#he has taken a hold of my brain just a little

[mangotangerine]

what if ozzie created hell's version of ao3 and then radiostatic became one of the most popular ships but alastor didn't find out because ew, technology, until one day he did, but the top 69 fics are written by the same person & have incredibly realistic aspects that only one other person in hell would know

well, i wrote it. see below the cut for what i have so far

vox writes fanfic (and his username is alastors_babygirl)

Alastor goes nearly a century without acquiring any of those ridiculous, overdesigned electronic devices that the rest of Hell rots their brain with.

×

Things have been odd as of late. Angel Dust has been giving him strange looks—not the usual objectifying leer meant to evoke discomfort, but something more inquisitive—and Niffty has taken to giggling every time he walks past that tacky television they keep in the lounge. It hadn’t bothered him at first, as Angel Dust has always been a strange fellow, and Niffty is… well, Alastor isn’t sure if even she understands her own whimsy, sometimes.

But now, it’s getting a bit out of hand.

“Niffty, my dear,” Alastor says, “I have a question for you.”

She giggles, likely because he is standing next to the television. She manages to get it under control, though he can still hear the laughter in her voice as she says, “Yes?”

He glances pointedly at the television, then back at Niffty, and her grin widens. She kicks her feet and covers her mouth to hold back the giggles that threaten to erupt, and Alastor sighs. He is not going to get satisfying answers from her. “Never mind,” he says, weary. “Perhaps Charlie knows.”

×

Charlie blushes a bright red and flips her phone face-down in a panic, when he finally asks her in her office.

“Um—um, well…” she trails off, body language broadcasting her discomfort.

“This is getting tiring,” Alastor says, letting irritation bleed into his voice. “Despite my confidence that it is not the case, because who would be so foolish, I feel as though I’m being mocked. It is quite unpleasant.”

“No! No no no!” she squeaks. “No, it’s not that, it’s just…” she takes a deep breath. “The fan fiction.”

“The what now?” Alastor asks, eyebrows furrowing.

She bites her lip, glancing down at her phone. “Asmodeus um… launched this new website,” she starts, and Alastor wrinkles his nose in disgust. Ugh, not this nonsense again. “And, well… people write stories on it about... about media or things they’re fans of. Like—like use the characters and setting, and… andyou’rethemostpopularship,” she says in a rush.

Alastor looks down at himself, and then back up at Charlie. “I didn’t take you for the type to be critical of somebody’s figure, regardless of the inaccuracy of your statement,” he says, clearly disappointed, and Charlie gasps.

“No! Ship—ship, like relationship! Not—I would never.” She’s offended now, frowning at him. “Why would you think I’d—”

“Please, Charlie,” Alastor says sharply, “Explain to me in plain language.”

She bites her lip, then shrinks a little in her seat. “Sometimes people… um, write stories about people, who they think would be good in a relationship… like romance stories.”

“What does this have to do with anything?” Alastor snaps.

“You’re the top—you’re the um, most popular, uh, ship. Relationship. Well, not just you, it takes two—anyway.” She stops, and smiles at him nervously.

“Who is the second party in this ‘relationship’ involving myself?” he asks, eyes narrowed.

When she tells him, he very politely demands to be shown this website, and she meekly flips her phone over and slides it toward him. He looks through it, smile fading slowly until it’s just a barely-there quirk of the lips. “Who?” he asks, unable to hide the venom in his voice. “Who is writing these?”

“Many—many people, Alastor. It’s—there’s—I, I mean, you see how many stories!” she squeaks.

“Do you read the ones where I’m involved with your father?” he asks, suspicious, as he points at the device. She gasps.

“No!” Charlie practically yells. “No, I do—I do not read sex stories about my—”

“Sex stories?” Alastor asks, voice thick with radio distortion, and she covers her mouth in horror at her own mistake.

“I—I mean, not all of them are—I mean, there are a ton that are just—and not just with my dad, but with—you know, him, and they’re—they’re so sweet, Alastor!”

The exhaustion is settling in his bones now, his ever-present smile twisted into a sardonic grimace. “I fail to understand how there can be any stories involving me and that—that walking billboard that are sweet.”

“Well, um…” she hesitates, nervous. “You could… you could read some?”

“I will most certainly not be doing that,” he says. “I will be going now. I appreciate your transparency, as painful as the information was to extract from you.”

Alastor leaves with his signature flourish, melting into the shadows.

×

He goes a week before he folds, though he has one of those egg creatures Sir Pentious left behind procure an electronic device for him instead of trying to find one himself. He then commands it to demonstrate how to navigate to that vapid archive of obscenities everyone seems so enraptured by.

Though there are a lot of these creepy little stories, and just as many writers, the most popular of these ‘fan fiction’ novellas are all written under the same pen name and have very specific personal details that only one other person in Hell would know.

Well, he supposes it has been quite a while since he’s gone to terrorize that tower in person. Why, he’s been positively angelic since his return to the public sphere. It’s time to pay his old friend a visit.

×

He could go in the front door, cause a scene, really ham it up for Vox’s pervasive cameras, but that’s too easy. Too predictable, and what sort of performer would he be if he didn’t improvise and change things up a bit?

Alastor materializes in Vox’s office, behind his chair. He is, unfortunately, not alone, as Alastor had hoped. Startled, Velvette screams, and Alastor turns to blink at her owlishly.

“Was that really necessary?” he asks.

Vox spins around in his chair so fast it keeps spinning, makes 3 revolutions before Vox manages to stop it. Alastor looks Vox up and down, nose wrinkled in distaste.

“I just greased it!” Vox says defensively. “It doesn’t do that all the time, I can—I can control my chair!”

“Why is he here?” Velvette hisses, and Vox points menacingly at Alastor.

“Yeah! Why is he—why are you here?”

Alastor inhales deeply, and lets out a slow, disappointed sigh. “We need to talk.”

“Get out of my fucking tower,” Vox snaps.

“I’d love to,” Alastor says, “as soon as you answer some questions about the creepy little love stories you’ve been writing online.”

Vox blanches, as much as a television screen can blanch—that is, his face turns greyscale, reminding Alastor very distinctly of the picture shows his mother used to take him to as a child. It’s very amusing, on Vox.

“Velvette, get out,” Vox orders, voice sharp. The color slowly bleeds back into his face, one pixel at a time.

Velvette gets up, looking like she’s about to argue, when Alastor turns to face her directly, twirling his microphone in hand as his smile grows.

“Fine, fuck you,” she spits, and makes her way out.

Then it’s just Alastor and Vox. Vox and Alastor. Two old friends. Two old buddies. Pals. Former pals. Ex-partners.

“I can explain,” Vox says, panicked.

“Oh,” Alastor says, sounding delighted. “You’re admitting to it so easily? Usually you’re more difficult than that.”

“Fuck,” Vox groans.

[sorens-bsf]

Sorvus people I offer the beginning of a fanfic I've been working on for a bit 😁

SO it's a 5+1 fic of Soren and Corvus being in an established relationship, but Terry doesn't know this and he believes that they're just very good friends. So he's third-wheeling them and trying to set them up with each other not knowing that they're already together.

I've almost finished it it's around 5k words in total. But here's the very first part as an introduction

1.

It was clear Soren and Corvus were dear companions, the best of friends, actually. Terry had assessed this long before they began their search for Harrow - it was simply clear in all that they did with each other.

The trio flew high above Xadia, the ground a mere blur of indistinguishable greens and blues. Terry hummed to himself lightly, relishing in the cool wind and company. 

Hushed voices had risen forward, it took him a moment to register that Corvus had turned slightly around from the front to speak to Soren. His words went unheard, even by Terry’s ears, but Soren had laughed loudly from whatever Corvus had muttered. 

“I remember that! Oh man..” the blonde replied from where he sat closely behind the man, now chuckling softly. At seeing his approval of the comment, Corvus smiled fondly, watching Soren with intrigue. 

It occurred a few more times as they flew - Corvus and Soren turning toward each other and offering a few words, engaging in soft conversation and light laughter. Terry didn’t feel left out or anything of the sort, simply enjoying both the ride and the scene between the two men in front of him. Occasionally, Soren would turn to him too, and include him in the talk, making ridiculous comments that, however they confused Terry, made him laugh too.

Throughout the flight, each time they rediscovered a want for conversation and thus turned to the other, seeking words and response, Soren and Corvus would literally grow closer. Soren's hands gripped at Corvus’ sides, holding on tightly to his hips - probably for stabilization, Terry thought. Over time, he would inch further into the man, leaving little room with each moment passed. Terry only realised later on how physically close the two had gravitated to each other, once it occurred to him that Soren was practically hugging Corvus. His arms were wrapped around his waist tightly, his head resting on his shoulder. The man in front did not seem to mind Soren’s proximity, instead, he seemed even happier sitting there with Soren snuggled into him. At one point, Soren placed his chin above Corvus’ head, resting it there, to which Corvus had teased him on it but truly paid no mind. They would still whisper to each other from time to time, softly spoken words that would be lost to the wind before they could reach Terry’s ears.

What a lovely friendship, Terry thought, it’s so nice to see two friends not shy away from being affectionate with one another. Terry smiled to himself, glancing once more at the pair, before turning his attention to the clouds.

--

If anyone read this, I'm almost done with the 5 other parts of the fic, I just need to clean it up a bit. The rest is basically just this trio being dumb and they're in the woods most of the time but yay. I want to write slowburn sorvus bestfriends to lovers EVENTUALLY but for now idk this one where they're already together has taken over my brain :)

ANYWAY i ramble too much. This 5+1 Sorvus + Terry fic should be on ao3 soon 😊

[thetomorrowshow]

love is such a drag

Chapter one: Scar's first encounter with the angel (and Grian gets to eat ice cream)

welcome to my scariana griande drag college au. this will be quite the ride from start to finish.

~

Scar spots her from across the bar.

It would be hard not to notice her, honestly. Despite the dim, almost cloudy lighting of the room, she glows, as if a heavenly spotlight is set right on her to make it clear that she just descended from heaven.

Scar sneaks glances at her over the fun green umbrella in his drink. She's sitting by herself—an absolute crime, if you ask Scar—, swishing around the little black straw in her drink. Her dark blond hair falls in gorgeous ringlets down around her shoulders, outlining her face the way a pure golden frame would surround only the most beautiful of paintings.

Her nose is small, turned up just a little bit in a peak, the bridge delicate and sparkling with a small amount of angel dust that must be left over from the aforementioned descent. Her eyes are almost comically doe-like, large and accentuated with soft pink eye shadow and long eyelashes. Scar can't quite tell what color her eyes are from this distance (brown, maybe? Black?), but he knows that whatever color they are, they are absolutely perfect.

Her lips are pink to match her eye shadow, glittery, small and pursed, as if her drink isn't near good enough to pass those delicately soft lips.

Scar hasn't even met the woman, but he wants to kiss those lips. He wants some of that angel dust to find its way onto his own lips.

Her cheeks are rosy and full, and her round chin rests on her palm as she casts a bored look around the bar.

Scar downs the last bit of his drink for courage.

He sticks the umbrella in his shirt pocket for good luck.

Then he picks up his cane and saunters over, frantically sorting through every pick-up line in his repertoire—though none of them seem to match the beauty of God's creation before him.

She looks up at him as he approaches, peering at him from under those long lashes, and now he can tell—

Her eyes are grey, but not grey like clouds, or the sea, or the bartop that her arm rests on. Her eyes are grey like the comforter on his mom's bed, like the bricks around the fireplace back in his grandpa's old house, like the silver colored pencil he'd taken all his notes in for a semester to try and prove to Cub that it worked just as well as a normal pencil (it hadn't).

Her eyes are grey like the backdrop of Scar's dreams, the firmament that rests between consciousness and all else.

And then, of course, he's right there.

And she's waiting.

There isn't a single smooth pick-up line in his brain, which is offensive if Scar does say so himself, because he always has words. He could wax poetic about a frying pan for an hour just to annoy someone, but now that his skills are put to the test he can't hold on to his wits long enough to use them.

Goodness gracious, but she's beautiful.

She's wearing something pink and small, a cut-off that reveals a slender torso and adorable bellybutton, the sleeves long and flowy but off the shoulders. Her skirt is a lighter shade of pink, cutting off just above her knees, and it looks like just the kind of skirt that she could spin in and it would twirl along perfectly with her, the kind that sort of looks like a cupcake wrapper.

Scar's always wanted to wear that kind of skirt.

How long has he been staring at her?

"Hi," he manages, readjusting his sweaty grip on his cane. "Um. Come here often?"

She rolls her eyes.

It's breathtaking.

"Sorry, worst line in the book and all that," Scar excuses himself. "Can I order you another drink, then?"

She glances at the half-full drink she's been slowly working her way through. "I'm good, thanks," she says, and Scar nearly swoons.

The angel talked to him!

And her voice! Fluttery, but something deeper underneath! Textured like a symphonic piece of music, as soft as the faux fur carpets in the back of department stores!

She's perfect.

"I'll just cut straight to the point," Scar says, trying valiantly to not feel light-headed. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. May I take you out on a date?"

She blinks.

"You don't even know me," she says, leaning back down to take a dainty little sip out of the straw.

"No, but I want to," Scar reasons. "Can I get you anything? Some chips? A little umbrella?"

"The umbrellas come with the cocktails," she scoffs. She flicks her hair over her shoulder and Scar definitely doesn't almost fall over. "I'm not in the mood for a cocktail."

Scar leans forward. "You can ask for an umbrella with any drink," he whispers, winking conspiratorially. "I always do."

"What is it you really want?" she says, sounding almost tired, and Scar puts his hand to his heart.

"I just want to take you out on a date, I swear, nothing else," he says. "Scout's honor."

"Scout's honor?"

"Troupe 2906," Scar says, lying through his teeth. He was never a scout. Well, he did Cub Scouts, but he never made it to Boy Scouts. And he definitely didn't have a troupe. "Once a scout, always a scout."

Almost reluctantly, she giggles (a sound like windchimes softly jangling), then pulls her phone out of the tiny white purse at her side. "All right, fine. What's your name?"

"Scar," he tells her, pulling out his own phone. He unlocks it with a quick swipe, then pulls up a new contact card and trades his phone for the angel's.

"Your phone looks like it got ran over," she observes, picking at the tape on the side.

"If you pull that tape off, it goes dead."

She stops picking at it.

Scar types in his number slowly with one finger, leaning against the bar as casually as he can manage. He's been standing for a minute too long, but he doesn't want to make her uncomfortable by sitting down.

When he's finished, he passes the phone back to her, receiving his own in return.

"I'll text you," he promises.

She laughs again, nods. "Okay."

The way she dismisses him—

The conversation is clearly over, based on the way she turns back to her drink, her lips once again pursed but this time turned up at the corners.

Scar hurries out as fast as his body will allow him, which isn't very fast even on the best days.

Once he's outside, out of view of her, he checks his phone.

The contact is there, ten exquisite digits.

And her name.

Ariana.

-

"Cub, do you mind if I have someone over? I need to opine."

Cub looks up from his laptop, then flinches away when Scar turns on the lights.

"Scar, do you know what time it is?" he gripes, putting a pillow over his face.

"It's not even midnight, mister, so don't pretend like this is late. You're always up at all hours of the morning, anyway."

"Why can't you opine to me?" Cub sighs.

"You don't opine back! I need someone who will wallow on the floor with me."

Scar can practically hear Cub raise an eyebrow. "Ren?"

Scar grins. "Ren. He basically isn't even a guest, since he lives right above us. And it would only be for an hour at most!"

"Fine, fine," grumbles Cub, sitting up and setting his pillow to the side. "Call him. But I have a quiz tomorrow, so this better be quick."

Ren's over within five minutes, a two-liter of diet pepsi in one hand and a bag of candy in the other.

"Leftover Christmas candy, my dude," Ren says, tossing it on the floor. "You said you need to opine?"

Scar carefully lowers himself to sit on the floor, then flops down onto his back, his arms splayed out dramatically.

"Why are we doing this in my room?" groans Cub.

"I've seen an angel," Scar declares, and his heart flutters just the slightest bit.

"Ugh."

"Ooh!" Ren says, sitting cross-legged on the floor. "Tell me more."

"I was at the bar in Aquetown, right?" Scar starts, adjusting his arms to look more dramatic, one thrown over his forehead. "The good one. The quiet one."

"Right," nods Ren. "I know it well."

"And there she was," Scar says reverently. "The angel."

"What was her name? What happened? What did she—"

"Her name is Ariana," Scar breathes, the name as sweet on his lips as he knows her kiss would be. "She's perfect."

"Did you get her number?" Cub asks boredly.

Scar scoffs. "Of course I got her number! We're going on a date."

"Oooo!" Ren teases, slapping his shoulder. "My man has a date with a pretty girl!"

"She isn't just a girl," Scar says dreamily. "She's an angel. You should've seen her, Ren! If God himself turned up and told me that there had been a mistake, that she was supposed to be in heaven, I wouldn't have even blinked! She—"

"Yeah, she's a beautiful angel, we get it," interrupts Cub. "Can you do this in the living room?"

"What color are her eyes?" Ren asks.

"Grey . . . I've never met anyone with grey eyes. Not like those."

"What did she say? Is she into you?" Ren shakes his head. "What am I saying? Of course she's into you! Who wouldn't be?"

Scar. . . .

Scar hadn't even thought about that.

He'd just been so preoccupied with getting a date with such a perfect woman, he hadn't even thought about whether or not she might want one with him.

What if she secretly hates him?

What if she just told him yes to get him to go away?

"No, it's okay," Ren says quickly, patting his arm. "Don't cry! She's totally into you, dude! Don't even worry about it!"

"What if she isn't?" Scar asks, the hand thrown over his head moving to tug at his hair. "What if I was bothering her? What if she gave me a fake number?"

"No, dude, it's not—"

"Scar," Cub says, kneeling down on the floor beside him, "look at me."

There are already tears welling up in Scar's eyes when he looks up, straight into Cub's dark, unyielding eyes.

"Any woman would be lucky to have you," he says seriously. "If she was lying, that's her loss. Got it?"

Reluctantly, Scar nods, wiping away a tear with the heel of his palm.

Cub claps him on the shoulder. "Now get out of my room."

-

"Mumbo! Mumbo, you're never gonna guess—"

"In here!" Mumbo calls from their shared bedroom.

Grian shuts the front door and locks the deadbolt, then dashes down the short hall—past Pearl's empty bedroom—until he arrives at his own room. He shuts and locks that door behind himself as well, then leans against it, hands splayed on the old poorly-painted wood.

"Mumbo," he breathes. "Mumbo, it happened."

Mumbo is lying on his stomach on the floor, sleep shirt riding just a bit up his back from clear readjustments of position. He pushes his laptop a bit away, shuts whatever textbook he'd been studying, and rubs his eyes.

"You look cute," Mumbo says when he's done rubbing his eyes, blinking blearily at Grian. "Is that a new skirt?"

Grian stands up straight for a moment, twirls it back and forth. "Yeah, it's one of my new favorites, I think. Do you like it?"

"Looks great," says Mumbo. "Good show tonight?"

"It was fine, but that doesn't matter!" Grian falls back against the door again, letting himself slide all the way to the floor. "Mumbo, it finally happened. A man asked me out."

"No way!" Mumbo cheers, sitting up. "Like, legitimately? He thought—"

"He thought I was a girl and he asked me out!" Grian says. "This is the best day of my life. Nothing can top this."

"After—wait, after the performance? Or before? Because you think he'd know, after the performance, that it was drag, but maybe—"

"Oh, no, no, no," Grian waves him off. "This was at a different bar. I stopped by that one in Aquetown—you know, the dead one?—just on my way back, to try and get a decent drink before heading home. And he just came over to me—Mumbo, he called me the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen."

"Dude!" Mumbo waves his arms around like Kermit the Frog. "I think—I think we need to celebrate! Break out the ice cream, dude, because it's time to throw a party!"

Grian just breathes slowly, chest lifting and falling dramatically. He feels just like a girl in the movies after kissing her date goodbye, only better. More giddy, if that’s possible.

It's getting late, though. He should probably slip out of his heels, take out his hair extensions, wipe off his make-up, take off his boobs, change into pajamas. . . .

Or he could go eat ice cream in their tiny kitchen with Mumbo and animatedly recount every moment of the night.

Which is how Grian finds himself eating ice cream in their tiny kitchen with Mumbo, animatedly recounting every moment of the night.

"He has a cane," Grian remembers suddenly, halfway through telling Mumbo exactly what he'd said for the third time. "It was one of those old-fashioned ones. With the golden handle?"

"Okay, so he's, like, the rich heir of a mansion," Mumbo nods. "You could do a lot worse. Unless he was old—was he old?"

Grian shrugs. "I don't think so. He looked pretty young—he had a scar across his cheek, actually, kind of like—like this—"

He traces along his own cheek, starting from his jawbone, curving up a bit almost to his nose.

Mumbo frowns. "A scar? I think—"

The front door of the apartment opens, and in trudges Pearl, kicking off her muddy boots.

"Pearl!" Grian says excitedly, holding out his scraped-up plastic bowl, a couple of bites of melting ice cream still left. "We're having ice cream to celebrate!"

Pearl drops her blue backpack on the floor of the living room (right beside the front door, the dead carpet there dividing it from the tiled entrance space that leads into the kitchen). She looks first to Grian, then Mumbo, then the carton of vanilla ice cream on the kitchen counter.

"Sounds like a party!" she says, sticking her hands in her hoodie pockets. "You both look nice!"

"Oh! Um, thanks!" Mumbo says, while Grian does a little spin, his skirt lifting in the air (not that Pearl can see, standing on the other side of the counter as she is).

"A man asked me out," Grian tells her. "While he thought I was a woman!"

"Well, of course he did! You make a very pretty girl, Grian."

"Yeah, but you have to say that. You're my sister. He called me the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen."

"Awww," Pearl coos. She comes around the counter, pulls a chipped bowl out of the dishwasher (used to dry dishes, not wash them) along with a spoon, which she uses to load some ice cream into the bowl before sticking a spoonful in her mouth.

"What was his name?" she asks around the ice cream, words muffled.

Grian frowns. "I don't remember. He didn't write it in the contact. That isn't important, though—he asked me out!"

"Are you going to go?"

Grian freezes.

Is he going to. . . ?

"Oh no," he says, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. "I—I didn't even think about that."

"Think about what?" Mumbo asks, scraping his spoon along the side of his bowl.

"I don't want to go on a date," Grian says. Oh, this is dreadful! "I just liked the attention! What do I do, Mumbo? I gave him my number and everything!"

Pearl scoffs. "You gave him your number? You're basically required to go on a date with him. If you give a man your real number, it means you're interested."

"Did you tell him you'd go on a date with him?"

Grian cringes. ". . . Maybe?"

"Grian!"

