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parkersroses · 3 years

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champagne problems. | harry styles.

summary: Harry and Y/N meet again after things fell out for them.

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

word count: 7.3k words

trigger warnings: mentions of mental health issues and attempt of self harm, angst. if these are triggering to you, pls do not read this.

a/n: (gif credits to @letsmakesomeonehappytoday) i’m super nervous about this, also this is definitely the longest i’ve written. i began writing this last december bc i absolutely love the context of the song and i felt like writing something that touches important issues like mental health. i read and did research on how i could write this properly without having it look like i was romanticising the topic. if you do find it that way, pls feel free to leave constructive criticism so i can further improve and amend on my writing. don’t feel obligated to read this if it is triggering to you. here is a link to some mental health hotlines, i might add some more in another if i find any that are reliable. don’t be afraid to ask for help or even help others if you know they might be struggling.

reblog, comment if you like it or not, or even start a conversation. donate to my kofi if you’d like to support me further. i love you all.

The relaxing and sensual sound of jazz music filled the room. The chandeliers hanging above casted a golden glow over it, making the room more elegant than it did. People were dressed in nice clothing for the new year celebration.

Harry was not one for New Year’s eve parties, having to prefer sitting in the comfort of his home, sipping on some champagne as he tries to ignore the loud fireworks going off. But considering it was one of his old friends that was hosting this particular party, there was no way he would deny it. He enjoyed having to see his old friends again after a busy year of filming a movie for the world to see one day.

He stands with his friend, Jake, as he holds a champagne flute in one hand. Talia, his recently girlfriend-turned-fiancée, standing next to him with an arm wrapped around his waist. It had been two weeks since he proposed and two weeks since she said yes to marrying him. It was a joyous time for them after nearly a year of dating. Some might think they rushed but Harry ignored them. He knew if the time was right, then it would be bound to happen eventually.

Harry’s eyes scan through the sea of people while Jake and Talia are discussing animatedly about something he probably isn’t paying attention to all that much. His eyes wander around until they fall on a familiar figure. He blinks his eyes hard enough to make sure they aren’t playing tricks on him, and they aren’t. The person who he knew and loved before. The person whom he intended to spend the rest of his life with. The person who left him, not giving him a reason as to why.

Y/N stands with Natalia, occasionally sipping on her champagne as they talk. He should have known that their group of friends would stay in touch with her, even after they broke up years ago. She wears her casual dark jeans, a black long-sleeved shirt and heeled boots. A contrast to those around them, wearing fancy dresses and suits. She always stood out in her own way. It was why he loved her then.

Harry let out a breath, seemingly couldn’t believe that his ex lover is here in the same room as him. Talia notices this and questions, “Babe, you alright?” Harry breaks away his gaze from Y/N before smiling at his dear fiancée. “Yeah, m’fine. Just saw an old friend, s’all,” he assures her as he sips on his drink.

“Oh, d’you want to talk to her?” She asks, and Harry shakes his head because if he did, he wouldn’t know how to act or say to her. “No worries. Maybe later,” he says.

As time passes, Harry finds himself focused on Y/N numerous times. In his mind, he is already thinking of ways to talk to her. What would he say to her? Would she even want to talk to him? Or were they going to pretend everything was fine before she left him?

When he looks around for her again, he freezes as he sees her eyes staring right back at her, almost looking in shock as he is there too. There is a glimmer in her eyes that he always noticed. She gives him a small yet timid smile from across the room before breaking away from the eye contact.

Harry decides to pick up what’s left of his courage in his body to walk over and greet her. He leans into Talia’s ear, whispering to her. “I’m just going to meet an old friend. You’ll be okay here?” He says. Talia looks up at him and nods. She assures him that she’ll be alright, saying that she’ll talk to some other of their friends.

As he leaves her side, he walks through the sea of people to look for the person he hadn’t seen in a long time. Harry finds her grabbing another glass of champagne from a nearby tray and he smiles at this. He always knew she liked champagne. She doesn’t notice him walking up to her until he clears his throat. She turns around and her breath hitches as she sees him. Harry’s mouth dries up instantly as his eyes gazes upon her. Despite years of knowing her, he still found her beautiful.

The corner of his lips curls up slightly. “Hi,” he says quietly, his breath slightly shaking as he spoke. He isn’t sure whether she heard him, but her reply seems to answer that. “Hi,” she replies, with the same nervousness in her voice.

“Fancy seeing yeh here,” he chuckles. Y/N smiles at this; while it was awkward to have seen her ex in a long while, he never fails to make the situation comfortable for them. “Y-Yeah, you too,” she stutters.

She is not going to admit it aloud, but she misses the sound of his voice. How deep and raspy it could get. She misses his voice being the first thing she hears when she wakes up, or the hums she would hear in her ear as they would dance with no music on. She misses his touch whenever he holds her close, warmth and protection radiating from his body onto hers. She misses everything about him despite them not being together anymore for a long time, she admits but never out loud.

Silence fills the gap between as they both figure out what to say. On one hand, they can pretend everything is alright and converse like old friends. On the other, they can push their fears aside and talk about what is actually in their minds that seem to have an affect on their current relationship.

“So, how’ve yeh been?” He hesitates to ask. He’s not sure whether she would lie to him or give him the proper answer he needs. The answer he wishes he knew. Y/N doesn’t know how to answer that without making it sound as depressing as it is. There had been many times she wanted to give him a reason why she left him, to give him a little bit of closure that he deserves. Perhaps it is her pride that prevented her from doing so.

“I’m alright,” she says with a small smile on her lips. Her answer could be a lie or the truth. “And, you?”

He nods slightly at her answer. “I’ve been alright,” He gives her tight smile back. “Been a while since I last saw you,” he says and she nods. “Y-Yeah, way too long,” she says quietly. It’s hard to ignore how insincere the smile he gave her is. Y/N knows him all too well, even when they were no longer together. She knows by that smile that there’s something on his mind, something he wants to say. But she doesn’t question it.

Harry is aching to ask her. To ask what happened between them, why she left him without a warning, why she had to break his heart the way she did.

It’s almost like she senses what he is thinking because she then suggests to him. “Want to go outside for a bit?” She gestures to the backyard with her head.

“Yeah, absolutely,” Harry breathes out. He almost cringes at how desperate he sounds. “Um, after you,” he says, gesturing his hand towards the door. She softly thanks him and Harry follows right behind her outside.

“So-”

“I-”

The pair speak simultaneously as they walk and they both laugh at it. “Sorry,” she says. Harry dismisses this. “No worries.”

“You look great, by the way,” she says. Harry smiles at her compliment. “Thank you. You look amazing too,” he returns the compliment. She blushes a bit before muttering a soft ‘thank you’ under her breath.

The cold air wraps around the two bodies that once knew each other’s intimately. The stars look brighter that night and Y/N takes a deep breath as she stares up at the sky. She doesn’t realise how Harry looks at the small breath she let out, or how he admires her side profile like he used to when she sleeps. He stares at her for a bit more, like he’s remembering again what she looks like, before averting his eyes to the night sky.

“Saw you had a date back there. Someone special I assume?” She asks out of the blue. Harry freezes in his place. “Y-Yeah, she is,” he blurts out and clears his throat. “My fiancée, actually,” he says and he looks at her to see her reaction.

Y/N is surprised at first, feeling her whole body tense up before she relaxes. But Harry catches it. “That’s great. Congratulations, Harry,” she smiles at him before turning back the stars. She promises she is genuine about it. But maybe she’s just telling herself that. “How long have you both been together?”

“Nearly a year now,” he says. Y/N lets his answer sink in her head. A year, she thought. We were together longer than that for you to propo-

“Seems like a short time, huh?” She jokes, but Harry only gives a small smile. “Is it though? Too soon to ask if we’re both ready?” He says, as if he’s mocking her and something. And that sent a shard through her chest. Harry curses at himself, he shouldn’t be saying things like that despite them not being together anymore. She looks down at the ground like it was suddenly the most interesting thing and shakes her head.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she apologises. Harry is quick to shake his head at her. “No, no. I’m sorry for how I said it. You did nothing,” he says. Y/N is silent for a bit before saying back to him.

“No, really. I didn’t mean to make things weird or uncomfortable between us. I’m just.. Sorry,” she says.

“How are you, Y/N?” He asks genuinely. Y/N is confused at first, wondering why he is asking the same question again. “I already told you, Harry. I’m alri-,”

“I mean, how actually are you?”

She turns to him, seeing as Harry is already looking at her with a solemn expression. “You don’t have to lie to me,” he says softly, almost sounding like he doesn’t want to scare her. And she knows what he meant and what he wants to know.

Y/N suddenly feels a lump forming in her throat and breathes in deeply. She clears her throat, hoping her voice doesn’t waver when she speaks. “I promise I’m okay, Harry. I just,” she sighs and closes her eyes.

“I don’t know. I’ve been getting by on my own. Trying to work on myself, you know, since,” her words falter, but Harry knows what she means. Since she left him without an answer to one of the most important questions in life. He nods his head slightly even though she doesn’t see it.

He lets out a sigh as he looks up at the starry night. “You know, it’s… kind of surreal. Us being here I mean,” he says. Y/N looks at him again with confusion written all over her face. “I’ve been wondering where you’ve been. I called but you never seem to answer. I just wanted to see how’ve yeh been, you know?” He confesses, throwing this big weight out in the open.

Y/N has her head hung low, like a child being scolded for stealing the last cookie from the cookie jar. But she knows he means well. And she hates how not only she caused problems for herself, but the person she once loved.

“I just… I miss my best friend, Y/N. I miss having her around,” he says, and he doesn’t realise how his words hit her like a truck. She breathes in sharply, feeling a slight pain in her throat. “And you don’t think I felt the same way then?” She asks softly, her voice already wavering.

Harry shakes his head. “No, love, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry,” He’s quick to apologise but she dismisses it while ignoring the fact that he called her a very familiar pet name he used to use on her. “It’s fine,” she says, and her voice is almost quiet enough for you to not hear her.

“It’s just,” she breathes out and she looks up hoping that tears won’t escape her eyes. “I wanted to let you in. I could’ve answered the phone. But I didn’t. I know how bad I left things between us, H.” Harry’s heart jumped a bit at hearing her say ‘H’ again. She used to always call him that. It still sounds lovely as it leaves her lips.

“I wish I could’ve told you why I left you kneeling with the ring still in your hand. I couldn’t, though. Maybe I wasn’t ready that time, or never was.” It hurts for her to say this because she has imagined spending the rest of her life with him countless times. “I’ve had this constant battle in my mind for so long. I thought that maybe if I ignore it, it’d be like it never was there and we’d be alright. But it got worse and I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I held it on for so long and I couldn’t say anything because I knew I’d somehow ruin everything. Well, I did in the end.” And she feels tears streaming down her face.

Harry feels his tears escaping his eyes too, but doesn’t make the effort to wipe them away. As if he’s paralyzed in where he stands. “A-And, what happened after that?” he asks ever so gently.

Y/N wipes her tears away and takes a deep breath before continuing the sad story they’re on. “I lived with it and the thoughts consumed my mind. S-Sometimes, they can get dark.” She confesses but not all at once. She won’t tell him how she felt herself crumbling down and how her mother found her unconscious in the bathroom, overdosing on some pills she found. She won’t tell him how hard she cried in her hospital bed over the pain she was in. It felt like a shard puncturing through Harry’s heart. The fact that she had been struggling all this while and he never noticed it, it kills him.

“Then, one day, I just decided to find help. I knew I needed help. And I’ve been having sessions with a psychiatrist for a few months now.” And she smiles through her tears. “I’ve been working a lot on myself, been on medication and all. Then, maybe one day, when I feel ready for it, I’d come find you, apologise for the problems I caused between us. Didn’t think it’d be tonight, though.” She jokes and hangs her head low again, like she’s scared to see what Harry thinks of her now. Just a girl who’s sick in the head.

There is an uncomfortable silence between them and Harry speaks up again. “You infuriate me sometimes, you know?” Y/N looks at him and his eyebrows are pressed together like he’s mad. She is once again confused at what he meant. “I would’ve listened. I would’ve helped you. I would’ve,” he pauses and runs his fingers through his brown curls, taking a breather so he won’t actually lose his temper. But for Y/N, it’s like she wanted him to scream at her. Yell at her for leaving him behind for her own selfish needs.

“I would’ve looked after you,” he says softly, and it’s heartbreaking to hear the pain in his voice. “I didn’t want to burden you, H. I wouldn’t do that to you,” she says gently and Harry shakes his head at her. “Is that what you thought? That you’d burden me?” She only shrugs at him with a sad smile.

“I heard it before.” She says, and it makes Harry furious that anyone would toss aside the state of her mental health. “It’s not because of your job, Harry. Or your fans,” she assures him. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you with what I’ve been going through. You deserve someone who isn’t as fucked in the head as I am,” she says.

Harry now has tears running down his cheeks. He now wishes he could go back and actually pay more attention to her, instead of being ignorant to it. He remembers when she left, the neighbourhood had quite a bit to say about the rejection, particularly on her. They often talked about how insane she was to deny his proposal because marriage is what every woman needs, right? Granted, he told them off not to speak about Y/N so poorly ever again, but he still wishes he could’ve seen the signs when it got worse for her.

Now, she stands in front of him, and it might be wrong to admit this, but she still looks just as beautiful as the day he lost her. Her eyes still have the same shine and her smile still has the same warmth to it. He lets out a small laugh. “This is not how I actually planned to spend my New Year’s eve,” he says jokingly and they both laugh, almost like the entire sad conversation did not occur. “I know,” she says, smiling at him. She doesn’t realise how her words took him back to when they would get drunk on wine while watching romantic comedies together on their couch.

“This is quite an interesting relationship you and I have,” he says smiling as he looks up at the starry night. She smiles at him too before doing the same. It’s the comfortable silence filling the gaps between them now. Just two people under the stars, one has it all figured out while the other has champagne problems.

She looks back at the building, gold lights still shining as people are getting drunk and ready for the countdown. “You should probably go back to your fiancée, H,” she says. Harry sighs as their time together has come to an end and nods. “Um, it was really great seeing you, Harry,” she says as her feet fidgets against the ground. She feels like a teenager talking to her crush again.

Before he even thinks, Harry has his hand up, brushing off the piece of hair of face, and his thumb lightly brushes over her cheeks a bit. “You too, Y/N,” he says, and he means it. Y/N feels her face warm up, before nodding her head at him and leaving. “Where’re yeh going?” He calls out to her. Without looking back, she calls back to him. “Home!”

He only looks at her leaving for a moment before calling out to her again. “Y/N, wait!”

Y/N stops in her tracks and looks back at him. “Um,” he fumbles on his words. “If I call you, not tonight, or tomorrow, just if any day after this, because we’re on good terms, uh,” he blurts out his words as she watches him, amused by what he wants to ask. “If I call, will you answer? Like I said before, I miss my best friend,” he shrugs and has almost a pleading look. Y/N’s heart melts at him and she smiles.

“I will, H,”

❊

Since their last meeting, a lot of things have been on his mind and one of them was Y/N. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about her and the conversation they had. He knew now that it must’ve taken a lot of bravery to speak up about what she was going through. And he was proud of her. He really was.

He has been thinking about calling her for a while. He just doesn’t know what he’ll say. He wants to know how she’s feeling even though he’ll never know what it felt like for her to go through the dark times she went. But he could try to understand. He owes her that, at least. He spends some of his time off reading about mental health issues and educating himself more now.

Talia wanted to start planning their wedding, which makes Harry fill up his schedule more between wedding plans and music plans. He tries his best to accommodate whatever Talia wants for their special day. Though, sometimes he finds himself not focusing on the shades of white she suggested for her dress.

Sometimes, Talia would get mad at him for not prioritizing their wedding, seemingly as it was a very important thing for them, well, more for her. She gets mad at him for not focusing on their plans instead of hiding in his studio. She once told him to get his act together because if he wasn’t serious about this, he never would have asked her to marry him. That knocked a nail on the head as she stormed out of the room after another small argument.

Part of him thinks it's the thought of marriage finally sinking in his head. He has the girl, he got a ‘yes’, it should be as exciting as when he asked her. But he finds himself in and out of planning, always reverting his focus back to music, like he’s stalling. He still hasn’t told Talia about Y/N, but there was no need to since he’s with her and not Y/N. When Talia asked about his slightly red eyes at the party, he lied and said something was in his eyes. She believed it, of course.

Now, he’s thinking back to the situation with Talia. He admits he hadn't been paying attention to her as much as he should or helping out with their wedding. But her words now stuck with him. If he wasn’t serious about marrying Talia, he wouldn’t have asked her. He tells himself that he really does love her and he knows she loves him. So why is he hesitating almost at the thought of marriage? Why does it feel like he’s leading her on? He was so sure he wanted her. Unless he only asked her for the hell of it and to not be lonely.

He sits quietly in his little studio with his thoughts as his company. What is he really doing? He really doesn’t know.

❊

She’s laying down on her sofa, staring up at the ceiling again. She does this a lot, having nothing much to do at home other than rereading the books on her shelf or following a recipe for a delicious meal. Instead, she lays down staring at the blank ceiling thinking of how her life went. And in the state of all nothingness, she thinks of him.

Meeting Harry again opened up a whole jar of emotions she kept hidden. It was no doubt that she still cared for him. She was still in love with him and if they were in another universe, she’d tell him that. She’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to him, for causing so much hurt to him. But she couldn’t. He belongs to someone else now. Someone who is more worthy of his love and time. And she’s happy for him, genuinely she is.

As she thinks about him, she recalls back to the days before it all went wrong. She remembers being scared. She had found his mother’s ring in between his clothes as she was putting away their laundry. She remembers being terrified of the commitment Harry was in. She knew for certain that he would ask her sooner or later. But for her, she still doesn’t know. She wants to marry him, but is she ready for it? Is she worthy of him devoting his love and time to her for the rest of his life?

That’s when the doubts came in. She was always battling the thoughts in her head more often after finding out that he might propose to her. She keeps a disguise up, pretending she’s not screaming for help or suffering, hoping that maybe it’ll go away and when he asks, she’ll say the answer he wants to hear. But she didn’t keep the disguise up for long.

When they arrived at Harry’s family home, she was overwhelmed. She saw the bottle of expensive champagne on the kitchen table. Their friends were there too. She was told they were just having a family gathering along with their friends, but she knew what was about to happen.

Nothing could prepare her for when Harry pulled her out the backyard, kneeling down in front of her with his mother’s ring in hand. She could still remember the look on his face, so bright and in love, then having to see it all disappear and his expression drop. He was speechless, so speechless that it took him a minute to snap out of it and run after her as she exited the house. She passed by the living room and had a glance of how everyone was rather to celebrate; no applause or cheers of congratulations were made.

She felt a lot of things that day. Pain, embarrassment, guilt, regret.

Now, a year later, she likes to think she’s doing better, not only for her family or Harry, but for myself. It’s safe to say it was going well for her, she definitely felt better. That dark part of her life was always going to be a part of her, but she was glad she did something about it.

She had struggled a lot before asking for help. She always had trouble sleeping and always felt herself drained to the core. She took some sleeping pills in hopes to feel better. Until one day, she just decided to down the whole bottle like she was downing a bottle of alcohol. She was lucky enough that her mother was around when she found her, her father too was quick enough to call an ambulance. It was too hazy for her to remember precisely what happened after. When she got admitted, she cried to her mother of how much pain she was in, and it killed her. She thinks of how selfish and stupid it was for her to do something like that. That’s when she decided she needed help, like really needed help.

It’s funny how life works sometimes. A few months ago, she was found nearly dead. She has been recovering now. It took a while to open up during her psychiatry sessions and her mother monitored her to make sure she was doing alright. She lives alone now, but still has her mother check up on her. She didn’t find it annoying, in fact she asked her mother to watch over her a bit because she doesn’t trust herself.

She’s healthier now, keeping herself busy to reflect and work on herself. And it did cross her mind a few times before to find Harry, to maybe apologise to him. But she thought that perhaps he didn’t want anything to do with her anymore. And that’s okay for her. Plus, she always hoped that he would find someone else that’ll love him just as much as she did him.

He hasn’t contacted her since they last met and she wonders whether he’s scared of doing so. Then again, she hasn’t made the effort to contact him too. Maybe they’re both scared.

She was about to get up and make herself some coffee after feeling a bit thirsty. She takes out a mug and sets it on the counter before she hears a knock on her door. She freezes in her place, her face scrunches up in confusion. She doesn’t remember having anyone making plans to come by. She hasn’t contacted her friends in a while and her parents would have told her that they would visit.

Knocks on her door snaps her out of her trance as she realises she is still in the kitchen. She slowly walks up to the door and looks through the peephole. To her surprise, she sees Harry standing right before her door. She pulls herself back from the door and thinks for a moment. How did he know where she lived now? Why is he here when he could have just called her?

Realising that he’s probably waiting outside for too long, she takes deep breaths and opens the door. There he is. Standing in his usual white t-shirt where you could see his tattoos through it, his black joggers hugging his muscular legs with some sneakers on his feet. His hair is a bit disheveled and she could imagine him running his fingers through it in a nervous and stressful manner.

“Hi,” he says breathily. His expression is somewhat hopeful, she thinks. “Hey,” she replies, giving a small smile. He’s fidgeting on his feet, something she knows he does when he’s nervous. So why is he nervous? She’s trying to come up with different theories in her head.

“Um, may I come in?” Harry asks. Y/N snaps out of her thoughts again and nods quickly, opening the door wider for him to walk through, hearing him mumbling a small ‘thanks’ under his breath. Harry looks around the small new apartment she now lives in, smiling at how it is very much her character the way she put things together.

She locks the door behind her and clears her throat as she faces him. “Sorry for showing up out of the blue like this,” he apologises. She only smiles and shakes her head. “No, no worries. I was just... wondering how you found where I live. I don’t think I ever told you that,” she says questionably.

The corner of his lips lift up just slightly. “Your mother, actually,” he says. She rolls her eyes playfully at this and lets out a small laugh. Of course, her mother would let him know where she lived. Her parents always loved Harry and treated him as family. Even when they fell apart, they still cared about him. After all, he was one of the only good things in her life that she cherished.

“Of course, she would. She still loves you for all I know,” she says with a sheepish smile. Harry throws his back in laughter and it makes her smile even more. “Well, I guess I might have to visit them again some time,” he says, smiling cheekily at her.

For a moment, it feels like everything was normal between them.

She shakes her head at him as she plays with her fingers, something he knows she does when she is nervous. “Um, I guess you’re here to talk about something else?” She asks, and she sees how his smile falters just a bit. “Yeah, actually,” he mumbles under his breath, but she hears him.

She nods with a tight smile on her face, seemingly trying to mask her anxiousness behind it. “Okay. Uh, just, make yourself comfortable. I’ll get you a glass of water,” she says, hurrying off to the kitchen before Harry could say anything. She sets a glass down and gets a jug of water. Her hands are shaking just a bit and she tells herself to calm down. It’s just Harry, she thinks. Whatever he wants to say couldn’t be that bad. Right?

She comes back to the living room where Harry is. He hasn’t sat down on the couch, instead he’s just standing in the middle of the room, looking around and admiring the little touches she put like the indoor plants and the paintings on the wall. She gently sets the glass down on the coffee table, the glass making a ‘clink’ sound on the surface. Harry turns around to face her and smiles, his little dimple making an appearance on the corner of his lips. She smiles back at him before clearing her throat.

“You had something you wanna say?” She asks, fiddling with her fingers. Harry nods slightly. “Yeah, I do. Um,” he begins as he rubs the back of his neck lightly.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to say, been practicing the words in my head. So, I’m sorry if it ends up a mess,” he says, letting out a small laugh. She laughs a bit with him too. Nodding as she gestures for him to continue, he breathes in deeply before letting his words out.

“After we met last time, I, uh,” he begins and she swears she could hear how loud and fast her heart is beating. “I’ve just been reflecting on how we left things off. And I promise I meant to call you sooner, but I just didn’t know what I’d say that won’t make things weird and awkward,” he stops to look at her for a moment and the expression on his face is almost so familiar to her.

“When you told me your story, I felt a lot of things. I felt… upset and angry that I couldn’t read the signs that were so evidently there. I thought maybe I realised it sooner, or tried harder to help, I could’ve helped you and you wouldn’t have felt to have gone through it alone. I hated how you were alone in this and how you helped like you couldn’t talk to me about,” His breaths are shaky, like he might break any minute. She wants to caress his face so badly, comfort him, but she knows it wouldn’t be appropriate. He’s still engaged to someone else after all.

She looks down at her floor, taking a gulp in her throat. “Harry, what are you saying?” She asks ever so softly.

“I’m saying that… you don’t have to go through it alone, darling. I’m saying that I wanna be there for you now. Albeit it has been months, but,” he pauses to take a breath. “If you give me a chance, to let me in, I promise to always be there for you and to be by your side all the time. Whenever you need me.”

Y/N takes a moment to process what he had just said, shaking her head at him. “Harry, I,” she takes in a sharp breath. “I don’t think you need to do that.” Harry’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Why not?”

“I just, I don’t want to burden you. I’ve already made it hard for my parents enough,” she says, trying to convince him even though all she wants is for him to be by her side. He shakes his head, chuckling a bit. “You’ll never be a burden to me, love. I want to be there for you always. It’s my choice to do this,”

“What about your fiancée? What’s she gonna think about her fiancé or husband soon when he’s out there looking after some girl, Harry?”

“You’re not just some girl, Y/N. You’re my best friend. And I,” he pauses in his words again and takes a deep breath. “What?” She asks nervously.

The corner of his lips lift up just slightly and his expression almost looks guilty. “And I’m in love with you,” he says and that’s when she feels that her heart stops. He loves me, she thinks. All the time, she thinks the feelings would have gone away but here he is, in her living room, telling her he’s in love with her.

“No,” she says. Harry is surprised by her response. “No?” He repeats.

“You’re not in love with me anymore, Harry,” she says, almost like she’s trying to convince herself that. “Yes, I am, love. I’m still in love with you, even after all this time,” he says desperately to her.

“Don’t do this to me, Harry. It’s not funny,” she says as her voice starts to waver. “It’s not fair to your fiancée for you to say this.” It’s funny to her how she still doesn’t know her name, but maybe she doesn’t know hers either. Harry steps closer to her and his heart breaks a little when she steps back.

“Darling,”

“Don’t, Harry! Please,” she practically begs him. “Just go back to her. It’s been a good talk and it’s good to see you again but you have to leave,”

“I don’t want to leave you, Y/N,” he says and it’s surprising how calm he is at this moment.

“Harry, I,”

“I’m not engaged anymore,” he says, cutting her off. She stares at him in shock and disbelief. “What do you mean?” She asks. He sighs as he runs his fingers through his hair. “I broke it off with Talia. There won’t be any wedding,” he confesses.

“So what? You broke up with her just to look out for me? Are you insane!?” She exclaims. She doesn’t want to believe that he broke up with her because of her. She thinks back if she would’ve hid from him during the party, he’d still be in a happy relationship with Talia with no problems. Once again, she’s thinking it’s all her fault.

“I’m as sane as I can be,” He says, raising his voice slightly to match her tone. She shakes her head, paces in her place, muttering ‘no’s to herself. “Darling, look at me,” Harry says gently as he steps closer to her. “No, this isn’t happening,” She’s now muttering words to herself and it breaks him even more to think she might think this is her fault when it’s not.

“Look at me, Y/N,” he says as he tries to get her to look at him, but to no avail, she keeps her eyes away from him. “No, Harry. We can’t,” she says and she realises now how tears are starting to fall from her eyes. “Yes, we can, darling! Just listen to me,” he tries to convince her.

“You belong with Talia, Harry! Someone who has her life put together, a-and, someone who’s not fucked in the head as I am! She’ll make you happy!” She tells him, almost trying to convince him to go back and fix his relationship.

“She won’t make me as happy as I was with you. It wouldn’t be fair to her,” Harry says to her as he tries to cup her face and wipe her tears. “What wouldn’t be fair to her? Huh?”

“It wouldn’t be fair to lead her on when I’m in love with you!”

And then, everything stops. Silence fills the room and all you could hear are the heavy breaths between them. Harry runs his hand over his face before speaking again. “I tell myself that I’ll be able to love again after you. But the love I’ll have for any other will never amount to the love I have for you. It wouldn’t be fair to move on with Talia when all I could think about is you. When I know I’ll always be madly in love with you,” he tells her, his voice wavering with every word he says.

She breathes in shakily, feeling the painful lump in throat. “Maybe if we hadn’t met that night, you wouldn’t have to think like that,” she says so softly under her breath, like she was ashamed. She looks down like a child being scolded by a parent.

She hears him stepping closer to her and this time, she doesn’t step back away from him. She feels his hand under her chin, lifting her head up so she has no choice but to look at her. His forest-green eyes, ever so beautiful, are glossy with the tears he holds. “I wish you’d stop thinking that this is your fault when it’s not, darling,” he says gently to her.

She realises how close their faces are together, feeling his breath hitting her face as they stare at each other with the same look. She sees it in his eyes. Love. And maybe it’s because she’s emotionally exhausted or she realises how there is still love in his eyes for her and only her.

She gently yet hesitantly puts her hand on his cheek, seeing as how he leans into her touch with his eyes closed, as if he misses her touch all this time. She doesn’t waste another second before pulling his face closer and letting their lips crash against each other. Harry is quick enough to reciprocate the action. His hand that is not on her hand wraps itself around her torso so move her closer to her. All he wants is to be close to her.

She whimpers into the kiss as she feels tears streaming down her face again. She misses this. She misses his kisses, how soft and plump his lips feel against hers and how they taste. She misses the way he pulls her closer to him because he doesn’t want any space in between them. She misses him.

They don’t know long they have been kissing until they break apart to catch their breath. She feels dizzy after the kiss while he feels like he’s on cloud nine. Their lips still brush against each other and Harry pecks her lips softly as she whimpers at the action.

“I love you,” she finally tells him. And it feels so good to say it again to him. Harry sighs shakily, almost in disbelief that she said those three words, and his lips break out into the biggest smile. “Really?” He asks. She giggles as her hands cup his face.

Harry sighs and leans his head back with his eyes closed, looking so bliss in the moment. “I’m sorry. Can you say that again? I wasn’t paying attention,” he says teasingly with a smug smile on his face. Y/N gasps and playfully punches his shoulder a bit, making him laugh.

“I love you, you handsome idiot,” she says laughing at him. Harry shakes his head with a wide stupid grin on his face. He rests his forehead on hers, their noses brushing against each other’s. “Again, please. Just so I know I’m not dreaming this,” he says, his eyes closed as he savours in the moment.

She grabs his face in her hands and pulls him away so she could look at him. He notes how soft yet small her hands felt as caresses his face. “I love you,” she says again, more gently but having more love and passion in her words. And she loves saying it because she does.

She has always loved him and always will love him. Her beats for him as his does for her. Her thoughts are filled with nothing but him. Looking at him now, he feels just as lovely and beautiful as the days they were together before. She knows that she’ll never love another as much as she loves him. She’ll fully admit that she is crazy, stupidly, madly and truly in love with him.

Harry smiles ever so lovingly at her as his large hands cup her face. At this moment, it feels right, like they belong together. Despite the odds and struggles she had to go through, he promises to never leave her side, to always be around, to always be the shoulder she needed to cry on, to lend her his arms to give her the warmth and comfort she deserves. And he admits that he is truly, madly and deeply in love with her too.

“I love you too,” he says as he brings their faces closer to each other, enclosing the gap between their lips again. He misses the way her lips gelt and how sweet they taste against his. He swears he’ll never get tired of loving her. Their lips move against each other slowly and gently as they try to savour in the moment. A moment that just felt right to them. For a moment, her champagne problems are forgotten, even though it’s still something that will always be a part of her.

They part away soon after, now staring into the eyes they fell in love with. Their smiles are permanently inked on their faces as the two lovers look at each other with the only things they have on their mind that will get them through.

Love and hope.

And somehow, that was everything.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles imagines #harry styles writing #parkersroses writing #parkersroses masterlist

471 notes · View notes

baekhansol · 3 years

Text

N.D.A | f.l

ℕ𝕠𝕟 𝔻𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝔸𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥 (ℕ.𝔻.𝔸.) noun

a contract by which one or more parties agree not to disclose confidential information that they have shared with each other as a necessary part of doing business together.

Happy Birthday, Felix Lee!

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : fluff!

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 : mature

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : best friend Felix x gn + nonverbal reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 3.7k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : reader is nonverbal, JYP is an asshole, wanting to lie about having been eating well, food/eating, mentions of wearing masks, I think that's it ?

𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭 : Felix has always been your best friend, and takes care of you when you can't

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : this was beta read by the lovely Dee Dee over at @sugasbabiie . Her notes and edits were wonderful as always 💜

this is also a friendly reminder that my blog contains nsfw elements, so do not follow me if you are a minor.

At one simple glance into your eyes, once allowing yourself a moment of vulnerability with your best friend, Felix knew what a terrible day you must have had. He immediately pulls you into a warm hug, pausing in case he meets resistance before squeezing you and holding you tightly.

"Have you eaten well?" He softly asks you, playing with your hair as he sways you back and forth.

You wanted to lie and say yes. You really did. But you couldn't get yourself to respond that way, so instead, you shake your head no.

"I'll make something then," he says simply, pulling back to look you in the eyes.

Felix finds tears welling up in your eyes, so he cups your cheek with one hand. "Have you taken your meds?" He checks.

When you nod, his expression gives away a brief flash of relief before turning back to genuine concern.

"Good. Why don't you go put your pajamas on and start getting ready for bed then, hmm?" He suggests, smiling sweetly.

You hesitate, considering saying no. You rack your brain, but the fog from your mental state makes the task difficult. You were fairly certain you'd never been braless around Felix before, but at the same time, you really didn't want to wear one.

"It's okay, y/n," he softly assures you.

Looking into his eyes, you remind yourself he has sisters. So you nod as a soft whimper accidentally escapes you.

You retreat to the bathroom, scrubbing your face harshly as you wash it. You try to get rid of the self-hatred and body insecurities that consumed your entire body, but particularly your face. Of course, it didn't help.

A whine of irritation escapes you before you apply the rest of your skincare. Afterwards, you slowly shuffle to your bedroom. You stare at what pajamas you have clean (which isn't much) and end up in a long sleeved shirt to hide your arms and pajama shorts. You made sure the pair wasn't too free flowing, as you didn't want to flash Felix by some weird accident since you didn't wear underwear to bed.

You slowly shuffle out to the kitchen, finding Felix at the stove throwing something together. Padding closer, you notice him making ramen. You ask him what he is doing with a soft “Hm?”

He gestures for you to come closer before speaking, “You had some ramen, so I’m making it with eggs. And now I’m adding in vegetables, see?”

When you nod, he smiles. “Do you want to grab a bowl for yourself? I already ate,” Felix assures you.

You nod and timidly get yourself a bowl and chopsticks, your hands unsteady. You manage to set down the bowl without dropping it, and Felix notices your lack of stability.

He moves from the stove, getting a plastic cup with a lid and straw, pouring you a cup of water before getting himself a glass. Felix sets it at the table before returning to the stove, getting your ramen together in your bowl. “Will you sit down, Y/N?” he asks gently.

You nod and sit, sipping your water and swinging your legs. Felix soon places the bowl in front of you, and you begin to eat slowly. He sits next to you after getting a napkin, watching you to ensure you don't eat too quickly.

Following “Dr. Lee’s” orders, you finish the entire bowl of ramen. Once done, he inquires, “Go brush your teeth, okay? Do you need to take your night meds?”

