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mrsmarinara · 24 days

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So excited for the summer series! The prompts you chose were perfect! It was impossible to just pick one! May I please request 5 with Jack?

Hazy Clarity || Jack Hughes x reader

Prompt: 5. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

WC: 2.1k

A/N: I really am trying to get through these requests. Promise. Anyways I hope you like this.

Warnings: drug use (for medical reasons)

Summary: You thought you knew what you were getting into when you volunteered to take care of Jack after his surgery.

When you volunteered to be with and take care of Jack after his surgery you thought you knew what you were getting yourself into. Dating Jack for a year and knowing him for a year beforehand meant that you had seen him injured before and that usually, you would skip going to your apartment in favor of spending your time in his to make sure he was okay. Perhaps being there after Jack had his surgery was more so to calm your anxious mind but even though he wasn’t completely awake and coherent, he still seemed to appreciate the company.

Antsy. That was the best way to describe Jack. Since you met him it seemed like he always had to be doing something, even if it was just sitting down, if he wasn’t talking he would bounce his leg or constantly tap his fingers. It was like watching a child try and contain a sugar rush. So it was a little off-putting to watch as Jack sat on your couch, still as could be. He had several pillows cushioning his arm as he dozed quietly.

Quietly, so you wouldn’t wake him up, you grabbed the thickest throw blanket you had and covered Jack with it. He barely stirred as you tucked the blanket loosely around him. You stifled a giggle as you watched him twitch his nose at your actions before going still again.

When it was clear that he wasn’t waking up anytime soon you checked your phone only to see several dozen messages from his teammates, friends, and family. They ranged from asking how Jack was feeling and if he was doing better to asking how you were managing. You replied to all of them, letting everyone know that Jack is doing fine and recovering well. When you got to Jack’s family you gave a little more detail, telling Ellen that there was no need to worry and that he’s mostly been asleep because of the pain medication. Luke had asked if he should come to visit after the season ends to help with everything but you reassured him that he would see Jack soon and that you had everything under control. You wished him luck on the few remaining games the Devils still had to play and made sure to let him know that you and Jack would be watching them.

Once you managed to respond to every text you plugged your phone into the charger in the living room and made your way into the kitchen to make something for dinner.

When he was awake, Jack proved to be rather ravenous. It didn’t surprise you at all, even when he was healthy and uninjured he could still eat you out of house and home. You didn’t want to test the limits of his medication and end up having him throw up the food you made later. So you finally landed on making the salmon you had just recently bought and tomato cucumber avocado salad.

Your apartment wasn’t all that big. If you poked your head out of the kitchen you could see directly into the living room. So halfway through cooking you heard it when Jack woke up. You didn’t immediately rush to him, choosing rather to stay in the kitchen and finish the meal you were making.

You were filled with anxiety since the moment he got injured. I’m fact, you felt rather positive that if you went back to the hospital waiting room, where you sat as he had surgery, you would see a hole in the floor that you caused from the nonstop pacing you did as you waited to hear from the surgeon. Even when Jack was finally allowed to come home you couldn’t stop your mind from racing. Was your apartment clean enough? Did you have enough space for him to get better? What if he tried to do something that only made his injury worse?

You weren’t a nurse or a doctor. You had no background in medicine so the task of taking care of your healing boyfriend was daunting, to say the least. What you did have, though, was two years of knowing Jack. You could read his mood and body language better than anybody else. You knew when he was hurt, stressed, or upset and you knew exactly what to do to help. At least most of the time.

So when you heard some light shuffling from the living room and a quiet cough you knew he was awake. When you heard the television being turned on and the soft noise from it you were only proven right.

It doesn’t take you long to finish cooking and once you’re done you make two plates and head back out to the living room. You smile at the sight that greets you. Jack added another pillow to prop up his arm and found another throw blanket the wrap around himself. He blinks a bit sluggishly from underneath the blankets but the soft smile that adorns his face when he sees you makes it feel like butterflies are fluttering around in your stomach.

You smile back at him and set the plate of food on the coffee table. When you sit down you immediately feel Jack's cheeks and forehead for any warmth. The doctors told you to keep an eye out for any signs of a fever in the first few days after his surgery. His cheeks were warm but nothing that should have you worrying. It was only the warmth of sleep that still clung to him and made his cheeks rosy red.

Before you could pull your hand away Jack nuzzled into your touch. His eyes slipped close again and a sigh left his mouth. You ignored the way your heart beat faster and pulled your hand back gently.

“Hey, pretty boy, how’re feeling?” You asked softly.

Jack quietly groaned before forcing his eyes back open. His eyes were still red and glossy from sleep and when he spoke his voice was husky and his talking slow. “Still in a lot of pain.”

You glanced at the clock you had hanging on your wall to see how much time had passed since the last time you gave him any pain medication.

“You can have more medicine if you eat,” you gestured to the plate you had brought out. Jack followed to where your fingers were pointing. “It’s not good to take medication on an empty stomach.”

Jack hummed in acknowledgment before trying to sit up to eat. You watched him as he winced in pain but he didn’t say anything so you decided it was best for you to not bring anything up.

Halfway through eating and watching a rerun of The Office that was playing Jack sighed and put his fork down.

“I love your cooking,” he said almost wistfully. You glanced down at his plate and saw that only half of it was eaten, which was better than yesterday when he refused to eat anything.

“I would say thank you but I know that you routinely eat cold leftover pizza,” you huffed out a small laugh. That didn’t mean that Jack didn’t know how to cook. He could make something to sustain somebody but you couldn’t count on both of your hands the amount of times you had gone over to his apartment and saw a fridge with no food and just Gatorade and beer.

“I’m pretty confident you're the best cook I know.” He said as he burrowed himself back into the couch and under the blankets.

When he winced again you didn’t hesitate to reach over to the end table and grab the bottle of medication that he was prescribed. When you gave him the pills he immediately tipped his head back and swallowed them without water.

“I’m probably biased, though,” Jack said once he could.

You raised your eyebrow in curiosity. You finished chewing the food in your mouth before asking, “Biased how?”

“I love everything you do.”

Warmth floods your cheeks at his declaration. You hoped Jack wouldn’t notice it or that the medication would make him forget about it tomorrow. It’s not that you were embarrassed to let him see the effect he had on you, you just knew that if he was more coherent and present he’d probably tease you and perhaps it was self-absorbed or vain but all you wanted was to bask in his affections for you right now.

“Oh?” It was all you could think to say. Jack wasn’t the most affectionate when it came to words. It was obvious that his love language was physical touch so it’s not as if you had much experience in dealing with him saying sweet things randomly.

Jack hummed and nodded his head slowly. The pills you had given him were starting to kick in, you could tell as his eyelids grew heavier with every blink and the way his head slightly bobbed around as if he was trying to keep himself awake.

“Yeah,” his voice was low and slightly stirred but he kept his blue eyes trained on you. “I love everything about you.”

A bashful smile bloomed on your face and you didn’t try to hide it from your boyfriend. You placed your plate back on the table and kissed his cheek, “I love you too, Jack.”