"I can't help it!" Grian defends. "I love flirting, you know that!"

Mumbo covers his face, bowl abandoned on the counter.

"Grian," Pearl bemoans.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. . . ."

"Well, we'd better hope he's a creep!" Mumbo says loudly, face still buried in his hands. "Because then you don't have to feel bad about ditching the date!"

"Was he nice?" asks Pearl.

Grian shrugs helplessly. "I guess? He tried to give me a drink umbrella."

"Oh. So, very drunk."

"No, I think he just wanted me to have one."

"Goodness, Grian. You've got yourself in a bit of a situation," Mumbo says, finally emerging from his hands. He looks into his bowl, frowns at the lack of ice cream.

"Maybe he'll forget about it?" Grian suggests, but his heart isn't really in it.

He doesn't have much hope. Not with the way the man had talked to him. No, he's probably just set himself up for a month of progressively creepier and more disgusting texts until he blocks the man and files a 'do not contact' directive with the school.

Assuming this man is a student.

What if he's, like, an old man? 

Like, thirty?

Okay. This is too much.

Hopefully, he just doesn't text. Then Grian won't have to worry about it. Which won't happen, but he can dream.

"We can talk more about it tomorrow, all right?" Mumbo says, tossing his bowl in the sink. "It's getting late. And G, you should probably put your, er, appendages away."

"My bosom?" Grian says, raising an eyebrow.

"His tittie-tatties?" Pearl suggests.

"My breastily breasting boobs?"

"His badonka donk—"

"Please just get them off the counter."

[themalhambird]

Considering Celebrimbor is the ONLY one of the main elves we never saw Adar interact with, my brain is doing a really good job of locking onto the idea of a Celebrimbor x Adar Political Marriage AU.

No, I don't know exactly how that would come about - something something elves and uruks united against The Shadowy Threat of Sauron whatever. Celebrimbor looks *hard* at Gil-galad when he asks if he would agree to it and is just...."If I say yes do you promise to give me Many Forge Supplies for a wedding present?"

Adar, for his part, isn't exactly interested in having a husband so much as the PRINCIPLE of it being openly acknowledged he's good enough for an Elf-Lord. Anyway they get married, discover over the course of the wedding dinner that they actually find each other interesting company, and proceed to have a cordial acquaintence with Adar staying at Eregion far more than he anticipated, like he'll stomp up to the forge with a really big sack over his shoulder and all the elves are eyeing him warily and he just dumps it at Celebrimbor's feet like: "here's a load of old and broken armour for you to play with only some of it was stolen directly from corpses" and Celebrimbor's all "Lovely now come and look at this, I've was thinking about the whole sunshine problem your children have and what started out as a thought exercise accidently became detailed schematics for enormous mobile rooftops you can extend before making camp so that the shade covers you even in daylight. "

Anyway. It takes them far too long to realise that they're actually into each other. Adar's letting Celibrimbor braid his hair and Celibrimbor's letting Adar make him go to bed if he's been working for too many hours straight and they're still referring to eachother as "possibly something of a friend" Eregion elves and the Uruks who set up base in Eregion's vicinity whenever Adar goes to see Celebrimbor are actually starting to interact with each other by virtue of having "how are they this oblivious about it?????" as a conversation starter.

Eventually Adar has an "oh no he's hot" moment and promptly flees Eregion because he's convinced Celebrimbor would be repulsed If he actually tried anything romantic and /or sexual. Celebrimbor is puzzled and hurt, but a stranger comes to Eregion and affords a little distraction.

This Annatar fellow is so very interested in the mithrael rings Celebrimbor made to reflect the light of the Valar, though Celebrimbor's not sure he follows his reasoning for sets to be made for either dwarves or men. Still, pleasent company. Until he starts suggesting that Gil-Galad debased Celebrimbor and his authority by forcing him into marriage with an orc, at which point Celebrimbor punches him in the face without thinking...

Merdarnia and the other smiths are very exasperated that "I think I'm in love with Adar" is somehow a bigger revelation to the Lord of Eregion than "I punched Annatar in the face and he turned out to be Sauron, he has now taken over the city and is holding us hostage."

[valjeancrazylover2]

Javert's Inspirations

So, neither option won that poll, so I'm making this post first. This is probably going to be me ranting more about Javerts I like than actually talking about my own Javert.

The characterisations of other characters have been taken from either one primary source, musical actor, or my own personal take. For example, Cosette is mainly inspired by the 1982 film, but has some influence from musical actresses such as Beatrice Penny-Touré.

Exeptions to this is the versions of the characters post-barricade, as from there is where my story mainly diverges, as most Javert & Valjean Live AUs do. Most of that is my own interpretation, since they are no longer in "normal" circumstances.

As such, Javert has been very fun to work on, because there have been many different characterisations that I find VERY entertaining. They all seem to lean into one aspect of his character more than the others, which makes him... strangely versatile, for such a rigid character?

So... what does this mean for my favourite baldie?

-

Let's start with the guy who started it all, and my blog icon: Todd Alan Johnson. There will be several musical Javerts listed here, but nobody was doing it like TAJavert. I blame him in part for getting me into Les Mis, as I had been a fan of TAJ for a while, when I stumbled across him in 2021 in Little Shop of Horrors as Orin Scrivello (my favourite character - can you tell I like villains). After being introduced to Les Mis through the work experience I was doing in Feb 2024, i revisited TAJ, finding out he had in fact played Javert - first in the third national US tour, and a few other times in smaller productions.

Thats when I found the pictures from Surflight's 2013 production.

And thus Chauvert was cemented in the brain. simply couldnt have it any other way. he just HAD to be bald. Because of this, and at the time I began designing him I didn't know anybody else who played Javert (this would later be changed when I saw stewart clarke live, but nothing really changed after that except for the javert bug eye truth to be solidified)

I really wish there was more footage of this production past these photos, because I NEED more of his bald head as Javert. And look at those sideburns! They're all-natural! Plus, i thought his face was a good fit in general for Javert. It's less obvious with his sideburns, but he's got that big jaw, talks with his bottom teeth showing, intense eyebrows, big buggy eyes when he wants them to be.

Pic from him as Sweeney Todd. My Javert's face is just a heavily cariacaturised version of his.

Additionally, I'm sure you're all familiar with jadenvargen/melancholyarchivist's art. I was a fan before, so finding out there was les mis art too was huge. My Javert was always a bit on the larger side, but that one drawing with Javert and Valjean labelled something like "tremendously large man" and "bigger even huger man" or whatever, cant find the piece right now. anyway that definitely confirmed for me that they were BOTH gonna be built and fat, rather than the lanky javert that I see most people draw.

So, that was the foundation.

From here I'm not really sure in what order inspirations came, but next was probably Anthony Perkins in LM1978, because you just dont get more diva that that. We all know how much of a drama queen Javert is, and in fact Perkins was so good at this that the first thing I did after watching this film was go downstairs and ask my mother if Perkins was gay (to which she replied "Oh, absolutely flaming")

My inspiration for Javert usually comes from small, inconsequential little actions or demeanour that catch my eye... Perkins had plenty, as well as a ring on his finger, which I always forget to draw, but my Javert is supposed to have.

Here's a select few bits I like of his, that have directly influenced my Javert. There's probably more, but I can't remember off the top of my head.

1) the walk. 2) the way he hold's the cane??

3) this whole scene, but specifically the there is no monsieur in this room! there is only a scoundrel! line. 4) the way he reacts to finding out valjean is still alive. VERY similar to how it goes down in my canon, just in a different setting/scenario.

outside of 1978, there havent really been any non-musical adaptation Javerts that have particularly stood out to me. I havent watched 1998 but he doesnt look like he'd be like my Javert, and 1982 despite being my favourite adaptation ... did not have the most memorable Javert.

Even in the radio dramas, which i love to death, don't really have much influence over my Javert, since I already have a very clear idea in my head of his speech, and most inspiration comes from visuals. the CBS radio drama probably comes the closest to the way he speaks, though. (his voiceclaims are either roger allam, todd alan johnson, or some random french guy with a really deep voice who came up on my instagram feed once. yes, I'm serious, my javert sounds like that.)

My javert is not exactly expressive, or outwardly "sassy", per se? I think he's more subtly camp, perhaps with the way he stands sometimes. Don't worry, he's still the absolute drama queen he is in the brick, with "would you like my hat?" and all, but he delivers it in a much more flat way. that's why I don't exactly look at the way perkins delivers "monsieur, monsieur le inspector now!" for my javert. yes, he'd say that, but with a little less visible sass, if that makes sense.

Pre-seine, he's expressive in his own way. whenever he loses control a little he's prone to getting visibly angry; distressed (see: losing valjean when chasing him through paris); when you can see him setting his jaw with a visible vein in his head, short-tempered and curt; or that sort of sinister glee with his "bark" of a laugh or patronising sneer. But other than that... you've gotta hear it in his voice. Sorry to all the cuntvert fans out there, my Javert tries to keep it professional when he can, but he's still trying to out-diva everyone at any given opportunity!

So we return to musical Javerts, then.

I've seen a few, so it's hard to gauge who's had an actual effect and who hasn't. There are a few I do know for a fact I have taken little bits from:

Terrence Mann is familiar to everyone I'm sure. sass-central, which contradicts the above paragraph, but he does it in a wonderfully weird and kind of menacing way which i LOVE. My javert leans more into that menacing side of things. He's always JUST in the shadows, just so that you might not notice him, but if you were wary of authority, you'd see him lurking. his stature, you might think would make him a bit lumbering, but he's shockingly agile and snakelike. Think of a tiger. (oh yeah, shere khan from the jungle book is another inspiration i guess, but I won't include him here - we know.) Terrence Mann is delightfully snide and insane and I love it.

Gifs of small bits of his performance I like.

And his soliloquy? oof.. believably absolutely losing his mind.

The Javert who has probably influenced mine the most is Hartwig Rudolz, from the german Duisburg production in the 90s. He's commanding, he's dignified and haughty, he's even got the sinister chipperness about him from time to time (he's chummy with Madeleine in the cart scene, even laughing and smiling with him. While not really my Javert, it's worth a mention. Also does a condescending chuckle when Thenardier asks to be let go before Stars.)

More gifs of bits I like!

Bonus gif, cus that wig is loooong!

Three more would be Nic Greenshields, Jordan Simon Pollard and Michael Ball. They are all great Javerts (which might be a hot take, I'm not sure if ballvert is popular but I've been a fan of his for 5 years so maybe i'm biased.) I can't say TOO much on Nic and Michael acting-wise, because Michael Ball has only been in the arena tours, and the footage ive seen of Nic Greenshields is not the GREATEST quality - but they all have an air of haughty dignity about them, which obviously i try to give my Javert.

Jordan I've had the pleasure of seeing in person, twice, as well as meeting the guy. He's been the understudy for a while. He takes quite an expressive approach to Javert, using mainly his eyebrows, which i definitely think makes up most of my Javert's expressiveness. He really knows how to use his face to act - seriously, I can barely believe it's the same guy ! He usually has quite a furrowed brow, with his chin jutting out a little, standing with his chest puffed out. He's 6'3, and quite broad-chested (seeing as he works out) so you can imagine what kind of a presence that creates.

Both Nic and Jordan, being in the same production (Jordan was Nic's u/s in the UK tour, is now Stewart Clarke's on the West End) had this moment, but after Thenardier asks to be let go, on "it was me what told you so!", they turn and step forward so that Javert is basically chest-to-face with Thenardier (and the guy playing him at the time was like, a foot shorter than the both of them). I liked that a lot. Absolutely something my Javert is doing. He's got the height and the tits for it, there's no way he isn't, cmon

Also, both Nic and Michael also have the benefit of being broader than most Javerts, Nic especially, as he stands at a whopping 6'6, so he's a SERIOUS presence onstage. My javert is around that margin at 6'6-6'7, so that checks.

I know a lot of people say Ballvert is "too cute" or whatever, and i'd totally agree as a michael ball fan, but if you ignore the fact it's Michael Ball, i think he seems a bit more "unsuspectingly cruel" than outwardly intimidating. While this doesn't exactly reflect my Javert, he DOES have some good bits. From my notes when I saw him in the arena tour:

the wway he takes off his gloves in the confrontation was not only kinda sexy (sorry) but a bit foreboding. he has a nice amount of sass, which of course is always appreciated. his general attitude in Stars, too, like he's truly earnest, and someone mentioned how he sings it like a love song - yuuup. His soliloquy is also amazing, the way he portrays Javert as being just so scared of what's happening, but lapsing into anger... ouuh.

I have not fully planned out my Javert's suicide (attempt) yet, how he would be responding, but I've been leaning into the more fearful approach. I mean, his entire worldview has been shattered like that, the entire structure of which he built his life on has just crumbled in front of him, i'd be frightened too.

Anyway, random detail - if you were interested in the origin of Javert's scar, like, from a meta perspective:

Adam Robert Lewis, of course, with his cool nose scar.

My javert had a scar anyway, just a small cut on the lip, probably from a nasty hit to the face which never quite healed right and scarred, but something about ARL's scar really worked... so the scar extended a few inches up the face. It's changed places since then, originally going from the lip to the nose, then from the lip to below the eye, but now it's branched off to both. I still don't have a specific origin for the scar in canon, so you can make one up yourself.

Linking to that scar, and also linking back to Michael Ball - i mistook a shadow on his eye for a burst blood vessel, and thought it would be an interesting look for my Javert. I'm a sucker for temporary details (Javert's moustache post-msurm, for one), so I've given him a bad eye for early M-sur-M. Very recent development.

HONORABLE JAVERT MENTIONS, THAT INSPIRED ME SLIGHTLY OR CEMENTED A SPECIFIC IDEA:

Stewart Clarke. He was the first I physically SAW, and also the one I've seen the most, since he's the current West End Javert. Very good javert, unsettling with those eyeballs, very spitty, which I totally forgot to mention is also an integral part to my Javert. So, thanks Stew! His soliloquy is also just out-of-this-world, seriously. Seek out a recent audio of his if you haven't heard him. He's nuts.

Jeremy Secomb. Sir Eyeballs Supreme. If you want a Javert with an unsettling stare, he's your guy. And he's currently the Bishop in the arena tour! What a way to convince Valjean to be a good guy, just staring him down with your evil fucking peepers. When partnered with Peter Lockyer, they form THE valvert duo, they kissed on video in costume, so many cute photos of them together, and they LOOK the parts. Jeremy looking like those toys you sqeeze and their eyes pop out vs Peter's soft face and kind smile like a golden retriever or something. Seriously perfect.

Nick Rehberger. Current US Javert. Great at really minor acting choices, sassy man apocalypse. Very dignified. VERY handsome. Bit gay. Amazing voice. What more could you want?

Roger Allam. Now, I'm getting a bit ahead of myself here. I've already mentioned he's one of the 3 people I cycle through for my Javert's voiceclaim, and there's like NO (publically available) footage of him. I am planning on viewing the footage they do have, but that's some time in the future. The OLCR is my personal listening choice when I'm listening to the musical soundtrack, so Allam is kind of burned into my brain. I know it probably sounds crazy but the way his voice sounds really influenced the way I have Javert physically speak, with his heavy jaw. Anything about his specific physicality is completely imagined - but hopefully not for long.

Chris Murray. Another german Javert I really like, from a 2007 nonrep production. If you like unhinged Javerts with eyeballs for days, he's your man. He's also just greatly unsettling. He almost made the cut with gifs, but unfortunately Terrence Mann won out. He was just a little TOO chipper about things. But i do love how his amiability is very obviously a ruse, with the way he holds a stiff smile in The Robbery on "But where's the gentleman gone / And why on Earth did he run?" (or, the German lyrics, whatever. It's that part of the song.)

Preston Truman Boyd. One part only. He's the reason I gave Javert a moustache and weird little chin beard thing post-msurm. I just thought that was important enough to get a mention, other than that I haven't really seen much of him enough to say.

ANYWAY, that's about it !!

There's probably more i've missed, but it's 5.30am right now, and I'm flagging. Plus, the post is long enough as is.

If you've read this far, I gotta know - who's your favourite Javert, or at least top 5? Have they influenced the way you view Javert in any way?

If you're like me and like taking tidbits from different sources, what are yours? Im curious to know !!! PLEASE tell me!!!!!!

Much love to my favourite bald freak <3

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Jason Todd Week Special! Day 2

A/N: this unofficial mini-chapter is part of the event being run by @jasontoddweek2025 and can be enjoyed without reading the rest of the story

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, let me know if I missed anything worth tagging!

warnings/labels: trauma nightmares, non-explicit mentions of character death and violence

wc: 724

CIGYN? Chapter Selection

-at some point between chapters 9 and 10-

Jason was frequently a fitful sleeper, tossing and clinging and squeezing me. He didn't sleep over often, but when he did we settled into a bit of a routine easily enough. We dozed off, my back pressed against his chest. When his tossing woke me I would turn over and stroke his hair and kiss the top of his head until he settled down, and that was usually enough. I would go back to sleep, and in the morning he made breakfast.

His nightmares were usually accompanied by soft murmurs at most. So my brain took a minute to process the sound of a hoarse scream behind me as I woke in the dark. Jason was trembling, I could feel it, and gasping sharply as if he couldn't breath.

When I realized what had woken me, I jumped up, flipping over. “Jay??”

He jolted, flinching back. “D- Don't!”

“... O- ok. It's gonna be ok, Jason. … I'm just gonna turn on the lamp, ok?” I whispered, slowly reaching for the bedside table.

He slowly nodded, and I flipped the switch. The green flecks in his eyes had taken on an electric quality, making the deep blue of his eyes look darker and duller. He watched me like a cornered animal, curled in on himself in a little ball.

“... Was it a nightmare?” I whispered. He shifted, grimacing slightly, and nodded. “... Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

I nodded slowly. “Do you want to cuddle?”

He blinked a bit, taking slow, deep breaths. “... I … I just … I need a minute.”

“Ok. I'll go get you a glass of water.” He nodded slowly, and I went to the kitchen.

I took my time, humming softly to myself, and pretended not to hear the muffled sobs coming from the bedroom. The sounds died down, and I brought a glass of water and a canister of trail mix. I continued humming, so he would hear me coming, and by the time I returned he was sitting up, leaning against the headboard. Jason's cheeks were a bit pink, but otherwise he looked ok.

I smiled softly, offering him the glass. “I brought something to nibble on too, in case you want it.”

He took the glass, breathing slowly. “... Why?”

“Having a snack is grounding. It can help your nervous system remember that you're somewhere safe, cause if you weren't you wouldn't have stopped to eat.”

“Huh…” he sipped the water, gesturing for me to sit next to him.

I smiled brightly, climbing into bed, and he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “... Sorry I woke you …”

“Don't be sorry, baby. I got you, and you got me, right?”

He nodded slowly, leaning against me more. “... Still sorry…”

I ran my fingers through his hair gently; “I'm glad you didn't have to wake up alone.”

He sighed softly, setting the glass aside and wrapping his arms around my waist. “... Can … can I just … lay here? And you keep doing that?”

“Of course, Jay, anything.” I stroked his hair more, and he rested his cheek against my tummy.

After a few minutes, he sniffled softly. I gently massaged his scalp; “are you sure you don't want to talk about it?”

“... I just … I can still hear him laughing … he's taunting me …” he sniffled, clinging to me more. “... I can't make him stop … he's just in my head now …”

I frowned deeply, holding him close. “... He's not here, Jay. I won't let him hurt you ever again. I promise.”

He chuckled weakly. “... Batman couldn't even save me … what can you do that he couldn't?”

I leaned down to kiss the top of his head, whispering; “Batman has a very strict no killing policy. … I have made no such vow.”

He blinked a bit, looking up at me slowly; “... You … you would try to …?”

“If he was here in front of me, there isn't a force on this planet that could stop me.” I pushed his hair out of his eyes. “He doesn't get to chase you into my home and make you feel unsafe.”

Tears filled his eyes as he buried his face against me. I continued stroking his hair, humming softly until he finally dozed back off.

Jason Todd Week Taglist: @cottage-worm

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Fanart in the header by: @crowkip

[randomized-sims24]

He love himb bug

[natti-ice]

18+ mdni

lewd visual link!! (twitter)

cw: free use, oral

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

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You’re laying on top of your bed reading your favorite book, you’re so immersed in the fictional world you don’t hear the click of your door open, your boyfriend just came home from a long day at the office. Having to be professional all day has always exhausted him and you know exactly how he likes to unwind, you jump slightly as you come back to reality at the touch of his fingers on the back of your bare thigh, “shh, it’s just me baby,” his deep voice instantly soothes your nerves.

Goosebumps form all over your body as his hands wander up, he palms your ass through your skirt before lifting it up to expose your bare ass, a soft breath falls from his lips, “such a good girl, always keeping yourself accessible.” He praises, noting your lack of under garments. “Looks like that little pussy is already wet for me.” You hear the soft thud of his knees hitting the floor and can’t help but let out a soft yelp as he pulls your lower half towards the edge of the bed. You can feel your clit throbbing with anticipation as his breath ghosts across your aching core, that book you were reading is long forgotten.

A needy whimper leaves your mouth as his tongue makes contact with your cunt, your legs tremble from the immediate pleasure that courses through your body, the vibrations of his hums of satisfaction sends shocks of pleasure to your clit. “I’ve been thinking about this all day, my favorite meal.” He says against your flesh and begins to devour your core with hunger, your brain completely turns off as your body is taken over by pleasure. His tongue knows your body better than you do, every little flick sends you closer to the edge. You reach around and grip a handful of his hair as you feel yourself start to come, your whole body shakes violently when you go over the edge. He holds you steady as he finishes lapping up your juices before slowly pulling back, “I needed that, baby, thank you.” He says softly and places a soft kiss on your ass cheek before pulling your skirt back down, standing up, and getting on the bed beside you.

[amazinglyashy]

Too heavy for me? Never

LADS men reaction to you only somewhat joking about being too heavy for them

Sylus -

He'll raise an eyebrow at you, staring down at you as you realize the joke fell flat. You try to back peddle, not wanting to cause any confrontation that never helps you feel better about your body anyway, but he simply holds up a hand to stop you with a shake of his head.

"I don't want to hear it, sweetie. I already know the nonsense you're going to say. How about you just come with me right now to the gym instead?"

You don't know how to tell him that saying that truly shattered your heart into a million pieces, so you just follow him in silence instead. You didn't think he would insult you so casually, and you were now trying to brace yourself for the inadequate feelings and self-loathing you were about to experience by having to train at the gym with him.

But... he didn't ask you to do a workout. He didn't tell you to get on a piece of equipment or to lie down on a mat for a physical exercise.

He told you to sit on a small bench against the wall while he went to the free weights close by.