You pout but nod, getting up and taking the cup of water with you. You take your medicine before slowly brushing your teeth, trying not to let the sensation overwhelm you. When you finally finish, you pad back out to find Felix, who was currently cleaning the dishes.

You huff at him, upset that he was doing them for you. He wasn’t just doing the ones he cooked with, but even the ones you had left in the sink.

He says nothing but smiles when you hug him from behind and bury your face into his shirt. When he finishes and dries his hands, you drag him to the bathroom and get out a spare toothbrush, silently offering him to stay overnight.

“Go lay in bed; I’ll come and join you soon,” he says. When you nod, he takes the toothbrush and gets himself ready for bed.

You lay in bed playing games on your phone, curling up under your sheets. Felix soon comes back, grabbing a book off your bookshelf. He sets his phone on your bedside table, placing his there as well. Felix sits on your bed, leaning against the wall and spreading his legs.

“Come here,” he suggests, patting the spot between his legs.

You hesitate before sitting up, moving to sit in his lap, resting against his chest. He opens the book in front of you, making you giggle when you realize what it is.

“Didn’t your mom buy you this?” he asks, kissing your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder. You nod as he opens the book. “I still can’t believe she knew it was a Star Wars storybook and didn’t think it was a children’s book,” he laughs.

A little giggle escapes you, and Felix beams. He begins to read, his gentle voice helping to lull you to sleep. When he finishes the book, he helps you lay down and tuck you in. He puts the book back and turns off the light, smiling at the soft whine escaping you.

You wiggle a little, subconsciously craving his hold. "Lixie?" You manage to murmur, not even realizing it was your first words since he came over. But he knew.

"I’m here," he assures you, climbing into bed with you and spooning you. Felix wraps his arm loosely around your waist, handing you one of your stuffies to cuddle. "This okay?" He checks with you.

You nod, relaxing into him and falling back asleep.

"I love you," Felix says lowly, and you can't quite tell if you were dreaming or not. You two had said that you love each other plenty of times before, but this time seemed different.

You wake up in the morning alone and immediately begin to panic.

"Felix?" You cry out, stumbling out of bed.

You're quick to find him in the kitchen and nearly cry out of relief.

"I didn't leave; I'm just making breakfast," he assures you, setting down the spatula and hugging you close.

When you pull away, he looks at you intently, a smile creeping onto his face. "Good morning, sweetheart," Felix says, causing you to blush.

"Morning," you manage, glancing down.

"Go take your medicine. And don't worry about being nonverbal or not, okay?" Felix says.

You tried not to go nonverbal around others, but you had mentioned your frustration to Felix before. People, especially your parents, always ended up forcing you into talking. It made you uncomfortable and took up extra energy, exhausting you quicker. Felix was rather understanding at the time, but you were always afraid to be around him while nonverbal due to the struggle of communicating. But at the moment, it was going surprisingly well. You figure it's his patience and caring nature.

You go and do as he says, briefly wondering why he was telling you what to do and why you found it so easy to listen. You shrug and come back out, sitting at the table as Felix places a plate of eggs and toast in front of you.

"Eat up, please," he says, joining you with a plate of his own.

You begin to eat, letting out a happy hum as you do.

Felix’s smile grows before he clears his throat. "I have to go into the studio today, but I'm not comfortable leaving you alone, even if I take all of your sharp objects," he admits, his expression turning serious.

You look intently at your plate, finding the yellow of the eggs to be a lovely color suddenly.

"Will you come to the studio with me? You can stay somewhere quiet and read for homework, if you'd like," Felix offers, watching closely for your reaction.

You'd never gone to the studio before. There had been times where Felix had said it would be okay, but you never had the chance. You wanted to, but you were worried about saesangs, getting Felix in trouble, starting a scandal… you had, and have, a lot of anxiety around it.

You hesitate before nodding slightly, causing Felix to grin in absolute delight.

"Okay! Great! And the second thing is… can I borrow clothes? I know you sometimes wear boxers to bed, and I just need a clean shirt and sweats…" Felix asks, and this time it was his turn to blush.

You laugh a little and nod, hoping your clothes would fit him.

"Great! Then after we get ready, I'll drive us there," he decides, smiling to make sure it was okay with you.

You nod in agreement, giving him a sense of relief.

You go use the bathroom, relieved that he didn't get up and leave without saying goodbye, or that the whole thing was a dream or strange hallucination. You take your medicine before going back to the kitchen, sitting at the table where Felix had already begun to eat.

You hum softly as you eat, letting him know to the best of your ability that you appreciate his actions.

Once you finish your plate, you bring them to the kitchen sink and wash them. You go to pick up the pan, but you can tell it’s too hot to wash. You leave it aside to cool down, drying your dishes as Felix washes his own.

After drying your hands as well, you head to your room with Felix to get ready for the day.

Felix helps you make your bed, but you manage to do most of it yourself so it was made the way you like it. You sit down and hug one of your pillows, watching as Felix goes through your clothes and picks something out to wear. He ends up picking out your clothes as well, getting you a soft shirt, your favorite pants, and a hoodie that he could have sworn belonged to him at one time.

He opens your underwear drawer before you can stop him, a noise of distraught escaping you. Felix ignores it just as he ignores your sex toys and lubricant, finding a pair of boxers for himself and a soft, simple pair of cotton panties for you along with a wireless bra.

Felix shuts the drawer and sets what he chose for you on the bed, the soft blush adorning his cheeks visible.

"I'll change in the bathroom, ok?" He states, gathering his borrowed clothes and shutting the door behind him.

In shock, you stare at the door for a moment before managing to get yourself dressed and tossing your dirty clothes in the hamper. You get up and head to the bathroom, greeted with an open door. Felix had already changed and was borrowing your hairbrush.

"Sorry," he apologizes, somewhat sheepishly.

You shake your head and dismiss it with a wave of your hand, silently letting him know you didn't mind.

"Turn around," he says.

You give him a confused look but turn around regardless, watching his reflection in the mirror. Felix runs the brush through your hair, careful about your ears. He sets the brush down and runs his fingers through your hair, braiding it. Felix then ties it off with a hair tie, beaming in pride at his creation.

You give him an appreciative smile before he asks, "are you ready?"

You shake your head, pulling out your makeup.

"You know you don't have to," he begins.

You shake your head more stubbornly, crossing your arms with a huff before you point to your concealer. Felix chuckles, and much to your surprise, he begins to do your makeup. You turn to lean against the sink, watching as he concentrates on doing your makeup. His soft breath fans over your cheeks, and you were secretly glad you gave him a toothbrush.

Felix doesn't take long, giving you only base makeup. He does your eye makeup very simply, looking through your lip products before choosing the one he wants for you. Felix applies the glossy tint, his concentration on your lips causing you to blush.

"There," he softly murmurs, stepping back for you to look in the mirror as he pockets the lip tint.

You beam at him, turning and hugging him. He gently rubs your back before leading you to the door.

"Ugh, socks!" He remembers, turning back and heading to your bedroom.

You laugh and go to the kitchen, somehow managing to start cleaning the dishes. Felix comes back and looks confused, only to realize what you were doing. He helps by drying the dishes, watching as you tie up the trash.

"Eggs," you say pointedly.

"Good idea," he hums, going and putting on his shoes.

You notice he grabbed your backpack and keys, so you put your own shoes on.

As you throw out the trash, Felix goes and starts your car. You soon join him, using the hand sanitizer you carry for situations like this.

Felix turns on soft music, driving to the company after ensuring you were both wearing your seatbelts.

Once he parks, he grabs masks from his bag for you both. Felix puts his on before going to the passenger side door and helping you with yours. He slings your backpack over his shoulder, locking your car before leading you inside. You don’t notice Felix’s fingers twitching, but you did wish you were holding hands. Even in your sensitive state, you knew holding hands here and to the JYP building was not a good idea, as the possibility of saesangs taking a photo and starting drama was too high for either of your likings.

Once inside, security tries to stop you. “It’s okay, they’re with me,” he assures the guard, taking your hand as he shows them his ID.

The security guard stares you down before nodding and taking both of your temperatures. The guard stands to the side, letting Felix take you to the elevator and towards their practice room. He doesn’t let go of your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

Once off the elevator, another security member is about to stop you before they notice Felix holding your hand. “Excuse us,” he says, leading you around them. Their puzzled expression doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but you were glad they didn’t try to stop you.

He stops outside a room, pointing to it. “This is Channie hyung’s room, okay? If you need to go there for somewhere quieter, he won’t mind,” Felix explains, quickly pulling out his phone to check something. “Then we are practicing in this room today,” he says, leading you to a different door and opening it.

It was loud, as some of the others were stretching, talking, and dancing. Hyunjin smiles and waves as soon as he notices you, while most of the others shout their greetings. Changbin runs over and is about to hug you, but Felix stands in front of you, since Changbin was prone to hugging without asking.

“Do you want a hug?” Felix asks you, wanting you to be comfortable.

You hesitate before nodding, stepping around Felix and hugging Changbin. Changbin picks you up and spins you around, giggles escaping you.

“How are you? I can’t believe you came!” Changbin cheers as he sets you down, a grin on his face.

You step back into Felix, who gently holds your shoulders as you lose your balance. You look up at him, worry clouding your features.

“Y/N is… having some trouble talking right now. So, simple yes or no questions work best for them,” Felix explains, squeezing your shoulders reassuringly before letting you go.

“Oh, okay,” Changbin says, nodding despite not clearly understanding. “Sorry, Y/N, I didn’t know,” he adds, smiling.

You shrug a little, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“They don’t normally leave home when it happens. They generally are stressed and overwhelmed, so it helps them cope and is easier just to let them… communicate in other ways,” Felix further explains, moving to stand next to you and resting his hand on your back.

When you tense up, he withdraws his hand, but you stop him by grabbing his arm and shaking your head. Felix gently rubs soothing circles on your back as you accommodate yourself with the new space.

Chan comes over at the same time, smiling brightly. “It happens normally to neurodivergent people, right? Especially autistic ones?” Chan asks, looking at you for confirmation. You nod, and he continues. “Is it okay if I put my hand on your shoulder?” he asks. When you nod a second time, Chan places his hand on your shoulder and squeezes lightly. “I’m happy you came! If you need a break, you can go to my studio room, okay? Did Felix show you where it is?”

You nod, glancing at Felix.

“Okay, good! Today might not be the best day though,” he admits, looking to Felix.

“What do you mean by that?” Felix asks, rubbing your back.

Chan removes his hand from your shoulder and says in a hushed voice, “JYP is supposed to come to practice today.”

“I’m sure everything will be fine,” Felix responds with a tight lipped smile.

Once Felix makes sure you are comfortable sitting down, he produces earplugs from his pocket (you have no idea where or how he got them), and sets them in the palm of your hand. “In case it gets too loud,” he murmurs, smiling.

He straightens up as the choreographer enters the room, who they greet and thank. They soon start practicing, and you find yourself carefully stuffing the earplugs in your ears. You watch them in awe, looking at each of them practicing the new moves. Your eyes always come back to Felix, and you soon find yourself grinning like a fool. The song was amazing, and you wrote a note down in your phone to tell Chan, Changbin, and Jisung later on.

Right as they start a break, JYP himself comes into the room. You look up from your phone, the blood draining from your face as you try to meet Felix’s eyes. They immediately turn around and greet him, bowing and thanking him for his time.

“Show me what you have so far,” JYP says, heading towards you, standing in front of the mirror. That’s when he notices you. His eyes narrow and he walks over to you, and you immediately bow in greeting.

You feel the anxiety bubbling in your chest, threatening to overwhelm you as your breathing becomes irregular.

“You’re not an intern. Who are you?” he inquires, resting his hands on his hips.

You gape up at him, but thankfully Felix is quick to come to your aid.

“Sorry, JYP! This is my partner, Y/N. They can’t talk right now, since their doctor has their voice on rest-” Felix begins, only to be interrupted. Your eyes widen in shock as he introduces you as his partner, quickly trying to hide your surprise as he lies for you.

“So they’re sick? They shouldn’t be here then!” JYP demands, his face reddening in anger.

“No! They just aren’t supposed to talk because they had vocal chord surgery, that’s all!” he explains, doing his best to pull the lie.

Felix’s words seem to console and calm JYP, who huffs.

“Someone’s going to have to give them a non-disclosure agreement then,” he huffs, looking at the staff as if to tell them they needed to. “I will have a conversation with you later, Yongbok,” JYP sneers.

You knew Felix was in for it, but he gives you a charming smile before starting to practice.

You notice JYP’s glare every now and then, so when they take a break you make a beeline for the door, heading to Chan’s studio room and sending Felix a text with an explanation. You’re so caught up in remaining calm and composed that you almost bump into who turns out to be Mina from Twice.

Your eyes widen and you apologize, bowing and managing to say a soft, “I’m sorry.”

Once in Chan’s studio room, you move his chair and curl up under his desk. You put the hood of your hoodie over your head, doing some deep breathing. You take out the earplugs and put them in your pocket before turning on some soft, soothing music.

You close your eyes and don’t realize you had fallen asleep until Felix comes in the room, calling your name. Before he panics, he notices you under the desk. He bends down and offers you his hand, saying, “C’mon, you must be uncomfortable.”

You take it and he helps you stand up, your back popping as you do so.

“Are you hungry? It’s been a while since breakfast, and we all stopped and had lunch,” he explains, gently letting go of your hand.

You shove the hood off of your head, grabbing his forearms. “Did you mean what you said?” you ask, your eyes wide as your cheeks flush.

“What I said?” he asks, perplexed.

You stare at him for a moment before blurting, “You called me your partner…”

“Oh,” Felix says, his voice small. “About that…” he begins, subtly checking his pulse before rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable…”

“Do you want me to be your partner?” you bluntly rephrase.

Felix’s cheeks turn pinker and pinker as he nods ever so slightly. “I’ve thought about asking you before, but never did. I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way, and you’re my best friend…” he murmurs.

“Well…” you shyly begin. “You’re patient, caring, and help me when I go nonverbal. You’re understanding of my space and sometimes I swear you know me better than myself. You’re… Well, pretty much everything I want in a boyfriend…”

“Really?” Felix asks, surprised at your admission.

“Yeah…” you murmur with a nod, glancing downwards as you loosen your grip on his arms. You look back up and bite your lip before shyly asking, “Will you kiss me?”

Felix blinks, but smiles before pulling down both of your masks and giving you a soft kiss on your lips. You whine softly, so he cups your cheek and kisses you again.

After he pulls away, he smiles and giggles, “So about that non disclosure agreement…”

#kpopscape #kwritersworldnet #kpopficsnetwork #ultkpopnetwork #felix fluff #lee felix fluff #felix lee fluf #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #felix #happy birthday felix #lee felix #felix lee #yongbok fluff #best friends to lovers #f2l trope #felix f2l #skz f2l

147 notes · View notes

sweetsbfreex · 3 years

Text

a styles snow day

Summary: In Boston, with your family. You and H have a snow day with your daughter. After a hectic morning that is

Warnings: none!

Pairing: Dad, Husband!Harry x reader

The shuffling of soft feet against the sheets had shaken you awake, causing you to open your eyes. You ignore it, but before sleep could take you away again. A sharp strike, from a very soft foot, landed between your shoulders

You open your eyes wide, emitting a raspy whine into the morning air. Reaching your hand back to stop the tiny foot from landing another strike. In result you hear cute giggles causing you to turn, her foot still in your clutch, to see your eighteen month old.

You closed eyes for a second, letting out a low sigh before you scooped her up. Both of you laying on your sides, facing each other, one of her legs laid against your hip.

You reached your hand out to fix the catastrophe that was her hair.

“Not nice Ava...Why is it always me hm...Why don’t you ever wake dad like this?” you ask.

She stared at you, smiling. Only elevator music playing in her morning mind right now. Her small body encased with one of Harry’s very old shirts at her knees. One that his mother had saved for when he had his first child.

“Go wake up dad” you whispered in her ear, your hand cupping the back of her tiny ear.

She looked up at you, her face now amused at your special request. Without any questions, she shuffled her bum to her dad. Who was on his side, his back away from the two of you. Draping her upper body over his torso, her teeny legs pointed out to stabilize herself. Taking an arn that wasn't holding herself up. She reached her chubby fingers to her father’s eye, pulling his eye lid up.

Giggling to herself when Harry’s eye began to move around, then upward at her face which was upside down to him. Then she laughed a bit more when both his eyes startled open in shock.

“Daddy!” she squealed.

Harry groaned, a light pout on his face before he pulled Ava’s finger from his eye. “Hi baby” he smiled, pulling his girl over so she became cocooned in his arms against his chest.

“Mum set you up to this right?” he asked, turning his head around to see a “sleeping” y/n.

“For someone who’s supposed to love me...you are such a menace”. He told his other girl. Watching as she laughed, blowing the cover she thought she had. “Caught ya’” he mumbled, turning back to his baby’s giggles.

You got up, reaching your body over your end of the bed to place a kiss on his shoulder. Making your way over to the three window walls beside your bed. When you rolled up the first blind. A small comical gasp got your attention, looking behind you to see her shocked gaze on the snow.

“Snow!” She gleamed, removing herself from Harry and sprinting to the window. Her nose and palms all up in the glass. Watching the thick layer of snow that buried your spacious backyard.

All three of you had landed in your home in Boston, coming back from visiting your parents, late last night. And with the moving around she had to do a long with the flight. she didn’t get a chance to see the snowfall in the middle of the night.

“I know” you told her, matching her energy. “You wanna play in it later?” You asked, bringing your hand down to pull her away from the glass.

She jumped up and down nodding her head in reply.

“Let’s eat first then we can later”

––––––

Now you were all in the kitchen/dining (since they shared the same space). After Harry took out Milo, the family’s Australian shepherd, from his cage to the front yard. Now he was chasing? Or Ava was chasing him?. The loud dog pants, the sound of feet/paws against the wood, Ava’s giggles, the music Harry decided to play, and your whines, were all mixed. Because Harry would. not. Let you go.

“Do you want to starve? I need to make breakfast” you lean your head back on his shoulder. Being currently enveloped by both his arms, closing you between his chest and the counter.

“You’re popping a couple of eggos in the toaster, chill out” he snickered.

You smiled at his teasing, kissing his cheek before turning your way back to the eggs you were mixing first. He stayed behind you placing kiss after kiss to your shoulder, then your neck, then to the cut of your jaw.

You giggled, reeling him in a bit as you brandished your butt against him. Eyes averting to Harry's fingers which were clenching the counter a bit.

And ever so quickly you tilted your head, so your mouth was to his ear whispering...

“Go fill Milo’s bowl” you tell him, turning your head to kiss one of his shoulders. Before they deflated and Harry sported a dejected look on his face.

“I’ll remember this the next time the roles reverse hm?” he tells you, pinching your butt and then strolling away to the pantry.

And it was peaceful for a little until frill cries interrupted it; and Harry’s voice cooing Ava was what you heard.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him, leaving the eggs and turning off the warming pan.

“Sad because Milo’s not playing anymore” he chuckles, rubbing his hand.

“You ready for your pancakes?” You ask her.

At that the instant crocodile tears ended, as expected, while she nodded her head yes. You and Harry shared a laugh before he brought to the table, sitting in her booster seat. While you popped some eggos in the toaster.

“Har! Are you eating pancakes too?” You yell out to him.

“No thank you, ‘m gonna eat the eggs” he replied to you, leaving Ava with her coloring sheet.

–––––

You were all roughly done. Milo finished his breakfast a while ago, now he laid next to Ava’s chair looking with hope at everyone eating.

And when her parents were no longer paying attention to her, instead to each other. Ava used her nimble fingers to break a piece of her bacon. Bringing it to her mouth before “accidentally” dropping it on the floor. Smiling down at her best friend who ate it with pleasure.

‘Poor mimi’ she thought

Taking a bit of her pancakes between her fingers, she tried it one more time. Instead a different method; as she hid the piece of her syrup-less pancake in her closed fist. Yawning slyly, bringing her arms above her hands after she looked down at the puppy eyes Milo gave her. And bringing them to lay against her side; dropping the pancake onto the mixed fur beneath her.

“Ey!” Harry voiced, catching her in the act.

You turned around confused, watching as she jumped in her seat, looking up at her father in a stunned manner.

“What were you doing Ava?” You asked.

She looked at both her parents, pushing her bottom lip out.

“Milo is hungry!” She defended

“Are we supposed to be feeding Milo anything that isn’t dog food?” He tests her.

“No” she murmurs. Eyebrows wrinkled together and lips pouted causing her cheeks to fill out more than usual. Her small face was in perfect view to get a glance of her expression. Then in a haste she tucked her chin into her body, so all you both saw was the top of her bed head.

The couple wasn’t against giving Milo “human food”, he’d get some from time to time, not too much. But with a child it was a bit different. Ava didn’t know what a dog could and couldn’t eat, so the two of them had to be stricter when it came to her giving Milo food. They’d also been training Milo to not accept food Ava get him, but the two of them were like peas in a pod.

You and Harry looked at each other. You raised your eyebrows to him, wondering how the pair of you should go about this. He shrugs backs at you, a smile etched on his face as he eyes his child again.

She sat still in her chair, keeping the heartbroken visage on her face. Ava decided to add a dash of spice into her act by crossing her arms over her chest . Without context you would think you told her she would never be able to watch Disney movies ever again!

You decided to take the reigns.

“Babe do you want Milo to have to go to the doctor?” You asked her.

“No.” She responded short.

“Talk appropriately, Ava” Harry told her.

“No, mommy” she repeated herself, looking up this time, her arms uncrossed and instead sat in her lap.

“If you keep giving her human food he’ll get sick, then he’ll have to go to the doctor...then you could be arrested” you pout at her pinching her cheeks.

“Y/N!” Harry hissed, his foot breezing past your shin.

“What? It worked on me”

“Okay Okay, you won’t go to jail, mommy’s fibbing. I’m

Sorry”

“You’re fibbing?” She murmurs, using her palm to clear her bangs from her forehead. Looking at Harry for confirmation as you both nod.

“But you can’t feed Milo human food, it’s not good for him” you remind her.

“Okay. I won’t feed Milo anymore. Promise!” she answers in a hushed tone, reaching her hands up so you could pull her into your lap.

You did so kissing the top of her head

“Mumma?” Tilting her head back.

“Yea?”

“You eat the pancakes, I don’t want them,” she remarked, tossing her head side-to-side and patting her plump stomach. Sticking her tongue out in an icky manner, meaning she was full.

You and Harry shared a quick laugh at her chaotic antics.

“Ready to go out and play?” Which resulted in a large hoot led by Harry.

–––––––

Everyone showered by two, the sun brighter than when you woke up, and the snow falling down softer, in a flurry.

Before you all left the London home, you had ordered the three of you matching garments and gloves for the pictures you knew you and Harry would take.

Currently, you and Harry were clad in thick turquoise jackets. Only struggling with the task of getting Ava dressed up.

She was like a wiggling worm, wouldn’t stay still, even when you and Harry offered her some candy. Her infectious belly laughs only grew as she thought this was some kind of funny game. But it wasn't and you made that clear when you told her she wouldn't be playing in the snow until she dressed up. Did she sit down like a good girl.

“Oh! Look at my baby!” you thrilled, holding her cheeks between your palms. Pulling her in for an eskimo kiss. Those have been her favorite for the longest. Ever since she got herself hooked on Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood. “You look so cute, beautiful” you tell her.

She smiles at the compliments, such a narcissist she was. Always asking you if she looked pretty in this or that at least once a day. Along with checking herself out in the mirror for an extended amount of time. Such a narcissist. Yet, you also loved the way she tilted her chin down, head lolled to the side bashfully.

Harry, like lightning, put her beanie over her braided pigtails while you put on her black snow boots. He picked her up once she finished dressing up,setting her on his blowing a raspberry on her chubby cheeks.

“Aren’t you guys the cutest” you hummed, pulling your phone out to take a picture. You chuckled when you watched the way her giggles disappeared at the sight of your phone. Instead a beaming smile, pressing her cheek to her father’s scruffy one. Snapping a few live photos of the two.

“I wanna see” her palm out towards you for the phone.

You shuffled yourself beside her, tilting the phone so they both could see the photos.

“Look so beautiful. Hm?” Harry marveled, placing a gentle kiss to her cheek.

She grinned at his acclaim, “Yes” she dragged out the s. Nodding her head in a gentle manner before placing a kiss on his cheek.

“You look so good too, H” you tell him. Your hand rubbing the cheek that wasn’t occupied by Ava.

He, without a doubt, did. He decided to stop shaving the last two weeks and gosh did he look good. The turquoise color brought out the green of his eyes. Instead of letting his hair down, he decided he’d clip it back with one of your clips.

He kissed you on the lips then on your cheek in result, Also exchanging a string of compliments your way, by whispering some not safe for kid ears into yours.. Your stomach did a bit of a flip at his husky voice, before you slapped his chest in a truce like manner.

“Milo! Let’s go outside!” Harry shouted out, clutching your hand as he led the three of you downstairs.

–––––

The four of you were outside in the white blanket. Milo was doing his zoomies, astounded with this new found discovery. Before his non-stop running. The first thing Milo did, when he came in contact with the snow, was freeze (ears up in curiosity), then he stuck his nose into the snow, ate some snow. Now he was running in circles.

Ava loved this, perched up on Harry’s shoulder as she giggled, her nimble finger following Milo’s body.

You had Harry’s phone pointed at the two of them, videoing the whole family.

And Harry was feeling gratified. His baby was on his shoulder happy as a lark. His other baby had a radiating smile on her beautiful face while recording these moments. as always. And his pup was having the time of his life

“Baby!” you lose it when Harry also looks away from Milo to face you in no time. “Ava...Can you catch a snowflake like this?”

Harry blows a huff. He hates when you do that (half the time on purpose). Watching you tilt your head back, eyes closed, and your tongue out as you catch snow in your mouth.

Ava catches on, her eyes go a bit crossed when she tries to see the snow landing on her tongue.

“Here, baby, hold her for a bit” he tells you, bringing her down into your open arms (so she’s now on your hip). He leans down a bit to gather a bit of snow in his hands to make a snowball. Then once he’s done, he has a mischievous smile when he targets it to your chest.

It startles you, “Harry!”

And you halt, again, when the kid on your hip starts to wail. Her head thrown back and her eyes closed, sealed tight.

"Aww. Don't cry baby. Look at what you did Harry" you reprimand him in a jest. His eyebrows raise in surprise, not expecting for this to end in her tears. "Daddy's mean right? Watch this" you shush her, watching her until she opens her eyes, only in small hiccups.

You crouch down carefully pulling some snow into your fist.

“Watch baby, gotta get revenge” you tell her smiling. Raising yourself up to then fling the snow into Harry’s chest. Ever the dramatic man. He clutched his heart over his jacket before falling back into the sea of snow groaning out. Opening one eye, when he hears the laugh of his precious girl.

“Here” you tell Ava, giving her own ball of snow. She eyes it for a little before she tries to shove the snow into her mouth like crazy. Very likely you shouldn’t have shown her how to catch the snowflakes beforehand. You roll your eyes at Harry when you hear his chuckles at the exchange.

When you tell her no and to throw it you watch her laugh as she flings it on top of her father. Who then groans again and lays with his tongue out and body spread out like the chalk outlines. You set her down to the ground and she zips to the “dead” body. She pokes his eye like earlier today because it always works, but when it doesn’t she relents to other forces.

“Mimi!” she calls the shepheard over, pointing down at Harry. Who is slowly breaking his facade (but she doesn’t notice). Milo bounded forward to his owner with zeal. Sniffing around Harry for a bit before licking his face, inducing Harry to shout. Jump scaring the three of you, especially poor Milo who dashed away and Ava who fell on her butt.

Ava didn’t appreciate it. Taking snow between her mittens and crushing it into H’s chest causing a laugh out of all you.

–––––

The sun was about to set and Harry and Ava were rolling up the last ball for the snowman’s head. You were smoothing the parts that were a bit rough. Milo was back in the house. Too tired from all the running he was doing, but you were able to get some family shots with him too.

“Be careful, babe” Ava tells Harry (unnecessarily loud), when his foot gets caught in an icy patch.

“Thank you babe” he tells her, leaning down to kiss her chin. “Wonder where she gets that from. Hm?” he teases you, winking at you and puckering his lips to blow you a kiss. As you smile shyly looking away from him.

They were on either side of you. Ava nestled into your side, her arms around one of yours. All while Harry begins to lift the final snowball onto the other two.

“There you go baby. Olaf!” he tells her one she’s finished.

She isn’t excited and looks at the figure confused for a minute. You look up at Harry, eye brows pinched, he looks at you the same way, his hands on his hip when he shrugs at you.

A little gasp makes you both turn your head to see her eyes light up and finger pointed upward, like in the movies.

“Forget his buttons, eyes, and nose” she tells you, trying to point at where each thing went.

“You’re so right, smart girl, let me go get them, find some sticks too.”

You shuffle through the backdoor. Gaining ompant when Milo decides to come out of the living room. Rubbing his head on the way there. Going into the fridge you get the shortest carrot in the bag before moving into the fireplace for some coal.

When you walk back out, Ava is sitting on Harry's shoulders again. Her arms wrapped around his forehead with an iron grip. You hand her the carrot.

“Thank you mommy” she cheered, the tip of her cheeks getting firmer with her grin.

You pinch her cheeks a little bit, in response. Turning around to place the coals in a shape of a smile, using the last five as his buttons and eyes. While doing this you notice the skinny branches as his arms.

“Okay Miss Styles time for you to do the honor. Go ahead and give him his nose”

Harry squats down until Ava's leveled with the snowman's head. She decides, among herself, to twirl the carrot around so the pointed part of the carrot gets buried in the snow. You truly don't have the heart to correct her when you see how proud of herself she is.

Once she finishes, Harry picks her up and off his shoulder so she's settled on his hip instead. He jostles her around, shouting an array of "Yay! Ava!" The three of you clapping your hands together to celebrate. All while Ava revels in the abundance of praise, yet she huddles her into the comforts of her dad's shoulder.

Her first snow day had gone way better than either of you would have imagined. You personally assumed that she would have hated it. Especially since it was a very cold substance. Or she would have cried the whole time, wanting to go back in instantly.

If anything, it was more perfect than anything. You loved your little family and there was quite possibly nothing that could replace the rush of emotions you felt when you were with them. Making these treasured moments. You think this all while Harry pulls you in for a kiss.

read a little continuation of this family here!

–––

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #dad!harry styles #dad! harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles drabble #harry styles one shot #harry styles x fem!reader #dad harry styles x reader #harry styles reader insert #harry styles x you #husband!harry #dad!harry

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spidernerdsblog · 3 years

Text

Match made in Hell : Chapter Thirteen

A/N : And this is it the last and final chapter. Kinda sad but mostly happy to finally finish this series. Hope you like this chapter. Let me know what you think.

Pairing : Mob! Tom Holland x Reader

Summary : you always wanted a simple life but to be born as the daughter of a dangerous mobster turned out to be a curse for you. Everything changes when your father gets your lover killed and forcefully marries you off to another mobster as a part of a deal. You hate your father and your husband the only thing you seek is now revenge. Will you ever be able to fall in love again or this burning hatred inside you will consume you?

Warnings : mature content, kidnapping, blood, violence, murder, death, language

SERIES MASTERLIST

“What? How?” you looked at him with a worrisome face.

“We don’t know yet but we are gonna catch him don’t worry” his hands come up to your shoulders in assurance.

“Then we must go now he might be planning something dangerous to take revenge on us” saying so you were about to rush back to your room to get dressed but Tom caught hold of your hand.

“Y/N stop, you can’t go”

“Why? You only said we need to catch him” you look at him questioningly.

“By we I meant me and the boys. You are not going anywhere, not in this condition” he speaks softly placing a hand gently over your stomach “you remember what Dr. Martin said, right? No stress and as much rest as possible”

“But-but you don’t understand Tom I can help and I was pregnant the last time we caught him” you argue as Tom reaches his hand out to cup your face with an understanding smile.

“I know love but we weren’t aware of it at that time and I'm thankful that he didn’t do anything bad but not anymore" he caressed your cheek with his thumb "I’m not letting either of you come in harm's way” you were about to say something but he cut you off “please Y/N for this time just let me handle this. I know you’re strong and the most fearless woman I have ever met in my life but for this time for their sake at least stay back”

You finally gave up hanging your head low with a sigh. He was right with your current situation; it wasn't a wise idea. The risk would be too much and you can’t afford it, not when it’s about the safety of the little ones growing inside you.

“Okay but promise me you’ll be careful and in no circumstance you will risk your life” you place your hand over his on your stomach “we will be waiting for you”

“I promise I’ll be safe” he presses a soft kiss on your forehead “you just take care of yourself. I have told the guards everything and Leslie will also be there” he gives a one last peck on your lips before parting “I’ll be back in no time I promise” he reassures smiling as you nod mirroring his smile.

****

Tom along with with his brothers and Harrison were at their office in Westminster discussing their next move to get hold of Ethan before he makes a move against them.

“Any news?” Tom asks Harrison.

“Nothing,” he answers with disappointment.

“We searched downtown but found no trace of him,” Harry informs, exchanging glances with Sam.

“How is this even possible? A man escaped but is nowhere to be found?!” Tom groans in frustration when they are interrupted by William whom Vanessa brought along with her in case he might be able to help track down Ethan with his years of experience with your father's mob.

“Only if the man has never left the place” he elucidates.

“What?” Tom’s brows knit in a frown.

“Has anyone seen him getting out of the house?” William throws the question to his men as they stood there silently with their gazes lowered down at the floor.

“Answer the question you morons!” Tom barks at them.

“No sir” one of them squeaks out in response as the frown on Tom’s face grows deeper.

“Well then you have your answer Ethan is still in your house hiding maybe seeking for the right opportunity” William remarks.

“Right opportunity for what?” Vanessa questions.

“Y/N..” Tom’s voice comes out shaky as panic washes over his face at the realization “Y/N is all alone in the house. We need to go now!”

****

You were in your room trying to keep yourself occupied by reading some books on parenting and childbirth to calm your nerves which honestly wasn’t helping much cause you knew how dangerous it is with Ethan escaping and the vipers seeking revenge. Since no one would be informing you about anything you thought it’s best, you take a nap as stressing about it will be useless and in turn be bad for the two little beans inside you.

You were about to lie down when you heard shuffling noises outside of your room. Your hand instantly reached out to your bedside table, opening the drawer you took out your gun and got off the bed. You carefully tip-toed out of your room, eyes scanning the corridors when you felt someone’s presence behind you. You cocked your gun ready to turn and shoot.

“I wouldn’t dare to do that” you heard, feeling the muzzle of a gun pressed to the back of your head.

“Ethan?” you frowned deeply.

“Miss me baby?” his voice dark and full of malice. You went to shove him in the stomach with your elbow but he was quick to catch hold of your hand and twist it back as the gun fell from your grasp on the floor.

“You’re getting clumsy sweetheart” he chuckles tauntingly.

“What do you want?!” you hissed struggling to set free.

“You’ll get to know soon but for now start walking”

“What makes you think I’ll listen to whatever you say?” you grit under your teeth.

“Well honey news is in the air that you're pretty knocked up right now" he snickers and your throat went dry, he knows "so if you don't do what I say I wouldn’t hesitate for a moment to pull the trigger”

Usually you were tough and it takes a lot to shake you but now it is different. You couldn’t think of fighting back as fear grasped on to your mind and body. You weren’t alone, you had two lives growing inside you and in no way you were going to put their lives in danger so you remained quiet and decided to do exactly what you were told. You slowly walked down the stairs with Ethan behind you holding you by your arm with one hand the other had his gun pointed at the back of your head when Leslie walked out of the kitchen.