When you pulled away and looked at Jack you were surprised to see a frown on his lips. He didn’t look upset or angry at what you said. Instead, he looked like he was thinking hard about something.

You didn’t lean back in for a kiss but instead, you lifted your hand to his face and rubbed your thumb over the wrinkles on his forehead. “Tell me what you’re thinking about otherwise you’ll end up with wrinkles from all that frowning.”

“You don’t get it, baby,” he spoke so softly you had to strain to hear him. “I love you. I love everything about you and I know you love me but it’s not even a comparison because I know I love you more than you love me.”

“That’s not true,” his words had left you feeling breathless but despite his sweet words, you needed him to know how much you loved him. “I can’t even put into words how much you mean to me.”

Jack’s eyes slid close but his soft and sleepy smile stayed. “You don’t get it, you’re like…” he paused for a long moment to find the right words. “You’re like the sun and I’m like a plant. I’m always seeking you out and I wouldn’t be able to survive if you were gone.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. A part of you wished that you had gotten it on camera because even though Jack was never one to shy away from talking about anything, he had never said anything remotely close to what he just told you.

However, it didn’t seem like he was looking for a response because less than a few seconds after his head dropped onto one of the many pillows behind him.

You say still on the couch for a moment waiting for your racing heart to go back to its regular rhythm. Once you felt stable again, you grabbed the plates as quietly as you could to not wake your boyfriend. When you stood from the couch to bring the dishes to the kitchen you were startled by the light grip on your arm. You looked down to see Jack had reached out to stop you from leaving.

“You know, I meant what I said right?” He asked, his eyes were still closed and his grip on you was becoming more and more loose by the second.

You grabbed his hand and set it down on his chest. “I know, Jacky.”

When he spoke again his words were slow and slurred, “Good, because you're the best thing to ever happen to me.”

The last few words were almost inaudible and before you could reply Jack was asleep. You smiled down at your sleeping boyfriend with a fond smile.

You brushed a piece of hair that was in his face away and leaned down to kiss his forehead softly.

“Trust me, I feel the same way.”

You know he couldn’t hear you but it felt important to you to say it out loud. When you finally left the living room and placed the dirty dishes into the dishwasher you couldn’t help but think that volunteering to take care of Jack after his surgery was a better decision than you originally had thought.

#Jack Hughes #Jack Hughes fics #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes x reader #nhl imagines #my writing #jack hughes imagine #2024 nhl offsesl prompts

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thebearer · 5 months

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ok but on a very real and very serious note...

carmen's first valentine's day with you.

i'm going to share some thoughts, feel free to add:

carmen has always hated valentine's day since he was in elementary school. he hated the everyone make a valentine thing because people would go out of their way to be an asshole and not give him one.

he bought one of those flower-grams in middle school to give to the girl he had a crush on, and she didn't even acknowledge it and he was so embarrassed he never did it again.

carmen hates valentine's day. has always worked on every valentine's day because he would rather and he's never had a serious relationship.

until this year with you.

it's new-ish. one of the bigger milestones. and he's torn. does he do something? does he not?

"are you out of your mind? yes, carmen, you do something on valentine's day." sugar scoffs like it's obvious.

"yeah... you should definitely do something." sydney adds.

but what? what does one do? carmen's not sure.

"just take her somewhere nice. get her some flowers, a little somethin'- not too much, though, alright? you gotta be able to top it, so don't hit your peak. just somethin' small." richie tells him.

so carmen makes some calls, gets reservations, asks you out- you agree, of course, and for once, carmen berzatto has valentine's day plans.

he buys you a tiffany necklace, which makes both sugar and richie a little confused.

"i said small, cousin."

"no, it is. it is. it's just, it's just like a normal one. no diamonds." carmen is now very nervous because, fuck, he thought it was a good gift!!! "the sales lady said it would be perfect. that-that she'd like it."

"she's not wrong." sugar shrugs. "she will like it, it's just... y'know."

"it's a lot? fuck, it's a lot."

"she'll like it, carmen." sugar tries to stop his spiral. "promise, she'll like it."

and you do. you love it, squeal and gasp over it, give carmen the biggest hug and kiss in the restaurant. he's blushing under the low light in the booth.

"i feel... i got you something, but-but it's not like this..." you're a little embarrassed and suddenly carmen's heart is racing because he didn't even think about you getting him something??? now he looks like a jagoff trying to show off.

"you didn't- you really didn't have to get me anything."

"no, but i wanted to." you smile, reaching for your own little bag. "it's just... it's not a lot. not like this."

and to carmen, it's better. a little 'emergency kit', you'd called it. first aid, deodorant, note pads, a little pocket agenda, sharpies- so many sharpies. carmen had been complaining about always forgetting things in the office, so consumed with the kitchen, and you'd listened. you'd heard him, and remembered it, and put this together for him. in a cutesy little tackle box, decorated with fruit and vegetable stickers he found adorable.

"wow," carmen is swallowing back tears. "this is..."

"i'm sorry." you cringe. "i didn't- i should've got you a real gift-"

"-what? no, no this is." carmen nods, looking up at you. "you remembered."

you blink at him. "well, yeah. you said you were always forgetting and-and i figured it would be useful-"

"-it is. it's... thank you." carmen beams, the wave of emotions that hit him startle him a little, make him a little unsure. "thank you for this." then he's leaning in to kiss you, cradling your jaw in the dark lit restaurant.

as you're sharing your meal, pressed side by side, giggling and whispering to each other sweetly, a wave of clarity washes over carmen. he kinda gets the hype around valentine's day, for once.

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honeytonedhottie · 3 months

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dopamine detox challenge⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🍰

the definition of a dopamine detox is fasting from activities or pleasures that produce dopamine so that the drive for quick rewards decreases.

dopamine is naturally made by the brain. however, things like alcohol, caffeine, sugar, social media, video games, and substance use can sharply increase dopamine levels and lead to a type of addiction. and thats not hot ✨

BENEFITS OF THE DOPAMINE DETOX CHALLENGE ;

clarity

productivity

self awareness

self reflection

time management skills

self control

WHY DO A DOPAMINE DETOX ANYWAYS? ;

its true that dopamine produces pleasant sensations. when the body gets too much dopamine from different activities, it can start to require more and more dopamine to create those “good feelings”.

this can cause ur default mood levels to drop and in the long run leave you feeling worse and more unhappy over time.

SO WHATS THE CHALLENGE ;

step one - put a time limit on your phone or computer or whatever device that u find ur spending the most time on. put time limits on apps like tiktok, tumblr, instagram etc.

theres no need to put time limits on apps like your camera roll, text messages, apps that u use for school etc.

step two - when u wake up in the morning, do NOT check ur phone first thing in the morning. in fact, dont even pick up ur phone until an hour after wake up time.

step three - step one and two were for doing dopamine detox on a regular basis (daily/weekly), but if u wanna do a longer dopamine detox (monthly) get off of social media for an agreed amount of time and once you've completed that dopamine fast REWARD yourself.

ofc thats more extreme, but you know whats best for you and you know what u need the most so thats all you ✨

step four - find another activity to do. pick up a hobby that u used to enjoy doing or pick up an entirely new hobby. find something else to do OTHER than using ur phone. check the things to do while on a dopamine detox post so you can gather some inspo.

doing a dopamine detox can help you to take control of your mind and ur habits and push you towards the next level of you. and it improves ur mental health in the long run ✨

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mediumgayitalian · 21 days

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“Happy birthday!”