Wordlessly, he loads weights- two- no, three times your weight onto the bar, before moving to lift it. Once. Twice. Again, and again and again-

His eyes flicker over to you at some point, and instead of making any remark or reference to the emotions clear across your face, he flashes you a slight smirk, just like he always does.

"Have I made myself clear, sweetie?"

Zayne -

Zayne will definitely think you're just pretending to be stupid at first.

He will look down at you with his brows furrowed and a small smile creeping on his lips, thinking it's all a joke.

"I lift myself during my workouts fairly easily, and I am capable of lifting a lot more. Quite funny, though I wouldn't make this form of humor a habit. It isn't particularly good for your mental health."

Then he realizes you're actually being serious in what you're saying.

He's upset, to put it lightly, but hes trying not to let it show. Favoring a small frown across his usually firm expression as he studies your face. Your heart will jolt just a little bit when you process just how sad his eyes look though... obviously he's hurt that you would even think something like that about yourself, much less come to believe it as true.

"Allowing a part of your brain to lie to you is not healthy if you don't push back with the truth. And the truth here, is that you are nowhere near too heavy for me to lift or carrying, even for prolonged periods of time. To demonstrate-"

And like it's nothing, he's picking you up and carrying you. His destination is not important, and the protests spewing from your lips fall on deaf ears as you try to gentle squirm out of his grasp. He'll continue to explain why your viewpoint is flawed, methodically and with logic, and in a way that you find yourself unable to argue back.

He doesn't want you to.

He knows you're wrong, and he will stop at nothing to prove it.

Xavier -

He's more surprised at the statement than anything. At first, he thinks you're making a jab at his strength, and wonders if he slipped up in front of one too many Wanderers and now needs to prove himself just to get you to stop teasing him for being 'weak'.

Once he (quickly) realizes that you're talking about yourself, jabbing at your own body and state, rather than at him, it's like a spark igniting in him.

"What? What would ever make you think that? No- that's not right. That's not right at all."

He's immediately going to try and grab you to lift you up, he doesn't care where you both are or what you're doing. Even if you've just woken up in bed and are still relaxing, he's trying to pick you up right then and there.

He stumbles trying to lift you, falling backward onto the pile of blankets and plushies that has taken over his bed. He feels awful, worried that you'll take his misstep as him falling over from your weight, immediately apologizing and trying to sit up and pick you up again before falling forward from the plush surface he's trying to rise on giving out too much beneath him.

You're both a giggling mess by then, and it's obvious to you that he's going to keep trying to prove it to you, just... a bit clumsily so. Several more attempts will be made as the evening goes on, and pretty soon he's showing you just how easily it is for him to lift you up- especially if he keeps doing it over and over and over again.

And he will continue to do it over and over and over again, even after today. As many times as it takes.

Rafayel -

You definitely made a mistake saying anything self-depreciating around him. Especially with how much he likes to prove you wrong in playful situations, this is something similar, but a lot more serious to him.

He'll make fun of you for anything, as long as you know he's just being lighthearted even if he's grumpy or upset when he fires a quip off at you.

But the second you agree with him, or say something bad about yourself- whether jokingly or dead serious- the gloves are off. He won't accept that from you, and he's already on it to figure out how to turn the opinion you've formed of yourself on it's head and into a more positive outlook.

Lifts you up bridal carry while spinning- quite literally sweeping you off your feet while he whisks you away. You would think you were a princess with how he spins around his studio with you in his arms, with no regard to the paintings or projects around him as he dances with you in his arms. And no matter how hard you protest, he doesn't stop until he feels for himself that he's done enough, giggling the entire time.

"Are you really going to doubt a sea god's strength? Geez, I didn't realize you were such a rude human."

He'll hold you up enough to press his forehead against yours, nuzzling against you with a smile, the slightest sadness playing across his expression.

"Man, I must be pretty lousy that you would ever think something like that about yourself. That must mean I don't think to pick you up enough like you deserve. Don't worry, I'll make it up to you by whisking you away every chance I see you from now on."

[diamonddaze01]

fleeing feelings

pairing: hvc x fem!reader | best friend!seungkwan genre: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, university au wc: 9.6k warnings: alcohol consumption (pls drink responsibly!!) a/n: for @k-vanity 's “falling for you” event! My prompts were London Fog (“You said what to who now?! Why?!”) and Pumpkin Spice Latte (“Excuse me, but is this seat taken?”) // enormous thank you to @cheolism for the most gorgeous banner // and thank you to my lovely betas @lovetaroandtaemin and @tusswrites

summary: so you might have told vernon you loved him while drunk – now all you have to do is avoid him. forever. 

The headache is real.

It feels like someone decided your skull was the perfect canvas for a jackhammer. Each throb sends waves of pain coursing through your brain, and even the soft hum of the world outside your window seems like an assault on your fragile state. If it wasn’t for the fact that you’re pretty sure your last memory was of collapsing into your bed after a night of regrettable decisions, you’d swear you were dying.

You blink up at the ceiling, groaning as sunlight streams through the blinds, slicing through the dim room like a guilty conscience. Your eyes ache at the brightness, and you throw a hand over your face in an attempt to shield yourself from the assault. The cold sheets are a welcome contrast to the fire that’s raging inside your head.

You wish for sleep, but it doesn’t come. Instead, you're greeted by an annoyingly chipper voice, too loud for a Sunday morning at 11 a.m.

"Morning!" Seungkwan chirps, a little too cheerfully for someone who clearly has no understanding of the term hangover. He's holding a glass of water, like it’s the most exciting thing in the world, and you can't help but squint at him through half-closed eyes. He’s got that same gleeful smile on his face, looking way too awake for someone who shares an apartment with someone who just wants to die right now.

"Seungkwan, please... It’s too early for your brand of happiness," you croak, your voice hoarse and barely audible. Your throat feels like you swallowed sandpaper, and you barely have the strength to sit up.

"Well, it’s already late enough for me to help you feel better," he says with a grin that’s too wide to be genuine, handing you the glass of water and an aspirin like it’s some kind of miracle cure. "You don’t want to end up like last time, do you?"

You roll your eyes, trying to sit up but the world tilts dangerously. You clutch the glass like it might actually save you, your fingers trembling from the effort. "Last time?" you mutter, still a little too disoriented to make sense of anything. “I barely remember last night.”

Seungkwan’s grin stretches even wider. "Oh, last night was a memorable one," he says, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, like he’s got the best secret in the world.

You squint at him, struggling to keep your eyes open. "What do you mean by that?"

The moment it leaves your mouth, the memories come rushing back, one after another, like a broken dam finally giving way. You and Vernon had gone outside for some air, the cool night breeze refreshing against your skin. You remember the conversation turning quiet, the alcohol still buzzing in your veins, the way the breeze ruffled his hair, and then...

Oh god. Oh no.

You freeze, the blood draining from your face as your stomach drops. Your heart stutters in your chest as you try to piece it together. You had told Vernon you loved him. In your drunken haze, it had slipped out, but now? Now it feels like the kind of thing you would never, ever do if you weren’t so far gone on cheap whiskey and bad decisions.

You look at Seungkwan, your face crumpling in embarrassment. "I... I told Vernon... I told him I love him."

Seungkwan blinks at you, the shock clear on his face. For a second, it seems like he doesn’t even know how to respond. Then, his eyes widen comically, and a burst of laughter bursts from him. "You said what to who?!" He takes a step back, as if the sheer magnitude of your confession has physically knocked him off balance. "You confessed? To Vernon?" He cackles, his laugh loud and echoing in the quiet of your room.

You slump back against your pillow, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. You wish the floor would just swallow you up. "I didn’t mean to! I was drunk—okay?" you mutter, your words barely making it out.

Seungkwan is practically vibrating with laughter. "Oh my god, you actually did it," he says between fits of giggles. "That’s so—wait, wait. What did Vernon say back?"

And that’s when the panic sets in. You stare blankly at Seungkwan, your brain spinning. You want to remember, you need to remember what he said back, but it’s a complete blank. The memory of his face, his expression, even his words—they’re gone. As if it never happened. You feel a new wave of nausea rising in your stomach.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to speak. "I don’t remember," you confess, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

Seungkwan stops laughing, blinking at you like he’s just realized you might be serious. "What do you mean you don’t remember?" he asks, sounding more confused than before.

You press the heel of your hand to your forehead, trying to steady your dizzying thoughts. "I... I can’t remember what he said back. And that’s worse than not hearing anything at all."

Seungkwan’s face falters for a second, then the teasing glint returns in his eyes. "Well... you have to face him, right? He’s literally just down the hall," he points out, his voice softening as he sits on the edge of your bed. "And you’re gonna have to talk to him eventually. You can’t avoid him forever."

You frown, looking at him as if he's spoken a foreign language. "And why the hell not?"

Seungkwan leans in, his finger counting off the reasons like he’s been preparing for this moment his whole life. "One: he’s our best friend. Two: he lives down the hall, not in another universe. And three..." He pauses, dramatically. "He’s your BEST FRIEND."

You groan, rolling over and burying your face into your pillow, desperate to block out the light, the noise, and Seungkwan’s well-meaning logic. "You already said that," you mumble into the fabric, wishing the pillow could swallow you whole.

"I’m emphasizing," Seungkwan replies, sitting back in a huff. "Emphasizing that he knows you like the back of his hand, stupid. He’s not gonna let you avoid him."

You moan into the pillow. "I can’t even think about facing him right now, Seungkwan. Not today."

"Tough. You’re facing him eventually, whether you like it or not," Seungkwan says, but his voice softens, his hand brushing your back comfortingly. "But hey, I’m your best friend. I’m here to support you through whatever happens."

You just grunt in response, curling back into the pillow like it might somehow shield you from reality. "Great. As long as you’re here to watch me suffer."

Seungkwan grins, his voice full of mischief. "That’s the plan."

You can feel the weight of your poor life choices pressing down on you as you sit in the overpriced, over-crowded coffee shop, nursing the lukewarm disaster that is your latte. It's one of those days where everything tastes like regret—coffee included. Your laptop screen blurs as you try to focus on your prelab. You're supposed to be working, supposed to be productive, but all you can do is mentally list everything that went wrong in your life in the past 48 hours.

The lab professor? Completely useless. Your grade? Already plummeting. And as for the whole Vernon situation? Yeah, let's not talk about that.

You can feel the throbbing pain in your temples as your mind drifts back to that night—the confession that slipped out of your mouth when you were way too drunk. The look on Vernon’s face... God, you're so embarrassed. If there was a hole to crawl into, you’d dive right in and never resurface.

Beside you, Seungkwan is breezing through his own prelab, the same one you’re supposed to be working on, but it seems like he’s in a completely different world. As usual. He taps away at his laptop, his fingers moving in a rhythm like he’s been here for hours—when in reality, he probably hasn’t even started yet. You scowl at your laptop as the blinking cursor mocks you for not getting anything done.

You take a deep breath, trying to pull yourself together. "God, I hate this class. And I hate that professor," you mutter, rubbing your temples. "Why did I even sign up for this? Why is life like this?"

Seungkwan doesn’t look up from his screen, but you can hear the smirk in his voice. "Because you're a glutton for punishment. You're just mad because the only thing you're getting out of this lab is the overpriced coffee."

You huff, sloshing your latte around in its cup in a way that makes you wish you could just drown in it. "Yeah, well, I’m about to drown in this lab report if I don’t figure it out soon."

"Should’ve taken easier classes," Seungkwan snorts, and you shoot him a glare. He knows you better than anyone, and he knows you're not the type to shy away from a challenge. You don’t even have the energy to argue, so you let him win this one.

The door chimes as someone enters, and your focus breaks. You glance up, hoping it's just some random student walking in to grab their iced coffee, but no.

Of course not.

You hear that low, familiar voice, the one that makes your heart do a little flip. "Is this seat taken?"

No. No. Fuck.

There, standing by the table, looking like he belongs in some glossy magazine for college students who know how to look effortlessly cool, is Vernon. The guy you still haven’t figured out how to face after that monumental fuck-up of a confession two days ago. And now? Now he’s standing there, staring at you and Seungkwan with a hesitant smile, probably wondering if it’s safe to sit down or if you’re about to sprint out of here like a coward.

Seungkwan, the absolute bastard, beams at Vernon. "Oh no, it’s totally free," he says, too eager. He's so happy to make this as awkward as possible. You could almost feel the smugness radiating off him. "Come sit, Vernon. We could use the company!"

Your heart sinks into your stomach as Vernon takes the seat across from you, not missing the subtle shift in your posture. He looks at you with those eyes of his, eyes that are both too warm and too intense, and you feel a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. You can’t look at him. You can’t.

You force a smile, but it feels like you’re pushing your lips together with a crowbar. "Uh, yeah. Just working on it," you mumble, barely even aware of what you just said. Your brain is too busy doing its best to not short-circuit. You take another sip of your latte, hoping the caffeine will somehow pull you together. It doesn’t.

Seungkwan, the little devil, doesn’t help at all. He’s practically radiating glee, enjoying your discomfort far too much. "Yeah, Y/N here is just dying to finish her part of the report," he says, clearly trying to get a rise out of you. "But it's okay, she’s doing just fine! Aren’t you?" He shoots you a wink, but Vernon doesn’t catch it—thank God.

Your eyes flick to your screen, looking for any excuse to not talk to Vernon right now. You just need to not look at him. "Actually, I forgot something," you blurt out, standing up abruptly, not even thinking it through. "I just... I need to grab something. I’ll be back in a second."

You don’t wait for anyone to respond. You don’t even look at Vernon as you grab your bag and make a hasty retreat to the counter. Your heart is pounding in your ears, and your breath feels shallow. This was a terrible idea. Why did you invite him to work on the prelab in the first place? Was it because you wanted an excuse to spend time with him? To not feel so much?

You don’t know.

You leave the cafe altogether, your mind racing, and find yourself walking aimlessly for a few minutes, trying to cool off. The cold air outside stings your cheeks, but it’s a welcome distraction from the heat of embarrassment still flushing through your body.

You pull out your phone, needing something to take your mind off everything. It pings almost immediately with a message from Seungkwan:

Boo 🍊: so... how long are u gonna avoid him

You laugh weakly, but it’s more from disbelief than anything else. You text back quickly:

Y/N: i’m not avoiding him

Y/N: i’m just

Y/N: strategically distancing myself until i can look him in the eye without dying of shame

Boo 🍊: ur not gonna go back to the cafe because its too much?

Your phone dings again in quick succession. 

Boo 🍊: u realize ur only making it worse right

You squeeze your eyes shut, biting your lip to suppress a groan. Oh god, Seungkwan, shut up.

Y/N: i’m already halfway across campus

Y/N: oh well, can’t exactly go back now

Boo 🍊: he looks like you kicked him in the nuts and then ran away btw

Boo 🍊: i’m keeping him company 

Boo 🍊: ur not getting away with this btw i’m never letting u live this down

You exhale loudly, already feeling the weight of your decision in the pit of your stomach. What did you think would happen? You’ve messed this up royally. Again.

Y/N: I hate you so much.

Boo 🍊: no u don’t !  you’ll see him again soon. probably tomorrow

Y/N: fuck you

Boo 🍊: love u too! don’t worry i’ll handle this 

Boo 🍊: good luck with that prelab see u at home <3 

You slump your shoulders in defeat, staring at the screen of your phone. There’s no getting out of this. You’ve somehow managed to make this even more awkward. Of course, Seungkwan would drag it out. You wouldn’t expect any less from him.

You drag yourself back into the apartment, the weight of your failed escape attempt still heavy on your shoulders. The door slams behind you, and you sigh deeply, almost as if trying to shake the embarrassment off your body. You kick your shoes off and leave them by the door, your bag slung over your shoulder like a dead weight. You’re so done with everything.

The apartment feels like it’s mocking you—seemingly quiet, except for the hum of Seungkwan’s obnoxiously loud voice floating from the living room. You hear the faint click of his phone screen as you shuffle toward the couch. You can practically feel him smirking at your impending doom even before you see him.

Sure enough, when you walk into the living room, he’s lounging on the couch, sprawled across it in his usual dramatic fashion. He’s scrolling through his phone, one leg thrown over the side, looking like he hasn’t had a care in the world since he woke up. 

You throw yourself onto the couch next to him, feeling the familiar softness of the cushions sink beneath you. The weight of the last few hours presses down on your chest. It’s so comfortable here, but you can’t fully relax. Not with him sitting right next to you, clearly enjoying the aftermath of your spectacular mess.

“Don’t even say it,” you groan, pushing yourself into the cushions like they might swallow you whole.

He doesn’t even glance up from his phone. Instead, he lets out a small, knowing laugh. “So... how’s the avoidance game going?”

You just close your eyes for a moment, willing yourself to disappear. “I’m never leaving my room again. Ever.”

Seungkwan bursts into laughter, the sound filling the small apartment and bouncing off the walls. It’s enough to make your skin crawl, but you can’t help but feel a bit of a tug at your own lips. He’s genuinely enjoying your misery, and you hate it. “I mean, it’s been two days, and you’ve already chickened out at the café. That’s a solid record.”

You groan dramatically, rolling your head back against the cushion. “I didn’t chicken out. I just... needed a moment to not make eye contact with him, okay?”

“Sure, sure,” Seungkwan says, his voice laced with sarcasm. “That’s why you bolted out of there like a squirrel avoiding a hawk.”

You push his shoulder weakly, your fingers brushing over the soft fabric of his hoodie. “Shut up, Boo. You have no idea how embarrassing it was.”

“Of course I do,” he says smugly, setting his phone down on the coffee table with a soft thud. “I was the one trying to hold a conversation with Vernon while you were having your little meltdown across campus.”

“Can we please not talk about it?” You bury your face in your hands, muffling your groan of embarrassment.

Seungkwan’s voice is dripping with amusement. “Well, you better figure it out soon. You invited him to our café session, and now you’re running away from your own mess. It’s hilarious.”

You sit up, rubbing your face in exasperation. “I’m never going to be able to look him in the eye again.”

Seungkwan shrugs, his grin still wickedly satisfied. “Well, it’s not like you have much of a choice. I mean, unless you’re planning to live in that room of yours forever?”

You lean back against the couch, the soft fabric cool against your skin. You feel the weight of your thoughts settle in again, and with it, the overwhelming desire to hide from the world. “I can’t,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper. “He’s gonna know I’m avoiding him on purpose.”

“Yeah, he’s not that dumb,” Seungkwan says, flipping through his phone lazily. “But you know what? You could avoid him for a while. You just need to avoid... everything you’re supposed to do, forever.”

You turn your head slowly to look at him. “That’s your solution? Run away?”

“Pretty much,” Seungkwan says, completely unfazed. “But you have to be more creative. Maybe pretend you’re dead? Or like you have the plague?”

You snort, despite yourself, the idea so absurd that it almost lightens the mood. “Yeah, sure. I’ll just start wearing a sign around my neck: Please, don’t talk to me. I’m a walking disaster.”

Seungkwan grins, his eyes lighting up mischievously. “Honestly, I think it’s a good look for you.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t hold back a laugh. “You’re the worst.”

Seungkwan stretches out, his grin wide and smug. “Look, I saved you today, but don’t expect me to keep doing this forever. At some point, you’re on your own.” He reaches for his phone, ready to return to his lazy scrolling.

You sit up, the absurdity of the situation hitting you in waves. “Yeah, I’ll figure it out... eventually.”

Seungkwan gives you a side-eye. “Sure you will. But for now, enjoy the free ride, disaster queen.”

It’s just your luck that, of all people, Vernon is your lab partner today. The second your professor calls your name, you feel your stomach twist into knots. You swear your internal groan echoes in the hum of the fluorescent lights above you. Why him?

Across the lab, Vernon’s already tugging on his gloves, eyeing the instructions on the counter like he’s got his shit together. You can’t help but stare at him for a second, the way his hair falls messily across his forehead, the way he moves like he doesn’t have a care in the world. The thought of having to work with him makes you feel like you’ve been thrown into a pressure cooker, and you’re about to explode.

You try to focus, really, you do. But it’s impossible. Your brain keeps wandering back to him. His fucking hums. His stupid little smile. The way his dark eyes flicker up every now and then to make sure you’re still there. It’s like he knows exactly how much he’s fucking with your head, and the worst part? He’s probably not even trying.

A Bunsen burner hisses in the background, and the sound almost makes you flinch, like it's too loud in the otherwise quiet lab. You try to focus on the beaker in front of you. Try to just get through this. But it’s hard when all you can feel is the weight of his gaze on you.

“Got it, Y/N?” Vernon’s voice cuts through your thoughts. He’s leaning against the counter now, watching you with a lazy grin, like he knows what he's doing to you.

Your face flushes involuntarily, and you shoot him a tight smile, hoping to play it cool. “Yeah, got it,” you mumble, though your mind is a jumbled mess. Your hand shakes slightly as you pick up the pipette, and you swear he notices, but he doesn’t say anything. That’s even worse. You hate how easy it is for him to get under your skin.

It’s bad enough that you’re stuck with him, but now you’ve got to get through an hour-long experiment without combusting. The tension is palpable, and it’s making you want to crawl out of your skin.

But then, just as you’re about to lose it, you spot Seungkwan strutting back from the fume hood. You swear you can feel the relief hit your chest like a tidal wave. Perfect.

Seungkwan doesn’t seem to notice you until you’re already walking toward him, your feet moving on their own accord, desperate to make the switch. When he looks up, his gaze flickers over you, and that smirk creeps onto his lips. The one you know too well. The one that says, I’m going to fuck with you now.

“What’s up, Y/N?” he asks, popping his gum. “Need help with the chemical equations? Or is it more of a personal emergency?”

You throw your hands up, exasperated. “I need to switch lab partners, Seungkwan. Like, now.”

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Really? What’s wrong? Does Vernon’s inability to mix chemicals properly scare you, or are you just that tired of looking at his face?”

You grimace, frustration bubbling in your chest. God, why’s he gotta make it worse? “No, it’s just… I can’t focus with him staring at me every five seconds.”

Seungkwan’s smirk widens, and you can see the wheels turning behind his eyes. “Oh, so that’s what it is, huh? You’re not focused because Vernon keeps looking at you like you’re his personal chemistry experiment?”

Your heart rate spikes. Fuck off, Seungkwan. “Shut up, I’m being serious,” you mutter, but you can hear the hitch in your voice, and it makes you want to punch yourself in the face.

Seungkwan doesn’t let up, leaning in closer with that same cocky grin, looking far too pleased with himself. “Is that why you’ve been staring at him for the last five minutes, then?” he teases, and you swear you can hear the little giggle in his voice. “I didn’t realize we were doing that kind of experiment today.”

Your blood goes hot. “Stop it!” you hiss, but you can’t keep the embarrassed flush from spreading across your face. “I just need you to switch with me, Seungkwan. That’s it.”

