a/n: first full length shark fic! I think I'm hooked guys...Feel free to send thoughts or requests!!
content: period comfort/ fluff, mentions of cramps and general period pain, wisps of situational self-loathing if you squint
[2.2k]
brendon park x reader
You can't help but squirm where you lie on your couch. The sun streaks in across the rug on the living room floor, a sight you've been looking at for the better part of two hours. When you woke up this morning it didn't feel this bad, but every now and again, especially when it's most inconvenient, your period comes crashing in, hitting you like a ton of bricks. It's humbling to say the least.
You expel a breathy sigh during a small reprieve in the cramping. Without jostling yourself too much, you reach awkwardly to the table beside you where you abandoned your phone earlier. Turning it over, you see a few missed messages from Brendon. Fuck. You realize they're from hours ago, trying to confirm your lunch date plans for today—it's a rare day off for him. Excitedly, both of you wanted to take advantage of the opportunity, but now it looks like you're gonna have to ruin it. Before you can conjure a response, Brendon is calling you, contact flashing across the screen as your phone vibrates obnoxiously. You do your best to compose yourself before answering. Sigh. You slide your thumb on the screen.
"Hello," you greet aiming for enthusiastic and a little sorry.
"Hi there, gorgeous," he answers, seemingly unperturbed. "Were you sleeping in?"
"Something like that," you attempt a chuckle but wind up wincing instead. You curl in on yourself struggling to find a comfortable position, to no avail. "I'm sorry I only just saw your texts," you say too softly.
You swear you can hear him consider your tone over the line. "That's okay, baby. I just wanted to check on you; make sure we're still on for today?" he says to you, expectant.
There's a part of you that's delusional because you want nothing more than to say yes, and you can't stand the thought of letting him down and destroying your plans. Maybe you can suck it up and mercifully, it will go away on its own. The realistic part of you knows you can hardly walk across your apartment let alone Pittsburgh. You don't think you can muster an answer, and you must have hesitated for longer than you realized because Brendon cuts through your train of thoughts.
"Hey, are you doing okay?" he asks you point blank, and sounds genuinely worried. You can almost see the wrinkle between his strong brows as they furrow. You can't tell if it would be a worse sight than if you tell him the truth and watch his face fall in disappointment.
"Yeah," you reply too quickly. You weren't necessarily planning on lying to him but the response left your lips before you could even think. You can't really think about much other than the pain wreaking havoc on your lower abdomen that's radiating throughout your body.
"Yeah, I'm not buying that," he says matter-of- factly. He has a way of being stern in the gentlest way possible when the situation demands it. It's clear something is going on, so he's not giving up until you admit it and he knows how to help. "You sound like you're in pain," he says, pointedly tender. "What's wrong?"
You don't have the fortitude to resist anymore, another wave hitting you in stride that makes you want to grit your teeth. "Cramps," you hiss, voice strained. Yeah, you're not forming full sentences.
He croons sympathetically as you reveal the source of your pain. "Baby, I'm so sorry," he says and means it. He mentions nothing of the lunch date as he continues, "Can you give me like ten minutes?" he asks. You're confused.
"Huh?" you ask.
"I was already on my way when I called you. I'm ten minutes from yours," he replies.
You should panic, wanting to tidy the place and yourself a bit, but something like relief swells in your chest instead. "Brendon, you don't have to…"
"The hell I don't, baby," he says offended. "No way I'm leaving you alone like this."
"I'm disgusting," you whine miserably. Brendon swears he can hear rustling on your end of the line. Like you're gonna get up and try to get ready before he arrives.
"I promise you're not," he says. "And don't you dare think about moving."
"Fine…"
…
Five minutes later, there's a soft knock on your front door and quickly the sound of a key fitting into the lock.
"Hey baby, it's me!" He announces himself as he enters your apartment. "You alive in here?" He asks roaming around after leaving his shoes by the door. He expects to find you buried in bed, but his eyes lock with yours once he rounds the other side of your living room couch. You had barely let out a peep.
