Could u write something for Ghost, where he has trouble sleeping, so the reader gives him gentle back scratches until he‘s asleep? Just pure fluff pls. Thank youu🙏
simon riley x fem!reader
fluffy drabble :)
tangled up in your arms, simon sighs in exasperation. it's another night where he can't shut his eyes and mind off. the need is there, the exhaustion clawing at him like a feral animal, but every time he closes his eyes, his thoughts get loud. to avoid that, he wills himself to open his eyes, and this shit ends up being a never-ending cycle until the early morning hours.
simon smooths a hand over the bare skin of your lower back. his head is on your chest; your steady heartbeat is his only consolation. your cold fingers touch his hot skin in a comforting way that he's almost lulled back to sleep.
it's like you can sense his discomfort. your eyes flutter open as simon shuffles into a better position. "why aren't you sleeping, love?" your voice is muffled by the mop of blond hair.
he just grunts in annoyance, and you softly smile. your eyes flutter close again, fingers finding the centre of his back. it's not the first time simon has had trouble sleeping. with his hectic schedule, even when on he's at home, he's always stressed. you know exactly what he wants.
the euphoric feeling of your hand travelling up and down left and right on his back, tracing imaginary steps and paths, almost melts him.
he hums in response, head going absolutely empty. he can already feel himself slip into the welcoming darkness.
"you like it?" you whisper, containing the tired giggle trying to escape.
simon is practically purring, completely melted like an ice cream cone on a hot summer day. you know he'll be asleep soon, dead to the world for a couple of hours before he's back into his grumpy self.
you're half-asleep when you hear simon mutter something. "hm? what was that?" you lift your head enough to look down at him.
"you're awesome, lovie."
your head thumps back in the pillow, and you chuckle. "you're just saying that so i don't stop the back scratches."
"mmmaybe," you hit a good spot, "or maybe, you reeeeally are awesome." his fingers move in soft circles on your lower back, no doubt a way to repay your services.
you scoff. "don't worry. i won't stop." you circle a healed bullet hole. "arse kisser." you can't help but add.
his lips shift against you, turning upwards in a smile. he's out like a light moments later.
the only thing on my mind is rooster shaving his mustache for whatever reason and gf reader is upset ! silly little blurb i luv ur writing muah
bradley bradshaw x fem!reader
ANON!!! ILY THANK YOU FOR READING MY STUFF <3333333 much love to you, MWAH! hope you enjoy this one!
You're shocked, heartbroken, in shambles, you name it. The grocery bag almost slips from your fingers when you hear the horrid sound of the electric razor from the bathroom. You place the bags on the counter before practically running inside.
You want to douse your eyes with gasoline when you see the damage. Bradley had been mentioning here and there that he wanted to shave his moustache just to see how he'd look without it. You'd forbade such talk inside the house, and he chuckled before dropping the subject.
But what seemed to be your biggest fear was becoming your new reality. With your keys clutched in one hand, the other holding on for dear life at the door frame, you watch your dear boyfriend shave the last of his moustache over the sink.
He hasn't noticed you yet. Music is playing from his phone, but you can't bring yourself to recognise the tune. This situation is way too tragic. When the buzzing sound stops emanating from the vile machine, Bradley finally turns around, having heard your panting.
"Babe, this isn't what it looks like." He speaks with hesitation and guilt.
"What did you do?" Your every word is punctuated.
Bradley opens his mouth but closes it, and you shake your head expectantly. "Well?"
"I-I was trimming it, and Din here," he looks at your cat, laying on the floor as if he's the criminal here, "came between my legs and scared me, and I moved my hand, and I shaved more than I should. It didn't look good anymore."
You scoff, pushing yourself off the doorway and turning to walk to your bedroom. Not once did you believe Bradley.
"Babe? Baby, c'mon!"
"I am not talking to you, hairless cat."
You hear him chuckle. "Hey, it's not that bad!" Bradley follows you into the bedroom.
"Never said it was." You shrug, taking your shirt off.
He's behind you in seconds, kissing your neck, his hands encircling your waist and pulling you closer. "You called me a hairless cat."
"Don't have a problem with cats. I own one." You pause, looking up. "Now, I got another one! Hm! Look at that!"
