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roosterforme · 2 months

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In the Line of Duty | Rooster x Reader

Summary: During preparations for a dangerous mission, Bradley finds comfort in writing his thoughts down for his unborn child to eventually read. There's always a chance that he won't make it back, and his final plans involve safeguarding the most important item he brought on his deployment with him.

Warnings: Angst, deployment, pregnancy topics

Length: 2800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Bradley was in the same tiny room with the same seven people for the nineteenth day in a row. He was sweating, too aware of his surroundings. He could hear Reuben breathing next to him. He could hear Admiral Turner's wristwatch counting off every second. He could hear the plans being laid out, but he could barely focus on them.

"The political climate is rapidly changing," the admiral said. "This bombing run is essential, however it will undoubtedly lead to a hostile environment for our allies. Getting the timing just right is essential to a successful mission."

He'd been telling the aviators the same things for days, and while Bradley knew somebody's best interest was at heart, he wasn't really sure it was his. Or Reuben's. Or anybody's in this fucking claustrophobic room. But what choice did he have but to sit here in his flight suit, reeking of jet fuel until he was released?

"Also," Admiral Turner said, his voice laced with exhaustion, "we'll be keeping a close watch on the weather. If you fly this mission, it's going to be a rough takeoff and an even rougher landing. And that's not even mentioning the elements you'll encounter in the air."

Bradley could feel it. The aircraft carrier was a massive vessel, nothing like a cruise ship or anything smaller. It was built to withstand typhoons and hurricanes, but he could still feel it. The movement was getting worse by the hour now. There were deckhands and petty officers walking around with seasickness bags. People were running from the mess hall left and right. The only thing that could be said of this small group of aviators in this tiny ass room was that professional fighter pilots had all traces of motion sickness eliminated from their bodies during flight training, never to be heard from again. He wasn't uncomfortable, but he could still feel it.

"And with that final precaution, I've made my selection for the three pilots who will fly when I say it's time to go." Bradley knew it in his bones even before he heard the admiral say, "Vandal. Patches. Rooster. Everyone else will remain on standby. You're all dismissed."

As he stood, Reuben stuck his fist out. "Congrats, man," he said, and Bradley reached out as well to bump fists. Being chosen was an accomplishment; Bradley always wanted to be chosen. He always wanted to perform to the best of his ability. But his thoughts were so heavy now, filled with new hopes and fears.

"Thanks, Payback," he replied, following his friend from the room and into the noisy reprieve of the cool hallway. There were people rushing around as the two of them made their way to the mess hall. "But if I have to sit in that room for another day, I'm going to lose my mind."

Reuben laughed as he started to load a tray with food. "I love how the weather is too bad for us to do any training runs, but in the same sentence, we're told to be ready to fly a mission in this. It's like they're steering us right into the worst of the storm."

They were. Bradley could tell they were. There was something strategic about the open water location, but they were absolutely heading into the worst of it. He just hoped it would clear up before he was called out on deck to fly.

"It's a good thing I haven't barfed in a Super Hornet since that very first time," he said, also piling food that he knew would taste like cardboard onto a plate.

"This shit sucks," Reuben muttered, biting into a roll once they reached an empty table. "We got any more of your wife's cookies back in the bunk?"

Bradley smiled as he looked at the questionable meal in front of him. "A few." He bit into the steak and grimaced. Everything you cooked at home was better than this. He'd trade his whole plate of food right now for half of a grilled cheese sandwich made by your hands. Just thinking about it had his stomach growling louder. "You already ate most of them."

Reuben popped another roll into his mouth and chewed it up before saying, "Rooster, you've got a hot lieutenant commander who can cook for a wife. And a baby on the way. Come on, man. The least you can do is spare some more of those cookies."

Once he let his thoughts drift, Bradley knew it would take hours to get focused on his job again, but he couldn't help it. When he left home, you looked the same as you always did. You'd been complaining about your weight gain and bloating for weeks, but you looked just perfect to him. He wanted to get back home to see if you had a bump yet. He wanted to get home and talk to the Nugget. But he'd already been gone for three weeks, and he hadn't been given a single chance to call or FaceTime with you.

He hated having no idea how your most recent doctor's appointment went. There were probably new ultrasound photos sitting right on the kitchen counter, but it could be weeks before he got to see how much the Nugget grew since last time. He should be a home, catering to your every whim and building the massive jungle gym for the backyard.