“Still not my birthday, Solace.”

“Eh. One day I’ll say it and it’ll be right.”

The flowers he’s holding — pretty, ruffled deep red, although Nico doesn’t recognise them — remains extended between them, clutched fist unwavering. Nico rolls his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek, and takes them.

“Of course, you could also just tell me when your birthday is.”

“No.” A pause. He brings the flowers up to his face, pointedly ignoring Will’s wink, and inhales. They smell almost identical to the shampoo Will wears. “You’re such a loser.”

“And yet you spend all your time with me.”

“Not — all,” Nico protests, cheeks burning. “I spend —”

Time with others, he was about to say, and while it is indeed true that he does, in fact, socialize with more than one person, he realises with startling clarity that Will is almost always there.

Will grins, wide and cheeky and knowing. “Having some thoughts, there, Neeks.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Will gasps dramatically, and when that is not enough he holds up a hand, digs a string of plastic pearls out from his many pockets, clasps them around his neck, clears his throat, and gasps even more dramatically, clutching said pearls.

Nico laughs.

Unfortunately.

But he chokes it back last minute and turns it into a weird horse noise instead, so he’s victorious, basically.

“How dare,” says Will, indeed dramatically, “how dare, di Angelo, deride me, your closest friend, in such a way —”

Nico deliberates his options. Should Will have the space unimpeded to continue on than he shall do so, with increasing gusto. At the six minute mark he will graduate to elevating himself on whatever surface makes itself available, from an infirmary stool to An Actual Roof, and project his voice to make sure that everyone suffers his Elizabethan histrionics, not just Nico (or Kayla or Austin or Lou especially Cecil or Mitchell or Piper or or or or). At the nine minute mark he will be accompanied, magically, by intense background music, because Apollo deserves all of his trauma. Nico doesn’t know what the ten minute mark will bring, but frankly he’d rather walk on hot coals with open sores on his feet than find out, so.

“— good friends, sweet friends, from this group I hail, and to such a sudden flood of mutiny! To bend to the leadborn suffering —”

When Nico gestures he is graceful, obviously. And poised. When Will gestures he narrowly avoids smacking himself square in the face nine times out of ten, and sometimes, like now, he actually does smack himself in the face, but for some reason this does not deter or embarrass him. Perhaps because he, like most Apollo children, does not actually have the part of his brain that produces shame, and such gleeful shamelessness shows in his devastatingly wide eyes. Which are, Nico notices, beginning searching for the nearest climbable surface.

Ah. Level one has been exceeded.

“Hide not thy poison with such sugar’s words —”

Drastic times, drastic measures; in time of theatre kid, regress to caveman instincts. Et cetera. Nico knows the drill. He’s a twice-adorned war hero. He understands sacrifice. He understands betrayal. He knows timing, knows difficulty. He knows the burden of doing the right thing to prevent further tragedy.

He sets his flowers delicately on the ground beside him, ties his hair back out of his face, does a couple stretches, exhales peacefully, and tackles Will to the floor.

“Shut up,” he grunts, over Will’s screeching. Will, predictably, does not shut up, moaning instead about his spleen, his spine, pausing to yell, loudly, et tu, Brutus?!, moaning about his kidneys, and then once again wallowing about Brutus and betrayal.

“Someone should take away your Riverside,” Nico says solemnly, pinching Will on the arm one last time for good measure before crawling off him.

Will remains on the floor, arm thrown over his eyes. “I would sooner live without the lungs in my chest.”

“It’s gonna be me. I’m taking away your Riverside.”

Will lifts his arm, searching to meet Nico’s eyes before pouting. It is a remarkably well-planned strategy, because he has very pretty eyes, and Nico is a flaming homosexual who is openly weak to Will’s wiles. Will, who is a shit and judging by the smirk he is barely fighting back in favour of a quivering lip, knows this.

“Don’t you love me?”

“No,” Nico lies. He forces himself away from Will’s gaze, ears burning. “Go away, you walking annoyance. I never want to see you or anything about you ever again.” He scoops up his flowers and stomps off, smiling as Will cackles.

He carries around the flowers for the rest of the day.

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obriengf · 2 months

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Jubilee || Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Summary: You find moments of clarity throughout your boyfriend's birthday. Words: 1.9k Warnings: totally added tay swift references - not really a warning (: Notes: despite the photo used in the banner, the reader is non-gender specific, non-race specific, etc.

April 8th, 1995 - Happy Birthday Stiles Stilinski ・❥・

You weren't sure what it was, exactly - maybe it was simply just how his eyes would widen with excitement, a childhood gleam that twinkled so exuberantly as he smiled. Or, it could be how his body jumped with so much positive energy, the balls of his feet built with springs as he bounded around with pure enthusiasm. Perhaps, it was really the way in which he couldn't stop talking, in absolute Stiles fashion, his mind and mouth running with stories and ideas and honest happiness. Selfishly, you would like to say that it was when he encased his body around yours and provided loving kisses with every 'thank you' during his never-ending expression of gratitude. Whatever it was, it made this time of year your favourite of them all. Nothing could beat celebrating your boyfriend's birthday.

His twenty-ninth year started with a tender peck - lips pressed to his cheek as they covered a freckled canvas, his skin warm as it remained settled under the morning sun that filtered through the blinds. It twitched from such a delicate sentiment and was followed by lashes dancing as the boy began to wake. He was so beautiful, and it prompted your heart to clutch in absolute awe.

His arm was heavy as it remained slung over your waist, despite pulling you closer to his chest in oblivious movements from his still-slumbered state. He hummed lightly against the shell of your ear, a sound of acknowledgement, wordless contentedness to the complacency you helped him feel. It made you kiss him again on the upturn of his nose and he groaned as it scrunched.

"Hi." You whispered so quietly, his caramel toned eyes fluttering once again as they tried to adjust to the morning light. Stiles smiled at you, completely loving with just a simple glance. A hum pushed past your lips, "Good Morning, handsome."

"It is now." He replied, so smooth, so swift. The truth embedded in such little words and encapsulated with sleepy raspiness.

Noses brushed as you giggled under your breath, your thumb rubbing gently under his eye, "And Happy Birthday."

He leaned into your touch as if it were moulded to fit his face, love exuberating from his features with ease, "Thank you, baby."

It was amusing to watch as Stiles shovelled his face with pancakes - the breakfast dish easily branded as his favourite, and seen quite evidently as he moaned loudly in satisfaction. The plate was stacked high and you knew that the sugar rush could potentially be catastrophic, but it was his day, and he deserved everything he desired.