"Hey!" Bradley blows a breath where your jawline meets your ear, causing you to shiver.
You spend a few seconds like this, his hands around you, your back pressed against his smooth shirtless chest, face buried in your neck. Feels weird without the stache.
"So, you don't like it?" You realise you've spoken aloud when he questions you.
You shake your head. "I think you look attractive either way." You turn to Bradley, never escaping his grasp.
"I'm only joking. You look like a baby. It's adorable!"
Bradley looks offended. "Well, in that case, I am letting it grow and never shaving it ever again."
You grab the back of his head, kissing where he used to have perfectly trimmed hair. The spot is soft and smooth as a baby's butt.
they catch you singing. this was requested by the lovely @thicc-plum. hope it lives up to what you expected!
Sundays happened to be the laziest of all days. You usually get out of bed while your boyfriend is out for his morning jog, make breakfast and sing, and by the time he drags his sweaty ass home, his favourite meal is on the table.
Today was no different. You moved to the beat of Love by Keyshia Cole and flipped the half-burned pancake, wincing and placing it in your dear lover's stack. He'd never know.
"Oh, looove! Never knew what I was missing!" You belted the lyrics, using the spatula as a makeshift mic.
—
SIMON "GHOST" RILEY.
He comes in while you're lost in that Keyshia Cole moment and leans in the doorframe, staring.
Simon almost laughs at how long it took to realise you're not alone. He'll scold you later for not paying enough attention to your surroundings. He could've been a dangerous man, for Christ's sake and—
He pushes those thoughts away and just watches you dance and sing. He can't help but smile.
Eventually, your voice cracks and that's enough for him to stop you from bloody deafening him.
"Oi, stop it, already! Bloody hell, your voice is awful."
It takes everything in your startled self not to throw the spatula at him. You watch Simon take his sweater off and fold it like he's grown two heads.
"You almost gave me a heart attack!"
"You almost made me rip my ears out."
A towel smacks his head a second later.
—
JOHN PRICE
Can hear you from the moment he reaches your floor. He laughs to himself, pitying your neighbours.
John walks in and recognises the song that's playing. It's one of your favourites. So, he takes off his shoes and joins you.
He wraps his arms around you, and you jump before you realise who it is. He smells of cigars and coffee, and you wonder if it was he who put the half-empty mug on the sink.
"You scared me, John." You smile.
"I think you scared the pigeons off the window with your singing."
You elbow him, and he kisses you on the neck.
You giggle.
—
KYLE "GAZ" GARRICK
He definitely joins you!
He knows your love for this song is huge and watching you perform while thinking no one is around is adorable.
You jump when a second voice joins in, but a smile spreads on your lips, and you momentarily lose track of the lyrics.
Kyle offers his hand and you take it, allowing him to spin you around and dance with you.
His eyes hold extreme adoration for you as do yours.
When the song ends, you pull him for a kiss, mumbling about how cute he is when he tries to hit the high notes.
He blushes.
—
JOHNNY "SOAP" MACTAVISH
Johnny's a fucking menace ISTG.
He sneaks in the kitchen and due to you having your back turned to him you don't realise he's pulled out his phone and is filming you.
Johnny tries to muffle his laugh at your stance and the grip you have on the spatula/makeshift mic.
Once you realise there's another person in the room with you, you stop, heat creeping up on your ears, face and shoulders.
"Hey," you say meekly.
"Why'd ye stop, popstar? I was enjoyin' the free concert."
You punch his shoulder playfully, eyes widening when you notice the phone in his hands.
"Oh, tell me you didn't film that."
Johnny's wide grin is the only answer you need before you pounce on him, trying to pry the phone from his hands and delete the video.
Soon enough you're wrestling on the couch, and your breakfast is burning.
can you write something for ghost, where he‘s too tired to remove his eyeblack and kinda passes out on the couch.
so the reader removes it gently for him without waking him and cuddles up with him on the couch :))
just fluffy + the morning after
thank youu !! i love ur work
simon riley x gn!reader
cw nothing, just fluff
note thank you for reading my stuff, anon!!! much much love to you! this kindaaaa got out of hand...
The apartment was empty when Ghost entered it. After taking off his boots and balaclava, he dragged his aching feet to the bathroom. The shower was quick, but much to his annoyance, the face paint was still smeared around his eyes and quick. He swore he'd scrub it off after a nap.
