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#I’ll safe up eventually…

onlyswan · 28 days

Text

summary: in which for you, jungkook would commit crimes and his mother would peel oranges.

idol!jk x reader | fluff, angst | word count: 9.5k

warnings/content: oc passes out in the shower / jk does something crazy i’m literally insane about this / baby bam cameo 🥺 / stitches >:( / blood draw / mention of speeding / jealous not but rlly jealous oc is pissed owfffff at the nurse who has a crush on jk lmao / jk and his mom loves them to death tho so obv who wins / love is beautiful let’s all cry <3

> in which masterlist!

note: *sitcom sound effect of crowd cheering* I’M BACK 🥰 hope u enjoy the product of my madness during finals season hehehe. and special thanks to my cutieful proofreader rio!! you’re one of my most favorite people i’ve ever met 🥺💕 + my beloveds who came to the rescue when i had medical questions !! i didn’t expect to receive help from soooo many and i’m so freaking grateful i could cri :")

—

“i ordered it the other day. how did it arrive so early?”

jungkook walks back inside the apartment, arms occupied by a stack of boxes that arrived in the mail yesterday.

he arrives at the living room, head tilting to the side in confusion when he realizes that the netflix show he was watching on the television is no longer playing. instead, there is the news channel.

he gasps.

“baby, you’re alive!”

your swollen eyes flicker up to him.

you’re lying on the sofa with your legs lazily dangling on the edge. there’s a toothbrush in your mouth, foam of bubbles between your lips, but your arm barely exerts the energy to make it do its job.

“you were asleep from afternoon to morning. do you know that? you’ve never done that before!” he exclaims, carelessly tossing the boxes on the floor. “i was getting scared!”

you only hum to acknowledge his existence, pushing yourself up from the sofa and unknowingly dodging the hug your boyfriend wanted to greet you with.

he ends up collapsing face first on the empty space you left, hurt and offended.

the bathroom door opens and closes.

he flips over, whining. “yah, we didn’t see each other for a day. didn’t you miss me?!”

still not a single word from you. sleeping that long must not have cured your exhaustion, jungkook surmises. you tend to be glum and cranky when you’re feeling unwell, as is usually the case when you wake up as unrested as before.

he doesn’t always know how to make you feel better, but he always tries anyway.

“our new bedsheets arrived!” he announces from the other side of the bathroom door, making himself loud so that you can hear him despite the shower running. “do you want to unbox them with me?!”

he allows the seconds to pass, but with his hands on his hips, he eventually begins to tap his foot on the floor.

“baby? may i go in?”

he turns the knob, just to be prepared incase the answer is a yes, but it doesn’t turn. a sad pout forms on his face.

huh? why is it locked?

you must genuinely don’t want to be bothered today.

“guess that’s a no.” he mutters to himself before calling out to you. “okay, i’ll wait for you!”

with a crestfallen sigh, he begins to walk back to the living room.

he doesn’t go far, however.

only several steps later, a series of loud crashes is heard from the bathroom and his heart thunders in his chest with a combination of numbing shock and fear.

“____, what was that?! did you fall?!”

he aggressively pounds at the door, extremely desperate this time around. he has no plans on leaving until he knows that you’re safe and sound.

“baby! open this! are you alright…? are you hurt? you’re scaring me. please, answer!”

he pauses, catching his breath as his mind runs a thousand miles per hour.

“____!”

he strikes the door with an open palm one more time, more so to express his frustration that is only growing worse with every tick of the clock. he only ends up hurting himself in the process.

“that’s it! i’m opening the door!”

he frantically whips his head around, racking his brain for the location of the key. there are two copies of it somewhere in the apartment, but in his panicked state, he is unable to pinpoint either of their specific spots. and he can’t fucking afford to waste any more time.

“ah, fuck!” he curses, left with no other choice but to give in to the instinct of breaking down the door with the strength and durability of his body alone.

he would most definitely break his shoulder first before the door.

only after the first try, that much is clear.

and so, with madness inconsiderate of his agony, he resorts to kicking it over and over again.

the repeated loud collisions rattles poor bam from his slumber. not long after, the dog’s barking creates a booming dissonance with his grunts and kicks at the door.

when it finally swings open, the force of his own body sends him stumbling on the bathroom floor, but he doesn’t waste time in bouncing back to his feet.

the twisting of his stomach is instantaneous.

there lies your naked, unconscious figure behind the glass— surrounded by bottles of hair and body products that must have fallen when your hands were searching for something to hold on to.

his voice cracks, breathless.

“baby, no… no, no, no.”

he kneels on the floor, and despite the strong urge to carry you out of there, he tries to calm down. it’s the first rule in every emergency case; professionals reiterate in seminars and news channel segments.

keep calm. keep calm. keep calm.

he won’t be able to forgive himself if he ends up causing more harm than good.

“____, can you hear me?!”

his instinct tells him to inspect every inch of you for any sign of injury, but then his vision becomes too blurry. he curses at the hindrance and forces himself to turn off the showerhead that was left running.

he harshly wipes his face, rushing back to you.

“please, please, please. wake up.” he begs.

he has a feeling that it’s futile. you can’t hear him and he’s wasting his breath. the thing is he doesn’t know what else to do.

“baby…”

he carefully turns your head over, almost relieved because he hasn’t seen blood so far.

almost.

at last, he gets a full view of your face, and he finds blood dripping. this has always been one of his most paralyzing fears— seeing you get hurt. now that it’s become a reality, there’s a part of him that wants to believe this is some kind of twisted dream.

“how- how did this even happen…?” he cries out, his own blood running cold.

for everything that happens after, his body acts on its own. bam is a constant presence in his peripheral, but he is barely in his right mind to acknowledge the presence aside from, “bam, move. daddy might step on you.”

he carries you out of the bathroom, kicking aside the beaten up door. he has made up his mind about bringing you to the hospital, but he can’t bring you like… this.

he lays you down on the bed, all that gentleness switched off in a split second so he can sprint to the walk-in closet. he hastily grabs whatever is on top of your neatly folded stacks of shirts and pants; and then a fresh towel on the way out. the gentleness returns as he pats your face dry, the pure white stained with dark red. he flips the towel and uses the other side to wipe the rest of your body, in a race against time but mindful of treating you like fragile glass.

once that is over, he dresses you in a pair of gray sweatpants, and with some difficulty, an orange t-shirt.

any person with functioning eyes will be able to tell that the shades don’t go together.

if you were conscious, you’d definitely berate him for making you wear this outfit.

but you’re not.

jungkook effortlessly swoops you in his arms— dripping wet hair, his and yours, leaving behind a trail of raindrops from your apartment floor to the cemented parking lot.

—

your body feels like it’s floating.

are you dreaming…?

you must be dreaming.

you hear an uncoordinated symphony of voices, but you can’t comprehend a word. in pursuit of clarity, you force yourself to open your eyes.

the voices grow a little louder. faceless figures hover you; a bright light shines over your face.

your senses must be playing cruel tricks. now it feels like you’re drowning, sinking into the unknown, and your body has succumbed into numbing defeat.

you want to sleep a little more.

you must truly be exhausted. it’s okay.

you’ve fought hard until now. you’ve done enough… has anyone tried in life as much as you did?

just as your eyes flutter shut, you regain sensation of your hand; a soft squeeze and a call of your name.

—

jungkook gently strokes your hair, sighing for the nth time since you got transferred to a private room. he’s relieved that all the scans came back clean so serious head and brain injuries have been ruled out. the doctor also asked him questions and ran some other tests before concluding that electrolyte imbalance caused you to pass out; the culmination of stress and fatigue from work, as well as your strong period, most likely being the main reasons. he didn’t even know about the latter until you stained the white sheets with blood.

it was fucking frightening being in the sidelines as they rushed to check on your vitals and to administer oxygen. even now, it’s unbearable to see you with a needle in your hand and a few stitches above your eyebrow. he already anticipated you not being pleased with having to get stitches specifically either; gasping and sitting up as soon as you heard the word come from his lips post-consciousness. consequently, the dizziness hits you. the doctor wasn’t happy about that.

“this is so annoying. i don’t want a scar.” you whine as you study your face on the camera of jungkook’s phone. “did i have to fall on my prettier side?”

“what are you saying? you’re pretty from any angle.” he interjects. “be careful. the wound might open up.”

you jut out your bottom lip, looking up at him with glassy eyes. the sight instantly tugs at his heartstrings, and he pulls you in for a hug. maybe he’s a little sad that you don’t appear concerned about the fact that you passed out, but god is he relieved to finally hear your voice again.

“ah, i should call the doctor.”

but his face remains buried in your hair.

“they told me to do so.”

“you should-”

“why?!” he abruptly reacts, drawing back. “does anything hurt?”

“chill. you said that they told you to.”

“oh, that’s right.” he sheepishly smiles. he can’t help but to overreact; he hasn’t turned off the alarms in his head. “i’ll go tell the nurse to get her.”

he starts to walk towards the door, but a tug at his shirt holds him back.

you shyly look at him with a scrunch of your nose. “i’m nervous. hug me for five more seconds.”

fuck, he would move heaven and earth to protect you from everything that can cause you harm.

“why would you be nervous? i’m right here.” he scolds you lightheartedly, not hesitating to seize the chance to hug you again. “i love you.”

“i love you more.”

you pull away after five seconds, and he’d be disappointed about you being too true to your words if you didn’t kiss him on the cheek so ardently.

his heart almost jumps out of his chest when you gasp out of nowhere as if you just realized that you left the gas tank open at home. your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

“bam!”

oh, right. your child.

“my brother’s house!” he eases your mind.

you breathe out in relief, the heel of your palm pressing against the left side of your chest where your heart lives. “good… i was worried. he was probably more scared because he didn’t understand what was going on. i feel bad.”

you love bam so much; it makes him so happy. you’re so concerned about him even when you’re the one on the hospital bed. you make pretty good parents, huh?

