fingers out of you.

“Wow,” you panted. 

“Yeah,” JJ let out a breathless chuckle. “Wow.” Her hands came up to cup your face again and you pressed a kiss to her palm. 

“I do really love you,” you whispered. “I don’t know how it took me this long to see that…”

She shook her head before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We’re here now and that’s what matters.”

Your arms pulled JJ tighter into you and you knew she was right. Despite how long it took you to put up with the bad treatment and accept the fact that she was there this whole time, you two were here now. Together and in love. This was just the beginning of it, and you knew that not only were you finally able to feel truly safe, but that feeling would never go. As long as you had JJ, you felt no fear.

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[starry-eyesanddaydreams]

NSFW Alphabet - Hans Gruber

And we’re back with the filth, Hans Gruber edition 😉 What delights do Hans and his partner in crime get up to?

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Brings you a drink and gives you a massage. Whispers sweet nothings to you in English and German as you fall asleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His shoulders. He's got a strong build, and it makes those fancy suits he likes look very good.

Your hands. Whether you're touching him, a weapon, a computer keyboard, your hands hold his attention and drives him crazy.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Inside you. He loves to feel you tighten around his cock, taking all of him.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He doesn’t really have any dirty secrets. You know all his most filthy desires and have done most of them.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s decently experienced. Enough to know what he likes and how to please you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes having you spread out on a desk or table, your legs around his waist and his feet on the ground so he can thrust nice and hard into you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’ll laugh darkly at the way you get when you’re desperate from being edged or completely cock-drunk.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Well groomed and neat is his style.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He can actually be very romantic with you. His favourite term of endearment for you is Schatzi, whispered in your ear or against your lips. You are his treasure, his jewel, and he makes sure you know it.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

While you watch. He’ll stroke himself while you strip, a slow tease for both of you. Sometimes you’ll watch him finish, sometimes you can’t resist and end up knelt between his legs finishing the job for him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Edging. He loves bringing you to the brink over and over. Prolonging the sensation before finally making you see stars. Impact play. A little pain to heighten the pleasure, like smacking your ass as you ride his thigh.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

Anywhere really. He’ll prefer somewhere where with some luxury like a fancy hotel room, but he’ll take you against the wall of a parking garage if the mood strikes.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you square up against someone, verbally or physically. To Hans, it's a thing of beauty to watch you skilfully hand someone their ass and it drives him wild. And on the flip side of that, when you're submissive and vulnerable to him. He is the only person in the world you would be like that with and that mix of trust, love and sensuality really turns him on.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Not much is off the table with him. He won’t do public sex thought. He is possessive and won’t have anyone else see you like that.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He enjoys giving just as much as receiving and is very skilled.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Rough and sensual.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Happens a fair amount. He’s such a composed, in control man, you like teasing him till he snaps and takes you hard and fast wherever you are.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He likes to experiment when something intrigues either of you. You’ve indulged in some gun and knife play, so he’ll take some risks but not push things too far.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

On average, four. Sometimes more. He likes to wear you out and make sure your legs are still weak the next day.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t really have a use for toys. Prefers the satisfaction of using his hands and mouth make you scream.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Definitely a tease. He’ll touch you everywhere except where you need until you beg. He’ll keep your hands pinned down so you can’t touch him. The man’s a menace.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not really loud. More heavy breathing, gasps and growls.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Planning the tower heist together was a massive turn on for both of you. You had desk sex on top of your plans several times.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

A good seven inches and thick.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High but controlled.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes him a little while to fall asleep after. He’ll usually sit half up in bed and finish a cigarette, enjoying the after glow and the feeling of you laying in his arms.

[thehusbandoden]

That's a New Feeling -Dabi x Reader

A/n: honestly I had no idea what to do for the title 😅

General info:

Genre: angst to fluff \\ wc: 1,545 \\ posted: 11/18/2023

Warnings!: arguing, raised voices, saying things they didn't mean (from both parties), a mention of Dabi's past, daddy issues, guilt, crying, and your partner leaving for an extended amount of time. Please let me know if I miss any! <3

"C'mon Doll, you can't still be mad at me." Dabi chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, looking you in your eyes as he trailed his fingers down to your chin, holding it gently.

Huffing, you pull away from his touch. "I can, and I still am."

"Oh come on. It was one tim-"

"Dabi don't you dare lie to me. We both know that it wasn't just 'one time'."

"Okay okay, it may happen frequently. But, you know I'm sorry."

"Do I though? Do I really? Because all I hear from you are excuses."

Dabi sighs, running his hand through his hair. "Now you're just being petty." He murmured, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"Petty? I'm the petty one!?"

"Yes! Yes you are!" "

How! How on earth am I the petty one!?"

"It was a mistake! You shouldn't be so sensitive!" "Now you're changing the subject!?"

"You're the one changing the subject, y/n."

"You're pathetic." You hiss, storming into the kitchen.

"Aww did I hurt your feelings?" Dabi mocked, following you. "You're such a cry baby. Did you know that?

"I was worried about you because I care about you!"

Dabi laughed humorlessly. "Care about me? That's rich."

"Yes! I care about you! Even though I have no idea why! You're a selfish brat who only thinks about himself!"

Dabi's face darkened. He seemed to actually be angry now. "You have no idea what selfish is, y/n."

"Oh I know." You chuckle darkly. "I know what selfish looks like. All you do is complain about how hard your life is, and how easy I have it. You're always whining about how sore your body is, and how broke you are. Complaining about how you need to dye your hair again, and that we're out of your favourite snacks as you sit on your arse, telling me how I should actually 'contribute' to our income."

"Oh? What happened to you caring about me? I'm in pain and you find me selfish? I'm tired after working hard for us, and yet it's not enough? You don't ever do anything, y/n. And I'm the selfish one?"

"You're the one working such a low life job, maybe you should actually be a decent human being and get a normal job." You hiss, causing Dabi to clench his jaw.

"Take that back." He quietly growled, his turquoise eyes cold with anger as he glared at you.

"No, I won't. It's the truth." You were too angry to think rationally as you washed the dishes, not even paying any attention to Dabi's face.