“Ma’am!” she gasped in horror and immediately pressed the alarm on the nearby wall to alert the guards outside as she rushed towards you in an attempt to save you.

“Get back or she dies” Ethan threatens, pressing the gun further to your head.

“It’s ok Les just stay where you are” you say calmly. Two of Tom’s men posted at the gate barged in pointing their guns.

“Put down your gun now or you’ll regret it” they threaten, cocking their guns which made Ethan chuckle darkly.

“You really thought I would be so stupid to do this all alone” he snickers when three men dressed in all black rounded them from behind. They pulled out their guns and within seconds several gunshots were fired piercing through their bodies as both of the guards dropped dead.

“Leslie run!” you shout at her.

“But…” she hesitates.

“Just go or they will kill you!” you tell her as she unwillingly ran to the back of the mansion to get out of the place.

“Yes, run to your boss and tell him that I got his most prized possession and soon I’ll have this whole city within my palms too” he grins wickedly. He then drags you out of the front door to the driveway where two SUV’s were parked.

“C'mon get inside the car” he nudged you as you reluctantly got in the passenger seat while he sat on the driver's seat and starts the car.

“Ethan you don’t wanna do this” you tried to talk some sense into him.

“Oh hell I wanna do it. Today I take back what is rightfully mine. Now shut the fuck up!” he yelled at you while driving and you flinched feeling utterly helpless.

“Tom is on his way he is gonna kill you and if my dad comes to know” you glared at him.

“I don’t care what that bastard wants, he has been using me to take hold of the drug cartel but I was the one who was using him to set up my own gang to take my sweet revenge. Your daddy thinks he owns the vipers, no honey, it's me who gives them the orders” he laughs when his eyes go to the phone in your hands “give me your phone” he orders.

“Why?” you tried to hide it away from him

“Just give it to me dammit!” he snatched it out of your hand and threw it out of the window on the side of the road “now no one will know where you are” he chuckles darkly speeding away through the traffic.

****

“Y/N! Y/N! Where are you?!” Tom stormed inside the house to be met with the two dead bodies of his men in a pool of blood.

“Oh God!” V gasped in horror and the boys were left dumbfounded at the scene in front of them..

“Y/N! Where are you?!” Tom called out again desperately.

“Sir!” a very terrified Leslie came running from the back of the house.

“Leslie, where is Y/N? Answer me!” he demanded.

“They took her sir” she broke down into tears as Tom felt the ground slipping from under his feet.

“Uggh this is all my fault!” he knocks off the glass sculpture kept on the nearby table out of rage.

“Tom, calm down, get yourself together!” Harrison stops him from breaking any other things further.

“How can I stay calm Harrison?! That bastard took her and I wasn’t even there to save her. Now I don’t know where she is or even if she is alive or not” he laments.

“You need to think clearly, Tom. He won’t do anything to her I’m sure not until he gets what he wants” William remarks and just then Tom’s phone rang with an unknown caller id

“Take it I’m sure it’s him” William advised he pressed the call button as Ethan’s face became visible on the scream.

“Hey Tom, what’s up man?” he says with a smug grin.

“You scum, where is Y/N?! If you lay a finger on her you’re gonna die a very brutal death!” Tom barked.

“Oh don’t worry, she's alright. For now. Say hi to your husband honey” he mocks flipping the camera towards you. Tom’s heart clenched seeing you tied up to a chair. You looked completely exhausted as you somehow lifted your face up to face the camera.

“Y/N…” he croaks a lump growing inside his throat as he fights back his tears after seeing you being treated like this when you should in the comfort of your home.

“Tom-Tom, don’t agree to what he says it’s a tra-” you tried to warn him but were quickly cut off.

“Okay that’s enough sweetheart”

“Give me my Y/N back!” Tom growled in rage.

“Woah not so fast not until you give me what I want” he remarks with a smug grin.

“What the hell do you want?!”

“Nothing much, just hand over your mob and accept my allegiance only then you'll get your wife back. I’m giving you 12 hours to think Tom after that I’ll empty this gun into her head” he threatens and the call disconnects.

“Hey wait!” Tom yells at the dark screen.

“Let’s go! We don’t have much time” Tom was about to rush out when Harry stopped him

“Wait Tom, are you seriously going to hand over everything?”

“I'm ready to give up everything for Y/N. I don't give a fuck about the mob because that’s the reason behind Y/N, my wife, the mother of children is being held captive in the first place!” he snaps.

“Don’t do anything in a rush you don’t want to strengthen your enemy’s power do you?” William remarks..

“Yes Tom, I agree with William too. You do remember what the Coopers did back then before your dad had to kill them himself?” Harrison reminded him.

“Yes I do but what option do we have?” Tom sighed unable to find a way out

“You have an option” V speaks up

“What?”

“Ask papa for help” she suggests

“Are you out of your mind?! You’re telling me to ask another enemy of ours for help for whom Y/N was almost going to die!” Tom says disapproving her idea.

“Just listen to me for once all this rivalry between you and our dad is just because of the business. If he comes to know that Y/N is in danger he would certainly help cause he loves his family more than anything” she explains.

“Vanessa is right Tom only Victor can help you. The vipers were his gang after all he will know everything and you also need more men to overpower Ethan” William agrees.

“What do you guys say?” Tom looks at his brothers and Harrison.

“You should call him” they all suggest unanimously. After a little pondering Tom took a deep breath and dialed his number.

“You really have the balls to call us after what you did Holland” Julian quipped.

“Julian you gotta listen to me mate this is important. Ethan escaped”

“Well it's not our problem that he escaped”

“He has your sister Julian” Tom informs.

“And why would I help you to save her who is the reason we are about to lose the whole drug cartel”

“It wasn’t your sister Julian it was Ethan all along he had been double crossing you and using the vipers to grab hold of the drug cartel behind you back”

“So what? We just don’t care now end the call”

“Jules, wait your sister is pregnant” Tom reveals as Julian perks up at the news.

“What? What the hell are you talking about?” Julian asks with concern in his voice.

“She is expecting. I know you have had issues but I also know you care for her and so does Mr. Martinez. I know he is listening to this too. It's your daughter sir and if you really want her to stop hating you then help us take down Ethan” Tom’s voice breaks as he pleads with them.

“Dad?” Julian turned to Victor.

“I'm gonna kill that bastard myself!” Victor mutters standing up from his chair enraged “everyone to get ready and tell them to meet at the Docklands”

****

After searching for almost three hours your father was able to locate you. You were being held in an old factory near Kennington. They drove to that place as fast as they could and stopped a mile ahead to not alert his goons. Carefully they walked over to the place and took down the guards posted outside surrounding the place. Tom along with Harrison and your father and brother entered the building killing anyone who came in their way. The deserted factory echoed with the loud noise of gunshots and you knew that Tom was here to rescue you.

“You hear that? Tom is here, you’re going to die Ethan” you quipped a knowing smile etched on your face.

“Not so easily” he goes to untie the ropes and pulls you up on your feet pressing his gun against the side of your head.

“Y/N!” Tom barged in.

“Come closer and she dies,” Ethan threatens.

“You might want to reconsider mate” Tom says with a sly smirk

“Why is that?”

“Your sister Meredith, is her name right? And she lives in an apartment near Brixton” he muses “guess what? my brothers happen to be there too” fear washed over Ethan’s face as he realized how the tables have turned and all thanks to your father who knew about his sister and told Tom about her.

“No, keep my sister out of this” he says weakly.

“You left me no choice mate” Tom tsks “it’s over Ethan so let Y/N go and no one gets hurt” he warns him as Ethan removes the gun from your head and lets go of you. You take one quick glance at him and then look at Tom standing in front of you. You immediately strided your way towards him with tears in your eyes but Ethan had something else in his mind. He lifted his gun again and pulled the trigger aiming at your back.

“Y/N!!” Tom shrieked but before the bullet could hit you Victor was on time to pull you in his tight embrace guarding you as the bullet hit him on his right shoulder. He flinched in pain as you grasped on to his shirt trembling.

“Daddy?” you said weakly glancing up to him with tear filled eyes.

“It’s ok mija I’m here now. Don’t worry everything is going to be alright” he caresses the back of your head gently as you feel your head spin. The stress was too much for you to handle and you fainted in his arms.

“Go get that motherfucker!” Tom shouted seeing Ethan trying to flee. His men were quick to grab him as Harrison snatched the gun out of his hand and punched him right at his face.

“Jules, take her to the hospital now!” your father instructed. Jules took you from his arms and carried you to the car and immediately left for the hospital.

Tom stalked his way towards Ethan as if he was a prey. He cocked his gun, his gaze stone cold eyes burning with rage. He kicks Ethan on his legs as his knees buckled and he kneeled down on the floor in front of him.

“Tom please let me go I swear I’ll go as far away as possible and never return back” Ethan begs for his mercy.

“You should have thought about it before you decided to shoot Y/N” Tom growled, pressing the gun in between his eyes. But for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger. It didn’t feel right to him.

“Tom, what are you waiting for?” Harrison nudged him.

“I-I can’t, Y/N wouldn’t want this” Tom looked at him unsure of what to do “it’s better we hand him over to the police” he suggests.

“If you can’t I will” Victor interrupts and aggressively points his gun at Ethan.

“No Victor, wait!” Tom tried to stop him but it was too late he had already pulled the trigger and Ethan’s lifeless body collapsed on the ground.

“It’s ok Tom nobody gets away after messing with my family” he shrugs when the blaring of the sirens could be heard from a distance.

“Get out of here right now!” Victor says to Tom.

“But..” Tom hesitates.

“Leave or you’ll get caught too” he insists.

“What about you?”

“I think it’s time for me to pay for my crimes” he sighs looking at the gun in his hand with a contemplating smile etched on his face. The screeching of car tires could be heard as the bellowing of the sirens grew louder which was soon followed by the clamoring footsteps of people in tactical boots.

“Now go to my daughter she needs you” Victor rushes him “and remember to keep her happy and safe or else I’ll hunt you down too” he warns him.

“Will keep that in mind” Tom smirks and walks out of the place.

“Raise your hands where I can see them!” Grace orders and without a single Victor raises his hands in surrender.

“Victor Martinez you are under arrest for embezzlement and several other crimes including hoarding and smuggling of illegal drugs and murders” Grace states pointing her gun at him along with a team of officers behind her. A male officer was quick to handcuff him. Tom watched it whole from a distance as he was led inside the police van before leaving for the hospital.

You woke up to the rhythmic beeping of the EKG. Your eyes slowly adjust to the lighting of the hospital room.

“Tom..Tom” you mumbled half awake.

“Hey, hey I’m right here” Tom quickly gets up from the couch and holds your hands as you sit up.

“Tom what happened?” you ask warily.

“You fainted honey, your blood pressure went low due to all the stress” he informs.

“What about our babies?” your hand goes to your stomach as you look at him with panic stricken eyes “are they ok? Tom, are they safe?” you rambled out of fear.

“Yes darling, they are safe and healthy the doctor’s confirmed” he assures you gently brushing your hair with his hands.

“Oh thank god” you heaved a sigh of relief.

“I think we should thank your dad too cause if he wasn’t there in time you would have got shot” he remarks.

“I know,” you say, staring at your lap.

“Y/N the interpol and police took your father”

“Well that was going to happen some or the other day anyways” you half shrugged.

“But he saved you, saved us”

“I know and that’s the irony for the first time my dad genuinely showed that cared about me and now I will never see him again” you say with regret in your voice.

4 months later….

You were seated in the huge courtroom of the New York State Supreme Court with Tom, Vanessa and your mother by your side as you awaited the jury’s verdict on the charges you, your father and brother have been indicted with. After your father’s arrest the underworld imploded and most of the leaders went into hiding to save their businesses and escape the law. It was a huge issue in the international media too, the trial went on for three months. You had to travel back and forth to appear before the court for the murders you were charged with.

Though they could never find any proof against you, your dad and your husband made sure of that. Tom had told you that he had requested the families not to testify against you and they had agreed. But you know his way of requesting people very well : it's pointing a gun at their head. If they don’t agree then they are permanently relieved of their life.

When you said that to him he laughed it off by saying “that’s preposterous! I would never do that” and you gave him ‘not buying it’ look “okay the old me would but I’m a changed man now and as I promised no violence” he clarified. But you knew better and you didn’t mind this time really cause you didn’t want to abandon this beautiful life you finally got and go to jail.

Moreover in less than two months there will be two new additions to your little family and you don’t want to miss any of it. You knew that you could never get rid of the blood in your hands and so did Tom but this time you are gonna start afresh for those pure little souls that are coming to light up your entire world and remove the darkness that had been clouding your lives.

“The jury have reached a verdict” the judge’s voice echoed through the silent courtroom and Tom places his hand over yours comfortingly giving you a reassuring smile telling you that everything will be ok “and they unanimously find Victor Martinez guilty of the following charges related to extortion, money laundering, murders and illegal smuggling of drugs. He is being sentenced to lifetime imprisonment” the judge declared.

“Also due to lack of evidence the jury declares Julian Martinez and Y/N Holland innocent and free of all charges” he adds and Tom squeezes your hand gently with a soft smile and a relief in his eyes as you look at him mirroring his smile.

“The court is adjourned for the day” the judge announced and everybody stood up from their seats to walk out of the room one by one. You watched your dad getting handcuffed and being taken away by the officials as your brother followed them to finish the rest of the formalities that needed to be done before they took your father to the prison. For once you wanted to hug him tight and let him know that you loved him even after whatever went down between you. You wanted to let him know that you have forgiven him, you felt bad for your mother too after all he is her husband.

“Don’t worry honey I’ll be fine” she touches your shoulder breaking you out of your thoughts.

“I’m really sorry mom you don’t deserve this” you sniffled

“It’s ok, Y/N I knew this day was coming soon and how much ever you feel bad a crime is a crime”

“Mom, you can come live with us. I can talk to Tom, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind” you offered.

“No sweetie that’s not happening I’m better off here and Jules will be there I will be perfectly ok. You just take care of yourselves”

“Hello Mrs Martinez” Tom interrupts.

“Hello Tom”

“Honey it’s quite some time you ate anything let’s get you something shall we?” he suggested to you.

“Yeah I’m feeling a little hungry to be honest” you remarked.

“I know love, let’s go then there’s a nice café right around the corner of the street” he says as Julian joins you three too.

“All formalities are complete, it’s time for us to leave as well” he informs as you walk to him and held his hands.

“Jules please take care of my mother” you ask him with hopeful eyes.

“I will don’t worry” he pulls you in a hug and kisses your forehead “you guys take care too, alright” you nod and go to hug your mom before leaving the place with Tom.

Tom and you slowly walked out of the court and made your way to the café. Upon entering the shop you saw Vanessa already waiting for you as you went and sat down at the table while Tom went to give your orders. You were a little bit out of breath cause being seven months pregnant with twins is no big joke. You get easily tired now. Your stomach has grown round and big in the past few months which makes it difficult for you to bend down. But Tom was always there for you patiently helping you out. He even signed up for birthing and parenting classes so that you are ready for everything.

“Well finally it’s over isn’t it? You got what you wanted” V chimes.

“Yeah kind of” you sigh “is it wrong though that I feel bad for him?”

“Not at all after all he is our father we have the right to feel bad but past is past we gotta move on” you remarks “so how are the little munchkins?”

“Oh they are doing quite well and also not letting their mother sleep with their constant kicking seems like they can’t wait to come out already and so do I. I really want my precious sleep back” you joked.

“Oh sissy for the next two years forget about sleep cause you will be getting none” V snickers.

“Can’t complain though I voluntarily signed up for it” you shake your head smiling as you pull out a file from inside your bag “here” you say handing over the file to her.

“What is this?” V looks at you cluelessly.

“A deal is a deal, open it” you tell her as she opens the file and goes through the papers. Her eyes widened with shock as she finished reading the last page.

“What?! Are you serious?”

“I told you I’ll give your rightful share in the family so this is it” you stated.

“But you are giving me the rum and diamond business. That’s yours” she emphasized.

“I know but I don’t have the time or interest to run it and I can’t handle the business in New York while staying in London. Moreover, Tom has decided to start a chain of luxury resorts and since I have a management degree I’ll be helping him to expand it” you explain “so I’m entrusting you with our family businesses. Welcome to the family V” you look at her with a proud smile.

“I’ll not disappoint you” she promises.

“I know you won’t”

..................................................................................

If you want to send blurb requests based on the series I'm more than eager to write so send me your ideas. Also suggest me some cute baby names both girl and boy. I was thinking of going with Beatrice or April and Cole or Ben but would like to hear your opinions as well ❤️

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland imagines #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #mob! tom #mob! tom holland #tom holland fluff

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georgiapeach30513 · 2 years

Text

Plenty of Practice

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Summary: Aster and Story finally talk

Pairings: Aster X Story

Rating: sadness

Warnings: mentions of Iris’s infertility, mentions of drug and alcohol abuse, vague mentions of Dayton’s and Andy’s abuse, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1.5K

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Aster Drysdale Masterlist

Story Drysdale Masterlist

Aster walks outside to see Story sitting on a blanket and cooing down at Otto, almost starting to walk back inside. “Az, come sit with us,” with a deep breath she walks to sit on the bench, staring down at her sister that she was convinced got everything she ever wanted. Story scrunches up her face, and boops the little baby’s nose. He wiggles his feet around and giggles staring up at his mother.

“What are you wanting Story book?” Aster pats at her stomach. She currently still isn’t showing, and she’s wondering just how far she can hold off. Not everybody gets to have Carter Baizen step up to be their child’s father.

“I wanted to apologize.”

“Apology accepted. Can I go?”

Story turns to look at her sister with that award winning smile. “No, I want you to listen. I didn’t realize how long you and I had hated each other.”

“You were just the baby sister that I didn’t want. But I didn’t want Blade or Lucy either.”

“Az, please. I’m sorry. I want us to be friends, or at the very least be cordial. We live in this house together,” Aster looks down at the little baby, almost with tears in her eyes. “What?”

“You won’t be here long. I’m surprised you haven’t moved into Carter’s apartment.”

“I don’t want to be in the city. There’s too many people, and neither one of us want Otto to grow up where he can’t run freely outside. Is that what’s bothering you? Because I’m with Carter?” Aster quickly shakes her head no. “I’m not really with him. We sleep in the same bed. He’s the father to Otto, but we’re taking things extremely slow. We kiss. The last time we tried...I’m not ready for that, but I don’t want anyone else but him.”

“Didn’t you just win the lottery with boyfriends then?”

“Az, I’m sorry about what I said about Mickey. I’m sorry that I’ve always been able to get what I want by getting whiney. I’m sorry that I took time away from you and daddy. I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was doing those things. I had someone call me out on my part in my life, and I sucked. I was a baby who felt like I deserved the world, because I was the Princess of Boston. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry that I blamed you for my own jealousy. I know you didn’t ask to be sickly. I didn’t realize that while you were doing breathing treatments I was able to do whatever I wanted. I didn’t realize the struggles that you went through, just like you didn’t see mine. I tried to be perfect, and you just always were,” Story sighs and looks down at Otto. “You were. People always immediately fell in love with you.”

“That’s not being perfect, that’s being charming. You have this hardness about you, that I love. You’re not afraid to tell people what needs to be done, me I’m a follower. You have goals, and you’ve met them. Daddy talks all the time about how proud he is of you, even Walt. Walt just thinks I’m vapid, and just like our father. But you’re the one that’s just like daddy. Smart, driven, doesn’t take crap from anyone, passionate, you like sex and don’t care what people think of that. You’re sure of yourself, assertive, you don’t have to be girly, but you’re so sexy.”

“Well some of us weren’t gifted with great boobs. I just got the great legs,” Story and Aster both laugh, finally coming to realize they both misunderstood their sister.

“Does Iris know?”

“Know what?”

“About the baby?” Aster turns and looks away leaning back, and trying to think of a way to change the subject. “I know you like to party, but my partying was much different. You preferred alcohol, I preferred cocaine. But you stopped drinking. Even when you didn’t party you had a glass of wine a day. Does Iris know you’re pregnant?” she shakes her head no, starting to cry. “Is it Mickey’s?”

“Pretty sure, yeah. He’s the only idiot I was having unprotected sex with. God, I’m so stupid. I thought to myself about how stupid you were, and then I found out about yours and Dayton’s relationship, and I’m the stupid one. Mickey wasn’t forcing me, he didn’t make me get off birth control, I just forgot an appointment.”

“Come here,” Aster sits on the blanket with Story, and she wraps her arms around her big sister. “You’re not stupid, you were careless, but you obviously wanted this baby.”

“I couldn’t get pregnant with Scott, and I thought I was the failure. And here she is, and I want her so bad.”

“She?” Story gives her the biggest smile through her tears, placing her hand on her belly. “There she is. Azzie, you’re having a girl?”

“Yeah, she’s already so perfect, and I've never wanted anything more. Like, already see myself holding this little fluffy baby. No pink though,” Story’s face falls, “Unless it’s the lightest of pinks that almost looks white. I haven’t even told Mickey, haven’t even spoke to him at all, and I don’t even care. But then, I’m being selfish, because he gave her to me. Because of him I have my little Eliana.”

“Aster Sapphire, I can’t with you. Eliana? Oh, I love her already. Why haven’t you told everybody else?”

“I don’t know, shame, I guess. I’m supposed to be the head strong daughter. The one in control, the one with a plan. When has my plan ever panned out?”

Story tilts her head looking at Aster, her hand still over the barely there bump. “First off, you’re gonna start eating more, and quit hiding this precious baby. Secondly, if you’re not doing any prenatal care, I’ll kick you butt. Thirdly, when has any of our plans panned out, not even mom or dad’s. Do you think any of us wanted our journey to be the way it was. Look at our parents. Iris wants another baby, and can’t. Blade has never recovered from his one and only girlfriend, so he uses women for sex. I didn’t want a child by another man. I wanted Carter to be all my babies’ dad. Lucy, do you think she wanted to be born so young and be closer to the age of her niece than her own sister? Life isn’t always beautiful; there’s heartbreak, there’s trials, there’s some of the most immense pain that we can ever have, but there’s beauty in that journey.”

“You sound like Dr. Banner and Joshua,” Aster stifles out a laugh.

“You would know all about how Joshua talks,” Story gives her a small elbow. “What I mean, is our plans are always going to be derailed. But you want this baby. You want Miss Eliana. My god, she’s gonna be perfect. Imagine the two sisters that got along the least amount, have kids that are going to grow up as best friends. What’s her middle name?”

“Rune, it means secret. But she’s going to be my beautiful secret.”

“I’m sure our mom knows. She knew about Iris and me, both times.”

Aster looks down at the little baby boy that gives a whimper, and Story hoists him up to start nursing. Her eyes looking at him so fondly. Story’s fingers petting over her beautiful boy’s face. “You regret it? The first time, I mean.”

“Some days. I would have had a different journey. What married before I was eighteen? A child that was four. They would have been Carter’s, but I would still be that little whiney girl, that pouted to get what she wanted. Carter wouldn’t have helped that because he was always buying me gifts. I wouldn’t have Otto. It was ugly to get him, but look at him, he’s perfect. I don’t care who he comes from. He’s mine. My baby, the only thing I truly love from my time with Dayton. Aster, the love you’ll feel when that baby is born, is something you can never prepare yourself for. It makes everything that ever happened to get you to that moment worth it. Hearing that Andy was Dayton’s son, it scared me. It hurt, because of the pain he gave mom and dad, but then seeing Pops, and all he wanted was to hold his great nephew. I hope he takes after Ari and Frank. They’re so good.”

“I love Airy,” Aster laughs through her tears, and gives her little sister a kiss to her temple. Wishing that all these years that they spent hating each other, they could have saw each other from the others’ prospective. “Otto is going to be a handful and the sweetest, because that’s all we’ll allow him to be. And he’s going to be my Ellie’s bestie,” she takes a deep inhale, and looks at her beautiful sister, always envious of the way she looked, only to find out she was envious of her looks. “Will you sit with me at family dinner when I tell everyone?”

“It’d be my honor, Azzie.”

“I’m gonna have to try and change his diapers now. I’ve never done the baby thing. That was always Iris’s deal.”

“Well,” Story pats around Otto’s bum, and giggles, “It was just gas. He’s a gassy boy. I’ll make sure you get plenty of practice.”

Masterlist

#desperate lives #desperate lives au #desperate verse #dau #da au #aster drysdale #story drysdale #aster drysdale x story drysdale #otto white

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gretavansidecut · 3 years

Text

Room to Breathe

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 4,297

Summary: You're out at a crowded bar with the boys and start to have a panic attack from all the sensory overload and your crush Josh helps you through it

Warnings: swearing, alcohol use, general angst, detailed descriptions of sensory overload, anxiety, and spiraling negative thoughts. If you find any of these things to be triggering or otherwise upsetting, please proceed with extreme caution!

A/N: So I haven't written a fic in like... God, six years maybe? But this idea popped into my head the other night and just wouldn't leave so I figured what the heck, why not give this writing thing another try? I had an absolute blast writing this, and I hope you all enjoy it!

You held your head in your hands, trying your best to steady your breathing as you took refuge in the bathroom stall. The pounding, brain-rattling music of the honky-tonk was slightly more bearable in the relative quiet of the restroom, but you still found yourself grinding your teeth as the noise was beginning to get to you. Densely packed places were always a challenge; you weren't necessarily afraid of crowds, or claustrophobic, or anything like that, it was more that the combination of the overbearing noise and the feeling of being packed in like a sardine tended to make you a little... Panicky, to say the least. It didn't help that just getting into the bar in the first place nearly gave you sensory overload either. But you weren't about to bail early if you could help it, and you weren’t about to let a little creeping panic ruin a night on the town with the guys of Greta Van Fleet, especially not when Josh was the one who'd invited you to come along. Besides, you could handle a crowded, noisy bar for one night, right?

The sudden slamming of the bathroom door made you jump in your stall, the rowdy voices of drunk patrons shattering whatever peace you'd had up to that point. You let out a heavy sigh, figuring it was for the best as you'd already been in there for at least five minutes. Any longer and the guys might've started to get worried, or worse, come looking for you. You emerged from your stall, ignoring the drunk people and their slurred conversation to your left as you washed your hands, and then taking a moment to splash some water on your face. Just the thought of going back out into the noise and crowd was enough to make your chest tighten, and you couldn’t help but feel a little pissed off at the current situation. You’d been looking forward to this night out for over a week; a chance to properly spend time with the guys outside of work after doing odd jobs around their studio for the last few months, and you’d especially been looking forward to spending some time with Josh. As much as you hated to admit it, you’d developed a little bit of a crush on him over the course of working at the studio, but you figured there was no harm in dreaming as long as you kept things platonic and professional. He seemed to enjoy your company and laugh at your jokes, and you definitely enjoyed his in return.

You let out another shaky breath, taking a few more seconds to steel yourself before heading back out there. You knew this place would be packed, and you’d been ready for it, honestly you had. But today had just been one of those aggravating days, the kind where every little thing seemed to go wrong and rub you the wrong way. And when that happened, the panic would tend to creep in more easily, and with greater intensity. Still, you resolved to hold yourself together as best you could and not ruin the evening, glancing at yourself in the mirror to make sure you were presentable, before turning around and reentering the bar.

All at once, the blaring music and roar of the crowd hit you, and you couldn't even hear yourself think. There were flashing neon lights hung up on every wall, a few TVs scattered here and there playing some sports channels, and people zipping about all over the place. It felt like your whole head was ringing, your eyes and ears begging for mercy already as you made your way back to the far corner of the room where the boys’ table was. You could eventually pick out Josh's boisterous laughter through the mayhem, and the four of them came into view just in time for you to see Josh lob a pretzel about 4 feet into the air, only for Jake to expertly and effortlessly catching it in his mouth. Danny and Sam both cheered at once, each of them swiftly downing a shot of tequila as Josh shared a high five with his twin.

"Hell yeah Jakey, ten in a row, that's a new record!" He exclaimed in triumph, grabbing his glass and finishing what was left of his salty dog in one gulp. When he was done, he noticed you approaching the table and his eyes immediately lit up, though whether that was because of you or the sudden rush of alcohol you weren’t sure. Still, it was always nice to see him smile, even when you felt like you were on the verge of losing your mind.

"Heeey, Y/N's back! Now we can get this party going again!" He slung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to his side as he grinned from ear to ear. In any other situation your hopeless crush on him would make you nervous if he got this close to you, but after your perilous trek to the bathroom and back a little contact from someone besides a total stranger was more than welcome.

"Yeah, what took you so long?" Jake teased, popping another pretzel into his mouth. "We were starting to think you'd fallen into the sewers or something!"

"No, that's what you thought Jake, me 'n Sam were betting they'd run off and joined the circus!" Danny added with a grin, his words slightly slurred from the tequila at this point.

You swallowed tightly, flashing them a half-forced grin as you shook your head. “Guys, c’mon, be reasonable here, it was nothing like that... What really happened was an alligator popped up out of the toilet and we had a riveting conversation about quantum physics and string theory.”

The guys erupted into laughter; Jake covering his mouth so he didn’t accidentally spit out his pretzel, Josh cackling to your left, Sam almost choking on his beer, and Danny holding his face in his palm as he snickered drunkenly. Even in your heightened state of anxiety, you couldn't help but genuinely laugh along with them in the moment. After all, even in a stressful situation the guys were still a hoot to be around. They each had their own oddball sense of humor that made you, a fellow oddball, feel right at home with them. And the fact that Josh's arm was still wrapped around your shoulder was pretty nice too. It was almost enough to make the blaring noise and packed-in-like-sardines feeling of the bar bearable... Almost.

You were able to keep it together enough to have another round of drinks with them, finding solace in a simple vodka cranberry as the guys got drunker and more boisterous. Danny and Sam decided to have an arm wrestling contest, which Danny won quite easily given his drummer's arms, though that didn’t stop Sam from challenging him to a rematch, and still losing, five more times. Then Jake ended up slipping into his Oliver Reed impression, made all the more credible in his intoxicated state, and he began to ramble on about how wild and wonderful the filming of Tommy had been. Josh of course piped in when he could, commentating on Danny and Sam’s contest like a sports announcer and slipping into his own goofy voice as he ”interviewed” Mr. Reed. If this were happening anywhere else, literally anywhere else besides an overcrowded bar in the most overcrowded part of Nashville, you would've been having the absolute time of your life. But instead you found yourself getting more and more tense with each moment that passed by, the pounding noise and mass of shifting bodies behind you making your pulse race and your head ache. Your drink had done absolutely nothing to calm your nerves, and not even the continued feeling of Josh's arm on your shoulder seemed to help, and you were starting to resent the fact that you couldn't even enjoy that.

You finally hit your limit when you felt the sharp point of someone's elbow jab into the middle of your back, and you flinched hard away from the source of the sudden contact. You could feel Josh’s arm tighten around your shoulder slightly, and everyone's heads whipped around to see a young woman, clearly drunk and looking very apologetic.

"O-oh shit, I'm so sorry sweetie!" She slurred out, steadying herself on her feet. "Didn't mean t'hitcha! Jus' tryin' to get s'more drinks for my table!"

The guys all nodded, assuring her it was and honest mistake and she gave them all a smile and a wave as she staggered off towards the bar. You, on the other hand, couldn’t even bring yourself to look at her, your eyes locked on an empty glass on the table as the ringing in your head became unbearable, every nerve and muscle in your body suddenly taut like a bowstring. The guys kept talking, though what about you had no clue, unable to make out what they were saying as your own pulse pounded in your ears. In the back of your mind you thought you could feel Josh's thumb rubbing gently against your shoulder, almost in a soothing kind of motion, but you honestly couldn't be sure right now. Every molecule in your body was struggling to keep it together as you quickly spiraled into a frenzied panic, and the only thing you were absolutely positive was true was that you had to get out of there fast.

"Hey... You alright?" Josh's voice was suddenly clear and crisp in your ears like a bell, and it was enough to snap you out of your spiral for just a second and address the table. Though the way Jake, Sam, and Danny were looking at you expectantly made you feel like you wanted to run and hide under a rock. If there was one thing you hated more than having a breakdown in public, it was people knowing you were having a breakdown in public.

"O-oh yeah, I'm good! Sh-she just startled me is all..." Your voice trailed off, and you swallowed dryly as you fought back tears. "I... I'm just gonna s-step outside for a second and get some air, yeah?" You said with a plastered-on smile, doing your best to not let them know anything was wrong as you reluctantly wormed your way out of Josh's grip and made your way towards the nearest door. You pushed your way through the crowd, ignoring the protests as you bumped into several people along the way, struggling to focus long enough to make it to your goal. You could feel your throat tightening, hot tears stinging your eyes as shame and embarrassment crept into your panic stricken mind. ‘Seriously? You couldn't even handle one night out in a crowded bar? You just had to let your sort-of-crappy day get to you and ruin everyone's night, didn't you?’

Finally reaching the door, you stumbled out of it, desperately trying to catch your breath as you welcomed the sudden rush of fresh air. Unfortunately, in your panic, the door you ended up choosing wasn’t the one that led to the bar's outdoor area like you thought, but the front door, and you suddenly found yourself adrift in the churning tide of rowdy, drunken humanity that was the Broadway strip on a Friday night. You didn't even bother trying to hold the tears back at this point, completely overwhelmed and hyperventilating as you found the quietest spot in sight, an empty doorway on the other side of the bar's front windows, and sank to the ground. You hugged your knees tightly as you brought them up to your chest, shaking as you buried your face in your arms, the blaring noise, blinding lights, and sheer presence of the crowd causing you to shut down on the spot.

The feeling of a hand on your shoulder jolted you out of your stupor, and you scrambled away from the touch as fast as you could with a startled scream. You were fully prepared to yell at whatever stranger had just touched you, because the last thing you needed right now was some rando putting their hands on you. To your mix of shock and relief, it was Josh's face that you saw, his eyes a little wide as he held up both of his hands in a defensive manner.

"Easy Y/N, it's just me, it’s Josh!" He said as softly as he could while still being audible over the throng of the crowd. You couldn't find it in you to respond, just staring at him like a deer caught in a car’s headlights as your body started to shake uncontrollably. You suddenly realized there was, in fact, something you hated more than people knowing you were having a breakdown in public, and that was your goddamn crush knowing that you were having a breakdown in public. In the back of your panic-stricken mind you wondered, if you just stayed still long enough, whether Josh would just turn around and leave you alone. You realized just how futile that thought was when he did quite the opposite and extended a hand out to you.

"It's pretty intense out here. Let's go find a quieter spot, alright?"

The rest of your body still shaking, you nodded your head eagerly, accepting his hand as he pulled you up off the ground. Once you were standing, he let go of your hand and wrapped that same arm around your waist, pulling you in close to his side as he cocked his head in one direction.

"You're ok, just stay close to me, I'll get you out of here."

You hastily nodded again, unable to make words or maintain eye contact as you turned your gaze to the concrete below you and let Josh guide you through the sea of bodies. It felt like you were in there forever, the crowd shifting all around you, and any time you felt someone get too close, your body began to lock up and freeze. The only thing that kept you upright and moving was Josh's arm curled around your side, keeping you grounded as he led you away from the worst of the crowd. Eventually it dawned on you that the number of people around you were thinning out, the noise getting less and less intense as Josh led you up a street and then some kind of steep ramp. A cool rush of air and the sudden smell of water hit your nostrils and you glanced upwards to get your bearings just in time to realize that Josh was leading you over the river on the pedestrian bridge, towards the eastern side of the city and away from the bedlam of Broadway. You were about three quarters of the way over the bridge before he pulled you off to the side, leading you right up to the railing where you could clearly feel the breeze. The cacophony you'd just escaped from was still very much audible from this distance, but you found its volume to be much more bearable now. There was also plenty of room out here, as well as far fewer people, and for the first time since you'd entered the bar earlier that night, you felt like you could finally breathe.

