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whisperedmeg · 1 month ago

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SYNODIC CURVE ―.✦ s.r. soft animal series ∘ part iv

pairing: spencer reid x fem!nurse!reader

summary: under the stars, spencer lets her in. what follows is not a leap, but a quiet circling toward something steady.

genre: fluff, smut, a bit of hurt/comfort I guess?

w/c: 5.7k

tags/warnings: post-prison spencer, talk of prison and intimacy issues, brief maeve mention, discussion of past relationship trauma, spencer being an adorable nerd, lots of astronomy talk, just two cuties on their first official date, glasses reid YUM, fingering, handjob, oral (both f/m receiving), 18+ MDNI

a/n: this is my favorite part thus far 🥹. as always, I appreciate anyone who reads this little story of mine so, so much 🫶🏼. part 5 is mostly written already, so it’ll be up later this week, and in the meantime, I might post a one shot unrelated to this series if I can find the time to finish it

series masterlist

synodic (adj.) — describing the period between successive conjunctions of celestial bodies; the cycle of return, when two objects moving through space appear to realign.

—

Spencer’s door was already unlocked when I arrived, as if he’d been checking the hallway every five minutes. His hair was slightly damp from a recent shower, and he’d changed into a t-shirt I hadn’t seen before — navy with a faded print of Saturn and a little ring of stars around it. I couldn’t tell if it was old or just designed to look that way, but either way, it suited him.

“Hope you’re in the mood for popcorn and 1950s melodrama,” he said by way of greeting, holding up the DVD case like it was a peace offering. I grinned and set my things down, padding over to him and greeting him with a quick kiss.

The night started easy. Comfortable. A rhythm we’d already half-settled into. He let me rummage through his kitchen for the popcorn while he dug around for the remote, and soon the apartment was filled with the scent of butter as black-and-white images flickered across the screen. We sat on the couch with the bowl between us, our shoulders brushing, knees nudging.

Halfway through the movie — somewhere between a dramatic monologue and a string-heavy score — I turned to him, catching him already watching me instead of the screen.

“We should probably talk,” I said softly.

He didn’t flinch, just nodded once. “About yesterday.”

“Yeah,” I confirmed.

We didn’t pause the movie. Just let it play in the background as we navigated the parts we hadn’t gotten to over the phone — the strange, lingering discomfort tied to my job, the way it felt like Millburn would always be a third presence in the room. He was honest about how he didn’t like thinking about that place, about the way it’s wired into him now like a faulty line in a circuit he can’t replace. I told him I understood — really understood — and that I never wanted to be one more thing he had to brace himself around. “But I don’t want to avoid it either,” I admitted. “Or you.”

“I know,” he said. “I know you being there probably made it survivable for me. But sometimes, it’s hard to hold that truth next to the version of you I’m still trying to believe I get to have outside of all that.”

That quieted me. I nodded and turned back to the movie, feeling his eyes still lingering on me.

The second half of the movie passed in fragments, but I don’t think either of us really followed it. His hand stayed on my knee most of the time, fingers idly tracing circles, the popcorn bucket long since moved to the coffee table so more of us could touch. When the credits rolled, we didn’t get up.

Eventually, I turned toward him, leaned in a little. He met me halfway.

The kiss started slow, familiar, but deepened fast — the kind of shift that felt like dropping into a current I hadn’t realized I was swimming alongside. His hands found my waist, then under the hem of my shirt, palms warm and steady. Mine were already tugging at the back of his neck, threading into his hair, pulling him closer, pulling him over me.

I felt him start to ease me down onto the couch, his body pressing into mine, and I didn’t stop him. His hips rolled against mine, his mouth on my neck. God, I didn’t want him to stop.

But then — he did.

Abruptly.

It wasn’t dramatic. He didn’t bolt upright or say anything cutting. He just stilled, every muscle in him going tense beneath my hands. I opened my eyes and found him already up, running both hands through his hair as he stood.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, pacing once toward the window and back again. “I’m— I thought I could.”

I sat up slowly, pulling my shirt back into place. The air between us had gone from warm to thin, and I hated how much of that change I immediately blamed on myself. Like I’d misread something. Like I’d offered too much.

“It’s totally fine,” I said, and the words came out more insecure-sounding than I meant them to.

He paused, analyzing my expression. “No, it’s not,” he said, sitting back down beside me, but this time with a little space between us. “I want to. It’s not you. Not at all. I want you, I— God, I want you so much sometimes it scares me.”

That didn’t help as much as he probably thought it would.

He sighed, rubbing his hand over his mouth like the words might line up better if he kept pushing.

“It’s just… that place rewired everything. I used to know how to be in my body. How to feel desire without it twisting. But now…” His voice trailed off, and he looked away, jaw tight. “Now I get close to you like that, and something inside me just short-circuits.” He looked at me like he was half expecting me to up and leave.

My chest ached — not from rejection, not even really from disappointment, but from how much I suddenly wanted to stay.

Because there was something about the way he spoke to me that stripped everything bare — no performance, no pretense. Just this raw, unfiltered honesty that somehow made me feel steadier, not smaller. I felt the weight of what it meant to be trusted with the part of him that still didn’t feel safe in its own skin.

And maybe that’s what shifted — realizing that whatever this was, it wasn’t about chasing a moment. It was about showing up. Again and again, even when it was messy. Especially when it was messy.

So, I didn’t leave. I just reached over and took his hand. He looked down at our intertwined fingers, then back at me like he couldn’t believe I was still here.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said, knowing he needed to hear it. “And I’m not going to push you. I’m completely okay with us taking our time with the physical stuff, going as slow as we need. But… I can’t keep guessing where the line is.” I paused, sighing softly. “I’m not asking you to be okay right now. I’m not asking you to give me more than you can,” I added. “But if you pull back and shut me out… I’ll start wondering if I did something wrong. Or if I made you feel cornered or coerced. I just need a little clarity. I need to know it’s not always going to feel like I’m walking a tightrope.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said after a beat, voice low. “None of this is your fault. I think part of me thought that when I got out, I’d just… snap back into who I was before. That everything I shut down to survive in there would just flip back on like a switch.” He let out a small, humorless laugh. “But it doesn’t work like that. So until I can get my body and mind to realign on that stuff, I’ll tell you when it’s too much. I don’t want you to be second-guessing yourself.”

I nodded, squeezing his hand. That was enough for me right now — just the promise that he’d try.

We didn’t talk much more after that. The rest of the night was quiet, just two people still learning how to navigate each other’s gravity. Eventually, he stood and reached a hand out to me without a word, guiding me into his bedroom like it was muscle memory now. He pulled out a fresh t-shirt from his drawer and handed it over without comment, just a small, almost sheepish smile. I took it, changed in the bathroom, and when I came back, he was already under the blanket, waiting.

He didn’t make a move toward me when I slipped in beside him, just let me come to him. I turned into his chest, and he curled his arm around my waist, breath warm against my forehead.

And even though the ache inside me didn’t leave entirely, it settled. Enough to let me sleep. Enough to stay.

—

The next week and a half blurred in that strange, elastic way time does when you’re learning someone new — stretching and snapping back, full of moments that didn’t feel like milestones until they’d already passed. I worked five shifts at Millburn and left sore and exhausted each time, but never alone. Spencer was waiting for me after every one — sometimes in person, sometimes just a text saying, Door’s open if you want it to be.

He kept busy, too. Chipping away at the mountain of paperwork it would take to get his badge back, fielding calls from the Bureau and his union rep, scheduling psych evals and meetings that sounded endless and exhausting. But he never made me feel like I was intruding on all that. Somehow, without either of us trying, we’d fallen into a rhythm.

We slept in the same bed almost every night now, though sleep wasn’t always the first thing on the agenda. There was more touching — more learning the boundaries, more of him reaching for me. His hands began to linger longer at my waist, his mouth began to pause just a beat more against my collarbone, sucking and licking and tasting. Some nights we talked until the room went dark around us. Others we barely said a word, content to just exist in the same quiet air, our legs tangled under the sheets.

Before I knew it and without even trying, I had memorized the way he made coffee and he had started keeping my brand of toothpaste in his bathroom drawer.

—

“I booked it,” he said one morning, voice soft but unmistakably pleased as he leaned against the kitchen counter in his flannel pajama pants and NASA tee. “The planetarium show. Thursday.”

I smiled, padding up to him and looping my arms around his waist. “Really?”

He grinned. “Seven o’clock. Stars and music. Pie afterward, if you’re still up for it.”

Something about the smile he gave me then made my heart pull in my chest — not the sharp kind, but the warm, stretching kind that always took a few extra seconds to settle.

Later that night, we lay facing each other, his fingers brushing absently over the inside of my wrist. He’d been quiet for a while, lost in thought, and when he finally spoke, it was with that same cadence he used when telling me facts I didn’t ask for but always wanted to hear.

“I haven’t dated much,” he said. “Not before the BAU, and only sporadically since I joined. Maeve was…different.”

I nodded gently, giving him space. I knew bits and pieces about Maeve already, little fragments of his past he’d laid bare inside the infirmary.

“She made me feel like I wasn’t too much. Even when I talked too fast or spiraled out with a thousand thoughts at once, she stayed on the phone with me. Answered every one of my letters. And then she was just…gone. And I couldn’t save her.”

His hand moved from my wrist to my jaw, brushing lightly as if grounding himself.

“Since then, I think some part of me has never fully let go of the idea that loving someone automatically means losing them. Or hurting them. Or both.”

My chest ached for him — not with pity, but with understanding. “I know that feeling,” I said. “I mean, not exactly. I can never relate to the pain you were in after what happened to her, but I know how it feels to conflate love with loss. My last relationship… It wasn't good for me. He constantly told me I was too much. Too emotional, too reactive, too needy. Everything about me was just a little too inconvenient.”

His eyes flicked up to meet mine, sharper now.

“I spent a long time trying to turn it off. Trying to be easier. Softer. Less. And when I couldn’t be what he wanted emotionally, I just…tried to be what he wanted physically.” I didn’t look away. “Sex became the only way I could feel close to him. Or useful.”

He exhaled, slow and low. “He sounds like an idiot.”

That made me laugh a little. “He was. But he was also just… human. And so was I. And I stayed too long. Started feeling like love always came at a cost, both to me and to them. But I’ve done a lot of work since then to be full again. To let go of that feeling, and to get back to myself.”

“You are,” Spencer said, fingers sliding carefully beneath the hem of my shirt. “You’re so full of life, I don’t know how I ever functioned before I met you.”

His kiss came gently, but it deepened quickly — hands finding each other, breath catching in the dark. For a while we didn’t speak, just moved together under the covers, slow and attentive. His mouth trailed along my throat like a map he wanted to memorize, and I let my hands explore the slope of his back, the curve of his waist, the sharp lines softened by sleep and stillness.

When his hand slipped beneath the waistband of my underwear, I held still — not in fear, but in awe of the quiet question he asked with just the brush of his fingertips. He traced the edge of me like he was waiting for my breath to steady, like he was listening for the yes in the way my hips tilted toward him.

When I gasped, soft, and involuntary, he didn’t freeze like he had in the times before. He stayed with me. Kept moving gently, slowly, two fingers slipping through slick heat as his eyes searched mine. Steady and careful. His pupils were blown wide, mouth parted like he’d forgotten to breathe, chest rising and falling as if trying to keep pace with something invisible between us. His thumb brushed over my clit deliberately, once, then again, and the sound I made curled his lips into the tiniest smile, like he was learning something sacred.

I was unraveling. I could feel it in every nerve ending, the coiled tension winding tighter, the heat in my belly flaring under his touch. He watched me fall apart with that same patient awe, like each flick of his fingers was another word in a language he was still studying but somehow already fluent in. He wasn’t just memorizing what made me shake — he was trying to understand why. Watching the way I arched, the way I bit my lip to keep quiet, the way I clung to his shoulder like I was trying not to drown. I tried to keep from being too much too fast, but it didn’t matter. He saw all of it.

And when I came, trembling around his hand, his eyes never left mine. He leaned his forehead against mine, breathing hard, and kissed me — my cheek, my temple, my brow, my lips. He looked at me as if witnessing me let go was as much a gift for him as it was for me.

When I rolled towards him after, still catching my breath, I reached for the hem of his shirt and felt him stiffen — not from discomfort, but something more fragile. Vulnerability, maybe. Or hesitation edged with want. I moved slowly, pressing a hand to his chest, and he let me, nodding.

My fingers drifted lower, across the trail of soft hair down his stomach, past the waistband of his boxers. He sucked in a breath, loud in the hush of the room, and buried his face in my neck when I wrapped my hand around him.

It wasn’t the way he groaned that undid me — it was the way he tried not to, like even now he was afraid to take up too much space in the room. I cupped his face with my free hand and whispered, “You can let go,” and he did — with a broken, quiet sound that made my chest tighten. He came with his forehead pressed to mine, whispering my name like it was the only tether he had to the present. Like he needed me more than air.

After, he collapsed into me, breath still ragged, hands trembling just slightly as they found my waist. I pressed my face into his neck and let my fingers trace over the long scar on his palm — the one I hadn’t worked up the courage to ask about yet. He let me touch it, didn’t flinch, and let out a breath that felt like surrender.

He changed into clean boxers and then came back to bed, wrapping me up in his arms with a kiss to my forehead. We stayed tangled up like that for a long time, neither of us talking, just sharing warmth, skin, silence. A kind of quiet I hadn’t known I needed until I had it. The kind that said, this is safe. This is yours.

And when we finally stilled beneath the covers, his arms tightened around me as he let his eyes close. It felt like he was holding onto more than just my body — we were carving out space for each other between fear and trust, between what he’d survived and what we were building now. And maybe he hadn’t remembered how to feel this kind of intimacy before — but here, in the hush of the dark, it felt like he was trying.

—

He picked me up at 6:30pm sharp on Thursday in a dusty old Volvo that looked like it had survived multiple timelines and maybe a few natural disasters. I loved it instantly.

I was locking my apartment door when I saw it idle at the curb through the window, a boxy relic with dull blue paint and mismatched hubcaps. Of course this was his car. Of course it smelled faintly like books and peppermint and had a crumpled copy of Scientific American wedged between the passenger seat and the center console.

“You ready?” he asked through the open window, smiling. I sucked in a sharp breath when I noticed he was wearing glasses I hadn’t seen him in before. God, did that man look good in glasses.

I nodded and climbed in. “This thing still runs?”

He scoffed, mock-offended. “Runs brilliantly. It’s a classic.”

“It’s a heap, Spence.” Spence. I’d never called him that before. It just slipped out, and it tasted good when it did.

“It’s a heap with soul,” he countered, pulling into traffic. He didn’t seem to acknowledge the nickname, but I noticed his cheeks blush a little bit. He settled his right palm against the warm skin of my thigh, filling the space above my knee but below the hem of my skirt.

The Smithsonian Planetarium was quiet by the time we got there — just a handful of couples and tourists milling around the lobby, murmuring over ticket stubs and constellation maps. Spencer whispered trivia in my ear while we waited for the doors to open, soft things like, “The light we’re seeing tonight left those stars before Shakespeare was born,” and “That one’s called the Winter Hexagon — six stars, all tied together.”

He was giddy in that understated, Spencer way — rambling facts under his breath and pushing his glasses up his nose with two fingers every time they slipped. I couldn’t stop smiling.

Once the doors opened and we settled in our seats inside, a comfortable silence fell between us. The lights dimmed so slowly I barely noticed it happening — first the dome above us went navy, then charcoal, then a black so deep it made me feel like I was floating. And then the stars came.

Thousands of them, blooming across the ceiling like a slow explosion — faint pinpricks at first, then constellations, galaxies, supernovas flaring to life as the narrator began to speak.

Soft music hummed in the background — a playlist full of Max Richter, Ólafur Arnalds, one movement of Spiegel im Spiegel sliding into a mournful cello piece that made the back of my eyes sting.

He leaned over, his breath warm against my ear. “That one,” he whispered, pointing up as a spiral galaxy rotated above us, “is Messier 51 — the Whirlpool Galaxy. It’s interacting with a smaller galaxy, which is slowly being absorbed. It’s been happening for millions of years.”

“So they’re crashing into each other?”

“Kind of. More like merging. It’s violent, but also… inevitable. They’ll become one galaxy eventually.”

“You’re making this sound romantic.”

He glanced at me, his crooked smile just barely visible in the dark. “A little destruction is romantic, sometimes.”

I swallowed hard and looked back up at the dome. The narrator was talking about stardust now — about how every element in our bodies was forged in the cores of long-dead stars, scattered by ancient explosions. “The calcium in your teeth,” she said, “the iron in your blood — all of it began in the heart of a dying star.”

“That always gets me,” Spencer whispered. “Stardust. It sounds cheesy, but it’s real. Every single atom in your body came from something ancient and violent.”

“Explains a lot about me,” I murmured.

He laughed softly. “You’re made of much better star stuff than you give yourself credit for.”

The stars kept moving. We drifted past Orion, past the Pleiades. Spencer leaned close again. “You know the story behind Andromeda?”

I shook my head.

“She was chained to a rock as a sacrifice, because her mother bragged she was more beautiful than the sea nymphs. So the gods demanded a punishment. But Perseus shows up, slays the sea monster, and saves her.”

“That’s awful,” I said. “And also… kind of hot.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Slaying a monster to save someone?”

“No,” I smirked. “The part where she’s chained to a rock,” I deadpanned, joking.

He choked on his own muted laughter and quickly looked around, half-convinced someone had overheard.

“I’m kidding,” I whispered, nudging his thigh with mine.

His hand found mine again in the dark, fingers interlacing gently but with that same thread of electricity running through it. Something sparking between us that no supernova could outshine.

Afterward, we walked slowly back to his car, and he didn’t let go. Not even when we passed a group of teenagers huddled around the fountain, or when I made a joke about him being the only man alive who would get teary-eyed over a projected simulation of Saturn’s rings.

“It’s the Cassini Division,” he said, feigning indignance. “It’s iconic.”

“Your brain is iconic,” I teased, bumping his shoulder.

He blushed down to his collar.

We ended up at the diner he’d mentioned in the infirmary — the one with chipped mugs and a neon clock on the wall, the kind of place that smelled like coffee creamer and buttered toast and hadn’t changed its menu since 1977. We each ordered pie: I got cherry; he got apple.

“You’ve got some whipped cream on your lip,” I giggled after a few bites.

He licked the wrong side.

“No, other side—” I leaned forward across the table and wiped it with my thumb. “You’re a disaster.”

“A disaster with excellent taste in desserts,” he corrected.

“Debatable.”

“Please. I did research. I picked this place based on data.”

“Oh my god, you ran an analysis on pie, didn’t you?”

“I did,” he said, completely serious. “And this one scored highest in texture, balance of sweetness, and mouthfeel.”

I cringed. “You just said mouthfeel in public. I hope you know I can never un-hear that.”

He laughed, full and genuine, and I thought to myself: god, I’m so screwed. Because somewhere between the stars and the whipped cream and the hand-holding in the dark, I realized I was falling. Not crashing. Not spiraling. Not in the violent way two galaxies merge. Just… falling. Falling for every part of him, every side he’d given me the privilege of seeing.

His palm found my thigh again on the drive home. Something about the energy in his car felt charged, and at one point, I caught him staring at me when he hadn’t realized the traffic light had turned green and a BMW behind us honked.

Once we got back to his apartment, the air shifted the second the door closed behind us. I’m not sure if his hands were on me first or the other way around, but however it happened, I was grateful.

We barely made it to the couch without stumbling into something. His hands found my hips and I pulled him in by the collar of his shirt, kissing him with a low, smoldering urgency I’d been sitting on since his lips brushed my ear in the planetarium. He responded just as hungrily — no hesitation, no nerves, just Spencer, warm and wanting, mouth on mine like he was starving for it. It felt like I could see his walls crumbling before my eyes.

I straddled him, settling into his lap on the couch like I belonged there, and he moaned low in his throat like he agreed. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me down harder against him, and I could feel him already through his pants — hard, insistent, twitching under me every time I rolled my hips.

“Fuck—”

“Do you want me to stop?” I asked, pausing my movements.

“No” he breathed. “God, no, I don’t want you to stop.”

We kissed deeper, rougher. I untucked his crisp buttoned shirt and let my hands slide up his skin underneath it, mapping his ribs, the slope of his chest. He gasped when I pinched his nipple playfully. “Sensitive, huh?”

“Apparently,” he chuckled.

His hands weren’t idle either — one sliding up my spine under my shirt and over my bra, the other gripping my ass with real purpose. I let him touch me like that — unselfconsciously, eagerly — because I wanted to be wanted like this. By him.

I rocked against him again, slower this time, and his head fell back against the cushions. “You’re going to kill me,” he said, eyes fluttering closed.

I kissed the side of his neck. “Not yet.”

He opened his eyes again, dazed but focused, as his fingers drifted under the lace covering my breasts. “Can I?” he whispered, already thumbing lightly at the fabric.

I nodded an immediate yes, and he tugged my shirt up over my head and then the bra down just enough to bare me to the room. He looked at me for a moment — really looked, like I was the most beautiful, bewildering thing he’d ever seen. I felt that look low in my belly and behind my ribs for hours after the fact.

His hands on my breasts were warm, gentle, reverent. Then his mouth followed.

He licked, kissed, sucked — slow and focused — like he was solving a riddle, unlocking pieces of a puzzle one by one. I was panting by the time he switched sides, tugging his hair, grinding down on him because I couldn’t help it.

When I reached between us and undid his belt, unzipping him, he didn’t stop me. Just let his head fall back again and hissed through his teeth when I palmed him through his briefs.

“You’re so hard,” I whispered. “Is this all from the stars, or me?”

He looked at me with a half-smile, eyes blown wide. “You.”

“Good answer,” I giggled.

I tugged at the waistband just enough to slip my hand inside. He was warm, heavy, and twitching under my palm as I started to stroke him properly. He bucked up against my palm, one hand clutching my hip now, the other digging into the couch cushion like he was trying desperately to hold onto something real.

When he slipped a hand down the front of my panties under my skirt, I gasped — not from surprise, but from how confident he was about it. It felt like he’d been imagining this for weeks. Practicing it in his mind, going over it in his head frame by frame.