"You know why I don't work a civilian's job." Dabi hissed in your ear, standing over you. "You also know how hard I'm working for your ungrateful arse."

You drop the dishes into the soapy sink, causing bubbles to splash onto both you and Dabi. "I am not lazy. I do all of the cleaning, and all of the cooking. Oh, and stop using your daddy issues as an excuse. Your daddy didn't love you, oh well. Get over it."

Dabi's face fell. He trembled in anger as he gripped onto the counter. "Take. That. Back." He growled, his face dangerously close to yours.

"Never." You hiss, glaring into his eyes. Trembling in rage, Dabi burned a hole in the countertop before storming into your shared bedroom. At the sudden movement, you suddenly snapped into reality. What you said was partly true.. but the way you had said it and the implications were bound to be hurtful and were definitely uncalled for.

Feeling guilty and worried about what would happen next, you rush upstairs. "Listen Dabi I-" you froze as you saw Dabi stuffing clothing into a backpack, his body smoking in certain areas. "Dabi?"

Dabi ignored you, grabbing his phone and his charger. "Dabi, baby please. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it I swear." You grabbed Dabi's arm, guilt tearing at your heart as you saw how badly you hurt your beloved.

Dabi continued to ignore you, his body trembling in rage.

"Listen baby, we were both angry but I should have never brought your past up like that. I'm so sorry.. please don't ignore me baby.."

Dabi glared at you, his lip curling into a snarl. "I thought I could trust you." He spat, before pulling away, storming downstairs.

"W-wait Dabi! You can! I'm so sorry, please just wait a second! You can sleep in our bed, and I'll sleep on the couch! Please don't leave!" You started panicking, following Dabi as he stormed downstairs.

"The one person I trusted, and it blew up in my face. I should have trusted my gut." Dabi hissed, opening the front door. Panicking, you threw yourself onto him.

"Baby please! I'm so so sorry! I shouldn't have brought it up like that! Please just wait!" You exclaim, tears brimming your eyes. You were worried Dabi would leave for good this time.

Dabi shrugged you off, shooting you one last glare before slamming the door closed. Scrambling onto your feet, you were about to pursue him but stopped yourself. That would cause a scene, and that would make it more likely that people would recognize him.

Sighing, you slowly move back to your bedroom, flopping onto the bed. You were still angry with Dabi, that was no doubt. And you believed that most of the things you said were justified, and you weren't really wrong about him being able to be a better person.. but the way you downplayed his past was absolutely not okay, and you were paying the consequence.

Tears fell down your cheek as you thought back to your argument. It started off so little.. and you had blown it out of proportion- with Dabi's help of course. You both did something wrong, but you both were justified in your frustration.

Sighing, you quietly cried into Dabi's pillow as you wondered if you would ever see Dabi in person again.

~

You didn't see Dabi for the rest of the day. Or the rest of the week.. or the next. Several weeks passed by as you worriedly waited for him, guilt eating you alive. You sent him three texts every day, trying to call him at least once. The messages started to build up, and with every unopened text you started to feel less and less hopeful.

It was about two months after the argument. You were texting him yet another apology. You kept it short and sweet, it was only a few sentences but showed your great concern and love.

Babygirl: Goodnight my love, I miss you. I'm really sorry that I was so insensitive. I hope you're doing well.

You expected it to be left unopened, but to your surprise, it changed to 'read' several seconds after you sent it. Hope bubbled in your chest as you stared at your phone, your body cozily tucked into bed.

As the minutes pass by you slowly start to fall asleep, your eyes heavy with exhaustion. Slowly blinking your eyes, the last thing you saw before falling asleep was Dabi's smirking profile picture.

~~

A small tapping sound roused you from your slumber. Blinking your eyes in confusion, you thought you imagined the sound and closed your eyes again. The sound repeated itself, this time a bit louder. Sitting up, you look around, yawning.

Sighing, you stand up and flick the light on. Looking around, you notice a dark silhouette in the window. Moving closer, you recognize Dabi's face. Opening the window, your breath hitched in your throat as you stare face to face with Dabi. Stepping back, you silently let him in.

As Dabi hopped through the window you watched him as he closed and locked your window before placing his duffle bag down, his eyes focussed on the ground.

"Baby?" You ask softly, placing a hand on Dabi's shoulder. He slightly flinched, but his eyes looked up to meet yours. "I'm really sorry for my part of things." You whisper, caressing his cheek with your other hand. His eyes softened.

Dabi opened his mouth to speak, before pausing and letting out a sigh. "It's fine. Let's just forget it." He placed his hands on your waist.

"No, baby I know I hurt you. And I'm sorry." You move your other hand so you were now holding his face in your hands, staring him dead in the eye. "I'm sorry, and I won't justify my actions. The way I downplayed your childhood was messed up and so so wrong of me."

Dabi stared at you, his turquoise eyes hiding his real emotions.

"C'mon.. please, talk to me. Don't hide your feelings..."

"I'm honestly over it.. but I think I'm sick.. there's this ache in my chest whenever I think about how I yelled at you, or how I just left.."

"There's an.. ache? Like in your heart?"

"Yep. I bet I won't live long." Dabi sighed, kissing your forehead.

Bursting out laughing, you nuzzle your nose against Dabi's. "Silly, you aren't dying. That feeling means that you feel guilty, and that you're sorry."

"Guilty.. that's a new feeling."

"I love you, and I hope you can forgive me."

"I love you too, and you are already forgiven." Dabi murmured, holding your chin as he kissed you softly.

~~~~~

Dabi's masterlist | Masterlist | Navigation | You can tip me here <3

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated <33

~~~~~

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way -minus reblogging.

[kmgkmg]

CREAM SODA - JEON WONWOO

word count: 1.6k…

pairing: wonwoo x afab!reader (otherwise gender neutral)

synopsis: wonwoo comes home from practice needing some relief (not a lot of plot...but a lot of action iykwim...)

genre/s: smut, idol!wonwoo, softdom!wonwoo, bf!wonwoo, established relationship, domestic

warnings: nipple play, shower sex, petnames (literally just baby), begging, biting, marking, fingering, overstimulation, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (both receiving)

rating: r (18+), minors dni

a/n: the lyrics were absolutely insane for exo's comeback but it also had me ~imagining~ things for wonwoo so...here it is! thank you so much to @rose-likesto-write for being the beta reader for this fic!

