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angel-eyes05 · 1 year

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to leave the warmest bed i've ever known

pairing: spiderwoman!reader x miguel o’hara

summary: after miguel’s fight with miles, you confront him in his office

warnings: this whole thing is basically one big argument there’s SO much angst, implied suicide attempt, HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, im projecting a little in some parts of this ngl (i cried writing a certain section of this, you'll know it when you read it lmao), mentions and descriptions of blood, gore, and death

word count: 4.1k

notes: i watched the movie yesterday…and miguel is on my mind. but i remember reading this namor x reader fanfic after i watched wakanda forever of a similar idea to this and i loved it so this is HEAVILY inspired by that fic, but just make it miguel. i would link it but ngl that was so long ago and i dont remember the author. if i end up finding it again ill put it here. also, just pretend miguel has been doing this whole spider society thing for a couple of years at least, it just needs to work like that for this ik its probably not canon but just roll with it lmao. and yes the title is a taylor swift lyric im so glad you noticed (im so sorry she's in my brain rn with the eras tour)

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The anger boiled up inside your chest as you stormed your way across the lobby. Hundreds of different Spider-Man variants were scattered across the area, some more injured than the others. It sickened you sometimes. How he had so many people under his grasp and just decided to throw some of them at the walls sometimes, not caring how hard they hit the floor because they were all just ammo to him. How despite his denials of it, that’s probably what your role was to him as well. Nothing more than a bullet in his massive machine gun.

You normally tried not to think about it, how his determination towards his goal sometimes meant lack of care for others. But this time he had just gone too far. You always had a soft spot for Miles, watching closely on him whenever Miguel would let you go though scanners of all the different variants. You admired his struggle, but eventual success to taking up the previous Peter’s mantle, and always hated how Miguel talked about him. You knew there was no way Miles could’ve asked for any of this. For the pressures and struggles of being a Spider-Man, for everything causing such a strained relationship with his parents, for the death of his uncle, and for what will be the eventual death of his father. You definitely didn’t.

Ok lets do this one last time. Eh, whatever, there’s probably gonna be 50 other introductions after this one so it doesn’t really matter.

Being Earth-837’s Spider-Man has never been easy. Especially since you were bit when you were only 13 (another reason you sympathized with Miles and Gwen). Your life had followed the order of canon events to a perfect T, your older brother killed in a fight with a robber only two months after you were bit. You tried to overcome the burden of your powers by trying to live as normal of a teenage life as possible, but it was mostly in vain, having to give up multiple friendships and relationships in fear of those you love getting hurt. This was only elevated when your boyfriend Peter was murdered in the crossfire of an encounter with Doc Ock. You didn’t understand. You couldn’t. What you had done to deserve all of this. All you did was just be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You wonder sometimes what would happen if someone was in the same place you were when you got bit. If someone else went to the closed down area of that museum and ran into that spider. That stupid spider that ruined your life. Those thoughts slowly started to disappear for a bit. For a few years things were easy. Things seemed like they were finally going in your favor.

You were 25 when it happened. The last canon event. Ever since you were a little girl you hated your mother’s job. Losing nights of sleep over if she would come home or not. She always did though. She was good at her job. Too good though. Good enough to get promoted to police captain, which for who you were, was basically sealing her fate. She saved so many people that day. You were too busy fighting Venom to notice how much collateral damage you were causing in the process. Your mother’s job was to evacuate all the citizens away from the fight. She died shielding a child from incoming debris. A noble way to go. But god was it gruesome. You found her after the fight was over, two metal poles impaling her. One through her stomach and one straight through her face, pools of blood growing bigger below her as she was left there, all the paramedics busy trying to save the heavily injured. You froze when you finally recognized her, unable to at first due to how mutilated her face was from the pole. Suddenly, you were transported back to being a six year old, falling asleep outside the door to your mother’s bedroom so you would know exactly when she would come home. Purposefully falling asleep in her arms so that she couldn’t go anywhere.

When you used the key she had given you to get into her apartment that night, and you slept in her room, desperate to intake anything left of her before she was fully gone. You doused yourself in her perfume so it still felt like she was standing right behind you. You had always loved her smell. The smell of vanilla, curl product, and fancy perfume. They were attached to memories you had of her. Trying on her heels when you were a kid to try and be fancy like her. Smelling her hair in the morning before school to comfort you before she left for work. Despite all of this bringing you comfort, all it really did was cause further denial in your heart. That one day you were gonna hear the keys clacking in the keyhole to your apartment one more time. That’s all you really wanted. You would give everything up in a heartbeat just to hear her police scanner go off one last time. But it wasn’t going to. And it was your fault. Deep down you knew it was. You should’ve done a better job controlling the debris. You had always been a messy fighter, but you didn’t know it was going to mean anything until it was too late.

How you got up to the top of that building is still a blur to you to this day. But next thing you know, you were looking at the New York City skyline from the very top of the Empire State Building. And at the very edge too. You heard some sounds behind you, but you just decided it was the wind howling from how high up you were. You were just so tired. Everything and everyone you loved was cursed all because of you. And with your mother as the most recent victim, you decided you finally had enough. You took a deep breath, eyes overflowed with water, as you set your foot forward.

Your plummet was interrupted by a sudden contact you felt to your forearm. Shock filled your body as you turned around to look at what had stopped your attempt. The blue hand was massive, nearly wrapping back around onto itself as it held onto you for dear life. You finally looked up at face that the hand belonged to. The mask that covered the massive figure was a strange one. Blue with strange red silhouettes for the eyes. It kind of reminded you of…your own costume? That couldn’t be though there was no way. This must be the afterlife or something. You already jumped and that's why you didn’t remember your way up to the top. This was some kind of creature trying to stop you from jumping down to hell below. His breaths were heavy and loud, almost like he was desperate to stop you. This convinced you that this was real, which caused you to try to escape from his grip. He was stronger than you, and was putting up a huge fight. You were slick though. Once you were out of his hand, you closed your eyes and quickly made your jump. Everything flashed before your eyes. Your brother, Peter, your mom. You were hoping to see them soon. This was very quickly interrupted again when you suddenly stopped falling. Something had attached itself to your stomach. You opened your eyes. A web? This web was much different than yours though. It was glowing a bright, neon orange.

The man was holding onto the end of it tightly with both hands. His mask then disappeared to show his face. His was long, matching how big the rest of his body was, defined cheek bones sticking out. Brown wavy hair slicked back with a few loose strands flying out in the wind. The look of desperation on his face stook out most of all. Why did he care so much? He didn’t know you, and you definitely didn’t know him. “Let me pull you up. Please,” he said to you between shaky pants. You stared at him for a bit before nodding. He slowly pulled you up with the string of his web, each move more careful than the last. As soon as your feet were planted safely back on the roof of the building, he wrapped you up in his massive arms. You appreciated the gesture, but you didn’t return it, still very confused about why he was so concerned. He was so big around your body though, you couldn’t help but feel a little comforted, feeling his still shaky breaths against the hairs of your neck. Soon after, he clicked on some buttons on his neon orange watch and led you into a portal.

The rest is history. You’re grateful he found you that day. It allowed you to meet so many people, Peter B., Jess, Gwen, Hobie, Ben, Pavitr, Margo. They all related to you and you felt like you could share things with them that you couldn’t do with anyone else. You had grown especially close to Peter and Jess, both of them having been in the game for a long time, just like you. They both knew how you felt, having lost so much and growing so tired after so many years. Peter even named you as Mayday’s godmother when she was born, a gesture that caused you to nearly kill him with your hug. Miguel though was different. He wasn’t nearly as social as the rest of your friends, but you found yourself having much more intimate moments with him (in more ways then one). You eventually found out why Miguel was so concerned for you the day you met. He had taken interest in your abilities early into looking for variants for his little “project”, but refrained from roping you into something so dangerous while you were still in your teens.

Once you were old enough though, he started paying more and more attention, hoping to catch you in a fight and recruit you then. But he was always pulled away with more important duties to attend to. That was until he witnessed your canon event. He had seen it happen so many times before through his scanners. It was going to happen. It had to in order for your universe to not collapse in on itself. But for some reason, yours hurt more than the rest to him. Especially how you coped with it. Seeing you wrap yourself up in her blankets and clothes broke his heart. He knew where this would lead to. That’s why he was there that day. To save you. He had to, or he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. You got your own watch immediately, along with your own room in the Spider Society headquarters. He stayed close with you for the first month of you being a member of the team. When he wasn’t out on missions, he was with you. You didn’t really know what to label you two as, but whatever was going on, you liked it. And he did too.

That is until Miles came into the picture. Once Miles was bit, all hell broke loose for Miguel. He was always in some alternate dimension catching some Spider-Man villain who got out and rangled them back over here, falling back over to you more beat up and bruised than the last time. You couldn’t imagine how much stress he was under, the fate of the entire multiverse up to him. You had some ways of helping him relieve his stress, but you wish you could convince him that he wasn’t alone in this. But nothing ever got through to him. He had become distant, aloof even. You tried bringing it up to Jess every so often, but she would just brush it off.

“That’s how he’s always been.” Not to you he hasn’t. This week has been hell though. With Spot making it over to Miles, Miguel had been going into rages all week. You had put up with it for now, but that was all about to stop. Watching how harsh he was being on Miles, throwing so many Spider-Men at an innocent boy, risking all of their lives in the process. Disregarding everything Gwen and Peter were feeling and then throwing Gwen back into her broken world with nothing. He had gone too far. No one else was going to stand up to him about it, so you knew it had to be you. Maybe he would listen, maybe he wouldn’t. It didn’t really matter. He just needed to hear it.

“It’s not worth it you know.” The voice snapped you out of your thoughts, stopping you in your tracks. “You know how stubborn he gets over these things,” said Jess, trying to convince you to save your breath. “I don’t care. I have to at least try,” you responded, monotonically. “I just don’t understand how you can follow him so blindly and not see what he’s doing is wrong.” “Because he isn’t wrong. I don’t know about you, but I’m not just gonna stand by and let some kid’s stupid decisions destroy another Earth,” Jess argued. “He’s just trying to save his dad, I can’t understand how that makes him such a bad person,” you said, finally turning around to face her, shocked when she was closer to you than expected.

“You know exactly why. Don’t be so naive, y/n,” she shot back. “You can’t stop me,” you said staring straight into her. She shrugged. “Then I can’t help you.” She began to walk away. You did to, until you heard her say. “You don’t know how much he cares for you.” You turned around to face her again, but her back was still to you, her head tilted ever so slightly to look at you. “If you really do care for the kid, watch what you say to Miguel right now. Cause you might just give him the final push he needs to do what needs to be done.” You didn’t give her a response, and just simply kept walking. You felt Jess’ eyes on your back as you entered the elevator to get up to Miguel’s office.

The elevator ride up felt longer than it should’ve, as you tried to gather all of your thoughts and emotions together so even if he didn’t listen, your words would still stick with him in some way. You didn’t necessarily want to hurt him (though your fists were telling you otherwise), but you did want him to be aware of what he’s done. Once the doors finally opened, all of that work flew out the window as rage took over your body again, seeing Miguel up there looking at the scanners. The fact that he looked just as normal as he always does made you furious. It’s like nothing happened.

“You know, I could hear you coming in from the lobby,” he said, almost stopping you in your tracks. You hated when he did that. Claiming that he knew what your every move was going to be. Like you were under his control or something. “Yeah, well then you must’ve heard me talking to Jess, which means you know exactly what this is about,” you shot back, stopping to where you could see him perched up there. “Why don’t you just save me the conversation about morality and just come up here and kick my ass already. It’ll save both of us time,” he said, not even taking his eyes off the scanners to look down at you. This only added to your fury. “That’s not what I’m here for Miguel, so don’t you dare try to twist my words here. What you did to that kid was fucked up and you know it.” “Oh yeah, then why didn’t you try to do anything to stop me?” he questioned.

“Because I’m not stupid Miguel. I’m not gonna try to take down hundreds of Spider-Men at once.” “Oh, cause you’re so much better than that?” This wasn’t like him at all. That gentle, kind, and caring Miguel you once knew was gone, taken over by some sort of personal vendetta he had against Miles. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this all needs to stop before it gets taken too far. You’re getting into a fight you can’t win. That kid’s strong and so are his allies. And if you go any further into this, I won’t be here to help you.” He stayed still and only turned his head to look at you. “And what makes you think that you’re so important to my plan that it’ll fall apart if you leave? Have you really become that pretentious?”

Your body froze. Have I really? No no no, that’s exactly what he wants. If you begin to doubt yourself now, you’ll stay and nothing will change. You knew you were right. He was trying to crumble you down, but you wouldn’t let that happen. “And you really think that one kid is going to ruin something that you’ve been working for for years? How insecure you’ve become.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, turning back away from you. You did the same, wiping off your face in anger. “I hate it when you do tha-,” you said as you turned back around, but were cut off to find Miguel standing there right in front of you. He was close. Too close to your liking, although in any other circumstance you would’ve found this attractive.

He tilted his head up, but his eyes were down staring daggers into yours. You hated how much he tried to make himself seem more superior to you. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he repeated, this time slower as if you were a child. “He’s just a kid Miguel,” you said in a low, quiet voice. “An anomaly. And a dangerous one at that.” “God Miguel, all he wants to do is protect his dad, do you know how insane you sound right now?” you said letting out a slight laugh when you finished. You backed away from him a little. “He doesn’t know how much damage he’ll do with this. Saving his father will only prolong the inevitable. His world will be gone within hours if he does this. All I’m trying to do is make him understand,” he tried to explain. “By trying to kill him.” “You always have to exaggerate the situation,” he said palming his face. “But that’s essentially what you’re trying to do isn’t it? Why not snuff out the problem entirely by taking him out!”

He signed and began to walk away while you were talking, bringing up your anger even more. “Yeah, use all the power you’ve accumulated over the years and just take out the small problem! Except this isn’t just a fly on the wall Miguel. This is a child! An innocent boy who didn’t ask for any of this to happen to him, just like how we didn’t. I get it, I’m sorry that this job is stressful, I really am. But that gives you zero right to act the way you are!” You were screaming at him at this point. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want your emotions to get the best of you. But he was being too stubborn. This was the only way you thought you could get to him. You might not have wanted to, but you needed to hurt him now. It was the only way.

“You can’t be so power blind that you refused to accept the fact that there could be a way around Captain Davis’ death. You said we saved Earth’s before, I’m sure we could do it again.” Your anger only kept rising when he kept walking away and didn’t respond. “This is a personal thing isn’t it?” you asked calmly. You knew it was working now when he stopped walking. “Yeah, it it. You won’t let Miles get his happy ending. Because why should he be pardoned of his burden while the rest of us have suffered so much. While you’ve suffered so much.” The answer to your question was confirmed when Miguel stayed silent. “Just because you didn’t get the life you wanted Miguel, doesn’t mean you have the right to stop other people from getting theirs.”

You knew you overstepped the line when Miguel turned around and started walking towards you, fury burning in his crimson eyes. “Yeah, so what! What if that is what this is all about! You should know better than anyone how much this job takes away from you!” he screamed at you, backing you up into a wall. “Why should he get to be let off so easily, while people like you and me have to suffer so much? Don’t try to turn me into the villain here when I know you’re thinking the exact same thing, y/n.” He wasn’t entirely wrong. You had wondered it at some points. “I won’t let you turn this onto me Miguel, this is about you,” you fired back. “Oh no, you’re not getting off that easily. I know you’re thinking it. And you’re right. Why should Miles get let off so easily when you’ve lost so much.” He held your hands in his, trying to connect to you. “And you have mi vida. You’ve had so much taken from you and it’s unfair. Why should he only have lost one person when you’ve had three taken from you. Your brother, Peter, your moth-.”

He was cut off by your hand striking against his face in a harsh blow. “If you’re smart, and I know you are, you’ll keep those three out of them. I won’t let you drag their names through the dirt for something as stupid as this.” You both stood there for a while, both of your eyes looking towards the ground, hoping it would open up to swallow you both as an escape from this god awful conversation. You never wanted it to come to this. In all honesty, you cared for Miguel. You might’ve even loved him, if you were even capable of doing such a thing. You hoped he felt the same way about you, but in a job like this, he always had at least one wall up around you. It just wasn’t worth it anymore. You were too tired to keep trying for something that was most likely going to fall apart in the end.

“You’re still going after him aren’t you?” you asked, finally breaking the silence. Miguel looked back up at you. “You can’t ask me not to. You know better than anyone why this is so important to me.” He moved his hand up to cup your cheek and kissed your forehead gently. You let it sit there for a minute out of habit before pushing it off your face. “And you must know why I can’t stay anymore then.” His shoulders dropped. “Whatever this thing between us is. It’s over. I can’t stay beside someone who can’t see what he’s doing is wrong.” Miguel’s dropped hand turned into a fist of anger. “Fine,” he spat in your face. “I don’t need someone like you in my way. You’re just a liability to this anyways.” He began to walk away from you back to his scanners. “Just don’t come crying back over to me when your little plan doesn’t work out, cause I won’t help you.” He used his webs to pull himself back up to the platform to keep looking for Miles. You stood there for a second, gathering yourself.

Five years. Out the door just like that. It bewildered you how easily a bond like you two had could be broken all because of one teenager. You began to make your way for the door before you said. “When this is all over…don’t try to find me.” He didn’t respond. Once the elevator doors opened, you rushed inside, desperate to get away from him. So many thoughts rushed through your head as the doors closed and you sunk down back to the lobby to leave. You didn’t have much of a plan. This could end up being a horrible idea. Your gut told you it was the right thing to do though. And that was enough for you. You walked out of the headquarters lobby with a new heart and a new mind, ready to take action for your new plan.

