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#I didn’t even read the article but LOOK AT THE SIGNS
psychedelic-ink · 6 months
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𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍
body piercer!joel miller x f!reader
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genre: explicit smut, minors dni, modern au, no outbreak au
word count: 4.7k
summary: you finally go and get your nipples pierced.
warnings: reader has tattoos & has flat/small nipples which is the only physical description in this fic, nipple play, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, joel miller with a tongue piercing, lots of teasing, sexual tension, tattoo kink??? joel is really into them
a/n: this fic literally wouldn't exist if not for @swiftispunk's fic flesh and metal after reading it and screaming about it (and also reading articles about it) this fic was born, enjoy xx
special thanks to @johnwatsn for the beta! 💞
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It’s late. The faint buzz of the neon sign is loud in your ears, taunting, mocking you for just staring inside instead of going in. Your face is illuminated with a red hue, the words BODY PIERCING burning into your irises. And despite the tacky neon sign, the inside looks quite clean. You would know, you’ve been stalking their Instagram page for a while now. 
There’s no one inside and you’re contemplating whether or not you should just get on with it. The idea of getting your nipples pierced had been a vague thought until recently. You desperately needed a change, you wanted something new and exciting. You wanted to feel sexy again. Your ex had certainly done a decent amount of damage to your self-esteem and that, plus your already low view of yourself, did not help your brain to see the good of you. 
So many things could go wrong, you’ve read multiple articles about it. Your body might reject the piercing, it might leave a scar, irritate it. . . 
G Suddenly, a brisk burst of frigid air gently caresses your cheeks, causing you to instinctively step back. Your gaze swiftly shifts from the interior of the shop to the door, where you notice that someone has just opened it, allowing the chilly air from the air conditioning inside to spill out.
Joel Miller, the shop's number one body piercer. Your cheeks burn, your pulse quickens, the sound of it flooding your ears. He’s tall and broad, his brown eyes staring at you with utter amusement. As you continue to just blatantly stare at him, he cocks his head to the side with a crooked smile. 
“I’m closin’ in half an hour, sweetheart. If you’re thinkin’ of comin’ in, I’d do it now.” 
“O–Oh,” you swallow thickly. “I can come back tomorrow if you’re closing up, sorry to bother you.” 
He raises an eyebrow, his smile falling, “Well, I didn’t quite say that, now, did I?” Come on in, darlin’. Tell me what you need.” 
Tell him what you need—your heart beats in your throat, the lazy drawl of his words going directly between your legs. You mentally curse at yourself. How touch-starved are you? He’s just being polite. You’re the customer, it would’ve been weird if he just shooed you away. 
Joel takes a step to the side, silently granting permission for you to enter. You stroll past him, making your way inside without uttering a word. The air conditioning is a blessing on your sweat-soaked skin. Even though you don’t have to, you briefly look at your surroundings. Just like your research had entailed, the shop was squeaky clean. 
“So,” Joel clears his throat. “What can I do you for, sweetheart?” 
Some part of you wishes that he could just understand without you having to form the words. You lick the back of your teeth, suddenly it’s very hard to breathe. 
“I. . . wanted to get my nipples pierced—if that’s okay?” 
“Of course, it is,” he smiles, much softer compared to his crooked smirk from before. “I’m Joel by the way,” he extends his hand and you take it with a sigh of relief, you feel much lighter now— 
“I know.” 
Your eyes go wide, both your hands stopping mid-shake. Joel’s amused glance is back again, his smile stretching into a grin, “You know?” 
“I mean—well, I did research before I came here,” you answer quickly, aggressively almost, and release his hand. His grin only wides, a puff of air escaping his nostrils. “So that’s how I know your name.” 
“Aren’t you the cautious one,” he turns on his heel and points towards the back. “If you’re set on what you want we can just head inside, I can explain the rest there.” 
“Sure.” 
Just as you both take a step you remember what you initially wanted to ask before going through with it and stop. Joel senses your lack of movement, turning around, you notice the furrow between his brow. “I actually wanted to ask something before we went on with it.” 
“I’m all ears.” 
Oh god, this is embarrassing, “So. . . my nipples are. . .flat—or is it more proper to call it small? I don’t know. Would that be an issue?” 
The glimmer in his eyes returns full force, his expression of worry melting away, “I’ve never met a nipple I couldn’t pierce,” he teases. “So no need to worry that pretty head of yours.” 
“Do you sweet talk with all your clients?” you ask, your lips twitching into a smile. You don’t know what it is, but you feel comfortable with him. Maybe it’s because you’ve been stalking his shop for so long. Either way, it’s a nice feeling. 
“Only with the ones that know my name before I meet them.” His eyes gradually move up and down your body, eating you up. His tongue darts out and swipes over his bottom lip. You notice the faint shimmer that belongs to a silver tongue piercing. “And the ones that’ve been starin’ into my shop for least an hour.” 
Joel takes a step closer and you feel your breath dissipating from your lungs. Dark, charcoal eyes sweep across your face. Your heartbeat is like a fearful hummingbird, hitting the bone cage in rapid succession. You swallow. By some miracle, you hold his gaze. 
“You ready to go, little rabbit?” 
All the tension drains from your bones and you burst out laughing, “Rabbit?” you giggle, your amusement only growing when you see his wide smile. “What the hell?” 
“There’s that pretty smile,” he hums, pulling back. Joel stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Now that you’re relaxed we can get to business. We can stop whenever, so don’t feel pressured when you’re in the chair. You can just leave.” 
You nod along as you follow him inside. You’re relieved when you see that it’s a spacious room with bright lighting that doesn’t irritate your eyes. 
“First things first, let's pick out the piercing.” Joel walks towards one of the small glass cases and pulls out one of the drawers. Your excitement builds as he presents them to you. “Any ticklin’ your fancy?” 
The light above gleams against the glass, there are so many and for a split second, you want them all. You never thought you would be labeling piercings as pretty. Looking them over, you decide you definitely want barbells instead of hoops. Now the question is which barbell one do you want? 
“So many,” you mutter, eyes scanning over them again and again. You see one that says ‘cum here’ on each heart-shaped barbell. There’s a couple of them that say different things; kiss here, bite me, lick me— a shudder rolls down your spine. Your mind instantly fills with indecent thoughts, most of them staring at the man still patiently holding the glass case. You bite the inside of your cheek. 
You bet he has the most skillful tongue—
“Oh, that one!” you exclaim suddenly, pointing at one in the shape of a heart. It’s decorated in shimmering rhinestones, the metal gold. When he inserts it, the heart would be framing your nipple. “It’s so cute.” 
“You like shiny things, huh?” he smiles. “You gotta good eye, it’ll look good on you.” 
Your breath catches in your throat, “Thanks.” 
“Now lay on the bed, darlin’.” 
It takes you a second to realize he’s talking about the piercing bed. You’re about to lay on it before he stops you with a raised hand. “Take off your top.” 
“Most guys buy me dinner first.” 
“Har har very funny,” he rolls his eyes but he’s smiling, which in return makes you lightheaded. The expression is like a drug and you want to see more of it. More and more and more. “Besides, if you have a flat nipple I’m gonna need to stimulate it.” 
“Excuse me?” 
Joel is unaware of your blundering, he arranges the fresh, disposable drape and sterile forceps, placing it on the small portable workstation, “If you’re uncomfortable with that I can use the suction device too,” he answers nonchalantly. You watch breathlessly as he pulls on his black rubber gloves and finally turns to you. He raises an eyebrow. “Why’s your top still on?” 
“I—I just wasn’t aware nipple play was involved.” 
“You do realize where you’re gettin’ pierced right?” his lips twitch up. “You’re not drunk, are you sweetheart?” 
“Very funny,” you answer, mimicking his tone from before. “But anyway, okay, I guess I’m just a bit nervous.” 
“Understandable,” you point towards the endless draws. “Want me to get the suction device?” 
“God, no,” you let out a low chuckle. “Your fingers are just fine.” 
“Never had any complaints before.” 
Your stomach jumps, arousal caressing your skin similar to a summer breeze. The darkness in his eyes is back, his gaze intense and nerve-wracking. 
“Will it hurt?” you mumble. 
“I ain’t gonna lie so yeah, it will.” 
“How much?” 
“Depends, really.” 
Your shoulders drop. 
“Mine didn’t hurt that bad, to be honest, but my pain tolerance is quite high,” he mutters to himself rather than to you. He follows up with another sentence, probably something to soothe your worry but your brain is locked on to something very specific he just said. 
“You have nipple piercings?” you ask incredulously. “Really?” 
“I do, though it was more of a bet kind of situation. My brother loooves causing me trouble,” he sighs and crosses his arms over the expanse of his chest. “But joke’s on him because I liked how they looked so I kept them.” 
“Can. . . Can I see?” 
“You gonna be a good girl and keep still when I pierce you?” Joel teases. You nod furiously, lips pressed tightly together. “A’right then.” He curls his fingers into the hem of his shirt and lifts it. Your eyes are glued to his chest—his entire torso. You see the way a soft trail of draw hair starts from his bellybutton and disappears under his jeans, you see the soft swell of his stomach, the muscle—your eyes move up, you finally see his nipples, pierced, just like he said, with silver barbells. You lean closer, your ass at the very edge of the piercing bed. 
Joel suddenly drops his shirt, hiding away, he shrugs, “Nothin’ fancy, but still, I like’em,” saying that, he takes a seat on his chair and sways a bit thanks to the wheels underneath.
“Do—” you lick the back of your teeth. “Do they make it more sensitive?” 
His smirk makes your heart skip a beat, “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he points to your shirt. “Now off.” 
Without a word, you peel off your shirt and unhook your bra. Joel’s eyes widen momentarily, his breath hitching at the sight of your bare torso. You’re confused for a moment. Surely, in his line of work, he’s seen many tits before— 
Then you realize he’s staring at your tattoos. 
You don’t have many, though you guess compared to others you do have many. Joel’s gaze lingers on your chest piece, two hands reaching towards each other with the sun and moon in between, decorating the dip between your breasts without going too deep. The blood rush of your body fills your ears, and your lips part with a gasp, his eyes instantly snap to your lips. You see the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. 
“Didn’t know you were tattooed, darlin’.” 
“You like tattoos?” you ask, your voice hoarse and barely there. “I have more on my back.” 
You swear his pupils dilate, “I’d love to see them after. If you’ll let me.” 
“Sure,” you answer with a weak smile. “I don’t see a reason not to.” 
He wheels closer, eyes dropping to your breasts. You look away. Your cheeks feel unreasonably warm despite the air conditioning running. Goosebumps blossom over every patch of skin. His mouth is too close, the warmth of his breath fans your chest, a pleasant tingle echoing over your breasts. 
You’ve always felt a bit awkward about your nipples. They always seemed silly compared to your breast size, especially when you started seeing other nipples. 
“I’m gonna touch you now,” he says softly, dragging you away from your thoughts. “I’m gonna massage it a bit to work it out, a’right?” 
You nod and hold your breath simultaneously. He does your right nipple first. Just like he said, he massages the flesh closest to your nipple, easing it out. It feels good, undeniably so. The pads of his fingers work delicately. Deep down you wish he didn’t have to wear the gloves. Your body aches for his heat, his bare touch on your naked skin. Joel pinches a bit hard and you flinch, he mumbles an apology. You don’t have it in you to tell him that it didn’t actually hurt, rather, it felt good. 
Soft whimpers threaten to escape your lips so you bite into the bottom one, hard. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to regulate your breathing with deep inhales. His thumb swipes over your, now hard, nipple. “There we go,” he says. 
You don’t open your eyes. Pain blossoms from the flesh of your lips, you feel them starting to swell. 
“Hey,” Joel’s hand cups the side of your face, then you feel his thumb easing out your lips from between your teeth. “You’re gonna hurt yourself like that. Are you okay?” 
How are you supposed to tell him that you’re just turned on? That this has been the most action you’ve had in months? 
“I’m okay,” you answer. His brows furrow in disbelief and you can’t really blame him. You let out a long sigh. “I’m fine, I promise. I just got a little worked up.” 
“Worked up?” His smile is back and in response, you want to bury your head in the sand. “What d’you mean?” 
His hand slides to your waist, squeezing it gently. You stick your bottom lip out. “You know what I mean.” 
“Hmmm, maybe,” his voice drips with cruel teasing, his thumb begins to draw lazy circles around your skin. You think he’s going to say something else but his gaze once again drops to your chest. “Looks like it disappeared, gonna need to work it out again.” 
You expect his fingers—maybe for him to pinch a bit harder this time. 
What you don’t expect, however, is his burning mouth on your cold skin. 
“Oh, fuck—” you gasp, your body instinctively arching towards him. He groans as a response, taking more of you into his mouth. His tongue flicks your peaked nipple. You feel his teeth nipping the tender flesh and you gasp once more, a sharp moan rattling in your throat. 
His eyes look up at you, momentarily he parts away, his lips are swollen, spit glistening at his lips, “This okay?” 
“Yes.” 
And he continues to devour you. 
Your fingers bite into the leather bed, he laps at the pebbled flesh, purposefully rubs the tongue piercing into it. The sudden hardness of metal makes you jump and then melt into it, he repeats the movement of his tongue again and again, swirling it until your thighs start to shake. His hands briefly move to your tattoo, thick fingers dancing along the ink. 
“So sensitive,” he murmurs, directing his attention to your other nipple. He flicks at it first then closes his lips around it. Your underwear is sticky with slick, your legs in constant motion to relieve some of the tension from your throbbing clit. He cups your mound, presses his fingers into your clothed slit. “Be patient, I’m gettin’ there.” He sucks on your nipple and teases the other with his fingers, pinching and pulling them. 
“Won’t be able to do this when we pierce them,” he growls, teeth sinking into your nipple, he flicks his tongue over it. “And you better not let anyone else touch’em too.” 
Your head falls back with a groan. He flicks his tongue again when you grind into his palm, the friction not enough to quench your need for him. You grip his shoulder, urging him to move back. He does. You immediately feel guilty at the worry crossing his eyes. 
You grip his shirt, slightly sliding it up his stomach, “Can I see how sensitive you are?” 
A brush of color spreads from his neck to his cheeks. You smile. Red looks good on him. 
He stands up, the chair wheeling away. Joel is quick to discard his shirt and you’re glad that the piercing bed makes it so that you’re in perfect tasting range. You spread your legs wider as he comes closer, taking his place between them. His skin touches your own, his warmth overwhelming yet welcomed. 
You kiss his neck first. Then his collar bone, you suck on his skin, teasing the sensitive flesh with your teeth. He shudders. Slowly you make your way down, your thumbs push at the pierced nipples and he moans behind gritted teeth. Smiling sweetly at him, you swirl your tongue around one, playing with the other. Your tongue moves over the bead of the piercing, you tilt it which in return twists the nipple. Another tremble overwhelms him, his body curling around you even further. The outline of his cock is prominent through his jeans, his body impulsively grinding against your stomach. You moan at the hardness, and he moans at the pressure. 
“Fuck, that’s nice,” he rasps, hips jerking. “But let’s take care of you now, I bet your panties are soaked, darlin’.” 
Fuck, it is. 
Joel drags his lips down your cheek, he kisses your neck slowly, the metal on his tongue forcing a shudder up your spine and making you curious about how it’ll feel on your cunt. 
“Want to eat you out from behind, sweetheart, wanna see those tattoos.” 
His hands are a constant on your skin as you hop off the bed and bend over, he helps you with your jeans, reaching around and unbuttoning it for you. The fabric suddenly feels too tight on your skin and you need to get rid of it—now. 
The harsh fabric pools at your ankles and you kick them away. His fingers play with the elastic of your underwear, pulling and twisting. The heft of him rubs between the crease, thick cock straining against his zipper. You expect him to take off his jeans too. Your piercer is full of surprises, though, and instead of doing the predictable thing, he continues to roll his hips whilst tracing the pads of his fingers over tattoos. 
“Fuck, they’re beautiful, sweetheart,” he mumbles. His touch is ticklish, yet arousing at the same time. More slick gathers at the fabric. You’re desperate for his touch. By the movement of his fingers you guess which of them he’s stroking. First, it’s the fox that stretches over your spine, beams of sun framing its face. Then it’s the smoke-like lines that are closer to your shoulder and the other one near your hip. Joel can’t seem to get enough of it. His palms are flat against inky skin, trying to feel the thought of you while you got them. 
You gasp at the touch of soft lips and soft tongue. He licks a slow line up your spine, tracing over the fox and sunlight. By pure instinct you bend over further, your breasts completely pressed against the leather. You’ve never been more glad to have tattoos in your goddamn life—he’s worshipping them, the figures that adorn your skin. 
His velvet tongue is replaced by sharp teeth, your back arches, ass pressing further into his clothed cock. Joel trembles and follows your eager movements with another tender bite. 
“I love them,” he mouths over the inky smoke near your shoulder. “I love feeling you, touching you. I could just do this for hours. You feel amazin’ against my skin, my sweet little rabbit.” 
This time you don’t laugh at the absurd nickname. His name drips from your damp lips like honey, sweet to say and sticking to your tongue. 
His hand dips between your legs and his mouth moves down to your ass, he kisses the plump flesh as two fingers stroke you from over the fabric of your underwear. His groan reverberates on your skin, teeth skimming the flesh, “Fuck, you actually are soaked,” Joel hums and slips them under, gathering you around his fingers. “All this for me?” 
“Yes,” you gasp, raising your hips. “P-Please—”
Joel shushes you, “I know, sweetheart, I know,” he gets down to his knees and as he does, a small grunt leaves his lips. 
“Are you okay?” you ask. 
“Just fine,” he kisses your pussy and you’re instantly melting towards his mouth, a groan ripping from your throat. “A sacrifice I’m willin’ to make.” 
Joel doesn’t give you the chance to reply or offer to change positions, he slides your panties to the side, licking into you hungrily. You shudder and your upper body jolts, forming the perfect arch. He presses deeper. Licking and teasing your clit with the tip. He cups both sides of your ass and gives them a gentle smack. Your eyes roll at the mild pain, your slick coating his lips, tongue, and chin. The rough hairs of his beard chafe your skin, only adding to the pleasure. 
“Taste so good, beautiful,” Smack. “Gonna fuckin’ ruin you, make you come until there’s a goddamn puddle on the floor.” 
“Oh god—” you choke on air, a moan locking in your throat the same time you’re trying to gasp for air. His words and the swirl of his tongue are downright sinful. He flattens his tongue and parts your folds with the soft muscle, teasing your entrance. 
Joel pulls you back against him, his lips teaching your clit, your jaw drops, a jolt of pleasure rushing through you and tightening your nipples. It’s filthy, that’s all you can think. If someone walked through those doors right this instant, they would see his face between your cheeks, drinking from you like a man dying of thirst. 
Your head drops, mouth flooding with saliva, you roll your hips; begging, asking for more. He gives it to you. Two thick fingers slide into you with ease, his mouth leaving wet open-mouthed kisses on your ass. 
“Gonna come for me?” he asks, voice full of gravel. “Come on, give it to me, let me see how your pussy throbs, sweetheart.” 
He curls his fingers and you imagine him smirking as he breaks you apart. You cry out his name, your entire body shuddering as if lightning struck it, “That’s it, that’s it, that’s it. . .” He continues to thrust his fingers in and out, you feel yourself dripping, imagine yourself making a puddle just like he asked for. “Give it to me, honey. You’re fuckin’ beautiful, look at you. . .” 
Joel spreads you with his fingers and delves back into you, he draws circles around your clit, his jaw constantly moving with every lick. He doesn’t stop until he’s coaxing another orgasm out of you—your head fills with bliss, your body lifeless. 
When he’s done feasting, he slowly gets up with his hands sliding to your back. He leans down to pepper more kisses onto your tattoos, your skin tingling and singing at the contact. 
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmurs, lips sucking at your neck. “Then let’s get those pretty nipples pierced.” 
“W—What about you?” you ask breathlessly. 
Joel helps you sit back up on the bed, you part your legs so he can come closer, he accepts the invitation with a wide smile, “I have a feelin’ we’ll be seein’ more of each other, sweetheart. You can make it up to me then.” 
Your heart skips a beat and your lips part. 
You have a strong feeling that he’s right. 
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With gloved hands, Joel carefully opens a sterile needle package. You watch with rapt attention as he takes out the fresh needle, inspecting it. Your body is still thrumming with pleasure, your head still swimming in a daze. All you can hear is his breathing.
He had already walked you through everything while preparing for the procedure. No touching, no swimming. You had to clean them softly in the shower and that was meant to be the only source of water your nipples touch for a while. If there was any irritation or marks, you were to reach out immediately. 
Honestly, you found it cute that he’d gotten so serious all of a sudden. It was nice to see him so professional too, so competent. 
He comes closer and your body seizes. You hold your breath. With a sudden need to distract yourself, your eyes linger on to the walls. Your brows furrow in surprise when you notice the tattoo designs. You thought this was only a piercing shop. 
“You do tattoos too?” you ask nervously. 
“My brother does,” he answers. “He works the tattoo side of the business and I do the piercings.” 
“It’s nice that it’s in the family. . .” 
“Sweetheart, I know what you’re doin’. You’ll be fine I promise.” 
“Okay. I trust you mister man-I-just-met.” 
He grins, “You didn’t seem to have a problem with it ten minutes ago.” 
“Touché.” 
Joel prompts you to lay on the piercing table, he approaches you with a reassuring smile on his face. You can feel your heart racing as you nervously anticipate the pain of getting your nipples pierced, you imagine the worst, your heart beating in tune with your fear. 
He carefully cleans the area around your nipples and marks the spot where the piercing will go. He double-checks the placement with you to ensure you're happy with it. You give a slight nod, still feeling a bit apprehensive.
“Such a good girl for me,” he murmurs. “It’ll only hurt for a second.” 
With steady hands, Joel takes the needle. You feel a sharp pinch as it punctures through your skin, but the pain dissipates quickly. You let out a small whimper, “It’s okay, it’s okay, just a bit more,” he comforts you and you nod with a long exhale. 
After the needle is through, he quickly follows it with the jewelry, securing it in place. You watch in awe as he attaches the beautiful barbells to your nipples, the adrenaline and endorphins making the pain feel less than it is.
Once the piercings are in place, Joel gently cleans the blood before you can get a look.
“Aaand done, tell me what you think.” 
You’re surprised that he has a mirror in hand when you sit back up. Your gaze finds your reflection and an instant smile spreads across your face. 
“You like’em?” he asks, his tone shy. 
“Like them?” you gasp. “I love them! Thank you!” 
“Oh that’s a relief,” he leans back into the chair, slightly rolling away with a relieved smile. “No matter how many times I do it, I still get nervous.” 
“I definitely love them,” you say, you get up to wear your shirt but end up wincing at the sharp pain. You look at Joel between squinted eyes. “When did you say the pain would stop again?” 
“It’s gonna take a while,” he answers with a sympathetic smile. “You don’t know how much your nipples touch stuff until you get’em pierced.” 
“Well, at least they look good.” 
He shoots you a wink, “They sure do, little rabbit.” 
“That nickname is still ridiculous.” 
“Should I remind you that the last time I used it you came on my tongue?” 
“Nope no reminder needed,” you put your shirt back on, smiling. “I’m still going through the aftershocks.” 
“Good,” he stands with you, hands on your waist, he pulls you as close as he can without your nipples touching his chest. “So, you wanna go out?” Joel’s gaze drops to your chest and he licks his lips, “Gotta make sure you’re takin’ care of them properly.” 
“My hero.” 
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mockerycrow · 9 months
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Emergency Contact (2/2) (Ghost x GN!Reader)
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-> PART ONE OF EMERGENCY CONTACT
Summary: You never expected Simon to come to your aid, and Simon assures you that he would come every single time.
A/N: I genuinely appreciate the support of this concept <3 I truly did not expect so many people to want a part two, so here it is! please rb with what you think, i love to hear y’all’s thoughts! i’m honestly not the happiest with this, but i did what i could. i may rewrite this in the future.
[WARNINGS: Hospital setting, fluff, hurt/comfort, medical inaccuracies, ooc Simon.]
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IT TAKES YOU FOUR DAYS to wake up. Four entire days for you to even move an eye muscle. Four days of anxiety, of Simon lying in wait, waiting for sign of life. Despite the doctors’ assurances of your condition, the confirmed brain activity, Simon was panicking.
He just couldn’t lose you, too. Not when he has such a great thing going for him, so when he learns you’re in a mini coma—induced by your own body to allow your body to rest and heal, he can’t help but freak out. His mind screaming that you’ll never wake up, that you’ll always by lying in a hospital bed, until someone in your family decides to come and pull the plug. He tried to keep himself preoccupied—he read books and articles on his phone, memorized each time the nurses came in to check your vitals, he even texted Price an update about his situation—it wasn’t much information, but he said something along the lines of something happened at home and he thinks his leave with have to be for a month, but there’s a good chance it might be longer.
Simon barely left the room—he couldn’t. Not when at any moment you could wake up, or any moment you could’ve died. He didn’t manage much sleep, either. Every time he managed to fall asleep, the same nightmare would play; what he imagined how your accident went. He imagined you walking down on the sidewalk towards the crosswalk down a street you both frequented together. You were always careful when walking—he knew you were having car troubles for the last few weeks. You press the button on the crosswalk pole to trigger the lights to turn red. Cars slow to a stop, and your crosswalk signs turns to a walking man. You quickly hurry across the crosswalk, but a car comes speeding down—and smashes right into you, full speed, sending you across the road. Simon is just standing there, watching. Completely unable to help. He always wakes up once he walks up to your mangled body.
Simon gasps quietly and jolts awake again, blinking the bleariness away, and the slow beeps and exhales of your machines come back. His rapid heartbeat begins to slow as he realizes that he’s still beside your hospital bed. He looks at you—you’re no longer on a ventilator, but you have an oxygen mask, a way to help your collapsed lung. It makes him feel a bit better, but Simon would very much prefer your eyes to be open, your fingers moving against the blanket you’d likely hate the texture of when you woke up—if you woke up—and he would want to feel your muscles moving under your skin. He also tries to ignore the fear of you having Amnesia after waking up.
Simon isn’t sure when he laid his head back down, but it shoots back up the second he hears a quiet noise escape you—it’s the first sign of life to Simon, his wide eyes scanning your body. His eyes fly to your hand, your fingers twitching a bit. Simon grabs ahold of your twitching hand immediately and looks at your face and he isn’t so sure why his heart is pounding beneath his ribs, but he doesn’t have too much time to focus on it as your arm twitches. It’s like you’re slowly coming back to life in a weird way, but Simon finds himself totally silent, like he can’t find the right words to say just yet. He doesn’t mean to hold his breath, but he does as he watches your shoulder twitch next, and then your eyebrows furrow. Your eyes are already closed, but you squeeze your eyelids together harder. Simon realizes that you haven’t had your eyes open for about four days, so he quickly dims the rooms lights and returns right back next to you. Simon reaches for your hand and gently holds it, watching you slowly get your surroundings.