Wonwoo opened the door as carefully as he could, only to see you sleeping peacefully on the couch. It was already past one in the morning, he was drenched in sweat and his whole body ached from dancing for hours. 

“Baby, I’m home,” he softly announces to you. Seeing you stir awake causes him to smile lightly and caress your hair. 

“How was practice?” You yawn, getting up to hug him. 

“It was decent, nothing unusual. Are you sure you want to hug me though, I’m pretty gross right now.” He turns around to reveal the back of his shirt was soaked with sweat. 

You ignore his warning and hug him, “It’s okay, I need to shower before going to bed anyway.”

He hugs you back before separating the hug and raising an eyebrow, “It’s so late and you still haven’t showered…how lazy.” 

The tone of his voice was all too familiar, matched with the lust in his eyes. It’s evident that he wanted to have his way with you. “Guess we need to get clean then.” 

You’re fully awake now, excited of what the night has to bring you. What Wonwoo will do to you. 

“Already thinking about what I’m going to do to you, Y/N?” He teases you, nibbling on your bottom lip before kissing you deeply.  

You both become solely focused on each other, making out sloppily while taking off each other’s clothes. Bumping into things was a given, you could only imagine the mess your place was with clothing sprawled out everywhere. 

You finally get to the bathroom and Wonwoo wastes no time. He turns on the shower, pushing you against the shower wall as he starts kissing you again. The way that he was kissing you, you knew you’d be covered in marks. It didn’t matter though, he loved that the whole world would be knowing you were taken. Your quickened breaths could be felt as he continued to cover you in hickeys. 

He knew your weak spots just like the back of his hand. The amount of pressure to apply, the touches and reserved focus on certain parts of your body, he memorized it all. His lips linger on your nipples, biting them just enough to be both painful and full of pleasure. You were in the palm of his hands, shaking from his touch. Wonwoo spreads your thighs open, “Look how wet you are for me.” 

You can’t even muster a reply, overcome with pleasure from his affection. It was always this way whenever you had sex with Wonwoo. 

He stops abruptly, much to your dismay. He grabs the washcloth and lathers soap all over your body. Wonwoo also notices your eager eyes as you grab the washcloth from him and begin to rub soap over his body in return.

You paid special attention to the area behind his ears, knowing touching them only made him more aroused. He tosses the washcloth aside and kisses you again.

“I need you, now.” You beg, hand reaching for his dick. 

“Yeah?” He hums, continuing to leave marks all over your body, “How bad do you need me?” 

You kneel down, opening your mouth and stretching your tongue out to show him. 

He finds you cute the way you wanted to pleasure him just as much as he pleased you.

You take his dick into your hands and look at it in admiration, never getting over his size. You used your tongue to play with the tip before fitting as much of him as you could in your mouth. He was hard and thick which only turned you on more. You loved the taste of him.

He placed his hand gently behind your head and held himself in place with the other hand on the shower wall. “You can handle more of me, can’t you?” 

You attempt to say yes but it comes out muffled due to him being in your mouth. He slowly goes farther in, fucking your mouth. 

“You look so hot with my cock in your mouth, Y/N.”

You continued giving him head until he pulled out and released onto your face.

Looking up at him with swollen lips, teary eyes, and his load on your face you ask, “How was it?”

“You did so fucking good, baby. Should I give you a reward?” His low voice asks, helping you up onto your feet. He cleaned your face up with water. 

You nod fervently, “Yes please, Wonwoo.”

He turns the shower faucet off, deciding that the shower was too small for all that he wanted to do to you. Neither of you bother with grabbing a towel to dry off and he pushes you onto your shared bed.

He trails his fingers down your wet body slowly, sending chills. By the time he puts his fingers inside you, your body was already on fire. He goes at a steady rhythm, enjoying the overindulged expression on your face.

You reach for anything to hold on to, foolishly grabbing his hair. That doesn’t stop Wonwoo from fingering you, instead he uses his free hand to grab both of your wrists and pinned them above your head.

“Did I say you could move freely, Y/N?” His question could barely be heard as you experienced pure ecstasy from his touch. “Do I have to ask again?”

You shake your head no, unable to form a proper sentence. Each time he rammed his fingers into you, the heat inside you built up more. You weren’t sure how much longer you could take it. 

Moaning his name was enough to get him to look up with a sly smirk, knowing your voice when you were close to your limits. Without a second to waste, he pulls his fingers out, depriving you from any possible orgasm. 

“Wait until I give you permission.” 

Your whole body trembles, trying your best to follow his order. Raggedly you whine, “Please, Wonwoo, I need your fingers in me again.” 

“All pretty saying please…you’ve earned it.” He curls his fingers into you again and you instantly reach your climax. He rubs your thighs supportively, helping you work through the orgasm. Your mind went blank besides the image of Wonwoo being vivid.

“Y/N, do you deserve more?” He watches you catch your breath, having more planned for you. 

You were still panting, but craved more. Your eyes fluttered open, “Yes, please.”

Wonwoo smirked and laid soft kisses on your torso before continuing. You sprawl out again, preparing for whatever he was about to do. 

He skillfully used his tongue on your clit and squeezed your ass before sliding his tongue in you. You writhe under the new stimulation on your lower body. Clutching the sheets in your hands, your moans grow louder as you’re completely at Wonwoo’s mercy.

Intoxicated with the taste of you, Wonwoo’s grip around your thighs tightens more. He takes a break from eating you out and looks up at you dazed, “I just know this tastes too good to be healthy.”

Wonwoo loved eating your pussy. Drowning in your juice, he ate you out like it was an animalistic instinct of his. Your bodies grinded together in harmonization. Each time you squirmed he would move his tongue in a different direction, making you arch your back again and again. He gave you no time to recover and before you knew it, another orgasm came. You clenched your thighs together out of reflex, but Wonwoo loved it. Loved the way you wrapped his head between your thighs so much it only made him more excited. He continued to eat you out, even as you came. 