First though, you had to find Gwen.

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a/n: god that took longer than it should've. dw dw i'll do a part 2 if enough people ask for one. im not 100% sure how im gonna do a part 2 cause yk....idk how beyond the spiderverse is gonna go so tbh, we're just gonna make it go the way i want lmao. thanks for reading, ik this was kind of a long one lmao

NEXT CHAPTER

#miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #into the spider verse #spider-woman reader #across the spiderverse #fem!reader #fanfic #fanfiction #spiderman #spider man #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderverse

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butchtheworld · 5 months

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crip tips

i'm an experienced disabled person (EDS, CFS, POTS, chronic pain). here are some of the things that help me get by as a college student (note: i use a wheelchair and a cane most days. i also am fortunate enough to have decent medical care, meds, and my aforementioned mobility aids)

shower chair. i can't stand for long enough to shower, and especially not if it's a hot shower. i got a cheap one off of amazon that has three legs and a plastic seat. that plastic seat makes it super easy to keep clean. i know there's a weird sort of embarrassment about sitting in the shower, but PLEASE, it is so much better than sitting on the floor in the shower or falling. in my dorms, there are two (2) showers with fold-down seats. i put a small towel down on the seat so i'm not bare-ass on this dorm bathroom surface, then i wash it down after.

normal wheelchair gloves are fingerless, which suck for winter. BUT, winter cycling gloves have the same cushioning on the palms and grip material and fingers. they're not super warm, but throw on a pair of thin gloves underneath (or, if you're like me, propelling keeps your hands super hot anyways).

an ice pack on the back of your neck can help with migraines and dizziness. i keep a small one in my freezer at all times. i tuck it into a hairband so it can be hands-free.

PLEASE adjust your cane/crutch/crutches to the right height. it helps so much with shoulder/elbow pain and balance. if it doesn't feel right, it probably isn't. the handle of my cane hits around the height of my wrist if my arm is just hanging down.

if you have hyper mobility, try high-rise shoes. i wear only high-rise converse and doc martens, which i can lace tightly around my ankles to keep them from rolling or sliding out of place.

(MENTIONS FOOD AND CALORIES) keep an easy, high-in-calorie food around. for me, eating on high pain days is essentially impossible. so, i need something that i can get myself to eat (like ice cream or canned soup or chips) that won't take any effort. ice cream is a great one for me, since it's sweet and cold and dense. even if it's not healthy, nothing is more unhealthy than not eating.

please, please, please find a community of disabled people. most of my close friends are able-bodied and, as much as i love them, they just can't understand it like other disabled people do. i found two great communities on my college campus, but i've also heard that support groups are a great way to meet people within the community

if you have any other tips, reblog with them. i remember the beginning days of my illness and how daunting all of this was. this is how we support our community.

#crip punk #crip theory #disabled #disability #chronic illness #chronic pain #ehlers danlos syndrome #chronic fatigue #disability tips

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roronoagem · 4 months

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So I had an idea, idk know if you do multiple character hcs but how would the strawhats (separate and choose who you want, I know there’s many strawhats) react to their S/O being super stubborn when their unwell, they only find out they have been ill because they passed out on the ship.

Chopper just being super worried!!

I hope this can be mostly fluff but I can see some angst at the beginning, have fun!!

characters: monster trio + nami

content warning: gn!reader (they/them), mention of being sick, it’s mostly fluff i think + not proofread.

a/n: hi, thank u for the req !! i’m sorry for choosing only 4 strawhats, i hope at least one of your fav is there & most importantly that they’re at least a bit in character 😭 i hope you’ll enjoy it <3

𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐘.

i don’t think he would actually panic at first . . his brother used to fell asleep randomly so, maybe it just happened to you too?

when he’s not successful in waking you up, he calls for chopper and tells you just hit the floor and bang.

when finishes explaining what happened, luffy scolds you — maybe call you dumb for not taking care of yourself, too.

he means no harm, trust me. he’s just worried about something happening to you.

would always be close to you — more than usual, to make sure you’re doing okay and that you’re not overworking yourself.

𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐎.

would call for chopper, explaining that you just passed out right in front of his eyes.

panics but doesn’t panic . . yeah.

chopper does panic tho.

when they find out that you neglected your own body and health out of stubbornness, first zoro lectured you and then chopper tried to be a bit gentler while explaining that it could be really dangerous.

zoro is by your side 24/7 making sure you’re recovering and you’re not sick anymore.

i believe he would start looking out for you even more, just in case you keep ignoring your health.

𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈.

she panics.

calls for chopper.

they panic together.

man . . nami definitely scolds you till you beg her to stop and promise you’ve learned your lesson.

chopper makes you promise you will come to him right away if you’re not feeling well.

nami would threaten you by making you pay if she catches you neglecting your health ever again.

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈.

he’d call for chopper right away and try not to get in the way with his worry as the little reindeer is visiting you.

once the situation is clear, sanji would talk with you about how important it is to take care of yourself, that your health affects anything you do, etc.

would be super attentive and looking out for you.

he 100% makes sure you’re taking care of yourself.

& i also believe he would assure chopper to not worry too much because he’s here too, y’know.

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aliaology · 6 months

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COACH — PART III

summary: jack finds himself really wanting to be a dad when he gets older, mostly because of connor.

pairings: jack hughes x single!mom!fem!reader

warnings: none

you felt bad, you felt like a burden. you hesitantly accepted the offer to spend the night at jacks house. was it the best idea? not really, no. you barely knew the man. but you also knew how famous he was, how one wrong move would send his career into the trash.

you watched as jack carried your sleeping son up the stairs, making his way to the fourth floor. you felt bad, again. there was an elevator, but god you had a terrible fear of elevators.

jack seemed more than happy to walk up the stairs though, and clearly carrying connor was almost like holding a feather.

jack’s keys jingled as he fumbled them in his free hand. you watched silently as he twisted the key and then the knob, opening the door to a silent apartment.

“ill put him in my bed, you can sleep with him in there, ill take the couch or the guest room.” jack spoke softly, allowing you inside first.

your brows furrowed, not out of frustration but out of concern. “i can’t ask you to do that, jack. this is your apartment. me and connor can both take the guest room. you letting us in here was enough.”

jack sighed, “y/n, its okay. im willingly giving you my bedroom to sleep in. i want you both to sleep there, my beds comfier and i think you guys need it.” jack told.

you bit your lip before sighing, “okay.” jack gave you a smile before grabbing your stuff and bringing it to his room.

you followed behind him, taking in the room as you stepped in. it suited him. the red, black, and white that adorned his room. the tall but old-looking dresser was a stark contrast with its light brown compared to the rest of the room.

you gently lied connor down on jacks bed, the boy immediately cuddled up to the covers as he slept.

you turned to jack, "thank you, again, jack. you don't understand how much this truly means to me." you told.

jack smiled, "its no problem, plus i really like this little guy, not to mention his mom is pretty good looking too" he laughed.

you chuckled slightly. "you wanna go watch a movie?" he asked. you looked to connor before looking back at jack. you nodded. jack headed towards the livingroom, you following behind him.

it didn't take long for you to decide on 'remember the titans' and lie down on the couch together. his arm rested on the couch, just above your shoulders. every now and then his fingers would brush against your skin.

mid way through the movie, you fell asleep, head landing right on jack's shoulder. he smiled down at you before slowly falling asleep himself.

jack felt himself get shaked. his eyes opened slightly to see connor standing there, a sad frown plastered on his tired little face. jack tiredly looked around, finding himself holding your sleeping body.

he looked back at connor. "whats wrong buddy?" he asked.

connor sniffled. "i had a nightmare, can i sleep with you guys?" he frowned.

jack internally groaned due to the lack of space. "uhm, how about you go lay back down in my room and ill bring your mom in there, okay?" jack spoke softly.

"i want you there too," connor told.

jack stayed silent for a minute. his heart melting at the younger boy's words. "alright, ill be in with your mom in just a moment, okay?" he told connor.

connor nodded, his feet padding along the floor as he ran back to the bedroom. jack slowly removed himself from the couch before gently picking you up. you stirred slightly but didn't wake up. he turned the tv off and walked to his room. he set you down next to connor, the boy instantly going to your arms which subconsciously wrapped around him.

jack smiled and lied down on the other side of connor. the young boy held his hand out. "can you hold my hand?" he asked quietly.

"of course i can, bud" jack smiled softly, grabbing the younger boys hand and holding it. connor's eyes fluttered shut.

jack looked at you and connor, finally understanding what baby fever was, and how much he wanted to be a father later down the road.

I KNOW EVERYONE IS WAITING FOR NOW THAT WE DONT TALK BUT YOU GUYS DESERVED THIS <//3

#hockey #jack hughes #nhl imagine #nhl #nhl hockey #new jersey #new jersey devils #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x y/n #father #singlemom

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aseaofyoongi · 1 year

Text

just desserts | jjk

jeon jungkook x reader (f)

genre: one night stand; neighbors; set in the summer cause i miss it dearly.

rating: mature audiences only (strictly 18+)

summary: jungkook is your next door neighbor who you have only crossed a few words with. however one hot summer day theres a city wide blackout and strangely enough, he shows up at your door w brownies. . and other delights.

warnings: crush culture; mentions of lack of confidence; masturbation (f.); foul language; naughty thoughts; penetrative sex; unprotected sex (wrap it up); dry humping; oral (m. receiving); praise; sub-ish jk!; jk has a huge dick;?brief mention of seokjin and joon; oc is very hørny for jk basically; those fucking gifs of jk w his long hair and glasses inspired this so thank you jeon jungkook; edited but excuse any mistakes please.

word count: 6,3 thousand words

posted: monday - january 30, 2023

A sixth floor walk up in the middle of the scorching month of July was certainly not fitting on your basis of an ideal home. But after your extensive apartment search always ended with high-priced, rodent infested corners New Yorkers often mistook for apartments, you were happy to shake on the deal for this studio apartment with Seokjin without having to break your piggy bank or burn a staggering hole in your pocket.

“When is the elevator going to be fixed, Seokjin,” you fanned yourself as beads of sweat adorned your white tank top.

“That’ll have to be when I finally win the lotto,” he guffawed from behind the plexiglass square standing between you and his office.

“Very funny,” you mumbled, beginning your journey up the stairs. He didn’t hear you though, instead his focus remained on whichever drama he played on the television.

Kim Seokjin, was the name of a superstar—or so he says. He claims to have attended the Juilliard School for about two years, with dreams of becoming the newest face of Hollywood and all of their high-priced productions. When Seokjin’s dad fell ill, he couldn’t keep up with the demands of keeping so many residence buildings open, he had to close more than half his buildings and just like that, financial strains created a hurdle the size of Mt. Everest in the life of Seokjin. He was left without his dreams, without his father and taking care of a building where the rent was too cheap to gain a profit, making just enough to cover the mortgage.

Normally, you weren’t so exposed to details of your landlord’s lives, but Seokjin was different. He was also your friend.

“I put water bottles around the halfway mark. The last thing I need is a lawsuit over a dead body,” he yelled up as you barely made it to floor two.

“How considerate. I’ll try not to die while you’re on the clock,” it was too hot to continue your journey up. . too hot to form coherent sentences. You just wanted to make it to your apartment and sit in front of the fan for the rest of the day.

“That’s all I’m saying,” you heard.

Once your foot met the landing on the third floor, your eyes desperately scanned for the promise of beverages Seokjin had informed you of, but the small table set-up on the other end of the hallway was completely empty. Leaving behind only the particles of dust and pure oxygen to inhale. Fuck—you actually felt like you were going to pass out. Just three more floors.

You wanted to yell down a snarky remark towards Seokjin but you figured that required too much energy you simply did not have.

Moving to New York was a decision you had made impulsively after feeling like you had overstayed your time in your parents house post-high school. You averted college at all costs because it just wasn’t for you. Lectures seemed like a bore and professors were individuals being paid to legally torture their students so you joyfully averted that nightmare all together. Your immediate option was to get a job, but after many places began getting closed down back home, you found yourself job hopping as a means for survival.

It was not convenient, so you boarded a train to the city that never sleeps in hopes of never looking back. . And you haven’t since setting foot here eleven months ago.

“Just one more floor,” you uttered to no one in particular but the patchy silver handrail and the chipped white walls.

Your apartment was now in your line of vision and the only thing standing between you and the black steel door were just ten sets of stairs. Walking into the building your body was glistening with a thin layer of sweat but now you were drenched, your top was sticking to your skin and the thick beads of dampness rolled down your body like the condensation on soft drinks from fast food places.

Heaving with exhaustion you took a seat on the very last step of the sixth floor, finally you made it but you just needed a minute, just a single minute to catch your breath. The fucking heat was unbearable; intolerable; irregular, you could have sworn the sun inched closer and closer to planet earth as the day progressed.

Initially, you hadn’t heard as much as the squeaky hinges on the door frame, you were too divulged in your suffering from the days heat. Not to mention, your eyes were closed and you were too focused in a state of cooling down before hiding behind the thin walls of your apartment.

“Are you ok?” His voice became trapped in the muggy air surrounding the two of you. The bass in his tone never ceased to make your knees turn to jello, to make your toes curl and to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight.

Was the heat not enough suffering for one day?

“Oh,” you cleared your throat, “I’m fine. It’s just the heat.”

“Yeah, it definitely feels like we were shipped straight to hell today.”

“I don’t know, I think hell might be cooler than this,” he chuckled lightly—you’re foolish stammer and poor excuse of words enlightened him. The sun was still beaming brightly but you swore you saw stars after he had serenaded you so sweetly with the sound of his infectious laugh.

“I think you might be right,” he locked his door and walked past you on the stairs, “have a good day neighbor.”

“You too, Jungkook,” you called after him as he began his way down the unfortunate set of stairs.

Sometimes, you felt as if you’d been blessed as the main lead in the plot of a cheesy rom com, but after today the idea was really cemented in your head. Ok, look. . Jungkook was your hot neighbor, like very hot, unearthly hot, like he was handcrafted by God himself, kind of hot. Furthermore, only you and him resided on the sixth floor, living in a pair of tiny apartments right beside one another. Although that was all you had gathered so far, besides his name, it was enough to fill your head with delusions and daydreams of the man your eyes loved to gawk at every chance you got.

You read him very well, like the everlasting pages of your favorite novel. His silky hair was long and inched over the nape of his neck, he wore specs that sat perfectly on the bridge of his nose accentuating his big doe eyes. Though his features seemed soft his aura was borderline the complete opposite—a silver hooped piercing sat in the right side of his rosette lips while tattoos peeked right out of the sleeves of the white button up he usually wore.

You closed the door to your apartment, removed your shoes and hung your keys on the flathead thumbtack pierced into the wall by the front door.

The apartment felt even more scorching than the bustling sidewalks. After opening all three of the windows you were bestowed to have between your room and the living room, you turned on your fan and walked into the bathroom to draw a much needed cool bath. Stripping off your sweaty clothes, you stepped into the tub. For a minute, you were immersed in the utter silence floating around you—all your ears detected was the distanced whirring fan all the way from your room.

Behind the back of your eyelids, the world was dark and your thoughts brought you back to your encounters with Jungkook on the stairs just moments ago. Your interactions with the boy were usually extended to a whispered, ‘hi’ or ‘hello,’ never as prolonged as it played out today.

In your thoughts, Jungkook strolled by day and night, as you embraced every look, every utterance, every single time he brushed his hair back using his slender fingers. He was the cultivation of your desires and the reason why your heart strummed against your chest a bit harder the days you saw him leaving around 12PM every afternoon.

It baffled you how he always managed to look fucking good every single day—even during the hottest days of the summer, while you looked like vile beast he managed to look so perfect.

. . So fucking perfect.

The faint tingles traveling through your body, caused your skin to form goosebumps. The pulsation of your clit is what really began driving you to clouded thoughts to imagine his hands against you. You imagined the pads of his fingers to be soft mimicking a delicate velvet fabric and while you crumbled under his touch, he would murmur the filthiest of words against your ear.

Those ministrations could be enough to have you coming hard—he wouldn’t even have to fuck you. Shit, even looking at him was enough.

Being away from all of the toys you safely stored in your nightstand, you grabbed the detachable shower head and adjusted the water pressure, prepped your feet up on the rim of the tub aiming it in between your legs in an inevitable attack against your clit.

Your head lulled back in sure bliss as you fed your carnal desires, the only thing missing was him.

“Fuck—” How you longed for him to have you in this position, so sensitive to his sinful doings; so aroused for him. It was like a hunger your fingers, toys and this stupid shower head could not satisfy.

The vibration of his name dripped from your lips like a chant and you felt that bubbling fervor form in the pit of your stomach. Spurts of pleasure rushed out of you so intensely you were overwhelmed by the explosions of fireworks as soon as your orgasm erupted.

When your breath had settled and you finally felt like you could stand, you opted for a quick shower, rushing to get into your pajamas and plopped down on your bed right in-front of the fan for a nap, having your dreams quickly invaded by him.

Work sucked on Monday afternoons.

All you ever did was stare out of the ticket booth at the movie theater as the few customers who despised the weekend rush came in. Besides, there was rarely anything to occupy your mind with on slow nights like this. You had already sweeped and your co-worker, Namjoon was surveying the screening rooms for any shenanigans the younger crowds could possibly be rattling up.