An incredulous look was etched deeply into the furrowed brows and confused lift of Noah Stilinski's lips as he watched his son across the table. The coffee mug in his hand was teetering on the edge of lukewarm by now, but he couldn't tear his focus away. You'd think that after twenty-nine years, the man would be somewhat immune to the quirkiness of his son. Noah's eyes glanced briefly around your small kitchen space - an area where you and Stiles spent much of your time since you moved in together. He had always admired the varied elements representing you both and how easy it was for your lives to merge. It was as if soulmates were united, and this is how your beings were destined to be intertwined.

"You spoil him." Noah's deep voice broke through the silent chuckle you expelled toward your boyfriend, eyes managing to break free as they looked to the man beside you. Appreciation filled the small smile he shone your way and you couldn't help but release an elated exhale, your head nodding in agreement.

"I know." Your reply was simple but was spoken with the utmost adoration for Stiles, observing as a childish spark embodied him with joyousness; a light that took a while to finally settle within his heart after years of trepidation and great wars. A sigh pushed past your lips, "But he deserves it, all of it, after everything he's been through."

And you would give him the world on a silver platter if you could, but you knew that all Stiles truly wanted was to be content. He craved silly grown-up routines and times when he could relax without the threat of worry. He wanted to relive mundane moments from his teenage years that were short-lived due to monsters that lurked in the shadows. He yearned for endearment and safety and just simply knowing that you would be there every morning and night, curled up in his arms, loving him unconditionally. Stiles never asked for a lot, so days like today were ones you strived to make special. Because he deserved special, every last speck of it.

Noah snickered to himself, pride filling his chest as he looked between yourself and Stiles. "He deserves you most, ya know." His words struck a chord - one with melodic tunes, strummed hard enough to get your heart beating fast as a red blush pinched at your nose and cheeks. You reached across and placed a hand over his, your eyes bright as you looked at the older Stilinski.

"Thank you." That was all you ever wanted.

Stiles could work a room, especially when the buzz was centered around him. He had bounced across your living room several times by now, excitement filling his veins as he couldn't stop talking to the friends and family who came to see him for his birthday. You were standing off to the side, half listening as Scott was making conversation about his week at the Clinic - your focus was mostly on Stiles, admiring the way he was utilising his over-energetic nature and definite possible sugar hype from his breakfast. He had never looked happier as words flowed from him, a bottle of beer clutched between the fingers of his right hand as his left arm hung jovially over Liam's shoulders in deep narration.

"You're not listening, are you?" Scott spoke up, amused as his arms crossed over his chest and he leaned back casually against the wall.

"Sorry, Scotty." You offered a smile, apologetic tones seeping through and your friend couldn't help but shake his head as he returned your smile amiably. You took a sip of your own drink, making sure to turn your body slightly, attempting to provide full attention even though your mind still wandered whenever you heard your boyfriend's laugh. "I was, I just got a little distracted --"

" -- It's all good." He intercepted your explanation, a look of knowing putting you at ease. He knew well the effect that you and Stiles had on each other, for the most part, and how you were both connected so seamlessly by an invisible string that without fail drew you back to one another. It only made sense that a part of your focus would always be on him. "But kudos on the party. You definitely decked the place out, and Stiles seems to definitely be enjoying himself."

You hummed, eyes picking up the array of decorations that you so carefully placed only a couple of hours ago. "You know more than anyone that I'd do anything to just see him happy. After all, today is Stiles Day and honestly..." You trailed off, features already beginning to scrunch up as joviality shaped your words, "I think I like it more than Christmas."

You laughed, and Scott joined you. He agreed wholeheartedly as his hand splayed over his chest, head nodding and lopsided smile growing by the second.

It wasn't too long after when the crowd gathered around your dining table with Stiles perching at the head as he sat tall. The lights were turned off and the room became swallowed by darkness - building anticipation, creating an atmosphere of smiles and eagerness for the theatrics to follow. It was the sound of hissing that made ears perk and eyes swiftly track the source as it entered from the kitchen. You had gentle hands as his cake remained in your hold; silhouettes sitting against the walls from shoots of sparking fire that sat atop his cake. His gaze grew large, and the normal caramel tone of his eyes shifted to a glowing golden hue from the reflecting sparklers.

You placed the cake in front of Stiles before planting a tender kiss against the apple of his grinning cheek, your nose nuzzling into his favourite spot under his ear, "Happy Birthday, my handsome man."

The crowd began to sing, mismatched harmonies growing louder in the small space of your apartment. It was hasty as Stiles' large hands gripped at your waist, your body falling toward his own before he sat you in his lap. Legs dangled over his knees and it made you giggle against the curve of his shoulder. Stiles pecked your template before replicating your nuzzle, his nose dragging against your hairline, "I love you."

You watched as the sparklers danced patterns across his affectionate expression, completely mesmerised by him and the fortune you felt, before you smiled up at him, "I love you too. Now blow out those candles!"

It wasn't much different from your usual Monday night; the television played some reruns of comedies from the 90's, every light in the room was turned off except the dingy floor lamp beside the couch, and the coffee table was graced by Chinese takeout containers and leftover plates of birthday cake. Stiles slumped back against the soft cushions with his feet perched upon the table, socks cladding his feet as they moved in tune with the opening credits of an old sitcom. He was in complete comfort, only made better by your frame as it was situated under his arm with your head pressed to his chest and hands curled in the material of his t-shirt. His touch was absentmindedly dragging up and down your side with dancing fingers, the sentiment just barely felt as the movements remained delicate and featherlike.

"Today was amazing." He said so nonchalantly, voice hardly competing with the television as the sound remained low.

You burrowed yourself closer to him, tiredness beginning to takeover, "I'm glad."

Stiles grinned lazily, his lips puckered before pressing kisses down the expanse of your cheek as his nose trailed after them, "But this?Right now... full of cake and chow mein, us cuddling and watching Friends reruns... this is my favourite part. Without a doubt."

"But we do this practically every night." You mused, voice laced with humor and confusion before gently pulling away from him. Your brow was raised, but the puzzled expression across your features was captured with a smile.

"Yeah, we do, but... just knowing how much effort you put into making today the best birthday, it just makes it all mean so much more."

Your heart pattered, a rush of endearment and affection. It was loud and fast in your chest, but one would never have guessed from the quiet squeak of your voice that followed, "I only ever want the best for you."

"And all I ever want is you. Period."

The light from the television casted a blue glow as you leant forward, your arms encasing themselves around Stiles' neck as thighs straddled his own. The programme was long forgotten, and his face settled against your shoulder. You could feel him breathe you in as his own arms wrapped around to your back, his large splayed hands pushing your body further against him.

You kissed the crown of his head, fingers gentle as they tangled themselves in the loose locks of his hair, "Happy Birthday, Stiles."

#dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #stiles stilinski fic #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski x you #teen wolf x you

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 6 months

Text

Northern attitude

Previous chapter

a/n I welcome you to the second part for more Sugar and Ghost. Did I have a right to form attachment to these two in two chapters? No. But here I am. Enjoy.

summary: mission gone bad, feels a little like enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort sort of goodness.

warnings: blood, wounds, needles, death, hospitals, IV's, vomiting, trauma... I think that's all...

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"Keep the chest compressions going", the female voice filled the space that now seemed as buzzing as the actual hospital room. Not that any of them truly had been in the midst of it all. But army hospitals, especially while on the move, could and did get chaotic at times. "You'll need another shot of adrenaline", a calm and collected tone instructed. Gaz looked into Soap's eyes, who has been ramming at your heart for some time now. The two males nodded at one another. "Coming in 3 2 1", Gaz called out as they switched for only a heartbeat or two. Soap's hand left your chest, while Gaz aimed the needle right toward your left shoulder.

Simon felt as if he was in a daze. In one of his nightmares, maybe. Yeah, maybe that's what it was. One of his nightmares where he was aware that he was in his mind traps. Yet he didn't recall what had happened after he started shaking your body. Who pulled you out of his arms? Who pushed him to the side?

"Go back to stimulating the heart, Johnny. Hum, while you're at it", Ghost knew that voice now that his brain had granted him a moment of clarity. Eleanor Price's wife was a medic and a woman not ready to give up on her adoptive daughter. Desperate and ready to do anything. Make the four basic medical knowledge-baring males do everything they can so her baby girl will come back home. Come home, but not in a casket. Simon had no clue who even dialed her number. The phone was used for emergencies only. They were strictly advised not to use it until it was a life-or-death situation. The call had to be directed straight to the base. Eleanor wasn't at the base. But somehow, that made Simon calmer. He was happier that it was her and not some careless idiot in charge.

"You need to start the drip", another desperate order filled the space. "I can't, El,", Price said, running a hand through his face in frustration. "John, for fuck sake, you've done it before. Put it in her hand, the palm; don't go full vein, but do it damit", that was the first time Simon caught onto her voice, quivering. For a split second, her cool doctor mask had slipped, making Price clench his jaw so tight that his voice was barely a groan. "Eleanor", he breathed. "Keep humming, Soap," she barked at the man now responsible for pumping your heart, ignoring her husband. And Soap did. His humming grew louder. I got a pocket—a pocket full of sunshine echoing from the walls, accompanied by his thick Scottish accent—now that he too was under lots of stress.

Gaz ran back into the main room with the pouch full of liquid. "Got it", he said breathlessly. "Good, you see that there are two different colored liquids?", Gaz nodded too overstimulated to realize that Eleanor could not see him. "There is", Price said for him. "Good, bend it. It needs to mix, then start the drip, or so help me, God, I will never forgive you, John".

Maybe not a nightmare. Maybe a bad movie. One Ghost hoped he would forget eventually. He just sat there. While everything buzzed around him. For the very first time, he felt helpless. That was a lie. He had only felt helpless that night. The night when all of the people he loved got slaughtered. The night he was forced to lock the last bits of his humanity away. To promise himself that no one would ever get close to him. He would not make friends. He would never fall in love. But here he was. Your blood was still all over him. Simon's hands were tinted. Permanently tinted. It felt almost like an out-of-body experience. He knew this was happening, but a part of him kept on screaming that this was not real and couldn't be. That fate wouldn't be so cruel. Yes, Ghost wasn't a good man, but selfishly, he was sure that after all that he had been through, his debts had to be paid off by now.

Ghost didn't know why, but his brain took him back to the base. The room you two shared. Did he hate it at first? Yes. But you brought peace. You brought life. His room was bland and colorless. Now, with your posters and books, plants, and fucking throw blankets, it felt like living there was intensional. Like you, and only you had to return there. And that was important to Simon. He cared about it. Cared about you even if his snarling demeanor wouldn't let it show.

There were nights when he would find you passed out with your book in your hands. The hardcover digging into your neck. It was not enough to hurt, but it sure had to be uncomfortable. Simon had stood there for a solid ten minutes, the first time it had happened, just watching your slumbering frame. He turned around and went about his nightly routine. He had gone and laid down in his bed. But only a handful of moments later, he was out, crossing the white line. He had gently pulled the book from your skin, using your pen to mark the page you were on. Pulling the blanket over your shoulders because the base got rather cold at night. He told himself that he couldn't allow a soldier on his team to get sick because manpower was crucial, but deep down, he knew that any other lad could be freezing his balls off for all he cared. It was you. You were the main factor in this equation. There was something even back then that didn't sit well with him when it came to you not being well.

"It's bleeding, Eleanor", John's desperate voice filled Ghost's mind, and it was like his systems had been restarted. His eyes darted toward the table. Onto John's slumped shoulders as he fidgeted with the needle. Simon jumped up. He rounded the table to push John's hand off as he reached for the tape, repositioning the very tip of the needle before securing it in place. "You need to keep it stable", Eleanor's voice rang out. "Simon just did it", John breathed out. The room stilled for a moment. They were running out of things they could do to keep you alive. To keep you with them. Ghost held onto your hand. He hoped that everyone would take it as just him making sure that your skin wasn't puffing up, indicating that the incision was done incorrectly. And none of the men, sweaty and mentally exhausted, would have said anything. But Eleanor did.

"Simon, you're okay, sweetheart?", It was so soft. Too soft. She should be yelling. Simon was responsible for what had happened here. Maybe even more, because he should have ripped all the doors that separated him from you. Should not have followed everyone into the safe house. "She will fight; you know it; you stay strong for her. She needs you", Ghost bit onto his cheeks, feeling the taste of iron filling his mouth. He had met Eleanor a couple of times. The woman was an angel. How John had landed her was beyond him, but she was exactly what you had been for the team. A breath of fresh air. Some days when everyone was off duty, she would ring up everyone, inviting them for a barbecue at her and Price's shared home. "Positive", Ghost breathed out, yanking the wall of steel back up. He couldn't let himself feel it. Not here. Not now.

"Her chest", Soap's two words were enough to shift the focus back to the table. His big eyes looked between the rest of his team and the women on the living room table. "Soap", Eleanor's voice carried both worry and hope. "It's moving, she's...", Johnny's voice died down, only to be overshadowed by Eleanor's once more, "Count her pulse for me; tell me if it's steady enough". No one breathed for a moment, as if afraid to chase it away. As if they inhaled too much oxygen themselves, there would not be enough for you. A minute passed. Two. Three.

"Yeah", Johnny breathed, "It's steady. Weak but... but...", a sob slipped past his lips, followed by a cry from Eleanor. Gaz sank to his knees, his chest heavy, as he tried to catch his breath. John moved past them all, rushing towards the side door. But the distance between him and the room wasn't big enough for the rest of them to not hear him heaving. "Fucking hell, Bonnie, you just took ten years of my life", Soap carefully ran his hand over your leg, his head falling back as the quiet tears continued to flow. "Keep a watch on her for me, boys", Eleanor sniffled from the other side. Simon leaned over. His face pressed into your side as he tried to keep his tears at bay. Not even for a moment letting go of your hand.