“that’s right. he was worried about you, too. that’s why you need to recover quickly so he won’t be sad!”

—

the doctor kindly asked jungkook to give the two of you some time alone, so he’s been idly sitting at the lobby after buying a bottle of water. he’s pretty much used to visiting the hospital for routine checkups considering the nature of his job, but it always feels strange to be here for the other different purposes of the place.

is there any other building sadder than this?

if you heard him utter this question, he could easily predict what you’d say: but is there any other building with more love?

if he tries hard enough, he could listen to your voice and paint you in his mind.

you see love in every place that you step foot into.

his curious eyes continue to wander around. he spots people carrying flowers, baskets, and containers of food. there’s also a teenage boy in his high school uniform, carrying a teddy bear larger than him.

not that he wants you to stay longer, but if you have to, he writes down a mental note to bring one of your favorite plushies.

he eventually gets tired; considers scrolling on his phone again, but he decides against it when his gaze lands on a little boy sleeping soundly on his mother’s lap. suddenly, he is reminded of his childhood before he moved to seoul.

how simple life can be when you’re innocently sleeping on your mother’s lap, trusting that everything will be alright.

“ah, i miss my mom…” he utters absentmindedly. “i miss my mom so much. i should call her.”

his reminiscing is interrupted when a wheelchair rolls by infront of him. it is leisurely being pushed by an old man who wants to bring his wife outside for some fresh air.

in a parallel universe somewhere, jungkook can imagine them as you and him.

he sits up straight, looking back at the clock on the wall.

how long has it been? he wants to be by your side again.

—

“jungkook!” your face lights up as soon as your boyfriend steps into the room. “what took you so long?”

“i know. sorry, baby. i got a little distracted outside.”

“i’ve been waiting.” you pout. “why? were people bothering you?”

“not at all. don’t worry.”

you pat the empty space beside you. “here.”

“i think the bed is meant for only one person- damn, okay, okay-”

he swiftly gives in upon seeing the hurt on your face, occupying the space you reserved for him. “i love you. don’t be sad.”

you’re aching too much to wait for him to get settled. you wrap your arms around his waist like you’re a magnet attracted to steel, clinging to him for comfort.

if you’re being honest, you don’t know how you feel about being in this situation. overwhelmed? maybe a tiny bit relieved. in the past, it didn’t matter whether you were sick or not. you needed to work or else it was guaranteed that you wouldn’t survive. life is easier now. you have the luxury to use this as a reason to take a break. you have someone who takes care of you as naturally as he breathes.

“how was the doctor?”

“she’s nice… she just asked me about the things i remember before i passed out. then about my work, diet, sleeping schedule… stuff like that.”

you pull away a little, just enough so you can see each other’s face. you squint at him suspiciously. “did you have to get an expensive room?”

he chuckles. “how did you know? they didn’t tell you that, did they?”

“i literally have the perfect view of the fountain from here!” you point at the large window behind you. “i just passed out. i would’ve been fine downstairs.”

“don’t say it like that. it could’ve been so much worse.” he says with knitted eyebrows, palm cupping the back of your head and caressing softly.

he heaves a sigh.

“i was so scared that you injured your head. seriously, i thought i’d go insane if i lost you! i went past the speed limit driving you here!”

the distress he was under is apparent. you can’t help but to be racked with the guilt. you always do this, making him worry himself to death. you don’t usually do it purpose, and that only makes you feel shittier.

“you’re right. i’m sorry.”

“well, i…” he sighs. “it’s okay. i know you didn’t want this either. it’s not your fault.”

you press your lips into a thin line. “it kind of is.”

your lost eyes meet, and a connection is established like it’s a constellation sending a secret message. your heart flutters when he giggles, dimples and starry eyes and crinkled corners.

“stop it. it’s impossible to scold you when you’re so cute and self-aware.”

“then don’t scold me.” you sniffle sadly to kindle pity in him. “i’ve had enough of it from the doctor.”

your brain still works well enough to help you escape from trouble. that’s a good sign, right?

“my poor baby.” he coos, cradling your cheeks.

his hands are warm. you put yours over them; a wordless signal telling him you don’t want him to go away.

“let’s not get hurt again, please. we need to stay healthy and take good care of ourselves so this won’t happen again, alright?”

you nod in obedience. your eyes are fixed on him but you’re not certain if you’re registering what he’s telling you in your pitiful, shaken brain.

“the hospital already did me many favors. if we go back, i might have to build them another fountain as a gift.”

and knowing jungkook, with his golden heart and his black card, jokes become half-meant.

“what do they need that for?!”

he bursts out laughing, yet again, after you chide at him for his ridiculous and unnecessary expenses.

“nothing, i’m just grateful! i was really so scared but i’m relieved now thanks to them. i can’t remember the last time i felt that way.”

“you’re not scared of a lot of things.” you point out.

“that’s right.” he agrees. “only you scare me these days.”

you grimace. “am i scary?”

“you are, sometimes.” he laughs, squishing your cheeks together. “but i mean the things that could hurt you.”

as if on cue, your stomach grumbles and bellows like a monster stuck in an empty cave. your eyes grow twice its size in bewilderment, which then morphs into embarrassment.

“my stomach hurts.” you say quietly.

your nostrils flare as jungkook miserably fails to hold back his laughter. one of his hands leave your face, rubbing your tummy over the thin hospital gown.

“oh no, what are we going to do? where does it hurt? here?” he pouts. “should we go feed you now to make it go away?”

“what is wrong with you?” you slap his shoulder in annoyance. “i’m not a baby!”

“yah, be careful!” he yells, wincing as if he is the one in pain. “be gentle with the one with the iv!”

—

“you know one good thing that came out of this?” you gush out of nowhere.

you’re mixing up the ingredients of your bibimbap bowl with a spoon and a pair of chopsticks.

jungkook noisily drinks the final sips of his banana milk. afterwards, he makes a game out of shooting the box in the trash bin.

“what could that be?” he asks, doubtful.

he sits on the chair beside your bed. you greet him with a delighted grin, licking your thumb stained with gochujang.

“you proved your love. you committed a crime for me.”

he gasps to humor you, body freezing as if he’s currently processing the newly-learned information in his brain.

“oh? you’re right- i did! and you know what? i’d do it again!”

with a mouthful of rice, you shake your head in disagreement furiously. “you’re cute. but that’s the first and last.”

“but how are you sure that it’s the first?” he raises an eyebrow quizically.

silly enough, you envy him for being able to do so.

you hum in thought. “i guess you’ve stolen a few things for me, too.”

“few? you mean a loooot?”

“you’re the one who brings home food and random things.” you roll your eyes. “i never ask you to.”

“you told me you wanted the service bell!”

you feel yourself become flushed with sheepishness. he’s not lying. you’ve always found the object fascinating as a child, so you couldn’t help but to tell him to sneakily take one home after filming a competitive run bts episode.

did you have a silly phase where you and jungkook used it to summon each other just to laugh together about it?

perhaps.

“well, you’re rich. you could’ve bought me one instead.”

“but it was already there.” he reasons with a wide grin, gesturing infront of him. “i wanted to give it to my lover right away.”

his lover?

jungkook has successfully replaced your frown with an enamored smile.

“i made your heart flutter just now, didn’t i?”

a hospital stay has never felt this comfortable— not terrifying. you have stitches on your face and to add to that, this hospital gown feels super unflattering. somehow, your boyfriend’s loving gaze remains steady and you are melting.

“shut up,” you mutter, flustered, handing him the pair of chopsticks. “please eat with me. i can’t finish this on my own.”

—

“why would you let them put the needle in my dominant hand?”

you stomp your feet on the ground as jungkook squeezes some toothpaste onto a newly-bought toothbrush.

“i’m sorry! i was too stressed out so i just pointed! i think i got confused with- with left and right.”

you didn’t realize this while you were eating; that you were unconsciously holding the spoon with your non-dominant hand because the other felt uncomfortable. maybe because it was a simple task, scooping food and bringing it to your mouth. brushing your teeth, on the other hand… can be quite an arm workout.

“eeeee!”

he shows his complete set of teeth, urging you to do the same. you stare at him blankly.

“eeeee!” he repeats with heightened enthusiasm.

left with no other choice— you copy his awkward smile.

“there we go!” he praises you with an over-enthusiastic beam.

he carries on to brush your teeth, gingerly holding your chin to keep you steady as he does his job.

this is the first time jungkook is doing this for you. today is definitely not one of your finest moments. it feels a bit silly to be in this situation, and you feel bad for putting your boyfriend in this position in the first place. you can see that he’s trying his best—unnecessarily focused—and that he loves you, but you just hate giving him a hard time.

with a soft smile, he wipes the bubbles that overflowed past your lips.

“okay, spit.”

you spit out more of the bubbles on the sink. you assume that he’s finished, except he’s making another vowel sound for you to mimic the mouth shape of.

“ahhhh-”

“this is embarrassing!”

“baby, really? this is where you draw the line?” he playfully squeezes your cheeks together. “it’s almost over! ahhhh!”

and you let him do this thing, but not without a glare that is masking the embarrassing truth: you might be enjoying this more than you care to admit.

“see? was that so bad?”

as he tenderly pats your face dry in the aftermath, he says: “i’m sorry. bear with it a little more. let me take care of you so you’ll be healthy again.” and you feel every ounce of his sincerity pierce through the barriers surrounding your soul.

“stop it…” your voice suddenly comes out broken.

you want to put all the blame on your period for the tears that are now brimming your eyes, but jungkook is your biggest weakness of all and that is an explanation enough.

“why are you crying?” he panics. “what did i say?”

“it’s your fault.”

you break down into loud sobs, incapable of even keeping your eyes open. you never understood why we close our eyes when we cry, but right now, you know that you can’t bear to witness his reaction.

“you’re so sweet.”

the towel that was wiping the water from your mouth is now drying the tears from your stained cheeks.

