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matt-h3w · 3 months

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This mans is so ✨Fine✨ I can't! 😭😭 Annywaysss..... I'm currently stuck on Billy Hargrove fluff, because that shit make me Ahh! You know? (Also it's an actual recipe y'all, if you wanna make cookies 😅) idgaf if you're not ticklish in this you are okay? Okay.

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Imagine you making cookies with Billy tho 🤩🤩

I try to keep references to gender regarding the reader out of the writing because I want any and all genders to be able to read, unless it's requested other wise. Swear warnings

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Billy decided to show up to your house, the only give away that he was even there was the loud sound of his car engine. Other than that, he was completely unannounced, no heads up, no "hey are you free?" Just drove his happy ass to your place because he felt like it. You were in the middle of looking for a decent cookie recipe when you heard him driving down your street. You were already at the door by the time he pulled up into your driveway.

He didn't even get a chance to knock before you opened the door. Giving him a glare, though you both knew damn well you were being more playful than pissed. "Should have called me first Hargrove" you spoke in an angry tone that was very much not genuine. "Ouch, last name basis today babe?" He joked right along with you. He intentionally put emphasis on the word babe because it always made your face heat up.

You two had an odd relationship, you acted like you were together, dates, kisses, 'I love you', but he'd still sleep around. You knew the only reason for it being open ended was because he was scared that if he made it something serious, it'd hurt more to lose you. You weren't saying that it didn't hurt a little bit, hell it hurts a lot that he wouldn't risk the commitment. But you understood why he had that fear.

"You gonna let me in, or are we going to stand here all day sweetheart?" He said, looking at you with those eyes, the eyes that could be and are your downfall. The blue of then makes the sky jealous. They were mesmerizing pools of ice that you'd let yourself get trapped in. You stepped out of his way, inviting him inside. You always noticed the way he seemed to relax when he was with you. The tension between his broad shoulders immediately disappearing.

"Want to help me make cookies?" Your voice was soft, it almost always was when you talked to him, unless you were teasing each other with snarky comments or sarcastic banter. All he did was look at you, pulling you closer, a small but genuine smile gracing his lips and it made you a flustered mess. "Babe, I will always, always, want to do something if it means I get to spend time with you." His voice came out in a deep soothing tone.

You smiled back at him, then placed a kiss on his cheek, and sure he appreciated that, he wasn't fully satisfied, so when you pulled back, he pulled you back in giving you a gentle kiss on the lips. If your face wasn't red already it definitely was now. He always managed to make you blush no matter how long you two were together.

You pulled away from his embrace, returning to your spot in the kitchen, the Californian boy trailing after you, like a lost puppy. He truly was a golden retriever when it came to it. For one, he followed you around, even when you walked around aimlessly (found that out the hard way) and for two well... His hair, Golden curls that made sunsets in Malibu jealous. The natural wave of it challenged even the best of surfing tides.

"Wanna help me find a recipe?" You asked, looking at him, as you rested your elbows on the island counter. He shrugged, wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you from behind. "We can do whatever you'd like" is voice was smooth, like velvet. That's it, velvet cookies, but blue instead of red because red was too basic and predictable. You found yourself flipping through the book till you found it, smiling proudly to yourself.

"Red Velvet?" He asked, with a small chuckle "No, they're gonna be blue" you replied with a snippy tone "My bad, my bad, Blue Velvet, sorry darling" his face was now buried in the crook of your neck as he laughed. "Are you laughing at me?!" The obviously over dramatic tone was purely just to pick on him. "No, nope, Nuh uh, I would never" he continued to laugh, causing you to roll your eyes.

You once again pulled away from his grasp, which he didn't seem to happy about, but you started to gather ingredients. "Babe, can you read the ingredients?" You asked as you opened a cupboard grabbing mixing bowls.

"Yeah, uhm, two and one fourths cups of all-purpose flour, two and a half tablespoons of cocoa powder, one and a half teaspoon cornstarch, three fourths teaspoon of baking soda, one half teaspoon of salt. Eight tablespoons or one stick unsalted butter, six tablespoons of vegetable shortening, one and a half cups granulated sugar, one large egg , one large egg yolk, one and a half teaspoons of white vinegar, one and a half teaspoons pure vanilla extract, food coloring preferably gel, White chocolate chips" he read off the list, he didn't stutter or falter, he read it over smoothly, which was quite impressive.

He read it slow enough that you could gather the ingredients as he went. "I said ingredients, not how much of each, but thank you" you teased, kissing his cheek. "You're just upset I can read better than you can" he jibbed back before giving you an actual kiss, his lips pressed against yours, his hands going to your hips. Once he pulled away, you stuck out your tongue in annoyance. He knew he had won.

The two of you grabbed the proper measuring utensils, not wanting to make any unnecessary clean up. "Okay instructions.... Do, do, do, do" you look over the page sorting the ingredients, dry and wet putting them next to their respective bowls. "You should probably start by preheating the oven" he said, smirking at your behavior. "ever heard of Mise en Place?" You said. "Nerd?" He replied, getting an eye roll in return.

He went to the oven, preheating it to three hundred seventy five degrees fahrenheit. (For people that use Celsius it's about 190 degrees) "okay says we have to line our baking sheets with silicone baking mats then set then aside, but you don't own silicone baking mats so, parchment paper?" He said, obviously guessing on what to use for the replacement. "It also doesn't say what sizes baking sheets or how many so, we'll just have to guess" he grabbed parchment paper, and baking sheets from where you set them. The metal of them making a soft clanging sound when they hit the counter.

You leaned over, reading the next instructions out loud "In a small bowl, combine the flour, cocoa powder, cornstarch, baking soda, and salt... Well the bowl isn't really small, but it'll work" you shrugged, you were using a medium sized mixing bowl putting the ingredients listed on the instructions in, at the instructed amounts. "Hey babe, how much is this supposed to make?" Your voice filled his ears, for some reason it made his heart flutter hearing you refer to him as Babe, "uh-," he quickly checked the yield listed at the top "Two dozen" once again he received a kiss on the cheek.

It was moments like these that made him want to commit to you fully, but he was too scared of losing you completely and it hurting more if he did. "I love you" he whispered out, he didn't even realize he said it, but you definitely heard it. "I love you too Billy" when he realized that he had spoken his thoughts out loud he looked embarrassed, but relaxed when you pulled his close, smiling at him, sharing a soft kiss. He pressed deeper into the kiss, holding you tighter. The oven beeped, signalling it was done preheating, interrupting the moment between you two.

You continued baking, this time he was holding onto you, snuggling his face against your neck. Kissing you every so often whether it was on your cheek, your neck, the top of your head, your shoulder, or your lips, he was showering you with affection. You finished mixing the dry ingredients, pushing them to the side, so they were out of your way. "Okay, with an electric hand mixer, cream together the butter, shortening, and sugar for five minutes. Add in the egg, egg yolk, vinegar, and vanilla and mix for three to five more minutes until smooth and creamy. Add in the food coloring, a tiny bit at a time, until your desired hue is reached." Billy held the bowl still while I mixed it, "Babe, maybe turn the speed down" he spoke, the speed on the mixer was higher than it probably should have been, which was why it was hard to mix and keep the bowl still with one hand for each.

"shhhh, it's faster this way" you mumbled earning a chuckle from the boy behind you. His arms were on either side, caging you in as he held the bowl because you didn't care enough to actually try to keep it still. "Pewp, bloop, blue.... More blue.... Do you think this is enough blue?" you looked back at him, then at the very blue cookie batter. "Yes, it is definitely blue enough" he pressed a kiss on the side of your head, lips trailing down to your neck in an affectionate manner. "Billy..." You whispered receiving only a hum in response.

The feeling of his breath hitting your neck tickled, causing you to move away a bit while a soft squeal. "Billy, that tickles" "yeah? You know what else will tickle?" You knew what he was gonna do, instinctively shutting off the mixer wrapping your arms around yourself to try to create a barrier between him and and your sides. He managed to slide his fingers between spaces that your arms didn't cover, tickling you.

"Ahh- no Billy stop!" You squeaked, trying not to laugh. He continued to tickle you, he had learned how to tell when you genuinely couldn't handle being tickled anymore so he stop. You tried to catch your breath "you prick" you laughed softly. "You know you love me sweetheart" he said holding you close. "Yeah, yeah whatever" you teased, before continuing to finish the cookies. "Add in the dry ingredients and mix on low until combined." The recipe said "Using a 1 and 1/2 tbsp cookie scoop, scoop cookies onto prepared baking sheets a couple inches apart. Press 8 white chocolates chips into each dough ball." "Oh fuck no" you said as you read it while mixing the dough that was started to form. "What?" Billy said clearly amused by your reaction. "It says to place the chips into the dough after making the balls, fuck that shit" you opened the white chocolate chip bag dumping a half cup into the the bowl, mixing it up. You could hear Billy laugh behind you at your antics. You started to divide the dough into balls guessing the size rather than measuring. "I can hear you laughing at me" you said while finishing a row.

"I have no clue what you're talking about" the blue eyed boy said while still laughing. "Mhm, sure" you made a face at him, scrunching your nose. You had finished the rows carefully placing the cookie sheet into the oven "Bake for 8 minutes." he said, for some reason he was still laughing, at this point you weren't sure why. Setting a timer the two of you stood on the kitchen waiting on the cookies.