You always left that up to him—he was the more intimidating one between the two of you anyway.

“Room 5 is a wreck,” Namjoon announced his entrance into the lobby, “I’m gonna go clean up.”

“Walkie me if you need help,” you tapped the walkie clipped onto your belt buckle and he nodded, grabbing the broom and a few rags.

Your stomach grew irritated as you continued golfing down copious amounts of candies but the truth was you were starving and had no time to eat breakfast this morning; let alone make something to bring to work to eat for lunch.

Namjoon was a film major. He was the spitting image of a cliche by the way—his parents wanted him to become a doctor but that wasn’t his passion so he ran away to the city and began trotting up the golden stairs to his dream. You wished you had even an ounce of his determination, he knew exactly where he wanted to go and how to get there while you still stood at the base of the mountain of your life. . unbeknownst on how to tackle it or which way it was to begin your way up to the summit.

There was nothing you had a passion for and quite frankly sometimes you were utterly clueless as to what your purpose was in life.

Had no dreams and no goals to strive towards; nothing extraordinary you expected to blossom in your future. There was nothing, nothing and more nothingness occupying the hours of your days.

“My child,” Seokjin walked in through the glass door, he looked like he'd been chilling in an oven.

“Seokjin,” you narrowed your eyes in his direction, “what are you doing here? I thought you never left the air conditioner in your office plus don’t you hate the movie theater?”

“You’re absolutely correct. The dimmed lighting here is horrid and I deserve better than that. .”

“Of course, you do.”

“But,” he leaned over the counter, “I saw your little neighbor boyfriend leaving the building today and I was fucking gagged.”

“Trust me, Seokjin. I know how good he fucking looks in that white button up. I’ve lived it.”

“No,” he squealed, “He had a black short sleeve shirt today and—”

“Spit it out, bitch.”

“He has a full fucking sleeve,” he squealed.

“No. Fucking. Way.” The pauses in between your words were not placed for dramatic effect—you were in fact attempting to paint a detailed mental image of that sinful man.

How unfair is it that he gets to walk around us mortals with our average looks while he exudes such grand flawlessness.

“Looks like someone owes me fifty bucks.”

The bet. . you had completely forgotten about that.

“I'll pass it over on Friday once I get paid.”

“I told you,” he began, “once a man gets one tattoo they’re usually covered in them.”

“Yea, but he has this soft look to him, you know?” you shrugged, “I thought he might have had a few. But a whole sleeve?”

“Jungkook is a walking juxtaposition.”

“I suppose he is.”

Seokjin sat on the counter emptying a handful of sweets into his palm, “what are you doing eating all of this candy anyway?”

“Uh,” your thoughts were still filtered towards Jungkook. You wanted to see him so bad, “I’m starving and just waiting on Namjoon to finish cleaning room five so I can go on my lunch break.”

“Namjoon as in the buff hottie with the deep voice?”

“I guess.”

“Room five?” You nodded.

“I’ll take one ticket for whatever the fuck you guys are showing right now.”

“Didn’t you say you hated it here?” You printed a ticket to. . you looked down, to the latest minion movie and ripped off the top half, “you complained about the lights or something.”

“Can you just give me a ticket? I need it to execute my master plan,” he rushed your actions in cutting the ticket you had printed, “besides you owe me for coming all the way down here with vital intel about your secret crush.”

“I owe you nothing. I’ll be paying half a hundred for that by the end of the week, remember?”

“Consider this,” he snatched the ticket from your grasp, holding it beside his toothy grin, “your down payment.”

Before you could form a further argument, Seokjin vanished from in front of you and sprinted down the main hallway to screening room five.

The best thing about your job were the designated days off you had throughout the week. Tuesdays and Fridays were yours to enjoy and while today was Tuesday your schedule was still jam packed with an abundance of errands to complete come the early morning.

You had paid your utility bills, finished your laundry, cleaned your apartment and even set out poultry to defrost by the time you made it back home. It had been a very productive day.

Your last stop was the grocery store.

Oftentimes, you’d wander aimlessly, losing yourself in each aisle wondering about how the better half lives, how much better life would be if you didn’t have to keep incessant reminders of your weekly budgets stamped to the back of your head.

How much easier life would be if money wasn’t such a big determinant in the choices we were forced to make in our day to day lives.

Oh, how much easier life would be.

You only grabbed the essentials for the next couple of weeks including—rice, greens, fruits, water, milk, meat, and a variation of breakfast options.

Temptation roamed in the air as you headed out of the cereal aisle you were face to face with a bakery section where an unhealthy amount of baked goods were sprawled out—practically blaring out your name. All of the delicious delights made your mouth water and you couldn’t help but gravitate deeper and deeper, guided by the aroma of the sweet desserts.

“Neighbor?” It was his earthy voice, the same one you’d only heard vibrate among the walls of the tiny hallway of the sixth floor the two of you shared.

“Jungkook?” You looked up from the brownies and your eyes met his figure, in the same clothes you usually saw him leave his apartment. It was his work uniform, “You work here?”

“Is that judgment in your tone I hear?”

“N-no,” You stammered. Was he fucking with you? He had to be fucking with you. “Of course not. I would never judge—”

“I was just playing, neighbor.” Phew.

“I always come here. How come I haven’t seen you before?”

“I’m usually baking in the back. I was just coming out to set these down,” he held up the dozen cupcakes sitting inside the boxed packaging.

“You bake?” Hopefully, you sounded more stunned than judgemental because you were i. fact stunned.

“I’m an aspiring pastry chef. I go to culinary school,” Jungkook, your beautiful, doe eyed, tattooed, pierced neighbor was also a baker. Ok.

For some reason that made him so much more attractive.

“I would not have been able to guess that even if I tried,” You mentally kicked yourself at the lack of filter in your words. You weren’t trying to offend him and hopefully he does not take it as such.

He chuckled—that’s a good sign, “People tend to simulate that very reaction but you can certainly knock on my door if you’re ever craving something sweet. I promise they are amazing.”

Craving something sweet?

Your thoughts traveled back to the enticing thoughts you possessed a few days ago while you took a bath, the vivid image of the water pressure against your cunt and the pure desire to have him near made you dizzy. And now he was near, just a couple of feet away.

A wave of warmth traveled through your extremities, the pulse on your clit turned to an overbearing throb, you wanted to rub your thighs and alleviate the feeling. But you remembered where you were, in the middle of the grocery store and Jungkook still stood right before you. Nevertheless, you tried to ignore the wetness pooling between your legs; dampening your panties.

“I practically poured out all of the basic details of my boring life. I think you owe me at least something about you.”

“There’s not much to tell,” you shrugged, “but I work at the movie theater down the street if that piques your interest at all.”

“It does. I love movies.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you there before.”

“Well, if I’m honest I haven’t gone in a long time but that’s only because work and school keep me pretty busy.”

The lust streaming through your body doubled to make your heart beat with fondness and you grew endeared in the way Jungkook’s eyes lit up when he talked about his aspirations to become a baker.

“You’ll have a free ticket waiting for you whenever your schedule clears up.”

“Promise you’ll join me when I decide to go.” His words carved themselves into your brain like a permanent tattoo, just as those decorating his arm. The fluttering feeling in your abdomen heightened as a result of the dithers, without being aware of it, that is the effect Jungkook had on you.

“As long as it’s on a Tuesday or Friday.”

“Deal.”

“I’ll see you around, Jungkook.”

“See you, neighbor.”

Thursday was the worst day of the week so far.

Technically you were supposed to be at work, it was already 4:00PM, but instead you were still home. Even just sitting down in the muggy atmosphere of your in the miniscule space, you were doused, staining your clothes with sweat.

You were not willingly suffering at the lack of mercy the scorching weather subjected the city and everyone in it to, unfortunately the power had gone out. And while usually you had the luxury of a fan to cool down, today you had nothing.

Your windows and front door were left wide open in an attempt to cool down the place and still you felt as if you were sitting inside a fucking oven set to hightest temperature. There was no use.

“Neighbor.” Jungkook called out lightly knocking on the opened door.

Jungkook? Not Jungkook again when you looked like an absolute wreck.

“Hey Jungkook,” he stood at the door frame, a wide grin painted on his lips—he held a to-go box in his hands, “you can come in.”

“Do you want me to shut the door?”

“Sure,” you gave in, it’s not like it was actually doing anything. Besides, the last thing you needed was one of the crazy residents from the lower floors coming to bug you.

Jungkook took a seat next to you on the couch, he wore a sleeveless top exposing all of the ink embellishing his skin, every line, every curve, every word was so intricate and seemed so unique to him.

“I didn’t know you had these many tattoos,” a small fib was a price to pay to not seem like a weirdo, “did any of them hurt?”

“Some did,” he pointed at his tricep, “mainly these and a few others but I have a high pain tolerance.”

“Well, they’re beautiful,” you scanned his arm some more. It was truly like a mural embodying the beauty of art, “were you a singer?” you signaled at the microphone sitting on his forearm.

“I guess you could say that,” he adjusted himself on the couch, his nylon shorts rode up his thighs and you just hoped he wouldn’t notice the way your eyes glanced down constantly. Jungkook didn’t notice though, he was too busy averting eye contact and scratching the back of his head, “My highschool friends and I used to make music. We recorded a mixtape.”

“I need a link to this mixtape. . like now,” You laughed hysterically.

“Oh no, you don’t.”

“Ok, ok,” Again, another surprise from the man you thought you had all figured out—every single day he surprised you more and more, “were you like a vocalist or a rapper?”

“Vocals mostly. I did try rapping once though but I sucked so badly they scratched it off the track.”

“At least they were honest and didn't let you crash and burn in public.”

“You should’ve seen me though. I thought I was the shit.”

Jungkooks giggles were everlasting as he recounted the many times their parents grew exhausted of kicking them out of their garages for their disturbances in the making of their great musical legacy.. He filled the room with vibrance. The longer you sat in the presence of Jungkook the more you were exposed to the colors that made Jungkook, Jungkook. Of course, you were intrigued by the phosphorescent hues allowing them to inch you closer in his direction. Wanting him to spare no details in the adventure of his life.

“What’s that?” you pointed at the packaging box beside him on the arm rest.

“Brownies,” he handed you the box, “I saw you eyeing them when you were at the bakery but you didn’t buy any. So, I figured I would bring you some.”

In your mind, this was his way of saying he was thinking about you—that’s what you chose to believe anyway.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. Besides, I wanna see what you think of my baking.” Jungkook’s eyes were bigger than usual behind his specs, he fidgeted with the hem of his shorts.

If only he knew, the actual taste of the brownies would hold no significance in your criticism. You would love them anyway simply because they came from him.

“How about we have one together?”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, “let’s go to my room. There’s two windows in there and I’m literally about to pass out from heat stroke out here.”

The two of you sat by each one of the windows, the box of his remaining six hand crafted sweet delicacies sat between the two of you on the nightstand.

“You ready?”

“Yes.”

“1, 2,” the two of you held the chocolaty dessert up to your mouth, “3.”

Even after just one bite your taste buds were enamored.

“What do you think?”

“They’re amazing, Jungkook. You’re an amazing baker.”

“You can call me Kookie, you know.”

You nearly choked after taking another bite, hurdling into a coughing spiral, “that’s so fitting. Kookie the pastry chef.”

“Forget I said it,” he shook his head, laughing.

“Wait, no,” you loved the soft tint of pink dusting his cheeks, “that could be the name of your future shop.”

“Kookie’s Cookies.”

“Kookie’s Cookies,” you confirmed, “and I wanna be credited for the idea too.”

“Better yet, you’ll be my business partner.”

“That’s not a good idea. I’ll eat everything and you’ll just end up bankrupt,” your eyes were set on the congested sidewalks outside your window—everyone was out likely catching a break from their scorching apartments but here you were melting away all at the expense of being in Jungkook’s company just for a bit longer.

“I wouldn’t mind as long as you’re with me.”

Those eight words sent your mind into a spiral, head first into the rabbit hole of your fantasies. You couldn’t really make out if he truly meant what you thought he meant.

“Jungkook. .”

“I mean it.”

“Please don’t make me believe there could actually be something here,” Your voice was low and your thoughts were a scribbled mess. There was not a single coherency in your being at that point in time.

“I’m not lying,” your name tasted saccharine on his tinted lips—much like the brownie he had baked for you, “I like you.”

“Jungkook. .” was all you could muster.

“I’ve liked you from the moment you moved into the building.”

A single strike of thunder traveled down your spinal cord, you felt paralyzed in that moment and his sweet sweet words just continued looping inside the walls of your skull.

You were malfunctioning; shocked.

It’s astonishing how oblivious and just plain stupid human nature can make a person. For the past months, you had concealed the schoolgirl crush you developed on Jungkook and convinced yourself that there was absolutely no way in hell he could like you back.

Your insecurities had deceived you and now you sit here after so long with a thumping beat in your heart, giddy with excitement and lowkey wanting to slap yourself for not having noticed earlier.

“You like me?”

Obviously, he just fucking said that. He nodded.

“I like you, too.” You finally said out loud.

The temperature continued to rise in the small bedroom and between the two of you the heat became unbearable. With each passing second, you could feel the streamline trickles of your sweat cascading down your temples; your entire body matter of fact.

If eyes were the windows to the soul then Jungkook’s chocolate gaze was compelling.

And they were calling out for you so loudly.

“What happens now?” He pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose.

“Can I kiss you, Jungkook?”

You caught on to Jungkook’s mannerisms and body language rather quickly within the past hour. For example, he was pretty straight forward with his words yet whenever he spoke his fingers fidgeted with a random object as a distraction, this time it was the black beaded bracelet sitting on his wrist.

He nodded yet again.

Your heaven resided in the comfort of Jungkook’s thighs. You realized it the moment you straddled him. The rich smell of sandalwood was a scent unique to him, so earthy and rich. It was the only thing you ever wanted to smell for the remainder of your time on earth.

After raking your hands through his soft hair you tugged at it a bit, guiding his face up towards you.

“If you want anything from me. You’re gonna have to use your words, Jungkook.”

“You know what I want,” his eyes traced the corners of your lips down to the intricate details, “just kiss me, please.”

There are an abundance of perfect scenarios in life. For one there was the idyllic scene of snowfall on Christmas day; the legendary creamy combination of cookies and cream; then, there was the way your lips danced against Jungkooks, composing a choreography so intricate and beautiful only the two of you could execute it.

You were in a haze, entirely stupefied and addicted to his soft and warm lips. Then, his hands snaked around your waist as he guided you back and forth on his lap. His covered erection rubbed against your clothed slit in a pace so slow, it was agonizing yet delectable. Jungkook pulled away, continuing to lead your movements against him. Your mouth remained agape and you couldn’t help the sounds escaping your lips.

You wanted to pinch yourself, you’d only ever dreamt of this. Was this all a fabrication of your dreams? You hope it wasn’t, it felt so good.

“God, I’ve always wanted to have you like this.” His voice was husk and he spoke in between grunts.

If today was dictated as your last day on earth, you’d die being the happiest woman.

His warm breath fanned your sweaty neck. A tickle ran down your back but you focused on the knot forming at your abdomen.

“I’m so close.”

“Let go for me.”

His commands were sweet like candy and the utters of his guidance to have you crumble on his lap were all you needed to send you over the edge.

“You were so good for me, darling.”

“Call me that forever.” Your knees were sore, your voice was hoarse and you were sweltered from head to toe but you craved more, you grew wetter just imagining what else could arise from this encounter.

“Darling?” You nodded. “Jungkook?” He hummed lightly, opening his eyes and lifting his head from where it rested on the wall.

“Are you tired?”

“I just had a long day yesterday.”

“Can I help you unwind?” your lower lip now tucked under your teeth, “can I touch you?”

“Please.”

Your hands tucked under the hemline of his shorts and underwear. The way you illustrated Jungkook in your dreams was close to what you would imagine a modern Greek God to look like and you quickly realized that was the case when his shirt lifted revealing that he should be the one on display in museums instead of those silly little statues.

Your chin rested on his shoulder, while your hand moved up and down the length of his cock. You couldn’t see it, not yet. But he felt so big in your palm.

The hushed moans and curses leaving him fueled you to maintain at the same pace. Your lips found themselves leaving wet kisses on his already dampened neck.

“Please—please don’t stop,” He was a stuttering mess, his hand was gripping the window still so tightly his knuckles turned white. Hypnotized by arousal Jungkook began meeting your movements, enraptured by his desire for release.

“You’re not being a very good boy, Jungkook,” you whispered in his ear, “besides I thought you were tired.”

“I’ll—I’ll be so good I promise,” he continued fucking himself into your hand.

Jungkook whined as soon as you released his cock from your grip. Instead you tucked off the pesky fabrics covering his lower half, with his help of course, your theories were proven to be correct. Jungkook, your hot neighbor with piercings and tattoos also had a pussy destroyer in between his legs because of course he did.

“There’s only two rules baby.”

“What are the rules?”

“You have to keep your hands to yourself and no coming until I say so. You got it?”

“Yes, darling.”

Opening the last drawer on your night stand you pulled out one of your vibrators and held it up for him to see, “is it ok if we use this?”

“Mhm.”

You shoved it in your pocket for later.

Taking him into your mouth, you began swirling your tongue in circular motions around the head of his cock. His labored pants were hushed and almost inaudible, you would’ve missed them if the two of you weren’t in complete silence.