"Are you excited?" Reuben asked, breaking through his thoughts. "You've got what, like five more months to go before you're a dad?"

"One hundred and eighty-six days until the due date," Bradley replied with a grin. "And yeah, I'm pretty fucking excited. It's all I can think about." He tried to finish all of the food, but he set his plate aside and said, "Let's go eat some of those cookies."

An hour later, Bradley was sitting in his bunk, nibbling on the rationed baked goods while Reuben snored across the room. He took this opportunity to get out the pink and blue striped notebook which he affectionately referred to as the Nugget notebook. He'd filled half of it with his musings, and he figured it would be full by your due date. It was silly, just his random thoughts and some sporadic story telling, but he liked the idea of his kid having all of this to look at later. He uncapped his pen, jotted down the date, and started writing what was on his mind.

You'll never guess where I am right now. No really. It would be impossible, because even I don't really know where I am! But it's somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, I know that for sure. And while I'm really, really far away from you and your mom right now, the two of you are all I can think about....

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The weather was so bad a few days later that the gym was closed. Bradley and Reuben stood in front of the locked door in their gym clothes looking at each other.

"This is fucking wild," Bradley muttered, deprived of the only activity he could think of to keep himself busy. The hallways were pretty empty at this time of night, but everything still felt more deserted than usual. The dining menus had been pared down, presumably because half of the kitchen staff was too seasick to make everything. He was starting to feel anxious. "Let's go workout in the bunk and then finish the cookies."

"Sounds good," Reuben replied. They took turns churning out sets of fifty push ups while the other ate a cookie. They did this until they were both sweating and all of the cookies were officially gone.

"Now what the fuck are we supposed to do?" Bradley asked, but any response was cut off by a knocking on the door. He jumped up, glanced at Reuben, and then opened the door for a petty officer.

"Bradshaw?"

"Yeah?"

"You requested a FaceTime call? Report to the lounge in thirty minutes."

"Thanks," he said, heart beating wildly as he closed the door. He rushed around the room, grinning and grabbing everything he'd need to take a quick shower.

Reuben just laughed and said, "Please thank her again for the cookies."

"Will do," Bradley replied, making a mad dash for the showers. If he did the math correctly, he figured it was between four and five o'clock in the morning back home in San Diego. He hated calling you in the middle of the night, especially when you were pregnant and exhausted, but he knew you'd forgive him. And he desperately needed to see your face and hear your voice.

His hair was still damp when he jogged along the quiet corridors toward the lounge and took a seat in front of one of the computers. He quickly entered his credentials followed by your phone number, and then he waited and waited. "Shit," he muttered, gripping the edge of the table, afraid the call was going to ring through and then cut off. But then he heard you screech his name and saw you as you reached for your glasses while the light from the lamp on your nightstand illuminated your face.

"Bradley!" you practically screamed again, your voice scratchy from sleep. "Roo! Are you okay?"

"Hey, Baby Girl," he said, feeling calmer than he had in weeks as you juggled your phone around and tried to sit up fully in bed. "I'm fine. Sorry it's so late."

"No, no, no, this is perfect!" you insisted, rubbing your eye behind your glasses as you tried to stifle a yawn. "This is great."

Bradley laughed and said, "I miss you so fucking much. Wish I was in bed right there with you."

"Me too," you insisted, and he could see the sincerity on your face. "It got chilly here tonight, and Tramp isn't as snuggly as you are."

He wanted to kiss you. He wished he could somehow dive through the screen and end up next to you where you'd pull him right into your arms. His voice was just a whisper as he said, "Tell me about the Nugget."

Your smile was soft, and you bit your lip. "Dr. Morris said the Nugget looked great when I was there two weeks ago."

"Two weeks ago," he groaned, rubbing his rough hands along his face. "Sweetheart... I already missed so much." When he looked at the screen again, you were out of bed and on the move. "Where are you going?"

You flipped on the hallway light and said, "To get the ultrasounds to show you. I left them on the kitchen counter."

The fact that he knew that's where they would be made him smile. When you propped your phone up next to the stove and turned on the light, he felt tears stinging his eyes. You held up one of the photos so he could see the baby, and he had to blink past his blurry vision. "There's my Nugget," he said, voice thick with emotion as you held up a second image. "Fucking cutest baby I've ever seen."

Your laughter sounded beautiful as you showed him a third one. "I liked this one the best. I think it looks like the baby is waving hello."

