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finxwrites · 1 year

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Stranger Things fic, takes place immediately after season 2. also on ao3!

Waking up was a slow, unpleasant experience. Everything ached. Other sensations filtered in more slowly—the hum of machinery, the smell of antiseptic, the scratch of bedsheets against his skin, a distant background noise of sharp voices and brisk footsteps echoing together into a flat swirl of sound. A rustle of paper to his right. The scratch of a pencil.

The more fully Steve drifted into awareness, the more his head hurt. He tried to sink back into sleep, but the effort just woke him up more. Frowning against the pain sent sharp bursts of new, different pain across his face as he aggravated all the injuries there. By the time he blearily squinted his eyes open to see who was sitting next to him, he was in a terrible mood.

He’d been expecting—he wasn’t sure who, actually. He wasn’t awake enough to hope it might be his parents, which was good since it saved him the disappointment. Nancy, maybe. He didn’t know anyone else who would care enough to sit with him for hours in a hospital. But Nance was—Nance wasn’t his girl anymore. He couldn’t expect anything from her anymore.

Whoever he’d been expecting, he was completely unprepared for the sight of a middle schooler at his bedside. Dustin was jiggling a pencil absently in one hand while he read a textbook in his lap with fierce concentration. Steve stared at him, baffled.

Dustin glanced up at him, and his face transformed completely. His grin was so huge and relieved that Steve actually got scared. Was he worse off than he’d thought? The doctors had said it was just a concussion, but what if they’d found something else while he was asleep?

Before Steve could work up the energy and coordination required to open his mouth, much less formulate a question, Dustin yelled, “Steve! You’re awake!”

That was way too loud. Steve instinctively tried to pull away from the noise, but he was too fuzzy to do more than sort of curl into his shoulders like a geriatric turtle.

“Sorry,” Dustin whispered. Somehow even his whispering was loud. “You have a concussion,” he said, bouncing in his seat.

Steve gave him his best ‘no shit, Sherlock’ glare.

“You gotta stay the night under observation,” he continued, undeterred, and then he was off: an impenetrable wall of babble as he rattled off all of Steve’s symptoms, the doctors’ proposed treatment plan (which was just painkillers and bed rest, as far as Steve could tell), the different types of concussion, warning signs to look out for in case Steve was actually going to keel over in three days, and a few miscellaneous fun facts about head trauma sprinkled in for flavor. There was no order, rhyme, or reason to the barrage of information.

It was…sweet. In a really nerdy way. Steve was still in an annoying amount of pain, but his bad mood was somehow slipping away, even though Dustin’s volume had climbed again almost immediately to something that was doing Steve’s headache no favors. Steve gave up trying to follow what Dustin was saying after a bit and just lay there blinking vaguely. He figured the kid would eventually wind down on his own.

The kid did not wind down on his own. Instead he started showing Steve the medical textbooks he’d gotten from the library, and then the notes he was compiling on head trauma generally and concussions specifically. This was followed by an impassioned indictment of the library’s five-books-only policy, and then by the thrilling tale of how he’d stolen those medical textbooks right under the librarian’s nose.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” Steve finally said. He didn’t think he’d slept more than maybe five hours. He was still bone-tired, and the sunlight slipping through the window blinds didn’t really feel like afternoon light.

Dustin, interrupted mid-word, scoffed and flapped a hand at him. “Lucas will take notes for me.”

Steve frowned, but he couldn’t find a way to ask what he really wanted to know. Why are you here? Aren’t you bored? Don’t you have anything better to do? Why do you care?

Dustin didn’t notice Steve’s confusion. He launched right back into his endless chatter, this time on the topic of hospital food and how much it sucked. Steve was too tired to interrupt him again.

Eventually a nurse came in to check on Steve. Dustin sat on the edge of his seat through the whole interaction, asking a thousand questions. The nurse glanced at Steve a few times like he might object, which was probably a good thing for, like, medical consent reasons or whatever, but Steve truly didn’t care what Dustin knew or didn’t know about Steve’s stupid concussion. He shrugged the nurse’s concern away every time.

The nurse gave Steve a fresh round of drugs, and Dustin strict instructions to let Steve rest. Dustin nodded solemnly. When the nurse left, he actually stayed silent, bending his head back over his textbook and going back to his notes. He shot Steve furtive little looks every fifteen seconds, and then smiled a little awkwardly every time at being caught.

Steve felt kind of like he should say something, but he had no idea what. Thank you, probably, but that felt somehow too blunt, too raw. So he stared at the ceiling and pretended he couldn’t feel Dustin’s eyes on him.

The drugs kicked in after some twenty minutes. Steve slipped gratefully into a dreamless sleep.

The next time Steve drifted toward consciousness, it was to a pitched argument over…pork?

He recognized the voices, but it took longer than it should have to place them. Drugs, he eventually realized. That was probably why nothing hurt.

“But porks are evil!” someone said, nonsensically. It was possible the drugs were affecting more than just his pain receptors.

“Not half-porks,” said someone else. “Or at least, they don’t have to be.”

“Okay, that’s true,” conceded the first voice. “But they’re still, like, assumed to be evil.”

“Plus they have a charisma penalty,” said a third voice, like that settled it. Dustin, Steve thought.

“I don’t see the problem,” muttered the second voice. Steve had heard that particular tone of aggrieved sarcasm a dozen times before, at family dinners with Nancy—that was Mike.

“It doesn’t work,” Dustin insisted. “He should have a charisma buff. Shut up, Mike, you know it’s true. Nancy wouldn’t have gone for him otherwise. And he’s, like, king of the jocks.”

“You gotta admit,” said someone new, “the club does look kind of like the nail bat.”

“But he’s not evil,” the first voice said stubbornly. Steve finally recognized it as Lucas. And then realized, confusedly, that they were talking about him.

And also pork, for some reason. “He doesn’t have to be evil,” Mike said exasperatedly. “Half-porks are strong. They get knocked down, they get up again. It fits.”

“I guess.” Lucas didn’t sound entirely convinced. “I still say he should be an elf. Maybe a sylvan elf, they get a bonus to strength, don’t they?”

Steve forced himself all the way awake out of sheer bafflement. “What are you gremlins talking about?” he rasped.

Four voices yelled, “Steve!” all at once. Steve groaned and regretted his choices.

“Quiet!” Dustin said, very loudly. “He got fucking whack-a-moled, guys, he’s got the mother of all headaches. We gotta be quiet.”

Steve did not have the mother of all headaches, because Steve was on the good shit and couldn’t even feel his face. He elected not to mention this, on the off chance that something might actually induce the little fuckers to pipe down.

There was a chorus of apologies. The fourth kid—not Will; with a herculean effort, he realized it had to be Max—asked, “How are you feeling?”

Steve laughed. It came out as kind of a gross snorting sound, which was how he discovered one of his nostrils was blocked. Probably with blood, he reflected sadly. The gross snorting turned into a cough, which for some reason precipitated another eruption of yelling. Small hands pressed into Steve’s shoulders, pushing him upright. Someone shoved a paper cup into his face hard enough to dent the cup and tipped water into his mouth. Steve managed, at the last minute, to close his lips around it so he wouldn’t dribble all over himself.

It hurt to swallow while his body was still trying to cough, but it was better than spewing water everywhere. And it did help—it didn’t soothe his cough so much as choke it into submission, but whatever. If it worked, it worked. And by the time the cup was empty and his coughing had given up and subsided, Steve was fully awake.

He peered around blearily. Lucas and Dustin were holding him upright, one on each side. Mike was leaning over him, paper cup in one hand, wide-eyed with worry. The worry turned to disdain the second Steve looked at him, and he pushed away with a huff to drop into a chair against the wall behind Dustin.

Max was in the chair next to him, a three-ring binder in her lap. The unformed sarcasm on Steve’s tongue died at the guilty, hunted look on her face. “I’m fine, kid,” he said instead. “I’m super high, I feel great.”

Apparently that wasn’t the right thing to say. Max just looked alarmed now. “From the drugs,” Steve clarified.

This did not seem to improve things. Dustin patted his shoulder. “That’s great, buddy.” He sounded like he had in the car on the way to the tunnels, like Steve was some kid he was baby-talking. Steve fished for a suitably scathing comeback to put him in his place.

Dustin and Lucas lowered him gently back to the bed while he was still fishing. They both looked so concerned that Steve felt bad for trying to come up with an insult, so instead he asked, “What’s a half-pork?”

They both blinked at him in bafflement for a moment, which was vaguely gratifying for some reason—reciprocity, maybe, it was only fair that Steve not be the only confused person in the room—and then Lucas’s face contorted as he tried desperately to hold back a gale of laughter. “Do you mean half-orc?” he wheezed.

This set Dustin to guffawing, and Mike followed soon after. Lucas slumped over onto Steve’s lap, shoulders shaking silently. “Pork!” Dustin squeaked, and Mike laughed harder. Even Max was giggling.

Steve looked around at them all, deeply put out. It was stupid to be hurt that a bunch of middle schoolers were laughing at him, but he was very high, and he still had no idea what the hell they were saying. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Whatever. Wake me up when I’m less drugged, I guess.”

“Sorry,” Lucas gasped. “Sorry. It’s just—”

“We’re not laughing at you, we’re just really glad you’re okay,” Dustin said, grinning like the sun. Steve swallowed around a sudden inexplicable lump in his throat.

“We are also totally laughing at him,” Max pointed out.

Steve pouted at her. Her smile shrank, overtaken by that wary, hunted look.

Before Steve could do more than stare at her in confused dismay about it, Mike said importantly, “A half-orc—not pork, oh my god—is a character race in Dungeons and Dragons. They’re huge and strong. And orcs usually fight with a club, which is basically a fantasy baseball bat.”

“We’re trying to figure out what you should play in DnD,” Dustin explained. “I say you’d be a human fighter. Maybe a cavalier.”

Steve blinked at him. He considered pointing out that he already was a human fighter, or at least he was a human who got into fights every year around Halloween. Then he considered pointing out that he was never going to play their weird nerd game anyway, so it didn’t matter. But apparently his input in this conversation was not required, because no one paused long enough to hear what he thought of any of it.

Mike snorted. “What, because he has a car?”

“I mean, yeah,” Dustin shrugged, “it’s like a modern war horse, isn’t it?”

“Nah,” Lucas said, a teasing edge to it, “I think that makes him a zoomer.”

Steve gave up. None of this was going to start making sense any time soon, not with the amount of drugs he was on and possibly just not ever. He had no idea why there were four children spouting gibberish in his hospital room, but he didn’t have the energy to even begin trying to get rid of them. He lay back and resigned himself to being babbled over.

