Kuroko No Basket × Reader Oneshots

'Aftercare': Aomine Daiki

"You know out of all the girls flocking toward you  . . . you could've chosen any one of them and taken 'em home." She snatched the lighter out of his grasp and threw, and out it flew through the ajar door. It landed with a pathetic sound to it. "I'm asthmatic."

With an exasperated sigh and a roll of his eyes, he replied in an equally dead tone, "What do you want me to say? You're different? Special? You just have your mind in check unlike the rest of them." Hair hung over his eyes as he looked at her. "And you were a virgin."

That statement should've triggered a slap from her.

And she should've been offended and slapped the living soul out of him. Or his basketball skills that landed him his almost ten-year career.

How did a young sports journalist find herself wrapped around a national player's finger? Especially around who's notorious for being a playboy.

The cheerleader's who were equally on the same level of athletic skill as his should've captured his attention.

But she was used to him being like that. 

And she thought that she could handle the one-sided love she felt toward him. It wasn't ideal to continue into their 'beneficial' relationship at all, but couldn't help but crave to always be near him. She sat up with only the blanket covering her red-marked chest, leaning on the headboard to steady her dizziness. "Fuck."

It's normal to have your body ache after sex. So why did she feel heavy?

And why is everything so ... watery around her?

Already on the edge of his bed, entertained with his phone and an unlit cigarette in between his lips looked up at her. "You okay there?"

Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes and she nodded yes. Another painful headache washing over. She heard him curse and then the weight of his bed was lifted off. In the middle of her pain, he walked out of the room. Leaving her. She's used to enduring it all alone in her apartment, craving for Daiki's comfort. 

But it's all a simple headache.

Another one after an uncalled overtime again.

And it was under Daiki's roof, too.

As the pain grew stronger and disabled her presence of mind she didn't notice him running in the room dressed in jersey shorts. In his hand was a bottle of water and pain killers.

The towel Momoi and Kuroko gifted him as a joke, all fluffy and pink, slung over his shoulder.

Glossy eyed and suffering unbearable pain, she mustered up the courage to look at him and lie, "I swear, I'm okay."

"Just shut up." He wrapped around the fluffy pink blanket around her shoulders to calm her down. When he was sure that she gave in to his aid, he took her hand and dropped two tablets. "Here take this."

--

When she awoke, ready for another wave of coldness to embrace her she didn't expect the room to be so  . . . inviting. Even if it was Aomine's. Dark and cold. But it made her lower her guard down. She heard his voice coming from the living room, it sounded angry. Pauses between 'I don't care' and 'She's sick'. Then she found herself lost in rest again.

It was oddly comforting.

When she dug her hands on the mattress to sit up, she was astonished to see that he dressed her. In a simple black shirt, from an event, her company hosted- where she received too much work for someone her level, and his old shorts. It was his shorts, but pyjamas to her.

When the orange lights flickered to life, she snapped her head to thank Aomine abd leave fir another walk of shame. Only to grimace in pain instead. 

"You're overworking yourself," he pointed out, hauling a tray of noodles by her side. "It's instant noodles, but you need to eat."

"Not that I'm complaining." A fit of coughs followed her snark remark. Too overwhelmed with emotions, she didn't feel that his hand rubbed her back in an attempt to comfort her.

Or when he pulled over the larger and heavier woolen blanket over her shoulders.

As awkward as it may be, or creepy, he watched her eat. Waited for her in the finish in silence. The concern on his face showed.

"You have a fever." He said as he cleaned up after her. The prescribed medicine left on the nightstand by the doctor he called in was in her hands. "And your boss called . . ." when he saw the terrified expression cross her face, he racked his mind for words of comfort. But settled on to quickly saying, "He said you can take a week off," all mushed together in a sentence.

"Then I should go home and rest."

"No," he said already by the door. "I'm taking care of you. I'm responsible. You should stay here until you feel good." He left the room with a grumble, leaving her with more overwhelming emotions swirling around in her heart.

Perplexed, his knuckles nearly turned white as it held on to the railing of his balcony. He looked below the busy streets and blew out a cloud of smoke. He was in deep thought again.

He hated it.

Really hated it.

'I'll tell her when she's better.'