“Do you have enough strength to get on all fours?” Wonwoo’s question snaps you out of your bliss, knowing the main event is coming. You reposition yourself on the bed, having Wonwoo watch each move hungrily. 

He puts his hands on your hips and looks down at you with soft eyes, “Y/N, do you want this cock in you?”

Your head is facing the headboard, a sight you were too used to, “Use me all you want.” 

The sound of your gasp fills the bedroom as he fits his entire length into you. You roll your hips into his cock, legs still feeling weak and Wonwoo was to blame. You could feel yourself pulsing around his cock, so sensitive that anything he did would make you lose your mind. 

“Good baby, so tight for me. Who owns your sweet pussy?”

“You, Wonwoo! I’m all yours and only yours,” you whimper as your eyes roll back. 

Your words turn him on even more and he leans down to kiss you tenderly before thrusting faster. 

“I’m about to…” Wonwoo groans, unable to contain himself. 

“Fill me, fill me with all of you.” You plead, about to come for the nth time of the night. 

Your words send Wonwoo over the edge and he does one final thrust, filling you with him. His eyes close in pure euphoria as you clench around his cock. He pulls out and appreciates the view in front of him.

Wonwoo loved seeing his Y/N being left a mess. Hair disheveled, covered in sweat, and panting. He falls onto bed next to you, exhausted. 

“I love you,” Wonwoo sighed, caressing the side of your face.

“I love you more,” you exhaled, caressing his face as well. 

Wrapping his arms around you, Wonwoo’s fingers tapping against your shoulder as you nestled your head into his chest. You both laid in bed, unable to sleep but needing to rest after your strenuous night. After about thirty minutes, his bulge could be felt against your ass as he held you. 

“Not tired yet?” You tease him knowingly.

“Looks like we’ll need another shower,” he smugly replies.  

Tonight was going to be a long night, not that either of you minded.

[therealmsdelulu]

Frights and Fractures☆

Prompt☆: Character accidentally gets hurt in a spooky attraction and a scare actor breaks character to help. From this: prompt list

Summary☆: When Spencer Reid gets hurt during a haunted house, the scare actor is more than willing to lose their job in order to help.

Pairing☆: Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Warnings☆: Injury (fractured ankle). Physch major hate(jokingly)Mentions of gaslighting(in a humorous way though)

A/N☆:: Guys be warned, a lot of my humor is shown through Y/N and I think I'm a comedian 😀 Also first Spencer fic!

W.C☆:1.3k

Halloween was always a favorite of yours. You loved everything spooky and you adored the fall season. Once you were 'too old' for trick or treating, you decided to sign up as a scare actor at the nearest haunted house.

You got paid a decent amount and it was a really fun job. You got to make people's day all while giving them a small scare.

Your character was a fan favorite. You played one of the nurses in the abandoned asylum. Most visitors liked you because you were attractive but there was a small fraction of visitors who appreciated your humor.

You were creeping around the long and eerie hallways searching for your next victim when your eyes fell upon a tall and slender brunette who was obviously lost and desperately searching for whoever he came with.

He was dressed in a black, oversized sweater scattered with spiderwebs and pumpkins. He was actually pretty cute from what you could see. You smiled to yourself before remembering that you were on the clock.

You followed him around for a few minutes before you decided to strike. You pressed a button on your remote which was supposed to cause a wheelchair prop to slowly roll across the floor, a tame spook to get started.

However, when you pressed the button it prompted the wheelchair to roll out onto the floor at a faster speed than it was programmed to, causing the man to topple over before he could even register what was happening.

You gasped quietly and covered your mouth contemplating whether you wanted to laugh or go help. Technically you weren't allowed to break character or interact with visitors outside of scaring them, but once you heard the man groan in pain you quickly approached him.

"Hey, you okay?" you asked kneeling down next to him.

"What just happen?" he looked around searching for the source of his injury.

"You got wiped out by a run-away wheelchair," you said quietly, biting your lower lip to stifle a laugh, not being able to say that seriously.

"How ironic," he half-smiled before attempting to stand up but he winced quietly.

"Don't move," you insisted and began to reach out to inspect his ankle but quickly retracted your hands. "Do you mind if I check it out?"

"Do you have any actual medical training?" he asked teasingly.

"I'm CPR certified," you shrugged flashing him a small smile.

"Knock yourself out," he said and you gently squeezed his ankle watching his face for any signs of discomfort. You pulled away your hand when you saw his small flinch.

"Sorry," you apologized softly. "It might be broken," you concluded even though you had no way of knowing for sure.

"Actually, it's probably a lateral malleolus fracture. That's the most common type of ankle fracture," he corrected you.

"And what exactly is a lateral whatever you just said?"

"It's the outer part of your ankle," he clarified flashing you a small smile.

"Are you a doctor?" you wondered how he diagnosed himself without even giving it a second thought.

"Not the medical kind, but yes,"

"Ooh, that's impressive," you said in genuine amazement. "So what do you do for work? Are you a professor or something,"

"I'm a profiler," he informed you.

"Really? I've always hated phsych majors, this is even worse,"

"How so?" he inquired, searching for even the slightest bit of context.

"I feel like psych majors are just training to be professional gaslighters." you explained, you were joking but there was a small hint of seriousness in your tone

"But you play a nurse in an asylum" he pointed out.

"True," you smiled, "I should ask to play a different character,"

"Did you know that clinical psychologists make up the single largest specialty area in psychology?" he asked you and you smiled at the way his eyes lit up as he spoke.

"Clinicians are psychologists who assess, diagnose and treat mental illnesses," he elaborated with a bright smile and you listened attentively as he spoke.

"Many individuals study psychology because they want to better understand themselves or those around them. Through learning psychology, you gain a deeper understanding of the many factors that affect human behavior." he added, moving his hands in dramatic motions as he spoke. You looked into his eyes as he spoke, genuinely paying attention to what he had to say, and as he finished talking he looked into your eyes as well maintaining the eye contact for a moment before looking away shyly.