Seungkwan chuckles lowly, clearly having way too much fun with this. “Oh, okay. So you want me to switch with you just because you can’t handle the heat, huh?” He taps his chin, like he’s thinking about it, but it’s obvious he’s already decided.

“Fine,” you say, voice low but firm. “But only if you actually want me to send that video of you drunkenly crying about chickens to the entire friend group. You remember that one, right? The one where you were saying, ‘Those chickens are my babies, I love them so much’?”

Seungkwan’s eyes widen, and for a second, you swear you see a flicker of panic. You almost smile, but you hold it in. Gotcha.

“No,” he says, shaking his head like he’s trying to backpedal. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I absolutely would,” you reply smoothly, crossing your arms. You can feel the smug grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. “So, how about it? You switch with me, or I make everyone’s day a little more interesting?”

Seungkwan looks around the room, clearly considering his options. He’s not stupid enough to let that video go public. “Okay, okay, fine. You win, Y/N. But you owe me for this one, big time.”

You give him a sweet smile. “Deal.”

Seungkwan walks over to Vernon, throwing his hands up dramatically. “Vernon, buddy, looks like you’re stuck with me as your partner today.”

You barely suppress a laugh as Vernon’s head jerks up in surprise. “Wait, what? Really?”

You take that as your cue and grab your stuff, moving toward Chan’s station. You’re feeling lighter already, knowing the rest of this class won’t be nearly as awkward. Chan’s a great guy—easygoing, level-headed, and most importantly, not Vernon. 

You set your bag down on the counter and look over at Chan, who’s already elbow-deep in his notes, completely unaware of the chaos you just caused. “Hey, Chan,” you say, forcing a cheerful tone despite everything. “Looks like we’re partners now.”

He looks up with a bright smile, oblivious to the fact that he’s been dragged into your mess. “Oh, hey, Y/N! Sounds good to me.” He’s so sweet and always so positive, but… well, the thing is, Chan could not for the life of him keep track of chemical reactions if his life depended on it. This could be the worst decision you’ve made today.

You sit down, a little defeated, as you adjust your gloves and open the instructions. You’re partnered with Chan now, but nothing feels quite right. As sweet as he is, chemistry might as well be a foreign language to him. You glance back over at Vernon’s lab station, which, of course, is conveniently located just a few feet away. You can hear the familiar sound of Vernon and Seungkwan’s voices drifting toward you, but you’re so not ready to face them just yet.

You feel your chest tighten as you try to ignore it, but then Vernon speaks again. “I don’t bite, Y/N,” he teases, his voice cutting through the air like a soft command. It’s casual, playful even, but it does nothing to stop the heat that floods your face.

You swallow hard, praying the blush on your cheeks isn’t visible. This is not the moment. Not the perfect moment to have him distract you. Your pulse picks up at the sound of his voice again, and you can almost feel his gaze on you. You don’t look back, but you know he’s probably waiting for a response.

“Y/N?” Chan says softly, his voice pulling you out of your mental spiral. “Are you okay?”

You quickly look away, feeling that familiar heat creeping up your neck. “I’m fine,” you mutter to yourself. “I’m fine.”

Your stomach flips as an idea strikes you—fake sick. You’ve done it before, and it’s a perfect way to buy yourself some time away from Vernon, maybe even the entire day.

Just get through this, and then you can run away forever.

Your body starts to tremble slightly as you put a hand to your forehead, doing your best to sound miserable. “Ugh, I don’t feel so good...”

Chan immediately rushes to your side, concern flashing across his face, and you can hear Seungkwan's snort of disbelief. Vernon looks at you with a furrowed brow, clearly not buying it. But he’s too polite to say anything. “You sure? You look kinda green.”

That’s your cue. You make a dramatic move, leaning over the lab counter, your hands gripping it as if you're about to collapse. Your stomach gives another exaggerated roll as you close your eyes. “I think I’m gonna be sick,” you say in a voice that’s so over the top, it sounds like it came straight out of a soap opera.

You expect Vernon to panic, maybe grab your arm to steady you, but instead, he just stares at you, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Really?” he asks slowly, clearly unconvinced. "Or is it that you want to run away again?"

Oh my god. You freeze, horrified that Vernon might actually be onto you. You try to hide your terror behind your palm, rubbing your eyes like you’re just too tired to keep up the act. “No! No... I’m definitely sick,” you say with a cough for added effect.

But Vernon isn’t having it. He places his hands on his hips, shaking his head with a small chuckle. “You’re not even trying to hide it. Just admit you’re avoiding me. What’s the deal?”

You panic, fully aware that your ridiculous performance isn’t going to fool him for long. You grab your bag off the back of the chair with a look of pure desperation. “No, no! I just—uh, I need to go to the bathroom! I’ll be right back, promise!”

Before Chan can protest, you push past him, stumbling out of the lab with as much speed as your shaking legs can muster. You burst out into the hallway, nearly running into a group of students on their way to their next class. Too close. You force your breathing to steady as you walk briskly, acting like you haven’t just staged the most obvious escape ever.

You round the corner, ducking into the nearest restroom. You push open the door, locking it behind you, leaning against the cool tile wall as you try to gather yourself. What is wrong with you?

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. Seungkwan, of course.

Boo 🍊: i was joking when i said u should get the plague idiot

Boo 🍊: ur the worst actor i’ve ever seen

Y/N: i had to ok

Y/N: this is a nightmare.

Your phone buzzes again almost immediately. 

Boo 🍊: ur so obvious it’s kinda gross

Boo 🍊: chan’s gonna fail this lab for u. also. U NEED TO TALK TO VERNON AT SOME POINT

Y/N: not today!

It’s Friday night. One week since that confession. And honestly? All you want right now is a shot of shitty tequila, a cheap beer, and some damn good music to drown out the past seven days. You’re tired of thinking about it. You’re tired of pretending like last weekend never happened.

The second you and Seungkwan step through the door of Mingyu’s house, you're hit with a wave of noise. It’s too loud, the bass too heavy, but somehow, that’s exactly what you need. The house is packed, the kind of party that screams “let’s fuck up everything in the best way possible.” You spot Mingyu behind the kitchen counter, already wearing that signature smirk of his, mixing drinks for whoever’s brave enough to stand in line. But then—of course—your night has to take a turn.

Vernon.

He’s sprawled out on the couch, head bopping to some random SoundCloud rap, looking way too at ease in his flannel and backwards cap. Fucking perfect. You mentally groan. You’d hoped for at least a few hours of peace tonight, but apparently, that’s not in the cards.

Seungkwan nudges you, elbow digging into your side. “Well, well, well,” he says with that knowing grin. “Guess your worst nightmare is here.”

You shove him back, rolling your eyes. “Don’t make it worse.”

“Too late,” Seungkwan chirps. “Now, let’s get some tequila in your system.”

You head straight for the kitchen, not bothering with small talk. The music is too loud, the room too warm, and your head is already swimming with the thought of one thing: tequila. You pull the bottle off the shelf with the same speed as if it’s your lifeline, and without hesitation, you pour yourself a generous shot. No chaser. Just straight into your system.

Seungkwan eyes you carefully from the counter. “Careful,” he singsongs in your ear, his voice dripping with teasing. “That’s what got you into this mess in the first place.”

You shoot him a sideways glance, the corners of your lips twitching upward. “Shut up,” you mutter, then down the tequila like it’s water. The burn sears down your throat, and the warmth spreads through your chest almost immediately.

You reach for another shot when—just your fucking luck—Vernon walks into the kitchen. His eyes land on you instantly, like he knew exactly where to find you. You want to swallow him whole—no, just pretend he's not even here– but you know that’s not going to happen.

“Wow, look who’s getting to the good stuff early,” Vernon says, voice as smooth as ever. His gaze flicks down to your hand around the bottle, and then right back up to your face, and something in his eyes makes you want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

Seungkwan shoots you a sideways look, his smirk turning even more mischievous. With a dramatic sigh, he pushes himself off the counter, clearly done with this conversation already. “Alright, well, have fun with that,” he says in a sing-songy voice, clearly aware of how uncomfortable this is getting. Then, he makes his exit, blowing you a mocking kiss from the doorway before disappearing into the living room.

You roll your eyes at his back, shooting him a silent curse with your eyes, but the moment Vernon steps forward, all that annoyance evaporates into something else entirely. Your focus is back on him, and that damn smirk on his face.

“Didn’t know tequila was your thing,” Vernon says casually, leaning against the counter next to you. You move to pour another shot, but Vernon steps closer, cornering you against the counter with that infuriating smirk plastered on his face. The proximity is almost suffocating, and you feel your pulse spike in your neck, your heart pounding. You try not to make eye contact, your gaze fixed firmly on the bottle in your hand, as if it could somehow shield you from him.

Vernon’s smirk widens, and he leans in slightly. “Y’know, you need to look at me to make conversation,” he says, voice low and teasing.

Before you can even process what’s happening, his hand slides under your jaw, his fingers gently but firmly lifting your chin until you have no choice but to meet his eyes.

Your breath hitches in your throat, and for a second, you forget to breathe. His eyes are almost burning into you, and you can’t look away—not that you want to.

For a second, you forget about everything. Your entire focus narrows to the guy standing in front of you, the guy who’s been fucking with your head for over a week now. You try to focus, try to snap yourself out of it, but damn—he looks good. Too good. That stupid backwards cap, the flannel shirt that’s just loose enough, the way his jawline sharpens under the dim kitchen light. You swallow, trying to keep your cool, but fuck, he’s too close. Too damn close. You want to push him away, but the closeness has your body freezing, every nerve on edge.

It’s the same feeling you had last week. And it’s happening again.

Fuck. No. This is not how it’s supposed to go.

Your mind races, trying to think of something, anything, to get out of this. Then—like a miracle—Mingyu strolls by, not even realizing the chaos you’re trying to keep under control. You latch onto him like a lifeline.

“Mingyu! HI!” you shout, ducking under Vernon’s arm and making a beeline for him. You grip his arm with a little too much force, probably dragging him away from whatever conversation he was having with someone else. He looks at you, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, but you don’t even give him a chance to ask why you’re acting like a madman.

“Long time no see! Let’s catch up!” you practically drag him out of the kitchen before Vernon can say anything, and Mingyu shoots a glance over his shoulder at you. He looks confused, but soon the music envelops you, and he happily throws an arm around your shoulder and pulls you onto the dance floor.

The music is a blur of bass and off-key notes, but the tequila in your system helps dull everything, smooths out the jagged edges of your thoughts. Mingyu is practically yelling in your ear, his voice way too loud for the volume of the song, but you can’t help but laugh at his unrelenting enthusiasm. He’s screaming the lyrics to some cheesy pop song—something from five years ago that you can’t even remember the name of—but he’s grinning, and you can’t help but mirror his energy. For a moment, the heat of the room and the chaos of the party become distant, fading into the background, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you forget about Vernon. You forget about everything.

Mingyu pulls you into a ridiculous spin, and you laugh, the sound lost in the music. His arm tightens around your shoulders as he twirls you back into his chest, but just as you feel yourself getting lost in the rhythm, your phone buzzes in your pocket. It’s Seungkwan.

You swipe the screen without thinking, still caught in the whirl of the dance floor.

Boo 🍊:  he’s staring at you

Your heart drops.

You freeze mid-spin, suddenly feeling too warm, too exposed, like you’re still back in that kitchen, caught between the tequila, the tension, and the pull of Vernon’s eyes. The phone screen flickers in your hand, but you don’t even need to read the message again to know what it means. You know Seungkwan’s been watching the two of you dance around each other, and you know who he is. Vernon’s watching you. He’s staring.

You glance over your shoulder instinctively, and there—across the room, leaning against the doorframe—is Vernon. That tantalizing smirk is still in place, like it’s carved into his face. His eyes are on you, not even trying to hide it, and that stupid look on his face says everything. The way he watches you makes your skin tingle, and the realization hits you harder than the tequila burn in your stomach.

“Yo, you good?” Mingyu’s voice cuts through the noise, pulling you back to the present. You swallow hard, still trying to shake the feeling of Vernon’s gaze on you. You force a smile and nod, but all you can think about is the way Vernon is watching you.

“Mingyu,” you murmur, grabbing his wrist, “I think I need a drink. I’ll be right back.”

Before he can protest, you make a beeline for the kitchen again, your feet moving quicker than you can process. You need space. You need air. The heat of the dance floor still clings to your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the suffocating feeling that’s starting to build in your chest. The tequila's starting to wear off, but your nerves are still shot, and you can’t get rid of the image of Vernon leaning against the doorframe, eyes fixed on you like he’s just waiting for you to make a move.

The kitchen’s quieter, the music a distant hum, and you’re almost grateful for the space, the absence of people. You grab the tequila bottle again, not caring if anyone’s watching. You pour yourself another shot, but before you can even bring it to your lips, you hear footsteps approaching. You don’t need to look up to know who it is.

“I think we should talk,” Vernon’s voice sounds closer than you expect. You try not to flinch, but you can’t stop yourself from stiffening. You move to step away, but then his hand is on the counter next to you, trapping you in place. You don’t want to look at him, not after everything that’s happened.

“I’m serious,” he adds, tone shifting just slightly. There’s a quiet edge to his voice, a softness you’ve never heard before, but it only makes you hesitate more.

You finally raise your gaze, and for the first time tonight, you meet his eyes. His smirk is still there, but there’s something else too—something you can’t quite place.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” you say, your voice lower than you intended.

Vernon’s eyes flicker for a moment, a flash of something unreadable crossing his face, but the moment’s gone too quickly. He chuckles lightly, not mocking, but with a sense of finality.

“Fair enough.” He straightens up, taking a step back, giving you a little more space, but still standing there. “But just so you know…” His voice softens again, the teasing replaced with something a little too sincere for your comfort. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Fuck. That’s it. You can’t be here anymore.

You spin on your heel, heading straight for Seungkwan, who’s been knee-deep in a Mario Kart championship with Soonyoung and Seokmin. The game is so intense that Seungkwan barely notices you storming up to him, too busy yelling at the screen as he tries to secure his victory.

“Time to go,” you say, your voice sharp enough that even Seungkwan can’t ignore it.

He looks up from his game, a little confused. “What? We just GOT HERE!”

“TIME TO GO, SEUNGKWAN,” you hiss, a little louder this time, unable to mask the frustration that’s bubbling up in your chest.

Seungkwan groans, annoyed that his Mario Kart dominance is being interrupted, but he stands up anyway, muttering something about the injustice of it all.

But then, like a fucking curse, Vernon appears in front of you, stepping into your path just as you try to make your exit. His presence feels almost too heavy in the moment, his gaze unrelenting as his lips curl into that same familiar smirk.

“Leaving so early?” he asks, voice laced with amusement, and his eyes lock on yours, steady and impossible to ignore. It makes your stomach flip, and you feel that heat in your cheeks you can’t seem to get rid of.

You avoid his gaze, turning your face just enough to escape the intensity of it. “Oh yeah, early morning,” you mumble, desperate to get out of there. “Lots of stuff to do, classes and all…”

Vernon tilts his head slightly, his smirk widening as if he can see right through your bullshit. “Tomorrow’s Saturday,” he says, voice matter-of-fact, as if calling out your feeble excuse is somehow amusing to him.

Shit.

You try to force a smile through it, but it feels like it’s made of plastic, fake and thin. You avoid his gaze like it’s radioactive. “Yeah, uh… just, you know—okay, bye!” You nearly shove Seungkwan out the door before Vernon can say another word.

The second the door slams shut behind you, Seungkwan bursts out laughing, his voice loud in the quiet of the carpark.

“You’re such a mess,” he cackles, still trying to catch his breath. “Did you seriously try to pull the early morning classes excuse? Like, no one knows tomorrow’s Saturday?”

You shoot him a middle finger, too tired to even care. “Shut up, Seungkwan. Just drive.”

He laughs harder, but at least he doesn’t push it further. Seungkwan’s car engine roars to life, and as he drives off, the weight of the night slowly lifts from your shoulders. But in the back of your mind, you can still feel Vernon’s eyes on you, like they never really left.

Dinner a week later is nothing fancy—just some ramen you scrounged up after dragging yourself through another shit show of a week. The kitchen, warm and dimly lit by the overhead light, feels like a small refuge, and for a second, you’re fine with being here. The steam rising from your bowl swirls in the air, and you twirl the noodles absentmindedly, trying to ignore the weight of everything slowly settling over you.

Seungkwan’s sitting across from you, casually slurping his ramen, but there’s something in the way his eyes flicker up, a strange glint in them, that makes you pause. The silence stretches for a moment, the kind that feels like it’s waiting for something, and then, as if he can’t hold it in any longer, he drops the bomb.

“Vernon’s coming over later.”

You freeze, a piece of noodle hanging from your chopsticks, your eyes wide. “WHAT?” You nearly choke on the noodles, the shock making you forget to swallow. “Why the hell is he coming over? Are you—seriously?”

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow, lips curling into a grin that doesn’t match his feigned innocence. “Just to study,” he says, shrugging like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “Our lab midterm is in a couple of days, and we can’t figure out the damn ratios for the prelab.”

Your mind stutters, trying to catch up with what he’s saying. Vernon, your uncomfortably charming classmate, is coming here. Of course he is. “Seungkwan, you know I—” You stop, frustrated, searching for words that aren’t quite coming. This is your house, your space, and you’re already struggling with the thought of being alone with him. The awkward tension from the last few days suddenly feels so much heavier now.

Seungkwan, not missing a beat, looks over at you with a teasing grin. “Haven’t you run away enough? It’s been, like, almost two weeks.” He’s got that smirk on his face again, the one that says he knows exactly what he’s doing, pushing all the right buttons to get you riled up.

You glare at him, trying to muster some kind of defense, but your words come out quieter than you expect. “I’m not running away,” you snap, though it’s weak. It’s been two weeks of exactly that. “I’m just—busy. You know, college stuff.”

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, and you feel your resolve crumble under his knowing look. “Yeah, sure. College stuff. That’s totally why you’ve been dodging Vernon for the past week. Can’t blame you though—guy’s got a way of making things... uncomfortable.” He chuckles at his own joke, but there’s an edge of teasing that cuts too close to the truth.

You groan, rubbing your face in frustration. “Stop making this worse.”

“Hey, I’m just saying,” Seungkwan shrugs, his grin widening. “Haven’t you thought about actually talking to him? It’s not like you’ve got that much time before he shows up.”

“Don’t remind me,” you mutter, then, more to yourself, “I didn’t plan this. He didn’t plan this. This is... This is all just—” You stop yourself, shaking your head, your words trailing off.

Seungkwan chuckles again, but this time, it’s softer, almost like he’s giving you space to breathe. “Look, I’m just saying, maybe stop running away for once. You’ll figure it out.” He slaps you lightly on the back, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

But before you can even gather your thoughts, Seungkwan’s phone rings. He picks it up immediately, urgency lacing his voice, and you’re taken off guard.

“Seokmin?” He pauses, listening. “What? Is the fish… what? It can’t breathe??” He gasps, standing up quickly. “I’ll be right there, man, I swear! I’m coming now!”

He hangs up, looking at you, his face twisting into exaggerated concern. “Emergency. Seokmin’s fish is dying.”

You blink, disbelief painted on your face. “You’re fucking joking. You’re actually leaving me with Vernon? Alone?”

“Yup!” Seungkwan says, already halfway to the door. “You’re on your own, Y/N! Don’t burn the place down!” His laugh echoes as he bolts out, leaving you standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring after him in utter disbelief.

Great. Just great.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rings. Your stomach does a flip, nerves bubbling in your chest. You almost consider pretending you’re not home, hiding in your bedroom until Vernon leaves. But that’s childish, and you can’t avoid this forever. With a sigh, you pull yourself to the door and open it, finding Vernon standing there, looking annoyingly comfortable with that goddamn grin on his face.

“Hi,” he says, voice teasing but warm. “So, Seungkwan tells me we’re doing some studying?”

You step aside to let him in. The last thing you want is to be rude, but the silence that follows as you both walk to the kitchen feels suffocating. You can practically feel the tension hanging in the air, thick with all the things you’ve been avoiding. His presence lingers, like it’s always been there, and yet it’s different now.

Vernon leans against the counter casually, and you busy yourself with rearranging things on the counter, anything to avoid looking at him. You can feel his eyes on you, but you can’t make yourself meet them. Every time you think about what happened, your heart races, and the words you said to him feel like a blur. But they’re always there, hovering on the edge of your thoughts.

Finally, Vernon breaks the silence, his voice softer than before. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You freeze. The air in the room seems to tighten, and his words land with the weight of a trap you didn’t see coming.

“What?” You try to laugh it off, but the sound comes out rough, more strained than you intended. “Pshhhh nooooo.”

“You have.” Vernon pushes off the counter, stepping closer to you. His movements are deliberate, but there’s a softness in them as he closes the space. His eyes remain locked on yours, steady and searching, like he’s waiting for you to crack, to finally admit something. You can’t look away, your breath shallow, the pulse at your neck pounding hard. “And you can’t even look me in the eye. Did I do something wrong?”

His voice is gentle, almost too gentle, and it makes your chest tighten. You shift uncomfortably, your arms folding across your body, a silent defense against the intensity of his gaze. The room feels smaller now, every inch of space filled with the heat between you. You feel trapped, your heart hammering in your chest, yet there's nowhere you'd rather be—and that's the problem.

“No, Vern, I just—” You stop, sucking in a breath, trying to steady yourself. “I said something I didn’t mean the other night.”

Vernon’s eyes narrow, a flicker of something in them—recognition, maybe? The way his lips part slightly, a mix of confusion and understanding. “You didn’t mean it?”

The words hit like a physical blow, and your stomach twists. You want to take them back, but instead, you find yourself retreating into yourself, avoiding his gaze. “I—what?”

“Did you mean it?” Vernon presses, and you swear you can feel his gaze like a weight on your skin. He’s not backing off, not letting this go.

You’re caught. You open your mouth, but no words come out, and the silence between you feels like it’s suffocating. You feel the heat rising to your face, your hands trembling by your sides.

“Mean what?” you finally manage, voice quieter than you’d like.

He steps even closer now, his body inches from yours, and his gaze doesn’t falter. His lips barely part as he speaks, the words lingering in the air between you. “Don’t play dumb with me, Y/N. You told me you loved me.”

The room spins, the ground beneath you feeling unsteady. You blink, your chest tightening as the memory of that night rushes back, sharp and overwhelming. Your hands move restlessly, clutching at the counter as if it’ll keep you from falling.

“But I was drunk—” You stumble over the words, desperate to explain, but his gaze doesn’t waver. His eyes are steady, unwavering, and you can’t escape them.

“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” Vernon says softly, his voice firm, but there’s no anger in it—only a certainty that rattles you.

“I just didn’t mean to put you on the spot—” You try again, but this time, he stops you, his tone more reassuring than you expect.