Licking up and down his shaft you focused on pressing your tongue on the tip, as your hands began working, pumping him where your mouth couldn’t reach. You bobbed your head up and down occasionally, allowing the head of his cock pop in and out of your mouth. Slurp noises began invading the atmosphere around the two of you along with his whimpers. Your pace was fast and there were traces of your saliva coating his length entirely.

“Fuck darling,” his hands were reaching to grasp anything in his path but instead he ended up knocking everything off your night stand. “Y-Your lips were made to be around my cock. You know that?”

Jungkook’s praises were treats for your ego and you made sure to devour them in their entirety. He was a pleasant mess; his hair stuck out in all directions while his lips were swollen and vibrant with a scarlet hue as he kept biting down on them harshly. His glasses were slightly fogged and there were traces of saliva sitting on the corner of his mouth. All you wanted was to continue seeing him lose himself at your mercy.

You reached into your pocket and turned on the palm sized stimulator—you placed it against his balls before hitting the on button, setting off its vibrations. His head fell back and his hips buckled forward, causing you to gag around the majority of cock.

“I’m gonna come,” he cried out.

If anyone would’ve told you having Jungkook’s dick in your mouth would be this heavenly, you would live on your knees in front of him forever. Pleasuring him at every hour of every day but today you had different plans and once again he let out frustrated whimpers as you removed your mouth from around him.

“No—no, darling you’re fucking killing me. I need to come now,” he sounded desperate, “It hurts so bad. I need to come.”

“Don’t worry baby. We’re getting right to that,” you placed a kiss on his forehead.

“Did you bring any condoms?”

He shook his head, “I wasn’t exactly expecting things to go down this route.”

“Are you. .?”

“I’m clean. Are you?”

“I am.”

There was a timid breeze coming in through the opened window, it was enough to cool you down just a bit, well as cool as you could be without a fan.

Bouncing on Jungkook’s dick was even better than having him in your mouth. Sure, you loved the way he became a stuttering mess with the teasing of your tongue but having him deep inside of you, you felt like you were in your own heaven. On a deserted island somewhere with nothing but the swift breeze coming from the palm trees and his touch on your skin.

“You take me so well,” he whispered in your ear but you were too busy consumed by your own pleasure. Hyper focused on the way his hands dug into your waist; the way he swiftly pushed his cock in and out of you.

The sounds of your skin slapping against his blared through the room, as well as your profanities and his words of praise just as before.

Your nails dug into his shoulder as you felt a build up of tension tightening in the pit of your stomach, causing you to arch your back. Seemingly, the way you clenched around Jungkook he seemed to have noticed you were extremely close.

“Come for me darling,” with each word he buried his dick deeper into you.

It was a blissful paradise painted on the back of your eyelids as Jungkook continued to mold your insides with his dick, he was careful but rammed into you with such force, your voice was strained and you couldn’t hold it any longer. You finally came as sights of the beeming sun behind your closed eyes blinded you entirely.

“Come inside of me,” you managed; even more sweaty than how you began, absolutely tired and completely out of breath.

He chanted strings of your name as finally filled you up.

“Please come over more often and bring all of your brownies with you,” you were pressed up against him as he hugged your waist, placing a soft kiss on your head.

“How about we begin by going to that movie tomorrow?” It was so funny to you how Jungkook had practically just split you in two and now he was back to being soft spoken.

“It’s a date.”

It was now Friday, the power was finally back on around the city and Jungkook followed through on his plans to take you to the movies. The only problem was when you approached the theater you spotted your nosey landlord standing in line right beside Namjoon. “Before you say anything, Seokjin. Please just shut the fuck up.”

“You always think the worse of me,” he placed his hand on his chest, “all I was going to say is my Cupid’s bow is to thank for the two of you finally getting together.”

“In that case, thank you Seokjin,” Jungkook said.

“Don’t thank him.”

“Actually, please do. But the next time yall fuck in my building please keep it down. Just like the walls, the floors are also thin and the fifth floor did not appreciate your day of passion.”

“Seokjin, please go back to your own date,” you hissed, hoping no one else in line heard his little rant, “pretend we’re not here.”

Jungkook’s shame sat in his now red tinted cheeks, you peppered kisses on them to ease him.

“See, they can’t even keep their hands to themselves in public,” you heard Seokjin whisper.

This is going to be an interesting date.

a/n: this was pretty fun to write but supposed to be out on my birthday a couple days ago but i couldn’t meet the deadline sadly but please enjoy and disregard the smut scene if it’s bad. I tried lol my brain just wasn’t working 100%.

thanks for reading. comments, likes, reblogs and messages are always appreciated. let me know what you think ;)

#bts #bts smut #bts imagines #bts reactions #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook drabble #very brief mention of seokjin x namjoon #bangtan sonyeondan #jungkook x you #bts jungkook smut

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strangerstilinski · 8 months

Text

𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary; steve takes care of his sick gf

warnings; no use of y/n, (steve refers to reader as ‘girl’ but no mentions of specific anatomy i don't think), multiple descriptions of vomiting, steve being stupidly sweet, casual/non-sexual nudity, sickfic, fluff

word count; ~4k

a/n; i wrote 99% of this while i was sick and exhausted myself, so i'm not insanely happy with it??? but, uh.. fuck it? right? also this is my first time posting something on here that isn't DOB so pls, pls be nice — i beg you.

You had thought it would get better.

You'd thought that sleep would be enough to get rid of the overpowering warmth that had begun to prickle uncomfortably under your skin, the congestion that left your head feeling like it was just a little bit too big, too heavy, for your body. The better part of the last twelve hours have been spent curled up in bed, hoping to sleep it off.

You're not entirely sure what illness is to blame for your current state, but you're cursing each and every possible one as you stumble into the bathroom and fall to your knees in front of the toilet. An immediate ache from the collision against the floor goes ignored, as does the cold that bites at your shins through the glossy tiles.

Now, as your body rolls and tenses with heaves and coughs that have you spilling the remains of your dinner from the night before into clean porcelain, you can't quite believe that you'd dared to be so naively optimistic.

Time passes in that horrible way it always does when you feel poorly, too slow at times and a total blur at others. Your head has been pillowed on your arm at the edge of the toilet for one of those blurred stretches, time fuzzy while you catch your breath. You hear the loud trill of the phone ringing out from down the hallway and your head shoots up at the sudden noise. You intend on hobbling out of the bathroom to answer it, but the too-quick motion of your head snapping to attention has your stomach turning all over again.

The ringing continues as you upend the final contents of your stomach, and the grating noise of the telephone finally dies off only to pick back up again just as your puking turns into nothing more than dry-heaves, body still protesting despite there being nothing left inside of you to give.

When the roiling of your stomach settles slightly, it takes all of your strength to pull yourself to your feet, flushing the toilet and grabbing the bottle of perfumed bathroom spray to mask the lingering smell that's doing absolutely nothing to ease your nausea.

You fumble for a moment as you locate your thermometer, placing the end of the small glass tube under your tongue as you lean onto your elbows over the sink, head dropping weakly as you wait. When you pull the device from your lips a few minutes later, the little red line reads somewhere around a hundred, and you drop it to the back of the counter with a huff.

Your weight continues rest heavily on the edges of the sink as you flick on the tap and proceed to take a few long sips straight from the stream of cold water, rushing to take in grateful gulps. It clears some of the bitterness from your tongue, washing away the rancid taste of bile and stomach acid while settling cooly in your feverish body.

You push back up, weight resting on your palms until you can regard your unusually pallor complexion in the mirror. Your eyes are bleary, a little wet still with tears from your battle with your own body a few minutes before. The sight of just how truly unwell you look has your stomach turning all over again, the cold water in your stomach suddenly feeling as if it's moving in heavy, churning waves inside of you, as if it's fighting to break free.

You barely make it back to the toilet before you're retching and dumping back out all of the water that you'd forced into your body perhaps a bit too quickly.

You're so exhausted by the time your stomach settles once more, you don't manage more than flushing the toilet and misting the air with another quick spritz of freshener before you've slumped against the wall and begun to doze.

When your boyfriend eventually comes knocking at your front door, the sound isn't enough to rouse you, not even when the noise grows a little more frantic from anxiety, palms slamming against the surface paired with muffled shouts of concern through the thick wood.

You remain entirely unaware as an increasingly worried Steve Harrington begins searching for your spare key with muffled curses. He nearly upends the potted plant you have outside your door, kicking your doormat across the hallway in his haste to unlock your door and shove his way into your apartment. Steve stumbles through several rooms before he finds you in the bathroom and his steps falter at the sight that awaits him.

You look so pathetic it's startling; curled in on yourself in a way that makes you appear smaller, weak and innocent, younger even. Your head is tipped against the wall, lolled to the side until your nose and chin are nearly touching your shoulder. He knows it has to be wreaking havoc on the muscles in your neck, and he nearly winces at the thought, pushing further into the room and squatting down in front of you. Steve's hand finds your cheek, supporting some of the weight of your head to straighten your spine just a touch as he assesses the sickly pallor your skin has taken.

“Oh, honey.” Steve says softly, thumb stroking from your jaw to the apple of your cheek and back down again.

The soft touch is enough to finally wake you and he watches your eyes blink heavily, feverish confusion pulling your brows together as you struggle to focus on the face in front of you. You pout at him and the sight of your lip jutting out is so cute that Steve fails to notice your arm rising weakly from where it was blocked by the toilet. Not until it's too late.

A honeysuckle scented mist sprays in his direction, forcing him to flinch back in surprise as the perfume invades his nostrils.

“Jesus!” Steve exclaims in surprise, hacking slightly at the taste of it on his tongue, “Baby, what the hell?”

Your nose scrunches up as both your arm and the spray bottle fall heavily into your lap. You blink at him slow, “Smells like vom in here.” You explain meekly.

“It smells fine.” He tries to reassure you, pulling the de-odorizer from your weak grip and setting it on the countertop behind himself and effectively out of your reach.

“Wha're you doing 'ere?” You question in a rasp, shaky hand grabbing ahold of his wrist as if trying to prove to yourself that he's real and not some fever-induced hallucination.

“You weren't pickin' up my calls,” He tells you softly, thumb beginning to move across the heated skin of your cheek again, “I knew you were plannin' on staying in to get some cleaning done. When you didn't answer my mind kinda ran wild. Thought you might've slipped and fallen and cracked your head off the kitchen counter or somethin'. I dunno, I just.. I got worried, sweetheart. Came to check in for my own peace of mind,” His gaze trails the length of your body, taking in your wrinkled tshirt, your bare feet, your clammy skin, the puffiness around your eyes, “I'm glad I did.”

“‘'m sorry I didn't pick up the phone,” You apologize quietly, your gaze drifting to the toilet for a moment before slowly meeting his again, “Was busy puking my guts out.”

The way your lip pulls up at the corner from your own dry humor has Steve cracking a smile, his voice fond when it sounds again.

“I see that,” He says with a sigh, “How long you been sick?”

You try to shrug but your shoulders barely move, your body too weak to manage more than a small twitch of your muscles, “Started feeling shitty last night before bed. Slept a lot. Got sick when I woke up this afternoon.” As if suddenly realizing the lack of brightness coming in through the bathroom window, your raspy voice comes again, “Time s'it?”

“Five-ish,” Steve tells you with a frown, pretty brown eyes flicking over your face, “You haven't eaten anything?”

You give him a small shake of your head, his large hand supporting most of the weight of your skull as you do so, “M'sick.”

He sighs, “You still gotta eat, honey. Have to get something in your stomach if you're gonna get your strength back.”

You shake your head again, sad eyes meeting his, “I'll just throw it up. Don't want to get sick again.”

Steve smiles at you pityingly, a sad thing, “We'll try something real small to start, how's that?”

“How small?” You ask nervously.

“Some soup?”

You shake your head.

“Just broth and some crackers?” He bargains.

Your stomach rolls at the mere thought and it must show on your face because he sighs heavily.

“Dry toast?” He tries.

Your eyebrows pull together, but the thought doesn't immediately make you queasy, so you give him an indecisive shrug.

“Let’s try some toast, yeah, honey?” Steve says softly.

His fingers gently brush your hair back from your face and your mind whirls in realization.

“Oh god,” You bemoan weakly, “'s there puke in my hair?”

“No,” He says a little to quickly, “No, baby, there's nothing in your hair.”

You give him a look to say that you don't believe him for a single second, but he's looking at you so fondly that your expression melts away into something soft almost immediately.

“You want me to tie your hair back?” Steve asks, already turning around to peek at the bathroom countertop where there's a mess of hair ties and clips littering the surface.

“The big one.” You tell him, nodding vaguely in the direction of your favorite scrunchie.

He turns back around with the puffy material pinched between his fingers, already combing your hair back and collecting it in a bundle with gentle hands. The sensation of air meeting the clammy nape of your neck feels so good that you let out a small noise of relief, leaning forward to give him more room while he tries to smooth out the lumps in your hair with his fingers.

Once he's managed a messy ponytail, his wide palms rest on the sides of your neck, thumbs ghosting along your jawline as he frowns at the feverish sweat on your brow.

“You taken your temperature at all?” He questions in concern, his fingers meeting your forehead and somehow managing to feel blessedly cool against your overheated skin, “You feel like you're burnin' up, sweetheart.”

“Hundred or so.” You tell him, eyes falling shut as you lean into the feeling of his hand against your sweaty skin.

Steve hums, an unhappy sound, “That's not too bad. Not good by any means, but it's nothin' to be too worried about, huh?” He sounds like he's trying to reassure himself more than you, so you merely nod against his hand. He sighs after a moment, “Right. C'mon. Up we go.” He urges softly, arm curling around your back with one hand gripping at your hip as he pulls you to your feet.

You're not sure how he manages it so effortlessly, the only hint of his strain is the soft grunt he lets out when you collapse against his chest and knock a little bit of the wind from him. You bury your nose into the dip of his clavicle, the strip of skin and scarce chest hair poking out from beneath the collar of his stretched shirt is soft to the touch and masculine smelling and overall a little dizzying — although, the way you sway against him has you wondering if maybe that's just the fever.

“Toast.” Steve reminds you softly, hand slipping beneath your baggy sleep shirt — one that had been his shirt, once upon a time — to run his thumb over the soft, overheated skin at your hip.

You grumble something that's not quite disapproval or approval, a weak sounding thing to protest the thought of moving from your current position, but with an endeared sigh and a soft press of his lips to your sweaty temple, Steve's manhandling you into a better position. Your feet end up over the tops of his, your arms curled up underneath his own to grip weakly onto the backs of his shoulders. He holds you steady with one hand at the center of your spine and the other spread over your backside in likely the least sexual touch he's ever graced to that area of your body.

You manage a weak murmur about him copping a feel and he laughs. It falls over your ear in a breathy little chuckle as Steve carefully waddles the two of you down the hall. His arms continue to hold you tight to his chest while walks you back around the corner leading into your small kitchen, flicking the overhead light on as he goes.

“Hows'it you're mouthy even when you're on your deathbed?” He asks, a small grin on his face as he gently gets you settled up onto one of the kitchen stools where you can rest while he makes you food.

You collapse onto your elbows against the countertop as soon as he releases you, cheek resting heavy in your palm as you peer up at him.

“Dunno..” You tell him quietly, eyes flicking over Steve's face slow in a way that you didn't quite manage in the dim light of the bathroom.

His hair looks a little fluffier than normal, soft and messy in a way that makes you want to run your hands through it, tug soft on the strand that dips down over his forehead and curls toward his eye in that effortlessly beautiful kind of way. Caramel swirls prettily with the darker shades of brown and gold in his eyes, pink lips pulled into a barely-there grin when he turns back toward you after grabbing a half eaten loaf of bread from the cupboard.

You're watching him with a dazed sort of admiration, “How s'it you look so pretty even when I'm on my deathbed?” You counter dreamily, arms crossing against the cool countertop so that you can rest your temple over the tops of them when your head suddenly starts to feel a little too heavy, vision swaying.

Steve laughs softly as he gets two slices of bread into the toaster, “I'm not sure there's a correlation between my good-looks and your health,” The sound of his amusement fades out when he looks back at you and finds your new position, “Oh, Honey..” He says simply, the words pitying.

“'m dizzy.” You tell him with closed eyes. The darkness behind your eyelids doing nothing to slow the spinning in your brain.

“Well I'm sure that not eating all day is at least partially to blame for that,” Steve says softly, “Your body can't fight the virus if you don't give it any fuel.”

You pout petulantly, knowing he's probably right, “You're annoying when you're smart.”

The swirling blackness behind your closed eyes slows, your breathing following suit as you relax against the counter.

“C'mon, sit up, sweetheart.”

The sound of his voice startles you and the quiet clink of a ceramic plate being set down on the counter beside your head has you deducing that you might have fallen asleep for a few moments. You make a small noise of surprise as your gaze moves to the food on the plate, plain dry toast. Steve has sliced it into cute, neat little triangles for you and your heart melts a little at the gesture.

Hands on your arms guide you gently into an upright position as Steve crowds up against your side, letting you rest your weight into the wall of his chest when your head swims a little from the movement. You grab a slice of lightly toasted bread from the plate in front of you and bring it to your lips, nibbling slow at the corner with your eyes closed, trying to focus on the way you rise and fall with Steve's breaths where you're resting against him — the expansion of his lungs beneath his ribs rocking you in a slow, steady movement while you attempt to force down comically tiny bites.

Steve drags his palm along the length of your spine, drawing a smooth path up and down as you eat.