“You’re soaked,” he whispered, fingers sliding between my folds.

He lifted me off his lap and laid me down on the couch, settling between my thighs as he pressed soft kisses down my body. The second his tongue touched me over my panties, I arched. He locked his fingers around the waistband and pulled the fabric down, kissing my inner thighs as he did, and once they were off, he looked up at me. I tangled a hand in his hair and took a steadying breath, offering silent permission for him to continue.

His mouth met my center without hesitation, and he licked with the kind of precision I should’ve expected from him — methodical, slow strokes that built pressure, then faster ones that made my thighs tremble. His hands gripped my hips hard, keeping me right where he wanted me.

“Fuck, Spencer,” I whined, tugging on his hair, breath catching, thighs tightening around his shoulders.

He moaned into me like he liked the way I sounded, like he wanted me loud. It only made it better — vibration deep and indulgent as he worked me harder, faster, then slowed again just to tease me. The kind of rhythm that bordered on cruelty. By the third time he worked me up, I was writhing.

“I’m close,” I warned, voice tight.

“Come for me,” he murmured against me, voice ruined. “Please.”

He wrapped is lips around my clit and I came with a cry that I couldn’t stifle, hips jerking, thighs clamped tight around his face as he worked me through it — greedy and gentle, like he didn’t want to stop, like he was still starved for my taste. One of his hands left my hip to tangle his fingers with mine as if to say I’m here, I’ve got you.

I was still catching my breath when I pulled him up to kiss me. He hesitated for a second, maybe out of courtesy, but I didn’t care. I wanted to taste myself on his lips. I needed tangible evidence that I hadn’t just imagined that entire experience.

“You’re perfect,” I murmured against his mouth. I didn’t give him a chance to answer — just shoved his boxers down the rest of the way and dropped to my knees on the carpet in front of him.

I looked up at him, asking with my eyes if I could keep going, and he took a shaky breath, nodding. He made a strangled sound the second I wrapped my hand around him, and a louder one when my mouth followed. His hands immediately gathered my hair out of my face and held it against the back of my head.

“Oh, fuck, baby—”

Baby. He’d never used any nickname or pet name for me before, let alone something as intimate as baby. I hummed around him in response.

I took him in slow at first, then deeper — flattening my tongue, hollowing my cheeks, working my hand where my mouth couldn’t reach. He was already so hard, leaking, twitching against my tongue. I moaned around him just to feel him pulse in response, and continued my ministrations with enthusiasm.

“You’re gonna make me—” One of his hands left my hair and hit the back of the couch, grasping blindly. “Jesus, you’re gonna make me come.”

“Good,” I whispered, pulling off just enough to meet his eyes, stroking him with my fingers. “I want to feel you.”

He grabbed my hair again, not rough — just holding on like he needed something to ground him — and I took him back into my mouth, fast and focused. I let his cock hit the back of my throat, eliciting a soft gag, and he groaned, deep and rumbly.

He came with a shudder and a broken gasp of my name, hips stuttering, fingers tightening in my hair as he spilled down my throat. I didn’t release him until he was gasping for breath, the sharp edge of his orgasm dissolving into something loose and messy and soft.

When I crawled back up to sit beside him, we didn’t talk right away. He pulled me close, kissed the side of my face, my shoulder, my temple. Eventually, I tucked my head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat slow.

“You’re unbelievable,” he murmured, still dazed.

I smiled into his skin. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

His hand slid slowly up my spine, fingertips trailing along my neck like he never wanted to stop touching me.

We just stayed like that for a while — tangled, flushed, quiet — the air thick with everything we weren’t saying, and everything we already knew:

That this was becoming something. That the flirtation that started in the prison infirmary wasn’t just flirtation. That we fit together, both in the way my body curled into his and in the way our lives had started to intersect and weave into one.

He looked at me like I was already his, and it scared the hell out of me — not because I didn’t want to be, but because I really, really did. I just hadn’t actually voiced that desire yet, and neither had he. It felt too big, too important, too fragile. He was still trying to re-enter society without breaking, and I was still finding my footing beside him.

Eventually, we made it to his bed, and he helped me dress in yet another one of his soft, worn t-shirts. We brushed our teeth side by side, and when he pulled me into him under the covers, I could’ve sworn my heart literally skipped a beat.

I was halfway asleep when I felt his lips brush my shoulder.

“I’m really glad you came with me tonight,” he said softly.

I turned my head back to look at him and smiled. “I’m really glad you asked. Best first date I’ve ever had,” I murmured back. His hand found mine beneath the blanket.

And as we drifted off together, the stars we’d watched earlier — the ones that had burned for centuries before humans ever noticed them — somehow felt a little less far away.

ᝰ.ᐟ

part v

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ourloveisforthelovely · 5 months ago

Text

Away (Part 2)

Regulus Black AU

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader

Rating: T- mentions of abuse

Summary: Growing up in abusive homes has finally reached its breaking point. Regulus comes to run away with you in the middle of the night. Its time for a new life.

Link to Part 1

Link to AO3

____

An hour later, you stood outside of what must have been Sirius’ home. You weren't sure how Regulus had found the address. In the time that Sirius had been gone from the Black family, Regulus never uttered his brother’s name. Something told you that it wasn’t out of anger from Sirius’ departure. It was probably to keep himself safe. That made sense now.

“Regulus, what are we going to tell him?”

You asked. Regulus stood staring at the door. He was nervous about facing his brother but didn’t understand why. Regulus never blamed Sirius for leaving. He was a little moody that Sirius didn’t take him with him when he left but he understood Sirius’ reasoning. Sirius didn’t have a safe place for Regulus to tag along to. He also couldn’t ask the Potters to take in two children unexpectedly.

“The truth. He’s my brother. He’ll understand.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

You questioned. While you never had an issue with Sirius, you were unsure if he would be willing to entertain the idea of letting the two of you stay. Would you be putting him in an uncomfortable position? Would you be asking too much?

Regulus squeezed your hand.

“Then we will figure something out. Please don’t worry. You know that I will never let anything happen to you.”

“I know that, love.”

You replied as Regulus knocked on the door.

“It will be fine.”

Regulus murmured as the door opened.

Sirius’ mouth dropped the moment that he saw the two of you. Clearly, this was the LAST thing that he ever expected to happen.

“Regulus? Y/n?”

Sirius was stunned, to say the least. He thought after leaving to go to the Potter’s, his brother wanted nothing to do with him. Now here he stood…with an extremely bruised face.

Regulus took a breath before speaking.

“Hi, Sirius. We need your help.”

Sirius continued to stare stupidly at Regulus for a few moments before remembering that he could speak.

“Come inside.”

He managed to get out before moving out of the way. Sirius’ eyes dropped to Regulus’s hand that was still wrapped around yours.

Good. They are still together.

You were one of the few things that Sirius was glad Regulus held onto. If there could be one good thing in Regulus’ life you were it. You were the good example that Regulus needed to follow.

Sirius led the two of you into a small sitting room where Remus sat with a book on his lap. When he noticed Regulus and yourself step in, he automatically frowned and closed said book.

Regulus was no fool. He knew that Remus saw his face. That was going to be the topic of discussion until the bruising healed and he looked normal again.

“Okay, what in the hell is going on? What happened to your face?”

Sirius asked, sitting down on the arm of the couch beside Remus. Regulus sighed.

“I think you know what happened to my face.”

Sirius was on his feet in an instant and began pacing. He was totally enraged! Walburga was hitting Regulus again. Sirius had hoped that since he left, his parents would use that as a reason to treat Regulus better. Clearly, that was not the case.

“Why is she hitting you?”

Regulus shrugged. He hated that he had to say this in front of you. He knew that you probably had a feeling but that didn't make saying it in your presence any easier.

“Mum doesn’t approve of Y/n. I told her that I wasn’t going to give her up to marry some dolt that they picked out for me. After that…she really let me have it.”

Your hand tightened around Regulus’.

"If I didn’t hate Walburga before. I have a reason now.”

You thought as Sirius ran a hand through his hair.

“There is nothing wrong with Y/n. The two of you have been together since you were fucking 12. I couldn’t have picked a better girl for you. She has made you less…Black family like. I should go over and beat the hell out of dad and see how they like it.”

You gave Sirius a thankful smile as he continued on a rage filled tangent for a few moments. Regulus waited a moment before speaking. He knew that Sirius would be angry. If there was another thing that Regulus could give his brother credit for it was his protective nature. It didn’t matter how old Regulus was, Sirius always kept a protective eye on him.

“That is why I married her.”

Silence filled the room. Sirius had stopped his raging and fell back down onto the couch while Remus’ mouth dropped again. Remus was the first to speak this time.

“How did you marry her? The two of you are 16 years old. “

Regulus groaned.

“We lied! You don’t grow up in the Black family without stretching the truth on something.”

Remus muttered ��oh shit” under his breath while Sirius moved to the edge of the couch.

“The two of you are 16.”

“Yes, we know.”

Regulus replied.

“What do either of you know about being married? What if you change your mind?”

“We won’t.”

Regulus again replied. Sirius took a breath.

“What do you want me to say?”

Regulus held his hands up.

“I wanted you to know. I would have felt silly just showing up and not saying anything! Look, I married Y/n because I love her. If she and I are married, mum and dad won’t be able to split us up. I’m not going to change my mind and neither is Y/n. We will both be legal in a few months. I know it may sound crazy to you two but to us it felt right. I had to keep Y/n safe too. Her dad is as bad as mum. I couldn’t stand by anymore and see her being hurt.”

Sirius looked between Regulus and yourself with a sad expression. This was another thing that he didn’t see coming. He didn’t expect Regulus to get married until he was made to. Whether it be to you or someone else, Regulus wasn’t one to step outside of his comfy little bubble that he made for himself.

Remus stopped his pacing and turned to face the two of you.

“You both realize how serious this is, right? Not only serious, but it will be difficult. Most marriages that start this young won’t last. Statistically…”

Regulus immediately cut Remus off.

“I know the statistics but we will be different. I simply need the two of you to have some faith in us. I also need help staying safe from mum and dad…not only mum and dad…”

Sirius frowned again.

“Who else is there?”

Regulus pressed his lips together.

“There is more that I haven’t told you. The death eaters have been trying to recruit me for some time now. You know there are only so many times that you can say no to those people.”

Regulus ignored the look of pain on your face. He hadn’t exactly told you about the death eaters trying to recruit him. You weren’t surprised. With the way the Blacks supported Voldemort and all of the dark magic Regulus knew it was only a matter of time. The dark lord probably saw a load of potential in Regulus…a potential that you didn’t want to think of.

Sirius was on his feet again.

“Nope, you aren’t going back. No way in hell are you going back…fuck it. I’ll go tell mum that she can take a toaster to the bathtub. Neither of you are going back to this shit.”

Remus nodded in agreement. He had a dark feeling that the dark lord would, at some point, find something good in Regulus. Remus has only been hoping that he would be wrong.

“The two of you can stay here. It would only make sense.”

You decided it was your time to speak. From the moment that Regulus had come to whisk you away, you had felt that your life was spiraling. You needed to regain some control.

“We can help too with whatever you have going on. We don’t want to be part of the problem that is happening in our world.”

Sirius nodded.

“The two of you are adult enough to get married so I think you are old enough to make a decision on who you support. I will warn you that it isn’t always easy…sometimes it's dangerous.”

“You can’t stop a madman sitting at home knitting a scarf.”

You replied. Sirius focused his attention back on your hand. Right away he noticed the engagement ring that his grandmother had specifically given to Regulus.

“No, you can’t. What is going to happen when your parents come looking for the two of you. Are you going to say that you love each other and that's what it's all about?”

You smirked at your now brother-in-law.

“No, that is the hokey pokey. We’ll figure it out when it happens. You made it when you ran away. I think we will be able to also.”

Sirius wanted to argue. He wanted to say that he knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Walburga and Orion would probably put up more of a fight for Regulus. Sirius always felt like he was the “practice” kid while Regulus was the son that they had always wanted. Regulus was the one that they seemed to not make most of the same mistakes with.

Regulus focused his attention back on his brother while absentmindedly stroking his thumb over your palm.

“I don’t care what mum and dad have to say. I will do whatever I can to keep us safe.”

Sirius was satisfied enough with that response. It appeared that Regulus was not being selfish. He was no longer the arrogant self-absorbed child that he used to be. It appeared that he had finally grown up.

“One question?”

Sirius asked as Regulus turned back to him.

“Yes?

“Is she pregnant?”

Both Regulus and yourself shook your heads. That was one of the LAST things that you even wanted to think of. Children had been something that you had discussed with Regulus. At the time, that was something that neither of you were interested in.

“We can barely take care of ourselves. It would be foolish to even think of such a thing.”

You commented.

“I don’t even like kids.”

Regulus added. While he didn’t mind taking care of you, the thought of another being so dependent on him for every small thing sounded absolutely miserable. He also didn’t want to entertain the thought of losing his precious sleep. Being up in the middle of the night with some angry human screaming at you while you were sleep-deprived was a horror that Regulus didn’t even want to entertain.

Both Sirius and Remus were relieved to hear that.

“Well, you are the responsible one.”

Sirius commented before leaning back into the couch. For the first time in a while, he was feeling somewhat better with the events happening.

“It's settled then. The two of you can stay here. You can stay as long as you would like.”

“Thank you.”

Regulus said as Remus turned to the doorway.

“Come on. I’ll show you to the guest room.”

Once the three of you were out of the room, Sirius ran a hand over his face feeling even more exhausted. He hated knowing that the two of you were having to grow up so fast but, unfortunately, it was just another sign of the times.

“Well, he’s not a little boy anymore.”

(meanwhile at Grimmauld Place)

Walburga sat in her sitting room, stirring a cup of tea. She was seething in anger after the altercation with Regulus.

Just what does he think he is doing falling in love with some halfblood? That boy was raised better. He knows better than to associate with scum. I’ll just have to beat it out of him. I can break him.

Walburga thought coldly. While she adored her youngest son, she was not about to let him throw his life away for a woman not worthy of him. She would not sit back and watch a half blood leach onto the family name and fortune. The family had worked too long and too hard to deviate from their Toujours Pur motto.

Why the men in this family must be so weak is beyond me.

She thought coldly. Men in the Black family being “weak” had been Walburga’s soapbox for a long time. From her brother Alphard to even her husband, Walburga constantly called the lot of them weak. Now, her baby was even stepping into that thought process.

Like his useless weakling of a father, he can’t say no to a pretty face.

Walburga was certain that she could find Regulus a suitable pureblood girl to marry. He didn’t have to love her. Regulus could hate her for all Walburga cared. He did, however, have a role to complete. Since her blood traitor of a son left the family, everything fell on Regulus. Walburga had a strange feeling anyway that Regulus would be the one to complete everything anyway.

“Walburga?”

Her brooding was interrupted when Orion stepped into her sitting room. Glaring at her husband, Walburga didn’t like when her “me time” was interrupted.

“What is it?”

She snapped. Orion immediately rolled his eyes. Why he put up with so much from this bitch of a woman was still a mystery of itself.

Oh, right. I have to.

Orion thought coldly before speaking.

“I was curious, did you let Regulus go out after we told him that he was to stay home?”

Walburga frowned.

“I told him to stay in his room until he was ready to admit that he was wrong and wanted to apologize. Why do you ask?”

Orion shrugged.

“I just came from his room and he isn’t there.”

Walburga’s typical frown intensified as she got up and started for the stairs.

“Regulus!”

She screeched his name as she practically kicked the door open. Walburga had been hoping that Orion was simply not opening his eyes properly and Regulus would be sitting on his bed. Unfortunately, it appeared that her head was right.

Inside Regulus’ room, everything was just as it had been. The bed was neatly made and all of Regulus’ belongings in orderly places. The only thing missing was Regulus himself.

Walburga walked around the room looking for any signs of her youngest son’s whereabouts. Finding nothing, Walburga turned to scowl at Orion.

“Have you checked the rest of the house?”

Again Orion rolled his eyes. This was yet another reason why he absolutely hated the woman that he was married to. She was downright ignorant. Walburga seemed to take pride in trying to make him feel as dumb as she was but always failed miserably.

“If you think that I am too stupid to take the initiative to look all over the house before I come to check with you then you are most welcome to scour the house yourself. I’ll be in my study when you discover that I am correct in my assessment that Regulus is missing.”

Walburga growled before shouting Kreacher’s name. A moment passed before the old house elf popped into the room.

“You called, my mistress?”

Walburga turned to the elf.

“Kreacher, where is Regulus?”

Kreacher looked hesitant for a moment. He knew exactly what Regulus was doing and didn’t want to out him. Kreacher knew, sadly, he had no choice but to tell Walburga the truth.

“Master Regulus has left. He said that he was leaving. Master Regulus didn’t exactly say where.”

Kreacher decided to slightly embellish that he didn’t know where Regulus was going. He knew. Kreacher had seen Regulus take the engagement ring from the desk drawer. If Regulus was going anywhere, it was to you.

Walburga stood motionless for a moment before screaming. Both Kreacher and Orion jumped slightly. Neither party was expecting that loud of a noise so suddenly.

Neither said anything for a few moments as Walburga stood stewing in her rage. Walburga immediately stomped over to the desk where the engagement ring lay. She hoped that she was wrong but something told her to check on her mother’s ring.

Pulling the drawer open, Walburga felt around until a small velvet box touched her fingertips. She quickly pulled the box out and opened it. Just as she suspected, there was nothing in the box. Her mother’s ring was gone just like her youngest child.

“He took the ring.”

“What ring?”

Orion questioned as Walburga turned. She glared at him as if he was the single most stupid being on the earth. Throwing the empty box at her husband’s chest, Walburga started yelling at Orion again.

“My mother’s ring, you fool! The engagement ring that she left Regulus is gone! He has probably taken it and ran off with that half blood bitch!”

___

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ireadwithmyears · 8 months ago

Note

Hi! Would you be able to write something for the clones (any of them) with a reader who has a guide dog. I've been running into a lot of issues with people trying to distract her and borderline harassing us (the president of my university follows us around with his unleashed dog running up to us, someone grabbed her nose when we were on a bus and then screamed at us, I'm a biology/genetics major so we get some subtle discrimination in academic opportunities like research projects, etc). Also I don't currently live somewhere with public transportation so I have to take Uber to get anywhere which is a whole other nightmare (a driver dropped us off at the wrong location and I was stuck in a sketchy part of town for 45 minutes while drivers kept denying us a ride). Maybe something with how the clones would comfort/handle their SO dealing with these things. Obviously you don't have to write about all of these scenarios, just some ideas

You don't have to of course, but I figured it was worth an ask:)

Looking Out for You:Part 1

Pairing: Commander Fox/fem Reader

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Visually impaired reader masterlist

Word count: 4.1 K

Tags/warnings: Visually impaired reader, meet cute, grumpy x sunshine vibes, denial of feelings(Fox falls first, he falls hard, and he denies it every single step of the way because he’s Fox), guide dog cuteness, brief mention of ableism(this chapter is pretty tame, but in future installments, I intend to explore these elements more deeply, specifically as they pertain to service dog users. These topics aren’t always the most comfortable to discuss. But I feel they are important to bring awareness to)

Summary: Making the transition from your small, rural homeworld to Coruscant already promises to be tough. But when you’re employed to work at the Senate buildings directly under senator Organa and you’re also a guide dog user, things quickly become more complicated, in a variety of ways. Luckily, you seem to have caught the eye of a certain Marshal commander, who swears up and down that he’s not falling in love with you, but who, regardless, always has your back, and is always looking out for you.

A.k.a.

The three times Fox makes sure that you get home safely. Plus the one time he ends up following you inside

Authors note: Hii anon. I was so happy to hear from you and received this request. As a fellow guide dog user, I have so many different experiences that I feel are worth sharing, so that more people are aware of the trials we face because as amazing as it is that we have these incredible animals, it isn’t always just a nice walk in the park. Which leads me to my next point. Because of all of these experiences that I want to highlight, this 1shot quickly evolved into a four part series, to give it the proper breathing room that I feel it deserves. I hope that’s okay, and I hope you still like this one. If you’d like to message me privately so that I can make sure you’re tagged in each subsequent update, please do. I’d be happy to do that

The first time it happens, Fox is admittedly running on his default, which is to say in plain terms that he is annoyed.

“Why is this my problem?”

Fox winces upon hearing the barely concealed snarl in his own voice through his helmet speakers. He could have phrased that better. He should have at least taken the courtesy to add “with all due respect” when leading into that sentence, even if both he and the trooper who has the misfortune of being at the other end of the line are both fully aware that he doesn’t intend to sound respectful in the slightest.

There’s a pause, a hesitation on the other end of the coms, which causes Fox to silently berate himself for his initial sharp tone. He reminds himself, as he does about 500 times daily, that he needs to be more careful with it.

This warning, for some reason, always falls on deaf ears. But still, Fox wagers that he at least keeps trying, and who knows, maybe one of these days, it’ll actually stick. It probably won’t.

“It’s just that the issue is occurring at the entrance closest to your office, sir,” the trooper begins before rushing to add, “but if you’re busy, we can send—”

“Don’t bother,” Fox sighs. “I’m already on my way there.”

Maybe he shouldn’t be on such a high horse, but really, being sent to investigate a loitering complaint is far above what he, as a marshall commander, should be doing. Despite this though, he privately admits that he’s been looking for an excuse to stand up from his desk chair and stretch his legs. Maybe if he’s lucky, he'll manage to shake off the aching twinge in his left shoulder, hunched from filling out a last-minute stack of crime reports that he had been on the scene of, all from the previous night between the hours of 1 to 3 in the morning. So really, he rationalizes, can anyone blame him for being more than a little bit pissed off at the interruption?

Maybe it’s a sign that he needs a refill on his caf.

He rounds the corner and, with what is in hindsight probably more force than is necessary, smacks a hand against an access panel. The door slides open, and a cool breeze hits him as he steps outside into the open air.

His eyes scan through the visor of his helmet, and to his annoyance he doesn’t see the suspected loiterer that he had been warned of, at least not at first.

