#THEIR HAIR? AND SMILE? AND THE SHEER INNOCENCE THAT RADIATES FROM THIS PICTURE???? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

oneforthemunny · 2 years ago

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funny bunny |older!dilf!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: a halloween couples costume that's inspired by yours and eddie's relationship, and his special nickname for you.

@eddiemunsons-missingnipple big creds for the older!eddie pic used in the header!!!!

contains: age gap relationship. eddie is 43, reader is 26. everything is consensual. language, drinking, filthy filth ahead MINORS DNI 18+, oral fem receiving v and a, ass play, plugs, fingering v and a, praise kink, p in v sex, creampie. role-play-ish. not really rough mainly just kinky freaky but some aftercare after.

"You look so good!"

You squealed from your place at your vanity, pulling the hot rollers out of your hair.

Eddie pouted slightly, brows creased in a deep furrow on his forehead. Looking down at the Burgundy, velvet robe with black trim, he let out a small huff. "I look ridiculous." He muttered.

"No, you don't." You giggled, running your hands over the silk trim, fixing the collar. "This looks so good. I can't believe how close it looks to the real thing." You grinned, eyes gleaming when you looked up at him. "You look just like Hefner."

Eddie scoffed, shaking his head slowly so his curls bobbed, inked hand rubbing across his beard. "I think that might be more insulting than you mean it to be, bunny." He grumbled, plopping on the edge of the bed. "I'm not that old."

You laughed, sitting in his lap, arms around his neck with a wide smile. Eddie couldn't help but smile back. How could he not? With how your warmth just radiated out of you and into him. Infectious happiness.

"I meant the robe." You reassured, running a hand down his chest. "We're going to look so good tonight. Steve and Nancy aren't gonna know what hit them!" You squealed, smacking your lips to his cheek in a quick, loud kiss before scampering back over to the vanity.

Eddie groaned. It had taken you weeks of convincing for him to agree to this costume. Hugh Hefner and a Playboy Bunny; a classic- well, maybe more for frat boys, but when the idea came to you, you just had to do it. A light jest to the clear age difference in your relationship, a way to poke fun at the obvious, but also a nod towards your beloved nickname Eddie had given you: bunny.

A sweet, innocent little nickname, that had been given to you at a completely un-innocent moment, and it had stuck. You were Eddie's little bunny, his golden girl. His.

"Will you promise you won't post any pictures tonight?" Eddie asked for the tenth time that night. "I don't need Brielle seeing that shit or- fuck- or Gina. She'll probably take me back to court."

You nodded. "Eddie, I promise, baby, I won't post anything. I don't need to get fired over a Halloween costume. You know how those parents are." You teased, looking at him through the mirror. "And I highly doubt you'll be deemed an unfit parent for a Hefner costume."

Eddie nodded, looking down at his watch. "You almost ready? We're supposed to be there at seven."

You sprayed the final spritz of hairspray around yourself, smoothing and setting your styled hair. "I just gotta get dressed." You grinned, slipping towards the bathroom, throwing him a playful wink. "I'll be right back, Mr. Hefner." You dropped your voice to a sultry, low voice, batting your eyes before shutting the door.

Keeping your costume a secret for as long as you did was the hardest part. Eddie had agreed, eventually, but only with some persuasion, bribery. He had been dying to see your costume since you first announced it had come in. While his costume was nice, very close to the replica robe that the Playboy founder always wore with a matching pipe, it was nothing compared to yours.

Black nylon tights that were just sheer enough. Black pumps that Eddie loved on you anyways, he loved how they made your legs look- long and endless, his hands always trailing up your calf, squeezing your ankle. The corset, body suit was risqué. High cut and covering just enough of your ass that it could pass as barely not lingerie. Strapless and low in the front, tight enough to hold your breasts up in just the right way. You'd ordered white cuffs and a bowtie cuff choker to really complete the look, the authentic Playboy Bunny look.

Then of course, what kind of bunny would you be without ears and a tail? Black, silk ears that stood tall and slightly crooked on the headband, adjusted so it bent just barely. The tail, a black, faux-fur attachment you pinned just on your tailbone.

Your heart thumped rapidly in your chest, smoothing your clammy hands over your bodice. You had been so excited to show Eddie just moments ago, but now... you wondered if it was too much. If he'd like it. If he'd yell at you, accuse you of wanting unwarranted attention that wasn't his, demand for you to change, tell you that you're embarrassing him like your boyfriends in the past did.

"You need any help in there?" Eddie's voice called from outside the door, making you jump slightly, ears falling forward gently.

"No! Just finishing up." You grabbed the hair pin, securing the ears back into place.

You checked your reflection one last time. Hands smoothing down the corset, turning in the mirror to make sure your attached tail was in the right place. Your heels clicked across the tile floors of the bathroom.

"Close your eyes." You called, barely cracking the door before you walked out. Eddie chuckled lightly and you could hear the bed creak, shifting his weight on the mattress. "Are they closed?" You asked, squinting out the small sliver through the door.

"They're closed, baby." Eddie reassured, his voice low and gravely. It made your stomach flip. "C'mon, show me Playmate."

Pulling the door open slowly, the hinges creaking ever so lightly, you stepped on to the shag carpet, steps muted by the material. You walked slowly, hands twisting and wringing in front of you before stopping in front of Eddie. You knew by the way his smile grew, dimples deep in his scruff and lines by his eyes crinkling, that he could feel your presence.

"Ok, open them." You smiled, placing your hands on your hips playfully.

Eddie's eyes opened, brows raising in amusement. "Oh-oh-oh, bunny." He laughed, moving closer, his hands reaching out for yours. You blushed under his gaze, how he roamed over your legs, tongue poking his cheek in a sideways smirk. Eddie looked at the cuffs, took extra time looking at your bodice and collar, calloused hands gliding over you.

"You've outdone yourself." Eddie smirked, looking up at you from his place on the edge of the bed. "Definitely getting the front page."

"You didn't even see my tail." You grinned, spinning and shaking your hips towards him, the attached tail bouncing with the movement.

Eddie groaned, low and deep, but playful. "Jesus, baby bunny, you're killing me. You know that?" He smacked your ass playfully, right beneath the tail, making you squeal. "I don't know if I'm gonna make it to the party with you looking like this."

"We have to go, Eddie." You pouted. "Or else no one will see our costumes, and I worked so hard on them."

Eddie rolled his eyes, but stood, his hands still not leaving your waist. "I'd be alright with that." He laughed. "You could get me out of this robe and show me why you're called bunny, hm? Ride me all night, how's that sound?" Eddie nipped, tongue tickling the shell of your ear making you squeal and squirm against his hot breath.

You let out a nasally laugh when he squeezed your waist, hands gliding over your hips and tummy on the corset. He kissed right above your collar on your neck. "Eddie," You whined, thighs clamping. "Stop, we've got to go."

Eddie sighed, gently but not angry. He looked at your with soft brown eyes that had you melting. "I promise, when we get back I'll put on my real costume for you." You bit your lips, eyes meeting his, playful and alluring.

Eddie's brow quipped. "This isn't your costume?" He asked, hands trailing down your waist.

You shook your head, ears bouncing. "It's one of them, but I have a special costume just for you, Mr. Hefner." You purred, leaning forward so your lips barely brushed his. Eddie growled, tattooed fingers gripping your hips, digging into the nylons.

"But," You pushed back on his chest lightly. "We have to do this first." You lifted a finger towards him. Eddie groaned, head falling back. "Put your hat on Hef, we're late." You grinned, tossing him the captain's hat and slipping on your coat.

***

"Woah-ho-ho," Steve Harrington cackled, leaning in the doorway of his Hawkins McMansion. His amber eyes were wide, amused. "No fuckin' way. Hef and a Bunny?" He laughed, clapping his hands together.

You grinned proudly, arm lacing with Eddie's as you adjusted his hat, straightening it on top of his curls. "His favorite Playmate." You winked, giggling when Eddie's hand squeezed your ass.

"That's a fuckin' classic, holy shit." Steve laughed, shutting the door as the two of you walked in. "Nance, look at this!" He called into the living room where the party rage- well, as raging as a middle aged Halloween party could be. King Steve still did his best, even without the keg, you'd give him that.

Nancy gasped, Robin trailing behind her. "Oh my God, this is fuckin' amazing!" Robin laughed.

"How did you even think of this?" Nancy laughed, looking at the two of you, touching your cuffs on your arms.

You shrugged, biting back a smile when your eyes met Eddie's. "I dunno, just seemed kind of fitting." You laughed. "Brielle and I were actually watching House Bunny and it hie me, honestly."

Nancy laughed, shaking her curls that were piled high and teased. "That's genius, honestly. Way better than the Top Gun idea." Nancy rolled her eyes, glaring lightly at Steve, or Maverick, as he was supposed to be.

Nancy and Robin pulled you into the living room, offering to get you a drink while you chatted. Steve smirked, clapping Eddie playfully on the back. "Munson," He laughed, shaking his head.

Eddie grinned, shrugging as he watched you walk away, little fur tail bobbing with every swing of your ass. Steve snorted. "Hey, you think you can talk to your girl? See if she could convince Nancy to wear something like that for next year?" Eddie laughed, rolling his eyes, following you into the living room.

***

You were tipsy, but not drunk. You'd controlled yourself, despite the flowing drinks that Nancy kept offering you. You had a promise to keep.

You sat on the bench in Eddie's truck, hands in his, thighs touching, sharing small kisses at red lights. His hand cupped your thigh, thumb rubbing small circles on the nylon.

Every passing red light, his grip got tighter on the wheel as they inched closer and closer back to home. If your current costume was any indicator of what was to come, Eddie couldn't wait. He pressed the gas further, fake pipe lying next to his cigarettes in the cup holder, captain's hat resting on the dash.

Eddie threw the gear into park, the truck stopping with a jostle that had you giggling, his hands rough and pressed against your cheeks, pulling you into a harsh kiss. You could taste the beer he'd drank on his tongue, roaming in your mouth, hands moving down your jaw to your collar.

You giggled when Eddie pulled you inside, pinning you up against the door, hands in a tight grip on your waist, his lips on your jaw, kissing just below your ear.

"Wait, wait, wait!" You squealed, eyes rolling back when he sucked on your neck. "Wait! I have to change, Eddie. I have another costume." You giggled, pulling back, your head resting against the cool wood of the door.

Eddie's shoulders fell slightly. "Bunny, this costume is more than enough." He pouted. "I've been ready to fuck you all night."

You rolled your eyes, stepping out of his grasp. "Just wait right here." You scampered down the hall towards his room. "I promise it'll be worth the wait."

And, oh, was it.

Eddie waited for twenty agonizing minutes, hearing thumps and movement from behind the closed door of his bedroom. His leg bounced, hands pressed together. He'd ditched his clothes, well, except for the robe. It was comfy, and if you were going to stay dressed up, he figured he would too.

You beckoned Eddie in, squirming with excitement, kneeling on the edge of the bed. Eddie laughed when he walked in, eyes lit up and excited. "Shit..." Eddie's eyes roamed over your frame, your sheepish smile.

You knelt, waiting in what Eddie thought was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. Black lace lingerie that left you exposed, completely see through and vulnerable. He could see your pebbled nipples through the cups, your exposed slit through the cut middle between your legs. The back was low on your spine, but high cup on the side, resting just above your hips. The best part- the slit went all the way up to your tail bone, leaving you completely exposed.

You finished off the look with two accessories just for him. A pair of matching lace ears, flimsier than the ones of the other costume, but complete with a small veil that covered your eyes, hitting the bridge of your nose. You'd tied your hair up, securing the ribbon underneath the ponytail.

Eddie's eyes traveled down next to you, where you giggled in excitement. Laying on the towel beside you, his real treat. A little tube of lee from his bedside drawer, and a fluffy, black tail attached to a plug- your bunny tail to complete the look.

You knew better than to put it in yourself and deprive him of his favorite part.

Eddie's tongue trailed over his bottom lip, picking up the shiny plug, rolling the cool metal around his fingers. You grinned, excitedly. "What do you think, Mr. Hefner?" You teased, cocking your head to the side. "Think I'll make Playmate of the month? Cover?"

Eddie laughed, deep and dark. "Oh, bunny," He brought the fur part to your now exposed neck, ticking over your collarbones so you shivered. "I think you're close, but you gotta show me you really want it." His eyes darkened, making you blush under his gaze.

"You ready to show me?" Eddie asked. Your head bobbed eagerly, obediently.

Eddie smirked. "That's my girl. Roll over for me, baby. All fours. Stick that pretty little ass up for me."

You shifted quickly, arching deep and low, pressing your hips up and your shoulders flat against the mattress. You could hear Eddie behind you, rummaging through his drawer.

"Gotta find my fuckin' camera, holy shit." Eddie muttered, pushing his socks and belts around in the drawer. "Gotta capture this, bunny. Can't believe you did this for me. All for me, huh?"

Your thighs clenched together, throbbing at the praise. Eyes pinched and you were sure he could see your slick already spreading, the cool air making goosebumps trail down your shoulders and spine.

Eddie pressed the film in, the whirl of the Polaroid starting up. He moved to the front, kneeling on the bed, camera pointed at you. "Look at me, bunny." You lifted your eyes, rounded and awaiting for him. The flash of the camera blinded you for a moment, making you blink under the lace mask over your eyes.

Eddie chuckled to himself, shaking the photo a few times before setting the camera back on his nightstand. "'M keepin' that for fuckin' ever." He groaned, hands trailing over your thighs and hips. "Gettin' that shit tattooed on me right now."

You giggled, arching into his touch on your ass. His hand trailed down your thighs and towards your aching center, gasping when he slid his pointer finger through your slick folds. Eddie hummed, pressing his face forward, licking a long stripe from your clit to your ass, collecting every drop of you and his tongue prodding your tightest hole.

You gasped, low and growling, clenching around nothing, head tilting back. You fisted the sheets, pushing your hips back even further when his touch returned to your aching clit, circling it with just the right pressure and speed that had your head spinning.

Eddie toyed with you, kneeling down with a groan, knees cracking so he was eye level with your sopping cunt. He pushed his fingers in, two pumping slowly. His other hand pulled your ass apart, tongue lapping and sucking at your clit.

You whined, legs trembling and clenching as he sucked and curled at just the right pace. He always had you coming undone so easily when he wanted, like he knew exactly what to do to make you wild. He did, clearly, playing your body perfectly like it was his guitar.

Your high pitched whiny cries floated towards the ceiling, head tilted back so far you were sure you'd just bend in half. Eddie's free hand caught your release on his fingers, spreading them over your ass hole, circling it gently before barely pushing the tip of his finger in.

You two had plenty of experience with ass play since the first drunken night, a favorable past time for the tow of you. Eddie had bought you toys, trained you up until you could finally take his cock. You loved how good he was at it, too good. You weren't exactly sure how someone could be so good at everything, and when you told Eddie that he laughed, telling you, "been around the sun a few more times than you, baby, I've got some more experience than others."

Your eyes pinched, falling face first into the duvet. The lace of the mask over your eyes rubbed against your lids and forehead when you pressed yourself against the bed, writhing and crying out when he pushed you over the edge again. The sensation of his fingers and tongue on both your holes mixed with your previous orgasm had you cumming quick, gushing around him.

Eddie grinned, standing with a low huff. Your knees were falling underneath you, leaving you spread, nearly rubbing against the duvet. "You ready for your tail, lil bunny?" Eddie asked, popping the top to the tube open. The plug looked small enough he could probably have you stretched out with just two fingers to the knuckle and the lube.

You sighed, whining slightly as you shifted, wiggling your still shaky legs back up into position, Eddie's hand on your waist guiding you back up gently. He ran a hand down back gently, pressing a kiss to space of your spine where the lace of the lingerie and exposed skin met.

Eddie squirted the cold lube making you clench. He cooed softly, trailing kisses down the dip of your spine over your hips, finger circling your tight hole. "You gotta relax, remember?" Eddie cooed when you clenched, pressing a kiss to your hips, his scruff tickling the delicate skin. "You need me to loosen you up a little more?"

You shook your head, dazed and hazy, pushing up on your forearms gently, looking back at him. "'M ready, I promise. 'M ok." You muttered, giving him a small smile.

Eddie returned it, leaning forward to kiss you, hard and deep, teeth clashing. "Fuck, bunny, you're too good to me." He muttered, lips still brushing yours, rubbing his nose to yours.

You looked at him, glassy eyed and dazed already even through the veil he could tell that, lowering your back so your ass arched farther, pressing your face to the side of the mattress. You watched him through the vanity mirror, the low lights of the room illuminating his figure.

Eddie pushed his first finger in, slow and gentle, circling you just expertly to get you ready. You moaned, clenching your legs when you throbbed. Eddie grinned watching you grind down, slowly wiggling back for more before he added the second, getting you nice and loose.

Eddie leaned forward, muttering in your ear little praises while he pushed in the plug, his lips against your lace covered temple. Eddie looked back when you shifted, the little puff of fur plugged in you making the cutest little tail.

"Look at you," Eddie cooed, laughing to himself, he kissed you deeply, wiping his hand on the towel you laid out. "God, baby, stay right there, ok? Arched just like that."

Eddie grabbed his camera, the flash going off rapidly. Eddie was making sure his spank bank would be full for a long time, drooling over you. He tossed his camera carefully, before climbing on top of you.

You twisted, his lips crashing and needy into you, grinding yourself down on his bare, inked leg when he wedged it between you, hands moving down to his boxers. You could feel his cock straining against his black briefs, hard and begging to be released to you.

Eddie moaned onto your mouth when you squeezed him through his underwear, your tiny hands expertly rolling and working him through the fabric. You could feel his pre-cum seeping through the material, leaving a wet patch.

Eddie's hands moved up to your tits, palming them through the material, squeezing and rolling your nipples. You whined, grinding down further on his leg. "Fuck, bunny, I gotta get this off you." Eddie muttered, pushing the straps down to your waist, leaving your top part exposed.

He kissed, sucked, bit all the way down, leaving trails of little bruises and red marks onto your skin. Your neck, collarbones, chest, breasts, tummy. He wanted to kiss every inch of you after you'd done all of this for him.

You whined when he turned you over, hovering so you were on your back, the tail of the plug shifting and moving with the duvet. Eddie pulled you carefully by your waist, brows furrowed slightly. "Here, let me help you out of this alright? I'll be careful."

And he was. So caring and gentle, pulling the straps of the lace down your body, until it was a puddle on the ground. You told him he didn't have to be so careful, but your heart was swelling at the gesture, how sweet he always was to you.

You went to move the ears off, but Eddie stopped you, running a hand down the nape of your neck. "Leave that on, please." He asked, eyes dark and lust blown. You just nodded, mouth salivating when he pulled his boxers down, throwing them next to your lingerie.

He pumped himself, pushing himself to the headboard, leaning lazily against it, lip tucked beneath his teeth. You blushed, squirming under his hungry gaze, slick and throbbing, nails digging into your palms as you shifted from foot to foot.

Eddie grinned. "You gonna show me why you're my bunny, aren't ya?" He asked, cocking a brow. You nodded. Eddie moved his hands, cock freeing from his grasp and lying against his tummy.

You grinned when you climbed on top of him, straddling him gently. "You wanna see my tail while I ride you?" You asked, loving the way his Adam's apple bobbed when you did.

"Fuck, please," Eddie groaned watching you shift, moving so you wiggled your ass in his face, squealing when he cracked a hand down on your cheeks.

"You better ride me good, lil bunny." Eddie warned, gripping your hips. "You want the front page, you better show me how badly you want it."

You giggled, looking over your shoulder, pumping his cock in your hands. "I will, Hef, I promise." You sunk onto him slowly, squeezing his dick the whole way down.

Eddie groaned loudly, grip on your hips tightening when you ground against the hair on his base. "Fuck, fuck, just like that." Eddie groaned when you started circling slowly. You always started slowly like this, working him up before you really rode him.

Then you lifted slowly as you bent forward, gripping Eddie's knees lightly when you lifted off of him, bringing your hips up and down over and over again.

"Fuck bunny, just like that, bounce on my cock, baby. You're just so good aren't you?" Eddie sucked in a breath, hands pulling your cheeks apart so he could get deeper.

The scene in front of him was too much, he was ready to bust already. Your little plug, bouncing and moving, tickling his pelvis with extra deep strokes. Your creamy spend smearing over his cock already, excess from the lube mixing with your slick pussy making the room fill with the squelching sounds.

You could feel his hips meeting yours, squeezing your ass, stroking your tail and moving it so you'd moan deep. You dipped lower, nearly lying between his legs, crouching so you lifted quickly and deeply.

"Fuck, look at you go." Eddie laughed in between a low growl. "You are my little bunny. My perfect little bunny. You just love bouncin' all over my cock, don't you? You'd bounce for hours for me, wouldn't you?"

You whined, his words making you clamp and gush, his cock brushing the sensitive spot deep inside you with the position. "Yes." You cried out. "'M your bunny."

Eddie grit his teeth, coil in his belly getting tighter and tighter with every pump of you around him. "Fuck, bunny, wait," He huffed, chest heaving. "Turn around f'me, ok? Let me see your pretty face."

You stuttered in movements, pushing up with shaky arms, squeezing with him still inside you. You pulled off just for a moment, adjusting yourself carefully so your legs were on either side of Eddie's hips. You lined him back up inside you, sinking down much faster than you did last time.

Your nails dug into Eddie's inked chest, clawing into him when he gripped your ass, hips thrusting up to meet yours. Your mask and ears were starting to slip, you were sweaty on your hairline under the band of the material, but you didn't care. Your hips lifted, slamming back down on him, pressing into his chest with a cry.

You kept your pace, fast and quick, Eddie's hips meeting yours. "Y'a little jack rabbit for me, huh? Bounce and bounce and bounce, look at you." Eddie cooed nearly mocking through grit teeth.

You whimpered, eyes pinching together. You were so close, the coil in your belly growing and growing. "My little bunny just loves to bounce all over my cock, doesn't she? Just my cock, right?" Eddie growled. You nodded, whimpering. Your thighs burned, but the burning in your belly was worse, hungrier. You slammed faster, desperate to chase that high that you were so close to.

Eddie was close, teetering on the edge, but he wanted you to finish first, you always finished first with him. "Look at me." Eddie grit, hand finding your jaw, holding it lightly. He moved the veil up when your eyes met his, seeing your rounded, desperate eyes, glazed over and nearly teary.

"Y'gonna cum? Cum all over my cock? Yeah? Go ahead, you earned it, bunny." Eddie grunted, lifting his own hips to meet yours, punishing pace meeting yours.

You cried when his calloused thumb circled your clit, nearly falling on top of him with how your legs shook. Eddie held your hips, fucking up into you. He didn't mind the burn forming in his lower back, especially not when he emptied himself in you, warm, thick ropes spurting deep inside of you.

Your chest heaved together, his breath, your exhale, sharp and desperate. It was like you were sharing breaths with each other, and maybe you were. Sticky, sweaty skin, hot and molted together. You slid further into his lap, the top of his thighs, Eddie's hands moving to cradle you instinctively.

Your ears were around your neck, still tied but fallen to hang off your shoulder. Your plug was sticky with his cum when he pulled out, wetting the bottom of the faux fur. Your face was on his chest, his heartbeat thumping against your ear, his rough hands on your back.

Neither of you spoke for a while. Small shallowed breaths, deep sighs, little groans. You looked up at Eddie, feeling his gaze on the top of your head. His hands untied your ears, unraveling the ribbon so it fell beside you. He grinned down at you.

You blinked up at him, swirling with emotions and warmth. "Did I make the cover, Mr. Hefner?" You grinned.

Eddie snorted a laugh, stretching to grab the developed polaroids on the bed side table. "You sure did, bunny." Eddie smirked, showing a rather vulgar photo of you, arched with the plug in your ass, pussy shining from the flash, and ears high over your ass. "This right here? This one's the cover."

You laughed, pushing up on his chest, moving so you hovered over him. He looked at you, gooey and lovestruck, pushing a hair behind your ear. "Thanks f'dressing up with me." You smiled.

Eddie gawked lightly. "I think I should be thanking you." He chuckled. "Thank you for dressing up for me." You giggled, his lips capturing yours sweetly.

Eddie pulled back, nose to nose with you. You could see his wrinkles, the grey hairs in his temple and in his eyebrows. His skin showing signs of age, freckles from time in the sun. His beard was scruffy, a little longer than usual but trimmed. You ran your hand down it, trailing your thumb over his bottom lip.

"You're my best bunny, you know that?" Eddie whispered.

You pulled back, raising a brow. "Best? I better be your only bunny, Mr. Munson." You looked at him carefully.

Eddie smirked. "So I'm not Mr. Hefner anymore?" He asked playfully. You shook your head. "Good. That motherfucker wasn't nearly as lucky as I am."

You howled in laughter, blushing and rolling your eyes at the cheesy line. Eddie helped remove your plug, cleaning you up gently in the bathroom, soft kisses and little giggles echoed through the space. You pushed the top sheet off, hoisting it to the laundry room to deal with tomorrow, Eddie bringing in two spare blankets from the linen closet.

He smelled like the cigarette he'd been smoking outside, the comforting scent lulling you to sleep, while Eddie snored beside you, arms wrapped around your waist, heavy like weights on you but comforting.

2K notes · View notes

slasharchivefics · 18 days ago

Text

Holding back for more

🔞🔞⚠️fanfic slaxl

Part 4/4

Slash hesitated at first, his hand moving tentatively to his cock while still perched on Axl’s lap. The initial shyness in his movements made him seem almost innocent, but as the sensations built, he couldn’t help the soft moans escaping his lips. The way Axl’s piercing green eyes stayed fixed on him—intense, unyielding—made Slash feel completely exposed. Yet, that vulnerability only amplified the pleasure, setting every nerve alight.

Feeling the weight of Axl’s gaze, Slash’s body responded instinctively. His strokes grew bolder, his confidence surging as his breathing turned shallow. His head tilted back slightly, curls spilling over his shoulders, as a deep, aching pleasure began to build within him. The closeness of their bodies—the way Axl’s strong hands rested possessively on his thighs—made the moment unbearably intimate, the tension between them electrifying.

“Show me your face,” Axl commanded, his voice low and rough, thick with desire.

Slash’s eyes fluttered open briefly, meeting Axl’s gaze, but the intensity was too much. He let them close again, surrendering to the heat of the moment. His lips parted, releasing quiet, unrestrained moans, his face a picture of raw vulnerability. The sight made something shift inside Axl, a deep, visceral pull that he hadn’t expected. Slash looked so undone, so beautiful, that it pushed Axl to the edge.

Even without touching himself, Axl felt the tension in his body coil tighter and tighter, the burn of desire consuming him. Every sound, every movement from Slash sent him spiraling further, until he couldn’t hold back anymore. With a guttural groan, Axl came, his release crashing over him like a tidal wave, leaving him breathless. The sheer intensity of it left him momentarily stunned, a rare moment of complete surrender.

Slash, lost in his own rising pleasure, gasped sharply as his body reached its peak. His orgasm tore through him, leaving him trembling in Axl’s lap. His release spilled onto Axl’s torso, the warmth of it mingling with the heat radiating between them.

For a moment, neither of them moved, their heavy breaths filling the charged air. Then, as if pulled by an invisible force, Axl reached for Slash. His hand cupped Slash’s face with surprising gentleness, and he pulled him into a kiss.

Their lips met softly at first, hesitant, as though testing the waters of this new, uncharted territory. But the kiss quickly deepened. Axl’s lips moved against Slash’s with slow, deliberate intent, tasting the remnants of their shared passion. His hands held Slash’s face in place, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones as the kiss grew hotter. Slash responded just as fervently, his fingers threading through Axl’s hair and pulling him closer.

The kiss was messy, desperate, but layered with emotion—a perfect mix of love and lust. It felt like a collision of their fiery spirits, an acknowledgment of everything unsaid between them.

Finally, they broke apart, foreheads pressing together as they struggled to catch their breath. The silence between them wasn’t awkward but heavy with meaning, their hearts pounding in sync.

“How was it?” Slash asked softly, his voice barely audible, still caught in the aftershocks of what they’d shared.

Axl didn’t respond immediately. His chest heaved, his breathing uneven, as though he was still processing everything. Then, a crooked smile spread across his lips, and he let out a short laugh, rough and full of satisfaction.

“...Fucking amazing,” he finally said.

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So it is slash’s turn next !!🤗

#slaxl #80s #fanfic #guns n roses #slash gnr #slash fic #axl rose #rockstar

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eivorsjawline · 4 years ago

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18+ Modern F!Eivor x F!Reader

Content warning: mention of food, alcohol, smut, foul language, strap on, degradation, oral, fingering, cunnilingus, choking, and restraining...

Summary: I needed some more strap Eivor, so here It goes. A well-established reader and Eivor bond over a glass of champagne until Eivor starts putting moves on the reader, leading to a hot and heavy night together.

Eivor cleaned up nicely, a white collared dress shirt and sleek black pants. A dark skinny tie hanging from her neck and a pair of Christian Louboutin flats to top it all off. The gold Rolex she always wore on her wrist shined in the light when she pressed the penthouse button on the elevator. The fabric divinely brushed her body, gripping onto her biceps, and her pants though loose hugged her toned ass and thighs. The elevator opened and Eivor clasped onto your hand, letting you step out first. The tall Norwegian blonde hovered over you, a silly smirk on her face. Though the situation was an innocent one, all you could think of was Eivor bending you over a table.

You just returned from going out to dinner, a date night. The both of you had missed one another dearly, for Eivor had been gone so long due to work. Though the time you missed with one another created hard times, it was always worth it in the end. The both of you were established adults who found sanctuary in each other. You had been dating for a while now and things were starting to get serious. The love between you two only grew with time, a big part of Eivor knew that you were the one she wanted to spend her life with. You could still remember how intimidated you were by the older woman at first, Eivor was in her mid-thirties at this point. She had shown you so much and taught you a lot about the world.

Upon entering, you saw the usual view of the large buildings and lights through the large window. However, when you looked to your right you were shocked to see an array of gifts and pictures set out on a table for you. A bouquet of red roses, a bottle of the finest champagne and chocolate delicacies laid out as well. You opened the card Eivor put with the roses and read the sweet words congratulating your anniversary. A huge smile formed on your face, teeth and all. Eivor wrapped her arms around your waist from behind, the sight of seeing you happy caused her to grin. Being in the middle of a pandemic was tough. Eivor was upset that more couldn’t be done with the love of her life. Albeit, you were happy and pleased with even the smallest of gestures from her.

“Happy anniversary, my love. Wouldn’t wanna spend this last year with anyone else.”

You thanked her before turning around and giving her a passionate kiss. The scent of her musky cologne radiated from her chest until she pulled away to pour two glasses of champagne. You both took off your shoes and laid down on the bed, your glasses clinking cheers. The warm embrace of Eivor greeted the back of your body as she embraced you in her arms, fingers trickling the skin of your left shoulder before she started to pull the strap of your black dress down. Her lips met your neck, causing your eyes to close as you succumbed to her touch. Her eyes kept wandering to the large mirror across from the bed, you knew exactly what was on her mind.

“I was gone so long on that business trip, yearning for you so badly. All alone, only my wet dreams occupied me.”