That was three weeks ago. They had managed to keep you alive for two days in that house. Two days. Finally, transportation from the base was provided to get all of them out of there. The doctors had told them straight to the face that what they had been doing was God's work. They were the reason you were still breathing. But even under the unfaltering gaze of the base doctors, Ghost still couldn't shake the feeling of you slipping away.

Simon was down in the medical wing every day. Some days, he stood for hours in the corner of the room. Some days, he pulled himself a chair and sat by your side. It was the nights that were the hardest, though. Because now all Ghost saw was you. All he felt was a lack of your presence. If he did manage to slip into a restless sleep, he would be up in no time. Sweaty and panting. He would reach for his hoodie as he moved through the quiet hallways to get to you.

"Debrief starts at five", Soap's head popped into the hospital room. Making Ghost stutter on the last words that he was reading as he slowly lowered one of your books to his lap. Most of his mornings looked the same. Quick shower. Breakfast if he was up for it. Your hospital room. Training. Back to your hospital room. Days when he had to be in meetings or debriefs were the ones he hated the most. That meant he had to be away from you for longer than he was willing. "Copy", he said sternly, eager to at least finish the page he was on. And even more so, hoping that Soap would go away. Simon had nothing against the guy. Out of everyone, he liked Johnny the most. The two had a similar sense of humor, and working together never felt like a never-ending nightmare. Just the Scot talked a lot. At times, it was fun, and Simon's ever-running brain benefited from it. But there were times, like now, when he wished that the man would get the message and go his own way. "Ain't my place to say this, but...", the door cracked open a bit more, "I'm sure that she loves that you're here", Simon was so glad that his back was turned to Soap because he was sure that he would be able to see his face falter. Fingers grinning at the book just a bit tighter. "Copy, Soap, you can go", Ghost's tone was more than unamused. He didn't want to break in front of any of them. The safe house had already been a dead giveaway of how Simon felt when it came to you. And he didn't want anyone to know anything else. "And she...", Soap started once more, but Ghost just lifted his hand up, making all sounds die down. "Copy", Simon said thickly through his teeth. He knew that it was selfish to push everyone away like that. You two were also friends. Close ones at that. Simon knew that Soap loved you. He had a front-row ticket to watch that after the mission went south. But he just couldn't. Couldn't do it now. When the door quietly kicked shut, Simon let out a sigh, his eyes darting towards the clock on the wall. He had to go, even if he didn't want to.

"I'll be back", he muttered softly, placing the book on the little table by your bed. "Will finish reading that book for you later", Ghost reached his hand out, softly running his fingers over your forehead, lingering touches stretching out for longer than they should. "You sleep well, Sugar", he breathed out, leaning in to place a kiss on the side of your head and stilling right beside you as he let himself listen to the sound of your breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. And he was pulling away, running a hand through his face before he walked out of the room.

Ghost barely said a word in the debrief. When Kate asked for his input, the man shrugged his shoulders and said, "You read my report; you know my thoughts". Was the upper management getting fed up with him at this point? Most definitely. Yet no one managed to put the lack of everyone's involvement against them. Most of the base had been rather quiet when they wheeled you through the corridors, almost lifeless. And yes, the key thing was not to get emotionally attached. Teammates came and went, but everyone knew just as well how tight everyone in this group was. Or came to realize that with the four men following the doctors in one quick stride.

"Ghost", Price's voice yanked Simon back to the meeting room. An almost empty meeting room at that. "A word alone in my office", the captain said, only waiting for a head nod before walking away. Simon followed suit. He knew there was no other option. "Eleanor said you didn't call her back", John mused, reaching for the lighter as he puffed out smoke. Ghost's face stayed blank as he muttered, "I didn't see the call". That was a lie. He did. And there was more than one. Simon just couldn't pick up. The same way he couldn't watch the way Price's wife had sobbed in her husband's chest when they had just returned. The guilt was too much. The sight of her sobbing only made Simon think that it was over. An hour. Maybe two. And your body will be in the bag. Stored away in the cold room.

"Simon", John snapped his hand in front of Ghost's eyes, making the male blink a couple of times. "Is that all, sir?", his voice was grim. Even Simon was struggling to recognize himself. John frowned, "Don't you sir me, boy", a warning finger was jabbed into Simon's chest. A moment of silence. A deep exhale. "Her vitals are getting better. She will pull through", Price said softly, clapping Ghost's shoulders, but the man simply shook his head and said, "You don't know that". And it's like that's all Price needed to realize where the stem of all of this denial was rooted. "I called the shots there. It's on me, not you", the captain said firmly, that same warning finger now pointing directly at his chest. Neither of them said anything else afterward. They just stood there. Eyes burning into each other.

Price's eyes narrowed for a moment before he muttered, "Do you like her? My, Sug, do you like her?", the question threw Simon off the hilt. He didn't expect it here. Now. It wasn't supposed to be discussed here. Like that. And my Sug... Fucking hell. It was his captain's daughter Simon was falling for. Biological or not, she was still a daughter. And for the first time, did he realize how much shit this could bring you both? Maybe it was one-sided even. But the way you held onto him. Your touch. Simon had never been touched so tenderly in his life. And what's more, for the very first time, he didn't want to pull away. "Because if you play...", Price's tone shifted completely as he spoke his words, and Ghost cut him off quickly, "Positive. I do... I like her". John simply nodded at his words, making Simom mimic his movements. The older male scratched his chin before waving Simon away, and he didn't waste a minute before turning away. He'll deal with the potential consequences later on.

Simon was almost out the door when a voice stopped him. "Simon", Price called out once more, making the soldier turn back, "I expect you to mow my lawn in the summer". A strange, warm sensation filled Simon's chest as he looked at the man in front of him, smiling as he puffed out another cloud of smoke. Ghost lets himself linger for a heartbeat more before he closes the door, heading towards the medical wing once more.

"I also overwatered your succulent", Simon said quietly as he looked out of the window in your room. The rest of the team had slowly turned the little, awfully sterol-looking room into a somewhat comfortable place. Or at least a place that screamed less about the inevitable outcome they all feared the most. A plush blanket. Some of your books. A night lamp in the shape of a duck. That was a gift from Soap. Was it slightly questionable? Yes. But everyone dealt with this in their own way, so if bringing you a light-up duck made Soap happy in some way, so will it be.

"I bought you a new one, but... still felt like you should know", Simon continued. He was doing this a lot. Way too much. Maybe? Ghost wasn't sure what was normal or not at this stage. Yet he couldn't help but feel that you would be sitting there with an eyebrow lifted at the number of words he was sharing. One thing everyone knew was that Ghost didn't speak unless it was necessary. Some called it arrogance. Others said that that was just his cold demeanor. The truth was, no one truly stopped to listen or cared for Simon for most of his life. So he got used to it. But talking to you, at least now, made him feel lighter. Besides the reading he did here, Simon also went over meetings with you. A part of him didn't want you to feel left out. Not that your unconscious body cared, but... if you could hear him. He wanted you to feel involved. Then there were an endless amount of stories about how and who had pissed him off that day.