Your eye flutter open slowly and you blink, and it’s obvious you don’t immediately process that you’re in the hospital. A croaky moan of discomfort leaves you and Simon sits up, the worry eating at his stomach. You look at Simon with unfocused and exhausted eyes and your eyebrows furrow again and your lips part.
“..Simon?”
He releases the breath he was holding and he nods, his black mask slightly moving as his lips move. “I’m right here, [name]. Right here.” Simon absolutely hates how shaky his voice is, and he watches you bit your lip as your eyes begin to fill with tears. His heart skips a beat—what’s wrong? Are you in pain? Are you scared? Simon decides he needs to know because he can fix it, he can help you, right? He needs to fix it—“Y.. You came for me..” You whisper, blinking a tear rolls down your cheek to your jaw quickly. Simon’s own eyebrows furrowed—did you think he wouldn’t? “Of course I did, love.” He murmurs, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I will always come for you.” You try to hold in the quiet sob, but your shoulders begin to shake. Simon reaches up and gently wipes away a tear with his thumb while he squeezes your hand. “No tears now, hm? You’ve.. You’ve survived the impossible.” Simon says, forcing his voice to be steady. His eyes begin to burn with his own set of tears forming. “I came as soon as I heard, [name]. Don’t ever think I wouldn’t come for you.“
Your lower lip curls as you try to not cry from his sentiment; this is the man who took you in after losing everything, and it took him a long while to even let you know of his actual name, let alone see his face unmasked. This is the man who does not tell you the details of his job, but you know that he could be killed from it. This is the man who sits next to you near his windowsill when you both can’t sleep—the man who wakes up, just knowing something is up. He makes you a cup of your favorite morning drink whenever he can, he signs his sticky notes with a poorly drawn skull instead of his name, he makes piss poor dad and army type jokes, annoys you with his cockiness and bought you a damn mattress and bed-frame—even thought he never had to. He remembers the little things about you, your favorite shows and games—your favorite books, your favorite foods, hell, he remembers every little awful story about your workplace and your job. He’s always been like a wild animal—you come too close and he flees, but if you’re patient do what he needs, he’ll come to you.
Simon blinks away the tears and he clears his throat, his voice hesitant as he speaks. “You made me your emergency contact.” His tone isn’t questioning or warbling in any way—he says it like a statement, a fact, which it is. You laugh quietly which quickly turns into a grimace, causing Simon’s thumb to stop moving over your knuckles for a moment. Of course any movement or sound would hurt. “I.. I had to put one down, I just.. put the first person who came to mind.. Y’know?” You murmured nervously. Simon’s breath hitches for a moment and he only responds with a “mmh” for the time being, which definitely makes you way more nervous than you started out to feel. Your heart monitor spikes for a moment, causing Simon to speak up. “Hey—just relax, okay? M’not mad, love. Not mad at all,” He begins. He glances away from you for a moment before looking back with such a vulnerable look—like he’ll break at any moment. “It was just.. a surprise. That’s all.” But both of you know it was more than just a surprise. It was a small declaration of prioritizing each other—you setting him as the first person to be notified for an emergency, and his acceptance of this role. Simon never thought he would be sitting here, beside anyone else than his teammates in a hospital setting.
Simon isn’t sure when he fell in love with you. Whether it was the first moment he laid eyes on you or way later down the road—he doesn’t know. What he does know is that this.. feeling, isn’t as scary as it used to be. People getting close to him used to terrify him and it still does—but.. there’s something about you. Something about you that makes Simon feel safe. Makes him feel like he doesn’t have to sit in the corner to watch the entire room, you make him feel like he doesn’t have to sleep with a hunting knife stashed under his pillow. You make him feel like he doesn’t have to question your motives with anything you do, you make Simon feel like he can just sit down and relax without having to worry about, well.. anything else besides from the question of what you’ll have for dinner that night. He tries to hold in the shuddery breath and when he can’t, his eyes dart away to your arm. You open your lips to speak again, but you begin to cough. Simon grabs the paper cup of water that has a straw in it that he’s prepared for you everyday just in case you had woken up and he slots the straw between your lips, which you greedily accept and drink down the cold water. It soothes the ache in your throat from being on the ventilator and from not speaking for a couple of days. Once you’re satisfied, he places the cup back on the side table. “Hey, Si,” You croak, your fingers weakly squeezing his hand. Simon’s eyes immediately meet yours again, searching for any hint of pain. You lick your lips, a light smile coming to them. “Two blondes walk into a bar. You’d think one of ‘em would’ve seen it.” He stares at you for a moment, his eyebrows raising. “Did.. Did you just..” You laugh weakly and nod, looking at him. “I did.” You clear your throat again and squeeze his fingers. “Did it because you’re in your head.. Don’t hafta think so.. so much when you’re with me, Simon.”
Simon brushes his thumb over your knuckles once again and he can’t help but silently agree—he doesn’t have to think about anything right now, he can just sit here, with you—even if it’s in a place like this, with you in a condition like that. Simon looks at you and you look back at him, into his soul—and for the first time, he doesn’t want to look away.
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taglist;; @alwaystired--neversleeping @handsomeunderwear-art @indefenseofkara @kaysav608 @1-is-loneliest-number @rosee-sensuelle @kitty-satan1 @k4marina @rahmown @royalty-purple @bowtruckleninja @cumikering @silent-neptune @purechaosss @hauntedpass @mxtokko @meimhem [crossed out = not able to tag sorry!]
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chuunai · 2 months
Note
NEED BSD MEN HEADCANONS WITH THEM EXPERIENCING BABY FEVER FOR THE FIRST TIME
like they see a baby on social media being cute or something like that and they're just like "oh....I??? want one?????"
I’ve been waiting for this one >_<
✧˚ · . BSD men with baby fever - dazai osamu, chuuya nakahara, tachihara michizou, tetcho suehiro, sigma
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summary ⋆ ★ mentions of pregnancy, babies babies babies, fluff, established relationship (dating reader), SFW with implied NSFW.
Dazai Osamu:
Dazai would only get baby fever if you two had been together for a while. That he trusts you with his being and heart. He’s lost so many others in the span of a few years, he doesn’t want to lose you too. Or a baby. A family is something that’s unknown to him. The closest thing he had to one was with Ango and Odasaku, but look how that ended up.
But when that video of a baby crawling over to her mama and papa came up on his social media feed one day, something in his mind just seemed to focus on ‘baby baby baby’. At the Agency, all he could think about was his future baby. The dark curls they’d inherit, and your lips and eyes. Kunikida could smack him for all he cared, but Dazai was the one with a girlfriend. And at home, one could say it got even more embarrassing there. Online shopping carts would magically start having baby clothes in them, and a music playlist with the title of ‘lullabies for future baby dazai <3’ appeared as well.
Of course, you ask why it’s popping up. Instead of being smart and playfully brushing it off, the fever grows to a whole new degree where he gets down on his knees in front of you and begs for a baby. He just wants a family of his own. Is it so much to ask for? Someone he’ll love unconditionally and that they’ll love him back. And wouldn’t it be the ultimate gift of your love? Something that came from the both of you and your shared efforts?
By the miracle of his persuasive words (and even more persuasive cock), you had agreed. Dazai could hardly wait for night nowadays where he’d try to stuff a baby into you. His baby. A family with you. The fever isn’t giving up, and a positive pregnancy test is his only hopeful sign of recovering.
Chuuya Nakahara
Chuuya gets baby fever very quick. It’s not his fault that he gets attached so early on in the relationship. You just complete him—the empty side where he questions everything. An answer to his purpose in life. You’re a goddess in his eyes, and he worships the ground you walk on. He also enjoys talking about you and showing you off. It’d be more impressive if he could show off a baby in your belly, though.
He blames it all on his subordinates. The fuckers are young—like him—and irresponsible. The Port Mafia is a soul’s last resort, and so one loses all sense of purpose and dignity. That leads to pregnancies, occasionally. The fathers are also usually part of the Mafia, and so when Chuuya saw the expecting parents walking around, he couldn’t help but think of you. Belly swollen with his seed, tits heavy with milk to nourish his child. He was a goner day one of the fever. The following weeks are discreetly spent reading articles about parenting, looking at cute videos of families and staring at your stomach a whole lot more now.
He tries to indirectly ask about your feelings on the topic when you’re both sleepily intoxicated on a Sunday. Snuggling up to you on the couch while his tired voice asks if you thought you two would be good parents. One hand rested absentmindedly on your stomach, kneading it slowly while you smiled and said yes. Of course, it didn’t mean you wanted one now or anything, but in the moment it sure seemed like you had said that you wanted his baby now.
That’s probably how you two ended up under the sheets, too drunk to remember protection as he prayed for a baby to be conceived. A pillow under your hips while his rolled against yours endlessly until his cum painted your cervix and walls white. He doesn’t pull out either, nor do you push him off. Deep down, he knows you want the same too. A mini-Nakahara.
Tachihara Michizou
He’s a mix of Dazai and Chuuya. He’ll get baby fever quickly after you start dating because he’s known you for so long. You two had been on the streets together for a while and joined the Hunting Dogs together. You’re his family, and he’s yours. It’s always been just you and him forever. Tachihara needs that security in order to even think about a baby of his own.
When he does, it’s when Atsushi randomly gave him a stroller with a baby in it. Tachihara had no clue on what to do when it started crying and Gin teased him for it, but damn did it look kinda similar to you and him. Then that pesky thought entered his mind after work as he tried to get it out. You’re both only nineteen, for Christ’s sake! And you haven’t even been dating for a year! Tachihara’s not going to ask you for one until you’re at least twenty-three together and still happy.
But lord, four years is a painful waiting time. But he knows you’re worth it. That the future baby is worth it. He’ll try and subtly to have you get baby fever too by going to parks more often where parents are fussing over their kids and he’ll make a comment about how you baby him like that and that your offspring will like him better. You don’t seem too convinced, but he’ll change that. Just like how he’s changing both of your future for the better.
His dreams consist of you and him raising a family in the peaceful countryside where no one will ever threaten you again. No crime or tragedy, just you and him. His biological family may all either be dead or hating him, but that doesn’t matter. You’re his family, and you love him.
Tetcho Suehiro
Tetcho doesn’t even know he has baby fever. All he knows is that he’s dating you—his heavenly angel. Everything in his life is good and normal. He has a job he deeply cherishes and loves, friends, and a civilian fiancée. The only thing he wishes for is to keep you happy and content with life and your relationship. A baby’s not on his mind for a while. Why would it? He’s got everything he needs.
But that one encounter with a child he saved from a criminal had him questioning it. The way it thanked him and hugged him got his fatherly side up and running. He thought it was just sweet of the kid to do so. Not that he wanted one of his own. Though his brain was different; insistent and pleading whenever he took you out on that one date and saw you help escort a lost child back to their parents. Tetcho’s a blunt honest individual, if you ask him something, he will most likely say the truth.
So when you see his adoring gaze at you, you ask him if he was okay and he just replies that he wants a baby too. One more thing to add to his life. You’re already engaged, he’s devoted to you forever more. He’ll take such good care of you and the baby. Money’s not an issue, and your relationship is stable and healthy. Isn’t it the best time for a baby?
He still doesn’t see it as baby fever when you tell him it. It’s just natural, right? Reproduction. He’d be a good father, he thinks. And he’ll tell you that until you give in and allow him to be a daddy-to-be.
Sigma
Sigma is also a goner day one. Coming from the Book has always made him feel out of place in the world. He has no mother, no father. No document of birth or a childhood He just came into being from words alone, and that makes him fascinated by you. He admires it, strangely enough. Your womb. The fact you could carry a baby just was stuck in his mind.
Your period is what first started his baby fever. When you first went through it shortly after your relationship began and he thought you were dying, you had to explain that you went through this every month unless you were pregnant. He offered to give you a baby, feeling bad for you. You of course said no, but he still has the offer up. He’s seen some pregnant patrons at the Casino, albeit rarely. Sigma wonders what you would look like carrying his baby. Letting him—a man not born quite like anyone else—do the honors of fathering your first child. Lord, he obsesses over it.
He has to sleep every night with his face buried in your stomach. When he falls asleep, he dreams of your future baby. It’s so bad for him. He needs to know he’s normal like everyone else. And nearly everybody can make a baby, right? If you really loved him, you’d let him try and make one with you too. To prove that yes, he’s human even if his origins are odd.
Sigma isn’t giving up. He’s a determined man with a goal in sight. He worked hard for everything he has in life right now, exhausting both his mind and body to the point of nearly insanity. A reward can be given to him, right? He’s heard Fyodor talk about God, and while he isn’t particularly religious himself, surely God will recognize his actions and give him a baby?
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Here’s your meal everyone ! <3
Tags: @twst-om-lover, @xxcandlelightxx, @sinfulthoughtsposts
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chlorinecake · 5 months
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🎙️ star-crossed lovers 【 薄幸な恋人 】 ⛦
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summ✩ry While collabing with your girl group and Enhypen for a special stage, forbidden feelings spark between you and the main dancer upon dorming together
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p✩iring idol!niki x popstar!reader ✩ requested ✩
-> PART 2 HERE
genre band au, fluff, secret romance cw swearing, mild bullying, the word ‘sexy’ like once, kissing, girl drama, reader is younger than Niki wc 4.4k
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“Ugh,” Serenity groaned as the hairstylist applied yet another thick layer of chocolate brown hair dye to her scalp.
“This gig better bring in some serious bank, because never in my life would I willingly collab with those overrated wannabes,” she exclaimed, taking a frustrated sip from her vanilla latte.
“Hey, people used to call us wannabe's, too, you know,” Haerin said quietly as she tucked her hands under the UV light.
“Yeah, you should be more mature about this, Serenity... like I always say, professionalism triumphs pride," you added, only half-engaged in the conversation as a certain online article caught your attention.
As the band leader, you were always in charge of everything, so Serenity and Haerin were used to you talking to them this way...
“I’m just glad that we're getting exposure,” Haerin smiled, thinking of the countless nights you and your group spent practicing routines and writing songs for auditions, "it's not often that artists like us get opportunity's to perform internationally."
“For real,” Serenity cheered, “Riot Grrlz for the win!”
The three of you put your hands out to make a circle, “Riot Grrlz for life,” Haerin exclaimed, forgetting that her nails hadn't fully dried yet.
"Whoops," she giggled, just as Jade, the oldest of your group, made her way from the bathroom.
“What took you so long in there?” Serenity asked cheekily, “I thought we were gonna have to call the fire department.”
“Ha ha, very funny,” Jade returned, taking a seat beside Haerin so she could get her nails done, too.
“You were talking to the enemy, weren’t you,” Serenity accused.
“No, Ren, I didn’t go behind your back and sell my soul to the devil for fame.”
“Not that enemy,” Serenity grinned, “I'm talking about Mr. Six Foot Moon Eyes.”
“Oooooo,” Haerin amused, pulling your attention away from your phone.
“Ugh, let it up guys. My crush on Sunghoon is long gone, especially now that we’re gonna be working together. Besides, I would never act so recklessly over romance.”
“Who said anything about reckless romance,” you teased, unintentionally giving Jade a full view of the article your were reading on your phone.
"Nobody,” she began, “but I’m surprised you even heard that over all your internet-stalking.”
You were scrolling through a K-Pop news feed when you came across a post.
It was titled: "Enhypen Rumored By Netizens To Be Collabing With THIS Rookie Western Girl Group."
"Shush," you whisper-yelled at Jade, "unless you’re trying to get our record deals pulled!"
Just last week, your management team made you and your group sign a contract of secrecy, swearing silence regarding unpublicized business projects and associations: this included your upcoming collab with Enhypen that Jade nearly just spoiled.
Although, in all honesty, the blog's use of the word "rookie" bothered you more than potentially breaking any contract rules.
"Relax, boss, it's practically a ghost town in here," Jade defended, drawing your attention to the near vacant salon space.
Ding.
It was an email from your manager.
He wanted to inform you all that your chauffeur would be ready around 2:45am to bring you guys to the airport.
"Jeez," you mumbled to yourself, "looks like I'm not getting much sleep tonight."
“Shit,” Serenity whined, “I haven’t even made enough time to brush up on my Korean yet!”
“Luckily me and Haerin here are bilingual baddies,” Jade giggled, giving the cat-eyed girl a fist punch.
“Ahh, watch my nails!!”
▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •
Your company's fashion crew was experimenting with different concepts, assigning each of your members an individual color to permanently represent: Serenity was teal, Jade was purple, Haerin was white, and you were pink.
Some time passed, an you and your group arrived in South Korea around 3:00pm.
Thanks to the fashion tech your management team hired, it wasn't obvious that you and the girls had been in and out of sleep for the past 13 hours.
You couldn't help but stalk the headlines about your group, as rumors about your Enhypen collab continued to spread like wildfire.
So much for swearing silence and secrecy, you thought to yourself.
South Korean pop media had already seemed to build a vendetta against your group, given that you were young, talented, and most importantly, from the states. The xenophobia of most K-netizens was disheartening at best, but you understood that hate was a part of success.
Besides, you were living the dream of many engenes at the moment — most of them would sell their siblings to be in your shoes right now.
“Ahh! This is unreal!!” Jade cheered excitedly in the back of the limousine. You guys had just left the airport around thirty minutes ago, after getting past the pesky crowd of paparazzi.
“I know right? Korean McNuggets slap way harder than back home,” Haerin added while munching on the salty snack.
“Don't get too comfy, Rinnie. We will leave you here,” Serenity joked.
You hadn't even realized the radio was playing until a certain guitar riff blared from the ceiling speakers.
"Oh hell no," Serenity immediately cringed, covering her ears as you, Jade, and Haerin exchanged knowing look, bringing imaginary microphones to your mouths in unison.
It was Enhypen's song Blessed-Cursed, Jay’s voice singing "We go!" over the radio.
"Go, go, go, go, go, go, GO!!" The three of you cheered, obnoxiously dancing to the choreo while sitting.
Memories of your group (minus Serenity) binge watching music videos at sleepovers resurfaced in your mind.
Usually, you'd only listen to throwback hits like Britney Spears or Rihanna, mostly because Rnb and Pop beats inspired your own art.
Still and all, Blessed-Cursed was one video that the three of you fell in love, way before your upcoming collab was even a thought.
"Don't get mad when I start recording you clowns," Serenity threatened, thoroughly amused by your behavior.
▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •
Upon arriving outside the Hybe Building, a trio of body guards guided you and your girls to an office room where the seven boys stood awkwardly around a large table.
Part of you still couldn't believe this was all actually happening, despite it being right in front of you.
“Hello! We are Enhypen,” Jungwon bowed as the guards exited the room.
Jay visibly cringed at his leaders words, “I promise we were told to introduce ourselves like that. Please don’t judge us.”
“Well, uhm… H-hi,” you stuttered, feeling a bit nervous, “We are the Riot Grrlz. It’s a pleasure being able to work with you all.”
Niki, the tallest of the boys, caught your attention immediately as he greeted you with a peace sign.
Was he always this cute?, you thought to yourself.
That’s when a lady dressed in all black barged through the glass door on the other side of the room.
“Sorry to interrupt… well, not really. Me and the Enhypen boys are already well familiar with each other, but you ladies can call me Kim,” she greeted, waltzing into the office as if owning the place.
She was a fast talker, so you knew you’d have to pay attention to what she was saying or else you might miss something.
“I hope you made use of each others time and gathered everyone’s names? Phone numbers?”
”We were just in the middle of that before you came in, Miss Kim,” Sunoo clarified.
“Very well then. You have a total of 15 minutes to lock in dorming arrangements. As you’ll see on this clipboard here…”
She paused mid-sentence, holding the clipboard dumbly.
“God, can one of you take this thing already?”
“Oh- sorry,” Heeseung chuckled nervously, taking the clipboard from the fiery woman.
“As I was saying, there are four rooms for the eleven of you to somehow divide. And no, just because you’re all hormonal young adults, none of you get a free pass to break the no-dating rule.”
“No-dating rule? What is this, a detention center,” Serenity mumbled.
Kim cleared her throat, feigning a smile as she glared at Serenity with narrowed eyes, “This is a place of utmost professionalism, Princess Land of The Free. If you have a problem adhering to the rules in place here, you are more than welcome to leave.”
“A-and after that? The fifteen minutes, I mean,” Haerin blurted out shyly.
“All of you will meet back in the main lobby, where you will be guided accordingly.”
Miss Kim turned of her black boots, beelining to the door with powerful strides, “The timer starts now” she called out, closing the door behind her.
And with that began your group discussion of rooming arrangements. Unfortunately, though, things didn’t get off to a particularly nice start.
“Are you effing kidding me?” Serenity asked rudely, screwing her eyes toward a now annoyed Heeseung, “Why can't we just get separate hotel rooms?!?”
“Look, there's no perfect way to go about this," he sighed, crossing out the roommate pairs you all had just agreed on. "So you either humble yourself, or sleep in the bathtub for the next two weeks."
“Really guys, the math is simple,” Jake started, “There’s eleven of us and only four rooms to choose from. Nine of us will be divided in groups of three, and the remaining two will share the last room together.”
"Cool! Me, ____, and Jade can share the first room together!" Haerin obliged with a smile.
"Perfect, and where will I go?" Serenity questioned, mocking Haerin's excitement.
"The bathtub, right?" Jay teased, provoking Serenity to argue with him.
Meanwhile, you attempted to make peace with everyone willing to listen, “Guys, I agree with Jake. We need to make a decision quickly before Kim gets back.”
“Right. Everyone in favor of room number 1, provide a show of hands,” Heeseung said, Jay and Jake raising their hands with him.
"And for room 2?" Jungwon initiated, raising his hand with Jade and Haerin.
A pout formed on Jade's face once she realized that Sunghoon wasn't in the same pair as her.
"3's the magic number, I guess…" Sunghoon offered, Serenity raising her hand with him.
Now it was just you, Sunoo, and Niki remaining.
"I'll group with 3, too. All of our name's start with "S," so it just makes sense that way," Sunoo joined shyly.
"Welp, now that leaves the final room for me and..."
"Me..." Niki spoke with a deep voice, flashing a mysterious half-smile-half-smirk that you knew would haunt your mind later.
"Me and me... the odd one's out! Wow, that's actually perfect!" Jake cheered just as the lady in black strut back in.
“Times up,” she said, taking the clipboard from Heeseung to analyze the finalized dorming plans.
“Hmm, interesting,” she mumbled to herself, tucking the clipboard under her arm.
You all made your way down to the main lobby, just as Kim instructed.
One of the security guards mentioned that Hybe suggested a dinner outing for your group and Enhypen as a way to end the night before you started work the next day… or maybe it was mostly a way to officially confirm the rumors about your collab.
Upon arriving, everyone sat at separate tables, divided according to who they agreed to room with.
Although Niki seemed quiet at first, you and him were giggling the babies the entire time you ate.
“Poor Jungwon. He’s gonna be sandwiched between Jade and Haerin for the next two weeks, his biggest fans,” you joked.
“Nah, Sunghoon and Sunoo have it way worse. Serenity’s attitude is enough to send me running,” Niki chuckled, shaking his head.
"Speaking of running, how come you were appointed leader over your group even though you’re a baby," Niki teased.
"Not you baby-shaming me! I was born in 07', you've barely got any experience on me."
"I've had an entire YEAR to catch up on things, for your information."
"Things like what? Potty training?"
"Pfft, probably..." he replied, going quiet for a second before continuing, "If you ever need help, though, I don’t mind practicing with you after hours.”
"Sounds like fun, but that might be past my bedtime," you pouted playfully, taking one of the fries off his plate.
"Hmm."
"Hmm what?"
"Nothing, I just didn't take you as the type to follow rules," he smirked, taking a sip from his soda.
"I guess it depends on what rules we're breaking. Whether it’s worth it or not."
"So rule breaking is a “we” thing now, huh?"
"Probably..." you smiled, the cool breeze of the foreign air sending shivers down your spine.
Or maybe that had something to do with Niki?
Before you knew it, it was time to head back to your dorms for the night. You knew rehearsals in South Korea were taken a lot more seriously than where you're from, so you needed all the rest you could get.
▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •
Day one was easy.
The main focus was recording voice samples in the studio, experimenting with different harmonies, and training your vocals as needed.
Now you were on day two, which started with a quick vocal session, leading into the dance rehearsal warm-up right after. After stretching, the studio was split in half, girls taking the left side and boys taking the right.
You all wore numbers on your back. This way, there wouldn’t be any confusion when any of your were being called.
Niki was assigned number eleven, and you had number one.
According to Jake, the numbers were disseminated based on skill level, and out of the 11 of you, that made Niki first place… and you the very last.
As rehearsals went on, your placement was proving to be true.
You were struggling to keep up with the choreography and it was really starting to bug you.
"Are you feeling okay," Niki asked as you sighed for what sounded like the hundredth time.
"Yea, I'm fine, it’s just this footwork is a bit tricky," you admitted.
“Aww, the smallest number for our most inexperienced contributor,” Serenity teased, making a pass at both your age and inability to get this one move right.
“I may be the youngest out of all of us, but I was appointed head over our group for a reason,” you snapped back.
“Yea… and it still shocks me to this day,” she mumbled, Jade and Haerin pausing to listen now.
You scoffed at her ignorance, putting your hands on your hips, “As if you could lead the Riot Grrlz any better.”
Serenity gave you a look that made you wanna drop here right there in front of everyone.
You never understood why she always had an attitude over the simplest things, and given the current work setting, your tolerance for her bull crap was at an all time low.
“Right, the Riot Grrlz. “Rookie Western Girl Group,” huh? And you expect me to be proud of that?”
“With pride of lionesses, of course,” Jade pitched in, leaning down to fasten her shoelaces.
“We should really keep working on our routine, guys,” Haerin mumbled quietly, causing the raging brunette diva to roll her eyes.
Meanwhile, the boys seemed to be getting along rather well with their part of the routine, completely blind to the chaos brewing at their left.
And by the boys, I mean all of them except Niki and Jake, who were both too distracted by your girl drama.
Way to go embarrassing myself again, you thought to yourself
“You’re new to this sort of training, aren’t you,” Jake asked curiously.
“What, did my shitty dance moves give it away?”
You know it wasn’t Jake’s fault, but you were started to doubt your abilities as an artist and performer.
Even Serenity felt as though you were letting your group down.
“You’re not a shitty dancer, ____,” Niki answered, walking closer to you.