You leaned forward, bracing yourself against the railing as you took deep breaths in through your nose, before slowly exhaling through your mouth, and you could feel your body ever so slowly start to relax more and more with each one you took. Josh was quiet for the time being, his hand moving from your side to your back and rubbing up and down in a soothing motion while you caught your breath. Despite feeling calmer, the tears were more difficult to stop, anger and embarrassment at yourself nagging you in the back of your mind, unable to shake the feeling that you'd just ruined whatever fun he'd been having that night.

You felt something soft touch your arm and you looked up to see a packet of tissues in Josh's other hand as he offered them to you, still silently rubbing your back. You happily accepted them, tearing the plastic open and grabbing a couple before reaching up and wiping your face, your breath still hitching here and there as you tried to steady yourself mentally. After a few more moments of quiet you finally heard Josh speak up, his voice soft and concerned.

"How're you doing? Any better?"

You bit your lip out of nerves, nodding as you finally worked up the courage to look him in the eye for the first time since leaving the doorway by the bar. You were expecting to see anger, annoyance, judgement; honestly all the things you felt about yourself right now reflected back at you in his face, but instead you saw nothing but sympathy and concern painted across his features. In any other situation you'd be positively swooning over how he was looking at you so tenderly. It was another couple moments before the ability to speak finally came back to you, and you let out a heavy, shaking sigh.

“Y-yeah I… I’m alright now…. Thanks.” you trailed off, trying to swallow down the shame that had been slowly creeping into your mind. “I… I’m so sorry about this… I d-didn’t mean to ruin everyone’s night.”

“Ok, first of all-” Josh said in a calm but firm voice, his palm on your back pressing into you a bit more and pulling you closer to him. “We’re not gonna do that tonight, alright? You didn’t ruin damn thing, you had a panic attack and that’s not your fault.” It took everything in you to not star crying again when he said that, though at least this time it would've been because you were touched by his concern and not because you were upset.

“And second, I should be the one apologizing to you. That street can be really intense if you’re not ready for it, and I should’ve checked with you ahead of time that you were. I never would’ve picked such a crowded spot if I knew that was gonna be an issue for you.”

You sniffled a little bit, shaking your head as you slowly pulled yourself together. “I-it’s ok, really... Like, normally I can handle crowds and loud noise, but being packed in like that, with everyone bumping into you and all the noise and lights on top of it... that can just be too much for me to handle sometimes, you know?” You watched as Josh nodded along to what you spoke, indicating that he was listening, and knowing that he wasn't going to judge you for how you reacted was helping the residual panic and shame you still felt fade away.

“And then on top of that, today just like.... kind of sucked, in general. I mean, nothing terrible happened or anything, but it was a whole bunch of little things, one after the other. I totally fucked up making breakfast, my cat threw up on my favorite pair of shoes, I got a parking ticket for a really ridiculous reason, and I have some other work deadlines coming up that’re stressing me out, so I already wasn’t in the best headspace to deal with all of...That tonight.” you gestured your hand back towards the direction of Broadway.

"Then when that chick jabbed me in the back it just... snapped something inside me. I-I know it was an accident, and I don’t blame her for what she did, but it honestly startled me so bad, and I just lost it..."

"I don’t blame you,” he replied sympathetically “That’s entirely too much shit to deal with in a single day.”

"And like... I-I know I could’ve asked for a raincheck, but I didn't wanna like, be rude or have you guys think I was blowing you off. Because I didn’t want to blow you guys off! Especially not for something so stupid..."

"Hey, it's not stupid at all." He replied adamantly, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Those kind of crappy days have a way if wearing you down way harder than you’d think."

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding as it felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. You’d been so, so worried that Josh was going to be angry, or that he wouldn’t have understood what had happened, as had been the case for you so many times before. His hand began gently rubbing your back again in a soothing motion, and the two of you slipped into silence for a moment, letting the cool breeze coming off of the river wash over you. Even with the music still pounding in the distance, you could hear the sound of the river rushing under you if you listened closely enough, and so you did, finding the sound incredibly soothing. It was almost hypnotizing in a way, and you weren’t sure how much time had passed before Josh spoke again, but when he did, you were a little surprised by what he had to say.

“I know a couple smaller clubs on the outskirts of the city we could check out next time. They've still got all the good drinks and music, but they aren’t nearly as intense as that one was.” he suggested, flashing you a warm smile.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, those definitely sound like my kind of place. But you seriously want me to hang out with you guys again after that whole mess?”

“Of course! So you had a bad night, it happens to the best of us. We aren’t gonna hold it against you. Besides, why wouldn��t we wanna hang out with someone as awesome as you?”

You let out a small chuckle, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips as nervous blush crept onto your cheeks. “Well, I’m not sure about awesome... but I’m glad to know you guys enjoy my company.”

“What, are you kidding me?” he retorted enthusiastically, his dark eyes sparkling in the dim lights of the bridge. “You’re absolutely awesome! You’re so nice and welcoming to everyone, you’ve got an incredible sense of humor, great taste in music, and you are delightfully weird!” You were glad the lighting on the bridge wasn’t the best where you were standing, because your face was rapidly turning red as he kept showering you with compliments.

“Well, thank you.” You replied somewhat shyly, a grin spreading across your face as you found Josh’s good mood infectious, feeling much more at ease now than you had earlier. In a sudden streak of boldness you struck a small pose, with one hand framing your face dramatically. “But what, no mention of my flawless good looks?”

You were just kidding around, of course, and Josh knew you were too. But even still, you couldn't help but notice the way Josh’s eyes widened and his smile twitched ever so slightly when you said that, or how he seemed to be blushing if the way his cheekbones suddenly appeared darker were anything to go by.

“I mean...” he began with a small shrug, his smile downright sheepish at this point “That’s so incredibly obvious that I kinda figured it went without saying. But they’re definitely a bonus!”

You let out a nervous laugh, feeling your face burn from the sudden rush of blood to it, and you turned to face back towards the river. You couldn’t keep looking at him when he said that, not when he said it while he had his hand on your back, not when he was blushing while he said it, not when he said it so... so earnestly. You pressed into his side a bit more firmly, and you swore you could feel his heart beating faster in his chest.

“Yeah, well... don’t sell yourself short, you’ve got a face that could give Errol Flynn a run for his money.” you half-teased, nudging him affectionately in the ribs with your elbow. He let out a small chuckle beside you, his arm still firmly wrapped around your shoulder and he gave your arm a soft, affectionate squeeze in return. The two of you said nothing for a moment, just enjoying each other’s company and touch as you both gazed out over the river, watching the lights of the city twinkle and glimmer on it’s dark surface.

“Is... is it cool if we just stay up here for a little while?” you asked, suddenly feeling very physically tired after this whole ordeal. “I hate to just ditch the others and leave them in that bar, but I honestly don’t think I could handle going back in there tonight.”

“Oh don’t worry, a bar is the best place we could possibly leave them.” Josh said with a chuckle. “But seriously, we can stay out here as long as you need.” he assured, giving you a firm hug from the side and flashing you a soft, reassuring smile. “We don’t have to go anywhere.”

A sudden surge of warmth and fatigue washed over you, and you found yourself leaning more heavily into Josh’s frame, which he seemed to welcome, finally letting your head come to rest on his shoulder. Your eyes slipped closed for a second, and you took a deep breath before letting out a soft, contented sigh.

“Thank you so much for everything you did for me tonight. I seriously can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.” He hummed softly in reply as he leaned back against you, the weight of his cheek suddenly pressing into the top of your head.

“Anytime, Y/N. I’ll always have your back.”

#greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #josh kiszka x reader #sidecut fics #because I guess that's a tag I need now x'D #I still can't believe I actually wrote something again after all this time. I had so much goddang fun!

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capaimagines · 3 years

Text

bang chan - safe

Pairing: Mafia leader!Bang Chan x Reader | Genre: mafia, angst & fluff | Warnings: mentions of a break in, fighting, mafia themes | WC: 1.6k

Request: Bang Chan mafia leader where you and Chan are having a night in when he hears someone downstairs and goes to check it out and calling for backup when he hears you scream upstairs bc one of the attackers had you !! Your got7 mafia fic was amazing

Safety and security was the one thing Chan always promised you. He wanted to keep you safe at all costs. You had put all your trust in him that he would keep his word. Being a small town girl you really had no idea about the inner and outer workings of the mafia. For a while there, you truly believed that things like that were all fairy tales and stories parents would tell their kids to warn them off of the idea of gangs and such.

When you met Chan that had quickly faded. Even then he had kept you safe, you were just an innocent passer-by. You had moved to the big city to land a good job and make money for your family. You hadn’t expected to walk—quite literally—into the crossfire of Chan’s group and another group. One of the men from the other group had grabbed you, pressing the head of his gun into your temple.

You were trembling and Chan could sense that, within seconds he had stood up. He may be a mafia leader, but he never harmed someone who was innocent. Especially a girl as cute as you. He had shot the man in the centre of his head without hesitation. Of course he didn’t miss; he never did. You had fallen to your knees in horror, trembling and shaking with nerves and disbelief at what just unfolded in front of you.

Chan, being your knight in shining armor, took you back to their base and helped calm you down after reassuring you that he only wanted to help protect you and that he or his team weren’t going to hurt you. You two started talking more and more and outside of his work, he was just a normal boy also finding his way in the world. It didn’t take long before you two started dating and he had always kept his word. He was to always keep you safe. You never had to look over your shoulder or fear that you’d be snatched when you were on your own.

Tonight though you had asked Chan for a night in. All you wanted to do was eat junk food and watch movies while you cuddled with him. A typically normal boyfriend-girlfriend thing to do. He had happily agreed and you two were sat with a tub of ice cream between you as you intensely focused on the Disney movie playing on the screen. You were so focused you almost missed the sound of glass breaking. Almost.

Of course Chan had heard it. He always seemed to be on high alert 24/7. You couldn’t blame him though. His career path was more dangerous than most and he couldn’t afford to be caught off guard, but that’s exactly what was happening right now. He had sent everyone home for the night, wanting to just spend time with you.

“Stay here and have Hyunjin ready on speed dial,” Chan told you.

You nodded, quickly pulling out your phone as Chan seemed to whip a small handgun out of nowhere. That was something that took you some time to get used too. Weapons of any kind just randomly hidden around the large home. Chan slowly opened the bedroom door before looking back over his shoulder at you.

“Don’t leave this room or open the door for anyone. I’ll come back for you,” You gulped at his words before nodding, feeling the anxiety start to take over you.

Chan quietly closed the door and you quickly stood up to lock it. You hadn’t noticed with your shaking hands that you had pressed Hyunjin’s contact and were currently connected to him. You heard someone saying hello and scrambled for your phone.

“Hyunjin! Hi! Sorry, we heard glass breaking downstairs and Chan wanted me to—HEY!”

You whipped your head around as someone plucked your phone from your ear. You did not like being interrupted in the middle of a conversation. When you had a knife aimed at your throat though, you couldn’t complain too much. The man was significantly larger than you. You had never seen him before but with the crazed grin on his face, you were happy this was your first meeting, and last.

Being the girlfriend of a mafia leader didn’t leave you completely defenceless. You knew how to defend yourself if you ever had too, you had just hoped you would never have too. You eyed the man in front of you, the glint of the metal blade hitting off the light which caused you to gulp, trying to understand how the hell you were going to knock that out of his hand without getting cut.

“Sorry, pretty girl,” The stranger cooed and you swallowed down bile, “You’re going to have to come with me,” You stood up slowly, never taking your gaze off the blade.

You briefly met the man’s gaze and clicked your tongue, “I don’t think so. You’re not really my type,” You could visibly see the man startle at your response. He obviously thought you were going to be an easy target.

“Then I guess you’ll just have to die here with your pretty boyfriend.” He remarked that you could only scoff in response as you rolled your eyes.

“That’s not really an option either,” The man looked very confused at the small figure that was talking back to him. He wasn’t here to play games though. His orders were clear. Either he brought you back with him alive or killed you there. He made his move and you quickly ducked down, thankfully Minho had taught you a few little tricks with examining one's movements.

You moved, yet not quick enough that the blade grazed your shoulder. You hissed in pain and turned to narrow your eyes at the man in front of you. He looked shocked, yet again, that you were putting up a fight. He growled, coming towards you again and you didn’t get as lucky. His knife cut into your hand as you grabbed for the blade which resulted in a hiss from you due to the pain, jumping back and that’s when he wrapped his arm around your neck.

“CHAN!” You screamed as loud as you could. You were so pent up on adrenaline you hadn’t heard anything that was going on downstairs. Now, your ears were open and you could hear banging and grunting coming from down there. You had only hoped Hyunjin was smart enough to know he should bring the others.

Thankfully, you’re assumption that Hyunjin was smart because a few seconds after you screamed, the bedroom door was kicked open by none other than Changbin with Chan hot on his heels. You were struggling against the man’s hold in hopes to wiggle out.

“Let. Her. Go,” Chan looked deadly and Changbin’s glare was no better. You were close with all the boys, but Changbin was probably one you were closest to besides Chan.

“Sorry, pretty boy, I have orders so she’s coming with me,” You felt something press against your neck and you groaned, finally letting your hands fall.

“I can’t believe this is happening again!” Everyone around you seemed pretty shocked at your words. Here you were, on the brink of being kidnapped or dead and you were making comments like that?

You heard the click of Chan’s gun being cocked and closed your eyes. You had seen the very quick flash of silver hair outside the window, signalling that it was Felix. You weren’t the one dying today at least. It was going to be the barbarian that still had his hands on you.

“Last chance,” Chan stated firmly, “Let. Her. Go,” Chan’s voice was dripping with venom and his grip on the handle of the gun was iron tight.

The man only laughed and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. You inhaled a large breath and drew your elbow, swinging back as hard as you could. It was enough to surprise him and loosen his grip, which helped you to promptly slip away and scurry towards Chan. He saw the blood on your shoulder and the cut on your hand. His eyes darkened as he turned back to the intruder.

However, before he could pull the trigger, Felix graciously crashed through the window and tackled him. His hands were bound behind his back before he could even understand what had happened. You only smirked at the man as Chan ordered for him to be brought back to their base.

“I told you I wasn’t dying today, pretty boy,” You spat the words out and it seemed to anger the man but there wasn’t much he could do as he laid on the floor and hogtied.

Chan sighed as Changbin and Felix carried him out. He turned to you with a worried smile, immediately inspecting your hand, “I’ll come with you and let Minho patch it up. But I’m fine, Chan. Really. See?” You held his hand to your heart so he could feel it beating, “I’m right here, I’m breathing and I’m alive. Now let’s go! We just got this carpet and now my hand is dripping blood all over it.”

Chan could only chuckle as he gently guided you out the bedroom door and down to the car. Once he made sure you were safely settled in, he backed out and started driving.

“Are you really okay?” He asked after a few minutes of silence. You smiled and nodded at him then puckered your lips together before looking back out the window.

“Felix is going to owe us a new window by the way. That wasn’t cheap.”

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lucky-catttt · 3 years

Text

Maxwell Lord’s Aphrodite - Pt 2

Summary: When Maxwell Lord’s world comes crashing down, you, his personal assistant bring him back from the pits of despair.

Pairings: Maxwell Lord x Reader (female), Maxwell Lord x You

Rating: Mature 18+ ONLY, NO MINORS ALLOWED TO READ.

Word Count: 3,885

Warnings: Prepare to put a towel down or go touch some grass after, either or LOL Mention of genitals, oral sex, squirting, face fucking, choking, names, foreplay, degradation, aftercare, BDSM, sexism/sexual harrassment.

A/N: This is my first fan-fic, so the writing might not be fantastic, but if you have any pointers/advice please tell me! I’ve also added images and gifs to help readers imagine the scenarios and reactions!

“So what kind of proposal were we thinking of that would save Black Gold corporation?” Max quizzes, leaning back against his chair. You pause to think while finishing your pastry. “Well” you begin “This space is huge, around 4,300 square feet. The lease Black Gold is renting this office floor has no major restrictions on it, so you could potentially sub-let the space on the floor for a monthly or fixed term lease to people who work remotely or teams that don’t want to commit to a larger office space. It's becoming more common because of the GFC, people can't commit to large long term leases for whole office floors anymore. You could also rent out the boardroom by the hour & also lease the private manager offices to businesses that want their own private room. And we already have a reception near the lifts, just re-hire them and make them pretend they work for all the businesses on the floor, answering their calls, doing admin work like scanning and faxing etc. As far as the business’s clients that show up are concerned, each business looks like they own the whole floor.

If we do a cost analysis and then get a small investor to cover the startup costs, we could guarantee them a return if businesses pay contract deposits or pay their lease in advance up front. Plus the landlord we owe money to. And with the top floor with amazing views and location, we can charge top dollar” Max stares at you in disbelief. “Wow, are you sure you don’t wanna be CEO?” He laughs, still in shock. You laugh, blushing. “I started working on a business proposal for one of my university assessments, if we customise it for this project we could pitch it to some investors and banks and speak to the landlord about it as well” You reply. “I could kiss you right now.” Maxwell sighs, gripping his fist. “Please do” you giggle, leaning towards him. Max reaches out both hands to cup your face, before planting a passionate kiss on your lips. “Well, I guess we have a lot of work to do!” Max yells, before striding towards the bathroom to take a shower. Two weeks go by and the proposal is ready. Max calls you from the company car, on the way to your house to pick you up before the big investors meeting. “I’ll be right outside your place in a few minutes my sweet” He coos, beaming with excitement to see you. As his car pulls up, you collect your compendium, presentation cards and your pointer rod. Struggling with all you have to carry, Alfred rushes out of the car and up the steps to the front door, collecting all of your belongings.

Maxwell peers over the top of his shades but the sun from behind your house blinds him. He shuffles across the seat and opens the car door, the sun now hiding from his view. As he removes his shades and looks up the stairs towards your front door, he sees you standing there, fixing your outfit. He’s stunned.

It might be 1984, but you’re wearing a stunning outfit pulled straight from the 50s. A black suit dress with a pleat in the front with a thin gold belt around your waist. You accented the look with strap Mary jane heels, a black and gold handbag and a neat beret fascinator. Your hair was curled, accentuated with bright red lipstick and a single set of pearl earrings.

Max looks like he’s about to drop to his knees in awe, but his knees bend into a lengthy stride up the stairs, rushing to your side. “A heavenly vision of beauty'' Max gasps, giving you a kiss on the cheek in an attempt to preserve your makeup. He puts out his arm and you wrap your hands around it, as he leads you down your stairs to the car, staring at you the whole time, letting the universe guide his steps as this absolute goddess graces his presence. You both slide into the back seat of Max’s company car, his large hand immediately passing along your back and resting on your hip and ass, pulling you as close to him as possible. “I dont know how this presentation is going to go, but I can be absolutely certain that myself and every other person in that room will be enraptured by your presence”. he murmurs into your neck, squeezing your ass.

Max was wearing a pinstripe royal blue suit with black laced oxfords. His matching tie and pocket square peeking out. “I would kiss you right now but i don't want to get lipstick on your face just before our meeting” you blush, rubbing your nose against his. “I know. We have all the time in the world after” Max replies, running his nose down your neck, breathing gently against your skin.

“We should probably prepare for the meeting, Max” you chuckle, seeing the office building not far up the road. You pull out your compendium and flip to an architectural blueprint of the office floor.

“I had this drawn up by an architectural drafter last week. As you can see the large blank space is your office and private room, you already have the glass frosted for privacy. All the other office cubicles will be converted to private offices, as well as boardrooms, co-working areas and remote working hot spots.” Max’s eyes widen with surprise at the level of detail. “How did you get this done? I certainly don't remember commissioning this'' rubbing his chin. “I paid for it” you respond, nonchalantly. “You spent your money, for me?” Max inquires, now in disbelief. “Of course. I told you I would help you, Max. Consider it an investment”. You wink, flipping through more pages of the presentation. Just when Max thought he couldn't fall more in love with you than he already has, your hard work and giving nature makes his heart swell even larger to make room. After a few minutes the car pulls up to the investor’s office building. “Before we go in there, I want to ask you something.” Your eyes widen with intrigue. “While we're there, I’m not sure how these businessmen will react to a woman being anything more than my personal assistant. I’m not intimidated by you at all, but I suspect some of them might be” He continues, his eyes falling to your lap as he holds your hands. “Max, this project is my dream, but it’s your company, so i’m giving it to you to present. You’re the only person I trust with this”.

As Maxwell begins to get himself together, you take a seat adjacent to where Max is standing. Although your knees are together with one ankle behind the other, you can feel some of the businessmen closest to you looking you up and down like a piece of meat. You quickly turn to face Max, giving him your undivided attention. “Well, I know you’re all very busy, so lets get started” Max smiles, wringing his palms together. The businessmen listen intently to Max’s pitch for the restructure of Black Gold corporation, before they begin to ask questions on financials. You begin to notice the men losing interest and Max starting to lose his confidence. He looks at you, his expression half pleading and half embarrassed. Without any hesitation, you stand up from your chair, striding over to Max’s side, picking up the pointing rod from the easel and pulling it to full length with one swift pull.

The men all sit upright at attention from the sound of the rod. “If I may, Maxwell” you butt in, politely. “Gentleman” You steady the pointer rod against the chart on the easel “the profit figures on the project are as follows; 36 external view offices, charged at $3,000 per month each, generating $108,000 gross profit. The 25 internal offices with no view will be $500 per month, generating $12,500. We also have hot-desks with memberships starting at $20 per month. If companies want us to answer their phones, do their mail, bring them coffee, do their shopping, take their dry-cleaning, walk their dogs or bring them lunch, that's an additional fee. Essentially, we are looking at a monthly profit turnover of $150,000+. Our current lease fee is $50,000 a month with about $15,000 in body corporate and utilities, leaving $85,000 per month net profit, $225 thousand per quarter and over a million annually. We currently are looking for a combined setup cost of around $500,000. The more you invest, the bigger your return.” You swing the pointer road and rest it on your shoulder.

Silence fills the room and you panic. Your assertiveness may have turned them off, so you pretend to be ditzy and dip one of your feet inwards. The men who are all sitting up at attention, look between each other and nod. Your charm and business acumen seemed to have put them under some kind of spell. “Thanks for your time gentleman. If you have any questions please feel free to call” you finish, walking around to hand each of them Max’s business card. The men begin to chat amongst themselves, before one of them approaches Maxwell. They introduce themselves and begin chatting about the pitch “You should be very proud of your assistant Maxwell” they chuckle “she seems very switched on and driven”. Max shoots you a smiling glance, before turning back “Yeah, I’m actually going to make her the CFO” he responds. “Well, we’ll deliberate here and be back in touch with our offer”. The meeting finally wraps up and you both head back downstairs where Alfred is waiting with the car door already open. You both slide inside and Max wraps his arms around you before passionately kissing your lips as the car drives back to his office.

“You want to make me the.. CFO?” you pant, breaking from the kiss. “Yes” Max smiles, staring into your eyes. “You have worked so hard and today at the presentation..I know you’re the woman for the job. Do you want it?” You blush, holding his face “Well how can I say no?”. The company car finally pulls up back at the office and you both head through the lobby and into the lift. Max stands behind you with his arms wrapped around you and his head on your shoulder, talking about the enormous amount of work that will potentially need to be done if this deal goes through. As the lift doors open into the reception area, you both step out and Max hears the phone in his office start to ring. You give him an excited smile, encouraging him to go take the call in private. He begins striding through the empty office before making it to his office, pushing the doors open and heading over to his desk.

You take your time walking back to his office, giving Max time to finish his phone call. As you approach his office doors, you hear the click of the receiver as he hangs up. You watch Max’s shadow behind the frosted glass walk up to the doors and swing them open, a neutral look on his face. You look puzzled, thinking it was bad news before he burst out laughing with a smile, swinging you over his shoulder and carrying you to his bedroom. “You did it baby!” He yells, slapping your backside before throwing you both down onto the bed. “We did!?” you scream, a wave of relief and excitement washing over you. “Yes! I’m so proud of you. You saved Black Gold corporation. You saved me.” Max smiles, brushing a lock of curls away from your face before cupping your cheek and passionately kissing you.

You kick off your shoes, belt and take off your beret fascinator as Max removes his suit jacket, suspenders and belt, before kissing each other again. “I was so turned on by you today” Max moans, writhing his hands all over your body, before ripping the bust of your dress open, the two buttons pinging off onto the carpet. “Watching your voluptuous ass in that dress walking into that boardroom and how you commanded the room’s attention, took control and sealed the deal. I wanted to put you over that boardroom table and worship you like the goddess you are. But I guess I can do that now”. Something about wearing your favourite suit of his, the unwavering progressive support of women and eagerness to pleasure you unlocks your most ravenous sexual desires. You stop Max, sitting up at the foot of the bed. He gets up from laying down and looks at you, worried he said or did something wrong. “Whats wrong my love?” he asks, looking concerned. ****MAJOR SMUT WARNING AHEAD**** “Max… you’ve shown me the romantic love making version which was so beautiful, but I want to make you feel worshipped” Max gives you an interesting glance. “You’re such a giving person but I want to give back. You’ve suffered neglect and mistreatment most of your life. I want to give you a different kind of passionate sex. I have fantasies and wild ideas that I think will give you immense pleasure. I want you to….” You stop yourself, not sure how he will react. Max's eyes widened with intrigue. “Go on?” Max squeezes your hand. “Well” you begin. The passionate fire is burning hotter and hotter within you. “I want you…” you hitch up your skirt and sit across Max’s lap, with one leg over each side “to straddle my chest and fuck my throat while I rub my clit” you get closer to Max’s face, pulling on his tie “And I want to cum while you’re throat fucking and choking me with your cock” you begin to undo his tie “And then I want you to cum in the back of my throat and make me swallow it”. There’s dead silence, so you bat your eyelash extensions, throwing a sexy yet innocent gaze followed by “hmmm?”. Max’s mind goes completely blank, the blood rushing from every inch of his body straight to his cock, which you feel hardened against your crotch as you straddle him. “Uhh wow honey that sounds very dangerous.” Max chokes, embarrassed he's getting turned on at the idea of hurting you.

“For you or me?” You giggle, biting your lip. “For you” Max says, wrapping his arms around you. “Are you sure that’s something you want me to do to you Hermosa?”. “Yes Maxwell. I love the way you worship and pleasure me, but I want you to feel the same way. I have a kink when it comes to being dominated. Seeing my man so turned on and using his strength and body to please himself using me, makes me feel incredible. I know you would never hurt me, it’s something I would love for you to experience” You answer before kissing his neck. “You really are too good to me, princessa” Max sighs, running his hands down your back to your ass, squeezing both cheeks. “Of course, we don’t have to if you don’t want to, Max” you give him a reassuring look, worried you might have overstepped. “No baby, I’d love to, if that’s what will bring you the most pleasure” He coos, kissing your neck.

You begin to take off your dress, revealing under a black and gold laced lingerie set. “Black and Gold” you chuckle, watching Max’s eyes widen at the level of detail. “How did I get so lucky?” Max pants, pulling off his shirt and pants, leaving his boxers to contain his rock hard cock. You go to reach for Max’s crotch when his hand stops you. “Before we do this” Max begins “I want you to stop me at any time if it hurts or you can’t breathe or you just don’t want to do it anymore. That is the most important thing to me”. You nod and smile at Max, leaning in to kiss him, before your hands start to remove his boxers.

You reach down and begin to tease his cock, tracing your fingers tips against the tip. With your other hand you guide Max’s hand down, placing it at the top of your panties. As he starts to put his hands under your panties, he notices there’s a hole in them. Max stops to inspect. “Crotchless panties? Me vuelves loco” Max pants before he begin kissing and biting all over your body.

You’re in for it now. Like a virus, you’ve taken over Max’s brain, flooding it with animalistic desire and passion. A switch has been flipped and hell bent on blowing your mind, leaving all of his inhibitions and reservations about what he’s about to do to you at the door. Max climbs on top of you, wrapping his large hand around your throat, gently squeezing as you gasp for air. “Is this what you want?” He growls into your ear, nibbling on your earlobe before kissing down your neck. You manage to nod before moaning, indicating that you’re enjoying it. He’s never treated a woman like this before, but he manages to find the personality and words seemingly from thin air, like it was repressed all this time. “Start touching yourself for me now” Max commands. You slide your hand down into your panties and start rubbing your clit, sparks flying through your body and the slick now leaking out of your pussy. He groans at the sight of you touching yourself. Max moves up the bed before straddling over your chest. With your head propped up on some pillows, you look in Max’s eyes and ready your mouth and jaw for his throbbing cock. Max thumbs your bottom lip before grabbing just under your jaw to keep your face steady. “Open wide like the good little whore that you are” he hisses, smacking the tip of his precum soaked cock on your face.

The degrading name only makes you wetter, as you furiously rub your clitoris whilst pinned under Max’s legs. You moan as Max pushes his cock into your mouth and down your throat. “Oh my god my love your mouth feels incredible” Max moans, his character from before severely altered by the pleasurable sensation. He realises his mistake and compensates by pushing his cock as far as it will fit into your mouth and throat. “That’s it, take it all” he smirks, exhaling with a moan. You use two fingers to scoop up some of your slick and rub it into your clitoris, which is now super sensitive. Your stifled moans humming against Max’s veiny cock cause it to twitch. With your hips bucking from pleasuring yourself, Max takes both of his hands and puts them on your cheeks. “Fuck your mouth feels so good” Max moans, slowly thrusting back and forth out of your mouth, his cock touching your uvula and causing you to gag with each stroke. Your eyes begin to roll back in your skull as you continue to moan & choke, your swollen clitoris edging closer and closer to orgasm. “You like this huh? You like it when Daddy fills your throat up and fucks it?” Max hisses, wrapping your hair in between his fingers, gripping hard as his thrusts gain more momentum. Thick strings of spit is now spilling out of your mouth, down your chin and onto your breasts. “You look

The taste of Max’s precum coating the back of your tongue. You’re fighting to contain your orgasm but Max’s cock and brutal punishing words are sending you dangerously close to the edge. “Mmmmm, mmmmm!” You choke, tears welling in your eyes as you’re trying to nod and send Max a pleasured innocent gaze, driving him wild. You concentrate on breathing through your nose, each time Max’s cock leaves the back of your throat for a split second, giving you enough time to take in air. You decide to start moving your flattened tongue against the shaft, rubbing against the tip as it passes back and forth. Max let’s out a groan “You’re such a good little putá for papá”. There’s no holding back now, you increase your moans to signal that you’re on the precipice of an orgasm. “Cum for me” Max hisses, continuing the ecstasy inducing tempo of thrusts into your mouth and throat. You continue to rub your clit and gesture for Max to keep his cock still inside your mouth and throat for this moment, riding the crashing wave of your orgasm, squirting furiously onto your legs and sheets below. The writhing and shaking of your body underneath him, the sound of your squirting and muffled cries and moans from behind his cock is too much and brings him closer much faster than he ever anticipated. The eye-watering sensation causes the tears to flow down your cheeks, causing your mascara to run.

As your orgasm begins to subside you gesture for Max to continue thrusting, which he does as he moves his large hands to cup your face. “That felt fucking amazing” Max moans, continuing his fast and hard strokes. Your gaze, burning with passion and framed within smudged running eyeliner locks with Max’s, his domineering yet still showing affection. “I’m gonna cum” Max pants, keeping the pace as his grip on your face grows tighter. “Fuckkkk!!!” He shouts, holding your head still as he holds one final thrust as far in as it will go. Your eyes roll back into your head again as you feel the warm thick ropes of cum spurt onto the back of your throat. It was lucky you had taken a large enough breath before that moment, enough to sustain you for the few seconds Max held his cock still inside your mouth, throbbing and pulsing as he moans and shudders, cursing in Spanish. Coming back to reality, Max immediately pulls his softening cock from your mouth and wraps his large hands on the top and bottom of your face, closing your jaw shut. “Now Swallow” he commands, bending down so that his face inches from yours. With a cheeky gaze you oblige and swallow the remains of his cum tangled in your throat, before opening your jaw to allow him to inspect if there was any left. “My good little leche putá” he whispers, before spitting in your wide open mouth.

As if like breaking character on a movie set, Max immediately reverts back to his original self, climbing off to the side to lay next to you. “Was that good for you my love? How do you feel?” Max asks, worried he’s harmed your physical and mental state. “Incredible” you pant, smiling, lying in a pool of your own squirt. Breathing a sigh of relief, Max quickly brings up the blankets to cover you both, embracing you and peppering your spit, mascara and tear soaked face with kisses. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Max quizzes, checking your chest and throat over. “No” you reply, your throat somewhat hoarse. “Okay good. I love you so much” Max sighs, brushing your hair out of your face and kissing your forehead. “I love you too, Max”.

————————

I got impatient and wanted to post it now so I guess this chapter is finished 💀

@anaaaispunk @mandoalorian @pintsizemama

#maxwell lord #max lord #max lord x reader #max lord x you #max lord smut #maxwell lord smut #max lord x f!reader #maxwell lord x f!reader #javier pena #pedro pascal

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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years

Note

Aaaaa this is a fic request, where kondraki is with an s/o where they are a normal civilian and is completely oblivious to whatever is going on, until she got curious and snooped around, found out about the foundation and confronted kondraki about it, now he has too make her forget and give her anesthetics and it might lead to some really good angst >:)

‘With All My Love, Kondraki.’

[Dr. Kondraki X F!Reader]

[Warnings: language, angst]

[AN: it's 4.1K words. lots of love and the pacing is weird]

When you first met Benjamin Kondraki, you had never been so confused on how a peach so sweet could be related to a lemon so sour.

“Miss Reader, Miss Reader!” The buzzling little boy at the dining room table began to prod. He jumps excitedly, almost spilling his orange juice as one of his mothers packs her bag up, getting ready for her long work day. She continues to move, currently looking for things she may need when her front door opens, revealing a woman dressed appropriately for the warm summer day.

“Hi Mrs. Wei,” you greet, kicking your shoes off at the door, and placing the keys back into your bag. You notice she’s searching - probably for her car keys.

The black haired woman looks up from her current task and beams. “Reader! I’m so glad you could make it. Thank you so much for coming on such short notice,” she says as she briefly waves at you. “Nia originally had the day off but something went wrong at the lab and she has to go in, and I have to be at the salon today-”

You smile and wave her off, reaching over on the sofa for her car keys. You cross the distance and hold the keys out to her. “Don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t miss spending time with this special little guy for the world,” you chuckle, looking over to the happy little boy as he scarfs up his breakfast. Looks like today was waffles.

Mrs. Wei takes her keys and heads over to her son, pressing her lips to the crown of his head. “You be good for Miss Reader, okay?” She reminds him with a small smile as he happily gazes up at her. “Again, thank you for coming on short notice.”

You wave her off with a small chuckle. “It’s nothing. Have a good day at work.”

Mrs. Wei opens the front door of her house, once again waving to her son before nodding at you. “Nia will text you when she’s coming home. You two have fun,” she says, the door closing after her with a soft click.

Shortly after that as you sit down at the table with Markl, you hear her car come to life and peel out of the driveway. Your attention is now on this special little boy. “So, are you ready for a fun day?” You inquire, pouring yourself a glass of orange juice.

Markl nods, his dark eyes shimmering in the light. “Super ready!” He exclaims with a wide smile.