The apartment was empty when Ghost entered. He called your name once but decided you were gone for an errand. He wasn't supposed to be back until Friday but was exhausted and had leave days to spare. Simon took off his boots and balaclava, inhaling the sweet scent of vanilla from the discarded pile of freshly washed clothes on the basket.
I'll hang them up later, he promised.
Simon took his clothes off, stepping in the warm water hurriedly. He quickly got out and dressed, for his eyes were drooping, and he was fighting for his life to stay awake. One look in the mirror made him groan. The smeared black paint had stayed intact around his eyes and cheeks.
I'll scrub it off later, he promised again.
He plopped on the couch, his eyes shutting and his fingers brushing away stray hair. He'd just rest his eyes for a while, so he won't look like a ghost when you return. That's what he said to himself. And then he slipped into a much-needed nap.
When you return, you almost have a heart attack. It takes your brain a moment to recognise the hunk of a man snoring on your living room couch. You chuckle when the distinct heavy snore escapes his parted lips.
You approach him, contemplating waking him up. The excitement of his return was about to make you explode, but you knew he was dead tired. You decided to let him sleep and wake him up when dinner would be ready.
You're about to walk away when Simon moves his arm from his eyes. You furrow your brows at the black paint staining his skin. He was probably too tired to scrub it off. It looks itchy and uncomfortable. So, before prepping dinner, you wipe it off for him. The process was quick, and you were as gentle as possible so you wouldn't wake him up. You ended up putting your night hydrating cream on his face so Simon would feel comfortable and fresh when he would wake up.
By the time his face is clean, the towel you've used and your fingers are black, and your eyes are drooping. You were surprised it had taken this much energy out of you, but between trying not to wake him up and your own exhaustion, it made sense.
You contemplated your options. The pile of clothes on the basket called for you to hang them, but your couch and the sleeping beauty of a boyfriend looked much more appealing. I'll just rest my eyes for a bit.
And so it was decided. You sped to your room, switching to your (Simon's) sleep shirt and climbed the tree you called your boyfriend like a koala. Simon shifted and whined but welcomed your weight, wrapping a bicep around you to keep you steady. You smiled and shut your eyes, snuggling closer to him. It wasn't long before you fell asleep.
Simon woke up sneezing. Strands of hair tickled his entire face. His right arm was numb from having squished it between himself and the couch. His face felt...clean. He rubbed his face, realising the face paint was gone. Instead his skin felt like yours when you put that expensive moisturising cream.
He cast his eyes down, a smile overtaking his features. You clung to his body, a leg hanging off the couch. Simon knew your shoulders would hurt from the weird position you slept in. He looked around. The only light source was the rising sun and the small light you kept on in the kitchen at all times. If he had to guess, from the pretty pink colour the sky was, in a few minutes, the sunrise would be seen from the roof of your building.
"Wake up, lovie." You groan. "Let's go watch the sunrise."
"Simon, what the fuck are you on about?" Your voice is bearly audible from where you've buried your face. "Let me sleep. I'm tired, Si."
He shakes his shoulder, pushing your face away and causing you to groan again, still half-asleep. "Don't you wanna watch the sunrise w'me?"
You don't speak for a few seconds, pondering if you should just go back to sleep. But his tone is pleading, and he sounds so cute.
"Ugh, okay." You drag yourself away from the heat of his own, a small smile on your face.
Simon smiles, touching his cheeks. "Did you clean my face, love?"
You nod, snorting. "Zero reflexes. You didn't even move. Military trained, my ass."
"Oi!" he faked insult. "I was jus' tired!"
You leaned to kiss him. "Sure, baby. Just grab a hoodie, might be chilly out."
He obliges, sulking in the process. "You laughing at me, love?"
You gasp, unlocking the door. Simon hands you the hoodie. "Me? Never!" You open the door and turn to him, pointing to the corner of his lip. "You have drool right here."
"What?!"