She started to massage your breast over the fabric, the touch causing your peaks to harden. Her hands slipped down to your cleavage, her fingers playing in circles around your bare nipple. You pushed your hair to the side for her to place kisses down the back of your neck, your bodies readjusting to take one another’s clothes off. She pulled the slip dress over your body with ease, leaving you in your lace lingeries you wore specifically for tonight. Eivor lifted her head for you to undo her tie, along with her shirt shortly after. It had been so long since you both last saw each other, everything became a blur. The thin line between love and lust started to fade, pure sin erupted between you two.

Eivor’s body looked beautiful in the candlelit room, her soft but deep moans began to grow heavier once you placed kisses from her chest to her lower stomach. She stood up from the bed as you pulled down her pants and underneath, your soft touches on her thighs making her body squirm with eagerness. You teased her slowly, not yet giving her what she wanted. Her hands wandered downwards, gently grabbing a fist full of your hair while she tried to move her lower half towards your mouth. You ran your mouth over the skin on her thighs, just over her lips. Eivor’s frustration grew visibly stronger, until she pulled you up towards her, pulling your head back and making you look her directly in the eye.

“Always a fucking tease, don’t think for a moment I will go easy on you when It’s your turn.”

Her grip on you tightened until finally, your lips traced the outline of the front of her body and straight down to her dripping wet cunt. You looked her deeply in the eyes as your tongue started to lick her folds, hands grabbing onto the back of her thighs for support. She let out a moan once your tongue met her throbbing clit, caressing and flicking the spot just how she liked. Starting slow then fast, Eivor’s moans grew louder and heavier as her eyes closed with pleasure. You remained there licking and sucking up the juices that exuded from her, enjoying and savoring every moment of it. Your fingers ran over the entrance of her, teasing back and forth. She started to grind on your mouth, the patience left in her body thinning.

Tender kisses were placed on her chest, your tongue began to tease her nipples. Her breasts were dainty, sturdy but soft. Your head directed upwards to kiss her on the mouth as she ran her tongue over the bottom of your lip as if greeting yours. Tongues began to clash, playing with one another and her arms exploring your body lower. Her rough hands held onto your hips, soon enough tracing upwards on your back till a hand reached the back of your neck. The smell of her breath was mixed with a perfect blend of the champagne and the mints she would always pop in. The wet slip and slide of both of your tongues caused the warm feeling deep inside of you to grow.

“Fuck, Y/n I need to feel you inside of me. Don’t make me beg.”

You knew how long she had waited for this moment, and you could feel how completely drenched she had become. You liked how badly she desired you, you lived for the sheer fact. Just as she was about to get even bossier with you, her eyes opened wide with frustration, you sank two fingers into her canal. Her eyes closed quickly and she threw her head back, spreading her legs wide for you to work into her. Slowly waving your fingers in her, from the top to the knuckles while your tongue started to flick her clit faster. Watching you bury your face in her and fuck her made Eivor lose all control. The muscles of her walls gripped onto your fingers as she started to climax. There was no holding back the hot cum that now coated your fingers, you slowed down and placed kisses on the sides of her pelvis.

“Let me taste myself on your tongue, my little toy.”

The tone in her voice was breathy and hot, she meant business tonight. Your upper bodies met one another yet again and her fingers opened up your mouth causing your jaw to unhinge for her. Her piercing deep blue eyes looked into yours directly, her other hand gripped your neck and she spit into your mouth before locking tongues with you. With the flavor of your tongues and her cum blending lasciviously, you were completely soaked at this point. The more she kissed you, the less you could control your moans. Her hand slipped under your underwear and cupped the filthy wet spot underneath, she licked her lips as if pleased with how soaked she made you. The hefty woman lifted herself on top of you and the weight of her strong body dropped on top of you. Her tongue caressed your earlobes and eventually sucked onto the upper cartilage, making you shiver underneath her.

She undid the clasp in the front of your bra with ease and expertise. Her hands ran up the curves of your torso, making you arch your back. She ran her tongue up the middle of your ribcage until her mouth met one of your hard nipples. You watched as she played with your breasts and her eyes that admired them, the look filled with lust. Her tongue danced in circles and her teeth grazed your peak, whatever morals you had left completely washed away. Though your eyes closed, Eivor’s were wide open and watching your facial expressions in the mirror across from you. absolutely mesmerized by the way she could please you even though she had barely started.

“You want me to fuck your little pussy, don't you?”

You moaned and let out a simple, “Yes, please.” and made sure to say her name along with it, for it was her favorite one to hear come from your lips. The intensity in her eyes grew and her words sent chills down your spine. There was nothing more that you could ever want at the moment as she ventured downwards, her head now rightfully in between your thighs. Eivor grabbed the bends in the back of your knees and pushed your legs back before running her tongue up and down your folds. You couldn’t help but to throw your head back and moan from the relief of her touching the area you so desire with her warm tongue. The sight of you losing control of yourself from her talents only turned Eivor on more. Her attention shifted to your clit, sloppily dragging the muscle in her mouth across your sweet spot while she watched you squirm.

The pace started to pick up slowly, which caused you to yearn for more. Oh, how you missed those magic fingers of hers. With the godly length and width of them, your mind began to fill up with imaginative thoughts of them inside you. Eivor was still making tides on your clit with her tongue and enjoying every moment of it. Her hands gripped the sides of your hips, devouring that spot in between your legs so well. Eivor was thorough and steady, the skilled tongue of a woman beyond your years. Your desperateness started to cloud over your patience, you had to ask her the question ringing in your mind.

“Eivor… Please I-”

You said with a soft moan, hardly able to finish the rest of the sentence due to Eivor speeding up and licking you with vigor. Before you could even ask the question on your mind, she already knew what you wanted. With her head tilted up, she grinned and slid a finger inside of you, just to tease more of what she could offer. She started with slow curls pressing up and switching to slow pumps in and out. The sight of her entering you getting her off and all control is lost. Her tongue joined in with the song her fingers played, flicking at the perfect pace and spot. Your eyes started to roll back as you were unable to contain yourself from the beautiful blonde fucking you sweetly.

“Ugh, give me more Eivor. Please!”

Before she could give you what you wanted, she had to tease you a little more. Her body leaned upwards over you, the chain she had on her neck dangling just in front of your face. When she reached a hand over your face to caress your cheek, she added in another finger. The satisfaction of the extra finger only filled you more when she sank herself in you til the knuckles. The caress on your cheek turned into her thumb and index on her free hand clasping onto your neck, choking you softly. Her fingers rammed into you with force, the muscles she built up being put to good use. The sounds of her slamming into you filled your body with ecstasy but something within you knew Eivor was yet to be finished. Eivor pulled away from you and stood up, an abrupt pause.

“Bend over for me, now. Don’t make me wait too long.”

You did exactly as she commanded, on all fours on the bed. Some shuffling could be heard around the room while you waited for her in the same vulnerable position. It wasn’t long until Eivor came back and grabbed you by your wrists, stretching them back to tie them together. The view of you on all fours and Eivor close behind you could be seen in the mirror across, the one she had been eyeing all night. Eivor tugged at your hair, pulling you up and making you face yourself before whispering in your ear.

“You’re gonna get fucked like the dirty whore you are, don’t let me catch you closing your eyes.”

The ropes around your wrist tightened but she let go of your hair. There was something so sexy in the way Eivor turned so authoritarian, your body grew desperate for her to completely have her way with you. She always loved giving you pleasure and took satisfaction in watching the way you shifted and turned in the bed. The dazed state of ecstasy you were in was interrupted when you felt the tip of her strap pry at your hole. You braced yourself as she slid into you, truly making sure not to cause you any discomfort. You gasped with each inch she sank into you, her girth leaving you filled. Eivor reached over to grab you by the hair and pull your head up, your wrists were still bound and you were hardly able to move. Your walls convulsed as Eivor was completely inside of you now, to the end of the strap. The friction of her pulling on your scalp only excited you more.

“Watch, as I fuck you.”

She demanded you, her hips beginning to make waves starting slow as she watched you in the mirror. Eivor rocked like a steady boat, moving slowly and rigorously. Sweat glimmered off of her completely exposed body, her hips slamming into you like waves in the ocean. Nothing but pure concentration showed on her face, the dedication to make you release from her. The sensations felt too good, keeping your eyes open seemed impossible. Your moans started to grow heavier as the pace picked up gradually, your eyebrows pursed together and eyes started to water already from trying to keep them open. You moaned and cursed Eivor's name, as she took pride in fucking you. Eivor watched diligently as she pleased you, examining your body like a hawk and watching closely as she slid into you over and over again. The pace started to pick up, one of her knees towering over you and bent to the side as she fucked me from behind.

Pure shock hit your body when she lifted her foot to place on top of your head, pinning you completely down. Eivor knew the power she held against you and how much you enjoyed it when she took control. She ground and bucked her hips against you, making you cry out in pleasure. Her body slapping against you and rolling with pure talent. Her words of encouragement were said softly while her breaths grew heavy from the vigor she rammed into you. The warm feeling between your thighs consumed you causing you to close your eyes and succumb to all the pleasures. You gasped when Eivor removed her heel from your head and pulled you up towards her, her arms held back your bound wrists and lifted you, your torso now higher. She peered over you, a look of disappointment on her face.

“What did I say? You like being underneath me, like the dirty little bitch you are. It’s pitiful.”

She slammed into you harder than ever, sliding in and out with ease now that you had completely coated the strap. Her hand reached over to slide her fingers into your mouth while she fucked you, rubbing on your tongue. Her hands reached back down to your shoulders, pushing into her more. The roughness of her hands around the sides of your neck just about drove you insane, she fucked you so good and she knew it. You moaned out to tell Eivor that you were about to cum, her pace grew steady and ready for you. You released on her, only a creamy white residue was left.

Eivor backed up and pulled out of you, both of you now exhausted. Your legs could hardly stop shaking and you could barely stand. Your naked bodies laid down in bed, sweaty and tired but satisfied. Eivor could switch in seconds, an angel to a demon with the way she loved. Eivor placed kisses all over your body, admiring you. She was consumed by you, making you aware of the power you held over her. Unable to move in bed, you swore you were on the verge of passing out. Eivor laid close by, her muscular back turned to you. You pushed yourself closer, up against her naked body. She always liked being the little spoon, regardless of how dominant of a person she tended to be. You pulled back the long locks of her hair, kissing her on the cheek. Eventually, you closed your eyes to drift off until you heard Eivor mumble a few words in the dead silence.

“I love you, Y/n.”

You replied, of course, you loved her too. The moment was sweet, a sudden change from moments before. Your leg clasped over her body, her hands rubbing the side of your thigh. If only moments like these could last forever by the side of your lover. The smell of sweat and sex filled the air, the perfect person warmed your bed. Only a blank dark space from your closed eyes, everything faded into darkness and all your worries washed away. Though tired at the moment, you were ready to do it all over again tomorrow. Little snores could be heard next to you, she was already out.

#fem eivor #female eivor #f!eivor #eivor x reader #eivor varinsdóttir #eivor wolfkissed #Valhalla #ac valhalla #assasins creed valhalla #fan fiction #enjoy

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nik-the-bik · 3 years ago

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Henriel Week Day 4: Fireside

“Perhaps It’s the Wine”

Summary: Jekyll is super attracted to Gabriel and Gabriel is oblivious

CW: Alcohol, sex mention, and enough sexual tension to take out a priest, but nothing that veers too NSFW.

Gotta thank @corvidayyy for the awesome prompt because I'm surprisingly proud of this one?

****

It was a bitterly windy evening in January, but the guests at Dr. Jekyll’s home were none the wiser. That night he hosted an extravagant dinner for many of his friends and colleagues, sparing no expense for the endless array of hors d’oeuvres, hearty meats, and assortment of rare wines and spirits. Most everyone left the dinner party warmed with a good meal and head fuzzy from drink. As the evening crawled on into the deepest hours of the night, all that remained in Dr. Jekyll’s parlor were himself and his two oldest friends, Dr. Lanyon and Mr. Utterson.

The three sat around a roaring fire reminiscing about their boyhood follies, having animated discussions as they corrected each other’s memories and laughed at long forgotten stories. Some of the last of the wine was passing from hand to hand as they all sank comfortably into its stupor.

Henry opened the final bottle he had bought for the occasion and poured himself and Utterson another glass as Lanyon finally rose from his chair and stretched.

“What’s the matter, Hastie? We’ve got just a bit more wine left! Surely you can stay for one more drink?” Henry asked.

“As tempting an offer as that is, I’ve had more than my fair share,” said Lanyon, straightening his appearance as he prepared to bid his goodbyes. “I feel that any more would be too dangerous—I’m not as avid a drinker as I used to be, and I’ll lose my head entirely.”

“Suit yourself,” Henry chuckled. He and Gabriel Utterson shook his hand goodnight as Lanyon made his way out the door, but not without a few more jabs at his friends. The three were left with laughter ringing in their ears as he left them, Henry and Gabriel relaxing into the plush armchairs closest to the warm fireplace.

The two sat in silence for some time, feeling quite at ease with each other. The situation was not new to either of them—many a dinner party had ended with these two being left alone at the end of the night, softly whispering philosophy with each other or simply dwelling on memories while nursing one last drink before turning in for the night. These quiet, intimate moments were perhaps the ones that Henry Jekyll looked forward to most out of these evenings. Jekyll put down his empty glass and turned himself to face his best friend.

Gabriel Utterson looked beautifully relaxed. He had sunken into his own armchair, one arm around the back while the other lazily twirled the little remaining wine in his glass. He had one leg up on the ottoman, and a rare, small smile of sheer contentment rested on his face, as his eyes hungrily watched the roaring fire before them, cheeks rosy from the wine. Jekyll was captivated – warmed both by the glow of the fire and the soft glow of hedonistic bliss radiating from this man before him, a man who had always lingered in the back of his mind as the example of moral perfection. Yes, Gabriel Utterson was beautiful, and finding him in this tiny moment of domestic pleasure, Jekyll felt that old secret yearning ignite within him once more.

His attraction to Utterson was not something Jekyll let himself dwell on frequently, but on instances where the pangs of desire struck, they often were crippling in their intensity. Tonight was no exception.

Henry suddenly regretted that he never learned to be a painter, wishing that he had the talent needed to capture Gabriel Utterson in this moment. When he felt brave enough to confess as much out loud, Utterson let out a soft chuckle, and his eyes twinkled as his smile became broader across his face.

“Whatever would you want to paint ME for?” he asked, turning his attention away from the fire for the first time, and looking directly into Jekyll’s eyes. Jekyll’s heart stopped for the briefest of moments before his insides turned to butter under Gabriel’s warm, affectionate gaze.

“Well,” Henry started, averting his own eyes as he felt the heat rise to his face. “I guess it’s because you look so…effortlessly happy. It certainly suits you.”

Gabriel laughed again, a cozy, inviting laugh. “Perhaps it’s all of the wine.”

Henry Jekyll couldn’t help but grin himself and bring his eyes back to Utterson’s. He reached for the wine bottle that they had started just before Lanyon had left them and decided to refill his glass. “It certainly is good wine,” he said, scooting his chair a bit closer to Utterson’s in order to top off his glass as well.

“It is good wine,” Utterson reaffirmed, clinking their glasses together and giving him a jovial wink. Henry Jekyll nearly choked on his own drink—why was everything that Gabriel did suddenly so captivating, so…seductive? He was grateful that Utterson had turned his attention back to the fire as he dried his lips with a handkerchief, heart beating loudly in his ears. He had been secretly attracted by Utterson plenty of times before, but somehow tonight, somehow this was more than Henry Jekyll was able to take, and perhaps most maddening of all was how the seduction seemed entirely unintentional on Gabriel’s part.

Yes, this entire evening had been near perfect. Great food, plenty of alcohol, engaging conversation—the pièce de resistance for the night would be great sex, and the primal part of Henry Jekyll was suddenly roaring for it.

Another sip of wine as he stared into the open flame of the fireplace, and suddenly his heart was braced and tongue was loosened just enough to do something a bit foolish.

“You should stay the night, Gabriel.”

“Mmm?” Gabriel lazily hummed, turning his attention back to Henry. God was he gorgeous.

“It’s so late, and the weather tonight…I would prefer to know you were here, safe.”

“Thank you, Harry, but I couldn’t possibly intrude for much longer,” Gabriel said, suddenly shifting in his seat.

Jekyll leaned forward, putting a hand on Gabriel’s knee to stop him. “But I insist! It’s no intrusion, none at all, not when I have so many empty beds—”

“I still have my carriage waiting…”

“Send them home for tonight, and tomorrow you can take mine.”

Gabriel was quiet, only just now noticing that Henry’s hand was still resting on his knee.

“Henry, it would be lovely, but I really shouldn’t stay much later, not when I have so much work waiting for me tomorrow,” he said, turning his face back to the fire.

Jekyll brought the last of his glass of wine to his lips and downed it in one swallow, setting the glass aside and leaning still closer to his companion.

“I am requesting the honor of being hospitable to my dearest friend,” Henry said, voice lilting. He decided to give him the most sultry stare that he could muster. “I do so enjoy the pleasure of your company.”

Gabriel turned his bright, beaming face back to Henry’s, a sweet, naïve giggle escaping him. “I have really enjoyed our visit too.”

Beautiful, innocent, oblivious Gabriel! He had no idea what Henry was getting at!

This wouldn’t do, this wouldn’t do at all. The primal monster inside Henry was hungry, demanding he be sated. He bit down on his lower lip as he pictured himself losing control and yanking Gabriel’s face forward into a deep, passionate kiss, arms encircling his waist, Gabriel’s fingers trailing along his spine... But no, as tempting as the fantasy was, that couldn’t happen either. Not yet.

“It would certainly break my heart to have to spend tonight alone,” Henry said, slowly moving the hand from Gabriel’s knee upwards, rubbing up and down his thigh. “If you were here, well, I could imagine we could make it worth both of our trouble…” he trailed off, delighting in the feeling of Gabriel’s warm, firm thigh in his hand, unconsciously tightening his grip, tongue just starting to touch his lip as he continued rubbing, letting his hand wander ever closer to--

Gabriel’s hand snatched Henry’s away. Henry looked up at Gabriel, who was blushing furiously.

Oh. Gabriel finally understood.

Oh God, he finally understood that Henry--!!

“We shouldn’t,” was all he said.

Henry Jekyll’s heart was racing faster than it ever had before, his face hot with shame, or was it just the fire? Why had he allowed himself to indulge in this secret want of his?

But the foolish, drunken part of Henry’s brain began to chime in. He said WE shouldn’t! Emphasis on the WE!

He didn’t seem offended or angry or ashamed, did he? Just…flustered? Could that possibly mean…?

Jekyll realized that Utterson was still holding his hand. Casting off any sense of caution, he drew Gabriel’s hand towards him, clasped in both of his, desperate to salvage the moment.

“Forgive me, Gabriel, I sometimes forget myself and…”

“It’s alright,” Gabriel said, unable to meet his eyes. His breathing seemed a bit more shallow than usual.

“I'm so sorry if I was inappropriate--I want you to know,” Henry continued, drawing Gabriel’s hand towards his own heart. “That you mean the world to me, and that I would hate to completely jeopardize—”

“It’s alright,” Gabriel insisted again. “You don’t need to apologize. You haven’t done anything.”

“I’m a weak man,” Henry said. “A slave to my most base, sensual urges, many of which, I must humbly confess, center around you.” With that, Henry drew Gabriel’s hand towards his lips, kissing it tenderly. When Gabriel didn’t pull away, Henry continued to plant kisses all over his hand, losing all sense of hesitation as he began to dip into the frenzy of his own desire.

Gabriel finally retracted his hand from Henry’s greedy lips, his whole face red. “Perhaps it’s just the wine making you feel this way,” Gabriel said, pulling his own chair a little further away from Jekyll. “I know I can definitely feel it enacting a certain…influence…”

Henry straightened himself up, running a hand through his hair as he tried to regain his composure after his brief slip into blind ecstasy. “Perhaps it is the wine,” he confessed. He grabbed the bottle, nearly empty now, and decided to pour one small, final glass for himself.

“It’s very, very good wine,” Gabriel said, offering his glass for the remainder. He had his hand half covering his face, still brilliantly pink, eyes sparkling slightly as they peered at him between his fingers.

Henry smiled as he raised a silent toast to his companion, a thrill in his heart as it foolishly began to harbor the belief that maybe, just maybe, this overwhelming desire wasn’t entirely his alone.

#henriel week 2021 #henriel #the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde #jekyll and hyde #doctor jekyll #henry jekyll #mr utterson #gabriel utterson #jekyll/utterson #jekyll and hyde fanfic #nikki tries to be a writer #this feels unbearably raunchy to my little ace self #like...hands??? on thighs??? i better call the church!#maybe it's the catholicism talking idk #also for anyone under the legal drinking age: sometimes wine makes you feel like being slutty stay safe out there

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theot5inourstars · 4 years ago

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Something At First Sight - HS

a/n: some more Harry and Aria, from when they first met. Gotta be honest, i had a lot of fun writing this lol even though i took almost two freaking months to post it rip. I dont want to post their story in chronological order, so everything Haria related can be read in any order. Happy reading, feedback welcome xx

This is mostly fluff w some ~sauciness~ ew im sorry i hate that word

word count: 3,311

***

Aria awoke to the soft October sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains, her eyes adjusting to the unfamiliar surroundings. She could just about make out the orange of the autumn leaves. It took a minute for her brain to catch up as she admired the mahogany four-poster bed, the too-floral-to-be-pretty wallpaper, and finally the floor, upon which were carelessly littered the clothes she had worn last night. And the memories from the night before came flooding back.

She glanced around the rest of the room, noticing it was empty, before her eyes landed on the other half of the bed, which was also empty, and, - as she placed her hand where he had laid not too long ago, - cold. Great she thought, he fucked your brains out and then he bolted.

She had shimmied into her jeans and was looking in the mess of sheets and duvets for her top, when the door abruptly opened, causing her to let out a little squeal in shock, as her arms rushed to cover her scantily covered chest.

She was surprised when an amused set of green eyes met her own. She took in his appearance: white t shirt and jeans from last night, but his hair was messier now, and Aria proudly took credit for that. “Leavin’ before breakfast, love?” He asked in a raspy voice that made her stomach flip. But his question brought her attention to the trolley he had since pushed into the room, two silver cloches sitting along with a fruit basket. She raised her eyebrows at him, looking unimpressed.

He coughed, ahem ahem, before dramatically removing the cloches to reveal “breakfast crêpes!” Harry had the widest cutest fucking grin on his face; Aria let up a small smile. He continued slowly, “since you said you liked crêpes, I thought I’d make them,” he shrugged casually, as if it was no big deal that he remembered the smallest detail and inevitably made her heart melt.

“You made these?” Aria asked suspiciously. Harry nodded, like an excited little child, smiling widely at her. “Gotta say, I’m impressed, Styles. Maybe I will stay for a bit,” she thought aloud, now having draped a bedsheet around herself.

“Oh you must stay,” Harry said, his voice low. “Plus your friend’s still in Niall’s room.” Aria rolled her eyes at that.

Before she could say anything else, she took two steps back in shock, as Harry took his t-shirt off. “What do you think you’re doing?” She asked defensively. He chuckled, “relax,” he said, as he handed it to her. “You can wear this, I sort of spilt coffee of yours earlier,” he said pointing to the corner where a coffee-stained once-white croptop lay drying. She rolled her eyes before slipping on his t-shirt, which was all too long, and the shoulders didn’t sit right at all, but gosh, Harry thought he had arrived in heaven.

He had obviously seen plenty of other women wearing his clothes the morning after, but there was something about Aria, something about the way she frowned slightly while trying to adjust it the tee, something about how even though her shoulders were much too narrow her chest filled the t-shirt surprisingly well, how she bit her lip subconsciously as she tucked it into her jeans.

Harry was broken out of his trace. She had said something. Fuck. Now she’s going to think he’s some sort of creep. Did she ask him a question? “Pardon,” Harry said stupidly.

“I said,” Aria began, a teasing smile playing on her lips, “it’s rude to stare.” Harry felt a slight blush creep up his neck, as he let out a laugh.

“Okay, I’m hungry, which one is mine?” Aria asked as she situated herself at the edge of the bed, legs crossed, cutlery in hand. Harry thought in that moment that even though he had known her less than twelve hours, he would love to have breakfast with her every single morning. “This one,” Harry said as he passed one of the plates to her. “It’s got spinach, ham, eggs, mozzarella and pesto,” Harry explained. Aria let out the cutest oooh as she took a bite, “and bacon!” She said happily, making Harry laugh. “And bacon.”

“What’s in yours? Sweet, I assume?” She asked, thinking back to their rather random post-coital conversation about crêpes. He nodded, “Nutella and strawberries.” Aria nodded, “I will have a bite in a bit,” she said not particularly enthusiastically. Harry chuckled again, “of course! And if you like it, I made another one for you, just in case,” he said, with a dimpled smile. That was such a sweet gesture, Aria felt her cheeks warm up and she looked away.

Harry brought his hand to her neck; she looked back at him, as she felt his thumb trace over a particularly sore spot on the column of her neck, and she realised he wasn’t looking at her but rather at her neck, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Huh,” he said softly, his thumb raising goosebumps in its wake. Aria furrowed her brows, “what?” Even though part of her knew just what.

Harry shook his head, “nothing jus’ admiring my handiwork,” and as he said that he applied the slightest pressure to the already sore spot, eliciting a surprised gasp from Aria. It had been just one night and he already knew how to press her buttons, gosh. Harry’s pupils dilated, as he felt Aria’s pulse quicken beneath his fingertips. She hated herself for letting him have this effect on her. She was otherwise frozen in her spot, but as she noticed Harry lean in, she jumped up and back, almost hitting the wall.

And she pulled out her phone. It took Harry a second before he realised she was using the front camera to look at the rather large hickey on her neck. He watched as her eyes widened, as she brought her own fingertips to the spot to examine in, wincing slightly at how sensitive it still was. He smiled, he felt so smug as he remembered just how crazy it drove her.

She shot him a look, his smirk widened. “Don’t look so smug,” she started, “you have some too.” Harry didn’t think Aria could turn him on anymore than that, but dear lord, she had. “Some? As in plural?” Harry asked in disbelief. Aria nodded, sheepishly, almost, her cheeks reddening, as Harry reached out for her phone, which she handed over, front camera still open.

He examined his own neck. He had two hickeys on the column of his neck and one right above his clavicle, and this was disregarding the ones further down his chest. His was shocked, and a little offended that he hadn’t given her as many. He glanced at Aria who was watching him closely, and as she did she bit her lip again.

“C’m’ere,” Harry said, his voice becoming deeper all of a sudden. Aria squinted at him quizzically for a second before walking to him slowly. He reached out his hand and she took it, and before she could register what was happening, he twirled her into his shirtless chest, one of his arms around the front of her body and the other still holding the phone. Aria was strong and independent and could fight, and she never felt the need to be protected. But in that moment, she felt oddly safe with Harry’s arm around her waist, as she felt his warmth radiate against her back, her heart thumping against her chest.

Aria knew Harry could feel her heartbeat quicken because of the soft “y’okay, love?”, the cheeky bastard asked, as he leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss on the column of her neck. But she could almost hear his heartbeat quicken too, and she took solace in the fact that she wasn’t the only one who was nervous by their sudden… intimacy.

“Look up for me, yeah?” Harry said, and it hadn’t been a question, as he held the phone up in front of them, above head level. From that angle all of the marks on Harry’s upper body were visible as well as the massive hickey on Aria’s neck. She felt her cheeks flush, but with embarrassment and arousal. How could any human being have this kind of effect on another just by taking a selfie? It was quite ridiculous, Aria thought.

She tried to hide her face by turning her head into his very toned chest, in doing so making the mark on her neck more visible, and not realising the camera also caught the change in tone of her face. She also obviously didn’t see Harry’s cocky smirk but she felt a soft chuckle reverberate from his chest, as he snapped another photograph of them.

Aria then turned around completely, still not looking up at Harry, “are you done with the pictures yet?”, she asked. He took a final look at the four pictures he had managed to snap, very pleased with himself, before he locked her phone. Aria gasped as she felt him slip the phone skilfully into her back pocket, without actually touching her. He then leaned down and whispered in her ear “yes, they’re for later, princess, when you’re missing me.” Cocky fucking bastard.

Aria looked up at him, finally, purposefully widening her eyes, looking all sweet and innocent, one of her hands tracing down his chest. And she tilted her head ever so slightly to the side before asking, “but what about when you’re missing me?”

Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes, and in one fell swoop had lifted Aria off of the ground, her legs almost reflexively wrapped around his torso, as he pressed her against the wall behind them. He could tell Aria hadn’t expected that, not only by her slight gasp, but also the look of surprise on her face, or rather that of utter shock.

Harry’s eyes barely had any hints of green as he looked at her. “Careful now,” he said, his voice an octave deeper than he had been a minute ago, as he pressed slow painful kisses to her neck. Aria pursed her lips fighting not to make a sound; she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. But in doing so her legs around his waist tightened, which lead to Harry letting out a soft growl against her skin. “You’re gonna be the death of me, princess,” Harry said, barely above a whisper, before he lifted his head up.

He looked at her for a second, both of their chests heaving slightly before he finally pressed his lips to hers. It started off slow and soft, Harry being the fucking tease he is, but soon morphed into tongues and teeth clashing, and Harry began walking them over to the unmade bed, Aria still wrapped around him, breakfast long forgotten. Harry lowered them into the mess of duvets, Aria’s legs still around his torso, her hands in his already unruly hair, as he carefully hovered over her.

“You okay to go on?” Harry asked, pulling away, his eyes piercing into Aria’s. She nodded. He was about to reprimand her for not using her words, but she remembered the warnings from the night before, “yes,” she said, a little breathless, as she pulled his lips back onto hers.

Harry’s fingers reached the waistband of Aria’s jeans where they felt the edge of his white cotton t shirt, but before he could take them off, an obnoxious buzzing sound broke their trance.

It was Aria’s alarm. She pulled out her phone from her back pocket where Harry had so delicately placed it, and snoozing it, as she looked carefully at it, her brows furrowing in concentration as Harry hovered over her.

She looked up at him, an almost guilty look in her eyes, and his face fell knowing what it meant. “I should get going, I have a train to catch soon,” she said, managing to slide out from under him. Harry nodded; he understood, of course. But neither of them said anything for a while, as Aria gathered her things and straightened herself up in front of the mirror. Harry had insisted as they ate breakfast that she continue wearing his t shirt instead of her coffee-stained one, “for mostly selfish reasons,” he had reassured her with a wink, and was now observing with the most gentle of smiles as she rolled up the sleeves a bit, looking at herself in the mirror.

“It’s rude to stare, Styles,” Aria reminded him, glancing at him for a mere second, a gleam in her eye. “Can’t help myself,” Harry said, as he folded his arms across his chest, but looked away anyway.

He was deep in thought, and he came to the conclusion that he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her, not yet anyway. “Don’t take the train,” Harry stated suddenly. Aria frowned at him, almost amused, before rolling her eyes and mumbling a sure. “No no, I can drive you back,” he declared.

Aria scoffed, “no, absolutely not,” even though she would love nothing more than to go on a mini road trip with Harry, it would make no sense for him to drive all the way to St Andrews and then drive all the way back to Glasgow, and it would have been extremely selfish of her to even think about asking him to.

“Why not?” Harry challenged, “I’m free all day today, I would rather spend time with you than be cooped up in this room with sheets-” Harry paused and took three quick steps and now stood behind her, looking at her through the mirror, “-sheets that smell like you,” he said, his voice low again, his hand traced down the side of her neck, moving the hair that covered the hickey out of the way, as he pressed a soft kiss on her temple.