“You didn’t,” he says quietly, his hand reaching out, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face in a surprisingly tender gesture. “You didn’t put me on the spot.”

“Okay?” you ask, your voice uncertain. You can’t tell if you’ve just misunderstood everything or if this moment has shifted entirely. You blink at him, still trying to catch up.

Vernon smiles then, a soft, almost affectionate smile, and the air between you shifts. The tension eases just a little, but it’s still thick, like something’s hanging in the balance. “You don’t remember, do you?”

“No…” you whisper, the words coming out almost too quietly, but Vernon just laughs.

“I said I loved you too, idiot.”

You freeze. The words crash into your chest, and you feel the ground tilt beneath you again. This time, it’s harder to recover from. “You—you WHAT?”

Vernon chuckles, his grin widening, and this time, it’s teasing, almost mischievous. “Come on,” he says, stepping closer. His chest is almost brushing yours now. “I love you too. Can you stop running away now?”

“I WASN’T!” you protest, but the words fall flat, not convincing even yourself. Your body is tense, but his proximity makes your heart race in a way you don’t quite understand.

“You were,” Vernon says, his smirk softening just enough to catch you off guard. You feel your knees go weak at the way his gaze softens, like he’s pulling you into something you’re not sure you’re ready for. “But it was kinda cute, y’know?”

Before you can even think of a response, he's right there, too close—like, uncomfortably close. His presence feels like it’s swallowing up all the space between you, and suddenly, you’re backed up against the counter, like he’s somehow managed to get you cornered without even trying. It’s all too familiar, too much like that night at the party. You can’t help but stiffen, but it’s not bad, just... intense.

You can feel the heat radiating off him now, like it’s pulling you in, and the way he’s leaning in just enough that you can’t help but tilt your head to meet his eyes—your heart starts hammering in your chest. Too close. Way too close. Your body wants to take a step back, but you don’t, mostly because you’re pretty sure you’re not even sure where to go from here.

And he knows it. You can see it in the way he’s standing, like he's completely unbothered, like it’s no big deal that he’s got you backed up into a corner. Your shoulders feel tense, but your feet just stay planted where they are, like they’ve been glued to the floor. His gaze locks with yours, and you can feel that pull, that thing that makes it hard to breathe—like your chest is getting tight and you’re not sure if you want to run or stay.

There’s this low buzz in the air between you two, and you don’t know how much of it is him or how much is just your heart freaking out. His breath is right there, close enough that you’re aware of the way it catches every time you look at him. And you can’t even tell if you’re annoyed at how close he’s gotten or if your mind is too distracted by how nice it feels to have him this near.

You’re trapped, but you’re not sure if you mind it. It’s like your chest is about to burst from the tension, or maybe it’s going to stop completely. Either way, you're not entirely sure which one you're hoping for.

“No more running,” he murmurs, his voice low, steady, eyes never leaving yours. There’s no doubt in his tone, no hesitation, like he’s already made up his mind. The space between you two feels charged now, the air thick with the unspoken.

“No more running,” you echo, the words slipping out before you can stop them, and for the first time, they feel right. You’re not sure why, but you believe it.

And then, Vernon leans in, his lips brushing against yours.

The kiss is slow, soft at first, like he’s giving you space to catch up. His lips are warm and a little sweet, tasting faintly of mint from the gum he’s been chewing earlier. You inhale through your nose, catching the subtle scent of his cologne—fresh, with a hint of wood and citrus—that wraps around you like it’s always been there, like it’s familiar. Every part of him seems to make the world outside feel distant, unimportant. The tension, the uncertainty, the past few days—they don’t matter anymore. 

The pressure of his lips increases, more certain now, and the warmth of his mouth sends a flutter through you. You lean in, responding, your hand instinctively finding the chain around his neck, pulling him closer, as if you can’t quite get enough of him. It’s slow, deliberate, like he wants to savor it just as much as you do. For the first time in days, everything feels like it’s in its right place.

When he pulls back, it’s just enough to speak, his lips still lingering on yours. “Y’know,” he says with a playful grin, “We could’ve been doing this two weeks ago if you weren’t so emotionally constipated.”

You laugh, breathless, pulling him closer by his chain. The heat creeping up your neck is almost unbearable. “Shut up,” you protest, half-smiling. “You can’t blame a girl for what she says when she’s drunk.”

“I won’t,” he agrees with a smirk, kissing you again, this time a little more urgently. “But I can’t make any promises about Seungkwan.”

From the hallway, you hear Seungkwan’s unmistakable voice, a triumphant cheer echoing from the door.

[yourlittlebunnyy]

tw: size kink, bit of dacryphilia, overall this is nastyyy

something about having you under him, squirming and helpless, makes azriel go feral.

it's the way you look so small compared to him, the way you are incapable of doing anything because he's just too strong and you can't fight back even if you want to.

the fact is, that no matter what size you are, he is big. all those hours passed in the illyrian camps training pay off. his hand alone could cover a good part of your back. and his cock... it's a struggle everytime, but oh man if he doesn't take pleasure in seeing you struggling.

the first time you two fucked, he had to strech you out with his fingers first. and when he saw how much you struggled with just one of his fingers, he knew it was going to be a tight fit. your walls barely capable of fitting one single finger, he couldn’t imagine how you could have taken his cock, but you did. you take it like a good girl every time.

"you can take it, baby. yeah..." he groans. "you can fucking take it. just like that..." the room is filled with the thick smell of sex, your little cries overpower the sound of skin against skin. you might almost feel embarrassed by the sounds coming out of your lips, but azriel's cock is fucking you so well it sends your brain to mush. zero thoughts behind your pretty eyes.

and azriel loves fucking you. loves watching as your face scrunches in a mixture of pain and pleasure, his cock stretching you out, breaking you in an half. he mutters praises under his breath, his eyes fixated on your tummy that bulges with every thrust, the line of his cock visible through your skin. "look at us, baby. fuck... look at us." he moans, forcing you to look at where your bodies meet. pretty tears stream down your eyes, overstimulation kicking in. you're so full you can feel him in your stomach.

he watches in wonder, completely intoxicated by you and amazed by how much of him you can take.

azriel is addicted to the power he has over you, too. the way he could throw you around like a toy, holding you in place just how he likes.

"c'mon baby, just a little more..." he whispers, supporting you with those strong arms. your back touches his chest, you can feel the wild rhythm of his heart against your back. your legs tremble, exhausted. "give me one more, just one more... i promise."

every time he says something, even tho your head is disconnected, your body can somehow still register his words, your walls clenching automatically around his girth, making him groan.

his hand presses against your tummy, feeling the bulge makes him twitch inside of you. the pressure causes his cock the hit even deeper, hitting spots that make you see stars. "keep clenching around my cock, sweet girl." you sniff, little incoherent prayers fall from your lips. you don't even know what you're begging for. "gods, gonna ruin you for everyone else. you're fucking mine."

main masterlist - azriel masterlist

[reidrum]

the prophecy part 1:

cards on the table, mine played out like fools in a fable | s.r.

A/N: trying something new…..this one’s been on my mind for too long and the angst hurt too good. sorry in advance ! perhaps a part 2 who’s to say ..,,,..,. ?

cw: bau!fem!reader, spoilers for prison arc, implied talks of SA (referring to when lindsey doses spencer in mexico), maeve donovan, just angst bro this doesn’t end well

summary: you and jj accompany spencer to cat’s correctional facility to play her games, except there’s more than one loser

wc: 2.1k

part 2

——————————————————————————

Cat Adams’ taunts and demands have led Spencer, JJ, and you to visit her in her correctional facility to play whatever game she has for him. Emily had you and JJ go with him given his erratic state from just being released, in hopes that you both could regulate and monitor the whole meeting.

You and JJ watch Spencer walk in stoically, sitting down across from Cat as she smiles at him. He angrily demands for his mother’s location, but she gets upset and tells him that he doesn’t get to treat her like a criminal. She only agrees to tell him the location if he plays her game, and figures out the secret she knows about Spencer.

Spencer’s brain works overtime to figure out what he’s missing, what Cat could possibly be holding against him that would make him deny the truth of it. He runs through all the scenarios; Spencer being able to now understand how it feels to have a parent used as a pawn, Cat wanting him to admit his love for her. But she shakes her head and reveals that a clue was left in a scrapbook in Spencer’s apartment.

You remember you took a picture of it when you went with Spencer to scope it out, and pulled it out to show JJ.

“Is that an X and a Y?” She ponders, “What could that mean?”

“I think it’s…” You stop halfway, realizing what it means. Your face drops and you look back in the room to watch Spencer come to the same conclusion.

“We’re pregnant!” Cat sings.

You and JJ look at each other in shock, the blonde’s voice slowly drowning out as you sink further into the Cat shaped hole. You vaguely hear her mention going to the guard to find her medical records, but all you can think about is how she could be bearing Spencer’s child.

Spencer and you had been together for a little over two years now. While still in the relative early stages, a lot about your relationship had been figured out and solidified. It was the most secure you’d ever felt with anyone, and despite the road bumps with Mexico you felt that you both came through it as well as any couple would in that situation.

You loved Spencer, and Spencer loved you. Right now was just another one of those road bumps, just like Mexico. That’s what you needed to tell yourself.

JJ bursts through the door with the medical documents, “I got them.” breaking you out of your spiral. You both anxiously look at the paper to find a little (+) sign ticked next to the pregnant box.

Cat Adams really was pregnant. You think you could be sick, you feel JJ’s hand grip your arm in an attempt to tether you back down, but it’s a futile effort. Your brain has already taken the information and ran a billion different directions with it, each coming up with a more crazy conclusion.

You stare blankly into the interrogation room as Spencer vehemently denies the child being his, denying any such way that it could even be his. The disbelief is ruling his words as he shuts down any theory that gives it truth, until Cat reminds him of the heavy dose he was given in Mexico. It hit him then, if he could barely remember the third person in that room, he had no bearing on whatever else transpired.

Spencer tries not to let the anxiety and shock show on his face as he sits down to face Cat in the eyes, “How did you do it?”

“I gave Lindsey very specific instructions to get you in the mood.”

“She pretend to be you?”

“Why, would that have worked?”

“No.” he says sternly.

She pauses, ego clearly bruised, “Yeah, I know. I know. Believe me, I know exactly where I stand on the Spencer Reid "Hot or Not" list. I told her to pretend to be Maeve. Maeve Donovan, who had her brains blown out right in front of you before you two could even kiss.”

Spencer’s face falls. No, he thinks, no no no. He looks back at the one way window behind him, knowing very well he can’t see you but you’re watching everything unfold disastrously.

Your heart drops so fast it could have very well been seismic. To your horror, Cat continues.

“I thought about telling her to pretend to be your little BAU girlfriend,” she chuckles, “But then I realized, you only had one love of your life. and you won’t let anyone else measure up.” She leans in closer, “By the way, I know that you still think about Maeve when you’re, you know, with your little crime fighter over there. But don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” She gives an over exaggerated wink to the window.

Spencer feels like he’s seeing white, anger coursing through his body as the reality of his situation comes to a head. He’s definitely not thinking when he pushes the table aside harshly, grabbing Cat by the collar and pushing her against the wall. He’s only able to stop when JJ is beside him suddenly attempting to pull him back, reminding him that she’s pregnant.

His fists are clenched and without a second thought he storms out of the room, his tunnel vision taking him right past you and JJ.

JJ doesn’t know what to do, she looks back into the room to see Cat smirking to herself, and god if she didn’t have morals she’d finish what Spencer started. She thinks it’s wise to go after Spencer and check on him, knowing that Cat’s timer is still ticking and the faster he gets back in there the sooner they can find his mother.

But then she looks at you and suddenly her feet are rooted next to yours.

She lays her hand on your shoulder and gently speaks, “Hey, I’m right here okay?”

You nod mindlessly, hoping you can keep the ocean of tears at bay with whatever resolve you can muster. She squeezes her hand at your acknowledgment and doesn’t move.

How is she supposed to even comfort you? How are you supposed to process this?

You knew how important Maeve Donovan was to Spencer. The whole thing had happened a year before you joined the team, only having heard the story through your teammates. It was tragic, there was no other way to put it, and your heart clenched for Spencer for having to go through that by himself. When you both first started dating, he disclosed the more intimate details to you, wanting nothing to be left unspoken about his past to affect his future with you.

What a cruel twist of fate.

“I—I think,” you stutter, “I have to go, JJ, I can’t be here right now.”

“But—“ She starts.

You cut her off, “No, JJ you have to go talk to Spencer and get him back in there. The longer his mom is with Lindsey…” you trail off.

She nods, understanding that you’re thinking about the priorities right now, “Okay, okay I’ll go find him. Where are you going to go?”

You could go home, the one you share with Spencer. Or you could go back to the office, the one you also share with Spencer.

Every realization adds another needle to your stack, and you’re about to crumble under the weight. “I—I don’t know.” You whimper.

JJ closes her eyes to think quickly and grips your shoulders, “Go back to the BAU okay? I’m going to call Emily and tell her to expect you back, you go straight there, do you understand me?” she emphasizes. JJ is smart enough to know that you cannot be alone right now, and that Spencer wouldn’t be able to scrounge up whatever focus he could into getting answers from Cat if he knew you had left by yourself to god knows where.

All you could do was nod, and hope and pray that your feet would carry you to the car and back to the bureau. JJ was nervous having you drive back, but she really didn’t have a choice. All she could do was notify Emily, as well as Penelope for tracking purposes, that you were headed back, and to not ask you too many questions.

After you left, JJ stood in the waiting room for a brief moment before going to find where Spencer went. She finds him sitting on the floor of an unused interrogation room with his head tucked into his knees.

She speaks quietly to not startle him, “Hey.”

He looks up at the voice, JJ noticing his eyes flit around and behind her as if looking for something, or someone. His eyes sulk back when he’s unable to find it.

Spencer opens his mouth to speak, “Is she—“

“She’s going back to the BAU, Emily knows she’s on the way,” she cuts him off already anticipating his question, “Listen, whatever you’re feeling about what just happened right now has to be paused. You need to focus and finish this stupid game with Cat so we can find your mother and be done with her.” She grits out.

He sighs shakily, he doesn’t even want to think about what must be going through your head. As much as it pained him to experience her vitriol first hand, you were on the other side of that window listening to every word Cat spewed out. And somehow, knowing you watched all of that hurt worse than Mexico, worse than Tobias Hankel, and even worse than Maeve Donovan.

Cat was playing a deeply fucked psychological game with him, and she had now called you in as a pawn. You, his darling girl. The one who made him see the light of the sun after it was constantly being put out, the one who loved him through his mother’s illness and wrongful imprisonment, the one who is, with all and every bit of certainty, the love of his life.

If the velvet black box in his sock drawer was any testament to the power that love held, he hoped it would take mercy on him in this moment.

He stands up and paces the room for a moment before kicking the chair to the other side of the room. JJ startles, her eyes widening but attempting to remain neutral faced as Spencer sorts out his emotions.

“Spence, we need to focus,” she reminds him, “Time is running out.”

“I know,” he mumbles and paces the room hoping to have a stroke of insight, “I have an idea.”

———

You must be no better than a zombie in the final apocalypse when you walk into the bullpen, stumbling around with glassy eyes, no regard for what’s in your way. The apathetic coping mechanism you’ve deployed almost makes you seem as mindless as those monsters, if it weren’t for Penelope to show up and steady you.

“I gotcha, honey,” She makes eye contact with Emily, acknowledging that she’s got you, before turning back to you again, “Come here, let’s sit down.” Penelope sits you down in the nearest chair and drags another one for her to sit right next to you.

You don’t speak for an hour after sitting. Penelope doesn’t ask, only checking in every ten minutes to see if you want a snack or some water, to which you shake your head no every time. She’s too busy typing away on her laptop getting information that could help the team find Spencer’s mother, the last thing you want to be is a bump in the road for them.

Another hour passes before the team exits the conference room, alerting you and Penelope that they think they’ve found the cabin where Diana and Lindsey are. Emily gathers everything they need before approaching you in the bullpen.

“Do I have to be here when you guys come back?” You ask quietly.

Emily sighs, understanding the gravity of your circumstance, “No, you don’t. Will you let Garcia drop you home though? Give us all a peace of mind.” She chuckles humorlessly, unknowingly squeezing the other shoulder JJ didn’t.

You know the ‘all’ she’s referring to really just means one person. It doesn’t make you feel any better, but you don’t think it’s meant to. She brings you in for a tight hug, “I’ll check on you after, okay?”

You nod and release from her embrace. Penelope gathers her things next to you and you both walk to the elevator.

“Honey,” It pained Garcia to see you like this, and she didn’t know how she could help, “What can I do?”

You sniffle and shrug, there isn’t much she can do. There isn’t even much that you could do. Not that anything you could do would be enough, it was never enough. Not for you, not for the team, and not for Spencer.

With a bitter chuckle you answer Penelope’s question,

“Bring back Maeve.”

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

59 / 3.4k / part 3 of shark mermen Gaz and Soap with human!reader <3

kinktober keywords: dubcon, monster mermen, monsterfucking, teratophilia, overt predator/prey dynamics, hypnosis/hypnokink, praise

...

"You gonna behave?"

You bite your lip and keep your arms tightly wound around your upper half. "I thought I was."

The movement catches Gaz's eyes. They darken. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

He reaches out, catching your bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. He pulls it gently lower and lets it snap back into place, and your lip stings with saltwater. "That."

You squirm in his hold.

Gaz keeps his grip, but lets you keep moving. His gaze drops again to your lips and keeps getting lower until it's obvious that he's staring at your neck. Even if he weren't a predator sensitive to the quick heartbeat and rushing blood of startled prey, he'd see the nerves all over you. He draws closer.

"You're so small," he murmurs.

You press back, but it does no good.

"And weak," Gaz continues. The clawtip of his index finger presses into the damp flesh of your stomach. "I could crack you open like the shell of a clam. Can I touch you?"

Before you can answer, Soap's hands wander up your legs again. You tense. Gaz's tail tightens under you in response.

"Bit late to ask if you can touch her," Soap says in their mer-tongue.

Gaz ignores him. "Stay still," he murmurs, his tail tightening. Not quite enough to crush anything, but enough to restrict more of your movement. "I won't hurt you."

As Soap makes a grab at one of your wrists, the coldness of your skin and the quickness of your pulse sends a small thrill down his spine.

You try to still your movements and steady your breath. It seems like the more you squirm and protest, the more it snags their interest. You're pretty sure by now they're not going to eat you, but their interest in you has taken an unmistakably carnal tilt.

"See?" Gaz says. "You can be good." He drags his claw lightly over your belly again, and you feel all the muscles of your midsection tense. If it weren't for him squeezing you so firmly, you'd almost be lifted out of the water.

"Good," he murmurs again.

"What do you want to see? I already showed you my legs."

"Everything else."

It's a blunt, straightforward answer. The way Gaz says it seems almost disinterested—matter-of-fact—but his gaze is fixed intently on your belly. He wants to see every inch of you, the softness and the curves and the hollow spots and the sharp dips.

Soap's hands find your waist, and he pulls you closer in in a way that forces you to arch your back, bough toward him, and spread your legs wider over Gaz's tail.

You steal a glance down at the glass-sharp rocky sand and the cold waves rising in. "Here?"

They don't bother to answer. Gaz shifts your hips up his tail, contorting you further. Soap stares openly down at your tits through your wet shirt as he drags his massive hands down your thighs and back up in an exploratory motion.

Gaz's scales push up against the crotch of your shorts. Your brain skips. This can't be happening right now and you can't be feeling kind of hot under the collar about it. No, nah, nope.

You plant your hands against Soap's shoulders and push him back. "I said not here! Take me somewhere nice." No, that's not quite right. "Somewhere private."

nsfw ⬇

Gaz digs his fingers into your hips and pushes you further up his tail. The movement grinds you into him like he's starting to feel you get warm and wet.

"Yeah?" Soap purrs, letting you push him away. There's no way you could throw him off unless he lets you, but he does. "Where d'you want us to take you, little human?"

"Somewhere soft and dry."

The two merman trade looks with one another. Gaz tilts his head down at you and narrows his dark eyes. "I know a place."

You swallow. "You do?"

"Mmhm." His tail shifts beneath you. "Have you ever seen a merman's bed?"

"No..."

Gaz’s tone drops to something just above a murmur. "It's carved out of sloping reef rock and lined with the softest, sun-warmed sand. Perfect to lie in."

Despite his attempt to soothe you, Soap's claws catching the hem of your torn shirt make you even more tense. You grab his hand and push it down. A muscle in your jaw jumps with irritation.

Soap stops pushing, but there's a look in his eye that you don't like at all. He knows he's bigger and stronger than you. All he has to do is pull back a little too hard, and he could easily yank you off Gaz's tail and into his own arms instead. He can make you do whatever he wants, and he knows it.

It makes you all the more aware of the strength of his body between your knees. He could pin you down so easily—he could crush you with the sheer size of him—and you'd never be able to do anything about it.

Before either of you makes a move, Gaz growls at Soap in their mer language. Soap's eyes snap up to Gaz's. His face tightens. His hands loosen and slide slowly out from under your shirt.

You watch it happen with an unsteady glare. But now they're watching each other rather than you. It only holds for a moment before Soap pulls his gaze away. He looks almost bored as he lets his hands drift back to your thighs.

"Fine," he murmurs. But the look in his eyes still leaves you with the uneasy feeling that he isn't entirely done with you.

Fine is the only word of it you understand, but you still feel the agitation in their tone and the subtle shifts of muscles in Gaz's back and shoulders against your chest. Still, he seems fine with Soap's hands on you as long as he's not agitating you further.

You look down at Gaz's claws. His grip on you stays tight. He isn't rough, exactly, but his hands are big and his touch is insistent and slightly possessive. His hands drift lazily over your hips, up your ribs, across the tops of your thighs. It feels like he's keeping track of every inch of you he's already felt.

You squeeze your legs together stubbornly when he gets close to your inner thighs.

His grip is like iron. You feel the muscles of his tail working beneath you as he shifts to get you just right again.

"Let me in," he murmurs.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"And why not?" His hands wander up and down the seam of your legs.

You get the impression that he can smell you getting wet when you when you're squished up close against him like this. Does he think you're putting out crazy pheromones or something? A twinge of shame makes you look away. "Because we're mismatched."

"Mismatched?" He snorts and pulls you forward so you're leaning further back and against his chest. It exposes your neck to him and his eyes darken. "Your kind has a real obsession with categorizing everything, don't you? We can be matched just fine."

"But we're not, like, physically... you know... it would be weird. It's like having sex with an animal."

"I don't think humans are animals," Gaz murmurs. He draws his claws over the outside of your thigh--not causing pain or leaving marks, but stimulating the nerves under your skin with small jolts. "Besides in the literal sense. But then we both are."