And anyway, it was kind of nice to have some company. Even if it was a bunch of nerdy twerps who mostly ignored him.

Mike huffed. “There’s no such thing as a zoomer.”

“There is now,” Lucas said, blatant adoration suddenly all over his face as he looked over at Max. Max squirmed in her seat, but she was fighting down a smile.

“That was pretty awesome,” Dustin agreed, giggling a bit. “Come on, Mike, you gotta admit it was badass.”

Mike rolled his eyes, but he was suppressing a smile too. “It was kinda badass,” he allowed.

“It was totally badass,” Lucas corrected.

Dustin laughed. “It was bitchin’.”

Apparently that was some kind of inside joke, because all the boys laughed. Max was grinning now, small and pleased.

Her smile vanished when she saw Steve looking at her. She flinched and glanced quickly away. Steve frowned, bewildered. Did she not like him or something? But she didn’t seem mad, she just kept looking kind of hunted. Was she scared of him? Shit, did Steve remind her of Billy? Maybe she was scared of any older guy, considering what her asshole brother was like. But she hadn’t seemed scared of Steve before, not at the junkyard and not at the Byers’ house. Was it because she’d seen him fight Billy? Did she think Steve was violent like Billy, that he’d be violent with her?

Steve stared at the ceiling, sick to his stomach. The kids kept talking, but he couldn’t focus on their voices. A little girl was scared of him. And not just any girl, but one who’d taken the existence of monsters in stride, who hadn’t hesitated to make herself bait for demodogs just so El could have a better chance of reaching the gate. These kids were some of the bravest people Steve had ever met, and one of them was scared of him.

Max thought Steve was worse than monsters from the Upside Down.

Dustin jostled his shoulder. “Steve. Steve! Are you okay? Are you in pain?”

Dustin and Lucas were both leaning over him. Steve looked between them in confusion. “What? What’s wrong?”

“You’re crying,” Lucas said. He looked spooked.

“I am not!” Steve squawked. He blinked a few times and was horrified to find that his eyes were, in fact, a little watery. “Stupid goddamn drugs,” he swore. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. Ugh.”

“Should we call a nurse?” Lucas asked. “Do you need more painkillers?”

“He can’t have another dose yet!” Dustin cried before Steve could answer. “It’s too soon, it’ll fuck him up!” He jostled Steve’s shoulder again. “Are you in pain?” he demanded, sounding almost scared. “Because if you are then the drugs aren’t working and that’s a big deal, okay, we have to tell the nurse, so you gotta tell us—”

“I’m fine!” Steve swatted at his hand. “I swear, dude, you can calm down. I was just—thinking. The drugs are making me emotional, that’s all.”

Dustin’s eyes narrowed. “What are you emotional about?”

“Nothing!” Steve shoved at him ineffectually. “Jeez, let a guy be concussed in peace, won’t you?”

“We can go,” Max said in a small voice. Steve looked past Dustin and found her shutting the binder in her lap and slipping it into a backpack at her feet. Her shoulders were hunched up almost to her ears. “We shouldn’t be bugging you, not after—Come on, guys, he needs to rest.”

“Hey, no,” Steve said, regretting every drop of irritation. “That’s not what I mean. You guys can stay.”

Max’s eyes flicked up to him and then away again, almost too fast to see. “I know you don’t want a bunch of stupid kids hanging around being annoying while you’re—” She swallowed, cutting herself off.

“I don’t mind,” Steve said helplessly. He didn’t know how to convince her that he was nothing like Billy, that he’d never get mad at her like that, that she didn’t have to be afraid.

“But I—” She glanced up at him again, and this time her gaze lingered long enough for him to see the overwhelming guilt in her eyes. And Steve realized that he was an idiot.

She wasn’t afraid he’d hurt her. She was afraid he’d hate her, because her asshole brother beat his face in.

“I don’t mind,” he said again, because he couldn’t figure out how to say, I’m the one who punched him, I knew what I was getting into, better me than any of you. “Just—sit down. Tell me what the hell a zoomer is.”

The wary suspicion on Max’s face was heartbreaking. “Please?” Steve tried. It came out a little bit desperate. He had no idea what he’d do if she stormed out. Nothing, probably, he had no goddamn clue how to talk to children, but also he might cry about it because the drugs really were wreaking havoc on his emotions.

She didn’t storm out. She also didn’t do anything else. She just stood there, frowning at him in deepening uncertainty, searching his face for—a lie, maybe, or the moment when he’d turn around and say no, actually, she could go fuck herself.

“Max is a zoomer,” Lucas said into the silence. “She’s the party zoomer. She gets us where we need to go.”

He said this like it was super important and meaningful or something. Dustin nodded approval. Mike smiled a little ruefully. “Yeah,” he agreed, “party zoomer.”

Max unhunched a little at that. She looked to Steve again, raising her eyebrows a bit like, Are you sure? Steve nodded hurriedly. “Sounds cool,” he said inanely. “Party zoomer.”

Slowly, watching him the whole time, Max sank back into her chair. Steve did his best to project approval and acceptance and all that shit, but he was pretty sure it was the relief he accidentally let through when she finally sat all the way down that brought something almost like a smile to her face.

He grinned back, too wide like an idiot. He was absolutely blaming that on the drugs. She rolled her eyes and turned away, but this time she was still smiling when she did.

“I guess we could homebrew a zoomer class,” Mike said. That must have meant something good, because Lucas beamed at him. In another moment the boys were all throwing nonsense words back and forth at each other. Steve lay back, not bothering to pay attention, content to just watch their excitement.

Max chimed in from time to time, though from the boys’ reactions it was clear she had no more idea than Steve what the hell they were talking about. But she was laughing. Every once in a while she’d glance sidelong at Steve, and when he caught her at it he made sure to smile at her. The tension seeped out of her, a little more each time, until at last she was just as bright and happy as the boys.

Steve fell asleep to the sound of incomprehensible bickering. His last, wistful thought before he did was that he hadn’t felt this peaceful in months.

#stranger things #I remembered today that I've been sitting on this bc I couldn't find a good title #so I tried once more #and honestly I'm still not super into it? but the song it's from is the right vibe #and I want to hurry up and post this #this is kind of a funny one bc I read through it and I kinda wince sometimes – it's definitely not my best work #but! it does make me happy #I'd probably have to rewrite it to fix my issues with it #and I don't want to do that #not just bc that's more work than I want to do #but because I like the feel of it and I don't want to ruin that by trying to polish it into something it doesn't want to be #because honestly I like what it is #climbed a mountain and I turned around

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icewindandboringhorror · 1 year

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*screenshots the highlights of my youtube to mp3 downloads folder as if it were some fancy aesthetic spotify wrapped image or whatever*

#I don't know how spotify works I'm not sure how the images people share are actually generated but you know what I mean lol #Though I do wish the native windows music player thing kept track of like.. how many times you listened to a song or something #merely because I think it would be really funny for me since I'm very much a like 'listen to the same 3 songs on rotation for literally #4 months at a time. then eventually rotate in another few songs to replace those. never revisit any of them again' type person #And like most media I have a lot of trouble connecting with music or ascribing it the same deep meaning that most other people seem to get o #ut of it like. I think maybe it has something to do with my emotional range in general being very shallow (I am neutral 90% of the #time and even when I'm not I just don't feel things very strongly. when I do feel antyhing it's weak fleeting emotions usuually that #I don't even remember a few days from then. You know how babies don't have object permanence? It's like I don't have emotional permanence lo #l. Which is probably standard for like. severe childhood neglect situations where nobody was around for you to mirror their #emotions in early childhood or whatever usually happens when people are being raised. Like if nobody was there to encourage the development #of emotions and show what those look like then maybe your brain just doesn't develop them properly or etc. etc. ANYWAY gjhjhb)#I think maybe that has somehting to do with why it's just really hard for me to care about media of all kinds - and even when I do it's not #very deep. Also probably why I've never really been in a fandom or gone to a concert or been really into anything like that. Because people #form deep emotional connections and memories and attachments to their favorite media and I just like... don't #I can still like things!! But it's always in a more like.. intellectual kind of cognitive way if that makes sense? Like if I liked a TV show #it would never be becaise I find the message heartwarming or the characters relatable or because it made me FEEL something. It would be bec #ause the lore is cool and I like to analyze it. Or I think there's an interesting social dynamic going on which is fun to kind of pick #at the innerworkings of. And if I like a song like.. it's not because This Music Got Me Through A Hard time In My Life or because #I relate deeply to the lyrics or it makes me feel a certain way - it's usually because the overlapping of instruments or thetones that are #used interests me or there's something intruguing or cool about it to hear. Part of why I like classical or choir music is that there's oft #en so many instruments playing over each other it's like a little puzzle to try and hear each part seperately or etc. etc.#Which isn't to say that I can NEVER relate to or feel some sort of attachement or idea related to a piece of media. but just that it's not #ever very strong. like not powerful enough to be some significant motivator or pivotal aspect of my personality or etc.#BUT ANYWAY. I still can like things to a degree probably not just the same exact way as others lol.#So I rarely even listen to music that often (maybe once a week or so? I'll listen to like one song or two. but I'm not like a 'have music on #in the background playing in the house all the time' or 'listen to music while I get ready' type) but when I do it's very repetitive. I do #think it would be interesting to see the statistics then lol. I thought windows media player used to track statistics so I wonder why the #'updated' version of that on windows 10 doesnt??? Maybe bc they assume everyone is using streaming services instead? stinky #I don;t think the built in music player on my phone tracks anything either. It's more of just a file accessor or something. hmmgbb #That alone will never convince me to actually use some service to get music though lol. I don't need the statistics. yttmp3 for life babey

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noxtivagus · 1 year

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good morning!!!! i had a pretty cool dream ehe