"I'm rambling aren't I?" he asked with a shy smile.

"A little, but I don't mind." you flashed him a sweet smile. "Your voice is actually really calming."

"I'm not used to hearing that," he said quietly and flashed you a small smile of appreciation.

In the brief moment of silence that followed, you took the moment to take in his features.

He was the prettiest guy you had ever seen. He had soft, hazel eyes. A warm honey color with a slight hint of green. Your eyes traced the outline of his plump lips that were tinted a soft pink and he finally realized that you were checking him out.

"Were you flirting with me?" he asked, his cheeks a faint pink hue.

"For a profiler, you really suck at picking up social queues," you teased with a sly smile.

"I get that a lot" he said smiling sheepishly when your moment was suddenly interrupted by the sound of shouting

"Spencer!" you heard a deep, masculine voice yell.

"Reid?" you heard a more feminine voice yell.

"Over here!" he yelled and you discovered his name was Spencer. Suddenly, a group of 2 women and a man approached the two of you.

"We lose him for 5 minutes and he somehow manages to get hurt," the dark-haired woman said to the bald man.

"I think pretty boy did it on purpose," the bald man said gesturing towards you and the brunette man and a red-headed woman, wearing the most flashy and unique outfit you had ever seen, ruffled Spencer's hair.

"Looks like he's in good hands," the redhead said smiling at you.

"Well unfortunately, I'm not a real nurse." you smiled at the woman.

"Is it bad?" she asked.

"Lateral malleolus fracture," you and Spencer said at the same time and shyly smiled at one another.

"Right," the brunette woman deadpanned sharing a look with the man next to her. "And you are?"

"Y/N, and you three are?"

"Penelope Garcia," the red-headed woman introduced herself.

"Emily Prentiss," the darker haired woman said flashing you a small smile.

"Derek Morgan," the bald man introduced himself with a small, playful wink and Spencer rolled his eyes.

"Do you flirt with every one you see?" Emily asked with an eye roll of her own.

"So, I'm assuming you guys are profilers too?" you asked the group.

"Those two yes, I'm a technical analyst," Garcia explained.

"I feel extremely unsafe right now," you joked and Spencer shook his head with laughter.

"Unsafe?" Morgan asks tilting his head visibly confused

"Inside joke," you and Spencer said at the same time and began laughing even harder.

"You guys have been alone for like 5 minutes and you already have an inside joke?" Prentiss asked sharing a look with Garcia and curling her lips in a small smirk.

"My man," Morgan said with a smile patting Spencer on the back and you watched as his cheeks turned a faint hue of crimson.

"Are you done?" Spencer asked pretending to be irritated with the man even though he was biting back a smile.

"You should probably go see an actual nurse now," you suggested with a half-smile gesturing towards his ankles.

"Right," he said with a slight pout and it took everything in you not to kiss it away. Morgan and Prentiss began to lift him up making sure he didn't put any weight on his ankle and you blew Spencer a kiss as they walked towards the exit.

"Wait, Y/N?" Spencer blurted, he turned around and flashed you a small grin,"Could I possibly get your number? You know, In case I need a second opinion?"

☆My submission for the CM Meet Cute (or not) Challenge 📚☕️ by @imagining-in-the-margins

[whimsicalpolitical]

Medicine // Ross Macdonald x Reader

a/n: I’m on my period, I’m in pain and I NEED ROSS

summary: You’re in so much pain and you’re the luckiest girl because Ross takes care of you

warnings: PURE FLUFF and a lot of period pain

masterlist

────────────────────────

04:18. You groan quietly as you look at the clock. You just want one night of rest. But your period pain is making sure you won’t get that.

Ross is holding you close, spooning you with his arms draped around your body. His right hand is resting on your lower stomach, having the same function as a heating pad.

Last night you had difficulties falling asleep and Ross knew and he also knew that his warmth had helped you in the past. Unfortunately as every medicine and tools to make you feel better, it stops eventually. So Ross’ touch lasted from 10pm until now. Now you’re just in pain and you can’t lay still anymore.

You slowly swoop out of Ross arms and move to the end of the bed. The windows are closed, but the curtains are open. Since the weather is shit again, not much light goes through anyway.

No matter what weather though, Ross always sleeps without a shirt. His body full on display you stand there and admire him until the pain knocks you out of your dreamy state.

You move to the bathroom, brush your teeth, change into different cozy clothes and then make your way to the kitchen. You’re in discomfort and you hope a decent amount of water will change that.

It’s not uncommon that you can’t stand for a long time, sit or lay down because everything hurts in every position. So you squat down and let your head fall between your hands. You get drowsy again and you think that you might fall asleep in this position until you feel a hand on your back. “Sweetheart, what are you doing?”

You keep your position, but you lift your head to look at the sleepy man in front of you. You shrug, “I couldn’t sleep anymore and everything hurts.” Ross rubs his eyes and takes the glass of water from your hands until he takes your hands and makes you stand up.

“And instead of waking me, you spend time on the kitchen floor?” He asks ironically and nudges your nose with his. “Shouldn’t be doing that, ‘s daft.” His eyes are genuine and you know he wouldn’t mind if you wake him up, but still, you know he needs his sleep as well.

You give him a smile which is replaced by a hiss when you feel like your body is going to explode. Ross rubs your lower back, knowing pain is spreading in that area as well. “Take advil yet?”

You rest your head on his shoulder and shake your head against it. Ross feels the movement and he really wants you to take it but he gives you a moment and preps your cheek with kisses.

“C’mon love, bed or couch?” His hands find your waist and he moves you back so you’re forced to look into his eyes, and forced to give him an answer.

“Couch,” you mumble and he nods. Everything in your face signalizes that your in pain and the heaviness of your eyes make it very clear that you’re tired. Through all the heaviness your hands find Ross’ beard as you pull him close and give him a soft kiss.

“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable, I’ll prep everything for you. You want a hot-water bottle or another heat patch?” You tell him a hot-water bottle would be great and he gives you another quick kiss, then filling up the kettle with water.