“Oh come on, road trip, it’ll be fun!” He said, pulling away suddenly, his tone taking a turn back to his cheery one. “Hardly,” Aria said as she quickly composed herself, “its an hour and a half away.” Harry was about to say something else but before he could Aria said, “okay, let’s do it.” Harry’s eyes widened, as he gave her a huge beaming smile, and pulled her in for a hug, lifting her off the ground. “But I’m driving,” Aria announced, making Harry chuckle. “Absolutely not.”

***

Harry drove. But that allowed Aria to admire not only the Scottish countryside but also Harry’s beautiful side profile, so her complaints died down very fast. Somehow, with all the rest stops and snack breaks, they managed to take a little over 3 hours to complete the journey. It had to have been some sort of record in Delaying The Inevitable.

When Harry pulled up in front of Aria’s flat, they both got quite quiet, not looking at each other, afraid to break their little bubble.

“That’s a pretty necklace,” Harry said finally looking at Aria. She glanced down at the silver necklace that lay on her sternum and smiled to herself, before she reached behind her neck and unclasped the piece. And before Harry knew what was happening, she had leaned across the centre console and reached around his neck and clasped the necklace there. The necklace, with one evil eye charm and one disk charm with the letter A engraved on it, fell in between the open buttons of Harry’s shirt, accompanying his gold cross. It was an interesting contrast between the gold and silver jewellery.

Aria noticed Harry was about to say something as her eyesight drifted back to his face, but she beat him too it, “just something to remember me by.” It was a bittersweet feeling, it seemed like something was… ending.

Harry placed one of his hands on the necklace, on his chest, and the other on top of Aria’s much smaller one. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. He wanted to protest and tell her that she didn’t need to give him her necklace, but if he’d have learnt one thing about her in the past day, it was that she would not have listened. Not in an uncompromising way, just in an end of way. And it would certainly bring back good memories for him.

They stayed like that for a minute, holding hands. Aria was not looking at Harry anymore but he couldn’t not look at her. And he smiled to himself as he watched her cheeks redden from their sudden intimacy.

Harry took a deep breath, “another really good way to remember you by,” he began as Aria looked up at him, her brows slightly furrowed wondering where he was going with this, as Harry continued, “would be if you gave me your phone number,” he announced. It was hardly a question.

But Aria had a strict NO PHONE NUMBERS TO BE GIVEN TO ONE NIGHT STANDS rule, which echoed in her head like a siren. Oh, but this was Harry Freaking Styles, said a small voice in her head. Harry carefully observed her as she contemplated what to do. He could almost hear the cogs turning in her head.

“No,” Aria stated with finality that broke Harry’s heart a bit, and maybe even her own. “But you can have my email address.” Harry’s ears perked up, “I will take what I can get,” he replied with a small, nervous chuckle. Aria nodded, almost awkwardly. “Alright then,” she said as she typed in her email address into his phone, like it was 2005. “I take ages to reply, just a heads up,” she admitted as she handed Harry his phone back.

“Hey, maybe one day you’ll let me use the email to iMessage you,” he said with a wink. Shit. She didn’t think of that. He could very well iMessage her, and well, she wasn’t going to block him… Aria pushed her commitment issues to her back of her mind. What were the chances that one of the biggest pop-stars on the planet would actually take the time of day to email someone he had a) just met and b) someone who was Aria? With that silent self reassurance, she nodded, not saying anything about that.

“I should get going; class tomorrow, need to prep,” Aria said as she reached to the backseat and grabbed her overnighter. “So, I guess this is goodbye then?”

“Only for now,” Harry said with a small shake of his head, reassuring mostly himself.

Aria leaned across to Harry again and gently pressed her lips to his. “Bye, Harry,” she said, her lips still hovering over his, eyes still closed, before he leaned into her again, and kissed her once more. It was soft and quick, and without another glance or word, Aria was out the door, not giving Harry time to process.

So he sat there, as he watched Aria disappear behind the reflective glass doors of her building, thinking about everything he was feeling. And while Harry had never been in love - sure, he had been in his fair share of relationships with people he loved, people who he thought he could eventually be in love with, he couldn’t say for certain he was someone who had been in love. He thought about gazing into Aria’s deep chocolatey eyes, and felt the necklace burn into his soul in the best way possible, he felt what he could describe was the closest to being in love as he had been ever in his life. He had only known her for 16 hours, but dear god, he wanted to spend his every waking minute with her. And even if he hadn’t felt love, he had felt Something. Something he could describe in no other way.

48 notes · View notes

readyplayerhobi · 5 years ago

Text

Flower | 20

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, slight angst

; Word Count: 5.1k

; Warnings: Mentions of a car accident, character death, depression and anxiety

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: Boy have I struggled to get round to this. I’m working from home and on lockdown so I’m so bored and when I finish work, I just want to go to bed lol I half proof-read this and I’m posting it a little early! So...<33 as a reminder, the UK went forward an hour last night so the times each which have changed! Please reblog and give me some comments and love! I don’t get much interaction nowadays ;-;

; Flower Masterpost

“So Hoseok was really the first guy you messaged?” His mom asks, a soft smile on her face as she sits down on the couch, eyeing where you sit on Hoseok’s lap in the armchair with an unreadable look. Your stomach feels full from the delicious meal she’d made earlier to welcome you into her home and you almost whine when Hoseok shifts behind you, jolting you just enough to put pressure on your food baby.

For clarity, he was the one who had pulled you onto his lap once he’d sat down in a plush, leather armchair. Apparently this had always been his chair when he’d been living here and he didn’t want you too far away from him it seemed.

“Yeah. Actually, he was the only guy so...either that makes him really desperate or me very lucky.” You can’t help the teasing tone to your voice, the pitch increasing as you giggle when Hoseok lets out an overly exaggerated affronted gasp before gently tickling your sides.

“You take that back. I was not desperate. I waited like...a whole half an hour or something to respond to you.” He points out, lower lip pursing out into an adorable pout and you snort in amusement, flicking the metal ring affectionately.

Turning back to his parents, you shrug lightly as you reach out for your water, taking a sip of the cold liquid before placing it back on the coffee table. Thankfully, they hadn’t seemed too weirded out by your request for just water. You’d found that a lot of people found it bizarre that you preferred that over everything else, but they’d just taken it in their stride.

“He’s right in fairness. One of my best friends, Soyeon, signed up for match.com and she hadn’t filled any of her profile out. Only had a picture and her description was something like ‘I’m not as pretty as my filter makes me look’. Which is a complete by the way, she’s actually way prettier. But in like...fifteen minutes, she had over 100 likes and 30 messages. I know online dating works for some of us,” You give Hoseok a fond smile at that. “But honestly, some of them were just...desperate. I mean...how can you match with someone when all you have is their photo and nothing else?!”

That gets a laugh from his parents and you feel warm relief bloom in your chest; the knowledge that they were laughing with you and not at you was good. It meant they found you funny, which hopefully meant you were making a great impression on them.

“I gotta admit you’re right. I, personally, was never one to go by just looks. My friends can attest to the fact that just because someone looks nice, it doesn’t always mean they’ve got anything nice going on underneath. And by friends I mean me, unfortunately.” Hoseok’s face twists into a grimace and you wriggle in place slightly as you laugh, oblivious to the way he stiffens ever so slightly beneath you or the way his expression tightens for a moment.

His dad notices though, and the loud guffaw he lets out causes both Hoseok’s mom and you to stare at him in confusion. It makes Hoseok’s cheek’s colour though when he realises that his dad’s obviously figured out the reason for his discomfort.

“I hope that’s not referring to me.” Teasingly, you poke at his cheek and smirk when he tilts his head away, whining quietly before reaching up to grasp your finger. His chocolate brown eyes focus on you firmly before he’s waving the index finger of his free hand in your direction.

“Stop fishing lady. You know it’s not you,” You pout at that, eyes going big as you give him a wounded look and he can’t help but laugh at your antics, letting go of your hand to instead place his arms around your waist once more. “I’ve made a lot of really bad life choices, I’ll admit to that. But answering your message was definitely not one of them.”

That has you cooing at him, cupping his cheeks and squishing hard. He says something to you, but his lips are so smooshed together that it just comes out garbled, causing you to baby talk him for a few seconds as you feel the warmth of his cheeks heating beneath your palms.

It’s unbearably cheesy, and if you’d seen anyone else doing this then you’d have been embarrassed on their behalf. But you don’t really realise because something about him makes you be cheesy in a way you’d always cringed at before.

You’re both so involved with each other that neither of you notice the way his parents turn from watching you both to looking at each other. The emotion on their faces isn’t one you would recognise, given you’re not a parent yourself.

But for them, it’s a soul deep relief that paints itself on their face while burrowing into their very being. Their son, their only remaining child, their little boy whom they loved more than anything else in this world and had been lost to them for so long, was happy. His flushed cheeks might indicate his embarrassment but they recognised the happiness he radiated towards you as you played around with him.

And that was to say nothing of the pure love he seemed to positively glow with in your presence. Like you’d hit an internal switch inside him that had been flipped off many years ago. Hoseok had turned a corner in college with therapy but it felt like only now were they really getting to see the little boy that had disappeared so many years ago with the death of his sister.

It made his mom a little too emotional, and she stood up abruptly before leaving the room. The movement was so sudden that it distracted you both from each other, Hoseok’s brows immediately furrowing in concern while you watched after her in bewilderment.

Glancing back at him, you saw that Hoseok had seen the glassy tears in her eyes too. There was a brief pause between you before Hoseok shifted, getting ready to move you off his lap and evidently go after his mom.

But then his dad’s voice spoke up.

“Don’t Hoseok, it’s okay. She’ll be okay. How about Y/N go instead? It might be nice for you both to bond a little or something.” He gives a meaningful look to Hoseok and you get the sudden feeling that whatever had upset his mom was going to be explained to him by his dad. Leaving you to deal with Hoseok’s mom.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Don’t feel forced or anything.” Hoseok says firmly, glancing at his dad for a few seconds before looking back at you. You get the feeling that he’d just mentally reprimanded his dad for being so forceful and expectant but you gave him a slightly tense smile, shaking your head.

Nerves flared in your stomach immediately though, the anxiety rolling around and you shook ever so slightly at the thought of being alone with his mom. She’d been perfectly nice all evening to you, but there was the knowledge still that Hoseok loved her deeply and you’d seen tonight just how much she loved him too.

What if she was angry about what Hoseok had said? What if she didn’t approve of you? What if she was crying because she was upset Hoseok loved you or something?

A brief glance in Hoseok’s direction has him immediately scoping you out, squeezing his arms around you tightly and pushing his head into your neck. At this angle, he can kiss your cheek easily and he does so, freely giving his affection to you as his hands gently soothe.

“It’s okay, she’s not gonna bite. I swear. I promise. Please. If you’re okay with it then...talk to her, get to know her. And make sure she’s okay, please?” His eyes are wide and endearing in their innocence, causing you to give a slight smile as you run your fingers through his hair. “I love you, you’ll be okay.”

He whispers that bit, almost as if he’s afraid of his dad hearing. But you know it’s probably not that and more out of respect for you and how you feel when it comes to emotions. You’re not exactly someone who goes around shouting your feelings from the rooftops after all, and you feel the same way the other way around.

Swallowing, you take in a deep breath to fortify yourself before nodding. Anyone would think you were off to war, and you can’t help but chuff a laugh at the thought of that. It gets you a strange look from both Jung men, but you simply kiss Hoseok briefly before standing and moving in the direction his mom had gone.

As you reach the door frame though, you pause as your nerves get the better of you once more. Glancing back to Hoseok, you see him watching you with careful eyes, his lips turning into a sweet smile as he gives you his silent reassurance. His complete trust in you to not only handle yourself, but comfort his mom meant a lot and you resolved not to make him regret his faith.

The house Hoseok had grown up in was much larger than the one your parents had, the rooms bigger and the ceilings higher. Not only that, but there was just the sheer number of rooms on top of all that as well. It was one thing to know objectively that Hoseok’s family was well off, but it was another entirely to actually see it.

If anything, apparently Hoseok had been very humble about himself and his family’s money. They weren’t loaded or anything, but their house was big enough and in a nice enough suburb with two cars not even a year old that you’d immediately felt the difference between you both.

He hadn’t said anything about it though. Hadn’t indicated that he was aware of the difference at all. Maybe he didn’t notice or maybe he was just being polite and not mentioning it. It probably wasn’t very good in a relationship to blatantly float your wealth compared to your partner or something.

Either way, you appreciated his tact.

Once you'd left the room, Hoseok is distracted away from watching where you'd gone by the wry snort from his dad. Glancing over, he furrows his brows in a silent question, wondering what his dad found so funny.

"She's cute." Is all he says, causing Hoseok to nod in response. He doesn't even realise he's looking back until his dad talks again. "Your mom isn't going to kill her, you know, she'll be okay."

That makes him blush, his cheeks heating as he purposefully turns his body until he can't look out the door. Turning his gaze to his dad, he glares at him slightly before pursing his lips.

"I know that. I just...want to make sure she's okay." He didn't tell his dad why he thought that. Your emotions and mental health were yours to share or not, and you'd only shared it with him so far. Hoseok wouldn't betray your trust by blabbing it to everyone.

"Your mom won't do anything to upset her. We know how much she means to you. Which in case you didn't realise, is why your mom left the room."

Hoseok just hums lightly, hoping that will be true.

You find Hoseok’s mom in what looks to be a home office, the walls covered in bookcases filled with files and framed pictures while a desk takes pride of place, an iMac sitting atop it with the plush looking desk chair empty in front of it. She’s sat on an equally nice looking leather sofa, backed up against the wall and facing the desk.

For a moment, you stand awkwardly in the doorway, unsure of what to do or what to say. You feel probably even more nervous than you’d expected, your stomach swirling the delicious pot pie and vegetables she’d made for dinner that you’d eaten happily earlier. This was Hoseok’s mom. His mother. The woman who had carried him for nine months, given birth to him and raised him. The woman he adored.

You knew logically that you were psyching yourself out, but you just didn’t really know how to react. What if she was angry at you for some reason? Or disgusting for being so close with her son in front of her? Though Hoseok had been the one who had dragged you into his lap so it was his fault really.

“You can come in sweetheart, it’s okay.” Her tone is gentle and the warmth in it automatically soothes some of your nerves. You can really see where Hoseok got his caring nature from now, and it amuses you to know that he spent years actively pushing his parents away only to have such strong similarities between him and them.

Carefully, you move into the room and sit on the couch next to her, your posture absurdly straight and wooden as you struggle to relax. There’s a moment of silence before she lets out a soft chuckle, her hand reaching out to rest on your shoulder as she squeezes ever so slightly.

“You can relax, I promise I’m not going to be mean.” Looking at her, you see the familiar smile of your boyfriend in an older, feminine form and can’t help but smile back. Taking in her face properly, you realise as you see the way her eyes crinkle warmly that Hoseok has her eyes too. It makes something warm bloom in the midst of your nerves.

“Are you...are you okay? They err, sent me to check on you. I don’t know why. Maybe because I’m a girl or something.” Shrugging awkwardly, you pause as you hear the gentle laugh that falls from her lips once more.

“Probably. Neither of them are all that great with emotional women I think,” She muses, looking away from you to one of the bookcases. “But also probably because they want us to talk. They’re not very subtle.”

You can see the amused expression on her face and yet you feel a sudden urge of protectiveness, a desire to defend Hoseok. Which is ridiculous, because this is his own mother. But still.

“Hoseok’s great actually, he’s really good at coping in a crisis. Especially with an emotional woman. I should know because he did it with me the other month.” As the words fall from your mouth, you look away in horror and shock. Yet again, you’d just said something without thinking first and wanted to cringe at the knowledge that you’d just given away something had happened with you. And that you’d also just argued with her.

Instead of getting offended though, she reaches for your hand and squeezes gently, concern written all over her face when you turn to look at her. Genuine concern.

“I won’t poke my nose in, but are you okay yourself?” Glancing at your hands, you consider the last few months carefully before giving her a small smile and a nod.

“I am. On the way there anyway. And Hoseok has been a huge part of that. You should be proud of him.” That causes a smile from you as you remember everything that your boyfriend had done for you over the last few months and that warm fuzzy feeling returns in your chest.

“I am proud of him. We’re both proud of him. Probably more than he ever realises, you know? I know you know about the accident and everything that happened after. Sometimes we didn’t think we’d ever get to see our happy little boy again,” Pausing, she reaches for one of the binders stored into the bookcase close to her and pulls it out. “Have you ever seen a picture? Of his sister?”

Shaking your head, you take what you realise is one of those books that parents keep track of all the important milestones in their child’s first year and rest it on your lap, opening the cover carefully. The front page features a photograph of a tiny newborn baby, swaddled in a pale yellow blanket.

‘Jung Hyeri, born 28th November…’

The information carries on including her birth weight, the time of her birth, her star sign, her Chinese zodiac sign, her parents' names and more. On the next page was an ink imprint of her tiny foot, while the next page had a small piece of her black hair. Each page continued on, outlining her achievements such as her first word, her first time crawling, her first smile, her first time walking and so forth.

It was sweet, and yet you found yourself feeling so sad as you took in the image of Hoseok’s big sister back when she was so small. She wasn’t here anymore, and you can’t even begin to imagine how much their family still hurts over that.

“She was a sweet baby, laughed so easily and was really quiet. I think we got lucky for our first time.” His mom smiles brightly as she traces her finger along the image of Hyeri at her doljanchi, the Korean tradition of celebrating a child’s first birthday. She’s sat in a tiny hanbok with a table full of objects in front of her and you recognise it as the doljabi custom in which the item a child picked was supposed to dictate how their life would turn out.

“She picked up the book,” You look up at Hoseok’s mom, a small smile on your face. “Supposed to symbolise that they’ll be smart. And she was very smart. I like to think she would have become a scientist or something, because she used to love her science classes so much in school.”

Once you’ve finished looking through the book, his mom places it carefully back before smiling and giving you one that looks identical. Only this time, you get to see a more familiar name above the image of another baby, fast asleep in a pale green blanket this time.

‘Jung Hoseok, born 18th February…’

You can’t help but coo at the sight of how tiny he was, completely unable to reconcile this itty bitty baby with the man you have to look up to today. Each page is turned slower than before as you take in all the information you can, a part of your mind wondering if Hoseok would be embarrassed to know his mom was showing you his baby pictures.

But you can’t bring yourself to really care to be honest, because he looked so cute.

“Oh my god, you can see all of his features just in tiny chubby form.” Laughing quietly, you run your finger along Hoseok’s eye on a photo of him crawling, his smile so bright. He looked like a really happy baby, and even though you’re not fond of kids yourself, you can’t help but enjoy looking through the first year of his life.

Just like Hyeri, the final page was dedicated to Hoseok’s doljanchi celebration with a similar image of him in a cute hanbok in front of a table. Looking at his mom, you raise your brows in a silent question and she smiles.

“He chose money, which definitely pleased his grandparents. We weren’t concerned with pushing him though, you have to let children make their own way in life. Though he is doing quite well for himself isn’t he?” She takes the book from you and closes it carefully, placing it back in its rightful place before grasping a thicker binder.

This one is full of pictures and your eyes widen as you take them in. The pictures start out with Hyeri as a sweet three-year-old, sitting next to her newborn brother in his little bassinet. She’s looking inside, her black hair draping in and curling next to him. Over the next few pages, you observe as they both grow older.

Hoseok starts to be walking after her, and soon running, a bright and happy expression on both of their faces. Hyeri grows taller and taller, remaining firmly above her little brother and you see them building sandcastles on a beach, taking a walk along a forest lined path, climbing the steps of a castle and more.

A few pictures feature his parents, their fashion and hair wildly out of style for today but obviously perfect for the time. They looked like a happy family, one who was close with each other. As the children age through the photos, you note how Hoseok slowly starts to look a tiny bit more like how he does today.

The same occurs for Hyeri, her features losing the baby fat of her younger years as she fast approaches teenagehood. It’s with fondness that you note both siblings have the same eyes, sharing them with their mother in a clear sign of their familial relationship.

And then suddenly, Hyeri isn’t in the photos anymore.

It’s just Hoseok and occasionally his parents. Your heart clenches when you realise the joy that had been so evident in his eyes has vanished and that his smile is empty. It’s even worse when you realise how young was, how unprepared he was to suffer such a tragic incident so early in his life.

Swallowing hard, you look at his mom with a sad expression. “This was after, wasn’t it?”

She nods slowly, the pain in her eyes still as fresh and evident two decades later. “Yes, it was. A split second. That was all it took, and then we lost our daughter. We didn’t realise at the time that we’d lost him too, for such a long time. They were really close and he...he idolised Hyeri. He was convinced that he was the reason she’d died. That it was his fault. We knew it wasn’t, and he knew somewhere in his mind that it wasn’t. But...he was so young. And we just...we lost him to that grief and anger for so long. Therapists couldn’t help him back then because he was too lost in his own head. I think he had to be willing to accept the truth, and he wasn’t when he was younger.”

“Until college.” You murmur, running your finger along the vacant face of a younger Hoseok. It makes your heart hurt when you truly realise just how long he’d gone feeling such anger inside him, such a disconnect from the world. The tattoos on his body were a living memory to Hyeri, but you wondered if part of him had gotten them to start with so he could try and feel the pain he felt he hadn’t been given compared to her.

“Yes, until college. We had no idea until he came home one day, looking...well different I guess. And then he told us what he’d been doing. Apologised for how he’d behaved over the years and just...we talked it all out. All of us cried a lot, which I’m sure he was probably embarrassed about but, it felt like we were getting him back. There was still a part of him that wasn’t there though. A part that still...punished himself.” She sounds a little awkward then and you give an amused smile, knowing what she was getting at.

“You mean he slept around a lot and was still a little wild?” You can’t help the laugh that leaves you at her face at that, focusing back on the photographs as you flick through them. “I’ve met his friends. They were shocked that he was not only properly dating someone but that he was dating me in particular. Apparently I’m not his usual type.”

There must be something in your voice that sounds a little more vulnerable than you realised as his mom takes your hand gently, squeezing reassuringly until you’re looking at her. When you do, she takes a moment to look over your face before speaking.

“I know we’re talking about my son, but he obviously knew this was going to happen so I feel less bad about it. But I just...I need you to know it doesn’t matter what his friends said. What they say. Even what Hoseok says. He has a past, yes, but that means nothing really. He chose to date you, fully aware of his own habits and history, aware of you as well. No, you’re not like what he used to...date. If you can call it that. And that’s probably why it’s working, because you’re someone he has to actually work for, someone who’s made him realise that he wants to put in the effort required to make a relationship work. He wouldn’t be doing this, being with you and bringing you here, if he didn’t think you were worth it and that your relationship was going to work. I can promise you that.” It makes your stomach go all funny when you hear that and you’re not sure why.

Maybe it’s just because you’re finally getting validation that you’re not just some novelty Hoseok found. As much as you like his friends, you often feel distinctly uncomfortable with the knowledge that they found it amusing the fact he’d picked you. Like there was something wrong with you compared to the other girls he’d had in his life.

But hearing from his mom that there was nothing wrong with you and that it was probably just that Hoseok had found you worthy of his time and attention? That made you feel better. You were positive there was nothing wrong with all the other girls he’d been with, but the idea that he’d found you so enticing that he’d decided to commit himself was nice. More than nice really.

Logically, you knew it was stupid to be worried about things like this. After all, you’d both been in a relationship now for a year and he couldn’t change his past. So it should mean nothing. But you found it hard to let some things go.

“I didn’t know why he wanted me either to be honest. I mean...he’s...well him. Handsome, a good job, tattooed and into all that metal stuff. And I’m...me. Introverted, shy, awkward, exceptionally geeky and just...yeah. I mean, i know it’s stupid.” You struggled to explain it to his mom, feeling embarrassed about it but she lets out a soft tutting noise, placing her other hand over yours to capture it between her own.

“Doesn’t matter. None of it matters, okay? He knows all that. He knew all that before getting this involved with you. And he loves you. That’s what matters. And that’s what made me leave earlier. Because I got emotional seeing my little boy was back, the Hoseok who smiled and laughed with such love in his eyes. He’s been gone for so long, but he was there with you. So it doesn’t matter what the differences between you are. It doesn’t matter what his past is or yours. You make him happy, and that’s all I care about.” Now it’s really a struggle to not cry, hearing his mom sound so emotional and thankful to you.

It’s not like you’d done anything. Hoseok has done most of the heavy lifting in this relationship if you were being honest. You owed a lot more to him than he did to you, of that you were positive. But his mom looked so earnest and her words reverberated inside you.

Glancing down at the photobook, you take in the sight of a Hoseok who must have been around fourteen. His hair is just as black as it is today only the styling is completely different. The sides of his head are almost shaved while the hair remaining is gelled to be spikey. It’s not exactly the greatest look, but the anger in his eyes tells you that he probably didn’t care.

And it’s then that you realise that you’ve never seen Hoseok look like in this picture. Maybe it’s because of the therapy he went through in college, or maybe it’s because of you. You don’t know, but you do know that you don’t want to see him look like that again. Because that anger in his eyes was a mask for so much pain beneath.

And you don’t ever want Hoseok to suffer that again. Not while you could make him happy.

“He’s done more for me, I swear. But I’ll try to keep him happy for you. I promise. As long as he wants to be with me, I’ll try.” Your words are solemn, the tone grave and it makes her smile to see you being so serious about it.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m not going to force you at gunpoint to make him happy. There’s two of you in the relationship and he has to make you happy too. But I feel a lot better having met you now. I can see that you’re good for him, and I’m guessing that he’s good for you too. I’m just...I’m protective over him, even though he’s an adult now. We lost one child already and we were afraid that we’d lost our other too, so I want to do everything I can to make sure he stays with us.” Nodding, you give her a hesitant smile before handing back the now finished binder.

She places it back into the bookcase before taking in a deep breath and letting it out in one, long breath. There’s a hesitation before she stands, giving you a bright smile that you instantly recognise before she gestures to the door.

“Now, I think we should probably go back. Given how protective I’ve heard Hobi is over you, I think we should probably go and reduce his blood pressure by returning you to him.” You go hot at that, embarrassment making your hands press to your stomach lightly.

“He’s not that bad.” Murmuring, you follow her out of the room, unable to stop the smile as you hear her light peal of laughter.

“Sweetheart, you should have heard the riot act he gave us before bringing you over. If he thinks we did one thing to make you upset then I’m sure we’ll be made aware of it for the next few months. And as much as I love my son, I do not want to be given the cold shoulder or hear his grumbling over how we’d upset you. Men in love do the strangest things sometimes, so don’t underestimate him.”

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ayatosmlktea · 5 years ago

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𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

Izuku x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Pining...is this pining? BUT there’s fluff okay! I'm nice...

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: I don’t know why I had the hardest time writing this. I still don’t think this is good enough but...I wanted to write some fluffy for Izuku because he deserves it.

Tags: @sxnrisewrites, @yuueimagines, @sondering-thoughts, @bokunokangae, @liliumcandidum577, @xoxo-dede, @k-atsukidayo @thesecretnerd27 <-- IDK why you won’t show up in my tags but pretend you’re here ok? ily guys so much thank you for supporting my work 😭

It had been an uneventful sunday, but it was one that would stay with him for years to come. It wasn’t often that your class was able to spend a whole day together, with everyone having their hero internships to focus on and graduation quickly approaching. So Izuku greedily took every opportunity he had to spend with you. Even if he was utterly lost for words on how to express just how special you really were to him.

The taro bubble tea in your hands nearly forgotten while you were chatting enthusiastically with the girls from your class. The comfortable orange glow of sunset illuminated your features in a way that Izuku could only describe as angelic. He had gotten so lost in your smile that he hadn’t heard Iida and Todoroki calling his name. A bright shade of red sweeps over his face, the tips of his ears burning with embarrassment and the amused side eye you give him doesn’t help quell how small he feels.

“You should tell her how you feel” Izuku lets out a small horrified gasp at Iida’s suggestion.

“It’s been three years, Midoriya” Todoroki adds, a pensive expression lightly washing over his features.

“I can’t!” He sighs defeatedly, he had swore to himself that he’d tell you how he felt at the end of their first year. But one year turned into two and then three. Even with constant assurance from his two closest friends that you had feelings for him too, he just couldn’t find it in him to pour out his pent up love to you. The longer he thought about it the more he realized that you were out of his league and the more he rationalized that you didn’t actually like him but were merely nice to him out of pity. There was no way someone like you would ever love him back.

Your delicate beauty and self-assured personality were the complete opposite of him. Not to mention, your quirk was strong and more than once Izuku had gotten his ass handed to him during training from watching the way you moved. It wasn’t a secret that he had a whole notebook dedicated to ways you could enhance your offense attacks, Izuku had notebooks for nearly everyone in your class and 1-B as well.

However, he had gotten a little carried away with yours and had ended up with two more notebooks filled with things he so desperately wished he could tell you but would never have the courage to do so.

“You should do it soon, graduation is coming up” Izuku chewed on his bottom lip, he had already thought about it. It was kind of a cliche romantic thing to do but after graduation your class wouldn’t be together anymore and that meant that he wasn’t going to have the luxury of seeing you everyday.

He had already heard you making plans with some of the girls to become roommates after graduating, and Izuku couldn’t help but feel an empty aching in his chest at the thought of letting you slip away.

Sometimes he felt spontaneous surges of confidence jolt throughout his body, moments when it was just the two of you sitting in comfortable silence. The words were always on the tip of his tongue and yet they never made it past his lips.

Moments like these where your beauty was highlighted by how carefree and happy you looked. Izuku watched as you brought your drink to your lips lost in the thought of how perfect they would feel against his own. Iida let out a sigh of exasperation, he’d watched the same look on Izuku’s face for the past three years and it never failed to make him want to shake some sense into the green-haired boy. Despite going through an abnormal growth spurt their second year Izuku still looked as innocent as the first time they’d all met. It was stupidly endearing.

Izuku’s thoughts were rudely interrupted by Bakugou’s hand roughly pulling your body into his. The two of you had always been close and as guilty as it made him feel Izuku was never able to push down the low burning fire of jealousy that had sunk its hooks into his chest.

It didn’t help that Bakugou would shoot smug expressions at Izuku over his shoulder. It made the whole ordeal more humiliating, knowing that his rival knew all about his crush on you and used it to torment him further. This was another reason why he had held off from confessing.

Izuku had convinced himself that as long as Kacchan was in the picture, he never stood a chance.

He almost wanted to hate you for making it so easy to be around you, for how indescribably comfortable he felt around you. Nights like these were what made him long to touch you in ways that physically pained him. He had watched every second of your fight with fascination and adoration with shining emerald eyes, the same way he had done two years prior.

You had exceeded his expectations, and it warmed his heart to see that you had taken some of his suggestions seriously and implemented them in your fighting. It was the final week you’d all be staying in the dorms and as the days flew by Izuku felt increasingly panicked on what he should do.

He wanted to tell you, he loved you. He loved you more than his expansive All Might collection, and that was saying something. You had gone out to sit on the front porch of the dorm after everyone had gone to bed. Izuku knew how you liked to be alone with your thoughts, he was never quite sure what you were thinking of as you gaze dreamily at the moon. The rush of butterflies in his stomach at the marginal possibility you were thinking of him never got old.