“Yeah, Niki’s right. You shouldn’t put so much pressure on yourself,” Jake added.
“Exactly! Just focus on your strengths,” Serenity pitched in, “your vocals, for example. You might ruin the dance routine, but at least you’ll save all the high notes with Heeseung.”
It was clear that you and Niki were equally fed up with Serenity’s toxicity.
“Okay, can everybody clear out for a moment," Niki clapped, causing everyone to back up against the walls almost instantly.
He pulled you by the hand, turning you to face him as he called out to Sunoo, "Put on a random dance track, real quick. Something upbeat, please."
“Gotcha!”
Turning back to you, Niki took your chin in his hand, making your eyes meet his. “Just follow my lead, okay?” He whispered, taking off the bracelet he wore before sliding it on your wrist, “Do you trust me?”
“Niki...” you started, not sure of what he was trying to do.
“I need you to feel the music, ____. Let it control you," he said, stepping away as a short remix of "Buttons" by the Pussycat Dolls blared from the radio.
You could hear an amused Serenity and Sunghoon chuckle a bit at Sunoo’s choice of song, but Niki remained serious.
His gaze met the ground before he started freestyling to the song, letting his mind and body get used to the rhythm as he flowed to the beat. You stood awkwardly beside him, not feeling up to dance at the moment.
He caught sight of you standing and nudged your shoulder, "Loosen up, ____," he smiled, finally starting to feel the song himself.
You started by mirroring his movements at first, adding a few steps to make it fit your own style more.
"See? Now you're getting it," he encouraged again, pulling you toward him so you could dance together.
Your friends and the boys cheered you and Niki on while you two danced as if choreographed.
The track ended with Niki's had on your waist, both of your chests heaving from all the action.
Haerin's jaw dropped as she struggled to find the right words or any words to say, “That was…”
“Sexy!” Heeseung smirked while playfully fanning himself, making Niki turn his face in embarrassment.
You could feel your own face getting hot now, too, especially with everyone staring.
"Relax, Rinnie, you're acting like you've never seen a guy dance with a girl before," Jade chuckled.
"N-not... n-never like THAT,” Haerin said with a shocked face, “____, you're amazing!"
"Thanks," you smiled shyly, eyes falling back the bracelet Niki put around your wrist.
"Keep it... it's a good luck charm," he replied softly.
"Alright, alright. You guys can loosen up each other's buttons on your own time," Serenity snapped, interrupting everyone's gawking.
"Right... On second thought, it’s time for our break," Jay called, handing you and Niki a rag for your sweat.
"Great job, you guys. See you in 20," Jungwon added.
"Come on, girls," you chirped, picking up your gym bag as you took a sip from your water jug, heading towards the studio exit.
▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •
The rest of the day continued according to your work schedule. One vocal practice followed the other as the initially difficult routine felt more natural with each retake.
You also made a stop by Hybe's fashion team, getting your measurements taken so they could design your outfit for the upcoming stage.
Although this was a work trip, you were having a blast in Korea so far. You liked getting to work with the new people and trying different foods. You especially liked being roomies with Niki.
He was super talented, chill, yet flirty at the same time.
No wonder his fans go so crazy over him, you thought to yourself.
“Hey, ____,” Niki called out, jogging to catch up as you made your way from the dance studio after going back to get the pair of headphones you forgot near the water cooler.
“I wanna show you something…,” he announced, “Well, a thing I like to do.”
“Mhm, and what’s that?” You asked playfully.
He chuckled, “Just a thing that I can’t get away with while in idol mode. My secret escape... Are you interested?”
You meditated on his words before answering, considering the early curfew outlined by both your managers, and how it was already 8:00 at night, “It’s getting pretty late, you know… Is it gonna take long?”
He giggled again, this time leaning into you. “Only if you’re indecisive.”
The sounds of your sneakers tapping against the shiny tiled floors bounced off the hallway walls.
Like you said, girls would sell souls to be in your shoes right now: there’s no way you were gonna pass up on a chance to hang out with Niki…
A chance to explore this reckless romance.
“Ok, let’s go, but we have to be back by midnight,” you agreed.
“Ok, Cinderella. We’re not too far from where I wanna show you,” he beamed, fighting the urge to hold your hand as you followed him out of the Hybe Building, clashing into the night.
▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •
The place was reminiscent of a skate park, graffitied ramp-like walls cupping you and Niki in the surface of the arena.
There were a few other people present, but they seemed more wrapped up in their own little worlds to even look your way…
The moon shined behind the thin clouds of the sky, basking you and Niki’s skin with an ethereal glow.
“This is it!” He gestured with open arms, “my secret escape.”
You tucked your hands in your pockets as it was a bit cold out, “A shared secret place?” You corrected, pointing out the tiny groups of people hanging around.
Niki pushed the hoodie from over his head, revealing his two-toned mane, “I guess you could say that… they’re all idols, here. Just like me. They get why I do this.”
“Why you do what,” you inquired, stepping over a few random rocks that decorated the path.
“Why I dance,” he answered almost immediately, looking you in the eyes, “for myself.”
He took a few steps away from you, swaying to the music that rippled from one of the mystery people’s carry-radios.
Like earlier, you mirrored his moves at first, adding your own adjustments based on intuition.
Feeling.
You had so many more questions to ask, but in this moment, you focused on Niki and the way he moved.
The small groups of people developed into a crowd within a matter of seconds, joining you and Niki along with the music.
Although everyone was doing their own thing, in a strange way if felt harmonious.
Some people danced calmly, others were more wild. Either way, you were starting to understand what Niki meant.
Being able to express yourself away from prying eyes, scornful comments, flashing cameras, or a number 1 sign on your back was invigorating.
The music was still going when Niki grabbed your hand and pulled you to the side, a soft look taking over his features.
“Kiss me,” he whispered, staring into your eyes.
“W-what?”
“I just need to know that what I’m feeling right now is real.”
You took his face in your hands, trying to make yourself feel more in control of the situation, “Niki, I don’t think we should do this. Your manager outlined pretty strict rules.”
He paused before responding, “Remember what you said at the restaurant the first day we met?”
His grip on your hands remained delicate despite how strongly he felt for you.
“About us breaking rules together… only if it’s worth it.”
“Exactly,” he smiled, leaning in, “I knew they didn’t call you a riot girl for nothing.”
His lips connecting with yours like a puzzle piece, both your hearts fluttering as if they’d grown butterfly wings.
You felt like your world was spinning at twice its original speed, but at the same time, the moment felt still.
Niki tilted his head, deepening the kiss as he braced a hand at your waist, pulling you closer before finally letting go.
“I like you, ____. Like, a lot,” he confessed, taking in the dreamy expression displayed on your face.
Your mind went blank.
“Say something? Please,” he urged, taking your hands in his.
A smile wavered over your features as you kissed him back on the lips, feeling as though you both stopped breathing for a moment.
“I like you too, Niki. But isn’t this pretty risky?”
“You said so yourself, risks don’t count if it’s worth it,” he nearly whispered.
“Well,” you began, still holding onto him, “if we’re gonna do this, it has to stay between us… no one else can find out.”
And just like that, you were now secretly dating your roommate / coworker / Enhypen’s main dancer and maknae / one of K-pop’s most sought after It-Boy’s, all in a three days.
Great.
▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •
You and Niki made it back to you dorm rooms undetected. It seemed like everyone else was either too tired or too busy to notice that you two were out for so long.
Unlocking the door to as quietly as possible, you and Niki took light steps, trying not to disturb anyone or draw attention to yourselves.
Once the door was closed, you both bust out in a fit of laughter for reasons you didn’t understand nor cared to understand.
You didn’t need a reason laugh when Niki was around… it’s kind of just something that started to happen over the last couple days.
“What’s your secret to performing so well?” You asked him, both laying face-up on the lower bunk bed together.
“Hmm, I feel like nervousness is a strength. It pushes you to go forward in a sense…”
“Yeah… I get that. Sometimes, I feel like being calm is dangerous. It puts you in a safe space, when performing should be all about taking chances.”
“Right,” he agreed, resting a hand over his stomach, “Speaking of chances, they’re precious, you know? I never just assume I’ll get another opportunity to dance.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Like…” he sighed, trying to find the right words, “Every time I get on stage… in front of those lights… in front of my fans… I perform-”
“As if it’s your last…” you answered for him.
“Yeah, that,” he chuckled, running a hand through his hair, “You know, it’s really nice talking to someone who gets me… the dancer part of me.”
“Of course, it’s really nice talking to you, too, Niki,” you smiled softly.
Breaking the calmness of the moment, he sat up in his elbows, meeting your face.
“Top or bottom?” He asked, referring to where you wanted to sleep for the night.
You crawled over his body, climbing into the upper bunk of the bed and laying down to finally rest.
“Good night, number 11,” you teased, snuggling into the mattress.
“Rest well, number 1. Big day tomorrow.”
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🎙️ For my baby, @microwvdstrawb3rri3s, I hope it was worth the wait ~ And yes, before you ask, there will be a second part 💕
⛦ Additional tags for my fellow Niki enthusiasts: @fanficfactoryfoxxx @nikisblkgf @yourmomscuntis2tighy @nikimeows @kimjiho1 @nikipedia07 @nishimuradaniel
🎙️ Feel free to check out more fun reads on the pinned post at my home page ~
@ashgonedash, I still felt bad about forgetting to tag you earlier 👑 so here you go, my love :3
Update: THANK YOU ALL SM FOR 400 NOTES!!
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bradshawssugarbaby · 4 months
Text
Merry Christmas, Dad. - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader
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A/N: More Christmas morning fluff, this time for our favourite aviator with Daddy issues. This is my third of three six (I like Christmas, ok?) entries for @sailor-aviator's Christmas Writing Challenge to celebrate the holidays with our favourite aviators. Also, I know it's not my best, but I had a dream last night about stepdad!Bradley and I ran with it.
pairing:  Bradley Bradshaw x reader
warnings/content: adoption inaccuracies, Bradley has a ten year old stepdaughter, fluff
word count: 1.4k
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“Mom, can I ask you something?”
You hummed as you looked up from the article you were reading on your phone and smiled softly at your ten year old daughter, Kennedy. Kennedy nervously fidgeted with her hands as she waited for your response, copying your own nervous habit of biting the inside of your cheek whenever there was a discussion you were scared to have. 
“Do you think Bradley would mind if I started calling him “dad”?” Kennedy’s voice was quiet, her eyes shifting their gaze to the floor as she waited for your response.
You and Bradley had dated since Kennedy was 5, she knew a life before he came along, and she’d always called him Bradley - when she was younger, it was simply out of ease for the two of them. You didn’t want to complicate things or pressure her or Bradley into forming a father-daughter relationship that they may not have wanted, especially if anything had broken down between you and Bradley. The last thing you wanted was to leave Kennedy with the sting of two father figures walking out of her life, even though part of you always knew that, had you and Bradley ever split up, he’d never just walk away from Kennedy. Despite the first-name basis your daughter was on with him, he adored her like she was his own. He was there for every moment he could be from the day he met her, wanting to make sure she had the father he didn’t growing up. He wanted to be everything his dad would have been to him, and being that for Kennedy meant the world to him. 
“I think he’d love that, sweetheart, do you want to start calling him that?” You nodded your head, raising an eyebrow at your daughter as you sipped your coffee.
“I do. I, uh, hmmph,” Kennedy frowned, clearly struggling to find the words she was looking for, “I talked to Dad last weekend about it,” she finally said, nodding her head slowly as she spoke.
Kennedy and her biological father had a strained relationship, Kennedy only visiting him due to the court-ordered custody arrangement in place governing visitation rights until she reached 12 years of age. Kennedy hated leaving to go stay with him, she never felt comfortable being with her father’s new family that he’d replaced her and her mom with, but she did it reluctantly every weekend, after a chat with Bradley reminded her that despite everything that had happened between Kennedy’s biological parents, her father still deserved to see her once in a while, until Kennedy was old enough to make that choice for herself. 
“You talked to your dad? How did that go?” 
“Well…I told him that I wanted to start calling Bradley my dad too, he was sort of ok with it, but, I also told him that, I, uh…” Her voice trailed off again as she chewed the inside of her cheek once again, to the point where you were almost concerned about how nervous she was. 
“Kennedy, baby, this is about more than just asking to call Bradley your dad, isn’t it?”
Kennedy slowly nodded her head and pulled out a stack of papers from her school notebook before setting them on the table in front of you. Your eyes skimmed over the words typed out across the page, a State of California emblem emblazoned on the top. 
“Kennedy, where did you get these?” You said slowly, trying to process what your daughter was hinting at.
“The internet. It’s not hard to find them. I want Bradley to sign them for me. Dad said it was ok.”
“Your father ok’d this?” You raised your eyebrows in disbelief as you read the paperwork over once more.
“He said if it would make me happy, then he was ok with it,” Kennedy stated matter-of-factly as she nodded her head.
“Mom, I want Bradley to adopt me.” 
You bit your lip and nodded your head, fighting back tears that threatened to spill from your eyes as you listened to your daughter. A smile formed on your face as you made eye contact with Kennedy, whose own eyes were starting to fill up with tears as she waited for your reaction.
“Kennedy, you know Bradley would be honoured by that,” You finally said, pulling Kennedy in tightly for a hug.
“Do you think I should give them to him as a Christmas present?” She said thoughtfully, pulling her head back to look at you for a moment. 
“I think that might be the best Christmas present you could give him, Kennedy.”
 A few weeks later, Kennedy proudly stuck a gift box under the tree for each of her parents. She grinned over at her mother as the pair waited for Bradley to come down the stairs after his usual morning shower. Kennedy took her seat on the couch with her stocking in hand as she began unwrapping the items inside, waiting not-so-patiently for Bradley to emerge in his sleep pants and sweatshirt. Finally, you could hear his heavy footsteps coming down the wooden stairs, the stairs making their usual creaking sound under Bradley’s frame as he bounded down them. You kissed his cheek and handed him his coffee before smiling at him. Bradley looked at you both, his lips curling up into a grin from under his mustache. 
“There’s my two favourite girls. Get anything good in your stocking from the Big Guy, Kennedy?” Bradley chuckled as he raised his coffee mug in gesture to the stocking at Kennedy’s feet.
“Braaaaaadleeeeeyyyy,” Kennedy groaned as she huffed and rolled her eyes, “I’m not a little kid, I know it was you who put the stockings out.”
“Me?!” Bradley exclaimed in faux-surprise, “Trust me, I may fly a jet, but I’m no Santa.”
You and Kennedy rolled your eyes in unison as Bradley grinned at you from behind his coffee cup, taking a sip of the warm, creamy brown liquid as he watched Kennedy open a gift. Bradley took his usual seat - his favourite old worn-out lazy boy recliner chair that he’d brought with him when the two of you moved in together. At first you’d protested its mere existence in your home, but, Bradley had insisted you’d grow to love it, and naturally, he wasn’t wrong. It was the chair he and Kennedy used to snuggle up in when she was small, where he’d teach her the rules of baseball and football as they watched games together. Where he’d sit to read to her each night when she was little, proudly taking on the role of professional storyteller for the household. It was the chair where he sat every birthday and every Christmas morning, watching Kennedy open her presents expectantly, watching in anticipation for her reaction every time.
Finally, after the number of presents remaining unopened under the tree had dwindled to just one, Kennedy looked to you with a smirk before scooping the box up in her hand and passing it to Bradley with a grin, trying her best to keep herself from giving the gift away with her reaction alone.
“Here, Bradley, this one’s for you!” She said as she nodded her head, stepping back for a moment as Bradley opened it.
“It’s…an envelope?” Bradley laughed softly and raised his eyebrow, “Kiddo, you got me an envelope? How did you know I needed one of these?!” He teased as he gave her a playful pat on the arm.
Kennedy rolled her eyes and laughed as Bradley opened the envelope. He paused for a moment to read the papers in his hand. As the realization hit him Bradley quickly raised his hand to his face, using a finger to wipe away a tear. He looked up at Kennedy in disbelief and shook his head as he began grinning at her.
“Kennedy, kiddo, you mean it? You want me to adopt you?” Bradley’s voice cracked as he spoke. He was never overly emotional like this, but, you knew that the little girl he’d practically raised for the last five years asking him to adopt her would be one of those few instances that would evoke tears from him. 
“I mean it…Dad.” 
Bradley set the envelope down on the table in front of him and threw his arms around Kennedy, pulling her in for one of his famously tight hugs. He pressed his lips to her forehead in a gentle, nurturing kiss before looking down at her. 
“I love you, kiddo. You wanting me to be your dad means more to me than any award or rank the US Navy could ever give me, you know that?”
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bangchansgirlsblog · 6 months
Text
Overprotective PT 3
!kinda proofread!
Hope you enjoy the last part :)
Don’t forget to throw in some request!
-🩷
(They will be a few time skips)
**
I sat on the dining table down stairs slowly eating my breakfast as the boys were running around trying to figure out stuff and brining their bags down. My bag was already brought down by the help of I.N who didn’t seem as mad at me like the other guys were. So, there was no need for me to go upstairs anymore.
My head phones were on and I was eating up some bacon, eggs and potatoes Leeknow had nicely cooked for me knowing that my stomach normally acts up whenever we had to travel. Which was really sweet of him really.
The house was noisy like usual. People were walking in and out of the house. Chan was running around with papers and passports in his hands in one corner obviously stressed. Hyunjin and Han arguing about who was taking what skincare, leeknow helping I.N figure out his airport outfit and Changbin, Felix and Seungmin were taking selfies to post on bubble.
Once I finish the meal the cars pulled up in our driveway and I grabbed my heavy bag trying to carry it to the car but completely failing. Stupid stylists and packing sending me all these clothes (joking I’m totally thankful for all of them)
"Here let me help you." I.N says grabbing the bags and carrying them into the car. I say a small 'thank you' really appreciating the fact that he didn't stand there and watch me suffer.
We get into our different cars knowing our trio's.
Me, I.N, Felix, then 3 Racha, then Leeknow, Seungmin and Hyunjin. Like always. It didn’t change unless there was some type of security problem. Our car was the loudest in normal occasions but today due to the circumstances, the car ride was quiet.
No one dared to speak a word. I felt myself slowly shutting down because I was so tired because of the lack of sleep.
We had been learning the new choreography the past week and barely got enough time to sleep. Even the boys started to complain about the amount of hours we were putting in.
The sleepy red eyes and eye-bags were the biggest signs.
I was struggling to stay awake there was no lie there. I grab my energy drink and start sipping on it. Hoping it could atleast get me through the walk through of the airport.
By the time we arrive I had finished the drink and put the can in the car trash bin and got out of the car with the boys.
All the fans lining up outside, probably thousands, screaming our names and trying to get a picture or look.
"Let's go this way." The guard says shielding us from the paparazzi's flash lights.
We follow him and meet up with some of the boys making our way to the front of the airport where we all stood in line and waved. Waved at everyone and took some pictures.
I could hear the burning questions of the paparazzi about the pictures from last night. The yelling growing louder and louder. Some were horrible and others were way too insensitive.
"Just ignore them, yeah?" I.N says in my ear and I quickly look over at him nod. Nobody could see the tears that hid behind my glasses. Thank God.
I just knew I had to act normal and act like nothing was getting to me because if I did it would be suspicious if the person in the picture wasn’t ‘actually me’.
"Alright shall we?" The manager motions for all of us to follow him and we do. We follow him all the way through into the crowd and into check in.
"It must not be her it those pictures from last night then. What a scam! Her hair is blonde!" I hear some people whispering in the line that was right next to us.
"Poor girl! All the hate she's getting online is so saddening. Atleast now we know it's not her." The other girl replies while tapping on her phone.
The hate I was getting? What hate was I getting?
I questioned and pull out my phone and scroll through the new articles that read.
"New photos from last night FAKE!" I sigh in relief as people were actually believing it wasn't me in those pictures. Chan was right.
I was happy for a little while until I scroll onto twitter where things started to actually get out of hand.
I start reading each and ever comment under my hashtag. #straykidsY/n
"I knew she wasn't Idol type!"
"This is honestly disgusting how could she do that to her fans"
"Does it mean to at she's getting kicked out of straykids?"
"I told y'all she was disgusting. Y'all didn't believe me"
My jaw is left hanging and I squint my eyes scanning every single comment in shock. Why were people so mean? Why were men sexualizing me as well? Grown men?
"Y/n. Keep walking," Leeknow whispers in his scolding tone. “Your slowing down.” I try and pick up my pace and when we make it past the check in point. I quickly put my phone away and wipe the tears that had fallen.
The heat under my sweater was starting to get to me. It felt like I was slowly suffocating. It felt like the walls were crashing in.
I start to sweat as I access the way we're going.
A lot of people in the airport were staring at us. A lot of eyes were watching us. Watching me probably.
Probably thinking I'm the worst or thinking of how I would like it in my panties. Disgusting.
My hands grow sweaty and start to slowly shake. I feel my legs grow weaker. We're almost at the private jet. We're almost there.
If I can get to the jet that's all. That's all I need to do.
But the icky feeling of throwing up starts to crawl in my stomach. I start to slow down which causes Leeknow to scold me again but I can't, I can't walk. It feels like I'm slowly being pulled into the ground.
"What is it?" Leeknow says holding onto my hand. This causes everyone to also stop even the guards and staff.
"What's wrong?" He looks at me worried.
The cold sweat and pale skin worries him even more and starts to worry Chan now who is now walking from the front to the back.
"P-panic attack." I manage to say in short breathes. I'm leaning on leeknow. My breathing getting shorter by each breath.
"What is it? What going on?" Chan whispers. His hand automatically placing on my back.
"I think she's having a panic attack." Leeknow whispers.
"Fuck, Y/n. Listen, you need to breathe and walk so we can get you somewhere quieter." He talks to me softly, “can you do that for me love?” He asks.
I slowly nod and start taking slow steps. The two older boys standing by my side making sure I don't collapse.
By the time we walk into the jet I gasp for air and walk to a corner far from everyone. Leeknow and Chan following me closely behind.
“Do you need some water? Talk to me what’s wrong?” Leeknow asks kneeling in-front of me.
“It’s so hot, it’s so hot.” I start to panic even more.
My hands rip through my sweater. “Where’s your bag Y/n?” Chan asks and I point by the door. He grabs it and pulls out my small portable fan and points it my way.
A hand on my lap makes me look up. Seungmin standing there looking very worried.
"Y/nie you need to breathe my love. Breathe. Here look at me." He holds my hand and squeezes it. "See your doing a good job. Everything is okay. You don't need to panic okay? I've got you."
The world slowly starts moving at a normal speed again. Seungmin sits by me and pulls me into his arm cuddling me.
"See, there you go baby girl. You're okay now. You're fine." I look over at him and couldn’t help but smile. That didn’t last long when the feeling of nausea hits me really hard.
"I feel sick Minnie,” I say trying to get out of his grip just incase I didn’t throw up I didn’t want to throw up on him.
He furrows his eyes, “What kind of sick love?"
"I'm going to throw up." I take in deep breathes and swallow really hard trying to stop it from coming out.
"Oh my God, hold on let me grab a bag." The sound of panic rises in his voice and he moves to the side. "Chan pass me those paper bags now." He tells him in a hurry and Chan does so.
I grab it out of his hands and start to gag. The gag came with all the breakfast I had eaten. I keep throwing up until my throat and stomach start to burn.
I shut my eyes in pain. A few tears falling from all the exhaustion.
His hand was holding my hair now and rubbing my back waiting for me to empty the contents in my tummy. "Are you done?" I nod my head and he takes the trash bag away.
"Here's water babygirl." Chan hands me the bottle and I drink it then lay on the chair in my eyes slowly closing.
"How are you feeling? Talk to us.” Han pops up out of no where.
"Mmm sleepy." I softly say and I hear a tiny ‘aww’.
"Here are you headphones. Get some rest then in a bit you can have some food yeah?" I hum in response and face the other way so I could fall asleep.
I keep twisting and turning until I can finally get some rest.
*
"Alright welcome to New York!" A big buff guy says welcoming us in the airport. He was accompanied with 2 other big buff guys and a tiny lady.
"You must be BangChan." She smiles and gives him a hand shake.
"Yes I am and these are straykids." He smiles and we all bow saying hello.
"Nice to meet you guys. Okay, so we heard that you guys were tired so we might just do a few pictures outside and then we can head off to the hotels." She says enthusiastically, "Your schedules will be handed to you by my assistant once you guys arrive. Any questions?"
"No not really. No questions as for now. We would like to say thank you for having us and thank you for being our tour manger this time round. We appreciate it. Also as a thank you we braught you some goodies from South Korea." Chan smiles and point to the basket Changbin is holding.
"Oh thank you so much! Please I hope you guys enjoy your stay. If you guys need anything, anything at all do not hesitate to contact me through your managers yes?" Chan smiles at her and we all give her a friendly wave before walking outside to flashing lights and into our different cars.
In the evening a few of the boys came at different times checking in on me. Luckily I hadn’t thrown up or had any other panic attack. I knew they were still mad at me but they wanted to know if I was good or not.
“Why do you guys keep coming to my room if you’re mad at me?” I ask Hyunjin and Han who were the last ones to check in.
“Just because we’re mad at you doesn’t mama we want you to be sick and unhealthy. We still care.” Hyunjin tells me while handing me a cup of warm
Milk.
“True now drink up so we can go for dinner,” I give Han a small smile before drinking the warm milk.
I couldn’t help but still frown though. The unsettling feeling of guilt just lingering in my tummy.
I just wanted my scolding to get over with so that they wouldn't be mad at me anymore and when I was sent a text to go to Chan's room. I knew it was time.
I put on my slippers and quickly make my way to his room and stare at the door.
“God I beg you, let me come out of this room alive. Amen” I whisper a small prayer before knocking.
"Hey you wanted to speak with me?" Chan answers with his laptop in one hand and phone in the other.
"Come in Y/n." He says softly and I walk into his room. Slowly by slowly I notice all the boys seating in different places; on the bed, chairs and tables.
I sigh and take a sit on the chair that was put in the middle of the room obviously for me. It felt like I was in court at this point. A sigh leaves my lips as I wait for them to start.
"Y/n. What you did was the most stupidest thing I've ever seen in my life." Chan says getting serious. His tone getting harsh.
I flinch at this but continue to listen to his scolding.
“Yes Chan I’m sorry.” I softly say looking at the carpet beneath me.
"I am disappointed in you, I really am. I'm not even going to explain to you in depth how much trouble I am in with your parents and JYP. They still think that it wasn't you in that picture because we had to lie and say you were home getting your hair dyed. Your lucky people are eating this shit up." His tone was now getting more harsher.