He pulled you close, whispering to you "I could get used to this" "used to what?" you spoke as you leaned against him. "You, me, just us, doing whatever, it's nice" he was still whispering. "Billy what are you saying" you raised an eyebrow. He had decided in that moment to commit, to you. Fully. You were the one who stood by him, and made him want to be a better person, the one who understood his behavior, even if you didn't agree with it. "I'm saying, I want it to be you and I, It wasn't fair for me to sleep with random girls when you deserved more, you deserved something solid. I want to commit, I mean it"

You felt your heart flutter, he finally said the thing you needed to hear from him most, "about damn time" you laughed trying not to cry, pulling him into a kiss, it was gentle and loving, but this time it was different, it was the first kiss of you and him being together, actually together. It was nice. Your heart warmed, in fact your entire body felt warm, he had the same feeling spread through his body. He didn't regret his decision, he was glad he had done it.

When you pulled away you both had stupid grins, smiling like idiots in love. Because that's what you were, in love. You waited the rest of the time for the cookies to be done. When the were cool enough you shared them with a glass of milk, holding each other close.

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Dear Gods, I'm done 😭 idk why but this took me so long to finish. Goodbye have a good whatever time it is for you 😭😭

#billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #fluff #stranger things #x reader #soft boy hours #stranger things x reader #gn reader #fanfic #strangers to friends #friends to lovers #baking cookies #ramdom

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ginger-grimm · 1 month

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RE-RE-INTRODUCING: MARLOW STILINSKI

Full Name: Marlow Marie Stilinski

Birthdate: February 22nd, 1999

Hair Color: Brown, then blonde

Eye Color: Blue

Species: Werecoyote, Beta (Bitten)

Family: Claudia Stilinski, née Gajos (Mother, deceased), Noah Stilinski (Father), Miecysław “Stiles” Stilinski (Older Brother), Elias Stilinski (Paternal Grandfather)

Love Interest: Liam Dunbar

Friends: Riley Parrish, Coop Harris, Nixie Baker, Bear Wallace, Tilly Cole, Oz Baker, Nina Simms, Mason Hewitt, Corey Bryant, Scott McCall, Malia Tate, Kira Yukimura, Lydia Martin, Derek Hale

Likes: Horror movies, scary stories, true crime, cookies, singing, dancing, cheerleading, scrapbooking, sunsets, movie nights, animals

Dislikes: Liars, not feeling in control, being treated like a child, people not following her advice, sour candy, loud noises, hot weather

Phobias: Snakes, flying

Style: Jeans and sweaters or blouses, sneakers (she hates uncomfortable foot wear), locket with pictures of her family in it, lazy with her makeup looks, hair up or down depending on the heat

Speech: Californian accent, low-pitch voice, gets loud when she’s stressed or annoyed - otherwise pretty much inside voice only

Physical Quirks/Scars: Climbed over a fence when she was a kid, leg got caught on the metal and still has the scar, her eyes glow blue when she’s in werecoyote mode

Personality: Fiercely protective, loving, selfless, salty, family-oriented, anxious, saracstic

Background: Born and raised in Beacon Hills, Marlow has halways been the baby of the bunch - whether that was at home or in her friend group. She was always in need of a little more attention due to her severe panic attacks and BPD. As a child, she was quiet and withdrawn, using her brother’s outspoken demeanor as a shield whenever she felt she needed to. Marlow’s mother Claudia died when she was seven, prompting the little girl to hide her true emotions from everyone. She toughens up and spends more time with her best friend Mason Hewitt, whom she met in kindergarten. When the two are out on a camping trip with Mason’s family, ten-year-old Marlow comes across a scary man with red glowing eyes. He bites her and suddenly her whole life is turned upside down. The night after her first full moon, she wakes up in the ruins of the Hale house, Derek and Laura Hale there to explain the ropes of being a shapeshifter. After Derek leaves town and Laura is murdered by Peter Hale, thirteen-year-old Marlow is left to fend for herself, continuing to hide her new identity from her loved ones. Then her brothers best friend Scott McCall is turned into a werewolf and she tries to help him navigate his new normal while keeping her own predicament under wraps. She is relegated to research duty, having Mason help her under the guise of making up a story. Two years pass and after losses, battles, and goodbyes, Marlow finally starts attending Beacon Hills High School with Mason. Then she meets the new kid Liam Dunbar, and there is a spark. When Liam is bitten by Scott and turned into a werewolf, Marlow is one more incident away from having an anxious breakdown.

Faceclaim: Jenny Boyd

TAGLIST: @waterloou @eddysocs @ocs-supporting-ocs @foxesandmagic @veetlegeuse @decennia @hiddenqveendom @arrthurpendragon @luucypevensie @kentaroranda @noratilney @wordspin-shares @oneirataxia-girl @endless-oc-creations @lucys-chen @andromedalestrange @far-shores @daughter-of-melpomene @bibaybe

#ocappreciation #ocapp #teen wolf oc #oc: marlow stilinski

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song-witch · 11 months

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Make You Feel

Pairing: Taylor Sloane (Ingrid Goes West) x Jess Thayer (Rough Night)

Word Count: 3,126

Warnings: Age Gaps (Jess is 34, Taylor is 25), Pre-Smut, Slight Choking, Spanking, Daddy Kink, Possessiveness, hints of Jealousy, Angst | 18+, Minors DNI

Summary: With a private charity event set to help Jess in the upcoming election, Taylor decides there's not enough fun at the party. It's no more than a publicity stunt, after all.

A/N: This was written for and inspired by @cthulhus-curse! This is our little rarepair and I love them dearly.

Jess sighed upon taking another sip from her martini. She had been listening to this man blabber on for upwards of an hour, yet he hadn’t said a single thing to spark her interest. Had this appearance not been so crucial to her reelection, she thinks she might’ve left hours ago. She probably wouldn’t have shown up in the first place if she were entirely honest.

It was something she hated about being in the public eye. She had to be so conscientious of what she said and did, and even then, it would still be picked apart by people who hated her. Years of self-criticism led to her hard exterior, it was critical as a politician. That didn’t mean she liked it, though.

So she continued to attend these… publicity stunts, for lack of a better term. It was part of the job and for the pretty penny she was paid, she would continue to deal with arrogant, old white men. Even if she was fairly certain she would get wrinkles at the ripe age of 34.

Forcing her mind back to the conversation, Jess swallowed harshly, nodding her head. “I hate to cut this sort, gentlemen, but I do have others to attend to.” The short-haired blonde gave a very fake laugh to accompany her words, as if it would lessen the blow of her leaving. The woman smiled as she stood, allowing their words to filter in and out of her head once again, pushing her way out of the circle she was in.

Filtering through the people who lingered about was easy enough, stepping out into the small, thankfully empty, balcony. Jess set her glass down on the railing, inhaling the sweet crispness of the fall air, her eyes watching the still-setting sun. Despite the fact that it was nearing 8 pm, the sky was painted something akin to a Bob Ross painting, with deep oranges and pinks.

She was thankful for the cool breeze and her cropped hair, meaning all of the wind hit her, rather than her hair. Jess paid no attention to the clicking of heels, knowing there were only a handful of people brave enough to follow her outside. “Fancy seeing you here, miss senator.” And yet, of the ones she expected, the soft Californian Valley Girl of her girlfriend was the least expected.

“Seeing as how we were both invited, fancy is not the word I would use to describe you following me.” Without looking back, Jess brought her glass to her lips, sipping the vodka-based drink. The chill of the air was more present than the one of her lemon drop martini, though she was hardly complaining as she finished it off. “Stalker is more your style.”

“Well excuse me for wanting to make sure my senator girlfriend is okay.” The blonde scoffed, moving to stand next to the older woman. She shivered in her short black number, jacket long forgotten in some coat closet, Malibu Sunset clenched tightly in her hand. Rather than wrap her arms around the taller one as she would in the privacy of their home, she instead sidled up next to her, their arms just barely touching as she set her glass next to the other’s.

Jessica only scoffed, shaking her head. “Stalker.” She whispered with a coy smirk, dropping her elbows to lean against the railing, finally looking at the younger woman. Heels that she insisted on wearing, even though Jess had said otherwise multiple times. It had led to the younger nearly being bent over her knee, only being saved by a call from her Uber driver of all people. She would be the first to say they accentuated her legs, though.

Sweeping up her legs that seemed to go on for much longer than miles, she resisted the urge to reach out and tug her dress down, the material barely reaching midthigh. The material wasn’t an issue. She rather liked seeing the girl in short, silk dresses. The issue was not only how short it was, but how she seemed to parade around, knowing her tits and ass were out. Jess had found it funny at first, given the fact that they were attending a “high-end charity, cocktail event,” whatever that was supposed to mean. As the night progressed, though, the cockiness of the younger woman had only fueled the rage she spent hours mustering away.

“You love it.” Taylor Sloane’s teasing pulled her out of her self-induced reverie, a shit-eating smirk accompanying her features. Her hair waved behind her in the breeze, the sun giving the slight tan she had developed over the summer a soft glow accentuated by her makeup. The angle she was leaning against the railing at made it more than easy to look down her dress, hardly anything covered.

“I don’t love being stalked.” Both had had their fair share of creepy paparazzi on more than one occasion. It wasn’t something they talked about often, though the thought hung heavy in the air. Reaching for her glass, Jess took a long look at the woman, clearing her throat. “And put your tits away.”

