#it’s such a bad engine and it’s going to cost so much to get it replaced | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

awrkive · 11 months ago

Text

NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 3 — JJK

in hindsight, you should have seen it coming. had always known your luck – or lack of it, thereof – and the universe's meticulous plan of your downfall made it easy for you to get tangled up in a series of unfortunate events, which presents itself as the neighbor that lives across from you, jeon jungkook.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 18.7k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3, mature language, lots of screaming into your pillow moments, litol bit of #domesticity, FLUFFY FLUFF FLUFFFFFFFFFFFFF, angst if you squint??????????, the x file spoiler lol, suits cameo (me inserting my niche interests into conversations), the biggest warning of this part is: naked jungkook 💀

NOTES sorry for being almost 3 hours late efhkjdhfd i overestimated my abilities a bit mb mb anyway, AGAIN, i want to thank you guys for the overwhelming support! i want to take this opportunity to announce that i'll be taking a break from nb for around 2 weeks to work on my new jungkook one-shot fic that i will be posting for his birthday ❤️ if you are interested, i have posted the teaser on my tumblr page. LASTLY pls let me know your thoughts!! i LOVE LOOOVEEE reading every single one of your replies/reblogs/asks. i hope you enjoy this one and have a good weekend ahead!!!!!!

NB!JK VISUALS | TAGLIST OPEN (REPLY IN THE COMMENT SECTION. PLS DO NOT SEND AN ASK ABOUT IT)

READ ON WATTPAD | AO3

PART ONE | TWO | THREE

You always wonder how a company this big seems to not have any budget lent for a copier that actually works – something that one doesn’t need to violently slap just for it to function perfectly.

You’ve been a victim not just once but five times to its inefficiency, the recent mishap being a month ago when the ink blots jumped right over the cuff of your shirt.

With the way that you’ve been harassing the copier at the very moment, you’ll say it’s about to do you wrong for the sixth time and you absolutely can’t let it happen anymore – not when you’re currently wearing a white polo shirt that stupidly costs a little too much more than anything in your wardrobe (you decided to spend a little more than usual last New Year’s).

So, with a last unnecessary kick to the bottom of the machine (out of pure spite) you left the copier room of your floor and think, fuck it – go to the IT department and ask Taemu to back you up from his supervisor so you can use their copier instead – which is something you’re not so sure of.

It’s embarrassing to go there just to ask him for help. Not with your history. But admittedly not that much of a history. After all, he seems to be cool with you and everything seems to be pretty chill. You can just go there; ask a little favor from a friend, and then hurry down to your floor.

There are some other options, though. Like, you can always ask the intern to do it for you. But the thing is, you kind of feel bad for those three. Your co-workers are doing a lot already; asking to fetch them things all around the building, buy them snacks, stuff like that. There’s another one but she’s way too quiet and didn’t really take shit from any of her seniors… which is kind of intimidating – but she's someone you wish you were when you were also an intern. You personally don’t want to help cultivate a somewhat toxic journey for the other three because you also started the same way as them. Beyond that, it would also be too rude to ask favors from Taemu indirectly.

You’re ultimately left with little and only one choice.

The elevator dings and the doors open after it does so.

One of the people in it is a woman you’ve never met around before. Long, black hair; tailored suit, slender figure, and a posture that screams she’s never hunched her back in her entire life.

Other people that entered at the same time as you start to bow their heads down slightly and greet a polite, “Good afternoon.”

You mirror their gesture as well.

As you step inside and settle on a spot, you wonder who she is.

An executive, maybe? She looks very put-together, and there’s authority that hangs over her frame… but exceptionally young in the physical aspect. Jungkook is also young, though – and he’s an executive, so that’s entirely possible. Additionally, others seem to know her. Or they're just pretending to know her like you did. Did you miss a ceremony? A meeting? Or did you gloss over some HR email again? You’ll have to check later to find out if that’s the case.

Anyway, your curiosity doesn’t last long when the elevator doors open once again, indicating the IT department floor.

You already texted Taemu awhile ago that you were on your way so he should meet you on-time.

As you walk down the hallway with your phone in your hand, your attention is caught by a familiar voice.

“Hey,”

You look up from your phone and see Taemu waving not too far away, heading towards your direction. It doesn’t take him long to get near you. When he does, you give him a smile.

“Taemu, hi.” You say as a small greeting. Taemu lifts his hand and you thought he was going for a high-five, so you lift your hand as well to meet the gesture. But then he leans in closer, one arm about to enclose your waist, and that’s when you realize he was actually gearing up for a hug.

Taemu seems to register that you weren’t exactly going for the same thing, so he steps back. He seems shy when you look at him in confusion.

“Oh, okay, sorry,” He offers his hand again, but just when you’re already thinking about hugging him because that was what he originally meant to do, he speaks just as you lean in closer to hug him. “I thought we were high-five-ing?”

Embarrassed, your hands retreat to yourself.

“I thought... you wanted to hug?” You chuckle.

“Okay, let’s just—” Taemu steps closer again and this time, it’s more than clear to you what he wants to do.

You reciprocate the hug he gives.

“This is so stupid.” You say, chuckling against his neck. The contact is quick as you two simultaneously break apart.

Taemu laughs at your remark, nodding his head. Then he gestures ahead, pointing to the direction of the copy room.

“Your copier not working again?” He asks as you walk down the hallway together.

You heave a sigh. “Yeah, they really need to change that one. Anyway, have you told Mr. Lee?” You ask, referring to his supervisor.

Teamu nods his head, opening the door to the copy room for you.

“Yeah, it’s fine with him. Just sign the logbook and stuff.”

“Thanks, Taemu.” You say, quickly getting to work, feeling slightly delighted at how their machine smoothly does its job and not like the one at all in your department. “Hey, I’m really sorry for bothering you with this.” You lament as you wait for the paper to slide out.

Taemu waves his hand, shaking his head at you. “It’s fine.”

You purse your lips into a thin line, giving him a somewhat apprehensive smile. The paper comes out and you get your thing. After a quick scan to see if the copier got everything right, you look back at Taemu to say, “Thanks again, Taemu. I really appreciate this.”

“No worries. Anytime.”

When you announce that you’re done, Taemu calls your name.

“Hm?” You hum, looking at him and wait for his next words.

He looks coy when he rubs a hand on the back of his head.

“Can I take you out for lunch?” He says, and you still in your position. Taemu seems like he surprised himself with his own words. You open your mouth to speak but then he beats you to it quickly, “It’s not a date. I phrased that as a date – but it’s not – ah, this is all coming out wrong,” Taemu chuckles, interrupting himself. With his hands in his slacks' pockets, he leans to a random table inside the room and looks at you with a more confident stance this time, as if he just gave himself a quick internal pep talk after jumbling his words. “What I meant to say is, if we can go out for lunch together today?”

You chuckle. You were just about to say yes. Contrary to his assumption, you didn’t really take his first question as an invitation for a date. Besides, he helped you with the copier today.

Nodding your head, you offer him a grin as you say, “Yeah. I’ll go to lunch with you.”

Taemu walks you to the elevator even though you said he doesn’t need to. He's insistent but you let it, anyway.

Taemu puts his hands on both sides of the door before it closes. The ride is pretty much empty except for yourself.

“When are you off?” He asks.

You think about it for a moment. “Is 12:15 okay?”

Taemu nods. “Sure. See you at 12:15?”

“Yeah. Later.”

The elevator closes and you laugh to yourself when you catch Taemu awkwardly waving his hand at you goodbye.

“No, you didn’t, I kicked your ass at mini golf!” You say, laughing as Taemu looks at you with squinted eyes, obviously saying that was absolutely not what happened on your date a few months ago.

“Uh, you disregarded all the rules.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, fine. Rules do not matter, though. It’s just some stick and a ball and… fake grass.”

Taemu laughs, surrendering his hands to the air, nodding when he says, “Fair, fair.”

You’re currently at a restaurant not too far away from your company building. It took Taemu and you about five minutes to get here; just a quick waiting time to cross the pedestrian lane to get from one street to the other.

Looking around, you can actually see some people inside wearing your company lace. The restaurant’s sort of like a famous spot around the company, though, so it doesn't necessarily surprise you. You’ve also had a few company dinners here some time ago.

Safe to say, lunch with Taemu is going… okay so far.

No – actually, it’s way better than you thought it would be.

You could have never, ever predicted that you’ll be out with him alone again after… you know, ghosting him. Your whole assessment of his character has also changed a bit after the whole fiasco.

See, some guys start feeling entitled over your permission and consent when you entertain them even just for a bit. When you go on dates and you break it to them that it’s just not working out between you two, they start to act weird. Like you’ve hurt them. Or that you lead them on – even though it’s absolutely not the case.

But Taemu’s proving himself to be different. You honestly expected him to act like that guy because he seems the type after your first date. But he surprises you by acting the total, complete opposite.

He’s so… nice. So casual. Like nothing happened. You feel bad because right now, you've officially confirmed to yourself that you totally misjudged him.

You can’t believe you’ll say this, but Taemu is not an asshole. Like at all.

Even now, you’re recalling what happened to your date and laughing about some of the memories of it, and it feels so long ago you’re starting to remember it differently.

“Anyway, this milkshake’s really good,” you say, taking your glass and looking at it curiously.

“Yeah? I told you,” Taemu grins, eating from his own plate.

“You always come here?” You ask out of curiosity since he seems to be familiar with the menu.

“Sort of? I mean, I try to take in the city as much as I can.” You nod, recalling what he told you before. He came from Daegu, and it’s his first time in Seoul.

Before you can say anything to that, the waiter comes to your table and gives you your bill.

Taemu and you simultaneously take out your wallets. When he sees you do it, though, he’s quick to shake his head, gesturing for you to not bother.

“No, no, it’s fine. I got it.”

“I got it, too,” You say, smiling at him, already picking out your card, ready to put it inside the check presenter.

“__,” Taemu says your name while chuckling. “I swear, it’s fine. I was the one who invited you for lunch.”

“Taemu,” You call him, using the same tone he used. Taemu grins at that. “I think we should split the bill.”

It’s only fair, you think. You ate pretty much the same thing.

You hold what felt like a minute staring competition until Taemu gives in and lets you stack your card on top of his in the booklet.

You’re about to resume eating – pick up on the conversation you left a few minutes ago – when your phone dings on the table, a message popping out on the notification center.

When you read the contact name, your eyes widen but you relax your face real quick lest Taemu asks questions.

“Sorry,” you say, pointing to your phone. Taemu nods, understanding. You pick the device in your hands, turn to your other side to not be rude, and read the text from Jungkook.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:47pm]: hey I bought you lunch Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:48pm]: i was gonnna ask you to go with me earlier but I got busy with some papers

Shoot.

You’ve done a pretty good job of not thinking about Jungkook at all for the entirety of the day. You woke up so early this morning that you waited for twenty whole minutes for your bus just so you can avoid seeing Jungkook because everytime his name pops up in your thoughts, you remember what you did the night before and it just messes with your head so much.

Listen, you aren’t embarrassed about trying to get yourself off. It’s just masturbation. It’s a carnal need and it’s totally normal. What you are not proud of is the way you thought about him – out of all people – and how it actually made you feel… a little more motivated to get yourself there.

But it’s a slip-up. A big mistake.

How are you supposed to look him in the eyes after that and act like you didn’t do what you did? Granted, you did stop before it escalated. But still, the point is that you thought about him while you were pleasuring yourself. Even if it was for a tiny bit second, it still counts!

Stupid fucking ovulation, you think to yourself with bitterness. You’re a much better person without it, you swear. You don’t go around thinking about men when you try to get yourself off, not at all! Personally, your head is mostly blank when you go through it.

But Jungkook left two texts. And he’s probably seen the read tag on his end already.

You [12:49pm]: I just got lunch ): thank you for buying me one tho that’s really nice ofu

You turn your phone off after sending your reply, placing it on the empty space of your table. When you look at Taemu, he’s eyeing something behind you. With furrowed brows, the question about what he’s looking at is on the tip of your tongue when he suddenly says,

“Isn’t that Mr. Jeon?”

“W-what?” You stammer, not sure if you heard him right.

The knots on Taemu’s forehead fades, and then he nods to himself. “I’m pretty sure that’s Mr. Jeon. He’s going this way.”

“Wha—”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeon.” Taemu stands up from his seat and does a slight bow for greeting.

Without thinking about it, you mirror Taemu’s action, bowing your head longer than necessary.

“Good afternoon, M-mr. Jeon,”

It’s no use to avoid his gaze, though.

When you look at Jungkook, he seems pretty much just as surprised to see you. You look away, but your eyes fall to his hand, and you see that it carries a take-out paper bag from the restaurant. You think about his text.

“Good afternoon.” Jungkook says with an easy-going smile. He goes from surprised to casual real quick and glosses over you as if he doesn’t know you.

You don’t really know how that makes you feel.

“I was just going, have fun with your lunch.” He says and politely bids his goodbye, going straight to the direction of the restaurant’s door.

“He’s really cool, you know?” Taemu brings up when you both sit down again.

“I— huh?”

“You must have heard about the new project they’re starting at the end of this month, right?” He asks curiously.

You sit there stunned. Stunned from earlier’s interaction with Jungkook but also because you don’t really know what the hell Taemu’s talking about.

“No… I didn’t get any memo…?” You say instead, trying not to act way too oblivious lest he thinks you’re lazy or something. Not that it matters! You’re not trying to impress him or anything.

Taemu nods. “Well, you’ll probably know about it soon.”

But your head's too far gone now, still stuck on what happened a minute ago.

You look over at your phone while Taemu speaks, hoping for it to light up with a new notification from the messaging app.

A few minutes passed by and it doesn’t, even when you leave the restaurant.

You don’t really know why you’re here.

It’s been three days since that night in Jungkook’s place where you tried to bake in his kitchen, so it’s also been three days since you started practicing during the nights after work to perfect your cookies. Tonight, it just so happens that the cookies finally taste edible and honestly, it’s more than okay.

So, maybe that’s why you find yourself in front of Jungkook’s door with a plastic container in your hands, decently-baked cookies prettily arranged inside.

Jungkook was with you when you made those pathetic excuses for cookies, so you thought it’s only fair for him to try these ones and tell you what he thinks. Brag a little. Maybe have a little chitchat if he’s free or whatever.

It’s also… sort of like a peace offering for something he doesn’t need to know about. You can’t tell him you’re sorry for thinking about him when you did the deed because that’s just plain weird.

Speaking of weird, though, the interaction from yesterday left you feeling a little empty. There’s this gnawing feeling inside of you that something went wrong – but you can’t exactly point out why. Jungkook also hasn’t texted you after that – which isn’t out of the ordinary. You don’t text everyday and you don’t meet every single day, either – for the record. You’re both busy people. You can only imagine Jungkook’s schedule.

Anyway, if there’s anything that you learned about your friendship with Jungkook, it’s that you don’t need to lie to him. You just have to knock on his door and he’ll unintentionally clear your doubts by being the voice of reason because he’s nice like that.

You do hope though that tonight clears any weird air between you. Maybe you’ll find out later on that there’s nothing weird going on at all and you’re just overthinking stuff as usual.

You’re about to ring the doorbell twice when the door finally opens, showing you Jungkook still wearing his polo shirt. He looks like he’s just gotten home from work, red tie undone around his neckline and a few buttons popped open.

“Hi.” You smile.

“Hey,” Jungkook looks at you, obviously wondering what brought you to his door.

“I wanted to give you this,” you hand him the plastic container which he takes with a confused look. “Those are cookies. I baked them. I didn’t give you anything when I baked two nights ago because they were bad.”

“Ah,” Jungkook nods, looking down at the plastic. He smiles, then leans on his doorway. “So it’s good now?”

You gesture a so-so with your hand. “Don’t set your expectations too high. It’s not exactly Poilâne. But it tastes like matcha cookies, I swear.” When Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a while, you decide to add, “You also won’t get food poisoning, if you’re worried about that.”

Jungkook gives you an amused look. “I wasn’t… worried about that.”

“It’s a simple disclaimer. Just in case, you know, you suddenly feel weird in the stomach…” Jungkook arches his brow while you trail off. You roll your eyes lightheartedly. “I’m kidding.”

He lets out a chuckle and then stands upright. “Thank you for this.”

“No worries,” you say. You shift your weight from one foot to another. “Uh, do you wanna grab dinner? Right now?”

Jungkook looks at you apologetically.

“I really wish we could, but I have to finish something tonight. Work stuff.”

“Oh,” You nod immediately. “Okay. Uhm, good luck with that.”

He smiles at you. Lifting the container up, he arches his brows, saying, “Thank you, again. It looks good.”

“Yeah, I hope you like it,” You say. Realizing that there’s nothing more left to say, you turn on your heel ready to go. But before that, you look back at him one last time. “Bye.”

Jungkook grins.

“I’ll text you what I think about them.” He says, pointing to the cookies.

“Okay, Anton Ego.”

You both laugh at that, and you enter your apartment with a small smile on your face.

You don’t want to admit it even to yourself, but you might have taken Jungkook’s words about reviewing your baked goods too seriously that you waited for it last night longer than necessary. Even when the night ended and you go to work the next day, which is today, none of his texts come, and you don’t think anything’s coming anytime soon.

You try not to think about it too much because he did say he’s busy with work. You’re sure that’s the case, so you feel slightly bad for him.

Right now, you’re looking for Ms. Seo to get her signature on a document. So you head to the elevator, rushing a bit to get inside the one that’s about to close. It’s a little urgent, so you cannot waste any more time.

As soon as you enter though, you notice who’s in it.

It’s Jungkook and the woman you saw in the elevator two days ago.

You’re starting to think you need to start using the stairs from now on because your elevator trips are getting too ridiculous.

It feels like you’re running on auto-pilot when you greet them both, walking to the side to make space for the other people entering.

You wish you went beside the woman instead and not Jungkook’s side because you then have to try real hard not to look at him.

It proves to be an uneasy task when more people squeeze in as the elevator takes a few stops in between floors. You had to taut all the muscles in your body just to not get into any contact with Jungkook, but even with all the effort, it goes unsuccessful, as you brush his arm when you step back to move a little.

Jungkook looks at you the same time you do.

“I’m sorry.” You utter, low enough to not cause any unnecessary attention.

A few do turn to stare, anyway. And you can’t help but notice the way the woman’s hand moves towards Jungkook’s to hold it as she takes a look at you.

Jungkook, meanwhile, gives you that same professional smile he seems to have reserved for every employee that greets him around the building, warm voice saying, “It’s okay.”

You’re thankful that the next floor is where your stop is.

As you go back to your cubicle, you wonder who the woman is. Again.

There's something about her that feels familiar. She looks familiar. Like you’ve seen her before. You can’t just figure out where exactly.

“__,” Sol calls beside you.

“Huh?”

“You’re not having lunch?” She asks.

“Oh…” Right. It’s currently your break time. “Are you guys going out?” You say, looking at Joonhwi who’s two cubicles away from you.

Sol shakes her head, taking her coat from the back of her chair. “No, just at the cafeteria.”

You nod your head. “Okay, I’ll follow in a few minutes, just need to look over some stuff here,” You point to your computer.

“Okay. Just text me.”

You give Sol a smile and watch as she and Joonhwi head out of the office.

Your gaze falls to the time on your computer.

12:10pm.

Is Jungkook possibly having lunch right now? You remember him buying you one two days ago and feel a little sense of regret about not taking it even though it isn’t your fault and he should’ve told you first to give you a little heads-up.

You never really talked about it. You never really talked for the past three days.

But then again, he seems to be busy.

With a little hope in your heart, though, you pick up your phone and decide to send him a text.

You [12:12pm]: hey do u want to go out for lunch?

Or should you just buy him one like he did for you? It’s not like you’re trying to up him in a kindness competition. It can just be a small, thoughtful gesture from a friend to a friend.

You receive a reply a few seconds after.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:13pm]: hey __ I’d love to

Your lips curl down when you read the next one that comes in a second.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:13pm]: but I have a work meeting in 5mins

Oh. Okay. That tracks.

You [12:14pm]: okii!! That’s totally cool! good luck with work 😊

You stand up from your chair and take out your wallet from your bag, going out of your office and sending a quick text to Sol that you’re coming to the cafeteria.

When you get there, your peripheral vision catches a familiar figure.

You look back, trying to see if it’s someone you know.

Turns out it is. Because it’s Jungkook.

You’ve seen him in the elevator this morning and he wore a grey pair of suit. You’d also recognize his stature anywhere, but just like how it was inside the elevator, he’s with the woman again; long hair down like it was yesterday, this time adorning a suit dress that hugs her figure really well, her stilettos making her legs look longer but somehow Jungkook still stands a little taller.

For the very brief moment that you laid your eyes on them, you saw how Jungkook had his hand placed on the low of her back, how she laughed at something he said, and how they looked good together from your point of view. It seemed like they were on their way somewhere.

You realize that was what Jungkook meant when he said he’s busy.

They say a silver lining comes in every worst situation possible, and you’re more of an optimist rather than a pessimist so usually, you believe in the concept of silver linings even though right now – it looks like it��s going to be winning the jackpot in the lottery or… free education for everybody across the world.

“The contractor estimates it would be a week-long repair.”

“One week?” Is your immediate response, disbelief coloring your tone. “I’m sorry—” You try to fix your tone, salvaging yourself from being seen as outright rude in front of your building manager. “You mean seven whole days?”

The building manager, Mr. Han, nods his head. He looks genuinely apologetic as he delivers the news, for the record.

“That’s… really long.” You say, albeit calmer now. But you still can’t imagine it.

“It’s just an estimate. Contractor said it might be faster than that, but they still need to do a full assessment of your unit tomorrow, together with the water damage restoration company. We’re doing all we can to respond to the situation. We’re also talking to your upstairs neighbor about the stipulation of his negligence.”

You nod along to his words.

Obviously, it’s his job to ensure everything’s taken care of, but still, you’re appreciative of the way they are going about the current situation. You’ve heard horror stories about tenants getting into arguments with their building managers or landlords when their apartments experience accidents.

“Can I ask about relocation?” You ask. You have to read your lease again to make sure.

“Unfortunately, it’s not indicated in your lease policy, but your renter’s insurance should cover it. You can also talk to your landlord about reducing your rent for this month due to the inconvenience.”

You nod, giving him a small smile. “Okay. Thank you.”

The plumber and some of the help the building manager employed to dry up your place from the accidental flood had already left a while ago, and soon, Mr. Han’s figure disappears entirely after a few seconds as you watch him walk down the flight of stairs and away from the building.

You can hear the loud whirring of the air movers placed inside your unit from where you stood on your porch. Your hair’s damp, including some spots on your work clothes from the water that trickled down your ceiling as you panicked earlier to pack some of your belongings in a medium-sized luggage you managed to grab in the timeframe.

It’s the state that Jungkook catches you in when you see him emerging from the stairs, looking like he also just got back from work.

“Hey, what happened?” Jungkook, with his brows furrowed, looks at you with worried eyes, sounding equally concerned.

You sigh. “Hey,” you greet weakly. “My apartment got flooded.”

“What?”

“It’s the upstairs neighbor. He apparently left his tub running while he went to work this afternoon,” You take a sharp breath, getting pissed again at the negligence. So goddamn stupid, really. “He flooded his own place and the water leaked to my ceiling, and when I got back home from work I was welcomed with two inches of water on my floor.”

“What the hell?” Jungkook says in disbelief. You nod at his reaction. That is exactly what you said when you heard the story from the property manager. “Are you okay?” He asks, and you appreciate it.

“Not sure about that.” You answer honestly.

Jungkook furrows his brows. “You called your landlord immediately?”

Letting out a sigh again, you nod and move to sit on your suitcase – the lonesome bag that you’re planning to bring with you to wherever the hell you’re going to stay tonight. You don’t even think you have enough clothes in it.