“am i making you sad?”

you furiously shake your head. how could he say such a thing? he is the greatest joy of your life.

“no?”

“no!”

“okay, come here then.”

he wraps his arms around your trembling figure, caging you in the solace of his entire existence. a sense of calmness washes over your system, especially as he runs his hand across your back in gentle strokes. this isn’t his goal though, it seems. you hear none of his quiet shushes beseeching you to stop breaking his heart. he hopes you let go of everything that has been weighing on you, but he has already eased all your pains by loving you.

“ugh, i probably look horrible right now.” you force a chuckle to lighten up the mood, wiping your face with the back of your free hand. “i feel gross.”

“that’s not true.” he gazes at you fondly, brushing your hair with his fingers. “it’s actually infuriating how you look so beautiful still.”

“i know. i’m nice to look at; that’s why you tolerate my attitude.” you conclude in jest.

“yeah, sometimes.” he rides on the joke.

“what…?”

“i’m joking!” he rushes to take it back with a laugh. “of course i’m joking!”

you pout. “are you really?”

“oh, come onnnn.”

he coaxes you with a kiss on the lips— a good morning kiss long overdue. you’ve been spoiled rotten with affection; he knows you need more than one. he interrupts himself several times to kiss you.

“you know i’ll love you until our hair turns white and our skin all wrinkly.”

to be brutally honest, you’re not fond of imagining that far ahead. it’s daunting. you doubt your capability to age with grace. you’re horrified by the thought of having the majority of your life behind you. nostalgia has always been more bitter than sweet. but maybe this memory could be the sweetest of all, if jungkook truly stays by your side until then. in a cottage at the countryside like he said once, or a cabin by the ocean.

you’re both so young; so arrogant when it comes to making promises that are a shot in the dark. so fucking in love.

“me too.” you half-smile, scrunching your nose— a telltale sign of your joy. “now, get out. i really need to pee.”

his face becomes drained of blood. “but you’re st-”

“i won’t lock the door this time.” you cup his cheek, looking at his eyes reassuringly. “we don’t need property damage added to the bill.”

—

“did you not hurt yourself?”

“me?”

“you broke down the door. that’s not easy to do.”

you and jungkook make the best out of a bad deal. you’re squeezed together on the bed, browsing through television channels that seem to never end.

“it was easy because you were on the other side of it.”

that is what he claims confidently, but you are not fully convinced.

“wow, why do they have more channels than we do at home?”

“you didn’t answer my question.” you pout. “did you hurt yourself?”

“i didn’t hurt myself. i’m totally okay. i promise.”

he maintains eye-contact as he speaks. given the assurance, your tight chest unrestricts. jungkook is not a good liar. it’s a trait that causes him inconvenience every now and then, but it helps you to sleep soundly at night.

“should we just watch funny animal videos on youtube?”

“i guess that’s fine.”

it doesn’t show but you feel excitement run in your veins aside from the iv fluids that feel peculiarly cold.

from under your cheek, his chest vibrates with a giggle. “okay, hold on.”

as he pulls up the application, you tangle your legs together beneath the thin blanket. you hear the rapid tap tap tap of the remote control navigating the keypad while he types on the search bar, but your attention is someplace else. you’ve found the crook of his neck to sneak into, lazily kissing every inch of his exposed skin. your lips eventually trail up to his jaw. he smells so nice. you’re addicted.

“baby, someone can enter any minute.”

“i’m not doing anything.” you mumble.

you smile against his lips when he gives you a kiss as sweet as honey anyway.

“i’m curious about another thing.”

“what’s that?”

“did you cry?”

he comes to a still. the answer to that question requires a little time and thought.

“almost…”

“why almost?”

“no time. i had to bring you here, of course.” he replies.

you huff a laugh, exhaling a twinge of melancholia. “don’t cry.”

“i won’t. i’m happy now because you’re awake and fighting with me.”

“ow-”

your cry of pain is silenced when he squeezes you in an embrace that makes it nearly impossible to breathe.

“red panda!”

a squeal assaults both of your hearing as soon as your eyes land on the wide screen infront of the bed.

“i want one so fucking bad.”

the enunciated curse makes your boyfriend crack up in amusement. “that much?!”

—

jungkook opens his eyes to a nurse lightly nudging him awake.

“i’m sorry, i had to wake you up. i need to check vitals and draw blood.”

“shit, i’m sorry.” he panics.

his brain is foggy from the nap, but he still carefully sits up on the bed, wary of the iv line connected to your hand.

“i… was tired and i fell asleep.”

“it’s no problem; don’t worry.”

she smiles at him, but he doesn’t see it.

“you look adorable sleeping.”

“ah, really?” he awkwardly responds, absentminded. “it’s embarrassing.”

he stands on your side, about to disturb your peaceful rest much as it makes his heart ache with guilt, but you’re already stirring due to the absence of his warmth.

your heavy eyelids blink at the nurse in curiosity. “oh… do you need my blood?”

“yes, but i’ll take your blood pressure and temperature first.”

“okay,” you mumble, offering your arm. “it might be higher now because i’m scared.”

she chuckles at your joke. jungkook tries to share an endeared look with her and non-verbally communicate adorable, right?

“i promise i’ll be quick. although we definitely want it to be higher than earlier’s.”

you wince as the cuff around your upper arm goes as tight as it could, and you sigh at the same time that it begins to deflate.

“good, good, good,” she chants with a mumble. “it’s back in the normal range again…”

she brings out a digital thermometer from her pocket.

“you know where this goes.”

she hands it over to you, and you awkwardly place it in your armpit, holding it in place. it’s quiet as you wait for the device to make the beeping sound, except for her pen creating friction with your chart as she takes down notes.

“how’s your stitches? do you feel any discomfort?”

“it’s fine. thank you.”

not long after, you hear the beep. you return the thermometer to her, but not before taking a peak at the numbers displayed on the tiny screen. 36.8°C. you think you’ll live.

“i’ll draw your blood now.”

the nurse’s voice is sweet and reassuring, but it doesn’t quite ease the nervousness evident on your expression. your pupils shake as you watch her disinfect the area, and then comes out the long needle.

another one, jungkook laments inside.

“____, i’m right here.”

you crane your head, whimpering out his name. “jungkook,”

“it will be just a pinch. i’m inserting the needle now, alright?”

you take a sharp inhale.

if only he could switch positions with you, he would do it in a heartbeat. unfortunately, all he can do is caress your hair and whisper that it will be over soon.

“it hurts.” your damp eyelashes flutter, face twisting in discomfort. “i don’t like it.”

really, just a pinch? obviously a lie.

“hey, baby. look at the tv.”

the autoplay was left turned on after you fell asleep together. inside the screen is a puppy rolling around a snow-covered lawn. the wagging of its tail, the wide smile, and the pupils as big as boba balls: they all scream the happiness of an innocent.

“it’s so cute… i miss bam already. can we go to a dog park again?”

“of course!”

that promise sparks your smile. you turn to your side, and jungkook also catches a glimpse of the cotton taped to where you were poked.

“all done. you can go back to resting.”

“thank you. will you need to take blood again?” you inquire at the nurse.

“hm, probably. it depends on the doctor based on the results we get from this one.”

“can’t you just do it while i’m asleep? or is that not allowed?”

“baby…” jungkook snorts, hiding his face behind the palm of his hands.

the nurse laughs at your desperate suggestion. “that is honestly not a rare request, but the thing is… you might wake up in the middle of it and injure yourself. we can’t do that.”

“that won’t be a problem!” you passionately argue your case. “i’m a deep sleeper. seriously!”

“ah, thank you so much for your hard work!”jungkook intervenes, bowing to the nurse out of respect and gratitude. “i’m sure you’re busy. i will handle this!”

“oh yes, yes- thank you. please don’t forget the medicine for after dinner.”

“i won’t!”

“if you need anything, you know where to find me again.”

“yes,” he nods, chuckling. “thank you.”

“then i should leave…? but you’ll see me again later! bye!”

the door shuts, and his attention lands on your unimpressed form: a blank stare and arms folded infront of your chest.

uh-oh.

“did she seriously wink while saying that?”

“what?” he freezes, genuinely clueless. “i don’t know. i didn’t see anything. i was looking at you.”

“i’m right here- i’m the patient. why would you need anything from her? huh? why is she so excited to see you again?” you ramble angrily.

“right?!”

he climbs on the bed, reclaiming his spot next to you.

“that was weird.”

“what if she made it hurt on purpose? that…” you frown, glancing at your arm. “that didn’t really feel like a pinch to me.”

“ey, calm down. she wouldn’t.” he makes a doubtful face, laughing off the accusation. “…i don’t think so?”

you blink, exhaling in disbelief. “are you taking her side now?”

“of course not! baby, i’m just saying… a professional won’t do that.”

“why not? she’s still human. humans do stupid things when they like someone. she obviously likes you.”

“and so what?”

he grins with a spark of mischief, leaving an inch of a distance between your lips.

“i’m obviously yours.”

but you turn your cheek and your eyes fall on your lap, a pout highlighting your downcast mood.

“it’s so annoying.”

the regret sinks in after. he should’ve stuck to the golden rule: agree with everything that you say. there’s no point in having an argument no one will win. does it matter who’s right and wrong if each other’s sadness is contagious in addition to their own? your gut has almost always been right, and he’s old enough to be conscious of not allowing a stranger to put a dent on your relationship.

“are you serious? are you uncomfortable?” he tilts his head to try and get a better look at your face. “should i request for a different nurse?”

it’s quiet for a beat and he feels inclined to fill the silence with whatever enters his mind.

“i love you.”

almost immediately, your features soften and he knows your heart is also melting. the two of you bite the inside of your cheeks to hide a smile.

“no, there’s no need for that.”

but he still can’t help but to be worried. your peace of mind is his top priority. he doesn’t want you to be more stressed out, especially by things that he has the power to solve.

“are you sure?”

“she pissed me off. i need to piss her off too.”

of course, his ever stubborn and competitive lover. he sits up properly, amused and curious.