Taylor smiled cheekily, seemingly leaning forward even more. It was as if she were trying to get on Jess’ already high-strung nerves, though two could play at that game. “I thought you liked them, Daddy.” She emphasized the final word, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Shut. Up.” Jess held the glass tighter in her grip, turning away from the woman. She left without another word, leaving the younger behind to fix herself. It would still be hours before they would be home, though they were both certain they would see each other again. The moods the two would be in, however, were a lot less certain.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Jess watched as the younger posed against the wall, some man taking photos of her. She knew Taylor was doing it on purpose; the fact that they had made eye contact multiple times was more than enough of an indicator. Yet still, it pissed the senator off beyond comparison, barely thinking it over before she was marching up to the young woman. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Taking pictures. What does it look like I’m doing?” Taylor only rolled her eyes, continuing to pose. She bent forward, much like she had earlier, barely any fabric hiding her tits. A smirk was thrown Jess’ way, a kiss at the man.

“That’s enough. I can take it from here.” Jess reached for the phone, shooing the man away in a move that was less than polite. She pocketed the girl’s phone, stopping the impromptu photo session within seconds. “Let me ask again, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Like I said, taking pictures.” Taylor scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Sure, she had asked a rando to take her pictures in an attempt to get the woman to her, though she wasn’t impressed it had backfired so quickly. She rolled her eyes, blowing air from her pursed lips.

“Taking pictures like a slut?” Jess scoffed, fixing the woman with a glare. Taylor had a tendency to brat out, especially when she wanted attention, though this was unusual, even for her. “We’re at a charity event and you’re slutting yourself out for a random man?”

“Oh please, I wasn’t slutting myself out. You’re just jealous.” Taylor rolled her eyes, reaching up to play with a strand of her hair. She knew she was in trouble, even before they had left the house. Why not play it up a bit? The only thing that could happen would be another punishment, and she was more than willing to pay that price.

“Jealous of what?” Jessica pressed, stepping closer to the woman. Their chests were nearly touching, the world around them fading to soft blurs. In this moment it was only them and the tension between them. She would’ve found it hot if they were at home, though she was far more fed up than amused.

“Jealous of the fact that I’m getting more attention than you.” The word ‘bitch’ mumbled under her breath, squinting her eyes at the woman. She knew those words would do it, by the way the older woman’s body tensed. She took a step closer, their noses now practically touching.

“Quit being a fucking brat.” Jess spit out as she grabbed the dirty blonde’s wrist, stopping her from walking away. As the number of warnings she got went up, the patience the senator had got lower. She was lucky they were at a very public, very important event, or she’d have been bent over hours ago.

“Then quit being a fucking bitch.” Taylor snarled right back, with possibly more venom than needed. She didn’t care, though. There was no reason for Jess to be as pushy as she was. Why couldn’t she take photos to post later if she wanted to?

“Excuse me?” The older grasped her wrist harder as she tried to walk away again, this time not letting her grip loosen. She was shocked to hear those words, especially after the talk they had earlier. Jess glanced around them, assuring they weren’t being watched, before pulling the girl closer. “Would you like to say that again? And watch your fucking attitude.”

“Then you,” Taylor met the woman with the same intensity, the pointer on her free hand coming up to poke at the woman’s chest, “stop being a fucking bitch.” She crossed her arms over her chest, meeting the same intensity that the other woman held. She was fed up. All of her attempts to gain her attention had gone to waste, shrugged off as if she were nothing.

“Let’s go.” Jess would be damned if anyone saw them, too focused on taking care of the girl to even care. She dragged her to the bathroom, practically throwing her inside the small room. “Fucing brat.” The short-haired woman snarled, turning to face the door. She inhaled deeply before turning around, ignoring the ‘what the fuck’ thrown at her.

Jessica locked the door behind her, a sense of cockiness filling her as she did. Taylor would face the consequences of her actions, publicity be damned. “You have about two seconds to apologize before I give you something to whine about.” Her hand almost immediately threaded through the younger’s hair, settling at the base of her skull and pulling upwards.

“Apologize for what? I wasn’t the one being a bitch.” Taylor scoffed, yanking her head back in an attempt to have her hair dropped. It didn’t work and only encouraged the older to pull harder, which in turn made the younger struggle just slightly against her grasp.

“I said: apologize, whore.” Jess grasped her hair harder, a gasp pulled from the younger woman’s throat. She knew how easy it was to rile up the blonde and vice versa. If she wanted to be a bitch, two could play that game.

“Fucking bitch.” Taylor spit at the woman’s heeled feet, actually spit, a flame in her eye that wouldn’t go away. She practically snarled, rolling her eyes and tossing her hair back, effectively pulling the older woman’s hand out of her hair.

“Watch your fucking mouth.” The words just barely resonated with the blonde before her head jerked to the side, falling to her knees, pain blooming throughout her cheek. The same hand that had slapped her, Taylor knew due to the warmth and slight buzzing that seemed to connect them, pulled her face back over and up, not giving her time to even react to the hit. Fire blazed behind her eyes as they stared up at Jess, her chest heaving.

“Cunt.” The speed at which two fingers were forcefully shoved down the younger’s throat was enough to make her choke, the acrylics of the older woman’s nails easily hitting the back of her throat. Despite the fact that Taylor was the best little cocksucker Jess had found, and she had had her fair share of free trials, she loved how easily it was to make her gag. The sound she made was enough by itself to turn her on, though the feeling was exquisite too.

“You keep running that goddamn mouth thinking I’m not going to do anything, huh?” Jess raised both of her eyebrows as her face tilted down just slightly, fixing the younger with a questioning look. Her hand followed where the blonde whipped her head back and forth in an attempt to dislodge her fingers. Even as Taylor’s hands came up to grasp her wrist and push it away, she continued to press forward.

“What? Too dumb to say anything back?” The taller woman faked sympathy, pouting condescendingly. She pushed her fingers forward before pulling them out, a sense of pride filling her as she watched the girl bend forward, hair falling in front of her face as she coughed. With a coo, Jess squatted, reaching through a curtain of blonde hair to tilt her chin up, meeting a pair of rage, and lust, filled eyes.

Taylor glared at the older though her vision swam with a mix of tears and arousal, grinding her teeth together. “Fuck. You.” The influencer spat through her teeth, her chest heaving. She knew she was going to be punished, if Jess’ earlier threats weren’t obvious enough, the unmistakable anger on her face was more than enough to send any man to their knees.

Jess’ nose twitched, her throat tightening as her hand traveled down the blonde’s neck, easily closing against it. “You just don’t fucking learn, do you?” She stood, not letting go of the younger as she did so, instead pulling her up and allowing her to dangle for a moment before dragging her towards the sink. The woman was thrown over the porcelain, her head bouncing off said counter with a resounding thud.

Taylor whimpered at the pain spiraling through her head, attempting to stand and reach for her head, only to be stopped by the politician. Jess easily grabbed the younger’s wrists, holding them behind her back, her free hand pressing down between her shoulder blades. “Don’t even fucking think about it, slut.”

“Ow.” The dirty blonde half whimpered, half moaned against the sink, squirming in her place. She was more than aware of the senator’s hands pushing the skirt of her dress up, a spank accompanying the motion. “What the fuck!” She yelped, though more from shock than pain.

“You wanna act like a fucking slut, you get punished like a fucking slut.” Was all Jess said as her free hand tugged the girl’s lacy thong down, bending over to pick it up and study it for a second. “Fucking pathetic. Getting off on your punishment. Whore.” The cropped-haired woman shoved them in the pocket of her pants, before another slap against the younger’s behind rang out through the room.

“Stop!” Taylor pushed her hips forward, trying to escape the slaps against her ass. It was futile, even if she didn’t want to admit it. Her hands were held behind her and there was no way she could squirm away, not with how high her heels were. It would most likely lead to her toppling over and she didn’t want to hit her head for a second time that night.

“You don’t get a say in this, bitch. So I suggest you start counting before I start over.” Jess threatened, her hand coming down yet again. She waited for Taylor to yelp out the word one, mere seconds before her hand came down again. She never hit the same spot twice, alternating both cheek and power with each hit. It had the younger crying by the twelfth hit, a mess of tears and whimpers.

Jess’ hand came down hard on the blonde’s ass, the sharp resounding slap of skin on skin reverberating through the small bathroom. She waited, curling her fingers until her nails dug into the soft flesh they rested on. “If you sto-” The woman was cut off by a wail from the younger, her form shaking with poorly hidden sobs.

“N-nineteen!” Taylor nearly screamed, rocking between her feet under the other’s harsh gaze. Her entire body shook with how hard she was sobbing, a mixture of tears and snot running down her face. She hardly even cared about how smudged she knew her makeup would be, able to see globs of black streaked across her cheeks, another product of her punishment, no doubt.

“Good.” Was all Jess said before her hand came down one last time, landing squarely on the girl’s already sensitive sit spot. She couldn’t care less about how loud they were being, far more focused on beating the brat out of the girl bent over in front of her. She watched with satisfaction as the girl yelped, her body quivering with the way she sunk against the sink. “Number.”

Taylor grasped at the faucet, her knuckles white with how strong she was holding it as tears continued to fall down her cheeks. “T-” She was cut off by a sob, pressing her face against her arm. It took her another sob before she spit the word out. “Twenty.”

“Good girl, Taylor.” Jess gently pulled the girl off of the sink, gathering her in her arms before sitting on the floor. Taylor clung to her almost instantly, her face slotting against her neck, fists grasping at her shirt. “It’s all done, baby. You’re okay.” The older woman murmured against her ear, holding her tight against her body.