You say nothing. His fingertips brush up the backs of your knees, and a shiver of awareness travels all the way down your spine to your toes. His voice is low and soft as he speaks to Soap in their language again. He rubs his thumb in tiny circles on the back of your knee.

If you knew what he was saying, you'd realise that he's telling Soap that you're nervous.

"It would be weird," you say again.

Soap scoffs. "You keep saying that word. Weirrrd," he repeats in a voice edged with disdain and mimicking your accent. "Why does it matter? There's no one else here."

Gaz tilts his head down in an attempt to catch your eye. "You're not even a little bit curious? You humans are always so desperate to know why and how things work. You used to poke and prod us. You're usually curious about stuff like this." His voice drops lower. "About new experiences. What if I told you that this could feel good?"

"It's still wrong." Even as you say it, you're starting to wonder. You're already pretty sure they won't hurt you. They would have already if they didn't care, right? But you can't bear to think about how disgusted people would be if they knew you were seriously considering this.

"You think it's wrong?" Gaz’s voice takes on an edge. "Humans have a lot of strange rules that don't make any sense. Do you really think we're that different?"

"Yeah."

His gaze drops to your lips. "That's what you humans get so wrong. You think everything means something. Rubbish. Sometimes things can just feel good. And this" --he strokes the sensitive skin of your ankle-- "could feel so good. If you let me in, you'll be warm and safe. That’s what you want, yeah? To be looked after?"

"I don't... I don't know."

Gaz hums and rubs your ankle. Your skin is softer than the salt-smoothed calluses of his hands, and your leg is so small. He feels like he would barely have to squeeze to break it in two. "It's okay not to know, you know," he says. "You've been through a lot. Can I tell you more about us?" he asks, voice low and soft. "About our kind?"

His voice seems to soothe your ragged nerves. "I guess so."

"Good human." He leans very close, his mouth against the shell of your ear. His hands tighten on your thighs again. You’re at his fingertips. You’ll be his in no time. "We're not so different. We hunt and we play. We fight and we... enjoy things." He traces his claw along the line of your legs again. "We can feel things other creatures can't. Sounds too quiet for other prey, smells under water, under the salt. We like the smell of other creatures. What do humans like to smell?"

"Um... flowers, I guess. And food. Baked goods."

He huffs a laugh. "What a waste of your senses." He slides his claw along the outside of your calf. "You humans like things to be clean, huh? Nice warm water and soap. So many rules and little rituals with your cleaning."

"Yeah, so?"

"But then you spend half of your time dirtying each other again. Fighting and rutting and making messes. Humans are strange. Your rules get in the way of your senses."

"We need rules to protect ourselves."

"You need rules to limit yourself," Gaz says. "No wonder you act so fragile. If you'd let yourself enjoy things, everything wouldn't seem so dangerous."

Soap watches you steadily. He can smell the way you're reacting as Gaz's voice washes over you and the way you melt slightly every time he touches you.

You huff. "That's easy for you to say."

"Humans keep themselves vulnerable. No claws, no callouses," Gaz says as he runs his free hand over your upper arm. Your skin is so smooth, he can feel the tiny hairs standing up as his hand passes over them. You really are like a seal—all big eyes and soft give everywhere and no bite to you whatsoever. Except your words, maybe. " How do you defend yourself like this? How do you hunt?"

You don't reply.

His hand finds its way into your hair, claws tracing lines over your scalp. "Do you know what it is to hunt by yourself? Taking charge when something catches your interest. Taking things that you want."

"Not really."

"It's thrilling."

"To be stronger and faster?"

"More than that. Feeling another creature's pulse beneath your teeth, hearing the crunch of bone as it gives way. Knowing you've caught your prey." Gaz strokes the hair back from your ear. His voice and fingers send pleasurable tingles down your spine. He pulls you closer to himself as he speaks so you can fully feel his large frame cradled around yours. “We don't have many possessions," he says. "We like having something that's ours."

"Oh."

"And humans are small," he murmurs. "So soft and small." He rubs circles into your scalp, and you feel his voice as much as you hear it. "So warm and pliable. Easy to hold and keep."

You catch Soap grin and realize you've been staring at him.

"See somethin' you like, hen?"

You flush and look away.

Gaz shifts to comfort you. "Don't look away," he murmurs. His big hand comes up and catches your jaw to make you look up at Soap again. "Watch his eyes. Listen to my voice."

You blink at Soap. Your mind feels sluggish. But Soap is nice to look at. And Gaz is nice to listen to. His voice is low and soothing. His hands drift. The fingertips of one hand trace your collarbone and the other strokes the softness of your throat. Your eyelids are a little heavy.

Gaz watches you for a moment before leaning very close. "Good," he whispers, and Soap's eyes darken. "Easy to hold. Just like I said."

You feel the vibrations of his voice in his chest. His voice soothes you so completely that the old legends about sirens enticing humans with their hypnotic voices surfaces briefly in your mind. Then it disappears.

His hand continues, and the soft, slow touches lull you further. Your stress ebbs away grain by grain. It’s replaced by anticipation. He rubs the soft skin of your cheek with the pad of his thumb, and you feel the calluses on his hands.

"That's a good human." He keeps using that low voice to praise you. Soft warmth and anticipation curl low in your belly. "Just keep looking." He slides a hand down your spine and across your lower back. Your muscles and your mind unwind slowly like a fraying rope. "You remember when I was telling you about a merman's bed, yeah?"

"Mm."

"That's good. Now pay attention. I want you to hear what I say. They're comfortable," he murmurs. "Warm and soft, all lined with sand that's been warmed in the sun. Perfect to lay in. To writhe in. To sink into." As if to show you, his hands slide under your wet shirt and press against the small of your back. He rubs the warm softness of your skin, and goosebumps rise where his hands pass over. "Imagine it. Imagine sinking in. Sinking in. Sink with my voice."

Your eyelids droop even more. You're sleepy.

"You're doing so well." Gaz feels how relaxed you are—the tension out of your muscles and how your limbs feel like they're melting into his. "Sink with my voice," he repeats. "You don't need to struggle anymore. Everything's alright. You're safe with us. Just let yourself… drift."

A sweet, heavy, warm softness like sinking into a hot bath. Like sinking into the sand under his hands. He guides you into a light doze and continues stroking your back and murmuring praise, your body growing heavy and lax beneath his warm hands.

"Shh," Gaz says. You're sinking deep. He guides you down into a soft, warm haze full of quiet, soothing sounds. Even Soap is watching you with a soft, rapt interest, not wanting to ruin the moment. They're taking care of you right where you belong. Deep. Safe. Warm. Comforting.

"What do you see in that bed with you?" Gaz murmurs. "One merman? Two?"

"Hmm?"

"Can't think straight, can you? You're so relaxed." He moves so his hands slide around your waist again. He knows you can't escape this time, even if you wanted to. And you look so sweet and soft. He knows you're almost asleep, almost floating away from him. "I know. Keep listening. Can you tell me what you see yet?"

"Blankets."

"That sounds so nice, doesn't it?" Gaz murmurs. His hands shift again, one drifting all the way to the back of your neck. His voice is as quiet and warm and comforting as a blanket over you. "Just sink into my voice. Keep listening. What else is in that bed with you?"

"Stuffed animals."

Gaz laughs, but it's low and soothing. "Like a child has? That's cute. But it's not like you need them."

You huff, your hypnotic trance vaguely disrupted by his words. "You asked me."

"And I got my answer." Gaz's hand slides up your neck to rest on your jaw. He strokes your pulse point again. "You're getting a little too close to falling asleep. You need to stay awake for this."

Soap has drifted closer, his dark eyes watching you. He looks hungry, but Gaz doesn't push you towards him yet. Not while you're so out of it. "Fine, fine." He rubs your neck again, and you feel your muscles melt under the pressure. "What kind of stuffed animal?"

"Hmm..."

Gaz hums back, his voice deep and soothing. Your eyes are already so heavy, your body is so relaxed in his arms. Your breath is slow and steady, and your skin feels warmer to his touch. Gaz can smell the change in your scent, your body's response to him—to all of this.

"I'm curious now." His voice is low and dark against your sensitive ear. "If you're going to have stuffed animals in your bed, I want to know what kind."

"Octopus."

"An octopus?" He murmurs. "So you want something with so many arms to wrap around you? Something tight and big?" He's so close to your ear now that his lips brush it. "You want to be wrapped up and covered and surrounded?"

"Mm... maybe. Yeah."

Your voice is heavy with drowsiness. He keeps you skirting that line between consciousness and sleep. Your body in his arms is puppet-like.

"You want to be surrounded by so many arms. Maybe even pressed against us with no space to move, yeah?" He slides a hand down your stomach.

"Mmhmm."

"Mm. So you want to sink into a nice bed, surrounded by an octopus with its big, plush arms. Surrounded on all sides with soft, soft tentacles that cover you. You want something big and soft and heavy on top of you--resting between your legs and keeping you warm and safe." His hands slide around you again. "Would that make you feel safe and protected?"

You murmur an affirmation.

"And do you feel safe and protected here? Now?"

You murmur another one.

Something like a smile curves Gaz's mouth. It's sweet that you're answering without thinking. "Mm," he hums, and he slides both hands down your thighs. His claws trace little circles on your sensitive skin. "Very good. Hold onto that feeling as you come up, human." Gaz lifts his eyes to Soap's. "We're just curious. We won't hurt you. We just want to see what you feel like. Is that alright?"

"What I feel like?"

Soap looks down at you. You barely open your eyes. Barely even react, even though you can feel his claws grazing your thigh, even though his eyes are dark and his lips parted slightly. Your eyes are so heavy, your brain so slow.

"Mm," Gaz murmurs again, and his chin brushes your ear. "Your skin's soft. Soft and warm. We want to feel you." His hands slide up your chest again, your breath shuddering at their passing, and he holds you up so your back is against his chest but your legs are still spread over his tail. He smiles. You're so close to sleep, but he doesn't want you to miss this. "Shh. You'll see. You just need to let us touch you, okay?"

"Oh." You let your legs slide to the sides of Gaz's tail and into Soap's waiting palms. "Okay."

...

part 1 / part 2 / [part 3] / part 4 / part 5

more Gaz / more Soap / more mer au / masterlist

[yawnderu]

Captain's Wife - John Price & TF141 x Reader

work starting to feel like I do belong in the kitchen 💀so here's some Price domestic stuff to keep me going until Friday so I don't lose my mind.

Content: small drabbles, fluff, domestic!Price, vouyerism, John ''I share my wife'' Price, TF141 x reader.

I actually think about being Price's housewife quite a lot. Being a cute little thing he has waiting for him back at home, a domestic life for the first time ever, something he never even thought was possible.

He bought big house in the British countryside, just to make sure you're free from all the stress city life brings. Any hobbies you may have he fully supports and funds, giving you extra spending money on the side despite knowing you don't usually spend it, having all your needs and interests taken care of by him.

This man spoils you rotten without you even asking, having savings for years before he even met you and a good salary as a captain in the SAS. Anything you even glance at when you're out with him at the mall? Bought for you with no hesitation at all. Jewelry, clothes, lingerie; you don't lack any of those things when you're with him.

Any affection you miss while he's deployed is given to you once he's back, his fat cock filling you up in different positions, despite how tired he might be, he always has the energy to fuck his darling wife good. He always puts your pleasure first, making you cum with his fingers and tongue before he even thinks about putting his dick inside. His efforts don't come without rewards, of course, and it has become one of his favorite things to see you down on your knees, praising his thick cock and heavy falls, praising him.

Being a Captain comes with sharing many things with his boys- from gear, to his wife. The first time you're introduced to the boys, the thought of straying doesn't even cross your mind, fully loyal to your husband and simply happy to meet the boys he considers his family. It isn't until Price has you sitting on his lap with your legs wide open, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you in front of the younger men that the thought of having someone other than him hits your brain.

John doesn't miss the way your eyes linger on the younger men. Soap shamelessly has his dick out, stroking up and down slowly, basking in on the sight of his captain fingering your soaking cunt. Gaz is more subtle about it, though eventually he can't ignore his boner, pulling out the prettiest dick you've ever seen and stroking it with more enthusiasm than the others, free hand massaging his heavy balls, begging for release.

Ghost is the one who takes the longest to give into it, ignoring his painful boner being strained by his jeans up until John is fucking you. The sight of your attractive body bouncing on his captain's cock is too much for him, legs spreading wider on the couch to adjust his boner until his hand hesitantly starts to rub his length over his clothes, shamelessly thinking it's him the one fucking you.

And that fantasy becomes a reality soon enough, once you're fucked-out and your cunt is ready to take more, nice and wet for the men he trusts the most. He has rules for it, of course. They can't fuck you without a condom, anything you feel uncomfortable with is off limits, and if you show any signs of discomfort, they have to stop. Soap only whined about not being able to fuck you raw, earning him a look that got him to shut up immediately.

Gaz is a gentle lover despite how excited he was, eating your cunt out nice and slow, plump lips latching onto your clit while your hand gently pushes the back of his head closer, a teasing ''patience, love.'' escaping his lips as he lines up the tip of his cock to your entrance, slowly pushing in and giving you time to adjust to his thickness before he's fucking into you slowly, making sure every thrust hits deep inside you. He switches positions a few times, settling in for the one that makes you moan louder, hands holding onto your hips as he fucks into you from behind.

Johnny is more eager, more... youthful, just happy to be able to fuck you. He'd never admit it, but he's had his eye on you ever since he first met you, wishing he was as lucky as his captain. He eats you out for the longest, messily sucking and licking all over your cunt, lips latching onto your clit, tongue swirling over it, your moans encouraging him to go for longer even when his tongue is tired. He's on his knees in front of the bed, one of his hands busy jerking himself off and stopping right when he's about to cum just by tasting you. H's not enthusiastic about putting a condom on, though he quickly forgets about his annoyance once he's balls deep inside you, hands holding onto your waist as he fucks into you, fast and deep.

Ghost is the only one who doesn't eat you out yet, being slightly uncomfortable about the whole thing and about being watched. John knows Ghost ever since he was Simon, so he tells the boys to go clean up while he too leaves the room, making sure to be within earshot in case anything happens, despite knowing he can trust Simon with his life. He makes up for it by fingering your cunt, long digits sinking into it slowly, brown eyes fully focusing on your expression to make sure you're enjoying every second of it. It takes a while before he fucks you, condom rolling down his thick length and making sure you're all nice and wet before hesitantly pushing in, holding you in a nice missionary while he thrusts in and out, his massive body caging you in and making you feel safe. The mask goes up halfway, giving you sloppy, inexperienced kisses as a reward for taking him so well. Simon is a talker when he's close, face seeking shelter into the crook of your neck as he praises you for being so good for him, for taking his cock so well and making him feel good.

Once the boys are gone, Price runs a bath for you, asking you if you enjoyed yourself and if you'd be interested on doing that again in the future. He presses gentle kisses to your forehead, warm hands washing your body with love and care, allowing you to fall asleep in his arms even when you're in the bathtub. He dries your body and puts you to bed after changing the sheets, a look of pure adoration in his eyes.

[badkitty3000]

Five Hargreeves NSFW Headcanons

Ok, so here are some smutty headcanons that I have developed for Five over time. Obviously, this is my personal version and if you’ve read any of my stories, you will recognize a lot of these! Also, these are intended to be with a female partner, even though I feel like Five could be with any gender or orientation. If he’s attracted to a person and has a connection with them, that’s all that matters. I just write him with cis women because that’s what I am and that’s what I know. Let me know if you think I missed any! 😊

Warnings: Smut! Sex! Turn back if you don't want smut!

Let’s start with relationships: Five does not have the patience, nor the inclination, to care about most people outside of his immediate family. He knows he’s smarter (a lot smarter) than the average human, and spending more time than he needs to with someone else and their tiny brain is highly irritating. He does not have a lot of friends and doesn’t feel the need for any. That does not mean he isn’t attracted to women and doesn’t notice them. He most definitely notices. And once in a while he may indulge in a drunken fling here and there. However, when he meets that one woman that lights a fire in him, then it's game over. He’s done for, head over heels, no one will ever come close, in love for all eternity. He’s not going to fall for just anyone, either. Aside from having a body that he wants to fuck all day for the rest of his life, you also have to be smart. And witty. And not put up with any of his shit. Just because he’s in love with you, does not mean he’s not going to slip up sometimes and say or do something to piss you off. But when you come back at him with some major attitude and fight, he will end up loving you even more. Five needs a spicy woman to put him in his place sometimes.

Blow Jobs: Holy shit, this man loves a good blow job! Nothing makes him hotter than watching you service him. He wants to shove you down on your knees and watch intently as you take him all the way into your mouth until his cock hits the back of your throat. And if you can handle it, he’s going to fuck your face. Grab your hair in his fist and thrust himself into you until you’re gagging and drooling, tears running down your cheeks. Maybe he’ll come down your throat, maybe he won’t. He’ll let you know first, though. But if you’re going to be in a relationship with him, you better get used to having his dick in your mouth.

Cunnilingus: He may want you to suck his cock, but he’s more than willing to pay back the favor. In fact, Five wants to eat you out like the starving man he once was. Your taste and your scent drives him wild and he’ll take as long as you need. In fact, sometimes, he won’t stop even if you want him to. You can be begging him to stop and to fuck you instead, but he’ll just hold you down by your hips and look up at you with that knowing smirk of his; his mouth shining with your juices, and shake his head. Denied. Then he’s back at it, sucking and licking and fucking your pussy with his tongue until you’re a shuddering, crying mess, and your back is arching off the bed.

Orgasms: Continuing on that theme, Five will not come until you have, at least once but preferably a couple of times. He considers this a personal challenge, and he’s going to do everything in his power to make sure you’re screaming and shaking before he’s satisfied enough to let himself go. Ok, sure, there are times when maybe he does not perform as amazingly as he’d like. Times when you drive him so fucking crazy with the way you’re writhing underneath him and looking at him with that sexy little pout of yours that he can’t hold back. He’ll feel guilty about it afterwards, though, so once he’s able to think straight again, he’ll make sure you’re taken care of.

Daddy kink: This is it, guys. The big one. The thing that he absolutely goes fucking crazy over. You want Five to lose his mind over you? Sit on his lap and call him Daddy. Purr it seductively next to his ear while you run a hand down his chest. Remind him of it when you’re on your knees, looking back up at him with wide, innocent eyes, as you slowly unbuckle his belt. Moan it loudly just before he makes you come. Odds are, he’s going to be the older one in the relationship, so it just plays into his preferred role of the man in charge. He is the Daddy, here, and don’t you fucking forget it.

Cum: He wants you either covered in it or filled with it. Five loves nothing more than to come inside of you, watching his load drip out of you, dripping down your legs or pooling on the sheets underneath you. But sometimes he can’t control himself, taking matters into his own hands, and covering your tits or your ass in ropes of his cum. Seeing his semen all over you lights up that feral part of his brain because it reminds him and you who you belong to. He usually does this when he’s not thinking clearly, and then will feel badly afterwards, especially if he didn’t tell you he was going to do it in the first place. You’ll have to tell him it’s ok and that you don’t mind; that you liked it, actually. After he feels better about himself, he’ll quickly blink into the bathroom and grab a washcloth or tissues to help clean you up.

Dominance: Obviously, Five likes to be the one calling the shots. He is going to tell you, or more likely order you, to do what he wants. Whether he wants you riding him hard and fast, or on your hands and knees so he can fuck you from behind, he’ll let you know. Or maybe he’ll just throw you around, no words needed, until he’s got you where he wants you. He wants to overpower you, hold you down, pin you against a wall, flatten you with his body on top of yours. He wants to grip your wrists tightly in his hands and shove your legs apart with his knees. You are his to do with what he wants, but that’s only because he knows that’s what you like. It might not even be anything rough or physical that shows he’s in charge. It could be a subtle look in your direction, or a small command of “Come here” or “No” to your request that has you weak in the knees and doing whatever he wants. You might have him wrapped around your finger in every other aspect of your relationship, but inside the bedroom he is the boss.

Submission: There is one tiny little caveat to that dominance thing. Once in a while, you get to be in charge. Yes, he likes to be the dominant one, but he’s also up for being the sub every now and then. Maybe it’s a spur of the moment thing that you hesitantly try, and for some reason, he’s into it that day. Maybe he’s really pissing you off and he needs to be reminded that you are not a doormat for his temper tantrums and misplaced rage. This is when things can really get fun. Now you get to order him around, and he’s going to listen. Make him to eat you out until you tell him to stop. Tie him up with his own necktie and make him really work for it. Tease him until his cock is so hard and leaking that he’s squirming and begging you to fuck him. Rub your wet pussy up and down his shaft, but don’t let him in, until he’s whining like a little bitch and you laugh before finally giving in. Call him a good boy and slap his ass. He will do it all for you, because he loves you. And maybe because he secretly likes it, too. And when it’s all over, he will pretend that it was a one-time deal and you are dreaming if you think that’s ever going to happen again. You know better, though.

Dirty talk: Oh boy, he’s a talker. Not only does Five like the sound of his own voice, he wants to hear yours, too. He is going to lay out his entire dirty plan for you, in detail, out loud while he gets started. Then, he’s going to share with you each of the thoughts running through his head during the act, as well. It all depends on his mood and whether he’s being rough or soft, demanding or sweet. “Fuck me harder” “You’re so tight, you feel amazing” “God damn it, I never want to stop fucking you” “You’re so beautiful” “I love you” “You’re all I need” He’s not shy about what he wants to hear from you, either. “Tell me who you belong to” “Whose cock do you want inside of you?” “Tell me how I make you feel” He wants to hear all of it. There may be a few times where he orders you to stay quiet while he teases and fucks you hard, but that won’t stop him from chattering away himself. Unless he’s got some severe laryngitis going on, you are going to hear A LOT from Five Hargreeves during sex.

Rough Sex: Yes! He wants to fuck you into the mattress, or wall, or floor, or whatever surface he can find. But not in a violent or cruel way; he knows how you like it and he’s going to deliver. He’s going to make getting your pussy pounded into oblivion feel amazing. Shoving his cock inside of you, your leg thrown over his shoulder, sweat forming on his body, hair flopping in his eyes, jaw set in concentration as he rams into you over and over until you are screaming. He loves you, he’ll remind you, as he flips you over onto all fours and continues to fuck you so perfectly that you won’t be able to think or walk straight for a week. We’re talking hair-pulling, ass-slapping, sucking and biting until you’re bruised kind of rough.

Sweet/slow Sex: Also yes! Five likes it rough sometimes, but he also likes to take his time with you. He loves you, you are his entire world, and he just can’t believe you love him, too. So, he will cover your body with soft kisses, caressing every part of you while he tells you how gorgeous you are. He will worship your body, because to him you are the most perfect woman in the world. He will never love anyone else but you, and as he fucks you slow and rhythmically, with your legs and arms wrapped tightly around him, he will gaze lovingly into your eyes and tell you so.