#🌙.rambles #it's a bit dark again tho so.#tw death #my dreams r usually dark fr 😭😭 ngl i'm still a bit. shaken after that one dream i had when i napped tho :<#that was a bit dark in a too personal way i was crying in my dream n i ended up crying sometime irl too #OK BUT! i find it so funny my dreams r so dark usually #oh just. random thought first but i've probably become a lot more comfortable n free w myself again n. fiction yeah bcs #i've been distant from reality but it's alright. this is fine.#seems i can't have both at the same time :^) so much for balance but i don't want to lose myself again so i'm fine with this #i'm fine with letting some stuff falling apart (lie) i was crying abt that but AGHH FUCK NVM #i don't think i slept very well ffs i really didn't mean to ramble again like this but #it's just like how i wrote it two years ago n that's why. that's why i'm rlly such a loss as to what to do bcs two years ago was a very #hfdkflsjdflk time for me :c #it's v important n special bcs of my youth in a good way w video games n stories n writing but then.. simultaneously one of my worst years #it's always rather balanced #that said reading that story i wrote reminded me i'm the type to. oh man i'm quite the hypocrite huh #idc how cringe or embarrassing that thing i wrote was it. it really touches me still w how.. yeah the 'reader'. who's basically #a self-insert ngl but i posted it on tumblr once so YKYK #denying n hiding what they rlly desire. convincing themselves that others r satisfied that others r content; they have what they want alrdy #n so it was fine to hide in the shadows regarding. some things. as to not ruin reality with some faraway dreams that they were #undeserving of. unreachable.. like the moon like the stars. in a cold night; undeserving of warmth #longing in general. always secret. maybe that's why freedom means so much to me #nyways yeah. that feeling of 'this is enough' n more than i could ever have hoped for n #to not. fuck things up they wld hide in a way. too hesitant too afraid to reach out #i think i've known that feeling well for most of my life but just in different ways. i'm glad at least i could identify it now #for the longest time i've been meaning to rewrite that story now that i'm older to see how it wld improve but maybe i'm still afraid of the #extent of how it'll force me to really see the extent of what. nah bcs i do know deep down but when it comes to expressing it?#rather funny i probably seem like a very open n honest person w how much i share but that's just bcs there's a lot of things i'm already #comfortable w within myself?? idk how to phrase but Yeah. i hate lying or not being authentic in any way but i can't deny i'm both used to #it & good at it. but. sob i end up rambling so much in tumblr tags it's just like a diary or smth atp >.>

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lipringlrh · 3 months

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asking carlos to do the bow trend !!

wc: 550

an: kinda hate this but whatever life’s too short

"can i wrap a bow around you?" you asked Carlos whilst you were lead in bed, you peering up at him from his chest. You decided recently you were both ready to let the world know about your relationship but you decided you wanted to have fun soft-launching each other. Carlos didn't mind how you did it, he just settled with whatever would make you the happiest.

"You want to what? Wrap a bow around me?" he asked, mildly confused and thinking he probably heard you wrong.

"Yep!" you cheered. "Sit up," you grinned, tapping his chest and sitting up yourself. You needed to find your box of bows first but you were still excited.

"Why, hermosa?" he grinned, knowing he'd let you do it no matter the reason. You'd gotten up and already started looking at the bottom of the cupboard. You turned around and saw Carlos sat up, ready, but with a quizzical look on his face.

"Cause you'll look so coquette," you giggled, finding yourself funny, "and I need to start soft-launching my man."

"Coquette?" he asked and you just laughed more, not explaining yourself.

He just hummed, watching you fiddle around, trying to find the bows as fast as you could. You cheered when you found them and immediately began looking for a classic pink one, long enough to wrap around his chest.

You got back up and practically skipped over to him. "Keep your arms by your side."

He did as he was told and you began tying it around him, careful not to hurt him. You finished tying the bow and sat back to admire your work.

"Pretty," you grinned at him.

He chuckled, "is this your way of revenge for all the times I've tied you up hermosa?"

You giggled and gave him no response, too busy blushing. You took out your phone and snapped up a few pictures of him, "can't wait to show of my boyfriend."

"Wait, let me post it. I want everyone to know I'm taken," he smiled and caught your eye, "you're beautiful, cariña."

You leaned forward and hid your face in his shoulder. He kissed the top of your head in response, making you even more flustered.

You decided to retaliate and you climbed onto his lap and pressed your mouth onto his with a great desire. Your hands grabbed onto his hair as your lips captured his. You could feel the blood rush through your veins and the warmth spread all over. The kiss was slow and sensual, making you feel both giddy and weak all over.

His hands moved to your waist instinctively but you pulled away offended. The bow around his arms had moved up above his shoulders and now it was just a long circle around his neck.

You pushed it down until it was tight again and muttered a "perfect." He just grinned at you, completely in awe of you.

"Don't move your arms," you giggled against his mouth. He borderline whined for more, wanting nothing more than to grab you and kiss you properly. You just laughed and kissed him again.

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roosterforme · 2 months

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Whole Lotta Love | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You and Bradley were just friends, and perhaps that was why you trusted him so much. It wasn't his fault that you were secretly harboring a crush a mile wide. When your noisy neighbor becomes too much and you decide you need to move, Bradley helps you brainstorm a solution. But when you set your plans into action, you're surprised to find that he seems almost jealous.

Warnings: Adult language, angst, fluff, drinking, mentions of masturbation

Length: 8600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @mak-32

"I need to move."

Bradley looked up at your annoyed expression as you dropped your lunch tray a little violently onto the cafeteria table across from him with a clatter. The top piece of bread slid off your sandwich as you sat down with a pout.

"Like to a new apartment?" he asked, reaching over to straighten out your silverware and napkin. "Didn't we just help you move a few months ago, Sparrow?"

For some reason that set you off as your clenched fist bumped the edge of the tray, messing everything up again. "Yes, to a new apartment, Rooster! And yes, I just moved six months ago, but I can't take another day of this shit."

"What's wrong?" Jake asked where he was inhaling his food right next to you like he had a vendetta against it.

You sighed, and the sound was so soft and sweet compared to your frustrated expression, Bradley almost laughed. "The guy who lives above me is an aspiring wedding DJ. Do you have any idea what that means for my sleep schedule?"

"Oh shit," Javy groaned from your other side. "Are you getting Cupid Shuffle all night long?"

"Coyote," you whined, "he makes his own remixes! At four in the morning! When I asked him to stop, he said he was perfecting his artform, but that he'd turn the volume down a smidge. Meanwhile, I moved into my current apartment, because my old neighbors were hosting woodworking retreats in their living room!"

Now Bradley really was laughing. "You need a break? You can come sleep over at my place tonight."

You were finally smiling now as you said, "Thanks Rooster, but I've seen the wrong side of your couch before. I had a long, long night in your living room after the holiday party."

"So don't get drunk first this time," he replied easily, remembering that night vividly. You let him carry you into his house from his Bronco while you whispered the lyrics to Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin really slowly to him. It was funny and somehow a little hot at the same time. He liked it a little too much. "Or you can just sleep in my bed."

Your eyes went a little wide. "With you?"

"Of course not," he replied quickly, hoping he wasn't blushing. "We're just friends. I could take the couch for one night so you can have a break. If you want."

You and he really were just friends. You were friends with all the guys. They all loved you and your humor, and you were a hell of a good WSO. Bradley didn't even fly with a backseater, but he always liked getting paired with you and Omaha. You had an ease about you, and it even translated to the way you took a massive bite out of your sandwich after you said, "Maybe I'll just sneak in and break DJ Insomnia's turntables."

Then you smiled at Bradley while you chewed your food, and Javy and Jake started to make up a song about DJ Insomnia. You laughed when they tried to rhyme 'slumber' with 'nightmare', but you were still looking at Bradley as if he was in on some inside joke with you. Your eyes twinkled when he nudged your leg with his boot underneath the table.

"Hey, I'll be more than happy to help you move again, Sparrow, but I think you ought to at least consider having me over around three in the morning with my keyboard. I'll bring these two idiots with me as well, and we can all sing at the top of our lungs until your neighbor moves out."

You tipped your head back and laughed. "Oh, Rooster. You're the sweetest, but he'd probably actually enjoy that."

Now Bradley was definitely blushing as he looked down at his lunch, and he wasn't really sure why.

------------------------

You gathered your things together for the night as soon as you heard your neighbor playing the Electric Slide. If he was already starting at seven o'clock, you needed to get out now. You shoved clean underwear and some random clothing into your backpack before you stopped in the bathroom and grabbed the essentials. Bradley's couch had never sounded better to you in your life, but if he felt like offering up his bed, then even better. Hell, you'd curl up in there with him at this point. What difference did it make? It wasn't like anything physical was ever going to happen.

He was one of the boys, and you loved them all. It wasn't Bradley's fault that his sun kissed skin and wavy hair were kind of your thing. If they were attached to another man, you'd probably have made a move, but he was your friend. Sure, you'd thought about it before, when you were alone in bed and it was very, very late. He was attractive and hilarious, and you were only human. But some things were sacred.

"Yeah, like peace and quiet," you growled as you stomped down your hallway. You grabbed your keys and headed out, zipping along to Bradley's house in record time. You were obsessed with his place which was complete with flower boxes underneath the front windows and a pink front door that he never seemed to get around to repainting even though he mentioned it all the time.

You hauled yourself up to his porch with your half zipped backpack and bad attitude and pounded on his door. You had a spare key somewhere in the bottom of your purse, but you didn't feel like digging for it. When he didn't answer, you pounded again, a little harder this time.

"Yeah?" he asked, his tone gruff as the door flew open. "Sparrow," he muttered, his voice much softer with your call sign attached to it. "Hey."

But you didn't register too much besides the fact that he was standing there in nothing but a pair of snug boxer briefs with damp hair and skin that smelled delicious just inches away from you. "Hi," you said, sounding as mesmerized as you felt. Golden tan. Sparse chest hair. Perfectly groomed mustache. You wanted to lick him. Where on earth did that urge come from? You never thought about dragging your tongue along his chest and neck and all the way up to his lips. Except that you had... very, very late at night.

Fuck.

It wouldn't be worth messing things up. You forced your gaze up to his brown eyes. "I'm here for our sleepover," you said with as much normalcy as you could muster, but the response you got was Bradley's cheeks turning pink as he leaned away from the doorway so you could step inside. Then you came to a stop and looked at him again. He smelled really good. Like maybe he was wearing cologne. "Oh. Were you heading out? Do you have a date?"

His cheeks grew redder. "Um, no. Not at all. Of course not."

His answer sent a little wave of relief through your body. "Good." You winced at your response as you continued to his couch and set your bag down. "I mean, do you want to order a pizza or something?"

He ran his fingers through his hair and nodded. "Yeah. Sure. Just let me get dressed. I'll be right back out."

--------------------------

You actually came over. With your backpack full of your stuff. Bradley wasn't expecting you to take him up on his offer, and now he was doubly flustered; he actually did plan a last minute date, and he just jerked off in the shower while thinking about you.