“Good girl, Tay. You’re my good girl.” Jess hushed the girl, running her fingers through the loose curls cascading down her back. The younger continued to sob, her entire body flinching with how violent they were. Jess rocked back and forth just slightly, attempting to soothe her in any way possible. “My good girl, taking her punishment so well. Such a good girl.”

The short-haired woman swayed until the younger’s sobs subsided, though she didn’t let her go right away. “Look at me, Tay.” Jess prompted softly, using the hand still carding through long hair to gently tilt her head back. She waited until the dirty blonde did so, smiling softly at the girl. “You’re such a good girl, Taylor, even if you were acting up today. Now, you’re gonna get your Uber and I’ll meet you at home, okay baby girl?”

"Okay.” Taylor hiccuped softly, pushing her chin back into the woman’s neck. Neither of them cared about how much time passed, sitting on the floor of the bathroom, merely basking in each other. Jess ultimately had to force the younger up, helping her clean her makeup before sending her off, a kiss against her lips as a silent promise that she wouldn’t be long.

#Taylor Sloaned x Jess Thayer #taylor sloane #jess thayer #ingrid goes west #rough night

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the-pink-thumb · 5 months

Text

Of nuggets, thoug cookies and cherry cobblers

Read in AO3

For @apomaro-mellow , hope you enjoy :)

@steddieholidayexchange

Rating: Teens and Up

No archive warnings apply

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson,

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington's Parents, Wayne Munson

Additional tags: Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Meet the Family, Parent Steve Harrington, Parent Eddie Munson, Foster Parents, Cooking, cooking together

Words: 5125

Summary: Eddie Munson is quite happy with his own family, with Steve Harrington at his side. But when the Harrington family makes a call, he has to choose between run away or face them!

Fic under the cut!

Six nuggets, a motorhome to cross the country and learn to surf near the ocean.

Steve Harrington raised his eyes to the sea, where the sun was slowly going down, and then checked the barbecue he was cooking near the porch.

Well, the motorhome was there, parked near that Californian paradise. The nuggets were only two, at the moment, and Eddie was soaking them with the waves in the shallow water. The twins were crying for pleasure every time the foam caught them, and Eddie was laughing from the top of his lungs. Then he raised his sight to Steve, who waved at him, and rapidly he collected the kids, ignoring their protest, and then took them one under each arm like potato sacks, made them giggling and squawking under the clean water shower.

Eddie took the towels and dried the kids. He ruffled their golden hair and then applied them some aftersun and dressed them.

Steve set the camping table and turned the ribs on the barbecue one last time.

“Ehi, pretty boy” said Eddie, finally drying himself too, with the towel on his head to make everybody laugh. He leaned for a kiss and hugged Steve’s waist. “How’s the cook?”

“Pretty ready,” smiled Steve, enjoying the salty warmness of his boyfriend. “Could you kindly prepare the salad?”

Eddie nodded and called the kids. They entered the motorhome and he heard the noises of three little kids preparing the vegetables, giggling and singing silliness.

Only two nuggets, and not even his’. The agency said that, for the moment, they weren’t eligible for adoption, but they’re good for fostering. Kids with problematic parents, disrupted families, dysfunctional homes that would enter the system otherwise. They gave the kids an opportunity of a normal life with foster families and their parents the opportunity to clean up and regain their children’s custody eventually.

For Steve, it was the same as raising a “real” child. They already fostered a six year old girl for eight months, until her father could complete the program and claimed custody again. Now they were raising those four year old twins, Bobby and Becky, whose former addicted mother was trying to rehabilitate, stay clean and provide a stable home for them. They were together for almost a year already, Steve knew, and hoped, that they could return with their mommy but this didn’t prevent him from loving them dearly as they were his. And for Eddie it was the same. They finally had good financial stability, a house and a lot of love to give away, and they gladly tried to help kids in need.

“Good, wash your hands, little worms!” Ordered Eddie, putting the salad on the table. Steve was collecting the ribs on a plate and put them too on the table.

The kids washed their hands obediently and sat at the table. Eddie served the food to them and they start eating, trying to talk at the same time and tell Steve their afternoon at the beach. Steve barely understood a word, but he was happy at the moment. Eddie put his hand on his’, smiling tenderly to him, and they looked together at the sunset on the vast ocean.

Eddie showered the kids and put them in the bed. He read them a story and Steve went to kiss them goodnight after cleaning the dinner.

It was really odd and curious that Eddie, who had the greatest difficulty following any sleep routine as a teen, was the most responsible of the parents. He was strict with the kids; he knew how to make them obey, he made them respect their routine and stop every fuss; he wasn’t inflexible, he could always follow the rules without being the bad cop, Steve really couldn’t say how he did it. The kids, especially the twins, had respected his so-called authority from the beginning, and Eddie was able to absolutely spoil and discipline them at the same time.

Every time Steve thought about it, he fell in love even more.

Eddie reached him in their chair under the moonlight, lighting a cig.

“So, you’re still convinced of it?” He said to Steve, after a good drag and a big breath.

Steve tossed the ash of his own cig and nodded.

“Why not, Eds?”

“You want to discuss it again?”

Steve sighed and took a drag, sipping his beer then. “Nope. You’re right. Yes, I want to go to the party, as I kept saying for days and days, so, yes, I’m still convinced”.

Eddie turned his head and grumbled. “I hate when you do so”.

“Then don’t make me”

Eddie grumbled again, put his cig off and went inside the caravan. Steve heard him changing, then the noise of the camping bed under his weight, and the pages of his journal angrily opened. He sighed one last time, finished the beer and went to bed too.

“How are you doing?” He asked in a peace offering.

“I’m writing a song, I titled it “I don’t want to go to your ridiculous family gathering, thanks”. It’s almost finished” answered Eddie without raising his head. Steve smiled. He adored the irony Eddie was always able to use even when he was upset.

“Come on, babe…” Eddie looked at him angrily. “Come on, Eddie. We never met my family and I never insisted, but…��

Eddie muttered and moved a hand to make him shut up. “I know. I already listened to that. Tomorrow it’s our last day of vacation and I don’t want to ruin it”.

Eddie put down the notebook and got under the sheets, turning his back to Steve.

“Oh, come on!” Protested Steve, going near him. He lended a hand on his waist.

Eddie moved a little on the other side. “I don’t want to ruin it either” said Steve, harshly. “Is it better if I sleep on the sofa?”

“Don’t be silly”

“But you don’t want to talk to me or touch me”

Eddie sighed.

“Ok talk” he said dryly.

“I don’t know what to say, I just want to go visit my family and this time, with you”

Eddie turned towards him, looking at him with a hard look.

“They never accepted me, and you know. They never accepted the kids, and I don’t want to force them to this”

“And I already said that they changed their mind this time. My father…”

“Yes, we all know that your father is a survivor and now he sees life differently”.

“Can’t you give them a last possibility? Just for me? They really want to make amends, he asked me to apologize. They want you to go to the anniversary and talk to you personally”.

“And the kids?”

“They… want to meet them…”

Eddie grumbled another time, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t want to remember what they said about adopted children”

“And they regret itI now. They want to tell you directly. Please, Eddie. I am…. I was really worried for my father”.

Eddie shook his head one last time. “But just for you, not for them” he pouted, and Steve smiled sweetly. “Of course. Thanks”

They heard Bobby call with a panicked voice. Becky was pretty good about their mother, but Bobby lately started to have nightmares, especially when they met or had a call with her. Eddie sighed and came out of the bed, glad to have an excuse to go away to Steve.

Steve turned the light on and sat up on the bed, he wanted to wait Eddie after falling asleep to be sure they ended the argument well.

“His family” had always been a taboo between them.

He was madly in love with the man, he fell in love with him in Eddie’s senior year but he accepted it a year or so later, when Eddie himself confessed to him he had a big crush on him when he was the keg king.

The only big fight they had was about Steve’s family. He eventually came out with his parents, but they didn’t accept it at first and not even after some time. They accused Eddie of ruining Steve, to change him into someone he wasn’t and they tried to make them break out. And they succeeded.

After a year and a half, they planned to move together, but Steve’s parents stopped him, and he wasn’t able to ignore them. They tried to convince him that he needed to find a good girl to start a family, that probably he ended up with Eddie because he was disappointed in the girls in Hawkins. They offered to pay him a trip abroad or an apartment away to try to find someone more suitable. Steve regretted he wasn’t strong enough to run away with Eddie, but he didn’t want to cut off his family entirely. So he and Eddie had that big, giant fight and broke up. Eddie moved away alone and Steve remained in Hawkins, heart broken and feeling really, really stupid.

But he kept thinking about Eddie, despite his parent’s attempts to marry him off with some girls, and another year and a half later, during Thanksgiving holidays, he met Eddie again and knew that his feelings had never changed, and, luckily for him, nor Eddie’s. This time he was firm with his family, he protected his relationship with Eddie and when the time came, he moved in with him in Portland. His parents never accepted Eddie, although they stopped trying to separate them. Eddie tried to visit once, but they were really cold and rude so he didn't try again.

Then Steve’s father got cancer and Steve was really worried for him. Eddie, really proud, refused to go to visit him, and Steve didn’t insist. He visits every now and then alone, but now, after the recovery, they wanted to throw a big party for their 35th wedding anniversary, and for the first time they insisted on having Eddie too, and even the kids. Clearly Eddie was cautious and they had to argue a lot of times.

Yes, they only fighted about Steve’s family, and he didn’t like it.

Eddie returned with a little smile on his face. “I hope he can sleep the rest of the night, we have to sing the spider some more time than I like”.