Sighing, he steps further out and past the awning above the entrance. Though the air is cool, the sun still shines, and the slight glow causes his eyes to catch on the gloss of your hair as you walk past, eyes nervous as they flick around. Sensing his presence, you pause, shoulders stiffening slightly as you turn to face him with trepidation. Fox also takes notice, his eyes widening in momentary surprise when he observes the guide dog harnessed at your left side, looking up at you with big brown eyes, as if silently trying to understand your sudden hesitance.

You, of course, have every reason to be suspicious of any unannounced or unidentified presence in your vicinity, especially now that you’re living on Coruscant. But, if you’re honest, you’re already on edge, and even though it’s still morning, the day has promised to be shit if the beginning of it is any indication.

Senator Organa isn’t in the habit of firing his junior staff for small mistakes like this, you remind yourself. Still, the thought, no matter how many times you’ve repeated it like a mantra at this point, doesn’t manage to calm your growing nerves, because regardless you’re still lost, and you’re still running late. You silently curse the pitfalls of being blind and using a ride-sharing service, and then you have to restrain yourself from cursing aloud when your eyes land on the silhouette parked a few meters in front of you.

You don’t have much vision. But with what you do have, it’s enough to deduce bright, contrasting colors. And the red splotches against white armor has you stopping dead in your tracks, because within the span of two seconds, a cold clarity settles within your stomach, because the red and white armor is distinctly and unmistakably that of a Coruscant Guard member, the visor of his helmet tilted, looking no doubt with suspicion directly at you.

Resisting the urge to bemoan the shortage of orientation and mobility droids designed to assist with transitions like this—which would have ensured that you would have been able to smoothly get yourself out of this situation in the first place—you bring your guide dog to heel before gesturing for her to sit, then slowly and hesitantly raise your eyes to the trooper, already feeling a mix of anxiety and guilt stirring in the pit of your stomach.

There’s a small sound from his helmet, a hesitation as he seems to clear his throat before speaking.

“Personal Senatorial aides aren’t permitted to use this entrance,” he says, gesturing to the badge on the lanyard that hangs around your neck.

He speaks as if this is a reminder that he’s given more than once, which you’re sure he has. Still, there’s an underlying sharpness to it that makes you jump despite your efforts not to react.

“I, I know,” you say, swallowing before rushing to continue. “I didn’t mean to be dropped off here, sir. I took a Speedershare to get here this morning, and I didn’t realize the driver dropped me off at this entrance until I got out, and by that point it was too late, and I should have asked to verify which one he was going to but—”

“Hey, easy. Slow down.”

The trooper steps closer to you, and it’s only then that you register that you’ve been rambling, your anxiety ratcheting up with each word. Now that you’re silent, you can feel the way your heart is pounding. You’ve seen the Guard around, of course, but you’ve never really interacted with any of them. He’s tall, you realize as he stands in front of you and you look up into the visor of his helmet. Tall and broad, and you were already nervous before he showed up.

But his hands are raised, in supplication or as an offering of peace, you’re not sure. But regardless, he doesn’t seem on the verge of scolding you further for your silly mistake, which is good, because your nerves are still so frayed from getting out of your ride only to realize that you had no idea where you were, and that apart from knowing that you were somewhere at the Senate building, you were effectively lost and alone. A scolding, delivered with just the right amount of displeasure, would probably be enough to make you start crying, which would make this day go from being the worst to certifiably irredeemable.

“Speedershare isn’t always the most reliable service. Your employer is Senator Organa,” he says, eyes once again scanning over your badge. “I’m sure he could arrange an alternate transportation service that is much more consistent and professional for you to use.”

“I don’t want his charity,” you say, and you can’t help the hard edge that creeps into your voice when you speak.

But really, you don’t. You know that he could, and knowing Senator Organa, he would be happy to do so. But it’s unnecessary. You grew up needing extra accommodations and things that, despite your teachers’ constant stream of reassurances, always made you feel singled out.

You’re an adult now, and you don’t want that. You don’t need his charity, his pity, or to be added to his ever-growing list of things to worry about at the beginning and end of each day—an item to be checked off.

As far as you’re concerned, the best thing you can do for the both of you is to keep this to yourself, and you’ll figure out how to manage sooner or later.

Fox takes a step back, able to recognize your quick deflection of his suggestion as a sign that he’s slightly overstepped, and he nods, glancing towards the door.

“Well,” he says, forcing his voice to sound lighter. “I suppose I could let you off the hook this once and let you use this entrance.”

“Thank you,” you say, before hesitantly adding, “I, I’m not familiar with the route to get to Senator Organa’s office from where we are. Would you, I mean, you don’t have to if you’re busy, but—”

“I’ll take you there,” he cuts you off, finality in his voice. “Do you, uh, need a guide or anything?”

Fox internally kicks himself for not knowing how to handle a situation like this, but you give your head a small shake, which allows him a moment of relief.

“The color on your armor is bright,” you respond, and for the first time in this interaction, you smile. He can’t help but admire the way it seems to transform you, your previous nerves and worry disappearing like the sun breaking through the clouds. It’s quite lovely, he observes, and then internally kicks himself just a bit harder as punishment for that traitorous thought.

Useless, he scolds. Unnecessary. But it’s already been thought, and he can’t take it back. He’s grateful for the helmet concealing his face, hiding the way his lips repeatedly twitch in an effort to turn upward as he hears you, your voice giving a soft, encouraging command, and the slight pitter patter of paws against pavement as your guide dog leads you to follow after him.

He firmly resolves not to speak unless necessary until he’s taken you to the senator's office.

This resolve lasts for less than two minutes before he feels the slight brush of a wet nose against his hand and hears a small sniffing sound at his hip. Turning his head, he finds your guide dog, who has stopped walking and is sniffing at a pouch around his waist, and you looking sheepish as you stand behind him.

“Mandalore, leave it,” you scold, your voice lower than he’s heard it and with a suddenly authoritative edge that has his eyes widening slightly. You’re so little, he thinks, and all you’ve ever been whilst interacting with him is timid and quiet like a mouse. Seeing that side of you, as if flipped on by a switch, well...he can’t help but be taken by slight surprise. You pull back the harness, giving it a slight shake and the dog, with obvious reluctance, backs off, abandoning its curiosity.

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly, your cheeks heating with a blush. His hand twitches of its own accord, struck with an unexplained urge to reach out and touch, wondering if he would feel the warmth of your cheek beneath his gloved fingers.

Kriff, his internal monologue groans, disgusted. What the fuck is wrong with you today? He refocuses, looking down at you and shaking his head.

“Your dog’s name is Mandalore?” he asks, genuinely curious and unable to hide the amusement in his voice.

You laugh, nodding your head. “The one and only,” you grin. “Certain training schools do things differently. But the one we went to likes to name each litter by theme, and hers happened to be planets.”

You lower your voice, leaning in conspiratorially with a slight twinkle in your eye.

“You know, for a Mandalore, she doesn’t look very intimidating, does she?” you ask, and he’s surprised, startled even, to hear the snort of laughter that is pulled from him as he nods his head, looking down at the guide dog who’s unaffected, her professional mask barely concealed behind a tail that wags at him and big, pleading eyes that seem to pierce through his soul.

“No, she really doesn’t,” he agrees, and your grin widens.

“I’ve always joked that if a burglar broke into my house, she wouldn’t bark or growl or try to bite at them,” you say, still smiling as you continue to walk. “She would simply flop down on the ground at their feet and roll over to demand a belly rub.”

“Well…” he says, and faintly, in the back of his head, he registers that he’s

actually smiling. Huh, he thinks, taken slightly off-guard by the strange feeling. He can’t remember the last time that’s happened. It’s almost slightly disturbing. “If she’s not a fighter, she at least has some good distraction tactics.”

You laugh, your previous nerves surrounding getting lost and being late all but forgotten. It’s a nice sound, bright and lively, and Fox, the Maker help him, finds that he wants to hear it again.

“She probably smells the treats I keep in my pouch for Grizzer,” Fox explains, slightly rueful. He rolls his eyes and pretends to dislike it every time Hound brings the massiff to his office, citing that his panting is distracting, and that his drool gets everywhere, which is disgusting. Those things are both true. But Fox also can’t help but appreciate the warm weight of Grizzer’s head against his leg or the large, imploring eyes the massiff gives him when he knows that Fox has food.

“I figured it would be unprofessional of me to offer one to her,” he continues, and you nod your head, glancing down.

“It would, but...” you begin slowly, calculating as you clock the staircase you’re approaching and turning your head to look up at him as a slow smile pulls at the corners of your lips. “If you give it to me, I could give it to her by proxy if you want.”

He nods, unzipping the small pouch, guiding you to hold out your hand as he places several small treats on the palm of it, which already has the dog vibrating with eagerness. But you don’t give in right away.

“Forward,” you say, gesturing your head to the small set of stairs. The added incentive makes the dog quick on her feet, and you have to tell her to slow down as she rushes to comply, guiding you towards the stairs, barely able to contain the excited trot in her step. “Okay, Mandalore, show me where the railing is.”

The guide dog turns slightly, changing course to lead you towards the railing on the far right, placing her front paws up on the stairs and pausing, turning her head to look up at you for approval.

“Yes,” you beam, stroking a hand along her head. “You learn so fast. Good girl.”

Fox watches, a smile on his face as you hold out your hand with the treats, giving it a few taps against the railing before opening your palm, offering it to her. She eagerly gobbles them up without hesitation, her tail never ceasing its happy little wiggles, which makes Fox want to laugh.

“You know,” he says, stepping up beside you and beginning to mount the stairs. “On second thought, maybe she is a fighter. I mean, she looked like she was ready to take off your fingers along with the treats.”

“When it comes to food, she definitely is,” you say with a grin, following after him. “If only all burglars came covered in peanut butter or dog treats, I’d feel much safer about our odds.”

You both snicker, and the rest of the journey up to the senators’ offices passes in a relatively comfortable silence apart from Fox giving you a few quiet directions as you make your way through the halls. You never fail to turn your head and smile at him each time he warns you of a crowd of people incoming so you can maybe take a step to the side, or if you need to turn left or right at this next intersection.

He isn’t sure how to describe it, but his heart does something strange each time you do.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience...” you trail off, uncertain of the trooper’s name as you stand outside the doorway to Senator Organa’s office.

“Fox,” he responds, and he’s quickly struck by the strangeness of how he felt compelled to give you his chosen name first instead of his rank. That, he thinks, is definitely odd and out of the ordinary, but he recovers himself quickly. “Commander Fox,” he adds, and your cheeks rapidly heat with a blush.

“Oh, Force,” you groan, covering your cheeks with your hands and closing your eyes, mortified. “I’m sorry, Commander. I didn’t mean to inconvenience so much of your time.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, and the brush of gloved fingers against your arm is barely there, brief and gone in an instant, but it’s enough to startle you out of your embarrassment, your eyes widening as you look up at him. “It wasn’t an inconvenience,” he says, sounding so sincere that you lose any ability to respond to that, falling into a silence in which the both of you simply stand, contemplating each other.

Fox, for his part, is struck by the realization that, for once, he means every word he’s just said.

“Well,” you say, blinking as you try to shake yourself out of your stupor. “Regardless of the circumstances, it was lovely to meet you, Commander, and if we ever encounter each other again, you may want to introduce yourself by name if we speak. Every trooper shares the same voice, which makes it much harder for me to differentiate between you all, and I’d hate to mistake you for someone else and embarrass the both of us any further. At least, more than I probably already have.”

“Right,” he says, equally as slowly and strangely hesitant for this conversation to end but not knowing what else to add. “Understood.”

“I should go,” you say, feeling suddenly shy as you give him a small smile and turn to the door. “See you around, Commander,” you murmur, giving him a playful wink.

You step into the office, not waiting for his response. It takes him a full 30 seconds of just standing there out in the hall listening to the sound of dog paws tapping against the floor, growing distant as you move out of his listening range, to realize that you left him—completely and deliberately if the smirk that was pulling at the corners of your lips was any indication—with a blind joke.

He chokes, uncertain of if he’s allowed to laugh—of if it would be completely inappropriate for him to laugh. His cheeks heat with belated awkward embarrassment. He shakes his head, making a note as he forces his feet to move and forces himself to walk away, heading back in the direction of his office.

The next time he sees you—and he can’t help the strange and foreign hope that twinges in his chest at even the thought of seeing you again—he’ll have to ask you.

Until then, he thinks, giving himself a firm shake as he maneuvers himself through the halls of the Senate building. He resolves to keep you—the girl with the pretty smile, the hair that looks like it was made to run fingers through, and the infectious laugh that he still hears clear as a bell even now that you’re gone—far from his thoughts, ordering himself to stop acting like some sort of lovesick puppy and for kriff sake to just get back to work.

Fox, to his consternation, is unsuccessful.

The whole day, as he goes about his tasks—filling out reports, sending requisitions to the Senate, doing patrol—he can’t stop thinking about you.

Your smile as you tilted your head to look up at him, your warm, encouraging demeanor as you worked with your guide dog, the excitable pup looking up at you like you’re her whole galaxy, the way that he had been able to make you genuinely laugh...

Okay, maybe his bar for sharing friendly interactions with natborns was insanely low up to this point. But knowing that he had brought that out of you had felt strangely good, leaving a warm, unfamiliar feeling in his stomach that lingered every time he thought of it.

He’s so unsuccessful at keeping his mind off of you during the workday that it’s still early in the afternoon when he pulls up your file on the database, scrolls through your work schedule, and at the end of the day is standing outside of Senator Organa’s office waiting for your shift to end.

When he sees you come out, Mandalore, sensing his presence before you do, happily begins to waggle her tail, her footsteps quickening as she leads you out of the office. He calls out to you, and you turn, searching for the voice.

“It’s Fox,” he says, removing his helmet and tucking it beneath his arm. “From this morning.”

Is he imagining it, or do your eyes actually light up when you spot him?

“I just wanted to make sure that your ride picks you up without complication,” he continues. “Not that I don’t think you can do that on your own,” he rushes to add, his cheeks heating slightly. He’s already gotten the sense that you don’t like being underestimated, and he respects that. “I can make sure that you have detailed instructions in the app so that your driver knows exactly which entrance to collect you.”

“That would actually be super helpful!” you exclaim, and there’s no masking the relief in your voice as you pull out your comm, fiddling with it for a second before passing it to him. “I’ve been meaning to ask someone to update them, because I have a vague idea of what each entrance looks like and how to describe them, but honestly, I don’t think it’s enough to be helpful.”

He takes the device from you, and working quickly, types up detailed directions on how to get to the staff entrance along with a description of its surroundings. He pastes a copy into your notes for good measure so that you’re able to keep reusing it at your convenience. He explains all this to you as he passes it back, letting you know your ride is booked.

“You’re an angel, Fox,” you say in a relieved breath, beaming up at him. “Moving here has been so stressful as it is, and getting used to the transit options is just one more thing on top of that.”

You miss the way his cheeks go pink, but you do catch his quiet, breathy chuckle as he awkwardly avoids your gaze.

“Right, well,” he scratches at the back of his neck, looking down at the ground. “Your ride should be here soon. Want me to come with you and make sure it shows up?”

“I don’t want to hold you up if you have other things to do,” you say uncertainly, biting your lip.

The truth is, you so badly want to say yes. Waiting for a Speedershare on your own can be anxiety inducing. So many things can go wrong. Your driver might not be able to find you, and when they call and ask you for directions, you aren’t able to provide them with much help. They could drive past and cancel altogether once they realize you have a service dog. Or worse, they can turn it into a full out yelling confrontation. In all cases, you’ve learned, your anxiety is significantly lessened if someone else is with you, ready to back you up at a moment's notice.

It’s true, you’ve only met Fox today. But his presence is steady, safe, and you get the sense that he would stay without question and without hesitation. But you also don’t want to become his burden.

“You’re not,” he states, hooking his helmet to his belt. “And I’m not. Come on, let’s go find your ride.”

And that’s exactly what he does.

He leads you out towards the pick-up point, and when the speeder gets there, he verifies the plates, opens the door, and helps you inside, waiting patiently for your guide dog to tuck in her tail before beginning to let it close. Before it does though, before it drives away and you’re left wondering if and when you’ll ever see him again, he speaks, his voice low and carrying the softest, lightest undertone of teasing.

“See you around, mesh’la.”

It takes you a moment, but as you drive off, the echo of the words you had jokingly thrown over your shoulder at him just this morning flashes through your memory, and before you know it, you’re tipping your head back against the headrest of the seat, quietly laughing to yourself, uncaring of the driver giving you a funny look from the corner of his eye as he picks up speed, driving away from the Senate building.

You’re still smiling as the speeder rounds the corner, and the building, as well as Marshall Commander Fox, disappears from view.

If you like and enjoy this story, please consider dropping a reblog, as you might help someone else find something they enjoy just as much. Thank you :-) and thank you to @strangergraphics-archive for such cute puppy dividers

#commander fox x reader #commander fox x you #marshall commander fox #commander fox #cc 1010 #clone commander fox #star wars fanfiction #The clone wars fanfiction #star wars #tcw #fanfiction #sw the clone wars #the clone wars #clone wars #star wars the clone wars #tcw fox #Ireadwithmyears fics

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neuvilette-tea-party · 2 months ago

Note

Hii! I adore the way you write steb. Could I pretty please request a steb×reader fic where they're colleagues and maybe even friends, but the reader is possibly of some higher ranking. The reader realizes that steb's and other non-human enforcers' uniforms aren't designed with their needs in mind (collar hurts his gills, helmet is in the way of his face frills etc.) and decides to take that issue to the higer ups to get them uniforms tailored for them. And when steb gets the new uniform and finds out that reader made that happen he realizes just how much attention reader has been paying to him. Because he isn't the type of person to complain but the reader cares about him so much they can tell what botheres him.

Also just to let you know, I've send in something similar to another steb account a long time ago but never received an answer. So if it makes you uncomfortable to write this because someone might eventually write it too that's ok, I understand. 💐❤️

~🍒

Interesting premise!

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆Steb x GN!reader☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

Tags: Reader is a superior officer, Steb is selectively non-verbal, secret relationship, fluff

"We will study that proposition, Captain (Y/n)." The lady of the council simply responds.

You remain mute.

That's all? 'we will study the proposition'?

"Ma'am, I think there is not mutch to study and I made my point very clear-"

"You did. That doesn't allow us to bypass the process.”

"Ma'am I must insist."

"You will understand that is not a priority for us right now." She retorts.

"Not a priority? Ma'am, you asked me to find ways to help our enforcers to be at the top of their games for the incoming war, this is a crucial aspect."

"Modifying one or two buttons is not crucial in any capacity. Good day, Captain (F/n)."

"Ma'am, I-"

"I said good day, Captain!" She stands up from her seat menacingly.

You swallow back a venomous response and stand to attention before leaving.

Idiots!

You look back at your papers, all those modifications you meticulously noted throughout the month. Those modifications could be the difference between life and death for your enforcers on the battlefield. They wanted you to help design new weapons, not facilitate the liberty of movement of the agents, not facilitate their breathing, not ensure their survival with a larger range of actions.

You sigh.

You need somene higher... But who?

You stop dead in your tracks.

Caitlyn Kiramman.

She is terribly busy and probably won't receive you, but... In life, you need some audacity. You spin and take a new corridor. As you walk, you cross paths with Steb and Maddie, discussing the incoming mission.

They both stand to attention at your arrival.

"At ease." You say, nodding to them.

Those modifications could mean the survival of every Vastaya enforcer, including Steb! You grew quite attached to that man, his mutism, his reservation, but his never-ending will to do good and do his best. Deep down, you know him to be someone fundamentally kind and generous.

Piltover would be poorer after his death.

Your life would be poorer after his death.

You would miss your patrols together and the drinks you take with the team. You cannot hinder his chances of survival, not if you can do something about it!

Your reach Kirraman's door and knock. She open with suspicion in her eyes.

"Ma'am, I need to share something important..."

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

Steb stands in the room, testing his new tonfas’ weight and manageability. They are well-balanced and long, they should be appropriate for the mission.

"Do you know why we are here?" Loris asks, Vi appearing right behind him.

He and Maddie shrug. They are not here for a briefing, you just signaled you wanted to see them.

The door on the other side of the room flies open, and you appear.

"Welcome, everyone. I have new uniforms for you." You declare, pulling a rack with clothes on it, "Vi? There you go."

You distribute the uniforms to everyone as they walk away to pass them on. Steb puts down his new tonfas, awaiting his turn. He doesn't have any kind of expectations; he knows the uniforms are 'one size fits all' and the size is human. As the only Vastaya on the team, he doesn't expect that mentality to change any time soon.

But a new uniform is always nice at least.

"Steb?" You call for him. "I will need your opinion on it after."

He approaches and takes the uniform from you. Double stitch, stretchy but solid material...

Is that... A lower cut on the neck? That would be perfect for his gills.

He nods to you and enters the locker room to change.

The fabric is very breathable and flexible, he has no problem moving his limbs in any direction. The collar is indeed way lower, allowing his gills to function correctly. He had to double check, but the uniform has been doubled with a cold fabric that imitates plastic but feels very... Fresh on his scales, like it was meant not to irritate them.

He takes his lighter and the corner of his jacket and tries to burn it. The flame combusts, eats a centimeter of the fabric, and dies down immediately.

A non-flammable uniform, that’s great!

He counts all his pockets, 12 total, in and out. Plenty for all his medical tools. He also doesn't have a helmet but a beret, allowing his jaw frills to open and close easily without tension.

Overall, the best uniform he ever had.

He feels... Safe.

And protected.

A lot of defects he did not like on the other uniform are now gone. But he never complained about them before. He remained silent, judging that his discomfort was not worth being mentioned, but now... It was like someone entered his mind to see what was wrong with the former uniform and corrected it.

Was it you?

He leaves the locker room to meet the other, you are already noting down their opinions of the new uniform.

"Ah Steb, there you are! Your impressions?" You come to him, clicking your pen.

He explains that it is very comfortable while being practical. He appreciates the low cut of the jacket and shirt, the breathability of the fabric, allowing his rib gills to function, and the anti-flammable fabric is very welcome.