"Oh fuck," he groaned as he pulled on a pair of jeans. He didn't start off thinking about you. It just kind of happened. At first, he was thinking about a faceless girl sitting on his lap with her hand in his underwear, and then suddenly she did have a face. Your face. And then she had your voice. And then he pictured the two of you on his actual couch. And it was definitely you giving him a handjob in his shower fantasy, and he came all over the tile wall like it was your face. He was lucky you didn't let yourself in with your spare key in time to hear him moaning your name.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asked his reflection in the bedroom mirror. He looked wild. Slightly deranged. His pupils were huge, and his cheeks were hot pink. How the hell was he supposed to eat pizza with you while he was thinking about you on his lap?

But the fact that he wanted nothing more than to eat pizza and drink beers with you solidified the fact that he needed to cancel his date with Erin. He was so stupid for doing this. She was a viable option for someone to date. You were not. But he was apparently going to torture himself anyway as he texted her Hey, sorry this is last minute, but I need to reschedule.

He didn't wait for a response as he made his way back to his living room where you had already cracked open a can of beer from the refrigerator and made yourself at home on the couch. You were wearing what you always wore when you didn't have on a flight suit, just yoga pants and a baggy tee shirt. It shouldn't have been cute, but it was.

You smiled up at him as you nudged the unopened can of beer on the coffee table with your blue painted toenail. "I got you one."

He poked your foot with his finger and picked up the beer as he said, "Yeah, it's the least you could do since you helped yourself to my fridge."

When he dropped down onto the couch next to you, his weight on the cushions had you colliding into him. "Sorry," you murmured, your hand coming to rest on his abs as you pushed yourself back into place like it was nothing. Meanwhile, he broke out in a nervous sweat. "What do you want to watch?"

"Doesn't matter," he replied, handing you the remote. Then he grinned and said, "Or we could skip the TV, and I could get my keyboard out and play Cupid Shuffle for you. Maybe try my hand at a remix." You tipped your head back and pretended to cry before you started laughing. "What's the matter? I'm sure I'll sound better than your neighbor. Give it a chance, Sparrow," he teased.

You turned to face him on the couch, still laughing with your beer can resting against his bicep. "First of all, no. Please. No. Absolutely not. Second, has anyone ever told you how adorable it is that you have a keyboard that you actually play?"

"I tell myself that all the time," he replied, trying hard not to smile as you laughed. "I say, 'Bradley, you're adorable. I think it's so cool that you want to relive your piano lessons from middle school. Maybe you should get braces again, too.'"

You were cackling now as you gasped, "Stop it."

He sipped his beer and shook his head. "Of course nobody has ever said my keyboard is adorable. It's the nerdiest thing a guy in his thirties could possibly own, and only like five people in total know about it."

With tears in your eyes, you sucked in a deep breath. "I'm so happy I'm one of those five people."

"Yeah, well, keep it to yourself," he muttered with a smile as he took the remote back and turned on the Padres game. You were still giggling softly as you settled in next to him again. "You want pizza?" he asked.

"I've never said no to pizza," you replied easily, your thigh rubbing gently against his.

"My treat."

"You always say it's your treat. I'll get it this time."

"Nah, you've got to save up your money so you can move out of your apartment, remember?" he asked as he placed the order on his phone.

"How could I forget?" you moaned. "Your house is so nice, I wish I could evict you and move in here."

He set his phone aside and kicked his feet up onto his coffee table. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. "That would be a pretty rude thing to do to the guy who always buys your pizza."

Your side eye was impeccable as you said, "It's not like you'd be destitute. I'd let you live with DJ Insomnia. Now I just need a way to make money fast."

Bradley shook his head as the baseball game went to a commercial. "There's no such thing, Sparrow. Nothing legal anyway, and Uncle Sam pays your salary."

You were tapping your beer can with your finger and biting your lip gently, and Bradley's mind drifted back to his shower fantasy. You hummed softly, and he could practically feel the weight of your body settling onto his lap. That's what he wanted. You and he could finish this discussion with you straddling his thighs and his tongue in your mouth.

He should have gone out with Erin. He should have just admitted that he had a date and told you that you could hang out here while he was gone, because now he was getting his hopes up as your leg bumped his again. He knew he was blushing when he looked at you, so he turned back to the TV just in time for the beginning of a Hooters commercial.

"Wow," you mused with a little snicker as you gestured toward the parade of tits with your beer can. "That really got your attention."

Bradley rolled his eyes. "No, it didn't."

"Seriously? That's a lot of boobs, Rooster. You think we should contact the ad agency and tell them they should feature a few more?"

He turned and looked at you, and you started cracking up again. "I think it was actually just the right amount of boobs," he said, trying really hard not to look at your chest.

You forced your face into a neutral expression. "Do you like to go to Hooters?"

Bradley groaned and tried to stand up but you reached for his arm and tugged him closer to you instead. "Why do you think it's fun to pick on me?"

"I'm not really sure, but it's great," you replied. "Didn't all the guys go to Hooters for Jake's birthday?"

"Yeah," he replied with a laugh. "Jake got completely fucking wasted and proposed to our waitress. Then he tried to write his number on a napkin for her, but it looked like hieroglyphics. He even tried to follow her into the kitchen at one point, and Javy had to go get him. At least he left her a two hundred dollar tip for being so annoying."

You gaped at him and set your empty beer can on the coffee table. "Two hundred bucks? Oh my god, do you realize how fast I could buy my own place with guys like Jake around if I worked at Hooters?"

Bradley sat up a little straighter and watched as your eyes lit up while you watched the end of the commercial before the Padres game came on again. "You wouldn't want guys... fussing over you like that, would you?"

You kind of shrugged and said, "I can handle myself."

"That's not what I meant. I just-" He cut himself off. What was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to tell you he was already jealous just thinking about it? He definitely couldn't admit that. So instead he said, "Your boobs are too good for Hooters. You should keep them in your flight suit."

Now you were looking down at your body and running your hands up your belly to your chest, and Bradley was entranced as he watched you squeeze yourself through your tee shirt like it didn't even matter if he was there or not. You must have trusted him implicitly as you looked at him with sad eyes and said, "You're probably right. Guys know best about this kind of thing, and flight suits are a catch-all for making everyone's body look identical. Maybe it's better to just keep blending in."

He felt like a jerk, because that's not what he meant at all. He wanted to tell you that you were beautiful and that you'd probably make enough money in two weeks to buy the house of your dreams in those orange booty shorts and the tiny tops, but he couldn't. He wanted to kiss that little pout from your lips, but he wouldn't. Instead he said, "Let's keep brainstorming?"

"Yeah, thanks," you whispered, letting your lips brush against his cheek, and Bradley jumped about a mile into the air when there was a knock at the front door.

-------------------------

You and Bradley had given up on the Padres game. Now you were turned so you were facing each other with pizza and paper plates and more cans of beer. "Okay, you hear how quiet your house is? You hear how nobody is annoying the shit out of you right now? No turntables or amplifiers anywhere?"

"Yeah," he said with a laugh. His cheeks had been perpetually pink all night, and it was really distracting. You had to keep reminding yourself that he thought you'd look better in your shapeless flight suit than in a Hooters uniform, and it kind of broke your heart every single time. But that's what you needed.

You forced a smile as you said, "I want this kind of peace in my life. So give me your best brainstorming ideas for how I can make some more money. Go."

"What about cage fighting?" he asked before he took an enormous bite of pizza.

"Cage fighting?" you balked. "Maybe you don't think much of my face, but I happen to like it the way it is!"

His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped open. "I do like your face, Sparrow. I was just joking."

He still looked concerned as you waved him off and asked, "What if I started bartending again? Like I did in college?"

Bradley shrugged. "You'll get just as many guys creeping on you at a bar."

You nibbled on your pizza crust and thought about your options. "What if it's the right kind of bar though? One with bouncers and security guards and everything, and oh my god! I've got it!"

"What?"

You watched him fold another slice of pizza in half and devour it as you said, "The Beauty Bar."

He froze with his mouth full and started shaking his head. "No," he said as soon as he swallowed. "That's like Hooters, but the girls dance. On the bar."

"Exactly," you told him, letting your hand rest on his knee. "Bigger tips and buffer security guards. Just think about it, Rooster. I could play one of the characters and have my own unique outfit. It's mostly just bartending, but the breaks for dancing would be so fun."

He looked a little constipated, and you almost laughed when he asked, "What kind of outfit?"

You tried to remember the girls from the only time you'd been there. "I think there was a cowgirl and a schoolgirl? Or like a dirty librarian?"

Bradley leaned a little closer to you and said, "Maybe you should reconsider the cage fighting. I could get you like a hockey mask to wear?" He ran his fingertip gently down the side of your face. "You know, to keep you safe?"

"I wouldn't last one round," you told him with a grin. "Besides, The Beauty Bar is mostly filled with bachelorette parties and girls having a fun night out. I think I'll call them or stop by tomorrow and see what they say."

Bradley dropped his hand from your face and muttered, "I'll keep brainstorming. You feel like watching a movie?"

"Sure," you told him as you stretched. "You pick since you paid for the pizza."

A few seconds later, your favorite movie was queued up on the TV, and you tried to get him to look at you, but he was actively avoiding doing so as he tried not to smile. You were halfway on his lap with your hands on his cheeks when he finally met your eyes. "Thanks, Bradley. For the pizza and for the movie and the sleepover and everything."

"You're welcome," he whispered softly. You thought about how good it would feel to kiss him, but you ended up laying on a pillow that was propped against his thigh instead. Less than halfway into the movie, you were sound asleep.

----------------------

Bradley didn't want to move. You were sound asleep with your cheek pressed to his thigh, and a tiny little spot of drool darkened the fabric of his jeans next to your lips. You had pushed the pillow to the floor, and you had reached for his hand while you dozed.

He'd had a full blown crush on you for a while now. It was useless to try to deny it. But you had him in the friend zone along with Javy and Jake and all the rest of the guys, and he was sure that if he tried to level up, you'd smash him right back down where he belonged.

You were so cute, finally getting the sleep you deserved. Clearly you trusted him, which made him feel important, but he wanted to be important to you in every way.

When he tried to slide off the couch, you snuggled against him harder. When he tried to wake you up, you moaned and snoozed on. He got himself awkwardly into position to pick you up, and he hoisted you into his arms. Your hand rested on his chest, and your lips met his neck as you mumbled, "I'm sleepy."

"I know you are, Honey." The pet name just slipped out, but you didn't complain as he stood there in his living room trying to stave off an erection as you snuggled against him. "I'm taking you to my bed. You'll be more comfortable."

"M'kay."

Then he was treated to your half asleep rendition of Whole Lotta Love where most of the lyrics were wrong and it was pretty much completely off key. But you were singing it right next to his ear, and once again, he liked it more than he should. When he set you down on his bed, you immediately burrowed under the blankets like you slept in his room all the time, and he watched you curl up on your side.