"As for your punishment,” I take a breath I’m hoping that it would be light, “Your not allowed to go anywhere unless your with the boys. You're grounded for 3 months. All your doing is going for practice, rehearsals and schedules. No where else. Understand?" Fuck.
"Yes BangChan." I say softly playing with the rings on my fingers.
"You can't even be trusted now. All my trust in you is gone. Do you know how many phone calls I've gotten?" I keep quiet. "Answer me, I'm talking to you."
"No Chan I don't" I reply.
"Exactly, so I hope you'll learn your lesson the hard way. Also whoever that little boy is, I never wanna see you with them until your dating contract is over understand? Fuck it I don’t want to see you with any boy at all whether they’re your friends or your bestfriends."
"Yes bangchan."
"Do any of you guys have anything to say?" He looks around the room to the rest of the boys who were giving me very stern looks.
"I hope you really learn your lesson love. We're only doing this because you're still young. You won't get it."
"Yes Hyunjin,"
"Okay now you can go on into your room." Chan says dismissing me.
I slowly get up and walk out of the room and into mine.
Atleast the scolding was over with and I wasn’t thrown out a window. Atleast now they won’t be angry at me.
My knees buckle as I make it into the dark bedroom but I'm able to stay steady. I walk and lay on the bed and scroll through my twitter reading the comments.
I find my self spiraling. The world spinning once again due to the mean comments and threats. I didn’t know why was doing this to myself, why was I reading such hateful things? I need a breather. Some fresh air. Without thinking, I drop my phone on my bed and grab my shoes.
I walk to the hotels stair case and start walking up the stairs.
When I get to the rooftop I sit down and take in the view. It was peaceful and quiet. No one was up there which made it even better.
I wipe my tears that I hadn’t noticed had fallen and start to calm down. Just enjoying the view. Enjoying being alone and taking a short break from people. From the commotion.
It felt like 30 minutes and when I come back down and walk into our corridor I see the guards standing outside us Chan is pacing up and down outside my door.
What were they doing? I question and make my way to them so I could get to my door.
"What's going on?" I ask furrowing my eyebrows.
"Y/n? Oh my God thank God." He sighs in relief. I swear I saw him tear a little too.
"What happened?" I asked everyone.
“It’s okay I found her, thank you though. I don’t know where she was but I’m about to find out. Yeah okay bye.” Chan hands up the phone and looks up at me, "Where did you go Y/n? I told you not to go anywhere without the boys!" He exclaims.
"Chan I just went upstairs to the rooftop. Is that wrong?" I ask him confused than before.
"You were just on the rooftop?" He asks unsure to believe what I’m saying.
"Yes I was. You can check the cameras if you don't believe me." I shrug and pull out my room keys.
"Then why weren't you picking up your phone? You scared me! I thought you runaway!" Hyunjin steps In.
"I left it inside because of all the hateful notifications I was getting," I sigh and look up at the boys.
"Hate notifications?" I.N asks confused.
"Yeah the hate is getting really bad, so I decided to go for a breather. No big deal. I didn't know I wasn't allowed to go anywhere in the hotel premises-"
"No no your allowed, I- I just started freaking out thinking you had run away or something. Go on into your room we'll be there in a bit." I shrug and watch him turn the guards who looked like they had seen a ghost.
Knowing the boys well, they probably had threatened them and cursed every living thing in their life time which I found kind of funny because of how Overprotective they were.
I enter my room and start dressing up for bed and removing my makeup.
When the door opens and closes and a few of the boys walk in. (Felix, Han and Chan) I look up at them confused.
"Would you maybe like to go bawling?" Han says softly.
"But isn't it late and I'm grounded-"
"We'll your grounded starting when we get to Korea. Right now we're in New York. Let's have some fun. My treat." Chan smiles and sits on my bed.
I knew they felt bad and I knew they didn't want me to be alone in the room to fight my thoughts.
"Come on it's a good distraction and we can grab some street food!" Felix chimes and rubs my shoulders.
"Okay fine I'll get dressed." I sigh tired.
"Unless you wanna stay in and watch a movie?" Han says looking at me worried.
"No no no, we can go I'm just a little tired."
"Oh then we're definitely staying in and watching a movie." Chan stands up from my bed and grabs his phone.
"We'll order in a lot of food and then go to sleeep yeah? I'll text the boys."
"Okay that's sounds relaxing."
"Yes it does AND we can finish of that game we couldn't last time."
"Yeah we can."
*
The food was really good and after so many questions about whether I wanted to throw up or not had passed, we were able to all lay in Chan's bed piling on top of eachother.
"I love you Y/nie" I.N says out of the blue and starts to poke my side.
"I love you more than he loves you," Felix jumps in.
"No I do!" Hyunjin says.
"Okay okay I get the point! I love you guys too. I geuss." I tease and they all chuckle.
"We hope your no longer sad about us scolding you, we really do mean well love,"
"I know I know, it's okay I deserved it. I'm sorry for being a handful."
"You're not a handful really, just a growing baby."
"Guys I'm 18, oh my God stop calling me a baby!!" I bury my face into the blankets and they all start laughing.
My little family.
**
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neonghostlights · 3 months
Text
Part Five
Series masterlist
“Steve called a lawyer and he’s on the way back,” Robin announced as she sat a plate of pizza in front of you.
You weren’t really in the mood to eat or argue.
“It’s not that bad,” Vickie said again as she read through the pages of the new magazine again, like it might be different this time around.
“It’s not bad, it’s awful,” Robin added.
Vickie shot her a look that told her to shut up.
You knew it was awful. Not only were there pictures of you but it also told the whole world where you were from, where you worked, where graduated from school and when you and Eddie had dated.
It also gave insight on why you two fell apart, and oddly the magazine blamed you. It painted you as a jealous villain in his attempt to become famous.
And how Eddie almost gave up his dreams because of you.
Jealousy was an issue but it went both ways and you had your reasons.
The article basically put a big neon sign on your back.
“I think if you just act normal it’ll all blow over,” Vickie said as you dropped your head into your hands. “If you let it destroy you then it will.”
“What do you want her to do? Go grocery shopping and pretend not everyone is staring at her?” Robin asked.
Vickie stuck her tongue out at her girlfriend. “I think if she shows people she doesn’t care what the world thinks then they won’t care either.”
You bit your lip, thinking about it for a moment.
Vickie might be right.
-
You put the cans of soup in your cart as you walked around the grocery store.
You had gotten a few odd looks from people, a few whispers but every one left you alone.
Besides, this was a small town. Every one knew you had dated Eddie anyways, it wasn’t like it had been a secret. It was the outsiders you were worried about.
But so far, Vickie has been right and as long as you didn’t make it weird then no one else did either.
You did a little happy dance on the inside as you went through check out and was only greeted by a bored teenage cashier.
You went through the automatic doors, bags in hand and fumbling to get a good grasp on your car keys.
“There she is!” Some one yelled and all feelings of happiness dropped in a heartbeat.
There was a group of people, probably about twenty of them screaming at you when you saw them. They weren’t worst part though.
There were reporters with cameras aimed at you.
You froze, debating whether you should run or try to fight them off when a black SUV screeched to a halt infront of you.
The window rolled down and all you heard was a voice yelling for you to hurry and get in.
You threw open the door and dove in without even thinking about it.
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etherealising · 8 months
Text
chapter six | didn’t i do it for you?
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masterlist | ↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣
pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader | platonic!richie jerimovich x fem!reader | platonic!natalie berzatto x fem!reader | platonic!neil fak x fem!reader
summary: carmy knows exactly what he wants regarding you, but past mistakes always come to rear their ugly heads
warning(s): angst | hurt slight comfort | slight fluff | semi-jealous carmy | mentions of substance abuse | mentions of overdose | mikey | mentions of suicide | implied miscarriage | language | self-destructive behavior | arguments | forced love confessions | carmy’s sad boi hours | actions having consequences | more barby lore | children | no use of y/n | afab reader |
wc: 10.9k
a/n: hi lovies, this chapter may be a bit heavier than previous ones so please take the warnings extra seriously. if you are triggered by any warning please do not read this chapter i’ll literally message you a summary of the chapter if you need it. i may have missed some warnings so if that’s the case i do apologize it was not intentional. lastly please remember YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA COSUMPTION….enjoy 🩵
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“You know, I-I don’t think my family meant to ruin it or anything like that, you know.”
Carmy was trying to be better, to be more open. And it was easiest at these Al-Anon meetings, no one knew him, and no one had any expectations of him.
“I-I don’t think they did it on purpose,” his hand subconsciously raised to the chain securely tucked under his crew neck, rubbing the metal through the fabric.
“I don-it’s not fair to blame them for everything,” a sardonic huff of laughter escaped Carmy as he thought of the words he was going to say. “I uh…I had a friend once…a best friend.”
“She was the first thing in life that I felt belonged to me,” Carmy frowned, having trouble articulating what he wanted to say. “And not li- I didn’t own her or anything, but she was my friend because she chose to be, not because she knew me through Mikey.”
“And then I…I fucked that relationship up myself…uhh and as I sat there trying to think of what provided amusement or joy in my life…I just thought of my childhood spent with her…by my side.” He cleared his throat forcing himself to remember that he would probably never interact with any of these people outside of these meetings.
Carmy’s hand dropped from its place where his covered chain sat, now gripping the armchair. “She’s uh she’s back in my life now and I…I want those things with her again I…I want to fix things with her, be the person she believes I am.”
Sydney’s curiosity the other day gave Carmy a lot to think about. He was so accustomed to looking at the picture above his stove daily, that he hadn’t even given it a second thought when he invited Sydney over. Her curiosity was understandable, the interactions you and Carmy shared hadn’t been the warmest but that Polaroid would suggest otherwise.
“Yeah. Anyway, I’m happy to be here.��� Carmy sat straighter in his chair, if he could admit his wants albeit vaguely to a room of strangers, he could admit his feelings to you. “Thank you, guys. Thanks for letting me share.”
Then he saw you at the grocery store, comfortable in someone else’s arms. He wasn’t jealous, or at least he didn’t think he was. But reality slapped him in the face, so sure of himself that the two of you could pick up where you left off he didn’t stop to think that maybe you didn’t want that anymore.
And then like the idiot he was, he gave Claire your number. He wanted to believe it wasn’t on purpose, that he had memorized your number so well it was the first he thought of when asked.
Carmy left the meeting hoping Claire didn’t call the number he gave her, hoping that you would be open to rekindling whatever relationship was left between you two.
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Your morning was off to a great start. Hayden surprised you with breakfast at the office and signed off on your article for The Bear as long as it didn’t get in the way of your work at The Tribune. The two of you even brainstormed the best way to go about telling the story.
Since your late-night grocery run with Hayden, the two of you had fallen back into the friendship you developed all those years ago. It felt good to be reconnected with him, and thankfully things weren’t awkward considering your past sexual history.
Neither of you admitted to it, but you both knew the opportunity to fall back into your old ways would soon present itself, you weren’t sure if it was an option you would take advantage of though. The two of you weren’t in college anymore and as pathetic as it sounded since your vulnerable conversation with Carmy the other day, your heart still held out hope that the two of you could build up the foundation for a romantic relationship.
Rounding the corner of Orleans Street you finally made it to your destination, happy to have taken in the fresh air mid-morning had to offer. You approached the door to the restaurant hoping someone would hear your knock and let you in.
You smiled as Sydney opened the door moving back to allow you in, you reached up to slide your headphones off as you greeted both her and Carmy.
“Good morning, is Nat in?” The text you received on the train ride over from the oldest Berzatto was pushed to the back of your mind until now.
The urgent ‘we need to talk,’ text had worried you at first, but you had rationalized that Nat could’ve been referring to anything.
“Uh yeah, she’s in the office.” You nodded at Syd giving her a small smile in thanks before turning to make your way to the back.
“Oh hey, do you like have a second or…” You stopped in your tracks turning back to face the two chefs looking between them curiously before nodding once more.
You smiled waiting for one of them to speak, “Uh yeah can we make this quick though I need to speak with Nat.” You did your best to sound nonchalant, the longer you stood out here the more your anxiety began to rise, mind racing with what Nat needed to speak with you about.
“Yeah yeah of course,” Sydney stepped away from the door moving near Carmy who had remained silent since your entrance. “We were thinking of sending Marcus to Copenhagen and I know you stayed there, not like in a weird way but because I read your articles you know.”
You nodded your head eyebrows raised as a signal for Sydney to continue. You did your best to ignore Carmy’s stare while Syd rambled on about their idea and how the trip would help to inspire Marcus.
“…So we were wondering if you had any suggestions?” Her raised eyebrows stared back at you.
“Sorry suggestions for what?” The confusion was easily readable on your face, Syd’s excitement at the prospect overwhelmed you.
You watched as the two chefs stared at you, Carmy’s signature blank stare and Syd’s slightly hurt reaction that you weren’t paying attention.
“Oh uh for accommodations…in Copenhagen.”
The question surprised you, eyes darting to Carmy before focusing back on Sydney. You knew Carmen spent time in Copenhagen, so the fact that they were asking you for suggestions seemed a bit redundant.
Albeit stunned by the questions you smiled moving towards where the two of them were sitting, memories of your month spent in Copenhagen playing in your mind like a movie. The trip was months before Mikey’s passing and now as you think about it, it felt like that was the last time you had fun, and lived life without the worry that so often filled you now.
A chuckle left your lips as you leaned against the counter looking from Syd to Carmy, “I uh I stayed with the chef I was profiling.” You bit your lip trying to contain the grin threatening to split your lips, “I still have his number I could call him if you want. He kind of owes me a favor anyway.”
Carmy’s arms fashioned themselves across his chest, a frown pulling at his eyebrows. There was so much he didn’t know about you including the fact that you had spent time in Europe with some mystery chef.
“Oh yeah? What uh-who was the chef you wrote about? Maybe I know him.” Carmy’s words surprised you, the look you exchanged with Sydney proved that he didn't come across as casual as he was trying to.
You raised from your position against the counter, “Chef Luca?” Your voice trailed off a bit before the smile you were trying to contain finally made its appearance, “He’s this amazing pastry chef, who’s so passionate about his craft it was like watching a master at work!”
Carmy watched as you gushed about his former colleague, annoyance clawing at his throat as he took notice of just how happy the memories made you.
“Luca even taught me how to make this crazy dessert he was still perfecting, I mean mine was nothing compared to his but it was honestly the most fun I’d had in so long.” You reminisced about your time spent with Luca, “Oh, and my peach cobbler? Yeah, he taught me the simple syr-.”
“No yeah, I’m familiar with him.” Both you and Sydney were pulled from your animated conversation; the tight smile on Carmy’s face alerted you of his irritation.
You nodded, feeling a little bad at your rambling, “Okay well I’ll just go see Nat now, let me know if you need me to make that call.” You drummed your hands against the counter before turning around to take your leave.
“Hey uh, Baby?” You turned your head before disappearing around the corner eyebrows raised as you looked at Carmy. “Do you think we could maybe talk later?” You watched as his hand came up to scratch the back of his neck.
Sydney watched the interaction play out between the two of you, a small smirk lining her lips as she watched how flustered Carmy got just by asking you a simple question.
Your lips tugged up into a small smile, “Sure thing Carm, I’ll come back when I’m done with Nat.”
Carmy was sure his heart was beating so loud Sydney could hear it, the nickname something he hadn’t heard spilled from your lips in so long. The small smile he briefly caught did wonders for his already lacking confidence, he was now sure more than ever that there was a chance to fix things with you.
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You entered the office to see Natalie pouring over documents presumably to do with permits and money in regards to the restaurant. You took a step forward momentarily stopping at Nat’s voice.
“Close and lock the door behind you please,” The lack of eye contact was grating on your nerves, either Natalie was completely stressed about her role as project manager or you had yet again colossally fucked up.
You did as told not wanting to further irritate your very pregnant friend. The office was silent neither of you spoke up as Natalie finished looking over the latest paper she had picked up.
She looked exhausted and you felt horrible knowing you had potentially added more stress onto her already-loaded plate. Nat gave you a small smile though her eyes looked anything but happy.
“Cortez called me this morning,” Nat’s eyebrows raised as she pointedly stared at you. Your head fell back against the door a quiet ‘fuck’ mumbled into the air. “Said this was the third meeting you missed.”
Nat waited for you to return your attention to her, “I’m only going to ask you this once Baby, and I really need you to be honest with me.” Nat leaned forward in the chair, closing a bit of the space between you so you would hear her quiet voice, “Are you using again?”
You sighed leave it to Cortez to fucking snitch you out, you didn’t realize that being a snitch was a requirement if you were someone’s sponsor.
“Baby?” Your eyes connected with Nat’s the softness of her voice and the watery appearance in her eyes told you just how worried she was.
Your head shook back and forth rapidly as you raised your hand to massage your temples, “I’m not using Nat I promise. And I know that means jack shit coming from an addict but I promise I’m doing good.” You took a deep breath calming your budding agitation, you knew Nat was worried and it wasn’t her that you were annoyed at but yourself.
“I uh…I’ve been stuck on step eight since I joined this whole rebranding project, and I…I knew that Cortez would be persistent in me getting it done.” You grimaced at the fact that you had already missed three meetings, you hadn’t realized how far things had gotten, “It’s just things felt normal again and I guess I thought I could just pretend like everything was okay.”
Natalie nodded as she listened to your explanation, she hated it but there was always a part of her that would be apprehensive. She had seen the manipulation substance abuse breeds firsthand when she stayed with you in the hospital after your overdose, it hurt her to see you hurting. To sit back and watch as the withdrawal symptoms ate away at you as you would fiend for a fix that you took your pain out on her and Pete.
Nat quickly turned to where her purse was sitting pulling out a box the two of you were all too familiar with.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Your face scrunched up in anger, the emotion slowly residing as you watched Nat close her eyes and take a deep breath in. You felt like a complete asshole you knew Nat wasn’t doing this of her own volition and you had no one to blame but yourself for the predicament you were now in.
“Nat shit, I’m sorry you didn’t deserve that. But you really can’t expect me to take that here.” Your hand thrust out to the box that seemed to be taunting you.
“Baby you know the rules. I don’t like this as much anymore than you but when you just decide you don’t need to meet with your sponsor anymore, these are the measures we have to resort to.”
“Lead the way, Mom.” Natalie let out a small chuckle at your antics, thankful that you were being somewhat logical, “Wait is there a bag we can throw this away in, we can’t just leave the evidence in the bathroom.” The two of you turned to search through the office sure you would find a stray plastic bag lying somewhere.
You popped up, a plastic baggie securely in your grasp, “Does the toilet even work?” Nat shrugged, walking past you and making her way to the bathroom leaving you to follow behind.
“Aww yeah, party in the bathroom! Am I invited?” Nat stopped as Fak stood in front of the two of you hastily moving the bag behind her back doing her best to be inconspicuous.
“Sorry my love girls only, maybe next time,” Nat gave Fak a pat on the shoulder and her signature smile before maneuvering the two of you around him.
“Wait, is it that time of the month for us? Cause I think our cycles might be synced, I’ve been having the most insane cramps lately.” The words that left Fak’s mouth would never cease to surprise you.
“You know, I think you might be right Fak, my lower back has been killing me.” You indulged in Fak’s shenanigans, the man falling in line to walk with you as the two of you followed Natalie to the front.
Fak nodded along with you “No I’m like feeling it, should I invest in a heating pad?”
You snickered at Fak, “I usually just fill up a sock with rice and throw it in the microwave.” You shrugged like the conversation was a completely normal occurrence. “The first day is always the worst for me, my breasts get so tender.”
Fak raised his own hands to his chest cupping his pecs “Baby tell me about it, it’s just like one touch and I’m crying.” You could see Carmy’s confused look from your peripheral as your group finally made it to the bathroom.
“I could totally massage your breast Fak, but you would have to return the favor. It's only fair if you’re a part of the sisterhood.” You watched as Fak nodded his head rapidly, hands raising in the air and hovering in front of your breast.
“Wait, is this an actual thing?”
“Oh yeah me and Nat do it all the time, that’s actually why we’re going to the bathroom now.” Fak’s eyes darted to Nat before looking back at his hands inching closer to your breast.
“Wait no, I don’t want Carmy to be mad at me.” The two of you looked in Carmy’s direction, the man still watching just as confused as earlier.
You shrugged before turning back to Fak, “I can assure you Carmy would not give a single fuck if you touched my breast, Neil.”
The aforementioned man took in a gasp of breath before clearing his throat and slowly moving down the counter to get a better listen at what the hell the two of you were doing.
You, Nat, and Carmy waited to see what Fak’s next move would be, the smile raising to your face hard to keep under wraps, Fak was adorably easy to mess with.
Fak’s hands began to inch forward concentration clear as day on his face before a small shriek left his lips, “Baby I’m sorry, Carmy’s my best friend, I don’t think I can do this for you.”
You laughed at the disappointment in Fak’s voice, “Your loss babes, I know 16-year-old Fak would’ve killed for this moment.” Your hand raised to pat his cheek before you finally left his side and entered the bathroom as Nat held the door open for you.
“She was lying to you my love, we don’t massage each other's breasts.” With those last words, Nat shut the door on a disappointed Fak and a mildly annoyed Carmy.
Fak turned back to look at Carmy with an apology in his eyes, “I’m so sorry Carmy, teenage Fak was really fighting to come out right now but I know Baby’s your girl.”
Carmy frowned at Fak’s words, the irritation running through him at yours and Fak’s stupid antics. “She’s uh…she’s not my girl. Baby and I are just friends.”
Fak smiled widely in Carmy’s direction, “That’s great, you really should think about getting a girlfriend then, I just want you to be happy Carmy.” Fak began walking to the back to help move the appliances. Carmy let out a chuckle as he heard Fak mumble about missing his once-in-a-lifetime chance.
Carmy shook his head back and forth, having you back really was just like old times. He wouldn’t ever say anything out loud but Carmy was actually really glad he didn’t have to stand there and watch Fak fondle you.
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“Pete said the two of you have a lunch date planned.” Your head shot up to Nat, the air had been a little stilted between the two of you since she had brandished the drug test.
A laugh bubbled out of you, “Doesn’t seem like the proper environment for a casual chat Nat.” You gestured to the dinghy bathroom you were in, emphasizing the urine sample sitting on the sink while the two of you awaited the results.
You watched the smile rise to Natalie’s lips, a somber look overcast on her face, “I’m not doing this because I want to Baby.” Nat’s voice took on a gravelly tone.
Natalie didn’t deserve this, she had already basically nursed you back to health once. And now here she and Pete were about to bring a life into this world, and here you were a grown adult still expecting everyone else to fix your problems. You knew Natalie didn’t need the stress and worry your life choices brought forth and if your overdose wasn’t a wake-up call enough, then Nat’s haggard appearance as you two stood in the bathroom sure was.
“I know and I apologize Nat. Really livin' up to my nickname aren’t I?” Nat chuckled listening to your apology. “There’s no excuse for my behavior. I know what’s expected of me I-”
Your words were cut off by the shrill ringing of your phone. The noise caused the two of you to jolt in the small bathroom. You quickly removed the device from your back pocket, it was a Chicago area code, but you already had everyone you knew here saved in your contacts.
“You gonna answer that?” Your eyes flashed to Nat, her eyebrows raised in question.
You took one last glance at the number trying to place it before clicking the power button and slipping it back into your pocket, “If it’s important they’ll leave a voicemail.”
“Anyway, I shouldn’t constantly depend on you to clean up my messes Nat, I don’t think I’ve been the best friend recently. And it should be you depending on me considering,” you waved your hand over her figure scared that if you spoke the word someone might hear. “I promise to do better Nat, I want to be around to help with the little gremlin.”
Nat raised her hand to wipe the few tears that were falling, making her way over to pull you into an embrace, “These damn hormones make me so emotional.”
You chuckled rubbing up and down Natalie’s back, “You’d be crying even if you weren’t compromised.”
The hug lasted up until the timer on Nat’s phone sounded, signaling the results were ready. The two of you pulled apart, with Nat sending you a reassuring smile.
It didn’t matter if you knew you hadn’t touched any substances since your hospitalization, you would always be nervous when it was time to read off the results. You waited with bated breath as Nat read over the testing stick, you would set up a meeting with Cortez as soon as you got the chance.
The sigh of relief Natalie let out stung you a bit, but you could understand her apprehension it wasn’t easy trusting a recovering addict.
“It’s negative Babes.” A sigh of relief left you.
A wide grin raising to your lips, “I told you so.” Nat rolled her eyes at the sing-song sound of your voice.
The two of you made quick work of cleaning up the bathroom, small talk about your future lunch with Pete floating around as you made sure all evidence was disposed of in the plastic bag.
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Carmy watched as Sugar exited the bathroom the same drugstore bag from earlier in her hand. He sent a nod in her direction as she smiled at him before making her leave. Carmy was set to meet up with Syd in 30 minutes but he was hoping to speak with you before he took his leave, unsure if you would still be here later.
He returned his attention to the calendars with the timeline to open, checking off things that had already been taken care of and adding anything he wanted to double-check.
“You free to talk now, Carm?” He turned at the sound of your voice, a shy smile lining his cheeks as he took in the smile on your lips.
“Uh yeah, yeah if you’re free,” You nodded, coming to stand across from Carmy the old counter directly between you two.
Carmy’s eyes took in the sweater you were wearing, similar to the style in his but while his was a nice grey color, yours was a deep green. The familiarity of the crew neck finally dawned on him as he realized it was his crew neck you were wearing, the last time he saw it was the night he left you in his apartment all those months ago expecting to still see you there when he returned home.
It was silent as the two of you stared at each other, a giggle escaped your lips at the lost look on Carmy’s face. “What’d you wanna talk about Carmy?”
Carmy nodded trying to remove the memories from his mind, “I uh…I know I ruined our friendship and…and whatever was left of it.” He paused, eyes falling to the crew neck carefully wrapped around you, the memory of watching you get dressed after the shower you shared swimming around in his head, the extra pictures of the two of you tucked safely into his bedside drawer.
“Carm hey,” he watched as your knuckles knocked against the counter to bring him back to the present time.
“Yeah, I uh I just have a lot I think we should talk about Baby, and maybe the restaurant wasn’t the best place for it.” He reached up to scratch the back of his neck, nerves running haywire.
You nodded a serious look painted on your face, you were sure you knew what Carmen wanted to speak about but you also had secrets of your own you wanted to share with him.
“I…I want us to try and be friends again or at least be cordial with each other…if that’s not too much to ask.” Carmy huffs out a breath of laughter, eyes latching onto your figure in front of him.
He watches as you appear to be thinking, most likely retracing the path of your relationship through the years memories running through your head that he has absolutely no idea exists.