You're out of the door, before he can catch you, trying to stiffle your giggles at his stunned expression as you run up the stairs toward the roof. Simon doesn't hesitate to follow you, the smile on his face widening.
hiii bestie i hope you’re doing well 🌷 can i request a fluffy frank piece that includes “i can’t sleep without you” <3 the quote doesn’t have to be exactly that ofc you can change it however you see fit :) please feel free to disregard this if it doesn’t inspire you!! 💛💐🌟🌷
frank castle x fem!reader
fluffy drabble.
THIS IS BAD. OH MY GOD. also this request is so old, IM SORRY IM SO BAD AT DELIVERING.
The big window to the right of the bed shook as if someone was trying to open it. You rolled your eyes and huffed in annoyance. After tossing and turning for the whole night in worry, you had just settled to your left side. With a grunt, the window opened, and you knew who it was exactly.
You sat up, waiting for him to drag himself inside and shut the window. You pulled your knees to your chest and glared daggers at your boyfriend—albeit sleepily. He hadn't noticed you, for darkness consumed the room, and his large form covered the light the moon shone towards the bed.
"Look, what the fucking cat dragged in," your tone was as sarcastic as it could get.
Frank jumped and jerked his body to face yours. He breathed in relief when he saw your silhouette under the covers, but his frown soon returned, as did the pain on his side. He hissed, and your irritated expression fell, morphing into one of worry and fear.
"What?" Your voice shook. "What is it?"
He dropped his bag by the window and walked by the bed, heading to the bathroom—all while holding his side, which worried you more. You threw the covers off, running after him.
"Frank!"
He waved his hand and tried to shoo you and shut the door so you wouldn't see how bad he looked, but because his limbs were heavy and his moves slow, you managed to slip inside with him.
"It's okay, baby. You can go back to bed. I'll join you after I take a shower." Frank's voice was deep by nature, but this tone was underlined with pain.
You shake your head and move to get the small first aid kit you keep for situations like this one. Frank leans on the sink, takes his shirt off, lips pursed, and stares at you. He studies you carefully, from head to toe, ensuring you're okay. Is that his shirt?
"Is that my shirt?" He asks, but you don't answer.
You're worried, yes, but you're also angry at the man for not contacting you and having you worry so much.
"Baby...talk to me, please," he speaks so softly, and how do you not break at that moment?
You press your fingers to the massive bruise forming on the side he was holding, biting the inside of your cheek. He hisses, and a small smirk slips on your lips. Serves him right.
"Oh, you find my pain funny?" Frank tries again, but you just look up at him sharply.
His head tilts to the side. "Why weren't you sleeping?"
You sigh at the honest confusion in his tone. You can't be mad at this buffoon—as much as you want to.
You shrug, applying cream to the scratches on his shoulder now. "Couldn't sleep without you," you say quietly.
"What's that, honey?" You know damn well he heard you.
"Don't push your luck."
He hisses when you slap the bandaid on his shoulder blade harder than needed. He manages to chuckle and moves his hand to pull you closer once you try to move away.
"What?" Your angry facade is slipping more and more by the moment, as sleep tries to evade all of your senses.
"I'm sorry for worrying you, sweet girl." Frank smiles down at you, and you blink, gaze softening completely.
"Apology accepted. Now, go shower. You smell like gunpowder and fish."
summary a shitty day leads to an arguement, which leads to misunderstandings, resulting to voicing insecurities about your realtionship with bradley.
cw angst with a happy ending, miscommunication trope (?), NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER.
note THE DIALOGUE PROMPT: "When I picture myself happy, I see you."
1,9K | shelf
Your day had been shitty from the start. Bradley had left before you had a chance to wake up again but not to mention there was no note about his departure again. He usually wrote you a cute letter about where he was going and would kiss your forehead before leaving.
That wasn't the first time it'd happened.
You know exactly when it started. One day you woke up while he was getting ready to go to the base and waited with your eyes half-open and your body unmoving until he gave you your kiss to go back to sleep. That never happened. Bradley walked out of the door without so much as glancing at you.
It's okay. He forgot. It's no big deal—at least I'll get my note. But you never did get that note.
After that incident, the date cancellations started. "Sorry, babe, I have a few training exercises to complete, so I'll be home late. Go to the movies without me." "Ah fuck, darlin', you got me in a rough spot. The squad and I are going to the Hard Deck to celebrate Nix's successful mission. You're welcome to join!"