The sound of the front door opening broke your trance, your head turning slightly to glance at whoever it was. The warm smile on your lips beckoning him over to you, pulled on every heartstring that was intertwined with you.

The pale yellow moonlight washed over your features in a way that made you look magical and stole the breath right from his lungs. Izuku wasn’t sure what had compelled him to sit a little closer to you than he normally did, but the warmth radiating from your thigh sent shocks all up his right side. If he wasn’t careful with his emotions, green sparks were sure to start emitting from him. Crickets played a late night symphony for the two of you, neither one saying anything merely enjoying the other’s presence.

“I’m really proud of you” your words are quiet, the way you always speak whenever it’s just the two of you alone at night. His cheeks heat up at your whispered compliment. Your watery e/c eyes met his, and Izuku swore he would never get tired of getting lost in them.

“I still remember when you broke your finger throwing that baseball our first year” you giggled fondly. The memory of it brought a small smile to his lips, not because it was a good memory but because it was the first time you had given him that smile you were giving him now. You had been a bit more reserved back then but the way your eyes shone with amazement at him was something he would never forget.

“Sorry I don’t know why I’m feeling so sentimental tonight” you laugh, hastily wiping away fallen tears from your eyes.

Izuku knew why, it was the same reason he had come outside. Your time together was rapidly coming to an end, the place you’d all called home for the last two years was about to become a thing of the past. Izuku’s breath hitched when your hand slid over his. Surely it had to be a mistake, you were obviously emotional and still running on lingering endorphins.

The look in your eyes changed so suddenly it was almost too fast for him to catch. The back of his neck became uncomfortably hot as your eyes travelled down his face, stopping at his lips as you lean in slowly, craning your neck up to accommodate his height.

Izuku felt time stop, there was no other explanation for what was happening in slow motion right in front of his eyes. Your lips were mere inches from his, and all he could picture was Kacchan’s smug smirks, the teasing laughs of classmates when he’d stupidly fallen for someone being dared to ask him out. He doesn’t know why he did it but out of sheer panic and denial he pushed your shoulders back and sped back inside, the look of confusion and hurt on your face left unnoticed.

He didn’t stop until his back was pressed against his door, safely inside the four walls of his dorm room. His mind was reeling, the reality of the situation refusing to sink into his brain.

You were not about to kiss him, even if you were it was probably because of some stupid bet you’d made with Mina or Jirou.

Bitter tears burn his eyes, why did it always have to end like this? Sliding down to the floor Izuku tried his best to wipe the incessant tears away but they kept falling. All he could think of was how you were all graduating at the end of the week, how he was a coward and how he had ruined your friendship with one stupid mistake. He should have gone back out, explained to you how he felt and why he had pushed you away but his fragile heart wouldn’t allow it. And so, on a warm June evening Izuku locked away his heart and shoved his feelings for you into depths that were not easily escaped.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

It was unfair of him to hope that you would wait for him, but Izuku carried the weight of what he’d done to your friendship for a long time. All the while still hoping that you still felt the same way he did, almost two years later. It wasn’t like he didn’t think of you, he could still recall the way you avoided eye contact with him the morning after. Your eyes rimmed red and the tip of your nose a little pink. The awkward sad smile you still offered to him at graduation replayed over and over again in his mind.

“Y/N I-”

“It’s okay Izuku, I get it.” Thorny spikes of regret closed around his throat, the words he wanted to tell you were not coming out no matter how hard he tried.

“Stay safe okay?” He saw how hard you were trying to fight back tears, the slight tremor in your voice clawed at his conscience. He barely registered the quick hug you gave him, fingers lightly grabbing onto his shirt before you pulled away without so much as a second glance back.

Izuku spent many nights thinking about all the things he should have told you in that moment, how he didn’t think someone like you could ever be into him. How he really wanted to kiss you and had wanted to tell you that he loves you for the past three years but was too scared to do it.

The two of you rarely ran into each other and whenever you did it was only in passing, but any time you were on TV it was almost guaranteed that Izuku was glued in front of it. Watching with fascination how far your mastery of your quirk had improved since graduating. And yet, his inferiority complex let you walk away again and again until the image of the back of your head had become more familiar to him than your face.

While scrolling through his social media one night, he stumbled across a picture Momo had posted, you were in it. And while the picture should have made him happy it further dug the knife of guilt and regret further into him. It was a picture of you on what appeared to be a double date, and you looked...happy. Happier than he’d ever seen you since that night. His eyes remain transfixed on the arm wrapped around your shoulders. Bitter jealousy bubbles up, it could have easily been his arm that was holding you close to him.

It hurt more than it should have. Afterall he was the one who had rejected you. It was only natural that you’d move on, give your love to someone who wasn’t afraid to return your feelings. Izuku didn’t open Instagram for a while after that.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

“Are you sure it’s supposed to look like this?” Izuku wondered out loud, peering at his reflection with an uncertain gaze. His fingers reached up to touch his hair but were quickly slapped away by the petite brunette.

“Yes, this is what happens when you brush your hair Deku” Uraraka laughed. She had offered to help him get ready for the event being hosted by the Hero Commission tonight. Izuku had grown accustomed to wearing suits, but he’d never had his hair styled like this. It was neatly slicked back with a few curled strands dangling over his forehead. It was definitely new to him, but even he couldn’t deny that it enhanced his facial features a lot better than the usual mop of curls he kept his hair in. He looked more mature. After making a few more adjustments to his outfit Uraraka declared his outfit satisfactory and the pair headed downstairs.

“Beautiful as always, Uraraka. Midoriya.” Iida greeted them in the lobby of Izuku’s apartment. The trio had stayed quite close after graduation, even if they weren’t able to see each other often the connection never died. Izuku was grateful for their company, he wanted nothing more than to bail on the event but it wouldn’t reflect very well on the number one hero. His stomach was twisting tightly with nerves, his leg bounced anxiously the entire car ride to the venue.

Paparazzi were everywhere, he’d gotten used to putting on a smile for the camera’s regardless of how he really felt. Images were important to maintain.

The inside of the venue was packed, heroes from all across Japan were mingling with one another. It was lavish and over the top, nothing less than he had expected. He couldn’t help the way his eyes scanned the crowd, looking for a flash of H/C hair.

Emerald eyes locked onto your form, you were alone outside leaning against the balcony railing, face partially lit up by your cell phone. No matter how many times he looked at you, you still stole the air from his lungs like the first time he’d fallen in love with you all those years ago.

“Go talk to her” Uraraka whispered, lightly shoving him in your direction. His feet moved without thinking, his palms were sweating and the room suddenly felt ten times hotter than it had when they’d walked in. You notice him out of the corner of your eye and he can’t help but feel a little smug at the way you openly double take his appearance.

“Izuku? Oh my God!” Your face breaks out into the biggest grin he’d ever seen and his brain malfunctions when your arms wrap around his neck enthusiastically nearly choking him. It takes him a second to collect his thoughts but his arms easily slide around your waist, the feeling of your body against his lighting a fire inside his soul that he hadn’t felt in a long time. His nerves were sparking with electricity at the way you looked at him as you pulled back. It was almost like you two had never fallen out, you were so talkative.

“You’re so tall now, holy shit! I mean I knew you grew but I haven’t seen you in, like two years!” Your laugh was infectious, the sound of it was even better than he remembered. His chest swelled with uncontainable love for you as you rambled on about anything and everything. He didn’t even need to say anything you were perfectly adept at carrying the conversation by yourself. He couldn’t understand why you were so excited to see him but Izuku wasn’t going to complain.

“Honestly, I’m not surprised you’re the number one hero Zuku. I’m so proud of you” you sighed happily. His whole face was on fire, his heart was beating so hard Izuku was sure that anyone in a ten mile radius could hear it. It almost felt like destiny...the moon once again gifting its light to illuminate your beauty. It was too perfect of a moment to ruin again and for the first time in years, Izuku finally found the words he had been dying to say.

“Y/N, I’m in love with you” he watches your eyes widen and your mouth opens to say something but he stops you.

If you interrupt him now he’ll probably never get it out again.

“I pushed you away because I panicked. My whole life people have lied about liking me as some stupid joke and when you were going to kiss me I freaked out because how could someone as beautiful and kind as you ever like me? I know I’m not the most attractive person and I know that I ramble way too much but pushing you away was one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done and I have regretted it every single day since then. I wanted to apologize but I’m such fucking coward that I just let it go.” He can’t bear to look at your expression but he also needs to know what you’re thinking.

“Wait so...you actually like me?” Your thoughts are a jumbled mess, there’s so much information to process and you can’t really wrap your mind around any of it. Everything you’ve thought to be true for the last few years was suddenly crashing down.

“No, I love you. I’ve been in love with you since our first year of highscho-” before Izuku can finish his sentence your hands are grabbing the collar of his dress shirt and pulling him down into a messy kiss. His hands instinctively tangle in your hair, angling your face so he can deepen the kiss he’s waited five years for. A sudden thought makes him jerk back and the same look of confusion flashes across your face.

“Wait aren’t you dating someone?”

“Why would you think I’m dating someone?” you ask, your eyebrows furrowed together.

“That picture Momo posted, you were with some guy” he trailed off bashfully, completely embarrassed at admitting that he had been lurking on your pictures.

“Oh him, no we were never serious. I mean he was nice but...he wasn’t you” you mumbled, your face an identical shade of pink.

“God this is so embarrassing!” you laugh anxiously moving to cover your face with your hands but Izuku stops you.

“Y/N, I’ve waited five years for this moment don’t even think about hiding yourself from me” a burst of heat blooms in your stomach at his sudden confidence.

“You really are something special, Midoriya Izuku” you laugh placing your hand on his cheek.

“S-so um, does this mean you still love me too?” in an instant the shy green-haired hero you had fallen for was back and a fond smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

“Obviously”

Masterlist

#Izuku x reader #deku x reader #Midoriya x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia #my hero academy fanfiction #boku no hero academia #boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia fanfiction #izuku imagines #deku imgaines #izuku fluff #mha blog #bnha blog #mha imagines #bnha imagines

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3pirouette · 4 years ago

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Title: An Experimental Design

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: Sequel to “What Number?”, also prompted from Steggy Bingo Bash Prompts. Takes place about a week after that fic.

Chapter A/N: This chapter is for everyone who has been posting their theories about what will happen. It's always been planned this way since I first started writing, so I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 8: Fallout

~*~

She held his hand out the door, and in the backseat as they drove back to the base. He didn’t acknowledge the tremor in her hand out loud, or that fact that while they both knew that Howard wouldn’t purposely hurt them, everything about the situation was dangerous and unknown.

She only let go when they arrived at the base, slipping the mask of propriety and duty back on, her worried eyes hiding behind a false confidence he could see right through.

~*~

The very first thing she did when they got back to apartment was run for the bathroom, retching sounds filtering all the way back to Steve at the front door. He moved slowly, taking his time to get to her and allow her some privacy. The procedure itself had been quick and nearly painless: two shots each, right in the upper arm, though Steve’s needles were decidedly larger than the ones they used on Peggy. It had taken them longer to get there and back in the car.

Steve grabbed a washcloth and ran it under cool water as he slipped next to her in the bathroom, handing it to Peggy as he crouched down. “Guess he wasn’t lying about the side effects, huh?”

She nodded, wiping at her mouth and then pillowing her head on her arm, still kneeling at the toilet. “The headache’s started, too.”

He gently ran a hand over her back. “What can I do?”

“I think I’ll stay here for the moment… stomach’s not all that settled yet.”

He rubbed her back gently. “Tea?”

“That would be lovely,” she murmured, her face pinching as she started to feel the waves of nausea again.

Steve let her be, knowing there was little he could do, and set about making her tea. Howard had listed a dozen likely side effects and a few rare ones they were supposed to be aware of that could last hours or days. Howard wasn’t sure how long the doses would last, but he’d given Steve four times more than Peggy and said to keep their fingers crossed and try to avoid excessive touching.

Steve wasn’t going to avoid comforting Peggy while she was crouched over the toilet, but a tiny peck and some gentle touches were hardly the same level of skin to skin contact they’d indulged in recently. He poured the hot water over the tealeaves and waited, watching the water darken. The list of side effects we daunting, but so far, Steve felt fine.

Fine, he thought, was putting it lightly. He felt the clearest he had in days, maybe even months. He opened the kitchen window, taking in the late morning sun and took a deep breath, the light air mixing with the soft scent of Peggy’s tea. He felt awake. Free.

This was working.

The desire he felt for her was just that: desire. It wasn’t the overwhelming lust or the desperate need for her any longer, just the low simmering love he’d felt before all of this started, ready to ignite with a touch or a kiss.

He turned, meeting her eyes as she joined him, staying by the doorway. Her color looked better already, though she had a glassy look still in her eyes. “Better?” he asked.

“Seems, for the mo’ at least.” She took a slow, deep breath in and out. “Headache isn’t too bad,” she grabbed the mug from the counter and took a slow sip, “It’s bearable. You?”

He didn’t want to flaunt his newfound revelations, not when she seemed to be still struggling. “Feeling ok so far.” He shrugged, wanting to reach out. Their directive to not touch made things awkward and stilted.

“I think I’ll take a lie in, just for a bit.” Peggy clutched her mug.

“Yeah,” he waved his hand, nodding over and over again, feeling silly and stupid and suddenly like he was 98 pounds all over again. “Yeah, just… just call if you need me.”

Her lips stayed pressed together when she smiled. Her nod was just as awkward as his, eyes retreating to her tea as she turned.

~*~

He sat on the couch, sketching her through the door to the bedroom. She’d left it open a crack, and he’d quietly widened it when he went to check on her. From his spot curled into the side of the sofa he had a perfect view of her face, overtaken by sleep, her curls falling and lips parted just slightly.

He hoped the vomiting and the headache and the fatigue meant it was working. It was hard not to feel trapped and used, he thought, as he added shading to her cheek. Despite the positive, the time and the touches, and the very clear understanding that they were in love, it felt wrong and broken to be forced together like this.

He wanted them to be living happily in a little apartment or small house in the suburbs because the war was over and they wanted to be there, not because they had to be together even if they did love one another.

The difference was small, but it mattered.

He wished he had a set of pastels to flush out the pink in her cheeks and the red of her nails, some blues and yellows to try to capture the way the sunlight tried to peek through the drawn curtains.

Steve had gotten used to the magnetic pull of her, the need to be around her, to touch her. Yesterday, he wouldn’t have thought twice about shedding his clothes and slipping into bed with her, pressing up against her and holding her close. Now, though the idea appealed to him, he was content to rest on the couch, eyes keeping watch. He hadn’t realized how strong the pull to touch her was from his end until it left him today.

He started to feel his eyelids droop as he smudged the pencil line of the blanket around her shoulder. He wasn’t normally one to nap, but it would help pass the time. Going for the entire day without touching her seemed like a monumental task. He slipped his pencil into his notebook and let it fall on his chest as he stretched out.

A quick catnap would help the day pass faster.

~*~

Peggy rolled, the blankets tangling around her. She took a deep breath, wiggling her fingers and toes and taking stock on how she felt. The nausea was gone, and though she’d slept for what she thought must have been a few hours she didn’t feel refreshed.

She turned, blinking her eyes open. Through the crack in the door she could see Steve, sprawled on the couch that was far too small, head thrown back and mouth wide open, his sketchbook perilously close to falling from his slack fingers on his chest.

She couldn’t help but smile. He seemed so soft, so innocent, so much like that small man she’d first met, even if the sheer size of him made the couch seem more like a piece of child’s furniture. Peggy slipped from the bed, wrapping her robe around herself as she made her way out into the living room. She snuck quietly across the floor, feeling the need to run her fingers through his hair, to be near him.

She wanted to believe it was working, but so far she’d only felt the ill effects that Howard had talked about. They’d have to stay away from one another for hours to see if it truly worked, and based on the pull she felt she wondered if they were even capable of that if they were this close to one another.

She did some quick math, glancing at the clock across the room and decided that it must be doing something. She should have felt something by now. The only thing she felt was the need to be around him, no tingling or discomfort at all.

Peggy stopped at the edge of the couch, one hand holding her robe together, the other gently playing over his hair, touching only enough to feel the softness against her fingertips, not enough to graze his scalp and tempt fate.

She felt a need to wrap herself in him. Not the all-consuming need that had been based in need and pain and sex, but a different kind of feeling that felt like it was spreading from deep in her, to wrap him up and be wrapped in him and stay in this small little apartment until they couldn’t avoid the outside world any longer.

He shifted under her, taking a deep breath and reaching out. She scooted her hips away, avoiding his reach but kept her hand on his head. He groaned unhappily, and she made soothing, shushing noise ass he raked her finger nails through his hair. “We’re already doing a horrible job of not touching, my darling. Let’s not tempt fate.”

He didn’t open his eyes, but he turned, pressing his head into her touch. She reached out, saving the notebook from crashing to the floor. She set it on the coffee table in front of him and smiled, the pencil rolling out and flipping the book open to the picture of her. She kissed his hair, eyes closed softly, warmth radiating through her.

The little apartment felt warm, home, and enough for now. She wasn’t in pain, wasn’t hurting, and she had Steve. It was enough, could be enough, for now at least. She slipped into the kitchen, trying to keep things as quiet as she could while she made herself another cup of tea. Would he still sketch when there were chores to be done? Would they still be so gentle with one another when the stresses of daily life were different? Would he stay with the SSR? Would they let her keep being a spy or cast her off, saying women weren’t necessary when there wasn’t a war on? There were so many unknowns, but she still somehow felt warm, solid, and happy.

Whatever Howard’s hormones were doing to her, she didn’t much mind; it was the calmest she’d felt in weeks.

~*~

She was still sitting in the kitchen, the dregs of her tea cold in her hands, when Steve lumbered in, eyes glazed over. She watched as he pulled a glass from the cabinet and filled it from the tap, chugging the contents down before refilling it over and over again. He drank with a singlemindedness that put her on edge. It was only after he’d drank what she thought was nearly a gallon that he stopped, hands on the edge of the counter, panting to catch his breath.

“Thirsty?” Peggy asked quietly, unsure if he’d even registered she was in the room.

He took a slow, deep breath and hung his head. “Yeah I—” He took another and turned, wiping the drips of water from his lips. “I woke up and I just felt like I hadn’t had anything to drink in days.” His eyes caught the afternoon sun out the window. “How long was I asleep?”

She smiled, standing and walking her mug to the sink. “We both lost a few hours there, I think. It’s almost 4.” She turned, brushing his hair from his eyes, looking him over. “Are you alright otherwise?”

He nodded quickly, almost too quickly for her liking. “Yeah, I’m… I’m just… didn’t think I’d sleep that long. I’m a little out of it.”

She let her lips kiss his shoulder, careful to keep her skin away from his. “We can continue to blame stress and Hydra. I’ll have it no other way.”

He set his hands on her hips, as careful as she was. “How about you? Still feeling alright?”

She nodded, a smile on her lips. “Stomach’s still a touch unhappy, but I think that’s more from not eating since early this morning. Otherwise, I’m…” she shrugged her shoulders, still cautious about expressing her happiness, “zero.” She couldn’t help the way the smile bloomed on her face. “We haven’t touched enough for me to not feel something by now. I don’t want to go too far, but I’m…optimistic.”

“Good, good.” He smiled tightly, his eyes struggling with something he didn’t want to share. His hands were awkward at her hips, like he had to remind himself to be gentle with her, and his shoulders were stiff. She narrowed her eyes at him, waiting. They knew each other well enough that she didn’t have to say anything for him to know he’d been caught. He shook his head, resigned and stepping away. “I think whatever side effects I’m going to get are hitting me now. I just feel… weird. A little… I don’t know. I can’t explain it.”

“What can I do?” She asked, stepping back and giving him some more space as he leaned back against the counter.

He looked out the window, crossing his arms and shaking his head. After a long, quiet moment he licked his lips and turned back to her. “Let me make dinner… well, early dinner. Maybe it’ll help me focus.”

Peggy didn’t like the way he looked: a little sallow, eyes a little hollow, the way he looked after he’d been hurt in a firefight and he was trying to be brave for everyone else. She backed away, giving him the room. “I’ll be reading, just call if you need help.”

His smile was genuine, even if it didn’t reach his eyes. “I think I can handle some chicken and dehydrated mashed potatoes.”

Peggy licked her lips, eyes still dead set on him. She thought about joking, about trying to break the tension, but she couldn’t shake the feeling something hadn’t gone quite right with his dose. “I can call Howard, he could be here in fifteen minutes he said if anything went wrong.”

This time, the smile did make it to his eyes. “I’m fine, Peg. I promise.” He crossed to her, taking her head in his hand and dropping a kiss on her forehead. “And I’ll tell you if I’m not, ok?”

It was the sincerity in his eyes that finally gave her some sense of footing. “Alright.” She stepped back, removing the temptation to give in to more touching. “Don’t burn my potatoes.”

~*~

Peggy’s stomach was growling loud enough for Steve to hear by the time he announced dinner was ready. She tried to make a joke of it, but it fell flat as he set a full plate in front of her.

They ate silently, Steve quietly watching Peggy as she filled her mouth, struggling to keep her lips closed and be ladylike as she chewed. “I’m starved,” she tried to justify with a little laugh between bites, feeling his eyes on her. He ate sparingly, his eyes darting to her each time she took a bite. “Must be the…” she stopped, putting another spoonful in her mouth, watching as Steve only nodded, agreeing to say it was ‘just another side effect.’ She scraped the end of the mashed potatoes from her plate, wrapping her tongue around the spoon, eyes widening in confusion when Steve switched out his mostly full plate for her empty one. “Darling?”

He kept his face carefully blank. “Aren’t you hungry?”

She tipped her head, looking at him cautiously. She was very aware of how much Steve’s increased metabolism needed food, and knew very well how much he could eat. “Aren’t you? You’ve barely eaten.”

“You need it more.”

She smiled, trying to break the tense look in his eyes. “I was just hungry. I’m fine now. And there’s plenty more if—”

He dropped his fork on the empty plate in front of him, standing and pacing away. The air in the room was suddenly thick and it reminded her off too many debriefs where they’d lost and he felt responsible. The deja-vu nearly choked her it hit her so hard, but it helped her re-center and take charge of the situation.

She squared her shoulders, staring at his back. “Tell me.”

“I have to take care of you,” he bit out, grabbing the top of the kitchen doorframe and leaning into it.

With his arms up his shirt tightened around him and she could see just how tense he was, his muscles corded and ready for a fight. She stood slowly, cautiously closing this distance between them. “You are, Steve.” Her voice was soft but sure, and she left no room for arguments. “I’ve never been safer than I am at this very moment.”

He turned so fast she barely registered he’d moved before she was in his arms, his forehead pressed against her tight. It wasn’t concern, but pain on his face: his eyes shut tight, jaw working to try to find the words. “You’re not,” he finally whispered. “Everything in me is screaming that I’m not keeping you safe and…” he dropped his head, gathering her closer and burying his face in her neck. He took a deep breath in like he was breathing her into himself, trying to take her in and surround her. “I need to do better,” he muttered, “I have to do better.”

Peggy was stunned, and could do nothing but wrap her arms around him and hold him tight as he held her.

This was not a side effect Howard had prepared them for.

She cradled his face in her hands, gently pushing him back so she could see his eyes. “I am safe, Steve. I am here, with you, and I am perfectly safe.” She let her hand wipe at the sweat that started to show at his brow, over his jaw and down to his neck where she could feel his racing pulse finally starting to slow. She kissed him gently, pulling away before he could react to her lips. “I am fine. What do I need to do to help you see that?”

His eye squinted shut again as he shook his head. “Don’t know,” he mumbled, making her want to hold him close until whatever this was passed. She’d never seen him like this and it scared her.

She kissed him again, and this time, she could feel his pulse start to slow more the longer they touched.

Even if this was working for her, it seemed to be only hurting him.

Peggy pulled her lips away, pressing her cheek to his and running her hand up and down his back until his pulse quieted under her fingers. When he was significantly calmer, she finally broke the silence. “We need to call Howard.”

It was like he’d never been calm, the way his pulse jumped under her fingers and how his hands grasped tightly at her waist, holding her possessively to him. “No.”

She leaned back, eyes stern. “Steve…”

He shook his head, turning away from her to try to hide whatever it was he was feeling. “We have to go back tomorrow, anyway. Just…” He sighed, turning back to her, his eyes sad and begging. “Not yet, ok?”

If he’d said anything else, she would have fought him, but the words echoed her own past pleading to avoid doctors so closely that she found she couldn’t deny him. He’d always followed her lead, and she found she could do no less. She swallowed hard, and nodded. “But you have to eat something,” she heard herself say, unsure of where it came from or why it was suddenly so important to her.

At his nod she pulled him to the table, sitting him back down in his chair and then scooting his full plate back in front of him. He looked at it, then looked back up at her, and she could only shake her head at him.

She should have been angry, but instead she felt like she was soothing some large, wounded animal laying at her feet, unsure of how to take care of himself now that his fight was over. She perched herself on his lap, reaching over and taking the fork to feed him.

Steve’s hand stopped her own, eyes bewildered at his own actions. “Are you… are you sure you ate enough? You’re not hungry?”

She let her free hand fall over his cheek, resting at his shoulder. “That’s how you’re taking care of me?” He opened his mouth to answer, but he huffed air from his nose as he shrugged and shook his head. He didn’t know, and she didn’t, either. “Alright, then.”

Peggy, nowhere near hungry but understanding baser instincts when she saw them, took a small bite off the end of the piece of chicken on the fork. She held the rest out to him as she chewed, their eyes locked as he pulled the piece from the fork with his teeth and ate it.

It almost made her feel better that Steve seemed as baffled by his behavior as she was, that his eyes were lost and frustrated as he seemed to need to wait until she ate before he could, though as they neared the end of the plate, he took the fork from her and fed himself, his grasp somewhat looser as he held her in his lap.

“First thing tomorrow, no delaying,” she demanded softly as he pushed the plate away. He nodded and she moved from his lap, busying herself and her mind with the dishes. She tried to avoid the racing questions, the wild what-ifs that started to run through her mind as she cleaned the pans and plates, Steve still sitting quietly behind her.

She couldn’t help but smile when she felt him behind her as she stood at the sink, rinsing the last plate. It felt more like the way things had been for him to step up behind her with her hands filled with soap suds. He pressed tight against her, chest to back, and let his hands wrap around her, holding her low on her belly. His nose nuzzled against her nape as she set the last plate to dry, leaning back into him. She heard him take a deep breath in, the air tickled over her skin and made her shiver.

Peggy reached one arm up behind her, letting her fingers tangle in his hair, holding his lips against her flesh as he began to kiss and nip. It was different from how he’d held her at the sink the other day: it was more insistent, more possessive. She tried to avoid the dark thoughts that wanted to seep into her mind as he touched her. He needed her touch right now, and that’s all she cared about.

She couldn’t help but wonder if this was how he felt every time she’d come to him, worked up and needing something only he could give.

Steve growled, low in his throat. It was deep and dark and domineering and something about it excited her. They were supposed to be avoiding touching, but she had barely touched him all day and she felt starved for him.

He felt wound up behind her, the power in his body held back and ready to burst. She wondered if it was the hormones or just the feeling of finally deciding to allow herself to touch him after all the hours of trying to stay apart. Either way, it had been hours since they’d touched before dinner and she felt no pain, no tingling, no discomfort but she yearned for him like she couldn’t explain.

He spun her in his arms, lifting her on to the counter and taking her lips. She kissed him back, happy to let him take the lead, his eyes dark with lust.

~*~

He held her possessively as he slept, in a way Peggy couldn’t ever remember Steve holding her before. On one hand, she felt safe and protected, but on the other, this new, darker side to him was concerning. It was the only reason she’d relented, the only reason she’d allowed him to touch her.

She’d only seen it when she couldn’t process it: when she’d been in so much pain and his skin was the only thing that would bring her relief. She could almost remember the look on his face in the hospital, and again when he crashed through the wall, but tonight she could see his eyes, feel the energy burning through him and she knew, she knew deep down, something about what Howard had done had caused this switch in him.

Touching him helped, just like it had helped her, but he said he didn’t feel pain. He couldn’t describe it to her beyond the idea of keeping her safe. She didn’t know what that meant to him, didn’t know why it tapped into his need to see her eat, then to see her safely to the bedroom, to hold her until he needed to touch and kiss her again, then to hold her until he fell asleep.

She wasn’t sure if the touching was helping all that much, but at least he was asleep.

The knot of anxiety in her stomach started to rise, acid burning and that sickly wave feeling ran through her as she broke out in a sweat. She tried to push away from him but his arms twined around her tighter.

“Mine,” he mumbled in his sleep.

“Steve, let go,” she pushed against him while attempting to slow the rising nausea within her, but trying to move his arms was like trying to dislodge metal clamps. “Please, I have to—”

She knew he wasn’t fully awake, she’d encountered this sleepy, half cognizant Steve before. Usually, he was soft and gentle and smiled at her. This one grumbled and repeated his possession of her, holding tight.

Finally, Peggy could take it no more. She kicked him between the legs, hard, and scrambled to the edge of the bed when he loosened his grip. She didn’t make it to the bathroom, but managed to vomit on the floor, avoiding ruining the bed.

By the time she turned back he was wide awake, pressed up on his elbow, eyes clearer than she’d seen them in hours. She wiped at her lips with the back of her hand, kicking her way out of the blankets and climbing out of the bed from the bottom, avoiding looking at him.

“Peggy…” He sat, still confused, “what…”

She nearly ran from the room, making it to the bathroom just in the nick of time. When there was nothing left to come back up, she flushed the toilet and rinsed her mouth before heading back to the bedroom.

The lights were on and Steve was drying the floor where he’d cleaned up her mess. He stopped and stood when she leaned on the doorjamb, spent. “Peggy, I’m so sorry.” He looked down at the towel in his hand and then tossed it over by the laundry bag before looking up to her, his blue eyes full of confusion and sadness. “I’ll call Howard right now.”

She nodded, hands still shaking a bit from vomiting. “I’m going to make a cup—”

“I’ve got it,” he said quickly, moving to her and pressing a kiss to her hair before lifting her from her feet and setting her on the bed. “Lay down, I’ll bring it in after I’ve called Howard.”

She watched him go, tears pricking at the back of her eyes. She wanted to argue, but he seemed clearer, more like himself, and she was afraid to open up whatever Pandora’s Box was behind his need to take care of her, at least until Howard got there.

Peggy slipped back into bed, building the pillows up behind her. She might be better, but that meant nothing if Steve was worse.

#Steggy Fic #Steggybingobash #3P's Fic #Now Featuring 100% more Feral!Steve

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animemangasoul · 5 years ago

Text

We Parted Ways A Long Time Ago

Summery: Lucius Fox is Tim's emergency contact number.

In which Bruce and Tim have drifted apart and Bruce doesn't realize it until it's a little too late

Chapter: 2/4

Bruce didn’t know for how long he’d been sitting in his office, slowly going through article after article about the Wayne Enterprise CEO.

What had originally started off as a casual information gathering had slowly turned into an unhealthy obsession.

Scanning his eyes over the latest article, Bruce almost clenched his fists, brows furrowing as his eyes rested on the smiling image of his son. The article was talking about some kind of project meant to help low-income students around the poverty stricken areas of Gotham and while honest pride bloomed in his chest knowing that his son was carrying on the work he’d started long ago, any sense of joy he got from the praising words were promptly swallowed up by the man standing next to Tim.