"What do you think if the cold fabric on the interior? Not too rough?" You ask.

He shakes his head, it’s perfect he signs. You nod and note down, humming as he signs his opinion.

He asks if Caytlin had all this ideas.

"She approved them but they came from me." You tell him, focused on your papers.

He takes it in, realizing that it is thanks to you.

"Okay!" You declare to the group, "We are done here, you can go to the Office, Mrs Kirraman will receive you."

As everyone departs, Steb grabs your hand to keep you behind, alone in the room. He squeezes your hand tenderly, in his eyes the memory of all those stolen kisses replaying, and all the tenderness you always bestowed on him.

"Hey..." You call gently, caressing his cheek,"It's okay. I am here for you all..."

He nods, pressing your hand to his lips that he kisses lovingly as a thank you.

As a confession...

"I am here for you Steb" you promise, "Always..."

He gently wraps his arm arounf your waist to press you against him, just for a moment

Just for a second...

A stolen second

Just between you and him.

“Even away from you, I will protect you, Steb. Always...”

@dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @brandy-and-bane @sp-the-fae-queen @aeeliy @sanktastuff @telephoneonawire @daichisito @sofiyathelast-blog @luv.della

#steb #steb my love #steb arcane #steb x reader #steb imagine #steb fics #arcane fic #arcane imagine #arcane x reader #fanfic #neuvilette tea party

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uceyliyahh · 7 months ago

Text

UNDER YOUR TOUCH

Summary: After her difficult breakup, Tiana wanted to start anew with her life. That's when she realized her life would be better when she met him.

This fanfic is 18+! NO MINORS ALLOWED

word count: 3107

smut warning; it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I’m improving at the moment.

Jey Uso x Tiana

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

But I’ll be writing along the way since this story is in my drafts on Wattpad right now so yuh. 💁🏽‍♀️

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️@pinkwithhearts @420days @jstarr86 @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign

@punksyeet @bebesobrielo @aikosilo @hunnidmilly @zillasvilla @fearlesschimera @xbriexx @lov3rla03 @bloodlinesbabe93

@charmed-dreamssss @yana3sworld @partypoison00 @magnificentbouquetmusic @mselenalovebug @skyesthebomb

@reignsboy19 @papi-priest @celesteheartsjey

22.

uceyjucey, rikishi, jonathanfatu and others liked your post.

tianasworld: baby bump update 39 weeks 🩷 uceyjucey: she's getting big in there mama tianasworld: @ uceyjucey ikrrrr but she need to hurry up. 😭 rikishi: she's getting big T ♥️ jonathanfatu: big as hell dawg 😭😭 tianasworld: jonathanfatu nigga don't make me slap yo' ass 😭😭 biancabelairwwe: ouuu girl i can wait to spoil her so bad

Read all comments.

TIANA I was at Trinity and Jon's house getting things planned for Jey and my wedding soon. We were discussing what colors should be suitable for the wedding and what colors the guys and women should wear.

While we were doing that, I felt Gianna's kicks getting stronger by the second. I always felt worried that I might have her spend this time, but Jey would always tell me that she wasn't ready to come out yet.

But I knew that was most definitely ready to come out of me since the doctor said that she was positioned "sunny side up." So my water could break any day now.

"Are you to push out that baby girl?" Trinity asked.

"Phew, yes, girl, I am so ready to push her out. She's been kicking my damn bladder every single night." I said while rubbing my baby bump.

I heard her chuckle a bit, "Oh, girl, you'll be fine. Just wait until you start having contractions." I sighed while rolling my eyes at her.

"Bitch, imma be a champ throughout all of that, but like I told you, imma get that epidural." Trinity nodded her head in agreement.

That is what I going sticking with getting the epidural so I won't be able to feel the pain I had a huge fear of tearing while giving birth it happened to my mom when she had me so I pray that it doesn't happen when I have Gianna.

I felt my phone buzz, picking it up, seeing that Jey had texted me and was probably checking up on me and making sure I was good since I was in my 39th week of pregnancy.

Hubby🤍 sent a message. IMESSAGE 💬

Hubby🤍: hey, mama, I was just checking up on you, making sure you were doing good.

I smiled at the message and began texting him back.

Mamas🩷: I'm doing fine, Bubba; Gianna's kicks are getting stronger every second when she kicks.

Hubby🤍: you think you might go into labor today?

Mamas🩷: yeah, I believe so I'm not so sure even though the doctor told me that she faced up so Gianna might come.

Hubby🤍: well if that happens I'll make sure you have all the things you need ight?

Mamas🩷: Okay love 🫶🏼

Hubby🤍: ight then Ma, I'll see you after work tell Trin and Em I said wassup for me love you. ♥️

Mamas🩷: I will do that. I love you too.

I turned my attention to Trinity, who was showing me ideas for the wedding venue. I wanted it to be outside on the beach, where everyone could see the ocean swaying in the wind.

For Jey and I's wedding, I drew inspiration from Jon and Trinity's ceremony because I wanted it to be remarkable.

"I really like this, Trin, an outside wedding seeing the waves," I said, scrolling through some inspirational pictures.

"Where do you want to have it?" she asked, looking at me with curiosity. I nodded my head, determined to communicate that this was important to me. I really wanted this day to be unique for Jey as he embraced his culture.

"Yes, Trin, this is what I want. I want it to be special not only for me but also for him," I replied.

We agreed to have our wedding in Maui, Hawaii, and I was excited to share the planning process with Jey. Now, we just needed to figure out the guest list and our honeymoon plans.

'It's going to be perfect'

✧.* I spent the rest of the day at Trinity and Jon's house because I didn't want to go home. We were all watching an hour-long movie when I heard the door open. Jey came in with some food he must have picked up on his way home from work.

He hugged Trinity and greeted his brother with a fist bump before his eyes landed on me. He walked over and placed the food on the table. Leaning forward, he pressed his soft lips against mine, giving me a few sweet kisses before pulling away with a smile. I couldn't help but notice his grills; he always manages to look good, even after a long day at work.

"Hey, mamas, how are you feeling?" Jey asked while he took off his hoodie, exposing his abs a bit.

"I'm feeling okay; I'm just exhausted," I said, yawning.

"Well, before you fall asleep, let's eat some food, Okay?" I nodded, sitting up on the couch and grabbing the food that he had brought for everyone.

We all began eating our food together while watching the movie. As we were eating our food, I felt Jey's hand on my thigh, rubbing it as I made eye contact with him.

"Have you all decided where we are going to have our wedding?" I knew he was going to ask this question, which made me smile.

I nodded my head while calling for Trinity. She got up from the couch and came towards us. " What's up, girl?" I told her to show Jey where we would be having our wedding.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket, unlocked it, and showed Jey that we were going to Maui, Hawaii, for our wedding. I saw his face light up while smiling.

"This is so perfect, baby. You all put some thought into it. I love the idea." Hearing his approval of the idea brings joy to my heart. Honestly, he hugged Trinity while giving me a peck on the lips.

"Well, honestly, it was Tiana's idea to have the wedding in Hawaii. She wanted it to be special not only for the two of you but for you, too," Trinity said.

Jey nodded his head while messing up my hair like I was some little kid, which made me push him. After we finished eating our food, we watched the rest of the movie together.

Me and Jey were cuddling together on the couch as he was rubbing circles around my baby bump feeling Gianna's kicks, one of her kicks made me groan is pain I couldn't wait to push her out.

As we were doing that, I noticed my phone light up, and I saw Jey grabbing it for me so that I wouldn't have to reach over. When I unlocked it, I saw that Malakai's mother had sent me a message.

'God, doesn't she know when to quit?'

Mrs Jackson sent a message. IMESSAGE 💬

Mrs Jackson: so I heard that you're pregnant and engaged now? Wow, my son has to suffer in that jail cell all because of your lies. If you had understood him, this wouldn't have happened.

Tiana: Ma'am, respectfully, your son was fucking crazy and mentally ill, but I guess yall didn't care about that, especially after the fact when he put his fucking hands on me and almost fucking killed me. But I guess you're more delusional than I thought.

Mrs Jackson: little girl don't get smart with me, that Samoan man will do you worst.

Jey was reading our messages and smirking at the fact that Malakai's mother had said something about him while he took my phone. I wanted to protest, but I didn't. Instead, I just let him say what he needed to say.

Tiana: This is her fiancé I would advise you to put some fucking respect on my name ma'am and maybe; MAYBE If yall raised your son right and not a women beater him and Tiana probably would be still together right? But no yall didn't second I could never put my hands on her.

Mrs Jackson: DON'T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT MY SON LIKE THAT.

Tiana: whomp, whomp, anyways, imma need you to stop harassing my fiancée when she's pregnant and doesn't need stress piled up on her that could harm our child, so take your problems somewhere else.

He handed me my phone back and kept his eyes glued to the TV as I read the text messages exchanged between him and Malakai's mom. I felt so lucky to have him in my life. The way he defended me was genuinely attractive.

I was fed up with his mother threatening me and spouting nonsense—like it was my fault that her son was mentally ill and that they should have done better as parents.

"You know... you're so sexy when you defend me, love?" I said, gently caressing his beard with my hands.

He smirked down at me, rubbing his thumb against my lips before speaking, "Yeah? I gotta defend you alofa; you know ion' play about you." His Samoan language sounded so sexy, rolling off his tongue like that.

He leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on my lips. Then, there were a few more kisses, and after that, it was a whole make-out session between us. Jey wrapped his hand around my throat, pulling me in more deeply into the kiss.

His tongue was swirling around my mouth, feeling his dick hardened behind me. We pulled away from each other as he got up from the couch, signaling that I should follow him upstairs to the guest bedroom.

Before I could do that I heard Jon, "ya'll are just nasty no wonder why you got knocked up." That's when Trinity popped him upside the head, telling him to mind his business as he pouted like a kid.

✧.* SMUT WARNING "Fuck Alofa, keep ridin' this dick for me." I was bouncing up and down on his dick, holding onto his shoulders for more support.

He kept gazing up at me while he tucked his bottom lip underneath his teeth, watching me devour his whole length inside of me.

He loved the way my pussy swallowed his entire length inside of me, grabbing me by the throat and firmly thrusting his hips up to match my movements.

"Joshhhh, shit," I moaned softly.

I rolled my eyes in the back of my head, throwing my head back in pleasure as I felt a sting on my left ass cheek. He pulled my face closer to his as he smashed his lips onto mine.

We were giving each other sloppy kisses while he was beating my guts in like no other, this was having me feel dizzy.

All you could hear was skins slapping against each other. Trin and Jon could probably hear what was happening right now.

We pulled away from each other as he wrapped his strong arms around my waist while being careful as he began pounding my shit, causing me to moan very loudly.

"Fuckkkkk, Joshhhuaaa." I moaned as he watched me fall apart.

"Give me this fucking pussy mamas, give it to daddy." He grunted while continuing to pound my wet cunt.

At this point, I couldn't even handle it anymore, wanting to push him away immediately, but my body wouldn't let me. He gave me wet kisses on the neck before sucking it like a vampire.

Leaving marks all over my neck, "la'u pusi lea alofa?" I couldn't even comprehend what he just asked me, earning a slap on my left ass cheek.

"Y-yes! This is yours, Tamā, all yours." His facial expression changed when I spoke his language; he didn't know that I'd been studying for a while now.

I kept bouncing on his dick, circling my hips around the tip, trying to spell out my name on it seeing his facial expressions turned up whenever I did it.

"Ioe e fai pea lena alofa leaga." He growled. I loved it when he spoke in his Samoan language, making him sound so good that it turned me on even more.

I started to feel that knot in my stomach, gazing down at him as he placed wet kisses on my chest, cupping both of my breast's in his hand and sucking on the nipples.

"Daddy..this dick feels so good nobody can do it like you do, Daddy." I moaned softly, running my fingers down his mullet.

"Mhm...yo' ass better know who run this shit, mama fuck I'm finna nut all in yo' shit." Jey groaned, giving my left ass cheek another slap.

"Keep bouncing on this dick; make me nut," I whined at the sensation that I was feeling, feeling all of my wetness coat his dick up well.

He let go of my throat and watched me throwing it down in circles as his hands were behind his head. I saw him rolling his eyes in the back of his head as I moan escaped his lips.

I bounced on it with determination feeling my orgasm coming, feeling his dick twitch inside of me, seeing him bending his knees some before gripping onto my waist and thrusting upwards at a speedy pace.

I gasped, hitting him in his chest and signaling him that I was going cum, "Cum on this fucking dick, mama, do it." Seeing his eyebrows furrowed a bit while encouraging me.

I felt his dick twitch again, this man was having me in a daze at this point making me feel miserable like he always do.

My orgasm took over me letting out a loud moan feeling myself releasing all over him, my creamy essence coating his dick up so well as he continued to pump in and out of me.

The substance was stringing along our skins, and we could hear nothing but sticky sounds as it separated into a gooey-like substance.

Jey gripped my hips tightly as he pushed his dick deeply inside of me, feeling his warm seeds, while he groaned in satisfaction, slowly continuing to thrust himself into me before pulling out.

SMUT OVER. I sat up, seeing his dick come out of me while He and I were panting heavily, gazing down at each other while smiling.

"Fuck, mama, you got some good ass pussy." Jey commented before gripping my ass cheeks.

"You know all of this is for you, baby," I replied, feeling my legs getting wobbly as I moved to the other side of the bed.

He sat up, leaning forward, and kissed me on the lips before standing up. My eyes watched him go inside the bathroom, hearing him turn on the water in the tub.

Coming back inside the room, he walked toward me, holding out his hand. "C'mon, my lady, let's go take a bath together." I smiled at him as I held his hand, going inside the bathroom with him.

✧.* JEY After Tiana and I took a bath together, we lay down in the bed, cuddling. She lay down on my chest, and my fingers trailed down her back, watching her sleep.

I couldn't believe I would be marrying this girl and that she was having our child, too. I adored her so much. I grabbed my phone, which was next to her, to make sure I didn't wake her up.

Scrolling through my social media before going to sleep, I saw that Kehlani hoe-ass texted me on Instagram since I've been blocking her new numbers or accounts that she had made to say some negative shit.

hisfavlani: can't we just try again Jey like c'mon uceyjucey: aye, imma need to leave me tf alone Lani hisfavlani: can't we just talk about it uceyjucey: hell naw so stop texting me or it'll be some problems hisfavlani: fuck you Jey.

I felt Tiana shifting a bit on my chest, and I saw her eyes flutter open as she got up from the bed and went straight to the bathroom. I didn't really think much of it, as it was a normal thing for her to do.

I heard the toilet flushed as she opened the door seeing her face expression it looked like she was in pain but didn't want to show it, she laid back down my chest trying to go back to sleep.

She sat up again, holding onto her belly, which made me concerned as I got up from the bed and kneeled at her level.

"Mamas? You okay? What's wrong? Talk to me." I said, feeling concerned.

"Josh, I think I'm having contractions right now, and they hurt so much. I believe Gianna is on her way, " she said as she stood up from the bed, leaning against it, rocking her hips back and forth while her breathing exercises.

"Hollon lemme go wake up Trin and Jon." I left the guest bedroom, went to Trinity and Jon's room, and knocked on their door.

The door swung open, and Trinity appeared standing there, looking at me before speaking, "What's up, brother?" I told her about the situation with Tiana, and she knew immediately.

She wakes Jon up and tells him to get dressed because Tiana might be going into labor today. While they do that, I go back to check on Tiana, who is still rocking her hips back and forth. I can hear her breathing.

I came behind her, pushing her back down to relieve some pain from the contractions that she was feeling, rocking back and forth with her.

"I'm right here, mama. Just keep breathing, baby," I reassured her as she nodded her head.

I placed soft kisses on her back, rubbing circles all over it, trying to soothe her. That's when Trinity came inside the room, seeing Tiana's condition. She grabbed Tiana's hospital bag, which contained everything she needed.

"C'mon, Jey. Let's go before this girl has this baby on the floor," Trinity said as I nodded my head.

I held Tiana's hand, helping her get dressed. Despite her contractions whooping her ass, she managed to get her clothing on before we headed out to the hospital.

She did have one more week until she had Gianna, but I guess Gianna had plans of her own. I texted everyone that Tiana was going to have the baby today, so they needed to be prepared when the baby came.

Jon was driving towards the hospital as I held onto Tiana's hand telling her that everything is going to be okay and that we are here for her, seeing her struggling to push through the contractions.

We timed her contractions, seeing how far along they were, and it was coming back every minute or so.

I hope that she can get through the hard part of this before anything else. I can't believe that this is happening today.

Under Your Touch.

A/n: welllll Tiana finna push that baby outtt and Kehlani ass finna crash tf out when she see the baby.

I will be publishing MARKED after under your touch is completed so stay tune for that I might update again today hopefully 🤞🏽😭

But I hope yall enjoy this chapter lmk in the comments below.

Stay Ucey.

#jey uso #black writers #black fanfic writer #black oc #jey x oc black #wwelove #black reader #jey uso fanfiction #wwe fanfiction #jey uso smut

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satanwritesfanfiction · 2 years ago

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Paladin Danse x f!reader || Under you || SMUT

Title: Under you

Rating: explicit, smut

Category: f/m

Fandom: Fallout 4

Relationship: reader x Danse (can be read as ss x Danse)

Characters: Danse, reader

Tags/ triggers: smut, pwp, power dynamics in a sense that he outranks her in bos and that's used as a flimsy thread for pwp??, desk time, p in v, doggy, threat of being caught, injury that's basically forgotten halfway through, argument, ooc

Wordcount: 2800

a/n: the first fanfic for fallout and first time writing in a while so its has its issues but we ignore that for the serotonins my boiiii Danse gives me

***

Opening the door to Danse's quaters onboard the Prydwen, you were greeted with his back towards you, broad shoulders covered by his BOS uniform. It wasn't every day you were faced with the realities of him outside of his armour.

However, you didn't look forward to this conversation given how he had left you at Knight-Captain Cade To get stitched up. His disappointment wasn't without merit, you had disregarded that order but with good reason, the civilians were the priority to you, not your own sensibilities of survival or self preservation.

You cleared your throat as you moved your hands to hook at your back. "Danse."You closed your eyes briefly and took a breath. "..Paladin Danse." You stated, keeping the clench of your teeth out of your voice as best you could ad you took the formal route.

He turned to regard you, eyes raking over you in a way that made you feel small before he took a breath.

"Did Knight-Captain Cade clear you?" He inquired, voice void of emotion as the remnants of the battle still courses through him, the images of your body bruised and bloody, the results still shining on the arch of your brow prominently. It's been a few hours and he's kept busy but it lingers on him, haunts him in a way he hadn't anticipated.

"Yes." You stated. "Well after few days rest, its honestly not even that bad Danse." You pulled against your shirt to reveal the stitched wound on your stomach, slight redness to the skin but nothing that would cause any worry. "Few days and I'll be back to kicking ass like I never even left."

Danse stood frozen for a moment, hands tightening ever so slightly at the clipboard he was holding at the sight of the exposed skin, knowing he shouldn't feel this way and much less when it was such an innocent gesture on your part when all you wanted to do was set his mind at ease. But the problem was that he had imagined it, had imagined his hands curled around that very skin, indenstations on your hips, on the smooth skin.

He knew his duties and what should take precedence but thoughts sometimes got a bit jumbled around you, feeling something growing in his chest, movement within in a way he couldn't decipher, anger at your actions and fear at your failures which he could argue was because of his role as your sponsor but he knew there was more to it and he should probably create some distance... but at the same time he had been elated when you asked him to accompany you on your outtings.

"That's.. uh that's good. "he stated, averting his eyes for a moment to think as he cleared his throat. "We still need to discuss your performance on the battlefield today, (Y/n).“ he took on the professional demeanor as he placed the clipboard on a nearby surface.

"I understand." You stated as you moved a few paces in his direction.

"You failed to follow a direct order." He stated. "You know what I told you when I chose to sponsor you. You are my responsibility and I can't have you-" he sighed and ran his hand over his face as he boiled at the thought. "You have a duty to this team."

It was definitely not an opportune moment as you watched him chastise you to feel the warmth in your body, the firmness in his stance, the power as he spoke. The brief flashes of when he carried your body to safety. Your attraction to the man was your own issue to deal with but it always creeps up when you need it the least.

You had imagined it was the lack of action that had you so wanton for the man but after a few nights with your hand between your legs with his name on your tongue and even a few drunken nights in goodneighbour, you had come to the conclusion that there had to be a little more to it than that but even so, the knowledge didn't stop the way you felt weak with his attention solely on you, it didn't stop your gaze from lingering or the butterflies in your stomach as his voice carried within the room.

You swallowed. "There were civilians, Danse. I could not let them be another casualty of war."

"You shouldn't have disobeyed." He stated firmly, brows furrowed as his voice raised slightly. "We would've-"

"They would've died." You interrupted. "You can't expect me to watch that happen when we could-"

He was always softer when it came to you, he knew that, he would wager that you knew it as well. He dismissed and even ignored many actions that might've seemed harsh in anothers eyes but nothing quite like the action he would commit when his lips met yours, a quick action that his mind couldn't quite compute but at the same time he felt vindicated. An entirely unprofessional offense against much of what he told himself and how he arrived to behave but you felt so real with his hands pressed to the side of your face, so soft pressed to his lips, so warm and pliable when you didn't pull away.

"You need to learn your place." He whispered against your lips as he pulled away, hands falling to your hips and pressing into the flesh. So many thoughts circling that were both impure and against the ideals of the brotherhood when it came to subordinates and colleagues.

You bit into your lip as you looked up at him, not quite the place you saw the conversation moving but it was definitely not unwelcome, just surpising and a little distracting with the way his fingers pressed into you, causing your brain to play catch up and wonder if this was real or not and whether you could push forth in the direction you desperately wanted to go.

"Are you gonna show me where that is?“ you whispered, breathe feeling like it was sucked from your body as you anticipated his reaction. Damn the pulsing between your legs that could have you on your knees in front of this man with a mere motion, a mere sliver that he wouldn't reject it.