"Shit," he gasped. "You're right. I can't wait to wallpaper our bedroom with copies of these."

You pulled the baby picture away, and he could see your face again as you said, "You're probably not even joking."

"I'm definitely not even joking."

You leaned on the counter and got a little closer to your phone as you said, "Another week or so, and I can go in for an anatomy scan."

Now Bradley felt like crying for a totally different reason. "You get to find out if the Nugget is a boy or a girl."

"Yeah," you said with a nod. "But I don't really want to do that without you there too."

Bradley looked at your beautiful face and the perfect curve of your cheek. He imagined a little baby in your arms with the same flawless features. "I wish I could get home in time to hold your hand and find out in person. But you know I don't care one way or the other. The only nice thing is that we can start narrowing down baby names soon. I actually wrote down a few that I kind of like in the Nugget notebook earlier."

Your smile was brilliant as you told him, "I can't wait to read all of your notebook entries. And if you're not home for my next appointment, I'll be practically vibrating with anticipation until I get to tell you if it's a boy Nugget or a girl Nugget."

Bradley opened his mouth to say he couldn't wait to come home and spend a full day curled up with both of you. He was about to ask you to pull his UVA shirt up and let him see what your belly looked like now. But the lounge door swung open so hard, it sounded like it was going to fall off the hinges.

"Bradshaw!" barked Admiral Turner. "It's time. Get into your flight suit."

"Yes, Sir," he said before glancing back down to see your face as you started to cry.

"You have to go," you sobbed.

"I do," he said quickly. "Right now. Listen, I love you. More than anything. You and the baby both, okay? I love you."

"I love you, too," you sobbed as your lips trembled. "So much."

"I'll be home soon," he promised, even though he knew he couldn't guarantee anything of the sort. "I love you."

After he ended the call, he ran back to the bunk where Reuben was already in his flight suit and pulling on his boots. It was late enough now that it had to be dark outside, so he was either about to fly another mission without the use of one of his senses, or they were sending him out at first light. Either way, he knew what he had to do, so he pulled his own flight suit on with shaky hands.

The call with you had calmed his nerves right up until the point when he had to abruptly end it. What he wouldn't give to be back home within a week. He'd drive you to the appointment in his Bronco and hold your hand the whole time. Dr. Morris would let you know if he was going to be the dad to a daughter or a son. His little Nugget.

"You ready?" Reuben asked as Bradley finished lacing up his boots.

He looked up at his friend as he stood. "Actually, no," he said, pulling his duffle out from under his bed. He started rooting through it as he said, "I need you to potentially do me a favor."

"Sure," Reuben replied, "but we gotta get to the meeting room now, Rooster."

"I know," he mumbled in response as his hands connected with the most important thing he had with him. He held up the pink and blue notebook, his voice calm in spite of his nerves as he said, "Just real quick, you see this? I need you to take this back to my wife if anything happens to me."

His friend was silent for a beat before he said, "Alright. I can do that."

Bradley's fingers tightened around the spiral binding holding together all of his thoughts about fatherhood and how much he loved his unborn child. And now his voice shook a bit as he said, "This is very important to me."

Reuben nodded and said, "Understood. I promise I'll take care of it if the need arises."

"Thank you." Bradley kissed the striped cover and propped the notebook up against his pillow, giving it one last look before he followed Reuben from the bunk.

At first light, Bradley made his way out onto the carrier deck through the rain and whistling wind. The mission was on. The weather was miserable, but the plethora of Naval officers deemed this the best opportunity they were going to get to help their allies.

It was time. Time for Bradley to trust himself. And if he failed, he trusted Reuben to take the notebook back to San Diego and get it into the hands of his wife. Then you'd take care of the notebook for the Nugget. Because if there was one person who was never going to let him down, it was you.

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I can't deal with how much I've been hurting my own feelings with these two. Should we start a new series? Would that be okay? A tragic, new series? Thank you for reading about and loving them! Please stay tuned. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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ddejavvu · 10 months

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mei! can you write a little hangman trying to corral and take care of his drunk gf?? im a lil tipsy rn and thinking abt it

tw for mentions of getting sick

"Bradshaw," Jake taps his fellow aviator on the shoulder, two beers in hand, "Where's my girlfriend?"

"Phoenix took her to the bathroom," Bradley informs Jake, "She was feeling a little queasy, I think."