“Carmy, you’ve never not been my friend but a lot of your choices hurt m-.” Your phone rang again echoing off the walls in the front of the restaurant.
You gave Carmy a small smile before removing your phone, the number that’s calling you is the same one that called while you were in the bathroom with Nat earlier. You raise your finger to Carmy, gesturing that you need to take the call.
“Hello.” You wait as the other line stays quiet.
“Baby?”
You frown looking up at Carmy as he watches you hoping your call ends soon, “Uh I’m sorry who is this?”
“Oh, it’s me, uh…Claire. We lived down the street from each other as kids?” A gasp escaped your lips, surprised that she was calling you.
You move the phone from your mouth. Hand moving up to cover it as your eyes find Carmy’s “It’s Claire.” Your whisper takes a moment to register in his ears, too caught up in the bright smile on your face.
“Wow, it's so good to hear from you. Um, I hope I don’t sound rude but how exactly did you get my number?” You watched as Carmy ran a hand across his mouth, eyes wide your name slipped past his lips the dire need to get you off that call racing through him.
You held your finger up to him signaling to give you a moment, too wrapped up in miraculously connecting with an old friend.
“Oh um, this is going to sound weird. I uh…I ran into Carmy the other night at the grocery store and when I asked him for his number…this is the number he gave me.” You listened as Claire spoke, the smile quickly disappearing from your lips as your eyes found Carmy’s alarmed ones.
“Carmen gave you my number?” You watched the regret flash through his eyes.
“Mhm.”
“And claimed it was his?”
“Uh kinda yeah, it’s a bit weird but maybe he was just planning to call you or something.” A small laugh left your lips, if he hadn’t called you since he last saw you, you could bet he had no plans to ever call you.
“Yeah…fuckng bizarre.” You could feel the lump forming in your throat.
“Sorry if this is weird but do you think you could give me his number?” It felt like senior year all over again and you were the bridge between these two souls
An ironic smile rose to your lips as you stared directly at Carmy, the panic glaringly obvious in his eyes because he couldn’t hear Claire’s responses.
“Oh, Claire Bear I’m so sorry I haven’t spoken to Carmy in what’s it been?” You paused your glare on Carmy impenetrable.
“Five years, since high school graduation. I don’t even have his number.” The crack in your voice was evident to all who could hear, Carmy wished he could disappear at that moment.
“Oh no, is everything okay with you two?”
“You’re too sweet. You know how it is people change, they grow apart. I just think Carmy outgrew me.” It was becoming harder and harder to swallow your tears.
“Wow, I’m sorry to hear that Baby. But I heard you're back in Chicago, maybe we can catch up?”
“Claire I’d love that, hey before you go try Fak for Carmy’s number I’ve heard they’re extremely close now, have a great rest of your day!” You listened as Claire said her goodbyes quickly, hanging up and placing your phone back in its designated pocket.
It was silent as you raised your head to the ceiling, a disbelieving laugh escaped your lips as you felt the tears trace down your cheeks. You were getting fucking tired of crying.
“Baby hey, hey let me exp-,” Carmy’s pleas were cut short as both of your eyes shot to his now ringing phone on the counter. Neither of you needed to be a fucking genius to figure out who was ringing Carmy’s line.
“Answer quickly Carmen, your little girlfriend is calling.” You knew it was petty and you shouldn’t be upset with Claire for chasing after what she wanted, but for once you didn’t want to be the one fighting for scraps of Carmy’s affection.
You didn’t want to have to share.
His hand quickly shot out pressing the power button on the side silencing the ringing, taking the extra step and turning it face down as he watched you just stare at it.
“Baby I-,”
“Why are you the way you are?” You were tired of putting Carmy and his feelings ahead of yourself, tired of running yourself ragged to accommodate your feelings for a grown man who was too scared of the truth.
“I-” You took a deep breath to collect your thoughts. “I’m so hurt right now Carmen and I want to be angry, I want to be so fucking angry with you but I’m just hurt and exhausted, and I…I really don’t even want to waste my breath on you right now, but I’ve put up with a lot of your shit and I think I’m just done.” Carmy flinched at the sardonic laugh you let loose.
“It hurts Carmen…it hurts when the person you’ve been truly in love with for most of your life doesn’t even treat you like an option.” You ignored the sharp intake of breath that came from Carmen’s direction, surprised he even had the guts to listen to your rant.
The ringing in his ears along with your broken voice overwhelmed him.
“I have lived so much of my life for you and yeah I was stupid for that, but all I wanted was your happiness and all I wanted was happiness with you. I have given so much of myself to you Carmen I have lost pieces of u- of myself to you, Carmen.” The tears were raining down in full force.
It was one thing to cry when you were hurt but to cry out of anger and exhaustion would probably always be the worst feeling.
“All I wanted was for you to love me the way I loved you…the way I will continue loving you after today because the way I feel for you won’t just go away Carmen it will be stuck with me forever! What I lost to you will be stuck with me forever! And…and we spend this amazing weekend together and I accept that you can’t commit to me and I give you the benefit of the doubt because Mikey just died and you…fuck.” Your hand slammed against the counter top your thoughts all over the place.
“You take my number that you’ve had for a year and you give it to some girl that you had some stupid pathetic high school fucking crush on. I’m not even worth a fucking phone call to you Carmen! And I…I’m not even supposed to be here right now but you wouldn’t fucking know because your too much of a fucking coward to allow yourself to be loved to be happy!”
You could feel the oncoming migraine from how loud you were shouting, you did your best to ignore the gathering crowd, Nat and Richie at the forefront watching with worried glances, as Marcus Fak and the rest of the crew peaked through from the back.
A shuddering breath floated through your lips as you felt the lifetime of exhaustion catch up with you. “I almost gave you all of me Carmen. Please just leave me alone” The words escaped your throat in a hoarse whisper. You were so far gone that you couldn’t even see the look of heartbreak and despair marring Carmen’s features.
“Baby, hey!” Your eyes shot to Richie as he blocked your line of vision to Carmen's. Head shaking back and forth arms slowly reaching out before coming to rest on your biceps thumbs gently massaging into them. “Let’s take a break Baby calm down a bit yeah?” He nodded his head waiting for you to nod along before he led you to the back, making sure to block your view of Carmen.
You were shaking as the two of you made your way past Nat a whispered ‘I’m sorry’ leaving your lips as she was left to deal with the mess that was Carmy.
“Fuck!” The loud crashes of a heavy object slamming into the floor caused you to jump in Richie’s hold as he led you back into the office.
Little tremors shook through your body as Richie carefully guided you to sit in the lone office chair. Taking his position by your legs as he squatted in front of you, worry etched into his features at having never seen you react like that.
Your hands came to grip Richie's, the tear tracks on your face now dried, you were almost positive you had run out of tears to cry.
“I lost everything, Richie,” your voice was strained. “And I…I spared him because I knew he couldn’t handle it, you knew he couldn’t handle it…not after Mikey.”
Richie’s eyes squeezed closed as he raised your intertwined hands to his forehead, haunting memories of you forcing their way through. He dropped your hands delicately cupping your face to press a kiss on your forehead, “I know Baby.” The words were spoken softly against your skin.
The two of you sat in that position as you gained control of your ragged breathing.
“I’m a hypocrite, Rich,” you separated yourself from him, locking eyes. “I blamed Carmy for so much out there…but I’ve done something so unforgivable, I don’t think you’ll look at me the same.” You wanted to cry but the exhaustion ate away at you.
“Hey I’ve been through some shit Baby, we’ve been through some shit, nothing,” the firm grip on your chin reminded you of the lost soul who should’ve been in the room with you two. “Look at me when I’m talking to you. Nothing you say will change how I look at you.”
It was always weird to see Richie serious and the voice of reason, not that he didn’t have his moments, but seeing Rich without his signature smile made it feel like you had stripped him of something so personal.
“How bout this, Sug or I take you before you beat Carmy’s ass,” the sentence drew a small laugh out of you. “And then I’ll come over when I’m done here, pick up some dinner and we’ll have one of those nights like we used to when…when Mikey was still here.” You nodded your head not having enough energy to produce words.
Richie patted your knee rising to his full height as he headed to check on Sug and his idiot of a fucking cousin. “Oh hey, I’ll have Eva tonight, you don’t mind do you? She’s constantly on my ass about seeing her auntie Bebe.” Richie stood in the now open doorway awaiting your answer.
Your immediate response was yes, but you had to consider Tiff, unsure if she wanted her daughter around you considering your newly acquired title as recovering addict.
“I’d like that a lot, but I-I think you should get Tiff’s permission to bring Eva around me.” You knew your suggestion might upset Richie but it was for the best, and you would call Tiff yourself just to double-check.
“Hey no none of that shit, she’s my fucking kid too Baby.” The defensive tone in his voice immediately caused you to close your eyes, hands moving to massage your temples.
“Richie please, I just need you to do this for me okay? This isn’t about your parenting skills, Rich.” Richie watched you for a minute, the exhaustion noticeable.
He nodded sending you one last somber look before making his exit keen on chewing his little fucking asshole cousin a new one.
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Richie could feel his anger rising in him as he walked past Marcus and Fak as they worked to remove appliances from the kitchen. He quickly sauntered toward the whispers of Sugar and Carmy becoming clearer as he finally made it to the front of the restaurant.
The first thing his eyes took notice of was the destroyed cash register lying in the middle of the floor, debris from the relic scattered across the room. Richie stood there taking in the scene, the two Berzatto siblings' conversation coming to a halt as Richie blew out a whistle, walking around the mess slowly clapping.
“You’re a real fucking piece of work Cousin,” Richie’s hand shot out to point in Carmy’s direction the younger man looking disheveled, the frown on his face almost comical.
Natalie felt her shoulders tense; she had known these two long enough to know nothing good would come out of this interaction. The fact that you were in the middle of all this would make whatever happened right now all the worse.
There were two things in the world Richie didn’t play about, little Eva; and you.
“Richie I don’t need your fucking bullshit right now.” Carmy moved to walk around the counter, hands fumbling in his pocket to get his cigarettes out, his focus on the door he was trying to escape through.
“You’re a piece of shit cousin.” Richie’s hands shot out to grip the collar of Carmy’s crew neck, shoving him into the counter.
Natalie’s shocked gasp of Richie’s name did nothing to tear the men away from each other.
“Get the fuck outta my face, Richie.” The shorter man shoved the man standing in front of him.
A rueful smile raised to Richie’s lips “That girl has bent over backward for your conceited ass time and time again, and you go and ruin the only good fucking thing you have going for yourself.” Richie’s hand raised thumb and middle finger moving to flick Carmy between the brows.
“You’re the last person that gets to talk to me about fucking ruining good things in my life.” Carmy’s free hand moved to swat at Richie’s.
“That empty fucking head of yours is so far up your ass you can’t see what the fucks been in front of you this whole time.
“Yo fuck you, Richie!”
The two loud voices echoed throughout the restaurant as the angry men tried to outyell each other.
“No you fucking listen to me! You don’t know what the fuck that girls been through. Where the fuck were you when shit went down Carmen! Huh!” Richie shoved Carmy again, the anger he felt for you pouring through him.
“Why the fuck weren’t you there for her whe-.”
“Richie!” Natalie’s stern voice caused Richie to harness some of his anger. “No.” The subtle shake of her head stopped his sentence mid-thought.
“You’re worse than the shit on the bottom of my shoe, and you don’t deserve to touch one pretty little hair on that girl’s head. And if I ever have to listen to her cry over you, watch her hurt over you again, you’re gonna wish Mikey was still here to save your ass.” Richie’s hand shot out to slap against the side of Carmen’s head, “Fucking bum.”
He removed himself from Carmy’s space, hands immediately raising as he faced Nat’s exhausted stare. “Sug I’m sorry, but get Baby home will you? I gotta finish up shit round here.”
Richie left the two Berzatto siblings to stand in the now quiet front of the restaurant, the sooner he finished his shit here, the sooner he and Eva could spend the evening with you.
Natalie looked at her younger brother scared of how this sequence of events would affect him. She took a step forward hand reaching out to Carmy before dropping it, “Hey, you okay?” The two siblings stood in silence, one worried about the well-being of her remaining brother.
And the other was trying to collect his racing thoughts, too many zooming through for him to even land on one.
“Where are we with the permits?” To Carmy’s ears, it sounded like he was underwater, his voice muffled, barely loud enough to be heard.
“Carm-.” Nat’s words were cut off with no chance of consoling him.
“Just get her home Nat and get back to me on those permits please.” Natalie watched as Carmy collected his phone and jacket, an unfocused wave of his hand sent in her direction before making his way through the exit, disappearing to who knows where.
Natalie watched as the front door latched shut, she couldn’t help but feel guilty for pushing you into this environment. If she had just let you re-acclimate yourself on your own time, maybe this situation could’ve been avoided.
Her hand fell to her stomach, eyes following suit, “Welcome to the family little one.”
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The sound of your doorbell constantly ringing tore your stare away from the bottle sitting on your coffee table. You sat still for a minute before remembering the plans you made with Richie earlier in the day, your eyes shooting to the bottle before you quickly moved to hide it behind one of the couch pillows.
Since Natalie dropped you off earlier you had gone back and forth with the idea of finally coming clean to Richie. Your decision was led by your emotions from earlier in the day, but after finding the bottle of champagne you received in The Tribune’s welcome basket shoved in the back of your pantry, you were sorely rethinking your decision.
You adjusted the pillow to disguise any misshapen lumps before hurrying to the door to greet your guest. Hoping the forced smile was enough you opened the door feeling the once-fake smile begin to settle into a genuine one as you took in the father-daughter duo on your porch.
“Auntie Bebe!” You laughed, a lump forming in your throat at how big the young girl seemed to have gotten.
“Little E is that you?” Eva giggled at the exaggerated gasp you let out before throwing herself against your legs squeezing you tight.
She unlatched herself from you before gripping your hand and moving into the house, “Daddy bought us pizza!”
“Hey, Eva take your shoes off.” Richie gave you a small smile as he scolded the little girl, her huff of annoyance not going unnoticed by the two of you.
Richie finally walked through the door shutting and locking it behind him staring at you as he waited for instructions, “Hey E go ahead to the living room and pick out something to watch okay? I’m gonna help your dad real quick.”
You were rewarded with her adorable smile as she ran in the direction you pointed her to. You turned back to Richie taking the two pizza boxes from his hand to allow him to remove his shoes and jacket.
The two of you made your way to the kitchen setting the boxes down on your island with a clear view of Eva scrolling through your tv. You maneuvered around the kitchen for plates before brandishing them to Richie, eyes caught on Eva’s small figure in your living room.
“She’s gotten so big,” the tears you thought had run out earlier were once again making their appearance.
Richie’s head turned to you, “Aww Baby look at you ready to cry and shit, you just saw her a year ago.”
You listened to Richie’s intoxicating laugh, trying your best to find the humor in his words. The notion was hard though when the last memory you could’ve had of the sweet little girl waiting for the two of you in the living room was holding her at a funeral that could have just as easily been yours.
“You coming Baby?” Richie’s raised brows were aimed at you, he had already made his way to the living room setting the smaller plate in front of Eva.
You cleared your throat nodding your head with a forced smile on your lips. It was settled, Richie had every right to know that there could have been a universe where he had to survive without Mikey and you.
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Eva was cuddled into your side as your fingers stoked through her blonde locks, her smaller hand playing with the rings on your free hand. The two of you sat staring at the paused episode of ‘The Dragon Prince’ waiting for Richie to return from the bathroom.
Sitting with Eva in your living room made your heart heavy with what could’ve been. A small sad smile traced your lips as you leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on the crown of her head.
Eva’s head turned to yours, her tongue poking out at you as you returned the gesture, the two of you going back and forth making silly faces at each other before she released a small yawn. You watched as her small hand rose to gently run her little fingers across the scars on your face.
“Auntie Bebe?” You made a small noise to let her know you were listening. “Are you going to die?”
Your brows pinched together, Eva’s hand prodded at the scar between your eyebrows that was now more prominent, “Hey hey, where is this coming from?”
Her hand lowered to her lap as she turned her attention back to your ring-clad hand. “Mommy said you were sick…like Uncle Mikey…and that you tried to be with him.”
The ache in your chest was instant, you knew Tiff had tried to explain why you hadn’t visited but you didn’t know Eva had such an understanding of everything.
She raised your hand so it was in front of the two of you, little fingers dancing across yours, “And Uncle Mikey left us 'cause he was sick and I don’t want you to leave to Bebe.”
“Little E, look at me,” you waited as she adjusted next to you small body, cuddling into you more as her face turned to you. “I was sick…just like Uncle Mikey, but I’m doing a lot better now. And I got hurt, that’s why I have these scars on my face but a lot of good people helped me, like Auntie Nat, and even your mom.”
You stopped allowing the child to digest your words, you were trying to explain things in the simplest terms, and the small girl next to you didn’t need to know any of the details. “As much as I miss Uncle Mikey I could never leave behind my Little E.”
Eva shrieked as you moved forward to tickle her doing your best to make a very tough conversation end on a light note for the sweet little girl who brought joy to your world.
“How about some ice cream, yeah?” You watched as the small girl nodded up and down excitedly, her arms coming up to wrap around your neck as she planted a small kiss on your cheek.
“I missed you, Auntie Bebe.”
Your hand reached out to ruffle the girl's hair, “I missed you too Little E.” She removed herself from around you laying across the empty couch cushions.
You let out a little laugh before grabbing the empty plates and moving to the kitchen to get Eva her ice cream. You jumped at the sight of Richie leaning against the island in your kitchen arms crossed against his chest.
“Why are you standing in my kitchen like a fucking weirdo Richie,” you laughed moving to place the plates in the sink before grabbing a bowl for the ice cream. “Eva’s okay to have ice cream right, I know it's a little late bu-”
“What the hell was Eva talking about Baby,” you looked over your shoulder Richie’s stern eyes focused on you eyes piercing through you as opposed to at you.
You sat the bowl and ice cream on the island before searching for your ice cream scooper, the silence droning on as you began scooping out ice cream for Eva.
“I fucked up Richie,” you finally looked up to Richie eyes wet with tears as you watched him tightly shut his eyes and begin shaking his head back and forth. Not prepared for what he was about to hear.
You quickly finished with ice cream, returning everything to its location and dropping the scoop in the sink before grabbing a spoon. You made your way to Eva sending her a small smile as you handed the bowl to her, “I need to talk to your daddy okay? Go ahead and finish watching without us mamas.” Your words went in one ear and out the other, her attention fully on the treat in her hands. You gave her one last smile before braving yourself for what the kitchen had in store for you.
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“I uh…I was in a bad place after Chicago we had just buried Mikey and then…the hospital happened,” you stopped taking a deep breath to get through this conversation. “I should’ve come home Richie I-.” You couldn’t get the words out your throat felt like it was constricting. It felt as though if you tried confessing you would choke on the words before you could even come clean to Richie.
Richie sat next to you at your small circular dining table chair turned towards you, eyes flicking to Eva’s figure every few seconds to make sure she was okay. Richie wasn’t even sure he wanted you to continue, but a huge part of him needed to know what you went through, he thought he had already seen you at your lowest point but the gravity of your words assured him that was nothing compared to the confession you were about to lay at his feet.
“I overdosed Rich.” Richie froze having thought he hadn’t heard you correctly for a second but as he watched the despair take over your face, he knew he heard you right.
His hand came up to wipe across his mouth, the reality of your words barely setting in. “Baby no, no, no, no.” The laugh that accompanied his words morphed into a silent sob as he tucked his head into his hands.
You swallowed your cry fighting to escape as you turned to make sure Eva was still okay, a reprieve from the hard conversation you were having.
You moved from your chair standing in front of Richie so you could console him, his arms wrapped around your waist as his head settled against your stomach, the shaking of his body proof to you that cries were still wracking his body.
The silent sobs turned into quiet cries, his hands gripping the extra fabric of your shirt at the waist. Your tears could no longer be held back bending at the waist you rested your forehead against the back of Richie’s head.
While Richie was crying over the sister he almost lost; you cried over the lives you ruined.
“Auntie Bebe I finished my ice cream!” You took in a deep breath against Richie’s head moving your own from its previous position.
You moved to step out of Richie’s grip, his hands tightening around your shirt tears seeping through to dampen your skin. “I gotta help E, I promise I’ll be back Richie.”
The breath you took in choked you as you had to pry Richie’s clenched fingers out of the fabric of your shirt. You quickly wiped your cheeks before making your way over to Eva grabbing the bowl from her hands and sending her a forced smile.
“Can I spend the night Bebe?” The hope in her eyes made your chest heave.
“How about I call your mom tomorrow and we arrange something for another time, is that okay with you?” Your hands brushed across her forehead, clearing the hair from her face.
She pouted, sinking into the couch cushion, “E, hey you can come visit me whenever, but tonight just isn’t a good night for a sleepover.”
You watched as her eyes began to water, “But what if you try to leave again?” You hadn’t realized how intuitive children could be at times, you bent down to make yourself eye level with Eva.
“Listen, mamas, I’m just a phone call away okay? Anytime you’re scared I might be gone just ask your mom or dad to call me and I’ll answer every time, I promise.” Everyone knew making promises to children was a slippery slope, but you intended on keeping this promise with every ounce of your being, it was time for you to start taking some responsibility.
Eva nodded her head throwing her little arms around your neck and gracing you with a hug you weren’t aware you needed. You gave a small kiss to her temple before pulling away and setting the empty bowl on your coffee table.
“How about you lay down okay? Your dad and I might be awhile,” She nodded, moving and leaning against the pillow, her sudden weight revealing the champagne bottle you had hidden behind it, you quickly covered her with the throw blanket on your couch before picking up the bowl and bottle and making your way back to the kitchen.
You gently placed the bowl in the sink before making your way over to Richie whose head was still in his hands. His eyes found yours as he heard you take your seat, before skating across the unopened bottle you had set between the two of you.
“I’ve been sober for five months now,” watching Richie’s bloodshot eyes slowly blink at you as he drank your every word in felt like a knife being continuously shoved through your chest. “No drugs, no alcohol.” Your voice trailed off, this was the first time you had admitted your shortcomings by choice.
“Ho-How’d it happen?” Your eyes focused on Richie’s Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down, his face pinching together like asking that simple question was equivalent to swallowing glass.
“I uh don’t know the full story, just what the doctors told Nat and me,” you could see the hurt on his face that Nat was already privy to the information. “I didn’t tell her by choice, uh after my mom died my family kind of distanced themselves from me and so N-Nat became my power of attorney.”
He nodded his head, unfocused eyes floating around your kitchen, “Can you tell me?”
A tired sigh left you “Rich I don’t thi-,”
“I need to know Baby, please.” His hand shot out to grip yours, desperation you had never before seen seeping from his eyes.
You cleared your throat taking in a deep breath, “When I left Chicago, I just felt so…alone. It was like everywhere I looked there was either a reminder of Mikey or a reminder of…of what we lost.” Richie’s free hand returned to swipe across his mouth, eyes everywhere but you.
“The pills were prescription I…I can’t remember when I started taking them or when the dependency started but I-I know the alcohol started first. I deluded myself into thinking that I could do what Mikey couldn't…that I could numb the pain and function at the same time.
“It was like that for a while and then it just gradually got worse until I ended up hospitalized with no recollection of how I even got there and…and Natalie just crying and staring at me and the thing is I had heard those cries from her once before.” The same cries you listened to as she revealed Mikey’s fate to you.
“Um, the story is that I had been mixing drugs and alcohol which yeah I was. But that day I guess it finally went too far, for some reason I was trying to get to my patio and I guess I couldn’t figure out the door, I just…repeatedly threw myself into the glass until it shattered.” Your free hand moved unconsciously to pick at the scar lining the right side of your jaw, Richie’s hand quickly snatching it away urging you to continue your story.
“Wasn’t done yet though was I,” you looked at Richie expecting a chuckle out of him but the stoic look in his eyes told you he wasn’t in the mood for half-baked jokes. “I took two more pills and stumbled bloody through my apartment before making it out of my door and collapsing in a pool of my blood and vomit. A neighbor found me and called the ambulance.” You were glad you had no recollections of what would’ve been your final moments.
The silence in the kitchen was heavy, the words you had shared between the two of you more than anything Richie could have ever prepared himself for.
“Baby why…why didn’t you call me?” Richie’s hand covered his mouth in a fist as another cry escaped his lips wide teary eyes finally focused on yours.
“I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me.” Richie could feel his heart breaking as he listened to the crack in your voice as you spoke, you had been so scared to disappoint him that you had hidden a part of yourself for him for so long.
“How long have you been in Chicago? You avoided Richie’s gaze, not brave enough to see the look of hurt and betrayal.
“I spent a month in Wisconsin at a treatment facility, I’ve been in Chicago since December.”
“And Tiff knew about this?”
“Yeah…uh she kind of forced it out of Natalie, I guess Eva kept asking about me.” You watched as Richie’s head slowly nodded as he carefully let your words play in his head.
Richie leaned forward in his chair, elbows coming to rest on his knees as his clasped hands rested against his mouth.
“I’m not disappointed in you Baby,” Richie’s eyes rose to yours. “But I’m real fuckin hurt and the shit you just laid on me was a lot to take in but I…I want to understand and I want to be here for you.”
The tears that had subsided were now back pouring down your face in droves, “I’m so sorry Richie, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. But I promise you I’m trying to be better, I will be better. I don’t think I'll get another shot at this after this one.”
Richie stood from his chair pulling you up with him, immediately tugging you into his chest hugging you tightly under the ambient kitchen lighting. He knew his hugs would never match up to Mikey’s, that his role in your life would never compare to Mikey's. But he loved you so much and learning that you had fallen victim to the same poison as Mikey made him feel like an utter failure.
Richie tilted his head down planting a kiss on the crown of your head, the saltiness of his tears passing over his lips.
What purpose did he have if he couldn’t even keep his last promise to Mikey?
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Carmen’s day had come to an end hours ago but he just couldn’t get himself to fall asleep, all the words you had said to him playing over and over again in his head.
He had been so caught up in your argument that he blew his food-hopping plans off with Syd, and couldn’t even get himself to return any of the many missed phone calls he received from the number he knew to be Claire’s
Not that he even wanted to but he felt the girl deserved a proper explanation.
After leaving the restaurant and wandering the Chicago streets he found himself back where his life seemed to begin and end. Pouring what was left of him into helping the rest of the crew start the gut on the restaurant. He wasn’t proud that he let his emotions regarding your situation get the best of him, leading to an unnecessary and petty argument with Sydney. But he knew the two of them would work their issues out.
He couldn’t be sure that the same could be said for the two of you though.