"I...", Ghost's voice dies down as he turns back to face you. You looked like a doll laid neatly on the sheets. They have moved the IV out today. Nothing more but a heart monitor left running. Eleanor had no doubt been here while he was in the debrief because your hair had been brushed. Simon let out a sigh as he pulled a chair for himself, quickly shrugging off his gloves.

"You know, you caught my attention the moment I saw you", his hand hovered above yours for a moment. He didn't trust himself to touch you. What if he harmed you in some way? What if he triggered a negative reaction? "Fucking hell, did you keep us on your toes", Ghost shook his head, "I took it for granted. I'd do anything to see you striding past the main entrance once again". Simon let his head fall over your stomach. Oddly enough, that was the only time that his head seemed to work these days. Taking a deep breath, Simon let the feeling of your body slowly ground him. You're here. With him. He can hear your heart beating. Your body is no longer cold. You even have some of your color back. He can...

A sudden rustling of the sheets makes every single muscle in Simon's body seize. For a moment, he can't even hear his own heart as he stays as still as he can. One heartbeat. Another. Nothing. Devastation rushes through him. He had gotten so sensitive to the sounds in this room. A gentle hand caresses his scalp, and Simon jerks away.

Blinking rapidly, only to find your half-hooded eyes open. Looking right back at him. "No", Simon muttered, fully convinced that his lack of sleep had finally gotten the best of him. He doesn't move away, but he digs the back of his palm into his eyes. "Simon...", and it's barely a whisper. So weak still, but it's there, and... Simon's shoulders quiver. There's no sound. Not a single hick-up, but you know.

Every single part of your body feels as if it's on fire. The room is dim, but gods, it's still too bright for your sensitive eyes. Yet you can't take your eyes away from the man drowning in his own emotions right next to you. You carefully reach out for him, muscles soar from the lack of movement. Brushing your fingers through his hair. Scratching his scalp. You have no idea how long you've been out, but you've heard him talking. Soothing the anxiety of being trapped in nothing but darkness.

"Si", You breathe out once more, trying to tug at his wrist softly. Wanting nothing more than to see his eyes once again. Simon gives in instantly, the tears soaking his mask. You try to wipe some of them away, but his fingers wrap around your frail wrist. For a second, you are convinced that he will push you away, but he does quite the opposite. With both of his palms, Simon presses your hand into his cheek. Leaning into your touch.

"You died... I held you," he says through heavy breaths, pulling at your heart, "You... the blood". You shake your head slowly. "Look at me", you say softly, coughing slightly. At the feeling of your dry throat, Simon is out of the chair, lifting the water jug to pour you a glass before carefully cradling your head as he helps you take a couple of sips. That's enough to chase some of the big emotions away. Enough to give time for Ghost to pull the iron mask back on, but his eyes still glisten.

"I'm here, aren't I?", you whispered, "That pink rug was too appealing to give up", you joke slightly, and it's enough to make Ghost let out somewhat of a chuckle. "You don't have to die to buy a rug for our room", Simon says, head turning to look at the monitor as if waiting to see something that would still prove to him that this wasn't happening. "You look like shit, LT. Losing sleep over a girl doesn't look good on you", you mutter, and Simon lets out a dry huff. "Because I'm a decent bloke, I won't comment on how you look", you let out a gasp in return, and that nearly sent him flying off his chair because the man is on such high alert that anything rings danger bells in his head now. "I'm okay, just trying to be dramatic with you", you say, squeezing his hand softly, trying to get him to calm down once more. Silence falls. Not an uncomfortable one. One that fully captures the shared amount of words running through both of your minds.

"I heard you, you know? Kind of pissed that you think that Jack deserved to get his heart broken," Simon snorts, running his fingers through his hair. His shoulders droop. All of the adrenaline that's been keeping him upright is finally wearing off. Leaving him feeling heavy and weak. "Should I get the others? Price would...", Ghost breathed, turning to get up, but you grabbed onto his hand quickly. "I just want you right now", you muttered straight away, realizing how dumb and desperate that sounded, "If you don't mind".

Simon scoffed, "Sugar, I sat here for three weeks begging for all the holy things that you would pull through", You bit your lip at his words. You knew that he did. You felt him. Heard him. Smelled him. He had been your lifeline all this time. "If I could, I would pull rank to get myself off duty so I could sit here till you fully recover", Ghost says, rolling his eyes, now doubtful at everyone who has been up his ass for not attending every single meeting. You smile at him weakly, feeling the little bits of your energy slowly giving out. Yet you still muster what's left of it to move your head up so you could run your fingers beneath Simon's eyes, where the darkest tired bags screamed about the lack of sleep he was getting.

"Get in bed," You tap the side next to you softly. You have no idea how you both will fit here, but you can't watch him practically fall asleep by your side. He had already spent way too many nights in that tiny plastic chair. "Shouldn't we at least go on a date first?", Simon jokes, making your cheeks grow crimson, and you're convinced that they are a dead giveaway of how you are feeling. "Oh, fuck you...", you huff, trying to frown, but the smile that tugged at your lips was too strong. "Lay with me, so you could sleep. So we both could sleep", you say once more, not letting go of his hand. With the size of this man, the bed will get crampy. But you didn't care. You needed to feel him close. To just know that he was with you. Fully. As if reading your mind, Simon got up, climbing into the bed from your good side. Making sure your uninjured shoulder was pressed against him.

"Is this okay?", he said after a moment of you two moving around to find a comfortable position for the two of you. "You can wrap your hands around me; you don't have to lay there like a log", you chuckled, tugging at his sleeve and urging him to cling onto you the way you were clinging to him. Ghost chuckled softly, leaning in to kiss your head. Your hand instantly moves up to cradle the side of his masked face. The feeling of the soft material soothing to your senses. "I fucking missed you", Ghost breathed after a moment of silence. Fingers running up and down your back. You slowly peeled your eyes open, fighting the tiredness just for a heartbeat longer. Meeting his soft eyes as looked down at you. "I missed you too, Simon. Been missing you since the moment I saw you", you smiled softly, turning to press a loving kiss on his chest, right over his heart, before you lay your head back, listening to the steady drumming.

#simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod x reader #ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod x you #cod imagine

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selfindulgentpixies · 9 months

Text

Soothing words and decaf

Satoru Gojo x Reader x Suguru Geto one shot

When nightmares wake you up once again your boyfriends decide they can't just leave you to sit up alone. Gn!reader, reader wears glasses and has bad eyesight, not stated where in the timeline this is. It's an AU where Suguru never left though. This is really just to comfort myself because my nightmares have been bad lately and making sleep super difficult. It why i've been slow on writing stuff because i'm tired a lot. Also i couldn't decide on just one of them for this comfort fic and needed to be doted on by both. Pls excuse any typos or mistakes

You wake with a start, a stuttering in your chest and a choked gasp. You gaze blearily up at the ceiling, your current location slowly invades your senses and pushes away the personal hell your subconscious had been creating for you. There’s warm breath fanning over the crown of your head. It would probably be ruffling your bangs if not for the fact they were plastered to your forehead by the sweat. You glance to your right and see that at some point in his sleep Satoru had decided you were his personal teddy bear. Your eyes then drift to the left and you jolt slightly to find that Suguru is blinking back at you with a combination of tiredness and concern.