You make your way into the living room, spread out the blankets and pillows, then covering yourself under them. “Don’t fall asleep just yet alright? Here.” Instead of handing you the advil, he’s telling you to ‘open up’. He’s taking care of you by not even letting you hold your own glass of water and it makes your heart flutter.

“Thank you Ross,” His perfect brown eyes are staring down at you with nothing but affection as a crooked smile fills his face. Even when it’s almost 5 am he loves to take care of you and you love him even more for that.

“Course, hate those bloody cramps as much as you do,” his hand travels from your cheek to your forehead, feeling your temperature. He doesn’t say anything, which means you’re not burning up.

The tea kettle starts to ring and Ross excuses himself, “hold on darlin, keep those eyes open ‘right,” he chuckles as he goes to finish up the hot-water bottle.

Meanwhile you cuss under your breath, hoping that the pain meds will eventually start to have an effect. You curl your legs up and try to find a comfortable position but it’s hard and you feel like you can’t breathe. You sit up and lean against the couch, tears already forming, because of the tiredness.

Ross comes into the living room and settles down next to you. He put the bottle on to the table at first, then he puts his arms under your knees to lift you onto his lap, sideways, so you can rest your head in the crook of his neck. This way he can rub your back and you can have the bottle on your stomach.

“What do you need love?” He asks as he wipes your tears with his thumb, “you tell me anything and I’ll give it to you.”

“It just hurts so bad Ross,” you murmured softy, his hands still cradling your face.

“I know,” he breathes out your name as a kind gesture, “ it’s shit.” He says, which makes you chuckle a bit against him. His british accent makes swearing funnier then it is.

He continues to hold you as wave after wave of your period pain came and went. You let your head fall against him again, closing your eyes as you focus on his breathing. “You’re doing amazing love,” he fills the silence with praises as he preps kisses to your forehead every once in a while.

It’s not long until the advil is finally working, the heat is radiating on your stomach and Ross massaging your back muscles, which help you fall into a slumber again. When Ross is sure you’re asleep, he lays you down on your back, then he cleans up for a bit before settling next to you again. One hand is holding the heating bottle to your stomach, while the other is brushing hair off of your face.

He gives you a couple of kisses until he falls asleep again as well.

-

It’s 9 when you wake up again, Ross still asleep next to you. Your pain level is better, bearable this time. You put the bottle on the table before you roll onto your side, facing Ross.

You kiss his right cheek, then the left, his forehead, his nose and then his lips. His lips forming a smile after suppressing a yawn. “Feelin’ any better?” He asks and you nod even though you’re sure he can’t see you because his eyes are still closed.

“Much. Thank you Ross, really,” you love on him, “I’m sure I would be dead without you.” He laughs and pulls you closer by letting your back find his arm.

“Anything for you, glad you’re better.” He trails kisses down your neck until his lips finally finds yours. “I love you.”

You melt right then and there, “I love you.”

It takes some time until you finally get up and get ready just to spend your day cuddled up on the couch, watching movies.

[queenimmadolla]

do you think we could maybe possibly 👉👈 see penny or wayne’s first christmas? 🥹

you got it, babe! lemme present to you, Penny's first Christmas :') ♡

𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬

(dad!eddie munson x mom!reader) Summary: It's your daughter Penny's first Christmas, which means Eddie HAS TO sing to her. He has to.

Warnings: very brief sad eddie, but it’s okay because he has you and penny :)

a/n: this request is also inspired by @kitmon who beta'd this AND wrote their version which is an absolute gift this holiday season. read. it.

more dad!eddie and penny (plus baby Wayne) can be found here. 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Christmas in your life was always hit or miss. More so miss the older you got, though you didn’t like to talk about it much considering you were only 20 years old and way too young to be jaded. Still, you wanted to capture the same sort of contentment and comfort it brought you as a child for your own baby.

Eddie felt the same, having never really had an idealistic Christmas. Wayne had tried to make the holiday decent for him, but they both missed his mom so much, they usually just ordered a pizza and spent the day on the couch watching the few home videos they had. Two tapes.

He remembers his mom trying her hardest to make it good for him, can recall being given a present while they were cuddling in the backseat of her scrappy, near-broken down car, surrounded by blankets for warmth while his dad and his . . . supplies were strewn about their shack of a home. It’d been a cassette, a mixed volume of Christmas songs Eddie had developed a fixation with after hearing Christmas music play in the various department stores his mother took him to during the day for warmth, unwilling to expose him to whatever it was his father was cooking in their one room lodge. 

She’d made sure he was snug in one of the blankets before she turned the car on and played the tape; they'd spent the rest of Christmas day singing along to it, over and over again. It had been the last Christmas he’d ever had with her.

While it was a memory he cherished, he was keen on never letting Penny experience Christmas, or any day, like that.

It was the reason why he hadn’t protested when you insisted on decorating the trailer with an almost sickening amount of red and green decorations. He’d never seen so much tinsel in his life. Actually, up until then he’d never encountered it before.

Penny was drawn to it, as she was any shiny thing, and often had to be dragged away when she tried to crawl as fast as she could to the Christmas tree so she could yank it off and shove it into her mouth, desperate to chew–as well as she could without any teeth actually fully out–on anything to soothe her gums from the pain of the teeth trying to break through.  Eddie couldn’t wait until they’d come in and she wouldn’t be in pain anymore, nor shoving things in her mouth. The night the tree had gone up as well as the decorations, he’d spent more time than he’d care to admit crawling around the floor to make sure none of the hooks for the ornaments or any of the small light fixtures had dropped to the ground because now that he was a dad, every single thing he saw was a choking hazard for his baby girl. 

And she loved to give him heart attacks.

Like right then, as she opened her mouth as wide as she could to try and stuff a bell that had fallen off one of the bows tied to your bedroom door knob, into her mouth. Eddie dropped Sweetheart, wincing as he heard the body of it make contact with the carpet, and darted over to where Penny had plopped herself, carefully pulling the bell out of her tiny, surprisingly strong and drooly grasp.