Something was happening with Rooster, and you desperately needed to find out what it was. Work? Maverick? Another woman? Your breath hitched at the thought, and you shook your head in annoyance.
There were so many other things you had to worry about right now, and the thought of Bradley cheating couldn't get in your way. I trust him with my life—he'd never do anything like that.
You pushed your apartment door open and stepped inside, immediately letting go of the shredded grocery bags. Another sigh escaped your mouth as you watched the oranges and apples roll down the ground for the second time.
The first time the fruit fell out on the street was before you got to your building. The apples mostly rolled down the road for a good few seconds before you could put them back in the bag.
You had to wash them before Rooster got home, for he has a habit of eating them off the bowl without caring if they're clean or dirty.
After cleaning them, you placed the fruit in their respective bowls and moved on to the rest of your groceries. You hadn't even realised Bradley was behind you until you felt arms wrap around your waist.
You startled, moving away from the counter and into his arms. A content sigh escaped, and you closed your eyes, relishing in how his warm chest felt on your back. The kiss on your temple that follows leaves your heart a sputtering mess.
You groan, discontented, when he moves away, opening your eyes and turning around just in time to see him biting down on the apple.
"No, Bradley, don't eat that!" You try to stop him, but it's too late.
"Why not?" He speaks when he's swallowed. "It's delicious."
"God, no. The apples fell on the street right before I got here. I've washed them, but still, you should eat them without the peel."
"Seem fine to me." He shrugs.
"Well, they're not," you snap. "So, let me peel it." You reach to grab it, but he pulls it higher, where you can't touch it.
"What is it with you? You know I've eaten more disgusting things and survived, so what's your problem?!" He looks at you with a mix of annoyance and confusion.
You grit your teeth. "My problem is that you won't let me do a simple thing for you. Why do you have to act like such a baby?!"
"What?" Bradley is left breathless at your tone.
You admit there's no reason to get this worked up over fruit, but the stress-filled day and now, Rooster not listening to you was getting too much.
He tries again. "What's the matter, baby?"
"Nothing's the fucking matter, Bradshaw!" You're even surprised by how loud your voice is.
"Jesus Christ," Bradley mutters. "I'll be at the Hard Deck if you need anything." He grabs his keys and wallet, and before you know it, you hear his Bronco speed down the road.
You just stare at the door.
—
You take up on his invitation (was it an invitation?) to come to the Hard Deck in the late evening. Well, you couldn't not have come, for it's Nix's birthday today and you loved her too much to miss it.
Your dress is one of Rooster's favourites, and you hoped that if he noticed it, it'd make the apology you composed in your head better.
After greeting everyone, surprisingly even Hangman, you walk to Penny. You're looking around the packed bar in an attempt to find Rooster while Penny reaches down for your favourite beer.
"Thanks." You spare her a glance.
Before you can ask her if she has seen Bradley, she points to the other side of the bar where he's laughing with a...a woman. He's talking to a woman about your age, and they're laughing.
You feel weak. Your knees almost give out, your eyes slightly widening at what you're watching. Whatever smile you were giving Penny and your friends is gone, for your lips have turned downwards in the most saddening way possible.
He hasn't noticed you staring yet, but you can't look away. The girl is beautiful—dark hair, tall, and skinny. Her dress is much better than yours, and you can see her body shines with jewellery.
"That's my cousin." Someone whispers in your ear. You turn to look, and it's Phoenix.
Your head snaps back to them when the cousin laughs loudly. Wetness has gathered around your eyes, and you don't know if it's because you haven't blinked in so long or because your heart is twisting painfully in your chest.
"U-Um. I'm going for some fresh air." Your voice is shaky, and you don't dare look at Nix as you speed walk out of the suffocating bar. You make your way to the last steps of its backdoor, dropping on the sand-filled wooden steps.
Unbeknown to you, Bradley had seen the way you left the bar. He looked at Phoenix, who only shook her head disappointingly as an answer and then motioned him to find her. He didn't hesitate.
—
The beer was cold in your hands, so you set it beside you. You desperately wanted to go home but felt guilty when you thought about leaving. Phoenix was one of your only non-testosterone-filled friends, and it wasn't her cousin's fault for talking to Rooster. It could've been anyone on the team.