Steve smiled too. He looked Eddie in the eyes, waiting for him to resume the discussion. Eddie sighed, returning under the sheets.

“You want me to apologize?” Eddie asked, in a plain tone.

“Of course not! But… I want us to go to sleep in peace”.

“I already said that I will go, for you. I am just worried for the kids. Are you sure? We can manage otherwise if…”

“No,” said Steve firmly. “They have to accept my family as a whole, or nothing. The kids and you are my family over my parents. It’s the last occasion, ok?”

“Ok… but at the first bad signal we will go away without looking back”.

Steve sighed and nodded. He remembered how he cried for anger and frustration when he announced to his parents that they wanted to start the adoption process: that they wouldn’t accept some abandoned, rejected kid as their grandchild. That blood was thicker than water and their lineage dated back to the pilgrims and so on. Steve left thinking it was the last time, but then his father fell sick. Eddie was still offended by their prejudices about fostering and adopting kids, he maybe could negotiate their opinion about him but surely wouldn’t expose innocent kids to two old racist white dumbs.

“Deal. I will support you no matter what, I promise”.

Eddie nodded. “So enjoy our last holiday night” he smiled, and opened his arms to accommodate Steve on his chest.

“I love you,” Steve said.

“I know”.

They barely talked about the family gathering on the trip to Hawkins. The kids really loved the landscape of the highway and sleeping in campings along the way with every kind of different person. Eddie liked it too, he was good at knowing strangers and they had a good time singing in the caravan and talking with interesting people.

They decided to stop previously at Wayne's to spend a couple of days with him and meet Steve’s parents alone before the anniversary.

Wayne already met the kids at Christmas in Portland, and he just loved them with his simple, no-frills way. They liked him in return and were absolutely delighted to play in his garden.

That day, Eddie put the kids on a nap and went to the garage to check a little noise that only he heard in the caravan.

“It will take a little,’” smiled Wayne when he left. He fished from the pantry some cans of cherry. “And now you will have the time to say what is eating you away.”

Steve blushed and raised an eyebrow. Differently from his parents, Wayne never had problems accepting them as a couple since the first time. He didn't say a word about their break up and their return, and simply loved Steve because Eddie loved him. He was more than happy about fostering and in future adopting kids, he himself had been a foster parent and was really, really proud of Eddie wanting to share his luck with some unfortunate kid.

Steve wasn’t sure that rant about the situation was a good idea. He kept washing the dishes in silence for a while.

Waye waited politely, opening and drying the cherries.

“It’s… Eddie and I had a sort of… argument… about my family. A few arguments, in fact,” he looked Wayne in the eyes. “Oh, but… but obviously we won’t split up again…” Wayne giggled a little. “My family… well maybe I’m reconsidering meeting them with Eddie… and the kids”.

Wayne nodded, silent again.

“It’s the last possibility, I swear… but my father had… had that thing, and I… I really wish I wouldn’t have to choose, really”.

“And Eddie is not ok with it?”

“He was since the beginning, and now I’m not sure I did right dragging them here”

“And he is upset about it, right?”

“You noticed?”

Wayne giggled again. He could read his kid with a glance, despite the fact that he was now a grown up man and he lived far away.

“And there is the kids thing…” started Steve, uncertain if to tell him that too. He, despite everything, didn't want him to judge his family too hard.

“Let me guess, they don't agree with you adopting children… they want grandchildren of their blood, don't they?”

Steve washed the last dish and nodded, grabbing the counter with white knuckles.

“Don’t judge them, they don’t…”

“Oh I don't judge. You know perfectly what I think about fostering and adopting kids. But I want you to know a thing, and it will be the one and last time I say this: I have to protect Eddie and his family, of blood or adoption, and I will if needed”.

Steve nodded.

“But you know, otherwise I will always try to make you all happy, and if you want, I will share with you a little trick to make Eddie smile”.

Wayne blinked to Steve, and he looked curiously at the man. He grabbed a cherry can.

“Cherry cobbler”.

Eddie entered the door of Wayne’s home and stopped suddenly, sniffing deeply.

“Cherry cobbler…” he whispered entering the kitchen, and looking straight to Wayne. He understood what his uncle was trying to do, and thanked him silently.

“I need a smoke” said the man, grabbing his cigarettes and going out of the room. Steve was whisking the batter and stopped, looking at Eddie too.

“Wayne and I always did it when I was angry and upset,” smiled Eddie, eating a cherry. “He always could calm me and make me talk while preparing this”.

“And it will help now?”

Eddie smiled. “Let’s try”.

He took control of the batter and Steve cutted the cherries. They intertwined hands when they poured the mix in the mold, and they talked, and smiled. Eddie felt really relieved at the end, just as Wayne knew. Wayne came in again with the kids who just finished their nap.

Eddie and Steve took them in their arms.

“It smells good, Steve,” said Becky, grabbing his head with a kiss.

“Smells really good,” nodded Wayne, looking at Eddie and smiling.

Eddie looked at Steve, thinking, and biting his lip a little.

“What if… what do you think if we do one more… for tomorrow?”

“Do you mean…”

“As an offer. As a sign of good will?”

Steve nodded and hugged him. “Thank you” he whispered and kissed him.

“They kisses…” giggled Becky and covered her face with her hands.

Eddie had Bobby in one hand and the cobbler in the other. He had a belligerent expression on his face, and he grabbed the kid’s hand like he wanted to use him as a shield. Steve had Becky in his arms when he rang the bell of Harrington’s mansion.

The maid opened and let them enter the living room. Harrigton Senior was sitting in his armchair and his wife on the sofa. She got up, he remained seated.

“Hello, Steve,” said his mother. “Eddie, dear, welcome” continued with a certain insecurity.

“Hi, Monica”, said Eddie, aloof, holding the cobbler proudly.

“And you are…” said the woman to the kids.

“Come on, wormies, this is Steve’s mother. Let's be polite and shake her hand,” said Eddie to the kids, who were a little scared. He could be angry with them, but he wanted to try not to influence the kids.

“Hi,” said the kids, serious, but friendly.

“And he is my dad,” smiled Steve, pointing to his dad. “Hi, dad”.

“Hi son” he finally stood up. He smiled at the kids, a little worried too, but with a promising expression. “Hi kids. I’m your… Can I…?”

Steve shook his head. “No,” he mimicked.

“I’m Steven '' concluded Steve Senior, shaking the hands of the kids. Maybe it could be better a kiss, like the several they gave to Wayne, but Eddie and Steve wanted to be a little cautious, just in case things came out bad.

The conversation was a little weak at first. Eddie and Steve sat on the sofa in front of the parents, like in a trial, with the worried and silent kids on their laps. They just shared some useless chat about their recent trip in California and Steve’s mother just asked some polite questions.

“Can we offer something to you?” Finally said the woman, desperate to find a topic.

“We did a cherry cobbler together,” answered Eddie.

“Oh, great! I will check if we had some ice cream for that. "The woman took the cake and went to the kitchen, returning a little later with two large bags in hands.

“The maid will take care of the treat,” she said to the expectant kids. “We… we bought some presents for you,” she lent the bags to the kids. They find some illustrated books in the first, and they politely thanked and asked Eddie what the books were about. Eddie thanked the Harringtons too with a composed smile, then they grabbed the other bag.

There were clothes. Some packets of silly socks, a little suit for the boy and an elegant dress for the girl. Eddie looked at the clothes and then to the kids, who at that moment were wearing matching Iron Maiden little t-shirts.

Harrington senior then lent him a long box. He saw a decorated tie, with little sort of stars and dots, and looked to them interrogatively, then looked to Steve, who apparently were aware at least of that last present.

“If you think I will wear something like this at your gathering, you’re really wrong. And I won’t dress up my kids like dolls just to please some stranger,” he said harshly.

The Harringtons widened their eyes and mouths, but in that moment the maid served the cobbler. The kids forgot the present and attacked their plates, kneeling near the coffee table.

“We… we didn’t intend to force any of you to dress anything,” said Steve’s mother. “They’re just… presents,” she searched Steve’s eyes for help.

“Thanks mom, we appreciate them. It’s true, Eddie?”

“Of course,” muttered him while sipping his coffee.

“You can wear anything you want to the party tomorrow,” insisted Monica, trying to fix things.

Eddie nodded, unimpressed. The kid finished eating and he cleaned their hands and faces with a napkin.

“Kids, do you want to see the pool?” Asking Eddie standing up. He looked at Steve and he nodded. It was evident that Eddie needed a break already.

He took the kids' hands and they went out to the garden.

“He’s a tough cookie,” grumbled Steve’s dad. Steve puffed.

“You didn’t make things easy for him,” he answered dryly. “He is hurted and protective of the kids”.

“We just want to fix things,” said Monica, looking to his husband, nodding. “We want him to know we are sorry, and want his forgiveness, and make him… them… part of the family”.

“I appreciate it, mum, but he needs to hear it from you directly. And I can’t guarantee it would be easy, he knows what you think about adopting kids”.

Harrington senior blushed a little. He opposed fiercely to adopting, for blood reasons, but the cancer and the life danger made him rethink about a lot of things.

“We changed our mind,” he said. “I changed my mind. Of course, I still want a grandchild…”

“Dad,” interrupted Steve. Steven sr nodded.

“Ok, you’re right. I changed my mind, that’s all. I will… I will accept your family”.

“The kids are adorable,” said Monica, willing to please Steve.

“Eddie is adorable with them,” Steve answered. “He is a wonderful father”.

Monica and Steven nodded.