“My place is a complete wreck. Most of the water’s drained, though, and the building manager brought some help inside and they put air movers inside to dry the place right now.” You blow air to the strand of hair that escapes from your ponytail out of frustration. “It’s a shitshow, I know.”

“Good that they responded fast,” Jungkook comments, but concern is still etched on his face as he asks you, “Have you called your insurance company yet?”

“Yeah, we’re emailing right now.” You tell him, showing your phone. You hate sending email through such a small device but you left your laptop back at the office – which is kind of a good thing, now that you think about it – because it would’ve gotten flooded had you left it in your place.

“Did you document everything?”

Your response comes in a little curt.

“Yes, Jungkook. I did.” The onslaught questions just somehow seemed to prompt irritation in you, and you can’t help but add, “I know everything I have to do. I’m an adult.”

Predictably, you render Jungkook surprised.

“I— I didn’t mean it like that. I apologize.”

When you look up at him, you see his expression softening – and you feel bad for what you just did.

Chill, __. He’s just asking logical questions.

“No, I’m sorry,” You shake your head, feeling a little ashamed for bursting like that. You shouldn’t have talked to him like that, anyway. “I don’t know why I snapped, you’re just asking the important questions.”

Jungkook hesitantly hovers his hand on your shoulder, and the look he gives you seems to be asking for permission to touch you. You don’t even know if that’s his intention, but you give him a nod.

He smiles, tapping your shoulder for a brief second, saying, “It’s okay. You must be really stressed right now.”

“You think I can’t be calm in this situation?” You look at him with a blank expression. Jungkook’s taken aback and you witness the very split second his smile drops form his face, probably thinking he said something wrong. Then you can’t help it, you break. “I’m just fucking with you.”

Jungkook’s brows furrow as he sees you bursting into a gentle laugh, breaking your serious demeanor.

He shakes his head slowly, seemingly incredulous of the stunt you just pulled.

“You and your jokes…”

“You should’ve seen your face.”

“You got me.” Jungkook chuckles.

“I’m sorry… it’s just me trying to ignore the fact that my apartment literally got flooded and those loud and big ass fans they placed inside are about to tear my ears off.”

You see the way Jungkook’s face winces.

“Where are you staying for the night, then?” He asks.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, genuinely not sure about your options. “Probably gonna book a hotel or something.”

Of course you’ve thought about Jimin. He can probably easily help you find a place for the meantime but it’d probably be hard with him not being physically in the country just yet. Sol also crossed your mind, but you remember she has a roommate.

Getting a hotel to temporarily stay at is the most obvious option there is. It would be too much of a hassle, not to mention expensive, but—

“You can stay at mine for the night.”

You think you’re getting around to Jungkook offering you help without you even asking – but it doesn’t mean you still don’t get a little taken aback when he gives it so willingly and so quickly like this.

“No.” You shake your head.

“Seriously.” Jungkook stares at you.

You stare at him right back.

“I can’t.”

“Why?” He raised his brow.

“I can’t think of reasons right now.”

“You don’t need to think at all.”

You squint your eyes at him, he does the same.

Soon enough, Jungkook breaks first and laughs.

“Come on! You’re gonna freeze in here.”

Hesitantly, you say, “… Are you sure?”

“What are you worried about?” He cocks his head to the side, awaiting your response.

Well. There’s a lot to be worried about.

There’s the thing where you always just seem to be caught into some shit and then he catches you right exactly in it. It’s starting to get embarrassing.

But Jungkook just doesn’t really seem to mind it.

“Nothing, really.” Is what you weakly settled for.

“Okay…” He trails off, raising a brow, obviously a bit confused. “Then what’s the big deal? Do you really want to go through the hassle of picking out hotels and booking a room at this hour? You have to go to work tomorrow.”

You visibly wince at the mention of work.

He’s right and you kind of hate it.

“You’re right…” you say after a while.

“You’re staying at mine?” Jungkook asks again, in which you nod your head in confirmation.

You stand up from your suitcase and pull up the handle. Then you look at him sincerely to give him a smile. “Thank you. I think this is like the five hundredth time this kind of thing happened between you and I.”

“Not counting.” Jungkook shrugs. “Have you had dinner yet?”

You nod your head. “I went with a friend— a co-worker.”

Jungkook visibly stills.

“The guy from a few days ago at the restaurant around work?”

You perk up at that, surprised he still recalls that day.

“Yeah, that’s him. Taemu. From the IT dep.”

He nods. You don’t know if he’s interested or not.

You think it’s a bit random that he brought that up, though, but you shake the thoughts away and call his name.

Jungkook looks at you.

“Thank you.” You say, hoping he hears the sincerity in your voice.

He chuckles. “You’re welcome,” Jungkook then gestures to the luggage you’re holding. “Let me.”

Jungkook doesn’t wait for you to say yes before he takes the handle from you and carries the luggage with him to the direction of his place just across from yours.

You consciously try to make your steps lighter as you walk out of the shower box, making your way towards your suitcase to check on the clothes you packed.

When you open it, you thank the heavens that there are underwear – and a lot of them, for the record – but as you rummage around some more, you find that other than your work clothes, you only have nightwear inside. And when you say nightwear, not the comfortable cotton pajama kind but the nightie one – and that basically means the baby blue silky set of tiny camisole and shorts that can pass as a pair of panties.

I can’t possibly wear these, you think to yourself, hastily burying the pieces of clothing in the bottom of your luggage.

It shouldn’t mean anything – those are nightwear after all! But it was already embarrassing to ask Jungkook earlier if you could use his shower and his towel. You can’t come out of the bathroom wearing clothes that Jimin once tagged as “slutty pjs”. Not when you’re in Jungkook’s place.

“__?”

You look over to the door when you hear Jungkook’s voice, a knock following.

“Yes?” You answer.

“Do you have clothes in there?”

At the question, your gaze automatically falls to the suitcase where the thin strap of the camisole peeks out in between some other clothes that are completely useless for the night.

With hesitance, you say, “Uhm… do you possibly have a shirt I can borrow? I promise to clean it and return it to you tomorrow, ASAP.”

You hear him chuckle from the other side. “I brought you some. There’s also a pair of sweatpants but I’m not sure if they’ll fit you.”

It’s hard to not celebrate silently when Jungkook says that – but you might have jumped a little at his words.

When you walk towards the door and open it, you give Jungkook a huge smile as you tell him, “Thanks!”

He stops. And then you stop.

You realize you’re only in your towel – his towel, to be exact.

You feel the blood rushing to your cheeks the moment it registers.

Before you can do or say anything, Jungkook moves on quickly and stretches his arm, thrusting the clothes he’s mentioned into your way.

“There.” He says simply, smiling at you.

You take them from his hand, giving him a smile too, albeit a bit awkward.

“T-thanks.”

Jungkook turns on his heel to leave, and you lock the door to the bathroom as soon as he walks away.

You settle his clothes on top of the flat surface of the lavatory, physically shaking your head as you look at yourself in the mirror to shake your thoughts away.

Thoughts of his slightly parted lips when you opened the door while you’re only in a towel.

But it happened in such a split second that you’re not sure if it even happened.

When you take his white shirt, it feels soft to the touch and there’s a scent of fresh laundry that wafts through your nose when you wear it on yourself.

It’s loose on you, the sleeves almost covering your whole arms and the hem stopping mid-thigh. But because of that, it feels comfortable – like the oversized shirts you wear to bed that you, unfortunately, weren’t able to pack with you in the heap of panic.

But the pants show a different case. It’s so big that it drags on the floor as you wear it.

You made do, though; drawing the strings tightly and and knotting them together, pulling up the gartered hems up to your calf.

When you come out of the bathroom, Jungkook welcomes you with nothing but a towel wrapped around his lower half.

“H-hey,” You stammer, eyes meeting his own to avoid looking at his naked torso.

“I was just going in. You done?” He casually says, as if he doesn’t mind being naked in front of you.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m done. Thanks for the clothes.” You say, gesturing across your body.

“Looks good.” Jungkook comments before entering the bathroom.

You think your cheeks just got impossibly hotter.

The sound of water running is heard before you scramble to the living room.

Why was he naked?!

Okay, he wasn’t actually naked naked but still, he had no clothes on. Why did he have no clothes on? You’re trying to erase the image of his torso, the lines that draw an obvious four-pack, his firm-looking chest, and the way the tattoos over his right arm apparently go way above his shoulder. It’s obvious that he goes to the gym and works out from the way those polo sleeves of his always hug his biceps a little too tight – and with a body like that, you completely understand why he wouldn’t mind parading it around.

The AC in his unit is turned on, but it suddenly feels way too hot from where you currently sit on his couch.

Shut up. Ugh. You tell yourself internally.

Completely wanting out of that headspace, you decide to take out your iPad to get in contact with your insurance company to discuss your current situation, and it does a good job of keeping your mind off Jungkook for a while.

You’re so deep in the activity that you don’t even notice a few minutes has already gone by, and with that, you don’t notice Jungkook coming out of the shower.

When you see him in your periphery, he’s now thankfully dressed in a shirt and some basketball shorts. He’s drying his hair as he walks over to your direction in the living room.

You look at him in surprise when you notice the pillow and comforter he has in his hands.

“Sorry. You should’ve called me, I could’ve helped,” you say, standing up from the couch, ready to help him with it, assuming that you’ll be on the couch tonight.

Jungkook looks at you with furrowed brows. “I’m taking the couch.”

You stare at him, ready to hear him say he’s kidding or something but he doesn’t look like he’s joking.

You shake your head vigorously.

“No, that’s ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous about it?” Jungkook says, putting the pillows on the couch, starting to make it all the while looking at you through the process to engage.

“It’s your place.” You reason.

“And you’re my guest.” He says as a matter of fact.

“But—”

Jungkook cuts you off before you can even finish your sentence.

“__, it’s fine, really. You can take my bed. I insist.”

“Jungkook…” you trail off, sounding more like a whine.

He laughs and then looks at you with a playful smile. “Okay, should we compromise? Like, what, share the bed or the couch?”

You ignore the way your cheeks heat up at the suggestion.

You honestly don’t know why Jungkook says these kinds of things. You know it’s just his usual teasing, but he’s about to confuse you one of these days…

“God, no.” You respond with a shake of your head.

He chuckles. “Oh, is sleeping with me that repulsive to you?”

You push a little at his shoulder and roll your eyes.

When Jungkook’s done fixing the couch, he gestures to the door by the far end of the room. “Come on, I'll take you to the bedroom.”

You both walk towards that direction and as much as you’ve been over his place for more than once now, you’ve actually never seen his room – and for the record, why would you?

But it looks nice. Just like the rest of his apartment’s interior, his room is also almost the same. Kind of bare, but there are some sleek furniture that add character to the whole place.

“Too cold?” Jungkook asks, and you look at him to see him holding the remote of his AC.

“The temp’s fine.”

He hums and puts down the remote.

“Alright, then. Just call me if you need something.” Jungkook says, gesturing to the door. He’s about to leave when you call him again.

“Good night, Jungkook. Thank you for your bed.”

“Good night, __. Uh… sweet dreams?”

You roll your eyes. Jungkook laughs.

When he leaves, you sit on his mattress covered by black duvets and sheets. It’s soft, and you let yourself bounce on the fluffy surface, delighting at the feel.

It’s about the same size as yours, and when you lay on it, you smell that usual scent that Jungkook always emanates. Clean, crisp, a little sweet. Like fresh apples. Or fresh laundry. He just always smells so… clean.

You feel a little sense of strangeness at the different environment you’re in, but the bed is too soft that you feel like you’re almost floating – and maybe it’s because you are tired from work and drained from the whole fiasco at your apartment, but you fall asleep fast and heavy within just a few minutes.

You almost jump from the bed when you open your eyes and see a different type of bedding, only to realize that you’re actually not in your apartment and in Jungkook’s instead.

After processing that, you begin to do a little stretching, finding that you slept quite well. As you do so, your eyes catch the digital clock on the bedside table, and you read 4:30 am.

It’s a bit too early to start getting ready for work, but maybe if you start prepping now, you’ll be ready to go out just as when Jungkook is waking up.

When you stand from the bed, you discover the absence of pants around your waist, the cold air sending goosebumps over your bare legs – and as expected, you see the sweats getting caught in between the heaps of dark sheets on the bed.

You must have taken it off in the middle of the night. It’s why you usually forgo pants when you sleep.

You decide against wearing it again, though, assuming that Jungkook is still sound asleep by now so he can’t possibly see you walking around his place naked from the waist down. Besides, the shirt’s big and almost serves as a dress.

Carrying the pants with you, you silently open the door to his bedroom to tiptoe on your way to the bathroom.

“Hey,”

“Jesus christ!” You clutch your heart at the sudden sound of Jungkook’s voice booming across the unit.

When you look at him, he’s… working out. Apparently.

Jungkook takes out the airpods from his ears and drink from his tumbler.

“What are you tiptoeing for?” He asks, brows furrowed.

From where you stand, you see droplets of sweat on the side of his forehead, his chest heaving from the push-ups you catch him doing a few seconds ago on the mat that he laid on the floor. There are small weights on the side, and Jungkook is still wearing his clothes from last night.

Did he possibly just… wake up and then choose to exercise? Is this his everyday routine?

“I didn’t want to wake you,” you make up an excuse that’s kind of partly true. He slept on the couch in the living room, after all. And from the sala, everything is pretty much visible to the eye as the unit has an open layout. So one single noise could’ve awakened him.

“Too late for that,” Jungkook chuckles. He looks at you longer than a second and you’re just about to get conscious when he asks, “You get ready for work at four?”

You purse your lips into a thin line. “Sort of. I also have to check my place.” Jungkook nods, understanding. “Uh, Jungkook?” He hums to acknowledge you. “Can I use your shower? Again?”

He laughs at the way you smile at him awkwardly. “Sure. Your towel’s just over the rack.”

“Thanks.” You smile at him and go straight to the bathroom.

You make quick work of washing yourself, and the shower, just like last night, isn’t your usual routine because of course, most of your stuff are still over at your place. Though Jungkook is kind enough to lend you some of his unused products – even giving you a spare toothbrush which now sits beside his own on the bathroom sink.

When you finish showering, you wear his shirt and his pants once again. As you go out of the bathroom, the sound of oil popping from the kitchen doesn’t escape your ears.

“I made breakfast.” Jungkook says as you make your way towards the kitchen island. He’s a few steps away, working around the stove, frying up some sausage. He takes some eggs and then turns to you. “How do you like your eggs?”

You’re sure he doesn’t mean anything by that, but then you both laugh at the realization anyway.

“Sunny side up.” You say after a while, seating yourself on one of the high stools. “Can I help you?”

“It’s okay, just sit there.”

You put your elbow on the island as you watch him work. “Wow, do you really treat all your guests like this?” You tease, deciding to poke a joke.

Jungkook laughs as he starts breaking eggs into the frying pan.

“You’re the first one.” He raises a brow your way, lips tilted into a playful smile.

“Awe.” You pretend to curtsy which makes Jungkook laugh.

It doesn’t take long before Jungkook serves you a plate of sausage and perfectly-made sunny side up. You say a delighted “thank you!” in which Jungkook returns an adorable smile for.

You thought he was going to eat with you, but he only ate the sausage and began to work on cutting up some bananas while you continued to eat.

“What did they say about your apartment? How long is the repair?” Jungkook asks while he takes out a mixer.

“Week-long,” He visibly winces at your answer. You purse your lips. “I’m trying to look for a place to stay for the remaining days.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “Lease doesn’t cover relocation?”

“Talked to the building manager and the landlord last night and they said it doesn’t. I also read the policy again myself last night, though, just to be sure. Anyway, landlord’s cutting my rent this month for up to thirty, so that’s something.”

“Okay… how about your stuff?”

As you watch Jungkook during the whole conversation, you realize that he’s apparently making a protein shake, and when he finishes shaking the bottle, he gestures it towards you, silently asking if you want to try it.

You shake your head, also answering his question. “I already filed a claim on it with my insurance company, so they’re handling it for me. They’re probably going to seek reimbursement from my upstairs neighbor’s insurance if he has one,” You shrug. “And I’m also gonna have to ask him to pay for the deductible.”

Jungkook nods, consuming his drink. You watch as he leans back on the kitchen sink, putting his protein shake down and crossing his arms, looking right at you.

“Why don’t you stay here for a while?”

You look right back at him weird.

“You’re not serious.”

“When am I not serious?”

You hold a staring competition after that, but Jungkook’s eyes are way too intense so you break away first.

“I just can’t.” You say, interrupting the silence.

“It’s friend to a friend. I bet you’d do this for me too.” Jungkook shrugs.

He doesn’t understand, though. Staying at his place for the remaining six days would mean that you’d be both living under the same roof together, and while it’s true that you would probably do this for him if he was in your shoes, it’s just not the same.

But you don’t want to get into all that. It’s too complicated to explain, even to yourself.

So you decide to joke a little.

“Probably not.” You tease.

Jungkook chuckles. “Mean.” He comments, shaking his head at you and playfully clicking his tongue.

“I’m joking,” you smile apologetically. “It’s just for six more days, though. The manager told me it might take faster.”

“Where do plan to stay, anyway? A hotel would be really inconvenient. The nearest one around here is too far from work, not to mention it’d be expensive as well.”

“There’s loss of use coverage,” You say, even though you know the stipulation, and your apartment flooding because of your neighbor’s negligence might probably not be in the clauses.

It’s just to reason with Jungkook, but he’s quick to present another point.

“It’s gonna take a long while, no?”

You pout. Sighing, you say, “You’re right.”

“Okay, so why not stay here?” Jungkook asks curiously. “You know I don’t mind. I won’t mind.” He says and it sounds so convincing and genuine.

You decide to deflect a little because you feel like giving in any seconds now.

“You say that but wait until you find that I’m not very likeable as a roommate.”

Jungkook raises a brow. “Shoot. Hit me.”

Pursing your lips into a thin line, you try to think of your bad habits.

“I…” you trail off, but it stretches into seconds way longer than necessary.

Jungkook chuckles. “See, you can’t even list one.”

“I don’t cook.” You point out.

“I already know that.”

You frown. “So we can’t take turns cooking while I stay here.”

Jungkook only shrugs. “There’s take-out.”

“You’re gonna eat take-out for a week?”

“I can cook.” He chuckles.

“Okay… but sometimes, I get super cranky.”

He nods. “I’ll be out of your way, then. You won’t even notice I’m here.”

You sigh, out of reasons now.

“I’ll try to be helpful with you in the kitchen for the next six days. And I’ll also be nice.”

Jungkook’s brows perk up. “You’re saying you want to stay here?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “But… I wan to pay you.”

“__, the whole reason why I’m offering is because a hotel is gonna cost you,” Jungkook laughs.

That prompts you to put a frown on your face.

“Fair point. But I’m going to take your couch the entire time, okay? And that’s final.”

It takes a little longer for Jungkook to agree to that. But he nods his head, anyway, saying, “Sure.”

It sounds so non-committal. You think he's going to still try insisting taking the couch.

“Okay.” You say, ignoring that thought, smiling at him. “Thank you.”

“You know you’re always welcome, right?” Jungkook says.

You’re thankful he turns around after he says that to tend to the stuff he used a while ago in the sink, giving you a perfect leeway to avoid his gaze lest he takes notice of the way you can’t help a big smile.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Finish your breakfast.” He says, pointing to your unfinished plate.

You give him a small salute.

Before he goes to the direction of the bathroom, Jungkook turns around to ask. "Do you want to go to work together?" He raises a brow, but then a second after his question, he puts a hand up, effectively stopping you from answering. "You're gonna say no. But I insist. Say yes, I made you breakfast."

You laugh at his squinted eyes.

"I was going to say yes, anyway."

"No, you weren't." Jungkook fires back.

You shoo him away playfully before he finally leave for the shower.

All you can think about is that maybe silver linings are indeed true.

Sharing a space with somebody has always felt… weird.

You had a roommate back in college for the whole four years, and while it wasn’t the worst thing that ever happened to you – it was just an experience that didn’t really strike you as something memorable or fun. Min Heeji was a Bio major who was an extreme introvert, and past the casual hi’s and hello’s, you both just never hit it off.

After moving out of your dorm, you rented around Itaewon. You found the unit through a listing you saw on Facebook – some woman who was finding a roommate to split the rent with. You found out later that the reason why the previous people before you left was because she was quite an interesting lady… let’s just say – she was a person who dabbled on the arts of illegal drug trading. Jimin jokingly told you he wondered about how her weed tasted like. Sometimes, you want to smack him on the head.

You pretty much decided on being against roommates for the entirety of your life after that.

But Jeon Jungkook is thankfully not a total hermit, nor does he sell weed.

It’s been long since you lived with somebody, and being under the same roof as him is different – the good kind of different, to be clear.

He’s somewhat a clean freak so it’s almost embarrassing to do anything in his place because it’s always so spot clean.

One thing that you learned though is that he’s a busy man. You had an idea about a packed schedule and non-existent free time for an executive person like him – but the idea feels more real now that you’ve witnessed it.

On the first day of your stay, after your apartment got flooded, he drove you both to work just like he offered. During the night, though, he seemed to have come home late. You slept at around 10pm and never saw him entering the door, and when you woke up the next day, he’s gone, only a note on the fridge telling you that he’s prepared some breakfast you can heat up to eat.

Nonetheless, you feel into quite an easy routine with him.

After a great deal of insistence from your side, Jungkook is rightfully assigned in his bedroom while you lay on the couch. It’s a bit bigger than the one you have on your own, so there’s space for moving around. Even when you wake up with shitty back pains in the mornings, sleeping on his couch is better than sleeping in your current wreck of an apartment as the contractor is already repairing your place.

As of the third day since the incident, they’ve already changed your ceiling, the flooring coming next. It was starting to look good as per your visit.

That made it clearer to you, though, that you’re indeed staying at Jungkook’s for another four days.

Jungkook was so busy that he even worked on a Saturday – told you that it was a hectic week for his team over a shared dinner that you thought will happen only once during your stay with his packed schedule. On Sunday, you kind of assumed that Jungkook will still be at the office, but he surprised you when he came barging in the bathroom while you were in it.

You had your leg propped on the edge of the bathtub, squeezing the bottle of lotion in your palm and spreading the cream over the skin of your shin, adjusting the towel up your thighs so you can cover your entire leg with the product.

You did so mindlessly, part of your usual after-shower routine, completely unassuming of the sound of the doorknob clicking and Jungkook suddenly barging inside the room with a hamper in his hand.

Frozen in your position, your eyes locked into his own as he stepped a foot forward on the tiled floor. You realized the hamper is his laundry.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were here,” Jungkook apologized, and he looked genuinely bashful.

“I thought you were at work.” you said, adjusting the towel on the top of your head.

Jungkook raised a brow, but there’s a smile on his lips. “On a Sunday?”

You narrowed your eyes at him which prompted him to laugh. A beat of silence, and then you noticed Jungkook’s gaze. You felt his eyes to the direction of your raised leg on the porcelain tub – and if your own sight didn’t deceive you, you could’ve sworn he’d made a quick glance-over to the expanse of your bare leg before he snapped right back into looking at your face.

“Anyway, I was just gonna do my laundry,” Jungkook twisted himself away from the bathroom’s door. “I’ll wait for you to finish, though. I’m sorry again for barging in.”

At that, you quickly shook your head and planted both your feet on the tiles, standing upright.

“No, it’s fine. I’m done, anyway. Are you in a hurry? I just need to change into some… clothes.” You said, glancing at the heap of some pajama pants and a t-shirt on the bathroom sink.

“Not in a hurry. You can change here.” Jungkook gave you a small smile.

You nodded your head. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I’ll be super quick.”