"Shit," Jake groans, shoving both beers into Bob's unsuspecting hands. The WSO blinks bewilderedly, but passes the drinks to Fanboy and Payback when they invite him over to the dartboard.

Jake shoulders his way through the crowd, beelining for the women's restroom and slapping a hand over his eyes before pushing the door open.

"I'm not trying to see anything," He calls out, standing in the doorway, "I just want to know if my girlfriend is in here."

He hears a distressed groan from you to his left, and Phoenix calls out, "It's just us, Hangman. You can come in and open your eyes."

He does as instructed, finding you crouched on the floor inside the third stall. Phoenix is behind you, your hair gathered back into her hands as you hover expectantly over the toilet.

"Nothing yet," Phoenix fills your boyfriend in, "I think it's less about the booze and more about the bottomless fries."

"Gotcha," Jake nudges her away to take her place, swooping your hair up again when it falls over your face, "You've been snackin, huh baby?"

"I didn't eat that many," You swear, but Jake knows practically any amount of the bar's greasy french fries can be vomit-inducing, "I want- I need water."

"I got it," Phoenix heads for the door, "Don't let her eat any more, Hangman!"

Jake's confused until you reach for your purse and retract a napkin stuffed with fries.

"Hey- hey! No," He takes them before you can eat any of them, chucking the handful into the toilet to deter you, "Baby, what are you doing? Those made you sick."

"But they're so good," You lament, "Jake, they've got the garlic salt on 'em, and- and I want more!"

"But they're too greasy for you to handle right now," He smooths a hand down your back, "Baby, you can't eat those when you've been drinkin', that's why we're in here. You can have some on Friday night, m'kay? You can be DD."

"I'm not even sick anymore," You grumble, all of a sudden struggling to your feet. Jake backs out of the stall so that you can stand, but your drunk mind seems to envision a velcro patch covering Jake's chest, and you stick your own matching one to it to throw your arms around his neck.

"I want food," You inform Jake, and he leans in to kiss you despite your beer-breath, "I want something big, and- and greasy, and meaty, and-"

"How about pancakes?" Jake offers, ringing his hands around your waist in case you decide you're going to lean your full weight on him, "We can head to Denny's, it'll only be a five minute drive."

"Do they put garlic salt in their pancakes?" You wonder, gazing at Jake like he's a prophet. He's not, but he thinks he knows the answer anyway.

"Uh," He chuckles slightly, glancing at the door when Phoenix returns, a glass of water in her hands, "I don't think so, darlin'. Here, drink that," He pats your back, releasing his hold on you so that you can take the cup from Phoenix, "All of it, honey, then we'll head for Denny's. Okay?"

"Mhm," You nod around the rim of the glass, the sound echoing slightly as you gulp down the water.

"Takin' her for pancakes," Jake locks eyes with Phoenix, "I'm gonna go get her purse, can you supervise?"

"Hurry up," She nods towards the door, "Fanboy's a nosy drunk, I'm pretty sure he already rooted through her stuff and found a tampon."

"Christ almighty," Jake scoffs, storming out while you chug down the rest of the water in your glass. He does, in fact, find Fanboy seated by your purse, inspecting a plastic-wrapped tampon with bewildered eyes.

"It comes out of the plastic, dipshit," Jake demonstrates, popping the applicator off and stuffing it back on after they've gotten a good look, "Phoenix was right, you are nosy. You wanna inspect her lipstick, too?"

"Oh please, we see that all the time." Rooster drawls, yanking at Jake's collar and revealing a deep pink kiss mark against the base of his neck. The pilot grins beneath his mustache, collecting the coins from your wallet that Fanboy had counted to occupy himself and handing them off to Jake, "Just be lucky he didn't go through your wallet, Hangman, he would have found those nudes you keep in there."

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #hangman fanfiction #hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x y/n #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader

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crappymixtape · 1 year

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endless summer

steve’s pool is always full during the indiana summers and he loves his friends, but he just wants you • *18+ only | ( 2.8k, smut, fluff, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

E N D L E S S S U M M E R 🎶 i would die 4 u, art school girlfriend

“Hey, hey. None of that shit in my pool!” Steve was standing on the deck with a hand on his hip, arm waving about as he yelled at Dustin and Lucas who were dragging a half-empty pizza box closer to the edge of the pool.

“We’re hungry!” Dustin protested indignantly.

“Yeah, so hungry,” Lucas added, still dragging along the pizza box slowly as if Steve wouldn’t catch him.