“Eddie, would you like to come inside again?”

Steve went to collect his family around the pool. The kids were delighted, but Eddie was sitting there with a serious expression, and Steve didn't read it as a good sign.

“You always have a secret purpose when you talk so politely,” he said without smiling.

“I know. My parents want you to come back with the kids”.

“If they think to butter me up with some clown clothes and a hideous tie, they’re really wrong,” he answered, without any sign to move.

“It wasn’t their idea. That tie is the one my father wore when he met my mom’s parents for the first time. It’s… precious for him”.

Eddies scoffed.

“They’re trying to say you’re welcome in our family”.

“If only they told me it in the face…”

“They want to do it. They want to apologize in front of you. Please, come back to talk with them”.

Eddie pursed his lips.

“Look, I know it’s difficult and it won’t be immediate, but just give them a chance”.

“I don’t want to wear that thing tomorrow, nor to dress my kids up like a preppy clown,” he continued harshly.

“They didn’t mean it. They’re just presents, to show good will. So come now?” Steve smiled and lent a hand to him. Eventually Eddie shrugged his shoulders and grabbed it.

“Thanks,” said Steve, smiling. Eddie called the kids and they came inside together.

“Did you enjoy the pool, kids?” Answered Monica. “If you stay a few days more, we can prepare it to swim a little. It’s heated”.

Eddie licked nervously his lips, standing in the middle of the living room. He had the face of someone who didn’t want to bear more bullshit.

“Eddie, sit down, please,” said Steve,nervous himself.The kids sat in a corner looking at their new books. Eddie sat.

“Eddie, we… we want to apologize for… for our behavior in the last… years,” Monica cleared her throat.

“We want to welcome you into the family, if you want to forgive us. We want you and the kids to meet all the family tomorrow, and of course… feel free to wear whatever you want,” continued Steven.

Eddie was surprised, he frankly didn’t expect Harringtons to be sincere, but he couldn’t say anything against them at the moment.

He nodded, and let go of an accent of a smile that warmed Steve's heart a lot.

“We’ll see tomorrow then,” he said at the end of the afternoon, when they went away to return to Wayne’s house.

Eddie had a lot to think about that night. He put the kids to sleep while Steve was helping Wayne to clean the dishes. Then he enjoyed some homemade liquor on the patio with his uncle while Steve had a shower before bed.

“A penny for your thoughts, kid”.

Eddie sipped a little from his glass, then told almost everything to Wayne. He didn’t particularly appreciate the Harringtons, and he politely expressed his surprise about their change of mind.

“I always thought Steve came in a package with his family, whether you like it or not. Whether he liked it or not,” he added, and Eddie nodded. Steve had grown apart of his family for him, but he always suffered from it. “He did a lot for you regarding them, and I think you have to make steps for him too”.

Eddie snorted a little. Wayne always said so many things with so few words. He understood everything, and he nodded.

The twins were sitting on the sofa in their new clothes, looking like little preppy dolls, and Steve was trying to put their shoes on. He was happy that Eddie didn’t fuss about the clothes, on the contrary, he decided spontaneously to dress the kids in that way. The dresses didn’t really suit their kids, but it was just a signal from Eddie.

“Stevie? Honey? Could you come and help me?” Eddie called from the bedroom.

Steve went there, and he melted, blushing with his heart running very quickly.

Eddie was wearing a light gray suit that seemed just a little small for him, and tried to work his Harrington tie, shaking his head. “I need help, I can’t do it”.

“Oh Eddie,” Steve smiled looking at him, grabbing his hand. “Thanks,” he whispered, kissing him lightly.

“Nonsense,” smiled Eddie, blushing in return.

Steve fixed the tie, and hugged him.

Steve’s parents welcomed them really warmly when they came to the party. Steve’s father looked at Eddie’s tie and firmly grabbed his hand, smiling warmly at him. They let the kids play with the other family’s kids and they grab a glass of champagne. Eddie felt a little overwhelmed by Steve’s extended family, and intimidated for all the introductions, but they introduced him as Steve’s partner without euphemisms ,and Steve didn’t leave his side. His presence didn’t seem as a big deal as he thought so he could enjoy the buffet and the drinks.

“Steve, please, come there, Auntie Bertha wants to greet you”.

Steve snorted a little. Aunt Bertha was the matriarch of the family since her sister’s, Steve’s senior mother, death. He was nearly 80, in a wheelchair, and she had obviously old opinions about modern things. They didn’t tell her exactly Steve’s way of life, but they met once one of her daughters and he suspected that she knew. He really didn’t want to hear a lecture about homosexuality and corruption of morality, but he at least needed to pay his respects.

Steve sat at her side, with his parents near.

“Those kids are yours?”

Steve scoffed a little. “They’re foster kids, Auntie”

“Oh, so that tall woman isn’t their mother? Is she your wife?”

“No, Auntie, he’s not their mother, he’s a man and he is my partner”.

“And you don’t have kids of your own?”

Steve scoffed again, trying to remain calm.

“No, Auntie, we can’t adopt kids at the moment, we are not married”

Bertha nodded thoughtfully.

“So she’s not your wife?”

Steve tried not to get madI, she was old and probably didn’t understand everything. But he decided not to hide anything, and his parents were there just listening, he was surprised they didn’t try to stop him.

“He is a man, Auntie. He’ my partner, we live together, but we’re not married”

“Oh, yes, I think you told me something like this…” Bertha looked at Steven senior. He nodded. “And you live with a man? That…”

“Eddie, Auntie. Well, I think I have to go, now…” said Steve, starting to feel a little nervous.

“Your Grandma Mary always hoped you would marry sooner or later… why aren't you married?”

Steve stood, moving a step to the door. “At the moment we…”

“And don’t you want your own kids?”

“Auntie, I’m sorry, I have to go…”

“Steve and Eddie can’t adopt kids if they’re not married, Auntie,” explained Steven senior, sweetly.

“Oh, right,” nodded the old woman. “So you'd better not wait, right?”

Steve looked at his parent’s faces. He felt strange and he felt like he didn't understand.

“Marry him,” added the old woman. She took something from her pocket. Steve’s mother took it from her hands and gave it to Steve.

Steve opened the little box.

He found his Grandma's ring. He looked at his parents, puzzled and holding his breath.

“Granny wanted it for your fiance,” said his mother. Steven senior went to arrange again Auntie Bertha’s dress, and his mother walked Steve away.

“We explained things to Auntie before, but I think she didn’t get it all… You ok?”

“It’s your idea? Dad’s too?”

She nodded. “You know, he still wants grandchildren,” she smiled.

Steve put the box in the pocket and smiled.

The kids fell asleep on one of the big sofas, so they put them sleeping in the car. Steve drove slowly down the town, and at a certain point he took a different way.

He stopped near the houseboats on the lake, and Eddie looked at him, confused.

“Do you remember where we had our first kiss?” Eddie nodded. “Let’s have a look, come on”, he added, getting out of the car.

He took Eddie’s hand in the dark, only the moon was lighting the place.

“What’s happening, Steve?”

Steve kissed Eddie, sweetly, as they kissed there for the first time, so shy and worried and shivering. He took the box from his pocket, and knelt.

“Eddie?” Whispered Bobby, waking up in the backseat. Steve was driving with a big smile on his face.

“We’re almost at home, honey, keep sleeping” Eddie reached him caressing his cheek; an engagement ring, maybe too girlish between all his skulls and crosses, shined on the road lights.

Bobby closed his eyes again, and Eddie looked again at his ring, kissed it, and then grabbed Steve’s hand on the gear. They blushed together.

#steddie #steddie holiday exchange #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things

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theflyindutchwoman · 7 months

Note

Your paintball scene post got me thinking…

What kinda dates do you think chenford goes on?

Obvi dinner, but I can totally see them doing mini golf dates and paintball dates. And then Tim rolls out like the most romantic date ever on a random night

I wish we saw more date nights 😭

Ooh I like that! I have so many thoughts about this… For starters, I always imagined Tim made another reservation in a romantic restaurant soon after their second date. Not so much as a do-over, but just because he wanted Lucy to enjoy a proper fancy dinner, with no interruption this time… Well, that and so he could see her in an elegant dress (like a certain green one - but he's not picky).

I could also see them having a nice date night at home, where they would cook together or one of them would prepare a meal for the other… Share a dinner in his backyard with a campfire… Make a baking/cooking competition (with Tim confiscating the flour in case she'd get any idea)… Go to an orchad for apple pickings (or a Californian equivalent, I feel like this is something Lucy would like)…

Then, there would be the paintball dates of course, and the shooting range so Lucy could show off again… Go on some hikes with Kojo and watch the sunrise/sunset… Go watch a baseball game together… Go to an art museum - even if Tim doesn't really care for the exhibition, he just enjoys watching Lucy light up and explain him plenty of things… Go outside the city and do some stargazing, snuggling under some blankets in his truckbed…

#Like I said... I have so many thoughts 😅#little talks #chenford #the rookie #lucy chen #tim bradford

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pisupsala · 2 years

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One for The History Books [Chapter 5] [Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw]

[Summary] You are an archivist at the Pentagon, sent on assignment to TOPGUN to catalog and report on a top secret mission. In the days under the Californian sun, a certain naval aviator puts your once orderly life in a tailspin that you might never recover from.

[Pairing] Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc

[Warnings] Mature content: swearing, (explicit) smut. 18+ only.