Insecurities: We all know Five is the most confident man in the room. He’s arrogant and bossy, and isn’t afraid of anything or anyone. But, he has a lot of trauma, and with that comes shame, and regret, and feelings of inadequacy. Most people don’t know this about him. Most people except for you. With you, he let’s his guard down. He is safe with you and he can finally be himself. When the nightmares come, or the panic attacks, or just the overwhelming thoughts of self-doubt that plague him, he turns to you for comfort. Sometimes that means just lying there with you in the dark, as he lays his head on your chest and you give him soft kisses and run your fingers through his hair. Other times, he may need more than that. Because he needs to feel you, all of you, to make sure you are real. His touches and kisses will lead to more, and it all has to do with love and not lust, and his vulnerability with you. You are his lifeline to the only real happiness he knows and he’s terrified of it being ripped away from him again. He will bury his face in the crook of your neck while he thrusts slowly into you, kissing you softly and trying desperately not to shed the tears that are already making their way down his face. He wants to hear you say you’ll never leave him because he doesn’t want to be alone. And when you reassure him over and over with more kisses and whispers of how much you love him, he will eventually relax once more.

Names: Five loves to give you pet names. Sometimes they give a sense of his dominance over you, or may even be sarcastic if he’s being a jerk (sweetheart and honey can sound completely different depending on his tone). Other times they are just a form of his love for you and even if they are old fashioned (darling, my love, etc), you love hearing them from him. He likes to have a special name for you that no one else calls you, too. And he generally saves a couple just for sexy times (“go on baby, come for me”) that he knows drives you crazy. You can have pet names for him, too, and you love knowing you are the only one that can get away with that.

His own name: Along the same lines, Five wants to hear you say his name. When you’re whispering it quietly as he’s trailing kisses down your neck. As you’re whining and begging pitifully when he teases you and holds out on you instead of just fucking you like you want. And especially when you are screaming his name so loud the neighbors down the street can hear. It totally plays into his ego to have you moaning his name while he’s making you lose your mind with his cock or his fingers. Once you start sobbing and crying out his name in pure ecstasy, he’s probably not going to be able to last much longer because that is music to his ears. But if you really want to kick it up a notch and pretty much guarantee he’s going to be violently coming inside of you in a matter of seconds, use his full name. Throwing in a ‘Number Five’ is like an automatic switch for him and its game over.

Loud sex: Continuing on…he wants you loud. This goes along with the dirty talk and moaning his name. He wants to hear you. He wants the neighbors to hear you. He wants the whole god damn city to hear you. And he wants everyone to know just who is fucking you. Maybe it will make run-ins with neighbors at the mailbox a little awkward in the morning, but Five doesn’t really give a shit. He wants his girl screaming so loud for him that it’s a wonder the cops don’t get called. And he’ll wear that badge of honor proudly, just adding to the other list of things he knows he’s the fucking king of.

Kissing: Five loves kissing you. He can’t get enough of it. Yes, he loves fucking and everything else sex-related, but kissing is always incorporated, even with the roughest of sex. Remember, this man is touch starved, but he also doesn’t like most people touching him. You are the exception. The fact that he has found someone to love and that loves him in return is nothing short of a miracle for him. So, kissing you and being kissed by you, is heaven. You can feel all of his love and desire for you in those kisses, whether they are soft and gentle, or hungry and desperate. He kisses you in the morning and when you leave for the day. He kisses you when you come home and before you go to sleep. Sometimes when you’re just standing there, washing dishes, or sitting reading a book, you will look so cute to him that he can’t help himself and he’ll tilt your face up towards him with a hand on your chin and kiss you until you want to melt into a puddle at his feet. He will also ask you to kiss him, stopping you as you walk by him by taking your hand and pulling you in close, an arm around your waist. “Kiss me. Please,” he’ll say quietly with the most innocent looking face and your heart will break for him. It’s the please that gets you. But he really doesn’t need to ask, because you will never not want to give him as many kisses as he needs.   

Masturbation: If anyone is an expert in jerking off, it’s Five Hargreeves. How could he not be? It was him and his hand/Dolores for 45 years, and a guy has needs. Would he prefer your mouth or your pussy to stick his dick in? Absolutely. But sometimes you’re not available, or the timing isn’t right, or you’re not in the mood. In which case, Five knows exactly how to efficiently and quickly rub one out and then go about his day. He loves to watch you finger yourself, though. Especially when he makes you tell him who you are thinking of while you’re doing it (always him). He also has no shame in masturbating in front of you while you are taking care of yourself. Sitting there, nonchalantly and slowly stroking his hard cock while he watches you play with yourself, maybe giving you directions while you do it. It’s just one of the ways he reminds you who’s in charge.

Praise: Yes, he will praise you for being a good girl. This kind of goes hand in hand with the Daddy kink. “Be a good girl for Daddy,” he’ll tell you while slowly running the back of his hand down your cheek. If you follow his directions, he will give you all the praise you deserve. “Such a good girl, taking it so well for me” “That’s my good girl” “That’s right baby, you’re perfect” “You’re doing so good, just a little longer sweetheart” He might be demanding you suck his cock or flinging you around like a ragdoll on the bed and fucking you senseless, but he will always tell you how good you are being for him. Like the perfect gentleman he is.

Appearance: This includes body type, clothing, lingerie, hair, and make-up. Five does not have a specific body type per se. If he finds you attractive, he finds you attractive, end of story. He may have a slight preference towards nice boobs and a tight ass, but that’s just on a superficial basis. Chubby tummy? Thick thighs? Flat chest? Bony elbows and knees? He does not care. If he loves you, then you’re the most beautiful woman in the world and he wouldn’t want you any other way. He does love a tight skirt and high heels, though. Watching your ass bounce along while you sashay your hips in front of him will have him wishing he could blink you away somewhere private, flip that skirt up, and take care of business. And if you whisper in passing that you’re not wearing any underwear, he just might. Five loves you fully naked, sprawled out just for him. But his brain misfires a few times when he sees you in sexy lingerie. A lace bra, tight corset, thong panties, or even just a skimpy little tank top has him drooling and stumbling all over himself in an effort to get his dick under control. Wearing a sexy outfit like this is a good way to make him the submissive one, because he will do anything for you at this point. It’s actually pretty hilarious to see him at a loss for words for once, jaw on the floor, and licking his lips at just the sight of you. A flustered Five is the best. He doesn’t have much preference for hair style, as long as there’s enough to grab in his fist when you’re blowing him. Same goes for make-up. The only exception to that is lipstick. Five loves when you wear red lipstick for him. He likes to see the trail it makes over his body as your lips kiss and suck him all over. He loves to see it smudged all over your mouth, on his face, and on his cock. It’s just one of those things that reminds him that you are all his.

Possessiveness: Which brings us to this. Five can be a little possessive. Not in a “you’re not going anywhere without me" kind of way. He’s not at all like that. But he does like to remind you now and then who exactly you belong to. That body is only for him to touch, and kiss, and fuck. He doesn’t get jealous, because there’s nothing to be jealous over. He trusts you and you trust him. You are independent and have your own life outside of him, and that’s just one of the reasons he loves you. But he does get territorial, and there’s a difference. If another man puts a hand on you and you don’t like it, or someone propositions you in some way, well then they are in for a real big fucking awakening. Five may try to keep his assassin instincts to himself most of the time, but if he sees some random guy disrespecting you, things are going to get ugly. He may not even need to use any actual physical force or violence. Just the threat of it is usually enough. But if that doesn’t work, and the stupid moron isn’t backing down, well, that’s their own fault. There will be a fake, saccharine smile, and a derisive chuckle as the last warning. Then the poor bastard will find himself either punched in the mouth or facedown in the dirt with a foot on his back while being forced to give a teary apology for his treatment of you. If he were ever faced with the need, Five would kill for you. No questions asked. You’re in real danger? He won’t think twice about putting a bullet into some dude’s skull. Luckily, a few clever insults, some well-timed blinks, and a swift kick to the jaw are all he really needs to get his point across. Then afterwards, he’ll take you home and fuck your brains out, because you are his and he is yours, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.  

[makeitmingi]

Destined To Be A Girl Dad

Genre: Romance, Comedy, Cute, Fluff

Pairing: San x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Mom!Reader, Dad!San, Daughter (Choi Haeun)

Summary: When San found out you were pregnant with a girl, he could not be happier. You knew that she'll have him wrapped around her tiny finger but he'll gladly be a fool for his princess. And from the moment she was born, he prove it to be true.

Word count: 8K

Warning(s): Mentions of bodily fluids, giving birth, medical procedures, postpartum hemorrhage, (y/n)'s very stressed, scared, anxious and overwhelmed.

[A/N: This is a little 'flashback' chapter to when Haeun was born. I came across a lot of parents showing their newborn daughter and the dad's reactions just reminded me of San so much.]

San was rudely woken up by the sunlight that was streaming in through the gap in the curtains. Before he could even wake his brain, he got out of bed and went to close the curtains. He turned to make sure the sun wasn't bothering you. Thankfully, you were still fast asleep, unbothered by the sun.

"I love you." He leaned over to kiss your head, eyes scanning you to make sure you were comfortable and okay.

"San, I'm fine." You mumbled into your pillow, having felt his gaze on you despite being asleep. San chuckled, pressing his forehead against your temple lovingly.

"Just wanted to make sure you're comfy and safe, baby." He kissed your cheek.

"I'm the size of a whale, I don't even know what it's like to be comfortable anymore." You groaned.

"Don't say that about my princess. She's perfect, you're perfect." He laid down beside you, letting your rest your head on his arm. It was the best was to have you close to him since your belly was in the way.

"At this point, I just want my water to break already." You sighed in slight frustration.

"She'll come when she's ready. I know it's hard, baby. I'm sorry." He pouted, rubbing your arm.

"Want me to massage your feet or get you something?" He offered. With you going to give birth soon, your ankles have been swelling and bothering you so San has been very kind in giving you foot rubs whenever he can.

"No, can you just hold me?" You asked.

"Of course I can do that." San let you move on your own at your own pace to get yourself comfortable. You tilted your body so you could press your face against his chest.

"This should make you more relaxed." San whispered, reaching up to massage the back of your neck and shoulders.

"That feels good. You take such good care of us and she isn't even here yet." You melted into his touch.

"She's not born yet but she's here, she's a part of you. And I'll always take care of you and princess." San chuckled. With the massage and the sound of San's heartbeat, you slowly fell back asleep again.

"Sleep well." He stroked your hair.

Since you were due soon, San had taken some time off work. He still did his practices but there was less travelling just in case you went into labour.

Another thing is that ever since your pregnancy started, San has become a very light sleeper. He was always hyper vigilant and aware of your movements. Not that you wanted him to help you 24/7, he was just worried, he couldn't help it. So when he felt you stir and struggle to sit up, he opened his eyes.

"What do you need, baby?" San asked, sitting up just as you managed to stand on your feet and get out of bed.

"I'm just going to get more water, my bottle is empty. Go back to sleep, Sannie. I can manage it on my own." You giggled and put on your house slippers.

"I can get it for you, baby. I should have filled up your bottle for you before going to bed." He said.

"San, it's really okay. I can get my own water. And you did fill up my bottle, I just drank it all." You assured with a soft smile.

"Okay, call me if you need help." San told you. You hummed and left your shared bedroom to go to the kitchen. He didn't go back to sleep, he just sat there, waiting for a bit before going to help you.

"Sannie, do you want coffee?" You asked.

"I'm good, baby. I want you back in bed with me." He replied. He could hear you laughing.

CLANG!

"Baby!" San shot out of bed and rushed to the kitchen. You were standing there, the glass of water that was in your hand was shattered on the ground. You winced, knees starting to wobble as you held your back.

"Sorry." You groaned amidst the pain that you were in. Now San was worried you hurt yourself.

"It's okay, it's okay. Come. Careful." Holding both your hands in his, San guided you over the broken glass. He was grateful you were wearing the slippers Seonghwa bought you.

"Did the glass get you?" He sat you down and checked you, looking for any signs that you were cut from the glass.

"No, it hurts." You held your back.

"Braxton Hicks?" He bent down in front of you, helping you to rub your back. San knew that you have been having Braxton Hicks since you were going into labour soon.

"No, Sannie. I think it's real. The Braxton Hicks have never hurt so badly and it never reaches my back." You groaned.

"Oh........ OH!" It took a while for your words to sink in as San jumped to his feet.

"We should go to the hospital. Or should I call an ambulance? What should I do?!" He asked.

"Sannie, calm down. It's okay, breathe. It just started so we don't have to go to the hospital yet. But I should start timing how long they last and the intervals between them." You squeezed his hand as you reminded him of what the doctor told you, trying to maintain a smile as you felt him beginning to panic.

"Right, right. I'll help you. Let me clean up the glass first." San was reluctant to let go of your hand but the broken glass on the floor was a hazard to both you and him.

"I'm sorry I made a mess and can't even help clean it up." You sighed.

"No need to apologise, baby. You're in labour. You just focus on yourself and princess." He looked at you with an excited smile.

"You're such a goof." You chuckled. San shot you a flat look with a playful pout before returning back to cleaning. After he was done, San escorted you back to bed to rest.

"Are you timing your contractions? Are they getting more intense?" He asked as he retrieved towels.

"Still manageable." You groaned.

"Alright, come here, baby." San laid out the towels for them, knowing you would be stressed out if your water broke all over the sheets and the mattress.

"Careful. Easy..." He cooed, adjusting your pillow for you so you were comfortable.

"Shall I get you some food? A drink?" He asked.

"No but after the princess comes, I want a big coffee. A BIG coffee, Choi San." You held his collar to show how serious you were. With your pregnancy, you had to severely cut down on your coffee intake, which you did not really like.

"Of course, baby. Anything you want." He kissed the top of your head and went out to the kitchen to fix you snack. You did your best to stay distracted, watching San fancams on your iPad.

"Hey! I'm here!" You heard noises outside and put the iPad down. In came Wooyoung with a big grin.

"So, how's my god daughter doing?" He asked, reaching over to hug you.

"She's not here yet but soon, she'll be here in our arms. Just a little more." You chuckled, patting his back. Wooyoung was also very involved in your pregnancy.

"Even with the man right here, in the flesh, you're still watching his fancams?" He raised an eyebrow, seeing your iPad.

"It distracts me, okay?" Your cheeks heated up, closing the iPad before San could come in.

"Well, it definitely distracts you in one way because that's how my god daughter got here. And perhaps my future god children." He teased and you slapped his arm in embarrassment.

"Anyway, I brought you some food. San's too panicked to cook now but you should get some food in you." He told you. You laughed and nodded your head. Just then, San came in with a tray, plating up the food that Wooyoung had brought along with him. He placed it on the bed for you.

"Come on." Both San and Wooyoung helped you sit up properly so you could eat, even if San insisted on feeding you.

"Ah... Damn it." You cursed under your breath as another contraction hit you. San rubbed your back and let you squeeze his hand until the wave of pain would pass.

"So, how long can this last? Or rather, how long should it last until you go to the hospital?" Wooyoung asked.

"Dude, did you not read the parenting books I got you?" San asked his best friend in disbelief.

"Look, I tried my best to read two! I couldn't continue reading the other five." Wooyoung groaned and whined. You laughed and patted San's shoulder.

"It's fine. Basically, we time how long they last and the intervals between them. Then we go to the hospital." You replied.

"I already texted our OBGYN that the labour has started. She's ready when you are." San informed.

"When I am ready? More like when your daughter is ready." You chuckled. San cooed and kissed your temple. Even if you were full, you tried to eat at least half of what Wooyoung brought you. And you made sure both Wooyoung and San ate too.

"Trust me, you'll both need your energy too." You told them, holding the wall and slowly walking around. San had his bowl in his hand, his other hand held out to support you in case you fell.

"San, eat your food. It's fine, I'll manage on my own for a few minutes." You assured.

"No, I'd rather just be here by your side." He shook his head as he chewed his food.

"Is your go bag packed?" Wooyoung asked.

"Oh, I need my phone charger and the book from my nightstand." You replied. San was going to go but Wooyoung held his hand out to stop him, going into your room to retrieve the items for you.

"Don't know if you're going to be able to get much reading done with the princess here." San laughed.

"That's why I have you and Woo, right?" You joked.

"That's right. I am not leaving my princess' side." Wooyoung declared as he came out with your items, tucking them into the bag that you had packed and ready on the couch.

"You mean, my princess." San corrected with a glare. Wooyoung rolled his eyes. You laughed with a shake of your head. If the two were already fighting before your daughter was born, you can only imagine how much worse it was going to be when she actually gets here. Not the mention, the 6 other uncles waiting.

"She's not even here yet and you two-" You stopped mid sentence as you felt a pop.

"What?" San asked in confusion and worry. Until you both looked down and saw the trickle of liquid go down your leg.

"I think now's a good time to go to the hospital." San said and you nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up. You were frozen in your spot as the trickle was consistent.

"Text my parents. Tell them her water broke and we're going to the hospital now." San told Wooyoung as he pulled on clothes and grabbed you a hoodie that he knew would keep you comfortable.

"What's wrong, baby? Does it hurt?" San frowned, wondering why you haven't moved.

"It's dripping..." You mumbled, hiding your face in your hands.

"Hey, it's okay. It's okay, it's normal." San hugged you, rubbing your back. Tears welled up in your eyes, you didn't know what was happening, you just couldn't handle it.

"It's so embarrassing, I'm going to die." You cried. Even if you expected this to happen and knew it was going to happen, it still felt so embarrassing to have your bodily fluids leak out of you, especially in front of Wooyoung.

"(y/n), listen to me. This is normal, you're giving birth. There's nothing to be embarrassed about." Wooyoung assured.

"It's alright, hmm? Don't worry." San kissed your cheek, wiping your tears away. You nodded tearfully and squeezed San's hand as he slipped your shoes on for you and guided you out of the house.

"Careful, easy." San placed a towel on the passenger seat for you to sit before loading up the car and driving to the hospital.

"Oww..." You took deep breaths, feeling the pain become more intense and frequent.

"Sir, you can't park here." The guard said as San stopped his car.

"I know! I know! But my wife is in labour, can you help her? I'll move my car right after." San came out and opened your door. He watched as the guard called nurses to come with the gurney.

"I'll see you inside, baby." San squeezed your hand. You nodded and shot him a small smile before he got in the car and went to park.

Of course, you were slightly freaked out that you were now alone and without San, you were scared and nervous. But a part of you didn't want to make him panic even more so you took a deep breath and tried your best to calm yourself down, telling yourself that he'll be back by your side soon.

"Hey, (y/n)." Your OBGYN came into your delivery room. Since your water broke, the nurses brought you to the delivery room right away instead of checking you into a ward.

"Dr Min, I'm glad to see a familiar face." You smiled tearfully.

"Hey, I'm here for you and your baby. You're in safe hands." She patted your shoulder and began to check you.

"San's parking the car but he said he got you up to speed on everything? My brain's just a little foggy now." You admitted honestly, watching her put on her gloves.

"Yes, he did. Don't worry. I'll just check you now to see how dilated yet." She told you.

"I'm here! Is she born yet?!" San burst into the room, breathing heavily. The nurses in the room giggled at his outburst.

"Sannie, shhh. No, she's not born yet." You chuckled, opening your arms for him. As San made his way over, he smiled at Dr Min and gave you a hug.

"Looks like we're getting there but not yet. We'll have to wait a little more." Dr Min said, standing back up and removing her gloves to throw them into the bin. You let out a long, defeated sigh and San stroked your head.

"Thanks, Dr Min." San bowed his head.

"Don't be discouraged. Baby girl will be here soon." Dr Min smiled softly at you. You nodded and waved as she left the room. San pulled up a chair so he could stay by your side as the wait began.

"Are you sure you don't want anything for the pain?" San asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm okay. It's all on our princess, we'll wait until she's ready." You said, reaching up to hold his face in your hands.

"But you're in pain and I don't like seeing you in pain." He kissed your hand. One of the options that you and San had discussed was inducing or speeding up the birth but you wanted to push through.

"You're so strong, baby. You're a good omma." He smiled softly, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb.

"You do whatever makes you feel comfortable, okay? It's your decision." He assured.

"Thanks, Sannie. I just feel better with you here." You said. There was no other person you would rather have a child with. San was always there for you, always supportive and encouraging. He never pushed you to do anything you didn't want to do, he trusts your instinct and decisions for both yours and your daugher's wellbeing.

"You know I'll always be here for you and for the princess." He pressed your hand against his cheek.

"I just want her to be okay." You teared up. Hearing your suddenly serious words, San stood up from his seat, leaning over you. His eyes searched yours.

"Hey, hey. Where's all this coming from? Baby, you'll be okay. Both you and princess will be okay. I've got you both." He frowned.

"I know, I just suddenly feel so scared." You rubbed your eyes like a little child crying to her parent.

"It's normal to be scared. But don't be. Dr Min and everyone will take care of you." He comforted. As another contraction hit, you winced and squeezed San's hand. He rubbed your back soothingly.

"Let me get you some water. Breathe, baby." San poured cold water into a cup for you and held the straw out for you to drink.

"Thank you." You coughed slightly and grabbed a towel you bought to wipe your tears and sweat.

"Princess, I know you're comfy in there but omma is dealing with a lot of pain. Be a good girl and make it easy for omma." San said, pressing his ear to your stomach like he always did throughout the pregnancy. You ran your fingers through his hair.

"Ooh, she did not like that." San chuckled as both you and him felt her move and kick where his ear was. San pouted at your daughter but still planted a kiss to your belly.

"I'm gonna miss her kicks." San pouted at you.

"Alright, I don't know what you're implying but slow down, cowboy." You pushed his forehead.

A few more hours passed with San staying by your side and helping you through the contractions. Your parents and San's parents came, both mothers making sure you were okay and comfortable.

"Okay, omma. Let's see where baby girl is at." Dr Min came in again. San wiped the sweat off your forehead for you.

"Looks like we're ready to start pushing." Dr Min's head popped up.

"We'll be outside. Call us if you need anything." Your mom and Mrs Choi said, leaving the room to give you and San some privacy. They didn't want to overwhelm you further.

"I've got you okay? Don't be afraid, you can do this, baby. I know you can." San looked down at you and you nodded. With the guidance of your OBGYN, you began to push. San squeezed your hand and you tried your best to push. Even when you got tired, all the staff were encouraging to you.

"I can see the head. You're doing great, (y/n). Just a little more." Dr Min told you.

"She's out, she's out." Dr Min announced and clamped the cord, separating your baby from the placenta. You both watched as she handed the baby to the nurse practitioner.