Lucius Fox had an arm around Tim shoulders, smiling brightly at the cameras as he for all intent and purpose looked at home next to his son. The pride radiating off of the man torturously close to what Bruce had feeling not even a second ago.

Breathing in deeply, he clicked out of it. Hesitating only slightly before typing both names in Google and clicking on images and....

Swallowing down the bile suddenly rising up his throat, Bruce carefully eyed the many stills of his son next to Lucius. From charity meetings, press conferences to less formal events such as a park outings with the rest of the Fox family or a dinner at that fancy restaurant Bruce vaguely remembers Tim raving on about; subtly needling him to take him there sometime. ‘Doesn’t this place look great Bruce! Wouldn’t it be nice to go there sometime?’

They never did.

Stomach lurching at the sight, he quickly skips through the restaurant pictures, fingers almost shaking... almost. Because... Tim looked so happy. Face open, eyes glowing and in every other captured moment he is invading someone’s space. Whether he’s leaning into Lucius calming touch or resting his head on Luke’s shoulder trying to get a glimpse of whatever he was doing on his phone or smiling amusedly at Tam.

There were so many tender, intimate moments between his Tim and Lucius family and it made Bruce grit his teeth.

Fists finally clenching till crescent moons marred his skin.

It... he didn’t understand. Tim didn’t like being touched. He was always so distant and withdrawn. Always stiffening at the slightest brush of skin. He was such a lone wolf. Everyone knew that, so why.... why did these ‘moments’ look so natural to him. It was as if Tim was relishing in the attention, practically soaking in the close proximity of the Fox family, and how could that be in character?

It didn’t make any sense.

Tim was....

But then he remembers Dick.

Remembers how his oldest had always managed to draw out those special little smiles out of his younger. Remembers how Dick was allowed to hug Tim. Was allowed to wrap his arms around him and how Tim melted into the contact. Dick had called it hug therapy. Practically flinging himself on the shorter teen every time he saw him till Tim was naturally reciprocating the affection instead of freezing up.

Dick was the one to bring Tim out of his shell.

And for the longest time he’d been the only one. Even Bruce, with all the years he’d had with Tim hadn’t managed to make his son comfortable enough to let down all his guards. Sure he saw glimpses of who Tim could have been whenever he was too sleep deprived to pretend he didn’t need anyone, but while those moments were precious, they occurred very rarely.

But here Tim was, being basically Tim’s version of attached and it made something ache within Bruce that he couldn’t quiet put into words.

Was it so easy to win over his son?

Shutting off the screen abruptly he breathed deeply and closed his eyes.

Leaning back, Bruce rubbed at his forehead, trying to banish the throbbing headache blooming at the back of his mind.

What time was it even?

Gaze drifting to the grandfather clock by the corner he sighed.

Still a bit left to go before he could go get his son.

The itch prickling under his skin didn’t seem to get the memo though, because all Bruce wanted to do right now was drive over to that lonely apartment near crime alley and bring his son home.

This wasn’t just about dinner.

Sure, that’s what he told Tim. But Bruce knew one dinner wasn’t going to salvage what had been broken in their relationship. He needed to reopen the doors of communication and he couldn’t do that with only one measly dinner together.

The pitfall stretching wide and deep between them may have been partly Bruce’s fault, but Tim wasn’t without his fair sheer of blame either. If his son had just reached out to him. Sought his companionship like he used to. Talked to him, connected with him, Bruce was sure he would have welcomed him with open arms.

But Tim.... Tim had chosen to be swept away into the shadow of someone else’s family and Bruce just.... he didn’t understand.

Tim was his son. His son. Lucius didn’t have the right to.....

Sighing, he ran a couple of fingers through his hair. It didn’t matter now. Bruce was the parent. He was the only one who could fix this. Tim just needed someone to tell him that he still had a place here, beside him, and Bruce could do that.

He’d done it for Jason and Damian and Dick. Cass hadn’t needed him to, but if she had, he would have done the same for her.

That’s why this dinner wasn’t just a dinner. If Bruce planned this just right, he was sure he could convince Tim to stay the night. He’d already asked Alfred to prepare Tim’s old bedroom for him and....

The way the old butler's eyes had lit up, face almost breaking into a smile, before nodding hastily and walking away. “Everything will be ready for when the young Master arrives,” he’d said in parting. “Make sure to inform him that I have prepared his favorite coffee cake. God knows that child needs to gain a bit of weight back.”

Alfred hadn’t made any such thing. But he would. For Tim.

Alfred most have missed him too.

Couldn’t his son see what he was doing? Didn’t he understand that just because everyone had been busy, it didn’t mean they didn’t care?

Rubbing a tired hand down his neck, Bruce finally let his eyes rest on the picture frames decorating his desk.

The first one was of him and Dick when his oldest was just the tiniest little thing. The adoring smile his son was directing at him; arms wrapped around his neck as Bruce was in the process of swinging him around warmed his heart. He’d framed the picture the minute Alfred had handed him the envelop and it remained one of his much-cherished possessions, where it stood next to the picture frame of his parents.

Next to the two was the one taken after Jason’s adoption and after that, well, at least twenty more that were taken in the span of the next couple of years were added to the mix.

All of them gifted to him by Tim.

His son having captured so many precious moments between him and his children. Hell, there was even one of him and Steph. The girl explaining something excitedly and him smiling down at her; lips quirking up in amusement.

Running a finger over Damain’s adoring face, Bruce couldn’t help but smile at his youngest. How Tim had caught Damian off guard without the other noticing him Bruce would never know. But he would forever be grateful.

As he silently observes each and every memory framed physically in front of him, his eyes slowly start to shift from side to side. A tiny frown pulling at his lips and then he’s leaning forward, picking up one frame after the other; pushing a few aside to get to those at the back but.... nothing. There isn’t one.

Tim isn’t in any of these.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true.

He was in two of them. But one was taken shakily by what appeared to be Cass’s phone as the girl pressed her cheek into Tim’s hair; both of them grinning up at the camera. And another of her and Tim yet again but this time his son was sleeping and Cass nestling into his side as she took the picture.

Both of these photos had been given to him by his daughter. She’d quietly stepped into his office weeks ago. Bruce could distinctly remember it now, now that he was trying to recall the details. She’d placed two new frames on his desk, kissed his forehead and left.

He hadn’t thought much of it.... but....

The fact that Tim wasn’t in any of these..... The fact that there were so many and Tim wasn’t in any of them.

Bruce was sure Dick had a couple of photos of him and Tim, right? He was sure. The oldest loved taking pictures of the three of them back in the day. He was constantly in need of capturing ‘cute’ things, so he had to have some.

Yes, he most have. Tim and Dick might not be as close as they used to; mainly because his younger was always too busy and Dick had his hands full with Damian, but they were still close so Dick surely had endearing pictures of his son.

“I’ll ask him tomorrow,” he muttered to himself, leaning back and standing up. It wasn’t right that out of the twenty so photos on his desk only two contained Tim. It.....

Freezing as an idea struck him, Bruce sat back down and turned on the computer screen.

Six minutes later he’d printed out a picture of him and Tim. Both in business attires and sure Bruce was wearing his Brucie mask, staying in character for the media, but Tim was leaning into him for support in this picture; face almost mushed into his side as his son was fighting against sleep and..... his heart twitched at the innocence.

It was just after he’d come back, Bruce remembered. Before life swept him away.

He’d gone to the company needing Tim’s help to reorganize his case files and he’d found his son half asleep across the floor.

He’d been so incredibly endeared, because, it had just struck him then that no matter what changed, certain things would remain the same. Certain things being Tim and his workaholic tendency.

So he’d picked his kid up, helped him into his coat and lead him out the building. Of course they’d been met with flashes of cameras and shouted questions but his son had been none the wiser, leaning even closer to his body heat, muttering nonsense under his breath and shoving his face into his chest.

Bruce chest ached at the memory.

Reaching into the left drawer; eyes refusing to leave Tim’s face, he fumbled until his fingers wrapped around a pair of scissors.

Cutting away the unnecessary corners he gently put the photo down before picking up a frame, staring at it for a second, eyes drinking in the picture of him sitting between Dick and Damian, both boys prattling on about something while he indulgently smiled at them.

Sighing, he pulled it out of the frame, carefully putting the picture to the side and inserting in the new one. Satisfied he put the photo next to the others.

It wasn’t exactly as informal and familial as the others. Hadn’t been taken with warmth and love but it showed warmth and love didn’t it?

That should be enough.

It was enough.

Standing up he looked at the picture one last time and then stepped past the desk and walked out the door.

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

“Where are you going father. Pennyworth says that dinner is in ninety minutes.”

Bruce paused at the entrance. Hand resting on the doorknob.

“I’m picking up Tim. He’s going to stay with us for a while.”

A pause and then.... “Why?” Bruce slowly turned around. He’d wanted to leave without creating any fuzz; knowing that he’s youngest would be the least happy about this new arrangement, but alas, there was no avoiding this conversation now.

“He’s sick and needs to rest. Spending some time here at the manor might do him some good.”

Damian crossed his arms; nose scrunching up in displeasure. “Can he not do that at his own apartment? Why most he come here?” Glaring petulantly, he clicked his tongue. “We don’t need a useless person taking up space father.” Bruce frowned.

Sure Damian had mellowed out the past couple of months, but unfortunately Tim still managed to bring out his more.... childish side.

Briefly Bruce contemplated telling him off.

Wasn’t this what Tim had been complaining about? His reason for not wanting to stay with them? But then again....

Shaking his head Bruce sighed. “The manor is big enough for all of us,” he said softly, giving his son a meaningful look. “There is no need to worry about space.”

Dick had told him how fragile Damain’s confidence was.

His son being afraid of facing rejection if he committed the slightest misbehavior. Bruce hadn’t seen it, but Dick knew his son so well and “Insults are the only way he knows how to express himself,” his oldest had said shrugging helplessly. “And it’s how he checks whether we lash out at him or not. And we can’t do that to him Bruce. We can’t take away the only form of self-expression he has. He's scared we’ll get tired of him or think he’s too damaged to fit in with our family so whenever he speaks out, we..... I’m just grateful he’s willing to open up to us.”

“What about the replacement,” Jason had asked. Lounging in the chair next to them, raising a thin brow of bemusement. “Cuz that’s who the kid always targets.”

“Tim is older,” Dick had answered. “He understands. We talked about it and he agreed with me that Damian needed to feel comfortable and accepted.”

Jason had snorted, popping out of his chair and walking away. “Sure he did,” he said, dragging out the words. “Sure he did.”

Shaking away the memories Bruce smiled down at his son; just a tiny flick of the corner of his mouth, but Damian immediately straightened out, his own lips quirking up in turn.

Perhaps Jason had a point, perhaps not. But Bruce had come so far with Damian. Dick had come so far with Damian.

He refused to be the one who stunted his son’s growth and he was sure Tim must have felt the same. His second youngest having always had a way of understanding others that most of the others lacked.

And Damian never meant much harm with what he said; most of his comment coming from his own insecurities, so Bruce hoped Tim would eventually be able to get over it too and begin to accept Damian for who he was and not for who Tim thought him to be.

“Your leg healed up?”

Startling back, Damian took a second to just stare up at him before nodding jerkily. “Yes father.”

“Good,” Bruce said, turning to face the door. “You can resume your nightly activities with me tonight.”

He doesn’t wait for the kid’s excited reply before he’s out the door and making his way down to the garage.

He needed to get to Tim’s apartment

It was time to pick up his son and Bruce had to make sure the kid packed enough to stay over for at least a couple of days. If he planned it right, Tim would be settled in enough that he wouldn’t find the need to move out again and Dick or Jason could pick up the rest of his things afterwards.

Tim just needed time to readjust to the manor and if Bruce played his cards right, Tim would be settled in before he even knew it and then.... Then they could be a family again.

It lightened his heart knowing that all his children would finally be under the same roof.

The end

@miss-choco-chips Bruce out here raising so many red flags. He is so possessive while ignoring Tim’s feelings and opinions.

@throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen next chapter be here!!!!

#bruce wayne #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #Batfamily Fanfic #batfam fic #batsiblings fic #red robin fanfic #batman #robin #batfamily #happytim au

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spacedancer1701 · 5 years ago

Text

Another Life - a Star Trek fic - (Chapters 51 - 55)

Sequel to ‘On Borrowed Time’

Fandoms: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series (TOS), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (AOS) Pairing: McCoy x Original Female Character (Dr. Jennifer Hope) Characters: The Crew of the USS Enterprise (NCC-1701) Rating/Warnings: None Tags: Romance, Friendship, Love, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Angst/H/C, Caring/Protective/Tender/Comforting/Happy/Grumpy/Worried McCoy Word Count: This is a long one. Again. 😄 (71 chapters - 177k)

Read it on AO3: Another Life

Chapter 51

As soon as the Enterprise had taken up orbit around Iridis, Hope and McCoy beamed down to the governmental emergency camp, far enough away from the battle zone to be safe from radiation. The doctor had brought as many relevant medical supplies and tools as he’d been able to justify taking from the Enterprise, which the Iridians gratefully accepted. With time being of the essence, Hope and McCoy were promptly briefed on the current situation and handed their protection suits, before being transported to the most recent bomb site.

McCoy didn’t see much of Hope after that, him being put in charge of the main surgical team, and her being recruited for the search and rescue team. With all that was going on amidst the chaos and devastation, the doctor had his hands full from the moment they arrived, and there was simply no time to worry about her. He was still relieved, though, when, a few hours later, he caught a brief glimpse of her, immediately recognising her in her slightly too big protection suit as she tenderly cradled a dying child in her arms, the heart-breaking image forever etched into his mind and his soul.

When he saw Hope again, almost twenty hours later, after having been decontaminated and transported back to the camp for the compulsory rest period, she was grey-faced and shaking with horror and fatigue. And when she looked at him as if daring him to say, ‘I told you so’, he just wordlessly took her in his arms, holding her tight as they both silently wept for the innocent victims of this obnoxious war.

They still didn’t speak as they made their way to their allocated ‘sleeping cubicle’, grabbing a couple of nutrition bars and water bottles on the way, and, completely shattered, fell on a bunk, not even considering separate beds for the few hours of sleep.

“Talk to me, love,” McCoy said softly, cradling Hope’s trembling body in his arms and taking her hand in his, remembering all the missions where he’d held her hand to go to sleep, which seemed like a lifetime ago.

“I’m fine, Leonard, go to sleep,” Hope mumbled tiredly, her words slurred from exhaustion.

“No, you’re not,” the doctor insisted, pained by her obvious distress and trying to fight his own fatigue. “You need to talk about this, love. Don’t bottle it up, please!”

“And you need to sleep. We both do,” was her short reply, her voice quivering in time with her body.

“There’s no satisfaction in having been right, you know,” the doctor murmured softly, his heart breaking as he pulled her closer against his chest. “You don’t have to pretend you’re not shocked to the core. When I said this would break you and I wouldn’t have time to look after of you, I didn’t mean I wouldn’t be there for you. That you couldn’t let me see how it affects you.”

“I’m so sorry, Leonard,” Hope burst out, clinging to him tightly, her voice choked with anguish. “You were right. I didn’t have the faintest idea how terrible it would be. You just wanted to protect me. Like you always do. But I’m not sorry I came. How could I not have come? Even if it only makes the slightest difference.”

“I’m sorry, too,” McCoy said quietly, caressing her back and resting his cheek against the top of her head. “But I’m also glad you came. We do whatever we can to save as many kids as possible, and yet, it’s still too little too late for so many of them. But if your being here means that even just one child is found that wouldn’t have been found otherwise, or that at least some of the kids who are beyond saving don’t have to die alone but in someone’s loving arms instead, it makes a huge difference.”

The doctor’s voice broke and angry, desperate tears started streaming down his face.

“We’ll get through this together, love,” he whispered. “I’m really grateful you’re here. I need you by my side.”

They both fell silent, just holding each other tightly and drawing comfort from the other’s presence.

Exactly as it should be, Jenny thought lovingly, before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

-x-x-x-x-x-

The next day was a repeat of the first, and so was the day after that, leaving Jenny and McCoy ever more exhausted and frustrated.

Enough! Jenny thought, fighting against her growing lethargy and hopelessness. Something has to be done. We’re Starfleet officers, for heaven’s sake! We have the power, and the responsibility, to change things!

McCoy was up to his neck in fighting to save lives, so finding a solution on a grander scale was left to her. She’d have to find a way to convince the Iridians of re-joining the Federation. Or at least ask for their help. Besides, the Enterprise couldn't stay in orbit around Iridis forever, in fact, three days were about the maximum Kirk could justify. After that, he’d have to take the ship away and leave her and the doctor stranded here for the time being.

But having the Enterprise of all starships at their disposal was the best thing that could have happened to the Iridians, Jenny realised. They should really take advantage of that. She had to make them see reason.

So, Jenny contacted the captain, told him of her plan, and was grateful to get both his and Spock’s valuable advice on how best to proceed. Spock provided her with all the data she needed, and told her who to try and contact, while Kirk coached her on what to say and how best to go about persuading the Iridians to officially request the Federation’s assistance.

Jenny didn’t discuss any of this with McCoy. Before falling asleep, she just told him that she’d been talking to Kirk and would be meeting some Iridian officials the next day, which he acknowledged with a tired grunt but didn’t question any further. He was totally focused on the medical side of things, as he should be, and really needed all the sleep he could get.

Witnessing Leonard’s utter devotion to his job as a healer never failed to melt Jenny’s heart and remind her of how much she loved him. And seeing the tiny sparks of joy for every life he’d saved shine through his general air of despair at not being able to stop all the horror and devastation around them, reassured her that he was still a long way from giving up or breaking down.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Kirk had been relieved to hear from Hope, and was very supportive, if a little doubtful, of her plan to get the Iridian government to consider re-joining the Federation. The condensed version she’d given them of the situation she and McCoy were finding themselves in had been enough to make the captain’s hair stand on end, and he’d been more than happy to share his thoughts on how best to approach the Iridian officials, promising to stand by in case the Iridians wanted to negotiate.

So, knowing Hope, Kirk wasn’t completely surprised when he and Spock were asked to beam down to meet with the Iridian government early the next afternoon. His head of linguistics was certainly a force to be reckoned with, he thought proudly, feeling sorry for anyone who’d underestimate Hope because of her youth or delicate appearance.

Obviously, Hope had got the government officials to agree that being part of the Federation, even if it meant an infringement on their ‘absolute freedom’, was preferable to being all alone and vulnerable, exposed to ruthless attacks like the one they were currently experiencing.

Her reasoning was almost instantly proven right, when even just the news of Kirk’s visit to the government and the Enterprise’s presence in orbit led to an immediate cessation of hostilities. The cowardly rebels apparently didn’t want to take on the Federation. And Captain Kirk was quite obviously a man whom a certain reputation preceded. The stories of his many victories over hostile aggressors were well known all around the galaxy.

Unfortunately, with the Enterprise now officially in the picture, one of the rebel leaders had acted fast and successfully fled Iridis, but Kirk was confident that he wouldn’t get far. His identity was known, and, being one of the most wanted criminals of the galaxy already, it was only a matter of time until he’d be apprehended.

As for the second leader and the co-conspirators, the captain got word of them having turned themselves in before he’d even left the negotiating table. Satisfied with the outcome of his talks with the Iridian government, and immensely happy to know that Bones was finally out of danger again, Kirk requested to wait for his friend’s return at the emergency camp to give him the good news in person. And to reassure himself that the doctor was – at least physically – unharmed.

-x-x-x-x-x-

When McCoy returned to the camp after yet another horrible day knee deep in severely injured patients, most of them children, he was too exhausted to even feel the rage that usually claimed him as soon as his thoughts weren’t fully focused on his job anymore. But when he spotted Jim waiting for him, his heart almost stopped, immediately thinking that his friend was here because something terrible had happened to Hope.

It took his weary eyes and mind a few moments to take in Kirk’s beaming smile, suggesting that the captain had quite obviously come bearing good news, whatever they were, and his legs almost gave out with the sheer relief of that realisation. Jim had to reach out and steady him, his wide grin giving way to a worried frown at the doctor’s dizzy spell, but McCoy quickly waved his concerns away, sitting down in the nearest chair and gruffly demanding to know what Kirk was doing here.

One of the other doctors, who’d just returned with him, handed him a bottle of water as well as a bag of nuts, which McCoy gratefully accepted, before settling back and listening intently as Jim explained that the Iridians had finally asked the Federation for help, and that the attacks were over.

The doctor felt a weight being lifted off his shoulders. There would be no more victims, robbed of any future. No more watching innocent kids suffer and die, no more ghastly injuries that he knew, even as he treated them, would never fully heal, no more saving children from death while knowing they’d never be able to lead normal, painless lives again. It was only when Kirk handed him a tissue and patted his shoulder, that he noticed the tears running down his face.

“How did you manage to do that, Jim?” McCoy asked, impressed, as always, by his friend’s unsurpassed resourcefulness and diplomatic skills.

“I didn’t! Your girlfriend did,” Kirk grinned, to the doctor’s surprise, and McCoy’s heart melted at the pride in the captain’s voice and eyes.

Jim went on to tell him the whole story, finishing enthusiastically with, “She made this happen, Bones! She effectively stopped this war. Hope’s a hell of a Starfleet officer, and more than a little manipulative if she sets her mind to it.”

That made McCoy chuckle, knowing exactly how ‘manipulative’ Hope could be. No matter how annoyed he was with her, he simply couldn't stay angry, when she remorsefully fluttered her eyelashes at him. And her puppy-dog looks certainly made it impossible for him to deny her anything. He was just glad Jenny was such a good person and would never take advantage of the power she held over him. At least not where it wasn’t appropriate.

“Really, Bones, Hope is brilliant,” Kirk went on fervently, and the doctor could see that the captain, despite being prone to exaggeration, meant it. “And courageous as hell. She’s definitely going places.”

“I never doubted that,” McCoy smiled, feeling prouder than ever of the woman he was lucky enough to share his life with.

“Good thing you’re such a great team,” the captain continued more quietly, looking straight into McCoy’s eyes, his expression growing serious. “Because she sure isn’t going anywhere without you. She loves you with all her heart, Bones. I hope you know how much she adores and admires you. She asked for leave just to be here with you, and damn the consequences. Did you know that?”

“I guessed as much,” the doctor replied softly, thinking that, of course, he’d known that Jim couldn't actually have sent her, but only just realising the full implications of her decision to come with him.

Kirk must have seen the amazement on McCoy’s face, as he suddenly started to grin and clapped a friendly hand on the doctor’s back.

“You’re one lucky bastard, Bones,” the captain laughed, fondly shaking his head. “And you more than deserve it. Just, please, don’t ever let her go again. Or drive her away because you think she deserves better or something. You were made for each other. Anyone can see that. You bring out each other’s full potential. There have never been two people better suited for a long and happy life together.”

-x-x-x-x-x-

McCoy and Hope stayed on Iridis for another two days, the doctor refusing to leave before having made sure that every last patient was safe and got the best possible treatment, and Jenny refusing to leave his side.

When they finally returned to the Enterprise, totally worn out but immensely relieved, they went straight to McCoy’s quarters and slept for ten hours straight. By the time they woke up again, it was the middle of the night on the ship.

They knew they should talk. There was certainly a lot to talk about, to help each other cope with everything they’d seen. But they didn’t feel like talking at all. Not just yet. All they wanted in that moment was to feel the warmth and comfort of being alive and together. To make love and forget about everything else.

And that’s exactly what they did. Although not quite the way they usually celebrated their love and enjoyed each other’s bodies. Not hot, not passionate, no teasing, no games. Nothing wild or ecstatic, just slow, and soft, and tender. Quietly, and silently, drawing comfort from each other, finding pleasure in their reassuring closeness rather than in unbridled desire. And once again, in perfect accord with each other on what they wanted and needed.

Chapter 52

A/N: As you’ve probably guessed by now, I’m as passionate about music and dancing as Hope is. 😊 There’s a lot of music from Hope’s past mentioned in this chapter, and if you’d like to have the ‘soundtrack’, I’ve put together a ��playlist’ at the end of chapter 52.

Jenny and McCoy resumed their duties the next day. She felt it would do her good to go back to her normal routine, and the doctor supported her suggestion. He insisted, however, that they talk about everything in the evening. Properly and at length. He understood that she didn’t want to dwell all day on the atrocities she’d seen, but was convinced that the quickest way to put the traumatic experience behind them was to actively deal with it instead of letting it fester at the back of their minds.

So they talked, and cried, and held each other for half of the next couple of nights, and Jenny had to admit that she really felt lighter with every memory she shared with Leonard. Although she seemed to do a lot more of the sharing than he did. In typical McCoy manner, he’d made it all about her. Yet, she sensed that it was therapy for him just as much as it was for her.

The doctor just couldn't help it, he always needed to be – or at least pretend to be – strong. Strong for her, to make her feel safe and cared for. And she did, for which she loved him. Just as she loved him for the unfailing gentleness with which he coaxed things out of her. But she was also quite aware that it was his coping mechanism as much as anything else. Being strong for others was his very own way of dealing with trauma.

Of course, Jenny knew that Leonard had a lot more experience than she had, that he’d seen horror and devastation like they’d encountered on Iridis before, maybe even worse. But she also knew that it still affected him immensely. Probably just as much as the first time. Hard-bitten and cynical as he liked to present himself to the world, Jenny knew him better. Behind all the talk, underneath all the professionalism, he was the most sensitive and empathetic man imaginable. Another one of the many reasons she loved him so much.

Half a week after their return to the Enterprise, Jenny finally felt positivity starting to fill her soul again. Seeing the beauty of things, feeling optimistic and confident again. And, above all, allowing herself to feel proud of having had a part in ending this atrocious war on Iridis. A fact that Kirk and McCoy didn’t hold back on and reminded her several times a day.

“You’re an awesome lady!” currently seemed to be the doctor’s favourite phrase, always delivered with a wondrous shake of his head and eternal love and admiration in his eyes. And even though Jenny knew that Leonard was biased and enjoyed few things more than boosting her confidence, hearing these words of praise from him was still music to her ears.

-x-x-x-x-x-

During her days of grief and dealing with the aftermath of Iridis, Jenny’s friends had kept a respectful distance, realising that she wasn’t yet ready to sing, or dance, or generally enjoy herself again. But as soon as they noticed her changing back to her old, cheerful self, Uhura practically pounced on her, eager to make that party she’d promised happen.

It had obviously been extremely hard for Nyota to wait that long, but seeing that after what Jenny had been through partying was not the most appropriate thing to do, she’d managed to restrain herself. Now, however, Uhura was adamant to get the party rolling as soon as possible.

“Nothing better to cheer you up than an evening full of music and dancing. Of letting your hair down,” she beamed, and Jenny had to admit that Nyota was right. She could definitely do with a party like that now.

As it turned out, the surprise Uhura and Spock had been working on was a massive compilation of rock, pop, and country songs from the late 1900s. It was an impressive collection of songs, most of which Jenny hadn’t heard since her ‘first life’. How they’d even managed to get their hands on all these tracks was a miracle to her. A miracle which she gave Spock most of the credit for. He was an incredible – and incredibly resourceful – researcher. It must have been nearly impossible, a true labour of love – love for her, in this case, and Jenny deeply appreciated it.

Music had always been an important factor in her life, practically all of her memories, the good ones as well as the bad ones, came with their own ‘soundtrack’. She’d often talked about this with Uhura, who felt very similar about music, and had quite obviously been the driving force behind this project.

Jenny was so overwhelmed when they handed her their gift in form of a record tape, she couldn't stop hugging and kissing Nyota. Or beaming at Spock like a goon, trusting that, the way she knew him by now, he didn’t mind, and even secretly enjoyed her display of overjoyed gratitude.

She was just glad that she’d had the foresight to teach anyone interested a lot of dance moves and styles from that era, and that Chekov, as well as a lot of her friends, knew how to do ‘The Hustle’ or ‘Disco Fox’. Now that she had all those songs at her disposal, this was going to be the party of her life.

Jenny just couldn't wait for evening to come, overwhelmed with joy, anticipation, and a feeling of immense gratitude and love for Uhura and Spock to have put in all those hours just to make her happy. She was truly blessed with her friends. And with the man in her life, who stoically endured her excited babbling and general display of unrestrained exhilaration for hours, the indulgent smile and loving gaze never leaving his face.

-x-x-x-x-x-

McCoy couldn't get enough of watching Hope dancing and moving to the music, completely lost in the rhythm, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Sitting next to Jim and Scotty, nursing a drink, he was immensely glad to see her in such high spirits again.

Only someone who’d seen similar horror could understand how an experience like Iridis affected your whole being, invading every waking thought the moment you stopped focusing on your job or some other urgent matter, and even following you into your dreams. Of course, the doctor hadn’t told Hope that, no matter how often you saw horrors like these, you never got used to them.

When she’d arranged to come with him, he’d been so scared that her gentle, innocent soul would take permanent damage, but he’d once again underestimated Hope’s strength. Yes, she’d been upset, shocked, horrified by the whole experience, but by taking action and helping to end the terror, she’d turned it into something meaningful, something she could live with and even be proud of. He certainly was.

Looking at her now, McCoy couldn't remember ever seeing her happier. Or more hyped up. His heart was soaring just watching her. She’d always been an incredible dancer, but tonight, every song seemed to have its own choreography. And it probably had, since these were all her songs. Songs she’d grown up with, and which Spock and Uhura had painstakingly researched and accumulated for her.

Just the memory of Hope’s delighted squeals, when she’d skipped through the list of songs that her friends had surprised her with this afternoon, put a fond smile on the doctor’s face. Uhura hadn’t even tried to hide her excitement over their gift. But McCoy could have sworn that he’d detected delight in Spock's eyes too.

The long list of names, singers and bands most of which the doctor had never heard of, had certainly made Hope’s day, and she’d reverently kept murmuring them to herself, like a mantra, while they’d got ready for the party.

“This is going to be just like one of my high school parties!” Hope had gushed, grinning from ear to ear, her delight contagious. “I can’t believe I’ll be dancing to all those Bryan Adams and Bruce Springsteen songs again. Or to Gloria Gaynor and Michael Jackson. And there’ll be Rod Stewart, Elton John, Phil Collins, too! I’m just glad I taught half the ship how to properly disco dance!”

While they’d got dressed, Hope had kept running to him for kisses, or hugs, or just to beam at him, all the time, her happiness tangible, and McCoy hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her ever since.

Right now, she was dancing, or rather bouncing to ‘I Am What I Am’. He’d never heard the original version until now, but Hope had performed this with the band on several occasions, and he’d always thought the song suited her perfectly. She and Uhura appeared as powerful as the words of the song, their dance moves simply mesmerising to watch.

The next song was ‘I Will Survive’ by the same singer, and McCoy saw Hope almost bubbling over with energy. Another perfect song for her, although – hopefully – not quite in the context of the lyrics. But there was no question that Hope was a true survivor. Even though in her skin-tight jeans, white crop top, flats and ponytail, she looked more like the high school girl she’d mentioned earlier, sweet, young, and vulnerable, making him feel even more protective of her than he usually did.

Thinking of her as a high school girl, McCoy was gripped by another strange feeling. Almost like jealousy. But not of a particular person. More of memories he could never share. A whole life he could never share. A world he could never see. Loving her as he did, he wanted to know everything about her, but that just wasn’t possible. Not that he’d tell her, of course. He wasn’t proud of these jealous feelings only ever she seemed to bring out in him. Although she probably knew him well enough to notice them anyway.