“Doin' good, babe,” He praises softly, his free hand falling to rest lightly on your stomach where he begins to trace tiny circles over your shirt, “You don't have to eat it all. Just need to get a little something in your stomach.”

You hum around your sliver of toast, crumbs raining down on both of your chests and clinging to the fabric of your shirts as you chew. It takes a stupidly long time, but you manage to finish a single triangle of bread, and Steve continues with his soothing touches all the while.

He feels you grip the hem of his shirt in your fist, your sweaty face turning into his chest with an unintelligible murmur, and he brings his hand on your back up to rest between your shoulder blades.

“You done for now?” Steve asks gently, fingers rubbing softly into the tense muscles beneath your neck as you nod, “Probably haven't had anything to drink either, huh?”

You shake your head and a frown pulls at your lips when he takes a small step away from you, “Wha'-?”

“Gonna grab you a glass of water, alright? Then we can take a bath. Get you all clean and relaxed.”

He's already stepping away before you can protest, though the phantom sensation of the water that had re-emerged from your mouth an hour or so earlier has you frowning anxiously.

Unaware of your silent distress, Steve grabs a glass and turns on the tap, the loud rush of the water hitting the sink basin filling the room while he sticks his hand under the flow. He stands like that for a few moments, fiddling with the temperature a couple of times before he fills the cup. He returns to you only moments later, settling the glass into your palms with more gentleness than you think you've ever experienced.

As both of your trembling hands lift the water to your lips, you take a small sip, frowning and lowering the glass only a moment later.

“It's warm.” You complain weakly, face scrunching up in disgust as you meet his eyes.

Steve nods and his hand urges your own to bring the glass back to your lips, “Cold water will shock your stomach,” He tells you softly, “Gotta be warm if you don't wanna get sick. My strong girl just ate half a piece of toast, you don't want to immediately throw it back up, do ya?”

“No.” You murmur around the lip of the glass, taking another careful sip.

“No,” Steve agrees, wide palm coming up to brush a few loose wisps of hair back from your forehead, “Doing good, honey, real good. Just a few more sips and we'll get you in the bath.”

You frown at the reminder, clutching your cup to your chest with both hands, “Oh god,” You whisper in horror, “I smell.. I smell really bad, don't I?”

“You don't smell,” Steve promises with a soft smile, though it's not entirely convincing, “A bath'll help your head, though. You said you were dizzy, yeah?”

“Yeah,” You agree quietly, “Feels, like, swollen. Like my head's gonna explode.. But also 's spinny.”

“The steam will help,” He promises, “And you'll feel better when you're fresh and clean, y'know?”

You sigh around another sip of the warm water, a reluctant nod against the hand resting over your forehead. He urges you to drink a little more before he's dragging you back toward your bathroom.

You're forced to sit on the closed lid of the toilet, watching with tired eyes as Steve flits in and out of the room — adjusting the flow of the water in the bathtub and digging through your basket of bath salts and filling a bowl from the sink tap for reasons you can't imagine but don't bother to question aloud.

Instead, you wait. The loud rush of water filling the tub lulls you into a sort of trance until your eyes are slipping shut, head swaying heavily on your shoulders. The steam filling the room smells nice, lavender salts and oils having been added to the bath at some point, and the smell has you beginning to relax.

“Not fallin' asleep on me already, are you?”

You blink slow, heavy eyelids fluttering as you open your eyes to find Steve standing in front of you, already stripped down to his boxers. He steps between your legs to pull your shirt up over your head and you're down to only your underwear with just that one quick move. When he pulls you up, gentle hands cupping your elbows in case you sway on your feet, you lean into his bare chest with a contented sigh.

“This is nice.” You murmur, rubbing your cheek against the soft hairs littering his chest.

“This isn't even the relaxing part, honey,” Steve chuckles softly, his hands falling to your hips to rid you of your final article of clothing, “Come on. In you go.”

He helps you step over the lip of the tub, one hand in yours and the other on your waist to steady you. The water is hot and silky against your skin, a gasp on your lips when it first licks at your calves. It sends blissful shivers down your spine as you settle down into it, your eyes falling shut with a contented groan as you curl your arms around your knees and bow your head to rest over them.

You're only alone for a moment before Steve is settling in behind you, his long legs caging you in as they stretch the length of the tub. The water flowing from the tap cuts off and the room is thrust into startling silence, the thundering sound of the bathtub filling being replaced with the quiet sloshing of the water as Steve adjusts himself beside you.

You gasp in surprise when a warm stream of water falls over your shoulder and you crack your eyes open to watch as Steve cups his hands again, bringing the water to the back of your neck and releasing it in a warm rush down your spine. You hum in approval and he repeats the action a few times, dropping handfuls of water over your back as the steam works to lessen the pressure in your head.

A few minutes pass before Steve's maneuvering you around with big hands at your ribs, your thighs splaying wide over either side of his knees as he settles back against the end of the tub. Water sloshes around you with all the movement, licking high on your skin until you rest chest to chest, your face tucking into the damp curve of his neck.

“You alright like this?” Steve checks, his voice unbearably soft as the words fan out over cheek, “You comfortable?”

You hum happily, eyes closed, “So comfy, Stevie.”

He brings a big, bath-warmed palm up to rest on your shoulder, wet fingers trailing along your skin and leaving tiny oil-sheened drops of water behind that bead down the length of your arm and back as they fall.

Just as your mind starts to slip into that space between wakefulness and sleep, a startlingly cold cloth is pressed to your forehead. The chill has you reeling back slightly, a betrayed sort of frown on your face as you peer at your boyfriend who's holding a damp washcloth in his hand.

“To help bring down your fever,” Steve supplies in response to your silent question, “Sorry. I should've warned you.”

You settle back against his chest with a small huff, hand curling around his wrist as a way of telling him it was okay to try again. The cold doesn't shock you nearly as much the second time around, taking only a moment to warm into a comfortable coolness against your skin.

A deep breath fills your lungs with the sweet smell of lavender combined with the lingering musk of Steve's cologne. Your fingers trail over damp skin until you can settle your palm against his pec, blunt nails tracing slow patterns on his skin through the short damp hairs.

“Thank you,” You whisper over his chest, your breath causing his nipple to pebble up against the steam-thickened air, “So good to me, Steve. 'm so glad I have you.”

The wet cloth against your forehead disappears only to return a moment later, cool again from having been dipped back into the bowl of cold water Steve had placed beside the tub. Your breath stutters a bit at the chill, body tensing and relaxing back against him only a second later.

“How many times have you been the one taking care of me, huh?” Steve asks, fingers dragging up and down along the skin at the outside of your thigh in a soothing touch, “And I'd say you're in much better condition now than I was at least a few of those times.”

“'s different,” You argue quietly, “You were hurt. You're always getting hurt.”

“And you're always there to take care of me,” Steve agrees, “So I'm gonna take care of you. 'cause we got each other's backs, don't we, honey?”

His voice is smooth like silk to your ears, his big hand still trailing softly along your skin. His fingers find their way to your shoulder, the gentle drag of his knuckles skating along your jaw, the apple of your cheek, the length your brow bone, tiny streaks of moisture left behind in his wake.

“Yeah,” You murmur against his skin, tipping your head to place a small kiss to the corner of your boyfriend's jaw, “We do.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve x reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington sickfic #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington #stranger things

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recuira · 8 months

Text

after hours

after hours : a live action buggy x fem!reader fanfiction

for some odd reason, you have no idea who he is. and he fucking loved that.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

chapter one chapter two chapter three chapter four chapter five

chapter six | drunk. drool. darkness.

her pov;

I felt like an idiot. Like a fool.

When I came downstairs the following morning, with a pounding headache nearly blinding my vision, I spotted my mother collapsed on the couch rather than in her own bed. The kitchen was surprisingly clean, as well as the dining room table. She definitely didn't tidy up after that disaster of a night, so who did?

I walked past the stairs and into the kitchen, attempting to search for any kind of medicine to hopefully soothe the aching headache I had. I sorted through a kitchen cabinet before finding a small bottle of painkillers my mother was prescribed when her illness was first diagnosed. I placed two tablets in my mouth and dipped my head underneath the sink faucet, pouring a bit of water into my mouth to swallow the pills. Stepping back, I grabbed a pot from the stove, glaring at my sleeping mother.

I dropped it on the tiled floor.

In a split second, she shot up awake, groaning. "What the hell was that?!" She spat, grabbing her head while also covering her eyes.

"Good morning," I said as I forced a smile. I placed the pot back atop of the stove. "What happened last night?"

"Why the fuck should I know?" She cursed, laying back down.

"Where'd Buggy go?"

"Home?"

I frowned. I wasn't going to get any answers from her.

I ventured back upstairs into my bedroom where I could let my eyes settle in the cold and darkness. I closed the door behind me and approached my bed but before I climbed on it, I noticed a small green blur in the corner of my vision. Turning my head, I found the small turtle stuffed animal laying on the floor.

I treated my stuffed animals like they were living. To let them touch the floor rather than my own bed would be a sin.

Why was it on the floor?

Then it hit me.

Buggy threw it there.

I sat on my bed, holding the plushie close to my person. Last night, after dinner, I stormed up to my bedroom to be alone and to calm down due to the big fight my mother and I had. Then he came into my room to console me. Then-

"Oh my god."

I couldn't believe it. I practically threw myself onto him. Then he turned me down and after that, my mind drew a blank. I recalled vague bits here and there but the most clear occurrence was that of him leaving. Did I kick him out? Or did he leave willingly?

I touched my mouth with the stuffed animal. The feeling of his lips on mine was something I couldn't forget. For such a rough and rugged man, his lips and touch were so soft. I smiled to myself before falling onto the bed, my eyes drifting to a close.

Before I thought more about all of this, I needed to get rid of this headache.

-=-

I felt so stupid. Like a clown.

As I remembered more about the event, the more my self-esteem dropped. I never, in a thousand years, would have ever imagined myself getting drunk on red wine and then throwing myself onto a man with a red, clown nose. I frowned. His nose wasn't the issue. I liked him. I really did. He was kind and thoughtful for someone who used to be a bloodthirsty pirate. He went out of his way to please me which no one has ever done before.

And how do I thank him?

By making out with him and then kicking him out after he didn't reciprocate. I invite him over for dinner then throw him out.

This is why I hated alcohol.

It made stupid people do stupid things.

I was completely embarrassed with myself- so embarrassed, in fact, that I didn't reach out to Buggy for an entire month. How could I possibly be able to face himself after such an incident? Would I not mention it? Do I shake his hand and apologize and ask him to never bring it up again? Or do I kiss him again and see if my effort will mean something to him this time?

No, I'm an idiot. I ruined such a great friendship due to a few too many glasses of cheap red wine.

I blamed my mother for this entirely- and myself, of course. But if it weren't for her selfish and conniving personality, Buggy wouldn't have been invited for dinner. He and I would still be talking. I would see him everyday like I had been.

I vowed to my mother that as soon as I made enough money, I was moving out and cutting all ties with her. She simply laughed at me.

And so, for the past month, I kept my promise and sought out to look for jobs. Nothing dirty, of course.

I landed a waitress gig at a small run-down pub that hardly housed any customers other than drunken pirates and businessmen. I've only been here a few times before and it was the same pub I met Buggy at. Ever since that night, I haven't returned until today. The owner told me that the blue-haired piratehardly inhabited this bar which I was thankful for. I still needed to properly digest everything and when I was ready to confront him, I would. I just hoped it would be soon.

I was surprised to see that he didn't reach out either.

Maybe I scared him off.

As I cleaned off one of the tables, I tried to ignore the loud yells from behind me. Surprisingly, there was a huge flood of new patrons. My boss told me there was a soccer game and that's why everyone decided to eat and drink at the same place.

I didn't mind it too much. It meant more tips.

The rest of the night went by fast and just as we neared closing, I sat by myself in a corner booth, counting the change and money I made in just a few hours. One hundred and twenty berries. I smiled to myself, recounting to see if my math was correct.

Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen-

The bell above the door jangled as someone walked inside. I kept my head low and proceeded to count before I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"We're not closed yet, Y/N. Go assist that customer, please." The man pointed at a booth. "Now."

I huffed and stood up, slipping the loose change into a pocket in my apron. I grabbed the notepad and a pen and started towards the booth.

With a closed-eye smile, I greeted the patron. "Hello, what can I get for you tonight?

"Y/N?"

I opened my eyes and there he sat. "Buggy," I whispered.

I nearly cringed.

His long blue hair was tied in a loose ponytail with the same striped bandanna wrapped around his scalp. His makeup was streaking down his sweaty face. The buttons of his striped vest were misaligned with the wrong slots. His blue-painted fingernails were chipped. And the worst of it, he wrank of liquor.

He was swaying in his seat, his arms resting across the table.

"H-Haven't-" hiccup! "-seen you in a while," He smirked. "You miss me?" His words slurred and his green eyes were nearly swollen shut. I frowned at this and took a seat beside him, nudging him to the other side of the booth. He giggled and his arm lifted before slinging over my shoulder.

"What's going on?" I whispered, hoping my boss wouldn't see me.

"What? Nothing!" He murmured.

"You're shitfaced. Why?"

"I dunno'. Got bored..." Buggy hummed and smiled up at me. His fingers began to mess with my hair. "Yer' working now?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Well, I wouldn't know! I haven't seen you in years..." He pouted.

"It's been a month."

"Whatever. Get me a beer, will ya?"

I laughed. "No! You're already too far gone. I'll get you a water." I pulled myself away from him and stood up, making my way behind the counter. Pouring him a glass of water, I watched as he proceeded to hiccup, playing into the drunkard stereotype all too well. Why was he like this? I've never seen this before. Why did he drink so much? As I approached him, he reached for me. I whacked his hand away and slid the cup toward him. This time, I sat across from him.

He glared at the drink before chugging it all, some water dripping down his stubbled chin. I crossed my arms and examined him. He was a complete and utter mess. It almost disgusted me to see him in this light. Someone I respected so much was now stooping to the same level as my mother.

"Buggs, what's happening here?"

"What?" He tilted his head. "Yer' supposed to be my waitress. You haven't taken my order yet," The pirate grumbled, reaching to grab at the paper menu. He squinted his eyes as he read it. "Get me a sandwich. With... uhm, oh! Meat, cheese, and lettuce." He met my gaze and smiled widely, exposing every single tooth.

"Not until you tell me what's going on," I demanded, pointing down at the table. "Is this some ploy to get back at me?"

"W-What? Back at you?" He snickered. "Yer' cute, kiddo."

"Don't call me that."

"Cute or kiddo?"

"Both."

"What would you rather me say?" He smirked and leaned forward, gesturing his hand for me to get closer. I did, also leaning in. "Your- hehe, your tits look amazing in that top?"

I gasped and pushed him back. "Fuck you!"

"What?! Which would you rather me call you?" He pursed his red-stained lips together.

"By my fucking name, you idiot."

"Okay! Y/N," He started, letting out a soft burp. "Where's my sandwich?"

"You'll get it once you start talking."

"I've been talking! I can't win with you." His eyes rolled. "Women."

I hit him atop of the head this time and he yelped, immediately shrinking down as his arms hovered over his head.

"You're the one who kicked me out! Why are you still acting so mad... I'd think you'd be happy to see me again, but- but, I was wrong..."

"I am happy to see you but-"

"You are? Really?" The look on the clown's face broke my heart. He was so surprised, so shocked to find out that I missed his company. “I-I’m glad.” His head dropped for a moment and he looked down at his lap. “I’ve been, uh, g-going through a lot.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it.” He let out a loud hiccup then clutched his throat. “That one hurt.”

“Why can’t you tell me?”

His broad shoulders shrugged back. “Maybe I will. I just need something- uh, something to eat.”

Getting something in his stomach might help him sober up fast but my mom always told me that the only way to sober up was through time. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

“Now?”

“Yes, right now.”

I got up from the table and began to walk toward the kitchen but a floating hand grabbed at my wrist. It gave my arm a tight tug before I looked back at Buggy. I raised an eyebrow but he just gave me a toothy grin then let go. Venturing into the kitchen, I let the chef know that it was the last meal of the night. He was reluctant because it meant he needed to put out his cigarette but he gave me a firm nod and told me to wait a couple of minutes. I agreed with him then went to peek on the blue-haired clown. He rested his head on his hands, his eyes closed. His long eyelashes casted a dim shadow over his eyelids. His lips parted, a small drop of drool running down his chin. Was he asleep?

Before I could admire him any further, the chef tapped on my shoulder and handed me the tray of food. A sandwich sat upon the plate with potato salad to the right of it. I thanked him and brought the meal to Buggy. I set it in front of him then took a seat.

“Buggy?” I nudged his shoulder. “Your food is here.”

“I’m not hungry.”

What? “What? You just said you were.”

“I lied. I want to go home.”

“Then why did you come here?”

“Because the other bar kicked me out ‘cause I had too much to drink,” He mumbled into his arm. “I wanted to drink more but then I- I saw you. So I wanted to stop.”

“You stopped drinking because of me?”

“I was drinking because of you.”

I furrowed my eyebrows together. What was he babbling about now? Before I could protest, he reached forward, grabbing half of the sandwich with a severed hand. He raised his head and took a bite. He chewed for a few seconds then swallowed. He ate the half then slid me the plate. So much for not being hungry.

I smiled to myself and started to eat, taking the last sip of the glass of water I had brought to him. I finished eating then wiped my mouth with a napkin.

Taking a few bills out of my pocket, I placed it on the table to cover the meal.

But then it hit me.