The journal he had started a year ago sat open in his lap, the Polaroid he used to keep his place gently rested on his bedside table, the small lamp illuminated the two of you staring at each other eyes full of love as you wore matching smiles.
A teardrop landed on the ink-stained pages of his journal. The words he wanted to say to you easily poured out of him when he sat down to write to you. The journal began as a way for him to express what he felt for you, but as the months went on and the writing became a part of his routine they turned into letters to you he’d never have the guts to send.
His hand came up to swipe across his face before reaching for the pristine Polaroid and neatly tucking it between the designated pages. The journal was then safely placed in his bedside drawer. He knew he needed to give you space, he just wasn’t sure if there had ever been a future written in the stars for the two of you.
Picking up his phone he opened it to your newly saved contact, the need to hear your voice spilling more tears from his eyes. Your voice rang through his head as he thought about your words from earlier, Carmy couldn’t lie, he knew you loved him and had known for a while but hearing you say it aloud had finally awoken that part in him that would allow himself the pleasure of loving you back.
He couldn’t do it, couldn’t get himself to call you. A sob ripped through him as he locked his phone and set it down, the hope he had earlier to work things out with you was now gone, and he had no one left to blame but himself.
Carmy laid back in bed, eyes blankly staring at the ceiling, one arm bent at a right angle to support his head. He had really and truly ruined whatever relationship was left between you two.
Carmy’s hand dipped into the collar of his tank top, gripping the small pendant he found dangling from his chain after returning home from his shift the night you made your departure from his New York apartment.
His fingers had gotten used to tracing over the initial of your first name that he proudly wore around his neck. The closest thing he even had to you now.
Carmy’s eyes watered as he raised the initial pendant to his lips, a lingering kiss pressed into it, and a whispered “I love you,” filtered through the quiet of his room.
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tag list: @saturnheart @r0s3mm @wheredidmycrowngo @hawkins-2000 @elliesbabygirl @allbark-no-bite @anakinswh0re3005 @thecraziestcrayon @fruitcupsworld @nishinoyahhh @lilylovelyxo @ridingthehotmessexpress @noas-ark @jadeittic @hellokittyever @luvr-bunnyy @sxgees @kravitzwhore @chanluuvr @readingwiththereids @chims-kookies @ladygrey03 @ferida-kahlo @wanderlustnightwanderer @how2besalty @armydrcamers @jointherebellion215 @blkbxrbie-esther @ajordan2020 @head-slut-in-charge @magnet-girl @thebookwormlife @sevikasblackgf @writers-hes @senassn @bunnysthngs @gabbycoady13 @randomhoex @mattmurdocksstarlight @shinebright2000 @royalestrellas @jam1esl0v4 @globetrotter28 @dankfarrick29 @flowersgirl02 @beingalive1 @fairytale07 @smoooore @ghost-timelord @xxxstormyninixxx
so i’ve reached the limit of people i can mention in a single post, i apologize if you asked to be tagged and were left off it was not intentional. i’m gonna figure something out to try and fix this…sorry : (
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back2bluesidex · 7 months
Text
Where Do Broken Hearts Go (18+) - Masterpost
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Pairing: Model, ex-boyfriend!Jungkook X Child psychologist, Fem!Reader X Lawyer, Single Dad!Hoseok. 
Summary: Jungkook stripped your emotions naked, left you bare in the chilly wind of despair and self-doubt with an unending heartache. You tried your hardest to move on from him, to live for yourself but failed miserably. Each night you had to come back to your empty home where memories and broken dreams were scattered all around the floor, until one day a little angel and her unbelievably beautiful father came into your life. Finally, when you find yourself healing, maybe falling too, Jungkook had to show up! Again!
Theme: Angst, drama, eventual smut, fluff. 
Warnings: mentions of infidelity, mentions of cheating, broken relationship, reader is suffering so bad, pining, more will be added to each part. 
Word count: will be mentioned in each part. 476 for the prologue.
Listened to: Where Do Broken Hearts Go by One Direction
Taglist requests are closed!
Minors and karens are not allowed in this blog
A/N: First of all, Happy birthday to Jungkook. Secondly, I finally grew enough balls to start another legit series after a damn year. And obviously it had to be angst. Hope you guys like this attempt of mine.
Disclaimers: Pictures are taken from Pinterest.
Chapters:- 
Prologue || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 - Finale
Drabbles: Daydream, Incognito
Prologue under cut
“No. No. This is not true. This is not true.” Your murmur under your breath. Clenching your phone hard, you try to keep your breathing stable. 
“Calvin Kline Ambassador Jeon Jungkook is rumored to be dating actress Han Jiwon.” you read the headline again and then dive into the article. It explains how your boyfriend had been seen leaving his hotel with one of the most popular actresses of the industry. 
There is no mistake, it is Jungkook indeed. You would recognize his bunny features even in your deep sleep, no matter how many hats and masks he uses to conceal his identity. In the picture, he is tightly grasping the hands of the actress as both of them are caught by the camera. 
The picture was probably taken last month during Jungkook’s overseas schedule. He didn’t mention having a “friend” over there. He never mentioned anything about meeting Jiwon there. But again, he hardly ever mentions anything anymore. 
You put your phone upside down. Inhaling a deep breath, you shut your eyes. 
Your body feels heavy, your heart twists in a fear of uncovering a truth that will leave you broken, will leave you stranded on a lonely island all by yourself. 
You knew he was changing, you knew he was drifting apart, you know he doesn’t look at you with the same glint in his eyes. You know it all and yet you kept your fingers crossed. 
A tear rolls down your cheek and you gulp the lump that formed in your throat overtime. 
The door lock chimes in signaling someone has just punched the key-code. You know who it is but you stay in your place, eyes closed. 
Soft thud of foot-steps echo in your otherwise silent apartment. You still don’t budge. 
He slowly walks closer to your body, stands right beside you, and places a hand on your shoulder. 
“It is not what you think it is, Y/N” Jungkook speaks with a barely audible voice. 
“I know.” you reply while standing up from your seat. 
“I didn’t cheat.” he explains again. 
You come face to face with him. His face bears no sign of discomfort, pain or guilt. It’s just… blank. His eyes are so blank that you think he is actually sorry for not cheating on you. 
“I know.” you offer again. Walking forward towards your boyfriend, you wrap him in your embrace but… he doesn’t hug you back immediately. 
When he places his hands flat on your back, not totally wrapping you up the way he used to, you know it. You know it’s gone. 
The familiarity of his warmth, his scent, the feeling of being home, is gone. Even if your body is touching his, you know he is actually miles and miles away from you. And you have doubts if he is ever going to return or not.
--
Taglist:-
@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @soraviie @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel
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I loved your peter vs Alastor story, can we possibly get a part two? Like maybe Peter is looking for her and she hears about it through the news or something from missing persons reports. She’s changed her name and Alastor has told her there’s nothing to worry about, but keeps having dreams about Peter finding her? You can choose how it ends!
A/N: I didn’t think people would want a part two to that but since you asked you shall receive! I love writing about Yanderes going against each other it’s so much fun 🤗. I watched the first four episodes of Hazbin Hotel and guys i LOVE IT SO MUCH. I’m so glad I waited for this show, and I’m so glad other people are enjoying it as much as I am. Special thanks to @a-bookworms-teashop or also known as @forbidden-sunlight, for helping me with this short story! As per usual we all know I like cliffhangers so expect a part three soon <<33 happy reading & enjoy!
Warnings: violence, obsessive tendencies, mentions of blood, lots of manipulation, talks of mental abuse, lots of dark content ahead!!
Songs you can listen too while reading: Close to you by Rihanna. Slipping through my fingers by ABBA. Desire by Megan Myers. Love on the Brain by Rihanna. Forget her by Jeff Buckley. Meet me in the hallway by Harry Styles. The Grudge by Olivia Rodrigo.
Part 1
Navigation!! // Masterlist!!
Forget her
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Living in New Orleans was nice. People were always so kind, and everyone was so welcoming. Getting a new name was easy, surprisingly. The government didn’t make it hard to run away from psycho ex boyfriends who didn’t know how to take a hint. Living with Alastor was nice. He was always a gentlemen, a gentle man, a good lover too. He made sure to never treat you the way Peter did.
In fact he was quite the opposite with you. Inviting you out to parties with him, keeping you out of the public eye as to not bring the wrong type of attention around. Everything felt like it was starting to get better. He would bring you flowers, take you to work with him even, or work from home. Alastor was nothing short of the perfect boyfriend. In fact he was perfect and more.
But lately, something seemed to have you on edge. He had been fidgety. Checking his phone constantly but always reassuring you with the polite smile. A reassuring one he tried to keep on, but you saw right through. He was hiding something and you wanted to know what.
According to Husk, Peter had since moved out of the apartment he had been living in, with no notice too. He had gone completely ghost. There was no sign of him anywhere, according to your knowledge. It was a Saturday evening when it had all happened. When your intuition had finally proved to be right.
“You said I wouldn’t be seen.” You said, the article about an appearance the two of you had made up on your phone. Alastor was walking through the kitchen, tossing various ingredients into a large pot, his jambalaya coming along nicely.
“ Dear please, there hasn’t been any sign of you for months. I doubt the bastard has even seen it, let alone have any access to technology.” He brushed you off with a chuckle, sliding the ingredients off the cutting board and into the pot. You sighed and put your phone down on the counter. Maybe you were being over paranoid. But ever since reading the article, a chill had ran up your spine that didn’t seem to be leaving any time soon. Alastor noticed you looking off to the side, lost in your own mind. He reaches out, hands brushing your sides gently. “Why don’t you take a bath, hm? Ill even set it up for you. What do you say dear?” He asks calmly, a hand on your lower back, ushering you out of the kitchen and past the open living room, making your way down the hall to the bathroom.
“ Alright fine. But we need to talk about this later.” You say, and he responds to you with a kiss on your cheek. You go to your shared bedroom, going through the large walk in closet to find a change of clothes for after your bath. The water is running in the bathroom, the smell of fragrances light on your senses. You make your way back to the bathroom to see Alastor leaning over the tub slightly, candles already lit on the sides of the tub to allow you to relax. There’s your favorite book next to a cup of wine, along with the radio playing light jazz. Everything is perfect, as it should be, and for a moment you can forget the feeling of strained eyes on you. You can forget it all as you’re embraced by a man who loves you. Who truly cares.
“ Take your time darling. I must run out for a bit to get some extra ingredients. Will you be fine without me?” He asks, taking the robe from you as you sink down into the tub, eyeing you carefully, enough to give you butterflies. You smile, one of his favorites and nod, reaching to the side to pick up your glass of wine, the red stains your lips slightly as you pull the cup away.
“I think Ill be okay, thank you love. Be quick please, I might just nap here.” You say jokingly. Alastor smiles, folding your robe up neatly in his hands before nodding to you lightly. He leans down to kiss you, a soft tender kiss, before leaving you in the bathroom alone. It’s when you hear the front door shut that you sigh, now knowing he’s gone. The water is just right, just warm enough on your skin for you to rest your eyes a bit.
A bit turns into an hour, and when you hear a loud glass shatter from the kitchen is when you wake up from your nap. You hadn’t been serious about sleeping in the tub, but mistakes happen. You quickly pull at the drain, the water slowly slipping down as you grab your towel and get yourself dressed, sliding a simple nightgown on before stepping out of the bathroom. “Alastor?” You call, but you’re met with silence. Your vision is hazy, the steam from the water seeming to create some sort of film over your sight, but you manage. Walking down the hall and into the living area, you see a vase shattered on the ground. What you don’t expect to see, is a distraught Peter standing across from you.
“Guess again Baby.” He says with a smile. He sighs and takes in your appearance, eyes completely devouring your appearance. “What are you doing here?” You ask, panic written all over your face.
“How did you find me?” You ask again. Peter tuts at you, standing straight up, revealing just how tall he really was in comparison to you. He has a folder in his hand, one he throws on the floor in between the two of you, and it just barely touches your feet as it slides across the floor. “What is this?” You ask, eyeing him closely. He grins, hands behind his back as he watches you pick up the folder.
“Your perfect boyfriend.” He responds. The pictures inside reveal themselves before you can even process whats going on. Pictures of Alastor and you about in the city. Ones of the two of you at home, the two of you at dinner. Intimate moments, things that were supposed to be private. All laid out right in front of you. A picture of Alastor and you at a friends wedding. His face was burned out of the photo, but you knew who it was. The more photos you looked through the more you found. Magazine clippings of Alastor with you in the town. Paparazzi seeing you both together at parties, dancing around each other like no one was watching but the worlds eyes were on you. Peters eyes were on you.
“He told me-“
“Told you what?” Peter snickered, stepping closer, the broken glass crunching under his feet. You kept going through photos, one right after the other. Then, one really caught your attention. Mimzy. She had been so obsessed with Alastor and how you were no good for him. Now, in front of you was a photo, the two of them with their arms around each other, almost like lovers, but not quite friends. How long ago was this? Why didnt he tell you about this?
“He doesn’t love you. Not the way I do.” Peter said, stepping closer, arms raising for a hug. “ Let’s just go home. We can put this all behind us. I can forgive you.” He said, a smile on his face. He was still the same. He thought he had done no wrong. He lowers his arms when he sees you don’t come closer, but instead reaches for your hands, pulling them to his chest. “What do you need? Money? I can give you that. If- if you want more freedom we can go out! We can do whatever you want-“ He pleaded, eyes begging for yours to look at him. “Please, just come back. He took you away from where you were safe. Now you have everyone judging you, when you don’t need that.” He said, hand cupping your chin to force you to look at him. “Are you really happy here?” He asks.
It feels like time freezes for a moment. Were you really happy? All the press, Alastor always being gone or out at parties. The social events. The liquor, the drugs. The dancers and the crowds of people together. With Alastor, it was always a party. But with Peter, things were different.
With Peter, you were quiet. Alone but without the drugs, the partying and the social interaction. With Peter you really never lifted a finger, not like you physically could. Peter always brought gifts home, even if he was upset with you. He always did laundry, had things neat and tidy, or as much as they could in the small apartment. With Peter, you were taken care of. With Peter, you lived a calm life.
Well, at least that was how he saw it.
With Peter, there was a constant fear surrounding you. Suffocating you. He never let you live, took away your freedom and your life to keep you tied down to him. He had hurt you on multiple occasions, raising a hand to the person he swore to love so dearly. He had threatened to kill your family, your friends, anyone who stood in between the two of you. Peter didn’t love you, no, he was obsessed. Did you really want that life back?
“I.. I am happy here.” You finally said, pulling yourself away from Peter. His eyes looked defeated. He looked, complex. In a matter of seconds his demeanor changed entirely, standing tall in his anger, his pride.
“Happy? Happy with a man who took you from me?!” He yelled, lunging forward and caging you between him and the wall. His eyes looked manic, like something had snapped. It was only then you noticed him reaching into his pocket, glass shard in hand. “I told you what would happen if you ever left.” He said, hand in the air as the shard came down quickly. A slice to your cheek had you sliding down the wall, tears streaming down your face as blood ran down your neck, fingers shakily holding onto yourself for some support.
“Peter please-“ you pleaded with a whisper. Even after all these months away from him he still managed to make you feel so small.
“I see what’s going on.” He said, chuckling a bit. He crouches down, eye level with you now. “He has you completely brainwashed doesn’t he. I’m sure he-“ He stops when he hears the front lock being turned. The door opens to reveal a humming Alastor, eyes shut as he hums a song to himself softly. He turns to lock the door, before turning back around, finally opening his eyes to see the sight of Peter and you on the ground.
Everyone is quiet for a moment. Peter looks panicked, Alastor looks, unreadable, and you look, frightened. Alastor drops the bag of groceries, and before you can process what’s happening there’s a knife being drawn from under his shirt sleeve. Not a large one, but a size big enough to kill a man. To kill Peter. Peter stands quickly, clutching the glass shard in his hand so tight he begins to cut himself. The two meet in the middle, Peter swinging to try to slice Alastors neck. Something about the way Peter misses, the way Alastor inhales sharply. His eyes widen but in a different way. One you’d never seen from him before. There’s a difference in the way his eyes gloss over, the shine in them just a bit brighter than before.
Nothing would ever be the same after tonight.
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bet-on-me-13 · 11 months
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So, you know how there are a bunch of Fics where one of the Robins comes back as a ghost when they die? Most of the time it’s Jason, sometimes Tim, and Dick and Damian once in a blue moon
But has there ever been a Ghost Cass AU?
Cass dies while on Patrol, maybe is was a villainous plot, maybe it was a random goon getting a lucky shot, maybe she was killed by somebody she trusted...maybe...
Whatever way she died, Cass ends up as a Ghost.
I can see 2 different paths this could take, depending on where she reforms:
PATH 1: Cass Reforms where she died
Cass is reformed where she died, probably very soon afterwards or a few hours later. The Batfamily have not had time to get over their Grief, they only just retrieved her Body an hour ago and need to go back to the crime scene to investigate.
And once they get there, they see what looks like Cass’s Orphan costume but colored differently, just sitting there in a daze. She just became a ghost, only a few hours after her death due to her exposure to the Lazarus Pits, and it was Jarring. Not to mention the Pure Ectoplasm she is made of is reacting weirdly to the corrupted Ectoplasm that is in Jason, making her anxious.
Meanwhile [Insert Batfam member] and Jason are confused, scared, and paranoid. [Batfam member] remembers reading a few articles in passing while researching Lazarus Pits. They were about the Ectoplasmic Entities made from Lazarus Water called Ghosts, how they are imprints of a human consciousness after an emotional death. They are also completely malevolent and non-sentient.
[Batfam Member] doesn’t hope to believe that this is Cass, all the research says that this is a pile of goop pretending to be her. Of course this makes them mad, not only is this thing wearing their sisters face, it will also probably hurt people when it gets strong enough using said face. It feels like an insult. And Cass can’t even defend herself to them, since she lost whatever was left of her ability to speak when she became a Ghost, and she is too dazed and weak to do Sign Language.
[Batfam Member] explains what they know about Ghosts to Jason, how this isn’t Cass at all, just an imprint of her memories. They say this right in front of her, which scares her since they don’t seem to consider her a person anymore, just a thing using Cass’s face
Back when they first read up on Ectoplasmic Entities, he made sure to get a small Ecto-Infused Knife for everyone in the Family in case they ever encountered one.
They bring it out, but before they can do anything, the Ghost of Cass recognizes it and runs away. 
Jason is mad that [Batfam Member] instantly went for the knife, or didn’t think to look for any second opinions.
Cass runs to the Batcave, but she gets there as [Batfam Member] is explaining what Ghosts are on the big screen to everybody else. She also sees her own body, laying on a table in the center of the room. She starts to believe that [Batfam Member] is right, that she can’t be the real Cass, just a reflection. And she can’t stay here, the others are bound the believe [Batfam Member] over her now
She runs away, not even revealing herself to her family.
She runs and runs and runs for hours upon hours, non stop, across state lines, until she reaches a place where her instincts were telling her to go. It feels like the air is clear, like she has more energy. She has made it to Amity Park.
From there you can go in any direction you want.
PATH 2: Cass Reforms in the Zone
Cass reforms in a random place in the Zone, in a color swapped version of her Orphan costume. She wakes up to see a sky of green and ground of purple, completely alone, no one around her.
She wanders for a bit, but a run-in with a Monster forces her to run. As it chases her, she finds that she can fly, but so can it.
As she is running, a blast comes from above her and blasts the monster away. She looks up to see a guy with Green-Blue Skin, pointy ears, and white hair, in a Black Hazmat Suit, floating above her.
He introduces himself as Phantom, and explains that she must be a Ghost. She can’t respond because she lost the last of her ability to speak, but thankfully he knows Sign Language
She can’t remember how she died, but she remembers most of the rest of her life. She takes off her mask, and you can see that she looks like normal Cass with Green Skin, white Hair, and the pointy ears. Also small fangs cause I think those are cool.
Danny helps her around, teaches her about the Zone, introduces his living friends, all that. She even meets a cute clone named Ellie, but that’s besides the point. Eventually, after a few weeks of traveling the Zone and learning about her new abilities, she asks if she can go see her family. Danny agrees, but says that first he should teach her how to shapeshift so she can look human enough to go to the living world.
Which is how Danny and Cass learn that Cass is a Halfa (due to her exposure to the Lazarus Pits). While she is thinking of her human form, a ring of gold energy surrounds her and she suddenly has a heartbeat again. She’s also extremely hungry cause Ghosts don’t need to eat, but Halfa’s do (even if it is significantly less)
By the time she goes to see her Family, they are not as high strung or paranoid as they would have been directly after her death, so they are more willing to listen to reason. Also with Danny there (and maybe ellie), he can explain what she can’t.
But now they don’t know what to do, they still haven't figured out who killed Cass, all they know is that she was definitely killed, it wasn’t an accident.
What comes Next? I also don’t know, I need suggestions!
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szallejhscorner · 1 year
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i just had a thought and needed to share it with you LMAO but chishiya is definitely the type of person to use the whole ‘three taps means i love you’ code cuz he rarely ever says it out loud. so like anytime he passes by you he’ll tap your arm three times and sometimes he even finds himself doing it unconsciously in his sleep :((
Thank you for sharing this with me, my friend ♥
How could I NOT write this for you?
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Tap, tap, tap.
Three taps on your upper arm as he passed you, his eyes not even looking up from the article he was reading. Only Chishiya’s smirk hinted at the fact that those taps were intentional, and you moved your fingers to the still tingling skin of your arm.
He always did that. Tapping your arm when walking past you, tapping your fingers when you held his hand, even your head when you snuggled into his side while watching a movie together. You had barely noticed at first, but the more often Chishiya did it, the more you questioned what it actually meant.
You had tried to figure out if it occurred after you said or did something special. Maybe it was to tell you that you were stupid (in Chishiya’s own mocking but loving way of course), or that you should move aside? It didn’t make sense.
One time you had questioned him, and the only answer had been a knowing chuckle. Of course, the cunning blonde wouldn’t give you the answer that easily, since he loved to be the clever one. You had even tried to tap him back, but that only led to an even bigger smirk on his face.
Rolling your eyes, you followed Chishiya into the living room, where he dropped back into the couch and barely made place for you when you did the same. You snuggled into his touch, leaving him enough space so he could continue reading that article about surgical stuff, and looked up to his face. Strands of blonde hair tickled your skin, the scent of strawberry shampoo just a hint in the air as you breathed in.
You searched for his hand and didn’t let go until your fingers intertwined with his, and there it was again. Three taps of his thumb against the side of your hand.
“What does it mean?” you asked again, twirling a strand of blonde hair between your fingers.
Chishiya tilted his head towards you just so slightly, a sign that he enjoyed what you were doing. “Hmm?”
You snorted. “Come on, don’t fool me. The taps! You know what I’m talking about. What does it mean?”
“If you can’t figure it out yourself, there’s no need to explain it anyway.”
That asshole. He knew exactly how much you wanted that answer, and he enjoyed it even more to play with you. This was definitely not the reason you loved him. You punched his side, hard enough so he had to flinch, before you snuggled back into it. “I hate you, ‘Chiya.”
“No, you don’t.” He bluntly stated with a smirk. Of course you didn’t.
Later that night, when the movie was long finished and you both had gone to bed, you still lay wide awake and stared at the ceiling. In the darkness of night, only a few shadows were visible, cast by the moon and the trees outside your window. Three taps. And there was a meaning behind it. Just why couldn’t you figure it out?
Chishiya huffed in his sleep and turned around so he was facing you. His mouth was slightly parted and his hair was tousled all around his beautiful features. You couldn’t resist touching his cheek, and his lips curled into a smile for a second. When you pulled back your arm to give Chishiya the space he needed, his fingers brushed your skin and you felt the soft tap, tap, tap once more.
He even did that while sleeping! But what-
You scanned his features, listened to the sound of his breath, and despite the riddle he wouldn’t solve for you, your heart was almost bursting with love for this man. You loved so many things about him – his voice, his cleverness, the way he was a man of few words who preferred to use tiny gestures.
And then it struck you.
Of course! How couldn’t you have seen it before?
Everything that Chishiya did had a meaning, even the slightest touch was considered.
Tap, tap, tap.
Three taps… three words.
I love you.
You smiled, breathing a kiss onto Chishiya’s lips. “I love you, too.”
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its-time-to-write · 8 months
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jamie and reader used to date before he went back to his old team and broke reader’s heart 💔 now he’s back and wants reader back ANGST AND FLUFF PLEASEEE
I’ve been thinking about this request since FOREVER so I hope I did it justice!!
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wonder what it’d be like
You don’t get paid enough for this shit.
“So you do know Jamie Tartt?” asks some journalist doing some piece on some footballer crap. You don’t know and you don’t care.
“If you’re not going to order anything, I’m going to get my boss and have you removed from the premises,” you reply, undeterred in your mission to wipe down empty tables. Brian loves his coffee shop and is fiercely protective of both his employees and his peaceful atmosphere. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s kicked someone out.
“Well, do you have any comment on the fact that he said you were the love of his life?”
You don’t miss a beat. “No I do not. Can I get you any coffee or should I get Brian?”
The journalist declines both, and is out the door.
Fucking Jamie Tartt. What does he even think he’s doing? How did you even come up in an interview? Was the question, who, Jamie Tartt, is the greatest love of your life?
(You’d find out later that yes, that was the question. The journalist was looking for an answer like “Keeley Jones,” or “Kiera Knightley,” something a little spicy.)
It doesn’t matter, the journalist (you think his name was Trent) is gone and you can go back to making coffee and chatting with the regulars.
You should have known that wasn’t the end of it.
God, why can’t you just work in peace? You have enough on your plate, between homework and student loans and the person who’s complaining that their iced coffee is “too cold.” 
You don’t need to add “prick footballer ex-boyfriend,” to the list.
But he seems bound and determined to add himself to your list of things to take care of, with the way he’s following you around as you hand people their orders.
“Trent said you wouldn’t talk to him,” he says.
He takes your silence as license to keep going. “Why didn’t you just take the money? Can’t be making much here.”
Do not let him get to you, you remind yourself. Do not sink to his level.
So you just shrug. “I’m not one of those people who fucks a famous footballer just for the money. Now I’m going to give you the same choice I gave that goddamn reporter: you can get a coffee or you can get. Out.”
So Jamie leaves.
It figures that your ex would find some way to make your life hell. Sure, you’ve gotten mostly over him and you have your own life and you’re on your way to becoming an accountant because numbers are fun and numbers don’t break your heart. So of course, now is when he decides to show up and have journalists poking around.
But you refuse to talk about him with anyone. It’s rude, in your opinion. It devalues your old relationship and yourself and you won’t do it.
So instead you stay after hours, going over finances at the café while Brian and his boyfriend chatter softly and try new coffee combinations.