Hope had been dancing for two hours straight already, just taking a short break when someone offered her a drink. He’d never known anyone more energetic than her. Once again, McCoy was reminded of their age difference. It was so obvious. Her energy seemed to be never-ending. And while he was certainly fit for his age, he was clearly no match for Hope’s level of fitness. But then, few people were. He’d probably have had a hard time keeping up with her when he’d actually been her age.

Casting a quick glance at Jim, who was trying to have a conversation with Scotty over the almost deafening music, the doctor took a sip from his drink, his old doubts arising again. Did he really have a right to love her? To want her to spend the rest of her life with him, an old divorcee? To rob her of the chance to find someone her own age, someone as full of energy as she was? Someone with a brilliant career still ahead of them, just like her?

He’d been through this a million times in his head. Had asked himself the same questions over and over again. And the answer was always the same.

Yes!

Yes, he had every right. Because, unfathomable and perplexing as it was, he made her happy. He truly did. And she’d told him time and again that they didn’t have to do everything together all of the time. That he didn’t have to come dancing with her if he was tired after a long day. That it was perfectly all right to do separate things. That she didn’t expect them, didn’t even want them to be joined at the hip, as she’d put it.

Unlike his ex-wife, she trusted him completely, and didn’t mind if he couldn't or wouldn’t join her in all her activities. She wasn’t bothered if he did his own thing, disappeared into the depths of a lab, was engrossed in a medical journal or a thrilling history book, or even just met up with friends without her. Quite the contrary, she enjoyed having her own life. And he had to admit that that suited him just fine. Especially on a starship, where everyone seemed to live in one another’s pockets anyway, it was actually quite nice to have something interesting to tell each other in the evenings.

The music was quietening down a little, McCoy noticed, as the lights, which had been dimmed all evening, started to fade even more. Not in volume, unfortunately, but the next song was definitely slower.

‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You’ was sounding from the speakers, and Hope’s gaze met his, the undisguised love in her eyes almost taking his breath away. Trust her to immediately look at him, when the lyrics of a song ‘demanded’ it. And, boy, that song was beautiful, the words going straight to his heart. And to other parts of his body, too. He certainly couldn't take his eyes off her. And she was definitely ‘too good to be true’ as well as ‘heaven to touch’.

The two of them stared into each other’s eyes across the dimly lit space, and the doctor’s heart just melted knowing that Hope had eyes only for him, even when she was dancing with someone else.

“Very subtle Bones!” Jim’s voice suddenly rang in his ear, as the captain shouted over the hubbub, breaking the spell and reminding him that his relationship with Hope was actually still a secret.

McCoy quickly looked away, and straight into Kirk’s grinning face.

“Not sure, you’re actually still fooling anyone, but if you keep staring at her like that, you might as well make a ship-wide announcement,” the captain laughed, then smilingly shook his head when Scotty asked him to repeat what he’d just said, because he hadn’t been able to hear him over the din, as he called it.

The doctor snorted into his glass, then asked Scotty why he wasn’t on the dancefloor, only to be completely taken aback when the chief of engineering put down his glass, shrugged, and got up, heading straight over to Hope, asking her to dance.

McCoy felt annoyingly miffed, watching Scotty’s arms wrap around Hope’s waist, only to be immediately mollified when she grinned at him over the engineer’s shoulder, motioning for him to listen to the song, which was obviously another favourite of hers.

‘Making Love Out of Nothing at All’. Oh, yes, Hope could certainly do that. ‘I know just where to touch you’. God, had she just winked at him? Of course, she had, the little minx. And she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

Scotty’s stunt at dancing lasted only one song before one of his young ensigns from engineering took over, the music turning even slower.

The sound of ‘Have I Told You Lately That I Love You?’ filled the whole deck, sending thrilling shivers down McCoy’s spine, and he was helpless to keep his eyes from meeting Hope’s again. Gazing deeply into each other’s eyes, the doctor didn’t even mind when he saw the ensign pulling her closer. Not much, anyway.

‘Fill my heart with gladness, take away all my sadness, ease my troubles, that’s what you do.’ He couldn't have put it better himself.

Thank you, Mr. Stewart, for writing a song about Hope and me, McCoy thought, feeling all soft and mellow inside.

Chekov took over from the other ensign, and the doctor saw a teasing smirk appear on Hope’s face as the first bars of the next song rang out, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she winked at him again. ‘Hey little girl is you daddy home?’ were the first words of the song, and he looked at her with mock irritation for poking fun at him like that. Really? Dancing with young Chekov to that song and teasing him about it? As if he weren’t feeling old enough already.

I sure am on fire, missy, McCoy thought, echoing the chorus of the song. And I’m so going to prove it to you tonight.

‘Nothing’s Gonna Change My Love for You’ was next, and as the song progressed, it seemed to him that Chekov was holding Hope just a tad too tight. And that kind of bothered him. A little. But the doctor found that he also felt a bit sorry for Chekov. It wasn’t his fault that he was so in love with Jenny. In fact, McCoy couldn't imagine anyone not being in love with her. Was the poor guy actually still hoping? Probably.

Hope threw the doctor a meaningful look when the next song started, urging him to listen to the lyrics of ‘I Want to Know What Love Is’. And he did. She knew him so well. Those were his exact feelings. A bit like the story of his life. A lonely life, in a way, despite all his friends, until he’d met her. There’d definitely been heartache and pain in his life, too. And now love had found him. Hope had found him.

Unable to contain his feelings any longer, McCoy got up and started towards the dancefloor. It was his turn to dance with her now. He needed to feel her close. And clearly seeing the infatuation on Chekov’s face, he was probably doing the young man a favour, too. Better bring him back to reality now, before he really had his heart broken.

The doctor knew that Hope had talked to Chekov about her feelings. Or non-feelings. And that she thought Pavel had understood and accepted the way things were between them. She just didn’t get that there was a huge gap between knowing and feeling. Only another man in love with her could really understand that giving up hope, or Hope, was simply impossible, and Chekov needed to be regularly reminded that he couldn't have her. Anything else would be cruel, even though Hope certainly didn’t mean to be.

However, just before McCoy could reach out to tap Chekov on the shoulder, this Michael Jackson guy and some other fellow started to sing ‘The Girl Is Mine’, stopping the doctor in his tracks, feeling ridiculous to claim Hope for exactly this dance. Looking at him from where she was still tightly ensconced in Chekov’s arms, Hope, of course, immediately caught on to his dilemma and started to giggle, just the sight of her happy, amused face instantly lifting his heart.

McCoy waited well into the next song, before finally taking over from Chekov. It hadn’t even been three hours since he’d last kissed Hope in his quarters, but it felt like an eternity to him. Talk about doing their own thing and not being joined at the hip. If he thought he could actually stay away from Hope for a serious amount of time, he was surely deceiving himself.

After she’d let go of Chekov, thanking him and turning towards McCoy, feeling her slide into his arms with such natural ease, made him feel as if he were floating. As if he’d been holding his breath for the longest time, and was finally able to breathe easy again.

‘Just the Way You Are’, another beautiful song. He certainly wouldn’t want Hope to change in any way. She was perfect. And what’s more, she loved him just the way he was, too. A fact that would never cease to amaze him.

“Billy Joel sure knows what he’s talking about,” Hope smiled, looking up at him and comfortably snuggling closer as they slowly moved to the music.

McCoy was suddenly feeling rather self-conscious. They’d never before been this kind of intimate in front of others, and he felt all eyes on them. Although he was probably just imagining it. But, almost drowning in Hope’s eyes, so beautiful, so full of love, he found that somehow, he didn’t even really care if they were the centre of attention.

The song morphed into another. ‘Can’t Fight This Feeling’. The doctor couldn't help chuckling to himself, when he found it another perfectly fitting song. Could this be coincidence? Spock of all people had volunteered to play DJ when Hope had announced that a DJ was absolutely necessary for this kind of party. Could Spock be doing this on purpose? To provoke him into something? Farfetched as it seemed, he wouldn’t put it past his Vulcan friend, who might be subtler than Jim, but was certainly no less of a meddler.

The next song was one McCoy knew well, and possibly Hope’s favourite country song of all times.

‘Amazed’, exactly what I am by her, the doctor thought lovingly, the familiar words seeming truer than ever. I couldn't express my feelings for her any better.

Unthinkingly, he pulled her even closer, moving like in a trance, completely losing himself in her. Everybody around them seemed to fade away, until it was just the two of them. Her head resting against his chest, her arms around his neck, he held her so tight, he was afraid he might squash her. Burying his face in her hair, eyes closed and breathing in her familiar scent, he thought he’d never wanted her more than he did at that very moment.

And just as he thought his heart would burst with love and desire, the first chords of another song he knew rang out. A classic, and definitely one of his own favourites. At least since he’d known Hope, who had performed it so many times. ‘To Make You Feel My Love’.

Hearing this song now, McCoy lost all sense of where he was, slowly moving, swaying to the rhythm, touching, inhaling, drinking in Hope, who was looking up at him now, her soulful eyes telling him how much she loved him, too. And before he knew what he was doing, just before the end of the song, his lips found hers to kiss her tenderly, hungrily, right there in front of everyone.

He heard people cheering and even applauding all around them. Of course, they’d only been waiting for him and Hope to ‘slip up’ and finally bring their relationship out into the open. And part of him registered joy at their crewmates’ obvious approval. But even if everyone were booing and hissing right now, he could never stop kissing her. Which she didn’t seem to mind at all. Matter of fact, she seemed just as eager as he was.

It was strange, they’d kissed a thousand times before, went to bed together every night and had done a million more intimate things already. And yet, McCoy was so used to being distant and acting respectably in public, this kiss almost felt like their first.

And to the sound of ‘Everything I Do, I Do It for You’, they just kept on swaying and kissing, and unabashedly showing their love for everyone to see. It felt great. More than that. It felt spectacular, and incredible, and amazing.

Oh yes, the doctor thought, gazing into Hope’s eyes and seeing right into her heart, Mr. Adams is absolutely right.

He’d do anything for Hope, give anything, including his life. Because there was no love like her love, nothing he wanted more, and certainly worth dying for. Because life without her had become unthinkable.

Playlist (chapter 52):

Gloria Gaynor – I Am What I Am

Gloria Gaynor – I Will Survive

Gloria Gaynor – Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You

Air Supply – Making Love Out of Nothing at All

Rod Stewart – Have I Told You Lately

Bruce Springsteen – I’m on Fire

Glenn Medeiros – Nothing’s Gonna Change My Love for You

Foreigner – I Want to Know What Love Is

Michael Jackson / Paul McCartney – The Girl Is Mine

Billy Joel – Just the Way You Are

REO Speedwagon – Can’t Fight This Feeling

Lonestar – Amazed

Garth Brooks (Bob Dylan) – To Make You Feel My Love

Bryan Adams – (Everything I Do) I Do It for You

Chapter 53

Jenny thought all her Christmases had come at once. Safely ensconced in McCoy’s strong and tender arms, at liberty to show the whole world how much she loved him, she was dancing to some of her favourite music, which she hadn’t heard in ages, and had been convinced never to hear again. If this was cloud nine, she definitely wanted to stay. That Leonard had decided – or at least allowed himself – to kiss her like this in front of everyone had surprised her in the most pleasant and delightful way.

She knew, of course, that the doctor had tried to keep their relationship secret for her sake, and not because he felt ashamed of her or wasn’t committed enough. But she realised that, actually for some time now, she’d felt secure enough in her role as Starfleet officer and department head, had actually started to make a name for herself already on the Lexington, to not be afraid of being branded as Dr. McCoy’s little protégé anymore.

And just the thought of not having to sneak in and out of his quarters any longer, or to have to stop herself from seeking or giving comfort in front of others when the situation called for it, was liberating beyond words. For the first time ever, she could simply be herself on the Enterprise, without having to choose every word and consider every move carefully.

She’d hated the secrecy when it had all been about her past, and then again, when she couldn't openly show her feelings for the wonderful doctor. But now she just couldn't stop grinning. Her friends’ reaction was terrific. And heart-warming. They all seemed to be so happy for them. So supportive. She was incredibly blessed indeed.

The music was suddenly turned down for an announcement of an incoming transmission from Starfleet to Captain Kirk, and the captain quickly disappeared out the door to take the call in private. When he returned a few minutes later, there was a disgruntled and almost worried frown on his face, and Jenny wondered what the call might have been about. Leonard kept throwing Kirk concerned glances, too, but got no reaction from his friend, who just put his party smile back in place and motioned for everyone to continue enjoying themselves.

McCoy pulled her close again, drawing her into another passionate kiss as the next slow song started, only to end up giggling against each other’s lips when Sulu started a chant of “Get a room!”, prompting the doctor to grab her by the hand, pull her towards the exit, and slyly tell his cheering crewmates, “You know, we just might!”

Once outside, they made their way to the CMO’s quarters in record time, laughing and chortling all the way, and Jenny had never felt lighter. Or happier. Or more in love. As soon as the doors had slid shut behind them, they stumbled towards the bed, blindly fumbling with each other’s clothes, their lips firmly connected in a fervent kiss once again.

After having teased and flirted with Leonard all evening, Jenny couldn't wait to be at his – or have him at her – mercy again, but something wasn’t quite right. She could feel that his heart wasn’t in it as much as it should. He almost seemed distracted.

“Are you worried about the captain?” she asked, pausing in her endeavours to rid him of his clothes.

“Why?” McCoy shot back a little too quickly, and Jenny could see a flicker of guilt cross his face.

“Well, he did seem rather preoccupied after the call from Starfleet, don’t you think?” she continued gently, hoping to convey that she understood his concern and wasn’t mad at him for worrying about his friend when, by rights, he should really only be focusing on her.

“You’re right, love,” the doctor sighed, looking at her apologetically, “he seemed really tense.”

“Do you want to go talk to him?” Jenny suggested softly. “Maybe he could do with a friend now.”

McCoy searched her face for a long moment, obviously trying to gauge if she was being serious.

“You need me, too, love,” he finally said, his kind eyes travelling all over her body and back to her face. “After all, I’ve just made our relationship official without so much as discussing it with you first.”

“And we can celebrate later,” Jenny beamed, planting a chaste kiss on his lips, then laughed, “Oh, Leonard, don’t look so conscious-stricken! I have nothing to hide, everybody can know how much I love you. I’m actually glad they do now! But seriously, don’t neglect your duties as a friend. Go see the captain! Bring him some brandy, or whatever it is you usually do.”

When the doctor just kept looking doubtfully at her, she added, “Don’t worry! I have enough music to keep me entertained in the meantime. And I’ll still be here, waiting for you, when you come back. Promise!”

McCoy hesitated another moment, torn between what he wanted to do and what he knew he should do, then nodded reluctantly and started to readjust his clothes.

“You’re one remarkable lady, Jenny,” he murmured, pulling her in for a quick, but tight hug, before taking a few swift steps towards the door. “And you certainly never cease to amaze me. Your perceptiveness is second to none.”

-x-x-x-x-x-

Kirk’s eyes grew wide in surprise when he saw McCoy stepping into his quarters.

“What are you doing here, Bones? Something wrong? I thought you were having the night of your life!”

“I was,” the doctor admitted with a rueful little grin, plonking a bottle on Kirk’s desk and himself into the chair across from the captain. “But Jenny sent me on a mission, practically shoving the brandy into my hands. She thinks you might need someone to talk to, and, frankly, so do I. So, what’s eating you, Jim?”

“You really have an extraordinary woman there, Bones,” Kirk grinned, filling two small tumblers and settling back in his chair. “Are you not sometimes worried that she’s too good to be true?”

“More often than you think, Jim,” McCoy replied, raising an amused eyebrow. “But don’t change the subject! What’s bothering you? I’m here to listen!”

As it turned out, the call from Starfleet and the captain’s subsequent concerns were actually about Hope. Following his glowing report, Kirk had been asked to explain what she’d been doing on Iridis in the first place. And now he was hard-pressed to come up with a plausible explanation that would not put her career at risk.

“Don’t worry, Bones,” Jim smiled at this friend. “I’ll take care of it. I’ve dealt with those paper pushers so many times before, and I’ve always managed to find a way around silly rules and restrictions.”

The doctor, of course, knew that. Probably better than anyone. And he wasn’t worried at all. The captain would never allow anything to jeopardise Hope’s career. But McCoy couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something here.

“Actually, Jim, I don’t quite see what the problem is,” he pondered aloud. “Hope asked for leave, and you granted it. What’s there to explain? She did nothing wrong, and neither did you!”

Kirk opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth as he obviously tried to find the right words.

“Wait a minute,” it suddenly dawned on McCoy, “you didn’t tell them she asked for leave, did you? You’re not trying to save her career. What you’re trying to do is to somehow turn this into an official mission to ensure she gets the commendation she definitely deserves, right?”

The captain raised his glass at that, grinning sheepishly at his friend.

“Guilty as charged, Bones,” he smirked, and the doctor felt immense gratitude and fondness for Jim surging through him, as he realised that he was not the only one looking out for his beloved Hope.

-x-x-x-x-x-

When McCoy returned to his quarters, Jenny was taken aback to see him wordlessly make a beeline to where she was lounging on the bed engrossed in her music. His eyes dark and hungry, he seemed determined to pick up right where they’d left off earlier, deftly removing both their clothes and starting to kiss, touch and tease her in the most delicious ways before she even knew what was happening.

“No more excuses, love,” he almost growled, “I’ve been waiting to show you how ‘on fire’ I am far too long.”

Jenny didn’t even get the chance to process his words, Leonard’s skilled hands, lips and tongue instantly taking her to ecstatic heights. But just when she thought she’d reached paradise, he stopped, making her groan in frustration.

“Just getting even for your teasing me all evening,” he smirked, emerging from further down the bed and bringing his face close to hers, the tip of his nose sporting a tell-tale moist sheen. “One song, particularly, comes to mind. And to make it very clear, I’m not your daddy!”

“You’re not?” Jenny chuckled despite herself, feigning surprise and bashfully fluttering her eyelashes at him, but finding it increasingly difficult to flirt in her current state of burning desire.

“No,” Leonard growled, his voice even deeper this time. “Or would your daddy do this to you? Or this?”

“No, he certainly wouldn’t,” she moaned, all thoughts of Springsteen’s lyrics instantly pushed from her mind again, when the doctor finally ducked his head once more to finish what he’d so expertly started.

-x-x-x-x-x-

The next day, McCoy went to see Hope in her office. A luxury he hadn’t treated himself to very often before, for fear of being too obvious. Unlike her, who’d worked in sickbay for almost a year, and was still treated as one of the team, the doctor rarely had official business in linguistics.

In high spirits after their incredible evening and night, he revelled in the newfound freedom that officially being in a relationship with Hope afforded him.

Everybody knows, he thought happily, savouring the feeling, almost giddy with joy. Everybody knows that the most desirable woman in the whole galaxy is in love with me.

McCoy was only a few steps away from the linguistics department, when he saw Uhura sashaying out of the turbolift and disappearing straight into Hope’s office, seeming excited and in a hurry.

Not wanting to intrude, the doctor stood outside Hope’s office door and patiently waited for the women to finish whatever Uhura had come for. He honestly didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the communications officer’s strong and clear voice was hard to ignore.

“So, it’s official, you and the doctor are an item! And you never said a word!” Uhura practically squealed, sounding a little miffed about having been kept in the dark, but mostly thrilled for her friend.

“Well, we …” Hope began hesitantly, seeming unsure of how to explain herself.

“But then, you didn’t really have to,” Uhura cut in, chuckling delightedly.

“You mean you knew?” Hope asked, perplexed.

“No,” Uhura reassured her, “but, like everybody else, I strongly suspected. It was certainly no secret that you and the doctor cared for each other. Anyone could see that.”

“Okay…” Hope sounded uncharacteristically tight-lipped, very likely a little embarrassed that she’d been so oblivious.

Even though he’d always tried to be discreet, McCoy had long suspected that their relationship might be the worst kept secret on the Enterprise.

“Oh darling,” Uhura giggled, “you were so obvious. Everybody could see that the two of you were crazy in love almost from the moment you first came aboard. And I’m not talking about your return from the Lexington, but the actual ‘first time’.”

“Now wait a little,” Hope protested, “we didn’t even know ourselves until the day before I transferred!”

Uhura laughed out loud at that, and McCoy couldn't help secretly grinning with her.

“Oh my, you two are priceless!” she snorted, seeming unable to get a grip on herself.

“How could you tell?” Hope asked, and the doctor heard genuine curiosity in her voice.

“Hmmm, let’s see,” Uhura replied, pretending to think hard about it. “Your whole face lights up whenever the doctor’s name comes up? You’ve spent practically all of your free time together, and that – again – since you first came aboard? And then there’s the way he looks at you?”

“What way?” Hope wanted to know.

“Phew, how can I explain it?” Uhura sighed. “Just, somehow, so full of tenderness and admiration. Okay, make that completely smitten. We all know that Dr. McCoy is a very caring and compassionate doctor. But there’s caring, and then there’s, you know, love. You’re both wearing your hearts on your sleeves. I remember how devastated Chekov was, when he first suspected.”

“You mean Pavel knew, too?”

“But of course!”

McCoy groaned inwardly, remembering how Chekov had come to practically ask his permission to date Hope when she still had amnesia. For such a brilliant woman, Hope was really clueless sometimes.

“And he still kept dancing with me and being my friend?”

“Honey,” Uhura gave an exasperated sigh, “he’s always loved you. Still does. Even knowing that he can never be more than a friend. Or why do you think, he’s never had the same girlfriend for more than a week or so?”

There was a long silence as Hope apparently contemplated Uhura’s words.

“Don’t worry,” the communications officer continued. “Pavel likes and respects the doctor far too much to ever try to get between you. Not that he could, of course. He's known McCoy for years, and the doctor has saved his life more than once.”

“I wish Pavel would find someone nice, someone who’d really make him happy,” Hope sighed, and McCoy felt his heart melt at how she always wanted everyone to be happy.

“I’m sure we’ll find someone for him eventually,” Uhura smiled. “Anyway, I’m really happy for you and the doctor. You both deserve to be happy. Dr. McCoy is a really fine man. And you are the best friend I could wish for. You two are perfect for each other!”

“Oh, we are!” Hope exclaimed enthusiastically, and McCoy was just about to make his presence known, when she went on. “At least I hope so. I sure couldn't be happier. He's incredible, Nyota! The most wonderful man you can imagine. Everything I’ve ever dreamed of. I adore him. I could just lie in his arms forever, talking and ... stuff, and not get bored for a minute. But even when we don't have any time at all, because of some crisis or other, just a moment's glance or a fraction of a smile from him feels like being wrapped in the warmest embrace. I just need to know he's there, and everything will be all right.”

McCoy was deeply touched by Hope’s words. She’d told him all of that many times before, of course, but hearing her tell the same thing to her best friend was something else again. Proof that she really felt like this and didn’t just say it to please him.

“Now you're making me jealous,” Uhura said wistfully. “I want what you have. I wish the doctor had a brother. Or a son even.”

Uhura chuckled, then let out an astonished squeal, when Hope playfully shoved her.

“Oh stop it, Nyota! You're being gross!”

“Well, I like my men young. And that McCoy is quite a bit older than you is a fact.”

She was right, of course. The doctor heaved a quiet sigh.

“Really, you're as bad as Leonard,” Hope moaned.

“Does it bother him?” Uhura wanted to know.

“It used to. But, thankfully, not anymore. He's come to accept that I love him exactly the way he is. That he makes me happy in every way.”

“Every way? Oh please, do tell!” Uhura laughed, enjoying teasing her friend.

McCoy held his breath. Now, this was getting interesting.

“Oh, you're impossible!” Hope scolded her friend, then chuckled good-naturedly, “Yes, in every way. The rumours about Leonard and his ‘hands of a surgeon’ are definitely true, you know. And that's as much as you'll hear from me in this matter. Now go badger someone else, girlfriend. I've got work to do!”

The doctor had to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud in surprise at that, and quickly stepped through the door into Hope’s office before he got to hear any further details about himself he definitely didn’t need to know, charmingly grinning at a startled and blushing Uhura, as she nearly bumped into him on her hasty way out.

“Leonard! What a nice surprise!” Hope greeted him over-brightly, looking a little flustered at his sudden appearance.

“Glad you think so! I’m certainly glad I came,” he replied, trying to keep a straight face as he waited for the doors to hiss shut behind him. Then he wrapped his arms around Hope, brushed a tender kiss on her lips, and whispered in her ear, “And I can’t wait to show you what this surgeon’s hands can really do.”

Chapter 54

Jenny woke up with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed, her heart racing, as the dream slowly faded away. The dream that kept torturing her. Some nights even more often than once. It was always the same dream. And yet, it wasn’t. Always the same people in it. Kids. Two boys. Although they looked different every time, so she couldn’t be totally sure. But something terrible always happened to them, some accident or illness. Sometimes they drowned, sometimes they fell off a cliff, or got shot or hit by something. Whatever tragedy befell them, the outcome was always the same: Jenny started awake, completely shaken and feeling a terrible loss.

Sammy, she thought, searching her mind and her heart for clues, any memories she might associate with that name. Like she’d done every night for the past week or so. And just like always, she came up with nothing. Yet, the name seemed strangely familiar. One of the kids they’d saved on Iridis had gone by that name. Or at least a very similar sounding Iridian one. And it had triggered something in her mind, although she couldn’t for the life of her fathom out what.

"Come here, love," Leonard’s drowsy voice broke into her thoughts, a gentle hand softly tugging at her shoulder and pulling her down into his loving arms.

He didn’t ask about the dream, knowing by now that she didn’t want to – couldn't – talk about it, just offering comfort, a safe place for her to go back to sleep, and she gratefully sank into his warm embrace, like she had for the past few nights. McCoy thought she was having nightmares from Iridis. And maybe he was right, perhaps she was. She was certainly happy to let him believe it was just that. Even though she had an inkling that there was more to it.

Snuggling closer into the doctor’s arms, Jenny promised herself to talk to him about it, if her nightmares hadn’t stopped by the end of the week. She loved him for being so patient with her. For letting her come to him, confide in him, in her own good time. Especially since, generally speaking, patience definitely wasn’t his strong suit.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to tell him what was bothering her. Matter of fact, she loved sharing everything with him. Well, except for sometimes, when she really didn’t want to worry him. But some things were just so hard to talk about, or rather, hard to put into words. To find the right words to even begin to describe or explain what she hardly understood herself.

Still, Leonard was always there for her, steadfastly offering comfort and support, no questions asked. Love, and warmth, and security. A safe place for her to work things out. Until she could talk about them. And when she was ready, she knew he’d listen like no one else could. Full of concern, eager to help, but entirely without doubting or judging her.

-x-x-x-x-x-

It had been almost two weeks now, McCoy thought, and during the day, Hope was cheerful and seemingly carefree as ever, visibly basking in the newly official status of their relationship. But Iridis still haunted her dreams, and there hadn’t been a night without her having at least one nightmare since. It wasn’t particularly surprising, of course. The experience wasn’t something you could just easily put behind you. He still had nightmares about it, too.

Hard as it was for him to watch her struggle every night, McCoy accepted that she didn’t want to talk about Iridis anymore. They’d done so extensively after their return, and he’d long established that Hope’s natural coping mechanism was to focus on the positive things in life rather than dwell on the negative. And that was all right, too. He supported that.

So he kept from asking any questions, when he found her sitting up in bed at night, trembling and breathing hard, and just pulled her into his arms, to comfort and soothe her, and to make her feel as safe as he could. It always worked. She was back asleep almost the moment his arms closed around her and her head came to rest on his chest.

The doctor wasn’t overly worried, though. Hope was a strong woman, and the dreams would fade over time. Besides, he was sure that she’d come and talk to him of her own accord, if she felt the need. If something was really bothering, worrying, or even scaring her. She’d done it before. All she needed was to feel his love and support, safe in the knowledge to have his caring, non-judgemental attention once she decided to confide in him.

Furthermore, McCoy couldn’t deny that he loved being there for Hope like that. Holding her safe, giving her all the tender touch and security she needed, never failed to fill his heart with joy and a sense of purpose he couldn’t even begin to describe. Or even really understand. Taking care of this extraordinary woman, whom he loved more than life itself, had become his raison d’être, his whole reason for living. And, strangely enough, the realisation didn’t even scare him anymore.

-x-x-x-x-x-

After Iridis, their relationship had slightly shifted. Even though he hadn’t been aware of it, had actually seen them as equal partners long before then, McCoy now felt a new level of admiration and respect for Hope. Part of her was still, and would always remain, the delicate girl he so desperately needed to protect and keep safe. But he’d never seen more clearly that she’d grown into a truly independent and strong woman. A partner he could always lean on, too. He was no longer afraid of breaking her, of needing her, of not always being the strong one.

What a wonderful team we are!

And now that their relationship was official, McCoy suddenly felt like asking her the big question, surprising himself a little there. It was like a deeply harboured yearning he’d never known he had. Truthfully, he’d thought he’d never even consider marriage again after his spectacular failure the first time. And Hope had certainly never given any hint that it might be important to her, or that she’d even be open to it in the first place.

Besides, everything was perfect between them as it was. There was no need to change anything. And yet, the doctor couldn’t shrug off this growing desire to be married to Hope, to call her his wife. Not because he wanted to make some old-fashioned claim, to ‘possess’ her. Just the idea of Hope being anything but her own, free, independent person was ridiculous. But because he felt the urge to somehow take their love to the next level, which was nigh impossible.

It couldn’t get any better or deeper or more perfect. But marriage would show the whole world their appreciation of each other, their wish to be together. Always and forever. And McCoy felt he really wanted the world to know just how happy he was with Hope. How perfect and wonderful he thought she was. He’d never had this urge before. Certainly not when he’d proposed to Jocelyn. Then, it had just been ‘the right thing to do’, the next logical step, what people - and most of all Jocelyn - expected.

He should have waited for the next shore leave, of course. Should have got a beautiful ring and taken Hope to a romantic place or some first-class restaurant for the occasion. But bearing in mind how quickly bad things could happen in space, the doctor didn’t think he could wait that long.

Hope didn’t need grand gestures, he knew her that well. She didn’t need a ridiculously expensive ring as proof of the depth and sincerity of his love for her. There wasn’t a ring valuable enough to reflect the strength of his love anyway, even if he could afford it. And her self-esteem certainly didn’t depend on swanky public displays of his affection. But he still wanted to propose to her in a romantic setting.

In the end, however, he just more of less blurted out the question when his heart was too full to contain it any longer.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Jenny and McCoy were having an intimate dinner in a secluded corner of the observation deck, and Leonard had been awfully fidgety all evening. Starfleet had issued a commendation praising them both for their exemplary work on Iridis, and the doctor had insisted on organising a celebratory dinner for them. Something special, he’d said, a little more glamorous than the mess, and with a nicer view.

“What’s the matter, Leonard?” Jenny asked, gently placing her hand on top of his, to stop him from restlessly drumming his fingers on the table. “Something’s really bothering you. What is it?”

Looking at him, as he nervously gazed at her from under his eyelashes, an almost shy smile playing around his lips, she couldn't help thinking how handsome he was. A fact he seemed to be completely oblivious of. She’d known him for a long time now, but there were still moments when his looks simply took her breath away.