You can’t help but giggle. “What do you wanna do today?” You hum. “We could go to the beach, or the mall-”

“I wanna go to the park,” he interjects in a way that only five year olds can. “There’s a boy I’m really good friends with and I want to see him again.” Markl begins to rattle off, excitedly telling you about all his adventures only pausing to finish up his food or drink some more orange juice. He’s beaming.

You listen to him with such a large smile, every now and then reminding him to finish. When he’s done, it’s barely 10 in the morning. Markl wanted to watch some TV and then get dressed and ready for the park. He’s a big boy, so you trusted him to get ready by himself without your help - and he’s developing a quick sense of style. Right now, tiaras and t-rexes are all the rage.

In the meantime, you check the weather. Looks like today is going to be a really nice day. “Hey, Markl?”

“Yeah?”

“Which park are we going to in order to see your friend?”

“The one with the really big rocketship,” he calls out.

You hum. Okay, that’s the one by the beach. “Sweetie, you want me to pack a beach bag? Planning on going in the water?”

A slight pause before you can hear the little boy go ‘uh-huh!’

You turn off the TV and begin to pack, quickly moving through some of the rooms for some beach things. Luckily, you already have some of your own beach things in your car. Markl finally comes down the stairs right when you finish packing and you see he’s got a dinosaur swim top on, some shorts, and his favorite flip flops paired with a plastic tiara he won on the last day of school. “Lookin’ good,” you compliment as you glance over the house, once again fishing around for your keys.

Markl beams and hops down the stairs to be at your side. “Time to go?”

“Time to go,” you answer, opening the front door.

Markl practically hops out of your car once you make it to the beach side park. You have to tell him to hold his horses and he pouts for a moment because apparently, his friend is waiting for him. You lean in the backseat and get out the beach bag. “Okay, okay, we can go now,” you say as you sling it over your shoulder. It’s warm, almost impossibly warm. Thank goodness you’re by the sea.

You watch as Markl speeds off towards the giant rocketship, kicking up sand as he does so. He’s calling out for another little boy - “Draven? Where are you?” He calls out.

You watch with curiosity as Markl runs about the playground, moving past the other kids. You tilt your head slightly and take a seat on the bench, watching as Markl runs around.

“There you are!” He finally cries out happily, running up and smacking into another boy similar in height. He’s got curly black hair, much like Markl, but much lighter skin. They instantly wrap arms around each other before running off to play on the giant rocketship.

Smiling, you pull out a book from your bag and begin to read, listening every now and then to the boys as they play. You’re glad Markl has a friend.

The warm summer day begins to tick by and around noon, you hear small steps padding up against the sand to come see you.

“Miss Reader,” Markl starts, peering over your book. “Can we go play in the water?” He asks, eyes akin to that of a puppy.

You bookmark your page and nod before pausing. “Oh, what about Draven? Does his mom say it’s okay?” You ask, not wanting to run off with some other person’s kid.

Markl and Draven share a look at each other before pulling at you. “Let’s go ask!”

You raise your brows and hurriedly get your things together, crossing the sandy playground to the other side where some man sits. He’s got dark black hair, slightly curled, and looks exhausted.

“Daddy, daddy!” Draven calls out, happily bounding up to the man you now recognize as his father. “Can I go play in the water?”

The man raises a brow, looking at his son and the boy he recognizes as his son’s friend. “She gonna be watching you?”

You bristle slightly. ‘She’? You press your lips into a tight line. “You do realize I have a name, right?” You say, resting your hands on your hips.

The man blinks, a huff escaping his lips. “Apologies.” It’s said in such a hollow tone. “I’m Benjamin Kondraki, most people call me by my last name.” He holds his hand out to you.

You narrow your eyes and center yourself. “Reader, Reader Last,” you reply, taking his hand. You put on a smile and then let him go. “I’ll watch Draven,” you say.”

“Don’t you wanna go in the water with them?”

You blink. “I guess?” It was an awfully hot day. Maybe he has a point.

“And you can’t do that while you’re holding all of these things, right?”

You nod.

Kondraki stands up, stretching his limbs before he ruffles his son’s hair, and then Markl’s who laughs loudly and joyously. “I’ll take a seat on the beach, watch your stuff.”

You spent the rest of the day swimming with the two boys, tossing them into the water and playing with them. Markl was happy you were able to play, and Draven was just pleased he was able to go in the water. Normally, Kondraki didn’t let him go in! At one point, Kondraki became the judge over a sandcastle contest between the three of you and Markl ended up winning!

“You did put in good effort,” he said, a sly grin on his lips as you flicked the water droplets off your hand at him. He laughed.

Draven and Markl hugged each other tight, trying hard to spend more time with each other when it’s time to go. Both you and Kondraki struggled to get the boys apart from each other. But, sleepiness from a long day affects even the strongest of bonds and the two were peeled away once the yawning commenced.

“I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” you say over your shoulder as Kondraki rests a tired Draven in his arms.

“Sure,” he hummed. “Have a nice evening.”

You warmly smile, almost displeased he’s not returning the gesture.

What an odd man.

Shortly after coming back to Markl’s place, Nia had texted she’d be home soon and right when you were cuddling with Markl on the couch to a fun movie (he’d insisted on watching Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron).

“You two look like you’ve had an eventful day,” she smiles, kicking off her shoes and getting ready to relax in her home. She brushes her fingers upwards and takes out the hair tie, letting her braids fall down her back.

“We did,” you say as Nia sits down on the couch next to her son, her gentle arms taking him into her arms. “Met Draven’s dad.”

“Konny?” Nia perks up. “He’s a good friend of mine.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “He is? But he’s such a d-”

Nia laughs, her smile widening. “I know,” she giggles. She brushes her fingers through Markl’s hair. “He’s not a bag guy, promise.”

You roll your eyes and relax against the couch. “Sure.”

Nia only snickers in response.

The next time you see Kondraki is at Markl’s birthday party. And it’s safe to say that this time, you and Kondraki got along just fine. There were a few shifty glances thrown, but ultimately? Ultimately, the two of you sat at the table, had some cake, and poked fun at certain things. He made you laugh, and seeing him with Draven made you admittedly more friendly than you were expecting to be.

“Y’know, you’re not too bad,” you say, a small smile on your lips.

Kondraki chuckles under his breath as he hands you another glass of iced tea. “Should I be offended?” He jokes.

You lightly slap his shoulder and take the tea from him, sipping at it slowly. “Are you a dick to everyone you meet?”

Kondraki laughs this time, it bubbles up from his throat and exits like bubbles. His eyes crinkle slightly. “When am I not like that?” He grins.

“For work?” You hum, eyes shifting to Markl and Draven running around the backyard with other kids. You fail to notice how Kondraki freezes, a slight fear washing over his system before he clears his throat.

“Yeah, for work,” he says, attempting to keep up the light tone.

You sigh slightly in response, that same smile on your lips as you look back over to him. “I get it,” you say. “I can be a bit of a witch too.”

Kondraki playfully rolls his eyes. “Sure, like you have a mean bone in your body.” He takes a long sip at his drink.

“Could always change that if you leant me yours,” you absentmindedly say, not even realizing the implications until Kondraki practically chokes. A heat rises over your cheeks as Kondraki struggles to compose himself. “Oh my gods, I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t be!” He laughs, practically doubled over as your face heats up even more.

You pout and cross your arms over your chest, heart beating like a drum. You rake \your fingers across your face and take in a deep breath.

Kondraki grins wildly as he comes back up, brushing his fingers through his hair, his emerald colored eyes shining in the remaining sunlight. “So, what are you doing next Friday?”

You’ve been dating the man for three years now. A simple Friday date turned into another, and then another, and after that, it was breaking the news to Draven who was more than excited to have you in his life. Now? Now you’re about to make the biggest step in your relationship so far.

“And you’re sure you’re comfortable with this?” Kondraki asks as he rests his arm over your shoulders, looking at your cleared out apartment save for the plethora of brown boxes that litter the room. It looks so empty, and the echoes of both your voices is the clearest reminder. “Because like, I don’t want to force you into-”

You turn your head to the side and press your lips warmly to the corner of Kondraki’s mouth, making him melt into the simple touch. “We’re gonna be just fine,” you begin. “I am going to be just fine. You’ve been asking me this question ever since you first proposed that I move in with you,” you tease as Kondraki shifts, his hands resting warmly on your waist. Your fingers reach up to thread through his dark locks, eyes getting lost in his. “I hate being apart from you,” you murmur into his chest.

Kondraki hums warmly, his lips pressing to the crown of your head as he swats the two of you. “I know, I know,” he murmurs. “I just don’t want you to be overwhelmed or like I’m forcing you, y’know?” He attempts to explain as he averts his gaze for a moment.

You furrow your brows and flash him a knowing smile. “You don’t need to worry about me like you did-” her “it’s nothing. I’m a big girl, I can handle it,” you giggle, once again tilting your head upwards to press your lips to Kondraki’s.

He chuckles deeply, thankful you didn’t mention her name and squeezes you against him. He revels in the feeling of your hearts beating in sync before gently and reluctantly peeling away from you. “C’mon, last of these boxes?”

You grin. “Last of these boxes.”

“Is that the last of it?” You huff, dropping the box onto the living room floor.

Kondraki wipes back the hair that’s fallen over his brow and nods. “Yeah, I think we’re in the clear.” He stretches his arms a bit, then his back, and takes in a few deep breaths. “Who knew such a small apartment could hold so much stuff.”

You chuckle heartily, “I know, right?” You check your watch. “Oh! Your turn to pick up Draven,” you say as Kondraki glances to his own watch, brows shooting up in surprise.

“Shit, you’re right,” he says as he pulls open the front door again. “Be back in a bit, love you,” he says as he rushes out the door.

“Love you too,” you call back, watching as a sly smile spreads onto Kondraki’s lips, listening to the car start off in the distance. You hum as you get to work, already familiar with the house as you begin to move things around.

It’s honestly relatively mindless work considering a good portion of your things have already been moved to the house in preparation for this day. You’re about halfway through getting your clothes into the drawers Kondraki cleared out for you when you hear a ping. Curiosity gets the better of you and you stand up, looking for the pings. Multiple of them. Sounds like an instant messenger go off, but you’ve never heard that type of notification sound before.

You begin to search the room, crouching down and playing an odd sort of “marco polo” with the thing until you check the closet. There, hidden behind piles of out of commission sweaters is a laptop. Weird, how have you never noticed that before, especially with all the times you’ve spent in this specific room? You shake the thought off and begin to move the sweaters aside and grasp for the laptop. It looks new, like, really, really new. There’s no company mark on it either. Silver chrome, in good condition, you raise a brow.

‘Should I really be doing this?’ You ask yourself as you debate on prying open the laptop or not. You bite your lip and sigh before deciding that yes, you’re going to be nosy even if your boyfriend might not appreciate it. You’ve never gone through his things without his permission prior to, and this was just to stop the notifications that kept incessantly going on. You pry open the laptop, pupils constricting slightly with how bright the screen is.

Of course, it’s locked.

Curiously, the little chat bubble is still open, and you’re able to read the correspondence. You read over the names, there’s three. Gears, Bright, and Clef. Must be coworkers? They seem a tad worried.

Gears: You cannot keep spamming him in hopes it will work.

Clef: the hell I can’t?? He needs to get his ass over here

Bright: I’ve tried call him and it’s not working

Bright: which is weird because when was the last time you saw him off his phone

Gears: Dr. Kondraki, you are needed almost immediately.

Dr? You raise a brow and scroll upwards in the chat, hoping to get some type of answer. And it keeps going, hundreds of messages about work and things you’re just barely piecing together. Luckily, there’s a little button that allows you to go all the way to the top - or at least how far the logs go.

What is all of this? Images are sometimes shown about files or strange creatures. How is this even allowed out? Your mind begins to spin.

While you scroll through the chat, you look up things through your phone, whispers of things called ‘SCPs’ and containment procedures, and of course, you find next to nothing. Is this just some elaborate Dungeons and Dragons campaign? Your head is spinning further and further as you go down the rabbit hole.

Apparently, Gears, Bright and Clef need Kondraki for something in regards to SCP 239, and it may or may not break ethics code. The things they’re planning on doing… You’re not sure what to make of it. You’re so immensely confused, head practically tearing apart at the seams when the front door opens and you hear Kondraki step back inside, a long sigh on his lips.

“Reader? You in?” He calls out. “Sorry for coming back so late, Draven’s mom, she uh,” he chuckles uncomfortably under his breath, “Draven’s not gonna be with us this weekend.”

You panic and slam the laptop shut, struggling to get the room back in order as Kondraki makes his way to the bedroom.

“Baby, what are you doing?” He asks, brow raised as he leans in the bedroom doorway, arms slightly crossed.

“I was just putting away my clothes!” You rush out, smiling at him.

“Sure,” he says with a small chuckle. His eyes scan over you before he realizes you’re sitting in front of the closet. His heart begins to sink. “Reader…”

“Konny-”

“How much did you see?”

You bite your lip. “I didn’t see anything,” you say. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Kondraki can practically feel the lie radiating off of you. “What did you see?” He asks again.

You feel shivers running up and down your spine, your heart is constricting. “...What is SCP 239?”

A long sigh leaves Kondraki’s lips, his eyes slowly moving from you to his wardrobe. The top drawer, the one you can’t reach, the one he’s told you is nothing more than a coin holder… It has the amnestics. He blinks a few times, heavily walking over to the bed and plopping down on it. “C’mere, I’ll explain it to you,” he says, patting the space beside him.

You hesitantly stand, hand resting in his.

Kondraki rests his arm around you, pulling you into his side as he begins to weave to you the tale of everything you should have never known. Like the first humans in the garden, you were tempted by the snake and ate of the fruit that should have not been eaten. Knowledge is your damnation.

It’s exhausting, entirely exhausting. The weight of all this knowledge - you can’t help but lay back on the bed and listen to Kondraki’s heart, your eyes feeling heavier and heavier.

“Are you tired?” He asks softly, his nose buried into your hair.

You nod ever so slightly.

“Why don’t you get some sleep?”

You feel tears welling in your eyes as Kondraki’s grip around you tightens. “Are you going to be here when I wake up?”

He hums deeply, lips peppering kisses to the crown of your head. “Of course I will.”

“You promise?”

A slightly prick snaps at the base of your skull.

“Yeah baby, I promise.”

You wake up the next morning with tired eyes and a heavy body. You yawn, stretch, and crack your back, eyes narrowing at the sound. Crisp. With another small yawn, you sit up and look out your window, pleased to see that there’s little to no traffic outside. You wonder if you’ll see Sophie soon. Her fathers would be pleased to have the day off, after all. You reach over for your phone.

10 AM on a Saturday? You briefly panic, wondering if you’re missed any baby sitting appointment with your favorite gal when you see a text from Dylan.

Philip: hey sugar cube, Dylan’s mother cancelled the visit for this weekend. Won’t be needing to watch Sophie this weekend. Have a good one

Came in at 7 AM. You let out a breathy sigh before falling back onto your bed. Thank goodness, you would’ve felt awful for leaving them hanging! You sit back up again, thankful you can spend a Saturday to yourself.

Has work really been that hard? Blank spaces begin to make themselves known in the back of your head, a mosaic that you can’t quite place together, but it’s not blatant. Why would it matter?

You brush off the strange, bubbling thoughts before swinging your legs over the bed, sleepily heading to your kitchen. Same tiny apartment, same shitty walls. You run your fingers over your scalp before finally entering your kitchen. Why does it feel so… strange? You blink the feeling back.

There, on the countertop, is a cup of your favorite breakfast drink. It’s resting on top of a slip of paper in a handwriting that feels so familiar, yet hazy.

You try to bite back the horror that someone was in your apartment when you were asleep but shakily reach out to the note anyways, not realizing that your eyes are beginning to water as a response.

‘Nice to see you’re up, Reader. Always were a late riser. Look, I’m not supposed to be writing this to you, not after what happened, but I know you’re going to be confused to hell and back. Our use of ‘medicine’ can only go so far, and you’re bound to go spotty now, and a few months from now. You’re going to be confused, and you’re going to feel things that you aren’t supposed to because at one point, you really did feel them. When that happens, I need you to call this number - XXX-XXX-XXXX.

You’re really confused now, huh? Wouldn’t expect anything less, you never should’ve found out about this in the first place.

I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. For failing to protect you, for taking away so much and not even being allowed to tell you what it is I’ve taken away. Perhaps if that day had gone differently, if I didn’t spend that time talking to her, I would’ve made it back in time to stop you.

You deserve better than this, truly. I wish I could have been that for you, and I’m so, so sorry that it had to come to this. Our protocol is strict, and I couldn’t bear to put you through what I’ve-... Some things are better left unwritten, but just know that it was better this than putting you through what we’d call hell on earth.

I’ve never broken a promise to you, not in the four wonderful years I’ve known you and the three I’ve loved you. I’ve managed to keep them all, but I fear this is the first I will break.

Call the number when things get weird, maybe we'll meet again.

With all my love, Kondraki.’

#benjamin kondraki #dr kondraki #dr kondraki x reader #dr kondraki scp #dr kondraki headcanon #scp #secure contain protect #scp x reader #scp headcanon #scp benjamin kondraki #scp foundation #kondraki

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kithtaehyung · 3 years

Text

Room 3 | PJM

summary: it’s just another normal day for you at the wellness center until it suddenly isn’t. note: standalone for now! part 2 is semi-written but no solid plans atm. note 2 (june 7th, 2021): this will be revamped in the future! i really enjoyed this premise so i won’t get rid of it completely. pairing: idol!jimin x massage therapist!reader genre: fluff word count: 9,188

Thirteen.

The sidewalk underneath your feet has thirteen cracks in the little square you stand in. Sliding a small rock into one of them provides you with something to do until you hear the squeaking, screeching brakes of a bus struggling to a stop in front of you.

You adjust the strap on your shoulder as the doors open with a hydraulic hiss, and you give the driver a small smile before finding a place to stand. There aren’t many people commuting today, so it’s a pleasant surprise that you get to sit down for a change.

It was just another day in your life. You got up this morning and did your routine, listened to your wake up music on repeat, and checked that you had your wallet, phone, keys, and earphones before heading down to the bus stop. The very same earphones are still on as you now have your library on shuffle, and you hum along to the “na na na’s” of the current tune.

Living in Seoul for about a year now, you were pretty settled in. The people were accommodating, the quality of life was much better than where you were before, and you felt like you could live here for the rest of your days. It was insanely tough at first, but the initial culture shock and feeling of loneliness lessened as you made friends and befriended coworkers. You don’t have many people close to you here, but you can count on the ones that are.

You turn your head to gaze out the windows. Shimmering glass buildings tower over you, shops and street signs whiz by, and people look like they’re walking in slow motion as you follow them with your eyes. Blips of pastels and bold colors mingle together and you look down to observe your own monochrome uniform. For the place you worked at, you didn’t expect the clothes to look luxurious, but they’re actually designed very well. And they’re soft.

That’s enough for you.

Your stop is next, so you hook your arm around the nearest pole to prep. The steel has a coldness that seeps into your sleeve, but your only thought is wondering what you should eat for lunch.

Why do you feel so tense?

The sign right above you emits a sense of relaxation, but there’s a tightness in your shoulders. Odd. You lock your phone with one hand and grip the strap of your pack with the other before taking a deep breath. You count down from three before letting it out.

The hiss of your exhale mingles with the standard sounds of the city, and you concentrate on the flow of life both inside your body and the environment around you. You did this often when you felt out of place, and it served to recalibrate you and your thoughts. Storing your phone away, you make your way inside the frosted glass doors.

Working at one of Seoul’s prestigious wellness centers was definitely something you were proud of. If there was one thing you’ve wanted for years, it was for a way for you to massage yourself. Everyone seemed to love your massages, but no one knew how to massage you. That is, until you came here. You’ve never experienced people knowing exactly where you were hurting and effectively working out all of those kinks during one session. It was magical.

What is even more magical is the fact that you joined the ranks of those same angels from above. You love them, and they love you.

“Good morning! I hate you!”

Well.

“Morning, Yoon,” you respond lowly as you take your earphones out and store them. “Love you, too.” As you walk around front reception, Yoon smiles at you and comments,

“No, really, I think you legitimately repulse me now.”

You shoot her a look of pure terror. “What the hell did I do?”

“Nothing,” she sighs, dropping her eyes to the papers in front of her.

In a state of panic, your mind speeds through any events that happened since the last time you saw her. Did you accidentally ignore her once? Look at her funny? Yoon was big on body language.

You didn’t realize you were still staring at her until she tapped the glass counter between you two. “Hey, I’m sorry. I know you’re nervous. I just thought jokes would help.”

What?

“I’m not nervous, just tense for some reason. Although, you definitely made it worse,” you admit, “I might need to take a longer break today and somehow get Jay to rub my shoulders. Maybe I can bribe him with samgy--”

“--Uhh, forget him; have you even checked your client list for this week? I’ll do anything if you switch your schedule with me.”

Double-what?

“Okay, now you’re just being weird,” you chuckle, “But also, no, I haven’t checked yet. It’s Monday!”

In a sing-song manner, Yoon warns, “You better check your schedule before I snatch it...”

You laugh again and wave her off, but her words only mess with your head. As you make your way to the back room, you fidget and check your phone for any notifications you missed between when you exited the bus and now. You don’t know what you expected: still nothing.

As if you feel the weight of eyes on you, you glance up and notice some people are giving you looks.

What in the hell is going on? It’s 7am on a Monday and therefore way too early for people to be this upset with you. Yoon may have said she was joking, but by the looks of everyone else...

A hand claps onto your shoulder, causing you to yelp and feel like you rocket right into the ceiling. Only the hearty laugh beside you clues you in on who you were getting revenge on later.

“Geez, someone’s not looking forward to today.”

“You better sleep with one eye open tonight, Jay,” you seeth, hands rubbing your temples as you struggle to steady your heart rate. “Also, what’s so special about today? Yoon was being strange just a second ago, too.”

Your coworker looks at you like you have seven heads. “Okay, first off: if I had the amount of adrenaline in your body right now, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at all. And second: you didn’t check your schedule yet?”

They didn’t know it, but they were going to be the death of you.

“No, I ha--It’s a Mon--you know what, I’m going to check now; you guys are killing me.” You leave Jay in a rush and race to the employee lounge. The anxiousness in your chest is bubbling over.

Jay’s on your heels, whispering loudly, “I can spoil it right now if you want!”

You respond in a low voice, “Don’t you have a client to see?”

“Nope!”

You round the corner and see the back room door is already open, so you power through and head straight for the docking table on the other side. Everyone working here has a personal tablet, and you unplug yours from the charging port. Pressing through the menus as quickly as the tablet allows, you feel a thin layer of sweat on your skin. Touch ID. Login. Main Menu. Scheduling. Weekly Outlook. Confidentiality Prompt.

Shit.

Confidentiality Prompts are for the therapists that have huge clients scheduled. They’re put in place for celebrities and business executives to have guaranteed privacy.

With a start, you wonder why the hell Yoon wanted your schedule. Everyone here is wary of high-profile people. It’s a whole different experience since they basically hold your life in their hands in each session. You recall a horror story that happened when you first started working there, and still don’t know where that employee ended up.

Your only problem is that you’ve never had to deal with this before. Jay, Yoon, and a bunch of the veterans have, but this is going to be your first.

“Damn, yours is longer than mine was,” Jay observes before you squeeze your tablet to your chest. “That looks intense.”

“Umm, snoopy much?” You shift your body away from him and speed read through the very long, very wordy window. When you hit Accept, another window pops up that you have to read through. This one is even more fine print. You suddenly realize something and dart your eyes up. “Wait, you got one, too?”

Jay nods and looks away, and he actually looks nervous. “Yeah, we all got them this time.”

Now that is alarming. This client must be something else.

Window after window comes up and you wonder if you should probably read these in earnest. It’s starting to genuinely scare you.

If this is that big of a deal…

You banish that thought from your mind as soon as it appears. Elephants would have to fall from the sky before you believe someone from that group is booking you here.

You hit Accept before you realize you didn’t actually read and instead mindlessly scrolled through the prompts. As the screen buffers, you bite your lip.

The screen goes back to normal and presents your schedule for today. Your coworkers are living their normal lives, putting their stuff in their lockers and getting materials ready for various sessions. Jay is being completely normal as he can’t stop laughing at your expression.

And your life is anything but normal anymore because elephants are dropping from the clouds and the words Monday, 8am, Park Jimin are staring you right in the face.

“You mean to tell me that you cleared your morning schedule just to see my reaction?”

Jay laughs in earnest. “Yes, and it was so worth it.”

You are failing to stop bouncing your leg as you wait at one of the tables in the employee lounge. There’s a cup of coffee in front of you, but you already know you aren’t going to drink a drop of it. You are about to be in close quarters with the equivalent of a royal family member, so coffee breath is out of the question.

Suddenly self-conscious, you ask, “Do you have a toothbrush I can borrow?”

“I actually do. Let me grab it.”

As your friend gets up, you scrutinize the table in front of you to avoid peoples’ lingering stares. How everyone somehow knew your upcoming client before you did was a mystery, but you don’t really care enough at the moment to find out.

Jay hands you what you asked for and you thank him before heading to the bathroom to freshen up. After you brush your teeth like a madman, you check your face for discrepancies and sigh at your choice of almost no makeup today.

You can’t help but wonder if the thirteen cracks in the sidewalk are laughing at you at this very moment.

Checking your smart watch, you realize you have either the longest or shortest 30 minutes of your life left before your appointment with Jimin.

You huff out a laugh at how ridiculous that sounds. You refuse to believe this is real until you physically see him in the room. Confidentiality forms or not, the name Park Jimin or not, you still can’t wrap your head around the situation.

Speaking of the forms, you assume that they were printed out for company records as soon as you submitted yours to sign. You decide to head back to the front desk after throwing Jay his spare toothbrush, to which he responds with pure disgust.

It was like Yoon was waiting for you because as soon as you open the glass doors, she’s hounding you, “So what did you do in a past life? Did you save an emperor? Rescue a prophet?”

“I don’t know about a past life, but I did save a turtle when I was five.” You tap your fingers on the reception desk and stare at the orchids on the counter. “Or at least I thought I did. I probably just made his life harder. Can I see a copy of the forms I signed?”

“I’m gonna go with the saved prophet. Which one was it?”

“Yoon,” you beg, desperate as you glance at the abstract clock above her and see that you have 20 minutes left. A mere 20 minutes until he is supposed to arrive to check-in.

“Okay, okay! Hold on,” she chuckles and rolls her chair away from you and towards the printer. “By the way, if I wasn’t the one checking him in, I would’ve hijacked your entire day already.”

Her words are garbled since you are laser-focused on rubbing an orchid petal between your fingers. Its soft and supple touch is calming you, and just for a second, you are able to clear your thoughts.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when Yoon hands you the forms. The paper is still warm as you thank her and head towards the doors.

“Oh, wait,” Yoon calls behind you, and you turn to see her grabbing another small stack of papers. When she extends them over the counter, she explains, “I was waiting until you saw your schedule to hand these over. Read through them carefully.”

“Thanks,” you whisper, even more anxious than before.

Your heart jumps into your throat when you see what Yoon handed over. You don’t even remember the walk to the back lounge and to one of the secluded tables; all you can focus on are the papers in front of you. They look like they were written on and scanned before being sent over to the wellness center.

It’s Jimin’s handwriting.

You’ve seen his penmanship before. There is no mistaking the neat, determined strokes. Even the way he checked the boxes and circled the pain points on diagrams proves very... well, him. Any other uncertainty dissolves after you see his birthday filled in, as well.

This is really happening.

You gently slam the papers on the table and hunch over to commit the information to memory. Months and months of schooling have sharpened this ability of yours, and you are determined to imagine this as just another client you have to memorize.

Light to medium pressure. Avoid anything above light pressure around the spinal area and lower back. Shoulders, calves, and feet are pain points. Facial area priority.

A trip to the countryside right at this very moment sounds like a fantastic idea.

Jay plops into the seat in front of you, and that thought bubble bursts. “This color on your face suits you. Reminds me of what’s-his-name, Edward.”

“How much time do I have,” you question, not even acknowledging him.

“Seven minutes.”

“Of course,” you mutter before standing, the irony not lost on you. “I’ll go prep now.”

You don’t see Jay waving you off. “If you survive, I’ll see you on the other side!”

A laugh escapes you. Personally, your only goal is to make it through five minutes. If you pass away after that, you would have no regrets.

You stand behind the reception doors with your tablet to your chest, staring at the wall across the way. The subtle wallpaper pattern is a great choice for this place, you decide.

Indescribable anxiousness and fear aside, you have a job to do. As long as you keep your outside actions professional, your inner turmoil can be whatever the hell it wants. You’ve been in this profession long enough and you know you’re ready to do this. You’ve seen the whole spectrum of human emotion in this line of work. No matter how well of a job you do, there are still people that are never happy. As long as you focus on keeping the client’s wellness and health in mind, you keep your consciousness clear.

Then again, you haven’t had to deal with a client like Park Jimin before, let alone a high executive or well-known actress.

A muffled “Good morning and welcome” reaches your ears and you push yourself off the wall. The frosted glass only allows you to see so much, but you can make out a few guys standing in the front area. Two are taller and only wearing dark clothes, and the other is a bit shorter. The latter is looking to be wearing a beanie, light colored top, and dark pants.

You can’t hear anyone talking other than Yoon, but suddenly the shorter one makes his way to your doors.

It’s him. You’re absolutely sure.

Steeling your resolve, you pull your side open. With a smile, you look straight at your client’s sunglasses-and-mask-clad face and greet him just like you would anyone else, “Good morning and welcome. Am I speaking to Mr. Park?”

He stills for a second before he nods.

“Nice to meet you. We’ll be in Room 3.”

Jimin bows to you slightly and whispers a thank you, and you follow him to your room. Your heart is rattling nonstop as you note the height difference between the two of you. It isn’t as bad as you thought it was.

The door to Room 3 is already open, and when Jimin enters you stop at the entrance.

You lied earlier. None of this feels real. He’s physically in the room, and you still don’t think this is happening.

You let Jimin put his bag down on the corner chair before gliding into the formal greeting, “Since this is our first session, please let me know if there’s anything you need. I did go over your forms, but if there was something that wasn’t specified, feel free to ask. I want to make sure all of your needs are met today.”

“Your name?”

You falter. “What?” Did he just...

Jimin takes off his sunglasses, and you feel all oxygen leave your body. He’s still wearing a mask, but you can see that his eyes are creased just a tad. “It wasn’t specified on the forms. Your name?”

A part of you just chalks this up to being standard Jimin behavior, but the other part of you wonders if he really didn’t know whom he was getting a massage from. Did Yoon not tell him? Check-in is supposed to confirm your specialist.

You also note that his voice is infinitely softer in person. TV and recordings did not do this man justice.

Keeping it professional is all you must do. You tell him your name, apologizing for not introducing yourself already. It’s also on your tablet, so you show him while you talk.

Jimin leans forward to read it and smiles again. “Ah. Pretty.”

Are your five minutes up? Can you pass away now? He’s a mere six feet away from you but it feels like his presence is engulfing you.

All that escapes you is a tiny thank you. “So, mhm,” you clear your throat and yell at yourself to get it together, “Go ahead and undress down to your comfort level and lie down on the bed with the sheet on top of you. That remote there is connected to my tablet, so just take it off the charger and bring it to the bed. You can press the green button whenever you’re ready.”

Jimin looks towards the console table next to him and sees the white remote. It’s docked in a sleek charging port and stands out against the light wood. He nods, and you give him one last smile before reaching out and closing the door.

The only words your brain can process at the moment are not work appropriate, so you just go on autopilot to the employee lounge. You expected Jay or even Yoon to be chomping at your heels as soon as you left Jimin by himself, but neither of them are around. That was completely fine: employees aren’t allowed to divulge anything that goes on in client sessions unless it’s dangerous to either of you.

You help yourself to a cup of water and down it before pouring another. The fruit flavor for today is strawberry, and you watch the fruit and ice swirl around as you stir the big glass container. There are pastries and assorted breakfast foods calling your name in the clear cabinet next to you, but you refuse. Your adrenaline is hindering your appetite.

People are still giving you daggers for stares, but after seeing Jimin in person you really can’t blame them. Even when you couldn’t even see his face, you felt his presence. His aura filled up that entire room and he only spoke around ten words. It would be a lie to say that you aren’t intimidated. You can already count the number of times you almost bolted out of the room on two hands. But you made yourself proud: as long as you keep your outer actions calm, you can get through this. Your voice was fairly level for someone whose heart was bouncing out of their ribcage. In the end, you want to make him feel comfortable and safe. Emotions cannot exist right now.

Self-deprecation comes into play as you wonder if this is a huge mistake and if Jimin is already out the door to find a better therapist.

Oh, well. At least he said your name was pretty.

Your doubts are casted aside as your tablet dings.

Jimin’s ready for you.

When you enter the room, you can see that your client followed your instructions completely. You glance at the corner chair and see that he even folded his clothes and set his jewelry neatly on the thin, long table. Since Jimin can’t see you from his position, you allow a warm smile to grace your features.

You close the door as softly as you can. The way the room is designed, the clients lie down so that their head is opposite the doorway. It takes you a few steps until you reach the head of the bed. You gingerly take the remote from where Jimin placed it next to his neck and turn around to redock it, and start to dim the lights with your tablet. Per standard, you ask, “Mr. Park, is this okay, or would you like the lights lower?”

His voice is projecting straight towards the floor, but it still sounds so light, “This is good, but please, call me Jimin.”

That’s definitely not what you expected, but you are touched. You nod before realizing that he still can’t see you. “Do you have a music preference for today?”

“Whatever you prefer is fine.”

Jimin is being so agreeable that your nerves start to dissipate. You were expecting him to at least be a little particular at some things, but he is being really easy to work with. The atmosphere starts to feel safe enough for you to joke, “Well, it does depend on my mood, so for now I’ll play Standard Spa Chord Progression, No. 5 instead of No. 3.”

The small chuckle you hear melts your heart. “Ah, is that the one with the harp?”

“No, that’s Spa Concerto, No. 4. We don’t have that one in our library, but I think it’s terrible anyways.”

Jimin’s head lifts from the table in an earnest laugh, and you can’t help but laugh with him. It’s infectious.

You select a random song on your tablet, and you weren’t lying when you said it was standard. The song is less of a song and more like a bunch of reverberating chords in slow succession. That’s one thing you noticed about this place: modern tech but very outdated music. Get with the times! At least have some nice piano covers to choose from.

“Not having Spa Concerto, No. 4 may be a deal-breaker for me,” Jimin comments, a hint of a smile in his voice.

You’re still tapping on your tablet to get to his file, and you make your way back to the door. There’s a clear slot on each room’s door to hold employee tablets, and as soon as you store yours, you can finally start. “I don’t blame you, even though I think it’s awful, that one still topped the char--Oh, shit!”

You aren’t watching where you’re going, so you don’t see the shoes in your path. It’s so dim in the room and his shoes match the floor color but none of that matters because right now you are falling and you are falling fast. Your first instinct is to grab the table, but that would risk pulling the blanket off of Jimin and you would rather die than do that to him.

So, floor it is.

Your hand not holding the tablet breaks some of the fall, but your face definitely makes contact with the ground. You can feel the slight burn on your nose and hand, and a sharp lingering pain follows.

Okay, now can you pass away. Someone from the heavens can come claim you now.

Drowning in shame, you don’t help yourself off the floor right away. Not only were you breaking your rule and joking around, you also weren’t paying attention and now possibly ruined Park Jimin’s shoes.

You’ll look up good resigning practices later tonight. You have enough money saved up to make it a couple months without a job, you reckon.