He was quick to move you after the question, pressing you against the desk and hovering above you as a few small objects from his desk tumbled to the floor.

"Do you want me to?“ he asked, searching your expression for any sign of discomfort, wondering if he read the situation wrong, part of him wanting you to be the one to stop this so he didn't go against any of the bos ideals but hoping to whatever merciless god was out there that you wouldn't.

"Yeah.."you said softly, pushing through some forced confidence as you cleared your throat, meeting his eyes with a new form of what you hoped was seen as assurance. "Yes."

He pushed a strand of hair behind your ear as his eyes stayed trained on you, an act that felt soft and intimate in the way silence fell until his hand slipped into your hair, grip tightening and crashing his lips to yours once more. You gave as fervently as you got, hands pressed to his chest.

His own hand lingered at your chest, fingers gripping the hem of your shirt and easily pulling it over your head and then came the bra, frustration evident as his need for you grew. An array of pushing and prodding as the frustration lingered in veins at the limitation the pieces of cloth supplied.

Finally he manages to push the small piece of clothing from your body to some place on the floor, watching you sit on his desk like this with an expression that anyone would call wanton. His hand cupped your breast in his hand, watching as you worried your lip between your teeth at the action. Softness even in sound when he ran his thumb over the bud.

He had been gentle in the journey to get you somewhat undressed but he hadn't forgotten the comment that lead him here, the boil within his blood at the thought of your actions and the unobstructed sight of the wound now before him. The image of you had not been enough to still the turmoil within him. The kindness he valued in you was the thing that would disregard order and yourself which brought him to this bridge but he could easily show you order, power, even show you your place as he had said. He would not be entirely wrong to say you place was under him but perhaps not in the sense that he would like and would enforce tonight.

He quickly undid the button of your pants, hands wrapping around your hips at a lingering thought, the need growing within him, a grip that lingered but didn't alarm you as he pulled you towards him but then a sudden shift as the direction changed, as he flipped you around, using his body to press you to the desk, hand pressing against against your upper back until you took the position he wanted. The new position added an ache to the wound on your torso, slight hiss that you doubt he even heard.

The desk was cool against your breast, anticipation as you kept yourself pressed to the surface, eyes looking behind at the man and only feeling the anticipation and want grow as his eyes travelled across your body.

"Such disobedience." He murmured as his hands slid down your back, fingers hooking in the waist and of the pants and pulling it over the curve of your ass along with your underwear. "Perhaps I had been too lenient with you." He stated, a tone that didn't quite match the content as his hands spread over your ass and squeezed. He lowered himself over your body, chest ghosting over your back as his lips pressed close to your ear and his own bulge pressing against your back side so temptingly. "I should correct that misstep, shouldn't I. Show you what insubordination gets you." He punctuated the word with the grind of his hips to yours.

You bit your lip as you spread your legs as much as you could given the pants around your thighs limiting your movement. Needing him to touch you in any way he wished, to use your body just as long as he touched you without all the layers between you.

The press of him eased up when he fiddled with his uniform, fighting to pry it from his body as quickly as possible at the sight of your pliable form. He hadn't bothered further than getting it passed his hips. For a moment he was dumbstruck, so many things he wanted but the uncertainty of whether he would get such a perfect opportunity to enact them made him slow to act, pressing two fingers to your entrance and spreading your slick and shallowly pressing into you to test the waters.

A whimper sounded past your lips as you closed your eyes at the feeling. It had been so long since someone else had touched you and though you had the nights where you had came around your fingers at the thought of him, it was miles apart from this, from his warm fingers spreading your cunt.

"That's a good girl."He commented, watching as his fingers disappear into your needy cunt, glistening in the light when he retracted, soft whimpers spilling from your lips and body rocking back against him softly. You were so compliant like this, such a pretty image that he would definitely be revisiting at a later time.

He removed his fingers from you, earning an annoyed sound and a glance back, he couldn't hide his glee at the state he could leave you in but at the same time, he needed to be inside you, needed you to clench around his cock and take him like you were meant to.

His hand wrapped around your hip, the other going to his cock and lining up. He pushed in slowly, groaning at the wetness until he settled, hips pressed to yours. The situation led you to believe he would give the time for you to adjust, he had always been accommodating and he had taken his time with pushing into you but he had other plans, other wants to allowed him to bypass that courtesy.

His hand slipped into your hair and tightened, pressing you to the desk if you just so happen to get any other ideas. His hips snapped, shallowly at first as he got used to the tightness. You cried out at the feeling, the pain that got dwarfed by the pleasure and he quickly pressed a hand over your mouth to silence your cries as he pressed closer to your ear.

"Wouldn't want anyone to come see what's wrong, would we?" He granted against your back, teeth scratching against your shoulder blade as he momentarily slowed his movements. "This is quite the position for a knight to be in."

Your hand wrapped around his wrist as his hips picked up the pace, closing your eyes as you took what he gave, imagining if someone did walk in, perhaps a scribe or Cade or even Maxson, seeing Danse give it to you, perhaps they could corroborate that this was real because it felt like you were floating, like he was splitting your skull in half and all you could do was think about how fucking full of him you felt. Punishment be damned, you needed them to know Danse was fucking you, that he chose you even if just a momentary lapse.

Suddenly he pulled out, flipping you over like you weighed nothing, you bit into your lip at the full sight of him, bare chest and cock at attention. He, on the other hand, had no notions of taking in the moment, taking hold of your legs and pressing them to your chest so he could get easy access to that tight cunt of yours, immediately pressing home at the first opportunity.

You moaned at the feeling, pressing your palm to your lips given his previous comments even with your own voyeuristic fantasies and the need to have him do it, to control every aspect of the situation, to set the perimeter and feel his hand press to the sides of your face as you just laid there and took it.

He could feel his end approaching, hand pressing and prodding at your skin at the thought of losing access, finally lingering at your clit at the thought of you coming on his cock.

"Hold this." He commanded, taking your free hand and wrapping it around your legs. You did as you were told, glossy eyes watching the man before you and then keening when he touched you, thumb rubbing against your clit in fast, tight circles and you knew you were done for.

"Danse.." you cried, hand slipping from your lips as you moaned into the air, neither of you seeming to care at the moment as his hips snapped into you with renewed vigor at the sound of his name falling from your lips. "Please-I.."

"I know." He stated, interuppting your train of thought. "Be a good girl and come for me."

Again, you did as he asked, feeling the warmth spread throughout your limbs as your walls clenched around him. The cry that left your lips would most likely be heard past his door followed by the mantra of his name as you fought through the intense emotion.

He had to fight to keep moving past the the clench of you, giving a few shallow thrusts before he came inside of you, ropes of his come hitting your walls as he stilled deep inside of you with a grunt of your name.

A few moments passed of heavy breathing before he pulled out, watching as his come slipped out of you which he promptly pushed back inside of you with two fingers which elicited a whimper from you.

Coming back to his sensibilities, he retracted from you, softly removing your hand from your legs and setting them to the floor and pulling you to a seating position. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and pulled your pants back over your hips and then picked you up bridal style, wordlessly. He hoped you were alright, that he hadn't made a mistake by giving into his most base desires for you. He cared for you and he hoped for more than the structure provided under this militarristic life but that was a whole other can of worms.

He placed you in his bed, getting in behind you and wrapping an arm around your middle. He could steal this moment, could he not. If you were to resent him for his actions, at least he could pretend in this moment as you fall asleep pressed to his chest.

#fallout 4 #paladin danse #paladin danse smut #pwp #satanwritesfanfiction #smut #Paladin danse x reader #paladin danse x sole survivor #danse

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lamardeuse · 1 year ago

Text

This is not a Wendy's, and my story is not your burger.

A note up front: the following does not refer to the serious issues of racism, anti-Blackness and white supremacy in fandom spaces, which deserves a much more nuanced discussion than a ridiculous food metaphor could ever hope to express. This is a general discussion of fandom standards around tagging and warnings.

Over the three – now nearly four – decades that I've been in fandom, I've seen a lot. I've seen a lot of foolishness, and a metric fuckton of toxicity, and even some good faith, honest debates about how we should conduct ourselves as we move through fannish spaces and interact with one another. So from the start, let me explain that this is not the old lady crabbing at the kids. None of this is particularly new, and fandom culture ebbs and flows. Heigh-ho, nonny nonny, the wheels roll on.

That said, we need to have a talk. Because some people may not be as experienced as the rest of us, and need to understand some fundamental truths about fandom that they may not have picked up, because no one reads Fanlore from top to bottom for fun. That's not inherently a concern. We all learn from one another – I've learned so much from younger people in fandom, particularly here on tumblr – but there are occasions when younger fans could also benefit from some knowledge flowing the other way.

First, fandom is vast. It was huge when I started in the Dark Ages, and it's increased exponentially in the last fifteen to twenty years, since “geek culture” has gone mainstream. That widening of the circle – and more importantly, the naked commercialization of it by media giants who smell our money like vampires in a blood bank – is both a blessing and a curse, because on the one hand, more people who love a thing means more love for everyone! On the other hand, though, I think it's unmoored us in some senses from the fundamental truth that fandom is unhinged, joyful obsession, the fulfilment of a need for communication, creative expression and connection, and most importantly – community.

Yes, fandom is – or should be, at its best – a community first and foremost. And just like any community, it's filled with individuals who form groups, subgroups and cliques. And none of those groups have ever, in the over half a century since the first Star Trek fan made Kirk and Spock fuck, agreed upon one single, overarching view of what 'community' means. Which means the minute you as a fan come striding up to another fan's little electronic nest on the AO3 or Youtube or tumblr demanding that standard X be applied to their fannish creation in the name of 'fandom courtesy' or 'fandom etiquette'? All the old ladies (gn) in fandom realize that you are desperately, painfully new*.

Does that mean that we shouldn't strive to be a community? Of course not. But I would argue that the single and only “rule” of that community is that we make an effort to treat each other, first and foremost, with kindness and grace, and the understanding that the person you are interacting with is not you. They're not even one of the fifty-two people you interact with on Discord who all agree to the same “rules of fandom” (newsflash: they probably don't). And if you come into their fannish space as a stranger demanding they cater to you, you are probably going to be in for a shock.

Commercialization complicates this issue, because I think one element that's new is that some of us have lost sight of the fact – or never learned – that fans do not place their creations in front of you like a server handing you a bag at a fast food drive thru window. They are not producing a commodity to be consumed for which you paid hard earned money that entitles you to certain rights, such as the right to complain if you ordered a burger with mayo and received mustard instead. You would certainly have a right to demand compensation if you're allergic to mustard and had to go to the hospital as a result.

Fandom is more like a potluck, a gigantic potluck with literally millions of dishes. At some tables, there are agreed upon warnings for certain allergens, but others are not required to be mentioned and if you have an allergy, you will need to ask directly. At some tables, you are told that there may be allergens in any of the dishes and you proceed to eat them at your own risk. That risk and your assessment of it is, for better or worse, entirely your responsibility to manage. And your preferences – level of spice, aversion to certain textures and flavours – those are not allergies and there is no prior agreed upon standard to break down every possible element of a dish so that you will always be able to avoid any contact with the foods you personally don't like. There never has been, and there never will be.

The only thing you can be certain of is that on every single table, there are dishes that people have created for you for free with love, effort, experience and care. If you walk up to that table and take a bite and then politely turn down any more, that's fine. If you take a bite, spit it out and loudly tell that person that is not what you were expecting, you wouldn't have tried it if you'd known what it tasted like, and you are appalled that this person did not inform you of every single ingredient before you tried it? You, my friend, are not going to be welcome at the potluck.

Fandom is not a Wendy's. The stories, songs, costumes, artwork, edits that we put out into the world are not mass produced burgers made in a giant factory and shipped to restaurants where you can rest assured that the burger you eat in London will taste the same as the one in Dubuque. And no, the time you invested in reading a fic, watching a vid or contemplating a piece of artwork posted freely on the internet is not something you have the right to demand a refund on either, because again, fandom is not a fast food restaurant, and our interactions with one another in fannish spaces are not transactions. Every creation you choose to put in front of your eyeballs took that person time and energy, and they are putting that out in the world to make a connection with other human beings.

The next time you leave a comment, choose connection. It's easier than you think.

(*I'm going on good faith here and presuming most people who do this are relatively new to fandom. I'm not counting the people who think it's fine and dandy to hurl abuse at strangers for not obeying their standards – those people should be blocked and excluded on sight. I sincerely hope that they get help for the demons that are chasing them and telling them this is an acceptable way to live.)

#fandom #meta

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kykyonthemoon · 1 year ago

Text

Limerence (noun) — a mental state of profound romantic infatuation, deep obsession, and fantastical longing.

⋆˚✿˖° This chapter is a part of a mini-series of dark fairy tales and romance sets in another universe. It consists of three chapters, each with a Male Lead and is separated from one another.

⋆˚✿˖° Character x Reader/MC, from another (OC's) point of view. Reader/MC's pronounce is "she/her/hers".

⋆˚✿˖° Warnings & tags: 16+, MDNI, angst, hurt, thriller, emotional and mind control, manipulation, love spell, obsession, unrequited love, major character death, dark fantasy, dark fairy tale, m.urder, s.uicide attempt.

⋆˚✿˖° Leonard is my OC.

⋆˚✿˖° Read more chapters:

✦ Xavier's ✦ Zayne's

⋆˚✿˖° Masterlist

⋆˚✿˖° My friend Cery made an art for this fic here: x

Chapter: The Muse — in which he brings the world his most significant work of art.

⋆˚✿˖° Word count: 3k1

These days, the artist community was vibrant, with some even competing for acceptance to the exhibition at Mo Art Studio.

So did Leonard. He had to rush around and ask for help everywhere in order to be given a chance. Money was not an issue, but the host of this exhibition was certainly not an ordinary person. He wasn't offering tickets to the highest bidder, but rather to those who possessed an artistic vision and passed his evaluation.

“The ticket will be sent to you within the next three days. Please keep in touch.” The other end of the line cut the discussion off, but Leonard's mind remained lightheaded, unable to believe the gift he had just received.

“Wait…” He spoke before the other person hung up. “Excuse me… May I do an interview with that artist in the exhibition?”

There was no response. Leonard believed they were reviewing his proposal. He held his breath and wait for a while, then the manager named Thomas spoke:

“We do not accept interviews. But a few individual queries could suffice. Of course, if you are able to leave a good impression.”

"I got it. Thank you."

Putting the phone aside, Leonard leaned back in his office chair. How to impress Linkon's most talented painter, or should he say - the world's best artist? Despite his young age, there was no one in this city who had never heard of his work.

The artist's name was Rafayel. He became well-known for his landscape paintings, which brought admirers to a dreamlike state when they stood in front of them. He seldom appeared in public, despite having organized hundreds of major and minor exhibitions. Who he truly was remained a question, and the most mysterious part was probably his disappearance a year ago.

For a whole year there were no new paintings or art activities. No one saw him in Linkon during that time. His manager and studio kept it silent, as if everything had evaporated overnight. Then, last weekend, he unexpectedly reappeared and made an important announcement, which was an exhibition called The Muse.

In contrast to his previous events, guests had no idea what they were about to witness. According to the majority of internet comments, Rafayel returned with a work of a lifetime, a painting that exceeded anything he had ever created. That was the final result of a year-long hunt for inspiration. Of course, there were those who believed he was steadily degrading since he hadn't been able to draw anything decent in a long time and had simply planned this event to earn some money.

For Leonard, either truth was fair. He must uncover all of the details and secrets surrounding Rafayel's reappearance. Since that was what he did for a living.

Leonard was a journalist who specialized in arts. Despite his greatest efforts over several years, he still had little hope of succeeding. He had been without a single decent piece for a long time. Then the opportunity to visit the Mo Art studio presented itself before his eyes. He was not going to miss the chance to see a place that had never been accessible to the public before.

The day of the exhibition approached. Leonard had purposefully showed up early, but as he reached the gate, he noticed that about fifty formally dressed guests were already present. They were enjoying wine and food as they walked in groups into the main hall, where the primary event was held. Leonard also entered with nervousness. All of the windows and doors were wide open, allowing the sea air to convey a salty fragrance into the hallway. Rafayel's famous works are framed, and hung or placed in the center of a floral garden that the host tenderly arranged himself, giving guests the impression that they had just lost themselves in the Garden of Eden.

However, that was not the primary attention of the event. Something massive and cylindrical appeared in the center of the hall. It spanned from the ground to an exceedingly high glass ceiling. It had a diameter of up to ten meters, and was covered in a crimson velvet fabric, protecting it from inquisitive eyes of guests. Even the personnel had not an idea of what was inside.

"Rafayel did all of this himself." Thomas, the manager, spoke up. "I can't answer your questions because I'm not sure what's there. But whatever it is, it will undoubtedly live up to the name of his Muse."

The flock of intrigued guests around Thomas nodded, then split out to stroll around and admire the pillar, as if its very presence was already an art. To them, the less they comprehended something, the more valuable it became.

Leonard found a seat close to the window but not too far from the center of the hall. He was afraid of missing the opportunity to witness Rafayel's Muse. Late in the afternoon, the sun glided across the horizon, casting golden rays into the place. The guests began to get tipsy, wondering if Rafayel would show up or if this was all a hoax, when, down the stairs, the host of the party appeared.

He donned a lavish dark blue suit with sculpted sleeves and shoulders that looked to be encrusted with spectrum fish scales. His presence was as magnificent as his name, causing the entire hall to fall silent. Guests held their breath as they watched the young artist stroll down the steps, the heels of his shoes reverberating on the marble floor as if a piece of music had just been executed.

“Welcome to the exhibition.” Rafayel spoke in a solemn voice. "It appears that all of the guests here are wondering; what exactly has he been doing during the past year? Why didn't he present any of his new work? What's the point of this exhibition?"

Rafayel halted for a moment, his dark eyes behind a few purple curls scrutinizing each guest individually, as if reading them all. The corner of his mouth twisted up in delight as he effectively piqued everyone's interest. He resumed his speech:

“It all began with a muse. My muse. That's a story perhaps a lucky visitor would unveil in this exhibition. But for now…” Rafayel lifted a hand. “Let me introduce you to my one and only, Muse.”

The scorched cloth transformed into crimson tiny particles that flew all about, blending into the fiery sunset outside. The crimson sun halted in the center of the room's largest window, and emerged as an illusion was Rafayel's Muse.

Leonard blinked. In front of him stood a tank of water with a thick glass cylinder. The inside was ornamented with flowers, coral, and white pillars of broken plaster encircling an oval of the glass tank, offering him the sense that he was staring at a lost city under the depths of the ocean. There were schools of brilliant small fish swimming around, weaving between the crevices of the broken world. In the midst of the tableau, there was a woman floating in the water in an upright stance, a few meters above the tank's bottom, conveying an illusion that she was flying. Her head was adorned with pearl jewelry, eyes were closed, as if she was in deep slumber. Her hands opened, allowing the orange-red fish to whirl around her wrists. Then they invited each other to swim along her tiny unclothed arms, to her exquisite neck covered in shimmering pearls, and down to the thin white garment that was floating in the water like her own body. Her bare feet lingered above the seaweed, as if to tease them with the fact that they were unable to grasp her no matter how hard they tried.

A beauty out of this world. That was what Leonard's mind could think of. When he came here, he was full of determination to discover Rafayel's secret, but now, when he witnessed its beauty with his own eyes, he was speechless. His brain felt empty, as if that beauty had filled it and he no longer needed anything else. A melodic rhythm could be heard somewhere, distant seemingly from another universe, but apparently emanating from the tank itself.

All guests were drawn to the center. Rafayel vanished among the crowd that was cheering him. Nobody suspected that Rafayel's Muse was not a painting but an entirely distinct thing. Whatever it was, she was the size of an adult in her mid-twenties. A statue or a doll that resembled a real person?

Leonard brushed past a few astonished others to get closer to the tank. Rafayel's exhibit could easily shock the entire art field. Leonard had already begun pondering concepts for his next piece. Unlike the other guests, who were merely engaged in the beauty in front of them, he was more enthralled by the narrative behind The Muse.

Who was she? Where did her story begin? Leonard sought around for Rafayel's silhouette but could not find him. However, near the stairs, he encountered Thomas with a look of panic and utter shock on his face.

“It can't be… No… It can't be her…” Those were the words Leonard could hear before Thomas bolted out of the hall.

There were just a few people invited to the show, and after approximately an hour, they had presumably spent all of their admiration and hypothesis on the tank. They met again in groups to tour Rafayel's studio. Who knows when they would be able to return here again, in ten, twenty, or even fifty years?

Leonard took advantage of the reality that people had left the area to approach closer and examine more, now that he was the only one standing nearby. The Muse was still inside, a smile on her lips, but why did Leonard feel a suffering coming from her? He strolled around the tank to better view her. It was hard to discern whether this was in fact a sculpture by Rafayel or a real person. That was also what the guests spoke about all day.

The Muse was so genuine. To the point that Leonard expected her to open her eyes and climb out of the tank. But she remained still, absorbed in her own undersea world. He stayed frozen, unable to move his gaze away from the tank, for Rafayel had previously stated that within this, his secrets hidden.

Yet Leonard, with his mundane eyes, might never discover it. The only thing he found was possibly a tiny coating of pinkish red water coming from The Muse's breast. That ruby hue seeped through the attire that enveloped her, and it looked nothing like the color that Rafayel often used in his paintings. There was something rather odd about it. It resembled blood, from The Muse herself.

The exhibition came to an end. Guests departed on their own after being notified. Rafayel returned to the lobby. Leonard took the opportunity to ask in an instance:

“Mr. Rafayel. May I ask you a few questions regarding the exhibition?

Rafayel gazed at him. To increase his reputation, he identified himself as a journalist who specialized in writing about art.

"Ah. "I remember you." Rafayel responded. "Among the guests, you were the only one who gave an impressive answer to my question."

Leonard tried to recall the survey he was required to complete before Thomas reached him to inform he had an invitation. These questions were all about Rafayel's career, and the answers were readily accessible online. There was just one question, the last one, that sparked a lot of consideration in Leonard, while having nothing to do with Rafayel's works at all.