She loved him for so many reasons. His kindness, his brilliance, his humour, the way he cared. About her and everyone else. For giving her this wonderful sense of security, of being cherished. And for the way he made her feel when he touched her, kissed her, made love to her. A lot of the time, she just took his good looks for granted. But sometimes, at moments like this, she’d look at him, and just get blown away by what a gorgeous man he was, feeling immensely proud to be the woman at his side.

“Jenny, I love you more than you’ll ever know,” McCoy began hesitantly, his eyes darting around restlessly, unable to hold her gaze. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I can’t imagine ever being without you again.”

He clasped her fingers, his hand untypically clammy and cold, and Jenny was growing uneasy. Was this the build-up for some bad news? But what about? His health? It didn’t even bear thinking about. Did he have to leave the Enterprise? Was he going to break up with her for some other reason? She felt her lips getting dry, and her heart hammering frantically against her chest. They’d been so happy!

“Will you marry me?”

The question came so unexpected, Jenny couldn't help the relieved laughter bubbling up inside her, unable to give this pivotal moment the dignity it deserved, and which Leonard had clearly meant to convey.

“Would you really want to?” she all but guffawed, flabbergasted. “I mean, I always thought you were done with marriage.”

The doctor’s face fell. This was clearly not the reaction he’d hoped for.

“Would I ask, if I wasn’t serious?” he retorted, his shoulders sagging, and suddenly looking lost and insecure in a way she’d never seen him before.

He’d tried to make this the perfect proposal, and she’d gone and ruined it, put the mother of all dampeners on this precious moment by questioning his sincerity.

When the enormity of the actual question finally struck home, Jenny jumped up from her chair, hurled herself around the table, and literally fell to her knees at Leonard’s feet. Grabbing his hand and putting it to her lips, she gazed up at the doctor through moist eyes, her heart bursting with a million wonderful emotions.

“Yes, Leonard, oh yes!” she beamed, feeling her eyes spill over with happy tears. “I’d love nothing more than to be your wife.”

Seeming rather overwhelmed by the situation himself, and quite obviously having a hard time processing that she’d just said yes, McCoy pulled her up and onto his lap, wrapping his arms so tightly around her she could hardly breathe, while drawing her into a kiss so intense, her limbs went all weak and started to feel like jelly.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Hope had said yes. McCoy could hardly believe it. After her initial reaction, he’d almost regretted asking her, suddenly feeling incredibly silly and ridiculous, afraid to have made a complete fool of himself. Or, even worse, to have put her in an awkward position. But now the world was a beautiful place again. A dream had come true. The most wonderful woman in the universe, the love of his life, had agreed to marry him. And she seemed really happy about it, too.

Unlike Jocelyn who’d probably been waiting for him to pop the question since their first date, craving the idea of being married to a soon-to-be doctor rather than actual life with him and all that his job entailed, Hope had been genuinely surprised.

No doubt about that, he couldn't help smiling to himself.

And yet, she’d said yes, wanting them to be together for the rest of their lives just as much as he did.

As if on cue, the sound of the bosun’s whistle could be heard across the observation deck, and a call came through, asking Dr. McCoy to report to sickbay.

The doctor was crestfallen. This was unbelievable! Couldn't he even propose in peace? But Hope just giggled as she quickly slid off his lap. Her eyes sparkling with amusement, she seemed to actually find this hilarious! Not a trace of disappointment or annoyance on her face, like any other woman would probably have felt at that moment. She really was something else.

McCoy jumped up and hit the comm on the wall closest to their table, only to learn that there had been an accident in engineering, and M’Benga needed him down in sickbay ASAP.

“Go, Leonard, and good luck!” Hope smiled, giving his arm a comforting squeeze. “This certainly makes the occasion even more memorable. I’ll stay here a little while longer, and if it gets too late, you’ll find your fiancée in your quarters.”

The doctor nodded resignedly, brushed a hurried kiss on her lips, and then raced off towards the nearest turbolift, his heart brimming over with love for this extraordinary woman. His fiancée. He rolled the word around in his mind for a moment, then shut out all private thoughts and emotions, switching to complete doctor mode before entering sickbay.

Chapter 55

Jenny’s heart was bursting with love and happiness. Unbelievably, she was engaged. To wonderful, kind, amazing Leonard. The renowned Dr. McCoy of Starfleet. Jenny was going to be a wife. Leonard’s wife. She honestly hadn’t seen that one coming, not in a million years, and she still had to get her head around it. But she had to admit that it felt terrific. Not least, because it seemed to mean so much to him. Probably the one thing that had surprised her most that evening.

After his countless snide remarks on the subject over the years, leaving no doubt about what he thought of marriage, or, more accurately, how much he’d been hurt by his first encounter with the institution, his proposal had certainly come completely out of the blue. How often had he claimed to be utterly unfit for relationships? Although, the way he’d always been there for her from the very beginning, long before theirs could actually have been called a relationship, even Leonard must have seen how wrong he’d been in his assessment.

To tell the truth, marriage had never been ranking particularly high on Jenny’s list of life goals. She’d never seen it as more than an inconsequential piece of paper, certainly nothing that said anything about the love two people held for each other, or the state of their relationship. A wedding might be an opportunity to have a big party, be the centre of attention for a day, if you liked that sort of thing. But it certainly didn’t provide any lasting security as far as love, loyalty, or fidelity were concerned.

No, marriage had never held the appeal for her it obviously held for so many others. And being with McCoy, and very happily so, she’d honestly never given it much thought. He’d been there, done that already, and she’d always been under the impression that once had been more than enough for him.

And that wasn’t even counting his short, and almost immediately annulled, marriage to Natira, which Leonard didn’t seem exactly proud of and had only briefly mentioned to her once. Apparently, the whole episode had been a bit of a blur for him, having found out about his terminal illness only days before, and feeling dizzy and rather out of it due to that very same illness.

Jenny’s heart ached just thinking about him being ill and scared and trying to deal with it all by himself, and she was eternally grateful to the High Priestess of Yonada for being there for Leonard and loving him at that difficult time.*

Natira must have been a very impressive woman, and Jenny was convinced that McCoy must have had real feelings for her, too – as real as they could be for someone you’d only just met, anyway – or he would never have agreed to marry her, not even in his dazed state. She knew him that well. But from what he’d told her, his main motivators for agreeing to stay and marry the priestess had been his longing to be loved and fear of dying lonely on the one hand, and it being the only way he saw to save Jim and Spock’s lives on the other hand.

Jenny had never asked him for details after that, sensing how embarrassed, and most of all guilty towards Natira, Leonard felt. She certainly didn’t want him to think he had to justify himself for anything in his past. Least of all to her.

Now, however, the doctor seemed positively eager to get married again. The thought crossed her mind that, maybe, he thought it was important to her? Knowing how he would do anything to make her happy, Jenny wouldn’t put it past him. She’d have to find out.

But she also had to admit that she was extremely flattered. And excited. Knowing that he loved and trusted her enough to overcome his mistrust of marriage, made her happy beyond words. Coming from Leonard, a proposal was certainly the greatest declaration of love she could think of. And he’d been so adorably nervous about it, too!

Jenny had been totally committed to McCoy since what felt like forever, wanting to be with him for the rest of her life, married or not, more than anything else. But now that she seriously thought about it, in a way that was hard to explain, the idea of them being husband and wife actually felt like the ultimate connection, an unbreakable bond. All of a sudden, as she’d already told him on the observation deck earlier, she found that she wanted nothing more than to be Leonard’s wife.

Allowing himself to love her like he did, had, of course, made McCoy vulnerable again way before he’d even thought of proposing. Jenny had long realised that and always seen it as the most precious gift, well aware of how much being emotionally vulnerable scared Leonard. It was undoubtedly the main reason why he’d made it his mission to get Spock to actively deal with his human half. To try and prepare him for emotional assault far worse than the doctor’s playful, affectionate jibes. Although few people, apart from Spock himself and maybe the captain and the bridge crew, seemed to get that. A subject that Christine seemed to be particular touchy about.

Jenny would never knowingly do anything to hurt Leonard, of course. He deserved nothing but unconditional love, loyalty and support in every way possible. Underneath his crusty shell, he was probably the softest, most easily hurt person she knew. Unnoticed by most people, and the doctor worked hard to keep it that way, McCoy took everything to heart. Jenny had lost count of the times she’d witnessed him going from confident and happy to insecure and defensive in the blink of an eye after a simple, careless remark of one of his friends. Or, sadly, sometimes even one of hers.

She knew only too well that with the power to make him happy, that she’d been blessed with, also came the power to destroy him. And she vowed then and there to make every effort to take even better care of his heart in the future, to always be considerate of his feelings, in her words as well as in her actions.

Love did make you vulnerable. It was an undeniable truth. But for Jenny, the wonderful side, the beauty of love would always outweigh the hurt it might cause. With Leonard, she even enjoyed being – or rather, making herself – vulnerable. Because, for some reason, she’d known from the start that her heart was safe with him. That he’d never hurt her, since that would break his own heart, too. And being able to drop her guard around him, not having to pretend to be more than she was, or stronger, or cleverer, made her feel safe in a way she couldn't even begin to explain.

It was fantastic to know that she could ask him anything, and not worry about coming across as dim, or naïve, or still overwhelmed by living in the 23rd century even after all this time. Leonard would always take her questions and insecurities seriously, delighting in explaining without being patronising. He might smile at some questions, which Jenny didn’t mind, often seeing the funny side herself, but it was always in a loving, benign and caring way, never to ridicule.

Come to think of it, everything they did, they seemed to do lovingly and respectfully. Even argue. But then, most of their disagreements arose from one of them trying to protect the other, however misguidedly, anyway. What better foundation to build a strong marriage on? Jenny couldn't think of anything she wanted more than to make McCoy the happiest husband ever. She’d have him smiling all day, every day. Get rid of that worried frown once and for all.

Go big or go home, she chuckled to herself, but then she’d always set her goals high.

There was certainly no greater, more fulfilling joy than being able to put one of those glowing smiles on Leonard’s face, the ones that always went straight to her heart, filling it with the warmest, fuzziest feelings and a rush of happiness she hadn’t known until she’d met her science-blue soulmate.

-x-x-x-x-x-

When McCoy returned to his quarters late that evening, still seething from having had ‘their moment’ interrupted so rudely while at the same time trying to comprehend that they were now actually engaged to be married, he found Hope curled up on the couch, still fully dressed and fast asleep. Of course, she’d wanted to wait up for him. She always did when he was dealing with an emergency, he thought fondly. But all those broken nights seemed to have taken it out of her.

Stopping to look at her familiar form, ‘her’ music still playing softly in the background, he felt all his exhaustion from the operation he’d just had to perform ebb away. Simply being in her presence always had this effect on him. Just like he always endeavoured to be her rock, her protector, Hope had become his safe haven, the calm and soothing centre of his rough and stormy universe.

For all I know, she might be an angel, he thought affectionately, and with her serene expression and her hair having come loose and curling softly around her face, she looked exactly as he would picture one.

McCoy still couldn’t quite grasp it. He’d asked her to marry him, and she’s said yes. Just like that! And now he felt on top of the world. How was he so lucky? Nothing had actually changed. And yet, everything had. Funny, how words could do that. Because, really, it had just been words. They were still the same people, still felt the same way about each other. He’d asked a question, she’d given an answer. So, why was he feeling happier than he ever had before? The human soul truly was a mystery.

Letting his eyes trail over her lovely features, so delicate in sleep, it suddenly hit him how much he wanted her to be family. To have a family. Maybe that was one of the reasons he wanted to marry her so badly? To actually give her a family again. To share his family with her. Because every time he thought about how alone in the world she was, it still hurt.

He needed Hope to feel that she was the single most important person in his life. That all his dreams and desires were about her. That she was constantly on his mind, wherever he was, whatever he was doing.

Looking back, McCoy realised that she’d practically taken up most of his thoughts since the day they’d met. He’d worried about her, been fascinated and entertained by her, had watched her at work, taking care of his patients, when she was dancing, or singing, or simply being Hope. Wonderful, lovely, brilliant, amazing Hope.

He’d fallen under her spell faster than he’d ever thought possible. In literally no time, his whole life had started to revolve around her, he’d opened up to her, exposed himself and made himself vulnerable like never before. And he didn’t regret a single minute. Hope had been worth every moment of doubt, or fear, or worry, or pain. Because he’d also been happier, more at ease with himself and at peace with the world, than he’d ever been before.

Wanting her to have a family again might be one of the reasons why he couldn't wait to marry her. But the main reason was certainly that he felt perfectly safe with her. Safe in her love, trusting her implicitly. Because, insecure as he’d always felt in previous relationships, he knew with staggering certainty that Hope would never knowingly hurt him.

Now, she was going to be his wife, and he was determined to make her the happiest wife there’d ever been. He knew she was happy and positive by default, and he’d always admired and envied that. But from now on, he’d make it his mission to make her feel loved, and cherished, and safe beyond anything she’d ever dreamed of.

And, feeling a thrill of excitement running through him, McCoy realised that with Hope, unlike with any other woman before her, he actually believed he could achieve that. Just the thought that he, of all people, had the power, and the chance, to give her all that, made his heart soar with joyful delight.

-x-x-x-x-x-

With all those warm thoughts filling his mind, McCoy crouched down next to the couch, gently whispered Hope’s name, and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. She was wide awake at the first touch, sitting up and groggily blinking her eyes to get rid of the sleepiness.

“How did it go?” she asked, a worried frown crossing her face.

“Everyone’s fine, love,” the doctor smiled, touched that this would always be her first concern, no matter how sleepy she was, or how caught up in her own problems.

He sat down beside her on the couch and pulled her into his arms, sighing contentedly as he felt her comfortably settling against him. Enjoying the warmth and the closeness, McCoy couldn't think of anything more relaxing than feeling Hope’s soft breath caressing his neck, as she snuggled ever closer, practically purring with contentment. He couldn't even remember how he had lived without her tender affections. And he sure as hell didn’t intend to ever go back to that cold and lonely place.

“I had the most incredible dream,” Hope said softly after a while.

“You did?” the doctor replied, curious, but not quite sure if she wanted to share anything else.

When she realised that he wasn’t going to ask, she smilingly volunteered, “I dreamed that the most handsome doctor in Starfleet asked me to marry him.”

“Really?” McCoy chuckled feigning surprise and trying not to let on how ridiculously flattered he was by her calling him handsome. “How forward of him!”

Hope giggled at that, and the delightful sound melted his heart just like it always did.

“And what was your answer?” he asked softly, feeling his heart beating faster, even though he already knew.

“I said yes, of course!” she beamed, not missing a beat and wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. “Yes, with all my heart!”

“You said yes,” McCoy repeated, reverently murmuring the words against her hair, his voice cracking a little as their significance hit him anew.

“I certainly did,” Hope confirmed once more, and he could virtually feel the joyful emotions rippling through her lithe body, as she lifted her sweet face to look at him, drawing him into the bottomless depths of her beautiful, dark eyes.

Pulling back a little, his breath hitching slightly in his chest, McCoy quietly asked, “Are you still sure, love? I mean we’ve talked a lot about how I feel about relationships and marriage, and I couldn't have been more wrong, as it turns out, of course, but you’ve never revealed your own opinion on marriage.”

“I’ve never been surer about anything in my life, Leonard,” Hope said emphatically, reaching up to smoothen out his worried frown with gentle fingers.

“Even though I’ll have to run off all the time?” he just had to make sure. “Hell, I couldn't even finish proposing without being called away!”

“Leonard, we’ve talked about this before,” Hope smiled indulgently, and he could tell that she was trying to be patient with him. “You should really know better than to ask this by now. But I’ll gladly tell you again. As often as you need to hear it.”

McCoy just tilted his head to the side, silently pleading with her to keep talking.

“Of course, I’m sure, Leonard!” she went on, sitting up straight and holding his gaze. “I know what it’s like to be with you. I’ve known that you’re a doctor, and all that entails, from the start. In your line of work, more often than not, time is of the essence. You’ll always be – have to be – a doctor first. And it doesn’t bother me in the least. Quite the contrary! I admire your devotion, I’m proud that you’re such a gifted healer, and I’m grateful for every life you’ve saved and are still going to save.”

Hope paused to plant a gentle kiss on McCoy’s lips.

“I want to support you in every way I can, Leonard,” she continued softly. “Just as I’d like to think that you will support me, when I need to put my work and career first, by the way.”

“Of course, I will, love,” the doctor was almost too choked up to reply, losing himself in Hope’s tender eyes once again.

“I’ve told you before, and I won’t stop telling you until you believe me,” she sighed. “You are the most caring and reliable person I know. And I love you the more for taking your responsibilities seriously. It’s what you do, who you are, and one of the reasons I love you so much. It’s why you’re my hero, why I look up to you, why I’ll always feel safe with you.”

Then she suddenly got very serious, looking at him intently, and her next words touched him to the core.

“But when, at times, you can’t perform a miracle, I want to be there to hold you, to comfort you and remind you that you did your best. Because that’s what you do. Your very best. Always. But even so – although I sometimes have my doubts – you’re still a doctor, not a magician.”

-x-x-x-x-x-

Jenny didn’t mind telling Leonard again and again how wonderful he was, and how much she loved and adored him. In fact, she’d be happy to go on about her feelings for him all day. But she really wished that he’d wake up one morning and just know how amazing he was. Gazing at his beloved face, glad to see the last traces of doubt disappear as her words sank in, she suddenly remembered something else she needed to tell him.

“I’m sorry I messed up your beautiful proposal,” she smiled ruefully, actually having meant to apologise just before McCoy had been called to sickbay. “You need to know that I wasn’t laughing at you or your words. It’s just that, with you being so nervous all evening, when you started to tell me how much you loved me, I couldn't help thinking you were trying to prepare me for some bad news. And then, when you asked the question, I was just giddy with relief. You have no idea how scared I was for you, for us, at that moment.”

The words had just poured out of her, but seeing the doctor listening attentively, a relieved smile spreading across his face, Jenny was glad that she’d brought it up. She couldn't let him go on believing that her first reaction to his proposal had been to laugh it off.

“You haven’t messed up anything, Jenny,” McCoy lovingly reassured her, tenderly brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. “If anyone has, it was obviously me. I’m sorry I scared you. I’m not very good at proposing, I guess.”

“But you are!” she exclaimed, needing him to understand how unbelievably happy he’d made her. “It couldn't have been more perfect.”

“Actually, it could,” the doctor hung his head, “and it should. I meant to do this far more romantically, but my heart was threatening to spill over, I just couldn't wait any longer. I don’t even have a ring for you yet.”

McCoy chuckled sheepishly, visibly dissatisfied with the way his proposal had turned out.

“But Leonard, I already have a ring!” Jenny laughed, taking it off and placing it in his hand. “And the most beautiful one, too. You already knew that our love was for life when you bought it for me, didn’t you? And it helped me through so many difficulties and hard times, I’d never even want another. This ring is perfect! Your proposal was perfect! You are perfect!”

The doctor just looked at her for a moment, blinking back emotional tears, then slid off of the couch and went down on one knee, putting on a face so serious, Jenny had to bite her lip not to laugh again. He was just too sweet and adorable.

“Jennifer Hope, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?” McCoy asked earnestly, tenderly taking her hand in his and gazing deeply into her eyes.

And when Jenny nodded a tearful yes, he gently slid the dolphin-shaped ring on her finger, got up again and pulled her into a kiss that told her exactly how happy she’d just made him.

A/N: *In case you’re wondering what I’m talking about, and who Natira is, I’m referring to TOS s3e8 "For the World is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky", in which McCoy is terminally ill with xenopolycythemia.

x-x-x-x-x-

Continue to: Chapters 56-60 Chapters 61-65 Chapters 66-70 Chapter 71

Go back to: Chapters 1-5 Chapters 6-10 Chapters 11-15 Chapters 16-20 Chapters 21-25 Chapters 26-30 Chapters 31-35 Chapters 36-40 Chapters 41-45 Chapters 46-50

Or read it on AO3: Another Life

************ Disclaimer: Nothing of or associated with Star Trek is mine – it all belongs to Paramount / ViacomCBS (or whoever else is currently holding the rights). This is a work of fanfiction, no infringement intended.

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qionow · 5 years ago

Text

Traitor the Dachshund

The time where nyo!Germany tried to sneak a dog back home and immediately blew her cover because of said dog.

“Berlitz, down!”

Germany barely managed to keep her grip on the squirming mass wrapped up in her coat as she pushed the door shut with her elbow, only managing to get the command out just before Berlitz jumped up onto his hind legs with an excited bark.

Unfortunately, the concept of remaining static didn’t seem to stick with Blackie or Aster either as they darted around her legs in a mess of enthusiastic panting and skittering paws, adamant on seeing what exactly was in her hands.

“Yes, I get it, you’re excited,” she huffed out, wrestling her coat to rest in the crook of one arm as she held the other out palm first. “Now sit!”

As soon as her voice hardened for that stern command, all three dogs obediently settled themselves down, ears perked up and ready for her next word, much to her relief.

She let out a heavy sigh, finally letting herself relax now that the chaotic energy around her arrival had died down as she brought her hand back up to join the other in supporting the bundle in her arms.

“Germany?”

And just like that, she froze on the spot like a deer in the headlights, glancing up to find Italy looking right back at her with sheer confusion written all over her face. Her mouth opened and closed, searching for the right response with no luck before she tested out the same answer that Prussia had given her so many times before in the past.

“I can explain.”

Of course, her coat chose that moment to let out a completely normal high-pitched yip.

She fumbled with the heavy fabric as it started wriggling around in her arms once more, nearly falling right out of her hands before the head of a dirty brown dachshund popped out of its makeshift blanket in order to stare at Italy with wide eyes like the innocent little traitor it was.

Germany cradled the small dog close to her chest when Italy’s bewildered stare had yet to fade away, face already burning dark red with embarrassment when it let out another excited bark.

“I found him on the way home,” she mumbled out. “I tried asking around to see if he had an owner, but nobody recognized him, so I thought I would bring him along for the night.”

With no response from Italy, Germany quickly abandoned any hope of maintaining her own dignity in order to defend the content ball of short brown fur that settled back down in her hands.

“I won’t keep him, I’ll take him to the vet tomorrow.” The dog squirmed in her arms for a moment and Germany relaxed her grip to let him reposition himself before she held him tight again. “I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t lost or hurt.”

Her stuttered excuses quickly faltered when Italy burst out laughing though, doubling over to lean against the wall in an attempt to keep herself standing.

“Germany, carina, that’s what you looked so scared about?” Italy gasped out, although that didn’t stop her bright grin from growing even larger.

Germany could already feel the heat jump down from her cheeks to her neck at that question, especially since Italy’s little fit was currently doing nothing to help ease it. “I didn’t know what you would say.”

Italy brought a hand up to briefly muffle herself, hazel eyes bright with mirth as she tried to recollect herself.

“You’re so silly sometimes,” she giggled, nothing but amusement in her tone as she straightened back up in order to bounce over to her side. “Of course he can stay!”

The dachshund only blinked curiously at her when she approached, head tilting to one side as one floppy ear fell open.

That certainly won Italy over in a heartbeat as she visibly melted until her affection was as clear as day on her face. “Can I hold him?”

Germany gave her a brief nod, slowly lifting the dachshund up, who seemed very content with his new surroundings, to pass her off to Italy. “Just be careful.”

“I will, I will,” Italy laughed, reaching out to cradle the little dog close. “Now, aren’t you just adorable?”

She was answered with a short bark as the dachshund leaned up to lick at her chin, stout tail wagging furiously through the sleeve of the coat he was wrapped up in.

“Oh, thank you!” Italy turned her head from side to side, squirming at the relentless amount of kisses she was currently receiving. “You’re just a little sweetheart, aren’t you? Yes you are!”

As soon as Italy started using her softer coos, Blackie, Berlitz and Aster all jumped up in order to crowd at her feet as well, although they did calm themselves down significantly more compared to when the newest addition first arrived.

The sight was almost too much for her to the point where Germany didn’t know how much more her heart could take when Italy glanced back up at her, warmth radiating from every part of her body from her smile to her gentle hold.

“And you’re a sweetheart too,” Italy declared, leaning up onto the balls of her feet in order to press her own kiss to Germany’s cheek. “My sweetheart.”

Germany only brought a hand up to gently push her back down, even if she couldn’t quite suppress the smile that pulled her lips up. “I thought I told you to be careful.”

Italy let out a gasp at that, turning back down to the happy dachshund still wrapped up in Germany’s coat.

“Did you hear that?” she huffed, mock offense dripping from her voice as she bounced the little bundle of dog in her arms. “She just said I wasn’t careful with you! Can you believe it?”

Italy looked back up at her with a pout that was far too adorable to be considered threatening.

“I think I deserve an apology for that!” Italy nodded firmly when the dachshund let out an excited yip. “Mhm! He thinks so too!”

Of course that little dog would be a traitor to the end, but Germany really couldn’t blame him for siding with Italy. If she wasn’t the one currently on the accusing end of her judgement, then she would have stuck with her too.

“And how am I supposed to apologize?” Germany finally hummed, crossing her arms to wait patiently for her answer.

Italy’s brow furrowed with concentration, lost in thought for a moment before she finally looked back up at Germany. “Hold on.”

She held her new partner up to her ear, letting him sniff at her hair with a completely serious face as she nodded along before she leaned down to whisper back to him. The process cycled through a few times before Italy finally seemed satisfied enough to let it nestle back down into her arms.

“He says you have to give me a kiss now!” she declared.

“Is that so?” She looked back down at the dachshund, reaching out to pat his head with a sigh. “I can’t argue with that then.”

Italy’s professional mask was cracking at the seams the longer time went on, unable to hide her grin as she shifted her weight from foot to foot.

Germany only shook her head once at the sight of Italy’s master plan before she leaned down to give her a proper kiss, one she could feel Italy smile into the second she closed her eyes.

“Have I been forgiven yet?” she asked quietly, parting ever so slightly in order to mumble her question out.

She already knew her answer the second Italy’s smile widened. “Yup! Just don’t do it again!”

With that, Italy turned back to the dog in her arms, hefting it back up into a more comfortable position.

“I’ll go get him some food,” Italy called out, glancing up at Germany once before she was back to cooing at the dog. “I bet you’re hungry, right?”

As she wandered off back down the hall, Germany caught the sight of the dachshund peering over her shoulder to look back at her, the picture of pure innocence to just about everyone but her.

“Traitor.”

She couldn’t stop her smile from growing when Italy whipped back around in a flash as if she had been summoned by that mumbled word.

“Germany!” It seemed like Italy couldn’t stop her own smile either though as she protectively hugged the dachshund even closer to her. “That’s another kiss! And you better hurry before I make it two!”

#gerita #nyo gerita #this is just a goofy concept that i was legally obligated to write #will i ever make something i think is worthy of being put on ao3???#no #my writing

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spideychelleforever · 5 years ago

Text

When Spider-MJ Survived the Snap But Peter Didn’t, p.3

It took hours until apparently every single drop of water in MJ’s body had finally left her body in the form of tears. Nat ordered her to drink water and eat some chocolate, because her body just couldn’t take this much in such a short amount of time, she warned. But even after hydrating herself and getting a little boost from the sensation of chocolate, MJ was still just a wreck on the couch under some covers.

Steve was busy ripping himself to pieces for bringing MJ to the cabin, Scott could only sadly listen as Steve explained the situation to him, and Nat was eating again as they eventually put in a call to Bruce. They all agreed to leave MJ at the compound, with FRIDAY on standby to watch over her and provide for her.

After a few hours of watching old reruns of Family Matters, MJ switched off the TV, nimbly curling up, until she got the urge to get on her phone. Sucking in a deep breath, she scrolled to the album on her phone she so rarely visited these days, an album called, “My loser ❤️💘”

In the album were the photos from happier days. When MJ could hear Peter laugh, see him smile, and be with him, even just for a while. She tried to remember his high, soft voice, how awkward and stupid he would be, and how he was the ultimate sweetheart to her, even though he probably never reciprocated her feelings for him. It was a terrible truth, she figured, but it was even more terrible that he lost his life, she thought.

Eventually Bruce was on board, and soon Tony, Nebula, Rocket, Rhodey, Clint, and Thor. The last Avengers trying to save the fallen.

[[MORE]]

When the time came for their first test run, Clint returned from the Quantum Realm with his eyes more alive than they’d been the entire time since he rejoined them. MJ considered things. How if even someone as distraught and hellbent on revenge as Clint could actually bear to have hope... maybe she could too.

But just as quickly, she was devoured by the new status quo - the irreparable mourning, the heartache, the longing to see Peter again.

They strategized on when and where to find the Stones. When Nat pointed out that in 2012, there were three Stones in New York, MJ immediately volunteered for it without thinking. She didn’t know why at first. The sad truth was, she didn’t think they’d survive their mission, even if they had successfully engineered time travel, so it should’ve made no difference which team she joined.

But then, something clicked in her memory. Something pretty obvious in hindsight, but stupid nonetheless.

If she went back to New York in 2012... there might, might just be a chance that she could...

***

She arrived in the alley with Steve, Tony, Scott, and Bruce. As Bruce went for the Sanctum Santorum and Steve prepared to infiltrate Stark Tower, MJ went with Tony and the shrunken Scott to hide around the perimeter of the tower until the battle had ended.

“You ready, Jones?” Tony turned to MJ. “Remember, just watch my six while I sneak in. You’re more observant than anyone on this team so I know you’ll watch my ass better than I ever could.”

MJ mused that it was hardly difficult for her to keep tabs on Tony. If she could covertly sneak glances all day at the boy she had a ginormous crush on, watching a billionaire in his suit would be easy.

Then it hit her; that Tony didn’t want to put too much pressure on her. She’d always had some mixed feelings about Tony, but right now? She had a rush of something like gratitude, even if the voice in the back of her head griped that he didn’t trust her with a bigger role than guard duty.

Now, that same voice reminded her why she wanted to come to New York in 2012.

“I see something,” MJ lied.

“Wait! What is it?!” Scott asked in alarm over the comms, while Tony whizzed around to MJ in a similar state.

“Hang back, I’ll check it out,” MJ curtly muttered as she quickly webbed off - to Queens.

****

“That was FREAKING EPIC!!!”

The small, curly haired eleven-year-old boy with an already dazzling smile and glasses and baby fat turned to grin at his heavier set best friend.

“I know! Oh, I hope they make a movie about Iron Man fighting the aliens! With the Avengers! What if we were in it?!” The curly-haired boy excitedly jumped up and down, oblivious to what had just knocked at Earth’s door. All Peter Parker cared about was the fun his hero just had - the same hero who had helped him fight off the rogue robots two whole years ago, or whatever they were. He even complimented him - “nice work, kid!” Little Peter didn’t stop excitedly babbling the entire day. Today he got to see him fly by, too. How lucky was he?!

MJ finally arrived across the street from her destination. There it was - the same apartment complex she held so dear to her heart. It wasn’t like she was back in the 50’s, so it didn’t look strange to her or anything. It looked perfectly normal. Plants were on windowsills, people were walking in and out, two boys were already playing outside-

And that made her freeze. Because even when he was several years younger, younger now than he had been when they first met in middle school, she recognized Peter Benjamin Parker playing with Ned Leeds.

She watched in awe. The sheer impossibility of what she was seeing seemed to really hit her. She’d told herself a long time ago she’d never see Peter again. There’d be pictures and videos but she wouldn’t-she wasn’t supposed to see him alive again. She gaped seeing his bright, smiling face, the furthest from his sorrowful, pained dying expression.

