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makeyoumine69 · 3 days ago

Note

Yo! How do you think Patrick will react when he finds out that his girlfriend has been hiding the fact that she is very sick? I love your stories by the way, keep it up!😇

Reckless

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Fluff, hurt/comfort, pet names, established relationships, reader is a total brat.

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [MASTERLIST]🪓

𝐀/𝐍: Hello dear anon! Thank you sm for the kind words and sorry it took me a while to finish this request, I have been struggling with brain fog these days.

A suffocating, never-ending cough has been plaguing you for the past few days. Exhausted and irritated by your current state, you had to stay at home, barely interacting with the outside world...including Patrick, and of course he didn't like it when you told him in your last phone call that you were absolutely fine when you weren't. And you were sure Bateman didn't buy it, but right now you didn't care what he thought or didn't think.

You popped another pill, took a big gulp of water, and rubbed your face before leaving your bathroom—you still had to solve this fucked up situation with your health insurance, which had expired for some random reason. Luckily, you always had some medicine for basic needs, but as your illness progressed, those meds weren't really helping you anymore.

As soon as you walked into your living room, you sneezed several times and at one point you thought about putting a clothespin on your nose to stop the sneezing. God, you hated being sick, but you hated being sick even more when you had to solve something. Picking up the phone, you were already looking in your notebook for the number of the health insurance company when the doorbell rang. The sound of it startled you a bit and you barely managed to hold the phone in your hands.

Who the hell is that?

Grumbling annoyedly, you walked to the door and opened it without looking at the peephole. To be honest, you were expecting to see anyone else but not him.

"Pat-Patrick?" You blurted out in confusion, pressing a napkin to your sore nose. "What are you doing here?"

"You're alive," the man replied curtly with a wry grin. "That's a relief."

You narrowed your eyes before letting out a chuckle that almost turned into a cough. "Of course I'm alive... what made you think otherwise?"

"Yesterday I called you five times or maybe even more," Bateman explained, leaning against the doorjamb, his whole posture speaking volumes about how nervous he was. "So I wanted to make sure you were okay."

You sighed tiredly and crossed your arms over your chest, doing your best to suppress your cough and hide the napkin in your hand.

"Well, you see, I'm fine...nothing to worry about. I was just...a little busy yesterday."

"Busy? With what? Or with whom?"

"God, Patrick," you growled in irritation, pulling him inside so the neighbors wouldn't gossip about the two of you later. "Your jealousy is killing me sometimes."

As you closed the door behind him, you thought it would be better to leave him alone and let him take off his coat since it was quite stuffy in here, but Patrick didn't let you go and grabbed your hand firmly but gently.

"It's not jealousy, honey," Bateman crooned, getting closer to your face and attempting to kiss you, but you turned away at the last moment. "Hmm, don't you want to give your boyfriend a kiss after not seeing him in a while?"

Distancing yourself a bit, you carefully pulled your hand out of his grasp. "I've been busy with work," it wasn't a lie. "You probably don't know what it's like... to be busy."

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"You don't look well," his scrutinizing gaze examined you as if you were a piece of art in a museum, and due to the bright light in your apartment it was now impossible to hide your bloodshot eyes. "Are you sick or something?"

Even if I am, I don't need a babysitter.

Instead of saying that, you just wanted to walk away without answering, because you really didn't want to be a troublemaker, you could take care of yourself, but then again, he didn't allow you to move, his hands wrapped around your body like tight ropes.

"Sweetheart...talk to me."

"Fine! I didn't sleep well last night!" Damn, how were you going to tell him that you were so sick and your health insurance was fucked up for some reason? "That's all."

And than a disaster happened—you sneezed so hard that you almost stained his cashmere Prada coat. The fleeting moment of complete silence and shock between you two didn't last long as you sneezed again, then again, completely forgetting about the napkin crumpled in your hands.

"What the..." Patrick was about to curse and back away, but the sight of you almost fainting before his eyes made him forget about his stained coat. "Jesus Christ," he quickly scooped you up in his arms, holding you bridal style, and strolled down the hall to your small but cozy living room, where he gently placed you on the couch. "What... What do you want me to do to help you? Hey! Don't you dare pass out!"

Despite the terrible headache and the strong fatigue, you were still in a clear state of mind and you could swear to God that you'd never seen Patrick so panicked before, his eyes darting all over your face, his big palms cold against your hot cheeks and his voice so worried that you were afraid he might have a heart attack.