"Hi," you say weakly, and still with your lips pulled at the corners. Even under tremendously sucky circumstances, it's wonderful to see him. His presence already somewhat of a balm soothing your distress.
Brendon wastes no time rushing forward, crouching next to where your head is sinking into the worn, pliable cushion. His hand goes straight to your hair, stroking your head with a gentleness that makes your face feel hot. Your sinuses pulse with stinging pressure. "I didn't know it was this bad, Angel," he says, somewhat pained, and to his horror, your brows pinch sharply; your lip beginning to tremble.
"I'm sorry," you croak on a shaky exhale. Your cheeks are painted with wetness not for the first time today.
"Hey. No," he insists in the most soothing tone he has. "What are you sorry for?"
"I…" you begin but shudder as you speak around another soft sob. "I….I really wanted to go out." He sighs, pained at your upset and softly thumbs the new tears away from your face. "My stupid period ruined our day," you cry.
"Whoa, hey," he says somewhat alarmed, searching for the best way to deescalate this spiral and get you into his arms. It doesn't take long for him to make up his mind. "Are you in too much pain to move?"
You sniffle. "It's okay right now." You barely finish responding before his arms slide beneath you and scoop you up. It's startling how easy it is for him to do, and you almost laugh. You could be feeling your absolute worst, and Brendon will still find a way to sweep you off your feet (sometimes literally), helping you forget a little bit what had you so upset in the first place. He looks pleased to see you smile. You're limp with love.
…
He left you in your bedroom after tucking you beneath the blankets and making sure you were comfortable. You can hear him tinkering in the kitchen, his footfalls crossing between there and the bathroom. There's a soft knock at your doorway before too long.
Your smile returns. "Brendon, you don't have to do all that."
"Yeah? Well what if I want to?" he asks rhetorically as he enters. You notice he brought a tray of goodies, including a steaming mug of tea which he sets carefully on your nightstand. He's wearing a black tee that's ever so slightly rumpled, and it compliments his biceps in a way that makes you all warm and fuzzy. You think of how soft it felt on your cheek, and how it makes his pecs look insane. "What?" he asks as he notices your stare.
"Nothing."
"Yeah right," he chuffs.
"Just a sight for sore eyes is all," you admit shamelessly. You think you can see a glimmer of flustered energy cross his face at the blatant remark. He chuckles softly, clearly pleased.
"You seem to be feeling better," he remarks, taking a seat next to your hip and stroking your thigh over the covers. "But I still wanna get some pain killers in you to be safe. Have you taken anything?"
"A couple Advil earlier, but they didn't really do anything," you say.
"When?"
"9:30," you reply.
"Okay. Should be good then. I think you should take some even if we think it might not help," he says, taking the bottle from the tray and unscrewing the cap. He shakes out two pills and offers them to you with the glass of water he also brought.
You take both from him gratefully, handing him back the glass when you're finished. "I'm sorry about today," you say looking a bit guilty.
He levels you with a look that says 'are you fucking serious?', disapproval and fondness written on his strong features. "Baby," he stresses, "you have zero to be sorry for, okay?" He raises his hand so he can hold your face while he reassures you. "We still get to spend time together. That's what matters."
You hear his reasoning. You really do. You sigh and sink into the touch some, relinquishing some control. "I just wish it didn't have to be like this," you say somewhat wistful. Brendon's happy to hear the tone of self-blame start seeping away from your voice.
"I know," he says, understanding, "I wish you weren't in any pain, sweetheart." He squeezes your cheek in his palm, affection pouring. "We don't always get to choose how we spend time with each other, regardless of the plans we make."
"I know…" you agree, "but I'm glad you're here. I mostly just missed you," you admit, fingers drifting to hold his wrist below your face.
"Oh, Angel," Brendon croons. He takes the confession as an opportunity to bring you into his chest, arms snug around you. You can't tell if the embrace is more for you, or for him. His hand shushes the fabric between your shoulder blades. "I missed you too, and I'm so glad I can be here to take care of you, alright?"