I could pay him back.

“Buggy, I have great news,” I exclaimed with a wide grin and pulled the loose change out of the apron pocket, the various coins rocking against the table before falling flat. The pirate sat up, a yawn escaping his mouth.

“What?”

“I can pay you back now! I have more than enough!”

“I don’t want you to,” He whispered, sliding it toward me. “I have more than enough. You’re the one who needs it, not me.”

“But you said I could pay you back. That was our deal.”

“Y/N-“

“Take the money, Buggy. Please.”

His green eyes met mine for a split second before he reluctantly gave in. He swiped the money toward him and folded the bills before hiding them away in his pocket. I smiled at him, taking the change he didn’t want to keep.

I looked at him, staying quiet. Was he already sobering up? He was talking normally now; he was hardly slurring his speech. “Can I walk you home?”

He cocked a grin. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Please?”

“Yeah, sure. Alright.”

I clocked out of work and helped Buggy out of his seat. On the walk back to his abode, Buggy leaned against me. My arm wrapped around his shoulders as I guided him down the street. He stumbled with each step and if it weren't for me, I was sure he would've fallen. The man relied on me heavily.

The front door opened with a loud bang. A wave of cold air brushed over me and I shivered. The pirate buried his face into my neck. A red blush washed over my face before I helped him onto his bed. He giggled to himself and extended his foot. I raised an eyebrow.

"Take my shoes off, please." He whispered, his body falling back to lay flat on the bed with his leg still straight out.

I knelt down and slipped each of his boots off. I set them to the left of the nightstand. Standing up, I closed the front door and dropped my backpack beside it. I approached the man and took a seat upon the edge of the bed, turning to look down at him. His eyes were closed. "Buggy, I'm gonna get going now. We can talk tomorrow, okay? When you're sober," I spoke, my voice barely above a whisper. “Do you need anything before I go?” I was met with silence. I let out a small huff, my hand resting on his leg. I caressed it. I then pulled my hand away but before I could stand up, his hand took my wrist and he gripped it, tightly. I looked back at him. He was now sitting upward.

"Please, no. Please stay the night," He begged, lunging forward. His head fell into my lap and his arms wrapped around my waist. "Don't leave again. Please."

I froze. My eyes grew wide, my arms levitating above the man.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I nodded my head even though he couldn't see me. "Okay, okay." I dropped my hands to rest on his back, tenderly stroking the fabric of his vest. He let out a satisfied hum and remained completely silent. While it wasn't the most comfortable position, I stayed still because it was cozy for him.

I've never seen him in this mood before. I thought alcohol would make him an angry man, maybe rather devious or feisty, but no. It made him sad. It made him vulnerable. Alcohol took his rough exterior and melted it away, revealing a soft side I've never seen before.

His face nuzzled into my thigh.

I listened to his light breathing and brought my hands up to run through his thick blue hair. I was surprised his hair was so long. It was nice, though. It was silky smooth as well.

"Y/N," Buggy whispered into my leg.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry for disappointing you."

A frown stayed on my face. I felt my eyes and nose sting. "What?"

"I've done nothing but trouble you. I'm sorry. I didn't realize I would be this much of a burden in your life. I thought I could help but-"

"What are you going on about?"

His head raised and revealed a soaking wet face. A stream of tears ran down his face, his makeup smearing even more than before. I gasped. He sniffled and grimaced. "I look so stupid, don't I?"

"You don't, Buggers. I'm just trying to figure out why you're crying," I whispered, raising my head to cup his cheek. He leaned into my palm and gave me a small, sincere smile. This was hurting my heart.

"We haven't spoken in a month."

"I know, I know. It's my fault, I-"

"Did you just not want to see me anymore?"

I instantly shook my head. "No, no, no. That's not it at all." I wiped a few tears away with my thumb.

"I thought I fucked up so badly," He started, taking a deep breath. "When you came onto me like that, I felt time stop. Literally nothing else mattered to me in that moment other than you. I didn't even fucking care if my heart stopped beating. If being with you was my last moment alive, I'd die a happy man." I sucked in my lower lip, my eyes burning more. "But it felt wrong. You were drunk, p-probably for the first time in your life. I didn't want to take advantage of that. You weren't thinking straight at all. I-I didn't want you to-to regret it the next morning."

"Buggy-"

"You have no idea- no fucking idea how badly I've wanted that. Since the very moment I've laid my eyes on you, I realized there was nothing more I could ever want. You're perfect. A literal angel." I wanted to tell him he was wrong but he continued to speak, making my heart both ache and jump. "My life was so dark before you. I was blinded by greed and-and hatred. I was a cruel man. But seeing you smile, I forget what for, but your smile erupted something in me. I didn't care anymore. I didn't care about anything else in life other than you. I did some fucked up shit and I feel like you have a right to know." He swallowed then turned his head, facing away from me.

"What do you mean?" Those words scared me.

"Look in the nightstand. There's a book, I think it's the second one. Open it and see for yourself." He sat up and pulled away from me, wiping his nose and eyes. "No more lies or secrets. I want to be completely open and honest with you about everything. If our friendship continues, then I want honesty. You deserve that."

"You're scaring me, Buggy," I murmured and leaned forward, reaching for the drawer. I yanked it open and sorted through the stack of novels. I grabbed the second one and set it in my lap. "Can I just say-"

"No, please look. I need your opinion on me after you see this."

I was horrified.

What was so revolting in this book that he felt the need to hide?

I looked at him, frowning, before dropping my head. I admired the cover of the novel before peeling it open. My eyes widened.

"Read it out loud," The man instructed as he toyed with his bottom lip. He stared at me, not even seeming to blink.

My thumb dragged over the paper to smooth out the crumpled words. “She has the kindest smile. Her generosity is beyond that of anyone I know. She makes me believe in the good of humanity again." I repeated as I read the sentences scattered on the small note of paper. I smiled to myself. "Did you write-"

"Read the next one."

"I've never wanted something so badly in my life. To say I yearned for her would be a complete understatement. I longed for her, I yearned, I desired- In simple terms, I wanted her. I mean, how could I not? She was an angel. She was a siren. I would purposely listen to her enchanting song, allowing my boat to crash, just if it meant I could be graced by her presence, by her beauty. I was obsessed with her. If she found out my thoughts, my desires, she would never let herself be seen with me. I wouldn't blame her, though. I was obsessive. It was unhealthy, I knew that. But I didn't care. I wouldn't say I loved her because I didn't know what that felt like. I've never experienced it. But perhaps I did love her. I didn't know, I couldn't tell. All I knew was that she was the only treasure I wanted. Not the One Piece, no. Not even that could match up to her alluring person. If I had to travel every sea in order to find her, battle every sea snake in order to touch her, I would. I would in a heartbeat." I felt my lower lip quiver as salty tears began to cloud my vision. I used my free hand to rub my eyes before I continued. "A-And she caused me to see the world in color. Everything was so bland and dry but the second I saw her, I could see the blue in the sky and the pink petals of cherry blossoms. I could see the light at the end of a tunnel. If I was drowning, I know she would be able to rescue me just from her words of encouragement."

"Do you get it now?" He asked, placing his hand on my knee.

"You like me?" I asked, hesitant.

"What? Really?" He said with a weak laugh. "Of course I do. But I've known you for so long, Y/N. Much longer than you knowing me. I've followed you before, s-stalked you."

I gasped. Oh. I didn't get that from the writings. "You did?"

"Yeah, I did. I've been scheming for months. Trying to figure out how to talk to you o-or get you to say hello to me. Then at the bar-"

"I said hello to you. Were you there because of me?"

"Yeah, it wasn't mere coincidence."

"Woah," I said in awe, my facial expression or tone of voice hiding how I was truly feeling. "That's- wow."

"If you want to leave, I understand. It's a lot, I know. But I promise I've never properly stalk- well, I-I don't know. I just saw you and I knew I needed to know you. I needed you in my life."

"When did you first see me?"

"A fish market. You were giving a kitten some of the scraps."

"I don't even remember that," I admitted with a light chuckle.

"I'm not a creeper pervert or anything, I swear. I've-"

"Buggy, stop panicking. I'm flattered, if anything. I don't hate you. I don't think differently of you either."

He leaned into me, his red nose touching the tip of my own. He wore a wide smile on his face. "Really?" I nodded my head and rested my hand atop of his.

"It's a lot to take in but I'm not creeped out. I just- I had no idea."

"There's a reason I still have a bounty,” He remarked.

I laughed softly. "Very true."

"Do you understand why I was so worried? I thought all of that progress was wasted. I did want to, I really did. God, I wanted to, but-" The man continued to ramble on before I pressed my palm to his red-painted mouth. He wiggled his eyebrows.

"I'm glad you didn't stay. Genuinely, I would have regretted it. Not because of you, but because I would want to remember a moment like that. I never want to drink again so I can be fully aware of everything we do together," I said as I removed my hand. "I didn't contact you because I was embarrassed with myself. I felt like an idiot. I thought I completely ruined everything. I also wanted to properly deal with my emotions. I wanted to figure out what I felt."

"And what do you feel?"

"The same as you do, though maybe not as extreme."

The pirate cracked a cheeky grin and nudged me.

"But I don't want to rush anything, please. If we do decide to do anything," I cleared my throat. "I want to take things slow. I moved too fast that night and look what happened."

"No, no, yeah. I feel the same way. No rush."

"Do we have a deal?" I extended my hand.

"A deal for what?"

"To do this but take things slow."

"To do what?"

"Buggy, you know what I mean."

"I want to hear you say it."

I huffed and pulled my hand back before he quickly grabbed it and gave it a firm shake. "We can go further with our relationship. How is that?" I smiled.

"Hmm, what do you mean? I'm a little slow, you'll need to spell it-" I kissed him for a split second then pulled back. The expression on his face was priceless. "That's pretty self-explanatory,” He hummed, grinning.

"Good."

"Can I do it again, though?" His hand reached to cup my chin.

"Once," I whispered.

Buggy closed the gap, tilting his head to be able to kiss me properly. It was short but sweet. When he pulled away, he fell against me, his forehead resting on my shoulder. My arms enwrapped his figure and I pulled him close. "Are you tired?" I asked, playing with his ponytail.

"Mhm," He responded, a soft yawn parting from his lips. "You're still staying the night, right?"

"Yeah, I am."

The blue-haired man pulled away from me and swept his legs over the side of the bed "I'll sleep on the floor, I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

I grabbed his arm. "Nonsense, it's okay. I get the left side, though."

Buggy grinned, nodding his head. "Yes, ma'am."

I peeled my shoes off, setting them next to his as he began to unfold the sheets. He pulled the blankets back and climbed underneath them. I crawled beside, pushing my legs under the thin blankets. Turning to face Buggy, I tucked my arm under the pillow.

"I'm sorry for being like this, by the way. For being drunk."

"It's okay, just try to stop. If it's okay."

"It is," He whispered while stretching his arm out, slyly letting it sling over my waist. I smirked.

"You were kind of funny, though."

"How so?"

"Slurring your words, repeating yourself, tripping everywhere."

"What can I say? They don't call me a clown for nothing."

"I think the nose and makeup gave you that reputation."

"Nose?" He cocked an eyebrow upward.

"D-Did I say nose? I meant, uh, your hair!"

"Mhm, sure." Buggy tugged me toward him, my face coming into contact with his chest. He let out a groan as he made himself comfortable. "I hope this isn't moving too fast. I'm cold."

"No, this is perfect," I replied with a sheepish smile.

My eyes closed and I shrugged my shoulders back while exhaling a sigh. I was cold but the warmth of his body soothed my goosebumps. I rested my forehead against his abdomen and felt myself beginning to drift off. His chin plopped upon my head and his hand combed through my hair.

"What do you want to do tomorrow?" He whispered, his voice raspy as exhaustion took over.

"We'll figure that out when tomorrow arrives. For now, I need sleep."

"Do you work tomorrow?"

I shook my head, whispering a simple 'no'.

"Sorry, I'll let you sleep."

I smirked to myself and tucked myself closer into him.

"Sweet dreams, Y/N," He mumbled as he kissed atop my head.

With those words and the sound of his heartbeat and breathing, I found myself falling asleep. I ignored the stench of alcohol coming from his person and focused on everything else I enjoyed about him.

In one last resort to get comfortable, I turned over, pressing my back against his front. My legs entangled with his and his arm slipped underneath my own. He held my hand.

The last thing I remember was him placing a kiss on the back of my head and then I fell unconscious.

#buggy x reader #buggy smut #buggy #x reader #op buggy #one piece live action #captain buggy #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #buggy the genius jester #opla buggy #one piece buggy #buggy opla

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kira-fluff · 2 months

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reaction to finding out you have a chronic disease | fem!reader x haikyuu!!

this idea popped into my head in the shower. shower thoughts are the best. as a chronically ill person such as myself (mentally and physically, LOL!) i felt maybe I was a little qualified to write this. these are all diseases i experience! i can def write some that i am not diagnosed with :) i'm a biology nerd, so i love learning new things, especially about diseases! some of these are more serious than others. i tried to keep the disease symptoms/descriptions general so it can appeal to more diagnoses (for example, nosebleeds are indicative of several different diseases) that way more people can feel represented by what i write!

‼️warnings: mentions of blood, nekoma team being dorks, seizures, WAY too many ellipses (sorry I just love them), pointless bantering (oikawa), dramatic af, osamu described as "caked-up" (sorry not sorry), railing on atsumu for shits and giggles, deep hatred of the word moist

want to see a different haikyuu character's reaction? request here! also, if you want to read a specific disease represented, i can see if i can put it in there too :)

✿ kuroo tetsuro "hey when do you want to- OH MY GOD ARE YOU OKAY?!" blood dripped from your nose onto the gymnasium floor. "oh. another nosebleed. my bad, I'll clean that up..." you said apathetically. "hey, this is sort of a big deal, ya know? shit... yaku, I need a towel or something!" he shouted. they really weren't anything serious. ever since you were little, you had frequent nosebleeds. your mom wrote it all off as the cold weather (even in summer), so it wasn't really that big of a deal to you either (until a few doctor visits later). still, the apathy you felt toward your predicament remained. yamamoto had already rushed over at his captain's call. "does she need an ice pack, too? fuck, I don't know what to do...." "aren't you supposed to tilt your head up?" one member asked. "no, no i think you're supposed to tilt your head down...." another muttered. "GUYS, GUYS I GOT IT. GOOGLE SAYS TO 'sit down and tilt your head forward, pinching the top part of your nose above the nostrils for like, 10 to 15 minutes.'" lev sat back proudly, phone in hand. "can't believe you were smart enough to look that up..." kenma whispered under his breath. "hey, hey, look at me. you still with us?" kuroo said, a hand on either side of your face. despite the towel against your nose, you couldn't help but laugh. "oh my god, guys! it's not like I'm dying! this happens all the time." "but that's not...normal. did you ever get it checked out?" kuroo stared at you inquisitively, his brow raised. his fellow teammates nodded. you sighed. "look, unless there's a lot of excessive gushing or anything like that, they said i should be okay. yes there's a whole disease behind it all with a long-ass name that no one can pronounce and yes there are sometimes other symptoms that could result in death, but I'm totally fine, okay? I'm perfectly healthy!" "you poor, fragile angel..." lev said, a hand on his chest, distraught. "that... does NOT make me feel more relieved. at all. in fact, I'm more worried. should we go to the hospital? that one looked a little... gush-y...." kuroo said, pacing back and forth before setting his eyes back on you. removing the towel from your nose, you shook your head. "no. look, bleeding nose already gone, see? I'm not going to the hospital. I'm completely fine. relax, kuroo." kuroo stared at you for another moment, taking in your expression, searching for any signs of discomfort. at last, he sighed. "ok. fine. I concede. but if you ever feel the littlest bit unwell, tell me or one of us, okay?" after your agreement, and several more minutes of doting from both your boyfriend and all the other team members, you at last parted ways. as you got out of the shower that night, your phone lit up with a notification. tetsu 💕 [11:23pm]: I'm serious about what I said back there. please talk to me when you aren't feeling good. you mean so much to me that I can't imagine what life would be like without you. sleep well, babe. love you.

✿ osamu miya "damn are you o-- OKAY, YEAH, NO. SHE'S NOT OKAY." it was your average day as a supportive, amazing, fantastic girlfriend watching your iconic, sexy, hot, caked-up boyfriend play volleyball with his piss-haired twin and the rest of the team of inarizaki. unfortunately for you (and the entire volleyball team), inarizaki had a recent issue with their air conditioning units. even more unfortunate was the fact that the fans in the gymnasium were practically there for decoration, that's how useless they were. despite it being late march (still quite cool outside), the players and spectators were drenched in sweat. still, you weren't about to let a little (lot) bit of sweat deter you from cheering for your mans! so, you remained in the stands, cheering as loudly as you could (except for the times when you couldn't because atsumu was once again on his I'm About To Serve Power Trip). it was finally nearing the end of the game, and thank GOD it was because you were starting to feel reaaalllly light-headed. at the final score of the match, you stood up, but oh, was that a mistake. suddenly, you legs started shaking. the lights suddenly seemed to dim down and black spots were popping up in your vision. maaaaybe you should sit back down. wait. where is "back down"? it suddenly occurred to you that at this point, you couldn't see anything. beginning to panic, you started reaching out to find something to hold onto, thankfully finding the stair railing of the bleachers in your grasp. slowly, you blindly fumbled your way down the steps of what you hoped were the bleachers steps. you heard someone shout something along the lines of, "you good?" you were far too panicked and far too focused to give a reply. don't fall down. don't fall down. don't faint. don't pass out. you chanted in your head like a mantra. you heard the squeak of shoes against the ground and voices talking back and forth around you when suddenly a steady hand grabbed ahold of you just above your elbow. guess that was all you needed before your consciousness flickered, then extinguished.