“and how will you do that?”

“i don’t know,” you nonchalantly shrug. “i’ll come up with something.”

—

“come up with what?”

to your surprise, a voice you haven’t heard in weeks echoes from the door.

“mom…?”

you’re stunned after only hearing yourself react to jungkook’s mother’s unexpected entrance. your head whips to his direction; your eyes wordlessly interrogating him.

“i need to go to work so i called her to watch over you.” he explains.

“why would you do that?” you argue with him as quietly as possible, lips barely moving as you try to hide your face from your mother-in-law. again, not one of your finest moments. “you didn’t have to. i can take care of myself.”

“but you don’t have to because you have us.”

jungkook marks the conversation finished with a kiss pressed to your temple, leaving you dumbfounded. he jumps off the bed and for a split second, you make eye-contact with his mother before he towered over her for a quick hug.

her kind smile is embroidered in your memory; a memory that wraps your heart in a type of warmth only a mother can provide.

“mom! i’m sorry. i really, really, really need to leave now. but! i’ll try to come back early so you can go home early too.”

“aigoo, stop stressing yourself out.”

jungkook receives a slap on the back, somehow more loving can scolding.

“i can stay the night so do what you need to do. you don’t have to worry.”

“it’s not only because i’m worried!”

she sassily puts a hand over her waist. it takes everything in you not to laugh out loud.

“then what else?”

“mom! what else?” he cheekily smiles. “of course i’ll miss ____ too much.”

did your boyfriend just…? to his mother? your jaw becomes slack from the shame.

“i missed ____ too!” she contests. “go to work and give us our alone time.”

you shyly smile when she transfers her attention from her son to you.

“hello, my baby. are you hungry?”

—

“does my son feed you well?”

“he does! but it’s funny- other mothers ask the opposite. are you feeding my son well? do you make sure he’s comfortable?”

you think out loud, transfixed on how she peels oranges with ease. your hands would always be stained by the juices, (and eyes red and teary from accidental splashes) (it’s too embarrassing to even think about) but hers are still magically clean.

“is that so?”

you graciously accept the slice she feeds you. she laughs when your face lights up like a christmas tree one more time. it’s way sweeter than you anticipated. you can’t get over how delicious it is.

“mhmm!”

perhaps you relied too much on dramas when it came to your expectations of what a relationship with your in-laws would look like. you imagined yourself running around like a dog trying to prove yourself worthy of their son, yet for some reason, it looks like they adore you for simply existing. it makes you feel extremely grateful, but you don’t understand.

“mom, i have a question… i know it’s probably too late to ask this now, but…”

“what could that be?”

“are you really not against me and jungkook living together?” you swallow your fear of the possibility of an unpleasant truth. “are you not… worried… that i’m receiving too much from him?”

because you would understand the apprehension. as a parent, one’s main concern would be their child. to outside eyes, it’s easy to come to the conclusion that jungkook is being taken advantage of and he’d be better off dating someone with the same status. sometimes you wish you were that someone too.

she utters your name sadly.

“he receives happiness and love from you. those are the most valuable things you could give to a person.”

she caresses your hair like she wants to erase the anxiety poisoning your mind.

“my dear, how come you’re worried about that until now? haven’t we told you? you’re part of the family. forget about my sister! i don’t welcome her negativity in our house!”

“living together is different. it’s a big deal. it normally happens in a relationship after…” the following words feel foreign in your mouth; they come out quieter than the rest of your sentence. “getting married.”

“then tell me. why did you agree to live with him?”

because you’re selfish. because you want more time that you can have him all to yourself. because you want to be accessible— the first person he runs to when he’s seeking comfort and stability. because you want goodnight and good morning kisses. because you were afraid of the risks but you’ve grown addicted to the thrill of love.

“he said… no matter how hard i push him away, he will stay within my reach.”

you hear your own shaky breathing. that moment— it’s still burned into your memory. you’re still holding on to it. it’s a promise he is yet to break and you pray that he never, ever does.

“i don’t want to push him away. i want to be within his reach too.”

you’re two people loving each other with everything within your means. after the endless pains and the deafening noise, you like to think that’s what makes this relationship worth fighting for.

“does my opinion still matter knowing that? will you let me stop you?”

“no, i won’t. i’d make you change your mind.”

if you had a machine connected to you, she would see how your heart rate has gone off the charts. but you’re known to say whatever’s on your mind and that, much to your dismay, isn’t switched off despite sitting infront of the woman who birthed and raised the love of your life.

you sniffle, pursing your lips nervously. “but i feel like there might be a right answer to that one.”

what you didn’t expect was her to laugh until her belly hurts; placing a hand over her mouth in an effort to calm herself down and keep grace.

“mom! stop, i’m so embarrassed!”

“no, ____, don’t get me wrong!”

she is teary-eyed as she gathers herself together.

“the more time i spend with you, the more i realize why jungkook loves you so much. i’ve seen him show incredible commitment twice. do you know that? first, when he went to seoul to become a singer. second, when he told us he got an apartment because he wants to be with you… of course, as his mother, i’ll admit that he’s young when he made those decisions, but he always proves to me that he’s smart and responsible.”

the urge to cry returns and strengthens as she speaks. you feel your eyelashes become damp with unshed tears. you don’t know how to act. you fiddle with your fingers. you stare at the strings and peels of the oranges you can still taste.

“i believe we both know jungkook’s personality well. he wouldn’t have let me stop him either. i’m happy to know that you’ll fight for him too.”

“thank you…”

“tsk, tsk, tsk- what is there to cry about? jungkook will get angry at me if he discovers that i made you cry.”

she wipes away your tears; however, the unmistakable scent of oranges that has clung to her hands and the affection in her tone bring forth a waterfall.

“seeing this makes me sadder.” she laments, referring to the stitches on your face.

“me too,” you babble in the midst of quiet sobs. “it makes me sad. it’s so ugly.”

—

you can’t remember the last time you felt this alone. perhaps it’s the effect of staying in an unfamiliar building of complete strangers. without your mobile phone, may you add. you managed to persuade jungkook’s mother to leave an hour ago because you didn’t want her to sleep on the uncomfortable couch.

the lights are turned off except for the lamp beside your bed, and with the television muted, you could hear a hairpin drop.

you’re alone and you can do whatever you want.

you dragged the visitor’s chair infront of the window to admire the garden like it’s a painting in motion. you watched people converse, stroll, and drink coffee. you watched them run for shelter when the clouds became too heavy and the sky began to fall. oh, so that’s why you couldn’t see the stars.

at this moment, there’s nothing left to amuse yourself with but the trembling of the leaves and the raindrops forming temporary rings when they fall in the water fountain.

your senses crave for more. you reach over and crack open the window, just enough to allow the sound of the rain and the scent of it permeating the earth to enter your room.

“this is kind of peaceful.” you whisper, amazed by the new lightness carried by your heart.

you close your eyes and you breathe in the petrichor deeply. you want nature in your lungs as a reminder that you’re alive. you welcome the cold wind kissing your face. you can feel your hair touching your neck. you always do, but for once, you’re choosing to acknowledge it. your thumb slowly brushes across the palm of your hand, perceiving the texture of your skin, the softness, and the lines. and your feet, they’re in the clouds, the fluffy slippers jungkook’s mother bought outside because she knows they’re your favorite to wear.

you’ve loved and despised this body for a million different reasons. your mind and heart have accepted defeat countless times, but your body wakes up to every brand new day without fail. your body implores you to live. did it finally give up on you today?

“baby!”

you look behind to search for the source of the sound.

you get your answer from the kiss planted on your lips.

you only saw his face for a split second, but even if you had your eyes closed, you’d know it has to be jungkook kissing you.

you can smell him. you’ve memorized the way the shape of his lips fits with yours.

oh, the sounds of his kisses too. you like to call them the butterfly call because they make butterflies appear in your stomach.

you could trace the scar on his cheek with your finger if you want to.

god, what a privilege it is to experience life in this vessel.

a knock on the door forces you to part too early. the same nurse from earlier enters and you internally scream all the curse words in your dictionary. jungkook acknowledges her with a bow and a quick ‘hello’ before squatting down infront of you.

“i committed another crime for you today.”

“huh?”

your wide, confused eyes take a glimpse at the nurse who is doing something with the controls of your iv line.

hahaha… she knows he’s not serious, right?

“what did you do?”

his smile is so big that his eyes have turned into little crescent moons. you’d make a guess but there is an infinite amount of things jungkook could possibly be this excited about.

…apparently, one of them would be strawberry cake.

you gape at the transparent box he was hiding behind his back all along.

“did you steal somebody’s birthday cake?!”

“it’s a producer’s birthday and he received lots of cakes, so he told me i can take one home.”

“how is it stealing if he allowed you to take it?”

he tosses his backpack on the couch as he sets down the box on the table. he rummages through the bag his mother left behind, successfully bringing out a spoon. meanwhile, you get your blood pressure taken again.

as he opens the box, he sends a smirk your way.

“no. i hid the strawberry cake because there’s so many who wanted to eat it.”

“are you crazy?!”

the nurse clicks her tongue. “don’t talk and stay still, please.”

“oh,” your hand flies to your mouth on instinct. “i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry.” jungkook also apologizes.

you and your boyfriend secretly share a look, exchanging a smile that is stifled laughter inside. your lips remain zipped as the nurse restarts the process of taking your blood pressure. on the other hand, jungkook eats a spoonful of cake, teasingly wiggling his eyebrows at you. you roll your eyes and he tries harder to laugh without a sound.

seconds later, he grumbles about the room being too warm. he wipes the beads of sweat on his forehead using the back of his hand, and he does the worst thing he could possibly do at this moment. he reaches for his back, pulling his sweater over his head. naturally, his inner shirt rides up and allows wandering eyes a peak at his glorious toned abdomen.

passed out in the shower. busted your eyebrow open. front-row seat for a woman flirting and ogling at your boyfriend.

how fucking great.