“No, no, no. Get that outta here,” Steve was already around the other side of the pool and snatching the box away from Lucas’ grabby hands, tossing it up onto the patio table. “Children,” he shook his head at both younger boys.

Whatever, was mumbled back to Steve followed by a couple of hidden middle fingers, but the heat was enough to stall any real arguing and before long everyone slipped back into the cool water, lazily floating in the hot Indiana summer.

No one knew what day of the week it was, you only knew when you had to work next – not today – and time didn’t matter. All anyone wanted to do was spend time with each other, normal time, not running-away-from-flesh-eating-bats-time, and it felt perfect. You wished you could stay like this forever.

Stretched out on a lounger, you were the picture of summer wearing a tangerine bikini, a stolen pair of Steve’s aviators, and camped out next to a cooler full of beer and Coke. Whenever you felt your skin protesting against the sun you’d jump into the pool to cool off, but hurried right back to your chair after.

Dustin, Lucas, Mike and Will had spent most of the day trying to shove Max and El in the water, but were thwarted almost every time. I mean, c’mon, it’s El. Like she could’t sense it? Robin and Eddie found their little patch of shade under the only tree in the backyard and passed a joint back and forth until their eyes were glassy and heavy, lips permanently curved into lazy smiles. And Steve? Well. What Steve wanted to be doing and what he was actually doing were two very different things.

He couldn’t help his lifeguard instincts around the pool, sniping at the kids over all kinds of shit – out of love, obviously – but every single time he turned away it was to look at you.

You. Wearing his sunglasses. Your tangerine bikini hugging your curves just right, not leaving much to the imagination. The scent of your coconut sunscreen and citrus shampoo mixed with chlorine and Cherry Coke teasing him every time he walked by, it was almost painful.

Then, finally, the others hauled themselves out of the pool, tired from the heat and shoving each around and playing chicken and summer. You grinned watching as Mike and Lucas both sleepily settled their heads into El’s and Max’s laps atop their towels. Dustin and Will were off talking about Suzie and their next D&D campaign. And Robin and Eddie…well. They were there, but not there, and Steve had picked up the pool net to scoop out the few stray bits of crap the others had dragged into the water.

God. It was like he existed for summer. Like he was made for it. His skin all golden, kissed by the sun and dotted in freckles. Hair, just a touch lighter than it was in the winter, hanging across his dewy forehead. The muscles in his arms tensing and relaxing as he pushed and pulled the pool net through the water. Turquoise swim shorts dripping water, plip plip plip on the patio, clinging to his legs. Sunglasses perched on his head so that he couldn’t hide it if he snuck glances of you over there wearing his aviators.

You could feel his gaze wander up your long legs, your thighs, the soft curve of your hips, that damn tangerine top. And when you lifted a hand to take off your glasses, the grin you gave him was almost cruel. “Looking for something, Harrington?” you called across the patio.

Despite his tanned skin, the flush that rose in his cheeks could be seen from where you were sitting. “What?” fell out of his mouth, dumb in the summer sun, and he propped himself up against the pool skimmer, clearly caught. But then he recovered, just so very Steve. “Just admiring the view,” he gave you a grin of his own and it was your turn to blush.

Biting in your lower lip you put his aviators aside and smirked. “Nice day, hm?” you snarked, swinging your legs over the side of the lounger to stand.

“Oh, definitely a heat advisory in effect,” Steve teased back, discarding the skimmer on the patio at his feet, finally unable to keep himself away from you any longer.

Walking with a purpose he closed the gap between the two of you and took your face in his hands and pressed a heady kiss to your mouth, catching your lower lip between his. You tasted like popsicles and Cherry Coke.

“What was that for?” you murmured against his lips, his hands still holding onto your cheeks as your hands wandered up to rest on his chest.

“For not eating pizza in the pool,” he grinned against you as he went in for another kiss and then leaned in close, his lips to your ear, “I forgot something inside.”

It was so hot, the sun beating down on both of you, but you shivered at his words as goosebumps trailed along your neck. Laughing you tilted your head so that you could meet his gaze and when your eyes met your grin softened and fell. Steve’s eyes. Deep pools of caramel swimming with tiny flecks of hazel and gold. Long brown lashes sweeping his cheeks. Steve. He only had eyes for you.

“I’ll come with you,” your voice was barely above a whisper as you felt a heat rising in your core that had absolutely nothing to do with the hot Indiana sun, and without hesitation his hand was tangling with yours, pulling you through the slider door and up the stairs.