When you finally lift yourself off the floor, you turn around and see Jimin pushed up on the table. His whole upper body is bare and twisted towards you, and this is the first time you see his entire face. It’s more beautiful in person, you conclude, even though it conveys nothing but concern right now. “Are you okay?”

You nod furiously and stand up completely. Your voice is shaky as you apologize, “I am so sorry. One moment.” Before checking yourself, you check your personal tablet. To say it was worth more than you isn’t that far of a reach. No scratches, though. Praise be.

“Don’t apologize… Did you trip on my shoes?”

Embarrassment washes over you as you nod, not looking at Jimin. Placing your tablet gingerly on the console table, you dust your uniform down and inspect your hands and feel your nose. Luckily, there’s no blood, only slight rug burns. If there was blood, you would have to postpone the appointment until you effectively sanitized. With what you have, you just need to go wash up.

Jimin is still watching you intently, which makes your face burn even more. What a mess. He’s probably second-guessing this whole thing.

You bow, feeling tears at the corners of your eyes. “Mr. Park, I am so sorry.”

“Jimin.”

“I’ll just need to clean my hands and then I promise we will start as soon as I get back. I know your time is valuable so I’ll make up for the minutes we lost.”

“I… Okay. Thank you.”

You make your way out of the room, still courteous enough to shut the door quietly. Rushing to the nearest sink, a small sob leaves your throat as you wring your hands under the water. Life is kind to you at this moment because no one is around. You would never live it down if someone saw you coming out of Jimin’s room crying.

After splashing water on your face and drying it, you take out a cotton pad from one of the glass containers on the counter. You press it onto your eyes, decreasing the evidence of your current state.

So much for making Jimin feel safe and comfortable. You’ve only made it awkward.

With a deep breath, you enter the room.

Jimin turns his head and puts it in the crook of his arm to look back at you. “Are you sure you’re okay? I’m sorry I couldn’t help you…”

You go over to his shoes and move them under the chair, wincing when you see visible tears on them. Guess you’re withdrawing a chunk of your savings to pay Park Jimin for damages.

“I assure you, I’m fine,” you state firmly, but soften, “But I’m really sorry about the shoes; I may have torn them. I can pay you back.”

You hear sheets shuffling, and when you face him, Jimin’s fully on one elbow and turned towards you. “No, please, don’t worry about those. I should’ve put them out of the way. I feel bad.”

“It’s definitely my fault,” you countered, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Jimin uses your name, which stops you in your tracks. “Everything’s okay, I promise.”

You should feel many different things, like pride in getting to see this man in person, or happiness from him actually addressing you by name. But all you can think about in this moment is how disappointing you’ve been to another human being, and you sigh.

You nod, but still plan to pay him back. You know enough about designer brands to know those aren’t cheap, and they’re shoes you’ve seen him wearing a lot in photos.

“It’s okay to lie back down,” you say softly, unmoving.

Jimin searches your face one more time before settling back face-down on the table.

It’s a normal day at work, you tell yourself. Go through your routine.

Launching yourself into action, you move to the far end of the console table. Grabbing a bottle you’ve clutched so many times before that its label is wearing down, you uncap it and oil your hands and wrists. You also unstopper a bottle of lavender oil and pour a few drops into the nearby bamboo diffuser and start it.

You make your way to the head of the table and grab a rolling stool from a corner of the room. The wheels on your chair don’t make any noise, which you fixed up yourself. This day isn’t any different - it’s still silently gliding on the carpet. Plopping your devastated self onto the cushion, you scoot towards Jimin’s head. You’re about to place your hands onto his bare shoulders to start, but you whisper,

“It’s also okay if you want to cancel and reschedule with someone else, Mister--Um, Jimin.”

You can’t believe you just gave Park Jimin a way out of a whole 60 minutes with you. Where did this conviction and restraint come from? Is this going to be the regret of your entire lifetime?

After a long silence, Jimin answers with his face in the headrest, “If you call me Mister Jimin again, then I will.”

You huff out a laugh at his unexpected answer, and your shoulders finally relax. It seems like he’s still fine after everything that’s happened, and you thank any deity you can think of for this second chance.

Light to medium pressure. Avoid anything above light pressure around the spinal area and lower back. Shoulders, calves, and feet are pain points. Facial area priority.

You aren’t a fan of light pressure, but you understand why people prefer it. Not everyone can handle the deep tissue or harder pressure massages.

Jimin’s shoulders are incredibly tense, though, so you feel bad that you’re limited in what you can do. You allow some medium pressure to the worst spots, and when you approach the insides of his shoulder blades you lessen the intensity.

Gliding your fingers back to the ridge between his neck and shoulders, you feel that his right is still tight. You use your left elbow to work that knot, careful to press even lighter than you would with your hands.

Jimin grunts, and you still. “Is that too much?”

“No, I like that.”

You keep that in mind as your hands travel over the rest of his upper back area. From time to time, you reapply the oil to allow for less friction. It lets your fingers slide deftly across muscles and quickly work any troublesome areas, which Jimin has a lot of.

It makes sense: you can’t even imagine the amount of pressure all of the boys were constantly dealing with. There was a lull in their activity recently, so you knew something was in the works. Between recording songs, shooting music videos, fulfilling their brand contracts, and whatever else they do, you’re surprised you don’t feel more knots under Jimin’s skin.

The soft chords of the next song float around the room, and you lose yourself in your movements. You can’t see his face, which makes it a lot easier. You worked through his whole upper body, neck, and upper arms area so naturally that you were admiring his wrist tattoo before remembering who you were massaging.

For the seven hundredth time that day, you cannot believe this is happening. You really hope Jimin does feel safe here despite your whirlwind of thoughts. Have you kept it professional enough? Neutral enough? He seemed to be fine with your joking earlier, and he didn’t seem upset about the shoes in the least.

But still… Maybe he was just tolerating you because it’s the same situation for him, different place and day. Putting yourself in his shoes, you would feel pity for you trying your best to accommodate him. The pressure over everyone everywhere you go had to be exhausting. It couldn’t ever be normal.

Your shoulders suddenly slump under the weight of what you feel for him.

And Jimin seems to notice. “Really, it’s okay about the shoes. Those were getting pretty worn anyways.”

You still. Of course he thought you were still fussing over the shoes and not over his life. His unending consideration was like a burning hearth: it made you feel so warm.

“Okay,” you respond softly, “I understand.”

“Good. If you worry about them again, I’m walking out barefoot,” Jimin says sternly, even though you know he’s kidding. “And don’t test me, I’ve done it before.”

Your words leave you before you think. “I don’t believe you.”

“Oh?”

Jimin puts his hands on the table and you yelp, “Okay, okay, stop!”

He laughs and plops his arms back down flat. You lament as you still can see how his muscles bulge in your mind.

You shake your head and sigh before rolling to his left and softly taking his arm. His skin is so soft you don’t even need the oil, you notice. You work his forearm before moving down to his wrist and fingers. Thinking about Jimin’s threat, you are pretty curious. “Be honest: did that really happen?”

“It didn’t,” he responds immediately, “But I thought about it once. My shoes were killing my feet so I thought about walking without them until I found a shoe store.”

It sounds so childish to you that you chuckle. “Where was this,” you ask, completely intrigued now.

“Ah, I honestly can’t remember. I think somewhere in Europe.”

“...Did you just pick an entire continent because you couldn’t remember?”

“...There’s seven continents and one of them is Antarctica! Picking one out of six is easy.”

This man is something else. You finally finish off his right side, and you gingerly set his arm down on the table. With a mental pat on the back, you get ready for the next part of the routine. In your softest therapist voice, you instruct, “Okay, go ahead and turn over and slide down until your head is on the table.”

Jimin obeys right away, shifting over and moving down. The white sheet slips down his body a bit, and you diligently pull it up until it’s covering everything up to his neck. During this, you feel rather than see his eyes on you, so you don’t dare yourself to look.

You go back to your plethora of containers to re-oil, and roll your chair to the foot of the table. All that time, Jimin thankfully has his eyes closed.

You were equal parts dreading and looking forward to this part of the massage since his face was going to be visible. This way, you can’t escape the reality of the situation.

But you decided to follow the flow of the conversation. You learned the subtle nuances of human communication throughout your experiences: when people wanted to talk or stay quiet, if they were liking the conversation or not, etc. Jimin seems to be fine with talking despite your assumption that he was going to be quiet for the most part. It has definitely made this easier for you, though.

“I want to visit all seven continents one day,” you decide to admit.

“I do, too,” Jimin responds, eyes still closed. “How many do you have left?”

You start on his feet, working along the smooth skin.

“Uhh, well,” you whisper, “A good chunk. I’ve only been here and back where I’m from, and I just moved here around a year ago.”

After you tell Jimin where you were before, he sounds amazed, “You seem like you’ve lived here for so long. I wouldn’t have guessed.”

He’s definitely being nice. You are just now getting decent at the language and customs, but there is still a lot you have to learn.

“But, I do want to start traveling again for a specific reason,” you divulge, sighing to yourself as you think yet again about your lofty dreams.

“Which reason is that,” Jimin asks, and you somehow know his eyes are open now.

Your own eyes betray you as you connect your gaze with his. “I want to experience different techniques in person.” You don’t know he can feel the fire behind your eyes. “There’s no better teacher than experience, at least to me. I know I’m good at what I do currently, but there’s so much out there that I want to learn and get better at.”

You debate whether to keep going or not. Jimin’s eyes are alight with curiosity, so you take that as your cue. It’s surreal that you get to talk about your dream with him of all people, so you strive to make it count. “Take music, for example: everyone agrees that music is healing, therapeutic. But, there’s so many genres, so many ways to create it. I see massage as the same way: therapeutic, but many different ways to make people feel better.”

Jimin is silent as he tears his gaze from you to look at the ceiling. You concentrate on his ankles, working them as delicately but effectively as you can. A part of you wants to keep talking, but you don’t want to push it. You may have said too much as it is.

The next song has soft chimes to accompany the rippling chords. Lavender wafts through the air and quells your nerves. You continue to Jimin’s lower legs and glide your fingers along the flow of his muscles. When you feel a break or disturbance, you stop and tend to it until you feel it’s balanced. After his lower legs are done, you move on to his thighs. You feel tightness all over, and you apply medium pressure to these areas because of how much muscle they contain.

Jimin’s legs are a work of art on the outside, but so chaotic on the inside. The chakra highways are disjointed, and you have worked through so many kinks in the roads. If you imagine yourself as someone walking down a path, you are stopping every 10 steps to smooth over a pothole or breakdown a hill in the way. You can’t see how this person can even walk, let alone perform on stage like this. All of them never cease to amaze you.

“Where would you start?”

Jimin’s sudden inquiry throws you. You swear he was silent for a good ten minutes. “What?”

His eyes are glued to the ceiling still. “Which places do you want to visit? Like, where would you go to learn?”

“Well…” You are almost too stunned to speak. He has been thinking about what you said this whole time? Aren’t there plenty of more important things he needs to be thinking about right now? “There’s this technique called amma that originates in Japan, and there’s an American technique called esalen that I want to learn, too. I think that one is from California.”

On a high from Park Jimin’s interest in your life, you ramble about a few more, your voice getting more animated the more you talk about different things. It can’t be helped; you’ve been passionate about traveling and learning for so long. You’ve just never been able to really try it since money was part of the equation. Or more so out of the equation. In addition, you didn’t really get to talk about it with anybody. No one’s actually asked. But somehow, Jimin did.

When you realize you actually stopped massaging his thigh, you look up in horror to apologize, “Oh, I am so sorry - I didn’t mean to stop.”

Jimin’s head is turned to the side, his hair falling into his eyes. The smile gracing his face is soft. “It’s okay,” he assures you, “I feel much better already anyways.”

Your cheeks flush before he even stops talking. “That’s good,” you whisper, “We’re almost done so I would hope so.”

“What!” Jimin’s eyes dart to the clock on the table. It’s already 8:50am.

That saddens you a lot more than it should.

“On second thought: I feel tense in my hand, I think you need to go back and redo it. Here.” He’s extending his right hand towards you as if to shake hands, and you laugh.

“Nice try, Jimin,” you say, “But I do need to work on your face for the last part. Close your eyes for me, please.”

He stares at you for a second before obeying. The smile from earlier makes a return.

You roll your chair back to the head of the bed and plop down. Jimin’s face is angelic even upside-down, and you pray to the heavens that you massage it perfectly.

When you start, you quip, “See? You’re so happy we’re almost done.”

“No, no!” Jimin laughs. “That’s not it. You just called me Jimin - it was nice.”

“Oh.” You swear steam is billowing from your head. How can he affect you so intensely? And how were you keeping yourself together?

With the resolve of a thousand emperors, maybe including one you probably did save in a past life, you steady your hands on his temples. Rubbing in delicate circles, you start the last segment.

Face massages are your favorite. Even the smallest movements are invigorating, and you feel very refreshed after one.

“When I come back, Spa Concerto, No. 4 better be available.”

You smile. There’s no way Jimin will be back, but you appreciate his friendly nature.

“It’s not even all that great, but I’ll let them know,” you play along. “I’m more of a piano person, though. There’s a lot of piano covers saved in my phone that are way better.”

Jimin’s eyes flash open at the same time he proclaims, “Ah, I love piano covers! Especially on rainy days.”

“Mm,” you hum in agreement, “I can listen to those all the time.”

Your heart drops like a stone as you glance at the clock and see your time is up. The hour absolutely flew by. Dropping your eyes back onto Jimin’s face, you take your hands off his cheeks and say, “Okay, that’s the end of our session today.” You get up to dry your hands and lower arms with a cloth while going over the last steps, “I’ll leave you to get dressed, and I’ll come back to the room to give you water and some stretch and wellness recommendations moving forward. Just press the green button on the remote when you’re ready, like last time.”

When you turn back to him, Jimin’s fully propped up with his hands behind him. The blanket over him is draped across his body, just enough to cover his ribs. He’s smiling right at you as he speaks, “Thank you. You’re really good.”

You bow in thanks, face lighting up like wildfire. “You were great, too,” you comment in return, immediately cringing inside. “I’ll be back when you’re ready for me.”

Right after you leave clients is when you start filling out their evaluation and wellness recommendations on your tablet. You just worked on them, so the memories are fresh. The forms are a mix of multiple choice and fill-in, and you recommend some specific stretches and deeper pressure for Jimin.

This time, Jay is in the employee lounge when you come in to wait. His legs uncross and he pops up from one of the modern loveseats that are just as firm as they look. “She’s alive!”

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the flush in your cheeks. “I’m here, but barely,” you chuckle, your tablet dangling in your hand by your side, “I still can’t believe that actually happened.”

Jay leans in so that no one can hear what he has to say, which makes you suspicious since there’s no one around you. In a low voice, he reveals, “Yoon and I made a bet.”

“Wonderful,” you drawl, “I’m gonna walk away now.” You can already tell this is one-hundred percent not in your favor.

“No, wait!” His whisper is loud. He bounces after you to the water and food station. While you fix yourself a cup, he continues, “Yoon thinks you’ll get done with the appointment unscathed, but I think you’ll come out of it with a problem.”

Jay’s words remind you like alarm bells.

You need to pay Jimin for damages.

“Oh, shit, I need to get something,” you say in a rush, grabbing your tablet off the food station and scurrying to the locker room. In the wellness center, the employee lounge is in the back, and the locker room is in the back of the lounge. You think you still have time before Jimin is ready.

There’s a notebook you keep in your bag along with a pencil case. Tearing a sheet from the notebook, you write down what you think is a good estimate for the shoes. Before you write anything else, you pause.

You only skimmed through the confidentiality prompts, but you do remember a section about personal information. Therapists aren’t allowed to give out their personal information unless specifically asked, and there has to be solid intent behind the client asking. Jimin didn’t need to ask you for yours; he just said not to worry about it.

After a good thirty seconds of your pen lingering above the paper, your tablet chimes.

A split second decision has you crumpling the paper and chucking it in your bag. You tear out a new sheet and tuck it with the pen under your tablet as you head back to Room 3.

You get to the room with a paper cup of water you grabbed on the way, and since you have things in both hands it’s a bit difficult getting the door open. You try the handle but it only jiggles a bit. One more try has you pushing the door right as the handle gives, and it works.

Jimin goes to you immediately when he sees your hands full, and you almost reel back from having him so close. Which should be odd, since you were literally just with him for a full hour, and he was not fully clothed. In the end, his presence alone is enough to affect you no matter the situation.

You extend the cup to him and he grabs it with a small thank you.

“I filled out your evaluation and it should be printed at the front already. Make sure to drink more water after you leave,” you say with a smile, your chest heavy. This was most likely the last interaction you would ever have with him.

Jimin nods, his mask covering his smile but not his eyes. He doesn’t say anything more.

You almost leave it at that, but something in you doesn’t want this moment to end, so you take your chance. “And, umm,” you stutter as you fumble with the pen and paper. You just lay your tablet on the massage table to free your hand, and click the pen open. “How much should I pay you,” you ask, your gaze ironically on the very shoes you tripped over earlier.

Jimin sets his cup down on the console table before taking the paper and pen from your hands. You watch him write something - a price in Won most likely - as you explain, “I’m a big believer of making things right, so please let me pay for your shoes. I should’ve seen them on the ground.”

He folds the paper and hands it back to you with the pen. “If you insist. But don’t check this until you get home.”

“What, why?” Your eyes dart to his face.

Jimin stares at you before responding, “Nothing bad. It just might shock you.”

Immediately, your gaze lowers. If you tell anyone how your day went today, you would think they were weird if they believed you. If you tell anyone why you’re suddenly broke come this Wednesday, they would be lying if they just went with it. “Okay, I won’t,” you assure him, and you’re telling the truth. You are equal parts surprised and nervous that he’s allowing you to pay him back.

With a deep breath, you give Jimin your best soft smile. Your heart is hurting as you send him off, “Well, it was a pleasure. Have a great rest of your day, Jimin. Until next time.” You catch yourself in a sea of emotion as your words die on your tongue. The boys have schedules on schedules, so the likelihood of him stepping foot inside this wellness center again is minuscule at best.

If anything, you’re grateful that you get to address him by name, and you succeeded in making this as smooth and safe as possible for him. At the expense of a scraped nose and hand, but rather you than him.

Jimin hoists his bag on his shoulder, the water cup you gave him already in the trash bin. He walks right up to you and stands there, and you swear both of you can hear your heart beating. One of his hands comes up to his masked face, and he speaks softly as he advises, “Ointment will help your nose if it still hurts.”

Warmth blooms in your chest and cascades all the way to your fingertips. Mirroring him, you bring a hand up to your nose and nod. Your words tumble out, “Oh, yes, you’re right. I can check if we have any in the back.”

Satisfied, Jimin nods. “Until next time,” he offers, his eyes creased and warm.

You smile again and bow slightly. He puts on his shades before heading out the door frame and into the hall, and you feel emptiness in his wake. The world is fuzzy around your vision and you are trying so hard to commit everything that just happened to memory.

Until the doors to front reception close, you watch Jimin’s retreating back. When the frosted doors close shut, you close your own door to Room 3 and lean against the wooden frame. The scrap of paper is creased in your hand as you clutch it to your hammering chest.

“Holy shit,” you whisper to yourself. It takes a good minute for you to compose yourself before pushing off the door and getting the room stripped and ready for the next session. The whole time, you replay everything in your head.

Jimin was just as nice as you have seen him through the lens of cameras. If that was the case, all of them had to be the same way. You are proud to like these wonderful people.

You’re so happy you got to actually spend all this time with him, but that just magnifies the sadness you feel when it’s over.

The room is done and cleaned up, and you go through the rest of the day on autopilot. Not even Jay’s constant teasing could free you from your euphoria-numbed state. The only thing that throws you back into focus is Yoon, and it happens at the very end of the work day.

You push open the doors to front reception, and smile big at your friend behind the counter. She’s beaming right back at you, and she puts her chin in her hand and shakes her head.

“That must’ve been one hell of a message,” she says through a barely contained smile.

Your hand flies to your forehead and you nod. “I can’t believe that happened, Yoon. I mean, it was really him. Opportunity of a lifetime… I just hope he enjoyed the whole thing.”

“You could say that,” she chuckles, “Enough to book you again, at least.”

What?

“He did?” Your breath leaves you in a rush. “If you’re joking with me, I’ll--”

“--He did. It’s not for a long time, but he asked for you specifically.” Yoon gathers papers in her hand and starts to organize them in the containers behind her. “You really piss me off, you know that?”

“Love you, too,” you whisper, your head completely above the clouds. You grab your phone and start checking your schedule from the wellness center app you have installed. Grabbing the door handle, you absentmindedly wave back to Yoon and call out, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The sun emits a golden glow at this hour, and the glass buildings along the street bask in its shine. You head towards your bus stop while skimming your calendar for Jimin’s next appointment, but you’re already four months out and see nothing. Not losing hope, you keep going and see a booking six months in advance. Your heartbeat skips as you click on the appointment, and almost skids to a halt when you see his name written down.

As soon as you enter your small apartment, you head straight to your bed and drop your bag on the comforter. Your whole body bounces as you plop yourself down next, and you stare straight at the ceiling.

Your life is still normal, right? Sure, you were able to spend an entire hour with Park Jimin, but that didn’t mean you aren’t still completely and utterly average.

You close your eyes and go back to Room 3. The scent of lavender fills your nostrils and you can still see his number tattoo as plain as day as you massage his wrist.

In all honesty, it still feels like a fever dream. That was someone else’s life you were able to live, someone else there with Jimin and you just decided to hitch along for the ride.

But that was real, and so is the amount of money you still need to withdraw from your bank account.

With a sigh, you reach into your bag and take out the piece of paper. You were dreading this moment all day since he left. Unfolding it, you prepare for the worst.

But all you can do is stare.

Jimin didn’t write down a price at all.

Your name is at the top, and the rest is as follows:

Save your money for traveling and learning new things, not on me. I can’t wait to see what you’ve learned when we meet again.

a/n: thank you for reading! if you guys have any comments or feedback, please feel free to let me know!

#text #jimin x reader #jimin fluff #bts fics #jimin fics #room 3 jimin #room 3 #ryen writes #member: jimin #long post #grammy nominated singer fic!!#ryenwrites

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forever-rogue · 4 years

Text

Afterglow - Part 6

A/N: Honey Bee finally made the smartest decision of her life in the last chapter and now...time to deal with the fallout. Thank you guys for supporting and loving this story too! As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx 💕

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: None

AFTERGLOW MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Spitting out the toothpaste into the sink, you groaned slightly when you realized that you had left your mouthwash back on your desk. Tilting your head under the tap, you got a mouthful of water and swished it around in your mouth, trying to get the last bits of toothpaste out.

When you were satisfied with the lackluster brushing, you quickly splashed some cold water onto your face to wake yourself up. But it was no use - you still looked as tired and dragged out as you felt. There were dark circles under your eyes, your lips were chapped and cracked, and the joy you normally held in your eyes was all but gone. You had been going through the motions for the last three, feeling more like an empty shell than anything else.

But you felt liberated - free. More so than you had in a long time. That in itself made your current struggle worth it.

Grabbing your toothpaste, toothbrush, and hairbrush, you stalked out of the bathroom, ready to slink back to your office before anyone else arrived.

Looking furtively around the hall, you walked the short distance to your own office, almost making it to safety when you heard your name being called softly. Groaning inwardly, you cleared your throat and turned around, plastering on the best smile you could.

"Ally," you said softly, "y-you're here early!"

"I was just thinking the same thing," she joked, and while you could tell she meant no harm, it still caused you to panic slightly. She was well aware of you calling off your engagement, hell the whole world seemed to know, but she never seemed to pity you for it. Her eyes flicked to the items in your hands as a warmth crept into your chest and blossomed over your whole face, "I'm meeting a client early this morning because it was the only thing that fit into his schedule. Are you..."

You remained silent for a moment, hanging your head before letting out a long sigh, "look, I've just been staying here since things ended with Chad. I'm trying to find my own place, but its been a bit of a difficult go. Turns that a lot of people don't want to rent to you if you happen to have supposedly wronged Chad Williams. It seems like everyone knows him."

She reached out and gave your shoulder a soft, reassuring squeeze. Meeting her eyes, you found a small smile on her face, luckily not one of pity, "I'm sorry he's making things miserable still. I'm guessing your parents are out of the question?"

"Absolutely not an option," you admitted with a stiff laugh, "my mom seemed okay at first but she and my father quickly came to the conclusion that I was in the wrong and making a horrible mistake. They insisted I was just going through a phase because of nerves. When I told them I was sure about my decision and wasn’t going back, they all but...disowned me. Imagine the shame I’ve brought upon them in their minds...they’re so old fashioned. Maybe they’ll come around one day.”

"Yikes," she said as you nodded, "can I be honest with you?"

"Of course."

"I never liked him," she admitted softly, causing you to almost give yourself whiplash as you looked over at her, "there was just something about him that was off. I think - I know, you can do so much better."

"Thank you," you said as you laughed lightly, trying to hold the tears that threatened to well up at bay, "I hope so too."

"I mean it," she insisted, "you're kind, smart, pretty, and you've got a good heart. What more could anyone ask for?"

"Apparently a dutiful, quiet little wife..."

"Very funny," she teased, "why don't you come and stay with us? While you get your own place? We've got an extra bedroom that's not being used, and it's much better than staying here. Have you been sleeping on your hard old couch?”

"Yes..."

"Absolutely not," she shook her head, "come over when you're done for the day. We'll get the room ready for you. Anna will be happy to see you again too. And you know what, it's not an option, its a demand. Just come over tonight and we'll get you settled. I'll have Anna pick up some wine for dinner and everything."

"Ally, you're much too kind..." you said as her phone stared to ring. She looked at the screen and a big smile spread across her visage as her wife's name popped up on the screen.

"Speak of the devil," she laughed lightly, "tonight! No if, ands, or buts!"

You could only nod as she walked away, chattering excitedly as she went to her own office. Before stepping in and closing the door, she gave you a grin and wave that was enough to cause a single tear to roll down your cheek. It had been weeks since anyone had even shown you an ounce of kindness; most people had decided to scorn you instead, blaming you for everything that had happened. Wiping the warm drop away, you stepped foot into your own office, stashing your toiletries away for what you hoped would be the last time. Hopefully that everything you'd finally be able to have a proper, long, hot shower and sleep in a bed, two luxuries that you had been greatly missing.

Pulling out a dress from the small wardrobe, you slipped it on, vowing to stop your little pity party. Sure, things weren't ideal right now, but you were still so much better off than others. That was something you did not take for granted.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Men really can be the worst,” Anna laughed, almost snorting into her wine as you held up your glass in a mock salute, “can you imagine being that pathetic and trying to sabotage someone you supposedly loved? I think it speaks volumes to his character.”

“The longer we were together, the more I realized that it was never about love, even if that’s how it started out. It was always about appearances and trying to please everyone else. It was getting so tiring.”

“I can only imagine,” Ally gave her your leg a small pat as you downed the rest of your glass, “but at least you’re free now. It’s easy to fall into routine and not realize how unhappy we’ve become. We get used to just staying on one path. Usually it takes something big to make us realize what we’re doing isn’t what we wanted in the first place.”

“Okay Dr. Ally,” Anna teased her wife, “we’re not at the office. But I agree...I am curious, and happy, as to what caused you to realize that you deserve more.”

You felt the blood draining from your face almost immediately as you swallowed nervously, mouth dry. You weren’t about to delve into the memories and dreams that had been plaguing you over the weeks, becoming increasingly more frequent the closer your former wedding date had approached. Frankly, you hadn’t even admitted that to yourself yet, not out loud anyway.

How were you supposed to tell yourself, let anyone else, that the reason you realized you deserved was better because you’d been dreaming of your high school boyfriend again? It had been twenty years, twenty long years without him - there was no reason you should have even given him a second thought. Yet...here you were. Still hung up on Frankie Morales, the boy that had earned your heart...and then brought it into a million pieces. You knew, you would be the first to admit, that it wasn’t all his fault, that you were to blame to an extent as well, but it didn’t make it any easier.

Ever since the day that you had run into him again, a day that should have been like any other, he’d been living rent free in your mind. Even if you hated him, even if you were still mad at him after all this time. You couldn’t help but wonder - what if. What if.

What if he had come to California with you and you’d both stayed there? What if you had waited for him while you went to school and he was in the military? What if he’d come back to you long ago? Would you still be together? Would you be married to him? Would you have a daughter or son that took on both of your best qualities? Or would you have eventually fallen out and broken up anyway, only to loathe each with every fiber of your being? Would you have stayed together?”

What if. What if. What if.

It was that haunted you for so long now.

“Umm,” you snapped back into reality and pushed the thought of the boy you had loved out of your mind. You set the glass back down and made a small, noncommittal sound, “it was just a lot of things. The more real things became with the wedding planning the more I realized that I didn’t want this. It was at my last dress fitting actually, that I realized I couldn’t do it.”

“That must have been quite a wake up call,” Anna’s eyes widened as she imagined the scene as you nodded, taking the almost empty bottle of wine and pouring the remainder into your class.

“It was,” you admitted with a long sigh, “you should have been the poor dress maker. I almost ran out on her. But you know, even though things are far from perfect right now, I would still do it all again.”

“Cheers to that,” Ally held up her class, and the two of you clinked yours against it, “now to bigger and better things. You can, and will, do so much better.”

“Thank you both,” just being in their presence, let alone their home, had you feeling infinitely better, “I don’t even know where to begin to thank you.”

“What are friends for?”

“I, however, do have some more good news,” Anna was proud of herself as the two of your gave her an inquisitive look, “I spoke to my friend who is a realtor today, no connection to Chad or anything, and he said he has a perfect little house available! It’s a little on the outskirts of town, a small, quiet neighborhood, but that it would be perfect for you. It’s not big, just a little two bedroom, one bath, but it’s all been redone recently, and it’s quaint. He showed me some pictures and I think you’d really like it.”

“You did...you did this for me?” you felt another wave of tears sting at the back of your eyes as she nodded.

“I’m not trying to push this on you at all, or anything of the sort,” she promised, “but we were talking and it just came up and I thought of you. I thought I’d just tell you in case you were interested...you are, of course, welcome to stay with us however long you want.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” you said softly, “truly. I’d love to see the place. If you like, I’m sure it’ll be great. And honestly, it would be nice to get out of the city and be a little bit out of the way and I don’t need anything much. I just want a place that will feel like home...my own place.”

“Obviously it comes with the stipulation that we will get to help decorate and pick out furniture if you move into it.”

“I would expect nothing less,” you agreed, “it’s going to be nice getting my own things and having it be truly mine.”

“A fresh start,” she agreed, “I’ll tell Elijah that we’ll stop by tomorrow and take a look? How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” you agreed, feeling your heart finally feel warm again, as a wave of calm washed over you, “absolutely perfect.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next two weeks were a whirlwind of moving, although you technically didn’t have much to move, furniture shopping, unpacking, and organizing your new home.

The house was cute, an older little home that had been recently renovated with a small yard and a perfect spot for a garden. You could already picture yourself gardening once the cooler autumn and winter months were over.

It wasn’t huge, but it had a spare bedroom you decided would serve as a home office and occasional guest room, although you figured you weren’t going to have many of those considering how easily everyone had cut you off. It was open, warm, and inviting, and it was perfect for what you wanted. It had brought up the idea of maybe adopting a dog or cat to keep as your friend. It had made you think of something that Frankie always said: anyone who wasn’t willing to share their home with an animal was as good as heartless.

It served as a sharp contrast to your former living situation; everything in the apartment you had shared with Chad had been cold, dark, and minimalistic. Nothing about it had ever felt truly homey, more like an ornate display at an art museum you were afraid to even look at. Chad had never wanted an animal of any sorts, not even a goldfish, claiming that it would take up too much time, too much space, and he just didn’t want something to take care of.

But your new home was the polar opposite, it was romantic and airy and filled with items and trinkets that made it feel like a home. A little animal friend would fit in perfectly. You were fitting in perfectly already.

You’d even made it a point to go around the neighborhood and introduce yourself to people. Your justification was that you had literally nothing to lose, your family had turned their backs on you, your ex-fiance had taken almost all of the so called friends you’d had, and were left to your own devices. In the worst case scenario, you’d have met a few unsavory people, and in the best case scenario you’d get to know your neighbors and maybe make a few friends.

Something in the stars seemed to align, as your neighbors turned out to be kind and welcoming, and you were sure the cookies you offered them weren't a deterrent either. They were mostly either older couples, or small families, a few roommates that lived together. The normalcy of it all was endearing, and to know that you had a place that you were welcome was enough to let your heart rest easy.

The only mystery that remained was your next door neighbor, the one on your left side. Whoever it was had been missing, gone or something, since you’d moved in several weeks before. While trying to maintain a respectful distance, you’d kept an eye on the house to see if you could spy anyone coming or going, see a car...something. But you never did - not even seen so much as a porch light flicker on. It seemed odd, especially in this neighborhood.

One afternoon, in the middle of unpacking the new bits of furniture for your living room and rearranging everything for about the tenth time, curiosity got the better of you. Maybe it was because you were in the middle of watching some true crime documentaries as you worked but you just felt...nervous. You were concerned about the health and safety of this mysterious neighbor that you hadn’t even met. You’d hastily wiped the sweat from your brow before rushing over to the neighbor on the other side of the seemingly nonexistent neighbor.

Unfortunately, much to your chagrin, the other neighbor, an older widowed man by the name of Eddie, who happened to have an adorable dog that you decided you’d offer to take on walks, was just as clueless as you.

He said he’d seen the man, at least you narrowed it down to that much, come on and go on occasion, but that he kept odd hours. He commented that he must have worked evenings or something, because he wasn’t around much at that time and it was always quiet during the day. Apparently it wasn’t odd for him to be gone for days at a time, or at least for no one to notice him. At least he’d be a quiet neighbor if he ever appeared again. But the older man hadn’t seemed too concerned, so figured there was nothing to worry about. You ended finding out that he was likely around your age, with dark hair. That was about all that Eddie knew; he said the man whose name he couldn’t even remember had always kept to himself since he’d moved in a few years ago.

You’d thanked him, given the small fluffy dog a few pets and trudged back to your own place, arms filled with various baked goods, including a delicious smelling loaf of banana bread. Eddie had proudly declared that he had taken up the hobby of baking in his retirement and he always had been plenty to share. You made a mental note to store that little piece of info away for future use.

And yet still, even as more days passed, you still didn’t see hide nor hair of the mystery man. You’d gone to work each morning, wondering if maybe you just missed him and you had conflicting schedules. You didn’t know why you even cared so much, or what drew you to solving this mystery, but you were just inexplicably invested.

One evening, as you were watching some Netflix and unwinding with a glass of wine, browsing the adoptable animals at the local shelter, it hit you. It was like the proverbial lightbulb had been switched on and you came up with a brilliant idea. When you’d moved in, you’d taken some fresh, homemade cookies to everyone in the small cul-de-sac - why didn’t you just make some for him?

It was brilliant, you thought to yourself as you set the wine glass down and almost tossed your laptop to the floor in excitement. You would make your favorite cookies, soft, gooey chocolate chip ones you fancied so much, get them all safely in a container and drop them off when you felt for work in the morning. If they were gone by the time you came home that would mean he had to have been there.

Yes, you thought to yourself, this is brilliant. No one could turn down a plate of fresh cookies.

So you’d spent the rest of the evening, bouncing around the kitchen excitedly, pouring your heart and soul into the every little step it took to make the perfect treat. By the time you’d gone to bed, excited and worn out, the little package was sitting on your counter for your to grab on your way out. This was going to be it, you just knew it.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You woke up early the next morning, even before your alarm went off, a smile on your face despite being tired. You almost stopped dead in your tracks when you realized that this was the first, the first time in what felt like a small eternity that you woke up like that. It was a good feeling, and you hoped that you would be able to hang onto it.