“Pretty one, that doesn’t go in your mouth,” he cooed, shoving the bell into his pocket before lifting her into his arms as she whimpered, head moving around to try and spy the object she’d been about to consume. When it became clear to her he’d taken it away, her plump lower lip jutted out and wobbled while her big brown eyes began to fill with water.

“Oh, no.” He frowned, mimicking her expression before he pressed a couple of kisses to her squishy cheek as her whimpering intensified, fat tears rolling down to meet his lips. “My poor baby, daddy hurt your feelings, didn’t he?”

Even though he was saving her freaking life, he still had to apologize.

“I’m sorry, honey. Why don’t we play with one of your other toys, instead?” Eddie readjusted his hold on her as her whimpering turned into cries, the forced hiccuping kind with her eyes squeezed shut to force out more tears in an effort to make him feel like the Worst Father™ in the world. Eddie sat down in front of the couch, a crying Penny perched on his lap as he reached for one of the few discarded toys she’d gotten bored of earlier. It was a green rattle, shaped like Kermit the frog’s head, one of Penny’s favorite toys since she seemed to be obsessed with the muppets, even at her young age. “Look, baby! It’s Kermit.” He shook the rattle a little ways from her face to gain her attention and like magic, her cries stopped, breath only hitching with her hiccups as she focused on the toy in his hand. Here came Eddie’s favorite part.

Penny’s breathing got a little more intense, heavy as her eyes widened with an almost scary amount of focus behind them before she threw her weight forward, only stopped from face planting on the carpet by Eddie’s hand around her plump tummy as she grasped the rattle. Then, she let out the happiest shriek, aggressively shaking the rattle before she began whacking Kermit’s head against the carpet on the side of Eddie’s thigh. See, while he knew she liked The Muppets because of how transfixed she became when watching the movies, he couldn’t figure out whether she loved or hated Kermit. Eddie chuckled as she let out various coos of delight, all high in pitch as she began smiling and laughing. “There’s my happy girl.” He lifted her briefly to give her cheek another kiss before setting her down between his legs as he carefully stood up, eyes still focused on his daughter happily abusing The Muppet toy. “I can’t tell if she likes Kermit or if she has a great disdain for him,” you commented as you emerged from the bedroom, glancing back at the door while you closed it due to its lack of jingle. 

God, you really were his other half, always thinking the same thing as him. Usually. Eddie dug around his pocket, pulling the bell out to showcase it to you. “Your daughter took it upon herself to go on a quest in search of you and almost choked on this.” Your heart grew three times its size as you learned not only had your baby missed you enough to go looking for you, she apparently found you and had yanked off a bell dangling from the bow secured around your bedroom door knob to get to you. “Why is she my daughter when she stresses you out?” You gave him a playful glare as you walked over, scooping Penny into your arms. She immediately threw the Kermit rattle away in favor of gripping onto your sweater, furiously trying to pull the neckline down. You grabbed hold of one of her little hands to stop her, “Uh-uh. Nope. You finished eating half an hour ago and you are not about to use my nipple for your teething.” You’d made that mistake one too many times already and while it hadn’t been so bad at the start of her teething, now that she actually had teeth coming in, it hurt like a bitch when she’d clamp her gums down.  Penny didn’t like that. Her happiness immediately died away, replaced with the forced tears again. You groaned, ready to submit to her demands when Eddie picked Sweetheart up off the ground, strumming once to catch Penny’s attention.

Her head snapped in his direction, waterline shiny with tears she was ready to abandon. She knew what Eddie bringing the guitar out meant. Well, usually. Eddie would tune Sweetheart around her, maybe play some of Corroded Coffin’s less harsh stuff to her but when it came down to the real deal, he’d usually put a pair of noise muffling headphones, he’d bought especially for her, on her cute little head. 

“You like that, little bitty pretty one?” Eddie laughed, the sound so soft it somehow had you blushing.

Penny’s lips parted, gums exposed as her little nose wrinkled with how hard she was grinning at her dad.

“I’ll be right back,” He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her soft curls and your forehead before he disappeared into the bedroom, returning moments later with the acoustic.

“Alright, now we’re ready to party.” At the last word, Penny released your sweater to clap her hands together, it’s what she knew to do at parties.

Eddie sat down on the couch and you followed, sitting  on the other cushion, placing Penny between you two as he got settled.

“Today calls for something special,” Eddie licked his lips, fingers gently drumming along the neck as he thought back to that last Christmas in his mom’s car, to one song she sang with a level of emotion he hadn’t been able to understand at the time.

He cleared his throat, fingers plucking at the chords as he began.

One chord. Two, three, four chords.

“Bells will be ringing, this sad, sad New Year’s 

Oh, what a Christmas to have the blues.” 

He crooned, palm tapping on the body of the guitar in rhythm with the beat he knew startlingly well for someone who was more of a Grinch than a Christmas enthusiast. 

He remembered every Christmas after that last one being exceptionally lonely. The one after his mother died was spent in his dad’s VW bus while he worked in the house. His dad got him a toy he didn’t have any batteries for and left him with the blankets formally stashed in his mom’s car, though he’d check on him whenever he remembered. He’d been six and all alone. 

“My baby's gone, I have no friends

 To wish me greetings, once again.”

Christmas of ‘71 hadn’t been much better, but he’d learned to really use his imagination to escape. While it was another holiday spent in the bus, he’d had a couple of his toys to act out his stories, and his dad remembered to get him batteries for the new one he got him. He didn’t check on him that Christmas, but Eddie was fine. By Christmas of ‘77, Eddie was used to spending the holiday, as well as most of his days alone. His dad had moved on from giving him a toy to comics. Instead of coming up with the stories, he’d read them straight out of his mom’s books (which he fished out of the trash after his dad threw them away). His favorite was Lord of the Rings. 

“Choirs will be singin' Silent Night, 

  Christmas carols by candlelight

  Please come home for Christmas, 

  please come home for Christmas

  If not for Christmas, by New Year's night.”

Christmas of ‘78 was his first with Wayne, who had insisted they spend it together in the living room despite how little they’d interacted all year and how awkward their dynamic still was. Every Christmas following was significantly better and he deemed it perfect when you came along. Only he’d been wrong. 