You laugh as they bicker and and sip everything they set before you, grateful that you don’t have to think about the day Jamie got signed to Manchester City and decided that he was too good for you.
Unfortunately, you have to go home at some point, which means you’re wide awake in your bed, flatmates all asleep leaving you to replay that whole terrible day.
(He said, “It ain’t gonna work, babe, I’m in the Premier League now and I should be with someone who’s at my same level.”
You said, “Don’t call me babe.”
He said, “Don’t waste any tears over me, I won’t be crying so you shouldn’t either.”
You said, “I sure as hell won’t cry over a heartless dick like you.”
He said, “That’s a heartless Premier League dick to you.”
And that was it. A year-long relationship and four year-long friendship down the tubes.)
The article hits the papers and now you’re constantly being harassed by journalists. 
You read it, the part about you. It was written in interview format, with a bolded question and then Jamie’s response. It was like a glimpse into his personal life, who he was outside the pitch.
Jamie, you’ve had an astonishing career at such a young age, and made a name for yourself both on and off the pitch. Your name has been in the tabloids with many famous models and actresses in the few short years you’ve played in the Premier League. So my question is, in the history of your romantic entanglements, who is the absolute love of your life?
In your opinion, it was a long lead-up to a short question. 
Jamie’s response was two words. Your first and last name.
That fucker.
It makes work so bad that you had to hide in the back while Brian tells people to leave.
You apologize profusely once everything’s closed and everyone’s gone. 
“I’ll give you my official notice and everything, and I can still help out with finances if you want,” you say. “I’m- not trying to be annoying, but the extra money would be really helpful while I look for another job.”
Brian shakes his head. “I’m not firing you, kid,” he says. “It’ll die down. And Caleb and I are happy to have you over for dinner if you want to talk about it.”
You’re so relieved and grateful that you hug him.
It’s late again. You’re in your kitchen. All three of your flatmates are out and will be gone until the morning, so you have the flat all to yourself. You’ve lit some candles and turned on the soft lights, and are criss-cross on the counter listening to Fleetwood Mac with brownies in the oven.
You allow yourself to think about some of the questions that were thrown at you throughout the day.
How long have you known Jamie Tartt?
When was the last time you spoke?
Are you still friends?
You shake your head. Weird.
There’s a knock at the door. Even weirder. You’re not expecting anyone.
You hop down and pad down the hall, standing on tiptoe to peer through the peephole. It’s Jamie. You make a face, double-check that the door is locked, and turn back to the kitchen. 
“I know you’re there,” Jamie calls through the door. “I can see the light on, and your car’s out front. I just want to talk.”
You’re not going to open the door, but then he calls your name and you’re rooted to the floor.
You open the door just enough so you can look at him, but not enough that he thinks he can come inside.
“I can’t imagine what you’d have to say to me other than an apology, especially after the day I’ve had,” you say, more fire in your voice than you remembered you had.
The fire dies when you get a good look at Jamie’s face.
It’s different.
He looks… forlorn, almost?
“I do, I do have an apology,” he says. There’s no malice, no conniving look on his face. 
You say, “Ok,” in a tone so soft that Jamie could almost forget the anger you just held.
“Look,” he begins, but is cut off by your timer beeping in the kitchen. You sigh. 
“I have to get those,” you say. “Can’t burn down the flat. Do you… do you want to come in? Just for a minute.”
Jamie nods and follows you inside, closing the door behind him.
He follows you to the kitchen, close on your heels, where you motion for him to sit while you take out the brownies. 
“Right,” he says once you’re leaning on the counter across from him. “Look- I was a prick. I thought I was fucking special because my right foot was kissed by god. I didn’t know how to fucking handle it so I acted like a prick. And I never said I’m sorry.” He takes a breath. “Keeley’s always talkin’ about accountability, so… here I am. Taking fucking accountability.”
You just look at him.
“I’m not looking for forgiveness,” he hurriedly continues. “Just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry for hurting you.”
You’re still not talking, so Jamie gets up.
“Right,” he says. “Right. I’m going to leave ya now. Got fucking trainin tomorrow.”
He’s halfway down the hall when he turns and says, “Oh, by the way, I called your uni. Paid the rest of your tuition, gave them some extra in case you decide you want to keep going.” Then he turns around again and actually heads to the door.
For a moment, you’re too shocked to even move but the magnitude of what he just said sinks in.
“OI,” you bellow. Jamie freezes, hand on the door handle. 
“Get. Back here,” you say, voice tight.
“Jamie,” you say once he’s sitting again, “you can’t just pay my student loans. The whole reason I never talk to the press about you is because I don’t want to be like those people who just, like, use you for your money. I had it handled and I don’t need you thinking that I’m just- just- using you. And fuck off with saying that shit in a magazine,” you continue, “You can’t just use me to make yourself more family-friendly. Saying that you like the girl who works in a fucking coffee shop so she can get through school and become an accountant. I mean, what the fuck? Just say it was a model or an actress or something, but don’t use me, because I never used you.”
Jamie shakes his head. “But it’s not like that,” he says earnestly. “I know what you’re like. I know it ain’t about the money. That’s why I said what I said. You really are the love of me life.”
You’re silent, analyzing his face. There’s nothing that indicates he’s lying, and if you can claim to know Jamie at all, you’d have to admit that this might be the most sincere you’ve ever seen him.
All you can manage is a weak, “Oh.”
“I’m really, really sorry.”
“Yeah,” you reply, “you keep saying that. I forgive you. But that doesn’t mean that I want to be friends with you.”
Jamie nods. “Yeah, no I get that, yeah. Right. I’m not looking for that. I just needed you to know.”
You’re both silent for an awkward moment.
“Right,” Jamie says again. “Guess I’d better go. I’ll see you around, I guess.”
You nod, letting Jamie see himself out.
“So, you’re not taking him back?”
“Brian,” you say, “why the absolute fuck would I do that?”
He laughs. “I don’t know, if I had some handsome, rich young footballer come to me with an apology that I didn’t ask for, I’d’ve snapped him right up!”
“Don’t let Caleb hear you say that,” you warn.
Brian laughs again. “Oh hon, he’s heard me say so much worse.”
You snort then turn back to the column of numbers in front of you. It’s bright and early, thirty minutes before opening. That gives you twenty minutes to finish what you’re doing before sneaking out the back door. You’re scribbling in the margins in blue glitter pen when there’s a knock on the glass door. You frown.
“Who on earth is knocking?” you ask.
Brian shrugs. “No idea,” he replies as he goes to look.
The frown stays affixed to your face. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that Brian just lied.
He’s back a moment later.
“Think these are for you,” he says, arm full of flowers.
You drop your pen.
“What the hell,” you whisper. 
Brian just grins and places them on the table. “A nice young man in a pink tracksuit dropped them off. Said to give them to you and that he’ll have more tomorrow.”
“Fucker,” you hiss.
“Me or him?”
You glare. “Both. Either. I don’t care. Take these home to Caleb or put them around the shop. I’m leaving.”
You shuffle your papers together and flee the coffee shop, door banging behind you.
“Twat,” you whisper to no one in particular. 
Jamie’s delivered flowers every day for a week and a half and you’re not sure how he manages it, but he always avoids being caught by you. You’re not sure why he’s delivering them to your place of work, but you have a hunch that somehow, somehow Brian and Caleb are in on it.
It’s fucking annoying, really. They’re so beautiful and in all your favorite colors and you’re absolutely pissed off that he still knows anything personal about you.
You’re even more pissed off that you like it.
I mean, come on, he has your forgiveness; what more does he want?
The worst part is you actually miss him. You miss the Jamie you dated, the one you fell in love with but are not particularly fond of the Jamie who dumped you when he got signed for Man City. What’s to stop him from doing that again?
You decide you’re going to talk to him.
Brian brings in a particularly large bunch the next day and you’re on your feet in a flash. You’re out the door before he can ask where you’re going, but he doesn’t need to. He already knows. 
You look up and down the street. You know Jamie couldn’t have gotten far. 
You catch a flash of blonde hair zipping away to your right. 
“TARTT,” you bellow.
The blonde hair freezes as you march up the street.
Jamie turns and grins sheepishly, “Hey, love,” he says.
“Stop bringing me flowers. It’s fucking annoying.”
It might be Jamie’s imagination, but there seems to be slightly less rage in your eyes today.
“Thought you liked that sort of thing,” he says.
“I do,” you say, “usually. When I know why it’s happening. I don’t know why you’re doing it. You already paid my student loans and apologized. I don’t really know what else you want from me.”
“A second chance,” Jamie says promptly. “I weren’t kidding in the article. You can tell me to fuck off right now and I’ll leave you alone. Can’t promise that I’ll never hurt you again, but I can fucking guarantee it won’t be on purpose.”
You’re silent, giving Jamie the tiniest spark of hope.
“Fuck you,” you finally say. Jamie raises an eyebrow as you glare at him. “Fuck you for actually fucking changing. And for making me love you again. You’re all I can fucking think about and it’s been driving me crazy, and Brian’s been no help with all his, ‘you should call him,’ and ‘he seems like a good lad.’ He’s fucking right and I’m fucking mad about it.”
“Yeah?” Jamie asks, “Why don’t you tell me more over dinner tonight? I’ll take you on a proper date.”
You actually smile at him for the first time in ages. “Alright,” you reply, “one date. One. We’ll see where it goes from there.”
Jamie doesn’t care. You’re smiling, which means he’s already won the whole fucking thing. He’s yours again, and he’s not going to fuck it up.
531 notes · View notes
hannie-dul-set · 3 months
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STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE [1].
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SYNOPSIS. the saying “never meet your idols” exists for a reason. you just didn’t expect the reason to be because said idols would end up declaring that you’re their alleged lover from a past life (past lives, rather). now you have three big celebrities vying for your attention, and it’s not as dreamlike as you imagined it to be.
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PAIRINGS. choi yeonjun, choi soobin, choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRES. reincarnation! au, celebrity! au (soloist! yeonjun, actor! soobin, rock band member! beomgyu), slight college! au, slight historical! au, rom-com, angst if you squint, reverse harem woohoo. WARNINGS. swearing, secondhand stress HHAHAHAH. WORD COUNT. 2.9k.
TAGLIST. @seokgyuu @spjhyn @bat-shark-repellant @writingmeraki @lotties-readings @jenodreamer @gyuspeach @lexawoah13 @dvalitaes @agustdiv1ne @enhacatalog @soobs-things @tocupid @wonsays @kgneptun @sarang-ae @peaceout97 @outrologist @prettypei @luv4cheol @captivq @kueey @matcha-binz @loveherrschxr @haechology @bitehee @laylasbunbunny
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NOTE. and so it begins!! grabbed seventeen’s “second life” and gave it to beomgyu’s band, by the way. future chapters will be a lot longer bcs this one is sort of just an introduction. please lmk what u think so far!!
MASTERLIST | NEXT >
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CHAPTER 1 — the consequences of working with a choi.
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One.
“I told you I won’t do any romance dramas!”
Choi Soobin isn’t usually one to throw tantrums. He’s gentleness itself, says the media. The loveliest, most humble and soft-spoken angel to have ever graced South Korea’s entertainment industry. Interviewees praise him for being so kind and warm. Award-winning actor Lee Minyuk decided to adopt him the day they first met while working on a drama just a year ago.
He’s so nice, so sweet, so lovely— a stark contrast to the roles he usually plays, but that doesn’t take away from the songs of praise that articles and Twitter posts usually string along with Choi Soobin’s name.
All of this is true of course. As long as you’re not contractually obligated to babysit his whiny, picky, six foot tall ass every single day.
“Soobin, why don’t you give it another—”
“This is ridiculous,” he huffs, crossed armed on the sofa with a tattered script sitting on the low coffee table before him. Manager Lee feels a headache kicking in. Why is this bastard acting up when the interns are in the office? Those two simply wanted to deliver the scripts for Soobin to pick from, but they are looking at his actor’s surprising behavior with wide eyes. Now, it’s going to be his job to make sure that they don’t run their mouths about the nation’s alleged first love actually being a spoiled brat.
“Soobin,” Manager Lee exhales for the nth time. This script is from Writer Kang. The Writer Kang! She wrote this script with you in mind as the lead. Can you at least maybe reconsider—”
“I’m not doing it.” Soobin won’t budge. He’s got a visibly troubled and offended look on his face and his manager wants to smack him upside in the head. How could he not understand that this is an opportunity of a lifetime? “Hyung, you know the reason why I even signed to this company in the first place. I’m not doing it. Absolutely not.”
He picks up the script like it’s a dirty rag— disgusted expression to match— only to reveal a page that suddenly prompts him to throw the entire thing across the room. The two interns flinch. Manager Lee feels his hair turning gray by the second.
“There’s a kissing sce— agh! Gosh! What will my soulmate think if she sees me kissing another woman?!”
“Soul...soulmate?” unfortunate intern number one voices out hesitantly.
“Is...Choi Soobin seeing someone right now?” asks number two, and Manager Lee wants to retire early. His actor is still ranting on and on about how there’s no way in hell he’s taking on this role. He doesn’t really wanna deal with that right now.
“No. He’s not seeing anybody. He’s never been in a relationship before.”
Manager Lee knows this because he’s been Soobin’s manager since the young star was still seventeen, when he was still as nice and well-behaved as the tabloids made him out to be. That same kid is now a grown adult and shuddering over a possible kissing scene in a screenplay. “Ahh. I can’t do this, I seriously can’t do this, hyung!” Fame does change people. Manager Lee wants seventeen year-old Soobin back.
“Then...then who is his soulmate…?”
It’s hard to imagine that an A-List star like Choi Soobin is suffering from unrequited love. “A woman from his past life,” answers Manager Lee. “Or so he says.” The interns look at him. Come—come again? their expressions seem to say. Manager Lee lets out an exasperated sigh. This one’s even harder to comprehend.
“Hyung,” Soobin finally calls out for him. Lee returns his attention to his artist, who’s now flipping through the other scripts on the table with an even more disgruntled expression. “Hyung, are these all the offers I have? They’re all romance! Don’t we have other options?!”
“The CEO wants you to expand your roles, Soobin,” Manager Lee flatly replies. “Your fans too. You can’t keep doing action-mystery-thrillers forever. It’s a waste of your visuals. They want to see you in lighter things too.” He walks over to pick up the first rejected script from the floor, dropping it in front of Soobin, who is currently a deflated balloon.
He’s changed. But sometimes it feels as though his artist hasn’t grown up ever since they first met.
“If you take Writer Kang’s drama, you’ll get even bigger, Soobin.”
“I’m not interested in fame,” Soobin mumbles, shoulders slacked and dejected. “I just want—”
“If you gain ever more fame, expand your reach, won’t that mean your soulmate can find you sooner as well?” Soobin takes the bait. He flinches upon hearing the word he’s been chasing after ever since, a glimpse of consideration flashing through his expression as he nips down his bottom lip. Manager Kim lands a hand on his shoulder. “Think about it, kid. You shouldn’t waste opportunities like this.”
Soobin lets out a breath. “I’ll...I’ll give it some thought.”
Dear god, finally. Manager Lee ushers out a sulky and troubled Soobin out into the hall with the script hugged against his chest and tells him to relax for the day. “Don’t overthink it. Just do what you want to do,” he says, after gaslighting him into positively considering the role. Still, Soobin needs this. He’s been stagnating since his last project, Study Group. He needs to switch up genres if he wants to improve.
“Wow,” intern number two exhales the moment Soobin leaves the premises. “You really are a veteran, sir. But does Choi Soobin’s soulmate really exist? Who is he looking for?”
Manager Lee shrugs and drops onto the sofa with a grunt. “Beats me. He doesn’t even know her name.”
*
Two.
“Yeonjun! Choi Yeonjun, look over here!”
“Choi Yeonjun, you look good today as well!”
“Please give a heart to the camera!”
“Fuck! Choi Yeonjun, you’re so fucking hot!”
That last one made Yeonjun’s mouth twitch into a smirk, and the screaming instantly became louder. Unintentional, but he relishes in the attention, anyway. He flips down his sunglasses to block the flashing lights from the cameras (causing another unintentional pandemonium), and his manager (Kim Noona, he likes to affectionately call when she’s about to yank out his hair roots for misbehaving) quickly ushers him into van before his rabid fans break through the bodyguards’ defenses and jump him.
“Good work today,” says Manager Kim as they start to drive away from the fansign venue. Yeonjun has his window rolled down and is blowing air kisses to the crowd. Ignorance is bliss, Manager Kim decides. “However, you don’t have time to run a catwalk on the way to the van tomorrow since you have another schedule immediately after the fansign. Try to strut for two minutes max tomorrow, please.”
“‘Kayyy,” Yeonjun hums, rolling the tinted windows back up and leaning back into the car seat with a satisfied groan. They’re on the way back to his apartment now. Time for him to start his routine. “Noona, do you have all the letters I got today?”
“Look to your left.” 
And there it is indeed— a stack of notes and envelopes and perfume-drenched messages of love and adoring affection. He flits through each one, skimming over every note and every letter like he’s looking for something. “Sleep early tonight,” Manager Kim tells him as he knits his brows, nearing the end of the stack. “You have a shoot in the morning, in case you forgot.” 
Yeonjun is back at the first letter he started with. Nothing, he lets out a sigh. Not one that he’s looking for.”
“Noona,” he calls out. “I’m going live right now.”
There’s a bump on the road.
“No, wait—”
[🔴 yawnzzn is live].
“Hehe. Yeonjunnie is here—!”
Manager Kim abruptly stops the car. Thank fucking god the road isn’t too crowded. She watches Yeonjun from the rearview mirror as he smiles at the outstretched camera and makes casual greetings and hello’s to the viewers, heart racing in fear. “Right now? I’m on the way back home. Can’t wait to get a nice shower once I get back.” Okay, she lets in a deep breath, starting the car once more. Yeonjun isn’t doing anything weird yet. Better to drop him off as soon as possible.
“Nooo, I haven’t had dinner yet, I’ll order once I get home. What do you guys recommend?”
He’s being normal. He’s acting fine. This is good.
“Ramen? That sounds good. Kimchi jjigae is also yummy.”
Maybe he just wanted to interact more with his fans, yes. He’s always been like that. Maybe he won’t say anything rash this time.
“Oh! The video with Mark Lee from NCT? Did you see us hugging? Hehe, Mark and I look good together?” They’re almost at his apartment building. They’re almost here. Once they arrive, Yeonjun will turn off the livestream and Manager Kim can finally fucking retire for the day. “That’s cute. But it’s too bad. I’m already interested in someone else.”
Screeeech!
The car stops. “Yeonjun.” But Yeonjun’s live stream is still ongoing. “Turn off the live.”
Yeonjun is smiling at his phone in painful ignorance. Manager Kim doesn’t miss the one second glance he spares at her. One second. One mere second before he starts inciting chaos even more. “Who? That’s a secretttt. I don’t want to tell you.”
Manager Kim’s phone starts buzzing. “Yeonjun, turn it off.” The buzzing won’t stop. Her personal phone starts going off as well
“Ah. Should I give you a hint?”
There’s an incoming call now.
“Choi Yeonjun, turn off the god damned—”
“Okay!” Yeonjun suddenly exclaims. He flashes a knowing smile to the camera, but his dearly stressed and overworked manager knows that it’s directed to her rather than the thousands of people witnessing the artist she’s in charge of stirring his third rumor of the week. Her phone won’t stop buzzing, it can be used as a fucking vibrator at this point. Choi Yeonjun is lucky he rakes in most of the agency’s profits— otherwise his contract would be terminated by now. “I have to go. My manager looks like she’s about to fire me, hehe. See you all tomorrow! Mwah!”
Just like that, the live stream ends, but Manager Kim’s phone is still incessantly ringing and beeping and giving the signal that Choi Yeonjun will once again go trending on Twitter— not in the way the company wants. Again. “Kim Noona?” Yeonjun calls out. “The light is green. The cars behind are honking at us.”
Manager Kim’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. “Yeonjun.” And they start moving again. “What are you gonna do once you get home?”
“Post a damage control photo. Got it.”
He knows. He knows yet he keeps pulling the same shit every week.
“Good...good— just,” his manager lets out a sigh, and they arrive at the front of his building. “No matter what I tell you, you won’t stop pulling these stunts, aren’t you?”
“Nope.” Yeonjun flashes her a grin, unbuckling his seatbelt, ready to slide the door open. “Thanks, noona! See you tomorrow!”
With that, Yeonjun leaves with a bounce in his step right after the mess he just made.
The problem is, Manager Kim can’t tell him to stop either after knowing exactly why he’s doing all of these scandal-bait, potentially career damaging things. It’s not something she can believe in, and it’s definitely not within the realm of reality. But after seeing the look on her artist’s eyes when he said— how many more headlines must he make until you can finally find your way back to him?
Well. All Manager Kim can do is work PR to their deaths for damage control.
*
Three.
“Why don’t we kick it off by listening to your latest single?”
Studio lights burn the set. Five seats are settled in place, four against one for an interview with one of the hottest K-Rock groups of the generation. Yeong-Il released a new single just earlier in the week, and it’s topped the charts ever since release. 
If I am given a second life I may live and breathe differently compared to now
Lee Heeseung looks happy to be here. So do Yang Jeongin and Lim Jimin. Choi Beomgyu, on the other hand, looks like he’d rather be anywhere else but here right now, complete with the faraway look on his face as he’s clearly not paying attention to the comments the host is making, instead drowning in melody and lyrics hummed by the speakers.
Among the streets we’ll walk past each other without knowing
“It’s quite different from our usual music, no?” Heeseung laughs.
I hope we remember each other
“Right!” Jeongin chimes in. “But I think we should hear from the man who produced and wrote this.”
Even in our next life Even at that time, I’ll go to you
“Choi Beomgyu!”
Even in our next life Even at that time, I’ll go to you
“Beomgyu, are you awake?”
Even if a second life That’s different from now comes to me The one thing I can say is That I’m going to be by your side
“Beomgyu!”
“Ah.” Beomgyu finally wakes up. He catches the concerned and nervous glances of his friends-slash-bandmates. Beomgyu takes the microphone from Jimin, tapping it once, before saying, “What do I do? It’s a little embarrassing to talk about this by myself.” Jeongin fails to hold back a snort at his lack of sincerity. Jimin sends him a nudge with his elbow. 
“Hey, this isn’t the first time you’ve written a song. Quit acting coy,” Heeseung manages to salvage the conversation, invisible sweat dripping down the side of his face. Beomgyu finally decides to stop stalling and answers the question.
“Well, anyhow, I think you can tell from the lyrics. Second Life is about a love that extends beyond lifetimes— promising that even after we’ve lived, died, and reborn as different people, there is still no one I’d love but you.” There’s some coughs from his bandmates. Beomgyu presses his lips into a smile. “That’s it.” And passes the microphone back to whoever reaches out for it first.
This kind of behavior from Yeong-il’s guitarist and vocalist isn’t new. 
The problem is, even though his team and fans are used to it, not everyone is, so the show’s host is taken aback by Beomgyu’s complete lack of care, unaffected and impenetrable. He stifles out a cough, flits through his cue cards. “O—oh, how romantic!” he exclaims. “I’ve noticed that a lot of your other songs that Choi Beomgyu-ssi has written seem to have a similar theme. Isn’t that right?”
“Yeah, it’s not really a secret, and it’s honestly pretty obvious,” Beomgyu answers, earning another nudge from Jimin. 
“He doesn’t seem like it, but Beomgyu is the biggest romanticist out of all of us,” Heeseung saves the day once more. Choi Beomgyu has been once dubbed as the biggest hurdle in every interviewer’s career. Nobody knows if he’s doing it on purpose, or if he really is just like that.
“We—well, can we ask what your inspiration is for writing this kind of music?”
It’s not a new question. It’s a question asked interview after interview to Choi Beomgyu whenever they release one of his songs riddled with his signatures of reincarnation, second lives, and first loves. But he’s always avoided answering them, sometimes going as far as outright telling the host that he doesn’t want to answer.
Though his bandmates are indeed both dreading and looking forward to the day Beomgyu would finally make a public answer to that million dollar question—
“Myself.”
—they certainly did not expect him to answer with the truth.
“What?”
“The tracks were inspired by myself,” he says, face flat, free from any sign of humor or jest. “I’m still waiting for my first love from my first life. There must be a reason why I still remember her and the life we shared. Doesn’t that mean we’re both destined to meet again?”
Silence washes over. Everyone on set is looking at Beomgyu, waiting for him to laugh or smile or crack a joke or some shit just to give an indication that he wasn’t at all serious with that statement. Their managers are frozen. They’re all looking at Heeseung to finally and neatly wrap things up before the mood gets worse.
Heeseung gets the signal. He quickly snatches the microphone from his friend and starts making bullshit up and praying to god that this part gets edited out. “Aha—ahaha, Beomgyu really likes to remain in character! That’s how much he takes his music seriously! Anyway—”
The rest of the interview turns up normally. No unexpected backstory reveals or trauma-dumps. No mentions of possible supernatural phenomena whatsoever and that’s mostly because Beomgyu decided to keep quiet for the rest of it.
He’s seriously a ticking time bomb, all but him share the same thought upon exiting the studio, until Heeseung finally confronts him about it when they reach the van.
“Dude, what the hell was that?”
“I know, I know. You don’t have to nag me,” Beomgyu groans. “We can ask them not to air that part, anyway. I’m just getting impatient.”
Impatience.
That’s a mutual feeling shared by all three of them. 
Twenty years. That’s how long they’ve been waiting. Centuries, if you count the period in between their previous lives and now. But when the person they’ve been waiting for finally shows up— patience will be a virtue that they’ll need to learn to strengthen. Patience. They’ll need to be a hell of a lot more patient if they want to take back what they lost.
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STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.
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338 notes · View notes
lloromanic0 · 2 months
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Finally finished this hope you like it because I was giggling and kicking my feet writing this.
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Professor Tom Kaulitz wants to talk to you after lecture (fem!reader)
“You can read more on these types of speech acts on the article I’m going to send to everyone’s email, other than that you’re free to go. Thank you for your presence.” Announced your linguistics professor.
Finally. You desperately needed to go out for a smoke and maybe eat something, linguistics lectures were always a pain in the ass, your professor’s voice made you feel sleepy and to be honest learning about speech acts wasn’t the most intriguing thing.
As you were getting up you heard your name being called
“Excuse me Y/N if I’m not mistaken. I would like to see you after you’re done with classes, I have some matters I would like to discuss with you.”
Your professor was the one calling your name,his strong eye contact made you feel intimidated and nervous.
“Sure Mister.Kaulitz…”
“Good. 5pm my office on the first floor.” He said smiling at you.