"....cold like ice...." "...pale as hell...." you could only hear snippets of sentences, and your eyelids felt heavy. "....have something....with sugar, preferably...." when you finally opened your eyes, you were no longer in the gym, but in inarizaki's nurse's office. "hey..." you turned, now noticing the other occupant of the otherwise empty room. "'samu... did I faint again?" his eyebrows rose. "again? like, you've done this before?" "yeah. happens a lot. 's fine though. was a little scary back there for a minute, though." "damn, I'll say. I've never seen someone so pale. and sweaty. and that's saying something, cuz post-practice 'tsumu is disgustingly moist." "'samu, I love you, but never say that fucking word again." "what, moist?" you cringed, grabbing at your ears, "ugh, yes! I'm already dying here and now you're nailing the final mark in the coffin." osamu gave his signature half-smile. "I thought you said you were fine?" you scoffed, "that was just to make you feel better. I'm gonna need lots of cuddles tonight to wave off my near-death experience." he let out a light-hearted laugh. "okay. plenty of that for you regardless of whether you're on death's door or not." he said, giving you a small peck. you pursed your lips. "I need you right now, though." his face split in a full grin as he slid next to you on the small bed. "anything for you darlin'."

✿ oikawa toru "please... please be okay..." you had been enjoying your regular weekday study session. it always went as follows: meet up after class, head off to aoba johsai's library, study (and perhaps get slightly off-topic over some vending machine snacks and drinks), and at last, go to volleyball practice (perks of being a manager!). "ok, ok, we should probably finally look at what we're supposed to know for our next english exam," oikawa said, still in between chuckles. "but toru... i can't go on without a drink..." you clutched your throat dramatically. "must... have.... beverage.... dying of.... thirst!" oikawa laughed again, "geez, fine!" he said, attempting to sound annoyed by your request (and failing miserably). "I'll go grab us something to drink. on me." he winked. "wow. what a gentleman. you really spare no expense, spoiling me with luxurious drinks from the beverage box of wonders! oh how lucky I am to have such a supportive boyfriend..." you leaned back on your chair, drying a fake tear of gratitude, while simultaneously stifling a giggle. "damn, ok. fork out the yen, then, babe." "nooooo~~~ I was kidding! I'm sorry you're the best ever in the whole wide world~~~ my little piglet oinkawa~" "ok now you're paying for my drink too." "I'm sorry!!!! I won't call you oinkawa ever again." "thank you-" "to your face." after at least 15 minutes of more bickering (and no studying) oikawa was off to the so-called beverage box of wonders, also known as a shitty-ass vending machine that was probably last refurbished in the '90s. oikawa was still laughing to himself as he rounded the corner to the library, drinks in his arms. "hey babe, are you finally studying?" he smirked, finally nearing your small alcoved study area.

- thud, thud. the long-forgotten drinks fell to the floor as oikawa rushed over to you. there you convulsed on the ground, your eyes white and pupil-less, and your mouth foaming, turning a slight twinge of pink. you let out small grunts, completely unresponsive. "oh my god, oh my god, hey, hey listen to me." oikawa was already in full-fledged panic mode, tapping your face with his hand. "oh my god, SOME PLEASE HELP HER!" the few left in the library looked over at oikawa, then at you, before beginning to run about. one was on their phone speaking to a 911 operator, another rushed out of the room. one kneeled alongside oikawa, checking helplessly for a pulse. "protect her head." a girl read out from her phone. oikawa immediately shed his jacket, placing it under your head which was hitting the ground rapidly to the incongruent rhythm of your convulsions. "check her bag, does she have any meds?" "SHE'S MY FUCKING GIRLFRIEND I THINK I'D KNOW IF SHE HAD MEDS!" oikawa shouted. he didn't mean to snap, but he felt so useless. were you hiding this from him? how did he not know you had seizures? were they always this bad? despite what he'd told the unnamed student, oikawa, jumped up, grabbing your bag and nearly ripping the zipper with the force he'd opened it with. no medication. "no meds." he said, quieter this time. a hand rested on his shoulder. "it's gonna be okay, man. look, she stopped." oikawa whipped his head over to you, chastising himself for removing his eyes from you for even a second. you were still breathing, but it was like you were in a deep slumber. by the time the EMTs arrived, however, you'd begun blinking your eyes lazily at your surroundings.

- "hey oikawa." you said, smiling. oikawa said nothing in return, his head in his hands. you sat there for a moment, taking in your surroundings. "wait a minute, where am i?" you felt a tickling inside your nose. at the touch of your hand, you realized you had a breathing tube hooked up you. another glance around the sterile hospital room showed your heart rate monitor and other cords wrapped up around the hospital bed. you laughed, "...and what's all this stuff on me?" "you had a seizure." oikawa said sharply, though not unkind. you stared at him once more in disbelief. "...really?" "yeah. I came back from getting our drinks when...when I found you lying on the ground, shaking. the doctor says you bit your tongue, which explains why the foam that was coming out of your mouth was pink. they want to do an MRI on you." "oh." you gazed down, then met his eyes again. "you... had to deal with that all by yourself?" "other people in the library helped me... though I don't think I was the nicest guy to be around. its sort of all of a blur." you smiled, "for me, too. I can barely remember what we were talking about before I woke up." oikawa's eyes widened, "really?" "yeah... but I think I'll be okay, as long as you're here." "this hasn't happened before, has it?" "no, not really. I mean, I've always gotten light-headed easily, which is sort of how I felt before I, ya know... went down... but never like that. I don't think. then again, if I wasn't here in a hospital bed, I think I would've just thought I fell asleep or something. it just feels like I took a long nap. still kind of tired, honestly." oikawa shook his head. "I'm never letting you out of my sight ever again." "oikawa, seriously. it's gonna be okay. I'm fine. nothing bad happened, right? I didn't die." "BUT YOU COULD'VE!" he shouted. "...you could've.." he said again in a whisper. suddenly, he got up. leaning over the hospital bed, he pressed his lips to your temple, leaving a soft kiss in its wake. "I just... I don't want to see you suffering. I don't want you to get hurt." "but you were there." "but what if I wasn't?" "but you were." you slid your hand over his own. "oikawa, it's gonna be okay, I promise. I'm a little scared, too, but... I know we'll figure something out, okay?" he let out a mix between a sigh and a laugh, "why does it feel like I was the one who had the seizure? some boyfriend I am, making you feel worse." "oikawa shush." you placed you index finger over his lips. "you're not allowed to talk about yourself in that way in my presence." he rolled his eyes, but his dimples popped out in a wary smile. "you're amazing, you know that?" you imitated deep-thought, your finger on your chin. "hmm... no, doesn't ring a bell." a full grin bloomed across his face now. "then I'll spend the rest of my life reminding you."

a/n: romanticize the source of your medical bills girlies 💕 it works wonders

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starrykaulitz · 8 months

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any era tom headcannons!

hi guys! so since i don't have enough time to write full segments of stuff, ill be posting either head cannons or my fav pictures from now on… so sorry for the hiatus i went on with no notice but enjoy these!!

SFW;

he loves it when you sit on his lap. everywhere you go, public eye or not, he opens his legs inviting you to sit on either his knee or on his thighs. depends if you can get home fast enough from wherever you are.

this man is obsessed with public affection. he seriously does not care about what others think when it comes to his relationship. you'll be walking in a crowd of people and his hand will be smack bang on your ass, gripping it, groping it, you get the point.

he sleeps on the left side, always. and he has these reading glasses that have broken MULTIPLE TIMES because everytime he finishes staring at his phone at 2 am, goes to switch of the bedside light, he forgets to take the glasses off and they end up on the floor. he says 'ill get them in the morning', ends up forgetting they are there and steps on them with his fat ahh feet.

his fav cuddle position is def when he can rest his head on your tits, big or small. he loves laying on your chest whilst wrapping his leg around your lower half.

he always needs to be touching something of yours. its almost a subconscious thing, but he has to have his hand or his leg near yours at all times, especially if your in a situation that could make him nervous.

if you knew him from a younger age, growing up together, he would have 100% picked on you more than anyone else around him. you were a girl, its 'funny', but now that hes older, that man will literally kiss the ground you walk on.

your in the car with him? hes driving? horrible idea. he will not only speed to see your scared reaction, but he was also drive with his knees. he does not stop at orange lights at night either, he is going STRAIGHT THROUGH IT, PUMPING THE GAS.

if you were watching a movie and he got real into it, he'd begin just...grabbing at your boobs. not in a sexual way, in a way of "they are there, might as well grip onto them."

NSFW ;

alright. morning sex. all the time. it'd be strange if you didnt have it. he is constantly up against your back, and he'd love having an s/o whos a bit exciting, so extra points to you if you purpusfully gave him one while he was asleep. but god, he would be sloppy in the morning and it would be amazing.

when he finishes, (he would want to do it inside you if you had been dating for years on end, no protection) he bites at your shoulder. doesnt matter what position, hes biting that shit hard as he finishes.

he LOVES licking. idk why, but he does. if your lying there under him, arms stretched to the side, he will take that chance to lick all the way from your belly button, to your neck, up until he reaches your mouth and then continues to shove said tongue down your throat.

he gets pretty aggressive with head i'd say. he loves you doing it, literally his favorite past time, but he would grip onto your scalp so hard and pound himself into you, (ofc, only if youre in the mood for that.)

mirrors? dont even mention them or else he'll have you infront of one and have you begging for more istg. he loves seeing both himself and your fucked out expression as he hits it from the back.

again, toms said this before, but i rlly dont think tom would like you doing the dirty talking, (ofc unless your out at a public dinner on the other side of the table, you send him a dirty msg or sum), but he prefers to hear you scream and ATTEMPT to talk then have you degrading him or sum.

#tom kaulitz #tokio hotel #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x you #tom kaulitz x oc #bill kaulitz #tokio hotel smut #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz x reader

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yuellii · 10 months

Text

catch me before daylight

feat. ningguang, scaramouche ( separate )

𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 they react to your words, “if i die tonight,” and how they respond to it

note. female reader, not proofread, nudity (ningguang)

NINGGUANG.

Her robe falls to the floor in a heap of mess that once was not there. Perhaps it was a few moons ago, such a splitting time when she was still organized and clean—a time she can’t remember well anymore.

In here, it’s a steaming warm bathroom. In here, there is a possibly twisted sense of tranquility that seeps through the cracked, marble tiles. In here, a certain scent floats around, so atmospheric it could choke her with a dream of death and delight both at the same time.

But, in here, there is you.

“Ningguang,” you addressed from the tub, brows quite visibly furrowing together at the sight of her lowering herself into the warm water across from you. “You shouldn’t bathe with a sickly person.”

She scoffed rather insultingly. “You’re too naive to think a little illness can affect me.” The look on her face was more than annoyed—perplexed at the littlest of things, actually. You could see the way she scrunched her nose merely as she removed her clip from her hair, not to mention the hand motions she makes of discomfort as she settles into the tub. And yet, you frowned all the same. She can’t hide it, truly, the tired look in her eyes, whose concern shines brighter than the sun. The little shifting glances she makes only screams how badly she misses you. “And besides,” she continued with a tremble upon her lip, “look at you. You’re so weak you cannot even clean yourself on your own.”

You could not help but laugh lightly at her comment. To anyone else, they might’ve taken it as an insult, but you’ve come to accept it. These arms of yours were now too frail even carry a tub of water.

“Your sickness is getting worse day by day,” Ningguang scolded, “and yet you were still ambitious enough to try and bathe here without my help?”

“But the duties of the Tianqian is to rule and control commerce, not to babysit some poor, poor person.”

“But the duties of Ningguang is to care for her lover.”

Your heart fluttered as you fell silent, but in a way that practically jabbed at your stomach and made you feel sick.

A deafening silence is what spread throughout the messy bathroom, lined with your tossed clothes, medicine bottles, robs, and the likes. There was something distasteful in the air, and you know it was all because of you. To be a setback did not feel pleasant, even as Ningguang scrubbed soap in your hair with the most gentlest of fingers, and even as she poured water from above your head.

She wasn’t that deceptive, honestly. You could see it, everyone could see it: The tire in her eyes, the overworked callouses in her hands. It was hard to look at your lover and see the dark circles under red hues that used to be so full of joy and sparks of mischief. She loved you, maybe too much, and it showed. You hated looking at her. She could never fathom the way her gaze made you feel, one that was so full of adoration for you, but also a sliver of pain given by the same person she loves. You receive her love, but is your love in return even worth it?

“Ningguang.”

“Mm.” She continued washing you, sitting behind you now as she scrubbed at your back. You could only thank the archons above that you didn’t have to see her face right now.

“If I die tonight…” You almost choked when you felt her hands come to an abrupt stop. “…will you finally get some rest?”

She stayed silent. But there, right on your back, you could feel as her gentle hands slowly hardened into fists. They were balled atop your skin, as if holding herself together, but by gods… she was shaking. It almost hurt to cry, especially when she can’t see you like this. But she couldn’t control it anymore when her trembling arms snaked around your waist, pulling you so close to her. And it was there that she burst, sobbing so painfully against the back of your shoulder.

Her breaths were ragged and shaky, you could barely make out a gravely stuttered line of “Don’t say something like that,” but you still remained silent.

You were both so tired. She was tired of taking care of you, and you were tired just seeing her destroy herself. And yet, even amidst this spiral of madness brewing in her own chambers, she still could not even live with the idea of you dying so soon—truly, who could? But this illness was not controllable anymore; Her money could not buy you health anymore.

She continued to cry against your shoulder even as the warmth started to rise from the water, leaving you feeling emptier than if you were already dead.

And, leaving her feeling lonelier than even before she met you.

SCARAMOUCHE.

“—And that was when I took the gnosis, and ran away with it.”

“Haha, nice fantasy,” you passively grinned, tipping down the front of his hat just to get him annoyed (which was, as always, a success). “But everyone knows that The Fair Lady was the one who obtained the electro gnosis.”

He grumbled. “No, she died.”

“No, she died after securing it,” you argued back. What was common knowledge to you—and, well, mostly everyone—seemed like a completely different story in his eyes, as if he saw the world with a different set of lenses the past century. He told of many tales of the Fatui with a good handful of them being utterly twisted or just plainly incorrect. And, he told some tales that were shocking accurate, definitely far too in detail for a mere ‘wanderer’ to know about the organization.

You asked him, only once. This guy was so cryptic that he never gave an answer you could quite understand.

“Because I’m Scaramouche,” was his answer many weeks ago. “I was the sixth Harbinger, I was there to witness it myself.”

“Like Hell I’d believe it,” you groaned. “The sixth seat has been empty for years.”

“That’s because I’m dead.” And there it was, another cryptic, undefined answer that he somehow just expected you to understand. “Breathing, but while not a soul in the world remembers you, your name, or the things you did—that’s not exactly, is it? In my opinion, I died!” And then he laughs. It’s wholehearted, it’s coming from his chest—a laugher that seems so innocent like he’s the happiest man in the world.

You sighed. “You need to stop lying like this. If you’re dead, then how am I speaking to you now?”

He gasped in an air of carefree excitement. “Oh, oh, let me tell you the whole thing.” And then he talks of Sumeru, the nation you’re sitting in now, and the overthrow of the academic scholars. Which was another weird factor, because you were physically present for this timeline of events. And yet, you don’t remember of a lot of this. A robot, a tree, a fight.

And above it all, a worldwide memory erasure of the man that stood before you now, the man with a big hat, yet no name.

Several days pass, perhaps it’s been months now since you’ve started talking to him. The House of Hearth has you stationed here in Port Ormos, and he somehow knew of its ties to Arlecchino, the mother of your orphanage. It saves you the explanation, you suppose, but his knowledge of the entirety of Fatui operations has you questioning if he really was the sixth, after all. “What’s wrong with you today?” he raises an eyebrow at you, watching as you sit on the grass against a tree, staring into the water

You sadly smile. “The Knave ordered our group to storm the Corps of Thirty tomorrow morning.”

He scoffed so loudly he almost spit on the ground. “That’s probably the dumbest order that crazy woman has ever given,” he complains as if he knew Arlecchino personally. “Those are trained military men on their own grounds, she’s going to get you all captured or killed.”

“Mhmm,” you only nodded, albeit quieter than the crickets in this moonless night. “And I’ll be tagging along.”

“Are you insane?!” he suddenly shouts, and you had to admit this was the first time you have ever seen his face look so furiously in shock. “You’re going to die there, can’t you run that through your thick skull?! You don’t have to follow the orders of that woman, just because she’s insane doesn’t mean you have to do it!”

“Order’s are orders,” you laughed. But it was so down, empty, and pathetic of a laugh that it made him only more crazed over your situation. “It’s whatever,” you quickly brushed off, “You got another story for me tonight, hat boy?”

“I do, actually,” he boomed. His voice was still quite loud… And maybe, just maybe, you could tell a little his exasperation came from genuine concern. “Once upon a time, there was a really stupid girl who made really stupid decisions, such as blindly following the orders of her ‘Mother’ until it got herself killed.”