“hello? i think it’s done.” you snap.

“a-ah, yes.”

you hear her swallow as she removes the cuff from your arm. she may be wearing a mask but she’s hot and red all the way to her ears. you’ve only read about it in books. you didn’t even believe this could happen in real life until now.

“i will check your temperature too.”

“go on.”

you repeat the same process from hours earlier, drumming your fingers on your thigh as you wait for the beep.

“yah, why is the window open? you’ll catch a cold.”

jungkook, yet again, steals the attention of every person in the room when he rises to his feet. his shadow casts over you as he closes the window.

“i wanted to smell the rain.”

“is the room getting too stuffy for you?”

you shrug. “i just wanted to smell the rain.”

you feel the nurse’s stare. you offer her a smile and her nameplate briefly gets caught by your vision. kang ji-woo.

“ji-woo; that’s a pretty name.” you pay her a sincere compliment. “it’s healing, don’t you think?”

“yes? uh-uhm, y-yes…” she replies, unsure and confused by the sudden small talk. “actually, it’s been linked to a reduction in stress and anxiety levels.”

“thank you! babe, did you hear that?”

“uhuh, think about my stress and anxiety levels.” he leans against the window with his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at you.

so now he’s flexing his arm muscles. cool, cool, cool. you know he’s not doing it on purpose and his entire existence is just naturally hot and it’s infuriating.

“i’ve been worried sick about you all day.”

his statement makes you frown for a new reason. at the same moment, the thermometer beeps.

“could you please tell him that i’m fine?”

“37.3, uhhh- that’s slightly above normal. how do you feel? does your head hurt? are you cold?”

“i feel fine though?”

“okay. please take a lot of rest and stay warm…” her gaze lingers at jungkook who is blocking the window. “keep the window closed. hopefully it won’t be higher when i check again later.”

seriously?! you could cry. you want to go home where it’s comfortable. where it’s only you and jungkook and bam.

but you bet somebody would be happy if you had to stay longer.

“i’ll look after ____.” your boyfriend sighs, pulling out a jacket from his backpack.

“you shouldn’t have kissed me. what if you get sick?”

your blatantness causes the nurse to pause in updating your chart. she awkwardly clears her throat. “yeah… that… that isn’t currently advisable.”

“i’m sorry. i’ll control myself.”

you earn a glare from jungkook, then he fakes a smile which you gladly return.

“before you go, may i request for a new blanket? sorry, i spilled something earlier.”

“sure thing! i’ll come back with that right away.”

—

“she seemed happy to leave.” jungkook remarks. “i can’t tell if you were actually being nice or being passive aggressive.”

you smile innocently, taking a bite off the strawberry you stole from the top of the cake. “i’m a fucking angel.”

damn it, why is he suddenly turned on?

were you serious about the no kiss rule?

“would you rather i be the type to pull their hair?”

he shakes his head with a laugh. “but you did slap someone once.”

“you want to see me that furious again?”

“never in my wildest dreams.”

he kisses the top of your head, producing an exaggerated ‘mmmwah!’ sound that makes you giggle happily.

“here, have some more cake.”

he offers you a spoonful of cake.

no, it’s bigger.

as a matter of fact, the piece could probably pass off as a cupcake.

you gawk at it as if you’re figuring out the logistics of putting it in your mouth. his heart does a flip when you tilt your head and do your best to take in the whole thing. however, in the middle of it, you decide that you can’t, and you end up biting it off a little more than halfway.

oh my god, he loves you. he loves you. you’re so fucking cute.

your cheeks are full as you struggle to chew. you cover your mouth with your hand but they don’t touch. you’re so elegant in your ways and sometimes he wonders how you’re still attracted to him after he acts stupid.

also, plain white nails? that’s new. you always want colors.

“your nails look pretty.”

he is so focused on you that he fails to take notice of another presence occupying the room.

“your mom did them for me.”

“i figured. she wants to do mother-daughter things with you.”

the short break of silence speaks volumes. you look at him, blinking with eyes hinting at a type of joy you’re lost on how to express.

“did you choose white?”

“no. we were watching a drama and it was the couple’s wedding.”

oh, that makes total sense.

“let me guess,” he trails off with a half-embarrassed, half-entertained smile. “she asked when we will get married?”

“why would she ask me that? how would i know?” you scoff.

his heart starts at a thousand miles per hour. fuck, are you hinting at him? are you messing with his feelings again? with you, he always needs to remind himself to be rational.

“i need more time to prove to you that i’m husband material.”

“what? stop it. i don’t care. i don’t need a ring.”

your unpredictableness pushes him to the edge of his seat.

“don’t pressure yourself. you already treat me way better than most husbands do their wives.”

the pride painted on your face is unmistakable. he feels his heart swelling in his chest. has he been doing a better job than he originally thought? after what happened today, he was terrified that he hasn’t been paying enough attention to you.

“i’m so happy with what we have.”

you offer him a delicate smile before eating the rest of the cake that was left on the spoon. he swears there’s a glowing halo above your head.

could your temperature have magically dropped in the past five minutes? would you kill him if he kissed you right now?

“is there anything else i could assist you with?”

and then he is rudely snapped out of his hopeless adoration and daydreaming.

“that’s all! thank you for your hard work!” you chirp.

he turns to the nurse with a lovesick grin.

“please come to our wedding.”

the unforeseen wedding invitation earns him a slap on the chest. he clutches the affected area, wincing in pain.

he hears you mutter. “don’t invite strangers to our wedding.”

the irritated glare he predicted to face isn’t there. rather, you’re wearing the flustered smile he only sees when he knows that he did something to make you fall for him all over again.

before ji-woo left, she tried to subtly reject the invitation by jokingly saying that she’d die to go, but most probably, she’d have to work that day. you know… being an overworked hospital employee and all. you caught her glancing at you with bitterness failed to be guised as indifference. you get it. you’d hate it if another person was in your place. frankly speaking, you could be miles pettier.

your boyfriend wipes the corner of your lips, thoughtless as he licks off the cake frosting from his thumb.

damn it, you wish she was also here for that.

“you haven’t stopped smiling.”

“you love me and you never let me forget that.”

you give an answer despite the lack of a question mark.

you just made his world stop spinning on its axis and you’re not even aware.

jungkook knows the heavenly feeling of knowing that he is loved, but he has never deeply considered the joy and relief when the person he loves believes that he loves them.

“i’m so lucky. i love you.”

you push yourself up to plant a kiss on his forehead. it’s a rarity he treasures and keeps.

“i love you too.”

he cries infront of you.

almost.

he excuses himself to the bathroom and cries in there a little.

you’re so easy to love— that’s why it makes him want to do difficult things for you. like commit more crimes?

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook au #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

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vroomvro0mferrari · 2 months

Text

LN4 | Panic at the Disco

Summary: When you call your brother to pick you up from the club, it's his best friend who answers.

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader

WC: 1.3K

Warnings: Maybe slight panic attack, insinuated sexual harassment/assault

Part 2

Masterlist

You rush through the club in a hurry, bumping into God knows how many people as you search for the exit. The hot, stuffy air makes it even more difficult to breathe as you keep pushing through the crowd. You can feel the wetness of your tears run down your cheeks as you reach the exit, nearly running into the bouncer checking IDs outside. You stand close to him as you wipe your cheeks and sniffle, trying to calm yourself down while you rummage through your purse in search of your phone. Taking a deep breath, you call your brother.

You wait impatiently as the phone rings. He doesn’t answer, so you call again. And again. Eventually, after three tries, the phone is picked up.

“Hello? Max?” You say rushedly.

You hear some noise on the other side. In your frenzy, you don’t realise it’s not your brother, not from the mere grumpy hello the phone is answered with.

“Can you come pick me up? Please?” The sheer panic you’re experiencing is clear in your voice. Lando can even hear your sniffling through the phone as you wipe your hand under your nose.

“Y/N? Is that you? Are you crying?” He asks, much more awake now as he sits up from his position on the couch.

“Who’s this? Lando?” You realise now that you hear him speak; it's your brother’s best friend – to your frustration.

“Yes”

“Why are you answering my brother’s phone?” You ask annoyed.

“We were just hanging out, he fell asleep and-”

“You know what – it doesn’t matter. Can you tell him to come pick me up please?”

“Where are you?”

“I’m not sure, uhm, it’s called Palace, I think.” You sniffle, “You’ll send him to get me?” You ask hopefully.

“I’ll come get you myself. I’m just putting my shoes on, I’ll be there in a bit.” He says, putting your brother’s phone on speaker mode and stepping into his shoes.

“Lando you don’t have to come, just tell Max to come pick me up, please. I need him right now.” You say, frustrated that Lando wants to come. He’s not who you want and need at this moment; you need someone who you can trust, who’ll protect you and make you feel safe after what just happened. You need your brother, a close friend, or maybe even your father, but not Lando. Why can’t he understand that? You can feel your tears welling up again in frustration.

Lando ignores you, however. “Are you safe right now? You should try to find a group of people or something, stick to them until I get there, okay?”

“Lan-” He cuts you off, in a rush to get to you.

“Do you want to stay on the phone? I’m getting in the car right now, I’ll be there in, like, eight minutes.”

“Lando, just send Max, please.”

“I’m already in the car. Do you want me to stay on the line, or not?” You hear the car revving in the background.

You sigh. Nevertheless, you’re relieved he’s on his way and you don’t have to stay here much longer. “That’s not necessary, Lando. I’m with the bouncer right now. Just come quick, please?” You’ve given up on the idea that your brother might come, Lando’s very much set in his ways.

“Of course, I’ll be right there.” Lando says firmly before hanging up.