[Words] 4.1k

[Library]

One for The History Books - Chapter 5: Drown Me

You're unsure how to feel. And that's putting it lightly. You made out with Lt. Bradshaw in a parking lot against his car at sunset, which was objectively hot as fuck and messed up your emotions and hormones into a state beyond repair. You are not even sure if you are disappointed or not about Lt. Bradshaw taking you home and nothing more. He walked you to the barracks building, pressed a flighty kiss on your lips, and watched you walk to your door. Should you have invited him in? Or just straight-up dragged him in by his collar? Although Vice Admiral Simpson stopping by early Sunday morning to return your car keys (seriously, that man has no concept of normal people) might have made that awkward.

Scratch that. Not awkward. A fucking disaster. A straight-up career destroying disaster. For you mostly. Lt. Bradshaw would have plausible deniability about knowing you were reporting on his mission. For you, though? A knowing breach of integrity, impartiality, and objectivity. You would get pulled off the case, for one, probably lose your top security clearance, and get busted down to the mailroom. If the Pentagon still would deign to employ you, that is. This was never supposed to happen, and under no circumstances should anything else happen. You consider recusing yourself from this assignment; your career would take a hit for that. Either way, it's probably best for all parties involved to keep this under wraps, ride out the assignment, and bury every delicious memory of that evening deep into your fantasies. You can't bring yourself to regret it, one second of it, but you are both toeing the line in the sand that is hard to come back from. And why would you delude yourself into thinking it's anything more than a fling anyway? You think bitterly. After all this is over, he will return to whichever ship he was on, doing tours, and you will return to your shoebox apartment in Arlington. You are both just in need, willing and available—hardly some big romance. “You know I have been standing here for almost ten minutes now, right, Williams?” Your expression flat, you look up at Riks. It's Monday, and your thoughts are preoccupied. So much so you didn't notice Corporal Cunt and his ego walk into your office. “Sure, what do you want, Riks?” Your tone polite, only a ghost of a smile on your face. Instead of immediately replying, he reaches for one of the folders piled on your desk.

“Don't touch my papers.” You sigh, annoyed now. “Don't you have somewhere to be?” “What, like you're so busy? You've been staring at that paper for the whole time I've stood here.” He crosses his arms and looks down at you from the other side of your desk. You just look back at him, unimpressed. “Anyway—going to assume your space-out self hasn't read the morning brief yet.” He continues haughtily. You shrug. “Captain Mitchell has been pulled off the mission training.” Oh? You wait for him to continue, refusing to betray how much that information actually surprises you. What a bizarre decision this late in the game—true, no one has made time yet in training. The team is almost halfway through the training; changing command now will not do anyone any good.

Riks revels a bit too much in knowing something you don't and is lording it over you. “Cyclone is taking over training now. Command changed the mission's parameters completely, giving the pilots more time to complete the run. Of course, this means-” “Hold up-” You interrupt him. “What reason was given to change the parameters of the mission?” Riks sighs, annoyed at your interruption. “Have you been reading any debriefs at all since we got here?” He cuts at you snidely. “It can't be done. No one of the top pilots on the mission training succeeded.” “Wouldn't that mean that the mission can't be done successfully, period?” “That's a problem for the brass, not us.” Riks replies callously. “Or, you know, the pilots who already needed two miracles in the first place.” You cut back at him. You get up from your chair and grab the morning brief from the pile in your inbox on your desk.

“I'm getting coffee, so please leave my office, so I can lock up.” You are done with this conversation, and you need to see with your own eyes in what kind of clusterfuck this mission is really turning into. Top secret clearance at least means no one can be in your office without you, so it gives you a great excuse to kick Riks out. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It's only a couple of hours later, and the whole base has descended into a state of utter chaos. Military bases have their fair share of yelling, but rarely a strange mix between blind panic and… happiness? As it turns out, Captain Pete "Maverick" Mitchell stole a plane. He also unequivocally proved that the original mission time could be achieved without missing the target. In one single run.

An incredible feat, one you have trouble wrapping your head around. You are standing in Simpson's office, in front of his desk, Bates in a chair to your right. Simpson is pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks in pain. Bates has a small smile on his face, wonderfully unbothered by the whole situation. “Are you in need of a lecture about the greater good of the mission and why reporting this to the DoD would be harmful to everyone involved?” Simpson starts, unmoving, from his position at his desk. “No Sir.” “Good, smart.” He says, finally looking up. Under his breath, he adds: “I don't think I even could explain this away.” “What's going to happen next, Vice Admiral Simpson?” You sincerely wonder how they are planning to move on from this—changing training command twice in one day, is hard to explain in the best of circumstances, let alone on a mission like this. He just waves his hand. He just waves his hand. “You will receive all the relevant paperwork for the DoD report.” Bates gets up from his chair. “We will make sure it all works out, miss Williams.” He says smiling. Ah, so they will backdate Mitchell's flight papers, making it look like his run was authorized. So, basically fraud. Actually breaking the law.

Once again—everyone here in insane. The faster you are out of here, the better. You smile. “Of course. Good evening gentlemen.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The moment you feel like you have gotten your brain back to functioning normally, a proverbial bomb is dropped. Within three days, the whole mission has been turned upside down, inside out. You stare at the morning brief in your hands. You softly read out loud to yourself, making sure you are not reading anything wrong.

“The circumstances around the rapid progress of the uranium plant mean that the mission will be pushed forward. TOPGUN mission teams will ship out to the USS Roosevelt at 04:00 next morning.” You still. In the past days, you haven't seen hide or hair of Lt. Bradshaw. He must be busy, you conclude, and while you rationally understand it's for the better, it stings a little. In less than 18 hours he is shipping out to somewhere in the Pacific on what is still, objectively, an insane mission. The hours of the day crawl by. Never have you been so busy, and yet the clock wouldn't move. When you get back to your room that evening, you are tired but also strangely jittery. You pace through the small room, your emotions in turmoil. A part of you wants to go find Lt. Bradshaw, and at least wish him luck? But you are also aware you need to stay away from him, for your own good. Besides, he probably has his own shit to deal with. You are well aware that if he gets chosen to fly the mission, he might very well be flying to his death. You can't seem to stop your brain. A frenzy of thoughts and feelings fills you: worry, shame, confusion, attraction, anger, stress. You massage your scalp as you pace. There is nothing you can do now, you tell yourself. The mission, Lt. Bradshaw—it will play out one way or another. You can only wait, no matter how frustrating it is. A sharp rap of knuckles sounds on your door. You stop pacing and glance at your watch—it's almost 11 pm. You consider ignoring it, as it's most likely either Riks or Simpson. No one has come by your room before, especially this late. Another knock. Fuck. If that's actually Simpson you have a problem. Riks? You can just shut the door in his face. You move to open the door, quickly putting your messy hair up in a bun. As you open the door, you blink, pretty sure you are dreaming. Lt. Bradshaw, in his flight suit, breathing deeply like he's just been running. He looks frazzled, for the lack of a better word. You look at each other for a second. He grabs your elbow, and gently but swiftly pushes his way and closes the door behind him. You don't protest, as you have no way of explaining away why he would be at your room, at this time of night, hours before he ships out. The door clicks close. You stand in silence for a couple of seconds. The air feels electric suddenly. “I have to...” He stumbles over his words. “I'm shipping out in a few hours.” “I know.” It comes tumbling out of your mouth before your frenzied brain can catch up. You really should not be telling him you know about the mission, but, at the 11th hour, you can't really bring yourself to care about it anymore, rationally. For a split second, Lt. Bradshaw narrows his eyes. You can almost see the cogs turning in his head. He's smart, so he's probably putting together what you have actually been working on these past weeks, and why Simpson gets on your case so much. You hold your breath. “Then you know..." He trails off. How insane the whole thing is?

It will take two miracles to pull off?

That he might not come back? You merely nod, understanding the gravity of his situation. You reach out to him, cupping his face with your hands. He allows you to pull him to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and neck. “I just needed to...see you.” He murmurs as he rests his forehead against you. “I've got you.” You whisper back. With that, his lips crash into yours. You reciprocate with the same fervor, letting his need, desperation, and desire wash over you. If he needs comfort, you are more than willing to give. You tangle your fingers in his curls, tugging lightly. He nips your lip in response. One arm is still wrapped around your neck, as he uses his other hand to tug up the button-up shirt that is tucked into your skirt. As soon as he has an opening, he sneaks his hand under your shirt, roaming the calloused pad of his hand over your ribs. You are on your tiptoes, desperately trying to get closer to him. Back arched, you press yourself into him, his hand skimming over your spine. He dips his finger under the band of your bra. You gasp at the sensation.