Once you’d showered and done up your makeup and hair to your liking, you slipped on a pretty golden dress. It always made you feel pretty, the color bringing a slight bit of joy into your heart. You always felt confident and good in it, and you decided it was just what you needed. If your last session ended early enough, you even planned on stopping by the animal shelter to see if you made a connection with any of the adoptable animals. It was going to be a good day. You could feel it in your bones.

Once you were ready to go, you grabbed your pre-packed lunch from the fridge, along with your purse and the package for your mystery neighbor. Almost flouncing over to his porch because you were buzzing with energy, you hopped up the steps and set it on the front porch and center, in the middle of the doormat, topped off with a handwritten note introducing yourself. The mat was a generic one, and you did a little look around to see if you could find a name or any personal touches around the porch. But there was nothing - no clue as to who it could be. It was no matter, you told yourself, you would have your answers soon enough.

Giving the neatly wrapped container one last fond look, you headed to your car and off to work. Hopefully you’d be busy enough to keep your mind occupied. It was silly to get so invested in something so trivial and yet...here you were. An eternal dreamer and optimist at heart, just like you always had been, even as a teenager. Even if you had to suppress that side of yourself for some time, more so with each passing year, you were still the same girl underneath it all.

The day felt like it had like it went by in a blur as you saw several of your regular patients, feeling like you were finally able to help them properly and give them your undivided attention. It went so well that you did manage to finish up early, which meant you could have your fun and go look at animals. You knew it would be a challenge to meet different pets and not be able to take them all home, but you were willing to give it the old college try.

You hadn’t bothered to stop home and change, opting to go straight to the shelter.

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as you'd gotten there and started looking at the different dogs, you knew it would be hard.

So many of the sweet dogs came up to you, some wagging their tails in nervous excitement, some just beside themselves, but others were more reluctant, sitting and observing you. You went up to as many as you could, keeping a respectful distance from them and offering them your hand to sniff. A couple of them give you a few licks, letting you reach in and pet them, but getting distracted as soon as they spied other people. Sweet dogs, all of them, but those weren’t the ones for you. As you walked through the various dogs, you were disheartened to find that you didn’t seem to have a connection to any of them. You hoped they would go to good homes soon regardless. Maybe it wasn’t your day to find a companion, which was totally okay with you. You’d just come back some other day and make sure that one of them got a home in your adobe.

But as you neared the end of the last row, you stopped when you spotted a small dog, small for being a pitbull that was, sitting in the corner of her kennel, a sad, dejected look on her face. She was a pretty thing, light tan with white marking on her sweet face, but her eyes contained a deep sadness.

“Hi, sweet girl,” you said softly as you didn’t even hesitate to drop to your knees, dropping on the floor of the kennel, sliding a few fingers under the barrier keeping you from her, trying to coax her to you. She observed you with keen interest, but remained rooted in her spot, “you are so pretty! I bet you’re just as sweet too, aren’t you? I can tell…”

“She’s very sweet,” one of the shelter’s volunteers, a young boy by the name of Lucas that had let you in, said as he walked up to you, “but she’s really shy. She’s less than a year old, but she’s already had a go of it.”

“What happened to her?” you asked gently, keeping your voice down so you wouldn’t startle her, “she looks so sad.”

“She was abused by her former owner, sadly. They found her when they went to raid the owner’s home, apparently he was a small time drug dealer on top of it,” he explained and you made a small in the back of your throat as you just looked at her. It made your heart break to know that this poor animal, and so many others like her, were being abused for no reason - not that anyone, person or animal, should ever have been abused, “it’s made her shy, but she does warm up to people.”

“What’s her name?” you asked as she moved ever so marginally closer to you. You smiled at her, giving her an encouraging little nod.

“Daisy.”

“Daisy,” you called softly as her ears perked up slightly. It suited her, you decided, a soft pretty name for a pretty girl, “hi sweet Daisy. You are a big lovebug underneath it all, aren’t you?”

She turned her slightly to look at as you offered her a small, reassuring nod.

“How about Miss Daisy Mae?” you asked her and you got a glimpse of her tail wagging ever so slightly, “yeah, I think that’s perfect too. May I pet you?”

It was silent, completely so sans for the other dogs in their kennels as you attempted to gain her trust. You didn’t want to scare her off, but you wanted to see if you could get her to come closer. Lucas told you could stay as long as you wanted, and you decided that you would do just that, plopping onto your bottom as you gently spoke to her. You spent some time sitting there, talking to her about anything and everything, and slowly, inch by precious inch, she came closer to you until she was just a few inches from your hand. When you moved your hand and she didn’t flinch, you gently petted her muzzle, tracing over it delicately with a few fingers.

“You’ve been through a lot,” you mused quietly and she gently rubbed her head into your hand, “but you’ve got so much life left to live. So many happy things to come. Would you like to come home with me and see? I have a big bed that I have all to myself, and I could really use a companion to take up some of the space. Would you like to help me?”

She made a small sound as she looked up at you, her tail wagging ever so slightly. That was enough to convince you that you were making the right decision. Giving Daisy one last gentle touch, you slowly pulled your hand back to keep from startling her and jumped to your feet. She was yours, it hadn’t taken much to figure that out, and you were going to make sure she came home with you.

Telling her you would be back in a little bit, you went off in search of Lucas, to tell him to get you all the paperwork so you could bring her home with that day.

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as Daisy was all yours, you’d set her up in your car, draping a big, soft blanket over the backseat for her. You were glad you kept one in your car for whatever occasion called for it; this was the perfect time. As soon as she seemed to realize what was happening, Daisy’s eyes had lit up and she already seemed like a different dog, her tail going softly, but nonstop as she stayed close to your side.

You’d stopped by the pet store on your way home, bringing her in with you as you stocked up on the best dog food, treats, several big fluffy beds (one for each room of the house naturally), and let her pick out several toys. Whatever she wanted she got, honestly, and before you knew it before pushing a huge cartful to the counter to the pay. Daisy, now in a pretty yellow collar and leash, followed closely by your side, a little stuffed bear in her mouth. This felt so right, so natural, almost like you had meant to find her. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had felt this much joy in your heart, and you hoped the feeling would never go away.

“And this is where we live,” you told her as you pulled into the driveway, pulling up to the garage and turning off the car. She stood up and went to the window, looking out eagerly. Your break broke a little when you realize she probably never got to run and play like any puppy should, but you vowed to change that. You got and opened the door, not even bothering to stop her as she jumped out and started to sniff everywhere.

Sighing contentedly at the sight of the happy dog, the one that had quickly turned from nervous to optimistic, you started to gather everything out of the car to bring inside. Daisy came back to your side, following you with keen attention as you opened the door to the house and let her explore.

It wasn’t until your last excursion to the car to bring in the last of the toys, that your attention wandered back to your MIA neighbor. When you studied his house, you noticed that all the lights were off, and there was no car in the driveway. The package you had you left for him was still right where you had placed that morning. A small, dejected sigh left your lips as you quickly dashed over and retrieved the package. It was only slightly heartbreaking, but you knew it wasn’t due to any fault of yours. But still...you couldn’t help but wonder. Who was he? Where was he? Maybe one day your questions would be answered, but at least for now you had your new friend to keep you company. Just as you thought about her, you heard a small, almost tiny bark from your door as Daisy poked her head out and looked excitedly at you.

“Coming sweet girl!” you promised her as you ran back over to her. This day was decidedly not a waste in the slightest, you reminded yourself, you had a new friend and that was more important than anything else.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Several more days passed, and Daisy adjusted to life with you without a hitch. She really was the sweetest girl you had met, and she had won a big spot in your heart, and bed, almost instantly. Gone were the cookies you had baked for the neighbor you thought might not actually exist, eaten with some milk as you watched Netflix late into the evening with Daisy snoozing next to you.

Something though, whatever little stubborn streak you had, told you to keep trying.

So you did.

That night you dragged yourself back to the kitchen and repeated the painstaking process of making your now neighborhood famous cookies again. He was going to get these cookies come hell or high water. This time Daisy joined you in the kitchen and watched your every move intently, as you walked her through the process, giving her your best impression of some lofty Food Network chef.

Just as you had previously done earlier in the week, you prepped everything and stuck the same note on the top, making sure it looked perfect. Even if it ended up as another batch that you would eat, you wanted to go through the efforts and ensure it was perfect.

The next morning, you herded Daisy into the car, allowing her to come to your office with you. She had been enjoying coming to your office and greeting your clients, being a good girl and laying on her bed while you worked. Many of them seemed to find her comforting, and as thought she could sense when they needed something, which she probably did, she’d often go to comfort them with wet kisses and nuzzles. Ally had suggested that you look into her having certified as a therapy dog, which you decided was a perfect idea.

You wandered over to his porch and left the little package again and turned to head off to work. Whatever was meant to happen would happen. So if he didn’t come and get the cookies, so be it. You’d stop worrying about it and let it go.

When you got home that evening, you brought everything inside and let Daisy into the backyard to roam around before her dinner time, when you looked through the front windows to try and see your neighbor’s porch. You huffed when you came to the conclusion that you were at just the wrong angle to be able to see anything. Stalking out the front door to get a better look, you sighed deeply when the package was once again there. What had you really expected? You’d struck out for weeks now, the man was an enigma to yourself and everyone else around, it was a far cry that you’d ever really see him.

Grumbling at yourself for being too hopeful and optimistic, you trudged over to his porch, ready to take the cookies back again and enjoy them for yourself. Maybe you could bring them, and Daisy, over to Eddie and see if he would enjoy them and the dogs would get along. It wasn’t terribly exciting, but it was something anyway.

You bent down to pick up the small container, ready to head back home and get on with your day. But just as you swooped up the container, you heard the door unlock, causing you to jump back in surprise, dropping the container and letting it clatter to the ground. You took a step back and looked up, finding the door open, but the screen closed. Squinting your eyes, you tried to make out the person on the other side but found it almost impossible.

“H-hi,” you stammered nervously, hoping the person wouldn’t think you were stealing or snooping around, “I-I moved into the neighborhood a few weeks ago, and I was just...I made cookies! I was going to introduce myself but I hadn’t seen you or anything, so I figured I’d leave them for you. They-they’re not old though, I made this batch last night.”

Nothing but silence met your ears for several moments as you nervously picked up the container to display it for him. You were nervous suddenly, terrified that you had somehow offended him, or...something.

“I-I’ll get going,” you said as you set the cookies on the bench that was near the door. Unsure why you felt the need to keep speaking you gave him your name, letting it linger in the air for a moment, “I live right next door, so I guess maybe I will see you around. Yeah...well, umm...goodbye!”

But before you made it off the porch, you heard the screen door open, and swing shut. You swallowed the lump in your throat, ready to turn around and make a proper introduction when you heard your name whispered so quietly, that you thought you might have imagined it. That voice...that soft, gentle voice caused your heart to skip a few beats. You knew that voice.

Turning around slowly, you came face to face with the man that had been on your mind for weeks. You brought your eyes up to the man’s face and a small gasp of surprise left your lips.

“F-Frankie?” except this wasn’t the Frankie you’d known. No, this man was tired looking, nothing but sheer exhaustion on his face, dark circles, parched lips, no trace of facial hair, his hair flattened from what you knew was a signature hat. This was a different man, a world weary man, a man who you never intended on seeing again. But you knew that voice, you knew it so well, you’d recognize it anywhere, even after all this time. But there was something about him, how he was looking at you that broke our heart.

He remained silent as his dark eyes watched you, wondering how and why on earth you’d ended up as his neighbor. It was like some force was at play, some weird thing that kept bringing the two of you together.

He remained silent as the two of you looked at each other, his eyes quickly flicked to your left hand. You straightened up when you noticed that and got ready to walk away, unsure of how to feel in that moment. Once again, your life was thrown in a complete tailspin.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, unable to find any words.

But before you could leave his porch, his hand went to your wrist, taking it gently in his large hand as you immediately turned around and gave him a wide eyed stare.

Your chest was rising and falling rapidly as you looked at him in silent question, and he did the same.

This was Frankie - your Frankie. After all these years, he was still yours.

Before either of you could say anything, he gently grabbed your face and studied it for a moment before crashing his lips onto yours. It took a moment for you to react, and for a few beats before you kissed him back, not even having to think about it. But just as quickly as it had started you came to your senses and while part of you was screaming to continue to kiss him, the logical part of your brain took over and you pushed him away from you. Immediately realizing what you were doing, he let go of you and took a step back.

“Don’t,” you insisted sharply, your voice crackling on the singular word, “don’t. You don’t get to do that. I shouldn’t have done that. Not anymore. Never again.”

Before he could say anything, you dashed away from him, running back over to your house. This had to be some sort of weird dream, surely life couldn’t be throwing another challenge at you. Surely you’d been through enough.

Surely you weren’t neighbors, after all this time and years, with Frankie Morales.

Life couldn’t be that cruel...right?

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #catfish morales #catfish morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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foilfreak · 3 years

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Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 3

Warning: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(Link to ao3 version in comments below)

“Going off the information I have listed here, it appears as though you’ll be receiving subject N-45, today. She’s a healthy 22 year old female. Her short, but muscular body weighs 95lbs with a childish height of 4’10” tall. She possesses primarily Romanian and Filipino ancestry, with some Dutch or Finnish or... whatever, thrown in there as well. And according to the various items we found on her person when she was first brought in, she’s apparently a graduate student at the University of Bucharest, or, at least she was, before she drove her car into a tree while driving up the mountain and was recovered by Heisenberg” Miranda explains robotically, reading aloud from a piece of paper held inside a thick manila envelope. “Of the 4 remaining test subjects, N-45 is easily the most violent and difficult one to work with, having to be either anesthetized or restrained every time I wanted to so much as take her vitals or stabilize her condition. When given smaller doses of sedatives she-”

For the first time in his entire life, Salvatore completely ignores whatever unimportant nonsense Mother Miranda is going on about, continuing to take in and analyze the strikingly unique appearance of the young woman before him.

Upon first inspection, N-45 appeared to resemble that of a normal woman in just about every way possible. Her hair was scruffy and very short, barely long enough to reach her eyes, and a deep black color that looked so soft and luxurious that Salvatore ached to run his fingers through it. Her face was slightly round, giving the young woman a very youthful appearance, with her sharp jawline and prominent cheekbones being some of the only things keeping Salvatore from mistaking her for a child. And lastly, her... figure, if Salvatore had to put such an embarrassing idea into words, was similar to that of Mother Miranda, only shorter, more compact even. It reminded the hooded man of those small packets of candy Duke occasionally gifted him that said “fun sized” on the label, in reference to them being much smaller than the standard sized candy bars and yet somehow being… better, despite technically giving you less candy.

She was already perfect as she was, but it was not just N-45’s beautiful human features that pulled Salvatore in and refused to let him escape the stupefaction he’d been placed under, but also her mutations.

A soft royal blue coated her from head to toe, giving way only to a large patch of solid white located on her chest and stomach. Her skin catches the light in a way that reveals areas of tiny overlapping scales, glimmering like stars in the midnight sky, or freshly polished armor, perhaps, along the bony ridges and tender curves of her figure.

Small white dots distributed like paint splatters across the colored sections of her flesh give a similar visual effect as freckles, starting from her hairline and extending all the way down to the very tips of her toes. These galaxies of white were invisible only on the white patch along the front of her torso, as well as on the lighter blue hue taken on by both the palms and webbings of her hands and feet.

Long Fin-like extensions grew along both her forearms and lower back. The former extended outward and inward like a windshield wiper, likely used to decrease water resistance. The latter, however, perhaps used to increase fine motor maneuverability while swimming at greater speeds or in tighter spaces, grew straight downwards from her lower back in an overlapping fan configuration that marginally covered her rear end, though not by very much. The fins looked like a soft, delicate material that was probably very flexible but very durable, if Salvatore had to guess just from looking.

And to top everything off, N-45 even appeared to even have gills, 2 different sets by the looks of it. The first set of 3 breathing slits was located horizontally along both sides of her neck, while the second set could be found on both sides of her torso, following the downward angle of her ribs but stopping just underneath her soft, plump-looking breasts.

Salvatore feels a sudden wave of heat cascade over his body and he turns his face away in shameful embarrassment as he suddenly realizes that N-45, much like every test subject undergoing cadou treatment, was still very, very nude at the present moment.

“I can’t make any promises regarding her disposition, but physically speaking, she’s ready to be released to you whenever you’d like. I’ll have some of the villagers transport and release her into the reservoir later this week” Mother Miranda says, pressing a button to close the pod now that Salvatore was no longer staring at her.

“W-wait just a m-moment” Salvatore calls out, prompting Mother Miranda to halt the closing of the pod.

“Yes? What is it?” The woman asks curtly, clearly not wanting to stand here and watch Salvatore any longer than she has to.

Wringing his hands together nervously, Salvatore meekly asks, “C-could… could y-you wake h-her up… s-so that I can s-speak with her… j-just for a m-moment?”

Mother Miranda remains silent for a moment, blank face staring directly at Salvatore as she contemplates what to do.

“No, Moreau,” she says finally. “I’ve had a very busy day today and I'm quite tired. N-45 is a menace that I struggle to deal with even on my best days. The last thing I need is something going wrong and her getting out and causing all sorts of chaos.”

Salvatore’s shoulders slump in disappointment, but he makes no further attempts to argue.

Mother Miranda rolls her eyes at the incredibly childish display, walking over to place a gentle hand on Salvatore’s head. “Would it make you feel better if I agreed to have N-45 be the first of the subjects to be dropped off? It’ll be more difficult than my original plan, but I suppose it was a bit unfair that you were the only one who didn’t get to “pick” their gift.”

“Yes, M-Mother Miranda… I-I’d like th-that very… very m-much” Salvatore says, leaning into the touch as Mother Miranda begins guiding him back toward the hallway leading to the exit door.

It wasn’t until after Miranda had exited the lab and begun walking down the long hallway toward the exit that Salvatore dared cast another glance back at the pod that contained N-45, wistfully thinking of how amazing her hand had felt in his, and how much he wanted to speak to her.

Just as the disfigured man was about to turn back and follow Miranda out of the laboratory, a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, prompting Salvatore to tense and snap toward the 4 pods, frantically trying to figure out what it was he saw. A few seconds of stillness pass before Salvatore sees movement again, not freely moving about the room like he originally expected, but from within one of the 4 pods, his pod to be exact.

His curiosity momentarily outweighing his nerves, Salvatore slowly approaches the metal capsule, trying to get a look through the small pane of glass that allows visual access into the holding pod.

Another flash of movement has Salvatore flinching, jumping back as though he’d been advanced upon. After several seconds of stillness, however, the hooded man regains his confidence and once again inches his way toward the capsule, moving his head up and down to try and get one more glimpse at N-45 before he has to leave. One last look before she lays eyes upon his vile and disgusting body for the first time, screaming and calling him a monster as she runs away, leaving him alone and without anyone to call his own. Just like always.

“ Hello ?”

Salvatore froze dead in his tracks, his heart pounding and his lungs refusing to take in air, as a soft, muffled, questioning voice reaches the deformed man’s ears, followed by two golden orbs with narrow black slits running vertically through the center, that slowly peek into view from the bottom of the glass window. Salvatore’s eyes widen in shock as he quickly realizes that the orbs of gold are not, in fact, just spheres of color, but rather a pair of eyes, staring intently at him from inside the pod.

“Uuuuuh… u-u-uuum… I-i… I w-was just…” the disfigured man stuttered as he struggled to move his body, seemingly paralyzed by the bewitching gaze currently locked onto him, looking at him with an intensity that makes Salvatore wonder if this is what it feels like to be a cell put under a microscope.

It isn’t until Salvatore notices the golden orbs moving and shifting from one corner of the window pane to the other that the hooded man realizes, to his immediate horror, that he might not be the only one trying to get a better look at the figure located on the other side of the pod door. Panic and fear immediately fill Salvatore from deep within, growing strong enough to allow him to finally overcome his temporary paralysis and skitter away from view. Pulling his hood even further over his petrifyingly grotesque face in shame of himself, Salvatore flees the laboratory as quickly as his hobbled limp would allow.

His heart pounds to the beat of the soft, but desperate pleas of protest coming from N-45’s pod in response to Salvatore’s rapidly retreating form, yet the hooded man cannot bring himself to believe what he hears as true. Perhaps believing that the siren-like voice he hears echoing off the metal laboratory walls to be nothing more than a trick of his sick and lonely mind, Salvatore does not stop, nor does he turn back around until he’s met up with Mother Miranda at the exit to the surface, lungs burning and legs aching from running for so far and long.

“Oh, there you are, Moreau,” Mother Miranda says suddenly, stopping just before they are about to exit the laboratory. “I’m glad you chose this time to finally catch up, because I just realized a second ago that I’d forgotten to give you N-45’s previous name. You can name her something else if you’d prefer, of course, but I offered the information to your siblings so I suppose I should offer it to you as well. Would you still like to know N-45’s name, or would you rather abandon her given name for one of your own choosing?”

After a few seconds of silent contemplation, Salvatore lifts his head, “I… I-i would like to k-know… her n-name… please...” the mutant man says softly.

Mother Miranda briefly raises a questioning eyebrow at Salvatore’s nervous body language, but ultimately rolls her eyes and shrugs her shoulders, all but tossing the Manila envelope containing N-45’s information at the hooded man before disappearing out the large metal door.

“If you’re going to read that now, feel free, but return to the meeting room once you're done. And be sure to lock the door to my laboratory behind you” Miranda commands, her voice having grown echoey due to how far away she now was.

“Yes, M-Mother” Salvatore calls after her as he scrambles to catch the thrown file and prevent any loose papers from falling out. Once he’s got a solid handle on the thick envelope, he opens it, casting a quick glance back in the direction of the pod room, where Nadine and the other 3 gifts were being held for the time being.

Returning to the file, Salvatore frantically flips through every page, trying to find the one that held N-45’s personal background information.

After several minutes of desperate flipping back and forth, Salvatore finally focuses on one particular piece of paper that looked to have been in the file for the longest. Pulling out the particular page he’d found, the disfigured man drops the rest of the folder onto the ground and begins rapidly skimming through the information printed on the page, his hungry eyes refusing to stop until they finally zeroed in on the information he’d been looking for.

Project: E.V.A. Resurrection

Subject: N-45

Parasite Administered: Cadou (Series- N; Strain- 45)

Family Name: Bogdan

Given Name: Nadine

“N… Nadine” Salvatore said slowly, feeling slightly lightheaded and out of breath as each individual letter of the young woman’s name rolled off his tongue like Camembert cheese; smooth, creamy, decedent, and likely to keep him up all night with an upset stomach and a racing heartbeat.

Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine.

The name quickly became a broken loop played over and over and over again inside Salvatore’s head, his mind unable, or rather unwilling, to think of anything else as he read, reread, and then re-reread Nadine’s name at least 100 times, before finally setting the piece of paper down.

“Nadine...” Salvatore breathes the name once again, his voice carrying a wistful tone. “E-even your n-name is wonderful...”

An already beautiful woman, made even more perfect through the power of science and Mother Miranda’s grace, only for all that potential to end up wasted in the hands of a desperately lonely and horrifically mangled fish mutant, who was more likely to accidentally dissolve her in stomach acid than woo her like some kind of aquatic Prince Charming.

“Y-ya right... e-e-even with a-another mutant… I’m s-still so disgusting a-an… and horrifying in comparison… n-not even my o-own kind can b-bring thems-themselves to love me f-for who I a-am… not th-that there’s much of m-me that’s worth l-loving to begin w-with” Moreau laments to himself, wondering if it was even worth holding out hope that things with Nadine could go his way. As if one look at his monstrous form wouldn’t be enough to ruin everything Salvatore already has an agonizingly low chance of ever having with that magnificent specimen of a woman.

Even with Nadine’s own external mutations making it clear that she was no longer fully human, her form had still retained such a beautifully strong, yet womanly shape to it, and her face still looked so young and innocent despite everything that she’s been through. Someone as beautiful as her was far too good and pure to be tainted by his filthy hands.

‘Maybe I should just kill her when the villagers arrive with her at the gate? At least then... I could say I put her out of her misery before she had to experience it for herself…’ Salvatore sulks mentally.

However, despite the self degrading thoughts running through his mind, the memory of the curious look Nadine’s shockingly bright and mesmerizing golden eyes held when trying to look at Salvatore through the pod window made the hooded man shiver, having never been looked upon in such an innocently curious manner before. Most people who got that close to Salvatore didn’t even need to see his face in order to start screaming and running away in terror. However, if the deformed man allowed himself a brief moment to believe that it was indeed her who’d been calling him to come back and show himself, then from the tone and rushed quality of her voice, it would seem as though Nadine was unsatisfied with the fact that she hadn’t seen all of Salvatore’s face and body, not terrified.

How strange...

How very strange indeed…

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planetsano · 4 years

Text

push and pull.

prompt: bakugou has been neglecting the reader because of work. she can't handle that because all she wants is love and attention.

warning(s): ceo!au, major sugar daddy vibes, aged up, hurt/comfort, f!reader, softie baku at the end.

pairing(s): bakugou katsuki x reader

You definitely felt like a spoiled brat. Walking around the Gucci store with a pout displayed on your glossed lips and nose held high like nothing in the vicinity was even close to being decent enough for you. Heels clicking lightly against the marbled flooring as you wandered around. This was such a drag. Your manicured finger lazily traced a handbag on a display table, it was probably worth someone's salary but you weren't interested. Your eyes were locked on the handsome blonde man pacing back and forth outside the big glass windows of the store. He was angrily speaking into the phone stopping ever so often to insult whoever was on the receiving end.

That— that stupid jerk is Bakugou Katsuki, your boyfriend, and he pinky promised to spend the day with you uninterrupted. Meaning no work calls, no emails, no boring paperwork— just you and him spending time together. He even promised to buy you that new handbag and the matching shoes you’ve been absolutely dying for but here you were in your current situation.

Recently, Bakugou has been incredibly busy with work but you couldn't exactly blame him. He was the CEO of a very successful multi-billion dollar company. But these past few weeks felt like you could never catch him not answering a business call or typing some boring email. Attempting to get one kiss from him always led you to be met with a dismissive wave of the hand as he answered the call. You knew it wasn't wise to bother him any further because he did have a temper. You’ve seen countless people on the receiving end of his rage and you didn't want to be met with it. Though it was sexy at times, you never liked upsetting him so you just left him alone. Always feeling deflated and discouraged as you opened up a tub of your favorite ice cream. Stress eating. This happened on multiple instances over the course of nearly a month. Quite frankly, you felt unwanted and it was driving you mad.

Walking around this store, there were so many beautiful and luxurious things, but your heart wasn't in it. Shopping wasn't much fun without his hand in yours giving you his opinions about how a dress or shoes would look on you, helping you zip up your dresses and sneaking naughty makeout sessions in the dressing room. Don't worry, you knew you looked pathetic. All pouty and woe as me. My rich boyfriend isn't giving me attention, life is so tough… you could laugh at yourself right now.

You missed him a lot but you were understanding… as understanding as you could be. You wondered if it was selfish to feel this nasty feeling pooling in your chest and stomach. Was it selfish to feel.. neglected? Was it selfish to want to have him all to yourself for just a day?

Was he.. losing interest in you? Was there someone else? Surely work couldn't take up that much of his time.. Did you upset him recently and didn't realize? Feelings of anxiety and nausea started to bubble up within you.. You didn't feel well at all and started to get sick to your stomach the more you got caught up in your thoughts. You wanted to leave. Now.

You hastily exited the store to find Bakugou. It looked like he was just about to come back in to find you, but you stopped him in his tracks. Almost immediately he noticed how drained you looked. Like there was something bothering you. He thought maybe some had said something rude to you but before he could react you spoke.

“Baby, can we go home? I don't feel good..” You looked up at him with a frown, your dainty hand resting on his chest.

The car ride back was quiet. Bakugou noticed your sudden change in demeanor causing him to take more than a couple glances at you in the passenger seat. Usually you'd be so bright and talkative, ushering him to sing along to whatever shitty song you had playing but you were radio silent. Maybe you actually didn't feel good? He would make ure to have his assistant buy you some medicine.

Men are so clueless..

“You ready?”

Your eyes averted their attention from your reflection to the handsome blonde casually adjusting his cufflinks behind you. He looked absolutely stunning standing there in an all black suit accompanied with a red tie. It not only complimented his eyes beautifully, but it matched your sparkly red gown as well. It almost pissed you off how he could be doing the bare minimum and still manage to look that good. But now wasn't the time to oogle. You came up with the conclusion that if he wanted to neglect you then you’d give him a dose of his own medicine. You ignored his presence and picked up your favorite highlighter and a brush, dusting your collarbones lightly to make them pop.

Bakugou walked a few steps closer and you continued to focus on your reflection in the mirror. He leaned over to plant a single kiss on the end of your shoulder, then made a trail of light and soft kisses along your shoulder blade, to the base of your neck and finally to that sensitive part of skin just below your earlobe. It took everything in you, plus more not to give in to his affections, but you desperately wanted to melt under him. You were so incredibly touch starved, especially these days. You missed him, but at the same time you were so upset with him. You couldn't just give in the moment he realizes you exist again. Fuck him. You were supposed to be angry. Not needy.

“You look fuckin’ amazing..” His voice was deep as he whispered into your ear. You closed your eyes tightly and sighed deeply, quickly getting up from your vanity stool and brushed past him, not even looking in his direction. You didn't get far before Bakugou grabbed your wrist and pulled back towards him fully closing the gap between you two and secured an arm around your waist making sure you weren't going anywhere.

God, you could feel him staring a hole into your head as you looked off to the side avoiding eye contact at all costs. You just couldn't bring yourself to look him in the eyes. You’d break.

Bakugou grabbed your face with his free hand forcing you to look at him, temporarily squishing your cheeks and making your lips go into a kissable pout. His harsh crimson gaze was locked onto your doe like eyes making you feel incredibly vulnerable and shy. You hated the power he had over you. Something as simple as eye contact making your ears and cheeks flare up in the color red. The thoughts and emotions from earlier coming back all at once threatening to make you sick all over again.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He asked bluntly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and irritation from your behavior. He could see something was bothering you and it was pissing him off that you weren't talking to him.

“Nothing.. I promise..” You replied. “I'm happy! See?” You forced a smile on your face as Bakugou watched your bottom lip quiver and eyes water as you tried to pathetically convince him you were fine all while looking like a kicked puppy.

“You’re a shit liar. You're about to fucking cry.” Bakugou’s hand shifted to cup the side of your face. You leaned into the warmth of his hand

“Tell me what's wrong.” His voice was still blunt and expression still stern. He never wants to see you like this. Sure, you got upset or even bratty from time to time but he's never seen you in this state and it worried the fuck out of him.

“I-I.. I just-!” You struggled to find proper words to convey how you felt. His thumb rubbed your cheek gently somewhat calming you down and keeping you from hyperventilating.

“Breathe.” His voice and expression softened upon seeing you teary and vulnerable.

“I just miss you!” You blurted out. Bakugou looked down at you with his brows furrowed in confusion.

“You're so busy with work you seem to forget I exist, I don't say anything because I-I’m proud of you and I want you to be successful! I understand you're very busy but.. but is it too much to ask for thirty minutes of your time? Katsuki, I miss spending time with you-” Bakugou watched you pour out all your emotions and thoughts like word vomit.

Guilt hit him all at once like a fucking train seeing you crying because of him. He was the reason you felt like this and he wanted to punch himself in the face for not noticing how unhappy you were sooner. He did admit that work seemed to be the only thing he’s been about lately. Neglecting his love life, his friends, his family, maybe even his own health. Even holding you this close made him realize that he hasn't been.. this close in proximity to you in a while. He fucked up.

“I-Is there someone else? Is that it? My hair.. I can change it if you'd like. Do you still love me? I-” That was the final straw for him. He cut you off with a swift kiss to the lips. It surprised you but you almost immediately moved your lips into sync with his. The kiss was sloppy and too many emotions fueled it, but the most prevalent one was want.

Bakugou’s heart ached hearing your words. Of course he still loved you. Everything about you was perfect in every way, there was no way on Earth he would lose you over some random extra that probably only wanted him for his money and last name. The fact that you were so.. willing to change for him to make him happy because you were so in love seemed so... wrong. He thought that if anything he should be the one trying to make you happy. He couldn't give a fuck whether your hair was long or short, curly or straight, he loved you regardless. Your appearance was never a factor in his feelings for you. Only a bonus.

He pulled away from your lips suddenly and looked at you. Your eyes were puffy, mascara was running and your lipstick was smeared but you still looked beautiful. It was a look he particularly liked but, it was not under these circumstances. You were usually on your knees.

“Don't say stupid things like that.” Bakugou started.

“..I'm so shit at relationships..” He struggled with his words and you could see it in his face. He wasn't ever one to express how he felt.

“‘m sorry for treating you like a fucking stranger.. you know I love you. No one else could even hold a fucking candle to you, that shouldn't even be a thought in this pretty fucking head of yours.” He sighed.

“I don't fucking care about how your hair looks.. I only care about you.” He finished.

Your crying stopped at some point when he was speaking and you were only met with soft hiccups. Bakugou wiped the final few tears from your cheeks and left a kiss on your forehead.

“Stop crying over me. I'm not worth it.” He whispered against your skin. For some reason his words shocked you. Not worth it? You thought was worth all your tears plus more, what was he on about? Did he really think he wasn't good enough for you?

“You don't say stupid things like that either. You're worth all the good things in the world.” You said softly. Bakugou’s heart fluttered at your words and he almost felt himself blush. There was a comfortable silence before you spoke up again.

“Oh no,” You looked at the time. “We're going to be late to the event and I look atrocious” You looked up at him with a pout.

“Fuck it. They'll be fine without us. Those bastards are annoying as hell anyway.. Let's get dinner, yeah? You can pick where we go.” Bakugou proposed and you smiled.

“Let's go.” You stood on your tippy toes and planted a kiss on his lips.

a/n: I hope you guys enjoyed this! For only 2k+ words I feel like I took forever to write this. I just wanted it to be up to standard.. feedback would be amazing. Also, my requests are open! Thank you for 100 followers! ❤️

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou imagines #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki imagine #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia imagines #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha bakugou

1K notes · View notes

specialagentsergio · 3 years

Text

all we can do is keep breathing || chapter one

summary: He’s out of prison now, but your boyfriend is very much not okay. When he isn’t reinstated, he spirals down quickly, and you don’t know how to help him out of it. (or, spencer relapses post-prison and goes to rehab)

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: angst (eventual happy ending)

content warnings: swearing, drug abuse & addiction, an overdose, substance use disorder, ptsd, mentions of suicide, mentions of/implied sex, references to sexual assault, description of a panic attack/ptsd episode. please read with caution; this content can be triggering.

a/n: honestly, i just wrote this for myself. but it was partially inspired by @zhuzhubii ‘s brilliant and heart wrenching fic i know what’s best for me (but i want you instead). mine takes a different turn, but theirs is amazing as well.

a/n 2: disclaimer that while i have both been a patient at a residential treatment center and currently work at one, i don’t have substance use disorder and we don’t treat it specifically at my current workplace. my experience is also all in adolescent centers rather than adult ones, so this won’t be entirely accurate.

word count: 8k

song: paralyzed by nf

fic masterlist || masterlist

Nothing’s been the same since Mexico.