Eddie tore his gaze away from the guitar in his hands and pulled his head out of the past in favor of staring at his future: the baby girl in her red and white striped Christmas onesie gazing up at him in wonder, and her beautiful mother just behind her.

“Friends and relations send salutations

Sure as the stars shine above.”

Eddie leaned down over the neck of the guitar, briefly pressing his forehead to Penny’s as she let out a happy shriek, her little hands reaching up to rest on either side of his head. He chuckled, giving her a wink as he leaned back up—not too far away—and pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

Before he could get the next verse out, Penny let out a long babble that was much too coordinated to be just baby talk and Eddie’s eyes gleamed, heart just about ready to explode into a confetti when he realized she was trying to sing with him. 

“You wanna sing with me, baby?” He asked, voice soft and face nearly splitting with his grin when she answered by moving onto her knees and extending her hands in the air, bouncing on her diaper-cushioned bottom.

Penny was dancing. 

It was both the most adorable thing and also freaking hilarious considering she looked like she was trying to pump a crowd up on the dance floor rather than listening to her daddy sing her Christmas songs.

Eddie threw his head back with laughter and you were smothering your own behind your palm, wanting nothing more than to run and get the camcorder but you couldn’t miss a single second of this. 

Once he’d recovered, having been strumming the same chords he left off on much longer than he should have, he continued singing to Penny who wasn’t at all put off from crunking on the couch by her parents’ laughter. 

“But this is Christmas, yes, Christmas, my dear,

 Some time of year to be with the one you love.”

Eddie pressed a kiss to her little nose after crooning out the last word, flinching a little when she practically uppercut him with her head since she refused to stop bopping up and down. 

“So won't you tell me you'll never more roam?

 Christmas and New Year's will find you home.”

The long winded babbling picked up after that as Penny decided she could dance and sing with her daddy.

Eddie had never had a better singing partner, no offense to you.

He leaned forward again, staring into Penny's pretty brown eyes—he knew she got them from him, but her eyes were so much prettier than his, he couldn’t explain it—fingers barely even strumming the chords as Penny slowly settled, shiny mouth dropping open as her chunky cheeks cinched up with the force of her wide smile to match her dad’s.

“There’ll be no more sorrow,” Eddie sang, his chest aching with the love he had for her as her babbling turned into cooing once more, “no grief and pain. And I'll be happy, happy once again.”

The last note drifted through the trailer and you understood your cue.

“Yay!” You began clapping to encourage your daughter who immediately joined you, chubby, dimpled hands applauding eagerly for her dad as she let out a couple more shrieks of delight and momentarily glanced back at you to make sure you saw her clapping, look mommy! I’m clapping again! I can do it, too! 

Eddie preened under the attention, bowing forward.

“Thank you, thank you. You were a spectacular crowd. Especially you in the front.”

Eddie booped Penny’s nose and she giggled.

“And I’ll see you backstage.” Eddie winked at you, smirking and pleased when he saw you shift around and get all shy. As you discovered almost immediately after giving birth, having Eddie Munson’s baby didn’t make you immune to his flirting. 

“Alright, rockstar. I was backstage this morning.”

“And you’re gonna be backstage tonight, several times. And tomorrow morning, a couple more times after that, when we drop Penny off at Maude and Wayne’s, in the van at least twice this week, and—honey, I can go on.”

You threw the cushion you were resting against at him and he dodged it effortlessly, shooting you a mischievous look before he focused back on the baby girl between you. 

“Mommy doesn’t wanna show me any love,” Eddie pouted at your daughter and you scoffed, eyes narrowing at the blatant LIE. The things you wanted to show him were not appropriate to do in front of your child and he knew it, “Can daddy have a kiss?”

Penny babbled but she knew what that word meant, and she loved giving kisses.

Penny leaned forward, practically drooling all over Eddie’s pursed lips as she gave him the world’s sloppiest kiss.

Okay, so she didn’t exactly know how to give kisses, yet, but she still loved doing whatever the heck it was she was doing. She’d get there as soon as she developed better motor skills.

“Aw, thank you, baby.”

Eddie scooped her up, cradling her to his chest and you were moments away from mentally listing all the reasons you could not give him another baby when Wayne entered the trailer, arms full of presents and Maude trailing quietly behind him. 

“Merry Christmas,” he called over the stack and Eddie handed Penny over to you as he got up to help Wayne.

“You didn’t need to go overboard for Pen, Pops.” Eddie commented, carefully unloading them under the tree in the corner of the den alongside the gifts you and Eddie had purchased for each other and Penny, as well as the gifts your friends had dropped off earlier (most of which were also for Penny).

“The majority of that is not me,” Wayne stated and Maude blushed, making her way over to the couch to give you the softest of hugs. 

She reached a hesitant hand out to stroke over Penny’s curls and you shifted Penny around in your hold until she was closer to Maude.

Penny and Maude were very familiar with each other, Maude watched her while both you and Eddie were working and on date nights, but the widow from a few trailers down was still shy at times, never wanting to overstep boundaries that weren’t really there.

She was kind and you were happy Wayne had finally found some happiness rather than simply existing in the trailer (that was now yours and Eddie’s) for the rest of his life.

Penny reached for Maude and she happily accepted her into her arms, allowing you to join the boys. 

“We appreciate it, but Penny’s probably going to be more taken with the wrapping paper than anything in those boxes,” you said as you stood next to Eddie, who tucked you under his arm.

Wayne gave you the smallest of smiles, almost proud looking. “‘That’s what Maude said. Didn’t just get her toys, she also got her stuff like yarn since the little rugrat’s always reachin’ for Maude’s.”

The three of you turned to watch Maude set Penny down on the carpet. She immediately began crawling for the presents under the tree, stopping and sitting in front of the largest which was wrapped in a reflective green paper with a beautiful red bow.

Seeing your daughter surrounded by so many gifts and a family that obviously loved her brought you immense joy.

Yes, Christmas used to be hit or miss for you. You had a feeling that would no longer be the case for you and your family.