Bradley could never cheat, the rational voice in your head kept grasping at the little hope you had left. He was just making casual conversation. Right? Right.
You failed to comprehend the footsteps behind you until the person stopped and sat next to you. The familiar cologne drifted to your nostrils, and you decided to keep your head forward, wanting to hide the unstoppable tears that ran down your cheeks.
"Hi," he tries first. "Nix told me you'd be here."
You hummed, sipping your beer. "Yeah, well, I saw you were busy again, so I decided to let you have your fun." Your voice is barely collected.
"What does that even mean?" You shrug.
"You know, I don't understand what's with you. I asked you about it, and you yelled at me, so it has to do something with me. I can't resolve the issue if you don't tell me what's wrong, sweetheart."
Rooster's body has half turned toward yours now, trying to get a look on your face, but you hide it from him.
"It's a silly reason." There's no way you're telling tell a naval pilot you're lonely and sad without him. He has bigger problems than this. "Sorry for yelling at you. I did want to peel the apple for you; so you don't get sick or something."
"Wh-What? That's it?"
"Oh, um—I'm sorry for calling you a baby? You're a grown man, and I shouldn't take my anger out on you, especially when you're around only once every week."
You didn't mean for the last sentence to come out, but it did anyway, and the sarcasm was evident.
"That's it!" Rooster exclaims. "It's because I'm always working, isn't it?" When you don't answer, he knows it's true.
"You know I do this shit for you! So we can have enough money to buy your dream house in whichever place you'd like. So you can have a comfortable life. You knew what you were signing up for, so why are you doing this right now?!"
"Because I miss you, Bradley! I fucking miss you—there I said it!" You inhale, holding the tears back. "Of course, I don't want you to quit the job that you love so much! But I've been waiting for so long, after every mission, for you to come home, greet me, and spend time with me, but you don't!
And I don't know if I'm the problem—are you tired of me? Are you not happy with me anymore? Do you have another girl that's more exciting than me? What is it?!"
At this point, your voice is on the verge of breaking. You still haven't looked at Rooster. A tear escapes your eye, but he doesn't notice.
"Baby..." He moves to hold you.
You push him away.
"N-No, Rooster. Just tell me."
His heart breaks when he hears your voice crack. His body goes rigid, and his breath hitches. Have you been crying this whole time? He reaches for you again, being more gentle this time, and you let him. He turns your head and tilts it upward to meet his eyes.
Bradley can feel how wet your cheeks are as soon as he touches you. His stomach drops. He made you cry?
"Sweetheart, you're crying." You bite your lip to keep your breaths steady but look away, fearing you'll burst if you don't.
"It's silly." It's almost a whisper.
"No, no, no, no, you're crying," he says your name and your eyes meet his unconsciously.
"I made you cry."
"Well, I made you angry."
"Do you seriously believe that I'm not happy with you?" Your head faintly moves affirmatively.
He stares in disbelief for a second, but then his face morphs into something sweeter. Both of his palms find your cheeks and lightly squeeze.
"When I picture myself happy, I see you. Not planes, not Mav, not our friends. I only see you."
"Really?" You whisper.
"Yes."
"Then why have you been so distant? Why don't you kiss me anymore? Where did your notes go?" You know you sound like a child, but you don't care.
"I-I thought they were corny. Didn't want you to get sick of me. And as for the kisses, I thought you didn't want them. You pushed me away in your sleep once, but now that I think about it, you were dead to the world—so it might've been an accident." Your chest felt lighter now.
"A-And the girl?" You couldn't help but ask.
Rooster laughed. "I told you, baby. You're the only one for me. Plus, she doesn't swing my way." He wiggles his eyebrows, and you can't help but laugh.
"There's that beautiful laugh I haven't heard in days!"
He lets go of your face, and it falls on his lap as you try to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks.
"I love you, Roos," you mutter, a small smile on your lips.
"I love you more, sweet girl. Next time you feel lonely, remember I'm only one call away." You nod.
Bradley's fingers travel through your hair, and you let him comb it. This is the first time in weeks that you have felt peaceful.
🪐⚡️ bradley - rivals/not quite enemies - letting them borrow clothes to sleep in
(i trust you on this one 😉)
── DRUNK IN LOVE.