You weren’t naïve. You hadn’t been expecting things to go right back to normal when he got home from prison. You were prepared for Spencer to struggle. And you were ready to do whatever it took to help him recover from this trauma.

But you had never expected that that dedication would lead you to here—sitting on the couch at 11 o’clock at night, tired but wide awake, waiting for him to return from god knows where. A few cardboard boxes filed with the last of his things are stacked neatly beside you.

Spencer’s six-year sobriety coin sits in your hand. You’d found it in the trash a few days after he got home. You had tried to talk him into keeping it—"you were drugged; it’s not your fault”—but he had refused, leading you to believe there was something he wasn’t telling you. But you hadn’t pushed him on it, as that would just be a surefire way to make him double down on keeping it to himself.

He didn’t want the coin, but you kept it, hidden from his sight, hoping he’d want it back someday.

Now, three months later, you weren’t sure that day was going to come.

He had managed to get by for six weeks. He’d been plagued by nightmares and suffered multiple panic attacks, but he’d pushed through the cravings, gone to all his mandated therapy appointments, and attended refresher courses on procedures and firearms. He did everything the bureau required to consider reinstating him.

The day of the meeting, Spencer had seemed a little nervous, but stable. He’d gotten a good night’s sleep, free of bad dreams, and he had given you a kiss goodbye that felt just like the ones he’d always given you before. Then he walked out the door, and you didn’t hear from him for the rest of the day.

You got the news from Emily. The bureau had decided not to reinstate him “at this time”. They recommended that he reapply in six months, but for now, he wouldn’t be getting his badge and gun back.

Your initial reaction had been relief. Although you had shown Spencer nothing but encouragement, you weren’t sure he would ever be ready to go back, let alone so soon. You didn’t even know why he was reapplying. He’d worked for them for over a decade and become a well-respected agent, but when he needed help, the bureau had abandoned him and refused to help him prove his innocence. You had been so furious you could barely speak when JJ told you their decision.

Spencer didn’t share your sentiment—or if he did, he didn’t want to face it. On some level, you understood. The BAU was his home before you were, and you could imagine that after the chaos of the last three months, he desperately wanted his life to just go back to normal. So even though you weren’t sure that this was the best decision for him to make—especially since he seemed to have barely thought about it at all—you’d supported him. Whatever he needed, right?

You tried calling him after talking to Emily, but he didn’t answer. It didn’t worry you too much at first—Spencer often needed space to process things on his own before talking about it. You wouldn’t be able to have a proper conversation until you were off work anyways.

It was around six when the anxiety kicked in. You’d tried calling him a few more times throughout the day to no avail. You hadn’t even gotten a text back. Then you started getting messages from his team, asking how he was doing and if he was okay. They hadn’t heard from him either.

When you’d gotten home, you had immediately looked to the chair Spencer always left his bag on. It was empty. You’d looked through all the rooms anyways, trying to ignore what your gut was telling you he was off doing.

It was a few more hours before he stumbled through the front door, his eyes glassy and footing unstable. You stood in front of him, putting your hands on his upper arms to keep him steady. When he had caught your eyes, he had started to cry.

He’d been more or less inconsolable for the rest of the night, blubbering out apologies as you guided him through the motions of getting into bed. He’d clung to you and you’d murmured reassurances against his skin and into his hair that you still loved him, that you didn’t think any less of him, that he would be okay. You had truly thought he would be at the time.

But he wasn’t okay, not at all. He quickly became stuck in a cycle of using, promising it was the last time, staying clean for a little while, then relapsing. You had pleaded with him to get help, but he’d become... aggressive when you suggested inpatient treatment.

“Don’t ever say that,” he’d snarled. “I’m not my mother.”

Then later that same night, he had crawled into bed next to you at 2 AM, curled up against your side, and begged in a trembling voice, “please don’t send me away.”

You haven’t had the courage to bring it up again until now.

Four days ago, you hit your breaking point. You’d come home from work and found him limp on the couch, barely breathing, a syringe and little glass vial next to him. You’d dialed 911 as you ran into the bedroom, yanked open your bedside table, and pulled out the auto injectable dose of Narcan you’d acquired a few weeks ago just in case. Thanks to that, Spencer was conscious again by the time the EMTs arrived. He resisted being taken to the ER, alternating between scowling at them and looking at you with pleading eyes.

But you didn’t give in. When he had checked himself out of the hospital an hour later (you had refused to do it for him), you had driven him home, but the entire time you were formulating a plan. You’d realized that you were padding his rock bottom, and you couldn’t do it anymore.

So now here you are, waiting on the couch. You hope it will work this time. About a month ago you had tried staging an intervention with his team, but as soon as he saw them, he’d walked right back out of the room and you hadn’t seen him again for nearly two days.

It’s another hour before he arrives home, and it takes his drug-fogged mind a full minute to process what he’s seeing. His voice is hoarse when he asks, “You’re leaving?”

“No,” you reply. “You are.”

Spencer sways slightly on his feet as he thinks. “You’re kicking me out,” he realizes.

You try to ignore the prick of tears in your eyes and focus on keeping your voice steady. “Yes. I am.”

His bottom lip starts to tremble. “You... you can’t do this,” he whispers.

“No, I can,” you say. You take a deep breath before you continue. “But more than that, I have to.”

For the first time in months, Spencer doesn’t try and hide his tears from you. He cries openly. His back hits the wall and he slides down it, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. It’s unbelievably hard to watch.

You stand and approach him cautiously, almost as if he’s an animal that you don’t want to spook, reaching into your back pocket and holding out a keycard. “I booked you a room for the night at that motel a few streets over, so you can... sleep it off. But after that, you’re on your own.”

He looks up at you with those big brown eyes that you love so much, but they don’t look like they used to. Now they’re bloodshot and his pupils are pinpricks. “(Y/N), please, please don’t do this,” he whimpers. “Please, this is the last time. I won’t do it again, I promise.”

You just shake your head. His words are nothing new. “Your car is already in the parking lot there with the rest of your things.”

It’s like a switch flips, his broken expression contorting into a glare. “Fine,” he practically growls. He pushes your hand away and staggers to his feet. “I don’t want that shitty motel room. I’ll just go stay with JJ. She actually cares about me.”

You expected him to lash out like this, but the words still sting. “You really think JJ’s going to let you be around her boys like this?” you ask quietly.

The anger on his face is offset some by the tears and snot still running down it.. And you know he knows that you’re right. “So this is it, huh?” he says coldly, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. “Six years together, all we’ve been through. It’s just over now.”

You retreat back to the couch, placing the keycard on top of the boxes. “That’s actually up to you.”

His laugh is derisive. “You could have fooled me!”

You swallow around the lump in your throat. “I don’t want this to be permanent. You can stay now, or come back, on one condition.”

Spencer folds his arms over his chest defensively. “Which is?”

“You have to agree to check into a treatment center.”

The look of betrayal on his face breaks your heart. Tears spill out of your eyes before you can stop them; you swipe them away and take a deep breath to try and hold the rest of them off.

It’s a while before he speaks again, and his voice is quiet when he does. “How can you say that.” It’s not a question.

“It’s what you need, Spencer,” you answer. “You’re not coping with what happened to you. Not just prison, everything that’s happening to your mom, too—”

“Don’t talk about my mother!”

You flinch. He’s never raised his voice at you before. It’s the drugs, you try to remind yourself. It’s just the drugs, he doesn’t really mean it.

He storms forward and you scurry out of the way on instinct. He scoffs. “What, you think I’m going to hurt you?”

“You’re scaring me right now,” you admit quietly.

Spencer tries to cover up the hurt with a scowl, but you can still see it in his eyes. “You really think that little of me?”

You open your mouth to speak, then close it again. You don’t know what to say. Spencer would never hurt you, you know that without a doubt. But the Spencer you know, the man you fell in love with... he’s not the same person when he’s using. And with how high and emotional he is right now, you don’t know what to expect. “I... I don’t know anymore, Spencer,” you answer honestly.

He shrugs. “Maybe you’re right to think that. I did some awful things in there, you know.” He says it matter-of-factly, but you recognize it as a glimpse of one of the things he’s using the drugs to escape from, one of the things he won’t talk about.

He gathers up the boxes in his arms; you pretend not to notice him pocketing the keycard. You’re worried about him carrying them safely in his current state and almost reach out to steady him before recognizing from the tension in his shoulders that touching him right now will only make things worse.

He stops at the door and you hurry to open it for him. “I really believed you loved me, you know,” he whispers, the anger falling off of his face.

The words are like a blow to the stomach; it knocks the breath out of your lungs. “I do,” you choke out. “I do love you.”

Spencer doesn’t answer. He just shakes his head and walks out the door.

He doesn’t look back.

---

It’s been the longest two weeks of your life.

You haven’t heard from Spencer since the night he left. You weren’t expecting him to come around to the idea of rehab quickly, but you thought he might try and call you within a few days and try to talk his way out of the hole he’d found himself in.

He didn’t.

All you could do was wait, and hope that that night wasn’t going to end up being the last time you saw him alive. In a way, it was worse than it had been when he was in prison, because this time, you were the reason he was gone.

His team has mixed feelings on what you’ve done.

JJ is mad. She asks, “how could you?”, and, “you really think this will work?” You try to be patient with her—you know she’s so upset because she loves him. She already lost her older sister and now she’s scared of losing the man who’s practically her brother. But when she (perhaps unintentionally) insinuates that you did this because you’d just had enough of him, you snap, telling her she has no right to say that when you know she wouldn’t let him stay at her house while he’s using. She keeps her thoughts to herself after that.

Emily is sympathetic. She was there the first time he started using and had subsequently gotten her head bitten off when she tried to reach out and help him. “I know how hard it is to get through to him when he’s... like this. You just let me know if I can help at all.”

Luke is much the same. He’s had his own struggles with PTSD and understands the toll it takes on everyone, not just the one with it. He’s always happy to offer you some time with Roxy, because he’s right—things really do feel better when you’re petting her.

Rossi isn’t... indifferent, exactly. He just doesn’t seem to have much of an opinion one way or the other. You think it’s because he doesn’t know what an alternative would be. For all his experience in psychology, he’s unsure of how to help Spencer.

You don’t know Matt very well yet, but he’s kind to you, even going so far as to bring you a dish of his wife’s lasagna.

Penelope is an absolute angel with her warm hugs and baked goods. She keeps an eye on Spencer’s cell phone location for you, in the event that he ends up at a police precinct or hospital.

Out of everyone, you like talking to Tara the most. She’s so supportive and understanding. You feel like she’s the only one who truly knows what the past few months have been like for you. She just gets it, having lived with a partner with substance use disorder before. “You’re doing the best you can and that’s all that matters,” she tells you. She even goes to a Narcotics Anonymous family meeting with you.

It’s day fourteen without Spencer, and it doesn’t feel much different. It feels bleak. You go to work and run errands, but you only manage it because it’s habit.

You’re rinsing off your plate from dinner when there’s a knock on the door. Your heart leaps into your throat. You aren’t expecting anyone. You try—in vain—not to hope too hard as you go to answer it. It could just be someone dropping by on a whim, or, god forbid, a police officer with bad news.

Please, Spencer. Please let it be you.

When you look through the peephole, you’re unable to hold back a sob of relief. His eyes are fixed on the doormat so you can’t quite see his face, but you’d recognize that head of hair anywhere, even in its current unwashed and disheveled state. You take a few deep breaths before opening the door, for his sake. You crying all over him is likely the last thing he wants or needs.

He doesn’t look up when you open the door, and you realize he’s waiting for you to make the first move.

“Spencer,” you say softly.

It’s a few more moments before he responds. “I’ll do it,” he finally mutters; you can just barely hear him.

Your breath catches in your chest. “You’ll do what?” you ask.

He glances up then, a look of annoyance flashing across his face.

“I’m not trying to be difficult,” you say, voice shaky from the effort of holding back tears. “I just... I need to hear you say it.”

He sighs and looks back down, tugging on the ends of his sleeves. “I’ll... I’ll go to... to re—rehab.”

Tension you didn’t even know you were holding in your body melts away. You step to the side. “Come in,” you whisper.

He shuffles inside. When you turn back from closing the door, he’s just standing still in the middle of the room. You get a better look at him now. His clothes are rumpled and his hair is an absolute mess, tangled and dirty. It doesn’t look like he’s had a shower or shave for at least a week—you figure he’s probably been sleeping in his car. His face is pale and his hands are trembling; as you move closer, you can see a light sheen of sweat on his face, leading you to believe that he’s currently sober and starting to experience withdrawal symptoms.

You touch his arm gently and he makes a distressed whining sound. You guide him to sit on the couch. When you sit next to him, he looks at you with teary eyes. You open your arms in an invitation and he collapses into you, bursting into tears. “’m sorry,” he stutters out between sobs. “I—I didn’ mean it. I... ‘m so s—sorry, (Y/N).”

You cry too, holding him tight against you. “I know, baby,” you whisper, voice breaking. “I know.”

---

Spencer’s mostly nonverbal for his intake process. Whether it’s by choice or not is something you’re unsure of. In a private room a few hallways away from the main ward, you’re introduced to the admissions supervisor, Susan, whose voice you recognize from the phone calls you’d made to get him into one of the beds here. You also meet Spencer’s new therapist, Lara. She has a kind face and seems to have a good sense of humor. You just hope Spencer will like her.

You’re both given paperwork to read through and sign, as he’s on your health insurance now. Naturally, he’s done with them before you’ve finished the first page. Susan is taken aback. “Oh. Um, sir, we do need you to actually read this paperwork,” she says.

Spencer folds his arms and stares down at the carpet. “I did.”

“He, uh, he can speed read,” you explain. She still looks skeptical, so you add, “I’m serious. He reread War and Peace on the drive here.”

He doesn’t talk again until everything’s in order and you’re given five minutes alone to say goodbye. “I don’t want to do this,” he whispers.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” you ask. When he nods, you pull at his arms gently until they relax and fall open, then take one of his hands and squeeze it. “I don’t want to, either. I’m so tired of being away from you. But...” You take a deep breath. “But I also don’t want to bury you. You know this is what you need, right?”

He shrugs, refusing to meet your eyes. You can’t quite tell what that means—whether he agrees but wishes that wasn’t the case, or if he’s only doing this to appease you. You hope it’s the former. While it’s a possibility that this might not work either way, you feel like that’s more likely to happen if he isn’t doing this for himself as well, if he doesn’t want to get better.

But it’s out of your hands now. All you can do is trust in the people here to take care of him and that they want what’s best for him.

You put your hand on his cheek and turn his head towards you, trying to get him to look at you. His words from that night run through your head—I really believed you loved me. When he glances up, you seize the moment.

“I love you, Spencer. So much. If there’s just one thing you can trust in right now, please let it be that,” you plead.

He sniffles and you think you see a nod from him, but you can’t be sure. And it hurts a bit—you’re not used to him not saying “I love you” back. You can’t dwell on that now, though. You’ve only got a few minutes left before you have to leave him.

You stand, pulling him up with you. “Can I hu—” you start, but you’re cut off by him lunging forward and clinging to you. You comfort him as best as you can, running one hand up and down his back and using the other to cradle the back of his head as he cries into your neck, muttering incomprehensible words against your skin.

When the door opens, his entire body tenses against you. “Spencer,” you say gently, trying to stop your voice from wavering too much. “You have to let go now.”

He doesn’t budge. If anything, he holds onto you tighter. “Baby—“ you start.

“No,” he says suddenly, his voice louder than you’ve heard it in days. “No, I can’t—I won’t—”

Before you know it, he’s twisted around to stand behind you. You open and close your mouth a few times, startled and unsure what to say. “Spencer, what—what’s wrong?”

“No,” he repeats, shaking his head. “I can’t do it again. I—I won’t.” Then he starts to rub at one of his eyes in the way you’ve seen so many times since he came home from prison and it hits you—he feels like he’s getting locked up again.

A glance at the door shows expressions of sympathy on Susan and Lara’s faces. What with the “war on drugs” sending addicts to prison, this probably isn’t the first time they’ve seen a reaction like this.

You doubt any of their previous patients were framed for murder and had their mother kidnapped by a vengeful psychopath, though.

Spencer’s entire body is trembling when you look back at him, and it’s not from the lingering withdrawal symptoms. It’s heartbreaking, but it only affirms your belief that he needs to be here. It’s clear that he can’t tolerate what he feels and what he knows without turning to self-destructive coping mechanisms.

“Take me home,” he whimpers. “Take me home, please. I want to go home.”

You swallow hard. “I can’t.”

“But they’re gonna hurt me,” he cries. “They’re gonna hurt me because I hurt them; don’t you care if I get hurt?”

You think you know what he’s talking about. You don’t know the details—Spencer wouldn’t let Emily or JJ tell you—but you do know he was hurt in prison by the other inmates. You had seen the bruises yourself. And then you’d heard that some of the inmates were poisoned. He’s a graduate chemist—you’d put it together. You don’t know why he did it, but you assume that he hadn’t had much of a choice.

“They’re not here, Spencer.” You try to stop him from scratching so hard at his eyes, but he flinches at your touch. “They’re not here; they can’t hurt you anymore,” you repeat instead.

Lara comes up to your side. “Let us take care of him, okay?”

Oh, but you don’t want to. Spencer’s so upset and you can’t bear the thought of leaving him like this, not when all you want to do is hold him and never let go. It’s what you’ve wanted since the moment he stepped out of Millburn. But isn’t this the whole point of bringing him here? You can’t help him on your own. You have to let him go.

When Lara coaxes you to take a step back, Spencer makes the most awful, wounded noise. “Don’t leave me, please,” he begs. “Don’t leave me again.”

You press the back of your hand to your mouth to hold back a sob. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” you manage to say. “And I’ll visit you as soon as I can.”

“No, it’s not o—okay,” he protests, his voice breaking. “It’s not—I—” He presses his hands into his eyes and backs up until he’s in the corner. He drops to the floor and curls up, hugging his knees to his chest and burying his face in them.

Susan is able to get you to take a few more steps back; Lara takes a step forward, in Spencer’s direction.

“Um, don’t—don’t touch him,” you stutter out, desperate to help somehow. “It’ll—it’ll just make it worse.”

“I won’t,” she assures you. And she doesn’t—instead she sits on the floor several feet away from him; not close enough to be threatening but not far enough that he’d be completely unaware of her presence. It makes you feel a little better, because that’s what you do for him at home.

You let Susan guide you out of the room and to the entrance. “He’ll be okay,” she tells you as you walk. “This isn’t the first time something like this has happened, and Lara’s fantastic. It’s actually a good opportunity to start building therapeutic rapport.”

You just nod as she talks, not quite listening to what she’s saying. You just keep thinking of his face when you took a step away from him, and how small his voice sounded. It’s a storm of emotions inside of you, but among them is... relief. You don’t have to worry about keeping him safe anymore.

Leaving him in that room, terrified, surrounded by people he doesn’t know, is one of the hardest things you’ve ever done. You just hope it will be worth it.

---

It’s Spencer’s thirty-sixth birthday. You have the day off, but the alarm still sounds early in the morning. You rub your eyes and stretch, trying to shake off the sleepiness. You were up late last night, looking through the entire apartment just one more time for anything you could have missed.

It’s something you’ve done half a dozen times since he was admitted. You haven’t found any needles or Dilaudid since the first time, but you keep doing it anyways. For some reason, when you were feeling anxious about... well, everything, it would calm you down.

You can’t stop yourself from checking once more before you leave to pick him up—though not as thoroughly since you don’t have the time. You just check his hiding places—the desk drawer with the false bottom, the pair of socks he hates that stay in the back of his sock drawer, the gun safe (he’d told you the code years ago just in case and hasn’t changed it since, more worried about you being in danger and needing it than you finding things he doesn’t want you to), and the two hollowed out books at the back of two different bookshelves.

You want to believe that even if there were anything there, he wouldn’t go looking for it anymore, but you aren’t there yet. He’s been in treatment just shy of six weeks, and it’s been up and down. Two steps forward has always seemed to be accompanied by one step back.

While he usually thrived on routine, the enforced structure of the treatment facility would remind him of Millburn multiple times a day. It took the better part of two weeks for him to adjust to it. The first time you visited him, he had curled up in your arms and cried about it, saying that he was barely sleeping because he didn’t feel safe and that he just wanted to go home.

It didn’t help that he didn’t get along with his roommate. Spencer found him to be too loud, complaining to you multiple times that he always wanted to talk during quiet time. Apparently he was also working on his GED, and would constantly ask him for answers to his homework. “I wouldn’t mind helping him, but he just wants me to give him the answers instead,” he’d told you. So Spencer had just tried to ignore him.

But his patience had finally snapped a few weeks ago when his roommate drank both his own and Spencer’s shampoo in a suicide attempt, because he’d “read somewhere that shampoo was toxic.” Spencer had yelled at him, calling him a “fucking idiot”, among other things (they were promptly separated). His roommate was fine in the end—he just threw up a lot. But he was permanently moved to a different room, to both you and Spencer’s relief.

Spencer had a meltdown the next night, though, when it was time to shower. He had been given replacement shampoo from the treatment center’s supplies, but he didn’t like the smell and couldn’t stand the texture, so he’d refused to take a shower. That then resulted in him losing points for not following the structure. (Points were given for good behavior and meeting goals, and were mainly how privileges were earned.)

Naturally, Spencer had protested that this wasn’t fair, that it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t have shampoo that he could use. He’d been told that these were the rules, and he wouldn’t be given an exception. In response, Spencer had thrown the shampoo across the room, thrown himself onto his bed, buried his head under his pillow, and refused to talk to anyone.

But that night ended up marking a turn for the better in his treatment. He hadn’t responded when shift change happened and one of the night staff, Matt, checked in on him—in fact, he hadn’t moved at all. When he’d said, “tell me if there’s anything I can do to help you feel better”, Spencer had had no intention of taking him up on it.

A couple of hours later, though, when everything was quiet and he couldn’t sleep because he felt sticky and dirty from not showering, he wandered out into the commons area, holding his favorite blanket from home around himself. When asked what he needed, he’d shrugged, because he didn’t know what he needed, besides his old shampoo, and there wasn’t much to be done about that at midnight.

“I heard you had a rough time this evening,” Matt had said.

Spencer nodded absently, looking at everything but the two of them sitting on the couches.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head.

“Okay,” Matt had replied. “Well, you can sit out here with us for a little while if you want. How’s ten minutes sound?”

Spencer had shrugged again, but sat down on the corner of the couch, pulling his legs up against his chest. He pressed his nose into the fabric of the blanket and breathed in deeply. He’d held off on washing it since got here because it smelled like you. It was comforting, and he felt himself relax some. Then, without thinking about it consciously, he opened his mouth... and talked.

He started with the shampoo incident. His voice had raised an octave and hot tears stung his eyes as he talked about how much he hated the replacement shampoo and how he felt that he was being treated unfairly by people who didn’t understand why it bothered him so much. And then he had just... kept going. He didn’t talk about specifics—he said he was framed and wrongly incarcerated, then went straight to everything that had happened since he got home. He talked about losing his job and his first relapse because of that. He talked about how he couldn’t seem to stop going back. He talked about your ultimatum and his two weeks living out of his car.

When he finally stopped, he was breathing heavily and exhausted, but he felt... lighter. It was like the dam burst. The next morning, he started talking, really talking, to his therapist. When you came by that evening to bring him new shampoo, he’d told you all about what had happened, sparing no detail. To say it shocked you was an understatement—he hadn’t been so open with you since Mexico.

The two weeks since had gone well. There were a few bumps, but otherwise he was improving, and he’d been able to earn a day visit for his birthday.

Spencer looks... good when you see him. He’s fully dressed, wearing the cardigan he knows you like the best, and it no longer looks baggy on him. He’d come back from prison a little underweight, and it had only gotten worse since. But he’s been steadily gaining it back here thanks to sobriety and regular meals. He’s got his satchel across his shoulder but he isn’t clinging to it protectively and the way he rocks up on the balls of his feet appears to be excited rather than nervous. It looks like he may have even run a brush through his hair for once.

Then he sees you, and the smile that spreads across his face... he looks like himself again. Your smile back is so big that it probably looks goofy, but you don’t care.

He hugs you as soon as you’re close enough. It’s tight, but he’s not clinging to you like you’ve grown accustomed to over the past six weeks, which you think can only be a good thing—he’s not feeling insecure or unsafe anymore.

“Happy birthday,” you say. “You look really nice.”

“Really?” he asks. “Because I got up a little early to get ready, but I didn’t shave since I’d have to check out my razor and that’s a hassle, and if you don’t like it, that’s fine. I’m not really sure myself—”

“Spencer, I don’t mind the facial hair at all,” you interrupt. “You look great. I mean it.”

He glances away shyly, his cheeks turning a little pink. “Thanks,” he murmurs.

You both sign the checkout paperwork and head out. Spencer insists on holding your hand the entire time. When you get to the car and start to let go, he tightens his grip instead and pulls you closer to him. “(Y/N).”

“Yes?”

He hesitates just slightly before placing his other hand on your cheek. “Can I kiss you?” he asks softly.

You blink, realizing that it’s been a long while since you’ve kissed. And just like that, you’re aching for his lips on yours. “Please do.”

Spencer lets your hand go then. Cradling your head in both of his hands now, he leans in and kisses you so gently. You soak it in, feeling warm inside as something you didn’t realize you were missing returns to you. When he pulls back, he looks more at peace than you’ve seen him in months.

You just look at each other for a bit. Eventually, you place a kiss on his cheek and say, “We should go before we get in trouble for loitering.”

He wants to hold your hand whenever he can on the drive home, and you let him. He tells you how his week has been going—someone in his group therapy is graduating the program in a few days, and they’ve started a new project in art therapy. You knew about the art project already, since he’d spent half of his phone time on Monday telling you how much he didn’t want to make a pottery project because he can’t stand how the clay feels on his hands when it dries. But you’ve always loved to listen to him talk, so you don’t remind him of this.

As you’re getting off the freeway fifteen minutes later, you tap the back of his hand twice to signal that you have something to say. He pauses in his infodump about the history of pottery so you can speak. “I’ve got a few presents for you at home, but I was thinking we could go to the bookstore and you can pick out some more things?”

He makes a happy humming noise. “That sounds great! There’s something I want to read up on.”

He veers off to the nonfiction section when you enter his favorite bookstore; you idly browse your favorite section as you wait. When he returns to your side, he’s holding a stack of five books, all on the same subject.

“Horses,” you say.

He nods enthusiastically, his hair bouncing. “I’m starting an equine therapy program next week.”

“Oh, that’s cool. I hope it goes well.” You don’t know much about horse therapy—seems like that’s going to be what you read about on your phone in bed tonight while you wait for sleep to come.

Spencer’s quiet on the car ride home, content to flip through his new books. He doesn’t notice when you park the car; you have to touch his arm to get his attention.

“What?” he asks without taking his eyes off of the full color spread of a mustang in his lap.

“We’re home,” you point out. With how many times he’s told you he wants to go home in the past weeks, you expect him to be excited, but he’s not. He tenses when he looks up and sees the building in front of you. “What’s wrong, Spencer?”

“Um...” He fiddles with the book’s dust jacket. “There’s... there’s not a surprise party waiting for me inside, is there?”

“Oh. No, there’s not. Just a few balloons and little banner. You, uh...” you wince a little as something occurs to you. “You weren’t wanting one, were you?”

“Absolutely not,” he immediately replies.

You chuckle a little at his certainty. “Well, good. Because I had a hell of a time convincing Penelope not to throw you a birthday party, and I don’t know if she’d ever forgive me if it turned out I was wrong and you did, in fact, want a party.”

That gets a small laugh out of him; your heart leaps at the sound. It’s been far too long since you’ve heard that.

He seems a little apprehensive as you unlock the front door, and when he walks in, he stays standing on the living room rug for a while, his eyes traveling from one side of the room to another, looking over everything. “It looks the same,” he says eventually.

“Were you expecting it not to be?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he answers, running his fingers across one of the seams of his satchel. “It’s not that I thought you would change anything, it’s more like... I feel so much different than I did the last time I was here that it’s kind of strange to see that everything’s just like I remember it.”

You’re reminded of the last time he was standing still in the living room like this, stick-thin, dirty, and trembling from withdrawals. “Different in a good way, I hope,” you say, nervously fussing with the pile of presents on the coffee table.

He gives you a small smile. “Yes, in a good way,” he affirms softly. He notices the presents and scrunches his eyebrows. “I thought you said you only had a few presents here.”

“Most of these are from the team,” you explain. “Emily brought them by last night. They had to fly out this morning, but she wanted you to have them on your birthday.”

“Oh.” He raises his hand and it looks like he might rub at his eye but he presses his knuckles to his mouth instead. You can’t really tell what’s going on in his mind. You figure his feelings towards his team are complicated. On the one hand, they got him out of the prison, and he’s known some of them for over a decade. On the other, he wasn’t allowed to rejoin the BAU and the whole experience had made him feel humiliated. You think he wants to see them, but he also doesn’t; he’s stuck in the middle and can’t decide.

Either way, it doesn’t matter today. It’s his birthday and you want him to have a good one, so you redirect his attention. You sit on the couch and pat the spot next to you. “Will you show me your new books?”

The corners of his mouth turn up and he pads across the floor towards you. “Yeah. So, here’s what I’ve learned so far....”

The day continues in much the same fashion—quiet and laidback as you simply enjoy each other’s company. Once he shows you all of the books, you move on to the TV, catching up on the episodes of Doctor Who you’ve both missed (you didn’t want to watch it without him). You order his favorite takeout for dinner, after which you bring out his dessert—half a dozen chocolate frosting and sprinkles donuts arranged in a circle around two candles displaying 36.

“You know, it’s not really sanitary to blow all over food before sharing it,” he says.

You roll your eyes fondly. “We go over this every year. We kiss; I’m not worried about your mouth germs.”

“But it’s not just my “mouth germs”,” he corrects, making air quotes with his fingers. “It involves the entire respiratory track, so—”

“Spencer, as always, it’s a risk I’m willing to take,” you interrupt. You’ve heard this explanation before. “Now make a wish.”

He takes a moment to ponder it, then blows the candles out. You put the plate down and hand him a napkin. “We’re not going to be able to eat all of these before I have to go back,” he says, but the way he bites eagerly into the first one nearly makes you question that.

He gets through two; you only eat one, mostly full from dinner. He wants to go lay down on the bed after, “so we have more room to cuddle”. And cuddle he does, pressing as much of his body to yours as he can. One of your hands settles in his hair automatically. “Did you have a good day?” you ask, running your fingers through it.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Obviously this situation is not ideal,” you start carefully. “But I’m just so happy that you’re still... well, around for your birthday.”

Spencer turns his head into the fabric of your shirt and breathes in deeply. “Me, too,” he says quietly on the exhale.

You lay together in silence for a while, and you savor the feeling of having him in bed next to you again. Sleeping alone wasn’t anything new in your relationship, as his job took him around the country. You’d gotten used to it for the most part, but every night he wasn’t with you because he was in prison was just plain awful. After, you had him back for six weeks, then it became sporadic again as he started using. It’s been so much easier to sleep since he went into treatment, but you still miss sharing the bed with him terribly.

You look at your phone briefly to check the time. “We’ve got about three hours until we have to start heading back. I’m happy to stay like this, but we still have time to do something else if you want to.”

All he says verbally is, “okay”, but the way he squirms against you tells you that he does have something on his mind.

“Just let me know if you do,” you say gently; you don’t want him to feel pressured into speaking. Plus you’re content to lay here playing with his hair and listening to his breathing.

“Well, there is something,” he admits after a few minutes.

He doesn’t continue, so you say, “Okay. What is it?”

He sighs and sits up. “It’s... it’s nothing bad, or—or even that big of a deal, really. At least, it shouldn’t be.”

You push yourself up into a sitting position next to him. “Well, why don’t you tell me so I can help?” you ask. “I can tell that it’s bothering you.”

“That’s exactly the point. It shouldn’t be bothering me,” Spencer complains. “Because I really want to do it. It’s just...”

You put your hand on his back and run it up and down to try and comfort him. You don’t say anything; you just give him time to get the words out.

He takes a deep breath. “I want to have sex,” he says. “I really do, I’m just... not entirely sure I’m... ready yet.”

“Oh.”

It’s not where you expected the conversation to go, because it’s something that hasn’t really been in your life at all since Mexico. He’d... taken care of you a few times during those first six weeks, but hadn’t let you return the favor. Each time he had scurried off to the bathroom and run a cold shower before you could even touch the waistband of his pants. Then on the night he came back to you, you had been helping him undress since his hands were trembling so much. When you unbuttoned his pants, he had breathed in sharply and frantically pushed your hands away.

Clearly something had happened to him, but he’d never even alluded to anything of the sort. And that was okay—you didn’t need to know. You just wished you knew how to help.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s stupid,” he says, running his hands down his face.

“Oh, baby, no,” you soothe. “It’s not stupid at all.”

He just shakes his head. “You deserve more than this.”

“I don’t know about that. But,” you continue, pushing his hair back so you can see his face better, “I do know what I want, and what I want is you.”

Spencer chews on his bottom lip, doubt clouding his eyes. “Look at me,” you implore. He meets your gaze hesitantly and you take his face in your hands.

“I love you, Spencer Reid. And nothing is going to change that.”

His eyes grow wet. He sniffles once, then lunges forward, capturing your lips with his own. You kiss him back just as passionately, holding onto him as tight as he is to you. It may have been a long time since you kissed at all until this morning, but it’s been even longer since he’s kissed you like this.

“Love you, too, (Y/N),” he mumbles against your lips when he pulls back to take a breath.

You press your forehead to his with a happy sigh. But he’s only content to stay like that for a few moments. He bumps your nose with his and tugs slightly on your shirt, requesting permission to kiss you again. You’d love to do that, and you’d love to do more than that, too, but you don’t want him to rush into something he’s not truly ready for.

“You know what we could do?” you ask, running your hand through the curls on the back of his neck.

Spencer’s eyes keep flicking between yours and your lips. “What?”

“A good old-fashioned high school make out,” you say, smiling at him softly. “And I’ll keep my hands above your waist.”

When he visibly relaxes, you know it’s the right decision. “I’d like that,” he says quietly. “I mean, I never kissed anyone when I was in high school, but I get the idea.”

The shy look he gives you before climbing onto your lap reminds you so much of how he was when you first started dating. He’s still there, your Spencer, the Spencer you fell in love with. You never truly thought he was gone, but there were plenty of moments of doubt, moments when you wondered if he’d ever be able to pull himself out of the wreckage, out of the grip of trauma. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t do it for him.

As it turns out, he could. He can.

It’s far from over. He still has a long way to go. You both do. But for the first time since the day he came home from prison, a return to normal seems possible.

It won’t be the same as it was before. He’s always going to be a little different. But... that doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing.

He kisses you, and it feels like it used to, full of respect, adoration, trust, and love. It feels like Spencer.

Despite everything, it’s still him.

---------------

tell me what you thought here!

if you made it this far, thank you so much for reading. this was very much a personal work but i decided to share it anyways because why the hell not, i'm proud of it. the next chapter will explore horse therapy, a treatment i did and loved, among other things.

i'd like to encourage you please seek this kind of help if you think need it. i see how it changes lives every day at work and it changed my own as well. there's no shame in getting the treatment you need, whatever that may be. recovery is worth it.

if you’re interested in learning more about trauma and the treatment of it, i cannot recommend the book The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk, M.D., enough. it was my favorite book i read last year and i referred back to it several times while writing this.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid #angst #my fic #the shampoo incident is something that actually happened on one of my shifts last august #and yet that's not the craziest thing that's happened while i've been at work lol #don't drink shampoo kids #tw substances #tw suicide

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