Although you and Lando aren’t the best of friends, you get along well enough. Regardless, you get caught up in discussions quite regularly; both of you are passionate and stubborn in your opinions – it rarely happens that you and Lando do not end up being separated by your brother or a mutual friend. However, that you know exactly how to push each other's buttons doesn’t mean Lando doesn’t care about you. In fact, the opposite is true. Although he would never admit it, Lando has liked you for quite a while and cares for you deeply, even though he doesn’t generally show his feelings. And so, when you call him (well, not him specifically, but that doesn’t matter) crying and upset, he worries about you. He could’ve woken up your brother, who you obviously would have preferred over him, but he wants to be the one who’s there for you. He wants to be the one who protects you and keeps you safe – better yet, the one who makes you feel safe, if he could ever accomplish such a thing.

Lando exceeds his own expectations when he arrives at the nightclub in under five minutes. Already spotting you standing with the big, bulky bouncer, arms wrapped around yourself in an attempt to keep yourself warm in the cold, late night (or early morning) breeze. He carelessly parked his car on the side of the road, barely turning on the hazard lights before exiting the car.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” He jogs towards the club entrance, concern showing on his face.

You lifted your head at the familiar voice yelling your name. Quickly thanking the bouncer who kept you company, you rushed over to the familiar boy. You had never been so happy to see Lando.

He pulled you into his arms as soon as you were within his reach. Cradling your head and brushing your hair with one hand, while the other pulled you closer by your waist. Although you initially wanted your brother to come, this was good too – you’d even go as far as to say you were enjoying it. Despite your differences, Lando’s presence (more specifically, his strong arms holding you tight) made you feel at ease and calmed you down. He relieved the tenseness of your body and you relaxed in his hold. Hiding your face in his neck and fisting the fabric of his shirt, you nestled yourself comfortably in Lando’s body and exhaled the breath you had been holding.

He buried his nose in your hair on the top of your head, breathing in your scent and smiling at the feeling of you snuggling into him. It felt right, so right, to be holding you like this. He whispers, “Are you okay?” You merely nod your head, not wanting to leave his embrace. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” He questions further.

You stay silent, enjoying Lando’s strong hold on you. It makes you feel safe. Safe enough to share what happened in the club. “There was some random guy who thought he was entitled to my attention.” You mumble into his neck.

“He didn’t touch you, did he?” He continues, already fearing the answer.

You let a silence fall before answering, “He did,”

Lando squeezes you tighter at the revelation. He’s not surprised a man ruined your fun night out.

You continue quickly, “But there were some girls who helped me, and I think they kicked him out. I’m not sure though, I left as soon as I could. Then I called Max, but he didn’t answer, and now…”

“I’m sorry,” Lando says, a pained expression on his face. “Men are shit.”

You let out a small laugh and Lando can barely avoid shivering at the feeling of your warm breath hitting the sensitive skin of his neck. Nevertheless, he smiles in accomplishment when he hears the sound, glad he could cheer you up.

“You want to go home? To my place, I mean, Max is there…”

“Yes,” You say into Lando’s neck, sighing before distancing yourself from him.

He kisses the top of your head before letting you leave his hold, “Let’s go then.” He says, pulling you along to his car, still tucked into his side.

– – – – –

Part 2

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loonylupinblack3 · 2 months

Text

Overprotective

Pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, intoxication, suggestions of violence occurring (nothing actually happens just very brief suggestion)

Summary: Going to the club and getting drunk without your overprotective boyfriend is never a good idea

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: posting bc of max's win in china

Max had always been protective of you. Since as long as you can remember Max had acted like your protector, stopping you from doing risky things and helping you when you did them anyway and hurt yourself.

You were childhood best friends, having known each other since you were five and he was six, brought together by a love of karting. As time passed and the two of you grew up, your relationship stayed strong, but changed. Feelings grew between the two of you, though it took until you were 21 before you two did anything about it.

So you were used to Max’s slightly overprotective tendencies. It was second nature to you, as familiar to you as breathing. However, that didn’t mean it didn’t get on your nerves from time to time, like tonight for instance. You were supposed to be going out with your girlfriends to a newly opened club, but Max was having some trouble letting you go.

He raised his eyebrows when he saw you enter the living room from his seat on the couch, eyes roaming your body. You were wearing a cliche club outfit; short black dress, heels, and bangles on your arm. You could see the appreciativeness in Max’s gaze, but also concern.

“You look nice,” he said, putting his phone down.

You smiled and gave a little spin. “Thank you. It’s the dress I got on Tuesday.”

Max stayed silent for a moment, considering what to say. “You look very beautiful, Schatz, don’t get me wrong…. But is that what you’re wearing out?”

“Is there something wrong with it?”

Max hesitated again. “It’s just… it’s not very restaurant friendly.”

You made an ‘o’ shape with your mouth. You had wondered briefly why Max had been so calm about you going clubbing, but you’d brushed it off thinking he just didn’t mind it. Now you knew it was because he didn’t actually know.

“Well, Max, that’s because we’re going clubbing, not to a restaurant,” you say slowly, waiting with baited breath for his reaction.

Max blinked, surprised. “You’re what?”

“We’re going clubbing….”

Max opened his mouth then closed it, clearing his throat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrugged. “I thought you knew.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “You thought I knew you were going clubbing? Even though I didn’t say anything about it? Or warn you about drinking too much?”

You grimaced. “I know how it sounds but I genuinely didn’t realise you didn’t know.”

Max sighed. “I know, I trust you. I just don’t know if going clubbing is a good idea.”

“But it’s already been decided. And I got dressed up.”

You pouted slightly and Max rolled his eyes. “Don’t give me that look, you know I’m just worried about you.”

“I know, but I’ll be fine. Me and the girls have sorted everything out.”

Max started. “You mean it’s just going to be you girls alone? What about Izzy’s boyfriend Liam? Or Kate’s boyfriend? They’re not going?”

“It’s a girls night,” you reminded him. “No boys allowed.”

“Schatz….” Max warned. “I don’t feel comfortable letting you go to the club alone.”

“I’m not going to be alone-”

“You’ll be with a group of girls, all of you vulnerable and easy to prey on,” Max said sternly. “I’m not trying to be mean, but without a man around you there are certain people who will take that as an opportunity to try and hurt you.”

You sighed. “I know Max, but we’re fine. We know one of the bartenders and he’s promised to keep an eye out for us, plus Liam will be driving us home so we have a ride. Seriously, you don’t need to worry.”

Max frowned, looking at your face for any trace of doubt. “I always worry about you.”

“I know, but I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Max continued thinking before eventually conceding, walking up to you and wrapping you into a tight hug. “Be safe,” he murmured into your ear.

You returned the embrace. “I always am.”

You pulled back, still in Max’s arms, and he tugged down your dress with a slight scowl. “Too short.”

You rolled your eyes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Goodbye Max.”

“Don’t drink too much,” Max said, “and text me when you’re coming home.”

You nodded your head and hugged him goodbye once more before leaving the apartment and your boyfriend. You knew he was worried, knew he’d probably be worried for the rest of the night and wait up for you, which made you feel guilty. He hadn’t prepared for you to go out clubbing, completely different from a tame meal at some restaurant, and you knew he’d be agonising over it for the rest of the night.

All you could do was answer his texts and make sure he knew you were safe.

Except things didn’t go to plan.

You arrived at the club and everything was fine. You looked around, taking pictures of the new place, and greeted your bartender friend. You ordered some drinks and stayed by the bar for a bit, talking and catching up, before one of your wilder friends, Lily, suggested shots and then dancing. You weren’t much of a shot person, mostly because you were a lightweight, and you hadn’t planned on getting too drunk tonight but everyone was egging you on, and you didn’t want to be left out so you agreed, the four of you slamming down tequila shots like you did in college.

Then it was off to the dance floor, you, Lily, Kate and Izzy forming your own circle, dancing and laughing with one another. And you were having fun. You were feeling happy, giddy, and the only thing that would make this night better would be to have Max by your side.

You stepped out of the dance circle, moving back to the bar as you took out your phone. Noticing the multiple texts from Max left unanswered you felt a pang of guilt, but it was distant compared to the excitement you felt.

y/n: maxieeeeeeee

maxie❤️: you okay?

y/n: im the bset y/n: i mss yoi y/n: u shoud come tothe club

maxie❤️: are you drunk??

y/n: jst a litttle bit

y/n: lily siad shots

maxie❤️: you did shots? are you okay?

y/n: im grate

y/n: u should cmoe hree

y/n: i wnna party wth yoou

maxie❤️: already on my way

If you were sober, you probably would have picked up on the annoyed/concerned tone Max’s text had, but you were not sober, so you texted him a ‘yaaaaayyyyy’ and turned your phone off, waiting for what you thought was going to be your party ready boyfriend.

Instead, after you’d had another shot with your friends and continued dancing, you found yourself face to face with your concerned and worried boyfriend.

“Maxie!” you slurred, throwing your arms around your boyfriend in a hug. “Come dance with me!”

Max chucked, trying not to show his concern, but his tight hold on your waist gave him away. You pulled back and looked at him. “You are going to dance with me, right?”

Max sighed, manoeuvring you so you were off the dance floor. You were almost too drunk to notice, just clinging onto your boyfriend. “I’m here to take you home.”

“But I don't want to go home. I’m happy here,” you whined like a child.

Max muttered under his breath, “did I or did I not tell you not to drink too much.”

You frowned at his bad attitude. “I just want to dance.”

He shot you a look. “You can dance at home where you're safe, not in a club full of strangers while drunk out of your mind.”

You pouted but your boyfriend had already made his decision, half dragging half carrying you to where he parked his car. You knew better than to fight Max when he was like this, even drunk, so you sat in the passenger seat with your arms crossed, glaring at the road ahead of you while silently cursing Max and his stupid overprotectiveness.

Max glanced at you as he drove. “I can tell you’re upset with me.”

“I was having fun,” you complained, “and you took me away from it.”

Max sighed. “I’m sorry Schatz, I am, but I wasn’t comfortable letting you stay in a club full of strangers drunk without me.”

You pouted again. “So why didn’t you just stay at the club with me?”