Your lips curled into an apologetic smile, but Jungkook waved you off.

He took one last look at you before he locked the door – one thing that you forgot to do in the very first place.

You blamed it on your habit of not really being mindful about it since you were used to living alone.

The day after that – one fateful Monday – Jungkook once again was MIA at his own place. You woke around 6 am, and as you got ready for work, you noticed a note on his fridge that he went to work earlier than usual that day, and he’d also be working late so you should lock up at night.

At the company, you did not even catch a single glimpse of him.

You bought some food on your way to his place later that day, thinking that maybe you could share a meal together – nevermind the fact that he had told you he was going to be home late. But you did not expect his “late” would exceed past 11 pm, and since you were also pretty much tired from your own activities for that day, you fell asleep on the couch without making it, lying on the surface with no pillows and comforter over your body.

In your dreams that night, you felt like you were floating.

Somebody has tucked their arms under your knees and neck, taking you off the previous surface you were lying on. The unfamiliar man cradles your body against his, carrying you somewhere and putting you on a much softer place. A mattress. A big, soft, mattress. And you noted that the man smelled of green apples and laundry. An almost familiar scent.

Needless to say, your dream was quite vivid that night.

When you woke up the next morning, you were welcomed with the familiar grey paint of the walls – the white ceiling, and the dark sheets and pillows that surrounded you. A waft of fresh laundry smell. The Iron Man figurine on the top shelf of the cabinet in the corner of the room. The black slippers on the side of the door that are way too big to be yours.

Jungkook.

The strange man in your dreams was Jungkook. And it wasn’t a dream at all.

It was Jeon Jungkook who carried you all the way to his bedroom from the sofa so you could sleep comfortably on it.

When you went out of his room that morning, ready to thank him and tell him he didn’t have to do what he did, feeling bad at the thought of him sleeping on his couch at his own place, Jungkook was nowhere to be found.

But as if it was becoming tradition, there was a note on his fridge that told you: I hope you don’t mind that I brought you to my room. I found you uncomfortable on the couch last night. Didn’t cook us breakfast because I have to go to work early again today, but I’ll have food delivered at around 7. Good morning, __ :)

— Jungkook.

That night, though, Jungkook miraculously came home early.

He arrived an hour after you, just in time as you finished doing the prep for the bibimbap you were planning to eat on your own, assuming Jungkook was going to be late again. When you saw him entering the door, you decided to make the portions of the ingredients bigger, thinking that it was the perfect opportunity to say thank you for the other night.

And you did not forget to say that either.

“Thank you for last night. You didn’t have to…” you trailed off, giving him a sheepish smile across the dining table as you both ate.

Jungkook, with his mouth full of rice – seemingly (thankfully) enjoying the meal you prepared for him – munched on it before he said, “You looked real tired. And uncomfortable, which reminds me, you should sleep in the bedroom as well tonight.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine, Jungkook. Last night was just – uh, I was waiting for you to come home because I didn’t want to just lounge around your living room while you aren’t around, but then I guessed you arrived a little late.”

Out of all the things you’d said, it seemed Jungkook only remembered one thing.

“You were waiting for me to come home?” He said, his hand reaching for the side dish pausing mid-air, eyes trained to you. Curious, his brow piqued in what seemed like genuine intrigue.

You stopped. You went over your words, not realizing those came out of your mouth.

Obviously, you didn’t mean for that to slip out.

So, you shook your head slowly. Hesitantly, you reasoned, “It’s just you’re always in your room first before I fix the couch for bedtime. So.” You shrugged, knowing your explanation didn’t suffice.

Jungkook gave you a nod with small a smile on his lips.

“I’m sorry for making you wait, then. It’s just extra busy at the company these days.”

Your brows furrowed in curiosity, “Yeah, I heard about the collaboration with Kang Tech.”

You found out about it at work that day. It’s in the accounts payable you’ve worked on the past few days, and when you asked Joonhwi and Sol about it, they confirmed the recent moves the company is recently making.

You also realized then that the reason why the mystery woman in the elevator was familiar to you was because you’ve seen pictures of her before.

Of course you’d know her. She’s the woman Jimin’s parents are trying to set him up with. The one and only Kang Heesu. She took over as CEO just very recently at Kang Tech.

Apparently, Blue Nexus and Kang Tech are collaborating on a product that will be announced later during the month – which explains her being at the company oftentimes, Jungkook being busy, drowned with work stuff – them working closely together.

Whatever you felt on that day you saw them together – you’d like to dismiss that as just a blip in the system. Your system, to be exact.

It isn’t any of your business whoever gets around with Jungkook. Whether he’s close with Kang Heesu outside work or not (like what you’ve pondered about ever since finding out about the information of their collaboration) – that’s their thing.

“Yeah, the team’s been working overtime because of it.” Jungkook added to your words from earlier.

“So, you’re more tired than I am,” You pointed out, noting the obvious. He went to work at the ass-crack of dawn, went home late, and whenever he was home – all he faced was his laptop.

You even doubt he was getting enough sleep. There were bags under his eyes that weren’t there the past month you first met him – and even though he carried them with a certain grace, you could still see that some of the shine in his eyes was becoming absent.

You were glad you were able to prepare something for him. Did something for him. You didn’t have to – but you did. Because you wanted to be a helpful roommate.

“Does it show?” Jungkook chuckled, leaning back on the chair, a bashful expression on his face.

You shook your head. “Nope. But yeah, you don’t need to give up your bedroom tonight. I’ll be fine here.”

“I actually bought something. Wait a minute,” Jungkook suddenly said. Your brows furrowed when you watched him saunter over the living room and in towards his bedroom. When he came back to the dining area, he was carrying a huge paper bag. You looked at him, visibly confused. Jungkook cleared his throat as he sat back down on his seat. “I was thinking you could use this. It’s a foldable cushion or whatever so you can sleep more comfortably on the couch.”

You gawked at the paper bag, and then at him.

“What?”

“I went to the mall yesterday and the lady told me this is one of their best sellers… I don’t know. Do you want to have a look at it?” Jungkook said, worry seeping in his tone.

“That’s a… cushion? For the couch?”

He nodded.

“Oh.” Was the only thing you could utter. You didn’t really know what to say. “I… this is really thoughtful. You didn’t have to, you know that, right?”

Jungkook shook his head and gave you a small smile.

“Thank you, Jungkook.” You told him sincerely.

“It’s nothing.” He waved you off. “I got that dry-cleaned already, by the way, so you can use it tonight if you really insist on sleeping on the couch.” Jungkook said with a teasing smile.

“That,” you point to the paper bag, “will single-handedly get me to want to live here for another three months.”

Jungkook raised his brow. “Really?”

You chuckled, leaving the conversation up on the air.

When you both finished your meal, you offered to do the dishes yourself, but Jungkook was insistent to do it, saying you’ve already done a lot for the day. You begged to differ, but you relented, anyway.

After you showered and made the couch, geeking internally at how soft the cushion he bought was, you couldn’t sleep right away, your mind finding it hard to focus on the lull of the crickets. So, at around 11 pm, you opened your laptop to pull up an X-Files episode, thinking it could condition you into being sleepy.

You promised yourself you were just going to finish one more episode, but the next episode button was too tempting and you found yourself binging the show into the wee hours of the night.

“__?” A voice coming from the far end of the room called, followed by the clicking sound of the lights turning on. With that, you found Jungkook standing on his door with his eyes half-lidded, hands rubbing his chest, seemingly having just woken up from his sleep.

“Jungkook,” you acknowledged him, straying your attention from your show. Jungkook started to trot towards the direction of the kitchen, and your eyes followed him as he stopped in front of his fridge, taking some water out and pouring it into a glass.

After he drank it, he looked at you to ask, “Can’t sleep?” You nodded your head. He made his way towards the couch, pointing at it. “Would you mind?”

“No, do you want to?” You adjusted the duvet you put all over your back to make room for him, and Jungkook placed himself beside you, peering over the screen on your laptop.

“What are you watching?” He asked, voice a little groggy.

“The X-Files. You know the show?”

“Heard about it a few times. Never gotten around to watch it, though,” Jungkook said, leaning on the back of the couch, eyes still glued to your laptop.

You smiled. “Maybe you can start it now.”

“What’s it about?”

“Uh… aliens,” you started off, feeling a little silly about it. Gauging his reaction, you waited for him to give you a judgmental look but he seemed to be intrigued when he looked at you, asking for more details. You perked up that, feeling suddenly excited. “Okay, so, the guy here – his name’s Mulder. He’s an FBI agent who’s tasked on cases that have, you know, unexplainable nature. Basically, he believes in aliens, all that ET stuff,” you explained. Right on time, Gillian Anderson appears on frame. Pointing at her, you looked at Jungkook as you introduced her to him, “And the woman – she’s so pretty – that’s Scully. She’s a skeptic. She’s an FBI agent who’s also a scientist and was assigned to be with him to debunk his work.”

“So, they investigate cases together?” Jungkook added.

You nodded your head. “Yeah, and it’s different for each episode. There’s the alien storyline which is like, the main plot of the show, but there’s the fun filler episodes. Monster of the week, they call it. I’m rewatching one of those right now ‘cause they’re fun and don’t have a backstory.”

“It sounds good,” Jungkook looked impressed, training his eyes back on the show.

You weren’t sure if he was just trying to make a conversation, but he seemed genuinely interested as you both watched the show, which tickled your excitement more. You’ve tried to get Jimin into it but he wasn’t really an avid fan of watching long shows, so you’ve given up on trying to convince him to be as obsessive of the show as you.

“Do they kiss?” Jungkook suddenly asked mid-episode, brows furrowed as he watched Mulder wiped something off the side of Scully’s lips. It’s the episode when Scully just got back from being abducted.

Amused, you looked at him and let out a chuckle. Jungkook turned to look at you, confused at the reaction.

“Hm?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s just funny. So, there’s a thing in this show, right? Scully and Mulder are not supposed to be a couple, but they act like one.”

Jungkook let out a seemingly enlightened, “Ah.” Then he looked at your screen again, “I’m watching it right now out of context and I’m assuming they’re a couple.”

“Right? They have such insane chemistry. It’s why I love this show so much.”

“Wait. They never get together? Or kiss, romantically?” Jungkook asked curiously.

“They kiss on the seventh season. We’re on the second one.”

“Wow,” He breathed, genuinely surprised. “That’s a long wait.”

“I know,” you chuckled.

You both sat beside each other as the episode finished. Jungkook would have some questions, and you happily answered each one. It was also fun to share some lore about the show – and you didn’t know if you were coming off too geeky about it – you were just unbelievably excited that he seemed to genuinely like it.

Time passed without you both noticing, and it was 2:23 am when you became hesitant on clicking the next episode button.

“Do you still want to watch another one or…” You trailed off, eyes glued to the screen, waiting to hear Jungkook’s response. But then a few seconds passed, and you didn’t receive one. Turning your head to the side, your eyes widened when you see the state Jungkook was in.

He was leaning far back on the couch with his head resting on the backrest, arms crossed over his chest, lips slightly parted with his eyes shut closed. You could see his chest rising and falling from the way he breathed in and out of sleep, looking quite peaceful regardless of his seemingly uncomfortable position.

You shut your mouth and closed your laptop quietly, trying to be careful with your movements so as to not disturb him and accidentally wake him up. Stretching your back to lean down, your breath hitched as you tried to set the laptop down on the coffee table, not daring to graze any part of Jungkook’s body, especially when his thigh was so closed to your own.

When you successfully put away the device, you went back to sitting beside him, contemplating on your next move.

You ended up staring at him, noting the way his biceps are bulging out of the sleeves of his white shirt with a thin material from their crossed position. Your eyes trailed down to the veins on his forearms, and naturally, you focused in on the one with the swirls of ink around it. It was a body of art on the first look – but looking at it at that moment – close up and free, you took time to identify the drawings on his skin.

There was that snake that trailed down close to his hand, the skeletal rock n’ roll hand, and the script that says “rather be dead than cool”. It was a shame that you couldn’t see from your current view the flower tattoo you were always curious about, nevertheless, the entirety of his inked arm was just… breathtaking, to say the least.

You wanted to ask him what they meant – or if they even meant something. You knew by now he only got them in college – when he moved to the US – and you were just curious about how he decided to get them; about the backstory, anything… Would love to trace down your fingers on his skin as he tells you the exact moment.

And then you realized what you were doing and suddenly looked away.

You felt like a creep. What were you doing, staring at him while he was unaware, unconscious in his sleep? It was not right, and you were supposed to scoot over to the edge to give him plenty of space all for himself.

But as you looked at him again, your eyes stopped at his face, and you couldn’t help but stare at it.

Again.

His nose was something you weirdly have a liking to, and there’s a scar on his cheek that once again bubbled up another layer of curiosity within you.

“Stop it.” You mumbled out loud – not loud enough for Jungkook to hear – but just enough to snap yourself out of the trance you were in.

It was stupid. So stupid. To stare at a sleeping man and have those thoughts inside your head. Jungkook would never do anything like this to you, and at that sentiment, you stood up from the couch to get away.

You caught a sight of the duvet that you used a while ago. As you looked at Jungkook, he seemed to be in dire need of one, so you made quiet steps to put it over him, stopping your breathing in case you did it too loud and he wakes up.

As you carefully laid out the blanket on top of his body, Jungkook stirred, and your breath hitched as you stopped on your tracks.

He mumbled something incoherent, his neck craning to lay on his cheek. Regardless, he stayed on his position, arms still crossed, seemingly going back to his deep sleep instantly.

You stepped out in front of him, letting out a breath of relief.

Standing there for a few seconds, you wondered about where you were going to stay. Jungkook was on the couch and unlike him – you could not carry him to his room without him noticing.

Looking at the direction of said room, you thought about staying there for the night, but decide against it. You didn’t get his permission to do so, it’d be rude—

But the couch is only one, though. And you could feel a yawn ready to come out of your own mouth, sleep lurking at the back of your head.

You could try to wake Jungkook up to tell him to go to his room so he could sleep more comfortably, but you couldn’t do it. The past few days, he had been so busy with work and seemed like he wasn’t getting enough rest. What if you woke him up and he couldn’t go back to sleep anymore? That would just make you feel bad.

Getting the pillow strewn over the edge, you walked towards the direction and fixed it against the arm rest, sitting on the spot and making yourself comfortable on it. Of course, it wasn’t – you were craning your neck too far to the side to try to lay your head, and your body was sprawled in a weird sitting and lying position.

It was fine, though. Jungkook was about two feet away from you, and you felt like you could sleep in the state.

But it was a few long minutes before it completely overtook you.

There’s a feeling of a hard plane against your back when you feel yourself waking up.

You’re in a curled position, hands tucked under your cheeks. As much as you’re starting to slowly feel conscious, you’re still not a hundred percent aware of your surroundings just yet. It’s why you ignore the blow of hot air against the crook of your neck.

When you blearily open your eyes, you’re welcomed with the sight of the back of the grey couch you’ve accustomed yourself with over the past few days. The white foldable cushion you’re lying on. The familiar scent of Jungkook’s apartment.

It’s another usual morning, as far as you’re concerned.

So, you stretch an arm up as well as your leg, groggily mumbling something as you go back to closing your eyes again to hopefully sneak in a few more minutes of sleep.

“Hmm…”

At the sudden sound, your eyes snap open, surprised at the embodied voice that came out somewhere that’s definitely not from your own mouth. It was close, though – something close to your neck; you felt it so – and at that realization, your eyes trail down to your waist, and your breath catches in your throat when you see an arm wrapped around it.

Under your head is another arm that adorns a familiar sleeve tattoo.

When you crane your neck to look behind you, you’re welcomed by Jungkook’s locks of black and messy hair, his face apparently buried in the crook of your neck.

He must’ve felt you move because he stirs in his position, mumbling something, arm tightening around you.

You feel your heart starting to beat faster than usual as you feel the tips of Jungkook’s fingers resting on the bare skin of your stomach due to your camisole riding up, and your eyes continue to widen when you saw that the shirt he’s worn last night is now lying haphazardly across the coffee table where your laptop is.

When Jungkook pushes himself against you closer, that’s when you feel something hard against the cleft of your ass.

“Oh my god!”

“What the fuck!”

“I’m so sorry!” You immediately say, retreating your hands that just pushed him off the couch once everything registered in your head.

You just… slept with each other! You woke up with Jungkook spooning you! The hard plane against your back that you felt earlier was his chest and the hot air blowing in your ear was his breath! You both fell asleep together on the couch!

Jungkook – the poor man – visibly winces as he cradles the back of his head, adjusting himself on the floor after you forcefully yeeted him off the couch.

He didn’t expect that, of course he didn’t! He still looks like he’s half asleep when you kneel on the floor in front of him, grabbing his shoulders and craning your neck to check if you’ve done damage to his head.

“What the hell was that for?” Jungkook asks, still lost about what just happened.

You grimace as you hesitantly put your palm over the back of his head and rub to soothe the pain you’ve caused him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you. I was just surprised and shocked when I–”

You stopped speaking when you notice that Jungkook is looking up at you, eyes half-lidded from sleep. Stopping your ministration on the back of his head, you retreat your hands to yourself and look away.

“We slept together.”

“What?” Jungkook asks, his tone incredulous, but more like confused. When you train your eyes to him again, you see him looking down on his body and then yours.

Your cheeks heat up when you realize what you just said.

“Oh my god, no! Not slept slept with each other! I mean, we slept together. Like, literally.” You say, looking at him in panic.

Jungkook furrows his brows. And then after a beat of silence, he lets out a low, “Oh.”

“Oh?” You parrot back.

“Yeah, oh,” He says drily. Jungkook rubs his eyes with his fists and then looks at you again. “I’m sorry, I feel disoriented. I just woke up.”

You wince at that, feeling bad for pushing him again.

It was just a reflex thing, okay! Especially when you felt that certain something in your ass.

When Jungkook stands up from the floor, you notice the strings of his grey shorts getting undone, and your eyes betray you as they pay a look at the noticeable bulge on his crotch.

Jesus H. Fucking Christ.

You stand up quickly, following after him, feeling your heart hammer in your chest.

Okay, boo-fucking-hoo! Men get boners in the mornings. What’s the big deal about it?

“What time is it?” Jungkook asks, brushing his hair back, and you have to physically look away and try to busy yourself by looking for your phone so you can ignore his naked chest on display and his abs and stupid big arms.

You spot your phone nearby and turn it on.

“Six thirty.”

“Shit.” Jungkook hisses.

You’ve never heard him let out so many curses before.

“What? It’s still early.” you say, in case he was referring to work.

Jungkook shakes his head. “Yeah, no. I was supposed to get ready at five am sharp. Need to go there early.”

“Oh.”

He groans, and the sound makes your stomach feel a little weird.

“I have to go shower,” Jungkook says, picking up his shirt from the coffee table. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Huh?” You realize what he’s talking about and is then quick to shake your head. “No, not your fault. I, uh, you fell asleep on the couch last night and I didn’t want to wake you.”

He nods, more like to himself. “How did we…?” Jungkook points between you, eyeing the couch.

“I didn’t want to use your bed without your permission, so I slept on the couch as well,” But then you decide to add, “But I didn’t sleep beside you, I was like –” you point to the edge of the couch, “there.”

“Ah,” Jungkook follows your eyes, and then nods. “Okay.”

“Yeah.” you purse your lips into a thin line. “Sorry about that. I should’ve just woken you up, huh?”

“Nah, it’s fine.” He dismisses you with a wave of his hand. “Well, is it okay if I use the shower first?”

“Of course.”

Jungkook smiles before he saunters towards the bathroom. You try not to stare at the hard lines of his retreating back, taping down to his narrow waist.

You failed to do that, obviously.

Sighing out loud when you’re sure he can’t hear you, you busy yourself in the kitchen to make some toast.

After work, you paid a quick visit to your apartment to see how it’s going, since you’re supposed to be able to come back tomorrow.

Your building manager told you that you can pretty much move back already, but there’s no water yet, so you will still have to stay at Jungkook’s place for the last time. At least for another night.

Speaking of him, when you step out on your porch, you see him in front of his own unit, back turned to you, opening his door.

“Hey,” you call. Jungkook turns on his heel, and he smiles as he sees you.

“Hey,” He greets, his hand pausing on the door. Jungkook gives you his undivided attention as he looks at you. “Your apartment’s fine now?”

You nod happily, grinning widely. “Yeah. But I have no water yet. They’re turning it on tomorrow.” You saunter towards his direction and stop beside him. Pointing to the paper bags in his hands, you ask, “What’s that?”

Jungkook lifts them up. “Soju and Midday Miso take-out.” Then, hesitantly, he looks at you curiously. “Do you drink?”

That prompts you to laugh.

“Of course. Are you drinking tonight?”

He nods his head. “Yeah. I was gonna ask you to drink with me… but if you’re not up for it, I’ll just be in my room.”

You cock your head to the side.

“What’s the occasion?”

Jungkook chuckles. “Nothing. Just thought I could loosen up.”

You nod in understanding.

You think about asking him how work’s been, but decide against it, not wanting to pry in case he doesn’t want to talk about any of it.

As you both enter his apartment, it’s almost so domesticated how you take off your shoes and put them in the rack in the threshold. Jungkook wears his black sliders while you wear your baby blue ones. Following him into the living room, it’s almost wild to see yourself being so familiar with his place already.

“Where can we watch The X-Files?” Jungkook asks suddenly after he set the bags on the table, going for the remote and turning on the TV.

You look at him in surprise, not expecting him to ask that.

You answer nonetheless, and Jungkook clicks on the show once it shows up on the screen.

“Do you really want to start with the pilot episode?” You chuckle when he hovers over it.

Jungkook grins. “I enjoyed it last night. Maybe this could be a new favorite.”

“Woah,” you breathed, shaking your head. “Do you know how much I have to convince Jimin to watch this show?”

“Jimin doesn’t like shows. I wanted him to watch Suits but he said he couldn’t stand Harvey Specter – which is fair.”

“Oh my god, that’s also what he told me when I recommended Suits!” You say. You narrow your eyes at him, excited about the information. “So… you like Suits?”

Jungkook nods. “Sort of like a guilty pleasure? I used to watch it a lot in college. My roommate studied law and started telling me about how inaccurate it was, but it’s fun regardless,” He says with a shrug. “Sue me.”

“I know, right! People always wanna be smart about procedural dramas, but I think it’s just camp they can’t comprehend,” You shake your head, feeling a certain high bubble inside you. You lean your elbows on the coffee table. “Okay, okay, thoughts on Jessica Pearson?”

Jungkook grins. “A dream.”

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I’m so glad you have the correct opinion.”

Jungkook laughs at that, and you begin to eat the take-out he bought, The X-Files playing on the big screen before you.

“You went home early today,” you comment as you take the shot glass he offers you.

A few minutes has passed already and you’re beginning to open the bottles of soju, Midday Miso take-out boxes all finished.

“Managed to finish early tonight. That’s probably why I wanted to drink,” Jungkook says, tipping his head back to drink from his own bottle. “Also, it’s your last day here.”

You nod. With a teasing smile, you jab, “Are you going to miss me?”

Jungkook looks at you briefly.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” You ask incredulously, feigning hurt.

He chuckles. “I liked your little dance in the kitchen last Sunday.”

Your lips part, recalling that time when you reheated some pizza during the night. As far as you were concerned, Jungkook was in his bedroom at that time!

“You saw that?” You say, embarrassed.

Jungkook must’ve noticed, because he chuckles and begins to sound comforting when he says, “Some part of it, yeah. Megan Thee Stallion would love to perform with you, I think.”

“Oh my god, no,” You giggle, covering your face with your hands because if he caught you during that part, it means he saw you trying to throw it back. “Yeah, I think I’m packing my things right now.”