"I'm fine," you murmured suddenly, covering his trembling hands with yours. "It's just a cold...but a glass of water would be nice."

Still shocked, Bateman quickly pecked your forehead and sauntered into the kitchen, and he had no idea where you kept the damn glasses. The man almost broke the cabinet door, but then he finally found what he was looking for.

The time Patrick was gone felt like an eternity, you were still lying on the couch looking at the ceiling above you, sometimes you could see black spots behind your eyes from how badly your head was hurting. When you thought about getting up to check on Bateman, he came into the room with a glass of water in his hand.

"Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" He asked you before handing you a glass. "Look at you, you can barely sit."

After taking a sip of water, you felt a little better, but then you had a coughing fit that nearly broke you in two. Patrick took off his coat and jacket and pulled up the sleeves of his shirt before sitting down next to you and dragging you onto his lap.

"I'm sorry," was the only thing you managed to say. "I didn't mean...to bother you."

Frowning, the man took the glass from your small hands and placed it on the coffee table. "Geez, what are you talking about?" Patrick's voice never sounded that serious. "Listen to me, dear. You really need to stop acting like a child and let me help you."

"I have medicine," you replied, as if all his words had fallen on deaf ears. "I'll be fine...I-"

"Have you seen a doctor?"

"I... I was going to see a doctor..." You weren't used to lying to people, so you chuckled awkwardly. "Today."

"Oh yeah? That means we can go together," the man brushed your messy hair from your face, his fingertips feeling so soft against your skin that for a slipping second you wished time would stop so you could enjoy this moment of intimacy a little longer. "My chauffeur is waiting-"

Suddenly you put your hand over his mouth to stop him talking. "Patrick...I don't want you to get mad but...we can't go to the hospital because my health insurance has expired," you saw his eyes darken even though he sat still and didn't try to free himself. "I have medicine and I really thought I could handle it myself without going to a doctor and spending a lot of money..."

And that was when his patience broke—in one swift motion he pushed your hand away and stood up—his face turning red with frustration.

"I can't believe a woman as smart as you can be so reckless sometimes," his words bordered on a scolding, but then he tried to calm down, rubbing the bridge of his nose and letting out a tired sigh. "What were you supposed to do? Sit here and wait to die alone or what?"

Somehow you were offended by his teacher-like attitude. "Stop it! You know I hate doctors and hospitals and needles! I don't want to...I don't want to go there...I'm scared."

Being on the verge of a breakdown, Bateman began to walk in circles around the room until he found several jars of pills sitting on the table next to you—how had he not noticed them before? Without saying a word, the man picked them up, took a proper look at the name of the medicine and tossed them somewhere behind you.

"WHAT THE HELL?" You instinctively covered yourself. "Are you crazy?"

"You really thought some vitamins would help you? Fucking vitamins?! Are those the meds you were talking about?" He towered over you, pointing to the side where he had thrown the jars of pills earlier. "You're kidding me, right?"

You hid your face in your quivering hands, so close to bursting into tears. "I told you—I'm scared! I'm scared of needles...I know if I go to the hospital I'll get hurt there!"

You didn't notice that you were already crying, and seeing you like that was what Bateman hated the most. The man closed the distance between you in several large steps and then, crouching before you, his hands carefully removed yours so he could see your face.

"Do you trust me?" He asked you suddenly, his hazel eyes fixed on yours. "Because if you don't, our relationship makes no sense."

These words struck a chord in you because of how disappointed and worried he sounded. Was the fear of hospitals really that big that you couldn't handle it?

"I trust you," you finally replied. "I'm just afraid that I have a serious illness and I'm gonna die."

Humming something to himself, Patrick took both your hands in his to give them a delicate kiss. "Don't be ridiculous, darling," he pecked your hands again, squeezing them a little harder. "I'm taking you to the best hospital in town. You'll get better, and then we'll have a nice vacation somewhere by the water. Deal?"

Even though you didn't know what was going through his head when he decided to use this childish trick to bait you like that, at some point you were grateful to him because you could finally relax a bit.

"Promise?"

With a mischievous grin, the man straightened up and planted a lingering kiss on the top of your head. "Of course, babygirl. You have my word." Bateman hugged you tightly and you buried your nose in the crook of his neck, but you couldn't smell his cologne because you were so sick. "I only want the best for you because I love...I love taking care of you."

You couldn't help but smile. "I love you too, Patrick," you purred in his ear, nuzzling his perfectly shaved cheek. "But throwing my meds around was not necessary."

Or maybe it was but you would never tell him that.