"If you were given a magical spell that made the person you love love you forever, would you use it?" Rafayel reiterated his query. "You're the only one who chose not to."

Leonard nodded. It was truly what he had said.

"May I know, why?" Rafayel glanced at him with curiosity. Leonard was taken aback, as he had come here expecting to be an interviewer. Who would have guessed it was the other way around?

"A spell is just an illusion." Leonard responded honestly. "That is not love." "Love must come from a true heart."

"A true heart…" Rafayel repeated each word. His eyes were as sorrowful and deep as the tranquil water, yet it was terrifying since he had no idea when the storm would arrive. "Perhaps, she would choose the same answer as you."

"Pardon?…" Leonard interrupted Rafayel's thoughts. "Who are you talking about?"

Rafayel smiled but remained silent. Fearing that the young artist might leave without answering, Leonard impatiently said:

“Aren't you talking about your Muse? Can you tell me who she is?”

Rafayel gazed at the girl in the aquarium. He smiled. Just a small movement of the lips conveyed devotion, anguish, and regret.

"She is my true heart." Rafayel's voice resembled a song. But he said nothing more, and Leonard was asked to leave right away.

The Muse's story was forever a mystery. The mystery that Leonard had yet to come very close.

That story began a year ago. Or perhaps, it had originated a long, long time ago.

When a Lemurian gives their heart to someone, it will die if not reciprocated.

Rafayel had given his to a human girl.

He met her when she was a child. She was his savior when he was expecting such a painful death on land, and she helped him return to the sea.

She could not remember who he was, nor did she know that all those years, he had been watching her from afar. Amid the waves, behind the rocks, he watched her grow up.

He met her again as a painter many years later. She happily accepted his company. But it was not all he wanted. He longed for her. He craved her touch to make her become his, in the way he had determined his heart belonged to her.

But, her heart belonged to someone else.

A year ago, she told him that she was getting married.

Rafayel could not recall how frightening his emotions were. No matter how powerful the storms were at sea, they could never match his rage at the time. And, with a dreadful calamity brewing in his head, he did what he did to her.

He bound her with an ancient Lemurian enchantment. He made her fall desperately in love with him. She did everything for him, even abandoning her engagement and following him to a far away place. A secluded island only for them. Glorious summer nights lingered forever on the beach, when she and he were entangled, merging in the waves of never-ending love. He had her how he wished.

However, like an illusion, that spell did not persist forever. It drove her to insanity. She wandered alone on the shore, tears streaming and her mouth constantly crying out the name of the person she truthfully loved with each sob. She begged of him.

“Rafayel… Please… Let me go… Please… set me free… Set me free!”

Her screams were drowned in the ocean waves. Little did she realize that seeing her in this way made his heart bleed as well.

"Please…" She sobbed. Rafayel's dagger was in her grasp, and she pressed it to her throat. "If you won't let me leave... I must free myself..."

"Hush now, my dearest…" Rafayel quietly stretched out to her. This was not her first time in this state. He approached her, placed a hand on her forehead, and brushed away her wind-blown hair. Her fingers on the dagger tightened, urging him to back away. However, Rafayel seized the blade that was cutting into her neck, forcing his hand to bleed.

"You don't want to cut yourself, dear."

She trembled and stared at Rafayel. He hummed a very familiar melody, which made her thoughts muddled once more. The dagger slipped from her hand as she collapsed to her knees on the damp beach. Screaming.

“Be still, dearest love.” Rafayel gently lowered down. His knees were next to hers, as if he, too, was begging her to stay. “I can ease all our suffering… If you listen to me now…”

She covered her ears and shook her head with ferocity as if she never wanted to hear another word from him. Rafayel smiled in bitter. She had been like this lately, forgetting who she was and how profoundly she was in love with him. But that was alright. He would help her rekindle her love. She would obey at once as soon as he began singing.

He sang their song. He sang it the first time they met, and he still sang it day by day with her by his side.

She wept tremendously. She clutched her head and pleaded with him to stop. But Rafayel could never. Just like he could not stop the waves from crashing against the shore, who could ever stop his love for her?

After a while, she became quiet. No more yelling and pleading. She gave him an empty stare and a smile.

"Rafayel." She called his name. Her hand found his body, as though she had desired to be close to him since forever. Rafayel embraced her. He stroked and kissed the top of her head. His tears sank, condensing into pearls and nestling on her hair.

“I'm sorry… I'm sorry for turning you into someone like this…” Rafayel whispered in her ear. “But I've found a way to fix everything. You shall not suffer any longer... And neither shall I..."

Rafayel held her with one hand as the other sought the dagger's hilt in the moist sand.

“Will you do this for me?”

He gazed into the eyes of hers which were dreamy under the spell of love. She nodded.

"I vow to do everything for my dearest beloved."

"Very good." Rafayel smiled as he kissed her lips. "You will always be my Muse… Mine, forever..."

The dagger swung across the fiery sunset. The water chanted its melody in an ancient ritual. Then everything fell silent.

Rafayel watched her passionately as she slept within the water tank he had specifically built for her. That was her home, now and forever.

His hand stroked across the beautiful design. Her body was adorned with jewelry crafted from his teardrops. She was a masterpiece of his lifetime, which extended to no end. His Muse. His lips found hers on the other side of the glass, and he pressed a kiss.

From now on, she would weep no more. She would feel no pain.

A crimson light emanated from inside the pocket near Rafayel's chest. He pulled out a blazing red protocore.

This entire world will soon know that, her true heart shall forever belong to him and him alone.

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cheerscoops · 5 months ago

Text

Wherever You Point To I’ll Find ~ Steve Harrington x Chrissy Cunningham

Nobody expected a budding romance between Steve and Chrissy when they were invited on this graduation road trip. But, as the two spend more and more time together away from the pressures their families, they just might find that they’re the perfect match.

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Tags: modern au, road trip, mutual pining, fluff, angst, discussion of mental health and body issues, eventual smut, adult themes and swearing throughout

Word Count: 14.3k

A/N: It's been a minute since I last shared a chapter, but I think I'm finally back in the swing of things and ready to share this chapter that I've been working on for months.

***

When Chrissy woke up the next morning, Steve was still fast asleep. He was laying flat on his back, and she had draped herself around him with her head resting on his shoulder and her arm slung across his chest. She almost couldn’t believe that this was real. That she liked him and he liked her back. That she got to fall asleep in his arms and wake up still snuggled up to him. It felt like a dream.

She kissed his jaw before settling back in and hugging him a little bit tighter. As she was debating about how much longer she should let him sleep before waking him up to get ready for breakfast, he stirred beside her.

“G’morning,” he mumbled before kissing the top of her head. “You been up long?”

She moved to prop herself up on his chest so she could look at him and shook her head.

“Only a couple minutes,” she told him.

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked, his hand moving to rub up and down the small of her back. “Any bad dreams?”

“No bad dreams that I can remember. Why do you ask?”

“I got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and when I came back, you were whimpering in your sleep. The second I was back in bed, you were reaching out for me, and you clung to me pretty tightly after you found me.”

“Oh.”

And just like that she’d managed to ruin everything. She had no memory of that happening, but it did sound like something she would do. She was always invading people’s space and putting herself where she wasn’t wanted. How many times had Jason told her that her constantly hanging off of him was annoying if he wasn’t allowed to touch her? How many times had he pushed her away because she wanted to feel just the tiniest bit of affection without him trying to force her into something she wasn’t ready for? She’d lost track after the fourth or fifth time it happened, and now the cycle was going to start again with Steve. This was just his gentle way of telling her that she made him uncomfortable and he needed his space because he didn’t want to hurt her feelings by outright telling her to move over.

Chrissy moved off of him without another thought and tried to put at least a few inches between them as she sat up in bed.

“I’m sorry,” she told him. “I can ask Nancy to always make sure our room has two beds so you can have your space. Or, I’ll just pick up an air mattress while we’re out today because that's probably easier for everyone.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“I know I can be clingy.” She avoided looking at him as she spoke, choosing to stare at where she was now picking at the bedspread instead. “Most people find it annoying and don’t like it when I get too close. I’m pretty good at keeping my distance and asking for permission before cuddling up to someone, but I can’t help it when I’m asleep. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so it’s probably for the best if we sleep in separate beds. You deserve your space, so I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep that from happening again.”

“Wait. Do you think I told you that because it bothered me?”

“Well, yeah. Didn't it?”

“Absolutely not. Get back over here.”

Steve gently pulled her over to lay back down with him. She was cautious at first, but she relaxed enough to rest her head on his shoulder again and let him hold her a little.

“Okay, so first of all, I didn’t tell you that for any of the reasons that are probably running through your head right now,” he started. “I told you because I was worried about you, and I wanted to make sure that you were okay. I don’t want you to think you have to keep your distance from me because that’s the last thing I’d want.”

“So, I didn’t make you uncomfortable?”

“Not even a little bit. The opposite of uncomfortable actually. It made me feel good about myself that you feel safe enough around me to seek me out for comfort even in your sleep. I thought it was cute. You were like a little koala.”

She was finally able to fully relax beside him after he said that, and she moved to cling to him again as he held her in his arms.

“So no wasting your money on an air mattress or asking Nancy for a room with two beds. As long as you’re okay sharing a bed with me, you don’t have to worry about reaching for me in your sleep. Okay?”

He punctuated his point by holding her just a little bit tighter, and she felt herself melting into his embrace.

“Okay.”

He wanted to ask her if this had anything to do with why she ran away from him when he hinted at his feelings for her the other morning, but he didn’t want to force her to talk about that. She had to bring that up on her own. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the two instances were connected though, and there was another part of him that was sure that this all had to do with her last relationship.

“In case you haven't noticed, I can be pretty clingy, too,” he told her. “Or did you forget that I was dead set on keeping you trapped in my arms the other two times we’ve shared a bed together?”

He kept his tone teasing and light. It was clear that this was something she struggled with - whether it was an extension of her uneasiness with PDA or not - and he didn't want her to think he was making fun of her when he was only trying to poke fun at himself.

“It must have slipped my mind,” she told him. “My memory is a little fuzzy. Maybe you could remind me?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

Steve made quick work of rolling them over so Chrissy was the one laying flat on her back, and he rested his head on her chest as he snaked his arms around her waist.

“Now, I know we're supposed to go get breakfast, but I'd like to request at least ten minutes of morning Chrissy cuddles before that happens. And, if you'd like to give me head scratches while those cuddles are happening, I wouldn't be opposed to that.”

“I think that could be arranged,” she said as she threaded a hand through his hair.

And really, it was the least she could do for him after he silenced yet another one of her bad thoughts. It amazed her how he always knew just what to say to calm her down and keep her from going into a full blown hate spiral. Part of her wanted to assume that it was because of how much experience he had with other girls, but there was another part of her that was certain that wasn't the case. This wasn't some rehearsed speech that he gave to just anyone. He made her feel seen in ways she'd never felt before, and because he could see her for who she really was, he could be her calm in the storm of her self-loathing. That fact both terrified and excited her, and she couldn't tell which feeling was stronger.

She didn't want to dwell on that though. She just wanted to enjoy this moment that she got to share with him, so she relaxed into his hold relishing in the little sigh of contentment he let out as she started to massage his scalp. And, because she was feeling especially nice, she gave him fifteen minutes of cuddle time instead of his requested ten.

***

After their breakfast date where Steve stayed true to his word from the day before and let Chrissy treat him, they made their way back to the hotel to meet up with Eddie and Nancy. The plan was to load up the car and get on the road to Philadelphia soon enough that they'd be there early enough to get lunch and do some exploring before dinner. And since it was only a little over three hours drive there, that was definitely doable. So, after Chrissy took the time to exchange contact information with Fred and Ethel with the intention of writing to each other once she was back home, the group set off for their next destination.

The drive itself passed mostly without incident. This time, Chrissy used her aux cord privileges to play one of Steve’s personal playlists when she realized that she’d only been catering to everyone else’s preferences, and it wasn’t fair that they hadn’t listened to any of his music yet. And maybe it was a little bit because he rewarded her with kisses whenever one of his favorite songs came on and he could safely manage it - even if Eddie complained about them being disgusting from the backseat.

It was only when they were stuck in traffic to get into the city that things got chaotic. They were in a complete standstill when someone drove past them on the shoulder, and Steve had a breakdown.

“There’s no - there’s no road there,” he said, staring out Chrissy’s window at where the car had just been. “How did - why would he - there’s no road there.”

“I think that guy broke Steve,” Eddie said from his spot in the backseat.

“Why would someone do that? And there’s those ridges on the edge. He’s just gonna go -” Steve started to click his tongue and make a thunking noise as he rotated his wrist the way the car wheels would go.

“How’s he gonna go?” Chrissy asked when he stopped.

Steve did the same thing again.

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” she told him. “One more time?”

Steve repeated the sound and motion again for only a second before he looked over and saw her attempting to look like the picture of innocence and failing to hide her shit-eating grin.

“I’m so sorry,” she said as she finally let out a laugh. “I had to. It was just so funny.”

“You think my mental anguish is funny?” he asked, punctuating his question with a poke to her side. “Me losing my mind over the insanity of other drivers is funny?”

“Maybe a little bit?” she told him. “Just the part where you imitated the way his car would sound.”

Steve gasped in mock offense and moved to repeatedly squeeze at Chrissy’s thigh directly above her knee. She squeaked before dissolving into a fit of giggles and gripping his hand to pull it away.

“No fair. You can't tickle me when I can't get you back,” she told him.

“So you're saying it's always okay to tickle you as long as I give you an opportunity to fight back?” He quirked an eyebrow and offered up a mischievous smirk.

“That's not what I meant, and you’re supposed to be paying attention to the road.”

“We’re in standstill traffic. I can multitask.”

“If you’re multitasking, you could kiss me instead.”

“And you think you’re deserving of kisses after making fun of me?”

“I’m always deserving of kisses actually.”

“But does that mean I deserve to vomit in the back of this car?” Eddie asked. “Get a room if you’re gonna be that sickeningly sweet.”

“But we can’t get a room,” Chrissy pouted. “We’re in standstill traffic. Don’t you want us to be happy?”

“Yeah, Eddie,” Steve teased. “Why can’t you just let us be happy?”

He leaned over and made a show of planting a sloppy kiss on Chrissy’s cheek that left her giggling at the spectacle.

“I’m going to throw myself in front of the fastest car I see the second we’re moving again,” Eddie told them. “When I was rooting for you two to kiss, I didn’t think I was going to be forced into so many nauseating situations.”

“You say that as if you weren’t even more nauseating than that when we first got together,” Nancy told him. “Cut them some slack.”

“Never. I need to run very far away from this. And not just because I’m being forced to watch my honorary sister get slobbered all over. I’ve spent way too much time trapped in the car already today. I need to break free.”

“Maybe we stop at Franklin Square Park first then?” Nancy suggested. “We can pick up lunch and head there to eat. Give you some time to run around and get out the zoomies?”

“I’m not a dog, Nancy. I don’t get the zoomies,” he pouted.

“Do you want to run around a little or not?”

“Yes. Please.”

When they’d finally made it through the traffic jam and into the city, they found a place that served cheesesteaks and then made their way over to Franklin Square Park to eat after buying their lunches. The group spread out in a grassy area to enjoy their food, and Eddie practically inhaled his the second they sat down. As soon as he finished, he turned to Chrissy.

“Airplanes?” he asked.

She gave a quick nod before wrapping up the half of her sandwich that was leftover.

“Airplanes.”

Eddie got to his feet and pulled Chrissy to get up with him. The two took off running through the playground area with their arms spread out at their sides like the wings of a plane. Steve watched them from where he was sitting, trying to ignore the slight pang of jealousy he was feeling.

“It gets easier,” Nancy told him. “Watching them interact like that, I mean.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You forget how well I know you. I know what you look like when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. At least, I don’t want to be.” And he didn’t. He had no right to try to claim all of Chrissy’s attention just because she was letting him kiss her. He shouldn’t be jealous of the bond she had with her best friend, and yet here he was wishing that he was the one she’d asked to hang upside down on the jungle gym with her.

“I was jealous, too. For the first couple months, I felt like an outsider looking in on their friendship whenever the three of us hung out. I figured it was because I thought they were dating the first time I saw them together, and for the longest time, I thought Chrissy didn't like me. I didn't realize it was because she's the shyest person I've ever met, and Eddie is maybe the only person she's ever been able to fully be her true authentic self with. And I think that's why he's so fiercely protective of her. To the extent she'll allow it, at least.”

“Yeah, he mentioned something about having to promise to stop fucking up his life on her behalf?”

“That's because he pretty much failed his first attempt at senior year for her.”

“He did what?”

“This fully stays between you and me. You can't tell either of them that I told you any of this, but Eddie told me about the heart to heart you had on the beach with Chrissy, so I know you know that her mom is just about the worst woman in the world.”

“Yeah, Mrs. Cunningham has quickly found a place in the top five of my shit list.”

“Well, until Chrissy started dating Jason, she was number one on Eddie's. I don't know the full story since Eddie and I didn't start dating until much later, but he told me he didn't want to leave her to deal with her mom alone. His grades already weren't that great, so he just stopped trying. He said that she was maybe the maddest she's ever been at him when he told her, and that's when she made him promise that while it was okay for him to worry about her, he wasn't allowed to do things that would put his life on hold for her. And that included confronting her mom or Jason about the way they treated her.

“And before you ask - because I know you, and I know you will - I don't know what Jason did to her. Even though he shares everything with me, he won't share Chrissy's secrets. That loyalty is one of the things that I love the most about him, but it still frustrates the hell out of me sometimes. She's his Robin though. They have their own little language, and if her mom would have let her get a job, I’m sure she would’ve dragged Eddie all over town to find one they could do together. Don’t get me wrong - I love that he has that with her. It’s just hard to look at them and know you’re not a part of it. Now that Chrissy and I are finally starting to become friends, that feeling is almost gone, but it really sucked at the beginning, so I get why you would be jealous.”

Steve glanced over at where Eddie and Chrissy were still doing acrobatics on the jungle gym before turning back to Nancy.

“So it gets easier?”

“Infinitely so. Stick with me, Steve. I’m a seasoned professional when it comes to dating into their friendship.”

Steve huffed out a laugh.

“Any other tips you wanna share?”

“You don't need any tips. From what I've seen, you're doing just fine on your own.”

“I just wish I knew what she was thinking the way he does. Every time she gets quiet on me, I'm afraid that I did something wrong until she lets something slip about the ways she's been hurt in the past. I've spent more time thinking about how much Jason Carver sucks in the past week than I did when I saw the guy every day.”

“You should talk to Eddie about that one. I know he won't tell you what happened between them, but he's well-versed in the art of suppressing the urge to punch Jason in the face. I think that might be partially why he's being so openly disgusted about you two kissing in front of him. He wants you both to be happy, and he knows that being all lovey dovey with each other is doing that, but he's also the one that put the pieces back together after Jason broke her. He'll never admit it out loud, but I know he's afraid of seeing her like that again, and that fear doesn't go away easily - even when he's friends with the new guy who's clearly already found a place in her heart.”

“I wouldn't hurt her. That's the last thing I'd ever want to do.”

“I know. I'm pretty sure he knows, too. You just gotta give him some time to get used to you kissing his sister.”

She leaned over to nudge him and knocked their shoulders together.

“You're a good guy, Steve. Chrissy's lucky to have you.”

“I’m pretty sure I'm the lucky one.”

Nancy didn't have time to respond before Eddie and Chrissy were running back over to them.

“Nance, there's a dragon seat on the carousel,” Eddie said as he approached them. “I need to ride it. Care to join me?”

“I'd love to.”

Nancy let Eddie pull her up and drag her off towards the carousel.

“Do you wanna ride it, too?” Steve asked Chrissy as he got to his feet.

“I'm not really a carousel kind of girl,” she told him. “But I noticed they have mini golf here, and I was thinking maybe that could be kind of fun if you'd want to go do that with me?”

“I don't know,” he said as he took her hand in his. “I'm kind of a pro when it comes to mini golf, and I wouldn't want you to feel bad when I absolutely decimate you.”

“Oh, I wouldn't mind. Maybe you could give me some pointers? Teach me how to play on the first hole so I might have a fighting chance?”

“As you wish.”

Chrissy led Steve over to the mini golf entrance, and after they’d paid for their tickets and equipment, they headed over to the first hole.

“Watch me do it first, and then I’ll help you with your stance, okay?” he said as he took his spot. He easily got the ball in on his second stroke before making his way back over to Chrissy.

“It’s a piece of cake,” he told her.

“I don’t know. Maybe you should show me how to stand?”

She was the picture of innocence, but he knew what she was really asking. This was just an excuse for him to wrap his arms around her for a moment without her having to be clingy like she feared she was that morning. He was more than happy to play along with whatever charade he needed to if it meant getting to hold her close.

He went to stand behind her before wrapping his arms around her to correct her grip on the putter. He ducked his head to press a soft kiss against her neck before resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Since when is kissing a part of mini golf?” she asked.

“It’s the most important part actually,” he told her as he kissed her neck again. “You've gotta relax to be good at this, and what better way to relax than with a few kisses?”

“You're crazy if you think kissing me like that is going to help me relax. I can't focus when you're doing that.”

“Mini golf first and then kisses?”

Chrissy nodded.

“As many kisses as you want.”

“Then I'll be kissing you forever.”

He noticed her starting to turn pink, so he kissed her blushing cheek one last time before actually helping her. He showed her how to line up her shot, and after a few practice swings, he backed up to let her play. She seemed a little uncertain on the first hole, and it took her four putts to get the ball in, but she was excited all the same.

“Wanna make this a little more fun?” she asked as they moved to the second hole.

“What did you have in mind?”

“How about a friendly wager? Loser has to buy the winner ice cream?”

“If you want to buy me ice cream, you can do it without making it a competition.”

“I wouldn't get too cocky,” she told him. “I could surprise you and win. C’mon. It'll be fun.”

“Okay, it's a bet.”

Steve got another hole in two on the second hole, and Chrissy surprised him by getting a hole in one. Part of him thought it had to be beginner’s luck, but he also thought it could be because he was an excellent teacher when he wasn't distracting her with kisses.