Max laughed a bit. “Because I only enjoy clubs when I’m drunk, and the whole purpose of me being there would be watching you while you’re drunk, not the other way round.”

It made sense even to your drunk brain- sort of -so you dropped the subject, letting Max off the hook. Maybe you’d argue with him in the morning when you were sober and had a better grasp on reality, but as Max parked in your driveway and helped you out of the car, all you wanted to do was curl up with your boyfriend and go to sleep, which is exactly what you did.

Max helped you undress and got as much makeup off your face as he was able to with his limited skill set and then got you into bed, laying down beside you. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to his chest where you sighed into it, content.

“I love you,” he murmured into your hair.

Even drunk and half asleep, you still managed to reply, “I love you too.

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #f1 #formula one #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 oneshot #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen fluff #f1 fluff #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 fanfiction

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strawberrysturniolo · 5 months

Text

goal // hockey!chris

summary: your boyfriend gets in a fight during his hockey game

part two

“SHIT!” I scream as the opposing team launches the puck into the goal. With some miracle, it’s pulled to the side goalpost, keeping the score at 2-2.

I relax in my seat with my best friend sitting next to me, her tension releasing just as much as mine, maybe more, considering her boyfriend is the goalie.

I watch as my boyfriend skates back onto the ice, tapping his stick three times to get my attention.

I love you.

I smile at him, watching as he races across the ice and steals the puck from his opponent.

In retaliation, that player slams Chris into the boards in front of me. My eyes widen at the sound of the impact, but my boyfriend skates backwards unscathed.

“We still on for dinner tonight?” he asks me in the middle of his game.

I nod, trying my best not to distract him.

We met when my best friend took me to her boyfriend's hockey banquet. It was hard not to be captivated by Chris. He checked all the right boxes and captured my attention with ease. I wanted to know everything about him.

We talked the whole night, then hung out in groups until we finally had the courage to go on a proper date. He kissed my cheek when he dropped me off at my apartment across our college campus, a complete sweetheart in the palm of my hands.

We started dating after a few months, taking everything really slow, especially with the chaos of our own college schedules and him having to travel for his games.

Chris skates next to his brothers, Sturniolo stitched into three jerseys standing next to each other as their coach speaks with them during their timeout.

I look at Chris’ hand, sticking out behind him. He has his hand out with his middle and ring finger down, signing I love you.

“You guys are just too cute, aren’t you?” my best friend teases me.

My cheeks burn red, a smile on my face that I can’t shake off.

A power play is set up right next to where we’re sitting. I always find this so interesting. I can hear everything the players say to each other.

“Who’s little girlfriend is there in the green?” someone says.

I know they’re talking about me, so I immediately scan Chris’ face to see what he says. He doesn’t respond, but his jaw is locked and his eyes are burning into the other player.

I watch Chris’ brother, Matt, charge into our view, stealing the puck away and attempting to shoot. It’s another lost cause. This goalie has saved the last 10 shots.

“Oh, Jesus,” my friend groans. “Look at Chris.”

I scan the ice for my boyfriend, finding the number 3 and following his every move. He follows the player with the last name Hart like a shark. I can’t hear anything, but I can see the anger on Chris’ face, and the humor on Hart’s. Finally, I watch Chris hit his breaking point.

With seven minutes left in the game, Chris races across the ice to Hart, despite the fact that his other brother, Nick, is already playing defense on him. Chris slides in front of his brother, cross-checking Hart.

“Are you kidding me?!” I hear a shout from behind me.

Eventually, the area around us erupts in cheers. Students from our school rise on their feet, jumping up and down, cheering on Chris as he picks a fight.

Sticks are thrown, and the referees stand in shock as Chris lays sprawled on top of Hart, regaining his balance before throwing punches at his helmet.

My heart is pounding, but I know better than to react and embarrass him. He knows how to be safe on the ice, and he knows his limits way better than I do. Not to mention, everyone loves Chris. Our school gathers just for him and his brothers, cheering them on at every game. The last thing I want is to embarrass him or his reputation.

“I’LL KILL YOU!” Chris roars, and at that, the referees finally get involved. It’s useless. While two referees hold onto him, another player from the opposing team runs up to defend Hart, throwing a punch at Chris’ jaw.

“Hey!” I find myself jumping up and yelling. I watch as the blood starts to pour from Chris’ nose, and now that there’s blood involved, I feel every bit of anxiety bubbling up in my chest. “Someone do something!”

Chris continues to get nailed, slurring out profanities as he expresses his anger.

“Do NOT talk about her!” he screams one last time as he’s dragged off the ice, his brothers eyeing down everyone else in case it’s their turn to throw a punch.

“Christopher Sturniolo, five minute penalty for fighting,” an announcer says over the speaker, repeating the same spiel for Hart.

I grab my bag and stand from the bleachers. “I’m gonna go meet him outside the locker room.”

I say goodbye to everyone and head to the locker room, wanting to know more about this fight, but more importantly, that he’s okay.

About 20 minutes later I see Chris walking with his coach, his nose mixed with some fresh and some dried blood. When his coach notices me standing outside of the locker room, picking at my fingers, he says, “I’ll see you tomorrow at practice.”

Chris nods, walking right past me and into the locker room. I’ve already seen everyone else leave, so I know it’s safe to go in, but seeing that he completely ignored me, I don’t think a few guys in there would be enough to keep me from entering.

“So you’re just picking fights and ignoring me now?” I scoff.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbles, tearing his padding off and shoving it into his hockey bag.

I watch as he pulls his shirt off, his toned back facing me.

I find myself becoming embarrassingly distracted and forgetting what I’m actually in here for.

“Do you still want dinner?” I ask quietly, my voice timid.

Chris sighs and places his hands on the sides of his locker, the muscles in his back tensing. “Where do you want to go?”

I shrug even though I know he can’t see me. It’s like I’m too nervous to say anything in case he gets mad at me over something that happened during the game.

When I don’t answer, he turns around, finding nothing but concern painted all over my face.

He sighs again, this time one that tells me that he’s sorry without actually saying it. His arms wrap around me, his bare chest bracing my clothed one. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles into my hair as he kisses my head.

“What happened?”

He breathes out a laugh, tossing his shirt into his locker. “Johnny Hart happened, that piece of shit.”

I don’t ask for more information. The dam has now broken and I know the water carrying the information is going to come flooding in.

“He’s known for being a top tier trash talker, but it takes it way too fucking far,” he tells me. “I mean, talking about my family, my girlfriend–Fuck!”

I flinch at the sound of him shouting. “What did he say about me?”

He shakes his head.

“Tell me,” I plead.

“No!” he shouts again. “God, just– Go wait outside. I’ll be out in a minute and we can go get something to eat.”

“I want to know what he said!”

“He’s a dick! Go wait outside,” he demands, but my feet are planted to the floor. I refuse to back down. “Are you seriously going to do this?”

“Yes!” I argue.

“Fine!” he gives in. He takes a deep breath. “He was just saying disgusting things about you the whole time. Talking about your legs, how he wanted to see what you had under your pants.” I watch as his jaw tightens again. “He said he wanted to see if he could make you wetter than I can. That he would take you after the game and pin you against his car… Is that enough for you?”

I can see his face turning red, his anger bleeding out of him. It’s at this moment that I can also see that his face is still a bloody mess, and that matters more to me than what some idiot on the other team has to say about me.

Without a word, I walk to the sinks, grab a rag that has been folded up and get it damp with warm water. I motion for Chris to sit down on a bench in front of his locker, and when he does, I start gently dabbing his mouth with the rag.

He gives me a soft smile, and as cute as that is, my focus is on his bloody teeth.

“Oh, baby,” I mumble. I find a bottle of water buried in his bag so he can rinse his mouth, and continue cleaning his face. “Are your hands okay?”

“Mhm,” he hums. “Had my gloves on.”

I nod, remaining silent as I wipe the blood from his mouth and give him somewhere to spit the bloody water.

“Coach is pissed,” he laughs lightly.

“I’m not surprised.”

“He was already getting on me about my grades, and with this… I gotta get it together or he’s benching me.”

We both know that his coach will fight anyone to make sure Chris stays on the starting team. He’s the best player this college has seen in years.

“I can tutor you again,” I offer. “I have time before work on Friday’s.”

He shakes his head at me. “I don’t want to put that on you.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if it would have been an inconvenience.”

He nods, then rests his hands on my waist, eventually pulling my wrists down to remove my hands from his face.

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely.

“I know.”

“I just…” his voice trails off. “I can’t stand it when they do that shit. I know you’re a catch because… come on,” he motions his hands at me, making me laugh. “I just can’t sit there and pretend like I’m not bothered by it.”

“I get it,” I assure him, trying to relieve the part of him that feels like he’s letting people down. “Let’s just get those grades up and try to tone back on the fighting, okay?”

He nods, this time smiling with a lot less blood in his teeth. He pulls me down to his level, resting me on his lap before holding my cheeks and kissing me gently. “I love you.”

A smile grows on my face. “I love you more.”

His eyes go wide. “Enough to fight Hart’s girlfriend for me?”

I let out a short laugh. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

#sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader

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ghosts-bandwagon · 1 year

Note

omg, imagine how the 141+ könig would react if reader fell asleep on them? not in a relationship i mean, maybe they are just sitting on the couch in the common room and reader is tired and falls asleep on one of them?

This is precious and also a mood lmao

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

Doesn’t move a single. fucking. inch.

The man goes rigid in his attempt not to wake you, he knows how hard you work so it’s no wonder you’re nodding off in the common area, so to him, there’s nothing wrong with getting some rest

So he’s sitting there with his arms crossed over his chest, legs spread (as usual), and he’s fighting the urge to rest his head on yours, not his fault you seemed so comfortable

He’s glaring at every poor bastard and dares them to even try and make a comment

Needless to say, your sleep is undisturbed

Eventually you wake up and start apologizing profusely

“Don’t worry about it, sergeant. Just get to bed yeah?”