Steve kicked the door shut as you both tumbled into his room and he caught your lips in another kiss before pressing more down your jaw, your neck, to the little hollow behind your ear.

It was hot, the air in his room upstairs was warm and thick and his hands were everywhere all at once. Wandering across the small of your back, trailing the length of your arms, tugging your hips into his. It all made you dizzy, but you kept up.

Wrapping your hands around the back of his neck, you spun him around and pushed him down onto his bed. His eyes went wide for a split second, surprised at the show of confidence, but he came back down from it and grinned up at you. “So damn pretty,” he murmured and you knew he meant it.

“I could say the same to you,” you purred before diving down against him, your bodies finally pressing together, skin meeting skin around your bikini and his trunks. It felt electric. You’d both wanted nothing more after watching each other in the heat, dripping with the glittering turquoise of the pool, longing to look, to touch, to feel.

A groan escaped him as you trailed kisses along his shoulder and up against his stubbled jaw before settling your mouth on his, lightly pulling on his lower lip.

“Been wanting to do this all day,” he mumbled, fingers fumbling with the tie of your top, cinched snug against your body. As it came undone it fell down onto his chest and he stopped short, hands holding onto your waist for dear life. He looked at you like you were the only thing that existed in that moment. You were the only thing that existed in that moment. “Damn,” it was almost reverent, in awe of you. Every curve, every dip, the very softness of you.

Giving him a small smile you leaned down, brushing your lips against his ear, and simply whispered his name. Pulling back the look you gave him shattered any kind of control he’d been grasping onto and he loosed a heavy breath.

In one fell swoop Steve lifted you off of him easily, tossing you down on the bed before bringing his needy mouth to your sun kissed skin again, body meeting yours. You could feel him against you, could feel much he wanted you, and the heat pooling between your legs told you you wanted him just as much.

Steve bit your shoulder gently and he smirked when you sucked in a gasp. “Shit,” you hissed, half laughing half moaning at the kisses he started trailing down your chest and along the soft curve of your breasts.

His face moved down your body, mouth touching every bit of you he could, and then he paused and flicked his eyes up to look at you. “What?” his tongue ran along his lower lip as he grinned, knowing full well what he was doing to you.

Brow furrowing you propped yourself up on your elbows and opened your mouth to reply, but it promptly clamped shut when he slipped his mouth over your nipple, eliciting another moan from your lips. Your head fell back against the sheets as your hands moved to tangle in his hair. “Want you,” was all you could manage, your lips parted as your breath hitched in your throat.

“I know,” Steve’s voice was low, rough, and the grin he’d given you was long gone, pupils blown wide – fuck, he wanted you too. He pushed himself up for only as long as it took to yank his trunks off, his fingers deftly untying your bikini bottoms before tugging them out from under your ass and throwing them unceremoniously to the floor.

Standing at the edge of the bed he stopped and took in the vision you were, all soft curves and tan lines and freckles. Coconut sunscreen and cherry red lips. He leaned forward and ran his hands up your calves, hooking his palms behind your knees, and pulled you to the edge of the bed as he knelt down. Steve couldn’t take his eyes away from yours even as his hands moved to spread your legs apart, thumbs pressing into your thighs.

His fingers swept inward, slipping against the slick between your legs and you saw his eyes flutter closed for a second as he touched you, felt you, jaw clenching as he groaned, “So wet baby, is that for me?”

“Mhmm,” your mumbled yes was tangled up with another moan as he slipped first one finger then two inside of you, his thumb taking up a slow, languid pace as it traced circles over your clit. Steve was so good to you. Took care of you. You came first, always.

He easily found a rhythm as his fingers slipped in and out, in and out, in and out. It was wrecking you and as he picked up the pace your whimpers grew to moans despite biting down on your bottom lip. “You’re so good, baby,” he pressed kisses to your inner thigh, “Want you to come for me.”

Your heart was fluttering in your chest, like a hummingbird caught in your ribcage, frantic and seeking release. One hand still tangled in his hair, the other desperately clinging onto a fistful of sheets as you felt yourself racing closer to the edge. He made you feel so good, his fingers were so good, but he was too far away. You wanted him on you, crushing into you, fucking you.

“Steve,” breathless you begged, “Need you.” And he slowed, knowing exactly what you wanted. What you needed.