But then she got two more holes in one in a row, and beat him on the next hole after that. He must have looked just as confused as he felt because Chrissy giggled when she saw the look on his face.

“Did I forget to mention that my little brother absolutely loves mini golf, so I've taken him to the Hawkins Putt Putt almost every month for the last three years?”

“Yeah, I think you left that part out.”

“Must have slipped my mind,” she said with another giggle.

Steve took a couple steps to close the gap between them and wrapped his arms around her.

“Did you just hustle me?”

“Is it really hustling when I would've done much better on that first hole if you hadn't gotten me all worked up by saying you wanted to kiss me forever?”

“So that's the trick to beating you?” he asked. “Because I told you I don't like losing, and I will happily tell you everything I’d like to do with you later. Want a preview?”

He moved one hand to cradle her head, and the other pressed against the small of her back as he pulled her in for a kiss. Of course, they’d kissed before, but there was something different about this one. Something more desperate and needy as he deepened the kiss and held her closer. It left her weak in the knees and grabbing at him for support, and when he started to pull away, she was chasing his lips for more.

It was only when the fog cleared and she remembered that they were in public that she felt herself heating up with embarrassment. She buried her face in his chest to hide her beet red cheeks and willed herself to calm down.

“Steve,” she whined. “There are kids here.”

Steve glanced around the area still holding Chrissy trapped in his arms.

“I don’t see any kids. Besides, it's not like any kid’s just never seen a little kissing before. There’s a kiss at the end of every single one of those Disney movies.”

“They aren’t kissing like that in Tangled, Steven.”

He tried to peek around to see her face, but she turned her head to keep it hidden from him.

“No. I don't look cute when I'm embarrassed, so I don't want you to look at me.”

“I thought we'd already established that I think you're beautiful no matter how much you're blushing?”

Chrissy finally turned to look at him and pouted.

“That was mean,” she told him. “You can't get me all worked up like that in public. I don't like feeling so out of control in regards to my appearance when other people can see me. It makes me worry about what my mom would say if she could see me, and that's not fun for me even if the activities leading up to that feeling were more than enjoyable.”

It scared her to be so open about her insecurities with him, but she knew that she had to tell him this. If she didn't establish her boundaries now, all she'd be doing was setting the two of them up for failure later on. She braced herself for the anger and disappointment that she was sure he was going to express, but it never came.

“I’m sorry,” he told her. “I thought that we were just messing around and being playfully competitive, so I didn’t stop to think about how I was crossing your boundaries about PDA and making you uncomfortable. I promise not to do that again unless I have your permission first, okay?”

“Okay.” She wrapped her arms around him a little tighter. “Thank you.”

He kissed the top of her head before releasing her from his embrace.

“You know, you calling me Steven again reminded me that I haven’t tested out any new nicknames on you yet.” He took her hand in his and started to lead the way towards the next hole. “Is Chrissy short for anything?”

“Christine. But I don’t particularly like that either,” she admitted. “I’ve always just been Chrissy. My parents only ever use my full name when I’m in trouble or they want me to sound more mature in front of someone they’re trying to impress. It’s never felt like my name.”

“How about Teeny? It’s like the second half of your name, and it fits with how tiny and cute you are.”

Chrissy scrunched up her nose and shook her head.

“It’s not as bad as Chris, but it’s still not me.”

“I’ll keep thinking then. I’m gonna find the perfect nickname for you. Just you wait.”

For the rest of the game, Steve threw out increasingly ridiculous nickname options. Some of them sounded like they could have been derived from her name, and others were just random names that he threw out to make her laugh. At one point, he suggested calling her Esteban which had her doubled over and clinging to his arm for support as she told him that was just a Spanish version of his name.

Despite the distraction from all his silly nicknames and her laughter, Chrissy still managed to beat Steve by two strokes at the end of their game.

“I think I’m in the mood for strawberry,” she said as she bounded over to him.

“Whatever you want,” he replied. “I still can’t believe you hustled me.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss.

“You say that as if you wouldn’t have bought me ice cream anyway.”

“You’ve got me there.”

“Now, about that kiss from earlier.” She twisted her fingers in the ends of his hair, lightly scratching at the back of his neck. “Maybe keep that energy in mind when we’re alone in our room tonight?”

“As you wish.”

***

When they met back up with Eddie and Nancy, it was finally late enough that they could check into their hotel and come up with a plan for the rest of their evening.

“I’m thinking we drop our stuff off in our rooms, and then we can go grab takeout somewhere and have a movie night back here,” Nancy said as they stepped into their hotel’s elevator.

“Sounds good to me,” Eddie said before looking at the ground and pausing. “Well, that’s not suspicious at all.”

The group all glanced down at where he was looking and noticed the very out of place smear of what could have potentially been blood.

“Remind me not to take this elevator for the rest of our stay,” Steve said as he pulled Chrissy a little closer to him and farther away from the stain.

Their room was only on the second floor, so they didn’t have to be in the weird elevator long. Once they were on their floor, they separated to drop off their things. Chrissy was just about ready to leave their room again when Steve tackled her onto one of the beds.

“What are you doing?” she asked through her giggles as he pinned her to the mattress. “We’re supposed to be back in the hallway in five minutes.”

“A lot of kissing can happen in five minutes,” he told her before leaning down to capture her lips with his own. This kiss wasn’t as intense as the one from earlier, but she could tell it was on its way to getting there.

“Later,” she told him when they broke apart. “We both know that five minutes isn’t enough time for all the kissing you wanna do. Besides, right now I’m a little more concerned with the fact that I think someone was stabbed in the elevator.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about. I’ll protect you.”

“My hero. Now, let me up so we can go get dinner.”

Instead of climbing off of her, Steve went limp and laid across her.

“She hates me. She says she hates me.”

“I didn't say that. I said we had to get dinner.”

“Same difference.”

“Would a kiss help convince you that I don't hate you?”

“Maybe.”

Steve lifted his head and waited for a quick peck, but the mischievous smile on Chrissy’s face said she had other plans. Before he knew what was happening, she was using all her strength to roll him off of her. She moved to straddle his waist and easily pinned his wrists to the mattress beneath them. He was still in shock when she leaned down to give him the most intense kiss that she'd initiated so far.

It was over almost as quickly as it started though, and soon she was climbing off of him to head towards the door to their room. Steve made no moves to get up and follow her though.

“Aren't you coming?” she asked.

“Give me a minute. That was maybe the hottest thing a girl has ever done to me, and I need a moment to recover.”

Chrissy giggled as she moved back over to him. She grabbed his wrists and pulled him up into a sitting position.

“C’mon. It wasn't that hot.”

“Oh yeah? Well, we'll see how you feel about that when I've got you in the same position later.”

“I’ll eagerly await it then.”

***

The group ended up getting Chinese takeout and heading back to Steve and Chrissy’s room to watch a movie. It wasn't that he was trying to rush their friends out of their room, but Steve was faking a yawn as soon as the movie was over. He just wanted a little alone time with Chrissy, and he wanted it sooner rather than later.

“So, what should we do now?” he asked her as soon as Eddie and Nancy were out the door.

“Well, why don't we get ready for bed, and we just go from there?” she suggested. “You can take the bathroom first since I'm pretty sure my nighttime routine takes longer than yours.”

Steve took almost no time in the bathroom and waited for Chrissy by lounging on their bed and catching up on the texts he'd been neglecting. Dustin, El, and Robin had all been blowing up his phone with questions about how he was enjoying his trip and news about what they were doing in his absence, and he'd been too focused on being in the moment with Chrissy to respond with the frequency he normally would have.

When she was finally done in the bathroom and reentered their room, Steve threw back the blankets on Chrissy's side of the bed and opened his arms for her. He was still thinking about what she'd said that morning about being afraid that she was too clingy, and he was going to do everything in his power to prove to her that he'd always be more than happy to hold her in his arms and cuddle her to her heart’s content. She had the biggest smile on her face as she climbed into bed and snuggled up to him, so he was taking that as another win in his crusade to make her feel better about herself.

“Give me five minutes to finish up this conversation with Robin, and then I'm all yours, okay?”

She nodded and kissed his jaw before settling in with her own phone. Soon, she was laughing at whatever she was looking at, and he was peeking over at her screen.

“What's so funny?” he asked.

“Oh, it's nothing,” she said as she angled her phone towards him. “Just this picture of my friend April from her private stories.”

Steve took in the photo which consisted of a group of people that he recognized as mostly members of the basketball team and cheerleading squad. Chrissy’s friend April was front and center with Jason basically hanging off of her. He would've thought this might have upset her, but April had added “it's giving desperation” with a vomiting emoji over the picture.

“I think he's been trying to make his way through the entire squad since he dumped me, and April is the only hold out. Even if she wasn't the only one who's stayed my friend through all of that, he wouldn't have a chance with her. He'll never be her type if you know what I mean.”

Chrissy immediately clapped a hand over her mouth.

“I shouldn't have said that. Pretend I didn't say that.”

“Oh, so she’s-”

“Yes, but you have to promise you won't say anything about it to anyone. I'm pretty sure I'm the only person who knows outside of her family.”

“I knew about Robin for ages before she came out at graduation, and I never told anyone, so her secret’s safe with me.”

But the wheels were already turning in Steve's head with ideas of him getting to go on double dates with his best friend. His conversation with Robin was close to wrapping up anyway, so he just had to slip in the framework for this idea before he gave Chrissy his full attention.

Steve: chrissy and I are probably gonna go to bed soon so I should wrap this up

Steve: but I need you to keep the rest of your summer free for me once I'm back

Robin: I mean you're my entire social calendar until college so

Robin: does this have anything to do with the girl that's currently in your bed?

Steve: maybe

Steve: just prepare to be sick of hanging out with me by the time you leave

Robin: impossible

Robin: love you or whatever dingus

Steve: love you or whatever too

Steve set his phone aside and turned his attention back towards Chrissy. As soon as he'd set his phone down, she was moving to set hers down on the nightstand, too.

“So, what did you have in mind for us tonight?” he asked her.

“I don't know. It just occurred to me that my parents would lose their minds if they knew that I’ve been sharing a bed with a boy.”

“Oh, really?” He moved to hold her a little closer. “What if they found out you were cuddling with that boy?”

“They'd be positively scandalized,” she said with a knowing smirk.

“You don't say,” he said with a smirk of his own and a raised eyebrow. “And if you were kissing that boy?”

“Oh, they'd never recover. They'd have to flee the country in shame because their darling disappointment of a daughter was such a common whore.”

They were both holding back laughter as Steve finally leaned in to kiss her. This was different from any other kiss they'd shared. He'd been trying to be so respectful of the boundaries that Chrissy had put in place that they hadn't really made out like this before. It had all been quick kisses and cuddling up until now, but she'd told him to hang on to that desperate energy from earlier, so that was exactly what he planned on doing.

At first, it was all wandering hands and trying to figure out exactly how they fit together until she wrapped one arm around his neck and tangled the fingers from her other hand in his hair. He gripped her hips and held her flush against him as he replicated that kiss from earlier. The only difference was that she was just as greedy as he was this time around, tugging at his lower lip and chasing him for more when he pulled away slightly.

“And what if that boy kissed you right here?” he asked before moving to nip at her neck, his teeth grazing against her pulse point.

She couldn't find the words to respond. All she could manage was a gasp as her grip tightened and she tugged on his hair. He groaned against her neck, and he felt the way she shuddered against him.

“Maybe we take your parents out of the equation now?”

She nodded vigorously.

“Please,” she uttered before pulling him in to kiss her again.

He would never tire of hearing her say please before a kiss. To hear that she not only welcomed his advances but was just as desperate to be touched by him as he was to touch her - it was almost too much for him to handle.

As their kissing intensified, he felt her rocking her hips against his own, and she moaned into his mouth from the pleasure of that friction. He moved to fiddle with the hem of her shirt, but the second he touched the bare skin of her stomach, she froze on him. She wasn't kissing him back anymore. She was barely moving. She only stayed like that for a moment before she was grabbing at his wrist and struggling against him.

“No,” she said as she pushed his hand away from her body. “Don't.”

Steve pulled away immediately and moved to sit up next to her. That last thing he wanted to do was keep touching her when she clearly didn't want that, but her reaction stung more than he wanted to admit.

“What did I do?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Chrissy moved to sit up next to him, and he could see the tears welling up in her eyes.

“Shit. I'm sorry.” He wanted to do something to try to comfort her, but he was afraid that she'd push him away if he tried to touch her again. “I don't know what happened, but whatever I did, I'm so sorry.”

“Too much,” she whispered. “Too fast.”

“Do you want some space? I can go to the other bed.”

He started to climb off their bed, but she grabbed his hand to stop him.

“Don't. Please stay.”

She was quiet for a couple minutes almost as if she was willing herself not to fully cry in front of him, and every minute felt like an eternity for Steve as he waited for her to tell him exactly how he'd messed up.

“I'm sorry,” she said when she finally spoke up. “You touched me, and I panicked, but that was fully a me issue.”

“Can you please explain it to me then? I want to understand, so I don't make the same mistake again.”

“That's the thing though. You didn't make any mistakes. If I was any other girl, that wouldn't have happened.”

She wiped at her eyes with the back of her free hand.

“Maybe I should have talked to you about this before we started,” she told him. “But I didn't realize I would react that way. I thought it would be different with you.”

She took a deep breath and squeezed his hand.

“I know there were rumors about me in high school, and I'm sure you heard some of them just like I heard rumors about Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington. Rumors about just how far I was willing to go with Jason and all of the things I let him do to me.”

Steve would be lying if he said that wasn't true. Jason wasn't exactly quiet when he bragged to the guys in the locker room. He'd always thought that Jason was exaggerating a little bit, but he'd also figured there was at least some truth to what he'd overheard.

“But I need you to know none of that was true,” she continued. “Jason and I . . . We never . . . I mean, we didn't . . . I never let him get past second base, and even then, his hands always stayed on the outside of my clothes. It never felt right with him. Like it was an obligation that I was required to fill as his girlfriend, but it was never something that I felt ready for, so it never happened. I always assumed that I would be ready eventually, so I let him say whatever he needed to say to the guys to placate him. Those rumors were probably all true in a sense. I’m sure he really was doing all the things that he claimed he was doing. He just wasn’t doing them with me.

“I don't want to talk about that though. I just needed you to know that I'm not as experienced as you might have thought I was, so that was a part of why I reacted that way. So, I'll understand if you don't want to share a bed with me tonight or be anywhere near me for awhile really. You'll probably want your space. That's how it always goes, so I'm used to being pushed away by now. I won’t be upset if that’s what you want. Honest.”

Steve's anger at Jason had moved past just wanting to be an annoyance in his life. He was starting to wonder if Hopper would let him get away with running the guy over with his car.

“Permission to hug you?” he asked as he opened his arms a little.

Chrissy nodded before moving to wrap her arms around him with her head tucked into the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close being careful to keep his hands on her back. She never pulled away from him when he touched her there, so he figured that was a safe place for them.

“Thank you for opening up to me,” he started. “That didn't seem easy for you to say, and I want you to know that I appreciate you doing that for me. I realize we're doing this whole dating thing in a weird order. I mean, we shared a bed before either of us were even able to admit we liked each other. That's definitely not the norm. But that doesn't mean you have to rush into something you're not ready for.”

“It doesn't?”

“It doesn't. I really like you, and I don't want you to ever feel like I'm pressuring you into something that you don't want to do. You get to set the pace here.”

“And you won't be mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“I don't know. Just because.”

“Well, I'm not mad at you. I'll never get mad at you over your boundaries. Just let me know what I did wrong, and I won't do it again.”

She stayed quiet again as she struggled to find the right way to tell him why she reacted the way she did.

“My stomach,” she finally whispered. “You touched my stomach.”

She held him a little tighter, and he started to rub her back doing what little he could do to provide some comfort as she explained herself.

“There are parts of me that I'm self-conscious about,” she admitted. “I don't want to feel that way, but I do. So, when you touched one of those spots without my clothing as a protective shield, I panicked. I just don't think I'm ready for that kind of skin contact. I thought I was, but I’m not. Not tonight at least. And I'm sorry if my reaction hurt you. It was involuntary, but I need you to know that I want to be with you. It just might take me a minute to be ready.”

“I want to be with you, too,” he told her before kissing the top of her head. “I'm happy to slow things down if that's what you need. And I think you're perfect, you know? I know that I don't get everything that’s going on in your head, but I think you're beautiful inside and out.”

“Really?”

“You think I’d lie to you about something like that? There isn’t a single part of you that I would change.”

“Thank you. And, for the record, I feel the same way about you. Don’t let it go to your head or anything.”

“Too late. I can already feel my ego inflating.”

Chrissy snort-laughed and hugged Steve a little tighter.

“I'm sorry I killed the mood.”

“Don't be. If you're not comfortable, we're not doing anything. Simple as that. Do you wanna watch a movie or something until we fall asleep instead?”

“Can we watch Fraggle Rock? That always makes me feel better.”

“Whatever you want.”

Chrissy pulled away from Steve to grab her iPad from her bag. She took a moment to set it up with an episode of her comfort show and propped it up on the nightstand before moving to lay down. Steve laid down with her and draped an arm over her waist to pull her back against his chest.

As he tucked his chin around her shoulder and moved to kiss her cheek, Chrissy felt herself holding back tears again. She established a boundary about how far she was willing to go, and Steve had respected that boundary immediately. And even then, he still wanted to be close to her in the ways she was comfortable with. If this had been Jason, he would’ve kicked her out of the bed and spent the rest of the evening doing his best to make her feel small for disappointing him. Never in a million years would he have let her cuddle up to him and choose what they got to watch. It was so refreshing to know that her feelings mattered, too, and that alone helped to melt away some of her insecurities about physical intimacy.

As she started to drift off in the middle of their second episode, it occurred to her that this is what a healthy relationship felt like. And maybe - just maybe - that was the kind of relationship she deserved to be in.

***

When Chrissy woke up the next morning, she felt cold. She and Steve had rolled away from each other in the middle of night, and she missed the comfort of his embrace. His back was to her, so she wormed her arm between his and his side and pressed herself up against his back so she could be the big spoon.

Steve stirred as she clung to him and took her hand in his to give it a little squeeze.

“G’morning,” he mumbled as he rolled over to face her.

“Good morning. You sleep okay?”

He nodded. “Kiss?”

She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss before snuggling deeper into his arms.

“Thank you again for being so understanding last night,” she told him. “I really appreciated it.”

“Don't mention it. You deserve to be comfortable with whatever we're doing.”

“Yeah, but you went above and beyond to make sure I was okay. It was really very sweet of you.”

“Stopping immediately and making sure you were okay is the bare minimum here. I'm just the first decent guy you've ever been with, so it feels like I did more.”

“Well, I can't argue with you there.”

She kissed him again and moved to trail her fingers up and down his spine.

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Remember that morning when you and Eddie overslept, and Nancy and I had to come wake you up?”

He nodded again.

“Well, I noticed that you weren't wearing a shirt when you got up, and you didn't wear a shirt to bed the first night that we all shared that motel room together. But I also noticed that you've worn a shirt every time that we've shared a bed, and I was kind of wondering why that is?”

“Well, that first night, I just didn't think you'd be comfortable if I didn't have one on especially because I was worried you were already uncomfortable about sharing with me and just pretending you were okay with it to be nice.”

“You thought I was just being nice?”

“Until you started torturing me, yeah,” he teased. “But after that, I just didn't want to push your boundaries, and you never said anything about it until now, so I figured I was doing the right thing.”

“Well, you've cared so much about me being comfortable, and I want you to know that I care about your comfort, too. So, if you're more comfortable sleeping without a shirt, I'd be fine with you doing that.”

“Oh, you'd be fine with that, huh?” he asked with a teasing smirk. “And it has everything to do with my comfort and nothing to do with you wanting to see me shirtless? I'm onto you, Chrissy. I know what games you're playing here.”

She moved to tickle his side, and he flinched and barked out a laugh before rolling them over so he could pin her to the bed beneath him. He leaned in to kiss her, and it was only when he felt her smile against his lips that he struck, tickling up and down her sides and relishing in the way she squirmed beneath him and giggled into their kiss.

This only lasted for a moment, and soon he was moving to lay back down with her, holding her hands in his own to keep her from trying to get him back while he talked to her.

“So, I know it's my turn to buy you breakfast, and I still intend on doing that, but I need to know if I can have another half an hour of sleepy cuddles first?”

“Not a morning person?” Chrissy asked.

“Not even a little bit. When Dustin inevitably invents something that allows him to become supreme ruler of the world, my only request is going to be that he makes it illegal for anyone to wake me up before ten at the earliest.”

“So what I'm hearing is that I'm going to be sent to jail immediately if that happens.”

“I think I'd let them make an exception for you. Only if you promise to stay in bed with me as late as I want.”

“And what if I want breakfast before you're ready to get up?”

“Obviously, Dustin will also assign me my own personal butler as a thank you for driving him around all the time, so he can bring you breakfast in bed.”

“Well, you've just got everything figured out then, I guess.” Chrissy took a quick glance at the clock on the nightstand. “My alarm actually isn't supposed to go off for another forty-five minutes, so if you wanted, we could go back to sleep until then. But you'll have to let me get up to shower as soon as the alarm goes off if we want to have enough time for our breakfast date.”

“Have I mentioned that you're my favorite?” he asked. “Because you are.”

“I don't think you have, but it's lovely to hear.”

“Then I'll say it again.” He leaned in and gave her a kiss, lingering just a moment longer than he normally would in an attempt to convey everything he felt for her in that moment. That he wanted to be with her, and he knew whatever was starting between them was something real even if it was brand new and scary. “You're my favorite.”

Steve rolled over to lay on his back so she could rest her head on his chest and snuggle closer to him as they fell back asleep.

“You're my favorite, too,” she whispered.

***

Going to a major league baseball game was one of the few things that Steve had put on his list for the trip. Since there were no Indiana teams at that level, it wasn't something he got to do very often, and he thought it could be a fun excursion for everyone. And, since he was willing to buy everyone’s tickets to the game, even Eddie couldn’t complain about going to a sporting event. That might have been because he was having what appeared to be an allergic reaction to his room, and he was thankful for any reason to get out of the hotel. And the fact that the murder elevator was out of service that morning didn't help either.