Jungkook laughs, and his eyes crinkle as he does so, overjoyed at your tactics.

“I thought you wanted to drink with me?”

You squint your eyes. “Just because I feel sorry for pushing you off the couch this morning.”

He shakes his head, still chuckling. “Yeah, that hurt. I think I have a bump on my head right now.”

You stop, eyes widening. “Seriously?”

Jungkook presses his lips together and nods. You grow concerned, ready to lean over the table to check the back of his head, but as you do so, Jungkook makes a sound of stifling his laugh and you realize he’s fucking with you.

“That’s so mean.” you say, going back to your side and pouting at him.

“Not meaner than you pushing me off the couch.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Ugh, I’m sorry. You just surprised me, 's all!”

Jungkook laughs and nods his head. “I know, I know. I’m sorry about that. I have a habit of being able to sleep anywhere.”

You scrunch your face. “Me too.”

And then a beat of silence.

Jungkook tips his head back for another sip of his alcohol. When he looks at you again, a gentle smile is playing on his lips.

“I had a good night sleep, though. Did you?”

He looks at you with something in his eyes – something soft and gentle – his gaze making the hair on your nape stand and your cheeks burn.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

The night continues to envelope your surroundings and as time passes by, the empty bottles of soju multiply.

You’ve always had a high tolerance for alcohol – and soju, in particular, is generally not too strong for you personally. With one bottle in, you don’t feel hammered just yet. There’s a daze at the back of your head that you’re starting to feel, though. One and a half is your limit, sometimes two – you’ve had that down since college.

Jungkook seems to share the same trait, it seems like. You noticed he’s on his second one, and even though his cheeks are starting to get painted red, he still speaks with you like he’s a hundred percent conscious and not like alcohol’s hit his system already.

“It’s so hot,” you say, popping open the first two buttons of your shirt. Jungkook’s coat has long been disposed on the couch, and his ties are loosened, with the long sleeves of his dress shirt pushed to his elbow, showing his tattoos.

“Should I adjust the AC?” Jungkook asks, looking at you as you gather your hair up in a ponytail.

You manage to secure it even without a tie and answer him, “No, it’s fine.”

When you feel like you can breathe again, you look at Jungkook. As you think about what to say next, you giggle lightly.

“Let’s have some fun with these,” You point to the empty bottle of soju. Jungkook quirks his brow, which prompts you to continue. “Let’s play spin the bottle. When it points at you, you have to answer some questions. If you don’t want to, then you’ll have to drink.”

Jungkook snorts. “Truth or dare? Really?”

You roll your eyes. “No, not truth or dare. Just truth because I’m sophisticated like that. Besides, are you going to entertain me if I dare you to wear a rainbow suit for work tomorrow?”

“This is your idea of fun?” Jungkook says, teasing you. Playful with a boyish grin.

You shrug. “I mean, it’s quite fun, actually. But I know about how thirty-year-olds get. If it’s past your bedtime, then…” you glance at the door to his bedroom.

Jungkook bursts out in laughter.

“You like making it sound like I’m sixty, don’t you?”

“Are you?” You pout.

Jungkook chuckles, although relenting to your game proposition.

“Alright…”

You do a little shoulder dance which makes Jungkook shake his head. As you spin the bottle, it stops and points at him. You let out a little sound of enthusiasm.

“Okay. What’s that mean?” You ask. Jungkook looks confused as he tries to see what you’re looking at. His arm. “That flower tattoo – or if it even has a meaning.”

“Oh,” Jungkook utters, realizing. He lifts up his right arm and twists it so that the flower tattoo is within both your sight. There, you see a full view of the flower drawing tattooed in orange ink. You find yourself staring at it as Jungkook starts to speak, “It’s a tiger lily. My birth flower. It means…” You can see Jungkook hesitate for a little while, and you’re just about to take back your question when he continues to say, “It means please love me.”

“Wow.” You gasp. “That’s… so pretty.”

Jungkook caresses his forearm, staring quite lovingly at the art. “I know. My tattoo artist did a really good job.”

He takes it to himself to spin the bottle again, and this time, it points at you.

“Well… do you have a tattoo?” Jungkook asks, and it’s obvious he meant to tease.

You nod your head. His playful smile drops.

“Are you serious?”

You raise your brow at him. “Sorry. Only one question gets entertained.”

He clicks his tongue playfully but then begins to spin the bottle one more time. When it points at you again, he gives you a smirk.

“Can I see your tattoo if you’re saying you have one?”

You scrunch your face, cocking your head to the side.

“Hm. I don’t think so. It’s under my boob. So.”

Jungkook stills, and you watch as his eyes trail down from your face down to your collar – although he did it quite subtly.

“Oh.”

You grin. “Yeah, “oh”,” you chuckle. When he shakes his head, you tell him, “What?” You look at him weird, regardless of the smile on your lips. He stares right back at you, and you narrow your eyes at him. “Ohh, I see. You think I’m lying.”

“No, I’m not,” he scoffs. “I just thought…”

“You just thought what?”

“I just thought you wouldn’t have one. Or if you did, it’d be a like a small thing on the leg or something. I don’t know.” He shrugs, still smiling.

You grin. “Interesting insight.”

“Nevermind that.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, spinning the bottle again.

When the rotation stills at his direction, you clap a little and put your elbows on the coffee table.

Your next question sounds stupid in your head, but you let it out anyway.

“What’s your ideal type?” You ask.

“Oh, are we doing that?” Jungkook says, sounding intrigued. “Are you going to ask me about my first kiss next?”

You snort. “This feels so high school. But answer my question.”

“Yes, ma’am,” He playfully gives you a salute. You couldn’t help but giggle. “Okay, well, I like women who are smart and… funny,” Jungkook says, and when he looks at you, you move back a little. With a soft smile, he adds, “And pretty.”

You break the eye contact. Raising your brow, you nod your head. “Pretty women. Like Kang Heesu, right?”

Jungkook looks surprised when he hears the name.

“How do you know her?”

“How can I not? Jimin’s mother has been trying to set him up with her for months now.” You shrug.

Jungkook chuckles, as if he knows exactly what you’re talking about.

“Yeah. You’re right – not about the part that she’s my ideal type, though.”

You can’t help but let out a scoff.

“That’s such a cop-out answer, Jungkook.”

He looks at you incredulously, chuckling as he says, “What? It’s not a cop-out, it’s the truth.”

“You’re awfully close with her. I heard from my coworkers you’re both dating.” You raise a brow at him.

It’s true. Words are starting to get around the office that Jungkook and Heesu are more than just collaborators.

Of course, you know to ignore that. Not because you want to be in denial or anything – but because you just don’t think it is actually true.

But maybe poking fun at it will get you the confirmation. Or whatever. It doesn’t matter.

Jungkook laughs at your previous words, though, as if you just told him a big joke.

“God, no,” he shakes his head, as if he couldn’t believe it. “They’re really saying that?” You nod your head, your lips pressed into a thin line. “I ought to make everybody know we’re just working together. You know about the project the company has in collaboration with Kang Tech, right?”

“Yeah.”

“There you go,” Jungkook chuckles. “I’m not dating Kang Heesu.”

The words feel a bit different in your ears. Paired with the way he looked at you as he said it, he sounded as though he was… almost assuring you.

But of what?

You shake off the idea in your head.

“Okay. Next one.” you interrupt the silence to change the subject. You curse in your head when the bottle stops at you.

“Your turn. What’s your ideal type?” Jungkook asks as if his tongue is just itching to ask you that. You know he’s just excited to get back at you.

You think about it for a moment, though, and you find you don’t really know what to say.

It’s not a thought you ponder over a lot. The guys that you’ve been with were so… different from each other.

“I—I’m not sure,” you shake your head, genuine.

Jungkook points at the shot glass. “New rule. I’ll count to ten and if you don’t answer, you drink.”

You glare at him; he just gives you a grin.

“I really don’t know! I mean, my past relationships are so different from each other,” you say, pouting. “But— okay. I guess I like guys who are… confident,” You look at Jungkook and then let your mind float. “And I guess I also like somebody who’s…” You watch as he leans in closer to wait for your next words. Your feel blood rushing to your cheeks as you finish up with, “Attentive. I like good listeners. Yeah.”

“Ah,” Jungkook nods. And then, he adds, “Is Shin Taemu from the IT department a good listener, then?”

Your brows furrow. “Shin Taemu?” He nods. That earns a laugh from you. “No, we’re friends.”

“Friends?” Jungkook asks curiously.

“Well, we – uh – did date. Didn’t work out. So. We’re only friends now.”

“Date, as in, a long relationship?” His eyes are so full of genuine curiosity that you cower away from them.

You shake your head at his question. “No, no – not long relationship, it wasn’t like that. I meant date as in – dinner date. Once.” You look at the shot glass and down it because of the sudden nerves that enter you. “We’re doing this game wrong.”

Jungkoon chuckles at the way you drink another glass. He mirrors your action, though, and ask, “How so? We’re questioning each other.”

“Yeah, but it’s too many questions!” You complain, jutting your lips into a pout.

“You said you only wanted truth, so there goes your questions,” Jungkook says. You roll your eyes, which makes him laugh. “Okay, just so I can amuse you, I’ll do a dare if it points at me, and you’ll do one if it stops at you. Deal?”

When you nod, Jungkook spins the bottle. He did it quite forcefully that the bottle takes a longer time to stop. You both watch keenly as it begins to slow down. Nervous, you pray it doesn’t stop at you, and you let out a sigh of relief when it finally points to Jungkook.

Jungkook shakes his head when you let out a contained, “Yes!”

“I dare you to…” you trail off, watching as he looks at you curiously. “Let me pluck your brows.”

“What?” Jungkook asks incredulously.

“A promise is a promise.” You remind him.

“Like all of them?”

“What? Of course no!” You chuckle, seeing the genuine panic in his eyes.

“Oh.”

“You silly,” You say, laughing at him. “Not right now, though. I actually feel like I’m about to pass out. Oh my god, I have to tend to a hung-over tomorrow.” You let your face fall into your hands and stifle a groan.

“I’ll cook us some porridge or something, don’t worry.” Jungkook says. Curiously, he asks, “Why do you want to pluck my brows?”

You stare at him, and then focus your eyes onto his brows.

Pouting, you let your shoulders deflate as you sigh. “They’re so thick.”

“What?” Jungkook lets out, laughing incredulously. “I’m so confused.”

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“Okay… well, would you let me pluck your brows?”

You try to think about it.

“No,” you shake your head. You add, “Unless you’re flirting with me.”

Jungkook stops. And then raises a brow. “Unless I’m flirting with you…”

You snap your eyes to look at him. Mirroring his brow, you ask, “Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe,” Jungkook looks at you, lips tilted into a barely-there smirk that suddenly makes your cheeks burn with heat. “Do you like it?”

It takes you a while to answer, processing his words. You don’t know if he’s joking or what. Is this just his usual teasing? It feels different this time.

But why are you denying it again to yourself, though? You may be stupid sometimes, but you know his teasing gets a little… borderline flirty. You’re scared to ask him about it outright, though – afraid to be faced with the possible truth that it’s just your head playing mind-tricks for you; that Jungkook, with his teasing, is not flirty at all and you’re just flattering yourself to think about it that way.

But right now, his question feels real.

If he is flirting with you… do you like it?

You pour a drink into the shotglass and down it quickly. You feel your vision starting to get a little hazy as you put it down the table.

Jungkook realizes what you just did, and then throw his head back to laugh.

“Now, that was a cop-out.” He says, pointing to the trick that you just did.

You give him a smirk. “No rules about not answering except down a drink.”

Jungkook chuckles. “Smart girl.”

He watches as you stand up, but when you trip over the carpet, he’s quick to follow and go over to your direction to hold your wrist, his arm going around your waist to guide you to stand upright.

“You okay?” He asks. When you look up, your faces are just a hair's breadth away.

“Hm.” You hum, blinking your eyes up at him. You find it’s because your lids are starting to get heavy.

“Be careful.” Jungkook says, but he doesn’t let go of your waist, nor your wrist.

You stand there in the middle of the living room with that position, and weirdly enough, you feel like you’re both glued on it.

You can’t move – or don’t want to. You wish you want to. But you don’t, and it’s why you let Jungkook’s fingers trail softly to your waist.

“You look real sleepy,” he comments – whispers, more like, his bated breath hitting your skin.

“I am a bit dazy.” You say, finding yourself indulging in his touch.

Somehow, Jungkook never makes a move to get away even when you’re already steady on both feet. You feel that fading away so soon though, your knees starting to feel like they’re about to buckle at the way Jungkook’s eyes bore deep into your own. You feel a sort of heightened sense within your body, his hand on your back making something in you tingle.

It’s so intimate – the position. Jungkook looms over you with his much bigger frame and with his support on your back, you can just let yourself fall back.

Can you, though? Are you sure he’s going to catch you?

“You do look a little dazy,” Jungkook comments, but his eyes have traveled down to your face, and you can see them stop at your lips.

That makes them part.

You see Jungkook’s adam’s apple bobbing at the action.

“I do feel dazy,” you say, parroting back his words. Maybe they’re coming off slurred. You don’t know. You find you don’t care.

Jungkook’s lips tilt into a gentle smile. Soft like his demeanor. Soft like his arm that somehow found a way to tighten its hold around you even though you don’t need it. But it’s Jungkook though, and as much as you deny it even to yourself – you do like his touch.

“Yeah, you told me so.” His voice becomes an octave lower. His hands start to rub your clothed waist, and the ministrations of his thumb distract you a bit.

You roam your eyes around his face – noting the scar on his cheek which story you want to know so bad. When you trail you eyes down to his lips, you see the mole under it. You don’t think you were being subtle at all – it’s quite obvious that you’re just staring.

And you know Jungkook notices.

“Jungkook,” you breathed out, calling him about nothing in particular.

His only response is a small, gentle hum.

A beat of silence, and you feel Jungkook’s face leaning closer to yours.

You don’t make a move away from him, just let your legs stay where they are, letting Jungkook slowly pull you to him. You can tell his movements are slower than usual – like he’s testing the waters, searching for something in your eyes, quietly asking if it’s okay – if what he’s about to do is okay.

It makes your heart hammer against your chest – his breathing becoming more audible in your own ears. His mouth reeks of the soju you both drank earlier, but you’ve always liked the smell of it, especially when it comes with a man as breathtaking as him.

You feel the tip of his nose touching yours, your chest pressing against his own, his hand travelling from your waist to the back of your head.

When Jungkook leans down to close the gap, you swerve your face just in time to have his lips press against your hair instead.

“I’m sleepy.” You say quietly, a nervous lilt to your voice. You duck your head a little lower, laying your face on his chest and bury it with his scent.

You can feel Jungkook freeze in his position, taken aback by the sudden turn of events. You hope he doesn’t feel the way your heart goes abnormal in your chest with such proximity – but right now, all you want to do is hide. Hide your face away from him because if he sees you, he’ll know exactly what you’re thinking.

He’ll know exactly the effect he has on you.

It takes a few seconds of silence before Jungkook comes back to you.

“Hm,” He hums, and you feel his hand letting go of your wrist to wrap around your waist, squeezing for a brief moment. Jungkook’s other hand cradles your head to his chest, swiping his hand against your hair in a repeated manner, and with the way he rests his chin on the crown of your head, you feel comfort in the whole thing. “We should sleep.”

“Yeah…” you trail off, and you can just feel your lids getting heavier at the remark.

“Yeah?”

“Hm.”

“I’ll take the couch. Do you want to shower first?” You shake your head against his chest. You feel it vibrating when he chuckles. “Okay.”

“My body feels like jelly.” You say, and you feel that to be actually true.

“Is that code for “carry me to your bed, Jungkook”?”

You’re thankful your face is buried in his chest as you smile widely.

“Do you want it to be?”

“I don’t mind.”

You nod. “Good. I think I’ll get alcohol poisoning tomorrow.”

You feel Jungkook lifting his chin off your head as he sounds scold-y when he says, “Don’t joke like that.”

You giggle against his chest.

“Carry me before I pass out.”

Jungkook snorts. “Ohh. Bossy.”

“It’s my last day here. I deserve some slack.” You grumble.

“Fine.”

TAGLIST: @mortal-body-timelesssoul @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @lachimolalajeon @miniesjams32 @parkinglot-nights @peterstarkchrishiddleston @aznstoner @chuberry22 @tae-hibiscus @jungkooksmytype

note: pls check your account settings if you are enabling ur profile to be tagged.

#fic: nb #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts smut #bts fluff #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader

1K notes · View notes

andmaybegayer · 1 month ago

Text

youtube

Rambling: So much of this is just like. It's all the money, you can't get around the money. Engineering is primarily a cost optimisation problem, so is business, where do you buy your parts, how much do you pay your labour. The companies can make equal quality goods cheaper in China because of the industrial base. Western workers don't want to work in manufacturing because it doesn't pay as much or as reliably as other jobs.

I like reading articles and watching videos about factories and a thing you find with a lot of American factories is they're often highly specific niche industries where they don't have much competition or they're really low volume where less intensive manufacturing processes still work or they have big military contracts that give them their base income. Really it's wild how every little engineering shop in the US requires base level security clearance because they make the cable harness for the Hornet or whatever. And crucially, crucially: they employ 100 people. Planning to work for one of these companies is like planning to be a pro baseball player but you make $35/hr.

I studied in South Africa, and I studied electrical engineering, but like. That was my fifth or sixth choice from a personal interest perspective? As a teenager I was really into biochem. I really wanted to work on like. Bioreactor stuff. South Africa has okay industrial chemistry but not that much biochem. So why would I go spend five years getting a biochem Masters and hope I could find a job at one of like six companies. It's a bad move! Once again, baseball player odds! Mostly if you're lucky you'll get to fuck around in a half-related field for a few years and then you'll wind up with some office job that you found because it turns out running tests on paint shearing isn't personally fulfilling enough to make you stay in a lab job.

Hell, even taking the Good Hiring Engineering Job market, it's a goddamn pain in the ass to find any actual engineering work. I applied to dozens of internship positions every semester at engineering firms and workshops and never so much as heard back, whereas I could go to the software job fairs and get two offers and several interviews for a vacation job in a couple weeks. You can swim upstream to get in there but even if you're willing to take the pay cut, engineering jobs are slow moving and slow hiring, and in small departments your professional progression is often gated behind someone retiring or dying.

A while ago someone (was this Reggie? sounds like him EDIT: YEP) was talking about how part of the reason why no one in the US for the past 20 years can do like, epitaxial growth optimisation isn't because there's some philosophical or educational divison, but because anyone committed and driven enough to spend months optimizing that would just put that energy and commitment into going into software or becoming a quant or some other higher yield option. Meanwhile if you're a driven and focussed ladder climber in China there's dozens of factories looking for someone to do exactly this. The people in the West who are so into this that they still do it are often in academia, not industry, and that's an even more competitive and impenetrable sector to get into. Getting a PhD grad job in academic chip manufacturing is miserable, it's basically a six year long interview process that costs you hundreds of thousands of dollars that has a 0.1% chance of panning out.

Actually, I did once do a factory internship, it was my only nepotism internship, at a construction materials factory where my dad was a manager, and it was really interesting work! I had a lot of freedom in a small engineering team and I spent a while understanding a bag filling machine and reading manuals and tuning the control process and talking to floor workers and designing sheet metal parts to improve their jobs. And when I talked to the engineer supervising me I found out he was on a six month contract that wasn't getting renewed and he would be leaving the company basically the same time my internship ended. That company hadn't hired a full-time process engineer in ages, and probably never would if they could avoid it. Not encouraging!

People often say you should get into the trades because they pay well and are material fulfilling work. This is like. It's an elision. Successful tradespeople are in very high demand, but becoming a successful tradesperson is very, very finicky. I worked with a lot of electricians and millwrights and technicians, and for every tech who was successful and running a roaring business there were five guys stuck in eternal apprenticeships or struggling to make a name for themselves in the industry on their own. Some trades are great for this, other trades are 90% training scams where you spend nine months and five thousand dollars on a course that gives you a certificate almost no one cares about.

Every now and then I talk to an installation tech I used to work with who has a bunch of CCTV and security certs he got in the DRC, and he is just absolutely struggling to get by. There's already enough successful companies to serve the demand, why would you take a risk on this fly-by-night? He could find a technical job, and he does, but it's a dead end, everyone wants a base technician forever, they don't want you to upskill and move on. They hire in an external electrician to come in for an hour sign off on your work, and that's all you need.

You can't develop an industrial base unless it's appealing to work in the industrial base. If you're an industrialising nation, the appeal is "It's not farm work and you might get some real money instead of a sack of barley" but in a modern society you need to pay at least as well as the office jobs. If your industrial sector is small it can afford to only hire the most qualified people because it's a labour buyer's market, and that's how you produce a massive knowledge gap.

#Youtube #industrial capacity #engineering #smartereveryday is an interesting example he is a weapons engineer and a weird military guy #which like yeah that's how you do manufacturing in the US. Every little engineering shop needs military clearance #having a weird week re: industry i guess

219 notes · View notes

slattlicker · 21 days ago

Note

college age schlatt i beg 🙏 like the proper nerdy computer science college student everyone seems to forget he was

╭﹐✦˚₊· 𖤐 * no recursion without return ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ╮ imagine: hot engineering nerd meets cute cs nerd. she needs help passing a required class. he needs someone who actually listens. one tutoring session turns into two... and then they build something together. ╰﹒♡₊˚๑ *✧﹒✦ ࣪ ˖ ┊

﹒₊✦ a/n: college schlatt is real, actually. nerds deserve romance too. i'm so so sorry if this is inaccurate,,, i am an english writing major (who used to be in biochem) so take everything stem-talk in this with the biggest grain of salt ♡

warnings: academic setting · lots of stem talk (cs + engineering) · mutual nerd crushes · slow-burn vibes · tutoring sessions · project bonding · lab flirting · light insecurity · soft & earned first kisses

✧✧✧

it starts with a room that smells like dry-erase markers and burnt coffee.

tuesday afternoon, 3:15 pm. you’re ten minutes early to the cs building’s third-floor lab—mostly because the alternative was sitting through another insufferably slow dining hall lunch, and partly because you weren’t sure if you’d find the place at all.

the whiteboard has a half-erased doodle of a mushroom in glasses. someone’s labeled it fungi with a minor in comp sci.

you snort, drop your bag onto the table, and slide into the nearest swivel chair.

you're not exactly struggling in the class—but you're also not thriving. cs230: data structures and algorithms. it’s mandatory for your minor, and you’ve been putting it off for two semesters too long.

the professor announced last week that office hours would be staffed by the department’s “stem peer guides.” you hadn’t planned on going.

but then the last lab nearly made you cry in the library bathroom.

so here you are.

you’re still tugging your laptop out of your bag when the door creaks.

he walks in backwards—wearing a hoodie that probably cost too much and socks with cartoon ducks on them, juggling two coffees and a laptop under one arm.

“hey—sorry,” he says, turning around and freezing when he spots you. “didn’t think anyone was gonna show up.”

he sets the coffees down. his glasses slide a little down his nose when he tilts his head.

“you here for cs230?”

you nod. “yeah.”

he blinks. then smiles—just a little. you catch the beginnings of smile lines.

“i’m schlatt,” he says. “stem guide. i did the class last year.”

you raise an eyebrow. “and survived?”

“barely.” he slides into the chair across from you and cracks open his laptop. “what are we working on?”

you pause. he’s surprisingly cute for someone who clearly color-codes his life. his keyboard has custom caps. his notes—when he turns the screen to show you—are annotated with little pixel cats.

you try not to show your amusement. “i think i broke my brain trying to write a recursive function.”

schlatt huffs a laugh. “you and everyone else.”

he takes a sip of his coffee, then pushes the other cup toward you.