BRADLEY "ROOSTER" BRADSHAW X FEM!READER
summary what happens when you wake up in bed with rooster, your sworn rival?
cw reader is piss drunk, rooster is just a bit buzzed, they cuddle, me writing this at like five am on my phone, so it's bad. FLUFF. NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER.
note THIS ONE IS SO CUTE OMG. hope i delivered up to your expectations!!
0,8K | masterlist
"Okay, come one, now! You've drunk half the Pacific Ocean in booze," Rooster spoke as he hooked his arms under you, picking you up from the car seat with ease.
"Fuck off, Bradshaw. I can walk to my own house. I-I don't need you driving me around like-like I'm some baby!" Your words are angry slurs, causing a faint smile to lift the corner of his lips.
Well, that's the problem. You weren't in your apartment. You were at Bradley Bradshaw's—your sworn rival's—apartment, and he was carrying you to his bed. You and Nix had gotten shit-faced tonight, so he and Bob had declared themselves your chauffeurs.
You slip in and out of consciousness with your head leaning against Rooster's shoulder. You half-notice Rooster changing you into his clothes. You want to protest, but his cold fingers against your boiling hot body feel amazing. You know he would never check you out while you're this drunk—he's being a complete gentleman about it. Another thing to hate him for in the morning.
He starts by taking your current shirt on and putting one of his that looks too big on you. He then unclasps your bra before pulling you under the covers and taking your jeans off—so he doesn't see something he's not supposed to.
You babble incoherent words as Bradley stares at your limp body. You'll be so mad when you wake up tomorrow—technically today—but at that moment he could care less. His place was closer to yours, and you looked ready to collapse when you came to the bar for another drink.
You wouldn't say why you and Nix were drinking so much, and that caused his concern to worsen. So, once he saw how drunk you were, Bradley Bradshaw did the impossible; he'd been nice to you.
"So hot," you slur and push the covers off, revealing the old band t-shirt he had picked for you to wear. It'd ridden up your thigh, partially revealing your pink underwear, and Bradley had to look away as he blushed.
God. You were in his bed, wearing nothing but his shirt, your hair splayed out behind you in messy waves. That was a memory he'd never be able to forget.
He was supposed to hate you—really—for intellectual reasons. That's how it has always been between you two. You were fast and precise in the air, and he hated how lost he got every time he watched you fly. Rooster hated your recklessness sometimes. He liked hated watching you sing songs with him on the Hard Deck's piano, but even more when you danced.
He hated the way your body and hair swayed to the music on the jukebox or the piano at the Hard Deck, and he hated when you talked to Nix more than him. He hated your petty insults about his flying, and your sarcastic comments every time he brought a girl around. He couldn't have you as his, but he also couldn't stand the way you snarked a comment about each girl that walked in with him.
You just couldn't see he'd being doing it to get your attention. Like a schoolboy picking a little girl's pigtails.
Maybe this—bringing you to his place, letting you lay on his bed, staying with you until you got comfortable enough to sleep—was because he liked you. A lot.
He shook his head. Rooster will admit he was a lite buzzed, but he also knew these thoughts were a constant thing on his mind. You are a constant thought on his mind. He'd thought about how it'd be for the two of you to get along all the time, not only when you were piss drunk or celebrating something.
He has to get up—your perfume is intoxicating.
"No, stay." Did he hear you correctly?
"Wh-What?"
"Stay, Rooster, sleep with me. Please, don't go." Your words are slightly muffled by your pillow.
"That's the alcohol speaking, sweetheart. You're going to kill me in my sleep once you realise who I am." The spark of hope he had, dies as soon as speaks these words out loud.
"N-No. I promise. Come cuddle me. I'm cold."
You don't need to say it twice. To hell with this rivalry. His house, his bed, his shirt, his rules.
Rooster stands up and quickly undresses, leaving him with just his boxers. Under the covers, your body radiates an insane amount of warmth, and all he wants to do is cuddle you as you had asked.
But he has to confirm you want to be this close to him. "Are you sure you want me this close to you? Cuddling you?" His voice holds uncertainty.
You hum. "I wouldn't want it to be anyone else," you say, so he puts his arm around you, pulling you close.
One thing's for sure, Bradley thinks, his eyes drooping, shit's going to get real in the morning.