“Another one?” He asks, voice low and thick with sleep. This had unfortunately become routine.

You go to speak and nothing comes out the first try but upon clearing your throat slightly and trying again you let out a small. “Yeah.. Go back to sleep, Sugu.”

He huffs a little at your words and how you begin to try and wiggle out of Satoru’s arms without waking him. An impossible task given that all three of you weren’t what anyone could call heavy sleepers. Trauma will do that afterall. So it’s unsurprising when Satoru grumbles and tightens his grip on you. “You should take your own advice.” Satoru’s voice is just as gravely as Suguru’s and when you glance up you see him peering down at you with his impossibly bright eyes.

“You know I can’t do that… Let me up and the two of you can get some sleep.” You scoot up to a sitting position, Satoru's arms wrapped around your waist making your task of reaching over him to the side table to get your glasses a far harder task than it needed to be. You whine and flop on him. Fine you’d just be blind. You wiggle down and under his arm, surprised he allowed you to do so as you slide to the end of the bed to get up.

You didn’t feel like giving Satoru a chance to change his mind about letting you go so you don’t walk past him to get your glasses and instead just pad your way into the kitchen. Your shared apartment with the two men was so familiar you could probably navigate it wearing Satoru’s blindfold.

Once you’re close enough to the microwave to make out the little glowing numbers you let out a huff. It wasn’t even five am yet. You’d maybe managed to get four hours of sleep which was becoming painfully typical. Today would be another day of surviving off coffee and hopefully slipping in a nap as soon as you got a chance. Your nightmares seemed to happen less when you slept during the day.

You’re shuffling around the cupboards getting down what you need to make coffee when you hear quiet foot falls, perhaps near silent for someone else but your ears were sensitive and seemingly more so when you chose to mostly forgo being able to see. Anything beyond a couple feet away from you losing all clarity and blurring around the edges. Impressions of objects you only recognized based on familiarity.

Well mostly. “That’s the sea salt, love.” Suguru whispers against the shell of your ear as he takes the long cylindrical container from your hand to place back on the shelf and then grabs a very similar but not identical container that houses the sugar.

You grumble. “Why do we even keep them next to eachother on the shelf?” Suguru’s hair tickling your neck makes you twitch slightly but you don’t brush it or him away as he leans over you, enveloping you in his warmth, resting his chin on your head as he bends at the waist and wraps his arms around your middle.

“Normally you’re wearing your glasses and can tell the difference.” there’s the smallest hint of amusement to his voice.

You sigh. That was true. It annoys you but it’s true. You rock back on your heels and lean into his chest. “Really you should get more sleep. Go cuddle with Satoru, I’m sure he’s lonely trying to sleep alon-”

A loud yawn cuts through the kitchen as Satoru walks in. “Too late, already here.”

“Seriously you both should-”

“If we should be sleeping so should you. So either you come back to bed with us, or we’re all starting our day at this ungodly hour.” You feel Suguru’s jaw moving against the top of your head as he talks.

You frown deeply, slouching in his hold. “I… can’t sleep okay? If i go back to sleep it’ll probably just start again.”

Suguru hums and rocks the both of you back and forth. “Then it sounds like we’re all getting up then, right Satoru? “ He turns you both so you’re facing Satoru who’s much closer now.

Another yawn. “Sounds about right.” And as he says this he places your glasses on your face, bringing his own into focus for you. Satoru is beautiful as always but definitely looks like he needs more sleep. But you know very well how stubborn both he and Suguru are, they’re worse than you are.

You cave. “Fine, stay up if you want then.” You wanted to sound petulant but instead you just sound tired. Suguru Squeezes you before rising to his full height and releasing you. “Go relax, I’ll make the coffee.”

Before you can respond he gives you a small nudge in Satoru’s direction who doesn’t give you time to protest as he scoops you up and carries you toward the plush living room couch. He flops both of you down before rolling you so he’s squishing you into the plush fabric. “Satoruuuu-” You try to protest as he nuzzles into your neck. If you were more awake you might have caught on to what the two men were doing since in the kitchen Suguru put away the regular coffee and switched it out for decaf before brewing it. They still had some hope of lulling you back to sleep and caffeine wasn’t part of that. They knew you well enough that you likely just needed to be soothed and given time to get out of your head so you could be directed back to bed.

“Mmm don’t want to cuddle me?” He pouts at you.

“You’re squishing me, you big menace!”

The two of you go back and forth, you sinking back into the couch and giving Satoru his way despite complaining when what feels like suddenly Suguru is there holding two mugs of coffee and judging by the heap of whipcream on the third mug a cup of hot chocolate for Satoru. He kicks one of Satoru’s legs. “Move over and quit crushing them. “

Satoru grunts and starts to complain until he looks At Suguru and spots the mug topped with whipcream. He sits up quickly, suddenly looking angelic which earns a sigh from both you and the long haired man. You sit up and give Suguru a grateful smile as he passes you one of the steaming mugs. “Thank you, Sugu.”

“Of course.” He leans forward and brushes his lips over your forehead. He gets you to scoot over slightly and as you often do you find yourself squished between the two men. You didn’t need to be squished, the couch was big enough, Satoru just seemed dead set on not moving further than he had to.

You don’t really talk as you quietly sip at your coffee, instead listening to Satoru and Suguru talk about the upcoming day, voices low and soothing. You hardly notice when your mug is pulled from your hands and placed on the coffee table before you can spill the remnants of your drink on your lap. You blink rapidly realizing you’ve been completely zoned out only now to have Satoru’s face directly in yours. It’s brief because the next thing you know he’s picked you up for the second time that night, or rather morning. “Satoru-” You cut off in a yawn and wrap your arms around his shoulders, body shaking slightly with a stretch.

“I think it’s time we head back to bed. Suguru and I have been talking to you and you haven’t even noticed,” he says amusement clear in his voice. You can hear Suguru in the background putting your mugs in the sink before following the two of you.

“Mm sorry,” you mumble against his shoulder, your glasses being pushed askew though you couldn’t care less. You feel more than hear Satoru laugh. And it feels like in the next blink he’s laying you back in bed, and gently slipping your glasses off before crawling in after you, wrapping you in his arms. It’s only a couple moments later that Suguru follows. A rough warm hand sliding under your sleep shirt to splay over your stomach.

You’re finally back asleep then, safely tucked between the two of them where no harm can come to you, even if your dreams make you feel otherwise. The two of them will always be there to remind you that you’re safe.

@nanamikentoseyebags @strawberrystepmom @icy-spicy

@gojoest

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #gn!reader #jjk x reader #geto x reader #satosugu x reader #gojo x reader x geto #rossi writes

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