Your eyes were closed as you whispered, "Aren't you getting in?"

He wanted to. He knew the feel of your body well enough to know that he'd love snuggling with you all night. But this friendship meant something to him. "Nah, I'll be out on the couch if you need me."

You didn't respond verbally, but you did nod, and Bradley kissed your temple. Then he grabbed a blanket from his closet and left you alone. His thoughts were a complete mess as he stepped out of his jeans and tossed them on the coffee table. He stretched out on his couch as much as he could, but then he thought about you wearing a Hooters uniform.

"Don't do it," he warned himself, but it was too fucking late. The little orange shorts and the tiny white shirts had been nice on the other girls, sure. But on you'd, they would be lethal for him.

The idea of you dressed as a cowgirl doing a little dance routine on a sticky bartop wasn't much better. Guys would be throwing tip money at you and begging you to make their drinks. They would all want to chat you up and try to touch you. Bradley would go through the roof if one of them did. But if this is what you wanted to do and it was going to help you reach your goal, then he was going to have to be supportive, even if it killed him.

After barely sleeping most of the night, Bradley was finally dozing when you walked out into the living room the next morning. His blanket ended up on the floor at some point, but you came right over to him where he was overflowing from the couch in just his undershirt and boxer briefs.

"You could have slept in your bed, too," you whispered, brushing your fingers through his hair. "You're too big for the couch."

He noted that you were wearing your backpack as he melted into your touch. "Are you leaving? I thought we could grab breakfast."

Now you were smiling. "I'm gonna run. I'm planning to stop at The Beauty Bar later and see if they're hiring any new bartenders. Thanks for everything."

With that, you kissed his forehead, and Bradley's eyes closed as soon as you went prancing out his front door into the sunlight. "I'll keep brainstorming," he groaned.

----------------------------

Your interview at the bar consisted of making three drinks and picking out a 'uniform' to wear. Some of the clothing was so tiny, it made the Hooters girls look modest by comparison. But they assured you that you'd love working there, so you accepted the position and took your new clothing home.

The first time you put on the black leather skirt that zipped all the way up the front along with the cropped shirt, you took it back off immediately. Could you mix cocktails in the outfit? Sure. Could you dance on the top of the bar for three minutes straight three times per night? Maybe not. But then you remembered that they told you some girls made up to five hundred bucks per shift. And then DJ Insomnia started on a remix of the Macarena right above you.

So you put the outfit back on again and decided that yes, you could do this. And maybe it would help to get a guy's perspective on the way you looked and your dance moves. You wanted to ask Bradley, but you didn't think you could handle the way he'd laugh about this. But there was something about the way he'd been concerned about you when you slept over at his place on Friday night. You almost felt protected. Cared for. God, you were already jealous of the woman he would eventually fall for, because she would be on the receiving end of all of his warm attention. And she'd get to live in that house with him. And he'd actually sleep in his bed with her, unlike the couch when you were there.

You rolled your eyes in the mirror and added some makeup to your face. This was so unlike you, falling for one of your friends. But you were tired of trying to fight it. And you still trusted his opinions. So you called him.

"Sparrow," he crooned when he answered your call.

"Rooster," you replied in your most matter of fact tone. "I was wondering if you could stop by for a few minutes and help me with something?"

"Right now?" he asked immediately.

You bit your lip before swiping some lipstick on while you said, "Whenever you have a chance."

"I'll be there soon."

He didn't let you down. He never did. Twenty minutes later, there were three taps on your apartment door, and then he was letting himself inside with the spare key you gave him months ago.

"Sparrow, it's me," he called out over the remix of Footloose. "Jesus. You weren't kidding. Your neighbor plays music like this all the time?"

"Yes," you shouted from your bedroom. "Constantly."

"I'm going to go up and have a little chat with him."

You were putting the finishing touches on your makeup as you said, "Don't bother. I've tried so many times. All he's done is lower the volume the slightest bit."

Bradley's sarcastic laugh from your living room made you smile. "I'm sure I can get him to do whatever I say."

That was undoubtedly the truth. You also didn't want him to get arrested. When you ran out to see him, you had forgotten what you were wearing as you threw your arms around his neck and hugged him.

Bradley's eyes were wide, and as soon as his hands settled on your bare waist, he pulled them right off again. "Holy shit. What the fuck is this?"

"Oh," you gasped, taking a nervous step away from him. "It's kind of my uniform. For my new bartending gig?" His cheeks were pink, his lips were parted, and he was gaping at you as he dragged his gaze up and down your body. "Is it bad?"

"Holy shit," he repeated. And then he said it one more time before he met your eyes. "Do you think it's bad?"

You winced and groaned. "I wasn't sure. But you're a guy. If you think it's awful, then I certainly don't want to wear it to my second job." He let out a strangled sound, and you started to turn back to your bedroom. "I'll stick to my flight suits."

You felt his fingers lace with yours before you heard his strained voice. "It's not bad, Sparrow. It's really fucking hot." You turned and looked at him, annoyed that you were feeling so vulnerable. He swallowed hard before he added, "You always look good."

He tugged you a little closer to him, and a smile found your lips. "I think I get it. It's hard to be objective when you're friends with someone. You'd probably like the outfit better on someone else."

Somehow his eyes went wider. "I really don't think that's it at all, actually," he whispered. Then DJ Insomnia started playing a remix that actually sounded good for once, and you tugged Bradley toward your couch with your linked fingers.

"Here, watch me dance real quick, and then we can just hang out."

"Okay," he grunted, taking a seat.

"Just pretend I'm someone else," you told him as you ran one hand down your side until your palm settled on your hip. You started to turn in a slow circle as you moved your hips to the music that made its way to your living room.

"I don't really want to do that."

You looked back at Bradley over your shoulder and caught him staring at your butt. "You don't?"

He shook his head slowly as you turned to face him, still dancing. "Hell no," he whispered, watching your face now. He brought his hand up to cover his mouth, and his dark gaze looked almost greedy, but he sat there and watched you dance, barely moving a muscle until you stopped along with the music.

"Well? What do you think?" you asked, holding your hands out to your sides.

He cleared his throat. "I think it's a good thing you don't have a boyfriend, because he'd already be jealous as fuck."

------------------------

You looked exhausted every single day now. Bradley started to bring you extra coffee from his own kitchen to try to combat your near constant yawning and fatigue each morning. You weren't just battling through sleepless nights at your apartment with DJ Insomnia, you were also working all day as a WSO and frequently working late into the night at the bar.

"I'm a little worried about you," he murmured one morning as you sipped the coffee he made. "You're working too hard, Sparrow." He didn't want to put voice to the way he felt about your bartending shifts. He made it a point not to stop by and see you there even though you'd asked him to. But he desperately wished you would quit. Every time he thought about you in your little costume with your red, pouty lips, he got more jealous inside. He could just imagine dozens, maybe hundreds of pairs of eyes on you, and he didn't like the way he wanted to be the only one treated to that sight.

"I'm fine," you replied softly. "I've already made thousands in tip money, and it's only been two weeks." You tried to smile up at him, but it didn't quite meet your eyes. "I mean, it's not the best scenario, because sometimes the patrons get a little rowdy. But it's not the worst thing. I'll just keep it up for a few months or until I get deployed."

Bradley grunted. "Explain to me exactly how rowdy they get."

Now you were sipping your coffee and staring at the patches on his flight suit instead of looking at his face. "Well, nobody is supposed to touch us. But sometimes guys do try it. Especially when we're dancing. The bouncers are great and all, but they can only get over there so quickly."

Bradley leaned down until you were looking him in the eye. He knew he was no better than some random asshole at the bar. He was probably worse since he thought about you dancing for him every time he took a shower. But he couldn't stand how apprehensive you looked when you talked about that place. You never looked like that when you were alone with him.

"I think you should quit," he told you blandly.

"It's not that bad," you replied. "Maybe I'm not doing a good job of explaining it. Come visit one night, and I'll buy you a drink."

"Sparrow, literally the last thing I want to do is witness every drunk asshole at the bar trying to look up your skirt."

You scoffed. "I wear little booty shorts underneath it!"

He closed his eyes and grunted, "I could have lived without that visual." It would just add to his shower time fodder.

"Oh! You should come on Friday night," you said, patting him on the chest. "I'll invite all the guys! There are drink specials. Hey, Javy!"

You wandered away, and soon Bradley's fate was sealed. Javy, Jake, Mickey, Reuben and Bob were all planning on going to The Beauty Bar for happy hour, and he was expected to be there, too. It wasn't like it was your fault he was falling for you, so he was just going to have to go and be supportive. He'd make sure all the guys left you massive tips, too.

You were still exhausted on Friday morning, and Bradley didn't like the way you were yawning as you loaded into your jet. You were quieter now at work than you usually were, and he was tempted to tell you to start sleeping at his place to try to cut out some of your stress. Having you close by sounded good to him as well.

Maybe he'd hang out at your bar all night and take you home with him. He could carry you to his bed before retiring to the couch and pretending he was also in his bed. Maybe you would even serenade him with the song. You'd get a good night's sleep and then this never ending friendship loop would start all over again.

If he could think of a way to break the loop and turn it into a straight line that led to a relationship with you, he'd take it. That was probably the type of brainstorming he should be working on at this point since you were already working at the bar now. He was still trying to think of a way to tell you how he really felt without destroying the friendship as he drove his Bronco across the city to the extremely popular Beauty Bar.

"You're kidding," he muttered. There was a line to get inside, and he told you he'd be here by eight o'clock when the dancing started.

"Holy shit," Jake said as he and Javy headed up the sidewalk and got in line with him. "I guess there's no shortage of guys who want to look at Sparrow."

Javy nodded in agreement. "I mean, I don't really want to look at Sparrow, but I'll gladly take all the other girls."

That was literally the exact opposite of Bradley's thinking. He couldn't give a shit who else was working, his eyes would find you and stay there all night. Whether you were serving drinks, chatting with patrons or dancing, he'd be focused on nothing but you.

The guys all got their driver's licenses out, and the bouncer muttered, "Don't want any trouble from the three of you," as he checked them.

Shit, what the hell kind of place was this if you got warned at the door on your way in? But when he walked inside and saw how crowded it was along with the two random girls doing a line dance along the bar, he could kind of understand. It was mostly packed with guys, and Reuben, Mickey and Bob were waving them over. Bradley moved slowly through the crowd, and then he found you in your cute little outfit handing someone a beer, and his heart stopped.