You lighted up your cigarette as you just finished telling one of your colleagues what had just happened.
“You just got called to the office of the hottest professor in this university and you’re complaining?!”
“Not everyone wants to fuck him you know?” You replied, inhaling the smoke of your cigarette once more.
“Well I’m sure he you like to fuck you.”
“What do you mean?” You looked at her with a worried expression.
“You’re oblivious, he literally stares at you the whole lecture. He’s not even trying to hide it, I’ve seen him check you out while you walked to your seat once.”
“What a creep...” You rolled your eyes, you couldn’t lie he was attractive but still,it felt a little weird to think about him in that way.
“Whatever. What even is that he wants to talk to you about?”
“No idea.” You responded while exhaling the smoke from your cigarette.
“Well good luck with that. I’m going to my next class see you later.” She waved at you as she got inside the building.
You threw your cigarette on the floor and stepped on it, heading inside to get an espresso before your next class.
You walked to the amphitheater and sat on the back seats, placing your bag down taking out your laptop in case you needed to take some notes.
As your professor began the lecture your mind kept wondering thinking about professor Kaulitz, did he really stare at you that much? You started to recall some images of that in your head, that one time you went for a smoke and saw him sitting in a balcony in front of the campus he kept looking at you so you decided to challenge him by making eye contact,he just smiled and walk away. You felt naïve remembering that you told your friend that you never noticed him staring at you. The way he kept asking you to answer his annoying questions during lecture so you were forced to pay attention, the times when he called you at the end of class to scold you because you kept leaving in the middle of class and coming back 30 minutes later, that one time you wore a top with a V neckline and he ended class earlier than usual because he kept loosing his reasoning while he was speaking each time he looked in your direction. You really were oblivious to all of this and never gave into his little signs, mainly because you really didn’t see things that away or never really payed attention to the stuff happening around you. Probably why he stoped doing those things recently and being dry and a little rude when you did ask him questions. “What a jerk” you thought to yourself. “He can have me if that’s what he wants but I’ll not make it easy for him.”
The lecture finished so you got up and walked to his office. As you approached the door you suddenly got very nervous for some reason.
Dr. Professor Tom Kaulitz (office 1.111)
After calming down you knocked on his door.
“Come in.”
You opened the door and sat down in front of him.
“You’re late.”
You looked at the clock that was hanging on the wall.
“It’s 5:02 pm.”
“Which means you’re late, young lady.”
“Is that a German thing? Like you can’t stand tardiness at all.”
He laughed at your observation.
“Maybe.”
Silence filled the room for a minute.
“So…why did you want to talk to me Sir?”
He looked at you, gulping hard.
Tom’s pov
Now that she’s here in my office I can’t bring myself to talk to her. I know this is a risky situation, what if she starts go crazy screaming at me telling the whole university that I’m a pervert, I’ve tried to hold myself back for so long but she messes me up I need her for myself.
Narrator’s pov
“Professor?…”
“Oh sorry I got carried away.”
You stay in silence fidgeting with your hands, now that you were in his presence you started to get nervous, his office had minimal lighting and all the windows were closed it felt hot and humid but taking your jacket off at the moment felt inappropriate.
“I wanted to talk to you about your performance in my classes.”
“What do you mean?”
In his class the performance you had during the lecture did not reflect in your final grade so it was odd of him to talk about this.
“You’ve been skipping a lot and you’re missing some assignments.”
“Sir I apologize but I’m passing so it doesn’t really matter to me, I have other classes and responsibilities to take care of.” You could feel that he got a little angry at your answer.
“Miss, unfortunately to actually pass a class attendance is almost mandatory, and if I do say so myself your grades aren’t the best even if you’re passing.”
Who did he think he was talking to you like that,this is university not high school, why the fuck does he care if your grades are bad or not you just wanted to pass.
“And why do you care so much?” You asked starting to get annoyed.
He sighed.
“Look Y/N just come to class, please.”
“And what if I don’t?”
You asked while leaning over,placing your arms on his desk. He hesitated to answer.
“Do you want to see me that bad, Mister Kaulitz?” You questioned in a sultry tone. His heart was racing, he fixed his posture making eye contact with you.
“So bad.” He boldly replied.
“I didn’t know you were like this Sir.”
“I’m not. You just drive me insane, you can’t imagine how pissed I get when I don’t get to see you or when you leave my class and take ages to come back.”
He got up from his chair walking in your direction.
“I want you Y/N. I’ve tried to hold myself back but my body keeps calling for you.”
You got up from your chair, to stand in front of him.
“Why should I let you have me?” You said while poking his chest.
“Because…” he grabbed you by your lower back “I’d say you want me too. Am I wrong Y/N?”
You placed both hands on his chest.
“Hhmm maybe I do.”
“If you didn’t want me I know you would’ve left my office ages ago.”
“Maybe I’m just teasing you.”
“Don’t you think you have teased me enough all these months?”
“I can always play with you a little longer sir.” You replied placing your arms around his neck, his large hands massaging your back as he lowered his face closer to yours, you lean in capturing his lips in a deep wet kiss.
“For a boring professor you do know how to kiss.”
“You know I wasn’t always a “boring” professor.”
You giggle at his answer. He grabbed your hand guiding you to his desk.
“Sit.”
You complied with his request sitting on top of his desk pushing away whatever papers and documents were on the way.
He placed his hand behind your neck as you lean into his touch exposing your neck for him, his teeth graze against your skin and you can feel his hot breath against it.
He sucked lightly on your skin licking the spot he has just marked, you hummed in response.
“May I take this off?” He asked his hands already under your shirt.
“Yes..sir.”
He removed your shirt placing it on his chair, he admired your upper body making you feel a little embarrassed but not letting it show.
“You’re even more beautiful like this Y/N.”
You give him a soft smile as he reaches for your back to unclip your bra, freeing your perked up breasts from it. His hands immediately reach to cup both of them, giving them light squeezes and twisting both your nipples, you let out a high pinched moan at slight pain he inflicted on you.
“Shh keep it down baby, as much as I would love to hear your moans it’s better to keep quiet here.” He whispered giving you a small kiss on your lips.
His mouth was now wrapped around your right nipple sucking lightly on it making you bite your lip so your moans couldn’t escape, his beautiful brow eyes looking up at you as the tip of his tongue licked over your nipple gently and his hand toyed with the other. You rubbed your legs together the wetness between them becoming overwhelming, the boner in his pants also making it impossible to stay still.
“Fuck…ich brauche dich.“
“Then have me Mister Kaulitz…” you murmur.
Tom reached for his belt undoing it, unzipping his jeans and finally pulling out his throbbing hard cock, you admire his length, his pink tip, the veins that adorned his shaft and his size that looked like a perfect fit for your aching hole. He lifted up your skirt, his fingers brushing over your clothed pussy feeling your wetness through them.
“Tell me you want this Y/N.” He almost begged.
“I want this so much Tom.”
Satisfied with your answer he pulled down your panties the cold hair hitting your wet cunt making you feel goosebumps all over your skin.
“So wet for me baby…” he said while brushing his tip between your damp folds little moans escaping both of your lips, Tom slowly inserted himself into you, giving you time to get adjusted to him despite his neediness to fuck you.
He then proceeded to grab your thighs lifting you up a bit so that he could get a good angle to penetrate you, you hug him tightly your hands wrapped around his shoulders, he moves his hips at a steady pace making sure to hit your g spot repeatedly, feeling his tip brush against that spot makes your legs tremble. It’s hard not to moan at the overwhelming pleasure so you bite down on his shoulder making him grunt lowly, his hips keep thrusting upwards as you clench around him multiple times making him curse under his breath.
“You feel so good fuck mmhmm~” grunted Tom.
“Mhhm don’t stop Tom oh my god-“ you replied.
His thrusts now deeper making sure you feel every inch of him moving in and out of your tight pussy, your grip on his shoulders so hard he will be bruised for the next few days, his never stopping movements driving you closer to the edge as your need to cum grew with each thrust.
“Tom m’gonna cum-“
“Yeah cum for me baby, cum on this cock yeahhh~”
With a few more of Tom’s powerful thrusts you came all over his cock, you wetness coating his length as he kept fucking you desperately wanting to reach his orgasm.
“Oh mmhhm yeah m’gonna cum on this pussy oh fuck yeah-“ he moaned.
Slapping his hips against yours repeatedly hitting your cervix with his tip a few more times he came deep inside you letting out a low moan, his movements becoming slower as he rode his high.
“You did so good for me…” he whispered next to your ear placing a small kiss on your lobe.
You smiled back at him looking at his handsome face in pure adoration. He helped you get clean with the few tools that he had in his office, and later that day he drove you to your dorm.
After this day you and professor Kaulitz maintained a private relationship.
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cvrnelians · 10 months
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smile like you mean it - chapter five
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You knew filing for divorce would be no easy feat. But filing for divorce from Roman Roy?
"No easy feat” might as well have been synonymous with “impossible."
warnings: drug use, alcoholism, miscarriage, Roman and the rest of the Roy family being awful.
chapters 1-3 // chapter four
music
chapter five
10 ways to get someone to like you: A foolproof guide
If you want to be liked, be likable.
Roman scowled and slammed his laptop shut, carelessly tossing it to the end of the bed. 
“What a stupid fucking article.”
He got up and stretched, his limbs still rigid from a heavy sleep. If there was anything positive to come out of the complete and utter shitshow that was the day before, a good night’s sleep took the cake. Rest was something Roman didn’t get a whole lot of lately, but when he did sleep, he slept hard. 
Prior to becoming COO of Waystar Royco, he had always been a heavy sleeper. It wasn’t unusual for him to get eight hours of shuteye even after napping all day. He had a copious amount of (not-so-fond) childhood memories in which Connor, Kendall, and Shiv jumped on his bed in order to wake him up. They often had to hit him with pillows and shake him to the point of nausea to get him to finally open his eyes.
Well, they didn’t really have to. 
There were a small handful of differences between now and then. 
Although he would never admit it, his job was a big source of stress for him. The most pathetic thing about it? Most days he didn’t accomplish even twenty five percent of what his colleagues did. And what he was able to do completely exhausted him. It was a lot to live up to, being the inheritor—and now a figurehead—of a monster he hadn’t created; a monster he wasn’t even sure he wanted to keep feeding. 
Another major difference between now and then was that Kendall no longer needed to shake him from a dead sleep in order to make him feel nauseous. All it really took was watching him walk into your room in the middle of the night, casual as could be, to put Roman into a not-so-ideal headspace.
“Acting like he was reuniting with an old friend or some shit,” he mumbled under his breath. He got into the shower, his mind going a million miles a minute as he continued talking to himself. “I’m Kendall,” he mocked. “I’m better than everyone now, didn’t you know? I went to rehab. I drink green juice. I’ve read The Secret. I don’t have stress anymore because I never see my own children. Look how stable I am now.” 
This was the one downside of being so well-rested. His brain actually lived up to its potential. His mind simply refused to slow down. No matter how hard he willed himself not to think of you, he only thought about you that much more. Not that this was all that different from any other day. Roman thought about you all the time, sleep deprived or not.
He liked you. Okay? Even with your cheap clothes and your shitty attitude and your refusal to sit next to him in the car, he had some…feelings when it came to you.
Ew.
He hated it when you were upset with him, and he hated it even more when you weren’t around.
From the first time he saw you, he liked you. A lot, actually.
Roman liked you a lot.
He had gone to your room the night before to say he was sorry discuss how hypersensitive you were being in response to the hilarious things he said, but he stopped short in the doorway. 
As it turned out, you were busy. So as any gentleman would, Roman said fuck that noise and booked it back to his room. That was the second time you made him run that day, you little jerk.
He wondered if he should take bearing witness to that stomach-turning embrace between you and Kendall as a sign. Perhaps he should never apologize to anyone, for any reason, ever again. Not even to those who deserved an apology. Not even to you. If that was what he got for trying to be the bigger person, having to watch his stormcloud of an older brother get what he wanted without even having to try, well…what was the point? 
“Likable. Likable? What does that even mean?” he asked himself. 
Why would the author of that article automatically assume the people reading it were the unlikable ones? What kind of introduction was that? Why should he have to shoulder the responsibility of someone not liking him? Why should he have to do all this work to win you over? Why was he even worried about it? You should be the one trying to get into his good graces. You should be the one typing stupid questions into Google at seven o’ clock in the morning, not him. It didn’t matter that he called you a run-of-the-mill, ladder climbing, H&M wearing plebeian (or a coffee gopher). It didn’t matter that he had driven you to the brink of a full blown mental breakdown under his tenure. It didn’t matter that knowing he was the one that made you cry felt like a punch to the gut.
...which didn't even turn him on, by the way.
None of it mattered. He shouldn’t have to apologize for a thing. You were obviously sleeping with Kendall. Kendall! Even if you weren’t working for him, sleeping with Kendall would still put you in the wrong in any context. You were trying so desperately to make Roman believe he was the problem, just as everyone else did. You little gaslighter. 
You weren’t seriously going to leave over a couple of little insults, right?
Right?
He was so distracted by his own thoughts, he somehow managed to get a concerning amount of shampoo in his eyes. 
“Ow, FUCK!” 
Following five stressful minutes of washing his eyes out (or trying to, anyway), he slumped over and held his hands over his face, allowing the water to run directly over his head. He could still picture you crying on the plane, which he had been doing on a loop for the past several hours. He could concede that he came off a little unpleasant at times, but it was more of a defense mechanism than anything. Deep down, Roman knew he didn’t take anyone seriously simply because no one else took him seriously. But you had wanted to be taken seriously, and did everything to earn that. 
You were having some relatively fun banter prior to the moment he turned on you like a feral dog. When he was finished with his cutting little monologue, you looked like you had been slapped. Seeing you so upset and proceeding to mock you for it…
Ugh.
This was not uncharacteristic of Roman, but it wasn't necessarily his proudest moment, either. It made him sick to his stomach, as a matter of fact. 
A lot of things about the past few days made him sick to his stomach.
He could remember having a similar feeling from when he was growing up. Everything would be fine and dandy until he would say or do one little thing to set Logan off, and then bam: 
First came the hurt, then came the ridicule. 
“Oh, you’re crying now? You’re crying? Why don’t you just go tell Kendall about it? I’m sure he’d love nothing more.” 
Roman cringed at his own words.
First came the hurt, then came the ridicule. 
And then he was alone.
If you want to be liked, be likable.
He would never say it to you directly, but if he could, he would.
"I’m sorry I made you so sad."
☽ 
“You have no idea how things will turn out, and it’s very juvenile. It’s fucking dumb. You’re being dumb!”
You cringed as Kendall’s words bounced around in your head.
Last night had been very interesting, to say the least.
For several hours now, you lay flat on your back, slipping in and out of a restless sleep. When you did become lucid, you simply stared up at the impossibly tall vaulted ceiling. It was painted and preserved beautifully, gold borders encasing rich shades of red and blue. You reached your arm up, pretending to trace and retrace the intricate patterns with your fingers. Exhausted yet unable to sleep, you needed something mindless and soothing to wind yourself down. 
Sadly, your efforts were to no avail. Your mind was still racing, hyper focused on what transpired the night before. It was jarring to think that just a simple “so, how have you been?” from Kendall would open a Pandora's box you had no clue even existed. You didn’t have much time to concentrate on it, though. At that moment, two things happened at once.
You felt a stab of panic as you received a notification that your flight was now boarding. You couldn’t believe it. You had missed your flight. You had dissociated to the point of having missed your flight. And before you could even sit up, you were startled by a loud banging noise against your door. It sounded like someone was ramming something into it full force. You weren't even sure who you were hoping not to see at this point.
Not since Kendall went absolutely ballistic on you.
“Knock, knock!” a familiar voice yelled. He didn’t bother actually knocking, nor did he wait for you to respond. He probably thought the unpleasant crash was sufficient enough.
You were almost relieved.
Enter one Roman Roy.
But he wasn’t alone. In front of him was the culprit, the battering ram that nearly gave you a heart attack, in the form of a large metal breakfast cart. If that wasn’t bizarre enough, he was dressed in athletic wear. He looked out of place in such a grandiose room, like you were playing a beginner’s version of “I Spy.” 
I spy with my little eye something reprehensible.
“Here comes the breakfast fairy,” he said in an awkward, singsong voice. He slowly rolled  the unsteady cart towards you. “Here to um…y’know. Bring you breakfast. Breakfast just for you.”
A wheel broke off as he made his way over, making coffee spill onto the tray. He cursed as he shakily lifted the tray up off the cart and reached over to hand it to you. You gawked at him. “Okay, that’s what I get for saying that. That was fucking stupid. I didn’t say that. You don’t remember me saying that.” 
“You brought me breakfast?”
“It would appear so,” he said cheerfully. “Like a good boy.”
“I missed my flight,” you blurted out awkwardly. 
He paused for a second, taking a deep breath before reverting back to his typically rude delivery. “Yeah, not my problem. Can you please just take the tray? It’s really heavy.”  
“I missed my flight,” you repeated. 
He ignored you and slowly set the tray on your lap. He lifted the lid to reveal a pretty solid breakfast as far as you were concerned: a single poptart and two comically large cups of coffee. One was black, the other a latte with a poorly drawn happy face carved into the foam. You would have laughed if you weren’t so stressed out. All of this buildup for a lone pastry and an alarming amount of coffee.
“Where’s the second poptart?”
“I ate it. Obviously. Don’t be ungrateful,” he snapped. “You like wildberry, right? You seem like you would like wildberry. A little fun, a little different. Spice up your life, or whatever.”
You rolled your eyes, breaking the poptart into several pieces before taking a bite. “You could have the most elaborate breakfast in the world, and yet you’d prefer to have this?”
“What? I may be rich but that doesn’t mean I like exclusively rich people things. Have you seen rich people food? I mean, probably not but…” 
You tentatively picked up the latte. “Did you poison this? Did you spit in this?”
“Hah, you wish.”
“I wish?”
“I mean, I can if you’d like,” he said, leaning towards you.
“No!” you yelled, making him wince. You lowered your voice. “Sorry, no. I think I’m alright.”
He reached down to pick up the other mug. “This one's for meee.”
“Of course it is.”
He gasped, cradling the side of his face with his palm in mock excitement. “Uh oh. I have an idea. Do you want to spit in mine?”
“I hate this conversation," you sighed. "You’d probably be into that, so I’m gonna say no.”
“Well, how do you know for sure that the cool one is yours?”
You shrugged. “Because I’m cool.”
“You sure about that?” 
“And I know you like your coffee black.”
“Touché,” he said, leaning against the wall across from your bed. You both drank your coffee in silence for a few moments.
“Did you bring this from home?” you asked, pointing to the poptart. 
“No. I made that lanky muppet go buy me a box.”
You raised your eyebrows. “Wh...Wait, are you talking about Greg?”
“Yeah, I figured I would send Gumby on a little errand since I apparently can’t do that with you anymore. Since you’re—” he made air quotes with his fingers—“quitting.” 
“Wait, does he even know how to drive in the UK? How did he even get to a store? We’re miles from—” 
“I told him I would make him sleep outside if he didn’t figure out a way to score me some. I have no clue how he got all the way out into the city so fast. Can you believe that? Being tall does have its perks, I guess. His strides had him moving at the speed of light, apparently.” 
You gawked at him again, horrified. 
Poor, poor Greg.
You dropped the remaining pieces of the poptart on your plate. “I’m not hungry anymore.” 
“Oh come on, it’s funny. Don’t let his efforts be in vain.” He took a big gulp of coffee. “Anyway. I was thinking...”
“Why are you dressed like that?” you asked.
“Like what?”
“Like a fitness influencer.”
“I was getting to that. Don’t interrupt me.”
You leaned your head back and groaned. 
“Okay, drama. Calm down. We’re all supposed to go golfing this morning, but I hate golf. I'm pretty sure you do, too. You told me once. So I thought maybe we could, like. I don’t know. Pretend to go for a run like we usually do? Talk? Only if it’s not going to cut into your busy schedule, of course. Ms. Newly Unemployed.”
“Roman, what could you possibly want to talk about? If you’re going to try and convince me to stay, don’t waste your time.”
“I was thinking we could get to know each other, at least a little bit. That way, I would know what to put in your reference letter when you blow this popsicle stand.”  
“Yeah. Like you would write the letter yourself,” you mused. "Like you even could. You can't even reply to an email in a timely manner."
“Hey!”
“Fine. It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do. Like I said, I missed my flight and am feeling like a total idiot. Bet you’re really getting off on that one.” 
He stared at you for a few seconds, like he was thinking carefully about what to say next. 
“What?” you asked.
He sighed. “I’m not getting off on it as much as you might think.”
You raised your eyebrows.
“I don’t know how you perceive me exactly, but I have a general idea. And I know this might come as a shock, but like I said, I’m really not that bad. I mean, okay. I am. I am. But not in every situation, not always. I’ll have you know, I do have my moments.”
“Yeah? When?”
“Right now, maybe? Look, I brough—”
“Brought me breakfast. Yeah. I can see that.”
“Which I still haven’t gotten a proper thank you for, by the way.”
“I’ll give you a proper thank you when you give me a proper apology.”
“Fine. Okay, I’m sorry I was a little unreasonable with you yesterday. I’m sorry I, uh…manhandled you when we were getting into the car. Or tried to. Like, really, really tried.You’re pretty strong, you know that?” 
“Is that all?” you asked, cocking your head to one side.
“And I’m sorry for what I said about you and Kendall. And calling you names. I didn’t mean it. That about covers it, right?”
“And?”
“...being a dick?”
You considered not even bringing it up, but since you decided to quit your job, you simply did not care anymore.
“Aren’t you sorry that you lied to me?”
“Wait, what?” he asked, on the verge of laughter. “I didn’t lie to you. Lie to you about what?” 
Your conversation with Kendall rang loud and clear in your ears.
“It’s so good to see you. I wish you could’ve been on the flight with us, but I know you got held up. Work comes first.” 
Work comes first? What did that have to do with there not being enough seats on the jet? 
“Got held up?” 
“Yeah, Roman told us you guys were swamped.” 
“I…I mean, yeah. I’m always busy, but we flew separately because Roman told me there wasn’t enough room on the plane for us.” 
“I’m sorry. What did you just say?” 
“Yeah, he said there were some issues with the seats. A few of them needed to be repaired, so there wasn’t enough space for everyone.”
“Are you…oh my god,”  Kendall scoffed. “Oh my fucking god.”
“Ken, I don’t—”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Roman, why did we fly here separate from everybody else?”
Roman choked on his coffee, making him stop to clear his throat. “I already told you, there wasn’t enough space for our sparkling personalities on Dad's favorite plane.”
“Not enough space?”
“Yep.”
“You sure about that?”
“Look, no matter what evocative bullshit you send my way this morning, you can’t change my mind. I’ve already decided. I want to make things up to you. So, if you’re upset that I maybe told a little white lie, I’m sorry.”
“So you did lie, then?”
He eyed you sheepishly.
“Sort of. How did you figure it out?"
“I don’t get it. Of all things, why would you lie about that?” 
“I don’t know, maybe it had something to do with me not wanting to hang out with my family in a torture chamber for hours? What if we crashed? You think I wanna die surrounded by a bunch of scorpions?”
“They’re your family!”
“Unfortunately."
“If the two of us crashed together, you’d have died alongside someone that doesn’t even like you. How is that more appealing?”
"Oh, how you wound me," he said flatly. “That may be so, but you don’t annoy me. Not to mention, you only sting me if I sting you first. It’s refreshing.”
You didn’t have the mental bandwidth to analyze that one this morning.
“Alright, fine. But your apology tour isn’t quite over yet.”
“You do know I don’t have to apologize to you at all, don’t you? You’re leaving. You’re basically nothing to me.”
“And yet, here you are.” 
“What can I say? I’m just such a nice guy.”
You both stared at each other for a second before launching into hysterics.
Roman sighed as you both attempted to stop cackling. “You know this is the most you’ve smiled at me in…like, ever? Is that poptart really that good?”
“I just feel relieved is all.”
“And why is that?”
“Why do you think?” you asked. "I'm finally freeing myself from your reign of tyranny."
"Do you really hate me that much?" he asked, setting down his mug. “We have fun sometimes, don't we? I mean, we got into a blowout argument yesterday and now we're totally fine. Even when we argue, I still don't feel like we're enemies. And believe me, I have a lot of those. Are you sure you want to leave?”
The way he was looking at you was truthfully making you a little sad. But as per usual, he wasn't thinking logically. You were practically attached at the hip every day. Of course there was some level of familiarity between the two of you, even amidst all the chaos. It was easy to mistake for friendship, given how often you were in communication, given how much you did for him. But that was your job.
You had to stop yourself from smiling.
Not anymore, it wasn't.
“Roman, the way we communicate is super dysfunctional. You’ve made me cry multiple times. Yes, I’m sure I want to leave.”
“Ugh," he groaned. "Okay. Look, as far as I'm concerned, you're king shit of fuck mountain right now."
"Excuse me, what?" you laughed.
"What you say goes. Pick a number, I'll increase your salary. Lay out some ground rules. I'm not the most ethically sound person in the world, but I do know how to compromise when it comes to doing what's best for business. And you're probably the only person who can tolerate me, so."
"Roman, I don't think I can come back from yesterday. That was way, way too much. But it's not just you. Last nigh—"
"I was wrong," he interrupted you. "I usually am. Shocker. But here's the thing: you're kind of like...invaluable, to me?" It came out as more of a reluctant question than a statement. His voice was shaky and small as he continued on. "You've, um...helped me a lot. In more ways than one. And I don't want you quitting and just going to work for Kendall again, because I don't really trust him."
"Roman, I can assure you that is not something you will ever have to worry about. Last nigh—"
"Just don't go, please."
You would've been more annoyed with him constantly interrupting you if his voice didn't sound so pitiful, if he didn't look so pitiful. You were caught off guard by the groveling. Not necessarily put off by it, but certainly surprised. This was possibly the most vulnerable you had ever seen him. And the whole breakfast thing; since when did Roman go out of his way to do something deliberately nice for you? It was very obviously to serve his own purposes. He didn't want you to quit, but it didn't seem to come from a bad place.
You had observed him for a second too long, it seemed. He cleared his throat and quickly regained his composure. Just like his kindness, Roman's willingness to be vulnerable also had a very short shelf life.
"If you expect another apology, you can fuck off. And I know you do expect one. But don't actually fuck off, you know what I mean? Out of everybody here, I want you to fuck off the least."
"Wow," you said flatly. "That's amazing."
"I know. I can't believe it, either."
☽ 
kendall 👀👀
@pearlstiare // @ay0nha // @theladyalicnt // @littleladdty @spacebaby1
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