You scoffed. “Us fatuus are always prepared for death,” you said. Which was true, sure, but… But I don’t want to die. “Hey…”

He looked back to you. Perhaps it was your delusional mindset obscuring your vision right now, but you could’ve sworn—the slightest bit of hope that you changed your mind just flashed against the light of his eyes.

“If I die tonight…”

“Then we’d both be ‘dead,’ wouldn’t we?”

You look at him in a horrified kind of surprise. And he sits there, suddenly smiling at you with the most genuine grin of excitement you’ve seen on him thus far. His demeanor completely switched, like he grasped the opportunity to convince you the moment it was presented to him. “Think about it,” he goes, “you can leave the Fatui just like I did once—and look, I’m fine!—and no know will know! We’ll be like the dead walking among the living, the murderous fatuus now wanderers of Teyvat… Just you and I, isn’t that much more of an interesting way to live?”

To die and be forgotten… To betray the organization that raised you… It never sounded so amazing until now.

“Come on,” he encourages as he extends his hand out to you. “Leave ‘living’ in the past, and be reborn. You can be so much more free.”

Freedom, that was the gift of the dead.

#scaramouche x reader #ningguang x reader #wanderer x reader #scara x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x reader

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miracleonice87 · 10 months

Text

from uncle trav to killa dad

part of the kissing kelce universe

a/n: apparently she writes NFL fic now. no one is shocked. the first installment in the kissing kelce miniseries / universe! sharing the first 3,400ish words of the 8,100ish I already have written... "alright nah" 😈 hope y'all enjoy! (also, will make a masterlist for this universe specifically -- until then just use the "kissing kelce" tag)

warnings: swearing, sickness / vomiting, alcohol, mentions of menstrual cycles / unprotected sex / pregnancy / babies, allusions to not keeping a pregnancy / not being ready to have kids, basically don't read if pregnancy / having kids is triggering for you

word count: ~3,400+

___

February 2023

It was only the end of its second month, but 2023 was already one of the best years of Travis’s life.

First off, this was the first calendar year he had ever begun as your husband, not your boyfriend or your fiancé, which still delighted him to no end, hence why he was constantly referring to you as “Mrs. Kelce,” both publicly and, his favorite, privately. Two weeks ago, he’d won his second Super Bowl after competing against his big brother and best friend, Jason – a literal childhood dream come true. And in one week’s time, he’d be hosting Saturday Night Live. Saturday. Night. Live. As in, “Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night.” As in 30 Rockefeller Plaza. As in who in the fuck was about to let him do that?!

Travis Kelce had the world on a string, you by his side, and he could not ask for more.

Except for you to shake the illness that had been plaguing you for the last several days.

You’d always been an expert napper, but usually for no more than an hour or so; this week you’d been going to bed early, sleeping late, and napping for two or three hours at a time, and Travis was highly concerned. He didn’t like seeing you stub your toe, let alone seeing you struggle with such low energy. He had a growing feeling this was more than just you catching up on your rest after a jam-packed week of team festivities and visitors.

This especially worried him knowing that the two of you needed to leave for New York City first thing tomorrow morning. For a normal event appearance, he’d be moving flights or changing dates, making any adjustments necessary to tend to you and make you as comfortable as possible, but he didn’t exactly have that flexibility with SNL, and he was beginning to panic a bit.

After a Zoom call with his agents and the SNL producers walking Travis through the schedule for his upcoming rehearsal week, he flipped his laptop shut and immediately hustled up the steps to the primary bedroom, where he assumed you must still be sleeping, as he hadn’t heard any movement upstairs during his call – not even that of the dogs, who usually found their way downstairs to him when they heard his voice as he was taking calls.

Your husband couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something was off.

Travis made quick work of striding down the long hallway and sneaking into your bedroom, trying not to make the hardwood floor creak beneath his large frame as he sidled up to your side of the bed. Sure enough, he found both Rambo and Chauncey snuggled at your feet, popping their heads up when he entered the room, clearly on guard and ready to defend their sleeping mama should the need arise. He ruffled their fur upon his approach and made a mental note to reward them with treats for that later, then focused his attention back on you.

Usually, you rested serenely on your back or side, with a single pillow beneath your head; today, you obviously couldn’t get comfortable, because you were curled into the fetal position with an arm flung between two pillows messily folded under your head, another pillow shoved between your chest and your knees. Even in your sleep, your brows were drawn together in discomfort. He hated to wake you, but his intuition was nagging at him to ensure that you were okay. As he slowly lowered himself to the edge of the bed and traced your bottom lip tenderly with his thumb, you stirred, blinking bleary eyes.

“Hey, sweetness,” Travis whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “How’s my girl doin’?”

With his lips still resting against your skin, his hand cradling the back of your head, you groaned. You weren’t one to complain, but whatever this sickness was that you’d been dealing with was kicking your ass, and he knew it.

“Mm, I’ve been better,” you admitted, grasping his forearm with both hands to keep him close, ever comforted by his presence and touch. “It is flu season — must just be some bug going around.”

Travis hummed contemplatively, then broke away to peer down at you carefully.

“Maybe, but if you’re not feeling better by tomorrow, we’re gettin’ you to a doctor, even if it’s in New York,” he announced, gently palming your stomach which had been uncharacteristically sour all day. The warmth of his touch soothed your whole abdomen like a heating pad. “Capisce?”

“Yes, captain,” you muttered, hiding your face in his sizable bicep as he snickered. “I’m due for my period soon so that’s probably not helping either,” you added, a throwaway comment on any other day…

But not today.

Though you couldn’t see it, Travis’s eyes narrowed at that remark, flickering around the room wildly as his mind began to race.

Nah, he mused silently. Couldn’t be.

But it seemed you arrived at the same possibility on your own, because seconds later, you gasped, exclaimed “oh, my fucking god!” and sat up straight, leaning your arms against his thigh for strength as the room seemed to spin around you, the dogs hopping off the bed, annoyed at the interruption of their own naps.

“Travis, what’s today’s date?”

He bit the inside of his cheek. “It’s the 28th, baby,” he said evenly.

And with that, you flung the covers off and ran for the bathroom once again, dropping to your knees on the marble and leaning over the toilet just in time.

As Travis followed closely after you, he knew. He couldn’t believe that, in all of the Super Bowl hype and hysteria, he had missed it up until now. It was so obvious. Your monthly visitor always arrived on the 20th of the month – when you’d asked once how he remembered to bring home Diet Cokes and chocolate-covered pretzels, items you purposely didn’t keep in the house and only indulged in when you were PMSing, on the correct day, month in and month out, Travis often teased that you were so regular, he could set his watch to you.

He hadn’t purchased those items this month, though. Hadn’t even thought of it due to all of the post-win, postseason pandemonium.

And apparently, neither had you.

He hastily did the math. Today was February 28th, which meant that you were now eight days late. His pulse quickened at the realization, adrenaline coursing through his veins. The Chiefs had won the Super Bowl on February 12th, and unsurprisingly, the two of you had taken every single available opportunity since then to celebrate his big win behind closed doors – even if they were occasionally car or coat closet doors. And though the chances of getting you pregnant during that window were not exceedingly high, it was certainly far from impossible – plus, he thought immediately of the many times he had teased his brother Jason about his “super sperm,” having gotten his wife Kylie pregnant every other year since they’d been married. And it was a well-known fact that the two brothers shared many genetic characteristics, including their size and their athleticism.

Maybe this particular trait was no different.

Though you were busy actively being sick, you were doing the same calculations in your head.

Shit. Shit shit shit. You were always so careful, so meticulous, so diligent about timing your intimacy with Travis, taking extra precautions during those prime times and consistently warning him verbally when you were ovulating, as you never wanted him to feel like you were trying to “trap” him, even though you’d now been married for nearly a year. He gently poked fun at you and playfully rolled his eyes in those instances, assuring you that he, first of all, would never question your intentions regarding your relationship and, second, would be absolutely thrilled if and when that time came for the two of you.

But in other conversations, outside the bedroom and the heat of the moment, the two of you had mutually agreed that since you yourself weren’t 100% ready to start a family just yet, you would wait. You respected Travis endlessly for that, because anyone who knew him knew how desperately he longed to become a father. But if you didn’t want that right now, that was the end of the discussion – Travis was adamant that nothing was happening in that department until you made the call.

But these past couple of weeks… there had been so much emotion, so much energy, and so much alcohol involved that admittedly, neither of the two of you had given timing or protection a second thought. All that each of you wanted was the other, and nothing – not the calendar nor visiting parents nor the prospect of arriving late to the celebratory parade nor being in Travis’s Range Rover when the desire arose – was going to keep you apart physically. You’d thrown caution to the wind as you enjoyed being in your little fantasyland bubble together, and now, reality was sinking in.

As you finally finished coughing and sputtering, Travis broke from holding your hair into a makeshift ponytail in order to pour a small cup of mouthwash and offer it to you. You graciously accepted and swished it around generously before flushing it away. As you leaned back from the bowl, he gathered you into his arms with a quiet but firm “come ‘ere.” You both sat on the tile, backs against the glass wall of the shower beside you, and he rested his cheek atop your head, looping his long arms around your waist.

“Better?” Travis inquired simply.

You groaned, eyes falling closed as the now-familiar weariness enveloped you again.

“Yeah…” he answered himself with a sigh, sensing your utter exhaustion.

The two of you sat in wordless contemplation for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, you broke the deafening silence.

“Trav?” you croaked.

“Yeah?”

“I think I need to take a pregnancy test…”

He tipped his head backward against the glass, guilt wracking his every cell.

“I think so, too,” he echoed.

After a long debate on the bathroom floor about how to go about obtaining the home tests – with Travis arguing “you wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for me, so it should really be on me” against your “I’m way less likely to be recognized in the aisle of the drugstore” – you finally reached a compromise, which was to DoorDash a wide variety of tests straight to your door, avoiding the need for either of you to be seen out in public. Kansas City was a larger city with a small town feel, and most of the time, you loved that about your adopted hometown, but today, the prospect of being recognized sent your anxiety into overdrive. Photos of either of you purchasing pregnancy tests being splashed all over social media two weeks after the Super Bowl was truly the last thing you both needed, especially if it turned out to be all for nothing, a false alarm.

So, instead, you had waited the fifteen long minutes until the bag full of tests arrived at your doorstep, peering through the blinds until the driver was completely out of sight before opening the door and retrieving the delivery. You grabbed a Solo cup from the pantry and quickly climbed the steps back up to your bedroom, where you found Travis sitting in a lounge chair, hands folded together, elbows on knees, chin to chest – obviously deep in thought. He didn’t seem to hear you coming until you purposely rustled the plastic bag. As you held it up weakly, his eyes met yours, and he offered a soft smile which seemed forced.

Travis Kelce forcing a smile. A rarity.

“Secured the bag,” you said quietly, attempting to lighten the mood. “Literally.”

He nodded and slowly stood as you extended a hand, which he grasped in his as you headed into the bathroom together. When you reached the counter, you climbed atop it and shook out the contents of the bag, revealing half a dozen boxes of all shapes, sizes, types, and colors; contained in them were sixteen tests in total. You gazed down at them with pursed lips for a few quiet moments, then Travis cleared his throat, causing you to look up at him.

“Honey, before we do this, I just need to…” he swallowed thickly as his hands found the tops of your thighs, and you could tell that whatever he was about to say was weighing painfully heavy on him. You weren’t used to seeing him so serious, and you reached out a hand to rub his shoulder in support. “Listen… you know I’ve always been excited about the prospect of… well, not just having a baby, but having a baby with you, but… it’s really important to me that you know that we do not have to do this. Not now, not ever. Not if you don’t want to.”

The sincerity in his icy blue eyes was enough to make your heart skip a beat, and you hummed appreciatively, cupping his stubbly cheek in your hand.

“Thank you,” you whispered as he turned your wrist to press a featherlight kiss to the inside of it. “And I can’t tell you how much I love you for that. But… one thing at a time, okay? Let me go take care of this, and we’ll go from there.”

Travis nodded, concern etched on his brow. It wasn’t an expression he commonly wore, and it certainly didn’t suit him.

“Yeah… yeah, alright,” he said, sniffing. “You, um, you want me to stay in here with you, or…”

You shook your head, a small smile at play on your lips.

“No, I’ve been peeing on my own since I was about two, so I’ll do that part myself and report back, captain,” you teased, and Travis offered a shy smirk. You rested your forehead against his. “Okay?”

He nodded, head still pressed to yours.

“Okay,” he said, caressing your jaw before standing up straight to allow you to shimmy down from the counter. He took a few steps toward the door leading into the bedroom, then turned back.

“Hey, one more thing?” he said solemnly. You stared at him expectantly. “No matter what the test says… doesn’t change how bad I fuckin’ love you.”

You stood floored, forcing back tears. “I fuckin’ love you so bad,” you softly concurred.

Then, your normal playful Travis was back at least for a moment as he winked at you, clucked his tongue, and pulled the door closed as he encouraged, “Do your thing, girl.”

You rolled your eyes, then “did your thing” as instructed. You returned to the counter with the plastic cup sufficiently full and opened different tests from four of the boxes that looked the most promising, meticulously following the instructions for each. You turned them all so that the windows were face-down on the counter, washed your hands, then took a deep, shaky breath before opening the door with trembling fingers to find a pacing Travis burning a hole through your bedroom floor. You said his name softly, then tilted your head in the direction of the tests, inviting him back into the bathroom with you while you waited. He met you at the edge of the tub, where he wordlessly pulled you into himself and held you there. You closed your eyes and breathed him in, more grateful than ever that you’d chosen this man as your life partner, and that he had chosen you.

“How long we lookin’ at, sweetness?” Travis asked, resting his chin atop your head, gently swaying the two of you back and forth.

“Longest one takes three minutes,” you answered. “Figured we’d just wait until then and check them all at once.”

You felt him nod and check his Apple watch. He grew quiet again for a few moments, then he heaved a sigh.

“I’m sorry for putting you – us – in this position, baby,” he apologized, immediately breaking your heart. “I should’ve been more responsible and mindful in the moment. I just got caught up in you and I… I just, I’m sorry.”

You stood up straight, holding him at arm’s length, your brow creased ruefully as you realized how badly he was beating himself up over this.

“Trav, honey, don’t,” you pleaded. “You did nothing wrong,” you assured, reaching your hand up to rest against his neck. “We both got us into this situation, and to be honest, I wouldn’t change how we got here. We could have been more careful, yeah, but… all I was focused on was being as close to you as possible. I mean, these past couple of weeks with you have been some of the best of my life. I feel closer to you than ever.”

He studied you diligently, rubbing his hands up and down your sides.

“Yeah?”

You nodded, sliding your hand to the nape of his neck and bringing his lips to your level to kiss him softly.

“Yeah,” you whispered in reply.

He drew in a deep breath and squeezed your waist.

“‘Bout ready to check?” he asked timidly.

You nodded, arms falling back to your sides.

“Do it together?” you requested hopefully.

He nodded, too.

“Just like we do everything else,” he replied with conviction, taking your hand in his and pressing a firm kiss to your knuckles. “Let’s go.”

Hand in hand, you approached the counter, four eyes boring into the upside-down test sticks.

“You take two, I take two?” he suggested. You nodded, biting your lip and grasping the two sticks closest to you as he did the same.

“Ready? One…”

“Two…”

“Three…”

Both of you flipped the cheap plastic tests at once, gaping silently down at the counter.

For the past hour since you’d realized you’d missed a period, anxiety, nerves, and even dread had been coursing through your body at the speed of light.

But as soon as you saw those test results, inexplicably, the fear, the worry, the anxiety, the anticipation… it all melted away. The little blue plus sign and the pink double lines and the blinking “YES +” and the word “Pregnant” all laid out in front of you unmistakably brought an unexpected swell of peace and joy to your soul.

Travis’s hand flew to his mouth as he processed the results himself, and his fingers didn’t leave his lips as his eyes stayed fixed on you in quiet anticipation, refusing to react in the way that came naturally to him until he allowed you to react in your own authentic way.

So, when you looked up at him with your chin quivering, eyes rimmed red, tears threatening to spill over at any moment, his heart flipped inside his chest, then sank into his stomach…

But then you smiled.

“Looks like we’re having a Super Bowl baby,” you told him decidedly, starting to giggle.

His brows shot to the top of his forehead, his hand slowly falling away from his mouth.

“Really? You want to?” he asked softly, and you could tell by his tone that he was still focusing all his energy on suppressing his pure, unadulterated excitement. You nodded. “You’re sure this is what you want?” he confirmed, cocking his head as he surveyed you closely. You nodded again and stepped closer so that your feet were planted between his, leaning your body into him.

“I’m sure, Trav,” you promised as he tenderly combed some of your hair behind your ear. “I honestly wasn’t sure until we flipped the tests over, but… I’m sure. I’m ready for this with you, Travis. It feels right. Let’s have a baby.”

At that, he allowed the floodgates to open. His broad shoulders began to wrack with quiet sobs as his arms folded you against his chest. You cried along with him, sharing in his relief, his elation, his bliss.

“I love you so much,” he choked out between shuddering breaths. “Fuck, I love you so much. You’re everything to me. You always have been, but this… this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Thank you.”

You smiled into his pecs, sniffling. “I love you, too,” you replied, pulling away just far enough so that you could meet his eyes. He wiped away your tears with the pads of his thumbs as you continued. “Thank you for the way you handled this. There’s nobody I’d rather do this with than you.”

Travis beamed and leaned in for a kiss, certain that he’d never received a more meaningful compliment, and certain that he had never been more in love with you.

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