“extra,” he says. “in case you need brain fuel. also because i got nervous and ordered two by accident and i couldn't tell them i didn't want the other one.”

you accept it without thinking. warm. lightly sweet. you usually take yours iced, but it's cold in this room, so you'll take it.

“thanks,” you murmur.

“no problem,” he says, already pulling up the assignment prompt on his screen. “let’s untangle some loops.”

✧✧✧

you’re twenty minutes in and already rethinking your life choices.

not because schlatt’s bad at explaining things. actually, the opposite.

he’s good. really good.

he’s got the kind of brain that makes metaphors on the fly—comparing recursive functions to russian nesting dolls, stack overflows to a laundry chair that’s reached critical mass, and call stacks to cabinets held open in sequence.

“okay,” he says, spinning the whiteboard toward you, “so imagine you're opening those russian dolls—you know, the ones that keep getting smaller?”

you nod, watching as he draws a series of half-circles nestled inside each other.

“each function call is like opening another doll. every time the function calls itself, it goes one layer deeper. but the only way to start returning values—to actually finish—is to reach the smallest one.”

“the base case,” you murmur, tapping the smallest doll he’s drawn.

his smile quirks. “exactly. once you hit that, you start putting them all back together. one by one, returning values up the chain.”

you tilt your head. “so recursion’s not about jumping around—it's about going in and then back out in the same order.”

“bingo.”

he pivots to his laptop and pulls up a short recursive function on the screen. you lean in.

“okay, next part—this,” he gestures at the lines of indented code, “is the call stack. think of it like trying to put dishes away.”

“…dishes?”

he nods, animated now. “you open a cabinet to put a plate in. then you grab another plate, but instead of closing the first cabinet, you open a second one. and a third. and a fourth. you keep opening cabinets without shutting the old ones.”

you raise an eyebrow. “sounds like how my roommate loads the dishwasher.”

he grins. “right? but the point is, each open cabinet is a function waiting to finish. they can’t finish until the one they just called returns. so when you hit your base case, you finally start closing those cabinets, in reverse order.”

you stare at the screen, tracing the indents with your eyes.

“so,” you start slowly, “the top function keeps waiting—holding its cabinet door open—until the one it just called is done. and that one’s waiting for the one it called. like a long hallway of open doors.”

“yes!” schlatt nearly bounces in his chair. “and that hallway is your stack. it fills from the bottom up—every time you go deeper. but if there’s no base case—or it’s too far down?”

“then the hallway gets too crowded.”

you glance up at him. “and the stack… overflows?”

he throws both hands up, mock-dramatic. “you get it!”

you laugh—really laugh—and shake your head. “it actually makes sense. which is annoying. because i was ready to just declare defeat and become a barista.”

he nudges his coffee toward you. “nah. baristas don’t use call stacks.”

you take a sip, smiling into the lid. “honestly? if you’d used metaphors in the lab handout, i might’ve passed the last quiz.”

“metaphors are how i survive,” he says, then lowers his voice in mock-conspiracy. “they trick your brain into thinking you’re doing storytelling, not math.”

you grin. “you are such a dork.”

“thank you,” he says, deadpan. “that’s the highest compliment in this lab.”

you roll your eyes—but you’re still smiling.

✧✧✧

you hadn’t meant to invite him.

it just slipped out—somewhere between scribbling return values and teasing him for his handwriting—your mouth said, “hey, i’m grabbing food after this. you want to come?” like it was the most normal thing in the world.

he blinked. just once.

then shrugged and said, “sure,” like he wasn’t surprised either.

now you’re sitting across from him at a corner table in the dining hall. your tray’s got a slice of pizza and a sad salad. his has a sandwich, two cookies, and three chocolate milks.

“you know,” you say, chewing thoughtfully, “for someone who talks like a grad student, you eat like a middle schooler.”

he takes a sip of one of the chocolate milks. “middle schoolers are onto something.”

you snort. then pause. then blurt it out—because you’ve been thinking about it since the cs homework started, and he feels safe, in a quiet, weird way:

“okay, don’t judge me, but i’ve been working on this stupid little side project where i’m trying to build a low-power prosthetic hand using recycled printer motors.”

schlatt looks up, mid-bite. “wait. seriously?”

you nod. “yeah, i’ve been salvaging parts from the e-waste lab and retrofitting them. it’s dumb and janky and probably not functional, but—”

“that’s so sick,” he says, with total sincerity. “like—you’re making that from scratch?”

you sit up a little straighter. “well, not the whole thing. i’m using an arduino as the controller right now, because i suck at microprocessors and writing drivers from zero is hell. but i’ve been wiring it to flex sensors, and i’m experimenting with these homebrew 3d-printed phalanges—”

you don’t stop.

not once you get going.

you talk with your hands, gesturing wildly, pulling up half-broken images on your phone, sketching quick shapes on your napkin with a pen in the side-pocket of your backpack.

and the whole time? schlatt just watches.

listens.

not just politely—but engaged. interested. like he wants to hear it all. like you’re not over-explaining, or rambling, or going on too long about a niche thing that keeps your brain lit up at 3am.

you pause somewhere around “wrist articulation via recycled watch gears” and finally look up.

his eyes are warm.

“you know,” he says, grinning, “i think you just activated my stem side quest.”

you blink. “what?”

“i wanna help,” he says. “i mean, if you’ll let me. i’ve never coded a servo system, but… i’m a fast learner. and i think it’s badass.”

you don’t say anything.

not right away.

because your chest feels kind of full. your face feels warm. and for once, your brain doesn’t immediately try to shrink you back down.

instead, you nod. just once. “okay.”

he smiles at you over his chocolate milk.

and you think, shit, maybe office hours weren’t the highlight of the week after all.

✧✧✧

the next few weeks settle into a rhythm.

it starts with tutoring.

once a week turns into twice. then three times. not because you’re struggling (anymore), but because he’s… kind of fun to talk to. at least when he’s not roasting your variable names or trying to explain recursion using empty cereal boxes.

he sits across from you at the library table, hoodie sleeves pushed up, laptop screen smudged from how often he drags his fingers across it to point something out. sometimes he forgets to eat. you learn to pack granola bars in your pencil pouch. he never says thank you—just steals one with a smirk and keeps talking.

you start getting better. grades creeping up. error logs shrinking. you don’t dread opening your ide anymore. the code starts making sense—not just his, but yours.

one afternoon, you casually mention a project idea you’d been playing with—something stupid, just for fun. something to do with hardware integration. you expect him to laugh.

he doesn’t.

he spins his laptop around and starts mapping out a database schema like he’s been waiting for you to say it.

that’s how the side project starts.

lunches get longer. office hours get later. one day you bring your soldering kit to the library, and he lights up like you just handed him a rare pokémon card. the whole table smells like burnt plastic for an hour. no one complains. but no one sits near you either.

you nerd out hard. unapologetically. you find yourself going on tangents—about conductive thread, or how weird the i2c protocol is—and instead of zoning out, he asks questions. good ones. thoughtful ones. he doesn’t just tolerate your rants; he builds on them.

and okay, maybe you start noticing things.

like how he mumbles to himself when he’s focused. or how his hands are always warm. or how he smiles at you—not in a big, charming way, but in a quiet, earned one. like you’re the only one who gets to see this side of him.

it’s nothing serious. just… a shift.

you brush it off.

but your code’s never looked cleaner.

and your heart’s never beat louder.

✧✧✧

it happens by accident.

you’re heading toward the back patio of the student union, iced coffee in one hand, a stack of circuits notes in the other, when you spot him.

schlatt.

at one of the outdoor tables.

not alone.

there’s a group of students—three of them, maybe four—leaning in. cs majors, you recognize them. they’re the type who ask three questions per lecture and answer five more that weren’t theirs. big voices. bragging energy.

you can’t hear everything, but you don’t need to. the body language’s loud enough.

schlatt’s sitting off-center. not really in the circle. elbows tucked in, voice low, like he’s trying to contribute. like he wants to. but they’re talking over him. dismissing. one of them even laughs—not the good kind. the kind you’ve felt in your spine before.

and you watch it happen:

the way schlatt’s mouth tugs tight at the corner. the way he adjusts his sleeve, like it’ll make him smaller. the way he tries one more time to speak, then gives up halfway through the sentence and shrugs it off, pretending it didn’t matter.

they keep talking.

he goes quiet.

you’re frozen in place, coffee sweating through your fingers, because it clicks.

he’s like you.

he is you.

all that time you thought he was the confident one—the one who belonged. the one who was already part of something. but he’s not. not really. not when it comes to this. not when it comes to them.

he’s just better at hiding it.

better at laughing it off.

but the look in his eyes, right then—small and a little tired—that’s a look you know too well.

no one talks about what it feels like when your brain lights up for something and everyone else treats it like a joke.

no one talks about what it’s like to be too much in the wrong direction.

and suddenly, all your late-night rambling about microcontrollers and e-textiles feels different.

because he listened. not just because he was polite. but because he got it. you don't think you've ever felt so fully understood until him.

you take a step forward. you don’t know what you’re going to say.

but you’re not about to leave him sitting alone in a conversation that doesn’t want him.

not when you know what that feels like.

so you walk over.

“hey, there you are,” you say, nudging your knuckles gently against schlatt’s shoulder. “i was looking for you.”

he turns, surprised—then relieved. “oh—hey y/n.”

“sorry,” one of the students says, hesitant. “uh, are we… interrupting something?”

“nah,” you say, easy. “just didn’t want to miss my favorite stem guide.”

schlatt’s ears go a little pink.

you glance at the table—some kind of project group, you think. their laptops are open, notebooks out, but their conversation’s turned awkward now. the vibe’s off. not hostile—just… cliquey.

“you guys working on something for fundamentals?” you ask, glancing at their notes.

“uh, yeah,” one mutters. “trying to figure out the recursion stuff.”

you smile. “then you’re in luck. this guy’s a recursion whisperer.”

schlatt huffs a little laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“i’m serious,” you say, looking at him now. “you explained it to me with like…those russian dolls. made it make sense in ten minutes.”

“you remember the russian dolls?”

“obviously,” you grin. “changed my life.”

he smiles, a little shy, but brighter now.

you turn to the group. “anyway, sorry to interrupt. i just wanted to steal him for a bit. we’re working on something together—well, more like, he’s doing the hard part and i’m nodding along and pretending to contribute.”

they chuckle. the tension eases.

“good luck, though,” you add, friendly. “you’ve got a good one here.”

you tap the back of his hand.

“ready, genius?”

he nods. stands up. follows you without question.

and once you’re a few steps away, you glance over and say, casually but soft:

“for the record? you’re way too smart to sit through that kind of conversation, with those kinds of people, and not say anything.”

his voice is quiet. “didn’t think they really wanted my advice…or any of my input, for that matter.”

"sucks for them," you bump his arm. “i do.”

he looks at you.

and smiles.

“you’re different,” he says.

you shrug. “nah. i just don’t have the patience for people who don’t know a good brain when they’re sitting next to one.”

he laughs under his breath—bashful, but warm.

“besides,” you add, nudging him again, “you’re the only guy on campus who’s ever made me care about code.”

“flattered,” he says, with a little bow of his head. “high praise.”

“it is,” you nod. “don’t let that go to your head, though.”

“too late.”

you both laugh.

and as you walk side-by-side down the hallway, something feels… lighter.

✧✧✧

the lab is mostly empty—just the hum of old fluorescents overhead and the rhythmic click of schlatt’s keyboard echoing off the cinderblock walls.

you’re both hunched over the prototype, wires splayed like spaghetti across the table, your laptop screen casting a pale blue glow over your notes. it’s late. not late-late, but late enough that you’ve lost track of time in that delicious, focus-hazed kind of way.

“okay,” you murmur, “i think that’s the last adjustment on the sensor matrix. wanna try running the loop again?”

schlatt doesn’t answer right away—he’s rereading your code, brows furrowed, mouth slightly open like he’s working through it out loud in his head.

you wait.

he presses enter.

the terminal blinks once more.

and then—

nothing.

the servo doesn’t twitch. the sensor reads null. everything is still.

you groan, letting your head thunk forward onto the table. “are you kidding me?”

“hang on,” schlatt mutters, already scrolling. “it’s not a full crash. there’s something—it’s just not hitting the output loop.”

“i swear,” you grumble, face still mashed into your notes, “if this is another semicolon issue, i’m throwing myself into a ditch.”

“nah,” he says, voice calm, reassuring. “it’s not your code.”

you lift your head just enough to side-eye him. “it’s not yours either, huh?”

he doesn’t answer right away.

instead, he reaches for the breadboard, fingers quick and precise as he repositions a single wire—green to yellow. it’s such a small shift you almost miss it.

“that,” he says, “was plugged into the wrong pin.”

you blink.

he presses enter again.

and this time, the prototype moves.

just a little—just a careful curl of synthetic fingers, one joint at a time, like a hesitant wave from a ghost hand.

your jaw drops.

schlatt stares too. for once, he’s quiet.

“…did we—?”

“yeah,” he breathes. “we did.”

you let out a half-laugh, half-squeak. “dude—”

you turn to him without thinking.

and he’s already looking at you.

and before your brain catches up with your body, you’re reaching out—arms around his shoulders, heart in your throat.

he stiffens for a second. then melts into it.

his arms curl around your waist, tentative at first, then tighter. his cheek brushes your temple.

“holy shit,” you whisper, still breathless. “we did it.”

“we really fucking did it.”

the hug lasts longer than it needs to. it shifts. softens. becomes something else.

your hands curl in the fabric of his hoodie. his thumb rubs slow circles at your back.

neither of you move to pull away.

but eventually—awkwardly—you both realize you probably should.

you shift first, just a little, arms loosening. schlatt mirrors you a second later, like he’s waiting for permission.

and then—

your foot bumps a loose cable under the table.

you stumble, just a half step, enough to make you grip his hoodie tighter out of instinct.

he catches you by the elbow—quick, steady—but in doing so, he knocks into the edge of the desk.

a pen clatters to the floor. your hip bangs against the chair. both of you freeze.

then, in perfect harmony:

“sorry—”

you look at each other.

he’s flushed to the tips of his ears.

you’re no better.

his hand’s still on your elbow. yours is still in the front pocket of his hoodie. neither of you seems to know what to do with yourselves now.

“…so,” you say, trying to laugh it off, “we’re, uh—officially engineers now, right? or, mad scientists? mad engineers? built something that works and almost died doing it.”

“sounds about right,” he mumbles, eyes not quite meeting yours.

you step back fully, brushing imaginary lint off your sleeves. he clears his throat and bends to pick up the pen—just a little too quickly.

“we should, uh…” he gestures vaguely at the wires. “log this. before we forget what we changed.”

“yeah,” you nod. “documentation. good. yep. very sexy.”

he snorts.

and the tension cracks just enough for both of you to breathe again.

✧✧✧

friday lunch.

same table.

you’re there first, as usual—tray to the left, elbow room cleared, and your little “project napkin” tucked just out of sight beneath your phone.

it’s not schematics, not exactly. more like an outline of “natural” movements. lean angles. average post-meal proximity. potential trigger phrases that could ease the moment into something more than just eye contact and banter.

it’s stupid. it’s excessive. it’s so you.

but it’s not like you’ve kissed him yet.

and it’s not like you haven’t thought about it. a lot.

he slides into the seat across from you—slightly out of breath, hoodie slightly askew.

“hey,” he says. “sorry, i ran into a professor who wouldn’t stop talking about his cat’s gut biome.”

you snort. “sounds riveting.”

“almost kissed him out of pity.”

you choke on a bite of salad. “what?”

“nothing,” he mumbles, sipping chocolate milk. “just—brain fried. bad sleep. lots of… thinking.”

you nod. you get that.

you were up half the night replaying yesterday’s hug on a loop. you hadn’t meant to squeeze him that tight. hadn’t meant to say “good job, genius” like that. hadn’t meant for your fingers to linger on his hoodie hem when you stepped back.

but he hadn’t pulled away.

so.

you both eat in silence for a minute. your foot brushes his under the table. once. twice.

neither of you moves.

finally, you say it. quiet. almost like a confession.

“i, uh… may have tried to engineer a perfect kiss scenario today.”

he freezes, sandwich halfway to his mouth.

“...engineer?”

you nod, cheeks warm. “like… ran a few simulations in my head. built a model. set parameters. i was…probably gonna initiate if you laughed three or more times by the end of lunch.”

his jaw drops. “are you serious?”

“extremely.”

he blinks. “because i wrote a whole conditional loop for this.”

“…what?”

he fumbles in his hoodie pocket and pulls out a sticky note. it reads:

python: if eyes_hold >= 3.5 and cafeteria_noise == low: lean_in()

you stare at it.

then back at him.

and burst out laughing. “we’re so stupid.”

“no,” he says, laughing too. “we’re scientists.”

“why can’t we just communicate like normal people?”

“who needs normal?”

he’s still smiling.

you are too.

and this time?

there’s no plan. no diagram. no if/then logic.

you just… lean in. and he meets you halfway.

your noses bump. just slightly. your knees knock beneath the table. it’s clumsy at first—uncoordinated, like every group project you’ve ever had to rescue last-minute.

but then his hand grazes your wrist. your mouth fits against his like it already knew how. like maybe, all along, this wasn’t something to calculate.

it just needed to happen.

and suddenly, none of it feels theoretical. not the way his lips press softly, then more certainly. not the quiet exhale he lets out when you shift just a little closer. not the way your fingers curl in the fabric of his hoodie like you’ve done it a hundred times.

no flowchart could’ve planned this.

it’s instinct. it’s connection. it's human.

it’s easy.

you pull back first. slow. breath caught somewhere behind your grin.

but before you can say anything—

he leans back in. less hesitant this time.

his hand cradles the side of your neck, thumb brushing just beneath your jaw. his mouth meets yours like a spark catching on dry kindling—familiar, but heady. deliberate. like he’s trying to commit it to memory. like he’s making up for every time he could’ve kissed you and didn’t.

your heart stutters. your fingers grip the edge of the table.

he tastes like chocolate milk and lip balm and something stupidly addictive.

when you part again—barely—you stay close, noses brushing, breath mingling.

“you’re gonna break my brain,” he whispers.

you grin. “then i guess i'll be the one to tutor you.”

his laugh is low and warm and very, very fond.

“deal.”

#vuewrites #jschlatt #schlatt #jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #jschlatt headcanons #schlatt headcanons #jschlatt imagines #schlatt imagines #jschlatt x you #schlatt x you

201 notes · View notes

stargazedwinchester · 6 months ago

Text

The Stars Told Me About You ♡ Dean

Summary: Dean confesses his feelings for you. Word Count: 647

Dean parks the Impala outside of the entrance of the motel, the neon sign flickering just enough for you to notice if you stare at it long enough. It’s late, so the drive back to the motel started off full of banter and conversation, for it to die down only an hour into the drive. This hunt included yourself and Dean. Sam stayed back due to needing to do more research involving another case.

Dean turns the engine off, the Impala hums gently as it settles down for the night. The night is still bright. Countless stars pin themselves with the indigo shades that decorate the sky. The hunt went exceptionally well… maybe a little too well. Yourself and Dean know that you both work extremely well together, possibly more so with Sam. But being able to share private time with Dean proves that hunting with one of them is much easier than hunting with both.

Dean sighs deeply, rubbing his eyes then brushing his hands over his face. You yawn, and Dean looks over at you. He looks as if he wants to say something, but is unsure where to start. You look back at him, a smile forming on your face. “What?” You question, and he shakes his head. “Nothin’,” he hesitates, “y’know, it’s a lot easier hunting when I know you’re around.” His eyes gleam at you, surprisingly you can see how bright and gorgeous his eyes are in such dim light. “Don’t get me wrong, Sammy is great too, but…” Dean trails, running a hand through his hair. “I appreciate your help. A lot.”

“Thanks, Dean. You’re not too bad yourself.” You chuckle. Dean’s eyes are still on you. A small smirk grows on his face, his plump lips framing his face perfectly. “I’ve got your back, no matter what. Always.” He stalls, and the air fills with an unexpected stillness. Dean’s sudden sincerity is unsettling; he’s usually laid-back after a short hunt. He would typically head straight to bed, but at this moment, you sense something is amiss.

You’re finding it difficult to look anywhere but directly at Dean, his shining eyes scanning your face, absorbing your beauty and even the smallest features that only Dean knows to love. He inches closer, placing a hand on the bottom of your jawline, his thumb rubbing over your cheek. “I really like you, Y/N,” he breathes, “Like, really.” He states, glancing down at your lips. Your hearts racing, instantly wanting to reciprocate your feelings to him. Your childlike smile previews your genuine passion for Dean, seeing how he’s let his guard down to let you know how he truly feels makes you wonder how long he’s felt this way. You can tell he cares, he’ll still want to protect you no matter the cost, but now, it’s different.

You graze your top lip with his bottom one, feeling a slight gasp coming from him. Dean latches on and pulls you closer for a soft, passionate kiss. It feels like the butterflies in your stomach have escaped and somehow travelled to your head; the endorphins exploding like a thousand tiny fireworks. You caress his cheekbone, you can feel he’s tense, as if he’s never done this before. You pull away, but keep your lips close to his, the tips of your noses touching. “Relax,” you hush, placing a delicate peck on his lips, and he lets out a breathy sigh. “You make me nervous, man,” Dean half-jokes, his nervous chuckle makes you smile. You kiss him once more before moving away. “Come on, let’s go inside.” You open the passenger side door, then turn around and glance at Dean, who’s still sitting in the driver’s side. “You can stay with me tonight.”

Dean’s eyes light up like a kid in a candy store, before rushing to exit the vehicle and join you in your room.

#supernatural #supernatural imagines #spn #spn imagines #dean winchester #dean winchester imagines #supernatural imagine #spn imagine #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester fluff

341 notes · View notes

ssour-apathyy · 5 months ago

Text

✧˚ · . mechanic!vi x streetracer!reader headcannons

a/n; this is actually probably really bad but i've been stuck at work with nothing to do except think about Vi, so. is this even headcannons? is this a drabble? WHO KNOWS, because it's not me

𖤐 the second you pulled up to her shop ranting and raving about the blown head gasket on your E30 M3, talking like a mechanic yourself, she was rendered speechless

𖤐 she's so used to pretty girls arriving who are the clueless "can i get premium air?🥺" types that she has to pinch herself to make sure this isn't a dream

𖤐 it took you waving your hand in front of her face with a raised eyebrow for her to snap back to reality, clearing her throat with a light dusting of pink on her cheeks as she takes a closer look

𖤐 the poor girl almost passed out when you said that you were considering swapping the engine for an M20 anyway

𖤐 you guys had stood and discussed the engine swap for a full hour, poking around the engine bay to make sure that everything was compatible, before she had convinced you that you absolutely have to turbocharge it. it would be a crime not to

𖤐 since Vi gets parts at a cheaper price than retail, it would have been rude of her not to offer to get everything delivered to her shop for you. that was definitely the reason. not because she wanted to see more of you your car

𖤐 so after she closed the shop, you stayed for a bit. both of you huddled in front of the computer monitor, browsing for upgrades that would work with your setup. she even found a second hand engine not far, haggled the price down AND took you to collect it in her pickup. isn't she sweet?