MJ watched him as he turned his back to her. She was just about to pull her mask off for a better breathing experience when Peter stopped in place - and turned to directly look at her.

She froze as she heard him excitedly yell at Ned “LOOK LOOK ITS A SUPERHERO!!!!”

MJ’s brain nearly collapsed. How - HOW?!

Ned turned to look too. “OH MY GOD DUDE!!!”

Both kids were now whooping and waving hi at the masked hero on the roof across the street, screaming hi and trying to get her to come over. Realizing she shouldn’t draw attention to herself any more and that screaming kids is a good way to draw attention, she sighed, and webbed over to them.

“WOW!” Peter’s little face was wide and awed. “You’re amazing, miss!!! Are you like a Spider-Woman?”

MJ didn’t know what to say to the little boy.

Like, did she tell him to never go to the research facility with the radioactive spiders? Did she tell him to come with her? Did she tell him that one day he would die a horrible, prolonged, painful death at the hands of a monster who was behind the alien invasion he saw today as a little eleven year old boy? That he was breaking her heart with every breath he took, completely oblivious of the fact that he would take his last breath in six years time, far away from home? That his best friend and his aunt would also die the same day?

“Is everything okay?” Peter suddenly asked, his face turning thoughtful and concerned. “You seem upset?”

MJ fretted. It was... it was getting harder to breathe, and... Bruce did say nothing they did would change their time, right? So.. so..

“Oh hold on, I’ll call my aunt May-“

“No,” MJ stopped him. “It’s okay, I-just a second.”

And she took off her mask, and looked down at the two boys as placidly as she could.

“Wowwwwww,” Peter gasped as he looked up at her in pure awe.

MJ tilted her head a little in confusion at him. “Um, well, so, I’m sorry for spying on you guys, I was... helping the Avengers scout the perimeter,” she lied. “And yeah, sometimes the mask gets kinda hot for me.”

“I think Peter thinks you’re really hot, too,” Ned giggled. Peter shot a sudden, venomous look at his best friend. “Dude!!!”

Now that- that took MJ by surprise. “I’m sorry?”

And Peter’s cheeks turned pink to answer her confusion. “No! Girls are icky! I just like your hair Miss, and you’re-you’re really pretty!” He spluttered.

“He wants to know how old you are!” Ned guffawed. That did the trick, and Peter began shoving him in annoyance. And MJ did something she hadn’t done in... god knows how long.

She laughed.

She couldn’t control it either, but finally, a laugh erupted from her body as she watched the young Peter and Ned argue and shove each other.

Finally, the bickering subsided, and they turned back to the tall, beautiful superhero. “Do you have to get back to patrol, Miss?” Peter asked.

“I probably do,” MJ smiled. Again, another rare occurrence, and she knew exactly why it was happening. “You two should probably go back inside too. All the alien radiation and stuff.”

“Oh no, I don’t wanna grow an extra arm!” Ned laughed. “Come on, Peter!”

“Aww, but I wanna stay with you!” Peter whined - and took MJ by surprise again by taking her much larger hand with his smaller ones. “Do you wanna get ice cream?”

MJ didn’t have time to gape because she heard another familiar voice. “Peter, Ned, come inside!”

Peter whined, “Aww, but Aunt May!”

“Come on, kiddo, listen to your aunt!” This time, a male voice was the source.

“Oh, okay, Uncle Ben,” Peter pouted. He looked back up at MJ. “Sorry, Miss, I don’t wanna go, but I have to.”

“It’s okay,” MJ nodded. “You two be safe.”

“We will!” Peter smiled. “Say hi to Iron Man for me!!” He waved at her as he and Ned turned to go back up the steps to Peter’s apartment complex. Ned went in first, but Peter turned back one last time, his cheeks turning pink again as he waved to MJ.

MJ put her mask back on, unable to process what had just happened. She webbed herself back up to higher ground and began making her way back to Stark Tower.

She’d seen a young boy, happy and innocent, playing with his best friend and admiring superheroes, and going to lunch with his aunt and uncle. That boy would grow up to be a superhero, an Avenger, who devoted his life to protecting and helping the innocent. Who never lost his trademark niceness even despite all the stress and trauma of losing his uncle and the perils of being a superhero. Who never failed to ask MJ how her day was despite having a million and one things to worry about himself. Who never stopped caring about her, regardless of whether or not he ever liked her back.

MJ stopped on one roof as something else hit her. Peter never stopped caring about anyone, not just her. He had a heart big enough to love everyone and help everyone.

So she needed to as well.

She looked out at the city, a chunk of it smoking from the invasion. She looked back towards Queens, then up to where the portal had been, and finally back to Stark Tower.

This time, she ran across the rooftop and jumped as high as she could before webbing her way onward. She didn’t let herself plummet anymore than needed. She didn’t just web her way up. She rose.

Her friends needed her. Peter needed her. And she needed herself, too. She needed the strength of the girl who led the AcDec team, who became a superhero alongside Peter, who defied his wishes to follow him into space, who fought against the madman who took Peter from her.

Finally, after five years of eating her feelings, sleeping way too much, crying over photos in her phone, raging at herself for something that wasn’t her fault, it had happened.

Finally, for the first time, she believed that the Avengers would succeed in bringing back their lost friends and half the universe.

Michelle Jones was back.

And finally, for the first time in five years... she was alive.

#spideychelle #spideychelle is canon #avengers: endgame #avengers endgame #endgame #michelle jones #zendaya #tom holland #mj #peter parker #tomdaya #spideychelle headcanon #michelle #zendaya coleman #peter parker x michelle jones #michelle jones x peter parker #when spider mj survived the snap but peter didn’t

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coffeeandvampirebiscuits · 5 years ago

Text

Sisters

Her parents were arguing again.

She'd padded downstairs for breakfast at eight o'clock that morning, still sleepy and bleary eyed, even though bright shafts of sunshine were already pouring through the sheer curtains and bathing her bedroom in warm morning light. The raised voices had taken a long while to reach her ears, and even when they did, she hadn't been awake enough to realize something was wrong. But when she was greeted with a closed kitchen door, she'd paused, confused, before she realized her parents were inside, shouting at each other again, hurling words at each other like they were porcelain bowls that shattered on the floor.

So she tiptoed back up the stairs, with a sinking heart, not needing anyone to tell her that breakfast was nonexistent, or that the possibility of going to the just-opened carnival had gone from slim to impossible. It had always been like this. Even when she was young, when everything still looked picture perfect, they'd always been too different, too disagreeable. Like gunpowder and flame, fire and water, they erupted into explosions. The explosions were never the kind that shot out pretty bursts of color on the end of a sparkler; instead they created choking smoke and toxic gas that made lungs burn and people despair. They produced tornadoes that tore through the house, had been doing so for years. The words and occasional swears swirled in the air, flying from spitting mouths, only settling down after the dust storm was over. Even then, they were still there, resting gently on the floor, like poisonous residue that would be stirred up again in another disagreement.

The only refuge from it all was her older sister's bedroom.

It started when they were little, when she and her sister would sneak upstairs to her sister's bedroom and just stay there, huddled together, until the argument stopped, the dust settled, and everything was quiet again, until they could slip back downstairs and pretend nothing had happened. Sometimes, they'd talk, about anything: their dreams, wishes, friends, or the spring flowers blooming outside the window. If she was feeling particularly scared or upset, her sister would hug her, sing, or tell her a story: ancient myths or something of her own creation, about poor paupers becoming kings, about beautiful women and the heroes they inspired, about greatness and courage and the infinite faith it took to leap into a brighter future. Most days though, they just sat in silence, not needing anything else to hold onto besides each other.

They understood they didn't have it worst; they were never abused, never beaten, never slandered. They knew their parents loved them, wanted the best for them, but just could never agree on what was best. But they also knew they didn't have it the greatest; every one of the kids at school seemed to have normal families, with normal lives, lives where the occasional squabble and bickering was made up in seconds, where it didn't mean a marriage was falling apart, or was never meant to be. Even as they grew up, nothing changed; everyone else looked picture perfect, while the hurricanes still whipped through their house. So she'd never spoken about their parents' disagreements to any of her friends, and her sister did the same. At first, they'd done it out of fear that they'd be judged differently, looked at wrong, outcasted, but... over the years, it'd changed from not wanting to share to not needing to. They had each other to talk about things with, and that was enough.

~~~

She knocked gently on the door, labeled with a faded purple piece of construction paper that said, in little girl handwriting printed long ago, Callisto's Room. Her sister's silvery voice called back indistinctly, and she pushed open the door, which squeaked slightly, and slipped in, closing it softly behind her.

Her sister was only half-dressed, wearing her usual grey hoodie top while still in the pajama pants she'd worn to bed. Her hair was unruly like it always was in the morning, but she looked wide awake, all of the sleepiness gone from her eyes, so they caught the sunlight and looked like rich brown pools of amber. They looked at each other silently for a moment, then:

"Hey." Her sister spoke first, patting the spot beside her under the covers. She walked over and crawled in, leaning against the headboard to make herself more comfortable. Even though she was fully dressed and wearing multiple layers, the warmth still seeped through her clothes and radiated through her body, as though she were standing in sunshine.

"Mom and Dad are arguing again."

"I know." Her sister sighed a little, her hair moving slightly to cover half her face. A weak smile crept up her face, although her younger sister couldn't see it. "Why'd you think I was up so early?" The feeble joke quavered in the air, hanging lame and limp between them. She turned to look her sister full in the face, raising an eyebrow reproachfully.

"Callisto..."

"Well, what do you want me to do about it besides try to lighten it up?" She sounded exasperated, defeated.

"I want you to tell them to stop fighting! Or at least tell Dad to shut up and stop spouting his bullshit!"

"You know what happened that one time you swore in front of them. And you know I've tried. There's nothing we can do."

"Yes, there is! You're almost a legal adult, and you can tell Dad to cut his crap and listen to Mom for once! He's such a hypocrite, always telling other people to listen to him, but never listening to anyone else! He always tells everybody else to do the work for him, and whenever anyone asks him to do things, he refuses! He only acknowledges me as a sixteen-year old when he's saying I need to be more respectful to him, but all the other times he refuses to let me anywhere near danger, and acts like I'm a baby! And you can tell Mom to stop being grouchy for no reason, like she's always about to pick a fight! You can tell them to listen to each other, like the adults they should be, not like crying babies!" She half shouted the last sentence, anger boiling over like volcanic lava, red hot and bubbling, oozing slowly like some noxious chemical.

There was no reply.

In the silence, her eyes met her sister's, and she realized how similar they were, the same shade of brown, like chocolate amber, exactly the same oval shape. Except hers were filled with fire, scorching fury that burned like a raging wildfire, while her sister's looked like ashes, as though the inferno in them had already been put out, and all that was left were soggy pieces of charred wood. Her sister's eyes flicked away as she looked down at the blanket, giving an inaudible sigh that filled the room with its weight, like a solid gray cloud hanging in the air.

"I'm just... tired of fighting, Juniper. You know it's been happening for a long time, since we were little. I just... don't care anymore, I guess. It'll be over when we leave."

"But you can't give up! Even if it's pointless, even if you're going to college this fall, you have to keep fighting! Isn't that what everyone tells you to do?" She faltered, her last words curling into a tentative question. She could feel the naïveté of her words as they flew out of her mouth, and felt like a small child again, unaware, too innocent. But her sister didn't scorn or scoff, just let out a small laugh, like tinkling bells. She looked up, surprised, looked straight into her sister's eyes; they were filled with kindness, pity, and, perhaps, a hint of longing and admiration.

"You really trust those sayings, huh? The ones in books, in moral lessons, in the stories I told you, the ones that said things about finding soulmates, and never giving up, about chasing your dreams and trudging forward when everything is falling down around you?" Her sister's words were laced with tired sadness as she looked away, shadows of old, forgotten dreams whisking around in her charred, ashy brown eyes. It was as though she'd long shed off innocence and her old, childish wishes. She felt a wave of empathy wash over her, and, finding her older sister's hand under the covers, she squeezed it lightly.

"I don't know if I believe in them or not. I don't know if anything is true anymore. But... at least they give me hope, and the belief that anything is possible, even if the odds are turned against me a hundred to one."

A pause. Then,

"I hope you never change, Juniper." She caught the smile in her sister's voice, and looked her full in the face. Her sister did indeed wear a smile on her face, but it only looked wistful, sad, like it was painted on to hide a crack in her porcelain facade. It looked like longing, like the yearning for days when the only weight on her shoulders was doing her homework, making her bed, going upstairs at the correct time. It looked like she wished they were children again, wished they couldn't understand again. She saw it all, and she felt her heart break, taking in the pain, the longing, the broken dreams and crumpled wings.

So she pulled Callisto closer, hugged her tighter, tried to be her pillar, her steadfast steed, her faithful hound, her rock, her unwavering ship in a sea full of storms. And she replied with the sentence she'd always say when she promised something, the sentence her sister had heard a million times, when she was asked to be more careful, make more friends, eat healthier, stay closer.

"I'll try not to." Her sister smiled again, a little broader, like rays of sunshine started seeping slowly through her mouth. She fell silent again, and waited for her sister to say something else. But when she felt a head on her shoulder, felt long hair tickling her collarbones, felt her sister's even breathing as she relaxed, lay back against the bed, she knew that nothing else needed to be said, that everything had gone back to normal, at least for a moment. So she didn't move, didn't speak, just let the quiet wash over both of them. And they stayed like that, in comfortable silence, sisters, as the sun rose higher and the world outside the room grew brighter.

She opened her eyes a while later, or maybe just a couple minutes after, to see her sister slowly getting up, sitting up and stretching her arms, climbing out of bed, pulling on her clothes. She watched, still too sleepy to pay attention, and finally got up herself. Her sister waited as she lumbered to the door, and they made their way down the hallway to the stairs together.

At the top of the stairs, her sister stopped. She turned her head curiously, about to ask why, and felt a small kiss planted on her forehead. Her sister smiled, met her eyes, and pulled her into a hug.

"I love you, June."

"Same here, Callisto."

~~~

End. Feedback is very welcome and appreciated! <3

#if this inaccurately portrays anything please tell me <3 #biscuit writes #writeblr #write-blr #short story #short story writing #spilled ink #vignette #vignette writing #my writing

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 7 years ago

Note

Mechanic!harry and YN on their day off and Harry can't help but attack his sleepy girl with morning kisses bc he's Whipped™ af 😩😩

Harry hadn’t planned on having Friday off.

The way everything had worked out at the shop throughout the week, with how many cars he’d been in charge of, he had planned on going in early today to finish up an oil change on a Honda Civic and tire replacements on a Toyota Camry. He would’ve managed to finish by noon, if nothing else arose, and been able to pick up some lunch on his way home to get ready for his and Y/N’s usual Friday movie nights at a nearby theatre.

But when his phone randomly started shrieking at seven in the morning, exactly an hour before he had to be up for work, he immediately felt a cold sting of dread shoot through his veins.

Harry had rubbed at his tired eyes, bringing the sleek black device up to his face and focusing on Liam’s bleary contact picture (a picture he was quite proud of considering it was so rare to catch a shot of someone mid-sneeze). He’d swiped his thumb across the screen, pressing the cold glass surface against his ear and shivering instinctively.

“Hello?” His voice was a deep, garbled mess of sleep and exhaustion and Liam could barely understand the word.

“Harry?”

“No, it’s the Queen.” Harry quips back sarcastically, sighing heavily as he knuckles at his half-shut eyes, trying to rid the sleep from his mind. He then hears faint snickering in the background, which he recognizes as Niall.

To confirm his allegation, the blonde boy’s thick Irish accent crackles through the phone in the form of a mocking cackle. “Someone forgot to iron the Queen’s knickers, it seems.”

Harry ignores the comment, his words coming out with an annoyed bite. “What d’you want?”

“Well, if you’re gonna have that attitude, then I guess I won’t tell you that you don’t have to come into today. See you in an hour, prick.”

He stops his fist mid-rub against his eyelid. “Wait, wait! What?”

”Me and Niall just finished up some of our stuff and thought we could help you out. Finish your cars for you so you won’t have to come in later.”

“Are you serious?” Harry glances behind his shoulder at the softly snoring mound of comforter, pillows and hair that is his sleeping girlfriend, feeling a small, muted pang of excitement inflate in his chest. “That’d be fucking incredible. Thanks so much, Li. God, I owe you big time.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just thank God I offered before Nick did. He did the same for Niall a while back and you should’ve heard what he was gonna make him do to compensate.”

Harry hears a sharp whine in the background of Liam’s side of the call, then Niall’s voice comes through, full of hurt panic and shocked anger. ”I told you not to talk about that ever fuckin’ again!”

”Only because you were willing to do it.” Liam chuckles softly, then the distinct sound of a whack echoes through the phone’s speaker. ”Ow!”

“Okay, well,” Harry interrupts his friends’ scuffle with a light cough, “thanks again. I’d stick around to hear what Niall almost did with Nick but I’m too tired and sleepy and, frankly, am not up to handling your idiocy right now so goodnight.”

“It’s not even night anym—“

Harry hangs up, cutting off Niall’s snarky comment halfway finished.

He places his phone back on the nightstand and yanks the covers over his bare shoulders, snuggling into the mattress and scooting closer to Y/N. He snakes an arm around her warm hips, sighing deeply with content as he pulls her body against his, the comforting heat she radiates mixing with her soft, soothing scent of rosemary and cocoa butter lotion, sinking into his chest and arms and lulling his mind back into a relaxed sleep.

///

Harry wakes up a few hours after, sunlight streaming in through the cracks in the blinds of the bedroom window, casting a muted haze all across the room as it filters through the sheer cream curtains.

His eyes blink open all slow and lazy, cloudy vision gradually clearing up to focus on the blurry shape before him.

Sometime during their slumber, Y/N had managed to roll over in his arms, cuddling further into him until the side of her face was pressed against the front of his naked shoulder. Her own arms are tucked against his warm chest as it rises and falls with a relaxed rhythm, her legs tangled between both of his as her cold feet try to warm themselves up against his calves.

She’s snoring ever-so-softly, her entire face slack with sleep, her eyelashes sitting perfectly pretty on the tops of her lightly flushed cheeks. Her lips are part a bit, her breathing deep as she inhales through her mouth and exhales through her nose, her shoulders rising and falling with the action. Her hair is in a sloppy bun with pieces and strands falling out, framing her cheeks in a manner he finds almost artistic. To him, she looks unbelievably beautiful in her sleep— so pure and mellow and effortlessly gorgeous that it’s border-lining ethereal.

And then she randomly chokes on her breathing, letting out a sharp snort, her face scrunching up and nose wiggling.

Ethereal indeed.

Harry can feel a warm glow start to spread across his entire chest, filling his lungs with a certain form of endeared love that comes out as a gentle chuckle. He reaches a hand up from where it was perched on her supple waist, the duvet sliding down his arm and exposing it to the cold air, causing his fingers to twitch. He takes her chin between his thumb and forefinger, sliding the bigger digit across her bottom lip and across her jaw.

The soothing action causes her to unconsciously cradle her face against the palm of his big hand, her body naturally reacting to his familiar cozy touch.

Harry can’t help himself— she’s just so damn cute. He reaches forward, his gaze flickering from her tinted lips to her closed eyelids and then back down, anticipation causing him to lick his own.

He then sifts his mouth between her’s, sucking at her bottom lip gently and feeling a wave of buzzing wash across his entire face. Her lips are so soft and warm and they feel like home; it doesn’t take a tongue kiss get him melting because, for some magical and unknown reason, something as simple as touching his mouth to her’s is more than enough.

Harry didn’t intend for it to go much further than that. He just wanted a sleepy kiss that he could lock away in his heart to fond over later. But Y/N has him so wrapped around her finger— so utterly, helplessly, whip-cream whipped— he should’ve known it wouldn’t end there. Should’ve know one wouldn’t be enough.

So he gives in, bringing his whole hand up against the side of her face to cup her entire jaw, moving noddles of her hair back from her cheek and tucking them behind her ear in order to get full access. Then, he surges forward and suckles her mouth into his— nothing harsh, but just gentle sucking that should be just enough for her to stir awake.

Harry licks across the outside of Y/N’s top lip, feeling a blush crawling up his neck as his body instinctively reacts to her touch. He pastes several gooey pecks on her mouth, then drifts down across her chin and up the supple mounds of her cheeks, then brushes his damp lips across her eyelids. Down the bridge of her nose, across her creasing forehead, then pooling light kisses in the area right behind her jaw and just under her ear where he knows she’s ticklish.

The disturbance of this particularly soft spot succeeds in stirring Y/N from her slumber, an airy groan stringing her dormant vocal chords, the sound thick and heavy with sleep. Her eyelids crack open slowly, one at a time, trying to see what had woken her up. Her mind is still floating around in her dreams, her brain trying to reign into reality and get her body to respond.

Meanwhile, Harry is still entertaining himself with showering her in kisses, sponging his lips down her neck and across her throat, suckling the skin with need and humming deeply with satisfaction.

The vibrations make the first few sleepy giggles finally escape Y/N.

He grins against her blushing juglar, kissing everywhere with more fervor and swimming in the way she starts to squirm and laugh harder, little blurbs of words managing to get by. “Har—! Harry, what are you doing?!”

“Nothing.” He quips back simply, shifting around and swinging one of his legs to straddle her hips, quickly moving to pin her down against the bed and continue his assault, answering between kisses. “Just— having some— fun— s’all.”

Y/N’s a mess of giggles and shrieks, writhing around in his grasp as he traps her in place with his thighs, pinning her shoulders down with his forearms and cupping her face with his big palms, keeping her from shrinking into herself to escape his attack. “It tickles!”

“Does it now?” He chuckles sarcastically, bringing his face level with her’s and returning her helpless expression with a mocking quirk of his brows.

“Yes! It’s does!” She pants, swallowing thickly and trying to force the smile from her face because it’s probably not helping her case at all, but rather egging him on.

“Good.” Harry states simply, then bends down and glues sloppy kisses all over her face— her cheeks, nose, chin, eyes— everywhere until she’s begging him, between heaps of snorty laughter, to let her breathe.

He lays out on top of her body, his chin resting on her upper chest, right in front of her face. He gives her a grin so innocent and bright that she can’t help but return it, too in love and too happy to even try and pretend to be grumpy. “I thought you said you had work today?”

“Liam called me earlier and said he and Niall would cover for me. I have the whole day off.” Harry’s trailing one of his index fingers up her bare arm, following the slope of her neck (and smirking when her shoulders jolt in anticipation of another round of kisses), curving around the back of her right ear and down her cheekbone, climbing the side of her nose and finally bopping it. “Thought I’d put a little more excitement into our morning.”

“By stampeding me with your mouth?” Y/N deadpans, her lips twitching with fondness.

“The best kind of stampede there is, if you ask me.”

“Hm.”

“Well,” he squeezes her nose in playful spite, “if you’re gonna be rude about it, guess you can make your own chocolate fudge pancakes, then.”

Harry goes to get up and head for the door, smiling to himself triumphantly when he feels the weight of her hand land softly on his bicep. Her voice speaks up with curious meekness. “Chocolate fudge?”

He casts a side-glance over his shoulder, back muscles contracting and flexing in an unintentional yet alluring manner, nodding his head and shrugging his brows in confirmation. “With white chocolate chips, a side of my famous Three-Pepper and Pepperoni Scrambled Eggs, and some pomegranate apple juice I picked up yesterday.”

Y/N sits forward, her head perking up slightly as her eyes fill with the familiar child-like excitement he’s so fond of. “Pomegranate apple juice?”

Harry turns fully now, his baggy sweatpants sitting low on his hips as he reaches up and pushes his messy tuffs of ringlets back from his forehead, Y/N watching with her heart fluttering in her chest as they curl to form swirls that look similar to cinnamon rolls.

He looks good enough to eat— with the tiny dimples on his stomach, his subtle love handles looking so soft and supple, and his tattoos flexing with his movements. Y/N might just skip the whipped cream on her pancakes and settle licking him up instead.

He watches with smug amusement as she ogles him from the bed, the comforter clutched tight in her fists as licks her lips slowly, eyes pasted to the dip of his hips.

“I was even gonna sit you down and feed you,” he drawls on, tutting with fake sympathy. “Sit you right there on the counter and stand between your legs and cut the pancakes into little pieces, just how you like it, and give ‘em to you. But I guess you can do that by yourself, then.”

“Okay, okay.” She says, rolling her eyes but humoring him nonetheless. “ I’m sorry.”

Harry purses his lips in faux thought, pretending to be thinking her apology over. He then crosses his arms over his broad chest, tilting his head to the side cockily, a lopsided smirk curving his rosy lips. “Say you love my kisses.”

“I love your kisses.”

He’s surprised by her immediate compliance— so immediate that he decides to push it a little further.

Harry falls to his knees on the edge of the bed, pushing himself onto all fours and crawling toward his girlfriend slowly, the mattress dipping with his weight. The sun glints off of his tanned skin perfectly, highlighting the lighter shades of brown in his hair and reflecting off the subtle scruff along his jaw. He comes close to Y/N until his hands are propped on either side of her thighs, his face a few inches from her’s. When he speaks, his voice has dropped to a low hum so deep that she can feel it in the pit of her stomach. “What else d’you love about me?”

“I love your pancakes.” She cuts through the tension easily, smiling brightly with all her teeth and attempting to get up but finding herself blocked between Harry’s arms, his shoulder pressing against her chest and shoving her back lightly.

The jade of Harry’s eyes are glimmering with a predatory-like slyness, giving away that they won’t be leaving the bedroom to make pancakes anytime soon. He pushes forward closer, resulting in her having to inch backwards until her back is pinned against the headboard. “What else?”

“I love your hair.” Y/N answers, the corners of her lips twitching up tauntingly as she refuses to give him what he wants. “It’s soft and pretty and smells like apples.”

But Harry is also refusing to back down.

He nudges her nose with his own, trailing it across her sensitive cheeks and brushing his wet lips over her’s, letting the breath of his words wash across them. “And…?”

“And…” Y/N swallows thickly, fisting at the rumpled sheets below her seated thighs as her boyfriend pushes every single one of her buttons like it’s his job. “And your eyes are really pretty, too. They’re really green, kinda like a rainforest green but with—“

“What about my lips?” He interrupts, gazing at her with arrogance flashing in the golden specks of his irises. “D’you love those?”

She shrugs lightly, nodding her head a bit. “Yeah, I guess so. They’re super pink and soft.”

“Hmmm,” Harry hums in amusement, drifting his mouth down the curve of her neck, his nose brushing across her itching skin. “Do you love it when my lips do this?”

He reaches up and hooks a finger into the collar of her oversized P!NK t-shirt, moving the fabric away from her flesh and exposing her shoulder to the chilled air of the room, though the atmosphere is tense and heavy. He pastes gooey kisses on the bare skin, feeling a certain static sting his lips as her body begins to quiver with sensual electricity.

“Y-Yeah…” She breaths out shakily, her head tilting to the side to allow him all the access he wants. “I love it…”

Harry blows on the wet patch lightly, chuckling deep in his stomach when a tiny whimper escapes her bitten lips. He then pulls away, balancing himself on his knees to tower over her. He grabs her hips, pulling her down between his parted thighs until she’s fully on her back against the mattress, looking up at him with wide, doe-like eyes that make his jaw clench and it takes every ounce of will power in him not to shove his cock in her mouth, right then and there. He restrains, however, because he wants to make this a slow burn, both for him and for her.

Harry scoots backwards a few inches until he’s positioned accordingly, then bends forward onto all fours again, bracketing her in between his lean arms and thick thighs. He leans his head down, pinching either side of her shirt between his thumb and forefinger and lifting it up to expose the pudge of her tummy— the same tummy that he loves so fucking much and that he knows is extra sensitive to touch.

He places his hot lips against her stomach, glancing up at her from under his thick lashes, reaching up and shoving a hand through his locks, combing them back from his face. “How about this? Do you love it when they do this?”

He proceeds to sponge his mouth across her tummy, circling her belly button and suckling the skin along her abdomen, loving how she’s jolting against his tongue.

Y/N gulps audibly, her words coming out as a quiet squeak. “Yeah…”

“Good,” he murmurs, continuing to sweep his mouth against her delicate stomach, one of his hands reaching down to pull the comforter over his back to hang across his shoulders.

Then, he begins to untie her Garfield pajama pants painstakingly slow, pulling the loop loose with his teeth as his fingers wriggle into the waistband of the bottoms as well as of her panties, starting to slide them down her hips.

Y/N is gripping onto the sheets for dear life, watching with a bitten lip as Harry nuzzles between her thighs, sucking at her love handles and puckering his mouth against her lower abdomen.

Soon enough he has her pants down her clenching thighs, then over her quaking knees and finally at her ankles, where he sits back onto his heels and presses her feet flat against his bare chest, tugging each cuff off one by one. The bottoms, along with her underwear, are discarded over the edge of the bed, leaving her legs naked to tremble in the cool morning chill of their room.

Harry looks down at his quivering girlfriend with a haughty haze clouding his celadon eyes as he grips each of her legs in his huge hands, turning his face to press a kiss to the knobs of each ankle. He then starts trailing downward, inching forward on his knees with the comforter still hanging over his broad back, casting a dark shadow over Y/N and blocking out the sunlight behind him.

He skims down her calves, licking at them lightly and throwing her legs fully over his shoulders so that her knees bend over them. He collapses onto his stomach on the bed, pushing forward until her thighs are squeezing his neck in anticipation. Harry grabs the duvet in his large fists, pulling it above his head and finally looking up at her.

The dark condescending glint in his irises causes her legs to jerk.

Harry gives her a casual simper, caressing her inner thighs with his lips. “And do you love this?”

He yanks the covers over his head, disappearing under the thick comforter and leaving her utterly blind to what his next actions will be.

She stares up at the creme ceiling with her entire body jittering with anxiousness, glancing down momentarily to see him moving under the blanket. Y/N can feel him shifting her thighs more comfortably over his shoulders, trying to find the perfect alcove to settle into. He drapes his arms over the tops of her thighs, gripping the inner part with his long fingers. Her heels are pressed to the flexing muscles of his back, knees parted to give him as much space as he needs.

All that’s left is for him to do what she knows is coming, but he’s taking his sweet time in order to torture her.

Y/N’s hips are bucking lightly and squirming in premonition, thigh muscles clenching every time Harry as much as breathes.

“Harry…” She whines, toes curling against his sweaty skin and she can feel his back muscles tighten under her heels. “Harry, please…”

There’s a pause in the moment, time seeming to be standing still, and then she can feel his warm breath wash over her dripping core, meaning his lips should be coming any second now.

One of Y/N’s hands jumps into action, shoving under the duvet and wildly grabbing at his hair, twisting the curls between her fingers as she feel his lips brush her folds.

And then he’s sinking nose deep into her cunt without warning, taking her entirely in his mouth and swirling his tongue against the swollen bud of her clit, lapping with wild fervor and suckling roughly.

Her back arches upwards, all control gone from her body as Harry weans it out of her with his prodding tongue and massaging lips, simmering pleasure taking over all of her senses.

She yanks harshly at his curls, throwing her head back as she feels him groaning into her core, his breathing stuttering due to the heat radiating under the comforter.

When he talks, it’s muffled from his full mouth and muted through the blanket, but Y/N already knows what he’s telling her to say. The way he smirks against her cunt gives it all away.

“God, H-Harry, yes! I fucking love it!”

#harry styles smut #smut #mechanic!harry

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