Your smile looked like it was pasted on, but once you saw Bradley, your whole face lit up. You waved to him as you bounced up and down behind the bar, clearly excited that he was here. He started throwing his elbows and shoulders around to get to you, passing all of the other guys in the process.

"Rooster!" you called out over the music when he got closer. The two girls danced across the bar between you and him, but his focus didn't waver at all as he matched your smile. "Do you want a drink?"

He shrugged and said, "I kind of just wanted to see you."

"Oh," you replied, looking pleased enough that Bradley decided to push the boundary just a little bit.

"I don't really like it here, actually. If at any time you feel like quitting your job, I'll take you right to my place and let you sleep in peace and quiet again."

You poured a beer and handed it to him. "You don't like the girls?" you asked, glancing at the boots as they went by again.

"Not those ones."

You looked him dead in the eye and asked, "Which ones then?"

His fingers flexed on his pint of beer as someone tried to jostle him out of the way to get closer, but he didn't look away from you as he said, "Come on, Sparrow." His voice was a little rough, and now you looked confused. He would do it. He'd ruin everything just so you knew. But he didn't want you to feel bad for him.

Then someone called your first name, and you and he both turned to see an older woman holding up both hands. "I'm on in ten," you told him, reaching out to touch his fingers where they rested on the bar. "Let me take a few more drink orders before I have to dance."

"Right," he said. It was better that you didn't know. You were trying to make some money here, and he was already messing it up by talking to you for too long. "I'll catch you later."

He wandered off in the direction of the rest of the guys. "Yo, that blonde is so hot, and she made my drink perfectly," Mickey was saying as he drank something that looked fruity and sweet.

"I'm an equal opportunity aviator tonight," Jake drawled. "I see a girl in a little outfit, she gets my phone number."

"You're delusional is what you are," Bradley told him as he sipped his beer. "All of you better leave Sparrow a massive tip. Seriously. I'm not kidding."

He listened to the guys chat as he turned back toward the bar to check on you. It was almost time for you to dance, and his stomach was churning with anticipation and anxiety. He'd been dying to see you move like that again, but he could do without the memory of everyone else knowing how you looked when you shook your hips.

Then you broke away from some guy who looked like a real tool who was reaching for you across the bar. You backed up and bumped into the mini fridge behind you and winced, and Bradley took a few steps in your direction. He memorized what that guy was wearing and what he looked like, just in case.

But now it was time for you to dance, so at least you were able to step away from him. One of the cowgirls was helping you up onto the bar, and the crowd started cheering. The opening notes to Whole Lotta Love started playing, and Bradley's arms prickled with goosebumps as you ran your hand down to your waist and shook your hips from side to side. You were moving just like you had in your living room, but all he could think about were the times you sang this song to him. He wanted all of it to be just for him. He wanted to touch you the way you were touching yourself. He wanted to taste the sweat that glistened on your neck.

His jealousy flared, burning bright inside of him as he watched everyone crowd the bar as you strutted along with a smile on your face. And once again your smile brightened when you found him, and then you mouthed the lyrics, 'Way down inside, honey you need it. I'm gonna give you my love. I'm gonna give you my love.' You mouthed the words to him.

Bradley grunted. His body felt like it was pulled taut like a rubber band, about to snap. You stopped at the end of the bar and did a little twirl as the crowd sang along to the song, but you kept your eyes on him. Your lips perfectly formed every word, and he'd never forget this feeling for the rest of his life.

Then you turned away from him, and he instantly missed the way you were subtly giving him your attention. He moved forward a little bit through the crowd, wanting to get closer to you. When you spun around again, he saw you looking for him, and your smile wavered.

"Sparrow!" he called out, and when you found him again, you laughed. And he laughed, too. But this must have been the breaking point in the evening, because Bradley got hit in the shoulder as a fight broke out to his right. Everyone got shoved forward, and a random glass of beer hit the bar. You tried to jump out of the way as your feet got soaked, and then your boss started yelling at you to keep dancing. Now when you looked at Bradley, you were no longer smiling.

He called your first name this time as you tried to step over the wet part of the bar and continue to the other end. Bradley saw him before you did. That asshole guy was back, and he smiled as he looked up your skirt. Bradley fleetingly remembered you told him you wore shorts under your skirt, and he really hoped you had them on tonight. But that wasn't the end of it, because now he was reaching out for your foot.

"What the fuck?" Bradley shouted, handing his glass to a stranger as he tried to get to you. With that asshole's hand firmly wrapped around your ankle, you started to waver. You were nine feet up in the air, surrounded by glass bottles, and he knew he was closer to you than any of the bouncers.

"Stop it!" you shouted above the music as you tried to pull yourself free, but that guy was unrelenting. You took one more awkward step before your body turned sideways. You were about to fall off the bar. Bradley fought his way forward as you tried to correct yourself, but it was too late, now it looked like you were going to land on your wrist on the bar, and probably break a bone.

Bradley lunged just in time, and thankfully you saw him. You trusted him, and right now he could see that fact in your eyes. You let yourself fall forward into the crowd. Into his open arms.

"Oh my god, Bradley!" you gasped as your arms wound around his neck and legs wrapped around his waist, clinging to him. You were shaking.

"I've got you," he promised as the song played on. He wanted to throw that guy up against the wall, but he was too content holding you to him as you buried your face against his neck. Letting go of you wasn't really an option. He wrapped one big hand around your thigh while the other squeezed your waist. "I have you, Sparrow."

Jake and Javy were there now, and Bradley nodded to the guy who grabbed you. He'd let them take care of it, because now your lips were brushing his ear. "That was terrifying," you whispered, and someone finally changed the song while another dancer climbed onto the bar.

Bradley made the decision to carry you outside into the cool night, walking slowly down the block where it was quieter as you caught your breath. "Are you okay now?" he asked softly.

You nodded against him, and when he adjusted you in his arms, you quickly whispered, "Please don't put me down yet."

"I won't," he promised before pressing his lips to your collarbone. You whimpered, and he couldn't help it. He said, "I don't ever want to put you down. And for the record, I don't want you to dance here anymore either. I never wanted you to."

You lifted your head away from him, and Bradley practically melted as your fingers tugged through the hair at the back of his head. Your lips were pouty, and your eyes were trusting as you asked, "You never wanted me to?"

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

He knew he had to say it and risk ruining everything, because pretending like this friendship with you was enough was actually hurting him now. He looked at your pretty face as he said, "Because I'm in love with you. And I'm selfish and jealous, and I don't want a bunch of other guys watching you dance around in this little outfit. Dancing around to my song."

"Bradley." You leaned closer, and you didn't stop until your lips were on his. This was better than he thought it could be, already so comfortable around you. Already addicted to your voice and the way you felt in his arms. Your fingers tightened in his hair as you kissed him, parting his lips with yours until you were tasting him. When you pulled away with a little moan, you whispered his name again while you ran your thumb along his mustache.

"Why did you dance to that song?" he demanded gently.

You pressed another kiss to his mouth before you said, "It made it less scary to get up on the bar when I was listening to a song that reminds me of you."

"Why?" he demanded again.

Then you very easily and simply said, "Because I'm in love with you, too."

"Honey," he sighed against your lips, smiling this time as you slowly unwrapped your legs and slid down the front of his body. Once you were standing on your own, Bradley let his hands fall to your hips, and you wiggled yourself snug against his body.

You felt just like his shower fantasies and all of his other fantasies, if he was being honest with himself. He thought about you all the time. You nibbled on his lips and dragged your fingers through his hair until he was frankly afraid he was going to get hard in his jeans right here on the sidewalk. He pried his lips from yours, making you pout, and he chuckled as he said, "Sparrow, you're killing me."

Your pout grew more pronounced as you said, "I want you to call me Honey again."

His smile must look ridiculous now as he said, "Honey."

"That's better," you said as your lips curled into a grin. "Let's get out of here."

"Do you think you should go back inside first?" he asked, hoping you'd just ditch the whole thing with him, but you nodded in response.

"Yeah, good idea. I'll go quit in person," you said, taking his hand in yours.

He stood his ground in response, and you weren't able to move him, but one tug on your hand and you were headed right back to his arms. "Excellent. As soon as you do that, we can talk about how we aren't friends anymore."

"We're not?" you asked, and as soon as that pout started returning, Bradley leaned down and kissed you.

"Hell no," he whispered against your lips. "You're gonna be my girlfriend. And I'll be your boyfriend. And I'm going to take you back to my house. And this time when I carry you to bed, I'm going to stay there with you all night. If that's cool."

"It's so cool," you promised him, and this time when you tugged on his hand, he followed you back up the sidewalk. "It's almost as cool as a man in his thirties who has a keyboard."

----------------------------

You were honestly impressed by the way the other guys weren't phased at all. Maybe it was obvious that you and Bradley belonged together, but none of them found it surprising that you were suddenly a couple. It really wasn't sudden at all in your mind though. There was a slow build of trust and appreciation over time that turned physical as soon as Bradley admitted he was in love with you. And four months later, none of it had let up. In fact, you couldn't get enough, and neither could he.

"That's it?" he asked, pointing to the single box left in your trunk.

"That's it," you told him as you picked it up. And then he picked you up and carried you toward his house while you laughed. You passed the planter boxes full of flowers and went through the pink door.

"Then it's official. You live here now. Welcome home, Honey."

"Oh please," you replied as he set you down. "I've been unofficially living here for months."

"All thanks to DJ Insomnia," he whispered, leaning down and placing an absolutely filthy kiss on your lips.

You moaned. "I owe him so much."

Bradley shrugged and said, "I think we would have eventually arrived at the same conclusion regardless."

"What conclusion would that be?"

"That you're in love with me."

You wanted to deny it, but you couldn't. "Help me unpack the rest of my clothes and shoes so we can explore another one of your shower fantasies."

Bradley moaned and said, "Absolutely. I'll meet you in the bedroom. I just need to get something first."

That's how you ended up putting your clothes on hangers while Bradley resurfaced a few minutes later with his keyboard. Instead of helping you in any way, he sat on the bed and started playing Whole Lotta Love.

"I asked you to help me," you told him with a laugh as you tossed a pair of your shorts at him while he played. "You're worse than DJ Insomnia."

"Just for that, you get a remix too."

---------------------------

I'm not exactly sure how "Sneak Peek: Bradley's Version" ended up happening, but I hope you enjoyed it. I might like it even better than the Jake fic! Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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superhumanfoods · 4 months

Text

We need to talk about Sending Rocks.

You probably don't understand what that means. That's fine. It's a weird little example I made up, and I'll explain.