𖤐 you kept coming back day after day to work on the car, and Vi found herself getting distracted by the sight of you stripping and re-building the engine. so much so, that she put a pause on accepting new customers just so she could give you a hand

𖤐 the two of you had settled into a routine, spending the majority of the day working on the car and flirting up an absolute storm with each other, getting takeout in the evening (you took turns in choosing), before bidding each other goodnight

𖤐 she actually found herself disappointed when the build was finished, and maybe she considered sabotaging something just so you would stay longer (sue her)

𖤐 she tried to refuse payment from you, but it took just one expression of 'absolutely the fuck not' before she settled on just charging the cost of the parts

𖤐 "well, speed racer, you ever blow up another engine, you know where to find me" she had said once you had everything ready to leave, and she couldn't even hide the sadness in her voice behind the thin layer of teasing

𖤐 and she swears that she actually died for a moment when you reply with "sure. or i could come back at, say, 7 tomorrow and we can go get actual dinner somewhere nice? my treat"

𖤐 and if she did a little happy dance after the dust left by your wheels had settled, it's nobody's fucking business

#𖤐 ssour-apathyy.#✧ katt scratch.#vi x reader #mechanic!vi #modern au #arcane #arcane vi #vi arcane

232 notes · View notes

powderpinkprincess · 4 months ago

Text

Arrested II. [Lando Norris x reader] 16+

find part one here some of you wanted to know why exactly Y/N got herself arrested, so I went back and asked her - things take a little darker turn from here description: You finally give Lando an explanation. warnings: massive bad language, mentions of substance abuse, mentions of family abandonment

your backstory for this is the same as in Issues: Your Dad is a rally driver, and your Mom is a model. As their only child, they have always wanted you to follow their routes, so ever since your childhood you’ve been modelling. However, when you were 8, your parents got separated, and your Mom left you to live with your Dad pretty much from one day to another. You met Lando through your Dad when you were 18. Back then, you were setting unreasonably high bars for yourself in modelling, hoping to get back your Mom. After some time of dating, Lando asked you to leave that life behind and move to Monaco with him, hoping that you would finally start to heal in a new environment.

Lando was silent while you reached his car that was parked outside the police station. He unlocked the McLaren and held the door open for you, gesturing to get in. Then he got into the driver’s seat and closed to door before turning to look at you. “So, you wanna tell me what the hell was going through your head? Seriously.”

You stared back at him in stubborn silence.

He sighed. “Alright, we can play this game. It won’t lead anywhere you probably want to.” He started the engine and was ready to pull out of the parking lot when you decided to speak.

“Originally, I wanted to break the guy’s face,” you mumbled.

Lando’s hands fell from the steering wheel as his glance snapped back at you, clear disbelief on his face. “Okay, so breaking the guy’s car was the next best thing then? Just for the record, you do realize how stupid this whole situation is, right?” he asked, starting to get worked up again. “What the hell could that guy have even done for you to react so irrationally?”

“Well, I just as well could have burnt his house down,” you shrugged, staring out the window. “His car was his weakest point, though. Just tested the durability.”

Lando couldn’t believe his ears. Just tested the durability? This was probably one of the worst, craziest days he ever lived through. What on earth were you even on about?!

“So destroying other people’s property seems perfectly reasonable to you?“ he asked.” “What about talking things out? Or just, I don’t know, walking away? Cause this way, it cost me a fortune to not let them put you in fucking jail! Did you even think for a second what it would be like if they did lock you up for a year?!”

His anger was only fuelling yours. You didn’t even want him to know about this at all in the first place. You didn’t want anyone to know about it. Maybe a secret arson at nighttime would’ve been a better idea. You took a deep breath.

“Oh, for fucks sake!” you spat out. “He made a bet to destroy your whole career!”

Lando’s expression changed. You scrunched your eyes, hoping you could read his face better, but there was no use. He kept a perfect poker face.

“Pardon me,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “He did what?”

“Yes, you would’ve watched the next race weekend from your laptop,” you nodded and crossed your arms.

“How do you even know that?” Lando asked, trying to keep his cool, but you could hear the anger in his voice.

“That’s- Besides the point,” you mumbled.

Lando couldn't help but scoff at that. “No, it's not. Answer the goddamn question. How do you know that, Y/N?”

You remained silent. The growing silence in the car was tense, and Lando's jaw was clenched tightly. He gripped the steering wheel tightly to somehow ground himself in this insane situation. “Y/N,” he pressed, “I'm waiting for an answer.”

"I know," you whispered.

"So you're gonna keep me in suspense?" Lando asked sarcastically. "Do I have to force it out of you, or will you just tell me what's going on?" the tone of his voice is harsher than necessary.

"Jesus, aren't you violent," you mumbled.

Lando took a deep breath in a desperate attempt to remain calm, but his patience was running very thin. "Don't pull that card on me right now. You’ve just been arrested, and I paid a huge sum of money to bail you out, and you can't even give me a straight answer to my question.”

You clenched your jaw. “I overheard it.”

Lando’s fingers curled tighter around the steering wheel. “Where?”

You hesitated. “Does it matter?”

“Yes, it fucking matters,” he bit out. “You don’t get to destroy a goddamn car, get arrested, and then tell me it doesn’t matter.”

You stayed quiet, and he scoffed when you didn’t answer. “Unbelievable.”

You hesitated. You didn’t want to fill him into this part. You really didn’t. But if there was one thing you knew about Lando Norris, it was that he didn’t let things go. And if it turned out later than right now, the situation would be so much worse.

“I was there because of Dani,” you whispered.

The name alone made Lando’s expression twist into something furious and exasperated all at once. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Lando hated her. He hated her so much. If he had the power, he would’ve made sure you never saw her in your life ever again, but he couldn’t make that decision for you. She was your friend for some fucked up reason.

When you moved to Monaco with him, he made you promise you would never use again. He met you when you were living in London, working at a modelling agency that was ready to destroy you. It broke his heart to see how your self-confidence depended on some stupid white powder, and it infuriated him even more how accepted that was in the circle you were in. He thought he saved you by making you move to Monte Carlo with him. You found some awesome friends there, but then you met her. Dani. The walking red flag.

“She didn’t want to go alone,” you defended quickly. “And I-”

“And you what? Decided that walking straight into a fucking coke dealer’s place was a solid life choice?!” Lando’s voice was sharp now, his control slipping. So, was this the reason you were so much against taking that damn drug test when the officer asked you to?

He was furious, but you held your ground. “I didn’t buy anything! I just-”

“You just what, Y/N? Just walked her in for moral support? Just sat there while she handed cash for the same crap that nearly ruined your life?!”

You bit the inside of your cheek, anger and guilt filling you at his words.

Lando laughed, but it was hollow, bitter. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

“I didn’t do anything,” you snapped, glaring at him.

He smacked his palm against the steering wheel in frustration. “But you went there! You put yourself in that situation, with her, with him- With the same shit that kept you hooked for over a year!”

Your chest tightened. “I was trying to look out for her.”

Lando gave you a look so sharp it could cut glass. “And who the fuck was looking out for you?”

You sucked in a breath, but no words came.

He exhaled, shaking his head. “Jesus Christ, Y/N.” His voice was quieter now, but somehow, that was worse.

You stared out the window, the weight of his disappointment heavier than anything else in the car. For a long moment, the only sound was the steady hum of the engine.

Then Lando spoke again, voice low and restrained. His fingers tapped against the wheel in a slow, deliberate rhythm. “So, you went with Dani to buy coke. From that guy. The same guy who - on top of dealing - just so happens to have enough power to fuck me over in F1.”

You swallowed. “Yes.”

Lando nodded slowly, like he was processing just how stupid this entire situation was. “And instead of just walking away, you decided that the most rational response was to completely destroy his car.”

Your jaw clenched. “Yes.”

Silence.

Lando’s breathing had slowed. Too slow. You could see the calculations running through his head, the way he was processing every word you just said. For a long moment, he didn’t respond. His fingers were still locked around the steering wheel, his jaw so tight you thought he might break a tooth. Then, finally, he let out a humorless chuckle.

“So, what? You thought if you keyed his car like a pissed-off ex-girlfriend, he’d suddenly fear you? That he’d back off?”

You crossed your arms. “No. I thought that if he was willing to screw you over for a bet, then maybe losing something expensive and important to him would make him think twice.”

Lando rubbed his face with a tired sigh. “Jesus, Y/N.”

You turned away, staring out the window. “I don’t regret it. I wasn’t gonna let them take everything from you, Lando.”

He sighed, shaking his head again before refocusing on the empty parking space in front of him. “You’re unbelievable.”

A long pause. Then, quietly, almost like he didn’t really want to ask, Lando said, “Do you still use sometimes?”

Your stomach twisted. “No.”

Another beat of silence.

“Do you swear?”

You turned to look at him, his expression unreadable.

“I swear.”

Lando nodded, exhaling slowly. “Good.”

Neither of you spoke for a while. But the silence, for once, didn’t feel so suffocating.

#f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando x reader #ln4 x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando x y/n #ln4 x y/n

140 notes · View notes

jiraisupportgroup · 4 months ago

Text

♡ Hi guys ♡

I don’t really even know how to open this but I am in a really bad spot. My apartment complex is going to tow my car unless I get the tags updated. It is a 2007 BMW, it will not pass inspection & emissions until I fix the issue with the engine’s thermostat ($561.97) and replace some valve covers that are improperly mounted ($966.07). I only include the fact that it’s a bmw to explain why the cost of repairs is so high. They only gave me 24 hours notice /:

I’m having to keep my car out of my apartment complex so they can’t tow it and take time off of work to get it into a shop since it’s the only way I have to get to & from work. Currently I’m still about $400 away from having enough money to get it fixed but I don’t have the money for that and my monthly bills; I cut it really close every month as it is. I’m not sure what’s going to happen or how any of this is going to shake out, the only thing I know right now is I can’t afford this and my bills :(

I feel guilty for asking but if anyone has any spare anything it would mean the absolute world to me T-T I really really need some help right now.

If you are able and want to, donating even just $1 to my Ko-Fi would help me out so so much ♡

Obviously no pressure and please do not feel obligated. I hate asking for money but I’m unfortunately out of options at the moment.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ thank you guys for putting up with me T-T

#Mara is desperate at this point #mara is yapping #jiraiblr #landmineblr #jirai kei #landmine kei #ko fi page

191 notes · View notes

frost-queen · 7 months ago

Text

Hot tub (Reader x JJ Maybank)

Requested by: @p0nycurtis, Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @floatlosers, @alex--awesome--22 @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildiefleur , @meyocoko , @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedrava-bitch-187, @erikasurfer , @slythetic , @eliscannotdance

“Look let’s just find JJ and get this over with.” – Kiara spoke, looking over her shoulder to Pope and you. The three of you walked up the driveway. Kiara furrowing her brows when she noticed lots of lights coming from his front yard. – “What the…” – she mumbled underneath her breath. Pope had an interesting view of it too.

Looking confused around to the decoration lights like it was Christmas. Kiara hurried a bit up once she saw the huge thing in his front yard. Unable to miss the hot tub taking up so much place. Inside sat JJ, enjoying the warm water.

You rushed after Pope to reach the hot tub. JJ took the sunglasses a bit down. Eyeing his friends that came standing before him with shock. – “JJ what did you do?” – Pope asked. Gawking at the hot tub in disbelieve. JJ chuckled drunkenly. – “I got a jet going straight up my butt right now.”

It was clear he had been drinking. Certainly to see from the bottles of champagne standing in a floaty around him. – “Ya’ll should get in quickly.” – he continued, bringing a floaty with a bottle closer to him.

Kiara couldn’t stop herself from staring in disbelieve at him. Watching a JJ poorly poured some champagne in two plastic glasses. – “Do you hear me?” – He spoke when no response came. – “Hello!” – calling out for any attention.

Holding a glass up. – “How much did this cost?” – was the only burning question on Pope’s mind. JJ pulled the bottle of champagne down with a drunk chuckle. – “Uhm… well… with the generator, express deliver…” – he explained pointing around.

Kiara couldn’t stop looking around, still trying to hold on to the thought it wasn’t real. That hopefully this was all just a bad dream. You had a sense of what was coming next. Slightly whispering to yourself that he could still prove you wrong. – “Pretty much everything.” – he ended as the final blow was taken.

Pope’s jaw dropped. – “All of it.” – he said trying to wrap his mind around it. – “You spend all of it in one day.” – he finished. – “Pope…” – you said touching his arm to go easy. Pope pulled his arm away, too upset to listen to reason.

“Yeah burned a hole right through my pocket.” – JJ answered, not helping one bit with his case. It made you look up to the heavens, pleadingly. – “But come on guys look at this.” – his voice shrieked a bit higher as he brought the floaties closer to him.

Kiara kept staring in disgust at him. Something he quickly caught up on that he was being judged. – “Kie come one!” – he called out. – “Can’t a man have some luxury in life?” – he pleaded with no success.

Kiara shook her head, crossing her arms. – “Come on, honest all this scraping and struggling…” – his behaviour changing trying to maintain control over not losing his mind.

You noticed it. Saw him struggle to keep himself strong. You knew JJ. He wouldn’t do something this reckless unless something had truly shaken him up. – “You… you only live once right? Enough of this emotional shit, get in.” – he finished toughening up.

“JJ.” – you said coming closer to the tub. – “Y/n come on in, I’ve saved a special spot for you.” – he replied shoving a floaty aside. – “Y/n don’t encourage him.” – Pope told you. You glanced over your shoulder to him with a glare. – “Oh I almost forgot.” – JJ cut through.

Pressing a button as lights flashed on. An engine making a sound as water started to spray from one side to another. – “Yeah I know, disco mode.” – JJ called out with so much happiness. – “Are you kidding me!” – Pope shouted as JJ’s smile faltered.

“You could’ve paid for restitution.” – Pope blamed him. – “Or literally given it to charity!” – Kiara shouted along. – “Just stop!” – you yelled, turning around to them. – “Don’t defend him now Y/n!” – Kiara called back to you.

“I’m not, but yelling at him isn’t going to do any good. It’s not going to change anything. Maybe you should take a second and actually act like a friend than parent him Kie!” – you fired back without any shame.

Having enough of their parental talk towards him like he is a child that needs scolding. Kiara scoffed loud, turning her posture a bit away. – “So what you just want to pat him on the back and tell him it’s okay that he spend all of our money on a stupid hot tub!” – Kiara shouted back.

Pope tried to interfere, maintain some decency. JJ was pinching his nose bridge, close to lose his temper with all this shouting. – “Okay well I didn’t do that!” – he shouted getting up.

Your eyes immediately fell on the bruises on his chest. Knowing what it meant. Luke hadn’t kept his hands to himself. – “I got a hot tub for my friends!” – he called out trying so hard not to breakdown.

“No… you know what screw friends… for my family.” – he corrected himself. You climbed into the hot tub, not caring that you were getting wet. – “JJ what happened?” – Kiara asked shockingly. – “Look at this! Look at this Y/n.” – he said looking around.

You pushed his arm down, coming nearer to him. Wrapping your arms around him. The moment your arms were around him, he started sobbing loud. Burying his face in the nook of your neck. Hugging him tighter, barely able to withhold your own tears.

“I’m going to kill him.” – you whispered to JJ. Letting him know you weren’t going to let Luke off the hook so easily. He sobbed even louder, holding on tight to you. The only lifeboat he had in an endless sea.

“I’m sorry…” – he cried out to you. Regretting his action with the money. – “It’s okay.” – you reassured him. Giving him a kiss in his neck to let him know you were here. That you were always here for him. You felt him shudder against your body, embracing you tighter.

Leaning a bit back with your head, you cupped his cheeks, letting him meet with your eye level. Moving some of his hair aside. Wiping his cheeks dry from the tears. – “You’ll stay with me from now on.” – you told him. – “Your mom…” - he sputtered out with a sob, guessing what she would say.

“Would welcome you with open arms.” – you told him, wanting him to look you in the eye. He curled up a faint smile. You kissed his cheek, making him smile just that bit more. Taking his hand you guided him down.

Forcing him to sit in the hot tub with you. – “Now where was that jet going straight up your butt.” – you told him hearing him chuckle. He moved a bit away, allowing you to sit there.

You looked over at Pope, nodding to him that it was alright. That you had him. Pope nodded back, taking Kiara by the arm. – “Are you just going to leave them like this?” – Kiara called out. Pope kept pulling at her to give you some privacy. JJ sniffed loud, wiping some wetness of his face.

“I know you are trying to make me feel better Y/n.” – he said splashing some water away. – “Well you got us a hot tub, I might as well enjoy it.” – you answered looking up to him. JJ chuckled slowly turning his head. His smile freezing when his gaze entangled with yours.

Slowly fading and changing into adoration. Sensing what was going through you, probably was going through him as well. A desire to kiss each other. For unspoken feelings to be declared. JJ moved closer to you, lifting his hands up from the water to cup your face.

“I wouldn’t know what to do without you.” – he whispered to you. – “Then stay with me.” – you whispered back. Eyes closing, you decreased the space between you. Allowing your lips to touch. To touch for the first time with such intensity it made your heart burst into a million butterflies.

-------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

302 notes · View notes

stellewriites · 23 days ago

Text

every minute, every hour, every day

trans!butch!simon x reader, pure fluff & comfort

part of @fairyboygenius’ sapphic week prompts! was very excited to take part in this :3

chosen prompt: june 20th u-haul & butchify a cod character

it felt like the world was against you moving in with si.

you could only take so many coincidences before you started seeing a pattern and that morning, there had been enough to count on both hands.

the truck had been a nightmare to organise in the first place when the company fucked up your booking date last minute and refused to give you a truck in the morning until si threatened to come down there and give them a piece of her mind.

after heavily censoring a message from si to the desk clerk, you were able to get a truck, just a good hour and a half later than planned. it was also clearly an older model, not that you or si would care, but you sniffed at how much it’d be costing you.

you’d then trapped your hand under the heavy sofa when you’d tried to help si lift it onto the u-haul truck, yelping in pain until she was able to ease it off again and you could slip it close to your chest protectively with a wince. she’d checked it over and wrapped it as soon as you were back upstairs in your flat with the first aid kit, but the ache stayed for the rest of the day.

after hoping that would be the end of your bad luck, si had tried carrying your record player you’d found at a garage sale along with two heavy boxes down the stairs to save time after your injury had you flagging. and despite your several warnings to go careful and offerings to still help, she promised she was capable so you left her be. those promises turned stale in her mouth when she tripped on the last step of the stairs and your record player went flying out of the wedged-open front door, smashing on the pavement.

you’d found her a few minutes later knelt and picking up the pieces with wide, worried eyes and you could only sigh, forcefully slow, through your nose.

when you finally had everything packed up and the keys returned to your now ex-landlord, you both got into the car with giddy smiles only to find that the a/c wasn’t working anymore.

you flicked at the buttons and temperature gauge until si shooed your hands away to do the same. you could’ve sworn it had worked on the drive over from the depot.

with no other option, the pair of you shrugged and set off with the windows wound all the way down instead.

no a/c wouldn’t be an issue on your average british day, even in the summer, but there had been an unexpected heatwave over the last week - fuck you climate change - and the pair of you were sweating buckets only ten minutes into the journey.

yeah, it really felt like everything was against you and the move.

not five minutes later, si pulled over into a sainsbury’s car park and hauled herself out with a huff, leaving you sat in the greenhouse of a front cab without a word. you frowned and waited her out, messing around with the music on your phone until you found a summer playlist from seven or so years back. there were a few old favourites you’d forgotten about and you tapped your foot along to them.

suddenly something cold landed on your legs and you sucked in a sharp breath as you picked it up reflexively.

a calippo…

your favourite ice lolly and just what you needed right then.

you grinned across at si and leant in for a chaste kiss, tasting the sweat from her upper lip despite the caution.

“thank you.”

she shrugged and stuck her unwrapped twister in her mouth before turning the engine back on and setting off back on the road.

you cut your eyes across to your girlfriend when you heard her humming along to a song and bit your lip to keep your smile from becoming too obvious. you knew this game.

if you waited her out without paying too much attention, she’d be singing at the top of her lungs in no time, but if you made a fuss too soon then she’d recede into her shell.

you started to sing along lightly, skipping a few lines here and there when you didn’t know them and to make sure si was getting louder alongside you.

you grinned and reached over to squeeze her thigh when your patience paid off and she started to sing off key with confidence, her voice harmonising in a cackle with yours as she drove along, your voices drowning out the music even as you sang the wrong lyrics.

the pair of you laughed when the song came to an end and at the first sign of a red light, she was leaning over to taste your orange ice lolly on your tongue.

the drive went a lot quicker after that. and unpacking went a lot smoother once you got to your new house, even with you insisting you could still help with your injured hand.

si made sure to stop what she was doing and kiss your knuckles gently every time she saw your face twist in pain when you put down another box in the living room.

you cooed and pouted until she’d lean in and kiss your lips too, snuggling into her chest when she went to kiss your crown as a third and final signature of love as you worked to put together your new home.

you watched her longingly in the evening when she tried to find the plates and cutlery in the incorrectly labelled boxes after you ordered takeaway for dinner. you knew then and there that you’d be spending the rest of your life with her if you had any say, no matter how many obstacles tried to get in your way.

“think we’ll have to use our ‘ands,” she hummed, defeated. her hands were on his hips as she looked over the boxes she was sure she’d packed them away in yesterday. a stray thought came to mind that if those had gone missing then god knows where her oestrogel was packed away among all of this; she’d need to find that again by morning.

you squeezed her around her waist tightly and smiled goofily into her sweaty shoulder.

at the press of teeth she peeked over her shoulder at you. “y’better not bite me.”

“no promises,” you whispered cheekily, but you only kissed her shoulder sweetly and sighed. “i love you so much.”

#such a fun prompt list maisie!!!! thank you for tagging and including me!!#maisie’s sapphic week 2025 #i don’t think i have to point it out bc u guys are smart but just in case it’s not actually as obvious as i thought it was when writing it #i wrote this as a mirror? like the issues that arise get solved in reverse - so every hurdle or mistake then has a happy moment to #replace it by the end of the fic :’)#it’s like that saying about wait and see when it comes to luck. reader was in her head about the world being against them but by the end sh #knew this was exactly where she was meant to be and was willing to fight for it even on the odd chance the world was against it (which it #wasn’t duh. it was just stress and nerves making those mistakes happen)#butch simon #we don’t have u-haul here so i had to do some consulting so if this feels like a weird mix of Where is this set - us or uk? it’d both #realised i’d not written trans 141 in the butchverse so here we go!#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #wrote this in one sitting and i was yearningggggg #trans simon riley #trans ghost #trans cod #trans woman simon riley #stelle writes n that

109 notes · View notes

secretlysamcro · 6 months ago

Text

Female reader x Jax teller MAJOR SPOILERS! Violence (pregnancy) & Explicit language If you're under the age of 18. haven't finished the show or dislike any of said topics, please read no further.

Request: "The reader is Jax’s old lady and an rival club finds this out and kidnaps the reader using her for lovage against the sons, the reader is pregnant and hasn’t told Jax yet and when he comes to save her she gets injured and taken to the hospital during that he’s finds out and they get to see the baby for the first time together"

Backstory: The tension between the club and the Irish has been brewing for weeks now. Jax pushing to sever all ties with the IRA. Jax is determined to do so in order to protect his club and his family, no matter the cost. Galen on the other hand, isn't ready to let go of the SAMCRO connection so easily. He needs Clay out of prison, and the only people he knows that will get it done is the Sons. He knows Jax won't help him willingly, but he knows the one thing that Jax would do anything for, is you.

“Just one more” he says his voice low and steady, hanging in the doorway like he doesn’t want to leave. His hand wraps around yours, brushing his rough thumb over your knuckles as he closes the space between you once again. The kiss slow and smooth, making it last.

“Jax, go” you laugh, shoving him away playfully, even though part of you wants him to stay. You know he needs to be at the clubhouse. There’s a lot of shit going on at the moment, but as his old lady, you’re only told the stuff he chooses to tell you, the rest is a mystery.

He grins, giving you one last look before jogging down the steps, his trainers thudding against the concrete. The roar of his Dyna filling the air as he takes off down the road.

Your hand drifts to your stomach, cradling the secret you’ve been carrying. The new life you’ve both created. Tonight was the night you were finally going to tell him.