“I don't understand it,” he said as they took their seats in the ballpark. “I'm fine literally everywhere else in the hotel, but I feel like I'm dying when I'm in our room.”

“We can stop and pick up some allergy medicine for you on the way back to the hotel,” Nancy told him. “And most of tomorrow is our drive to Salem, so you can get some more sleep then if you have another rough night.”

“We can swap rooms with you tonight if you think it'll help,” Chrissy offered.

“I'll be fine,” Eddie said. “It's only one more night, and if whatever I'm allergic to is something like the fabric softener or whatever, switching rooms won't make a difference.”

“Okay, but the offer is still on the table if you change your mind.”

“So which team are we rooting for?” Eddie asked. “Or does it matter?”

“The home team.” Steve gestured to the well-loved Phillies cap on his head.

“Cool. Now I know who not to heckle.”

“Do you even understand baseball?” Chrissy asked.

“Barely. I just like to be loud.”

And loud Eddie was. He spent the majority of the first two innings yelling whenever it seemed like the rest of the crowd was reacting to what was happening on the field, and while he wasn’t really following the game, he had the spirit.

But, what surprised Steve even more was the fact that Chrissy was just as invested in the game as he was. She was cheering along with every run or incredible save that the Phillies made and grumbling under her breath about how the ref was clearly blind when he made calls in favor of the other team. If he wasn’t already smitten with her, seeing her like that would have sealed the deal.

“I didn’t know you were such a big Phillies fan,” he mentioned during a break between innings.

“Oh, I’m not loyal to any one team in particular,” she admitted. “But I’ve always enjoyed watching the games no matter who’s playing, and if you say we’re rooting for the Phillies, the cheerleader in me is going to understand the assignment. I’d be willing to pledge my undying loyalty to them if it’s important to you though.”

Steve laughed and took Chrissy's hand in his.

“That's not necessary, right now,” he told her as he gave her hand a little squeeze. “Maybe in the future, but I just like that you're enjoying this, too.”

They shared a look, but their moment was interrupted by Eddie swatting at Chrissy's arm.

“Take a look at the screen, lovebirds.”

The two turned their attention towards the scoreboard where they saw that their faces were blown up and displayed surrounded by a Kiss Cam frame.

“I didn't realize they still did that at games,” Steve said. He was frozen in place and unable to decide what to do. On one hand, he had absolutely no issue with kissing her and would happily do that if it was what she wanted. On the other hand, this was a pretty large amount of PDA, and he didn't want to do anything that crossed her boundaries and made her uncomfortable.

He was about to offer to lean over her and kiss Eddie just to make her laugh and take the attention off of her when she surprised him by leaning in and kissing him first. It wasn't an intense kiss by any means necessary, but it was definitely more public than anything she'd been comfortable with before. As soon as she pulled away, she took the cap off of his head and placed it on her head, lowering the brim to hide her blushing cheeks from the camera. He leaned in to kiss her cheek and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as soon as a different couple was on the screen.

“Wanna go get some ice cream?” he asked.

“Won't we miss part of the game if we get up?”

“We'll still be able to hear the announcers, and I'm sure we won't be gone that long.”

“Can we find one of those places that serves soft serve in one of those tiny plastic souvenir hats?”

“That’s the only acceptable way to eat ice cream at a baseball game, so absolutely we can.”

The two got up from their seats and ventured into the stadium to find a concession stand that was selling what they wanted.

“So, have you always been a Phillies fan?” Chrissy asked once they were in the proper line. “Most of the guys I know follow one of the Chicago teams or even Cincinnati since they're all so much closer to where we live.”

“They were my grandpa’s favorite team. He grew up out here and moved to Hawkins for work after college. Baseball was always one of his favorite things, and he hated that he ended up in a state that didn't have their own team. I think he would've moved back here if he hadn't met my nana. He loved her enough to live two hours away from the closest major league stadium.”

“That's really sweet.”

“It is. My parents don't exactly have a great marriage, and my dad's parents were about as involved in my life as he was, so I think I can count on one hand the number of times I actually saw them. But my mom's parents were the real deal.”

“Were?”

“They were a lot older than my other grandparents because they had my mom a little later in life. I probably got to spend as much time with them as I did because my grandpa was already retired by the time I was born. Whenever I wasn't with a nanny, I was with my grandparents. Why spend money on childcare when you have perfectly good parents to dump your kid on, right? But my nana passed away from cancer when I was in middle school, and grandpa passed right before Nancy and I started dating.”

“I'm sorry. That really sucks.”

“Don't be. I miss them, but I'm not overwhelmingly sad about it anymore. All of that information was just to say that my grandpa was the one who got me into baseball. When I was seven, he took me to my first ever major league game in Cincinnati when the Phillies were playing the Reds. We had the best seats right behind the Phillies dugout, and he let me eat more hot dogs than any child should ever consume. It was maybe the best day I ever spent with him. He actually bought me that hat as we were leaving the game as a memory of the day we had together. I never got to see his favorite team play their home field with him, so bringing the hat here was like having a little part of him with me today.”

Chrissy pulled the hat off of her head and tried to hand it back to him.

“I wouldn't have taken it if I'd known how much it meant to you.”

“It looks cute on you,” he told her as he took the hat out of her hands to place it back on her head. “I'm gonna want it back at the end of the day, but you can keep wearing it for now.”

Chrissy stood on her tiptoes to kiss Steve's cheek, and when it was their turn to order, she insisted on paying.

“You paid for all of us to come here, so the least I could do is get you a mid-game treat.”

“But I was the one who suggested we go get ice cream in the first place, so it was implied that it was gonna be my treat.”

“Absolutely not. Sometimes I get to treat you, too, Stephen.”

“Whatever you say, Chrysanthemum,” he teased, throwing out another one of his jokey nicknames.

“I think that one is really pretty actually,” she told him after considering the name for a moment. “I wouldn't mind being called a flower when you're teasing me.”

“Then that's what I'll call you. You'll be my flower. My Chrysanthemum.”

“Oh, so I'm yours now?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah. You're mine, and I'm yours. I figured we'd established that already.”

Chrissy couldn't stop her smile from spreading across her face. She really liked the sound of that.

***

After the Phillies absolutely decimated the other team, the group went out for dinner. When Eddie noticed the wall decorated with colored kids menus, he spoke to the hostess for the group.

“We'd like four of your finest kids menus and the best crayons you can find,” he told her.

“Aren't you guys a little too old for the kids menu?”

“You're never too old for reasonably priced chicken tenders and coloring pages.”

The hostess just shrugged and grabbed the menus and crayons Eddie requested before leading them to a booth.

“I'd like to make a wager,” Eddie announced to the table. “Specifically with Steve, but you lovely ladies are welcome to join in if you want. Whoever colors the picture on the back of their menu the best wins. Loser buys everyone ice cream after dinner.”

“And who's going to be the judge of this contest?” Steve asked.

“Chrissy and Nancy, obviously.”

“And if it ends in a tie?”

“Then we'll ask the waitress for a tie breaker, but I doubt we'll need one when everyone sees how much better my picture is than yours.”

“Okay. You're on.”

As the boys worked on their coloring pages, Nancy tried to hold a conversation with Chrissy, but she noticed that her friend seemed to be overly distracted by the competition happening next to them. She watched as the girl’s focus seemed to be entirely on Steve and what his hands were doing, and she had to stifle a laugh when she noticed Chrissy sneaking a picture of him.

“Your heart eyes are showing,” she said as she nudged Chrissy's foot with her own under the table.

That snapped Chrissy out of her focus, and she set her phone face down on the table in front of her as she tried to ignore the blush growing on her cheeks.

“Sorry. I was distracted.”

“I could tell. It's cute though. I like seeing how happy you two make each other. And, yes, I'm saying this while he's in earshot just to embarrass you a little bit.”

Steve lifted his head from his work and turned to kiss Chrissy’s cheek.

“So, you're happy?” he asked her.

“Very much so.”

“Good. I'm happy, too. And I'll be even happier once I've won us that free ice cream.”

He gave her another quick kiss, and then he was back to his coloring.

The girls started playing hangman on the backs of their menus, and soon enough, the guys were ready for them to judge. And, as Steve had anticipated, their contest ended in a tie.

“Judas,” Eddie said when Chrissy voted for Steve over him.

“Look at the shading on his picture though,” she replied. “How could I not vote for him?”

Steve draped an arm around her shoulders, and she tucked herself into his side.

“She likes me best,” Steve grinned.

“What did I tell you about letting my affection go to your head?” she asked.

“It's too late. I can feel my ego inflating as we speak.”

“So does that mean your hair is going to get even bigger?” Eddie asked.

Steve wadded up his straw wrapper and flicked it at Eddie’s head.

It was then that their waitress appeared with their orders.

“Is there anything else I can get you guys while I'm here?” she asked after she'd distributed their food.

“Actually, could you do us a favor?” Eddie asked. He pulled Steve’s picture towards himself and then held up the two pages for the waitress.

“Settle a wager for us. Which one of these is the better coloring job?”

She considered their work for a moment before pointing at Steve's.

“I think I've gotta go with this one,” she told them. “I mean, he wrote ‘by: Steve, age 19 ½’ it the corner. It's kind of iconic. Do you care if I hang it up on the wall with the others?”

“Go right ahead.”

The waitress took his picture, and Chrissy and Nancy burst out laughing as soon as she was away from the table.

“The party is going to lose it when they hear about your ‘iconic’ work,” Nancy said between giggles.

“Absolutely not,” Steve replied. “None of them can ever hear about this. They make fun of me enough already. I just wanted the free ice cream. Promise none of you will ever say anything about this to them.”

“You think I'm gonna tell ‘em?” Eddie asked. “The only thing more embarrassing than winning a coloring contest is losing one.”

“I make no such promises,” Nancy decided. “But I'll accept bribes.”

“You won't tell them, will you?” Steve asked Chrissy.

“Me? Never.”

“I knew you were my favorite for a reason.”

As they ate their meals, Chrissy couldn't help but think that it was a little silly of Steve to think he needed to ask that of her. She didn't even know the party, so why would he need her to make that promise? It was unnecessary unless he intended on introducing her to them once they were back in Hawkins. It warmed her heart to think that he already wanted to share such an important part of his life with her, and she never wanted to forget that feeling.

So, before they left the restaurant, she made a point to go over and take a picture of Steve's artwork on the wall. She wasn't going to share that picture with anyone. She just wanted it as a reminder of this moment.

***

“I'm stealing your pajama top,” Chrissy said as she pulled the t-shirt that Steve normally slept in out of his suitcase. He'd already changed into what he was wearing for bed that night, and he'd left his shirt off like she'd told him he could that morning. “It's so much softer than mine, and I might as well wear it if you're not going to.”

She was about to gather her things off of the dresser and head into the bathroom to get ready for bed when Steve spoke up and stopped her in her tracks.

“You know, you don't have to go into the bathroom to change if you don't want to,” he told her. “I mean, I just change out here, and it's not like I've never seen boobs before.”

She wished it was that easy. That he could say that and she'd magically feel comfortable taking her clothes off while he was in the room. Of course, she wouldn't need to get completely naked in front of him, and he'd already seen her in a swimsuit, but this was different. Her underwear didn't cover nearly as much as her bikini did, and that was already a struggle for her. She wanted nothing more than to be able to be that vulnerable with him, but she was frozen in her spot.

Maybe he noticed how shaky she seemed at that moment or maybe it was because she had gripped the hem of her shirt and started tugging it down so tightly that her knuckles were stark white, but Steve immediately backtracked his statement.

“I don't want to make you feel like you have to do anything you're uncomfortable with,” he told her. “I was just saying that you don't have to put that extra effort into getting changed if you didn't want to.”

He never reacted badly when she told him about one of her insecurities, so maybe she could share this with him, too. She took a deep breath and calmed herself down a little bit before speaking.

“It's not that I don't want to change in front of you,” she told him. “It's that I physically can't bring myself to do it.”

“You can't, but maybe I can?”

“What?”

Steve got up from his place on the bed and crossed over to where Chrissy was standing. He took her hands - which were still gripping the hem of her shirt - in his and rubbed gentle circles into their backs with his thumbs until she relaxed her grip.

“Let me help you,” he told her. “Just say the word, and I'll stop, but let me help you so it feels less scary.”

He dropped her hands and moved to the hem of her shirt. She moved to rest her hand on one of his wrists, and he paused.

“It's just you and me,” he said, looking into her eyes. “Just us. The only thing that matters right now is what you want.”

She took another deep breath.

“It's just us,” she repeated. “I want you to do it.”

“As you wish.”

She dropped her hand away from his, and he slowly lifted the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and off of her body. The only time he broke eye contact with her was when her shirt was blocking her face, and he couldn't fully see her. His eyes never wandered towards the parts of her that she was so desperate to keep hidden, and that helped her to relax.

“Tell me what to do,” he told her. “Whatever you want.”

“My shorts. You can - you can get rid of those, too.”

He nodded, and once again, he kept his eyes on her face as he worked on removing her clothes. And, when his knuckles brushed against her stomach as he unbuttoned her shorts, she didn't flinch or try to push him away like she had the night before. Maybe it was because they weren't in bed this time, but she had a feeling that wasn't the case. This felt so much more intimate than that, and she didn't want to shrink away from him anymore. She didn't want to deny herself because of the horrible things people had said to her in the past.

It was just the two of them. Nothing else mattered.

Soon, her shorts were falling to the floor, and Steve held her hands to steady her as she stepped out of them. She'd never felt so exposed in front of another person before, but she wasn't scared. Not of Steve and not of what he thought about her. He didn't expect her to be some flawless little plaything. He accepted her flaws and all, and that helped her more than she knew how to express in words.

He didn't make any moves to try to remove her undergarments after that. Just kept holding her hands and looking at her like he was trying to read the emotions on her face. And that was exactly what she needed. She didn't think she was ready to be fully bare in front of him. She wasn't ready for what that would lead to. But, she was ready for this. She could do this little bit, and maybe tomorrow she could change in front of him without his help. She was willing to try. He made her want to try. But for tonight, that was maybe enough.

“I think I'm ready to cover up now,” she told him.

“Whatever you want.”

He dropped her hands and handed her his shirt that she'd left on the dresser. She pulled it on over her head and gathered up the rest of her things.

“I'm going to go finish getting ready for bed.”

And with that, she scurried off into the safety of the bathroom to go through her nightly routine. It was only when she really looked at herself in the mirror as she wiped away the toothpaste that had dribbled onto her chin that the realization hit her.

Steve hadn't pawed at her. He hadn't asked her for more than what she was willing to do, and he hadn't ogled her even though he had every opportunity to do so. He respected her and let her be in control of the situation even though he could have touched her in whatever ways he wanted with the position she’d allowed herself to be put into.

Oh.

She didn't need to hide from him like she'd needed to hide herself in the past. He wasn't going to take advantage of her. Of course, deep down she'd already known that. It just hadn't fully clicked into place until now.

When she exited the bathroom, Steve was sitting up in bed and playing with his phone, but he set it aside as soon as he saw her. Wordlessly, she moved to climb into the bed, but instead of sitting next to him, she straddled his waist and sat back on his thighs. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him soft and slow. His hands moved to grip her hips, and soon he was chasing her lips for more as she pulled away.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“You see me,” she whispered. “I don't have to pretend with you the way I've been pretending with nearly everyone else in my life for who knows how long. And I want to show you how much I appreciate the way you push me to open up while still respecting my boundaries.”

Her hands fell away from his face and moved to start lifting up the hem of her shirt, but it was Steve’s turn to grip her wrist and stop her.

“You don't have to do this if you don't want to,” he told her. “I'm not expecting this from you. We don't have to do anything tonight, or even for the rest of this trip. I'm not going to pressure you for more, and I don't want you to feel obligated into doing anything.”

“Has no one ever told you that respecting a girl’s boundaries is the biggest turn on?” she asked. “That's not why I'm doing this though. I know I'm not ready for that, so that's not happening tonight. But I still want to show you something more. Let me be brave.”

He nodded and let go of her wrist allowing her to take off her top and set it next to them on the bed. She'd taken off her bra in the bathroom, so, with the exception of her pajama shorts, she was bare before him.

“I'm not ready for everything,” she told him as she leaned in to whisper in his ear. “But I’m ready for a little more. If you can see skin right now, that's where you're allowed to touch me when things start to heat up again. I want you to touch me.”

She kissed his jaw and then moved back to let him really look at her. She'd taken down her ponytail, so the ends of her hair curled around her shoulders. She nervously bit her lower lip, and as she looked at him waiting for a response, he was rendered speechless by how beautiful she was. How any girl who looked like her could have any insecurities was a mystery to him. She was perfect.

She placed a hand under his chin to close his mouth, and it was only then that he realized his jaw had dropped at seeing her like that.

“Whatcha starin’ at?” she asked with a slight laugh. “I thought you said you'd seen boobs before?”

“None as perfect as yours.”

She started to blush, and he watched as it spread to her neck and collarbones. It made him wonder just how far he could make that blush go and how much teasing it would take to make that happen.

“I think I've exposed myself enough for one night,” she said as she pulled the t-shirt back towards her and started to redress. She didn't sound uncomfortable though. She was content, and she didn't want to push herself too far in one go.

Once she was covered, she leaned in to kiss him again.

“I'm not used to accepting compliments,” she said as she pulled away.

“I'm more than happy to help you practice.”

He moved to tuck her hair back behind her ear and press a kiss against the stretch of her neck that he'd just exposed.

“You're beautiful, Chrissy, and your vulnerability is a gift that I'm so thankful you were willing to share with me. I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you never regret that.”

“I won't regret it. Not with you.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to flip them around so she was the one leaning against the pillows and he was holding himself up over her.

“Tell me what you want from me.”

“I want you to show me what you would have done to me last night if I hadn't stopped you.”

“And you'll stop me again when I've hit your boundary?”

She nodded. “I trust you.”

That was all the confirmation he needed before crashing their lips together. Maybe she was right about respect being the biggest turn on because she was just as greedy with her kisses as he was. When she started to grind her hips against his, he pulled away slightly, and she whimpered beneath him.

“You wanted to know what I would've done last night, right?” he asked as he kept her from pulling him back in. “Let me show you just how much I want you. Let me focus on you for a minute because I know that no one has ever appreciated you in this way before.”

He pulled the neckline of her shirt aside so he could pepper her neck and collarbones with kisses being careful not to bruise her since he wasn't sure how she'd feel about hickeys. He didn't need to mark her to know that she was his just as much as he knew that he was hers and hers alone for as long as she was willing to have him.

When he scraped along her pulse point like he had the night before, she whimpered again and gripped his hips in an attempt to guide him closer to her and create some friction to satisfy the ache that was growing between her legs.

“Not yet,” he said, resisting her pull.

“Mean.”

“I'm mean?” he asked before leaning in to kiss her neck again. “You think this is mean?”

“Mean,” she repeated as she tried to pull him closer again.

“I could be worse,” he told her as he played with the hem of her shirt. He slipped his hand underneath, and this time, she didn't pull away as his palm glided up the expanse of her stomach. She arched her back into his touch, but he pushed her back into the pillows again as he explored her body. When he made it to her breasts, he moved to kiss her lips again, and he felt her breath catch in her throat as his thumb brushed against her nipple.

“It won't be for your first time.” As he spoke, he broke up his sentences with more kisses and lingering touches as he catalogued the way she reacted to each little touch. “If I'm lucky enough to be the first person who you give yourself to - God, I'd worship you. Do whatever it takes to make sure that it's enjoyable for you and only care about your pleasure. Prove to you that you deserve to put yourself and your needs first.

“But I can be mean, too. Once you know what it means to feel that good, I'll bring you right to the brink only to stop what I'm doing without ever letting you feel that release. I'll use my hands and my mouth to take you there again and again and again, and only when you can't take it anymore and you're begging me to finish will I finally let you tip over the edge.”

He punctuated his last statement by pinching her nipple, and it took everything in him not to come apart himself when she moaned into his mouth. He gave her what she wanted after that and moved his thigh between her legs to offer her that friction she so desperately desired, and she rewarded him by pulling him even closer for another kiss where she was tugging on his hair and biting at his lower lip.

She had never wanted someone so badly before. Not even when she was alone in her bedroom at night, certain that everyone else in the house was asleep and letting her hands wander did she ever think being with another person could feel this good. This satisfying. It would have been so easy for her to tell him to keep going and lose herself completely, but she just wasn't ready for that yet.

So, when it got to the point where what they were doing wasn't enough anymore, she gave him one last kiss before pulling away. He stopped what he was doing, but he didn't let go of her. He just held her in his arms as she pressed her forehead against his and tried to catch her breath.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She nodded.

“I think I need to be done now though.”

“Whatever you need.”

She hadn't noticed it in the heat of things, but now that she was coming down from that high, she was painfully aware of Steve's erection pressing up against her thigh.

“If you need to go take care of that, you can,” she told him.

“Are you sure?”

“As much as I enjoy you holding me like this, I'll never be able to calm down with you this close to me, and we'll both be a lot more comfortable when you come back.”

Steve kissed her one last time before detangling his body from hers and going to lock himself in the bathroom. As soon as she was alone, she grabbed her phone and opened her camera in selfie mode so she could examine herself. Her hair was mussed and splayed out on the pillows beneath her, and her lips were a little swollen from all the kissing. She looked positively blissed out, and anyone who saw her could probably guess what she'd been up to. In any other situation, she would have been sent into a panic at the idea of looking like that on camera, but she didn't feel that way now. She almost thought that she looked beautiful, so she took a selfie as a reminder to hold onto that feeling. And, as she looked at that picture, she thought that maybe Steve would like to see it, too. She texted it to him before she could talk herself out of it. Bravery looked good on her.

#cheerscoops #harringham #stissy #steve x chrissy #chrissy x steve #steve harrington x chrissy cunningham #chrissy cunningham x steve harrington #my writing #wyptif #steve harrington #chrissy cunningham

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