I'm the creator of the near-future cyberpunk podcast SINKHOLE. SINKHOLE is weird, short-form, nearly impossible to explain to people, and utterly unmonetizable. It's also got a very healthy listenership for something so esoteric. (I promise season three is coming; life just keeps happening, constantly.)

Because of that, I have a reputation as a weird little indie creator. And if I were to run a crowdfund, I could set up a donation tier that was literally just

"I will go outside, find a rock on the ground, and mail it to you."

and most people would find that funny and charming. I think, at worst, people might find it puzzling, but they'd still opt in out of curiosity.

A lot of you would let me send you rocks.

Now we need to talk about the re: Dracula crowdfund- about the zines. A handful of people got very upset about the perceived lack of quality present in the zines.

That caught me off-guard. To me, a zine should always be kind of janky. You should be able to tell exactly how far down the pile your specific zine was based purely on how committed to hitting the fold lines the person folding it was. Zines are handmade and should feel handmade.

So it seemed like people were complaining about the zines being zines, and I didn't get it.

And then I realized something: it's not about the zines. It's about the fact that they were coming from Tal Minear.

If Tal Minear ran a crowdfund and set up a donation tier that was just

"I will go outside, find a rock on the ground, and mail it to you."

I would give it about a day before someone found a way to turn that specifically into a talking point about how Tal doesn't respect the audio drama community.

Tal Minear cannot send rocks. The zine was never the problem. The way people think about Tal is the problem.

We need to talk about how this community keeps trying to reinvent classism based on nothing but vibes and follower numbers.

I'm going to tell you something you already know but probably don't want to admit: the independent audio drama scene is to the independent film scene what a fish tank in a dentist's office is to the ocean.

The biggest names in this community are just a step up from being nobodies.

If you went outside right now and spoke to the first person you saw on the street, the only non-BBC fiction podcasts you would have any realistic hope of them knowing are Welcome to Night Vale or Archive 81- and the latter only because it got turned into a Netflix show, which means that they might not even realize it was a podcast first. There's also a chance they'll have heard of The Magnus Archives, but it's not a guarantee by any means.

Now, this last one I've mentioned to a few people, and was surprised to get a lot of pushback. There seems to be this thought that no, of course everyone has heard of The Magnus Archives.

No. No, man.

You're doing the Homestuck thing. I hate to hurt you like this, but you're doing that thing people did where they assumed everyone had at least heard of Homestuck.

There are people in your life that have never heard of Homestuck.

The Magnus Archives was a mini-zeitgeist in which the fandom engaged in wild speculating, plentiful shipping, and lots and lots of aligning yourself with a specific Fear.

And it was never as big as Homestuck.

I'm sorry. Jonny Sims is not a household name. That's simply the truth.

He is also in this fish tank with us. As far as I am aware, he has not escaped to begin acting in feature films or begun voicing characters in massive video game franchises. Slay the Princess was pretty cool. It's not exactly fucking Assassin's Creed, though.

He doesn't even have a Wikipedia page.

And notice how my metric for breakout success involved going to other, better-known mediums? That's because a breakout success in this community involves getting a blurb on Buzzfeed or in Cosmo. There is no audio fiction podcasting elite. The idea is hilarious.

Even Markiplier doesn't count, because he's YouTube royalty. He's not famous because of The Edge of Sleep. The same is true of any celebrity. They're visitors. They didn't get their break here.

Tal Minear is not your landlord. They're a slightly bigger fish in the same tank as you that likes to poke around in the muck a bit more than you personally enjoy. And, well, you cannot argue that Tal's position as showrunner of re: Dracula justifies framing them that way.

Because the thing is, I'm not just the creator of SINKHOLE. I'm also the showrunner and head writer of Mayfair Watchers Society as of season two. Showrunning and writing is most of my income these days. Tal and I are very comparable in terms of the material power we wield. This isn't a secret.

And yet, a lot of you would still let me send you rocks.

Now the actually important thing.

We need to talk about how this exact illusion, this fanciful idea that there are real industry goliaths in this fishbowl, has already been used to justify the mistreatment of marginalized people.

When Tonia Ransom brought up the issues she had with how the AnonymousAD tumblr had characterized her crowdfunding campaign, this is the reason why people felt they could dismiss and ignore her. Because yes, she's a black woman speaking out about having been wronged, but she's also a "Big Creator," and therefore it evens out.

It doesn't even out.

A lot of the most successful creators you know in this space still have day jobs. I spent yesterday and today doing inventory at my retail job. I spent hours poring over shitty little badly printed tags and biting back swear words because our owner will not let us close, so there were still customers in the store, actively buying the things we were trying to count.

This Us vs Them shit has got to stop. It's nothing. It's a parody and a sham. If you tried to explain it to your grandmother, she'd give you the exact same reaction as if you had tried to tell her about drama in the Homestuck fandom.

Because it's the same.

And you don't get to use it to justify being shitty to someone who you know perfectly well would deserve your humility and understanding if you weren't pretending they were your boss.

Who can send rocks is not and has never been a reflection of real power or privilege. Deciding someone cannot send rocks is just a convenient excuse to disregard their perspective when it makes you angry or uncomfortable.

At best, it's tilting at windmills. At worst, it is punishing your peers for daring to defend themselves or speak out against injustice while being marginally more successful than you.

#audio drama #enough of this #it's been going on for a while and getting progressively worse #none of this Big Name Fan shit #this is fandom toxicity #and we're not even a goddamn fandom

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princeoftheeternalbog · 6 months

Text

OP characters reacting to you kissing them and running away (here's part 2) established relationship ish. Feel free to ask for other characters.

ALSO I've definitely seen another creator who did this idea with op characters but I can't remember who so if someone could tell me I would really love to credit them :(. I tried to make mine different but still it's the principal of it.

Slightly suggestive in some parts so mdni.

Luffy

Thinks its a new game like tag but with kisses and it ends up actually becoming one. You'll both wait for the other to become distracted and then you'll strike, planting a kiss and sprinting off around the ship or the island you're docked at. It's not hard to chase after each other because the trails of laughter are so easy to follow and it always ends up with one of you on the floor from a tackle or something similar.

Zoro

Gobsmacked. Genuinely his jaw drops especially if there's other people there and you get away so easily only because of how long it takes his brain to boot back online. Oh but he doesn't let it go. He waits until you're in a similar situation, either talking to someone or doing work and he sneaks up to pull you into a deep, intense kiss that leaves your knees weak. Like he fully puts the moves on you, hand on your lower back, other hand cradling your jaw, hes literally licking into your mouth and then he just disappears for the rest of the day. Asshole.

Sanji

You are not running away from this man. Not in a scary way but he can't do just one short kiss, as soon as you're leaning in his hands settle firm on your hips and that grip is not something you can wiggle out of. You can try to run away but he just laughs at you and pulls you closer to him, ofc he would let go if you actually wanted him to but he knows what you're trying to pull. Says something like "Oh? Trying to run darlin? How sweet." swoon- Just don't even bother, he will always try to win if your affection is involved.

Nami

Honestly thinks nothing of it. A lot of your affection is sweet but quick because yk pirate life. But if you look disappointed from her lack of reaction then she catches on quickly and starts playing along. So sweet even though she can be scary. Oh but don't try to run if she's initiating, like Sanji you aren't going to get out of her grip. If she wants to shower you with affection, she is going to thank you very much. If you do manage to slip away she's surprisingly quick and surprisingly stealthy. Like you'll think you got away and you walk into a room and she drops down from the ceiling like fucking batman.

(maybe not that dramatic but shes good)

Robin

She lets you run away but only because she knows she could summon a mouth to kiss you at any time and in any place so she's content knowing she always wins. Also thinks it's really cute when you try to rile her up like this, she just finds it so endearing and usually ends up playing into it anyways- "My, my, aren't you getting so bold my love". Sometimes will purposefully trip you up while you're doing these antics so you can't get away or so you're plan is ruined, absolutely pretends she has no idea what you're talking about.

Usopp

Highly likely he was doing something when it happened. Highly likely he dropped something onto his foot as a result. Yowls like an injured cat and then when his brain catches up it's like steam comes out of his ears. Stands there with his mouth open and pointing at you like you betrayed his entire family. Very funny and very cute. Also a possibility of him smacking you out of fearful instinct in which case he'd probably cry his eyes out and beg for forgiveness. Nami makes it worse by punching him in the face for hitting you. A mess all around if you get him at the wrong time so just be careful.

Ace

Immediately sprinting after you, it's actually a bit scary. But like hey he's not letting you get away with just one measly little peck on the cheek. Absolutely nobody on the crew helps you unless it would be funny, i.e. someone tripping Ace up so he faceplants. If it's near the beginning of your relationship then you likely go back out of concern which he takes as a chance to catch you, but if it's later then you already know this man's antics and you know he wouldn't be injured just from tripping so you use it as an opportunity to get away💪. You still have to kiss it better later though when hes whining to you about how cruel you are for leaving him in the dust(he would do the same).

Izou

Don't bother. As soon as you turn he snatches you by the back of your collar and pulls you onto his lap, proceeds to resume his conversation like nothing is wrong but his arms are firm around your waist and his cheeks and ears are a particularly pretty shade of red. Once his conversation is over and the other person has left, he turns his attention to you with a very pointed look. He's not actually irritated but if he enjoys watching you squirm that's his business. "If you wanted a kiss you should've just asked my love" and then he's practically devouring your mouth. Doesn't care about the other people in the vicinity. Doesn't care that he's smudging his lipstick. Just wants to fluster you more than you flustered him.

Marco

Do you even want to run away from this man lets be real- anyways.

If he's doing work then he just laughs and lets you get away with it, tallys it in his head for later, but if he's free and hes in a good mood then he absolutely plays into it. Will chase after you. Will cheat by using his powers. Its a bit scary but also very attractive, somehow ends with him pinning you in some way (☺️), looks very smug when he wins. Like you'll end up flat on your back, legs trapped under his and his hands restraining yours and he's just grinning- "Oh what a surprise. You were so easy to catch-yoi" Yeah yeah shut up. Absolutely asks what his reward is just to see your shocked face (absolutely asks again later when you two are alone).

Sabo

VILLAIN!!!!!! Sorry only way i can describe how devious and obsessed this man would be. Like Izou he tries to snatch you immediately but you planned for this so you manage to spring out of his grip in time. You falter a bit at his reaction then because he just blinks at you for a while. You start to feel a bit nervous and when he finally grins at you, you definitely feel nervous. "Playing like that are we honey? How about I give you a headstart then?" Evil. You know he's going to catch you. He knows he's going to catch you. He's just giving you false hope but yk hope is hope so you take the chance.