You’d had your suspicions for a while, the doubt creeping in until that one morning when they were confirmed by the positive test. Even then, the shock hit you like a punch. For the most part, you wanted to run to Jax, to tell him right then and there, but you knew it wasn’t the right time. He’d been carrying so much on his shoulders lately, stress from the club, the Irish deal that seemed to be falling apart. The last thing he needed was more pressure.

“Yeah, I’ve got eyes on her now” one of Galen's men says, his Irish accent thick as ever. “I’m sure... he’s just left, she’s home al-...”

You step out of the house in your comfy sweats, car keys and phone in hand. You get into your car, sorting yourself out before starting the engine, completely oblivious to the eyes tracking your every move.

“...Change of plan boss, she’s on the move” He watches your car pull off, tracking your every turn as you head down the street.

Jax sits at the head of the table, the presidential gavel in hand. “All in favour of the Sons breaking ties with the IRA?” he announces, Chibs already shaking his head, aware of the storm brewing.

“This is a bad idea Jackie boy” the VP warns, his voice tight with concern. “Galen’s a bloody butcher, and the IRA? they aint letting us go that easy” he says, Jax shooting him a look as if to say ‘do what I fucking say’ Chibs, screws his face in stubbornness. “Aye” he reluctantly spits out.

Jax bangs the gavel as the vote comes in as a yes. The other members leaving the room, Chibs staying behind. His eyes fixed on Jax.

“This is the only way we get out of this cartel mess” Jax says, his voice firm, truly believing this is the right move.

Chibs crosses his arms, his gaze still steady. “I really hope you’ve got a plan, Jackie” he says, the weight of the situation hanging heavy in his words.

“They’ll have to do it” Galen speaks down the phone.

“He’ll do anything I need him to” he looks down to the floor, clearly frustrated “I’m getting him out...tomorrow” he says, before hanging up the phone.

“You really think the sons can pull this off?” Connor questions, his voice sounding doubtful, clearly concerned about where their ties land.

Galen looks him up and down, his gaze cold and calculating. “They don’t have much of a choice” he says, “but I don’t trust Jackson, not after what went down with Father Ashby, God bless his soul” he makes the sign of the cross as he continues speaking “I need Clay out, and I need him out, now”. “And when he gets out, what's his plan? You know the Sons aren't taking him back” Connor states, the doubtful tone still evident.

Galen glances towards him, the corners of his mouth tightening at the frequent questioning “Clay’s heading to Ireland, He’s planning to set up his own charter, make his own way” He then goes into his pocket, to grab the burner phone that’s ringing. “Aye” he says, answering the call.

“We’ve got her” the line hangs up.

Jax and the club are still at the clubhouse. Jax sits at the bar, Chibs beside him. A text flashes on his phone from a burner number.

Unknown Number: Meet @ warehouse 13.00 -G

Jax looks up, his eyes sharp. “Galen wants us at the warehouse. Be ready to move” he tells everyone, making sure they're all prepared.

“Aye, but what for Jackie?” Chibs questions, not realising they would be facing Galen again so soon.

“I guess we’re gonna find out” Jax mumbles as he begins to text, not Galen though, you.

Jax: Hey babe. b home later than I thought. wait up 4 me. love u.

The guys ride in one by one, Jax leading the way as always, followed by his VP and then the rest of the crew. The warehouse looks empty, spookily quite in fact. Until the doors groan open. Inside, Galen, Connor and a few more of the Irish stand waiting.

Jax steps forward, entering first. His voice laced with sarcasm. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?” The footsteps of the others following close behind.

Galen offers a distant nod, his smile stiff as usual. “Things have changed Jackson” he says, no trace of regret coming from him.

“Hey, if we’ve got some kind of beef lets throw it on the table” he says, his voice sharp.

Galen looks away, almost amused before responding “Don’t be so sensitive Laddy”

Jax snaps, “Grow some balls, you Irish prick” his tone, still unwavering. The others step closer, sensing something could potentially pop off at any given moment.

Galen pauses for a moment, then steps forward to Jax, the sound of his boots crunching against the gravel. “Alright” he says, “I think you’re arrogant, selfish and explosive...” he begins “...The wreckage you caused in Belfast got a man of God, and my dearest friend killed”

Jax frowns slightly, a confused look spreading across his face “You talkin’ about the priest?” he asks, genuinely puzzled.

“Aye” Galen nods, his voice sounding bitter. “Father Kellan Ashby pulled me off the streets, saved my life” each word dripping with resentment.

Jax smirks, the tension getting thicker. “Gave you the Catholic blessing of the blood...made you Gangsta’ of Christ?” he mocks.

Galen lunges forward, landing a punch directly above Jax’s eyebrow. The whole warehouse erupts into chaos as both sides rush to break them apart.

Jax still smirking as his adrenaline rises shouts “Now we’re making progress!” eager to keep the fight going. The men spill out into the open space in front of the warehouse. The fight continues, both men hitting and being hit, sweat and blood flying with every swing, neither backing down until finally the men watching, pull them apart.

Galen wipes blood from his lip, a twisted smile forming on his face as he looks over to Jax. “Oh, and by the way Jackson…” he says, his voice cold. “…Clay’s getting transported tomorrow. I need you and your club to stop that from happening, and bring him here, to me.” he demands his orders.

Jax laughs, spitting the leftover blood out from his mouth, the confusion spreading across all the faces present. “And why would I do that?” he responds, stunned by Galens audacity.

“Because Jackson...if you don't…” he pulls his phone out, unlocking it calmy before holding it up to show Jax. A woman sitting in a chair, her arms bound and her mouth gagged. The room goes still as Jax works out who the woman in the picture is. “…She dies”. Jax’s expression shifts, the gravity of the situation hitting him.

The air is cold, the darkness surrounds you. Your hands are bound, your mouth gagged as tears trickle down your face, silently sobbing.

Deep down, part of you knew this was always a possibility. Being the lover of the notorious Sons of anarchy president, could you expect any less?

Footsteps approach through the silence, growing closer with each step. Your heart beating in your chest as he comes into view. Sliding into your peripheral vision. His face, now inches from yours. His breath warm against your skin. A sharp calloused finger brushes away your tear. “Cut the shite” he growls, standing tall once again.

“Those tears mean nothing to me” he turns and leans casually against a desk directly across from you. His legs crossed and his arms folded to match.

In a desperate effort, you manage to wriggle the makeshift gag away from your mouth. “what... do you want...from me” you manage to wheeze out, your breathing laboured due to fear.

He stares at you, not a slither of sympathy in his eyes. “I don’t need shite from you” he says, pointing in your face. “It’s your pretty wee lad we’re after”.

"Please, don't hurt me...I'm...I'm pregnant" you practically cry out.

"Well then you better hope, Jackson, does what he's told"...

“You think this is gonna work Jax?” Juice’s voice echoes through the silence. Jax keeps his eyes on the the road, looking through the passenger side window, his jaw clenched. “We don’t have a choice” he wipes a hand across his face. The image of you alone, with the Irish, twists in his gut like a knife. “We stop the van, grab Clay, then hand him over to Galen. It’s that simple” he says, relaying the plan instructed by Connor.

The transportation van was forced off of the road, leaving slight chaos in it’s wake. Juice and Jax were in one van, with Bobby, Tig and Connor trailing close behind in the other. Together, they worked effortlessly, forcing the officers to surrender without much of a fight.

Jax, swinging open the vans back doors to reveal Clay, a slight confused look on his face. Jax takes off his ski mask, a smirk appearing as Clay squints up looking towards Jax, clearly not expecting him. “Where’s the Irish?” he says, realising this isn’t the original plan.

“No Irish” Jax replies, his jaw tense. “Just me”.

The job was done, more or less. The boys had managed to pull it off with only one minor hitch, Bobby had taken a bullet in the process. Jax though, is focused on what matters the most, The trade. Clay needed to be handed over to Galen without delay. Clay, for you.

Jax strides into the warehouse, the club reunited once again. He heads straight for the small office in the back with Chibs and Tig only, the others hanging around behind the door. Inside, Galen stands waiting wearing his usual cocky grin. Jax doesn’t even give him the chance to speak. “You’ll get Clay, when I get y/n” he growls, his voice cold but firm.

Galen smirks, clearly expecting some sort of demand from Jax. He gestures to another Irishman lurking in the corner. The man follows his silent order, slipping out of the room only to return moments later.

He shoves you roughly into the room, you stumble and slam your side into the edge of the cabinet. Jax moves instinctively, about to rush to your side.

“NO!” Galen barks, stopping him from getting any closer. “You’ve seen her, now I want Clay” he spits.

Jax, who’s teeth are snarled, turns around to Tig, giving him a nod. The command clear, go and get Clay. He then looks back to you, sensing the fear rushing through your body. His gaze softens, seeing you in pain, seeing you like this. Your face is bruised, blood smeared across your cheeks. His attention now drawn to how your hands are clutching your stomach protectively.

Tig returns quickly, bringing Clay into the room. The tension is thick as the exchange happens all at one. Clay stepping forward beside Jax, Galen's attention now shifting to him.

You waste no time, you bolt towards Jax, throwing yourself into him. He catches you holding you close, then pulling you away slighting holding onto your shoulders, scanning your entire body for any injuries. “Its okay, y/n” he murmurs, his voice close to a whisper. “I'm so sorry” he says, knowing this is all his fault.

Just behind you, Jax catches Galen's movement. He steps forward, probably about to make some smug comment about the deal, but Jax doesn't wait to find out. “Close your eyes” he whispers into your ear. You barely have time to react as Jax looks over to Chibs and Tig, the three of them exchanging a knowing glance.

Within a second, their guns are drawn. Jax keeps you tightly against him, his free arm acting as a barrier around you as he fires. His bullet lands dead Centre into Galen's forehead, Chibs taking down one Irishman, and Tig dropping the other. The crack of the gunfire makes you scream into Jax’s chest, muffling the sound. Your knees buckle as you drop to the floor. Jax lowering with you, pulling you even closer.

“Jesus christ” Clay mutters, looking around seeing Galen’s lifeless body stretched across the floor. Jax looks over to him. “We had a vote” he says coldly. “This needed to happen” Jax, finally one step closer to cutting ties with the true IRA.

Jax’s eyes catch the way your hand trembles as it moves between your legs. when you pull it away, blood covers your palm. His heart dropping to his stomach as panic flashes across his face. “Shit” he shouts out, looking around the room trying to make sense of the situation.

“Did she get shot?” Tig questions, also trying to work out the cause of the blood. You don't respond right away, staring at your bloodied hands. This was not how you wanted Jax to find out. Your gaze slowly shifting to Jax, the look in your eyes breaking his heart.

“The baby...” you whisper, your voice exhausted

Jaz freezes, along with everybody else in the room. The words replaying in his head. “The... baby?” he echoes, his voice hard to hear.

It’s not anger or frustration but complete shock. However, there's no time for questions. His protective instincts kicking in like a flip of a switch. Jax shouts for Rat, it takes seconds for him to enter. “I need you to take y/n to the hospital NOW!” his tone sharp and commanding.

Rat, looking around the room taking in what has just happened. “What about-” he’s cut short.

“I SAID NOW!” he takes a deep breath, steadying his anger "please, just go now call me when you get there, I’ll catch up”.

You cling to Jax’s kutte as he leans down, cupping your face with both hands. “you’re gonna be fine” he says, his voice steady, even though his heart feels like its ripping apart. He places a kiss to your forehead. “I have to deal with this, but ill be right behind you ok. I promise... I love you” He kisses you again, helping you off the floor and passing you over to Rat.

As Rat leaves with y/n the other members pile into the room. Clay’s eyes follow, a look of resignation spreading across his face. “I guess you had another vote I wasn’t privy to” a short smile plays on his lips, as he realises what's about to happen.

“Yeah, we did” Jax nods his head slowly. “This time it was unanimous” they stare at each other for a while, before Clay finally speaks.

“fair enough” the eye contact lingering on a little longer.

Clay steps back, not fighting it and completely expecting what's to come. He says nothing, just looks at Jax with a hint of understanding. He moves slowly to the other side of the room, bracing himself in the corner. “This good?” he questions, his voice low as he takes one last look at club he used to call family.

“Yeah” Jax says, no feelings in his words what so ever.

Chibs silently steps forward, loading the gun. He hands it to Jax, who takes it with steady hands. Without hesitation he raises the gun, firing one final shot, hitting Clay straight in the neck. Clay falling to his knees, the blood gushing out like a fountain, he's flat on the floor, the life draining from him.

Jax hands the gun back to Chibs. “I’ve got to go” he says, sounding urgent. “You got this?” he asks his VP, making sure that the rest of the plan plays out just as well. Chibs nods, already moving into motion.

As Jax makes his way to his bike, Connor approaches. “Galen still in there?” he asks, completely oblivious to the mayhem behind the doors. Jax’s lips curl into a smile, a darkness forming over him.

“Yeah. He’s not going anywhere” Without waiting for a response, he jumps on his bike, speeding off doing his best to catch up with Rat, y/n and his unborn child.

Jax’s heart pounds through his kutte covered chest, as he pulls into the hospital parking lot. The roar of his bike engine fading as he skids into park. He waste’s no time, pushing through the hospital doors with urgency, the sterile smell hitting him in the face.

His eyes scan through the reception. Rat, sitting nervously in one of the chairs, looks up as Jax approaches, his chest tight with worry.

“Where is she?” he demands to know, the anxiety creeping in.

Rat stands quickly, raising his hand in a calming gesture. “They took her in to check her over” the words rushing out but in a calming manor.

“She's fine, the baby...your baby is fine” he reassures Jax. The weight of those words hit Jax like a wave, for the first time in hours, he allows himself to breath. The tension in his body easing, as he lets out a long shaky breath.

Rat eyes Jax curiously, his expression cautious, not wanting to over step. “How did it go?”

Jax meets his gaze, his voice finally steady. “It’s done”. Rat nods, understanding exactly what Jax is saying, no need for a further explanation.

“The guys probably need you, take my bike, leave the van... and thank you Rat, for getting them here safe” Jax, pats Rat on the back.

Rat looks at Jax, blinking in disbelief. “wait... take your bike?” he repeats the words, unsure if he misheard. “Nobody rides your bike” he adds, still in shock.

A smile curls on Jax’s face, but the warning still stands true. “If you leave a single scratch on it, you’ll be meeting Mr. Mayhem next” he gives Rat a wink, masking the seriousness in his threat.

The gel that the nurse places on your belly is cold, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. Your whole body aches, bruised from the events of earlier today. The relief however, over shadows the pain, you and the baby are fine and that’s all that matters. You try to focus on that, but your mind keeps drifting to Jax, wishing he was here with you.

Just as the thought crosses you mind, the door creaks open. You look up, and there he is, appearing in the doorway.

“Just in time” the sonographer smiles warmly.

“Hey Darlin” Jax murmurs to you, his voice steady with an apologetic look in his eyes. He slides into the chair next to you, leaning over kissing you softly on the lips. He lingers there for a moment longer, grounding himself in the reality that you’re both okay.

“okay, y/n are you ready?” The sonographers voice breaking the silence, her tone gentle as she prepares to scan you. She talks you both through what’s going to happen as she adjusts the machinery. You nod in response as Jax squeezes your hand, his eyes flicking between you, the sonographer and the monitor. His nerves still on edge, unsure of what to expect.

The room falls quiet as the sonographer moves the wand over your belly. The humming from the machine being the only present sound. Your focus shifting to the screen. A tiny unmistakable figure moving ever so slightly. “There’s your baby” she smiles, her presence warm.

“Oh my god” you sigh out, your hand moving to cover your mouth in disbelief. Jax is frozen, his eyes glued to the screen his grip on your hand tightens as it feels like the world has stopped spinning.

“Jax look” you say, looking over at him, admiration in your eyes. Jax is frozen, he blinks hard as his jaw tightens, his mood unreadable.“Jax?” you question, unsure of how he’s feeling.

His rough exterior begins to crack as he leans closer to the screen, his blue eyes shimmering with tears. “Jesus...” he mutters, as he wipes a tear falling down his cheek. He cracks a laugh in disbelief, returning the eye contact now. “That’s our baby” his vulnerable side now showing.

“From the measurements, I’d estimate you’re roughly 12 weeks, at the least” the sonographer speaks gently, her voice breaking into the emotion bubble you're both currently sat in.

“12 weeks” Jax repeats in a whisper, more tears slip down his face as he keeps wiping them away with the back of his hand.

It’s a lot to take in, everything that's happened in the last 48 hours crashing down on him at once. This wasn’t part of the plan, not at all. But as he stares between you and the little baby wriggling on the screen, his heart swells, a new level of protectiveness he has never felt before.

Jax holds the printed scan photo delicatley in one hand, holding you as delicatley around your waist with the other, as you make your way towards the van.

You glance around, noticing something is missing. “No bike?” you ask, confusion creasing your eyebrow.

Jax sighs, a small smirk growing on his lips. “I let Rat ride it back” he says, already regretting his decision

Despite everything thats happened, it’s as if this has shocked you the most. “you what?” you almost shout.

He shrugs, amused by your reaction. “Yeah, well desperate times babe. He knows what will happen if he messes it up” Jax reassures you, whilst trying to also reeassure himself.

You shake your head in disbelief , still trying to process what he’s just told you, as he helps you gently into the van.

The joy of the past hour almost made you forget what had happened earlier. But now, as you sit beside Jax in the van, it all comes rushing back.

The last time you saw him, he wasnt the man gently holding your hand like he is now. He was Jax, the president, Jax the outlaw, pulling the trigger without hesistation. You knew what he was capable of, but seeing it with your own eyes was a different feeling.

Jax notices the small shift in your demeanour and turns to you. “You okay?” he questions.

You nod, your voice on the verge of crying “Just... a lot to... take in” you manage to get out.

He sighs, squeezing your hand. “y/n I am so sorry you had to see that” he says quietly. “I didn’t want you too, but I had no choice” he reassures you, it wasn’t just for fun.

You look at him, his face so calm even though you know the burden he carries is much heavier than he ever lets on.

“I promise you, y/n. I’m getting us out of this” he looks upwards as if trying not to cry “I can’t ever have you, or our baby in a situation like that again… I don’t know what I’d do if…” he tries to catch a breath, you squeeze his hand as an act of comfort.

“I love you Jax, I love all of you, even the club” you breath out a small laugh, wanting him to feel secure. Even though deep down, the thought of your child growing up in this world makes you feel sick to your stomach.

“I love you too y/n, both of you” Jax smiles as he begins driving home, praying that the plan he set in motion, is enough to keep everyone safe.

Photos & gifs do not belong to me. Just edited them together.

Who rewatches scenes to fit them perfectly into their story plot? Yes, it’s me.

Pls pls pls send me some Jax requests, I love writing but when it comes to thinking of something to write, that’s where I go blank!

Jax Teller Masterlist

Also, thank you all so much for your comments & feedback, love u all 🫶🏽

#jax teller #samcro #sons of anarchy #charlie hunnam #jax teller one shot #jax teller x reader #secretly samcro #soa #jax teller imagine #jax x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy fanfiction

254 notes · View notes

old-op-81-lvr · 8 months ago

Text

💪🏻 Death on Two Legs

PhysicalTherapist!Oscar Piastri x Male!reader

F1 X Reader; Role Reversal series Masterlist

Summary: When you get into a pretty horrific crash that costs you the rest of the season Oscar is there to pick up the pieces and help nurse your leg back to health.

CW: car accidents, talks of amputation, crying, screaming, probably inaccurate medical terminology (if anyone wants to correct me on anything I can change please let me know!), swearing (It’s just embedded into my vocab), use of drugs in a medical sense, one mention of foreplay, One mention of sex, content is a bit jumpy and the ending is rushed af but I just wanted to get this out.

A/N: Oscar has a PhD, The timelines don’t line up I am aware. For the sake of this we are pretending he is a child prodigy because I said so.

Sources of information: https://www.healthywa.wa.gov.au/Articles/F_I/Ilizarov-frame,

Your_Username

❤️ 💬 📟 🔖

Liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren and 269k others

Your_Username Boyfriend took a week off work y’all know what that means. Oscar is coming to a race 🥰😍❤️😘💕💖♥️😍🥰

oscarpiastri I think you need more PR training because wtf 😦

Your_Username What? I never said (Or did for that matter) anything sexual, I just love you

oscarpiastri I love you too but what is with the emojis?

mclaren We like Oscar, Oscar keeps you from downing a monster and then wondering why you can hear your own heartbeat

oscarpiastri I feel so loved 😍

User1 Oscar and Admin teaming up against (Y/N) will never not be funny 😭✋

User2 This means we get more videos of “goo-goo eyes” (Y/N) again because you already know Oscar is being dragged everywhere with him this weekend.

“I love you” You said, catching Oscars lips against yours. Whenever he was at a race you had to kiss him before you got in the car, you claimed it was for ‘luck’.

You then pulled your balaclava and your helmet over your head and Oscar kissed the top of your helmet, another thing you insisted he do “I love you too” he responded.

You climbed over the halo of your car and slid into the seat, waving to Oscar as your mechanics guided your car to the grid.

Then it was interviews, reviewing data, the national anthem and then another quick word with Martin Brundle with Sky Sports before sliding your balaclava and helmet over your head again and climbing back in your car for the formation lap.

You were starting P3, not bad all things considered. You had Carlos in P2 front of you and then Charles in P1, in the grand scheme of things not too shabby.

The cars kicked off as you did the formation lap, you went round no problems. getting into your place on the grid, Lando next to you.

The race kicked off, Lando managed to gain a place on you which you very quickly take back in the first corner.

You went back and fourth for the next few laps, swapping positions every few corners. Everything was going fine, you had been allowed to race each other.

Then you were side by side chasing each other down a straight and as you got to the corner he didn’t turn with you and he didn’t brake. Lando was having a brake failure and you were away to be a victim of it too.

Landos car completely T-barred yours. You kept gliding across the gravel trap until you hit the barrier.

And then came the pain.

The impact made you body ache, everything hurt. You couldn’t source where you were hurting from because everywhere hurt.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N) respond please” Your engineer demanded. You pressed the button on your wheel but found no energy to speak, your lungs hurt too much. You just groaned down the line, hoping that would satisfy. “Okay. Okay, the marshals are on their way. Please just hang in there” He sounded distressed.

Lando was already up and walking. Your car has cushioned the blow of the crash for him and now his front wing was pressing into the side of the front wing of.

Landos helmet appeared above you, shielding your eyes from the sunlight a little more.

“C’mon mate, you have to get up” Lando said reaching his hand into the car for you to take it. You took it and attempted to stand up but when your left leg got any weight on it you fell. The pain travelled al up your leg, striking every nerve in your system.

You collapsed back into your seat and let the warm embrace of darkness take you.

Oscars heart was away to fall out his throat. He watched you make contact with the wall. He watched Lando get out unscathed and now he was watching Lando attempt to help you because the marshals were taking too long.

He watched as you took Lando’s hand and try and pull yourself up and then he watched as you fell back into your seat. That was when Lando turned to the drone cameras nearby and made some sort of gesture to them. Then the broadcast was cut and suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

He chucked his headphones provided by McLaren onto the table before him, got up and went to your drivers room. He needed to get his stuff and leave. He needed to be with you when you were inevitably admitted to hospital.

He was rushing, recklessly throwing your things in your backpack you brought with you. It had both your things in it but you being the ever loving gentleman you were to carry it.

“Fuck, keys” Oscar muttered. He had no clue where you left the keys to your rented McLaren. Eventually after spiralling for a good 10 minutes he found the keys in one of the drawers you had in your bathroom. Keys, phone and wallet all kept safe in one place. Oscar felt like he could breathe again.