Lt. Bradshaw starts gently pushing you back until the back of your legs hit the small desk in your room. Not breaking the kiss, he easily lifts onto it. Your fingers fumble with the zipper of his flight suit, needing to feel him closer to you. As if on autopilot, you open your legs to make space for him to step between. You manage to partially pull the down the zipper of his flight suit and drag your nails over the fabric of the shirt on his muscled chest. God, he feels so good. You feel his hand move up your thigh, under the pushed-up hem. His fingers are splayed out, just inches from your panties. He breaks the kiss and latches the sensitive spot just below your ear. You are breathing hard now. “You have to want this.” His voice is soft, but has a raw edge to it. “I want -” Your breath hitches as he squeezes your thigh in anticipation. “I want you.” “Fuck, darlin', it's so good to hear you say that.” His voice low in your ear. He kisses a trail down your neck to your collarbone, expertly popping the buttons of your shirt with one hand. He nips at your collar bone. “Please...” You want his hands on you, his mouth, his body, and there are too many clothes in the way. Bradshaw is making quick work of your shirt, which he pushes down your arms. Goosebumps erupt on your skin. He's kissing the swell of your breast now, just above the cup of your bra. Both his hands are pushing your skirt up further up your thighs. Your underwear is now completely on display. You're so turned on by now, you're sure your wetness is soaking through your panties. There is something incredibly hot about being in this state of undress, with Bradshaw still fully dressed. But also unfair, and you are not having it. You decide to push back, and pull the zipper of his flight suit down further. Bradshaw regards you with an amused look on his face, breathing labored, as you determinedly push the flight suit down his arms. He slips his hands out. You take that moment to get rid of your button-up shirt completely. With deliberate movements, you start tugging up his black skivvy shirt, needing it gone. He easily moves along and shrugs the shirt off. You let your eyes greedily run over the sight before you—chiseled torso, tan, and so close to you. Grazing your nails over his stomach, you see his muscles tense under your touch. There is no time, only fevered movements, panting breath, and bruising kisses. Your hands roam over his chest and back, mapping every line and plane. His skin is so hot against yours—it's like every nerve ending is on fire.

“Fuck, I really want to take my time with you, darlin'” He practically purrs in your ear, one hand on your neck while the other one is unapologetically tugging down your soaked panties, tossing them somewhere to the side. Before your muddled brain can even form a coherent sentence, his fingers are already sliding up your slit, brushing up against your clit.

A loud moan tears from your throat. The sensation of him touching you so intimately has you practically boiling over. Without stopping his ministrations, he gently shushes you. Clinging to him, you tilt your pelvis on the table to give him better access. His thumb is rubbing your throbbing clit relentlessly. His index and middle fingers are teasing around your opening. “I - I need you to...” You can barely finish your sentence, as you gently guide his fingers into you. “Tell me what you need.” His voice is rough. You need him to fill you. His fingers hook, now applying pressure to the two most sensitive parts of your pussy. “Fuck, fuck - yes, like that.” The words are tumbling from your mouth without a filter. “Please, don't—don't stop, fuck!” "That's it... don't think, darlin'." He is encouraging you, as his movements become rougher and more hurried. The pressure in you is building. You crash your mouth against his, in a primal need to have every sense overwhelmed by him.

His free hand is massaging your breast, dipping under the cup of your bra. Pinching your nipple, twisting it, making it hurt in the best possible way. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer, nails dragging over his shoulders. “I'm - am getting so close, please.” You are practically begging him. “Don't stop, please, please...” Your voice is raw, breathing so hard you feel like you are drowning. Bradshaw's hand leaves your breast, tangles into your hair, grabbing a fistful and forcing your head back.

“Look at me.” He commands you like an officer. His command sends electricity down your spine—you did not expect him to dominate you like this, or how hot it is. You are really close now, the muscles in your leg twitching, moaning brokenly. “Say my name.” He presses his thumb against your clit harder, tightening his grip on your hair. His eyes are blazing with desire. “Say my name as you cum.” “Please, fuck - Bradley, I'm going to cum.” You moan, keeping your eyes on him. “Do it, sweetheart. Cum for me.” His command sends you over the edge. Release washes over you. Your head lolls back, and your muscles contort under the most delicious sensation of his fingers, which are not stopping. You moan his name—too loudly, perhaps—as he cuts you off with a rough kiss. He releases his grip on your hair, and skims his fingers gently down your spine as you ride out your orgasm. Vaguely, you realize you've never before actually cummed when having sex with someone for the first time. You are slowly coming down from your high, breathing finally leveling. The urgency hasn't lessened, as Bradley picks you up from the table, hands on your ass. “Don't let go of me.” He murmurs against your throat. “I won't—I can't.” You breathe back. You latch onto him by wrapping your arms around his neck and legs around his waist. Your soaking wet pussy is rubbing against his stomach. He carries you to the small one-person bed in your room, sitting down you in his lap—your legs on either side of him. The feelings of frenzy and desperation have not died down—this is not about really about romance but about a desire, a need, and a ticking clock. You sit up on your knees, unclipping your bra and tossing is behind you, while Bradley slides his flight suit and underwear down in one swift motion. His cock looks painfully hard as you take him into your hands and stroke him. His mouth latches onto your now bare breast, using his hand to manipulate the other. Your hands are stroking along his length, your dripping pussy hovering just above his cock. “Please darlin', I can't...wait much longer.” His breath hitches as you tighten your fingers around him. His other hand is squeezing your bare ass, gently pushing you towards him. You guide his rock-hard cock to your soaking cunt, and carefully slide down on him. Bradley groans and swears under his breath as you sink down on him. You throw your head back as your walls stretch to accommodate his length and girth. You give yourself a second to adjust to him, before starting slow, deliberate movements with your hips, sliding up and down his length. You dig your fingers into his hair on the back of his head, giving yourself leverage to move as he nips at your nipple. Your other hand is running your nails up his spine, dragging a moan from him. He put you in a position of power, you realize, letting you decide the pace and putting him at your mercy. After him ordering you around and how hot that was, it makes you feel empowered to be in charge. You speed up your movements, moving your hips in a circular motion, gently biting down on Bradley's earlobe. This earns you a litany of swears from him, boosting your confidence further. “Is it good for you, lieutenant?” You murmur in his ear teasingly. He slaps your ass in reply, the sting making you moan.

"Darlin' - fuck...I-" Barely coherent, he snaps his hips up instead, meeting you mid-motion. He hits your sweet spot so hard, that you see stars for a second. You lean back, resting your hand on his knee, giving yourself a new angle as you ride him.

His hand is splayed on your stomach, palm pressing down on your lower stomach. His eyes are watching your pussy taking his cock all the way in, glistening with your cum. Bradley grabs onto your hip, snapping his hips up once again.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the sensation. He guides you into a faster rhythm, which you happily follow. This position is giving you a prime view of his upper body, the muscles in his stomach clenching deliciously with every move you make.

A sheen of sweat has started to form on your bodies, mingling through your movements. You are sure your cheeks are red, and the blush is spreading onto your chest. Bradley looks flushed, eyes dark with desire, hair mussed. He looks sexier than you could have ever imagined him.

In a sudden move, his fingers are on your clit again, as he snaps his hips up at every more. His movements are frenzied, and you can barely hold it together. Your muscles start contracting again, unbelievably fast from his double assault on you. What is he doing to you?

Your pussy starts clenching around his cock, as he in unrelenting in his rhythm.

“Fuck - Christ, you are so good.” You swear hoarsely. “So much better...”

“So much better than what, sweetheart?” He teases, breathlessly.

“So much—so much better than I imagined.” You pant.

“Have you been thinking about me fucking you, darlin'?” His voice is still teasing, but thick with arousal. “Have you been touching yourself, thinking about me?”

“God, yes - fuck, so much.” Your brain is wiped from the last shreds of rational thought as you come undone under Bradley's fingers again. Your vision goes white for a moment, as you lose control of your faculties. Your pussy clenches like a vice around his cock, drawing a long groan from him, but he doesn't stop.

Before your brain can catch up, Bradley rolls you both over on the bed. You are on your back, as he moves one of your legs over his shoulder, the other over his hip, mercilessly driving into you again. The bed creaks in protest, your breasts bouncing from the force of his movements.

Your hands blindly reach out for him, needing to touch him. He leans into you, bending your legs, and hitting you deeper than before.

“You feel so good - fuck - I can't-” He is close, you know. He grabs your hand, and places it on his throat. You squeeze gently with your fingers. He lets out a primal groan.

“Can I—I need to -” His words are coming out in a hurried jumble.

“I—birth control.” You can barely string together a sentence at this point. “Cum for me, Bradley.”

That's all the invitation he needs. He swears loudly as he rams into you, biting down on your collarbone hard. Your breath is ragged as he stills on top of you, resting on his elbow so as not to crush you completely.

Your collarbone is throbbing, but you can't really bring yourself to care. Soothingly, you move your hands through his hair, over his shoulders and back. Under your palms, you feel the raised edges where your nails scratched his back—oops. He is nuzzling your neck while you wait for your breath to even out, and return to this plane of reality.

You softly kiss his forehead, content to lay tangled up with him for a few moments in silence, before the reality of your situation sets in again. He presses his lips against the column of your neck.

“Can I call you? From the mission?” His voice sounds cautious, unsure almost. Your breath stills for a second—you had not thought about how this could possibly play out, but him wanting to call you gives you butterflies.

“I - yeah, if operational security allows it.” You could kick yourself for that being the first thing out of your mouth. “But I would like that very much.”

“I guess you will know if OpSec puts us in communication black-out.” He grins up at you. You try not to look too sheepish, although you both understand you cannot discuss classified information.

Bradley presses a light kiss against your lips. “I wish I could stay.” He whispers as if confessing to a secret. “Take my time with you, lay here with you.”

“I know.” You whisper back, understanding. “Duty calls.”

As he gets dressed, you add your number to his phone. It's like everything is out of order, and your world is spinning out of control—normally, you get someone's number, go on dates, and have drinks before you'd consider jumping into bed with someone. With Bradley, everything seems to be going backward in an intense, disorienting way.

You hand him back his phone, as he zips his flight suit back up. You have pulled your skirt back down and quickly put on a camisole, still without underwear, which is strewn somewhere around your room.

“Don't be a stranger.” Bradley presses one final lingering kiss on your lips.

“Good night, and good luck.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[edited and updated April 2023]

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #rooster x oc

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