You don't get far. It's not even fair how quickly he catches up to you and gets you underneath him, it takes him barely any effort, not even a strand of hair is out of place. Spends the next 10 minutes kissing you on the floor of the hallway until Koala comes back and promptly drags him back into his office.

#one piece x reader #marco the phoenix x reader #portagas d. ace x reader #x reader #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #sanji x reader #nami x reader #nico robin x reader #ussop x reader #izou x reader #sabo x reader #op headcanons #one piece x gn reader #gn reader #usopp x reader #one piece fics #monster trio x reader

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kisses4choso · 7 months

Text

#DAD?

SYNOPSIS: when you first meet their adoptive kids CHARACTERS: s. gojo & s. geto WARNINGS: mildly suggestive (geto), ages 19/18 [according to the manga] NOTE: pretend geto didn't commit genocide... he brought the girls back to jujutsu tech and lived happily ever after!

when GOJO first introduces megumi and tsumiki to you, you're a bit conflicted. the first thing you think? yeah, gojo was right in being scared of a kid that's a third of his age; poor megumi looked identical to his father. the second? they're so young, they're actual kids. gojo is so young. you are so young.

"nice to meet you. i've heard lots about you," is the only thing you can offer to the children other than a warm smile. the boy stares at you before looking off to the side, and his sister nudges him, smiling at you politely.

"us too," the little girl says, "professor gojo says you're pretty a lot," she stumbles over her words a bit before deciding on something, "and you make really good cup ramen."

"professor gojo said that?" you look up at him from where you're squatting on the ground, tickled by the funny nickname, and you're happy to see a cute smile dancing across his face. "then i'll have to treat you to some ramen soon."

she nods, still flashing her smile, although it's missing a few teeth, and megumi remains looking off to the side.

"are you gonna be in charge of us too?" he suddenly asks, his blunt words a contrast to his little voice.

satoru answers for you, squatting down to meet the boy's eyes (probably, it's hard to see where he's looking with those glasses), "we're still figuring that out, kid. are ya tryna get rid of me or somethin'?"

megumi mumbles something under his breath, and whatever it is, it earns him a pointed sideways glance from his sister.

"wanna say that louder?" he challenges the boy, but megumi responds by sticking his tongue out at him. gojo mimics his actions, just like a boy would. because that's exactly what he is, a teenage boy.

"thought so! alright, you two, can you give us adults a second to talk? we gotta talk about..." he trails off, turning his head to face you directly, "taxes, or somethin'. we'll be in my room. be on your best behavior please, we have a guest."

"pinky promise," tsumiki says, kissing her thumb and holding out her hand. surprise washes over gojo's features, but he quickly composes himself, mirroring tsumiki and allowing her to link her pinky to his. she presses her thumb to his, effectively sealing the promise.

cute, he thinks, how hard would it be for megumi to be like that?

gojo then decisively sticks his pinky out to megumi, but the boy gives him a weary look, and he frowns. "well, holler if ya need me!"

and with that, he's rushing you off to his room, closing his door behind him, lowering his voice, and tugging off his glasses, "so? whaddya think?"

"about?" you stall, finding comfort in his bed as if it were your own. you feel his eyes on you, you always do, but this time it's that look. he's analyzing your every move, your flow of energy, your darting eyes; you're not sure if it would be more effective to acknowledge it or let it go. he stands in front of you, so it's hard to ignore, but you persist.

he hesitates before speaking, a rare occasion, "remember how i said i wanna be a teacher at tech?" he doesn't wait for your answer, "i think, if i try hard enough, i can start teaching right now. the boy has lots of potential, and i want to develop that. can't let it be wasted with the z'enins."

you move your lips, but he anticipates your words, "i know, i'm not even twenty yet," he brushes a hand through his hair, "i don't want his power to be a burden to him. he wants to protect his sister. i can help him."

"i know you can, satoru. it's what you want to do, and i know above everything else, you're stubborn," you finally meet his gaze, and you find the troubled twist of his lips. "but will you have time?"

"i've got enough money..." he says, deflating at your unconvinced sigh, "i'll find a way."

seeing him so caught up in this tugs on your heartstrings a little, and the slight pout on his lips doesn't do much to help your heartache. you say what you were scared to from the moment he mentioned the two children, "i can help."

for the second time that evening, shock laces itself onto his face. you look a little startled by your own words. the reality of being responsible for raising two children on top of developing megumi's cursed technique against the wishes of arguably the most powerful sorcerer clan... it was heavy.

"ya don't gotta, i just wanted to know if i'm crazy or not for adopting two young kids at my age."

"you're always a little crazy, no? and i want to," you say, and a beat of silence passes between the two of you, the six eyes user taking a particularly sharp breath.

"you're okay with raising those two brats? with me?" he dismisses your first comment, the last question a little quieter.

he takes a step closer to you and crosses his fingers in hopes you'd say yes. a selfish thought, but it means another reason to convince you to move in with him. another reason to spend nights and days together. yet another reason to love you.

"yes, professor, but with all these missions, you'll practically be an absent father... figure," you reach out to him, pulling him closer by his waistband.

he smiles, slumping his weight in the spot right next to you as if his king bed couldn't hold him anywhere else, "not much different than what they're used to."

"satoru," you bat his shoulder, and he laughs, dimples on display. you don't miss the questions hidden in his eyes, and you wish he'd lean over just a little for you, maybe let him steal a kiss or two as a remedy. you continue, "we turned out all right, i'm sure they'll be okay with you."

"with us," he corrects, "and i turned out amazing, by the way."

he turns to you, attention completely fixed on the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh, at his expense, but the laugh is for him. uncharacteristic emotion comes over him for a moment, but his gaze is as steady as always, and in the moment he's sure he'd done something in his past life right, "but i hope they learn more from you."

"mimiko, nanako, come say hi," GETO calls to the girls as he opens his door for you. you were at his house as a 'surprise' he said, so you felt the necessity to get the two girls a few gifts.

he moves aside to allow you in, and immediately you're aware of the unusual mess in his living room. the building blocks, dolls, hair bows, plushies, toy cars, and puzzles make it look like a daycare.

his lips meet your forehead, "hey, you didn't have to get them anything. they're spoiled."

"i see that," you laugh, grabbing onto his freshly manicured hand as he leads you to set your things down on the coffee table.

his hair is messily braided as well, and you take out your phone to get a picture, but your attention is caught by two pairs of thundering steps coming toward you.

"mister geto! look what we drew for..." nanako quickly stops herself, her feet screeching to a halt, her sister bumps into her back.

mimiko yelps, not expecting the blonde to halt so suddenly. she peeks over her, searching the living room and finding you sitting on the couch. her part of the couch.

"what a cute," geto hesitates, turning away from you and toward the hall, "cat?"

nanako pouts, casting her gaze toward her feet, "it's supposed to be you with kitty ears."

geto quickly clears his throat, "i know, i was just kiddin'."

he glances back at you, the remenants of a smile in his eyes. he definitely did not know.

"who the heck's that?" the blonde says, leaning to the side to get a good look at you. "i thought you were gonna bring the guy with the weird eyes."

"nanako," geto's sharp eyes are not visible to you, but you know he's giving her a disapproving look with how she tenses. "come here, please. this is who i was talking about earlier when you weren't paying attention."

the two girls share eye contact (although the meaning of it is known only to them) and reluctantly step forward, the brunette behind the blonde.

the dynamic was obvious to you, nanako was the loud one, and mimiko was the shy one. it was cute, the way they held each other's hand upon coming closer from where they stood in the hall.

suguru attempts to push the two little girls toward you once they reach him, but they both hide behind him. your heart warms at the sight; nanako's looking up at geto, hugging his leg while mimiko squishes the side of her face against his other leg and looks at you.

you break the ice by introducing yourself, a little discouraged when they simply blink at you.

time for the trick up your sleeve.

"i brought these here for you. they're from kyoto, and i heard you wanted to try them."

their eyes instantly brighten, and they both look up at geto, waiting for his permission. he smiles at them, giving them both a quick nod, and they run toward the long couch.

"excuse me, can we open them?" mimiko asks, and you think that even if you tried, you couldn't find it in your heart to deny the girl anything.

you hand each of them a sparkly gift bag, "of course, hon. they're for you."

geto follows closely behind them as they wander over to the couch, opting to sit down on the floor right in front of you, between both of the girls.

mimiko opens her bag carefully, removes the tissue papers one by one, and gasps when she sees what's at the bottom. she turns to nanako and her mess, holding up her snacks. "look!"

they were giggling, trading a few of their gifts, and having fun with the extra plushies you had thrown in there.

"what do we say?" geto interrupts them while they're lost in their own world, but they don't seem bothered in the least.

"thank you so much!" they both exclaim at the same time, mimiko a little louder than normal.

you turn to geto as they wander into the kitchen to excitedly eat their snacks, "they're great girls. i can't believe those people would..."

geto winces, holding your hand delicately, "i know. but they're doing good so far. i think you made a good impression, they're not so quick to trust people."

you smile, a newfound hope inside you, "i can tell they adore you. you'd make a good dad, suguru."

you lean down to give him a quick kiss, but something changes in his expression, and he holds your chin in his hand, stopping you from meeting his lips. he smiles at your frown, a teasing lilt in his voice when he speaks, "don't say things like that."

"or what?" you know just how to get under his skin, and although your original comment wasn't meant to bother him, it's given you an opening.

his pupils are dilated; you can almost guess what he's about to say, or perhaps do, and--

"hi, do you wanna try?" nanako suddenly speaks, and you both jump, so caught up in your own world, that you hadn't noticed the girls' presence.

"thank you," you say, taking a chip from the bag she held to you, and geto does the same. mimiko offers you gummy bears, and you take one as well.

still a little startled, geto mouths a 'sorry' to you, and you merely shake your head, enjoying the sweet gummy.

he'd no longer have the benefit of having you all to himself in his house anymore; having no privacy was almost guaranteed with kids like mimiko and nanako.

but he thinks it might be worth it, seeing the way the girls smile as you compliment their hairdos, and watching you laugh as they take credit for his. he glances at your hands as you cover your eyes for a game of hide and seek, eyes caught on the glint of the promise ring on your index finger.

no, he didn't mind it one bit.

haruta's better than me, if nanami was that close to me...

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #geto x reader #dad gojo #dad geto #mimiko and nanako #megumi and tsumiki #suguru x reader #satoru x reader #gojo x you #geto x you #jjk imagines

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