“Mate, are you really away to drive like this?” Your performance coach, Mitchell, said from the door to your drivers room.

“Yeah, I need to be with him” Oscar said, wiping the tears from his cheeks as he turned around.

“Do you even know what hospital they’re taking him to?” Mitchell asked, Oscar hesitated. Shit. He didn’t know where you were. He shook his head.

“I know where they’re taking him let me drive you Oscar, It’s not safe for you to be driving right now” Mitchell added.

“Yeah okay” Oscar said, placing the keys in the jacket pocket (Just in case). He swing the backpack over his shoulder and began following Mitchell out of the room. He just wanted out of here and be wherever you were.

You had been taking to a high level trauma centre in Milan. The drive wasn’t too bad considering the crowds were still at the circuit and in no rush to leave.

It was smooth sailing, right through the roads until they got to the hospital. Oscar still felt sick. He didn’t know what was wrong with you. His hand’s were shaking. He was scared, he needed to hold your hand and tell you were okay before he would even think about calming down.

He abandoned your trainer before he had even properly parked the car. As soon as he seen the doors he swung the car door open and bolted.

“I’m here to-“ He took a breathe, he ran too fast, “I’m here to see (Y/N) (L/N), he should have been admitted about 5 minutes ago” Oscar said, he eyes moving erratically as if you would instantly appear before him.

“He was admitted to the ER on red alert 3 minutes ago. May I ask your relation to the patient?” The nurse enquired.

“Uhh- I umm. I’m his boyfriend and power of attorney” Oscar said. Your team would have transferred over your paperwork, the nurses would know who he was, his power of attorney was listed on your papers.

That was one of the most difficult conversations you had ever had with Oscar. You brought it up one night when you were in bed, Oscar remembers being asked so clearly, ‘If I ever become incapacitated, will you speak for me?’ Oscar though it was just a safety precaution, your job was dangerous, he never thought he may actually have to decided what was best for you when you couldn’t.

“Name?” The nurse further enquired. Typing something into the computer before her

“Oscar” He said, pulling out his wallet and handing over his ID “Oscar Piastri”

“Okay, your boyfriend is in trauma room 3 right now. You can wait in the waiting room until someone comes to see you.” Oscar just nodded. He sometimes forget that just because he was technically a doctor he still could not see you, he didn’t work here.

Your trainer eventually caught up with him. They both sat side by side in the waiting room expecting news, waiting, watching people come and leave and still no news.

Oscar wept numerous time in the 2 hours they were sat in the waiting room. Mitchell being the one to rub his shoulder and remind him how stubborn you were.

Eventually a doctor in bloodied scrubs came and requested him, he doesn’t think he has ever stood up so fast.

“Mr. Piastri?” The doctor asked before beginning. Shit. The doctor does not sound like he has good news.

“Yeah” He said, letting in a deep breath.

“We have an update on your partner” Oscar glanced up at the doctor, something hopeful sparked within him. “He is in surgery, his lung collapsed and we had to re-inflate it. He currently is breathing on his own however. He has some swelling on the brain, that should go down with rest.”

“Thats it?” Oscar asked, why were you in surgery if you were going to be fine?

“Its his left leg we’re worries about, its broken in 3 different places and he is already showing signs of infection” The doctor began “Do you wish us to try and save it with pins and screws or guarantee his safety and get rid of his leg?” The doctor enquired.

Oscar was going to spew, what kind of sick twisted act of god was this. Why did he have to be the one to decided whether or not to keep it.

On one had, he knew first hand how long certain types of breaks took to heal, breaking a bone in more than one place would take months to heal and he knew you would spend most of that time in agony, feeling sorry for yourself.

On the other hand however, putting you though an amputation would most likely kill your spirit, end your career and make you hate him. It would however save you from the infection that, if it spreads, could very well kill you. Why could Mitchell not have just stayed your power of attorney? Life would have been so much easier and he would not have to make the choice.

Oscar bit his lip.

Why did it have to be him to make this call?

Fuck.

“Save the leg” He blurted out. It was probably the right call. At least try and fix what was broken. Amputation was a total worst case scenario.

“Okay, we’ll see what we can do” And with that the doctor pivoted on their heel and stormed back down the hall to what Oscar assumes was the surgical ward.

Oscar slumped back down in the chair next to Mitchell. Mitchel looked back at him, as if waiting for a response but not wanting to push.

“He’s in surgery, his lung collapsed and he has minor swelling in the brain.” Oscar began, Mitchell just watched intently as Oscar spoke “His leg is broken in three places and he’s showing signs of early infection, they just asked if I wanted them to try and fix it or amputate it” Oscars voice kept cracking as he tried not to cry.

“Oh” Mitchell said, leaning back in his chair. Oscar and Mitchell became pretty close friends since they met, they watched a lot of races together and both had degrees in sport science, even if Oscar went on to achieve a PhD and Mitchell went straight into work.

“Yeah” Oscar sighed out, rubbing the corners of his eyes to stop the tears flowing. “I told them to try save it, I think he would kill me if I didn’t” Oscar said, smiling slightly trying to lighten the mood

“I need to call him mum” Oscar said, pulling out his phone and wondered into a more isolated corner of the waiting room.

Your parents worked, they couldn’t just drop everything just to come see you. Oscar was there and there was no point making the journey if Oscar was there and you were stable.

Your mum picked up after 1 ring. She must’ve been waiting by her phone for news. “Hello, (Y/Mothers/N)”

“Oh Oscar, where is he? Can I speak to him?” Your mother exclaimed, she sounded like she had been crying. Understandable considering she had just watched one of her sons get into a horrific accident, watch him collapse and then hear nothing again for hours.

“I’m sorry, he’s in surgery right now. His leg is broken in 3 places and it needs to be screwed back together with metal plates” Oscar said down the phone. He did not want to be the one to relay this news but he was the only one that could.

“Oh…” Your bother began “Well keep me updated then. Thank you Oscar” Your mother said before promptly hanging up the phone. She clearly was in no fit state to talk to anyone right now.

Oscar sighed and returned to Mitchell. He sat in the seat and curled his knees up to his chest. Your mum would be fine, she had your siblings with her.

Hours passed before they heard anything again. It was just silence, crying, him and Mitchell catching up a bit, more silence until the doctor in the scrubs showed up again.

“Relations of Mr. (L/N)?” Oscar and Mitchell stood up and nodded. “He’s out of surgery, he is stable, still breathing on his own but we want to keep him sedated for the time being.” The doctor began “You can however go and see him, No plants for children in the ICU however and please mind the wires and metal.”

Oscar never reacted so fast. He had never wanted to get somewhere more than he did right now. He followed the signs to the ICU only then to remember he still didn’t know what room you were in. He pulled a nurse aside.

“Do you know where I could find (Y/N) (L/N)?” Oscar asked her. The nurse just started blankly at him. Crap. She didn’t speak english, he totally forgot he was in a country where the native language was not english.

“Uhhh- Leg, broken leg” he repeated, gesturing down at his leg, thankfully she got the message and nodded. Signalling him to follow her.

She led him to a room a little further down the hall. She opened the door and looked at Oscar. Oscar thanked her and she nodded and left.

Oscar took one look at you and started crying again. Oscar had never seen you so still. Your chest was still rising and falling but you were far too still.

Your leg was secured in metal. You were going to freak the fuck out when you woke up again.

“Oh baby” Oscar said gently, he takes a seat in the chair by your bed. Takes your hand and kisses it gently. “You’re gonna be okay”

He had no idea if you could hear him however, if on the off chance you could, he wanted to talk to you, remind you he was there.

“Lando’s gonna be okay at least, you cushioned his blow” Oscar said, he didn’t know if he was joking or not but if he didn’t laugh he would probably cry so he just went with it.

“Your mum is worried about you” Oscar began, he had to keep talking because he could get so easily freaked out by the silence of a room. “I think she needs to talk to you before she believes you’re okay, I know your siblings won’t leave her though.”

Oscar stayed with you for 3 days, he left to go shower and shave once but it was rushed and he missed bits. He was terrified of leaving you and coming back to you having some sort of issue. Expecting to come back and you were not breathing.

Mitchell had gone home, he had a family waiting for him at and as much as he cares about you he knows you have Oscar and he would be okay to go home and be with his kids.

“The doctors say you’re making good progress at least. Say your head is healing quite well.” Oscar began, picking up your hand and kissing it, trying not to irritate the cannula you had in your hand.

“I’m gonna go and update your mum, I will be right back baby I promise” He said, kissing your forehead gently and leaving the room, phone in hand.

Little did he know that in the 15 minutes he had spent talking to your mother you would wake up surrounded by nurses with no clue where you were or what was happening.

“I want Oscar” You cried out through sobs of pure agony that was running through your body right now. This was far from the most dignified moment of your life but you didn’t care, you were in pain and you wanted your boyfriend to hold you.

The nurses were scrambling about trying locate Oscar, he was in the waiting room on the phone updating your mother the last time any of the nurses had seen him.

Eventually he came back up the corridor, expecting you to still be asleep under the sedative they had given you when you had been taken into the hospital when you wouldn’t stop screaming.

Instead he was met with 2 nurses all looking slightly distressed as they stood at the outside of your door, a further nurse in the room trying to calm you down.

“He’s awake and wants you, Mr. Piastri however if you do not calm him down we may need to sedate him again before he does himself another injury.” The shorter nurse of the two said as she glanced back into the room behind her.

“O-okay” Oscar replied, paling a little at the thought of them having to sedate you again just because you could not come to terms with what was happening right now.

He entered the room not really knowing what to expect from you considering you had just woken up from being asleep for 3 days and had just found out you needed reconstructive surgery on you leg. He was met with your tear streaked face followed by hiccups and more of you shouting at nurses to find Oscar.

“I’m here baby, i’m sorry! I shouldn’t have left” Oscar announced his presence in the room, the nurses parting so that he can get through and see you.

Oscar approached you gently, still unsure if you were considering attacking or not. He gently kissed your forehead and you just started crying again.

“It hurts so much” You cried through more sobs. This was probably the most you had cried like… ever.

The last thing you remembered was kissing Oscar goodbye on the grid as you pulled your helmet over your head and prepared for lights out so why were you in a hospital? Why were you in so much pain?

“I don’t- what even happened?” You said, practically gasping for air between words.

“You were in a crash, shattered your Tibia and did yourself some internal damage” Oscar began, he sat in the chair that was beside the bed you were in. The nursed had cleared out now, they no longer thought you were going to hurt yourself or anyone else “Baby, your lung collapsed and I was so scared. They had to sedate you when they brought you in just to calm you down”

You sat there looking at Oscar as if he had just grown 6 heads. You blinked, hoping maybe you were dreaming, that you would wake up and this would all be a nasty dream and then you didn’t wake up, this was your new, horrific? reality.

You looked down at your leg and there it was again, that ugly metal rods that poked out of your leg, mocking you and your career. You needed your leg, it was not something that you could just live without and still be an f1 driver.

“Wh- Oscar this is some sick joke right? Do you know how long bones take to heal? Months, Oscar, months” You say, your breathing speeding up again as you spiralled into panic, realistically you knew he knew how long bones took to heal it was literally his job to deal with patients who suffered broken bones and trauma that impacted their mobility

“(Y/N), look at me” Oscar said, holding your hand up to his mouth and kissing it. “This is not what you needed right now, I know that, but you should be grateful you even still have your leg, it was touch and go for a while” Oscar knew it was harsh to tell you such cruel things when you were panicking but he also knew that sometimes a slap back to reality is needed.

“I- okay” You said taking a deep breath through your nose and out through the mouth trying to calm yourself down. “It still hurts, can they give me more drugs?” you asked, normally you would swear off using drugs for anything. Even taking ibuprofen made you weary but you were genuinely in so much pain.

“Afraid not baby, they already maxed out your dose before they woke you up. You’re gonna be real floaty soon” Oscar said, a slight smile grazing his face. You had never been high before so the amount of drugs they had you on were going to hit you like a train.

Your doctor came into the room a few moments later after being told by the horde of nurses that you were awake and distressed. (and that they gave you more drugs so he better be quick if he wants you coherent).

“Ahhh Mr. (L/N), you’re awake!” He said in an overly put on happy voice. “As you may have noticed you’ve been out for a while” You just nodded along.

“Your injuries were quite extensive. You punctured a lung, gave yourself quite the concussion and the most obvious injury you may have noticed is your shattered Tibia.” You bit your lip slightly and nodded, looking at the metal structure that surrounded the bottom of your left leg.

Oscar squeezed your hand a little tighter, letting you know he was here. He wasn’t interfering with the doctors conversation, letting you take in what you were being told.

“We’ll assign you with a physical therapist once your leg is healed which we hope to be sorted in the next 2-4 months.” The doctor began and Oscar took this as his moment to interrupt.

“Hold it- i’m right here, I can take care of his physio” Oscar began, he knew you didn’t cope well with new people and people touching you so he, ultimately, would be your best bet at getting anywhere with physical therapy anyway.

“Mr. Piastri, I understand that you want to help but you’re much too close to this” The doctor began before Oscar cut him off.

“No, he doesn’t cope well being touched by strangers. It’ll take numerous sessions just to get him to let another physio touch him, let me do this” He begged, arguing for you as if you weren’t right there (metaphorically you weren’t, the morphine was beginning to kick in and you were feeling loopy as fuck) “I know him, we live together and I travel with him when I manage to close my clinic for a few days please just assign me to take care of him”

Oscar didn’t care how pathetic he sounded right now, He knew you, he knew your routines and little rituals you had before races and things you did to put yourself to sleep at night.

You two had known each other since you were young, you had both been shipped off to boarding school and were educated together. You separated when Oscar when to university to study sport science and you went off to persue Formula 1 and met each other again after your trainer referred you to a proper physio after a particularly bad bout of neck and back pain.

Ever since then you had been inseparable, never seen apart. Point is he needed to care for you in anyway he could. He would make room for you in his schedule, he ran his own private clinic in london so it wouldn’t be that hard to shift his schedule around for you.

The doctor bit his lip, considering it for a moment. “Now are you absolutely sure about this, because frankly I don’t think this is a good idea” He began

“Yes, yes I am. I can take care of him. I know him, I know what he liked and what he doesn’t plus he already is comfortable with me touching him” Oscar began spewing out reasons he should take care of you, why he needs to take care of you.

“And I live with him, I would be with him most days. Just please. It would save the hassle of you trying to find a physiotherapist in London from here anyway” Oscar would literally start a war if this doctor did not get his shit together and let Oscar take over your care.

“Okay fine, we can discuss paperwork later but as for just now I would go and sit with him. He’s gonna get real giddy in a few minutes” The doctor said, gathering up his stuff and promptly leaving the room. It was just you and Oscar again, just this time you’re awake.

“Has anyone ever told you, you have pretty hair” You said, staring at Oscar as if he was the Sistine Chapel. You eyes were already getting a bit bloodshot and glassy, Oscar just blushed slightly.

“Maybe once or twice” Oscar said, playing into what ever mind games the Morphine was playing in you. It was in fact you that always told Oscar he had pretty hair and got all stroppy when he got a haircut.

He took your hand and kissed it again. “I think you should go to sleep before you say anything else you’ll regret”

“Fine” You said like a stroppy toddler. You lay back and let yourself fall asleep. Your soft breaths once again filled the room as you let yourself rest.

Oscar just sat back and sighed, it was going to be a long few months with you but he was willing. He wanted this, it was always you that took care of him. He wanted it to be his turn to take care of you.

After another few weeks, a fuck tonne of drugs, loads of tears and lots of sleeping you were eventually discharged and sent home with crutches and a prescription for more pain killers.

The flight back home was a bit of a nightmare considering you couldn’t go through a metal detector without setting it off, you were in so much pain it was ridiculous. You would have taken pills for the pain but you had put them in your suitcase and not your carry on.

Oscar had tried his best to soothe you but ultimately there was nothing he could do but hold your hand and give you kisses until you got off the plane.

“You know you never had to shut your clinic to stay with me, you could have gone home to run the place” You said. You had felt guilty as anything after Oscar told you he was staying and taking time off to be with you.

“I didn’t shut my clinic, I left in Tina charge while I was gone.” He shrugged, casual as anything “Plus I was technically seeing a patient” He said smugly.

You were Oscars patient now, he had your medical file on his work computer, he had your patient history and he was not gonna let it go. He was so serious about this that he blanked you when you said it would make for great foreplay.

“You are such a sap” You said, pushing him gently. You were, thankfully, flying private. You weren’t sure you could deal with the public and the paparazzi taking non -consentual photos of you in an airport with crutches, a metal brace around your leg and your boyfriend correcting your posture every 5 minutes.

The flight was uneventful for the remainder. You eventually dozed off, Oscar had opted to lay you in his lap and rub your scalp until you fell asleep and he didn’t wake you up until you were away to land.

The car ride to your London home was also largely uneventful. You called a cab because neither of you had a car readily available (not like you could drive anyway).

The first issue you faced was when you got to your house and remembered you had stairs to climb to get into your house. Oscar had to take your bags inside and then have to guide you up the stairs slowly.

“This is fucking humiliating” You mutter as Oscar guides you up the stairs. “World’s greatest athletes and I can’t even climb the stairs to my own house” You mutter, Oscar hears though. He always does somehow.

“You are still a good athlete baby, you’re just hurt and need taken care of right now thats all” Oscar responds gently. He was always patient with you when you started spiralling and getting into your own head.

You had an athletes mentality and that was something Oscar had gotten very used to considering he worked with athletes of varying professions and levels and though you. With you he saw the mental ups and downs he assumes most athletes go though.

“What am I supposed to do for the next 3 months” You exclaim as Oscar helps you onto your sofa. “I can’t exercise properly, Can’t go on walks or runs, I can’t even sleep in my side” You whine. For some a break like this would be ideal but not for you, you could not for the life of you sit still for long periods of time.

“Exercise is actually good for your leg, even if your shin is fucked right now you still need to keep the leg moving.” Oscar explained “You’ll just be in more pain if you don’t move it”

“Now, you’re gonna take your painkillers and then go for a nap because I think you need rest” Oscar said, slipping a pill in between your lips and forcing you to drink the water he gave to you

He lifted his head from its place on the sofa, threw the cushion out from under it and slotted himself in it’s place. Placing you back down so your head was lay in his lap.

“Now, i’m comfy, you’re comfy and everyone is safe so go to sleep” He said, stroking your face gently with his hands “I’ll be right here when you wake up, I promise”

You let your eyes droop and your aches to go numb as the warmth of sleep overtook your system. You had no problems letting Oscar massage your face to send you to sleep.

In reality Oscar felt he needed to watch you sleep, to watch you breathe, the even rise and fall of your chest was a comfort to him. The last time he could not see you sleeping your lung collapsed and you could not breathe. Oscar felt it was his duty and as a doctor (technically) to be the one to take note of your health, make sure your body was working properly.

He turned the TV on and eventually he himself dozed off. He would never tell anyone, especially not you, how tired he let himself become those last few weeks in Italy. He was going to make himself sick if he stayed in hospital with you a little longer just so he could stay with you.

The next few weeks were hellish.

Oscar had been helping you move your legs and clean the entry site of the pins in your leg. Or he was trying, you kept doing so well and then having days where you were in nothing but pain and cried all day.

In between all of this Oscar had also gone back into work, just with reduced hours, he did still have clients after all. Your injury didn’t just magically heal his other patients that he saw regularly

Today, Oscar wasn’t really doing much with you. He was just having you practice walking on your crutches again.

“You know this would be easier if you came into my practise instead of using our living room” Oscar said, looking up at you from the sofa

“No!” You exclaim “I cannot leave the house like this, Do you know how humiliating this would be if a fan found me, I can’t fucking walk Oscar!” You wanted to shout so very badly but you couldn’t because you knew better than to piss of your physio (and boyfriend)

“Baby, I understand I really do bu-“ Oscar began

“No you don’t! You do not understand, I am under constant scrutiny from the press and the fans and the news. I cannot have them see me like this. I cannot handle the rumours about my career by random people on the internet” You snap.

“You’re right” Oscar said, looking at the floor. “I do not understand baby but you need proper equipment, which I have, it’s just at my practise. Please just let them speculate for the sake of your health. Hell even make a statement yourself just to shut them up.”

“You’re right, i’m being stupid.” You began, adjusting yourself as you lean onto his shoulder. “I’m sorry for snapping, I love you”

“I love you too” Oscar said kissing your hairline gently.

Your_Username

❤️ 💬 📟 🔖

Liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren and 704k others

Your_Username Life since my accident 🩶

Seriously though I would like to send a massive thanks to the Paramedics and Doctors in Italy that literally saved my life. I’m not gonna go into detail about my injuries until I feel ready but it was scary. Even bigger thanks to Dr. Boyfriend who took me home and has dealt with my moody ass for the past few weeks

As for my career, I am still unsure as to what will happen with my future. You aren’t rid of me just yet though, I can promise you that.

Lots of Love, (Y/N) (L/N)

oscarpiastri So very proud of you baby, We’re gonna get through this together 💪🏻

mclaren We’re gonna miss you at MTC for the next few months ☹️

Comments on this post have been limited

The following weeks were a nightmare, Oscar began working close to his full schedule. You wondered if this is what Oscar felt like when you were away for weeks at a time for racing. Only so much TV could fill the time you spend sitting on the couch, doing basic exercises to keep your leg moving and more sitting on the couch.

When Oscar was home you spent a lot of time listening about his day, you not having much to add to that conversation these days. Sometimes your recovering and his work overlapped.

That was the times you enjoyed the most lately.

You got to see Oscar in his ‘natural habitat’ as you would call it. It’s where he was content, in his zone. It was so nice to see him so comfortable in an environment most people feel tense in.

Earlier in the week you had been papped waking from Oscar’s car to the clinic on crutches. You had never been phased by the paparazzi but now, in your state you were mortified.

“I really don’t know why it’s such a big deal” Oscar said, you were sat in his office in his exam bed as he cleaned the entry points or your pins. “I mean the media know you’re injured, they know you won’t be driving for a while and they know i’m doing your physio” He shrugged.

“I know, it’s just a bit irritating that they can’t just let me be injured in peace y’know?” You reply, wincing slightly as Oscar pressed at a particularly tender piece of skin

“I get that but surely it could be worse, people know you’re okay, The media can stop trying to contact you for your where about and People know you’re with me and you’re all mine” Oscar said, leaving a slightly unprompted kiss to your knee

“I supposed” You grumble, laying back on the exam bed as Oscar began making you bend your leg. “I love you”

“I love you too”

“(Y/N) you fabulous, fabulous man! You my friend have just won your first championship” You engineer yelled over you comms.

You couldn’t respond, you were crying while trying to navigate your cooldown lap.

A 18-months ago you almost lost your leg, told that you would probably never walk again. A year ago you could barely bed you knee. Eight months ago you were falling behind in the championship, the media beating you up. Five months ago you began your record breaking comeback and right now you had just won the championship off all championships in Vegas

You climbed out of your car after taking a moment to yourself. A deep breath. A moment of silence.

You did the usual jumping into the crowd of engineers as they pulled you over the fence and held you up. It took 5 minutes for your feet to return to the ground. And then there was Oscar, who was also crying.

You went to hug him, pulling him close and then pulling him over the fence so you could properly give him kissed “This is all because of you baby, all of it. You’re the one who nursed me back to health, back to this point” You whispered in his ear, over the crowds of people screaming your name.

“I’m so proud of you” He said kissing your cheek. Photographers taking this as their moment to strike. “And you are getting railed so hard tonight”

And now you’re less glad you’re surrounded by photographers.

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #x reader #f1 x male reader #f1 x you #formula 1 x male reader #oscar piastri x male reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #f1 #formula 1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri fic #x male reader #x male y/n #Spotify

200 notes · View notes