“Yeah, okay baby,” he reassured you, climbing over the top of you as he fumbled in his nightstand drawer and grabbed a condom, tearing the foil between his teeth and thumb. Kneeling with a leg on either side of your hips he slid it over his length, pumping his hand up and down a few times before fitting himself between your legs. You were so wet, sweet like honey, and his heart was pounding in his chest when he looked up into your eyes.

He slowly eased himself into you, feeling how tight you were on him, and he let out a groan. “Jesus Christ,” his eyes squeezed shut as he bottomed out, you felt so fucking good, but he quickly opened them again to look down at you. “Okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you felt your body slowly relax as you adjusted to the way he filled you, letting out a sigh, the most perfect melody to his ears, “M’okay.”

ALifting a hand to gently brush your hair away from your dewy forehead he took you in. “So pretty,” he whispered, "So damn beautiful." And then started rocking into you, your hips rising to meet him with each thrust. Slow at first, his forehead falling down to meet yours, one hand holding him over you as the other tangled your fingers with his.

“Oh shit,” Steve hissed as he picked up the pace, both of you panting with the effort as you pushed each other closer and closer to your breaking point. You looked up at him as he fucked into you, his pretty lips parted as he sucked in breaths, moving faster and faster chasing his high.

Letting your hand go he moved his fingers back down to your clit and moved them in slick, heavy circles and the moan you loosed then almost shattered him. “Oh–oh god, Steve, I’m gon-gonna come,” you were gasping for air, as the movements of his fingers grew messy and faster, wanting you to find release before he did, your name leaving his lips over and over like a prayer. And then something in you snapped and your hips bucked heavy against his, your hand flying up to hold onto his bicep like a lifeline as each wave of your climax washed over you.

“Fuck, me too, so close,” Steve’s face almost looked pained as his movements grew hurried and uneven, and then finally his rhythm broke too and his lips parted as his breath hitched in his throat. He finished fast as you clenched around him, guiding him up and over the edge and slowly he rocked his hips to a stand still, both of you messy and sweaty and wrecked.

Letting his head fall forward Steve buried his face in you, pressing light kisses to your collarbone, the crook of your neck, your cheek. He smirked, exhaustion creeping over both of you, and brought his lips to yours, “It’s that damn bikini.”

Laughing you slowly moved to cup his face in your hands and shook your head. “Mental note to wear it more often,” your own little grin tugged up at the corners of you lips as you pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Steve laughed, but it was cut short as he eased out of you and collapsed onto the bed next to you, the fan on the ceiling pushing the warm, thick, summer air around his room. Resting your head on his chest as he settled, you listened to his heartbeat thud, thud, thud against your ear, your breathing slowly evening out along with his.

He ran his fingers through your hair idly, humming low and content, and kissed the top of your head. “So–” he started, voice tired and gravely, but happy, “I…I wanted to tell you that…uh, what I mean is…shit.”

“What is it?” propping yourself up against his chest you looked at him, concern knitting your brow together.

He caught the worry in your eyes and quickly shook his head, his hand finding yours and turning it over to press a kiss to your palm. “No, no nothing bad!” he reassured you quickly, his cheeks flushing pink. “I just,” he sighed, an uncharacteristically nervous laugh escaping him, “I just wanted to tell you I love yo–”

“Steve!”

“It wasn’t my fault–”

“Mike told me to–”

“I did not!”

Voices carried up through the open window cutting Steve off and he jammed his tongue into his cheek. Someone was gonna get it.

“Oh my god, are you kidding me?” irritation gave Steve a second wind and he crossed the room so fast you couldn’t help laughing as you watched his bare ass stop at the window sill. “I’m a little busy here!” he yelled down at the boys, but then you saw his expression change. “Wait, who the hell got pizza in the pool??”

Quiet. Then a barrage of voices.

“Dustin was hungry–”

“I told him it wasn’t allowed, Steve–”

“You know how he is!”

“They’re all lying, Steve!”

Putting both hands over his face he groaned, loud and exaggerated, before letting them drop to his sides. He thought for a moment, then decided he didn’t care and threw his hands up in defeat.

“You know what? You figure it out,” he shouted back down at them and then pulled the sheer curtains shut before coming back to bed.

Laughing he tossed the sheet over both of you, pulling you in close, smiling against your skin, his hands holding you soft and gentle and then he finally whispered against your ear what it was he was trying to tell you all that time.

I love you.

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