As you walked away, he rolled his shoulders and rubbed his neck

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

He’s got his arms on the back of the sofa and behind your head and he starts to feel a weight against his chest

Then he looks down and sees you nestled up against him, your head on his chest and he’s biting the inside of his cheek to keep from making noise

You. are. precious.

100% takes a selfie with you (and Gaz in the background throwing a peace sign)

After the initial thrill settles down, his arm that was draped along the back of the sofa has now come to rest against your own

You’re so warm and the weight of you on his chest is so grounding and soothing, the steady rise and fall of your chest, it’s all so relaxing

Soon enough, he’s nodding off too and he winds up with his head almost draped over the back of the sofa, snores coming out of his mouth

(Gaz definitely filmed it)

Eventually his snoring wakes you up and you can’t help the embarrassment at falling asleep against your teammate like that, still you felt bed that you essentially trapped him there so you gently shook him awake

He massaged the back of his neck with a groan and a wince, your hands replaced his as you gently ushered him upright,

“Come on, Soap, I owe you.”

John Price:

He’s low key melting as soon as he feels your head on his shoulder, he takes a quick glance at you and chuckles

He lets you have a few minutes, knowing full well how tired you are, before he gently jostles his shoulder to softly rouse you before you dozed off deeper,

“Think it’s time to hit the sack, don’t you?” His voice is low as he leans in close,

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Don’t be. Get some rest, see you in the morning.”

He’s kind of touched and honored that you feel safe enough to fall asleep against him like that, honestly, he would’ve let you sleep there as long as you wanted

But he knows the comfort of one’s own bed is second to none, and he’d hate for you to wake up with a kink in your neck

And maybe his bones were getting a little stiff and uncomfortable from having to stay still for so long

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Gerrick:

He’s smiling softly to himself and resting his head on yours

He does that thing where you shift in your seat a bit to get comfortable and he shuffles a little lower so he can rest his head against yours

And he falls asleep too!

And honestly it’s the best sleep either of you has ever had because no one has been successful in waking you up, short of shouting or dumping water on you

You wind up waking up first and it’s already morning, you stretch and gently shake him awake,

“Gaz, we slept through the night.”

“Fuck.” He groaned, you laughed quietly and took his arm to stand him up,

“I think we’ve got just enough time to sleep a little longer.”

“What’s the point? We’re already awake.” He reasoned with a yawn and a stretch, “Come on, I’ll make coffee and then we can hit the showers yeah?”

König:

Doesn’t move a single muscle. Like Ghost, he gets quite stiff at first as soon as he feels your head against his arm (even sitting you down you barely reach his shoulder)

So he shuffles a little in his seat until your head is at a more comfortable angle and is resting against his shoulder

But now this means that his spine is curving in uncomfortable shapes, and a good portion of his butt isn’t even on the couch anymore

He wouldn’t dare wake you but holy shit his back hurts

So he slowly and carefully maneuvers you into his arms so now he’s sitting normally and he’s got you on his lap with your head tucked against his chest

He’s got his arms around you to support you and then he realizes that it’s not that much more comfortable

Eventually he gives up and winds up carrying you to your room

You wake up the next morning with a cup of coffee on your nightstand and a sticky note with your name on it (and a little heart)

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multifariousqueer · 1 year

Note

can you write miles 42 having readers bank account, card ALL that on his phone and gets mad if she purchases shi with money he didint give her. its really crazy but its miles 42....what do you expect??? hehe

Sure love!!!

A/n: y’all I love you so much but I need you guys to start requesting regular miles fanfic pls. Although 42 miles owns my 🩷

It was just a simple necklace. It was the Vivienne Westwood necklace that you saw everyone around you wearing and wanted so badly. You knew Miles would get it for you in a heartbeat but a part of you wanted to get it for yourself. It had been a long, stressful semester but you struggled through it all and got to a point where ou were passing with A’s and B’s. Coincidentally, you had gotten a job at Starbucks after months of applying and you had about $1000 saved up of your own money that you were waiting to spend on something special. That was, until that “something special” came along in the form of Miles.

You never knew what he did but you knew he was making 8x your salary in a month. It seemed like anything you wanted, you got when you were with Miles; shoes, clothes, books, makeup any and everything you wanted, it was yours in a matter of days. It’s worth mentioning that Miles is extremely overprotective and wants to know everything about what you’re doing and buying because he loves you and cares about your habits.

Even on Miles’s birthday when you dipped into your savings to get him the latest Jordan’s, he was furious that you had to use your own money:

“Damn Ma, these are valid. How much were they?”

“Oh don’t worry about it” you said

“I said, how much were they.” His eyes narrowing in on you because he knew how much they were because he was gonna buy them 2 weeks ago but decided not to.

“$500. I’ve been saving for them for you, baby. It’s all good” you tried to assure him

“Aight. thank you.” He said, pulling you close to him, the scent of the Dior Sauvage cologne you also bought him, filling your nostrils

But deep down you knew he was pissed off and mad that you spent your own money, so after a long talk about how he should be able to keep tabs on you and keep you safe, you gave him your Apple Pay and banking info for emergencies only but of course it’s Miles and being the overprotective boyfriend he is, he checks it everyday for any “extravagant purchases” made by you or someone else.

Of course he isn’t crazy, he set a $25 limit for you before he steps in and asks what’s up. Once, you were at a mall with your friend and found the cutest shirt at Urban Outfitters and decided to buy it. The price tag read $50 but you went ahead and got it; the same happened at Bath and Body Works and Tilly’s and as you made your way to the bathroom, you got a text from Miles:

Miles: did someone take your card?

You: no why??

Miles: why’d you spend $150 in an hour??

You: I’m at the mall

Miles: so? I pay for your shit

You: dawg it’s $150. It’s not that deep 💀

Miles: I ain’t yo “dawg” and yes it is when Yk I buy you shit

You: you aren’t my sugar daddy

Miles: I basically am atp. I’m sending you $1000, buy something cute

You contemplated leaving him on seen but you remembered how he hates that so you replied:

You: Okay

You had saved up enough to get the necklace and when you got it, you were ecstatic. You thought about all of the possible outfit combos and how good it will look against your brown skin but your thoughts were interrupted by a certain someone:

Miles: what’d I tell you, Mami?

You: ?

Miles: don’t play dumb, yk I would’ve bought you that necklace in a heartbeat but instead you wanted to be miss independent and buy it yourself. I guess since you’re so independent, I’ll stop sending you that $1000 every week. How about that?

You: ok

Miles: ?

You: we can discuss this when I get home

Miles: K

You: k

It was a long ride home but eventually you accepted that Miles was gonna rip your head off and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.

When you got home, he had three of the necklaces, two huge teddy bears, a bouquet of your favorite flowers and the newest pair of Jordan’s waiting for you:

“What’s all this?” You smiled and asked

“I told you I’ll pay for your shit, y/n” miles said, with a small smirk on his face

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sttoru · 10 months

Note

Toji x reader kids first nightmare

⟣ tags. dad!toji x female reader. fluff.

“ugh,” toji groans as his peaceful slumber was interrupted by small cries. it was currently 4:35am and the two of you were cuddled up underneath the blankets after putting megumi to bed a couple hours earlier. toji’s beefy arms were tightly wrapped around your bare figure, his vision blurry and his voice hoarse from the lack of rest once abruptly awoken. you started to stir too, however toji quickly soothes you back to sleep;

“ssh, ssh, i��ll take care of ‘m.” you were usually the one who instantly rushed over to your son during the night and it made your husband feel bad. you already do so much around the house, the least he could do in return was take over this simple task.

toji gets up with a quiet yawn, scratching his head as he tries to find his boxers somewhere on the floor. he manages to spot them scattered near the bed along with your own pile of clothes; “comin’..” toji grumbles, almost stumbling over his own feet while hurriedly pulling up his boxers.

the soft, weak cries of the little baby were at their loudest in the nursery. megumi was in his crib, hands aimlessly flailing around, cheeks red and tears staining both his face and bedsheets. toji’s heart ached at the sight once the lights flickered on.

“i gotta say—y’re breaking my heart there, kid.” the man sighs deeply and reaches down to lift megumi up in his (hopefully) consoling embrace. he’s seen others have nightmares before, his wife being an example, but there’s something about seeing a child—his child—in distress that makes him doubt himself as a dad. he doesn’t have any experience with kids and it showed in specific moments like these. he has no clue on how to handle a child who just got awoken from a bad dream. though, as always, he tries.

“shhh,” shushing is a simple first step that anyone could think of; “it’s okay, daddy’s here,” reassuring the little one of his presence is a decent second step, although there’s no guarantee megumi could understand. toji’s mind was working overtime as he tried to recall the methods you used to help megumi quiet down

he eventually decides to simply sit on the nearby rocking chair, leaning back against it while carefully swaying his son back and forth. his lips were brushing against megumi’s ear to whisper sweet, reassuring things in hopes it would calm the kid.

“must’ve been scary, hm?” toji mumbles, hand gently patting the back of megumi’s head. the baby was still crying, however the volume and intensity of the sobs had decreased greatly the moment he was in his dad’s arms;

“i know.. i know, shhh.” toji continues after placing megumi’s little body close to his bare chest, the chair still moving back and forth slowly—the motions being calming for both father and son.

a couple minutes pass by and megumi was finally back asleep on toji’s torso; it seemed like hearing his dad’s breathing and voice was more than enough to soothe his nerves. toji had his big hands placed securely on megumi’s body, head held low to kiss his son’s forehead as his own eyes started to droop.

“g’night..”

before toji even realised, he had started to doze off as well. he made sure to hold his son tightly—cuddling up to the tiny boy in an attempt to keep him safe and sound from any bad nightmares.

“..love you.”

#ෆ : parenting 101.#jjk x reader #toji x reader #jjk fluff #toji x you #jjk x you #jjk fic #toji fushiguro x you

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