"Yeah," you smile into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. You feel like pressing a kiss there, and he shivers almost imperceptibly as you do. He returns it with warm kisses to your forehead. You're probably more jelly than girl at this point.
"What can I do for you now?" he says interrupting the comfortable silence.
"Keep holding me?" you ask, almost a whisper.
"My pleasure." He pulls back from your hug to which you almost whimper at the loss, but he swiftly climbs over your lap to the spot beside you, peeling back the covers. He settles half against the pillows, and opens his arms to you. You oblige quickly, and back into his chest so that you can spoon. He gets the message. His big, warm hand drifts over your hip, rubbing a few passes over your stomach until he nestles it into that sweet spot below your bellybutton, applying light pressure.
The sound you make is nearly pornographic.
"That good, huh?" he asks, cheeky and utterly pleased.
"Mhmm." You don't even have the wherewithal to be annoyed. This is the most relief you've felt all day, and you're gonna enjoy it for all its worth. Your eyes aren't closed just yet, but they're relaxed, and you notice the tea still sitting an arms length from your spot. It's your favorite mug. The one Brendon got you on the road trip you took together last summer. "My tea…", you say.
"Yes?"
"It's gonna get cold."
"You want me to get up and give it to you?" he asks. One of his brows quirks in disbelief. You can't see it from behind you.
"Don't you dare fucking move," you threaten, changing your tune. Brendon's thoughts are confirmed. He laughs.
"That's what I thought, babe," he says partly smug. He redoubles his efforts on your abdomen. He can feel you growing more lax, and he wants to keep it that way.
"What kind is it anyway?"
"Raspberry leaf," he says proudly, "with honey."
You melt some more. "How did you know?"
"It's kind of my job to know," he answers.
"As a doctor?"
"As your boyfriend," he says frankly. He plants a kiss behind your ear. "I have an idea, want to hear it?" he begins.
"Please," you smile.
"How about we stay here for a while and in a little bit I order us some take out?"
You nod delightedly.
"And in the mean time, we watch whatever you want on the TV?" he adds, sweetening the deal. Though there's no transaction in it in the slightest.
"Have I told you how madly I'm in love with you?" you say as a response. It's reassuring to see some boldness returning to your words. His care must really be helping you.
"Not today, but I could've guessed." He gives you a squeeze.
"Well, I'm gonna marry you," you say, casual and assured.
Brendon chuckles amorously and says it under his breath so you almost miss it. "Soon."
"What?"
"Nothing."
He continues holding you as you pick your favorite show and he presses play. He half pays attention, caring more to admire the way you settle contentedly into his arms. This finally puts him at ease. He holds you for the rest of the day, even when the food arrives, sating you both and making you comfortably sleepy. Days like this remind him there's no place he'd rather be.
Thinking about Brendon Park and yes I had to add this after the headcanons….
In my head, especially with the bodyguard, intimidating on the outside vibe he gives off he makes me think of the type of man lady Gaga sings about in a lot of her songs. Like that part when her actual bodyguard is singing in Government Hooker because she thought his voice was sexy. Or in G.U.Y. where basically the man is brawny (again, in my head) and mushy on the inside for his (power bottom) woman. Or even Alejandro…Just the vibes that those stir up if that makes sense???
I could also see him amused and in love with a s/o who is kind of dramatically inclined/silly 😚
isa briones is such a good actor because that writers room really put a filipina in front of a karaoke machine and she made The Thespian's Choice to not sing her fucking ass off in that end credits scene. she could've lit that bar up and shown them a real fireworks show with a high note that would've sent Mel's glasses flying to the opposite side of the bar. instead, Isa chose restraint. demureness. she chose the subtle artistry of a slightly off-key shout-sing duet. sure, it stretched a bit of the believability because, again, filipina, karaoke, etc etc but we respect a bold and inspired dramatic choice.
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