"She's here." San excitedly looked over but still remaind by your side. Even as your daughter let out her first big cry.

"Go, see your princess, comfort her." You patted his hand. All you had to do was deliver the placenta.

"Cut here." The nurse handed San the scissors to cut the umbilical cord. He couldn't even stop the huge grin from forming on his face as he watched his daughter.

"Hi there, it's okay. Appa's got you." San cooed as the nurse placed the baby in his arms.

As much as San wanted to hold her longer, he knew skin to skin with you was more important. So he brought her to you immediately.

"She's perfect." San smiled as he lowered her down to you. You smiled tired and weakly, eyes blinking slowly. And before San could release her into your arms, your eyes closed and your head dropped. San's eyes widened in shock.

"She's hemorrhaging! Doctor!" The nurse yelled and Dr Min ran over as the machines beeped in alarm.

"Baby?! (y/n)!" San yelled out in fear. Your daughter began to cry and San felt tears in his eyes too. What was happening? What was going on? All he could see was your pale face.

"BP dropping. Someone take Mr Choi and the child to another room." Dr Min ordered.

"Please, save my wife." San begged as the nurse led him to another room.

"We will try our best, Mr Choi. Dr Min is the best. But now, you need to have skin on skin with your daughter." The nurse advised calmly and San handed the baby to her.

"Like this?" San removed his shirt, letting the nurse lay the baby against his chest. The moment she did, the baby calmed down.

"Please go save her." San cried. The nurse nodded and left the room. His parents and your parents came in, all panicked. Of course, San wanted this to be a joyous occasion, he waited so long to meet his daughter and now she was here, in his arms. But he just couldn't, knowing you were unconscious.

"What happened?" Your mother asked worriedly.

"I don't know. I think they said she's hemorrhaging. She was fine, all she had to do was deliver the placenta. I shouldn't have left her side." San cried.

"San, San. Calm down. (y/n)'s going to be okay. You need to be strong for her and your daughter." Mrs Choi told him.

"Okay." San took deep breaths. He and his daughter seemed to be able to calm each other down.

"She'll be okay." Your mother assured, wiping San's tears. San looked down at the baby that was sleeping on his chest. He gently kissed the top of her head.

"Omma will be okay." He whispered. Soon, another nurse came in with a baby basinet.

"How's my wife?" San asked.

"I'm sorry, sir. I don't know. I need to bring the baby for her checks." The nurse apologised. San didn't want to let his daughter go, even with his mother around, he felt like your baby was the only thing that could comfort him now.

"Can it wait?" San pleaded. The nurse looked conflicted, unsure of what she should do.

"I'm sorry. But if there was a birth complication, we need to check. I promise I'll bring her back as soon as possible." The nurse said. San reluctantly handed the baby to her.

"Mr Choi?" Dr Min came in and San immediately stood up, even when his shirt wasn't fully buttoned up yet.

"Doc, how is she?" San felt like he couldn't breathe.

"She's fine. Out of the woods. Bleeding after birth is normal but she bled a lot. But don't worry, she's okay. She's recovering. I'll need to keep her here for a few days longer though." She informed.

"Of course, anything. We'll stay for as long as she'll need. Thank you so much." San bowed deeply to the doctor.

"Now go be with your wife. I had the nurses send her up to your ward already." Dr Min smiled and San went up to the ward where you were wheeled up to.

When San entered, you were fast asleep, probably tired for the birth and the huge loss of blood. But San knew you were a fighter. He hovered over you and kissed your forehead, feeling another round of tears threaten to fall. Obviously he didn't know the severity of the bleed but he knew he almost lost you.

"I love you. Thank you." He pressed his head against yours. As he took a chair to sit, he held your hand the entire time.

"You did good, baby. You did so good, you deserve to rest. She's perfect, an angel just like you. Sleep for as long as you want." San said to you, even though you were asleep.

When you woke up, you looked around in confusion. Until your eyes fell upon San, walking around with a bundle in his arms, singing softly.

"Look who it is, baby girl." San turned and realised you were awake.

"San..." You began to cry. San put your daughter back in her basinet and came over to you.

"It's okay, you're okay. I got you. I got you." He hugged you tightly, his hand resting on the back of your head. You cried into his shoulder and San felt a lump in his throat too.

"You did so good, baby." San continued to comfort you for as long as you needed.

"Can I see her?"

"Of course you can, baby! You're her mom!" San laughed and went over to pick up the baby that was beginning to fuss. But as San gently laid her on your chest, the baby calmed down. She blinked up at you and you smiled softly.

"Hi there. You're so cute... You're perfect. Did you name her yet?" You cooed and looked up at San, who was smiling at both of you. He shook his head.

"You should name her. You've let me make a lot of decisions in the pregnancy, you should name her." You told him.

"Baby, I let you make those decisions because it was your body, you were the one going through the pregnancy, not me." San laughed.

"But I do have one name that I like. Haeun." He added.

"Haeun, Choi Haeun. I like it. It's perfect for her. Welcome to the world, Haeunnie." You smiled at her. San gave you a kiss then kissed the top of Haeun's head.

Since you woke up, San called Dr Min to come and check on you. At the same time, the nurse taught you how to feed Haeun.

"You gave us a scare earlier but you're fine now, (y/n). Nothing major. However, I was mentioning that I would need you to stay in a little longer just for observations." Dr Min explained. You nodded obediently, too preoccupied with staring at your daughter that was drinking from you hungrily.

"Thanks, Dr Min." You and San bowed your heads as she took her leave. You smiled softly, watching Haeun grasp your finger in her hand as she drank.

"You must have been hungry, my love." You cooed.

"She has a big appetite like her dad." San grinned proudly at you, making you scoff.

After Haeun had her fill, she fell asleep. You couldn't get up so the nurse came in to help you with cleaning her and changing her diaper before wrapping her up in a swaddle.

"Oh, so that's how you do it." San said, looking over at the nurse's actions, his glasses on as he took notes on his phone.

"Hey, grandpa. Can I get a glass of water, please?" You teased. San's head whipped around to glare at you.

"You're lucky you're cute." He glared with a pout as he handed you the water. You grinned cheekily as the nurse placed the swaddled Haeun in the basinet and wheeled her by your side. But San constantly hovered over her.

"Let her sleep. Nothing will happen with her a few inches away from us." You chuckled. You and San enjoyed each other's silence, well it was more like San not being able to take his eyes off Haeun.

"Knock knock." The door opened and Wooyoung poked his head in with the others, all carrying flowers, gift baskets and balloons.

"She's sleeping." San quickly shushed everyone.

"Sorry, overprotective dad over here." You snickered. Hongjoong held up a huge cup of iced coffee for you and you swear you nearly cried at the sight.

"Lifesaver." You whispered gratefully and received the cup in your hands to take a big sip.

"Slow down, baby. You shouldn't finish it in one go." San stopped you, placing his hand to push the cup away from you.

"I pushed a bowling ball out of me. Please just let me have this." You begged. San sighed in defeat and let go, letting you enjoy your coffee. But of course, you did heed his advice and drank slowly.

"Oh my gosh... She's the most perfect little angel." Wooyoung cooed, trying to contain his squeal, leading to him slapping Seonghwa's shoulder. Seonghwa hissed and pushed Wooyoung away. Before they could all get too close, San stepped between them and the basinet, pointing to the sink.

"Wash first." San ordered.

"How are you?" Jongho asked, taking a seat by your side. You assumed San had told everyone about the complication after birth.

"I'm okay now. I think it gave all of us a scare but the doctor stopped the bleeding and I'm fine, just have to stay in here a little longer for observation." You shrugged.

"That's good." Yeosang hummed. You watched as San reluctantly let the boys carry Haeun.

"She's so cute when she sleeps." Yunho cooed over Wooyoung's shoulder.

"I have a feeling everything she does is going to be cute to all of you." You laughed. You trusted San to watch out for Haeun and help the boys properly hold her so you could relax.

"You should rest more. I'm sure you've been through the wringer. We brought you food too." Mingi told you, adjusting your blanket properly. You smiled gratefully, watching Seonghwa take a rice porridge out of the container for you.

"We didn't even ask her name yet." Seonghwa said, wheeling the table close to you so you could eat.

"Her name is Haeun, Choi Haeun." San smiled proudly.

"What a perfect name for a perfect princess." Wooyoung cooed softly at the baby in his arms. After a bit, Haeun woke up and began crying. San patted your hand and went to retrieve her from Wooyoung.

"Don't worry, appa's got you." He swayed, patting her back softly to soothe her.

"He's got it. Eat up, get your energy back." Jongho encouraged. You took a spoon and began eating, glacing over at San and Haeun.

"We should go, give you three time to rest." Hongjoong said, checking his watch. The boys came over to give you hugs while San watched with a frown.

"Stop hugging my wife." He whispered harshly, careful not to disturb the now calm Haeun. Only when he placed her back in the basinet, he happily hugged the members who congratulated him again.

"I can't believe she's finally here. The princess is finally here." San let out little squeaks of happiness as Wooyoung hugged him. Wooyoung nodded with a soft laugh and patted San's back. Everyone was waiting for your baby's arrival, even more so when it was announced that you were having a girl.

"We'll see you soon. Take care." Yunho waved as the boys all left.

"She's asleep, Sannie. You can put her down." You chuckled. San looked up at you with a disappointed smile.

"You can watch her. I want cuddles." You held your arms up. At that, San placed Haeun down and came to you. Luckily the hospital bed was big enough.

"Are you feeling ill? You have to tell me or inform the nurse." He said as you laid on his chest.

"I'm fine, Sannie." You squeezed his arm, snuggling closer to him. San He reached over you and rubbed your back.

"I love you. You did so good, baby. Thank you so much for giving me my princess. Really, thank you. I can't thank you enough." San repeated, planting many kisses on your head.

"There's nothing to thank me for, San. I'm lucky to have you with me and to be the one to have your daughter, you've been the perfect partner. You're such a great dad, she's lucky that she'll have you to raise her." You smiled up at him.

"You always speak so lowly of yourself, my love. I'm lucky to have you and her now. And she has the best mom in the whole wide world. So she's pretty lucky." He said.

"Yeah." You nodded, the both of you looking over at your sleeping child.

"Is it weird that I already love her so much? Like looking at her makes my heart hurts." San asked.

"Not weird, that's called being whipped. Or being a fool for your daughter. She's a few hours old and already has you wrapped around her tiny finger." You lifted up your pinky finger.

"Don't make fun of me." He whined.

"But she's finally here, San. She was inside of me and now, she's right there. She's laying there, sleeping, breathing on her own." You said.

"All thanks to you, baby. Now, you should continue to rest. You're not 100% yet, take all the time you need to recover." San reached over to lower the lights so you could sleep. Since you were still feeling weak, it didn't take long for the tiredness to wash over you and you fell asleep in San's hold.

You were woken up by Haeun's crying but San already jumped out of bed, going to her to scoop her up into his arms. As you turned up the lights, you watched San try to soothe her.

"She could be hungry." You rubbed your eyes tiredly.

"Are you okay to feed her? We can use formula if you still feel weak." San asked with a worried frown.

"I'm fine. I just need the pillow." You said. San nodded and let you carry Haeun while he put the 'U' shaped pillow under Haeun and around your waist so you wouldn't have to carry her full weight.

"Is this okay?" San asked, adjusting the pillow properly. You hummed and fed a fussing Haeun.

"Good girl, Haeun. It's okay." You stroked her head as she drank from you hungrily.

"My poor baby must be tired." San came and reached over, cupping your cheeks. You smiled tiredly, knowing that this is going to be your routine for a while. But it was comforting to see Haeun peacefully drinking and staring up at you.

"Awww, now you're nice and full, aren't you, angel?" You cooed as she released you so you could cover yourself up. Since you were still feeling weak, San helped you with changing her diaper.

"Post birth poops are awful." You groaned.

"Nonsense, my princess' poop doesn't smell at all." San grinned dreamily, cooing at Haeun who squirmed.

"There we go. All done." San gently lifted her up, pressing a kiss to her cheek before placing her back into your arms. Haeun stared at you and you smiled at her.

"Your dad has become such a fool for you, hmm?" You tapped her cheek and she grasped your finger.

"Don't call me a fool in front of her." San scoffed. You smiled cheekily and San reached over to pinch your cheeks for teasing him.

"She's asleep." You shushed San.

"You should sleep too, baby." San waited for you to be ready to hand Haeun over him. Once you did, he placed her back into the basinet and tucked you back into bed, getting in beside you. He couldn't sleep without you by his side too. San softly sang to you until you fell back to sleep.

And over the next few days, San took great care of you and Haeun. He prioritised your recovery and took over so many tasks, making sure you were not pushing yourself.

"Hello?" Wooyoung came in.

"Shh, they both just went to sleep." You said from your spot on the couch, nodding over to where San was asleep in your hospital bed.

"Stealing the patient's bed?" Wooyoung tilted his head with a snort as he looked at his best friend. Despite being asleep, San's hand rested on the edge of Haeun's basinet.

"How are you?" Wooyoung asked, sitting beside you.

"A lot better. Can't wait to discharge tomorrow. But I couldn't have done it without Sannie, he's been taking great care of us." You smiled.

"He is a good partner and dad." Wooyoung agreed with a hum. With San and Haeun sleeping, Wooyoung decided to cut up some fruit for you to eat.

"I'm grateful that Haeun is such an angel baby and I'm not just saying that because I'm her mother. She's so patient and loving, rarely cries except for milk or diaper changes. But I can 100% say, she's a daddy's girl for sure." You giggled.

"Of course she is. San must be ecstatic." Wooyoung rolled his eyes.

"I haven't seen the smile leave his face since the day she was born. Everything she does, he thinks it's the best thing since sliced bread." You smiled at a sleeping San.

"He's a fool for her already. But I can't blame him, she's perfect." Wooyoung shrugged and you pushed his shoulder.

"You are just as big of a fool for her." You accused. But deep down, you were glad that Haeun is going to grow up with love from everyone.

"Look who is awake." You were washing your hands when you realised Haeun had woken up and was just laying there without making a fuss.

"Uncle Wooyoung is here to see you, baby." You lifted Haeun out of the basinet and kissed her cheeks.

"Ack. Luckily we're in a hospital because she's going to give me a heart attack." Wooyoung fangirled as you placed Haeun in his arms.

"Haeun." San shot up, having realised the basinet moved slightly from when you picked Haeun up. His sudden movement had made you jump. He sat up and looked around in slight panic, only to see Wooyoung holding Haeun. He let out a sigh of relief and you went over, standing between his legs.

"She's fine, appa. Wooyoung's got her." You chuckled, running your hands through his messy hair. San put his arms around you to hug you and pressed his face against your middle.

"I didn't even know I fell asleep." He murmured.

"You've been working so hard, taking care of us. You deserve to rest too, Sannie." You comforted him.

"Look at your parents. They're gonna make uncle Woowoo puke." You both looked up to see Wooyoung talking to Haeun, holding her in a way that elevated her to see you two.

"She's smiling." You pointed at Haeun's brief, lopsided smile.

"She just loves uncle Woowoo the most." Wooyoung cooed. San didn't take too well to that comment and marched over.

"My baby." He emphasised, taking Haeun out of Wooyoung's arms. He smiled down at her, planting a kiss to her head. You just shook your head at them.

When it was time to feed Haeun, Wooyoung took his leave. As you sat against the headboard to feed Haeun, San massaged your feet, noting that your ankles were still slightly swollen so he put on compression socks for you.

"Are you still feeling sick?" He asked worriedly.

"No, I feel fine actually. So we can go home tomorrow." You smiled excitedly, looking down at Haeun.

"A-Are you sure? Because if you don't feel right, you should stay for a few more days until you're sure you're 100% well again. Maybe we should speak to Dr Min." San suggested.

"Sannie..." Luckily Haeun finished feeding so you could put her back in her basinet. You moved closer to San.

"What's wrong, Sannie?" You cupped his cheeks with a concern frown. You searched his eyes and all you saw was fear in them.

"I was just really scared. When you lost consciousness, there was so much blood. The doctor and nurses were rushing..." San struggled to breathe and you hugged him, letting him lean on your shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Sannie..." You hugged his head.

"I thought I was going to lose you..." He muttered softly, hands gripping your waist. You rarely see San cry so seeing him cry and be so vulnerable around you was indicative of how scared he really was. And for San, he always believed that he has to be your rock so he really tried to keep it in.

"You've been through a lot too, Sannie. But we're here for you, both me and Haeun. You don't have to go through this alone." You stroked the back of his head.

"You won't lose me, lose us, so quickly. I love you." You lifted his head and gave him a kiss, caressing his cheek.

"I love you too." San wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to sit on his lap.

"Baby girl's smiling at us." San chuckled. You lifted your head from his chest to see Haeun looking at the both of you, squirming in her wrap but her head turned to smile at you and San.

"Our baby. That's our baby." You smiled softly and San turned his head to meet your eyes, nodding in agreement.

"I still can't believe she's here. No more talking to her through the tummy." San chuckled.

"Well, before you know it, she'll be able to reply to you when you actually talk to her." You said. At your words, San held his chest dramatically, squeezing his eyes shut like he was going to implode at the thought of Haeun growing up.

"Alright, appa... Breathe. Don't have a heart attack here or I'll need to call the nurses." You patted his arm. San pursed his lips and just pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

"Thank you so much, Dr Min." You said as you hugged the doctor, who patted your back.

"Take care of yourself, (y/n)." She chuckled.

"Do we have everything? I feel like we're forgetting something." You heard San in your room, trying to pack up everything, making you and Dr Min giggle.

"You and baby girl will be just fine." Dr Min squeezed your shoulder and left while you entered your ward.

"Everything okay in here?" You asked.

"Just fine, baby. Whatever we forget, we can buy again. As long as I have princess and you, that's most important." San grinned, holding the baby carrier basket with Haeun sleeping soundly inside.

"Want me to carry her? Or get the bags?" You offered. San shook his head, holding Haeun away from you as if you will steal her and run. Even if the doctor cleared you, San didn't believe you were entirely recovered so he didn't want you doing any heavy lifting or anything strenuous. You just walked beside him.

"Also, baby. Even though the news is out that baby girl is born, KQ says that they'll do whatever it takes to keep her picture and name out of the press." San informed.

"Great, remind me to send them a thank you basket." You chuckled as you both walked to the car.

"Are you excited to finally go home with us, princess?" San cooed to Haeun.

"You're asleep and probably don't care as long as there's milk, right?" He continued to talk to her as he loaded the basket into the car seat inserts that he had already installed previously.

"She's so cute when she sleeps." You adjusted her blanket as you sat in the backseat with her while San drove.

"She's cute doing anything, please. She's our child, of course she's cute." San scoffed from the front seat and you shot him a flat look.

You stifled a laugh to yourself, imaging how things are going to be when Haeun grows up, she'll definitely be leading her father by his nose. Well, in his defense, he did warn you about how he would be if you got pregnant with a girl.

"We're home, princess. Home sweet home." San cooed as he helped to remove the carrier from the seat clips. You unlocked the door to your home and took a deep breath.

"Feels good to be home." You let out a content sigh. San chuckled and leaned over to kiss your cheek.

"I need a shower." You groaned. San hummed and let you go. But you didn't want to shower too long, wanting to relieve San for a bit.

"Sannie, I'm-" You came out of the shower to see him fast asleep on the couch, sitting up and holding Haeun to his chest, who was also still asleep.

"Aww, look at you two." You whispered and took your phone to snap a picture, a smile on your face.

Only when Haeun woke up and fussed then San woke up, immediately patting her back to try and soothe her.

"It's okay, appa. Take a break, I've got her." You smiled and took Haeun from him. San nodded with a tired smile and leaned back into the couch to rest. You leaned over to kiss the top of his head before walking to get Haeun's diaper changed. Then you checked if she was hungry before feeding her, sitting in your rocking chair.

"My love. You are so beautiful." You gently stroked her head as she drank from you. You softly hummed 'Mist' to her with a soft smile on your face.

"Thank you for being born." You giggled.

When she was done, you burped her and walked around with her in your arms, still humming to her.

"Look at your appa sleeping. He's been taking such good care of us, baby. He'll protect you and love you forever, you're such a lucky girl." You spoke to Haeun, who blinked up at you.

"My two girls." San woke up, stretching his limbs and yawning as he caught you and Haeun.

"You should sleep more, Sannie." You said, sitting by him.

"I'm good. You should rest more, the birth and everything must have been tiring on you." He stroked your head. You handed Haeun over to him, letting her rest on his chest.

"I'll heat up some food for our dinner. You should skin on skin with her if you can. Dr Min says it'll help." You patted his thigh and went to the kitchen to heat up the food that your mother and San's mother had helped stock in the fridge.

"Auh, go to sleep, precious. It's okay to sleep. Appa is here." You could hear San speak to Haeun.

"You're really destined to be a girl dad, San." You stood at the kitchen entrance, seeing San coax Haeun to sleep. He sat there, shirtless with the small baby against his chest.

"I am. I am destined to be this girl's dad." San agreed, smiling down at Haeun, who was slowly going to sleep.

"ATINY will eat this up if they saw you." You joked. San rolled his eyes but still posed for you to take a picture of him to save.

"So, we're establishing here that you'll be the one to discipline her while I'm the good one that comforts her when she cries right?" San grinned cheekily.

"We'll see about that." You scoffed.

"Thank you, baby. For all that you did and went through for my princess to be born." San leaned over to kiss you.

"You know despite everything, I would do it again. Couldn't have asked for a better partner and we know this girl is the luckiest little girl in the world with such an amazing dad and 7 chaotic, silly but great uncles who will always dote on her." You smiled softly and laid your head on San's shoulder.

"Yes, she will definitely grow up with a lot of chaos. I mean, look at her godfather. He's the definition of chaos." He chuckled.

You nodded, San was right but you knew the boys, especially Wooyoung, would make sure your little girl grows up with all the love in the world.

And that proved to be right because after a day of hanging out with Wooyoung, Haeun came back home and said her first word.

"Sannie!" She lifted her arms up with the biggest grin on her face.

"What did you say, baby?" You stifled a laugh. She repeated it again and you saw San freeze, unsure of how to react. She didn't call him 'appa' but his name was her first word.

"She said her first word." You reminded San.

"Still..." San gave you a look. He was big on respect and traditions, he didn't want Haeun going around calling him by his first name.

"No, not Sannie, princess. Appa. Can you say 'appa'?" San pointed to himself, bending down to her height so he would be at her eye level. You were having a field day and didn't have the heart to correct Haeun, she was just so cute.

"Sannie!" She giggled bashfully. San playfully lifted her up, making her squeal with laughter.

"I'm going to kill Jung Wooyoung." San turned to you.

"Sannie! Sannie!" Haeun gleefully wrapped her arms around San's neck, burying her face against his chest.