I’ve got a request please!! Maybe one with Tucker where reader isn’t feeling very well (could be a cold or period related ailments, up to you) and he stays with her to keep her entertained while everyone else goes out. Like she’s part of his crew on tour and they spend the night chilling on the bus? Also bonus points if she’s on the shy side. Idk could be cute, sorry if I was too specific 😭
STOP THIS COULD BE SO CUTE ugh
pretty please guys lmk what you thought of this!!!
word count: 1.5k
warnings: bad period pains, mainly fluff, this is my first ever fic and may be absolute shitballs x
divider by @uzmacchiato !
You'd quite literally groaned out loud when you woke up from your nap that god-awful afternoon, the blinding sunbeams hitting you square in the eyes through the gap in the curtains.
Everything hurt. Literally everything. Your back ached from the weird, curled-up position you'd half-slept in, your head pounding so profusely that it felt like your skull was splitting in half and trying to escape, not to mention that each time you swallowed, it got caught halfway in your throat, clawing at it like sandpaper.
But none of that even remotely compared to the agonising pains in your stomach that physically took your breath away. Your hands shot straight to your tummy, clutching it tightly like if with enough force, you could out-cramp the cramps and make them disappear.
Obviously, this wasn't a new phenomenon to you, but it never got easier like everyone told you it would. You'd just learnt to live with it - it became routine to just chuck back a few Tylenol and pretend like it did anything for you whilst ignoring the persistent shaky hands and light-headedness that threatened to take over. Periods, especially on the tour bus, were a living hell for you, and there had been more than one occasion where they’d had to quickly find a guitarist to fill in for you when doing a show was just out of the question.
Never a choice of yours, of course - you had a tendency to really downplay and deflect your pain, because you could handle it, really,you promised - something Tucker hated more than words could express.
But today? Nope. Today was your day off and you were gonna let yourself be whiny and sad and maybe rope your boyfriend into watching The Notebook with you yet again and ooh, maybe he'd go out and get you that milkshake you really, really wanted to try and-
"Baby? Y'awake?" A gentle knock on the door, unmistakably Tucker's, broke your chain of thought. "We're leaving at 7. I'm gonna be in the lounge with Neema if you need me, okay?"
-and, never mind. Of course, you'd all planned to go out tonight - best bar in Colorado or some shit. Fucking amazing. Simply great. How you yearned to sit in a dingy little room full of rowdy alcoholics and prissy college kids while your uterus literally sheds and bleeds out.
"Babe?" Another knock, louder this time.
You sat up - big mistake - and winced at the sharp aftermath of your swift change in position.
"Yep, coming." You croaked out, voice barely audible as it crawled from your arid throat.
“You okay? You don’t sound well.” You could practically hear the crease in his brows as he called out to you from behind the sliding door to your guys’ room.
“Fine, fine.” was the response you coughed out just a little too quickly while slowly getting up from the bed, hands still planted on your stomach. “Just, um, tired- ah!” You hunched over as another cramp ricocheted through you, causing you to take a small stumble backwards and land - thankfully - back onto the bed.
His voice was a slightly higher pitch now, clearly starting to get a bit worried now. “Hey- hey, are you okay in there? Alright, I’m coming in-”
“Nope! No, you don’t have to come in! I’m okay, I promise, baby. Just stubbed my toe.” You laughed nervously, mainly to conceal your pain as you physically crawled on all fours to the bathroom. “Fine, fine, I’m fine.” You reiterated as you finally made it inside, locking the door and completely slumping onto the cold bathroom tiles.
It was a nice comparison to the hot flush arising under your skin, but the pain was still as present as ever. It took all of your energy not to whimper out loud as the ringing in your ears got louder and louder, almost completely drowning out Tucker’s soothing voice just a couple feet away from you.
“Y/N, angel? Let me in, please, sweetheart. Know you’re not okay. Just let me in so I can take care of you, yeah? M’not afraid of beating the door down if you won’t…” He chuckled at the end but even from behind the door you could see through him like no one else. He was definitely panicking.
Slowly, gradually, you shifted just enough to be able to reach the door lock, turning it anti-clockwise to which he immediately pulled down the handle. Inside, the most devastating sight he had ever seen - your beautiful body curled up into a tiny ball, shaking on the freezing floor as your expression contorted into one of immense agony. Deep wrinkles etched into your face from how tightly you were screwing it up, fighting off the pain like the brave girl you were. His brave girl.
“Oh, sweetheart…” He murmured, the image in front of him almost too much for his heart to handle. He instinctively leaned down to gather you into his arms - months of lifting at the gym had paid off pretty well, if he did say so himself, this right here being his sole motivation - and sat down on the closed toilet lid with you securely in his lap.
The guitar-calloused tips of his fingers ever so gently brushed through your soft locks of hair - the only thing he could think of to do as the dam finally busted open and you let yourself sob into his neck. Your shoulders shook whilst your free-flowing tears soaked the collar of his dress shirt (though that was the last thing on his mind) and he slowly rocked you back and forth.
“Hey, shh. You don’t have to hide from me. None of that. Let it all out, baby.” His soft whispers had you melting into his steady hold, the hands that subconsciously gripped his shirt moving to sling around his neck. It was your favourite spot there - the perfect place to hide in or kiss or bite or cry.
There was just something about him that made everything feel better - maybe it was the extra pair of shoulders to balance your weight on, or how he seemed to anchor you in situations where you felt like you were floating away from yourself. But sometimes it was just him. Nothing he did per se, just the way he knew you, saw you. The way he always knew how to love you the right way when you couldn’t figure out how to do it yourself. And for once, you didn’t have the energy to fight it. You just let him dote on you in the way you always assumed you didn’t deserve.
After a while, your stomach seemed to settle a little - at least so much so that you could form a comprehensible thought or two - which only caused you to pout into his neck as you were reminded of your later plans.
Tucker, of course, noticed this immediately and wasn’t one to let anything slide. “What is it, angel? Hurts? Wish I could take your pain from you, my sweet girl.” He mumbled and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his own eyes watery at the mere thought of you suffering so deeply with nothing he could do to fix it.
“Yeah.” You whimpered, sniffling. “S’just, it’s nearly 7. Don’t wanna make you guys late.” You shifted in his lap so that you guys became impossibly closer, as if you physically could not stand a single atom of space separating you.
He immediately frowned, that disgustingly adorable crease between his eyebrow reappearing once more. “Hey, no. The others can piss off. You think I’m leaving you alone here to go to some fuckass bar when I could be taking care of the love of my life? Come on,” he murmured and pressed another firm kiss to your forehead. “You gotta lie down, sweetheart. I’ll run you a bath, yeah? With those lavender-y, bubbly little shits.”
That earned a watery giggle from you, lifting your face from his now very damp neck to face him. “Kay. They’re called bath bombs, though, baby.”
“Don’t care about the bath bombs, sweetheart. I just care about you. Oh, and what was that thing you kept sending me TikTok's about yesterday? Cinnamon-curly-swirly-wirly milkshake or something?” He propped you up higher on his thighs to be able to see you better.
"You remember my cinnamon swirl milkshake?"
It made your heart flutter when he nodded immediately. "'Course I do, angel. Swear you talked about it more yesterday than you've ever talked about me."
His exaggerated jealously made you roll your eyes. "Soooo...does that mean you'll get me a cinnamon roll as well? Pretty please?"
He sighed in defeat. "Well, I need a fair contest to prove I'm way more exciting, don't I?"
